#and then passed their results to the next group

[shadesofmauve]

This is a diversion from OP's excellent point, but reading the omments on this makes me try to think of how you could set this up well, as a teacher. (Teaching is a brutal job I'm really glad I don't do, but sometimes I still have thoughts about lessons plans).

Even when things weren't disasters, most of my high school science classes ran into related issues. The only actual science experiments I did were in elementary school. (I got a null result! But it was an actual result of an actual hypothesis I actually came up with, in an experiment I actually designed! None of which was true of later 'experiments.')

If I was teaching science, I'd want to distinguish between a demonstration project and an experiment. It's fine to do demonstration projects! Get your hands on something and see how it works for yourself. But it's not an experiment. You're repeating a known procedure for the eleventybillionth time, and even the dimmest bulb in class knows that a different result is likely to be operator error, not real data.

So if it's a demonstration project, let students know that.

And then help them design actual experiments.

And... (I'm gonna get science-flamed for this)... maybe bring in the whole hypothesis thing later? Or at the very least, bring it up very differently.

We learn complex skills by breaking them up into smaller, more achievable chunks. So do that. You can have lessons entirely on observation. The seedling 'experiment' is actually great for that! No predictions required. You've all got different seeds. Start by describing them. Plant them, describe that. Leave them in the god damn classroom window -- kids have too much homework. Part of every class day is the day's observations. Graph the different times to sprouting.

Now you've worked on documenting observations and procedure, and planted the idea that in this class, not everyone will have the same result (different seeds, remember)

If a seed doesn't germinate, or a seedling dies, talk about it as a class. Why might this have happened? Now you can explain hypothesis. How might we test that? Now we're talking about experimental design. Run some of those experiments (maybe as a class?).

You have to build in room to fail, and you have to build in room for open questions and discovery, because that's what science is about. But it can't be a trick, or students are going to use the absolutely-correct school-survival skills they've spent their entire classroom life learning.

Story time:

In middle school biology, we did an experiment. We were given yams, which we would sprout in cups of water. We then had to make hypotheses about how the yams would grow, based on descriptions of yam plants in our books, and make notes of our observations as they grew.

Here’s what was supposed to happen: we were supposed to see that the actual growth of the plant did not resemble our hypotheses. We were then supposed to figure out that these were, in fact, sweet potatoes.

What actually happened was that every single student in every single class lied in their notes so that their observations perfectly matched their hypotheses. See, everyone assumed the mismatch meant they had done something wrong in the process of growing the plant or that they had misunderstood the dichotomous key or the plant identification terminology. And, thanks to the wonders of a public school education, everyone assumed the wrong results would get us a failing grade. We were trying to pass. We didn’t want to get bitched out by the teacher. Curiosity, learning, science - that had nothing to do with why we were sitting in that classroom. So we all lied.

The teacher was furious. She tried to fail every student, but the administration stepped in and told her she wasn’t allowed to because a 100% fail rate is recognized as a failure of the teacher, not the class. It wasn’t even her fault, really, though her being a notorious hard-ass didn’t help. It was a failure of the entire educational system.

So whenever I see crap like Elizabeth Holmes’s blood test scam or pharmaceutical trials which are unable to be replicated or industry-funded research that reaches wildly unscientific conclusions, I just remember those fucking sweet potatoes. I remember that curiosity dies when people are just trying to give their superiors the “right” answers, so they can get the grade, get the job, get the paycheck. It’s not about truth when it’s about paying rent. There’s no scientific integrity if you can’t control for human desperation.

[yougavememyopia]

Here's the result from the poll! Sorry, it took long. I lost my progress and had to write it over T-T. Longer than usual to make it up to my lovely peeps. Anyway, here is the confident, popular yandere who becomes a desperate pathetic mess for you.

Popular yandere, who was never alone. Circled with adored gazes and loud chatters, people gathered around him like he was some kind of celebrity. His overstretched smile full of fake glee. Crinkled eyes masking a hollow emptiness. No one would care enough to truly look at him, all too busy talking nineteen to the dozen.

It was so easy to predict them. The mundane topics boring him to death. Nothing exciting ever happened. Gritting his teeth, he endured their ramblings. Endured their dullness. Their stupid problems.

Taps of his pencil slapped the wooden desk rapidly. A practiced, charming grin when he greeted you— his new project partner. The invisible loser at the background whose face he rather recognized.

"Hey there, guess we're partners, huh? What a total unplanned coincidence! Uhh, anyway, you can pick the topic. Nono, please, go ahead. I'll just follow your lead."

His crew strolled passed you in the fields. Always sinked down on the grass with your back against the concrete wall. Blue light reflected on your face, nose buried deep in your phone.

Your lack of a life amused him. Fascinated at how isolated you were, and yet you were beaming. Giggling at your screen while your posture got worse. Not seeming a bit sad about being alone or wasting your time playing on a machine.

Simple enquiring quickly led to obsessive stalking. Justified by stating how he was merely observing you. Interested in your name and your hobbies, what you ate for the day, where you walked when you had no school, how the interior of your home looked like. A bit of curiosity, that was all!

The school project was the key to getting closer to you. Instant refusal to every person coming his way, sweet talking them into grouping together by pointing out their strengths. No objections were made. His judgment very well-trusted. Now you had the idolized annoyance as your group member, exactly like he planned.

FINALLY, he could talk to the nobody persistently invading his mind. The endless thoughts of you giving him heartache. He couldn't get his beauty sleep at night, and when he did, the dreams were all about you. He wasn't normally the type to approach people, not like he had the time to. Every waking moment of his day was stuffed with zealous yet shallow admirers. Everyone loved him. Gawking at his good looks, adoring his style, praising his intelligence.

You didn't even bat an eye.

He was nonexistent to you. Eyes boring into indifference. Frustrated, at how you treated him like he was someone insignificant. People already began to question his strange, out of the blue behaviour. How he stared at the wall without blinking. You were getting the best of him— he couldn't keep his mask on, uncontrollably snapping at people, apologizing as if he was having a bad day. Every day was a bad day. A torturous wait for you to just look his way.

If you didn't notice him anytime soon, he was going to do something crazy.

Thanks to the project, you finally spoke to him. Irritated, sure. But you saw him, a dopey grin on his face when you repeated back his name. Even getting away with patting your shoulder. He greeted you in the hallways the day after, approached you during lunch the next week, and then started to text you like crazy the following month. No idea how clingy he was acting until you pointed it out. Falling more in love with your weirdness and hidden personality.

You acted uncertain towards him. Hesitant that this was a prank. Afraid that you'd become a laughing stock if this progressed any further. So you built a metaphorical wall between you.

Questions after questions overwhelmingly flooded his brain. Your behaviour much different than the way he was used to being treated. Sarcastic remarks and harsh dismissals hurt his poor, sad heart.

He started to crave even the slightest approval from those around him— what did they think of his carefully picked outfit? Or his light makeup and shiny hair? He needed you to drool over him like the rest of the school did, yet you still didn't trust him. Accusing him of being fake, when all he wanted was to befriend you.

"B-but I swear, I genuinely want to be your friend. Please, listen. I can be myself around you. I don't have to be perfect, y'know? I thought you'd understand..."

As you grew more doubtful of his intentions, he became more hopeless. Desperate to change your mind while fighting the insecurity that loomed over him.

You pushed him to completely give in to the urge to follow you home and watch over you from a distance. He'd ask his many connections to keep an idea on you when he couldn't, but since their questions and teasing and judgement would get on his nerves, he settled for a tracking device instead. The digital dot always beeping in the same, familiar spots on the map.

His mind jumbled into a chaotic mess. Your dislike for him beyond his comprehension. All he ever did was be nice, so why did you not give him the time of day? Gifts nor compliments, nothing was good enough for you. He had never did anything like this before. Chase after someone. Love, actually love someone.

For your attention, he was willing to do whatever.He longed to be useful to you. Be at your beck and call at any time like a loyal dog. Everything from your terrible posture to your poor diet to your sleep schedule, he could take care of it. He could take care of you.

In the end, he had no patience, he couldn't stand the wait— he had to ask you out. A spontaneous minute that he wished he could take back. Stutters left his lips while he tried to make the date sound super romantic. Roses, candle lit dinner, moonlight. A perfected plan delivered with anxious jitter. Red face burning hotter than glowing coals and big, round eyes awaited the response.

"Eh... no thanks."

His eyes twitched. You were a loser! A common known label that he hated to use. But how could you turn down the first guy who pursued you? Choosing fictional anime crushes over a live flawless boy pleading for a date. How long were you going to stay in your lonely shell as a kissless virgin?

His determination didn't waver. He was willing to do anything to win you over. Countless attempts turned down due to excuses. Weeks after weeks of him chasing after you. You were driving him insane. Like you were doing this on purpose. "No?!? W-Wha... Why not? You don't want to go outside, you don't want to come to my place, why... Why can't I come to yours? I-I don't care if it's messy or if it s-smells. I actually love it. Um, I just need a chance, please. I need to prove to you that my love is real."

How did he end up being the one begging at your feet? Fingers clenching around your calves, while he looked up with a shameful blush on his face. Embarrassing himself in front of everyone he knew. Their gasps and murmurs ringing through his ears. Humiliation turning his body weak. Hot unwanted tears flooding his vision. He didn't care— he couldn't take the rejection anymore.

"Please believe me, please. It hurts so bad. Ah, I can't breathe. I love you so much. Pleasepleaseplease don't push me away. Don't cast me aside. I want to be with you. I want to be with you..."

He could barely make out your face with the fat tears rolling down his cheeks. His forehead rested on your knee, his head down as if waiting a death sentence. It was getting more awkward the longer he stayed on his knees. Yet he stayed glued to the harsh, cold floor. He'd never felt emotions to this level of intensity before you came. The hurt tightening his chest. A vice grip clamping down to crush his lungs.

Rubbing the back of your neck, you sighed. Feeling bad about the dishevelled flawed mess he turned into. Sweat worked up on your skin from the many eyes staring at the scene.

"You won't stop until I say yes, huh? I guess you proved you were telling the truth. So, fine. Let's get going now... You brought quite the audience here."

"..." His head remained stuck against your knees. Hands shaking against your legs while he exhaled. Not budging at all. The hushed whispers exchanged in the background making your blood boil. "What are you guys staring at? Scram! Go away! Leave him alone."

And they slowly faded one by one. You ran a hand through the soft, silky hair of the needy boy. More attentive to the mess on the floor to care about your surroundings anymore. Sitting on the floor beside him, you lazily wrapped his arms around your neck. A finger pressing his chin up so you could take a good look at him. He sniffed. Eyes all puffy and red. A deprived beg escaping his glossy lips.

"Please... I—"

You cut him off with a small smile. "You can hug me until you're satisfied. I'll be here."

Arms tangled tighter around you. Head tilted in, and you realized what this meant. A hint of anxiety bursted butterflies your stomach. But you went for it. Suppressing the flinch and moving in. Eyes half-lidded when velvety flesh met. Low hum buzzing from him. He pulled you closer and closer. Lips parted while you snaked your tongue into his mouth. A loud moan met your eardrums. Your little theory of him wanting you to take charge confirmed correct.

He melted like butter despite how you barely knew what you were doing. Uneven movements and unsure licks were just met with pathetic whimpers. Each stroke of saliva making him hot and dizzy. You had a way of making him unbelievably sensitive. No clue to why he felt like this was his first real kiss too. Never understanding the fuss about this pleasant feeling until now.

He pulled back for breathe much too soon, and panted against your face. "I'm so glad we found each other, darling. C-can I call you that? Since I'm your b-boyfriend now... Right?"

You didn't answer. He didn't give you a chance to. Another peck was placed on your lips. Desperate tongue reaching to wet your lips while you cupped his face. Hands grabbing your wrists to ensure you keep them there. Determination ran through him; He was going to plead and plead until you finally gave in.

[nope-body]

.

[snoopyracing]

grapes and good fortune // ln4

pairing: lando norris X reader

word count: 4.7k

warnings: cursing and alcohol use

includes: friends to lovers, mutual pining, and fluff

summary: when your plan to find love on new year's eve doesn't work a certain someone may just fix those plans.

a/n: surprise! here's a cute little lando nye fic for you! it was so fun to write and i hope you all enjoy :)

masterlist

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

It’s not the end of the world to be single. You’ve gone your whole life technically being single– each guy you’ve had a thing with never resulted in a full fledged relationship. It never really seemed to bother you that much, you’d learned to be more independent and learned that your time is in fact more valuable than men think. Though, as the years passed and your friends started to get into serious relationships you couldn’t help but feel a little left behind.

You knew everyone’s time would come and seriously you were in your early to mid twenties – you still had a whole lifetime ahead of you. But the third wheeling you seemed to be a professional at by now was starting to get embarrassing. Also, holidays just really seemed to suck while being single. You knew there was more to life than being in a relationship, but god dammit you’re a human. You crave love and affection and no matter how independent you are– you still want to love and be loved. 

Your friend group had unsuccessfully tried setting you up with more guys than you could count. Each one you really did try and give a chance, but there was nothing there. You didn’t think you had high standards by any means, but if you didn’t feel anything with these guys then why waste your time? 

“You went on how many dates this month and none of them piqued your interest?” Your friend grills you as the two of you are sitting on the balcony of your apartment. You’d come back from another unsuccessful date and decided to drown your sorrows with a bottle of wine and a yapping session. 

“Genuinely think there might be something wrong with me at this point.” You complain as you sip the sweet wine in your glass. 

“There isn’t anything wrong with you.” The two dates a week for the past month say different, but you weren’t going to actually disclose that number to her. “Maybe your heart has already laid claim to someone else?” 

“I think I would know if I was in love with someone.” She doesn’t say anything, but the way she inconspicuously sips her wine is telling you what she’s wanting to say. “Not this again.” 

She puts her hands up in defense all while having a shit eating grin on her face. “I didn’t even say anything, but you immediately assuming that’s who I’m talking about says it all.” 

“I’m not in love with Lando.” 

Yes you were. 

“I mean he’s one of my closest friends and it would just make things weird. He also for sure does not look at me in any way other than platonic. He’s got models flocking to him and literally thousands of other girls– I couldn’t compete.” Your friend remains silent once again as she sips her wine and watches the scene in front of her unfold. “Ok– just because I drunkenly admitted last year that I might possibly have a little tiny miniscule amount of feelings towards him does not mean I’m in love with him.” 

“Yes it does.” Your friend replies without missing a beat. 

“No it doesn’t” You say with a huff. 

“Y/N, babe. You don’t see what everyone else sees and maybe your brain is trying to protect itself from the small chance of destruction, but you two are so in love it’s actually ridiculous.” 

“I don’t think he’s looking for a relationship right now. If this season so far is any indication of what next season is gonna be like, do you really think he’ll want a serious relationship to juggle too?” You’d chugged the last bit of wine in your glass and immediately filled it back up. 

A loud scoff comes from your friend. “With some girl he just met? No. You are a whole different story though. You two have history and are quite literally each other’s person. Two peas in a pod. Match made in heaven.” 

You didn’t understand why your friend was so adamant about Lando and you getting together. What if it ended in flames and your friend group is stuck having to play children of divorce? You don’t want that. 

“Do you hear yourself right now? I think you’ve had too much wine because that’s not true.” 

She sits up on the edge of the wicker couch with an annoyed expression painted across her face  “Do you hear yourself? I’ve never seen someone deny themselves happiness like you.” 

“I don’t think I have actual feelings for Lando though. I really think it’s just because we are the only two single people in our friend group and it’s like I feel obligated to somehow have feelings for him. I just need to find the right person and whatever I may be feeling about Lando will go away.” 

If someone could professionally roll their eyes your friend would be a pro. “You’ve already found the right person though!”

Before you can argue back for the hundredth time tonight the familiar tune of an incoming facetime call fills the air. Your phone that’s sitting on the glass coffee table lights up and Lando’s face fills the screen. You glance over at your friend who’s got a smirk on her face that could rival the Cheshire Cat. 

“Speak of the devil.” She laughs. 

You let it ring, fully knowing that if you answer it your friend will be insufferable the whole time you’re talking to him. You do send him a quick text to make sure everything's alright and of course he immediately responds with-

everything's all right.. just missed you is all. 

Which has you locking your phone and stuffing it in the pocket of your hoodie. When you reach for your glass and realize it’s empty again you decide to just grab the bottle and drink straight from it. 

“Drinking from the bottle because you’ve come to terms with how dumb you’ve been?” Your friend teases. 

“Nope. It’s from having to deal with you all evening.” 

Alright so maybe you did have actual feelings for Lando, but you were never going to fully admit that to your friend or anyone else for that matter. You didn’t want to risk ruining what you two already had, which was an amazing friendship. So for the following months you continue to go on an endless amount of dates and with each one that fails your friend's voice rings in your mind.

Maybe you wouldn’t be able to find someone else if you subconsciously compared every guy to Lando. They were never funny enough or charming enough or took themselves too seriously. In the end it was simply the fact that they weren’t Lando. So maybe your heart had already dug its claws into Lando, but you weren’t going to give up without one last battle. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

New Year's Eve. The final night of the year and the one party of the year that celebrates ends and beginnings. You’d hoped that with the plan you had for tonight that your streak of horrible dates would end and the next one would be the one. The trend of eating twelve grapes under a table at midnight on New Year’s Eve had been all over your social media. According to the internet if you were to do this you’d find love or your soulmate the following year– which was something you were so desperate for. So, your said plan was to bring some grapes with you and find a table to sit under. 

As you were taking one last final look in the mirror a familiar British accent echoed through your apartment. ���Are you almost ready?” 

You quickly slipped on your heels and grabbed your bag off the dresser, but by the time you turned around there stood Lando, leaning against your doorframe with a slight smirk on his face. “Been waiting forever. It’s gonna be next year by the time we get out of here.” 

His teasing, which usually always got a reaction out of you, was ignored. The sight of him had you frozen in your tracks for a moment. He had on a white button up, which he always looked good in, but it was the couple of undone buttons at the top and the necklace you got him for his birthday last year around his neck that got your attention. There was always something about seeing Lando in things you got him that made that funny feeling bloom in your stomach. Perhaps it was the fact that everytime he chose to wear them you knew he was thinking about you and that when he was away a part of you was always with him. 

“Quit staring.” 

You're knocked out of your trance and the blush that creeps onto your cheeks from getting caught is almost as embarrassing as being caught. “I wasn’t staring. I was admiring my good taste. Should have gotten one myself.” You try to play it off and push your way past him with what little amount of confidence you have at the moment. 

“I’ll get it for you, then we can be matching.” Lando says as he follows behind you. 

“I can buy it myself.” 

“Yeah, but I’m still gonna get it for you anyways.”

You stop in the kitchen and grab the little bag of grapes out of the fridge. “I don’t need you to get it for me Lan.” You’re too preoccupied with figuring out how to fit everything into your small purse to see the utterly confused look on Lando’s face. 

“Ok forget about the necklace. Why the hell are you bringing grapes with you?” 

“Incase I get hungry.” You reply without missing a beat. 

“There will literally be food at the party. I even made sure Max got those little cocktail sausages you like.” 

And there he goes again, making those feelings you’ve tried and are still presently trying to push down come to the surface all because of some damn cocktail sausages. “I appreciate that Lan, but I’ve been on a grape kick lately. Just can’t seem to get enough of them.” 

With your purse finally closed with the grapes securely inside, you head towards the door, more than ready to get to the party. 

“I’ll text Max and tell him to get some grapes delivered.” Lando mumbles as he closes the door behind him. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You’d never considered yourself much of a party girl, but there must have been something in the air tonight because you were living it up. From the dancing to the drinking and then to top it off somehow in the middle of everything you showed off your DJing skills with Lando. 

Somehow you’d managed to unglue yourself from Lando for a moment and ended up in the kitchen among the various kinds of alcohol. You’re pouring the last bit of coke into your coke and malibu when Max comes up beside you. 

“I see you finally escaped from Lando for a moment.” 

An airy laugh emits from you. “Yeah, he’s been a little clingy tonight.” You state as you turn and lean back against the counter, facing the large crowd of people. 

Max copies your actions, but not before grabbing a beer. “What are you talking about tonight? When he’s back home it’s like you two are conjoined at the hip.”  Which was true, but you didn’t get to see Lando as much as you’d like, so you make the most of what you can. “Oh forgot to tell you, your grapes are in the fridge.” He motions towards the stainless steel appliance with his beer bottle. “Lando better pay me back. Do you know how much I paid to get that damn bag delivered? Absolutely insane.” 

Your mouth forms an ‘O’ shape at Max’s words. “I heard him mention something about asking you to get some when we were leaving. I thought he was just joking.” 

Max scoffs. “There is no such thing as Lando joking when it comes to you. Think he’d chop off his own arm to make sure you were happy. Hell if you needed an organ he’d be the first one in line to give you one.” 

This time it’s your turn to scoff. “No he wouldn’t.” 

“Why do you do that?” Max groans. 

You narrow your eyes at him, confused as to what he was referring to. “Do what?” 

“Act like he doesn’t think the world of you.” 

Your mouth opens to reply, but no words come out. Instead you bring your cup to your lips and fill the void with your drink. What Max had said was true, but you couldn’t help it. You figured if you forced yourself to think that Lando didn’t care that deeply about you, then those feelings that you harbor for him wouldn’t rise to the surface. It didn’t help that his behavior recently had you thinking that perhaps he felt the same about you and when you have your mutual friends in your ear implying that to be true it just makes things that much harder for you. 

“You probably haven’t even noticed that he’s been practically watching us talk this whole time have you?” 

You can feel your heart rate start to speed up just at the thought of it. As your eyes scan the room they finally land on the Brit standing in the corner with some other people, but he’s not actually engaging in the conversation, he’s too busy staring back at you. Somehow from across the room you can still see those pretty mixture of blue and green eyes of his sparkle and when he realizes you're finally looking back at him a shy smile spreads across his face before he’s quickly looking away. 

“Wish you two would stop dancing around each other and just admit what we all already know.” Max mumbles before taking a swig of his beer. 

Maybe it’s the mixture of alcohol and the fact that you’ve once again got someone in your ear about Lando and you, but you can sense those feelings starting to claw their way back up and you aren’t sure if you can push them back down tonight. 

“Ten minutes until midnight!” The DJ’s voice travels through the apartment and you’re sure Max will be getting some kind of fee taped to his door in the morning. 

Max says something about talking to you later before exiting the kitchen and you realize with ten minutes till midnight that you’ve got to get your grapes and find a table to fit under. For the moment you push Lando to the back of your mind and focus on your very important task at hand. 

Luckily for you Max had a decently sized dining table in his apartment so with your grapes in hand you crawled under the table, which thankfully was shielded by a tablecloth, and settled in for your feast. 

Lando on the other hand had been searching for you everywhere since the ten minute announcement. He’d literally just seen you in the kitchen with Max and then when he looked back again you were both gone. He’d gone in the bathrooms, the bedrooms, the closets, every single place he could think you would be and it’s like you had vanished. Max had a large apartment, especially to be living in London, but it wasn’t that big to allow for you to not be found. His texts to you had gone unanswered and he began to think maybe you had left, but he knew you would have told him if you were leaving, so that theory went out the window. 

When the five minute announcement hit his ears he began asking people if they had seen you and with each no or i think she was in the kitchen a while ago he received his hopes of finding you before midnight started to diminish. 

He’d finally worked up the courage to tell you how he’d felt tonight. After years of holding himself back and not wanting to ruin what you two already had, he’d decided that life was too short and that he would come to regret not allowing himself to truly love you like he should. He knew you were the one and there wasn’t a bone in his body that didn’t think you didn’t feel the same. So, he was finally going to bite the bullet tonight and he wanted you to be the person he was kissing as the clock struck twelve. But if he couldn’t find you, then how in the world was he supposed to do that? 

Lando was honestly starting to get worried over not being able to find you, screw the whole love confession at this point. What if something had happened to you? He’d been all over Max’s place countless times and he still couldn’t find you. With the official countdown echoing through the apartment he decided to just say fuck it and head to your place and see if you had gone home.

As he was heading to get his coat a familiar sparkly heel sticking out from under the dining table caught his attention. It was the same type of heels he’d seen you put on earlier and he did somewhat of a double take. He wondered if it was the couple drinks he’d had messing with him because why would you be sitting under Max’s dining table? 

He crouches down and slowly lifts the table cloth up, unsure of what he’s going to find underneath it. Everyone is only getting louder and with five seconds until midnight what he finds staring back at him under the table is not at all how he expected his night to end up. There you are with your now empty bag of grapes on the floor and your cheeks stuffed full of said grapes. You resemble something of a chipmunk and Lando can’t help but laugh at you. 

“What the hell are you doing down here?” 

