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milliesfishes · 1 month ago

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౨ৎ꣑ৎBodies Are Not the Only Things Buried౨ৎ꣑ৎ

꣑ৎ"Even if it is full of love, all a ghost can do is haunt."꣑ৎ

[fem reader] contains: mentions of death/dying, angst pairing: ghost!billy the kid x fem reader author’s note: tagging @kellielovesmovies <3 and @these-travels <3 because we talked about doing more ghost billy!! Enjoy! Pinterest Board Spotify Playlist

"Have you ever seen the ocean?"

Billy turned his head to look at you, and his breath would have hitched if he had any left. The sunlight reflecting off your skin gave you a glow that was nearly angelic, and for a moment he was sure the higher powers had come for him after all. You blinked, nuzzling your head into the crook of your elbow where it lay, and he wished it was his arm there instead. Holding his girl. The way it should be.

He shook his head, shifting on his side. "When my family crossed to get here I did. But I don't remember much. Was a long time ago."

Your lips puckered just slightly, and he longed to touch his own to them. "I've always wanted to see it but I've never been."

Imagining you in the backdrop of ocean spray, sand sticking to your soaked feet, Billy smiled. "You'd fit right in."

With a giggle like bells, you looked back at the sky, your ever-present smile soft as spring's first rain. The grass framed you perfectly, making a soft bed that Billy didn't deem near good enough. Once again he tried to will his body solid. There was no need for a beating heart or blood siphoning through his veins. He only wanted to hold you.

Death made life feel like a distant memory. The more time Billy spent with you, the more painfully clear the difference between existing and living became. Consciousness was a curse, carried out by the remnants of him left like a half-eaten dinner. Maybe somebody had forgotten to take the final step and bring him wherever those he had known in life were. Or maybe they were lingering too, in different pockets of time's fabric. He had certainly never come across anyone like this.

Maybe you had been the only one who bothered to see. Or care. Either way, he had been revealed to you, the veil separating life and death lifting for a quick second so he could escape. And you were there to see it.

You spent a great deal of time at the cemetery, keeping him company. Often you would lie on the grass with a book and read to him, the passages you picked from between hundreds of pages only enhancing the complexity of your beauty.

It was natural he would fall in love with you. In the beginning he had felt it coming, a universal fact already set in motion. It was almost cruel, and he wondered if perhaps his forced haunting hadn't been a mistake at all. He could be atoning for every sin committed in life in some new method of torture where he was made to think himself joyful.

It was delicate, his dormant love a cobweb formed over decades of starvation. An emotional ache he had resigned to live with for the rest of time. If he had known death was this impermanent, he never would have wished for it.

You rotated on your side to face him, eyes reminding him of daisies. Young and fresh and lovely, innocence shining through your new bloom. Billy's attention was immediately piqued, ready to absorb whatever you had to say, even if it was a single word.

"Have you ever left this place?" He smiled when you asked, wholly enraptured.

Sitting up, Billy leaned against his headstone. Unmarked, unnamed, only the year he died carved crudely into the rounded shape. It made a good resting spot for you some days, though, and he was happy some facet of him was able to do so. "Not for a long time."

"Why not?" you asked, propping yourself up next to him, chin on the heels of your palms. The image of you was so painfully adorable that he had to pause before speaking.

"I dunno," he shrugged, looking at his boots. "It seems odd, but I've never thought of it."

"Never?" You tilted your head.

"I've never had a reason." He half-smiled. "You're the first person I've talked to in a century, sweetheart."

Something softened in your eyes at the term of endearment, and he was now making plans to call you it over and over just to see that look. "You never had wanderlust?"

Billy moved his hand so it was flat on the ground next to yours, pinkies nearly touching. "I wandered so much when I was alive, it must've just burnt out."

Somehow, he couldn't read the look on your face, as though your thoughts at the moment were in another language. He wished more than ever right now that he could draw you into his arms, maybe rest a hand at the crown of your head. There were so many things he desired, and you were at the center of each one as he orbited hopelessly.

He'd never had a sweetheart before. Through every misdeed and trial thrown under his feet and scratching his arms like thorns, he'd never found anybody. Further, he never expressed the desire, not out loud.

Love was always considered a luxury. He'd observed it plainly with his mother and father, witnessed the lengths it traveled and the way it grew to fit the space of new circumstances. But his parents had been good people, trying to make an honest living. He never thought love was meant for men like him.

But without survival on the line, what else was there to think of? There wasn't anything else to exist for, especially when the woman in question was you.

Without physical feelings, Billy ran on pure emotion. It was an energy of its own that replaced what his blood must have done. For so long it had been justified sorrow, but now it was something else. Something he didn't even want to think of because it was so out of the question.

He was a ghost. You were alive. Nothing more needed to be said.

Stretching your arms with a little hum, you shut your eyes and let your hair fall to the side, over your shoulder. He watched it cascade like a waterfall, wishing for the millionth time he could brush it from your eyes. "You know, you could travel if you wanted to. See everything you want to." Opening your eyes, you smiled at him with a little glimmer that lifted his spirits. "You could see the ocean and remember it better this time."

Billy wouldn't tell you what he was thinking. That the only way that desire would enter him is if he could do it with you. See that adorable look of astonishment when you tasted salt water for the first time.

He didn't let his thoughts go any further than that. Instead of saying it, he smiled. "You'll have to see it for me, darlin'."

You looked up at him, resting your cheek on the cool stone of his headstone. If he imagined it right, your ear was on his heart instead of a monument to his death. His girl. In his dreams you were his girl.

Months since you'd first seen him, when he'd expected you to be frightened but instead you were kind. Ghost or outlaw, it seemed any time he was given was to be spent unconventionally. Based on your reaction, it was easy to imagine you in the context of his time. Maybe you never would have judged him the way everyone else did.

A shock of warmth coursed through his spectral being when you simply said, "Your time didn't end when you died."

It echoed, bouncing off the cemetery gates long after you left for the night.

Everything except Billy's existence was glaringly temporary.

He had long accepted the fact that his fate was to stand still, frozen as an unseen relic of time while the world hurtled forward into a future he couldn't have imagined. Regretting his legacy, coming to terms with the fact that he was existing in a space where he couldn't change anything.

Long had he wondered of this purpose. Whether it be by punishment or pity, he was immoveable. And now more than ever it was becoming glaringly obvious that you weren't.

"Long day," you sighed one evening, flopping down next to him. He reached for your hand, wincing as his hand passed through like you were water. But when he made a move to pull it back, you shook your head, half smiling briefly. "Keep it there. It feels nice."

Billy smiled, turning to the side to look at you as you began to chatter, playing with a rogue strand of hair. "I got some news today."

"Good news?" he asked, and you smiled tightly, still anxiously fidgeting.

"An opportunity to travel. And go to school," you went on softly. "In London."

London. There was a pang in his chest. "That's incredible, sweetheart." Billy lowered his head to meet your eyes, where you were staring at the ground. "You've worked hard."

There was that half-smile again. "Thank you." He could see something brewing in you like a storm on the horizon, but didn't press. If you wanted to tell him you would.

After a beat of silence, you whispered, "I was excited about it. It would get me away from home." Billy's thoughts conjured the one time you had told him about your parents. About your mother's passing, and how your father had married a woman who hardly regarded you. He couldn't help but sympathize, thinking of his own mother and the cruel man she'd been forced to wed. The idea of you in that kind of situation kicked his protective instincts in, and it hurt that there wasn't a thing for him to do about it.

Billy nodded, searching your gaze. "You should be."

"And they have an amazing arts program."

"Of course."

"And it's beautiful- I've always wanted to go there." You were staring at him now. "The ocean is close. Closer than it is here."

He smiled. "It is."

Your eyes stayed on him, and he looked right back. It felt like you were trying to tell him something, but he refused to pry at it. Slowly, the corners of your lips turned down as something was defeated within. Without another word you breathed out, leaning down and resting your head in his lap. To his dismay, your head went right through his thighs, landing on the soft earth below.

Neither of you commented. He hovered a hand over the outline of your head, pretending to stroke your hair.

In the next weeks, you didn't broach the topic of school again, instead returning to your regular graveyard activities. Talking to him and smiling as if he was something extraordinary. Picking flowers that grew nearby and braiding them together, leaving them in little bouquets sagging at the base of his tombstone. He memorized every bit of you and tried to piece it together in the hours you weren't there, an endless puzzle.

The beginning of the end was impending, kicking up dust. He could feel it in his being, filling the space where his bones used to be. It wove marrow and tendons out of feelings, creating a whole other entity for him to inhabit. There was no end to Billy's endings.

You were lying side by side with him now, hair spread out like a halo over your head. When you opened your mouth, he heard it before you spoke.

"I'm going to school in London."

Billy let it stretch and consume him, show him what would never be. This was a routine. This was not new. "I'm happy you are. You're gonna do great, sweetheart."

Somberly, you whispered, "I leave in two weeks. To get adjusted to the new country."

He was quiet, just watching your expression. You were holding yourself together and he didn't know why.

Then in a quiet burst, a tear slipped from your eye, leaving a path on your cheek as it trickled down like rain on a windowpane. "Billy I don't want to leave you."

It hit him like something earthshattering. The shot that had ended his life hadn't collided the same way this did, with a force that came from somewhere in the folds of existence, somewhere Billy didn't understand. He sat up, reaching a hand out. "Sweetheart-"

"Tell me not to leave," you whispered, and he froze, watching another tear cross your cheek. "I won't leave if you want me to stay."

"You have to go," he said, shaking his head and getting to his knees, searching your eyes. "This is your dream. You have to do it."

"But I don't wanna go," you sniffled, reaching for a strand of hair and twisting it between your fingers. "Billy..."

"Hey," he breathed, hands over your elbows. "Sweetie, I'm always gonna be right here. And the time we've spent together's enough for me. I want you to live."

"I love you," you managed through your tears, lower lip trembling.

Billy shut his eyes, chin dipping. The fingers of melancholy were seizing him in a way that kicked everything that had ever mattered to the side. Your tears were multiplying, and they were of such a quality that he swore they were what dotted the sky every night. Stardust...that was what you were. Unreal. For him, untouchable.

He risked a look back up at you. You, whom he'd imagined as his for so long. But you weren't because he couldn't have anything anymore. The only thing Billy possessed was a sliver of humanity enclosed as an idea. He didn't even have a heart to give to you.

But there was nothing in him for the truth to hide behind. It was transparent as he was. "I love you too."

You took in a shaky breath. Billy knew right then that for the rest of time he would be committed wholeheartedly to you. You were the only thing in this wretched world worth anything. Tension heightening like a string pulled taut, you surged forward in a single motion, arms encircling his shoulders, pressing your mouth to his.

Warm. It had been so long since he'd been warm. But you were. Between his arms, encasing whatever was left of him in the gift of your body. He hardly registered the sensation of being kissed until you pulled back, breaths leaving your prettily parted lips in quick bursts.

Kissed. He had been kissed. He had kissed you.

"I didn't think that would work," you confessed quietly, and in a natural move, he reached up and brushed a strand of hair from your eyes, something jolting in him when his fingers didn't pass through.

Billy shook his head, drawing you in by the waist and touching his lips to yours gently, relishing the sensation of you melting under his touch. He wouldn't dare try anything else, this new allowance precarious. Who knew if it would be taken away from him? Your hand found the collar of his shirt, just holding it as his nose bumped your soft cheek. Soft...he could feel that you were soft. Just as he'd imagined.

Conscious of your need to breathe, he separated himself from you, just a little. The last of your tears escaped, and he thumbed them away, not wanting to let go now that he had the option. You whispered, "I can't leave. I love you."

The chasm within him began to open again, and he could see the way it could have gone. Past and present and future. Every version of you and him spun until they disappeared into nothingness, leaving reality standing still, a tower of his own making. A structure he couldn't tear down if he tried.

He breathed, "I love you and that's why you have to leave."

The curtains of the summer were drawn shut, and sometimes Billy wondered if any of it had ever been real. He loved you too much to make you stay, to leave you hanging off the whim of a dead man with nothing to give forever.

He wished you hated him. It would be easier for you to leave.

Any writing on the wall was faint, and he'd been unsure if you'd go through with it. But after the day you were set to leave marched by without so much as a glimpse of you, he bowed his head and thanked whoever was above. Guilt would have tainted everything if you had stayed. He would rather love you miserably than be responsible for the end of another life, especially yours.

Time went back to how it was before. Boundless and brutal. Billy existed in the plane of memories, staring at the sky and letting it consume him.

He hoped for many things. That you would love it when you got there and forget all about him. That you would fall in love because everyone should fall in love with you.

Most of all, he hoped you would never return. He hoped whatever had tethered you to this place would unravel and blow away, off to some far away corner of the earth where you couldn't reach.

Regret tainted him oftentimes, and he wondered if he could leave like you had said. Go find you wherever you were and remind you that even the dead were enchanted by you.

Billy imagined sometimes what would have happened if you stayed. If maybe when you loved him so closely he would have eventually become whole again, not quite alive but not a ghost any longer. Physical. Worthy. Maybe it would have been proof to whoever had damned him this way. He was alive so long as he was loved. It could have been his second chance. The one leniency he'd snuck in the margins of his death's contract.

He let that dream rot with his body, buried in the earth below.

#billy the kid #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid fanfiction #billy the kid x you #billy the kid 2022 #billy the kid imagine #billy the kid fic #billy the kid fluff #william h bonney x reader #william h bonney fanfiction #william h bonney x you #william h bonney imagine #billy bonney x reader #billy bonney fluff #ghost billy #milliesfishes billy #Spotify

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famwhy · 1 year ago

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Right Way Up (04)

Stranger Things

Yandere! Steve Harrington X F!Reader, Yandere! Eddie Munson X F!Reader, Yandere! Billy Hargrove X F!Reader

Synopsis: You always hated when your favourite characters died in shows or movies; always longed to have the opportunity to save them. So when you're transported into one of your favourite shows of all time, what else are you supposed to do besides save your beloved characters?

Warnings: Threat/violence, Gore, Mentions of sexual content (implicit), Death, Manipulation, Depictions of toxic relationships, Drugs and alcohol abuse

Note: omg guys, I came across an account that said their current favourite fic was this one in their bio. I'm acc so happy, tysm

prev part. masterlist.

04. bring unto me peculiarity

trait: e.m.

YOU blinked, jaw hung open and muscles tense as her grip around you tightened—constricting your movements and clogging your airways. Though, breathing was the least of your concerns when it came to tight hugs at the moment, not when you had your dumb arm to worry about.

As if on cue, a sharp rupture of pain spiked your side, and you winced, grunting a little before sucking a breath in through your teeth and asking—albeit with scrunched up features—"...sorry, do I know you?"

"Wha—?" She pulled away at that, and the look she gave you—oh, the look she gave you—it was full of heartbreak, emotional turmoil spanning as far as the eye could see. "It's me, baby, it's mommy."

"Mom?"

You thought you didn't have a mother.

"Yes, baby, it's me. It's mom." She smiled, pupils shaking in—and you could be wrong about this, but—what seemed like... desperation?

What's up with that?

And, if this lady really was your mother, where the hell had she been all these days?

"Y/N? The hell is taking so—?"

A strange sense of déjà vu drenched your form as your eyes followed the new voice, landing on the slightly-parted lips and wide, almost-disbelieving eyes of your second oldest brother—hands still covered by the huge, red gloves he often adorned.

Then, his features scrunched up—though, it wasn't like yours had just done—no—his were harder, more purposeful; his were clouded in a storm consisting purely of loathing so unadulterated, you had half a mind to think he was staring—no, glaring—into the form of his worst enemy.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" And as he spoke, venom spat out of his mouth, launching itself straight onto the woman still loosely holding you and causing her face to scrunch up in a pained wince. "Shouldn't you be on one of your fucking five-year-long business trips?"

"Oh honey—"

His glare grew sharper. "Don't call me that."

"I..." she trailed off and you blinked, helpless to the scene that was playing out right before your very eyes.

"I don't know what the fuck got into you but you can't just waltz in here like..." his face scrunched up, brows furrowing as he paused the sentence for one... two... three seconds before continuing, spite still as prevalent as ever, "like you belong!"

You watched as her face dropped even further at that—the barely visible bags under her eyes looking about ten times worse than they did before.

Now, you had no idea what type of past you were meant to have shared with this woman—how horrible it truly was—but surely someone who greeted you so warmly at the door couldn't be too bad?

So with that thought in mind, you narrowed your eyes by the slightest amount—a little... hesitantly—before lightly scolding, "Hey. Curt, maybe tone it down a little?"

His attention averted from the woman—hateful, dark eyes that were once throwing daggers her way, now unapologetically directed towards you. "'Tone it down a little'? Do you hear yourself, Y/N? That woman missed almost every single birthday of yours! Every. Single. One!"

Alright, so, you didn't usually consider yourself to be much of a coward, but being the recipient of that deadly gaze was enough to make you yield just this once—both of your hands flying up to rest in the air beside your head. Hey, you tried, he just didn't listen.

Besides, you were only a mere bystander in this squabble anyway. Sure, you felt bad for the woman, but not bad enough to get socked in the face by a boxer for her.

...okay, now you just sounded like a jerk.

Feeling your heart tighten slightly, you shook your head to rid yourself of those awful, intrusive thoughts and parted your lips in an attempt to redeem yourself.

Keyword: attempt.

Before even a word could breeze past your tongue, another voice entered the fray—one a lot more grounded than any other you'd heard since you opened the door—"What the hell is with all this—? Mom?"

You tilted your head just enough to catch the approaching form of your oldest brother—his figure growing with each step he took—and the closer he grew, the clearer his facial expression became.

His brows were furrowed, but instead of the hostile way that Curt's were, his were more... well, confused?—shocked, perhaps?—or maybe a better word for it would be baffled? Either/or, he didn't look like he was terribly upset with her appearance, further grinding your theory of her not being that bad into reality.

"What are you doing here?"

"I just thought that—" the sudden lack of warmth around your arms had your head whipping back, eyes watching as the same fingers that were once wrapped around you, now awkwardly rubbed the woman's other limb, "—maybe it was about time I spent some quality time with you all?"

Before you could even register what she had said—Curt's voice hastily cut through the air; a tone of finality you hadn't heard him use before laced so deeply within it, "Too little too late."

Though—if you were being entirely honest—you were starting to tune it out—all of it: the apologies, the confusion, the arguing; all of it. A familiar sense of surrealism washed over you as you witnessed the events unfold; as you watched their mouths move soundlessly—your new brothers seemingly arguing with a woman who held the looks of your mother but seemed to act nothing like her.

It was weird, strange. You weren't even sure how to feel. From the looks of things, this... mother of yours seemed to not be around much—and one of your brothers hated her for it, while the other merely seemed to... well, you weren't entirely sure what he felt yet. Hell, you didn't even know what you were supposed to feel.

Should you be sad? Mad? Indifferent?—'cause that's what you felt right now. This world wasn't even meant to have you in it at all. There was no character named Y/N who looked exactly like you and had two older brothers with a seemingly neglectful mother and who-knows-what-happened-to-him father.

Even if you wanted to copy the mannerisms of the Y/N belonging to this world, you couldn't because there wasn't one. She didn't exist.

How the hell were you supposed to react?

You could've asked yourself that question a billion more times, but the sudden rush of air that hit your face crashed you straight back to reality—just in time too, for not even moments later, an abrupt 'slam!' echoed from behind.

Confused, your gaze found Cain's.

"Give him some time. He's probably off to go fuck some chick and get his mind off this."

Slowly, you nodded.

Then, you heard it; the sound of her voice continuing to speak behind you with that broken lilt—the one she just couldn't seem to drop—laced so deeply in her tone.

"I'm so sorry, babies." The woman—your mother—reached out, and you felt her fingers graze you again, "I'm so so sorry."

"It's... alright, mom," Cain responded before you could—voice seeming almost... hesitant, "It's all good."

There was no chatter after that—not a single sound escaped their lips. That was your cue; your cue to either condemn her down to hell or forgive her for this supposed neglect you weren't even around to experience.

"Sweetie..." her voice was shaky—desperate, no doubt, and seeking the forgiveness of a daughter that didn't even belong to her, "please..."

"Uh..." you weren't sure what it was, but something was holding you back from saying anything; from doing something—

—and it looked like she noticed that too.

"It's okay, I understand..."

She seems a bit... what's the word?

With hands that were once hopefully clasped around one another, now pitifully falling by her sides, and eyes that seemed to droop just a tad bit more despite the small, ingenuine quirk of her lips upwards; her whole demeanour almost screamed...

Ah. Forlorn.

Your chest felt heavy at the sight—tight and weighed down. Some type of... guilt was it? ebbed away at you. Though you didn't know why—it wasn't like she was your real mother, after all. In fact, she was a complete stranger to you; someone who you wouldn't even bother sondering over if you passed her by on the street.

How strange.

"Y/N," the soft call of your name caused your ears to perk up, and you turned to your remaining brother, "C'mon, you're due for a change."

"A change?" You tilted your head, eyes still not all there—at least, not until—

"Your bandages."

"Ohhh."

To be honest, you completely forgot about that.

"Bandages?" From the looks of things, though, your mother couldn't pass it off as easily as you. "For what?"

Immediately, Cain's eyes locked with yours—his hues swirling with a query you were able to decipher pretty easily: 'Should we tell her?'

Should you? Well, the fact that he had to ask that question in the first place was concerning, to say the least. Maybe you'd hold off on telling her for now. Just for now. Nothing permanent.

Mind made up and eyes stopping at nothing to avoid her own, you told your mother, "Don't worry about it, it's all good."

Her lips turned down, shoulders sagging and gaze falling to the floor like a glossy river over the edge of a cliff; swift and hopeless to anything wishing to stop it.

She looked so... so...

Defeated.

"Ah, okay."

You wished you could say you forgave her—you desperately prayed to—but how could you when the words refused to come out of your throat?—when they relentlessly fought with your tongue to the point they immobilised it and unfairly rendered you incapable of speech?

You could have stood there hopelessly staring at her for hours if you so wished, but the small tug on your wrist averted your gaze, and you found yourself staring at the loosened expression of your other kin.

"Let's get you wrapped up, Y/N."

You nodded.

He then took to guiding you towards the kitchen, and the whole way there, your gaze didn't leave your mother's form—watching as her figure grew smaller with each step—shorter with each breath—before completely disappearing around the corner.

"Don't feel bad."

Your ears perked up—head turning to face your older brother.

"'Bout mom," he continued, not particularly looking your way, "She hasn't been around for most of our lives, you're allowed to not forgive her."

"What about you?" You asked, "You didn't sound too sure of forgiving her yourself."

He paused.

"I..."—a rough 'ahem'—"I'm trying to."

You tilted your head. "Trying to?"

"It's..." He trailed off and furrowed his brows, as if searching for something in his mind, before continuing, "hard. Really hard. To look after people—I mean. Especially on your own."

It was your turn to furrow your brows, lips tugging down as you took in his words and really—well—thought for a good second.

It was clear that he was trying his best to be empathetic; to sympathise with her situation. And who better than him? You didn't have to be a genius to decipher the fact that he had been the one to take care of both you and Curt for pretty much the majority of your—supposed—'life'. He probably had to grow up a lot faster than 'you' would've. In that case, he could relate to her.

But, on the other hand...

"It's not fair."

"Huh?" He turned your way, blinking twice.

"To compare yourself to her," you continued, lips still curved down, "You're completely different. While she never bothered to be around, you did. You learned how to cook, clean—hell, maybe even change diapers—"

"Maybe even? You were a little shit and you know it—"

Shit, he changed your diapers too? You were just trying to be dramatic but damn.

"Okay—" that came off a little more exasperated than you wanted and clearly he could sense it too, judging by the way he snickered right after, little shit, "—my point is, you were there and she wasn't. And it's not even your responsibility to take care of us. I get that she has her supposed 'five-year-long' business trips, but she could've made time for us. You're her son too, you're allowed to be mad that she wasn't there."

He stayed silent for a few moments, and you found your hands naturally drifting down—fingers digging into your skirt harshly; anxiously. Sweat gathered on your brow and anticipation ate at your insides, chipping away at your organs and clogging your brain with worry; worry for the elongated silence that greeted your words.

Had you said something wrong? Was he going to snap at you?

Goodbye, cruel world, remember—

A chuckle.

Your ears perked up and your eyes widened in disbelief.

"And here I thought I was the one meant to be cheering you up." His shoulders bounced in a pattern you could only describe as uneven, one hand rising up to swipe at his eye.

The sight caused your muscles to loosen up, fingers losing their grip on your skirt and eyes crinkling fondly as you watched him reach up into an open cupboard—arm disappearing within the confines before reappearing not long after with a red, rectangular bag.

The sound of a zip was the next thing you heard—accompanied by his voice as he said, "Alright, let's get you all patched up, worm."

You scrunched up your nose. "Worm?"

"Yeah, annoying little things, aren't they?"

"Rude."

Another snicker had your lips quirking up again, a swirl of warmth gathering in your chest; a hint of fondness and pride. Was this how sibling banter felt?

It's... nice.

Before you could enjoy the moment any longer though, your brain just had to ruin it, giving you a thought that had your ears falling again—stomach dropping into a bottomless pit within the confines of your body.

"Is..." you started, and his ears perked up from behind the arm that slowly tugged at the grey gauze, "Is Curt gonna be okay?"

A scoff. "Yeah. You know him, he'll be super bitchy about it but he'll come running back tomorrow morning so don't worry."

You smiled. "So long as he's—ow! Watch it!"

"My bad."

"You did that on purpose."

"I did that on purpose."

"Asshole."

"D'aww, is wittle sissy's feewings hurt?"

"Shut up, you dick!"

You took it back, sibling banter was so not nice.

But, at least it was somewhat fun—unlike what happened next.

"Sweeties?" You tensed, head turning as Cain backed away—the warmth of his hand leaving you with new, pure white gauze around your arm—and turned with you. "I'm gonna head out for the night and go meet up with some old friends. Are you two going to be okay?"

Maybe if you were actually part of this world, you would've said something petty like 'nothing new there' or 'you've already not been around for most of my life, what's one more night?'—but, you weren't, and so settled with a good old fashioned—"We'll be fine,"—instead.

She was out the door in no less than two seconds.

It quickly grew dark following that—night approaching faster than you could register—and there had yet to be any sign of Curt. Guess Cain was right when he said the younger of the two would be back in the morning.

Speaking of Cain, he had some last minute call from a client regarding car troubles. Apparently, they were stranded and in dire need of assistance, so Cain was required to go to them in order to help—though, he was quite reluctant as he, no doubt, voiced to you.

"Oh my god, Cain, I'll be fine." You rolled your eyes.

"Are you sure? This street isn't exactly known for safety," he responded, expression scrunched up with what you recognised as pure worry.

"God, you're just like Steve. Nothing will happen, don't worry."

When the corner of his lips quirked up in response to your words, you felt something akin to dread claw at your innards. "Oh, I'm just like Steve, am I?"

"Shut up, he has a girlfriend," you were saying that more to yourself than him, to be honest.

"Yeah, that he drops anytime you're within two feet of him."

"I swear to god, Cain."

He snickered.

"Just go! I know you're doing this just to stall, go find that poor person stranded by the phone booth!"

"Okay, okay, I'm going."

And as his shoulders kept jerking up and down, your hand found purchase against the bumpy texture of your wooden door before pushing at full force; a 'slam!' echoing not long after.

"Stupid piece of shit," you grumbled, though, not genuinely.

...okay, maybe just a little genuinely actually, 'cause now he put the stupid thought in your head; the stupid thought of Steve Harrington actually liking you.

Preposterous.

He probably just thought of you as a really close friend—he supposedly knew you since childhood, after all, of course he would value you over Nancy sometimes.

But... theoretically, say he felt more, what would it be like?

Would he hold your hand and pull you in close? Whisper sweet nothings into your ear as you lay against him in the dead of night?—sinking into his warmth and stuffing your face in his sturdy chest. Would his lips feel soft against the bare skin of your neck?—passionate and sublime as he marked you up as his own, going lower and lower and—

Three knocks against your door.

Ugh.

"Oh my god, Cain, how many times—? Nancy?"

