#and then he stuck his foot in the door and i said ‘in those shoes?’ and knew i was getting Everything I Wanted

[benisasoftboi]

Love that in a season of big reveals, the quietest reveal of season 3 has been Trent Crimm’s utter lack of social skills. The man puts up a good front, but he also really did think ‘Huh. Rainbow mug didn’t work. Guess I’ll stalk Colin to a gay bar and jumpscare him. Yeah, that’ll work, that’s the natural next step. There’re absolutely no in between approaches I could try here. Can’t think of any reason he wouldn’t appreciate that!’

[halfvalid]

through the night

ABOUT

| 18+ | smut | explicit |

characters: live action!roronoa zoro | fem!reader

pairing: live action!roronoa zoro x fem!reader

word count: 4.2k

description: zoro comes to the reader's room during the night. sex ensues.

tags: smut, female reader, oral (receiving), fingering, vaginal sex, creampie, kissing (a lot of it), soft zoro, first time together, confessions (kinda), fluff, no use of "y/n", banter, pwp (lowkey).

author's note: consent is sexy and so is zoro

i have up to now only watched 2 episodes of OPLA and have never consumed any other type of one piece media. expect him to be ooc. also it's my first smut fic help

It was nighttime on the Going Merry, and the dull kiss of the setting horizon drifted lazily through the single window in your room. You were lying on your bed, leaning against the headboard as you flipped through a book you’d picked up the last time the ship had been docked. It wasn’t too interesting, but it was something to pass the time with, so you stifled a yawn and flipped to the next page.

There was a knock at your door, and you glanced up, watching as the shoddy metal hinges slowly creaked open. Zoro was standing in the doorway, his broad frame blocking out nearly all the light coming in from the hall. He was still dressed in his daywear, which reminded you that you needed to change—the loose shirt and trousers you wore were, although clean, nothing near sleepwear.

“Zoro?” you asked, watching as he started into the room. You clicked your tongue before he could step another foot inside, though— “If you’re going to come in, take your shoes off.”

Zoro scoffed but obeyed, pausing by the mouth of the room to slide his heavy boots off. He tread lightly to where you lay, climbing up to sit on the edge of the bed beside you. “What’s up?”

“Can’t sleep,” Zoro answered. You moved aside to allow him some more room, centering yourself on the bed. Zoro didn’t move, though.

You raised your eyebrows. “That’s possible?”

He looked unimpressed, propping his arms under his head and leaning back so his head was splayed against your thighs. His three matching earrings glinted in the light. “Luffy and Nami are being loud. Your room’s the farthest away.”

“Your elbow is digging into my gut,” you said, turning back towards your book. Zoro rolled his eyes, but readjusted his position, pulling his arms down to instead lay folded atop his stomach. “Are you just going to nap there?”

Zoro shrugged, and you had to stifle a giggle, the sensation vaguely ticklish. He’d never been a man of many words, so you lowered your book again and went back to reading. The light in the room was dim, though; after a few minutes, the glow from the light at your bedside no longer sufficed, and you were too tired to strain your eyes to squint at the page. You could, of course, just turn on the cabin lights—but Zoro was asleep by now, and you hadn’t even liked the book that much anyway.

You set it on your nightstand, gazing down at the slumbering man in your lap. Despite the glare he so often sported, Zoro looked near-angelic in his sleep, his face all smooth planes and straight lines. Those dark eyes of his were hidden like this, black lashes splayed across his cheeks as shadows emphasized the hollows of his bone structure.

He really was beautiful, an ever-comforting presence within the Straw Hats that your eyes had always strayed to. There was a certain kind of fondness you held for him that none of the other crew members could quite compare to, although if you voiced those thoughts Luffy would probably end up giving you a lighthearted scolding. You could already imagine the teasing from the other members of the crew—Usopp and Sanji particularly—making fun of your little crush, which is why you kept your lips firmly sealed. A secret was a secret, and this was yours to keep.

You finally tore your eyes away, focusing instead on getting out of the position you’d gotten stuck in. Somewhere in the back of your mind you liked the idea of Zoro sleeping in your lap, but the clothes you wore were getting increasingly uncomfortable. You carefully slipped out from under him, cradling his head so as to support him as you gently lowered him to the mattress. Thankfully, he didn’t rouse, and you slipped to the other side of the room to open up your wardrobe, satisfied knowing you weren’t disturbing him.

You made deft work, first brushing through your hair and rinsing your face with some clean water before focusing your attention on changing your clothes. You removed your trousers, instead donning a pair of shorts. You were halfway through peeling off your blouse to replace it with a softer, silk one, when Zoro coughed from behind you.

You froze, daring to glance behind you whilst still topless. Zoro had awoken, eyes having lost all trace of sleep as he slowly sat up, staring at your figure across the room. He coughed again as soon as your eyes met, dropping his gaze. “Sorry,” he said very carefully, voice hoarse and grating.

“No, it’s okay,” you managed out, but you were still frozen. Your thoughts were on the dark look that’d been in his eyes the split-second before he’d looked away—surprised but sharp, cutting like just his gaze could pierce through your soul. Gooseflesh had prickled up along your arms.

“I’ll just… go,” Zoro muttered, already having gotten up as he started shuffling towards the door. You jolted into action, nearly dropping the shirt still in your hands as you turned towards him.

“No, you can—” your words softened, seeing his gaze flicker rapidly around your figure before finally landing on some spot by your cheek. “You can stay.” You paused, hoping your words weren’t too direct. “If you want.”

“You should put your shirt on,” Zoro said, almost choking on his words, like they were too big to fit in his mouth.

Your gaze dropped down before a steady blush started climbing up the sides of your face. “Right,” you started, but it was like you’d lost control of your hands. The shirt still hung limply from your grip.

“Or you could…” Zoro paused, lips parted as he sucked in a soft breath. Carefully, he moved back towards your bed, the only sound in the room a soft thump as he sat back on it. “Not.”

You swallowed. You could barely feel the lax of grip as your fingers released the shirt, letting it fall to the floor in one pathetic heap. You took a tentative step towards Zoro, and then another, until you were right in front of him. The soft night breeze through the window caused chills to erupt down your spine. Or maybe that was Zoro’s expression—nearly studious in his attentivity, eyes grazing across your chest and torso like he was taking in information for a new, particularly high-paying bounty.

“Zoro,” you started. He finally glanced up at your face, and you shuddered, biting down hard on your tongue. “I, um—hi.”

“Hey,” he said carefully, like he was testing the word on his tongue. Your gaze flickered down to his lips. He seemed to notice, but he didn’t say anything; rather, he raised one of his hands, pressing it against your side until his fingers tightened against your waist, a present, ever-pulsing rush of warmth. “I think my chest is bigger than yours.”

You flushed, a quick rush of crimson gracing your cheeks as you turned away. Zoro’s grip on your waist tightened, and a low laugh escaped the bottom of his throat. “That was mean,” you whined. Zoro’s other hand came up to your face, fingers pressing against the underside of your chin. He carefully angled your face down, so you couldn’t look anywhere but straight at him.

“It worked to calm you down, though,” he said easily. You were about to protest against the fact that you had been calm in the first place, but then Zoro was kissing you.

Zoro was a lot less aggressive than you’d originally expected, but as you sunk deeper into the kiss, it started to make sense. Zoro was all clean lines when he fought, practiced and perfect—no space for sloppy lines or scribbles. The way he kissed was similar; he applied pressure, but not too much pressure, and his thumb traced firm circles into the skin of your waist.

He angled your head with the hand firmly propped against your jaw, so you didn’t have to do a lot of the work—just press against his lips and move against the gentle rhythm he’d set. His teeth scraped carefully against your lower lip, and he tugged, letting a soft gasp out from your throat.

Zoro took the opportunity to pry your lips apart with his tongue, the fingers splayed against your chin coaxing your jaw open until he could slide his tongue against yours. You let out a soft whimper, hands scrambling to his shoulders and running along the muscles of his back. Of course you’d known he was well-built, but the firmness of his body forced another squeak out of you—one he was more than willing to swallow up.

Eventually, Zoro’s hand dropped from your jaw, skimming along your body line before coming to rest on the underside of one of your breasts. You gasped as he started to massage the skin with his thumb, accidentally biting down on his lower lip in the process. He groaned, the sound low as his rhythm sped up, the hand cupping your waist dropping down to your hip.

And then he was hoisting you up and onto his lap. “Oh my God,” you muttered, causing him to break away, eyes glinting with amusement.

“What?”

A heady rush had blossomed along your cheeks again. “Nothing. You.” Somewhere in the back of your head, you wondered how strong Zoro had to be to lift you off the ground so easily with only one arm—granted, it hadn’t been that far of a lift, but still. “Kiss me again.”

Zoro laughed but obeyed, his hand still working at your breast as the other dropped to your thigh. Your fingers interlaced with his short hair, tangling within the moss-green locks as his tongue ran along the ivories of your teeth. His teeth scraped against your lip as he moved away, lips instead following the line of your jaw and moving down to your neck.

You dropped your arm from his hair, hand pressing flat against his upper back. Zoro’s muscles flexed as he chased down your throat, and you sighed as he pressed gentle kisses along the line of your vein.

“Been—wanting to do this for a while,” Zoro panted between kisses, placing a final one kiss at the junction of your collarbone before glancing tentatively back up at you. You met his mouth in another kiss, a smile you hadn’t felt rising bright along your cheekbones.

“Me too,” you whispered, and a look of relief flashed across his face before he was ducking his head again to press more kisses along your neck. You let out a laugh—you could feel the rumble of his lips against the sound as it left your throat. Carefully, you ran your finger along his earrings, soft clinks filling the room at the action. “What was that? Did you think I didn’t?”

“Dunno,” Zoro muttered, and you laughed again before he nipped at your skin, teeth scratching in a gentle bite. At your chest, his hand squeezed your nipple, and you gasped.

“That was mean.”

“Mhm.” Zoro didn’t seem appeased, his kisses turning sloppier—open-mouthed, full of bite. He never pressed down hard enough to hurt, but your mouth was full of soft gasps and whines, and your hand had come down to clench against his bicep. God, his arms. “I don’t hear you complaining.”

You nudged him, meaning only for it to be a slight press. But Zoro let the action guide him, falling onto his back with you pressed against him, flat against the bed. He stilled, both hands dropping to your hips as he gaze lifted to drink you in.

You were certain you were a mess—blushing, lips probably swollen, bruise blossoms that would purple by morning scattered all along your neck. But the way he looked at you made it seem like you were all dolled up—like you were outfitted in a flowing gown, eyes sparkling and hair perfect instead of the mess it most undoubtedly was.

“You’re pretty,” he murmured, almost too quiet to hear. Actually, you were certain you weren’t supposed to hear it, because before you could respond, he was pulling you across him, fluidly rolling you onto your back. His forearm pressed against the mattress beside your head, caging you in. Zoro seemed to like this angle, moving down your neck to your chest with more gentle kisses.

You were content to let him take what he wanted, eyes not moving from his face as you watched his lips brush over your breast. His tongue was hot against your skin, and you sucked in a tight breath as he swirled it along your nipple. Zoro steadied you with a firm grasp, hand pressing against your side before pushing up to attend to the breast that his mouth wasn’t. You squirmed, a soft pool of warmth sitting in your lower belly as he worked. A tight knot had formed somewhere inside, and you let out a breathy gasp.

Zoro’s gaze traced lower, hand leaving your breast in favor of skidding down your figure to rest at the hand of your shorts. He paused, eyes flickering upwards to meet yours. Hastily, you nodded, and his fingers dipped below the cloth, head lowering to press another kiss by your hip bone. Your hands clenched against the bed sheets as his fingers skimmed the rim of your shorts, coaxing them down inch by inch before they finally slid down to your knees. You kicked them off insistently, and Zoro laughed, one hand coming to stroke your thigh as if to make you stop moving.

Even though you’d partly expected it, you hadn’t been ready for the soft kiss he pressed against your inner thigh. His hand hooked around the side of your panties, dragging them down as he kissed up your skin, and you took in a sharp breath that he wholly and entirely ignored. His movements became more insistent as you squirmed, open-mouth and biting, tongue darting out from between his lips to languidly swipe up your thigh. Finally he reached the junction of your thigh and core, mouth pressing a feather-light kiss that dragged an entirely shameful sound out from your throat.

Zoro pushed your panties all the way off your hips, letting them sit by your knees even as you squirmed to kick them off. “Shh,” he murmured, and you stopped, heart pounding as the sound sunk deep into your bloodstream. The tight knot in your lower belly had only grown tighter, and your breath caught in your throat as you watched Zoro, his eyes flickering all around your exposed core.

He ran a finger along the side of your slit, and you shuddered, watching as he experimentally traced it across your folds. He lowered his head to your hips, pressing a kiss onto your clit. You were barely able to suppress the buck of your hips as Zoro’s hand came to rest on your thigh, pinning you down as his other hand worked along your core.

His finger found your vagina, carefully sinking between your folds as his tongue worked languid circles around your clit. You let out a moan, voice stuttering against your throat as his finger slipped deeper inside you. It only took him a few moments to push another one in, the soft scrape of his cut fingernails eliciting sparks that drew another breathy moan out of you.

“Isn’t it a little—unfair that I’m the only one not wearing anything?” you managed out between breaths, and Zoro stopped his motions, head lifting and eyes glancing up at you from under his lashes. One of his eyebrows arched in question, and his lips were glossy with your fluids, causing your core to squeeze around his fingers. Somehow, he didn’t even seem to notice the motion.

“Oh, that’s what you want to focus on right now?” he murmured, all low and throaty. He always spoke low-pitched, vocal chords all brash and grating from the back of his throat, but his voice hummed even deeper now, although that didn’t seem humanly possible. Your muscles clenched again, and Zoro’s gaze dipped down to where his fingers were still pushed inside of you. He fluidly pressed in deeper, fingers curling inside your body before pulling out and working back in. Your retort was lost as you moaned again, the tight feeling of your gut slowly unwinding as he moved back and forth inside of you.

His mouth lowered to lick at your clit again, and you cried out, barely suppressing a scream as his fingers dug, more insistent, inside of you. He pressed one final kiss against your clit, and then sat back, eyes fixed on working at your core instead. His fingers pumped in and out, steady and fluid. Your breaths came out breathy and broken, climbing closer and closer to your climax until he finally reached the summit inside of you.

“Come,” Zoro whispered, the hand not taking care of you running reassuringly along your thigh. You came suddenly, hips stuttering from where’d they’d lifted off the mattress, a cry ripping out of your throat. Zoro slowly slipped his fingers out of you, rubbing soothing circles into your inner thigh as you ran out your climax. Your breaths evened out, becoming less deep, less frantic; Zoro watched all the while, a glossy shine over his eyes and the faintest of smiles pressed along his lips.

You tilted your gaze down to his face, catching him just as he started to move again. The fingers drenched in your fluids came up to his mouth, and he licked them clean. Your stomach dropped, somehow already turning you on despite having come just mere seconds beforehand.

“My turn,” Zoro said softly, sitting up to start unbuttoning his shirt. You hoisted yourself up, hands skimming along the sheets beside him, uncertain of whether he wanted you to touch. You glimpsed a stiff tent in his pants as he sat up, and swallowed hard, eyeing the pull with apprehension.

“Do you want me to—” you tried gesturing down to his hips, but he caught your hand swiftly, pressing it against the buttons of his shirt. “What do you want?”

“Sex,” Zoro said. Nothing else. You held back the choke that dared to escape your throat, and a sheepish grin crossed his face. It was lopsided, nearly a smirk, if not for the genuine warmth glimmering at his eyes. “Sorry. That was vague.”

“It’s okay,” you assured, stifling a laugh. Your hands worked fastidiously at his buttons. It took far longer than you felt it should’ve, fingers all clumsy as you tugged them through their holes, unlooping them from where it fixed the cloth together. Soon enough, though, Zoro was stripping the last of the fabric off, tossing it carelessly across the room before pulling you into another kiss.

He was sloppier now that you’d come, more comfortable in his element—you could taste the tang of yourself on his lips, and you let out a sigh, hands moving down his figure to work at his belt. He had to stop kissing you to tug at his pants, pushing them down his legs before finally kicking them off fully.

You ducked your head to press a kiss at his navel, eyes tracing the length that jutted out from his hips. Your breath caught, gaze fixed to a pale vein running up the line of his length. “Up,” Zoro murmured, and you glanced up. Zoro pressed a long kiss to your mouth, one hand skimming around your butt to pull you up by the headboard. He ran a hand over your core, as if to ascertain you were relaxed enough for him.

“Do you have anything for it?” he murmured, lips sending chills down your back as he pressed a soft kiss at your jaw.

“I’m on the pill, yeah,” you huffed out, arms winding around his torso. Zoro hummed his response, fingers running up and down your thigh as he adjusted, hips sliding against yours to meet your core.

You sucked in a breath, but he was gentle with it, pushing in slowly, hand running along your lower back and coaxing you still. The sensation sparked tingles all over your body; up your spine, along your hips, down your legs like Zoro was electricity himself. You let out a little sigh as he pushed up to his hilt into you, hips stuttering against his as you both paused for breath. He brushed a ghost of a kiss along your lips. “Okay?” Zoro murmured.

“Perfect,” you answered, arms clutching tighter around him, fingers digging into his back. You hoped it wasn’t too sharp, but considering how big Zoro was, it was likely he barely felt the pressure—the crescents of your fingernails were probably just pinpricks to him.

Zoro started moving, then, his actions soft and fluid at first, fingers pressing reassuring circles into your waist and hips. He was nearly tender with it, motions languid and slow, like he had all the time in the world. Your breaths came out easy, soft and just barely edging towards gasps.

He started thrusting with more insistence soon, though; Zoro’s hips bucked against yours, and your grip tightened along his shoulder blades as he pushed in and out of you. Soft gasps and whines left your throat, in stark contrast to the heavy groans and grunts that barely stuttered past Zoro’s lips.

“Like that,” you said, barely able to let out words of encouragement as he hit your sweet spot, buried deep inside of you. You let out a throaty moan as he moved faster and faster, thrusts becoming harder and more aggressive. You knocked your head back, one of your hands reaching to grab Zoro’s from where it propped him up by your head. He welcomed the invitation quickly, fingers interlacing with yours, coaxing your palm open into a kiss of your hands. His thrusts worked harder than ever, and you stopped chasing the friction, letting your hips buck up against his as he shoved into you.

A low groan erupted from his throat as he hit your spot again, mouth coming down to bite into your shoulder as he suppressed the cry that tore from his mouth. You swallowed, gasping hard for breath as you felt him come inside you, your walls clenching tight around him before you also felt the familiar burst of pressure. You let out a gasping moan, mind buzzing with sparks and tingles. Vaguely, you felt Zoro’s hand against your hip, moving up and down in calming strokes.

It took a moment for you both to recover, coming down from the blissful high after long seconds ticked by. Zoro removed his mouth from your shoulder, carefully prying his jaw off from your skin. He scrutinized the marks he’d left—crescents of teeth, undoubtedly—before lowering his head again to press an apologetic kiss to the bite. You laughed in surprise.

“I can be a gentleman,” Zoro protested lightly, though his words didn’t hold much of a fight as he carefully slid out of you. He did it slowly, inch by inch, leaving a hollow sensation in his wake when he eventually parted from you. “You okay?”

“Lovely,” you answered honestly, eyes grazing up his chest before meeting his. “You?”

“I’m good,” Zoro answered, a vague smile on his lips. It was soft, tender; maybe not as big as ones you’d seen when he was laughing with the crew, but special nonetheless. He studied you for a moment, and you took the opportunity to trace his face with your eyes. His pupils were blown, slowly receding back into small dots of shadow, and his lips were kissed red, swollen over and glossy with your saliva. “Want me to draw a bath?”

“No,” you said, content just to watch him like this. “We can clean up in the morning, it’s getting late.” You hesitated, suddenly uncertain, teeth tugging at your lower lip. “Unless… you want to go?”

Zoro snorted. “No, I think I like it here,” he decided. He sat up, reaching to pull the blankets over your figure so the gooseflesh you hadn’t even noticed on your skin would subside. “Too tired to move, anyway. Might stay here forever.”

“Dramatic ass,” you mumbled, wrapping a hand around his wrist and tugging him closer to you. Zoro obeyed, sliding beside you, one arm moving to wrap around your waist. “Go to sleep, you big dummy.”

Zoro’s breath was light against the shell of your ear. “That was unwarranted.”

“Sleep,” you insisted, and Zoro huffed, reaching the arm that wasn’t around you to the nightstand. He flicked the lantern off, then turned back towards you, finally settling down. His lips pressed a soft kiss along your shoulder, and you smiled, your hand reaching down to meet where his was splayed along your belly.

“Good night,” you whispered.

“Night,” he mumbled back, the end of the word tapering off into a soft, tired breath. You could feel his chest move, up and down in a steady, soft rhythm. You buried your head into the crook of his arm, letting out a contented sigh before finally closing your eyes to drift off to sleep.

© halfvalid 2023

[ohsohoney]

When it comes to love you're just as blinded.

Part Two

Eminem x Musician

Summary: It starts with a drunk embarrassing video, it spirals into something a whole lot more.

Note: Thank you for all the love on the last post! Figured I'd post the next part seeing as I said on the last update I have a whole story in mind for this but not sure how well it will go down:)

Set in 2014, just after the release of LP 2 || Em’s daughters are renamed here because it felt weird not to and also have different ages– doesn’t affect the story much but just a warning!

Masterlist

Weeks passed, during which I had spent a lot of my time back home dealing with Lottie’s schooling and making sure that she was mostly settled. She’d had a rough go of it last year, school being something that we both seemed to have had an issue with, but watching her struggle through some of the same problems I’d once faced was difficult and so I wanted her to know that she had the support I felt I’d never had. 

I’d been dragged off to shoots and studio sessions here and there, not much coming out of the latter in truth, but had stayed mostly confined to London. Which was why I was having a fucking mare over the fact that I was set to leave for a couple weeks without her. Not that I wasn’t excited about it all, nervous too, but it was work and that didn’t seem to trump whatever it was that was going on in Lottie’s life. Thankfully, she’d caught wind of my obvious anxiety and seemed to be happier than she’d been the previous term, had even gone out of her way to assure me that nothing would happen in the time I’d be gone.

So she was staying with her mum for a short time, my brother promising to check in on her from time to time too, even whilst he was still deployed overseas, as well as a couple friends of mine. Truthfully, if I’d had to leave her without those extra reassurances in place I don’t think I would have gone.

But here I was, across the pond doing an interview for a magazine spread and shooting in New York. 

It had been a long day, a plethora of outfit changes and little food due to the constant rush of things, so I was thankful for the short break we’d been gifted before the last set was meant to start. Although saying that, I was still stuck staring down at two pairs of heels that had been pushed into my arms the second I’d stumbled away from the cameras.

Eventually I grew tired of chewing on my lower lip and pulled out my phone.

Messages  Help Which shoes?

His response wasn’t immediate but came sooner than expected.

Messages  The Martian Why

With a roll of my eyes, accompanied by a semi-amused sigh, I shot another text back. Because in truth, what had I really expected? I’d learned all too quickly the man wasn’t made for texting.

Messages  I said help?? Forget it, can you call?

The ringing was practically instantaneous, enough so that the sound made me jump at its unexpectedness. 

“You got a foot fetish I don’t know ‘bout?”

I smiled at the sound of his voice and then laughed at the absurdity of his greeting. “Hi to you, too. And no, but if that’s something you’re into I’d rather not know.”

Marshall hummed around a mouthful of swallowed words before there was a slight sound of movement that echoed down the line alongside a door clicking shut.

“Did I interrupt?” I questioned, thinking back to the conversation we’d had earlier that same morning. He hadn't mentioned any set plans but I knew that he tended to frequent the studio at odd hours whenever inspiration hit. “I was just messing before, it’s not that important.”

“You’re fine, they can wait. Wanted to grab something anyway.” He said and the reply warmed me, there weren’t many who’d go out of their way to make time for me. Although that was just me assuming again. “You good?”

I slumped back into the dressing room chair at the ask, it was a ballache to get comfy in but I wouldn’t dare complain about it now, not after having spent two hours sat dead still in the fucking thing. “Just a long day. Got these last few shots to get done and then I’ll be free.”

My voice sounded wistful enough before my face then scrunched at the sudden gurgle given by my stomach. It must have been just loud enough for the mic to have picked up because Em was quick to question, “You eaten yet?”

I shook my head, forgetting for a split second that we weren’t on one of our usual Facetime calls. “Going to, after I get this done.”

A grunt resonated, broken up by the sound of cabinets being opened and closed, “Idiot.”

Smiling at the one word response I’d garnered, I peered back over at the shoes I still had to pick between. I sighed, “Swear it, I’m gonna head straight back to the hotel and order a shit ton of food. Probably pass out beside a bowl of gravy or summat before I have to be at the airport.”

There was a brief pause.

“Paul did sort the tickets right?”

“Yeah, Mila emailed them yesterday.” I reassured him as I reached up to rub at my eye, stopping a second short of actually doing so, having forgotten about the makeup that would have to be redone if I went and followed through on the action. “Again, you didn’t have to do that.”

“What I tell you?” He reminded me and I huffed out a small chuckle.

“To shut the fuck up about it?”

Marshall hummed once more, “Exactly. A car will be outside once you land.”

My lips pursed as I fought to dampen my appreciative grin, knowing he’d somehow hear it, even from a state away. Which was a strange thing to think about, having been an entire ocean apart for the majority of time we’d spoken. That first phone call felt like a lifetime ago almost. “Car’s a bit much, I don’t mind grabbing a cab or calling for one.”

He didn’t deign that with an audible answer.