The excessively loud shouting of happy new year from everyone while noise makers and confetti fill the air distract both Lando and you for a moment. He didn’t think this is the position he’d be in right now, he figured he’d be in that crowd with his lips on yours like so many others right now. While you on the other hand didn’t think you’d be caught in such an embarrassing situation, not to mention you hadn’t even gotten all your grapes down, so this stupid thing was probably all for nothing. 

His attention is back on you in no time and he really wants to know what you were doing. Were you that addicted to grapes that you had to hide under the table while you got your fix? If so, he may need to have a talk with you. 

“Seriously, why are you hiding under the table stuffing grapes into your mouth?” He prods again. 

Your mouth is still so full of the grapes that you can’t really talk and all you can manage to get out is leave while simultaneously trying to jab his leg with your heel. You were embarrassed and at this point scared you might choke on the grapes, and you’d rather go out in peace then have Lando cause a scene because you were choking. 

“Ouch!” Lando yelps as your heel finally makes contact with him. You know he’s being dramatic because you barely even kicked him, but you would try anything for him to drop that table cloth and let you be. “Come on, come out from under there.” Lando grabs your arm and practically forces you to come out from under the table.

Luckily, everyone else was too preoccupied with still ringing in the New Year to see you crawl out and as you dust yourself off you're still chomping on the last couple grapes left. The party only seems to be getting crazier and you don’t really feel like staying here until the party inevitably ends at an ungodly hour in the morning, especially now that your plan for love has undoubtedly failed. 

You finally swallow the last couple grapes and take a deep breath, the fear of choking and embarrassment now behind you. “Do you care if I leave? Not really feeling the party that much anymore.” 

Lando doesn’t even question your request. “I’ll walk you home, let me grab our coats and tell Max we are leaving.” 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The cold England air hits you as you exit Max’s apartment building and you’re thankful that your place isn’t very far from his. It’s silent between Lando and you for some time, the sound of your heels on the pavement, fireworks in the distance, and other people celebrating are the only things you two hear. 

“Can I ask you something?” Lando finally breaks the silence. 

“Shoot.” 

He takes a deep breath fully knowing once he opens this locked away side of him that there’s no going back. “Have you ever thought about us?” 

You feel your heart skip a beat at his question, yet you try to remain cool and collected. “What do you mean?” 

He stops in his tracks causing you to mimic his actions. “Like,” he motions between the two of you, “us.”

There’s not a doubt in your mind about what he’s referring to and yes you do think about the two of you. Yet your brain feels scrambled once you're actually confronted with the possibility of Lando feeling the same as you. You’d tried so hard to ignore the feelings, hell you’d tried something you saw on the internet to hopefully bring a different man into your life to finally squash those feelings. You’d just never thought you’d be in this position though and it’s throwing you into a whirlwind. 

Lando isn’t sure what your silence means and he figures he’s already started, he might as well just fully admit it at this point. 

“Fuck it. I told myself I was going to do this tonight and I’m not gonna chicken out again.” His cheeks are rosy from the cold and you can tell by the way his pretty eyes dart all around your face that he’s trying to figure out how to say what he wants to say. “I’ve got feelings for you.” He finally blurts out.

“No scratch that I’m in love with you Y/N. Think I have been for some time now. I’ve tried telling you how I felt for what seems like ages, but I’ve always been too scared to. I’ve been afraid that you wouldn’t feel the same and to me I’d rather bottle up my feelings and keep you in my life then tell you how I feel and lose you. But clearly I’ve grown tired of that and realized that the reward would be higher than the risk. You’re my person Y/N. I couldn’t imagine life without you and to have you be mine would make life that much better. So here I am baring my heart to you on some street in London on New Year’s Eve. I actually had a whole plan on how I was-” 

His rambling while you loved most of the time was cut off by your desire to shut him up with your lips on his and you did just that. You grabbed him by his coat and pulled him into you, your lips crashing together. It takes him a moment to realize what's happening, but when his brain finally starts to work and he kisses you back it’s everything you could have imagined and more.

Kissing Lando is like heaven on Earth and the way his soft lips feel against yours has you wishing you would have just stopped being so stubborn and listened to your friends ages ago. His large warm hands come out of his pockets and he cups your face as he deepens the kiss, which has you feeling lightheaded and warm all over. 

There’s fireworks being let off not too far away that light up the sky above you, but you’re too engrossed in each other to pay them much mind. It’s truly like a scene straight out of a movie and you know you’ll remember this moment forever. 

You two finally pull away to breathe and it’s like you can see the world in a whole new way. The depressing grey landscape of London in the winter time suddenly looks like it was painted in technicolor and neither of you can wipe the cheek hurting grin off your faces. “So I guess you feel the same?” He asks. 

“Yes Lando Norris, I’m in love with you too. Have been for a while and like you I didn’t want to ruin what we already have. To me there was no possible way that you felt the same and I hate rejection and the idea of losing you. So, I went on a million dates trying to find someone that would replace how I felt about you, but I guess you can’t replace someone who your heart has already laid claim to.” 

You feel Lando intertwine your fingers with his and it’s like everything just feels right in the world. 

“I’m glad we stopped being so stubborn and that I don’t have to see you out with all those random guys anymore.” 

“Believe me, none of them even came close to comparing to you. It was like going on a date with a sack of potatoes most of the time.” 

His infectious laugh fills your ears and you feel your heart swell. You can’t believe this was what you were depriving yourself of for so long. 

The rest of the walk back to your apartment is spent walking hand in hand. All while little giggles escape each of you ever so often and Lando occasionally kisses you on the head or lifts your intertwined hands up to plant a kiss there. 

“I have to ask again. It’s really been bugging me. What were you doing under that table?” Lando asks as you near your apartment building. A loud groan emits from you and there isn’t anything less that you would want to talk about than that. “Come on, just tell me!” 

“Fine! I saw this thing on the internet that if you eat twelve green grapes under a table at midnight that it’s supposed to bring you luck in the love department in the New Year. Like you’d find your soulmate or something. I was so desperate to try and get over these feelings I have for you so what we had wouldn’t be ruined that I was willing to try anything.” 

He’s silent for a moment and then he looks at you with the biggest smile on his face. “Well I’d say it worked didn’t it? You’ve found love and not to be overzealous, but I’d say your soulmate too.” 

You’re stunned for a moment when you realize that yes, the grapes did work, just not in the way you planned. The universe had put Lando in your life years ago and for some weird reason had you wait this long to finally truly be in one another's lives, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. Hell, you’d eat a whole package of grapes if that meant Lando and you got to be together in every lifetime. 

“They did, didn't they? I guess almost choking to death was worth it in the end.” 

“I mean I know I’m every woman’s dream, but you didn’t almost have to kill yourself to get my attention baby.” 

You playfully slap his arm as he laughs at you. That big head of his was sometimes fully ego and you realized you were going to have to put up with it all the time now. “Oh shut up.” 

“Yeah, but you love me.” He states before pressing a kiss to your lips, which has your mind feeling like TV static once again. 

When you pull away and look him in the eyes there’s nothing but pure love staring back at you and you know that this is who is meant to be in your life, till the end. “More than you’ll ever know.” 

The next morning you receive a group text from Max with Lando and you in it.  

max: why have i found an empty bag with what looks to be a grape stem in it under my dining table??? i fully know it was one of you.

you: i don’t know what you're talking about. 

lando: me either. no grapes were consumed by us last night. must have been someone else. 

[aurynsia]

Touch Tank

James Potter x Reader

——————— ⋆☆ ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

Summary: Your friends discover that you and James have finally done the deed…

Warnings: 18+ MATURE THEMES, oneshot, suggestive content, implied intimacy, virgin!james x virgin!reader, teasing, Sirius being Sirius, mild wolfstar content, reader is embarrassed about intimacy, and, of course, James Potter is good in bed.

Word count: 1.4K

Masterist

——————— ⋆☆ ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

James had pleaded for you to stay behind to study at Hogwarts during this week’s Hogsmeade trip, claiming he couldn’t pass his next exam without his pretty girlfriend by his side. You began working at James’ desk before moving to his floor…then to his bed.

He stared at you with pure longing as you transcribed notes from your textbook, his touch was soft against your shoulders as he kissed your skin. His attention had completely abandoned his own notes long ago, preferring to cover you in gentle kisses pressed to your back.

You couldn’t pretend to focus on your textbook any longer, closing it softly before sending it to the dorm room floor. You turned to face your breathless boyfriend, silently begging you with his big brown eyes.

The make out session that followed was more passionate than any other you two had shared, James gripping at your skin as he rocked his hips into yours.

“We can stop here if you want to,” he muttered breathlessly during a short break. The corners of your lips threatened to tilt into a flirtatious smirk as you softly pushed him backwards. James’ growing desperation was obvious, the boy grinning at you while flipping your bodies over, resting on top of you and making you squeal as his lips traveled down your exposed skin.

The events that followed left you naked and panting beneath his sheets, gazing up at the ceiling in a daze as your boyfriend nuzzled into your neck with a satisfied groan and a beaming smile.

He clutched your sides protectively, sighing as he pulled back to gaze at your flustered face, grinning at the result of his handy work. He kissed up and down your jaw, pausing for a second to admire the marks left by his desperate affection.

You were still reeling from the memory of moments ago, brain fuzzy from the overwhelming pleasure. I was sure the first time was meant to be bad… you thought to yourself. Finally, you noticed James’ lovesick gaze at your neck and collarbone, eyes wide as you realised what he was observing.

“Might have to cover these up before breakfast tomorrow, darling,” he smiled apologetically with sleep lacing his whispering voice, “I went a bit overboard, I’m sorry…” He nuzzled back into your neck with a bashful smile, drawing circles on your skin with his fingers.

——————— ⋆☆ ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

The next day was cold with the promise of impending rain, a perfect climate for inconspicuously slipping on a turtleneck under your uniform before leaving for breakfast with your roommates. You had always maintained a sense of privacy with James, reluctant to tell your friend group quite as much as they tell you about their romantic escapades.

Mary, Dorcas and Lily took their seats on one side of the Gryffindor table as you saved seats for the Marauders on the other. Breakfast was peaceful, the four of you making small talk and enjoying your food before the Great Hall doors opened to reveal the more obnoxious half of your group.

James was looking particularly confident, smiling wide with crinkled eyes and walking with a slight bounce in his step. The boys piled onto the bench next to you while James reached over your head to pluck a peach from the fruit bowl.

“Morning hot stuff,” James winked at you as he slid into the space between you and Sirius, lacing a hand along your back, around your torso and between your thighs. You glared at his cocky grin, face warming at the intimate contact. “What?” he whispered, feigning innocence, “my hands are cold.”

“Uh- Mary was just telling us about this muggle game,” you diverted, “what was it called again?” Mary lit up, returning to her rambling about a complicated board game involving houses and train stations.

——————— ⋆☆ ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

You were far gone by the time Mary caught the others up to speed, engrossed in the way James was breathing against your skin and holding you against his warm, muscular form.

He began to pull at your turtleneck ever so slightly, first at your stomach to rub soothing circles into your skin, then at your neck to peer at his masterpiece from the previous night. James pressed a soft kiss to the highest mark, causing you to shiver and stare intently at your breakfast to distract yourself.

By the time your boyfriend had removed himself from your skin, Mary had finished her explanation and all eyes were on the two of you.

Sirius furrowed his brows, gazing from James, to you, back to James, then to Remus. Remus watched your interaction curiously, eyes gliding down to where James’ hand met the inside of your upper thigh, a familiar symbol of lust he knew all too well from Sirius’ own actions under the table. The girls across from you glanced at each other, then at Peter, before Dorcas completed the circle of confused looks as she stared at Sirius, who finally broke the silence.

“So, Prongs…get much study done while we were out yesterday?” James’ lustful grin faltered as he finally acknowledged your friends’ presence for the first time that morning, turning away from you and towards his roommate.

“Uh- yeah, yeah we did actually! Totally prepared for the exam, Minnie will be praising me,” he pulled one of his hands away from your skin to the back of his neck, scratching in an awkward display of nervousness. His other hand traveled down your leg to rest on your knee, a far more common sight for the two of you. Sirius wasn’t convinced.

“Uh huh…and what’s that exam on again?” He smirked, looking you up and down as you gulped under his glare, “Anatomy?”

Dorcas choked on a laugh, dribbling juice in the process while the others muffled their amusement with their hands. James bit his lip, wincing at the realisation that he had been far too obvious with his intimate affection.

He turned back to you, seeing the bright red hue of your face and the embarrassed downturn of your head. He threw his arm around your middle in confident comfort. Your eyes were glued to a single berry on the edge of your plate.

——————— ⋆☆ ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

Your friends had released a long series of sounds of amusement, cheering in celebration at their recent discovery. “With the way James talks about you, love, I’m surprised he didn’t jump you on the first date!” Sirius cackled, causing James to crack a sympathetic smile in your direction before nuzzling into your neck once again.

“I think this makes us the most experienced group in the school now that you two lovesick dogs, have…you know…” Lily trailed off, “Wait, we are talking about these two losing their v-“

“Obviously!”

James had fully phased out the conversation, getting intoxicated on your scent as his held you close with eyes closed in satisfaction. You were warming up to the conversation now, brushing James’ mess of hair away from his mouth as you giggled at the excitement that erupted from your section of the table.

“So,” Sirius continued, leaning over to you with an obnoxiously loud whisper, “is Prongs good in bed?”

“Yes.”

“Sirius,” James whined, sitting up in the process, “don’t push her- wait, what did you say?” He spun around to face you with wide eyes as you smirked back at him. You were already knee deep in this conversation, it couldn’t hurt to boost your boyfriend’s ego and satisfy his recently discovered lust for praise.

“He’s amazing, in fact…boys, why don’t you go on another secret trip to Hogsmeade tonight? I’m sure you’ve already run out of chocolate, and James could probably do with a room to himself…” you teased in the direction of the remaining Marauders before spotting James’ glossy eyes and parted lips in your peripheral.

He clung tighter to your middle as Peter gazed at you with a confused frown. “But we went yesterday, we still have a lot of-“ he glanced at the others, all adorning knowing smirks. “Ohhhh…yeah, yeah we can do that.”

James turned to Peter with a bashful smile, mouthing a thank you that made the group burst out laughing once again.

Finally remembering their breakfast, your companions returned to cleaning their plates as James continued consuming his, kissing you along your jaw and resisting the urge to line you up on the table then and there. He bit into his peach suggestively, batting his lashes at you.

“No more PDA at the table, Jamie.”

——————— ⋆☆ ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

[jewishvitya]

I don't know how to say this, but someone falling into a right wing disinformation and anti-intellectualism trap and dying as a result, isn't natural selection.

A while ago I said how going "just let people who drink raw milk die, stop trying to correct them" means there's a eugenicist mindset to unlearn. Someone in the tags said that someone dying from drinking raw milk isn't eugenics, it's natural selection.

Their death isn't eugenics. That's why I was talking about a eugenicist mindset. Eugenicist beliefs. Which you show you have when you call this "natural selection."

Natural selection is the process that has genes that benefit survival in a specific environment get passed on to the next generation.

If you say dying after falling for disinformation is "natural selection," you're saying that it's genetically pre-determined.

By your logic you shouldn't care if they give their kids raw milk, because those kids have those same genetics, you want the whole line to die off, because natural selection.

And I'm sure that's not what that person believes. But that's the only way that "natural selection" can make sense in this case. I don't understand how people can disagree with the idea that certain human beings are just genetically pre-determined to be bad, and then still act as if it's correct and keep that framework.

Part of the premise of eugenics, with the racism and the ableism and the queerphobia etc, is that bad behaviors are genetic. So weeding out bad genetics will improve society.

Artificially applying to human beings the idea of which genes should be passed along is eugenicist.

Saying "don't try to help, just let them die, natural selection" or "we don't want them to breed" doesn't become good regardless of the group you apply it to.

You don't have to have sympathy for someone who holds harmful beliefs. But don't talk about human beings in terms of "natural selection."

Disinformation campaigns aren't weeding out the weak or the unsuited, they're harming and killing people. Human beings.

[lordprettyflackotara]

weasley whore || fred & george weasley

‘it’s not about having someone to love me anymore. this is the experience of being a weasley whore.’

sum: fred and george are your stress reliever fuck buddies, who are always there in your time of need. you’ve only ever had your affair with each of them. how will you handle them together for the first time?

tw: smut, minors dni 18+. choking, shower foreplay.

an: got a part two and three in the chamber

Fred and George Weasley were your safety nets. Explaining how it started is difficult, really.

Attempting to explain it to anyone seemed useless, so you kept your forbidden affair with them a secret.

It started back before University, when Professor Snape had done what he always did: ridicule you before the class.

It wasn’t your fault that you sucked at potions, you tried the hardest you could. You even went to the extent of bribing Theodore Nott to tutor you. All of your attempts continued to fail, resulting in you dramatically running out of class mid session. Surprisingly no one followed you as you ran down the empty halls, tears streaming down your face.

It was there you bumped into George, who was skipping whatever course he was supposed to be attending. You had turned a corner blindly, running straight into him. Unfortunately for you he had a small cauldron full of squid ink inside of it, the black liquid staining your white uniform. This sent you into even further hysterics, your fingers trembling as you tried to wipe it off. Like the gentleman George was he offered to help you get cleaned up, sneaking you into the pristine prefects bathroom.

That was the first time you found yourself entangled with a Weasley.

Fred was next, the two of you meeting by pure mistake. You were not a fan of heights, but a group of Slytherin’s bullying you about not even being able to climb a mere tree was ultimately humiliating. It wasn’t your choice to take a dragon riding class, the University plopped you into it as one of your electives. So then came the ridiculing in the main courtyard. Determined to prove yourself you climbed the closest cherry oak tree, only to find yourself stuck once the skies above cursed you with rain.

The Slytherin’s departed quickly, not wanting to get wet. Meanwhile you were clinging onto the tree limb for dear life, eyes screwed shut to avoid looking at the ground. Thats where Fred had found you, having passed by to attempt to at least show up to his astrology class. He found you utterly adorable, your skirt riding up your thighs and arms wrapped around the tree limb. He carried himself shamelessly into the rain, staring up at you from below.

“Need some help?”

His voice was smooth like butter, causing you to nervously peer down at him. Fred managed to help you down, but not without you slipping in the mud. You had accidentally fallen on top of him, your clothed cunt hovering above his crotch.

Fred couldn’t have dragged you into the room of requirement fast enough.

That’s how things went after that. Every bad day or minor inconvenience, you found yourself running to which ever one you found first. Contrary to grade school, the infamous twins were more often separate than together. It never mattered to you who you found first, both of them eager to make you forget about your problems. You hadn’t anticipated this to become your crutch, your addiction. But it had.

Your luck had turned sour over the past week.

Failed exams, explosive potions, accidentally transforming Neville Longbottom into a mouse.

It all came to a head when you were at quidditch practice, your bright yellow uniform a nice contrast against the crimson red ones you were practicing with.

It was rare you practiced with Gryffindor, the houses oftentimes switching opponents around to keep things fresh and interesting. You recognized the Weasley twins instantly, giving them a sheepish wave as you mounted onto your broom. You were a seeker, chasing after the golden snitch like you usually did. You were silently thankful Harry didn’t bother to attend University, instead making Angelina take the spot. You both were neck and neck, your eyes glued to the little gold ball. So glued in fact you hadn’t noticed Angelina falling back, a bludger smacking you dead in the face.

In the most unflattering fashion imaginable you fell off of your broom, hitting the grass with a hard thud.

You were lucky to still be conscious, your head pounding as you forced yourself to sit up. You could hear both teams rushing down to your aid, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you made yourself stand up. You shoved past the crowd of worry players, trudging into the showers. Each team has a designated locker room with showers to clean up after a game. Most teams never used theirs unless they lost, the winning team always off to gloat and party. You hardly ever thought twice about the showers, but now you did.

Peeling off your uniform and throwing it aside carelessly, you cringed at the burning sensation the scolding hot water provided the scrape on your knee. The hot water provided some sort of contentment, your head tilting back to soak in its warmth. You leaned back against the tiled wall, swallowing as you realized you needed some sort of stress relief. You slithered your hand down to your folds, finding your clit. You bit your bottom lip as you began to swirl your fingers around the bud, trying to hold back any sinful noises threatening to slip out.

When was the last time you touched yourself like this? Allowing yourself to unwind on your own?

Even as you did so, the steam from the hot shower rising, your mind went to two gingers.

You had never thought about taking them both before, but your mouth watered at the idea as you began to draw faster circles around your clit. Low whimpers escaped your lips, the thrill of being caught only turning you on further. Your eyes were fluttered shut, your mind lost in a realm of appealing fantasies when you heard footsteps.

You could feel that your face went white, instantly trying to cover yourself.

“Oh don’t stop making those pretty noises just because we’re here,” George cooed.

Poking your head out of the shower curtain your favorite set of twins stood before you. Both of them were undressing, while staring at you like you were the crazy one. “What are you guys doing in here?” You hissed, glancing down at their crimson uniforms. Fred chuckled as he tossed aside his helmet. “What does it look like we’re doing? We’re here to make sure you’re okay,” He said, a mischievous smile crawling up his lips. They both seemed to move in unison, your heart pounding.

“What if you both get caught? It’s forbidden for you to be in here!” You whisper yelled. George had managed to finish stripping first, delivering you a cocky grin. “This wouldn’t be our worst offense little lady. Besides, mostly everyone else left,” He explained. He stepped towards you, your heart racing as you allowed him to step into the shower. You were so flustered you failed to notice Fred step in using the other side, your back colliding with his chest. “Boo,” He chuckled. Your cheeks were flushed with heat, the warm water not helping.

“I-I’m not sure I can take both of you guys,” You admitted lowly. Sheepishly you looked away, George quick to grab your chin. He guided you to look up at him, causing you to swallow. “Shh this isn’t about us. We’re here to take care of you,” He cooed. Fred snickered from behind you, placing his large hands on your hips. “Besides, we heard those pretty noises you made. We know you were thinking about us,” He purred, nibbling on your earlobe. This extracted a groan from you, your body melting under their touch.

George lowered himself onto his knees, maintaining eye contact with you as he did so. “We just wanna make you feel good. You’ll let us do that for you, right?” He asked. Fred’s hands slithered up to your breast, squeezing the flesh before his fingers found your nipples, “You know what we wanna hear baby. Go on. Beg.”

Pleas left your lips like a mantra.

“Please— please, need you both. Wanna be good!”

Your begging only made both of the boys cocks grow harder, George grinning as he nudged his way in between your thighs.

“There we go. There’s our good little witch,” Fred praised, twisting your nipples harshly. You hissed in response as George’s warm tongue licked a stripe up your folds. Your hand instinctively flew to his hair, tangling itself in his roots. “Awe is someone desperate? Thats adorable,” Fred taunted. He snuck one of his hands up to your throat, squeezing the sides as George began to lap at your folds. George adored giving you head, rambling on and on about how divine you tasted. This was evident as he gripped your thighs. His lips sucked at your clit, your juices costing his chin. Fred nibbled at your earlobe, noting the way your body began to grind against George’s face.

“You like that? You like the way George devours that pretty pussy of yours?” Fred asked, brushing your hair to the side to gain access of your neck. You gasped as he attached his lips to your sweet spot, sucking harshly at the skin. “Mmm- yes! Georgie always makes me feel sooooo good,” You slurred. It was then George brought his slender fingers to your entrance, roughly shoving them inside of you. You gasped, shuddering as he curled them inside of you. “Shhh, wouldn’t want anyone to hear you would we?” Fred cooed, smirking into your skin as a bruise began to form. George could feel the way you squeezed his fingers at the idea.

“You should feel the way she’s squeezing me Freddie, I think she wants to be caught,” George commented, acting as if you weren’t even there. That only made you cling to him tighter, your gummy walls telling him everything he needed to know. “Oh is that right? You wanna be caught between us?” Fred mused. His teeth grazed your skin, causing your knees to threaten to buckle. George continued his assault on your g spot, admiring the way your hips bucked towards him. “I think she likes that, us talking about her as if she isn’t here,” George concluded. He then reattached his mouth to your clit, his tongue swirling around the bud.

“Awe is that so? You wanna be our little Weasley whore?” Fred gloated, snickering into your skin. You could feel his hard cock pressing against you from behind, the warm shower water trailing down your skin.

They always brought you to the edge so quickly, but together? You felt like your body was ignited and on fire, engulfed in the pleasurable flames only Fred and George could give you.

“Fuck, yes! Wanna— be your whore!”

George knew the body like the back of your hand, sensing your orgasm was coming near. Fred reattached his hand to your throat, his breath hot as he spoke into your ear.

“Go on then. Call yourself our whore and you can cum.”

His venomous tone only made your thighs tremble, your vision going white as you declared what you truly were.

“I’m cumming, shit- I’m a Weasley whore!”

