#max dread weight

[ace-robot-has-matcha]

(Cooking companions)

(Dread weight)

[vesperione]

HAPPY PRIDE TO THE SQUIRREL

[stupidlysunny]

GUESS WHO THE FUCK GOT THEIR FRIEND INTO DREAD WEIGHT

[twirlyleafs]

“Bet”

Lando Norris x Verstappen! Reader

TW: Angst, betrayal, huuuurt

A/N: this pained me

~~~~

Lando started to sense something was wrong when you weren’t in the garage after qualifying. Usually, you’d be there, waiting with a bright smile and open arms. Just before he got into the car, he’d kissed you, feeling his chest tighten with affection as you laughed, cheeks dimpling, when he barely ghosted his lips over your skin. Like always, you’d whispered the same playful, “Break a leg,” but then softened, as you added, “Just… be careful, okay?” He’d winked, like he always did, flicked down the visor, and sped away.

When he returned, he instinctively searched for you, expecting that warm, familiar presence, only to feel the slight pang of disappointment settle in his chest when you were nowhere to be found. A hint of a frown tugged at his lips as he asked around, and one of the team members mentioned they thought they’d seen you leave. The uneasy feeling took root in his stomach, coiling tightly.

By the time he checked the Red Bull paddock, Lando was certain something was wrong. He found your brother, Max, and casually tried to play down his worry, not wanting to raise suspicions. Max’s relaxed shrug was far from reassuring. “I haven’t seen her,” he said, and Lando’s heartbeat drummed a little faster. Why would you leave without telling either him or Max? The question buzzed in his mind, feeding his anxiety. He tried texting and calling, but each time he was met with silence, the unanswered messages adding weight to his growing dread. In between interviews, he dialed your number, his patience thinning with every call that went straight to voicemail.

When he finally returned to the hotel room that night, the relief he’d been hoping for evaporated in an instant. You were there, but instead of the embrace he’d longed for, he found you frantically stuffing clothes into your suitcase, your expression stormy, tear-streaked, and entirely closed off.

“Baby?” His voice was tentative, almost afraid, as he quietly shut the door behind him. You didn’t respond, didn’t even look up. He took a few slow steps closer, his hand reaching toward you as if touching you might make you turn to him, might ease whatever pain seemed to radiate from you in waves. “Angel, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

“Save it, Lando.” Your voice cut through the room like a blade, as cold and sharp as he’d ever heard. Lando’s breath hitched, and he withdrew his hand, caught off-guard. He had never seen you like this. His fingers found your arm again, a gentle, almost desperate attempt to ground you, to ground both of you.

But the instant he touched you, you flinched away, spinning to face him with a look that made his heart feel as if it had shattered on impact. Your eyes were red-rimmed, and fresh tears shimmered there, but what undid him was the sheer intensity of your gaze. Anger, betrayal, and hurt mingling together into something he could hardly bear to look at.

“Baby—” he tried, his voice cracking as he spoke, but you cut him off, every word like a dagger.

“Don’t. Don’t you dare call me that.” Your voice wavered despite your anger, and the way it broke only mirrored the turmoil he felt. Lando’s confusion deepened, a tangle of emotions twisting inside him.

“What is going on?” he asked, voice thin with barely restrained panic. His mind raced, every possible explanation slipping out of reach, leaving only the dread settling deeper in his chest.

“I heard them, Lando. I heard them talk about us.” Your lips twisted, the disgust evident in your expression. “How crazy it is that we’ve been together for this long. How crazy it is that you actually kept up a bet,” you took a deep breath. “That a bet has been going on for over a year.”

A surge of cold washed over him as he realized what you were saying, the pit in his stomach opening wider as he saw the pieces fall into place in your mind. His eyes squeezed shut for a split second, regret flooding his face. How could he have been so careless?

“I can explain,” he said quickly, desperate to salvage the fragile remains of the trust he felt crumbling between you two. But the scoff you gave felt like another slap. He reached for you, voice trembling with emotion, “Y/N, please—”

You took a step back, wrapping your arms around yourself as if to shield from him. Your voice broke, anger and sorrow mingling together in a heartbreaking mix. “A bet, Lando? You’re dating me because of a bet?” Tears slipped down your cheeks, and you didn’t bother to brush them away, too devastated to care about holding yourself together.

“No, no, of course not!” He took a hesitant step forward, his hands raised slightly as though approaching something fragile.

“Why?” you choked, hurt radiating from every word. “Why did you let it go on so long? You could have just, had your fun and ended it. But now, after everything we’ve shared, after I’ve—” Your voice caught, and you angrily wiped at your cheeks. “I thought we had something real. I love you, Lando. And you…“

“I love you, too,” he whispered, almost to himself. The sight of you in such pain was unbearable. He gently pushed your suitcase aside, capturing your wrists, and brought your hands to his face, his thumbs brushing away the tears spilling from your eyes. “I love you, baby. Of course I do. God I love you so-.”

“You don’t love me,” you whispered, voice hollow, the spark that once defined your every smile and laugh extinguished. “If you did, you wouldn’t have kept this going. You wouldn’t have let me fall so deeply.”

“Please, it’s not what you think,” he pleaded, voice breaking, his heart pounding in his chest as he held you, praying you’d let him explain. “It was a stupid mistake, something I never took seriously. You have to believe me.”

For a fleeting moment, he saw hesitation in your eyes, a glimmer of hope. But it vanished as quickly as it came, replaced by steely resolve. You pulled your hands away from him, and the emptiness that filled the space between you left him frozen, helpless.

“You’re cruel, Lando. Cruel. And I never want to see you again.”

The weight of your words crushed him. He was drowning in the guilt and the sorrow, unable to breathe as he watched you bend to zip your suitcase, your movements quick and determined. Desperation took over, and he dropped to his knees, his hands pressing down on the suitcase to keep it closed.

“Please, please don’t go,” he gasped, his voice barely above a whisper as the tears fell freely down his cheeks. “Just let me explain, don’t walk away without letting me explain.”

A knock at the door interrupted, and both your heads snapped toward the sound. Your brother’s voice called your name softly, and Lando’s heart sank even further. Max stepped in, his expression darkening as he took in your tear-stained face and Lando’s distressed form on the floor. Instinctively, Max wrapped a protective arm around you, pulling you behind him as if to shield you from the man who had broken your heart.

“Please,” Lando whispered, his voice hoarse, but the words felt useless, meaningless in the wake of the devastation he’d caused. He felt paralyzed as Max picked up your suitcase, his gaze hard and unyielding, offering no sympathy as he guided you toward the door.

And then you were gone, the door clicking shut with a finality that echoed through the silent room, leaving Lando alone, his world collapsing around him. He stayed on the floor, staring blankly ahead, numb with the knowledge that he had lost you.

[theonottsbxtch]

THE PRINCESS AND THE DRIVER PT.2| MV1

an: ahh i'm really enjoying writing this dynamic, although this isn't set in the victorian era. i am a SUCKER for historial romance so this feels very similiar.

wc: 5.5k

part one

Two nights later, under the cover of darkness, the princess found herself slipping through the quiet halls of the palace again. She knew Lukas had warned her not to sneak out, but the pull to return to the track was stronger than the caution in her mind. She missed the feeling of freedom, the wind against her face, and—though she hadn’t admitted it to herself fully yet—Max’s easy company. The memory of the last race, of his smile, of the way she’d felt like a completely different person, made her restless.

She had to go back.

The stable yard was silent, the smell of hay and leather heavy in the air. The familiar path to the hidden exit was just ahead, tucked behind the horses’ stalls. Her heart raced with excitement, and she moved quickly, eager to feel that surge of adrenaline again.

But as she reached the spot, her steps faltered.

The small gap in the stable wall—her secret exit—was blocked. Heavy wooden planks had been nailed across the opening, crisscrossing over the stones, sealing it shut.

Her stomach dropped. She stared at it in disbelief, her pulse quickening for all the wrong reasons now. She hadn’t been gone long—only two days—but someone had found out. Someone had noticed.

No... not someone.

As if summoned by her very thoughts, she heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps behind her.

“Princess,” came a familiar, deep voice.

She turned slowly, her heart thudding painfully in her chest. The head of the royal guard, Commander Alfred, stood just a few feet away. His tall, imposing figure seemed to fill the space around them, his grey uniform stark against the soft, moonlit stable. His expression was calm, but there was a hardness in his eyes that made her stomach twist.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t try this again,” Alfred said, his voice low but firm.

Her mouth went dry. Her mind scrambled for something to say, an excuse, anything, but nothing came. Instead, she just stood there, frozen, caught like a child sneaking out past curfew. The thrill of the night evaporated, replaced by a cold dread settling into her bones.

“I’ve been keeping an eye on this exit for a few days now,” Alfred continued, stepping forward with measured, deliberate steps. “I saw you the other night. I didn’t say anything, hoping you wouldn’t make it a habit. But here you are.”

Her throat tightened. “I just... I needed some air,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Alfred studied her for a moment, his stern gaze softening ever so slightly. He let out a slow breath, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re a princess,” he said, his tone gentler now, but still unyielding. “The world outside these walls isn’t safe for you. There are risks you can’t see—people who would take advantage of you, who wouldn’t think twice about using your title against you. You can’t just... sneak out and pretend none of that matters.”

The weight of his words pressed down on her, heavier than her own guilt. She knew he was right. But that didn’t make it easier to swallow. All she had wanted was a few moments where she didn’t have to be the princess, where she could just be... herself. Not the heir, not the symbol of royal duty. Just a girl who liked racing karts and laughing with a stranger who didn’t know her name.

But now, even that small slice of freedom was being taken away.

“I’m sorry, Commander,” she murmured, her voice cracking slightly.

Alfred nodded once, his face unreadable. “Go back to your room, Your Highness,” he said, his tone final. “It’s late.”

She opened her mouth to protest, to say something, but the words stuck in her throat. There was no arguing with Alfred, not when he was right. Slowly, defeated, she turned and walked back toward the palace, her heart heavy with disappointment.

As she crossed the yard and disappeared into the dim halls of the palace, she felt the sting of tears building behind her eyes. She blinked them back, forcing herself to hold it together until she reached her room.

Once inside, the silence of her chambers was deafening. The weight of everything—the closed exit, Alfred’s disapproving words, the suffocating sense of responsibility—pressed down on her all at once.

She sank onto the edge of her bed, burying her face in her hands as the tears finally came.

She hadn’t realised just how much she needed that escape until it was taken away from her. The walls of the palace suddenly felt smaller, closing in on her, trapping her in a life she wasn’t sure she could keep living. The image of the boarded-up exit flashed in her mind, a cruel reminder that her freedom, however small, had been ripped away.

She curled up on her bed, pulling her knees to her chest as the sobs wracked through her. The palace, her family, the expectations—it all felt too heavy, too impossible to carry. She thought about Max, the thrill of the track, the brief joy she’d found in being someone else, and how, for a few short hours, it had made her feel alive again.

But now, that world seemed farther away than ever. Untouchable.

The tears kept coming, long after the moon had risen high in the sky. And when she finally stopped crying, the exhaustion weighed her down like a blanket, pulling her into a restless sleep.

For the next few days, she didn’t leave her room. She couldn’t bring herself to face anyone, not even Lukas, who she knew had done everything he could to protect her secret. She felt numb, lost in the overwhelming sense of disappointment that she couldn’t shake.

No one came to question her absence from meals or the usual royal duties. Maybe they thought she was unwell—sick with some quiet illness that kept her hidden away. In a way, she was.

Because now, more than ever, she felt like a prisoner in her own life.

Days had turned into a week, and she still hadn't left her room.

At first, her absence had gone unnoticed. It wasn’t uncommon for her to retreat after the long banquets, charity events, and royal meetings that often took up her time. The palace staff had simply assumed she was taking a break, maybe indulging in some much-needed rest.

But as the days dragged on, it became clear that something wasn’t right.

She barely ate. Meals delivered to her chambers sat untouched on the tray by her door. The curtains remained drawn tight, shutting out the warm autumn sunlight, and her once neat and orderly space had become a mess of discarded clothes and rumpled sheets. The sparkle that usually lit up her presence had dimmed, buried under a weight that no one could see but everyone felt.

Her ladies-in-waiting whispered among themselves, their voices low as they passed in the corridors. They traded worried glances, unsure of what to do. Should they call the Queen? Inform the King? She had never stayed hidden away like this before—not like this. Even when she needed space, she always re-emerged, ready to face her responsibilities. But now, the princess seemed... lost.

Her mother was the first to express concern openly.

One afternoon, as the palace staff hurried about preparing for a royal dinner, the Queen stopped one of her ladies-in-waiting in the hall. The Queen had always been poised and composed, but there was an unmistakable hint of worry in her sharp green eyes.

“How is she?” she asked, her voice tight, betraying more emotion than she intended.

The young woman fidgeted under the Queen’s gaze, lowering her head. “She’s been... resting, Your Majesty. But she hasn’t left her room in days. I don’t think she’s well.”

The Queen’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Has she spoken to anyone?”

“No, Your Majesty. She’s refused visitors.”

The Queen’s worry deepened. She had always been headstrong, independent. But this felt different. Something was wrong. And it wasn’t just the physical withdrawal—it was the silence. She had never shut herself off like this before, and the Queen couldn’t shake the sense that her daughter was sinking into something far deeper than exhaustion.

The next day the King himself stepped into her chambers, expecting to find his daughter reading or quietly working through whatever troubled her. But when he saw her lying on the bed, her back turned to the door, still wearing the same clothes from days ago, the sight struck him harder than he’d expected.

“Darling,” he said gently, stepping into the room.

She didn’t move. Didn’t acknowledge his presence.

The King’s brow furrowed. His daughter had always been the stronger one, the one who pushed through no matter the burden placed on her. But the stillness in the room, the absence of life in her usually vibrant eyes—it unsettled him.

He walked to her side, sitting down on the edge of her bed. For a long moment, he simply watched her, unsure of what to say. As King, he was used to fixing things, solving problems, and making decisions. But this... this felt like something he couldn’t fix with words or power.

“What’s wrong, my dear?” he asked softly. “Talk to me.”

She remained silent, her gaze fixed on the wall, eyes red-rimmed and empty. She didn’t trust herself to speak. If she opened her mouth, she was afraid she might fall apart completely, and that scared her more than anything.

The King sighed, reaching out to gently touch her hand. “You don’t have to do this alone, darling. Whatever it is, you can tell us. We’ll help.”

But she didn’t respond, her body tense under his touch. She didn’t know how to explain what she was feeling—the pressure, the emptiness, the suffocating weight of her title, her future, and everything in between. And the only escape she had found—the one place where she could breathe—had been taken from her.

The King remained by her side for a few more minutes, but eventually, he rose, his expression more worried than when he’d entered. He had hoped she would open up, give him some clue as to what was going on, but her silence spoke louder than any words could.

As he left the room, he quietly summoned Commander Alfred. The head of the royal guard appeared swiftly, his usual stoic expression in place. But even he couldn’t hide the concern that flickered in his eyes when the King spoke.

“Have you noticed anything unusual about the princess lately?” The King asked, his tone quiet but filled with authority.

Alfred’s jaw tightened. He knew precisely what was troubling her. He had been the one to stop her the night she tried to sneak out again. And though he had done his duty, he regretted the way it had crushed her. But now, standing before the King, he couldn’t very well admit he had allowed her escapades to go on unnoticed for so long.

“Your Majesty,” Alfred began carefully, “I believe the princess has been under a great deal of stress. It’s possible she’s... struggling with the weight of her responsibilities.”

The King frowned, frustration creeping into his expression. “We all have responsibilities, Alfred. But she has never shut down like this before. This is different.”

Alfred hesitated, his mind racing. Should he tell the King about the racing, about the brief moments of rebellion that had clearly meant so much to her? It wasn’t his place to reveal such things, especially when the princess had already been punished for it in her own way.

Instead, he simply nodded. “I will keep an eye on her, Your Majesty. But I believe she needs time.”

The King gave a short nod, though his unease was palpable. “Time. Yes. But not too much time. If this goes on any longer, we’ll have to intervene.”

That night the moon hung high in the sky, casting a soft glow over the palace grounds. Inside her room, the shadows loomed larger than life, stretching across the walls like silent sentinels. She lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, thoughts swirling like the dust motes dancing in the moonlight. She had tried to find solace in sleep, but each time she closed her eyes, her mind spiralled back to the karting track—the laughter, the thrill, the fleeting moments of freedom that now felt like a distant memory.

As the clock struck midnight, a soft creak broke the stillness of her room. She turned her head, heart racing. The door slowly opened, and Lukas slipped inside, his silhouette cutting through the darkness.

“Your Highness,” he whispered, urgency lacing his tone. “I know you’re awake.”

“What are you doing here?” she gasped, sitting up quickly. “You can’t be in here!”

Lukas held a finger to his lips, a mischievous grin breaking through the concern etched on his face. “Shhh! Just trust me. I need you to change. I brought something for you.”

He reached into the bag slung over his shoulder, pulling out a pair of dark jeans, a fitted black t-shirt, and a lightweight jacket. “You need to get out of here.”

Her heart pounded as she processed his words. “What? But Lukas, I can’t just—”

“Please, princess. You’ve been stuck in this room for too long. You need to breathe. Change quickly!” He urged, his tone more serious now.

Despite her hesitation, a flicker of hope ignited in her chest. She nodded, her resolve strengthening. “Alright,” she murmured, taking the clothes from him. “But you have to promise this is safe.”

“I promise,” he replied, his eyes gleaming with determination. “I’ll be right here.”

She hurried to the bathroom to change, her heart racing with anticipation and fear. The soft fabric felt foreign against her skin after days of wearing nothing but the same loungewear. She took a deep breath, catching her reflection in the mirror—her eyes still heavy with sleepless nights, but the spark of rebellion ignited within her once more.

When she emerged, Lukas was waiting, a grin on his face as he took in her new look. “You look ready for an adventure.”

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she breathed, feeling exhilarated yet terrified.

“Don’t worry. Just follow me.” He took her hand, leading her through the darkened corridors of the palace, down the stairs and into the depths of the guard quarters.

After what felt like an eternity of cautious footsteps and whispered exchanges, they reached a door that she had never noticed before. It was tucked away at the far end of the guard barracks, partially concealed by a thick tapestry.

Lukas turned to her, his expression serious. “This is a guard exit. It’ll take you out to the stables, but you need to move quickly. Once you’re outside, make your way to the track.”

Her heart raced at the thought of being outside the palace walls, free once again. “And you?”

“I’ll be keeping an eye on things from a distance. If you need anything, just call. But you have to promise me you’ll be careful. I can’t afford to let anyone know you’re gone.”

As he spoke, he reached into his bag and pulled out the helmet she had been gifted the last time she was at the track. “Here. Take this. It’s yours now.”

She stared at the helmet, a mixture of gratitude and exhilaration washing over her. “Thank you, Lukas. I can’t believe you’re doing this for me.”

He smiled softly, but there was an intensity in his gaze. “You deserve to feel free, princess. You deserve more than what this palace offers. Now go. Run.”

She stepped forward, her heart swelling with gratitude. “Thank you,” she whispered, pulling him into a tight hug. The embrace was warm and reassuring, a promise of friendship and loyalty in a world where she often felt so alone.

Lukas held her for a moment longer, then gently pulled away. “I’ll be right here, watching you,” he promised.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped back and nodded. The door creaked open, revealing the moonlit stables beyond. She could feel the cool night air beckoning her, the thrill of adventure coursing through her veins.

With a final glance back at Lukas, she stepped through the door and into the night. The world outside felt alive, electric with possibilities. She sprinted toward the stables, adrenaline surging as she imagined the karting track waiting for her, the laughter of her new friends echoing in her mind.

As she reached the edge of the stables, she turned to look back one last time, seeing Lukas standing by the door, watching her with a proud smile.

Then she turned and ran, feeling like she was breaking free for the first time in ages. The track awaited, and with it, the promise of freedom.

Her heart raced as she sprinted down the familiar path leading to the karting track. The thrill of freedom surged through her with each stride, the cool night air whipping around her. She had longed for this moment, to feel the exhilaration of the track beneath her feet, the adrenaline that coursed through her veins as she raced.

But as she burst through the gates, her excitement faltered. The track felt eerily quiet, devoid of the laughter and energy that had once filled the air. The karts sat silently in their spots, the pit area dark and still, the bleachers looming like forgotten memories. Disappointment washed over her as she realised she might have come back to an empty space, a place that had felt so alive just days ago.

“Pity” she muttered, her voice echoing into the void.

Feeling the weight of solitude, she hesitated at the edge of the track. She had envisioned this moment—the thrill of the race, the rush of speed—but now it felt as though the universe had conspired to leave her alone once again.

Just as she turned to leave, something caught her eye. A figure sat cross-legged on the ground near the barrier, partially obscured by shadows. Curiosity piqued, she squinted, and her heart leapt when she recognized the silhouette.

“Max?” she called, the name tumbling from her lips as a rush of hope surged within her.

He looked up, surprise washing over his face, and in an instant, he stood up, a wide smile spreading across his features. “Angel!” he exclaimed, his voice a mix of excitement and disbelief.

Without thinking, she rushed toward him, her heart pounding in rhythm with her footsteps. The distance between them vanished in an instant as she barreled into him, relief and joy overwhelming her senses.

Max caught her in a warm embrace, and the world around them faded. “I can’t believe you came back! I thought maybe you weren’t going to,” he said, his voice warm and sincere as he held her tight.

“I missed it too much,” she admitted, pulling back to look into his eyes. “And I missed you.”

He stepped back slightly, his gaze searching hers, and there was a moment of stillness between them. The excitement of their connection lingered in the air, an unspoken understanding that made her heart flutter.

“I was here the whole time, waiting for you to show up again,” he said, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “You really know how to make an entrance.”

She laughed, feeling lighter than she had in days. “I almost didn’t make it. I was worried I’d be the only one here.”

Max shook his head, chuckling. “Nah, I couldn’t stay away either. This place is too good to abandon. Plus, I was hoping you’d come back. I wanted to see how you were doing after our last race.”

“I’ve been thinking about it a lot,” she replied, her heart swelling at the thought of their last adventure together. “It was one of the best nights of my life.”

“Same here,” he said, his expression softening. “It felt real, you know? Just us, no pressures, no expectations. I’ve missed having that, it’s been a long time.”

She felt her cheeks warm at his words. “I’ve missed that too. It’s hard to explain why. Everything in my life feels… complicated.”

He nodded, understanding glimmering in his eyes. “I get it. Sometimes you just want to escape from everything. That’s why I love coming here. It’s my little slice of freedom. I came here once a year with my mother and I come back each year.”

“It feels like no one cares who you are or what you’re supposed to be here.”

Max stepped back, his eyes playful. “So, you ready for another round? I’ve been practising, and I’m pretty sure I can beat you this time.”

“Is that a challenge?” she teased, feeling her competitive spirit ignite.

“Absolutely,” he replied, his smile wide. “But you’d better keep up.”

As they walked toward the karts, she couldn’t shake the feeling of exhilaration that buzzed through her. The emptiness she had felt moments ago faded, replaced by the warmth of their connection. Here, with Max, she was just a girl—not a princess, not a royal burdened by expectations.

They reached the karts, and Max gestured for her to take the lead. “You go first. I’ll watch you and see if I can learn a thing or two.”

Shr grinned, her nerves dissipating as she settled into the familiar seat of the kart. “Okay, but don’t blame me if I leave you in the dust!”

As she tightened the helmet over her head, Max’s laughter filled the air, and for the first time in what felt like ages, she felt free. The night stretched ahead of them, full of possibilities, and with a deep breath, she fired up the engine.

The engines fell silent as she and Max brought their karts to a stop, both panting from the thrill of the race. The air was thick with the scent of gasoline and the excitement that still hummed between them. As they climbed out of their karts, a shared laughter lingered in the air, buoyed by the adrenaline that coursed through their veins.

Max leaned against his kart, catching his breath, his eyes sparkling with exhilaration. “You really held your own out there,” he said, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “I thought I was going to lose for a moment.”

She smiled back, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. “Well, don’t get too used to it. I’ll get better every time,” she replied playfully, wiping the sweat from her brow.

But as their laughter faded, the atmosphere shifted. The thrill of competition transformed into something deeper. Max’s gaze lingered on her, his expression softening as the playful banter shifted into a moment filled with unspoken understanding. They stepped closer, the warmth between them drawing them together, filling the space with a tension that felt electric.

Max brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering on her cheek, and her breath hitched in her throat. In that moment, the world around them faded away—the empty track, the quiet night—everything became a distant blur. The only thing that mattered was the connection they shared, the desire that surged like wildfire between them.

“Schjate,” Max said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve been thinking about you.”

Her heart raced at his words, and she felt a rush of emotions bubbling to the surface. “Me too,” she admitted, her voice trembling slightly. “I couldn’t stop thinking about our last race.”

As their eyes locked, the air around them crackled with intensity. Without thinking, they moved closer together, their breaths mingling as Max leaned in, capturing her lips with his in a kiss that ignited the night.

It started softly, a gentle brush of lips that deepened as the world melted away around them. Her heart soared as she kissed him back, savouring the sweetness of the moment. His hands found her waist, pulling her closer, as if he were afraid she might slip away. She melted against him, losing herself in the warmth of his embrace.

Their kiss was filled with a mix of exhilaration and longing, each moment stretching into eternity. Time seemed to pause as they lost themselves in each other, the warmth of his body grounding her in a way she had never experienced before. Every doubt, every fear faded into the background, leaving only the two of them in that electrifying moment.

But as they finally broke apart, a rush of reality crashed down on her. She stepped back, her heart racing, panic rising in her chest. “I shouldn’t have done that,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Why?” Max asked, confusion clouding his eyes as he searched her face. “It felt right, didn’t it?”

She turned away, trying to catch her breath as her thoughts raced. “I can’t offer you anything,” she admitted, the weight of the words heavy on her tongue.

“Why not?” he pressed, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. “What do you mean?”

“Because I can’t just… be with you like this,” she said, her chest tightening. “It’s complicated.”

His brow furrowed as he stepped closer, determination shining in his eyes. “What’s complicated about it? It’s just us here.”

“No, it’s not just us!” She exclaimed, her voice rising. “You don’t understand what I’m giving up.”

“What are you giving up?” he asked, his voice laced with hurt. “What do you think this is? I’m not just some guy to you.”

“No, you’re not,” she replied, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “But I can’t pretend that this is simple. I have responsibilities—things I can’t just ignore.”

Max’s expression shifted, disbelief etched on his face. “Responsibilities? What does that even mean?”

“It means I’m the princess of this country!” she blurted out, her heart racing as she revealed the truth she had kept hidden.

Silence fell between them, the weight of her confession hanging in the air. Max’s eyes widened, shock replacing the warmth that had just been there. “Wait… what?”

“I have a life I can’t escape from,” she said, her voice trembling. “I can’t be with someone when everything I do has consequences.”

Max took a step back, the hurt in his eyes cutting deeper than any blade. “So that’s it? You’re just going to run away because of some title?”

“No!” she cried, tears threatening to spill over. “I wish it were that easy. But I can’t risk everything for something that might not even be real!”

The tension crackled between them, pain and frustration hanging thick in the air. He shook his head, disbelief etched on his features. “So what that kiss was fake? An act of pity?”

“I don’t know what that was,” she admitted, her heart aching. “But I can’t let myself get lost in it. I have too much at stake.”

Max’s expression softened for a moment, but the hurt lingered. “And what if this is your chance to find something real?”

“I can’t take that chance!” she replied, her voice breaking. “I’m sorry, Max.”

With that, she watched as he turned away, the distance between them feeling insurmountable. Her heart shattered as she took in the sight of him walking away, the warmth of their moment fading into the night. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she realised the weight of her choice, the finality of what she had just done.

“Max,” she whispered, but the words were lost in the night.

As he disappeared into the shadows, she felt an unbearable ache in her chest, the reality of her world crashing down on her like a tidal wave. She turned away, her heart heavy, and made her way back to the palace, each step feeling like a loss.

The thrill of racing, the taste of freedom, and the warmth of connection had been swept away, leaving only a hollow ache where joy once resided. As she walked through the familiar halls of the palace, the burden of her title felt heavier than ever, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that she had lost something precious.

As she made her way back to the palace, the cool night air felt sharp against her skin, mirroring the ache in her chest. Each step felt heavier than the last, the thrill of her escape now replaced by a deep sense of loss. The weight of her reality bore down on her, and she could hardly breathe as tears streamed down her cheeks, each drop a cruel reminder of what had just happened.

The familiar silhouette of the palace loomed ahead, its grand façade illuminated softly in the moonlight. It had always felt like a sanctuary, but tonight it felt more like a prison, trapping her within its walls of expectation and duty. She quickened her pace, desperate to escape the memories of her time with Max, yet somehow knowing that they would haunt her no matter where she went.

As she approached the entrance, she spotted Lukas standing near the guard post, his usual stoic demeanour replaced by an expression of concern. The moment he saw her, his brow furrowed, and he stepped forward, instinctively sensing that something was terribly wrong.

“Princess?” he called, his voice low but urgent. “What happened? You look—”

Before he could finish, she crumpled, the weight of her emotions crashing over her like a wave. Without a word, she rushed into his arms, burying her face against his chest as sobs wracked her body. The warmth of his embrace felt like a lifeline, and she clung to him, desperately seeking solace.

Lukas stiffened for a moment, clearly taken aback, but then his arms encircled her, holding her close as she cried. “Princess, what’s wrong?” he murmured, his voice soothing as he stroked her hair gently. “Talk to me.”

She pulled back slightly, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears as she looked up at him. “I—I can’t,” she stammered, struggling to catch her breath. “I messed everything up, Lukas.”

“Take your time,” he encouraged, his voice steady and calming. “Just breathe. You’re safe here.”

With a shuddering breath, she began to pour out the words that had been trapped inside her, the turmoil spilling forth like a dam breaking. “I went back to the track, and I saw Max,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “We raced again, and it was incredible. I felt so free, so alive. But then… we kissed, and it was everything I wanted, but I can’t have it. I can’t be with him.”

Lukas’s expression softened, and he held her tighter as she continued. “He thinks it’s real, but I can’t offer him anything, not with who I am. I’m a princess, and I have responsibilities. I can’t just run away and live a normal life.”

Lukas remained silent for a moment, absorbing her words. “Princess,” he finally said, his voice low and earnest, “you deserve to be happy. It’s okay to want something for yourself.”

“But what I want isn’t an option,” she replied, shaking her head, her tears still flowing. “I can’t put him in danger because of my title. I can’t risk my responsibilities for a fleeting moment of happiness. It’s not fair to him.”

“I understand that it feels complicated,” Lukas said, his tone gentle yet firm, “but you can’t sacrifice your own happiness for the sake of your duty. You deserve to feel loved and to have someone who cares about you.”

“I know,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “But it’s all too much. I thought I could be someone else, even just for a little while, but I can’t escape who I am.”

He pulled back slightly to look into her eyes, his expression earnest. “Princess, running away from your responsibilities won’t change who you are, but it doesn’t mean you can’t find moments of joy. You have the right to seek happiness, even in a world that tries to dictate how you should live.”

She met his gaze, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. “But what if it all falls apart? What if I lose everything?”

“You won’t lose everything,” he reassured her, his grip tightening around her shoulders. “You have to take risks sometimes. You won’t know what could happen unless you allow yourself to find out.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, and for the first time that night, she felt a flicker of hope ignite within her, a small voice whispering that maybe there was a way to reconcile her desires with her duties.

“But what if I mess it up again?” she asked, her voice still shaky.

“Then you try again,” Lukas replied softly, a small smile breaking through the concern etched on his face. “You’re not alone in this. I’ll be here to help you navigate it. You can’t let fear dictate your life.”

As she looked into his eyes, she felt the bond of their years deepen. He had always been there, her steadfast protector, and tonight he was more than just a guard—he was a confidant.

