#if he tries that shit with my new job in two weeks i will literally not be home by the time he calls

[dylawas-reblogs]

One thing I do look forward to about in-person work for the first time in four and a half years, even if it's 28 miles of travel both ways right during the worst winter months, is I can't be my father's free Chore Servant when he's too busy (read: disorganized and lazy) to sort things before he leaves for the day

[seasons-of-death]

bf!rafe x pogue!reader cooking

warnings: suggestive language, nsfw, fluff i literally got this idea when i was cooking and my delusional ass was like "hmm i wonder what it'd be like to cook with rafe..."

there are a lot of things that rafe cameron was good at; being a sneaky motherfucker, manipulating people to do as he wishes, and of course ...

but it only took you a few weeks to find out one thing that he hadn't mastered, and that was the art of cooking. to be fair, if your family had been as rich as him, you probably wouldn't either, the boy having grown on meals prepared by professional chefs, and before his mother's passing, hers.

meanwhile, you had known how to cook pretty much ever since you were old enough to reach the stove, cooking for yourself whenever your parents were working late, and eventually cooking for your siblings as well. your parents never told you that you needed to learn how to cook; you simply wanted to take some of the burden off their shoulders, knowing that your father worked two jobs while your mother worked as a cashier despite her back being damaged for as long as you could remember.

one time, about two weeks into your first date, rafe had tried to cook for you and... it didn't end well. almost every part of his dish, (except for the store-bought garlic bread) had burnt, and he apologized while he was ordering more dishes than you could even dream of eating to his family's home. eventually, the leftovers ended up at your house, feeding your family for a good few days.

it had only been a joke; you'd casually said "hey, what if i teach you how to cook?" but it seemed that rafe had taken it completely seriously. and if he was in, who were you to say no to that exciting look on the boy's face?

"rafe, if we're actually gonna get something done, you're gonna have to let go of me eventually." you chuckled, the boy's arms wrapped around your torso.

"i could just eat you for dinner..." he said, pressing tempting kisses on your neck while you were chopping up a bit of chili pepper to add into the recipe; rafe had sworn that he could handle the heat, but you were curious if that was really the case, or if he was just showing off as usual.

you turned around, pressing a quick, playful kiss on the boy's lips, "we'll see if you'll get to have me for dessert." you said, a grin on your lips as you continued cooking, and rafe swore that he was paying attention to your lesson, but you knew that the part he was the most excited about was the fact that he was able to manhandle you without you smacking his hand away, his hands already resting on your tits.

after about thirty minutes, the two of you were seated at the table, each of you trying the new pasta recipe you found. "shit, this is good..." rafe said, before taking a long chug of water, and you immediately knew what had caused it.

"babe, if you wanna relieve some of the spice, you're gonna have to drink milk or something. y'know, sometimes when i smoke up with my friends, we have chocolate milk on the side to help with the sore throat." you chuckle, watching as he rises to his feet and pours himself a glass of milk.

after a short moment, he returned to the table shaking his head, a wide grin on his lips as he pressed a kiss on your cheek. "you know, i'm definitely gonna need to have some of you for dessert."

[dilatorywriting]

Monster Mayhem: Lion's Pride [Part 3]

Gender Neutral Reader x Leona Kingscholar Word Count: 6.2k

Summary: Your new job as a Full Time Royal Therapist does not pay nearly as well as you'd like. Or, Leona is more of a problem child than he would ever admit, but you're surprisingly okay at dealing with that.

[PART 1][PART 2] [PART 3]

Sometimes you felt like you hardly knew what it meant to be a functional person, living a comfortable life on the fringes of society. So in comparison, trying to think of what it meant to be an actual prince, ruling over all of said society was something you literally could not comprehend no matter how hard you tried to wrap your head around it.  

“If you’re a Prince, what were you doing in a hole?” you asked, because you had far too many questions and concerns, and this one at least seemed easy enough to address. And also because you were genuinely pretty curious.  

The newly dubbed ‘Leona’ twitched against your back and you felt the low rumble of his snarl work its way from the depths of his gut all the way up through his chest and out his mouth.

“Holy shit,” Ace wheezed. “Screw this. I’m getting out of here before I wind up implicated as an accessory in your murder.”

And so your trusty friend abandoned you to the wolves lions?—darting away so quickly he always forget his bag, shoes, and everything else in the process.

You waved after him as he departed, knowing full well that he’d wind up stumbling back within the week, maybe two at most. He always did, no matter how much he complained about your Present Company. Plain old ‘murder’ was actually one of his more polite accusations. When he’d run into your Hunter friend the first time, Ace had gone on a wildly incoherent rant about how he was going to find your corpse strung up in a tree like some weird, ritual, sacrifice. And then that had devolved into something-something cannibalism or other. The visiting Hunter had just thrown his head back and laughed, positively enamored with the grisliness of it all. Ace had vanished for almost an entire month after that encounter, but he did come back—glaring up at you with a miserable pout like you were the one who’d gone and fucked off for thirty whole days.

Leona snorted and you felt the puff of breath against the back of your neck.

“Coward,” he grumbled, though he didn’t sound particularly displeased about your friend’s sudden departure.

“Fear lets us be brave,” you responded, wise as a sage. Or maybe an old frog in a puddle.

“Yeah?” he intoned, rolling his eyes. “And when’s that little rat ever been brave?”

“There’s always tomorrow,” you chirped, and that snort turned into something dangerously close to a chuckle. Which—gasp!—how dare such a pleasant sound fall from the lips of someone so obstinately determined to be otherwise! You grinned at the low tones of it, only for the snickering to cut off sharply in his throat once he’d realized what he was doing. And then of course he shoved you forward and out of his lap with a great amount of indignant snarling.

You laid there for a few minutes—face down in the sun-warmed grass and laughing quietly about just how ridiculous this stupid Lion was, before finally sitting up with a pleasant stretch. He could put on airs all he liked, you knew there was kernel of something far less angsty and murderous buried at the heart of him.

“So,” you hummed, lazily making your way back to your feet. “What exactly have I done to draw the realm’s Prince to my doorstep?” You squinted at him suspiciously. “You’re not here about the fairy gate thing, are you? Because that was actually an accident.”

“The what?” he frowned, brow pinched in confusion.

You waved him off. “Ah, nothing, nothing.”

Something in his jaw twitched, like now he was going to push the subject out of principle of you being shifty. But he just sighed and brought a hand up to pinch at the bridge of his nose.

“I need your help,” he said finally. Just as crabby as the first time he’d asked, if perhaps just a touch less imperious.

You arched a brow. “I think you’ve mentioned that already, yes.”

Silence.

The Lion stared you down with a slowly deepening scowl, and you stared back with a smile as placid and unmoved as the shallow pond you’d nearly drowned Ace in not an hour before.  

“If I apologize, you’ll help me?” he asked after a long moment, the question turning sharp at the end on a bitten of growl.

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” you hummed back and he crossed his arms stubbornly over his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he said, with all the pleasantry of someone undergoing a root canal. And all the sincerity of Ace swearing that this was the last time he’d get caught evading the tax man, promise.

You sighed, feeling a bit cheated. But you hadn’t really stipulated anything beyond those two little words leaving his mouth, so if anything, that was on you.

“Alright,” you huffed. “What is it you need help with?”

The Lion glared at you suspiciously for a long moment—glowing eyes narrowed into slits and tail twitching back and forth like he was swatting flies. Finally, he sighed and lifted his hands out in front of him with a pointed flex.  

“It’s not supposed to be like this,” he frowned sourly, wrists twisting to display the pointed claws tipping his fingers. “I’m not supposed to get stuck in between.”

Your eyes traced the fluffy tufts of his round ears, the black-tipped tail swishing irritably at his hind, and allowed yourself a melancholy sort of huff.

“But you look good like this,” you pointed out sadly. Because he really, truly, did. Leona without his squishy lion ears would just be… grumpy. Miserable, and angular, and angry. Nothing soft worth coddling at all.

“That’s not the point!” he snapped, baring his overlarge canines at you. There was a darker cast along his cheekbones that seemed to be making a valiant effort to crawl all the way up into his fringe. “And don’t fucking say that!”

You frowned. One second this stupid dick wanted to be praised to the Heavens and back! Practically swanning about, demanding you bow down and acknowledge his blatant superiority. But, oh no. Apparently your meager half-sentence masquerading as a compliment was too much for his delicate, princely, sensibilities.

“Fine,” you griped. “You’re ugly.”

He growled—low and rumbling—and if he was anymore of a cat you’d say you could see his hackles raising in indignation. But before he could launch into another vicious, verbal, evisceration of your person, you cleared your throat loudly in an attempt to get him back on track.   

“What do you mean by ‘stuck in between?’”

He sneered down at you testily for a moment before reaching up to pinch at the bridge of his nose again and letting out a put-upon sort of sigh that was not at all indicative of the fact that he was the one asking you for help.

“The Shift. When you found me in that pit, I should have been able to Shift between that form and this one without issue,” he frowned, brow tugging down tight with something a bit more disquieted than his usual, flat, annoyance. “The iron was a problem, but once I was out of the trap, it should have been fine. I’ve dealt with cursed snares like this before, and the effects have never lingered as long as this one has.”

You blinked owlishly. That did sound… fairly unpleasant. And honestly, if you were in his position you’d also be at least a little concerned that something else was at play. But, still, all that being said—

“I’m sorry,” you frowned, more or less genuine. Perhaps leaning a bit harder into less.“But I don’t understand how that has anything to do with me.”

“You were down there with me,” he argued. “You dismantled the trap.”

Uh, yeah. By messing with bits that looked breakable until they broke. Not exactly a high-level intellectual pursuit.

You didn’t say that, of course. Because after a few days watching you scuttle about your homestead like a particularly vocal lizard in the dirt, you were sure he already thought you were stupid enough without you outright admitting to it. Nevertheless, the Lion observed your zip-lipped silence with an ever-deepening scowl.

“You took it apart,” he tried again, nearly a growl.

“Yes,” you said with a nod.

“You know how you did it,” he continued, firm. At your lack of affirmative, he pushed again. “You know. I watched you do it!”

You raised your hand nervously and made a little so-so tilting motion.

Anyone less refined would no doubt have had their head in their hands at this point, but Leona just curled his lip at you and looked like he was fighting valiantly not to put your own very silly head through a wall.

“It was charmed,” he spat. “Bound up with talismans, and cursed down to its very moldings. That isn’t something any random farmer could walk up and break.”

“Oh,” you blinked, taken aback, and struggled to recall if there had been anything so obviously enchanted about the trap you’d fiddled into bits. “Was it?”

And head had officially met hands. He ground his clawed fingers into his temples like you were a headache that with enough determination and massaging he may somehow be able to will away.

“Couldn’t you go just home if this is such a big problem?” you asked, still genuinely baffled at it all. “Get help from your family? I mean, you’re a Prin—”

“No,” he interrupted, emerald eyes gone glacier cold.

You frowned, as unimpressed by his prickliness as you usually were. But something in you was hesitant to prod at whatever it was that had managed to tug a feral rage so tightly across his face—like drawing a shade over a window until the entire home was cloaked in shadow, or slipping away behind a carved mask too heavy to ever wear comfortably. It was an expression so sharp and so bitter that if you hadn’t only just yesterday watched this stubborn man lounge about in the sun as your chickens hopped all over him like he was the world’s most carnivorous jungle gym, you wouldn’t ever have known that they could be the same person at all. 

“Alright,” you shrugged, and some of that angry, hunched, defensiveness eased into confusion.

“Hah?” he frowned.

“Alright,” you said again. “We’ll figure it out here.” He glared over at you balefully, and you waved off the obvious retort on the tip of his tongue about something-something-you have no idea what you’re doing-something-something-dangerous risks and lifelong consequences-blablabla. “I have a friend who would know a lot more about those kinds of traps and talismans that I do. He could help, probably.”

“Probably?” he scoffed. Though when he rolled his eyes, they weren’t quite so hate filled—lids hooded with a familiar, begrudging sort of irritation rather than outright malice.

“He’s a bit of an enigma,” you explained—wiggling your fingers in a little, sparkly, dance to emphasize the, well, enigmatic part.

Another huff. But amidst that grumpy bellyaching, you watched those fluffy ears of his slowly perk back up atop his head, and his tail swish leisurely behind him. The Lion certainly didn’t look happy (but did he ever? So was that really a fair comparison?), but he definitely seemed like he’d thawed into something less ‘frigid dead of winter’ and more ‘unpleasantly nippy spring morning.’

“Weirder than you, herbivore?” he sniffed, looking down his nose at you and crossing his arms loosely over his chest. “I find that hard to believe.”

Normally you would too. But, well…

“He’s charming,” you chirped pleasantly, and Leona’s face twisted up like you’d served him a bowl of rancid yogurt.

.

.

That night you composed a letter to your dearest Hunter friend. You thanked him for bringing you the White Moor Stag, elaborated a bit on the new marinade you’d been experimenting with, and then ended the whole thing with a polite plea for his aid in deconstructing the mechanisms of a magical trap you’d encountered. You bribed one of your two carrier pigeons with some snacks and watched it fly off into the unknown with a little, cream-colored envelope tied to its foot. Message talismans were much simpler and far more convenient, but the Hunter always seemed to appreciate the personal touch of postal birds.

Leona glared at you from the window, and made some dramatic swipe at your pigeon like he meant to knock it out of the air. The poor bird tottered about like an overfilled water balloon—jiggling and wriggling in its roundness before eventually righting itself and continuing on into the sky with a warbled coo coo.

“Don’t be rude,” you huffed at him.

“I can’t believe you still won’t let me in,” he sneered from beneath the fluff of that blanket you’d gifted him. “I apologized.”

“Yes, but you actually have to mean it,” you explained, not unkindly, as he prowled just beyond the glass. “But we’re making progress!” you beamed. “That’s something! Maybe you’ll make it in here within the next five years, hmm?”

“Or I could just wipe out the entirety of your ridiculous dirt farm now,” he threatened, a bit of that sandy magic swirling sinisterly along his fingers.

“You certainly could, your highness,” you agreed easily. His lip curled unpleasantly, but that glowing, gritty, arcana faded away and he didn’t move from where he’d tucked himself up under the duvet.

After another solid fifteen minutes of his pissy glowering and barbed insults, you pointedly unclipped the ties on your curtains and let them fall shut so that his ridiculous pouting was hidden away behind the thin, cotton, mess of poorly stitched flowers and herbs.

(You did leave a nice dinner plate on the ledge before that, with extra portions of meat and a neatly frosted cookie for dessert. Because as much as your day had been a bit rough, you had a feeling his melancholy extended far beyond being left out in the dark for another evening.)

.

.

The next morning, your doddering pigeon returned with an elegantly bound scroll—all embellished with golden filagree and tied up in a neat, crimson, bow.

“Why does this freak call you ‘mon cher ami,’” Leona sniffed, tongue curling awkwardly over the unfamiliar words.

You sighed and debated snatching the letter back, but all that would probably culminate in was the paper in tatters and a smug beastman lording his superior letter-wrangling skills over your head like a trophy.

“It’s just one of his little ticks,” you explained with a shrug. “I told you—he’s charming.”

“Ah, yes,” Leona drawled, tracing a claw along the parchment’s edge with a soft shhhhhft. A raised, white, line cut across the paper’s surface like the beginnings of a wound. “Waxing poetic nonsense in a foreign language. Rambling on about all kinds of useless fucking garbage. Charming.”

“You,” you snipped, reaching out to smack at his tightening grip before he could rend the poor correspondence to bits, “are not one to talk about ‘charming.’”

“Oh?” he scoffed. He maneuvered around your tutting to hold the letter over your head. Typical. When you leaned forward to try and wrangle it back, Leona leaned in closer—eyes going hooded and lips curling into a smug little smirk that promised all sorts of trouble. “Haven’t had any complaints about that before. Who’d be saying otherwise?”

“The person you left stranded at the bottom of a pit, you inglorious oaf,” you griped. His ears immediately swiveled to pin flat against the top of his head, and you used the distraction of his indignation to finally snatch back your prize. “Besides,” you huffed, straightening out some of the new wrinkles. “Not very Prince-like, is it? A real prince would have swept in to save the idiot in distress. Sword drawn, banners flying,” you sighed, a bit too besotted with your own imaginings. “Why did you have to be such a dick, huh? Ruined my fantasies for the rest of my life.”

“And what?” Leona snapped. “Some rogue bastard sending you cursive garbage does it for you?”

“Better than being left for dead in a hole after saving their life,” you smiled—perfectly, poisonously, pleasant.

Leona rumbled something indiscernible under his breath and turned to glare petulantly off across your garden.

“Besides,” you hummed, looking over the letter. “There’s more important things. Like this—right here. Do you know what a self-bored stone is? He’s thinking maybe there was a process like that with the iron shackles. Or maybe something to do with seeping the components in herbs… Hmm…”

“Whatever,” Leona scoffed. “I’ll try whatever it takes to fix this shit.”

You clapped him amiably on the shoulder. “That’s the spirit, tête de noeud!”

“The fuck did you just call me?!”

“Poetic nonsense,” you chirped, and Leona looked half ready to drop you back into the hole where he’d found you.

.

.

The first attempt to aid the Lion Prince in his conundrum didn’t go particularly well.

You’d tried to work off of the whole ‘overlap with a self-bored stone’ theory, but all that really amounted to was you gesturing like an over-serious crossing guard for him to walk under every low hanging branch, every arch, beneath the stunted beams of the chicken coop. You dangled rocks from strings and waved around your little creations like slightly more dangerous pompoms.

Penelope clucked irritably when one of the pebbles fell with a plunk into her nest, and Leona frowned up at you from where the wayward chicken had firmly situated herself in his lap.

“How was any of that supposed to help?”

You drew a blank and promised to try something new tomorrow.

The next day you tried herbs. The Hunter had listed off quite a few that were known to cause lingering issues with magical creatures, and you harvested the lot of them from your garden with ease. You held them up to Leona’s face one by one, brow furrowed in concentration, as you waited for… something.

“How is this any better than the rocks?” he complained.

You pushed the bright, butter-yellow, blossoms of some Saint John’s Wort under his nose until he sneezed and shoved you away with a slew of indignant threats to your person.

The following few days were spent perusing your meager library. You carted every book you owned on magic, and binding rituals, and rune smithing out into the yard. Leona looked over at the slowly growing pile of tomes with a truly unimpressed scowl.

“You could have just invited me inside,” he griped, rolling his eyes. He was splayed out in the grass at your side, his head tossed lazily across your lap after he’d complained that he needed at least some leverage to see what you were trying to read.

“Nice try,” you hummed, reaching for your page of hastily scribbled notes. “But you’re not getting off without a genuine apology that easy.”

A week passed in this fashion, with you attempting to string together more and more ludicrous ideas—throwing everything you had at the wall and hoping something, anything, would stick. But Leona’s ears stayed tufted and round. That tail seemed to only grow more twitchy, his claws longer and sharper.

You sent the Hunter another letter and waited anxiously for a reply. When it arrived the next morning, Leona snatched it from your pigeon before you’d even made it out your front door. It was a miserable sort of day—pouring rain and with nothing but the grey cloud cover overhead to color the world.

He read it over once, twice, before dropping it to the ground. You could see the tendons twitching along his jaw, could practically hear his molars grinding in his frustration.

You plucked the note from the grass and looked it over carefully.  

‘Mon ami, while I am loathe to address this, perhaps it is not the make of this trap at all that is causing such a vexation? Is there any chance that rather than this being a lingering malady, that this friend of yours was simply unable to overcome the initial curse in the first place?’

You glanced back up at Leona, who was intermittently clenching his fists at his sides. You could see the harsh indentations from where his claws were digging into the skin of his palms.

‘Sometimes such things just happen, je crains. The flesh may be willing, but often the spirit is weak. You mentioned this Roi du Leon has a powerful family he may turn to for assistance. Certainly one of them may be strong enough to overcome this curse for him, even if he perhaps is not.’

“Of course it’s all because I’m a fuck up,” Leona snarled. Some of that spitting, sandy, magic of his seeped into the air. It bit at the rain like an overeager dog. You could see it dancing along his skin—fighting to pull his features one way or another.

“He didn’t say that,” you pointed out gently. “And even if you were, there’s nothing wrong with needing help sometimes. Your family—"

“—Would rather I keeled over dead and stopped sullying my brother’s perfect fucking reputation!” he snapped. “Heir to the King’s Roar,” he scoffed. “Stupid. I was never going to be a king to begin with. And even if I had been born first, they would have deposed me to put their flawless, favorite, golden boy on the throne anyways.”

That... That was a lot. You stared at the pacing Lion with wide eyes—unsure how to help, unsure if any attempts to do so would only make this worse. This was—this was so above your ‘happy, homey, hermit’ paygrade.

“Of course this is all because of me,” he hissed, that roiling, angry, arcana coiling around him like curdled milk. The pupils in his eyes flickered oddly from round to thin-cut, hard, lines. Beastly. “Of course it was because I wasn’t good enough.”

“Leona,” you tried, as gentle as you could be.

The Prince threw his head back and laughed. And laughed, and laughed.

“I should have known!” he cackled, borderline hysterical. “I should have fucking known!”

“Leona—” you tried again, reaching out a hand.

Only to be immediately knocked on your ass by an explosion of magic.

You’d heard of self-destruction—of implosion. The arcane wonders of the world were a wily and unyielding mistress. While creatures like Leona who were so naturally steeped in ancient magics and sorcery could control that beast more adeptly than some little mortal like you, it didn’t make them any less susceptible to its dangers. If anything, they had it worse. It was like sitting in a shallow stream versus wading out into a roaring ocean. So much more opportunity, such a higher aptitude for greatness, but far too easy to drown beneath the churning tides of it all.

The inky, geometric, swirls along his arms pulsed like a heartbeat. They crawled along his skin and traced black patterns into his veins. Even you could feel the horrible, dark, stickiness of it—as the magic ate him alive. His face twisted back and forth between human and animal, and you watched him contort and snarl under the weight of it before turning on you with a vicious roar.

Uh oh.

The first wave of magic seared the ground, leaving nothing but strange, grey, sand in its wake. The more he snapped and clawed wildly at anything and everything, the more that dusty desert spread. You managed to hop out of the way of most of it—sparing a single, sad, thought for all the poor plants you’d worked so hard to cultivate dying a miserable, grainy, death.

The next arc of magic shot straight from his clawed fingers, and it managed to catch the flesh of your forearm. It was sharper than any dagger or sword that you’d ever had the pleasure of accidentally nicking yourself with, and it tore its way down your arm like a raging beast, leaving an eerie, tacky, bubbling mess in its wake. And ouch did it hurt—like someone was taking a fistful of coarse sand and rubbing it into the open wound. You ground your teeth against the strange, gnawing, sensation and hastily wrapped a bit of torn fabric around the weeping gash to keep it a bit more contained. You waited for the worst of it to pass, for that initial bite to fade into a more manageable throb. But it didn’t. It just got sharper and tighter, hotter and hotter. For a moment it felt like your skin was crackling—like firewood popping and splitting beneath the weight of a blaze. From across the field, Leona made a noise like a hurricane given voice, and you bit back a groan.

‘Oh come on,’ you hissed to yourself. ‘Not now, please.’  

And while you’d been mostly referring to the Lion losing another brick of his sanity fort, your wound seemed to pulse at the command—a sensation not unlike the soft drone of the wards carved deep into the support beams of your dilapidated home, and an impression of words tingling along your nerves without any real shape or form. ‘Alright. Later then.’ Like a breath of wind along your fingertips. That pulsing doubled back, and the wrap you’d hurriedly tied around your forearm hummed low with gentle arcana.   

And then the cracking stopped. Just like that. Like it’d given up on eating you alive and decided to head home early for the day.

Huh, you though a bit dazedly, before hurriedly ducking out of the way of another swipe.