Lo and behold, there stood the very girlfriend of the guy you were just fantasising about.

Honestly, you would've thought it awkward had you not caught a glimpse of her expression; just a glance long enough to bleed you dry of all your previous thoughts and scrunch your face up as a whole new set rushed in—worrisome ones.

Her eyes were bloodshot, red veins visible and bringing out the puffiness to a degree that had your heart clenching and your lips subconsciously parting open to ask, "Are you alright?"

She gulped, voice shaky as she responded with, "Can I come in?"

Slowly, you nodded—palm pushing against the door just enough to allow it to fall slightly more ajar.

"Here, come sit." You gestured to the couch, hands hesitantly ghosting over her shoulders as you guided her there—watching as she gently sat down, the cotton shifting under her weight. "Can I get you anything?"

She didn't respond: head tilted down, shoulders drooped, and overall demeanour looking to be completely put-off. The poor thing.

You figured a cup of water would be fine, she looked like she needed it.

What was she doing here, anyway? From what you gathered based on the very few interactions you'd had with her, the two of you weren't very close. Why, then, would she suddenly show up at your door so late at night?

Those thoughts plagued your mind as you made your way over to the kitchen—bare feet numb to the cool of the floor. They haunted you as you reached for a cup with one hand and twisted the tap with the other—fingers unfeeling of the pressure that rained upon them. They consumed your entire being until you were left with nothing but the husk of a person on autopilot—quietly making your way back to the living room.

It was only when your eyes landed on her form again, that you snapped out of it in a small burst of surprise.

Gone was the once sat-down figure with an air of dismay clouding her form—replaced, instead, by one that stood up straight, brows furrowed and shoulders tensed as she paced back and forth vigorously. Keyword: paced—she stopped as soon as you arrived, much to your own confusion.

"Nancy, what are you—?"

"You're thinking about Barb too, right?"

She looked you dead in the eyes, and you almost found yourself growing fidgety under her intense gaze.

"What?"

"It's just that..." she trailed off, faltering for a moment, "well, Steve mentioned you've been acting off lately—"

Shit. Steve was catching on.

"—and I was wondering if... it was bothering you too."

You blinked, parting your lips to ask for a little more—for some sort of elaboration—but her voice continued before you even had a chance.

"I mean, it's dumb that we have to keep this whole thing a secret!" She exclaimed, hands making wild gestures now. "Her family deserves to know."

You stood there, blinking in a daze that hadn't quite passed since the moment she arrived. It felt like you had just wandered into a confusing maze, with twists and turns spanning as far as the eye could see; each one riddled with its own set of confusing obstacles you couldn't quite wrap your head around.

On one hand, Nancy's words made sense, you saw why she felt that way—you heard her—and it was so much more prominent in person than over a screen.

On the other hand, as a viewer of the show and a victim of unfortunate circumstance, you hadn't a clue where she was going with this. You knew why she was telling you all of this (you were acting strange and she was feeling off so duh she would try and see if you related) but, where was she going with it? What did she want with you? Surely it wasn't just comfort.

"Do you... want to come with me to tell her parents?"

Ah. There it was.

She wanted you to join her. This was certainly quite the twist. Everything that had happened up until now had alluded to the fact that you were going to join Steve for this season—and to be honest, you preferred that over this.

Besides, she was meant to do all of this with Jonathan—if you said yes, you'd just be getting in the way of their romance and, ergo, the plot itself.

"I don't know..." you started, mind already made up but heart trying its best to ease her into it, "the government wouldn't really like that and we could get in a ton of trouble."

She scoffed. "Who gives a fuck what they think?"

You deadpanned. "Well, Nance, they are kinda the government so..."

"There's this guy," she started, cutting you off and handing you a card, "Barb's parents told me about him—if things don't work out, we can go to him."

Sure enough, you recognised the character as soon as she mentioned him—another prominent adult within the series, quite the funny one too. But, not funny enough for you to pass up spending this season helping out Steve instead.

"Look, Nancy, I—"

You were cut off when her gaze hardened, fists clenching and head shaking from side-to-side—almost seeming disappointed.

"God, you're just like him." And when she spoke, it was bitter—plagued with an icky green—"You two are perfect for each other."

The following events happened too quickly for you to register; one second, she was standing before you with desperation clear on her visage—the next?—she had snatched the card right out from your hands and stormed over to your front door, steps heavy and quaking and loud.

"Nance, wait! Nancy!"

A slam.

Well shit.

You bit your lip, brain replaying the events that had just occurred in too rapid of a succession for you to be able to even respond to them.

A small voice prodded at the back of your mind, lulling you into following after her and clearing up... whatever the hell that was.

However, a much larger, more prominent voice said, fuck it. Because—well, you were in Stranger Things for god's sake! Who the hell cared about some teen drama when there were fucking monsters to worry about?—monsters that you sure as hell weren't about to face weaponless.

Nancy could get over whatever was bothering her so much on her own, you had bigger issues to worry about.

Come on, Y/N, get your head out of the clouds and into the game.

Resolve strengthened and distractions now temporarily at the back of your mind, your feet bounded towards a familiar box mounted onto the wall, fingers wrapping around the cool metal before you punched in a number you had long since memorised over your time in this world.

Turned out, this drama was just the push you needed.

"Harrington residence."

"Steve."

It was silent for a few seconds before you were graced with a response. "Y/N? If you're calling about the dinner at Barb's, I swear—"

"No, no. It's not that, don't worry."

Another pause.

"Are you... okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Don't worry about me."

"You sure? You sound a little... tense."

Your lips quirked up. "You can tell?"

"Well, yeah. I've known you since like, birth."

Leave it to Steve Harrington to put a smile on your face where there wasn't one before.

Seriously though, you might not have actually known him since birth but... something about him noticing how you felt from just the sound of your voice made you feel all... tingly inside—like a warm cloud of pure pink coated you within its comfy confines.

"Y/N? You there?"

"Oh." You jolted, fingers halting in their ministrations with the phone wire, since when did you start twirling it around? "Uh, yeah. I just called to let you know I'm skipping tomorrow so don't bother picking me up, okay?"

"You're skipping? What? Why?"

"Just—uh, don't feel like it."

"You know you've already missed seven days, right?"

"Yeah—" you shrugged as though he could see you, "—what's a couple more?"

"...alright, if that's what you want."

"Thanks Stevie, you're the best, love you!"

You slammed the phone back into the wall before he could respond, but you imagined he released quite the long sigh after your words.

Nevermind that though, you should probably head to bed—you had a long day ahead of you tomorrow; one consisting of many preparations for the challenges that lay ahead.

First things first, you needed yourself a weapon—and no, a wrench was not ideal. You got lucky the first time, you'd rather not risk it the second.

A gun; long reach, high chances of actually killing, probably easy to use—it sounded perfect. Just the thing you'd need. The only problem you could possibly see was...

...how would you get one?

You weren't terribly familiar with gun laws—never had the need to look into them—but even if you were, they definitely changed since the 80s so you were pretty much clueless in that regard.

You could ask one of your brothers if they had one, they certainly seemed like the type—at least, Curt definitely did.

Or maybe he's the type to only fight with his fists?

Tricky—that's what this all was. So tricky, in fact, that the rest of the night was spent contemplating how you would go about obtaining the lethal weapon—

—actually, that wasn't entirely true; you sure wished it was though. Unfortunately for you however, your brain rather stupidly refused to focus on the task at hand, randomly flushing you with thoughts of both your... mother and Nancy whenever you least expected it, two huge pieces of drama that you—quite frankly—didn't feel like dealing with.

But apparently, pushing them to the back of your mind was easier said than done.

Come next morning, you figured indulging in those thoughts wouldn't be too big of a headache after being well-rested with a nice cup of coffee to aid you through your day.

Okay, so, Nancy's behaviour last night wasn't too strange; she had that dinner at Barb's—one you knew she cried at since they dedicated a whole scene to her sobbing in the bathroom. That explained why she was quick to jump to aggression you guessed.

Still, it was strange how she snapped at you (basically her acquaintance) like how she had done Steve (her literal boyfriend) in the show. Did you get something wrong? Were you two closer than you thought you were? Perhaps you had some history with her you weren't aware of.

Unfortunately, until you had more information, you were gonna have to leave that trail of thought.

Now, about your mother...

"Morning, sis."

You nodded—eyes clouded—before responding with, "Morning Cain," and then, as if just registering who you were talking to after their name spilled from your lips, your eyes cleared up and you turned to continue with a much more firm voice, "Hey, do you know if we have any guns at home?"

He paused, one hand rested against the handle of the fridge, one floating mid-air. "Guns?"

"Yeah, guns."

He turned to you fully now, eyes narrowing and sturdy arms folding over his chest as the door shut behind him. "Why would you need to know where the guns are?"

The lie was quick to form on your tongue. "For self-defence, duh."

"Uh-huh."

"Please Cain—" you clasped both hands over each other, "—I promise I won't hurt anyone with them."

Not anyone human, at least.

"You do realise they're made for hurting people, right?"

"Yeah, but I won't use them that way."

He deadpanned. "You're not getting a gun."

"Dammit."

Okay, this was fine. You could work with this. He just confirmed to you that you did, in fact, have guns in this house. All you had to do was look for them. And you knew just where to start.

"Uh, where the hell are you going?"

You paused, hand grazing the bumpy, wooden rail as you tilted your head just enough to peek into the kitchen again. "To my room, where else?"

"Don't you have school?"

"Don't you have a job?"

He crossed his arms again. "You're not skipping, shitbird."

"What?"

"I said: you aren't skipping."

Your eyes widened, jaw dropping open and stomach falling with the spoilt remains of your plan—the ashes and dust piling up enough to cause you to splutter and ask, "You serious?"

His gaze was stern, holding no hint of that playful demeanour you acquainted yourself with last night, "Completely. No playing hooky. You've already got enough absents from that injury of yours."

As if suddenly reminded of its own existence, said wound sent a shock down your arm—trailing through your veins to usher a visible wince on your face.

Before you could say anything else though—plead your case and hope to god he'd let you off—his eyes widened a little, mouth forming a circle before he spoke again, saying, "That's why Harrington ain't here, right? You told him you were skipping?"

You said nothing.

A long, highly exasperated sigh. "Just go get ready, I'll drop you off."

He didn't have to tell you twice.

You rushed up the stairs, wasting no time to burst into a room flooded with posters—all holding different expressions with one, huge thing in common; a pair of bright red gloves.

If anyone had a gun, it was definitely Curt.

Tick. Tock. You were on a time constraint so you had to be quick with this. Anything that even remotely seemed to have enough space to hold a gun inside was instantly ripped open—hinges jingling and wood slamming against wood as your hands scurried the area—rummaged through the masses—desperately seeking what they had yet to find.

That was—until, now.

In the midst of multiple hung up pieces of soft materials shrouded in darkness, your fingers grazed something cold and solid; rough and bumpy. Slowly they wound around the thing, noting its shape, before exerting a force—a tug.

Nothing. It didn't budge.

You tried again, pushing this time.

Again. Nothing.

Third time's the charm.

This time, you pushed upwards.

Bingo.

As if by magic, it fell straight into your hands, and you wasted no time to pull it into the light.

Dark, L-shaped, and a lever poking out from one side—yup, there was no doubt about it. Though, it was one of the weaker variants of the lethal weapon—it would have to do.

Now you could—

"What are you doing in my room?"

Curt. Shit.

"Scratch that—what are you doing with a gun?!"

Your wrist was seized at the entrance before you could even attempt to sneak past—his E/C eyes trained on the object in your hand, not at all paying attention to the way your expression shifted into one of unease, smile twitching a little.

"Curt, hey! When did you come in..?"

"Doesn't matter," he dismissed, "Why do you have a gun? Is someone bothering you at school? You know you can say the word and I'll take care of it, right? Like in Freshman year?"

"Freshman year?" What happened in Freshman year?

"That dickhead Senior who kept picking on you? How did you forget that already?"

You parted your lips, an excuse practically begging to be released from your tongue, but he beat you to it.

"Nevermind, just tell me who it is and I'll take care of it. There's no need to bring a gun into it."

There's no need to bring a gun but it's totally okay beating them up? Some scuffed logic there.

"No one's bothering me, Curt. I uh, I just need it to kill the wolf that attacked me the other day."

He rose a brow. "Kill the wolf that attacked you the other day?"

"Uh... yup."

God, this was so stupid. What kind of excuse was that? 'Kill the wolf that attacked you the other day'? Yeah right.

"Atta girl. That's my sister."

A good excuse apparently—it was a good excuse.

You almost couldn't believe it—the way he pulled you in, wrapping his arm around your neck in a half-hug that almost made it seem as though he was proud of you.

Surely he had taken way too many hits to the head in his profession because you had no clue how he bought that.

But, you weren't complaining.

"Hey, uh, do me a favour?"

He rose a brow. "What?"

"Don't tell Cain, yeah?"

He rolled his eyes. "Of course not, he'd have my head in a heartbeat if he knew I was condoning this."

You grinned, just about ready to give him two thumbs up leaking gratitude and appreciation—when a voice called from downstairs.

"Y/N! Hurry up!"

"A few more minutes!"

That was your cue to go to your room.

Cool air hit your skin as soon as the cotton of your sleepwear was removed—the slight buzz of pain on your arm making itself known once more with another prick, annoying but not unbearable; not like before.

The new bandages looked better than the previous ones; cleaner. Some spots seemed to have given in—allowing red to seep through their snow-white sheets; stain their pure surface. Those parts were stickier than the others, but also, few and far between.

Damn, kinda looks badass.

"I'm not getting any younger here, Y/N!"

"I'm coming! Gheez."

What was that? His catchphrase or something?

With a roll of your eyes, you threw on a top, slipped into a skirt, very quickly touched up on your make-up, and ran down the steps. Nothing too elaborate—you didn't plan on actually going into school anyway.

What? You said you'd skip, so you were gonna skip. You'd just wait 'till he drove off or something.

Actually... this could work out better than you thought.

He was bringing you to school; where one Steve Harrington currently was. And you know what else was at school? Steve's BMW—AKA, the perfect place to store your gun until it was needed.

Yeah, this could work out perfectly.

"Get in, shitbird."

You said nothing, seizing the frigid handle like you had done many a time before, and climbing straight in.

The sky was bleak—the sun invisible; covered by the vast curtain of grey clouds that seemed uninteresting but, for some reason, you couldn't stop looking at.

The pistol you held was tucked under you—out of sight; though not of mind. It felt cool against your skin, sent a shudder through you, up your spine and through your nerves. It kept you rigid.

"I would've let you skip."

You turned, observing the way Cain's gaze stayed trained onto the road ahead, one hand on the wheel, one resting on his lap.

"On any normal circumstance," he continued, shrugging, "but y'know, mom's home and—I don't know if you wanna stick around for that."

"Okay."

"You good?" Now he gave you a bit of a side-eye, one brow raised.

"Yeah, just... thinking about what I'm gonna wear for the Halloween bash at Tina's."

That was a lie, you honestly couldn't care less.

"Party, huh?" He turned his gaze back ahead. "I remember the ragers I used to go to way back when."

"Must've been fun, huh fossil?"

"Watch it, worm."

You snickered.

"Alright, we're here. Get out before I make you."

Older brothers are a piece of work.

You shimmied in your seat, swinging both legs over to the open door, hand firmly around the handle of the weapon beneath your thighs, when—

"What are you doing?"

You froze. "Uh, I don't... I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're getting out of the car weirdly." His tone was pointed—suspicious—and even without having to turn around, you could tell his brow was raised in question.

"No I'm not."

"Uh, yeah you are."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

Slowly, you found yourself able to move your limbs again—annoyance bringing both them and your own brow to life, filtering out any previous fear within an instant. "Don't you have work or something?"

You heard nothing for a few tense moments—though soon, a curt—"Just go,"—made its way to your ears, and the weight on your shoulders was relieved of you.

Once again, you found yourself thinking, he didn't have to tell you twice.

The cool air almost felt relieving against your skin when you finally jumped out—the 'crunch!' of pebbles echoing beneath you—but nothing could compare to the pure amount of genuine solace you were graced with when the sound of the engine starting up again behind you danced into your ears; the sound of wheels skidding across the ground slowly growing farther.

That was a little too close for your liking.

No matter, it was time to find Steve's BMW. While looking for it, though, you might as well review your thoughts.

The events of Season 2 had already kicked off the moment you saw Billy, which meant that while you waited for the next canonical event to occur with the teens, the main group of kids were having their own scenes play out. You were sure by now they were off trying to befriend Billy's stepsister. But, quite frankly, that was irrelevant information to you.

What was relevant, however, was the fact that one of the kids—Dustin Henderson—would end up dragging Steve into quite the predicament. That predicament being one wherein he would end up being surrounded by a bunch of grotesque, man-eating monsters with nothing but a bat to defend himself with—granted, it had nails on the end but it was still not a weapon you'd use.

Now, more likely than not, you would be by his side while it all went down—and you already established that you weren't about to die in this world, so, really, your only option was getting that gun to use in case those demon dogs changed their minds and decided they wanted a taste of fresh, alternative dimension meat.

You had seen first-hand what they were like—held scars they forced onto you on your first day. You felt that chilling fear grip you at the sight of them—chain your limbs up and strangle you enough to almost render you immovable; immobile. Their boney structure, their razor-sharp teeth, their—

"N/N? What are you doing here?"

You jumped, startled out of your thoughts to meet with two pools of brown—familiar in their warmth and softened edges.

"I thought you were playing hooky today."

"Oh, uh—" you cleared your throat, patting down the ruffles of your skirt and avoiding any eye-contact, "—I still am but, Cain caught me and drove me to school so."

He didn't say anything after that, so you took to peering up again. This time, however, you were met with a different set of eyes, ones looking a little bloodshot and inflamed—barely noticeable if you hadn't already seen it the previous night.

They were looking at you through narrowed lenses, pupils shrunk in and gaze heavy with the events of the other night—the distaste of that fateful encounter.

You looked away.

"Oh, uh, Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"I uh, left some of my lipstick in your car, do you mind if I go grab it?"

You returned your gaze to him just in time to catch the pointed look on his face, hands on his hips in that 'mom' way that just screamed Steve Harrington.

"Really, N/N? This is—what?—like the tenth time already?"

You forced a sheepish look, turning your lips up with nerves that weren't triggered by the sentence you'd just heard, per se—but rather, the pair of eyes still burning a hole through your head.

You ignored them when Steve tossed you the keys with a playful roll of his eyes; when you half-entered the car, stuffing the gun into a compartment you knew he wouldn't open anytime soon; you even ignored them as you made your way back to the duo, handing Steve his keys back and quickly denying his offer to cut class with you.

"You sure?" He pushed, brows scrunched up and lips tugged down.

"Yup!" You rose both thumbs. "Hundred percent!"

He parted his mouth open but you didn't wait for a response, turning around quickly to scurry off with those eyes still refusing to leave your backside.

Why the hell did she have to be there?

You couldn't even enjoy your successful little quest, too tense from Nancy's heavy gaze to do anything. It was as though the moment you saw her, your brain instantly replayed the events of last night—the disdain in her voice—and from the looks of her glare, she had the same problem.

Man, this sucked.

You just wanted to experience the world of Stranger Things as safely and non-dramatically as possible but noooo, you had to deal with freaking monsters and teenage girls who—

"Woah, we have got to stop bumping into each other like this."

Your lashes fluttered, eyes training onto a familiar battle jacket littered with logos a plenty—all of which belonged to heavy metal bands.

"Eddie."

"Hey, sweetheart." His lips quirked up—smile reaching his eyes so much so that they crinkled. "What are you doing here? I thought you were playing hooky?"

You deadpanned. "Does everyone know I'm skipping?"

"Well, you are kinda the Queen Bee, sweetheart." His hair bounced as he shrugged.

A thought occurred to you just then, and you found your eyes widening slightly in alarm. "Even the teachers?!"

"Well, no wastoid is exactly going to tell any teachers that the Queen of Hawkins High is skipping."

Wastoid? Wha—?

"Hey, uh—" you blinked, watching as Eddie took to throwing a hand behind his neck, rubbing against the skin as he continued, tone feigning confidence, "—I was actually planning on skipping too so, if you want, we could hotbox in my car?"

Tempting. With all this stress from Nancy, your mom, and the demodogs—weed seemed like the perfect thing to kick back to.

You deserved some time to relax, no?

"Yeah, sure, let's do it."

He perked up, excitement seeping through the grin on his lips as he dramatically bowed with one hand stretched out. "Right this way, milady."

You giggled, your own hand rising up to rest gently against his as you tried your damndest to keep from squealing because—holy shit, you were holding Eddie Munson's hand. You knew girls who would fucking kill to be in your position right now.

His skin was hot against your own; or maybe that was just your whole body heating up in general. You couldn't deny your attraction to the man—hell, you got literal heart eyes whenever you watched him on TV.

Eddie Munson—the guy who got held back in high-school for two years (well—one year as of right now). Eddie Munson—the guy who held the personality of a fun, playful ray of sunshine despite the way he dressed. Eddie Munson—the guy who sacrificed himself to save a whole town of people who abhorred him.

Yeah, you had a big, fat crush on the man.

He could literally be leading you to your death right now and you'd thank him.

"Alright," the sound of a car door sliding open perked your ears up, "I just got a new batch rolling in from Cali so—"

He cut himself off when he turned back around, jaw falling slack as a streak of red slowly crawled across his face, tinging the tips of his ears and ushering a cough straight out of his mouth.

Now, you would normally wonder why he'd reacted that way but you were too distracted by the ache of your own cheeks to—

Ohhh. The ache of your own cheeks.

You quickly cleared your throat, steeling your expression and cursing yourself for being so obvious. Gushing so blatantly in front of characters was going to get you killed in this world, you really had to get rid of that habit.

Lord knew what type of ridiculous expression you had on your face just then.

"Right, uh, you were saying?" You asked as you climbed in, willing yourself to ignore what had just happened.

"Oh, uh, I just had a new batch come in from Cali."

You perked up, interest piqued. "From Cali?! They have the best stuff."

He grinned with you, blush calming down as he rummaged around, hands digging through the many different boxes that scattered the floor.

Meanwhile, you took to shutting the door of the vehicle. Come to think of it, this van kinda looked a bit like the mystery van from scooby doo, except, without the colour.

It was a mess on the inside; if there weren't boxes of who-knows-what substances lying around, then there were various different instruments instead, nothing differing from the norm associated with a band; and yet, just the fact that Eddie was here—that all of this belonged to him—was enough to make it feel special.

You should really ask Eddie if you could sit in on one of his practices one day.

Speaking of the drug dealer, he finally emerged from the pile of boxes hidden in the corner—a plastic zip bag containing a crushed substance within one of his ring-clad hands.

He flicked it with a grin on his face, head turning up as a pair of excited pools met with your own. "Bag of peaceful bliss right here."

You watched with intrigue as his fingers got to work, rolling up the substance effortlessly, as if he'd done it a million times before—which, granted, he probably had.

"Ladies first."

Your lips quirked up, fingers winding around the roll and, in turn, brushing against his own. It was a light touch—a feathery brush—still, it was enough to run tingles down your arm.

The stick was placed to your mouth with one hand, the other curling in on itself in a gesture that asked Eddie to pass over the lighter.

His large hand slowly came to cup your own, fingers engulfing yours—sending warmth to circulate in your blood; to flood your vision in pink—before lightly moving it away. "Allow me, sweetheart."

You didn't move, staying still as he pulled the metallic box up to your face, thumb flicking against the open lid a few times before the flame jumped to life.

It was hot; unbearably so—his breath across your face. The flame was practically nothing compared to him and his proximity. And it only got hotter as you continued staring at him.

It was because you were staring at him so intensely, in fact, that you caught the way his eyes briefly flickered. It was quick, barely noticeable—but you had noticed, and you had seen where they looked.

Your lips quirked up and you took the roll out of your mouth, puffing smoke straight into his face. "Staring at my lips, huh, pretty boy?"

Your grin only grew when he spluttered.

Before he could respond, though, you had lightly shoved the roll into his mouth—lips still quirked up.

You only withdrew when he rose two fingers to rest the cigar against.

"Hey, Eddie?"

He blinked.

"You're not gonna make me pay for this, are you?"

The roll left his mouth with a puff. "Depends."

As he placed it back inside, you rose a brow. "Oh?"

"Yeah, oh."

"Well..." you trailed off, slowly shifting your hips up before plopping them back down—

—straight. onto. his. lap.

His breath audibly hitched; a series of coughs following not long after.

"Careful," you hissed out, plucking the roll from his lips and shifting in your seat—about to climb off—when a warmth snaked its way around your waist, rendering you motionless.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Heat crawled up your spine, invading your senses and hyperfixating your attention on Eddie and the way his lips grazed the lobe of your ear. Any and all previous thoughts were washed away; taking with them your breath.

His hand fell over your own again, ushering the substance back into your mouth and your eyes grew heavy as you took another puff, melting into putty in the arms of the school freak.

The car was quickly fogging up—everywhere you breathed was starting to have that strong, earthy taste to it.

Trippy.

You pulled away, mind hazy and barely able to register the way his lips tugged down.

With just a little wiggle of your hips, his arms fell and his brows scrunched up with worry. You didn't let him voice it though, quickly turning around to lay down and prop your elbows up on his thighs—arms almost immediately going lax once you got comfortable.

Your head now rested on his lap, and you peered up at him through hooded eyes. "Much better."

He smiled down at you again, finger moving to trace your cheek with that same feathery touch from before—the one that elicited a flurry of tingles through your skin.

"Tell me about yourself, Eds."

"Hm?"

"I wanna know you better."

Better than you already did, that was.

"What d'you wanna know?" He asked.

"Anything." You threw your hands up, puffing once more. "I wanna know more 'bout Super Senior Eddie Munson."

He hummed. "I plan to make it big one day."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Groupies 'n everything."

You reached up, placing the blunt against his lips as you proclaimed loudly, "I bet they would trip over 'emselves to get a taste of you."

He winked. "That's what 'm planning." Then, he paused for a minute, expression softening before another inquiry left his mouth. "What about you?"

"Me?"

What were you planning? Survival, really. But, to be honest—and this wasn't just the weed speaking (or was it? You couldn't really tell)—you just wanted to experience the show; meet the characters and bond over little things. Kinda like what you were doing right now.

"I plan on..."

The characters from this show were precious, and you loved them all to bits. They didn't deserve any of what happened to them, that was why you planned on...

"...protecting those I love."

Yeah, perfect.

His eyes widened a little—startled, no doubt, and not expecting that kind of response from you. The perfect opportunity to trip him up more.

"Wanna be one of them?"

He already was one but—he didn't know that.

You assumed he must've been too flustered to talk, because he didn't respond to that—only choosing to continuously blink at you.

This weed was sure making your confidence sky rocket.

Speaking of things the weed was doing for you—your vision was tripping majorly.

The ceiling seemed to zoom in, but also zoom out at the same time, and sometimes you swore you could see the detailed wisps of the smoke that flooded the car's inside; the very atoms that made them up.

Colours were hard to register in your mind; their names even harder—but, with how relaxed the fumes were making you and your tensed muscles, you couldn't really bring yourself to care.

And Eddie—oh Eddie—he just looked so pretty to you right now; so jaw-dropping and mesmerising. Even with how red his eyes were and the extent at which his pupils dilated, they still looked tremendously pretty. His lips were so cute, pink and begging for attention.

You couldn't help it; the way your hand reached out to cup his cheek and guide his head down. Luckily, though, you still had enough sense to tilt his head enough so that instead of your lips touching, your noses did.

If you were going to kiss Eddie, it sure as hell wasn't happening while you were high.

"Y'know," Eddie breathed into your eyes, causing them to flutter shut as you hummed, "I used to think you were a huge bitch."

That shot your eyes open.

"I mean, when you stuck around with people like Tommy H and Carol, it was kinda hard not to."

Ah. Steve's former friends.

"Not to mention King Steve. Though, I don't know if I should call him that anymore."

"'Cause of Billy?"

"Yeah." He chuckled. "Have you seen him? It's only, like, his second day and he's got girls wrapped around his finger like it's nothing."

"I'm sure it'll stay that way permanently too."