[demonic0angel]

Phantom Family (In Uniform)

My headcanons for when the Phantoms are in costume and working with other DC heroes :3 (click for clarity)

All four of them work separately, but team up whenever there is a world-ending crisis in their universe or in the DC world (where they’re currently staying). Cue shenanigans bc they’ve been gaining the trust and love of people around them who had no idea they were siblings??? (The Batfam feel a strange sense of deja vu)

More notes:

+ Danny joins the JL, Jazz joins Jason's gang as his assistant, Dani joins Young Justice, and Dan is a loner who only works with Nightwing.

+ Danny is named Phantom, Jazz is named Wolf, Dani is named Spirit, and Dan is named Wraith, named for multiple reasons.

+ In my hcs, the DP world and the DC world are separate, and the DP characters go to the DCU for various reasons. Ofc, these makes people from both worlds slightly different from one another via genetic makeup, culture, politics, etc.

+ Jazz was the first to arrive and she mainly wanted to study and practice her fields at Arkham Asylum. However, she got bored and decided to join Jason’s gang as his assistant before quickly earning his trust and then accidentally gaining more power within the gang. Dani came next and asked to join Young Justice. She was accepted and thus became friends with everyone there. Dan was next, but he thought he got the wrong universe and wasn’t able to contact anyone for awhile. He met Nightwing, and after being interested in his innate goodness, decided to stay around him and continue bothering him, eventually resulting in a genuine relationship where he strives to become better. Danny came last and asked to join the Justice League, which they allowed after awhile as he proved himself, eventually becoming one of the top hitters and most powerful members.

+ Danny’s relationship with the JL was cold at first because his arrival was unprecedented and he was considered an unknown. Eventually, they started realizing that he was chill, but it took a long time before anyone could even trust him since he wasn’t really a team player. At some point, Batman was able to get his identity out of him, and after realizing that he was genuinely young, Batman softened and everyone started trusting and befriending him slowly.

+ Jazz’s relationship with Jason was stilted at first bc Jazz was lowkey suspicious and Jason didn’t trust her. After a while, she proved herself to him and helped him a lot, so they began developing a friendship and eventually, she gained the trust and loyalty of everyone around her. She and Jason have a great but complex relationship with the only hurdle being their secret identities. Both of them have an irrational fear of rejection from the other, so they go out of their way to avoid finding each other’s identities (even if it would be really easy for both of them) which has resulted in a lot of frustration and slow burn.

+ Dani’s relationship with Young Justice started out a little awkward, but her personality and charm won them over and with her assistance towards Secret, she was able to integrate herself into the group easily. She’s considered the newest, so they kind of treat her as the baby, but after a lot of crazy adventures, they trust her with the spiritual and supernatural stuff.

+ Dan’s relationship with Nightwing started out as extremely hostile since Nightwing took no chances and almost immediately wanted to attack him. Dan had no problem with this and often provoked him, but was too powerful to be fought off, only leaving whenever he wanted, which resulted in a lot of frustration and anger. As time passed, Dan made himself into a neutral force in Bludhaven as someone who would not kill others, but would not help unless it was Nightwing asking. He wore down Nightwing enough by popping up for more fights that eventually, Nightwing just lowkey teamed up with him until he was accidentally established as his partner.

+ Danny has both his job of being hero and of being the High King of the Infinite Realms. He balances it out pretty well, since JL is also rather flexible. Jazz has both her job of being Jason’s assistant and of being a psychiatrist at Arkham Asylum. She cannot sleep well so she has a bad habit of overworking herself until she drops, but Jason convinced her to sleep in his office at times. Dani has no jobs and only studies or has fun whenever she’s not out and about as a hero. Dan has a bunch of random jobs whenever he’s not flirting with Nightwing, so he can be seen as a bartender, a babysitter, an accountant, a barista, an artist, etc.

+ At some point, they all meet and everyone looks at them like 😟😦😦 bc WHO WAS GONNA TELL THEM THAT 4 PEOPLE WHO ARE STATIONED SUSPICIOUSLY NEAR THE MOST IMPORTANT PLACES WITH PEOPLE WHO CAN BE CONSIDERED EXTREMELY DANGEROUS ARE ACTUALLY SIBLINGS????

[spicyllewyn]

Kinktober 1. - Accidental stimulation.

Marc Spector x F!Reader.

Tags & warnings. Accidental stimulation + semi-public. (+18)

Word count. 1.4k

Summary. The only space in the car is on your best friend's lap.

Kinktober masterlist.

Dragging Marc out of his apartment was undoubtedly always an odyssey for anyone who tried it. Fortunately, you had a little something hidden in your pocket called 'the best friend privilege' that always resulted in him fulfilling your whims.

That, and the slight feeling of jealousy that invaded him when you spent time with friends who weren't him.

It was a good day for both of you, after all, no matter how big the group of people you went out with was, it was as if you were always in your little world, just him and you. Chatting alone, walking behind the others, and always taking a few minutes to take photos at your request.

In the end, the rest of your acquaintances had already gotten used to it, and as distant as you might seem, they still loved and included you two. So it was no surprise to either of you that after lunch, the arcade, and the movies, they were relentlessly urged to take you back to one of your apartments.

"There's no way we'll all fit in your car." Six people in a car meant for five. You leaned a little after saying it, your eyes calculating the space in the back seat.

"Sit on Marc." The owner of the car shrugged as he jingled the keys in his hand, waiting for a response. It was a lost battle; both he, Marc, you, and the other ones knew that there was no way out other than simply accepting the offer.

"I'm not sure how safe that is." You hummed, pursing your lips before turning to Marc. "What do you think?"

He shrugged too.

"It's a short ride from here to my apartment."

You sighed; if he was convinced, it meant you were being the difficult one.

In a matter of minutes, everyone was squeezed into the car, you on top of Marc, the others having to shrink their bodies to avoid invading each other's space.

"Sit properly," he murmured, irritated by the way you were sitting almost on his knees to avoid bothering him. Because yes, both of you were basically inseparable, but Marc was a bit of a cat when it came to his relationships – sometimes he wanted physical contact, sometimes he wanted to push you into another room so that he could have some space.

He slid an arm around your waist and pulled your body until your back was leaning against his chest. Of course he didn't think through his actions and the consequences they could bring, or at least that's what he realized when the car passed its first stop and he felt you jump on his lap.

He gasped, low enough that you wouldn't hear it.

“Did you have a good time today?” You whispered as your fingers softly caressed his forearm until you reached the only bracelet Marc wore on his wrist. A gift from you.

He only could hope that you wouldn't see how the hairs on his arm stood up at how delicate your fingers were, causing chills to run down his entire spine.

“Mhm.” It was hard to concentrate with your ass pressed against him like that.

The music in the car wasn't loud enough to be annoying, but it was loud enough to cover your conversation as well as any curses that left Marc's lips. Next to him, one of his friends was dozing, the other was scrolling on her phone lazily.

Marc pretended to settle into place and mentally prayed that you wouldn't feel something between his legs starting to wake up, right against the inside of your thighs.

Was it necessary for you to wear that sundress specifically today?

Another small bump in the road and it was enough for Marc's cock to completely harden while you looked out the window and continued making those imaginary drawings on his arm. Of course you felt it, but there wasn't much you could do about it, especially with the way he held you to his body with his arm.

“Fuck.” He muttered, breathless as you shifted in your spot, returning to sit on his hip after the movement of the road caused you to slide down a few inches.

You could feel his hardness pressing between your legs, at one point the clothes being the only thing stopping him from fucking you mercilessly until your legs wouldn't work. His arm tightened around you and you swore the air was escaping your lungs, not knowing exactly if it was because of the way he was crushing you against him or because you could already feel your underwear becoming damp, a heat that you recognized perfectly in your lower abdomen and between your legs.

He pushed your entire body down with his arm, seeking to satisfy himself with that same friction that the pressure of your body gave him, until, of course, that was no longer enough. He pushed his hips up, a discreet movement, somehow, but you could feel it perfectly.

The fact that you weren't facing him gave you the chance to bite your lower lip and silence any noise that Marc tried to snatch from your throat with his actions.

The second push was less discreet, more desperate. He buried himself between your legs as if he wanted to tear both of your clothes and dig into you once and for all.

“Are they ever going to fix these damn streets?” The boy mumbled from the driver's seat. Small cement bumps provoked the car to make an almost vibrating movement for just a few seconds.

Marc almost fainted.

You knew it was too much for him when his forehead rested against your shoulder, his curls tickling your cheek and making you smile with how agitated you both were. You raised the hand that was on his arm to stroke his hair, pushing a few strands away from his forehead.

That would be the perfect position for both of you, or at least that's what he thought. Plunging into you to the hilt, your walls milking him as he listened to you moan his name loudly, with you pulling his hair and moving your hips to your liking, maybe he'd even let you keep that beautiful dress on, just lifting it up and moving your panties just a little to the side.

But for now, he'd have to settle for this. For the playful way you pulled at his curls as if it would bother him.

On the contrary, he almost made his lip bleed by having to silence the groan that was stuck in his throat. At this point your juices were wetting his pants and that was what gave him the clue that maybe this wasn't bothering you much.

Or nothing at all, he himself could feel you putting pressure on his erection as you pushed your ass down. As well as the way you spread your legs almost imperceptibly to let him settle between your thighs.

“You are going to make me cum on my fucking pants.” He whispered right in your ear, and you swallowed hard.

His left hand, which was between the car door and your body, slid under your dress, where he squeezed your thigh, his nails digging into your skin. You looked to the opposite side to verify that neither of the two guys had their attention on you and without looking away you moved your hips slowly.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

By the fourth movement you felt Marc's arm tighten around your waist to keep you still, he scratched your thigh, you could feel it. He let the air out of his lungs in a sigh of relief.

You felt the warm liquid against your skin making his jeans wetter and stickier.

“Was it left or right on this corner?”

"Left." Marc stammered, his voice slightly breaking as his forehead remained on your shoulder. The rise and fall of his chest moved your entire body now that you were comfortably leaning against it.

You chuckled.

A few more seconds of silence and you trying to ignore the way Marc's body shook as the car went over a couple more bumps.

His poor cock was too sensitive and he was getting over stimulated.

"See?"

You and Marc looked back at him in the rearview mirror. You smiled, he didn't.

“It wasn't that much of a problem.” He unlocked the car from the driver's seat. “You have to learn to accept favors.”

“Well, tell that to Marc.” You cleared your throat as you opened the car door. “He had to carry me all the way, he must be exhausted.”

He pinched your thigh and you chuckled again.

tag list. @ninebluehearts If you want to be tag please comment it, i'm not adding the usual tag list since i don't know if you want to be tagged on nsfw stuff 👀

[onelittlespiral]

FML: Video

“Shoot, I don’t know about this. Something about watching this feels weird.”

My bro just kept holding my face, “You said you wanted to be one of the bros dude. Just keep watching, this video will tell you everything you need to know”

“Yeah, you said that, but this is just static and nonsense, and something about it has me on edge. Just let me get out of here.”

“But don’t it speak to you? Isn’t there something you want to let out jock boy.”

“I…no, no I… I can���t… stop, what’s happening?”

“Jock boy is about to learn what being a bro is all about. Jock boy wants to listen carefully to his bro and watch the video.”

“No no no… but, it… it sounds so… calm…”

“Yeah jock boy, just like a mind vacation. Just let it happen. Good jock boy.”

“Must… listen… to… bruuuuhhh.”

Sometimes it takes a little convincing, but eventually they all fall. Their eyes grow wide before their muscles go limp and mouths drop open. It usually only takes a little bit for them to process. But when they finally do come too, it’s like a whole different world in there. The first one I did by accident. Found the weird file and sent it to my roommate as a joke. It wasn’t until I got back from class that I saw just how much power I now had.

Gone was the theater kid, in his place was a souped up bro ready to knock back some cold ones, and get sweaty in the gym. It was a surprise when he began rubbing my thigh in the sauna, and pulled me in for a kiss. I melted in his arms as he positioned me on the bench and began stretching me out. I was so relaxed he slid in with no lube, fucking me raw and hard as his tongue kept my mouth distracted from moaning. Thought I just got lucky there, happened to get a gay guy. But I quickly learned for him now, “any hole’s a goal.” And it was confirmed when I tried it with a second guy:

Good old Southern boy, and as straight as they came. Thought he was hot shit in class. Sent him the file when we were on a group project together. By the next day when he came in, he couldn’t add two numbers together with a calculator. He was still smug as hell but in bed, let’s just say he earned it. He was about as thick as an ear of corn, and he knew how to plow a field and spread his seed.

I had tried a couple others since then. A scholarship rival here. A group mate there. A couple disappointing dates that ended up really turning the night around. But my friend had finally gotten curious and started asking some questions. I didn’t need someone to question what was happening. I needed a lifting buddy. This was my first time trying to edit the file to get some different results.

“Hey, bro? What happened last night? I feel hung over as fuck..”

Holy shit he was massive. “Nothing too much bro. You just got fucking shit faced.”

“Huhuhu, yeah,” he gawfed, “sounds right.

It was time to try the trigger and see how much the changes worked, “Hey, jock boy, tell me your name.”

His laughter stopped as his eyes glossed over, “My name is Jack, but my friends just call me Jacked.”

“What do you want more than anything, jock boy?”

“To serve my bros,” he replied.

“Will you do anything for them?”

His mind flickered for a moment. I saw a look of confusion pass over him. He looked down, “Hey, what… WHAT HAPPENED? What did you do-“

I walked up and held his face“JOCK BOY, STOP.”

He tried to fight it, his mind pulling him back to the abyss. But as I watched his body slowly relax, I knew I had won even before he said, “Ye-yeah. Sure thing bro.”

“Jock Boy, will you do anything for your bros?”

His face broke out in a shiteating grin, “Fuck yeah, anything for my bros.”

“New exercise routine. You, face down, ass up. My bed. Now.”

He excitedly ran back to my bedroom. I heard the bed squeal under his weight. Good to know I could edit things. Can’t always let my bros have all the fun.

[mssorceressupreme]

Truth or Dare | F.W

———

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

Summary: Fred realises his true feelings for you once you are dared to french kiss George during a round of truth or dare. Draco then forces you to kiss him instead, which only results in a brawl. You then take Fred back to the common room and help clean his wounds.

Warnings/tags: violence/fighting, jealous!fred, kissing, non-con touch, Draco being a git (sorry malfoy lovers 😭), cleaning wounds after a fight trope, reader isn't in a specified house here, spicy ending (if u squint)

———

The Ravenclaw common room had never seen a gathering quite like this. The enchanted blue flames flickered in the fireplace, casting a radiant glow over the room, which today, was packed with students from all four houses.

Luna had invited everyone over, claiming that a “spontaneous social gathering” would be a great way to pass the time and forget about your studies for a while.

The usual gryffindor group, Cedric and some hufflepuffs, the slytherin trio and Cho, all decided to partake in this gathering.

And so, there you all were, sitting in a large, chaotic circle on the floor, playing a game of truth or dare that had long spiralled out of control.

The rules were simple: if you refused a dare or a truth, you had to take Veritaserum and spill your deepest, darkest secret in front of everyone. No one wanted to risk that.

So far, Harry had been dared to kiss the prettiest girl in the room, which led to him—rather sheepishly—kissing Ginny, earning a gag from Ron. But moments later, Ron found himself a stuttering mess when Hermione had been dared to sit on his lap for two rounds, her face burning red while he struggled to keep his cool.

Neville, poor thing, had been forced to recount an embarrassing moment where he tripped down an entire staircase in front of his crush, which turned out alright anyway because they went to Madam Pomfrey together and spent the whole day chatting.

And now, it was your turn.

Draco, who sat beside you, leaned in with a smug grin. “Alright Y/N, let’s make this interesting,” he drawled. “I dare you to French kiss the person sitting across from you.”

You turned your head, your stomach flipping.

And there sat George Weasley, grinning at you like he had already won.

The room erupted into cheers, and George wiggled his eyebrows playfully. “Well, Y/N, I won’t say no,” he teased, leaning back on his hands.

Your heart sank a little—not because George was a bad choice, but because you wished it was his twin instead.

Still, rules were rules.

Taking a deep breath, you stood up and took slow tentative steps across the large circle, kneeling in front of George. “Alright Georgie, just get it over with,” you muttered, cheeks burning.

George chuckled. “Hey! At least pretend to be excited.”

You rolled your eyes, chuckling lightly, before leaning in, pressing your lips to his. He kissed you back easily, bringing a hand to your neck, letting it linger a moment longer than necessary before you pulled away, flustered.

George gave you a grin then winked, and you smiled back. He was one of your closest friends, after all; teasing you came naturally to him.

"Okay that's done!" Flustered, you rose up and hurried back to your spot next to Draco.

"You guys are adorable." Cho, who was sitting on the other side of you, nudged you gently, and you laughed nervously.

Sure, George was handsome, humorous, and kind, but he wasn't Fred. To most people, they were pretty much the same person, two halves of a whole, but to you, it was different. There was something about Fred that you saw differently.

Speaking of Fred, you shot a quick glance in his direction, curious as to his whole reaction regarding the scene that just unfolded.

Fred hadn’t said a word.

He sat stiffly, arms crossed, his jaw tight as he glared at his twin. Something in his chest twisted when he saw George’s smug grin.

But it wasn't entirely George's fault. You see, no one knew of Fred's secret crush on you. Would you call it a crush? Man, feelings were a complicated mystery to Fred, he never bothered going down that lane, it was foreign to him. Best avoid all that sappy stuff, y'know.

Draco, however, was unimpressed. “That was pathetic,” he scoffed, leaning closer to you. “You call that a French kiss? It had to be longer.”

You folded your arms, tilting your head to the side. “You didn’t even say how long.”

Draco smirked. “Fine, then, two minutes. You can do it on me instead. Save you the hassle of walking over there again."

The room let out a collective “ooooh,” and your stomach churned.

"Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!" Crabbe, Goyle and Dean chanted.

"Wha—I already did the dare!" You countered, raising your hands in defence.

"Hmm now that Draco mentioned it, it was a bit of a short kiss, barely a French kiss, more like a Portuguese kiss." Lee agreed, resting his hand on his chin.

"Portuguese kiss? That's not even a thing you git." Angelina chortled, throwing her head back.

Before you could react, Draco leaned in slightly, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from your face. His fingers barely grazed your cheek, but it was enough to make you shift uncomfortably. He patted your head, smiling like he was doing you some kind of favour.

You didn’t like it.

But Draco was your friend, and this was supposed to be fun, so you ignored it. You didn't want to ruin the mood for everyone so you forced yourself to tolerate it.

Fred, however, wasn’t ignoring it.

His hand was clenched into a tight fist in his lap, and his usually mischievous eyes were laced with something entirely different.

Draco leaned in again, wrapping one arm around you. “Come on, then,” he murmured, his smirk widening. “Or do you want the Veritaserum?”

Your stomach twisted uncomfortably. You didn’t want to kiss him. But you definitely didn’t want to take the serum, either.

Draco took your hesitation as an invitation. “Oh, come on, don’t tell me you’re scared.”

The crowd cheered again, urging you on.

Draco removed his arm then ruffled your hair slightly, "Don't be a wuss, I'll make it enjoyable for ya."

"Don't be scared Y/N, it's only a kiss!" Seamus encouraged, hoping to make you feel better, but it only made you feel worse.

Only a kiss? You wanted to save french kissing for someone special, not some ridiculous dare.

Draco leaned closer, nuzzling his nose into your neck. His hand brushed against your arm, he was so close that you could now smell his fresh scent. You leaned back instinctively, smiling awkwardly while brushing your arm.

Everyone was so caught up encouraging the two of you to kiss that no one paid attention to the speed at which Fred stood up from the floor and bolted to Draco, tackling him harshly.

A collective gasp echoed through the room as the two of them crashed onto the floor. Draco barely had time to react before Fred punched him, his face twisted in pure rage. The two of them were now in a brawl, wrestling each other on the ground. It was clear that no one was going easy on each other.

“Keep your hands off her,” Fred snapped, his voice low and furious.

Draco, stunned for only a second, sneered up at him. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

"Fred! Oi! Stop, it's just a game!" Lee's attempt at stopping Fred with his words was useless.

Fred wasn’t listening. His fists clenched, his breathing heavy as he pinned Draco down, gripping his shirt harshly.

Draco’s smirk returned. “Merlin, are you jealous Weasley?”

Fred loosened his grip, blinking slowly, "I..."

"Called it. Bet you wished it was you getting to french kiss Y/N then. Why don't you let me finish my dare with her so I can show you how it's done eh?" Draco remarked, all too obnoxiously for Fred's liking.

Fred's eyes grew darker, laced with furiousness.

He lunged again, and in a matter of seconds, they were full-on fighting.

Gasps and shouts filled the room as they tumbled, fists flying, knocking over a pile of books and scattering cards from an abandoned wizarding chess game. The flood thudded heavily, as they continued their wrestling.

“Fred! Draco! Stop!” Voices pleaded, but they were drowned out as Fred was blinded by rage. How dare Draco force himself onto you like that?!

No one listened.

You watched them in pure horror as they fought; you joined the others in yelling at them to stop, but none of them listened.

Hermione immediately went to comfort you, placing a comforting hand on your arm and sending you an apologetic look. Was this all because of you? You felt like shit for causing this, bloody hell, you should've just french kissed Draco.

“Merlin’s beard, Fred, stop!” George tried pulling his twin back, but Fred shook him off, shoving him away.

Cedric attempted to pull Draco off Fred, but Draco pushed him aside, scoffing, "Not now Diggory!"

Draco, despite being an arrogant prat, was also a decent fighter, and he managed to shove Fred back, wiping a bit of blood from his lip.

“What the hell?!” you finally yelled, eyes darting from Fred to Draco.

Fred froze.

His furious gaze met yours, his chest rising and falling heavily, as he wiped some blood off his lips.

He swallowed hard. Then, without a word, he turned and stormed out of the common room.

You hesitated only a second before running after him.

—

You found him on the astronomy tower balcony, leaning against the railing, gripping it so tightly his knuckles were white.

The night air was cold, but Fred’s skin was burning.

You took a deep breath. “Fred—”

“Why don’t you go check on Draco?” he cut in sharply. “Or George. Your boyfriends.”

Your brows furrowed. “They’re not my boyfriends. You're being ridiculous now.”

Fred let out a short, humourless laugh. “Really? You were getting pretty cozy with George back there.”

You sighed. “It was a dare, Fred.”

“Oh, and Draco just happened to be all over you?” He turned to face you, and that’s when you saw it—his bruised lip, the cut on his cheekbone, the faint traces of blood at the corner of his mouth.

"Come on, I know we're friends but I can handle myself." You assumed he was being protective as a friend, so you attempted comforting him, but failed miserably at doing so.

"Yeah, friends." He pressed his lips together.

You took a step closer wanting to reach up, but Fred’s eyes flickered elsewhere. “Don’t.”

You froze.

“I don’t need you feeling bad for me,” he muttered, turning back to the railing. His grip tightened. “I don’t need your pity.”

“It’s not pity, Fred,” you said softly.

Silence stretched between you. The wind howled through the tower, whipping his hair slightly, but Fred didn’t move.

Your gaze drifted to his hands. His knuckles were raw, bruised from the fight.

Without thinking, you reached out, gently prying one of his fists open. He held his breath, glancing down at you.

Your fingers traced the swelling on his knuckles, your touch featherlight. “We need to clean this up.”

Fred didn’t protest. He just stood there, his jaw clenched, watching you. He released his breath, silently agreeing.

Wordlessly, you pulled his hand in yours, leading him down the spiral staircase, away from the cold, away from the fight, away from everyone else.

—

The fire crackled softly in the Gryffindor common room, casting flickering shadows on the walls. The common room was empty—everyone was either asleep or still in the Ravenclaw tower, talking about what had happened.

Fred sat on the couch, his arms resting on his knees, his head tilted slightly downward. He hadn’t said much since you dragged him back.

You returned from the bathroom with a damp cloth and knelt in front of him.

“Hold still,” you murmured, gently dabbing at the dried blood on his lip.

Fred flinched at the contact but didn’t pull away. He just watched you, his hazel eyes unreadable, though there was a glimmer of something, awe, perhaps. His eyes studied yours, the way your eyebrows furrowed as you focused on cleaning his wounds. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, you were the epitome of beauty in his eyes, a darling angel.

You focused on cleaning him up, biting your lip. The silence between you was begging to be broken, heavy with something left unsaid. But you chose to ignore it, shifting your focus to getting Fred cleaned up. You see, it was the way you were always so caring towards everyone, so kind, always selflessly giving your time away to help those who needed it. That was part of the reason Fred had fallen for you in the first place, your kindness.

Fred exhaled sharply as you pressed on his wound.

"Sorry..." you mutter, but he gently removed your arm, and rested it on his knee.

“I don’t know how to stop this,” he said suddenly.

You paused, looking up at him. “Stop what?”

He let out a cheerless laugh. “This. You. Making me feel like a complete idiot.”

