#friend oc: quinn

[sweetteainthesummerx]

⋆·˚ ༘ * oh, my, my, my ⋆·˚ ༘ *

nhl masterlist !

pairings: quinn hughes x childhood friend!reader, jack hughes x platonic best friend!reader, quinn x artist!reader

warnings: angst and comfort, fluff

summary: you and quinn throughout the years, and how you fall in love <3

song: mary's song (oh my my my) by taylor swift

word count: 4.4 k

notes: I love lake quinn sm :)

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

our daddies used to joke about the two of us, growing up and falling in love, our mamas smiled, and rolled their eyes

"oh, she's so tiny!" ellen cooes, cradling the little bundle of pink, "and she has your eyes, birdie."

your mother smiles at the nickname her college friend had given her freshman year, when a bird had pooped on her head during a girl's night out.

it stuck (literally), and almost 10 years later, as her best friend holds her babygirl, she's reminded of everything they'd been through together.

"congrats, man. the first girl in the family!" jim slaps your dad on the shoulder, the two men smiling at their wives.

"oh, she's just precious." you yawn, and all of the adults are reduced to an awwing mess.

quinn toddles over, chubby toddler legs still unsure. he lands on his butt half a foot away from ellen, who lifts him up with the hand that wasn't holding you.

"look, quinny."

quinn reaches out a finger towards you, and jim is about to chide him when your tiny little fist locks around it. his wide eyes widen even more. you gurgle happily at him, and for the first time in a while, he goes completely still, enraptured by the baby in front of him.

"oh." your father whispers.

"well, that's your son-in-law now," jim laughs.

"hey, don't count out jack! they're closer in age, after all."

your mom rolls her eyes, as ellen snorts, "let's not pre-write our kid's futures before they're five, please."

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

i was seven and you were nine, i looked at you like the stars that shine

"y'know, birdie," ellen starts, "the boys might be right."

"no, they cannot eat four pb and j's and then go to the carnival-"

"no, not the little ones!", ellen laughs, "our husbands. they might be right."

"oh, that? the whole son-in-law thing?" your mom grins, as she watches luke chase after you with a worm.

the two women are silent and thoughtful as you - screaming at the top of your lungs - duck behind quinn, who sternly tells off his little brother. your sticky hands lace with his, naturally, albeit a bit awkward the way only kids can be.

you absolutely adore quinn. he's your protector, the one you turn to more often than not. jack is your best friend, and you remind her of that often. luke is your baby brother, the one you coddle and fuss over.

and the boys adore you just as much; jack plays pirates with you all day, Luke follows you like a puppy, and quinn...

he's staked a claim on you that makes your mom laugh, but worry a little when your older and you inevitably find someone who isn't him.

it never occurred to her that he might be the one.

"oh my god." your mom says as your dad walks in with jim.

"ha! see? I know I put money on my son for good reason." jim says gleefully, and quickly pipes down at ellen's dirty look.

"jack is also your son, man." your dad shakes his head.

"seriously? you guys made bets on the future love lives of your prepubescent kids?"

"birdie, it's just a joke!"

he eats his words as quinn leads you through the door. you're in tears, a nasty scrape on your knee. he's got your hand cradled in his.

ellen and your mom fawn over it, how brave you were, but all you could remember is how quinn held your hand the whole time.

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

take me back when our world was one block wide, i dared you to kiss me and ran when you tried

when you're ten, you almost have your first kiss.

you're going through a phase, really, when all you would wear were your overall jean shorts, a big t-shirt and your red converses. you have little pen drawings all over your shoes and shorts.

now, when you look at the photos from back then, you cringe a little at how lanky and young you look.

you're with the boys at one of the neighbouring lake houses, a couple of other girls and a few guys too.

everyone there lived on the same block, so it was odd that you hadn't all hung out together before.

quinn can tell you're uncomfortable around the other guys, who are loud and frankly very obnoxious. even his 12-year-old self can tell.

he tells you that you can all leave and go get ice cream near the boardwalk, but you refuse. you're 10 already, you can handle a few new strangers.

somehow, spin the bottle is brought up and you find yourself sitting cross-legged as one of the older girls - who's kind and much more grown than you - tellsdyou how to spin the bottle.

your hands shake and the backs of your knees are slick with sweat, but you spin anyways. you want to seem cool and older too.

you watch the root beer bottled patter as it turns, the ting, ting sound dissonant with your thumping heart.

it lands on quinn.

your quinn who knows all of the words to the spider man movies, who gives the last popsicle to you and lets you tuck your feet under his thighs when you get cold.

this is a disaster, you think, because you don't know how to kiss! are you supposed to use your tongue? you almost gag at the thought.

quinn can see your very apparent panic, and the only thing on his mind was to make it of away.

he wants to hold your hand, but when you turned nine you had decided that boys had cooties, so you refused to touch him or his brothers.

"...we don't have to," he offers, scratching his neck. one of the boys boo, and you flush.

you shook your head, "i want to."

he smiles, shy and boyish and your heart goes into overdrive.

his face matches yours in colour as he scoots forward awkwardly, cupping your face the way he'd seen his dad do to his mom.

as he leans forward, you burst into tears. if you kiss him, and he's disgusted by your kissing skills - or lack thereof - he wouldn't be your quinn anymore.

you run out embarrassed, leaving quinn's hand outstretched and the older girl from earlier confused and worried.

you think that you had ruined it all, but later that night when quinn offers to take you to get ice cream and lets you get two scoops, you know nothing can tear the two of you apart.

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

take me back to the creek beds we turned up, two A.M. riding in your truck and all I need is you next to me

the year quinn turned 16, he gets his boating and drivers license.

when the first real day of summer - he doesn't count the days until he sees you and the lake house again - starts and he finds you making eggs and bacon in the kitchen, he gives you an offer.

"hey, chickie." he tugs playfully at the string of your apron. jim had given you that nickname because of your mom's. chickie, like a baby bird. jack liked to call you chicklet, and Luke followed suit.

the adults think you've outgrown that name, and only call you chickie sporadically.

it's become special for you and quinn, sacred even,

"hi, quinny." you answer in the same tone, swatting him with the spatula in your hand.

"give me a piece of bacon and i'll take you out onto the water. i'll even let you drive a bit when we're far out." he murmurs as you turn the stove off.

"really?" you squeal, and he winces jokingly.

"yes, yes! finally!" you throw yourself at him, letting the older boy catch you around the waist. he grins into your hair, his cheek muscles unused by the seasons without you.