“Em, I’m serious.” I laughed, the stress I’d felt earlier about the shoot slowly falling away, enough so that I let myself relax into the chair out of hell. “You’re already doing so much for me. I mean, the flights alone but, you’re already letting me stay with you too.” 

And wasn’t that an insane concept, but he’d been adamant on it, claimed it made no sense for me to rent some pricey room in the city when he had more than enough in that big old house of his. I had pressed in return though, told him it was more than fine, me holding up in some hotel, and that I didn’t want to feel as though I’d be stepping on anyone’s toes, or become this ominous presence that he had to keep sidestepping around in his own home. But then the topic of paps had come up, safety, keeping the album underwraps. I hadn’t been able to argue with him much after that. He was a paranoid fucker, but from what I’d heard from him in small snippets, he had his reasons.

“Car will be outside.” He repeated a second time, leaving no room for much more said on the topic, so I gave in, sliding down slightly further in the crappy chair just as a rep ran by the room calling out to me. “Got to go?” He asked, having heard the shout too.

I wet my lower lip, allowing my eyes to close for a moment. “Two minutes.” But I knew that I'd blink and they’d be over too soon.

I listened to his low chuckle resonate and let go of a slow breath at the sound, a sudden tiredness overcoming me. 

“Call me when you get back.” I heard him say, more background noise filtering through his end that told me his time was more than likely up too. “And, the blue.”

My brow pinched at the last comment he gave me before my eyes flickered back over to the two pairs of heels perched on the dresser, one black, one blue. I cracked a grin, “Go Lions?”

I could almost hear the smirk in his retort, “You know it.”

The shoot went over about as well as expected after the short break concluded. It seemed that everybody was about as ready to head out as I was, but I was just so grateful to all of them for the work and effort they’d put in that I made a quick round of thanking the few that hadn’t darted straight out the door the second they could, before I eventually followed.

So by the time I made it back to my hotel it was late enough that the lobby was rowdy with the usual partygoers and a rather large bridal party. I slipped into a lift as quickly as I could and headed straight up to my floor, all too relieved to finally kick off my shoes and topple into bed after having been on my feet since four that morning.

I didn’t earn much reprieve though, seeing as soon after I’d put in an order to room service that my phone started to ring. I groaned into the pillow petulantly before I finally heaved a large sigh and made my way down the duvet to grab at the mobile I’d dropped there upon entering.

“Yeah?”

“Ouch. Haven’t spoken in weeks and that’s the only greeting I get?”

I blinked at the startling sound of a familiar voice and forced myself back up into a sitting position, smiling brightly at the surprise. “I didn’t know it was you!” I retorted quickly, shocked by the sudden call, “I thought you would phone when you got to your next base!”

“There was a switch up, got a couple days off here after–” He paused and I knew then that something must have happened out there.

“You okay?” I murmured, voice quiet but not enough to go unheard. It was always hard hearing about the things my little brother experienced when he was out deployed, but he loved it. It had been his life since the moment he’d left home at eighteen and had enlisted. I felt foolish after I’d asked it and winced at my question, “Sorry, that was stupid. I just meant–”

Danny’s laughter filtered through then, making me feel a tad bit lighter. It was always so hard talking about serious shit with him sometimes, but if there was anyone who could brighten up a room, even one full of the walking dead, then it would have to be him. Which is why I let myself laugh too when he ribbed into me for the stumble, making fun of the way I’d gone and fretted over my poor choice of words.

“Fuck off! I’m running on like four hours sleep and have yet to eat!” I shot back at him, shaking my head at the entire conversation, grateful that we could just jump back and forth between both the good and the bad. I missed him a whole lot sometimes, it was hard not knowing if he was safe. “I’m tryna be a good sister here!”

“Uhuh,” He drolled, dragging the dull sound out. Before he switched things up, “Speaking of, you spoke to Lottie since you've been gone?”

I chewed on the inside of my cheek at the ask, falling back into the mountain of pillows the hotel offered only to glance up at the stark ceiling. “Yesterday. I’ll text her in a sec though, she’ll probably just be getting out of school.” I looked over at the clock to double check that and hummed. “Why, have you?”

“No,” Danny answered me carefully, “But I phoned mum.”

My tongue worked its way between my front teeth at the mere mention of her. “Right. What did she have to say then?” But I was already regretting asking. 

“Said she ain’t seen you. That Lotts got dropped off in some car with a suitcase a couple days ago.”

I felt the skin around my eyes tighten before I took a deep breath, “That so?” 

It was almost funny how much the woman could change and flip things around to better suit her narrative. Lotts had stayed at a friend’s the night before I’d been set to fly out here, she’d been more than happy to have been dropped off at her mums and so I didn’t know why it was now being made into a bigger deal, as though I’d shoved her in some randomer’s car without so much as a goodbye. 

He must have realised I was silently stewing because I didn’t miss the light chortle Danny tried to cover up with a cough.

“I know she’s hard work, El, trust me.” He commented after, always playing the role of referee, “Just surprised me, is all, when she said she hadn’t seen you.”

Hollowing out my cheeks to keep from taking out my agitation on him, I took a second to calm back down and find the best answer to give. “I haven’t seen her because I don’t go there.”

“What, to the house?”

My eyes slipped closed at the startled disbelief in his tone. “Where else? Why would I want to go back there, Dan?”

We knew each other so well that I could practically see his lazy shrug, it made me miss him that much more. “Just figured, you know?”

No, you don’t know. I wanted to say, but wouldn’t. I couldn’t be like her, have the kids running around trying to keep track of who said and did what. I hummed quietly to myself instead, feigning disinterest when really my skin had begun to itch at the reminder. “She okay then?” I asked just for something to say, figuring that there must have been something going on for him to have mentioned it.

“Reckon so,” He replied easy enough though, probably having recognised something or other in my voice to keep from prodding much more on the previous topic, “Sounded off on our call but didn’t mention anything. Still, figured I’d let you know seeing as Lotts is there with her.”

My eyes suddenly stung and I hissed out a curse, “What did she sound like? Slurred, or?”

He knew exactly what I was getting at with that and thankfully was quick to reassure me, “Nah, nothing like that I don’t think. Just sketchy, like all jumpy and shit– careful with her words almost.” 

“Right.” I dragged out in a slow exhale, thinking it over. The question of going back home now spun round in my mind.

“Don’t.” I heard Danny say not a moment later as though he knew exactly what train of thought I'd hopped on, “You’re working, things are fine. Lotts is fine. Everything's good. So just enjoy yourself, yeah? Stop worrying so much.”

“Hard not to.” I huffed and rubbed at my eye.

His next words sounded apologetic, which wasn’t heard too often with him. “Shouldn’t have mentioned it, just wanted to keep you in the know.”

Immediately I shook my head at his retort, “No, you were right to. I mean, you’re a world away and I’d want you to let me know if you thought something was up rather than keeping it quiet and something happening.” 

“You’re a world away too.” He laughed at me, and it was nice for just a moment to listen to the familiarity of it. 

Danny was only three years younger than me, but that gap in age had only ever felt so large when we’d been kids– me sheltering him from everything going on at home until he’d grown too old to not to understand– and now. What with me looking after Lottie practically fulltime and him being stationed thousands of miles away, us only seeing each other when the odds willed it. 

“Don’t mean that you should go and get all pissy over this.” He said, pulling my attention back, “Stressing will just fuck you up more so than you already are.”

I snorted at the irony of that. “Alright, pipe down Private Ryan.”

“Ha ha.” He deadpanned in a way that only your brother could, “When d’you get funny?”

Humoured, my scowl didn’t quite radiate enough scorn and neither did my reply seeing as I went and chuckled around it, “I’ve always been the funnier sibling. Just ask Lotts.”

“Nah, Lotts would say herself and then me.” Danny argued for the sake of it, “Face it, Els. You’re old.”

“Twat.” I shot back childishly, though he merely laughed.

“Yeah, but you’re the cause of it.” He quipped, grinning now, I was sure of it, before he went and changed the subject entirely, “How ‘bout them Giants, anyway?”

Rolling my eyes hard enough to feel a slight strain, I granted the idiot a small chuckle. “You actually care enough to ask?”

“Nah,” He breezed on through a heavy breath, “I’ll stick to the FC, thanks. Just figured since you mentioned you were out in New York.”

I hummed softly, peering over towards the window. The blinds were now open, not still pulled from when I’d forgotten about them in the rush I’d been in this morning, so I figured someone must’ve opened them when they’d come in to clean. Which, even after all these years, still made me feel weird. Sure, it was their job but I hated the thought of people clearing up after me. Even more so when I remembered having had the same role down at the local pub back home. 

“It’s fine, chilly, but it’s October, you know?”

Danny’s ever typical smirk was prominent in his next set of words, “Still warm over here, think I’m actually catching a tan.”

Chuckling, I kicked my legs out over the duvet. “I’m so jealous it hurts. How is it out there anyway? Never been to Cyprus, heard it’s lovely– that’s still where you’re at right?”

He acknowledged it in a soft hum, “Yeah we are, and it’s alright, not as good as Mali though. Miss it there, the food, the people.”

I smiled softly to myself at the nostalgic yearning he voiced. Vaguely remembering his few mentions of a girl during our short calls and odd texts when he’d been there, but I didn’t ask. Thing was with Danny, if he wanted to talk about something he would. Otherwise it was like squeezing water from a sodding stone. “You know where you’re headed next?”

“No, on leave for a bit after this so I’ll find out sooner or later.”

I perked up at that. “What, you headed home then?”

It had been a good few months since I’d last seen the kid in person, let alone had him back home with us.

Danny must have anticipated my excitement because he laughed brightly in turn and his voice was full of warmth, “Yeah, so you’d best get ready to see my mug in a couple weeks.”

My mind tallied up the next month or so of my schedule. I was in Detroit for the next two weeks on an odd sort of break I’d somehow managed to pull, seeing as I was still somewhat ‘working’ and had put in extra hours before flying out. Then I’d been asked to do a couple of video interviews, mostly to keep up appearances and hint at new music in the works– but I could do that anywhere. Everything after that was up in the air.

“You got a place to stay?” I was quick to query and he must have known what I was getting at by asking.

“I’ll swing by mum’s and pick up the spare set of keys I have there, make sure my room’s ready before I get to yours, yeah? Want fresh sheets and a gift basket waiting.”

The fucking cheek. “I haven’t touched it since you left the last time, so if you’ve got shitstained pants lying about or a goldfish in there, then I’ll expect you’ll be in for a right treat.”

“Ah shit! Forgot about Nemo.” He snarked, but it was followed by a snort, “Dick. Besides, I haven’t and you know it.”

I hummed dubiously and then laughed when he clucked his tongue at me, probably geering up to argue, but then the door sounded. I stopped short at the rapid taps and was instantly reminded of the call I’d put in earlier. “Sorry, it’s probably room service.” I told him, already sliding off the bed to head on over towards the knock, “Forgot about it when you rang.”

“No worries,” He said easily, “I’ll try and call you again in a couple days, yeah?”

I paused at that, “What? No, you don’t have to hang up!”

Danny just chuckled though and I could see him sat there humoured by my reaction as he shook that big old head of his. “It’s fine, if you look as tired as you fucking sound then you’ll be out like a light sooner or later. I’ve still got some time here to piss away anyway so I’ll text.”

I couldn’t find it in me to be much annoyed by his quip, he was probably right. “Okay, it was nice to hear your voice though.” I admitted as I went and opened the door to let in a guy with a silver trolley, I thanked him quietly with a smile of my own and a tip as he left.

“You’re welcome.” Danny teased snidely once the door had closed, “Always happy to shed a bit of laughter into your life. Can’t imagine you get too many people brightening up your day out there.”

I rolled my eyes. 

“They ain’t all bad.” I informed him in reply to that Yank reference of his, picking up a chip as I did so, they were still steaming and hot enough to scold my mouth. 

“That so?” Danny wondered out loud, “Got someone special out there, have ya?”

“Fuck off, Danny!” I all but sung, chuckling when he started calling out ‘I knew it’ and making stupid kissy noises into the phone, forever a fucking wind up. “You’re so far from right but whatever. Now can I go eat or you gonna bother me some more?”

“Yeah, yeah. Enjoy your food– and the mystery man!”

He hung up before I could even think to conjure up a word, leaving the room in relative silence. Baffled, I resorted to shaking my head then moved to pick up the few plates I’d ordered, taking them over towards the bed and turning on the tele more for sound than actual entertainment. 

I only glanced back down at my phone again when it buzzed against the plush white sheets beside me. I continued chewing, but felt my brow pinch slightly as I looked back on a few texts and emails I’d received whilst on my call with Danny. I reasoned that I could ignore most of them until tomorrow when I had time to waste waiting on my flight, but there was one that my eye got stuck on.

Messages  The Martian You get back ok?

Typically, it was me that texted and Em who called. But seeing as how the roles here had suddenly reversed I forgoed typing back and instead clicked on the little video camera icon in the top right corner of our chat. 

It rang for a beat, then two.

“The fuck’s this?”

I held the phone up a little higher at the voice, having gotten a bit lost in the lifetime show which had been playing on the tv as well as my food. Glancing down, I was glad to spot his surly face peering back into the camera and smiled, before I caught sight of myself in the small box at the bottom and grimaced. Danny had been right, I looked half dead.

“And what’s with the face?”

With a wrinkle of my nose, I pulled my gaze away from the box figuring that the first time this man had seen me was possibly at my worst so what difference did this make? Still, I answered him. “I look dead.”

He blew an amused breath out of his nose and I realised a second too late that he was walking around in a room I had yet to see, before he eventually fell back onto a plethora of dark sheets. I realised he must’ve been getting ready to turn in when I called. He looked a little tired too, eyes heavier under the dim lights of his bedroom. “You’ve got a black eye. Looks tough.”

The corner of my mouth tugged upwards at the odd compliment as I brought the phone in closer to get a better look at the eye I’d gone and rubbed earlier, smearing a shit ton of glitter and eyeliner all over my cheek. I droned in retort, wiping underneath my waterline in an attempt to somehow save it, but it seemed it didn’t work the way I hoped, not from the smug look Marshall was now sporting. I flipped him off and fell back further into the pillows, taking the plate of chips I’d ordered with me.

“I forgot to take it off when I got in.” I explained, huffing out a slight chuckle, “But I doubt that even I can make glitter look tough.”

Em appeared to tilt his head in a ‘whatever you say’ sort of way, before his eyes turned surveying. “You finally fillin’ up?”

My expression shifted at the way he’d phrased that but whilst he seemed humoured by the reaction he obviously wasn’t just asking for the fun of it. “Yeah, a strange assortment but I’ll take it.”

He looked a little bemused by my answer and so I shifted to better show him what I was talking about. I first pointed out the glass cup I had balancing nearby, perched beside a plate of gooey goods, “I got some weird iced tea ‘cause I forgot that you lot don’t know how to do it right, as well as this cake selection thing.” He hummed, hand coming up to rest on his chest just as I picked up another chip covered in ketchup. “And then just a bowl of chips. Don’t tell anyone but this hotel’s room service sucks ass.”

I watched on as he raised a brow at the shoddy American accent I’d equipped for the end of that sentence before he eventually replied, “Fries.”

“Yeah no.” I rolled my eyes, chewing on another chip just to spite him for the correction. It was one of the many things I couldn’t wrap my head around whenever I was visiting. 

“The hell they’re not.” Marshall was quick to shoot straight back, “You go out and ask for chips at some restaurant you’re gettin’ looked at like an odd fucker. And anyway, how's that a meal?”

“It’s food.” I enforced with a soft snort, pleased to have gotten him a little riled up, “At this point I’d eat gum off your shoe, I’m that hungry. And anyway, fries is only used here and in like, fast food chains?”

“Rolling back round to that foot fetish. This a hint?” He ragged, but his face remained stoic enough that I had to laugh, and loudly too. Marshall just continued on though, still stuck on the debate, “They’re legit french fries.”

“Fuck’s sake, only you call them that! Over there it’s just fried potato.”

“Exactly fuckin’ fries!” It was probably the most animated I’d seen him in a couple days, all because we were both so hellbent on being right. 

I groaned, mostly just to keep up the act. I didn’t much care either way at this point, far too exhausted from the early morning start and too little sleep, but it was nice to finally see him not stressing. Something which had become a recurrence over the passing weeks since the idea of the album had started to come into reality. 

“Whatever. We’ll just call up the Oxford Dictionary tomorrow or whatever, ask them.”

“Biased jury.” He remarked but then there was a barely audible creak and his attention was being redirected to something beyond the screen. “Hey, baby. You have a good time?” I heard him mumble, the phone having lowered a tad.

There was an excited retort that seemed to grow closer, but my breath was caught in the back of my throat at the sudden realisation of just who it had to have been.

Marshall sat up a little further, shoulders coming to rest against the headboard so that he could hug the girl that crept into the corners of the screen. He pressed a kiss to the side of her head, murmuring in her ear, and I let my eyes flicker back down to my food, feeling like I was intruding on a tender moment.

I’d always known that he had kids, anyone who listened to his music could tell you that much, and he’d briefly mentioned them a handful of times in the time we’d spoken too. But I had yet to meet either the infamous Rosie or his eldest daughter, seeing as she was fresh out of college and his youngest wasn’t often around when we did speak. 

They spoke back and forth in a soft cadence for a while and when I chanced a glance back down at my phone I found that Em had me perched on his knee, now sat up on the mattress so that he could better talk to his daughter who sat opposite. I didn’t want to interrupt or just hang up, so I took the time to tidy away the bowl I held, as well as the iced tea I didn’t much like the look of. I was quiet with it, pushing them back onto the trolley but kept hold of the small plate of cakes I had on the bedside table, having had an eye on one of the brownies since it had first been wheeled in.

I still had a couple of makeup wipes left in the packet I’d used that morning by the bed, so I used one to swipe away the heavy black sat under my eyes, internally promising myself that I would cleanse before I ultimately fell asleep.

“Really? Show me!”

I seemed to tune back in at the sound of the small voice, face a little glowy and a touch red from the wipe I’d just used but thankfully now free of smudgy panda patches. 

“You there?”

Blinking, I realised belatedly that Marshall had been addressing me there. I was confused and a little slow in reapproaching the screen, but smiled softly at the sight of Em and his actual mini me, because it was just maddening how much of him she had been given.

“I’m here.” I said, almost a little shyly, unsure but prepared to end the call so that he could spend some time with his daughter. But he went and surprised me, completely actually, because he handed the phone over to Rosie who beamed at the sudden sight of me, gaze lighting up with some sort of recognition.

She was young, I noted, younger than Lottie by a couple of years but not by many. She wore her long hair in a ponytail with a pretty bow at the very top, as well as a smile that seemed to only emphasise her bright eyes. “I can’t believe you’re the El Dad’s been talking about.”

Out of everything I’d expected her to say, that had been pretty low on the list– if it had even been there at all. My mouth parted just as my eyes darted over to where Marshall was sat just behind the girl, still in shot but off to the side. He acted as though he hadn’t heard a word, gaze stuck on the hand he was running through the end of the girl’s hair. Ah, so it was like that, was it?

“Oh yeah?” I ended up chuckling, mostly to ease my emotions and the whirling thoughts that had erupted, immensely glad that I’d had the foresight to wipe my face clean before she’d said hello. I could only guess that she’d probably heard some of my music from that reaction, before I was hastily reminded of the fact that she had been one of the few that had shown Em that video of me. 

There was a hurried nod of her head, “Your songs are some of my favourites!”

I grinned softly at that, immensely pleased by the sweet sentiment, and only hoped that her favourites were some of my newer stuff, instead of the few songs I’d realised before I’d gotten signed, those were angry and aimed at a whole other audience.

“I’ve listened to a couple of yours too.” I shot back teasingly, smile only growing when I caught sight of Em’s slight frown as well as Rosie’s own, “My favourite songs from your dad all feature you.”

She seemed to like that answer and giggled, going on to tell me a little about the last song she could remember helping with. I listened attentively, nodding along and commenting when I could, actually surprised by the amount of knowledge she seemed to have picked on whilst growing up around her dad.

It was just after she said something about the upcoming album that her eyes went wide in shock and she gasped, spinning back around to look at her dad over her shoulder. Marshall stared, baiting the kid into thinking she’d gone and let the big secret slip, which in itself had me fighting down a chuckle, before he soon cracked. 

He cowered playfully when Rosie jumped at him, giggling at the thought that she’d gone and ruined it all for him, only growing louder when the man tickled her sides to roll her off him. The camera followed the pair, landing with a thump somewhere on the floor, before Marshall was back, obviously having picked it up and holding it up high enough so that I could see the little girl’s narrowed eyed expression behind him. Her smile did little to infuse the scowl she bore. 

I bit back my own.

Em took a deep breath and steeled his expression a tad, “Try that again, girlie. I dare you.”

“Dad.” The girl complained as the man knocked her back down when she tried to kneel her way on closer to the phone. I laughed quietly at them and shook my head, catching him watching me for a second too long when I looked back, but then he was sitting over by the headboard again, encouraging the girl to join him too.

When she poked her tongue out at him, he pulled a face in return. It was a moment I was content to be a part of but which also reminded me of the days of when Lotts had been that young, back before I’d managed to score studio time or even a meeting with a label exec.

I must've been wearing an odd look because Marshall’s mouth twitched when he glanced back at me, lifting a single eyebrow. I knew what he was asking with the action and so I dipped my chin in a slow gesture to assure him I was okay.

The night continued on like that for a little while longer, just the three of us talking, Rosie telling us about the afternoon she’d spent with her sister, before Em finally managed to rouse her into getting ready for bed. I took that to be lights out for me too, listening quietly whilst he sent the little girl on her way, promising that he’d be there to tuck her into bed in just a second.

My smile was all mushy when his door rattled shut, I knew it too but was too tired to hide it so simply settled for relaxing my head further against the headboard. His face went through a rapid relay of emotions when he caught it though, before he eventually stamped out anything recognisable. I blinked blearily in return.

“‘Til tomorrow?” I assumed, chuckling softly whilst he dragged a hand over the top of his head. I noticed then that the blond was gone.

He gave a hum, voice low in the quiet of his room, “You gotta be up to catch a plane.”

A wave of anticipation hit me at the very reminder and even as sleepy as I felt, I continued to smile. “I do.”

A quiet pause dragged between us, an odd tension building. I waited for him to say something, perhaps another reminder or–

“Get some sleep.”

Or that.

I swallowed back my grin and then nodded. “You too.”

The tiniest beginnings of a curl could be made out on his lips before he shook his head and turned, leaving me with a black screen and a tally of our time spent on call.

3 hours 17 minutes

[muzzlemouths]

Apologies if this has been asked already, but is there any chance we might get to see what those conversations between sun and moon were like? I just started reading (Don't) Fear the Reaper and now that I know they talk when Sun is quiet, I can't help but wonder what's being said.

When I eventually get around to writing the follow-up fic (which will explore the story from Sun's pov) you'll get to see each and every conversation they had!

Since I'm not sure when that will be (and I have a rough version of what it might look like already written up in my notes) I'll go ahead and drop it here for you to chew on in the meantime :3

This conversation occurs in their personal cabin when y/n first finds out about Moon's existence. I've left the original lines in for context, but they'll be indented so you know what is and isn't internal.

“We?” You watch with growing curiosity as he freezes in place and winces, like he’s just been caught in a lie.

“Sun—”

“I know, I know.”

“Fix it.”

There it is, again. That distant expression like his mind is somewhere else entirely. You aren’t sure if robots are capable of internal monologue, but if they are, his must be pretty intense for the absolutely guilty expression he wears before smothering it with another mocked up smile.  “Me and…Moon,” he answers, voice pitifully small. 

“What are you doing?”

“It’s better to be honest, isn’t it? They’re going to find out eventually.”

“No. No. You’re going to say something you shouldn’t.”

“I can handle myself in a conversation just fine, thank you very much. I have so fa—”

“You don’t know when to shut up.”

His smile falters, eyes panicked like a child being scolded.

Moon. You recognize the name from the conversation with Oscar earlier, how scared he had looked from the mere mention of it. You aren’t entirely sure how to navigate this situation, but if this Moon has everyone up in arms, there must be a good reason for it, right? “Is he…dangerous?” 

“....Well? Am I?”

“Oh, now you want me to talk?”

“Just thought they should know all the grisly details, since you seem keen on being truthful.”

Sun hesitates to answer. He bides his time by tending to your ankle, instead. Carefully drawing your shoe away like a reverse cinderella, then gently turning your ankle in all directions to get a feel for the damage. 

“You’re not being fair.”

“Go on, tell them.”

“I don’t think that’s a good ide—”

“Tell them how I butchered her. How I didn’t stop until her pulse flickered under my hand.”

“Moon—”

“Tell them how much I regret letting go.”

“I—”

“Tell them how often we think about her blood caking our palms. How relieving it felt to finally—”

“It doesn’t feel broken,” he tells you. 

“Don’t ignore me.”

“I think you might have just twisted it. Should be in tip-top shape by morning!” He faces you with that telltale smile once more, only for it to droop significantly when you don’t immediately mirror his relief. It’s not the answer you’re waiting for. 

“Hypocrite.” Moon snarls. “Cornered yourself. Now you’re the animal stuck in a trap.”

“Little rabbit…” he sighs. “You are very, very lucky, you know. This could have been much worse.”

Pebbles climb in your throat, brought on by his words. Each bigger than the last and taking up space where you need to breathe. They rattle with every inhale, collecting in great heaps the longer he fits you with that emotionless stare. You don’t think he’s referring to your ankle, anymore.

“Cruel. Warning a rabbit with one foot already in a trap.”

“They’re smarter than you think.”

“It’s too late to save them.”

“...I know.”

“Then why bother?”

A twig snaps just outside the door, relieving you of his piercing gaze as his neck wrenches to follow it. Just a squirrel.  “Sun, I—” “Anyone can be dangerous,” he whispers, eyes still zeroed in on the animal.