“Thank you, Lukas,” she whispered, gratitude swelling in her heart. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” he assured her, his tone lightening. “Now, let’s get you inside before anyone else sees you like this. You deserve a moment to breathe, away from everything.”

[verstappensrealwife]

Casual (Part 1 of 2) - Lando Norris x Reader

smut, angst

approx. 1,600 words

warnings: lando=ENEMY #1, brief MV1 x reader right at the end, smut(oral fem!recieve), fwb except they’re barely friends…

lando norris masterlist - here. max verstappen masterlist - here. f1 master list - here.

PART 2 HERE

My friends call me a loser 'Cause I'm still hanging around I've heard so many rumors That I'm just a girl that you bang on your couch I thought you thought of me better Someone you couldn't lose You said, "We're not together" So now when we kiss, I have anger issues

Your friends had warned you about him, their voices laced with concern and frustration. They saw what you couldn't—or perhaps refused to see. What did they know? Clearly more than you…

You always went back to Lando Norris. Each time, you convinced yourself that this time would be different. That he'd finally see you the way you saw him. But every encounter ended the same: the dreaded "We're not together… it's only casual," followed by a kiss so passionate it blurred the lines between love and pain.

It made you furious, the way he toyed with your heart, dangling hope just out of reach. Yet, against your better judgment, you returned to him, surrendering to the illusion of affection. Each kiss, each touch, was a cruel reminder of what could never be. The cycle was a slow burn, eroding your self-worth with every fleeting moment of his attention.

In the quiet of your room, the weight of his words crushed you, leaving behind an ache that no kiss could ever heal. And still, you’d find yourself going back, lost in the hope that one day, maybe, he’d change his mind. But deep down, a part of you knew: some things, some people, never change.

You said, "Baby, no attachment" But we're Knee deep in the passenger seat and you're eating me out Is it casual now? Two weeks and your mom invites me to her house on Long Beach Is it casual now? I know what you tell your friends It's casual, if it's casual now Then baby, get me off again If it's casual, it's casual now

You’d met his parents, shared laughter around their dinner table, and walked through the rooms of their family home. Those moments had felt like glimpses into a future you yearned for, yet he never craved you in the way you did for him. The warmth of their acceptance was a cruel contrast to the cold reality of his indifference.

Now, in the cramped footwell of your car, parked in a dingy, deserted lot, he was devouring you with a fervor that belied his emotional detachment. His tongue flickered and vibrated against your clit, his moans echoing in the confined space. The raw pleasure was a stark contrast to the sterile, unfeeling nature of your relationship.

“Fuck, fuck! Lando, you're so good at this—” you gasped, your body arching in response to his skillful movements. “I’m all yours,” you breathed, the words slipping out as a desperate plea for a connection that went beyond the physical.

After you’d finished, the euphoria fading, he climbed out of the compressed space on your car floor. The air between you felt heavy with unspoken truths. He didn't say much, just the bare minimum, as if to avoid breaking the fragile illusion you clung to.

“I’ll get an Uber,” he mumbled, his phone already in hand, the app open. It stung—he hadn’t even planned to stay.

You hummed quietly, a sound barely louder than a sigh, and he hopped out of the car, giving you a tight-lipped smile that felt more like an apology than a goodbye. The door shut with a finality that echoed in the silence. You huffed gently, the weight of disappointment pressing on your chest, and turned the keys, the engine roaring to life as you drove away, the emptiness in the passenger seat a stark reminder of his absence.

Dumb love, I love being stupid Dream of us in a year Maybe we'd have an apartment And you'd show me off to your friends at the pier

You often found yourself lost in thoughts of a different future, imagining a day where he loved you openly, where you weren't a secret kept from the public eye. In these dreams, he didn't rush you out of his apartment after a night spent together; instead, he held you close in the morning light, his embrace lingering with a sense of permanence.

You envisioned a future where you might move in together, sharing a space that was yours as much as his. In your mind's eye, you saw him introducing you to his friends proudly, not as an awkward afterthought. You imagined gatherings where you were welcomed, not just tolerated because you'd been accidentally caught post-intimacy in his driver’s room.

The reality, though, was a stark contrast. Max and Carlos had stumbled upon you once, the awkwardness palpable, and since then, any potential friendships had withered before they could begin. You never really met Max or Carlos after that, except for those few, brief encounters in stores, where you'd exchange polite smiles and hurried conversations, pretending the memories didn’t hang heavy in the air.

I know what you tell your friends It's casual, if it's casual now

After that incident, Lando had—of course—kicked you straight out of the room, leaving you to wander the paddock alone. The sense of isolation was crushing, each step echoing the emptiness you felt inside. As you scurried away, you couldn’t help but overhear his conversation with Max and Carlos. Their voices carried through the air, each word a dagger to your already wounded heart.

You caught a glimpse of their faces as you slipped past them, their expressions a mix of pity and discomfort. The look in their eyes only deepened your humiliation.

“It’s just casual,” Lando's voice was dismissive, almost careless. “I don’t like her like that… she’s just a good time, I guess.”

The words hung in the air, each one a brutal confirmation of your worst fears. You felt a sting of tears welling up but forced them back, swallowing the lump in your throat. The pain of his indifference was almost unbearable, a stark reminder of the chasm between your feelings and his.

It's hard being casual When my favorite bra lives in your dresser It's hard being casual When I'm on the phone talking down your sister

He’d insisted you leave clothes at his house, especially your underwear—the ones he liked on you. Sometimes, he would insist you put them on for him when you were at his place. In those moments, it made you feel special, as if leaving a part of yourself behind in his space meant something significant. Maybe it meant nothing...

You grew close with his sisters, exchanging likes on social media posts and sending each other TikToks you thought the other would enjoy. It was a small but cherished connection that made you feel more integrated into his life.

One evening, during a video call with his sister, she hesitated before asking, "Are you and Lando official?" Her eyes held a softness, a knowing look that seemed to carry the weight of unspoken truths.

Before you could respond, Lando snatched the phone from his sister’s hand, abruptly ending the call. Her expression lingered in your mind—an empathetic sadness that hinted at her understanding of your unreciprocated feelings. You sat in your apartment, staring at the blank homescreen, the silence around you suddenly overwhelming. The quiet was filled with the echoes of all the things left unsaid, the unacknowledged reality of your relationship with Lando.

And I try to be the chill girl that Holds her tongue and gives you space I try to be the chill girl but Honestly, I'm not I know what you tell your friends Baby, get me off again

That night, Lando messaged you, saying he needed space. The words stung, but you left him on read. Minutes later, another text came through, asking if you got his last message. All you replied with was, "Yes."

A few days passed in a haze of silence and self-doubt. Then, his name popped up on your phone again, asking to take you out. The pattern was all too familiar. You knew how it would end: not with a romantic evening, but with you in his apartment, the same empty routine of physical intimacy followed by a lonely departure at dawn.

Despite everything, you would’ve said yes again and again, caught in the cycle of hope and heartache. But this time, as you were about to respond, a new notification appeared at the top of the screen.

“Maxverstappen1 has requested to follow you.” “Maxverstappen1 has requested to message you.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Max, with his quiet confidence and genuine smiles, was a stark contrast to Lando’s fleeting attentions. You thought back to the brief conversations in stores, the way Max's eyes seemed to hold a depth of understanding, a kindness that Lando never showed. He had always treated you with respect, even in those short interactions, and now he was reaching out.

Curiosity and a spark of something you hadn’t felt in a long time—hope—bubbled up inside you. You hesitated for only a moment before accepting his follow request and opening his message.

“Hey, I hope you’re doing well. I was wondering if you’d like to grab a coffee sometime?”

The simplicity and sincerity of his message were refreshing. Max wasn’t playing games; he wasn’t hiding you or keeping you at arm’s length. As you read his words, you realized how much you craved that kind of straightforward, genuine connection.

In that moment, you knew you’d rather be with someone like Max—someone who saw you as more than just a fleeting distraction. You typed out a response, feeling a sense of anticipation and relief wash over you.

“Hi Max, I’d love to. When are you free?”

--

did you love it did you love it did you love it should i make a part 2 for max did you love it hello???

[pucksandpower]

Another Man’s Treasure

Max Verstappen x Reader + Charles Leclerc x ex!Reader

Summary: Charles made the worst mistake of his life when he threw away his relationship with you. Max … well he’s learned to take advantage of others’ mistakes both on and off the track

Warnings: cheating (not the main pairing) and pregnancy

“Please, Charles, why can’t we just talk about it?” you implore, the two of you standing on the balcony overlooking the glimmering lights of Monaco. The city shines brilliantly but your eyes are clouded with frustration and disappointment.

Charles exhales deeply, his jaw clenched as he avoids your gaze. The silver lining of the night —the glimmer of stars overhead — contrasts sharply with the tension between you two. “I told you already, it’s not the right time.

You take a shaky breath, trying to hold back tears. “Every time I bring up having children, you just push it away. Why can’t you see how much this means to me?”

Charles runs his fingers through his dark hair, exhaling slowly. “Look, it’s not that I don’t want to have a family with you someday,” he begins, his gaze distant. “But right now, with my career at its peak, I can’t risk distractions.”

“Distractions?” Your voice breaks, the hurt evident in your tone. “Our children would be a distraction?”

He flinches, clearly not expecting that response. “That’s not what I meant. I just … I need to focus on the championship. The pressure is immense. Racing is my life. Ferrari is my life.”

“I understand your dedication to your career, but ...” You pause, your gaze searching his. “Don’t you think we can find a balance? Am I not part of your life too?”

He looks at you, those hypnotizing eyes you’ve always loved flinching away from yours after no more than a second. “I wish I knew how,” he murmurs. “But every time I think of the late nights, the early mornings, the endless travels ... I’m afraid I won’t be there for our children.”

You reach out, holding his face in your hands. “We can figure it out together. But not if you keep shutting me out.”

Charles leans into your touch for a brief moment, his warmth radiating under your fingers. But then he pulls away, taking a deep breath. “I just need time,” he whispers.

“You always say that,” you reply, voice almost inaudible. The weight of the situation presses down on you both. The future, once so clear and bright, is now clouded in uncertainty.

But one thing is clear to you. You love Charles Leclerc. Despite the pain, the hurt, and the disagreements, you still believe that one day, you’ll both find common ground. So, you nod, taking his hand. “Alright, I’ll give you time. But please, don’t take too long.”

He looks at you with a mixture of gratitude and guilt. “Thank you,” he says, his voice thick with emotion.

But deep inside, a gnawing feeling of dread starts to grow, leaving you wondering if you’ve made the right choice.

***

The soft hum of the espresso machine at your favorite café in Monaco is the only thing that brings comfort these days. You take a deep breath, trying to enjoy the momentary solace as you sip on your coffee. But today, the calm is quickly disrupted by the muted buzz of your phone.

An unknown number flashes across the screen. Hesitating for only a moment, you decide to pick up. “Hello?”

A hesitant voice responds, “Is this ... is this you? I’ve seen you with Charles.”

Confused and on guard, you ask, “Who is this?”

The voice falters, “It’s Elise.”

You wrack your brain, trying to figure out who she might be. But before you can respond, Elise continues, “I think we need to meet. There’s something you should know.”

Agreeing to meet up, you find yourself waiting at the edge of the Fontvieille Park, the minutes feeling like hours as you try to decipher what could be so important.

Elise finally arrives, her demeanor nervous, eyes darting around. She’s visibly pregnant.

“I didn’t know how to tell you this,” she begins, looking down at her swollen belly, then up to your eyes, searching for understanding. “This is Charles’ child.”

The world seems to spin, the weight of her words pressing down on you. “What? How? Why?” The questions blur together, each one as painful as the last.

Elise sighs, taking a moment before she speaks, “We’ve been seeing each other for a while. I thought he loved me ... but then I found out about you.”

You’re at a loss for words, feeling a mix of betrayal, anger, and pain more complex than you can describe. The very foundation of your relationship with Charles feels like it’s crumbling beneath you. “He said he wasn’t ready for children,” you whisper, more to yourself than to Elise.

Elise looks genuinely pained. “I didn’t know. If I had, I would’ve never—” she stops herself, tears forming. “I’m so sorry. I thought you deserved to know the truth.”

The rest of the conversation is a blur. Elise shares her story, and you listen, trying to reconcile this new reality. The Charles she describes isn’t the man you thought you knew.

By the time you part ways, the Monaco sunset paints the sky in shades of gold and purple. But its beauty does little to lift the darkness that has settled over your heart. Charles had been unfaithful, and now a child — a constant reminder of his betrayal — was on the way.

***

With every step you take towards the apartment you share with Charles, your emotions churn and crash like tumultuous waves. You have practiced the confrontation in your mind countless times, yet as you reach the door, your hands tremble. Taking a moment to gather your courage, you push it open.

Inside, Charles looks up from the couch, surprised. “Hey, I wasn’t expecting you back so soon,” he starts, attempting a smile but his eyes give away a hint of nervousness. Perhaps he senses the storm brewing.

“We need to talk,” you say, your voice firm despite the turmoil inside.

Charles swallows hard, pushing himself up to stand. “About?”

“Elise,” you state simply, watching as his face pales.

He hesitates, and for a moment, you hope for an ounce of remorse, a hint of regret. But when he speaks, his words are cold and detached. “How did you find out?”

“Does it matter?” You shoot back, trying to hold back tears. “Is it true?”

Charles avoids your gaze, running a hand through his hair. “Yes,” he finally admits.

“And the baby? Is it yours?”

Again, he hesitates but then nods. “Yes.”

The weight of the revelation feels like a physical blow, and you stagger back slightly, gripping the back of a chair for support. “All those times … when you said you weren’t ready, that it wasn’t the right time …” Your voice cracks, pain and betrayal evident in every word.

Charles finally meets your gaze but there’s no warmth, no apology in his eyes. “I didn’t plan this,” he says but it’s not a justification, merely a statement.

“That’s supposed to make it better?” you scoff, voice rising in disbelief.

He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck, a gesture you recognize as one of discomfort. “I never wanted to hurt you. But things just ... happened.”

“You think that justifies anything? Things just happened?” You shake your head in disbelief. “I gave up so much for us, Charles. I moved away from everything and everyone I knew to be with you. And you threw it all away like it’s nothing.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs but his apology feels hollow. His eyes betray the truth.

The room is thick with tension and heartbreak. The man you loved, the life you envisioned — both seem like illusions now. You didn’t even know if they were ever real.

“You know what?” You say, a new determination rising within. “I deserve better. I deserve someone who truly values and respects me.” With that, you turn, making your way to the bedroom to pack a few essentials.

Charles doesn’t stop you. And that, more than anything, cements the truth. Your future lies elsewhere. The chapter with Charles is closed.

***

Rain begins to drizzle over Monaco, each droplet reflecting the city’s luminescence. With a bag slung over your shoulder and a broken heart, you wander aimlessly. The streets that once felt like home now seem foreign and cold.

As the rain intensifies, you duck under an awning, the gentle hum of a nearby bar providing a temporary reprieve. You’re lost in thought when a familiar voice breaks through, “Is everything okay? You look a bit ... lost.”

You look up, surprised to find Max Verstappen looking genuinely concerned. His bright blue eyes study your face, searching for an answer.

“Max ...” Your voice trails off, unsure of how much to reveal.

He gestures to the bar beside you. “Want to come in? We can talk or not. Up to you.”

Gratefully, you nod, and the two of you find a quiet corner. The dim lighting offers a cocoon of privacy, away from prying eyes.

Over a glass of wine, words start to tumble out. The betrayal, the heartbreak, the uncertainty of the future. Max listens intently, his gaze never leaving yours. His silence offers a comforting presence, allowing you to unburden your heavy heart.

“I can’t believe Charles would do that to you,” Max says after you finish your story, his voice laced with anger. “You deserve so much better.”

A tear slips down your cheek. “I thought we had something special. But I guess I was just naive. And stupid. So stupid.”

Max reaches out, gently wiping away the tear with his thumb. “No. He was the fool for not seeing what a treasure he had.”

The evening wears on and you find solace in Max’s company. The conversation shifts from heartbreak to hopes and dreams. He opens up about his childhood, the pressures of racing, and his aspirations for a family — one where he could offer his children a better upbringing than he had.

The connection between you two grows, the raw vulnerability drawing you closer than you could have ever anticipated over just a few hours.

“It’s getting late,” Max observes, glancing at his watch. “Do you have a place to stay tonight?”

You hesitate, realizing you hadn’t thought that far ahead. “I ... I hadn’t planned anything.”

Max looks thoughtful for a moment then says, “I have a penthouse not far from here. You’re more than welcome to stay. No expectations, just a place to rest.”

Gratitude swells within you. “Thank you, Max. I really appreciate that.”

The two of you leave the bar together, the rain now a soft drizzle. As you make your way to his place, the weight of the day begins to lift, replaced by an unexpected feeling of hope. You couldn’t have predicted this turn of events but perhaps, just maybe, the universe has a plan for you.

***

The penthouse apartment is a sanctuary, perched high above the city’s twinkling lights. The soft glow of lamps bathes the room in warmth, contrasting with the coolness of the floor-to-ceiling glass windows that offer an unobstructed view of Monaco’s beauty.

Max hands you a plush robe and gestures toward the bathroom. “Feel free to freshen up. I’ll make us some tea.”

You nod, grateful for his understanding and hospitality. The hot shower washes away the day’s troubles, and when you emerge, wrapped in the robe, you find Max in the sleek kitchen area, preparing mugs of tea.

“Here you go,” he says, handing you a steaming cup. “Chamomile. Good for relaxation.”

You take a sip, the warm liquid soothing your frayed nerves. “Thank you, Max. For everything. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you tonight.”

He smiles gently, his eyes meeting yours. “Sometimes, unexpected moments bring people together for a reason.”

The two of you settle onto a surprisingly comfortable leather couch, gazing out at the night sky. Silence envelops you but it’s a comfortable one.

“You know, I never expected to connect with someone like this,” Max says, his voice soft. “Especially not after what you’ve been through.”

You look at him, seeing a depth of sincerity that surprises you. “It’s been a strange and difficult day,” you admit. “But talking to you, it feels like a weight has been lifted.”

Max’s gaze holds yours, and for a moment, it feels like the universe has conspired to bring you to this very place, to this very person.

He takes a deep breath. “I’ve always wanted a big family. A loving home, something I didn’t really have growing up. I want to give my kids the stability and happiness I never had.”

Tears well up in your eyes, touched by his vulnerability and his willingness to share his dreams with you. “That’s a beautiful aspiration.”

He shifts closer, a comforting hand on your shoulder. “And what about you? What do you dream of?”

You lean back, contemplating the question. “I dream of a family too, a partner who’s truly invested, children who grow up knowing they’re loved and supported.”

Max's fingers brush against yours, a gentle touch that sends a shiver down your spine. “You deserve that. You deserve to find happiness.”

As the night deepens, the emotional intimacy between you grows. There’s an unspoken understanding, a shared connection, and for the first time in a long while, you feel a glimmer of hope for the future. The chapter with Charles might be closed, but perhaps, with Max, you can start to write a new one — one filled with shared dreams and the promise of a brighter tomorrow.

***

The morning sun casts a golden glow over Monaco as it begins its ascent into the azure sky. You wake up, wrapped in the softest sheets you’ve ever felt, with memories of last night’s conversation playing on a loop in your mind.

Exiting the bedroom, you find Max in the open-plan kitchen, whipping up a breakfast spread. “Good morning,” he greets with a warm smile. “I hope you’re hungry.”

As you eat, Max discusses his plans for the day, mentioning an upcoming summer break in the F1 calendar. “A few friends and I have organized a yacht trip during the summer shutdown. It’s a tradition,” he explains. “A way to escape and recharge.”

You nod, picturing the glittering sea and warm beaches. “That sounds wonderful.”

He hesitates for a moment, then, as if taking a leap, says, “Why don’t you join us? It could be a good distraction. Get away from all this ... chaos.”

The offer catches you by surprise. The prospect of a holiday is tempting, especially after the emotional whirlwind of the past few days. Plus, the idea of spending more time with Max, getting to know him outside the confines of Monaco, is equally appealing.

After a moment’s contemplation, you reply, “You know what? I think I will. Thank you so much.”

The days leading up to the trip are a blur, filled with shopping for swimsuits and sundresses and a growing sense of anticipation.

When the day finally arrives, you find yourself aboard a lavish yacht, surrounded by Max’s close friends. Laughter and conversations flow easily, the crystal-clear waters providing the perfect backdrop.

As the yacht sets sail, you and Max find a secluded spot on the deck. He wraps an arm around you, pulling you close. The two of you talk, laugh, and occasionally, just sit in silence, enjoying the tranquillity of the moment.

During a sun-soaked afternoon, Max teaches you how to steer the yacht. Your fingers brush against each other, and there are shared glances, stolen moments, and an electric charge between you that’s impossible to ignore.

Each day deepens the growing bond between you. There are sunrises watched from the deck, dinners under the stars, and long conversations that last into the early hours of the morning.

One night, as the yacht anchors near a secluded cove, Max takes your hand, leading you to a quiet spot. The moonlight dances on the water, creating a magical atmosphere.

“You know,” he begins, his voice soft, “this trip has been special. Not because of the destinations but because of the company.”

You smile, leaning into him. “I couldn’t agree more.”

A tender moment passes between you, one filled with promise and the potential for something more. The yacht trip might be coming to an end but both of you sense that this journey, this new chapter in your lives, has only just begun.

***

The gentle lull of the waves against the yacht rocks you as the moon hangs low in the sky. The night air is warm and fragrant, carrying with it a sense of peace. Tomorrow, the yacht will dock back in Monaco and reality will catch up with you once more. But for now, you’re content to savor these final moments of the trip.

You find Max leaning against the railing, gazing out at the sea. As you approach him, he turns, his expression softening into a smile. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you reply, standing beside him, your shoulders brushing against each other.

“I can’t believe the break is almost over,” Max muses, his voice carrying a hint of wistfulness.

You nod in agreement, casting your gaze out to the horizon. “It still feels like a dream.”

Max glances at you, his eyes holding a certain intensity. “You know, I’ve had an amazing time with you.”

A flutter of warmth ignites in your chest at his words. “Me too. The best time.”

The moment is charged with unspoken feelings, the connection between you growing stronger with each passing day. Max’s fingers brush against yours and the touch sends a shiver down your spine.

“I don’t want this to end,” he confesses, gaze never leaving yours.

You take a deep breath, your heart racing. “I’ve never felt so connected to someone, so understood.”

He cups your cheek with his hand, his touch tender and affectionate. “I feel the same way. And I don’t want this to end.”

The tension in the air is palpable, heavy with anticipation and longing. And then, as if drawn by an invisible force, your lips meet in a soft, tentative kiss. It’s a kiss filled with all the emotions that have been building between you, a kiss that bridges the gap between friendship and something more.

As the kiss deepens, Max’s arms wrap around you, pulling you closer. The world around you fades away, leaving only the two of you under the moonlit sky.

When you finally pull apart, your foreheads rest against each other, your breaths mingling. Max’s voice is a gentle murmur against your lips. “I don’t want to rush anything. But I also don’t want to pretend that this connection we have isn’t real.”

You meet his gaze, your eyes reflecting the same sincerity. “I don’t want to pretend either. Max, I want to give this — give us — a chance.”

A genuine smile graces Max’s lips and he kisses your forehead in reassurance. “Then let’s take it one step at a time.”

***

“Where to now?” Max asks, his hand lightly touching your arm as the yacht crew busies themselves with docking procedures.

You hesitate, the reality of your situation setting in. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I … I moved here from my home country to be with Charles.”

Max looks concerned. “You can’t stay with him, not after everything.”

“No, definitely not.” You exhale deeply, feeling the weight of the situation. “I’ll figure something out. Maybe find a hotel for a few days.”

Before you can say more, Max interjects, “Stay with me.”

You look at him, a bit taken aback. “Are you sure? We’re still navigating whatever this is between us.”

He nods, his gaze steady and sincere. “I know. But I also know you shouldn’t be alone right now. You can take the guest room or,” he pauses, a hint of mischief in his eyes, “the master bedroom, if you prefer.”

A blush creeps up your cheeks at his teasing tone but his offer feels genuine. “Alright but only if you promise not to snore.”

Max chuckles, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as the two of you head off the yacht. “Deal.”

The familiarity of Max’s penthouse greets you as you step inside. It's comforting and safe, an oasis to escape the shattered memories that line the Monaco streets.

While you unpack, Max makes dinner. The two of you eat in comfortable silence, the city lights casting a soft glow through the apartment.

“Thank you for this,” you say, gesturing around the dining room, the food, the moment. “It’s more than I could’ve ever asked for.”

Max meets your gaze, his blue eyes reflecting warmth and understanding. “You’re not alone in this. Whatever comes next, we’ll face it together.”

The night unfolds, a sense of peace settling between you. Whether it's the soft hum of the city below or the comforting presence of Max beside you, you drift into a deep, restful sleep.

Waking up the next morning, the events of the past weeks feel like a distant memory. But the man beside you, his arm wrapped protectively around your waist, is a calming reminder of new beginnings.

With Max by your side, you feel ready to face whatever challenges lie ahead, knowing that no matter what, you’re not alone.

***

“Are you ready for the madness?” Max asks, offering you a hand as you step out of the car, the roar of the crowd at Zandvoort Circuit immediately evident.

Taking a deep breath, you nod. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

The two of you walk hand-in-hand towards the paddock, drawing attention from fans, crew, and media alike. Whispers spread like wildfire but neither of you flinch. Together, you are a united front.

Suddenly, Charles appears from around the corner, his gaze immediately locking onto yours. “So this is the big reveal?” he asks, dripping with condensing sarcasm.

Max steps protectively in front of you. “It’s none of your business anymore.”

Charles scoffs, his eyes darting to the Red Bull VIP pass around your neck. “Jumping ship already? You always were fickle.”

Ignoring the jab, you retort, “You lost any right to an opinion about my life the second you threw away our relationship.”

Charles’ eyes flare with anger. “And you,” he snaps, turning his attention to the reigning world champion, “you think you can just swoop in—”

Max cuts him off sharply, “I think you’ve said enough.”

“You two deserve each other,” Charles hisses before storming off.

Max wraps an arm around you, his touch reassuring. “Ignore him. Today is about the race, about us. Nothing else.”

You nod, taking a deep breath. “Thank you.”

The race itself is thrilling. From Red Bull garage, you watch as Max masterfully maneuvers his car, leading the pack with unparalleled skill. Every turn, every overtake steals your breath. And when he crosses the finish line, the roar of the crowd painting the grandstands orange is deafening.

As Max emerges from his car, he’s immediately surrounded by his team, celebrating yet another victory. And then, spotting you in the crowd, he breaks away, making a beeline towards you. Without a word, he pulls you into his arms, his lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss.

The world fades away, leaving just the two of you in this perfect moment. As you pull apart, Max’s eyes shine with triumph and love. “For you,” he murmurs, holding up the trophy.

Laughing, you pull him close once more. The challenges and confrontations of the day pale in comparison to the joy of this moment. Together, you and Max are unstoppable. And as you celebrate his victory, you know that this is just the beginning of many more triumphant moments to come.

***

The familiar sounds of roaring engines, the scent of burning rubber, and the vibrant energy of the paddock have been a part of your life for years. But being around the Red Bull team feels like a different world compared to your previous experiences with Ferrari.

Christian Horner welcomes you with open arms. “It’s great to have you on board,” he says during a quiet moment in the Red Bull motorhome. “Max seems happier than he’s been in a long time.”

You smile, thinking of the nights spent laughing with Max, the whispered conversations, and reflected dreams. “I’m grateful to be here. And to be with Max.”

Helmut Marko, although initially intimidating with his sharp gaze, soon warms up to you. “Just take care of our champ,” he jokes one evening after another successful race.

As the weeks pass, the bond between you and the Red Bull team strengthens. Daniel Ricciardo becomes a close friend, often joining you and Max for dinner or movie nights. Sergio Perez, with his playful humor, keeps everyone laughing, while the mechanics and engineers teach you the deeper intricacies of the sport.

Yet, it’s not all smooth sailing. The media, always hungry for a story, constantly probes into your relationship with Max. Rumors swirl, some true, most fabricated. Yet, through it all, Max remains your anchor, always supporting and defending you.

One evening, as the two of you relax in his suite after a grueling race weekend, Max turns to you, his eyes serious. “I know this world can be intense, the scrutiny constant. But I hope you know that you’re not alone in this.”

You nod, feeling a swell of emotion. “Being with you, being part of this team, it’s incredible. Like finding a family I never knew I needed.”

Max smiles, pulling you close. “That’s because you are family. And I promise, no matter what, we’ll face everyone and everything together.”

The season progresses, and as Max inches closer to clinching the championship title once again, the excitement within the Red Bull team reaches a fever pitch. Through every high and low, every victory and setback, you stand beside Max, cheering him on.

***

“Easy there!” Christian says, catching you just as the world starts to spin and your vision blurs.

The sound of concerned voices surrounds you as you struggle to stay conscious but it’s too much. Everything goes black.

When you come to, you’re lying on a couch in Red Bull hospitality, Max’s anxious face hovering above yours. “Hey,” he murmurs, relief evident in his voice. “You scared me there.”

“What ... what happened?” you ask, your voice weak.

“You fainted,” Daniel chimes in from nearby. “We’re getting a doctor to check on you.”

True to his word, a doctor soon arrives, performing a series of tests and asking various questions. He recommends a more thorough examination and you find yourself being whisked away to a nearby clinic.

As you await the results, Max holds your hand, his thumb gently stroking your skin. “I’m right here,” he assures you. “Whatever it is, we’ll get through it together.”

The doctor returns, a knowing smile on his face. “Congratulations,” he says, looking at both of you. “You’re going to be parents.”

The room goes silent, the weight of the revelation sinking in. You turn to Max, searching his face for a reaction. “I’m sorry. I ... I didn’t expect this. It’s so soon.”

Max pulls you close, his eyes glassy with tears of joy. “Life has a funny way of surprising us,” he murmurs. “But I know one thing for sure. I can’t imagine having a family with anyone else.”

Your emotions swirl, a mix of surprise, joy, and fear. “Are you sure? What about your career? The media?”

Max silences you with a gentle kiss. “None of that matters. The only thing I care about is us. Our family.”

Tears roll down your cheeks, touched by his words. “I love you,” you whisper, heart full to overflowing.

Max grins, his blue eyes shining. “And I love you. This might be unexpected but it’s the best surprise of my life.”

***

“Three-time World Champion! How does that feel?” A journalist thrusts a microphone towards Max moments after his astounding win in Qatar.

“It’s surreal,” Max responds, his gaze seeking you out among the crowd. “Every championship is special but this one ... it’s different.”

The winter months are a haven of privacy for the two of you in your own little bubble. As the world speculates about the upcoming racing season, you and Max nest away from prying eyes, savoring the anticipation of your growing family.

However, when the 2024 season kicks off, it’s impossible to hide your baby bump any longer. Whispers ripple through the crowd as you walk through the paddock with Max for the first day of preseason testing.

“It’s so obvious now!”

“They look so happy together.”

“She’s glowing.”

But one voice rises above the rest from the sea of murmurs, filled with venom. “So this is your grand plan? Trap Max by getting pregnant?”

You turn to find Charles, his face contorted with anger. You take a deep breath, preparing to face the storm. “Charles, this really isn’t the place—”

Max steps forward, partially blocking you from Charles’ view, his voice colder than ice. “What do you want?”

Charles scoffs, looking you up and down with disdain. “Just wanted to see the spectacle for myself. You always did know how to play the game.”

Max’s eyes flash with anger, his posture tense. “Let me make this clear. You don’t get to disrespect Y/N or our relationship. You lost that right a long time ago.”

“You think this will make him stay with you?” Charles sneers towards you. “That he won’t get tired of you just like he did with all the others?”

Before you can respond, Daniel steps in, his presence commanding and the joking smile that usually graces his face nowhere to be found. “Enough. Show some respect.”

