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planetaryupscaled · 5 months ago

Text

Newfound Wonder

Male OC x Newjeans Hanni

Tags: 9k, first time, creampie, dub con, tw

The story is not ours, we alternate the original story to match our desired settings.

“Come on, hurry up already!” Under the watchful eyes of her friends, Hanni stumbled out of her parents’ house while dragging along a suitcase nearly twice as heavy as her petite body.

“Ye-yeah, I know, I know!” The stuffed container dragged across the asphalt while she put all remaining energy into pulling it towards the parked camper van just a few feet. After which she uttered a sigh of defeat upon realizing that she would still have to lift the suitcase at least a foot off the ground in order to haul it into the back of the rusty old van.

It sucked. It hadn’t even been her idea to go on this spontaneous camping trip, it had been her friend’s, Danielle. A childhood friend, she was pretty and clever, even if she had a tendency to always see the best in people.

Difficult to decline such an offer to be away from home for a day. At least sometimes, Hanni had to pretend that she enjoyed going out instead of sitting at home all day. Her parents were happy to remind her that doing new things, helps to turn you into a responsible adult. It’s not like her genes were making it easy to spend time outside even if she wanted to.

The sun is Hanni’s worst enemy. She’s like a vampire, just without any valuable superpowers other than the ability to get a sunburn twice as easily as her friend.

“Need a hand with that? I don’t want to be stuck here for the rest of the day.” The third and final victim to join the small adventure was Danielle’s boyfriend. A tall handsome guy — Minsoo. Pretty athletic and in very good shape, he enjoyed working out and has more flavors of protein powder at home than any sane person should possess. As to why he decided to start dating Danielle, it’s a mystery. He’s a few years older and already done with college. “Here, there you go.” Minsoo easily lifted the suitcase up and into the back of the van before returning to the passenger seat.

Hanni climbed in as well and took a seat herself, brushed some dust off her jeans and shot her friend a quick glare. Danielle’s family was seriously well off, it must’ve been an itch for nostalgia that urged her to rent a cheap old vehicle like this.

“There you are Han! You got all your stuff, then? I swear you’re gonna love this!” Danielle was grinning from ear to ear, giddy as a kid for this opportunity to go camping. Another advantage of having plenty of spare money — if she really wanted something, she simply went ahead and did it. It’s a surprise she managed to remain a grounded, decent person.

“I guess.” The engine gave a loud groan, but started dutifully and the trio’s journey began. Through the city and plenty of farmland, over a mountain and past large patches of empty land before eventually arriving in a dense forest, hours away from where they had left. It was a decently idyllic place, untouched by civilization. Bumpy hills and vegetation as far as the eye could see.

“You doing all right?” Danielle kept one hand on the steering wheel while handing her girlfriend a bottle of water, something to get by for another hour.

Hanni happily accepted the treat. “Are we there yet?”

“Add another ten minutes for each time you ask that question,” came the witty response. The road was getting rockier, harder to traverse without slowing down significantly. At least the atmosphere changed dramatically, lush colors were surrounding the area. Trees large enough to pierce the sky. If you pay enough attention, you could even spot a natural lake here and there.

Not like Hanni was paying any attention, she held her smartphone tightly and stared at the bright screen while playing games. Old habits die hard.

The car eventually came to a stop, and Danielle basked in relief at the sight in front of them. The road ended right into a large open space in the midst of towering trees in all directions. “That’s what I’m talking about!” she announced gleefully. “Told ya we’d find a nice spo-” she turned her head, glancing at her distracted companion. “...spot. Han! Are you even looking? Come on!” she insisted. “Look!”

Finally the distracted teenager lowered her phone and gazed out the window. “I guess, it doesn’t look half-bad. Good graphics, ten outta ten. Just be careful not to get eaten by a tiger. “

A sigh of frustration followed. “Tigers live in India and Russia. And apparently in your fantasy.”

Minsoo opened the door to exit the vehicle and a fresh breeze of nature greeted the trio. It was a damp, wild forest smell. It’s something you just don’t have in the city — no impurities, no weird unidentifiable stench around every corner. Just nature. He took a pleased deep breath. “Worth it.”

“Oh shoot!” Danielle reached into her pocket and rushed out of the car. “I almost forgot!” She began to frantically toy with her phone only to utter an annoyed groan. “I can’t get a signal! Crap. My parents wanted me to leave them a message before we go! Aw...” she whined. “It uh... it should be fine, I guess. I already sorted the important stuff before we left.”

In the meantime, Minsoo already opened the backside of the van to retrieve the tent and various supplies. “It would be even finer if you’d lend me a hand over here.”

Hanni used the opportunity to retort. “Ah-huh. The dude who is into weightlifting is asking girls for help? You can lift things ten times heavier than what I can carry!” she scoffed.

“Perfect, then you can grab the tent while I carry the heavy anchors and the hammer. See it as opportunity to show some...female empowerment or something.”

Hanni rolled her eyes at that and reluctantly climbed out of the car to follow his instructions. After the tent was set up and ready to go, Hanni waited to continue helping but was left dumbfounded. “Uhh- where’s the second and third one? Where are you guys going to sleep then?”

Minsoo gave her a quizzical look. “We...share one tent? Obviously? If you don’t spread your arms and legs in all directions we’re going to fit in just fine. Just please, try not to eat any beans before we go to sleep.”

Hanni face flushed a bright red, eyes wide open. She quietly turned and walked off, using the lack of knowledge of the area as excuse to go for a walk. Maybe she would find something of interest. Or perhaps...maybe not. It was an uneventful walk and she found little besides more trees and insects everywhere. Seriously a lot of bugs. It would’ve been nice to find a secret cave, or waterfall. Like in the movies. Alas reality was harsh and dull.

She returned an hour later to see that Danielle and her boyfriend had set up a proper campsite. A big log had been cut in half across the center, to create two comfortable makeshift benches. They were strategically placed around the campfire for maximum comfort. The large flame already helped to illuminate the nearby area, and the soft crackling of burning twigs and branches was a soothing sound to behold.

Both lovers were already seated by the fire and cuddling closely, Danielle clung tightly to her boyfriend’s arm and affectionately rubbed her cheek against him. “Dan! Did I miss anything?” Hanni approached and reluctantly sat down on the second, unused bench. The wood was hard, nothing like her computer chair.

“Not really. I think.” Danielle reached to the side and slid her hand into a bag of chips, retrieving a handful and leaning back to enjoy the view. “Oh! But! We did think about playing a round of truth or dare, if you’re up for it. Could be fun. Also a chance for you to get to know Minsoo a little better! It would be amazing for the two people I care the most about to become close friends too!”

He agreed as well and conjured a bottle of bourbon from behind the log. “Every time you get picked, you take a shot. To up the stakes a little.” Minsoo produced three shot glasses, and rearranged the seats so that each person would be seated near the tip of an imagined triangle.

Hanni watched on. “I...guess it’s too late to say no. Sure, whatever.” Once more did she take a seat, and Danielle — as host — went ahead to be the first one to spin the bottle. It pointed at Hanni.

“Do you have any secret boyfriend you haven’t told us about?” asked Danielle, grinning slyly.

Her friend shook her hand and furrowed a brow. “No? You’d be the first one to know. I already told you that I don’t have any plans to waste time on that stuff, not until after we’re done with college anyway, and that’s still years away.” Hanni leaned forward and gave the bottle a new spin, it pointed at Minsoo this time. “Since you two seem to be into asking private questions, here’s one. Have you banged yet? You two seem awfully close so I can only imagine that you’re going at it daily, like clockwork.” There was a hint of jealousy in the way Hanni said those words, and Danielle instantly averted her gaze and stared at the ground.

“Nope. She wants to wait.” Minsoo answered. Nothing else was said and there was a brief silence while Hanni was torn between nagging for more information, or leaving the topic alone. Minsoo reached for the bottle and gave it another spin, it spun and spun before slowing down and pointing at... Hanni!

“Hold on, I already had a turn just now!” Hanni objected.

“We are just three people,” he pointed out coldly. “Bold question you gave me. Have you even had sex yet?” His gaze was entirely focused at Hanni, and she had no choice but to lean back, completely taken by surprise.

It was Danielle who interrupted the awkward, tense moment. “Okay, okay. This was a bad idea. That wasn’t at all how you’re supposed to play the game. There’s also another thing both of you forgot, I guess now is as good as time as any.” Her slender hand reached for the shot glasses and she filled each one, after which she quickly drank one in a single gulp and poured herself another.

They sat there, quietly. For the longest time they simply looked at the campfire and listened to it. Occasionally drinking another glass of strong whiskey. Each one of them thought about something different. Hanni felt a deep pit in her stomach, awash with the guilt of prying into something she should’ve left alone. Danielle felt both upset, and embarrassed — her family valued chastity until marriage. An outdated concept, but not something that’s worth getting disowned for just to break it.

More time passed without any of them speaking a word, they kept going until the bottle had been emptied. Danielle managed to pass out while still seated on the bench. Her head was tilted to the side with closed eyes, and the empty bottle slipped out of her lap. Minsoo caught it just in time.

“That’s it, then.” He slid his arms underneath her and lifted her up. There’s no way she could walk, he had to carry her to the tent. “This night is officially over, let’s get some sleep,” he spoke, only to notice that Hanni was nearly equally smashed and moments from falling off her seat. Swaying from side to side, much like the subtle movements of the large flame in front of her. It was a dreamlike sequence, almost like watching a pair of innocent twins — the girl’s flowing mane scarlet hair and the identical red fire.

Hanni’s eyelids felt incredibly heavy. Each time she blinked, it was a taxing achievement to open them anew. Her vision became a blurry mess.

Every time she opened her eyes, she felt slightly more...at ease. Comfortable. She began putting more effort into narrowing her eyes, focusing her view, only to stare up at the ceiling of the tent they built earlier. How did she get in there, when did she get there?

Hanni raised her head up, straining to do so. Her entire body felt stiff and heavy. As she looked down, she stared back at her naked breasts, even though she couldn’t remember removing her top, or taking off her bra. Her legs began to move on their own, rising up...and there in the dark she could see two hands manipulating her body.

Minsoo looked back at her, while his hands were holding onto the waistband of her underwear to peel them off her body. Just like that they came free and he tossed them off to the side. With her legs still up like that, Hanni could look at her own crotch. Her hairless, bare slit was completely exposed. It took her another moment to fully comprehend — she’s completely nude, and Minsoo was able to look straight at her womanhood. “Wha...what’s happening?” she groaned. “What the heck’s going on...” she slurred drunkenly.

“It’s cool, relax. We are going to help each other out tonight.” Minsoo gently lowered her legs back down to the cushy blankets that layered the ground. “I totally get why you were asking those things earlier.” His hand reached for his belt buckle. As soon as it came loose, he removed his pants completely, followed by his boxers. As soon as that fabric was out of the way, his erection jumped into sight as it bounced in excitement. A shimmering fat bead of pre-cum rolled off the engorged tip of his organ and dripped onto Hanni’s inner thigh.

The rapidly panicking teenager reached to the side, reaching for her friend. “D...Dan!”

Minsoo swiftly grasped her wrist and pulled it back in. “It’s all right, she’s sleeping. This is going to be our secret. You want her to be happy, right? Since I haven’t gotten laid in... fucking months. But something tells me that you don’t care about meaningless shit like remaining a virgin, right? It’s ridiculous. Tiny bit of skin. That stuff shouldn’t prevent you from enjoying your life, yeah?” His much larger body size made it nearly impossible for Hanni to squirm away, with a simple grip on her wrist he was fully in control of her actions. It didn’t help that her petite, small body was a much easier victim to the alcohol they consumed earlier. It had barely any effect on him, but she had become an utter mess and could barely even remain awake. Minsoo’s grip moved up to Hanni’s shoulder and hips, and with a single push he rolled her over onto her belly. She could feel the pit in her stomach, her intoxicated mind was spinning out of control.

He spat, presumably into his hand, since she could soon feel his fingers applying something wet to her labia. He spat again, but this time he shoved a finger into her slit and began spreading the lubrication around within her vagina. There was an immediate resistance and she moaned in discomfort. “What the...fuck, man. I am not Dan.” Hanni crawled a few inches forward, but he chased after her and simply shoved his finger back into her to finish applying his saliva to her delicate insides.

“I know, I told you. She wants to wait with sex, but you don’t. Either we fuck, or I’ll break up with her since lord knows I need some action.” Minsoo withdrew his finger and inhaled the subtle scent of her pussy. It clung to his finger after what he did. Hanni almost retched at the thought that he now knew exactly what her pussy smelled like.

She drunkenly pulled her arms close and placed her hands flat on the blanket, attempting to push herself off the ground while cursing under her breath. Her muscles behaved like wet noodles, there’s no tension. The tent began to feel even darker when she noticed Minsoo’s large body hovering over her own and casting a shadow. One of his arms moved underneath her to pull her in for a tight embrace. Her breasts were squished up against the blanket because of the added weight on her back.

There was a pause, until she could feel something fat and blunt kissing the lips of her pussy. His dick. Another push allowed it to nestle right there between the soft embrace of her labia. He simply needed to keep applying more pressure and that mushroom-shaped head would follow the trail of spit, right into her snatch. “That’s...all kinds of mes...messed up, cut it out...! You’re... her boyfriend. Boyfriend,” she repeated twice. The world continued spinning even faster now. Hanni reluctantly took a deep breath and stopped trying to talk, she was moments from throwing up. Any more effort and she would lose control.

A wet smooch announced the sudden entry of his dick, her insides were immediately stretched to the brim to try and accommodate the bloated, smooth crown. “Ahnn! Nnnnh...!”

The tight grip of his hand suddenly pushed against her mouth, silencing her almost entirely. “I know, babe. The first time is always the hard part. It’s just like opening a wrapped gift, ‘kay? After you’ve opened the box once, there you go, it’s always going to be nice and... accessible, right? I’m gonna open that little gift you’ve got down there, okay?” The remnants of saliva inside her did little to help his advances, and her gaze constantly shifted back to Danielle still sleeping just a couple feet away. Would their relationship really come to an end just because he didn’t get laid? His reasoning almost made sense, maybe she should let it happen. She stared down at the pillow while struggling to decide.

An angry demanding shove forward, out of nowhere, suddenly sunk his entire length into the petite girl. Her fragile hymen tore and disappeared. Her pussy instantly clenched down hard, a futile attempt to expel the invader while she sharply inhaled through her nose. Everything inside her felt sore, stuffed, stretched! For the first time in her life, she had the entire length of a cock wedged into the deepest parts of her cunt. She hadn’t even noticed herself groaning into his palm, a sound of pure defeat.

While Minsoo remained still and completely sheathed within her body, Hanni gradually became aware of...more. The shape of his cock. Every ridge, every bump, every vein. She fit like a glove, that soft warm flesh of her deflowered womanhood offered a loving embrace around every inch of his manhood. It was an intimate connection unlike anything else she ever experienced. Even moments after his rough intrusion she could feel her insides rhythmically tensing up and squeezing down on his erection. Loving spasms that caressed his appendage despite her reluctance.

It’s like her own body was betraying her. Tightness, heat, stimulation. Her pussy freely offered him everything he could’ve hoped for, including plenty of convenient space to dump his seed into.

“Come on, come on...fuck.” Hanni was vaguely aware of Minsoo’s annoyed tone, just an inch or two away from her ear. His breath was caressing her neck, it felt impossible to tell how many moments had passed.

Every sensation, every feeling, all of her attention was centered on her crotch. It’s the only thing she could do to keep her head from spinning all over again. All nerves inside her remained utterly overstimulated, firing off like a million alarms while her pussy refused to relax. She was torn between terror, confusion and uncertainty. If only she hadn’t touched that stupid alcohol. Her mind was the only thing that even remotely functioned, her body was all but useless.

Was she supposed to try and struggle, or was she meant to accept her situation however cruel it may be. The choice slipped out of her grasp when she felt herself blessed with another unfamiliar sensation.

More wetness, deep inside her loins. It was warm and gooey, pouring into her. The result of months of forced celibacy. Cloudy globs of Minsoo’s sperm were rapidly spurting into her crotch and splashing into the deepest corners of her love tunnel. His cock was quickly delivering it all, pumping and pumping it through the entire length of his manhood and depositing it inside her. Minsoo kept himself hilted inside the unfortunate girl, to make the most of his premature explosion by relishing the grip of her cunt for as long as it would last. His masculine erection continually throbbed and thrashed against her tightness, dumping as much seed as possible inside her pristine cunt. It was his first proper climax in so long that he made sure to get the absolute most of it, the idea of pulling out hadn’t even crossed his mind.

The former virgin struggled to keep up. The warm and slippery sensation... it began to awkwardly spread and ooze into every corner of her womanhood...everything inside her felt sticky and gross. It dawned on her that she just received her very first creampie, willingly or not. Her pussy had succeeded in gulping down every drop of semen that his cock had to offer. He was the first man to truly inseminate her little cunt.

His sweat dripped onto her back and he collapsed, pinning her in place and sinking his dick just a tad deeper into her abused twat. He had popped her cherry for good. The aftermath of losing her virginity was nothing to write home about either...there had been no romance involved. He didn’t kiss or cuddle her. He didn’t whisper into her ear that he loves her.

Hanni is stuck with the sensation of warm goo sloshing around within her most intimate parts.

She wasn’t even on any birth control, and there had been nothing to separate their genitals when he ejaculated all that pent-up semen into the welcoming comforts of her pussy. They had been intimately connected — like only lovers should be. It absolutely messed with her mind that she hadn’t been able to put up more of a struggle. Her only comfort was that she had done Danielle a favor, essentially by taking care of her boyfriend’s needs. While Danielle receives the cuddling and love. Hanni was only there to satisfy his cock and to carry his seed inside her — that thought was the last thing on her mind before the last remaining energy in her faded away.

Absolutely drained and exhausted, she passed out with his softening appendage still being kept in place by the lips of her cunt. Those soft folds remained neatly wrapped around the very base of his dick, just barely tight enough to prevent him from going completely flaccid. Her limit had been reached long ago and her body surrendered, there was no way she would wake up again anytime soon.

And when Minsoo woke up an hour later, it only took a few strong, deep thrusts into her before he sighed his approval — moaning into the sleeping girl’s ear while allowing his cock to twitch and squirt another helping of fresh cum deep into her unprotected loins. Two more times did his insatiable need return, and each time he took full advantage of Hanni’s peachy cunt. Every time he managed to last longer. For her final ride, nearly half an hour passed before another creampie was forced into her.

She was in absolutely no shape for repeated intercourse, not after she had just lost her virginity. Her tightness provided so much friction that she had rapidly reached her limits, and it would take her a long time before she would return to normal down there. It was her first marathon fuck, and she slept right through most of it.

Her sleep had been restless, fueled by negative emotions.

It was only sometime in the late morning when she stirred and woke up, the pesky chirping of birds surrounded the tent. An intense headache assaulted her long before she even managed to open her eyes, and she regretfully remembered the night of drinking. Those cursed birds weren’t making the morning any more pleasant. She felt like she awoke from a terrible dream, her entire body was sticky with sweat and she looked around to find herself safe and sound in her sleeping bag. Her memories weren’t all there, she couldn’t quite remember what happened after the little game they played. “Dan?” She glanced at two empty sleeping bags nearby.

Hanni slipped her arm out of the tight comforts of her sleeping bag and unzipped the sides, but she winced as soon as she attempted moving her legs. Her crotch felt horrible bruised and sore! While trying to remember what had happened after the game by the campfire, she slid the zipper down to the bottom and took a better look at herself. All of her clothes were gone. Her perky breasts had nearly a dozen of bite marks and hickeys, especially her nipples — usually pink — were reddish and tender.

A soft gasp escaped her mouth when she lowered her gaze further and spotted the current state of her womanhood. It wasn’t the sight of a subtle slit, the unremarkable view she was used to seeing between her legs. Her labia was fully engorged and red, the swollen flesh was glistening and wet after an entire night of being stimulated. The intense, pungent smell of unprotected intercourse assaulted her nostrils and she coughed in protest. The usual, ladylike smell of her vagina was overshadowed by something else. Her cunt had the smell of a good few hours of fucking.

Upon leaning forward, she also spotted a string...a cotton string dangling out from between the raw lips of her pussy. A thick, sticky substance kept the folds of her cunt almost glued together and a pool of mostly translucent fluid had gathered underneath her crotch. She gingerly touched the string and gave it a gentle tug. There’s a familiar feeling somewhere in her tummy. It’s a tampon. And it’s pretty deep inside her. It was then that she noticed the...sheer wetness inside her. It’s like someone had popped a water balloon in there. This wasn’t the normal default state, this wasn’t even arousal. Her memories came flooding back.