"Yeah, he seems like the type to like it."

"Hm?"

"The attention."

Your lips tugged down. "Are you implying something, Eddie?"

"...maybe a little."

Your frown grew deeper. "Y'know, Eds, you shouldn't judge people without getting to know them first."

"Oh? And I suppose you know a ton about Hargrove, huh?"

You narrowed your eyes before you spoke again—tone laced in warning—"Eddie."

He rose both hands, and you let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding in.

"My bad."

"It's okay, let's just forget about it," you said, "I came here to relax and enjoy some time away from stress."

"Stress?"

Well, you supposed it wouldn't be the end of the world if you shared a little with the class.

"Nancy said something... weird to me the other night."

"Harrington's girl?"

"Yeah... she sounded bitter."

"Maybe she was jealous."

You moved to sit up but Eddie was quick to push you back down, both hands placed firmly—yet gently—on your shoulders. "Jealous?"

"Yeah."

"Why would she be jealous for?"

He scoffed. "Oh please, you and Harrington are attached at the hip—if I were your boyfriend, I would be jealous."

For a moment, you allowed yourself to ignore the hypothetical scenario of Eddie being your boyfriend, if only to pay more attention to the apparent green creature that held Nancy by the neck.

Could it be? Was she jealous? Was that why she reacted as strongly as she did when you tried to let her down slowly?

"Hey now, whatever you're thinking, stop thinking it." Eddie's finger tapped against your cheek, sending tiny ripples through your skin. "You said it yourself, you're here to relax, not to stress."

He couldn't be more right.

And with that thought in mind, you sank deeper into the warmth of Eddie's lap, pure safety and comfort shrouding your form—blanketing you so nicely in the soothing presence that was Eddie Munson.

And as your eyes fluttered shut, you whispered one last thing with a warm smile, "This was nice. Thank you, Eddie."

@bdudette, @tanyaherondale, @killerqueenfan, @l3xiluve, @thedoubleexposurephotography, @xxqueenofdemonsxx, @briarsheart, @nickey-diano, @uselessbutinteresting, @steeldaisies, @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom, @patheticreative, @majestichugs, @eddiesbitch83, @secretdryrose, @bloodywickedvamp, @charlizekkelly, @sophiaj650, @mfnqueen1, @axionn, @harrysgoldenwatermelon, @simpfo, @adrienette715, @tippyeddy

I've been watching a lot of zombie stuff recently so I was wondering how Steve, Eddie, and Billy would react to a zombie apocalypse. I'm tempted to write an au but I need to focus on the next part 😭

Tell you what, if the masterlist to this series ever reaches 500 notes, I'll write a zombie apocalypse AU (Edit: Holy shit, it's at 400, wtf?)

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 6 months ago

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Shadows at Dawn

Summary: After surviving Cranstead Fields but haunted by it's trauma, Billy finds comfort in the allure of alcohol and blurred faces of the women he's been with, desperate to find something that feels good | Word Count: 3k~ | Warnings: smut, alcohol abuse, trauma related behaviour, emotional distress, casual sex

A/N: based off the song 'Good Luck, Babe!' and the Billy brainrot continues 😅

The dreaded banner of a text at the top of his mobile phone screen stole his attention.

Mum: Billy, love, please ring me xx

Billy stared at the message, the screen's glow harsh against the dim light of the bus. He hadn’t been home much lately, hadn't seen much of anyone who knew him before it all went wrong. His mum’s words weighed heavily on him as the bus trundled through the city, a mix of guilt and defiance brewing in his chest. He knew she was right to worry. He was spiralling, his life a blur of lost weekends and forgettable faces.

Every unreturned number, every empty morning was another stamp pressed into an already soaring depression. He set the phone down, resolving to ignore the message, just as he had ignored the signs of his own unravelling.

He felt awful at first for ignoring his Mum, knowing that she was just worrying, as mothers do, in their own loving way. But there was a tight squeeze about her love. Almost controlling in its intentions, as if she had nearly let her son slip from her grasp once and didn't want to let it happen again.

But he'd had enough of screaming matches with his Dad every time he went over for a chat and a cuppa. Not that he expected him to understand the flurry of anxiety and self-hatred that marinated in his head.

It was the same script every time anyway.

Always 'I know it's been hard but you need to get yourself on your feet' and 'you had something stable and good with Becky and now look at you now that she's gone'. When really, Becky had been the one to insist that it was all too much for her after Cranstead, his sleepless nights, his fearful eyes at the slightest sound that pulled him back into that car on the hot July afternoon, were all seemingly beyond the compassion and care she was willing to give.

Billy had known it was over the second her eyes shifted from comforting and caring, to unnerved and weary. And it was all downhill from there.

As he turned away, watching the smear of red and amber street lamps as the bus clanged over a speedbump, a flicker of memory from the previous night came unbidden. Her face blurred, the girl from the club, looking at him with the usual detached amusement and fleeting interest. It was unsettling how a simple look could feel like a lifeline thrown into his roiling sea of numbness.

An interest from someone, whether marred by the effects of alcohol or not, felt like a small victory. But she was attractive, and in the moment, her willingness to be with him had been enough.

For a while, it made him feel something, anything other than the pervasive numbness that had become his constant companion. It was a shallow, fleeting sensation, a reminder of a life where not every emotion was dulled or darkened by the shadows of his past.

This spark, however minimal and fleeting, was a small victory. It wasn’t about her, not really, it was about the feeling of being seen, of existing for someone else, even if just for a night.

Billy had developed a habit, almost ritualistic in its regularity. Each time he left the club with someone, as morning closed in on that spark once again, unable to face them when they woke up, he’d scribble his name and number on a scrap piece of paper, leave it at their bedside and disappear to wallow in the inevitable shame that would soon follow after. It was an offer, a possibility for something more, something beyond the heat of their bed.

But morning after morning, his phone remained silent. No calls, no messages. Each non-response solidified the growing emptiness inside him. It was as if with every unreturned call, the world reaffirmed the futility of his attempts at connection. These gestures, meant to bridge the gap between loneliness and companionship, seemed to only widen it. He began to think perhaps that he was just as forgettable as the nights he’d left behind, and wondered briefly what the point was in surviving Cranstead if this was the life he was supposed to lead after.

This cycle had become part of the bleak rhythm of his life. He wondered sometimes why he still left his number, why he continued to make a gesture he knew would likely be ignored. Perhaps it was a test, a way to keep proving to himself that he was still trying, still reaching out despite the numbing predictability of disappointment.

He needed to feel like he was still making an effort, otherwise the spiral would quicken even further. It was akin somewhat to feeling drunk, just not the nice kind.

Billy walked into the pulsing heart of the club, the thudding bass mirroring the beat of his heart, as familiar and oppressive as the tightness in his chest. The strobe lights sliced through the smoky darkness, the smell of cheap perfume and sweat humid in the air. Billy slipped into the crowd, his movements automatic and practiced. He had perfected the art of seeming available but never truly being present.

He approached the bar, ordering a drink he didn’t really want. As he leaned against the polished surface, his eyes scanned the room, not in search of someone specific but out of habit. The faces blended into one another, each one a potential story, a possible escape from his own spiralling thoughts. Yet, he made no real effort to engage. It was easier, safer, to remain aloof.

Billy knew the type of girls who gravitated toward him. They were often drawn by the same melancholy that pooled in his dark eyes, mistaking it for depth or perhaps recognising it as a kindred spirit in their own reflections of loneliness. His height and lanky frame, combined with the perpetual shadow of sorrow that draped his features, painted the picture of a troubled soul, romanticised in a way that was both alluring and cautionary.

As if written from a script, a girl who'd been separated from her mates leaned beside him in some dark corner of the club, leaning against the wall, a double vodka and coke sipped through a tiny straw, and big eyes looking up at him as if they were in the privacy of a bedroom already.

She was exactly his type, or rather, he was exactly hers. Billy could see it in the way she tilted her head, her gaze sizing him up, as if she could peel back the layers of his façade with just a look. There was an undeniable appeal in that recognition. Here was someone who did not need him to smile or pretend. She sought the mystery in him, even if it was only for a quick, interesting fuck.

He thought with some hatred pointed inwards, that that was all he was good for. For a girl to brag to her friends the next day about this mysterious, romantically sad creature she'd let have several minutes of heaven between her thighs.

And after the initial excitement had faded, he would once again fade into ambiguity. Nothingness. Nothing more than just a subject of a story that he had both not heard, and yet somewhat at the butt of a joke he didn't know about.

“I'm doing my PhD this year. I feel like one of those in between girls, half of my mates are married with kids and buying houses and the other half are drunk getting pissed and shagging anything with a heartbeat-”

Billy listened, nodding along, but his responses were sparse. He couldn't shake the feeling of performing.

She spoke about herself, too hazed with alcohol to ask him about himself. Or perhaps it was that she wasn't particularly interested in that. She seemed interested in him, or at least, she imagined herself in bed with him later.

As the night wore on, she continued to monopolise the conversation, filling every silence with stories and questions. She seemed to latch onto him, her laughter a bit too loud, her proximity a bit too close. Billy recognised he was a few drinks deep, like her, and feeling dizzy, but half aware at the same time.

"I swear I’ve seen you somewhere," she insisted, the third time she'd said it that night, squinting as if trying to place him in her memory. "Were you at that concert last month? Or maybe at the park during the summer festival?"

Billy shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "Just one of those faces, I guess," he murmured, unsure whether to be flattered or concerned by her fixation.

She hummed, a playful glint in her half-lidded, tipsy eyes. After a sharp grimace at the harsh taste of the vodka dregs in her glass, she set it aside and leaned closer, her voice a sultry whisper.

“Fancy coming back to mine?”

Billy didn't even feel the tug of impulse. He just did as he had always done, and left with her.

Her apartment was a small, unremarkable space, sparsely decorated and functional. As soon as they entered, she tossed her keys on a table and gestured vaguely towards the kitchen. “I’m just going to grab something to drink. Make yourself comfortable, I guess.”

The transition from the club to her bedroom was brisk, businesslike. And as he walked to her bedroom, he instinctively pulled a condom from his wallet and shoved it into his pocket so that he wouldn't have to awkwardly find it later.

The sex was just as unremarkable.

Actually, no.

The sex was okay, serviceable but largely fueled by the alcohol coursing through their veins, which lent an exaggerated intensity to their movements. Their mutual inebriation made them more enthusiastic than the encounter warranted, each responding more to their own heightened sensations than to any real chemistry.

At least this made him feel something.

In the humid air, he watched with a dreamy gaze as they changed positions and between ragged breaths, her breasts moving with every push into her, she slurred.

“I know where I recognise you from…” she started, “...didn't I see you on the news a few months ago…”

Though Billy didn't stop, the question hit him, overshadowed the buzz of intoxication and jolted him back into a brief moment of complete sobriety.

She'd recognised him from the Cranstead Fields coverage.

His heart beat rattled with a guilty rhythm, not from the shame of this soulless one night stand to boost his fractured confidence, but from the sudden intrusion of his other life into this detached moment.

Instead of forming a reply, he pulled her towards him by a hard grip at her waist, lifting her as he renewed his anxious energy into sex, hoping she wouldn't either bring it up again or remember.

And as she moaned loudly, throwing her head back, he closed his eyes in relief and attempted to focus on the feeling creeping up his spine. But the seed of discomfort that had been planted wrestled with his pleasure, and when he finally let out a choked whimper and came hard into the condom, it didn't feel the same.

It was hollow, this feeling. Like shame.

That was the first time Billy started not leaving his name and number. Even leaving her apartment the next day, the embarrassment and vulnerability he'd felt when she'd asked, haunted his eyes and tortured his already withered soul.

He no longer kept track of days of the week, only doing so by how busy or empty the local clubs and pubs were on any given evening. The place where Billy could find some semblance of belonging, even if it was to find some girl who looked at him the right way, now felt like a shackle. Casual sex became a monotonous task. Each time chipped away at him and became less and less effective, like growing resistance to a drug.

The usual pleasantries, once peppered with the possibility of future contact, were now clipped, impersonal. Billy moved through these spaces like a ghost, visible but insubstantial, his presence noted but not remembered. He'd always introduce himself, but doubted they would actually remember who he was.

The girls’ faces, names, voices. What were they anymore? They changed so often, and usually the only sound that came out was a faked moan.

The highs of sex were no longer enough to calm the worsening storm within. Alcohol became its counterpart, often holding hands and guiding him through drunken conquests. And though his performance was heavily affected, he could not bring himself to care.

One Sunday morning felt a chip more peaceful than the average day. After another gruelling phone call with his Mum, Billy felt the shame and guilt nibble at the edges of him. The worry in her voice had made him briefly think, paired with the unusually sunny autumn day, that he should get out and let the warmth kiss his skin for a change.

Although, Billy wasn't perfect. He found himself at the local pub not 20 minutes later at 3 o'clock in the afternoon, moving towards the bar area, fishing in his wallet for his card and licking his lips, thinking of the pint he was about to have and how it would calm the flurry of anxiety in his heart. Even if it was brief.

A young woman rushed in to stack the glasses, hair up and bright faced. An employee he didn't recognise as his regular barmaid, but recognised her from somewhere he couldn't place in his mind.

She smiled warmly, in a way that made his heart flutter.

“Sorry about that. What can I get you?”

He found himself just standing there, silent, for a long moment. His brain ticking away, trying to pin her in his memory.

“U-uh, just a pint of house lager, please..” he replied quietly, looking down to avoid her eyes, non-judgemental and kind.

He watched in his periphery as she pulled the pint, eyes vaguely roving over her as if against his will. There was something familiar about the curve of her hips, the slope of her neck. Had he been close enough before to see these details?

She places it in front of him, and smiles, narrowing her eyes playfully, “I know you,” she muses, “Billy, right?”

His heart skipped. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Panic tightened its grip as he feared the worst connection. She knows Cranstead Fields. Shit.

"U-uh—" he stuttered, scrambling for an explanation or an excuse. But her next words cut through his panic.

"Don't worry, I'm not holding a grudge about you sneaking off. It happens, right?" Her tone was light, dismissive of any offence. Relief washed over Billy, mixing with disbelief.

"Yeah, I—Sorry about that. I didn't mean to, uh, leave like that," he managed, his voice steadying as the initial shock wore off.

She waved off his apology with an easy flick of her wrist, the ambient light catching the playful glint in her eyes. "Honestly, don't fret. We're all adults here, right?”

He let go of a breath, looking at her as if she were speaking some foreign language.

"Yeah…thanks for being so cool about it," Billy admitted, his guarded demeanour softening as he sensed no judgement from her. He ran a hand through his hair, a half-smile beginning to form. "It’s been a...well, it’s been a complicated time for me."

"Hey, no explanations needed," she replied, leaning forward on the bar, her tone reassuring. “We've all got our stories.”

"Right, right," Billy nodded, his response slightly halting as he processed her dismissal of the situation. He took a deep breath, feeling the tightness in his chest begin to ease, yet a trace of guardedness lingered. "I guess it's just been a while since I didn't wake up to some kind of drama."

She leaned against the bar, her posture relaxed and open, which seemed to soften the space between them. "Sounds like you could use more drama-free mornings," she said, her voice low and teasing. "Or maybe just better endings to your nights."

He chuckled, the sound more relaxed now, realising her intention was not to chastise but to lighten the mood. "Better endings would be a start, yeah."

"Consider this a step in the right direction then," she replied with a warm smile. She moved to pour another drink for a different customer, her motions fluid and confident, but her attention still partially on him. The casual ease of her demeanour helped dissolve some of his lingering tension, making the space around him feel less constricting.

Eventually, she tore off the receipt from the register, scribbling something on the back before sliding it across the bar to him.

“Here’s your receipt, and a little something extra,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. Billy picked it up, turning it over to find her number scrawled in neat digits. “No sneaking off without saying goodbye this time,” she added, her tone playful yet sincere.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Billy responded, a genuine smile breaking through his usual reserved facade. He pocketed the receipt, feeling a lightness he hadn’t expected to find that night.

His eyes lingered as she moved behind the bar, serving various customers, her smile ever-present and her laugh just as addictive. He felt a flip in his stomach, his skin tingling as if the sun had come out for the first time in the cold, long winter of his soul.

Billy found himself surprisingly content to just sit at the bar, watching the rhythm of her movements, the easy interactions she had with everyone. He sipped his beer, slowly, occasionally chiming in when she threw a casual question his way or made a joke that included him.

She’d loop back to him between orders, keeping him anchored to the moment, to the bar, to her. It was comfortable and unfamiliar in a way that both excited and soothed him. As the night waned and the crowd thinned, Billy found himself enjoying the lightness of their exchanges, feeling a spark of hope ignite within him.

He willed the world to slow, even just for a while, so that he could keep talking to her, keep looking at her gorgeous warm face, to keep a little piece of who he used to be alive the more she eased her way into his life.

Perhaps, if someone could remember his name, perhaps he could start remembering himself too.

dividers by @cafekitsune

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blackswxnn @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch

@castellomargot @emmaisafictionwhore @eponaartemisa @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy

@justbelljust @minholy223 @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian

@primonizzutto @qyburnsghost @randomdragonfires @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3

#Spotify #billy washington #billy washington x reader #billy washington x you #billy washington x oc #billy washington smut #billy washington angst #billy washington fanfiction #billy washington fic #billy washington fanfic #trigger point itv #trigger point fanfic #triggee point billy washington #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell characters #trigger point fanfiction

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m1ssunderstanding · 10 months ago

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Get Back Rewatch 55 Years On: Day 18

Staring John Lennon, as that kid I should’ve been nicer to in first grade who always smelled like PB&J and was never to be seen without his pokemon cards

The dancing is really too cute. They’re just absolutely giddy. Making each other laugh AND an excuse to touch? John and Paul’s heaven.

John saying he was too excited after yesterday to go to bed. Like a fucking kid on christmas.

Everybody is serving today. While the candy-land suit is fun, I actually just love that vivid purple so much that I think it’s better without the coat over it. Billy looks extremely suave and classy. And those red polka-dots on Ringo. Red suits him, and I think with his very frank, masculine aspect, he looks so beautiful and bold in feminine fits. Paul and John are both just wearing what they wore yesterday. Yeah. But John is still a cutie, and Paul, well, you all know.

The advice chain about finishing a song while you’re working on. Paul → John → George

Paul honestly does a great job being supportive of George and his work. Coming over and grooving with him, then hopping on drums then guitar (right-handed, may I add). Just to give George musical atmosphere to flesh out his song and start thinking of arrangement ideas, I assume. Then letting him bounce ideas around. And the whole time being overly-enthusiastic to build George up. Look how happy George is with the love and attention.

John helping move some equipment in. We love a man who sometimes doesn’t think he’s too good for manual labor.

Yes, clean that homeless man’s palm sweat off your instrument. Probably smart.

TFW you made Paul McCartney jealous of your musical abilities.

John really knew so well when to be his little impish self and when to be hard and intimidating. Exhibit A, going from, “Can we have our microphones, oh, mister, can we please?” to “And get one for Billy too.” In a matter of seconds.

George Martin stepping in when they’re all getting panicky about the sound and they need an authority figure to reassure them in ways that someone like Glyn Johns never could. Just, perfectly cool and collected, puts everything right as they’re all shouting at him like school children who’ve just had a terrible time in PE.

“Believe me, when I tell you.” “Oh, I do.” Oh, good. He did put it in. That’s nice. Right, and this is the moment Yoko decides to tell John her divorce has come through and pull him in for a big smooch. Honestly, it just shows how threatened she feels by Paul. Nevermind her whole, “good thing Paul isn’t a girl or he would have been a great threat,” quote. Clearly, he just is a threat regardless of sex.

And then John, “I’m freeeee.” At Paul. Honestly, the amount of things they direct specifically and aggressively at each other that should’ve just been general statements if there wasn’t some weird thing between them. It’s really something. Normally, you’d announce something like that to the whole room. But it seems John specifically wants to impress upon Paul that he and Yoko could get married right now if they wanted to. I mean, it’s a little difficult to make the point, because John and Paul almost aways seem to be talking only to each other. But through the whole discussion of Yoko’s divorce, John does not take his eyes off of Paul.

Oh my gosh, Ivan Vaughn is here? How many emotional support boyfriends does Paul need to make up for John having Yoko? Glyn, Linda, George Martin, Dennis, Robert Fraser, and now Ivan? Fuck’s sake, Yoko, you’re a powerful woman.

Paul’s Strawberry Fields piano. Let me be as vulnerable and broken as possible in my singing, since I can’t show you any other way that you’re killing me. Do you remember this song? That you wrote when we were at the height of our partnership only two years ago? How happy we were then? How beautiful the world seemed for that one brief moment? And John can’t look at him, because, yes he fucking remembers and yes he knows he’s hurting Paul. But for whatever reason, (my theory is he wanted something more Paul couldn’t give him. What that was and whether it was ever specifically vocalized I don't have a guess) going back to that time would be more painful to John than this has been.

So they’ve been goofing off and Paul gives this little speech to get them back on task. “Alright Chawn Love. I’ve gotta call order, John, now, valuable time, here, son. Cool down, son.” But John’s response, “Don’t let me down, babe” completely switches Paul’s gears. He now thinks it’s important enough to get in this little snatch of a *meaningful* cover, “Take these Chains from my Heart,” reversing the course of productivity he’d got them on and ignoring the fact that they were about to do a take on two-shilling-a-foot tape. My interpretation of this moment is a bit tin-hatish and long, but suffice it to say, John is not happy with the message.

Everyone convincing Paul to do another take of his song is surprising, considering everything we always hear about how Paul was a tyrant task-master who just forced everyone to keep doing his lame muzak over and over when they all clearly hated it. Mal, “You can always go back to it.” Paul, “Do you want your head kicked in?” John, “We’ll never get a chance to do it again.” Paul, “Okay, honey bunch. Let’s hit it one time, tutti-frutti.”

Yoko watching Paul check out her boyfriend’s ass. Classic. Also the fact that she literally copied his outfit? I get so much second-hand embarrassment for her, and it’s not when she’s being a weirdo and a statement-maker. It’s the having to physically stick the gum you were offering your boyfriend into this hand because he won’t take his eyes off his boyfriend for two seconds to look at you.

Everyone laughing at Perfect Paul being out of tune is so funny to me. Like when the nerd finally gets a question wrong and the whole class is all “ooooohhhh!”

Ringo having a grand old time on the drums. I love that he just knew that’s what he wanted to do from such a young age and he never wanted to do anything else. And why would he? He’s a genius at it.

Paul. “John’s got something at 1:30 and so have I.” Smirk emoji. Side-eye emoji. George is with me. “Yeah we've got something too. I’ll do Ringo at 1:30.” I'm dead.

This moment right here hurts me. Paul’s enjoying a nice cuddle with Ringo until he remembers the camera. You’re not going to get in trouble for having your friend’s arm around your shoulders, Paul. Why are you like this?

#paul mccartney #the beatles #john lennon #mclennon #ringo starr #george harrison #get back

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soulessjourney · 10 months ago

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Quiet Confessions

Paring: Astarion x fem!DurgTavReader

Word count: 1.4k

Summary: As memories flood back, Tav opens up to Astarion beneath the moonlight, sharing the chains that bind her.

Warnings: Truama talk, mentions of abuse and violence, Angst, fluff, hurt and comfort, Tav being an emotional wreck in the softest way possible, talk of self hatred

A/N: I'm gradually working my way down the list of tasks I need to complete, which means I'm getting closer to the fantastic requests I've been receiving. If you have a request, feel free to share it! I thoroughly enjoy bringing your ideas to life!

Uncertain of how long you had been away from camp, you found yourself lying in the grass, gazing up at the moon. Time slipped away as you became lost in the labyrinth of your thoughts. The journey began when a torrent of memories, once erased during your escape from the ship's pod, flooded back, triggering a piercing headache. These recollections unveiled a darker version of yourself, one capable of committing unspeakable acts in pursuit of power. The realization of your own monstrous nature left you feeling contaminated, haunted by the deeds done beyond your control.

Choosing to forget the past, you had embarked on a new life, hoping to bury the shadow of the person you once were. Yearning for the demise of that former self and its memories, you couldn't help but wish they had perished the day you awoke on that ship.

The serenity of your contemplation was interrupted by the soft cadence of approaching footsteps. Astarion, with his distinctive gait, revealed his presence. Over the past few months, you had honed the ability to identify individuals by the sound of their steps—a skill cultivated, perhaps, by the constant threat of someone attempting to sneak up on you.

Sitting up, you turned to Astarion, offering a tender smile, reciprocated by his affectionate gaze. "Once again, I fail to surprise you, my love," he remarked, settling down beside you.

You shrugged, reclining in the grass, allowing your gaze to settle on the moon. A comfortable silence enveloped the space between you as Astarion leaned back on one hand, holding a book in the other. He never felt the need to inquire if something was amiss; he understood that you would approach him when ready, just as you had done for him. Neither of you pressured the other, always waiting until one felt inclined to share what weighed on your minds. This dynamic defined the perfection of your relationship—rooted in trust and patience, creating a beautiful harmony. Astarion sensed your internal struggle and refrained from prying, recognizing the feeling of being bound to something without an escape.

You debated with yourself on how to approach the topic. Keeping your gaze fixed on the sky, you decided to let your thoughts flow into words. "Sometimes when I look in the mirror, all I can see is a monster—a cold-blooded killer who gazes into people's eyes as life leaves them. I hate how good it makes me feel when it happens," you suddenly confessed, pulling Astarion's attention away from the book. He closed it, placing it beside him, and lays back beside you, offering his undivided attention. He was prepared to listen to every word, no matter how violent or disturbing, understanding that being present for you in this moment was the best form of support.

"As I would take off my armor and examine my arms, a part of me felt ashamed of what I saw. Scars where the skin was rubbed raw. Initially, I thought nothing of it, but now I can feel those shackles that kept me confined to that room. A room with a window too high for me to look out, allowing sunlight to reveal its true small and decaying nature. A room where the body of the person I murdered lay in the corner, reeking of death, and I was forced to stare at it for days until the stench drove me mad," you whispered, furrowing your eyebrows as your mind wandered back into that haunting memory.

Anger surged through Astarion upon your confession. You were a prisoner of your own mind, with no escape until recently, just like him. Astarion refrained from touching you as he observed you beginning to fall back into the past—a familiar experience, losing oneself in a memory and reliving it.

"The day I felt those chains break from the ground was the day I learned how to truly walk. It was the day I killed so many people, and every single one of them begged for their life. I remember laughing and smiling like an accomplished fool when I took their lives. It's so disgusting, knowing that I did what I did, how I killed the people that I did. With that came the pure torture my so-called father put me through. He would lock me in this room with his followers and see just how much pain I could take. He claimed it was to make me stronger, to be the perfect killer I was born to be. But each time they cut into me, I lost myself piece by piece," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

Astarion rolled onto his side to look at you, studying your features as you spoke. He noticed the subtle cues—how your jaw clenched when discussing anger-inducing events, how your eyes softened when recalling taking an innocent life, and how your nose would scrunch when lost in thought. Everything about you was beautiful, breathtaking even, which intensified his resentment for the pain you had endured.

As you spoke, Astarion began to grasp why you lingered sometimes, gazing at views or exploring houses and temples. These were sights stripped from most of your life, confined to the inside of a cell or a room, enduring unimaginable pain.

What you chose to share next shattered Astarion and revealed the depth of your strength. "But now that I have Wyll, Gale, Karlach, Shadowheart, Lae’zel, Halsin, and even you, I'm learning how to be strong for the first time ever. I'm learning how to confront the darkness and face my own reflection without resentment, knowing that I bear the face you love and cherish. I'm learning how to truly live for the first time, and it terrifies me," you confessed. Astarion felt his eyes soften, his hand moving to rest beside yours, his pinky gently brushing against the side of your hand in a small gesture of comfort.

Lost in your memories, you didn't even register the subtle caress of his finger on your hand. Your eyes had glazed over, ensnared in the labyrinth of your mind, silent tears tracing their path from the corners of your eyes. Your profound silence began to concern Astarion; it seemed as if you were paralyzed in that moment, with no discernible movement. He felt a sense of helplessness, unable to assist you in the way he desired, as he, too, often succumbed to the torturous memories inflicted by Cazador.