Christian, overhearing the commotion, joins the fray. “Is there a problem here?” he asks, voice firm.

Charles hesitates, glancing around at the united front against him. “No,” he finally mutters, turning on his heel and walking away.

Max’s grip on your hand tightens, his expression stormy. “You know you’re never alone in this, right?” he asks.

You nod, your voice soft but resolute. “I do. And I know you’ll always have my back. Just like I’ll always have yours.”

He squeezes your hand. “Always. Nothing and no one can ever come between us. Our family is the most important thing in my life.”

***

The soft hum of chatter surrounds the preschool’s main entrance. Parents eagerly await their children, discussing the excitement of the first day. You stand beside Max, his hand resting protectively on your protruding belly.

“Look, Mama!” A little voice exclaims and two giggling children rush towards you — your daughter, Sophie, and a boy with familiar dark hair.

Before you can respond, another voice joins the fray. “Henri! Over here!”

You turn, finding Charles standing there, Elise by his side, her arm entwined with his. Their eyes meet yours, a mixture of surprise and recognition.

Sophie hugs her little friend, Henri. “This is my new best friend!”

Max bends down, ruffling Sophie’s hair. “That’s great, liefje.” He then stands and addresses Charles, his tone neutral, “Seems our children have taken a liking to each other.”

Charles nods, attempting a smile. “It appears so.”

There’s an awkward silence, the past hanging heavily between you all.

Finally, Elise speaks, her voice quivering, “I’m sorry ... for everything. I never expected things to turn out like this.”

You meet her gaze, seeing genuine remorse. “Life is full of surprises. But it led me to Max and he is the best thing that’s ever been mine.”

Max adds, “What’s important is that we’re all here for our kids. Let’s not make our past their burden.”

Charles sighs, rubbing his temples. “You’re right. I regret many things but right now, Henri is my world and I want the best for him.”

You place a hand on your belly, feeling the tiny kicks. “Our children have a chance at a fresh start, a friendship untainted by the history of their parents. Let’s not stand in their way.”

The two children, oblivious to the emotional weight of the moment, tug at your arms. “Can we go to the park? Pretty please.” Sophie asks, her eyes shining with excitement.

You smile down at her, “Of course.”

As your two families part ways, there’s a sense of closure. The past, with its pain and betrayal, has been acknowledged, but the future, the innocent laughter of your children, holds promise. Life has moved on, leading each of you down different paths, but in this moment, there’s newfound unity in the shared hope for a brighter tomorrow.

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 28

part 1 | part 27 | bonus stobin scene | ao3

cw: anxiety attack, graphic thoughts of death

Chapter 7

Steve's mom leaves the week before Thanksgiving.

No preamble, no notice, no "so long and thanks for paying rent," just— poof. Gone. Ta-ta, kiddo. Have a great life!

(Or don't!

Who cares?

Not me, that's for sure!)

The worst part is Steve finds out from Ernie of all people. Ma couldn’t even tell him to his face that she’s abandoning him to the gaping maw of this hellish town because she’s a good-for-nothing coward. Some day this place is gonna swallow him whole, splinter the bones and cough up the pellet, and Florence Harrington will be somewhere far, far away, sighing empty condolences over a fresh glass of red. “Just dreadful, isn’t it? Such a pity; what a shame.”

Steve’s hanging towels on the clothes line the day after the party — after the ride to drop off Max and the hangover brunch with Robin; after drowning his headache in Tylenol and finally getting home, only to realize that he can’t shower yet because all the towels are soaking wet — when Ernie looks up from his yardwork and casually ruins his goddamn life.

“You're wastin' your time with that,” he says, propping his weight against a rake and squinting at Steve in the mid-afternoon sun.

“What?” Steve frowns; hangs another towel. It's not like they're going to dry themselves. "Why?"

"Too cold."

"It's not supposed to rain, though, is it?"

"No, but the humidity—"

Screw the humidity. "I'm sure it'll be fine."

Ernie shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

He turns his attention back to his yard, dragging the rake over a smattering of damp leaves; obsessed with keeping his little patch of lawn pristine; and Steve reaches into the hamper and sincerely hopes that Ernie’s wrong. He needs a shower, and if the towels don't dry fast enough they get that gross mildew smell to them, and then it gets in Steve's hair, and how is he supposed to flirt with Eddie if he smells like musty lake water?

"Where's your mom off to, anyway?" Ernie asks after a moment. "Saw her leave this morning with two big suitcases,” he explains when Steve throws him a questioning look. “Figured she was off somewhere nice.”

Steve blanches.

Two big suitcases?

He didn’t even notice that she wasn’t here. Feels like a stupid, selfish asshole now, because he’d called ‘ma, I’m home!’ when he got in earlier and had thought nothing of her complete lack of response, the peaceful silence of the house; had welcomed it at the time, even, and what if—

Oh, god, what if she’d died?

What if she’d been lying there dead in her room, and Steve didn’t bother to check because he was too busy thinking about himself and how nice it was not to hear reruns on the TV for once? How long would she have lain there, rotting and bloated, and— and how long would his dad have, if the gunshot hadn’t rung out? How long; how long? Bleeding out on the carpet gurgling fish sounds everything red and Steve can’t breathe—

“Did she—?” he pants. Brings a hand to his throat; tries again. “Did you- see who she left with?”

“Some woman. Relative of yours, maybe? I didn’t get a good look at her. Had a real fancy car, though. Mercedes, think it was.”

Steve chokes on his own spit. Feels his throat close up, his heart pound and his ears ring and the yellow-purple-black start creeping in like vines at the edge of his vision, like demogorgon claws; like death’s shark-toothed grin. Hungry, howling, happy as it takes a bite out of him.

“You alright?” Ernie asks.

Steve grinds his jaw so hard he feels something crack. "Excuse me," he grits out, stomping back into the house.

—

"Fuck!" Steve shouts to his empty house — to the sun-faded paneling, to the weird stain in the orange carpet. Fucking Cecelia; fucking hell.

He cleans the house in a rage, eyes hot with unshed tears, and there's a note on the breakfast table. Crisply folded on plain paper, prim cursive letters, almost comically estranged:

Steven,

Apologies for short notice. Gone to stay with Aunt Cece in Evanston. Call or visit if you like.

— Mom

P.S. Happy Thanksgiving

The words leave papercuts in his throat. Steve rips the note to tiny pieces, can hardly see for the tears swimming in his eyes, but he's not crying over this; he's not. He fucking refuses.

Somewhere along the way, the cleaning turns to blind destruction, demolition of the all the little scraps of life mom left behind: her creepy angel figurines, her vintage Pyrex dishes, an empty bottle of old perfume. Steve hurls them all against the living room wall, delights in the shimmering pile of broken glass at his bare feet. Wants to crawl over it on hands and knees. Wants to burn this place to the ground.

When the sun dips below the trees he goes back out to check the towels. The air is wet, bitterly cold; nips at his hands when the wind blows, and the towels hang heavy on the line, just as damp as before but now the slightest bit stiff with the first creep of frost.

"FUCK!" Steve roars, ripping a towel down off the line. Yanking each one down in turn, throwing them into the dirt, raging, "What! Is! The fucking! Point!"

His tears spill over then, hot and wet as he sinks to his knees with a wounded growl, and he chokes there in the dirt; the cold, wet mud, the patchy grass. Gravel digs into his shins, and sobs wrack his chest, capsize him like plunging waves, and he can't do anything but shake and cry where the whole neighborhood can see. Making a commotion; making a scene, as his mother would say, but his mother's not here. She fucking left. She left him here, and his dad did, too, and Steve is utterly, truly, hopelessly alone.

"Come on, son."

And there’s Wayne Munson, coaxing him up off the ground with a sure, strong grip. Steve makes animal sounds as Wayne lifts him under the arms — ruined hiccups, mangled wails. There's mud in his lungs. Ocean silt; sucking sludge.

His mother's gone.

"Easy now," Wayne shushes; hugs him hard against his side. "You're alright, kid. You're alright."

—

part 29

tag list under separate reblogs, comment if you’re over 21 and want to be added tomorrow

[herpsandbirds]

I love your blog, could you post animals related to fantasy?

I give you a unicorn, a dragon, and the dreaded basilisk...

Spotted Unicornfish (Naso brevirostris), family Acanthuridae, order Acanthuriformes, found in the Indian Western Pacific Oceans

The unicorn horn on the unicornfish is called a "rostral protuberance", and no one really understands why they have them.

photograph by Paddy Ryan

Komodo Dragon (Varanus komodoensis), family Varanidae, found on Koomodo Island and other nearby islands in Indonesia

Venomous.

ENDANGERED.

It was once thought that Komodos subdue prey with a heavy and noxious array of mouth bacteria that infect bite wounds of prey after being bitten, but... it was never really determined scientifically if that's what was happening (conclusively, at least).

It turned out, they're venomous! Research was done in 2009 that found a primitive venom gland at the back of the mouth.

This is that largest species of lizard in the world, growing to a maximum total length of up to ~ 3 m (~10 ft.) long and a max. weight of up to 8~ 81 kg (180 lbs) (in the wild).

photograph by Andrew Yates

Green or Plumed Basilisk (Basiliscus plumifrons), male, family Corytophanidae, Nicuragua

Basilisks are capable of running across the water's surface to escape predators (sometimes called the Jesus Christ Lizard).

Photograph by eco2drew

[theladybarnes]

CRIMSON AND CLOVER: CHAPTER SIX

"Got me stressed out. It's not even my girlfriend.”

▸ summary: it’s a mental game to get out of woods, and you need help bringing yourself back to earth. ▸ characters: steve harrington, eddie munson,dustin henderson, ft. robin buckley & max mayfield ▸ word count: 12.6k ▸ warnings: angst, semi-fluff, SMUT (MINORS DNI +18), mentions of death ▸ series masterlist

“Flay this, you ugly piece of shit!”

 Your surroundings blurred as you stumbled against the railing in front of you. The air was thick with bitter smoke, and the distant cracking of fireworks reverberated through the air.  You’ve been here before. This was Starcourt Mall. 

 The night you all faced the Mind Flayer.

 In disbelief, you watched as your friends frantically threw fireworks at the colossal creature on the ground floor. Their faces etched with determination and words filled with anger. The Mind Flayer writhed and snarled from below. Whipping its gaze at all the directions the attacks were coming from.

 A surge of confusion swept over you. How the hell were you back here? Was this a dream? It had to be. The mall, the flayer– it all felt too surreal to be real. Yet, the vividness of the moment, the heat of the fireworks, and the urgency in your friends' voices made it impossible to dismiss as just imagination.

 There was a lull in the attack that you were able to hear your name being called out.

 The voice was unmistakable. Billy. 

 His desperate cries echoed through the chaos, adding to the overwhelming sense of dread. Slowly, you approached the edge of the railing to peer down below. 

 "Help me! Babydoll, please!” His desperate pleas cut through the chaos. “Don't let it get me!" 

 Your gaze locked onto the unfolding horror below as one of the Mind Flayer's tendril arms snaked around Billy, pulling him helplessly toward its gaping mouth. Billy's terrified screams resonated through the air, pleading for salvation. Your heart pounded in your chest, urging you to move quickly. But an invisible force seemed to paralyze you, rendering you powerless to intervene.

 As the monstrous entity snarled at Billy, the scene descended into a nightmarish mess. Walls turning dark red with the light slowly fading to the center of the room. Unable to witness his gruesome fate again, you fell backward in fear, the world around spiraling into darkness.

 However, the horror didn't end there. 

 Your friends, done with their attack to the flayer, all slowly crowded towards you. Surrounding you in a circle of their judgmental gazes before they pointed down to you. Shouting out their accusing cries. "WHY WON’T YOU SAVE HIM?" they demanded in a chorus of eerie, distorted voices. The weight of their accusations pressed upon you, suffocating you with guilt and terror that kept you on the floor. It gave them a better chance to close in on you as they shouted out more claims.

 “HE LOVED YOU!”

 “HE WANTED YOU!” 

 HE DIED BECAUSE OF YOU!”

 Your jaw slacked at their words. Confusion in the mix of your fear as you tried to reach out to them. Hands shaking as you pleaded for them to realize the truth. “I didn’t want him to die! I don’t want anyone to die!” 

 Surely your friends would never think that about you. They had to know!

 Amidst the continuing cries, was one familiar voice shouting at you. Steve, who was silent until now, emerged from the nightmarish crowd, his face contorted with anguish as he kneeled down beside you. 

 "Why won't you save us?" He asked desperately, hands cupping around your shoulders. “You’re leaving us to die!” 

 When you didn’t say anything back he began to glare at you, words coming out in a spit as he gripped hard against you. “WHY WON’T YOU SAVE US?” His final yell echoed across the whole mall and in a final surge of terror, the world around you collapsed. 

 You jolted awake, gasping for breath as you forward. The world around me blurred as you slapped down against the dashboard. It took you a second to realize that you weren’t just sitting on the mall floor but in a moving car. 

 “Thank God!” 

 Eddie, who looked as sick as you felt, was behind the wheel, driving erratically as if the police were hot on your heels. Chrissy's contorted body flashed in your thoughts, reminding you of the horror you had just witnessed in the trailer.

 "Jesus Christ, slow down, Eddie!" you croaked out, voice tinged with a mix of fear and anger. "What the hell happened? Where are we?"

 Eddie's eyes darted toward you for a moment, his hands white as he held on the steering wheel tightly. "We didn’t have a choice, okay? We needed to get out of there before whatever killed Chrissy came for us too!”

 “B-but she’s back there!” you cried out, heart torn between the urgency of escape and the idea of abandoning Chrissy alone. “We can't just leave her there alone like that!"

 "We can't get caught up in this," Eddie insisted, frustration etched across his face. "You think anyone will believe I didn't have anything to do with it? Freak of the town, ring a bell?!"

 The reality of the situation hit you like a punch to the gut. But that was slowly pushed back when you realize just how far out of the main part of town you guys are at. You reached out to Eddie’s arm, tugging at it quickly. 

 “Eddie, tell me you’re not leaving town.”

 “All right, I’m not leaving town.” he said sarcastically, pressing down harder onto the pedal. The road began to blur and you could feel the anxiety grow in the pit of your stomach. 

 “We cannot leave town, Eddie! Turn back!” you urged. 

 His gaze shifted away, guilt and fear written all over his face. "Look, I know it’s bad. But I–we can’t risk it. Not when we don’t even know what the hell happened!”

 “It doesn’t matter! Turn back now!” The two of you are so busy glaring at each other that you both failed to notice the van veering off the road. "Shit, watch out!" you shouted as you finally registered what was about to happen.

 Eddie tried his best to press down on the brake and slow down the speed of the van, but to your horror, it only skidded over the long grass of Hawkin’s massive forest. Panic surged through you as the van rushed towards a tree, and you braced for impact.

 The world blurred as the van crashed through the underbrush, the sound of crunching metal and snapping branches deafening. In the midst of the chaos, you clung to your seat, desperate for it to stop. It wasn’t until one final forward thrust that the van finally stopped. Leaving you gasping for air again.

 The scene felt oddly familiar to your own car accident years ago. But there’s no flashing lights, and your father wasn’t on his way to help you. The only thing waiting for you was the looming dark forest that swallowed up the lights from the headlights. 

 "Shit," Eddie's voice trembled with fear as he finally released his tight grip from the wheel. "Someone’s gonna see this. Come on, we can't stay here."

 He threw open the door, while you stumbled out. The world spun wildly and it took you a minute to control the overstimulating thoughts and memories flooding your brain to register that Eddie was in front of you now. “I-I can’t..” you whimpered, hands reaching out to him. 

 You closed your eyes, feeling his hands cup around the sides of your face as he waited for you to calm down. It was only a second later that you opened them again to see the look of concern on his face. “I’m sorry,” he breathed, shaking his head. “We still have to go.”

 Reaching down for your hands, he made sure to lace them together before he led the two of you away from the van towards the trees. “Wait, shouldn’t we go back on the road?” you asked, trying to keep up with his pace. The uneven forest floor beneath your feet felt foreign and slippery. Making it hard to try and keep up with your friend who had now moved on to mumbling to himself.

 "Eddie, slow down! I don't know these woods!" you cried out, breath catching in your throat.

 He didn't hear you, or maybe he didn't care. Eddie was on a mission, leading the two of you deeper into the wilderness. "I know a safe place, just keep up!"

 But the dense foliage and the unfamiliar terrain took on your already unsteady balance. You stumbled over a protruding root, hands reaching out to break the fall. The grass was moist beneath your fingers and you took a second to close your eyes to stop the world from spinning again. Eddie continued on without noticing, his footsteps fading in the distance while you struggled to regain footing.

 "Eddie! Wait!" you called out. The only response was the eerie silence of the woods. Taking a few long strides in, you called out for your friend again, hoping your voice was loud enough to break through the trees. 

 “EDDIE!”

 It’s only a matter of seconds before you’re lost, alone, and terrified. Still, you picked yourself up, desperately searching through the thicket for any sign of your friend. The trees loomed like shadows, and panic clung to you like a suffocating shroud. He couldn’t have just left you behind right? But the more you walked, the louder you called out, the more you were hit with the realization.

 You were stranded in a place you didn’t know, alone without your friend, and cold from the night sky. But the worst part of all, was the light echoes of a ticking clock in the distance.

 Exhausted and disoriented, you stumbled into the main street of town as the evening sun began to break through the trees. Your clothes were damp, feet sore from your terrible choice in shoes, and body shivering from the cold night in the woods. 

 It’s not like you had any choice. With the road being too dangerous at that time of night to hitchhike, your only other safe solution was to tough the walk through the woods and hope you’d find the outskirts of town soon enough. 

 You’re embarrassed to say that despite your usual sense of direction, you managed to circle around the woods a few times. Making your arrival into town at a much later time than you’d have preferred. But at least you were back. Better than another night trying to ignore the various noises and whispers the woods had to offer to you.

 It wasn’t like you had any help at all considering that at no point in the night did Eddie try and find you. 

 Still, you pulled through and despite the sleepiness, the hunger, and the aches, you were determined to get yourself home. But that plan seemed to come with a few complications.

 With every store you passed, every street corner, the townspeople of Hawkins seemed to be highly aware of how out of place you looked right now. One glance at the hardware store window and you were shocked to find just how disheveled and weary you looked, confirming your guesses to their curious gazes.

 You had to get home. You needed to get Dustin and figure out what to do about this mess.

 So without wasting time, you made your way towards the bus stop that stopped nearest to your house. But just as you were about to ask around for some possible bus fare, there was a loud honk that caught your attention.

 “Honey!?”

 You turned on your heel, scanning through the small group of passengers to try to find the familiar voice calling out to you. Around the corner of the block stood Steve. Your eyes met and you could see that along with the worrisome look on his face was a bit of shock. Possibly from your appearance. 

 The two of you don’t waste a second to make your way to each other. Steve even went as far to run over to you before he stood before you.

 "What the hell happened to you? Dustin told me he hasn’t seen you since yesterday. Are you okay?" His eyes scanned over your figure, possibly trying to find an injury that matched with your current state of appearance. Without waiting for an answer, he pulled you into his arms, letting his hand cradle the back of your head as he pressed your face into his chest.

 You couldn’t help it as you allowed yourself to hug him back. Seeking comfort in his arms after the night you had. The scent of his cologne and heat from his chest felt amazing against your cold skin and it wasn't until he pulled back that you realized you were shaking from the weather. 

 He quickly shed off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders, providing a better warmth over your shivering arms. He was still waiting for you to answer, only raising a brow to you as he cupped the side of your cheek gently. 

 There’s a weak attempt at trying to smile. To let him know that you were okay. But you weren’t. At least mentally you weren’t. Not when you couldn’t stop replaying the events that happened just last night. It only felt even more overwhelming now that you had Steve of all people worried over you again.  “I’m sorry.” you croaked, unable to stop the guilt from coming through. “We got in an accident and then we–I got lost in the woods."

 Steve's eyes widened in disbelief. "Accident? Lost in the woods? What were you doing out there? Are you hurt?" He glanced around, noticing that there were a few people eavesdropping into the conversation. He carefully pulled you away from the bus stop towards the other direction. “Did he do this? Did Eddie do this?”

 "No,” you answered right away, not needing for that vine to tangle up in this mess. “I can't explain everything right now. It's complicated," you replied, voice shaky from exhaustion. "Please..I just need to get home.."

 For a moment he looked even more worried if possible, but instead of pressing on, he merely rubbed his thumb against the apple of your cheek before nodding his head.

 "Alright, Honey.” Steve said more softly now, gesturing towards his car. “Let’s get you home." His concern was genuine, and despite the awkwardness that should be between the two of you, the only thing you could feel from Steve now was comfort.

 And that was all you’d focus on right now.

 It didn’t take long for Steve to get you home. In fact, you’re pretty sure he broke the speed limit a couple of times on the road. Not that you’d press him about it right now. All you wanted was to get inside your house. Where you could hopefully recollect yourself into a person again.

 Despite being in the comforts of being around Steve, you were still finding it hard to come back down from the overwhelming anxiety that still ached inside of you. It was almost like you were stuck on autopilot as you exited the car.

 Steve was quick to return to your side. Gentle like before as he wrapped an arm to lead you towards the front door. A glance up and you can see him sporting his frustrated frown despite the kind voice he used with you.  

 A step to the front door and you could hear the phone ringing inside, blaring loudly into the empty home “My key.” you whispered softly to yourself, trying to check over the pockets of your dirty dress. But all your things were gone. You’re not even sure when or where you’ve managed to lose everything. 

 “It’s okay.” Steve reassured you, carefully letting go to walk over to the potted plants your Aunt had placed this past summer. “The spare’s right here.” 

 You watched quietly as Steve moved over a ceramic frog to reveal the hidden key. It was just a couple of months ago, before the end of Summer, that you had revealed its secret spot to him. Telling him he was more than welcomed to use it any time he needed to.

 He had joked that you might get tired of his surprise visits if he had a way in every time. You happily told him that it’d be impossible, but if he really wanted to surprise you, there was always your bedroom window.

 “Come on,” he said, pulling you out of the memory. “Let’s get you warmed up.” 

 As the two of you entered the home, you glanced around with uncertainty. Unsure of where you should even start on your previous night considering the heavy load it came with. But before either of you could even touch on the subject, the shrill ring of the phone interrupted the silence again.

 Steve held a hand up, quietly offering to take the call as he picked up the phone from the small table.

 He muttered out a half greeting before sighing deeply. “Yeah, she’s here.” he said calmly to the receiver. "Yeah, I found her near Main… No, she's not hurt, I think, just shaken up… I don't know what happened, man. She hasn’t had a second to really explain..”

 You could hear the muffled voice of Dustin on the other end, bombarding Steve with questions you’re sure he doesn't have many answers to. Steve glanced over his shoulder, noting you quietly observing him before he motioned for you to go clean up. “Go ahead, I’ll be here when you get out.” he whispered.

 With that reassurance, you gave him a quick nod, grateful for his patience, and headed towards the bathroom. Once you closed the door and undressed yourself, you finally got the chance to really check over your appearance. The mirror reflected a face unfamiliar to you. One that wasn’t its usual confident self, but of someone who was scared.

 You didn’t like looking at that face. 

 Shielding your gaze away from the mirror, you quickly stepped in started up the shower.

 The hot water felt good as it cascaded over you. Washing away any dirt and grime that clung to your skin from the long night in the woods. That and the loofah you were scrubbing hard against your skin. Every swipe of sudsy soap would reveal a red burning skin that let you know it was fresh and clean.

 “Chrissy! Wake up! CHRISSY!”

 You nearly dropped the bottle of body wash from your hands as your mind flashed over the haunting images from before. The harsh, supernatural force that took Chrissy’s body so effortlessly as she hung in the air like a puppet. The sounds of her bones breaking echoed above the noisy shower. 

 Eddie’s screams came into your mind, almost like speakers pressed against your ears and you dropped everything to cover them up. Muttering for them to just go away. But it won’t stop. Every attempt to focus was met with the flashbacks that persisted. Each replay was more vivid than the last. The flash image of Chrissy's contorted body, the way her eyes sunk into her head, it all made you feel trapped in a nightmare from which there was no escaping. 

 You gotta get out. 

 You have to leave.

 You need to RUN.

 “Honey?”

 The clear sound of Steve’s voice brought everything to halt. Your eyes snapped open to watch as a hand reached past the shower curtain to turn off the water, cutting off the remaining sound in the room. Hesitantly you pulled back the plastic curtain a bit to peek out. 

 Steve was standing there, concern etched on his face again, but this time with his eyes cast down to avoid your naked form while he held up a towel.

 "Are you okay?" he asked softly. There’s a vulnerability in his voice that was unexpected, and you nodded as you reached out for the towel to wrap around yourself. 

 Finally he glanced back at you, giving you a once over as his hand extended out for you while carefully helping you exit the shower. With a small gesture towards the door, he helped usher you over to your bedroom. 

 The amount of patience and kindness that Steve was giving you today had your emotions turning erratic again. The mixture of your previous fear along with the current gratitude and embarrassment that came from having him see you like this.

 Once in the room, he let go of you, almost turning to leave before he sighed and returned back before you. Having had enough of the uneasy silence. 

 "I need to know what’s going on, Trouble. I know you were there in the trailer. What happened?”

 His eyes searched at yours for answers. But you found yourself hesitating, unsure of how to put it into words. Despite Steve being completely aware of things such as the upside down, hell, even your past, this was the one time it felt..unreal.

 "I don’t know if you’ll believe me, Steve. It’s..unlike anything we’ve seen.” you stammered, voice barely above a whisper. His concern deepened, and he urged you to continue with a light nod.

 "Chrissy... she..." You struggled to find the right words, your mind still clouded with only flashes of what you had witnessed. "She was taken by this force, this... I don't even know how to describe it. It just pulled her in the air..it twisted her, Steve. It was so fast..in mere seconds she was gone and crumpled to the ground. I've never been so terrified in my life."

 You didn’t even realize you were crying until Steve had stepped over to wipe at your cheeks. His face was even more grave than before as he looked down at you. He took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours, and said, "You’re safe now. You’re not there anymore.”

 “But safe from what, Steve? We don’t even know how or why it happened!” you whispered, feeling your throat choke up as the emotions you had been holding finally poured out. “One minute she’s just there inside with Eddie, and the next I hear screaming and she’s not talking! She was here but gone at the same time.” 

 Steve moved to wrap his arms around you, pulling you back into his chest to stop from shaking. “Did he say anything?..Do you know if he?..”

 “No, Eddie didn’t do this, Steve!” you pulled back from the hug to look up. “He was just as terrified as I was..it wasn’t him. I-I swear!”

 “I believe you, it’s okay.” he said quickly, noticing your sudden panic. But it's too late and you’re feeling the air around you turn thick, unable to get it in your lungs.

 “I can’t breathe, Steve!” You gasped, moving your hands to grip tightly at his arms. His presence alone was keeping you grounded before, but everything seemed to be crashing down at this moment. Your attempts to breathe mixing with crying only made things worse.

 “Breathe with me.” He shushed, pushing his forehead to press against yours. The palms of his warm hands wrapped around your shoulders and he tugged you closer to keep you from getting any colder. 

 But the fear persisted, and your sobs grew louder. It was then that Steve cupped at your face and planted a soft but deep kiss to your lips. Catching you off guard enough that your mind frazzled into focusing only on the touch of his skin to yours before he pulled back.

 "Why did you..." you began to ask, voice trailing off.

 "I just needed to help bring you back down to me," Steve whispered, his eyes searching yours. Almost as if he were afraid he had crossed a line. The two of you silently shared a moment of silence before you gave a quick nod.

 "Right," you managed to say, still grateful despite the unconventional method. 

 Steve remained close to you. "Are you?" he asked calmly.

 “Am I what?”

 “Here with me?”

 When you don’t answer, he sighed softly, enveloping you in his arms. The natural heat of his body called out to you and you reached out to hold onto him desperately. Seeking all the familiar comforts that came with Steve. The scent of his cologne, the warmth of his skin, the cotton of his shirt. It was impossible for you not to inhale all of it.

 He rested his chin against the side of your head, holding you tightly as his arms traced soothing patterns across the bare skin that peeked on the top of the towel. Something inside you is sparked and any sane conscious thought is out the window.

 You don’t want to feel this fear anymore. You just want to feel like yourself again. 

 Even if just for a moment. 

 Pulling away, you reached up, brought his face close and kissed him. 

 It was nothing like the shared kiss you had moments before. It was intense. Needy. All the emotions that the two of you seemed to share as you both clung onto one another. 

 His hands trailed down from your back to rest at your hips. The tip of his fingers dug lightly as he attempted to control whatever urge he had. Your own hands had the same problem as they crawled up to tangle in the ends of his soft hair. Tugging hard enough that caused him to groan against your lips. He broke the kiss apart to pull back. 

 “We’re being stupid right now, aren’t we?” he asked, hot breath fanning over you.

 “Yeah,” you breathed, eyes flicking down to his pink lips. “Incredibly stupid.”

 Reaching down between your bodies, you pulled the towel off from your skin, giving him a full view of yourself.

 He sucked in a sharp breath at the sight, eyes scanning down your body that had you flushed. Nodding his head to himself, he reached and grabbed your face with both hands and kissed you again. 

 Frantically, his own desperation kicked in and he doesn’t even give himself a second to properly shed off his own clothing. Making you have to be the one to pull back and help strip him down. Once he was down to nothing, he resumed pressing his lips against yours. Using one of his hands to cradle the back of your head and the other to press your body against his.

 The contrast of your cold body to his hot one had you both shivering as you stumbled backwards towards the bed. It wasn’t until the back of your legs hit the edge of the bed that he carefully pushed you to lay down. 

 Your back met with the comforter of your bed quickly and you gazed up to watch as Steve slowly came onto the bed, kneeling just before your legs. Though you’re both naked and practically panting with want, there’s a small flicker of concern on his face again.

 “Say it,” he begged, voice slightly cracked from being out of breath and from the hurt that lingered in his tone. “Say that you want this too.”

 “I want this.” you nodded, spreading your legs open for him. His eyes widened at the sight of you. His hand instantly reached out to rub down the expanse of your bare thigh. Your heart began to beat rapidly at the dark desire that flickered in his gaze. “I want you, Steve.”

 He groaned at that, leaning down so that he could lay on top of you. His lips were back onto yours once again, tracing his tongue at your lips until you parted yours and allowed him the chance to swirl it against yours. The sensation had you feeling lightheaded. Your hands wrapped around his shoulders, fingers digging lightly into his bare skin. 

 The light graze of his hardened cock brushing lightly against your inner thigh had you jumping back in surprise. Pulling back from his kiss, you looked down between the two of you, reaching down and taking hold of his member in your hands. 

 “Fuck, honey.” Steve whimpered, “It’s been so long.”

 The tip of his cock was already red, aching to be touched and dripping with excitement. The pad of your thumb swirled over the glaze of precum. You used its slickness to help glide your hand over the base of his member. Jerking it up and down lightly while you watched Steve’s face for his reaction.

 He emitted a sweet moan that had you biting down on your lip to keep from joining him. His hips jerked with every tug you gave and you knew it wouldn’t be long for him to take control again. So you enjoyed your time, leaning down his neck to kiss at his hot skin while you worked him to a full erection. 

 “I’ve missed this.” you muttered softly, kissing up the line of freckles and moles that adorned his neck. 

 “Me too.” he gritted, hands now gripped at your hips to control himself from thrusting into your fingers. “But I’ve missed something else even more.”

 One of his hands pulled away from your side so that he could release himself from your hold and slide down until they reached your aching core. The slick glaze of your arousal spread quickly over his fingers, giving him the chance to swirl around your folds.

 “Steve,” you whimpered, feeling already so sensitive and desperate for release. Any more of the simple touches and you were embarrassed to say you’d come undone easily. “I need you.” 

 “You have me.” he promised, as. he brought the tips of his fingers up to his mouth, sucking any bit of you that was left on them. “All of me.”