She carried his sperm still inside herself. Millions and billions of those grotesque tadpoles. All of them swimming around inside her genitals, hoping to find an egg. He had happily transferred the contents of his testicles into her defenseless womb without thinking of the consequences. Hell, he probably had no sperm left inside his balls at this point, all those wiggly excited things were now safely stored inside her young and receptive vagina. And the tampon kept her nicely plugged up, giving his spunk all the time it needed to get the job done. The fool probably thought he was doing her a favor, a real gentleman, plugging her up like this so that she wouldn’t spent the entire night leaking cum.

Again she felt her stomach churning. Her highest priority was to get back to the city and to get a morning after pill. At least he had been right about one thing, she really didn’t care about her virginity all that much. Sex is just that, a physical act. Dick goes into vagina, both participants have a good time, dick pulls out and you’re done. Nothing special.

When she stood up, Hanni could feel the mass of goo shifting around somewhere inside her flat stomach. She’s gonna have to remove that tampon as soon as possible, this felt just too weird. It sent a cold shiver down her spine. It’s creepy that a guy had taken full control of her lady parts like that, and it felt even weirder to think that she’s carrying a batch of his DNA inside her crotch. Literally the only purpose of that stuff was to plant a baby in her tummy, it was repulsive.

Hanni carefully gathered her panties and her shirt and began to get dressed, enough to conceal the awkward cotton string dangling below and to hide the marks on her tits. Every step made her wince in discomfort, but she simply couldn’t leave the tent while naked.

Upon brushing the flap aside to peer outside of the tent, she spotted Danielle and her boyfriend by the campfire as if nothing had even happened. The two lovebirds were affectionately cuddling and whispering sweet nothings into each other’s ears. It was a golden opportunity for Hanni to sneak just behind the tent, squat down, and to peel the crotch of her undies aside before removing the plug that had kept her sealed for lord knows how many hours.

A gush of liquids spilled out of her almost instantly, and she gasped at the awkward realization that nearly all of it was just...remnants of serving as that guy’s cum dumpster for a night. It poured out of her tender slit. The pressure faded rapidly, and as soon as it did, the stream began to trickle down her inner thigh to create even more of a mess. “No! No, no...shit.” This wasn’t at all like in the movies, why did she have to put up with this humiliation when she hadn’t even been the one to enjoy an orgasm? She reluctantly stayed put, awkwardly peeing out that guy’s cum for the next few minutes...

Simultaneously, Danielle experienced a whole different kind of adventure. She was entirely locked up in her own little world of fun and experimentation, knowing nothing of the struggle that happened just a few feet away. Her eyes were fixated on what was just a few inches in front of her face. “Are you sure? I didn’t think we would need this. I’m not even sure if it works,” Danielle laughed nervously, staring at the object of her desire.

“Yeah of course it’s going to work, Dan. Just try it.” Minsoo did his best to reassure her, right now there was only one thing he could think about.

“All right! I’m going to do it!” With a nervous grin, Danielle continued holding onto the heavy cast iron skillet before squeezing a big chunk of pancake batter out of the plastic bottle, which she held in the other hand. As soon as the thick fluid spread into a large enough circle in the midst of the pan, she moved the frying pan to hold it over the open flame of their wild campfire. Soon enough, the batter formed bubbles and she yelped in amazement upon flicking her wrist and successfully flipping the pancake in the process. She felt like a master chef. This was her world. This was all she ever wanted, pure joy.

“This is the best thing ever!” she cheered in bliss. Cooking in the kitchen just didn’t quite feel as special and raw as this. After preparing the first few pancakes, she also spotted her friend appearing from behind the tent. “Han! Breakfast is ready! I didn’t even know you were awake!” The petite girl approached on unsteady feet, more hungover than anyone else by the looks of it.

“Ye-yeah. Nice. Coming.” Hanni struggled to keep herself from walking bow-legged. The events of last night need to remain a secret for the time being, regardless of what’s going to happen in the future. Her gaze lingered on her bestie instead of the guy by her side — she couldn’t bear the thought of looking at the one who pounded her into submission just a few hours prior. She could still vividly remember the distinct feeling of his dick as it plunged into her over and over. Up until then, nothing had made her feel so out of control. But after what happened, it didn’t even feel like her pussy was still entirely her own. A part of her now belonged to him. She couldn’t deny that there had been some weird, primal connection between them. Perhaps sex was more than just a physical thing after all.

Hanni half-heartedly nibbled on her breakfast while sitting on her lonely bench by herself.

“Oh I almost forgot!” Danielle interrupted. “I got...some good news and some bad news, which do you wanna hear first?” she asked while looking over to her absent-minded girlfriend.

“I guess the good news? Are we leaving after breakfast? I need...to do something. We gotta stop by the pharmacy. I’m not feeling so well.” She took another bite of the pancake and lazily chewed the soft texture.

“Well that’s going to be a wee bit problematic. I mean you see, the good news is that you’re gonna get to enjoy the mountain air a little longer since we may be here for a bit.” A nervous laughter followed and a faint blush crept onto Danielle’s cheeks. “You see, I kind of forget the car keys in the ignition, so the car battery’s all dead. It doesn’t help that our phones can’t get a signal here. But!” she said while reaching an arm forward and raising her index finger to the sky. “Don’t you worry! I had told my parents where we are going. They’re on a trip for the weekend but they’re without a doubt going to pick us up as soon as they return! With some rationing, our food’s easily gonna last for two days! Two or three days and we’re gonna be rescued with an amazing story to tell! So yea, take the good with the bad, yup?”

Hanni’s heart sunk right down into the dirt beneath her feet. She doesn’t have two days, even one day would be stretching it. Remnants of his spunk still lingered inside her. At this rate she would’ve left home as pristine virgin, and she’s bound to return home as freshly pregnant teenager just a few days later. This camping trip had been just the worst so far.

She could feel Minsoo’s gaze stripping her again. He’s an asshole all right, and there’s no doubt he’s had sexual intercourse with her without a trace of consent, and his sperm has got to be one of the most vile things she’s ever had the displeasure of dealing with...but she couldn’t deny that having his cock inside her tender slit felt lewd, perverse...natural.

And now that Minsoo had gotten a taste of the paradise Hanni’s carrying between her legs, he couldn’t wait to get back in there and to continue where he had stopped. Strangely enough for Hanni, a tiny part inside her was actually beginning to look forward to it. There had been countless times when Danielle and her gossiped and chatted about that curiosity, about what it may be like to have sex.

Neither of them had ever been in a position to experience it, but now Hanni had a chance. Her memories of the first encounter were foggy at best...but simply by remaining quiet about the ordeal, she would soon enough be forced to repeat the encounter. While sober. Perhaps it would feel good this time. Better. It could even end up feeling amazing, like the only part she’s been missing her whole life.

Needless to say, breakfast had done nothing but to fill the teen with more anxiety and reasons to doubt both herself, and the situation she’s in. At least she didn’t have to worry about it until nighttime, or so she thought.

“All right...” Danielle glanced back at her childhood friend. Something was quite clearly upsetting her a lot, and Dan had nobody to blame but herself for the dead car. “Since we might be stuck here for at least two or three days, I guess we should try to make the most of the situation, right?” The reasons eluded her, but both her boyfriend and Hanni had been completely distracted. As far as she knew, they were bothered by the dire circumstances. “How about you two stick around and give it another try to fix the car battery? Han is good with electronics, and Min knows how to handle a car!”

She reaffirmed her beliefs with a confident nod. “And for the worst case scenario, I’ll go ahead and grab the backpack with some snacks and see if I can find a lake somewhere nearby. At least we can take a bath and clean ourselves if I find one. I did notice you two were a bit sweaty...but no pressure. It’s supposed to be a hot day today, so a bit of sweat is normal. I’m sure I will find something!”

“Wa-wait, already? I think you should stick around for a bit.” That nervous stutter was more than enough for Minsoo to realize that Hanni must have remembered what happened during the night — if the sticky mess between her legs hadn’t already clued her in. That simple thought was already enough to fill him with a familiar ache in his loins and an urge to bend her over again. On the contrary to his expectations, the rumors about the petite girl were true. Her pussy was the tightest he’s ever had, and the orgasms with her were addictive. He could still remember struggling to pull out of her in the early morning, it was like a damned vacuum seal, her cunt was practically sucking him right back in.

“I think that’s a great idea Dan,” Minsoo pointed out. “If anything happens, just yell and I’ll be right there for ya,” he added while leaning in to give Danielle a kiss on the cheek. She beamed with pride and quickly retrieved her backpack. She was determined to make them happy.

“Okay! Great! If you do manage to fix the car, don’t forget to pick me up before leaving!” The way he suddenly seemed to be at ease was enough motivation for Danielle to get right to it — if finding some fresh water would be enough to redeem her for her mistake, then that’s something she would happily do, without hesitation. “I’ll see you guys later, good luck!” With that, she took a quick look around the area before walking forward and entering the shadowy area of dense forest vegetation.

Which left Hanni entirely alone with the guy who had stolen her virginity. They sat on different benches just a few feet from each other, and he stared at her. There was no love or affection between them. No romance. What they both felt was little more than pure instinct, a physical need. They both had something which the other person needed, like two pieces of a puzzle.

Hanni could feel it. Despite her hesitation, her body was already taking over in anticipation of what’s likely to happen. She could feel the blood rushing into her crotch, her natural lubrication began to flow more freely, and a vague emptiness inside her was yearning to be filled. She didn’t even like the guy! Even less so after he casually blackmailed her. But her pussy was trembling and aching. Subtle contractions squeezed her pussy around an imaginary invader, and jolts of pleasure teased her from head to toe. Every spasm left her a little more breathless.

“Same deal as before. Get naked, or I’m going to break up with Dan.” A long moment of silence followed while her eyes wandered across the earthy ground, pondering her options. Almost in slow motion did Hanni eventually give in and surrender to Minsoo request. She hadn’t always been a perfect friend to Dan, but at least like this she could keep that relationship intact. Assuming he didn’t break his word. Plus, she couldn’t deny being at least a little curious about what sex is like without being drunk.

Her petite hands moved down to grab the thin fabric of her panties, and she gradually pulled them down her slender legs until she held the bundle in her hand. Even now, her peachy slit was glowing red and had dried white flecks of cum across her labia. Her inner conflict grew even more when his hungry gaze pinpointed that delicate triangle between her legs. “Just... just promise to keep it secret, okay? Don’t tell Dan...and you have to pull out! You can’t come inside me!” She quickly dropped a hand down to block the view at her battered womanhood.

This was a terrible idea, what was she thinking? She once more realized that she’s entirely unprotected, there would be absolutely nothing to separate them once he’s inside her. Bareback, that’s how they would be doing it. There was too much at stake, and she definitely didn’t want to get knocked up before graduating. She didn’t want to get knocked up at all. The idea was repulsive, she didn’t want to carry some guy’s DNA inside her belly for nine months.

“You are way, way overthinking this,” Minsoo told her while approaching. It was easy for him to pick her up, one quick arm underneath her knees and one to support her back, just like that he lifted her up and she yelped in surprise. He began carrying her towards the tent, the same place where he robbed her of her virginity. This is what he had always wanted. Not a girl in her mid-twenties, who already fucked a dozen guys and learned to rely on rubbing her clit just to tease an orgasm out of her twat.

He was Hanni’s first. He had a chance to teach her what she’s allowed to enjoy. In addition, her body was untainted and never endured all the chemical changes that can be caused by using a hormonal birth control. Plunging into her bare, unprotected cunny was as natural and desirable as it could get.

He could barely wait to bust another nut inside her, to force her vagina to absorb more of his spunk. It’s like a delicate ecosystem in there. Dump enough sperm inside and things will go haywire. He looked forward to filling her many more times. Until he managed to erase every last trace of the girly scent her vagina used to produce, and she’s stuck with the musk of his own semen continually escaping her slit. He loved the idea of completely owning her sexuality. Even if she were to sneak off to rub an orgasm out of her little cunt, she would be forced to inhale the warm pungent smell of his cum as soon as she got wet enough. It would be an instantaneous reminder that her pussy belonged to his dick and nothing else.

Hanni had no idea of the consequences if she were to keep welcoming him with spread legs and a bruised cunt willing to accommodate his fuck-stick, despite the discomfort his size was causing her.

“I ain’t overthinking anything, okay!? Dan is my best friend so this is something I do only for her sake. And you can’t come inside me! Do you even know how high the risks are? The average sperm count of a normal ejaculation is-” Hanni was instantly interrupted when Minsoo dropped her onto the blankets and zips the tent back up, closing the only exit. “Ou-ouch...what the hell, man?” She had dropped right on her perky bum, and rubbed the sore cheek. She didn’t even notice that she was sitting spread-eagled and gave him a good view of her pussy. There was a faint glistening, a shimmer of arousal. It was obvious that her body was at least slightly interested in repeating their previous encounter.

“It’s just sex, all right? What do you think a pussy is for anyway? That’s like...literally what it’s made for. I think you spent way too much time on the internet or something, just accept you’re not a guy. You are a girl. This is your purpose.” Minsoo began removing his shirt, followed by his pants. “You’ve got a perfect little cunt down there, so we’re going to use it. I’m going to use you. The less you talk during it, the better.”

A furious blush crept across Hanni’s cheeks. Did he seriously just dare reducing her to little more than what is between her legs? She furrowed her eyebrows. That charming personality he’s putting on around Danielle had all but disappeared, he didn’t even attempt to be pleasant. He spat into his hand and once more lowered it down to her crotch before thrusting two of his fingers into her, coaxing a gasp out of the startled teenager. He gradually moved those digits back and forth, spreading his saliva inside her.

“Did no one ever tell you that’s...gross and unhygienic?” She gazed down and looked at the vile combination of lubrication her pussy was coated in. A mixture of her own juices, his frothy spit, and old cum that had still been inside her. He was able to shove his fingers in much deeper than in the past. Her hymen was no longer in the way. He had made sure that one is permanently gone.

Even if he was right and getting laid is just a simple matter, it was still heavily nagging on Hanni’s mind that he treated her like a pile of meat. On the other hand, it was difficult to care a whole lot about having sex one more time, considering the...current state of her vagina. It wasn’t flattering. She was a sloppy mess down there. His choice of words was pretty spot on. This didn’t look like a cute virginal slit anymore. It was a cunt, one that looked like it had been fucked a few times, by a cock that had been just a tad bit too large to fit in properly. Nothing would change if she took him in just one more time.

It was so incredibly difficult to think straight with so many emotions in her head. She felt furious but excited. She felt shame and arousal.

He removed his underwear and revealed his cock once again, semi-erect. It was slowly pulsing to life, still growing and hardening. It’s the first time that she saw one in person, in broad daylight. It was veiny and grotesque, dicks are not an attractive sight. But it didn’t need to be. She knew where to hide his fat erection. Inside her.

A warm throb echoed through her crotch and she was reminded of that dull empty feeling inside her. It was disgusting how needy her body felt. It only grew stronger when she inhaled that musky scent of sex that still originated from her pussy despite her earlier attempts to clean up. It was their combined smell, their mingled juices, his cum as well as her own. Her vaginal walls were saturated with it, her pink flesh had soaked up every last drop of their intimate encounter and she knew that she would never again feel clean on the inside.

“Whatever,” the feisty girl added with her eyes embarrassingly glued to his appendage. She remembered his insulting preference to take her from behind, and reluctantly rolled over onto her belly. It was a mutual preference, at least this way she didn’t have to look him in the eyes while he used her. It only took him a few seconds to climb on top of her while he kept a fist wrapped around his chubby dick. He placed it right up against the entrance of her well fucked pussy, and unceremoniously shoved it inside with a single greedy thrust until her labia snugly engulfed the base of his member.

“Ahnn! Nnhaah!!!” Hanni tensed up, every muscle in her body went stiff, and it suddenly felt like her entire cunt was stretched to the brim to make space for his cock! However, she knew well enough by now that complaining or whining would just urge him on to be even more of a dimwit. Minsoo proceeded to hold himself there for a few more moments while she endured that unpleasant, sharp feeling somewhere in the back of her lady parts. Unbeknownst to her, he had managed to hilt his entire length within her — that smooth crown of his dick touched the end of her love tunnel, smooching her cervix. A milky bead of his pre-cum already escaped his tip, joining what he had dumped inside her during the night.

He began with slow, steady thrusts. Mechanically. Fucking into her and loosening her up from the inside. Every now and then he would change the position of his hips a little bit to the left or right, causing him to thrust in at an unusual angle and straining her insides further. Hanni didn’t make a sound, she was firmly biting down on her pillow to prevent herself from moaning out loud. There was a growing feeling of pleasure the longer he kept going, her pussy was surprisingly quick to adjust. It was humiliating to think that she was gaining something so pleasant out of having sexual intercourse with her friend’s boyfriend, it was so wrong but was beginning to feel so incredibly right.

Her bigger concern was that she noticed how it wasn’t merely the presence of his meaty package which turned her on so immensely, it was also the needle-like sharp pain whenever he pushed too deep. It made her flinch and groan into the pillow, but it felt so oddly arousing at the same time. It was a good pain.

His pace quickened, and his carelessness grew. Both of his hands grabbed a tight hold of her hips while he aggressively hammered into her snatch, filling the small tent with the audible sound of sex. His crotch slammed against her shapely ass repeatedly and audibly, akin to getting spanked, and it only drove her crazier. Hanni could feel herself reaching it, the peak, way up high and just barely out of reach.

But then he simply groaned into her ear and collapsed on top of her. He had finished just as she was about to have a good time. His entire weight fell onto her backside, which in turn pressed her breasts uncomfortably against the ground. They had been bruised already, so this pushed her right off track and ruined her orgasm.

Instead, she was treated to a warm wet sensation spreading inside her loins, and the dull throbbing of his appendage while he pumped wave upon wave of fresh cloudy cum into her receptive cunt. His balls contracted rhythmically, dutifully delivering his seed at a rapid pace, as nature intended. She immediately blamed herself more so than anyone else — she should’ve known better. Of course he didn’t pull out. This was her punishment. She’s his cum receptacle.

However, Hanni could feel her own excitement coming right back at the thought of him using her for nothing but his own selfish desires. It’s the first time a guy had ever shown such an obsession with her, even if that interest lingered mostly on her privates. She could feel her heart beating faster. Her skin tingled with desire. By sheer instinct she suddenly began to buck her hips back against him while inhaling sharply. Her own eyes widened in surprise as she felt spikes of pure pleasure thundering through her entire being, robbing her breath and making her acutely aware that she’d just climaxed at the mere thought of being used like this.

A small orgasm, but she’d undeniably gotten off to the thought of being his puppet. She enjoyed that he cared so little about her that he didn’t even bother to pull out. For a split second, she even thought she could feel his sperm as it began to swarm her cervix, swimming inside, chasing down the egg that may be waiting inside her. “Oh god...what the hell is wrong with my pussy, why does this turn me on so much,” she mumbled to herself, after which she immediately rushed a hand up to cover her mouth. She did not mean to say that out loud!

She waited. She couldn’t tell if Minsoo had managed to hear her words. He must have, considering she could feel his breath on her cheek. Slow and calm. “Wait, are you...” Raising an eyebrow, she twisted her head to glance up at his face and confirm her suspicions. He had fallen asleep, with his flaccid dick still lodged inside her womanhood and his weary testicles resting against her tenderized labia. She was uncomfortable, sweaty, and the obscene scent of unprotected sex began spreading inside the small tent...it couldn’t get any worse.

Until someone began unzipping the tent...and Danielle stuck her head inside with an innocent expression on her face.

“Where is everyo-” she interrupted herself, after which she at first coughed in disgust, and then took a step back. “What the...Han? Min? What’s going on?! What are you two...?” Her gaze lowered down to where their genitals were still connected. The vaginal lips of her best friend were horribly stretched around the thick penis of her boyfriend. She struggled to believe her eyes. Unlike Hanni, she was a devout religious person and had never even seen the privates of someone other than herself. Her world begun spinning, she felt dizzy, this couldn’t be...

“Da...Dan! This isn’t what it looks...no, I can explain!” as the girlfriend just kept watching from the entrance of the tent, watching the way her friend suddenly squirmed and struggled to try and get free from underneath her lover. Danielle stumbled backwards on unsteady feet before collapsing to the ground. The shock had been too much for her to endure. She passed out.

Her vision went black.

It felt impossible to tell how much time passed.

Consciousness returned only slowly and Danielle couldn’t manage to open her eyes just yet. She could however hear and listen well enough, to the sound of flesh slapping against flesh. There was also a distinctly wet and slippery sound, a perverse squelch that accompanied the rhythm. Danielle parted her eyes and found herself on top of her sleeping bag with a blanket to cover her. She was inside the tent.

And in plain sight, she watched Hanni on all fours, completely naked, with widely parted legs while being taken from behind. Each eager thrust from her partner caused a small shockwave to ripple up along her body, the force caused her breasts to jiggle and bounce in tune to the primitive pounding. She still couldn’t believe it. How could this have happened? Her heart broke into a thousand pieces, and shattered into another thousand each time she listened to the sound of their lovemaking.