When a strangled sob shattered the silence between you, Astarion sat up and enveloped you in his arms. This was a method he knew could often bring comfort when you broke down. No words needed to be spoken as he held you tightly. You were someone who wore a mask around others, refusing to reveal your vulnerabilities. Yet, with him, you found solace and strength, as he did with you. Lae’zel often remarked on how you both carried the weight of the world, calling you two sides of the same coin.

Or when rejecting Gale, he commented on the irony of your love for Astarion, noting the striking similarity in your personalities. While said to hurt you, there was truth in his words. You and Astarion understood the shared pain and the deep connection between you, choosing to be there for one another and share love you both craved.

Drawing you closer, Astarion let your head rest in the crook of his neck, his cheek against the side of your head. He released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding when he felt your arms wrap around his middle, bringing you back from the daze you were trapped in. You were here, in his arms, holding on as if afraid he would vanish if you let go. Leaning back slightly, he cupped your face in his hand, running his thumbs over your cheeks in a soothing manner. "There you are, my love. I was worried I lost you," he said, the concern and fear evident in his voice.

Shaking your head, you placed your hands over his, leaning into his touch. Although your response was silent, he understood. "Can we stay and watch the sunrise? I've never seen it before, and I want to experience this new thing with you," you whispered, searching his eyes for any sign of rejection. You wanted to linger, to feel alive, if only for a moment, before returning to the mask you had carefully crafted.

Pressing his lips to the crown of your head, he nodded, pulling you closer and shifting so you both could sit in a more comfortable position. "Of course, my love. For you, I'd sit through a million sunrises if you asked me to," he said, prompting a small smile to grace your lips. This moment with the person you cherished was your sanctuary, he was your home.

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afewproblems · 1 year ago

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Season Two Halloween AU Part Nine

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six Part Seven Part Eight

Synopsis: What if Eddie had been at Tina's Halloween Party in Season Two? Featuring Steve!Whump, Stancy Breakup, and Eddie just trying to keep up with all these new revelations about who King-Steve actually is...

As always, thank you thank you to the lovely Jess @strangersteddierthings for cheering me on, letting me send spoilers, and Steddie screaming with me!

***

Eddie moves, trying to find a comfortable position in the firm plastic hospital chair, letting his legs stretch out into the bulk of the hallway and sliding down the chair.

He won't be able to stay like this for much longer either, but it's worth it for the irritated looks he can feel from the nurses station.

Eddie hadn't been allowed in the room with Steve while he was being assessed, forcing him to wait outside in the hallway.

He can hear them talking, not bothering to be quiet at four in the morning.

"There's no answer, who isn't home at this time of night?"

"Did you try the secondary number?"

"Yes, it's for a business though and all I get is the answering machine for a Richard Harrington".

Eddie frowns, silently agreeing with the first nurse, why the hell aren't they here?

That's when he remembers something Steve had mentioned, so casually, Eddie realizes, feeling a little sick, that his parents wouldn't be home until Thanksgiving this year.

Which is just shy of a month away still, give or take a week.

Just how long have they been gone, he wonders, feeling an anxious pit begin to form in his stomach, and what would that mean for him now?

He's saved from this train of thought for the moment by Hopper appearing at the end of the hall, his heavy step and squeaky boots announcing themselves well before he steps into view.

He looks exhausted, and a little worse for wear, and Eddie has never been happier to see a cop.

He walks past Eddie, though he does spare him a single nod, and makes his way to the nurses station.

"Morning," Hopper says gruffly, his voice crackles as though it's either been used too much or too little recently.

"'M'here about the Harrington kid, we have a few questions for him and his injuries and then I'll be taking him home after his statement".

"Sir, that's not--" one of the Nurses tries, only for Hopper to flash his badge and knock his knuckles once on the top of the desk.

"Which room?" He at least has the decency to ask this time, throwing a thumb over his shoulder.

Eddie hears a long sigh as the other Nurse mutters, '206'; Hopper doesn't even wait for her to finish the word before he's turning on his heel, his boots making a horrible squeak against the linoleum tiles as moves.

He slows to a stop in front of Eddie, finally looking at him, it's always been nerve wracking having the chiefs full attention on him, though there's a rather big difference between now and the last time, down at the station.

"They check you out?" He grumbles to Eddie, his fingers tap a nervous rhythm on his leg.

Eddie shakes his head, "Steve took the brunt of everything tonight".

Hopper nods, his gruff face pinched with something close to worry, but it's gone in an instant.

He looks down the hall at something over Eddie's shoulder and lifts his hand in a muted wave before turning back to Eddie.

"You should head home Munson, I took the liberty of getting you a ride".

Eddie frowns at the words and startles slightly as another person sits down beside him, he hadn't even noticed until Wayne was all of a sudden right there.

Eddie blinks, exhaustion and emotion all encompassing; he feels as though he might sink into the floor or tip forward and fall away from the world right then and there, but Wayne reaches out, clasping his shoulder with his firm warm hand. Like he always does.

"Wayne," Eddie says in a tremulous voice, the weight of the night finally crashes over him, the dogs, Billy, the tunnels, it's too much. The image of Steve crumpling to the floor, shards of ceramic in his hair, plays over and over again.

Eddie's face is wet as Wayne pulls him into his arms, he ignores the way the hospital chair digs into his ribs as he moves.

"S'okay Ed," Wayne whispers, letting his hand rub soothing circles on his back, up and down.

Wayne says something above Eddie's head, most likely to Hopper, but he doesn't care, not now. He focuses on the grounding feeling of being held, the warm comfort of knowing that when he needed it, his uncle was there.

He tries not to think about the fact that it's Hopper in Steve's room rather than his parents.

***

They don’t talk after.

It shouldn’t have been surprising really. After the whirlwind in the tunnels, learning that Dustin really had managed to bond with one of the creatures over a mediocre chocolate bar, and finally, finally, getting Steve to the hospital, it was like everything else was put on the back burner.

The government gives them all NDAs to sign, including Wayne now --how was he not going to tell his uncle after the hospital? The government officials had given Eddie a bit of trouble about it during the debrief about their cover story, until Wayne and Hopper had argued his defense.

The worst part though, about everything, is the pretending.

Pretending that everything is normal, like there aren't monsters from an alternate dimension running around Hawkins, like the government didn't know about the real reason so many people, like Mr.Newby, had died. Pretending that small petty things like his late homework assignments, or who was dating who in the wilds of Hawkins High really mattered.

With that being said, the news that Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan Byers were officially dating now, surged through the school.

Pretending that that news doesn't make Eddie feel relieved was also difficult.

Well, maybe relieved isn't the right word, but after Eddie's half-assed confession before the tunnels, and the stay in the hospital, Steve has been avoiding him.

And if it wasn’t because of Nancy….

Well, Eddie tries not to dwell too much on it.

Two weeks after their trip into the Dismal Caverns, Eddie spots, speak of the devil, Nancy Wheeler leaning on his locker.

The last bell has long past so it's only the stragglers now wandering halls, those waiting for Band Practice to start, those just getting out of detention.

Three guesses which one he's here for.

Eddie hasn't seen or spoken to Nancy since their government meeting, not that either had been particularly chatty that night, but she had at least sent a grateful smile Eddie's way as one of the officials went through the whole story of that night.

So to see her now sets his teeth on edge and his stomach plummeting into his shoes.

Is it back, did something happen to Will, did another Demodog surface?

Is Steve okay?

As if Nancy can see the terrified questions swirling around his head, she raises the hand not holding her books to her chest and says lowly, "everyone's fine".

Eddie lets out the breath he's holding, trying to lower his heart rate, "haven't seen you around these parts Wheeler, don't tell me you need a pick me up?"

He tries for a swarthy smile but it falls flat as the adrenalin from his earlier panic is still running rampant, he runs a sweaty hand through his hair, trying to hide the slight shake.

Nancy rolls her eyes and pushes herself off the locker by her shoulder, tipping her head towards the far back door to the building.

She says nothing as she leads him out of the school and towards his usual picnic table in the trees.

Eddie tugs his leather jacket around his torso as a harsh November breeze kicks up dead leaves and dust around the school building in small whirls. He wishes in this moment he had found a zip up closure rather than one with button snaps.

Eddie laughs nervously as they enter the treeline, "uh huh, you sure you didn't want something?"

Nancy turns to sit on top of the table, her face impassive, "Mrs. Click was still there, in her room, I don't need to have any meetings with her and my parents because they think I'm being corrupted," she lifts her hands and makes exaggerated quotations with her fingers before rolling her eyes again.

"We can talk here," she says primly, setting her books down on the table beside her.

Eddie grins, "you're probably setting yourself up for a meeting with the counselor tomorrow anyway, walking out of the school with me".

He kicks at a bottle cap in the grass and watches as it tumbles a few feet away. When he looks back up, Nancy is staring at him with a pinched brow.

"I'll bite, what's going on?"

Nancy nods and it's like a switch flips, her spine straightens slightly and her shoulders square before a determined expression smoothes out her face, it's eerie how similar it is to Steve's.

"What is he to you?" Nancy asks,

"Who?" Eddie stumbles over the word, already knowing exactly who Nancy is asking about.

She looks around now, prompting Eddie to do the same, just in case.

"I know it isn't," she hesitates for a beat as though searching for the word, "safe to talk about it, but," she blinks once, twice, "that's part of why I'm here, asking".

"I won't see Steve get hurt, not again".

"So," Nancy stands now, gracefully rising to her feet and stepping off the table, she takes a step closer towards Eddie, "what is he to you?"

He has a good five or six inches on her at least but the fire in her blue eyes makes him feel so much smaller in this moment.

Eddie feels a snarl build in his chest, the words tumbling out before he can get a chance to really think about them.

"That's fucking rich coming from you, as though you didn't rip his heart out at that stupid Halloween party".

Nancy's face pales slightly, but there's blood in the water now.

He never really had the heart to ask Steve this question, and he probably never would have been able to actually answer it.

But Nancy can.

"Steve is brave, fucking reckless but he's brave, and selfless, and he cares so much --about everything,"

Eddie forces himself to stay where he is, to not move, but his voice climbs in volume, carrying through the trees.

"You had that and you threw it away Wheeler, and you come in here asking what he is to me?"

He watches as Nancy looks around them frantically watching for people, but Eddie doesn't care, he keeps going.

"He's more than some bullshit you toss in the trash".

There are twin spots of red on the high points of her cheekbones, matching the flush painting her ears, Nancy pins him with a frosty glare as she breathes out slowly through her nose.

"Well, you certainly care, don't you, that's a question answered at least".

She clears her throat and blinks again, and to Eddie's horror, her eyes shine with tears in the afternoon sun.

"You don't know what it was like after everything last year, how hard it was".

She wipes roughly at one of the tears that rolls down her cheek, cutting it off.

"I wanted to talk about it, I wanted to tell Barb's parents what happened to their daughter, my--"

Nancy swallows roughly, her nostrils flaring, "my best friend, was dead".

"And Steve wanted to pretend that everything was fine, that it was normal," she clears her throat and wipes at her eyes again, "and I can't do that, I don't have it in me to let it go yet".

Eddie nods, he gets it.

He didn't understand how everyone was able to just go on like everything in the last week didn't happen, or if he will ever forget the sounds those things made as they screamed in the darkness, that people had died that night.

He can't pretend either and it's a relief to know he isn't the only one.

Eddie opens his mouth to apologize but Nancy keeps going, her words softer this time.

"I don't really believe that Steve has been able to let it go either if I'm being honest," Nancy says, her eyes searching Eddie's face as she speaks, "he sleeps with the hall lights on, did he tell you? He can't stand the dark anymore".

"Yeah," Eddie breathes out, "he's said it before, I didn't know about the hall, but.."

He lets the thought trail off, it makes sense. It's not as though he's been sleeping well since everything ended either. Wayne had woken him up that first night to stop his screaming and calm him down, he ended up crawling in with Wayne for the rest of the night, something he hadn't done since he was eight.

Eddie startles slightly at the sudden small hand touching his arm. Nancy pulls back almost immediately at his flinch, regret painting her face.

"Steve needs something that I can't give him," and I need more than he can give me, it wasn't meant to last".

"I didn't mean to hurt him, but that doesn't mean I'm good with Steve getting hurt again and again, he has enough of that with his parents".

Eddie nods again, "have they always been like that?"

Nancy's face darkens for just a moment before smoothing out again.

"In the year we were together, I met them once," she wraps her arms around herself and shivers as another breeze rips through the clearing, "he always made excuses for why they were gone or when they would be back".

She looks up at Eddie now, her wide blue eyes still red rimmed from earlier, "he told me about you, that night".

Oh.

Suddenly the weighted looks Nancy had been giving him make more sense. The small conspiratorial smile.

"Yeah well, he's been avoiding me," Eddie admits softly, lifting his hand to snag a lock of hair, "so I wouldn't hold your breath".

Nancy nods and shivers against a rough gust of wind that shifts the trees and swirls the leaves around the table. She looks into the distance suddenly, her eyes catching something behind Eddie as they widen before darting back to his face.

He turns his head to look behind him, only to see Hawkins Middle through the trees.

"Steve's good at pretending, but he doesn't have the same kind of friends around him that would just accept that version of him now, he's got us --well," Nancy stutters momentarily, "he's got you, and the kids, I'm pretty sure Dustin thinks Steve's an action here now".

Eddie snorts, prompting a smile out of Nancy. He takes a small step forward before offering his elbow. Nancy looks from his arm to Eddie's face once before reaching out to curl her hands around it.

"Alright Wheeler," he says with a grin, "how do we do this? I know you've got a plan rolling around that brain of yours and I'm cold as shit so let's move this to the van".

Nancy smiles again, tilting her head towards the Middle School once more, "How do you feel about Dances?"

Tag List: Please Note the List is Officially Closed

@eriquin @luvinthefreaks @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @goodolefashionedloverboi @ellietheasexylibrarian @bambibiest @sadboislovebeans @howincrediblysapphicofyou @coleys-a-nerd @whycantiuseunderscore @airconditioning123 @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @corrodedbisexual @starman-jpg @ilovecupcakesandtea @yoriposts @clumsiluni @pelinelin @phantomcat94 @lololol-1234 @anaibis @steveshairspray @hellfireone @eddielives1986 @sunswathe @tentativeghost @robin-not-batman @estrellami-1 @manda-panda-monium @tinyplanet95 @perseus-notjackson @queenie-ofthe-void @rainbowsaw @sp0o0kylights @littlebluejane @hi-im-eff @phantypurple @just-ladyme @thoroughlycollected @justrandomfandomstm @swimmingbirdrunningrock @finntheehumaneater @dynamic-powerm@nightmareglitter @genderless-spoon @zaddipax @thebiblesays @pyrohonk @emly03 @geekymagicalpotato @sidebarre @lemon-astra @cipounette @discreetapple @starlitlakes @saphhicwitchbitch @marvel-ous-m @lingeringmirth @honorarybrit81 @bookbinderbitch @finntheehumaneater @lololol-1234 @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @monsterloverforhire @gaydrieeen @starlight-archer @homosexual-having-tea @devondespresso @rennnnon @my-hyperfixations-hell-blog @carlprocastinator1000 @0o-queendean-o0 @emly03 @paintsplatteredandimperfect @louismeds @fruitmix

@lizzicleromance @fairy-princette @eddiethehunted

And a few people I think may be intersted!

@steddierthings @steddie-there @stevesbipanic @henderdads @spooky-brakers

Part Ten Now Up (Final Part)

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sadistic-kitty5601 · 2 months ago

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I HAVEN'T SEEN ANY SUB SOLDIER BOY (Ben from The Boys) SO I'LL DO IT MYSELF.

Warning!!! Sub Solider boy, smut with plot, DETAILED AND LONG NSFW PART, handjob, edging, overstimulating, anal fingering (Him receiving), 2 orgasms at the same time (Him also receiving)

Summary: You finally managed to make Soldier boy 'open minded', and it definitely pays off...

Soldier Boy had some...unfair opinions when it came to women, and he didn't hide it, nor felt much shame in it, it was just how he was raised, and with his stubbornness, that was how he was and how he will think. It's as simple as that. It didn't mean he couldn't love women, he just couldn't love them in the...’correct' way. If it wasn't for his amazing looks, he'd be pretty lonely. Throughout the years of being a 'man' and a superhero, no woman really stood up to him when it came to his misogynistic beliefs, and when they did, they were too 'emotional' or 'offended' for his liking or understanding.

Well, that was until he met you. You were a mature, intelligent, and beautiful woman, who was also a supe. A real dame. However, that wasn't what gained his respect for you, what really gained his respect for you was how you didn't take any shit. Any of his shit. Every time he made a snarky, misogynistic, or sexist statement, you didn't 'over react', go along with it, or scoff at him, you simply told him he was wrong, staying calm, resilient, and firm. Of course, this resulted in you two fighting a lot, but that's what caught his attention, you challenged him. That's what he really needed, a woman who challenged him, even if he'd never admit it.

But, this was back in the day, before he was frozen...So what about now?...

Due to your power, which was physically warping reality (Sorry, it's the only other cool power that doesn't make you age physically), you didn't physically age, you kept yourself alive, but did lose your position as a superhero, later, parting with The Boys. Then, Soldier Boy was found—blah, blah, blah, you already know.

After getting everything settled, Billy Butcher made you babysit Soldier Boy, and obviously, you two had a lot to catch up on. At first, it wasn't too smooth, you began educating him on the norms, new technology, words he couldn't use, everything. It was a lot to process for him, and naturally, he made a comment about how 'men used to be real men back in his day' and 'women need to step down. You began to speak on it, expressing your opinion, something Soldier Boy secretly missed, loving the boldness and firmness in your tone, which he immediately blocked out. What was he thinking? Instead, he pushed back with his own opinion. This started a debate...except, something was..different? Why wasn't he interrupting you? Why was enjoying this? Why was he...understanding?

After this argument, which surprisingly ended on a good note, you two began to make good progress. Soldier Boy often went to you when he had a question about today's society, Y'all's conversations became more playful, less aggressive, you two became more flirty, even. You two always had some sort of lingering tension back in the day, but now? It was at a peak! Something was bound to happen...

You two were at the place, sitting on the couch as you looked at some papers, records, basically studying to get the upper hand on Homelander. Soldier Boy sat there in his robe, making conversation with you. "Y'know, you were always such a dame." Soldier Boy bluntly stated, smirking ever so slightly at you. "Really? You were never too bad yourself." You returned the playfulness, looking back at him. There was a pause. You sat up, getting closer to him. What was this? No, you both knew damn well what it was. Suddenly, both of you threw yourselves onto each other, lips crashing together, wasting no time getting your tongues into each other's mouths. Your hand cupped his cheek, the other wrapping around his neck as his hands wrapped around your back and waist. It quickly got hot and steamy with your heavy breaths, his rock hard cock standing up in his robe, and intense kissing, tongues swirling around, battling for dominance as your hands explored each other's body's. Deep, deep down, you both ached for this moment so badly, now and even back then.

Maybe all of your conversations on making him woke really did work because somehow, he ended up on bottom. His robe already open, exposing his chest area, fingers intertwined with your hair, his legs wrapped around your waist, letting out groans every now and then. I mean, this was some of the most intense action he's gotten in a long time. Sure, he's had sex with 1 or 2 girls by now, but it wasn't really close, nor intimate, just penetration, then cumming. But this, this was different. You two were close and had so much pent up tension, it was truly a lot. You finally broke the kiss, both of you catching your breath, panting. He mischievously smirked up at you, letting out a gruff chuckle. "Damn.." You chuckled in response, returning his smirk with a teasing grin. "Need a break?" "Psh, hell no." He responded as his grip on your hair got slightly tighter. He wanted more. "Just surprised you're on top—" He said as he immediately pulled you back into a passionate and almost desperate kiss. You reciprocated the kiss with the same energy, one of your hands sliding up his leg, tugging at his robe.

He let out a soft groan as he felt your hands begin to strip him. "Someone's impatient.." He mumbled against her lips with a teasing smirk as he helped you out with his silk robe. Now, he was just in his boxers, his cock twitching with impatience against its confines. Then, you two quickly began to work at taking off your shirt, throwing it to the ground, next to his robe. He bit his lip as he slid his hands up your waist, seeing your bra cup your breasts perfectly. "Fuck, you ladies are always like fine wine." His hips twitched up slightly, seeking any sort of friction, way too horny right now. You grinned deviously as you sat right on his bulge, earning a guttural groan from him. "Someone's desperate." You gently ran your fingers down his chest, teasing his nipples. His breath quickened as he looked up at you. "You're such a tease-c'mon, be that bold woman like you usually are." He gripped your hips as he grinded up into you.

You nodded. "Of course, handsome." You immediately leaned down and began ravishing him, leaving a trail of hickeys and sloppy kisses starting on his neck, passing by on his collarbone, down to his chest, as your tongue glided across his skin in all the right ways, causing him to grind up into you harder, seeking more friction as he groaned deeply and moaned softly, biting his lip and closing his eyes, enjoying the sensations. You came back from eating him up, admiring all the hickeys you left on him. He opened his eyes and looked up at you. "Don't stop now." He muttered out in a hoarse voice, his bulge desperately twitching against the fabric of your clothing. "Oh, I won't, baby." You said as you hopped off his crotch, crawling down and grabbing ahold of his underwear, pulling down. His hard cock sprung out immediately, which caused you to chuckle. "Wow, Ben, you're already so hard for me." He grinned smugly. "What can I say? With a pretty face and a sexy body like that grinding up against me-oh shit—" He was quickly cut off by your tongue swirling around his dick, lubing it up essentially.

After his cock was all wet, your hand wrapped around it. "Ready?" You asked with a smirk. "Work your hands already, woman." He said impatiently, trying his best to keep his hips from twitching, ultimately failing. You raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?" You began to stroke his frenulum with some decent pressure, your other hand getting to work on his tip. His breath hitched as both of his most sensitive spots were targeted. He put his hand up. "Wha-H-Hold on a minute! Let me..adjust.." He said, his voice being laced with embarrassment. "Speak to me with respect then." You said in a more authoritative tone. He grumbled, rolling his eyes with a nod. You began to slowly stroke the shaft part of his hard cock, being a bit more gentle...Though, you had way more planned for him. He leaned his head back with a content sight. "Oh come on, you can go faster than that." He said in a snarky tone. You obliged, stroking his cock faster, making sure to focus on the tip more. His groaned and nodded. "Yeah, that's good." He bit his lip, looking down at you, his cock twitched from the sight of you.

I wanna save you time, so I'll just say, this went on for..a while. Why? Because you edged him at least 5 times. At first he was annoyed and confused, which then subsided into desperation.

"If you really wanted to cum...well...you'd ask." You smirked, slowly and painfully stroking his sensitive frenulum, squeezing his cock, watching him twitch and squirm as pre-cum leaked from his red tip. "Fuck...I should've fuckin' known-mmmgh." He thrusted his hips up in your hand, his breathing being ragged. "C'mon already, make me cum.please." He breathed out, his eyebrows furrowing as he gripped the pillow next to him. "Well, there is another option, it'll double the pleasure even." You offered with a devious grin, your other hand giving his balls a slight squeeze, causing him to moan. "What's-What's that, huh?" He swallowed down the moans that so badly wanted to be let out. He needed to cum so badly. "Fingering you." You bluntly stated. "What?" He almost looked offended.

A thousand years after teasing and convincing.

"Alright, alright. Fine. As long as you promise to let me cum." He said, closing his eyes..it felt so emasculating and humiliating. "I will, I will, I know how this is for you." You licked your two fingers, (Yes, I know that's not enough lube, just pretend it is) sliding one in. He grunted, it felt a little painful for the first few seconds.. that was until you immediately targeted his prostate. It was definitely a new feeling, but it felt real good. He let out a quivering moan. "What the fuck was that?" His breath began to become heavier again. You smirked. "You like that, huh?" Your fingers began to slowly pump into him, rubbing against his prostate each time as your other hands began to work at his tip and frenulum, stroking them. Right now, you were hitting three sensitive spots all at once, and he was writhing in pleasure. He panted, his abs flexing as he let out strained moans and practically wheezed breathes as he tried not to seem like he was enjoying himself.

You leaned back up to kiss him, he immediately accepted, taking this as an opportunity to hide some moans of his. His legs twitched and quivered as you slid your knuckle against his prostate, your hand slicking against his aching cock. He almost whined when you squeezed his tip. You then broke the kiss. "More? 'Cause I've got more tricks." He managed to focus his eyes onto you. "Y-Yeah-sure, why no-" He was suddenly cut off by the sensation of..vibrating? Right up against his sensitive spots. "Oh fuck—..oh fuck, oh-fffffuck!— How the hell are you doing that?-Hauh." Now he was really shaking, squirming around, his hands frantically feeling around to find something to grip on, which ended up being your arm and the couch, holding onto it for dear life as he let moans and groans slip out, one after another. "A magician never reveals her secrets.." You replied cheekily, beginning to kiss down his neck. He gulped, trying to catch some air as you sped up your pace, now being less gentle with him, which caused his eyes to roll back. Your fingers went in and out of him faster, your hands stroked his cock in all the right places, all while vibrating at the same time...it was almost too much...

Was this overstimulation? It was almost painful, but in a good kind of way, it was like you wanted it to stop but needed it to keep going. "I'm gonna cum—I'm gonna blow my load right now—" He strained out, panting as his legs squirmed around. He looked up at you with desperate eyes, his hand now gripping your shoulder tightly. "Don't stop-don't you dare fucking stop-ah-y-you promised..ttto not..stop!" He was almost growling now, he truly did need to cum, otherwise he'd lose his mind. "You're right, I promised, so cum, bust all over everything." You nodded as you stroked his tip faster, your hands now pumping straight into him, stroking against his prostate with each thrust. "Yes, yes, yesyesyesyes— c'mon!-" He moaned out, reaching the peak of ecstasy. "Ohhh, fuuuck, Y/N!" He moaned out as he threw his head back, tensing up, twitching and shaking violently as a load of semen squirted out of his cock, even having a prostate orgasm. This was the most intense orgasm he's ever had, probably because it was two big O's. He shook and moaned for a solid 30 seconds before he managed to calm down a little from the intense high.

There was a big mess to say the least. His cum was all over his abdomen, your hand, the couch. "Shit, you were seriously pent up. You alright now?" Now, he was able to make coherent thoughts instead of just, 'Oh fuck’ "Probably because you edged me five damn times-" He quickly shut up when he saw you lick his cum off your fingers, feeling a little tingle. "Damn, you know how to play my cards." He grumbled, lazily smirking, causing you to chuckle, grinning along with him.

Needless to say, he enjoyed himself quite a bit.

THE END.

#the boys #the boyz #soldier boy #jensen ackles #need that #needy wh0re #sub!character #dom!reader #desperate slvt #subby boys

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tfyoulookingatgiuxs · 7 months ago

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You're not the only one who asked me to do a part two of "Together Forever" so I'll oblige you right away. Sorry if I'm late... :(

You can't stop us

Billy Hargrove x Female!Reader

(PART 2 OF TOGETHER FOREVER. PART 1 -> HERE )

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: After you finally arrived in California your dreams begin to come true, for both you and Billy, but the threats still lurk but you both were ready for any eventuality.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Fluff, angst, fem!reader, stalking, bad language, daddy issues, comfort, attempted murder, weapons, mention of blood, too much drama.

𝐀/𝐍: So, I admit that I received requests for a part 2 on "Together Forever" but I thought "Nah, I'll never be able to do a second part, in short the one shot ends here" but thinking about it I wanted to try and then I felt like I'm guilty of not wanting to satisfy you. And here it is, I hope I have made my way into your hearts and satisfied you as always, obviously let me know what you think! Sorry for my english this is not my native language. Please support and reblog. Hope you enjoy! (DIVIDER NOT MINE)

In the middle of the road in the dark where the streetlights illuminated the path towards California, that evening even if you were happy you couldn't help but admit that you were nervous, both you and Billy were escaping from the city, from your home which in the end was never such, especially for your boyfriend. Billy was worried that when his father found out about his escape, would come looking for him, and when he came to get him he would face the wrath of a man who would have no qualms about beating his own son. But you reassured him, you told him that everything would be fine, you were prepared, you had it in your head that you would face and console any of his worries. Driving and looking at the road calmed him down and in fact during the journey you noticed his breathing becoming regular again. Before it was a mixture of many emotions that he didn't know how to handle, he still has to digest all this and you didn't expect it to happen right away.