Your heart pace increased. “I—”

“Do you know what it’s like?” His voice was raw, unfiltered, a slight rasp as he spoke softly. “Watching you? Seeing every guy in that room touch you? Kiss you?” He shook his head. “I nearly lost my mind.”

You swallowed hard, unable to tear your gaze away.

“Never thought I'd admit it, but I’ve wanted you,” his voice low, almost trembling. “For so long, and I—” He broke off, exhaling harshly. “And then tonight, I had to sit there and watch it. Merlin, it drove me so bloody mad.”

Your hands were shaking. Was this it? The Fred you never thought would ever return your feelings, about to spew the words right out?

Fred’s eyes locked onto yours, something desperate behind this gaze.

“I hate that you don’t see it,” he muttered.

“See what?” you breathed.

His lips parted, and for a second, he hesitated.

“That I love you.”

Your breath caught, inhaling as you paused.

Fred let out a rough laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Godric, I love you. I don’t just like you, I love you. And it kills me because I know you don’t feel the same way so I just thought I'd keep it to myself but here we are."

Your heartbeat felt as though it was pounding loud enough to wake up the whole dorm.

“You idiot,” you whispered.

Fred blinked. “What?”

“You idiot,” you repeated, your voice shaking. Then, before he could react, you leaned forward and pressed your lips against his with all the emotion you've held back, the words you've been dying to say to him.

It was nothing like the kiss with George.

This was everything.

Fred let out a soft, startled sound before his hands found your waist, pulling you closer, as if he had been waiting for this moment forever. His lips moved against yours, desperate, breathless. He kissed you like he had something to prove, like he needed you to know how much he meant it.

And you did.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, getting up from kneeling and he pulled you onto his lap, now straddling him in the common room, to which you were thankful that no one was around.

A soft moan escaped you, as he sucked on your lower lip, your hands tangled themselves in his fluffy hair, tugging lightly.

When you finally pulled back, both of you breathless, you whispered, “I love you too.”

Fred let out a quiet, shaky laugh, resting his forehead against yours. “You better.” He teased.

You rolled your eyes, and he grinned.

“Oh, shut up,” you muttered, kissing him again as if there was no tomorrow. He smiled into the kiss, desperately needing a round two with you, his Y/N.

[lanf1an]

SEASONS lando norris x fewtrell sister pt.4 - january 7 2025

pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.5 pt.6 pt.7 pt.8 pt.9 pt.10

Wordcount: 1936

The group was scattered across the slopes, each pairing off for a morning of skiing or snowboarding. Lando and Dylan had somehow ended up together after riding the lifts, and were carving through the snow in companionable silence. Lando had to admit Dylan was annoyingly good on a board, making it look effortless as he sped down the powdery trails.

At the bottom of the run, they paused to catch their breath. Dylan stretched his arms above his head, grinning. “Man, this is the life. It’s great you guys have been doing this every year.”

“Yeah, it’s the best,” Lando replied, adjusting his goggles. “You’re lucky you got the invite.”

Dylan laughed. “I guess I passed the test with her, huh?”

“Guess so.”

As they lined up for the next lift, Dylan turned to him. “Speaking of passing tests, she told me she’s thinking of taking that job in Japan. Pretty big deal for her, right?”

Lando froze. “Wait—what job in Japan?”

Dylan looked confused. “She didn’t tell you? It’s with her company. Some kind of high-level exchange position for a few months. She’s not sure yet, but we’ve been talking about it.”

Lando forced himself to stay casual, though his chest tightened. “You’ve been talking about it?”

“Well, yeah,” Dylan said. “If she goes, I’d probably go with her for a bit. There’s great boarding in Japan, so it’d be a win-win. But she’s still deciding.”

Lando didn’t respond immediately, pushing off as the lift began to carry them up the mountain. 

“She didn’t mention it to me,” he said finally, not wanting to admit it.

Dylan shrugged, oblivious. “She’s probably waiting until she decides for sure. I mean, she’s got you, Max, her parents—it’s a lot of people to think about.”

“Right,” Lando said shortly, staring out over the snowy landscape. — Later that evening, the group was lounging in the cozy living room of the chalet, the fire crackling softly in the background. Dylan was engrossed in a card game with Max and some of the others, leaving you and Lando alone in the corner, sipping your drinks.

Lando leaned closer to you, lowering his voice. “So... Japan?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“Dylan mentioned something about you getting a job offer in Japan,” Lando said, trying to sound nonchalant but failing. “You didn’t think that was worth mentioning to me?”

You sighed, swirling your drink. “It’s not set in stone, Lan. I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it until I decided.”

“Decided what?” His voice had an edge now. “Whether or not to move halfway across the world?”

You frowned, defensive. “It’s an amazing opportunity, Lando. I’m not saying yes or no yet, but it’s something I have to consider.”

His jaw tightened, and he set his glass down a little too hard on the coffee table. “What about the season? You’ve always been there—well, mostly. I can’t imagine doing it without you around.”

Your expression softened slightly, but your tone remained firm. “Lando, I wasn’t at every race last season, and you were fine. Look at your results!” You gave him a small smile, trying to lighten the mood. “You’re a superstar. You don’t need me there holding your hand.”

He stared at you, his lips pressed into a thin line. “It’s not about needing you to hold my hand. It’s...” He trailed off, running a hand through his hair. “You being there—it just makes things... easier. Part of my routine I’m used to”

Your brow furrowed. ‘’Part of your routine?’’

“I just… It’ll be weird without you around. You’ve always been there.’’

The sentiment was sweet, but there was something about the way he said it that made your chest tighten. “You’ll be fine,” you said, forcing a smile now. “You’ve got Magui, and Max, and the whole team. You’re not exactly lacking in support.”

“It’s not the same,” Lando replied, his voice barely above a murmur.

Your hand froze mid-reach for your drink. You set it down instead, the clink of glass against wood sharper than you intended. “What are you saying, Lando?”

He hesitated, like he hadn’t expected you to call him on it. “I’m just saying… you’ve always been part of this. Part of my life, my career. You get it in a way that—” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Try,” you said, your tone sharper than he expected.

His brows furrowed, and for a moment, he looked like the boy you’d known all those years ago—earnest, vulnerable, and completely unaware of how his words could cut. “I guess I just… I need you. You’ve always been there, and I don’t know what it’s going to be like if you’re not.”

“You need me?” you repeated irritated. “Lando, I’m not going to Japan to sit on a beach. This is my career. My chance to do something for me. Do you even realize how that sounds?”

His eyes widened in confusion. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just saying—”

“You’re just saying you want me to put my life on hold so I can keep holding your hand through yours and be part of your routine?” you snapped, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

Lando recoiled slightly. “That’s not what I’m asking.”

“Isn’t it?” you pressed, you voice rising. “You’re asking me to stay, Lando. To stay and make your life easier, while I give up something I’ve worked just as hard for. Do you know how selfish that sounds?”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said again, but this time his voice was quieter, tinged with guilt. “I just— It’s not easy, okay? Doing this. And I thought… I thought you understood that.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding in her chest. “I do understand. That’s why I’m still here, isn’t it? That’s why I’ve always been here. But you don’t get to ask this of me, Lando.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might argue. But instead, he nodded, the weight of her words sinking in. “You’re right,” he said finally. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”

The tension in her shoulders eased slightly, but the sting of his words lingered. “I know you didn’t,” you said softly. 

— Mexico, 29 november 2023

The shrill sound of tires screeching and the thud of impact echoed through the paddock speakers. Your breath caught in your throat as the screen showed Lando’s car slamming into the barriers, a plume of debris scattering across the track.

“Red flag. That’s Norris in the wall,” the commentator announced, their tone serious but calm.

You were already on your feet in the McLaren garage, staring at the screen with wide eyes. The replay looped, showing his car losing grip on the exit of a corner before careening into the barriers.

“Is he okay?” you blurted, your voice sharp with worry.

One of the engineers turned to reassure you. “We’ve got radio communication. He’s fine, just frustrated.”

The knot in your stomach didn’t ease until you heard his voice crackle through the team radio, muttering, “I’m okay, I’m okay. Sorry, guys.”

You exhaled, hands trembling slightly as you sat back down. He might be physically fine, but you knew how much this would rattle him mentally.

The energy in the hospitality area was buzzing with activity, mechanics and engineers rushing around to prepare for tomorrow. You made your way over to Lando, who was perched on a counter, still in his race suit, a bag of ice pressed against his shoulder. His helmet sat beside him, a little scuffed from the impact.

“You alright?” you asked, leaning against the counter beside him.

He shrugged, wincing slightly as the motion aggravated his shoulder. “Yeah, I’m fine. Car’s a mess, though.”

You shot him a look. “The car can be fixed. I’m asking about you.”

Lando glanced at you, his expression guarded but softening under your gaze. “I’ve had worse.” Then, with a self-deprecating chuckle: “Though I can’t say the engineers are thrilled with me right now.”

“They’ll get over it,” you said firmly. “They know you’re pushing to the limit—that’s what you’re supposed to do.”

“Yeah, well, limits don’t win races if you’re sitting in the wall during quali.” He leaned back against the counter, his jaw tight.

You didn’t let the tension linger. “Oh, c’mon, Lan. You’ve come back from worse. Remember last season? You started at the back of the grid and still finished in the points.”

A faint smirk tugged at his lips. “That was different. I didn’t stuff it in the barriers first.”

You reached over, grabbing a nearby energy drink can and tapping it lightly against his knee. “Then tomorrow’s your chance to remind everyone what you’re made of. You’ve got the pace, and we both know you love a challenge. Besides,” you added, grinning, “you’ll make the highlight reel if you pull it off.”

That earned a real laugh from him, and he tilted his head toward you. “You think I’ll pull it off?”

“I know you will,” you said, your tone unwavering.

Lando sat there for a beat, then hopped off the counter, dropping the ice pack onto the surface. “Alright, then I guess we will see.” —  The garage was absolute chaos. Team members shouted and high-fived, celebrating an incredible recovery drive. Lando had fought his way through the field with surgical precision, finishing in a stunning P5. The relief and joy in the room were palpable.

Lando barged into the garage, his race suit unzipped to his waist, hair a wild mess from pulling off his helmet. He was grinning ear to ear, waving a bottle of champagne in the air.

“P5, baby!” he shouted, and the room erupted in cheers again.

You were standing with Max and a few others when he spotted you. “Oi, don’t act like you’re not impressed,” he called, pointing at you with the neck of the champagne bottle.

You crossed your arms, pretending to look unimpressed. “P5? Meh, could’ve been P4 if you’d overtaken Gasly one lap earlier.”

Lando strode over, uncorking the bottle with a loud pop and spraying it wildly, catching you and a few nearby engineers in the crossfire. You shrieked, laughing as the cold champagne hit your face and jacket.

“Alright, alright!” you yelled, holding up your hands. “You win, Norris! P5 is pretty damn good!”

“Damn right it is,” he said, grinning as he took a swig straight from the bottle, still dripping champagne. “You doubted me for a second, didn’t you?”

“Never,�� you replied, swiping the bottle from his hand and taking a sip yourself.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “That’s mine.”

“Not anymore,” you quipped, handing it back to him with a smirk.

The atmosphere was electric, the team chanting and laughing around you both. It wasn’t long before the post-race interviews started pulling people away, but Lando lingered for a moment.

“Hey,” he said, leaning in so you could hear him over the noise. “Thanks for, you know, earlier. Couldn’t have done it without your support.”

You glanced at him, surprised at the sudden sincerity in his voice. “What are you thanking me for? You’re the one who clawed your way back.”

He gave a small shrug, “Yeah, but you’re always there. Even when I’m a proper idiot.”

You rolled your eyes, though your smile betrayed you. “You’re always a proper idiot.”

He laughed, holding up the champagne bottle. “Guess it works for me.”

“I guess it does.”

tl: @ash88-yep @lewishamiltonismybf @harrysdimple05 @lex2205 @il0vereadingstuff @martygraciesversion381 @joannaln4 @obxstiles

[wileys-russo]

leah williamson, “dont give me that look, i don’t like that look” changing room with arsenal!reader please🥹🫶🏻

l.williamson II the look

"alright girls! relay time." david the step in trainer for the afternoon yelled out with a grin, the rest of the staff pairing you all off to make two teams.

"as a team you will hold hands as you go through the course girls, if someone lets go or falls over you go back to the start. once you reach the blue poles you will break apart and take turns one by one sprinting to the end and back going around the pole at the end. each team will get a baton to be passed onto the next girl, you drop it on the handover then you run again, repeating until your entire team is back." david explained, everyone nodding their understanding and you chuckled watching leah shush a few of the younger ones with a stern look, clearly taking this as seriously as she could.

"ready on three!" david called, both lines of women crouching and ready as your girlfriend smirked across from you, the pair of you on opposite teams and knowing how fiercely competitive leah was, the results of this would be interesting.

"two, one...go!" you both took off, stood at the front and leading your teams around the obstacle course set up by the trainers, giggles filling the air as everyone tripped and stumbled, doing their best not to take the team down and cause a restart, but the series of very different heights and speeds made this anything but easy.

you did your very best to lead your team through though you knew leah bested you at that as you couldn't stop laughing and she couldn't stop shouting like a drill sergeant.

"go lots!" you all hurried to detatch as you arrived to the blue poles, leahs team just having a lead as lotte and stina raced off together for the first lap.

"yes foxy!" you clapped as the girl grabbed the baton, sprinting off and giving your team a tiny gap as beth fumbled the baton and needed to return to the start, shooting your girlfriend a smirk who groaned.

"beth come on man butter fingers honestly!" leah moaned as the blonde finally passed the baton over successfully and re-joined the group.

"oh its for fun leah, lighten up for god sakes you're such a stick in the mud!" beth rolled her eyes pushing the blonde shoulder, ignoring leahs 'constructive feedback' as she was now clearly the only one taking it seriously, everyone elses jeering and laughs of delight filling the air.

"yeah baby, lighten up." you teased as she heard but ignored you, kyra tagging alessia who bless her heart tripped over her own feet earning leahs team their lead back as alessia stumbled off to try and make up time.

"its fine less just brush it off!" you yelled after her, all of you clapping and supporting as once again leah was instead yelling at her team to hurry, kim next up who sprinted off as alessia smacked the baton into katies hand.

"good job twinkle toes." you grinned to the taller blonde who groaned and playfully punched you, collapsing to the ground beside lotte. you continued to all yell and cheer for your team as leah continued to try and motivate hers through different ways.

"this is like when we did the pacer test at school. horrendous!" alessia sighed, chugging a bottle of water with a shake of her head, the day unnaturally hot and you were all feeling it.

the lead was never more than a few seconds, bouncing from leahs teams to yours as both of you purposefully hung back so you could race one another. you may have had different approaches to it but there was no denying you were both determined to beat the other.

the final duo before the two of you finished it up were the aussies, steph for leahs team and caitlin for yours as both you and leah were screaming encouragement, the training staff watching on in amusement as the rest of the girls sat down with their waters.

caitlin just had a head on steph and slipping the baton into your hand you took off getting a good start over your girlfriend who you heard curse angrily behind you as she grabbed the baton and sprinted to try and catch up.

so much so that she didn't go around the pole at the end rather just touching it with her hand while you did it properly which lost you your lead, your whole team protesting heavily as leah crossed the line just before you, dropping her baton and pumping her fists as her team started to celebrate.

"nah thats bullshit she cheated!" you puffed, hands on your knees as you caught your breath and your team backed the accusation. "nah you're all just sore losers mate!" leah beamed, arms slung around lia and kim.

"rules were around the pole, leah only touched so her team is disqualified. winners!" david declared pointing to your team who all cheered, jumping on top of one another as leahs team exploded in protest, david waving it off as he and the rest of the staff began to walk off the pitch.

"you're all just sore losers." you mocked your girlfriends earlier words as the group split up and started to head back inside the training centre for lunch. you tried to hug leah who huffed and side stepped you, storming off inside as you watched her go with a laugh.

"doghouse for you mate." katie barked and pulled you into a headlock, dragging you with her back inside and to the change rooms, chants of victory filling the room as your team reveled in their win.

"hello loser." you appeared in front of leah with a grin, the blonde ignoring you making you shake your head and knock her legs apart, standing closer to her.

"don't give me that look, i don't like that look." leah mumbled catching the somewhat stern way you stared down at her. "because you're being a child." you bumped your knee against hers. "you cheated so you lost, karma." you reminded as your girlfriend mumbled something inaudible.

"you know if the shoe was on the other foot you'd be mugging me off left right and centre lee." you reminded, arms wrapping around her neck as you moved even closer as she huffed and looked up at you with a frown.

"don't pout baby, you should have played fair and you'd not paid the price." you laughed but bent down to kiss at her puckered bottom lip anyway, earning the two of you a wolf whistle.

"fuck off cooney-cross." leah warned leaning around you to shoot the younger girl a glare as she paled and near sprinted out of the room. "leah!" you laughed pushing at her shoulder as she shrugged and looked back up at you, tapping her lips expectantly.

"my girl i fear its gonna take a lot more kisses to make the pain of this loss go away." leah sighed dramatically, her head resting on your stomach as she was sitting down while you stood, rolling your eyes and pushing her fringe out of her face.

"well its a good thing we have the rest of our lives to make up and make out then my love."

[messylustt]

౨ৎ ‧˚

𝐞𝐥 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐨 (𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥) — 𝐣𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲?

miguel o’hara x fem!reader. 3.4K words

fic masterlist previous part pt three next part

miguel unwillingly pining after reader; fantasies about you in miguel’s head; a massage (pg); a hint of jealous miguel; spanish wise—I hope I wrote everything correctly, I asked for some opinions and check ups from a spanish speaker <3 big thanks to you — after an interesting morning with miguel, you learnt a few more spanish words, not to be late, and having him in close proximity might give you a heart attack. your mind certainly wandered when you were monitoring a mission, the spider peoples’ bickering making you feel annoyed, an emotion miguel unwillingly likes the look of on you. but how does he feel when he makes his request… asking you to follow him to a door you didn’t think you’d ever pass through?

“Checking the location now.” You said through your ear piece, tapping away at the keyboard. Your back was straightened as you stayed focused. You were working with a group of spider variants, who were assigned to get rid of a misplaced “villain” as they liked to put it. It just makes their job sound much more important, resulting in then coming back with a proud sway to their hips.

“Bro, why are you breathing so hard?” Hissed one of the spider variants to another.

“I’m settling into my hero act.” His tone is full of pronounced muscle—most likely standing with his arms by his side like some macho man. He takes a deep sigh. “It can be tough being such a incredible hero.”

The others just stare, clearly used to this from him, before a screech meets everyone’s ears.

“Where is it?!” One of them exclaims, frantically looking around.

“It would’ve blended into one of the buildings’ walls.” You say, scanning the area on your computer.

“I’m sorry, did you just say ‘blended in’?” A spider-man asks. “What is this monster—a chameleon?”

You’re silent for a moment. “Please tell you me reviewed the mission.”

There’s silence through the earpiece. You blink a few times, then close your eyes taking a deep breath. “Why not?”

“Look, I was going to but…Parker distracted me!”

“I distracted you?!” Parker exclaimed.

“Guys.” You try, but they either can’t hear you or are choosing not to.

“You were the one who was so eager to just defeat this villain!”

In your annoyed state, you can’t help but let your mind wander somewhere that had held your attention for majority of the day…

—this morning—

You rushed down the stairs, while simultaneously fixing your hair. Shit, you were gonna be late. All because of these extensive stairs.

When you reached the bottom, your hair had become a mess again, making you place your flat palms against your head as you tried to soothe the stray hairs.

You reach the door to your office, pausing to take a breath. Twisting the handle, you walked inside.

You instantly noticed Miguel, spider suit back on, as he swiped necessary and unnecessary screens back and forth by the large spider.

You tried to stay quiet as you walked to your desk, but your luck seems to plainly not exist as Miguel’s voice greets you—rather gruffly.

“Would it be cliché to say ‘you’re late’?”

You press your lips together as he jumps down. You seem to forget how tall he is until he’s towering over you, with a look that states ‘you should be worried’.

You gulp, before forcing a smile. Miguel’s expression stays dead as he waits for you to speak, most likely to explain yourself.

When you say nothing your mouth opening and closing like a stupid fish, Miguel speaks. “I said six.”

You nod. “I heard you.”

“Did you?” His clicks his jaw, a slight tilt to his head, as he observed your quickly fixed hair and slight heave of your chest. You clearly rushed. “You just woke up.”

“No.” You say indignantly. “I’ve been awake since six, I just didn’t like the idea of walking down those stairs, so…I began working in my room.”

“Uh huh.” He sarcastically nods. “Right.”

You press your lips together, thinking you should have stitched them shut. You weren’t helping yourself.

“You keep saying you want to prove that you belong here.” Miguel begins. He leans forward, his red eyes gleaming, his fangs becoming more visible as he snarls. “If you don’t start getting here at six, then I’ll be happy to drag you out at four.”

He leans back, stalking back towards the big spider, as he webs himself up to the top. You let out a sigh, turning to your desk and swivel chair.

;;

After an hour or so of working, and going over the mission scheduled in a few hours, you feel a breath by your neck. With wide eyes you spin around to see Miguel staring down at you.

When he meets your gaze, you’re placing your hand over your heart. “Can you not scare me like that?” You mutter out.

He leans forward…and forward… and forward, until his large hands are caging you in by resting them on the chair’s armrests. “Scare?” He almost whispers in question to himself.

You’re utterly frozen as his breath tickles your nose and cheeks, which you are sure to be an embarrassing red by now.

“O’hara?” You slowly question, it comes out quieter than you had intended.

His eyes stay focused on your own, as your pulse beats rapidly in your chest. Stop it— you want to say. But you’re not sure what ‘it’ is exactly.

“…did you need something?” It’s the only thing you can think to say.

“What do you mean by scare?” He asks.

You lightly shift in your chair, unsure what to do in this situation. “Um…I just mean that you’re…you are kinda scary, O’hara.” You force a chuckle, trying to ease tension you are sure is the annoyance radiating off of him.

“Is it the fangs?” He asks, his eyes strangely showing genuine interest—or what you think to be genuine.

“Kind of?” You say more so as a question. “But also how you never, well…smile.”

“Why should I smile at people I don’t want to smile at?” He asks, his eyes finally dropping away from the entrapment of your own, but to a much worser place.

You self consciously lick your lips, feeling your nerves turning them dry. His gaze doesn’t shift from your mouth for an abnormally long time.

“O’hara.”

His brows then begin to furrow, his eyes finally leaving your lips, making you unintentionally sigh.

“Why do you refer to me by my last name?”

“What does ‘chaparrita’ mean?” You counter.

He narrows his eyes, leaning away from you and back to his full height. “You ready for your lesson?” He suddenly asks, grabbing a swivel chair and leaning back.

You stare at him for a moment. So that was what he was supposed to ask this whole time? “Okay, if you tell me—“

“No.” He says monotonously. “Ahora deja de hacer preguntas y siéntate y escucha.” (Now stop asking questions and sit and listen.)

You didn’t understand what he just said but you can understand his tone, so you readjust yourself on your chair and stay silent.

“Now…what do you say when you want help?” Miguel inquires, his tone now almost babying.

You narrow your eyes, but answer anyway. “¿Me puede ayudar, por favor?”

“Mm.” He hums, letting his gaze drop. “Bien.”

Miguel notices the slight curve of your lips at his praise. He shifts in his seat. “I hope you know what that means.”

Your small smile falls, before a fake one replaces it. “Yes, O’hara, I do know what that one means.”

“You should loose the attitude, chaparrita. Si es que quieres mi ayuda” (If you want my help, that is.) He says, running his tongue along one of his fangs.

“I understood “my help”.” You say. “And the one with the attitude here is you.”

“How so?”

You raise your brows. “Do I need to answer that? I thought you were observant?” Okay, now you were just pushing his buttons for fun. He seemed to get riled up so easily.

A scowl forms on his face. “Si no fueras tan pinche bonita, creo que me gustaría verte arañada” (If you weren’t so annoyingly pretty, I think I’d like to see you clawed up.) He mutters under his breath, his gaze slightly venomous.

“¿Cómo estás?” Miguel says. “Repeat it.”

“¿Cómo estás?” You repeat.

“That means “how are you?”. And what could you reply with?” He inquires.

“Bien.” You answer.

“Mejor.”

“‘Better’?” You say with a scoff. “I feel like I should get a bit more credit…Spanish is hard.”

“First of all—it’s not.” Miguel states. “Second…you know what ‘mejor’ means?”

“It was one of the words I learnt on my phone.” You shrug.

“Any other words I should I know about?” He sounds annoyed, and you can’t fathom why.

“You’re annoyed at that? To be honest I thought you’d be grateful.”