 With that he reached between you and easily guided his aching erection to glide against your slick folds. Teasing not only himself but you in the process as he worked you two up. You leaned up on your elbow to pull him down again, pressing your lips together as your hips instinctively thrust upward to him.

 He didn’t break the kiss, but he did stop his hips in time to finally press the tip of his cock at your entrance and slowly thrust in. The walls of your pussy reacted instantly to his member again. Tightening around his long thick size until he was fully sheathed inside of you. 

 Shocked, you gasped and looked up at him, eyes clouded with a familiar desire. It had been quite some time since you’ve felt this full and with every small nudge, Steve managed to bottom his way in. “God, you’re so tight,” he shuddered, bucking his hips for a moment before he wrapped an arm around the side of your waist. “So hot and tight for me.”

 “Steve,” you whimpered, hips rolling on their own accord before you forced your body to relax. “I need, fuck, I need–” you begged, practically desperate for him to make any movement now. 

 “Need what, honey?” he said, moving his hands to place down at your hips, a small thrust to get you moving a little. “Whatever you want, it’s yours.”

 “Move.” you said finally, nails digging into his shoulders now. 

 That was all he needed to hear before he began to move again. He slid out- and back in, with more force this time, causing you to shudder beneath him. The pleasure was strong this time, possibly with how desperate you’ve become since entering the room. You leaned up, clinging around his arms to hold him close. 

 Every part of his warm body felt like a cover from the world. A cover from the dread that wanted to eat at you that only he seemed to be able to pull you out of. It was all you wanted to focus on, all you could focus on. 

 Steve dropped his face into your neck, murmuring something against your skin before he kissed at the flesh gently. “Yours.” he said eventually, another thrust back. He picked his head back up to look down at you. One arm had you pressed close to his body, making you feel every part of him while the other leaned on his elbow to give him a chance to look down at you. “I’m yours.”

 You gazed up into his eyes, one hand letting go of his shoulders to cup at his cheek. “Mine.” you agreed, pressing your lips to his. 

 His pace quickened up at that, goading him into another set of emotions. 

 You wrapped legs around his waist. Keeping yourself from moving away from him as his quick thrusts that pushed you higher up in the bed. His name fell past your lips in a long moan, unable to think of any other words. It was like all you could do was think and speak his name. 

 Whether it be from your shifting feelings, or the fact that Steve was going at such a fast pace, the two of you seemed to be closer to your release than expected. He dropped his head down, pressing a few loving kisses to the apex of your breasts. He groaned your name against the pebble of your breast, nipping at the sensitive bud before he returned back to your face. Kissing your lips and cheeks over and over until he had to pull back to breathe again.

 “I can’t hold on much longer, baby.” you warned, leaning up to press a kiss to his shoulder.

 “Me either.” he nodded, taking a quick pause to look down at you. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but settled with dropping down to meld your lips once again. One of his hands let go of your waist to slip between the two of you, and you soon felt the familiar pad of Steve’s thumb press against your clit. 

 Without a wasted second, he began to roll the sensitive bud in a circular motion while thrusting into you at a more brutal pace. 

 The whole world is gone and all you could feel now was the intense orgasm as it washed over your body. Back arching up to him as you cried out in ecstasy against his lips. Your palms clasped his back, pressing yourself even more if possible to meet up with his final thrusts.

 He whimpered into your lips, pulling back to allow his face to fall against your neck and catch his breath while he shot his cum into your core. The thrusts slowed down and soon enough you only rolled your hips lightly against him to ride out the rest of the euphoria with him. 

 It was only a second that the two of you said nothing. Both of you seemingly unsure how to process the intensity that the sex brought. 

 His head lifted back up, looking down at you intently before gently pulling himself out of you. The sudden pressure change had you let out a small whimper and Steve returned to leaning back on his knees. His gaze was locked over your figure and you couldn’t help but feel embarrassed to look so wrecked. 

 But Steve doesn’t seem to think the same thing as he gently reached down, caressing the skin of your thighs. “You’re beautiful.” he said aloud, “So damn beautiful.” 

 Something sparked inside of you. Maybe the sincerity of his words, or the selfish need to be taken out of that deep sinking feeling that had its grip on you lately. Or maybe it was just because you wanted Steve and to ignore the reality that was outside the doors. 

 “Steve?” you asked softly, leaning up on your elbows.

 “Yeah?” he whispered back, looking at you with a small bit of concern again.

 “I’m still not here..”

 A small smile tugged at his lips before he nodded his head at you, crawling back up to climb over your body again. One of his hands crawled up this time to cup around your breast, kneading the muscle gently. 

 “Okay, honey. Let me try again.”

 It’s embarrassing to say you two go for it another two times before you’re both satisfied. The sun was set even more into the evening and you glanced at the clock in time to see you’ve been here for over an hour.

 You collapsed forward, sagging into his arms. Your chest nearly heaving as you struggled to catch your breath after all the vigorous movements you two just did. He pressed his lips to your cheek, and it burned. Like a reminder of his presence there being nothing but a burning comfort to you. 

 Holding your heavy breath, you stopped moving around. Allowing his arms to wrap around your body and give you the chance to savor the moment for your memory. To use it when you needed a reminder of a time you felt this content. 

 Eventually he helped lift your tired body up enough that he was able to pull himself out of you, hissing a bit at the cold air before he laid you to return to resting on top of him. Grabbing your bare leg, he draped over his hips and kept you close to his side so that he could use your warm skin as a cover. You gently placed your head against his chest, hand up so that you could gently run your fingers through the curls that covered his pecs. The sound of his heart beat, your favorite sound, thumped lightly in your ears.

 “Talk to me.” he said before he kissed the smooth skin between your brows. 

 You lifted your head up to watch him. Not answering right away to gauge his reaction. He’s pretty calm considering what you two were just finished doing. Not hurt like you almost expected for him to be after having just used him. In fact, he was just looking down at you patiently, bringing a hand up to caress the side of your face while he waited. 

  Resting your chin on his chest, you sighed softly, not sure what to say next. 

 “I’m sorry.” you said hesitantly. “I know you were trying to calm me down. But I didn’t mean to just use you to make myself feel better. It was shitty of–”

 “I wanted it.” he interrupted you, a firmness in his voice. You glanced back to his gaze, noting the calm was replaced with a serious look. As if he were about to lose it if you went further on with your sentence.  “I needed it, actually.”

 This was all so overwhelming.

 The very idea that after pushing Steve away, practically forcing him and yourself to move on with others, the two of you still relied on each other to feel good in the end. You’ve never had this feeling with anyone before. It was scary. It was too real. 

 You opened your mouth, ready to set him up with another disappointing apology when he sprung forward to kiss you. Ceasing any words from making it past your lips as he captured the moment. Again you don’t fight against it. At this point you don’t think you can.

 Down the hall, the phone sprung to life again, pulling you both back to reality. The kiss had you breathless, staring up at Steve with wide eyes because he was doing it again. He was making you question every choice you’ve ever made.

 “It doesn’t have to mean anything. This whole thing could be nothing..” he said, looking at you with such fondness. “It’s just us helping each other. That’s it.”

 “But it isn’t nothing.” you whispered back, unable to hide the truth. “It never is with us.”

 He doesn’t say anything. Only taking a glance down the hall at the phone that’s still ringing. Reaching up, you cupped at the side of his face and made him look back at you, but all that does is create a pained look on his face. Like he was torn about something.

 “It’s probably Dustin.” he said eventually, reaching up to pull your hand away. “We’ve been here longer than expected. They’re probably waiting for us.”

 “They?” you asked, releasing him fully from his hold so that he could climb out of the bed to gather up his scattered clothes from the floor.

 “Robin, Max, and Dustin were trying to figure out where Eddie could be hiding before I left.” he said, watching you while he dressed himself. “Max saw Eddie running to his van last night in a panic. We’re gonna try and figure this out. Get his side of the story.”

 The mention of Eddie brought a sad dip to your stomach. It’s been hours since the two of you had lost each other and you weren’t sure if he was okay or not. Not to mention it had been hours and he didn’t exactly seek out to find you either..

 A glance up and you watched as Steve quickly fixed himself enough to look presentable. This time the guilt rolled in when you thought of the idea of Steve wasting precious time he could have been using to help with Eddie just to go out and try and find you. 

 “Right,” you nodded, climbing out of the bed. “We should probably go.”

 He didn’t say anything at first as you began to dress yourself, pulling on underwear and a bra. But it isn’t until you’re about to reach for a shirt that he stepped over and reached out to gently grab your hand. 

 “No one would be upset if you wanted to sit this one out, Trouble.” he said softly, turning you to face him again. “After everything you saw and been through..we can figure something out by ourselves”

 “Are you trying to say you don’t want my help?” you ask a little guarded. In all this time you two had been dealing with the kids and the upside down, Steve has never once been the one to push you out of things. Even last summer with the Russian’s invasion, he was insisting on you joining. What was different now?

 “I always want you and your help.” he said as matter of fact. “But I’m not gonna be selfish and force you to come out and join us when I know there’s something going on with you.”

 Just like the night before, Steve’s intuitive mind was working double time on you. But there isn’t much time left in the day to dive into that discussion and you’re worried about wasting more time by having Steve stand around and be concerned about you.

 “I wanna come.” you explained calmly, trying to sound more confident than you felt. “I need to help figure this out too.”

 Steve’s eyes watched you carefully, almost like he was waiting for you to crack. But when you continued to hold your gaze, he must have sensed you wouldn’t be cracking down any time. “I’ll wait in the car.” he said eventually, leaning forward to press a kiss to your cheek.

 After that, he left you to finish getting dressed and also give you a moment to collect yourself in preparation for facing the others. 

 If Steve was worried enough to venture out for you, and Dustin enough to be calling the house this much, then surely the others would be just the same. And while a part of you wanted to allow them in, even just a little, there were other important things now. 

 Like finding where Eddie was, and figuring out just what killed Chrissy.

 So with that determination, you quickly finished dressing and locked up the house on your way out. The air was chilly again and you shivered a bit as you made your way over to Steve’s car. He was adjusting the radio when you entered inside. Fiddling out with the knobs for a station that he liked.

 Thankfully the heater was already on. Helping thaw out your cold bones as you buckled in. Right away your eyes caught sight of something you didn’t seem to notice before in your dazed out mind. 

 Wrapped around the left side of the driver’s visor, was the gold necklace. The ‘S’ dangled just enough to shine in the bit of light that was left outside. You couldn’t help but watch it quietly, not sure what to think about him still having it. Steve didn’t seem to notice where your attention was as he turned to face you.

 “Ready to go?” he asked, settling on a soft rock station. You nodded your head slowly, forcing your eyes to look out towards the window.

 “As I’ll ever be.”

 There is no real reunion when you finally get to picking up the others. Mostly, it was Robin taking control of the line of questioning. Which you were a little bit troubled with answering right away. Mostly because you needed to hear Eddie’s half to put all the pieces together.

 The rest of the car ride was spent being spooked by the empty lot that led over to Rick Lipton’s house. You recognized some of the area from the road. Recalling coming to part of town the past summer with Steve so he could show you lover’s lake.

 It was bizarre to think you were supposedly near this house just last night and wound up walking all the way back into town. It added to the bitter feeling inside of you when you remembered the events again. 

 But there were questions that needed answers and pouting about being left behind would have to be done later. 

 The car was parked in the dark driveway of the Lipton house and flashlights were slowly passed around before you all made an exit of the car. Steve was quick to make his way to your door, opening it up for you and extending a hand out to help pull you out.

 The moment is sweet and you squeeze his hand lightly in a silent thank you. Over his shoulder, you spot a gawking Robin who didn’t even bother to conceal the small shock on her face.

 Nodding for Steve to go ahead, you hang back a moment to let Robin make her way over to you.

 “So,” she chirped, “that was a pretty nice moment I saw there.”

 “Yes,” you agreed, looking at her from the side of your eyes. “Steve’s been really nice to me since he found me.”

 She hummed playfully, giving you a small wink. “I see. And I’m guessing he was really nice to you when you guys were at your house for over an hour.”

 You hoped that your poker face didn’t crack over Robin’s comment. On top of everything going on, you didn’t need to have her teasing either one of you for what may have happened in your house. Even if she was on the right track.

 “I think it was mostly me needing a minute to process everything.” you said slowly, thankful that you were able to be truthful. “Steve’s just kind enough not to rush.”

 Her eyes glanced over the guy, watching as he held the flash light over towards the side of the house, inspecting the area before he sensed the pair of eyes watching his back. Turning, he glanced between the two of you. Eyes shifting worriedly before he settled with putting an awkwardly forced smile on his face.

 “Dingus is something else, that’s for sure.” Robin muttered with a head shake. “Sorry if I’m pushy. Just looked like something might be sparking between you guys again.”

 Guilt spread over yourself at the idea of giving another person in your life false hope over something you weren’t sure of yet. Especially Robin, who most likely just wanted her close friends to get back together again. 

 “We’re always gonna be close.” you tried, hoping not to sound like your feelings were swinging in any kind of way. “I’m thankful that he’s always willing to help me, even when I don’t think he should.”

 “He cares about you.” She said calmly, like a reminder. 

 Your lips pursed and you dropped your gaze to the flashlight in your hands. “He cares about all of us, Robs.”

 “Yeah, but we know it’s different with you.” she shrugged, “Enough so that he’s willing to just drop everything he's doing to leave work and find you.”

 Dustin called out to the two of you to hurry up, leaving you without a chance to give out a proper response. Quickly, you both followed up behind the others to the door. All holding up a flashlight to brighten up the area.

 The first ring of the doorbell was met with an awkward silence. Then the second, then the third, then fourth, and finally fifth.

 You couldn't help but think that neither Rick nor Eddie would be the type of person who would happily open the door that was being rung this late at night. But, you figured vocalizing that might not help with Dustin’s current frustrations. Steve on the other hand..

 “Okay. Well, that’s settled. I guess he’s not here.”

 Like you expected, Steve’s skepticism only frustrated your cousin further. Causing him to change the ringing into banging. Yelling out for Eddie in hopes that his friend would come out to a friendlier voice.  

 “Look, we just wanna talk, okay? No cops, I swear! We just wanna help!”

 To your left, you watched as Max and Robin began to scale the side of the house. Trying their best to peer into the windows of the closed off home. 

 “EDDIE!” Dustin continued to yell, mixing his knocking with ringing again. “RICK!...REEFER RICK!”

 “Don’t scream that!” Steve chided, making you slightly amused before you moved closer to try and look through the window. The house from what you could see looked completely abandoned. Eddie considered this place to be a shelter from all the mess that had happened. So why did it seem like the place had been abandoned for a while now? 

 “Hey guys?” Max called out, bringing the group to leave the house and follow to where she stood. 

 Down her line of vision was a boat house. Eerily the only thing in the area other than the street lights to have a light on. Something in the back of your mind warned you about its creepy appearance, but considering that everything lately was getting to you, it’d be something you’d have to ignore.

 So down the hill the rest of you went. Lights flashing at the dingy building as you all approached its doors slowly. 

 Robin took the lead this time, pushing at the door slowly as she peeked her head in. “Hello?” she called out, not fully yet stepping in. “Is anyone home?”

 One by one the rest of you filed in after her. Lights aiming in different directions to showcase the inside of the place. It smelled like rusted metal, wet wood, and something else you couldn’t decipher. Forcing you to tuck your nose into the collar of your jacket to breathe in your perfume.

 “What a dump.” Steve called out, a light disdain in his tone. 

 “Did you really expect pristine conditions from a guy called Reefer Rick?” you asked, giving him a small look. He huffed amusedly before turning around to reach over for an ore on the wall. You’re about to ask what he was planning on doing with that when he suddenly began to stab the ore into the tarp covered boat. Making you and Dustin jump a bit from the rapid movement. 

 “What are you doing?” Dustin gaped.

 “He might be in here.” Steve answered simply, continuing with his jabbing.

 “And you plan on turning him into a skewer?” you frowned, taking a step back to observe from a safe distance. 

 Dustin shook his head, pointing over to the boat with his hand. “Take the tarp off!”

 “If you’re so brave, you take the tarp off.” Steve countered, still poking around the edges. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at their cowardice. 

 “Don’t you think he’d have popped out by now if he was hiding in there? You’ve practically poked a hole in the tarp.” you said, crossing your arms. 

 “Hey, look over here.” you heard Max call out. From the other side you watched Robin and her approach a table. Fiddling with some that had been thrown on top. “Someone was here.” she continued. 

 “Maybe he heard us. Got spooked and ran.” Robin suggested.

 “Don’t worry,” Dustin cut in. “Steve will get him with his oar.” 

 You chuckled at that, finding the whole thing ridiculous while Steve went on with his work. 

 “I know you think you’re being funny, Henderson, but considering the fact that everyone in this room has nearly died about a hundred times, personally, I don’t find it funny in the slight–”

 As if he were waiting for the right moment, Eddie suddenly popped out from beneath the tarp, causing everyone in the group to jump back in fear. He shot himself forward and grabbed onto a shocked Steve and pushed them backwards until the two of them were pressed against the wall. 

 All of you are too shocked to react right away. It wasn’t until Dustin was pleading out to Eddie to stop that you noticed he was holding up a broken glass bottle to Steve’s neck. A flashback of Steve’s bloodied face after dealing with the Russian’s came into your mind and you found yourself panicking over his safety. 

 Without even a second thought you picked up one of the other oars and gripped on it tightly, sizing up behind an unknowing Eddie. Dustin called out to you next, holding a hand up as he tried to take control of the situation.

 “Eddie! Eddie! It’s me! It’s Dustin!” he called out, gaining the attention of the boy. “This is Steve. He’s not gonna hurt you, right, Steve?”

 You glanced over Eddie’s shoulder to watch as Steve nervously tried to respond. “Right, yeah.” he whispered, almost afraid to speak up. 

 “Steve, why don't you drop the oar?”

 Right away he let go of the wooden piece, causing a small clanging noise to fill up the tense room. Eddie is slightly triggered by that, pinching the glass a little more against Steve’s neck and causing him to groan out. You glared at the back of Eddie’s head, ready to swing against your own friend when Dustin held a hand out to you again.

 “He’s cool! He’s cool!”

 “I’m cool, man. I’m cool.” he agreed in a whisper to Eddie. His eyes flickered behind the guy towards you, widening as he barely realized your attacking stance.

 “What are you doing here?” Eddie grunted, never looking away from Steve.

 “We’re looking for you.” Dustin answered, trying again to gain his friend’s attention. 

 “We’re here to help.” Robin joined in, trying to calm the tension that had risen. Eddie glanced back, probably just realizing the two girls behind Dustin now. 

 “Eddie, these are my friends.” he pleaded, “You know Robin, from band.” he said, gesturing to the girl behind him. Robin, while awkward, imitated the sound of her trumpet playfully. He turned to his other side and pointed over to Max. “This is my friend Max. The one who never wants to play D&D.” Max offered up her best wave, despite the nervousness that appeared on her face. 

 Dustin nodded over towards your direction, gulping a bit when he noticed you still were ready for the attack. “And you already know my lovely cousin,” he said, clearing his throat. 

 Eddie barely now registered your presence, glancing over his shoulder finally to meet your eyes. He’s shocked at your position, but still unwilling to let go of Steve right away. You made it a point to take a step closer, glaring at him as you finally spoke up. “Hiya, Ed. Remember me?”

 “Eddie,” Dustin cut in, trying to bring the calmness back. “We’re on your side.” There was a flicker of hesitation on his face, making you and Dustin turn slightly more desperate the longer he held onto Steve. 

 “I swear on my Mother! Right guys?”

 The other three shootout similar answers while you remained silent. Ready for anything.

 A long heartbeat passed before he pushed away from Steve, letting him fall back against the wall with a small grunt. You tossed aside the oar and made your way to check on him when Eddie gripped at your hand.

 The two of you hold eye contact and you’re unsure how to react to him calmly.

 His eyes alone showed there was a lingering fear. Hell, you just saw the same eyes in your own mirror hours ago. But the mixed emotions that were going through when it came to Eddie, made it a little hard to figure out how you wanted to react.

 “You’re.. okay.” he whispered, almost like he was afraid to speak aloud. 

 “Yeah, I’m okay.” you nodded, a frown still hard on your face. “No thanks to you.” 

 Tugging your hand out from his grip, you finally stepped away, ignoring the hurt look on his face as you joined Steve at his side. He was hunched over, hand rubbing lightly at his neck. You leaned down, getting close enough to inspect his neck yourself. The skin was red with a slight little nip against the spot under his jawline.

 Steve smiled slightly, reaching out to place his hand on top of yours. “I’m okay.” he reassured. 

 “Eddie..” you heard Dustin behind you. “We just want to talk.” The two of you turned your heads to watch as Dustin lowered down to squat before Eddie. He was closing himself off to the rest of you, hand still clutching onto the bottle as he kept his gaze away. 

 You couldn’t help but feel guilty knowing that Eddie was probably beyond freaked out about all this. There was still such anger and hurt flowing through you. But deep down you knew you felt for Eddie too. He was still the guy who had been your friend this whole time. 

 Dustin tried to reach out for Eddie’s hand to take the bottle, causing him to flinch and grip onto it tighter. Robin slowly approached next, trying Dustin’s docile method as she lowered down to his eye level.

 “We want to know what happened.” she said calmly. “To the both of you.”

 Max glanced over at you, worry still flickered over her pale face before she glanced back to Eddie with the same expression. Steve reached out to place a hand on your back, soothingly as he nodded at you to go forward. “Tell ‘em.” he said softly to you. 

 Eddie sniffled a bit. “You won’t believe me.” he said, voice cracking a bit. His gaze turned to look up now and you let out a shudder at the sight of his teary eyes. 

 Max stood closer, giving him a light shrug as she calmly said a simple “Try us.”

  Eddie was the first one to go up and recall the events of the night before. The pain, evident in his voice as he tried to describe everything in detail. Immediately your mind is plagued with the images you had seen with your own eyes. Following each part of the story that Eddie cleared out. 

 “..Things only got worse when I looked over to see Henderson passed out on the ground.” he said, pulling you out of your thoughts. “I..I didn’t know what to do, so I grabbed her and just..ran. I ran away. We left her– I left her there.”

 Your face contorted at the painful reminder. The memory of leaving her behind still brought a heavy guilt on you that ached in your chest. Tears pinched in your eyes and you turned away from everyone to control yourself.

 “But what happened to you?” Max asked when she noticed your sudden change. “How did you get separated? Steve said he found you in town by yourself.”

 “I was lost all night.” you clarified, wiping the tears out from your eyes to face them. “I came to in the van when we were nearly out of town.”  Eddie looked down in his hands ashamed, not meeting your gaze. “I had begged Eddie to turn back. To go someplace where we could call for help. I tried to remind him how things would be worse if he made a break for out of the state.. But that’s when we crashed.”

 “Crashed?” Dustin interjected, his eyes were wide as he looked over your appearance for any scars he must have missed out on before. Steve shifted slightly beside you, eyes turning dark as he took in the new information.

 “We made a break for the clearing,” you went on, anger still focused on Eddie. “I could barely grasp what had just happened, let alone follow Eddie, so it didn’t take long for me to lose him in the trees.”

 “I’m sorry,” he started, hands clasped together as he shook his head. “I thought you were behind me the whole time–”

 “You weren’t thinking about anything but getting yourself to safety.” you accused him, pointing a finger in his direction as you stepped forward. “I told you I didn’t know those woods at all and you just kept going!”

 Eddie lifted his head up to meet your fiery gaze. “I-I didn’t mean to..I was just–”

 “You were afraid?” you asked curtly, “Well so was I! I don’t have any idea what the hell killed Chrissy and the next thing I know is my friend just ditched me without even looking back!” You shook your head, feeling tears gradually make their return. “Did you even look for me?”

 The room was filled with a painful silence and you had to turn your face away from Eddie before you took out more anger on him. You nearly left the room entirely, needing to get some fresh air, when you felt a hand slip into yours, stopping yourself from leaving. 

 “Don’t go.” Steve said gently to you. “Just take a breath.”

 It felt easier said than done. But all Steve did was give you a knowing look and you settled with leaning against his side. Eyes cast down to the ground while you sucked in a sharp breath. His presence was a little calming, but you were still struggling internally. 

 During that bit, you could hear Eddie scoff in frustration. “Look, I can’t explain everything that I did, okay? All I can say is what I saw..it was something freaky, man.” There’s a beat of silence that had Eddie recoiling away from the group again. “You all think I’m crazy, right?”

 “No. We don’t think you’re crazy at all.” Dustin reassured gently. 

 “Don’t bullshit me, man! I know how this sounds.” Eddie cried out, voice cracking in frustration.

 Max leaned forward, keeping her voice calm and steady. “We’re not bullshitting you.”

 “We believe you just like how we believe her.” Robin added, pointing a finger over at you. But it does little to relieve Eddie’s shaken state. Finally, Dustin took the lead on explaining everything.

 “Look, what I’m about to tell you might be a little..difficult to take.” he started. 

 “..okay.” 

 “You know how people say Hawkins is..cursed? They’re not way off. There’s another world. A world hidden beneath Hawkins. Sometimes it bleeds into ours.” 

 “Like ghosts and shit?” Eddie asked.

 “There are some things worse than ghosts.” Max followed, trying to help pin it together for him.

 “These monsters from his other world, we thought they were gone. But they’ve come back before and that’s why we needed to find you.”

 Max nodded her head, glancing back at you briefly before she looked back at Eddie. “If they’re back again, we need to know.” 

 Dustin’s words brought a painful reminder of all the times the group has faced different monsters these past few years. From the Byers’ demogorgon, Dart and his pack of demodogs, and recently the Mind Flayer. All things that came when all of you were finally trying to get life back to normal. It wasn’t fair. 

 “That night, did you guys see anything?” Robin asked.

 “Dark particles, maybe?” 

 You tried to think back, recalling the only odd rememberable thing to be the flickering lights. But just like that night, you never saw the familiar monster that broke through walls, or the growling noise of the creatures that surrounded the house, or even the thuds of a monster in the distance. It was like nothing was there and yet it killed Chrissy. 

 “It would almost look like dust, swirling dust.” said Dustin to Eddie, hopeful for his memory to be better than yours. But all his friend did was shake his head. 

 “No, man, there was nothing you could see or, uh, or touch.” he explained, looking up at you. “It was just us in there.”

 You sighed frustratedly, finally giving Eddie a sparing glance. “He’s right..aside from the lights flickering it was like..she was pulled up in the air like a puppet. As if by magic.”

 “We tried to wake her, man. She couldn’t move.” he added after you. “It was like she..she was in a trance or something.”

 “Or under a spell.” Dustin countered. 

 Some sort of realization flickered over Eddie’s face. “A curse.” he said next.

 “Vecna’s curse.”

 Beside you, you could see Steve’s head tilted at the name. “Who’s Vecna?” he asked Dustin. Your cousin doesn’t look back to you guys, but from your spot you could see the sudden shift in his demeanor. 

 “An undead creature of great power.”

 “A spell caster.” Eddie added, voice soft in disbelief.

 “..a dark wizard.” Dustin finished off. 

 Suddenly, the room began to feel smaller, and the weight of this new threat pressed down on everyone. You couldn't shake the feeling that this time, it was different – that Hawkins was about to face a threat unlike anything you’ve encountered before.

  The mood between everyone didn’t get much better after you and Eddie finished retelling everything. 

 The others took their turn in recapping all the news coverage they had been hearing throughout the day. While it was safe to say you were clear as a suspect, it didn’t mean you were out of the woods just yet. Most likely, those closest to Eddie would be next on the public’s radar. Which seemed like the easier thing to worry about considering there was this ominous Vecna to focus on.

 But since things were clear for now, the rest of the group urged Eddie to continue hiding in the boat house. Promising to return the following day. It wouldn’t be safe to move him around just yet. An unfortunate circumstance that he’d have to understand for now. The only time you saw him look a little more comfortable with the idea was when Dustin promised to provide him with food the following day. 

 Soon after you were all back in the comforts of Steve’s car.

 The two of you back in the front seat while the three in the back talked about what could be going on and where they can start tomorrow. You’d answer one of their questions now and then, but weren’t able to fully bring yourself in just yet. Considering no one wanted to be in your line of anger like in the boat house, they were very minimal in what questions they’d call out to you.

 Steve, on the other hand, was silent. Still visibly stressed from the boathouse conversations. In fact, you were pretty sure he was upset with the way his jaw would clench now and then. Ever since the mini spat with Eddie, plus the reveal of what happened, he hasn’t been the same. But even then, he set aside his emotions to still offer up a ride to the others. Making sure everyone got home safely.

 You watched him carefully, wondering what was going through his mind. 

 Today was..definitely not what he probably had planned. Especially after everything that was said the night before, then in your bedroom, and then the boat house. It wouldn’t be surprising if he didn’t crack under the pressure he seemed to be under. You wished you could help alleviate this new worry, but all you’ve done lately is add to it. 

 The only solid concentration he seemed to have at the moment though was driving and keeping hold of your hand.

 “Okay, Steve. We’ll meet up early tomorrow. I think Eddie’s gonna need a lot of food if he’s gonna hide this out. We’ll have to go to the market before we pick up everyone.” Dustin said from the back with a yawn. 

 The others were already dropped off. Mumbling out tired goodnights before Steve had finally made the return back to your driveway. The engine was off and the three of you had been quiet until Dustin broke the silence.

 “Sounds good, man.” he confirmed, speaking up for the first time in an hour. 

 With a clap to Steve’s shoulder, Dustin quickly made his leave for the car. Calling out for you to hurry up before he used his key to enter the house. Neither of you made any motion to follow through on Dustin’s warning. Only watching in silence as he entered the home. 

 It wasn’t until he saw the switch of the living room light on that Steve finally turned to look at you. His eyes scanned over the features of your face before he leaned in to push a hair away from your face. “You doing okay?” he asked softly.

 You’re almost taken back by his quick concern. How despite all that’s happened and been said, his first question is to ask about your well being. 

 “I’m here.” Was the best answer you could think of at the moment. You were still pretty upset about earlier. Especially the fact that you allowed yourself to get so angry at Eddie who was clearly unfamiliar with this type of horror. But it was hard to control anything going on with you right now. A glance down and you noted how he hasn’t dropped your hand yet. “Are you? I don’t think I’ve ever heard you be so..quiet before. Feels weird.”

 He huffed amusedly through his nose before he shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve had a lot on my mind today. And honestly..I’m tired.”

 You use your free hand to reach over and cup the side of his face. Unable to contain yourself from helping provide Steve the comfort you know he needs. 

 His eyes slipped close and he leaned forward enough to rest against the palm of your hand while you gently caressed. He looked as tired as he sounded, and you wanted to help provide him with the ease of a good night’s sleep.

 “I never thanked you.” you murmured, watching as he peeked his eyes open to look at you. “Today you..you helped me in more ways than one.”

 “I think you sort of showed me thanks already.” he countered, a little bit teasing in his tone.

 “Us having sex was not my way of showing thanks.” you scoffed, only slightly amused by his words. “I mostly meant you bringing me home..and then back in the boat house. You helped calm me down.”

 He reached up for your hand to bring them together before him, squeezing them lightly until he pulled them up to press a kiss to the front of your finger tips. Keeping his gaze at you until he settled them back into his lap. 

 “I’m always gonna be here for you, you know that right?”

 The never failing sincerity of his words had you shyly averting your gaze away from his. Unsure how to deal with your own emotions as well as the ones that Steve kept bringing back. But he didn’t seem to want to wait for you to come up with an answer as he used the grip on your hands to pull you in and meet you in the middle of the console. There’s only a small space for you to decide to pull back but you ignored that thought as you pressed your lips against his. 

 The kiss, while breathtaking, was a lot sweeter than the ones you guys had shared today. Almost like a reassuring gesture to help ease you into ending the conversation. 

 “You need to get some sleep.” he urged when he pulled back for air. His plump lips were ghosting over yours now, enticing you back in despite his words saying otherwise. “After everything we need you back in shape tomorrow.” 

