#one fuckin older teen.

[ablednt]

It's also really frustrating that I spent my whole childhood and teenage years being dehumanized, having my peers joke about keeping me as a pet and toying with/manipulating me for fun or bringing me places with them like I'm an accessory and not their friend and literally being called a tool and an object by the adults in my life but when this had long lasting effects on how I viewed myself/what I related to and also how I could only view my place in relationships (of any kind) as being one of subservience like I can have all of the problems that come with that

But when I expressed that in any way, when I connect with media where people are dehumanized/objectified/enslaved etc, when I acknowledge that pain the main response I get is people calling me a freak, trying to force me into kink spaces surrounding my trauma, sexualizing me and then punishing me for that, etc.

Like idk I think it says more about the people saying this shit than it does about me but I've been made to feel like such a goddamn creep for having regular ass trauma symptoms that my OCD over it is insane and it really sucks how much I've been taught to be ashamed of myself for not just repressing all of my trauma (and the even more on the nose exotrauma my brain pulled in to cope with this shit) and how I've had to try and make myself as small as possible in survivor spaces lest I make anyone uncomfortable with my existence

Like idk what if y'all let me live my life actually/nbh

[mediumgayitalian]

"It's two sugars, right? And approximately eighty percent cream by volume?"

"I love you," says Will seriously.

Nico snorts. "You love caffeine. If you loved me, you would be looking at me when you said that, not the cup."

"Hm? Are you talking? Me and my caffeine are trying to have a conversation, thanks. Come back later."

Nico laughs, big and raspy, and Will grins the kind of grin that squishes his round face. He sets the cup down and slides his hands down Nico's arms, circling his wrists; the kiss is clumsy and ridiculous because neither of them can stop giggling long enough to press their lips together properly.

"I can, like, see sound," Will mumbles. "Shit is wild. Complaining is purple."

"You know, you can quit."

"Can't."

"Revolt?"

"Tried. Got dragged back."

"Hm. Well, you know what Cecil says."

"I'm not throwing a Molotov cocktail in my own infirmary, and you can't either, before you say that."

Nico sighs, kissing one last kiss to the corner of Will's mouth before pulling away. "I could make it look like the cleanest of accidents."

"I'm sure."

"And then you could come spend time with me." He takes his special, nametagged place in the good spinny chair, with the perfect ass indent and comfy cracked leather. "I'll take you wherever you want. You wanna go to Florence? We can go to Florence."

"I'd love that, actually."

"Okay! I'll pack you a bag. You wait by the door, I'll distract them with a Mol--" Nico hastens to correct at Will's Look™️. "With a very small and almost inconsequential stick of dynamite I will give to Harley."

"Better."

"Okay! Be ready in ten."

He gets a Look again, but it is much softer this time, blue eyes dark with regret.

"Nico."

Nico scowls. "I know."

"It's only because Dad's gone silent."

"Ugh. I know. Can't your father choose a less inconvenient time to get smited, or whatever happened to him."

"I'm pretty sure he's alive. I mean, the sun is still kicking, and I still get occasional dream concerts."

"Pretty sure that's PTSD."

"It's possible."

"I just want to kiss my boyfriend in peace," Nico grumps, falling back in his chair so hard he damn near goes sprawling. He yanks himself up, pink-cheeked, and pretends not to notice the laughter Will hides in his hands, lest he file for divorce. "Stupid godly drama."

"A-fuckin'-men to that."

Will powerwalks past the nursing station, pressing a kiss to his fingers and his fingers to Nico's forehead. Nico resists the urge to grab his hand and pull him backwards, into the V of his legs, into the circle of his arms; instead he watches, chin in his wrist, as Will flutters from cot to cot, smiling gently at the younger kids, rolling his eyes at the older teens. He works as if he has four arms, pouring medicine and humming passing hymns, looping heart monitors in place and encouraging his siblings every time he walks by. For someone who has had to spend a not-insignificant portion of his time in this place since the other Apollo kids lost their vitakinesis, he seems remarkably comfortable. Nico wonders how much of that is learned habit.

"Hey."

Will hums in acknowledgement, sweeping his glowing hands over a kid's broken leg.

"What do you want to eat."

"You just brought me coffee."

"That's a drink, for one. For two, that was four hours ago."

Will blinks. There is still gold ringed around his irises, and his scars and freckles twinkle like stars.

"It has?"

"Mhm."

"Oh -- woah." He stumbles a little, when he stands, steadying himself on the counter until Nico can slip an arm around his waist. "I think I'm maybe, um, done for the day."

"Good," Nico murmurs, glaring at the two campers who open their mouths to complain. "Anyone else can just heal the mortal way for a bit. You need to rest."

Will nods, and Nico guides him out, holding the screen door and taking it slow down the porch steps. Will is warm, more than just the burn from his hands and his throat, and when Nico glances out of the corners of his eyes his cheeks are red and eyes downcast.

"Nobody's watching," Nico promises quietly. "Even if there were, you're just tired."

"I'm limping like a ninety year old man."

"The socks and sandals really sell that look, yeah."

"Shut up."

Nico presses a grinning kiss to his cheek. "No. Come on, Grampa. I'm gonna get you set up in bed and then I'm going to steal, like, twelve sandwiches from the dining hall."

"Barbeque sandwiches?" Will asks hopefully. "Your bed?"

"You're going to get what I give you," Nico snarks, mapping a route to the nearest BBQ place in his head. There's that one on Park and 30th that's open late. "And -- uh, yeah. My bed. If you want."

He is normal about that and Will snickers for no reason, or perhaps because he is dumb in the brain. Por que no los dos. Both.

They make it finally to the black marble steps of Cabin Thirteen, and Will pulls away before Nico can decide whether or not it's worth it to shadow-travel them both inside. He twists and rests both hands on Nico's cheek, cooled down to pleasantly warm, now, and leans in slow until their lips are just nanometers apart, a hairsbreadth of distance between them.

"Thank you," he whispers, near silent in the fading evening.

Nico can only nod.

Will breathes with him for a moment, eyes closed and breath warm. When he opens again the gold is fully gone, and the blue is dark like dusk, almost purpleish.

"I love you," he murmurs. He straightens up and presses one last chaste kiss to Nico's forehead. "Thank you for looking out for me. I'll see you when I wake up."

He climbs carefully up to the cabin, slipping through the heavy doors without tripping over anything, for once. A blessing, maybe, from a clouded father, or from grateful Fates. Nico stares at the door until the sun sinks below the ground and the heat fades from his cheeks, and then he smiles.

He sinks into the shadows in search for twelve sandwiches, and a coke for good measure.

[laviebunnie]

Creepypasta Relationship HCs / Types! 𐙚⋆°.⋆ ( 1 )

Characters : Tobias Rogers ‘Ticci Toby’ , Evan Myers ‘HABIT’ x Reader

Word count : 2k

A/N : hello pookie bears! (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) My request are open right now so please please please spam me with suggestions or fic ideas!!

Tobias Rogers ‘Ticci Toby’ : You were a new beginning, an artistic melody that painted the sky with strokes of light and color. Toby was a faded light, dimmed and jaded— but you lighted his heart ablazed. Once he touched a fragment of heaven, he knew he couldn’t turn away. Because, Toby was never known for being a selfless man.

Toby is someone who desperately wants to be loved— but with how his life turned out, being on the run during his late teens and early twenties, then serving the being that haunted him since he was a child— to put it lightly, Toby never had the time to connect with someone.

It does mess with Toby deep deep deep down— that he isn’t normal, that he can’t build strong relationships— like others do so easily, though it’s something he does crave— he isn’t that delusional; he knows he wouldn’t be able to maintain any sort of relationship anyway.

But that’s thrown out the window when he meets you— I fully believe Toby’s a ‘love’ ( lust ) at first sight type of guy. He tends to fixate on people, starts learning everything about them ( all the parts he likes, anything else he’ll block out.. like it doesn’t exist. ) projects his dream partner onto them, till he gets bored or they break the perfect woman perception— he had for them.

It’s probably a small / insignificant act of kindness that brought Toby’s attention to you.

Maybe it’s when you paid for his meal inna hole and a wall diner / or you helped him when he was injured( even if he doesn’t feel pain— the thought still counts ) / or maybe in passing you complimented his sense of style. No matter how you met Toby, he fell hook and sinker.

In a relationship, I feel that Toby would naturally go for someone more maternal. ( even if your the most masculine woman / person — he’d still project a motherly role onto you. ) He’s so used to older angry masculine male figures in his life— who call him crude names and make him feel less than.

He just wants someone who’s nonjudgmental. Someone who’d love him despite his ugly scars— to kiss them gently, love them like they are art on a canvas.

Toby knows that’s wishful thinking.. and you probably don’t even know he exists but a man can dream.

Toby daydreams about you ALOT, it pisses both Masky and Hoodie off cause the kid won’t do his darn’ job correctly— Masky is one bad day away from grabbing Hoodies gun and blowing Toby’s brains out.

TOBY IS SO AWKWARD IT HURTS.. he isn’t the most social guy ever.. the only real conversations Toby has is either with one his victims.. and Toby barely would call someone begging for the life a conversation— Two, Tim and Brian… and Toby fuckin hates Tim ( the feeling is mutual ) Then Brian… Toby doesn’t exactly have a problem with him.. but Toby thinks Brian a fuckin werido for even liking to be around Tim. Lastly— the voices in his head.. and I won’t elaborate on that.

So when Toby tries to talk to you.. he very creepy— like very fuckin creepy..

Unwavering direct eye contact, prolonged touches, Talking in an unnatural manner, like he’s reading off a shitty 2000’s screenplay.. it’s bad— so bad.. but Toby thinks it went amazingly! Honestly it went better then what he’s been imagining in his head!

I think Toby would try to be a flirt… but he’s straight up tremendous at it— but I wouldn’t recommend telling him that, he has a very small fragile ego.

Realistically.. Even if Toby bagged you, he wouldn’t be able to be with you for long— once his job is over he has to move towns unless..

Yeah, bro kidnapped your ass— are yall really that shocked??

Not gonna lie, getting kidnapped by Toby is lowkey the worst lol ( who would’ve thought?? )

That’s when you’ll learn the most about Toby— mostly how seriously deranged this fucker is.

You’d have to deal with his horrible psychotic episodes, where he trashes the whole fuckin cabin, screaming at you for not loving him back— full on man child tantrums.

Toby most definitely dissects animals for fun.. so good luck with the rotting smell of corpses in your bedroom.

When Toby comes back from ‘work’ he’ll always have a gift for you.. though don’t ask him who or where he got it from— just smile and say thank you.

Toby most definitely stole the password to Tim’s Hulu account.. yall watch anime together.

Toby doesn’t talk much, since he wouldn’t have much to talk about.. ( Toby also hates his stutter/tics.. so he’d rather hear your soothing voice instead of his raspy one ) but he’s a total nerd— Ask him a question about Star Wars and he’ll yap for hours.

Toby accidentally hurts you— more often then he’ll like to admit.. he doesn’t comprehend his strength— and it’s hard to understand a concept you’ve never experienced, so when you cry — he thinks you're being a big baby.

Toby is a DIY husband, always building something new when he’s home— cannot stay still.

You're gonna have to do all the cooking… This man eats like a 3 year old.

Toby loves you unconditionally— though depending on how you treat him, your experience with him will either be hell or decent..

also don’t try to leave the cabin, he’ll find you.

Evan Myers ‘HABIT’ : Evan is losing his mind, a parasite— a monster is taking over his body. It nibbles on his brain, whispering unsavory suggestions into his head. His thoughts aren’t his own anymore, neither is his love for you.

Evan is short-tempered, vulgar, and a bit of a smartass. Not everyone can handle somebody like him— yet there you are ( foolishly ) loving him through everything.

Evan feels his sanity slipping from his grasp, he knows he’s less than sane, that he’s borderline psychotic. He knows the right thing to do is to let you go. That he can’t even trust himself to protect you anymore— especially from himself.

Yet, he selfishly clings onto you, because you are Evan’s breath of fresh air, you're as gentle as a baby bunny, softly holding him throughout his night terrors. Gently patting his tears away with cloth, whispering sweet nothings into his ear— sweet empty promises that everything will be alright— that you’ll stick with him, no matter what— that nothing can take him away from you.

Evan can’t handle the thought of losing you, he’d actually start tweeking out. Especially if slenderman had something to do with it. ( Evan will somehow someway throw slenderman out the window just like he did the rake. )

But seriously— Evan can’t lose you. You are the rainbow after his storm. Evan is a whirlwind of contradicting emotions, yet— you're his only constant that pulls him out of his episodes. He can’t live without you.

You are his distraction, his comfort outside of the hell that is his life. All Evan wants is your touch, your undying nor revering love, and in return he’ll give his everything to you.

Correction: he'll give you everything BUT information on what he does with the EMH ( EverymanHYBRID ) crew.

He has you blocked on all social media, and changed the password to his computer, Evan doesn’t want you involved in his fucked up life.. well more than you already are.

Evan knows that you're not an fuckin’ idiot, there’s only so many times that he can come home with a new injury till you're catching on that the ‘workout’ videos aren’t all he’s doing.

But in Evan’s defense there’s only so many excuses he can make up about how these crazy ass scars keep on randomly appearing on his body— Or the weird brown stains on his jacket.

you're growing more suspicious— even if you don’t directly question him.. he can see in your eyes that you’re worried.

But if Evan were to tell you the truth ( he wouldn’t inna million fucking years ) he doesn’t even know how he’d start that conversation.

“Babe, don’t freak out but.. Y’know slenderman? Yeah, that tall lanky malnourished mother fucker’ that we made fun for having no face? so.. he’s real— surprise! Ohhh, and has been haunting me and the gang for months..and wanna know the best part? I never told you till now! Haha..” yeah no.. Evan rather uses his own body as a pin cushion for his knife collection than ever admit something as lundquist as that.

Evan believes ignorance is bliss ( but only when it comes to you. )

HABIT adores dumb little things, like you. He loves the way your eyes light up whenever he comes home from a long day of ‘work’. HABIT also loves your expressive facial features, how he wishes to contort it, to dismember it into something else entirely new. But what HABIT loves the most is the fact that the ‘man’ you kiss every morning, who you trust unconditionally and let into the deepest crevices of your body, isn’t who you think it is.

HABIT is an inhuman being that predates time itself. He doesn’t have any connection to humanity, only existing to find a suitable host.

It isn’t hard to get HABITS attention, in fact it’s pretty easy. It's just extremely hard to maintain.

But you're so awfully pathetic, kind soul, that he sorta ‘feels’ bad for you. That you ended up with a guy like Evan, and return him.

HABIT finds you interesting, specifically your selflessness. He notices when you go out of your way to help others, or how you consider his feelings whenever you make a decision, or whenever he’s upset, you always make ‘him’, his favorite food.

You're really as sweet as they come, and he’s the murder that wears your boyfriend's skin.

HABIT fucks with you a lot, ‘accidentally’ tripping you, moves your shit around so you can’t find it, constantly trying to scare the shit out of you— just to make fun of you for being scared.

HABIT brings you dead bunny corpses as gifts

HABIT isn’t used to preserving life, that was never really his cup of tea. He prefers breaking down his host, ( or their loved ones ) to their very limit, mentally and physically— till they're unrecognizable from humans or beasts.

Yet, now he does facial saturday’s with you / joins you in your everything showers / and lets you paint his nails any color you want.

It’s not that HABIT, gotten soft— he’s the same evil unforgiving ass mother fucker that possessed your boyfriend, ate a baby, and works with the fuckin slenderman and the rake, you cannot fix him.

HABIT lovesss to mock you, he loves making fun of his dumb little wife for asking ‘dumb questions’— he often flicks your forehead.

HABIT loves that you're a crybaby, he loves wiping your tears away condescendingly— like he wasn’t the one who caused them.

Most definitely daydreams about killing you.. more often than you’d expect— he especially thinks about it when yall are intimate. When HABIT holds you, tracing your body with his fingers— looks at you intensely like you're the only woman in the world— just knows he’s thinking about how you’d look if your organs were spilling out of your stomach.

HABIT unlike Toby can flirt— he never liked the whole brooding boyfriend type of thing— Evan had going on at times— HABIT in his words, ( not anyone else’s ) He’s a simply a little demon, a whimsical silly creature who does things for his own entertainment, and his current fun outside of fuckin’ with the EMH crew is fucking with you. ( sometimes literally )

May that be blowing into your ear, to make you shiver— or picking you up and carrying you, to see your shocked expression — or even holding you by your waist, while the EMH crew is around to embarrass you / prove a point to the group.

HABIT would do it especially when vinnie found out that he processed Evan— the shit eating grin, he would have as you invite Vinnie over to your place for dinner cause ‘he’s been looking stressed lately’ you’ll make Vinnie’s favorite meal, trying to make it feel like old times— but vinnie cannot even enjoy you and your thoughtfulness when your sitting on that monsters that’s cosplaying his best friends lap.. it’s making him sick.

‘Vinnie, are you okay? You.. look pale,’ you ask softly, drink in hand— you walk over to him, handing Vinnie a glass of water.

‘Yeahhh, Vinnie,’ you feel a strong pair of familiar arms wrap around your waist. ‘—What’s wrong buddy?’

ANYWHOO HABIT randomly telling you the most out of pocket shit and just smiles and says,

‘Sorry— hunnie, It’s a bad habit.’

[erodasfishtacos]

A Fix For Loneliness

prompt: YN is learning she has no self-preservation. It’s why she keeps running into her stranger. A man who won’t tell her anything, gives her instructions, and occasionally isn’t downright awful.

word count: 9.5k+

warnings: h is obviously not a good person, violence, blood, medical stuff, mean H, dark H

author's note:

I upload a piece of writing every 1-2 days.

There are multiple other parts of this up and will be updated this month

I recently started a second tier called The OG Tier where 2

one shots (1-4kish) are posted a week.

There are currently 350 + pieces available to read

Tier I - $3 USD where you get access to main stories, everything except the mini one shots.

Tier II - $5 USD where you get access to every piece of writing!

you can check it out here

first FIFTEEN to click here can get a free $5 membership for a month!

A little reminder, my prices are still $3USD and $5USD - you have to sign up via web browser and NOT through the App Store - they are charging fees now!

———

YN was too kind.

She knew that.

It’s why she became a nurse, to help others in their time of need, and that’s exactly what she did in the emergency department of her local hospital.

When she was walking down a back alley one night (she knew it wasn’t safe but it was such a quicker shortcut after a thirteen hour shift she couldn’t ignore it even if it was one in the morning).

YN’s half-asleep on her feet when she runs into quite the scene, a man who has to be around her age was dressed in dark jeans and a black tee shirt.

There was blood dripping from his jaw and his bottom lip was swollen up, already bruising under the drying blood.

He had just tossed something into the dumpster before slamming the lid shut with a deafening echo and despite the warning signals, YN can’t ignore him.

“Oh my goodness. You’re bleeding, sir,” YN jumps into nurse mode, hurrying up to him and without permission, tilting his head gently to the side.

The man narrows his eyes at her, clearly taken aback, and takes three big steps away from her reach towards the opposite building.

He makes a show of spitting out a mouthful of blood onto the pavement before wiping his mouth crudely with the back of his hand.

His voice was deep and scratchy, it matched his appearance, his accent thick and rough, “M’fucking fine. Back off and mind your own god damn business.”

YN is used to fiesty patients, it doesn’t phase her much as she examines him from afar now, “I’m a nurse.”

The man sneers at her, “Surprisingly, I’m not fucking blind. I don’t want your help. Run the fuck along now, little miss hero.”

YN glances down, still in her scrubs, of course he would see she’s a nurse, and distraught at this man refusing help.

She’s tired, she’s overworked, and the fact that she knows she’ll perseverate on this if he doesn’t let her help makes her choke out a frustrated sniffle.

The brunette man, with a scowl of impatience scoffs of disbelief, “Are you really about to fuckin’ cry?”

“I jus-just want to help. I lost tw-two patients today and couldn’t-couldn’t save them,” YN begins to tear up now, wiping her eyes, it was always a hard day when she lost patients.

Two today.

An older woman with a heart attack.

A teen in a car accident.

���Fucks sake,” The bloody man groans under his breath, his eyes darting up and down the alleyway, “You’re going to cause a scene over this, aren’t you? I don’t have bloody time for this.”

He stomps towards her which makes her freeze but he stands in front of her with a agitated flick of his hand, “If you’re going to do your nurse shit, do it! I don’t have god damn time for your cry baby act. Of course, I get my plans ruined.”

YN obviously doesn’t know what he’s talking about but he seems like he has places to be and she’s holding him up.

Where on earth could he go with his face looking like that anyways?

“I-I don’t have anything with me,” YN stutters after a moment, this man was intimidating as he had major height advantage, he appeared lean but his muscle definition proved he was strong.

“Okay, then see ya’,” He grunts lowly, moving to turn on his heel but YN grabs his wrist without thinking to stop him.

“My-uh, my apartment,” YN’s throat is dry, what the fuck is she doing, “I have the stuff at my apartment up the street.”

“Did your parents never teach you stranger danger? Inviting a man you’ve never met, bleeding, up to your apartment?” He asks with an eyebrow raise, wiping his continuous bleeding wound with his shirt, flashing a sliver of his carved abdominal muscles.

“You need help,” YN replies unsurely, her behaviors are so uncharacteristic but she felt drawn to help this stranger.

A small group of people pass the corridor of the alleyway, with laughs and drunk words, and the man she’s standing with perks up at high alert.

“Fuck,” He hisses angrily, that seemed to be his favorite word, yanking his hand out of her grip and muttering so softly YN doesn’t know whether she heard him right, “gonna get me caught.”

“Stand over there and turn around,” The man demands sharply, YN wasn’t used to being talked to that way but she finds herself walking towards the edge of the alley and turning away.

YN hears rustling, the dumpster being open and closed again, and a few unidentifiable noises before she hears his footsteps approaching.

His hand on her shoulder is tight as he spins her around, “If I let you fix me up, will you leave me the fuck alone and more importantly, never mention this to anyone?”

YN’s brow furrows, “Why can’t I tell-“

The man hisses in agitation, fingers digging into her skin more has harshly, “Answer me.”

It’s the first time that chills are sent down her spine at his gritted words, everything in her is screaming to run, her fight or flight triggered.

“I-I won’t tell,” YN agrees breathlessly, skin tingling when he lets go and pushes her forward, not aggressively but enough that she stumbles.

“Then move already,” He orders and when she tries to turn around to look at him, his hand comes to her neck, keeping her facing forward.

Whatever he was doing in that alley, he really didn’t want her to see, and he didn’t seem like he was open to answering questions.

YN keeps trying to justify why she’s letting a bleeding, angry man into her home as she shakily unlocks the door.

There’s no justification.

She’s putting herself in so much danger.

It had to be something about how attractive he was that made her trusting that he wouldn’t hurt her, like he was too pretty to be deadly.

A trick of the eye, maybe.

He stands in the entry hall, unmoving, and uncomfortable as he doesn’t look around, keeping his gaze on her.

“I want you to know that I’m only allowing you to do this so that you don’t run around and squeal, alright?” He reminds her, voice a bit louder to scare her.

YN nods.

“I also know where you live now, stupid girl,” He shakes his head, like he’s in disbelief YN was such an idiot, “I won’t hesitate to come back.”

She was.

Stupid.

Now her fingers were trembling as she accidentally drops her keys.

“Bat-bathroom,” YN whispers as she pokes her thumb in that direction, “Uh, my supplies.”

“I’ll stay here. I’m not coming in any further,” He crosses his arms, akin to a cornered animal who’s about to be trapped.

YN hopes he doesn’t see when she nearly trips over her own feet as she makes her way to her small bathroom, her nursing/first aid kit was under the sink.

He’s standing in the exact same place he was before, he hadn’t moved an inch, and fuck, he’s scary.

“Um, can you please sit there?” YN points nervously to the entryway bench, not coming closer until he begrudgingly sits on the edge.

“Hurry the fuck up,” He snaps at her suddenly, shaking his leg impatiently and the abruptness makes her jump, “I haven’t got all day, miss lil’ hero.”

It doesn’t sound like an compliment rolling off his tongue.

YN pulls out a cotton pad, soaking it with antiseptic fluid, and shakily says, “This is going to sting a bit. I’m just cleaning it first.”

He doesn’t acknowledge her but he does flinch when she puts her fingertips on his jaw to move his head more to the side.

When she applies the pad, if it hurts, he doesn’t give anything away, his eyes don’t even blink as he sits with his hands on his knees.

After get a fresh cotton pad and drenching it again, she moves onto his lip, and she’s so on-edge, she stumbles over his foot and falls forward.

The man grips her hips hard, pushing her back upright, and appears even more agitated as he huffs, “Chill the fuck out, alright? M’not going to do shit to you. I don’t even want to be here. You’re the one who dragged me to your apartment. Stop being so fuckin’ dramatic.”

YN’s not going to cry despite her bottom lip quivering.

YN’s father was a calm quiet man

She didn’t grow up with brothers.

She wasn’t used to being treated so bluntly, so rudely by anyone, let alone a stranger she was trying to help.

“Are you about to cry?” He asks in surprise, a cruel laugh leaving his throat as he smiles widely, he has dimples, “You’re such a delicate little flower.”

Again, it was definitely an insult.

YN’s throat contracts as she pushes down tears and it wasn’t just because of him, today was hard and she was tired.

“You don’t need stiches. The cut on your jaw is superficial, just a lot bleeding ,” YN determines as she uses a butterfly bandage to close the wound tightly.

YN tilts his chin towards her, his eyes were striking in how green they were as they blinked up at her from under dark lashes.

They were just as frightening as they were beautiful because there was something about meeting his gaze that was like staring at a hungry lion.

YN starts to dab at it with the pad again as it slowly oozes.

She can feel his gaze on her face, it’s making the hair stand up on her arms.

“Skin is just uh, irritated. Nothing major,” YN tells him, holding pressure to stop the bleeding, “How did you get this banged up anyways?”

That triggers him.

He stands up suddenly, making her stumble backwards, and he steps into her space until her back is up against the wall and he’s cornering her.

“I don’t know what bad luck I was dealt to have to deal with such a nosey bitch in my business but you better stop asking questions,” He warns as she can feels his breath, he smelled surprisingly good like citrus and sage.

“I’m sorry,” YN chokes out, it was feeling harder to breathe now.

What the fuck did she get herself into?

“For fucks sake, calm your ass down,” He grunts as he directs her to sit on the bench he was just on, “Stop being a god damn drama queen.”

YN can’t reply, simply nods and stares at the ground.

Why did she let this man in her home?

She needed her head examined, clearly.

He squats in front of her, eyes deadly intent, “I’m going to leave right now. You’re going to keep your mouth shut. If you talk about anything that you saw tonight, I’ll have no problem visiting here again.”

YN nods again, watching him stand and he’s still looking at her as he sighs, hand on the doorknob and says, “Do not ever invite a stranger into your house again, you stupid girl.”