“Caaareful.”

“I told you, it’s better to be honest," Sun's optics twitch ever briefly. "They ought to know it isn’t you they should fear.”

[danosrosegarden]

a dream - edward nashton

a small piece in where edward nashton has a dream about a family.

[angst + childhood trauma]

{838 words}

edward drifted into dreams in fear.

it was brutal, always brutal. he'd wake up with his reddened eyes aching and the stench of sweat sealed onto his skin. it infiltrated his bloodstream, coating his cells with an agony that was thick and syrupy. it was injected into the hollow bubbles of his bones, filling his marrow with a misery that was sharp and piercing.

one night. he didn't speak to god much anymore, but he found himself asking often for just one night of clear, crisp, breathable nothingness. a dreamless sleep. a rest where the scent of his old room didn't linger under his nose or the memory of his fingertips being chewed raw didn't tingle on his skin.

he stayed up late most evenings. it was a good way to avoid the towering monster of those dreams. the bitter, flurry-speckled air from outside his apartment seeped in through the walls and vents. christmas eve in gotham! he should feel the merry joy thumping loud and strong in his heart. but the miserable bags tugging hard underneath his eyes. but the heavy, suffocating silence. but the deafening loneliness. but the godforsaken dreams.

he'd crawled into bed and let his eyes flutter shut with a deep, impending sense of doom. sleep knocked him out quick, and for awhile, it was all the same. agonizing air sizzling on his broken skin. the old walls of the room in the orphanage. the faint echoes of weary weeping ringing in his ears.

it all seemed to melt at once, the scent of the spoiled-milk memories circling the drain and fading away. his world blurred.

he felt a warmth. a warmth he'd yet to feel in any dream before. it all slowly came into focus...a fireplace. his eyes fastened on a burning orange fireplace. he listened to the flame crackle and pop before it happened. safehaven. the tender, quiet air felt like home. a home he'd never stepped foot in, a home he'd longed for for as long as he could yearn.

and then there it was. a feathery-light weight in his cradled arms. he peered down and let out a quiet gasp.

tiny hands. impossibly small. nearly unbelievable, had it not been for the fact that they were grasped onto his index finger. it was real, he swore it, god, he could feel it. small, shallow breaths in and out, the little rising and falling of their chest. eyes closed, drifted away in a gentle rest.

edward's breath seemed to slow entirely as he stared at the creature sleeping in his arms. everything about them was so impossibly small, so terrifyingly fragile. he was afraid that if he blinked too hard or drew a breath too loud, they'd shatter.

their eyes fluttered open, and he felt a shock of fear strike through him. he stared into the watery irises of the little thing.

"hi there," he heard himself whisper gently.

for a moment, it was nothing but warm, ambient quiet. two sets of eyes looking deep into each other. a language not yet shared, but a tender feeling silently and mutually understood.

and then there it was. the slow upturn of the corners of their mouth. a loud, joyful giggle. edward gasped, breaking into a wide smile.

"hi, darling," he said, the sound of his grin trickling through his words.

at once, he was overwhelmed with the burst of a bright, sunny future. colored pencil scribbles stuck to his fridge. small, light-up shoes placed next to his by the front door. packing lunches. signing permission slips. responsibility. trust. unwavering, undying, unconditional, unbelievable love. a love that was buried deep inside the meaty strings of his heart, a love so loud and intense that it threatened to burst.

not for a singular second did the thought cross his mind of where they came from, what they were doing here. it seemed as if all the blood and bones in his body just knew it from the moment he looked down into his arms...they are mine. through the nights i spent freezing, shivering, and silently sobbing in the orphanage, they were mine. through the lifetime of self loathing that dripped into my raw, sore throat like mucus, they were mine. there is no question. there is nothing i wouldn't do for you. i would cheat and rob and lie and steal and kill and there was never, ever any question. you are mine.

as fast as the bursting heart blossomed throughout his body, it snuffed itself out and edward woke up. the heavy, billion-pound sinking feeling was immediate.

but how lovely it was to gaze upon your smiling face for just a quick glance, his eyes said. how great of an honor it was to cradle you for a second, his arms whispered. how sanctifying an experience it was to know you at all, his body sighed.

edward rubbed his eyes and pulled the covers up closer to his chin, thinking of some place enveloping and warm as he drifted into a dreamless sleep.

[darsynia]

Don't Read the Last Page | Chapter 3 (Tony/Reader)

Summary: Your friend Nat claims her plan to distract Tony Stark with her sex appeal isn't working, so she wants you to do it with your brain--and a sexy red dress. Things start out completely over your head and get more complicated when SHIELD becomes involved.

Length/Warnings: 4,200 | none (future smut!!)

My Tony tag list is basically in shambles, going commando here, blame the surgery haha. Had this half done and decided to YOLO and finish editing.

OH FFS I PUT CHAPTER TWO AND IT'S THREE. BLAME THE EYE!

Masterlist | MCU Masterlist | Tony Stark Masterlist | Prev | Next

Exerpt:

“A conscience? You haven’t done anyth--” you start to say, but he interrupts you with mercurial suddenness.

“I’m dying. I want to touch you, and I’m dying, so I want to do it now. Not in a week, not tomorrow, not when I’m sober, now. But I can’t get out of the suit. I’m stuck.” His expression is bleak, and he’s watching you like he knows what you’re going to say. You say the first thing you think of, because it’s obvious he’s expecting it.

“That sounds like a lie meant to manipulate.”

“You’re right. Eighteen months ago I might have said I was dying to persuade a woman to sleep with me and not even feel bad. Eighteen months ago it wouldn’t have been true.”

Chapter Three: Gone With the Wind

Just when you thought the night couldn’t get more chaotic, someone wearing a silver version of Stark’s suit interrupts his drunken microphone speech and tells him to ‘shut it down.’ 

Natasha pulls you into an alcove shortly before the crowd stampedes away from the coming confrontation.

“Bad planning. They’re running away from him, sure, but that’s not towards an exit,” Nat laments. Seconds later, the two Iron Man suits power past you through multiple walls, the crowd panics, and you hear someone calling out for help. It’s the DJ.

Nat refocuses on you. “Okay, here’s what you’re going to do: go upstairs, turn left, go up to the keypad on the second door and put in 1122. That’s my code. You should be safe in there. If you get too worried, head into the bathroom, those are always reinforced.”

“You want me to stay here?” 

“He’ll associate me with the party, he already likes you, and someone’s got to stick around to keep an eye on him. Please?” Natasha is offensively good with puppy-dog eyes.

“Oh, all right. Are you going to help the DJ?” you ask. Nat nods and makes a shooing motion. You start up the stairs, slipping your shoes off and running when you feel the whole building shake. You barely make it into the bathroom (because yes, reinforced sounds like the only safe place to be, right now) when a gigantic crashing noise and sounds of fighting make you cower in the large bathtub.

There’s only one silver lining, and it’s really freaking thin: even Nick Fury couldn’t blame you for this, right? This could have happened even if you hadn’t ever set foot in the house. Stark was planning to get entirely hammered tonight, you’re completely certain of it. As you huddle in the bathtub (it’s basically hot-tub sized, and you have to laugh at yourself for having the glass doors around it closed, as if that will stop anything) with your high heels beside you, you feel a twinge of conscience.

You want to help.

You’ve always been good at coming up with rationalizations, reasons to do or not do things, and your helpful brain is starting to do that about this, even though you’re basically a Red Shirt in this scenario. The thing is, Stark did seem to want to listen to you, and definitely wanted you to think you were influencing him, even though you are completely sure he was planning to get hammered at the party. You’ve cared about the man for years, though more in a ‘what famous person would you have lunch with’ way than a ‘what famous person’s house do you want to cower in the bathtub of’ way.

In the back of your mind, a gossipy little voice points out that you could have gotten a few kisses and even some groping out of the man if all hell hadn’t broken loose.

Bottom line, aren’t you as qualified as any other ‘pluck a random pretty girl off the street’ candidate to try to persuade this man not to rush headlong into any more disasters?

“Too late, in case you haven’t noticed?” you groan.

On the other hand, if Natasha couldn’t trick him into calming down, what chance do you have? You’ve heard some of her stories, and even back when you thought she was just making shit up, they’d been impressive. Couldn’t Nick Fury find someone else to do his scut work? By the look on Pepper Potts’ face tonight, Stark seems to have alienated her fairly neatly without your help, which is a relief, really, because you’d really hated the subtle implications Fury had made about standing between a burgeoning relationship. You’ve always loved romance novels about two people that everyone else thinks aren’t meant for each other, but it all works out because they have true love.

That gossipy voice in your head really likes that statement, and not because of Pepper Potts. Having Stark’s attention on you had been heady, and you would have been all for it had you not been in such a public place. 

You’re certain he would have kissed you if you’d had let him, and just thinking that makes you shiver more thrill than fear, despite your current predicament. Now, though? Now he’s drunk. VERY drunk. Can’t consent drunk. Which is another great reason to get out of here, because if the man you’ve crushed on for years (so maybe you aren’t just interested in his brain after all?? That same voice asks tartly) expresses interest when there’s no crowd, no music, no other eyes on you, you’re still going to have to say no.

The smashing sounds stop, and you can hear arguing instead. Maybe there’s a chance to get out of the house while that happens? You are pretty sure there are holes in the floor, and that’s just not safe.

You stand up. You’re in the middle of picking up your shoes and reaching out to open the glass door so you can climb out of the tub when a gigantic shockwave knocks you off your feet, shaking the house and breaking the glass that surrounds the tub. You hit your head on the faucet as you collapse.

Everything starts to have a dreamlike quality to it, and you can see a few little cuts on your legs and arms. They don’t actually feel like anything, even though you can see the blood. At most, they sting. In any case, you feel like someone has injected you with some kind of drug, because you’re sleepy and don’t really care about anything but huddling up in your tub.

All your instincts are screaming that this is not the time to rest, but it’s too late to listen.

You come back to reality with a headache. Taking stock of your situation, you find that miraculously, you’re not really hurt. There are a few scratches, but that’s it. Either way, you sit up and see that the tub is basically littered with thousands of small chunks of tempered glass. Clearing your shoes of as much glass as you can while you feel woozy, you wipe off the bottom of your feet and put them on, so at least you won’t be stepping on glass to get out.

The process of climbing out makes you rant about the whole situation, and you don’t try to be quiet about it, either. There’s no way you could have predicted that a simple party invite would end up like this!

Though, maybe Nick Fury did?

You frown.

Stark’s voice calls up from somewhere below you. “Hello? Someone up there?” You’re about to respond, frozen on the spot when he continues, making it clear that he’s still affected by the alcohol. “If it’s Pepper, I blame you for inviting Rhodey. I told you he was a killjoy!”

The name sounds familiar somehow, but you can’t place it. Given that the only killjoy you observed was the man in the other Iron Man suit, you’re betting that’s who Stark’s referring to.

“Not Pepper,” you call out.

Technically, you’ve done what he asked. You stuck around. It wasn’t on purpose, though. 

When you walk out into the bedroom, you catch your breath. The floor has a hole in it. There are cracks spidering out all around it, and nothing looks structurally sound. You can see the door  maybe ten steps away in total-- but you don’t think there’s a safe pathway over to it.

“Shit, now what?” you say to yourself.

A strange sound catches your attention, and you look over toward the hole in the floor to see Stark levitating up through it, using the power of the devices in the hands and feet of his suit.

“Hey, you’re still here! Great.”

He starts sideways, like he’s moving over to land on the section of floor you’re worried about.

“Wait!” you shout. “It’s not safe.”

“Well, look at that,” Stark says. He sounds like he’s looking at a piece of confusing artwork, or a picture of some stranger’s grandchildren. You watch as he maneuvers over to the door, opens it, and lands on the other side. “Seems stable here. No cracks.”

Stark beckons, and you groan inwardly. 

“It’s not safe to walk on,” you say, speaking slowly in hopes of getting through to Drunk Stark.

“I can come get you!” he announces brightly.

“I’m not sure you’re in any condition to--”

He’s already levitated over, crouched down, and banded an armored arm around your waist by the time you make it through half of your admonition.

“If anything happens, I’ve got you,” Stark says. You give in against your better judgment, as he doesn’t wait for any confirmation from you to start heading across the cracked concrete. Once you’re through the doorway on the other side, you slump against the wall in relief.

“I wouldn’t have let you fall,” he tells you, leaning over to catch your eye.

“Knowing that and making my scared body believe it are two different things,” you tell him. You watch as he tries to parse that, still a bit too drunk for complicated phrasing. After a few seconds, he just shakes his head and looks you up and down.

“Couple of cuts, but I’m fresh out of band aids. You feel okay?” You nod, and Stark makes a wry face and looks down at himself. “Ordinarily I’d offer to ‘check for broken bones,’” (and he actually does the scare quotes with his armored fingers) “--but I’m kind of screwed into this thing, and the machine I use to get me back out is in pieces.” He does a little shrug thing that makes you smile. Something tells you that when he sobers up, he’ll care that he’s stuck in the suit, but for now he’s fine. Given how destructive his behavior was earlier that night, maybe it’s for the better.

“I was hiding in the tub, which was fine until that last shockwave. I fell down and the glass shower door shattered,” you tell him. It sounds a lot less dramatic than the actual experience, somehow.

“And yet, that damned gold shawl made it through!” he says, waving one gauntlet in the general direction of your chest. “You know, there’s no real evidence I’m not still passed out downstairs,” Stark muses, leaning over to look into the room they just came from. “I’ve had dreams like this. You’re probably not actually real, and I’m just imagining that I have one more present to open for my birthday.”

“And I hit my head, so this might all be an elaborate hallucination where I’m alone with you in your house but you can’t take your armor off,” you joke, reaching up to feel the back of your head. “It wouldn’t matter anyway. You’re drunk and can’t consent.” There’s a small lump there that’s tender, but it doesn’t seem to be anything serious. Stark is silent, and you feel your face flush at your presumption. You glance over at him after counting ten seconds in your head.

He doesn’t seem offended. He seems intrigued. He’s got one hand against the wall a few feet down from you, leaning against it. Stark’s looking at you, his head tipped to the side. 

“You’re more relaxed,” he says, sounding confused. “You were here through our whole fight, stuck in a bathtub full of glass next to a room with a hole in it, and here you are joking around with me! You were a nervous wreck earlier!” As he speaks, he punctuates his words with wild hand gestures, pointing and waving until he loses his balance and crashes into the wall beside you. “Okay, definitely still drunk,” he observes in an amused tone. He turns his body so he’s leaning against the wall with his back instead of his face. “I object, by the way. I think I could prove that if I’d consent to fooling around when I wasn’t drunk, drunk me would definitely consent to it, too.”

“I really don’t like crowds,” you shrug in answer to his first question. “And, that’s not how consent works.” 

“The real question is whether you would consent,” he says, reaching his hand out to trace his armored fingers along the edge of your shawl.

“That answer isn’t relevant,” you say quietly. He gives up touching the fabric and moves to lift your chin so you look at his face. There’s a question in his eyes, one that looks more genuine than a drunk proposition. “Maybe,” you whisper.

“Better,” he says approvingly. Stark shifts along the wall and winces.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

“Yes. Definitely.”

You see that he’s closed his eyes and is starting to slide down the wall. The house is probably not safe for the long term, but you start looking around for somewhere he can rest that’s more comfy than a hallway. The bedroom you’d been in is out of the question, and Nat’s code doesn’t work on two of the other doors. When you come back, Stark has slid all the way down, and is resting against the wall, his legs splayed out.

“Something tells me your helmet is not comfortable like this,” you murmur, noting the way it leans Stark’s head forward because of the bulk of the armor protecting his head. Awkwardly, you manage to kneel down in your tight dress, thanking fate that the man in front of you is insensate, because he would definitely have had something to say about that. Not that the gossipy voice in your head wouldn’t have enjoyed it. “Excuse me? Mr. Stark?” you say, raising your voice a little.

“Mmm? Oh, it’s you.” he says, opening his eyes and smiling in a dopey way. “I get to unwrap you now, right? Party’s definitely over.”

“Does your helmet come off?” you ask bluntly, ignoring his other comments. You like the sentiment, but being distracted isn’t going to help either of you right now.

Despite that, you will admit to feeling a definite rush of pleased excitement when this famous man you’ve been intrigued by for years said ‘oh, it’s you.’ The way the fates like to fuck with you is in strong evidence, though. First you make friends with a super assassin spy person, and instead of calling you in to help with something really impactful, she makes you go to a party, an activity you’ve never really enjoyed. Then, you get to actually meet Tony Stark, and the man seems genuinely interested in you!? But he’s drunk, and you’ll have to turn him down. It’s really just not fair.

“Ooh, very good idea. We should take it off.” Stark reaches up and runs his armored fingers around the contours of the helmet for a good two minutes, somehow brimming with confidence the entire time. Then he drops his hands. “Yep, can’t remember how.”

“You are completely hopeless,” you laugh. There’s something really adorable about him right now, and it tugs at your heartstrings. He has a party reputation but not so much a drunken one; does anyone even get to see him like this? It feels special in an odd way, but maybe that’s just your mind trying to make the moment something other than a complete mess that you have no idea how to extricate yourself from. Much like Stark and his helmet, actually. “Do you remember how but you can’t quite make your fingers work, or is the knowledge hidden in the amber liquid your brain is steeped in right now?”

“That’s poetic,” he says. He groans and leans his head back, but it doesn’t really work because of the helmet. “It was mostly clear liquid though.”

“Do you want me to try?”

“Kitten, if you want to put your hands on me, I’m all for it,” Stark says.

You’d been kneeling beside him, but when he says that, you sit back on your heels, a bit dazed by the lust-soaked grit in his voice. It’s like you’ve been playing a D&D game and someone just rolled a natural 20 on shifting the tone, or something.

“Uh oh, I lost you again.” He’s back to sounding like a slightly lost, adorable man-child. You’re getting dizzy from the shifts, here, but maybe it’s less dizzy than entranced. He’s still charismatic like this, but far more approachable. It’s dangerous, honestly.

“Pick a mood, Iron Man!” you protest.

“Honestly, don’t take this the wrong way, but if I could pick a mood, it would be asleep.” He does a sad little frown, pressing his lips together in wry disappointment.

“Sleep is good,” you tell him. “The problem is, I don’t know where you could safely do that. I also feel like I probably ought to stay with you until you’re out, because you? are not making good decisions tonight.”

Stark looks at you like you have the answers to all the problems of the universe, then opens his mouth and says, “Donuts.”

“You either hardly ever get drunk or your staff is insanely loyal,” you blurt out in irritation.

“I want donuts. In the morning I’m going to go get some. You should stay. I know a really good place. You can’t miss it, it has a huge donut on the roof. Huge,” Stark says, leaning in as if it’s really important for you to believe him. “I bet I could fit in there.”

His eyes widen and he starts scrambling to his feet, grinning.

“Woah, hold on. You are not qualified to decide what you’re doing or where you’re going right now, okay? Talk to me,” you instruct.

Mentally, you’re making a note to tell Nick Fury that you deserve overtime for this. Like you should start out with time and a half. With hazard pay.

“Bossy!” Stark complains, but he sounds almost enthralled. “No, no, you can trust me. Listen. Step one,” he says, holding up one armored finger. “There’s a couch in the basement. And the walls are gone so it’s not locked anymore, so you don’t need a code.” He grins as if this is some kind of brilliant move he’s made, rather than a result of getting drunk and fighting with expensive, unique technology that has seriously damaged the structural integrity of his million-dollar house. “Step two--” this time he holds up the first finger of his other hand, frowns, then puts the first hand up beside it and nods. “Step two, we use JARVIS to call Happy, so you can take a car home.”

From his buildup you had been convinced this step would be at least somewhat coherent, but it doesn’t make any sense to you at all. 

“Let’s work on step one, shall we?”

“Race you!” he says, and you’re forced to watch helplessly as he lifts off, cackling madly, heading for the room with the hole in the ceiling.

It’s clever, ridiculous, and somehow completely Tony Stark. Impulsively, you rip off your shoes and rush down the stairs.

“Shit, I have no idea how to get to the basement!” you exclaim, frustrated. For all you know, Stark flew from one hole to another, but it’s not like you can!

“Forgive the intrusion, but you’ll find them if you take a turn to the right, walk forward until you reach the wall, and turn right again,” a British voice says in a dry voice.

You look around, but you don’t see anyone.

“Does it help if I tell you that I am JARVIS, Mr. Stark’s AI assistant?”

“Yes, actually, it does,” you say, laughing nervously. You follow the instructions, expecting to see the AI’s physical form. “Stark?”

“I’m not answering to that,” he announces, and you follow the sound of his voice. He’s in a room with, yes, the frames for glass walls, but the walls are gone, just like he said they would be. “It’s Tony or nothing.”

“All right, Nothing, let’s figure out how to get that helmet off,” you say, walking into the room to see that he’s sitting on the couch he’d mentioned. “Could you call your AI down here? He helped me find a non hole in the floor way to get down here.”

Goodnaturedly, Stark nods, then calls out through a smile, “JARVIS, could you manifest a physical presence for my birthday present?”

You’re a bit distracted by being referred to that way, so you miss what he’s really saying until the AI responds. 

“I only wish I could, Sir.”

“It was worth a shot,” Stark says.

“He’s a program, not a robot,” you realize aloud. 

“Yep,” Stark says, yawning.

Over the next five minutes, you speak with the AI as Stark heckles you both between yawns. As time passes, he seems to be losing the nonstop giddy drunken behavior, inserting morose introspection into the mix.

You find out that ‘happy’ is actually the nickname for the Mr. Hogan you met earlier. He’s at the police station smoothing over the fallout from the fight between Stark and the other man, the ‘Rhodes’ you’d heard Nat and Hogan speaking about. Rhodes apparently left with the other suit, but considering that the device to take it back off is out of commission, it kind of makes sense. It’s not like Stark’s in any condition to fix anything.

With JARVIS’s (slightly snarky, which you kind of love) help, you get Stark’s helmet off.

“Thanks,” he says, launching himself to his feet to look at the black mirror of the flat-screen television across from the couch. He examines the skin of his neck with obvious consternation.

“Did I hurt you?” you ask, worried. You come over, but Stark stumbles back, putting his hands up. The gold shawl catches on a metal gauntlet and is pulled off of you.

“Okay, that was awesome, but I swear I didn’t plan it,” Stark says, waving the arm that’s caught in the shawl like it’s a trophy. Then he looks at you, instead of the shawl. “Oh.”

You are pretty sure your face matches your clothing in hue right now. He’s staring, amusement faded into an admiration that’s almost fierce. Stark’s eyes are glittering, and you can feel the heat of them as he looks up from your chest to your face.

“All teasing about presents aside, I really like the dress,” he says in a quiet, rough voice. He winces, reaches up to rub his eyes or his forehead in some way, but stops, frowning at the metal glove he’s wearing. Stark’s smile is bitter and humorless when he shifts his gaze back to you. “Ever since I’ve gotten back from Afghanistan, my life’s just been irony piled on irony. Fuck, even that term is apropos.”

He collapses onto the couch and groans. You’re completely taken aback. He’s gone from a somewhat expected reaction (you’d known he would like what you’d been covering up, he’s Tony Stark) to this display of utter frustration, but you have no idea why. You suspect Fury might know, though, and that thought makes you worried about the defeated cast of Stark’s shoulders as you watch him grapple with whatever is going on.

“The stupid part is, I didn’t even need to grow a conscience right now, but it’s there,” he says, looking over at you.

“A conscience? You haven’t done anyth--” you start to say, but he interrupts you with mercurial suddenness.

“I’m dying. I want to touch you, and I’m dying, so I want to do it now. Not in a week, not tomorrow, not when I’m sober, now. But I can’t get out of the suit. I’m stuck.” His expression is bleak, and he’s watching you like he knows what you’re going to say. You say the first thing you think of, because it’s obvious he’s expecting it.

“That sounds like a lie meant to manipulate.”

“You’re right. Eighteen months ago I might have said I was dying to persuade a woman to sleep with me and not even feel bad. Eighteen months ago it wouldn’t have been true.”

Something inside you shifts, clicking into place. It pushes away the guilt you feel about Nick Fury and SHIELD, turns your worry about your deadline into something hazy and indistinct, focusing instead on that thread of interest you’d had for Tony Stark for years. It solidifies that thread into braided wire, and before you even understand it fully, binds the two of you together.

The strength of that shift frightens you. It’s sudden, but durable. You don’t think you’re going to be able to shake it. You’re not sure you’ll want to.

“You look terrified. You should be.” Stark starts tossing the things that had been on the other cushion of the couch off onto the floor. “Go home. Have an uncomplicated life. Maybe come to my funeral.” He turns his body, throws his feet up, and arcs one of his armored arms over his eyes as he leans back on the couch.

“Miss, there is a tonic that mitigates his symptoms. It can be found in the garage refrigerator. It’s possible that part of Mr. Stark’s current melancholy stems from the combination of the effects of the alcohol and the period of time since he’s had any tonic.”

The brusque British voice startles you. “He’s really dying? What--”

“Palladium poisoning,” Stark says from under his arm.

“Tell me where the tonic is,” you say, looking up at the ceiling.

To be continued...

[spideyanakin]

10 Things I Hate About you - Chapter 5

Eddie Munson x Harrington!reader

synopsis - A new rule strikes the Harrington household: if Steve wishes to date ever again, his sister needs to find a boyfriend first. As Steve becomes desperate and thinks of everything in his power to set her up, only one guy comes to mind that will take up a challenge such as that: Eddie Munson.

warnings - way too much fluff, ties in with season 1 (rip Barb), talks about Eddie's past (so trigger warning?), lotr references, one lil suggestive moment, angst if you squint

word count - 14.5k

Proof read by the amazing @inknopewetrust

series masterlist 🌻

the playlist

There was not a time in your life where you once believed you would feel like a main character in one of those cheesy romantic comedies your mom liked to watch on Friday nights.