He doesn’t say anything. Mainly because he can’t say the first reason that popped into his head. He wanted you to learn Spanish—all of it—from him, and only him. He also can’t tell you because he doesn’t know why he feels that way. It was stupid, feeling resentful to a phone, utterly stupid, but Miguel can’t ignore the nagging feeling in his stomach.

—present—

“Shut up!” You exclaim, massaging your temples.

There’s finally silence on the other end.

“The invisible monster is moving your way, on the left wall. You’ll be able to spot a slight glimmering shimmer over him. If you look close enough.”

You finally see the spider variants pick up into action, spotting the monster and beginning to attack.

Miguel watched from afar, leant by the open door to the main tech room, arms crossed as he watched you lean back in annoyance. When you were mad your eyes would hood over, narrowing to show only half of your pupils.

You would aways grow hot, occasionally fanning yourself as you unbuttoned the first button of your shirt. And Miguel would always stare, his chest picking up to a quicker beat. But the scowl would be set, Miguel hating the way he reacted. He shouldn’t be reacting at all. He felt pathetic, as he tried to look away.

Every time he’d fail, his gaze only shifting further down your body. Your legs were yet again…spread. An obviously comfortable position for you, but certainly not Miguel.

He’s embarrassed to admit—not that he’s ever actually—that he’s fantasised about being close to your spread legs, his hands being able to spread them further. You were a reactive girl, very hyper aware for a human. He hoped you’d stay the same when he’d touch you.

Your chest heaving, your mouth opening, as goosebumps littered your skin. Skin he’d be able to see a lot more of.

And to all these fantasies he would hate himself, and you. Sure, he was projecting. But he’d rather project anger then any of his hidden thoughts.

“Is it my turn now?” He asks, making you spin in your chair to face the exit and Miguel.

You had finally taken out your headpiece, the mission clearly completed. The spider-men would get back soon. A look of confusion flashed across your features before realisation hits. ‘His turn’. His side of the deal.

You stand, straightening your slightly crumpled shirt—you had been fisting the material in your annoyed state. Miguel ignores the thoughts of instead a crumpled sheet. Your fists clenching around, preferably, his—no. Not preferably his. He clears his head, biting his inside cheek, the metallic taste of blood now tangible.

“Follow me.” He turns, expecting you to do so.

And you do, walking past all the different spider variants in an effort to stay at Miguel’s heels.

Through the journey up the stairs, Miguel—who doesn’t know why he’s walking with you—has been having thoughts. Very…interesting thoughts. Some seeming very similar to those of ‘finding you annoyed kinda hot’ type of thoughts. It also fell back to the thoughts swirling in his head when he was looking at your lips.

He hadn’t meant to do that, his body seeming to have had a mind of its own when he leant over, caging you in.

He’s annoyed to admit—to himself—that he had wanted to kiss you. See what it felt like. Maybe he’d hate it and his strange, annoying crush on you would go.

He’s soon stopped by his room, finally glancing at you, to see that you look confused. “I thought I was doing what you asked…or whatever.” You say, slowing your breathing.

“You are.” He opens his door, walking in.

You watch him, brows still furrowed. You stay rooted to the hallway floor. “In your room?” You look around like you’ve done something terrible, and you’re gonna get caught.

“Maybe you aren’t as committed as you claim to be.”

Your eyes narrow at his blatancy. You edge closer to his cracked open door, him now fully inside. You take a deep breath before pushing it further open, then quickly shutting it behind you.

“You know, I probably shouldn’t be in here.” You mutter, staying pressed to the door, as you took in the large looking bed, messed up from his sleep, along with a window, and plain walls. There wasn’t much character and you could tell that that was very intentional.

You then shift your gaze to Miguel who had found himself a seat, relaxing back into it as he clicked his jaw. He finally met your gaze, and in the dim-ish lighting his hair looked messier, his hand most likely having ran through it.

“So…” you drift off, not meaning to come across so awkward.

He tilted his head to the side, silently asking you to come to him, as his legs spread a fraction. You ignored the want to hitch your breath, gulping it down instead.

You stare at him, not moving.

He raised a brow. “You look worried.”

“I’m not worried…just…confused.” You again force a chuckle, a forming coping mechanism around Miguel.

“I think my direction was pretty obvious. I did say it in English.” He again made himself out to be all superior.

You sigh. “I heard you. I’m just confused as to why you asked that.”

“What—did you think I asked you in here so that you’d stay plastered to my door, chaparrita?” He asked sarcastically.

You wet your lips. “Why did you ask me in here?”

“I want a massage.” He says it just so…simply.

You blink, maybe one time too many. “What?”

“A massage, y/l/n.” He says, lowering his head slightly, looking up at you through his lashes.

“Why?” You haven’t moved from the door, so, Miguel swiftly shoots a web out to attach to your shirt, yanking you forward.

You gasp, nearly tripping over your feet, as you get pulled towards him. Miguel stabilises you with a hand to your stomach, making you come to a stop in front of him. “What the hell?” You stare at him, your chest heaving in shock.

You rip the web from your shirt, quickly brushing it off. “You gave Gwen one. I heard you were good. That’s all.” Miguel says.

Your brows furrowed. “Gwen?” Then you remember. “Oh, well that’s because she just got back from a really hard mission…she was sore and I…dunno, I was bored.”

“And you don’t think I am? Sore, I mean. You do realise I take care of the multi—“

“The multiverse, yes. I haven’t forgotten. I’m just a little shocked, is all.”

“You can say no.”

You sigh. “If I want to lose my job.” You mutter, walking around him. Miguel twists his head to follow you slightly, until you stood out of his gaze, directly behind him. You pause, before gingerly placing your hands on his shoulders. Jeez, he was broad.

You closed your eyes, taking a breath. To be honest you thought his requests would be hardcore, asking you to practically run around ramped. But instead here you were alone in his room giving him a massage.

You began to add pressure. Working your fingers into the instant knots you felt.

Miguel’s eyes involuntarily rolled closed, as he accidentally leaned more into your touch. You don’t seem to notice the shift as you continue massaging by his neck and along his shoulder, veering a slightly onto the top of his back.

“I forgot to ask: where did you want the massage? I just assumed the shoulders.”

“Mm?” Miguel hums in question, sounding far away, a small heavy breath leaving his lips after.

“O’hara?” You ask, stopping your hands’ movements.

A small growl of disapproval fell from Miguel’s lips involuntarily. “Just—“ he takes a breath. “What you were doing is fine.”

You place your hands back where they were, making Miguel relax back into your fingers. You were good—Miguel thought to himself. He can’t remember the last time he released so much tension.

You lean down to Miguel’s ear, your tickling breath making him gulp. “Is there a time requirement? Because I had plans tonight.”

Miguel’s brows furrowed. “Plans? What plans?” He didn’t mean to sound so disappointed and borderline desperate, but he’s thankful you barely heard his tone as your attitude didn’t shift.

You worked your fingers closer to his chest, doing your normal routine. Your grandmother was a masseuse, and of course she had to give you some tips. It was fun being able to practice on Gwen, but with Miguel you felt nervous every time you would press down hard on a knot.

But his responses seemed to be good, considering all the quiet groans and heavy breaths.

“I made plans with spider-man—“

“That’s very descriptive.” Miguel comments, his head slightly rolling to the side.

You scoff, your fingers moving to the base of his neck, where no spider suit material could intervene. The pads of your fingers rubbing his bare skin. Miguel noticed the difference a lot quicker than you did, sounds and words of approval he really didn’t want you to hear threatening to spill.

“Dios, ¿por qué tus manos tienen que sentirse tan bien?” (God, why do your hands have to feel so good?) He muttered under his breath, not really meaning for you to catch a word, but of course you pick up ‘bien’.

“Good?” You asked. “Well, then you should put in a good word for me.” You chuckle. “Maybe I should start a small business and massage all the spider-men and woman. I think I’d do well—“

“No.” Miguel says instantly, still sounding slightly breathless. “If you want to prove yourself you can’t get distracted.” Of course that’s the reason he dislikes the idea. Definitely not because he doesn’t want your hands making others feel like this…definitely not.

“Don’t worry, it was just a hypothetical.” You say, going back to his shoulders. “Now, I hope that’s okay. Because I do need to go.” You bring your hands away, and it takes everything in Miguel not to spin around in the chair, grab your hands and ask you to massage somewhere else.

The tense knots in his shoulders were gone, his neck felt light, and he wanted to feel your fingers run along his abs. This was bad. Why was the lighting so dim, why was your scent so strong?

He spun around in his chair, meeting your gaze. “You didn’t fully answer me before. Who are meeting?”

“It was gonna be spider-man, the one with the cartoonish attitude, and now it’s just Hobie. I dunno. something about an important—“

“Hobie?” Miguel interrupts. He displayed indifference, though inside he was burning.

A weird tension began to fill the room. “Yeah, so I’ll just…go.” You say quickly passing him and opening the door, before Miguel had the (bad) mind to stop you.

You rushed out into the hallway which instantly felt lighter, letting you breathe.

You head to the main communion area, paths leading everywhere along the walls to along the roof, making it easy for a spider person to navigate but not someone who can’t stick to walls.

So you stay on the simple path, skimming through talking suited spiders until someone called your name. You spin catching sight of Peter, Mayday in his grasp.

“Hey.” You smile.

“Hey. Sorry, Hobie wanted me to tell you that he can’t catch up for that song session thing, something about getting called in for business.” Peter said, his hands going everywhere as Mayday tried to escape over the edge.

“Also picture that in an over pronounced British accent.” He gave you a thumbs up to which you chuckled.

“No worries, thanks Peter.”

“Mayday!” He suddenly yelled, to which you pointed to the left, displaying her climbing onto a spider-man’s back.

Peter rushes off. And you sigh, thinking you hurried for no reason. Though you are grateful that you could use that as an excuse to get out of Miguel’s room.

As you head to your own, you begin to wonder what this last minute mission could be about and why Hobie had been called in now. Usually the only person who calls people in, especially this last minute would be Miguel.

I guess crime never sleeps—you think to yourself—or something like that.

ahhh here’s part three!—I hope this one wasn’t too boring or not what you expected x part four is gonna be more SeXuAl, I promise

I actually don’t know how many parts I should do, coz atm it’s feeling like a slow burn, but I don’t want to drag you guys along a long ass fic so I’m not sure.

taglist: @dangerousdreamkitty @ale-maral @inosukesweirdwife @flooftoof @cynicallyaestetic @silassinclair @mariiyoushi @ilovedilfjake @toastlover21 @wlellsl @k1rbb @bitchotine @guacam011y @blnk338 @wolfiepirate @kurxxmi @corpsebridenightamare @ohantonia @yunonaneko @irenered-20 @z3r0art @sunflowercandie @perilous-pasta @gloriouskryptonitecrown @whyamistillhere78 @ritzzzsblog @mm1sta @tealcoloured-murder @aweebsimp101 @livelaughlaurv @s0dium @roguepancake @sunshiines-stuff @internal-soundtrack @oscarisdaddy69 @clairacassidy @captainquake42 @nanaloverz @ilyless @sindulgent666 @shine101 @thebadasssass @hibeejibees @nirishin @ily2lia @lillunna @cinnamoncattie @futuristicpandakid @maroonobserver @thatsopanu @edgyficuselastica @kittekat420 @stararctic @maxi-ride @renn-pumkin-head @scaraza @justanotherkpopstanlol @fauxizs @cloudsandrenoswife @ilmovor @larissa-lolll @elliemm @httpkiyoomi @j2warren @arquiiva @ilovemiguelohara @a-monster-can-filled-with-cum @fandom-gal44 @elwyn7 @albiebright @pix-stuff

#2 taglist

[cxrdycxps]

And They Were Room Mates • Abby Anderson

☢️ Owen and Mel bashing • pwp basically • reader really enjoys giving Abby head • pussy worship babyyyy • swearing • talking about masturbation ☢️

Main Masterlist • Abby Anderson Masterlist

Your bedroom door opened and Abby slammed it shut behind her, stalking forward to collapse on your bed. You pushed your headphones off and put the lid back on your highlighter. “Hi Abby, how are you? Would you like to come into my room, Abby? Make yourself comfortable.”

Abby grabbed your soft pillow and shoved her face into it and screamed. You stared at her in horror when she took a deep breath and screamed again. “Should I call a priest? Do we need an excorcist?”

“You need to stop humping your fucking pillows. I can smell your cunt on this one.” You stared at Abby when she tossed your pillow away and turned over to stare at your ceiling.

“Firstly, it’s my pillow. I’ll do what I want with it. Secondly, how the fuck do you know what any part of me smells like?” You snapped at her, mortified by her comments. “Get the fuck out and scream into your own pillows.”

“Mel is pregnant.” You stared at her, still off balance from her earlier comments. You weren’t sure why her best friend being pregnant was such a scream worthy event. Or why it resulted in her coming in to bully you in your own room. “It’s Owen’s.”

“Oh fuck.” You couldn’t stop yourself. You covered your mouth once the words were out but Abby was already staring at you, nodding her head.

“Yeah. He fucked her on our three day break.” Abby laughed bitterly and you stood from your desk to sit on the edge of the bed, taking one of her large hands in yours to console her. “Well, he fucked her for our three day break. Then decided he missed me.”

“To be fair, Mel’s a whiny bitch. I wouldn’t have chosen her over you either.” You told her honestly and she rolled her eyes at you. “And it may be personal opinion but you are hotter than her.”

You lived with Abby in shared accommodation just off campus. She had lived here with her friend Manny last year but he had graduated so she had posted the listing. You had been desperate to escape on campus accommodation and jumped at the chance to live in an apartment with your own bedroom and bathroom.

Neither of you crossed paths often, usually coming and going at complete opposite times. She woke early to go to the gym, you worked late at a bar down town. You both had classes all day and she spent a lot of time in Owen’s apartment.

You had moments like this. Pockets of overlap where you found time to get to know each other. You had met her friend group in passing, she had met yours. You had met Owen, she had accidentally met one or two of the girls you had hooked up with in the past while they left the next morning.

You had accidentally propositioned her while drunk once. It was a long running joke at this point.

“You only want me for my body.” Abby sighed and you shrugged, laying back beside her so you were both staring at the ceiling. “My best fucking friend.”

“You should probably get a new one of those. I’ll be your best friend. I’m pretty cool.” You assured her, nudging her shoulder with yours. “I can be your best fucking friend, too. You just have to take me up on my offer.”

“What do you- oh. Best fucking friend. I get it. Smart.” She huffed a dry laugh while you giggled at yourself. “They barely ever even talked!”

“Maybe for good reason?” You asked and she turned so she was looking at you. You copied her and your faces were only a couple of inches apart. “Maybe he wanted to dick her down since day one.”

“You’re not helping.” Abby turned back to stare at the ceiling and you shrugged.

“If I’m being honest, I get why you’re mad or whatever. I just think it’s a waste of your energy. Mel has the personality of the contents of the bottom of the sink after the dishes have been done. Owen micromanaged you and you let him. What are you actually loosing?” Abby probably didn’t want you to be honest but you didn’t typically have another session. “The sex didn’t even sound good.”

“Better than your pillow.” Abby quipped back and you laughed.

“My pillow made me cum every time. Can you say the same for Owen?” You asked her and she grunted in answer which made you laugh, the bed shaking with your movements. “What were you actually getting out of the relationship?”

“He was there for me. When my dad died.” Abby told you and you sighed heavily, clasping her hand in yours. “He got me through that.”

“So he’s not a complete waste of space. People outgrow each other, Abs.” You told her quietly. “You outgrew him a long time ago.”

“I’ve been with him since I was fourteen. How do I let go of seven years?” She asked with a sigh and you shrugged. In truth, you had no clue.

“Go out and fuck someone else. Get a new hobby? Maybe egg his house. Or her house. Or just egg something.” Abby laughed wetly. You didn’t look at her, not closely. She needed a moment so you let her have it. “You can borrow my pillow?”

///

“Got someone looking for you out front.” You were stood in the kitchen, attempting to eat quickly while chatting to the grouchy head chef. Joel didn’t really say much but you knew he had a soft spot for you. He had even tried to set you up with his daughter once. He always made sure to set something aside for you to eat.

“Tell ‘em to fuck off.” You snapped and Joel coughed to disguise his laugh. Dina, Joel’s daughter’s current girlfriend, threw her hands up.

“Do I look like a fucking messenger girl? Get back out on the bar anyway, Jesse is drowning out there.” Jesse, Dina’s ex boyfriend, worked the bar with you most nights. He was a shit bartended though and you ended up doing double the work.

“You ever think about how incestuous this restaurant staff is?” You asked Joel, shoving the last few fries into your mouth. Tess, the line cook, laughed at you and you narrowed your eyes at her. “I know you two have been fucking in the store room.”

Joel barked your name when Tess ducked her head and you skipped out of the kitchen, returning to the bar to find it was three deep. You sighed, tying your apron and pasting on a smile.

“You should fucking quit.” You elbowed Jesse who only shrugged at you, pouring drinks. You waved at people to start shouting orders at you, checking ID along with starting tabs.

By the time the rush had moved off you found your caller sitting at the end of the bar. Abby was nursing a beer, two shots of tequila next to her with all the fixings.

“What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” You asked her with a grin. She looked up from her phone and blinked at you before gesturing to the shots. “For me?”

“It’s sad doing them alone and I need some courage.” She told you honestly and you tilted your head. “Time to get back out there, right?”

It had been two months since she came to your room to scream and you had been worried about how well she was handling everything. This was a good sign.

You licked the back of your hand and sprinkled the salt over the wet patch. Abby copied you and you held up your shot to her. “To you getting your pussy ate.”

She didn’t repeat the cheers, rolling her eyes. She did drink though and you took that as a good sign while sucking on the wedge of lime. You looked up when your name was called and found Maria, the manager on tonight, glaring at you. “She bought it for me. It’s good customer service, Maria.”

“Get back to work.” You gestured around to remind her that you were in fact behind the bar, no current customers in sight. She narrowed her eyes at you and moved off to complain about you to the servers. Dina would agree cause she didn’t like that you had fucked Ellie, Joel’s daughter, before she had. She also was Maria’s favorite because she was Ellie’s aunt.

The whole system made your head hurt and you swigged from Abby’s beer to chase the flavor of the tequila on your tongue. “Don’t fucking backwash.”

“Come on, Abby. Admit it, you wanna swap bodily fluids with me.” You leaned forward on the bar and her eyes dipped to look down your blouse. You always left it one button too low to increase tips. “Abby Anderson, are you looking at my tits?”

“You know I am. Hard not to when they’re as good as in my face.” Abby sighed and you grinned, delighted with her honesty. “Don’t worry, I’ll tip well.”

“You know what, Anderson?” You asked her. You looked up when a customer shouted an order at you and you took the lid off the beer sliding it over to him. “If you strike out tonight, I’ll eat your pussy myself.”

You left Abby to consider your words when the next wave began and you dove into the fray to serve them. When you looked back she was gone, a signed receipt and a tip tucked under her beer mat. You laughed and cleared her bottle and pocketed the tip.

///

When you got back to the apartment you were surprised to find Abby still up, sitting on the sofa. With the television playing. You kicked off your shoes and swung by the kitchen, grabbing yourself and her a beer.

“You cleared out early.” You remarked, tossing yourself down next to her on the cushions. You held both beers out and scrunched your eyes shut when she opened them with her teeth. “Strike out?”

“Got a better offer.” She answered and you let your head fall to the side so you could look at her. “Why would I hang around when you already made me a promise?”

“What promise was that, Abby?” You asked her with a sly smile. Abby rarely swore unless she was really worked up and you wanted to set her on edge.

“You know what you promised.” Abby huffed, cheeks pink. You stared at her and brought your bottle up to your lips, taking a long drink. You didn’t speak and she began to fidget. “If you weren’t serious then-”

“Abby, I’ve wanted a taste of you since like thirty seconds after signing the lease.” You laughed and she turned a darker red in her cheeks. The color was creeping down towards her neck. “I’ve literally dreamed about having your thighs either side of my head.”

“You’re such a fucking-” Abby shook her head but you only grinned at her frustration. She hadn’t been with women before, you knew that much. She had realized she was interested in them when she started college but she had loved Owen.

You rolled your eyes and handed her your bottle. You stretched your arms up in the air and shook off the exhaustion of your late shift before standing and moving kneel between Abby’s spread legs. “Time to let me see what’s under these cargos and by the way, if it looks like I’m suffocating? Leave me there. Death by your pussy is such a good way to go.”

Abby was laughing now, too used to your humor to be embarrassed anymore. You helped unbutton her trousers and pull them down. You paused and swallowed, wondering why the simple boxers under her cargos made your own pussy pulse in arousal. Why did her thick thighs look so much hotter than any other woman you had ever been with?

“Later, once you recover from the orgasm I’m about to give you, I’m riding your thigh. I don’t even care if this is a one time thing. I need to experience that.” You babbled, pulling on the hem of her boxer shorts and finally exposing her to you.

“Oh fuck.” You breathed, closing your eyes for a moment. Abby Anderson ticked all your boxes but right now it was like she had read every deep thought you’d ever had. You were the first to advocate for people grooming themselves however they deemed fit but the patch of coarse curls that you had just uncovered made you groan.

Abby had a fat cunt, something you could bury your face in. You spread her thighs with your palms and leaned forward, licking up her slit to find her clit. It was swollen with arousal but when you pulled back you could see the raw abuse on it. “You’ve been playing with yourself.”

Abby groaned, her head back against the couch. Some of her embarrassment was returning as she arched her hips upwards to you. “Tell me you were playing with your clit while thinking of me.”

“Obviously,” Abby grunted and you rewarded her with a firm suck to the sensitive bundle of nerve endings. She moaned and you were proud to note you’d never heard that noise coming from her room when her and Owen had fucked. Quiet as they had tried to be. “Had to take the edge off after watching you in the bar. You’re so fucking competent, bouncing around with your tits out.”

You didn’t speak, choosing instead to spit against her clit and listened to her moans to let you know what she enjoyed. You pulled her thighs and she shuffled out to the edge of the sofa, her fingers grasping at your hair.

It was when you were licking into her, your nose against her clit, that the door opened. The pair of you froze, directly in the sight line of Owen who stood at the door. “Abby, what the fuck?”

It seemed like a private conversation so you looked away, nudging your nose against her clit again. She moaned, her head back against the sofa. “Leave the key.”

You hummed against her hole and her fingers tightened against you. Owen tossed the keys on the entry way table and retreated. You pulled away to call out to him. “If you wait a minute or so you can hear what it sounds like when Abby actually cums.” He slammed the door and Abby’s hoarse laugh was cut off when you returned your attention to her clit.

You used your tongue to push back the clitoral hood and pay special attention to the most sensitive part of her. The almost red skin contracted when you licked at it firmly and Abby lost all pretenses, an actual scream falling from her mouth when she came.

You kind of hoped he was still listening.

[belokhvostikova]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐎𝐮𝐭

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | Your secret fling with Eddie Munson hadn't gone entirely under wraps, particularly to the know-it-all, Dustin Henderson. With the help of Robin and Steve, the three conspire to reveal the truth, resulting in two of the most awkward people going on a date together...

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing, slight crying, alcohol consumption, awkwardness, insecurities, closeted sexuality, implied coming out, secret relationship, and some explicit sexual content: fondling, mention of porn, mention of oral, and unprotected vaginal sex (fairly minor, not the focal point).

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | This piece has literally been sitting in my Google Docs since June 26th, because when rewatching Friends, I though it would be a cute idea for a fic, so you'll see a lot of lines and parallels from the episode (season 5, episode 14). It's devastatingly unfortunate Matthew Perry passed when I was finishing this up. So, in memory of him and a toast to friendship, here is this fic. Be safe, appreciate life, and enjoy <3 I love you all.

𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬, 𝐃𝐨 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭.

“Did you guys see that?!” A pointed finger of accusation was targeted against Eddie Munson, completely oblivious to his knowledge. 

Steve Harrington had grimaced at the mush that was once a solid cheeseburger residing inside the slobbery mouth of Dustin Henderson, as the kid spoke with such urgency, clearly unperturbed by his lack of food etiquette and social decorum. But such skills could not be expected much from Dustin Henderson. That is unless, of course, an actual adult of authority had been in the presence, to which a gummy smile was expected to assuage whatever insulting comment about the need for manners that “The Hair” would proffer in disgust. 

It was the second Saturday in a row that Steve’s been bombarded by the abuse of the children to let his residence be used for a pool party. He doesn’t understand how exactly he lost the backbone to say no to four teenagers, but the phenomenon had manifested into reality, and at the very least, a compromise was made for the young adults—of whatever weird mesh of a friend group this was between older teens, younger teens, crossover shebang—to tag along for a hot afternoon of relaxation.