"okay, kid. pipe down. where's my bacon?" he grumbles, but he smiles when you turn around to fix him a whole plate.

you forget in all of your excitement that he doesn't even like bacon.

it's pathetic, really, but he missed you. he still does even though you're less than a foot away from him, salting your scrambled eggs.

he finishes his food faster than you do, and leaves to set up the boat with your promises that you would hurry.

he's excited; he hasn't seen you since christmas, and then, he had to share you with jack and luke and his parents too.

that year, you and jack had become decidedly closer, and quinn knows he has to establish that boat time was for you and him only.

so when jack and luke both follow you onto the boat, whooping and screaming, he's pissed.

and on top of that, he has to drive the boat while you and jack banter and threaten to shove each other off of the moving vessel.

it wasn't fair: you're his person. you guys did gas station runs together, you always looked at him with sad puppy eyes when you were cold.

he'd always grumbled and give you his sweatshirt when you refused to bring a jacket and ended up shivering. you always begged to braid his hair when the sun was at it's highest and there was nothing to do.

so yeah, excuse him if he was mad that your time together was interrupted by jack and luke of all people.

so when you walk up to him, hair messy and wearing nothing but your bathing suit and one of his old hockey jerseys, he tries his best to ignore you.

"quinny!" you exclaim, nudging his shoulder, and once more when he doesn't answer.

he glances quickly at you, but one look is enough to make his chest squeeze in that way that it started to do since last summer.

you had always been beautiful, but you were starting to be seriously gorgeous.

your hair is windblown, skin tanned and freckled with eyes bright from the sheer novelty of it being summer again.

you'd started to fill out more; the tiny bikinis you - and he - loved made something hot tug in his lower stomach.

tucking your hand into the crook of his elbow in the way that always makes him soften like butter, "I thought you were gonna let me drive!"

"ask jack to teach you," he snarks, and regrets it immediately at the hurt on your face.

his chest tightens, like someone has taken the hurt on your features and shoved it between his rib cage so he couldn't breathe.

the two of you don't talk for the rest of the day.

quinn feels like an asshole, and he really doesn't like how you refuse to sit in your normal spot next to him during movie night, instead opting to tuck yourself between the edge of the couch and luke.

and the salt on the wound was when you don't laugh at the stupid jokes he makes for you, especially.

his mom asks him what he had done when he goes to get more popcorn in the kitchen.

"what? why did you automatically assume I didn't something?" he asked, offended.

"because, that girl sticks to you like a magnet," ellen smooths his temple, "and because no one makes you smile and talk like she does. you've been silent all day."

the next night, he shows up at the door of your room in the lake house your two families shared.

he knocks, and pokes his head in, "chickie?

you're at your table, drawing again like you always were.

he keeps the little sketch of him you made last summer in his wallet, tucked under the picture of all of the hughes boys and you.

you ignore him, and he flops on your bed. the floral sheets your mom bought when you were 11 smells like you. he tries not to be creepy and inhale - at least too noticeably.

"gas station run?" he asks.

you finally spare him a glance, "quinny, it's past one o'clock, and it'll take at least 20 minuted to get there."

"please? I really want chips."

you sigh, ever the martyr, and agree. neither of you mention how the hughes stock up enough snacks to last at least 2 months the beginning of every summer.

the battle of who cracks first kept on, until finally, on the way back from the gas station, quinn sighs, "I'm sorry.

you frown, clearly not impressed, "I don't even know why you're sorry."

"god, this is embarrassing-"

"quintin, i swear-"

"i wanted the boat ride to be just us two!" he exclaims loudly.

there was a beat of silence, only the chirp of crickets that crept in the tall grass you could hear through the open windows of jim's truck.

the light on the radio shined, 1:59 AM.

"what?" you ask, a little confused and very much flustered.

"i missed you, chickie, and jack is always monopolizing your time! you're my person and-"

"are you jealous?"

"what?"

"oh my god, you are! you're jealous!"

"no!" he splutters, grateful that it's pitch black outside, because he can feel his ears heating up.

you laugh, tugging at one of his curls, as he grumbles something about not letting you eat any of his salt and vinegar chips.

"quinny?" you ask a little while later, when he's pulling back into the drive way, "y'know that you're my person too, right?"

you look soft and sleepy, under the light of the car, in one of his hoodies and sleep shorts.

he swears he turns into liquid in the drivers seat.

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

well, i was sixteen when suddenly, i wasn't that little girl you used to see

"I wouldn't worry about that, chicklet." jack throws his arm around you, and you roll your eyes at the many girls starting to glare at you.

"I don't know what you're talking about." except you do.

there's a girl flirting with quinn, and she's pretty. she's got tattoos on her arms, and she's tall, almost tall at him.

you take a break from the self-deprecating comparison between yourself and her to admire quinn for one second.

he's gotten so tall and broad, all the signs of boyhood gone, except when he smiles that special smile for you. the one when his eyes get all squinty and he bares all of his pretty teeth.

your heart twists, because he hasn't smiled at you like that all summer.

you don't know what you did wrong. maybe he's outgrowing you. he'll be a college man next fall, and you're still in high school.

he's got the whole world in front of him, and well, you couldn't blame him if he didn't want to settle for you.

you realize your feelings for him the beginning of the summer.

or you uncover them, because if you're honest, they've always been there.

and right now, you're wearing your heart on your sleeve, because he looks so handsome in a tight black t-shirt and shorts, a backwards cap on his curls.

his biceps look huge, and between the teenage hormones and the two shots in your system, you want to climb him like a tree.

the more romantic side of you wished you had your charcoal and parchment, so you can copy down his likeness for when your old and greying and you can't remember how he looks illuminated by the moon and bonfire.

"yeah, sure. you're clueless." jack snorts, and he makes his way to the drink table at the party you're at.

you pass by Luke, who's preoccupied by a girl way too old for him, and go sit closer to the fire.

you're mad.

you're mad because you've dressed up real cute, in a tiny black tube top and denim shorts.

you're mad because your hair is curled the way quinn likes it.

you know that for a fact because every time it looks like that, he comes up behind you to wind his fingers through a strand. it was a hassle, and he won't even look at you.

"what's a pretty girl like you doing alone?"

it's a boy with mussed, brown hair and a nice smile.

he's cute. peter, or pierre, he introduces himself. he reminds you a bit of the boyfriend you had first semester of sophomore year.

you've had boyfriends, and quinn has had his relationships, but summer was sacred.

that's why you felt ill when you flirted with him, not because quinn was a mere 20 feet away, starting to glance over and frown.

quinn has always been a jealous motherfucker; you'd give it 5 minutes before he comes over.

you try not to gloat when he comes over in 2.