During the journey Billy admired the rain beating on the glass and the street lights, while you fell into a deep sleep. Needless to say, Billy took the opportunity to admire your face those times he had to stop at a traffic light. You arrived at your destination after a couple of hours. You had suggested to Billy that you stop in front of a hotel where you would spend most of your time, at least until you found a house. The money you had set aside for this occasion was enough for your plans. You told Billy about a house by the sea and he went crazy at the idea. He would wait though, you wanted to take it slow and your boyfriend shared your thoughts.

"How do you feel?" You asked him as soon as the two of you entered your room. The lady at the counter didn't pay attention to the time and that's why she didn't say anything and left you the room keys. Billy looked impressed and still slightly agitated.

"Strange..." he admitted catching a glimpse of his smirk. Until two years ago, he didn't think he'd set foot in California again, but there he is. In a hotel room in California.

"I feel strange too. Change has an indescribable taste" as scary as change may seem you knew it was just a matter of habit.

"Yeah..." your boyfriend seemed really speechless, he watched you for a moment and you both burst into joyful laughter. You gave him a kiss and then took a good look at his emerald green eyes.

"Now let's go to sleep, it's late" Billy hugged you sighing.

"Do you think we'll make it?" You placed a candid kiss on his neck.

"Yes, we'll always do it, babe" you cheered him up. You both then went to sleep sleepy but happy to have taken the first step. The rain continued to fall and this was the soundtrack that resonated in that evening full of emotions.

You and Billy stayed at that hotel for a couple of weeks. Billy found a job as a lifeguard again at a busy pool nearby, while you easily found a job as a nurse in a hospital in San Francisco. In fact, after three months spent at the hotel, together you moved right there, to San Francisco, to the house that overlooked the sea. Billy was truly happier than ever, you had never seen him like this, you were proud and satisfied to have finally made Billy Hargrove happy, the boy who was as popular as he was unhappy in his own life. However, you decided not to be heard from again, especially with Billy's family. You were still in contact with your parents and every now and then you would inform each other about what was going on in Hawkins.

Needless to say, the Hargorve family went nuts, called the police and reported Billy missing. Your boyfriend didn't care about this, he was fine with it, he wanted to stay there with you and hope that everything went well.

“I won't let that bastard find us, I assure you” He said as soon as you put the phone down.

“I understand babe, but in case he does we should be careful” The thought of Billy's father finding you terrified you. You were happy and intent on building a future together, thinking that someone would destroy your dreams alarmed you, especially if the person who destroyed them was the man who had ruined Billy's childhood.

“You know if your father finds us all hell will break loose” you walked closer to him. The night succumbed to what was your new home. Still not well organised. All you had was a mattress with blankets in the bedroom and a newly built kitchen thanks to your father who came to visit you. Luckily, your parents have always been by your side and they came to visit you, they met Billy, welcoming him with open arms and offered to buy you some furniture for the new house. Your boyfriend loved them. They were kind and thoughtful, they wanted the best for you and they promised him that they would do everything to please you. The only fear these encounters could spark was whether someone would follow them or somehow bring the Hargrove family to you.

Billy, wearing his white tank top let out a sigh and looked into your eyes.

"I can only imagine it. It will definitely kill us" you took his hand to reassure him in some way.

"But we would make sure he didn't do it. If one day he were to find us we would be ready for anything, okay?" He nodded and rested his forehead on yours.

“I'll leave it to your clever nurse mind” you laughed, he had really been obsessed since you got the job.

"Do you like the fact that I'm a nurse, Hargrove?" You teased him lightly and he admired your lips.

"Pretty much," he replied with that bad boy grin that accompanied him throughout his school years. You pulled him into a kiss, forgetting the discomfort that your problems caused you, you needed to leave them aside and think about yourselves for a moment.

It had now been almost a year since you and Billy decided to escape from Hawkins and the situation seemed to be improving. The house was well structured, now you no longer slept in a narrow mattress but in a real double bed. They were all satisfactions that you didn't think would come true. You worked a lot on the house together with your parents. Your father bought you the sofa for the living room as a gift and your mother bought you the television. You were happy with these unexpected gifts, especially when you looked at Billy's smug look in amazement. Speaking of the rest, you bought everything yourself. Home was no longer a problem! It was as you expected. Convenient and comfortable and will fully satisfy your needs. The fear that someone might find out about your escape had passed and your mother no longer reported news of Billy's disappearance. You thought that the police had most likely realized that Billy Hargrove had run away from home and therefore dropped the matter, and this heartened you.

Every now and then you stopped to gaze out over the California sea, not mentioning the fact that Billy had started surfing again when you came to the beach. Like a child, he kept jumping the two meter high wave and this almost made you cry. You wanted to know if his mother was proud of him now, if she had deigned to see him like this at least one last time before abandoning him to his cruel fate.

Now it had become a fixed appointment to come there every Friday to savor the beauty of the sea, too bad for you that today Billy had to work in the afternoon, so you decided to take a walk alone along the beach while the sound of the seagulls dragged you to the one it seemed to be an eternal peace. It was getting late and you went home with your sandals still dirty with sand. Your house wasn't that far away so you made the journey on foot. It wasn't dark, the days had gotten longer but the feeling of being chased began to pervade your mind. You turned around and a hooded man was two meters away from you. You didn't want to give it any weight, maybe you were wrong. However, anxiety began to boil in your blood when the man continued to be behind you. You were alone on that sidewalk in a street where there wasn't a living soul.

Out of fear you started running and the man behind you shouted the worst things at you: insults of all kinds, insults against your family and more. You didn't know this person but you were hoping to somehow outshine him. You arrived home in a panic, quickly opened the front door and locked yourself in and started crying. While he chased you you didn't scream or cry for help and you didn't know why. You gave in as soon as you entered the house. Billy came down upon hearing the commotion and as soon as he saw you collapsed in front of the front door crying he immediately headed to you.

"What happened?" He asked worriedly still wearing his red lifeguard uniform, apparently he had just returned. You sobbed but tried to collect yourself. You immediately threw yourself into his arms still with the ongoing shock.

"He chased me. I-I don't know this man but he chased me and yelled at me" you explained trying not to stutter. Your boyfriend hugged you, replying that everything will be fine and to describe the man.

“I didn't get a good look at his face, he had a hood on and his head was bowed as he walked” You answered him and he nodded and that idea immediately crossed your mind “What if your father found us?” Your boyfriend turned pale at the thought and immediately checked out the windows. Meanwhile you calmed down and your tears stopped.

"There's no one outside" he began and in the meantime you wiped those dried tears on your face.

Billy approached you "Everything will be fine, if that dickhead dares to show up he will find us ready to welcome him" He smiled at you and for a moment you stopped to look at him.

In all this time you hadn't actually thought about what if his father would find you. You always wanted to believe that one day it would never happen and that you were most likely just putting on too much air, but instead he was there chasing you and spitting all his arrogant phrases at you. Billy, however, did not lose hope, he was determined and hid a grudge, the one he held back for years. You stood up and silence fell. The sunset was splendid but the tension didn't let you enjoy the view you would have liked to admire at the sea.

Suddenly two clear shots shattered the living room windows and you let out a scream.

"Billy!" A man yelled outside your house "I know you're there, you and that bitch of yours, come out!" Furious as if you had unleashed the wrath of a divine god, he continued to fire undaunted until he reloaded.

"Go away!" The son answered from the broken window, he couldn't go out, it would have been too dangerous, you immediately ran to the phone calling the police.

"Don't you dare to give me order!" Another shot, but this time towards the boy who luckily had dodged the shot.

“I said: go away!” He repeated as his eyes became teary. He wanted to give in but was refusing to. You stood there watching him fearing for his life which was currently more at risk than yours.

The police told you they would be there soon and you jumped down when you heard another shot.

"Babe be careful!" You warned him.

"Come on Billy! Be a sissy, be a limp dick, just like your mother" That was enough to trigger his anger. Your boyfriend walked out of the house and was confronted by his "beloved" father. You called him back scared but he just ignored you. In that instant you saw the worst version of Billy. You saw the pain that had ruined him, the violence he had suffered that made him aggressive and violent just by looking at him. You stood still in front of the front door staring at him, the gun of the man in front of him threatened him not to make another misstep. His gaze fixed on his father, as if he had no fear, but you knew all too well that Billy feared him more than anything.

The man started laughing "There he is! Billy Hargrove, the missing boy from Hawkins. Your mother was worried, you worried everyone, including your sister! For what? To have a fling with the first slut you found on the street" a punch she hit him "Don't you dare to call her that!" Billy said then punched him.

"You ruined my life!" He managed to say, but instead of wanting to vent with words he preferred to damage his face. You were mortified at the sight, but you skipped a beat as soon as you saw the man pointing the gun at the boy.

"Billy!" You screamed at the top of your lungs running towards him. A blow on his leg that made him scream out in pain. The man struggled to get up, but before letting him make one last move you thought of grabbing his sandaled sandals as you ran towards your bleeding boyfriend. You threw them at him and the sand hit him in the face, blinding him. He put his hands on his face, but pointed the gun forward and fired blindly. From behind you took the gun and threw him to the ground.

You turned to Billy who forcefully stood up with his leg hurting.

"Are you alright?" You said out of breath due to the adrenaline of the moment. He nodded. The sound of police sirens could be heard in the distance and the man on the ground opened one eye, taking in the sights.

"It's over, Father" Billy said the last word, marking it with seriousness, as if it were a threat.

“You are like me, and soon this girl will understand it too” He dared to say.

“He's not like you, he's the opposite and I won't let you ruin his life again” You allowed yourself to say.

The police arrived and with them also the ambulance after seeing an injured person. You had escaped a real danger, surely your mother would have pestered you with calls to find out about your health, but at the moment you didn't want to think about it. Billy sat in the back of the ambulance while they stopped his bleeding by covering it with a bandage. You approached and together you saw the man being arrested. You still didn't know how he managed to find you, but one thing was certain: he hadn't succeeded in his aim. Your boyfriend looked at you.

"See? We did it" he said, you gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"I would say so" He smiled at you.

"You saved my life Nurse Williams" You sat next to him.

"It's not true, I didn't do anything, I just got lucky" You didn't feel like a heroine, at all. You hadn't worried about whether this moment would come one day, so you just felt like a ignorant for putting your problems aside.

"Lucky or not, this is proof that no one can stop us. Luck or not" You rested your head on his shoulder.

He was absolutely right.

#stranger things #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove angst #stranger things billy #billy hargrove #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove fluff

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shortnspidey · 2 months ago

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CHAPTER SIX: ROCK N' ROLL DREAM

Eddie Munson x OC!Reader || WC: 4.6K

A/N: now without further ado, the chapter everyone has been waiting for, I made sure to make this chapter a long one!! Enjoy! 🤭

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A rollercoaster of emotions were swirling through Lyra's mind. In the past twenty-four hours, she had felt so many unprecedented feelings that had been suppressed for years, bubbling up to the surface like a shaken soda can ready to explode. Memories of happier times mixed with the current turmoil, creating a chaotic storm within her. She knew that Billy hated change, clinging to the familiar like a lifeline. But the more time they spent in Hawkins, the longer he became unrecognizable to her.

Lyra remembered the days when Billy was her protector, always looking out for her with a fierce loyalty. But now, his actions were more erratic and unpredictable. She could see the anger simmering just beneath the surface, a ticking time bomb waiting to go off. The small town of Hawkins, with its eerie stillness and lurking shadows, seemed to amplify his inner demons, turning him into someone she could barely understand.

The weight of the past and the uncertainty of the future pressed heavily on Lyra's shoulders. She felt a pang of guilt, wondering if there was something she could have done differently, some way to reach out to the brother she once knew. The howling wind snapped her out of her inner turmoil as she hugged the leather jacket closer to her body so that it would provide some much needed comfort and warmth that she desperately needed. The cold air bit at her cheeks, turning them a rosy shade, and her breath formed small clouds in the frigid night.

She took a second to distract herself by analyzing Tina's backyard. The yard was a spectacle of Halloween creativity. Fake cobwebs stretched between the trees, glistening in the moonlight, and plastic skeletons hung from the branches, swaying gently in the wind. Teenagers from Hawkins certainly knew how to throw a rager. However the decorations and trash that littered the yard weren’t the only thing that caught Lyra’s attention. She was quick to noticed a shadowy figure completely isolated from everyone. The only indication that she wasn't out there alone was the amber glow of their cigarette.

Letting her eyes adjust to the darkness she noticed that he was wearing a costume she definitely recognized for the first time all night. He was dressed in tight black jeans, a leather jacket adorned with metal studs, and a wild mane of curly hair that framed his face. Without thinking too much about it, her feet carried her over to the stranger, the words tumbling out of her mouth before she could stop them. "Kirk Hammet." The stranger in question nearly spat out the beer he had taken a swing from.

He swore he was hallucinating, that is until his eyes met Lyra's. "W-What?" He spluttered trying to wrap his head around the fact that a pretty girl knew who he was dressed up as. "I like your costume, bold choice." The stranger chuckled nervously, running a hand through his curly hair. "Well if the shoe fits." He gestured to himself theatrically. "Thanks, not many people get it. You into Metallica?" His voice was a mix of surprise and curiosity, the kind that made Lyra feel a little less like an outsider in this sea of unfamiliar faces.

"Yeah, you could say that," She replied, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. The night air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of pine and the distant laughter of partygoers. Breaking the silence, Lyra watched as the long-haired stranger reached behind him to grab a metal lunchbox, its surface adorned with stickers of various rock bands. "So, you interested in some of the devil's lettuce, sweetheart?" He asked, shaking it comically, the contents rattling inside.

Lyra couldn't help but scoff, her breath visible in the chilly air. "You're a dealer?" She raised her brow in question, her curiosity piqued. "Only the best in Hawkins," He smirked, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Eddie Munson at your service." He bowed theatrically, his wild curls bouncing with the movement. Lyra chuckled, feeling a strange sense of camaraderie in his presence. "As much as I appreciate the offer, that's more my brother’s vice rather than mine," She replied, her voice tinged with amusement.

Eddie's face fell slightly, but he quickly recovered, a playful grin spreading across his face. "Shit, I'll make myself scarce then," He said, pretending to tip an invisible hat before turning to leave. But before he could take a step, Lyra reached out, her fingers brushing against his arm. The contact was brief, but it sent a jolt of warmth through her, grounding her in the moment. "Wait," She said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "You don't have to go." Eddie's eyes softened, and he nodded, taking a step closer.

The night seemed a little less cold, and the world outside Tina's backyard felt a little less daunting. Breaking the silence, Lyra watched as the long-haired stranger, Eddie Munson, settled down beside her on the weathered bench. The wood creaked under his weight, adding to the symphony of crickets chirping in the background. He leaned back, his eyes scanning the star-strewn sky above, a thoughtful expression on his face. "So you're the new girl I've been hearing so much about." He concluded putting two and two together. His voice was low and smooth, carrying a hint of curiosity.

Lyra shrugged, turning to face him, her eyes reflecting the twinkling stars above. "What gave it away?" She questioned, her tone light but her eyes searching his face for an answer. "Well," He started holding up his finger. "For one I've never seen you around, and I'd remember someone with good taste in music." And two," He held up two fingers. "Gossip travels fast at the hellhole that is Hawkins High." Lyra chuckled softly, the sound blending with the distant rustle of leaves. The air was cool, but the warmth of their budding conversation kept the chill at bay.

Eddie's eyes sparkled with a mix of mischief and genuine interest, making her feel oddly at ease. "So, you got a name, or am I going to have to call you sweetheart all night?" He teased, his smile widening. "Lyra," She replied, her voice steady but soft. The name felt like a bridge between them, a small but significant step towards familiarity. Eddie nodded, as if committing her name to memory. "Lyra," He repeated, letting the name roll off his tongue. The way he said her name made it feel like more than just a formality; it felt like the beginning of something new and unexpected.

"You got another cigarette on you, Eddie?" Lyra questioned teasingly, quite confident that she knew the answer. "You wound me," He muttered, digging the pack out of the inside of his leather jacket. "Never leave home without it, even if I promised my uncle I'd quit." He pulled out a cigarette and handed it to her, the silver rings on his fingers catching the faint light from the porch. Lyra took the cigarette, feeling the cool paper between her fingers. The smell of tobacco mixed with the earthy scent of the night air, creating a strangely comforting aroma.

Eddie struck his lighter, the brief flare of light illuminating his face before he held the flame to her cigarette. She inhaled deeply, the smoke curling up into the night sky, blending with the misty breath of the cool evening. Eddie leaned back, his own cigarette dangling from his lips. "You know," He said, exhaling a cloud of smoke, "My uncle's always on my case about these things. Says they're gonna be the death of me." He chuckled, a sound that was more resigned than amused. Lyra watched the smoke drift away, her thoughts momentarily lost in the swirling patterns.

"Yeah, well, sometimes it's the little rebellions that keep us sane," She replied, her voice tinged with a quiet defiance. She glanced over at Eddie, noticing the way his eyes softened, as if he understood more than he let on. The night seemed to stretch on, the silence between them comfortable and unforced. "So what's your story?" Eddie asked catching Lyra by surprise. She raised her brow in question urging him to continue. "You don't drink or smoke weed, but you smoke tobacco and ride a motorcycle," He thought aloud, his tone carrying a hint of admiration. Eddie's gaze met hers, and for a moment, it felt like they were the only two people in the world.

“Don’t forget, I also like metal,” She added with a smirk, the edges of her lips curling into a playful grin. The sound of distant laughter and the rustling of leaves filled the air, but their focus remained solely on each other. “Right, how could I forget,” He teased, making Lyra smile, her cheeks flushing slightly in the cool night air. After a beat of silence, almost as if Eddie was trying to figure out exactly what to say, he finally spoke. "You're interesting," He concluded, his voice filled with genuine curiosity and admiration.

This made Lyra let out a chuckle, the sound light and melodic, blending seamlessly with the rustling leaves around them. "Says the resident metalhead - drug dealer," She sassed back, motioning to him and his metal lunchbox, which he always carried with an air of nonchalance. "Touché," He smirked, taking a long drag out of his cigarette, which was almost out. "I gotta ask, how'd you even get into metal in the first place?" Eddie questioned. "Well," Her eyes flickered with nostalgia as she thought back to her childhood.

"When you have a brother who blasts it 24/7, it tends to grow on you." She could almost hear the distant echoes of guitars and drums coming from Billy's room, the relentless beats becoming the soundtrack of her formative years. "Besides," She smirked to herself, her eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. "Axl Rose's ass looks amazing in leather." She snickered, recalling the posters that she had admired everyday on the walls of Billy's room. "Jesus H. Christ," Eddie groaned, falling backwards on the wooden bench dramatically.

"You're one of those girls." Lyra scoffed, teasingly shoving his shoulder. "You know if you're ever interested in hearing some live metal music sometime and giving your ole’ Walkman a break, my band and I play at the Hideout on Tuesdays." He suggested, his voice carrying a hint of hopeful excitement. "Why does it not surprise me that you're in a bad." Lyra thought aloud, her eyes twinkling with amusement. Eddie was about to give her a witty remark when she interrupted, her curiosity piqued. "Let me guess, with your theatrics, you're the lead guitarist too?"

"And lead singer most nights." He announced proudly, puffing out his chest a bit. The pride in his voice was unmistakable, and Lyra couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm. "So you're one of those guys." Lyra teased throwing his words from earlier back at him. Eddie couldn't help the smile that made it's way on his face. There was absolutely no way that a pretty girl liked metal and appreciated his humor. "Maybe I could get your number and-" Only Eddie didn't get to finish his sentence. A sudden loud crash from a nearby alley interrupted him, causing both of them to look in that direction.

Hearing the commotion of "Ooos" coming from inside the house made goosebumps arise on Lyra's skin. That could not be good. The night air felt suddenly colder, the chill seeping into her bones as she tried to gauge the situation. "Duty calls?" Eddie asked, immediately noticing Lyra's shift in demeanor. His voice was gentle, yet tinged with curiosity and concern. Lyra turned to give Eddie a remorseful look, wishing she could stay in his company longer. The warmth and ease of their conversation had been a rare comfort. "I'm so sorry,” She apologized, seeing the disappointment swimming in his chocolate doe eyes.

“I just have a feeling that my brother is somehow involved and we have a curfew," She explained, her voice tinged with frustration and a hint of regret. She could feel the weight of responsibility pulling her away. "No biggie sweetheart, just get home safe, alright." Eddie replied with a reassuring smile. His calm and understanding demeanor was a stark contrast to the chaos she anticipated inside. "Thanks, Eddie," She smiled, grabbing her helmet. "It was really nice to meet you." With an affectionate squeeze to his bicep, Lyra ran inside to see what all the commotion was about, her heart pounding with a mix of anxiety and the lingering warmth of their brief connection.

Upon entering the house, which was now even more trashed than when she arrived, Lyra maneuvered herself through drunken bodies to try and find the source of the commotion. The air was thick with the smell of alcohol, and the sound of loud, off-key singing mixed with laughter still filled the room. She carefully stepped over broken glass and discarded cups, her eyes scanning the chaotic scene for any sign of trouble. She let out a breath of relief seeing as Billy was nowhere to be seen, yet she worried that was a bad sign too.

The last time she saw him, he was already on edge, and his absence now could mean he was getting into even more trouble elsewhere. Those thoughts were quickly put on pause as someone from behind crashed into her. She clutched onto her shoulder, hoping that her hand could relieve the sting before turning to give the drunk partygoer a piece of her mind. "Watch where you're going!" She hissed, only she was taken aback due to making eye contact with 'King Steve'. The same person her brother was face to face with hours earlier.

Upon noticing his disheveled hair and red-rimmed eyes, Lyra momentarily felt bad for yelling. Steve Harrington wanted nothing more than to snap back at the blonde girl in front of him, but decided against it. Instead he shook his head, his expression a mix of frustration and exhaustion, and made his way to the front door without another look back. “Asshole.” She muttered stretching out her aching shoulder and took a deep breath, trying to shake off the residual anger. Suddenly, she heard a slurred curse behind her, "S-Shit!" Spinning around, she saw a drunken girl stumbling, her eyes half-closed and her movements unsteady.

Lyra quickly stepped forward, just in time to steady the girl who looked like she could pass out any second. "Woah, are you okay?" Lyra questioned, her voice softening with concern as she looked into the girl's glazed eyes, trying to gauge her condition. The girl's makeup was smeared, and her hair was a tangled mess, suggesting she had been through quite an ordeal. "I'm f-fine," She slurred, her words barely coherent. Yet Lyra could tell by her disheveled appearance and the way she swayed unsteadily that she was far from fine. The strong smell of alcohol lingered around her, her clothes were wrinkled and slightly damp a red splotch staining the white material.

"Let's get you some fresh air, okay?" Lyra suggested, trying to guide her towards the door. She placed a supportive arm around the girl's shoulders, feeling the cold sweat on her skin. Yet before Lyra could direct her outside, a familiar voice interrupted. "Woah, Nancy, what happened?" Jonathan Byers questioned, his eyes widening with concern as he took in the scene. He stepped closer, his brow furrowing in worry. A moment of realization seemed to cross Nancy's face before she looked at Jonathan, her voice barely above a whisper. "Steve's bullshit," She muttered, her words thick with emotion and fatigue.

Her eyes were red-rimmed, and she looked like she had been crying. Jonathan frowned, his worry deepening as he glanced between Lyra and Nancy. "I need to get her home," He announced, taking a gentle but firm hold of Nancy's forearm. He began to steer her towards the front door, his grip steadying her as she stumbled slightly. Nancy's breathing was shallow, and she leaned heavily on Jonathan, her head drooping as if the weight of the world was pressing down on her. "Let me help you," Lyra insisted, her voice filled with concern and urgency as she followed closely behind Jonathan. She reached out to support Nancy's other side, her hands trembling slightly with worry.

The trio moved slowly through the crowded room, weaving between groups of people who were oblivious to the unfolding drama. As they reached the front door, the cool night air rushed in, bringing a momentary sense of relief. The stars were faintly visible against the dark sky, and the distant hum of traffic provided a soothing backdrop. Lyra could feel the tension in Nancy's body begin to ease slightly, but she knew they still had a long way to go. She glanced at Jonathan, who nodded in appreciation, his eyes reflecting the same concern and determination that she felt. Together, they guided Nancy outside, hoping that the fresh air and the quiet of the night would help her recover.

As they reached Jonathan's car, Lyra was quick to pull his passenger car door open so that he could gently place Nancy inside without much of a struggle. Nancy slumped into the seat, her eyes half-closed, as Jonathan carefully buckled her in, making sure she was comfortable and secure before shutting the door softly. Turning to Lyra he fiddled with his fingers, his eyes darting around nervously. "I, um, saw your brother passed out by the tree on the side of the house," He informed her, his voice tinged with concern. She was unable to stifle the eye roll, knowing that dealing with Billy was going to be a challenge.

Lyra couldn't help but roll her eyes, the exasperation clear on her face. The image of her brother sprawled out under the tree flashed in her mind, adding to her already mounting stress. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was to come, while Jonathan gave her a sympathetic look, his hands now resting on the roof of the car. "I'll take care of it," She sighed a hint of exasperation crossing her face. "Get home safe," At her words he nodded, giving Lyra a reassuring smile. He jumped into the driver's seat of his car, the engine roaring to life as he turned the key. With a final wave, he drove off into the night, leaving Lyra to deal with Billy. She watched the taillights disappear around the corner, the weight of the night's events settling heavily on her shoulders.

Taking another deep breath, she turned back towards the house, her footsteps echoing softly on the gravel driveway. The porch light flickered, casting eerie shadows that seemed to dance with the wind. She hoped that Billy wouldn't be too far out of it, but as she neared the side of the house, her hopes were quickly dashed. Sure enough, just as Jonathan had said, Billy was sprawled out, nursing a bottle of god knows what in his hand. The smell of alcohol hit her before she even reached him, a pungent mix of whiskey and stale beer. As she reached him, she couldn't help but wrinkle her nose in disgust.

"Jesus, Billy, you smell like a bar. How much did you drink?" She muttered, crouching down to his level. She gently pried the bottle from his hand, her fingers brushing against his clammy skin. The night was far from over, and as she helped him to his feet, she knew that the real challenge was just beginning. "K-Keg King." He slurred, a sloppy smile spreading across his face. For a brief moment, he seemed proud of himself, but the smile quickly faded when he caught sight of his sister's hardened expression. The disappointment in her eyes was unmistakable, and it cut through his drunken haze like a knife.

"Keys," Lyra demanded, holding her hand out, her voice firm and unwavering. She wasn't in the mood for any of his usual antics. Her patience was wearing thin, and all she wanted was to get him inside and away from any more trouble. Billy fumbled in his pockets, the sound of jingling keys breaking the tense silence. Finally, he pulled them out and dropped them into her waiting hand, his head hanging low in shame. Lyra clenched the keys in her hand, the cold metal biting into her palm. She took a deep breath, steadying herself before wrapping an arm around Billy's waist to support him. They stumbled together towards his Camaro, the gravel crunching under their feet in the quiet night.

"You can't keep drowning your problems in alcohol." Billy's head lolled to the side, his eyes half-closed. "I'm fine." He mumbled, his words barely coherent. Lyra shook her head, guiding him into the passenger seat and buckling him in, only taking her eyes off of him to throw her helmet in the backseat. "This isn't fine," She said softly, more to herself than to him. She walked around to the driver's side, her mind racing with thoughts of what to do next. As she started the car, she glanced over at Billy, who had already drifted off to sleep. She sighed, the weight of responsibility settling heavily on her shoulders.