+

YN wishes that she didn’t think about that man again.

But she does.

Over and over.

Every time she walks past an alley.

When she walks home at one in the morning.

But months pass.

No signs of him.

It was a big city.

She didn’t know whether he lived here or not, hell, she didn’t even get his first name during the interaction.

Six months and no signs.

YN dreams about him three separate times.

One of which make her question her sanity.

+

“Be quiet f’me,” He whispers against her lips, hand wrapped around her throat, “Don’t want to hear you unless you’re moaning pretty.”

YN’s staring wide eyed at him, trying to beg with her eyes as he brings her lips to his by the grip on her neck.zzz

“Gonna show me what a nice lil’ pet you can be?” His dimple is popping as he licks her lips before squeezing a bit tighter, “Can’t wait to feel your cun-“

YN wakes up by her alarm, heart pounding, and a hand coming up to touch her throat, the ghost of where she felt his fingertips.

She takes a very cold shower that morning before work.

++

Matthew was nice enough.

He was an emergency medicine doctor which is how they met in the unit.

They rarely worked the same shift but in passing, he had managed to pull YN aside and ask if she’d be interested in going on a date.

YN wasn’t necessarily jumping for joy but she was bored, life was pretty mundane at the moment, and her romantic life was nonexistent.

He was overly cocky, the type of doctor who liked to wear his scrubs into the grocery store so everyone knew his title, corrected people when they didn’t address him with Doctor first.

She didn’t realize that this is how she would meet her stranger once again.

++

The first date was in the afternoon, at a coffee shop in midtown and he had picked the spot.

“I come here atleast once a day,” He laughs as he orders a large black coffee and a bran muffin of all things, “Same ole’ routine.”

“I’ve only been here a handful of times-“ YN pauses when she catches a familiar flash of green, knowing the color distinctly.

She’s been dreaming of it.

Her stranger.

He was sitting in a booth, in the furtherest spot back in the corner with a coffee and a pastry that hadn’t even been taken out of the wax paper.

YN’s heart seizes, blinking twice to make sure that she is not imaging this, that it isn’t just a look alike man.

His unsettlingly intense stare, the scowl etched on his face, it was no doubt the man who had been invading her thoughts for the last six months.

He doesn’t break eye contact first, YN glances back to her steaming chai tea first, lying easily, “Sorry, thought I saw an old friend.”

“Yeah, I run in to quite a few here too,” Matthew agrees without notices her slight shift in demeanor as she forces herself to focus on their conversation.

YN gives herself permission about three minutes later to let her eyes flit across the room, back to that corner.

He was gone.

His coffee and pastry gone.

There was already a new couple sitting there.

YN is half-convinced that she imagined it in the first place, how did she not see him get up and walk past her?

Had that couple been sitting there the whole time?

“I’m so sorry, Matthew. I have to run to the restroom, excuse me a minute?” YN smiles, hoping it doesn’t come off as forced as she stands up and heads towards the back.

YN goes into one of the stalls, sitting down for a moment and just taking a deep breathe because she can’t figure herself out right now.

YN can’t sit in her forever which she wishes she hadn’t even agreed to this date.

When YN unlocks the stall door, she begins to let out a scream when there’s a figure leaning up against the sink, waiting for her.

The person rushes forward, clamping a hand over her mouth as citrus and sage overwhelm her senses .

“Shut the fuck up, right now.”

Why does YN almost slump in relief at the harsh words?

Maybe because this proves that she didn’t conjure him up in her head.

To confirm that he was as startlingly handsome as she has been remembering him to be in the last months.

Even more so actually.

“Are you going scream when I take my hand off?” He asks pointedly, his lips were near her ear, whispering but seeming so loud.

YN shakes her head vehemently that she won’t.

She should scream.

She’s not going to though.

He takes a few steps back, no longer even close to touching her, and once again, he looks angry at her as complains, “Lil’ fucking drama queen.”

This is definitely her stranger.

YN just stares at him, eyes as wide as saucers.

“Why are you here with him?” He asks with the same agitation, his fists were clenched against his sides tightly.

“Do you know Matthew?” YN was confused by his question or why he would care.

“What did I tell you?” He snaps at her, taking a step forward again like he wants to grab her, “Don’t ask me questions.”

“Why can you ask me then?” YN doesn’t know where the confidence is coming from, puffing up her chest.

It gets finished quickly when he brings his hand up to hold her chin, “It’s different. Now answer me.”

YN’s blood pressure must be through the roof right now as she manages to find her voice, “I’m on a date with him.”

The stranger doesn’t like that answer.

His fingertips tighten on her skin before releasing, his tongue peeks out to run over his bottom lip, “I recommend you stay the fuck away from him.”

“Why?”

“You clearly have no sense of self-preservation so I’m trying to save you a lot of trouble in the future. End the date, make an excuse, and don’t go out with him again.”

“I want to know one thing,” YN request as she chews on her bottom lip.

“No.”

“What’s your name?”

“Harry.”

They stare at each other.

YN can’t decipher if he’s being truthful or not.

As he did the night they first met, her puts a firm hand on her shoulder, and guides her towards the bathroom exit.

With his lips touching the shell of her ear, he reminds her with a hiss, “Go do exactly as I say. Leave and go the fuck home.”

He pushes her forward, she puts her arms up to avoid smashing her face off the door, and pushes it open, tripping out into the hallway.

YN legs are wobbly as she makes her way back the table, “Matthew, I am so sorry. I’m really not feeling well.”

“You look as if you’ve seen a ghost,” He teases as he stands up and pushes his chair in.

No, I just saw my stranger.

“Would you like me to walk you home?”

“Nope. I’m good, don’t want you coming down with whatever bug I have,” She replies with a dismisses wave of her hand, willing herself not to look back towards the bathrooms.

“I’ll text you to reschedule. I hope you start to feel better soon. Please text me if you need anything,” Matt smiles genuinely, a concerned expression on his face.

Why didn’t Harry want her to be around him?

How did he have the right to order her around when he wouldn’t answer simple questions?

YN’s mind is reeling as she walks home.

It’s like she expects to see her stranger, watching her walk home but there’s no sign of him, and just like that he disappeared into thin air.

++

YN visits the coffee shop multiple more times.

He’s never there.

Matthew texts her multiple times checking on her, offering to bring her soup or medication, and telling her what a good time he had.

In an act of defiance, against her stranger who has only come into her life twice but has occupied her mind ten-fold, she agrees to another date.

It’s not as if Harry will find out but it still felt freeing to actively disobey his warning.

And so when Matthew asks…

Matthew: If you’re feeling better, I would love to take you out this weekend.

YN feels a sense of guilt that she’s thinking more of her stranger than Matthew when she replies.

YN: I would absolutely love that. Just let me know how to dress. :)

+

That is how she finds herself inside of a nice restaurant on Saturday night, dressed in a satin dress and strappy heels that she hadn’t worn in ages.

Matthew had picked her up in his run of the mill, base model sports car, that was flashy but in quite an unimpressive way.

He was dressed in a nice suit and managed to get reservations at an exclusive, small restaurant in the heart of the city.

Matthew and her were sitting at a two person table toward the back.

Next to them was a round table with place settings for six that was yet to be occupied, the notecard only specifying, ‘Styles, Party of Six.’

They are being poured their first very expensive glass of Pinot Noir when a group of men, somewhat boisterous and rowdy for the setting, are seated at the round table next to them.

“And so Doctor Flint told me that the cadaver ligament we were to use was lost. How on earth do you misplace a body part?” Matthew laughs whilst he tells her this story from the old hospital he worked at.

YN was trying to focus but she hears a voice that is eerily familiar.

“Settle down. This isn’t a fucking bar.”

The hair on the back of her neck stands straight up.

Her stranger.

This isn’t a coincidence.

It can’t be.

YN refuses to look up, past Matthew’s head because she’s terrified of what she might see or more like what she knows she’ll see.

“He put it in the employee fridge! Can you believe that?” Matthew honks out a laugh, slapping the table like he just told the world's funniest jokes.

“That’s insane,” YN agrees, forcing a fake laugh out of her suddenly dry throat, “Sounds like it could be a scene from a movie.”

YN knows that he’s watching her.

It’s the untold feeling that’s inkling up her spine.

She feels in danger for the first time.

Real danger.

How on earth is he sitting across from her?

Is he following her?

That had to be the only answer.

Had she acquired a stalker by helping him all those months ago and the coffee shop just sparked it again?

But that does equate to what he warned about Matthew?

YN convinces herself that she didn’t hear his voice, that it’s all in her head, and she’s going to look up to confirm that she was in fact going insane.

After a deep breath, YN tilts her chin up and gazes directly into the eyes of the man she was praying wasn’t staring back.

Her stranger was positively fuming, he was leveling her with a downright murderous glare that actually made her concerned for her safety.

YN darts her eyes back towards Matthew and ignores Harry for as long as humanly possible as he chats on with his friends.

Everything is working out until her date excuses himself to the restroom, before the main course comes out.

Fuck.

YN anxiously pulls out her phone to distract herself.

Until someone is plucking her mobile right out her hands, a thumb pressing into the nape of her neck as a warning to keep looking forward.

“Bathroom. Five minutes after he gets back,” Her stranger leans down to speak into her ear, he moves so sleekly that she’s never even been alerted he got up.

“My pho-“

“You’ll get it back when you meet me in the bathroom,” Harry tells her before he’s standing up and walking back to his table, slipping her cell into his suit jacket pocket.

Did he really just steal her phone?

YN digs her nails into her palm, keeping an eye on the clock after Matthew sits down, waiting until the five minute mark before excusing herself.

There’s only a single bathroom which when she pushes through the already cracked open door, her stranger is leaning against the counter like last time.

YN takes the initiative to lock it behind her.

She shouldn’t but she does.

“Give me my phone back,” YN demands, unsure of where the bravado is coming from as she steps further into the room.

Harry doesn’t give her a wicked smile, his lips are tight, and his jaw is clenched.

He is absolutely pissed.

“What the fuck did I tell you last time, stupid girl?” Harry’s volume is louder than she anticipated, making her jump in surprise.

YN doesn’t respond, the heart palpitations that were now the norm for her interaction with this man are in full effect.

“Come here,” Harry orders furiously, moving away from the counter.

YN stands her ground.

“I said come the fuck here or I’ll smash your phone right off this god damn floor,” He threatens as he watches her, lip twitching in displeasure at her not listening the first time.

YN really would rather not pay for a new cell phone at the moment and slowly, she drags her feet towards him.

”Yeah, I don’t have time for your lil’ drama queen bullshit tonight, darling,” Harry sneers as he grabs her by the waist, moving her forcefully until he can pick her up and sit her on the sink counter.

YN readjusts her dress, she’d heard a slight rip but she wasn’t going to point that out at the moment.

Harry’s hand comes to her jaw, gripping it and forcing their eyes level, “Are you trying to get yourself killed? Is that what this is? Or do you lack any semblance of common sense?”

It’s hard for YN to talk with his hand holding her jaw, her words jumbled when she garbles out, “Why are you following me?”

His brows furrow in confusion, “You think I’m following you?”

”What are the chances that you show up in two places that I’ve been? While I’m on a date? Unless you’re following Matt….” YN trails off because that would make no sense, it was much more likely that he was following her around.

It was clear Matt had no idea who Harry was because he hadn’t recognized or acknowledge him at the coffee shop or at dinner when Matt would have definetly seen him when he was returning from his bathroom break.

Harry grip tightens enough that she squeaks, trying to pull away, and he hadn’t even seemed to realize he was using much force because it instantly loosens again.

Oddly, he reaches his thumb out to run along her jawbone, and it’s half comforting, half annoyed when he mutters, “You’re fine. Stop.”

She was pretty far from fine at this point.

”Are you that desperate for a lay?” Harry asks bluntly, he was standing in between her thighs and if anyone would have walked into this room, they would be under a much different impression than what’s actually going on.

”Excuse me?” YN gasps, affronted at his questioning.

Harry rolls his eyes at he reaction, his thumb was still rubbing against her skin but his grip had him in control, “I specifically told you to never associate with that guy. Here you are a week later, dressed up all pretty f’him, and what…you gonna let him take you home?”

If YN didn’t know any better, there sounded like some jealously in his tone.

”I don’t know what was going to happen after dinner,” YN bites out, trying to exercise her jaw muscle against his fingertips, “Maybe I would have let him take me home and fuck me.”

Harry’s eyes darken, his pupils dialating further in his anger, and his hand moves from her jaw to the side of her neck, thumb ghosting over her pressure point as a silent threat.

”Can I tell you what I think?” Harry murmurs, with the smallest hint of a smile like he’s cracked the code to something.

”You’re going to anyways,” YN mumbles, her own annoyance flooding her body.

”You’re not even into him. I think you agreed to this date just to spite my warning, huh? Tell me I’m wrong,” Harry’s voice is deeper, smoother, and downright dangerous.

”I do-“

”Tell. Me. I’m. Wrong,” He recites each word distinctly, his teeth gritted as his eyes dart from her eyes to his grip on her throat to her lips back to her eyes in a vicious cycle.

YN bites at her bottom lip, worrying it between her teeth as she doesn’t know why Harry is so good at figuring her out but now she doesn’t feel like she’s in a position to lie either.

She avoids it by saying, “I don’t know you. You won’t let me ask questions. Why should I trust you? There was no reason not to go on another date. Why because of your ominous warning?”

”Yes because of my fucking warning,” He snaps back at her, stepping further between her thighs until their chests are nearly bumping and his familiar scent is lingering against her, “I know what I’m talking about. Stay the fuck away from him.”

YN shouldn’t push his buttons.

She should oblige, agree, and then avoid him for the rest of her life.

But as always, she goes against all those natural instincts and eggs him on further.

”Well then who would I go home with tonight?”

Harry doesn’t appreciate that comment.

Not by the way he’s moving to wraps his fingers around her wrist and tug her off the counter, “I’m taking you home now.”

“Wait, I-“ YN responds in surprise, not resisting his hold as he helps her onto her feet, her high heels were not made for this type of activity.

”No, you want to keep playing with me? You’re going to lose, every fucking time,” Harry retorts as he begins to lead her towards the door, “You’re going to go home to your own apartment, by yourself. Use your fingers, a toy, I don’t really care but you’re not going home with that guy.”

YN feels awful that Matthew is sitting out there, their main courses about to be served, and it will be the second time that she is ditching him when neither had been her intention.

“My dress,” YN stops moving, right as his hand is on the doorknob, “You fucking ripped it. I cannot go outside like this.”

It was true, from the stretch of the countertop, the already high-cut slit on the right side of her dress was now up to her hip, flashing the obnoxiously red lace she had on underneath.

Harry’s eyes move down with a cluck of his tongue, “Really fuckin’ desperate, huh?”

But before YN can defend herself, he’s shrugging out of his suit jacket and wrapping it around her waist, tying it in the front, and it hangs enough to cover at least where her underwear is flashing.

”There, now come the fuck on. I have shit to do,” Harry retakes her hand, tight and firm as he opens the bathroom door, and instead of going towards the dining hall, he’s going further back into the hallway.

He’s letting them out of an emergency exit into an alleyway.

She expects him to dismiss her, to tell her to get home, and to not contact Matt again.

Instead, what actually happens is that he continues walking with her, out of the alleyway and towards the streets that will lead to her apartment, seeing as he definetly didn’t forget where she lived.

YN was cold, goosebumps breaking out along her arms as her bare arms hit the windchill, her jacket left at the restaurant.

“My jacket,” YN points out, pauses quick enough that Harry nearly bumps into her from where he was following closely behind.

His hands come to her shoulders, encouraging her with a bit of force to keep walking, “I’ll have one of my friends grab it.”

YN hated walking in these heels, it’s why she had spent the money on the Uber.

“It’s cold,” YN complains as they’re about halfway there, he’s only a step behind her, ready to grab her at any moment.

“Walk faster then,” Harry replies in a bored tone, his hands once again moving to her shoulder to give her a light shove forward.

YN wants to scream, maybe unstrap her heel, and hit him with it because he was truly the most incorrigible person that she has ever met in her life.

Her stranger stays silent until they make it to her door, he easily ignores the unflattering comments YN makes under her breath, only receiving a shove or push as a response.

When YN fumbles for her keys, Harry waits like he’s invited in, and YN doesn’t have the will right now to fight.

As soon as they get in, Harry shuts the door behind them and she plops on her couch to start unstrapping the heels.

Her hands are shaking.

She wants to blame the cold but she knows it’s her nerves.

“Pathetic, shaking like a leaf,” Harry huffs as he watches, kneeling down and smacking her hands away, heavy rings stinging her skin, and he begins to undo them himself, “Can’t even get your own shoes off and you want to act like you're tough with me.”

YN watches, heart in her throat at the sight of her stranger kneeling in front of her, his hand wrapped tightly around her ankle as the other fusses with the straps.

Why does she get this deep pitted urge to rile him up, just when he starts to act calm?

“I’m going to see Matthew again,” YN wishes her words had come out with a bit more confidence even though they were a downright lie.

Harry stops his actions, blinking up at her with an unreadable expression, “No.”

“You can’t-“

Harry lunges upward, eye level and angry once again, his teeth were gritted as he went to his usual means of control.

A firm grip of her chin.

“I can. I am telling you I can. Leave it the fuck alone and move on. You don’t even like the bloke,” Harry calls her out, it’s a statement, not a question.

“I haven’t even got to know him-“

“Nor do you need to. Stop fuckin’ around because you’re making my life harder by doing this. And I really don’t like when people make my life harder. Especially spoiled lil’ drama queens,” He’s getting agitated enough that his grip gets harsh, painful, and she flinches in response.

Just like last time, he loosens his hold and his frown deepens, “M’not going to hurt you. Don’t have to act like that.”

“Yes, as you squeeze me. I don’t even know who the fuck you are,” YN pulls out of his grip, he allows it but his other hand is still on her ankle.

“It doesn’t matter who I am,” Her stranger argues, “Bottom line. Stop. Fucking. Up. My. Plans.”

”I don’t even know what they are,” YN shots back, she felt like they were talking in riddles at this point.

”Go to work, do your cute little nurse shit, and come home,” Harry repeats through clenched teeth, he finally moves to take off her other high heel.

”Forever?” YN snorts sarcastically, wriggling until she can untie his suit jacket from around her waist, making it a point to toss it next to him on the floor.

She felt even more satisfaction when she realized it was a Gucci piece.

Harry’s eyes stay directly staring into hers.

”Until I tell you elsewise,” He replies cryptically, “You’ve ruined enough things f’me. I need you to stop or m’going to have to do something to make you. Don’t try to think you’re smart and defy me. I’ll know.”

YN’s head is spinning, “You’re telling me I’m not supposed to date or have a social life until you say so? A stranger I don’t even know?”

”If you want to stay out of danger. Yes,” He replies like it’s that simple, he’d taken off both of her heels by this point and didn’t seem to realize that he was still holding her foot, thumb pressing into the arch on the bottom.

”This isn’t fair,” YN feels her throat tighten.

Fuck, she was not going to cry.

”It doesn’t have to be fair. Life isn’t fuckin’ fair, darling,” Harry’s voice is venomous as he speaks, his accent was distinct and each word was enounciated harshly.

”Maybe I should just risk it,” YN slouches back into the couch, kicking his hand off of her.

”No, you won’t fuckin’ risk it,” Harry leans up, his hands on either side of her knees, and it would be an intimate position giving any other circumstance, “You need a date that bad? Having a dry spell, pet?”

There’s a roughness in his voice that makes her want to close her thighs.

God, what the fuck is wrong with her?

She is quiet literally being threatened by a stranger and she feels arousal pooling in her belly?

She’s going to fucking die at this rate.

”You said I can’t go out. It doesn’t mean that I can’t have someone come back to my place,” YN is fucking with him at this point, to rile him up even further when she should be doing the exact opposite, “My sex life counldn’t possible interfere with your ‘plans’.”

Harry’s jaw flexes under his skin, if looks could fucking kill.

”Do you need a lesson?” Harry sits up, his hand shifting to her hip and it sends a shockwave through her.

His fingertips were ghosting over the exposed red lace, lightly, curiously.

”A le-lesson?” YN stutters, eyes wide and god, she wanted to spread her legs further.

”Yes, a lesson. To keep you in this god damn house,” Harry reiterates as his fingers slip underneath the thin fabric near the waistband, snapping the elastic against her hips and making her jump, “Do I need to show you how to use your fingers? Buy you a god damn toy? Something because I need you to stay in this fuckin’ house and I don’t know how many different ways to emphasize it.”

YN knows how to use her fingers but there’s something about the texture, calloused roughness of her stranger’s that make her want his instead.

She wasn’t some sex-hungry feign.

Her currently dry spell had been lasting over the past year.

It was something in particular about her stranger that made her realize just how long it had been.

She wasn’t made uncomfortable by his finger wandering by her hip.

Despite how threatening, how out of line this man was, for some reason she felt like she could trust him not to hurt or take advantage of her.

She had never been this risk-taking in her entire life.

And this isn’t normal risk-taking.

”I know how to use them,” YN bleats back, heart jumping when his thumb rubs over the thin skin of her hip, his hand slipping just underneath the fabric of her dress, “Just don’t like to.”

“Then you’re not doing it right,” Harry shakes his head, a bit more solemn and quiet for the moment as he watches his hand.

There’s a pause.

A long enough moment of silence that it reels Harry right back into reality.

He straightens up before standing, kicking her shoes aggressively out of his way as he storms towards the door, “You better fuckin’ listen to me. It really won’t end well for you if you don’t.”

“When will I -“

When will I see you again?

When can I not be a prisoner in my own house?

Why am I going to be a prisoner in my own house?

What the fuck is he trying to protect me from?

What plans am I fucking up?

There’s all those questions and more on the tip of her tongue but she can’t even get the first one out before Harry is cutting her off.

”You’ll know. Now lock your fuckin’ doors and go the fuck to sleep.”

YN also doesn’t know anyone who used the word ‘fuck’ as much as her stranger.

But she finds herself listening as he slams the door on his way out, trembling on it’s rusty hinges, and locking it behind him like he couldn’t manage a way in if he really want.

YN didn’t know exactly what he was up to, but it wasn’t good.

++

It was six days until YN had to face Matthew.

YN had been surprised that she hadn’t received any text or calls.

Then she goes into her settings, realizing that while Harry had stolen her phone that he’d manage to block his number, delete their conversation, and delete his contact information on top of it.

Fucking dick.

YN can’t avoid Matthew in the cafeteria.

As she’s waiting in line for her salad to be made and he strides right up to her with a displeased expression she’d never seen on his normally smile-laden face.

”If you didn’t like me, you could have just said so before standing me up twice,” Matthew tells her, he’s trying to keep his tone casual as he acts like he’s reading the nutritional facts on the back of his energy drink.

”I am so sorry,” YN doesn’t look at him, looking directly at the woman making their food instead as she works, “It’s…this isn’t like me. It has nothing to do with you, I promise. I’ve just had some….issues that had unexpectantly popped up.”

Matthew scoffs, slamming his tray down a bit too aggressively, “If you’re going to lie, at least make it beleiveable. Do you know how lucky you were that I gave you a chance? I’m a fucking doctor. You’re a nurse. You should be chasing me, not elsewise.”

YN squeezes her eyes shut because it’s not worth starting a fight in the middle of their workplace, “Matt, I’m really just trying to enjoy my lunch break on my fourteen hour shift. Please, just leave me alone. Like I said, I’m sorry about what transpired. It’s on me.”

Matthew surprises her by ducking to whisper in her ear, “You are a no one, YN.”

++

None of this would have happened if it wasn’t for her stranger.

She wouldn’t be feeling so useless.

Alone.

It had been four months since she’d seen her stranger.

Not one trace of him.

Despite the fact that she had been listening, she didn’t go out on dates, and she didn’t bring anyone home.

A nice nurse anesthetist named Paul had wanted to take her out on a date, YN was somewhat interested but turned him down gently, stating that she wasn’t ready for a relationship.

It made her angrier as the months went on.

She hated her stranger.

She missed her stranger.

++

It’s takes four and a half excruciatingly isolating months until something changes.

YN had a ten hour shift tonight which wouldn’t have been bad but she hasn’t had a day off in nearly two weeks and she was run ragged.

YN had the next three off to recuperate which would start by passing out immediately in her bed after showering.

When YN unlocks her front door, her eyes are heavily lidded as she locks it behind her, flipping on the switch, and kicking off her black tennis shoes.

”It’s ‘bout fuckin’ time.”

YN drops her water bottle, her phone, and her purse - causing all the contents to start to spill and roll out.

”Jesus Christ, so jumpy, m’little drama queen,” He laughs meanly as his voice doesn’t come any closer.

YN hasn’t looked at him yet but has a sneaking suspicion that her stranger is sitting comfortably on her couch after breaking in.

She should be worried as to why he’s here.

Instead she feels a flair of anger bubble up in her chest, “Four and half fucking months. You let me be alone with nothing and no one for four and a half months, Harry.”

When she turns to face him, her anger quickly dissipates when she realizes that he’s injured.

He’s shirtless, which YN doesn’t have time to let herself look over his tattoos, his rippled muscles, any of it because he’s currently holding his balled up white shirt to his eyebrow.

There was barely any white fabric to be seen, sodden with dark red blood.

“Oh my god,” YN gasps as she steps over her spilled items, rushing towards the couch.

There were streaks of blood trailing down the side of his face, leaving a trace all the way down to his pecs where it finally dried.

“I’m fine. I just need you to do your lil’ hero act on me, okay?” His teeth are stained red from where his bloody lip has poured into his mouth.

YN feels awake suddenly, rushing to her bathroom to retrieve her kit, and running back to her living room just as fast.

“Harry, I don’t-“ YN fumbles, nearly dropping her supplies, going completely scatter-brained in panic and the shock of seeing her stranger after so long.

”Hey,” Harry replies, loud enough to make her jump, and with his free hand, he does what he always does, grips her chin and levels their eye contact, “Stop freaking out. Isn’t this what your fuckin’ job is? Do you do this at the hospital?”

YN shakes her head, “This is different.”

“Well then act like it’s not,” Harry’s hold on her isn’t as rough as it normally is and she has a creeping suspicion that he’s smeared his blood on her face but that was the least of her concerns.

YN goes to her kitchen sink, scrubbing her hand thoroughly before tucking her hands into a pair of latex gloves before she’s removing his destroyed shirt to examine the actual injury.

It wasn’t the worst that she had ever seen but it was far more serious than the injuries that he had the first time that she saw him.

”I’m going to do the same thing as last time. I’m going to clean it first,” YN informs him through shaky breath as she soaks a cotton pad to begin to swipe over the split skin gently.

Harry, once again, doesn’t show any type of reaction that it’s painful.

He only continues to stare at her face as she does her job.

When the cut is completely cleaned up, YN’s able to examine it better, and realizes that he definitely needs stitches.