“I’m breaking up with you,” Danielle spoke weakly, her voice trembling. “This is disgusting! You are both disgusting...!” Minsoo glanced at her for just a moment before gazing right back at the ravishing girl he mated with. He had a newfound interest in knocking her up. It was entirely new to him, but the idea of inseminating Hanni’s cunt and forcing a baby into her belly was hot. She had to be the most petite girl he had ever seen, and it was a thrill to think how she may look like with his child growing inside her.

“I don’t even care anymore, you should’ve introduced me to your friend earlier.” He began speeding up, feverishly fucking into that pristine pussy. There was no grace to his actions, this was all about taking charge. “It took a single day to get into her panties, and she gets off on being treated like a slut,” he added. “She’s prime fuck-meat. A perfect little whore.”

Right there between the teenager’s legs was their visible connection. Minsoo’s hairy crotch repeatedly met with the hairless opening into Hanni’s pleasure box. It was an airtight vacuum. Nothing escaped her, nothing else entered her. They had become one, together. Every inch of cunt meat inside her was stretched taut around his erection.

Hanni buried her face in the pillow, both to muffle her gasps and sighs, but also to hide her face. It stung that he was telling the truth. When he finally reached his orgasm to end the ordeal, he used his grip on her waist to sheathe every inch of his dick inside her while uttering a guttural, pleased groan. He injected her with multiple thick bursts of his semen, pumping her full until it was overflowing and dribbling out of her peach to join the puddle underneath her crotch. Hanni cried into the pillow upon feeling her own climax triggered by the sheer humiliation of it all. Her body shivered uncontrollably. She hated just how much she loved the discovery of her own perversion. It wasn’t going to end. She had gotten addicted to it. At this point she would do almost anything just to keep her womanhood stuffed with his prick as much as humanly possible. They belonged together.

And so, for the following three days, Danielle had no choice but to accept the new circumstances. She lost the two people she cared most about. Not only that, but she had to watch them — and listen to them — having sex for nearly the entire time up in the mountains.

The two lovers didn’t care for the lack of privacy. They went through every possible position, wherever they could, while keeping Danielle as spectator. The entire campsite reeked of their combined cum. When they ran out of clean clothes, they simply remained naked. It wouldn’t make a difference. Hanni kept a rich coating of dried semen along her thighs and her entire vulva was kept sticky and gooey. Minsoo had remained true to his words, every creampie was served directly into the girl’s twat while Dan had to watch helplessly.

When her parents came to pick everyone up, the car was dead silent. Overall, it was the complete opposite of what Danielle had hoped to achieve with the spontaneous camping trip. She never told her parents what happened. She cut off all contact with everyone, to focus on her studies. To distract herself. To pretend none of it ever happened.

Her only relief, bitter-sweet as it may be, was seeing a familiar face a few months later at the prom party towards the end of high school. Hanni wore her jet-black hair in a long ponytail, cute red blush adorned her cheeks. She almost looked like a princess. Almost.

Some girls envied her, others laughed at her. She was the only girl at prom with a big healthy baby bump.

#hanni smut #newjeans smut #kpop smut #girl group smut #female idol smut #male reader

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muneca-lemon-steppa · 9 months ago

Note

Alfie noticing that guys who are way younger than him (like Michael? John?) having a thing for reader, who is close to age to these young gentlemen but has only eyes for ol' man Alfie? Thoughts?

Near Deadly Sin

Alfie Solomons x F!Reader; fluff

AN: IM BAAAAACCCCKKK hello my loves it’s taking me forever to write again but I’m glad to be back. I miss you all and hope you all are doing well!!! MUAH - Mo

No. No this acidic flame burning between his ribs is not jealousy.

Not at all.

The embers stoked in his chest. The flames licking up his neck and around his ears. These are normal… manly… sensible reactions.

Alfie had been invited for ‘drinks’ with the Shelbys. He had refused adamantly, and was only coerced upon your promise to accompany him and to never. leave. his. sight. As if you would ever be far from him or out of his thunderous gaze. But as he is sitting across from Thomas and Arthur and Polly, he is regretting ever bringing you near this nonsense. This den of wolves and snakes. The murmurs of Thomas faded like the crackle of a radio as he focused in on John Shelby’s lustful gaze over you. With every sweep of his young and unbridled eyes and suck of his teeth, Alfie became more and more enraged. Not that you noticed. You didn’t notice John’s roving eyes or the quickening pulse of your husband next to you. You were content sipping the tea Polly served, making quiet conversation with Ada in the corner, holding a babbling Karl.

Alfie knew there was supposed to be a deal or something tonight. Or maybe an update on a job. Or something. It didn’t matter. Fuck the business. Fuck the Shelbys. Fuck John Shelby. Fuck it all. Standing quickly, pushing through the screaming pain of his back, Alfie grunts, “Darling get your coat. We’re done here.”

Your head spun, “Meyn Likht?”

“Up. Coat. Now. Cyril needs us.”

You press your lips in a firm line. Holding back your tongue from lashing at him for his impromptu exit. You knew what he actually meant. Thinking of Cyril was his code for indicating murderous intent that needed to be snuffed out immediately. You watch Alfie as you slip on your coat, going to Thomas to whisper something just out of your reach. Had you heard him, you would have heard the volcanic timber of his voice promise, “You control that little brother of yours Tommy yeah? It’s against holy law to look at another man’s wife like he been doing. Will have to go back to Mosaic law if he don’t shape up.”

With heavy stomps he approaches John, who is trying yet failing to keep a stone expression. “You keep them eyes to yourself little boy. Or someone may just take ‘em from you.”

“Darling? Cyril needs to be let out and will not wait for you!”

With a firm pat on the cheek Alfie turned away, gripping your waist firmly, hand as hot as a brand on the skin under your dress.

It’s late now, Alfie is fuming under the crisp sheets and thick quilts layered living on the soft bed. He’s pretending to read. Putting on his glasses and taking them back off again to stare at the ceiling. You emerge from the bathroom, face flush from the hot water, and hair pulled away from your bare shoulders. Arms crossed across your chest, you sit on Alfie’s side of the bed, “You want to talk about it like a grown up now?”

He huffs and shifts lower into the bed, as if to hide from you. With a shrug you walk back to your side, shuffling your sock feet across. You crawl back in bed, back to Alfie to let him fume. It was better than fighting with him to get him to share his feelings.

“He was looking at you.”

“Well Karl is a baby darling.”

“Not Karl! John fucking Shelby! Little bastard was undressing you with his eyes! And you said nothing!”

Ah… there it was.

You let yourself sit up to look at your husband’s face. Folded up into himself, glasses precariously balanced on his nose, cheeks ruddy from rage. Jealousy was his greatest sin and vice. Bigger than rage. Bigger than his love of rum. He was an only child and as such he grew into a man who did not like to share. Not even your image. You curled up next to him, like a cat preening for attention. “Meyn Likht… I didn’t even see him. You shouldn’t be jealous of a figure of vapor.”

“What you don’t notice the… the young men just staring at you? Gapped mouths like dead fish?”

“Those children?” You hum, gently kissing his scruffy jaw and temple.

“Those… men closer in age… to you.”

With that you crawl into his lap, looping your arms around his broad shoulders. “Darling… what could I do with those men? I’d break them.”

“Break them?” He chuckles, gripping you tighter.

“They’re too soft. Too pretty. No. I like my men… rougher… more sturdy… someone who can stand strong and not worry about their pretty face getting dirty. I like my old man.”

“Do you now?”

“Love him even. Deliriously in love with him. Couldn’t live without him.”

Before you could take another breath, he was on you, kissing all over your face, tickling you with his rough beard and mustache. “Good Lord woman you make me feel 20 again.”

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons x you #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons x y/n #peaky blinder fanfic

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pumpkinbxtch · 7 months ago

Text

— two people, one umbrella ∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠° headcanons

the hoO boys when starts to rain and there's just one umbrella. ft. apollo

who's here: frank zhang, jason grace, leo valdez, percy jackson and apollo

warnings: none

a/n: its friday, so headcanons arrives here. kisses for y'all. enjoy.

— frank *⁠.⁠✧

This guy doesn't hesitate for a second, he's got you covered with the umbrella, most (if not all) of it.

"I don't want you getting sick," he says while holding the umbrella.

He's so tall he doesn't need to raise it any higher than necessary, and you keep pushing it toward the center so each of you gets at least a little covered.

He might pretend he's covered, but his shoulder is getting terribly soaked.

He's thinking about the shape-shift, imagining what it would be like if you had a canary on your shoulder while walking in the dry, safe rain.

But in the end, he obeys you. He takes your hand and tries to cover both of you (because he thought he might get sick, then you'd want to help him, and he doesn't want to bother you).

— jason *⁠.⁠✧

Once the umbrella is fully open, he figures out the best way for both of you to be covered, always putting you first in his mind.

He moves you in front of him, but he can see you might trip.

He considers just covering you, but he knows you'd both end up fighting and getting wet anyway.

So, he wraps his arm around your waist to pull you closer. Now, you're both under the umbrella, dry.

He smiles at you and takes advantage of the closeness to kiss your cheek and your knuckles.

“let me, my love” he says soflty if you try to help him with the umbrella.

He's the type to hold your hand and tuck it into his jacket to keep you warm.

Another thing he could do is control the air so the umbrella holds itself up and you can walk together even more comfortably.

— leo *⁠.⁠✧

"I already anticipated that!" he exclaimed when he saw that both of you weren't completely covered by the umbrella he was carrying and smiled eagerly at you.

He presses a button on the umbrella's handle and it expands even more, Hurray! You're both covered.

But...

As you continue walking on the sidewalk, Leo looks at other couples in similar positions, only much closer, cuddling and lovingly playing around, while the umbrella with the improvements he invented works so well that you even walk a bit away from him.

Oh no... :(

He wants to do those cheesy things with you too, and he plays the fool.

If a child of Hephaestus can fix something, they can also break it, so he presses the button too hard, for breaking it. The extra space is gone.

"What happened?" you ask confused, some drops start to wet your hair, and Leo smiles seeing how beautiful the dew looks on you,

he just shrugs "I don't know, I guess it doesn't work anymore" he says uninterestedly, and he pulls you to him impatiently,

definitely using some of his warmth so you don't get cold.

He adjusts himself, hugs you, and you walk together.

— percy *⁠.⁠✧

He literally gives a fuck if it rains or not, so the problem is, he never carries an umbrella.

But that's because he can control his waterproofing. If Percy Jackson doesn't want to get wet, he won't, but you're not him.

"Don't worry, babe," he says with a confident smile as you cover yourself with your hand from the increasingly heavy rain.

He bites his lips and looks above you, now the rain avoids you both, and you're no longer getting wet.

He winks at you, and you hug him sideways. Let the mist take care of what others see, and he leans in for a kiss. You give it to him.

suddenly feeling the drops hitting your hair again. For a few seconds, neither of you cares, and he hugs you, prolonging the kiss.

A kiss in the rain.

When the water trickles down your noses and you can taste some of those drops, you break apart with a giggle.

"Oops," he says, and he focuses again to keep you both rain-free.

Though you run to get home as soon as possible because for Percy, it's hard not to want to stop and kiss and cuddle you.

— apollo *⁠.⁠✧

He's a god, and the god of the Sun. He could literally make a few calls to get rid of that silly rain bothering his beloved.

But oh no, Apollo lives for the drama, for love, it's for the feelings he exist, so he conjures up an umbrella and covers you.

Apollo will definitely sing "Singing in the Rain" while dragging you along and giving you gentle spins.

For him, it's such a mundane moment, but because he's with you, he wants to turn it into the greatest musical ever told, because it's for the two of you and for him, it's better.

He takes your hand and swings it with great humor.

He's literally a sun walking on the streets full of people grumpy because of the bad weather and a gray, cloudy landscape.

When he sees you smile and chuckle, his spirit overflows with joy, and unintentionally, the sun appears among those clouds, and the rainbow makes a nice trio in the sky.

He gives you a peck on the lips when you raise your eyebrows at his mischief.

"I can't help it," he says with a smile and links your arm with his to continue the walk.

*⁠.⁠✧

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lumberrobot · 2 months ago

Text

Floral Sentiments

pham hanni x fem!reader

notes: found this random prompt on this site so might as well try to write something with it 'cause I was too lazy to think of an actual plot oiaiwdiwd (adv happy birthday hanni :DD)

warning/s: first post wapondiwnf

genre: fluff

prompt: person a owns a flower shop and person b comes storming in one day, slaps 20 bucks on the counter and says “how do I passive-aggressively say fuck you in flower?”

Hanni was used to quiet mornings in her flower shop. The soft hum of the shop's speakers, mingling with the subtle fragrance of fresh blooms, always put her at ease. Sipping her tea, she glanced at her to-do list—rearranging vases, watering the orchids—nothing out of the ordinary. She figured it would be a slow day. No major holidays loomed on the horizon, aside from those quirky ones no one really celebrated. Who the hell buys flowers for No Pants Day?

Mid-rearranging a vase of sunflowers, their golden petals glowing like tiny suns, the familiar chime of the doorbell broke her tranquility. She turned to see a girl, about her age, standing by the counter. Dark eyes, arms crossed, a scowl softening as she took in the shop’s surroundings. Hanni removed her gloves and walked over, curiosity piqued.

The girl slapped a $20 bill on the counter without so much as a greeting. “How do I passive-aggressively say ‘fuck you’ in flowers?”

Hanni blinked. Did I hear that right? She tilted her head slightly, unsure how to respond.

"Uh, excuse me, what?" Hanni asked, her voice tentative. She tried not to stare, but the girl's unexpected beauty and intensity threw her off balance.

“Did I stutter?” the girl snapped, though the sharpness in her voice softened. Her shoulders relaxed, and a small, awkward smile crept across her lips. “Sorry. That came out wrong.”

Hanni let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. “No worries,” she said, grinning. “Just... I’ve never had that kind of request before.”

The girl chuckled, her posture loosening even more. "Yeah, I figured. Thanks for not kicking me out. I’m Y/N, by the way."

“Hanni” she replied, still amused by the oddness of it all.

Y/N nodded, then sighed, frustration flickering across her face. “Long story, trust me.”

“Well,” Hanni said, glancing around the empty shop, “lucky for you, I’ve got all day.”

She gestured for Y/N to take a seat, and the girl hesitated before pulling out a chair from the corner of the small shop. As Y/N settled down, Hanni caught a glimpse of the tension in her face—something deeper than just the initial shock value of the request.

“So,” Hanni began, “what’s the story behind the flower-inspired ‘fuck you’?”

Y/N leaned back, exhaling as if she were about to confess a deep secret. She stared at a bouquet nearby, eyes narrowing. “So, there’s this guy…”

Hanni raised an eyebrow but stayed silent, letting Y/N explain. Flower shop drama wasn’t new to her, but Y/N didn’t seem like the type to send a bouquet for a simple apology.

“He’s my co-worker. Always making these little comments—like, pretending to compliment me but really putting me down,” Y/N muttered, frustration clear in her voice.

“Backhanded compliments,” Hanni said knowingly.

“Exactly. So, I want to give him something subtle that says, ‘I’m not as dumb as you think I am, and you should really watch yourself.’” Y/N smirked, her intensity returning.

Hanni’s eyes lit up with a playful glint. “Oh, I can work with that.”

She moved around the shop, scanning the flowers and tapping her chin in thought. A few minutes later, she started rearranging various blooms, carefully crafting a combination that would carry the perfect passive-aggressive undertone. Y/N watched as Hanni worked, her frown melting into curiosity.

The bouquet slowly took shape, flowers layered in ways that would seem beautiful at first glance but carried hidden messages for those who knew what to look for. Hanni worked in silence, fully focused, occasionally glancing up to see if Y/N approved. Y/N, for her part, seemed content to let Hanni work her magic.

After what felt like a short eternity, Hanni stepped back, admiring her creation. “There you go,” she said, giving a small, satisfied smile. “This should get your message across.”

Y/N inspected the bouquet with a satisfied smile. “This is perfect. Thanks, Hanni.”

As she reached for her bag, she paused, as if considering something. “Hey, one more thing…”

Hanni, still basking in the satisfaction of crafting such an unusual bouquet, looked up. “Yeah?”

Y/N hesitated for a moment, an almost shy look crossing her face. “If I wanted to, you know, take someone out on a date… What kind of flowers should I get?”

The question caught Hanni off guard. A small, inexplicable pang of disappointment bloomed in her chest. She forced a smile, her thoughts racing. So she likes someone already?

“Oh, well… I’d say something simple, elegant. Something that shows interest but not too over the top. Maybe…” She trailed off, resisting the urge to let her emotions show. After a brief pause, Hanni quickly pulled together a response that was vague but safe. “Something that makes a good impression, but leaves room for more.”

Y/N smiled, clearly liking the idea. “Got it. Thanks again, Hanni.”

With that, Y/N turned and left, bouquet in hand, the bell above the door chiming softly as she disappeared into the street.

Hanni stood there, watching her leave, a strange heaviness settling in her chest. She shook her head, trying to brush off the disappointment. It was silly.

Y/N was just another customer… right?

=========

The next day, Hanni arrived at her shop early, her thoughts still swirling with the remnants of her encounter with Y/N. As she approached the door, ready to unlock it, something caught her eye.

On the doorstep lay a beautiful bouquet, a gorgeous arrangement—simple, elegant, just like she had described, wrapped delicately in brown paper and tied with twine. A note was tucked among the flowers, and Hanni’s heart raced as she crouched down to pick it up.

Opening the note, she read:

“For you. Hope you like them. - Y/N”

Below the message, Y/N’s number was written neatly in her familiar handwriting. Hanni stared at the flowers, a warm smile spread across her face as she took in the arrangement. Her heart skipped a beat as she realized what had just happened.

As she finally unlocked the door and stepped inside, the sunlight streamed in, casting a warm glow over the flowers. She placed the bouquet on the counter, feeling a flutter of excitement in her chest.

Maybe Y/N wasn’t just another customer after all.

#newjeans imagines #new jeans x reader #newjeans x reader #newjeans imagine #hanni x reader #newjeans #newjeans hanni #kpop x reader

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yaniiiiism · 30 days ago

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you love rain, i love you. ꒰ a l.mh imagine ꒱

˖ㅤㅤ۫ ㅤㅤ ꕮ ㅤ۫ㅤ 🪜 ˖ㅤ ㅤ۫ㅤᘞ ˚ ۪ masterlist > schedule > main directory

♪┆pairing : lee minho x fem!reader ͏ ♪┆info : tsundere x sunshine , tooth rotting fluff, they're in loooovvveee, uni au (bc im obsessed), adorable, friends to lovers ♪┆ personas: uni students , close friends , brief and generic hobbies [songwriting, reading books] mention :3 ♪┆word count : 3.3k ♪┆warnings : very cutesy very demure very mindful

happy lino day !

Y/n had always loved the rain.

It poured over the town like a soft lullaby, softening the edges of buildings and trees, cloaking everything in a quiet serenity that calmed her restless heart.

Oh, how it fell without hesitation, bold yet calming, casting a peaceful blur over the colors around her. It was as though every droplet held a piece of the town’s secrets, whispering them in hushed tones to anyone who dared to listen.

In the university’s library, her thoughts floated with the rhythm of the rain against the glass, far from the textbook that lay open but untouched before her. The shelves towered around her, each one a guardian of knowledge, but her attention drifted, flitting like a restless bird.

She watched as droplets cascaded down the window beside her, blurring the shapes of people passing outside and muting the lively colors of umbrellas. The town outside seemed softer, wrapped in a cocoon of gray mist.

The lady was a bright spark against this stillness, a warmth that radiated quietly as her gaze followed the streaks of rain across the windowpane.

She fidgeted with a loose thread on her beige sweater, flipping her pen in her fingers, letting her mind wander.

The quiet library seemed to mirror another person’s presence beside her — calm and steady, unruffled by her little flares of energy that rippled across the tranquility.

It had been pouring for nearly an hour, the soft patter of water on the library windows a soothing backdrop to his quiet focus.

Minho’s focus, unwavering and cool, contrasted her own, a constant rhythm in the background of her daydreams. He sat across from her at their usual table, bent over his notes with a slight frown as he tried to concentrate on the assignment. He was meticulous, reading every line twice, tapping his pen in a steady rhythm.

Her, on the other hand, had long since given up pretending to work.

She was stretched out in her chair, head tipped back as she lazily flipped through a book she wasn’t really reading. Every so often, she would sigh dramatically, looking over at the guy with big, pleading eyes, hoping he’d say something to break the monotony.

He didn’t look up. Instead, he fixed his glasses, pushing the thin, black frame up the bridge of his nose.

“You’re not helping by sighing every five seconds, you know.”

“Maybe I would help if it wasn’t the most boring assignment in the universe,” she whined, drumming her fingers on the table.

He rolled his eyes, still focused on his paper. “Just do your part, and it’ll be done faster.”

“Or,” she frowned, glancing around as if conspiring, “I could just watch you do it. You’re so good at it, Min.” She tilted her head, giving him a teasing smile.