“Yeah, Eddie’s hair totally looks like a wet mop.” Max Mayfield snickered between her sips of a twisty-straw-in-lemonade action. In truth, seeing lushes locks of black stick to his face and neck was quite amusing, especially when made worse as the metalhead re-calibrated like a dog, shaking his hair as a means of getting rid of the chlorine water that weighed down his head. One that could always get a good chuckle out of anyone. 

“No! Not that! That!” The ghost trail that was of Eddie Munson walking inside the Harrington villa, as pointed to by Dustin as a means of evidence, did little to provide any context of support to whatever it was he was avowing about this time. In many instances, those close to him knew to just let his diatribes continue without interference. The kid’s standards were impossibly high; people’s mistakes of simple wrongdoings were always criticized by his superiority. ‘“Oh, I’m just gonna head to the bathroom real quick.’” Dustin mimicked, mocking the voice of his Dungeon Master with dramatic gestures of flailing arms. A testament surely to get his character killed in next week’s campaign, should he have been caught by the man. 

“Yeah, Dustin, that’s kinda, like, a natural occurrence in life.” Mike Wheeler deadpanned with a patronizing voice to annoy, as it’d been known to exasperate his friend. It’d even gained a couple laughs from the lounging bodies strewn about in the breadth of the gardened backyard. 

Lucas Sinclair had jumped at the opportunity to prod further, barking a deafening cackle. “Yeah, remember that bomb you dropped after the school’s attempt to serve enchiladas?” He slapped his knee with joy. “You had the janitor running from the stalls!”

That one really got a good laugh out of everyone. But before Max could even venture at an attempt to cater for further details, Dustin struck on offense to defend his honor from the sharings of his intimate privacy, definitively emphasized with an agitated tone of vexation. “No, no! You pinky swore that you’d never speak of it! Do I need to tell everyone what Erica found under your bed?!” Old reliable; blackmail, the bargain of a lifetime.

“The hell is under your bed, man?” Steve pondered, flipping a seared patty with a slab of American cheese ready to go. If it was anything like what was under his bed, he’d surely want no one to know.

“Nothing!”

“What I thought.” Dustin muttered with a glare, as Lucas shrunk in his chair to evade any potential threats of further questions that lay on the tips of his friends’ nosy tongues. “But again, that is not what I am talking about.”  

Always the civil one out of the Wheeler clan, Nancy reassuringly stepped up to support her brother’s friend in need, settling everyone down. “We’re sorry, Dustin, go ahead.” It was to be expected she’d gain a heartfelt thank you from Dustin Henderson, himself, once the debacle simmered and the turbulence had passed. Nancy Wheeler always did have a special place in the kid’s big heart, particularly after the caring gesture of the 1984 Hawkins Middle’s Snow Ball Dance. 

“How can you all be so blind?!” Dustin seethed. “You’re telling me none of you find it even a little suspicious that Eddie just so happened to go to the 'bathroom' right after Y/N’s excuse of wanting to 'change,' like, hello?!” He huffed. “They’re totally screwing!”

Dustin Henderson felt devastatingly vanquished when a unanimous vote of disbelieving what’s hurtled his way with no mercy. He felt useless- undermined. Like the bag of Fritos left behind when children would rather fight over Doritos or Sour Cream n’ Onion Lays, rather than appreciate the artistry of a simple corn chip, left alone and forgotten until a last resort when moms took too long to make dinner; never to be cherished in the dark corner of the bulk size box of Frito-Lays. Of course, they wouldn’t believe him. They didn’t witness what he had to tragically witness. He heard it so vividly. So hauntingly vivid. Sometimes, it kept the poor boy up at night. Last week- last Friday- Hellfire’s Friday, such an exhilarating night now befouled by the auditory version of what he learned in the ninth grade compulsory course of sexual education. 

How naive of him to believe your actions stemmed from the kindness of your heart; offering your chauffeuring abilities to pick up the freshman after their campaigns, sauntering inside with a sickeningly sweet smile to pair with your tender greetings, and always wanting to lend a helping hand to the Dungeon Master, because “it just seems like so much to clean.” Puh-lease! The signs had been flashing in his face. The ulterior motives screaming in his ear. What sane person deliberately chooses to waste their time picking up three boys revved up with excitement and sweat after the thrills of Dungeons and Dragon? Jesus, shit, it was Friday night, don’t you have any plans?! Yeah, plans to stick your tongue down their Dungeon Master’s throat. Tainting the sanctity of Hellfire with your debauchery. 

Dustin Henderson had forgotten his dice. Sometimes, he wishes he would have just let the damn things go. 

“God, baby, a quickie- let’s just do it right here real quick.” Eddie’s begging voice vibrated behind the closed door of the drama department, seeping through the open cracks beneath the door, all for Dustin’s ears to hear. 

And he tried to give him the benefit of the doubt- the kid really did. Pet names were far from unusual by use of Eddie Munson. The one instance the Byers dropped back into Hawkins during Spring Break, it was no doubt Will the Wise had to get a taste of the new man running the show, and when Eddie had given Byers the innocent compliment of being such a sweetheart, the kid blushed into oblivion, stuttering a thank you in return. Hell, not to mention the infamous “big boy” that followed Steve Harrington around wherever the man took on motherly duties. So, Dustin brushed it off. But the moment had quickly transpired into something cringe worthy to the fourteen-year-old who didn’t know better. It should have been his cue to run, but the fiery design of his dice cost him six bucks of his chores earning, and they weren’t about to be discarded, as if the sweat of his forehead meant nothing from an afternoon of bending over the mop bucket to clean the kitchen floors. 

There are moments at night when he speculates if this is the doings of the heavenly man above that his beloved, Suzie Bingham, always mentioned; punishing Dustin in consequence of eavesdropping on a private matter that surely was not intended to be heard. But can you really call it eavesdropping when you were merely trying to retrieve your dice? No! You can’t!

“They’re already waiting for me in the car.” You whined against his lips. The figurine that was poking your hip was the last thing accounted for in your mind, as Eddie had showcased you onto the wooden table of the prop room. Lips smeared against yours, his hand had squeezed a chunk of your meaty thigh, bringing you forth to keep you in close company. “We can’t.” Can’t what, huh? Find the dignity to do it outside of school grounds?! Freaks!

“Little shits.” Dustin had appallingly gasped at the insult, feeling the stabbing wound of betrayal hit him in the chest as you laughed along, hand clutched over his heart to appease the pain of such affliction. The dramatics. “Come to my place after.” Eddie delicately kissed loving pecks to your lips. “That way,” his finger trailed up your thigh, “we can have our alone time, and I can finally get a taste of that pretty pu-”

Dustin Henderson knew to run away at that point. Safe to say, the kid never got his dice back.

“Are you insane?!” Motherly hand on the hip, Dustin didn’t appreciate Steve’s disciplinary tone of voice, sounding too much like his mother, Ms. Claudia Henderson, for his liking, as everyone agreed with Harrington’s proclaimed delusion against the boy. “Munson doesn’t have the skills to screw, let alone someone as hot as her.” He chuckled in disbelief.

Oh, boy, was he wrong.

“Mm, j-just like that, uh!” Your pelvis pummeled into the sink, tainting the precisely picked pristine porcelain by Mrs. Harrington, herself, as Eddie rutted his hips into the dampness that was your bikini bottoms to chase a release that was on the brink of snapping.

It was your fault he claimed; prancing in a top and bottom that left little to the imagination. Accusations of your outfit being chosen to taunt him were thrown your way, and your faux innocence only cemented it further. “Fuck- fucking take it—ugh, s-shit—take this fucking cock!” How could this ever be seen as a punishment when your boyfriend was lighting your body on fire with the ecstasy of abusing your g-spot?

Perhaps having sex in the bathroom of your mutual friend was far from the ethical rules of friendship, but the act of secrecy had bred a burning excitement that neither of you could contain. And, given the fact that four weeks ago, Steve had poked fun at Eddie’s singleness—not that Steve had any room to joke, though, at least, “The King” was relishing in the funness of meaningless hookups, something Eddie surely didn’t partake in, he lovingly had you—so seeking revenge in fucking his hot girlfriend in his friend’s bathroom had stirred something menacing in Eddie’s head to truly not give a single care in what he was doing was wrong. 

“Yes! Yes! I’m gonna cum, fuck!” Fingers tightening on the edge of the sink, your heart soared watching the reflection of Eddie’s mouth panting with want, as he fucked your pussy, ready to release his load deep inside. His hands had snaked to grab handfuls of your bouncing tits, groaning as he felt your nipples poke through the coldness of your wet bikini top.  

His hips harshly snapped against your rippling ass. “Cum all over my cock- shit! C’mon, pretty girl, fucking soak me- take all o’ me!” It barely felt as though he was pulling out, merely drilling in deeper and deeper. “I’m gonna cum- fuck, fuck, fuck, fu-”

“They are totally screwing!” The curls of Dustin Henderson’s head were on the verge of being ripped out in frustration; all that work he so earnestly dedicated night and day to maintain the silky bounce was about to be all for nothing. “They are! I heard them!”

Wrong choice of words. “You were listening to them screw?!” Robin gagged, triggering an onslaught of ew’s and perv’s- well, really, Max Mayfield had been the only one calling her friend a perv, doing it in the relaxation of her lounging chair, teasing behind her newly gifted heart-shaped sunglasses. 

“No! No!” Dustin shouted in clarification. “I wasn’t listening! I heard them talking about it!” He agonized. “They’ve been doing it for at least a week! Behind our backs!”

“Oh!” Max ventured. “Let’s bet, I say they’ve been engaged for four months, and are pregnant!” She heckled, now clearly just taking the piss out of him. 

“Has the water gone from your ears to your brain?” Robin laughed in his face. Surely the kid was mistaken, right? Aside from her personal himbo—Steve hated the nickname—you and Nancy Wheeler had become her newfound best friends. You know, a united front against the boys, girl talk, the whole shebang about girl code? Secrets weren’t a thing between your three! Granted, Robin, herself, was harboring a pretty large secret that only her himbo knew of, but that was different! Boys were nothing, she would gladly hear about all her friends’ boy problems, indulging in the drama of long distance or whatever the hell there was to complain about, but girls?! Yeah, that was, uh, that was just something- a topic still unbreached… at least, until she was ready.

“Fine!” The boy heaved, bailing out on defending his stance any further. “You guys don’t wanna believe, that’s just fine.” He snided. “But when they come back, and Y/N hasn’t changed out of her bathing suit, you won’t be laughing now!” Dustin Henderson ended his tirade with an embittered bite to his burger, dramatically dropping into his pool chair. 

They’d all learn soon, and bow down to him. 

So now, everyone waited. Waited for the fateful moment that would either prove Dustin Henderson right or wrong. And unfortunately- for you and Eddie, at least, your steamy escapade on the sink of the Harrington bathroom had left you too dazed and forgetful in the post-orgasmic bliss that was heavy breaths and loving touches of aftercare to keep up with the said excuse of “changing out of wet clothes” that got you alone with Eddie Munson in the first place. So when you marched out, glowing and relaxed—exactly two minutes and thirty-four seconds after Eddie’s “bathroom break” (so thoughtfully executed)—in the same damp bikini that had your secret boyfriend riled up to begin with, everyone gasped. 

“What?” You looked around confused. 

Unbeknownst to you, Dustin Henderson took a cheesy bite of his burger, loudly sipping a carbonated gulp of his cold Coke, ready to snap his fingers for another round of meals for his peasant friends to fetch. 

He was right. 

-

Robin Buckley confirmed it next. 

That Monday to come, Robin was staggering over the words of Dustin Henderson, and trying to piece the evidence presented to understand what was transpiring in your double life. The events after your return from “changing” left you confused by the jarring stares of six pairs of eyes testing you. Nancy, with the softest approach, had questioned you on the lack of new clothes on your body, to which your knight in shining armor—or accomplice—stepped up to save you from the army of prodding friends. “A knot in my hair, yeah, I distracted her to help me get a knot out of my hair.” Sure, Eddie, sure. 

During the uproarious minutes of lunchtime, you’d been ready to get an afternoon break from school to fork through Hawkins High’s poor excuse as to what constitutes consumable food, when the sudden scrutiny from Robin Buckley began. And, my god, was she persistent. 

In the comical marching band she suited, Robin Buckley had rushed her attempt to the first approach. “Hey, Robs. You think I can borrow your notes for Civics, I-”

“So, I hear Jonathan’s coming back from California next week!” Something about rashly eating the served cut peaches seemed to play up to the normal act Robin was going for, but truthfully, it just made you eye her strange behavior weirdly.

“Oh.” You accepted the out-of-nowhere information. Maybe you won’t do so good on Mr. Vortroski’s test on Supreme Court cases as you originally thought. “That’s great for Nance-”

“Isn’t it?!” The enthusiasm she was exerting was truly taking it over the top. But Robin Buckley had a heart for caring, and perhaps the excitement for her friend was really bubbling up today. “Nancy said they’ve been planning, like, a lot of dates, you know, to catch up on lost time?” You casually nodded along. “Single dates, double dates… and then I was thinking, hey!” She perked. “Y/N’s young and good looking! She’s probably seeing someone! So are you, I don’t know, seeing someone? Anyone? Tall, dark hair? Anyone?”

“Uh…” Yeah, maybe the hastiness of Robin’s impetuous nature wasn’t the best route to go with. “No, um, no I’m not seeing anyone.” You gave a tight-lipped smile. “Nance and Jonathan are gonna have to find someone else to double date with- oh, maybe Steve! What’s that girl's name he’s been seeing, Brenda? Beatrice? Actually, you know what, it’ll probably be really awkward to ask your ex-boyfriend on a double date with your current bo-”

“You’re seriously not seeing anyone?!” Robin’s brows furrowed with frustration. You were lying to her face- you were lying straight to your best friend’s face! “Nobody? No one?” You begrudgingly shook your head. “No thing?”

“Robin,” you chuckled, “is there something you want to tell me?” There were lots of things Robin Buckley wanted to tell you. Like, for starters, the newfound revelation that she likes how she looks with mascara, after you left yours on the dresser of her bedroom during your sleepover two weeks ago. She had no plans of returning it back to you, either. Or, possibly the fact that Bridget—the actual name of Steve’s newest lover—stole his Farrah Fawcett hairspray- or the fact that Steve uses Farrah Fawcett hairspray. Maybe the other thing, as in the strange occurrence that happens to her heartbeat whenever Vickie from chemistry happens to be around. Or, the other other thing, like the fact that she spent an obscene amount of minutes staring at cover of “Scissoring with Seduction” starring Roxie Rockett and Viola Diamond, after organizing the adult films section at Family Video- actually, scratch that, she’d never tell a soul about that, not even Steve Harrington. 

“Is there something you want to tell me?” She shot back with fervency. 

“No…?” Your questioning answer had your friend igniting her dramatic flare, slumping in her seat with a defeated huff. Dustin Henderson would surely be owed a duly apology. At this point, you’d like to say this weirded you out, but you lived in Hawkins, Indiana. You’ve seen weirder. 

Evidently not sufficed with your response, your friend sat up onto perched elbows. “Y/N, you know you can tell me anything, right?” A sincere approach. Undoubtedly better. “Like, you don’t have to be afraid to tell me stuff. I won’t judge or anything.” Robin solemnly smiled at you. 

Your tender hand squeezed her arm. “I know.” You beamed. “I hope you know that the same goes for you, Robs. If you ever have anything you need to tell me, I’ll always be here to listen to you. Probably give you way better advice than Stevie.” You both chuckled at the expense of Steve Harrington. Robin Buckley understood the feeling of not being ready for the world to know, because knowing would change the dynamics of life, and having the world suddenly perceive you in a way they never have before was scary. 

Having the world hate you for the tender love you caressed your partner with was terrifying. 

You’d tell her when you were ready, just as she would with you. 

With a nod to her head, she patted your hand. “You know, I asked Steve once on tips to upgrade my look, and he legit told me to do my eyebrows like Pamela Anderson.” 

“The himbo, himself, is too unknowledgeable to know that Miss Anderson is the only one capable of pulling off the blonde bombshell look. Though, I would love to see him with pencil brows and blue eyeshadow.” You both laughed, before you reached over to pinch her chin. “Plus, your beautiful self doesn’t need any changing, Robs. Anyone would be lucky to wake up next to it.”

Yeah, she’d simply tell you when she was ready, just as you would with her.

By three o’clock, Robin Buckley had been worn down by the insufferable compulsion that was Mr. Heizer’s fifth period calculus class. With the last day of school being around the corner, Robin wondered what warranted Heizer’s balding head to be so miserable that he felt the need to subject his students with the abuse of derivatives. Trudging her feet against the pavement of the Hawkins High parking lot, Steve Harrington had came into view, where he brandished himself atop the hood of his car. Not the most irregular of sights, given the systemic routine of drop off and pick-up that had been structured for Monday through Friday, though today, Dustin Henderson had managed to find Steve’s BMW through the array of parked cars, and was found yapping his ear off. 

So sorely critical-looking, Robin couldn’t help but tiredly chuckle. “What’s with the wrinkles, kid?” She approached.

Dustin huffed, letting his arms dramatically drop to his side in desperation. “Steve won’t go along with my plan!”

“What are you even doing here, Dustin, isn’t your mother, like, first in line at the car riders pick-up?” She laughed. 

Steve exasperated. “He waved off his poor mother, like the lunatic he is, just to track me down and tell her I was giving him a ride!” He answered, propelling Dustin to gasp with a snide.

“So we can talk about the plan!” Dustin provoked the Italian—that he probably didn’t actually have—within him, as his loose fist shook in Steve’s vicinity. 

“What plan?” Robin interjected. 

“The plan to expose Y/N and Eddie!” Dustin stressed. 

“Eddie and Y/N are not screwing.” Steve deadpanned. “What happened Saturday was just… some fluke coincidence, not proof to anything, okay? So let it go, Dustin. Just face it, you were wrong.” He chuckled a very much unappreciated chuckle in Dustin’s face. 

“I am not wrong! I know what I heard! How many times do I have to be right on the money for you all to just trust me?!” Neither Steve or Robin appreciated the numerous stares the freshman was gathering from leaving classmates and faculty. 

“Okay, just calm down, alright.” Robin shushed. “You're right-”

“Ha!”

“But I don’t think we should do anything.” Dustin heaved, scowling at Robin as if she just committed sacrilege. 

“Are you crazy? Of course, we should totally do something!” Dustin retorted. “This is big news! Two of our best friends are dating! You know what this means?! I could have parents, Robin, and you know I don’t have a dad, do you really want to be the reason I never have a dad?” A pointed finger targeted her. 

Her hand worked swiftly to smack his accusing finger away. “Eddie is not your dad, Christ, he’s not dating your mom.” She annoyingly sighed.

“Yeah, and also, I’ve known you for way longer. If anyone’s gonna be your dad, it’s gonna be me, not Munson.” Steve exhorted with ire. 

Dustin mockingly laughed. “Please, you and mother have the same hips.” 

Robin Buckley and Dustin Henderson were too engrossed in their conversation to bring any of their attention to Steve Harrington’s insulted gasp. “Look, Dustin, I already tried asking Y/N about it, and she’s just not ready to talk about it.” She explained. “Let’s just drop it until they’re ready to tell us.”

“Okay, but we can help them talk about it.” The kid returned with retaliation. “You know how great it was to see Nancy and Jonathan finally get together?”

“Which came at my expense, by the way.” Steve scoffed. “Don’t know why that brings you such joy.”

“Well, this is Y/N and Eddie, it’s even bigger!” Dustin smiled. “Look, all I’m saying is that a little encouragement never hurt anybody.” Call the boy annoying, he already knew that, but his intentions were coming from good faith. The notion of helping his friends find love- or more so express it, had him bubbling with excitement. “And the only way to get this love story rolling is if we get them to crack.”

Steve groaned. “Meaning?”

“Meaning, we have to make them break first.” Dustin was beginning to get his crazy eyes, something about conspiring a plan had him menacingly smirking his enthusiastic grin. “You know, trick them into telling us.”

Robin sighed, drilling the palm of her hands into her eyes. “Okay, you know what? Do whatever you like, Dustin, but I will not be a part of this plan.”

“Of course, you will!” Dustin implored with desperate hands grabbing at her arms to shake with emphasis. “You’re the one who’s gonna have to flirt with Eddie.”

Robin and Steve blurted in disbelief. “What?!”

“Well, Steve can’t flirt with Y/N, she’ll never go for it.” Dustin rationalized. 

“Woah, woah, wait a second, what makes you think she wouldn’t go for me?” Steve plowed on, his ego taking an obvious hit by a child six years his age. “I’m a total catch, the ladies love me!” He argued. “And Robin, she can’t flirt with Eddie, she’s… uh, well, she- she just can’t!” He stepped up to try to help his friend, much to Robin’s appreciation.

Dustin sighed, placing a tender hand upon Steve’s shoulder. “Look, Steve, you gotta get over this crush you have on Robin-”

“I do not have a crush on Robin!” Steve flung Dustin’s arm away. “And back to this ‘Y/N not going for me’ thing, I can totally flirt with her to get her to crack!”

Dustin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, as though he was the adult in this situation. “Steve, c’mon, she calls you himbo behind your back, she probably thinks you have no personality.” 

“I have personality!”

“No, you have hair!” 

In the midst of the commotion, Eddie Munson had sauntered his way out of the double doors, cigarette in hand to relinquish the stress brought upon him throughout the day. Despite the matter that his van had been haphazardly parked on the west end of the parking lot for reasons being that your pretty self always used the end doors for the less crowded purposes—sue him, he loved the view—there was always something about Steve Harrington and Dustin Henderson arguing that always brought happy entertainment for the metalhead. 

“Trouble in paradise?” His croaking voice startled the group, as they all looked at him stunned. “Jesus Christ, what’s with the faces?” Eddie laughed, as his cigarette scraped along the wetness of lips. 

“N-Nothing.” Robin awkwardly had to offer, forcing Eddie to raise a brow at her.

And then he spoke. Dustin fucking Henderson spoke. “Actually! Uh, R-Robin what were you saying about Eddie just now?” She snapped a deadly glare back at him, to which he gladly challenged with a grating smile that had Steve quietly laughing in the back.  

“You talkin’ about me behind my back, Buckley? C’mon, I thought we were friends.” Eddie lightly jabbed, as he paid more attention to his lighter, which was taking multiple rounds of clicks until it ignited. 

“Nothing.” She assured. “I said nothing.”

“No, no, you were saying something about his outfit.” Dustin encouraged. God, how ethical was it to beat up a child? “About how he… looks nice.” 

Robin sighed, as Eddie gave her a lighthearted smile. “Thanks, Rob, I’m really liking those patches.” He pointed to her sweater, finding nothing but the innocence of friendship in her supposed compliment. 

“A-And something about his large muscles.” A curl of his hair was absentmindedly twirled as to appear uninvolved in the scheme of his mischief, and right as Eddie’s eyes left Dustin with a confused stare, the kid’s arm shoved Robin’s back to coach her further. 

So, Robin Buckley, simply accepted. Though, tapping into her retired career of one year in drama club when she got the gracious role of playing Mrs. Soames in last year's production of Our Town proved to lack any skills training, when attempting to flirt with Eddie Munson had her stuttering like a child learning to speak. Then again, playing Mrs. Soames in Our Town didn’t exactly require her to flirt with her friend’s secret boyfriend who was a man!

“Y-Yeah, Eddie, uh, that m-material.” Robin bunglingly smiled, as a stiff hand touched the leather of his coat. “O-Oh, well, hello, Mr. B-Bicep.” She mentally prepared herself for the moment Steve Harrington would belittle her to death for her lack of flirting skills whenever this mess was over.  “You’ve been, uh, working out?” 

Attempting to give her the benefit of the doubt, Eddie chose to assuage the painful discomfiture with his casual sarcasm. “Ah, well, I try to, y’know, squeeze things.” Eddie recoiled at her over-the-top laugh that appeared too similar to that of Heidi Wilson’s, when she ran into him and Steve in the food court of Starcourt Mall last week, looking to allure his friend with whatever screech that was. “You okay?”

“Uh-”

“She’s just having guy problems.” Dustin interjected, much to Robin’s dismay. Never. Never in a million years would Robin Buckley ever have guy problems. “Go on, tell him.” 

Yeah, Dustin Henderson wouldn’t see the age sixteen. “Well, uh, you know how you’re s-sometimes just looking for something, a-and don’t even realize that it’s, um, right there in front of you... s-smoking a cigarette?”

Eddie looked down at the lit cigarette in his mouth, and quickly stepped back in panic, all while Steve Harrington’s cheeks puffed with laughter, as his sealed lips worked overtime to not guffaw out loud. “U-Um, yeah, okay, I’m gonna go.” Eddie could only spare a quick glance to Robin, before throwing everyone a small wave goodbye. 

Robin Buckley watched him walk away for two seconds, before slowly turning to Dustin Henderson, where he was met with her twitching eye. “You have five seconds to run.”