”You need at least five or six stitches,” YN tells him after taking a step back, peeling off the gloves, “Do you want me to drive you to the hospital?”

Harry doesn’t move, his chest is moving steadily, calm as ever.

”No, I want you to stitch me up,” Harry replies like that’s a normal request.

”I don’t have numbing medication or pain medication, I-“

”I don’t need it. Will you come the fuck on?” He pushes, sitting up a bit straighter, and he has no right to get annoyed at her right now when he’s the one causing all of this.

YN knows she shouldn’t do what he’s asking.

Shouldn’t give in to another one of his demands.

But she does.

”Fine,” YN lets out a long exhale, digging through her kit for another pair of gloves and the material for sutures.

”Wait f’a minute,” Her stranger interrupts her, hand coming to grip her hip, and bring her attention back to him, “I don’t want you fuckin’ shaking while you do it. I need you to calm down, okay? Everything is fine, right? You know that.”

”I don’t know that,” YN frowns as she rummages through her kit, ignoring that he wants her eyes on him, “I don’t know anything anymore. I don’t even know you but I’ve listened to you for the past five months.”

“I know you have,” He replies simply.

Was he watching her?

”And nothing bad happened to you, did it?” Harry prompts, squeezing her hip encouraging her to look at him.

YN begrudgingly does, surprised by the softness on his face, his normal harsh frown lines had dissipated.

”No,” YN agrees honestly, “I have just been lonel- never mind.”

She finds herself choking up on the word, tears threatening to spill because she’s tired, confused, and fucking lonely.

Harry’s eyes are unreadable like the usually are, they’re concerned and his squeezing turns almost into a gentle massage of her plush right there.

”I’ll fix it, okay?” Harry sighs as YN tugs on another pair of gloves, “I need you to continue to listen to me, follow my instructions, and I’ll make sure you’re not lonely, okay?”

YN doesn’t believe him for a moment but doesn’t have the energy to argue, “Okay.”

Harry knows that she isn’t buying it, “I mean it. I stick by my fucking word. I’ll fix it if you continue to listen.”

YN nods in agreement, carefully taking the curved needle from the sterilized packaging and threading it through the suture material, “You’ll need to come back here or go to the doctor in about a week and a half to get these remove. They don’t dissolve.”

”Okay,” Harry acknowledges but he’s more subdued, like something about YN complaining about her loneliness had stuck with him.

”Sit back,” YN orders as she’s ready to start work and when she leans over, she not only realizes it’s a shitty angle but her lower back is screaming at her from being on her feet for an unreasonable amount of hours today.

Harry must recognize it, surprisingly perceptive for how cold and disconnected he can be, “C’mere.”

YN should put up a fight.

YN should do a lot of things that she doesn’t.

Harry pulls her in until she’s sitting in his lap, thighs straddling over his closed ones, and she rests her bum on the thick of his quad muscle.

It actually was a much easier angle to do what she needed to do.

Her strangers hands come up to steady her hips, resting in the dip above her hip, and his hands were massive, his fingertips nearly reaching her bellybutton from the way that they were splayed.

”It’s going to hurt. Try not to flinch or anything,” YN mumbles, ignoring the butterflies that were starting to go crazy in her belly.

The roles are reversed when YN grips his chin to keep his head at the angle she needed it as she decided how to go about this.

She can with one hundred percent certainty say that she’s never sat on a patient’s lap while giving them stitches.

Harry doesn’t so much as flinch as she begins, his eyes were studying her face the whole time, hands firm around her waist, and unrelenting in their grip to keep her steady.

The only noise in the room is their breathing, more so YN’s, and a sharper intake from Harry when she has to pierce the needle through his sensitive, bruised skin to pull it shut.

”D-done,” YN replies after she ties the thread of neatly, snipping it with a small pair of scissors before sitting back, her back was still aching.

Harry hadn’t said anything during the whole thing, he doesn’t smile but he isn’t frowning either as he moves to hold her chin, his favorite thing apparently, and his thumb swipes over her bottom lip.

It was oddly intimate.

”Thank you,” Her stranger tells her sincerely, no teasing or harshness.

YN nods, swallowing because she should get off of his lap but she feels planted where she’s at.

Until she can’t help the massive yawn that has her eyes watering, bringing her hand to cover her mouth.

”S’time to get you to sleep,” Harry decides as he stands up and positions her on her feet, “You need to stop workin’ so much. You’re going to die of exhaustion.”

How does he know how much she works?

YN’s too tired to question it further.

”Need t’shower,” YN mumbles back, rubbing at her eye.

”It can wait, you’re ‘bout dead on your feet. Hold on,” Harry disappears down her hallway, she can hear him going into her bathroom like he just has full permission to explore her house.

He comes out a moment later with a damp washcloth, without asking, he begins to wipe at her face, and when the white fabric starts to stain red - she’s alarmed before she realize that it wasn’t her own blood that had dried on her face.

”You can…um, you can shower before you leave if you want,” YN offers as she allows him to wipe her off, moving down her jawline and throat.

She expects him to turn it down.

”I might actually take you up on that. This…this wasn’t part of my plan for the night and I still have things to do. I’ll lock up on the way out?” Her stranger tosses the washcloth on her kitchen counter.

”Yeah, m’going to go to sleep,” YN waves her hand at him, her eyes were starting to close without her permission as she drug her feet towards her bedroom.

”Jesus Christ, I’m fucked.”

YN hears him mutter that under his breath, not meant for her to hear, and she doesn’t know what it means anyways, it was probaly about his plans that didn’t go his way.

After she changes into her pajamas, YN realizes that Harry doesn’t have a shirt on, and she rifles through her drawers until she finds a shirt from an old boyfriend that would fit him.

She folds it, leaves it right in front of the bathroom door, and goes back into her bedroom.

Underneath the covers, she tries to sleep but instead finds herself listening to her stranger.

He must drop a bottle in the shower at some point.

Then the water’s being shut off after awhile.

A bit of shuffling and the door opening.

What she doesn’t expect is when he steps into her doorway, leaning against her doorframe, in the shirt that she had left for him.

”Bye,” He replies simply, no ‘thank you’ or anything.

YN sits up, “No, not ‘bye’. When…when is this going to end? I can’t keep living like this, Harry. I -“

”I said I would fix it, didn’t I? So stop bitching,” Harry snaps, the calmness that had settled between them had disappeared, all the softness that he’d shown just a bit ago had been lost now.

YN frowns at him, “I’m so nice to you. I don’t understand why you treat me so poorly.”

”If you think I’m treating you poorly, you don’t want to know how I treat others,” Harry laughs, the cruelty seeping back into each syllable, “You’re just a sensitive lil’ drama queen.”

”Fuck you,” YN shoots back for the first time because she had been overly nice and accommodating for a man she didn’t know anything about.

The frown lines are back, his scowl set where it normally was.

”Goodnight, my queen,” Harry smirks as the insult rolls off his tongue.

”Get the fuck out,” YN’s voice is quivering but not from fear or upset, from rage.

”My pleasure,” He agrees easily, stepping away from the doorframe and disappearing down the hall.

YN’s too tired to have anymore thoughts after she hears the front door click closed.

What. The. Fuck

++

The next morning, she’s awoken to an obnxious pounding on her front door.

There’s no way that it would be her stranger, right?

He would have let himself in if it was anything like last night.

She had never even questioned where he got the injury from.

When she makes it to the front door, there’s no one in front of her peephole which confuses her, and makes her unlock it to open it up.

There’s a massive cardboard box on her front mat, with small holes poked into the sides, and her name scrawled on the top of it in what looked to be boyish handwriting in marker.

YN hears rustling of all things.

Which makes her kneel down to open the loosely shut box.

When she hears the most feisty mewl of her life.

After opening the flaps, there’s two black kittens inside with a blanket surrounding them.

They were jet black with sleek, shiny coats and bright green eyes- looking up at her expectantly.

Two kittens on her doorstep.

YN is confused but she brings them inside.

When she looks in the box for any explanation, there’s a small note that is in the same handwriting as the scribbles on the cardboard.

[georgeweasleyslostearhq]

WILD CHILD KISSES

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Fem! Summary: Eddie's finally told he'll be graduating, but his spotlight is soon shadowed after a certain event is coming up. Warnings: mentions of drinking, flirting, tears, kissing. A/N: this is also kind of a warning, I am not American/ do not live there, therefore I do not know how your schooling day works, I have searched it up but there is no clear answer that will help me, so I shall continue to set it up the way my school does here in Australia, which is 2 periods, then 20 minute recess, then 1-2 periods, 40 minute lunch, then 1-2 periods.

buckle up, this is a long one. sorry. 7.3k

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Eddie Munson had spent the better part of the last three years sitting in this very chair, staring at the principal’s desk like it was some medieval execution block. He’d been here so many times he had the wood grain of the desk practically memorized. Detentions, lectures, warnings- all of it leading up to the same crushing reality year after year.

But this time? This time was different.

Principal Higgins let out a sigh, rubbing his temple like the news physically pained him to deliver. “Against all odds, Munson, it appears you’ve finally done enough to graduate.”

Eddie blinked. He was sure he’d heard wrong. “What?”

Higgins folded his hands atop his desk. “You passed, Munson. By the skin of your teeth, but you did it. You’ll be getting your diploma with the rest of your class.”

A slow grin spread across Eddie’s face. He slumped forward, pressing a hand to his chest like he’d just been shot. "you're fuckin' with me, right?"

Higgins cut him off with a dry look. “Language, Mister Munson, and no, it mostly came down to us wanting you out, but you passed, so"

Eddie placed a hand over his chest, right where his heart was and faked a tear, wiping it away with his free hand

"I'm flattered, Higgs, really-" he started before the older man huffed, rolling his eyes at the nickname the teen gave him.

"Yes, yes, now go to recess, boy"

Eddie didn’t need to be told twice.

He shot up from his chair so fast it nearly toppled over, practically sprinting out the door.

The lady at the front desk of the office looked up at the sound of the door slamming but she visibly relaxed when she saw Eddie's wide smile across his face as he almost skipped through the office.

"Farewell, Linda, you lovely old bat!"

The older woman gasped in offense as Eddie rushed past her, practically spinning her in her chair as he runs down the hall to the cafeteria.

He didn’t care that his boots squeaked against the linoleum, that a couple of freshmen nearly flattened themselves against the lockers to avoid being bulldozed. He had only one thought in his mind:

Tell Hellfire.

By the time he burst into the cafeteria, he was breathless, heart pounding like he’d just run a marathon. Quickly spotting his lost sheep at the Hellfire table, he smiled. The guys were mid-conversation, probably about their next campaign, when Eddie slammed his hands down on the table.

“Guess who's graduating"

For a second, silence.

Then, absolute chaos.

Dustin practically fell out of his chair, Jeff and Gareth erupted into cheers, and Mike started laughing like it was the greatest plot twist in history. Gareth, always the most dramatic, actually leaped onto his seat and threw his hands in the air. “WHAT? NO WAY!”

“I know!” Eddie cackled, throwing his arms up, “I thought I was doomed to haunt this hellhole forever, but lo and behold, miracles do exist!”

The guys pounded on the table, throwing their arms around him, shaking him with excitement. It was loud, ridiculous, everything Eddie could’ve hoped for.

And then, you.

You were smiling at him from across the table, bright-eyed, genuine. Like you were actually proud of him. Not just amused, not just surprised- but really, truly happy.

And without thinking, Eddie turned and hugged you.

It wasn’t like the one-armed, casual side-hugs he’d given other people. No, this was different. He wrapped his arms around you fully, pulling you against his chest, his heart still hammering in exhilaration. You smelled like something sweet- maybe it as your shampoo, maybe something you put on that morning. Either way, it was dizzying.

You were taken back at the hug, not sure where all this came from seen as though everything had been awkward between you today until now.

Your mind was tracing back to the almost-kiss yesterday, it made you nervous and weak in the knees every time you thought about it.

And believe me, you tried so hard to not think about it.

Arms wrapping slowly around his torso, you hugged him back.

For a second, it was just nice. Warm. Familiar in a way that made no sense.

But then it must have hit him. The tension.

His breath hitched, and suddenly, it wasn’t just excitement burning under his skin- it was something else. Something more dangerous.

Reality crashed down, and his arms stiffened. He pulled back, just slightly, just enough to put space between you both- but it was too late. The moment had already stretched just a second too long, crossed into something else.

You blinked up at him, still caught in that moment of pure joy, but it was already shifting. Already becoming something awkward.

Eddie swallowed hard, suddenly unsure of where to put his hands, what to do with himself. His voice came out rough, unsteady. “Uh… sorry.”

And then, before he could look at you again, before he could see whatever expression you were making, he turned away, rubbing the back of his neck like it never happened.

The Hellfire guys were still talking, still cheering, still high on the energy of the moment. None of them had noticed the weird shift between Eddie and you. But you noticed. He knew you did.

You were still standing there, arms now folded over your chest, watching him like you were trying to figure out what the hell had just happened.

Eddie didn’t want to figure it out. Not right now.

So, he did what he did best.

He played it off.

“So,” he said, clearing his throat, forcing a cocky smirk. “Who’s throwing me a graduation party?”

Dustin immediately started rambling about how they had to do something legendary, and just like that, the conversation shifted. The guys took the bait, launching into plans, joking about how Eddie had to go out with a bang.

But across the table, you were still watching him, your gaze unreadable.

And Eddie? He felt like his stomach was in knots.

Because for the first time, he wasn’t just trying to ignore the tension.

He was afraid of what it might mean. 

It made you wonder if he really meant what he said- what he admitted to, last night.

Did he like you? did he really like you?

The bell rang, cutting through the chaos of the cafeteria. Eddie glanced around, the guys still animatedly discussing plans for his "legendary" graduation party, but the noise felt distant now. He glanced back at you, still standing there, arms crossed over your chest, looking like you didn’t know whether to stay or go.

"Guess we better get to class," Eddie muttered, his words a little too casual, though his heart was pounding in his chest. He tried to act like nothing had shifted, but he could feel it. You felt it too. Didn’t you?

You nodded, but the hesitation in your step matched his, like neither of you was quite ready for what came next. You pushed your chair back, and Eddie mirrored your movements, both of you standing awkwardly, not sure if you should say anything else.

The silence stretched between you as you both started walking toward the door. Eddie’s boots clicked on the linoleum, his pace a little faster than normal. He didn’t want to rush, but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t keep the anxious energy from bubbling up inside him. Every now and then, he’d glance at you- just a quick look, but long enough to see the way you quickly turned your gaze elsewhere.

And then, he’d steal another glance, the second one always a little longer, like he was trying to figure out if you felt the same tightness in your chest, the same unease that was gnawing at him.

"So… you're finally graduating, huh?" You finally said, your voice a little quieter than usual, like you were trying to convince yourself it wasn’t all just some dream.

“Yeah…” Eddie said with a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck, his fingers trembling slightly. “I still don’t know if I believe it, honestly. It’s like someone’s pulling a prank on me, but… here we are.”

He was trying to make light of it, but the truth was, his chest was full of nerves. What if this- what if everything- was just him imagining it all? His mind kept cycling back to the moment you hugged him. That warmth, that connection, that feeling of having you pressed against him—it wasn’t like anything else.

But what did it mean? Was it just excitement, or was it something more? Was it possible that you felt the same way?

Eddie couldn’t keep himself from glancing over at you again, and this time, when his eyes met yours, his breath caught. For just a fraction of a second, everything in him wanted to step closer, to close the gap, but he held back. He couldn’t push it. He wasn’t even sure what ‘it’ was yet.

You weren’t looking at him anymore. Instead, your eyes were fixed straight ahead, but Eddie could see the subtle way your lips pressed together, like you were thinking about something, something important. He felt a pang in his chest, the realization that you might not be as sure about all of this as he was.

Your voice broke through his thoughts again. “I’m glad you are, though, took you long enough”

Eddie blinked, surprised. The way you said it, your tone so genuine, it made his heartbeat even faster. It felt like you were saying more than just what you meant, like there was something else there, something he had to pull out of you, but he didn’t know how.

He offered a small, sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his neck again. “Yeah… I’m glad too.”

There it was. That moment when everything felt like it was about to tip over the edge. Eddie didn’t know what to do with the way his pulse was racing, the way his thoughts kept spiraling back to you, to what had happened at the table, to everything that might happen next. What was he supposed to say? What if you didn’t feel the same way?

The hallway felt strangely smaller now, like the space between you both had been shrinking with every step, and Eddie had no idea how to fix it.

You were still walking beside him, your steps so quiet compared to his, but every time he glanced over, your eyes seemed to flick back to him before you quickly turned away. He could tell you were nervous, just as unsure as he was. And that made it worse, because if you were thinking the same things he was, then what?

He couldn’t just keep pretending like it wasn’t happening. He couldn’t keep pretending that every time you looked at him, his heart didn’t race.

The classroom door loomed ahead, and you both hesitated before stepping through, but Eddie didn’t want to stop walking. He didn’t want the moment to end. He didn’t want to face the reality that he might be the only one who felt this strange, burning thing between you two.

He followed you into the classroom, taking his seat beside you. There was still too much space between you both. It wasn’t enough to feel close, but it was too much to ignore. Every glance, every shift in position made his stomach twist in a way that was both exhilarating and terrifying.

And every time his eyes met yours, all he could think was: Does she know? Does she feel it too? Or am I just reading too much into this?

You met his gaze once more, and for a split second, everything seemed to pause- his heart in his throat, your eyes wide with something unreadable. And then the moment passed, just like that, leaving Eddie both relieved and disappointed all at once.

He smiled awkwardly, looking away, trying to focus on anything but how badly he wanted to say something, anything, that could break the silence that was threatening to crush him.

But for now, neither of you spoke. And Eddie wondered if maybe he was the only one who was brave enough to admit it.

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Third period zoomed past, you and Eddie making a few comments on the work here and there, but it was mostly laid back as the end of school was only a week away, teachers slacking off and letting the kids do whatever.

The hallway erupted with noise as students spilled into the corridors. You and Eddie stepped out together, moving in the same direction toward the cafeteria. Neither of you spoke at first. You had walked with Eddie plenty of times before, but today, it felt different- charged with something unspoken.

The walls were lined with prom posters, bright colors and glitter catching the fluorescent light as you passed. PROM: A NIGHT TO REMEMBER! in bold letters, surrounded by stars and hearts.

You frowned at first, knowing that all these decorations were not up an hour when you entered this class. So, there had to be a handful of people to decorate every hall and corridor in an hour.

Prom, yes, everyone was already talking about, for at least 2 months now, but these decorations make everyone's eyes light up and smile-

But your stomach twisted. You could feel Eddie glance at you, but by the time you turned to meet his eyes, he was already looking away.

He was acting weird. But so were you.

Your fingers tightened around the strap of your bag. Would he ask you? He had confessed yesterday, hadn’t he? It wasn’t a dream, wasn’t some drunken mistake. He liked you. So why hadn’t he said anything about prom?

You stole another glance at him, catching the way he ran a hand through his curls, looking everywhere but at you. The usual easy-going, over-the-top Eddie Munson was nowhere to be found. Instead, the boy walking next to you was fidgety, lost in thought.

And truthfully? So were you.

Maybe he doesn’t like me after all.

The idea had been creeping into your mind all morning. If he really wanted to go with you, wouldn’t he have asked by now? Maybe the almost-kiss yesterday didn’t mean anything to him. Maybe he regretted telling you how he felt. Maybe he just said it because he thought you needed to hear it.

You felt something heavy settle in your chest.

Eddie, meanwhile, was caught in his own storm of thoughts. He wanted to ask you. Hell, he’d spent all morning thinking about it, trying to work up the nerve. But the words never made it past his lips.

Because deep down, he knew the truth.

She wouldn’t want to go with me.

You were you, and he was him. The town freak. The guy everyone whispered about in the halls, the one teachers sighed over, the one the jocks mocked for sport. What would it look like if you showed up at prom with him? What would people say about you?

Besides, if you did like him- if you really liked him- you would’ve said something by now. Right? You would have said so yesterday, when he told you. You wouldn’t just sit there, waiting. You would’ve told him.

Which meant you didn’t.

And that was that.

So he stayed quiet, shoving his hands deep into his pockets as the two of you pushed through the cafeteria doors.

The Hellfire table was already buzzing with conversation. The usual chaos of lunch was in full swing- trays clattering, voices overlapping- but today, there was one subject dominating the table: prom.

"Okay, but hear me out," Dustin was saying, practically bouncing in his seat. "I think prom could actually be cool if they had, like, a real band instead of some cheesy DJ."

"You can’t even go, Henderson," Gareth pointed out, rolling his eyes. "You’re a freshman. None of us are seniors except Eddie and Jeff"

That was when Dustin’s eyes landed on the two of you. A slow, knowing grin stretched across his face. "Speaking of which-" he turned to you, practically vibrating with excitement. "Did Eddie ask you to prom?"

The words hit you like a slap.

Your heart leaped into your throat, cheeks flushing with heat. It was such a sudden question, so blunt, that for half a second, you couldn’t even react. Your eyes darted to Eddie on instinct, searching for something- some sign of an answer, some confirmation that, yes, of course he was going to ask you-

But Eddie wasn’t looking at you.

He was staring at Dustin like the kid had just lit a stick of dynamite and tossed it onto the table. His face drained of color, his mouth opening and closing uselessly.

"No!" he blurted, voice cracking slightly. "No, I-uh-no, I didn’t-"

He was stammering.

The breath you didn’t realize you were holding slipped out in a quiet exhale, and something cold settled in your stomach.

Oh.

The disappointment hit you harder than expected, like a weight pressing down on your chest.

Dustin, completely oblivious, laughed. "Dude, why not? You like her, right?"

You froze.

Eddie froze.

The table went quiet.

Eddie let out a strangled laugh, running a hand down his face. "Henderson-shut up." His voice was strained, panicked.

Dustin blinked, confused for half a second before realization dawned on his face. "Oh." His eyes widened slightly. "Wait, she doesn’t know?"

You felt your breath hitch.

Oh, you know, you just didn't know anyone else- the whole of Hellfire- knew.

Eddie squeezed his eyes shut like he wanted the earth to swallow him whole. "Jesus Christ," he muttered under his breath before turning to you, finally meeting your gaze.

For a second, neither of you spoke.

Your heart was hammering in your chest. His confession from yesterday flashed in your mind. You knew he liked you. He had told you. So why was he acting like this? Why was he shutting it down like it wasn’t even an option?

The way he was looking at you- like he knew he just messed up, like he knew you were hurt but didn’t know how to fix it- made your stomach twist even more.

You swallowed hard, forcing a tight-lipped smile as you pushed your chair back. "I’m gonna grab some lunch."

Your voice was quieter than you wanted it to be.

You didn’t wait for a response. You just stood up and walked away.

You heard Eddie shift beside you, like he was about to say something, but he didn’t.

Because what could he say?

The noise of the cafeteria faded into background static as you moved toward the lunch line, your mind racing.

You had thought- hoped- maybe he would ask. Maybe last night meant something. Maybe he meant it when he said he liked you.

But now? Now you weren’t sure anymore.

And Eddie- Eddie just sat there, staring after you, hands clenched into fists beneath the table.

He wanted to go with you. God, he wanted to.

But he had a feeling he just ruined everything.

And the worst part?

He had no idea how to fix it.

By the time you returned to the Hellfire table, tray in hand, the conversation had fizzled out. The guys had sensed the shift in energy- how the excitement over prom had suddenly turned into something way more awkward-

And one by one, they had made their exits. Even Dustin, who normally lacked any kind of social awareness, had mumbled something about needing to grab a book from his locker before practically running off.

So now, it was just you and Eddie.

Alone.

He was still sitting in the same spot, hunched forward with his arms resting on the table, fingers tapping restlessly against the wood. You sat down across from him, trying to ignore the way your heart twisted at the sight of him- how his usual confidence had been drained from his posture, how his brows were slightly furrowed like he was deep in thought.

For a minute, neither of you spoke.

You focused on your tray, picking at your food without really eating. You could feel Eddie watching you, could practically hear the wheels turning in his head as he struggled for the right words.

Finally, he cleared his throat.

"Uh- so- " He ran a hand through his curls, letting out a sharp breath. "That was… a whole thing, huh?"

You didn’t look up. "Yep."

Eddie winced at your clipped tone. He hesitated, then leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice. "Look, Dustin’s just- he’s an idiot, alright? He doesn’t know when to shut up."

You shrugged, still not meeting his eyes. "I don’t care."

Eddie blinked, caught off guard by how casual you sounded. He had expected you to be mad, or embarrassed, or something- but not this. Not this calm, unaffected brush-off.

"You don’t care?" He repeated slowly, testing the words like they didn’t make sense.

"Yeah," you said simply, finally looking up. "I mean, it’s not like I wanted to go with you anyway."

That was a lie.

But the words came out so easily. So effortlessly. Like they were true.

Eddie barely had time to mask his reaction.

It was quick- just a flicker of something in his expression, something unguarded and sharp, like your words had landed right where it hurt.

He covered it up almost instantly, forcing a chuckle as he leaned back in his seat. "Right," he said, nodding. "Of course. Why would you, right?"

You could tell he was trying to play it off, trying to act like it didn’t matter.

But you knew Eddie well enough to know when something did matter.

And this?

This did.

But you didn’t take it back.

You just smiled, small and polite, before returning your attention to your tray.

Eddie watched you for a moment longer, his fingers still tapping anxiously against the table.

Then, with a barely audible sigh, he slumped back against his chair, staring up at the ceiling like he had just royally screwed up.

Because maybe, just maybe, he had.

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The parking lot was loud with the usual after-school chaos- cars starting up, doors slamming, groups of students lingering to chat before heading home.

Eddie stood by his van, hands shoved deep in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels. His stomach was a mess of nerves, though he’d never admit it. He had been waiting—hoping—you’d show up.

And then, finally, you did.

You were walking towards the buses, books hugged to your chest, brows slightly furrowed like your mind was somewhere else entirely.

He hesitated for half a second, then pushed off the side of his van, striding over to you.

“Hey,” he called, trying to sound casual, like he hadn’t been waiting for you.

You glanced up, a little surprised. “Hey.”

Eddie rubbed the back of his neck.

“So, uh, the guys are heading to my place. Y’know, to celebrate my miraculous academic achievement.” He smirked, tilting his head. “Figured I’d give you a ride.”

Your grip on your books tightened. “Oh- I, um- I actually have something to do.”

Eddie frowned. “What?”

You shifted your weight, glancing toward your car like you were in a hurry. “Yeah, I just- I can’t make it. Sorry.”

Eddie blinked, caught off guard. He had been so sure you’d come.

He forced a chuckle. “C’mon, what could possibly be more important than celebrating me finally getting out of that godforsaken school?”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “I just-”

“Please?” Eddie’s voice softened, and something about it made you freeze.

He wasn’t just asking. He was really asking.

Like he needed you there.

You looked up at him, at the hopeful, almost nervous glint in his eyes.