You clutched your still smarting but at least now functional arm to your chest, and Leona turned on you and your ethereal booboo with a raging snarl. But then that glowing glare caught on the blood trailing down towards your wrist in too dark, too thick, rivulets and his eyes went wide. It wasn’t much, but the strange bought of shock rocketing through him gave you a handful of seconds of ceasefire. You reached into your pocket with your uninjured hand and pulled out a thick bit of cardstock. This was supposed to be for emergencies, goddamn it! And you’d spent so much money on this stupid little thing! And—

You shook off the mildly delusional complaints bogging down your brain and unfolded the paper between your fingers. The sigils inked into it hummed against your skin, and the rain sluffed off its face like the cold and the damp were no bother at all.

“Fucking—” you flung the talisman at your ridiculous, rampaging, guest. It fluttered like the beat of a hawk’s wings and dove towards him with just as much vicious precision. “GO TO SLEEP!”

The enchantment smacked into his face with an echoing THUNK and you watched those too-bright eyes of his roll up into his head as he collapsed to the ground in a heap.

With the main source of all the Magical Warfare knocked unconscious, most of the miasma began to disperse—like dust caught up in a gale. The rain washed away the rest. It slid into the mud and seeped back into the earth. The plants and animals seemed to give a collective sigh, and some of your more courageous chickens even started to venture in close to peck at the leftover destruction.

You approached the felled Prince hesitantly. The talisman had been meant for subduing an enemy with a more human constitution, so you doubted it would keep him down for very long.

“Hey,” you grouched, poking his side. He twitched a bit but didn’t move otherwise. “Hey, asshole,” you tried again. Still, nothing. Uh oh.

You reached down to wedge an arm under him and hoist him upright. The singed skin of your forearm brushed along his jaw as you attempted to maneuver his bulk, and his nose twitched sharply at whatever scent was trapped in the dark, cracking, gash there. His brow scrunched up like you’d just doused him in spoiled milk, so naturally you went about waving your wounded flesh beneath his nostrils like the world’s strangest smelling salts.

After a moment he blinked back awake, face twisted up into the most properly disgruntled mien of distaste that you’d ever seen on a person who’d only just barely managed to claw their way back into the world of the living.

“Herbivore,” he rumbled, still looking more than a bit dazed.

Good enough.

You manhandled him back onto his feet as best you could—turning yourself into an impromptu crutch to try and get him mobile again. The sand shifted and sank beneath your heels, making dragging his ridiculous, dramatic, ass even more of a challenge. As you hauled him towards your cottage, you complained to him in earnest. Every little irritation under the sun. Half because you’d probably never have another opportunity to bitch at him so thoroughly without getting your own earful of grievances in return, half to keep him conscious—keep him focused on staying here. With you. And not… Wherever it was he’d gone in those moments of delirium.  

“I still don’t get why you call me that,” you griped, readjusting your grip on him when he’d started to slide down to the point his nose had buried itself against your collarbone. “Herbivore. I’ve cooked so much meat for you since you decided to crash here. Talked about how I prepare it, and the flavors I experiment with—I literally gave you some from my own sandwich when we first met! That I ate the rest of! In front of you!—”

When you finally herded him over the threshold and into your little cottage, the wards and their protection slipped around him like the soft current of a stream. You hardly even noticed the way the old magics ruffled his hair—and that was only because you were actively looking, half convinced the house was still about to toss up an invisible barrier and send him sprawling back into the dirt.

Leona wobbled on his feet, and his eyes were still too far away and grey.

You grabbed him by the ear and maneuvered his too-tall self into one of your rickety kitchen chairs. The wood groaned under the sudden press of his dead weight, but it didn’t collapse beneath him so it wasn’t worth fussing over. Once you were certain he wasn’t about to fold over sideways and crumple to the ground (or at least, that he was angled enough over a rug that he wasn’t going to crack his head on the stone floor), you rushed off to your bookcases and shelves and began hurriedly rumaging through your collection of nonsense.

The charms, the charms. Where were your emergency charms?! You’d thought you left them right there on the—Ah! There we go.

You pulled the raggedy binder from its place on the shelf, blew away the coating of dust that had settled over the top of it, and returned to your patient.

You flipped open the worn leather hooks and began sorting through the dozens upon dozens of sheets of enchanted parchment within. They were unimpressive—just small, rectangular, bits of faded paper inlaid with the softest kinds of magic. Not meant for much more than coaxing warmth into chilly limbs or placing a soft kiss over a scraped knee. But medicines were medicines—whether arcane in origin or otherwise. If you—if you just doused him in the things, that would probably work. Right? Of course it would. That made perfect sense.

So you slapped the first talisman square in the middle of his forehead. Leona swayed at the wet SMACK of the paper gluing itself to his soaked-through skin, but aside from the faintest, startled, widening of his eyes, he didn’t do anything else to complain. So you stuck the next charm to his cheek, and then another on the opposite one too.

“Magic overuse is dangerous,” you chastised as you went about layering a veritable novel’s worth of pasty, paper, enchantments up his arms. The soft spells worked their way into his skin, and you watched those twisting, black, shapes skitter back up towards where they’d once sat peacefully curled around his bicep. “Are you trying to kill yourself, hah?!”

Instead of snapping back at you like normal, he just sort of… sat there. Accepting your angry accusations in frosty silence. He absolutely looked like a cat that you’d fished out of a bag in the river. Pathetic, and sad, and droopy. And… quiet. So, very, quiet. You frowned, because as much as you didn’t particularly enjoy being insulted every minute of the day, the Lion’s biting little remarks had become… familiar, at the very least. Even if they weren’t entirely pleasant. Even if he was far from pleasant.

The dampness on his skin was starting to curl the edges of your talismans, and you reached forward with a huff to at least pull the freezing, soaked-through, vest off his shoulders. The leather jacket landed with a wet plap on the stone floor, a cold puddle already pooling around all its stupidly intricate, embroidered, edges. Something fluttered out of one of the open pockets—small, and off white, and crinkled. You stepped over the whole mess to retrieve a pile of towels and didn’t give it a second thought.

“Make a mess of my home, why don’t you,” you complained, dropping one of the towels over the entirety of his head before reaching forward to start drying him off with perhaps a bit more force than necessary. “Drip all over the floors I just mopped, why don’t you. Be emotionally constipated and almost turn my whole yard into a sand pit, why don’t you—”

A hand reached out to snag your wrist, and you let him pull you away from your attempts to rub all that stupidly thick hair straight off his head.

From beneath the curtain of the cotton towel, you could see Leona glaring at the long, dark, scratch curling along your forearm. It certainly wasn’t… nice to look at. The gymnastics of getting him into your cottage had managed to displace the impromptu bandage, so the whole of it was just there. Bruised, and dark, and odd looking. But ugly or not, it was hardly bleeding or anything anymore! And he was the one who had almost just self-destructed in your front yard!

‘Think of the accusations!’ you wanted to wail. ‘Can you imagine the garbage I would have to deal with if I wound up with a dead royal fertilizing my garden?! No thank you!’

But before you could complain about his fussing, his claws flexed against the soft skin of your palm and you saw the muscles along his forearm tense—like he was fighting to keep still.

“You should be dead,” he muttered, terse.

You huffed. “Look, I know you think humans are all sorts of pathetic, but I’m not that—”

“You should be dead,” he repeated, sounding as if the words had to tear their way out of his throat—scraping like shards of glass all the way up.

You stared at his dark eyes and dripping bangs—the shadows playing across his cheeks and the strange, hollow, wrongness that had settled over all of him. With a heavy sigh you plopped yourself down into the chair across from his and dragged a handful of the leftover charms your way. Pointedly, you took one and slapped it over the wound. And then another.  

“See?” you said, flexing your wrist in his grip to put the creeping, black, cut on display. The talismans glowed softly against your skin and the lingering whisps of darkness licking at the the injury began to fade. “All better. Not something a dead person would say at all.”

Leona frowned, but at least it looked a bit more annoyed than outright bleak. And besides, frowns were better than whatever that stoic, expressionless, numbness had been.

“Though I appreciate your concern,” you grinned, pointedly sharp and prodding. Like a toddler standing by with a stick, hoping to poke out a reaction. “Truly, whatever would I do without the Great Lord Lion there to fret over me?”

But instead of the acidic ‘I wasn’t fucking worried,’ that you were expecting, or even a more muted grumble of dissent, Leona’s brow just pinched in displeasure and your awkward attempts at teasing faded into terse silence.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, almost too quiet to hear—his head low and eyes lower.

You sighed and twisted your wrist around to pat at his hand. There was the faintest tremor in his fingers and you tangled your own between them to give him something to squeeze, something to hide the shiver of lingering malaise that he would no doubt deny with his dying breath. You observed the stern, tight, expression warping his otherwise handsome face—the miserable, puckered, angle of his mouth and the way the emerald of his eyes was cut through with a shadow of genuine remorse. You reached out with your other hand to pet at his soft, round ears. They squished flat beneath your palm and your lips twitched up into a fond, little smile. Leona tipped his chin just enough to glower at you from beneath his bangs with no real heat, and you sighed and gave him one more pat for good measure.

“You’re forgiven.”

.

.

.

TAG LIST [CLOSED]

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[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

I am fucking WEAK for the Anselem-Reader-Blue throuple, I’ve never even seen either movies (just clips) but I am so obsessed that they’re just addicted to each other and Blue is the subbiest sub to ever sub and they’re not letting him out of their sight ugh I want him to just abandon it all and stay in their mansion as their free use little baby boy

Hzshdasudihasiodu ahhhh! Thank you so much, you have made my day!

Also: HELL YES. Here are some:

Trine Headcanons

Anselm Volgelweide x F!Reader x Blue Jones • Rating: 18+ pals • Masterlist • ao3 • want to be tagged? | requestinfo • ko-fi •

Warnings: Blue being a little shit, mentions of bjs, over use of italics, typos, not beta read, railroad sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 524

Blue spends more and more (and more) time with Anselm and you, literally he’s practically moved it. (And put his stuff everywhere.) 

He is terrible with boundaries, something’s in the house? Oh, that’s his. Food in the fridge? Must be his too. Clothing in the wardrobe, not in his size, with a post stick note on it that says ‘This is not Blue’s’? That must be a typo, because he’s taking it to the tailor. And it’s his now as well. 

You resort to a water spray bottle, and spray him whenever he’s getting too excitable with all the new things he’s ‘found’. 

He’s a cat in human form. 

Takes to wearing a silk robe that is a fraction too short for most polite company (good thing you and Anselm are nowhere near polite) and flouncing around the mansion being a nuisance to your staff and begging for (demanding) attention from both you and Anselm every chance he gets.

Wakes up one morning and realises he hasn’t been to the club in over two weeks. Panics. And then calms down when you play with his hair while Anselm deep throats him, and tell him that you’d sent a stand in manager to keep an eye on things for him ages ago. 

Blue never worries about the club again. 

You take him on holiday with you both and he acts like a spoilt brat the whole time, making an absolute fuss of everything when he’s with Anselm - so Anselm will punish him. And being the sweetest little angel for you - so you’ll call him a good boy and let him sit on your lap during dinner. 

Always ends up sleeping between you both, even if you all fall asleep with someone else in the middle. It’s not an intentional thing, and none of you are quite sure how it happens like clockwork and without waking anyone up. Anselm calls it one of Blue’s many party tricks.

Blue gets very self conscious and moody when someone else makes the assumption that he is either Anselm’s or your piece on the side. “Not both?” The outrage is so strong.

He has a reputation for being even more dangerous now that he has the Vogelweide backing, and because Anselm hired a guard for Blue whose only job is to shoot people Blue tells him to shoot. (He doesn’t like getting his hands dirty.) 

When Anselm is in his office taking meetings and you’re hanging out on the chaise lounge to the side Blue likes to sit on the floor next to you. 

Both you and Anselm have tried to convince him to let you get either a bigger chaise lounge or any other seat for him, but he refuses. Preferring to recline, rather dramatically, on the floor with his head tilted back and resting against the chaise lounge seat cushions so you can play with his hair and stroke his face.

Quite often hugs your leg and kisses your knees if they are within reach. 

Has sucked off Anselm under his desk while he’s in the middle of a meeting more than once - and isn’t subtle about it. 

Thank you for reading!

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[mins-fins]

★̲ YOU HAVE ONE NEW VOICEMAIL FROM . . . 나재민 !

SEPTEMBER 9, 00:22 AM

HI BABY!! okay um before you purge me and murder my entire family i'm sorry for not calling you yesterday.. it was after the first show and i was exhausted but anyway, how was the concert? did you enjoy it? do you think i did well? do you—[a small shout is heard from behind him] I AM NOT "WHIPPED" SHUT UP! ignore chenle he doesn't know what he's talking about, is it bad that i love my dear partner so much? he's just sad and lonely—AM NOT!— ARE TOO! STOP YELLING AT ME!! you're gonna come tomorrow right? if work doesn't keep you in that is, god i hate your job, and i miss you, i miss you so bad, it's going to be hard to do this when international tour dates start, all we have connecting us is some stupid phone..[another shout is heard from behind him] OKAY FINE! it's too late, we have to wake up early tomorrow, alright bye i love you! sleep well!

NOVEMBER 23, 22:45 PM

haechan totally tried to trip me on stage today, that little shit..anyway, hi baby!! sorry for the like— two calls every week but it's been so hard to find alone time for myself these days, i really like japan though, we should come here sometime for a trip! just me and you, maybe on one of my breaks, if i can even get one. i miss you, having jeno as company is beginning to get boring, i mean, i love jeno obviously but i see him every single day!! i'm literally about to go insane without you here, i'm about to pay for your flight here and make up some excuse to your manager about a family issue or something.. will they even believe that? i don't care, it's been a while since we went anywhere together, just the two of us, also, did i tell you your mom called me? apparently she really liked our performance, she called me to tell me about it!! anyway um, i have no time left, hope you have a good night, i love you!!

NOVEMBER 26, 02:09 AM

jeno snores way too loudly, so no sleep for me, and he also complains so much about everything so now i have to whisper for this, but anyway, i know you're probably asleep as well so it doesn't matter if i send this cause you'll see it in the morning but i don't care! whoops, right, whispering. i can't believe that you can't come to the shows, it's all sooooo boring without you. i always search for you in the audience but then i don't see you and i get upset, you being in the crowd would make everything much better, hopefully you can at find time to get here before the final japanese show this year.. is this corny? i don't think so, i just— i miss you, i say that all the time but i do, a lot. um yeah that's all, i should probably sleep now, i love you!

DECEMBER 2, 21:37 PM

I KNEW YOU HAD SOME STUPID PLAN! i can't believe i didn't even notice you sneaking up on me that was….. i can't start, i'll go on and on forever. how did you even get backstage? did you talk to mark or something? i don't know i guess i'm just— i'm just very surprised, you didn't even tell me anything! i'm not going to lie.. it was such a smart plan, i'm glad you were able to make it, seeing you again was so nice i almost cried having to let go of you, and yeah i tried to contain myself in front of the members but i couldn't, they had to get it though! because when you're partner is right there you can't just stand there and be normal, i did mean to trap you in that hug! god being able to wrap my arms around you again was so nice, you give such good hugs you know? i know you won't be here for long but let's make the most of our time together okay? i'm happy you're here, alright i have to go now, good night, i love you.

DECEMBER 10, 09:30 AM

hi hi!! happy to say that i will be back soon! don't be surprised if i just randomly show up in your house one day, world famous idol na jaemin in your kitchen, making himself some coffee, you might have a heart attack, i hope i don't scare you again, not like that one time after hot sauce promotions ended.. your face was hilarious, i'm sorry for that one baby, i was really just trying to surprise you.. anyway, tour picks back up in february, so we have time to be idiots and go on stupid dates, get chased down by the staff.. okay maybe not that, the last time they almost caught us was funny though. alright um— just wanted to tell you i'll be back soon! i'll make sure to pass by a convenience store and get you ice cream, and yes i'll remember to get cookie dough this time, still not sure what you have against strawberry..alright that's it! i'll see you soon, i love you!!

[kirikeijii]

𝐂𝐨-𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬

Movie star ! Toge Inumaki x Movie star ! Reader SMAU

Chapter 1 - Trending Hangout Sesh

Prolouge - Auditions Prev← → Chapter 2 - The First Week on Set

Synopsis: You saw a job offer for a new upcoming movie —Jujutsu Kaisen 0— starring some of the most famous actors: Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Yuta Okkutsu, and Maki Zenin. The requirement for the character's personality was a match made in heaven. The character was perky, smiley, talkative, in short, a ball of energy. In contrast to your character: a quiet and observant role was played by Toge Inumaki, your character's love interest. To get the chemistry on screen you had to spend time with him. Despite his character personality, he was the complete opposite on set. The world watches the two of you do interviews and vlogs about the upcoming movie. The world watches you fall in love with each other without even knowing yourselves. At some point, the world knows how whipped you are for each other except for the two of you.

Inumaki, Toge: 2:29pm

Kugisaki, Name 2:53pm

Inumaki, Toge 2:55pm

Kugisaki, Name and Inumaki, Toge 6:50pm.

You sat at the top of the stairs, the foot that only had a sock on laid on top of your other leg. 10 minutes later you heard steps up the stairs and then you were met with the white-haired boy. "Took you long enough."

"I'm sorry, I had to climb up 4 flights of stairs." He narrowed his eyes making you laugh. "C'mon, give me your foot." He kneeled.

"No- I can do it." you tried taking the shoe from him. "It's fine, c'mon." You hopped on one foot, hands on the railing as he slipped your shoe on. You felt yourself smiling and secretly taking a picture immediately posting it, head in the clouds. You quickly caught on to what you were doing.

Trying to cancel the post, you accidentally pressed the post button unknowingly. "Done! C'mon, I'll show you my brainrot collection." He smiled evilly making you giggle. "That's not true, right?" You asked him walking into the elevator. You grew concerned when he didn't answer. "Toge? It's not true, right?"

30 minutes later you arrived at his apartment and to your surprise he was neat and clean with it. "Wow, I didn't think your apartment was this clean." You looked around. He had games, trophies, anime figures, and his merch displayed. "Why, because I'm a boy?" He peaked through the entrance door. You thought for a bit then agreed to what he said. "Fair enough." He shrugged.

"So, what'd you wanna do?" You ask him. "We could order food, we could get to know each other and study our lines." He smiled at you while pouring a glass of water in the small open-concept kitchen. "Y-yeah, I'd like that." You smiled back before cringing at your stuttering.

Your talk with him went on for 30 more minutes when he started to get tons of notifications. "Sorry, I just need to check this." His mouth formed a thin line while he looked at his phone, you could see his eyebrows furrow. "What's wrong?" You asked him. His mouth was still a thin line, and he showed you his phone. Your face went pale with what you saw.

"I can explain." You gulped. "Okay, so when you tied my shoes, I thought you looked really cute, and my hand acted on its own taking the picture and almost posting it. But then I went back to reality and I thought I drafted the post because I didn't look at it after. So. . . I'm very sorry, I'll explain everything to your mana. . ger? Are you okay. . ?" You rambled making your eyebrows furrow.

"Yeah, yeah, it's fine. Be careful next time?" He smiled at you softly. You immediately nodded at his response. "Anyway, I need to go to the bathroom. Nature's calling." He whispered the last part. "Toge, ew. I'm literally eating." You scoffed in disgust. "Mmm, I'm gonna shit so hard-"

"Please, stop?!" after that, it's just random gibberish about how he's gonna use the bathroom and you telling him to stop. Okay, he wasn't actually going to shit. He just wanted to fanboy about the fact that you called him cute while looking through the thread of your Twitter.

ᯓ★You actually pressed draft but then you butt-posted the whole thing. Haha, suffer.

ᯓ★Your PR manager messaged you 76 times over the past hour about the post.

ᯓ★Inumaki told Yuuta about what you did and Yuuta is kicking his feet for Inumaki.

ᯓ★You spent the night at Inumaki's and left at 3am so no paparazzi came at you with questions.

ᯓ★Thank you for reading<3 | Masterlist

ᯓ★Tags: @sophiasrant @dazqa @anqelkoz @walllflowerrrsss

[heavyhitterheaux]

Meet Me Halfway

AN: Whewww buckle up!

Synopsis: He's a hopeless romantic, but you can't for the life of you understand why he won't commit. He's attached to you and doesn't want to be around anyone else. Doubts start to creep into your mind and now you're left feeling like you aren't good enough.

Pairing: Jack Harlow x Reader

Requested by: @kentuckyboyharlow 🥰

Jack Harlow Masterlist

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

“That’s my good girl, you better take this shit and act like you want it.” Jack said while hovering above you while you were in the midst of getting your back blown out by him for the sixth time this week.

All it took was a few new outfits from Givenchy and three pairs of Louboutins to have you at his mercy.

But this was the usual thing.

You definitely didn’t need him, there was no doubt in your mind surrounding that.

But you wanted him.

You were successful in your own right having graduated from the top of your class at Harvard and following in your parents footsteps of being a business owner. You had always had an eye for fashion, so that was your go to. High end boutiques that you owned which could only be found in Paris, London, New York, Tampa, Las Vegas, Los Angeles, and Atlanta. 

The two of you met when he had ventured into one of your boutiques when you had happened to be there and he was infatuated by you from the first glance. 

And everyone was able to tell. 

This entire friends with benefits situation had been going on for a year and a half, and as much as you didn’t want to admit it, it was now starting to bother you.

Bottom line is that you knew that you deserved better, but you wanted for the better to come from him.

As far fetched as that idea was. 

Jack would tell you all the time how he longed to be in a relationship with someone that would see him for the person that he was and not just what his job entailed.

Well, that was you.

He would admit that you were one of the few people who still treated him like a person and separated him from what his job description entailed. 

He would go to you about everything and sometimes more often than not, you would know things before even his best friend Urban did.

Jack would always tell you how much he trusted you and how much he valued having you in his life, however it didn’t quite feel like it sometimes.

Being that you signed an NDA, there really was no one that you could talk to about your relationship issues and didn’t want the risk of you accidentally letting his name slip from your lips when you were addressing the topic. 

So, you suffered in silence.

But, you honestly didn’t know how much longer you could take. 

Jack literally did everything for you that a boyfriend would do in a relationship, there just wasn’t a title to go along with it. 

As you were both coming down from your high, Jack took the opportunity to pepper kisses all along your skin, before finally reaching your face and kissing the side of your mouth before pressing his lips to yours. 

He slowly slipped out of you making you wince before laying down next to you on his back and pulling you on top of him.

Jack noticed that you had been unusually quiet for the past three days.

He bought the gifts in hope that it would put you in a better mood, but truth be told nothing had changed.

That’s when the thought of him losing you crept into his mind no matter how much he tried to block it out.

You meant a lot to him and when an opportunity arose for him to tell you, he took it.

He loved you and was in love with you but probably would never say it to your face. He was scared that he would either run you off or mess up a good thing and that was honestly the last thing that he wanted to do.

You were his safe place and his safe haven. 

“Babe, why are you so quiet? Did something happen? You haven’t been yourself for these past few days.”

“I’m fine, I promise.” You answered, not bothering to pick your head up from his chest to look at him and you knew that he was going to continue to push until he got an answer that he was satisfied with.

“You know better than to lie to me. You can tell me anything. I want to help you fix what’s wrong if I can.”

Oh, he definitely could,alright, if he would just admit his feelings and stop being scared all the time.

That was the only reason that you could think of as to why he hasn’t said anything to you yet.

“Can we just drop it? It’s not something that I want to think about right now. You asked me to come see you and I did and that’s all I want to focus on before I have to fly back home.”

“We can drop it for now, but before you leave I want an answer.”

“It’s nothing, just work things.”

“That’s bullshit and you know by now that I can see right through you.”

“Jackman….”

“Damn, we on government basis now?” Jack asked as he looked down at you and the two of you finally made eye contact.

You were quiet and simply looked at him. 

When he didn’t get an answer from you all he did was sigh before kissing the top of your head.

“Fine, I’ll let it go for now. Maybe it’ll take your mind off things when we go to see my parents and Clay later.”

“I thought you said that we weren’t leaving this bed when I got here?”