Never did you think you would close the door to your house with a dumb smile plastered across your lips and a lovesick sigh would proceed to tumble from your body as your bag slid from your shoulder to find its spot beside the umbrella rack. You bit your lip, leaning against the white wood of your entry door in a daze.

Never did you think that the warm fuzzy feeling the young female lead always described would be coursing through your veins, astonished in the best of ways when the images of today flashed through your mind. Was this how Juliet felt when she first met Romeo at that masked ball? You felt dizzy; light and floating at the same time. Your fingers traveled by themselves to your lips as the ghost of his own haunted your thoughts. 

What had just happened? 

Eddie fucking Munson. 

That's not what, but who. 

The crazy metalhead who turned out to be the most amazing person you had ever set your eyes on. The one who would play torturous games of tags with teachers and spend half of his life getting detentions he never stepped foot in. 

That boy had come into your life like a hurricane. Ravaging every single one of your well thought out plans and everything you had seemed to set your mind on only to leave everything in the dust to be swept away with the wind. It only left you to become helplessly and hopelessly submerged by his existence.

"Y/n?" Your mom's wavering voice came from the kitchen, "Darling, is that you?" You could hear her footsteps on the colored carpet coming toward the entryway. 

"Yeah, mom, it's me." 

"Oh my God! Where were you?" She sighed out, voice cracking in relief.

"Out?" You said, nonchalantly as if you did it often and it wasn’t unusual. Slipping your shoes beside the door, you wiggled your socked feet out and kicked your shoes perfectly against the wall before walking the few steps towards the kitchen archway.

She was already halfway to you. Half of her hair stuck in bright pink and yellow hot rollers, her pink cotton shirt falling off one shoulder and worry creases marked between her eyebrows.  Her makeup done up and her eyes in a personified version of panic. 

Behind her, Steve sat on the counter with an unbothered gaze and a glass of orange juice between his fingers. He was fixing a strand of hair falling on his forehead before he took a sip of his juice. You noticed your father next to him, facing you with a stern look in his eyes. He was well dressed in his best polo and white dress pants. 

It was obvious your parents were getting ready to go somewhere and you were a stickler in their evening plans.

"Never do this to us again," your mother took a bated breath before continuing on. Her shaking hands reach for you to wrap her arms around your shoulders.

"O-ok?"

"Where were you?"

"I told you she was out with her boyfriend!" Steve smirked in between two sips. You glared at him from behind your mother’s shoulder before pulling away.

"I was out with a friend," you corrected. A friend which you had just kissed. But none of that mattered by the way your mother kept her hands on your shoulders and that crease between her brows only deepened, fighting the urge to fall into the panic that had been brewing for hours.

"What happened?" You scanned your mother's face, attempting to clarify the situation.

"You didn't come home after class and with that Byers boy disappearing–"

"Mom,” you interjected. “I'm fine."

"But you could have not been! We don't know what happened to Joyce’s boy and if someone’s out there snatching up–" 

"Mom,” you stressed again. “I was with someone. Nothing could have happened to me." 

And she frowned as your words sunk in, sighing and gripping your shoulder tighter and tighter until all of her weight was on you and the pressure was enough to make a bone ache. It was the worry of a mother.

"I was worried sick."

"I'm fine. Trust me,” you nodded, slipping out of her arms to go grab a glass of orange juice for yourself.

“Why is your hair wet?” Steve narrowed his eyes on you. He was poking around for insights on his plan and hoping that your parents would see you were up to something. 

“We went paintballing and I took a shower.”

“What do you mean ‘we?’” Your father raised an eyebrow.

“Her and her boyfriend,” Steve sang. 

“Boyfriend?”

“Well…it’s not like we’ve labeled anything–”

“I KNEW IT!” Steve pointed his finger at you.

“Steve-”

“Well, I’m glad you're home safe,” your father continued, too tired to go further into this conversation. “Both of our kids are home safe… Now, shall we finish getting ready? We also have our suitcases to prepare for tomorrow,” he turned his attention to your mother.

“Where are you guys going tonight?”

“Enzo’s.”

“Ah ok,” you nodded before opening the cupboard and grabbing the first glass that fell between your fingers; an old mustard glass from when you were a kid. The white cat from Disney’s Aristocats was painted on it. You took a short glance at it only to notice the tail was starting to fade off from the amount of times you’d used and washed it. “I might be going to the search.”

“Search?”

“The search for Will Byers. Half of the town is going,” you placed the glass on the counter before reaching for the orange juice carton next to Steve.

"Is that ‘boyfriend’ of yours coming with you?" Your father further questioned. 

"Nope," you shook your head, hoping your smile would be enough to shove the subject away. 

"I don’t like you going alone."

"As I said, there's a whole party going. Chief Hopper included."

Your father thought for a second, pursing his lips before nodding. “Don’t come home too late.”

“Sure, yeah, of course.”

"Well,” Steve slipped off the counter and winked at you as he turned to put his glass in the sink. “I’m going to Nancy’s to study.” 

"You're going to who's?" The surprise in your father’s voice was evident.

"Steve’s new love interest," you took a sip, excited to see the arguments your brother would throw at your dad.

“Potential new love interest!” He corrected you.

"Steve-"

"You said I could date when she does!" He raised his hands in innocence before slithering his way out of the room like a cheeky cat who had just captured the mouse. "Rules are rules, Dad."

“I don’t have time for this,” your father pinched the bridge of his nose and gave you one last look as if to tell you 'be safe' before turning around on his heels and exiting the kitchen, your mother following behind with not another word spoken.

~

“Rumor is,” Tommy beamed as he approached Carol and Steve, wrapping an arm around her shoulder–a large smirk plastered on his face, “the Freak and your sister are dating.” 

“I KNEW IT!” Steve threw his fist in the air in victory. “She came back home late yesterday after a totally not date with him.” Steve chewed on his bubble gum as he spoke, excitement rising in his chest at the idea. Everything was finally going according to plan, he grinned, looking around the bright hallway for any signs of you. He unfortunately didn’t spot you in the multitude of heads bopping around the corridor and turned his attention back to his friends.

“How’d you know?”

“People spotted them together in the hallway this morning before class. They kissed apparently.”

“This is actually going well,” Carol chuckled. “Who would have thought?” 

“Not me,” Tommy laughed.

“Damn,” Steve scoffed in surprise. He hadn’t expected for the plan to go that well, but He sure as shit could finally go out with Nancy now and that was all that mattered. 

On the other end of the hallway, hidden by the sea of students, Eddie had been waiting for you. Leaning on the wall by the door to Mrs. Click’s class, ee was toying with the chain attached to his jeans as he blankly stared at the little window opening. He could spot Mrs. Click bright red curls poking atop her head as she moved around the board. Eddie could almost hear the loud thud of her giant ruler colliding with whatever she had written on the board, continuing to go on about whatever country she had been rambling about. He thought this would forever be a trauma sound; anchored into his mind, doomed to haunt him every time he saw a world map. 

Finally, after what felt like a hellish eternity, the door opened and there you were: angelic as ever as you fixed your grip on your bag and pulled your walkman out of your back pocket. 

Eddie pushed himself off of the wall. He met your gaze as he got closer and wished he could permanently tattoo in his brain the smile that lit your features when you spotted him. His whole being buzzed with happiness as you strutted over and gave his cheek a peck. Eddie hummed in appreciation before you wrapped arm around his waist and his fell over your shoulder. 

It quickly became obvious that the onslaught of students would make walking like a pair more difficult. So as fast as your limbs had found purchase on the other, they left and returned to their homes at the sides of your bodies. 

“What tape did you bring today?” He asked, bumping his shoulder into yours instead.

“Rebel Yell.” 

“Of course you listen to Billy Idol,” he chuckled.

“And of course you wouldn’t,” you gave him your best smile. “Let me guess, it isn't metal enough for you?”

“Bullseye” Eddie pretended to throw a dart, a popping sound emitting from his lips as he let the imaginary dart go and it hit the red center. 

“Well, I like Billy Idol very much,” you placed the walkman back in your pocket with the headphones now resting safely on your shoulders. 

"How was the search?" Eddie changed the subject but instantly felt the shift in the conversation. You frowned before answering. He shouldn’t have asked. He should have listened to the gossip of the table beside him at lunch but he couldn’t help it. He was just as invested as everyone else. 

"Led absolutely nowhere," you sighed. You allowed yourself to melt closer to him as you held your notebooks tighter against your chest. "I just hope nothing bad has happened to him. He’s a good, quiet kid.”

Eddie came to a halt in the hallway and made you stop with him. He turned you around so you’d face him, taking your free hand in his. 

"Hey, look, I'm sure he's going to be alright," he took a breath and rubbed your knuckles with his thumb. "Plus they're continuing the search today, they have to find him. This is a small town, and nothing bad ever happens in Hawkins."

"Yeah," you nodded, “I guess you’re right,” you did your best to try and sound hopeful, but the pit at the bottom of your stomach wouldn't budge. You looked up from your red history notebook to find Eddie’s bright eyes staring right back–making you feel just a little bit better.

"C'mon," Eddie nudged you, keeping his hand locked in yours. “Let’s get to class.”

You sighed as you continued your walk through the hall. You were so caught up in the multitude of possibilities as to where Will Byers could be that you didn't think twice about the way Eddie was holding your hand.

In the meantime, Eddie couldn't believe that his fingers were intertwined with yours in the middle of the fucking Hawkins High hallway. He couldn't believe that he was walking with the girl of his dreams by his side and that she was not giving a care in the world about the lingering eyes and odd stares. Eddie had tried to convince himself that this morning had all been a dream. That you hadn’t jumped to hug him the second you met his eyes that morning or that you hadn’t pecked his lips before rushing off into Mr. Davis’ classroom. But the fact that your hand was indeed securely locked in his own made him know this was very much real.

He could hear the patter of his heart climbing up to his ears just thinking about it all.

But the dreamy reality quickly crushed when he spotted Steve's fluffy head of hair. He suddenly remembered that two weeks ago he wasn't even sure of your name. That not even two weeks ago he hadn’t had a clue that you were this amazing girl of his dreams that would make him feel this way. Two weeks ago he would have laughed at the face of anyone that would tell him he was on the road to falling in love. That he was practically sure he had met his soulmate and was utterly captivated in a two-week time frame which seemed so ridiculous. 

The closer the both of you became to Steve, the more he wanted to throw up.

"Oh my God," your voice brought him back.

"What?"

"I cannot believe Steve got his grip on Nancy so quickly," you squeezed his hand tighter and Eddie did too. Perhaps the fear of losing you had iced his veins because the words that left your lips felt too real. Of course Steve would be seen with Nancy. It was the entire point as to why he had paid Eddie in the first place. Now that he had the girl, it felt too likely that Steve would drop the deal and Eddie could try and see how he would go from there.

"What do you mean?" He played dumb.

"Well, now that I've been hanging out with you more, Steve is using this as a ‘get out of jail free’ card."

"Ah,"

"A party?" you heard Nancy squeak. "But it's Wednesday."

"C'mon it will be just a small gathering," Steve gave her a dazzling smile. 

"Well, look who it is!" Tommy Hagen cheered with a bright smirk and you closed your eyes in despair. Of course they had to call you. Carol leaned into Tommy’s shoulder as she eyed you and Eddie up and down, a sly smirk on her lips at the sight.

The hair on Eddie's arm spiked as Tommy's voice traveled up to his ears. He straightened himself up, bracing for the snarky remarks or comments that always came out of his mouth.

Steve turned around at the distraction. And rather than jeer like Carol and Tommy, he was rather happy to be met with yours and Eddie's faces. He was beaming an even brighter smile when he saw your intertwined hands but you quickly slipped yours out of Eddie's before he or his dumb friends could even think of commenting.

Eddie felt his heart plummet back to his shoes at the security that left him. 

"Y/n, you should invite Eddie," Steve pointed to Eddie as if to say ‘this is Eddie, this is who I am referring to’.

"Invite him to what?"

"Our party! Tonight!"

"Party?” You narrowed your eyes at him. “Steve, you can’t just throw a party just because Mom and Dad are gone. What about-"

"-It’s just a small gathering. Just us seven."

"Steve-"

"Eddie, you coming?" Steve cut you off before you could say anything.

Eddie’s eyes widened. He looked confused, scared, in the slightest. He was never invited to the small gatherings of popular kids. He had no idea what it would even be. And in the small gatherings he would do with his friends, they played D and D and smoked and listened to records or tested new music. They had a reason to meet up, something to discuss.  

"Um, yeah… sure?" He side eyed you, and you stared daggers back. He could tell this was annoying you more than you were leading on.

"Good," Steve clapped his hands.

"Oh and bring some stuff," Tommy smirked before patting Eddie's shoulder, Eddie tensing up at the touch.

"Alright," he awkwardly chuckled back, finding your gaze to seek any kind of help you could get from you.

"This is going to be amazing," Tommy rubbed his hands together, grinning from ear to ear, as if he could boss Eddie around and use him just to get some free drugs. 

"No, it’s not,” your tone may have been a bit too dry because every head turned towards you. You gave an uneasy look to Eddie before swallowing and continuing with the rest of your sentence. “because he is not going to bring anything, and we're not coming to this stupid party," you pinched the bridge of your nose, "Steve–can you please just leave us alone for five seconds."

"Never," he almost looked offended upon the request, putting a dramatic hand across his chest. “Y/n, you're my sister. It’s my job to annoy you.”

A beat fell upon the group. Steve rolled his eyes and crossed his arms around his chest while you huffed. Sibling banter hanging thickly through the air and no one really knowing how to make it go away. Everyone knew both of the Harrington siblings were headstrong, each more stubborn than the other.

It was an entrancing silence only either of you could break. Your eyes drifting towards Barb, she was looking at Nancy uneasily as she fixed her grip on her pink spiral notebook.

"You two are coming?" You questioned, your soft words slithering through the tension and making it evaporate into a mere memory.

"Yes!" Nancy beamed shyly. Barb looked as though she wanted to melt from the spotlight behind her and become one with the squeaky white hallway floors.

Nancy was about to continue, speak to something else but Tommy abruptly cut her off. "My god that's depressing," Everyone’s curiosity took the better of them and followed Tommy’s gaze towards whatever he was looking at behind Nancy. 

Johnathan Byers.

The Byers boy was awkwardly standing, a grim look on his face as he pinned a missing persons poster of his little brother on the board amongst the collection of theater posters and recruiting sheets of random clubs and sports teams.

You and Nancy looked at each other. Her sympathy bled from her hands. She was a good person and somewhere, you’d like to believe you were too even in your stubbornness. 

"We should go and say something," she said hesitantly but steadfastly to do so. 

"I don't think he speaks," Carol raised an eyebrow.

"I bet he killed him," Tommy snickered.

It made you sick. Jonathan’s pain was evident. You saw it in Dustin, you saw it in the boys he had grown so close with… Surely Mike had been upset in the Wheeler house which made Nancy more attune as well. But the fact that Tommy could assume such a thing about a boy, barely a man and no older than the lot of you, made you sick. 

And you wished you hadn’t dropped Eddie’s hand for the sake of comfort. 

~

Will Byers.

If there was a level of sweetness to rank the young boys of Hawkins, Indiana, Dustin would reign supreme but Will Byers would always be fighting for that spo. You figured that if he had disappeared into thin air and most of the town didn’t even think to care. Surely enough that assumption came true. Instead, you had people like Steve who only cared about making out with a pretty girl and throwing a dumb party on a school night and girls like Tammy Thompson who were too busy handing out neon pink flyers for the Spring Fling. 

All the while people like Joyce and Johnathan Byers were being ridiculed for caring about their smallest joy disappearing. 

It all seemed ridiculous. 

Ridiculous that not only Steve and his dumb friends, but most of Hawkins, were only thinking about themselves and what mattered in their lives. If it was a kid from the right side of the tracks, some neighborhood like Nancy lived in, everyone would be looking. There would be vigils and strange prayer groups in hopes that the kid would return. 

It made the grip you had on your bag tighter, knuckles going white as your nails dug into your palm. 

You truly hoped he was ok. 

Because if he wasn’t, you didn't know how you could handle seeing Dustin grieve for his closest friend or how you would be able to compose yourself from the pain. 

Those thoughts of Jonathan and where Will may be plagued you for the rest of the day. At your locker, you had been lost in a train of thought. The idea of Dustin being sad and the town forgetting a kind kid made your mind swirl. 

"Boo!" Two hands were draped over your shoulder, making you jolt out of your thoughts and your heart beat out of your chest. You only relaxed when a familiar laughter echoed behind you, turning around to be met with Eddie's mischevious grin.

"You have to stop doing that!" You playfully slapped his shoulder in return.

"Doing what?"

"Scaring me like this!"

"Come on,” he careened, “you love it and you know it’s fun.”

"Not for me," you bumped your shoulder into his as he had done that morning. This time, Eddie slung his arm around your shoulder and walked with you towards the parking lot. 

A rainbow of cars were parked as always; jocks at the wheels of their brand new convertibles while girls sat at the back, swooning over their million dollar smiles. It was the same every day and would always be the same every year. For god knows how long, the same archetypes would run the halls of Hawkins High and the same things would happen over and over again for generations to come. The same crown prince would date the crowned princess while bullying the misfits.

You wondered if the embroiled, eternal circle of Hell would ever come to an end.

"What are you going to do before the... small gathering?" Eddie’s voice felt relaxing amongst the crowd.

"I need to drop off Dustin at his friend's place and then homework, probably. If Steve allows me some peace. How about you?"

"Walk home… then attempt to read Romeo and Juliet."

"Oh my god! Is Eddie Munson finally going to do this homework!? Oh my god, even better, am I rubbing off on you?”

"Maybe," he smirked.

"Also, why walk?"

"Van's at the garage, problem with the gear shift. I brought it in last night."

"Oh,"

"Yeah, but I mean it's not that far, anyways."

"I could drop you off." 

"You don't have to."

"C'mon! Like this, I can hang out with you and we can work together! I don't think I can stand being in the house alone with Steve right now," you pouted, hooking onto the hopes of being as far from Steve for as long as you possibly could.

"Alright," he smirked. "I'll let you bring me home."

"Good. As long as you don't mind that we bring Dustin home first," you slipped the key into your car door and opened it in a swift move, slipping your bag into the back seat.

"I don't mind at all. He seems cool."

"He is. It's not usually one of my babysitting days but his mom wants to make sure he gets home safe with the disappearance of his friend." 

As if on cue, you heard Dustin's voice calling, screaming, your name in his usual enthusiastic tone and closing you into his traditional bear hug.

"How's my favorite troublemaker going?" you huffed, wrapping your arms around him.

"Doin' good," he mumbled against you. He wasn’t doing good, you knew that. 

"You sure?" 

"Yeah."

"Alright," you nodded and pulled away from his embrace. "I'm dropping you off at Mike's, right?” Dustin nodded his head. 

“Also, is it alright if my friend tags along?” You lifted your gaze to stare at Eddie who was awkwardly leaning on your car behind Dustin.

Dustin’s brow scrunched in confusion before following your gaze; his eyes lighting up when he came face to face with the metal head he couldn’t stop babbling about to his friends. He had heard a rumor of a D & D club at the high school he just couldn’t wait to join.

 "You're coming with us!?"

"Yeah," Eddie smiled back, a certain ego boost rising in his chest caused by the stars of admiration apparent in the young boy’s eyes.

"Awesome," Dustin breathed out, as if this was the best news since he read about the announcement of the new Zelda game. You blinked as you registered Dustin's enthusiasm. Somehow, Dustin's best friend was missing but all he could think about was how he was going to be in the same car as his new idol; Eddie Munson.

Dustin waited until everyone was settled; seatbelts fastened and car doors secured shut before popping the question that had been dancing on his lips the second he placed his butt onto your back seat. "So… are you two dating now?"

There was an awkward pause. Eddie looked at you like a deer in headlights, blush creeping on both your cheeks.

You didn't know how to reply. Eddie had made it clear he wanted to go out with you.

You had been acting strangely like a couple for the past few hours. Holding hands in the hallway, stolen kisses in between classes. Your heart beated faster than your thoughts and words escaped you without thinking twice.

"Yeah, kind of," a short smile creeping on your lips as you looked at Eddie for confirmation.

Eddie knew he shouldn’t have felt this relieved when the words left your lips. He had wanted that answer from you with every fiber in his bodyvbut he knew very well this wasn't supposed to be real. This was supposed to never go further than a few planned dates so that Steve could go on dates of his own.

But dammit did he want this to be real. He felt angry and nauseous at the same time, almost close to agony at the mere thought that this had all started around a stupid deal. 

He was beating himself up for not finding you sooner himself.

He knew he had to find a way. 

"OH MY GOD! I KNEW IT! I KNEW IT!!" Eddie’s sulking was quickly shattered by Dustin’s piercing shriek and excited bounces. For a second he was scared the kid was going to hit his head on your car’s beige ceiling yet he seemed to have his bouncing up and down perfectly under control. 

"Dustin-"

"I'M SO HAPPY FOR YOU GUYS," Eddie smiled a bit at the boy's adoration. He knew this kid was a keeper. A heart of gold to be paired with an amazing mind. He just hoped that once he reached high school, he wouldn’t let people like Steve or Tommy Hagan crush all his hopes and dreams in a single sentence.

Eddie wouldn’t be there to protect this kid. He wouldn’t be there to protect his friends and guide them in the adventure that was high school… he’d go on to bigger and better things and maybe, if life didn’t work out like he’d plan and he still stuck in this hellhole of a town, he’d cross paths with Dustin if he ever needed repairs to his potential future car.

"You two are like perfect for each other!" Dustin continued his happy rambles. 

"Really?" Eddie raised an eyebrow, a grin painted over his features as he turned to meet the kid’s eyes.

"Yeah!" He furiously nodded. "Y/n, I'm so glad you listened to me!"

"Dustin! Please–” you tried to stop the fountain of words that Dustin could spew be when he got overly excited.

"What's that now?" Eddie changed his gaze to you like a curious cat pulling on a string until he unraveled all the yarn laid out in front of him.

"Dustin said we should date–"

"I said you two should date!" The two sentences came out like music, mixing together to echo in the car and scramble together.

Eddie grinned from ear to ear, clicking his tongue as he leaned back against the leather seat, "talking about me behind my back I see."

"Only good things, I promise."

"Well, I'm so glad you finally have a boyfriend. Steve will finally stop bugging you." Dustin huffed, making you giggle.

“Hopefully,” you glanced at Eddie who tried to swallow the lump in his throat at the mention of your brother.

You quickly brought your stare back to the road, blushing when you remembered the use of the word boyfriend. It's not like you had labeled anything yet and Dustin was coming in like a hurricane, ready to pull out every potential seed that he found if that meant you got to be happy and prove a point to Steve. Trying so hard to be your mini wingman, even if it meant he had to annoy or embarrass you in the process. You loved him to bits and knew this was all coming from a place of love, however you were desperate to change the subject.

Whatever was happening with Eddie was too fresh and not something to discuss with a twelve year old. You rummaged your brain for anything to ask Dustin, but everything that came to mind was going to potentially remind him of Will.

"Do you listen to metal?" Eddie’s voice made you release the breath you didn’t know you were holding. Once again, your savior. 

"I tried to get him to but he says he never has the time to listen to the tapes I give him," you answered for Dustin.

"That's not true!"

"It is true Dustin! When I give you a tape, I miss my tape, so I ask for it back, and it turns out you didn't even listen to it!"

"Ok, fair enough. But I like what you put in the car when you pick me up. Especially the one band that's like… sabertooth something."

Sabertooth something. He absolutely has not, never in his life, listened to a tape you have given him. 

"Black Sabbath?" Eddie questioned. You didn’t know how Eddie even made that connection when you didn’t.

"Yeah! That one!"

"Oh my god, the kid has taste."

Before Dustin could answer, the car came to a stop. You thought you almost heard a whine leave Dustin’s lips when he spotted Mike's house from the passenger window.

“I don’t want to go,” Dustin melted in his seat. “Can I stay with you and Eddie?”

“Dustin, as much as I love you, Mike is waiting for you,” Dustin groaned, making slow moves to unbuckle his seat belt. “Don’t you have a campaign to do?”

“Yeah, yeah…” he mumbled, not giving you a full answer. He was elusive. At this time on any normal day, he’d catch you up on the progress of the campaign and complain about how Lucas or Mike were playing. Dustin said nothing. He just looked at the house in slight concern. Maybe for Will, maybe for something else.

A part of him just wanted to stay with Eddie and yourself. He wanted to know everything about Eddie Munson and find out if the rumors the 8th graders spoke of the Witch King were true. Eddie didn’t even seem like a villain. He didn’t seem like the freak everyone at the malt shop said or the scary metal head the people at the pool gossiped about. 

"Can we hang out with Eddie more often?" He asked hopefully.

"Yeah, we can," you let out a breathy laugh at his expression. "Now go! Mike is waiting for you and don't forget to call your mom! She's going to be worried sick."

"Yeah, yeah," he whined again as he put  his bag on and opened the door. "I'll leave you and your boyfriend alone," he rolled his eyes and swung the door to a close.

"Bye, Dustin!" You waved your hand and he did the same before taking fast steps toward Mike's house.

Silence fell in the car as you watched Dustin waddle his way over to the white door of Mike’s home. His curly hair bounced as he did. He rang the bell and waited, turning around to meet your gaze and giving you his best toothless smile. You waved a last time before the door swung open behind him to reveal Mrs. Wheeler–well dressed as always. She rushed Dustin in, not noticing your car before closing the door which made her and Dustin disappear behind the perfect suburban house.

Neither of you wanted to be the one to break the silence. 