Just then like a bucket of ice water being dumped onto her, she realized that she and Billy had come to the party separated. Her eyes darted to the spot where her motorcycle was still parked a few feet away, gleaming under the streetlights. There was no way she was about to leave her prized possession in someone else's driveway overnight. "Shit," She muttered to herself, fighting the exhaustion that was beginning to cloud her mind. She needed to formulate a coherent plan, but her brain felt sluggish and uncooperative. The thought of abandoning her bike gnawed at her, but so did the idea of leaving Billy alone in his current state.

Almost as if someone was answering her thoughts, Lyra spotted the familiar unruly hair of Eddie Munson, a few feet away throwing his metal lunchbox into a van. This was her only chance. "Stay in the car." Lyra demanded throwing the drivers seat open. Hearing those words, Billy woke up from his drunken slumber, sitting up straighter and fumbling with his seatbelt. "But-" Lyra's harsh voice cut him off. "Billy I mean it!" She all but growled, her patience snapping. "Stay. In. The. Car." With those final words she slammed the door to his Camaro shut leaving no more room for argument.

"Eddie, wait!" She called out, sprinting towards him, her heart pounding in her chest. Eddie turned, his eyes widening in surprise as he saw her approaching. "Lyra? What's going on?" He asked, concern etched on his face. "I need your help," She said breathlessly, glancing back at the car where Billy was slumped. He followed her line of sight, his brows furrowing momentarily. "I need to get him home, but I drove my motorcycle here. Is there any way, and of course if you don't mind, can we store my motorcycle in the back of your trunk? Just for tonight I promise I'll-" Yet her rambling was cut short. "Hey," Eddie coaxed placing his hands on her shoulders reassuringly.

"Slow down." He spoke softly, his touch grounding her in the moment. She could feel the warmth of his hands through her jacket, a stark contrast to the chill of the night air. "Go grab your motorcycle, I'll make room in the back of my van, okay?" His words were a balm to her frazzled nerves, and she nodded, feeling a wave of relief wash over her. She watched as Eddie moved with purpose, his movements quick and efficient as he opened the van's back doors and began rearranging the clutter inside to make space. Eddie started to move the band's supplies around, carefully stacking amplifiers and drum kits to one side, making sure nothing would topple over during the ride.

He meticulously placed guitar cases and mic stands, his hands moving with a practiced ease that spoke of many nights spent loading and unloading gear. The van, once a chaotic mess of cables and equipment, began to take on a semblance of order under his diligent care. Not feeling confident enough to answer, she simply nodded again, her eyes following Eddie's every move. She could see the determination in his eyes, the way his brow furrowed slightly as he focused on the task at hand. It was a small gesture, but in that moment, it meant the world to her. The sight of Eddie’s methodical movements and the sound of equipment being carefully arranged provided a strange sense of comfort, making her feel that everything would be okay.

As Eddie continued to rearrange the band supplies, Lyra made her way to her motorcycle, with a gentle rumble, she started the engine, the sound a familiar comfort to her ears. Slowly and carefully, she maneuvered the motorcycle towards the waiting van. Eddie glanced up from his task, a smile playing on his lips as he saw her approach. Together, they worked in harmony, coordinating the loading of the motorcycle into the back of the van. Eddie guided her with precise hand signals, ensuring the bike was securely fastened for the journey ahead. With a final click, the van doors were closed, the task completed. As they both stepped back, a sense of accomplishment filled the air. Lyra turned to Eddie, gratitude shining in her eyes. "Keep her safe for me." She whispered, her voice carrying a mix of hope and reliance.

"Scouts honor." He assured, using his fingers and crossing his heart over his leather jacket. The gesture, both earnest and endearing, made a smile make its way onto Lyra's face. "Thanks Rockstar, I owe you one." Even in the moonlight, it was hard to miss the crimson blush that made its way onto Eddie's face. He looked down for a moment, kicking a small pebble with his boot before meeting her gaze again. "Get home safe, alright." Lyra nodded, feeling a sense of peace wash over her. She gave Eddie one last appreciative look before turning to leave, the sound of her boots crunching on the gravel the only noise in the stillness.

As she walked away, she glanced back over her shoulder, catching Eddie's eye one more time. He gave her a small, reassuring wave, and she couldn't help but smile. As she opened the door to the Camaro, the leather seat creaked softly under her weight. Billy jolted awake as Lyra started the engine, his eyes bleary and confused. The soft hum of the engine seemed to pull him fully back to consciousness. Almost as if he remembered that they had driven separately, he voiced Lyra's concern from a few minutes prior. "Y-Your bike." His voice was groggy but filled with genuine worry. "It's safe with a friend." She reassured, her voice calm and steady as she inserted the key into the ignition.

She could feel the familiar vibration of the engine beneath her, a comforting reminder of the freedom and speed that awaited them. With a quick, practiced motion, she shifted gears, and the Camaro roared to life. She glanced at the clock on the dashboard, her eyes widening upon noting the time and realizing that they had to hurry. The thought of Susan and Neil realizing they were out past curfew sent a jolt of adrenaline and through her, stress and anxiety resurfacing. The tires screeched slightly as she pressed the accelerator, the car speeding off into the night.

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chrisbitchtree · 1 year ago

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Of all the things Billy loves about Steve, how funny he is, how attentive he is in bed, how every Saturday night, he makes Billy’s favourite pasta, how he’s always flexible when plans change, like the time they got halfway to California before Billy broke down about leaving Max, so Steve turned the car around, broke the lease on their new place and endured living with his parents for another six months and grovelled to Keith to get his job back so they could afford to save for a place in Hawkins, what he loves the most is how Steve looks the other way when Billy needs to tell lies for self preservation.

Case in point - Billy went to therapy this morning. That had been Steve’s sole request when agreeing to head back to Hawkins, that Billy go to therapy, to work through his complicated emotions about his parents, his sexuality, and everything related to the Mindflayer and Starcourt. Billy had complied, of course he had. How could he not when Steve was giving up something so major for Billy?

Even though it was one of the most difficult things he’s ever done, Billy goes back week after week, talking to a kind older hippyish woman named Gladys about how it felt to have his mother abandon him when he was nine and his father so thoroughly reject everything about him for basically his entire life. It takes so much out of him, leaving him feeling exhausted but hopeful that he can find peace some day.

His sexuality was easier. It didn’t take long for Gladys to help him understand that there’s nothing wrong with who he is and the love that he and Steve share. It feels amazing to go in each week and excitedly tell Gladys about the dinners he and Steve made together or the hikes they’ve gone on, how they were bold enough to hold hands as they walked the unmarked trails.

This morning they did a deep dive into how it felt to have his father beat the sweet, caring, soft little boy out of him, turning Billy into someone that he couldn’t recognize as himself for a long time. Gladys let him cry for a long time, just sitting there patting his hand as the tears flowed.

He’d finally regained his composure long enough to walk to his car, but the second he’d closed the door and buckled his seatbelt, he’d started again, like his tears were a faucet he couldn’t turn off.

He takes Tuesdays, his therapy days, off work, because being around people after cracking his heart so wide open is too tough. It’s usually a good thing, the time to himself, but right now, he’d give anything to be around other people, to be forced to hold the tears back.

But Steve works until 5, so it’s just Billy sitting alone on the couch, crying on and off all afternoon. He barely manages to stop before he hears Steve’s key in the lock.

Steve finds him there, eyes puffy and rimmed red. He stops and takes the sight of him in for a minute before asking if he’s ok.

Billy’s not ready to fully disclose what he talks about in therapy to Steve. He doesn’t want him to think it’s hurting more than it helps, even if some weeks, that’s exactly what it feels like, so he thinks fast.

“Uh, yeah, it’s nothing. Just Days of Our Lives. Patch and Kayla were…” he can’t even finish the sentence before he’s welling up again.

Steve has to know that’s not what’s trouble Billy. Days is Steve’s show, not his. He’s not going to sit in the living room crying over the domestic troubles of the former marine turned mercenary and the love of his life.

But Steve is good and sweet and kind so he just nods and heads to the kitchen. He returns with a pint of ice cream and two spoons and then sits beside Billy, wrapping him in his arms and letting him cry between bites of the cool, creamy treat.

Some day, he’ll share everything with Steve, but for now, this is enough. More than enough. It’s perfect.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #billy x steve #harringrove fic #tw abuse #chrisbitchtree writes

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parkerslatte · 2 years ago

Text

Songbird || FOUR

Eddie Roundtree x Fem!Reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2.6k

Part Summary: Y/N gets an offer of a lifetime and Billy and Camila has some news to share.

previous chapter / next chapter

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

•••

TRACK FOUR;

DANCE PAST MIDNIGHT

…

Y/N L/N: When I found out that they had been signed by Teddy Price, I was excited for them. Of course I was, had only known them for a short time but they had all become like my family. But I was jealous and I’ll admit that now, I never would have back then.

BILLY DUNNE: I was never close with Y/N, but I could tell that there was something bothering her. It all started when we were signed by Teddy Price.

…

Y/N sat in the crowd watching the band perform, nodding her head along to the music. Nearly every night she would be in the crowd watching. On some nights she would still be performing at McNasties but it didn’t feel the same anymore, she didn’t have the same joy she once did.

Camila, who was sitting next to Y/N, turned to look at her. She noticed that she looked completely lost in thought. Camila nudged her lightly with her arm, “Hey, you okay?” She asked.

Y/N’s attention turned to Camila, whose expression was one of concern.

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

Camila didn’t look too convinced but she dropped the subject and turned back to the band on the stage.

…

Y/N L/N: Camila always looked out for everyone, including me. I could tell she knew how I was feeling.

CAMILA DUNNE: Y/N didn’t let her emotions show very often, she kept them bottled up, only letting a few people know her true emotions. I was never one of those people but I could always tell that something was wrong.

…

Sitting at another club watching the band perform, Y/N took a long drag of her cigarette. Camila wasn’t with her at this show, deciding to stay back and have a night in for herself. Y/N wished she joined her, she didn’t know why she continued to watch the band every night.

As she finished off the rest of her drink, Teddy Price sat down in the seat next to her. Y/N was surprised, she had never interacted with Teddy Price and she was even more surprised when he knew who she was.

“Y/N L/N.” Teddy said.

“You know who I am?” Y/N questioned, a smile stretching across her face.

“I’m going to be honest with you, I didn’t know your name until Billy told me,” Teddy revealed, causing Y/N’s smile to falter, “But have heard about a girl, described an awful lot like you, with a unique voice and a talent for songwriting.”

The smile creeped back onto Y/N’s face, “You’ve heard of me before?”

“I have,” Teddy admitted, “And I apologise that I’ve never taken the time out of my day to give you this.”

In Teddy’s hand was a card and on that card was the words Elmar Records in bold letters. Y/N took it, the smile never fading from her face.

“Are you serious?” Y/N asked and Teddy nodded, “Thank you so much.”

“Don’t thank me,” Teddy says, “Billy Dunne is the one you have to thank.”

“Billy?” Y/N questioned, “Why Billy?”

“He gave me a recording of your singing and said to give you a chance,” Teddy says, “If you accept, I’d like to work with you on a few songs, then maybe further down the line, an album.”

Y/N looks at Billy as he performs on stage. From the stage, he catches her eye and gives her a smile before his eyes drift away, looking at other members of the audience.

***

At the end of the show, Y/N walked out of the club alone and into the night air, looking at the card Teddy had given her. Not long after Y/N had left the club, the band came out, all sweaty and filled with adrenaline.

“Y/N!” Warren exclaimed, throwing his arm around her.

“Get off!” Y/N says, ducking out from under his arm and standing next to Karen, “You guys were great up there.”

“We’re making an album!” Billy suddenly yelled, catching the attention of everyone.

Y/N watched as the band celebrated, she was proud of them. Eddie, noticing that Y/N was standing away from them, approached her.

“So, you’re making an album now?” Y/N questioned.

Eddie smiled, “Yeah, I guess we are.”

Y/N smiled and threw her arms around Eddie’s neck, “Congratulations.”

Eddie wrapped his arms around Y/N’s waist and hugged her back.

“I also have some news as well,” Y/N says, pulling away from the hug to reveal the card Teddy had given her, “Teddy wants to work with me on some music.”

“Are you serious?” Eddie says, reaching forward and hugging Y/N again, this time lifting her off her feet, spinning her around, “Y/N that’s amazing!”

Y/N laughed, “Thank you.”

Eddie set Y/N back down on her feet, arms still wrapped around her.

“Woah, what’s going on here?” Warren questioned, stepping over to the two.

Y/N held up the card to show Warren and he took it from her.

“No way!”

Warren pulled Y/N in for a hug and caught the attention of everyone else. Each person congratulated her and Y/N couldn’t contain her excitement. She was surrounded by her family, all of them basking in the good news that they had all received. There was nowhere else she would rather be.

***

Later that evening, Y/N sat in her room carelessly strumming her guitar. She wasn’t really playing anything, just processing the events of the day, nothing had really sunk in yet. Her friends were making an album and Y/N was possibly on her way to making one. Everything was falling into place for her.

A knock on the door interrupted Y/N from her thoughts. Billy stood in the doorway.

“Hey, I thought you were celebrating with the others?” Y/N questioned.

“I was but came to find you,” Billy said, “You’ve got something to celebrate as well.”

Y/N smiled, “And I still haven’t thanked you for it, everything had moved so fast these past couple hours that I haven’t had the chance. So thank you so much Billy, you have no idea what this means to me.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” Billy says, “You’re talented, Y/N, it’s time more people see it.”

Y/N placed her guitar down on her bed and stood to her feet, crossing across the room and wrapping Billy in a hug.

“I’m still going to thank you Billy,” Y/N says, “I’ve been performing at McNasties and a couple other clubs for two years and no producer has ever given me the time of day.”

Y/N pulled away from the hug and stepped away, “Thank you Billy.”

Billy smiled at Y/N before the band was heard from the living room. Together the two walked through the house and into the living room.

“There she is!” Warren exclaimed.

Y/N smiled as the band greeted her and a drink was immediately shoved in her hand. Heading over to the couch, Y/N collapsed down next to Karen, taking a large swig of her drink, relaxing into the couch. Resting her head on Karen’s shoulder, Y/N scanned around the room, everyone talking animatedly.

From across the room Y/N made eye contact with Eddie and she sent him a wink, in turn he smiled looking down at his drink.

…

BILLY DUNNE: Everything had gone so slowly, and then suddenly it was all happening so fast. We recorded our album in six days, had two weeks off, then it was time to hit the road.

Y/N L/N: But of course with The Six, nothing is ever simple with them.

…

Y/N was the first person Camila came to, no one else was in the house and Camila was scared. Y/N had simply been lounging around the house, feeling like she was floating on air after her first meeting with Teddy.

“Y/N?” Camila said, “Can I tell you something?”

Y/N sat up from the couch when hearing Camila’s tone of distress. Her eyes immediately softened, “What’s wrong?”

Camila sat down on the couch next to her, staring ahead, “I’m pregnant.”

Y/N took a moment to let it sink in, “Okay,” Y/N said slowly, “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” Camila said tearfully, “Billy and I, we’ve never spoken about this, and he’s going on tour and he’s going to be away. Y/N I don’t know what to do.”

“Hey,” Y/N says gently, wrapping her arms around Camila, “It’ll be okay, alright. You need to have a talk with Billy when he gets back. Camila, he loves you so much, you shouldn’t be scared about this. No matter what you want to do, you have my full support, okay?”

Camila nodded, clinging onto Y/N, “Thank you, Y/N.”

“Don’t thank me.” Y/N says.

Not too long after the band walked into the living room. Camila had left Y/N alone not too long ago, wanting to wait in her and Billy’s part of the house for him.

Eddie sat next to Y/N on the couch, close enough so his thigh brushed hers, “How was your meeting with Teddy?” He asked.

“It went well,” Y/N says, “He thinks I’m onto something with that song I played for you, I’ve just got to tweak it a little and perfect it.”

“I’m proud of you Y/N.” Eddie says, turning his head to face her.

Y/N smirked, turning her body to face him, “Well, I’m proud of you too. You’re going on tour and you’re going to be fucking amazing.”

“The only sad thing about it is that you’ll be without me for a while.” Eddie teased.

“Sad? I’m excited to get rid of you.” Y/N teased.

Eddie scoffed, “Yeah? I know you’ll miss me.”

“Not really,” Y/N said, “We share a wall, you snore sometimes.”

“No I don’t.” Eddie denies.

“Karen, back me up here, does Eddie snore?” Y/N called to the blonde who sat on the other side of the room.

“Yes,” Karen says, “And quite loudly.”

“See?” Y/N says, “Told you.”

“Whatever.” Eddie dismissed..

Y/N leaned a little closer to him, “In all seriousness, I will miss you,” Y/N wrapped her arms around his torso, cuddling up to him, “I’ll miss everyone.” Eddie wrapped his arm around her shoulders’ holding Y/N close.

Hugging Eddie was a natural thing to Y/N, she was a very touchy person by nature, never receiving a loving touch much as a child so as an adult she overcompensated for it. Whenever she stood near someone she either hugged them or simply linked her arm through theirs. It was Y/N’s way of telling people she was there for them as she was never the best at communicating that through words.

“Everyone,” Billy says, coming into the living room, gaining the attention of everyone, “We have some news.”

Y/N removed her arms from around Eddie and sat up straight, paying attention. She made eye contact with Camila and any doubt and uncertainty that once filled her eyes was gone and excitement replaced it.

“We’re having a baby,” Camila announced.

Everyone’s emotions changed many times in just a few seconds, each person processing the news at a different time. One by one, everyone stood to congratulate the couple.

“But that’s not all…”

…

CAMILA DUNNE: We got married that night.

…

Billy and Camila stood while Warren had Camila’s camera in his hands, attempting to take a photo. Y/N watched the whole thing with a wide smile. She had never been to a wedding before however this was already the best one she would ever be at. She was surrounded by her friends and newfound family.

“Guys, come on we got to take a photo,” Warren says, stumbling around, “Come on, get in there. It’s your wedding night, come on.”

“Your lens cap is on.” Camila says, taking it off the camera.

“Alright, ready, one, two and three.”

…

CAMILA DUNNE: This is the only photo of us from our wedding.

WARREN ROJAS: Mescaline is a powerful drug.

…

Y/N had been up on her feet all night, dancing and enjoying the night with everyone she saw. The pure uncontained joy radiating off Camila transferred to almost everyone at the party. There wasn’t a single person who didn’t have a smile on their face.

“I just need to rest my feet!” Y/N called back to the people she was dancing with.

Y/N sat down on a bench, taking off her shoes completely, massaging her feet. She let out a sigh of relief, her feet in pain from her dancing all night and standing too long. Taking a long sip from her drink, Y/N relaxed onto the bench and looked around the party.

Camila and Billy were together in a corner, talking quietly. Karen and Graham were dancing together with a few others Y/N didn’t know and Warren was standing around with a couple people, completely high out of his mind. Y/N continued to look around the party for Eddie but she couldn’t see him anywhere.

Standing to her feet, Y/N stumbled around in search of her friend. After only a couple of minutes of searching she found him. He was sitting alone a little distance away from the party but not far enough that he would have completely left it.

“What are you doing here all by yourself?” Y/N questioned, her words slightly slurred.

Eddie looked up from his drink at the sound of Y/N’s voice, “Just resting?”

“Resting for what?” Y/N asked, sitting down next to him, “I haven’t seen you all night, I know you have nothing to rest your feet for.”

Y/N brought the bottle up to her lips for another sip but as he did so, nothing came out of the bottle. It was empty. Sighing, Y/N placed the bottle down next to her.

“Come on,” Y/N says, standing to her feet, “Come and dance with me.”

“No,” Eddie says, “I’m fine here Y/N.”

“Fine moping around on your own?” Y/N says grabbing his hand, “Come and have some fun, Roundtree.”

Having no choice in the matter, Eddie let himself be dragged by Y/N, knowing that there was no point in arguing with her. As the two reached the dance floor, there were many people there and Eddie stayed static, not even tapping his foot to the music.

“Come on Eddie,” Y/N says, dancing, “Move that body of yours.”

Y/N took the bottle out of Eddie’s hands and placed it to the side, “See now there’s no excuse, come on.”

Y/N took Eddie’s hands in hers and began to dance with him, he was as stiff as a board.

“Wow,” Y/N says, “Your future wife is going to be very unlucky if you can’t even move your body. Are you this rigid with every girl you spend the night with?”

“I just don’t want to dance, Y/N.” Eddie says.

“Why not? It’s a wedding, weddings are fun. Give me a good reason for not having a good time.”

Eddie didn’t speak, not wanting to answer Y/N’s question. However his eyes seemed to betray him as they instantly landed on Camila. Y/N followed his eyeline, and she finally understood why he wasn’t having a good time.

Reaching up, Y/N cupped his cheeks, moving his head to look at her, “Hey, don’t focus on that right now, just let loose and have a little fun. And tomorrow, by all means go back to thinking of that, but right now, let it out of your mind and have a good time because you’ll probably look back and regret not dancing with the sexy woman standing right in front of you.”

Eddie chuckled, flashing Y/N a smile, “I don’t think I’m looking at the right person.”

Y/N glared at him, “Very funny, Roundtree. But there’s that smile I know and love.”

Eventually Y/N got Eddie to dance with her to nearly every song that was played, from fast and fun ones to slow and intimate ones. For the rest of the night, Eddie didn’t think about Camila at all, he was only focussed on Y/N.

_______________

#eddie roundtree #eddie roundtree x reader #eddie loving #eddie loving x reader #daisy jones and the six #Daisy Jones and the six x reader #josh whitehouse

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imagines-ahs · 5 months ago

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Chapter Fifty: Amaranth.

Summary: Wilhemina Venable felt it was finally time to leave Kineros Robotics and get a job with people who weren’t such morons like Jeff and Mutt. What she didn’t expect, however, was for her new boss to be so damn insufferable. She didn’t expect to fall in love with her, either.

Tag List: @mayfair-fleur @mistysswampmud @paulsonsratched @msvenablx @notmeellaannyy @rwoolfe @golddustdykes @lovingsarah @slut-for-sarah @geinobinarie (message me to be added if interested!)

“I said no, of course.” Venable watched how Billie’s chest had begun to move a little faster. She’s nervous. Wilhemina could feel herself starting to grow overwhelmed, and Billie Dean’s fingers no longer felt right tangled in her own. As gentle as she could, Venable pulled her hand away. Billie blinked once, glancing down at their hands. The look that settled on Billie Dean’s face caused Wilhemina to feel even more disappointed in herself. I’m hurting her. But her whole body refused to allow itself to be touched, to be felt, to be noticed as something that existed in physical form. Billie only nodded, waiting for Venable to say something else, anything else. Wilhemina’s jaw was tense again. “B-Billie, what happened between you and Terry?”

For a second, everything Billie Dean could hear was a faint buzz. Slowly, her body recovered from the sudden rush of adrenaline that had just washed down. She licked her dry lips, blinking once or twice. “What did she tell you?” I should have talked to her about it. I should have done it before she had the chance. Venable didn’t answer, she only looked away. Billie frowned a little more, holding her emotions back the best she could. “Wilhie, what did she tell you?”

Wilhie. Venable stared down at the floor, body refusing to allow her voice to come out. She pushed it through. “She just… she told me y-you did the same to her— to Terry… d-date her, I m-mean. And then you—you got tired and just… discarded her.”

“I never dated her,” Billie quickly said. “We went out a few times, but we—we never dated.” Her heart had accelerated its pace, for Billie Dean knew where this was going. “There w-were no feelings, and she was not fired b-because of that. It had nothing to do with o-our so called relationship.” She saw right there in Venable’s eyes how she didn’t seem to believe her. Fuck! Honey eyes filled up with tears. “Wilhemina, I d-don’t know what she told you, b-but it was nothing l-like us. Nothing. It was never serious. We only—we hooked up a few times, but we never even went out on a proper date.”

“Will you get tired of me, too?” It was barely a whisper, but one that came in a strong tone and as cold as ice. Venable hated herself for allowing it to come out like that, for allowing her walls to control her like that. Her posture was rigid again, both hands on the cane and head up high. Defensive. Scared.

“I will not.” There was no doubt in that. Billie gulped the lump in her throat. “I d-didn’t get tired of h-her. No one k-knows what happened.” A tear slid down. Billie Dean paid no attention to it. Her hands ached to just hold the woman in front of her. “W-Wilhie… Wilhie, please… I—I don’t k-know what else to tell y-you.” Another tear slipped down, followed by another, and another. She sniffled, never once looking away from Venable. Stop crying, for fuck’s sake!

“Tell me w-what happened.” Wilhemina’s voice trembled, betraying the coldness of her posture. Too many things went through her mind, each one of them taking her to a worst place.

With her eyebrows drawing close together, Billie Dean sniffled. She nodded as she took a deep breath. “Not here.” Venable frowned. “Meet me in the garage in five minutes.”

“Why?”

“T-trust me?”

Wilhemina bit her inner cheek. Staring at those honey oceans that always carried so much kindness, she wondered how could she ever say no to Billie Dean. How could she ever deny her anything when she stared at her with eyes so full of tears and so full of fear. She nodded, and in a gush of even more trust, reached to squeeze one of Billie’s hands. I never meant to hurt her. “I do.”

Taking another deep breath, Billie squeezed Venable’s hand back. “I p-promise I’ll give you a-all the answers.”

Wilhemina nodded. The sight was breaking her heart. Hesitantly, she let Billie Dean’s hand go and followed back to her table, heart beating fast.

Alone in her office, Billie Dean sat back down on her chair. She tried taking a deep breath, but a sob cut through. She felt ashamed. She felt judged by something Venable hadn’t even seen yet. Covering her eyes with her palms, Billie forced her body to calm down; this time, air filled her lungs slowly, completely. Her body craved for nicotine yet again, and she didn’t have another choice but to give in. Reaching for her purse, Billie Dean grabbed a cigarette from the pack she had there along with a lighter and walked to the huge window of her office, opening it carefully. She took drag after drag with eyes staring at nothing at all, focused on blurring colors as she kept herself trapped in all the thoughts that ran through her mind. What if she decides I’m too much for her? Finding someone like Venable had been so hard… it wouldn’t have been anyone but Wilhemina.

It didn’t take long for Venable to get up and walk to the elevator, nail picking on the skin of her thumb— an unconscious, nervous habit. She did notice how Emma stared at her, clearly curious, clearly angry, clearly wanting to get up and follow her to know what was happening. She wouldn’t have the nerve. As Wilhemina stepped into the elevator and the doors closed, she sighed in relief for being the only one there. Her stomach turned as the floors started to go down, mind on Billie, focus on Billie, heart on Billie. What could be so bad? What even could have happened that could be so bad? Why am I so scared? Venable knew why… what if she were being used? What if the Billie Dean she knew was a lie carefully constructed to play some sort of trick on her? I knew it was too good to be true. Billie gave her no reason to think that way, but the part of Wilhemina that refused to see any good on herself screamed louder. As the elevator stopped and the doors opened again, Venable hesitantly followed into a more secluded area of the garage. She hadn’t seen Billie Dean pass through the main office, which meant she wasn’t there yet. She stood there waiting, nibbling on her inner cheek at the same pace her nail dug on her skin. Not even five minutes later, the doors to the elevator opened to reveal Billie, with her sunglasses on and purse in hand. Venable watched her from the corner of her eye, hand squeezing the cane harshly.

As Billie Dean looked around in search of Wilhemina, she caught herself still sniffling the remaining of her tears. Her eyes had grown red and swollen, and her mascara had been all smudged—she tried wiping it off, and at least it got somewhat presentable. Sunglasses were always a lifesaver, though. Her head picked up as she saw a hint of purple, and she watched as Venable stood there so nervous she couldn’t hide it this time. Billie sighed. Please, don’t change your mind. “Hi,” she said softly as she approached Wilhemina.

Turning around, Venable smiled a little. “Hi. She’s wearing glasses. Wilhemina wanted to lean closer and kiss her lips; wanted to hold her hand, comfort her and caress her fingers. But her body refused to allow it, standing on the ground with feet glued on it and refusing to draw closer.

Billie gulped again, eyes falling down. “My car is—is to the left.”

“Your car?” Venable frowned.