And just like that, your excuse- your whole plan to put some distance between you two- crumbled.

You sighed. “Fine.”

Eddie’s face lit up. “Really?”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, Munson. You win.”

Eddie grinned, stepping back and gesturing toward the van with a dramatic bow. “Then hop in, sweetheart.”

And God help you.

Your stomach flipped, your breath hitched, and for a second, the world tilted just slightly.

That stupid nickname.

He said it like it was nothing, like it didn’t curl around you, warm and teasing, making your heart stutter in your chest.

Like it didn’t make you feel dizzy in the worst- and best- way.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to play it off, to act like that one word didn’t shake you to your core.

And despite everything- the tension, the confusion, the ache in your chest from earlier- you found yourself smiling as you followed him.

Because, really, how could you ever say no to Eddie Munson?

The guy that's been driving you crazy as of late, the guy you can't get out of your head. It was nothing but unfair, really.

Eventually, the van rattled to a stop in front of the trailer, the familiar sight of Forest Hills mobile homes stretching out under the dimming afternoon sky. The drive had been… mostly quiet, filled with a comfortable kind of tension that neither of you had tried to break. The radio had been the only real sound between you, some old rock ballad playing low through the speakers, but even then, neither of you had been really listening.

Eddie pulled the keys from the ignition, glancing at you before shoving the door open.

You followed him up the steps, the screen door creaking as he pushed it open. The moment you stepped inside, you were hit with the familiar scent of coffee and the faintest trace of cigarette smoke.

And there he was, sprawled out on the couch with a cup of coffee in one hand, his other resting on his stomach. He barely glanced up from the newspaper at first.

Then he saw you.

And the absolute shit-eating grin that took over his face was so immediate, so smug, you almost took a step back.

“Well, well,” Wayne drawled, folding the paper and setting it aside. His eyes flicked between you and Eddie, like he already knew something neither of you were saying. “Second day in a row, huh? Should I be expectin’ you tomorrow too?”

Your face burned instantly.

“Oh- uh-” You opened your mouth, but no words came out.

Eddie groaned, rubbing his face with both hands. “Jesus Christ, Wayne.”

Wayne smirked, sipping his coffee like he wasn’t watching you both squirm. “I’m just sayin’- you never bring anyone over, and now suddenly I got a guest two days in a row? Feels like I should be puttin’ out another dinner plate.”

Eddie huffed. “She’s not- ” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “Forget it. Can we not make this weird?”

Wayne just chuckled, but the teasing gleam in his eyes never faded.

Eddie sighed and flopped into the recliner, rubbing a hand over his face. “Look, I brought her here so we can celebrate, old man.”

Wayne raised a brow. “Celebrate?”

Eddie leaned forward, his grin almost boyish. “I’m graduating.”

For a second, Wayne didn’t react. Just blinked.

Then, slowly, his expression shifted, the teasing melting away into something softer.

“Say that again?”

Eddie’s grin widened. “I’m graduating, Wayne. Like, officially. No more repeating senior year, no more Higgins breathing down my neck. I’m done.”

Wayne set his coffee down, staring at Eddie like he had just grown a second head. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

And then, before Eddie could react, Wayne was up- clapping him on the shoulder, gripping the back of his neck in one of those rough, affectionate gestures only Wayne Munson could pull off.

“Goddamn, Ed,” he muttered, his voice gruff. “You really did it.”

Eddie laughed, leaning into the touch like he was twelve again and just scored a home run at some little league game. “Told ya I would.”

Wayne huffed. “You told me that two years ago, and I stopped believin’ ya after the second time.” But his voice was warm, proud.

Your heart clenched a little, watching the moment unfold.

Eddie was trying to play it cool, but you could see it—the way his shoulders relaxed, the way he ducked his head slightly, like that small bit of approval from Wayne meant the world to him.

Which, knowing Eddie, it probably did.

Wayne turned to you suddenly, pointing a finger. “And you- you keepin’ him outta trouble, or are you the one gettin’ him into it?”

Eddie cackled. “Oh, definitely the second one.”

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling.

Wayne smirked. “That’s what I thought.”

And just like that, he clapped Eddie on the back one last time before heading for the kitchen. “I got a couple beers in the fridge. You want one?”

Eddie grinned. “Hell yes, I—”

Wayne shot him a look before looking at you, to which you nodded slowly.

Wayne snorted but grabbed a couple of drinks anyway, muttering something about damn kids under his breath.

You just shook your head, sitting down on the couch while Eddie kicked his boots off and sprawled out beside you.

And for the first time all day, it felt like maybe- just maybe- things didn’t have to be so complicated.

Wayne handed each of you a beer, the cold condensation dripping onto your fingers. He patted Eddie on the back, a proud smile creasing his weathered face.

"Well, I gotta get ready for work in about an hour, so we can celebrate tomorrow, ay?" He glanced over at you, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "And I assume you'll be there too?"

You felt your cheeks flush, and you quickly looked down at your feet, suddenly finding your worn-out shoes incredibly fascinating.

"Wayne—" Eddie began, his voice tinged with embarrassment.

But his uncle cut him off with a chuckle. "—so that's a yes?"

You couldn't help but feel the flutter in your chest at the idea of being invited to another hangout, but it left you a little nervous, too.

Eddie sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "We'll see, Wayne. Don't scare her off before then."

Wayne laughed, clearly enjoying the moment. "Alright, alright. I'll leave you kids to it."

As he walked away, you dared to glance at Eddie. He met your eyes, a small smile tugging at his lips. The air between you both felt thick with the unspoken.

"Sorry about him," Eddie muttered, his tone more sheepish than usual.

You shook your head, offering him a soft smile. "It’s alright. He’s... nice."

Eddie returned your smile, and for a brief moment, the world outside the trailer seemed to blur. There was something warm in the way he looked at you, like you mattered to him. But before it could linger too long, he cleared his throat.

"Wanna go to my room?"

You nodded. "Sure."

Eddie led the way, his boots echoing in the narrow hallway. His room came into view, posters of bands covering the walls, and an old guitar standing proudly in the corner. You stepped inside, your eyes scanning the space. It was exactly how you'd imagined-

Chaotic and full of character.

You stopped just inside the door as Eddie turned to face you, but before either of you could speak, Wayne's voice cut through the air from the kitchen.

"Better keep that door open!"

You and Eddie exchanged confused glances.

"Why?" Eddie asked, his tone laced with annoyance.

Wayne leaned against the doorway, a shit-eating grin on his face. "Don’t pretend what I walked in on you two doing yesterday didn’t happen. I don’t wanna be a grandpa just yet, boy."

Your heart jumped in your chest, your face burning with embarrassment. "We didn’t-"

Eddie’s face turned a deeper shade of red, and he cut you off. "Jesus, Wayne! Nothing happened!"

Wayne laughed, enjoying the discomfort he’d caused. "Just messing with ya. But seriously, door stays open."

Eddie rolled his eyes and led you into his room, leaving the door ajar as Wayne insisted. As soon as you were inside, Eddie dropped his backpack onto the floor with a heavy sigh.

“Sorry about that," Eddie muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "Still think he's nice?"

You laughed, trying to shake off the awkwardness. "Yeah, He's alright"

Eddie collapsed onto his bed, stretching out with a groan as he kicked off his Reeboks. You hesitated for a second, standing in the middle of his room.

The silence between you was comfortable at first, but soon, you felt it shift. The questions you both had about each other lingered in the air.

Eddie finally broke the quiet, his voice low and thoughtful. "so...about yesterday."

Your brow furrowed in confusion as you turned to look at him, a little nervous. "What do you mean?"

Eddie rolled over onto his side, propping himself up with one arm. His eyes flicked to you, and his gaze softened. “I mean... I’ve never really been good at this whole ‘being honest’ thing. But with you? I don’t know, it’s different. I keep thinking about it—about what happened between us, what it means. And it’s weird, but in a good way."

Your heart beat faster, the uncertainty clouding your thoughts. Could he really be saying what you thought he was saying?

Eddie laughed softly, rubbing his face in frustration. "I’m not good at this. But I don’t want you to think I’m just..." He stopped himself, looking over your frame from where you stood

"do you wanna sit?" he patted the spot on his bed beside him, shuffling over.

You looked around before slowly stepping to his bed, shuffling to the wall beside him, when you look up to come face to face, you shuffle away, not realising how close you became.

Clearing your throat, you mumble an apology, but he only stares at you, his eyes soft and warm as he smiles, his dimples on display as he fiddles with his rings.

Your gaze followed down to beside him, where a fluffy brown bear sat lopsided on his pillow.

You smiled and leaned over him.

His breath hitched when he followed over every curve of your body the way your ass stuck in the air and the way your shirt revealed cleavage so dangerous that he had to close his eyes, a cold sweat breaking out as you leaned away to sit back down

"Is this Ozzy?" you beamed brightly when Eddie opened his eyes.

He frowned for a second "how do you know that?"

Eddie never tells anything that personal to anyone- especially you, why would he tell you he still sleeps with a stuffed teddy bear and has a name for him?

With a raised eyebrow you laughed softly "on our da- at the fair... I told you I had a few teddys and you told me you had one"

You played with the worn-out bear in your hands and Eddie felt his heart explode in his chest. He remembers it, and he curses himself for forgetting

"right, yeah" he nodded slowly

"S'pretty worn down" you mumbled, examining the bear

The teddy bear looks like it's been loved for years, its once soft fur is now matted and thin in some places, with patches of faded color. The edges of its ears are frayed, the stitching barely holding on in places where it’s been hugged too tightly over the years.

The eyes are scratched, losing some of its glossy shine. The bear’s nose, once a neat little button, has worn down into a faded stitch, barely visible. Its limbs, though still stuffed, are soft and floppy, having lost the firm structure they once had. the bow around its neck stained and ripped. There’s a small tear on its side, the fabric worn thin, but it’s been lovingly stitched back together- a sign of years of comfort, care, and maybe a few bumps along the way.

Despite the wear, it still carries that comforting, familiar scent of childhood- a mix of dust, warmth, and a little bit of home.

Eddie chuckled lowly "yeah...well, s'about fifteen years old so..."

"Mm. Ozzy hasn't been making music for that long, though" you pointed out

"Yeahhh. I only named him when I was...thirteen?" he smiled, looking and loving the way you handled him with care "don't know... Mum tried to think of names but...none of them really felt like him..."

You looked over at him, finding his gaze stuck on the teddy, eyes hung low, rested.

"So, your mum gave him to you?" You spoke, handing it to him.

He smiled, nodding, letting the bear sit in his lap as he brought his knees up.

"yeah...she saved up for months to afford him...she tried to make that birthday so special...I remember dad getting mad when I opened it, he didn't want her spending so much money of a stupid gift for 'girls'" he laughed humourlessly.

"but it was one of the best gifts I've gotten ever...mum always treated us like brothers because that's what I wanted her to do...dad thought it was stupid though; he hid him for about 2 months before mum found him and gave him back..."

When the first tear fell you rushed to brush it away gently. He shook his head, putting the bear beside him as he cleared his throat.

With a sip of his beer, he sighed, leaning his head on the wall as he looked forward.

The room was silent for a few moments. You take the time to look around the room, really look.

The Corroded Coffin banner above your head and the pictures that look like they have been ripped out of a magazine scattered on the walls. Clothes piled in the corner of the room, random trinkets all over the floor, it was so Eddie.

He sat up with a groan, going to his CD collection in his desk, right below his guitar that's hung up against his mirror "music?"

With a quick nod, you looked at the options he handed you. finding a bunch of covers that look straight out of a horror film, but your eyes wandered to the orange and yellow CD, one that looks familiar and frowned

"I know Metal freaks you out" he chuckled lightly "but it's the only music I have"

You remember, the music store where you had been caught looking at that exact album.

He saw your gaze on W.A.S.P the last command and smiled "still fascinated by it?"

Before you could respond, he placed the disc in the player and the blasting of music came on.

The first notes hit, and your chest tightened instantly. It was loud- the kind of loud that filled every inch of space, that crawled under your skin and took over your heartbeat.

The guitar riff tore through the air, sharp and reckless, and when the drums kicked in, you swore you felt them in your ribs. The sheer force of it had you frozen, your hands gripping the edge of Eddie’s bed as if the sound alone might knock you back.

Then the voice came in.

"I ride, I ride the winds that bring the rain…"

Your breath caught, pulse stuttering. The way he sang- gritty, hungry, like every word was bitten off with sharp teeth. You swallowed hard, your heart hammering against your ribs as you listened.

Eddie was watching you.

You felt it before you even turned your head. He was leaning back, one arm draped over his knee, the other lazily tapping a rhythm against his thigh. His rings caught the dim light of the room, glinting as his fingers moved.

But his eyes?

His eyes were on you.

"A creature of love and I can’t be tamed…"

Heat crept up your neck, a flood of goosebumps creeping their way onto your skin.

You weren’t sure if it was the song or the way Eddie looked at you, but something in your stomach flipped, twisting tighter with every second.

The chorus hit, bursting through the speakers like a wildfire.

"I’m a wild child, come and love me…"

Your hands clenched into fists.

It was so blatant, so bold, like the song wasn’t even trying to hide what it was about. It wasn’t sweet, wasn’t careful- it was raw, unashamed, hungry.

And Eddie was still watching you.

His gaze flickered, his lips twitching into something almost knowing. Like he could see the way your fingers curled in your lap, like he knew exactly what kind of effect the music was having on you.

You tore your eyes away, staring at the stereo instead.

"I need you to touch me… ‘Cause I want what you do to me…"

You exhaled shakily.

It wasn’t just the lyrics. It was the way the guitars screamed, the way the drums crashed like a thunderstorm, the way every single note was laced with something untamed and electric. It sent shivers down your spine.

And the worst part?

You liked it.

Eddie leaned in slightly, voice barely loud enough to hear over the music.

"Not so bad, huh?"

You swallowed, your throat dry.

He was close- closer than before. You could feel the warmth of him, the smell of cigarettes and cheap cologne and something else uniquely Eddie.

Your heart pounded.

You turned your head slowly, meeting his gaze again. He was grinning now, lazy and pleased, like he could feel your nervous energy crackling in the air between you.

You had no idea if he was thinking about the song’s lyrics. If he was thinking about how they fit.

But you were.

As the song swelled, the raw, electric energy filled the small room, pressing in on you from all sides. The words pulsed in your veins, the heavy beat vibrating through your bones.

"I’m a wild child, come and love me… I want you…"

Eddie was still watching you.

Your heart was racing. Not just from the music. Not just from the way it shook the walls and the floor beneath you. But from him. From the way he was looking at you- eyes half-lidded, like he was memorizing every part of this moment.

You could barely breathe.

And then, as the chorus hit again, as the song begged and burned, you turned your head just as he did.

Your noses brushed.

For a split second, neither of you moved. Just hovered there, inches apart, the music crashing around you, your breaths uneven.

Then Eddie whispered, "Sweetheart..."

You didn’t think. You just moved.

Your lips met his- tentative, hesitant- But as soon as you felt the warmth of his mouth, the way he sucked in a sharp breath, you knew there was no stopping it.

Eddie made a noise in the back of his throat- something between a groan and a sigh, relief and desperation tangled together. His hand lifted, fingers tangling in the back of your hair as he pulled you closer, deepening it.

The song roared around you.

"A naked heat machine, I want your love!"

Your stomach flipped as his lips moved against yours, slow but sure, like he’d been waiting for this. And God, maybe you had too. Maybe that’s why it felt so dizzying, so right.

You kissed each other like you were both afraid it wasn't real.

When you finally broke apart, you opened your eyes.

And you found that you weren't kissing him.

Instead, you were in his van, music blaring in your ears as he drove you to his trailer, talking about his graduation party, and you? you were imagining kissing him for the 100th time this evening.

God, you're so hooked screwed.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Ha. you really thought? sorry.

Taglist:

Taglist:

@exploding-bonbon  @xlostitx  @pupwrites  @carolineesnell  @foreveranexpatsposts  @itsmadamehydra  @thedoubleexposurephotography  @g3n3zshack  @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable  @emxxblog  @nubedeoctubreval  @bimboshaggy  @sheneedsrocknroll92  @callmytherapistplease-blog  @ifeelbadbutimhot  @littlemissholy  @sammybrrr  @alastorssimp @e-c-a-r-l-a-t-e

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

[novashelby]

Forgive Me-Tommy Shelby Smut

Pairing: TommyxReader(third person)

Word count: 2k-ish

Summary: Tommy Shelby is attracted to his attorney's daughter, and decides to corrupt her little nun brain at work.

Prompt: "What makes you think I am going to fuck you?"

Warning: Degrading language, non-con, Dubcon, oral(m), religious banter.

@darlingsfandom

“Y’know,” Tommy said, weaving himself through the wooden pews. It was a rare occasion that he was in church as he and God didn’t talk very much. If not, at all. You see, they weren’t on the best of terms. But he could admit that. He had no shame in his religious affiliations, or lack of. But her? Looking at her kneeling in the novice robes with her hands folded was laughable, at best. Tommy pointed his finger at her, wiggling it. “This, honestly…Love, why?”

She’d been trying hard to focus on her prayer for the last thirty minutes, knelt down, hands folded. Stiffening, she rolled her eyes up and let out a long sigh of frustration. Perhaps she was a little wild in her teen years, but what did he know of any of it? He was just her father’s client. Her father was an attorney, a big wig one in London. However, she hardly ever associated with him. And the only times she ever spoke with Mr. Thomas Shelby was when she was required to go to dinner parties and he just so happened to be there. “Mr. Shelby,” she greeted, though he’d been circling the pews for quite some time.

Finally he made it to hers, sliding in and kneeling right next to her. When his elbow caressed her arm, she flinched away, giving him a wild look. Amused, he asked, “oh, sorry, is that a sin these days? I mean, you are a messenger of God…know all his updated terms of services, eh?”

Getting up, she looked down at him.  “Instead of saundering within the pews, perhaps you should head to confession, Mr. Shelby. I can direct you, if you’d like? Or….” She leaned in, a snarky grin playing on her face. “I can give you the fast pass to hell, surely the Devil can’t wait to meet his biggest fan from Birmingham, eh?” It was the mockery for him. The little teasing infliction of her voice. Eh. He reached up to grip her cheeks, but she turned away before he could. Tommy got up and followed her, and when she heard the click of his lighter, she stopped. “There is no smoking allowed in the church, Thomas. Put it out.”

The cigarette rested between his fingers. “Do the rules still apply to nonbelievers?”

“If you are such a nonbeliever,” she said, turning on her heels. “Then you’d best find better company elsewhere.” Instead of leaving, he sat on the priest’s velvet chair on the altar. He leaned back, crossing his legs as if it was his lounge chair. Luckily for her, she was the only one in the church besides a few custodians. 

“What would your father say,” he said, pointing at her with a cigarette, giving her a knowing look. “Being so disrespectful to his client. To an older person. To a man.”

“He’d say nothing,” she quipped, gathering her bag with her notes and bible. Some of her hair had been peeking through her white veil. Tommy pushed off the chair and walked over, grabbing her arm. Flinching, she pushed him off, a nasty glare on her face. “Don’t touch me-”

“C’mere,” he said, regaining his grip and pulling her in. “You’re being immodest,” he said, a teasing glint in his eyes as he poked the loose strands back under the veil. People were weak under him. Once they were trapped by his little games, it was hard to push away. And she was no different, so small under him. Like the good girl she was meant to be, she stayed in place. “You see,” he started, words muffled slightly from the smoke perched between his lips. “I don’t think this is all you. I think…I think you are here just to be a little fuckin’ brat-”

“Mr. Shelby,” she interjected. “If you don’t mind, I have to get to study.”

When she tried to move from him, he gripped tighter. “I do mind, actually.” Yes, it was true, she had a wild era once in her teens. But it stopped at dancing and drinking. Never had she ever broken the seal. The church was safe. It was to keep her safe, and never had she considered the scenario where a man had her trapped. Mr. Shelby of all men. The small of her back pressed against the side of a wooden pew, digging into her body. The edge felt sharp, even through her thick robes. “I quite like your company. I find it…redeeming? As if my soul is just cleansing being in your presence.”

“You’re mocking me,” she said in a mere whisper, their eyes connecting.

“No,” he said, sarcastically while his knee pressed between her legs. “It’s true. Forgive me, I’m just thinking….” He paused, words trailing off. “Just how much you can save me.”

“I’ll pray for you,” she said, pushing at his chest, but he was just too strong for her.

Grinning, he leaned in, forehead resting against hers. “And how do you pray? On your knees? Hmmm…that’s a good idea. You’ll pray for me, right here. On your knees. Go on, be a good little girl and get on your knees.” He stepped back and waited. His face said it all…don’t try to move. Without breaking eye contact, she slid to her knees. A nun, sure, but she knew enough about life to understand what he wanted. “What do you think you should do?” he asked, all emotion leaving his voice. Her hands reached up to his trousers, closing her eyes. To his amusement, her fingers fumbled with the belt loop, struggling. “I guess those wild years did you no good. Or are you just out of practice? C’mon.” He took over, undoing the metal clasp on his belt and unzipping his trousers.

Eyes squeezed shut, chin quivering, she sobbed. “Mr. Shelby, please-”

“It’s coming, love,” he chuckled, flicking her forehead. “Take it out.”

“You don’t understand,” she said, pleading, tears streaming down her face. “I could lose my apprenticeship!”

“Then Mr. Shelby will give you a better one,” he said, grabbing her hand and placing it against his hardening cock. “Take it out, go on. Do your job.” She couldn’t look at him while doing it; pulling the waistband of his underwear down by the hooks of her fingers. Her fingers gently caressed the cock before it came out, displayed in front of her. Gently, he lifted her chin. “Open your eyes.” Her eyes fluttered open, averting her glance from his cock. Tommy laughed, and teased, “looks like you don’t wanna be here. Come on now, put a smile on that pretty face.” He pulled the sides of her trembling lips and forced a smile upon her face. “There we go, all happy to take your father’s cock.” The words were enough to send a chill up her spine, nevermind his throbbing cock lightly teasing at her lips. Releasing her lips, he snaked his hand around her head and grabbed her hair through her veil. “That’s what you call your priest, right? Haha, Father Shelby….Fuckin’ ‘ell. Never in my life….” 

“I’ll do it,” she agreed in a whisper. Just please stop taunting me. 

“I know you will,” he said, his other hand rubbing her cheek. What he did next took her by surprise; pulling her head back and a ball of spit forming at his lips. He spit in her face. “Cause I know and you know that deep, deep down you are a dirty fuckin’ girl that craves a cock buried in her holes.” She nodded to please him, repeating that she was a dirty girl and that she wanted his cock in one of her holes. The spit was running down her cheek, dripping to her dress leaving a wet streak. 

“Ahhh,” she moaned, opening her mouth wide and sticking her tongue out. He commented how no true good girl knows how to display her mouth so pretty. Leaning in, she took the tip first; kissing, sucking with a pop. Salty and feeling like sin, his precum rested on her tongue. Deeper he had told her, hands resting on the back of her head, pressing her lightly.

His hips jerked and twitched slightly as he cursed. “Shit,” he hissed, fingers digging into the veil. “C’mon, you can take daddy in more. I know you can…Fuck, baby. How dare you try to hide this mouth from me.” Nervously, she choked and tried to back away before taking him in a little more; tongue swirling around his length. 

With a free hand, she wrapped her fingers around the base of his cock and pumped while her tongue worked the tip. Removing him from her mouth, she slid her lips in an array of kisses and licks around the shaft before taking him in again, sucking up and down, drool dripping from her bottom lip. Tommy closed his eyes, gently rocking his hips into her, head thrown back. Fuck he hissed, enjoying how her mouth was so warm and wet around him. It took all his strength not to pick her up and throw her over the altar. No, no…he couldn’t be that disrespectful. “Fuck, baby girl…You’re too good. You’re so good for me. Look at you…being such a whore for the Devil of Birmingham.” She hated to admit it, but it was getting to her; his hands, his words, his cock. Her legs were trembling with need, and it made her feel ashamed. Sucking his cock, she moaned at his degrading, taunting banter.  “Faster, whore….C’mon, take your daddy deeper.” He pushed in more. The poor girl choked as it hit the back of her throat, but he loved that. It was the best feeling; dominating a cunt’s throat. The way it would make their throat burn. It certainly made hers burn in agony, but she wanted to make him happy. He paused, thumb wiping away tears from under her eyes, giving her a moment's beak. Then, to his surprise, it was her who started bobbing her head again, looking up at him with doe-like eyes. 

Tommy didn’t break eye contact, enjoying it as some form of submission. Bobbing her head faster, her moans matched the speed. To keep him the way she wanted, she gripped his hips. “What a pretty girl,” he commented when she pulled back, allowing the pool of spit in her mouth to drip over his twitching dick. She smiled up at him, lips puffy and abused, before sucking him back in; licking, sucking, swallowing. He helped her along, feeling his orgasm build up; bucking his hips forward, faster and with better rhythm. “Good girl, my good girl…fuck! You’re going to swallow it all for me, right?”

“Mmmhm,” she moaned, cock filling her mouth as she matched his speed.

“Daddy is going to fill all those fuckin’ holes,” he said mid high. “Every one, baby girl. You’re gonna drip his cum from your tight ass and daddy’s going to breed that tight fuckin’ cunt.” His words spilled out, and after a while, he was incoherent. His orgasm ripped through him, lacing the inside of her mouth with hot ropes of cum. “F-fuck,” he groaned, getting a few last pumps out while his eyes went hooded. Breaths jagged and uneven, he pulled away, gripping her chin. “Show daddy…ah, good fuckin’ girl. Swallow it.”

“Ahhh,” she moaned, mouth opened as if she was proud before swallowing it. It tasted salty and a bit sweet. Truthfully, perhaps a little vile, but it made her feel dirty. Tommy leaned down and pressed a kiss to her cocked ruined lips. “Thank you, sir.”

“I told you,” he said, teasing. “I know you are just a dirty little slut deep down. Now, are you going to go repent your dirty little sins or do you want to go for a ride with Mr. Shelby?” He tucked himself away and helped her up. “C’mon.” He answered for her, helping her out of the church and to his car. 

She looked up at him, and asked with a teasing glint in her eyes, “What makes you think I’m going to fuck you?” 

“We already established,” he started, pushing the wooden doors open. “You’re a dirty little girl.” 

[andre-and-cal]

hii!! if u dont mind, could u do some submissive cal hcs pls? :3

Of course !! :D

Bottom Submissive Cal

Before Calvin and Andre had sex for the first time, Cal hadn’t really been fond of the prospect of taking it up the ass, even though he and Andre would be the only ones to know. Well— Cal didn’t really mind it necessarily, yet he did at the same time, if that makes sense. Essentially, Cal knew that at some point he’d have to let Andre see him, let him touch him and all— but he honestly kept putting it off. Kept brushing off Andre’s advances every time the other teen put his hand on his ass or inner leg. Later, Andre was initially kind of apprehensive to take Cal’s virginity, not wanting to accidentally hurt him, even though Cal insisted that he going to be fine.