His mouth fell gape. “But wait, Steve’s my ride-”

“Five!” 

That Monday afternoon, Dustin Henderson spent forty-five grueling minutes walking the three mile hike to his home, as punishment per Robin Buckley’s request. And yes, she did wave him goodbye, when Steve Harrington’s BMW swiftly passed him on the way over. 

-

Steve Harrington confirmed it next. 

And maybe was a little asshole about it. 

Benny’s Burger had become the choice of dinner for the mundane Monday night he was currently enduring, because Eddie Munson refused to hit up the bar, despite the common courtesy that buying beers had become for the twenty-year-old men. At the very least, greasy burgers with a cigarette to follow would be the accommodation Eddie Munson could offer, since Steve Harrington had lost his weekly hookup, because his personal wingman decided to fall into a secret relationship- presumably. Steve was choosing to balance on the fence of whether or not to believe the words of a fourteen-year-old, mostly because if he did, Steve Harrington would become subjected to the sanctimonious behavior of a cocky teenager. 

And who would want that? 

“Lemme do a double cheeseburger with extra pickles, uh, no tomatoes, please. Ooh, with a side of cheese fries, a strawberry shake, and I’ll get that with a Coke, too. Thanks, Benny.” Steve eyed his friend. God, that man could eat. The bustling fan that chilled Benny’s sweaty neck had proffered a wonderful alternative to the sweltering humidity that tinted the large windows with fog. Aside from the burly trucker consuming the two cups of coffee to keep him awake for the night, Steve had all respective authority to slyly grill his buddy on whatever friends-with-benefits-slash-potential-boyfriend-girlfriend dynamic he shared with you. 

Fuck it. “Uh, might as well do the same, Ben, what he said.” The laminated menu went unskimmed, closed off, and collected for the owner to take. 

Assuring the boys their meals would follow out quickly, they met Benny with gracious thank you’s for the service, and Steve Harrington rashly followed the movements of the older gentleman, until his being was out of ear shot, promptly snapping his head back to his friend. “Why didn’t you wanna go to the bar tonight?!” If a sign as to why Robin Buckley and Steve Harrington were soulmates, for whatever reason, needed to be clearer than it already was, the incaution- not so subtle “subtle” approach was reason enough. 

“Uh,” Eddie hummed, forcing Steve’s eyes to narrow in return, “I dunno, just didn’t wanna go for drinks tonight.” He shrugged, flicking at a sugar packet he had no intentions of using. 

Steve raised a brow. “Really?”

The incredulous tone was quite too bitchy for Eddie’s liking, who merely scoffed. “Can’t a guy care about his liver?”

“Ed, there’s a pack of cigarettes hangin’ in your pocket.” Steve deadpanned. “Think organ functionality is the least of your worries.” Unwelcoming to the implied suspicion of accusation behind Steve’s comment, Eddie simply chose to stay silent, finding more interest playing with the provided condiments as trinkets for his entertainment. Steve rolled his eyes. “Y’know, I saw Myra at the laundromat not too long ago.” He scratched his clean shaven chin, playing into his nonchalant bit, that only left Eddie to raise his eyebrows in confusion as to where this was going. “She looked nice; got her hair done, these pretty, little braids, y’know, with the gold cuffs and whatnot.” 

Eddie’s head lolled, enjoying the simple task of his finger tracing the obscured lines of the faux granite table top, when the ketchup label had been read to its entirety. “So?”

“So,” Steve emphasized, “you coulda called her up, y’know, tell her to meet you tonight. How long has it been since you’ve seen her- or any girl for that matter?” He slyly asked. 

“Not interested.” Blunt and suffice, surely enough to ward off anymore of Steve’s prodding questions. 

But Steve merely scoffed. “What, in girls anymore?” 

And in true Eddie Munson fashion, a shit-eating grin consumed his face, devious smile lines and all, as he leaned on perched forearms to invade Steve’s space. “Aw, why? You interested, big boy?”

Yeah, this conversation would be going nowhere. 

As the sparing minutes filled to meaningless conversations, their full course dinners made the quick arrival, and Steve pondered at the various ways a confession could be pummeled out of Eddie Munson’s mouth, which was currently being stuffed to the brim with mushing bites of each food group—minus the vegetables, this was Benny’s Diner after all. There was the ex-fling route, but clearly Eddie wasn’t looking to explore that again; good news for you, at least. That is if anything Henderson claimed was actually true. Little shit-

But wait a minute, that was it! What would Dustin Henderson do?!

He could still hear his grating voice. "Well, Steve can’t flirt with Y/N, she’ll never go for it." As if. Steve Harrington could get you- hell, Steve Harrington could get anyone. Graduating out of the social hierarchy of high school totally hasn’t affected his game… totally. But digressing, if Dustin Henderson could scheme up a plan with no substance, Steve Harrington could, too. If anything, this would make so much more sense, given that Robin doesn’t even like boys. Dustin Henderson didn’t know anything, but Steve, yeah Steve Harrington was way more cunning than some snappy child with no regard for people’s business. Yeah, Steve Harrington could totally do this…

Eddie’s chewing slowed, brows cinched, as he wondered why the hell Steve Harrington had been silently smiling to himself for the past minute. And people saw him as a freak? Fucking weirdo. 

“Hey, uh,” Steve cleared his throat, presumably back to being normal, allowing Eddie to continue to shove his face with a strawberry milkshake covered cheese fry, unperturbed by Steve’s judgemental grimace, “I’m thinkin’ of askin’ out Y/N.”

Suddenly caught in his throat, Eddie began coughing up the fry he just downed, as Steve smiled with such amusement at the torment he just caused his friend. Maybe Henderson was right. “W-What? You wanna what?”

“Yeah, been thinkin’ about it, and y’know, I’m really feeling her.” Steve cocked a smirk that had Eddie’s face scrunching with agitation. “Very smart, funny, really fucking pretty, so…”

“I d-don’t, um- you really think that’s a g-good idea?” Eddie adjusted in his seat, composing the bubbling feeling that stirred terribly with the monstrosity he had just eaten.

Taking a large bite from his burger, Steve grinned happily. “Why wouldn’t it be?” Hunger and entertainment wonderfully satiated on this peaceful, late Monday night. 

Eddie shrugged, sulkingly throwing a stray pickle in his mouth. “I dunno, you’re just friends n’ all.” He mumbled. 

“Oh!” Steve’s eyes gleamed with laughter behind them. “You don’t think friends should date-”

“No, no, no, no!” God, the last thing Eddie was about to do was inadvertently claim your relationship was some end all be all cataclysm, but did it really have to come at the expense of encouraging his friend to date his secret girlfriend?! “I-I mean, like, some friends c-can date, like, um, good friends-”

“So, me and Y/N?” Steve quietly chuckled to himself, as he watched Eddie fret with frustration. 

“No- I mean, I dunno!” He exasperated, as Steve relished in his greasy food with a smile on his face. Eddie’s heart began sinking into his stomach. He understood how demeaning it would be to conclude you as the type to jump into Steve’s arms once he’d make the “inevitable” move. God, for once in his life someone with care to proffer promised him fundamental security, and there was no denying it, he felt. Felt it in your caressing hands, your saccharine words, your devoted kisses, your gentle touches- you touched with such love… at least, that's what it felt like. Does Eddie Munson even know love? He swallowed thickly. “D-Do you even think she would go for you-”

“I have personality!” Steve proclaimed, finger pointed and all, forcing Eddie to shove back in surrenderance, hands in the air, and a confused look to pair. 

“Okay, I’m not sayin’ you don’t, geez.” Eddie clarified, as Steve huffed, raking a harsh hand through his Farrah Fawcett hairsprayed perfection. “J-Just maybe don’t. Like, um, i-if it doesn’t work out, it could get really bad between you two, a-and it would be fucking horrible not to have her in your life at all, you can’t lose her, man.” 

Voice so small and eyes so distant, there was a deep inkling that perhaps Eddie was speaking his fears aloud. Because even in the greatness that was having the privilege of calling you his girlfriend, there was a world full of Steve Harringtons that could provide you with more than what any Eddie Munson ever could. Late at night, when the world could finally offer you both the peace to just be, entangled in arms and legs, Eddie would just stare at you and… know. Know that there is a feeling that scares the living shit out of him that he can’t feel for anyone else. A different type of feeling from the camaraderie of his club, who triumph against the evil of the universe. A different type of feeling from the shoulders he’s cried on of his uncle, because Eddie truly cannot thank him enough. You, you were a different type of feeling. One that left him just wanting to look at you, smell you, touch you, think of you all day. 

This wasn’t just infatuation, god, it felt like pure fucking lo- shit, what would he know. Eddie Munson didn’t know love. 

A sudden wave of regret washed over Steve, as he realized the saddened roundness of his buddy’s eyes. “Nah, man, that’s not gonna happen.” His calm voiced reassured. “I mean, it’s Y/N, why would she ever allow that to happen? Y’know, so what, things don’t work out between… me and her,” he explicated, “doesn’t mean your- I mean, our friendship has to change.” Steve watched, as Eddie nodded along, shoulders slumping in relaxation. “We talk it out, we understand each other, and we move on as friends. Together. We’ll still love each other like that. And, hey, at least we’ll both get a hot hookup out of it.” Okay, maybe he was still being a little shit, but he was only channeling his inner Henderson. Plus, the snapping glare from Eddie was quite priceless. 

“Are you really gonna make a move on Y/N?” His jaw ticked with clenched teeth. 

“I dunno.” Steve smiled, before snapping his fingers with a brilliant revelation, “Y’know what, I saw Robin flirting with you earlier today, how ‘bout we go on a double date?” Yeah, now he was definitely just teasing. “Hell, make it a triple one once Byers and Wheeler head back into town.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Robin was not flirting with me, she was just being… weird.” He pondered it for a second. What the hell was that that happened this afternoon? There’s no way she actually- no, impossible. Could she? No, that didn’t feel right. Well, maybe-

“Hey, do you actually think I have personality?” Oh, Stevie. 

-

On Tuesday evening, the Family Video store saw the little customers it was regularly accustomed to; Mr. Fredrickson, only to be accounted for, slowly roamed the documentary section, particularly interested in the historical segment for his afternoon leisure.

The nub of his cane poked an indent into the carpeted floors, as his supported weight allowed for close inspection of the bolded titles that plastered in an array of colors. Luckily, the lens of his glasses were thick enough to provide him the ability of sight to read what was on display for night, leaving you to mindlessly thumb through this month's issue of Cosmopolitan. “Hm.” Mr. Fredrickson gruffed. “What d’ya make of the Franco-Prussian War, darlin’?”

The Proven Personal Approach to Permanent Weight Loss. An Incredible Shrinking Woman Tells How She did it! Christ. You found more interest flipping back to the written Cosmo’s quiz determining what kind of husband your current rendezvous would make. 

“Uh…” Your back was beginning to ache from finding all support on your perched elbow digging into the counter, letting your cheek fall to your palm. “You did the Napoleonic Wars last time, no? Why don’t you give the French a break?” You skimmed the printed words of the glossy pages.

His wrinkled pointer finger shakingly racked through the tapes, as he took your word of advice. Your eyes were hanging onto the last bit of energy they were enduring to stay awake, but the weight of eyelids inevitably began to win, and it surely didn’t help that the liveliness of your thriving life was partaking in conversations with an elderly man who found amusement in learning about wars. 

But before a potential write up—Keith never found the actual courage to do so, loved to threaten it, though—for sleeping on the job could be scolded, the welcoming bell of the front door rang loudly enough to alert some life back into your body. 

“Welcome to Family Vide-euuawghh.” A guttural yawn ripped out of you, slurring your standardized greeting into an embarrassing mush of sounds. 

With watery eyes scrunched from tiredness, a rushed apology to your incoming customer had proved to fall unnecessary, as a familiar chuckle addressed you back. “Aw, such rigorous labor, working my baby to death, huh?” Eddie Munson, himself, teased, as he leaned to hover over the counter and close to your sluggish face. 

“Don’t tease me.” Your mouth jutted in offense, as you rubbed your eyes to the clear sight of being welcomed by Eddie’s bourbon eyes and a smug curl to his lips. 

His rough-tipped thumb caressed the hairs of your brow to ease. “How can I not when it gets you to make that cute pout at me, hm?”

You piqued with giddiness. “Because I’m your girlfriend.” A label you quickly learned to adore. “And you shouldn’t be mean to your girlfriend.”

Eddie smiled a breathy chuckle, as he peered at your lips. “Yeah, you are my girlfriend, huh?” He proudly verbalized with a husk to his tone. His mouth was itching to say more, pour out all he felt for the girl standing before him, but a counter the size of the world divided the union between two beating hearts of devotion. And manifesting his words of love paved the way for the potential loss of you. But not doing so also did the same. Because he’s learned good things don’t last for Eddie Munson. And what a unless world it would be to lose the profoundness of you. 

God, he wanted to punch Steve Harrington for last night.

Eddie took a deep breath. His bangs landed against your forehead, and scrunched under your nod of confirmation. You are his girlfriend. “Where’re the other two stooges?” He whispered, his breath fanning across your face. 

“In the back doing inventory.” You gladly answered the words Eddie wanted to hear. He bashfully leaned in, though before his mouth could meet yours, you pulled back with furrowed brows. “Wait, ‘other two stooges,’ am I the third?” 

Eddie barked out a boyish laugh, as he watched your faux face of aversion and shock. His large hands made your face feel small as he cupped your cheeks and brought you forth. “God, you’re so pretty.” 

His lips crashing upon yours had wiped your expression of any annoyance you tried to playfully brat out. His mouth moved against yours so languidly, it had you falling limp to his kiss, as he expressed all that he felt with the touch of his lips. Eddie pulled away slowly, leaving you to quietly hum in retaliation and chasing his lips. 

“Sorry.” He chuckled, providing you with one more loving peck. “But, hey, y’know, speaking of the other stooges, uh, Robin and Steve,” he cleared his throat, “you notice anything weird about ‘em, like lately?”

The cafeteria. “Um, yeah, actually.” You contemplated on the thought. “Why, did they say something?”

Nausea hit him like a truck, wondering if "The Hair’s" attempts to get at you were already happening quicker than expected. “S-Steve, he, uh, he said something to you?” Eddie felt his throat dry up.

“Steve? No, Steve’s been Steve, but I was mostly talking about Robin.” Jesus Christ, did you bring peace to his world. 

“Oh, yeah,” He puffed a breath of relief, “um, weirdest thing happened after school yesterday, but I think Robin was hitting on me.” Confusion had been written all over your face, as you pulled back from the counter. “She was, like, totally into me.”

“What?” You chuckled. “No, not possible.”

“Okay, ow.” Eddie playfully rolled his eyes, as you laughed, rubbing a soothing hand down his arm in apology. 

“I’m sorry, didn’t mean it like that” you giggled, “but I’m sure you probably just misread things, you know? Robin finds you charming in a platonic way, like with Steve.”

Eddie straightened up. “No, I’m telling you, sweetheart, she was all over me.” He persisted. “I mean, for crying out loud, she was touching my bicep.”

A smug smile took over your face, as you arched your brow at him. “This bicep?” You teasingly squeezed his soft arm.

Eddie scoffed. “Well, it’s not flexed right now.” 

The back storage unit of Family Video had been littered with an influx of tapes, both coated in dust to be long forgotten and pristine with the newest release of what Hollywood had to offer. This year’s box office hit Top Gun starring Nancy Wheeler’s poster boy, Tom Cruise, or the fourteen-year-old The Ruling Class with the musical humor following a priest’s death due to his autoerotic asphyxiation kink? Robin Buckley laughed. Always the latter. 

“God, can’t believe Keith expects us to organize this junk.” Steve huffed, swiping his palms against each other, only to scowl at the specks of dust that floated into the air under the beaming sunlight. “I should be seeing Bridget right now, or Heidi, or taking out Linda, maybe Jeanie, haven’t talked to her in a minute.” Robin rolled her eyes at the endless sex-capades that was Steve Harrington’s love life. Christ, she couldn’t even get a clear sign that Vickie from chemistry wasn’t standing so straight. “Or-or maybe Y/N.” He chuckled to himself. 

“What?” Robin prodded. 

“Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you, last night I was completely bugging out Munson, and told him I was planning on askin’ out Y/N.” Steve laughed, briefly coughing as dust particles blew off the VHS tapes. 

Robin was only left deadpanning in disappointment. “You did what now?” She scoffed. “You’re supposed to be on my side, I thought we were supposed to let it go?”

“You’re the one flirting with your friend’s boyfriend.” He argued. 

“Because that little twerp forced me to!” The Ruling Class came hurdling to his chest, as she chucked it. 

Shoving old movies aside, Steve grappled onto the box of new releases to shove into Robin’s arms, as he handled the second load. “Look, it doesn’t matter anymore, there are no sides, as much as I hate to admit it, Henderson was right about those two screwing.” Steve enthused. “You should’ve seen the look on Eddie’s face when I told him I was gonna make a move on Y/N.”

Robin huffed. “Okay, so let’s just leave it at that and let them screw in peace- or, even better yet, let’s just tell them we know, so they can have the freedom to do what they want.” 

“Aw, but where’s the fun in that?” Steve whined. 

Robin laughed at his childish mewl. “And, unless Munson gets rid of the thing in his pants and learns to grow a cup or two, I am not flirting with him again.” She playfully gagged, while reminiscing on yesterday’s events. 

“Please,” Steve derided, “you can’t even look Vickie in the eye, I highly doubt if Munson suddenly grew some tits you’d become some sort of Casanova.” He snorted, opening the door. “Mr. Bicep?” 

Before Robin’s sneaker could step foot back into the main lobby of Family Video, Steve’s grasp onto the collar of her shirt flung her back into the storage room, with a slam to the door. “Are you inane?!” She chastised, while attempting to find her balance with a ten pound box of VHS tapes. 

“Munson’s out there!” He whisper-yelled into her face. 

“Okay, so?” 

“So, we gotta get in there, and stir the pot a little.” His brows danced impishly against his forehead.

Robin’s face dropped vacantly. “What about anything that I literally just said didn’t click for you?” A smack against his head from her hand had him reeling back in defense. 

“Ow, okay, I get it, Munson doesn’t have boobs.” Steve huffed, rubbing out the dulling pain. “But, look, Dustin wasn’t that far off, a little encouragement doesn’t harm anyone. He thinks that you like him and that I like her, you’re telling me this isn’t even a little funny to you?” My god, did Steve Harrington have a charming way of flaunting that stupid smirk that had Robin hold back a chuckle. Because in retrospect, Eddie Munson believing his lesbian friend had a crush on him, while her partner in crime, her himbo, had a supposed liking to his secret girlfriend was quite funny. Funny like a priest dying from his autoerotic asphyxiation kink. 

She sighed, giving him a pointed glare. “One time, Harrington. This is the one and only time I will ever flirt with a man again.” 

Steve threw his hands up in defense, as a smile lingered on his face. “Highly doubt there will ever be a time in which I ask you to do that again.” He laughed, while slinging the door open. “Plus, it’s Munson. I’m sure his cynicism won’t even count it as flirting.” 

“Well, Y/N's flirting surely worked.” She joked, as they stepped out. 

“You think it’s because he has personality or nice hair?” Steve interrogated. “Because I sure as hell have way better hair than him.” 

Despite your alluring face, Eddie caught a glimpse of Steve and Robin making their way over while looking past your shoulder, forcing him to make the regretful decision to back away from you. “Ed.” Your tiny pout of confusion made it all that harder, until Steve’s voice boomed out. 

“Hey, y’know, as a customer, you’re supposed to actually rent something!” Him and Robin joined you both at the counters, where they sat the boxes of movies. “Or, you could, y’know, stock shelves with us.” 

Eddie flipped him the bird, as he smiled. “Actually, I was just stoppin’ by to ask if Halloween is still rented out.” He turned to look down at you with a smirk. “Is it?”

“I can go check that for you.” Your sweet customer service voice had him biting back a grin, as you stepped away to the computer. 

As Steve and Robin began displacing films from the boxes, his elbow nudged her side to grab her attention away from organizing. “Just keep it casual.” He whispered, as she rolled her eyes. “Look, I’m sure if you unfocus your eyes, the five o’clock shadow will go away, and he’ll totally look just like Vickie.” And he huffed right back when Robin rightfully scoffed at him. “What? They have the same eyes… just, y’know, different color… and shape.” 

Robin waved him off before anything further could come out of his mouth. With The Fly nestled in her grasp, Steve threw her a nod of encouragement, before scurrying to the shelves with a small laugh escaping his lips. 

“Sorry, Eds.” You clicked off the computer. “Landon K. beat you to it; no Halloween.” 

“Should totally check out The Fly.” Robin slyly imposed, as she handed him the film. “Can never go wrong with some Cronenberg, right?” Eddie inspected the film with a shrug. “Sure, better than taking movie suggestions from Harrington.” 

There came the inordinate laugh from Robin that had Eddie throwing you a knowing glance, and Robin, herself, internally dying inside. “Ha! Always so funny!” She clumsily fist-bumped his arm. “Uh- anyway! Better get back to work.” A large smile flashed both your ways.. “I, uh, I’ll see you later… handsome.” And following in the footsteps of her grandmother when she wasn’t screaming something batshit crazy, Robin Buckley pinched Eddie Munson’s cheek before running away to Steve Harrington. 

“You pinched his cheek?!” Steve contemptuously chortled in her frazzled face that burned with embarrassment. 

Robin’s hands smack her face, dragging the skin down, as she groaned. “Well, I don’t know how to do the whole flirting thing!” Her fist came smacking down at his chest.

Steve bent at the waist with a cramping stomach of laughter “Okay, yeah, but he’s not a baby!”

Your eyes followed Robin’s running figure until she disappeared into the maze of shelves, and you incredulously turned to your stunned boyfriend. With his mouth wide, and eyes bulging, Eddie fretfully spoke. “Okay, did you see that?! With the compliment, and the pinching?!” 

You bewilderedly settled at the realization. “Actually, I did.” You couldn’t believe it. Your best friend was flirting with you boyfriend- well, technically, she had no clue he was your boyfriend, but still- Eddie? Not to sell your boyfriend short, god, he was perfect in every way, but Robin? Robin and Eddie?!

“Okay, so now do you believe that she’s attracted to me?” He persisted. 

You thought for a second, and Eddie Munson watched your face drop with concern, as your hand clutched your chest. “Oh, my god! Oh, my god! She knows about us!” You cautiously warbled, as you began pacing about behind the counter. 

Eddie’s face scrunched with distress. “Are you serious?” 

“Robin knows, and she’s just trying to freak us out!” You belabored, anxiously looking back to where Steve and Robin could no longer be seen. Your hands dramatically dropped at the revelation. “That’s the only explanation for it!”

Eddie vacillated at the unwarranted insult. “Okay, but what about my pinchable face and bulging biceps?” He confidently pointed to his arm, before the lacking muscle of scrawiness suddenly hit him like a truck. “She knows!” 

Your hand comically slapped the counter, as you chuckled in disbelief at her attempt to fool you. “Oh, man, she probably thinks she’s so slick for messing with us.” Eddie joined in, frenziedly laughing, completely feeling stupefied, though giving props to the mastermind, nonetheless. Impressed he was. “But, hey, you know what? She doesn’t know we know she knows, so…” 

“Ah, yes!” Eddie piqued with interest. “The messers become the messees!” 

-

“You sure you kids are alright?” Shrugging on his utility jacket for the night, the aging lines of Wayne Munson’s forehead scrunched with suspicion for the nightly activity his nephew and his supposed “friend” were going to be up to. 

Sure, the sight of you over at his trailer wasn’t something peculiar, in fact, for the past months, you, in particular, were the only one of Eddie’s buddies who made a regular appearance to their humble abode. Why? Well that was a question that still went unanswered whenever Wayne tried to prod into the life of his nephew. But the way Eddie would blush, while simultaneously attempting to quickly change the subject, made Wayne’s throat tickle with a chuckle. 

Who the hell were you two fooling?

But now, with much concern from Wayne, it seemed as though Eddie’s oddities had begun rubbing off on you, as you both strangely huddled around the yellow home phone, clearly waiting for the second Wayne would close the door behind, as he left for the graveyard shift. 

Attempting to “casually” lean against the paneling of the wall, Eddie’s head was quick to snap up and down in return. “Yeah, yeah.” He rushed. “Better get goin’, don’t wanna be late for the bosses.” He threw an overcompensating smile, as you sat at the kitchen table, merely following suit to that of your “friend.” Wayne Munson couldn’t care less about the bosses. 

“Alright then.” The old man huffed, picking up the keys of his pick-up truck, letting the humid spring breeze waft through the front door. “Get ‘er some dinner if you’re makin’ ‘er stay late.”

“As always.” Eddie threw you a sly wink, as Wayne left with a quick exchange of goodbye thrown from both parties, until the front door finally closed. 