Billie Dean nodded. “I need—I want to show you the whole thing.” Her eyes hesitantly moved back to brown ones. Wilhemina looked even more confused. I won’t be able to wait until we get there. Every second that Venable stared at her like that broke her heart a tiny bit more. But also, what was the best to do? Wilhemina was a very logical person, and so perhaps the best was, indeed, to wait.

Venable’s first reaction was to deny getting away from the workplace while she was, technically, working. But Billie Dean was the boss, and even if she weren’t, Billie Dean was her priority right now. So she nodded and followed Billie along until they got to her car. “Thank you,” she nearly whispered as she got in, holding her cane on her lap as Billie Dean closed the door.

“Of course.” Billie walked to the driver’s side and got in as well. She took a deep breath as she buckled up, and then she took her glasses off and turned on the car. Wilhemina watched her closely, eyes tracing each and every line of her. I’m so embarrassed.

Her eyes are blotchy. Venable’s thumb was back at picking on her skin. “Where are we going?” She asked after a second. The car was already moving, and as Wilhemina took a deep breath she realized just how much it smelled like Billie Dean. I want to hold her.

“My house.” Billie licked her lips as she looked over to the sides before moving forward.

“Your house?” What could they possibly do at Billie Dean’s house? Venable was lost; completely lost. She watched as Billie nodded. “Why?”

Billie bit her inner cheek, fingers silently drumming on the wheel. Her stomach kept on twirling. “The… the documents are a-all there.” Her eyes started to grow teary again. She sniffled.

Documents? Wilhemina was starting to grow worried—not for her feelings, not for her trauma, but for Billie Dean. She had seen Billie worried and nervous like that before, and it was never something good. Reach for her hand. Venable eyed them on the wheel. “Billie, you’re worrying me.”

Wiping a tear away, Billie Dean sighed. After a minute or two, she finally gathered the courage to speak again. “I’m scared,” she breathed out. They stopped at a red light, so she was able to look at Venable.

Oh no. Wilhemina didn’t know what to do, how to react, how to comfort Billie when she herself needed comfort. “W-why?” Her voice trembled. Her nerves started to grow agitated. Hiding her feelings had become hard all of a sudden.

“B-because.” Billie Dean sniffled again. Her eyes refused to stay dry. “Terry, she… no one k-knows about i-it. I’ve been d-dealing with that alone, n-no one knows. And I’m scared y-you’ll look at me differently when you f-find out.”Gulping yet again, Venable shook her head. The light turned green, they moved forward. Billie kept on sniffling as she drove, wiping the running tears away the best she could.

Wilhemina had grown quiet again. Would anything be able to make me look at her differently? It wasn’t fair to think something could; not with how Billie Dean had treated her so far, not with the amount of comfort that woman brought to her. She wouldn’t do something that could cause me to look at her differently. Struggling to pass through the walls, Venable began to dig a hole. She bit her lower lip and closed her eyes, thumb now bleeding. I don’t want to lose her. Haven’t my ways taken too much from me already? Every single time Wilhemina happened to be struggling around Billie, she had been anything but kind, loving, sweet. It’s not fair I don’t do the same. Venable wanted to do the same. She dug and dug and dug until she could see a small amount of the outside, and then she opened her eyes again. Billie Dean kept her waterfall eyes on the road. “B-Billie,” she barely managed to whisper. They stopped at a red light again. Their eyes met. She’s terrified. “I… I l-like you for who you a-are. That’s n-not changing.” Taking all the strength she could, Wilhemina reached for Billie Dean’s free hand. She tangled their fingers and caressed it, feeling the soft skin against her own.

With her face scrunching up with tears, Billie shook her head. Her eyes fell down to their hands, and she squeezed Venable’s back as if it were the last time she would be able to do so. “I-I’m ashamed of what happened,” that was all she managed to whisper.

Wilhemina’s frown grew. She knew that feeling well… almost too well. She kept on caressing the fingers tangled in hers, watching as Billie Dean cried more and more. I should stop talking. She’s driving. Billie had to calm down. “Just… just know I’m here with y-you.”

With another nod, Billie Dean got back to driving. She sniffled nonstop, trying to bring her nerves down. With her hand tangled in Venable’s, her chest filled with air a tiny bit easier.

The rest of the ride was quiet. Billie used the time to calm herself down as best as she could, and Wilhemina never once let her hand go; it was the best she could do right now. When they got to Billie Dean’s house, her eyes were dry and only slightly red. She reached for her purse and opened the garage, gently letting go of Venable’s hand as she parked the car. When the engine stopped, Billie took a deep breath. So did Wilhemina.

“Eleanor must be here,” Billie Dean broke the silence. It took a minute for Venable to remember whom Eleanor was, but she nodded anyways. Billie got out of the car and walked to the other side, ready to open the door for Wilhemina; she was already getting out. I need another cigarette. As they followed inside, Venable caught herself regretting not bringing her purse along. She had her bottle of Valium there, and even though she had already taken one today, the fear of a panic attack raising was very much present right now. Billie Dean didn’t dare offering a hand to Wilhemina. Right now, she honestly didn’t feel like she deserved to be held by anyone. The living room was substantially tidier this time Venable noticed, and the whole house smelled like a flower she couldn’t quite point to. “Eleanor?” Billie called. In no more than five minutes, a blonde, pale woman walked into the living room holding a cloth.

“Hello, Ms. Howard. I didn’t expect you here so early.”

Ms. Howard. Billie Dean had already asked Eleanor not to call her like that, but she didn’t have the energy to bring that up right now. “It’s alright. Is everything okay? Could you get settled well?”

“Yes. Thank you, Ms. Howard.” The woman smiled. Wilhemina watched how she eyed her once, smile never leaving her lips. She also took notice of how, even though very much distressed, Billie Dean was still as nice as always. How can I ever see her differently? “I’m cleaning the downstairs bathroom and the pool area right now. Should I clean something else first? Would you like me to prepare you lunch?”

Billie shook her head. “It’s perfect as it is, Eleanor. Thank you so much. There’s no need to prepare us lunch, and when you feel like eating, use the house phone and order whatever you’d like, as always.”

“Right.” Eleanor nodded. “Thank you, Ms. Howard. I’ll go back to doing my job, if you need anything just call me.”

“Alright.” Billie Dean offered her the best smile she could. Excusing herself, Eleanor disappeared on the back door. Taking another deep breath, Billie turned to Venable. Going upstairs is hard for her. “I’ll go grab the documents.”

Wilhemina nodded; her chest clenched from how defeated Billie Dean looked. As Billie disappeared upstairs, Venable caught herself sighing. She walked to the couch and took a seat, hands nervously squeezing the cane. Her eyes scanned the room she had seen only once before, trying to distract herself with the details she could capture: the awards on the shelf, the TV that could almost be mistaken by a painting of birds, the beautiful chandelier. It’s all Billie Dean. Venable adored everything. She looked down at her hands and noticed dry blood on the thumb she had been picking on. She bit her lower lip. I should wash it. But Eleanor had said she was cleaning the bathroom, and she didn’t even know where it was. Plus, she didn’t feel comfortable just walking around Billie Dean’s house. I wouldn’t mind if she did so in mine. Somehow it felt different. Footsteps took her away from her thoughts, and so Wilhemina looked up from her hands to watch as Billie approached her with a folder in hand, head down. She gulped.

Here we go. Billie took a deep breath as she sat down next to Venable. Without saying anything, she just handed her the folder. Wilhemina stared at her in confusion. Billie Dean licked her dry lips. “It’s all there,” she said quietly.

It was hesitant, but Venable slowly began to read the papers. Honey eyes watched her closely, already wanting to grow teary again. Fiery eyebrows kept on drawing closer together. I should have brought my glasses. Taking a deep breath as she read the first document, her eyes grew in size as she realized what she was reading. “She’s blackmailing you?!” Wilhemina turned to look at Billie Dean, whom only nodded with her head down. Venable’s frown grew. “Why are you ashamed of it? She’s the one who should be ashamed.”

“Keep—keep on going…”

Instantly, Wilhemina did so. As she turned to the next page, a few screenshots were printed there, along with chunks of texts explaining the context of them. Venable kept on reading further, and suddenly, when she moved to another page, explicit pictures of Billie—clearly taken without her consent—were printed right there, in color and all. Wilhemina’s eyes grew even more and she quickly closed the file. As she moved to look at Billie Dean, she found her still looking down at the floor, lip trembling as she held back the tears. Venable shook her head. “Billie… Billie, look at me.” She saw the way Billie Dean squeezed her eyes shut, tears cascading down. Venable bit her lip harshly. Just grab her hand already. Hesitantly and ignoring the voices in her head that screamed Billie would get mad at her somehow, Venable reached for one of her hands. Billie Dean opened her eyes and slowly looked at Wilhemina. She offered her a sad smile. “Angel… this is not y-your fault.” Too many things spiraled through her mind, but Wilhemina was determined to keep her focus on Billie. What if she’s lying? There was no way Billie Dean would lie about that, with proof and everything. And Venable knew it. Still, her mind tried taking what was good from her, as it always did. Not this time. Not Billie Dean. Trusting was so fucking hard… but Billie deserved it. She had deserved every single leap of faith she had taken for her.

Seeing Wilhemina through the tears was hard, and so Billie Dean clenched her hand for dear life. Her ears buzzed with adrenaline and shame, body shaking slightly. “Those p-pictures… I’ve… she is threatening t-to sell t-them—“ a sob cut through. Billie shook her head and covered her eyes with her palm, sniffling deeply.

Venable shook her head as her blood started to boil. Who the fuck does she think she is? She clenched her jaw harshly. Wilhemina saw red. She wanted to let Billie Dean know just what she thought about that woman, and she almost started to speak before she forced herself to stop: Saturday morning slipped in her mind, how she had exploded when she heard about the threats from Emma, and how that had made Billie uncomfortable, scared. And that was the last thing she wanted right now. So Venable took a deep breath and found a way to shove her rage aside somewhere—anywhere. And then her mind got quiet. And her body stopped trembling. And she found herself… sad. Sad for seeing what the world did to Billie Dean despite it being cruel to herself, too. And her eyes grew misty, so misty they slowly overflowed. But she didn’t care; not now, not with a person she cared so much. What were emotions if not rage? For the first time in a long time, Wilhemina simply felt. “Billie…” She moved closer, because she trusted Billie Dean would never scream at her for showing affection. “Billie Dean… come h-here.” She let her hand go to wrap an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer until Billie laid her head on her chest. And then she cradled her tightly, lovingly, fingers tangling in blonde hair and caressing it. Billie Dean kept on sobbing loudly while she clenched everything Wilhemina she could reach. Venable felt her cheeks getting wetter and wetter, but she simply let it be. Her nose buried into Billie’s hair, taking a deep breath. “It’s okay,” she whispered. The sound of Billie Dean’s sobs was one she didn’t think she had ever heard before, and it caused Venable to wonder just how long had she been holding them back, how long had she been postponing all these emotions she was meant to let go so long ago. Billie had always told Wilhemina she needed a break, and perhaps the break was not only physical. The urge to protect something wasn’t usual for Venable—it had happened only twice her whole life, first with Olivia, and then with Purpura—but it was undeniable how it had been growing with Billie Dean; perhaps now it had reached its peak.

As much as Billie tried, she just couldn’t take a proper breath, she just couldn’t stop the sobs from cutting through—so she accepted it. She accepted the fear, the shame, the anger at herself and whatever else and simply cried. She cried and cried as she held onto Wilhemina, trying to trade all her pain for lavender so only the purple crowded her senses and emotions. Her eyes hurt, her nose had grown red, and her body had finally stopped shaking after what seemed to be hours. When she finally gathered enough strength to look up at Venable again, she found her cheeks wet as well, eyes caring concern, comfort, worry and care. She sniffled the best she could and pulled away to properly look at her. “I f-feel like a whore,” she murmured lowly. Wilhemina blinked twice, clearly surprised by the words. “I feel s-so stupid with t-these pictures… how could I not see w-what she was doing?” Hadn’t she cried all she had inside, more tears would for sure come one more time. Billie Dean took a deep, shaky breath. She reached for one of Venable’s hands again, caressing it between her own. “I-I’m so ashamed of it all… I’m so scared y-you’ll think I-I do that with everyone.”

Instantly, Wilhemina shook her head. “Don’t say that, Billie…” Only now she reached to wipe her cheeks clean. “She took advantage of you, none of that is your fault.”

“B-but I did sleep with her because I wanted to.”

Ouch. The thought bothered Venable. She focused on logic. “And there’s nothing wrong with that. But she chose to take advantage, she chose to take those pictures without your consent, and that was entirely on her.” Wilhemina did her best to keep her voice caring, soft.

Billie Dean sighed. “We never e-even went out on a date… it was p-purely sex… meaningless… stupid.” She shook her head and looked away, back at the floor. Venable gulped uncomfortably; it was definitely not pleasant to think about Billie kissing someone else, let alone having sex with them. It was a tough realization for Wilhemina, to understand that she was, in fact, jealous. Not that it mattered right now, not that it mattered at all. So many forgotten emotions rolled through her body, making it hard to think clearly. “I think w-we saw each other maybe f-four or five times… in s-six months. I d-didn’t feel good about it anymore… about feeling u-used the next day, every t-time.” Slowly, honey eyes moved back to brown ones. Venable squeezed her hand gently, encouraging her to keep going. “I t-told her I’d love t-to remain friends, b-but I didn’t want the sex anymore. She g-got really mad at me, told me I had been leaning her on, that I s-should have been honest from day one. I w-was… I t-told her after it h-happened the first time, after a p-party for wrapping up the last season of the show, we w-were both drunk… I barely remember it.” Billie shook her head. “I t-told her it h-had been a mistake, she offered for u-us to be casual… I figured i-it wouldn’t be a problem, s-she saw other people, she seemed nice e-enough even though I k-knew there was nothing romantic there for m-me…” A low, bitter chuckle left Billie Dean’s lips. She sighed. “Her w-work had never been the b-best, but she d-did the job and that w-was sufficient… or so I thought. I e-ended up finding numerous mistakes some time later, two o-or three months after w-we stopped seeing each other. I tried t-talking to her, a-asked her to be more careful… she i-insisted I was punishing her for s-some reason… so I h-had to fire her. She told everyone i-it had to do with our relationship—we d-didn’t even have a relationship, n-not in the way she implied, and she was aware of that. Gosh, she tried sleeping w-with Jenny for fuck’s sake!” Wilhemina watched Billie quietly, giving her the time she needed to let it all out. “A day a-after many accusatory t-texts, she sent me t-the first picture. A week later, I h-had all of them along w-with threats of selling them t-to the media if I d-didn’t agree t-to pay her a fee for f-firing her—which had already b-been paid, but she demanded for more. I g-gave in at first… she kept on asking for more… finally, I c-contacted my lawyer. We are… we’re building a c-case…” Billie Dean looked down again. It was all laid out now, clear as day for Venable to see and understand and judge as she pleased. Billie had nothing else to lose. I should have never slept with her, Billie’s mind shouted, I should have contacted my lawyer before, I should have stopped after the first time, I should have, I should have, I should have, I should have…

Digesting everything would take some time, but Wilhemina certainly would. She kept on caressing Billie Dean’s hand, heart beating fast, eyes glossy. What could she even say to that? Billie stared at her as if she were waiting for Venable to decide her faith on death penalty or not, eyes big, lip trapped between her teeth. Wilhemina blinked once, causing matching tears to slip down. Billie frowned in fear. “I d-don’t know what t-to tell you,” she began, slow and gentle and caring and just so unsure of how to word all these foreign emotions. “But I’m here for you. I’m h-here with you. This is not your fault, Billie Dean… none of it is your fault. You did nothing w-wrong, and it breaks m-my heart to see how much that woman i-is causing you to suffer.” Another tear slipped down. “You don’t deserve it,” she nearly breathed out, cheeks getting drenched again. She fought not to allow her eyes to overflow too much, but it was useless.

I’ve never seen her cry before. It shouldn’t, but it caused Billie to worry even more. In her nervous state, comprehending the size of the intimacy she had just reached was nearly impossible. “Don’t c-cry…” With her free hand, Billie Dean carefully wiped a tear away from Venable’s cheeks.

“Why were you so a-shamed of telling me that?” Wilhemina leaned her cheek on Billie’s palm, eyes and hand never leaving hers.

Billie Dean gulped. Her thumb caressed Venable’s cheekbone, stomach twisting and turning in nervous patterns still. “Because I j-judge myself… so I was s-scared you’d judge me, too… and I would l-lose you…”

“I would never judge y-you for that, angel…” The worry dimple was back between Wilhemina’s eyebrows. She turned her head to place a kiss on Billie Dean’s hand.

“I-it’s not just that… I just… you are so—so classy and so intelligent and absolutely captivating and I…” Billie sighed. “I’ve slept w-with women I barely k-knew because I decided a relationship was n-not for me. I went to bars, I had o-one-night stands, I had given up on love because h-how could anyone decide my ways were worth it? And n-now that you’re here I just… I feel so ashamed.”

Oh. The voices inside Venable’s head wanted to start talking again, whispering all kinds of degrading things towards herself. Wilhemina fought hard, refusing to allow them to win; they wouldn’t this time, for now she was not alone anymore, for now she had Billie Dean. She’ll stop liking you as soon as she realizes you have no experience in anything. She probably saw hundreds of bodies that are better than yours. Did Billie even do something worth the crucifying her mind always did? Wasn’t she a single, grown woman who felt comfortable enough to explore a thing society deemed as so absolutely wrong? And for what reason? Why was it wrong? It was definitely not Billie’s fault that she didn’t have experiences as such, that she felt so uncomfortable in her own skin. “You don’t have to be ashamed for h-having a life, Billie.” She sat up straight. Honey eyes looked away as Billie Dean brought her hand back towards herself, nervously playing with her fingers that previously caressed Wilhemina’s cheek. “So what you had one-night stands? So what y-you’ve slept with women you met at bars? That doesn’t make you less of a person, Billie. It doesn’t make you unworthy of love. You could have slept with a different woman a day for all I care, and that wouldn’t make a difference to how I feel towards you.” She hadn’t slept with anyone in years, and she still felt unworthy of love, too… why did it even matter, after all?

“It was—it wasn’t even one per week, probably one-night stand a month,” Billie Dean murmured.

“It’s just an example,” Venable said softly. Billie nodded. Wilhemina smiled sadly. I love her. She nibbled on her lip as she thought, pondering her words. “O-of course I don’t enjoy thinking a-about you sleeping with other people… but it’s because—it’s because I…” I want you to myself. I want to be good enough for you. “I imagine you don’t enjoy thinking about me and Emma, either.” Logic. Logic was good.

Billie Dean instantly shook her head as she grimaced slightly. The corners of Wilhemina’s lips turned up, and for a second all the weight on Billie’s shoulders disappeared. The world could end and she would not give a damn as long as she had that woman with her. Leaning closer, Billie Dean kissed Venable right on the lips, lingering there as she felt a hand caressing her cheek. “I don’t ever want to kiss anyone else,” she whispered.

“Me either.” Wilhemina kissed her again, smiling to herself as she held Billie as close as she could, as tight as she could manage.

Breaking the kiss after a moment, Billie Dean stared at brown eyes. Her heart was still beating fast, and her eyes still threatened to grow teary. After a second, she spoke again. “So… do you still wanna be with me?” She murmured.

“What have I just said, silly?”

Billie Dean’s cheeks tinted pink. “I’m just making sure…”

“You’re cute.” Venable leaned to kiss her on the nose, just like Billie did to her. “Yes, I do.” Will she when she sees just how fucked up I am when it comes to intimacy?

#rabexxpaulson #would you swallow all your pride?#ahs #american horror story #lesbian #billie dean howard #lesbian fanfic #lesbian story #lesbian fanfiction #willhemina venable #wilhemina venable x billie dean #billie dean x wilhemina venable

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rzyraffek · 2 years ago

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Multifandom characters with clingy s/o

Micheal Myers from Halloween

Men will litteraly stab you 29 times please do not touch him! He has to be the one who starts any phisical activities cuz he will get stressed otherwise

Be patient! He never really was in relationship He doesnt know how to feel and how to react

To be fair only physical contact He had wasn't probably nice and kind so it will take long time for him to warm up

Illidan Stormrage from WarCraft3

PLEase do! It full fills him with happiness!This guy just wants somone positive attention and pure love

He needs this comfort he is even more touch starved than I am! He just wants love really

Yeah he is a criminal, so what? He wants cuddles too! And please hold his hand hes so happy:D

Also after his whole demon emo phase please complement his new look cuz he might be a bit insecure

Brahms Heelshire from The Boy 2016

😳

He is the most clingy boy you gonna ever meet

Please do

When he finds out that s/n like hugs as much as he does, s/n is never going to get rid of him. He always puts his hand in hers(or his idc) hands or hugs from behind when s/o does chores

Yes he is horny 24/7 BUT he treats this hugs a bit difrent than just 'invitation' for some activities but as actual way to show that he cares and loves her without all sexy stuff. Slow weekends with lazy breakfast in bed and cuddling till 1pm is his perfect day

Arthas from WarCraft3

His first instinct is 'wha- did something happen? Let me protect' but then he remembers hes edgy and epic and he cant show emotions cuz hes so so spooky.

Yes yes s/o you will get your hugs but privite chambers okay? He has demons to kill he cant afford risking your life because you wanted to cuddle

But please don't let this act fool you, he really does care, in his own Arthas way... even if it seems cold he kinda lost his soul and emotions few years ago so yeah have fun dealing with that

Eddie Glueskin from Outlast

Ayoo??😳

Consensual touch??? 🤨 is that a trap?? He never, idk he never felt this type of positive touch

Oh please teach him your ways, how are you so comforting, so kind, so warm so so you!

He already plans wedding and everything! Oh you are just too perfect!

Billy Lenz from og Black Chrismas

He will bark at anyone in 10meter radius from you! Once you give him any hugs he will get addicted!

He will just walk behind you like stray puppy :( please dont ignore him he wants affection

Then he finds out about hand holding! Now he can fallow you like stray puppy while holding your hand and fidget with it! He might bite tho

#slasher x reader #slasher headcanons #illidan stormrage #warcraft #warcraft 3 #billy lenz x you #billy lenz #billy lenz x reader #brahms heelsire #brahms x reader #micheal myers #micheal myers x reader #eddie gluskin #eddie gluskin x reader #arthas menethil #arthas x reader

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meet-me-backstage · 1 year ago

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⎈

𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐨 𝐄𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 🦇 Eddie Munson x Fem!reader

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 🦇 You get dragged into the unfathomable events at Starcourt Mall by your hopeless crush on Billy Hargrove and new-found middle-schooler friends. You struggle to cope with the trauma, which gradually costs you your popular cheerleader reputation when you return to high school for senior year. Though this loss first appears to be the end of the world, you learn that there's worse things than levelling down in popularity.

Though even in darkness, there is always a light - for you this is Eddie Munson, who you gain an unlikely friendship in and fall for him in the process.

𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒂 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍 𝒔𝒍𝒐𝒘 𝒃𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒍𝒐𝒕𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒖𝒑𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒏𝒔, 𝒔𝒎𝒖𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒚 𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈!

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 🦇 smoking, mention of and consumption of drugs, horror themes, violence (in the upside down and probs Steve losing another fight (•̀ᴗ•́)و jk jk he's king), nightmares, mention of and consumption of alcohol, mention of and a near death experience, death, bad language, blood, bullying, mention of vomit and vomiting, some domestic (mainly verbal and emotional) abuse(‼️), mention of suicidal thoughts, mention of suicide, mention of self-harm, allusion to eating disorder and smUUT so you have to be 18+ to read this series❗️

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 🦇 5K words

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 🦇 mention of drugs, bad language and a little bit of bullying / teasing.

𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 - 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠!

𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲, 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐨 𝐄𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝! <𝟑

⇜ 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

🦇 𝐒𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟐 🦇

"Over here, little miss!" Rebecca, your older sister called out from the middle table of the cafeteria, her voice standing out amongst the mumbles of the large room. Her confidence shone in her voice, not caring about her surroundings.

It was your first day at high school, September 8th, 1981. To jumping swiftly out of your sister's silver Ford Sierra and roaming the corridors, to finding your way to your first class, you immediately noticed the difference between middle and high school - everyone was taller, older students were walking around like they owned the place... it was also a maze.

You took a quick look around the cafeteria, everyone was split based on their interests, reputation - one group were wearing matching t-shirts with 'Hellfire Club' written on them. You were most curious about that table, the 'Hellfire' table, noticing a boy with short-ish dark curly hair, he seemed familiar.

"Are you coming or what?" Rebecca called again, playfully shaking her head.

The loud sound of Rebecca's voice distracting you from your thoughts as you watched the boy at the 'Hellfire' table - you shook your head and realised that you hadn't been the only one who'd been alerted by the sound of Rebecca's voice, the boy had been too... but he wasn't looking at Rebecca, he was looking at you, probably because he'd seen you staring and figured he was to blame for stopping you in your tracks - he looked... petrified, his eyes were wide... he was questioning you looking at him, also thinking 'don't look at me, don't bring unwanted attention to me'.

"Yeah, I'm coming," you became flustered, shaking your head half-heartedly before joining your sister at the table of cheerleaders and jocks.

Rebecca was sat next to her boyfriend, Alex, who she'd been friends with from the beginning of middle school - they started dating in their freshman year of high school and had been together since, now they were both starting junior year together, happy as ever - they were the perfect couple and most of the female students swooned over their relationship or were jealous of it - it led to a perfect reputation for them in high school and in middle school.

You sat beside Rebecca after she'd patted a spare seat. A majority of the table was taken by the cheerleaders and basketball team for Hawkins High because Rebecca was the head cheerleader, Alex was the captain of the basketball team - perfection.

You smiled sheepishly at the stereotypically athletic-looking girls and boys, you’d be lying if you weren’t a little intimidated... you recognised Heather Holloway, your neighbour, and received a small fake smile from her, which made you nervously look down.

"Hey, you okay?" Rebecca turns to you after speaking to Alex about their date plans after school, they still held hands with intertwined fingers.

Your hands clung onto each other on your lap, "Yeah, wicked," you flashed your sister a solemn smile, and received a dumbfounded look from Rebecca.

All you could think about was Mason, your big brother - who'd left Hawkins during summer break... he'd skipped senior year and your mom and dad were furious to say the least, but you were just... sad, he would have been here for you today - you knew he would've ruffled your hair and said something funny like 'high school is like moving from a potty to a toilet - don't take it too seriously, superstar.'

He'd been your biggest unconditional supporter, fan, friend and influence ever since you could remember - your sister a close second, minus the 'unconditional' part.

"Is that all? Wicked?" Rebecca giggles, "How are you finding it? The school I mean, isn't it great?" Rebecca truly loved being at Hawkins High... everyone loved her, her relationship, her good grades and behaviour - those who didn't she'd say were 'jealous'. When she saw that you were giving her a dead behind the eyes look, Rebecca rolled her eyes, "Picture it like - a," she thinks, biting her lip, "Like a clean slate - or like the leftover pancake you didn't have this morning that you scraped off and into the bin - leaving you a-," her voice rises, encouraging you to finish her sentence.

Your eyebrows raise and you smile cheekily, "Whole lot of washing up to do after school?"

Rebecca let out a strained laugh and politely covered her mouth, "An empty plate," she states seriously, leaning slightly closer, grinning.

She's being weird, way too nice to me... you thought before realising why. To stop me from causing her any embarrassment. "So in other words - join the cheerleader - pack and eventually become the head once you leave, gush over the boys in the basketball team and maybe date one - have everyone want to be friends with me... pass with flying colors?" You speak playfully, full of sarcasm.

"Don't put it like that, little miss," Rebecca tuts. You cringe at the nickname, "I just want you to start on the right foot because high school can be intense if you don't. You might wind up with the - wrong people," her eyes avert to a table, you were curious to look, "Subtle," she whispers... it was the 'Hellfire' table.

"They look harmless to me, Becky," you shrug.

"That's the problem - they look harmless," Rebecca looks back at you.

Your brows furrow, you were impressionable and vulnerable in your new surroundings so you actively listened, "Okay then, give me the gory details and I'll decide whether they are dangerous freaks or just harmless nerds."