When Andre jerks him off, the teen rubs his thumb over the slit on the tip of his dick, either mumbling out a soft, “You like that, Cal? You’re so fuckin’ wet… yeah, fuck, look at you,” or a hissing out a rough, “You’re such a messy little bastard. Why d’you cum so fucking easily? Horny bitch,”— Calvin’s fair-skinned cheeks redden at his observable taunts, and his groans become strained and animalistic; he sounds like some animal whining. Calvin enjoys it when Andre manhandles him, when he treats him like he’s lesser than, and his cock certainly does, too. Because he knows he’s at the same level as Andre— but feeling so… inferior compared to the older teen, at times, turns him on.

Cal and Andre have fucked before falling asleep before. They were in Cal’s bed, and Andre had gotten a bit of a “stiffy” after he and Cal were messing around and wrestling. Cal jokingly calling him “lieutenant” really made his cock twitch in his shorts. When they were doing missionary, he had to pat Cal’s cheek to remind him to be silent, and he clasped a hand over Cal’s mouth and forced him to be quiet, whispering a sharp, “Shhhh… c’mon, Cal, shut up. You’re getting too loud. C’mon now— do you want them to hear or some shit?”,, and needless to say, Cal shut his mouth. Eventually, they had to shift positions, with Cal on his hands and knees for Andre and Andre fucking into him slowly— yet his asshole still ended up all puffy and red after. It was better this way, with Cal whimpering into his pillows, getting drool all over the fabric. Andre ended up falling asleep on him, his shaft slipping out of his ass.

Cal has sensitive skin and gets rashes easily, so even the most minor scratches and lacerations result in his skin getting puffy and inflamed for a little while— only really for the rest of that day, though. Penetration to his asshole results in the rim getting swollen and red… Andre likes that. He feels like he owns him, like they own each other, and he knows Cal feels similarly because he hasn’t asked Andre to be gentler with his thrusts. When Calvin cuts himself, Andre gets easily aroused while watching the region encircling the thin, bloodied line extending across his wrist or thigh bulging and shifting into a light shade of pink. Sometimes he wonders if Cal has allergies.

Andre uses a lot of rhetorical questions to get Cal flustered. He kind of can tell what Cal’s body language entails when it comes to their intimacy. If he’s being shy, Andre knows he wants it. Cal isn’t shy around Andre anymore. He knows how much of a psycho he really is. If he’s being forward, Andre definitely knows he wants it. Andre doesn’t want them to get caught, either, even though the thrill of doing something kinda risky is appealing. But Cal and Andre will never risk fooling around in public places. Their bedrooms, the woods sometimes, and Andre’s car are one thing, but anywhere else is a no-go— unless they know the area is secluded, like the school bathrooms. They gain thrills from other activities, such as self-harming.

Cal easily cums in his boxers when he and Andre are dry humping or when he holds a gun up to his head. Because Calvin isn’t really afraid of dying anymore or of the prospect of the trigger somehow going off; he never has— he only remembers that fear from when he was younger. But it wasn’t necessarily a fear. It was just a sense of dread toward losing control of himself and his life, his living self. Now that he’s older and getting ready for Zero Day with Andre, he’s accepted the knowledge that he is going to die. The kindest way to go out is to go out with his boy, and he’s fully prepared to see what’s on the other side with the other teen.

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Talk. || baby daddy!Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

[MASTERLIST]

Rating: M Words: 2.2K~ Pairing: dad!gaz x mother!reader CW: canon-typical violence, events of MW2019 (references), CHILD DEATH (mentioned), pregnancy, underage!! pregnancy, some cultural/religious judgements regarding underage/out-of-wedlock pregnancy, birth (references). Tags: you/your pronouns, (reader implied female because 'mum', 'mama' and other nicknames are used + mentions of pregnant!user), hurt/comfort, fluff?, military inaccuracies I'm sure. Summary: Gaz and the reader are co-parents of a 10-year-old girl (the result of a teen pregnancy). Gaz calls home to talk to his family and he's having a bit of a breakdown after a mission. a/n: This happens in the MW2019 game timeline, somewhere after the Butcher's interrogation. NOT PROOFREAD, NO BETA WE DIE LIKE MEN.

“SIMISOLA RUBY GARRICK, I WILL NOT CALL YOU AGAIN, GET DOWN HERE!” You shout at the top of your lungs, your voice reverberating all the way to the upper floor of your small townhouse.

“IN A MINUTE!” The girl’s voice calls out from upstairs for the… umpteenth time in the last 10 minutes.

“I swear, Kyle, this girl will be the death of me one of these days.” You tell him. “I’m not well-equipped to deal with a teenager.” You grumble as you look at Kyle’s face on the phone screen.

“She’s not a teen yet, lovie.” He retorts with a little smile. “She’s only 10.” He reminds you.

“She’s teenager enough for my taste. Bloody ignoring me whenever I call her!” You reply with a bit of a huff.

“She’s gettin’ older.” He says simply. “You tellin’ me you obeyed your mum every day at her age?” He asks.

“No, but…” You trail off and sigh, dejectedly. “I hate when you make sense, you know that?” You retort, glaring right at him with your best attempt at the ‘mum stare’, but it’s not as effective through the phone.

“Sorry, mama. One of us has to.” She adds with a mischievous smirk on his full lips. He knows how much you like it when he calls you that.

“Shut it, Garrick, I don’t want to hear it.” You retort and you can hear, and see, him giggling on the other side.

From the way the area around him has gotten progressively darker as you spoke for the last 30 minutes, you can tell he’s somewhere out East, somewhere where the sun is starting to set, since in Birmingham it’s only 3 P.M. and still fully bright outside.

“How’s the OP goin’?” You ask despite knowing that he’s not allowed to say anything about it so he simply shoots you a look before raising his fingers to bring a cigarette to his lips, taking a good long drag.

“It’s goin’ fine enough.” He adds and shrugs, before looking off to the distance just off-camera. He’s… lying. You can tell from the way his eyes furrow and his scarred cheek scrunches in frustration.

Turning your head back up, you aim your eyes at the stairs. “BLOODY FUCKIN’ HELL, SIMI, DAD’S ON THE PHONE FOR YOU!” You announce to what, at this point, has to be the ghosts that kidnapped your daughter because she refuses to come downstairs.

Your ears pick up on the sound of her bedroom door flying open and her feet taking her through the carpeted hall and down the steps.

You watch her coming through the vintage, little pass-through window in your kitchen. “Did’ya say dad?!” The dark-skinned girl says as she comes sliding around the corner and into the room.

“Oh, THAT lights a fire under your arse, innit? But not all those other times I told you to come down? What if I was dying, huh?” You scold her and she immediately smiles the same impish smile your baby daddy is sporting on the phone screen. He loves seeing you be maternal.

“Sorry, Mamsie.” She says while showing absolutely no regret at all in her young features. Shaking your head, you pass the phone over to Simi, whose face lights up at the sight of Kyle. “Dad!”

“Oi, kiddo!” You hear Kyle say through the phone as Simisola takes the phone with her down to the sitting room and parks herself on the sofa, talking about all sorts of things with her dad.

You watch her for a moment through the pass-through window. She’s bouncing excitedly, talking about school, her mates, her grades… It’s not often she gets to talk to Gaz, less even that she gets to see him.

Sometimes you wonder if the unpredictability of his job is going to mess her up one day. I mean, her chances of that are already high enough considering the two of you are merely 28 and have been raising her since you were still kids yourselves… But the fact he’s more gone than around in her day-to-day life is bound to mess her up too…

Maybe you should get her into some therapy, just in case.

But then again, she seems surprisingly unaffected by all of this. She’s healthy, smart, sweet… a bit of a smartass (she takes after her dad in that)... And above all else, she seems... happy.

All things considered, of all the blokes that could’ve gotten you knocked up at seventeen, Kyle Garrick was the best option… And your daughter was the best outcome possible.

Sure, you weren’t official or anything back then (nor are you now, really... though you share a bed and a home and you kiss and-), the pregnancy had been an unforeseen consequence of a tryst in the back of a car after drinking at the local pub… But looking back, you got lucky.

Either way, you were both too young, too eager, too needy, too… stupid. Neither of you thought of condoms, hoping the ‘trusty’ pull-out method would suffice.

It didn’t.

You still remember the way you had a panic attack in a toilet stall at school, you and a girlfriend skipping class to pop over to Tesco and buy a box of pregnancy tests… She took one with you, just to ease your worries… And then yours came out positive.

The fear and absolute dread you felt was paralyzing, the way you stayed holed up in the loo while your friend tried to console you and used her fuschia Motorola Razr to text your other friends to come to the toilets after class.

From there, your girlfriends texted his mates, and by the time you noticed, Kyle was elbowing his way into the bathroom, past the group of waiting students, all of them mutual friends of you both. He spotted you sitting on the dirty tile floor in the corner, eyes glued on the pregnancy test in your hand. You were ugly crying, snot all over, and hyperventilating.

Even back then, Kyle was already years ahead of any other teen you knew. He was mature and calm, collected… He sat beside you, rubbed your back, and told you it’d all be okay. You know deep down that he only held it together to calm you down but once he was alone he probably cried like a baby too.

His parents are Nigerian immigrants. In their minds, there was an order of doing things and their only son getting a girl pregnant before marriage (or before hitting maturity, really) was NOT it.

And your parents, well… They weren’t very happy about it either. Not that any parent ever is when their daughter comes home and drops the bomb that she’s expecting.

That was a bad moment for your lives… You both lived with your parents and you had to go back and forth between school and baby appointments… Kyle was by your side the whole time (or as much as he could, considering he had enlisted as soon as he hit 18) and both your parents tried their best to be supportive… But you never quite earned Mr. and Mrs. Garrick’s affection. Not even now, 10 years later.

At first, they didn’t even want to believe the baby was Kyle’s. Your father ended up having some very heated choice words with Mr. Garrick, defending your honor, and almost bringing the house down screaming that you weren’t a slag.

You were on edge and depressed back then. Once the news spread, most of your friends stopped hanging out with you out of pressure put on by their own parents… They still smiled at you and showed encouragement to you whenever you saw each other… But they didn’t come over anymore, barely spoke to you in the halls… 

People stared in the streets… Whenever you went into a baby shop or the diaper aisle at the supermarket… You were stared at. The whispers of “Look at her, such a slag”, “So young and already up the duff…” never came, at least not that you heard them, but you found yourself clutching your mum’s arm particularly hard whenever she managed to drag you out of the flat and to the shops.

You don’t like looking back on the pictures of that year in sixth form. As much as you love your child, seeing the way your face became hollow and sad, your eyes weighed down by dark circles as your belly grew consistently until nothing you wore fit you right… It still stung.

You wonder how you managed to retain enough mental faculties to not earn yourself a post-partum depression diagnosis. Whatever your brain did, it did it well...

With her skin all wrinkly and red and screaming at the top of her lungs, her little fists shaking, eyes all glossy, and a little clump of dark hair on her head slicked back by the amniotic fluid… You fell in love with Simi the moment the nurses set her against your bare chest.

And Kyle did too. You could see it in the way his eyes softened, his lip trembled and his nose and chin scrunched up to contain a wail. As soon as he held her in his arms for the first time, so small against his chest, her little body wrapped in a blanket against his fatigues... you started openly weeping at the sight, blaming the hormones, but the fact of the matter was that she was so small, so tender, so… perfect.

You tune out most of your daughter’s conversation with her father as you go about preparing dinner for the two of you, moving about the kitchen, lost in your own thoughts.

Your ears perk up when you hear Kyle ask Simi if she can pass the phone back to you and let the two of you have a conversation. The girl complains a bit about how much she misses him but ends up acquiescing to him. Daddy’s girl, she is.

She rushes over, her mini twists bouncing with each step as she drops the phone onto your hand and then waves an exaggerated “See you soon, dad!”. You watch her bounce away and trot back up the stairs before you look down at the phone.

Putting on your earpods, you set the phone down on the counter, propped up by the flour container so you can still be in frame as you go about breading some thin chicken cutlets. 

“What is it, Kyle?” You ask him softly and raise your brows at him. His face is a lot more grim and he lights a second cigarette.

“We lost a kid.” He replies softly. “A little boy in Urzikstan.” He adds and sighs loudly. Your whole face twists lightly into sadness. “Some… fuckin’ plonker of a terrorist…” He trails off.

“Did you kill him?” You ask him and he nods his head solemnly. You’ve learned long ago not to give your input too much on these topics… He’s chosen to keep you and your daughter away from it all… 

He once mentioned that asking to be let in would be like 'dipping your pinkie toe in a pond, never knowing if something would be reaching up to pull you in'. You swore he got that quote from a John Wick movie, and then you both laughed… But you knew he meant the sentiment of it.

“I had to stoop down to his level first.” He tells you as he takes another drag os his new cigarette. “Threatened his wife… his son… to get him to talk.” He trails off and sucks in a sharp breath.

Even with the progressive darkness that has set in now, wherever he is, you can still spot the way his nose scrunches as he tries to hold in his crying… His voice is still steady, but his eyes… Always so expressive… You’ve learned to read them in 10 years of co-parenting.

“Every time that bloody barrel even went slightly near that kid’s face I-” Kyle trembles out a breath and rolls his shoulders. Then, he goes quite.

“Anyways…” He says, trying to deflect his feelings away from the things he’s had to do. “I… I miss Simi… And I miss you.” He adds.

“We miss you too, Kyle.” You reply, trying your best to be positive for him. He needs it. “She can’t stop talking about you, counting down the days ‘till you walk through that door and come wrap her in one of those alledgedly ‘annoying’ bear hugs of yours.” You quip and a genuine smirk forms on his lips.

He nods and you notice him through away his cigarette and move somewhere else. As he walks you notice the space is brighter, the camera is facing upwards, and you can see the ceiling and ceiling lights… But above all else, you see his handsome face, the light wisp of a mustache and a goatee, the scar on his left cheek, his tired eyes, and disheveled hair.

He crosses a threshold into another darkened space, but this one is much quieter. You hear some shuffling sounds and even though now you really can’t see shit, you know he’s there, staring at you… And you know he’s lying down.

“Lovie… Can I ask you a favour?” He says as he sighs deeply and slowly.

“Yeah, what is it?” You end up saying as you set aside the breaded cutlets and wash your hands.

“Tell me everything I’m missing. Tell me everything that Simisola did and said… Tell me about your day… about work… share all the gossip you’ve got…” He requests. 

“Just… Just talk my bloody ear off.” He pleads. “I just need to hear your voice.” He adds, his tone a lot more gentler. “Please…”.

[aingeal98]

Orv on the brain again but I really can't get over Han Sooyoung's future clone travelling back in time, possessing her tween body while she sleeps, and using every moment to write a story in order to keep one guy alive. And then when teen HSY starts getting dreams about the story her future self is writing and uses the dreams as writing material for herself because fuck it if you're getting possessed might as well get a skill out of it, the teen boy her older self is trying to keep alive accuses her of plagiarism. Plagiarising herself even though neither of them know it. And so teen HSY sends him anon hate and also writes hate comments about the story her older self is spending every minute of her time conscious writing. And she doesn't have a fuckin clue. Neither of them do. They are the universe's favourite little cosmic joke and they won't understand how deep their own lore goes until the feelings are too real for them to do anything but repeat the cycle. Like. One version of herself sacrifices herself for this guy and another version meets him for the first time and they're both like "Damn what an annoying loser." The layers and complexities that go into the doksoo Ultimate Story: Clown to Clown Communication are a marvel to read.

[soneybeee]

SWANSEA. YES PLEASE, I read your new fanfic with him— oh Lord tears. Not those of you're thinking off— ANYWAYS. I LOVED IT ABSOLUTELY MASTERPIECE... and I uh was wondering if you could do another one..

a very horny reader x an annoyed swansea— I'LL BE HAPPY WITH ANYTHING. even if just riding his THIGH. Like please I NEED THAT MAN. -♥︎

Summary: You're so horny, it's unbearable. When your fingers aren't enough, you seek help from your mentor, who begrudgingly agrees.

Swansea x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: Smut, NSFW, 18+! Thigh riding, unprotected PIV, degradation, age gap, power dynamics?, singular pussy slap, cum swallowing, dacryphilia :]

A/N: EEEEEEEEEE thank you for the request!!! i feel so special <3 i hope you like ittt :3 sorry it's so short! let me know if you meant another stepdad!swansea!! if you did, i can write more of that!!

You peek around the corner, trying to gather all your courage. Swansea is fiddling with something in the utility room, grumbling under his breath. You’re terrified to ask him for help, but that’s his job, right? He’s supposed to be helping you! And you’re way too worked up to change your mind now.

“Sir?” You clear your throat, stepping through the doorway. Swansea jumps.

“Jesus H. Christ,” He wipes a hand down his face. “Where’d you come from, kid?”

“Bathroom,” You make sure the door shuts all the way before you venture any further into the room. “I, um… You know that you’re a really great teacher, Mr. Swansea?”

He scoffs - How many times have I told you not to call me that? - and crosses his arms. “What do you want?”

You sit down on the edge of the counter space in the corner, fiddling with the zipper on your regulation jumpsuit. “I need… Help.”

“Oookay,” Swansea rolls his eyes, glaring at you with the most irritation you’ve ever seen on his face, which is a tremendous feat. “With what?”

Here goes nothing.

You slowly spread your legs apart. Your jumpsuit is still zipped, so you’re not technically revealing yourself to him. The implication is clear.

“You’re fuckin’ joking.” He shakes his head. But he doesn’t move an inch. Surely if he was going to report you to Curly, he would be walking away by now, right? It’s not like he’s ever cared to spare your feelings before, why would he start now?

“M’not.” You whisper, tracing a single finger up one of your thighs. 

“There’s no fuckin’ way, kid,” But he takes a step closer. “Are you even old enough to drink?”

You don’t answer. That doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you desperately need release, and Swansea is a hot older man equipped with thick fingers, thick thighs, and - If he’s proportional - A thick cock.

“You’re fuckin’ insane.” Swansea sits himself down on the spinny chair in front of you. He looks past you, making sure the door is still shut. “Whatever, kid. What d’you need from me?”

“Not much,” You bite your lip, hopping off of the counter. You don’t have to walk very far before you’re right in front of him. He’s not looking at you. Not even when you start unzipping your jumpsuit, or when you plop yourself down on one of his meaty thighs. “Not much…”

“Jesus fuckin’- Alright,” One of his hands rests on your waist. “Go on, then. And don’t take too long.”

You grind yourself forward on his pant leg, whimpering at the pressure on your clit. It’s mesmerizing to watch your hips move on his thigh. But his face is more mesmerizing, you think. He’s got his head tilted back against the chair, bored out of his mind like a teen in a lecture. You’re so used to his indifference that it doesn’t hurt your feelings anymore. It’s even a little attractive to be so blatantly disregarded when you’re clearly so desperate. 

“You’re gonna have to go faster than that,” He chastises, roughly maneuvering your hips to increase your speed. “Every second you waste is a second someone could walk in.”

“Sorry…” You exhale, restlessly grinding against his thigh. He’s guiding you perfectly - Has he done this before? Maybe. You don’t want to think about it.

“...You’re alright.” He grumbles, finally looking at you. You are pretty cute, he can’t deny that. Still, he shouldn’t be letting you do this. You’re basically his student! There’s not a single situation where it would be appropriate for you to be this close to naked in front of him, let alone grinding on him. 

And yet…

“Bet you can’t feel much with this on,” He hooks his finger in the waistband of your panties and snaps the elastic against your skin. “Take it off - Don’t look at me like that, kid. I don’t want you to take it off. I just want this to go faster.”

You giggle as you lift yourself onto your knees, working your underwear down one leg at a time. It ends up in a heap on the floor with your jumpsuit. Swansea grips your hips with both hands this time, forcefully guiding your movements back and forth. There’s a stripe of slick left on his pant leg, but he doesn’t mind. Not that he’d ever tell you that. 

“Makin’ a fuckin’ mess,” He tsks, bouncing his leg. “Who’s gonna clean that, huh? Are you?”

You whine. “I-I will…”

“Sure you will,” He scoffs, rocking you hard enough that the chair starts to move along with you. “Sure you fuckin’ will. ‘Cause we both know you’re great at doing what I ask.”

“M’sorry…” You mewl, gripping his shoulders, digging your nails into his shirt. 

Swansea looks at you like you’re the most inconvenient of inconveniences, shaking his head at you. It makes you shudder and moan, and he wonders what the fuck must’ve happened in your childhood to make you like that. He suddenly stops you, blunt nails digging into your hips to keep you still.

“Y’know what?” He narrows his eyes at you. “Get up. Bend over.”

Your legs are shaking like crazy, but you listen. Of course, you listen now, when he’s about to stuff you full of cock. That’s all you’re good for, huh? Being filled with cock. 

You bend over the counter, resting your cheek on the cold surface as you wait. You can hear Swansea’s belt get pulled through the loops. Then you hear the button pop open. Then you hear the zipper.

“So fuckin’ wet,” He stands behind you, gripping your ass and spreading your cheeks apart so he can see where to put his dick. Your cunt is soaked, radiating heat, and your hole is fluttering. He gives your pussy a little slap. “You’re fuckin’ sick. Look how much you want this.” 

Swansea pushes his cock between your folds, rubbing himself with your wetness to use as lube. Your thighs twitch every time he brushes against your clit. 

He presses his hand to the top of his dick so he can finally fuck you. He doesn’t care that you’ve probably never taken cock as big as his, he fills you all the way up in seconds. You squeal, thighs pressing together and fingers gripping the edge of the counter hard enough that your knuckles blanche. Swansea can feel your pussy trying to push him out, not stretched out enough yet to take all of him, but he doesn’t care. He just humps deeper into you.

“You’re not gettin’ out of this,” He groans, putting one of his hands over your mouth to keep you quiet. This would look bad if someone walked in. Guess he’ll just have to be quick. “You wanted this so fuckin’ bad, so you’re gonna have to fuckin’ take it. I don’t care how tight your little pussy squeezes me.”

You whine, but it’s good. Oh, it’s good. You can feel every inch of him, stretching you from the inside out. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s definitely a little uncomfortable at first. Only for a few thrusts, though, and then you’re overwhelmed with the feeling of being completely full. He couldn’t get any deeper if he tried.

And, fuck, does he try.

He’s merciless, using his hand on your mouth to pull you back onto him, barely pulling out of you with every thrust, forcing himself as deep as he can go with every movement. You’re sobbing into his palm, practically vibrating from how much you’re shaking. It feels like you’re gonna split into two, and you’re not convinced Swansea would stop if you did.

“You cryin’, kid?” He chuckles. “Jesus. You’re sick in the head.”

Maybe you are. But if being sick in the head means you can get your guts rearranged by him more often, you’d gladly be institutionalized. It would be more than worth it.

“Are you nodding?” It’s said in genuine disbelief. “You’re fucked up, kid.”

Swansea feels like he’s gonna come, but he can’t until you do. You came to him for help - What kind of mentor would he be if he used you to get himself off without at least fulfilling your request first? He reaches a hand under you to clumsily rub your clit, slipping all over the place from how wet you’ve gotten. You bite the side of his hand to shut yourself up, earning a little chuckle from him. 

“You’re squeezin’ me again,” He grumbles, hooking a finger in your mouth for you to bite instead. “Gonna come? Finally?”

Your answer comes in the form of an orgasm. You pulse around him, squirming away from his unforgiving finger and even less forgiving dick. He’s not having it, leaning over your back to keep you in place.

“Just hold still, Jesus Christ,” He huffs into your ear, thrusts starting to get sloppy. “You got what you wanted, kid. Just hold on for another damn second.”

It’s a terrible idea to finish inside you. He might’ve done it if you guys would be back on Earth nine months from now, but you’ve still got a year left on the Tulpar. The last thing any of you need is to deal with a newborn in space.

Instead, he pulls out a little early. “Bring your mouth down here.”

You can barely force your muscles to work, but you manage. You flop onto the floor in front of him, mouth wide open and tongue eagerly stuck out. Your eyes are closed and your chest is heaving. Poor thing. You’re exhausted.

Not too exhausted to swallow some cum, though.

Swansea taps his tip on your tongue as he finishes, groaning as he watches the white ropes shoot down your throat and all over your tongue. He almost comes again, honest to God. 

“Swallow.” He forces your mouth shut and gives your jaw a little tap. 

It’s hard to be annoyed with you when you proudly stick your tongue out to show him you listened.

[himbo-ford-pines]

hehehehehehe evil thots illegal thots here have bad babysitter Stan

CW: drinking

——————

Stanley watched his brother run full speed around the house. He sighed. He should have never given into the boy’s pleas for ice cream. Their parents were going to be gone overnight and had tasked Stanley with watching the seven year old Stanford. He recalled his pa’s warning before they left the house: “He’d better be asleep by eight, and eat his entire dinner and-“ blah blah blah. Stanley knew what he was doing. Christ they worried so much.

He was pulled from his thoughts when he heard a crash. He paled. “Sixer, I know you didn’t run into that fucking urn.” He stared hard at their grandmother’s ashes on the floor. “God… dammit. Okay.” He stood and grabbed the broom, muttering to himself. He was gonna get his ears boxed for this.

Stanford stepped back and rubbed his arm sheepishly. “Sorry Stanley, I was pretending to be a B-52 and-“

“Yeah, bud, I saw.” He sighed. “You need to calm down a little, you’re literally bouncin’ off the walls. In fact-“ he glanced up at the cat clock monotonously ticking away above the entrance to the kitchen. “I think it’s bedtime.” He considered ashes in the dustpan and grabbed a Tupperware, dumping them in while his brother whined at him.

“What?! That’s not fair, you get to stay up all night and watch tv!”

“Yeah, cuz I’m charge tonight, and Pa gave me specific instructions on what to do with you. I’m not getting my ass whooped because you wanna watch cartoons longer than normal. I’m already getting it because you spilled Grandma on the fuckin floor.” He wiped his hands off on his white shirt, grimacing at the dark smudges. Sorry Grandma.

Ford frowned. “But I’m not tired.”

Stanley frowned. Getting this kid in bed when he didn’t want to go was nearly impossible. Then he remembered his ma talking about giving them gin on her finger when they were babies to calm them down and put them to sleep. He wondered if beer would do the same. “Tell ya what, you can stay up with me, but you have to drink with me. You wanna be a man or whatever? Come on.” He grabbed a six pack he’d stolen from the local grocery store from the fridge and placed it on the coffee table imposingly. “Think you’re up for it?”

Stanford puffed out his chest in pride. “I can do it! I am a man!” He ran over to the couch and sat down, keeping his arms crossed.

Stanley threw some pajamas at him. “At least get cozy.”