"hey, chickie. time to go." he tells you, taking you cup and winding an arm around your waist.

you roll your eyes, pushing him off, "no, I'm good here,"

quinn crosses his arms and puffs out his chest, biceps flexing in front of you.

the boy smiles - you've already forgotten his name, something p - and shrugs at quinn.

he's mad now, you can tell, but you wrap you're fingers around the other boy's elbow to egg him on.

"oh, for- that's it. c'mon."

suddenly, your feet are swept out from under you, and you're thrown over his shoulder.

you frown, realizing that you're in the air.

"hey!" you protest weakly as people turn to look at you. quinn continues his trudge all the way to where he's parked his dad's truck and dumps you on the hood like you weigh nothing.

"what are you doing?" he asks, eyes dark, "that guy is no good-"

"no! what are you doing?" all of your frustration pools in your throat, and embarrassing tears are starting to prick at your eyes.

"you won't even look at me all summer, you're flirting with some girl and you get mad at me? you're being such-"

he shakes his head, looking as exasperated as you feel.

"do you know how hard it is-" he breathes out shakily, "how difficult it is to control myself around you?"

"what?" you ask, heart beating in your ears, "what?"

"i have been in love with you since i was 12, chickie." his tone is begging, and so are his eyes.

he looks pained, and you want to relieve it so, so badly. but he still won't touch you. he's hovering away from you, like he has for the past month.

"i love you, and you see me nothing more than a brother, like how you see jack. and it hurts, here," he rubs the heel of his palm between his ribs, "to know that you'll never want me the same way."

"quinn-"

"no, let me talk. I've spent the past 6 years pining after you. I've tried to move on, but all...nothing compares to you. I want you so bad, chickie, but..." he turns from you, head in his hands.

now, if you weren't like 3 beers and 2 shots deep, you would realize that he can't really go anywhere because you're quite literally on the top of his car.

but drunk you is clearly a dumbass, because you think he's trying to leave. so you tell him what's actually on your mind.

"i love you!" you blurt out.

he turns slowly, "what?"

"i love you too. i thought you didn't want me because you're leaving for college, but i want you so bad, please-"

the next thing you know, he's between your legs, so warm and solid, pulling you in by your cheek like during that spin the bottle game 6 years ago.

you let him kiss you for real this time, you let him push up your shorts to feel more of your skin, you let him lick into your mouth.

he pulls away, and you whine, tugging him in again.

he laughs, which makes you laugh in turn, and you slide down the hood as you giggle. he catches you, because he always does.

"i love you." you tell him, and he flushes, nuzzling into your neck.

"say it again," he demands, just because he can.

"i love you, my quinny." you coo, and he wants to crawl into your skin and settle there forever.

"i love you too, chickie."

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

oh, my, my, my

"told you so." Jim tells the rest of the parents.

the four of them - the weirdos - are on the second floor, leaning on the bannister as you make breakfast with quinn.

well, you make breakfast and he's distracting you.

he's got his arms wrapped around your shoulders from the back, and the two of you waddle like a pair of penguins around the kitchen gathering ingredients for pancakes.

you're giggling, and he's got a half-smile on his face.

you look so happy together than ellen and your mom are ignoring jim's gloating.

they are even kind enough to ignore the exchange of money between the two men, after all, your dad had bet on jack and lost.

"i can't wait for their wedding."

"hold on, now!"

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

a few years had gone and come around, we were sitting at our favorite spot in town and you looked at me, got down on one knee

you're on Quinn's lap, content and warm. the two of you had gotten up to watch the sunrise, first day of the summer at the lake house.

it's nice to have everyone in one place again, the two of you coming from vancouver, the boys from new jersey.

the past couple of years had been hard; a year or two long distance, until you went to study architecture at UBC after quinn had been drafted.

this year, 24 and 22, you finally get some rest and the promise of settling down more.

quinn's captain, and you have a good job that lets you work remote and do what you love.

and more importantly, the two of you are always together.

"babe?" quinn asks, running a hand down your arms, "c'mon, let's go to the dock?"

you don't protest, just happy to be at your childhood lake house.

he leads you there, like he always does.

"pretty." you stare out at the water, orange and pink sky meeting in the still horizon.

"yeah." quinn gives you a smile, rare for anyone else.

but he has always smiled for you, and you greedily hoard them in your memories.

"got something to show you," he pulls his wallet out, the two pictures in the clear flaps catch your eye.

one is a polaroid of you and your boys. quinn is 15, jack is 14, you're 13 and luke is 11. all of you are lanky and awkward, wrapped around each other and grinning ear to ear.

the other is also a polaroid, taken by ellen a year or two ago, when all of your parents came to visit your Vancouver apartment.

quinn's arm is around your shoulders and you're clinging to his side, one hand curled around his waist and the other on his chest. you're smiling at the camera, and quinn is smiling at you.

"cute," you tell him, but he digs a finger into the little pocket.

"fuck," he swears when whatever he's looking for doesn't come out.

"here, let me," you offer. you retrieve a piece of thick parchment with your smaller hands.

it's a sketch of quinn you did when you were in your early teens.

it's not great, you have to admit. the lines aren't smooth like how you sketch now, but the ink and paper is in pristine condition.

"quinn...you kept this?" you ask softly, oddly emotional.

when you look at him, he has a weird look on his face. he scratches his neck.

you stare at each other for a moment, the familiarity of your love almost stifling in the cool morning air.

and then he drops down on one knee.

you start crying, immediately.

that sets him off, and the two of you are blubbering as he tries to get through the speech he wrote in his notes 7 months ago after he got the ring and you were in the shower.

he tells you he loves you, how he's never going to leave you, that you're going to build a life together, just like how you've done everything together since you were kids.

you believe him, because your quinn is nothing if not earnest and steady.

you let him slip the simple ring onto your finger, and he lifts you up into strong arms to kiss you.

you're so deliriously happy that your teeth clash with his in a smiling kiss.

your families cheers from the porch, and you laugh, watery and heart full.

jack runs up first, swinging you around and clapping his hand down on quinn's shoulder.

Luke kisses your cheek and hugs his older brother, as ellen and your mom hug you together.

jim wraps his arms around you, pressing his lips to your forehead, "thanks for helping me win the bet, chickie." you chuckle, reaching for your dad next.

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

take me back to the time when we walked down the aisle, our whole town came and our mamas cried, you said I do and I did too

the wedding takes place a year later, in a small winery near the house, because ellen and your mom refused to let you have the wedding on the dock.

this was your compromise, because it's a small affair.

your dad walks you down the aisle to quinn. you're smiling, like there's a hanger in your mouth because you're just so happy.

he cries when he sees you, and so do the other hughes boys.

you hear your mom and ellen, tears meeting shaky smiles on their faces.

your own college friend, your birdie, fixes your veil and holds your bouquet.

sweet promises are exchanged in your vows, and when you have your first kiss as mr. and mrs. hughes, all of your loved ones cheer.

quinn sweeps you off your feet and bridal carries you to a change room so you can switch into your reception dress.

he sees you later as jack, who volunteered to be the mc, announces you guys as mr. and mrs. hughes.

quinn's eyes are hot and dark as he sees your smooth skin under white lace, and whispers something into the shell of your ear that makes you pink.

you dance together, with his brothers and his dad, with your own too.

but the last dance is saved for the two of you.