He gave her a blank stare. “Flattery won’t make me finish your work too.”

With a defeated sigh, she pushed herself out of the library’s velvet chair, eyes lighting up as she spotted the vending machine near the exit.

“Okay, well… at least let me get us some snacks. We both need a break.”

“Yeah, sure,” he muttered, eyes never leaving his notes.

The girl practically skipped over to the machine, fumbling for change in her bag.

She pressed a few buttons, deciding on snacks, but after a clunky whirr, the machine swallowed her coins without dropping anything.

She tapped it, then tapped it again, her brows furrowing as she gave the machine a light kick.

Oh screw you, stupid machine.

From across the room, the only other guy looked up, already smirking.

“You’re going to break it.”

She turned, shooting him a mock glare with a dissatisfied frown.

“It literally swallowed all my pennies? It owes me a snack!”

He snorted, barely hiding his annoyance yet nonchalance. “That’s the third machine you’ve broken this semester. Weren’t you banned from them by the council president or something?”

“You mean Jihoon? Please, he was only making small talk.”She rolled her eyes, turning back to the machine to shake it gently. “I just have bad luck with vending machines. They hate me.”

“Maybe they’re scared of you,” he hugged, finally leaning back in his chair, watching her with a smirk, his arms folding behind his head. “They know you’re trouble.”

She gasped, turning back to face him with feigned hurt. “You’re mean.”

“Maybe I won’t share my snacks with you now.”

He rolled his eyes, switching back to work. “Like I asked for them in the first place.”

“Oh, I know you’ll want them,” she replied, sticking her tongue out at him before giving the machine one last exasperated look.

She returned to their table empty-handed, pouting as she flopped back into her seat.

“Done causing a scene?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as he glanced over his notes at her.

“Done ignoring me?” she replied back, folding her arms with a small huff.

But even as she pouted, she was smiling, knowing full well that he was secretly enjoying every second of her company, even if he pretended otherwise.

“Can you try to focus for like at least five minutes without moving around?”

“Fine,” she said, leaning her chin on her hand, staring at him rather than her paper.

She watched him as he scribbled notes, his brows drawn together in concentration, glasses fogging up slightly as he breathed out in annoyance, his lips pressed into a faint line.

For all his grumbling, he was focused, diligent, and..

Oh, so attractive.

There was something calming about watching him work, even if she’d never let him know how much she admired him.

She lost track of time until her gaze drifted toward the window. Her eyes lit up at the sight of the rain pouring down, after having paused for a few minutes, the drops streaking the glass and creating a soft, blurred glow in the library.

“It’s raining again,” she whispered, more to herself than him.

“Yeah?” He didn’t look up, his voice absent-minded.

“Mhm!” She beamed, getting up from the chair to walk towards the closed window a few steps away.

The window was slightly foggy from the inside because the dew. Seeing that, her fingers immediately found their way onto the glass, drawing patterns.

It was as if all her worries were just.. gone, for that time. As if she was a child once again.

It was raining, and she was experiencing it again with the guy.

The same guy that had never left her side.

The same rainy day with him that marked into one of her favourite days.

Because it was with that same guy that she fell in love with.

Then her focus was interrupted when she heard his voice again.

“Done admiring the weather, pretty? You’ve got an assignment to finish.”

She felt his eyes on her, and it drew her back to reality. Her ears turned red almost instantly, then she was turning with an embarrassed face. “You were staring.” She mumbled, skipping back over to the table.

“Yeah, I was. You noticed?”

“What?” Her eyes widened, pupils dilating a bit, as she sat back down, hiding her gaze into the notebook.

“Nothing.” He grinned.

Sigh.

‘You noticed?’

Sorry, is he seriously flirting with me right now?

Does he even know the control he has on my heart?

Might fall off a cliff you guys ; i’m done with this sappy monologue.

Moving on.

“Minho, do you ever think about how every raindrop is like… a little memory? Like, it falls from the sky, touches the ground, and just… disappears.”

“But for that second, it’s part of something bigger, you know?”

The guy simply blinked at the randomness and suddenness of the excitement.

Barely lifting his gaze from his notes, he replied, “Right.. Raindrops with memory loss. Very poetic.”

Ignoring his remarks, she continued, leaning forward. “No— like think about it! Like, the rain touches everyone’s life at least once. We’re all connected by it in a way.” She paused, “Don’t you think that’s amazing?”

“Fascinating,” he murmured, not missing a beat, though she could see the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

Undeterred by his lack of ‘enthusiasm’, the girl professionally yapped on.

“And then, once the rain dries up, it’s like it leaves a little piece of itself behind. Kind of like how memories leave marks on us even when the moment’s gone.”

Minho finally looked up, shaking his head as he looked at her with squinted eyes. “Only you would find romance in rain puddles.”

“Hey, maybe I am, it’s.. deep, I guess. You’re just a boring cynic, Minho. No imagination.”

“Or maybe I just save my imagination for things that don’t involve the simplest scenes of life.” He gave her a look, but his smile softened as he watched her.

“Simplest but prettiest.”

“And, oh, today in class, the english professor went on this entire rant about using semicolons correctly, and I swear he’s obsessed. Every time someone writes a comma instead, it’s like they’ve committed a crime.”

He simply nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips, letting her continue without interruption.

Her words flowed like the rain, nonstop and bright, filling the air between them. She was all sunshine, chattering about everything and nothing at once, her eyes lighting up with each new tangent.

“Dude and— did you know,” she leaned closer, “that the library has a secret stash of old, out-of-print books? Like, they’re hidden on a shelf way in the back. I found one with all these handwritten notes in the margins. It’s like someone’s personal journal was left behind.”

The overachiever just listened, nodding and throwing in a casual “Really?” or “No way,” watching her grow more animated with each word.

He wasn’t paying much attention to what she was saying; but, he was captivated by the way she said it. Her hands gestured wildly, her eyes sparkled, and her whole face lit up.

She was mesmerizing, an endless source of energy and light.

Eventually, her words started to trail off, and her lids grew heavy, her sentences getting slower and softer.

“And earlier when I was at the park, I followed this little dragonfly.. who kept circling around.. me.. “

She slumped forward, head resting on her folded arms, a sleepy smile lingering on her lips, “..and it lead me deeper into the garden..”

And with a yawn, she drifted off. Minho sat there, unfazed, quietly watching her, his gaze softening with affection.

The rain outside continued its gentle rhythm, as if lulling her into a peaceful sleep.

He leaned back, letting his pen fall silently to the table, and took a long, steady look at her. Her brown hair cascaded over her arms, and her expression was calm, completely at peace. There was a faint smile still tugging at the corners of her mouth.

With a fond sigh, he gently reached for the soft strands of her hair that framed her face, pushing one behind her ear, then leaned back to simply watch her.

The rain continued to fall, casting a soft glow over her face, and he knew this was one of those moments he’d hold onto forever.

His gaze only softened further as he watched her sleep, her breathing gentle and even, the faintest rise and fall of her shoulders barely noticeable in the soft light of the library.

He tilted his head, studying the way her hair framed her face, how a the other few strands had fallen messily across her cheeks.

There was something innocent in her stillness, like the world hadn’t yet touched her with its harsher edges. He had known her for years, through her loud days and quiet ones, but this — seeing her so open, so vulnerable, even in sleep — felt like a privilege, like he was witnessing a secret she didn’t even know she held. Although this may be the hundredth time he’s seeing her like this, but she never fails to lull him more each time.

“Why do you have to be so.. stupidly adorable..?”

The words slipped out in a gentle whisper, almost swallowed by the rain. His gaze fixed onto her face, tracing each curve, the eyelids, the eyelashes, the nose, the pink lips.

But immediately as he realised, he froze, his eyes darting to her face, heart pounding in sudden panic.

Had she heard him?

Her breathing remained even, her lips barely parted in sleep, and his own breath released in a silent sigh of relief.

Minho leaned back, exhaling, his eyes drifting over her with a gaze that was softer, deeper. He knew he was gone for her — completely and utterly.

No amount of teasing or sarcasm could hide it, especially not now, as he sat in this dim, cozy corner of the library with only her and the rain to keep him company.

He felt a quiet ache settle in his chest, the kind that was bittersweet. This was the girl who had grown up by his side, whose love for books and late-night study sessions was matched only by her passion for music, her endless playlists and handwritten lyrics tucked between notebooks.

She was everything he admired and everything he was afraid to lose, wrapped into one.

His fingers reached out instinctively, but he stopped, hand hovering just above her resting one.

He could imagine her waking up to his touch, the way she’d crinkle her nose and blink sleepily, maybe even tease him for “staring like a lovesick fool,” which was exactly what he was — but that’s not the point.

He couldn’t help it, though; her light pulled him in every time, scattering his carefully guarded walls like raindrops hitting a still lake.

But instead of waking her, he let his hand drop gently, leaning back to watch her for a moment longer, his heart a little fuller, a little softer, because of her.

And only her.

She’d wake up soon, annoying and bright, blinding the eye, and he’d be ready with another roll of the eyes, heartstrings tugging down.

Yet deep down, in a place he never let her see, he knew the truth; that she was his every reason, his brightest light in all the dim places.

And as the rain drizzled down, casting faint reflections across the window, he knew that for him, every raindrop from here on out would hold a little bit of her.

—

Y/n had always loved the rain.

To her, it wasn’t just water cascading from the sky but a reminder of everything raw and alive in the world.

The clouds, heavy with unshed emotions, poured out their burdens as if inviting her to do the same.

There was a release in it, a beauty. She could stand in it, close her eyes, feel it washing over her, and for a moment, all her worries would dissolve.

So, when the downpour was still continuing while she and Minho were done at the university’s grand library, she didn’t reach for her umbrella like he did.

There they were, standing at the entrance of the library, once again, and she stepped out on to the wet cobblestone path.

Her eyes drift upward to watch the raindrops falling from the grey skies.

A soft smile tugged at her lips as she tilted her head back, letting the rain soak her skin, drenching her clothes and weighing her hair down.

She laughed — a light, airy sound that blended with the rhythm of the rain.

Minho, on the other hand, was leaning against the pillar of the library’s entrance, watching her.

He sighed, fidgeting with the buttons of his umbrella, opening it with a click and stepping out as well. He raised an eyebrow, holding it over his own head, while the raindrops danced off its edges.

“Are you seriously gonna stand and dance there like an idiot?”

“Yes,”

Unfazed, the girl twirled around, arms open to embrace the downpour. “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s wet,” he grumbled, his lips curling into a barely-there smirk as he watched her spin, her joy illuminating her like a halo under the dim light of the streetlamps.

But the sight of her so lost in the rain, so… free, it did that thing to his chest — once again.

She stepped out of the umbrella’s reach, that he tried to cover her with, ignoring the way he shook his head at her.

“You could at least try to enjoy it,” she said, smiling. Her eyes sparkled, glancing at him over her shoulder, as if daring him to join her.

He rolled his eyes, holding the umbrella closer to himself as if it were a shield from her infectious energy. “Enjoy what? Getting sick? No thanks.”

“Suit yourself.” She shrugged, but she was still smiling as she returned to her little rain dance, not caring how soaked she was getting.

Each step she took felt lighter, and she almost forgot Minho was even there, watching her from under the safety of his umbrella.

And he was watching her, unable to look away.

She looked… ethereal, like something out of a dream he’d be too proud to admit he’d had. The way her laugh rose above the rain, soft and unburdened, made his heart ache in a way he would never, ever admit to anyone.

But he knew he’d regret it if he didn’t do something. With a resigned sigh, he closed the umbrella, letting the rain drench him in an instant.

“You’re such a pain, you know that?” he muttered, striding over to her with a faux scowl on his face, shuddering slightly at the contact of the cold droplets hitting over his figure.

She paused mid-spin, startled to find him suddenly standing in the rain with her.

“Minho, what are you doing? You’ll get soaked!”

“It’s a little late for that, genius,” he deadpanned, shoving his now-useless, foldable umbrella into his pocket.

But his eyes softened as he looked at her, something unspoken hidden behind his steady gaze.

Her laughter quieted, her gaze locking with his in the middle of the rain-soaked street.

There was a weight in his stare, something she couldn’t quite name. “I thought you hated getting wet?”

“I do,” he replied, his voice low, rough around the edges. “But… sometimes you make it hard to stick to my rules.”

She felt her cheeks warm despite the chill of the rain, her heart thudding in her chest. “Oh yeah? And what rule am I breaking now?” She paused in her tracks, staring at him right back.

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he just held her gaze, studying her with that intense look that always left her breathless.

His hand came up, almost on its own, brushing a raindrop from her cheek with the back of his fingers, lingering just a second too long.

He cleared his throat, pulling his hand back quickly as if he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

“Never mind,” he mumbled, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. “It’s nothing.”

She bit back a smile, savoring the rare vulnerability in his expression. “You’re really something, you know that?”

“Oh, shut up,” he grumbled, but there was no bite in his voice, only a soft resignation.

He reached down, taking her hand in his own, his fingers gentle but firm around hers.

“You’re going to catch pneumonia if you stay like this for longer.”

She blinked, startled by the sudden contact.

But Minho just kept walking, his fingers still laced with hers as they stepped through the rain-soaked street, side by side. Her heart stuttered, a thousand questions running through her mind, but she didn’t say a word.

She was content just to feel the warmth of his hand in hers, even if he’d never admit why he did it.

As they walked together, silent but for the rain, she glanced at him, catching a hint of a smile tugging at his lips as he stared straight ahead. For all his complaints, for all his grumbling, he was still here with her, getting drenched in the rain simply because she loved it.

And that, she realised, was more than enough.

a/n. ୨ৎ

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY LOVEEE happy lino day :<< SORRY FOR THE LATE POST !! 😞 if u liked this lmk by commenting or liking <333 check out my post-schedule/masterlist/taglists/etc right here ! thank you for reading >< !! also just fine chp 8 is coming tmr ! — love, yani ♥︎

thank you for the dividers! ♡︎ @adornedwithlight

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httpvomitello · 21 days ago

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Heart Squad *⁠.⁠✧

request: The girl reader has a heart-shaped birthmark on her stomach. And they find out about it when everyone is swimming in the pool. I would like with turtles from 2018?

You'd never seen the turtles so excited. It had been ages since they'd had the chance to just chill without training or fighting some mutant, and when Mikey suggested going to the pool for a day, everyone jumped at the chance. Leo found a place far out enough in the woods that no one would be around, and everyone piled into the Shellraiser, laughter and excitement bouncing around the van the whole way there.

Finally, you reached the pool, and it was perfect. Hidden away, surrounded by trees, and the sun glinting off the water like it was begging everyone to jump in.

Without hesitation, everyone tossed their stuff down, and the turtles immediately cannonballed into the pool, barely waiting for you to even kick off your shoes.

Mikey, of course, was the first to surface, grinning as he shook water from his head. "Yo, (Y/N)! You gotta show us your best splash!"

"Yeah, don’t keep us waiting!" Leo added, wading over and slicking back his wet mask.

You laughed, rolling your eyes. "Alright, alright, I’m coming in!" Taking a few steps back, you ran up to the edge and jumped in, hugging your knees as you hit the water.

It was a decent splash—not nearly as impressive as Raph’s cannonball, but good enough to get a cheer from Mikey. When you resurfaced, you couldn’t help but laugh, wiping the water out of your eyes as Donnie swam over.

He adjusted his goggles, looking at you. "You do know there's a more scientific way to perfect your splash, right? It's all about surface area and entry angle."

"Let her have her moment, Donnie," Raph said, shoving him lightly.

Leo, leaning back against the pool's edge, let out a low chuckle. "Honestly, didn’t think you’d even get in. You’re usually the one sittin’ on the side all cool and collected."

"Yeah, yeah, Leo, gotta keep you guys on your toes sometimes." You smirked, splashing him just to prove the point. He rolled his eyes, pretending to be annoyed, but the faint smile on his face gave him away.

And then Mikey, ever the observant one, squinted at you with a mischievous grin. “Whoa, hold up! Is that—do you have a heart-shaped birthmark on your stomach?”

You blinked, suddenly feeling your cheeks heat up as everyone turned to look. You’d almost forgotten it was there, but now, with all their eyes on you, it felt impossible to ignore.

“Oh, that?” you laughed awkwardly, trying to play it off. “Yeah, just a little mark I was born with.”

Mikey, grinning wider than ever, looked at the others. “Guys, that’s gotta be the cutest birthmark ever, right?”

“Didn’t expect that, but yeah,” Raph said, tilting his head thoughtfully. You could tell he was trying to be polite, but there was a small smile there, like he found it kind of cool.

Donnie seemed fascinated in his own way. “Actually, birthmarks of that shape are pretty rare. It’s almost like it’s, I don’t know… destiny?”

Leo, on the other hand, gave you an amused smirk, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the edge. “What, you got your own little love mark? Hope that doesn’t mean you’re all soft and sappy on the inside.”

You rolled your eyes, splashing him again. “And what if I am? Just gives me more ammo to take down tough guys like you.”

Leo snorted, though you could see the hint of a grin tugging at his lips. “Fair enough, fair enough. I just didn’t see ya as the heart-on-your-sleeve type.”

Raph nudged Leo with his elbow, shaking his head. “Leo, it’s just a birthmark, man. Let it go.”

Mikey, however, was still hyped up. “It’s totally rad! It’s like your superhero insignia, dude! It’s a sign that you’re part of the team! Just, like, the cool, heart-shaped version.”

“Please, Mikey, let’s not turn it into a whole emblem,” you laughed, but you could feel the warmth spreading through your chest. Despite the attention, it was kind of sweet that they saw it as something unique and cool.

Mikey wasn’t done, though. He started swimming around you in circles, chanting, “Heart Squad, Heart Squad!”

You groaned, splashing him to get him to stop. “Alright, alright, I get it. It’s a heart birthmark. Now can we move on?”

Donnie, who’d been watching with a thoughtful expression, finally chimed in, “You know, having a birthmark like that isn’t just rare—it’s pretty special. I mean, statistically speaking, you’re one in a million.”

You gave him a grateful smile, his words warming your heart more than you expected. "Thanks, Donnie."

“Hey, if it makes you any better,” Raph said, “we’ve all got some kind of mark, right? Shell patterns, mask colors… just makes us who we are. So your heart mark? Just means you’re one of us.” He gave you a reassuring smile, and for a moment, you forgot you were even embarrassed.

“Aw, Raph, when’d you get so sentimental?” Leo teased, splashing him. But even he looked genuinely touched, and as they started to argue and splash each other, you couldn’t help but laugh. They’d turned a tiny mark on your stomach into something so much more meaningful than you’d ever imagined.

By the end of the day, everyone was back to their usual antics, the whole birthmark thing mostly forgotten as they competed in cannonballs and races across the pool.

And when you were all packing up to leave, Mikey leaned in, grinning as he whispered, “So, honorary Heart Squad member, same time next week?”

You rolled your eyes, laughing as you shoved him lightly. “Only if you bring the pizza.”

#reader #x reader #y/n #tmnt #tmnt x reader #f!reader #tmnt x platonic!reader #rottmnt raph #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt leo #rottmnt #rottmnt x reader

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sameatsfunions · 2 months ago

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Day two of Halloween steddie!

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🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

Steve promised the kids he would carve pumpkins with them this year, just as long as Dustin came with to help him lug the 7 pumpkins back to wills house.

Dustin stopped at every pumpkin, inspecting them and making sure he saw any imperfections, wanting to find perfect pumpkins for the group. Steve just grabbed the first one that he saw, it was medium sized and a decent shape.

“Steve. you’re really just going to grab the first one you see?” Dustin asks him from the ground, rolling the oval shaped pumpkin over and brushing the dirt off of it.

“Yeah- would you stop worrying about me, we’ve got like 6 more to grab.” Steve huffed as he picked up the pumpkin from the stem.

“Wait! Steve-“

Dustin called, as he stood up trying to prevent the inevitable disaster that was unfolding in front of him.

“-what?!” Steve yelled, looking at Dustin as the stem gave away, with a loud ‘snap!’ Falling to his feet, bursting open right in front of him. Pumpkin guts went flying, seeds ricocheting off his shoes and legs.

“Shit - oh you’ve got to be kidding me.” Steve muttered as he stared at the mess at his feet, kicking the guts off his shoes.

“I tried to warn you.” Dustin said, returning his attention to the pumpkin patch.

Steve sighed, turning around to grab the wheelbarrow for the excessive amount of pumpkins Dustin was about to grab, following him as he passed through the field.

“This one is good.” Steve said, pointing to a pumpkin that Dustin ignored, stopping with the wheelbarrow.

“No, it’s not.” Dustin called over his shoulder, not even bothering to look at which one Steve was talking about.

“You’re not even looking- whatever.” Steve called back, quieting as he realized Dustin was on a mission that he himself, couldn’t slow down. He reached down and turned the pumpkin over, wincing as he got a whiff of the underside of the rotting squash.

“Oh fuck-“ he said, stumbling backwards, tripping over another pumpkin, resulting in him landing on his ass in the mud.