Ford groaned and started taking off his clothes. Stanley found his eyes trailing over the boy’s soft body, coming to rest on the boy’s tighty whiteys. He shook his head when Stanford pulled his pj’s back on and flopped down onto the couch, cracking open a cold one with the boy. He grabbed the clicker and switched on the tv, flipping through channels until they hit some documentary and Sixer started yelling at his older brother to stop there so he could learn about jellyfish. Stanley groaned but figured the kid would only be up for a little longer so he obliged and settled back as he was lectured on the stages of jellyfish life, polyp stage, Medusa stage, blah blah blah. He sipped his beer boredly, and pulled the boy closer, offering him the bottle. “Here. You said you’d keep up with me.”

Stanford took it, a bit unsure of himself and sniffed it, recoiling a bit at the heavy fermented wheat smell. “You sure Pa won’t get mad?”

“Not if Pa doesn’t know. You gonna rat me out?”

“No.”

“Then shut up and quit worrying. Drink.” He opened another beer for himself and chugged half of it, letting out a loud long burp afterwards that sent Stanford into giggles.

“Gross Stanley!” He hit his arm and regarded the bottle before taking a tentative sip and almost spitting it out. Stanley covered his mouth.

“Swallow, Sixer.”

Ford swallowed with a shudder and let out a much smaller burp. Stanley grinned and nodded for him to keep going as the teen continued sipping his own beer. Stanford wasn’t going to back down from a challenge- he never did. So he drank. He finished the bottle about the same time that Stanley was half way through his second. He leaned back with a groan. His tummy hurt, but he didn’t feel drunk? At least, he didn’t think so?

“Hey kid, go grab those chips.” Stanley pointed to the bag of potato chips on the counter in the kitchen. “But finish this first.” He handed him the half full bottle of beer he had been working on. “Then we’ll be even.” He smirked, seeing the unsure look on Ford’s face. “Unless you’re chicken.”

Ford wrinkled his nose and tilted the bottle back, holding his breath to avoid tasting the sour liquid as it washed down his throat. He slammed the bottle down on the table, burped in his brother’s face, stood up determinedly, took one step towards the kitchen, and fell flat on his face with a groan.

Stanley burst out laughing and stood, stretching. “That was so easy. Alright, bed-“ his inebriated brain focused in on the lining of Ford’s underwear peeking out from his pajama pants. His cock jumped in his own sweats. He looked at the clock. He still had hours before their parents were home… and he and Ford had played before. It’s not like he hadn’t gotten a yes any other time he’d asked, why would this time be different. He picked the drunk kid up and tossed him on the couch.

Stanford grunted and blinked up at him. “Dizzy…”

“Shh.” He pulled the boy’s pants and underwear off, silent, and let Ford’s legs fall back onto the couch as he stared at the boy’s soft cock. He just… he needed this. He reached for another beer and took a drink of it before pushing it to his brother’s lips, making him take a drink despite Ford shaking his head. Stanley pushed Sixer back down onto the couch and pulled his cock out, stroking himself with a small groan before going down, taking Stanford’s entire package into his mouth and moving his tongue around, playing with his tiny cock and his fucking grape sized excuse for a sack. Ford let out a lewd noise, tangling small hands in his brother’s hair. “S-Stanleyyyy~” he crooned before his mouth fell open. He stared at the ceiling fan for what felt like a very long time as he focus’s on his brother’s warm mouth on his privates. He gasped- he was about to finish in his brother’s mouth when Stanley pulled off with a shimmery line of pre connecting his lips to Ford’s cock. He grabbed his brother’s legs and lifted them before spitting right onto his ass and shoving two finger into him. Ford yelped at the sudden penetration, wiggling clumsily in Stanley’s grasp but Stan had a big advantage on him in size and sobriety. “Easy buddy, I’m not gonna fuck you tonight, not really anyway. You get fingered and put to bed, that’s it.”

Ford let out an unintelligible whimpering slur of words at him that Stanley ignored as he felt around for Ford’s sweet spot. He found it quickly- he knew his way around- and didn’t let up on it, touching and feeling the boy’s prostate until Stanford came all over his own legs, blubbering and gasping. Stanley pulled his fingers out slowly and wiped them on the couch as he watched Ford catch his breath. “Are you ready for bed yet Sixer?”

Ford just closed his eyes and Stanley sighed in relief, curling around him in an apartment that was finally quiet.

[jessiexcorner]

Heartbreak Highs

Description: Amerie, Harper, and (Y/n). The three were the best of friends until the incest map. A heartbreak high x reader. 

"I met Ameire when I was five."

A little brown girl with blue overalls and a pink shirt walks over to two girls one blond hair and the other (h/c). The blond draws a crocodile while the (h/c) hands her green crayons as she makes her own painting. “What’s that?” The new girl asks,

“It's a crocodile.” The blond responds.

“It's shit.” The brown girl states. The blond drops her pencil to flip off the new girl, making her smile, while the (h/c) hair girl giggles.

"For a long time, it had just been me and Harper, but with Ameire we were unstoppable."

The three girls run as a teacher chases them through the hall, “Stop it!” The girls giggle and run faster.

"They were my ride or dies. Nobody could come between us. Well, that was until the incest map. Ameire and Harper were super into romance, not that I wasn’t, it's just they tended to watch people.”

(Y/n) takes out her books from her locker clutching onto them as her friends, Amire and Harper giggle holding their books while staring at a couple making out against the lockers. The (h/c) color girl tries to pull them away from the scene but they don't budge.

"In so a creepy way.”

The girls now older, still watch as a couple fights making fun and guessing what the couple could probably be saying. “Oh, I swear to god Jessica you know I'm good for it eh?” Harper makes her voice deeper playing the man.

“If you touch her again I’ll fuckin smash ya, ya cheatin’ dog.” Ameire uses a high pitch.

“No babe, I'm fuckin’—“

“Kiss me!” Both girls make kissing noises. (Y/n) watches the teens quietly shaking her head.

“I don’t exactly know when it started to happen, but somehow I ended up drifting apart from the two,”

Amerie and Harper giggle as they write on the Incest map while (y/n) stands in the corner watching quietly. “You’re obsessed,” Harper comments as Amerie draws a line with a gold marker across her name and dusty.

“Destined,” Amerie says with a smile, (Y/n) looks down playing with the small rock on the floor, kicking it around, bored.

“Harper tried to include me in their activities, Amerie on the other hand seems to forget me more often. Maybe it's because Harper knew me for longer. Eventually, Harper left me behind too. I used to miss them from time to time and the fun we used to have, but now when I look back at those times, I remember they mostly kept me around because their parents trusted me, and if they were around ‘(Y/n) the good kid who gets grades and doesn’t do drugs’, they thought maybe their kids wouldn’t either, which gave harper and Amerie more freedom to actually, go out and do drugs. I completely stopped talking to them after the fight.”

“Ugh, I can't wait for the festival,” Amerie states sitting down on (Y/n)’s floor while eating a bunch of junk candy. Home worksheets thrown on the floor, harper lays on (y/n)’s bed taking some junk food from Amerie.

“I know right, I even got Cash to come and sell us some drugs, we are going to get so wasted.” Harper boasts. (Y/n) sits on her desk trying to finish her homework, ignoring the girls.

“Ah, no way? I can't wait, I got the tickets too! Look,” Amerie says taking out the tickets from her backpack and holding them out for Harper to see. Harper takes the tickets to inspect them noticing something.

“Am, there are only two tickets,” Harper states sitting up now.

“What?” Amerie looks up.

“You only got two tickets, what about (Y/n)?” Harper asks confused.

“Oh, well, she didn't give me the money for it so,” Amerie says glancing at the (h/c) hair-colored girl who sighs.

“I'm not coming.”

“What? Why not?” Harper questions.

“Because I don't want to keep being your guy’s babysitter when you get high or drunk.”

“..well you can just, drink with us,” Amerie states as if it's the easiest solution in the world.

“No, I can't Amerie, because if you knew anything you would know I don't want to.” (Y/n) snaps a little putting her finished homework away.

“..why are you so pissed off? It's just—“ Amerie gets cut off.

“Why am I so pissed off? Amerie. It's like the only time you guys ever hang out with me is because you want something from me or when I have use to you!”

“That's not true.” Harper defends herself and Amerie.

“Yes, it is! You only hang out with me because your parents think that you wouldn't possibly be going out to get drunk with me, and you guys are literally here because you wanted to copy my homework answers. You never hang out with me anymore just doing things like normal, it's always watching the latest hook-up or gossip or getting high and drunk. You never even invite me out anymore.” (Y/n) says angrily shaking a little trying to keep calm. The other two girls are silent and look at each other before collecting their things ready to leave.

“We’ll talk when you've calmed down,” Amerie says picking up her back.

“Oh fuck you, Amerie, just leave, I don't wanna talk to you again.” (Y/n) snaps. The brown girl walks out leaving Harper.

“..I,” Harper starts but then pauses not knowing what to say, muttering an apology while she walks off following Amerie, leaving (Y/n) by herself.

“After that, Harper would occasionally text me, and ask to try to hang out and watch movies like old times, but it wasn't the same. There was always this weird tension. I made new friends though, better friends. Quinni and Darren. Those two are actual ride or dies. They made me feel like I didn't have to pretend or have to get high for them to like me, they treated me right. I had almost forgotten about Harper and Amerie for a while, well that was until that night..”

At school grounds early in the morning, (Y/n) walks up to Quinni and Darren who are talking before someone bumps in between the two, squealing, ‘Dusty spoke to me!’ And giggling. “‘Dusty spoke to me’ what a pick me bitch. Also rude.” Darren mocks the brown girl who bumped them. (Y/n) chuckles lightly, agreeing.

“Maybe she didn't see us,” Quinni says kindly giving Amerie the benefit of the doubt.

“Oh please, Check the material. We are beautiful, exquisite jellyfish.” Darren says linking arms with both girls, brushing Quinni’s hair lightly, “of course they saw us.” They all walk heading to the school building. (Y/n) looks at her phone, sending a quick message to a contact labeled ‘H.’, ‘you coming soon?’ There’s a pause before the person responds with ‘yea see you there.’ The trio walks towards the steps seeing a new face. “Fresh blood,” Darren whispers to the two girls, (Y/n) looks up from her phone noticing a boy in a yellow t-shirt and multi-colored striped pants, asking for directions. As they walk past him to the stairs, the boy makes eye contact with (Y/n) giving a small awkward smile. (Y/n) smiles back and walks with her friends up the stairs, “What was that?” Darren questions,

“What?”

“Were you trying to flirt with him? Oh, baby (Y/n), growing up so fast.” They say teasing.

“Shut up.” (Y/n) ignores the taller stylish kid. The three are about to head to class when someone shouts gaining everyone’s attention.

“Oi! There’s a fully-gacked sex map in the old stairwell. It's called the incest map!” The person shouts walking away, everyone intrigued follows, heading to the stairwell. (Y/n) looks over noticing Amerie stood still with a look of panic. Both girls rush to the stairwell, (Y/n) catching up with her friends. She looks over the map noticing it has grown much bigger than the last time she saw it, then again she stopped coming her long before the fight. She notices new names, including those of her friends Quinni and Darren, she looks over and notices her own name, not connected to anyone just having the words ‘Fish.’ In bold written in familiar handwriting. She tries to swallow the lump in her throat. She notices Missy walking away from her girlfriend upset about what she saw on the map.

“Darren jerked you off? Nice bro, you into dudes now?” A kid, Spider, teases their friend Anthony, also named Ant.

“Little cheeky huh?” Dusty comments, making a crude hand gesture.

“Who says I'm a dude?” Darren retaliates.

“Oh! Look (Y/n)’s a fish!” A couple of boys laugh. “Awe, I can change that for you if you want (Y/n)” Spider says making kissy faces at the girl who clenches her jaw. Looking over at Amerie who looks panicked and avoiding the girl’s gaze. Quinni searches the wall for her name before finding it, labelled ‘lazy kebab’

“That’s not true, what’s a lazy kebab? Spider what's a lazy kebab?” Quinni calls the guy who is said to spread the rumor.

The kids are called for a school meeting and they all sit in the hall. “It's mostly kids from our level, it must be someone we know,” Quinni comments her observation to the other two, who sit down.

“It's probably Spider or one of those idiots. Most of its bullshit anyway,” Darren says sitting in the middle comforting the girls. (Y/n) sits quietly beside Darren, glaring at Amerie, and forcing the kid in the seat next to her to move, leaving an empty seat beside her.

“So crazy right?” Amerie comments. (Y/n), although sitting a couple of seats away, hears this and scoffs. A girl walks into the hall wearing a grey shirt and red pants and having a shaved head.

“Holy shit is that Harps? Oh my god her hair,” Sasha comments sitting next to Amerie, she throws a paper ball at Harper only to miss. Most kids turn to look at the girl. Harper walks towards (Y/n) and sits next to her in the empty seat quietly. 

Amerie notices and stands calling out, “Harper,” only to be ignored and told to sit down by the principal.

“Fish, really couldn’t think up anything more clever than that?” (Y/n) comments blankly not looking at the girl next to her, Harper turns to glance at (Y/n) and mutters an apology.

“I didn't write it.”

“I know but, you didn’t stop her either.” (Y/n) sighs as she looks over at Harper before turning away and focusing on the principal. Both sit quietly next to each other.

There is complete silence. “I am a woke woman.” The principal starts. “I enjoy sex as much as the next person.” She states, making a couple of kids laugh and snicker. “But reputation is everything and this map has jeopardised your reputations and the reputation of our school on the first day back. We are currently in the process of contacting all the parents of everyone on this map and have strongly suggested that there are to be no more parties, shindigs, or gathos.” The students erupt in protest, while Amerie continues to look at Harper and (Y/n), who are sitting quietly. “Hey, hey, unsupervised parties equals alcohol. Alcohol equals poor choices. The risk-taking behaviors outlined on this map are unacceptable. Hartley High prides itself on being a safe environment.” Darren laughs at this. “But clearly this is a wake-up call that we are not doing enough. Oh, and we will find out who did this.” Amerie gulps. “Get to class, go, go, go.” Students stand and head to their classes, (Y/n) and Harper stand and walk together while Darren and Quinni follow.

“Harper, (Y/n) oi!” Amerie calls out only to be ignored and stopped by the principal. “Miss Wadia. Come with me.”

Ameire sits in principal Stacy’s office. “Well, I’ve had quite the education this morning, Amerie. “Wristy? Oh, right.” She reads off her phone. “Doughy? Fish?” Her dog, Joan of Bark, whimpers sitting in his bed. “I think I can work out ‘tongue punch in the fart box.’” She sighs and puts her phone down, while Amerie sits smiling. “I know it was you, Amerie. One of our maintenance staff saw you in the stairwell multiple times. Who else was in on it? Your usual accomplice, Harper? Did you also force (Y/n) into it with you two?”

“Nobody else was in on it,” Amerie says confidently no longer smiling.

"Do you know who I just got off the phone with? The Guardian, Amerie. The Guardian."

"...Okay?"

"Were all of these acts consensual?"

"I guess." Amerie shrugs confused.

"Are your mates using protection?" The principal questions.

"I don't know."

"Well, how can you know that Alyssa scissored Nina, but not know if they're using contraception?" She asks suspiciously.

"I don't think you have to use contraception when you scissor someone, Miss." Amerie sarcastically retorts.

"I'd say that's a very dangerous assumption actually, Amerie. What do we have to do to get through to you? We've done the classes. We've watched the videos. We've had the police consultants in. And yet, here we are with this map." Miss Stacy scolds, "One foot out of line, one late slip, one phone infraction, and I will expel you. Understood?"

"Can I go to class now?"

"Yes, you may."

"Okay."

"Wait! You call this the Incest Map. I'm assuming that's just a play on words and not the actual..."

"Play on words, Miss." She quickly assures the principal.  

"Okay, good. Now, get out of my office before I do expel you, by the count of three. One, two, three!" She sighs.

Pt.2;  https://www.tumblr.com/jessiexcorner/716409910079913984/heartbreak-highs-pt-2?source=share

[erodasfishtacos]

A Fix For Loneliness Sneak Peek (up on patreon)

prompt: YN is learning she has no self-preservation. It’s why she keeps running into her stranger. A man who won’t tell her anything, gives her instructions, and occasionally isn’t downright awful.

word count: 9.5k+

warnings: h is obviously not a good person, violence, blood, medical stuff, mean H, dark H

authors note: the rest of the one shot is up on patreon. i will be updating this shortly over there too! I update every one to three days.

you can subscribe for $3USD here

I have upwards of 300 pieces of exclusive writing available 💓

———

YN was too kind.

She knew that.

It’s why she became a nurse, to help others in their time of need, and that’s exactly what she did in the emergency department of her local hospital.

When she was walking down a back alley one night (she knew it wasn’t safe but it was such a quicker shortcut after a thirteen hour shift she couldn’t ignore it even if it was one in the morning).

YN’s half-asleep on her feet when she runs into quite the scene, a man who has to be around her age was dressed in dark jeans and a black tee shirt.

There was blood dripping from his jaw and his bottom lip was swollen up, already bruising under the drying blood.

He had just tossed something into the dumpster before slamming the lid shut with a deafening echo and despite the warning signals, YN can’t ignore him.

“Oh my goodness. You’re bleeding, sir,” YN jumps into nurse mode, hurrying up to him and without permission, tilting his head gently to the side.

The man narrows his eyes at her, clearly taken aback, and takes three big steps away from her reach towards the opposite building.

He makes a show of spitting out a mouthful of blood onto the pavement before wiping his mouth crudely with the back of his hand.

His voice was deep and scratchy, it matched his appearance, his accent thick and rough, “M’fucking fine. Back off and mind your own god damn business.”

YN is used to fiesty patients, it doesn’t phase her much as she examines him from afar now, “I’m a nurse.”

The man sneers at her, “Surprisingly, I’m not fucking blind. I don’t want your help. Run the fuck along now, little miss hero.”

YN glances down, still in her scrubs, of course he would see she’s a nurse, and distraught at this man refusing help.

She’s tired, she’s overworked, and the fact that she knows she’ll perseverate on this if he doesn’t let her help makes her choke out a frustrated sniffle.

The brunette man, with a scowl of impatience scoffs of disbelief, “Are you really about to fuckin’ cry?”

“I jus-just want to help. I lost tw-two patients today and couldn’t-couldn’t save them,” YN begins to tear up now, wiping her eyes, it was always a hard day when she lost patients.

Two today.

An older woman with a heart attack.

A teen in a car accident.

“Fucks sake,” The bloody man groans under his breath, his eyes darting up and down the alleyway, “You’re going to cause a scene over this, aren’t you? I don’t have bloody time for this.”

He stomps towards her which makes her freeze but he stands in front of her with a agitated flick of his hand, “If you’re going to do your nurse shit, do it! I don’t have god damn time for your cry baby act. Of course, I get my plans ruined.”

YN obviously doesn’t know what he’s talking about but he seems like he has places to be and she’s holding him up.

Where on earth could he go with his face looking like that anyways?

“I-I don’t have anything with me,” YN stutters after a moment, this man was intimidating as he had major height advantage, he appeared lean but his muscle definition proved he was strong.

“Okay, then see ya’,” He grunts lowly, moving to turn on his heel but YN grabs his wrist without thinking to stop him.

“My-uh, my apartment,” YN’s throat is dry, what the fuck is she doing, “I have the stuff at my apartment up the street.”

“Did your parents never teach you stranger danger? Inviting a man you’ve never met, bleeding, up to your apartment?” He asks with an eyebrow raise, wiping his continuous bleeding wound with his shirt, flashing a sliver of his carved abdominal muscles.

“You need help,” YN replies unsurely, her behaviors are so uncharacteristic but she felt drawn to help this stranger.

A small group of people pass the corridor of the alleyway, with laughs and drunk words, and the man she’s standing with perks up at high alert.

“Fuck,” He hisses angrily, that seemed to be his favorite word, yanking his hand out of her grip and muttering so softly YN doesn’t know whether she heard him right, “gonna get me caught.”

“Stand over there and turn around,” The man demands sharply, YN wasn’t used to being talked to that way but she finds herself walking towards the edge of the alley and turning away.

YN hears rustling, the dumpster being open and closed again, and a few unidentifiable noises before she hears his footsteps approaching.

His hand on her shoulder is tight as he spins her around, “If I let you fix me up, will you leave me the fuck alone and more importantly, never mention this to anyone?”

YN’s brow furrows, “Why can’t I tell-“ The man hisses in agitation, fingers digging into her skin more has harshly, “Answer me.”

It’s the first time that chills are sent down her spine at his gritted words, everything in her is screaming to run, her fight or flight triggered.

“I-I won’t tell,” YN agrees breathlessly, skin tingling when he lets go and pushes her forward, not aggressively but enough that she stumbles.

“Then move already,” He orders and when she tries to turn around to look at him, his hand comes to her neck, keeping her facing forward.

Whatever he was doing in that alley, he really didn’t want her to see, and he didn’t seem like he was open to answering questions.

YN keeps trying to justify why she’s letting a bleeding, angry man into her home as she shakily unlocks the door.

[madam-o]

Re the weird divide in the Beetlejuice fandom, which I really don't get

Fandom is so strange. Just liking Beetlejuice himself as a character has invited all manner of unusual kinks and personal interests into the fandom, and hey, the more the merrier. Beetlefans and netherlings are an assembly of interesting weirdos, so like, you do you. And obviously, this means that you should try not to judge or make assumptions about others based on your own feelings about their interests. Riiiight?

So, Beetlebabes as a ship has been around since the beginning of the fandom, and it certainly seems likely not to be going anywhere with the sequel. Now, my own personal stance on the pairing lies straight in the middle. I think Lydia and Beej have a beautiful friendship in the animated series and musical. They're such a great comedic duo and there's something very pure and sweet about this girl and her bug-man. Their relationship in the musical IS colored by the fact that they're both using and tricking each other a lot of the time, but they seem to have a mutual respect on this point and don't let it ruin their friendship, well until the topic of moms comes up, anyway.

In the movie, it's more complicated. BJ is motivated primarily by his desire to be free and couldn't care less about Lydia's problems. He also gets just a tad creepy with Lydia, though he's not over the top about it. He claims that he thinks that she "really understands me", which is a frickin weird thing to say about a kid who you talked to for like five minutes. But the pervy implications are kept to a minimum so as not to drive the movie into darker territory. His motivations are still kept as primarily a green card thing, although the viewer is still pretty grossed out by the forced, child-bride marriage.

Re BJ, I don't see him as a human or someone who really follows human rules. He's a supernatural creature who has a vague, outsider's understanding of what being human means. Even interpreting him as a ghost and not a demon, he's too different from a human to remember what being one is like. In the musical and cartoon, he relates to Lydia from a child's pov, but tries to behave like an adult with the Maitlands. He's neither, though. He's an unliving, essentially immortal Thing. And while Lydia clearly has a lot of affection for "her monster", she's not exactly into this gross, stinky, creepy old guy. As for BJ, he's very attached to Lydia, perhaps unhealthily so, but he's not being a sexual predator with her.

However, as a Beetlefan, I've seen that it's pretty natural to pair the two up romantically. I certainly shipped them as a kid. And yeah, it's kind of a weird ship, but Beetlejuice as a concept is just weird, period. Weirdness and age gaps are hardly anything new or unique in any part of the internet. Teen fans ship characters their own age with much older characters all the time, and it's not usually frowned upon. But in the Beetlejuice fandom, there appears to be a lot of ship-shaming and accusations of p3d0ph1lia when it comes to this teen/ancient monster pairing, which I'm guessing is a lot more of an internet drama thing than about the actual pairing itself.

Now to be clear, I don't ship teen Lydia with anyone, but I also acknowledge that she's not gonna stay a kid and that things could change between them.

Personally I like the idea of Lydia and BJ being reunited after spending several years apart and things being super weird and tense based on their history. I've become primarily a fan of the relationship dynamic they have in the musical, so I see them as being distrustful of each other and competitive about getting one over the other. But they still gel in a unique way, and they can't help but enjoy their messed-up frenemy thing. And I think the awkwardness of the teen bride thing should be leaned into rather than forgotten or brushed away.

Lydia (to BJ): You really fucked me up, you know. I was just a sad kid who you manipulated. You fuckin creep.

BJ (to Lydia): Yeah but at least I didn't literally STAB YOU THROUGH THE HEART, so...point to me, there.

This type of prickly, antagonistic relationship is like catnip to me, honestly. So it's pretty disappointing and sad that all this fandom drama crap can and probably will affect my ability to share and enjoy beetlebabes content because "beetlebabes dni" appears on so many profiles and posts. It's the kinda thing that makes fandom culture such a double-edged freaking sword. Why can't people ever just let people enjoy the thing they like and try to be respectful of each other, ya know?

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

it's finally here! one month late, and a couple thousand words more than i thought it'd be! happy leap yeap!

Here's my entry for Lex's (@thefreakandthehair) Spicy Six Winter Fanworks Challenge! I had dialogue prompt #22 "Guess we’re the only two without dates, huh?”

pairing: steddie | word count: 10,446 | rated: E | on AO3: hey you really turn me on

Why in the hell did he agree to this? It’s 20 fuckin’ degrees out and he’s outside?? In the snow?? Voluntarily?

If the boys could see him now.. “Who are you and what’ve you done with Eddie?”, “Since when do you do shit outside?”, “All this for Steve fuckin’ Harrington…”.

And that’s the rub, it is because of Steve. Hopeless crush aside, Steve is the reason he’s there. Why they’re all there in the first place.

When Steve got the call, Eddie and the other older teens of their world-saving group were just hanging out; movies, beer, snacks, a little weed, music playing low…all in all, a great kick-back. 

Then the phone rang.

It was relatively late too, 10 maybe?

Steve went to answer it of course, the conversation muffled through the living room and kitchen walls, but after a minute or so he came back. The long phone line stretched across the hall back to the hook in the kitchen.

“When is this again?” Steve says into the receiver, waving towards the sound system. Robin had scrambled up immediately, nearly falling back on her face to turn the volume down.

“Uh huh. And you and Dad won’t be there? Mm hmm.” he nods.

Eddie looked over to Robin first, eyebrow raised. She only shrugged, as does Nancy when he turned the look to her.

“And how many rooms?” Whatever the answer is causes Steve’s brows to shoot up. “Wow, okay, yeah we–” 

Eddie was closest to him, previously starfished out on the carpet, but had sat up and leaned back on his palms when Steve returned, so he could just barely hear the sound of another voice on the other end of the line.

“Yeah of course, that’d be great, we definitely will. Thanks Mom.”

Steve had sounded actually…happy to be talking to his mom. And here Eddie thought the Harringtons were objectively the worst.

“No, they’re going to love it, Mom, I promise.” another pause, “Nope. They’ll all be on their best behavior.” Steve glances down at Eddie, “We all will be.”

He scoffs up at Steve from his spot on the floor. Rude.

Steve only waves him off with a smile, “Yeah, the usual.” he says, “Rob, Nance, Jon, Jon’s friend Argyle–yeah, he’s the one from California, and Eddie.” Steve’s eyes flash down to Eddie again and his stomach twists sharply. Aw fuck, here it comes; the scolding, the yelling, the berating about how Eddie’s no good for him to be associating with, why are you stooping to his level, he’s a murderer, yadda yadda yadda.