 “Okay,” you agreed, not quite moving just yet. “Promise you’ll get some rest too?”

 He nodded his head, pulling himself further back so he could meet your eyes. “I’ll be here as early as I can.” Sighing heavily, you take your hands out of Steve’s grip and reach for the door handle, sparing him one last look before you exited the car. 

 The sound of his engine starting up cut through the silence as you made your way towards the front door of the house. You got the chance to watch as he pulled out of the driveway, waving to you before he fully pulled away and made his turn down the street. 

 Exhaustion covered your whole body as you turned to enter the house. You were more than ready to pass out on your bed for a couple of hours. However, there was one more person waiting to talk. 

 Sat down on the chair beside the couch, was a nervous Dustin. Looking over at you expectantly as he waited for you to finally make your way towards him. He’s barely talked to you today and while you’re sure he was still annoyed with the previous fight you guys had, you could easily tell something else, something deeper was on his mind.

 “Dustin?” you called out slowly. “Are you–”

 “A lot happened yesterday.” he blurted out. Though his words were clipped, there was the familiar hint of Dustin’s sincerity that lingered through. “We could have talked things out but..I just got annoyed and pushed you away.”

 You blinked at that, trying not to think of the day again. “It’s fine, Dustin.”

 “It’s not..I didn't know where you were all day. A girl is dead.” he stood up, moving before you. “You were with Eddie when it happened..it could’ve been..”

 The words died off from his mouth but you feel you already know what he wanted to say. Taking a step forward, you reached out to rest a hand on his shoulder. Trying not to downplay his worry while also attempting to reassure him. “It could’ve been me, but it wasn’t. Okay?”

 “I just can’t shake the feeling that all of this isn’t gonna stop with just Chrissy.” he whispered, almost afraid to speak the words out loud. “It’s never just one attack for us. Vecna..he’s powerful. I don’t know what I’ll do if it’s you or anyone else.”

 “It’s not gonna be any of us.” you reassured him. 

 “How can you be so sure?”

 “Because, we have people like you on our side.” He tried to appear confident at that, but the lingering worry still lingered on his face. He was on the verge of freaking out. “We’re gonna figure this out, okay?”

 “..I hope you’re right.” he mumbled, pulling out of your grip with a sigh. “Let’s get to bed, we have a lot of work tomorrow.”

 With that, he quickly turned to walk away. Leaving you alone in the dimly lit living room with his words echoed in your mind. The worry about this ‘evil wizard’ hung in the air, and the unsettling reality that someone you cared about could be the next target scared you down to your core. 

 Things were different this time and most of the party has been split off. All you could hope for was to hold back the fear that wanted to consume you whole. 

A/N: Sorry it’s taken so long for another update! I was so busy and sick over these past few weeks. I really hope you guys enjoyed this update. I’m hoping to get this next chapter out sooner. Let me know what you guys think! xoxo

TAGGING LIST:

@cluz1babe , @starofavolonea , @darlingimafangirl (won’t let me tag), & @primroseluna​

[abibliophobiaa]

Begin Again: Chapter 4/4

Summary: The year is 1988. After the loss of a beloved family member, you find yourself inheriting an old coffee shop. The quiet bartender at the Hideout across the street just so happens to catch your eye.

(20k words; eddie munson x afab!reader; sunshine!reader x grumpy!eddie vibes)

Note: Tumblr ate my formatting, so AO3 is probably best. 🙃

Warnings: Vignette style (sorta); Eddie’s post S4 trauma; panic attacks; nightmares; family member loss; grief; alcohol use; nightmares; suicidal ideation; smut 18+ only.

AO3 | MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS CH

*

Winter 1988/1989

*

He leaves you alone in the coffee shop.

The smell of the coffee brewing grows sour, your stomach churning with the dread seeping into your veins with every throb of your heart.

Your four walls, your space, now empty without him there to fill it.

You never realized how much sound he’s brought into your life, how much color, how much of his light.

And in a moment, Chance had thrown a shade over it. Squashed it just as it had really started to grow.

Chance’s words roll around in your head.

Chrissy. Fred. Patrick. Jason.

Chrissy. Fred. Patrick. Jason.

Names without faces, people you’ve never met, people you’ll never meet.

Because they’re dead.

All of them.

Gone.

He says it’s Eddie.

It’s not Eddie.

There’s no reality you could ever find yourself in where you believe the lie that Eddie’s done something like this.

Not this man, not the one who consumes fantasy literature like it’s a lifeblood, who talks DnD with his youngest friends animatedly and conjures up new ideas for sprawling campaigns full of high stakes and grandeur, who flips Max upside down in his arms when he greets her until her laughter shakes deep within her bones and a smile lights up her whole face, the man who drinks out of a Garfield mug when he visits his Uncle, who listens to ABBA and Blondie with you and his friends even when he claims to hate it.

Not this man.

Never this man.

But now you need to find Eddie, tell him everything’s okay, that you don’t think he did it.

You know he thinks you do.

Could see it in the way he looked at you, in the way he flinched from your touch.

The title of murderer.

The weight of it.

You can only imagine how crushing that is, how hard it’s been to keep those accusations to himself all this time, to carry it on his back each and every day.

To live near to those who might whisper behind your back, question how you’re free, ponder your innocence.

You decide to close up early, dismissing your customers as nicely as possible, feigning issues with your machines. A patron grumbles that they were working moments ago, but you only offer them free coffees for their next visit and wave as they all bustle down the street.

It’s likely not the most professional thing you’ve done, but it’s necessary, your fingers removing your apron from around your hips before moving to go snatch your keys from behind the counter.

The front door locks with a click behind you, eyes flashing across the parking lot to find Eddie’s van missing. He’s likely skipped work, and you understand why he would, but all it does is curl the guilt further in your gut.

That you hadn’t done more, said more, chased after him—something.

You run upstairs to your apartment, grabbing your things and rummaging about, trying to make it look some semblance of normal before you grab your pocketbook in hand and rush over to your wall phone, dialing one of the first numbers in your phone book.

Max picks up on ring number two.

Your breath shudders out as you ask, “Is Eddie there?”

“He was, but not anymore,” she says honestly. You can hear her shuffle around on the other end, a huff filling the line. “He looked upset. Did something happen?

“He heard Chance and I talking.”

“Okay, and? Chance is a dick, we all know this, so what did he do?”

“He told me about March. Of eighty six.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah,” you tell her, quickly adding, “but I don’t believe him.”

You hear her huff once more, followed by the rustle of something in the distance. “Good, because whatever he told you isn’t true. He doesn’t know half of what really happened, and I doubt he ever looked into it. Which, you’d think we would have since the idiot works for the police.”

“So you know where Eddie might be?”

“He’s at Steve’s,” she says simply, like she knows, and of course she does.

He’s her brother. Minus the blood and title, of course, but her brother all the same. “I’ll be ready in ten minutes.”

“For what?”

“You’re picking me up,” she states plainly, and you almost laugh.

Almost.

But she sounds serious, and you’ve seen Maxine angry and you don’t want to be in the line of fire on the receiving end if she ever explodes.

“I’m picking you up,” you agree, swallowing thickly. “Hey, Max?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“Just…I know you’re my boss, but don’t hurt him, okay?”

“Gosh, Max—no. I…I lo—really care about him.”

“So I’ll see you in fifteen?” She says, as if she knows the exact distance between yours and the Munson’s.

And you suppose she does after all this time.

You nod, even though she can’t see you, and say, “I’ll see you in fifteen minutes.”

You’re there in twelve, the roads zooming on by as you turn and weave through the pathways that are almost second nature now. Muscle memory, because of all the time you’ve spent with them. With his family, who has, in a way, sort of become yours as well.

She’s there as she said she would be, sitting on the front step to the little home, hair billowing around her in the wind.

She drops down into your passenger seat without a word. The sound of her buckle sliding into place greets your ears, her dirty shoes kicking out before her, that delicate profile of hers set into a firm look.

“I heard what you said, you know?” She says after some time.

It’s quiet, a little lilting, her lips curling a bit at the edges. You know that look. It’s the same look she’s given Eddie after catching him in a state of disarray after a night spent making out with you like the two of you are teenagers all over again, and not twenty-three year olds with careers and rent to pay.

“What do you mean?” It’s a trap. You know it is, but you’ll give in just this once.

“I heard you start to say you love him,” she teases, tongue sticking out slightly.

It’s the truth.

It’s not a hard thing to do—falling for Eddie Munson, that is.

And still, your heart thunders away at the thought of it. For years you’ve spent trying to never form lasting connections with others. You’re in and out of places quicker than you can, never getting too close, never making those lasting ties.

And now you’ve gone and tied yourself to him, a single strand, an invisible string that tethers you to him.

It’s terrifying, and still there’s this sense of peace that fills your blood. Cool it before it can sizzle and burn.

“You definitely said it,” she says once more, as if you didn’t hear her the first time.

But you did. You said the words and you heard her, but she’s not the first person you want to say them to.

The person who deserves them the most is currently hiding out at Steve Harrington’s home, likely reliving the pain of the events of two years ago, exposed like a nerve by someone who only wants the worst for you.

You suppose you can’t fault Chance, either. You saw the pain in his eyes. The grief over the loss of his friends.

Three.

Three in a lifetime is already too much, but three in one week is a tragedy.

There’s no denying that fact.

‘He doesn’t know half of it…’

Max’s words swirl in your mind. Over and over again on an endless loop.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, but there’s a slow smirk sliding across your lips, fingers curling around the steering wheel as you peel out of the Munson’s driveway, heading in the direction of Steve Harrington’s family home.

It’s on the way that Max starts to talk, warning you in a sense, of what you’re about to hear.

“It’s…a lot to take in,” she says, and there’s a seriousness in her tone unfamiliar to you.

She’s usually always meddling with the kids, the rowdier and more hot headed one of the bunch. You’ve seen her interact with her friends, always just as fiery and explosive as her friends. You’ve seen her get angry with Eddie till her face turns red. But there’s always this sense of ease that accompanies it.

A laugh at the end of a snide remark, a smirk, a gentle tilt of the lips.

It’s not present this time, and an uneasiness settles into your blood.

“Just…when they tell you, promise me you’ll keep an open mind. You’re going to hear things that sound impossible, and that’s because honestly even we thought they were, but it’s…the truth. It’s the truth that the media swallowed up, the truth the government hid. But it doesn’t make it not real—it doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. And it’s crap because the world moved on, and yet we were left to deal with it.”

She means your friends.

You know that.

The fact that this ‘they’ she speaks of telling you this tale is the same group of kids that you’ve grown to know, your friends you’ve flourished with all these months, the man you’re falling in love with.

“Max, I just want to know the truth. So whatever you all say, I’m here to listen. I want to know. It’s important that I know,” you tell her seriously, pulling into the driveway to the sprawling home.

Your head slams against the headrest of your driver’s seat, hands coming up to cup over your eyes. Your breath draws right in your lungs, eyes burning from the prick of tears. A new fear dawns, unwanted and unbidden.

You voice it, a quiet strain of your voice that comes out as a broken sob. A fearful questioning of, “What if he doesn’t want to see me? What if he hates me?”

“He couldn’t,” she tells you, voice stern.

“What if he does, though? You didn’t see the way he looked at me. He was there, but he wasn’t. It’s like he went away in his mind and he didn’t want me there.”

She chuckles. “Have you seen the way that idiot looks at you? It’s honestly disgusting. All puppy dog eyes and goo.” You break out into a watery laugh and, satisfied, she continues, “Look—Chance’s friends…well, not Chrissy, but Chance’s friends are assholes. I’m not saying they got what they deserved, because no one deserves to die. But they were terrible to him. He probably saw Chance and saw you and thought he’d turned you against him. Just like they turned the whole town against him in eighty six.”

There are no words that come to mind after what she says. After the truth she reveals. You’re not sure of what it even means, and yet you think of your customers in your early days or the shop opening. The way some, however rarely, would look at him and mutter amongst themselves when he happened to stop by. You remember the woman at the supermarket with her blonde hair and haunting eyes. The depth of her warning as she stood beside you on line at the register, telling you Eddie wasn’t a good man, telling him he should have never come back.

You think of the fact Eddie moved out of his own childhood home to make room for Max. But you also recall how much freer he is when he’s out of town. His smiles come easier, he seems lighter…brighter, without the weight of the world resting on his shoulders.

The pieces start to slide into place, a push here, a click there. You think of your puzzle he’d brought you both for your first date, now finished and tucked away. How the image became clearer and clearer with each passing moment.

It’s the same now.

That clarity that takes shape.

The reasons why Eddie’s open in some regards, and keeps others very close to his chest. The evasions he’s had to create in his backstory with you, to protect you from the truth of it all.

To protect you from the danger of it, if what Max claims is true.

“Are you ready?” Max’s voice stirs you from your silent reverie. A quiet beckon. A soft lilt that drags you from your thoughts.

You’re not.

There’s nothing that can ever prepare you for what you are about to hear, and yet you twist the key in the ignition all the same. You tug your keys free and toss them into your pocketbook, opening your car door without another word. Max tips her head over the roof of your vehicle, looking to you for reassurance…or merely to see how you’re doing—you’re not really sure. But you dip your head all the same, shutting the door into place, fingers trailing along metal and window, heart racing in your chest at what you are about to enter into.

The walk to the front door is harrowing. You don’t really know what to expect. Max gives you a warning, sure, but nothing compares to reality. Especially not as you knock on the front door and Robin is there to greet you. She offers a kind smile and a hug, her voice quiet as she mutters she’s happy you’re both there. Max glances over her shoulder as you enter the home, your eyes trailing the insides. You’ve been here multiple times, but it feels different now. There’s a whole world you’re not privy to—a world that Eddie’s been a part of, Max and Robin, Steve and the others. The world that those who warned you of this town only spoke of as if they were conspiracies. The gates of hell, satanic cults, gruesome deaths. The fact there are some truths there weighs heavily on your mind, hands shaking a bit as you enter the kitchen and Steve is there to greet you with a warm hug.

You wonder briefly if Charlotte knows. If she’s privy to the world outside of your own that your friends have dealt with. This unshakeable strength they all seem to hold. But you hug him all the same, heart hammering away against his as your arms come to wrap around his neck, his breath a comforting puff against your ear. He steps back momentarily to look at you, all long dark hair, wrinkles high against his forehead. He’s too young for those, but they linger all the same, written into his features alongside the pain you see so clearly there now. The pain of the unknown swirling in your gut, the unknown that has Max reaching across the space between you to curl her hand in your own, squeezing tight.

You squeeze her hand back and look at both your friends as they stand before you, merely basking in silence, all your minds a swirling mass of chaos. Robin speaks first, voice wobbly, words fast and disconcerting in your ears. “He’s…he’s not doing well, babe. He came here a wreck. He never intended for you to find out this way.”

You know that. You do.

It’s why you’ve always been respectful. It’s why you’ve always been weary of what Eddie wants, why you’ve made it a mission to always have an open heart and open mind toward him. And in a few moments Chance had thrown it all into the wind. Obliterated the safety net you were forging, the space you wanted Eddie to live in—to thrive in.

“Max…she warned you, right?” It’s Steve who asks next. The boy with the loud and boisterous personality, always a little piqued, and yet he’s serious now. Guarded toward his best friend. Your heart swells because Eddie has people like these; people who will defend him tooth and nail, even from you.

Even from the woman who has spent nearly every day with him for the past few months.

And still, you nod all the same, your hand still entwined with Max’s. “Max…she warned me.”

Steve and Robin pass one another a look, and you’re brought into the living room. It’s dark there, the lights dimmer than you remember, your friends settling down in different areas about the room. Steve and Robin to the couch. Max on the floor. There are two seats brought out into the living area, set there like they were expected to be there all along. Separated by a few inches sure, but placed there with intent. You glance down at the one, wondering if it’s meant for you, and catch the stiff nod from Steve as you eye the wood carefully.

You drop down into it and hear the slow slide of a door in the distance, the tall form of Eddie catching your eye.

He’s as beautiful as you saw him last. A picture of black, red and white before your eyes. His eyes dark, his shoulders hard, body lithe and lean. You think of those moments from early this morning, his arms around your waist, chest against your back. Lips at your ear as he whispered what you meant to him, as he kissed you like you were the most precious thing in his life. Unbreakable, like he meant to keep you. Like he meant to hold you safe for the rest of his days. You know he means it now, can see it in the way his eyes flicker as they meet yours, as water clouds those swirling depths of chocolate brown.

There’s love there.

It’s not lost on you as he scans the room and lands on yours, holding for a moment, whispering those unspoken words into the space between you.

Unmistakable and yours alone.

You will the same into your eyes as he settles down beside you, legs spread wide, cup of whatever he’s drinking poised at the ready in his hand.

He says nothing. Remains stoic as Steve and Robin straighten in their seats, cushions of the couch forgotten as their elbows lean onto thighs, ready to regale their tales of this world outside their own.

The part of you that’s grown to love him over these months wishes to reach out to him. You want to stretch your hand into the space between you and curl your fingers within his own. To comfort him in the way you know only you can—body, mind and soul. But he remains in the gap between you, separated by inches that feel like miles. There’s a moment, however brief, when his fingers twitch against his thigh and you wonder if he intends to reach across and touch you.

But he never does.

He never does, and you suppose you cannot be upset with him for that.

He’s hard lines, harsh beauty, and adamant walls.

Impenetrable.

Fierce.

You pray they don’t remain that way—that your months of progress don't reverse in a moment's time.

Steve glances about the room, between his best friend Robin beside him, down to where Max sits staring at Eddie on the floor, Eddie with his grim expression as his eyes meet hers, and then lastly on you when he exhales and says, “What we’re about to tell you, you can’t tell anyone. It stays a secret, it stays within the group.”

“It stays within the party,” Max adds, shifting away from Eddie’s stare enough to look at you. “It’ll mean you’re part of it.”

“One of the family.” Robin laughs weakly, passing you a sympathetic smile. “Part of our dysfunctional family.”

Your eyes shift amongst them with a swallow, and then slide briefly to Eddie’s. There’s…there's something there. A softness, a quiet whisper behind his gaze, but you don’t know what it means. Can’t decipher the meaning behind how he looks at you; you just know it curls deep within the pit of your belly, makes you warm, reminds you it’ll be okay.

Everything will be okay.

“I’ll take it with me to the grave,” you tell Steve.

His hand cards through those long strands of dark hair and he stands up from the couch, walking across the room to tend to the fire churning in the fireplace. Once he’s happy with the flames sparking and dancing within, his hand comes to rest on the ledge, his other hand resting on his hip as he glances down at a dirty spot on the carpet.

“I guess we’ll start from the beginning then…”

And it begins.

*

They start from the beginning. With the missing boy Will. With Will, who you know and works at your shop. Kind, sweet Will with the world on his shoulders and nothing but love inside his heart.

Steve recounts the loss of Barbara Holland, a friend of Nancy’s. You learn about the gate that opened in Hawkins to another world. This Upside Down that sounds as harrowing as it truly is.

You learn early on that El has superpowers. She has psionic capabilities, can lift things with her mind, step into alternate dimensions when she goes away in her mind.

El, with her dark hair and bright soul. That innocence that always seems to burn bright behind her gaze.

El, who you learn has fought monsters bigger than her.

Steve walks you through that first encounter with the Upside Down, the demogorgon he faced, his words careful as he explains the appearance to you. A standing, hulking monster, with endless rows of teeth, intent to bring death to those that encounter it.

You’re told about their next encounters.

Max moves to town with her family. Her crappy step-father, her late step-brother, and her late mother move in and immediately she’s thrown into this world she’s never planned for. Apparently Dustin finds some sort of tadpole creature that eventually grows into a demodog. Another monster like the one Steve explained earlier, but this time there are multiple, and they move in what seem to be packs. You learn about Will’s possession by the Mind Flayer, the loss of their friend Bob, their first experience with the ‘hive mind.’

“It all sort of…works in tandem,” Max clarifies. “All tied to one power source.”

El closes the gate this time, they tell you, and for a while it seems everything is okay again. They start to heal, the kids begin to go back to their normal lives, Steve and Robin start working at the Starcourt Mall.

“That parking lot that’s still empty?” It’s your first question in a while, you’ve simply been taking in everything they have to say, trying to be respectful of their experience.

“Yes,” Robin says, frowning as Max glances down at her shoelaces.

Eddie watches the younger girl like a hawk. His face is tight and drawn as Max says, “My brother didn’t die in a fire.”

It’s July and the kids are on summer break. All is well in Hawkins. They’re having fun, being kids, living for the first time in a long time. And then there’s the issue of Billy. Billy, who has always been rough around the edges. Not a good person at all, from what you’ve been told, but he had been alive and had been well one day, and then the next it was like he was different.

Max recalls him being a lot of blank stares in his room, a lot more standoffish. But there becomes this issue around Hawkins, of people becoming aggressive, something to do with kitchen chemicals? And a girl at the pool Billy worked at had gone missing.

Heather, Max explains.

As this is all going on, Steve and Robin explain their encounters with Russian code and their involvement with a secret organization taking place quite literally inside the belly of the mall.

There’s a Mind Flayer building an army, some gigantic beast of a thing, that towers over the building. The same thing that had put itself inside of Will, the same thing that also puts itself inside of Billy.

Your head spins with it all, from the explanation of how Robin and Steve were tortured for information inside the Russian base, to Max and the other kids fighting this monster inside of their friend Hopper’s home. There’s the battle at the Starcourt Mall, when they’re all later reunited, where Max watched her brother die after laying his life down to protect her and her friends.

It’s overwhelming.

Your chest aches, and you’re grateful when Eddie calls the meeting to a halt, catching the glittery tears on Max’s cheeks that she tries to swipe away when no one is looking.

Eddie slips out of the room with the younger girl in tow. There’s a brief moment he makes eye contact with you, his mouth working slowly like he anticipates saying something before thinking better of it.

It’s been only hours and yet you feel like he’s been gone longer, the sting of the emotional distance between you two burning deep in your chest.

*

“Babe, don’t take it personally, okay?” Robin runs a hand up and down your arm, pouring you a glass of something strong and full of ice.

Your face pinches as you take a sip, throat burning from the harsh bite of whatever she’s put into the concoction. “What is this? Battery acid?”

“Very likely,” Steve muses from the doorway, coming to loop an arm around your shoulders. You lean into his side, seeking out the comfort of a friend in the moment. His fingers curl around your skin, giving you a squeeze. “They went for a walk. Eddie said they’ll be back in five. The next part…it’s Eddie’s bit. It’s what happened back in March and…it’s a lot. He’s never really shared it outside of the group. He wanted to tell you before…you know, before Chance. He told me he wanted to. He was finally ready.”

Your heart clenches at the thought. Here Eddie was, ready to open up to you fully and bare his soul to you, and Chance came along to throw a wrench into the whole thing. Robbed Eddie of the opportunity that was meant for him all along.

“I just…a whole world underneath Hawkins?” Your throat swells around the words, around the reality of what you’ve been told the past few hours.

Before you came here, you heard all these ludicrous rumors about the happenings of the small town you were running to. To know they’re fact, to know they’ve been hidden behind lies and government workings—it’s a crazy reality to swallow. A world where monsters exist and walk the earth, a world where gates to new dimensions exist.

It’s your world now.

“And El—having powers?”

Robin comes forward to join you on your other side, sliding a hand into the center of your back. “I felt the same when I found out.”

You feel the need to sit. To really soak in the words swirling around in your brain like little specks of confetti twirling to the ground. Dozens of strands of thoughts in an endless funnel of wind and disarray. But you lean into the warmth of your friends instead, relishing in their closeness, when the glass door to the outside slides open and Eddie and Max reappear.

She’s a little red in the face. Bitten and kissed by the wind, but the rims around her eyes catch your attention next. The telltale sign she’s been crying, paired with that of her sleeve dragging along the bottom of her nose, bumping her glasses that always sit a little too loosely on her face.

Eddie’s dark eyes scan your face, like he’s shocked you’re still there, and you pass him a weak smile. There’s the barest of twitches in his face, and most would miss it, but he offers you that.

A slight smile.

You’ll take it.

“Are we good to keep going?” Robin asks, glancing about the room.

“Yeah, we’re good,” Eddie says, and it’s the first time you’ve heard him speak in hours. It jolts you, drawing a wince out of him.

Robin turns back to you, eying your drink in your hand as the others head back into the living area. “You might want to keep that close.”

She’s not wrong.

Eddie’s fingers toy with the silver of his rings, twirling them round and round low against his knuckles. “So, uh, it’s March…of eighty six and, you know, I’m still the Freak around town. So you can imagine I’m just a tad confused when Chrissy Cunningham, the Queen of Hawkins High, comes to me for a deal.” His eyes flash to yours, a grimace pulling at his mouth. “Used to deal. Don’t anymore, but—I, ah, yeah, sorry sweetheart. But Chrissy is not herself. I didn’t really know her much, but she’s just perpetually happy. I mean, I guess she had to be. Cheerleading captain, about to be valedictorian, friends with everyone. So I meet her in the woods behind the school and she looks scared as shit. Like—maybe I should have paid more attention to it, maybe that was my mistake, but…she asks me for ketamine.”

You train your eyes on Eddie as he speaks. He’s a shadow before you, hollows of his features glowing from the orange hue spilling from the mouth of the fireplace. He’s all long limbs spread out, legs before him, slender and spidery, bent as his back rests against the wooden chair. His hands rest against his thighs, where he continues to twirl the metal around his digits, head bent low and mind seemingly back in the forest that day in eighty six.

“I…brought her back to my trailer that night and I couldn't find the ketamine. So I leave her in the damn living room and when I come back she’s just standing there. Blank face, nothing behind her eyes, just gone. And I’m yelling at her over and over and over again, but whatever this thing is that’s pulling at her just…she never hears me. I wonder if she did, even now. Like if she knew I was trying to save her and—” He pauses as your hand curls around his kneecap, and you worry for a moment he’s going to push you away, to reject this comfort, but his hand slides over your own and squeezes lightly.

He doesn’t let go.

What he explains next has your throat closing around the truth of it. Chance’s words swirl in your ears. The fact Jason Carver, fueled by jealousy over being cuckolded by Eddie Munson, killed his girlfriend. But the reality is that much more horrifying. Because Eddie recounts the moments with ultra clarity, the memory of them burned into his retinas for the rest of his life, of the girl levitating above the ground. The way her body stretched across the ceiling as her bones snapped one by one in her body, before she died right before his eyes.

“We all met…that next day,” Max says with a bitter laugh, gesturing between Eddie and the rest of the group, including herself.

So they were bound by the untimely death of Chrissy, Steve explains, recalling how they all went looking for Eddie with Dustin’s help, because Max had seen flickering lights coming from Eddie’s trailer and disrupting her own, just before he had run.

A sign of the Upside Down. Their first sign that Eddie had been innocent in all of it.

“Held a glass bottle to my throat,” Steve laughs as he explains those tense few moments of their ‘friendship.’

“You kind of deserved it. Jabbed me right in the ribs with that oar,” Eddie says, but there’s a lightness to his tone reserved for his loved ones. “His name was Vecna. This…thing, this person, responsible for cursing Chrissy. And…Fred, Patrick, and Max.”

Your eyes flicker up to Max at Eddie’s admission, blue eyes flashing with your own. “Max.”

“The asshole cursed me,” she says simply. “So what happened to Chrissy, what happened to Fred, we knew was likely coming my way. And it did—but we found a solution.”

“Thank goodness for that Walkman,” Robin exhales. “We found that music could bring people out of Vecna’s…soupy mind trance. Happy memories, favorite moments, your favorite song.”

“The song you could listen to over and over again on repeat…” You mutter the words out, feeling your eyes burn at the memory of Eddie asking you for yours so many weeks ago in your apartment.

“What’s your favorite song? If you had to pick one, what would it be? The one you can play over and over again and never get bored of?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says softly, the words meant only for you. Your stomach twists painfully. “That one.”

Proof he cared, even then.

It’s a race against a clock.

It’s not long before Eddie’s a suspect in the murders he never committed, and it’s paired with the looming threat over Max’s life. One night in particular, Robin tells you, Jason Carver and his friends find Eddie at the boathouse and come with weapons in hand. You know their intention, from the way Eddie’s breath catches, was never to merely talk about the situation.

Hunt the Freak, he tells you bitterly, recalling those moments out on Lover’s Lake, just before Patrick suffered the same fate as Chrissy.

Two.

Eddie watches two people die that week.

You shudder out a breath as they tell you about the Upside Down. As Steve tugs the neck of his sweater down enough to show you the lines around his throat, and then slips up the side of his sweater enough to show you the scarring on his side that looks like a splash of sun against his skin. It reminds you of the ones that litter Eddie’s arms, the smaller ones on his face and neck, the ridges of his abdomen you barely felt before he pulled away from you.

“We’re, like, the most screwed up blood brothers to exist,” Steve says bitterly, his shirt dropping down into place. “Matching scars and all.”

“Demobats,” Robin explains, shuddering at the end. “Scary little shitheads.”

It paints a picture for you—clearer now than ever before.

Fills the gaps in your understanding over these nine months.

Yet another memory flashing behind your eyes of Eddie in your kitchen. Of wings and claws and the sound of skittering against your window. The choked breath from Eddie’s lungs that suddenly stopped working. The panic attack he suffers in your kitchen.

You think you start to grasp an understanding as they talk about how a plan began to form. They gathered a bunch of weapons with the intention of using Max and Eddie and Dustin to create distractions for Vecna. To give enough time for the others to try and kill him. But even the best laid plans go to hell—and it’s proven correct in both aspects.

Eddie and Max, to make things simpler, both die that night.

Max, with her limbs broken and mangled, blood dripping from her eyes. And Eddie, with his flesh torn into over and over again, countless rows of teeth sinking into skin, taking pieces of him, ripping him into ribbons, robbing him of life.

It chokes you. Chokes Eddie as Steve explains the parts of the story Eddie’s mouth can’t work around. The gaps are still too raw to fill in by himself. You don’t blame him.

You press the heel of your palm into your eyes, feeling Eddie’s fingers tighten around your own, the severity in his gaze making the room come crashing around you.

“Eddie never…he never murdered any of those people,” Max says, but you know that.

You’ve known that.

In the end, Eddie spends a few weeks in the hospital.

Max spends months there.

His name is cleared relatively swiftly. Steve is a bit cagey as to how they manage to get Eddie’s name pulled from any further headlines, but you know it’s because there was nothing to hold together a case against him.

Jason is suddenly the blame for the events that occurred, and laid to rest on that March day.

It’s a lot to process.

The room feels heavy with it, thick in a way that reminds you of honey. Sticky, yet missing all that sweetness.

Steve suggests you all stay for the night. Get some rest. Recount the stories in the morning.

It’s been hours and every inch of your body aches from work and your eyes feel tired, burning with the unshed tears lingering on your lash line.

Steve lets you borrow some of his things, an oversized sweatshirt, some pants you need to roll up multiple times, and leads you and Eddie down the hall of the second story to the home, pausing in front of a bedroom.

“It’s a guest room,” he says, gesturing inside. “We’ll talk more in the morning. Goodnight, you two.”

It’s normal for you to expect mirth or a deeper scheme behind Steve’s eyes. The sense of teasing there that you’ve grown to know and love, and yet standing before that bedroom in the lonely hall has you unsure of where to look, Steve only whistles and shifts awkwardly before leaving you to your solitude. Neither of you speaks for a time, bodies shifting in the darkness, not touching and awkward.

This morning you had been curled as tight as two could be, your spine to his chest, your thighs to his, those strong arms of his wrapped around your waist, his chin over your shoulder, lips to your ear.

“I’ve never felt this way about anyone before,” he whispered.

Your heart stuttered. Faltered from the weight of what he was saying. Your fingers slid up to curl into his hair, his face leaning into your touch. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before either, Eddie.”

