#pre-teen-summer ask

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the Third Annual Spicy Six Fanworks Challenge hosted by @thefreakandthehair.

Sometimes Dreams Change

Prompt: "There’s no rule against just looking!" | Word Count: 4930 | Rating: T | CW: Language, Lingering Upside Down Trauma, Mentions of Therapy | Tags: Future Fic, Thanksgiving, Old Friends, Reconnecting, Friends to Lovers, Personal Growth, Found Family, Non-Famous Corroded Coffin, Platonic Stobin, Good Uncle Wayne Munson

Also right here on ao3.

"You're staring," Wayne says.

"What?" Eddie asks, but he's still focusing on the action happening across the room. Steve's carving the turkey at the kitchen counter, Robin flitting around, giving what Eddie is sure is unnecessary, and nearly certainly unhelpful, feedback.

"You're staring," Wayne repeats, nudging Eddie in the ribs.

Eddie jerks his head, gaze changing directions.

"There's no rule against just looking!" Eddie snaps, and Wayne just keeps staring at him, unimpressed.

This is stupid. 

Steve Harrington ran into them at the Big Buy, invited them to Thanksgiving dinner, and now Eddie is looking at his handsome ass in a pair of very well tailored khakis and a dark teal sweater, carving a fucking turkey that he cooked himself. This shouldn't work for Eddie, but it is.

He's matured. He's a goddamn man. He looks it, sounds it, and by this house, lives it.

The house is his now, his parents moving onwards and upwards, apparently. Leaving Hawkins for good. Lots of people did, though, after that spring of '86. Eddie being one of the first out the door. But looking around, Steve has remodeled this house into a home, something that looks warm and lived in, unlike it did back when Steve was a teen. It clearly has the fingerprints of Steve and Robin all over it, and it's for the better.

In a world where Eddie is still living out of his duffel bag, and spending his nights in crowded smoky bars, Steve has gone and become a real grown up. Who'd have thought? 

When Eddie thinks of Steve, of Robin, they are still frozen as they were that summer they all spent together healing. 

But that's not the truth of it, not anymore. No, now Steve's carving a turkey. Eddie's not sure he'd even be trusted with a paring knife.

He isn't even sure of the last time he's had an actual turkey for Thanksgiving that didn't come pre-sliced on a sandwich from a gas station. He's definitely never cooked one.

Gareth and Mama Jones are at the table, chit-chatting, and it's just the six of them. Apparently, Robin had demanded a turkey, and the only one they had left was too big for two people, so the invite to Eddie and Wayne ended up being extended to Gareth and his mom, too. 

And here they are. A hodgepodge of pairings that didn't really have anywhere else to be for the holiday.

Eddie hadn't even laid eyes on Steve Harrington since the band fled town, Eddie freshly healed from his wounds after his week in hell. And now they're spending the holiday together. It makes no sense.

The band hasn't made it big, but they've made it work. They play regularly, make enough cash to get by, and that's more than he'd ever expected, honestly. They're serviceable musicians that have gotten more polished with practice and time, but they're not good enough to be stars, that's for damn sure. But the gigs are fun, and pay the bills, at least some of the time, so they've kept at it just because they still love to do it.

Eddie tears his eyes away from Steve before Wayne gives him more shit, and goes to sit next to Gareth, his back to the kitchen so he'll stop gawking.

It's just good to see old friends, that's all.

After dinner, they sit around a catch up, and Eddie has honed in on something that he doesn't like. Not at all.

Getting Wayne alone, he stares him down.

"What?" Wayne drawls.

"Don't what me," Eddie hisses.

Wayne laughs, and Eddie has to nip this in the bud.

"Don't you dare," Eddie says, yanking on Wayne's arm, fingers digging into the plaid sleeve of his shirt.

"What are you on about, kid?" Wayne asks, playing dumb, and Eddie gives him the best version of stink-eye that he can muster.

"That's his mom," Eddie bemoans, and Wayne laughs.

"I'm just being friendly. You're reaching."

Eddie is not reaching. Wayne doesn't sit around and laugh like a loon, but he's damn well been doing it all afternoon. He is not hitting on Mama Jones. That's…that's against the law. Several, probably.

"Don't," Eddie warns.

"You could be brothers," Wayne says, goading Eddie, and Eddie takes the bait. He always does. 

"Stop it. Right now. Or I'm telling."

Wayne laughs, "Telling who? My mother? She's been dead for a while, kid. Sorry about that."

Eddie huffs out an annoyed breath, "I'm gonna go smoke. You mind your own goddamn business, old man. Or I'll tell Gareth, and well, those will be your consequences to deal with."

It's cool outside, not really cold, but definitely breezy. Eddie pulls his jacket tighter to his body. He lights a cigarette, and takes a deep breath, looking over at the winterized pool and the woods beyond.

It's weird being home in Hawkins, and even stranger being at Steve Harrington's house. He's stayed away for nearly a decade, not really ready to face the town that would have been happier to see him strung up in the town square, innocent or not.