“Well more or less. We’ve been going at it for six days anyway, one night away won’t hurt. And they miss you anyway. I told them that you were coming and they got excited.”

This obviously wasn’t the first time that you had met Jack’s parents. You actually knew them really well. He always introduced you as his friend when meeting someone new and every time Maggie saw you she would ask if her oldest had asked for you to be his girlfriend yet.

Because she honestly didn’t know what the hold up was either.

She would always tell you the way that Jack talked about you and how he would literally light up and get excited. He didn’t do that with anyone else.

Not to mention that when the two of you met, he literally cut off everyone that to him would be seen as a distraction and would take his attention off of you.

You were the shiny new toy that he was infatuated by and as many times as you wanted to walk away from the situation, he kept reeling you back in. 

“So, what do you think of the house?” Jack asked you quickly changing the subject before you had an opportunity to say no.

You had been the first person that he confided in about wanting to buy a house and he wanted for you to go house hunting with him in Louisville, however, your schedule just didn’t allow it. But you promised him you would come and see it as soon as you could.

When he made the purchase, he immediately flew you out to see it, hence, why you were there now.

He still had some decorating to do for him to get it exactly how he wanted it, but the basics were there.

You were the first person to step foot in it besides him and the realtor and you admit that you loved that he confided in you so much because he valued your opinion on different things.

“I like it, it suits you.”

“I got an extra key made for you too.” Jack said while reaching over to the bedside table to grab it and then placing it in your hands.

“Jack…”

“No, I want you to have it. You’re my person and if at any time you need me, you know that I’ll be here and there’s no need to hesitate. I’m always going to be here for you no matter what. If you want to hop on a plane in the middle of the night to come see me, then you can. You keep me grounded and the last thing that I would ever want to do is lose you.”

“Okay.” You said as you reached over to put it to the side of you making a mental note to put it on your keys later.

“Can I be real with you for a minute?” Jack asked you and you simply nodded your head.

“Of course you can, I’m never going to tell you no.”

And truth be told that’s what your problem was, never being able to tell him no.

“I just think about how I can’t wait to settle down and have kids. I highly doubt that I’m going to meet my wife in a club somewhere, but you never know I guess. I want for them to want for nothing and that’s why I work so hard now.”

Luckily you weren’t facing Jack as he told you this because you immediately rolled your eyes.

He always did this shit and made you feel as if you were just a placeholder even if that wasn't his intention. Keeping his wife’s spot warm for when he actually did meet her and then what? He would probably kick you to the curb and would probably have to give him the house key back.

When that happened, you planned on cutting him off for good.

And you weren’t going to run back to him no matter how hard that it might end up being.

Because how in the world would you be able to compete with somebody’s wife?

“I don’t know if that’s what I want in life or if that’s the type of life for me.” You quietly answered and Jack did a double take.

Honestly, you wanted for it to be with him, but the thought of that went out the window a long time ago. 

What Jack wouldn’t admit to your face is that the only person he saw that future with was you.

“Since when? From the moment we met you said that you always wanted a family.”

“Well things can change.” You replied while shrugging. 

“Any man would be lucky to have you and he wouldn’t want for nothing because of how amazing of a person you are. Anyone is able to see that. Especially me."

“I.. just don’t know if I’m cut out to be someone’s wife.”

“You’re definitely more than capable. Just look at the way you take care and do things for me.”

You so badly wanted at that moment to get up and walk out the door and never speak to him again, but of course it wasn’t that easy.

You were too far in and down bad and you knew it. 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Jack placed another kiss to your temple and this time you couldn't help but to smile.

“Now let me eat you out before we have to get ready.”

It was now around 8 PM and Maggie had cornered you with a glass of red wine for you to update her about everything that had been going on in your life in the backyard since she ordered out for dinner not having the energy to cook anything.

I guess it was fair seeing as the last time you saw her was a month ago.

You truly adored his parents and looked up to them as they were yours right along with Clay.

“Okay miss lady, spill it!” Maggie said while sitting next to you and handing you the wine.

“Nothing is really going on!” You said while laughing and taking a small sip.

“Nothing? Nothing at all? Including with my oldest child?” 

“Definitely nothing there. We’re friends, that’s all.”

“But the way that he looks at you tells me otherwise. I know that look because that is how Brian looks at me.”

“Mama Maggie….”

“What?! I’m just saying! I know what love looks like when I see it and I definitely see it between the two of you no matter how much either of you wants to deny it, Mama knows best.”

“I’m not saying that you’re wrong but….”

“But what?”

“I just don’t think I’m the perfect fit for him.”

“And that is utter bullshit, excuse my French. You two fit together like two puzzle pieces and not the ones that you have to force together.”

“We’re friends and the last thing I want to do is ruin that.”

“But my question is, what if you don’t ruin it and it turns into something more? Then what? You’re never going to know unless you try.”

Just then Jack made his way over to the two of you and Maggie simply eyed him.

“You two were just talking about me, weren’t you?” He asked while looking between both of you.

“Oh, just telling Y/N how I’m waiting for you to ask her on a proper date. Nothing more or nothing less.”

“MOM!” Jack exclaimed while turning beet red and all you could do was stifle a laugh.

“What? What’d I say? You obviously want me to be honest with you right?”

“I… I should have never asked. Anyway, Y/N, you ready?”

“But we’re only one glass in, don’t tell me you’re stealing her from me already.”

“She has an early flight mom, so yes I am stealing her from you.”

“Fine, Y/N, just remember what I told you and don’t take so long to come back and see me.”

“I promise I won’t.”

The two of you simply rode in silence back to his house and once there, you immediately went upstairs to begin packing.

“Hey, you okay? I seriously want you to tell me what’s wrong. I didn’t forget.” Jack asked while coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around you and placing a kiss on your cheek.

"I promise I'm okay. I just don't want you to worry about me.'

"But I always worry about you. Can't help it. If it was left up to me, you would be around me all the time."

"I know I would." You said while laughing and Jack turned you around so that you were now facing him.

He was simply looking at you with that famous smile of his and you could feel your face starting to get hot.

"Oh my gosh, stop!"

"Stop what? I didn't even do anything!"

"You're staring at me!'

"Well I can't help it if my girl is extremely gorgeous." Jack said while leaning down to kiss you and you eagerly kissed him back.

"Can't you stay for one more day?' He quietly asked and you immediately sighed.

"You know I can't."

"Yes you can, you're the CEO and can do whatever you want."

"You had me for a week already."

"And truth be told I need another one. Come on babe, please." Jack said while trying to subtly reach behind you in order to close your suitcase to put it back in his closet.

"But…"

"I haven't seen you for an entire month. Everyone was suffering just ask Urb."

"Fine, one more day."

"Good, because I already went in your phone and changed your flight so this would have been real awkward if you had said no."

"Jack!"

"What!? I missed you."

"I missed you too."

"See if you moved down here, I could see you every day and not have to miss you so much all the time."

"Now, Jackman.."

"Hey, it was just a thought!" 

Even though you promised Jack to stay another day, you still packed the majority of your things away so that it would be easier to get ready to leave and hopefully be at the airport on time. Jack had helped you finish and the two of you began to have a movie marathon before you fell asleep. 

Jack was still wide awake and peering down at you while you were asleep on his chest.

His thoughts were running rampant and he knew that you deserved better than this.

But truth be told, he was terrified.

Terrified of his feelings that he had for you.

He didn't really know why, seeing as he knew you like the back of his hand and he knew that you wouldn’t hurt him, but that thought still had residence in the back of his mind.

The biggest thing he had to separate is the fact that you weren't her.

The two of you had absolutely nothing in common and when Jack met you, it was like a breath of fresh air.

You were focused, had your goals, dreams, and aspirations set and he honestly wanted nothing more than to see you win and be by your side through all of it.

But what he didn't plan on was falling in love with you head first.

He wanted to tell you, he really did.

But the last thing he ever wanted to do was disappoint you or vice versa, you disappoint him.

However, the way that you showed him that you cared let him know that he wanted you in his life for the long run.

It was only a matter of time until you got fed up and he didn't know what he would do when that happened.

Just a little while longer and he'll tell you.

The wife that he would always mention that he wanted was you.

He saw a future with you and no one else.

Now all he needed was the courage to tell you.

—

You had been back home for about a week and a half and had been extremely busy getting new designs ready for fall. You admit that you hadn’t been answering your phone much or talking to Jack on a daily basis like you usually did, so it didn’t surprise you when your phone started ringing with his specific ringtone attached to it. 

"Hello?" You answered when you had finally found your phone that was buried underneath multiple fabrics that you were using for the dress you were designing.

"Babe! What took you so long to answer your phone!?"

"I'm working, Jackman. I need to work in order to buy things."

"My girl doesn't need to work when she knows I got her. Anything you ask me for, I get it without a second thought."

"I- cut it out."

"Just saying, but anyway, I got your assistant to clear your schedule for this weekend. Actually the whole week." 

"What the!?!? JACK!"

"My baby needs a much deserved break and I'm spending the entire week spoiling her. You'll thank me later."

"Where are we going?"

"Meet me on the tarmac at 6 am on Saturday to find out. Oh and bring that purple lingerie set that I like."

"What? I don't have a set that's purple." You answered, trying to think of all of the sets you had in your head.

"Yes you do since I got it delivered to your house earlier. It'll be waiting for you when you get there."

"What am I going to do with you?" You asked him while shaking your head.

"Nothing. Been stuck with me this long. And you know you can't get rid of me that easily."

"Jackman, get off my phone and let me finish so I can go home."

"So, is that a yes? That you'll go with me?"

"Well I didn't tell you no, did I?"

As promised it was around 5:45 in the morning when you pulled up to the airport to see Jack already waiting for you.

You had barely gotten any sleep the night before between how excited you were, how much you missed him, and worrying about finishing the designs for your boutique.

Once the car came to a complete stop, the driver opened the door for you and while he was getting your bags out of the trunk to load onto the plane, you ran full force into Jack with him catching you and your legs immediately went around his waist.

“Did someone miss me?” He curiously asked while kissing the top of your head.

“Ehh, I mean I guess I missed you.” You responded as he placed you back down on your feet and began to play with your braids. 

“Wait, you guess? After all that I went through to plan this shit for you? YOU GUESS?”

“Of course I missed you J, now where are we going?” You asked as you began to climb the steps of the private jet with him right behind you. 

“Did you bring what I asked you to bring?” Jack asked while eyeing you as the two of you were now seated next to each other.

“If it’s the purple lingerie set that we’re talking about, I’m actually wearing it right now.”

“Good girl. You’ll see when we get there.”

The two of you were now in Paris near the Eiffel tower having a candlelit dinner for your next to last night in Paris and you were in absolute awe of how much he went through to be able to do this for you and were thankful that he takes initiative to be able to spend as much time with you as he possibly can. 

Tonight had to be the night that he was going to do it.

It only made sense right?

He had to ask you to be his girlfriend at this point, because nothing else would make sense.

Him flying you to Paris?

Having dinner near the Eiffel tower?

Putting you in one of the most expensive hotels in the city?

And not to mention him fucking your brains out ever since the two of you touched down with no end in sight. 

The purple lingerie set definitely came in handy. 

I mean this was one hell of a first date if it could be considered one, but you were definitely convinced that it was.

“J, thank you for this.” You said while sipping on your red wine and he simply looked up at you and smiled.

“Anything for my girl, you know that. I know that this is one of your favorite places in the world and I remember you telling me how you really never get a chance to enjoy it because usually when you come here, you’re working so I decided to bring you when I knew for a fact you wouldn’t be working at all. Only work you’re allowed to put in is on this dick.”

“Way to ruin the mood, Jackman.”

“What?! I was just saying! And do you know that I don’t let anyone call me Jackman, but you? Besides my mom of course, but I just love the way my name sounds when you say it.”

“Really? I didn’t know that.”

“Well, yeah. You’re special to me.” Jack replied while shrugging and turning red at the same time. 

“And you’ve definitely shown that to me this week, and all the time really now that I think about it.”

“And I wanted to ask you something.”

“Of course, anything.” You answered as your heart started to race.

This had to be it, it just had to be. 

“I just don’t know how you’re going to take it.” Jack said while scratching the back of his neck, clearly nervous.

“Babe, just ask me.”

“Would you be in charge of designing my wardrobe when I go on tour?”

What.the.actual.fuck.

“Wait, what?”

“Only because I know you have so much to do already, but I wanted you to come on tour with me! I can’t go that long without seeing you or having you near me.”

“Oh.” You said in defeat and now decided to pick up your fork and play with your dessert and trying not to break down in tears in front of him.

“Just think about it, baby. No pressure, but I would love to have you with me. And you already know how much PG adores you.”

“I’ll think about it.” You quietly said and Jack immediately noticed a change in your demeanor.

“Okay, just let me know. Oh and one more thing.”

Jack simply pulled out a box that had Cartier written on it and placed it in front of you and all you did was stare at it.

“What are you waiting for baby? Go ahead and open it.”

You did as you were told and slowly opened it up to see that it was a bracelet.

But not just any bracelet.

It was THE bracelet that you had told Jack you had wanted, but never got around to actually buying it yourself.

“Jack…”

“Do you like it? Here let me put it on for you.” He said while taking it from you to help you put it on.

It was taking everything in you in that moment to not rip it off and throw it into his face.

“You’re my person, Y/N, and don’t you ever forget that. You ready to get out of here?”

You forced a small smile and quickly nodded.

You needed to get away from him.

As soon as possible. 

This had gone on long enough and you were tired of feeling like you weren’t good enough for him.

The ride back to the hotel was awkwardly silent and Jack knew that there was something wrong, but he couldn’t quite pinpoint what it could actually be. 

He finally cornered you in the master bedroom of the suite that you two were staying in and wanted an answer.

“Babe? What’s wrong? Something’s off.”

“You just wouldn’t understand.”

“Why wouldn’t I understand? Where is this coming from?”

“Jack,  drop it and I mean it.”

“Something is wrong with my girl and I’m not dropping it until she tells me why.” He answered before turning you around to face him.

All you did was look down and Jack quickly put his finger under your chin for you to look up at him.

“I’m tired of not being good enough.” You quietly whispered not being able to hold it in any longer.

“What? What do you mean? Good enough for who? You are more than enough.”

“Obviously not for you.”

Jack wasn’t expecting that for an answer and was now looking at you confused.

“For me?”

“Don’t play dumb because I do not have the patience for it tonight.” You said while turning around and continuing to pack your bag.

“I’m not playing dumb, but why would you say that?!”

“Jackman, you literally do everything as if we’re in a relationship. Down to the gifts, you buying me a car no matter how much I wanted for you to return it, you fuck me whenever you feel like it, fly me out to wherever you are in the world and you literally just gave me a key to your house. And now apparently instead of flying me to Paris in order for you to ask me to be your girlfriend, I get a bracelet and you asking for me to go on tour with you instead. All while still not being able to call myself your girlfriend. You just take and take and take from me and I allow it! I follow you anywhere like a lost puppy! You don’t see any problem with that?”

“Where is this coming from because the last time I checked, you were okay with it.”

“When was the last time you checked? Because I honestly don’t ever remember you asking me.”

“And you’re just saying something now? We’ve known each other for almost TWO years!”

“And that’s all you have to say? You constantly make me feel like I’m not good enough and that I’m a placeholder for your actual wife because you even said it yourself.”

“NO I DIDN’T!”

“BUT IT WAS IMPLIED!”

“Y/N.. just I can’t have a girlfriend right now.”

“But you can have me, who is basically your girlfriend without the title? I’VE MET YOUR PARENTS AND YOUR GRANDPARENTS. WHO DOES THAT FOR SOMEONE WHO THEY DON’T PLAN  ON BEING WITH?!”

“I….”

“And now you don’t even have an answer because you never intended on making me your girlfriend in the first place. Even if you led me to believe that you were. You cut everyone off for me and it’s like for what? You might as well call them back because whatever this is, it’s over and done with. You’re not going to play me anymore.”

“No one is even playing you! You knew this shit from the beginning and how it would be!”

“Jack, you don’t have to worry about me so here’s your key back. And do me a favor. Don’t call me for the rest of your life and I hope that you find your wife wherever she may be.”

“Y/N… you don’t mean that. You…. don’t do this.”

“You don’t love me so why do you even care if I walk out of your life?”

“I DO LOVE YOU!”

“BUT NOT THE WAY THAT I FUCKING LOVE YOU SO I DON’T WANT TO HEAR IT! I’M DONE, I’M DONE WITH THIS SHIT! I DESERVE BETTER!” You were now crying and Jack was trying to embrace you, but you immediately pushed him away.

“No, I’m not getting roped back in so don’t even touch me.”

“Y/N, you’re crying.”

“BECAUSE OF YOU!”

“Y/N, I just need more time. We’ll do this, we’ll do it all. Be in a relationship and everyone will know about it.”

You simply wiped your eyes with the back of your hand even though they were still steadily streaming down your face.

“No, don’t try to save face now and try to make it right. I meant it when I said I was done. Don’t give me any handouts. I want someone to love me for me and love me outloud and not be afraid to show it. I have never seen someone so scared of commitment like you are. I’m not innocent in this either, however, I realized that I deserve more.” You said as you closed your suitcase and was making your way towards the door.

“I CAN’T FUCKING LIVE WITHOUT YOU AND YOU KNOW THAT!”

“You lived without me for 22 years. I’m sure you’ll find a way to fill the void.”

“Y/N please. I don’t know what I’m going to do if you walk out that door and never talk to me again.” Jack pleaded with you with actual tears in his eyes.

“You’re Jack Harlow. You’ll find another bitch to keep your bed warm at night.”

“But she won’t be you!”

“And you’re damn right about that. Maybe now I can actually look for my husband, wherever he may be.”

“Let’s just sleep on this and we’ll talk about it again in the morning.” Jack said while trying to come closer to you but you immediately backed up. 

“Jack, I made myself pretty clear. The answer is no.”

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[afewproblems]

Season Two Halloween AU Part Seven

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

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 being my cheerleader!

[CW: Discussions of injuries, vomiting]

***

Eddie grips the steering wheel tightly in his hands, while his eyes flick from the rearview mirror and back to the road over and over again, watching for movement, for some sign of wakefulness in Steve.

Dustin had managed to find bandages and peroxide earlier in the Byers washroom to help clean up Steve's face before they left, while Eddie delicately picked the shards of ceramic out of Steve's hair.

The impact had broken the skin and would definitely require stitches, but there were no pieces left in the wound.

The biggest worry for Eddie, with Steve now cleaned and bandaged, was that Steve had already been smacked around the day before by Hargrove. He can't even imagine what two blows to the head in two days has actually done, and there wouldn't be any way of knowing until Steve wakes.

And that is where the argument had started.

***

"We can't just leave, we have to do something we have to give them time!" Mike insists while Eddie gathers the soiled towels covered in blood and peroxide.

Eddie scoffs and whirls around on Mike.

"Are you joking? Your babysitter just got obliterated by an ashtray, we're going to the hospital".

Dustin reaches out for Eddies shoulder, shaking it with urgency, "Steve would have--"

"No, he told you guys that we were not getting involved, we're on the bench".

"You can't keep all of us here," Max tries this time, she crosses her arms in front of her and scowls at Eddie, "if we all go, we'll all be safe".

Eddie barks out a nearly hysterical laugh at the suggestion, these fucking kids.

He looks down at Steve and tries to imagine what he would do in this scenario. Hopper, Joyce, Nancy, and Jonathan are gone; Steve is the only other expert left in this situation, the only other voice of reason in the house.

With his eyes closed and the blood now gone, Steve looks as though he could be sleeping.

"Shit. Shit," Eddie brings his hands up into his hair and tries to slow down the panic coursing through him. It's too much, too many people to worry about even without the literal destruction of their town hanging over their heads.

He looks at Steve again.

"Okay, but if we do this, you listen to me, no arguments, none of that shit you give Steve," Eddie begins counting off his fingers as he speaks, "and most importantly, we go to the hospital, you get forty-five minutes".

***

"Mike, are you still keeping time for how long he's been out?" Eddie asks as he looks at the kids through the rearview.

Though he hadn't thought about it when he bought the van off of Reefer Rick --a deal he's still not sure who got the better end of, based on the lightness of Eddie's wallet for weeks afterwards, Eddie is pretty grateful now for the number of seats and the long bench in the back.

Steve's Beemer wouldn't have been able to fit all of them and as much as Max tried to justify stealing her brothers car, neither would the Camero.

Mike mutters something under his breath and Dustin elbows him in the ribs, hard by the sound Mike makes and the glare he shoots Dustin in response.

"I got it," Max says tiredly, she holds up her watch before letting her hand drop into her lap.

She perks up slightly and leans forward to grip the back of the drivers seat, "you know, if you want to sit back here, I can--"

"Nope, nope," Eddie punctuates the words by slapping the steering wheel, "your job is to watch him, and navigate".

"I'm navigating," Lucas insists from the passenger seat beside Eddie. He has the map from earlier spread out over his legs and a finger tracing the red marker lines they had made earlier that night, "you're going to keep going straight and then it's a left on Mount Sinai by the way".

Eddie nods and opens his mouth to ask about how long until the turn when a groan floats up from the back.

Eddie nearly slams on the brakes in surprise, instead jerking the wheel, sending the van into a harsh swerve over the empty road. The kids all yell over one another but Dustin's voice carries the loudest.

"You're jostling him, Jesus Eddie!"

Eddie winces as he manages to straighten the vehicle's course once more, "shit, shit sorry, just, is he awake?"

"Not really," Dustin says, the sound of rustling fabric and another groan punctuating the silent car.

Eddie's resolve finally snaps.

He turns to Lucas, "you said it's just straight and then one more turn right?" Eddie asks as he lets the car drift to the side of the road before throwing it into park.

"Yeah, why?" Lucas says slowly, his face scrunched into a confused frown, Max perks up once again from the middle row in Eddie's periphery.

Eddie turns to face Max's wide grin and rolls his eyes, "yeah, yeah, get up here," he grumbles, popping open the driver's side door.

"Seatbelt or no deal, keep it under sixty, and slow down on the turn".

Max nods rapidly and bites her lip, nearly vibrating with excitement as she scrambles over the middle console to take Eddie's place, "you got it!"

"Why does she get to drive?" Mike growls under his breath but it still carries through the open drivers side door. Steve makes another noise and Eddie has to tamp down a scream of frustration at the sound.

He makes his way to the back passenger door, sliding it open to meet Mike's glare, "my van, my rules Wheeler, move up, Dustin you're keeping the time now".

Dustin nods and leans towards the front, lifting his watch as he asks Max quietly about how long Steve has been out.

Eddie settles in the far back next to Steve, ignoring the guilt that settles heavily in his stomach. If only he had locked the door, if he had been able to hold his own with Billy, this never would have happened. Eddie swallows the lump that begins to form in his throat and pours his focus into Steve, that's who needs him now.

Eddie's never seen someone with a head injury before, hell, he's never seen anyone get their ass beaten like Steve just did and Wayne's lessons in first aid never went past burns or cuts, maybe splinting a break.

Eddie was out of his depth with this.

Steve's unfocused gaze lands on him as he tilts his head slightly. He makes a small noise of recognition and lifts his left hand up to brush softly against Eddie's face.

"Nance?" Steve slurs out, blinking a few times, and fuck, if that doesn't sting.

Eddie can't quite hide his wince and breathes out sharply through his nose, "Nope, sorry, you're stuck with me".

Steve blinks again, this time his eyes narrow slightly as he reaches out again, but Eddie manages to catch his hand this time and gently lowers it back down. He allows himself one indulgence though, and entwines his fingers through Steve's own.

Just this once.

"Ed?" Steve says this time and Eddie can't help the grin that slowly pulls at his lips, thank God.

"Yeah man," Eddie whispers, he clears his throat in an attempt to move the lump that appears once more. Steve's pupils are different sizes but that doesn't seem to stop him from realizing they are no longer in the Byers home.

"Why--we're moving?"

"I was out numbered," Eddie says darkly, sending a glare to Dustin who flips him the bird over his shoulder. He's looking at Lucas's map from the seat behind him.