Dustin's happiness still hanging in the air, both your cheeks hurting from his contagious smile. It was far from uncomfortable, sitting in a car with a giddy smile on your lips and Eddie Munson by your side.

"Boyfriend, hm?" Eddie smiled to himself.

"What?" You turned your head to face him, only to see that he was already staring at you.

"He called me your boyfriend."

"Oh yeah..." you felt the heat rise as the word sunk in.

"I like how that sounds, to be honest." Eddie hated himself for speaking. Digging himself a bigger hole than the one he was already trapped in. Yet everything felt so right.

"I kind of do too," you played with the sleeve of your sweater.

Eddie stayed frozen for a moment, contemplating his next move. His gaze was burning on you as he watched your shy demeanor. He was sure you were going to undo the seams of your sleeve by tugging so hard on the loose string, he could see the turmoil of thoughts reflecting on your features and hard focus on anything that wasn’t him. Trying to find an escape.

Eddie stopped you, grabbing your hand in his, the movement making you look up.

He gave you his sweetest smile, making your heart leap in your chest, feeling him lean in. Left hand coming up to cup your jaw, thumb grazing over the soft skin of your cheek that was burning from his touch. Not a doubt clouded Eddie's mind as he leaned in to kiss you. Not a single ounce of regret flooded him as his lips moved in sync with yours, his hand holding yours tighter.

He would find a way out of this mess he put himself in.

He had too. 

If not for his own sanity, than for yours.

~

"Is that a Millennium Falcon keychain?" You noticed as Eddie's keys clinked together when he held them up to the door, sliding it into the keyhole.

"Yeah," Eddie chuckled. "You didn't notice it last time?"

"Sadly not," you smiled as he opened the door, waiting for you to get in before he did. He closed it behind you, dropping the keys in the fish shaped key bowl on the counter by the door and sloppily removing his shoes, messily tucking them under said counter. 

You removed your own shoes, dropping your bag next to them before following him further towards the kitchen area.

"Do you want anything to drink? Soda, water?" Eddie opened a wooden cupboard, grabbing two tinted blue glasses and placing them on the counter behind him. 

"Water, please," you spoke, admiring as Eddie grabbed one of the two glasses, filling it with water from the tap before handing it to you first. 

"Here's your water, my lady."

"Thank you very much," you winked, taking a sip before looking over to your backpack. "So, we've got some Shakespeare to read and I have history questions to do."

"I'm afraid so..." He looked at you, defeat evident in his eyes.

"It will be alright!” You cheered, “where do you want to work?"

"In my room?"

"Is this a pretext of getting me in your bed, Munson?" you raised an eyebrow and Eddie froze on the spot. The wheels in his brain coming to a stop as you stared back at him with a cheeky smile. "I'm kidding," you chuckled at the look on his face. "Working in your room is perfect."

"Alright," he gave you a nervous chuckle before opening another cupboard and finding a pack of already opened cookies, placing them on the counter between the two of you.

"Can I ask you a question?" Eddie wondered as he grabbed a cookie from the bottom of the plastic package and handed it to you.

You took the cookie, raising an eyebrow before answering, "go ahead."

"How do you do it?"

"Do what?" 

"Handle a brother like Steve," you chuckled at the question. 

“I just don’t,” you took a bite of the cookie Eddie had handed you. “You saw what happened Friday. I survive with a brother like Steve, because I genuinely know I cannot do anything to change him.”

"Fair enough," he grabbed another cookie from the pack, taking a bite out of it before dropping it on the counter and turning to the fridge.

"My turn to ask a question,"

"Go ahead," he answered as he grabbed a carton of milk. Closing the fridge before turning back towards you.

"Where were you for a month last fall? Not jail, I hope?" 

Christ. He couldn’t believe you knew he was gone for so long. He didn’t imagine anyone except his five friends knowing he wasn’t there. 

"Why, you’re scared your new boyfriend has a criminal record?" He raised a challenging eyebrow, the word boyfriend still making butterflies flutter in your stomach.

"No," you rolled your eyes, watching as Eddie poured himself the milk in his still empty glass. He pointed the carton towards you in a silent question, you nodded, chugging the last of your water down before sliding him the glass. "Couldn't care less, honestly. Just curious, people say so many different things…” You trailed on with a cheeky smile, “jail, short-lived porn star career, cult leader, the list goes on. Forgive me for being curious."

"Definitely none of those," he snorted at your list, dipping his half eaten cookie in the milk and taking a large bite. He waited until he finished chewing and swallowed before answering.

 "I was with um, I was visiting my dad while he was on his deathbed."

"Oh," you looked down at your own glass of milk, you seriously didn't mean to open this can of worms. You had never heard a mention of Eddie’s parents and you seriously didn’t mean to intrude in on something that seemed so private to him.

"Hated every minute, to be honest."

"That bad?" You looked back up.

"Well, you know I didn't always live in the trailer park with my uncle," he wiped the cookie crumbs from his fingers on the side of his jeans before leaning closer to you agasin't the counter, "I use to be in an alright apartment, with both my parents," he reached for your free hand, still splayed on the countertop, "of course, I didn't know we were squatters back then, but then my mom died when I was 8 and my dad left, leaving me here with Wayne." 

"That must have sucked," you let him play with your fingers, a pause settling in before you lifted your gaze and made eye contact with him. It was not an uncomfortable one, almost peaceful as his words hung in the air. 

"Yeah," he made a funny face, "he left and ended up meeting this bimbo who I guess managed to put him on the right track. Made him a new family and shit," that took all the words out of you.

"So yeah, I wasn't in jail, or attempting a porn star career; although I might have preferred to be doing that,” he chuckled. “I was visiting him and his new perfect cookie-cutter family. It was a fiasco," he chuckled to himself. "His new wife didn't want to introduce me to her kids as their brother so I was always baptized as Wayne's kid, their freaky cousin from bum-fuck-nowhere, Indiana. She was throwing daggers at me half the time and I spent most of my days at the neighboring mini golf getting high with the manager."

"You did what?" You smiled at the absurdity.

He matched your smile, "he kept playing Metallica and Ozzy, I had to befriend him. Freaks with freaks, am I right?"

"Yeah," you squeezed his hand, "freaks with freaks."

You didn't know how the air felt so light after what Eddie had dropped on you. Maybe it was the matching look in each of your gazes, or how normal this all felt. A pause lingered in the air. You could tell Eddie had processed this whole crazy situation he had been in. You thought it was a shame he'd probably have to redo a year because of that. But maybe it wouldn't be so bad if it meant you'd do your Senior year with him by your side.

This brought you back to your purpose of being here with Eddie.

"Maybe we should get to work," you patted his hand.

"Yeah,"

~

"I cannot do this," Eddie huffed, dropping his book on his lap. You watched as the book opened itself like an accordion and fell open on his bed. Eddie roughly leaned his head against his wall, groaning when his head collided against the hard material. 

"What's wrong?" you peaked from your history book.

"This is barely English," he lifted Romeo and Juliet up from his lap and held it by two fingers like it was a dead animal.

"You can read all of Tolkein's work but not Romeo and Juliet?"

"That's different. Tolkein's English is way smoother to read."

"Hm," you smiled, bringing your attention back to the paragraph on the Russian Revolution you were previously reading. Something about the murder of the Romanovs and the supposed victories that followed for the Bolsehviks. "You’ve already read it haven’t you?"

"Yes, but a long time ago. I’m taking my time rereading it," you flipped to the next page, hoping the chapter on the first world war would end there but your eyes fell upon yet another two page section about the consequences of the war on the world. Your eyes quickly danced across a paragraph detailing the problems soldiers faced. You sighed, lazily taping Eddie’s beige carpet with the pink eraser on the back of your pencil. 

"Ugh, I don’t know how you do it." Eddie spoke again after a long beat of silence, a new minute of him trying to focus as much of his strength as he could to make sense of the scrambled letters in his hands. He dropped the book again, and flopped to the side like a dead fish. Letting his head and one of his arms drop by the side of his bed. Staring at you now upside down.

"Dramatic much?"

He groaned in response.

You looked up to him from your place on the floor, giving him a silent laugh as you took in his state. His eyes were closed as another dramatic groan escaped his lips, hands flying on his face in desperation. You bit the eraser at the end of your pencil, contemplating your next move.

"Alright, I’ll help you," you closed your textbook and shuffled to stand up, shaking the soreness out of your legs. Eddie mumbled something barely audible when he heard you move.

You picked the book from the spot it had been thrown and flipped through the pages until ACT 2 was written in bold across the white paper.

"Move aside,” you nudged him, making him roll over so he was correctly placed against his pillow, leaving room for you. You climbed on the bed and moved until you were resting against his side, head cosied up on his shoulder.

"What are you doing?" Eddie mumbled as he wrapped his hand around your waist, mindlessly starting to draw circles on your exposed skin.

"Reading it to you,"

"You don't have to,"

"I know, but I want to. Like this, I'm rereading it and learning too," Eddie blinked as he stared at the top of your head, intently watching as you cleared your throat.

“Act 2, Scene 2. In Capulet's garden, Romeo enters.” 

“Romeo: But, soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, who is already sick and pale with grief,” Eddie felt his breath catch in his throat. When you spoke the words, Eddie could comprehend every meaning behind it, and his mind, against his own will, twisted the meanings to relate them to you. Was he doomed to feel like Romeo?

“Juliet appears at the window,” you continued, and Eddie felt himself squeeze the side of your arm in realization. “Romeo: It is my lady, O, it is my love! O, that she knew she was! She speaks, yet she says nothing. What of that?” You sighed, expecting any comments from your usually talkative boyfriend, but nothing. You looked up to be met with eyes full of thoughts. 

“All ok up there?”

“Y- yeah,” he breathed, “you make it easy to understand.”

“Hm,” you giggled, cheeks warming up at the feeling of Eddie’s hand on your arm and his lips close to your ear. “Really?” 

He kissed your temple as a reply.

He meant every word. 

Not only does hearing you reading make the words clear in his mind, organizing themselves like the perfect melody Shakespeare meant it to be. But the words resonated with something stronger in him. As if the feelings Romeo was crying out were ripped straight out of his chest and burned into the pages you were holding.

You were holding in your hands what his heart was yearning to scream.

~

“I hate this,” you looked at Tommy’s car from the windshield. You could hear the music playing from the garden and Tommy Hagan’s laughter and to top it off, Steve’s faint voice as he rambled on about whatever had annoyed him that day. 

“It will be alright, I promise,” Eddie offered, grazing your arm with his finger tips in an attempt to bring you some comfort, however, perhaps he was the one who needed it that evening.

He could hear the splash of your pool from the other side of the house, and it made him feel as though he was walking straight through a shark tank. Swimming straight for the enemy that could sense the smallest drop of blood; the smallest crack in his armor.

But you made that armor ten times stronger and there was no way Eddie Munson was going to let Steve Harrington and Tommy Hagan see him bleed. 

“Hm,” your grumble brought him back to the present, watching as you aggressively grabbed your bag and slipped out of your car, Eddie trailing not far behind.

You opened the door to your house, your R2D2 keychain making music as it clinked agains’t the rest of your keys. You grabbed the right key, the biggest silver one out of the 3 that hung around the ring. You reluctantly turned the silver object in the lock, ready to meet your doom.

From the look on your face he thought you were getting ready to fight the battle of Helm’s deep. Ready to fight an endless battle against the most vile creatures of Mordor, no hopes of winning and the odds far from being in your favor.

But the Fellowship did win the Battle of Helm’s deep. 

The door opened to reveal a big but homely house. A variety of shoes stood against the entry hall wall, from Steve’s basketball sneakers to the Reeboks Eddie had seen you wear multiple times. Hagan’s Nikes were next to Carol’s Vans; and you fought the urge to throw in the trash Tommy’s bright green hoodie that hung next to your blue and yellow windbreaker.

“You can take off your shoes and hang your jacket here if you want,” you smiled, pointing to the corner filled with all the clothes of the teenagers currently in the house. You slipped your own shoes off and dropped your bag on a yellow chair by the door to the kitchen. 

You sighed as you watched Eddie remove his own shoes and shrug off his jacket.

“Ready to infiltrate the enemy?” 

“As long as you’re by my side.”

It was everything you knew it would be. A soaked from head to toe Tommy chasing Carol across your parents garden in an attempt to throw her into the pool. On one of the old white sun chairs sat an uncomfortable Barb with a glass of water dancing between her fingers. Steve shared a sunchair with Nancy who was blushing at whatever stupid joke he had whispered in her ear, and in between all of that two packs of unopened beer sat piled on the small black and green garden table.

“This looks… fun?” Eddie raised an eyebrow, watching you roll your eyes and step forward. 

You huffed, barely muttering a hello to your brother and your friends as you ripped the cardboard of one of the six packs open and grabbed two beers. You threw one to Eddie and opened yours, taking a long well needed sip, bracing for their greetings.

“Munson!” Steve cheered, standing up from his spot next to Nancy.

“Harrington,” he nodded a bit stiff as Steve roughly patted his back. “Welcome to the crib!” He chuckled and you wondered how many beers he already had from how loud he was talking. 

Tommy stopped running after his girlfriend once he spotted Eddie, a large grin plastered on his punchable face and hovered towards you.

“Eddie, my man!” Tommy cheered as though he was his new best friend, giving him a handshake before taking a step back and asking, “you got the stuff?”

“Yeah,” Eddie fished for the packet of weed in the back pocket of his jeans before throwing it in Tommy’s hand.

“Thanks man,” he winked before waltzing over to the other corner of the pool where had already prepared some rolling paper and other random tools you couldn’t see from that far. All neatly laid out on a mossy wooden block that your parents had meant to throw away weeks ago.

You laid up on one of the empty sun chairs, eyeing Eddie. You watched him fumble with his hands, awkwardly playing with the can of beer in his hands and looking for something to fiddle with. You’d learn it was a habit of his when he felt nervous. He met your gaze and you silently nudged him to come over. You folded your legs together so he had room to sit in front of you.

You placed a reassuring hand on his thigh, and Eddie placed a ring cladded hand on top of yours. You blew him a kiss before looking to your left to where Barbara and Nancy were still sitting, he intently watched as you gave Barb a short smile and took a new sip of your beer.

“Hey! want some?” Tommy placed the freshly lit blunt in front of Nancy’s face, she politely declined and Tommy shrugged, not caring to make any comments before taking a new drag for himself. He silently asked Barbara but he got the same answer, an answer he expected anyways, and turned around towards you and Eddie.

“I know you won’t say no,” he joked and Eddie tried to hand him a smile as he took the joint out of his hand and took a drag for himself. “It’s good stuff by the way,” Tommy commented as Eddie blew smoke to the side, making sure it didn’t get in your face.

“I know,” he spoke, “but you’re half ruining it by rolling it like that,” he scanned the joint in his hand, inspecting it and indeed seeing the crooked way Tommy had folded it, he almost winced as if Tommy had made damage to something greater than him. “My grandmother rolls better than this, Hagan.”

You watched in amusement as Tommy’s eyes widened in an amused shock, not expecting that comment from the drug dealer in front of him. He was sure he knew how to roll well, he’d been doing it occasionally and most of his friends never complained. 

Tommy stayed dumbfounded and couldn’t answer until the words registered. He shrugged it off, pretending Eddie made false accusations before walking over to the other side of the pool to greedily make a new one to prove to Eddie that he wasn’t as bad as he was saying.

Once Hagan was out of the way and Eddie had already taken one to many drags, you moved your hand towards him, making grabby hands at the stress relieving gold between his fingers. 

He laughed at your eagerness, letting your fingers linger as they brushed against yours to grab your last hope to stay sane tonight.

Your eyes scanned the sky, trying to enjoy the beautiful sunset that tumbled upon the tall Hawkins tree. You wished you could have been elsewhere, maybe at lovers lake, playing truth or dare with Eddie as you sipped on homemade cocktails you threw into to-go cups. 

But as the weeds seeped in and you watched the sky turn from its pink and orange colors, you thought that maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad. Especially if the weed kept tumbling and Eddie stuck by your side.

Steve stole the blunt from you after your third drag, nagging something about how you should keep some for the others. He blew smoke to the side before looking at his watch, sighing before flicking his wrist, making his watch place itself better on his wrist and looked at you, “Y/n/n, do you have any cash on you?”

“No, why?” You threw your head back on the chair to catch his face.

“Because I ordered Pizza.”

“And? You expect me to pay?”

“No, no, totally not,” his lie made you groan in annoyance, wiggling your feet out of their criss-cross position to lay them out across Eddie’s lap. “I was just wondering,” he rolled his eyes, and as if on cue, the doorbell rang.

“I have some cash, if you want?” Eddie chimed in, rubbing circles on your ankles as he eyed your brother, and could see Tommy smirking like a madman from the corner of his eye. They all knew where the cash in question was coming from and Eddie felt even more guilty from the knowing looks they were giving him.

“Nah, S’okay, keep your well earned money Munson,” he waved his hand and smirked, Eddie’s chest stinging at the comment.

His gaze went back to you. You said something he didn’t catch to Nancy, happy you had stopped paying any attention to their conversation. 

He just experienced the first shark attack; subtle but all the same painful.

Eddie knew he was playing a dangerous game by being here tonight.

“Eddie, could you help me?” Steve took a last drag of the joint and handed it back to Tommy who was probably going to finish it and light up a new  one by the time they got back with the pizza’s.

“Yeah, sure,” Eddie grabbed your ankles, lifting them up from him and back down on the hard panels of the sun chair making you instantly divert your attention back to him.

“Hey, where are you going?” 

“Helping your brother with the pizza’s, baby,” he smiled, kissing your forehead before following your brother into the house. 

You watched attentively as Eddie disappeared behind the glass door, unapologetically checking him out.

“Y/n/n, can I talk to you for a minute,” Barbara broke you out of your staring, making you blink out of whatever trance Eddie had you in.

“Yeah of course, Barb,” 

“In private?” 

“Oh, sure,” you dropped your can of beer on the floor, sliding it under your chair to minimize the chances of it getting spilled by a clumsy Tommy Hagan or Steve.

You fixed your jeans as you stood up, following Barbara down the stone path that led further down towards the forest parts of your garden.

“What’s up?” You questioned, folding your arms together, as if to shield yourself from any of her comments, and maybe from the slight wind that started blowing.

“You’ve got to be careful with Eddie.”

“Why?” You frowned, biting at your nails. “You’ve seen how he is, Eddie’s a sweetheart, Barb.”

She frowned even more than you, “yeah, but don’t you think it’s weird he’s only shown interest in you right around the time your brother got this new rule from your parents? And not only that but Steve has been acting really weirdly these past few days–”

“Barb, it’s Steve,” you cut her off, “he’s always acting weird,” you rolled her eyes and chuckled. A sharp laugh that made Barb look down to her feet. “Eddie makes me happy, okay? That’s all you need to know and that’s all that matters right now, okay?”

“Right,” the white toe of her shoe collided with a small rock on the ground, she rolled it around for what felt like a second too long before speaking again, “just think about it, please?”

“Barb, let’s get back to the party, okay?”

~

“I can’t believe you got my mutant sister to date you, man. Good job, honestly,” Steve chuckled, shaking his head as he grabbed his wallet from a wooden console in the hallway and continued his way towards the door. 

Eddie frowned at Steve’s obliviousness. He seemed to be blind to the fact that you were truly infatuated with Eddie, forgetting the part where this was all a twisted deal. This made a new kind of ache rise inside his stomach.

Did your brother really care so little about you?

Eddie’s eyes trailed from the bowl that previously sheltered Steve’s wallet, not half full with keys and other trinkets Eddie didn’t know the use of. He looked up from it and noticed the frames hanging above the furniture. A green wooden frame caught his eye, a picture of you and Steve hugging. You must have been about five and six and Eddie wondered when it all started going down between the two of you. At which point did a flip switch in Steve to become the coldhearted douchebag he was today.

“Parallel universe where we got along,” Steve joked before nudging Eddie to join him by the door. Eddie expected for Steve to open the front door but instead he opened his wallet in half and slipped out two green bills. 

“Here, as promised. That’s for tonight,” he handed Eddie a fifty, the brightest smirk plastered on his traits. He was happy, his investment was paying off. Eddie noticed the other bill was also a fifty, and he hoped he had ordered fifty dollars worth of pizza, because he thought he was going to throw up if it was another payment for another ‘task’ he’d have him do, another place he needed to take you.

“And that’s to take her to the Spring Fling,” Eddie didn’t make a move to grab the money, Steve didn’t seem to care and almost stuffed it into his hand. As if he was a vampire touching silver, Eddie felt the money burn his fingers, “and please, please convince her to go, my parents would never let me if she doesn’t.”

“Yeah, yeah I know the drill, Harrington,” the words felt bitter in his mouth. He stumbled a bit on his words, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to prepare his next words, he was ready to cut the deal off, give him the money back and pretend this deal never happened. 

But Steve opened the door before he could get a word out, and Eddie instantly recognised the delivery boy as a client of his.

A young redhead who had graduated Hawkins High a year ago, he remembered learning that he was saving for college with his job at the one Surfer Boy Pizza location Hawkins had, but Eddie also knew that he was using a crazy amount of his savings on weed, and other shit, because half of the profit he’d made in the last few months came from him alone.

“Oh! Hey, Munson!” The boy’s face lit up when he recognised his dealer, “didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Makes two of us,” Eddie offered a smile, grabbing half of the pizza boxes while Steve handed him the money and grabbed the rest of the boxes himself, “I’ll see you later.”

“Yep,” the redhead grinned and Steve bidded him goodbye before closing the door with his foot.

“Thanks for the help,” he muttered, trotting to the back of the house. Eddie watched as Steve skillfully opened the door with his elbow, and the cool spring air hit his face again.

“Pizza's here!” Everyone cheered, and the two boys dropped the boxes on the now empty sunchair that used to host you and Eddie minutes prior.

You walked up to Eddie, melting at his side as he draped an arm around your waist. 

“Did my brother annoy you?”

“No,” Eddie chuckled, a little awkwardly, his eyes darting to Steve who was circling the garden to turn on the lights.

The sky was darker now, night starting to shine in all its glory, taking it the reassurance of sunlight with it. Everyone seemed to be in a good mood though, weed had started to take over and the first beer pack had already disappeared into a pile of empty cans. 

This was going to be a long night.

~

“So, you and Eddie hmm?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“Oh, but it so is my business.” Steve had the biggest smile on, the smile only faltering as he took another sip of his beer, chugging the end in one go.

"Oh, but it so isn't,” you caught Eddie’s eye from the other side of the pool, he was teaching Tommy how to roll a proper joint.

You watched as Eddie smiled, a freshly rolled joint in between his fingers while Tommy was grumbling something you couldn’t understand. Eddie, shrugging before standing up, tucking the cigarette on his ear as he made his way to you. 

Tommy’s ego seemed to have calmed down and his thoughts soon caught the attention of something else. A devilish glint in his eyes as he ran across the pool and grabbed Carol by the waist, threatening to throw her in the pool. 

She screamed, a piercing scream that made almost everyone giggle–even you. 

“Stop it Tommy! Don’t!” She screamed until she was back on her two feet and you kind of wished he had thrown her in.

Steve left your side to grab a beer, piercing a hole through the bottom before opening the can and chugging it in one go. He made eye contact with you, throwing you one and you grabbed the knife closest to you to do the same. You watched as Steve slung himself across one of the lounge chairs by Nancy, trying to be as cool as possible but his poor attempts weren’t invisible. 

“Is that supposed to impress me?” Nancy raised an eyebrow and you rolled your eyes at your brother’s nonchalance.

Eddie grabbed a beer, not paying any mind to Nancy and your brother as he made his way to you. You stood up from your sunchair and Eddie almost told you to stay put. That he’d just sit on the floor next to you but your actions were faster.

You made him sit down and you didn’t hesitate one second to sit on his lap, making yourself comfortable against him, legs tangling with each other on the extension of the chair. 

“This is way more comfortable than the floor,” he whispered in your ear as his arm found its way across your waist. 

“I know right?” You brought him into the most tender kiss, the way he made you feel all soft and mushy on the inside seeping through. 

He smiled once you leaded away, smiling as you grabbed the swiss knife back from the garden table next to you and imitated your brother’s earlier actions–piercing a hole at the bottom of your can, and opening it, chugging the whole thing in one go.

“Oh, is this some kind of Harrington super power?” Eddie raised an eyebrow, making you laugh. 

“Maybe, maybe,” you laughed and Eddie did too. The sounds of laughter are contagious to each other. You bumped your forehead into the side of his head lovingly and Eddie could feel your smile against his cheek.

“Thanks for coming tonight,” you whispered. “Without you, I don’t know what I’d be doing right now. Probably planning my next murder attempt on Steve,”

“Oh, because there’s been a first one?”

“A few.” 

“Very metal of you, baby.”

“Hey, Barb, are you ok?” Nancy’s voice caught your attention, snapping you out of your bubble. 

You watched as Barb clutched her hand, blood dripping out of it.

“I’m fine,”

“Barb, you’re bleeding.”

“I said I’m fine,” she shrugged Nancy’s help off and turned to Steve. “I’ll just go, clean up,” she nodded and you stood up from your spot in Eddie’s arms, grabbing her shoulder before she could take a step further. 

“Hey Barb, I’ll go help you wrap that up. It doesn’t look good.”

“I’ll be fine Y/n/n, I don’t need your help,” she muttered, almost bumping into your shoulder before disappearing behind your back door.

“Awkward,” Tommy snicked, trying to relieve the tension. It made Carol and Steve laugh while you and Nancy shared a worried glance. This wasn’t like Barb at all. 

But the tension quickly dissipated. Tommy knew very well what to do to save the night and pushed Carol into the pool only to  jump after her. Steve did the same with Nancy and you took it as your cue to grab Eddie’s hand, making him leave his spot on your uncomfortable chair and jump with you in the pool. 