It was the truth then, it’s still the truth now, and yet there’s a chasm that grows wider by the second in that hallway, and for fear of watching it grow anymore, you take the initiative and push past the man to slip inside the guest room.

Neither of you speaks as you move about the room and take in your surroundings. There’s a simple dresser in one corner, a lamp on a stand that sits in another, and there’s only one bed.

One.

It’s a thought that might have thrilled you some other time, and now it only fills you with a maelstrom of emotions. In the past few hours your conversations have been reduced to sparing words, your touches to brushes of fingers. And now there’s a silence that screams between you, those murky depths curling and lapping at your ankles.

You drop your borrowed clothes onto the bed, glancing over your shoulder to where Eddie stands awkwardly in the doorway. The fullness of his form is outlined in golden light emanating from the hall, those dark eyes of his searching.

“You can take the bathroom,” you tell him, “I’ll tell you when I’m done and you can come out.”

He’s seen you in nothing but a pair of jeans before, yet somehow changing around him feels more intimate. Especially with the disquiet between you two. So there’s no protests on his part as he reaches into the side dresser, as if he’s done this before, and snatches a pair of pants and a shirt from within. He opens his mouth to speak and you feel your soul soar for a moment, before he’s snapping it shut again and slipping inside.

When the door clicks shut, you let out a shaky breath and change in silence.

*

Eddie knocks on the bathroom door moments later, your voice beckoning him out when you’re finally and fully dressed again. You’re moving about and folding your original clothes up onto the dresser when he moves to go sit down on the bed and you maneuver around him to get ready for sleep.

He watches you in silence as you wash your face and brush your teeth, wiping down the countertops after, a habit from working at Sunshine Coffee for so long now. You know why you’re really doing it, though. It’s a temporary distraction from the deeper issue at hand: the rift between the two of you.

Sighing, you slip back into the bedroom and walk around to the opposite side of the bed closest to the lamp and slide underneath the covers. Eddie watches, still upright, as you turn onto your side and reach over, asking if you can shut the light.

“Uh…yeah, yeah that’s fine,” he says softly from behind you, and the room drowns in darkness.

You pinch your eyes shut to try and get some rest, chest aching, heart clanging like a damn cymbal, but your mind only spins. You’re certain you’ll find no rest tonight, only the dizzying free fall of your wandering thoughts.

That is, until the bed dips beside you and you feel Eddie pull back the covers, sliding down against the mattress to rest a head on the pillow beside you. You feel his hand accidentally brush your hip and from behind you a following, “Sorry,” that spills through his lips.

You laugh, because it just feels so silly.

You’re not mad at him, but there’s still this disturbance hanging in the air. The worry to push him beyond his boundaries, beyond what he feels comfortable with now after sharing his past with you. If he wants to remain in silence, you want him to remain in silence. You want whatever he wants—whatever he needs at the moment.

“What’s that?” Eddie asks, his voice tight.

“Nothing…I just—nothing.”

He doesn’t speak for a bit. Only settles down far enough on the other side of the bed you can feel the heat radiating from him, but not even the ghost of touch from his form.

A beat of silence passes.

And then—

“Sweetheart, I hate this.”

Your head nuzzles further into your pillow, voice a little shaky as you whisper back, “What do you mean?”

“I left earlier because I thought the worst. I thought—I thought you believed him. Wouldn’t be the first time someone was turned against me,” he says a little breathlessly. Jason. Jason did that. And the ramifications of it are still present to this day; you’ve seen it first hand. “That was dumb as shit for me to think. I…I wanted to tell you. I was going to, he just beat me to it first. Should have come from me, should have been sooner, should have—”

“Eddie, it’s okay.”

“It’s not, though.”

“Seriously it’s—”

“I’m sorry. I’m really really sorry,” he says, and you shatter.

Eyes flush against your cheeks, lashes dancing along the topmost points of your cheekbones, you mutter, “There’s nothing for you to apologize for. At all. I need you to understand that.”

“Then why aren’t you talking to me? You’re all the way on the other side of the bed. You won’t even look at me.”

“Because I know how hard tonight was and I didnt want to push you. Eddie, what you told me tonight…it’s important and it’s huge and the fact you’ve trusted me with it means everything to me. But I also want you to take the time you need. Process what you’re feeling and all of that.”

“You’re doing that thing again.”

“What thing?”

“Where you’re too nice,” he says. “I just want to hold you.”

“Then hold me, Eddie. You never need permission to hold me,” you whisper back, sighing as his arm comes to loop around your waist and tug you flush against his chest. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?”

Your fingers drag slowly around his bare forearm, feeling gooseflesh pimple the surface of his skin. “For what happened. For what Chance did. For eighty six. For all the people who have been unkind to you. I wish they could all see what I see.”

You roll over then, seeking his face in the dark. His eyes are molten honey, soft in a way that has your fingers seeking the warmth of his chest over his tee shirt, feeling the divots and lines of his abdomen against fingertips. He’s lean and lithe and perfectly yours, with a heart that melts yours.

He just never sees it that way. But you suppose that’s what loving someone means. It's choosing them, even when they don’t choose themselves. It’s the good and bad days, not just the ones that are bright shades of orange, pinks and reds behind rose-colored glasses. It’s standing by them no matter the circumstances, supporting them fully. It’s the whole hearted acceptance that resides in your heart for him.

For who he was, who he is now, and who he will be.

“I’m happy you know now,” he says, rubbing a thumb along the bump of your chin affectionately. “I’m tired of being nervous. I’m tired of the constant looking over my shoulder and running. It’s been almost three years.”

“It takes time, Eddie.”

Your fingers reach up to cup the curve of his jaw, dancing along the scarring there. It still kills you to know he’d been broken and on the brink of death in the middle of this other world that resides beneath your own.

That he had been inches from death and still held on, only to find the world outside just as cruel as the one that nearly killed him.

“What you’ve been through—what you’ve all been through,” you start, exhaling as his forehead drops closer to your own, pressing there to linger. “It changes you. There’s no way it couldn’t. And yet you’re all still living, you’re all still loving and showing your past that it can’t rule you. You’re so brave. I don’t think you’re running anymore.”

“I don’t want to,” his fingers slide down along the slope of your face, the line of your throat, skipping along your collarbone. “You’re the first person I’ve opened up to in a long time. I’m afraid I’m going to fuck it up.”

“You’re the first person I’ve opened up to in a long time.” His hand slides down the slope of your shoulder, along your bicep. “We’re bound to make mistakes. But we get to make them together. It’s a learning process.”

“I’ve never been good at that,” he teases, chuckling lightly.

“It might be a steep learning curve, but I think we’ve got it.”

His fingers trail down your forearm, before tangling in the space between the two of you on the mattress. He lifts your hand and brings the center of your palm to his lips, presses a kiss to the center there, eyes lingering on your face.

“We’re good?” He asks against your skin, his eyes practically molten in the night.

“Yeah, we’re good.”

He sighs in relief, biting softly at the skin at the heel of your palm, earning a laugh from you. You’re about to protest when his face pushes into your collar bone and he practically drapes himself over you, his long limbs tangling with your own.

“What would your friends think knowing you’re basically a koala bear in bed?”

“I’ll deny it,” he mumbles against your skin, the outline of his smile making your stomach tumble.

Your fingers come to curl in the tangle of his dark mass of hair at the back of his head and hold him as close as he can possibly be to your frame. “I’m glad you stopped running, Eddie. I don’t think we’d have met if you didn’t. And I’m really glad we met. Really, really glad.”

His head lifts at your words, those dark eyes of his searching your face in the barely lit room. He brushes the bump of your chin again with his thumb, resting it in the dip below your lip. His eyes flicker southward, and you lean forward a bit, just as he presses his mouth to yours, silencing all other thoughts from your mind.

There’s only this moment, this bedroom sequestered away from the world, these hands holding you, this boy kissing you, whispering how much he cares for you, and your hearts full to the brim because the world lies ahead and it’s yours for the taking.

There is no more running.

*

The next morning dawns bright for a winter day.

The first official day, really.

It’s all pearlescent skies, overcast, pale clouds stretched in what looks like a blanket across it. It looks like it’ll snow, the news forecasting a foot of it just before the holidays.

It’s how you wake up beside Eddie that next morning. His arms slung low about your hips, his breath at your ear, the curtains parted enough to allow you the view of the backyard.

Your fingers dance along the tops of his hands, along the hair along his forearm.

Today feels different somehow.

Your relationship has taken a new turn. A hurdle overcome. Now there’s only a blank canvas—open spaces to fill with new memories.

Eddie also sleeps easily. The few times you’ve slept beside him he’s either not slept at all and waited for the sun to rise and you to head off to work to finally allow himself rest once the night bled into day, or has fallen asleep and woken up in the throes of a nightmare or tossed and turned in his restlessness.

Now his chest rises and falls steadily at your back, his mind quieting enough for him to do so. You shift slowly, gently enough so as to not wake him, onto your side to look up at him. He’s all smooth edges now. The wrinkle between his brows is gone, face unmarked by any thoughts warring in his mind, those pillowy lips of his parted slightly. He looks younger than his twenty three years. Your fingers trail up to touch his cheek, fingertips running along smooth pale skin, earning a sigh from the man.

A hand at your back presses you closer to him, a little ‘oof’ spilling from your lips as your face meets his chest and his head comes to rest at the top of yours.

“What day is it?” He mumbles against your head.

“Saturday. We’re both off.”

“Oh,” he hums thoughtfully. “So we have the day to do nothing.”

“No, we have the day to go shopping. You haven’t gotten any Christmas presents and we have four days until the big day,” you remind him. “We’re spending it at the Wheeler’s, remember?”

You’d anticipated spending the holidays with Eddie at the very least. Your own family was traveling to Florida to seek out warmer weather instead of the bitter cold of Hawkins. Had brushed off your invitation with a simple, “Next time, honey.”

Nancy’s invitation came later. She’d cornered you at a get together over at Steve’s and said she’d really like you to come. That her house was more than large enough and that her parents were looking to have everyone get together. The more the merrier.

You were over the moon about it. Your first real “family” holiday season.

He only groans.

“It’ll be fun. We’ll spend the whole day together wrapping gifts and watching movies.���

“With Max.” He says it like he doesn’t enjoy her company, but you know he doesn’t mean it.

“Yes, with Max. She has shopping to do as well.”

He huffs out a laugh that warms your skin. “We have vastly different ideas of fun.” He pushes back just enough to drop a kiss to your forehead, before shifting up onto his elbows. “We should probably head downstairs soon. I hear them moving around in the kitchen. They’ll be looking for us.” He leans down to press his lips into the curve of your neck, sighing. “Just wanna stay here instead.”

For emphasis, he drops back down and hugs you tight, resting his head against your collar bone.

In the end, you win out, managing to extricate Eddie long enough to dress and ready for the new day. In the kitchen, Steve stands over the stove, working up some breakfast, while Max and Robin sit at the kitchen table, faces impassive as the two of you slip back into the room. When they notice the way his hand brushes your back as he slides a chair out and you move to take a seat, the mild discomfort fizzles and conversation resumes.

“Did you two sleep well last night?” Steve asks, waving his spatula like a sword for emphasis. “It’s almost ten.”

“Like a baby, Harrington.”

You snort at Eddie’s words, thanking Max as she hands you and Eddie steaming cups of coffee just as she knows you like them. You thank her, smiling warmly.

“You two kiss and make up? Because I’m not about to spend the day with you two pouring at each other non stop,” Max asks, nonplussed.

You choke a little on your coffee.

Eddie’s face hardens.

“Red.”

“What?”

She shrugs, biting into a strawberry as Steve starts shoveling breakfast onto everyone’s plates.

Your chest warms.

*

In the end you manage to get all the shopping you need to do finished.

It’s not without its struggles, however.

Max and Eddie separate are two different storms.

Max with her fiery, sometimes explosive energy. Not to mention that deadpan that endears you to her, her open opinions, the brashness in which she lives her life.

And then there’s Eddie. Charismatic and explosive like her, all frenetic energy as he moves in and out of stores, looking for the perfect gifts for those he cares about most.

She urges him to hurry up, he barks back at her to let him think.

It’s a constant back and forth that has you both amused and frightened, because you’re never quite sure if they’re seconds away from fighting in the mall. Onlookers question if the two of them are okay, to which you mutter back “siblings” and they nod in understanding, like they know exactly what that implies.

And later, as the three of you return to his dimly lit apartment, illuminated only by the Christmas tree the two of you lovingly decorated together, you bask in the warmth of their familial bond. The way the two of them curl up together on the couch watching The Grinch Who Stole Christmas as you work on putting together something to eat for dinner. Every so often you glance over your shoulder, catching the way Eddie’s arm curls around the younger teen, how she seeks out his warmth.

It dawns on you—the depth of this moment. These two souls are so willingly open to allow you into their lives. Into their hearts. It’s taken time, months really, and the fact they trust you wholeheartedly now is not lost on you. You’ve never had a close family. Always absent, leaving you to your own devices.

You understand Max and Eddie are a family now, bound by unexplainable trauma, and yet they are family all the same. And in a way, though you wouldn’t voice it to them right now, watching them from afar like this…them allowing you into the safety of this moment…it almost feels like family for you, too.

This overwhelming sense of belonging that curls around your insides, makes them warm, brings a wave of tears to your eyes. Eddie catches the glitter on your lashes, untangling himself from Max just as you dip your head into your shoulder, ladle spinning through your freshly made sauce, trying to hide yourself from his sight.

“Hey, hey. Don’t you hide from me,” he urges, tapping at your cheek, earning a watery laugh from you.

“‘M fine,” you mumble, sniffling noisily. The tears recede and lift your gaze to his to prove it to him, but Eddie remains at your side, curling an arm around your hip to drag you close. “Really, I promise.”

He presses his forehead into your cheek. “Let me see that smile.” You snort as his lips smack a kiss there, loud enough to draw Max’s attention.

You hear her scoff, her drawl of distaste, but there’s a smile on her face all the same.

“Just feeling really happy is all,” you reassure him, a smile sliding onto your face.

He slides a hand down your arm and curls his fingers into your own, squeezing your tangled digits. “I know what you mean.”

The three of you eat your chicken parmigiana in comfortable silence, Eddie only groaning every so often in enthusiasm over the fact he’s being fed. You snort, knowing very early on in your friendship that the best way to Eddie Munson’s heart was through his stomach.

Later, it’s Max and you sitting at the kitchen table wrapping gifts as you walk Eddie through baking a tray of cookies. You’ve already successfully wrapped the gifts you all got for Wayne, as well as the smaller gifts for the kids and your friends. Eddie had told you he’s terrible at wrapping gifts, at which you had told him it’s not about the wrapping but the fact love was put into the package. But he reassures you all the same he’ll be better put to use doing something else. So you’d set him up with some baking supplies in his small kitchen, and gathered things for you and Max to get started with.

“Small round circles,” you tell him, watching his fingers hesitantly roll dough within his palms, now bare from their usual rings.

“He’s really got the easier job,” Max grumbles.

She’s been…struggling, to say the least. Every so often she curses under her breath when a tab of tape gets stuck to her fingers instead of the package, or she doesn’t have enough paper to cover a box because she underestimated. You try to assist her as much as she’ll allow, but she reassures you over and over again she’s fine (she’s not) and that she doesn’t need help (she does).

“Why is that, Red?” Eddie asks, the line of flour on his cheek a slash of white against his face.

And there on the table, in a mess of crinkly red paper and endless tabs of tape keeping things positioned in place, lies one of Lucas’ gifts.

She holds it up with an uneasy laugh and Eddie tries to hide his own chuckles into the lip of his coffee cup.

It’s not perfect, no, but this moment is.

*

The Wheeler’s truly go all out for the holidays. Upon entering their home, Eddie’s palm in your own, your eyes are drawn to the endless holiday decorations. Their tree is dressed to the nines, all wide and fluffy branches, glowing lights, endless ornaments that twinkle against green branches.

There are lights twined around all the railways and banisters, illuminating the room in a pale glow. There are centerpieces on all their tables, little candles with tiny wreaths around the bases, the smell of pine filling your nostrils as you take a turn about the place.

Karen Wheeler is there in a flurry, ready to take your jackets. “I hope the drive wasn’t too bad, sweetie,” she says to Eddie, brushing the snow from his shoulders.

It’s been snowing all afternoon. A few inches now blanket the streets of Hawkins, and though it did provide for a harder drive, you find that it only adds to your experience in town with the people you love. A true white holiday season.

Last year you’d been somewhere tropical, in a bathing suit on the beach, sipping a margarita funded by your parents. Now Karen moves about you and helps you slip out of your jacket, coming around front to look at you, a giant smile blooming across her face.

“You’re a doll! Eddie, she’s so beautiful.” She turns to him, then glances your way. “Come on in. Be a dear and help me with the table, would you? Nancy, your friend is here!”

It’s not long before you’re put to work, setting up table placements, smiling and waving every time another arrival comes through the front door.

Dinner is warm and bright. Full of laughter, full of quiet conversation and guests asking to pass the pasta, a roll, the chicken. It’s memories told about the kids through the years, Hopper regaling you with moments that make El flush deep scarlet in embarrassment. It’s Max leaning into Eddie when she grows a little morose, and him curling an arm around her shoulder to whisper against her ear because he knows what she’s feeling. It’s Wayne crying later when Eddie gives him a new mug that says “World’s Best Dad” and Max rushing over to tackle you and Eddie when you give her the tickets to a concert she’d been talking about taking Lucas to.

All around the room people pass around gifts, room full, hearts fuller.

Charlotte and Steve slip away after a while to go kiss beneath the mistletoe, Nancy and Jonathan hold one another close on the couch, Robin and Vickie glance lovingly at one another as Vickie holds a new sweater up to her chest.

The kids thank Karen for their new socks, knitted hats, and warm mittens.

You smile as Eddie slides your new necklace around your neck, a locket with a picture of the two of you on one side, and a picture of him on the other, just so you’ll always have him close.

He kisses you and tells you his thanks over the new cassette tapes and guitar strings you'd gotten him, the new fantasy books he’s been meaning to read, and a couple of things for his new campaigns he’s been dreaming up.

“Hey, Eddie,” you tell him, as people retreat to the dessert table and dining area, leaving the living room mostly unattended.

He brushes your hair back into place and trails his finger over the locket. “Yeah, sweetheart.”

“I have another gift for you—and before you get upset, it’s little. It’s…well, here.” You slide the little pouch into his hand, the drawstrings pulled tight.

Tentative fingers move to open the little bag, dropping the item inside into his open palm. His head tilts to the side, shifting the key with a fingertip. “What’s this?”

“It’s a key. To my apartment. So you always know you’re welcome. And also because…all my life I’ve been running from reality. Bouncing between place to place so I don’t have to really get to know people. Trying to protect my heart because I didn’t want to get hurt. Never really allowing anyone to get all that close. Until I came here…and met you.”

“I’m not understanding.”

You shift closer to him where you sit on the floor, your knee brushing his own as you lift the key and dangle it in the air between you two. “I thought about it. About the shop, about the friends I’ve made here, and how I feel about you and I want to stay. I’m going to stay in Hawkins.”

Home.

You’re finally home.

And the slow smile that starts to spread across Eddie’s lips as he finally understands is all you need to see to know you’ve made the right choice.

His eyes shine with the reflection of Christmas tree lights, and swim with affection for you.

Home.

You’re staying here in Hawkins, staying with him, choosing this.

So if his voice wobbles a little, you say nothing of it, because he’s glowing. “That’s…that’s the best gift you could have given me.”

You curl the key into both your hands and squeeze tight, the imprint of it cool against your skin.

But it’s the easiest decision you’ve made in a long time.

“Merry Christmas, Eddie.”

*

Hawkins feels even more like home the next afternoon.

It comes unexpectedly, as most things do, with the door blowing open from the cold winter air, bringing Eddie along with it. His head is bent down, looking at something within his jacket. You’re worried he’s hurt from the way he’s cradling his side, but what you find instead makes you pause.

Hidden within the side of his jacket is a silvery ball of fur, with a tiny button nose, two dark eyes, and a set of ears that look funny on its small head.

“Eddie, what is that?” You ask, already knowing your answer, but wanting to hear your boyfriend fess up all the same.

He tucks it closer to his side and mutters, “Nothing.” The kitten gives a tiny meow and Eddie melts, his dark eyes growing softer by the moment as one of those ringed fingers comes to rub along the furry head.

You take a step closer, glancing into his jacket to see the little one. It peers out curiously, leaning into Eddie’s side as if it knows that he’s his protector already. “It’s not nothing because it looks like a kitten. A living, breathing kitten.”

Eddie rubs the tiny head again. “That’s because itisakitten.”

“What was that?”

“It is a kitten,” he says simply, pulling the jacket away to hold the baby in front of him.

“Why is there a kitten in my apartment?” You step closer, stroking a finger along one of the too-big ears. The kitten purrs and leans into the touch.

He rubs a thumb along the tiny little spine and says, “Well, you see, I was walking over here from work and I heard this tiny little thing meowing by the dumpster. And I had to pick it up. It was calling my name.”

You pause in your gentle stroking, and the kitten's eyes pop open. “It was saying Eddie?”

He nods, and you move to rub underneath its chin. “Yes, so clearly, you should have heard it.”

“Eddie…” you warn, just as a tiny, sandpaper tongue drags along your fingertip.

You melt a little bit, and Eddie takes note.

“My apartment doesn’t allow pets. But this apartment is yours. Fully and completely yours.”

“Eddie no.” And as much as your mind screams no, the kitten stares at you and your resolve crumbles all the more.

“Look at it. How can you deny this face?” He holds the kitten up beside his face.

And you know he’s talking about denying the kitten, but the look on Eddie’s face is just as hard to say no to. All pouty lips, bit doe eyes, lashes batting at you obnoxiously.

So it really should come as no surprise to you when the two of you spend the next day at the vet with the kitten (a boy, they tell you) and then the pet store after (Eddie tells you he needs toys, though you tell him food is more important) with a very giddy Eddie who spends way more money than he really needs to to spoil his new “son.”

Later that evening, after you’ve all eaten (kitten included) you sit around on the floor as Eddie rolls a ball toward the little one and grins widely as it pats a tiny little paw against the surface until the bell inside jingles.

You’ve been like this for hours, taking turns showing the little one new things, figuring out which toys he likes best, getting him used to the two of you and his new home.

“It is really cute,” you say as it comes to curl up in Eddie’s lap, sound asleep.

“He’s really cute,” Eddie agrees, running a gentle hand along its back.

“What do we name him?”

“He was chewing on my buttons in the car. How about Chewbacca? Get it?”

You laugh, incredulous. “Chewbacca? Eddie, this is our son.”

He snorts at that. But you suppose this is your fur-child now. Both of yours.

“Yes, I understand that, and I happen to think Chewbacca is a wonderful name,” he says plainly, not quite getting the issue here.

“He doesn’t even look like Chewbacca. He’s silver.” You rub at the little head, leaning over to kiss the tiny nose.

“How about Chewy for short? Chewbacca is his full government name, though. Chewbacca Munson.”

“What if I wanted him to have my last name?”

“We can hyphen.”

“Wow, I’m surprised you compromised that quickly.”

He shrugs, leaning over to kiss you on the temple. “It doesn’t slip my mind you’re keeping him here. Thank you for indulging a childhood wish of mine to have a pet.”

You snort, but your grin is megawatt. “You’re lucky I l—like you so much.”

*

Your friends are inside, the sound of music and chatter drifting from the opened patio door. The countdown to the new year is set to start soon, but you’re staring up at the sky, Eddie’s arms low around your waist, his chin against your shoulder as the two of you stargaze. He reminds you of the constellations he’s already shown you, then starts to point out the newer ones you’re not familiar with.

You’ve been like this for a while now. Him holding you close, keeping you warm, your breaths curling in the winter air. There’s a whole party happening just feet away, and yet you’re exactly where you want to be the most.

“They’re going to be looking for us soon,” you whisper, though you find you don’t really care.

A particularly loud laugh echoes from inside, the outline of Steve and Charlotte’s forms illuminated across from you as Robin tells them a story with a wide smile on her pretty features.

She waves and you wave back, returning your eyes to the stars, to the boy who you’d believe hung them if he told you so.

“Hey, sweetheart?” His voice is quiet. Timid.

You turn around in his arms to face him, his lips a little chapped from the cold, that too-big jacket of his becoming your blanket as he cradles you in the circle of his arms.

“Yeah?”

“There was something I wanted to talk to you about. Something kind of serious,” he says, and you feel your lips tug southward. At the furrow of your brows, he shakes his head, cupping the side of your cheek with his hand. “Wait—maybe not the best wording. I, uh, it’s serious in a good way.”

“In a good way…” you repeat slowly, chewing idly at your bottom lip.

Now his brow furrows, one hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I’m not…I’m messing this up. Okay, I’m going to just come out and say it…”

“You’re worrying me,” you mutter, a little breathless, hand coming to rest over his hand comfortingly.

“I…”

“Hey lovebirds, wanna stop sucking face? The countdown starts in five minutes!” Steve shouts outside, Charlotte shushing him with a hand on his shoulder. Her giggly apology reaches your ears and the two of you turn to find them staring your way.

“Can we get some privacy?” Eddie calls back, face pinching in his frustration.

“Come on, Stevie. Leave them alone,” Charlotte agrees, tugging at his arm. “We’ll catch up later. Sorry, guys.”

The patio door slides shut once more and you’re left alone with your favorite boy. He huffs out a sigh, sliding his arms back around your form, breathing a cloud between the two of you.

You’re not expecting him to just blurt out his next sentence. Not expecting the words at all, and yet they’re the same words you’ve been holding to yourself for safe keeping, for that perfect moment like this one. The moment where it’s the two of you, overwhelmed in one another, hidden away in a stolen moment captured in time.

Because it’s New Years Eve and Eddie’s just said, “I’m in love with you.”

Because it’s New Year’s Eve and your tears prick, voice a broken sob as you whisper back, “I’m in love with you, too.”

It’s New Year’s Eve and you’re spending it with the person you want to go make countless memories with in the next three hundred and sixty five days. You want all his days, good and bad. To brave the storms should they come, to chase away his nightmares, to rejoice in the happy times. You want to wake to him in the morning and kiss him goodnight before bed. You want to dance in the kitchen as you cook together, to taste his sugar sweet lips on those days you try something new to bake. You want those new adventures, dinners with Wayne and Max, play time with Chewbacca. You want the game nights with your friends, to listen to him play Dungeons and Dragons with the kids, to go on that camping trip Steve, Robin and the others talked about come summer time.

You wanted it all, want it all, with the boy standing before you with all the love in the world behind his eyes.

“I’m in love with you,” you repeat, just as the sound of the countdown spills from inside.

Ten…

He curls a hand around your face once more.

Nine…

You brush at the hair near his shoulders, feeling him warm beneath your skin.

Eight…

He tugs you closer, always closer.

Seven…

You slide your hands into his jacket, hands resting against his back.

Six…

He tells you he’s in love with you once more.

Five…

You press your forehead to his, smiling up at him.

Four…

He glances down at you through those dark lashes.

Three…

You feel his breath dance along your bottom lip.

Two…

You wish him a Happy New Year.

One…

He kisses you as party poppers explode showers of confetti inside. Kisses you as shouts fill your ears. Kisses you until butterflies dance to life in your belly, until fireworks dance behind your eyes, and the rest of the world falls away.

It all dissolves around you, and you’re just standing there in the arms of the man you love.

Nothing else matters.

All that matters is this moment, this boy, this love.

*

It starts, you suppose, in the car ride. The atmosphere has a new heaviness, a thrill that boils in the cabin. Your fingers slide through Eddie’s, toying with the rings resting cool from the winter air against your thigh. You’re not sure what possesses you. Not sure if it’s the happiness from the evening, the weight of his confession, the way your heart feels full to burst—but it has you feeling bolder, has you slowly trailing your fingers along your opposite thigh. A slow path, a gentle up and down, over and over again.

His eyes flash to yours, linger briefly on your exposed flesh, the warmth of your skin. You catch the way his tongue dips to his lip, the pinch of his teeth against skin, before flashing back to the road. You’re almost home, only minutes now, but you’re itching for touch. For his touch in particular, warm against your skin, along the outline of your leg muscle, inside your thigh, at your center where you want him most.

You feel the first little brush of his fingers as they slip free from yours, the tantalizing trail of them, along the thigh nearest to him. A gentle drag of skin against skin, venturing higher every time. His fingertips tease the hem of your ruched satin dress, now bunched near your hip, leaving only inches between where he lingers now and your clothed center. There is a question in his eyes, a pass of chocolate brown eyes in the night as he looks your way, and you dip your head, understanding his meaning.

His fingers start a new exploration, a curious slide along your inner thigh, a gentle sweep that leaves gooseflesh in its wake. It’s unfamiliar to him and you, and yet it elicits a soft sigh from your lips, head falling back against the headrest. Taking this as all the coaxing he needs, he pushes up higher, halting at the edge of your panties. There is a brief moment where he pauses, and you wonder if he’s about to freeze up and end this before you’ve even had a chance to begin the night, but he dissuades those fears when he shifts and presses his middle finger against the spot of slick already forming against the gray material.

He curses, his eyes sliding up to the ceiling in a silent prayer, hand tightening in a white knuckle grip against the steering wheel. “Wanna touch you.”

“Then touch me, Eddie,” you breathe out, shuddering as he pushes the material to the side and slides a finger through your folds, dragging in a curious line.

It's a wonky, unpracticed pattern that he tries once…then twice, and pulls back.

“Show me. Show me what you like.”

It sounds choked.

A little gasp, a soft plea.

Understanding what he means, you reach down to join him, dragging a line down your center, swirling in the pool of slick at your entrance before circling the bead of your clit. His eyes dart from the road to where your finger starts to move in small circles, toes already curling within your heels.

He watches like that for a few moments. Captures the way your chest rises and falls with each sweep of your finger, the heaviness of your breath, the shudder of each pass of air through lungs. And it doesn’t take long before he’s replacing your fingers with his own, following the same path you’d taken. Dragging those thicker digits from your entrance up to your clit, starting the slow slide of his fingers along hot flesh, murmuring, “You look so pretty. So fuckin’ pretty, baby.”

Your answer is a hum, a broken whisper of, “Right there, Eddie. Just like that.”

You’re already close.

You feel the beginnings of your orgasm beckoning, dragged closer by your own ministrations, and swifter now with Eddie’s fuller fingers, your hand coming out to grab at his thigh. You can’t help the whine that spills from you as that heat coils higher in your belly, the rubber band pulling taut, ready to snap as he moves faster under your guidance.

Your fingers dig down where they rest against his flesh. His eyes sweep back over to you, molten and dark in the moonlight, stuttering along where he’s touching you in a way he’s never done so before. He looks at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, mesmerized by the way you look in this moment. It’s terrifying and exciting, eyes shut against the feeling. Flames lick at you as he pulls into the back of your coffee shop and parks the van. You barely register the click of his key pulling from the ignition before his mouth is on yours, face crashing into you from over the center console. You’re immediately moaning into his mouth and driving your hips up further into his hand to seek more friction as the rubber band snaps and sweet release spills into your system.

“Oh shit,” he breathes against your lips, brushing kiss after kiss along your face as your hips fall back against the seat, your eyes heavy as you try to catch your breath, looking up at him with a little laugh. “Was that good? I—”

You silence him with a kiss, whispering, “Inside,” against his skin.

He barely has a moment to lock the door before you’re grasping his hand and rushing him up the stairs, humming as the door locks close behind the two of you and you’re finally and blessedly alone. You both toe off your shoes as you maneuver your way over to the bed, connected at the mouth, hands reaching to grab at clothes, a clash of lips, tongues and teeth.

“Chewy, stay in your room. Your parents are busy!” Eddie scolds, the kitten in question already sound asleep in his little makeshift bed.