Steve groans again and Eddie watches as all the colour drains from his cheeks and lips. By the time Eddie realizes what is happening, Steve is already leaning his head over the floor and vomiting all over Eddie's shoes.

"Oh shit Steve, okay, okay, let it out," Eddie helps him sit up slightly and manages to move his feet for the next round, nose wrinkling at the smell of bile. He lets go of Steve's hand and instead settles for letting one hand brace his shoulder while the other sweeps into his hair, pulling the slightly longer sections away from his face.

Eddie tries to focus on keeping Steve steady rather than how soft his hair is.

Mike sucks his teeth in disgust as Dustin swears from the middle seat and covers his mouth, "did he just puke?"

Eddie wants to throttle them both.

Steve pulls him from his violent thoughts though as he coughs and gags again, breathing out a heavy whine as he catches his breath.

He mumbles something so quiet that Eddie almost wonders for a moment if he spoke at all, but then Steve taps his hand weakly against Eddie's hand on his shoulder.

"Pull over," he whispers in a much clearer voice this time and Eddie looks up towards the front of the car, Max is in the middle of turning, the last one if Lucas was to be believed.

"Steve, we can't," Eddie tries, hating the way that Steve deflates, it's almost like when Eddie found him after Tina's party.

"I sorry sweetheart, I promise, hospital after this," Eddie says quietly.

He freezes at the realization of what he just said.

Shit.

It's as though his heart has stopped in his chest and his ribs are crushing inwards, as though he's about to collapse like some dying star.

Eddie looks around the interior of the van, hoping no one else heard him only to catch Dustin staring him down with an intense but curious look in his eyes, his brow furrowed as though Eddie is a puzzle and the last piece has gone missing.

Dustin says nothing though, and turns back to the front where Mike, Lucas, and Max are talking animatedly.

Steve's head flops backwards onto Eddie's chest, pulling his focus from the kids. Steve is looking up at him and from his close Eddie can count the number of eyelashes, the number of freckles dusting his nose, the flecks of green in his blown eyes.

Even with his bruised face and the faint traces of bile on his breath, Steve is beautiful.

Eddie thinks of how Steve protected them all again and again, how he offered advice to Dustin -even if it wasn't the best, how he had insisted that Eddie wasn't the reason Steve had been scared that night, not wanting him to feel like yet another person was afraid of Eddie.

He thinks of all the ways that Steve has shown himself over the last few days and feels the last few strands holding up the image of King-Steve Harrington, finally fall away.

He's never let himself to stare like this, unashamedly at another man, it had always been too dangerous --especially in Hawkins.

Perhaps he can allow himself this other indulgence then, just for now.

Unbidden, the words Steve said earlier echo faintly for Eddie as they sit in the back of his beat up old van while the kids start arguing over the one painters mask they found in the shed earlier.

'People will come in and out of your life all the time, and the ones that are meant to be there will stay, and if they go, then it wasn't meant to be.

I think I need more people in my life like that'.

He swallows heavily as Steve's eyes close and he sinks even further into Eddie, his soft hair tickles against Eddie's neck as he burrows closer.

Eddie lifts his gaze to the roof of the van. He doesn't believe in God, no, hearing his uncle's stories of 'Nam, his mother dying, and Al kicking him to the curb were enough to dissuade Eddie of any real notion of a higher power existing.

But it doesn't stop him from sending a thought out into the universe.

If we make it out of this, Eddie thinks, I promise to listen this time.

Part Eight Now Up

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@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 @airconditioning123 @steveshairspray @hellfireone @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 @amerikanskaya-krassavitsa @pyrohonk @emly03 @geekymagicalpotato @sidebarre @eddielives1986 @lemon-astra @cipounette @discreetapple @starlitlakes @saphhicwitchbitch @marvel-ous-m @honorarybrit81 @lingeringmirth

and for some peeps that I think may be interested! @steddierthings @steddie-there @steves-strapcollection @henderdads @stevesbipanic @spooky-brakers @flowercrowngods (welcome back Dio!)

[entropicbias]

Do u have any johndave hcs youd care to share? Literally anything that comes to mind (height hcs, habits in their coexistence, what kind of food they usually make/eat/order, general opinions towards each others family... just throwing a few out there to get thoughts flowing). I am v intrigued about ur vision for them, ur domestic sketches feel like they have a lot of thought (or at least general vibes) behind them

when i draw john and dave sometimes, i have this very specific universe they live in planned out in my head. most of this is self projecting with me and my own best friend, but i'd be really happy to share anyways!

these are my headcanons for them physically. i am really not sure what race john should be. i always say he's "mystery asian" but honestly, i dunno. dave, to me, is embarrassingly white.

here are two pinterest boards i just made to try and explain their sense of style and their "vibes". i'm sorry if this is shit. i'm no experienced pinterest board creator. dave's board john's board

and on top of that, here are two playlists that highlight what kind of music i think they'd listen to. dave's playlist john's playlist i think john's taste in music is just stuff he's picked up from other people, and movies. dave actually goes out and finds new music he'd like to listen to. john would be the type of person to have 4 songs in a playlist and hit smart shuffle on them. i think john's favorite food is lasagna/burgers and dave's favorite food is spicy chicken wings. but since dave doesn't know how to cook and john is busy most of the time, they'd order takeout frequently. i think john and dave would both be smokers, one more casually than the other one. here is a minecraft house i built for them: https://youtu.be/bXCzLp-S99Y?si=mebaL3FDafxrPt-I but, i'll talk more about it. i think john and dave would rent an apartment in the city together so john could easily go to uni and dave can grow mold in his room. it'd be a really shitty place, but i think with john's efforts they'd manage to make the place look more homely. dave would mostly stay in his room because he has made it so that he could sustain himself in there for a week without having to come out. john wouldn't be on his case about it though as long as the living room isn't filthy. i think john would be able to tolerate a moderate mess.

i think john would be weirded out by bro strider, but then again i don't think those two would cross paths very often. i think in a world where dirk exists as dave's brother consistently he'd get really annoyed by him. that is why i made those dirk comics. i reckon that dave would like john's dad, but for some reason i always imagined he'd be dead or in a different state when john and dave live together. in terms of what they'd do, i think dave would be a college dropout so he'd probably be working some really peculiar short-term one off jobs. like, gigs and costume mascot work. or he'd be doing some really weird crypto shit on the internet, which he'd think is really funny. like, he'd rake in a handful of money during the nft craze. i imagine john and dave trying to live a little and be teenagers during the time. so they'd show up to or have parties and they'd be getting up to some zany and boisterous teenage behavior. i think john would be studying at university and he'd have a job related to that. i'd bet that dad would help him pay for his expenses too. i think john would study computer science or something kind of nerdy like that. he'd be paying for most of the expenses at home. and he'd probably be doing most of the chores, but he wouldn't mind that much cause dave tries to contribute and he makes good company. john and dave would play video games a lot and go out to eat and see movies and stuff. just kind of really casual things. maybe they'd go out to arcades too. i suggest reading deacon_blue's moveout zine, which i enjoy a lot and has a similar basis. it is one of my favorite things produced out of the fandom regarding the beta kids. romantically, i like to imagine they don't actually get together until like, two years of living together. not much i can say about that but when it happens, it happens late. i can't formulate the words to describe this bit, but i'll end up drawing pictures later on. i hope this was enough, i can't really think of anything else unless i'm prompted with specific questions so if you have any i'd love to keep talking about this weird universe i've built in my head around them.

[fairydvsts-blog]

𝐢 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐲 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

JJ Maybank x fem!reader

"i love you" in Taylor Swift's lyrics masterlist

summary; your husband gives JJ a maintenence job at your vacation house and you spend all summer crushing over your hot new employee

warnings; characters are aged up (both characters are in their mid/late 20's), cheating, SMUT, dirty talk, some neck grabbing, female masturbation, overstimulation, squirting, praising, p in v, unprotected sex. I feel like this shit is LONG af!

a/n; english isn't my first language, so you might find mistakes; I'm open to constructive criticism. Enjoy!

It was a very warm afternoon in Outer Banks. The sky was completely clear —there wasn't a single cloud in sight— and the sun was shining brighter than ever, but that was not what had gotten you all hot and bothered.

JJ Maybank, the new maintenance guy, was.

As you were lounging on the deck chair beside the pool, holding some random book you weren't paying attention to in your hands, you couldn't take your eyes off him. Being a hundred per cent honest, it had been that way since your husband hired him a few weeks ago. Luckily for you, neither of them seemed to have noticed yet.

You felt guilty for being attracted to him, though. You had been married for two years, and you were supposed to be in love with your husband, not craving other man's touch. But you couldn't help it. There was something about JJ that was drawing you like a moth to the flame; maybe it was his gorgeous blue eyes, his silky blonde hair, or his ripped muscles, or maybe it was all of them together, either way, you had managed to suppress your feelings for what felt like ages in order to not ruin your wonderful —but really boring— marriage.

Little did you know that your self-control was about to go to shit.

You had tried to focus on your reading for several minutes, and to date, you had failed miserably. Your mind kept going back to earlier that day, when JJ had brushed past you in the hallway, remembering how you had looked right into his alluring eyes, wishing for him to push you against the wall and to fuck you right there and then. You had to cross your legs at the thought, feeling your bikini bottom getting wetter by the second.

It was wrong and forbidden, you knew it, but in some way, that made it more exciting.

You stared at him through your sunglasses, mesmerised by the way his sweaty golden muscles glistened under the sun rays as he mowed the lawn. You were so busy imagining how his wet skin would feel against your own that you hadn't noticed the furtive looks he was giving you.

Your mouth almost watered when you saw him grabbing the hem of his sleeveless t-shirt to take it off. He threw it on the floor next to him and then he reached for the garden hose soaking himself with it to cool off. He ran his big hands through his blonde locks to accommodate his hair after that; the veins of his arms on display for you to see.

You swore you saw it all happening in slowmo. The little smirk that appeared in his face just seconds later while he shortly glanced at you gave you butterflies.

You realised something: he was doing it on purpose.

And, oh lord, that just made you want him even more. You were so horny that, for a moment, you thought you were about to literally combust in the spot.

Without giving it a second thought, you gave into the desires you had been repressing for weeks now.

You dropped your book instantly, grabbing the strings that held your blue bikini top in place to untie them. Your top dropped, leaving you exposed in front of a man that was not your husband, but you couldn't care less about that fact. His eyes widened because of the scene occurring before him, but he didn't look away at any moment, mesmerised by the sight of the woman of his dreams pouring tanning oil over her almost naked body.

He had to be delirious, right? The heat was making him delusional, that must be it.

Whether it was true or not, the boner forming in his trousers was pretty real so he picked up his t-shirt, using it to cover himself before he started walking towards the back door of the house. He had to leave before he did something stupid, like accidentally fucking his boss' wife while he was away on some business trip.

"I have finished for the day, Mrs. Ross. Do yo need something else before I go?" he asked in his way out.

He tried to keep the interaction between the two of you entirely profesional and he even resisted looking at your naked breasts. It was the hardest thing he had done in his entire life, though, because since he had started working for your husband, you were the first thing that crossed his mind when he woke up and the last thing he thought of before going to sleep.

But you knew professionalism had flew out of the window after the show you just put.

"Actually, could you rub some oil on my back?" you asked with a playful smile.

You gave him no time to answer and you handed him the tanning oil bottle, turning around after he took it, leaving him completely speechless. He gulped, his eyes looking directly at your ass, only covered by a really tiny thong, and he knew he was done for.

Leaning over you, he purred the oil on your back. When his hands touched you to spread it over your skin, you closed your eyes and almost moaned like a hormonal teenager. He gently massaged your shoulders, then your waist area and finally he reached your lower back, giving you goosebumps.

When you thought that he was over and that he was going to pull away, he surprised you by grabbing the oil bottle one more time, purring it over your legs. He started massaging your calves, moving up slowly, until he reached your upper thighs and a small moan escaped your lips; it had been too long since the last time you had sex with your husband and you felt like you could come untouched.

He leaned in, you felt his hot breath in your ear and he murmured, "You wouldn't believe how many times I have fantasised about touching you like this, Mrs. Ross."

One of his hands grabbed your ass cheek under your bikini bottom while he started placing wet kisses on your neck, making you whimper again. He had to stop, though, when you turned around to face him; he froze at the thought of you changing your mind about what was about to happen, but when you caressed his cheek and placed a gentle kiss on his neck, next to his ear, all of his fears vanished.

"And you wouldn't believe how many times I've touched myself, wishing it was your fingers instead of mine, Mr. Maybank," you whispered looking right into his blue eyes.

"Fuck."

He grabbed your neck and brought you closer to him, your mouths were so close that they lightly brushed over each other. You felt his breath becoming faster and your heart started pounding like crazy when you saw him licking his lips while looking closely at yours, but you forced yourself to pull away from his touch.

"Someone could be watching us, we should get inside," you suggested.

The last thing you wanted was your husband finding out about you and JJ. This was a one time thing, just to get him out of your system. After that, you would go back to being the perfect loving wife your husband deserved.

He nodded, agreeing with you, and helped you getting up. He reached for his t-shirt to cover your naked form with it before grabbing your hand and taking you inside.

"Be quiet," you asked, while the both of you sneaked around the massive house, trying to avoid your nosy housemaid.

You made it to your bedroom successfully and as soon as both of you were inside, JJ pushed you against the door, locking it.

"Can I kiss you?" he questioned, pressing his body against yours.

"Yes, please."

He didn't waste any more time, finally crushing your lips together. The kiss was heated, messy, hungry. His hands sneaked under your clothes to grab your waist with need, pulling you even closer to him. You felt frantic as you wrapped your hands around his neck, kissing him back like you were drowning and he was air.

His tongue slipped between your lips. completely devouring your mouth while one of his hands gripped your neck to keep your head pinned against the door; you broke the kiss, whimpering in his mouth because of the action and he kept his forehead against yours, looking into your eyes as both of you tried to steady your breathing.

"Why don't you show me how you touch yourself when you think about me, baby?" he whispered.

Your heart skip a beat after hearing the words he spoke; you had never done something like that before, yet you nodded, making him smile. He kissed you gently before taking off your —his— shirt and then, only wearing your bikini thong, you moved towards the bed, where you sat.

You placed your feet over the edge of the mattress, spreading your legs, and leaned on your elbow to make yourself comfortable. His eyes never left your body, analysing every inch of your exposed skin.

"You're beautiful," he complimented you, which encouraged you to move your hand down your belly until it disappeared under your last piece of clothing.

You panted when you felt your fingertips brushing your needy pussy for the first time, biting your lip right after. Your cheeks flushed when JJ squeezed his cock over his pants while hearing and looking at you; seeing him so into it motivated you to keep going.

Your fingers started rubbing circles over your swollen clit, slowly at first, but you were so turned on that soon you sped up your movements. You were soaked and even the lightest touch sent sparks of pleasure across your entire body. A small moan escaped your lips when you traced your entrance with two fingers, slipping them inside for a second before taking them out again.

"Take this off, baby, I wanna see you," he pleaded, kneeling between your legs on the bed and grabbing the straps of the bikini.

Yo nodded, pulling your hand out of if and lifting your hips so he could take the thong off. He moaned at the sight of your glistening cunt and placed his hands over your knees to further separate your thighs.

Under his attentive gaze, you pushed your middle and ring finger inside of your pussy, curving them so you could reach that spot in the front that made you see stars with each thrust. You made sure to rub your clit with the palm of your hand, too.

"That's it, princess, you're doing so good for me," he praised you, moving one of his hands up your leg until it reached your chest, where he started touching your breasts, "Wish those where my fingers, baby."

You moaned because of his words as he unfastened his belt with his free hand, unbuttoning his trousers right after. He reached for the waistband of the pants, pulling it down so his underwear was in sight. You gasped when you were able to see the outline of his dick under his boxers; your mouth watered at how big he was.

You added a third finger, desperate for cumming; your arousal was dripping all over the bedding, making a mess.

"I'm so fucking horny for you, JJ," you told him, calling him by his name for the first time, "I'm going to cum."

You couldn't even remember the last time that you had fingered yourself so hard. Or the last time that you had been so fucking wet. He smiled, lowering his hand to touch your clit with his rough thumb, making you moan repeatedly.

You felt the familiar tingling in your lower belly, your breathing hitched and before you could stop it, you were coming harder than ever. Your muscles tightened and your legs started shaking uncontrollably. Overwhelmed by such a strong orgasm, you took out your fingers, trying to close your legs to soothe the sensation, but JJ wouldn't let you do so. Instead, he replaced your fingers with his own and he kept fucking you with them through your orgasm.

"JJ, please, stop, it's to much! Baby... Oh fuck!" you moaned, grinding your hips against his hand despite the overstimulation.

"I know you have another one in you, princess," he said, working his fingers harder and faster inside of you, "C'mon, be a good girl and cum for me."

He placed his free hand over your pelvis, putting pressure there, while he curved his fingers in his direction. In less than thirty seconds he had you coming undone again. Your vision went blank as your entire body trembled and you squirted all over him, crying out his name like a prayer.

It took you a few minutes to recover from the most explosive orgasm of your life, realising you had completely soaked everything. JJ laid down next to you the whole time and didn't stop caressing you for a second while he whispered sweet things to your ear.

You turned to look at him with the biggest smile and you said, "I didn't know I could do that."

The blonde laughed softly, burying his face on the crook of your neck, where he started placing wet kisses while his hand went to rub your pussy again, collecting your squirt to lick it off his fingers with a lustful look in his eyes.

"If I were your husband, I'd make sure you squirted every fucking day of my life, baby." Your cheeks flushed.

You bit your lip, pushing him so he was laying on his back and straddled him, grinding your wet cunt over his clothed dick; he was so hard that he thought he was gonna cum in his pants at the sight of your naked body dry humping his cock.

"Fuck me, JJ, please," you almost begged, still turned on in spite of having come twice already.

"Wait, I have to grabb a condom." He tried to stand up, but you grabbed his neck and pushed him back on the bed, stopping him.

"You don't have to wear one. I'm on the pill and I'm clean," you explained, tracing his abs with the tip of your fingers.

"I'm clean too," he promised, you lifted your hips with a smirk covering your face.

"I trust you," you said.

You helped him getting out of his clothes and your eyes widened when you finally saw his naked cock bounce back against his stomach. He was really, really big. Much bigger than your husband for sure.

You grabbed his dick on your hand, making him moan, and you stroked him a few times before brushing his swollen red tip between your folds.

"Oh my God," he groaned, his head falling back against the mattress.

You repeated the action one last time before you began to lower your hips slowly, shoving his dick inside of your pussy. You moaned at the stretch, placing your hand over his broad chest to steady yourself, and you started bouncing on his cock, trying to find a rhythm that both of you liked. When you saw him frowning and breathing fast, you knew you had found it.

Whimpering, you asked him, "Does this feel good, J?"

"Yes, so fucking good, baby." He gasped, grabbing your hips to help you ride him.

His own hips started thrusting upwards, trying to match your pace, and you couldn't help but moan when he hit the right spot again. You tightened your muscles around his dick on purpose to make him feel as good as he had made you feel before; you smiled when he cried out, pounding into you harder.

"I'm not gonna last if you keep doing that, baby," he admitted.

His hair was stuck into his forehead due to the sweat, covering his eyes a little bit, so you caressed his face and took it out of the way so that he could see you better

"Want you to come inside me, J," you asked for, "Want to feel you filling my pussy."

"Oh fuck, baby, you're so hot...I'm close," his statement encouraged you to start bouncing faster on his cock.

You whimpered when one of his hands made its way to your pussy and began to stroke your clit. You wanted, no, needed to cum again, so you took his other hand and placed it over one of your tits, which he squeezed and started playing with. At the same time, you leaned over him and placed wet kisses all over his chest, feeling his abs tightening under your palm just seconds later, announcing his orgasm.

He became a hot moaning mess under you while you kept riding him through his climax, but his thumb never left your clit as he rode it out, taking you down the cliff with him after a few seconds; your pussy clenched and your eyes rolled back due to the sensation. He sat up, kissing you one last time before he pulled out. You could feel his sticky cum come out of your pussy as you laid down next to him. JJ cuddled you, putting his head over your chest.

"I think..I think you have become my new addiction, Mrs. Ross," he confessed.

You smiled briefly before placing a soft kiss on his forehead.

"I can see you being my addiction, too, Mr. Maybank."

[chelseeebe]

do you think i have forgotten (about you)

a part two to come pick me up.

summary: eddie finds himself out of jail and right back on your doorstep. running from his past while trying desperately to fix the mess he had left you in only leads to complicated situations.

a/n: so this is actually not what i had expected to post lmfao but similar to part one i reread this in my drafts and literally fell in love.. like it needed to be posted.

18+. smut, smoking, drug and alcohol use. mentions of jail and creepy therapists. angst.. sweet sweet angst. as before, this is stevexreader however this part is way more about eddie and r.

you can’t lie. the last few months had been pretty tough, on both you and steve. through no fault of his own though.

you were just.. unwell. perhaps you always had been and the process of seeing someone you regarded as your best friend beat the shit out of someone and subsequently be jailed for it had brought all those feelings up.

‎♡‧₊˚

not to mention the emotional toll of him dipping in and out of your life and the countless other reckless shit he’d pulled you into before.

currently things were stable, yours and steve’s relationship was good, you were going to work and succeeding in being mostly sober. a little help from a short stay in a psychiatric ward and some nice new pills had you feeling semi-okay again.

it had started not long after eddie was sentenced, you’d sat in the docks of the courtroom and watched the judge bang the gavel down as he was sentenced to twenty four months. it stung knowing that he’d gotten himself in this position because you’d dared to kiss your boyfriend in front of him.

nevertheless, a few short weeks after the horrid court date you’d suffered a complete breakdown at a party. throwing anything you could get your hands on, sobbing hysterically as steve tried his best to calm you. right in front of everybody, their gawping eyes prying as you were escorted out by the police who had then issued a caution and had recommended to the judge that you needed some sort of mental health intervention.

at the time it was humiliating. the worst part being that it felt like everyone around you was walking on eggshells, trying to coddle you and tell you that it was all okay. you’d known it wasn’t. maybe it could be, but for right then, no.

coming back into the apartment and the real world had been quite frankly, awful. missing the safety of the ward, you couldn’t hurt anyone in there.

steve had been your saviour through it all. making sure he was there for every visit with a great big smile on his. he was gentle, giving you your meds, making sure you were eating and he’d even found you a job, helping you apply, christ he’d even ran through a mock interview with you, putting on a deep voice and asking you silly questions.

and do you know what?

eventually things got back to some sense of normality. braving your first gathering, trembling as you walked through the door, terrified that everyone would hate you only to find that all anyone had really cared about was making sure you were well again.

and that lands us here, finally finishing a dragging shift and traipsing home to collapse into bed to wait for steve to get home.

except, nearing the front door you notice it’s cracked open slightly. the door handle looks busted and you’re ninety percent sure that either someone was currently in your apartment or had been in and ransacked it.

you push the door open with one finger, it freaks loudly as it opens slowly, startling the intruder who curses and drops whatever they were holding.

‘you have five seconds to get the fuck out,’ you warn, creeping from behind the door frame nervously.

there’s a figure stood in the middle of the room, back turned to you who very slowly puts his hands in the air, surrendering.

he turns to face you, a shit-eating grin on his face and you finally recognise the cocky face staring back at you.

‘eddie?!’

he breathes a sigh of relief, ‘holy shit i was startin’ to think you’d moved out and i’d just broken into some strangers apartment,’ cackling as his arms outstretch to hug you.

‘what the fuck- what are you doing here? you’re supposed to be in jail!’ in utter disbelief that he was stood before you, debating whether pinching yourself would wake you up from this strange dream.

‘i got out! duh,’ he grins, making his way towards you, arms still outstretched.

‘you.. you got out? what? you’re not supposed to be out for like another year.. i don’t- i’m not understanding,’ carefully wrapping your arms around his shoulders as he pulls you into a hug.

he felt stronger, sturdy as his arms wrap around your waist. the hug lasts for what feels like an eternity until you back to properly examine his face and to once again check that you weren’t hallucinating.