"i can't wait to grow old with you, chickie." he whispers romantically.

"you'd make such a cute old man," you tell him, and he rolls his eyes.

you laugh, and so does he.

forever sounds real good to you.

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

© sweetteainthesummerx.tumblr. all rights reserved. unauthorized copying, translation, or claiming of my writing or any works as your own is strictly prohibited.

[thedarkzyxabyss]

Finally worked up the courage to actually post about OC lore via animatic! Go check it out!!

You may find out more stuff about tv who knows

[bluetortoist]

☕️ The time has come," the Walrus said, "To talk of many things:

I like to think that Eleanor/Alice occasionally holds special tea party's for all the women rogues~

Mostly as a way to talk business and alliances, keeping up with each other's plans to not overlap or get in the others way, but also to occasionaly gossip, rant about things, and of course, to chatter! Not all ladies come (whether they want to or don't), but Eleanor sends invites to everyone every time and has enough room for everyone.

Also including @thedragonchilde 's OC, May Markowitz/Trick Deck because they're the coolest peep I know and May is the love of my life too~ 💙

[thehollowwriter]

🫡🫡

HEEEELP I CAN'T BREATHE TUWGSKDGKRJA HELLO???? THANK YOU FOR THIS, ITS A TREASURE!!!!!

Tagging: @distant-velleity @br3adtoasty @rainesol @theleechyskrunkly @jovieinramshackle

@galaxies-and-gore @cyanide-latte @cynthinesia @officialdaydreamer00 @krenenbaker

@offorestsongs @kitwasnothere @elenauaurs @boopshoops @inotonline

@1dont-really-know @kazumify @minteasketches @elysia-nsimp @skrimpyskimpy

@casp1an-sea @offorestsongs @tixdixl @poisoned-pearls @the-trinket-witch

@ramshacklerumble @ghostiidasponk @thegoldencontracts @cloudcountry @skriblee-ksk

@twstinginthewind @theolivetree123 @natsukishinomiyaswife @authoruio

@jewelulu @raguiras @honeynclove @quartztwst

[shortnspidey]

CHAPTER TWO: UNFORGETTABLE ENCOUNTERS

Eddie Munson x OC!Reader || WC: 1.6K

A/N: lyra and Billy have arrived at hawkins!! Anyone else think Jonathan is criminally underrated? I know this chapter was kinda boring and a filler chapter for what's to come. I'm so excited to write the famous Halloween episode! Eddie and Lyra scenes coming soon!

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Lyra knew that Billy was a sucker for attention. However, this was certainly not the way she expected to arrive at her new High School. As if from a scene in a movie, heads turned to his sleek, dark blue Camaro pulling into the parking lot. The music blaring from the car speakers adding to the anticipation. As Billy parks the car, out steps Max, Lyra following close behind. "Have a good day at school, Cherry." Lyra smiled handing Max her skateboard and watching her skate away.

"She better not be late." Billy chastised throwing his cigarette bud on the ground. "You just love to make an entrance don't you." Lyra scoffed playfully reading Billy like an open book. As Lyra leaned over to get her backpack from the backseat, Billy immediately noticed the amount of male attention she was attracting. Not liking it one bit.

Completely oblivious, Lyra swung her backpack over her shoulders ready to get the awkward introductions out of the way. "Where do you think you're going?" Billy questioned glaring at his sister. "To the main office, we have to pick up our class schedules." Lyra looked at him as if he had grown two heads. "Wearing that," He gestured to the Def Leppard cropped top.

"I don't think so." He tsked pulling a black leather jacket from the trunk of his car. "It's your shirt. I stole it from your closet." She deadpanned giving him the meanest glare she could muster. "Just put the damn thing on." He insisted, throwing his leather jacket in her direction. For the sake of not wanting to argue knowing how stubborn and hot-headed he was she did as he asked. "Happy?" She grumbled sarcastically. "Ecstatic." He retorted with an eye roll. 

It was getting harder and harder for Lyra to ignore the whispers and blatant stares that they were both receiving upon walking toward the main office. She knew that both males and females found Billy attractive.  With his tall, muscular frame, perfectly styled blonde hair, and confident swagger, he exuded an air of mystery and rebellion. Billy's presence has certainly made an impression, and the tension in the air is almost tangible.

On the other hand, Billy was scowling at anyone who dared to look at Lyra for more than five seconds. There was a reason why he had handed her his precious leather jacket. He had no problem knocking out any dirtbag who so much as looked at his sister with lustful intentions or even dared to wolf whistle in her direction. Both siblings made their way to the administration office, where a sign reading "Class Schedules Here" hung crookedly on the door.

Inside, the room was filled with the soft hum of fluorescent lights and the faint smell of copier ink. The walls were adorned with bulletin boards showcasing upcoming events and motivational posters that seemed to promise endless possibilities. A table near the entrance was stacked with neatly arranged packets of paper, each labeled with a different grade level. Lyra and Billy exchanged a glance before reaching for the pile designated for seniors.

Their fingers brushed against the smooth, cool surface of the schedules as they slid one out from the stack. With schedules in hand, they stepped aside, allowing other eager students to grab their own. They unfolded the papers, revealing a grid of classes, room numbers, and teacher names. "Intro to Psychology." Lyra muttered assessing her first class of the day. "What about you?" Billy shrugged handing his sister his class schedule. "Who cares, I'm ditching."

The blonde rolled her eyes. "Just don't get caught." Billy scoffed, nonchalantly checking out the cheerleaders who walked by. "I'll see you later." Walking off to find her locker, she was surprised to see Billy hot on her trail. "You let me know if anyone bothers you." Billy declared leaning against the locker next to his sisters. "Easy, Hellraiser," She taunted spinning the dial on her locker and managing to open it on the first try. "I can handle myself. Have fun ditching." With a mischievous grin, Billy sauntered off, leaving Lyra to face her first class of the day.

Thankfully, Lyra's psychology teacher did not bother to introduce her as the new student in front of the whole class. She exhaled a silent sigh of relief and slipped into the back of the classroom, her teacher's eyes only briefly acknowledging her presence before returning to the lesson at hand. Gratitude washed over her; there would be no standing in front of the class, no spotlight to amplify her discomfort, and no need to articulate the reasons behind her and her brother's abrupt transfer during the final stretch of high school.