"Eddie Munson," Steve says from somewhere behind him, and Eddie jumps, then laughs.

"Steve Harrington," Eddie responds, offering his hand. Steve takes it, giving it a firm shake and it feels weird. They aren't handshake guys. 

"That's me," Steve says, "nice to meet you."

Eddie laughs, at least Steve thinks the handshake was as ridiculous as Eddie does.

"Thanks for inviting us, man. It was really good. I had no idea you could cook a turkey."

Steve smiles, "Well, honestly, me either. I just found a cookbook in the cabinet and winged it. Luckily I didn't burn the house down or anything."

And then Steve laughs. 

Somehow, Steve Harrington at thirty-two is even more gorgeous than he was at twenty. Life is truly unfair. Eddie's not sure how this man isn't married with the half dozen kids that he'd once wanted. But he looks happy, settled. His face seems free of the trauma they once shared, while Eddie feels forever destined to be treading water. 

He wishes he had the secret to that, because out of the blue he'll still have nightmares. Gareth has to wake him up, and reassure him he's fine, that everything's fine, that it's not real.

But it was real. He lived it. 

And it has fucked him up, irreparably.

"Catch me up, tell me everything," Steve says, hand snaking out and stealing his cigarette, taking a long drag. Eddie's body thrums with a want that he hasn't felt in a good long while.

"Don't tell Robin," Steve says with a wink, handing the cigarette back and then looks at Eddie expectantly. Eddie really doesn't have a lot to tell.

"Well, we're on the road. We get gigs, solid work, but it's not like we're gonna break into the mainstream anytime soon. Anytime at all, honestly."

"But you enjoy it? The gigs? The travel?" Steve asks, and isn't that a string of loaded questions.

"Yes," Eddie says, "most of the time."

Steve cocks his head to the side, like a curious dog, "And the other times?"

"It's rough, sometimes. Still. Always." 

"What would it take for you to feel better on the road more often?" Steve asks.

Fuck if Eddie knows. If he did, he'd already be doing it. He just shrugs.

"What kind of support system do you have while you're away from home?"

Eddie doesn't really have a home, but that's a can of worms he's definitely not cracking open.

"Um, Wayne's always a phone call away? And the guys are there," he says, then adds, "Gareth has made it his life's purpose to make sure I'm not alone for longer than five minutes. Makes bathroom time fun, let me tell you."

Then he feels his face flushing. He's rambling. He tried to make it seem like it's a joke, but it's not. Not really. He just doesn't know why he's admitting to any of this. It's like Steve turned on a faucet and now Eddie's leaking out all his private business, full-flow.

"I'm almost never alone. By design," Eddie adds.

That's the cold, honest truth. 

"Why do you think that is?" Steve asks, looking like he expects Eddie to have an answer. Good god, that's a lot of questions, a lot of expectations. 

"What are you, my therapist?" Eddie teases, trying to turn the tide away from seriousness, and Steve laughs, head tossed back, hair flying.

"Well. Not your therapist. But a therapist," he says, and no fucking way. Eddie didn't know that. How did he not know that?

That's one way to fix yourself he supposes.

He grins, leaning closer, leering a little, "You gonna psychoanalyze me? Find out what my damage is?"

Steve doesn't back away, instead he reaches out and cups Eddie's shoulder, squeezing, "Unfortunately, I know what your damage is."

And fuck. He certainly does, at least the biggest, hardest chunk of it. Eddie casts his eyes to the ground.

"But if you want to talk," Steve says, and Eddie is already shaking his head, but Steve keeps going, "off the record, off the books, just me and you. Old friends. Shared experiences. All that. Definitely not as your therapist. That's unethical. But, believe it or not, I've been told I'm a good listener."

He smiles, and it's so warm Eddie wants to word vomit all over him. He won't. But he wants to.

Steve keeps talking, "I'm always here if you want me to be. But that'd be true no matter what I did for a living."

And Eddie nods at that. He knows it's an honest offer, no strings attached. Because he knows Steve Harrington. He's a good dude.

Back on the road, Eddie didn't think he would, but he calls Steve. From motels. From pay phones. And he answers, carving out time to hear about Eddie's day. It must be draining for him to hear people talk all day about their problems, their damage, and then make the time to listen to Eddie do more of the same at least once a week for free.

Eddie tries not to take up his personal time, but Steve is a good listener, as advertised. He gives solid ear, which is probably good since that's his job. But mainly, he just listens and then sounds like he actually cares.

He does care. Eddie knows he does. Steve Harrington has always cared about all of them.

"You're really a therapist to the people of Hawkins?" Eddie asks.

Steve laughs, a snorting thing that sounds delighted, "Absolutely not. No, no, no. I have an office in Muncie. I'm not touching the problems of the people of Hawkins with a ten foot pole. They're a lost cause."