‘i can’t believe you’re actually here.. how are you? i’m sorry i’ve been.. busy,’ trying to recover over the last few months had meant that you’d sorta neglected eddie, his last letter still in the clutter on your desk somewhere.. unanswered.

unfortunately for him, you’d had a few more important things to focus on. like trying not to break down and keep your relationship with steve afloat.

‘i’m good, i’m always good.. what’ve you been up to? i missed your letters,’ it was a simple statement but you’d never truly comprehend just how much receiving anything from you had meant to him, how much it kept him going.

you let go of him fully, motioning for him to take a seat, ‘it’s a super long story..’ sighing as you jam the bursted door shut, steve would have to look at it on his day off.

‘well it’s a good thing i’ve got time,’ collapsing into the cushions, making himself right at home.

-

you and eddie are sat on the couch smoking when the key turns in the door and steve walks in, looking just as exhausted as he did when he left this morning. the tiny shadow of a smile that was on his face is dropped the second he see’s eddie, replaced with a state of pure confusion.

‘what the fuck?’ he exclaims, dropping his bag onto the floor as eddie clambers off of the sofa to greet him.

steve’s face is a picture, eyebrows knitted together as eddie’s hand claps his back, ‘you’re supposed to be in prison?’

eddie pulls back, holding onto steves shoulder’s, ‘and you’re supposed to be happy to see me,’ faux-offended by steve’s confused stature.

‘no.. i am, what? why are you out?’

eddie shrugs him off, coming back to the couch, ‘ehh it’s a long story.. come.. sit, how was work, big boy?’ taking the spliff from your outstretched hand to offer to steve.

steve plonks himself down next to you, placing your legs over his thighs instead of the couch, ‘yeah.. it was alright, i’m sorry- why the fuck are you in my living room and not in federal prison?’ taking the burning joint from eddie’s fingers.

‘i got out,’ eddie offers back, the exact same thing he’d said to you. you had come to the conclusion that his departure from jail had perhaps not been entirely legal but it was way easier to brush it off rather than trying to probe him.

steve narrows his eye’s, obviously also not buying his bullshit but decides instead to smoke whatever had been handed to him, humming as he exhales a thick cloud of smoke.

‘i said that he could stay here.. just for a few days, if that’s okay?’ you ask, looking up at your boyfriend with hopeful eyes.

he pauses, contemplating if harbouring a, presumed, escaped convict was really a great idea, ‘uhh.. yeah i’m sure a few days is fine..’ he didn’t sound so sure himself.

‘thanks man,’ eddie nods, eyeing the door to his old bedroom.

the thing is, when eddie was convicted, his uncle had come to collect most of his stuff, taking it back to hawkins in his van. you’d thought he’d be locked up for at least two years so sending his things back to hawkins was the smartest idea. that meant when you guys moved out, you weren’t left to deal with his mountains of crap.

you catch him looking, feeling a tad guilty that he’d come back to nothing, ‘the bed’s still in there but.. it’s mostly storage now,’ scrunching your nose as you grimace.

‘that’s alright.. anything’s better than prison,’ he jokes, offering a saddened chuckle.

‘yeah.. exactly,’ not that you had much idea what prison was like, but from what eddie had told you, your living room floor would be an improvement.

the three of you spend a few hours right there on the couch, listening to eddie’s tales from jail, entangled with your stories of all the thing he’d missed. steve nudges you at some point, muttering something about bed which you agree with, rushing around to find eddie a spare blanket.

‘you’ll be okay in here?’ you ask, poised in the doorway.

‘yeah it’s great.. thank you,’ he smiles, sitting down on the edge of his old bed, peering around the now mostly empty room.

it felt a little suffocating if he was honest, the sheer amount of memories these blank four walls held. he swore he could hear echoes of your laugh from the times before, remembering the nights where you’d stumble back here and subsequently pass out in a heap on his bed. he shakes his head slightly, ridding himself of the thought before it got too deep.

‘okay, well.. goodnight,’ flashing him a tight-lipped smile before closing the door and making your way to your own room.

steve is stood facing the window, already stripped out of his clothes, ready for bed. he spins when he hears the door click shut, walking over to where you stood undressing with a grin, hands finding their place on your waist.

you hum at the feeling of his palms on your skin, ‘what’re you doing?’ shimmying out of your horrendous grey work trousers.

his lips softly press against the back of your neck and maybe it’s the weed or maybe it’s spite but he can’t help himself, fingers coming down to mess with the waistband of your panties. placing your hand over his to stop him from going any further.

‘we can’t,’ you hush, acutely aware that eddie was just a few doors down and would most certainly hear.

‘we can.. you’ll just have to be quiet,’ murmuring against the back of your neck, your hand doing absolutely nothing to really try and stop him. ‘can you do that for me?’

he travels further down, past the flimsy waistband, feeling his smirk widen against your skin as you sigh softly, sliding your hand onto his forearm, using it for leverage while his middle finger begins to circle your already sensitive clit.

your sex life hadn’t been what it was in the beginning, both of you busy with work and mental health crises that it was now more of a rarity to find the time. it’s not really lost on you as to why steve is so eager for it tonight but you couldn’t help but to feel at least a little turned on by this sudden bout of possessiveness.

your eyes flutter closed as he adds another finger to the equation, letting your body lean back against his bare chest, ‘my god,’ you moan softly, leaving crescent moon shapes indented in his skin.

‘hmm? is that good, baby?’ his plump, pink lips pressing gentle kisses to you neck and shoulders, teeth grazing the agile skin. he’s unforgiving and really not trying to be quiet at all.

it was definitely spite.

you can feel his erect cock against your ass, unknowingly writhing around, brushing up against him. his fingers hastily leave the safety of your now sodden underwear, manoeuvring your body to face him.

‘you’re such an asshole,’ you hush, gripping onto his arms for balance, walked backwards towards the bed.

a menacing smirk plastered on his face as he falls on top of you, knowing full well that eddie could definitely hear your soft pants and the way your lips echoed his name. stevestevesteve.

his fingers are brushing the hair from your face, making sure you were looking at him. it’s disgusting how attractive you find this. steve wasn’t usually one for such outward jealousy but you couldn’t say you hated it. legs wrapping around his torso after he had slipped your underwear off.

you don’t even attempt to conceal the whimper that ripples through your throat when he slides into your cunt. gripping onto his shoulders as the bed begins to creak, headboard knocking into the dry wall, unapologetic with his movements.

completely unashamed.

-

you’re eternally grateful that eddie doesn’t mention anything the next morning though he avoids steve’s eye and keeps his head low until he leaves for work. breathing an almost undetected sigh of relief when the door clicks shut.

the pair of spend most of the day lounging on the couch in front of the television, watching the overdue videos steve had neglected to return. the darkness eventually creeps up on you. the moon shining through the windows.

‘c’mon.. let’s go out,’ eddie nudges your knee with his, a devilish grin plastered across his face. he’d been bored shitless all day, as much as he enjoyed the mundane with you.. he wanted to go out. feel that rush through his veins as you got into something you shouldn’t.

‘i shouldn’t.. i’ve been doing good lately, it’s.. i can’t,’ sinking further into the sofa. you wanted to go out, really. but you and eddie going out alone together was a recipe for disaster.

‘and that’s why you deserve a treat.. c’mon, i know you want to,’ egging you on, now poking your knee with his finger, his other hand gripping onto the warm beer can.

you ponder for a second, pursing your lips as you weigh up the pros and cons. you don’t have to get wasted.. you could go out with eddie and be back before steve got home from work. yeah. you could do that.

‘where?’

eddie’s smile widens, he’d anticipate a hell of a lot more nagging and pleading than this, ‘fucking.. anywhere, the night is young and so are we.’

‘okay.. but, we’re having a normal night.. nothing crazy and i wanna be back here before steve is, got it?’ raising your eyebrows as you down the last sliver of wine.

‘absolutely.. whatever you want,’ eddie chuckles, slapping his knees as he stands from the couch, ‘c’mon.. get dressed.’

you stare up at him for a moment before getting up from the couch and slinking into yours and steve’s room. he wouldn’t be happy about this but if you were home and in bed before he was, he wouldn’t have much to complain about and if he did, he’d get over it.

and hey, maybe you could prove to him that you were okay now. that you were ready and able to handle things on your own.

-

everyone goes absolutely crazy when eddie walks in, almost as if he’d been locked up for a year. there are a few unhappy murmurs, worried onlookers who had been there that night.

but he doesn’t seem to care, shaking hands and chatting to everyone that came up to him. people handing him cups of mystery liquor which eventually got passed onto you.

you’re perched next to him on the couch, drinking the vile tasting liquid without a second thought. the odd person still coming up to him in shock, asking all sorts about what life was like on the inside.

and he just laughs and tell them the same generic story about earning his way and how eventually people listened to him. you doubt much of it is actually true but let him continue nonetheless. what did you know about prison?

bedsides, you’d seen the scars that now littered his knuckles and forearms. how his muscles had grown and the way his nose now bent slightly to the left. he must’ve done something to earn them.

your head is pretty fuzzy the first time the plate full of mystery white powder is passed around. respectfully declining and mumbling about sticking to drink.

but by the second time it comes your way, you’re glancing down at the porcelain with eager eyes. one tiny line couldn’t hurt, right? you still had plenty of time to sober up and get home before steve.

so you pick up the rolled up note, eddie’s eyes watching like a hawk, ‘hey.. you sure?’ his own jaw clenching from his previous line.

‘it’s fine,’ you nod reassuringly, holding one nostril and sniffing the pre-cut line, sniffing harshly. you’d forgotten how much it stung, making your eyes water as you pass the plate onwards.

you sit back into the couch, watching as the conversation roars around you. waiting for that sweet, sweet feeling when it finally hit.

and oh boy, does it.

one second you’re sat on the couch and the next you’re pulling eddie up onto his feet, trying to make him dance along to the pounding music with you. it all sounded so good. your body warm and loose. heart pounding in your chest as the beat vibrates through your limbs.

you’re not sure how long you’re dancing for, keeping your eyes closed while other people start getting up to join you.

not even questioning the second line when it re-emerges. still slowly sipping on what was now a dark liquor, bitter in taste, burning your throat on the way down.

eddie’s hand gingerly touches your waist causing you to pull your eyes to him. he’s dancing too, clutching onto the beer bottle, pupils dilated as they cling to you. cling to your body. moving in time with his.

everything’s a little blurry but you keep your eyes steady on eddie, smiling as the music distorts in your ears. it sounded robotic and weird but still had you wiggling your hips in time with the odd beat.

his other hand meets your waist, more confidently this time, pulling your body towards his. you think nothing of it, focussed on moving in time to the music.

eddie’s hand moves up to cup your cheek, the party bleating on around you as he tips your chin up towards his. a soft smile on his face as your eyes meet his fully.

the next few seconds happen so quickly that you’re not even sure if it actually happened.

his lips crash against yours, pressing himself to your chest, hand clinging to your cheek. he’s desperate with it, hungry and insatiable.

the magic dust you’d just inhaled must have softened your inhibitions because you’re kissing him back. palm pressed against his chest, fingers curling into his t-shirt.

until you finally realise exactly what you’re doing.

pulling yourself away from him, stumbling backwards as you blink up at him. had you actually just kissed him? no, why the fuck had he kissed you?

‘what the fuck are you doing?’ you exclaim, mind still hazy under the influence of whatever narcotics they were passing around.

your stomach twists. steve was probably sat at home waiting for you to get back, worried sick about where you’d gone. all the while you’re kissing his best friend at a party he had no idea was happening. it makes your stomach twist, guilt coursing through your chest.

you back away from eddie, tripping over another party goers outstretched legs as you go. head pounding, hands tingling. everything surrounding you had become a massive blur of flashing lights and distorted faces.

‘fuck.. wait!’ eddie calls out from the living room but you’re already gone, pushing past the gaggle of people in the hallway as you fumble for the doorknob.

the cold air hitting you the second the door is open, you hadn’t brought a jacket. or had you? you can’t really remember.

there are people strewn across the front yard, watching as you stumble down the path, fumbling for your phone in you pocket. the letters all jumble into one as you click through searching for steve's contact. slamming the green button the second you recognise the slight curve of the s.

he answers on the first ring, ‘hello? where are you?’ you’d missed the tens of missed calls from his number.

‘i’m.. i don’t know,’ sobbing into the receiver as one of the onlookers from the party approaches you, ‘where are we?’

from what you can make out, it’s a young girl, she looks worried as she takes the phone from your hand and places it to her ear, telling steve whatever street you were on. her spare hand reaches out to rub your back, keeping you close to her body as steve fucking sprints from your apartment to the address.

eddie makes absolutely zero attempts to try and find you, assuming that you’d already run off home. fuck it, he was out now. might as well prolong the inevitable argument with steve for as long as possible.

when steve arrives, he’s practically frantic, taking you from the kind girl as he leads you off home. his arm keeping your body held upright as you wail the entire way home.

‘steve..’ you sniffle, being guided into the empty apartment, ‘we kissed- eddie kissed me.. i didn’t mean to, i promise,’ clinging onto his neck as you’re lead into your bedroom.

he’s weirdly silent, placing you gently onto the bed, taking off your shoes before sitting down on the edge of the mattress.

‘have you taken anything?’ he questions, choosing to ignore your confession, for his own sanity mostly.

you nod into the pillow, sprawled out on the mattress as the room spins around you. it’s dizzying, and not just the room spinning but the fact that steve was still so gentle even after your admission.

‘what? what d’you take?’

‘i don’t know.. coke i think.’

he nods, swallowing the growing fury in his throat, ‘i’ll get you some water, try and sleep yeah?’

he goes to get up but you’re already grabbing onto his forearm, keeping him firmly on the bed, ‘don’t go.. please,’ your voice hoarse from the party.

god, you thought. you sound utterly pitiful, ashamed that even after all he had done for you, you couldn’t hold your shit together on your own and were still relying on steve.

‘okay,’ he whispers, kicking his shoes off and swinging his legs over and onto the bed, sitting up on the pillows rather than joining you properly.

his arm snakes around your back, lifting your body ever so slightly to slide his arm under, pulling you onto his warm chest. stubbly chin coming to rest atop of your head.

you nestle your head into his cotton shirt, ‘i love you,’ head rising with every breath he took, closing your eyes and attempting to fall asleep despite the fact it felt like there was something stabbing into the side of your brain.

-

steve’s sat, deadpanned on the couch when eddie attempts to creep back in. startled by his presence in the darkened room. by this time, the birds had begun to chirp as the first rays of sunlight crept through the blinds.

‘shit man..’ eddie clutches his chest, ‘you scared me,’ he fumbles his way through the room, still pretty intoxicated, lips sore from chewing on them all night.

steve blinks, scrunching up his face as the other boy takes a seat next to him. eddie’s sure he knows. you had definitely told him. jesus christ, why wouldn’t you? he fucked up. again.

‘you can’t stay here anymore,’ steve states, stoic.

he wasn’t letting much on here. eddie almost wishes he’d just beat his ass and get it over with at least it’d be better than this creepy shit he had going on.

‘bro.. i’m sorry, i was fucked up.. i don’t know what the hell i was doing,’ he’s staring wide-eyed at steve who’s staring straight ahead, jaw tense, ‘shit, punch me if you want.. god knows i’d deserve it.’

‘i don’t care,’ steve presses his tongue to the back of his teeth, ‘you come back and you fuck everything up.. do you know how hard i’ve tried to help her.. all these meds and doctors appointments,’ steve’s shoulder’s slump, ‘fuck man, i even had to take her to this creepy ass therapist and try not to beat the shit out of him every time i dropped her off.. d’you know how hard that was?’ he sounds desperate now, dropping the weird, unsettling facade, turning to eddie with a genuine look of hurt upon his face.

eddie’s mouth opens to reply, but he has nothing to say. hasn’t a clue how to answer that because he didn’t know. yeah, you’d told him about it and how steve hadn’t left your side throughout it all but he had no idea that this was how steve had felt.

‘no,’ steve scoffs, ‘no you don’t know.. because you weren’t there,’ he sighs before continuing, ‘you didn’t have to watch the love of your life be dragged away because some judge had deemed her crazy. you weren’t there week in, week out in that hospital.. helpless.’

steve wouldn’t ever think of you as a burden but fuck, he needed to tell literally anyone the shit he had bottled up and eddie was now the (un)willing participant to catch the brunt of his frustration.

eddie swallows, staring out into the dark room, ‘i didn’t know.. i’m sorry,’ he’s scrambling now, trying to think of something, anything to say that could help, but he can’t. in steve’s eyes, he’s the one who continually seems to ruin shit for you. ruin you.

‘so no, i don’t want to hit you because you kissed my girlfriend but i do want to fucking kill you for coming in here and messing her up all over again,’ steve spits, his words like venom as they hit eddie square in the face.

any traces of intoxication had been pummelled from his body, head beginning to pound from the impending hangover, chest heavy under the weight of steve’s words.

his eyes squeeze shut. he was a fuck up and he knew it. he wasn’t sure why he’d even done it. you just looked so pretty and blissful and.. and you’d smiled at him the way you used to and he’d thought that maybe that had meant something. the few seconds that you’d kissed him back had felt like euphoria, for the first time in so long everything felt right again.

steve interrupts his train of self-pitying thought by standing from the couch, turning to walk away but pauses, ‘i’ll help you find somewhere tomorrow.. maybe nance n’ all will let you stay,’ and even through all of this steve couldn’t help but be kind to the man.

that’s what hit eddie the hardest, that even though he had hurt his best friend.. he was still stood in front of him throwing him a line and offering a sense of patience and understanding that eddie hadn’t felt in far too long.

he watches in silence as steve slinks off to your shared bedroom, head hanging low in utter shame. he’d never admit aloud, and especially not to steve, but the thought of you was the one thing getting him through his sentence.

the first few months were pretty rocky, having to prove himself time and time again, resulting in a multitude of different injuries but at the end of the day, he’d climb into his bunk and re-read the letters you’d sent. thumbing the pages until they were yellowed and worn. the mere thought of you still thinking about him was enough to make him get out of bed each morning.

he peers down at his scarred hands, tracing over the glistening white indentations. they all told their own individual story, the big one that ran across the large part of his hand was the worst after being slashed with a makeshift shiv during a fight. he was quite lucky really, his hand had taken the majority of the damage and had meant he wasn’t left to bleed out on the floor.

so he’d gotten stitches, kept his mouth shut and things had started to change. and yet still, every night he’d go to bed thinking of your face, telling himself that it wasn’t long to go.

you were his saving grace. the only thing that had stopped him slipping into darkness. he’d thought about it plenty, hurting himself or one of the douchebag inmates he shared the small space with. at least that way he’d get moved into solitary, maybe he’d even prove himself to the other guys.

-

you keep quiet when steve comes into your bedroom, unsure of whether to let him know you had practically heard their entire conversation. the mattress dips when he gets into bed, exhaling softly and making sure the blanket is covering both of you.

he sits in silence for a moment, you can feel his eyes burning into your face before he eventually settles in and lies back on the pillow.

‘are you mad at me?’ you squeak, gazing at him from tired eyes.

your voice startles him, so sure that you were still asleep but he answers quickly, ‘no, never,’ turning on his side to face you, inches from your face. it felt so intimate like this, vulnerable.

‘i heard what you said.. i’m sorry for..’ your bottom lip wobbles and you try hard to blink away the brimming tears, ‘for putting you through that.’

he’s immediately comforting you, placing a warm hand on your sodden cheek, ‘you’re okay.. it’s okay, you didn’t do anything,’ steve’s gut twisted, he hadn’t meant for you to hear any of it and the thought of you feeling guilty for eddie’s sake pricked at his heart.

you nod, not completely believing his words but for the sake of not causing a problem so early in the morning, deciding to just accept it. no matter how much it had been parroted to you, there was no accepting that none of this was your fault.

‘it’s just the way your brain is wired,’ dr. foster had said during one of your sessions, ‘but i’m here to make it all better,’ his eyes were narrowed, carefully watching you from his leather chair.

the memory alone makes you shudder, he’d been all for this authentic, organic approach.. hosting the sessions in his home and perhaps at times, becoming a little too familiar. his hand patting your knee as you spoke, asking creepy questions about your relationship with steve and overstepping a shit ton of boundaries. he had these icy blue eyes that lingered on yours for too long, there was something deeply unsettling about the way they narrowed when steve was mentioned. the utter anger they held when you brought up eddie. oh no, he really didn’t like eddie.

he’d been the one to suggest that you slow down with the letters to eddie, telling you that focusing on recovery was more important. it had worked in his favour anyway, the letters becoming the least of your concerns as you navigated recovery.

nonetheless, he didn’t last long. you were still in that mellow adjustment period, getting used to the meds when steve had informed you that dr. foster was no longer going to be your therapist. something about a conflict of schedules but you weren’t sure how true that really was.

-

it had been a few weeks since you’d last seen eddie, unsure of where he was or what trouble he’d gotten himself into. maybe even a minuscule part of you was hoping that he’d got himself arrested, at least that way you’d know he was safe inside and not wrecked in a ditch somewhere.

for the most part, you’d managed to put him to the back of your mind. it was only when things got quiet did you worry about him. deep down, you knew it was for the best. you couldn’t be around him without that niggling voice in the back of your head creeping back up. there was too much history there.

and steve had been so wonderful. you’re not sure you’d ever felt love like this. so transparent and pure, so void of expectations that he could see you at your worst and still be just as content to love you.

it all makes your heart ache, were you enough for steve even when you were like this? he had bore witness to the most horrific times of your life and yet, he’d be there everyday with a smile on his face and an open heart prepared for whatever that day may bring.

he’d taken the day off of work to purely spend it with you. granted, you’d only wanted to sit on the couch and watch a bunch of terrible movies with him but it was good enough. you’re not sure how long you’ve now been on this couch, but you knew it was late as the street lights glimmer that harsh orange through the blinds.

this film has you falling asleep, steve’s pick, obviously. you’d slid down the couch to rest your head on his lap, eyelids weighing heavy as sleep threatens to take over.

until you’re both startled by the incessant banging on the door, fist pummelling into the already brittle wood. your head snaps upward towards steve, pouting at the rude awakening. who on earth could find the need to pound the door at this time?

‘you expectin’ anyone?’ steve asks curiously, sliding your head from his thigh, very cautiously getting off of the couch to answer the door.

‘no? robin, maybe?’ unless robin had turned into a rabid zombie, you were sure it probably wasn’t her on the other side.

steve peers through the peep hole, seemingly taken aback but what or whoever he sees on the other side, ‘shit..’ cursing under his breath as he slides the chain from the door, opening it just slightly.

‘what?’ petrified by his reaction, sitting up on the couch to prepare for the impending insanity on the other side.

‘jesus man.. what are you doing here?’ he’s pushed aside as what looks like one eddie munson barges through the door, gasping for air and looking worse for wear.

he’s clutching his knees, doubled over as he tries to catch his breath, ‘i fucking.. ran the whole way here..’

if you’re being honest, he looks terrible. hair limp as it hangs around his face, clothes dirtied and you can’t see his face properly but you’re sure there’s a shiner of a bruise on his cheek.

‘what are you doing? what’s wrong?’ you fret, swinging your legs over the side of the couch as steve closes the door, bolting it up again in hopes that whatever eddie was running from was not following him.

he exhales before standing up straight, wiping the sweat from his forehead, ‘i need your help.. both of you,’ looking to steve who was stood with his hand on his hip, concerned about the inevitable mess eddie had just welcomed back into your lives.

‘why? where have you been?’

the last you’d heard from him, nancy had, very reluctantly, agreed to let him stay in their couch for a few days until he got himself sorted. but they’d woken up the next morning to find that he was no longer on said couch, not a trace of him left behind. he was completely unreachable, no phone, no idea where he had escaped off to and absolutely no one had seen or heard from him.

initially it had been a frenzy to try and find him until you collectively realised that he didn’t want to be found this time. and you had to mourn him all over again.