She settled into an empty desk, the cool surface a welcome barrier between herself and the sea of unfamiliar faces. The hum of the fluorescent lights overhead mingled with the murmur of her classmates, creating a cocoon of anonymity. Lyra's heart rate steadied as she realized she could blend into the background, at least for now. As the teacher dove into the intricacies of the human mind, Lyra allowed herself a moment to observe her peers from the safety of her peripheral vision.

No one spared her more than a cursory glance, and that was just fine with her. Here, in this small corner of the world, Lyra could be just another student, her story tucked quietly away beneath the layers of adolescent complexity that filled the room. Luckily the lecture went by smoothly, after a few notes and intricate doodles scrawled in her notebook the school bell rang, signaling the end of class. She quickly grabbed her book bag, making a mental note to stop by her locker to exchange her books.

"Hey," The voice of one of her classmates, Tina, she recalled interrupts her thoughts. "You're new, right?" Instead of saying something snarky and borderline sarcastic, Lyra chooses to instead nod awkwardly. "I'm throwing a Halloween bash tomorrow, hope you can make it." Lyra flashed her a faux smile taking the orange flyer from her hand. "Oh, and feel free to bring that sexy boyfriend of yours." Lyra couldn't hold back the look of disgust that made its way onto her face.

"Billy's not my boyfriend, he's my brother." Tina's smile only grew. "Good to know." Lyra took that as her cue to leave shoving the flyer into her bag and giving the curly-haired brunette another fake smile. The school halls are buzzing with the energy of students rushing to their next class. Amidst the chatter and locker slams, Lyra navigates her way through the crowd. That's when she spots them—a huddle of muscular athletes, their letterman jackets a stark contrast to the sea of regular high school attire.

They're looming over a brunette boy whose back is pressed against the cold metal of the lockers. His eyes are wide, darting around for an escape that doesn't exist, his hands fumbling with the straps of his backpack. Lyra's steps falter for a second, taking in the scene. The boy is practically shrinking under the weight of the athletes' sneering superiority. One of the jocks, a tall guy with a smirk that's all teeth, is leaning in too close, his hand raised reaching for his camera.

"Hey, Byers, who are you spying on today?" One of them jeers, snatching the camera strap. Lyra watches as he tries to grab his camera back, but the jocks are playing keep away, laughing at his attempts. Without missing a beat, Lyra strides over with a palpable determination. Her presence shifts the air, and the jocks' attention snaps to her, their mockery momentarily forgotten. The boy seems to hold his breath, his eyes meeting Lyra's for a fleeting second. Lyra stands her ground, her voice cutting through the tension like a knife.

"Beat it assholes." She challenges them, her tone laced with a confidence that belies her status as the new kid. The athletes, caught off guard by her boldness, falter, their facade of invincibility cracking. The standoff is brief but intense, and as quickly as it begins, it ends. The jocks, with a roll of their eyes and a huff of annoyance, back off. They throw a final, warning glance at the brunette boy before they disperse.

Their egos bruised but not quite ready to admit defeat. Lyra offers a hand to the boy, helping him regain his composure. He's visibly relieved, his gratitude evident as he adjusts his camera strap and mumbles a shy "Thanks." She nods, a silent pact forming between them. "Don't mention it," Sticking her hand out she takes the moment to introduce herself.

"Lyra Hargrove." Shuffling the strap of his camera over his shoulder, he meets her halfway shaking her hand. "Jonathan Byres." With the final shrill of the warning bell Lyra gives him one last smile before walking toward the opposite end of the hallway. "Nice to meet you, stay outta trouble, Jonathan Byers." And with that, both teens disappeared into the sea of high schoolers.

[cirqueduroyale]

Best Friends Forever!

[tetradualiess]

art and some shitpostingggg

[naciela]

new group friend

well, I would like to say that this is a new group friend if Raafa ever makes the newest one. funny enough that it fills with an undead, a clown? (I still dont know what Trickster are) and an exorcist

in order

@vandervamp - Havran

@elderdeityofthestars - Quinn Durand

@boiling-potato - Trickster

they can't replace the old one but this one would give color in Raafa's unexpected life XD

[small-world-au]

who do you think is most likely to catch the bouquet at the wedding (if that’s happening)

Either jellybeans, mandolive, robobird or Ladytramp (Luna x Vinnie).

Idk bro! Let’s see!

[chaoticbeanz]

Hellfire's Girl

Summary- A new girl moves to Hawkins and has already made an impression. 

Pairing- Eddie Munson x Fem!oc

Warnings- friends to lovers, slow burn, she/her pronouns, cursing, mainly nickname will be used, 

Notes- This is my first Eddie fic. Also, I will be straying from the storyline. Please don't forget to comment. I'd love to hear feedback.

Masterlist

Part 2 Part 3

~Lena~

Moving to Hawkins wasn't as bad as I had originally thought. Sure it sucks that I had to leave, but knowing I was only about 3 hours away from my friends made me feel better about it.

Starting my senior year in a new high school on the other hand… blows.

Well, it would have if I cared about fitting in. Back home no one judged. But here? Oh boy did they. I had to keep some of my hobbies on the down low, for now at least. Apparently, Dungeons and Dragons was considered “Devil worshipping”. So much for me trying to find people to teach me how to play. Or so I thought. Barely one week in Hawkins High is all it took for me to make a friend. Or a few.

~English class~

I was sitting in the back because I couldn't pay attention today. I was a passing student so I wasn't worried. 

As I tuned out the teacher, I started doodling on what should've been my notes. The only thing on my mind was smoking my last joint that was tucked away in my car. I was unconsciously drawing clouds around the leaf I had made on my paper.

“Hey, New girl.” I heard whispers next to me. Turning my head to see a boy wearing a shirt with the words “Hellfire Club”. Maybe it was a new band?

“Do you partake or just like drawing?”

This felt like a trick question. Was he trying to get me caught or being friendly? I've learned quickly not to trust anyone yet. The jocks and the cheerleaders are the royalty in the ranks. Any lower on the food chain and you're a target no matter what.

He felt my hesitation to the question so he continued, “I only ask because if you need “flower”- he points to my picture- I know a guy.”

That sounds even more suspicious! I lean in slightly whispering, “You do realize how that sounds like a total set up right? Why should I trust you?”

The boy puts his hands up in defense.“That's fair. But wouldn't me asking you just be me outing myself? Why would I rat both of us out?”

“Touche.”

“I’m Gareth by the way.”

“Lena. And hypothetically if I were to say I had “flower”. Would you partake?”