He let out a long groan, feeling the dirty water soak into his pants. He stood up and tried to look at his own behind, spinning in circles as he tried.

“First time?” Someone called from nearby, causing Steve to flush with embarrassment as he noticed, oh my god someone saw that.

His eyes adjusted from him spinning around, landing on a guy with a black shirt, the words ‘Merrill’s pumpkin patch’ on it, in a deep orange writing.

As Steve’s eyes trailed up the figures body, they widened as he noticed who the familiar voice belonged to. It was Eddie Munson.

“Uh yeah- yeah.” Steve stumbled over his words, swallowing hard as he finished, not sure what to do with his hands, or himself. Usually Steve was calm and collected, he would even go as far to call himself confident; but that wasn’t always the case because Eddie, well he was the main cause of Steve’s sexuality crisis.

Steve had spent the last few months panicking every morning, making sure he looked his best, because Eddie was in his first class. Steve didn’t really think about guys in that way before he saw Eddie, with his nice hair, and friendly smile.

At the end of the class Eddie would always walk past Steve and wave, sometimes he’d even ask him how his morning was going.

“Hey! I can’t pick out all of these by myself!” Dustin called - snapping Steve out of his staring contest with Eddie, making his face flush.

He let out a choked up “right-“ clearing his throat a bit trying to collect himself. “Uh, I got to…” Steve said eyes flicking back to Eddie, who was already grabbing the wheelbarrow and heading towards Dustin.

“Come on Harrington.” He said with a big hearty smile, easily navigating the field, catching up to the bossy preteen.

Steve walked behind them as he possibly checked out eddies butt, every once in a while pretending to be looking at the pumpkins, just in case anyone was watching.

It wasn’t long before Eddie helped Dustin fill the wheelbarrow, with only one last pumpkin to grab, Steve’s. Eddie looked back to him, waving him over, and turning his attention to the ground.

Steve quickly shuffled over next to him, looking at the pumpkin he was pointing at. “You see this one?” Eddie said, pointing at it with his shoe.

“Yeah?” Steve questioned… it looks like a pumpkin to me.

He thought as Eddie crouched down and tugged on Steve’s jacket, encouraging him to get down with him. Steve let out a sigh, and reluctantly squatted down next to him. “See how it’s flat on this side?” Eddie asked, rolling it over slightly to see the lighter orange, flat belly of the pumpkin.

“Mmhm.” Steve hummed, looking over at Eddie as he did, watching his deep brown eyes inspect the orange, round squash.

“It’s good when they’re flat because you can carve the design into them easier.” Eddie said gesturing to the pumpkin, looking back at Steve, rolling his eyes as he noticed Steve wasn’t looking at the pumpkin at all. Steve felt his fingers grab his chin and cheeks, turning his head to the pumpkin. “The pumpkins over here Harrington.” Steve felt his face get hot with embarrassment, and his eyes widened as Eddie removed his hand from his face and set it on the small of his back, letting out an encouraging, “go on and grab it!”

Steve felt his heart flutter as Eddies warm hand pressed into his lower back, and he forgot how to work his body. He let out a “mmhm.” And attempted to grab the pumpkin, once again reaching for the stem. “Woah! No,no, no, no.” Eddie said and let out a laugh that steve wished he could record and listen to forever.

Eddie removed his hand from Steve’s back, leaving a cold and empty feeling where it once was, and guiding Steve’s hands to the proper place to pick up a pumpkin. One on either side of the bottom, and told him to “lift with his legs.”

Steve attempted and failed, his hands slipping from the condensation on the tough, slick skin of the pumpkin- not making it more than an inch off the ground.

“You got it…” Eddie said encouragingly, making Steve’s heart skip a beat.

Eddie rearranged Steve’s hands again, and stood up next to him, ready to take over if Steve dropped it, and watched as Steve picked it up, slowly and carefully carrying it to the wheelbarrow.

“Perfect.” Eddie praised and pointed to the spot left open for Steve’s pumpkin.

I could get used to that.

Steve thought as he placed it down, and wiped his hands on his pants, looking back to Eddie who had a huge smile on his face. “You did it!”

Steve returned the smile and felt it get bigger as he realized, this is the first time- in a very long time- that he really smiled and meant it.

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🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

#eddie munson #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #steddie fic #Steveharringtonhasapraisekink

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thoughtsforsoob · 11 months ago

Text

txt - how they show their love

A/n: I know I’m not the only one who thinks about how sweet these boys would be to their s/o :( I need my own heuning kai please. (Ugh I hate myself bc I know guys can be sweet and my last relationship was so terrible :/ I forgot I have standards. If a boy/girl puts you down, you leave them immediately!) anyways, please enjoy okay? Make sure to drink some water and have a yummy snack. Please send requests as well! Requests are open for texts and writing for nct dream, txt, and a few more.

{this one is quite long bc of the bullet point format so I added the "keep reading"on this post!}

soobin

He shows his love in such sweet and subtle ways.

One of these affectionate things he does (that I personally love) is him gaining interest in your hobbies.

He will sit there and watch you do whatever you do with literal heats in his eyes.

Please help, his pupils are actually changing shape. Jkjk.

Anyways, he always asks you questions about your hobbies and will even try them.

also, he likes to be taken care of in a relationship so he shows his love by looking at you with the upmost adoration when you're leading him somewhere, for example

he gives you this lovestruck eyes when you're pulling on his arm through the mall

he loves when you order for him when you go out to eat

you and him are literally the meme where the girl goes up the counter and says "he said no pickles >:(" and he's just standing behind you with a little smirk on his face

yeonjun

He shows his love through providing for you.

He's overall is the embodiment of the word ‘gentleman’.

He always opens the door for you when entering the car.

He holds your hand tight when you two are rushing through the train stations during rush hour.

He also always pays for EVERYTHING.

He gets irked when you try to pull out your card/cash to play for anything. He frowns and gently moves you to the side and he pays.

Afterwards, he sits you down and tells you that he wants to pay and that you should let him because he loves you so so much.

Let him because he will literally cry if you don’t let him pay.

beomgyu

he's just a little silly guy so he show his affection through lots of physical contact and time together.

I say this later on for huening kai but he looooves hanging on you!

he’s like a little monkey

he just likes when you pretend to be annoyed because it makes him feel accomplished (he’s so annoying but I love it 😬)

Also like, calls you at 2 am

“baby I’m outside your apartment please come down”

“Beomgyu where are we going? It’s 2 am?”

“First of all, WHO is Beomgyu? Second of all, we’re going on a walk and there will possibly be snacks if you cooperate”

taehyun

He shows his love by looking after you very closely.

He leaves you daily reminders to take your vitamins, charge your phone/laptop, eat or drink something, etc… he wants to make sure you’re healthy and prepared for the day ahead of you.

He also always makes sure you’re not missing things.

One particular thing he does is restocking your pantry and fridge and also other personal care items.

If he notices you’re running out of your favorite drink, favorite snack, pads/tampons, etc, he will stop at the store to get them for you before heading to your apartment.

He also likes to have sit downs with you at least once a week and talking to you about your week.

He buys fancy masks and your favorite drinks so you two have spend a few hours de-stressing with each other.

heuning kai

He is very into physical affection so he shows his love by hanging on you in public.

Once he get the green light from you, he practically begs his company to let you both go public with your relationship so he can hug you and kiss you in public.

He loves coming up from behind you while you’re waiting for your coffee orders and wrapping his arms around your shoulders. He presses a kiss to the top of your head and tells you he love you sooooo so much.

He also shows his affection through gifts.

Surprise gifts at that.

He loves catching you off guard with anything from stationary to a new designer bag.

He’s a great gift giver because he pays close attention to the things you love.

#txt fluff #txt headcanons #txt imagines #txt reactions #txt x reader #yeonjun x reader #soobin x reader #beomgyu x reader #taehyun x reader #huening kai x reader #tomorrow x together

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powderblueblood · 11 months ago

Text

HELLFIRE & ICE — eddie munson x f!oc! as enemies to star-crossed lovers

CHAPTER EIGHT — SEWN UP

PREVIOUS | MASTERLIST | NEXT

summary: you'd need a hacksaw to cut the tension between you and eddie, but that's not your weapon of choice this time around. a newspaper pitch, a patchwork girl and a tasteless prank all work together to make things ever more awkward between you and the boy you keep senselessly calling your friend. content warnings: MINORS DNI, THIS IS NOT SAFE FOR YOUR PURITAN EYES - reader is an ex-bitch on a journey of self-discovery through being an even more specific kind of bitch, angst in the form of an elizabeth munson mention, miscommunication, lacy engaging non-platonically with someone other than eddie, mention of lacy's surname and dad's name, REEFER RICK CAMEO, billy hargrove slander as per, violence, a humiliating prank, smut in the form of public hand stuff (f!receiving), me feeling insane about this chapter word count: 14.3k

Dear Mom,

She hasn’t got warm hands. She hasn’t got the kind of smile that draws people to her. She hasn’t got a kind word for everyone, no matter where they come from. She hasn’t got a lot of patience. She hasn’t got a fixed sense of herself–well, she does kinda. But, not totally. Not yet.

She’s not like you.

Other cheerleaders wore ponytails and they’d bounce. But when she wore a ponytail, it swung like a sword. She used to be cruel and exacting, but now she’s just exacting. She’s honest and observant to a degree that’s, like, almost psycho. She’s a cold front, but she laughs like a lightning strike. I feel like thunder, powerless to do anything but roll after her. Can’t help myself.

She knows what she wants, she thinks. Other days she doesn’t. I keep trying to tell her that’s okay, in ways where I don’t actually have to use the words. My words wouldn’t be as good as her words. Her words burn clean through me like a lit tip of a cigarette.

But she does have your book.

Y’know, I always thought it was kind of creepy the way some guys would try and look for their mom in other girls.

So this might be a good thing. Less Oedipus-y, more ea–…

Shit. I was gonna say something I’m so sure you’d smack me around the head for. But you’re not here to do that. I might be in better shape with this girl if you were.

Anyway. I miss you.

Eddie Munson stands in the midst of an incredibly awkward aftermath.

See, for two people so purportedly self-assured, he in his freakshow roguishness and you in your prim-perfect knife-edge sharpness, you’re both entirely dogshit at acknowledging… well… anything.

You both tried to snap back to normal so quickly, with Wheeler and her science experiment pregnancy scare smashing through the ice. But the water underneath that ice is still freezing cold– and you’re both pretending you’re not gasping for air, pretending like you don’t remember gasping for each other’s lips.

This is totally cool. This is totally fine.

And then Eddie comes to see you at The Bookstore, which has become just as routine as nearly never brushing his hair, and sees you fixing your seller’s tag to your pick of the week. Your face in that arresting, self-conscious smile that he wants to melt off with the blowtorch of his mouth.

It’s The Patchwork Girl of Oz by L. Frank Baum.

Now, he noticed that you would habitually drop writers’ names into conversation like they were your lit professors– Didion said this, Bukowski said that, Bronte yadda, Burroughs yadda. Always some genius-adjacent, formative-thinking, socio-politico-boffo brainwad, more often than not with a substance abuse kick that you romanticized from a safe distance.

But then you unearth this book, a green clothback cover yellowing with age and roughness, red and yellow inlaid titling blasting out a name he ought to know. It makes his visual memory brrrrrrring! like a bright red tomato shaped kitchen timer.

The Patchwork Girl of Oz was with Elizabeth Munson wherever she went. Her records were her plane tickets, her escape to another world, but you couldn’t take your records with you to the hospital. Escaping to Oz was a decent substitute. She must have read it a bajillion times; she even took to calling Wayne Unc Nunkie after the elderly munchkin who only ever had one word for anybody. And whenever Eddie would drop an egg when they were baking or come running through the house with his knees all cut up, she’d coo, “Oh, my li’l Ojo the Unlucky!”

The book lingered everywhere– on the kitchen counter of the house on Pennsylvania,on the vinyl seat of the booth at the now-shuttered Benny’s when she could afford to take Eddie for a treat, on her bedside table.

Up until the end.

It knocks the wind out of Eddie when he sees it on the display shelf. He does a bad job of hiding that.

“What, too shocked to make fun of me?” you say, perching yourself on the rickety stool behind the counter, and your voice betrays a little embarrassment. “That’s a first.”

“I–... huh?” He tears his eyes away from the book long enough to catch the specks of blush high on your cheeks.

“It’s not my usual flavor, I know, but I’m capable of whimsy too.”

“Why that one?” His limbs feel stony like Unc Nunkie’s, as much as he wants to languidly lean over the counter and bother you like he always does.

You shrug, but you tilt the opposite shoulder. A reverse, a peek behind the looking glass. He notices that about you, which goddamn shoulder is your shrugging preference.

“I think it was one of the first books I kept checking out of the library when I was little,” you say, glancing back at the display, “It’s about this poor little kid who has to find a way to reverse a spell on his uncle who’s been turned to stone, and the eponymous patchwork girl is–”

“I know the story.” It comes out a little blunter than Eddie was intending it to. So much so that it knocks you back a beat.

“Oh,” you say shortly, eyes flaring down at the counter. “No need to cut me off mid-stream about it.”

Eddie winces, knowing he’s coming across as weird and stilted but with no idea how to safely climb down. “No, just– I know the story, yeah. My mom…” That is not a safe dismount, dummy! “...she… liked it a lot.”

“Yeah?” your tone stays even, yanked back from him a little. He wants to be like, sorrysorrysorry. “She ever read it to you?”

“A bunch, actually.”

“No shit.” The corners of your mouth tick up. “Wanna hear something super dorky?”

Just the mere invitation of your little smile loosens him up a bit. Eddie twists a ring around his finger, head kicking to his shoulder as his foot kicks to the counter. “Always,” he says, squinting.

You straighten your spine up on your stool and clear your throat. Hand goes over your heart, like you’re about to recite the damn declaration. Your eyes shutter closed.

“Here’s a job for a boy of brains– a drop of oil from a live man’s veins; a six-leaved clover; three nice hairs, from a Woozy’s tail, the book declares; are needed for a magic spell, and water from a pitch-dark well– the yellow wing from a butterfly to find must Ojo also try; and if he gets them without harm, Doc Pipt will make the magic charm; but if he doesn’t get ‘em, Unc…” your crack one eye open. “...will always stand a marble chunk.”

Eddie is silent for… for a while. For a good handful of heartbeats, for a beat so long that makes you knit your brow up, your eyes needling into him. Eddie’s looking at you with rose-colored soft focus. His elbows are eagerly pitched on the counter now, chin in his hands. The last person to recite those words to him was his mom, her voice raspy and tired but still willing to read to him. She hadn’t smelled like herself. It was sad.

And now, your voice, with all its snippy chainmail thrown off, gone all soft and lyrical and dedicated.

He thinks about a littler you, one he could vaguely pick out of a lineup if he really, really tried, criss-cross applesauce and pouring over that book so often that that little spell jams itself into your brain.

The mage before she donned the mink coat.

Eddie is looking at you and can’t force his heart out of his throat.

Well, until he can.

“Ew,” he cringes.

“What?!” you exclaim, your eyes getting all incredulous and kind of mad.

“And they call me a fuckin’ nerd, what the hell was that?” Eddie’s laughing, mocking, not with his whole heart. But it’s enough to make you scoff, irritated with him again.

See, you thought you were being cute and he knows you thought you were being cute. He needs to put you back in a place where you’re marginally unlikeable enough to just be a friend.

Restore the natural order. Don’t think about how he wants to recite that same verse back to you in front of an ordained Elvis in Vegas. Because he would, in a heartbeat. If he wasn’t committed to not being stupid.

Christ, you’re pretty. Christ, he’s gonna do something stupid.

“You are… completely undateable, you know that?” he nods ferociously, eyes trailing you as you cross out from behind the counter and head for a box of books that need to be shelved. All uh-huhs and sure, Eddies. The bell on the front door jangles and a customer passes behind him.

He yells after you, voice traveling down whatever winding path you’ve taken through the stacks. “You with your black and white movies and your twat rock and your Wizard of Oz… baby, what crowd are you even playing to?”

“What crowd am I playing to? What crowd are you playing to?!” you seethe, shuffling the ten-tonne box of books down the aisle with your feet. “Fucking baggie-pushing, guitar-brutalizing, board-game-...maker-...upper!”

“Woah. Wit’s unmatched as usual, Lace.”

This fucking guy. This fucking guy. You try and do one darling little thing, you just recite a little piece of a book his dead mom used to read to him or whatever, and you get verbally bashed! God forbid, god forbid you let the fucking drawbridge down for half a second! This blows!

You’re trying to be less of a bitch, in case you idiots didn’t notice!

It’s kind of inexplicable, how sensitive you’re feeling about this. Could be that since you kissed and since you pinkie-swore with Nancy Wheeler in the bombed-out boys bathroom, you kind of felt as if you were standing on a blade’s edge with Eddie. Not knowing where to put your hands, not knowing how much or how little to joke around. Not entirely happy with your moment of madness at the Ecker trailer. Not entirely happy that it hadn’t happened again.

But you’re not about to apologize. Not to him. Don Rickles in a battle vest over there. Must he always just poke you like that?!

“You’re undateable!” You shove a bunch of books aside on the shelf. “Me, I’m cu–...”

Right through the shelf, a customer stares at you. Your voice dies in your throat because, unfortunately, he’s looking right at you in your flurry of annoyance toward Eddie. And unfortunately, this stranger, he’s a little…

“What were you gonna say?” he asks, closing Gravity’s Rainbow.

“Cute.”

Guy smiles, doesn’t break eye contact with you for a second. He’s wearing a sweater. He looks fresh out of somewhere stone walled with crawling ivy. “I’d attest to that.”

You forget about Eddie– just for a second. Gesturing to Gravity’s Rainbow, you say, “Gonna attempt to finish that?”

“What’s that mean?” His grin is infectious, or maybe you’re just starved for this kind of attention.

“Nothing,” you say, with a little more tongue than you need to, “Just, I don’t know of anyone that’s ever finished that behemoth.”

Well, you don’t know of a lot of people that read the way you do either. But, digression. He raps a knuckle against the cover of the book and for some reason, you feel it in your belly.

“I always finish,” he tells you.

“Do you now?”

That’s the longest you’ve been quiet in a hot minute, and that’s the kind of thing that gets under Eddie’s skin. Chain on his jeans jangling, he starts off into the creaking labyrinth of lined-up bookcases.

“What, did you expire back here or something…” he mutters, a little whine in his tone– play with me, play with me, even though I’m being kind of a dick to you–

He sees you, a book lying lax in your arms, your body swaying to and fro and you’re–

“--talkin’ to yourself, Lacy? Great look. Real honeytrap, if you’re lookin’ to catch some imaginary di–”

“Eddie,” you grit at him, and he spots the whole other human male you’re talking to through the stacks. Well, not just talking to. Not with that body language.

This dude tilts his chin to Eddie. “Hey, man. I remember you. Didn’t you used to sell dimebags in the woods outside school?”

Fire flares in Eddie’s gut. He vaguely recognizes this guy– class of ‘83 or ‘82, not remarkable enough to be hateable but now, he’s certainly collegiate looking enough to be… distracting to you. So, annoying to him.

“Why, man? You lookin’ to buy? Or just cruise some high schooler tail?”

“Eddie!” you hiss again and he scoffs like, really?! You turn back to this… whoever the fuck. “C’mon, I’ll check you out.”

“You’ll check him out, huh?” Eddie sneers, bearing over you as you pass him in the aisle. Body heat breezing right by, face a mask of sheer disgust. Impulse talks; it totally wants to just grab you and throw you behind him and– well, he hasn’t thought that far ahead yet. But he’s creative. Who the fuck even is this guy? Where did he come from?

“That you?” this guy says, jerking his head toward the staff display, toward The Patchwork Girl of Oz. “Lacy?”

“To my friends and co-conspirators,” you say, ringing up that godawful Pynchon book.

“Which one was that guy?” he asks, watching you jot out his receipt on the carbon copy pad because for whatever reason, Ivana’s cash register is from the fucking 1800s and she refuses to upgrade to anything with a thermal printer. “Friend? Co-conspirator? … boyfriend?”

You wrinkle your nose. And don’t exactly answer, but it’s enough confirmation for him.

“Good. Say, why don’t you jot down your number on this thing?” He pushes the receipt back to you. “I can keep you updated on my Pynchon progress. You can… see if I’m good enough to co-conspire with.”

You like this approach. In fact, you love this approach, because you hadn’t been earnestly picked up in… forever. And he has this certain je ne sais quoi about him, something that screams moved out of state for college. You stay grinning, biting your lip for a good breath or two after he leaves the store.

Then Eddie appears in your peripheral, like some terrible harbinger of embarrassment.

“Undateable, huh?” you say, fully aware that he was earwigging on that whole exchange because he’s a nosy bitch and he can’t help himself. Glutton for gossip.

“You don’t have to throw yourself at the first person who walks in the store just to prove a point, baby,” Eddie tells you, this big face of condescension. You want to smack it off him so bad your palms are itching.