The water felt colder than you expected. You hadn’t been in the pool since September, even if you had reopened and cleaned the pool only about a week ago, and the air still held on to the bits of winter, persuading you to stay in the comfort of your bedroom instead of taking a swim.

Barb seeped out of everyone’s minds as water splashed across the space. Steve splashing Nancy but the hit also falling onto you and Eddie who tread behind her. 

The six of you fell into a loud water fight, making the concrete slabs beside of your pool sopping wet and the water even reaching the empty pizza boxes that were all cramped up in a corner by your small garden table. 

You were so enthralled in watching Nancy trying to swim away from the menace that your brother could be, that you didn’t realize Eddie was behind you, making an easy strike as he grabbed you, enveloping you in his arms and pulling you closer by the waist. You squealed before you realized it was him, your back hitting his chest. You quickly melted in his embrace as his lips hovered the shell of your ear.

He whispered something you unfortunately didn’t catch over everyone's screaming, so you turned around in his arms to ask him what it was but by the time you were face to face with him, he pulled you into a kiss and dragged you down under the water with him, taking you by surprise. You pulled away, letting out a surprised breath under water, bubbles seeping out to climb the surface, but you quickly registered the gesture, and pulled him back into the kiss. 

You were both laughing messes once you reached the surface, panting from being deprived of oxygen. Eddie pushed some wet locks out of your face, staring at you with star filled eyes. 

A certain melancholy seeped through him as he watched you in awe–mesmerized by you. Your eyelashes filled with droplets of water, and your hair going crazy. He got closer, whispering something you this time heard loud and clear.

“Where were you all my life?”

You felt yourself grabbing his shoulder; a way to anchor yourself because if you didn't, you didn’t know how you could keep your knees from buckling and keep yourself from drowning. The water might have been freezing cold, but your entire body felt like fire under his touch.

“Right here,” you whispered back, pressing a kiss to his cheek before resting your forehead against his.

“Why so far?” Butterflies rose to your stomach and even though the others were screeching and screaming behind you, you felt like it was only you and Eddie, holding each other in the corner of your pool.

“Hey lovebirds!” Of course, Tommy had to break the moment, sending a giant wave of water towards the two of you, making you snap out of your love spell and back to harsh reality.

~

“Here,” you grabbed one of your blue striped towels from the pool shed and handed it to Eddie.

“Thank you,” he placed it around his shoulders. He watched intently as you grabbed your own towel and started wrapping yourself around it, closing the pool shed right after. 

You gazed up, watching as Steve and Nancy went inside the house, towels of their own wrapped around their shoulders, Carol and Tommy quickly following. 

You shivered. The briskness of night setting in, reminding you this was only a random Wednesday night of April. It wasn’t a time to swim or take a dip in the pool just for kicks–It was spring as it barely emerged from a winter that you wished had morphed into the endless summer nights where the sun stayed high longer and you wouldn’t freeze the second you exited the pool.

“C’mon, let’s get you some dry clothes.”

Eddie nodded, and followed you in, noticing the way your damp hair swooshed with the wind as you walked, and the way you smiled as the warmth of the house engulfed you whole the second you stepped inside.

Eddie walked in after you, and you made sure the door was closed before wrapping your hand around his and walked further into the dim lighted room, right until you reached the brightly lit corridor.

“Hey Barb,” you frowned as you saw her, standing by your front door. “Everything ok?” 

She watched with big eyes as your hand wrapped around the white railing of the staircase, other hand wrapped around Eddie’s as he trailed behind you. 

“Yeah, yeah,” she dismissed it, watching as Eddie pressed the towel he held in his free hand against his wet curls, frowning at the redhead before him. 

Even he knew she was lying. 

“Where’s Nance?” You asked, perched up on the third step while Eddie played with the wet belt loops of your jeans, intently watching as you tried to know more of the reason behind your friend’s frown.

“Upstairs with your brother.”

“Ah,” you nodded, biting the inside of your cheek in thought. 

“I’m going to go home,” she looked down at her shoes averting yours and Eddie’s gaze as best she could.

“You sure?” You frowned again, and Eddie squeezed the side of your waist in an attempt to sooth your thoughts. “Eds and I are just going to get dry clothes and then we’ll come back downstairs. We could play Uno?” You offered, remembering when you’d pull out your Uno deck at any given chance during boring school field trips, Nancy always complaining because she was so bad at it while Barb often took the win.

You could see the hesitancy in her eyes, memories flashing before her. “Thanks, but it’s late,” she cleared her throat and fixed her glasses. 

You knew there was something else behind her voice, a sort of strain that told you ‘I don’t want to be more of a bother than I already am’. 

“Alright, well, be careful ok?” You smiled and started making your way back up the stairs, Eddie nodding to Barb before following you up. 

“Oh, and Y/n/n,” she caught your attention before you could reach the last step, waiting until you met her eyes before continuing; “please think on what I’ve told you,” your gaze softened and you had to prevent yourself from looking at Eddie, not to raise any suspicion that he was the lead subject of her words.

You had no intent on doing so, but just to give her a piece of mind you spoke, like a dance in the wind, “I will Barb, promise. Get home safely.” 

You saw her shoulders slump from the corner of your eye as you climbed the last step, before taking a left towards your room.

“Well, since Steve is occupied, I can’t ask him for anything,” you looked behind you as you opened the door to your bedroom, Eddie’s big eyes intently staring back, “but I do own oversized band tees and stole a pair of sweats from Steve two weeks ago so you could use that?” You offered and Eddie couldn’t help the laughter that tumbled out of him at the proposition.

“That would be more than perfect.”

The door of your bedroom closed behind you with a soft thud, and Eddie found himself mesmerized by how similar your bedrooms were. Posters against posters, and a huge shelf with more fantasy books than Eddie could count. His mind went back to the first time Steve sat at the Hellfire table, while Eddie read through the list of books he’d found in your room. Indeed Steve hadn’t been lying, and the list he’d read on the crumpled white paper with Harrington’s sloppy handwriting found itself manifesting on your wooden shelves. 

His eyes scanned every shelf and he found himself ogling at your Tolkein collection–all hardbacks with different colors and the recurring T symbol. Eddie had never seen such a beautiful collection of Tolkein’s work. 

“My uncle gave them to me before he died, they’re pretty cool, don’t you think?” 

“I think I’m falling in love with them,” you chuckled at his antics.

“Some of them are signed.”

“No way, can I?” He pointed towards the collections.

“Of course, Eddie. The Hobbit is signed if you want to see.”

Eddie pulled out the blue book in awe, fingers delicately dancing across the pages.  

“You should see mine,” he smirked, “ripped out front covers and dead spines. I accidently burnt the first page of the two towers because I was smoking while reading, and Oliver, so not accidentally dropped his chewed gum in the middle of my Hobbit book.”

“Why?” You raised an eyebrow at the absurdity.

“He was mad because I accidentally scratched his guitar.”

“Well, wouldn’t you be mad if he stretched your Warlock?”

“Yeah, but that’s different. His was an old guitar that didn’t ring well, he was about to get a new one, anyways,” Eddie rolled his eyes before he continued to scan your shelves. “Oh my god, is that a mini replica of the millennium falcon?” He placed the copy of your hobbit back on the shelf, and grabbed the Star Wars miniature, eyes wide like a child who discovered his new favorite toy.

“Yeah,” you smiled as you opened your cupboard, scanning the shelves for the sweat pants and shirt you had promised Eddie. You threw two oversized Metallica shirts on your bed, and found sweatpants for you before finally getting your hands on Steve’s gray sweatpants. “I got it last summer when we went to California,” you spoke, grabbing the biggest shirt out of the two and the gray pants, handing them to Eddie as he placed the small figurine back on your shelf. 

“I love it,” he kissed your cheek, thanking you for the clothes.

“Bathroom is in the corridor, first door on your left,” you pecked his lips, watching him as he scurried out of your room.

You sighed, a giddy smile on your lips as you changed into dry clothes of your own. When Eddie came back, he couldn’t keep his eyes from roaming the room. There was so much stuff he wasn’t sure where to look first. 

He saw a stuffed Chewbacca on your bed, right by where your head laid, and snatched it from the spot. He sat at the edge of your mattress, turning it to you and making Chewbacca noises.

“You know what, Chewie? I agree,” you played along and Eddie continued his Chewie noises as if the doll was speaking.

You giggled, grabbing the plushie from Eddie and scooting yourself closer, kissing him silly. 

Eddie’s hand found its place on your waist, pulling you closer but the kiss was broken by your ever growing smiles.

“You’re so silly, you know that?” You muttered, smiling like an idiot.

“And that’s why you like me so much.” 

“You’re right,” you kissed him again, lips melting with him and moving in perfect sync. It was everything your previous kisses weren’t. Passionate and burning with envy as your hand found its place in his hair, gently tugging on his curls. Eddie groaned in your mouth as you continued gently pulling onto his locks, making a moan leave your own lips.

Eddie thought he was going to go crazy. His hand traveled up your thigh, pushing you up so you sat on his lap, hungrily kissing the corner of your lips before continuing his way down your jaw.

"Come to the dance with me," Eddie mumbled against your skin, kisses trailing lower until he found the spot that made you shiver.

"What?" You half moaned from the attention he was giving you and half chuckled at the absurdity of the question.

"Come to the dance with me," his voice was more serious now, a slight pant in his breath. He stopped what he was doing and straightened up, eyes leveling with yours.

"No, no, I heard you. Why?" You pushed a strand of hair away from his eyes. “I thought you hated that kind of stuff, because I definitely do.”

"Gareth is going with a girl he really likes and he doesn't want to be the only Hellfire guy there," he half lied. Oliver was going too but you didn't need to know that, yet.

You sighed, fingers dancing across the Metallica writing on the chest of his shirt.

“Eds-”

“Think about it, please?” 

You bit your lip, looking up to meet his big chocolate eyes, peering at you almost like a lost puppy; how could you refuse him anything when he looked like that. “I’ll let you know, Eds,” you bit your lip. “No promises.”

“Alright,” he breathed out, one ringed hand reaching up to cup your face. His thumb brushed over your cheek and you felt yourself melt into his touch again. 

You leaned in, breaths mixing together until your lips brushed each others, melting back into a kiss–this time it was more desperate, he kissed you with a gentle urgency and you were already breathless in his mouth as you felt his fingers brush your bare skin under the soft material of your shirt. His hand itched to travel upwards, but the deal was still tugging at the back of his mind, like a faint melody, haunting him. 

But that melody was just a faint whisper as you repositioned yourself on his lap, now straddling him as the kisses only grew hungrier, more desperate. Desperate to get closer, to feel him against you as much as you could.

Your mind was all Eddie, and you didn’t mind one bit. 

In fact you were welcoming his ever hypnotising presence, letting you melt and engulf in everything that he was–you fitted together like pieces of a puzzle, and the words he’d spoken to you while you were enveloped in the cold water of your swimming pool resonated again through you; ‘where were you all my life?’

Where had he been all this time? Your knight in shinning black armor. You wondered if life would have been easier if he had been by your side earlier. If the nagging from Steve and the bullying from his friends would have effected you less if you had each other–if you had been there to protect one another from the jungle that was Hawkins High. 

The cold metal of his rings agains’t your waist brought you back to the present–and suddenly you knew you weren’t going to be alone in the treacherous sea of Hawkins, that you didn’t need to be scared of the sharks anymore. That you would have no more use for the walls you had spend all these years building. That you could take a break from your Heinous Bitch alter ego.

But as the moment went on, Eddie already knew where this had taken a turn–the nagging melody only grew louder, and he felt himself come back to his sense–as if waking up from the intoxicating hold you had on him. 

Suddenly, he felt guilty for the way he was touching you and pulled his hand from the soft skin of your waist as though it was burning him. His heart knew this was right, but his mind knew it was wrong–and Eddie felt himself get torn apart the more your lips danced together in perfect rhythm.

He hummed against your lips, in an attempt to wake you from the same daze that he had abruptly been ripped away from.

"We- we should stop,” the words left his lips before he could over think more than he was already constrained too. “I- I should go." He looked at your face, his own fake smile flailing at the hurt your eyes held. 

“What?” You panted, pushing yourself back so you could take a better look at him, trying to understand what made him stop his actions “Eddie-” you grabbed his shoulder, hoping it would keep him here, anchor him back to you.

But instead he offered you the poorest of excuses; “It’s getting late,” you only registered that he had moved you away from his lap and back onto the bed when you watched him stand up, and pace around to gather his things, “we have school tomorrow, remember?” 

“Since when do you care about school?” You half joked, hoping this would help Eddie give a clearer explanation to his sudden need for his departure. You watched as Eddie snorted from your truthful comment, but patiently waited for more words to fall out his mouth.

“Since I’ve got a pretty girl helping me with my homework,” he approached, hoping to ease the tension. He came over to you with a genuine smile and bopped your nose, fingers lingering on the soft skin of your cheek.

"Eddie,” you muttered, barely audible, and Eddie felt a new pang of guilt eat him up as he watched you–head falling down as you grabbed his other hand and played with his rings. “Why do every time I take a step forward you take two steps back?" 

He froze–all thoughts fleeting out of his brain, threatening to shut his system down. He knew why, but he could never tell you, he didn’t know what he should even tell you. What words he could use to not dig himself a bigger hole and discern the trust it took so long gaining.

 "You chase me around and when I finally cave in, you push me away?" Your mind flashed back to the first time you had tried to kiss him–when he had dropped you off after that damned party.

"I just-" He whispered, hoping he would find a quick way to defrost from the prison of his thought, trying to scrape at the sanity he was holding on to, trying the situation. "I want to take things slow with you," your frown only deepened. 

"Sweetheart, I really really like you, and everything is happening so fast," the second part of this sentence couldn’t be so far from the truth; hell he could marry you tomorrow and he’d be the happiest man on earth. 

He heard your sigh and was too cowardly to look at you. Fear lay heavy on his stomach the more this went on; traveling to his heart and seeping into his chest to spread all over him. Killing him softly with every passing minute. 

He wished he had called the deal off hours ago when he had the chance. Give Steve his money back before he even opened the door for the delivery man; and maybe, just maybe tonight would have been different and guilt wouldn’t be eating him up like it was now.

“Ok,” you nodded, trying to hide the small ache that had started in your own chest.

You were going to try and say something else; bid him good night and tell him you’d see him tomorrow, hoping that sleeping on this whole situation would make it better for the both of you, give you answers to his behaviorvbut a loud, unrecognizable noise screeched from the garden. 

"Did you hear that?" Eddie’s head snapped towards your window.

"Yeah,” you stood up, pushing the curtains open without a second thought. You both peered down, but saw nothing. The water of the pool was still, the lights creating shadows at the bottom and stray leaves dancing ontop the water. 

Eddie turned his head towards you, “what do you think it was?” 

“I don’t know,” you frowned, fingers dropping their grip on the soft material of your curtains once you had finished scanning the whole area visible from your small window.

You looked up to meet Eddie; not really knowing what to do with the silence dancing across the two of you. 

“You should go,” you offered a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Eds.”

“Y/n,” Eddie grabbed your wrist before you could move. “I really, really, like you, you know?” He breathed out, a hint of desperation in his voice that made you smile. 

You leaned into his touch, taking a step forward, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips.

“I really like you too, Eddie.”

“Good.”

“Good,” you repeated. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

[bubuslutty]

Day 7: pretty in a skirt

pairing: demon/angel!fem reader x soap + soap x ghost

word count: 3.4k

tags: making out, blowjobs, dry humping, cross dressing, proof read by me so sorry for any mistakes

warnings: none

summary: Angel finally gets her hands on soap, literally.

a/n: enjoy and don't forget to share your thoughts if you've enjoyed a particular part 💙

It was Wednesday, 14:45 to be exact, and Johnny was nervous.

It has been a while since he hung out with a girl, or a boy alone (that isn't Simon or his other guys) for that matter. What would they even do? Chat and drink? She did say she was not planning to get drunk over text a couple of days earlier. And would they fuck? Does she even want to fuck him?

“Johnny,” A deep voice snapped Johnny out of his trance, his hands clutching a pack of Oreos while a bag of snacks was sitting in front of him on the counter.

“Hm?” He blinked and looked at Ghost who was leaning against the fridge, arms crossed and mask scrunched up on his nose bridge, a cigarette held between two pink lips.

“You’re nervous.” Ghost stated, staring at the man without blinking with those pale blue eyes of his.

“And why are you smoking inside the house?” Soap sighed, shoving the Oreos pack in the plastic bag and taking two big steps towards his Lieutenant, removing the cigarette from his lips and placing a kiss on them instead.

 “You only smoke when you’re anxious or really annoyed.” Soap raised a brow after taking a puff, and blowing the smoke to the side, staring at Ghost straight in the eyes.

“I’m not.” Ghost shrugged, staring at Soap’s lips without blinking.

“Shitty liar, Lt. Shitty liar you are.” Soap sighed and handed the man back his cigarette.

“I don’t know, maybe I’m just a bit nervous because what if she’s a better fuck than I am?” Ghost slowly said, getting off the fridge to stand closer to Soap, breathing in his cologne.

Soap snorted, feeling a twinge of arousal deep in his guts, “Seriously, Simon? I dinnae even know if that’s what’s going to happen in the first place. And I doubt she has a bigger dick than you, so yeah, probably not.”

Ghost raised a brow, “Is that right? You can go around and shag anyone you want, Johnny, but at the end of the day, you come right back to me, yeah?"

“Always, Lt.” Soap breathed out, feeling his throat dry out and his dick harden in his trousers.

“Open your mouth then.” Ghost ordered and Soap let his mouth fall open, sticking out his tongue. Ghost brought the cigarette to his lips and took a puff, then grabbed Soap’s neck with his other hand, then leaned down and blew the smoke straight in Soap’s mouth and before Soap could make any sound (like moan like a total whore, but honestly same.), he smashed their lips together and kissed Soap like he was trying to suck his soul out through mouth.

.

.

.

Ghost is such a fucking dickhead, like, major dickhead.

You may be wondering, why is Ghost a dickhead?

Because Soap was stuck to will the boner away HE caused when he tried to tongue fuck his mouth in the middle of their kitchen!

That fucker knew what he was doing, he knew and still did it! Soap just hoped it’s not that noticeable because he doesn’t want to look like a huge creep to Angel when she kindly invited him over for a hang out.

Angel opened the door of her house, grinning as soon as she saw Soap, “You’re literally right on time! Please, come in!” She leaned in and gave him a kiss on the cheek as greeting.

“I’m a punctual man.” Soap laughed, trying to relax so he stops thinking about his dying boner. “Should I take my shoes off?” He asked when he noticed her wearing nothing but socks on her feet.

“Yes, please. And let me get that for you.” She said, taking the plastic bag Soap was holding and making her way to the kitchen, “Oh, you got the pink Oreos?” She laughed while looking inside the bag.

Soap slipped off his shoes and placed them neatly to the side, looking around the place. He does know what her kitchen looks like, but he never stepped a foot inside the rest of her home, but now that he does, he was taking everything in.

Angel’s home was simple, yet homey. She had a lot of mirrors hung around, Johnny noticed, and quite a lot of plants, and paintings on her walls. Her living room was nicely decorated as well, with quite a lot of books, some figurines, posters of singers, music albums and random knick knacks, who were interestingly enough, from different time periods, Johnny noticed.

On the coffee table, there was quite a hefty amount of fashion magazines and an empty glass of water.

“So, how’re you, Soap?” Angel asked, glancing up at him as he made her way to the kitchen.

“Good, you?” Soap said with a nod.

“I’m alright, how’s work?” Angel asked as she neatly placed the snacks on individual bowls and then on a tray.

“It’s alright, nothing exciting.” Soap shrugged and Angel hummed, “That’s good. Can you get cups from the cupboard?” Soap turned around and placed his hand on a random handle, “Not that one, the one on the left- Yep, that one.” 

Soap took out two glasses and carried the beers and the Coke bottle in his arms while Angel led the way to her room with the tray of snacks. “Where’s your cat, by the way?” Soap asked, remembering she had a cat and hadn't seen the animal anywhere.

“Upstairs in my room,” Angel said and gasped, “I just realised that you’re the first man to enter my bedroom since I’ve moved in.” 

“I am?” Soap said, surprised.

“Well, if you don't count the guys that moved my furniture in."

When Soap stepped inside her bedroom, he didn’t know what to expect, really, but he was intrigued either way. Her bedroom looks extremely comfortable, with fluffy pillows and sheets and blankets on her bed. Her bedroom was also quite big, with fluffy carpets on the floor and a huge mirror leaning against the wall, taller and wider than Soap.

“Why the hell do you have this monstrosity of mirror? What if it falls on you one day?” Soap laughed, checking his hair and face in the mirror.

Angel giggled and placed the tray on her desk, “I use it to travel through worlds and dreams.” 

Soap chuckled, “I mean, it’s as big as a door.” 

“Kuromi, say hello to Soap.” Angel said and Soap placed the glasses and drinks on her desk, suddenly feeling a press against his leg and when he looked down he cooed, “Hey, pretty girl.” 

He leaned down and picked up the cat, scratching her under the chin while she happily let him and even purred in his arms. Then Kuromi let out a cute yawn and Soap grinned, “Yeah? You like that? Of course, you do.” 

Angel smiled at the sight, “You’re Kuromi Approved, now.” 

Soap looked up, “Kuromi Approved?”

“Yeah, she has the ability to smell bullshit and shitty personalities on people, and it seems like she deems you safe to be in here.” Angel said making Soap chuckle and gently lower Kuromi on the bed.

“Well, I’m glad I passed her test.” Soap laughed.

“Okay, let’s get to the part where we get to the real reason why you’re here,” Angel smirked and placed her hands on his shoulders, “Sit and close your eyes.” 

Soap let himself be pushed down and sat on the edge of her bed, “Close my eyes?”

“Yeah, it’s just for a second.” Angel smiled.

Soap nodded and closed his eyes, feeling a bit nervous but he played it cool by leaning a bit back, supporting his weight with his hands on the mattress behind him. 

"You can open them now." She said and Johnny opened them slowly, and he didn't know what to expect, really. 

Angel was holding the same brown skirt from before, but this time it looked a little different, a bit bigger, well, definitely bigger compared to her waist size. 

"That's-" Johnny pointed at the skirt and looked up at Angel. 

"The same skirt I have, only in your size, well, I hope it's in your size." Angel said, practically vibrating with excitement while grinning. 

"And what am I supposed to do with it?-" 

Angel smirked and placed one of her hands on her hip, "What do you think? Try it on and let's get this party started." 

. 

. 

. 

"I wonder what they're doing right now." Gaz wondered while laying on his back on his bed, throwing a tennis ball in the air and catching it with one hand. 

When Gaz didn't get an answer from Ghost sitting next to him, he nudged him with his foot, "Hey, I'm talking to you."

"How the fuck am I supposed to know, Garrick?" Ghost mumbled while folding and refolding their clean laundry.

"Hm, I'm smelling…Jealously! Are you jealous, lieutenant?" Gaz mused with a small smirk and innocently batted his eyelashes when Ghost glared at him. 

Ghost was most definitely about to say something smart when both of their phones pinged with a notification. 

Both Gaz and Ghost looked at each other then reached for their phones at the same time. 

"What's this?" Ghost frowned at his screen when he saw that a picture was shared in their group chat. And did a double take when he realised it was from their neighbour. 

When the picture downloaded, he didn't know what to say or do but stare. And it seemed like Gaz had the same reaction until another picture was shared and Gaz cursed, then dropped his phone on his face, cursing for an entirely different reason.

The pictures were a mirror selfie of Johnny and Angel wearing matching brown pleated skirts, so short you could see the bottom of Johnny's black boxers. Angel was grinning while linking her other arm with Johnny as he flexed his other arm, his white tank top riding up and revealing a happy trail and tanned abs. 

They simply looked absolutely delicious together that Simon struggled to breathe and had to lock his phone for a breather. 

The other picture was of them looking over their shoulders, popping their butt at the camera as Angel snapped a mirror pic. They looked like they were having so much fun but none of the boys knew that it took a bit of convincing to get Johnny to wear it and take a mirror picture. 

"How do you feel?" Angel asked, holding one of Johnny's hands in front of the mirror as he looked at their reflections. Him in his tank top, skirt, socks and her in her bra, skirt and socks. 

Johnny looked at his tan skin, at the dark hairs on his arms, legs and chest, the scars and at his messy mohawk, at his massive shoulders, at his muscular thighs and sharp jawline. 

"I'm not sure this fits me." He said, digging his heels in Angel's carpet. 

"What do you mean? Is it the colour?" Angel asked. 

"I don't know, this looks like it'd fit someone, cuter. I think maybe black would fit me, leather, studs and all." He mumbled and Angel sighed, "Johnny, I know you're literally in the army, but please, for the love of everything Holy and Dear, don't put yourself in a box." 

"I'm not, lass." 

"You are, Soap. I know you don't look like the image of innocence to wear pleated skirts but that doesn't mean they won't suit you. I, for one, think you look absolutely great in them!" Angel said, placing both of her hands on his shoulders and squeezing once. 

Soap didn't know what to say and instead stared down at her, then eventually at her glossy plump lips.

"Soap," He watched her lips move and breathe out his name. 

"Hm?" Johnny hummed, unable to look away from her lips. 

"Have you ever worn a bikini top?" 

"What?"

Back at home, Gaz and Ghost, including Price were lowkey losing their minds over the flood of pictures shared with them in the groupchat.

There was pictures were both Johnny and Angel wore the same bikini top and posed in cute and sexy poses. And because Angel had a gigantic mirror in her room, they could see everything, every detail of their outfits and the mess of clothes and shoes strewn out across her bedroom. 

Some pictures were shared in the groupchat, and some were not, specially kept private so Soap can use them to torture his favourite lieutenant.