‘steve, d’you still know how to make fakes?’ completely ignoring your question, blinking at a puzzled steve.

your eyes flit to steve, unaware that he apparently had a history in counterfeit goods. perhaps a crucial bit of information he’d glossed over there.

‘not anymore.. what the fuck do you need that for?’

‘you know anyone that does? i’m desperate man.. i- i’ll pay,’ eddie pants, ‘name your price,’ chest heaving as he stands in the middle of your living room. he felt out of place here now, stuck out like a sore thumb.

steve ponders for a second, ‘uhh.. i dunno, maybe.. what’ve you done?’ sighing softly.

‘i need to leave the country.. i fucked up.. big time,’ eyes flitting to you with a certain sadness. even now, he didn’t want to disappoint you yet it seemed to be all he could do.

‘what’ve you done?’ you press, chewing on the inside of your cheek. mind running to the worst possibly conclusion. murder wasn’t out of the equation if you were honest.

eddie runs a dirtied, ringed hand over his face, ‘you know how i’m kinda s’posed to be in jail right now?’ it was already glaringly obvious that he hadn’t been released early.

‘yeah..’

‘well, i uh- i paid some guys off, they said they could get me out.. get me away from here,’ only now is he realising how fucking stupid that sounded.

‘eddie.. what?’ you exclaim, astonished by the sheer stupidity he constantly displayed. you’d thought that maybe he’d have learnt something from jail, that was the point of it, wasn’t it? learn from your mistakes and better yourself.

‘look, it doesn’t matter.. they’re asking for more money and i don’t have it,’ he says exasperated, ‘i need to disappear.. just for a little while, til they forget about it,’ eyes steady on you, as if to seek your approval.

you blink, where was he even planning to go? were you just never going to see him again?

‘i can’t get you outta the country but.. i might have a friend that can help,’ steve’s voice pipes up, tearing your eyes from eddie to look at him.

‘how?’ you exclaim, wondering what other things he had kept secret from you.

‘my friend’s out in california.. i think he’d put you up there,’ nodding at eddie, he probably didn’t deserve this kindness but steve couldn’t just leave him stranded. there was too much history to ever turn his back on his friend, even now, after everything, he was still holding his hand out for eddie.

‘that’d be.. fuck, that’d be.. good,’ eddie nods along, appreciative of anything you could do for him. turning to meet your gaze once more.

he knows this is it.

there wasn’t any coming back from this. no next time. it was california or it was death. and he sure as shit wasn’t a fan of the second option.

you think, deep down, that you know it too.

the likelihood of seeing him again is next to nothing. if he didn’t get himself killed, he’d certainly never be coming back here. this wasn’t for him, never had been really. well, maybe once upon a time when you looked at him without that sadness in your eye it had been.

when he thought back to it, he was sure the he knew you’d never loved him, he’d just been pretending for so long that his mind had played tricks on him, made him believe it. that’s why he’d lashed out that night, he’d convinced himself that you were in love with him. but you weren’t, and his heart had realised that fact quicker than his head had.

steve disappears into your bedroom in search of his phone, leaving you two alone in the living room. everything you want to say stays unsaid. heavy as it lingers between you. there’s not really much you can say in this moment that wouldn’t make things worse.

instead, you just nod.

as if to say that he could go. he could let you go.

eddie understands. but he’s not sure he ever will.

[heartthrobin]

paint my sunset peach (1)

mechanic!eddie munson x farmgirl!reader

wc: 6.71k

warnings: reader is a little bit of a meanie, dirty sweaty eddie, hella pining, sunshine!eddie + grumpy!reader, swearing but otherwise pretty wholesome, limited use of y/n

an: i started writing this literally months ago and only finished it recently, super duper proud of it :))) this will be part one of a (probably) three part series. let me know if you want a tag in part 2 !!! i tried to tag all those who liked this post so thanks for the support - love you all <33

summary: the conveyer belt of mech-heads you dealt with on a weekly basis were nothing more than a side-show annoyance. but god, the auto-shop had never sent one with such round, wet brown eyes before.

part two

Before the auto-shop, on the corner at the intersection of Lovett and Harwood, was a Chinese restaurant.

The Red Lotus.

On Friday nights as a kid, daddy would drive into town and return with a steaming white bag of fried rice and dumplings. Sometimes, when they had in stock, he'd bring a single mooncake to share between him and you.

It was family run, the Zhou's. Three sons and a daughter.

They closed down right after you graduated, tired of the middle of nowhere-ness. The tractors rumbling loudly through town at six o' clock every morning, the shaky cell reception and the incessant knock of evening frogs on the porch.

Tired of butt-fuck nowhere Tennessee.

It stood empty for two years. Sometimes you'd pass it in your truck and remember them, other times you wouldn't even look.

But now, now it stood as a brand new garage. Or at least the tiny town's excuse for "brand new".

Daddy's friend, Mister Carl Abernathy, owned it.

He was a short stocky man, bald all over and you'd never seen him without a cold bottle of cider and the remnants of it’s sweat staining down his creased button-up.

You knew that only because he was always around: lots of things on the farm needed fixing up.

Weeds crept up into the tires of the tractors, age beat at the truck you used to move in and out of town - crates of peaches bouncing jovially over each bump.

Every time they needed a looking at, Carl would send over the bonehead of the week.

The same white pull-up would brake loudly outside the farmhouse door, always somewhere around nine: just in time to disturb your breakfast, and one of his latest recruits would hop out.

They’d lean haughtily against the large wheel of the dying blue tractor.

"Well, looks like we've got a problem on our hands here, hey little missy?"

They weren’t even worth the effort it took to roll your eyes. No shit.

The farm didn't make nearly enough from the weekend markets in bigger nearby towns, or the pennies of the townsfolk to afford new vehicles. So, you stuck it out with each caveman Carl sent your way.

And you were fine with it.

Mostly fine with it.

Sure, some of them were vulgar: they'd whistle at you or comment on your ass when you passed them working. Others could only succeed at making the vehicle worse than when they'd started, but it was your job to sort them out.

Could you have gone off with your high school friends to college? Sure.

Maybe.

But that’d leave Daddy all alone in that big house. You pushed away the thought when it surfaced to bug you.

Your mother had disappeared long before you knew her, exhausted - like the Zhou's - of being nowhere.

Maybe of being no one. Perhaps of being a no one peach farmer with the grump that was your daddy and a toddler zooming at her feet.

Either way, it didn't matter.

She had left and you remained to do the job, and that job included dealing with Carl’s mechanics.

At least it hadn't mattered, not until some morning in late summer.

The sun watched from high over the green farmhouse. It glared down, peeking over the edge of the porch.

You were fixed on the bird pecking at the already deteriorating grey window pane above the sink, overlooking the rows of colourful fields.

"You're messing, Cherry."

Cherry. Daddy had been calling you that since as far back as you could remember him talking.

You glanced at him across the table, where the spread of bread, eggs and jam had been lain, before you noticed where a long stripe of strawberry jam had run down the front of your black tank top.

"Listen now, you're gonna be fine with the tractor today?"

His voice was stern - probably too stern for such an hour of the morning, but you hardly noticed - swiping at the jam with your finger and nodding.

"No problems, alright?"

Daddy usually worked the tractor, but he was going to some meeting two towns over. He hadn't mentioned what about, but you were sure it had to do with the crippling financial state of the farm.

You nodded.

It's how you found yourself alone out in the heat of the midday sun.

The tractor rumbled beneath you, joggling over every rock and mole hill.

Every couple meters, you'd stop: climb off and pick at the peaches before tossing them into the crate. When enough crates were full, you'd load them onto the truck and move again.

You'd been at it, burning over your arms and shoulders, for what couldn’t have been more than a few hours when the tractor gave a sickening jolt.

Gripping the wheel and watching in horror over the edge of your sunglasses, your eyes followed the thick cloud of grey smoke where it began seeping out at the edges of the hood and disappearing up into the sky.

"No, no, no ..." you drew up the handbrake and leapt out the side onto the soil. The blue metal scalded the tips of your fingers where you threw the bonnet open before swallowing down mouthfuls of hot smoke.

It took five minutes of coughing against the side of the vehicle, another five kicking at the left wheel and at least another ten swearing at the sky before you dug your phone out from between the seats and dialled the number to Carl's auto shop.

It rung three times before his gruff voice carried across the line, "Abernathy Auto Repairs speakin', hello?"

"Good morning Mr Abernathy," your fingers pressed into the sides of your temple, working fruitlessly against the headache forming there. "I'm calling from the farm down Jasmine road—"

"Oh hey there, darlin'. What can I do you for?"

A squirrel rustled somewhere down the row of bushes. "Well, I'm out in the field now and the tractor has ... uh, given up on me. The ‘63. Need one of your men to come give it a start, or a look-over or—"

"Not a problem, not a problem at all. Are you far out? Whereabouts are you?"

You cupped a hand to shield up over your eyes, glancing back from whence you'd came. The house was but a speck of green in the distance.

"About two or three miles north west of the house?"

You could practically hear him nodding, a steady gulp audible against the line.

"Don't you worry about a thing, little darlin', I'll have one of my boys out there within the hour. Just hang tight."

"Alright, thank you kindly sir—"

But the line was already dead.

You glared at the phone.

Huffing loudly, you pulled yourself back up onto the truck - allowing the soft shade to gently graze over your face as you sunk back into the seat.

The warm wind rippled over the tops of the rows of greenery and you watched quietly, the irritation simmering to a low boil in your chest.

There was a quiet tranquility in being so far out from the house, shielded from the scorch.

Your boot tapped rhythmically against the console. Warm breeze brushed over your face again and you sighed, tilting your hat lower over your forehead. The lull of the quiet field allowed your lashes to fan closed over your cheeks. Before you’d taken note of the bird coming to perch on the roof, you were already asleep.

It was the loud rumble of an engine and the throbbing pain in your neck that brought you back to the world of the conscious.

You woke with a jump. Heart thumping against your ribcage in instant confusion. Your hat flew off your head and over the edge of your seat from where it had been blocking the light over your eyes.

Bringing a hand to your neck you whined loudly, the angle you’d been perched at doing nothing for the long term preservation of your muscles there.

You turned anyways, noticing the white pick-up quickly nearing from the direction of the house.

Frowning, you glanced down at time against the console. Three fifty-eight.

"Shit!"

You stuck your head out from under the shade of the tractor top to notice how low the sun has sunk in the sky. It was almost reaching the head of the hill in the distance.

The mechanic shouldn't have taken longer than an hour to find you, and subsequently, wake you. You quickly diffused yourself of blame.

Daddy was going to kill you.

Clambering off the side of the tractor, your hands found your hips before the car pulled to a wailing halt barely a few centimetres off from your knees.

Dust swept up around the truck, obscuring the view of the man that stepped out of it.

"Woah. Almost hit you there, doll."

Warm wind cleared the air and the figure of a young man stood in your field.

The words sitting on your tongue begging to be spat out were sucked straight back down your throat.

For a moment you forgot what you had planned to say at all.

The man's eyebrow cocked at you under strands of dark, curly hair falling carelessly from the skew bun atop his head.

Behind you, a crow cried in the distance. Your senses quickly returned to you.

Your fists tightened at your sides. "Where on god's green earth have you been?"

He looked taken aback.

"Well, I had some trouble finding the house," he smiled sheepishly, motioning to the farmhouse over his shoulder, "and then I had to phone Carl cause he didn't really tell me where—"

"So you're new then? Carl sent a greenie to come fix my tractor?"

Anyone who'd spent more than three days in town knew the farm down Jasmine road. Knew your farm.

A heavily ringed hand came up to his jaw, rubbing there and eyeing you in a way that made the hair on your arms stands straight up.

It was painfully unfair how handsome he was.

"New to town. Not new to fixing tractors." His voice was smooth, the curl of a grin peaking at you from the edge of his mouth.

Sucking in a deep breath - a feeble attempt at composure - you nodded once.

"Well, I've got a tractor and it's broken. And you're two hours late, so if you don't mind, I've got a job to do."

You turned violently on your heel, sure if you stood under his gaze any longer that you'd melt right against the soil.

The sound of the peaches tumbling out the crate onto the tractor split the air between you and him, and soon you were marching away from his figure - crate in hand - in pursuit of fruit further down the lane.

"I'm Eddie!"

You waved vaguely over your shoulder, electing not to bless him with an answer.

Carl was going to hear an earful from your father, you were sure of it. You plucked angrily at the fruits off the bush, tossing them a little too violently in with the rest.

It was quiet from the distance behind you, but you refused to turn to look.

Sure, you shouldn't be so surprised that one of Carl's idiots was nearly two hours late and got lost in a town that really only has two roads, but god, he'd never sent one with such round, wet brown eyes before.

The walk was long, each stop causing the crate to become heavier, and you worked hard to put the image of the mechanic’s black shirt - that he'd obviously cut the sleeves off himself - and how it clung to his chest with sweat out of your mind.

You didn't stop until a voice called from behind. At first it was soft, but it grew louder within a minute: as was the sound of footfalls.

"Hey, miss!"

He was jogging towards you, pieces of hair falling recklessly out from the grips of his hair tie to frame his red face.

Eddie only stopped when barely a few feet separated you.

"All done." He grinned, huffing around his smile. "She just overheated a bit, needed some water and a a couple valves disconnected."

You couldn't tell whether it was harder to hold his gaze or work to keep yours off of his chest.

"Right. Good." You nodded, leaning to lift the crate at your feet. "Then I'll be getting back to it."

It was heavy, almost too heavy if you hadn't lifted boxes like those from sunrise to sunset for the last eighteen or so years.

But the mechanic was clearly unconvinced, he swooped in closer to you. "Let me get that—"

"I'm fine—"

"No really." By now he was way too close, close enough that you could smell the undertones of a shower gel or maybe a cologne.

His voice softened, "Please. To make up for my tardiness."

It was hard to tell whether it was the sun making you so dizzy or his proximity, but either way, it forced you to nod slowly. "Fine."

Eddie took the crate from your hands, you ignored the rush of heat to your stomach as he grunted against the weight.

"Strong thing aren't you, doll?"

You didn't respond, eyes fixed on the giant blue tractor a couple meters from where you stood.

Silence rung, only the footfalls filling the space. You'd almost made it all the way back to the tractor without conversation before the mechanic decided to open his mouth again.

"I don't think I caught your name earlier."

You met his eyes, regretting it almost immediately when your knees threatened to buckle, "That's because I never gave it."

Stepping just close enough to take the crate from his grip, but avoid the drift of his cologne again, your hands brushed closely against his.

They were cool against your sweaty ones.

He was grinning again.

You stepped back, balancing the peaches against your hip before tilting it over the box attached to the end of the tractor allowing the round pink pieces to clatter down into its depths.

"Right. Well, what's your name then doll?"

But you were already clambering back up the side of the tractor into the worn leather seat.

"Wouldn't you like to know, pretty boy."

He was leaning against the side of the truck now, you avoided looking down at him, something told you that you'd find those eyes blinking right up into your soul again if you did.

"So you think I'm pretty?"

Hot red blush chased up the sides of your neck over your ears, you prayed it wasn't discernible under the pink sunburn.

The keys jingled loudly as you slid them into the ignition and turned them violently. The vehicle jerked to life.

"I think your job is done. Good afternoon sir."

Before he could say another word, your foot had sunk down on the accelerator and the tractor was rumbling back down between the bushes again.

In your peripheral vision you watched how the mechanic stumbled back against his pick-up, narrowly avoiding catching his foot under one of the hundred pound tires, and the sound of an echoing chuckle fading as you plodded away.

-

The drive back to the auto-garage was quick. At least quicker than the drive Eddie had taken to find the farm.

His hands tightened around the wheel, twisting over the leather as he pulled to a park in the open spot across the street.

A ring of brown soil stared up at him from where he'd pulled at the handbrake with dusty paws.

"Shit ..." he wiped his hands down the jean over his thighs.

Eddie was used to the oil and the reek of grease, as if that wasn't already enough, but not the itch of farm soil up his nostrils and behind his ears.

He twisted the metal ring around his finger, a small grin playing at his lips.

But the soil wasn't so bad, he reckons he'd swim through a pool of it it to get another chance to watch the hot-tempered farm girl's hips sway when she marched away from him, just as you'd done earlier that afternoon.

The smile didn't leave his face as he climbed out the car, locked it and crossed the street whistling.

Eddie was almost completely used to the whir of the drills echoing off the walls and barely registered the creak of the lever that was raising a car near the back of the shop.

Carl was leaning over the reception desk clinking the bottom of his cider bottle against the wood and puffing on the end of a cigarette.

He waved vaguely down at the open ledger when he noticed Eddie nearing, "See here, extra two hundred dollars on a cheap fucking knock off for that AMC Eagle. You believe that, Munson?"

"Hardly, boss."

Eddie was halfway back to where he'd abandoned the engine on a red convertible before weaving across town to find a farm when the boss' voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Hold it, hold it. Where’ve you been? Didn't I send you outta here three hours ago?" He swivelled on the bar stool against the counter to face him.

The greasy palm that had been picking it's way under car hoods all afternoon reached up to rub against the side of his neck. "I couldn't find that fucking farm, did three circles ‘round the post office before I saw the sign for Jasmine road."

Carl surveyed him with a crooked brow. "They didn't teach you to read maps down in Indiana, boy?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." He was about to turn back on his way, when the picture of your face glimmered at him behind his eyes, "Listen boss, the girl there. The daughter you said, what's her name?"

By then, Carl had already turned back down to the accounts. "What's it to ya?"

Silence rung long enough that Carl peeked back up at Eddie over the rim of his glasses.

Eddie shrugged bashfully. "Pretty thing."

Carl threw his head back, laughing loudly - Eddie always thought his laugh sounded like a dog barking.

"I've seen that look." He shook his head, lifting to perch his glasses on his shining bald head. "Too many of you boys come back from that farm starry-eyed. No hope with that princess, she don't like you mech-heads. Nope, not one bit."

"Ah, come on, don't you believe in love at first sight?"

Carl let off another crumbly chuckle, "Bit your head off, didn't she?"

"Sure did." He beamed like the cat that caught the canary, "Love it when a lady talks to me sweet."

A sweaty hand shrugged him off.

"Get back to work, Munson."

But Eddie wavered. "Just a name, boss."

Carl stared at him for a couple moments, clearly bored. It took a long slug of the yellow cider and a hard sigh before he spoke again: "Y/n."

The grin crept back up his cheeks. He tested the name on his tongue, finding it to taste as sweet as he knew it would.

"Appreciate it."

"Get back to that convertible before I fire you."

-

Eddie the mechanic had been firmly put out of your mind following the ruckus out in the field.

Sure, his puppy dog face had returned to you later that night as you lay in bed, but that hardly counted.

You'd forgone mentioning his tardiness to Daddy, electing to take the mild scolding instead.

By the time the end of the week had arrived, you'd just about completely forgotten the floppy haired man that had once graced the farm.

That was until Daddy rose the topic of the auto-body shop again.

He handed you the wet plate, you took it carefully - starting to wipe it down. The water sloshed beneath his hands, scrubbing hard at the soapy pan.

Bullseye watched up at you from where she was curled up on the kitchen chair, purring loudly. Outside the sky was turning deep lilac and the crickets were clicking loudly.

"Tomorrow on your way back from Madeline's, I want you to stop by Carl's."

Madeline's was the local - and only - grocer. You dropped five cases there every Tuesday.

Your hand stilled against the plate, "For?"

"I want you to ask him to spare a man, a good one. Just a couple afternoons a week to do some work."

Your father handed the next plate over carefully.

Confusion tugged at your brow, "Work? What work?"

"You're too curious for your own good, y'know that?"

Bumping your shoulder against his, the pot lid almost slipping from his wet fingers, you laughed. "Don't be difficult, what for?"

The old man sighed.

Some nights, with the evening hue seeping in through the window against his face like it was just then, you were reminded of how old he really was.

"I want to fix up the Cobra."

In the barn around the back of the house, sitting untouched and unmoved for almost twenty years, lived a 1965 AC Cobra.

The steel lid slipped from your hands, clattering against the floor. Your father jumped.

"You're fixing the Cobra!" You grabbed him by the arm, eyes wide in delight. "Is it for me?"

He offered a half-hearted stern look at you, leaning to pick up the lid before straightening out.

"Don't get too excited, she's a real piece of work and we don't know if she can even still be revived."

You tugged at the edge of his shirt, "But ... it's for me, right?"

"Well, your twenty-first is coming up and I thought you're old enough now—"

Just about strangling him, your arms flew up over his neck.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you—!"

He sighed over your shoulder, patting your back with a wet hand. “Alright, alright. Just speak to Carl.”

-

Your drop-off at Madeline's had never gone faster.

Town was busy, as busy as it got on a Tuesday morning, and Abernathy's was no different.

You pulled into a spot down the line of other nearly identical pick-ups to your own in front of the shop.

At the front desk, where you were sure he'd grown roots into the stool behind it, sat Carl Abernathy.

When he looked up from a piece he'd been tinkering with, surprise twisted at his features.

"G'morning darlin'," he set the piece down, puffing around a lit cigarette, "What can I do you for on this fine morning?"

"Good morning sir," you set your hat on the counter, leaning beside it. "My daddy sent me, he's asking if you could spare a man for some work 'round by ours. Couple nights a week."

The little man's eyes screwed at you.

"What, may I ask, will he be expected to do?"

By then you couldn't stifle the grin any longer.

"He's gonna be fixing the Cobra."

The response seemed to delight the man as much as it did yourself, because he laughed loudly and slammed a hand down against the wooden desk.

"Your old man finally found some sense, hey?" He jeered, "I'm mighty pleased to here that, little miss, I really am."

You smiled, "It's my birthday gift. Twenty-first coming up."

"Twenty-one, hey? Well, I've got just the boy. Don't you worry your pretty little head about it."

Carl leaned dangerously back on the stool, you fleetingly wondered how he didn't topple over, before yelling over his shoulder into the depths of the shop.

"Munson! Get your up-to-no-good-ass over here!"

Not to say that you'd completely forgotten him, but you were still more than a little taken aback when the tall framed mechanic from a few days before emerged from under the hood of a pick-up.

"Boss—?" His eyes found you. They lit up like main street over Christmas. "Oh, what a pleasant surprise. Morning, doll."

Grease covered every inch of his arms up to his elbows which held the scrunched up ends to the black long sleeve he was wearing. He was dirtier than last you saw him and it made your stomach swoop dangerously.

"Him?" It slipped out before you had time to catch it.

But Carl didn't comment on your rudeness, instead he slapped a heavy hand over Eddie's shoulder and shook it.

"For sixty's models, this is your boy for the Cobra." The older man beamed at him, like he was telling you his son was a heart surgeon. "Hands like a magician I tell you."

The comment sent a icy chill down the back of your spine, it wasn't helped when the mechanic snapped a wink at you from under his boss' hand.

"R-Right, well, you can come by as soon as you want to start working. A couple hours a day, my daddy will pay you."

With his hair clipped back, you could make a clearer assessment of his face as he nodded to you. He had thick lips and a strong-set nose.

"I'll see you tomorrow then, doll."

The cheekiness in his grin was plucking at a nerve behind your eyebrow. "Think you'll be able to find your way this time?"

"I think I'll be fine." His hands sunk into the depths of his jean pockets, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Left at the butchery and right down the road to my heart."

You scoffed, turning back to Carl. "Thanks Mr Abernathy. I'll let my old man know."

Not even sparing Eddie another glance, you grabbed your hat off the counter and turned on your heel back to the car.

He watched your hair sway under the press of the brown hat and where your wide shoulders glistened in the light beneath the straps of your overalls.

Only when the sound of your engine had disappeared down the street, did he turn back to Carl who was digging the end of a screwdriver into a metal plate.

"You're really an old romantic aren't you, boss."

Carl grumbled, waving a dismissive hand at him.

Eddie shook his head, chuckling delightedly, "Psh, "sixty's models"! As if Jacob couldn't get that Cobra running in a couple days."