“Uh Duh.” We both laughed silently.

“You seem pretty cool Gareth.” I could tell that took him by surprise but he tried to cover it up. 

“Uh, thanks. So do you.” he paused for a second “Would you wanna come sit with me and my friends during lunch? I can't guarantee that you'll think they'll be as cool as me but…” I giggled.

“I’d love to. And trust me if they're like you I'll like them way better than the “royalty”.”

With that said the bell had rung, dismissing everyone for lunch. I put my notebook in my bag seeing Gareth standing in the corner of my eye. Like he's waiting for me. How sweet.

“I have to put some stuff in my locker. You can go ahead and I'll find you.” I smiled at him. He nodded his head but looked unsure. Like he thought I was lying about sitting with them. Nonetheless, he walks out of the room towards the lunch room while I head to my locker.

~3rd Person~

As Gareth walked to the lunch room, he thought about Lena. Was she being serious about sitting with them? Regardless he would have to mention her to his friends. Even if she didn't sit with them she was one of the good ones.

As he walks through the doors, a roar of multiple conversations bounces off the walls. He grabs his lunch and then heads to his table with his dungeon master and best friend seated at the head of the table.

The kiddies arrived just as he sat down. Now was his chance.

“Hey guys, I invited the new girl to sit with us.”

Everyone at the table paused as if processing what Gareth had said. Then a chorus of laughs erupted from the group. “I’m serious!”

Eddie wipes a fake tear from his eye. “Good one Gare.”

“Yeah like a girl is gonna sit with us.”Jeff rolls his eyes.

“You're delusional man!”

With Gareth trying to defend himself and the group in denial, they had not noticed Lena approaching their table.

~Lena~

I rushed to my locker to dump whatever I didn't need for my next classes. Then into the bathroom to make sure I didn't look crazy. I wanted to make a good first impression on Gareth's friends. It’d be nice to have real people to hang out with who are not snobby rich fakers.

When I got to the cafeteria I scanned the room to find Gareth while going through the line to just get some fruit. Surprised that they had peaches I grabbed two then spotted Gareth after I paid. 

As I was heading to the table, a blonde cheerleader I met earlier stopped me. I think her name was Chrissy.

“Hey, would you like to sit with me and the girls?” she smiled sweetly.

“Oh thanks but I've got a seat already.” offering her a smile back. I didn't want to hurt her feelings because she seemed like the only genuine popular girl I'd met.

“Oh, that's okay! Maybe next time.” she then walked away to her table.

I started walking again and as I approached the table it seemed like they were arguing about something. Before you could catch what was going on they all fell quiet when you stood in front of their table. Looking at the boy standing at the opposite side of the table. 

~3rd Person~

Eddie was not buying it for one second as soon as the sentence left Gareth's mouth. A new girl sitting with them? The freaks of Hawkins High? Yeah right. But alas Eddie believed that Gareth was committed to the bit til he had enough. He stood from his chair and slammed his hands on the table.

“For fucks sake! Why would she…” 

He never finished his sentence. Once he saw her walking and stop right in front of his table he was speechless. No one ever makes Eddie Munson speechless. 

The boys turned to see why he shut up and were equally astonished, besides Gareth of course. He wore a smug smile, crossing his arms and leaning back into his chair. 

“Uh hi. Gareth said I could sit with you guys.”

Silence from the whole table. They just couldn't believe that Gareth was telling the truth. With no response, she tried again.

~Lena~

“Is that okay?” I asked as I looked at the boy directly across from me. He seemed like the leader of the pack so I awaited his response. But nothing. They all just stared at me like they had never seen a girl before. I don't know if I should be flattered or concerned. Before I could feel embarrassed and think this was a bad idea, Gareth spoke up.

“Here, you can sit next to me.” He scooted the chair next to him out for me to sit.

I sat down hesitantly, eyeing everyone as they still didn't speak. Lingering a little longer on the curly long-haired boy. He was cute no doubt. I toss that thought immediately away. Friends Lena. You're making friends. It was too soon to be having a crush on someone.

“Don't mind them. They didn't believe me when I said you were sitting with us.”

Gareth went around the table, introducing everyone to me. Next to him was Jeff. Across from me was Mike, and to his right was Dustin and Doug. Lastly, at the head of the table was Eddie. “Guys, this is Lena.”

I gave them all a smile and waved. Also noticed that they all wore the same shirt. I made a mental note to ask about it.

 Dustin seemed to be the first of the group to come to his senses. “So, where are you from?”

“Harrison. It's about a half hour outside of Cincinnati.”

“What made you come to Hawkins?” Mike asked with a confused face.

“Uh, well my dad overlooks construction jobs. The company he works for has a new location. So he decided to move closer since he’ll be running that place.”

Everyone seemed to become more comfortable as I answered their questions. Seemingly deciding that I wasn't a threat. As I talked I subconsciously worked on opening my peach. It was what I always did to them. Slightly crack open the top, and run my finger all the way around. Now and then lick my finger to stop the juice from running down my hand then twist until it splits in half.  Once opened I took a bite and noticed they all were staring again.

“What?” I said wiping the corner of my mouth.

“How in the hell did you just do that?” Jeff asked.

I couldn't help but giggle. “It’s my party trick.” I took another bite.

~3rd Person~

“Is that okay?”

The way she looked at Eddie stirred something inside of him. Genuinely asking for permission. His permission to sit with them. He was so dumbfounded to speak. Just taking her in. From her pretty brown eyes to the Queen t-shirt and jeans she wore that hugged her curves in all the right places to her ring-adorned hands holding peaches. She looked godsent. Well, at least that's what Eddie was thinking. He got a weird feeling as he saw you take the seat next to Gareth. Jealousy? What? No way he was already crushing on the new girl?! He barely even spoke a word to her, just listened to her answer any questions the guys had.

He watched her as she absentmindedly moved her fingers through the peach. His mind started creating naughty thoughts he couldn't shake away. The way she licked her fingers, completely oblivious to what she was doing to him. The juice of the peach slipped out the corner of her mouth as she took a bite. All he wanted to do was lick it off her. Oh, how he was already done for. 

Jeff was the first to express his bewilderedness. Man, hearing her giggle? Eddie wanted to bottle it up and keep it forever.

“It’s how I've always eaten peaches. They're my favorite,” she says like it is the most obvious answer in the world. Before anyone could ask about the side with the pit, she does the same trick to split it again in half and then pop the clean pit out. She holds out a slice offering it up to anyone. Before Eddie could act, Dustin took the offering.

“Well in that case should we be calling you Peaches then?” Gareth joked.