You huff and backtrack to where that box of unshelved books sits. “Maybe I’m tired of waiting around.”

—

Ronnie Ecker and Robin Buckley are looking each other in the eye, wolf-whistling furtively when you elbow open the door of the gym.

“You’re flat. I’m telling you you’re flat,” Ronnie’s insisting, an adorable three inches away from Robin’s face.

“I can’t be flat! A mouth whistle cannot be flat!”

It’s marching band practice. You don’t know what the hell goes on in here and you know better than to ask.

“Would you two get a room already?” you call, heels clicking across the glossed wood of the gym. These dorks have all got their feathered hats and bibs on, a kind of half-assed dress rehearsal for some pep rally they’re having on Friday. You missed the bulletin– kind of stopped paying attention, actually. Extracurricular distraction is a hell of a drug.

“Excuse me, this is a closed–” that’s the voice of Miss Genovese, the band teacher, stomping down from the bleachers in these tragic little loafers with the pleather peeling off. She makes it about halfway toward you, then this exasperated look washes right over her. The teacher dashes for the double doors and you point after her with a freshly painted red index finger. New lease on looking good.

“And that is?”

“Like, the third time in the last hour,” Ronnie shakes her head, taking her flamboyant little hat off. “Biggest running theory is morning sickness.”

What, is pregnancy like, catching or something? you’re about to muse.

“It’s almost contagious, right?” Robin says, tugging at her clip-on collar, “I mean, first your whole thing and now–”

Ronnie doesn't even have a chance to gesture for her to ixnay! before she slams pause on herself, eyes wide and all shit, did I say that out loud?! Your eyes narrow in return. That’s suspicious.

“What whole thing? My whole what?”

Ever and eternally knowing when to call it, Ronnie holds a hand up before Robin can even start to scramble an apology and serve it to you. Panther versus a precious little puppy dog– the fight ain’t even fair.

“Nothing. Scuttlebutt bullshit, the usual,” she rolls her eyes, throws a sympathetic glance to Robin who winces and retreats. Huh.

“What’s going on with you two?” you ask, crossing your legs over the bottom rung of the bleachers.

This actually makes Ronnie’s expression soften a little– her eyes race back in Robin’s direction and you swear you catch a blush. “Also nothing! Compound nothing. Why, does it look like…”

Lips purse into a little satisfied grin. Knew it. Toldja. Point to Lacy. “Looks like whatever you want it to look like.”

Ronnie reaches forward and waves her feathered hat in your face– stop being so observant! You cough in protest– ew, I don’t know where that thing has been!

“Whatever! What brings you to geek church?”

“That’s what they’re calling it now?”

“Stick around, we’ll start speaking in tongues.”

“Satanic Panic bringing about a fun new turn for the pep rally! Put some God back into that wind instrument,” you croon. “No, I actually wanted your thoughts on something.”

Ronnie raises her eyebrows and you feel like you oughta mirror her. You’re not usually one to seek out a second opinion, but the more you’ve gotten to know Ronnie, the more you see that she’ll tell you how it is. Especially now that you’ve dispersed with the whole intimidating it-girl cloud and she’s stopped pretending to be shy.

“I know. I’m shocked too.”

“I’m honored,” she swings her shoulders in girlish delight, “Dish it up, Doevski.”

“Okay, so,” you clap, hiking forward on your creaking bleacher, “I’ve been seeing this guy–”

“--this is the bookstore guy?”

A blink and a beat. “How’d you know about that?”

A face that has Eddie told me with footnotes of and he was kind of jealous scrawled all over it stares back at you. “I ‘unno, maybe I overheard…”

“Doesn’t matter.” You slice a hand through the air, no time for this right now. “Facts are facts, I’ve been hanging out with this guy,” interesting change of phraseology, considering, “and he’s a college guy–”

“If they could see you now.” The royal court of Hawkins, obviously. Older guys are generally an accomplishment. But Ronnie’s half-jesting.

“--I know, shut up. But, he mentioned something that would absolutely rock my college applications is a really, really great–”

“--feature in the Streak?” you’d gasped out in the back of his Ford Cortina (how very European!). College guy’s mouth was on your neck and his hand was inching into your shirt, playing at a faux placket of pearl buttons. Boys can never tell a real button from a fake one, apparently, even if they go to an East Coast school. I mean, shit! You’d gleaned enough information from him over a shake at the diner; relatively well-to-do family that lived near the Wheelers on Maple and kind of underwhelming taste in lit for an English major.

But he maintained eye contact and listened to your witty little bon mots, even if he didn’t… laugh at them. One thing led to another and thus, the backseat college advisory-slash-makeout session.

“Yeah, yeah, they love that shit…” he’d said, moving to your mouth in order to swallow any forthcoming words. But his words had piqued your interest more than his fingers had.

“What about an underdog story?” you said, eyes kind of hazing over in the middle distance.

“Sure, underdog, great…” college guy grabbed ahold of your leg and tugged you into him, “We can talk more about it later, okay?”

“Okay–”

“–okay?”

Ronnie grimaces. “I didn’t need that much detail.”

“Yes, you did.” You stare at her. “I’m a storyteller.”

Ronnie chews the proposal over a little, cheeks kind of bunched up in confusion. Behind her, band geeks badly hide their hickeys and exhibit too-gangly, too-obvious body language. No inspiration to be tapped from there.

“An underdog story… on the society pages? Like, who could you possibly–”

You smile that awful, conniving smile, because you came in here armed. “Ye of little faith.”

“Oh, no,” Ronnie says, and honestly, you’re a little taken aback by that reaction, “Hellfire?”

A shrug pulls your shoulders right up, rapidly on the defense. “Why not, right?”

“Why not– Lacy, you almost guillotined Jeff that one time he asked you.”

True that you hadn’t had the inches of article to spare for Hellfire Club in not-too-ancient history, but, “That was then, this is now! World’s changing– and it’s topical!”

The whole Satanic panic thing really did tickle your funny bone; and you saw yourself having a little fun with that by turning the focus on Hellfire. Subverting Eddie’s cult-leader mythos to show that he is just a kid who might have a propensity for telling a good story, surrounded by other kids who want to get a word in. You’re not looking to turn the tide on his reputation or anything but maybe… y’know. You could do the admirable journalistic thing and scratch the surface a bit. Show what you’ve learned.

It’s a challenge. You love a challenge.

“And it’s a good excuse to get in Eddie’s face,” Ronnie’s voice breaks through.

There is a lonnng beat, one you hold like the last shoes in your size at a sample sale. Your mouth keeps going to make the words yeah, right or it’s not about him! or y’know, something to exonerate you from the notion.

“I know he isn’t…” Ronnie trails off, coming to sit next to you. “that he’s kind of being weird to you right now.”

Go ahead and feign that ignoramus, girl. Shoulders quirking and all.

“Oh. Is he?”

And then Ronnie says maybe the dumbest thing on the planet, regarding the abominable sitch between you and Eddie Munson.

“You should just talk to him.”

“Ecker, there’s fruitless efforts and then there’s barren wasteland,” you scoff, “Guess which category proposing this to Eddie falls into.”

“That’s not what I–”

J’excuse, Ronnie, but you don’t care! Because this isn’t actually about anything other than getting all of those dice-throwing dorks, including Miss Ecker herself, into your damn paper. Okay?

“We have to ambush him! Element of surprise, that’s it,” you smile primly and hop off the bleachers. “I’m just going to show up at Hellfire, photographer in hand and– he won’t have a choice, will he?”

Ronnie’s expression is a mask of reproachfulness. You don’t let it shake you. You’re a cat playing with a now-endless ball of yarn, and you’re unshakeable.

“He’s such a sucker for attention,” you say, tossing your hair, and it sounds a lot more like you’re convincing yourself than anyone else in this echoey gym, “He won’t be able to resist.”

—

Reefer Rick doesn’t call, unless it’s an emergency. All of his communication is inbound, or passed through a shoulder check and a goofy smile at Melvald’s, or a nod of the head across the pool table at The Hideout. He doesn’t frequent there so much, because Bev knows he’s a pool shark and ever since ‘Nam, his ears are a little too sensitive to all that metal racket, man! By all means, rock on, but by then I gotta go rock-a-bye myself to sleep, alright? Anyway, that’s how Eddie knows to ride over to his place, if it’s not through a call he’s placed himself.

You need me, kid, you come and find me.

So when Eddie gets a call that says, “We gotta pow-wow, ese,” his nerves are set on edge. Not that he wasn’t feeling bad enough, what with the fact that some douchebag in a Cortina had picked you up and dropped you off to school the last couple of days. What with the fact he had actively dogged the car down a little bit of the road from the trailer park with his van, resisting every temptation to just run it all the way off into a ditch. And what with the fact he didn’t know what to say to you about that without it coming out in an anti-missive of jealousy! jealousy! jealousy! so what he did say to you was… nothing.

You two can’t maintain a consistent line of communication to save your lives, he realizes. There’s too much left unsaid, and the both of you are too stubborn or too scared to say any of it. Or even think it, in his case! The amount of times he’d had to slap himself sober, his brain going into overdrive thinking, if I had just told her… It’s a ‘friendship’, if you can even call it that, based on barbs and bad behavior and doing things because you know you shouldn’t. For the thrill. Right?

Like. Whatever. It’s not like he’d made tapes of a half dozen Black Sabbath albums because you mentioned you wanted to ‘study up’ on that ‘monster music’ he’s making. It’s not like you’d given him an annotated copy of Still Life with Woodpecker because he wanted to throw some ‘nonsensical curveball shit’ into a later Hellfire campaign.

It’s not like Eddie missed you– he just… should have seen this coming, is all. He’s used to getting left in the dust while people move onto better things, or whatever.

God, Munson, your voice taunts him from somewhere in his hippocampus, need some help nailing yourself to that crucifix?

Anyway, fuck, Rick called him.

Rick had gotten out of lockup about a month ago– some truncated charge or another that Eddie didn’t bother asking too much about, mostly because… well, Rick hadn’t really been himself. Larger and brighter than the sun itself, the great and powerful lion of a man that oozed life ain’t shit if you ain’t havin’ fun energy, Rick had kind of dimmed. Lost a lot of weight while he was inside. Came back a little bit twitchy and fluent in Spanglish, for some reason.

Eddie was worried, because of all the adult figures in his life, Rick was meant to be the one with levity. He’d lost out on a fun uncle when Wayne stepped into his father-figure role. Al was nothing but a dangerous bit player. Rick, he could rely on.

Thinking back to that infamous day when he had gotten loaded at Lipton Landing, before he picked up you and Ronnie, before he… well, you know the rest but, Eddie had sensed that Rick could use the company. He kind of tried to poke it out of him, whatever was wrong. Didn’t work. They had just watched The Godfather in a tense-ish silence and doofed a lot of joints. Sorta freaked him out.

Eddie’s crushing gravel on the descent to the infamously slanted Lipton Landing for his summons. There’s a hum that seems to traverse the window panes, a fond plucking work that could only belong to Link Wray. He puts the van in park and jogs up the steps to the front door, bracing himself for the pungent plume of skunk smoke that always greets him.

“Eduardo,” Rick’s voice curls around the greeting like smoke curls out of his mouth and he yanks Eddie over the threshold. Door slams, arm tightens around his shoulders. “You’re here.”

Rick’s always a handsy sorta guy–not like that!–but this grab makes him seize a little.

“You rang,” Eddie says, voice lilting, “Everything okay?”

Rick clutches him by the shoulders and looks at him for a long, long time. Uncomfortably long. How has he managed to puff on that joint for this long without choking long.

“No.”

And Rick begins a shuffle toward the kitchen. Eddie follows in an awkward half-step, headache threatening to bloom someplace in the back of his skull because he does not know how much more of this vagueness he can take!

“Does it have anything to do with why you called me down here? Because, shit, I would love to get a straight answer out of someone for once!” A mirthless chuckle follows, trying to soften his desperation.

A flick of the refrigerator door and Rick places two beers on his kitchen counter, hands bracing against the surface. “Then let’s sit crooked and talk straight. It’s about your…”

Hss. Eddie takes a notoriously mis-timed sip.

“...neighbor girl.”

Ffflp– Eddie wishes, just one day of his goddamned life, he could act cool at the mention of you. Even the suggestion of the mention of you. But no, he’s got PBR streaming from his nose like a moron and a look on his face that says uh-oh, spaghettio!

“That’s what I was afraid of,” says Rick, taking a knowingly smooth drink from his beer.

With the heel of his hand, Eddie wipes away his spluttering mess and fumbles around for a crumb of nonchalance.

“I don’t know–”

“Eddie,” Rick levels. God, Eddie hates it when adults are adults, and Rick hates having to act the adult even more.

His shoulders drop. “What about her?”

“Well, when I was in the pen–local, I’ll have you know–I got approached by a very interesting man with a proposition I was powerless to refuse.”

With some trepidation, Eddie mumbles, “Oh, yeah?”

“Someone– well, let’s say me and this someone have a friend in common…”

“Rick–” Eddie’s attempting the leveling thing, but he’s not as good at it as Rick is. Or as you are, for that matter. And you’re who he’s attempting to imitate here, even if he won’t admit it.

“--a certain mutual business partner, if you will–”

“Rick.” Eddie tries to punch through the tension with the big man’s name. “It was Lacy’s dad. Right? You can just say it was her dad.”

Rick’s brow sinks into a wrinkle. “...Lacy? The fuck kind of a dumb name is that?”

“It’s a nickname.” Why does Eddie feel defensive.

“The fuck kind of a dumb nickname is that?”

“They call you Reefer Rick.”

“That is a calculated business decision, a calling card if you w–”

“Rick. Can we close in on the point, here?” Ooh! Seems to actually work this time, much to Eddie’s relief. “I only got so many if you wills left in me.”

“Si, pronto,” Rick nods with apologetic understanding; he’s such an empath, this guy, “Long and short of it is, her pops offered me a little bit of cash and some assistance, iffin’ I promised to keep an eye on her.”

“Assistance…?” Eddie murmured out of the side of his mouth. It’s all in the way Rick says it! “Like…” Hand a loose fist. Jerky-jerk.

“Eddie,” Rick chides, “Assistance gettin’ out. In prison, that is just called bein’ sociable. –anyway, I have this conflict of interest, with the whole surveillance thing.”

“And what is that?”

“You.” The way Rick drops it is obviously meant to cause some kinda ripple effect of realization, but Eddie’s still confused.

“So you… didn’t take the money?”

“Huh?” Now Rick’s all confused. “Of course I took the fuckin’ money! What kind of a chump do I look like, man? What I’m getting at is, I knew that rattin’ on her also meant rattin’ on you.”

“Wh– why would it…”

“I got eyes everywhere, man. Dig? I’ve seen what’s been happening.”

Eddie’s heart leaps into his larynx. Eyes everywhere. And the truth was, you two had been stupid enough to be a lot of everywhere, thinking your respective trailers were the only hot zones. The Bookstore, the Hawk, Main Street Vinyl, Family Video, the diner, you name a Hawkins establishment and it has probably seen Eddie Munson and Lacy Doevski good-naturedly bickering in its aisles.

He wonders if Rick even had eyes in the Ecker trailer. Ronnie could be a Lipton informant. That girl can hold a secret about as well as Wayne Munson can hold his liquor, which is gracefully.

“Nothing’s been happening, we’re just–”

“Eddie.” Like a bulldozer, this guy. “I know Ivana pretty well. You ain’t hangin’ around that bookstore for the good of your health.”

“So what, you’re gonna–,” Eddie can feel himself starting to scramble, starting to sweat, backed into a corner like a hunted animal, “...tell her dad that we went to the movies a couple of times? That I go to her job, that I– that we’re–”

“What are you?” The way Rick puts it to him– rock, meet hard place. Should this really feel like such a tough question to answer?

“Friends.”

Rick draws up to his full height (tall, mountain man) and looks at him like he just shoved a cream pie into his face.

“It doesn’t matter, okay!” Eddie froths over, like a snapping dog, “We’re barely hanging out– anymore– so you can… you’re not gonna tell him anything, are you?”

Rick’s hands slowly, slowly rise, urging him to calm the yapping. No need to get into such a tizzy. Which Eddie wishes he could believe.

“‘course not, man,” he shakes his head, “Ray Doevski only needs to know what Ray Doevski absolutely needs to know.” Eddie can feel a little more weight behind that sentence than he’d like. “No reason you need to figure into this story.”

“That– that’s it? You’re not gonna tell him about u– about me?”

“You’re in enough of a shitheap as it is, is how I see it.” A beat. Rick takes him in; really takes him in. Feels like an embrace, his stare. Concern uncrinkles the ever-present smile in Rick’s eyes.

“Eddie, you care about this girl?”

Eddie’s mouth attempts to form around an answer, but he’s just blinking into nothing. Does he care about you? Does he care about you? He wants, needs to say no, to pfft you off, but every molecule is screaming otherwise. And Rick can sense it, operating on the extraterrestrial level that he does.

“Then I’m real sorry.”

“For what?”

As if on cue, car wheels on gravel shuck Rick’s attention away from him. His eyeballs jitter in his head, heading for the door– Eddie close behind him. “Sorry for what, Rick–?!”

“Little bit for that, little bit for… this.”

Standing in the window of Rick’s living room, these two watch an offensively red muscle car skew into the driveway, making a mockery of Eddie’s beat up van. The driver’s door pops open and the first thing Eddie clocks is a blinding glint off some brand new aviator sunglasses.

The second is that trademark Munson smile.

—

“This is exciting!” Nancy Wheeler says, kind of flatly but with a conviction buried deep under her curled bangs.

On the table sits two piles of playing cards, one steadily growing and one steadily decreasing.

You two had taken to playing gin rummy when staring at paper layouts became a little too much. Technically, she actually had a say in layout and you were just nosy, but it’s a decent excuse to hang out. Though, both you and Nancy had this incredible tendency to hyperfocus on detail so hard that neither of you could pull the other out far enough to look at the big picture, so one day she tossed a deck of cards your way and said, “Deal!”

“I know,” you say, trying to focus on these melds of suits you’re making– that discard pile is looking poor, “Fresh turn for me, y’know? Less fluffy, more Didion.”

Nancy snorts softly, swapping out a card from her hand. “Who does that make Eddie? Charlie? Or Linda Kasabian?”

A smile dances across your lips and you shrug, reaching for a cigarette before you go for another card. Usually, smoking in the newsroom was prohibited, as it was prohibited on most of Hawkins High grounds, but whenever that deck came out, you felt it was appropriate for at least one of you to be smoking. Gave a kind of Torchy Blane feel to the whole scenario which fit you and Wheeler pret-ty keenly, if you did say so yourself.

“That’s not what I was talking about, though,” Nancy says, poking Fred Benson’s empty mug toward you to use as an ashtray.

Your eyes narrow; this could be a play to distract you from a winning hand.

“It’s not?”

“No…” she puffs out another soft scoff, meeting your eyes over her fan of cards, “I mean the college guy.”

“Why is it exciting?” and you do want to know why Nancy thinks so. She’s a mile wiser beyond her years, even precocious enough to keep in step with you most of the time. You’d like her take.

“Well, it’s what you wanted, right?” she tells you, watching you puff your cigarette and dig into the stock pile. “Somebody older, decidedly not a grabby high school boy– but someone with more experience, both with girls and with being outside of Hawkins. And the fact he goes to Vassar means–”

“He probably eats kitty like a maniac.”

Nancy lets out this full-bodied Merlot of a laugh, only a little color dashing over her cheeks. She’s gotten used to you being provocative on purpose because it gets a laugh out of her. So far grown out of the prude shoes you were sure she was still sporting. You’re proud of her.

“Not exactly what I was getting at but– more sensitive to the female perspective, sure.” But then she registers what you forgot you’d even dropped. “Hold on, probably? You mean you haven’t–...”

You shrug. It’s a little withdrawn on your part.

“Oh,” Nancy says, and seems to be leaning a degree or two towards unsurprised. That ruffles your feathers a little bit. Again, with the frigid thing. You couldn’t shake it.

“No,” you emphasize, shucking your pitiful melds back again. “It's not as if we haven't–done things. I've copped a handful. Time is of the essence, and I take, y'know, a little more time to get there.”

“So no return on investment...?”

"Not... yet."

Nancy almost tosses her cards at you, the way she jabs them through the air. “You? You, the one who’s been preaching Betty Friedman to me, you haven't been getting–”

“Yes, me! Did you not hear me about time and the essence?”

“I know, it’s just– a little surprising.”

There have been exactly three instances of almost you tying your panties to the rearview mirror of college boy’s Ford Cortina, so to speak, and you’ve come out of each one with this desperate echo of oh well! Maybe next time! careening around your skull. Like you’re trying to convince yourself that by virtue of him not being in your grade, this has been a worthwhile way to spend your time. And listen, no misunderstandings here, it has! At least, part of it. It usually starts like this– the two of you grab some shitty diner coffee or some shitty diner food and then he takes you around in his car for a turn or two, admiring that famous Hawkins scenery (see: shuttered businesses and if you’re really lucky, that one mangy fox that feasts on the overflowing trash can near the Big Buy). You talk (you mostly talk) books and movies and say something that should be a hook of conversation but usually ends up with him screwing his face up in amusement and saying something along the lines of, “God, you’re so beyond this place.”