Eddie laughs. He knows that's hyperbole, but still. Yeah. Steve Harrington can't be a therapist in Hawkins. That'd be playing on hard mode, for sure. He knows too much about all of them, and they surely have opinions on him as well. Correct, or not.

"Well, did becoming a therapist help you get rid of all your baggage?" Eddie asks, because he's been curious. Steve seems so upbeat, so happy, that Eddie wants in on the secret.

"No," Steve laughs, "I've still got a few suitcases in the closet. But it has made me accept myself and my history more. But I went to therapy first, and that's what helped me process what we all went through."

"How in the hell did you tell a therapist what we went through without ending up committed in Pennhurst?"

Steve chuckles, "Dr. Owens set it up. He would have for you, too, if you hadn't flown the coop so damn fast."

"I wouldn't have trusted them," Eddie says, and that's the god's honest truth. No way, no how.

"I get it. It was hard. Robin went first. She survived, and so I thought, well, why not? It helped. Then, I wanted to do that for other people, to help them, too. Pay it forward. Whatever you want to call it."

"And that's what you're doing for me? I'm your project?" 

Steve laughs. 

"No, I'm your friend. I'm not your therapist."

He tells Eddie that at least once per call. 

"But I'd help you find one, if you ever want that. Because what I tell you isn't my professional opinion, it's my personal one. I'm not objective. I can't be. Because I was there. Because while I didn't experience the exact same thing as you, I know. I remember. You're not crazy. You're not overreacting. What happened to you, to all of us, sucked. It was unfair. And I'm sorry for the younger versions of us."

Eddie is quiet for a moment. 

"Me too, Steve. Me, too."

Another call, in another city, in another motel room that doesn't feel like home.

"I have sex to fill the holes," Eddie blurts out, totally unprompted. 

Steve cackles in his ear, and even from several states away, Eddie can feel the amusement on his face. Can picture it, clear as day. 

"Well, that is one of the main ways sex happens." 

Eddie laughs, "You're an asshole." 

"You teed me up. That's on you," Steve teases, and it makes Eddie feel better. He prefers that to feeling stripped raw. 

"There's nothing wrong with having an active sex life," Steve says.

"Gross," Eddie teases, then after a long pause, "Most of the time I feel worse after," Eddie admits, and he doesn't know why. 

"Then that could be a concern," Steve says. "Why do you think it can make you feel worse?"

"I want to feel safe. And I'm never gonna get that on the road from random hookups. I want a home to return to. I want to be loved, I think." 

"That's normal, Ed. I want you to have that, too." 

"But I can't meet someone on the road. And I don't want to just go home to Wayne and be a drain. I need space to recharge, not feel obligated to put on my bravest face." 

"Wayne doesn't want your bravest face, he just wants you, as you are."

"I know," and Eddie does know that. But it's easier said than done, "but I can't. He can't know how bad off I am, sometimes. He'd worry."

Steve lets the silence sit, he's gotten good at that, and that's always to Eddie's determent, because Eddie will fill any silence offered up to him.

"Why don't you have a family?" Eddie asks, and then immediately regrets it. It's too blunt, even for old friends.

Steve doesn't seem to miss a beat, though. Eddie guesses that's fair. If Steve can ask probing questions, so can Eddie. Even if he has far less tact about it.

"I mean, I have Robin. She's my family."

"But you didn't get married? Didn't have kids? You really wanted that. That was your dream," Eddie says, because that's something he's always felt sure about. Steve wanted to settle down, and Eddie wanted to fly free. 

"Well," Steve says, "sometimes dreams change. And that's okay."

And that cuts Eddie to the quick, because he damn well knows that's true. He's been feeling like maybe his dream has changed, but he's been tamping it down for months. Years, maybe.

But he can't tell the guys that he dreams of hanging up his guitar. Of going home, wherever home may be. He can't let them down like that. They were there when he needed them the most, and he's determined to be there for them now. 

It's just exhausting, and he hates that he feels that way. It's supposed to be fun.

"Okay, how about this? Come here, then," Steve says, "come home here. Anytime. Lay low, recharge your batteries with me. And Robin. We'll let you be. Let you step away from the music for a day, a weekend, a week, a month at a time. Whatever you need." 

"Steve, I can't just crash your life," Eddie says. 

"You won't. We'd love to have you. I promise to not 'therapize' you," he teases, using Eddie's own words against him, and Eddie imagines he even did the sarcastic air quotes.

"I-"

"You can."

And maybe Eddie will.

Steve opens the door to the guest room, "It has its own bathroom, so you've got your own space. But the whole house is free range. Go where you want. Do what you want. I get home at about six, Robin at seven. We usually eat then, and you're welcome to join us. Or eat before we get here to avoid us, or after we go to bed. Leftovers will be in the fridge. Help yourself."

"Steve, this is-"

"Nothing. We're glad you're here. And if I don't see you before you leave, it's been good to see your face. Twice in one year, now we're talking."

Eddie laughs, and leans forward to rest his forehead on Steve's shoulder, "Thanks, Steve."