At the click, you sprung from your chair, snatching the phone out of the receiver to hand to Eddie, to which he happily grabbed with a maniacal snicker. “You sure she’s over at Steve’s?” 

Your fingers were fervent with the harsh press to the buttons, dialing the numbers to phone the Harrington residence. “Uh huh, something about watching Fast Times with Robin.” The second your finger pressed down on the last digit, you were quick to maneuver the phone against Eddie’s ear. “Okay, just stick to the script.”

Eddie scoffed, flipping his hair back. “Sweetheart, please, I was able to get you, I sure as hell can get Robin.” Your hand met his chest with a chastising slap. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” He laughed. 

Up the road, on the secluded sector of Cornwallis Street, Robin Buckley was anxiously plowing through a bowl of popcorn, as the fifty-second minute was fastly approaching, and suddenly Phoebe Cates was climbing out of the pool with the detrimental ambience of teenage horniness. 

“Here it comes, here it comes!” Steve snickered, as he absentmindedly chewed on a licorice piece. 

Robin’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “God, Steve, you don’t have to point out the obvious!” But after forcing her friend to endure two hours and thirty-four minutes of the satirical musical critique of institutional religion that was The Ruling Class, Steve decided to return the torture by subjection of… boobies. 

“What I’m point out is the fact that Vickie lived through this exact moment, meaning she was staring at boobies, meaning-”

“Don’t say it!”

“Vickie likes boobies!” Steve implored, the largest grin on his face, as he watched Robin slap her hands onto her face at a brutal attempt to shield herself from the mortifying experience that was having Steve Harrington as a friend. 

But, in slow motion, as Phoebe Cates’ fingers clutched onto the center hook of her bikini bra, the phone shrilled, allowing Robin to exhale a “thank god,” as Steve’s attention begrudgingly turned to the incoming call. 

Swiftly jumping to the end table, Steve picked up the brick phone. “Yeah, hello?” He spoke, munching on another rope of his candy, surely missing the quick glances Robin was making back at the TV. Steve’s brows piqued at the static voice. “Oh! Yeah, she’s right here!” Turning to Robin, his hand cupped over the speaker, as he giddily shoved the phone to her. “It’s Eddie, he’s probably gonna cave in.” He whispered. 

Rolling her eyes, Robin cleared her throat from any stray popcorn kernel, ready to end this once and for all. “Hello?” 

Back at Forest Hills, your toes pressed against the linoleum tiling of the kitchen floor to push yourself up to his height, smushing your ear against the other side of the phone, as mischievous smiles consumed both your faces. “Hello, Robin… I’ve been thinkin’ about you all day.” Eddie channeled his most suave voice, forcing you to bite back a laugh, suppressing your mouth into his shoulder. 

“Huh?!” Devious as ever, both you and Eddie almost broke at her considerable shock. 

Steve raised a questioning brow, attempting to scoot closer, only for Robin to preserve her personal bubble and shove him back. Much to his nosey dismay. “Well, y’know that thing you said before, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t intrigued.” Eddie teased, as you nodded your head along to show your proudness for your boyfriend flirting with your friend. 

Yeah, things in Hawkins, Indiana surely were weird. 

“R-Really?” Robin choked, as the popcorn in her stomach suddenly turned at the uneasiness of male attention. Gross. 

Ever the villain, Eddie smiled triumphantly. “Yeah, listen my uncle isn’t gonna be here tonight, so why don’t you come over, and I’ll let you, uh, feel my bicep… or maybe more.” You quietly chuckled. God, what a cute loser.

Robin grimaced, stuttering with concern. “Uh, you know, I-I’ll have to get b-back to you on that, uh, okay, bye!” She was quick to hang up the phone, while you and Eddie intimately celebrated in the lonesome of his kitchen with silly squeals and tiny jumps. “Oh, my god! He wants me to come over to feel his bicep and more!” 

Steve Harrington was left speechless at Robin’s panicked announcement, as his mouth hung wide. “Are you kidding?!”

“No!” She gagged. “I know what I heard!” 

Steve felt incredulously at the scumminess of his friend. “I cannot believe he would do that to… wait a second.” His brows furrowed. Eddie Munson nearly launched at the chance to shut down any ideas of Steve dating you, why on Earth would he suddenly- oh, shit. “They know!”

“What?!” 

“They know that we know!” Steve clarified, as the gears in Robin’s head turned, until her face was enlightened with the fact of the matter which was that her best friend was trying to deceive her right back!

She gasped. “I can’t believe those two!” Instantaneously, any reservations Robin initially had for Steve and Dustin’s plan had left, as all she felt was dramatic offense at the idea of trying to be demeaned. 

“They thought that they could mess with us?!” Steve proclaimed.

“They’re trying to mess with us?!” In disbelief, both friends chuckled with bewilderment at the unexpected slyness coming from you two. That was, until Robin Buckley schemed with realization. “They don’t know we know they know we know!” 

Steve’s face scrunched with confusion, though nonetheless a team player, he nodded along, giggling at Robin’s wicked implication. Suddenly, a call to the Henderson household was in need. 

Dustin Henderson’s calves burned under the rigorous strain of bike riding from the northern end of Cornwallis street to reach Steve’s house. Haphazardly disposing his bicycle in the driveway, Dustin had barged in with no warning, coming face-to-face with Robin Buckley, resident polyglot band geek, wearing Mrs. Harrington’s blue cocktail dress, as Steve Harrington, retired king of Hawkins High, played makeup artist with his mother’s newly bought red lipstick in hand. 

It was undeniable at this point, Hawkins, Indiana was most definitely weird. 

“Would you just quit moving, so I can put this on you?!” The vein on Steve’s forehead became pronounced under the immense pressure he felt. Being a makeup artist surely wasn’t easy, especially when your client was nagging about the intense blush placement of his work. 

“Enough with the makeup, it’s Eddie for Christ sake!” Robin complained, enduring the endeavor of trying to shove Mrs. Harrington’s shoes onto her feet. God, why was the woman’s shoe size so small?!

“Really Steve?!” Robin and Steve jumped at the intruding voice of Dustin, as the kid stood with his hands on his hips, imitating the signature pose of the man before him. “That’s totally not her color, you’re making her look like a clown!”

Both parties scoffed, rightfully offended. 

Robin pushed Steve away, rubbing her cheeks harshly to blend out the monstrosity that was Steve’s makeup skills. “Okay, this is plenty!” She stressed. “We’re gonna call him, we’re gonna get that date, and we’re gonna win!” 

The boys cheered, Dustin more so heavily appreciative of this new Buckley mentality, as they circled around her when she reached for the phone. “Mm! You better grab a spring roll before I eat ‘em all.” Eddie’s crowded mouth of mashed vegetables spoke. Chinese had been delivered in the wake of your celebration, congratulating both of you for your—mostly Eddie—duplicitously clever work. 

In the midst of diving into your tangled lo mein, the phone shrilled, which had Eddie springing from the couch. “Probably calling back to surrender!” You cheered, as Eddie snickered, sliding his socked feet into the kitchen. “Good job on creeping her out, babe!” 

Eddie bowed, accepting whatever weird kind of praise that was, before answering the phone with a muffled mouth of spring rolls. “Hello?”

“Be sexy.” Steve encouraged, eliciting a scoff from Robin, as she turned her focus onto the phone call. 

“Hi!” Both terribly displeased with her lack of commitment, Robin was met with strict glares from Dustin and Steve to amp it up… so, she did. Clearing her throat, she dropped an octave to obtain the sultriness of what she could only assume Roxie Rockett and Viola Diamond to sound like. “Uh, I mean, hey, you.” Robin Buckley wanted to puke. “So, Eddie, I’d love to come over tonight.”

A piece of pork was hacked from Eddie’s throat, as he choked on his food. “R-Really?!”

Watching his face drop, you stood with concern wondering what was going on on the other line. “Oh, absolutely. Should we say around nine?” Eddie checked his clock. In fifteen fucking minutes?! 

But Eddie Munson wasn’t going to back down. Eddie Munson, Dungeon Master of the great Hellfire, who’s pushed his men to prevail against the nefarious dark lords of villages and towns alike, was not going to be defeated by Trumpet Girl. The man glared his eyes. “Yes.” He tested. 

Robin Buckley accepted his challenge. “Good.” She smiled, as she watched Steve motion for her to crank it up a notch. “Uh, I’m really looking forward to you and I h-having sexual intercourse.” The phone hung up and flung from her hands the second the words left her mouth. 

Eddie Munson’s face dropped. Dustin Henderson gagged. Steve Harrington laughed. And Robin Buckley wanted to crawl into a hole to forever perish in the depths of torturous hell. 

Because that’s what it felt like to flirt with a man. 

-

“Okay, showtime!” Dustin applauded from the backseat of Steve’s car, where Robin scrambled to effortlessly scrunch her hair around. 

“Here’s the perfume.” Steve pushed down the nozzle of the stolen fragrance of his mother’s collection—thanking god for the moment that she wasn’t here—where his finger spritzed numerous doses against Robin, causing the car to invade with the nauseating scent of strong, overpowering flowers. 

Robin coughed. “Alright, quit it! The kid has allergies.”

“I have allergies!” Dustin sneezed. 

Steve huffed in annoyance, watching as Robin unbuckled from her seat. The beaming headlights that had once reflected off the vinyl-covered walls of the trailer had been switched off for stake-out purposes, as Steve’s car parked in the open area of the Munson home in the quiet night. 

“Hand over the wine, Henderson.” Buckled next to the seat of Dustin’s—for protective measures—a bottle of his parent's stolen chardonnay rested like a passenger on board; Steve’s, ever the romantic, suggestion for the authenticity of a real date. 

“Is this really necessary?” Robin truly had no room to talk, she most definitely hadn’t experienced the polarizing events of the dating scene, let alone ones of heterosexual realms (thankfully).  

Scoffing, Steve was galled by the dig at his—for once—knowledgeable expertise of life phenomena. “Are you kidding, chicks go for this shit.” Surely, Bridget, Heidi, Linda, and Jeanie can attest to his opinion. 

“Yeah, well, Munson’s definitely not a chick… unfortunately.” She mumbled. 

“Huh?” Dustin asked. 

Robin was quick to shut up in a panic. “Nothing!” 

“Look, just get in there, and do your thing, alright?” Whatever attempt at a pep talk this was from Steve Harrington devastatingly fell short, as the last thing Robin Buckley expected to do on her Tuesday night was go out on a date with a man, who so happened to be her best friend’s boyfriend. Thing?! What thing?! She couldn’t even stare her crush in the eye for Christ sake, Steven! Robin Buckley has no thing! And Eddie Munson unfortunately does- the repulsing (to her) kinda thing that Robin Buckley doesn’t even like! She huffed. “Just take it easy. The second Munson lets you in, we’ll sneak up to the door, and hear through there.” 

On the edge of his bed, Eddie Munson let your hands wander about, until his appearance was up to your liking; voluminous hair, controlled friz, straightened shirt, and a bottle of minty mouth spray that he coughed at, but necessary for the prevention of spring roll breath. “Okay, you’re gonna be great!” You motivated him with the words of encouragement, as you brushed away his stray hairs. “You just make her think you want to have sex with her, and it’ll totally freak her out.”

Eddie straightened up, shaking his body from any jitters, and stretching as if a marathon was in place. “Okay, so how far am I exactly supposed to go with her?” His face etched with concern. 

You waved him off. “Relax, alright, she’s gonna give in way before you do!” If there was anything you learned about Robin Buckley in your months of friendship, it was the blatantly obvious fact that she would shrivel up in awkwardness before anything further took place. 

Eddie Munson freaked at your sudden certainty. “How do you even know?!”

“Because you’re on my team!” You stressed. “And my team always wins!” 

His face scrunched with fret. “At this?!”

Tentative knocking against the front door pulled you both away from the conversation. It was game time. “Eddie,” his head whipped back to you, “you’re the Dungeon Master, okay? This, this is nothing in comparison to dark lord wizard thingies.” God, he knew for certain you didn’t fully understand his interest in Dungeons and Dragon, but the time you took to support him was making his heart beat faster than any fake date with your best friend could ever make him feel. 

You make him feel such incredible things. 

“You’re the master here, you’re in control, you got this!” Jesus Christ, the corny shit your competitiveness was making you say was too fucking cute. “Just go get some!” You finished him with a quick kiss that had him yearning for more, but your body quickly scurried away to the bathroom. 

Eddie Munson sighed. Cracking his neck, he rolling his shoulder. “I’m the Dungeon Master. I’m in control.”

Steve clutched a heavy hand on his steering wheel, as both him and Dustin peered through the windows. “Okay, just wait for it… wait for it… wait- get down!” The boys dropped their heads the second Eddie’s front door opened with a dramatic swing. 

And there she was. Eddie cocked an eyebrow for whatever reason it was Robin Buckley chose to show up overly dressed like a middle-aged woman, and with an awkward smile to taint her image. But Eddie Munson was right there to follow suit with a strange grin to greet her. 

“Robin.”

“Eddie.”

“Come on in.”

“I was going to.” 

As the trailer door closed shut, Steve and Dustin silently crawled their way out of the car with their utmost quietest attempts of closing the doors shut behind them. With crouched stances like detectives on duty, the pair scampered their way to the top of Eddie’s cemented stairs, where their heads pressed against the front door to hear the muffled conversation from the other side. 

“I, uh, brought some wine.” Robin held up the bottle, as Eddie was slightly taken aback. What the hell kinda teenager brings wine to a date? Probably the kind who’s a lesbian, and going out with her best friend’s boyfriend out of competition. “Would you like some?”

“Oh, uh, sure.” Making their way to the kitchen, Eddie secured two cups, as Robin popped off the protruding cork top, and suddenly she felt entirely even more stupid than the fact that she was on a “date” with a man, when Eddie proffered matching Garfield and Odie mugs for glasses of chardonnay. 

The dreadful silence began to take over, and Eddie could only manage to fill it with thorny chuckles, as Robin filled the mugs. “So, uh,” she sighed, “here we are. Nervous?”

“Me? No. You?” He skeptically questioned.  

But Robin Buckley was there to provoke him. “No, I want this to happen.” 

“So do I.” Eddie cleared his throat, before their glasses clicked with a toast, and Robin and Eddie found themselves chugging down the mug-fulls of alcohol to hopefully forget the disturbing night they were about to endure. When cups fell empty, Eddie sighed and turned to the radio that rested atop of the washing machine. “Why don’t I, uh, play some music; set the mood a little.”

Call her inexperience, whatever, but Robin knew there was no way in hell the screeching voices of Slayer attested to “setting the mood” during date night. God, she felt bad for you- for straight women. “Maybe-maybe I’ll, uh, dance for you.” She dared right back. 

Where Robin could judge Eddie on his music taste, Eddie could return the favor in her lack of mobility, as her body began clumsily swaying about in his kitchen, off rhythm to the already undanceable sounds to thrashing metal. Her contorting ankles in kitten heels paired with her jutting hips allowed her to mortifyingly saunter her way over to an uncomfortable Eddie, who was wielding the willpower to not bark a laugh in her face. 

But Robin Buckley was not going to win this. Not when Eddie Munson’s pride stood in the way. “Mm, you look good.” He spoke so stiffly, as he defied back with a taunting grin. 

“Why, thank you.” She forced out a laugh. “Y-You know, when you say things l-like that, it makes me wanna, um, rip that… Weird Al t-shirt right off.” Jesus Christ, Dustin made him get matching ones. 

“Okay,” he cleared his throat, “well, uh, why don’t we move this to the bedroom then?” His brows pointed, eyes glared. 

Robin immediately stopped her bizarre dancing. “Really?” Her panic settled in. 

“Oh!” Eddie quickly stepped back with an impeding smile. “Do you not want to?” He urged. 

“No, no.” Robin composed herself, waving him off with faux confidence. “I just, um, you know, first, I wanna t-take off all my clothes, and have you r-rub lotion all over me.” Is that what straight people do before sex?!

Eddie’s throat constricted with little air, and a tightening hand of embarrassment. “Well, that would be nice.” His voice raised a cracking octave. “I’ll, uh, go get the lotion.” Before Robin could respond, Eddie was already running away to the bathroom. Your gnawing teeth had bitten through your nail when Eddie came bustling through the door. “Okay, this is totally getting out of hand.”  He fretfully groused, as he crowded your area in the small room. “She wants me to put lotion on her!” Eddie dramatically snarled. 

You rebuffed his dread. “She’s bluffing!”

Eddie huffed. “Look, she’s not backing down. Jesus, shit, she went like this!” He suddenly gyrated his stiff hips harshly against you to mimic her dancing. 

A couple feet away at the front door of Eddie’s trailer, Robin was in consternation, frantically rambling to Steve and Dustin. “He is not backing down! He went to get lotion!”

“You aren’t done yet?” Dustin heaved. “You’re supposed to be on my team, he should be cracking right now!” 

Her angry finger flicked against his forehead, despite his insistent cries of pain. “This is all your fault to begin with!”

“Okay, will everybody just calm down for a second?” Steve hushed, where his hands found the relaxing perch against his hips, as if his motherly duties were calling. “Think of it this way, the sooner you get Eddie to break, the sooner this can all be over with.”

“Ooh, I like that.” Robin nodded along. 

“Just amp the flirting, alright?” Steve coached. “Look, it took him weeks to actually approach a girl at the bar, he used to get totally flustered whenever he’d play wingman for me. How the hell managed to get Y/N? I don’t know, but all I do know is that just like you, Eddie Munson is a total dud when it comes to flirting.”

Her mouth fell agape at the insult that stung too much from the utter reality of the statement. It didn’t make her feel any better when Dustin shoved that patronizing look in her face. “Yeah, Robin, sweetie, you are not doing a good job right now.”

“How would you know? You’re fourteen!” She bellowed. 

“And yet, which one of us is in a loving, committed relationship?” The kid snided.

Steve shushed Dustin away before a catfight could break out on the doorstep of Eddie’s home. “Look, you got this. Just make Munson uncomfortable! You’re a girl, you got this!”

“He’s a boy, he makes me uncomfortable!” She spat. 

Ransacking his bathroom cabinets for a bottle of lotion, you hastily shoved the bottle into his grasp, and clutched onto his shoulders. “You go back in there, and you seduce her till she cracks!” Never in a million years did you think you’d encourage your boyfriend to do that. Though with this much commitment, he should really get you into Dungeons and Dragons.

“Okay, just give me a second.” He took a deep breath for composure, just as he got a good glimpse of his bathroom. “Did you clean up in here?!” Your eyes rolled, before grappling onto the doorknob, and pushing Eddie out of the bathroom. He slowly approached the kitchen, where his nervousness eased at the sight of Robin at the door. “Oh, you’re, uh… you’re going!” He smiled.

Steve Harrington's voice replayed in her head, and Robin cleared her throat to pull out the sultry crisp she was needing to flirt. “Um, not without you, lover.”

Eddie flashed her a tight-lipped smile, as he released a big sigh. “Well, uh, come here.” He beckoned. “I’m very happy we’re gonna have all the sex.” 

Robin ignored the disgust in her belly to test him. “Y-You should be.” She smirked. “I’m very bendy.” Eddie’s eyebrows pulled with fright, as she stepped closer. “I’m going to k-kiss you now.”

And Eddie bothered her right back. “Not if I, um, kiss you first!” With a foot apart, Robin Buckley made her first move on a man, as her stiff hand latched uncomfortably to Eddie’s waist. Devastatingly following in line, Eddie’s fingertips barely grazed her skin, as they lightly rested onto her shoulder, neither party urging anyone to come closer. “Well, I-I guess there’s nothing left for us to do than to kiss.”

“Here it comes.” With rigid lips tucked inward, and tense bodies hesitantly pulling together, Eddie Munson genuinely began to realize how much of a idiotic idea all this was. A nauseating feeling struck him, as he understood what a lousy world it’d be to live in if he had to continue to disguise his feelings for you. I mean, going on a date with your best friend? This is the lengths he’s going to to hide something so perfect? And Robin. For the love of god, if picturing Joan Jett over Eddie’s face was needed to make this experience slightly less miserable, then, yeah, maybe this plan was stupid all along. 

“Okay, okay, okay! Fine, you win!” Eddie pulled away, as Robin’s face astounded. “I will not have sex with you!” He huffed with exhaustion. 

“And why not?” Robin smiled, as the victory was coming her way.

“Because I’m in love with Y/N!” 

“You’re-you’re what?” The front door jolted open, as Steve Harrington and Dustin Henderson hurdled their way in, but Eddie took no notice of the peculiarity in that. Not when he heard the bathroom door open behind him. 

“Love her!” He proclaimed at the top of lungs. “That’s right! I love her!” Eddie pointed to you, as you made your way closer. “I love her! I’m in love with her!” And suddenly, the reality of you actually standing in front of him hit him, and Eddie realized the weight of what he just admitted to you… and his friends. Eddie took a deep breath, as he solemnly stared down at you, and in an instant, he felt his body calm at the sight of your smile. “I love you, Y/N.” 

His hands took solace against your warm cheeks, where you stared up at with adoration in your eyes. “I love you, Eddie.” Your arms circled around his neck, as his desperate hands clung to your shirt to pull you into an intoxicating kiss that had you both mewling with tenderness. This was it. Eddie Munson knew love.

That was until Robin spoke. “Oh, my god, you guys! We thought you were just doing it, we didn’t know you were in love!” She gushed. 

Steve shyly smiled from the back. “Dude!” He effused. 

“Aha!” And then there was Dustin Henderson. “I told you! I told all of you! And none of you wanted to believe me! I was right and you were wrong!” He pompously smiled, before turning to you and Eddie. “By the way, I was the first to know! I’ve been knowing for a week after you freaks forced me to lose my dice!” 

Eddie chuckled, as his hands stayed secured around you. “Actually, Dustin, Max was kinda the first to know. She found out four months ago, when she caught Y/N leaving my place at night.” He admitted. “Been blackmailed ever since; spent $20 on some damn heart-shaped sunglasses.” 

“Are you kidding me!” Dustin felt gobsmacked, betrayed and abandoned, like those damn Fritos. 

“Hey, but, uh, hats off to you, Robin.” Eddie smiled, offering a hand of congratulation. “Quite the competitor.” And she shook it proudly, another notch in whatever weird belt this was. 

“I still can’t believe you never told me.” Dustin gasped. “I mean, seriously, Max out of all people.” Dustin Henderson, Steve Harrington, and Eddie Munson’s voices eventually faded into the background, as you managed to slip away from your boyfriend’s grasp to hold onto the hand of your best friend, while you whisked her away to the quiet corner of the living room. 

“Hey, so I just wanted to apologize to you real quick.” You softly smiled at Robin. “I mean, going through all this just because I kept this from you,” you sighed, “I’m just really sorry you were forced to date my boyfriend.” 

Robin laughed, as she squeezed your hand. “I’m sorry you’re forced to date him everyday.” She joked. “No, but seriously, you don’t have to apologize at all.” Her throat began to sting with the heftiness of her feelings, but she felt the warmth of fingers against hers, and Robin Buckley took her deep breath. “I understand why you did it- why you felt the need to hide.” 

“You do?”

“Yeah.” She tearfully smiled. “I feel the same way, just a little different. I just, um, I know what it’s like to want to keep something to yourself, because having to come out as something you know the world isn’t going to love is scary. It’s really scary, Y/N.” Her hand tightened, as her voice cracked. 

But in true Buckley style, that beautiful smile never left her face, as she told you her biggest fear. But what a shame it was that the world made her biggest fear her truest self. Your arms wrapped around her in a suffocating hug, where she let out a shaky sigh against your shoulder. “Robin,” you whispered into her hair, “I love you.” You implored. “Eddie does. Steve does. I hope you know that this town isn't worth being scared of.” You felt her shudder against you, as your hand soothed down her back. “Not when you’re so goddamn perfect.” Robin laughed, as she pulled away, clearing her eyes from any unspilled tears that threatened to stain her cheeks. “I know it’s easier said than done, but genuinely, don't waste your perfect self on what the world wants.” She digested your words, flashing you a thankful grin, as she steady to jumping nerves. “I mean, take it from the man himself, your date tonight, who’s univocally himself.”

You both turned to the kitchen, where Steve and Eddie had Dustin pinned, with a spring roll in hand, trying to shove it down the defiant kid’s mouth. “Jesus, I really am sorry you have to date him.” 

You both laughed, as you watched the commotion take place. And you looked at Eddie Munson, how effortlessly beautiful he was, and how comfortable those around him came to be in his accepting presence. “He’s not too bad.” You smiled. “Now, c’mon, we have Chinese and chardonnay to celebrate!” 

Finally letting the child go, Steve snagged the spring roll with a monumental bite of pleasure, before closely crowding into Eddie’s bubble. “No, but seriously, dude, how the hell did you do it?” Steve Harrington pointed to you, as Eddie Munson smiled.