She pondered the thought and then shrugged with a smile. “I wouldn't mind that.” Right at that moment, Hellfire as a collective decided that from now on they would only call her Peaches.

Tagged: @luv4peterba1lard @arlxtarts @midnyghtsolstice

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it.

If you would like to be tagged or share your thoughts please leave a comment. It would be greatly appreciated.

part 2 underway

[zorphie]

hmm experimenting with my coloring so i made a bunch of special character cards for my guys hiiii🙏

[meeks-just-wants-to-scroll]

I missed tweening and this is the best shit i have ever made.

Boone owned by @cupiidskiss

[valkavavaart]

cooking boys boys who can absolutely cook so well

[thewritingofspencerrose]

Twenty years ago she was adopted by the Hughes. Now? She's made a name for herself, leading a sports podcast for women explaining everything hockey, football, and formula one.

But what happens when her last name she had thought nothing of leads to the attention of the formula one grid, and an invite to the Canadian Grand Prix introduces her to a past she didn't even know she had?

This is not completely timeline accurate to life, it is a story of fiction that has been adapted to tell a story

Max Verstappen x Sister | Quinn, Jack, and Luke Hughes x Adopted Sister | Cole Caufield x Best Friends Sister

May 19th: Special guests, the Hughes Brothers

May 26th: Special guest, Cole Caufield

June 2nd: Special guest, Nico Hischier

June 8th & 9th (Canadian Grand Prix): - Behind the Scenes - Special guests, Lance Stroll & Fernando Alonso

[thehollowwriter]

Silas sends Finn to a school on land, not knowing he's going to end up adopting several traumatised teenagers XD

Inspired by this post and some of the replies to it

I tried my best 😔 sorry if it looks quite clunky

Chrysos and Yu: @distant-velleity

Gia: @ramshacklerumble

Yuu-shi: @boopshoops

Caspian: @casp1an-sea

Lilian: @the-banana-0verlord

Kingsley: @tixdixl

Ophelia: @officialdaydreamer00

Aurinelle: @theleechyskrunkly

Tagging: @br3adtoasty @rainesol @jovieinramshackle @galaxies-and-gore @cyanide-latte @cynthinesia

@krenenbaker @offorestsongs @kitwasnothere @elenauaurs @inotonline

@1dont-really-know @kazumify @minteasketches @elysia-nsimp @skrimpyskimpy

@offorestsongs @poisoned-pearls @the-trinket-witch @ghostiidasponk @thegoldencontracts

@cloudcountry @skriblee-ksk @twstinginthewind @lumdays @quartztwst @natsukishinomiyaswife

@authoruio @jewelulu @raguiras

[shortnspidey]

CHAPTER FIVE: TRICK OR TREAT, FREAK

Eddie Munson x OC!Reader || WC: 2.2k

A/N: this chapter is definitely my favorite one that I've written for this series! I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I loved writing it! This made me realize I'm SO ready for Halloween! 🎃

➩ previous chapter || next chapter

➩ main masterlist

➩ series masterlist

"That's your costume?" Max's eyes were wide, a mix of surprise and the typical candor that Lyra had come to expect. There was no malice there, just the blunt honesty. Taken aback but not entirely shocked by her bluntness, Lyra's gaze dropped to her last-minute costume. The leather clung to her like a second skin, the fishnets adding a layer of punk rock chic that she had thought was perfect for the night.

Yet, seeing herself through her sister's eyes, she couldn't help the grimace that tugged at her lips. "It's that bad?" Her voice was a soft echo of doubt amidst the certainty of her sister's judgment. Max simply shrugged. "Neil's going to freak when he sees that nose ring." There was a hint of amusement in her tone, the kind that suggested she was picturing the scene already.

Lyra reached up instinctively, her fingers grazing the small, gold hoop that adorned her right nostril. It was a bold choice, but it was also a harmless rebellion. "It's fake." She replied quickly, the defense a knee-jerk reaction to the implied criticism. The nose ring was just another part of the costume, a temporary addition to her look that could be removed with the same ease as the leather jacket that hung off her shoulders.

It was all part of the night's facade, a character she could put on and take off at will. But for a moment, under her sister's scrutinizing gaze, it felt almost real. "You and Billy could be twins." Although she knew the redhead meant it as a joke, Lyra's stomach twisted into knots thinking back to what had happened a few hours prior. Max's voice cut through her reverie, pragmatic and laced with concern.

"So I take it you're still going to that party?" Lyra nodded, feeling the weight of responsibility settle on her shoulders. "You know I have to go, Max. Billy's a completely different person when he's high and wasted," She sighed, her voice tinged with a mix of resignation and protectiveness. It wasn't just a party for her; it was a mission to keep her brother safe from his excesses.

Max's expression softened, her teasing demeanor giving way to sisterly affection. "Just...be careful, okay?" She urged, reaching out to squeeze Lyra's hand. Lyra offered a small, determined smile. "Always am," She replied, though the promise felt as flimsy as the fake nose ring she wore. Tonight, she'd be the guardian angel dressed in devil's clothing, watching over her brother, hoping the night would end with nothing more than a hangover and a few good stories.

After trudging through the neighborhood for what felt like miles, their shoes scuffing against the cracked sidewalks lined with jack-o'-lanterns, Max turned to Lyra with a reassuring smile. "I'll be fine Trick-Or-Treating on my own if you want to go to the party. Knowing Billy he's already there." Lyra bit her lip, the streetlights casting long shadows as costumed children darted past them, their laughter a stark contrast to the unease knotting her insides.

She wasn't fond of the idea, the protective streak in her always on high alert during nights like these. Max could see the hesitation dancing in Lyra's eyes, the way she clutched her candy bag a little tighter. With a playful roll of her eyes and a dramatic sigh, Max launched into a full-on campaign. She promised she'd stick to well-lit streets, and, most importantly, be back before Niel got home.

After what seemed like an eternity of bargaining, Lyra's resolve began to crumble like the leaves beneath their feet. With a final, half-hearted grumble, she caved, extracting one last pinky promise from Max that she'd stay alert and stay safe. Lyra watched her sister disappear into the sea of costumes, the weight of worry settling in her chest. With a sigh that misted in the chilly night air, she reached into her jacket pocket, her fingers brushing against the crumpled edges of the orange flyer that had been burning a hole there all evening.

She unfolded it with trepidation, the bold letters announcing the party she dreaded. Unlike her brother, who seemed to thrive in the chaos of loud music and raucous laughter, Lyra found no joy in such gatherings. The very thought of the noise and the crowds made her skin crawl. But the image of Billy, with a drink in hand and his judgment clouded, forced a knot of anxiety to tighten in her throat. Their argument earlier that day replayed in her mind, the harsh words still echoing.