"Anytime."

Eddie stays holed up for three days. He hears Steve and Robin, but never sees them, and true to Steve's word, they don't try to draw him out of his room. He sleeps, and writes, and just the sounds of them moving around the house makes him feel not so alone.

On the fourth day, he's sitting at the kitchen counter when Steve walks in, grocery bags in hand.

"It's chicken parm night," Steve says, not making a fuss about seeing him for the first time in days.

"Sounds good."

He eats with them, and he feels so much better, that he regrets it when it's finally time to get back to the band.

After that, the room becomes Eddie's, somehow. He leaves stuff, and comes and goes. Tonight he drops his bags at the door, and immediately barrels over the back of the couch. Steve protects his crotch from a stray knee, but otherwise catches him, laughing.

He's home. 

Somehow, this is his home, even if he's scared to admit that to himself.

They haven't talked about it, have barely even breathed it, but it's the god's honest truth: Steve Harrington is his home.

Steve smooths Eddie's hair back from his forehead and then rests his cheek against Eddie's exposed skin.

"How was the gig?" Steve asks, and Eddie makes a non-committal noise. It was fine, but he's tired and doesn't want to talk. He just wants to lay here.

And Steve lets him do exactly that.

He must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knows Steve is rousing him.

"Bed," Steve says, and Eddie reluctantly climbs off of him. Steve has to work tomorrow, but Eddie wasn't done. Life's unfair like that. 

Eddie follows him up the stairs, and down the hall, and detours into his room as Steve keeps walking. 

Eddie brushes his teeth, washes his face, and then lays in the bed staring at the ceiling. 

He can't sleep like this. 

Finally, Eddie gets up, walks down the hall and taps on Steve's door.

"Come in," Steve answers, muffled.

Steve says nothing else, asks no questions for once in his life, just throws back the sheets, an invitation. Eddie takes it, and crawls in his bed, pressing his face into Steve's bare back, arm wrapped around, squeezing him tight. Steve just rests his hand on Eddie's arm, squeezing briefly, before he falls back asleep.

After that, his own bed stays empty. He shows up, crawls in bed with Steve, and neither of them mention it. It is what it is.

Instead, they talk about everything else. Eddie spills his guts, and tells him everything under the cover of night. All his biggest fears, all the pain that still digs at him, down deep.

And Steve listens.

It's becoming a pattern of good days and bad days. He has good days with Steve, and bad days anywhere else. It's unfair to the band, and he doesn't know how to tell them that he's been thinking things they aren't going to like.

"How's Steve?" Gareth asks. 

Eddie nods, non-committal, "Good. The same." 

"Jeff got the new stack of contracts. Five shows a week, all over the country." 

Eddie doesn't wince. Doesn't move a muscle. Nobody told him they planned to hit the circuit that aggressively. 

It's fine. 

"Some weeks six," Gareth adds.

"That's cool," Eddie says, neutral. Cool as a cucumber. 

"Won't have much time off anymore," Gareth says. "Probably won't get to go home for a while."

"At least we'll be making some extra cash," Eddie says, aiming for the bright side. 

"Well, they aren't big offers. But enough to keep us on the road with some beer money to spare." 

Eddie nods, and says nothing. 

Gareth flops down next to him, "All that sounds good to you?" 

"Sure, whatever we've got scheduled is great."

Gareth whips around, grabbing his arms and shaking him, "Goddamnit, Ed! Fight back! Stand up for yourself!" 

Eddie just stares at him. What the fuck is he talking about? This kid is gonna give him whiplash. Figuratively, and literally, if he doesn't stop shaking him.

"Say you want to quit, or take a break, or just see Steve! At least tell me the truth if you won't tell anybody else!" 

Eddie grabs at his hair and pulls. 

Gareth doesn't let go of him, saying, "None of that is true, I was just trying to get you to tell me the truth for once. Since when did you start lying to me? To me." 

"We don't have new contracts?" Eddie asks. 

"No. We all talked. We're taking a break. Stepping back to see if this is still what we want. And you need to do that, too. At home, with Steve, with Wayne, wherever you need to be." 

"I need you," Eddie says. 

"I'll go where you go, if you want me to. Just. We can't keep doing it like this. You look miserable." 

He is miserable.

"I've tried to keep my head in it," Eddie swears, because he has.

"I know that. We all know that. We love you, that's never gonna change." 

And Eddie leans forward, pressing his forehead into Gareth's shoulder. Gareth pets his head, and lets him lean against him, "It's gonna be fine. No matter what."

"Thanks, kid."

When Eddie turns up this time on Steve's doorstep, it's late, and he has extra baggage. 

Gareth looks like he's moving in for good with his luggage and drums, but Steve looks completely unfazed. 

Robin, on the other hand, "Why are you here?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Gareth mumbles, and climbs the stairs.

"And why are there drums? There'll be no drumming in this house!" Robin yells, but Steve seems nonplussed and just keeps guiding them upstairs.