“Yeah, he and Wayne are doin’ much better now, I’ll have to tell you about it next time, okay?” 

Uh.

What?

“Yeah, that’d be great if you don’t mind! Yep, Wheeler, Henderson, Sinclair,” He looks again at the other people in the room, they’re still just as puzzled as he is. What do the kids have to do with this? “I’ll talk to Hopper and Joyce, and I’m sure Ms. Mayfield would let Max go. Oh absolutely,”

Steve starts back into the kitchen, and Eddie can hear him all the way back to the hook. “No–Nope, it’s fine, I actually have a couple people over right now so I want to–yeah. Yep. Okay, love you too. Bye mom.”

Eddie looks around at the others; Robin, Nancy, Jonathan, even Argyle, though he’s not looking around wide-eyed at what all just occurred like the others are.

Steve comes back into the living room. “So…” he lets out a long breath, “How do you all feel about skiing?”

-x-X-x-

So yeah. Here they all are, at some ski resort up in Michigan. Boyd Mountain…or Bowie? Something with a ‘B’.

Turns out, Steve’s parents had a four-room cabin rental set aside as a perk for some deal they were trying to barter. It fell through though, and they wouldn’t be back from Colorado themselves until after the reservation would’ve expired so they offered it to Steve and whoever he’d like to invite.

They took care of everything too; got lift passes, boot and ski rentals set aside for each of them, even sent a whole ass passenger van to be dropped off in the Harrington driveway for them to make the drive; A huge 15 passenger one that even with the three extra seats, still barely held all their crap for the long weekend.

All of them piled into the van in the dark on a Friday morning, sleepy-faced and crusty-eyed; Robin as Steve’s co-pilot, and each of the rest of the older teens and the party piling in wherever they could (they’d fight about their seats when they woke up more, Eddie was sure of it).

The first rest stop on the way up went by without incident, but by time they stopped for late breakfast/early lunch at another, everyone was stir crazy. Sandwiches were passed out, gas was gotten, bathroom breaks were taken, and almost as soon as they got back in the van, Robin was snoring.

“Damnit, if I knew she was gonna tank like that I would’ve had someone else sit up here.” Steve had groused. 

“I’ve gotcha big guy, I won’t let you fall asleep.” Eddie said, now seated next to Dustin and El on the first bench behind the driver’s seat.

“Yeah, me either.” Dustin agreed.

He was snoring an hour later, El leaning into him for her own nap.

“That’s cute.” Was the first thing Robin said after waking back up.

All in all, not a bad drive. The worst part was tramping through the snow to the cabin after they’d arrived.

“Goddammit Steve, How am I supposed to get through this week in only my jeans?”

Steve sighs, “Eddie, you have made the same argument ever since my mom called; and every time you did, I told you everything would be here for you.”

He finally gets the door open, shoving it wide for them all and gesturing them in, “Get comfy guys, I’m going to grab the cooler with our groceries.”

“I’ll give you a hand,” Jonathan says, following Steve back out to the van.

The large open main floor has a full kitchen with a raised bar counter and four stools, tall peaked ceilings, a fireplace on one wall with two couches and a rocking chair situated around it, and a sliding glass door to a balcony off the back side of the building overlooking the trees below.

There’s stairs too, a set going up and a set going down, and at least one bathroom here on this floor, off the kitchen.

Eddie wanders into the living room, picks out some pieces of kindling from the bucket on the stone beside the fireplace and a couple logs from the stack nearby, and busies himself with starting the fire while the party pokes around the place.

He glances over his shoulder when he hears the fake leather of the couch cushions squeak together, only to see Argyle has perched himself on the backrest, squashing a cushion beneath his feet.

The fire takes less than no time at all, and once it’s going and he’s re-situated the trifold metal screen back in front of the fire, he sits down beside Argyle’s shins and is immediately entranced by the flames.

Steve and Jonathan return not long after, lugging their things with the cooler hanging between them.

“So how do y’guys want to split up the rooms?” Robin asks aloud, ignoring the yelling the other teens are already doing about the same thing.

“I’m not picky.” Eddie shrugs, standing up to stretch again, deciding he really did not want to be sitting anymore.

“Me either sister, whatever you decide is cool with me.” Argyle agrees. “What’re the rooms like?”

“There’s a master up here!” Max calls from above them, looming over the log railing at the top of the stairs with El.

“We walked right past it, but there’s a room with a queen off the front hall there,” Jonathan says, shuffling his bag against the kitchen bar.

“Hey! Assholes!” Steve yells down the steps, the boys must’ve gone down there. “Go get your shit out of the van and we’ll head over to the main lodge!”

The four thunder up the steps, how any of them can understand any other over the other is beyond him.

“Will,” Nancy calls as he rounds the stairs last, “There are bedrooms down there?”

“Yep!” he grins, “Two rooms with queen beds, and a bathroom.”

“I don’t mind taking one of the queens,” Nancy says, “Robin, wanna share with me?”

Robin starts to splutter, still somehow not convinced that Nancy’s got a thing for her. It’s obvious to him, but he and Steve have both tried to tell her this. To no avail. Even after Jonathan and her had confirmed they’d split and that he was moving back to California with Argyle come spring.

Steve rescues Robin from her spluttering. “It’s only fair that Argyle gets next dibs, since he’s the one that’s offered to cook for us.” he says, lugging the cooler over to the kitchen to unload it.

He’d insisted on picking up groceries for their stay, saying “There’s a restaurant, sure, but that’d get expensive quick and we’ll have a full kitchen so why not?”

“Appreciated my man; y’wanna bunk with me, Jonny?”

Eddie follows Steve, leaning on the bar across from the fridge from him, “So where’s all my snow gear, Stevie?” he asks the back of Steve’s head.

“Eddie, I swear to God.” Steve huffs in return, bending down into the cooler at his feet to fish out a couple of cartons of eggs.

Eddie does not watch how the denim of Steve’s jeans pulls tighter over any part of him, thank you very much.

“Mom called ahead and has everything we might need set aside in the main lodge, we’ll go there first before we hit the slopes.”

“Oh my god, did you really just say that?” Eddie asks as Steve stashes away two jars of jelly, one strawberry, one grape.

“Say what?” Bacon and some packs of lunch meat are next.

“Like, that’s an actual thing that people say? It’s not just in the movies?”

Steve sighs, finishing off the groceries with a couple 12 packs of pop stashed on the bottom shelf. “What is just like the movies?”

“‘Hit the slopes.’? Really?”

“You’re super annoying, you know that, right?” he says, closing the fridge and pushing the lid back onto their cooler.

“Awe, c’mon baby, you don’t mean that.” Eddie coos, slipping around the counter to cup Steve’s face in his hands, “What happened to the man who loves me for my antics, huh?”

“Get off me, dude,” Steve laughs, batting Eddie’s hands away, his cheeks tinged pink.

‘Yes! Success!’ When did he decide he was trying to fluster Steve? Eh, whatever. No harm, right?

 “So, did you guys figure out the sleeping situation?” Steve asks the rest of the group, walking back around the bar.

Eddie follows, leaning back on the counter in his previously vacated spot.

Nancy nods, “Jon and Argyle will take the room on the main floor, us girls will take the two downstairs, you can take the master, and the boys will take the couches.”

The boys return with their bags then, and Mike immediately starts complaining about being relegated to the fold-outs. Eddie also hears Dustin and Lucas trying to talk him down, saying things like “Dude, that means we’ll be close to the fire!”, “We can throw things in it!,” and “We can make s’mores!”.

Steve doesn’t seem to hear them though, otherwise he’d be shutting that shit down. Instead, his face only scrunches in confusion, “What about Eddie?”

Nancy looks surprised for a blink, then disgruntled, like she’s pissed she forgot someone.

“I’ll just crash out here on the floor with these losers, no worries.” he shrugs.

Steve turns toward his voice, a deep crease between his brows. “That’s not fair.”

“I promise I’ll survive Stevie,” Eddie chuckles. At least he’ll be the warmest out here in front of the fireplace. “I’ve slept on worse, believe it or not, I’ll be sleeping like a king compared to then.”

Steve’s brows scrunch almost all the way together, then spring apart and settle into determined lines. “You’ll sleep with me.” he says with a nod, his arms folding across his chest.

A beat passes.

Eddie can’t resist.

He leans close to Steve’s side, “A bit presumptuous, Stevie darling,”

Steve’s face practically glows with the flush that appears in the next beat, mumbling something to himself as he walks to the door and starts to pull on his coat and boots.

Eddie pushes off the counter and follows, obnoxiously holding a hand up to one ear. “What’s that, sweetheart?” he teases, walking to his own tossed-aside boots, “I didn’t quite catch that.”

“We going to the lodge now?” he hears Lucas ask as he passes.

“Finally.” Mike adds, unhelpfully.

Steve huffs, standing up again and leaning close to Eddie’s cupped hand, “As if you hadn’t thought about it, darling.”

Four of the other ten are in their coats and boots and out the door after Steve before Eddie comes back online.

-x-X-x-

So here he is: outside. In the snow. With skis strapped to his feet. All because of Steve and his surprisingly generous parents.

He watches, amused, as Robin stands as still as she possibly can, arms spread wide, while Nancy helps strap her into her skis. As soon as the skis had gotten remotely close to being attached to her, it was discovered that no matter what section of ground they may be standing on, Robin would start to drift away. Sliding down some sort of unseen incline backwards, frontwards, and/or sideways.

Jon and Argyle are already almost to the closest lift, and Eddie watches as they do a weird half-jump onto the bench as it comes up behind them.

The gremlins had scattered after Steve’s ‘be careful’ lecture, telling them all when to be back to the van by, or back to the cabin if they will be coming off the slopes near there, telling them all to be safe and to keep to pairs or more so they can be radioed.

They’d all brought their walkies with them, and Eddie can see where the boys are still huddled together, swapping out their batteries.

He watches them split off soon after, Dustin and Lucas pushing off to where Max and El are waiting at the standing lift to the top of the training hill.

Mike and Will scoot off together in the opposite direction, toward the centermost lift a few dozen yards away.

“Guess we’re the only two without dates, huh?” He says as Steve slides to a stop on his own skis beside him.

He’d meant it jokingly, was probably going to follow it up with some jabs about being Steve’s wingman if he needed (there were already a few ladies he’d seen giving Steve some looks while they waited for their gear in the main lodge), but Steve shrugs and says: “I’ll be your date this weekend, Eds. Wouldn’t want you to feel left out or anything.” 

Eddie whips his head around to look at him, “That’s not–” he starts, but cuts himself off at the look Steve is giving him. His goggles have been haphazardly pushed up his face, trapping a few loose locks of Steve’s hair between them and the roll of his beanie, his cheeks are already bitten red with the cold, and he’s smiling so painfully sincerely under that damn teasing smirk that all Eddie can do is acquiesce.

“You better be the best date here then, Stevie,” Eddie chides, starting off toward the lift Jonathan and Argyle had disappeared up, “I won’t settle for anyone other than the bes–” he pitches forward suddenly, one of his skis sticking to the snow under it more than it should’ve.

Steve catches him, of course, and says “Will I get points taken off as ‘Best Date Ever’ if I make you go on the training hill?”

They do go to the training hill, lovingly called the Bunny Hopper, but he and Robin are thankfully saved from the embarrassment of actually being taught by the volunteers there; Steve and Nancy taking them to the slightly taller ‘big kid’ hill and teaching them there.

Surprising even himself, Eddie picks up on the motions and the feeling of being on skis easily. The whole ‘pizza’ thing about stopping was still iffy but the rest is no problem. Fun, actually.

“That was great, man! You’re a natural!” Steve beams at him, his grin lopsided from the meat of his cheeks being squashed under his goggles.

“I just had a great teacher,” he brushes off the compliment, elbowing Steve playfully.

Steve somehow grins even bigger, and Eddie’s heart stammers.

“You ready to go to the real hill now?” “This isn’t a real hill?”

He’s positive Steve just rolled his eyes under his goggles. “C’mon smartass, let's get in line for the lift.”

Eddie bows him forward, “After you, sweetheart.” 

He follows Steve to the end of the line; thankfully it’s not too long, now that it’s late afternoon and will be getting dark soon. 

Steve seems to notice this as well, lifting his goggles off his face again. “We’ll have to call the gremlins back sooner than I thought. It’ll be dark soon.”

“Stop reading my mind, Stevie.”

Steve looks over at him, squinting hard and pursing his lips (Eddie’s stupid lizard brain has a split second thought of those lips pursed around something). “Ugh! Ew, gross Eddie, what would make you think about that?!”

He feels his face blanche and scrambles to recover. “I was only thinking about our good friend Robin, Steve-o, you saying Robin is gross?” He pitches his voice higher and glances down the line to where he can see Robin and Nancy.

Robin flips her mitten up at him, and he can infer the gesture just fine, thanks.

“Shut up, asshole.” Steve laughs, pushing him out of the line on his skis.

They’re the next to hop up on the moving bench, and Steve’s…everything…seems to seize up as soon as they’re seated and on their way.

“Could you imagine?”

“Hm?” He’s still looking down anxiously, so Eddie scoots just a bit closer, pressing what he hopes is comfortingly into Steve’s side.

“If we could read each other's minds? If the bats biting us both somehow linked us together?”

It works a little; Steve tears his eyes away from the ground as it drops away from them, huffing out a short laugh, “I don’t think I would survive inside your head, it’d be even more chaotic than you already are.”

“As if your head would be any better.”

“Hey, my head is great!”

Eddie grins wickedly, “You get told that a lot, Stevie?”

Steve seems unphased, smirking slowly. “I do, actually. Why? You tryin’ t’see if it’s true?”

His cheeks start to prickle, “You offering, big boy?”

“Maybe I am,” Steve shrugs then leans closer, “Now the real question is if you’re gonna take me up on it.”

Eddie’s head reels in the couple seconds he takes to respond.

Where in the hell is all this coming from? Is it just part of the ‘date’ thing? There’s no fuckin’ way Steve is actually into him, is there? He’s always been flirty, just like Eddie is himself, but there’s no way there are any actual feelings behind it… So there’s no harm in playing along.

“I’m gonna have to now, aren’t I?” he grins back, “Gotta see if it lives up to the hype.”

Steve smirks, his eyes hooded. He’s good at pretending, he’ll give him that.

His eyes glance away, then back to Eddie’s face. The sultry look he’d been hamming up for his sake is gone, just an easy smile remains. At least this sudden flirting Steve’s decided to do isn’t going to ruin their surprisingly solid post-apocalyptic friendship.

“It’s almost time to get off, ready?”

Eddie looks ahead to where the couple on the bench before them are hopping off. They stand up off the lift easily and don’t end up in a heap, but he is starting to feel the anxiety Steve was feeling only minutes ago. How’s he supposed to get out of the way fast enough, isn’t there a drop? That looked way too easy.

“As I’ll ever be,” he gulps.

“Give me your hand.” Steve says, not waiting for a response and snatching up Eddie’s hand in his, “Okay, when I say so, you just gotta stand up. Ready?”

“Stand up, what do you mea—” he feels his legs lift a bit as the ground rises to coast under his skis, and it makes sense.

“Now!”

Wait, no! He wasn’t ready!

He stands just a breath after Steve, but isn’t fast enough, the lift continues up on its path and catches him again, forcing his butt back into the seat.

“Eddie, you gotta–”

He tries again at the same time Steve pulls him forward and he pitches forward, landing with an “Oof–” on top of Steve and forcing the breath from the other man’s lungs.

“Aw fuck, sorry Stevie!” He rolls off of him and out of the path of the upcoming lift chairs. “That went exactly as well as I thought it would.”

Steve wheezes out a breathless laugh, standing back up on his skis with no problem at all. Wait, how did he do that? How’s he supposed to get up with these things on his feet?

“Here,” Steve arranges his skis for him, putting one long side of each onto the snow, “Give me your poles, and push yourself up with your hands. You want to get your feet under you.”

He does as he’s told and walks his weight around on his hands to the fronts of his skis until he’s bent forward at his hips, standing straight out of the bend.

“...Huh.”

“Good job, man!” Steve grins, handing him back his poles, “Getting up on skis can be a bitch and a half; way to catch on quick.”

Eddie grins mischievously, deciding to be a little shit. “I dunno, you’d think my date would like seeing me bent over for him, huh Stevie?”

Steve just rolls his eyes, snapping his goggles back down with a smile, “C’mon, asshole, let’s get out of the way; the run to the right of the lift looked shorter on the map.”

Thankfully, the chair behind them had been empty, but the next one had a full four people on it and it was coming up fast.

“‘Sides,” He says, pushing off toward the top of the run, waiting for Eddie to scoot in next to him at the crest before leaning in and murmuring low into his ear, “I’d rather wait ‘till we’re alone to bend you over properly.”

Steve’s a good 20 feet away by time Eddie comes back to himself enough to follow.

They get about an hour and a half in on the hills, a grand total of six wipeouts under Eddie’s belt, and a couple others under Steve’s, with one successful landing off one of the jumps on the main drag to finish off the day.

“Didja see that?!” Steve yells, pulling down the balaclava he’d unceremoniously added to his getup about an hour ago.

“Hell yes Stevie!” Eddie calls, breathless, still coasting to the bottom of the slope after him. “You landed it!”

“I landed it!” 

Steve holds his arms open as Eddie once again fails to slow himself down properly, and catches him at the bottom in a crushing hug. His cheeks are flushed with adrenaline, bitten with the cold, his eyes bright in the setting sun and smile nearly as beautiful.

Damn he’s pretty.

Courteous as ever, Steve waits until Eddie’s arranged his feet the right way again before letting him go to spin the pack off his back for their assigned walkie.

Steve radios the party, and everyone is packed away in their van a scant ten minutes later. The older teens had already made it back to the cabin, letting themselves in off a run near there, so it was only the similarly flushed and excitement-filled younger teens babbling away in the back seats.

There’s overlapping stories of their own wipeouts (including one Robin took that Max swears was hilarious), Dustin insisting he saw a brown bear through the trees at one point, and all six debating whether or not they’d want to go to the main lodge for the waterpark tomorrow instead of back onto the hills.

They are still debating amongst themselves when they pull into the driveway. “Alright dorks,” Steve calls over the bickering, “Go inside and hang up your shit next to the fireplace so it can dry out.”

Eddie follows the troop into the living room and watches them pile all their outerwear together on the two hooks closest to the stone fireplace, then tear off downstairs where he heard there may have been a Nintendo stashed in one of the bedroom dressers.

Jonathan and Robin start methodically re-arranging the coats and snow pants on the hooks so they’ll dry easier, while Argyle pushes up off one of the couches to start on dinner. 

“C’mon Eds, get comfy,” Steve says, coming up beside him and gesturing to the loveseat directly across from the roaring fire. Eddie can already feel the burn of it across his frigid skin, “I gotta make sure I get you unthawed before I get you into my bed.” Steve murmurs into Eddie’s ear.

And isn’t that a whole new type of torment. They will actually be sleeping in the same bed tonight…the next three nights!

Steve turns back to the kitchen when Eddie drops cross-legged onto the sofa, and the tingling feeling in his cheeks has nothing to do with the fire.

It’s half from Steve’s scarily earnest-sounding flirting, but also about half from the look Robin is giving him while she takes the spot next to Nancy on the other couch.

“What? What’s the look for?”

Robin shrugs, picking up what must’ve been her discarded book from the end table between them (which she’s got the already read half curled backward around its spine, like a heathen), “Nothin’ at all, Eds.”

His face is burning hotter than the fire by the time Steve returns.

He passes them each a mug of cocoa, then flops down on the floor in front of Eddie’s knees. 

“What’s cookin’ good lookin’?” Eddie asks, surprised at the nonchalance he was able to muster up. He reaches forward and tugs on a lock of Steve’s hair without even thinking about it (and ignoring the muffled giggle coming from somewhere to Robin’s left. Oh great, Nancy’s in on his torment too?).

Steve lets out a contented hum, dropping his head back to lie heavily in Eddie’s lap, “Argyle’s whipping up some burgers.”

Eddie leaves his fingers in Steve’s hair, absentmindedly pulling them through a few tangles left behind by his hat.

Steve’s head lolls around in Eddie’s lap with the motions of his fingers for a whole thirty seconds before he snaps it back up, “Oh–ugh–wait, don’t do that,” Eddie pulls his hand away immediately, an apology on his tongue, but Steve continues, standing up and saying, “I’m all gross and sweaty, man, at least let me take a shower first. Be right back.” Steve grins, and heads upstairs to the master bedroom.

Eddie blinks into the space left behind by Steve’s departure, then Nancy is standing as well; “That’s a good idea,” she says, unfolding from her spot at Robin’s side and walking around the back of the couch, “I’ll be back up soon.” She gives Robin’s shoulder a squeeze, and heads downstairs.

Not a full five seconds pass before Robin says, “So...Steve’s super into you.”

Eddie balks at her, his eyes darting around the room automatically. Jon’s helping Argyle chop up toppings for their burgers, the two of them paying less than zero attention to him or Robin, there’s a yell from downstairs followed by laughter, the sound of a shower starting from the open balcony to the upstairs bedroom..

“You can’t just say shit like that, Birdie.” he whispers, his tone harried.

“What, the truth?”

“He is not into me.”

She nods in sarcastic understanding, “Ah, so you’re into him.”

“No I’m—” she levels him with a look. He sighs, glancing around at the no one around them, “Okay fine, yes, I am super into him. But he is not into me.”

Robin shrugs, going back to her book. “You don’t have to believe me, but I think he is. And I think you should make a move.”

“Make a mo—He’s straight as fuck, Robin!”

She gives him a glance, her brow furrowing for a split second then smoothing out. “Did he tell you that?”

“He didn’t have to.” he says, sinking back against the cushions.

She doesn’t say anything else, and he goes back to staring at the fire.

“If you make a move on Steve, I’ll finally make a move on Nancy.” she says a handful of minutes later.

He processes that slowly, takes a deep breath, then shoves his hand towards her without looking over.

She takes it, giving it one hard shake.

As soon as he takes his hand back, Argyle lopes into view with a plate in his hand, “Food’s ready my dudes.” He says, sinking into the armchair closest to the glass balcony door.

Robin snaps her book shut and sets it down on the little end table between them (the cover curls back up immediately, the poor thing), standing up and heading into the kitchen. 

Eddie has just let his feet fall to the floor and has scooted to the edge of his seat to stand up himself, when Argyle yells out “Nice tits!”

“Whose tits are out?” Eddie asks, following his gaze automatically. 

Argyle goes back to his plate. “Steve’s.” 

Uh…Yeah…He can see that for himself now.

Steve is standing at the railing of the upper floor in nothing but a towel. One hand is flipping Argyle off, and the other is preoccupied with scrubbing a second towel over his damp hair.

The towel wrapped around him is slung low on his hips, and Eddie’s eyes start to roam on their own.

Steve’s stomach is solid yet soft-looking with all its faded pink scars, and it and his chest are still as hairy as Eddie remembers; strong shoulders, solid jaw, dusty lips that pull up into a smirk, all of him is so fucking perfect.

“Hurry it up, dingus, food’s ready!” Robin calls, startling Eddie out of his gawking.

His face goes hot with embarrassment, chancing another glance up to Steve and hoping he didn’t get caught…

Steve winks at him, then turns out of sight, disappearing just as his hand comes down to grab the towel twisted around him.

His face burns, and doesn’t stop burning until long after Steve returns from upstairs.

He makes up a burger for himself, and once each of them have theirs, they call the rest of the hoard upstairs. The six teens all but destroy the remaining burgers, two whole bags of chips, and would have gulped down at least one whole 12 pack of Coke if Nancy hadn’t relegated them to one can each.

Steve’s about to herd them back downstairs when El pipes up and says that they’ve decided they want to go to the waterpark in the main lodge tonight instead of tomorrow. Surprisingly, Steve agrees to drive them over there on the condition “you shitheads are careful, and are ready to go as soon as the pools close at midnight. Got it?”

“Agreed.” they say in unison, splitting off in all directions to grab their swim stuff.

“I’m surprised at you, Stevie, letting them go off on their own.”

He just shrugs, “There’s lifeguards.”

The troops are back in the living room within ten minutes, and in their boots and out the door in 12. 

Once they’re out the door, Robin goes back to her book, Jon and Argyle step out onto the balcony to smoke, and Eddie follows Nancy into the kitchen without even thinking about it, grabbing up the hand towel hanging from the oven door and placing himself to her right.

“Thanks,” she says, handing him the first wet plate from the mess of suds in the sink.

They work in silence for a few minutes, listening to the crackling of the fire, the clanging of silverware in the sink, the muffled voices of the two on the porch.

“Nancy?”

“Yeah, Eddie?”

“If I–If Ste–” he wasn’t sure how to ask this, how to even approach the topic, “Robin said—”

“He’d be lucky to have you Eddie, and you him.” She says, not looking up from the sink.

“How’d you–?”

“Robin tends to ramble when she's nervous, have you noticed?”

He stares down at her, dumbfounded. Her lips quirk into a smile. “She’s like that around me a lot, actually.”

“I’ve noticed.”

They fall back into silence again; on the last plate, she says, “Robin’s already had this conversation with Steve about me, so I only assume it’s fair that you have it with me about him.” She passes the last plate to him and pulls the drain from the water. 

“Just remember Eddie,” She pauses and turns to face him, one hip cocked over to lean on the edge of the counter. “If you’re gonna go for it..Steve loves with all of him at once. Don’t take it for granted.”

He sets the dried plate onto the rack beside the sink as she passes behind him, patting him on the shoulder as she does.

He wants to take a moment to process all that, but just his luck, Steve returns then, passing in behind him where Nancy just left to grab up a six-pack.

Steve hands one to Eddie as he leaves, “You okay, Eds?”

“I’m good, thanks Stevie.” he says, fixing his face into an easy smile.

The six of them lounge around the rest of the evening, slowly sipping on their drinks while they play cards in front of the fire, but there’s a catch: Eddie’s going absolutely insane.

Steve’s touching him everywhere. His thigh and foot are sitting comfortably under Eddie’s own thigh where it’s crossed above it, his arm is draped across the back of the couch behind Eddie’s shoulders and methodically twirling long lengths of dark hair between his fingers.

Eddie’s been doing his damndest to ignore it, and succeeds, actually, for short periods of time while they are playing Uno, but every time Steve leans back from dropping his next card on the coffee table, he casually puts his arm back where it was, and grabs up a new lock of Eddie’s hair to torture him with.

And each time he does, Robin gives him the same knowing look.

It’s. Agony.

He wants to relax, wants to scream, he wants to swing his leg over Steve’s lap and press him into the cushions with heated kisses, he wants to haul the other man upstairs and throw him onto the bed…be thrown onto the bed.