"Wellll - the leader of the 'cult' is Caleb 'the monster' Moore, a senior - the others are like his - worshippers or something, anyway, he's the master. Next to him is Eddie 'the freak' Munson and it's rumored that he'll take over this devil worship cult thing they've got going on - he's also just started a drug business so - just steer clear, okay?"

Though you were shocked at the 'cult' aspect of the explanation, the drug business was the most realistic part, so you picked on that, "Shouldn't someone report him - for starting a drug business? If he has?"

Rebecca gave you an 'are you serious?' look, "Have you got a death wish? You'd snitch on the deputy cult leader?" You continued to look at her with worry, "Trust me, most of us know about this but no one says anything for that exact reason - and also because some people like to buy drugs from him at parties," she shrugs.

"So - they're terrified that he's this devil worshipper, but they'll buy his drugs? And he's what - a junior?" You question, your eyebrows furrowed.

"Precisely."

"Makes sense," you nod, looking at the 'Hellfire' table, trying to be discreet about it because deep down you had been unsettled by Rebecca's words.

"Look, it's just a rumor - nothing's been proved about the devil worship thing, it's what my friends told me and now it's just a - thing... they're the freaks and what they do has got nothing to do with us," Rebecca's expression was serious and she gave you a warning stare, saying 'if you go anywhere near them it'll be me you should be afraid of'.

You look down, nervous, "M-mhm."

Rebecca continued to look at you, noticing your unkempt hair.

Rebecca reached forward to try and brush her fingers through your hair, only to receive a look that told her not to, but she did anyway, "You look pretty today, little miss - it's just - maybe, for the best you listen to mom... leave the whole - messy look in middle sch-."

"Becky!" A boy in the basketball team sat at the table interrupted, "You alive over there or have we lost you to a freshman?" He laughs and you look up at him, timid as ever - he looked like the average jock in every high school.

Rebecca rolls her eyes and playfully leans forward towards her friends, her dark brown hair swaying elegantly, "This isn't just any freshman, Sean - this is my er - sister, little miss," her voice lowers, looking down.

Sean looked at you, confused, "You didn't tell us you had a little sister," he starts to smile, holding in a laugh at the sight of you. You’d expected this treatment, it wasn't like you imagined being welcomed with open arms into the popular crowd because your sister was one of them, "Hi, little miss."

You cringe again, "Nice to meet you, Sean-ie," he didn't seem to understand your sarcasm and he looked at his popular friends for reassurance, but they were glaring at you.

You felt unsettled under their gazes, Rebecca looked humiliated.

"Hey, she’s staying whether you guys like it or not," Alex interrupts, waving his hands in front of his friends faces after noticing Rebecca's face hidden in her hands. Alex was reasonable underneath the popular persona, you were thankful that out of all of the basketball team, Rebecca was dating the kindest - even though you had to third-wheel on rides home or at home watching a movie... you smiled at Alex, he looked at you, smiling reassuringly.

"Relax, Al - she is cool to stay here," another basketball team player speaks up - you could tell because of the green, white and yellow outfits they wore, it matched the cheerleader's outfits.

You smiled, feeling like you were getting on the right side of your sister's friends, "Thanks?" You say unsurely, the compliment gave you more confidence, as did Alex, knowing he had your back. "I really like your basketball jerseys, they're so wicked. I love the murky green with the yellow on the numbers - I'd love to wear - it myself," you start to ramble and trail off at the end because you can see that the team are now looking at you funny... for being yourself.

The boy that once agreed that you were 'cool', was now holding in a snigger, "Wear this?" He gestures to his jersey and shorts arrogantly, "You're gonna have to grow some balls to do that," he starts to laugh now, as does Sean, which provokes giggles from the cheerleaders, including Heather, "You got a spare kit for her, Al?"

Alex started to look unsettled himself and he avoided eye contact with his friends, his curly blonde hair falling over his face, "Will you just shut up, dude?" He tried not to sound too intimidating - he knew he had a sense of authority over them being the captain, but he didn't seem to know how to deal with this situation, so he gave Rebecca a look, squeezing her hand. You noticed this and looked at Rebecca innocently.

Rebecca looked down, not knowing what to say... frustrated because you very clearly are a copy and paste of Mason... he'd influenced your 'boyish' attitude ever since you were little. Rebecca had to think of another way that would get you to fit in before you wound up even more like him.

Suddenly, and you could see this, a lightbulb lit up, "I know that you miss Mason, okay? I know, so do I - but it doesn't mean you have to be exactly like him and hate high school - think about the people here for you right now - like - like Chrissy! Have you seen her today? She wanted to talk to me about joining the cheer team - maybe you could come too? And then you'd be able to wear something - similar to the basketball team."

Chrissy had been a friend of yours since the very first year at middle school, towards the end of 6th grade. You met at the middle school talent show, you’d originally gone with Heather to audition, who was slightly older than you and in the 7th grade at the time - she was doing cheerleading and your act was shooting as many basketballs into the hoop in one minute.

🦇𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐞, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟎🦇

Heather was nice to you outside of school just because she was a neighbour and was friends with Rebecca, but within school walls, Heather was not one for 'babysitting', she was quick to leave you on your own to go and hang out with the likes of Steve Harrington, Tommy Hagan, Carol Perkins, Tina Cline and Nicole Thomson, who were a mix of 7th or 8th grade - the popular crowd.

You were sat on the step-like seats alone in the sports hall to audition for the talent show. It had been decorated with sparkly banners and confetti - a table was set in the middle of the hall for the Principal, Mr Coleman, coach Kemp and the History teacher, Mrs Newton to judge each act.

The basketball Mason got you was hugged tightly between your arm and side until you started to get bored waiting for your name to be called, then the basketball was being bounced with your petite left hand - it was on a whim that you’d decided to have shooting hoops be your 'act', you knew that it wasn't 'girly', but it was something that you liked to do at home and your parents disapproved of it, well - your mom did, your dad was just protective... often he'd join you and Mason in the front yard to play basketball - sometimes getting odd looks from neighbours, including Heather.

The sound of the ball bouncing had caught other student's attention - you were usually extremely quiet, didn't have many friends and tried to cling onto Heather, which often didn't work. No one really knew you or tried to get to know you in your first year of middle school, so seeing you with a basketball was their first impression of you - you thought that it wouldn't be a massive deal and thought 'why would it be anyway?', students gave you odd looks - everyone but Chrissy Cunningham.

Chrissy had been alone too, stood in a yellow dress before deciding to approach you. She was in 6th grade too, a sweet and kind girl who had more friends than you did, and a good reputation - she reminded you of your older sister which scared you a little.

You noticed two feet in your eye-line and slowly look up, seeing Chrissy - you thought that Chrissy might've just approached to tell you to stop bouncing the ball, "Hi - er, it's okay I'll stop," you mumbled, placing the ball in your lap.

"Oh no, I just came here to say hi," Chrissy blushes and giggles softly, her whole demeanour very delicate, "Can I sit there?" She asks, pointing at the space next to you.

You were in disbelief, but figured that Chrissy was feeling pity towards you. You shrugged your shoulders, "Yeah, sure - 's not like anyone else would wanna sit here," you laugh half-heartedly.

"Well they definitely can't now because I'm here," Chrissy smiles sweetly, holding the edges of the step with both of her hands.

You chuckle and look down at the basketball in your lap, "Good one."

It falls silent between you and Chrissy taps her sneaker-clad feet on the floor, "So, I'm guessing basketball is your act?" She doesn't laugh, or give you a weird look, she just smiles.

You nod, briefly looking at Chrissy before looking back down, "Yeah, people think it's kinda weird, right?"

Chrissy purses her lips and shakes her head, "Not really, I like anything athletic - they've just got a weird attitude I guess," she shrugs and gestures towards some students, who'd only just stopped staring.

"I guess - I was just hoping that maybe by doing this talent show, the school would make a girls basketball team and it wouldn't be so - 'unusual'," you huff afterwards and stare blankly forward, "I'm probably hoping too hard."

Chrissy looks at you, admiring your optimism, "Well if it means anything, I think that it's good - what you're doing."

You make proper eye contact with Chrissy now, and you can’t help but smile, "Thank you."

It's silent again, the two of you smiling at each other, realising that you actually had a connection and regretting that you hadn't made an effort to speak before, a friendship could've sparked ages ago as you were in most classes together. You started to blush and scratch the back of your neck, "So you're - doing your cheerleading - thing?"

Chrissy giggles, it was contagious because you started to giggle quietly and swing your legs in sync with Chrissy's, "Yeah, although I've been - left out so I don't feel that ready."

Your brows furrow, "Left out?" It explained why she was stood alone in the first place, but you couldn't fathom why Chrissy Cunningham would be left out.

Chrissy looks down, "Yeah - I didn't think I would have any problems, but I'm the only one in our year auditioning for cheerleading in the talent show. Everyone else is older and - intimidating, they didn't think I was as capable to do the lifts so I'm the one being lifted," she breathlessly giggles and lets out a nervous puff of air through her mouth, "I've not done that before and I'm starting to think I shouldn't audition - they just think I'm too little," she speaks quickly as if she was releasing a weight off of her shoulders, "Am I rambling? I'm rambling - sorry."

"It's okay," you gaze at her, intrigued, "I think that you're really amazing - when I've seen you practicing, I mean - I think they are majorly underestimating you, you're going to be the cheerleading queen in a few years, I know it."

Chrissy grinned toothily in response, a smile from ear to ear, "You're too kind - oh, I'm Chrissy, by the way," she laughs.

"I know," you laugh.

"You know, you're exactly what I thought you'd be like," she smiles, visibly relaxing by hunching her back.

You tilt your head, "Really?"

Chrissy hums as she nods her head, "Whenever I saw you in class - or in the hallway you always reminded me of Tinker Bell - in the Peter Pan movie? Like a fairy because you're kind of cheeky, and pretty - but also a total sweetheart."

Your mouth breaks out into a wide grin. That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.

Coach Kemp casually walked into the area where the students were waiting to be auditioned and your heart starts to pound, distracting you from your conversation with Chrissy. He looked around before looking at the clipboard he was grasping onto. He calls your name in a questioning tone and looks up again.

A sharp shoot of nerves spread through your body, but Chrissy placed her hand on your shoulder and smiled, "Good luck!" She spoke enthusiastically, "I'll be right here waiting for you."

You smile and nod, temporarily cooling down before standing yourself up and raising your hand a little, "I'm here, coach!”

You walk towards the coach, the grip on your basketball so tight, probably squeezing the air out of it. You look around as you leave the 'backstage' area - your eyes locked with a boy's, his hair was buzzed and he was holding an electric guitar, his mouth slightly agape. You quickly broke the eye contact and looked down, following the coach.

'Lets get these ones over and done with first, shall we?' Was what you had overheard as you approached the principal and your history teacher, the coach jogged towards them. The principal cleared his throat when he'd spotted you.

"I'm going to-."

"Speak up - we're not going to bite," Mrs Newton leans forward, smiling.

You blush and clear your throat, "I'm going to shoot as many basketball hoops as I can in one minute."

Coach Kemp raises his brows at you, leaning forward before looking at the principal - he seemed interested, but you didn't know whether that was interest in potential failure or actually wanting you to do well. "Go ahead, Miss."

"Have you got a er - a timer?" You ask as you begin to jog down the steps of the stage and to a hoop in the sports hall.

"We're counting," the coach answers, nodding.

They didn't have much hope in you, judging by their words before, but you concentrated and got into position, you thought about Chrissy's kind and encouraging words.

The first throw of the basketball did not go through the hoop, but you quickly recovered. Instead of being at school, you pictured yourself in your front yard with Mason.

You shot eighteen successfully through the hoop with just the one basketball. The three members of staff's mouths were open and you hoped that they were thinking 'how is she that good?'

Sweat was running in beads from your forehead as you stood, holding the basketball tightly for some comfort, though the adrenaline was keeping you going. The judges still hadn't uttered a word, "I hope - you can spare some space for girls like me - in this talent show," you spoke between breaths and nodded before bowing your head, "Thank you."

The three were looking between each other before Mrs Newton nodded, "Thank you."

When your were ushered back to the area where all the students were waiting for the coach, you noticed that Chrissy wasn't alone. The boy with the electric guitar and buzzcut who you’d made eye contact with before the audition was next to Chrissy, they were talking, but Chrissy quickly spotted you, "Tink!"

At first you figured that Chrissy didn’t know your name, "Tink?" You tilt your head before coming to a halt in front of Chrissy and the boy.

"Yeah, like Tinker Belle? That’s her nickname, it could be yours too," a laugh leaves her lips and she blushes, "It sounded better in my head."

You can't help but smile, all nervousness gone again, "I like it - and it sure beats the one my sister calls me - little miss," you make a 'yuck' face, though you didn't think it was a terrible name, you felt it didn't suit you.

Chrissy brings her hands together and claps excitedly before her mouth forms into an 'o' shape, she looks at the boy who had been standing with them, "Oh - Tink," she wiggles her brows at the use of the new nickname, "This is Eddie, he's auditioning but the rest of his band are late so - he's with us for now. And Eddie, this is-," Chrissy gestures to you.

"Oh - Tink," you give the boy a shy smile. He looked to be slightly older, maybe 8th grade and he had really dark brown eyes under the lack of light behind the stage, he was smiling shyly too.

The shy smile turns slightly cheeky, "Hi Tink."

Your head tilted as you watched him, trying to stop a really big grin from taking over your features - you’d never seen him before around school.

You didn't realise that you were staring until Chrissy spoke up about being signalled by the coach, that the cheerleaders were up next - so the two of you were left alone, blushing, until Eddie gestured to the step-seats, waiting for you to sit down first.

You fiddled with your fingers, the ball in your lap again - you watched as he placed his red and black electric guitar upright next to him, "It's wicked - your guitar, I mean," you look down for a second.

Eddie grins, his face lighting up at the mention of his guitar, "Yeah, it was my mom's baby before - me," he giggles, but doesn't make eye contact to hide the hurt in his eyes, "Now it's my baby," he lights up again, but you could tell that there was more to it than that - you didn't question him and before your curiosity would get the best of you, he changed the subject, "I like your - balls," you make a funny face and scrunch it before laughing, making Eddie laugh with you, "I mean - it was pretty cool of you to show up and show off your balls in laundry basket skills," he gives you a cheeky smile - trying to hold in more high-pitched laughter, but failing.

Your mouth was agape at his comment, "Totally blew their minds with my balls in laundry basket skills," you whisper and snort a laugh, you leant closer to each other, immersed in the other's presence, it was as if you were sharing secrets - not noticing other students gawking at you both.

"You're good - more than good - from what I saw," Eddie became flustered, he clearly hadn't talked to many girls. He gestures towards the stage, where you could see that Chrissy was being lifted, nailing what she had been nervous about.

You couldn't contain your excitement, you clapped silently and shyness took over again as you remembered the boy sitting next to you, "I-I can't wait to hear you play, Eddie."

"Oh, yeah - Corroded Coffin, that's what we're called," His voice broke in the middle of the sentence and it made him blush, he cleared his throat and his nose twitched - which you found cute, "I like to think that we're very metal."

"Metal?" You give him another shy smile and push your hair back behind your ear.

Eddie scrunches his nose, "Yeah - like hardcore music," he gestures 'hardcore' with his hands excitedly and you watch him with curious eyes, how excitable he was... a bit like the way Mason would get excited about music, "It's pretty different to what you hear on the local radio, y'know?"

You hum, "my brother likes - different music... I listen to it with him - like Black Sabbath, do you know them?"You blush, feeling a little timid because you’d never spoken about your interests and have someone actually be interested, besides Mason, instead of laughing at you.

Eddie was thinking the exact same thought, girls never took interest in his music... he knew that his band was pretty amateur, but he loved it and planned to aim big one day. He noticed that you were nervous and he internally panicked, which made him fidget and blush, "Y-yeah - they're one of my favorite bands."

"Do you know Behind The Wall Of Sleep?" You find yourself asking shyly, "It's my brother's favorite - it's sorta grown on me too."

Eddie's entire face lights up, "Do I know it? I've bled with it!" He bounces slightly on the bench from excitement.

You stare at him, confused and shy, not knowing what he meant and it made Eddie blush, thinking he'd been too excitable.

"Bled with it as in I played it for hours and hours and my fingers got - all scratched up," Eddie chuckles awkwardly. His small fingers strum the guitar before he notices his band in the room - they were watching him, their eyes darting between him and you. "M-my band is over there," he points them out, they were smirking at him and Eddie's legs became restless, "I should pro-bably go to the-m."

You look at the band, all wearing mostly black - you thought they looked cool and you blushed at them staring, "S-sure," you watched him as he got up, his guitar by his side.

He began to walk away, but halted and turned his head, you noticed this and sat up straight suddenly, "You know - Tink really does suit you," he gives you one last smile before leaving you, you gaze at his back.

After that, you hoped you’d would talk to him again. However, you only exchanged looks and timid grins.

Mason went to see you at the talent show, but your mom, dad and sister didn't, they were too horrified to go and watch - Rebecca had even restrained herself from taking part in the talent show upon finding out that her little sister's act was basketball related.

You had been grounded after, your mom even punctured your basketball, only for Mason to buy you another, which you decided you’d hide under your bed, and play with it whenever your mom was distracted or out of the house.

After the year was over, you never saw Eddie around again - you assumed he moved to high school. You spent most of your time alone because participating in the talent show hadn't done your reputation much good, however, you had gained a friend in Chrissy, who stuck by you, and had continued to stick by you to the end very end of middle school.

🦇𝐒𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟐🦇

It was why Rebecca wanted you to change at the start of high school - because middle school hadn't gone quite to plan for you.

Now that Mason had left Hawkins, Rebecca felt like without the distraction of him being around, it was possible for things change... once you’d gotten his 'delusional' ideas of you being a basketball superstar out of your head.

You sighed at Rebecca's question about coming along with Chrissy in seeking advice in joining the cheer team, "Sure - I'll tag along," joining the cheer team might not be so ba-, your thoughts were interrupted by the 'Hellfire' table - which had been disrupted by some other kids, they'd chucked some of their lunch at the boys.

The boy, Eddie, that had made eye contact with you before you sat down, had turned to face whoever had thrown their food at him and his friends, "Do you mind, asshole?" You watch him as he flips the bird before turning back to his friends, he looked nervous and his nose twitched before he resumed eating his lunch out of the black metal box on the table in front of him, suspiciously guarding it with his arms.

It was the nose twitch, it was all too familiar to you - one of your first proper interactions with a boy that wasn't your brother... you could see it now, in the rest of his features and demeanour, that this was the same boy from the talent show... your breath hitched.

That Eddie Munson is the same Eddie that you’d met at the middle school talent show, the same boy that you once wanted to get to know better - now... you weren’t so sure if you did.

⇝ 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑶𝒏𝒆 ⎈ 𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠! 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆!!!!! 𝐈𝐭'𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐲 <𝟑

𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 ‘𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐨 𝐄𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲’ 𝐨𝐫 ’𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐌𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧’ 𝐭𝐚𝐠-𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰!

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 ↯

𝑭𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝑯𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝑻𝒐 𝑬𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒕𝒚

𝑬𝒅𝒅𝒊𝒆 𝑴𝒖𝒏𝒔𝒐𝒏

@introvertedmouse @munsonology @fastnights @kathieycarrerarosshley @marjoriea13 @goldengunspinkrosses-blog @lolalanaie @neteyamsluvts

⎈

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wandafiction · 9 months ago

Text

Twenty Percent - Just Us Chapter 11

Warnings: Talks of injury, and being in Coma, Lil fluff.

Word Count: 2101

Series List | Chapter 10 | Chapter 12

================================

"No way!" Wanda leans back in her chair, putting her hand over her mouth to try and hide her laughing.

"I was scared shitless! I mean imagine your sister walking in on you doing the nasty on the couch of your shared apartment. She chased me around the room for a good 10 minutes until we realised the girl was very confused." I shake my head as I think back to that night.

"What did the girl do?" Wanda gives me her full attention now she has gotten over her laughing fit.

"She asked what was going on and if she had just become a homewrecker."

"Oh my goodness!" Wanda shakes her head at my antics. "Well I hope you explained that she was your sister."

"Mhm. I did. Then she asked where we had gotten to and my sister left in a hurry."

"I would too if my brother had a girl around." She takes a bite of the muffin she ordered.

"Yeah, I can't tell you how many times I have walked in on my sister and her wife. So you have a brother? Any other siblings." I like this, getting to know someone, thing.

"Yeah, I do." Her expression changes slightly, shit I think I hit a nerve.

"What's he like?" Wanda's eyes look into mine, before looking back down at her hands where she is fiddling with her rings.

"There are so many things. Where do I start?"

"How about his name?" I don't want to push her, but I feel like she wants to talk about him and never really gets the chance.

"His name is Pietro, Pietro Maximoff. He is my twin brother, older by just a few minutes but will never let me forget it." She smiles to herself as she continues. "Even though he is the eldest of the two of us, he is most definitely the child and I feel like a parent to him sometimes. We had so many adventures as children back in Sokovia, and we made memories here too."

Her smile drops. Oh shit.

"I miss him." I grab her hand from across the table giving it a comforting squeeze, she looks up at me and gives me a sad smile a few tears line her eyes. "Uh, sorry I, uhm didn't mean to put a damper on the mood."

"Do not apologise for having emotions. Tell me more." Her head shoots up to look at me in confusion and question.

"Wait really?! You want to hear about my brother?"

"Only with what you're comfortable telling me."

"Okay, just. I haven't spoken about him like this in ages, what do you want to know?" Her eyes fill with hope and the thought she gets to talk about him.

"Why not?" Her eyebrows knit together in confusion. "Why don't you speak about him more often, I mean."

"Well Vis, the twins' dad and my ex husband, wasn't Pietros biggest fan in college or out of college. So it always seemed difficult to bring him up after what happened, and he never asked. So I never told. My friends, work colleagues and those who know enough but never ask questions. It's like they are walking on eggshells and think that if they even mention his name I will have a mental breakdown or something." She uses her sleeve to clear a few of the tears that have escaped, a shaky breathing leaving her lips.

"So tell me more. What's the most embarrassing thing that's happened to you in front of your brother that you know he will never let you live down?" I change the course of the conversation trying to give it a lighter tone, I don't need to know what happened. It's not my business. If she wants to tell me, then it will be her decision and her decision only.

"Oh okay. So it was the twins 10th birthday we had a few family and friends around for a BBQ. Vis had let me know he may be late as he was stuck in a work meeting, so I had to set everything up...he didn't show up in the end. For his own boys' birthdays. Anyway, I was trying to take their minds off it by getting everyone outside the children in the pool and the adults to relax with a drink. It was all going well until I heard Billy call me over to the pool, me being me, I immediately went to the edge of the pool; and bent down to ask him what was wrong. Before he could reply I felt a pair of arms wrap around me, lift me up, and chuck me in the pool. I screamed of course, I mean who wouldn't. It only got worse from there though, because when I came to the surface to find the culprit, my brother, was laughing like there was no tomorrow. However, when he opened his eyes to look at my scowl he covered his eyes with his hand telling me to cover up. Confused, I look down, only to realise I'm wearing a now soaked white top, with no bra underneath because I hadn't had time to sort myself out."

I laugh along with her stories as she continues, nodding my head and adding input every now and again but ultimately just letting her talk about him. It's adorable how much she loves her brother, whenever she remembers something else or even just talking about him her whole face lights up with an infectious smile. Oh god, and that laugh. At one point we both have tears streaming down our faces from laughing so hard. This is nice. I like this. Then her smile falters slightly as she looks at me through her eyelashes.

"Can I tell you what happened?" I lean forward, my elbows resting on the table as I take both her hands in mine giving them a squeeze.

"Only if you're comfortable, and only when you're ready to do so." She goes to say something, but clothes her mouth and mumbles something under her breath. "Sorry Wanda I couldn't quite hear you. What were you saying?"

"Just, he was in the wrong place at the wrong time." She takes a breath, so I decide to scoot my chair next to hers so I can wrap my arm around her.

"Where is he now?" I think I know the answer, but she hasn't actually said it so I cannot make that assumption.

"He is in a coma. Has been for the last 2 years. I'm just grateful that I had him around during the divorce, I don't think I would have gotten through it without him." Okay so he isn't dead like I thought. That's good.

"I'm so sorry Wanda. I know sorry doesn't mean a thing in situations like this, trust me I know. But he isn't truly gone yet so you have to live every moment because from what I've heard he is very much a live life to the fullest sort of person." She buries her head into my chest as she cries quietly, I can feel a wet patch soaking through my sweatshirt but that's not important.

"Is there still hope for him?" I feel her stiffen a bit before relaxing into my hold more.

"The doctors had said there was a 40% chance of him waking up, now it's more like 20%. He was shot multiple times and they said his body is healed so now it's just about him wanting to wake up." She grips into the front of my sweatshirt, it bunching up in her closed fists.

"Well 20% is better than 5%, so he still has a chance. These things take time unfortunately. Even though they say 'it's up to him whether he wakes up or not' what they mean is. Is his brain giving him the fighting chance he needs, and 20%. Well 20% is a hell of a good chance." She looks up at me with a small smile on her face.

"You think so."

"I do. But you still have to remember it can take time, and things do go wrong. I don't want to give you this false sense of security where you believe he will 100% wake up because no one can be sure." She leans up to peck my lips a couple times, before looking up into my eyes.

"Thank you."

"You have nothing to be thankful for. I am just telling you what I think after hearing the story."

"No I do. You didn't withhold any of the truth. People keep saying 20%, that's really good he will wake up. Where you've said 20% it's good, but it's not 100%. So thank you, most people just avoid the topic." She clears her throat as she loosens from my embrace, I quietly whimper at the loss of contact. "What a way for a first date to go."

"Well we have already slept with each other. I mean according to my sister we skipped steps 1-3 and are now doing it all backwards." She hums in thought.

"What's steps 1-3?"

"Well step 1 is the first meeting. So for us it was a club, for others maybe a coffee shop or work. Maybe even online." I lean my arm in the back of her chair, Wanda rests her head on my arm as she brings her left hand up to my arm drawing random shapes. All the time her attention is on me, a small smile plastered on her face as she watches me speak.

"Step 2 would be the talking. Getting to know one another. So texting back and forth, maybe a phone call here and there. Even a video call once or twice. Just talking." Wanda takes her bottom lip between her teeth.

"And step 3?" She asks as she relaxes more against my arm, her piercing green eyes looking right into mine.

"Well step 3 would be the date."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"What would this date consist of? If you were the one to set it up?" She crosses her legs over, her left hand still drawing shapes in my arm as her right one rests on her thighs.

"Well I would take you out to one of the best restaurants I know. Not one of those that sells tiny bits of food that wouldn't even feed a mouse, and at those prices. Pftt, that's extortion. I would take you to a place that sells the most glorious food, that could keep you full for days on end with a nice bottle of wine to go with it. Then as the night goes on, I would take you for a walk just to help keep the calm atmosphere. Of course being the gentlewoman I am, I would take you home waiting till you got into your house. Not before I steal a kiss from you of course. Then I would say I hope we can do this again." I look back at Wanda, as during the storytelling I looked up to the ceiling.

She has this look about her, I can't quite place it. Her bottom lip is between her teeth, her hand that was drawing on my arm now rests gently against my elbow. Her other hand, at some point, has come to rest against my knee, her thumb stroking it gently with miniscule movements. She seems to be in a trance as her eyes look deep into mine, before searching the rest of my face.

"What's that look for?" I question, breaking her out of her trance.

"Nothing. I mean. I've never had a date like that before." Wait what?

"What about your ex husband?" She shakes her head.

"No we met in school, we never really did the whole date thing as we would just hang out at each other's houses whenever we could. After school, at 18, we found out I was pregnant. We did the whole college thing as well with two twin boys. Now that was difficult. But even after we left college, got jobs, and started earning money we never really had date nights. I think we classed going out with friends for meals as our dates." She shakes her head at the thought of her ex husband, going to say something but choosing not to. I don't question her.

"Well then princess. Maybe one day you will get the date you deserve."

"And will that date be with you." She looks up at me through her eyelashes.

"Depends."

"On what?"

"How well this one ends."

================================

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maxmoff x y/n #wanda x reader #wanda x you #just us series

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