"Pick a room, or hole up in Eddie's. It's got its own bathroom," Steve says, and Eddie feels like that's an engraved invitation for him to keep crashing with Steve. Good. He wants that. 

Everybody is tired, and splits off for the night.

Once in bed, Eddie rolls onto his side, "He went home to surprise Mama Jones, and he's the one that got surprised. Wayne was in his old man boxers on the couch. Gareth may need intensive therapy. Shock therapy. Exposure therapy. Something."

Steve smiles, "Not it."

And Eddie laughs, rolling closer to Steve. He already feels better just being next to him.

He's looking forward to this break. 

The next morning, Eddie's sitting at the kitchen counter doing the crossword. Gareth's still in bed, Robin and Steve are cooking breakfast, bickering, in front of him. He's learned to tune it out for the most part. He's shared rooms in motels with paper thin walls for over a decade. He can ignore anything at this point.

"Ask your boyfriend, I sure as hell don't know," Robin says, and Eddie freezes. Well, he can't ignore that.

"Oh, like he knows," Steve answers, not missing a beat of their banter. 

Are they boyfriends? Did Eddie miss that memo? Holy shit. Does he have a boyfriend he's never even kissed? 

Then his stomach swoops, maybe Steve has a real boyfriend, one Eddie's just never met because he's never here, because he's self-centered and lost in his own��

"Earth to Eddie, I'm talking to you," Robin says, snapping her fingers in Eddie's face. 

Oh. He is the aforementioned boyfriend. 

He laughs, and it sounds shrill to his own ears, "What? I was off in my own world." 

"Well, what else is new?" Robin chides. 

He has a boyfriend, and he's just not sure how.

That night, Eddie is tossing and turning in bed. He can't sleep. Not with this hanging over his head. It's all he's thought about all damn day. Is Steve his boyfriend? Does Steve want to be his boyfriend? Can they fuck? Can they get married?

"What's up?" Steve asks, voice thick with sleep.

"Are we boyfriends?" Eddie asks, blunt and direct. Well, at least he didn't ask him if they could fuck. Small miracles abound.

Steve rolls over at that, "How would you feel about being boyfriends?"

Eddie wants to scream, "Can you, for once, not answer my questions with more questions?!"

Steve reaches out and takes both of Eddie's forearms into his hands, "I love you. In any way you'll let me."

He surges forward and kisses Steve, too hard, too fast, and it's awful. He's awful. Everything about this is awful. Steve deserves better than whatever the fuck this was.

"I'm sorry, goddamn, what the fuck is wrong with me?" Eddie asks, and he hears the blood rushing in his ears. He's embarrassed. 

"Nothing's wrong with you. Robin shouldn't have said that. I don't expect anything from you. No strings are attached here. But, yeah. I feel like whatever we've got going is something, but if you aren't interested—

Eddie cuts him off, "I've been interested since before you knew my name back in school. I just didn't think you would ever be."

"Eddie," Steve says, "I had feelings after everything that happened that spring. I just didn't have time to work through them, or understand them, until you were already gone."

What is Eddie supposed to do with that information? 

Eddie reaches for his hand, and laces their fingers together.

He's such a mess he got into some kind of relationship with Steve without even meaning to, and now he's got to navigate that. He wants to though, he really, really wants to. Even if he's bad at it. Even if he's never had a long-term romantic relationship, ever. 

Maybe he'll be bad at it, maybe he won't. But finally, with the band on hiatus, he'll have the luxury of time to try to do it right. 

And he'll get a second-crack at that kiss if it's the last thing he does.

Six Months Later

Eddie slings his bag over his shoulder, all smiles. Pressing his lips to Steve's. Once, twice, a third time just for good measure, and Steve grins against his lips until Eddie kisses his teeth by accident.

He's leaving home, but he'll be coming back again in just a few days.

"Hold down the fort," he instructs Steve, and Steve salutes him, and then Eddie's out the door.

On stage, he has fun, so much fun, in fact, that he hesitates to leave the bright spotlights at the end of the set. It hasn't been like that in a long, long time. They've gotten some bigger gigs, still nothing life-changing, but an opening act slot that is putting them in a handful of larger venues they've never stepped foot inside until now.

It's pretty goddamn cool.

He's found a balance, somehow, and he knows it's all thanks to Steve's patience.

And when he walks back through the door at home, Steve is wrestling a turkey into a disposable pan. Getting ready to start the days-long thawing process. Eddie watches him put it in the fridge, and then wash his hands.

It's been a year, and Eddie feels like his whole world has changed. One random meeting in the grocery store changed the whole trajectory of his life, he's pretty damn sure.

"I got the dining room table leaf out of the attic," Steve says, "we should have plenty of room for the Williamses and the Goodwins now."

Eddie grins. Their tradition is growing, and he couldn't be happier that more people he loves will all be under one roof for Thanksgiving this year.