Pulling another cider noisily out from the cooler he kept at his feet, Carl guffawed. "I sure hope it's gonna take you more than a few days, lover boy, cause that little miss doesn't seem too fond 'a you I can tell you now."

But Eddie wasn't fazed, "Don't worry, she will be."

-

Sure as the sun rose in the sky, two o' clock rolled around the next afternoon and a noisy white pick-up pulled into park in front of the green farmhouse.

"Cherry! The mech's here!"

You'd grumbled, reluctantly pulling yourself out from where you'd been perched under the cool shade of the back porch repainting worn pots.

Eddie was standing lost in the driveway when you found him.

He was dirty, obviously just from the shop, and you offered something short of a warm welcome, but he seemed unfazed.

"Car's in the barn 'round the back of the house."

"Well good afternoon to you too, miss." You wondered if his smirk had been permanently stitched there.

The toolbox rattled with each step he took after your pacing figure.

As promised, the barn stood nearly as tall as the house in a faded orange hue.

It was dark inside and the door creaked loudly where you'd swung it open.

There she sat in all her glory. The 1965 AC Cobra, in a fitting cherry red.

Eddie whistled lowly over your shoulder behind you.

"A damn shame hiding this beaut up in this dusty barn." He passed you, running his hand over the bonnet that glimmered even in the low light.

We can agree on one thing at least, you thought.

"I've got to go finish up," you motioned over your shoulder, "but, uh, if you need anything I'll be around. Just shout."

You'd already caught the edge of the door, halfway out, when his voice stopped you in your tracks.

"And what is it exactly that I should I shout, doll? Seeing as you still haven't told me your name."

You surmised him, considering only momentarily letting your name spill off your lips.

Hm. Not today.

"Doll works just fine, greenie."

Finishing off the pots was easy, quick. They stood lined up against the bannister drying while you busied yourself in the vegetable patch behind the house: twisting carrots and beetroots out from the dark soil as the sun sunk slowly lower in the sky.

The time had hardly occurred to you when the back door swung open, your father sticking his one foot down the step.

Keys to the pick-up dangled in his hand.

"Cherry, I'm running to Madeline's for some wood glue and another bag of nails. Need anything?"

Swiping an itch on your forehead with the back of your hand, wiping a long black stripe there, you shook your head. "Nothing."

"Right," he nodded and the door was already halfway shut when he tossed it open again. "Oh, and go make that boy a bite to eat. Damn skinny thing's been in that hot barn for hours now."

You sagged your shoulders childishly, voice coming out as a whine. "Must I really?"

"Yes, you must really."

And he was gone.

The fridge was a ghost town, spare for the never-ending supply of fruit and vegetable that lived in the bottom drawer.

Following five minutes of pursing your lips and staring into its depths, you conjured up a lettuce, cucumber tomato and sweet-chilli sandwich. It didn't take long to convince yourself into making another to satiate your own complaining stomach.

You hummed as you worked, pouring cool lemonade into two glasses, packing the food back into the fridge and rinsing off the butter knife.

The tall clock chimed jovially from the hallway when you shuffled out the back, two plates and two glasses in hand.

Your hip nudged open at the barn door and a wave of sweltering heat rushed over your face and between every tendril of hair on your head.

Blinking foggily into the dim sauna that was the barn, you were met with the only slightly browned back of one Eddie Munson.

The man was hunched over, head lost in the depths of the car's stomach and when he straightened out you just about swallowed your tongue.

His long black mane was in a messy ponytail at the base of his neck and his shirt had been abandoned somewhere by the right tire. Sweat was sliding down the side of his face like an open faucet.

"Hey," he smiled when he met your eyes, voice groggy and tired. The sound made the plates wobble under your grip.

"Hi—" you cringed internally, it was the most pleasant greeting you'd offered him so far. Why had it come out so ... awkward?

You motioned down to the plates, as if his eyes hadn't already found them. "I made you a sandwich ... didn't know if you were hungry or—"

The wrench flew from his grip down into the box where he tossed it and Eddie sighed. "Starving."

You handed him the plate, watching how his blackened fingers stained the edge of the plate and the rim of the glass.

He sat carefully down against an empty crate that had been abandoned by the wall, resting the glass by his feet and wiping his hands down the length of his thighs.

"Hot as hell in here." The mechanic mumbled before diving into the sandwich.

Letting his head fall back against his shoulders, he moaned loudly.

"This is fucking delicious." He commented around the mouthful.

You worked hard to swat away the blush reaching at your cheeks by nodding quickly. That sound would probably ring in your head all night.

"I should go—"

"You're not gonna eat here? I don't mind ..." Eddie eyed the sandwich you'd made for yourself in your hand, gaze flickering between the plate and your face.

Your mouth curled around a response, but you were beat to the chase.

"I know you probably mind," he interjected quickly, "but if you w-want company, I mean, you could eat here ..."

Pursing your lips, you surveyed him: long gangly legs spilling in every direction and rings clinking against the glass.

Would it really kill you to sit five minutes with him?

"No need to turn red, greenie." You resigned, kicking over another crate near the grate of the car before leaning down to perch against it. "I don't mind."

It was quiet for the first couple minutes. You focused on your sandwich, feeling his gaze flicker up to you every few minutes.

He'd practically inhaled the first half of the sandwich, but you noticed he was eating the second half slowly.

"So," he swallowed down a gulp of lemonade. "What were you busy with now before I forced you into sitting here with me?"

You picked at a cucumber that had fallen loose from your sandwich, teasing at the outer skin with your teeth.

"Very important work." Your lip curled at the corners, it seemed he noticed. "Fate of the farm depended on it. Guess now it'll have to crash and burn ..."

"Oh yeah? Enlighten me."

His amused look matched yours.

"Pulling carrots out the patch."

He leaned back, eyes widening theatrically. "Sounds exhilarating."

"You have no idea."

You bit into your sandwich again, finding the space suddenly more comfortable.

"Tell me," he pulled off a piece of tomato hanging dangerously off the edge of the sandwich, "How does a car this beautiful find it's way onto a farm in the middle of nowhere?"

Your chest pinched at the question.

"Y'know, just ..." you motioned vaguely towards the roof, "Aliens."

He caught how your gaze flickered from his to a loose bolt near your foot.

Okay, sensitive spot.

The bread was soft between Eddie's fingers, he set it down.

"I thought I saw some funny lights in the sky last night."

It was becoming almost impossible to keep his eyes off you, even for a couple seconds at a time.

You only nodded at his response, refusing to lift your gaze from the floor.

It was making his stomach churn, desperate for a couple more minutes to enjoy the view of your face.

There was a smudge of brown soil against your forehead where your hair fell over it, making his hands twitch in his lap, itching to reach out and swipe at your sun-kissed face.

"Just you and the old man then?" He pressed, reaching for his glass again.

You shrugged, "Couple creatures of the earth too. And the peaches, of course. Always the peaches."

"Peaches are good."

"Peaches are good."

"No boyfriend then?"

It slipped out of him before he had chance to catch it. He'd been dying to know since the second your figure had appeared to him beyond the cloud of dust out in the field.

You took your sweet time, examining him over the rim of your glass. He couldn't tell whether you intended to respond to him at all.

The weight of your gaze was making his head spin.

"'A course I have a boyfriend. Nights on a big farm like this get lonely without someone to warm the other side of the bed. Y'know?"

Eddie's heart sunk into his stomach.

The sandwich had suddenly lost it's appeal. He set the last couple bites by his feet. He nodded slowly.

"... Can imagine."

Blood was rushing past his ears loudly, he could feel it pooling around his cheeks: warming his face with embarrassment.

"He's actually around if you want to meet him?"

"Uh—" Eddie couldn't even formulate a half of a response before your head was thrown back over your right shoulder:

"Cowboy! Baby!"

Cowboy?

There was a thick confused silence where he wasn't entirely sure who or even if anyone would march through the door - he mostly hoped that you'd been lying and nobody was coming at all.

"Baby!" You called again.

Then he heard it.

The fall of footsteps. Someone was running towards the barn and getting quickly closer.

From out of the sunshine, bounding through the door, Eddie made out the shape of the largest dog he'd ever seen.

Four long gangly legs carried him across the small space, tongue swinging over the side of his jaw: he'd appeared so quickly that Eddie didn't have a moment to prepare before the hound leapt excitedly into his lap.

"Hey, boy—!"

He toppled back over the crate and the dog licked hungrily at the sauce around the edges of his mouth, he nudged Eddie's face with his giant snout before spotting the last few bites of the sandwich left abandoned and scooped it up in one long lick.

The distraction of the food offered Eddie the opportunity to sit straight up again, he could feel the hay tangling into the depths of his hair - but the thought dissolved when he picked up the sound you were making.

You were laughing.

The sound was making him drunk, he was sure of it.

It was made worse when he looked at you: head tilted to the side, leaning at the wall and calling the dog breathlessly between giggles.

Eddie could feel the tiny birds flying in circles over his head and his pupils turning to hearts.

"Cowboy, leave the man's food!"

But the sandwich was long gone and the dog had apparently lost interest in sniffing at the empty plate, returning to licking wet stripes up the side of Eddie's face.

"Sorry, he's just a pup." Your face had softened, giggles bubbling down to a sigh. "Hasn't grown into all his manners yet."

"A pup?" Eddie mumbled in disbelief, catching Cowboy behind his ears with a tickle.

Like a magic button, the dog collapsed into a puddle by his feet: panting loudly.

"Kinda looks like your boyfriend likes me more than you."

You leaned against your knees, head shaking. "I'm feeling a little betrayed that he hasn't even looked in my direction yet."

"It's my natural charm, what can I say. Attracts animals of all species."

Scoffing loudly, you shook your head. "Keep the traitor then. We'll see how long he lasts without me feeding him spoonfuls of peanut butter under the table."

Eddie briefly wondered how big of table existed in the kitchen beyond the window of the farmhouse to fit the monstrous animal at his feet.

"Aw, then who would keep you warm on cold farm nights ..." he flashed a toothy smile, "Winter is just around the corner after all."

"Well, in that case," you tilted your head back in false concentration, lifting your hand to count on your fingers: "There's Bullseye, the cat ... Rodeo, the other cat. A couple stray dogs sometimes walk in off the fields, maybe we could adopt a goat?"

Cowboy was watching you with his head in Eddie's lap, Eddie tilted his head innocently to the side. "No one else?"

"Nope ... none that come to mind."

You were smiling at him now, mischief curled into the edges of your mouth.

It was turning his insides to a molten pool of goo.

"Is that a smile I see?" He tried his luck. "Did I make you smile? Is a comet about to hit the state of Tennessee?"

You turned your head quickly, working to wipe the expression off your face, but not entirely succeeding.

Instead you stood up.

"Whatever, greenie." Leaning down to pick up your plate, Eddie was briefly exposed to the view down the front of your dungarees. He blushed again. "Don't you have work to do?"

Crossing the space quickly, you grabbed his plate from beneath one of Cowboy's pot-sized paws before clicking your tongue at the dog.

He clambered back onto his feet like a new-born deer, clearly still not entirely sure what to do with so much leg.

"I'll see you later then, doll?"

But you didn't turn back, disappearing into the light of the sun with Cowboy trotting at your heels.

"Maybe in your dreams tonight, pretty boy."

-

tags: 

@jokersgrf @anicosa-ironlung @sleepy-bunnie @pricelessemotion @sweetgladiatorfesival @eggo-segual​ @m1rkw00dpr1ncess @introvertedmouse @ctrlaltdel3te @multifandom-l0ver @inarinine @sillysteveharharhar @buckystwilight @hey-lucille 

[wolfjackle-creates]

WIP Wednesday

So I'll be sharing a snippet from a different fic today! If I share anymore of Bring Me Home, I may as well just post the entire first chapter. (Which, I will be looking for a new job and hopefully moving in 2 months or so, so I'll probably try and start posting after that. Get another chapter or two written in the meantime.)

This fic is also from a prompt that was submitted by @regonold to @stealingyourbones. I did part of a collab fill previously, but the idea has been living in my mind rent free and I couldn't help but want to take it on more fully. I've written 5.5k and this snippet is just under 900 words.

----------

The formal gardens beyond the iron gate filled Danny with dread. Vlad’s mansion had looked like this, too. But Jazz had promised him, over and over again, that the Waynes were nothing like the Fruit Loop while begging him to come. Besides, he’d spent weeks making sure his schedule was clear and making deals to prevent any interruptions. No backing out now. With a sigh, he pressed the button for the intercom.

“Good evening, may I ask your business?” asked a man with a British accent.

“Um, yeah. Good evening.” Why was it so much harder to communicate with other people as human Danny than ghost Phantom? “Um, I’m Danny. Jazz’s brother?”

“Ah, yes. Of course. We’ve been expecting you. Follow the drive up to the house and welcome.”

Motors activated and the gates slowly opened. Danny started the trek up the long driveway. His anxiety wasn’t relived when he saw the manor with it’s dark stone facade and literal tower. If it was made of lighter stones, it could have been a copy of Vlad’s castle.

“This is for Jazz,” he muttered under his breath as he walked up the stairs. Before he could knock on the doors, they opened and Jazz ran out to hug him.

“Danny! Thank you so much for coming! How’ve you been? I know you’re busy, but you need to call me more often.”

Danny hugged her back tightly. “Sorry, Jazz. You know how I lose track of time. So where’s this famous Jason?”

A man stepped forward and started speaking, but hanging off his back was a ghost. The ghost of the dead Robin, to be exact. Shit.

At least the position of the ghost meant he appeared to be looking at probably-Jason. Even if he didn’t hear a word the man said. To make it worse, Robin realized he could see him and was sending out help-me trills.

Danny had to bite hard on his tongue to keep from vocalizing his own comforting chirps.

He was so focused on Robin that he almost didn’t notice probably-Jason holding out his hand to shake. Laughing self-consciously, he took it. “It’s great to finally meet you.”

The other man hesitated a moment and asked, “Is everything all right?”

But all Danny could focus on was Robin hanging off Jason’s shoulders and sending out happy-sad-helpless feelings. Danny relaxed the hold he had on his ghost self and tried to sense what was going on. But he had to reassure the human, too. “Yeah, I’m fine.” But wow, was Jason not. Where had he come into contact with such weird ectoplasm? It seemed to twist every emotion into anger and fear and violence.

Even worse was Robin. He was barely perceptible even to Danny’s enhanced senses.

Of course, Jazz was liminal enough to realize he was doing something. Quietly, she chirped a question.

Danny just shook his head and pulled back his power. “Later,” he murmured.

“I’ll hold you to that,” she said back, just as quietly.

Louder, Danny said, “Sorry. I just have bad memories about large manors like this. Has Jazz told you about Vlad?”

“He’s come up a time or two. With the black hair and blue eyes, someone will probably make an adoption joke at you before the night is over. But I’ll stab them if they do.”

Danny's laugh would have been much less forced had he not just felt the twisted anger inside probably-Jason. “Just don’t hit anything vital,” he said, hoping it sounded like a joke.

Robin rolled his eyes—and how could he do that so obviously with a mask on?—and tried to pull on Jason to lead him inside.

“Well, it might be summer, but Gotham is never warm. Come on in and I’ll introduce you to everyone,” said Jason.

Jazz grabbed his hand as they made their way inside where they were greeted warmly by an elderly gentleman.

“You must be Mr. Danny. Welcome to the Manor. I’m Alfred. Dinner will be served in one hour and please let me know if you need anything. Your sister stated you didn’t have any dietary restrictions?”

“What’s that?” Danny was trying not to stare at Robin who was now hugging the older man. Before Alfred could repeat himself, however, Danny’s brain caught up to the human conversation. “Oh, uh, no. I don’t. Jazz is right.”

“Very good. Can I take your coat and bag?”

Danny did shrug off his backpack, but only so he could also take off his coat. “Can I keep the bag? I don’t feel comfortable without it on me.”

“Very well.” Alfred hung the coat up on a rack right next to the door. “Master Jason, be sure to show him where the bathroom is on your way to join the others. Mr. Danny, there are plenty of drinks in the sitting room where everyone is relaxing should you need a refreshment.” And he finally had confirmation that this was Jason!

“’Course I will, Alfie.”

“Thanks,” said Danny, though he was more focused on the desperate chirps Robin was sending out.

I’m here-notice me-I love you.

Looks like he was breaking his promise to Jazz to not do any ghostly business tonight. Of course Jazz’s boyfriend would be haunted by a ghost that needed help. Why was he even surprised?

---------

As far as I know, there hasn't been a lot of requests for a tag list on this one. @addie-lover-of-stories is the only one I noticed. But let me know and I'll start one!

Next Part

[dodger-chan]

Some untitled platonic stobin angst for you all, set in July of '85. Apologies and thanks to @sharpbutsoft; I'll write something happier next time.

(also on ao3, for those of you who prefer interacting with fics there)

“Not bad for a guy who didn’t realize gay people existed two weeks ago.”

Steve would have been annoyed that Robin thought he was that dumb, but really, he was too relieved she was able to joke about it. The day he’d gotten out of the hospital she’d been skittish. Like she’d thought he’d start hating her once the world went back to normal.

As if he could ever hate Robin.

“I knew gay people existed.” He still couldn’t roll his eyes without thinking he was going to puke, but he could use scorn. “I just didn’t think you could be gay.”

“Really?” She sounded surprised. “I mean, I know I’m not, you know, obvious, because I’ve never had ‘dyke’ painted on my locker or had other girls not want me in the locker room. But, I kind of feel like I should be? Or, not like people would know I’m gay immediately, but that it shouldn’t surprise them when they find out? Like, I’ve never dated a boy, and I don’t like to wear make-up, and my taste in clothes- Though I guess you only saw me in my Scoops uniform. Or only remembered me that way. But I’d literally just told you that I’d had a crush on a girl. Which, even without everything else, is kind of a dead giveaway.”

“True, no normal girl would like Tammy Thompson.” He was never going to let her live that crush down.

“First, the word is ‘straight.’ Don’t say ‘normal’ like that. It makes it sound like there’s something wrong with me.” Steve nodded. There was nothing wrong with Robin. Except her lack of self-confidence. And maybe her taste in women. But he could help her with those things. “Second, I had a crush on Tammy for like three months almost two years ago. I have pined hopelessly over plenty of other, much cooler girls since.”

“Anyone at the moment?” he asked. Robin glanced away from him, so yes, there was. “Okay, who is she?”

“Thirdly,” Robin ignored his question. “What did you mean I couldn’t be gay?”

Steve did not want to answer that.

“Whoever she is, she can’t be as lame as Tammy.” Steve really hoped Robin would let him change the subject. “Still not cool enough to date you, but-”

“Steve.” She wasn’t going to. “You think I’m not going to like your answer. It’s bad, is that it?”

“Yep.”

Robin took a breath.

“Okay. Well, whatever awful shit you thought in the past, you obviously don’t believe it anymore, right? So, bad or not, it doesn’t change where we are now.” Steve was pretty sure it could, or Robin wouldn’t be asking him. “Though, it’s not that you thought I was too pretty to be gay, right? Because that stereotype has always bothered me.”

“No! Not that you’re not pretty. Gorgeous, even. If I were your type, I’d still be totally into you.” Steve still was into her, but it was getting a bit less romantic every day. “I love you.”

“Love you, too, Dingus.”

“No, that’s why. Why I thought you had to be, you know,” normal, “straight.”

Robin frowned at him.

“You thought you couldn’t fall for a girl who couldn’t like you back?” she asked.

“Not exactly.”

“What then?”

“It’s hard to explain.” It barely made sense inside his own head. Putting it in words, making it all make sense to someone else might be impossible.

“Scoops burned down with the mall, Steve. I’ve got nowhere else to be until we get a new job.”

“Okay, well, you know how people say that gay couples don’t really love each other the way, um, straight ones do?”

“Yeah, and it’s complete and utter bullshit.”

Sure, Steve knew that now. But before Robin how was he supposed to learn any different?

“Right. But I’m an idiot, remember? So what I thought was that gay people were somehow unlovable. Not just romantically,” he explained. “Friends wouldn’t be able to love them either. Or their families. Everyone who was supposed to love them just couldn’t. Even if they tried. It wouldn’t be their fault, really, but-

“But I fell for you. It wasn’t just that you were beautiful. Or funny. Or smart. Or that you were there and didn’t hate me as much as you pretended to. I loved you enough to stop being all hung up over Nancy. And since I loved you-”

“I had to be straight.” Robin finished for him. “The logic’s sound-ish, but your premise is absurd. People aren’t unlovable, for one. Besides, wouldn’t that lead to people identifying gay kids early on? If a parent didn’t love their toddler, wouldn’t they want to know why?”

“Maybe. But it’s not like it’s something they’d talk about. What parent is going to admit they don’t love their kid before it’s obvious to everyone else who the problem is?” Robin scowled at him. It was a scowl that said she didn't like his answer, not that she thought he was wrong. He liked that he could tell the difference.

“You’re such a weirdo, Dingus.” Robin leaned her head against his shoulder. Gently, careful not to jostle him. “How did anyone ever think you were normal? Did we just know you were good at basketball and never listen to anything you said?”

“I’m better at swimming.” He also hadn’t said much at school. Talked a lot, sure. Or, at least, as much as everyone else.

“Yeah, yeah. And you can talk to girls without stuttering and chug beer while doing a headstand. All hail King Steve and his perfect hair. We payed so much attention to you that we didn’t pay any at all.” He’d never thought of it that way. “And we overlooked how weirdly your brain works.”

“If it works at all,” he said, with a soft laugh.

“It works fine,” Robin disagreed. “Just, kind of backwards? Or sideways, maybe? I mean, you thought gay people were unlovable when pretty much everyone else thinks we don’t love at all.”

“Don’t love? But that’s clearly stupid.” Steve didn’t think he’d ever heard a dumber idea and he’d spent most of his life hanging out with Tommy H. and Carol. “Loving someone is easy. It’s like a layup.”

“Some people are bad at basketball, Steve.” That was fair. Dustin would probably have trouble with a layup. He might even have trouble dribbling. “Is it really easier to think people are unlovable than to think some people might be bad at loving?”

There was a pulsing sound in Steve’s ears. He wasn’t sure if it was from his headache or his heartbeat.

“I never had trouble loving people.” It was almost an admission. He didn’t think he could get any closer.

“Oh, Steve.” Robin was smart. She could hear what he hadn’t said.

[mack-devereaux]

Comfort

Vince Dunn

Authors note: Vince is my comfort player. I love him. So it’s only fitting that I write about him in a comfort fic. No clue on word count. Pictures are from Pinterest. I think the only trigger is like 3 curse words? And a little bit of angst, just a tiny bit.

❤️❤️❤️❤️

~~~~~~

Isn’t it strange? There are so many people out there who secretly love someone. And yet there are so many people who have no idea that someone secretly loves them.

~~~~~~

Vince was new to Seattle. He had just gotten traded, he knew it was coming, but yet he wasn’t prepared for how much of a difference it would be. In St. Louis he had his friends. But here, he was so new he didn’t have friends yet and with his family in Canada he was struggling trying to settle in. He just wanted someone to talk to and hang out with. His floor in his apartment complex was very quiet, as far as he knew there were only two tenants, him and a very very quiet person, as far as the other rooms, they were used for storage. He never saw his neighbor nor had he heard them when they came and went. Until today that is, he was texting on his phone while walking down the hallway when all of a sudden something, or someone, smacked right into his chest.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention I—“ the cute blonde stopped speaking immediately when she looked at him “wow your eyes are really pretty.” Vince grinned. Kinda taken aback by the chatty girl. “Oh I didn’t mean to say that out loud. I’m sorry, I’ll pay more attention next time” the girl stuttered.

“It’s really not a big deal. I’m Vince” he stuck out his hand. The girl took his hand and she swore electricity shot up her arm. “Y/n” she smiled dropping her hand and reaching for her apartment keys.

“Well for the record y/n you have very beautiful eyes as well” he added with a wink and a panty dropping smile. He felt an odd sense of calm and peace when they touched hands. “Do you flirt with all your neighbors Dunner?” She asked.