Which, duh. You’ve been saying this. This is the raft upon which your whole identity floats.

The exchange dies in the air and he puts his hand on your leg and that is just… wonderful. He’s a solid B on the kissing GPA, and he’s cute and sort of funny, even if he doesn’t rally back jokes the way you’d… sort of gotten used to. Sometimes he makes a halfway-interesting observation about like, Philip Roth or somebody. But when it comes down to the minute of it, it still feels like going through the motions. Fumble bra strap, catch nail on his zipper, crank back passenger seat to climb in the back. Hey presto, you’ve distractedly jerked off a boy once again.

You are not entirely sold on the fit of his hands on your body, even if he doesn’t look at you like he’s just solved a Rubik’s cube.

In fact, he kind of looks at you like you’re precious. Virginal precious. Innocent precious. Which you’re not totally sold on either.

Nothing about him that makes you fantasize about what his mouth might feel like on you. What your fingers might feel like wound around his curls. His hair doesn’t even curl. There’s just nothing about him that calls for your full attention.

“Think there might be a reason for that?” Nancy, your annoyingly perceptive Nancy, presses. Goddamn intrepid girl reporter. She hasn’t stopped staring at you with that smug little look. You haven’t answered the question. “And it might be… living across the way from you?”

“Tch. What?” you snip. “I’m… having fun. What?”

“Nothing,” she smiles. “Just… gin.”

She lays out her dazzling melds, complete with a measly goddamned three in deadwood cards and you toss your own bullshit hand to the side. A dumb amount of spades that add up to nothing scatter across the desk. An accusatory finger jams in her direction.

“You are a fucking card shark.”

“Nope!” Nancy says, popping her ‘p’, “I just know a really great set when I see one.”

Reaching into Fred’s mug, you crush your cigarette with a little too much force. Now, how would Nancy have a read on that? you think, oblivious to your own obviousness. (Like a neon sign. Like a circus tent.)

You hadn’t even reminded her of the catastrophic events of her thirteenth birthday which led to a whole lot of this awkwardness, which, now that you thought about it, actually implicated her in the crime of you kissing Eddie Munson ‘til you were breathless in Granny Ecker’s closet.

If you hadn’t been born and had a birthday, I wouldn’t be in a spiral over some boy with a curl pattern like a fucking backwoods libertine.

“You’re not clever,” you tell her, but she’s looking at you all cleverly, “Like. You’re clever, but I need you to know that you’re not clever.”

With flicking fingernails, Nancy picks up your discarded cards and folds them neatly back in the deck.

“I’m just saying,” and the tone she takes is a little gentler now, “don’t… let yourself miss out on something just because, I don’t know, the thing you’re currently having fun with is what you think you want. What you feel you want and what you think you want are two very different–”

“This isn’t entirely about me, is it?” you realize, defenses peeling down a little bit. The Nancy and Steve of it all had been looming since your (admittedly triumphant!) visit to the war memorial that was the boy’s bathroom. Still no sign of that place getting fixed, by the by. And ever still, Nancy hadn’t told Steve about their little mission. Many a reason for that, you were led to believe. Not a lot she wanted to dissect, though.

Nancy’s face scrunches up and she stops packing the cards.

“No. But let’s pretend like it is.”

A groan escapes you as you sink back into your chair, a twinge of pain running along your shoulders.

“Nance. This is all so much more complicated than you realize.”

“Try me.”

You toss a hand through your hair, slapping your palm down on the desk.

“Fine. But if I tell you this–”

A hand rises out between the two of you– yours, pinkie extended.

“Not a word,” you press.

Nancy clamps her finger around yours in a way that enforces how super-serious she is about this. The reason your usual reserve doesn’t hold up under that x-ray stare of hers is because you can tell she actually gives a shit. She’s not looking for gossip. She cares. Which is still an entirely alien feeling to you.

So the whole thing spills out. Steve’s party, the record store, getting locked up in Eddie’s trailer and getting locked up in feelings, Roane County Quarry’s incredible acoustics, the friendship that made you fold all the neatly arranged origami parts of yourself out toward him only to realize you had no idea how to fold them back. The kiss. The subsequent awkwardness of said kiss. The college guy. The relative radio silence. The fact that…

“...I don’t feel like myself when he’s not around,” you say, lighting a fourth cigarette off your third. “Isn’t that silly? I spent all this time painting this like, fabulous eggshell of myself then this wild-eyed, smart-mouthed, catastrophic ass smashes it clean open and now–”

“All the college boys couldn’t put you together again,” Nancy nods. “You’re a very beautiful Humpty Dumpty.”

“... does Humpty Dumpty die in the end?”

“Maybe we shouldn’t be teaching it to kids.”

“No. They should know. The fall comes for us all.”

There’s a suspended silence. You get this feeling like you’ve emptied your purse on the table and you still can’t find that thing you’re looking for, despite sifting through everything.

“How does that even happen?” you question, biting at the skin on your little finger. Not Humpty Dumpty, the Eddie thing. It comes out idle, but you pray that Nancy, with her feelings scalpel and surgical precision, doesn't decide to answer it.

Instead, she says, “You need a photographer for that piece.”

Thatta girl. Your dimmer switch turns up. “Fred hasn’t even okayed it yet.”

“I’ll deal with William Randolph Hearst, okay?” Nancy says derisively and tosses her eyes to heaven. She pushes her chair back. “Ask Jonathan Byers.”

“He hasn’t taken photos for us in a while,” you remark, eyes searching Nancy. She’s readying herself to leave, so totally dodging this line of questioning before you can even cast it. Clever.

“No, he has not,” she sighs, winding her scarf around her neck, “But he’d be good for this. He knows how to capture action. And his kid brother plays DnD with mine, so this’d be, like… nice for them.”

And this is just as much me making amends with Jonathan Byers as it is you, backwards as it may seem, you nearly hear her say. Or you’re making that up.

Shame Nancy is so dead set on becoming the next Nellie Bly. Under the right circumstances, she’d make a hell of a normal person.

Good thing you prefer freaks.

—

Jonathan Byers is a notoriously hard boy to get a hold of, it turns out. Nancy passed along his number (which, you actually already had but you didn’t bring that little detail up) and when you finally punched it in on the yellowing phone nailed to the wall of your trailer, it rang and rang and rang.

Which, after the fourth time, was just rude. Do the Byers have a thing about not answering the phone, or something?

“Jonathan!” you holler across the parking lot, emerging from the passenger side of Nancy’s car this time.

College guy was decidedly busy and despite the hanging tension, you’d toyed with the idea of asking Eddie for a ride. Alas, the boy in the Dio patched battle vest was nowhere to be seen. His van hadn’t been there since the weekend and he had been MIA from school the last couple of days, actually, which was itching at you.

It also made you miss when you had a goddamn set of wheels at your disposal.

Anyway, Jonathan looks at you with flaring eyes, kind of like you’ve just stuck a shotgun to his snout and there’s no hope of him making a getaway. “Um…”

Now, keep in mind that these are the first words you’ve spoken to him in a measurable high school forever, so his surprise is entirely justified. It’s just not within the beam of your patience right now.

“Hi. Can we chat?” you say, falling in step with him as you head towards the front door. You don’t bother asking for permission, and forgiveness won’t be necessary. “I was hoping you could help me out with a piece for the Streak.”

Blink, blink. Jonathan’s grasping for words– seems to be a lot of that going around lately.

You strike your hand through the air. “Let me put it to you like this– you are going to help me out with a piece for the Streak.”

“Why?” he asks, and it’s prickly.

“Becauuuse,” you draw out, “I need a photographer. And god knows whenever Nicole attempted to work a lens, those snapshots were so out-of-focus they looked like an optical illusion.”

“And, you’re not talking to Nicole right now,” Jonathan nails you, but not totally. In your mind, you revisit flashes of Nicole recounting, in gloriously erroneous detail, those photos Jonathan had taken of Nancy. You had pretended to be scandalized and rolled your eyes, thinking what’s a little peep show among losers.

“Even if I was,” you say, dogging Jonathan all the way to his locker, “I still wouldn’t ask her. This is important to me.”

That avoidant Byers reserve stands strong, with Jonathan grabbing books in hurried succession. He is trying to get away from you, but that’s not happening without an emphatic yes!

“I don’t even really–”

“Take pictures anymore?” you pfft, pointing to his messenger bag, “Twenty bucks says your camera is in there and the film’s half shot.”

“I don’t have twenty bucks.”

“Me neither,” you shrug, “Spent it on that new Echo & the Bunnymen.”

Jonathan hesitates a bit, fingers strumming against his biology textbook. A thread of something long forgotten by the listening booths of Main Street Vinyl tugs between you both, but it’s not weighed down by the prospect of will we kiss about it. He kind of smiles.

“What did you think? I haven’t gotten down to hear it yet.”

You thought it made you want a flowing dress and a place to prance. Like if the more whimsical end of Fleetwood Mac didn’t exhaust you. Those last four tracks snapped your heartstrings like suspenders, with comical aplomb.

“Grandiose! That ‘Killing Moon’ song? It’s got Jonathan Byers written all over it,” you chirp, and mean it. “I’ll make you a copy if you put that camera to work for me.”

He shrugs, but you can see you’re wearing him down. “I’m not much for shooting pep rallies.”

“Liar. Wheeler says you’re top banana in the action shots department,” you counter, “But how about players? I think I want some portraits, too. Non-corny ones.”

“What team?” Jonathan screws up his nose. The distaste for jockery runs deep, and rightfully so.

But you shake your head, face curving into an expression of near excitement.

“No team. Better, and worse, depending on what side of the cafeteria you’re sitting,” your hands splay out, and for god’s sake, you feel like Munson himself, “Hellfire Club.”

Jonathan looks like his record’s skipped. Eyeballs sort of jiggle in his skull and he mouths, oh, like the association of you between Hellfire should mean something. Suspiciously like Nancy, and just suspicious period. Your eyebrows start to inch towards one another.

“What’s that look? Does that mean you’ll do it?”

“Um,” he dillies, then dallies, “Sure. Yeah. You know, my kid brother loves DnD.”

Ah, yes. The other Byers boy, the one who’d gone missing all that time ago. You remembered. Actually, you remembered not being able to figure out how you should feel about it– how you should act, other than falling in line with the majority of people who were giving Jonathan shit at the time. You regret that now, with a chill that runs right down to your toes.

“Could be cool for him to see, no?” you try, corner of your mouth lifting, “A little niche in the midst the high school horrors. To look forward to, y’know.”

The look on Jonathan’s face is more than a little bit screaming, that’s rich, coming from you, you were the high school horror. But he shakes it off, because he’s nicer than you are, even though he doesn’t need to be.

“Yeah… whatever you say, Lacy. When do you need me?”

You tell him Friday and he agrees, much to your satisfaction. You’re just about to punch him on the shoulder like teamwork, buddy! before he saves you such a wildly out-of-character display by dodging toward his homeroom.

You sail toward your locker like the bastard that’s risen alongside the cream, only to be greeted by something… strange. Scratches, all around the maudlin gray paintwork of your combination lock. Like it’d been tampered with, or something. A blaze of paranoia burns at the base of your skull, and you instinctively try to recount where your journal is… in your bag. Phew. Fine. This could be… anything.

Fingers reach forward to twist your lock, and with the slightest touch, the door is forced open by a push from the other side. A flash of bright red, then SPLAT. Yellow, SPLAT, blue, SPLAT, SPLAT, SPLAT! You shriek a real ear-piercing shriek as at least a dozen water balloons spill out of your locker, hitting the floor with an obscene smack. Water dashes everywhere, and you’re barely able to move out of the splash zone in time.

“What the fuck!’

Within seconds, there’s a hubbub and a crowd’s gathering, trading sickening snickers with one another as you peer into the dark of your locker. You gingerly step through the puddle, suede boots irreparably spattered, and yank the door the whole way open. There, sat atop your schoolbooks and a stray water balloon that hadn’t made the fall, is a horribly familiar set of test tubes.

In one of them sits a squirt of blue liquid and that offensive strip of plastic. And scrawled across it in clumsy black marker?

IT’S A FREAK!

Realization hits you like Carol did, making your head swim among all the murmurs of oh my god… and gross! and told you–trailer trash and unconcealed cackles. A voice sparks up like a sizzling ember in a swathe of darkness.

“Where’s your baby daddy at, Lacy? Get tossed in the slammer with your old man?”

The languid tones of none other than Billy All-Balls-No-Brains Hargrove drift by you, sailing right past the back of your head as you stare a hole through the innards of your locker. Then, your stupid hippocampus gears up– Robin, mentioning ‘your whole thing’ while Genovese baby-barfed her guts up, Ronnie urging her to shut the fuck up, even Jonathan Byers was privy to this hot little piece of gossip.

This theory that you were up the spout with Munson Junior Junior.

How many people had seen you, stupid little you, coming out of that drugstore hiking that Advance box over your head like the championship cup? Seen you hopping into Eddie’s van– and out of it, and back in again on what now seemed like countless occasions?

Nobody could have suspected it was Nancy’s test, because nobody saw her. They saw you. That was the whole idea. You just didn’t consider the blowback.

“What’s going on out here?” the softly-coated concern of Ms Kelley rings out in the hallway, doing absolutely nothing to disperse the peanut gallery that’s set up around your locker.

“Lacy?” her voice points to you. Even the goddamn guidance counselor uses your beloved nickname.

You don’t react. You don’t even know what you’re doing until you come to a couple of paces down the hallway, feeling the thin, straining rubber in the palm of your hand. Your footsteps make heavy, wet, slapping noises against the linoleum as you follow the half-slouched shouldered swagger of Billy Hargrove down the hall.

Down, and down, and down towards the boy’s locker room and he doesn’t even register it, and you don’t even register that Ms Kelley is still calling your name–your full name, now–until she’s two dozen paces behind you, losing you in the throng of students making their way to class and you shove past half-dressed seniors in the locker room who guffaw at you in a way that feels like a knife in your gut and you yell, voice shaking–

“Hey Billy!”

And launch the water balloon, making square contact with his smug face.

“Cute fucking prank!”

His reaction, predictably, is way too slowww moooootion for your fucking liking, so you don’t even give him a shot to fully wipe his face off and mumble, “What the fuuuuck is yourrrr probbbblemmm, ssssllluuuutttt…”

You just go for him with the ferocity of a jumping jackal. Hands ball in his stupid sleeveless flannel (it’s winter in Indiana, you West Coast jackass!) and you shove him against the lockers with– well, with the strength only an ex-cheerleader brimming with suffocated rage would have.

Metal clatters and one empty unit even careens over like a big tin domino and you say, “Come up with that idea all by yourself, you fucking nimrod?”

Billy just smirks at you in half-speed, mullet sopping, as if this is a come-on. “I had a little help.”

It occurs to you that right here, right now, you could sell Nancy Wheeler down the river. You could be the you you once were, and you could say, well, primo observation skills, that pregnancy test wasn’t even for me!

But you don’t, because a pinky promise is a fucking pinky promise.

You let go of Billy’s shirt. Step off. “You’re pathetic,” you spit, but it feels more pathetic coming from you. All that molten blood in your veins makes you want to eviscerate him and whoever else was involved in orchestrating this stupid, stupid, stupid prank. But you come up lacking. Fuck!

Tears prickle at the corners of your eyes and you start to rush out of the locker room– but you’ve given Billy a reason now, and he’s gonna follow you.

“Shit, are you crying? Those hormones must have you really messed up, huh?” he faux-croons, the thunk-thunk of his poseur motorcycle boots following you to the back entrance, by the sports equipment. Your eyes are streaming freely now, lashes frantically blinking a path to vision.

But Billy isn’t letting up. And like the Pied Piper of slimeballs, he’s drawing followers– not least of which include Tommy Hagan.

“What about that college dropout you’re banging, Lacy?” his nasally tone slices through Billy’s tarry taunting. “He know you’re knocked up yet?”

“Jesus Christ, Doevski! I’m impressed,” Billy laughs, “Just how many loads are you taking?”

An abandoned baseball bat lies on the ground, having rolled out of the sports closet; instinct behind the wheel of your personal van, you stoop to pick it up and shove through the doors. You can nearly feel the breath of Hargrove and Hagan and all of these horrific, horrific boys with nothing better to do than to torture you hot on the back of your neck.

“Not yours, that’s for fucking sure,” you manage, your voice thick. The bat, at least, feels solid in your hand.

“It’s fun not being frigid, ain’t it, Lacy?” Billy goes on, and you squint against the sunlight as you round the building. “Tell me this, Munson teach you how to suck cock yet? ‘cause if not, I got a little time on my hands.”

Forging ahead, you cross the tarmac of the parking lot. The soft frost hasn’t even totally thawed out yet, sparkling atop the paintwork of Billy’s blue Camaro.

“That a fact, Billy?” you say, tears drying in quick streaks in that brisk morning air, leaving rivets in your made-up face.

You use your momentum to launch one foot onto the hood of Billy’s car, then the other. You nearly slip against the icy exterior, but steady yourself fast. Bat dangling at your side. Stomp. Stomp. You stand on the roof, and turn to face this congregation of assholes. You do not let sense set in, despite it threatening to inch through the white hot flame of your rage.

“What the fuck are you doing,” Billy outright cackles and Hagan and company guffaw along with him.

“Billy,” you sigh, a little breathless from the speed at which you’d booked it from the locker room to the parking lot, and the sheer vigor of your shock, awe and rancor, and everything else, “What the hell am I supposed to do with your limp dick in my mouth? Chew on the fuckin’ thing?”

Billy repeats himself, a touch darker now. “What the fuck are you doing.”

“I’m serious!” you say, a little shrill, a little stomp to punctuate that last word, “One thing you can say for Eddie Munson, is at least the motherfucker can get hard!”

Motorcycle boots advance towards you, and you point the bat at him like a broadsword.

“Do not. Come any closer. Or I’m gonna start doing some serious damage to this ugly piece of overcompensation.”

“She’s bluffing,” Hagan crows, and you turn your flaming glare on him. You wish you had a mirror– you wonder if crazy becomes you. Billy takes a pointed step forward and you raise the bat above your, head bracing for action– that’s enough movement for him.

“Gimme that bat, you stupid fucking cunt–!” But Billy’s cut short by a body barrelling into the side of him, knocking him askew. A jangle of denim and leather. The bat slips a little in your grasp.

“Get the fuck off of me Munson–”

“No way to talk to a lady, Billy!” Eddie gasps, tossing Billy back and letting his limbs hang. “You kiss Karen Wheeler with that mouth?”

Billy rounds on him like a triggered animal, spittle flying.

“Some fucking lady!” he snarls, “Got downgraded to that trailer park and now her snooty ass is spreading it for half of Hawkins! Desperate! Stringin’ you along like the dumb piece of shortbus shit you a–”

Activated, you throw that bat to the fucking wayside and scramble off the fucking car– nobody talks to him like that!

But you’re not fast enough, nobody’s fast enough, nobody can compete with how huge and booming and definite Eddie’s voice sounds when he says, smile glimmering, sun breaking through the bleak midwinter…

“You know what I like about you, Hargrove?”

THKUNCK. Bone to bone, fist meet fucking flesh–

“Nothin’.”

A scuffle goes up, and Eddie can’t even feel the hits of Hargrove’s hands connecting with his face, chest, ribs, wherever– all he can feel are your arms locking in vice around his waist, putting yourself in the eye of the storm in order to yank him back.

—

You got an elbow to the crown of the head, which isn’t too bad, even if you feel like a cartoonish lump should be rising there. But look at these other guys.

Billy with a black eye that’s bulging up rapidly, Eddie with a split lip and more than a couple of scratches on his knuckles. In that fray, he hadn’t exactly considered the implications of punching a guy with all his goddamned rings on. The implications being that shit hurt like hell. There is this radiating pain in his hand, not letting him unfurl his fingers completely.

There’s also this radiating feeling of dread cloaking his entire upper half as you sit three-to-the-wall outside Higgins’ office. You had, in Eddie’s estimation, incredibly bad timing.

See, considering the events of his past week, he was slowly making peace with the fact that he should probably be avoiding you entirely, even if that meant he died a little inside. He should have been doing that from the jump– but you, unbuttoned and reckless now apparently, kept requiring interventions so you didn’t get killed, or worse.

And Eddie couldn’t help himself when it came to you. Especially not when you were standing on top of Billy Hargrove’s sick Camaro, swinging a baseball bat and getting called some shit that no one should ever be calling you.

You’re out of control. Totally unsheathed. End of your rope. Unlaced.

And he’d do just about anything to keep you safe.