"Wayne and Mama Jones are bringing the mashed potatoes," Eddie informs Steve. He'd just talked to Wayne this morning, and the old man was complaining about all the potato peeling in his future.

"Robin would cry and whine if we made her mash that many," Steve says, and Robin yells "Hey!" from the other room, and they just laugh together.

It's going to be a family affair, the whole extended family. Anybody that's in town. Dustin and Claudia. Joyce and Hop. 

Anybody that doesn't want to cook at home, or just wants to be with old friends, are more than welcome. Eddie thinks this is gonna be their tradition now, and he loves it.

"I actually got two turkeys," Steve says, leaning against the kitchen counter, crossing his legs at the ankle as he tosses the dish towel over his shoulder. 

"You sure that's enough?" Eddie asks, teasing.

"Here's to hoping," Steve answers. 

He's home. Steve's here. Robin's here. Gareth's here.

Everybody else that he loves will be here in a few days time. He feels really thankful.

And most importantly, he finally feels very loved.

Notes: Coming in hot with that new couple alert!! Go Wayne and Mama Jones, haha. I couldn't resist. It seemed like such fun, and Gareth would hate it.

When I wrote Take the Money and Run I had to figure out where Hawkins was on the map to me. I'd picked the location of Renner, and I've kind of just kept with that as I've written other things, this included. So, Muncie sits about 26 highway miles southeast of Hawkins, and that seemed like a reasonable place for Steve to commute to work. I wanted Steve in "Harrington House" as I nearly always do, lol, but he could not be a therapist to Hawkins. It was fun to imagine though. Karen Wheeler on his couch talking about Ted? Tommy H. discussing his third divorce? The possibilities were endless, if surely unethical, haha.

For better or worse, if I need a Macguffin for how they got money or help or anything from the government after the events of S4, it's probably gonna be Dr. Owens. And that was true here as well. Thanks, Dr. O. You've been real helpful to me, and the characters! You're a clutch dude, lol.

[cloversnstrawberries]

"eschatological hope" platonic!yandere!albert wesker & B.O.W!teen!reader [twoshot] [pt 1] ! !

masterlist !

description; You're one of many 'subjects' of a strange underground facility, one that sources their patients from survivor shelters outside of cities affected by outbreaks, specifically ones catered to children who are either orphaned or lost their parents amongst the chaos. One day, the emergency alarm begins blaring; the pre-recorded code said through the announcement system was unfamiliar.

You took it as a chance to run, to escape this hell-- it was the best opportunity you could ever ask for. Too bad it doesn't go you your way.

additional notes; hello! this definitely was just supposed to be a oneshot, but i lost hold on my self restraint and just want to really start off my resident evil writing with a bang . i really love this idea, and i'm a sucker for religious imagery and references, so :) but also, there's a scary lack of platonic!yan albert wesker... i plan to amend that in the coming weeks as i dive headfirst into this special interest on here. it's not going away. help.

also! reader is intended to be a younger teen, around ~14/15 in here, but can be interpreted as younger or older!

warnings; Child experimentation, body horror, betrayal, mentions of the apocalypse, canon-typical bloods, guts, gore, and violence, death of a child/mentioned deaths of children (not reader), child abuse, guns, general terror, non-consensual body modification (the scientists altered reader with a virus strain </3), not very yandere in this part, but oh boy will shit hit the fan in the second part, heavy religious symbolism and references (which will only get more obvious in the next part), slightly soft Albert Wesker, and there might be more that I missed! if so, please be sure to let me know!!

w/c; 7.7k (oh lord)

I was so close, you mournfully thought-- your cheek pressed to the cold tile, a guard's boot dug into the back of your skull as he put more and more pressure onto your cranium.

You were so close to make it out of here- out of here alive. You'd seen countless other... subjects, is all they saw you as; come and go from this strange, underground facility.

It always ended the same, whether or not they tried to escape.

You were a fool to think you were any different.

You'd made it the longest, survived the most tests. You were weak, muscles atrophied and dizzy from how small the portions of the meals they gave you were-- even if they could hardly be called that.

Scraps. They were just scraps, just enough to keep you alive; but just small enough to discourage this kind of stunt.

They keep you weak, keep you under their thumb until the time came to crush you down beneath it. You'd witnessed this many times-- you're not sure how many, no longer seeing a reason to keep track of the numbers.

Last you'd counted, it'd been at 38. 38 dead, either shot because they tried to escape, or...

Jamie had been a good friend to you, throughout this hell of an experience. In hushed whispers, they'd tell you stories of their life; they lived so differently from yourself, having hailed from sunny California.

You exchanged stories about the crazy weather phenomena you'd experienced, the snow storms that hit Arklay county mid-October a few years back, was traded for a story about how the highest temperature they'd suffered through was a whopping 131 degrees in the dead of summer.

But now, there was no Jamie.

There was only the thing left in their place, an awful amalgamation of... oh god, you can't even pick it apart. So many things-- eyes of a goat, five legs; two sprouting from their back like a dinosaurs spine, and one burst out of their shoulder.