Angel and Johnny took turns snapping pictures of each other while Angel's playlist played in the playground, girly, fun, glittery and slutty, Angel's favourite type of music to dance to in the club. 

One of the pictures Angel took of Johnny were of him laying on her fluffy bed, back against the headboard, with nothing on except a small pale pink skirt. They drank beer and coke, fed each other snacks and giggled over random stories until they tired themselves out, laying on Angel's bed. 

At that rate, Angel was wearing a tiny, poor excuse of a bikini top with a tiny jean skirt while Johnny was still wearing just that damn pale pink skirt. He laid on his back on her bed, staring at the ceiling with Angel laid next to him, her head on his chest with one of her legs thrown across one of his massive thighs.

Soap had one of his arms wrapped around her waist, caressing the naked skin of her back while she hummed along to the music and he reflected on how she managed to unleash a version of himself he hadn't the courage or the time to let out.

He felt so many things. 

But he knew in that moment, he felt sexy, he felt beautiful and handsome. He felt good and he felt hot. And most importantly, he's had fun, like a lot of fun, trying accessories of all shapes and colours with Angel, the woman was like Barbie to him, or a Bratz doll, with a closet full of magic and wonders.

"Have you ever worn a skirt before?" Angel asked, voice low and he closed his eyes. 

"Aye."

"A skirt, not a kilt. You know, for fun." Angel corrected and Soap opened his eyes, "No." 

Angel hummed and drew random shapes on his warm skin, "Did you have fun?" 

"'Course, I did." He smiled while Britney Spears played in the playground. 

"I'm glad." Angel smiled, running a finger over one of his many scar.

"Thank you." Soap said sincerely.

Angel lifted her head and pushed herself forward, placing a kiss to Soap's cheek, "You're welcome, pretty." 

Soap grabbed her by the waist and easily flipped them around so she was now laying on her back with him hovering above her, "Me? Pretty? Have ya seen yourself, Angel?" 

Angel giggled at how she was easily manhandled and at the kiss that Soap loudly placed on one of her warm cheeks. 

"Prettiest fucking lass I've laid my eyes on." He said while tickling her sides as she laughed and tried to push him away. 

In truth, she could easily free herself from his hold, could empower his strength and get away, she was a supernatural creature after all. She could change the rhythm of his heartbeat with a blink, she could stop his heart from beating all together, she could slither herself in his mind and make him forget anything and remember a reality that has never existed. 

Simply put, she was fucking powerful to a terrifying level. 

But luckily for Johnny, she was a Wish Angel on a mission and won't do anything that could prevent her from completing her Assignment. That's what everyone at the Wish Office in the other realm knows at least.

Angel's legs somehow ended up wrapped around Johnny's waist, and because he was just human, just desire wrapped in flesh, her heat, the skin to skin contact, the scent of her sweet shampoo, her sparkling eyes and inviting lips were irresistible. So he leaned in and got a taste of sweetness and sin.

So when he ran his big calloused hands all over her supple and soft skin and shuddered when she ran her hands up his arms to grab onto his biceps and his shoulders slumped when she giggled in his mouth and gave his lower lip a kitten lick. 

And so Johnny kissed her slow and steady, wanting to savour everything she was willing to give him. And he was so distracted by her warm lips and her hands on his skin, he didn't realise he was rolling his hips against her until she bit her lower lip and threw her head back.

It happened all too quickly and too slow at the same time, Johnny was unable to stop the rutting of his hips or the little gasps that left his lips. That is until Angel grabbed his shoulders and pushed him away. 

Johnny was confused but he let her push him away and blushed when she then proceeded to sit on his lap and cup the bulge between his legs over the skirt. 

He gasped and moaned when she pressed the heel of her hand on his swollen cock and couldn't stop himself from panting when she was looking at him straight in the eyes with a hungry smile. Her eyes were wide in lust and wonder, they practically sparkled under the light of the lamplight and the LED lights on her vanity. 

Johnny's face was pink when she reached inside his boxers and started palming him and massaging his wet tip with the palm of her hand. His lips were shiny with spit and swollen, and his eyelids were heavy and Angel wanted to fucking eat him right then and there. 

When she fully took him out of his boxers, she told him to hold his skirt so she can get a look at his cock, and when she did she looked at him and said, "Johnny, you have such a pretty cock."

He trembled then, and moaned when she spat on her palm and started stroking him properly, his tip constantly leaking and making the slide that much easier. And her other hand was cupping his balls. 

Of course Johnny had to spread his legs a bit so she could comfortably jerk him off, and she was still sitting on his lap, with enough space between her and Johnny's stomach so she can fit her hands between his legs and reduce him to a wet, panting, mess.

Slick sounds were heard in her bedroom, along with Johnny's gasps, moans and curses. He was still holding onto that skirt against his stomach for dear life after being threatened to stop jerking him off if he drops it by Angel. 

His tan chest was pink and his nipples were hard pebbles now, begging to be kissed and licked. The swell of Johnny's chest kept going up and down when Angel leaned forward to place a tiny kiss to one of Johnny's pecs, then collarbone, neck, side of his mouth, chin and finally mouth. 

Little gasps and moans were spilling out of his lips as she skilfully brought him to his climax where he spilled all over her hand and the skirt. 

Angel felt her chest swell with pride when she felt his warm cum cover her fingers. She didn't say anything nor paid attention to the slick mess in her underwear, or how the fabric was practically plastered to her pussy at that point. 

"Sorry-" Soap panted out, wiping the sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand. 

"Why are you apologising for?" Angel said, running her fingers through his mohawk. 

"I ruined your skirt." He said, fluttering his eyes shut and letting himself fall back on the bed, placing his warm hands on her naked thighs as he calmed down from his orgasm. 

"I can wash it." Angel hummed and placed a small kiss on his lips and he grinned, eyes dark and full of lust. 

"You're good with your hands, bonnie." He bit his lower lip and thumbed at the hem of her short jean skirt. 

"I'm even better with my mouth." She grinned and he felt arousal stir again at the bottom of his stomach.

"You'll have to show me another day. It's my turn now." He said and gave a smack to her inner thigh, gaining him a squeal from her as he manhandled them around so she was laying on her back with her legs over his shoulders. 

"At least let me take this off-" Angel tried to pull her skirt down and Soap pried her hands away from it, "No need, just trust me and relax." 

Angel nodded and almost gulped when she saw how dark and absolutely spilling with lust his eyes were. He looked at her like he was about to devour her whole, like a tiger hiding behind high grass, watching a gazelle before striking.

"Just trust me and relax." 

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[girlwithletters]

Another one is coming

Párosítás: Jude Bellingham x olvasó / te vagy aki akarod

It was cool in the living room, except for some embers flickering in the fireplace. Jude Bellingham still couldn't bring himself to put wood on the fire, even though the woodcutter was only an arm's length away. Even if he was locked in the hottest pot of hell, it wouldn't have warmed his soaked, ice-cold body. His head was heavy with wine and his body was empty without the heart and soul left in his home.

- Jude - Vinicius Jr. couldn't even get his friend's full attention with his voice.

- What? - muttered Jude in displeasure, looking at the empty bottle in the left hand of the ever-smiling Brazilian.

- When this cursed storm subsides somewhat, I will accompany you back to your wife. But until then, all we can do is wait.

- I don `t want to wait! - Even when he was drenched in water, in clothes that clung to his muscular, lean body, he radiated uncontrollable wildness. Pressing his lips together, he raised his head, a tension flared up in his brown eyes. - To hell with you! - He threw the towel in his hand to the other end of the room.

Even the monotonous hum of the television was drowned out by the sound of the approaching storm, lightning strikes shook the windows of the house.

The teammates also felt the same restlessness as Vini's dog. His body, covered with brown-black fur, trembled with nervousness, his breathing wavered along with his owner's heartbeat. Joy flashed in his yellow eyes as he heard the increasingly loud click of shoes approaching him and smelled the familiar scent of human flesh covered by wet clothes.

But Jude had other plans.

As he ran out into the yard, his foot slipped on the wet stones, but he managed to reach his impatient friend who was stumbling next to the car without injury. How embarrassing it would have been if one or two wet pebbles caused the loss of the fearless soccer player, the adored prince of Real Madrid.

Tchouaméni was the lucky one who managed to get the lock key , to take the driver's seat and start the car. When all four of them took their seats, the wheels of the car sped up and pebbles flew. Trent buckled his seat belt at the last minute.

The wind picked up, and the rain falling from the gloomy black clouds became as opaque as the densely woven curtains on the door of their bedroom balcony.

Jude's mouth twitched nervously, his chin tensed, his stomach clenched, his heart clenched by some unknown foreboding.

- Let's hurry! - His voice was only a faint whisper, like the gliding of a butterfly's wings in the colors of the rainbow, but the person to whom spoke to him, still understood.

If they had been walking in the rain around this time, if a ship steered by brave sailors had come up against the waves crashing on high, he would have seen a vision dressed in the light of yellow-red lightnings on the road shrouded in darkness, he would have thought only: Those are the gods!

- It's almost over - I would have liked to wrap my fingers around the balding doctor's thick neck and squeeze him until the last breath, until the last thought left him. How the hell can you say that! It's easy for him!

Laura, Antonio Rüdiger's wife, took my hand. I squeezed hers.

"I know you'd rather kill him," he grinned at me. I admit, as much as I hated Laura in the past, I have grown to like her in the last six months. In her worried eyes, I saw my shattered reflection, my face distorted from the pain of childbirth, my hair stuck to my pale skin wet from sweat.

- I'm ugly!

- You're beautiful! - he pressed a soothing kiss on my forehead. I was very tired. I would have preferred to close my eyes and sleep a little. A few minutes or a few hours.

- Does it always take this long?

- Not always. Every woman is different - said the nurse from the side, holding a wet cloth.

- I hate him! I hate Jude! - I squeezed out the words between my teeth. A sharp pain ripped through my body, spasming my muscles. - When he returns home, I will cut off his tail and feed it to the dog!

The two women laughed and said almost simultaneously:

- Believe us, you would later curse yourself for your earlier words.

Another contraction almost snapped my spine in half. I felt like my bones were falling apart.

- Please do something! I can not stand! - Laura gently, with slow movements, ran her hand several times along my enlarged, tense belly. She gathered her brown hair, which had previously covered her shoulders, pinned it up and looked at me with an encouraging smile.

- Get ready! They will arrive soon.

- I'll kill you anyway! - The pains were getting stronger, I cringed from the pain. I turned here and there, twisted, and buried my head in the pillow that had become a fighter. It was somehow easier with my eyes closed.

- Press it! - Laura said. - Press it! As before...

- To hell with you, Jude Bellingham! I hate you! - As if I had been hit with whiplash, the pains came more and more frequently and densely. - I will never spread my legs to you again!

- My beauty, don't make irresponsible statements - I heard the familiar chuckle next to my head. I got it towards his hand.

- You are here, in time - My palm slid into his ice-cold palm.

- Yes my love. As I promised. Now push, doe! It's time for the little dragons to arrive!

I barely had any strength, but somehow I managed to push.

It was like a lock on a door. However, when the lock was opened, my body felt so light.

- You did it, my love! - My beloved soccer player bowed his head to my forehead with eyes glistening with tears, then with a bright smile on his face, he took over from the doctor his son, William, who has black hair. The blonde girl, Denise, who arrived a few minutes after her brother, was wrapped in a warm, soft piece of fabric by Laura.

- They are so perfect! - I stretched out my hand towards them, when a strong pain ripped through my lower abdomen like a whiplash, then galloped along my back and thighs. I felt nauseous. - I need to throw up - I moaned.

- What's happening? - Fear ran down Jude's spine.

- My goodness! - the doctor wearing foggy glasses leaned over to me. - Another one is coming!

( english isn't my first language ) - just the usual

sorry for the mistakes

[blue2black]

I’m obsessed ngl.

Here’s some more COD incorrect quotes based on the game of Class Of 09. Both of them:

(Also, Cheshire is my COD OC, she only appears once.)

——————————

Gaz: You’re a whore.

Graves: Excuse me? I have a girlfriend and a purity ring!

Gaz: For real? How do I get one?

Graves: Little late for you.

Gaz: No, it’s never too late to have your girlfriend fuck every person but you.

Graves: Ugh, I don’t need to take this! I’m on the honor roll, something you’ll never do.

Gaz: Bitch, why don’t you shut the fuck up before I slit your throat and watch the honor roll out?

Graves: Are you threatening me?? 😡

Gaz: No, I’m hitting on you, flash me a titty bitch. 🙄

——————————

Soap: Fuck that shit! Do you even know how I got involved with this bitch?!

Shepherd: Language.

Soap: Do you even know how I got involved with this hoe?!

Shepherd: Slightly better.

——————————

Laswell: Actually, I may or may not have been covered in baby oil…

Gaz: Ugh…well, I guess racism wins.

*silence*

Ghost: Can we see the pictures?

Laswell: Get out.

——————————

Graves: I’m getting real tired of you picking on me! It won’t be so fun when the shoes on the other foot!

Rudy: Are you threatening me? Are you threatening me in SKETCHERS?

——————————

Shepherd: Is there something between the two of you that you may not realize?

Farah: What does any of that even mean?

Valaria: He’s asking if we’re lesbians.

——————————

Shepherd: You’re excused, cap’n. But work on that foul language.

Price, under his breath while walking away: Work on getting a fucking therapist, holy shit.

——————————

How Ghost’s father could’ve died:

Ghost: And get this!

Ghost: His suicide note was stuck to the fridge with a Cookie Monster magnet.

Ghost: All he wrote on it: SIMON’S FAULT.

Ghost: I’m Simon by the way, hi!—WHAT THE FUCK DID I DO TO HIM?!

——————————

Graves, walking away: I hate talking, talking’s for gay people…

Gaz: What a theory.

——————————

Laswell, furiously knocking on Price’s door: Come on, come oon…trying not to get blamed for a hate crime…!

Price, opens the door: I’m watching football, this better be really fucking good.

Laswell: It’s actually really bad!

Price: Oh, well see you later.

——————————

Gaz: Dude, we'll look the other way on your minor fetish and get you a pizza, okay?

Cheshire: Does he have a major fetish?

Gaz, looking at Cheshire: No, his major fetish is a minor fetish.

Cheshire: So, what's the fetish?

Gaz: I told you, a minor fetish.

Cheshire: I know it's a minor fetish, what's the fetish for?

Gaz: Minors.

Cheshire: Like, guys that dig coal?

Gaz: Not those minors.

Cheshire: So, shitty baseball players?

Gaz: What? No!

Cheshire: Then what's the fetish??

Gaz: ...

——————————

Soap's mom: Excuses, excuses!

Soap: Weren't you supposed to be happy or something?

Soap's mom: Ugh...I'm gonna go up to my room and read up how to fold the pastrami.

Soap's mom, walking away: You better find a way OUT of those remedial classes!

Soap: You better find a real fuckin' job, bitch.

——————————

Shepherd: What's your T-cell count?

Gaz: Uh.

Alex: I-I don't get it; we don't take shop.

Shepherd: You don't take shop...?

Alex: Yeah, they use T-cells in shop class, what's that have to do with AIDS?

Gaz: That's a T-square, Alex--FUCK!

Alex: What? No--if you knew why'd you look at me??

Gaz: I didn't know how much we were supposed to say!

Alex: How the fuck would I know?!

Gaz: YOU SAID WE HAD AIDS!

——————————

Soap's mom, walking in: Ugh, today was hard but still rewarding.

Soap: What was?

Soap's mom: My day working at the Deli?

Soap: Oh...I wasn't asking, but alright.

Soap's mom: You don't wanna hear what happened?

Soap: I think I'm good.

——————————

Valeria: There's something I've been wanting to say lately.

Alejandro: Oh, what's that?

Valeria: The n-word.

——————————

Valeria: For a week it’d be kinda fun. You wanna be sexed up abusive lesbians?

Farah: Fuck no.

Valeria: Why not?

Farah: ‘Cause you’d be doing all the abusing.

Valeria: Oh like what? 😒

Farah: Just weird shit. You’d like…put a cigarette out on my neck and lick the burn mark.

Valeria: …so, you wanna try it?

Farah: No!

——————————

Norris, walking away: Let’s see how the General deals with your abundance of comebacks.

Ghost: Soap, we’re not even a week in and you’re getting sent to the General’s office.

Soap: New record, don’t be jealous.

——————————

Gaz: For real, I don’t like how he talks to you, Simon. You’re actually like, really cool and smart and you should be treated as such.

Ghost, flushing: Wow, that’s uh…

Gaz: What’s wrong?

Ghost: People tell me that all the time and I just say “I know”. But now that you are saying it, I forgot how to take an actual compliment.

Gaz: We’re friends, don’t worry about it.

…

Ghost: Are you trying to have sex with me?

Gaz: Not really.

Ghost: Yeah, I have no idea how to process this.

Gaz: Does the General ever compliment you?

Ghost: No. 🙄

Gaz: ‘Cause he can’t appreciate what he has..and seriously, like, seriously, Ghost…

Gaz: If I ever see him talk to you like that again I will rip his beating heart out and hand it to you on a silver platter.

Ghost: 😳…a-and you don’t wanna have sex with me?

[k-marzolf]

Miss Radish

content warnings; bookshop owner!Billy, friendship/romantic, possessive behavior kinda, attachment issues, fluff, fem!reader,

word count; 522.

tagging; @terry2227 @kayhi808 @e-dubbc11 @firequeensposts @aoi-targaryen @bookloverfilmoholic @thejanecampaign @oops89 @tortilla-chips-and-allioli @milea @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @danzer8705 @vaguekayla @snowkestrel @zz-kennedy @fictional-hooman @firexfate @rosaleenablack @idaofinfinity @cant-help-simping @littleblackcatinwonderland @disneyloverjaime

*+*+*+*+*+*+*

spicy & sweet.

You loved cozy mysteries, shoes on the floor at the foot of the chair, a rip in your nylons, and your nose buried in the cheesy novel. He’d never liked those books.

You had come every afternoon, like a stray cat looking for affection, and you’d clearly chosen Billy. “Wanna bite you, ‘cause I like you.” You said as though at a poetry recital, and digging through your purse, pulling out some lip balm, berry flavored as he brought you a cappuccino.

Billy flicked you on the forehead, giving you a danish with your coffee, amused. “You gonna be able to reach me, miss radish?” He asked, eying the said vegetable earrings dangling from your ears.

You sipped your drink, “Uh huh. I’ll have to just climb on a ladder, Mister Brussels Sprouts. You just gotta hold still for me.”

And he laughed at how you butchered his name with confidence, baring your teeth like a cat who bit the hand that fed you. “And if I don’t?”

“I’ll take the potion that says drink me, and grow big enough.” You said, fingers playing with the corner of the page.

He hummed, “Or shrink enough to where I can keep you in my pocket.” He said, booping your forehead, your skin damp from the drizzle outside.

And then he had to leave to get more coffee for a grumpy guy next door, you stuck your tongue out at the back of his head.

Billy scoffed, “I’m gonna pull on that tongue if you stick it out again.” He said after serving George. You only smiled, returning back to your book.

Thirty minutes later you set your empty cup down, pushing some money towards him. And had a Werther’s on top of the bills. A common gift from you, and you stumbled over your shoelaces, your legs shaking, and fell flat on your face, Crime at Copper Cove in your hand.

Billy grabbed your money and caramel candy, clicking his tongue. “What am I gonna do with you, miss radish?” He husked, pocketing your candy. He never ate them, and had a growing collection of them.

He helped you up, and you stumbled over your feet as he pulled you towards the stairs. “There’s a downpour. You can stay upstairs until it passes.” He wasn’t letting you ride your bike in this weather. Your heavy weight against him was comforting. A reminder of tenderness in the rain.

His apartment was bathed in a warm glow from the lamps as thunder rumbled, and you plopped down on his bed, kicking your converse off, making yourself at home, wiggling your toes.

“Oh, your bed is soft, Brussels Sprouts.” You said, laying back, and he combed through your tangled hair with his fingers, pulling your cardigan up around your shoulder.

You looked at him through hooded eyes, thighs pressed together and tempting him, before you flipped yourself over onto your stomach, yawning.

The image of your face buried in his pillows, your hair frizzy around your head, had him aching with want all afternoon as he finished his shift.

He wondered how he might keep you.

[fruitcoops]

i just reread "big head" and laughed my ass off, will you do another ego award one pretty pleeeeeaseee? (only if you want of course :))

One of my favorites! Character credit goes to @lumosinlove <3

(Part 1: Big Head)

“The 2022-2023 hockey season has officially wrapped,” Talker announced as he walked backward down the hallway of Gryffindor Arena. “This team had a run for the history books and everyone is so proud—and so grateful—to have such outstanding fans there with us every step of the way. We truly could not have done it without you.

“As a ‘thank you’ for everything you’ve done for us this year, we’d like to continue a very special end-of-season tradition: the Ego Award. Some of you may recall our reigning champion, Heartthrob O’Hara himself, and his fabulously embarrassing stories from last year.” He paused just outside the locker room with a significant look toward the camera. “Those may be big shoes to fill, but rest assured we have found the one person who can literally and figuratively get the job done. Behold.”

He swept the door open with one hand and chaos spilled out in a rush.

“Read it! Read it! Read it!” half the room chanted.

“Eat it! Eat it! Eat it!” the other half cheered.

“I can’t,” came Leo’s distressed answer, red all the way from his ears to his neck as he gripped a wrinkled piece of notebook paper. “You guys, this is such a—”

“Gentlemen!” The room fell silent as Talker spread his arms with a wide smile. “Welcome to the 2023 Ego Award, hosted by yours truly and bestowed upon our sweet baby net angel, the Nutcracker.”

“It’s Knut,” Leo said miserably. “Like the lizard.”

“Hush, Crunchy Peanut Butter. Do you have your punishment prepared?”

Leo turned baleful eyes on the camera. He looked rather like a puppy that had been put outside in the rain, hunched in his stall and surrounded by his carrion-bird teammates. “Save me.”

“Saviors are for the humble. You, sir, were voted off that island. Read.”

“Oh, god,” Leo mumbled under his breath as he unfolded the paper. In the corner of the frame, Finn watched him with unhindered glee. “My name is Leo Knut, and these are my top five most humbling moments with the Gryffindor Lions. Because clearly I don’t suffer enough for this team.”

“Keep that up and you’re getting the Potty Mouth Award, too,” Talker warned.

“You can’t—” Leo rolled his eyes. “Fine. Number five: trying to drink out of the wrong side of my waterbottle.”

“How many times?” Finn prompted eagerly.

“Once.”

A chorus of protests rose up—Leo pressed his lips into a thin line.

“Nine times. Shut up. Number four: losing a kitten in my shirt when we had a shelter visit."

"Two kittens," Sirius corrected. "One went up your pant leg."

"Oh my god, can you not?"

“That one was delightful,” Kasey agreed, nodding along. “Just—honestly, one of my favorite memories.”

Leo smoothed the edge of the page, nose wrinkling like he had smelled something unpleasant. “Is it too late to eat the paper?”

Remus tsked. “We gave you a chance. Not our fault you chose the most painful path.”

A rogue socked foot came into frame and poked Leo on the shin. “Read, Butterball.”

“Number three,” Leo continued, tilting his face to the ceiling in a clear bid for strength. “Getting stuck jumping the boards, falling back onto the ice, slipping when I got up again, and only making it over successfully with the help of two different people dragging me over the edge.”

“Like hauling a bag of bricks,” Logan mused from his place on the floor.

Dumo nodded solemnly. “Or a dead bear.”

“Slip a disc about it, Grandpa,” Leo quipped before glancing to Talker. “If I read the next one without eating this paper, can I skip the last one?”

“No,” the rest of the team answered in perfect unison.

“We all go through trying times,” Finn said with a pat to Leo’s knee. “Look on the bright side: at least it isn’t me this year!”

Leo stared at him for a long, silent moment.

“You astound me,” he said at last.

“Thank you.”

“That’s not a compliment.”

“I’m taking it as one.”

“How did I end up with this award?” He looked around the team with a lost expression. “How is it not Ginger Spice every goddamn year?”

“Because we have to switch it up so we can trauma-bond over mutual humiliation,” Talker informed him. “Also, you’re a little fucker and you can’t hide it from the good people of Gryffindor forever.”

Leo shook his head, but turned back to his notes. “Number two: leaving the ice baths to get my Gatorade, then slipping and falling in my own puddle on the way back.” He closed his eyes. “And spilling the entire bottle of Gatorade on myself. And slipping in that as well.”

“It’s important to me that people know you just laid there for, like, five full seconds,” Kasey added.

“Thanks.”

“Any time, Honeynut Cheerios.”

“After I’m done, can someone bury me under the net? I want to haunt you all for making me do this.”

Several noises of assent followed and Leo nodded.

“Cool. Sweet. I love this for myself.” He cleared his throat and leaned his elbows on his knees. “Number one: I underestimated the weight of my new gear, sat on a stool, and fell backwards off it. I took six and a half people down with me like a bowling ball wrapped in Velcro and foam. Every second of it was caught on camera and replayed through commercial breaks, then late-night television. Harzy, will you do the honors?”

“Of course, Bodacious Nutacious.”

Leo held his arms up and Finn scooped him over his shoulder with a grin as the room erupted into whoops, hollers, and applause. The camera followed the stream of players out and down the hallway; Talker stepped into frame once more, craning his neck to watch Leo and Finn disappear around the corner.

“Thanks for joining us for another year, Lions,” he laughed. “We look forward to so many more. Stay humble!”

[briarberrythornedhart]

“LLFIR

LUB”

Eddie x Gal!Reader

Cw: fluff with a kiss.

Black, blocky letters on his white t-shirt.

It’s all you can see as you fall backwards into the darkness.