You giggle airily as the backs of your thighs hit your mattress, back falling into plush comforters as he crawls over you, walking you backward up the bed until your head rests upon your mountain of pillows.

“Say it again?” He asks, marking a path down your cheek, along your neck, pulling a whimper from you as he sucks a hickey into your collarbone.

“I’m in love with you, Eddie.”

He’s kissing you again, your head swimming with the ecstasy of the moment. It’s slower this time. Not like in the car where it’s a frantic, wild thing. There’s all the time now in the world to taste, tease and explore. His tongue sweeping low against your lip, sliding along yours, licking into your mouth with slow, languid kisses.

He moans into your mouth, a sweet thing you swallow as his body slides closer to yours, the beat of his heart a tattoo against your sternum. A frantic flutter you slide your palm up between the two of you to feel, tethering yourself to this moment—to this man.

His guitar string callused fingers drag a familiar path along your thigh, sliding your dress up higher over your hips, baring you to him once more. His fingers come to slide between your folds, still puffy from your orgasm, making you shudder and mewl against his skin. Hips move upward at the sensation, seeking friction, seeking him.

In your impatience, you fist both sides of your dress in your hands, Eddie’s hands falling away from you long enough to let you sit up and pull the material up and over your body. You feel bared to him, already nearly naked against your mattress because the dress had called for no bra lines, and a forearm moves to drape across your chest.

“Hey, hey,” Eddie coos, cupping the side of your cheek. “You’re so beautiful. There’s no need to hide with me. I love you. I love you so much, sweetheart.”

Your arm drops away and he replaces it with his lips.

This part he knows.

This part he’s practiced on you already.

One hand comes up to knead one breast, while he pastes wet kiss after wet kiss to the other, tongue laving over your flesh, sucking into supple skin until you’re bucking up against his clothed thigh, rubbing your center against the fullness of it—seeking something, anything, to satisfy the need swirling in your gut.

“Come here,” you nearly beg, curling your fingers in the hair at the back of his head, tugging him back upward to your lips. You kiss him soundly, mewling as his thigh shifts and his hips roll forward, the hardness of him rubbing just right against your core, robbing you of all air. “Missed you.”

“I’m right here,” he chuckles, fingers dancing along your thigh. “Not going anywhere.”

“Want to touch you, Eds. But only if you’re ready.”

He leans back onto his haunches above you, hair a wild mess, chest rising and falling swiftly. He looks beautiful like this, just as he always does, all dark eyes and swirling heat living in them. They’re blown out now in his desire, in a way you’ve not seen him before. Heat flares at the thought it’s meant only for you, reserved only for you at this moment, just as his fingers reach for the hem of his shirt and hesitate.

“I can shut the light,” you whisper, hand coming to smooth up and down his thigh.

You want him to be comfortable. Fully at ease in a moment you know is already nerve wracking for him. It’s his first time with you, but it’s also his first time baring himself fully to another human after what transpired two years ago. His eyes shift to the left, to a faraway spot on the wall, like he’s mulling it over.

You stretch your arm out toward your lamp when a hand curls around your wrist like a bracelet. Eddie’s voice breaks into the silence with a soft, “No, leave it.”

He reaches behind his back and tugs the shirt up and over himself, slipping it off to toss it into the far corner somewhere. He waits. Waits for you to scream and run, to push him away you’re sure, what with the way his mouth settles into a firm line, his hands shaking where they rest at his thighs.

You’re familiar with his scars. At least the ones on his face, his neck, the spattering of them along his arms. The ones that litter his torso break your heart all over again for the boy on the floor of the Upside Down. The boy who had been close to death, and lived to tell the tale. The boy with the biggest heart you’ve ever known.

You lift yourself up to sit, hand coming up to hover over his abdomen, gaze flashing up to his momentarily. “Can I?”

He dips his head once, releasing a shaky exhale as your fingers trail along the first scar along his abdominal muscles, then further up along the two smaller ones to your left.

“Do they hurt?” You feel his stomach jolt as you drift back southward again, the softness of his abdomen dancing beneath your fingertips. “Don’t wanna hurt you.”

“No, not anymore. Not for a while now,” he manages to get out, watching your fingers where they linger against him, one of his hands sliding along the crown of your head comfortingly.

His left side, just over his heart, is the worst. A ridge of patchwork done by the plastic surgeons at the hospital, all puckered flesh, hills, bumps and divots. The demobats had tried to take him from you, tried to rob you of ever knowing this man, and your eyes water as you curl your palm over his ribcage, catching the soft shudder of his breath as his eyes fall closed.

You love him.

You love him fully and completely. Even in this body he resents, because it houses his soul. And it’s his soul you long for, want to entwine yourself to, want to cherish for as long as he’ll allow you. Even in this body that he rejects because it no longer looks as it used to, because it’s this body that has held you, has loved you, respected you.

It’s him.

You’ve never loved another person like this before, this feeling of fullness that makes your head swim. It drives you to lean forward, brushing a kiss over his heart, feeling him warm beneath your touch. His hand comes up to curl against the back of your head, your head turning so your ear rests over his sternum, arms looping around his back.

“You’re beautiful,” you whisper, as those ringed fingers curl around your chin and tip your head enough for him to kiss you sweetly.

When you pull away, you hear the first whimper fall from him. A choked garble that threatens to cleave you in two. Tears slide down his cheeks, along the bump of his cheek, salty tracks you brush away with your hands.

“I’m crying during sex and we haven’t even had sex yet,” he says pitifully, sniffling loudly.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, thumbing at his scarred cheek. “It’s okay. If you want to stop, we stop. We don’t have to do this now.”

“I want to. I really want to.”

After that it’s a swirl of movement. You slide your underwear down and kick them off as he moves to clamber off the bed, fumbling with his belt buckle and struggling in the process. You jump up to help him, his hands falling to his sides, as you unhook the belt and tug it free from his jeans, letting it fall to the floor with a clatter. You toy with the button on his jeans next, earning a sharp hiss from him as the zipper slides down and you accidentally brush him beneath his boxers, heart thudding when you find him hot and hard already. Swallowing, you watch as he wiggles the jeans down his thighs and stands there in nothing more than a pair of boxers, leaning across the space to kiss you once more.

You can feel the way he trembles, nervousness bubbling as he lowers you back against the mattress, elbows on either side of your head so he can cradle you. Your fingers trail along the hem of his boxers, eliciting a sigh from him, before they slip further within and wrap around silky hot flesh. He’s thick, thicker than anyone you’ve been with. You wonder for a moment if he’ll fit as you drag your thumb along his slit, collecting the bead of precum there. The curse he lets out has you slowly moving your palm up and down his length, watching him pinch his bottom lip between his teeth, shuddering above you.

His eyes flash open then, head shaking as he reaches to grip your hand where it rests against the base of him. “Wait, wait, wait. I’m gonna blow if you do that. I’m already scared I’m only going to last ten seconds. That’ll have me tapped out in five, baby.”

You snort as he leans forward to brush a kiss against your breast, your hand falling away from him to curl instead in the comforter beneath you. Emboldened, Eddie reaches down and slides his boxers off, kicking them into one of the various piles strewn about your floor now. He pops out stiff and ready, your eyes barely having time to take in the sight of him before he’s kneeling back down onto the bed, stealing a soft kiss that has you feeling warm like honey, all sticky sweet and languid.

“Do you have a condom? I didn’t think to bring one. I wasn’t…I didn’t know we’d be doing this, not that I’m sad about it. I’m actually really happy and—”

“I’m on the pill,” you explain, and the furrow between his brows softens, head slowly nodding. “But I have some right here.”

You reach over into your bedside table and he reaches over to pull a foil from the box. You watch him open it with shaky hands, chuckling to himself as it almost falls out of the packaging.

You reach out to see if he needs assistance sliding it on, muttering as you watch him roll the condom down himself. “I got them at the store the other day.”

“Oh—well that’s good. Safety first and all of that,” he says, chuckling nervously. You shift a bit beneath him, moving up further, making room for both your bodies, as his hand marks a slow path along your ribcage. “This is where my experience stops.”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him. “I’ve got you. Just remember we have nothing but time.”

“Okay,” he says, voice a little wobbly as he lowers himself against you, grabbing himself in hand. “Are you ready?”

“I’ve been ready since we were in the car,” you laugh, making him smile as he slowly drags himself up and down through your slick, bumping your clit in a way that has your eyes clamping shut, voice hitching in a whine. “Eddie.”

He understands your breathy plea, sliding lower until his tip rests at your entrance, full and warm as he presses in slowly. You both shudder out a moan, your fingers coming up to grip his shoulder at the slight burn of the unexpected fullness of him.

He’s babbling your name into your throat, gasping at the feel of you fluttering around him, muttering how much he loves you into your neck. And you’re rolling your hips up further into him, wanting to be full of him, wanting to be as close as you’ve ever been until he’s cursing against your skin and burying himself to the hilt.

“Oh, hell. Okay. I’m inside of you.”

You snort, shoving playfully at his side as you adjust to him. “That’s typically how this works.”

He swallows thickly, hips rocking shallowly against yours. “Can I move?”

“Yeah, hon. Please.”

He starts off uneasily. Moving a little too swiftly against you as his human instinct takes its time to kick in. You grip at his shoulder, trying to steady him, gasping into his neck at the still delicious drag of him along your walls.

“Hey, Eddie,” you whimper, and his eyes pop open to look down at you.

“Oh no. Baby, I’m not hurting you, am I?” He stills inside you, hands coming to rest on either side of your face, those dark eyes round with fear.

“No…no. I just wanted to say go slow,” you whisper, mewling into his mouth as he does exactly that. Pulls back gently and rolls his hips forward in a way that has your eyes rolling back a bit, shuddering out a breath. “Y-yeah. Like that—just like that.”

“Is this good? Want it to be good for you, because—” He groans into your shoulder as your hips rise up from the bed to meet him, hands sliding up and over his back, thigh curling around his hip to keep him closer. “Shit. You feel so good. Like you were…like you were made for me.”

“You are.” You whine as he palms your breast, kissing the corner of your mouth, rocking against you in a way that has you seeing stars. If he kept going, if he kept hitting that spot over and over again—“Doing so good, Eddie. Making me feel so good, so full of you—mmmm—”

But it’s all over soon after your praises fill the room. You clamp your nails down as his shoulder as his hips move more erratically, sweat on his forehead pooling, his teeth pinching at his lip as his eyes slam shut.

“I’m close. I’m so close, I’m sorry baby—”

“It’s okay. It’s okay. Just let go, I got you.”

His thrusting grows erratic as his chest falls forward and presses you down into the mattress. You feel him give one more final snap of his hips before he comes to a halt, trembling against your form with a curse. He’s gasping as he spasms inside, riding out the aftershocks of his orgasm.

He remains against you like that for a moment, panting heavily against your skin, pasting kiss after kiss into your sternum before he finally pulls out of you with a low whine.

You gasp out a breath and slide a palm over your racing heart, watching him walk over to your bathroom to discard the condom. When he returns, he loops an arm over your waist, fingers wandering against your belly, the curve of your hip, the tops of your thighs.

You shudder out a breath as he grazes your center, asking, “What are you doing?”

“You didn’t…finish, right?”

He leans down to press the softest of kisses to your lips, the answering shake of your head all he needs before he runs a finger along your slit, a gentle drag from your entrance before following the pattern against your sensitive clit you showed him in the car.

“Eddie…” Your heel shifts to press against the mattress, thigh falling open, baring yourself fully to him. “It’s okay. Really.”

“Wanna kiss you there, sweetheart.”

You chuckle heartily at his brazenness as he starts dropping kiss after kiss along your breasts, down the line of your sternum, across your belly where he sucks a little hickey into the skin below your belly button until your chuckling against his smiling mouth, his hand coming up to curl with yours resting by your hip. He gives you a little squeeze and laces your fingers with his as he starts kissing along the tops of your hip bones, the span of skin between them that makes you gasp against your pillow, head rolling back.

He doesn’t stop the slow torture there. You’re not sure where he’s learned this, but you’re silently thanking them with a plea as his lips mark a scorching path along the insides of your thighs, his other hand curling around the meat of your leg to open you further to him, nose tickling your sensitive flesh until you’re shifting your hips against the mattress, earning a nip against the inside of your thigh.

“Eddie, please,” you whimper, breath robbed from your lungs as he finally slides the flat of his tongue from your center up to your clit, drawing a tentative circle there.

“Tell me what to do. What you like. Wanna make it good.”

“To the left. And just like that, keep doing that.”

You’re a shaking mess as his ringed hand leaves yours and joins his tongue, prodding where you want him most, and you practically cry out your “yes” as he slips a finger inside.

“Like that, like that,” you babble, hand dropping down to rest at his full head of curls. When his second finger eases in, you feel your walls clamp down around him, his answering chuckle vibrating against your sensitive flesh. “If you curl your fingers like that—ah, yeah, just like that—”

You break off into a sob as he mimics your ‘come hither’ motion, his fingers moving in tandem with his tongue in a way that has your legs shaking on either side of his head, fingers twisting tight into his curls. You’re afraid you’ve hurt him at first, whipping your hand back, but he reaches up and slides it back into place, pressing your open palm against his hair so you can tug as you teeter closer and closer toward the edge.

“I’m so close, Eddie. You’re doing so good,” you pant, white flashing behind your eyes as he crooks those fingers against the part of you that has the flame flickering in your gut burning brighter and brighter, coil growing tighter as his tongue works you, his own sighs after a particularly hard tug of his hair against your center vibrating down to the tips of your toes.

The flames dance higher.

Burn brighter.

Become all consuming as tears prick in the corner of your eyes.

Because it’s Eddie.

Eddie Munson, the man who walked into your coffee shop all those months ago. The man with the quiet soul and loud mind. The man who cracked into a smile at your silly factoids and your ridiculous jokes. The man who had first been your friend and became so much more. Who tended to you when you were sick, helped make your house a home, created a little family with you by adding Chewy into the mix.

The man who became a safe place to land. A shoulder to rest your head. A door to walk into at the end of the day, to seek shelter from a storm with, to love endlessly and be loved in return.

It’s him, and in a way you think it’s always been him.

You snap with a low keen, trembling as your orgasm rushes over you, Eddie’s head peeking up just enough to watch it roll over you as his fingers continue their gentle slide.

You writhe beneath him as pleasure hits a peak and settles back into a low simmer, his head coming up to kiss you on the lips when he finally pulls out and joins you near your pillow. Your hand comes up to rest at the back of his neck, holding him to you, your mouths moving slowly over one another, tongues licking into mouths, neither one of you wanting to part from the other.

You’re not sure how long you lay like that in the circle of his embrace, his arm around your waist, your bare chests pressed to one another, ankles tangled beneath bedsheets. All you know is you hate to see him go as he slips out from the bed once more, sliding on his discarded boxers, into your bathroom. You hear the water run momentarily before shutting off, his frame reappearing with a washcloth in hand.

He helps you clean in silence. His fingers gentle along your still sensitive flesh, punctuating each slide of damp cloth with a kiss against your temple, before tossing it into the heap of clothing strewn about your floor. After that is a slide of hands as he helps you up and off of your bed, slipping his sweater over your head and letting it fall into place at your thighs. Your fingers skirt his side, along his bare chest, as he leads you into your bathroom and the two of you get ready for bed in silence.

He’s just been inside you, wholly and fully, but all you can think of is how these moments are your favorites. The ones only you’re privy to. The way Eddie slides lotion over his scars to maintain the elasticity of his skin, the care he takes in washing his face thanks to Steve’s incessant urging, the snap of his hair tie as he pulls his hair away from his face.

You stand before him as you brush, his larger form swallowing yours, fingers coming to toy with the hairs at the nape of your neck, thumb brushing lightly against skin. And as you spit into the sink and flush water down the drain, he spins you in his arms and presses your backside against the counter, drawing you to your tippy toes as he kisses you soundly, swallowing your sigh of happiness.

“Ready for bed?” You ask, running your hands down his chest, curling along his sides.

And he is. You find as much as the two of you slip back into your blankets, him drawing you close to his chest, pressing a kiss to the slope of your shoulder. You barely have a chance to whisper goodnight before he’s shutting his eyes and slipping off into a deep sleep.

You bury yourself closer to him and follow him into rest.

*

Eddie’s sure he’s dead.

Has to be.

It’s the only explanation for the way he wakes with you resting against his chest, your mouth slightly parted, little sighs filling the air.

He has to be dead, because last night Eddie Munson was Hawkin’s resident twenty-three year old virgin, and now he’s no longer a virgin and in bed with the love of his life.

Only he’s not dead. He feels the throb of his heart in his ribcage, the sound of it rattling in his ears thanks to your otherwise silent apartment.

Last night feels like a wispy dream he made up in his mind. Your hands in his hair, your body closer than ever before to his, the way you gasped and moaned in his ear. The feeling of you wrapped around him, hips rising to meet him, driving him further and further over the edge. He pictures the look on your face in utter bliss, watching you writhe for him, bringing you to that peak and watching it rush over you, leaving you shaking in his arms with him as your anchor.

All his life he’d thought himself unworthy of love. His father hadn’t been around much—always in and out of jail, and when he was around his way of showing love was teaching him how to shotgun a beer and hot wire a car. His mother, god he loved his mother, but when his father fell deeper and deeper into his poor habits, she retreated to other things to fill her heart.

Wayne had been the one to give him a home, to give him shelter, to let him know what a family looked like. A real family, at least. And then there was Max. The rough and tumble girl from across the street, with a personality that matched the fiery hue of her hair. She showed him what it was like to love someone like your own kin. Like blood. To want to cover them, protect them from the world, keep them safe.

And then there was you. The girl who had walked into his life and changed the course of it. For two years he retreated into his shadows. Craved the darkness they provided, the safety of drawing away from others. Hiding, because it seemed easier than facing the world. For a while, he was content with his core group; the same kids who had been with him during the worst week of his life, stood by him when he needed it the most, loved him when he lay broken and battered in the hospital. When the town turned on him, even after he’d been exonerated, they were there to protect his name. To try and fight back the rumors that threatened to swallow him whole. They never saw him as a murderer, never saw him as anything but Eddie Munson, loved him beyond the whispers of those who wanted to see him fall.

Loved him beyond those who wanted to run him out of town, wanted to believe the lie that he had the heart to kill all those kids, wanted to put a blame on the fact half of Hawkins had been ripped apart and sunk into the hell that lingered beneath.

You walked in and changed all of that.

Loved him despite his shadows, coaxed him out of them, wanted to see the parts of him he desired to keep hidden. You called to him, a gentle whisper, those small gestures that slowly broke away at the walls he erected to keep others out. You were patient, a constant beam of light in his world, a gentle smile on the days where he hated himself more than words could ever say.

You loved him in the light.

Loved him proudly in public, despite the way people might have looked onward in stores. Loved him even after knowing what he had gone through in eighty six, loved him despite the scar ravaged body that lingered beneath his clothes.

You’d given him a home to place his heart within. A roof to keep it covered. Your hands are there to cradle it and hold it close. And he trusts you. Whole heartedly trusts you.

Smiles against the crown of your head as he recalls telling you he loved you the night before, the way tears like stars glittered on your lower lashes, the choked hiccup of your breath as you whispered back in a broken voice you loved him, too.

“Are you awake?” You mumble beside him, humming softly as your arms come to stretch above you. He aches at the feel of your chest pressing further into his, cock stirring to life at your hip when you lean over and kiss him soundly. “Oh, good morning to you too.”

“Shut up,” he laughs, feeling his cheeks warm. Only you’re pressing further into him, hips flush against him, making him shudder. “Too early.”

“Is it?” You practically simper the words and his chest tightens further, gasping at the feel of your fingers along his chest, down his abdomen, dancing along the thatch of hair at the base of him before curling your palm around him fully. “We have no plans, it’s just us…”

He reaches down to grab your hand, already missing the heat of you around him, and presses a kiss to the inside of your wrist. Sighing, he leans up onto his elbows and stares down at your face. Beautiful, even freshly washed for bed, you’re so beautiful it stirs an ache deep within his chest.

“I love you,” he whispers. “I love you so much.”

You lean up and brush your lips against his. Tentative at first, and then coaxing as you slip your tongue along his, breaking apart long enough to rasp out, “I love you, too.”

Soon it’s a flurry of movement. He slips out of his boxers, kicks them down around his ankles, and moves to shift between your thighs. He remembers you’re on the pill and grabs himself in hand, feeling you beckon him forward with a swivel of your hips as he dips himself to the slick already pooling at your center. This time, as he sheathes himself fully, he languishes in the mutual gasp that fills the spaces between the two of you. Nearly chokes on a sob as he rolls his hips forward and back and feels you shifting to meet him thrust for thrust. You chase your end together, a slow ebb and flow, a quiet that wraps around your hearts save for your mingling breaths and moans.

You mewl into his skin that you love him.

To keep going.

Right there, you gasp out, when he hits that spot that has your eyes rolling back in your skull. Hits it over and over again as you start to shake beneath him, your impending orgasm drawing closer and closer.

It’s not like last night. The nervous, awkward feeling of exploring new lovers for the first time. Today he relishes the feeling of you around him, of rocking his hips into yours, of drawing out your pleasure, watching your face pinch, listening to your sounds. He wants to memorize every one. Every look that passes along your features as he moves against you, pushing your head further and further into your pillow.

With every movement he tries to show you his love. Tries to kiss you in a way that pours every bit of him into you.

He wants you to know that you’re it, this is it, this moment and this girl.

He’s done running.

He’s found home.

He’s found you.

Today feels like making love. Up until this moment he thought it was a cheesy thing people said about sex. But now he knows it’s real, feels the severity of it as he holds you in his arms, safe and sound from the rest of the world.

“Fuck, I don’t think I’ll ever get over how beautiful you are.”

You only gasp his name in reply. Hands come to slide up along his back as he picks up his pace. Rolls his hips down into yours, hitting that spongy part of you that has your thighs trembling where they curl around his hips.

His forehead drops against yours, your eyes coming up to meet him as he tells you he loves you over and over again, hand curling tight with yours against the pillow beneath your head.

Forever.

For the first time, he wants that.

You shatter around him. Walls clamping down as you practically sob his name.

He’s not long after, moaning low and heavy into your skin, heart pounding in his ears. You whimper and writhe against him, as he slows in you, coming down from his own high.

He flops down onto his back and feels you shift beside him in the bed, coming to rest along his chest, hand trailing along his abdomen.

“Better?” He laughs, curling his arm beneath your head.

“Last night was perfect. Stop that.”

“Yes…yes it was. But this was better, no?”

You level him with a stare and he bursts out into laughter, waking Chewy who scampers over to hop in the bed with the two of you.

Your little family.

“Happy New Year, Eddie,” you whisper, reaching across to lace your fingers with his. “I have a feeling it’ll be a good one.”

“Happy New Year, sweetheart.”

*

Spring, 1991

*

“Baby showers are so weird,” Steve mutters, bringing the lip of his beer bottle to his mouth to take a sip.

The two of them stand near the door leading to the patio, glancing out to where Steve’s wife, Charlotte, sits in a circle of her closest friends who are all ‘oohing’ and ‘ahhing’ over the dozens of new little girl outfits she’s received.

Steve continues, “Bunch of girls sitting around opening gifts for someone who isn’t even here yet.”

“Also kind of weird because it’s sort of like a ‘congratulations, your dick works’ celebration.”

“You two are disgusting,” Robin says. “Neanderthals. Babe, you live with this man?”

You’re at Robin’s side, wearing that dress that flutters around your thighs when you walk, looking pretty as ever. You still rob him of his breath even after the past two years.

“That I do,” you laugh, kissing him as you brush by to go grab more desserts from the countertop. “Have fun, boys!”

The two of you slip back out from where you came, Steve waiting until the door slides shut fully when he asks, “So when are you going to ask her? That ring has been burning a hole in your closet for weeks now.”

“Soon…” he says, watching as you walk around with a tray filled with cookies in your arms, passing them out to greedy guests. “I’m just waiting for the perfect moment.”

*

His first attempt has him sweating. Literal sweat dripping from his pores as the two of you sit at that too-ritzy restaurant Steve suggested you try. It’s not his scene, and it’s not yours. You prefer eating indoors, within the comfort of your now shared apartment, with Chewy always nearby to beg for table scraps (you always yell at him not to give him people food, but he’s quick to remind you he’s a growing boy).

This—the candles on the table, the multiple forks and spoons he’s not sure what to do with, the intricately folded napkins. He feels so out of place.

But the plan is as follows for the evening: the music will change to something soft and romantic just as the waiter walks out with your glasses of champagne and dessert. He’s requested a little note to be written in scrawling letters, set to read “will you marry me?” As you’re reading (and hopefully crying) he plans on dropping onto one knee and popping the ring box open.

It’s foolproof, Steve and Robin have reassured him only about fifty times now.

He just knows it needs to be perfect.

You deserve nothing less.

However, nothing ever goes quite as planned. You’re holding his hand, talking about the shop, when a table near you starts to shift. A trio of men start singing, actually singing, to the woman staring up wide-eyed at them, clearly enjoying a moment she’s been dreaming about. She’s a hysterical crying mess, Eddie’s horrified, and you look ready to sink into the ground from second hand embarrassment as one of the men steps forward and asks her to marry him in front of the whole room.

“Shit,” Eddie curses, and you pry your attention away long enough from the now frantically kissing couple to look over to him.

“What was that?”

“Oh, nothing, sweetheart,” he says, glancing up to where the waiter is standing with a tray holding your dessert and glasses.

He’s waiting for him, he realizes, to give the go ahead.

But now his head is spinning, because he’s definitely not singing to you, he’s not prepared any fancy speeches or grand gestures, and definitely won’t be topping that display.

He just wanted to get down on one knee and let the words pour out of him in the moment.

The plan comes to a halt even further when you huff out, “I understand the whole public engagement idea, but I don’t think that’s for me. I feel like…I don’t know, I’d want it to be more intimate. Just you and me. Us.”

It’s like a record scratch in his ears, lungs relieved of all air as he tugs on his collar because he’s choking now too.

Is the room getting hotter?

The waiter glances over and Eddie shakes his head stiffly, reassuring you he’s fine when your hand reaches out to cup his forearm.

“Check,” Eddie mouths to the man when you’re not looking.

So no, it didn't happen that day.

*

The second attempt fares worse than the first. You’re cooking beside him in the kitchen and he’s about to get down on one knee when the phone blares from the far wall.

The two of you stand close to the receiver when the familiar voice of Dustin fills Eddie’s ears, grating and frantic, like he’s recently run a marathon or something.

“Dustin Henderson, resident butthead, what do you want?” Eddie drawls, earning a soft shove from you where you stand beside him.

“Aren’t you twenty-five?”

“Some things never change,” he says, and he can practically hear the kids' eyes rolling in his skull on the other end. “Is someone dying, because I was kind of in the middle of something.”

“That’s disgusting and you should be ashamed of yourself,” Dustin groans.

“Not that kind of thing, you perv.”

“Look, I need help not being single and miserable…”

“That doesn’t sound like someone dying.”

“It might be soon if I don’t fix things with Suzie.”

“Okay, so how do you suppose—”

“Not from you! You’re not romantic,” Dustin continues, leaving Eddie a spluttering mess because he was, in fact, about to be romantic. Probably the most romantic he’s ever been in his life. So fuck him, he thinks. “I need your girlfriend.”

It didn't happen that day either.

*

The third attempt has you in the hospital, Eddie nearly wearing a hole into the ground as he asks the doctors a million and one questions. Is she going to be okay? What kind of medicine can she take? How long will she need to be on crutches for? Do they have to amputate? (He knows that one is a little dramatic, and he’s only asking because his brain is practically shaking in his skull, but he has to know).

You were taking a walk through your favorite park, following along a trail you’ve walked many times now, his sights set on the little lake in the middle of it that is viewable from a small bridge that sits beneath a canopy of leaves.

The only different thing about that day was the way you stepped funny and rolled your ankle, falling to the ground clutching at the offended limb with tears in your eyes. He’d been a mess, an absolute mess even though you told him over and over again you were okay, that it’s likely nothing serious, even though you were the one hurt in the first place.

But he drives like a bat out of hell to the hospital, only to sit in a waiting room for hours, before you’re taken for x-rays.

You have a broken ankle, and his heart aches when they cover your limb in a cast.

That afternoon it’s all dinner in bed and cuddling with Chewy and him as he props your foot up on a mountain of pillows, refusing to let you lift a finger for anything.

Not even the remote, he tells you when you grumble that you’re fine.

Definitely not the right time to propose, he decides, and shelves it for another.

*

He finds you a few days later sitting on the floor with your injured ankle resting in front of you and your palm upturned. He catches the sight of the velvet box next, the way your eyes behold the box like you’ve never seen anything like it before in your life.

“Oh no,” he cries out, rushing over to where you sit on the ground. “No, no, no. I had it all planned out. Well not planned out; I’ve had to change the plans a few times now, actually. But I wanted to make it special, take you somewhere or do something we like to do and ask you—”

“Eddie.”

It’s ruined.

The whole thing is ruined. He presses the heel of his palm to his forehead and groans.

“Eddie,” you try again, and he lifts his head to see you turning to look at him.

There are tears in your eyes, but you don’t seem sad. He’s just ruined your proposal and you’re not upset?

“Eddie, ask me now.”

He feels himself stumble a bit. Stutters out, “W-what?”

“Ask me now.”

You swallow thickly, handing him the ring box as he settles down on the ground in front of you. Chewy pokes his head up from the top of the couch, tail swishing at his two humans.

“A few years ago a new girl moved to town. There’s this idiot that works across the street from her shop at the bar, and he’s kind of a dick to her at first. You can laugh, it’s true. But it’s funny because she’s never deterred by it. She starts writing these little facts on his cups, and these corny little jokes that make her laugh and make it really hard for him not to laugh too because she’s just so pretty. They become friends…sort of. You see, he doesn’t really like to let many people in, and here she is with this big personality. Everyone falls in love with her, I mean—how wouldn’t they. Except for him. Or so he thinks.”

You’ve moved closer, your knees against his, one of his hands in your lap, curled in your own.

“He starts helping out with her apartment and realizes the more he hangs out with her, the more he likes her. He starts to feel less like a monster, and more like someone capable of love. She peels back those little layers and is so patient with it, never pushes him, always puts his feelings first. And then, he realizes he’d be a complete dingus to not tell her he likes her. And then the most surprising thing happens.”

You’re laughing through your tears, but laughing all the same and asking, “What is that?”

“They fall in love. Him for the first time ever, and he realizes…he wants that person every day for the rest of his life.”

He pops the box open and watches your hand come up to press against your lips, taking in the single diamond on a slender gold band.

“I love you so much, sweetheart. Every day more than the one that came before it. And I want that, I want this…us, for the rest of my life,” he says thickly, trying to hold back his own tears. “If you say yes, of course.”

“Yes, Eddie, yes,” you whisper, holding out your hand so he can slide it onto your ring finger.

It’s a perfect fit.

Then again, you’ve always been.

*

Eddie Munson marries the girl of his dreams six months later.

It’s a small ceremony, surrounded by your closest friends in the Wheeler’s backyard. You share personal vows with one another, words that encompass the years you’ve known one another, the love you share, the dreams for the future.

He promises to love you for the rest of his life as Steve—newly officiated for this occasion—instructs him to slide your wedding band onto your finger. And you do the same, standing there in a pretty white dress, your own words falling around him and filling his heart as you push the solid gold ring onto his own hand.

You dance under twinkling lights the kids have twined around the trees, hearts full to burst.

Wayne tells him he’s proud to call him son and wishes you well as you part for the night, Max joining soon after to hug the two of you and remind you she’ll be by the apartment often to check up on Chewy (her favorite and only nephew).

You slip into your hotel room in a flurry of kisses, a sea of white tulle around you, your hands in his suit and his working on undoing the line of buttons down your back.

You fall into one another as you always do, his lips against yours, bodies burning, sighs mingling into one as he slides home for the first time with his new wife.