Their face was near-unrecognizable, their voice no better off. You could hardly understand the words they were saying-- and they were words, you knew that much-- as they curled their hand, as crushed and mangled and deformed as it was, around your ankle.

You stood there, frozen with terror-- unknowing of what-- no, who, this was; until you caught sight of a chunk of long hair, once dyed a vibrant red atop light blonde hair-- all that was left was a faded red, their roots having grown in a good 2 or 3 inches, coming from what you assumed to the top of the thing's skull.

"Jamie?" You'd muttered, voice small and broken. You no longer tried to fight the hold on your leg, simply stared down in abject horror. You didn't notice the alarm begin to ring, nor the flashing red of the emergency lights-- the call of a code over the intercom, summoning all available personal to deal with a "Code 96".

It-- They, nodded; or it seemed like it, a jerk of what must've been their head. What came from the thing-- no, Jamie's mouth next, made your heart go from nearly beating out of your chest to terribly, deathly still, as you realize what they'd been trying to say the entire time.

"Kill... me..." they'd rasped, all semblance of their fiery but intelligent personality gone, replaced with a simple need to be put out of their misery.

You had no means to do so, but as you heard boots rushing down the echoing hallways-- making their way to the adolescent patient's barracks where they kept you all, you knew that they did.

You sunk to your knees, and you held your friend until the guards came in, one tasked with evacuating the other subjects; not wanting any to accidentally get hurt, because then that'd just be a waste of resources-- pulled you from your friend, who let out a horrifying sort of shriek.

Your hand outstretched, as they fumbled to reach out; unable to grab yours in time, you were pulled form the room just as rounds and rounds of gunshots sounded behind you. The door had barely been shut before it started, dents made in the dense metal scared you deeply-- but the bullets never did make it through the material.

Or because the experiments got to them first. The things they inject you all with, the tests and strange sets of tasks that hardly coincide with each other-- the things that somehow make nearly everyone turn into some sort of monster,

Some kept their mind, like Jamie had, and some didn’t.

You’d had an awful feeling that your time would come soon, when all the weird injections and ‘medicines’ and ‘treatments’ finally got to you.

In some ways, you’d accepted that. The fact that you’d probably never make it out, that you’d just be another lost subject. A waste of resources.

Not a living, breathing child that they stole away from a survivor’s shelter after an outbreak hit your city and you fled— and were able to do so, because you were all alone.

You had hopes and dreams— ones that would be splattered across the frigid tile floor any second now, along with your blood and brain matter.

Sometimes the guards were kind, they gave one shot right at the crown of your head— killing you instantly.

Sometimes they wanted to have a little ‘fun’ as they called it. Nobody but the guards found it fun, how they’d toy with the kids as they killed them— the scientists and ‘doctors’ found it wasteful of their time, a disgrace that they spent more time than necessary on terminating a subject.

The other kids, yourself included, found it horrifying. In the dark of night, when you all knew the cameras weren’t as heavily watched as before— the guards weren’t standing where they were supposed to in the patient barracks, you’d spread stories about how the staff were really the monsters.

You’d say that one has a second face hidden beneath her giant, fluffy blonde hair. The others kids said that one of the guards, a particularly cruel one which none of you knew the name of, secretly had a third eye— that’s why he never took off the guard gear, which most every other one did at some point, for one reason or another.

And as you lay here, feeling your nose shift as the pressure of the boot on your head increased, your face pressing harder and harder into the tile— you come to the dreadful realization that they’re going to have their ‘fun’ with you.

You hope they get in trouble with their superiors— really, you do. Because with the red emergency lights going, causing a terrible headache to form right behind your eyes— and the alarm blared, a pre-recorded voice calling over the intercom;

They shouldn’t be here, taking their sweet time with a patient that’d broken off from the rest. Honestly, you thought you could get away with it, in the chaos of them evacuating all patients; or, all patients worth saving.

Noticeably, the barracks that held the younger kids, all below 6, were not evacuated. If anything, they weren’t making any move to free the poor things— the door still locked, probably.

“You know,” The guard began to say, and you recognized that voice. Oh, oh God did you recognize it.

You thought he was nicest of the bunch— he always did his best to help you. In quiet, dark corners where the cameras wouldn’t reach, he’d give you a hug to hide the way he handed you some extra food.

Sometimes you’d smuggle it back to the barracks, to distribute among the most malnourished of you all. Sometimes he’d have you eat it right then and there, to make sure you got extra nutrients.

“So you can grow big and strong,” He’d say. That implied that’d you’d make it further than a year in this hellhole.

He’d even told you his name-- his first one, not his last one; the one he was supposed to only be known as, something he really wasn’t meant to do— he called you by your name as well, your real one, not the serial code you were assigned when you got here.

“Na-than—“ You stumbled out, letting out a cry of pain as he cruelly, oh-so-cruelly, put all of his weight on the foot currently crushing your skull.