“Wait how do you—“ his eyebrows pinched together, she knew who he was.

“I work for the Kraken sometimes. I’m one of the extra medics they call in when you guys get too crazy out there. It’s my job to know who you guys are. But you should get going before you’re late to training” she leaned into her doorway of her apartment.

“Shit, yea. Well I guess I will see you around then, don’t be a stranger. You can come hang out anytime, I’m only a door away” he smiled and started to walk down the hall to go to the gym. Looking back over his shoulder he noticed her watching him “you too Vince”.

*a few weeks later*

Y/n was sitting on her couch alone, only because Vince was out of town on a roadie. She didn’t realize how much she had gotten used to his presence until he was gone. Literally. He was constantly in her apartment, and if he wasn’t at her place she was at his. At this point they were the equivalent to roommates. Vince tried to convince himself it was because he felt calm and peace around her, not that he had a massive crush on her. He made the mistake of telling his friend Sam about her and he hasn’t heard the end of it.

Y/n wasn’t mad about constantly having the cute hockey player in her apartment over the last few weeks, however she did wish he gave some heads up when he came over though. There’s been many times he just barged in when she was looking like a mess or had just crawled out of bed with her hair everywhere. He claimed it was a cute look for her but she was still mortified. He was like sex on legs, he constantly looked amazing. Between his dark curls and his bright green eyes she knew she was fucked. Plus his constant flirting and the need for physical touch was not helping her case. She quickly picked up that physical touch was how he needed reassurance. He always mentioned how she kept him grounded and not in his head, she took that as a huge compliment, he didn’t seem like the type to let people in very easily.

Her phone vibrated on the table, bringing her out of her trance she had fallen into, she reached out and saw a text from Vince.

From Dunner 😈:

Hey babygirl, you able to talk?

Babygirl, the name he called her when it was just them, she loved it. It often became Babe around his friends and teammates. But she wasn’t mad about that nickname either. She hit the call button and waited for him to answer.

“Someone’s impatient” she rolled her eyes when he answered.

“You’re the one who texted me, I figured it would be a waste of time by texting you, just to have you call me” y/n explained.

“That’s fair. What are you up to?” He said, he sounded tired.

“Laying on my couch” y/n said.

“Sexy, what are you wearing” he smiled.

“Vince” she rolled her eyes “don’t make it weird.”

He laughed “come on babygirl live a little, I know you’re wearing my shirt.”

Glancing down she scoffed “no I’m not” yes she was, “How was your game” she quickly changed subjects.

“I knew it” he grinned biting his lip. He loved when she wore his clothes. “It was good, did you watch?”

“I always do” she sighed “when do you come back?”

“I knew you missed me” he chirped.

“Quit teasing me or I will hang up” she pouted. Messing with the hem of the worn out shirt.

“No you won’t, you miss me too much. But I’ll be back in a few days babe” he yawned.

“I’m gonna fall asleep soon” she said also yawning.

“You should stay up, I wanna keep flirting with you” he whined.

“You’re ridiculous” she laughed.

“You never flirt back, it’s boring” he said.

“Umm yes I do, you’re just super attractive and it makes me nervous to flirt with you too much, I never know when you’re being serious” she laughed.

“I’m always serious babe” he said, after a note of silence on her end he added “get some sleep, I’ll talk to you tomorrow yeah?”

“Yeah, goodnight Vince.”

As y/n hung up he looked at his lock screen photo of them. They were out at a club with the team, she was in a dark blue dress and he was wearing a black t shirt and dark jeans. She was sitting on his lap with his arm around her back and they were taking selfies. He had just touched her exposed shoulder with his cold beer bottle when she jumped. Then he snapped a photo of them mid laugh. It was his favorite picture of them. For as much as he teased her about her missing him, he was certain he missed her way more. Being away from her was weird. Especially since they had only met a short while ago. He’s never clicked with someone this quick before. He didn’t know what to make of it. His friend Sam had tried giving him advice on asking her out but he wasn’t sure how she felt about the situation. A text came through bringing him back to reality.

From Babygirl 🥵:

Goodnight 💕

To Babygirl 🥵:

Goodnight babe

~~~~~~

We looked at each other just a little too long to be just friends.

~~~~~~

*a few weeks later*

Y/n was adding some final touches to her makeup before she heard her door unlock.

“I’m coming!“ she shouted as she grabbed a hair tie to throw on her wrist. She walked out into the living room seeing Vince drop his duffel bag by the door, he was wearing a dark game day suit and his curls were styled perfectly. It’s a shame that hair will be covered by a helmet soon. Damn he looked good.

“You ready?” He asked.

“Yeah, just let me grab a few things,” she grabbed her purse and her water bottle. She was going to the game tonight because they were playing the Canucks, the Kraken tend to get a little rough with each other when they played teams close to them. Mainly because the crowd was always intense and got the energy going in the arena. So naturally Vince had convinced her to carpool with him, with games like this he always got a little hotheaded. Just having y/n around him seemed to keep him calm. Which he would need after tonight’s match up with their Canadian neighbors. She was his first friend here, and somehow between the late night talks and flirting he had fallen for her. Even some of the teammates had noticed how he kept her close to him, literally and figuratively. Little did he know that she had fallen for him too. How could she not. The two of them just fit so perfectly together. The drive to the game was filled with flirty banter and small talk.

~~~

The game was a bloodbath. Penalties were called left and right. Players were coming off the ice like crazy with cuts and bloody noses and injuries constantly. It was a good thing they called in backup, which they definitely utilized. She was right behind the players bench watching everyone with such intensity, even the other team. The end of the second period was nearing, she couldn’t wait for the team to have an intermission to cool down. The energy in the arena was out of this world. She had been to plenty of games before, but none had been this intense.

Then it happened, gloves came off and it was a blur of blue and white wrestling on the ice, punches and insults thrown around like nothing. She forgot how to breathe once she realized it was Vince who was fighting. As a medic she was used to blood, especially at the hockey games, it never bothered her but it was different seeing Vince bloody. She wasn’t sure how long they had been fighting. After what felt like a lifetime the refs finally ripped the players apart. Vince immediately going towards the bench, he was yelling. The teams physician pulling him to the side and down the tunnel checking for any major injuries. They had moved so fast it didn’t register to y/n that they were halfway to the locker room already.

“No, I want y/n! Please!“ Vince shouted. Y/n snapping out of her frozen stance she followed the physician down the tunnel and into the locker room where she heard him shouting. As she turned the corner she immediately went for gloves and gauze. Throwing her hair up in a bun the physician was explaining what she needed to do, he had his hands full with this game, she was happy to help but still in shock that Vince was the one she was tending to. “No concussion, but we need the cut on his lip and cheek cleaned up and check his teeth for any other bleeding. He’ll return for the 3rd period. When you’re done with him send him where the rest of the team is. Oh and check his shoulder too, he took a nasty hit.”

“Yep. Got it” she said as she was washing her hands and putting gloves on to look at his face. As she stepped in front of Vince she grabbed his face gently making him look at her, still in shock over what she had witnessed. Yes she knew hockey was a violent sport. Yes she knew there were lots of injuries. But seeing Vince get hurt and in a fight was something she wasn’t prepared for. He was breathing hard, still pissed off about the call and the fight. But as soon as y/n was in front of him he felt better. She was explaining what she was doing, and asking permission to clean him up. He wasn’t listening, he knew she had to do that for her job. He leaned forward and just hugged her waist, leaning his head into her side, not saying anything. His breathing still heavy but starting to even out.

“Vince, I need to clean that cut,” y/n sighed.

“Y/n please. I need to calm down. Just—Please.” He was wound up, he tried to keep his voice level, not wanting her to hear him yell. So she let him, his sweat and probably blood going on her shirt. She just stood there and rubbed his back, well she tried to rub his back. It was hard with all the pads and gear on. After about 5 minutes of him just hugging her he finally pulled away. She didn’t say anything, she just looked at him, he nodded to her and she started looking at his injuries. He never looked away from her face. He notices the grey swirls in her eyes, she was holding back tears, the long black lashes, the freckles lightly dotting across her nose.

The cuts weren’t bad, and his shoulder was fine. Relief flooded her, when she was done she took her gloves off and threw everything away, “Vince, are you ok” she said looking at him. He was already looking at her.

“I’m ok” he breathed out “thank you baby girl.” He stood up and kissed her on the forehead, letting his lips stay there for a second longer than he should have, and walked to where the rest of his team was. She let out a huge sigh and sat down. After a minute she walked back to the bench for the last period.

The game ended in overtime with the Kraken winning. Y/n was charting and filling out paperwork when the team was finishing up post game interviews and showers. Vince walked around the corner to meet y/n by the team parking, and they walked together to his car. Once in the car Vince’s hand soon found its way to y/ns thigh, still needing some sort of comfort from her, she set her hand on top of his and intertwined their fingers. They said nothing the entire way home. Not even as he grabbed her hand and walked past her door straight to his apartment. It was rare that he was this quiet after games. They always fell so easy into conversations, but she didn’t dare speak first this time. She sat on the couch as he went into his room to change. After a few minutes he came out and handed her one of his old shirts, she walked to the bathroom to change. She grinned once she saw it was her favorite shirt of his, a very worn out hockey shirt from when he played for the Icedogs in his OHL days. It fell to her mid thigh, which was fine, she normally wore boy short underwear so she wasn’t super uncomfortable in just the shirt.

As she walked out of the bathroom she saw him in the kitchen. His sweatpants hanging low on his hips. She could see the tension in his back muscles still. She walked up to him and just hugged him from behind, even though he towered over her. He turned around and lifted her up to where she was sitting on the counter and his hands were on either side of her legs. They stared at each other for a minute. Y/n reached out to brush his curls off his forehead. He leaned into her touch and as she went to grab the side of his face he grabbed her hand a kissed the back of it.

“Y/n. I am sorry for what happened earlier.”

“Vince, I’ve seen you fight before it’s not a big deal, I just panicked for a second when I saw that you were the one hurt, and with everyone screaming that loud in there I just shut down.“

“ No, let me finish please.” He sighed, “it’s not that. I—fuck. He made a comment about you and it set me off. Y/n you give me a sense of calm that I’ve never had before. I’m pretty hotheaded and get worked up pretty easy out there. You’re the only thing that can calm me down, and that terrifies me. Every time I’m around you I just feel peace, and comfort. I’m not sure how to explain it, and I know it sounds dumb but I just need you to stay with me.”

“Vince I’m not leaving, you make me feel the same. I’m not sure when it happened for me either but everything is easy with you. I don’t want it to stop” Y/n said.

“Can we go to bed then? Just relax for the night?” Vince looked at her.

“Yes.”

[musical-shit-show]

isn't it delicate?

Pairing: Musical!Beetlejuice x Reader

Inspiration: Prompts #1 (“did…did you just kiss me?”) and #2 (“i didn’t mean to say that but yeah, i love you.”) from Prompt List 2, requested by @animetattoochick

Warnings: cursing, sexual innuendo, fluff

Word Count: 2,701

Author’s Note: Thank you for your patience on this one! I really haven’t been feeling very inspired lately, but I’m so glad I was able to finish this request. I have one more in my inbox currently but after that I think I may be able to get a couple other one shots out before the end of the year. I always love this time of year and I tend to feel more inspired around the holidays, so hopefully I’ll have the time to write more! As always check out my Masterlist, About Me page, or Prompt Lists if you’d like to submit an ask! Happy reading :)

“So…any men in your life I should know about while you’re up there?”

“Mom! That’s…no. Not…really, no.”

“Well, alright. That wasn’t very convincing, but I’ll take it,” your mother mused over the phone, only slightly teasing, “Just, tell me: are those people being good hosts? What were their names again—?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. Your mom was always the forgetful type, “Charles and Delia. And their daughter, Lydia. She’s about sixteen, I think? Cute kid.”

You didn’t feel like you should mention the fact that your new teenage counterpart only wore black and was incredibly morbid, or that two ghosts occupied the attic, or that you were frequently plagued by a literal demon.

If you told your mom any of that, odds were that she’d drop dead from shock.

Ever since you started renting out the Deetz’ third bedroom in their Connecticut home, you tried to keep the details to a minimum when talking to your family. All they knew was that you had moved hundreds of miles away for your dream job, which was true; what they didn’t need to know what that you practically lived in a haunted house.

For the first few weeks you lived there, everything was relatively normal. Delia and Charles were in the city most days, and when you got home from work, Lydia was usually at the kitchen table doing her homework or in the attic. One day, you were headed to your room when you heard concerned whispers coming from the other side of the attic door.

“I just don’t know if now is the right time to tell her, you know?” you heard an older male’s voice say, his tone clearly distressed. You couldn’t help but wonder who Lydia was talking to given that Charles had been gone for a few days.

“Adam, it’s been weeks!” Lydia shot back, “Besides, I’m worried if we wait too long, you know who might show up and scare her away. You know how he gets.”

“She does have a point, hon,” this time, a sweeter woman’s voice spoke, “Besides, I think she’ll take it well. She gets along with Lydia just fine, doesn’t she?”

“Of course! If I just explain—”

“Okay, okay,” the voice now identified as Adam cut in, “I was getting a little sick of hiding up in the attic again.”

You heard the old door creaking open and bolted to your room, shutting your own door as quietly as you could. You stood at the foot of your bed, utterly confused.

Who were those people?

When did they manage to sneak into the attic?

And why the fuck was Lydia keeping some huge secret from you?

You thought you had a good rapport with her, given that you were several years her senior and were getting along with her alright. You maybe even could see yourself taking on an older sibling role, especially since she didn’t have any of her own and few friends at school.

Plus, you could tell she had a hard time opening up. As your mind slowed, you realized she would only come to you when she was ready. Whatever weird shit was going on would become your business when she finally told you.

It didn’t take long after your adventure in snooping.

A few days later, you heard a soft knock on your door and Lydia’s small frame peaked through the door. “Come on in,” you smiled, closing your laptop, “I was just checking out dinner options, how does pizza sound?”

“Oh, um, yeah,” she replied, uncharacteristically timid, “Pizza sounds great.” An awkward silence filled the air as she sat down on the edge of the bed, the buckles on her black chunky boots jangling slightly, “So…I have to tell you something.”

“I figured.”

“It’s just…I don’t want to freak you out or anything,” she began gingerly, “I haven’t told anyone about this, but since I like you and you’re living here, I thought it’s only fair—”

She was very sweet for beating around the bush, but you couldn’t keep it in anymore, “Is this about your two friends you’ve been sneaking in? Because honestly, Lydia, it’s completely fine if you have people over, you’re not bothering me—”

“What, no, I—” Lydia stared at your incredulously, “How did you—?”

“I heard you all talking the other day,” you confessed, finding her teenage antics a little endearing, “You aren’t exactly the quietest bunch, but like I said, I don’t mind.”

Lydia shook her head, not wanting anything about her situation to be misconstrued, “No, you don’t understand. Adam and Barbara, they aren’t friends from school or anything like that. They live here.”

You blink stupidly.

“Or, I guess lived here.”

You grew even more confused.

“I’m not sure I understand,” you said, a small laugh escaping your lips.

“They’re dead,” Lydia finally stated, unsure how to make herself any clearer, “Ghosts. They died here before me, my dad and Delia moved in. And…since you’ve been here, they’ve been staying in the attic.”

You laughed involuntarily. You couldn’t help it.

Surely this teenager was fucking with you.

But as silence once again permeated the room, Lydia stared at you earnestly, not breaking into a mischievous smile or shouting a good “gotcha!”.

“Oh,” you muttered, “Oh, you’re serious.���

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Cool. Ghosts are real. I can handle that.”

“Yeah, you seem really calm right now. It’s kinda freaking me out.”

“I’m good,” you reassured her. Or maybe you were just reassuring yourself? “I am. Just…processing.”

The existence of ghosts didn’t surprise you that much, but you were obviously way off when it came to Lydia’s secret. In your defense, you were busy with the move and your job and everything else, how could you notice anything strange going on?

“There’s something else too,” Lydia said quietly, swinging her chunky black boots off the bed and landing on the floor with a thud, “Or, I guess, someone. His name is, well, I usually call him Beej. He’s like a super chaotic ghost or demon, I’m not really sure. It’s a long story…”

She shifted on the bed again. “Anyways, I met him pretty quickly after we moved here, and, well, he’s kind of…a lot. And he left for a bit, but he and I are actually friends. Real friends, not like before. Like I said, long story, but I just wanted to tell you in case he shows up here and—”

Before Lydia could finish, a flash of green light illuminated the room, and the figure that appeared before you was the strangest man you had ever seen.

He donned a hideous black and white striped suit that appeared to be falling apart at the seams, and his hair was a violent shade of green that actually made you wince. His skin was sickly pale, and the tattered overcoat he wore to round out the ensemble shed dust and dirt particles with every movement.

“Lyds!” he shouted, his voice grating and coarse, “My ears were burning; were you talking about me, oh best friend of mine?” He tousled the teen’s hair, much to her dismay. Before Lydia could answer, he turned his attention to you.

Eyeing you up and down, the man cocked his head to this side. You felt a light tingle on the back of your neck; why did you suddenly feel like you were being hunted?

“And who do we have here?” he purred, a Cheshire cat smile spreading across his face, “Babysitter?”

“I’m sixteen, asshole. I don’t need a babysitter,” Lydia chimed.

You told him your name, and considered extending your hand in formality. That idea quickly disintegrated when you saw how grimy his hands looked, fingers black at their tips in a clear indication of decay.

“I, uh, live in the guest bedroom,” you choked out, “And your name is…?”

“Wish I could tell, ya, babe,” he said with a chuckle, running his tongue across his slightly jagged teeth, “I like to say I’m the ghost with the most, but you can call me whatever you like—”

Lydia was quick to cut him off from the incessant attempts at flirting, and you learned his real name was Beetlejuice. He winced at the sound, and the more he and the younger girl told you about their escapades, the more enthralled you became.

Before you could fully process all the insane information the duo was throwing at you, Beetlejuice left, citing a bio-exorcism that needed attending to. You made a mental note to have Lydia explain that in greater detail later. With a *pop* and a puff of green smoke, he was gone.

But not for long.

Over the next few months, Beetlejuice’s visits became more and more frequent, much to the dismay of everyone else in the house, living and dead.

Except for you.

You found him utterly fascinating, despite his shocking outward appearance and often lascivious gaze. Yes, he was a dead guy, but he always made an effort to ask you about your life, even if it was followed up by a crude joke or bad pick-up line. When he wasn’t tormenting the other inhabitants of the Deetz residence, he was almost…sweet to you.

Of course, his sweetness was usually undercut with his sleazy tendencies; Though you knew he liked getting a rise out of you and you would often bicker with him on purpose. Even as you performed mundane tasks, you could tell he was leering at you, studying your every move.

You thought you were alone while on the phone with your mother, but Beetlejuice had become sneakier; this time he was listening outside your room, floating inches above the floor so his shadow couldn’t be seen under the doorframe.

“Anyways, no, there’s, uh, no guy,” you said sheepishly, your tone coming out more bitter than you intended. “You know I’d tell you, Ma.”

“I know, honey,” she said, her voice comforting you, “Just, try to make some friends, okay? We miss you and I don’t want you to be lonely.”

For some reason this made tears well up in your eyes. “I miss you too,” you choked, masking your sob with a cough, “And uh, I’ll try, don’t worry. I’ll talk to you later, okay?” There was a pause on the other end. Your mom knew you were crying, which made you want to cry even more.

“Okay,” she said, not wanting to upset you further. She knew you too well, “I love you.”

“Love you too.”

Your phone beeped and then returned to your home screen, and you let out a heavy sigh. A few tears dropped onto your jeans, the salt stinging your eyes.

“Who made you cry?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin as Beetlejuice materialized next to you, a few strands of his hair sprouting red at the roots. You shook your head in dispute.

“No, it was just my mom—”

“Oh, typical mothers. They really are the worst sometimes. Y’know, did I ever tell you how my mom—”

“Beej!” you cut him off before he went on another one of his rants, “I know. I’m sure you’ve told me. But no, she didn’t make me cry.” You wiped a stray tear away from your face and sniffled, feeling pathetic. “I guess I’m just a bit homesick.”

His hair instantly reverted back to its original state of vibrant green as he sat down on the bed next to you. “Oh…right,” he said, twiddling his thumbs, “You breathers can get so…sensitive sometimes, huh?”

You laughed dryly. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.” It didn’t take long at all for you to see that Beetlejuice was a big softy, even though he liked to tease and scare you on an almost daily basis.

You didn’t mind, not even a little bit. Because against your better judgement, you found yourself developing feelings for him. Weirdly strong feelings. And you weren’t sure what that meant with him, well, being dead and all.

That fact didn’t seem to matter when he took your hand in his, your warm palm contrasting with his almost frigid skin. You felt yourself shiver, and you weren’t sure if it was from the sudden temperature change or the physical contact.

“I’m uh, not really good with this shit,” he said indelicately, “But I like having you around. Usually, I spend all my time either in the Netherworld or scaring the life outta breathers but…I didn’t want to come back to this house that much until you showed up. So…thanks for that.”   

He ran his thumb across the back of your hand, the gesture making your insides churn.

“Plus, if you were gone, I’d lose my eye candy,” he added, making you instantly blush and let out a laugh, “Adam’s hot and all, but you might just have him beat—"

You couldn’t help it. You kissed him. Your eyes were still red from residual tears, and he was a demon, and you tasted the faintest earthy flavor on your lips, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care about any of those facts.

It was a fairly chaste kiss, only lasting a few moments before you pulled away. Instantly Beetlejuice’s hair started sprouting a light pink color.

“Did…did you just kiss me?” he asked in disbelief. He was usually the one doing the kissing, or groping, or endless propositioning.

A sheepish laugh escaped your throat, your palms instantly moistening with nervous sweat. “Uh, yeah?” you croaked, “Is that alright?” Beetlejuice looked utterly dumbfounded.

“Alright?” he laughed. If he were still alive, his heart would’ve fluttered. “Babe, more than alright, I loved it! Shit, I’ve loved every second you’ve been in this boring ass house…because I love you.”

The realization came to the demon as soon as the words left his lips. He didn’t even register what he had said until you muttered, “you love me?”

Fuck.

‘Well,’ the demon thought, ‘no going back now’. He couldn’t detect whether you were pleased or creeped out by the sudden escalation, but decided to trudge forward through the emotionally honest deep end he had unwittingly dove into.

“Erm…” now it was his turn to be sheepish, “I didn’t mean to say that but yeah, I love you. Sorry to one up you, babe, but if you wanna go back to making out, you won’t get any complaints outta me.”

Even as he cracked jokes, he could feel his anxiety rising to his hair, which was slowly turning a sickly shade of yellow that mixed with the pink strands. He held his nonexistent breath as a wide grin spread across your face.

“Oh Beej, I love you too,” you said, finally able to put words to the ache you’ve felt for him for weeks, “Even though you’re a complete perv who shouldn’t have been spying on me in the first place.”

He scoffed at the accusation. “Look babe, let’s not forget who kissed who first,” he reminded, tracing his fingers along your arm. His hair was now a vibrant pink. “Though I wouldn’t mind going in for round two—”

“Round two of what, exactly?!” Lydia burst through the door, causing the two of you to jump away from each other on the bed. “Or do I even want to know.” The young girl looked disgusted at the thought.

“Jesus Christ, Lyds, ever heard of knockin’?!” Beetlejuice admonished. It was so big brother of him it almost made you burst out laughing.

“Yeah, I wonder where she got the spying from,” you deadpanned, your gaze flickered between the both of them before landing on Lydia, “We’ll meet you downstairs in a minute to talk, alright?”

She crossed her arms across her chest before stomping down the steps, yelling out a “No funny business!” for good measure, utterly embarrassing you and tickling Beetlejuice all at once.

You made a mental note to banish him the next time you talk to your mom; the fact that you were now dating a literal dead guy would not be a topic of discussion on the next phone call, and you didn’t need Beetlejuice butting in to introduce himself as her future son-in-law.

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