Or - you can also see Eddie’s neck and the curly frizzy ends of his hair and the leather jacket and jean vest bracketing the text on his chest. It’s so dark in this closet but your eyes adjusted and can see some things.

You can also smell some things.

You could smell chemical cleaners at first - and now that’s faded into a soft burn in the back of your nose and mouth. It’s been replaced by Eddie. Just Eddie. The scent of Eddie surrounds you and fills you with longing.

And he’s so close. He’s looking down at you where you fell back against the wall - he whispered ‘whoa’ and caught you before you could fall to the floor - you DO NOT want to be down there. The floor was sticky on your shoes when you came in here.

You asked him to save you, so this was mostly your fault.

Just a few INSANE moments ago...

Right in front of his locker you told Eddie Munson you couldn’t frickin’ TAKE gym class today. Not Today. You wished out loud that someone would save you.

“Why don’t you just skip?” He asked.

“I’ve skipped 4 times. 5’s auto-detention.”

“I can save you from gym class, princess.” He said. “But you might not approve of my methods.”

“If only you could! I’d owe you forever.” You promised, “Unlimited tutoring sessions, bring you lunch the rest of the year, give you foot rubs in study hall...”

“Seriously???”

“Or - anything?? I don’t know?? Whatever you wanted. If only you could get me out of it...” You sighed, “Stupid fucking Gym class.”

“You’ll award me Anything my Jaded little heart desires? And all for this one favor??” He asked, squinting at you.

He didn’t know you’d give him anything - anytime - anywhere. You’d been pretty clever about hiding your deep desire for Eddie Munson. It lurked beneath the surface. He had no clue the size of the monster you kept trapped in your chest.

“Save me from this torment and you can name your price, Dungeon Master.” You said, throwing back your shoulders - tilting up your chin.

“Alright. Just stay close - and - do everything I say.” He licked his upper lip and nodded decisively.

He took several long strides towards the restrooms located just off the cafeteria.

You followed and (too late) you realized his plan.

You tried to stop him - but it was like one of those dreams where you are stuck in slow motion - you saw his hand going for the fire alarm and you looked around for looky-loo’s but you were alone in the hallway because the bell was going to ring any second.

Until it was interrupted by the fire alarm he pulled - and then Eddie pulled you around the corner.

He opened a door and bodily pushed you with him into ... the Janitor’s Closet??

He was laughing and panting a bit. “There. Gonna take them a while to figure out it was a false alarm and we can sneak out and look innocent and there will be no Gym for you today. Happy?”

“I didn’t think they kept this closet unlocked??”

“Bill says the lock’s been busted and Higgins won’t pay to replace it because he’s a cheap bastard.”

“You’re magical.” You whispered.

“Is that a ‘thank you, Eddie’, I hear??” He put his hand to his ear.

“You’re my hero.” You tell him.

“I know it.” he sounds smug there in the dark. But then he half-laughs, “You’d ... really rub my feet?” Eddie asked.

“My word is my bond.” You’d rub anything of Eddie’s frankly, “ Is that what you want as your reward?”

“Hmmmm... I dunno...never had a foot rub...” Eddie was fiddling with his hands. Messing with his fingernails. “It’s hard to choose because everything you offered sounded real nice. Sure would love to have you bring me lunches. Definitely need daily tutoring help with McDonnell’s class... but if you did any of those things... you know...People might think we were... together. Might seem like you were my girl, it be like almost dating...so....”

You froze. You sucked in a breath.

“Did you just gasp??” Eddie laughed but it wasn’t a happy sound, “gawd, princess - don’t worry, I won’t let anyone get the wrong idea about us.” He moved backwards.

“Eddie...”

“No - it’s okay, I know!! Believe me, I get it. I’m not your dream guy or whatever. And I would never try anything so don’t worry. Not gonna dirty your lips with mine. Not gonna sully your rep by implying you might EVER date the freak...“ Eddie was gonna keep talking and he was getting more and more revved up - and you needed him to listen. You put your hand over his mouth. “... Mmmmphh!! Mmmpph-mee- grrmmmgh!!” He complained.

“You are my dream guy, dumbass.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide - your hand was still planted firmly over his mouth.

“I wouldn’t want to fake-date because I’d want it to be real.” You hammered this home. Then you removed your hand.

“Do you wanna for-real date me, then?”

----

Eddie had not meant to ask her out like that. Not in a closet, not by yelling at her first.

He was gonna court her properly and he had a 14 step plan, with sub-steps for possible panic attacks - but that had all gone out the window.

He got very quiet as he felt her get close. She grabbed his shirt front and tugged.

Her lips found his.

It might have felt awkward that they didn’t connect the kiss without their noses bumping and their arms didn’t quite know where to be during the proceedings - but for Eddie it was an epic first kiss. He could tell she meant it.

He was her dumbass.

[seenoversundown]

Dueling Cameras

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 1.2k

Oh Klahoma - Jack Stauber " Go on and hand me your clothes, Take a picture or two, I can see you"

“Come on Willa,” Sam yelled from across the house. 

“I’m grabbing my shoes and I’ll be ready!” I responded. 

As I come to the front of the house I find Sam squatting down to put Penelope's leash on. Those two are always inseparable. 

“Y’ready?” He says when he notices me watching them. 

“Absolutely, let's go.” I say as I give him a quick kiss.

As we ride to the fair, I look out the window while Sam sings along to what’s playing over the speakers.

“Workin’ on our night moves.

Tryin’ to make some front page drive-in news.”

I look over to him sitting in the driver's seat. “Still stuck in your head?”

“I’ve spent too many nights helping Jake close the bar,” Sam says with a laugh. 

We drive the rest of the way that’s only broken when Penelope starts to whine. When we finally park, Sam is quick to get to Penny and let her out the back door. I get out and start to close the door when I notice Sam’s camera bag sitting on the back seat. Knowing he was too focused on Miss P and will probably be upset when he notices he's left it behind, I grab it. 

Sam’s a little bit ahead of me when I finally do catch up to them. Before catching up completely, I pull out his camera and take a quick photo of them from behind. He’s always been attractive to me, but it wasn’t until a year or so ago until I finally admitted it to myself. 

Click. 

It isn’t long until the three of us step foot inside the state fair. I take the lead and start heading left, straight to the pumpkin patch. 

“You really want to carry around pumpkins for the rest of the day?” Sam asks, giving me a questioning look.

“Well, if we wait until later all of the good ones will be gone.” I said matter of factly. 

A hearty chuckle comes from Sam as he throws his arm over your shoulder. “Whatever you want, my little bird.” 

We walk like this until we reach the patch full of yellows, oranges and whites. Penelope's quick to pull us towards a cluster of decent looking pumpkins. 

“Good work, Penny-girl.” I say, leaning down to pat her between the ears. 

Click. 

Hearing that soft click, I’m a little surprised. I thought I had Sam’s camera. Turning to look at him, I see a shit eating grin spread across his face. 

“New toy.” Is all he says while holding up a small film camera. 

“I should’ve known.” I reply while playfully rolling my eyes. 

“Yes, you should’ve.” Sam presses a kiss to my cheek. “Always gotta document my girls.” 

My heart always does a little flip when he calls us that. His girls. I run ahead and whip out the other camera. 

Click. 

A bewildered look crosses Sam’s face while Penelope just watches, her tail whipping the air. 

“Fancy a game of dueling cameras?” I say in my best posh accent. 

I’m rewarded with a deep belly laugh from Sam that liquifies my insides. My favorite sound, I can’t help but think. 

“Game on.” 

I take off running father into the patch, Penelope's barks trailing behind me. Sam’s laughing out loud, and I can’t help but laugh along with him. One of my favorite things about this man is how free he lets me be. Never once has he tried to clip my wings, he’s only interested in helping me fly. 

Throwing my arms up in the air I stop where I am and spin, laughter is tumbling out of me in waves. 

Click. Click. 

Sam lets go of the leash and she’s quick to join me, her happy barks filling the air. 

Looking back at Sam, I realize he isn’t standing in the same place anymore. The pumpkin patch is steadily getting busier, and I can’t spot him as I glance around. 

Suddenly, arms are on either side of me and my feet are whisked off the ground, I can’t stop myself as I scream upon take off. 

“Got you,” Sam says in my ear. 

“Unfair!” I say as he puts me down. I cross my arms across my chest and give him a fake pout. “You came outta nowhere.” 

“Always gotta keep you on your toes.”  A quick kiss is pressed on the tip of my nose. “Now, let’s get what we came for. Those roasted seeds are calling my name.” He’s quick to grab the leash as we finally settle on an area of pumpkins to choose from. 

“How about this one?” Sam holds up a classic orange pumpkin that’s perfectly round. 

Click. 

“If that’s your choice. This one’s mine, I think.” I take my turn to hold up a yellow pumpkin that’s more oval-like. “I have a great idea for the face I wanna put on this bad boy!” 

“I think I need to reevaluate my choice,” Sam says with a laugh. “How about this one instead?” Similar to my yellow oddball, he’s found one of similar shape but in orange. 

“Oh, Samuel. That’s a fine specimen indeed.”

A bark cute through the air, we both look to find Penelope sniffing a smaller white pumpkin. 

Click. 

“It seems as though Penny-girl has chosen her pumpkin, too.” I say. 

We make quick work of purchasing our small family of pumpkins. , excited to get them back home. I have Penelope's leash in hand as we walk back through the fair. Admiring the rides and all the bright lights that are seemingly getting brighter as the sun goes down. 

“Willa,” 

With a smile, I turn my head quickly at the sound of Sam’s soft voice cutting through the noise. He’s only a few paces behind me with his camera up to his face.

Click. 

“What do I get for winning this round?”, Sam says in a cheeky little tone, a smile plastered across his face as he catches up to us. 

“Mmm.. I have an idea”, deciding to play along, I hit him with a little wink. I motion for him to lean down, planting a kiss on his lips, holding him there for an extra beat. Maybe two beats. 

“Well”, he starts, “let’s get you home then, shall we?” Grabbing my hand and taking off to the car, moving a bit quicker than before. Rose and I trailing behind him as we approach the car. Letting her into the backseat before I get in, Sam’s already starting the car. 

As soon as I slide into my seat, he throws the car in drive. His right hand immediately intertwined with mine, resting on my leg. The sight makes my heart swell, until I look over at him in the last minutes of daylight. His hair is a little disheveled from the wind and the brisk walk, but the soft smile resting on his face as he focuses on the road was really the prize for me. 

Click. 

Masterlist | Taglist

[drzayneswife]

Was it destiny? Admiration? Lust? Perhaps love or was it just him?

I would never know for as it was a real wonderful experience; the kind which one want to explain but fumbles on the words for as no words could describe it.

It was the first year, first day at my medical school, the school I worked and cried hard to get to. It was a beautiful day too! As if even the nature and universe was singing the songs of happiness for my very first day. Happily, I walked closer and closer to my class, my heart beating repeatedly. The type of beating that one gets when you know something beautiful is about to happen and beautiful it was! I opened the door to that class, coming inside, my gaze shifted from the ground and my eyes looked inside, looking carefully, happily. This is the place I worked for. This is the price of those sleepless nights. As if on cue, my gaze shifted throughout the class, only for it to stop at someone. It was as if destiny or the universe was conspiring to make my heart flutter. My eyes fell on that guy at the same time as his eyes were on me. It felt like my world stopped. The time was moving too slow, it was as if I was looking at those green eyes for eternity as if my soul knows him from much before but it was probably seconds? 1...2....3..? For him, it was a mere glance but for me, something illusive and magical stirred in me. Realising I was stuck being a statue in one place, I moved inside the class, making sure to sit near his presence, a presence which was delighting myself and my whole being. Does he know that how captivating and bewitching his eyes are? Can I tell him that? Would he feel weird by this? Should I do it? Clearing my throat, I touched his shoulder gently, feeling my hand touching this lovely being, "excuse me." I called him, my voice a little bit hoarse from not talking for awhile. He turned around, his shoulder flexing in my hand, raising his eyebrow, he replied with a simple yes. My hand retraced back from his shoulder as if not to make him feel uncomfortable. His voice. His voice was so beautiful. I could drown myself in that voice, his voice sent shivers down my spine. "Um..If it's alright with you, could you tell me your good name?" I spoke hesitantly, feeling my heart thrumming in my chest. I hope he can't hear my heartbeat. He simply raised his eyebrow, "Why do I have to share my name with you?" He said bluntly. Ouch. That was harsh, panicked, I moved my arm in a it's okay motion "ah— it's alright if you don't wanna share...I was just trying to become acquainted with th—" My sentence got cut off, when I accidentally knocked off something from the desk. My eyes widened, panicking I tried to pick up it up, only for my gaze to fall on his shoes. I noticed him, he was bouncing his foot up and down, a smile crept to my face. Cute. I thought to myself, coming back up, feeling his gaze was back to his own desk. Seriously what a guy I thought. Before I could think anymore, he simply said something without turning, because of the noises of the other students I couldn't hear him. "Huh?" I asked, not sure if I heard him correctly. "I said my name is Zayne" he said, looking me from the side. Zayne. I muttered to myself, what a beautiful name he has. "Thank you" he said. My eyes widened. Did I said it out loud? Wow, way to make a clown of myself. Sighs. He completely focused on whatever he was doing. I called his name once again, conflicting whether to compliment his eyes or not. As if he could read my mind, he turned aroun "What is it?" He said sternly, "w-what?" I stammered. "I can feel you staring holes into my back. So, what is it?" He asked in a monotonous tone. Confused, in this dilemma of whether I should tell him about his eyes, I said nothing. God, why is it too difficult to talk with people, I thought. "Uh— nothing haha. Must have been a misunderstanding" I said laughing a little bit to cover up my embarassment. Then, he completely focused on his work. I noticed him, he was really hardworking, diligent in whatever he does. He was becoming my role model little by little. I aspire to be like him. All throughout the day, I admired him and his nature. Truly admirable and just like that the day was completed with 2 good things.

1. My first day went real good and I made a really good impression on the professor. ( Though I did feel embarassed by Zayne's presence)

2. Zayne.

When all our lectures ended, I noticed Zayne packing his bag and he accidentally spilled his pencil case down. He makes a real adorable face when he's frowning. I picked up the spilled things with him, while looking at him. You know the kind where one of the main lead is busy picking things and the other is just admiring them while a beautiful background music is going on? Yeah that's what I'm talking about. Standing up, I gave Zayne his stuff "Here, Zayne" I smiled and brought my hand in front of him. He took the case from me and hurriedly shoved them inside his back, muttering a small thanks. But he didn't even notice me nor did he ask me my name. How difficult.

Well, this was the journey of how I first met this guy who had somehow found a place in my heart on the first day.

There's saying that goes "love finds you in the least expecting moments of your life" and perhaps this was what happened.

[deluxewhump]

Lawrenceville Baptist

III - Sam Morgan

Prev

CW: gun, drugs and alcohol, mentions of murder, some misogynistic language, codependent qualities in a sibling relationship

Paulo had slipped from one bad dream into another. This one was stranger to him than the first, though probably safer. He was being housed by a family called the Sullivans, who belonged to the church that had found him on the rural winter road where he’d been left unconscious.

Their names were Glen and Tabby, and he’d seen very little of them since coming to their farm. The house was a one story ranch that reminded him of another decade with its flowered curtains, glass shelves full of memorabilia, beige wall-to-wall carpet, and framed sepia pictures of dead grandparents. The house was four miles from the main road, on an unmarked lane narrow enough you had to pull onto the shoulder if another car came from the opposite direction.

From what he had seen on the drive from the Lawrenceville Baptist church, the road wound through empty woods and fields, dotted intermittently by other residences that belonged to other church members. They called themselves close knit, but the sense he got so far was of isolation, both from any urban area and from each other. As they’d driven him out, each house seemed to him an island, or an outpost, lonely and silent.

The older Sullivan boy, Jesse, left the house most mornings to go to various job sites, where he worked for a local contractor. The younger Sullivan, Peter, was a senior at Cheshire highschool. He woke up early to catch a ride with Jesse if he was headed that way, or even earlier to catch the school bus into town if not. “Town” was Cheshire, fifteen miles away. It was the nearest anything— grocery store, school, gas station. There was nothing out here but the little church, and the houses that dotted the woods and fields.

After the night he almost froze to death in the barn, the Sullivan boys let him sleep on the living room sofa. Mr Sullivan was often gone for a week or two at a time for work, and Paulo began to wonder if Mrs Sullivan didn’t have a covert drug or alcohol problem with how little she would come out of her bedroom during those periods.

One morning, he got bold enough to make a pot of coffee for himself. He was contemplating taking a page from Mrs Sullivans book and just turning on the TV when there was a knock at the door. He didn’t think he was in any position to answer it, but Tabby didn’t come out of her bedroom, no matter how loud and insistent the knocking got. He couldn't see a vehicle from the front window. Fear curled in his belly like a snake. Was it the police, come to hand him over to his rightful custodians? Why would they come back for him after leaving him for dead like that in the cold?

He opened the door just enough to peek through. It wasn’t a cop or a social worker on the other side, but Samson. His eyes seemed to shine like ice, squinting against the sun. He had on a beanie that pushed his golden brown hair down around his ears in their tight curls. “Hey,” he said, as friendly as if they had never met and he wanted to give a good first impression.

Paulo went to close the door but Sam had already stuck his foot in its path. “Woah,” he laughed. “I don’t know where you’re from but around here that’s considered rude. As. Fuck.”

“What do you want?” Paulo asked, annoyed that his heart was pounding this hard over a barely-out-of-highschool bully. He’d dealt with people that would eat this kid for lunch.

“I want to make up for the other day. I want to make it up to you.”

Paulo barely heard himself laugh. It wasn’t what he’d expected to hear. The moment Sam moved his shoe he would slam the door shut, without hesitation or falling victim to curiosity on what he might say next.

“Your fly is unzipped,” he tried ridiculously, hoping in a moment of reflex the other boy might lift his shoe from where it was jamming the door open. Sam just kept smiling, all those blunt white teeth. “C’mon. I’m serious, I come in peace. I'll bring you back in an hour.”

“From where?”

“Just a cruise. No destination. I swear on my mother I’m not gonna hurt you. I thought maybe you had questions, and I could answer them.”

“About what?”

Sam shielded his eyes from the winter sun so he didn’t have to squint so hard. “This place. The church. The Sullivans. Me. Whatever.”

“Do I have a choice?”

Sam raised his eyebrows. Paulo guessed he wasn’t used to someone being so blunt about it. He supposed he shouldn’t behave like a pet, like prey. He was just used to it.

“I mean sure,” Sam shrugged, like his feelings were hurt. “Not very neighborly of me, what I did to you the other day. I hoped you’d give me a chance to set it right. I mean it was all in good fun, of course. You know that. Right?”

Paulo wouldn’t give an answer.

“I was a little messed up, I got carried away. In retrospect I see how not cool it was. That’s really clear to me now, trust me. I’ve got a handle on it though, I’m not doing that stuff anymore. I wasn’t going to hurt you. Not really.”

“Sure,” he shrugged, just to get him to stop.

“C’mon, a quick ride. I’ll show you Cheshire.”

Paulo took Peter’s coat off the rack and followed Sam reluctantly to an ancient Toyota pickup.

The ride into town was undeniably beautiful. It had snowed, and all the bare spots and hard packed ice were covered with a pillowy, glittering coat of white. The sky was a washed out, glasslike blue. They made their way east , the yellow divider line in the road almost completely invisible from salt and gravel. Sam’s heater melted the snow off his shoes and wetted a crushed pack of Camels on the floorboard.

“So?” Sam asked. “Whatcha got for me?”

“Huh?” he asked before remembering and hurrying to correct himself. “Oh. Questions?”

He tried to think. He didn’t want to ask anything too invasive, or seem rude or ungrateful. He was sure whatever he asked would get back to the Sullivan brothers.

“Ok, you’re shy. I get it. Me too. I’ll just start us off. I’m Samson Morgan. You know Jesse and Peter Sullivan. Peter used to be a Gatcomb, but they are, uh, no more, rest in peace.”

Sam was trying to bait his curiosity. Paulo watched sun warmed snow drop from telephone wires as they passed. “What’s that mean?” he asked mildly.

“Pete’s adopted. Family died in a house fire. Probably grandpa’s cigarette. I dunno. They were from Pittsburgh. The Sullivans wanted another kid I guess, couldn’t have one. The Pastor did a sermon about some adopted kid one day, real tear jerker, it gave Tabby the idea… and now there’s Pete.”

“How old was he?”

“I dunno, like twelve or thirteen? Most people want babies, she wanted an older kid, thought it would blend better with the family. He and Jesse are attached at the hip. It’s weird, everyone knows it’s weird, no one says shit though because A, it’s boring by now and B, Jesse will stroke out and beat the shit out of anyone who makes fun of Peter in any way. Especially about him and Peter. So word to the wise, don’t mention it. Peter knows how to hide it better in public now though.”

Who cares? He thought. Peter's whole family died. Why would they begrudge him having someone? The empty fields were becoming more populated with farms and houses. It seemed like each driveway had a pickup in it with a plow attached, like a sentinel. Barns like the one he’d spent a night in before the Sullivan boys took pity on him sat behind the houses. They either had a shiny new tin roof and fresh coat of paint or were dilapidated, half collapsed.

“There's Cheshire High,” Sam said, pointing up a steep hill topped with a long brick building. “Jesse and I graduated last year.”

“Jesse works for a contractor, right?”

Sam seemed pleased Paulo was engaging. “Dover County Builders.”

“What do you do?”

His face faltered for a millisecond, and then he affected an air of bored apathy. “Oh, I’m getting far away from this shithole.” He stopped his truck at a red light. “I got into Penn State no problem, but I decided to take a gap year. It’s more for my family than for me, really.”

“Do you work in Cheshire?” he asked innocently.

“You could say that,” Sam grinned, looking at him sidelong as if deciding something before reaching into the center console and pulling out a can of Skoal chewing tobacco. He handed it to Paulo, who turned it over awkwardly before popping it open and being hit with the overpowering smell of pot. He closed the lid. “Oh.”

“Just weed,” Sam said, as if he had asked if he sold heroin, too. “And I mean, some molly or mushrooms or whatever when I’ve got it.”

Paulo handed the can back.

“I don’t sell anything harder than that, though. Maybe Xanax, Adderall, whatever. Vyvanse. There was a guy I knew of around here you could get other shit from but he uhh, disappeared a year or so ago.”

“Disappeared?”

“Yeah, him and his car. Never found him. It was the same time, the same weekend actually, they found Jasmine Black in the cemetery. Did Peter tell you about her? Jesse still probably won’t talk about it.”

“No.”

“Jesse was dating this girl, Jasmine. Brunette, maybe five three, no tits whatsoever, but she was smoking hot anyway, you know how with some of them it just doesn't matter? So she turns up dead in the cemetery last fall around Halloween, stabbed like twenty some times, head caved in, really fucked up. The same weekend, Charlie, or Evan— he went by his middle name over Washington county for some reason— disappeared, and they never found him. There is still not even a shred of evidence he took off and went somewhere else, or that his car was stolen and he was shot or something… just nothing.”

“Is he a suspect?”

“Oh yeah. Big time. I mean, there was no other reason I ever heard of why he would need to skip town like that. And it's not like he was rich, it’d be a pain in the ass to get reestablished somewhere else without your reputation, your network, you know. So yeah, I mean maybe Charlie killed her and took off. They couldn’t connect them with her phone records but, duh, dude’s a drug dealer, he’s got a burner. Either way, Jasmine was an honor student, everybody loved her, church girl, all that. It was a whole thing around here. She didn’t go to our church, but one here in Cheshire. Presbyterian, I think.”

“That church is really a big thing for your families, isn't it?”

“Oh, could you tell?” Sam grinned over at him. If he hadn’t already made it so clear he was a psycho, Paulo would probably be drawn to his easy chattiness, his quick smile and golden Peter-Pan curls. “What about you? You’re probably Catholic, right?”

“Why do you say that?”

“Your name. What is that, Italian?”

“I was born in Oregon.”

“Oh. But really, are you bought in? They’re gonna try to get you saved and baptized, washed in the blood of the lamb, all that.”

“Isn’t that what you were trying to do the other day?”

“I was just kidding, I told you. I don’t give a shit about any of that stuff. I just go because it keeps the peace, and all the girls there are super repressed and horny. And look… I’m sorry. I’m sorry I dunked your head in horse water. That was not cool. But I was trying to get a rise out of Jesse, because he’s been so fucking lame ever since Jasmine was killed. And I wanted to see what Pete would do. He’s dying to be a good little Christian so that everyone will love him and accept him and forget he’s adopted. It’s sad.”

“He told me it wasn’t my fault,” Paulo said. They were driving past a cemetery with an iron gate and he wondered if this was the one they’d found that girl in last year. “Peter.”

“But yet he didn’t try to stop me,” Sam wrinkled his nose. “Have the courage of your convictions, you know? I can take just about any crazy thing from anyone, but I hate a hypocrite.”

Paulo didn’t buy this backpedaling reasoning for a second, of course. What Sam was saying was ostensibly true about Peter, and Jesse, but it wasn’t the reason Sam had done what he did. He did it because he saw an opportunity to, and he liked it. He enjoyed himself. Sam might be able to fool his church and the Sullivans and whoever else, but Paulo knew exactly how that looked and felt on someone.

“Are you ever afraid a deal will go wrong?” he asked. “Or that someone will try to claim your turf?”

He was giving Samson an opportunity to grandstand, and he took it without a second thought. “Who?” he said with a smile. “These incompetent hicks?” He pulled up his flannel outershirt to reveal a holstered handgun.

“SIG P365.” He patted it fondly and let his shirt fall back down. “Don’t worry,” he winked. “You’re in good hands.”

He thought Sam would ask him questions now about his time as a pet-slave, quid pro quo for all the information he’d just given him.

But he never did.