He holds you close, one arm low around your back, the backs of his knuckles against your cheek. Tells you he loves you as the two of you creep closer and closer to mutual bliss.

Later, after you’re both cleaned up and spent, he tucks you close to his chest and hums the song you danced to at your wedding.

He’s happy.

Happier than he’s ever been in his life.

“Fun fact: Becoming your husband made this the best day of my life.”

You press your head further into his chest, finger toying with the new ring on his finger. “Fun fact: Becoming your wife is mine.”

*

Tag List: @clinicallyonline17, @sidthedollface2, @lazywillow6748, @idkidknemore, @blue-eyed-lion , @emma77645 , @bambipowerblueaddition , @aysheashea , @lezzy-bennet @yeehawbitchs

[dreamauri]

Hi I live and breathe for your dark fics could you do dark ex Charles Leclerc x reader and it’s kinda like your max fic, Charles kidnaps her or she ran from him and he finally found her

♪ — 𝗟𝗢𝗦𝗧 𝗜𝗡 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗙𝗜𝗥𝗘 dark! charles leclerc x fem! reader (angst/yandere + smut) “. . . peace is short, charles will keep you to himself.”

( general master list | more of charles leclerc ) ( requests )

The only sound you could hear was rain as you ran through the street. stumbling on your feet and shoes, you cried as you did your best to escape your no-longer house, and your no-longer boyfriend.

You eyes were tainted with the memory. Your boyfriend with q tight grip on a crowbar, covered in blood with a dark yet soft gaze, staring into your soul. "Y/N- I can't explain." You didn't wait.

You couldnt stand another second in that household. So you listened to your brain and escaped, running from your calling lover behind. You only gave yourself a break once you reached a train station, slumping in a chair knowing you'd be a safe distance away from the unfamiliar man.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

PRESENT TIME :: 2 years and 6 moths later . . .

You blushed as Mika twirled you as the two of you walked down the street together, sharing an ice-cream cone. Mika was solace, your garden of warmth and joy. She was your first roommate here in Italy, your closest ( and only ) friend.

Although the weight the word friend carried was different. You were the type of friends that shared a bed, cuddled in front of the window while watching it rain, sometimes you took each other on sunset walks, or maybe you shared ice-cream cones like the way you were doing right now.

You were sure your feelings for her surpassed the definition of friends with the way she kissed your cheek, or the way she hugged you and held your hand. Or the way she pressed you in the wall as she kissed you while you showered. Mika was a true blessing in your little world.

"Stay here, sunflower. I'll need to get some guitar strings." She ruffled your hair before entering the music store. You nodded, eyes following her through the window as she talked to a staff member. In the shiny surface of the window, your eyes caught the reflection of the all-to-familiar yet unfamiliar green orbs.

"Charles?" You whipped around to look at him only to come face to face with the crowded market. Gulping, you reach for the door handle only to bump face first into the man you were dreading. "Y/N." His soft french accent flowed into your ears as he pulled you into a hug. "I've been looking for you for so long, amour."

No matter how much you were scared of him, you found yourself shakily hugging him back. "I missed you Y/N. Why did you leave me like that? You left me all alone and I was so sad without you." You couldn't bring yourself to speak, the memories of the night you last saw him playing in your head.

"It's all good now. I found you. We can go home together—" "Excuse me." Pulling away from the hug, Charles turned with an angry face to the voice of disturbance, only to find your blond companion. "You must be Mika." Charles forced a smile, outstretching his hand for her to shake. "My girlfriend told me so much about you."

He wrapped a hand around your hip, squeezing gently to send a message: 'play along'. And you did, you didn't want her to have a similar fate to the pool of blood in your living room back in Monaco. "Yeah." You hesitantly nodded, forcing a smile making Mika return the handshake. "I thought I'd stop by in Italy since its my vacation time. Didn't think I'd run into you two."

"You didn't tell me you were coming." You told him, chuckling weakly. "It was a list minute trip. But I don't regret it. I got to see you again." He was ecstatic, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your temple. "We wont hold you back from looking around any longer, Cheri. Me and Mika have to go home anyways." You tried to pull away only for Charles to hold you in place.

"You can join for dinner if you want. It's normally just us two." Mika offered, which Charles quickly accepted. Arriving to your little house, you slipped your shoes off before moving to the kitchen while Mika went upstairs to fix her guitar.

"Oh how I've missed you." Charles mumbled in your neck, breathing in your scent as he licked you ear. "I was so sad when you left me alone like that. I was only trying to protect you. You broke my heart, Y/N. I thought about you everyday." You shuddered as you felt him press wet kisses to your skin and nape.

"Play time is over now. We have to go home." You could feel yourself tear up, holding in your breath as you shook your head. "No?" His voice darked, gripping your neck tightly as he pushed you into a wall. "Y/N this girl on girl fantasy of yours ends here, You are coming with me." He growled, his fist cutting off your air supply. "Would you rather I eliminate Mika? Or are you going to be nice."

You closed your eyes nodding quickly, tears streaming down your eyes at the thought of your lover receiving a death sentence from this monster. "Good girl, ma jolie." [my beautiful] he whispered in your ear, finally letting you go. "Tell her to get something from the basement. I won't stretch out your playdate for long."

"M-Mika!" "Yeah?" You heard her footsteps jumping down the stairs. "Can you get the Madeleines pans from the basment." "Sweet! Yes!" Mika clapped her hand hungrily as she ran to retived the desired item. "Do you want one or two?" She called upstairs looking between the two pans.

"She says both." Charles replied for you. "That's odd." Mika mumbled taking both as she switched off the light, walking up the stairs. " . . . She always says one." The blond mumbled to herself as she opened the basement door open. Looking at the kitchen, she furrowed her eyes confused at you and your apparent boyfriend's absence. "Y/N? . . . "

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"What do you see in her?" Charles voice was the cratrast of his nice and friendly one from earlier. It was dark and menacing. What do you see in Mika?

Well for starts, they Charles and Max are like fire and water. While Charles was French; Mika was Italian. While Charles had chocolate hair and green eyes; Mika had blond hair and blue eyes. While Charles played the piano, a classical instrument; Mika played the electric guitar for a rock band. And the most obvious reason, one had dick and the other had boobs. Very different fields when it comes to sexual occasions.

Charles wrapped his hand around your waist as he pulled your drugged body through the crowd. You couldn't bring your mouth to reply, only mindlessly walking with him. "She can never ever please you like I do. She can never love you like I do." He whispered angrily in your ear as you started to lose the strength in your feet.

Charles carried you in his back as he walked away from your home. You could only lean your head on his shoulder as your consciousness slowly died out.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You breath was ragged when you finally woke up in your bed back in Monaco. You tried to pull yourself up only to discover one of your wrists was tied to the bed, literally. You cursed under your breath as you tried to reach for your nightstand drawer where you remember keeping a pocket knife.

"Ah ah." Charles warned, pulling you back from your wrist to face him. "I thought we were playing nice." He reminded you as he brushed his lips over your neck and collar bone. You squeezed upur eyes shut, trying to pull away only for the monegasque to push you face down and take you right then and there. Claiming you once more.

This went of Days which turned into weeks. Desperation fueled your will to break free. Fear clawed at you, urging you to run, to save yourself from the clutches of a man consumed by obsession and such darkness. And although you were always se hesitant to escape even though you knew you were very capable of breaking free, you didn't. Even if you no longer saw him the same way. No matter how many times he touched you or hugged you, the way he came home from a long trip to you or the way he pleased you.

He felt suffocating for the most part. The way his arms hugged your waist in your sleep so you wouldn't break into run or escape. You hated his eyes, so filled with love yet darkness followed you around your prison.

You hated him overall at this point and you couldn't stand another second with this man. Dragging you around the house, shouting at you, touching you, using you, "loving" you. It was too much, you couldn't stand it anymore.

"911, what's your emergency?"

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Your breaths were ragged as you burst into the garden, the moonlight casting eerie shadows around you. Charles' footsteps followed, the pounding of his heart matching yours in a dangerous rhythm. With a chilling desperation, he lunged at you, his hands reaching out to claim you once more.

In a final act of defiance, you caught a nearby crowbar, or maybe even the same one from that night. Your fingers trembling around its cold metal surface. The collision between you and Charles was raw and unyielding, both of you locked in a desperate struggle. Adrenaline surged through your veins, lending you the strength you needed.

"Y/N, stop! You can't escape me," Charles growled, his grip tightening.

With a swift, heart-pounding strike, you managed to swing and hit Charles with the crowbar, his body falling. Panting and shaking, you stared down at the man who had haunted your every waking moment.

You were quick to drop the crow bar, covering your mouth once you processed your actions. His body was limp and still, eyes closed. A gasp left your mouth as you dropped to your knees, eyes tearing up at what you had just done.

He was cold to the touch, and his skin had paled. In a moment of panic you had pulled him in your arms to check if you'd hit the life out of him.

Gripping your hair, you could hear the sirens of the police summoned. Your nails digging in the dirt as you watched Charles try to pick himself up. Wincing as he looked up at you, one eye closed where you aimed.

In a final attempt, Charles manages to catch your crawling away figure. "If I'm going down. You're coming with me." And with one swift move, the chisel end of your fallen weapon had been forced into the skin and flesh of your stomach.

A pained moan left your mouth as you gasped for qir. Charles harshly turned you from your chin and crashed his lips onto yours before he was tackled down and disarmed by authorities.

You watched as he struggled and fought while you pushed yourself away from him, hand over your open stomach.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The stab wound wasn't too deep. You sat quietly as a medical officer stitched you up while you took in the breaths of fresh air and moon light.

This must've been what freedom felt like. You missed this. A small smile covered your lips as you closed your eyes sighing in relief.

War was over. For the most part . . .

voice notes 🔊 . . . ( this fic features an oc with the name of 'mika giovanni', made by a friend of mine who i cannot tag because he doesn't have Tumblr >=( you can check out mika HERE. want to feature your oc? send a dm or drop them in my inbox)

[vesperione]

KONSTANCJI AKA KONSTANCJI LUIZ AKA JUDGE KONSTANCJI LUIZ FROM THE NOTE IN COOKING COMPANIONS WHO WAS DEFINITELY A VICTIM OF EITHER THE BABA YAGA OR THE BUTCHER.

BUT WHO THE FUCK IS THAT.

[nervousd]

Side Story— Decisions

→ Infatuation | m.list

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

#SYNOPSIS— the avatar program is getting their funds cut by Quaritch influencing Parker. You’re the saving grace they need

#WARNING(S)— This is a dark fic, yandere, manipulative/ manipulation, unhealthy obsession, unhealthy fixation, implications of dubcon, non-consensual touching, dark quaritch, abuse of power, dubcon, smut, overstimulation, cunnilingus, panty sniffing(?) sniffing kink(?) older man/younger woman, age gap

#CHARACTER(S)— Colonel Miles Quaritch

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

❝ You see— you see, I mean they’re just pissing on us without even the courtesy of informing us sooner— I’m going to Selfridge ❞ Grace’s outburst we’re to be expected. Once again, Selfridge had cut the resources and money flowing into the avatar program. He claimed spending too many resources on a program that’s failing is a waste of money. Rather— they’ll be using those resources on their military seeing as how the savages have gotten hostile.

But it was all a bunch of nonsense— Quaritch was the one doing this. He was manipulating Selfridge into cutting the funds for the program, he demanded that his men needed more weapons. How the avatar program wasn’t helping them at all— it was just a puppeteer show meant for laughs. Selfridge being the moron he is agreed to Quaritch demands.

Not a second later, Grace returned with cheeks bright red. She fumed, ❝ The nerve of him! How could he do this us?! ❞ She went off to rant about his corporate butt claiming his idiocy will be the ruin for us. ❞ It’s all because of Quaritch sticking his nose into my program— ❞ Grace huffed, digging the sides of her lab coat looking for her pack of cigarettes. ❝ Where are my cigarettes? Where are my goddamn cigarettes? ❞ You hurried to her, handing her a cigarette. She blew the cloud of smoke, relief filling her body. You coughed, wincing at the smell ❝ Sorry kid ❞

After years of working for her, you politely replied with a smile, knowing what to expect from her antics. Max coughed into his hands, avoiding eye contact with Grace, ❝ Well maybe we can work something out with the Colonel? ❞ Grace scoffed, ❝ He’s a happy trigger moron! What can we do to persuade him!?Nothing—! ❞ Her words trailed off as they landed on you.

It was only till later that you caught the meaning of her gaze. Your breath hitched at the back of your throat, it was no secret to anyone that the Colonel had his eye on you. ❝Grace no— we can’t do that to her ❞ Max tried reasoning with her, standing up for your sake. Grace nodded, shaking her head ❝Right— I’m sorry kid. I won’t— ❞ her words trailed off as she took another drag from her cigarette. ❝ What about her? What can she do? ❞ The stillness in the atmosphere was broken by the curiosity laced in Jakes voice. ❝ Right I forgot you’re new here so you wouldn’t know. The Head of Security has a thing for our secretary ❞

Jake stayed quiet,processing the new information. He hesitated, a blank emotionless expression crossed over his face the relaxation of an idea presenting itself to him ❝ If she can— can you? Would you be willing to do it? Please— we can’t have them cutting our budget ❞ Grace voice bellowed ❝Jake! You can’t ask her to do such a thing! ❞ Jake let out a scoff, ❝ It’s our only chance doc, if she can persuade the Colonel he can convince Selfridge to give us back our funding. It’s our only shot! ❞ They spat out arguments between each other, shouting and screaming as they bickered back and forth.

A terrible weight laid on your shoulders, would you be willing to do this? For them? Would you be willing to do this to to yourself? To be at his mercy? You dreaded doing such a thing but for them? Anything for them— ❝ I’ll do it ❞ you replied, voice breaking as you spoke. Their endless quarreling stopped, they looked at you in disbelief. You covered your face with shaking hands, looking up at all three of them. You flashed them a half-smile ❝I’ll convince Quaritch to put in a word to Selfridge for us ❞ Without waiting for any other remarks you turned on your heel.

Several long strides brought you to his office, you let out a shaky breath. Wiping the tears from the corner of your eyes, you exhaled; releasing some of the tension that settled on your shoulders. You knocked on the door, patiently waiting for the confirmation to walk in. A muffled sound from behind the door was enough clearance for you. The unmistakable creaking of the hinges of his door was loud enough to announce your presence.

There Quaritch was scribbling on documents, pausing his actions his head shifted to your direction. He flashed you a grin, a sudden sickening sensation coursed throughout your body. ❝ Well looky here— ❞ his voice drawled out, grutal and raspy. His eyes remained fixated on you, taking in the sight like a sponge soaking up water. He himself won’t admit it— but he was pleasantly thrilled to have you coming to him. His chuckle was light and laced with a hum of amusement ❝ I would done this much sooner if I had known that threatening the puppeteer program would lead you to come to me— you surely took your time. Not that I’m complaining ❞

Several long strides brought him to you. ❝ I needed a distraction and with you coming to me with those glassy eyes of yours— well it sure gives me something to think about ❞ His hand came up to caress your cheek, brushing gently against the corner of your eye wiping a stray tear. Your breath hitched, wide eyes gazing up at him. The gears in your head clicked together, was this all planned out? Did he know you would come to him? Your lip trembled, throat clogging up as you tried to find the words to say ❝ Convince Selfridge to bring back the funding ❞ Quaritch quirked up his eyebrows, ❝ I can do that but what’s in it for me?❞

You sniffled quietly, a solemn tear cascading down your cheek. With shaky limbs you clutched onto his hand, pressing your face against it ❝ Whatever you want, I’m sure I can satisfy it❞ With the way the Colonel's lips curled up and his eyes crinkled in delight, it was clear that he understood the meaning in your words. He’s been waiting to hear those words from you since forever— nothing but a dream come true. His chuckle was light and laced with a hum of amusement, ❝ I have a few things in mind ❞

His fingers tangled in your hair, giving a harsh tug at your roots. You cried out in pain ❝ Don’t make me wait ❞ his lips brushed against yours. Your hands shook as you cradled his jaw in your hands, you leaned forward pressing your lips against his. He kissed back with fever, insatiable and unable to get enough. A nip on your lip was enough to grant a gasp from you. He took the opportunity, slipping his tongue inside. You whined against him, hands pushing against his chest. Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes as he deepened the kiss.

You squirmed in his hold, having lost the rhythm to the kiss. His greedy hands slid along your hip, tracing the curve as he groped your skin. Even as you pulled back from his kiss the hand clasped behind your neck brought you back to him. ❝ no more❞ you whispered breathlessly against his lips. He ignored your pleas, his mouth forming a scowl. He was clearly displeased with your hesitance towards him. You came to him, pleading— begging. And with that sweet voice of yours? Whimpering and whining— Quaritch sighed, kisses coming out sloppy and frantic than the previous kisses.

Batting your eyelashes with watered eyes, offering yourself to him. So who was he to refuse? He’ll take everything you have to offer and more. He won’t have you backing off from this proposition. He can’t— he won’t. His hold on you tightens, arms strong in their hold. The thought alone of letting you leave his embrace had his mind in shambles. You were finally in his grasp, where he wanted you. He whispered your name between kisses, trailing them down your neck. You whined, turning your head away from him, whimpering as you pushed against his chest having had enough of his frantic kissing.

He pressed himself against your body, snapping his hips upwards to get any sort of fiction. His chest rumbled as he mouthed your neck leaving trials of wet kisses. He dove back to yours lips, ravishing you with kiss after kiss; sneaking his tongue inside. His tongue wrapped around yours, groaning in delight to feel you kissing him back with the same fever. He pulled back from the kiss, tongue swiping over his lips. He showed his delight in an obvious way, fingers ghosting over your skin before clasping his hand against yours. He pressed his cheekbone to your open palm, giving a quick kiss to your wrist.

It was odd to see the sudden affection he gave you— quite the contrary you didn’t expect such an action to come from him. It was soothing in a way— to see he’s not just another muscled brute. It was sudden, the way his hands slid underneath your thighs picking you up. You yelped, surprised by his movements; clinging onto his broad shoulders. He settled himself on his chair, placing you on his desk. Papers and folders scattered across the floor from the impact. His fingers ghosted over your bare skin leaving goosebumps in their wake.

His rough calloused hands caught hold of your thighs. Spreading them apart eagerly, his fingers pressed deep into your skin. His sudden actions caused you to fall back from the table, leaving yourself bare to him. You’re cheeks flushed in embarrassment, thighs snapping back together. The colonel scoffed, fingers pinching your skin. ❝ Now that won’t do— Spread em ❞ Tears raced down your cheek, humiliated and distraught by the actions you would be forced to do. You spread your legs, open and inviting towards the older male.

He tossed your legs over his broad shoulders, burying his face in your covered cunt. You whined in embarrassment, heart pounding against your chest. He rubbed his cheek against your inner thigh, giving a quick nip to your skin. His fingers crept up towards the dip of your hips, pulling off your panties. He snagged them in his hand pocketing them. You freeze, tears streaming down your cheeks. His hands slid underneath your knee spreading your legs wide apart.

His tongue swiped over his lips, greedily staring at your uncovered cunt. ❝ look at you, all pretty and wet. Just for me right? Yeah— just for me ❞ His fingers prodded your wet cunt, cooing at the slickness you were producing. Silky soft and tight like a vice— promising pleasure. A needy minx— you were just asking for it weren’t you? He peppered your cunt with open mouthed kisses, tongue lapping up your slick. You shuffled in discomfort inching away from him slowly. But to your displeasure he had noticed your little scheme. His hands instantly dipped towards your ass, pulling you forward to his pleasure. The sudden shift in movement nearly caused you to fall, your back arched uncomfortable; heels digging onto his broad back.

Quaritch clenched his jaw, pursing his lips in annoyance. Why did you have to be so much trouble? Why do you make this difficult? A good spanking is ought to tame that attitude of yours. His hand came down to strike on the outside of your thigh, a scream erupting from your throat from the sudden impact. ❝ Behave or the deal is off and we wouldn’t want that do we? ❞ Your eyes scrunched up, lip trembling with distraught. It wasn’t pleasurable— nothing about this was pleasurable. Your stomach seemed to rise to your throat, threatening to spill all over. But you had to hold it in, this was the deal. He got what he wanted and you get what you wanted. It was fair— part of the deal.

Quaritch nearly moaned at the taste of your flavor bursting into his tastebuds. Had he known you would of tasted this damn good he would of resulted in other methods to get you in his arms sooner. He should of transferred you to his department— kept you naked in his dorm for his pleasure. Easy access to your bare pussy, keep you there forever. His own personal cocksleeve— He would take the time to savor you— not like this. This was different, this was a quick fix he needed. He needed to take now— he can’t have you backing out. Once he’s done with you— oh you’ll be back. Begging for more— He plunged back into your wet cunt, grip tightening as your squirmed from his ministrations. His nose bumped repeatedly against your clit, tongue dragging across your folds.

You bit your lip, trying to stay silent— but atlast his tongue plunged into your hole suddenly causing you to clamp your thighs on his head. Your hands tugging onto his hair as he sloppily ate you out. Everything was overwhelming— with the way his tongue is lapping up everything you have to offer. Low groans came from within his chest, rumbling in the pleasant taste your cunt provided him with. His blue eyes seemed to glaze over as his actions become more vigorous and intense. The slurping sounds coming from his actions we’re nearly pornographic— the way his tongue kept on thrusting and lapping caused the coil in your stomach to snap. You gasped letting out a loud moan, back arching off the desk as you squealed as he continued to nip and suck

Tears pricked the corner of your eyes as you whined pathetically. Quaritch let out a chuckle, he wanted nothing more but to coax those cute moans out of you, see your overstimulated puffy cunt drooling for attention. His thumbs spread your cunt, eyeing your fluttering hole. A needy thing he mused. You were begging to be filled up nicely and who was he to deny you that pleasure? To deny himself? ❝God— you taste good ❞ His eyes rolled to the back of his head, swollen lips and nose covered in your slick— god you tasted divine— he wants more. Quaritch pulled you closer by the hips, tongue swirling around your clit. You whined, chest arching from the sheer pleasure he’s giving you. You’ve already cummed once— you can’t handle another one. You squirmed in his hold, hips thrusting up, sideways— anything to be away from his mouth. It’s too much— his mouth, his tongue against your cunt sends you into fits of sobs.

Quaritch scowled, arms clamping over your thighs to cease your struggling ❝ One more— just one more sweetheart ❞ he runs his tongue on the hood of your clit, groaning in response. You wince, screaming out his name, Quaritch peers up at you not bothering to halt in his ministrations. He was drunk off your screams— taste and the breathy moans you would let out.

When he does eventually stop with torturing you, your met with him between your thighs with his chin dripping in your slick. Your eyes fill with tears before he dips his head, tongue lapping up your overstimulated cunt. He doesn’t let up until your cumming, wailing for him. He leaned back, gazing at the mess he made. Your fluttering hole clenched around nothing, puffy and swollen from his relentless attack on your cunt. He wanted nothing more but to fill you up with his cock— but not now. He’ll save that moment for another day, get you nice and prepped just for him. Make it romantic— candles and petals scattered. His mouth curled up at the corner of his lips, yeah you’ll like that won’t you?

With one last kiss on the tip of your clit, Quaritch gave your outer thigh a firm slap. ❝ That wasn’t so bad now was it? No— you enjoyed it didn’t you? That’s my good girl ❞ He cooed mockingly—sickeningly. His gaze traveled to your eyes where he was met with pouting lips and tear stained cheeks. Chest heaving drawing attention to your bust — he’ll have his own fun with them soon. You were far too godamn pretty to let go off— His throat bobbed— cock twitching in his pants. On second thought maybe you can handle a couple of rounds more.

→ Tag list

@drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed

Would anyone else like to be tagged on the side stories?

━━━ : © NERVOUS.D

[dioneyesuus]

At first it was kind of fun watching people live react on both Tumblr and Twitter to the spoilers of Life Is Strange DE. Watching people unite behind a story they are so passionate about, a story that IM so passionate about reminded me of how important media is, especially media that tells the stories of those who are underrepresented in real life.

But now that I’ve settled on it, (as someone who, despite being queer and liking pricefield, typically chooses to sacrifice Chloe at the end of my play throughs) it’s not very fun anymore.

I had thought that maybe this was all anger that was inevitable. People like a ship, and when it isn’t seen though, they get angry. But genuinely, the blatant mischaracterization of characters from a beloved franchise is awful to watch. If you want to write a story where Chloe isn’t present, and where Max is learning to move on from her grief, pull no punches when you do it.

Keep Chloe dead, or make Chloe and Max’s life a living hell from the burden of killing a whole town. Chloe’s mom is dead, dad is dead, hometown is gone and all she has left is the person who killed it all for her. Don’t beat around the bush, and don’t undermine the weight of a character’s decisions. Leaving Chloe out is a way to help Max not confront her guilt as heavily, but that isn’t how the original handled it.

At the end of the game, you made a decision: You destroy the town, and everything in it, or you kill the beacon of light through it all. Make a sequel that confronts it wholeheartedly. Make a sequel that forces two brothers into four separate corners that each are in part dreadful, because that is the weight of our choices.

That all being said, I hold out hope that the coming episodes will bring us to that same point, pricefield or not.

[kathlare]

shattered moments

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: After a grueling flight and worrying messages from Lando's family, Amelie arrives in London only to find Lando in emotional turmoil. The chapter explores their quiet but intense moment of connection as Amelie comforts him, offering reassurance and understanding.

Wordcount: 1.4 k

Warnings: just fluff, kinda sad

request over here!

July 1st, 2024 - London, United Kingdom

Amelie’s flight from LA had been exhausting. She’d barely slept, the weight of her phone buzzing every few minutes keeping her awake long before the plane touched down at Heathrow. Each notification that pinged on her screen had come with the same distressing question from Lando’s friends and family—Where the hell is Lando?

Her heart pounded as she made her way through the terminal, her mind racing faster than her footsteps. She knew the news—she'd seen the race highlights during a layover in Paris. The chaos in Austria had left everyone in shock: Max and Lando fighting for the lead, both of them colliding in dramatic fashion, and then Lando’s heartbreaking DNF. Russell had claimed an unexpected win, but no one could care about that in the wake of what had just happened.

The texts from Lando’s family and friends kept flooding in—his parents, Max, Ria, and even Keegan, all asking if Amelie had heard anything from him. He hadn't checked in with anyone. The last message she’d gotten from him had been the night before the race, when he told her he was focused and ready. Now, nothing.

She hadn’t understood why at first. She knew the chaos of race weekends, the pressure, the adrenaline. But when the messages started pouring in—first from Max, then from Lando’s mum, then from his sister—things felt different. They were worried. Panic had crept into their texts, and Amelie couldn’t ignore the heavy dread building in her chest.

Lando had gone off in Austria, the news reports said, he was racing Max for the lead when they collided. Lando’s car was wrecked, but Max’s was fine. The race was over for him. That wasn’t what bothered her, though. It was the part where he disappeared. No one knew where he went after the race. His team hadn’t heard from him, and neither had anyone in his inner circle.

By the time she stepped off the plane and made her way through the terminal, her heart was racing in her chest, a tight knot she couldn’t shake. She had no idea what she was walking into, but she knew it wasn’t good.

Her phone buzzed again as she waited for her luggage, another message from Lando’s sister.

Flo Norris: Please let me know when you’re with him.

The words hit her harder than any of the others. It was like a punch to the gut. She was the one person who could get through to him, the one person who he’d listen to when the world felt like it was crashing down. But what had happened? Why had he disappeared?

Amelie finally reached her apartment in London, her body drained from the long flight, but her mind a whirlwind of concern. As she entered the space, her eyes immediately fell on the remnants of Lando’s presence—the scattered McLaren gear on the floor, his sneakers haphazardly kicked off in the hallway, a half-open suitcase in the bedroom, as if he’d been preparing to leave in a hurry.

Her heart thudded in her chest. She felt the silence of the apartment weigh on her, as if something was deeply, terribly wrong. The scent of Lando’s cologne lingered in the air, mixing with the faint smell of his racing fuel, his unmistakable presence everywhere. But there was something else too—a sense of abandonment.

Amelie quietly made her way into the bedroom, dread pooling in her stomach. The room was dark, the blinds drawn, with just a sliver of sunlight peeking through. There, lying motionless in the center of the bed, was Lando.

At first, she thought he was asleep. But as she stepped closer, she saw it—the way his shoulders shook with every shallow breath, his body curled up in a way that spoke of defeat and pain. His face was buried in his pillow, his hands clenched tightly at his sides.

Her heart broke at the sight.

—Lando,— she whispered, stepping closer to the bed. Her voice cracked as she gently sat on the edge of the mattress. —Lando, baby, it’s me.—

At the sound of her voice, he froze, his body going tense. Slowly, he turned his face toward her, and when their eyes met, her breath caught in her throat. His eyes were bloodshot and red, the familiar mischievous spark replaced with a raw, broken look.

Amelie reached out for him, her fingers brushing against his cheek as if afraid to touch him too much. —What happened?— she whispered, her voice trembling. —Why didn’t you let anyone know where you were?—

He didn’t answer at first. His lips parted as if he wanted to say something, but no words came out. Instead, his eyes welled with tears once again, and Amelie felt her heart break into pieces. Without thinking, she crawled onto the bed beside him, pulling him into her arms.

She didn’t need him to explain. The way he was trembling in her arms told her everything she needed to know. The pain in his eyes, the tears staining his pillow, the way he was completely, utterly shattere... it was all there.

—I’m so sorry,— she whispered, pressing a kiss to his forehead, brushing his damp hair back from his face. —I’m here. I’m right here.—

Lando choked on a sob, burying his face in her shoulder as his body shook with quiet sobs. —I fucked up,— he murmured, his voice ragged. —I should’ve won. I was so close, and I let everything slip away.—

Amelie shook her head, her fingers gently tracing patterns on his back as she tried to soothe him. —Lando, you didn’t fuck up,— she whispered firmly. —You’ve been pushing yourself harder than anyone I know. It’s a race, love. It’s not the end of the world.—

He pulled away slightly, his eyes red-rimmed with frustration. —But I let everyone down. The team, the fans, you... I promised I’d do better this season, and now I’m just... I’m just another failure.—

She felt his pain like it was her own. She saw the pressure on him, the constant weight of expectation, the way he carried the world on his shoulders like it was his responsibility to make everyone happy. But right now, he wasn’t just Lando Norris, the driver, the competitor. He was just a man who needed to feel like he was enough. Like he mattered for more than just the number on his car.

She cupped his face in her hands, her thumb gently brushing away the tears that continued to fall. —Listen to me,— she said, her voice steady, despite the way her heart ached for him. —You are not a failure. You are human. You’ve been through so much this season. You’re doing amazing, Lando. And I’m so fucking proud of you.—

He swallowed hard, shaking his head again, but the tightness in his expression loosened just a little. —I just wanted to win... for once. For all of them.—

Amelie leaned in, her lips brushing against his forehead as she kissed him gently. —You will,— she whispered. —I know you will.—

For a long moment, neither of them said anything. Amelie simply held him, letting the rhythm of her heartbeat steady his breath. She could feel the tension in his body slowly melt away, his sobs turning to quiet sniffles as he clung to her, as if afraid to let go.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he whispered against her neck, his voice hoarse, —I don’t know what I’d do without you.—

Amelie smiled softly, her fingers gently combing through his hair. —You’ll never have to find out. I’m here, always.—

Lando pulled back just slightly, enough to look her in the eye. His lips quirked into a tired, but genuine, smile. —You’re pretty great, you know that?—

Amelie chuckled softly, brushing his hair out of his eyes. —I know. But you’re still a dumbass for thinking you messed everything up.—

He laughed weakly, the sound so familiar and comforting to her ears. —Yeah, well, I can be a dumbass sometimes.—

She pressed another kiss to his lips, soft and lingering, a quiet promise that she would always be there for him, no matter what.

—I’m not going anywhere,— she whispered, her hand tracing his jaw. —We’ll get through this together.—

Lando closed his eyes for a moment, leaning into her touch. When he opened them again, there was a flicker of the old spark in his gaze, the one that reminded her of everything he was capable of.

—Yeah,— he said, his voice more assured now. —We will.—