Finally, Nancy calls it, breaking their little bubble to stand into a long stretch around nine. Steve hops up off the couch after Robin to gather up all the rest of the cans, and Eddie helps Jon and Argyle pull apart the couches enough to fold out the beds for when the goblins come back.

He escapes upstairs after a short goodnight to the two, Robin and Steve are still bickering in hushed tones about something in the kitchen, and pulls out his bag. He’s fishing out a new pair of boxers when Steve finally gets upstairs, shutting the room’s double doors behind him and heading into the ensuite.

He left the door open in his wake, so Eddie grabs up the rest of his things and follows. He drops his pile of stuff onto the closed lid of the toilet and shucks his shirt unceremoniously, tossing it to the floor.

The glass door of the huge half-walled stone shower squeaks softly on its hinges when he opens it to start the water, squeaking again when it swings closed. He reaches up to a shelf above the toilet to pull down one of the provided towels, turning to hang it on the hook beside the shower.

It’s while he’s turning back to the hook that he chances a look at Steve.

Steve, frozen at the sink with his toothbrush hanging listlessly in the air and a glob of foamy toothpaste slowly drooping off his lip, is staring. 

Unabashedly.

At Eddie’s bare torso.

Eddie caught and cataloged this in the split second it took Steve to realize Eddie was staring back, but it was enough. 

The flirting had been one thing, a natural, goofy continuation of their friendship that led to their ‘date’ today, the soft touches and hair-playing had been another, something Eddie could explain away just as easily. Steve is a touchy guy once you get close to him, and had been with Eddie since they’d gotten closer after spring break.

But this?

He’s looking at him with the same wide-eyed look Eddie’d given him earlier: gobsmacked and slightly hungry.

Steve turns away quickly, spitting into the sink and mumbling something under his breath while he finishes rinsing out his mouth. 

Eddie snorts, shaking his head and finally hanging up his towel.

“Oh, what, now you’re gonna be all shy?” he grouses, twisting around to scowl at the back of Steve’s head. Steve looks over his shoulder to glare at him in return, his cheeks glowing red. “Really? The guy who was joking about bending me over only a couple hours ago? The same guy who was winking at me in nothing but a towel earlier?”

Steve flushes darker, and it irritates him to no end. “Honestly Steve?” Eddie starts, turning back to the shower and pretending to fix how his towel is hanging, “If you’re into me, just do something about it. Otherwise, just…back off, okay? I’m super into you but I can be a big boy about it because honestly, I’d rather keep you around as a friend if nothing else and—”

His rambling is cut off by the click of the bathroom door closing.

Eddie lets out a long breath, “Yeah.. that’s about what I expected.” Robin was wrong.

He takes a moment to collect himself, but just as he pops open the button on his jeans, Steve’s voice breaks through the sound of rushing water.

“Were you being serious?”

“Jesus H. Christ!” Eddie yelps, spinning around to face the man who’s still very much in the bathroom with him. “What the fuck, Steve?”

“Were you?” he asks, pushing off from where he’d been leaning back on the door.

“...About what?”

“About how you’re ‘super into’ me?” he grins.

Eddie crosses his arms across his chest defensively, “You don’t get to be an ass about it, Steve.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Steve says softly, reaching out to unfold Eddie’s arms. His fingers follow the length of them and grasp Eddie’s in his, “I wasn’t trying to be, promise; I’m just surprised is all.”

“Surprised?”

“Well yeah,” he shrugs, “The super hot metalhead you’ve been mooning after since March confesses he thinks you’re also super hot? That’s kinda hard to believe.”

He can feel Steve’s shirt brushing faintly against his stomach now. “I never said you were super hot.” he manages to say.

Steve catches his eyes, smirking at him with an obnoxious head tilt, “Didja have to?”

“Shut up..” Eddie snorts out a laugh and pushes lightly at Steve’s chest; he’s laughing too. “Okay, okay, now leave me alone so I can shower.” he says, pushing a bit harder this time. “I’ll be out soon and you can do with me what you wish.”

Steve’s leaning his weight against him, fighting going back to the bedroom, “Or…”

“Or?” Damn, he’s heavy what the fuck!

“I could, maybe, if you want..Icouldgetinwithyou.”

Eddie stops pushing.

Steve scratches at the back of his head in embarrassment, “I mean, I’ve been wanting to get you naked for months now and there’s a perfectly good reason right there, and I think it’d be nice to shower, y’know…together.. and wow, I am being super awkward, actually..so I’m just gonna…yeah.”

Steve gestures over his shoulder toward the bedroom but he doesn’t even move to turn before Eddie is pulling him back the other way.

He lets him go a couple steps away from the glass shower door, “Better get t’stripping big boy, can’t shower very well with clothes on, can you?” he winks, then faces away from Steve to finally shed his jeans (and for his own sanity).

Eddie can hear the split second it takes for Steve to start pulling off his clothes, taking another second for himself before pushing his jeans and boxers off his hips.

He had been trying to be in the shower under the spray before Steve was even out of his clothes, but one of his legs got caught, then he had to pause further to pull off the stubborn sock that decided not to come off with his jeans.

Which of course led to him nearly toppling over.

He caught himself on the wall, but not before Steve’s hands caught him around the waist too. “Careful, Eds.”

Oh fuck. Steve’s hands should not feel that good against his skin..also, dammit! He was trying to be all suave and cool by getting in under the water before Steve could see him fully, and now his bare fuckin’ ass is out for all to see…

Eddie laughs to himself.

“What?”

“Nothin’, I just thought I’d be…better? At this?”

“At what?”

“Stupid fuckin’—” Eddie finally gets his sock off, then sighs, “I dunno, being sexy, or mysterious I guess? Coy maybe?” 

“Why would you need to be any of that?”

Eddie shrugs, stepping out of Steve’s hold and into the shower and under the spray, staying faced away from the door while Steve follows.

“Are you gonna look at me?” he asks, voice devoid of anything but concern.

Taking a breath, Eddie steels himself and turns to face Steve in the large shower.

Steve’s expression is calm, open, but skews slightly into concern under Eddie’s gaze.

The long lean lines of his torso are just the same as the other two times he’s seen them, but they’re close now, and in good lighting too; Eddie can see a few other scars other than the ones from the bats, others he’s gotten over the years protecting the heard of goblins they’ve been co-parenting since last September.

He watches rogue droplets of water slough down the now-damp hairs on his arms, his legs, his chest, the ones that follow the path of darkening hairs down his stomach to his—

Steve steps closer, sharing the warm, wide spray of the shower with him.

He lifts his hand and brushes the damp hair back from the scar that marrs Eddie’s face and neck, stepping forward fully and cupping the puckered flesh in his palm when the hair settles wetly behind his shoulder

Eddie feels time stop for a brief moment. 

All of Steve is pressed into him and they line up perfectly, like they were made to share the same space. Steve’s other hand slides onto Eddie’s hip and it tugs him closer. Steve's half-hard length slots into place beside Eddie’s own, into the crevice where his crotch meets thigh.

Eddie shudders a breath at the feeling, opening his eyes to study the planes of Steve’s face and the way he is seemingly drooping forward into Eddie’s orbit. 

Steve’s smiling softly at him, the soft spray of water reflecting off their chests is misting up onto his cheek and lashes. His eyes are so much more green than he’d thought before, besides how little of the color he can see around the much larger pupil.

“Gorgeous.” Steve says, his voice is breathy and low, full of admiration, of longing…and it takes Eddie out of his reverie.

“Wha?” He says, eloquent as ever.

“You’re gorgeous, Eddie.”

Then, Steve’s lips are on his, tentative and sweet; soft, but becoming heady fast. 

The next time their lips meet, it’s punctuated with a short huff of air from Steve’s lungs when Eddie spins them, pressing Steve into the stone wall beside the shower knobs. He parts his lips to mumble out an apology, but Steve’s tongue decides to fill the space instead.

The hand Steve had on Eddie’s jaw snakes down to grab hold of his other hip and pulls him even closer, using the both of them to roll Eddie’s hips into his.

Their tongues slide languidly against the other, the fast pace they’d been building into falling off in exchange for slow, sanguine kisses instead.

Eddie lets out a shaky breath when they do part, blinking across the short distance between them at Steve’s kiss-bitten lips for only a second before letting his eyes fall shut with the exhale.

“Steve…is this—Is this real?”

Steve breathes out a shaky laugh of his own, “Why wouldn’t it be real, Eddie?” He asks, gently tracing the length of Eddie’s nose with his.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve had this exact dream before; are you sure I didn’t snap my neck during one of those falls earlier?”

The younger man laughs fully this time, and Eddie relishes in the slippery feeling of the wet skin of Steve’s stomach rippling against his own. He can’t help but grin in response to both the laughter and the funny feeling, his eyes opening without a second thought.

Steve looks like he’s floating, his face soft and dripping with a bright beaming smile..

“Do you need me to pinch you?” Steve asks, finally coming down from his brief fit of laughter.

“I don’t know if I want to find out this isn’t real.” Eddie grins in return.

One of Steve’s large hands leaves his hip then, snaking around to pinch the underside of Eddie’s asscheek.

He sucks in a short hiss of pain and lets out a soft whimper of something else (holy shit, when did that become a thing??) in the same breath.

“Okay…” he gulps down a mouthful of nothing, “Not a dream.”

“Not a dream..” Steve repeats. 

There’s a beat, two full breaths of more nothing before Steve spins them around and pushes Eddie back into the cold stone instead, his arm wrapped around him and up to cup the back of his skull protectively against the tile.

He presses a thick thigh between Eddie’s and does three things almost simultaneously.

The first, a second before the other two: He locks his heavy-lidded gaze on Eddie’s; two and three: presses the thigh between Eddie’s legs up, and pulls the hand at the back of his skull down along with a fistful of dark curls.

“Aahhh—ohhh fuck, Steve…” The sting from his scalp pulls a moan from his exposed throat, and Eddie scrambles to grab hold of something.

His nails dig into the slick skin of Steve’s back automatically, and he opens his mouth to apologize the same moment Steve latches onto his neck with a low groan of his own.

The hand not tangled in Eddie’s hair is starting to pull him down in waves against Steve’s thigh and hips, both of them hissing in pleasure with each pass of the other’s length against theirs.

“Mmmm, Eddie..” Steve moans, unlatching from the bruise he’s sure to have left on Eddie’s throat to lave his tongue and lips against his jaw instead. “Baby, you feel so good against me.”

“AAaahh—mmm..”

“Ooh, and you sound so sweet..” His lips trail down from his jaw back to the definitely sore spot on his neck, one that he prods lightly with the tip of his tongue before continuing on to nip at the taught skin of his collarbone, kiss lightly over the skin of his scarred pec, finally landing tongue first onto Eddie’s remaining nipple. 

The reaction to this is immediate; Eddie arches his chest further into Steve’s mouth. Steve, the sonofabitch he is, suctions his lips away from Eddie’s flushed skin in response.

“Hhnng—what the actual fuck, Steve?” Eddie glares best he can though the panting, “Get that mouth back over here.”

Miraculously, Steve obliges, sliding forward into a saccharine kiss and pulling Eddie away from

the wall and back under the spray of water.

“C’mon Eds, tilt your head back before the hot water runs out.”

Eddie just gapes at him, at his dick, both their dicks, still standing at attention, back up to his face.

Steve just purses his lips together as if holding back a grin and tugs Eddie’s head back by his hair again, soaking the strands through under the water.

He lets Steve turn him this way and that, reveling in the feeling of the other man’s hands in his hair, slick with soap on his skin, the gentle nudges and pulls relaxing him further into this weird world where Steve’s totally into him and also they’re naked in the shower together.

Finally, when Steve tilts his head back for the final time to rinse the conditioner out of his hair, Eddie decides to be a little shit, pushing his hips forward to clash their (still half-hard) dicks together.

“What are you—really? A sword fight?”

Eddie lets out a long cackle, “What? You knew what you were getting into with me, didn’t’cha Stevie?”

Doubt crashes into Eddie’s chest the instant the words escape his mouth.

He did, didn’t he? He likes him for his antics right? Oh fuck…How long would it take for Steve to get sick of his shit?

Despite Eddie’s near-crushing doubts, Steve smiles and says, “That I did.” easy as breathing, then pulls Eddie flush against him in another heated kiss.

Steve walks him backward after a moment, and Eddie drops his hands behind him to feel for the inevitable press of cold stone on his back, shuddering when it finally makes contact.

His gasp from the cold tile only seems to egg the other man on, hunching down to grip him around the backs of his thighs.

Eddie’s legs lock around Steve’s waist in panic, but pleasure shoots through him with the motion too, the horny thrill of being picked up so effortlessly along with the pressure of Steve’s stomach against the underside of his dick.

“Mmph—Steve holy shit,” he’s only just managed to thread the fingers on one hand into those sleek brown locks when he has to stifle down a long groan with a bite to his knuckle. “Hnngh–Steve, Steve, you gotta—oh fuck..”

The muscles of Steve’s stomach bunch under him as he grinds up in slow, torturous rolls..

“Oh, fuck—” the words spill out of his mouth, loud and long; his palm snaps up to hold them in as Steve pushes his shoulders into the tile behind him and leans back, leaving Eddie’s body balanced between strong thighs and shower wall.

The tile hits hard on the back of his skull when Steve wraps one of those hands of his around both their lengths. Eddie manages to look down, only to knock his head back again at the sight. 

Even with the added height of being on top of Steve’s thighs, their heads are exactly level, disappearing over and over again into the water-warmed skin of Steve’s fist.

Steve hunches forward again, pressing kisses into Eddie’s sternum. “Gorgeous.” 

“Steve...” he whispers in return, grinding as much as he can against the length slotted along his.

Again, too soon, Steve is pulling away, releasing his grip on them both.

“What’s wrong?” Eddie asks, already moving to drop his legs back to the floor. 

Steve stops him, hoisting his legs back around him and lifting him off the wall. “I’m taking you up on your offer.” He says, twisting off the now-cold stream of water and carefully stepping over the lip of the doorway through the glass door.

“My offer?”

“You said that after your shower, you’d come back out here to the bedroom and I could have my way with you.”

A half whine, half moan curls out of Eddie’s throat to his utter embarrassment.

“D’ya like that idea, sweetheart?” Steve says, grinning mischievously. 

Eddie manages to scowl at him as they leave the steamy bathroom, and is dropped down onto the mattress soon after. 

“Aw shit!”

“What? What happened?”

It’s cold as shit, that’s what.” The air-cooled temperature of the covers against his skin has him breaking out in goosebumps.

Steve winces, “Sorry, I didn’t think about that.”

What was calm and collected confidence flickers off his face, and Eddie can’t have that. “Jus’ come over here and warm me up, big bo–wait,” He sits up and stops Steve when only one of his knees has made it onto the bed. “Lemme look at you.” 

He looks down at Steve, and yep. Big Boy is very accurate. He’d felt it against him already, Steve’s too-gorgeous-to-be-real dick; he’s longer for sure, cut and curved up like something out of a wet dream. 

“Oh, definitely big boy,” Eddie grins, looking up at Steve’s somewhat embarrassed expression.

“It’s nothing special.” he shrugs, his cheeks heating up as he climbs up Eddie’s damp body. He lowers himself down lay between his legs, his dick slotting itself beside Eddie’s once again.

He hunches over to kiss lightly up the scars on Eddie’s left side, lips brushing along the healed edge of the biggest one. It tickles, then it doesn’t, then does, then doesn’t, his lips pressing halfway onto skin and halfway onto puckered pink flesh.

“Steve..”

“Yeah baby?” he responds after a few more kisses.

“You’re giving me more goosebumps.” Eddie says, somewhat breathless.

Another kiss, “Mmmm.. You’re welcome.”

That shocks a laugh out of him, “You’re such a dork.”

Steve takes one of Eddie’s hands where it lays on the mattress, lacing their fingers together and pressing them back into the mattress beside his head.

“Says you.” he affirms, locking those ridiculous hazel eyes on his.

Eddie’s about to crack off another one liner, say something to…all that, but it’s completely erased from his mind when Steve ducks his head down to find his nipple again.

“Oh fuckin–nnng..” his hips buck up hard into Steve’s, who presses down into him in return.

He can feel it when Steve grins against his skin. “Shut up, asshole, that fee–ee–els so good.”

“Hmm, tell me about it, baby.” He’s grinding down slowly now, adding to the exponentially increasing Steve-addled brain fog he’s currently experiencing.

“Ahhh—I want to but–”

“But what?” Steve’s breath over the spit-slick spot on his chest sends a chill through him. 

“Oh fuck–If any of them hear us, we’re never going to hear the end of it.” he tries to warn around another stifled moan.

The Menace is undeterred, swirling his tongue around the little nub open-mouthed and hot once more before moving upwards, trailing his lips up Eddie’s breastbone until he’s sucking kisses into his throat once again. He continues up along the length of his neck until he reaches his ear, “Then you’d better keep it down, huh?”

Well that didn’t help. He lets out a long moan in response, clamping a hand over his mouth way too late.

“You sound so good though,” Steve says, continuing his slow grinding, “I can’t wait to get you alone so I can fuck you properly.”

That pulls another moan from behind Eddie’s palm. “Jesus H. Christ,” Eddie bucks his hips up as much as he can, but Steve's palms move down to hold him in place.

“Can’t have that now, can we?” Steve chides, trailing his lips down his stomach as he slides back to the edge of the bed, his eyes locked on Eddie’s.

“Wh–Why not?”

“Because I’d prefer,” a kiss above his belly button, “to choke,” a kiss below, “on my own accord.”, then swallows Eddie down in one go.

“Oh fffuuck—”

Steve hums in agreement around Eddie’s dick and the vibrations course up his spine to rattle around in his brain.

“Oh shit, Stevie, that feels so fuckin’ good.” He breathes, twisting his fingers into Steve’s hair.

In response, Steve starts to bob his head, swirling his tongue around Eddie’s on the upstroke, and sucking with fervor on the down.

“Steve, sweetheart–fuck–if you keep going I’m gonna—haah—”

“And what if I want you to?”

“And what if I want to to-together?”

Steve releases him with a wet pop, kissing his way back up to Eddie’s lips, humming in satisfaction when he reaches them, like kissing Eddie is the best part of all this.

And doesn’t that make his head spin.

“All you’d have to do is ask.”

Eddie pulls Steve back to his lips and bucks up into him again. “That’s me asking.”

Steve grins down at him and re-starts his slow, tortuous pace.

He’s rock hard against Eddie’s thigh, and this is getting fuckin’ ridiculous.

“Alright, you know what,” Eddie pushes his hips up hard and flips them over, straddling Steve’s thighs in no time at all.

“Holy shit—“ Steve blinks up at him in astonishment, like he’s surprised that he’s been flipped so easily.

 Eddie grinds down onto Steve, “You don’t get to tease me like that, big boy.”

“Is that so?” He chuckles, then groans when Eddie wraps his hand around their lengths. His hands grip onto Eddie’s thighs, squeezing tight to match the hold on them.

Eddie fucks forward into his fist, pulling his hand down to meet each thrust and watching as Steve’s head drops back onto the mattress.

He lets out a long groan. “Eddie…”

“Yeah, Stevie?”

Eddie runs his fingers over both their heads, adding to the slight slip of pre with a well aimed glob of spit that makes Steve hum out a short breathy moan as it makes contact with his head.

More noises of appreciation are pulled from the man under him as he rubs the pad of his thumb through the mess and under the head of Steve’s cock in small circles.

“Mmhm oh fuck..”

“You like that?”

“Mmhmm,” he nods dazedly “Keep moving though, feels so good, Eds.”

“You got it, sweetheart.” Eddie grins, wrapping his palm around them again and pushes forward into his fist.

Steve’s head drops back onto the pillow beneath him, “Just like that Eddie, fuck.” 

He gives them a few more strokes, then Steve’s hands start to move; his warm palms skirt along the wiry hair on his legs, one traveling around to grab onto Eddie’s horribly non-existent ass, and the other comes up to his remaining nipple, pinching it between two digits.

That did it. The hot coil of pleasure already broiling in his stomach twists even tighter. “Ahh—Stevie..I’m so close, Jesus Christ…”

“Me too..”

“Yeah? Well c’mon sweetheart, give it to me.”

A scant two passes of his hand later, Steve shoots hot across his stomach, and Eddie follows a half stroke later. 

He sinks down to the bed against Steve’s heaving ribs, tucking his shoulder under the other man’s arm.

After a few more breaths, Steve pulls Eddie into him and presses his lips to Eddie’s still-damp forehead.

“Ew gross, don’t do that, I’m all sweaty.”

“Don't care.” Steve mumbles softly into his hairline.

In return, Eddie wipes his soiled hand off on Steve’s stomach.

“Ew! Gross!” Steve laughs, shoving Eddie away with no actual intent behind it.

A few minutes later, Steve breaks the comfortable silence. “So,”

The word sinks heavily into Eddie’s gut. “So?”

When Steve doesn’t continue, Eddie turns his head to find Steve gazing at him with soft eyes, and even softer smile.

It morphs into a teasing smirk. “Did it live up to the hype?”

—--

One snooze and another heated shower later, Eddie crawls back into their bed and gets comfy while he listens to Steve pull his clothes back on to go down to the main lodge for the hellions.

He hears a short shuf when Steve’s leg skirts around the end of the bed. “I’ll be back in 15,” he says, kissing the damp hairs on Eddie’s temple. “Go to sleep, Eds.”

“Hmmm…” he hums in return, cozy as ever, and is out as soon as the door clicks shut.

Too soon, the sounds of the shitheads scrambling into the house interrupts his dozing, the door to the bedroom squeaking open not long after.

“Eds? You awake?”

Instead of answering, Eddie simply opens his arms.

He listens to Steve strip off his clothes, beckoning the man forward again when he feels the end of the mattress sink under the other man’s weight. 

“I’m comin’, I’m comin’, hold your horses.”

“My horses have been patient enough.” Eddie grumbles as Steve finally shuffles between the sheets and into his waiting arms.

-x-X-x-

“Dude! What the hell happened to your neck?! Did you get attacked by a vampire?”

“Henderson, you are way too loud for how early it is.”

“It’s 10 am, Eddie.”

“Exactly.” the barstool creaks as he climbs onto it, gratefully accepting the plate of eggs and bacon Argyle passes him.

“Leave him alone, guys.” Steve says, coming up behind Eddie on his stool and kissing his cheek as he passes into the kitchen with his empty plate.

There’s three whole seconds of silence before the younger teens burst out into a cacophony of various outbursts.

“Aw, what? Eddie! Steve’s way too lame for you to be dating!”

“Steve, did you fuck my DM?!”

“I fuckin’ knew it. I told you they’d get together, didn’t I? Dustin, you owe me 10 bucks.”

“I don’t owe you shit, Maxine.”

“Holy shit, congrats guys.” Lucas is his new favorite… Will and El too, nodding along to Sinclair’s assessment.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough; All those heading back to the waterpark better be ready to go in T-minus three minutes otherwise I’m leavin’ without you.” Steve calls out over the noise.

The complaints follow him out of the kitchen and into the tiny laundry room off the entryway.

“Why don’t you guys get yelled at?” Eddie grumbles, poking up a forkful of egg.

Robin snorts a laugh, “Because none of us are sleeping with the babysitter.”

okay, some notes:

steve's mom is a lawyer in this canon and she's the one who paid for eddie's legal counsel/helped with clearing his name after s4

wha?? steve harrington has good parents?? insanity

"canon" hawkins is about an hour outside of indianapolis so i used shelbyville, indiana as my base and from there to boyne mountain is about a 7 hour drive. if they left at 6 am from hawkins, they'd get to the resort around 1 or 2 and have a good couple hours to ski before it gets dark again at 6 (daylight hours in the midwest during winter are a bitch.)

i did way too much research into the ski resort i based this at, only to realize that neither the cabin itself OR the waterpark were there in the 80s. so...let's all just pretend, okay?

the map above is a trail map of the resort from 1985

when i asked my husband what i should add to 'my most recent blorbos' he said 'nice tits!' so that's why that line lmao

who'da thought this'd go from skiing to shower sex? cause i didn't

i got stuck on the smut part of this for way too long and i am so glad i am a) done with it and b) that it actually turned out relatively coherent.

on that note though, i have been looking at this damn fic for so so long that i don't know if it's actually good or what. 'cause to me, it's complete garbled garbage

the title of this is from 'Object of My Desire' by Starpoint

lex i am so sorry this is late ilysm 🫶

[spellbooksandcricketbats]

Thinking about why DBD managed to hit me so hard in the Older Queer feelings place.

I went to high school from 2002-2006 and it fucking sucked. For reference, YouTube wasn't founded until 2006, and this was before smartphones and social media and thus easier access to ~*~socially transgressive~*~ material.

The only queer characters I remember seeing on TV while growing up were punchlines (Will & Grace) or grimdark suffering and tragedy (Queer as Folk, The L Word, Nip/Tuck). The biggest slur hurled at us was gay ("Dude, that's so fuckin gay, don't be such a pussy!"). I never actually came out of the closet in high school, but I was still bullied for being perceived as queer because I dressed goth and, at the time, goth was still enough of a subculture to get mashed in with 'everything else society considers fucked up.' I knew two 'out' queer kids in high school, both gay cis boys who leaned effeminate, and dear god they were not treated kindly. Matthew Shepard's brutal torture and murder was still fresh in our collective memory. I also made the classic mistake of falling in love with one of my oldest, and straightest, girl friends. 🙃

And this was near the California Bay Area, traditionally considered one of the most queer-friendly regions!

So anyway, fast-forward to today, and here's Edwin, being unabashedly effeminate in all the ways that I learned to associate with getting a fast fuckin beatdown, and he's...treated with respect, both by other characters and ALSO the broader narrative. He's the recipient of multiple different kinds of love and attraction. None of his flaws have anything to do with being effeminate. And even the surface-level dynamic of Charles being his self-proclaimed protector has nothing to do with Edwin's own abilities -- that he is, in fact, able to endure in ways that no other character has been shown capable of yet, and again, not for any reasons that have to do with the narrative itself punishing Edwin for daring to be gay.

And then: the confession in Hell. When I eventually confessed to my best friend, she hemmed and hawed and put me off without a concrete answer, only that she was happy with her current boyfriend. Fair enough! But then she strung me along for a couple of years until I finally pushed for an answer on whether or not there was any hope, and only then did she said no, she's straight. In retrospect, both of us could have handled it better than we did; we haven't spoken since.

So when Edwin confessed, I found myself getting tense, bracing myself for the inevitable brush-off and awkwardness, which is a common reaction IRL, just...not the fictional wish-fulfillment one from a viewer, y'know? Except that's not what happened! It's not that Charles didn't give Edwin a hard 'no' (no one is ever, ever obligated to return affection), it's that Charles gave Edwin an HONEST one, AND it was kind, and there wasn't a sense that their friendship had lost any trust or anything!

And I'll be honest, that made my cracked, stoic heart cry just a little bit and healed something from my late teen/young adult self.