Despite their spat, her protective instincts wouldn't allow her to turn a blind eye. Especially not when she knew all too well the kind of trouble Billy could find—or cause—when alcohol loomed over him like a puppeteer. And if he didn't have her there to keep him in check, he'd either land himself in a situation they'd all regret, or worse, he'd come home to face their father's temper alone. The mere thought sent a wave of nausea through Lyra, her stomach plummeting. 

She knew what she had to do.

As the crowd mingled in the front yard of Tina's house, ranging from Cobra Kai to Madonna lookalikes—the rumble of a motorcycle engine cut through the chatter. Heads turned as Lyra made her grand entrance, the engine of her cherry-red motorcycle purring like a beast ready to pounce. She pulled off her helmet, releasing a cascade of dirty blonde waves that caught the moonlight just right, giving her an almost ethereal glow. As she kicked the stand down and swung her leg over the bike, the crowd's awe was palpable.

Whispers and murmurs spread like wildfire, and for a moment, it felt as if time had slowed down just for her. Lyra's confidence was magnetic, her presence commanding the attention of everyone around her. She tossed her helmet under her arm and strutted towards the party, her smile a mix of daring and delight.

The partygoer's eyes followed her every move as she walked past. As Lyra made her way through the front door, the chaos of the party hit her like a tidal wave. The house was teeming with teenagers whose inhibitions had been left at the doorstep. Raucous laughter and shouts filled the air, punctuated by the occasional pop of a beer can opening. She sidestepped a couple who were far too engrossed in each other to notice her, their lips locked in a fervent embrace against the living room wall.

Everywhere she looked, there were scenes of revelry and abandon: groups of friends clustered together, some dancing with abandon to the thumping bass that vibrated through the floorboards, others engaged in animated conversation that was mostly yelling to be heard over the music. The floor was a graveyard of empty beer cans and red solo cups, discarded without a second thought by hands eager for the next drink.

Lyra's eyes darted from face to face, searching for the familiar contours of Billy's features, but he was nowhere to be seen within the crowded rooms. The knot of worry in her chest pulled tighter with each passing second. Then, a commotion from the backyard caught her attention the unmistakable sound of a ruckus that Billy was so adept at causing. Deciding to momentarily ignore it, she walked over toward the kitchen island hoping to find a non-alcoholic drink.

Instead, she found a punch bowl that looked a little too intimidating for her taste. "Care for a drink?" A tall sandy-blonde guy in a football jersey asked, catching her off guard. She quickly shook her head, hoping he would get the message and move along. Upon noticing the helmet tucked under her arm, the sandy-blonde boy made the connection. "Shit, so you're the chick that owns the Yamaha FZR600 parked outside." Lyra nodded, surprised that her arrival had already become a topic of conversation in such a short amount of time.

With a confident smile, he introduced himself as James, clearly trying to make a good impression. "And what's your name, gorgeous?" He asked, stepping closer. "We've met before." She responded nonchalantly waiting for the jock to recall their encounter in the hallway. She watched as he quickly made the connection once more. "I remember you," He smirked, his tone dripping with flirtation. "It was pretty hot seeing you all fired up." She couldn't help but roll her eyes at his comment, not impressed by his choice of conversation.

However, James was completely oblivious to her lack of interest. "Over Byers, though?" He laughed, making Lyra clench her jaw in annoyance. "Shit, he's just as much of a freak as Munson," Lyra rolled her eyes. "Believe me, you don't want to be seen around them. They're not worth your time, gorgeous." She didn't have a chance to respond due to immediately spotting Billy stride across the room, a look of determination written all over his features. She saw her brother corner a brunette boy, their standoff radiating of testosterone.

"We've got ourselves a new Keg King, Harrington." She overheard one of the guys cheer tauntingly. "Suck it, King Steve." Another teased making a triumphant smirk appear on Billy's face. She could only guess that he was the 'King Steve' whom Billy had dethroned. Suddenly, Billy's eyes locked with Lyra's from across the crowded room, and a protective glint sparked in his gaze as he noticed James lingering nearby. Giving Steve, one final glare, Billy made his way over to his sister, not even acknowledging James with a word. "Beat it," He grumbled, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.

Lyra couldn't help but stifle a laugh as she watched the jock grab a nearby beer and saunter off, clearly intimidated by Billy's presence. The silence between Billy and Lyra felt heavy, as if they were both searching for the right words to say. Finally, Billy broke the silence, his eyes falling on the helmet in Lyra's grasp. "You brought the motorcycle?" He questioned, a mix of surprise and curiosity in his voice. 

Lyra shrugged nonchalantly. "Well, I wasn't gonna walk," She scoffed, reaching for a rogue water bottle on the counter. Billy couldn't help but comment on Lyra's attire, raising an eyebrow. "Dressed like that?" He deadpanned. Lyra's defenses immediately went up. "What the hell's that supposed to mean?" She scoffed, her tone defensive. Billy let out a frustrated sigh, a cigarette hanging from his lips. "No surprise that dirtbag was hittin' on you. You're lucky I saw you in time," He mumbled, his concern evident. Lyra's frustration grew.

"I've told you several times before, I can take care of myself," She retorted which made Billy scoff. Fed up with the tension, Lyra couldn't help but snap, growing tired of his attitude that was giving her whiplash. "You know what, screw you. Go back to doing whatever the hell you were doing before I got here." She growled, her frustration boiling over. But before she could storm off, Billy reached out, his hand circling her wrist. "Lyra, wait," He called out, his voice filled with a mix of regret. "Can we just forget about all this? Just have a reckless night for once?" He motioned vaguely between the two of them.

Lyra looked at him, her expression softening. "This?" She questioned, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "I only came to this stupid party because I didn't want you to get in trouble with Dad. Even if we fought, some part of me wanted to make sure you didn't do anything stupid. So, forgive me for looking out for you." She huffed in frustration and anger. Lyra felt the sting of tears threatening to spill, a mix of emotions swirling within her. 

She didn't know whether the tears were for the sun-soaked memories of California. Or whether they were born from the unfamiliar strain between her and Billy. A strain that had been absent in their lives until they found themselves in the strange, unsettling world of Hawkins. "Sunshine-" Lyra's heart clenched at the nickname, a vestige of a simpler time. She shook her head, trying to ignore the warmth that spread through her despite the coldness she wanted to project.

"You're forgiven," Her voice was barely above a whisper, betraying the turmoil inside her. "I—I just need some air." She didn't linger to catch the look of relief that flickered across Billy's face, nor did she stay to see it quickly replaced by the familiar shadow of remorse. She pushed through the door, stepping out into the night where the chill wrapped around her like a much-needed embrace.