Even fuck up his guitar-playing hand. Which is also his…

“I can’t believe you fucking suckerpunched me,” Hargrove mumbles from your left. “With those ugly fucking rings on.”

Eddie can’t help himself, the last shred of propriety knocked out round about the time a knee to the ribs had winded him. “Aw. Billy. Don’t be so hard on yourself–”

“Eddie…,” you start, tone warning in a way that makes him want to pinch you, kind of. He leans towards Hargrove, meaning he’s leaning over you. Hair brushing across your shoulder. You notice that it smells distinctively skunkier than usual. Camping out at Lipton Landing?

“--honestly! You’re no sucker!” he implores, eyes shining in jest, “You totally had that coming!”

You hear Billy seething from his end, Eddie snickering from his and launch a well-timed arm in front of both of them before they can snap at it again.

“Cut it out, assholes! This is becoming increasingly more pigheaded.”

“And you’re the voice of perfect reason now, huh?” Eddie sneers, not giving you much breathing room. “Where’s the bat at, Babe Ruth?”

“In the parking lot, waiting to finish you off,” you grit back, nearly nose-to-nose with him, because you don’t know how to digest the guilt of his aching fingers.

“What are you mad at me for?” Eddie hisses, a smirk threatening to break his scowl, because he doesn’t know how not to provoke you.

“Knocking her up, probably,” Billy mumbles from the side.

“Shut up, Hargrove!” you both snap, eyes never leaving one another.

Higgins’ door creaks open and a quietly livid Ms Kelley says, “Lacy.” She jerks her head, motioning for you to up and at ‘em. You do, but not without one last look at Eddie, cradling his hand. Round, bottomless irises meet yours for a moment, then dart away with an impact that thickens your throat.

His poor hand, you find yourself thinking.

“He needs an ice pack…” you find yourself mumbling, Kelley shuffling you into Higgins’ office. The principal sits behind his beat-up desk, fingers steepled. You absently wonder if he’s been campaigning for a new, shinier, possibly more oaken desk because this doesn’t paint the picture of threatening figurehead that he so clearly wants you to tremble under.

You accidentally kick the thing, crossing your legs as you sit. “Sorry.”

“You should be,” Higgins declares. Here we fucking go.

“Permission to state my case?” you attempt. This hadn’t been your first time in the principal’s office; minor classroom infractions, a saccharine we’ll do everything to help that we can after your dad’s arraignment, but this time was certainly the worst.

“Denied,” he shoots you down.

“Permission to submit a plea of temporary insanity, then,” you try, patting at the sore spot on the crown of your head. “You know this doesn’t bode with my track record. You think I climbed on top of Billy Hargrove’s car completely compos mentis? Please.”

A tense silence from Higgins’ and Kelley’s end.

“You saw what Hargrove did, didn’t you? That disgusting prank?”

Again, nada.

“I’m a honor student, for Chrissake!” you exclaim, and Kelley plucks herself from the windowsill behind Higgins’ desk.

“Were an honor student, Ms Doevski,” she corrects. “Your grades have been slipping since– the events of the last couple of months. You’ve dropped cheerleading, you’ve made really puzzling false claims about peer tutoring, you…”

“Yes! Yes, the events of the last couple of months, if by which you mean familial imprisonment, then yes, I’ve been a little distracted!”

Higgins kicks back in his seat just as you hitch forward in yours, too angry to be pleading but too desperate to defy. His turn to mutter here we fucking go.

“I can turn this around,” redirected to Ms Kelley and her ever-sympathetic expression, “I can turn this around.”

“College applications deadlines are within touching distance, Lacy.” She of little faith.

“I know that!” As if your hands aren’t itching every time college guy mentions Ithaca or… wherever the fuck it is he goes. As if that isn’t a crack in the assuredness that you were going to take flight out of this town in a spectacular fashion.

“Ladies– can we dispense with the hysteria and deal with the here and now?” Higgins insists and you and Kelley, despite your opposition, share a look.

World class, this guy. Top of his field, asshole-wise.

“Two week suspension should do it,” he says, jotting something down.

You open your mouth in protest and Kelley quells you– you’re in no position to start bargaining down.

“Technically, she didn’t do anything,” and for good measure, but pressed, “Sir.”

“She climbed on top of that boy’s car with a baseball bat!” Higgins barks; now who’s hysteric?! “She had intent to do harm!”

“It was justified.” You can’t help yourself.

Kelley stares him down, and that woman’s charm is something that should be studied in a fucking lab, because he relents right away.

“Two weeks of Saturday detention, then. Christ. Am I going soft?”

You shake your head, all the knots in your body releasing just a little bit. You try to dig out what’s left of your once-famously refined charm, while simultaneously dashing towards the door before he can change his mind.

“Au contraire. You’re a paragon of masculinity, sir. Regan could take a hint. Door open or closed?”

Higgins grimaces. “Send in Hargrove. Tell Munson he’s suspended. I don’t have time for both of those pricks today.”

Eddie’s voice travels through the crack in the door. “I heard that, sir.” A beat. “I miss you, sir.”

You bite back a deeply reluctant laugh and jerk your head toward Billy. You’re up, champ.

Then, it’s the two of you. You and Eddie, Eddie and you. Alone, save for the ever watchful jam jar eyes of Janice the secretary. Eddie is still nestling one hand in the other like it’s a baby bird with a broken wing. Shit, you really hope it isn’t broken.

“You’re suspended. They told me to tell you.” It’s a statement made to turkey-stuff the silence more than anything.

The way Eddie lolls his head back makes you want to reach out and push it in the opposite direction. You don’t know why.

“You’re a regular town crier, ain’t ya.”

“Hear ye, hear ye.”

A leaden pause. Your hearts might have thumped both in time just now.

“Wanna get out of here?” he asks.

“No leaving school grounds,” Janice unhelpfully squawks.

Eddie gets up, drawing himself to his full height. Your eyelids flutter. There’s a little purple around that cut on his lip, which you bet is starting to throb something awful. You feel dwarfed beside him, and he uses his good hand to turn you by the shoulder and shuffle you past the nosy secretary’s post.

“I meant the sick bay, Janice,” Eddie pelts, giving each vowel sound a hard flick. “I’m wounded. And she’s apparently pregnant. Or didn’t you hear?”

—

The nurse’s office is tiny and cramped, smelling of bleach with a glaring fluorescent overhead. Eddie has a hard time figuring out why anyone would come here to feel better. Especially given that Nurse Lydia is barely ever present.

Eddie carpes the opportunity to slam himself down on her rolling saddle chair, gliding into your path as you try and snoop around for first aid materials.

“I don’t think you should be driving that thing,” you remark, “You could be concussed. You’re acting concussed.”

“It’s keeping me awake!”

Eddie watches you, digging through drawers and pulling out tongue depressors, your teeth making an indent into your bottom lip. Your eyes are doing that darty thing, quietly frantic in place of an apology. You don’t know how to say sorry you got wailed on by Hargrove for me. Instead, you’re acting like he’s bleeding out.

“Lace, just wait for the professional.”

The clip of your nickname makes you toss your stare over your shoulder, hardness framing your eyes like mascaraed lashes. Eddie stops rolling around at once.

“I am the goddamn professional, as far as you’re concerned.” Your little chin jerks towards the exam table that’s beat into the corner of the room. “Get on the bed.”

Whack-a-mole. Woodpecker. Other euphemisms for his cock developing a pulse. Eddie has to physically restrain his jaw from dropping.

“Yes, Nurse Ratched.”

Scoffing out a little fuck you!, you go about scrambling together supplies and Eddie obediently launches himself onto the bed, the ancient thing creaking beneath him. When you finally approach him, you seem to be holding a lot of alcohol pads.

The look before you admit to a shortcoming is one he wants framed. You always flick your eyes around like a guilty cartoon character, like Betty Boop on her way to gaining a doctorate in the pretentiousness of the English language, and pout. Lean your neck in, like you’re swearing him to secrecy.

“I actually don’t know anything about first aid. Beyond the rudimentaries.”

Eddie chuckles. “You were a cheerleader. You were getting thrown in the air a whole bunch, if I recall. Feels like you should know how to like, resuscitate.”

“Rudimentaries, I said!” and you grab his injured hand a little roughly, alcohol pad torn out and ready, “Like, I obviously know alcohol disinfects a wound, ice for a bruise… I don’t know how to, like, reset a bone. Besides…”

You inch closer to him now, wiping at his torn and tender knuckles a little too carefully. They’re just stupid cuts, Eddie thinks, his breath beginning to shallow.

“...that Cat People remake was premiering at the Hawk the day we had first aid training. Like I was going to miss that.”

He can feel heat radiating off your body, a core change for cold little you. Feel the fabric of your skirt brush the rip in his jeans. A little choked, he mumbles, “Cat People is a remake?”

“Based on the 1942 original,” you nod, flicking the tiny used pad in the nearby trash can. “I like it. But I like that David Bowie song more.”

“That song sucks.”

“You’re injured and wrong. What a shame.” Your fingers close around Eddie’s wrist and slowly, slowly press his forearm to his chest. “Keep that elevated.”

“It’s not broken,” and he’s staring at the quiet tremble in your bottom lip.

“Could be sprained,” head cast down again, tearing open another pad, and he can smell your hair, “Does it hurt?”

Eddie doesn’t answer right away, because he’s waiting for you to look back up. Because he thinks he’s going to carpe something else.

You fall for it, and your eyes sucker him in. He feels weak in the joints. You repeat yourself. “Does it hurt, Eddie?”

He just nods, boyishly. Nearly passes out when your fingertips tilt his face towards the light. Skin buzzing underneath them, you peering at his mouth like you know what you’re doing. The slit in his lip feels raw and strained.

“This’ll hurt, too,” you murmur, and he feels your breath against his jaw. A sharp prick from the alcohol against his cut doesn’t make him wince– worse. As you swipe the cotton against his bottom lip, he whimpers. Unh.

Oxygen stops short in your throat, hearing that. That noise. It sends a wave of motion through your lower body. You’re leaning awfully close to him, closer than you need to be. In fact, his knees are settled either side of your hips. How did that happen. When did that happen. How did you allow this.

How are you allowing your fingertip to trace against his lip, alcohol evaporating without a hope or a prayer. How are you allowing yourself to look at him through the fan of your lashes, his injured hand still obediently propped against his chest. His good hand pressing into your lower back.

You taste the vagueness of the disinfectant on his lips as he presses them into yours.

Jerking back, you’re not far enough away from him to create a distance that matters. All you see are Eddie’s eyes, flickering open, apologetic in themselves. About to tell you he’s sorry.

No.

Hands fly, one woven in the curls at the base of his skull as you kiss up into him, tongue an impolite peak. This is not the closet; this is arguably far more dangerous, with the nurse’s door still open a courteous gap. This is the harsh light of day. This is Eddie’s hand moving your skirt further up the curve of your ass.

He’s grabbing onto you as best a one-armed man can, and your hand travels in turn. A jagged, fevered path drawing up his thigh until, under your palm, is the hard outline of him. The pressure of your hand over the denim-bound curvature of his cock makes him groan sharply, the sound pressed against your cheek.

Face angles back for a look at him. Because this is bad, mindless, reckless, stupid. And he’s always worth a look.

You spot a tiny speck of blood on the pink of his lip from where his cut had split.

And your curious tongue flicks at it.

Eddie’s eyes flare. You, unable to unglue your stare from his, suck his lightly bleeding lip between yours. Fragile. Crushable.

He did this for you.

No one’s ever cared, or known you enough, to do something like that for you.

Desire moves you like a shockwave and your hand leaves his crotch to help you clamber onto the exam table, clamber into Eddie’s lap.

Downright idiotic.

You cast a glance to the door, Eddie’s fraught breath puffing against your neck.

Thought you were a smart girl.

You look right into his face, the poster boy for sheer distraction, pre-occupation, skin-searing annoyance, nervous charm, surprising wit, magnetism, oh my… and feel his fingers edging far past the hem of your skirt, past the binding top of the thigh-highs you’re wearing because it’s fucking laundry day and stopping at the gusset of your panties.

He can feel how wet you are.

Lips a breath away from each other, one set bleeding, one set housing a gasp. Eddie nudges his forehead against yours, the both of you blind to consequence.

“Just friends, right?” His breath is jagged and unconvinced, and your hips kick toward his hand.

You do not answer.

Unbruised fingers push the fabric covering your radiating heat aside and you have to tighten your grip around the back of his neck so as not to tumble over. Eddie is not deft, because this isn’t the moment to be deft. He plunges two fingers into the plush of your pussy and looks to you with pleading eyes. Eyes that say, is this good, eyes that say, don’t make a sound.

You nod in the affirmative to both and he drags his digits out slowly. Rhythm picks up and you’re clenching around Eddie’s hand in a matter of minutes, lower muscles seizing and het-up moans being gratefully swallowed by him. Pad of his thumb moves to create rough, clumsy friction against your clit that elicits a sharp, high, wanton ah! from you, grinding against him in an unquenchable search for more.

“Does he do this? Does anyone do this for you, Lacy?”

Eddie’s eyes keep searching you for approval and you’ve lost the ability to appease or deny him– all you know is the blind, nonsensical want that’s pouring out of you is being lapped up. Lapped up. His tongue, you want his tongue everywhere, but it’s working at your earlobe, your neck, sucking, whispering, “Just friends? Lacy?”

And when you cum, it’s fast and hard and suffocating, an achievement you’re close to angry at him for– because no one has ever been able to break you apart that fast.

Or at all.

He can never know. He’d be so insufferable about it… some bare fragment of a thought passes through your brain, synapses busy firing elsewhere.

You’re rocking against him through the crest, pressing your forehead to his with such a force that you’re frightened it’ll splinter, you’re murmuring, “Eddie… Eddie, d–hmn, fuck…”

And you can tell by the way he’s attempting to press his body against you that he wishes he hadn’t bust that stupid fucking hand of his, so he could hold you properly– and you’re right. You’re right, you’re always fucking right, but you told him to keep it elevated and he’s going to do what you say.

He’s got no choice when it comes to you.

He needs you safe. Needs you happy. No matter what.

Which is why he’s got to pull this bullshit move.

Eddie is patient and watches you regain a little consciousness, faster than he’s sure you’d like. He extracts his hand and, sticky with you still, wipes it on the thigh of his jeans. Heart thundering in his ears, he tugs you into one more breathless kiss and wonders if you can still taste the rust sharpness of his cut in between your lips. He’s strangled himself against cumming up till this point, and this doesn’t help matters. An imperceptible spot of pre-fun lies in his lap but the thing is, the really fucked thing is–

Eddie gently shoves you away, mind silently babbling for the right thing to say. I’m sorry is something you’d see right through, get off is too harsh, oopsie is too fucking whimsical–

But you, ever-perceptive you, you realize your place. Knock yourself back into reality so fiercely that he’s afraid it’ll bruise you, lovely, awe-inspiring you that just softened into his hands like that. You clumsily clamber off the exam table in a hot flash of rejection, which– no, god, no, he doesn’t mean that…

“I–”

“No, I know,” you grit, prickly all over. Thumbing at the edge of your blurred lipstick. “I know. I certainly know.”

Eddie dares to look at you and you dare to look back at him. His lips looking worse off from you, but at the very least kissed. At the very least kissed, but you could cry with the empty feeling inside you. A cavern of a girl. You nod curtly, like this is the conclusion of a particularly charged run-in of acquaintances, not like you wanted him to swallow you whole moments ago.

Slipping out of the nurse’s office, you run right into the myth that is Nurse Lydia.

She looks tan.

“He’s,” you struggle, “He’s waiting for you.”

—

Cheating out sick from school and taking a shift at The Bookstore following the latest in a series of apparently neverending aftershocks was probably not the smartest call– but hell, you’re fresh out of smart calls.

Ivana smells a rat, and she doesn’t take to rats lightly, so she gives you your space.

The morning ticks on at a pace that feels supernatural; like you’re witnessing outside of your body, like you can’t orient yourself in the right direction. You attempt to arrange and rearrange poets from alcoholic to puritan. You sell someone a copy of The Fountainhead without giving them their free blistering evisceration of Ayn Rand.

You’re at a loss. A shameful, dangling loss that almost makes you feel pious. Like you should go to confession.

Bless me, Father, for I have sinned… I let my one-time best friend, current-cloudy object of my affection get beat up for me then bring me to climax in the nurses’ office.

You retread the same sentence in your over-thumbed copy of Save Me the Waltz like a table corner you keep stubbing your toe on.

We couldn’t go on indefinitely being swept off our feet.

You said it, Alabama. Something’s got to land.

And, because someone down there wants you dead, land it does.

The bell of the store’s door clashes upon opening, and all of the energy draws toward one magnetic point. A shock of silver hair, standing on end catches the lamplight, glowing almost eerily.

You feel a zzzzip of static. The air feels charged.

He doesn’t face you right away. Kind of slinks into the place, edging along the shelves.

“Say, Lacy. Ballpark me somethin’,” his Southern drawl is barely contained within the Midwestern flatlands of his accent, bursting through the baseline like a corpse that hasn’t been buried deep enough. “How long… do you think…” His fingers tap along the worn spines of the display, creeping closer to the counter, “...it would take… to read all these books?”

The lilt of his voice is so familiar that you recognize it instantly. Even the way your name falls out of his mouth. Like a funhouse mirror, a distortion of a voice you’d come to…

Well. Let’s not get into that. Let’s get into this.

A roguish smile with a couple decades of road wear on it and a tacky Hawkins High class ring on his finger. You could’ve sworn Eddie told you he dropped out.

“How many years in the big house with nothin’ better to do?” He finally stops and pivots on his heel. The way he looks you over makes you nauseous and lightheaded, like he took a long, long sip out of you. Jammed a straw in your jugular and sucked.

Lot of blood play happening ‘round these parts.

“Hello, Al.”

“Hello, sweetheart. You filled out.”

author's notes: christ alive. i mean WELCOME BACK! i really missed you guys. happy new year, thank you for keeping me on the level with writing this chapter, it was so much FUCKING harder than i anticipated! was it too much warped angst? are the feelings complicated? does the pope shit in the woods?!!!!! you betcha. anyway, be seated for today's lesson - "less oedipus-y, more ea--..." there is an ending to that joke that i felt was too crass for the moment but if you can guess it you win a prize - the patchwork girl of oz is the seventh book in the wizard of oz series by l. frank baum! obviously. it's actually a laugh riot, you should check it out. scraps, the eponymous patchwork girl, is a full tilt lunatic who's kind of a bit of me. but theoretically, the patchwork girl made out of a thousand different scraps of everything else... bit of lacy innit - the mage in the mink coat is self referential lmao we've gotten to THAT point in the story - gravity's rainbow is a book that guys i dated used to recommend to me constantly which is like infinite jest for people who are ran through - i'm really fucking with college guy at this point, making him drive a ford cortina. because i think it is ugly - the plot of the annotated book that lacy gives eddie, still life with woodpecker by tom robbins, is... interesting eye emoji eye emoji. tom robbins also wrote even cowgirls get the blues which was adapted into a feature film starring, say it with me, robin's mom - the link wray song that soundtracked the lipton landing visit in question - "charlie? or linda kasabian?" go ahead and read the white album by joan didion for me wouldja buddyroo, just like lacy and nancy already have - fun fact, i played a two person game of gin rummy with myself to get into the mindset for this chapter. i suck at it - torchy blane is another one of my pre-code wonders-- glenda farrell plays an intrepid newspaperwoman, and this character actually went on to inspire lois lane from superman - and I KNOW some of you are going to be mad at lacy for fucking college guy, but... shit happens when you're a booksmart lovedumb eighteen year old that can't face up to her feelings! i don't wanna hear it! - fred benson i love you baby! i'm almost sorry i called you william randolph hearst, newspaper magnate and all around lunatic and the inspo behind the diss track citizen kane, but i'm not! - nancy wheeler has a photo of nellie bly in her locker where a photo of her beau should be - so echo & the bunnymen's 1984 album ocean rain is obviously most famous for the killing moon (jonathan byers you ARE my donnie darko) but may i point your attention to motherfucking seven seas - OH YOU KNOW I (EDDIE) HAD TO DO IT TO 'EM. this was shameless but i've had this in my heart for over ten years babe - for the purposes of this timeline, you know eddie is keeping higgins in pills. which is why he hasn't been kicked out of hawkins high so fast his lunchbox would combust - nurse ratched, obviously from one flew over the cuckoo's nest and that ill-fated ryan murphy series....tf was that...but also from this fucking sick tune! - save me the waltz is by zelda fitzgerald! my loves, thanks for hanging in for this chapter. i know it was a wait, but i hope you enjoyed! i also know it was a little more angsty pants than my usual fare-- but look baby. we need grist for the mill, okay? as always, reblogs, comments and likes are FIERCELY appreciated! love u all so much. my little hellcats. to die by your side etc

#e. munson by powder #published by powder #in progress #hellfire & ice #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x oc #rmr when i used to write 4k chapters.... god be with the days #anyway i love these fuckheads

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