He took it off within a few seconds, not wanting you to die so quickly. It’d be a mercy, considering what the other guards tend to do with the subjects they have their sick ‘fun’ with.

“Oh shut the hell up, you fucking brat.” He sounded so cruel. This— this couldn’t be Nathan, could it? No… they’re tricking you. He had to have been replaced, this was nothing like him—!

In a split second, you felt all encompassing relief; as he lifted his foot from the back of your head— but that relief was short-lived, as he crouched down beside you and wound his fingers through your hair,

He yanked your head up, and you made a valiant, but ultimately useless, attempt to stifle the yelp from the action.

When you did let that sound out— though, much smaller than it would’ve been had you not tried, he jostled your head around.

“I really thought you’d be the one to make it. The scientists worked really hard on your virus strain, you know that?” He said that as if it was your fault— your fault for what? You couldn’t really place your finger on.

Maybe… he’s blaming you because you’d given the scientists hope that they’d succeeded? If you had succeeded, would they have stopped the operations—

Or doubled the effort? You’re leaning more towards the latter.

“s’not my fault…” You mumbled, screwing your eyes shut. You swear that they had to have replaced all the lights with brighter, more agitating ones. It hurt to be anywhere when the lights were fully on— the blaring emergency light, bright red and spinning constantly— added another layer of it.

“Open your fucking eyes when i’m talking to you!” He yelled— oh, you’d never heard Nathan yell like that. This has to be an imposter; it had to be that the higher-ups found out how kind he was being and terminated him, one way or another.

This couldn’t be him.

Against your own wishes, but along with your better judgement— you peeled open your eyes, lips wobbling as you were forced to come face to face with both the lights, and—

The imposter had taken off his helmet, letting you have a full view of his face.

It was Nathan. No doubt about it.

“I’d say I actually liked you,” He snarled, leaning closer— your back creaking and bending as he pulled your upper half up, but your lower one stayed relatively flat on the floor. “But that’d be a lie.” There was a cruel smirk playing on the corner of his lips, nothing like the kind ones he’d always give you,

You wrenched out a sob, at which he jostled you a little more to get you to “Shut up!”

By that point, you were in absolutely no position not to follow his wishes, your life quite literally placed in the palm of his hands.

He leaned closer again, and you couldn’t help but let the tears rush down your face at the sting of hurt from his words— which only worsened as he continued on.

“The bonuses that my higher-ups gave me to act all buddy-buddy with you were pretty nice, though. I guess I have you to thank for that.”

Oh.

That… makes sense— why you two were never caught. Why he could get away with it, with stealing the food, with showing you his face, telling you his name, hugging you, comforting you—

It was all a ploy,

And for what? Maybe they thought that if the subjects had something to fight for, that they’d be more determined to make it out as a success?

That wasn’t true and you knew it— Jamie had things to fight for, but they still ended up with their mutated body looking more like swiss cheese by the end of it all.

Nathan-- no, the guard, as you refuse to associate this... monster with the man who had been so kind to you, even if, realistically, you knew they were one in the same.

That it was all just an act.

That doesn't mean you have to admit it to yourself, even if you accepted the fact in some capacity.

But... regardless, the guard, clicked his tongue, looking down upon you in a way that made you want to curl up and sob. "They thought you'd make it, you know? You were reacting so well to all the tests. The virus took hold..." You couldn't stop the confused little noise, clawing its way from the back of your throat.

Surprisingly, the guard didn't reprimand or hurt you for it. His smirk only grew to a sick, sick grin. Presumably because of the obvious show of confusion on your part,

"Oh? Did you not know? They were testing a new strain, I mean-- I'm surprised it took to you of all people!" The laugh that followed was mocking and devoid of any light. Any joy that wasn't founded in the sadistic nature of this guard. "It was modified from a strain made by a couple of traitors-- It was meant for the strongest. They just gave it to you to see where that threshold for 'strong' was!"

...Ah.

A virus? That's what this all was? You didn't know what they were putting into you all, none of the other patients had a clue about what was happening besides what was obvious. You really didn't know anything about it--

But that's it? They were putting viruses into all of you? That'd definitely explain why some ended up the way they did; some mindless, some wanting nothing but violence. The ones who didn't what such things always looked as if they did, like Jamie had.

You don't feel sick though, not how Jamie had been describing how they felt as they approached their death day, completely oblivious to what was happening-- a little more lethargic than usual, yes-- but not sick. You don't feel like your bones are about to snap, about to shift and move and rearrange themselves to turn you into a monster. You're sure you would've... felt it,

Before you could make another sound-- before the guard could continue his spiel, a new round of heavy gunfire broke out nearby-- a few turns down the long corridor, you think.

Then, screams-- so many, and.. and bones cracking, flesh ripping; it didn't sound like anyone was getting shot.

It sounded like their heads were being twisted and ripped from their neck. You witnessed that once, with a particularly violent, now-terminated, subject. That's how you recognized the awful sound as the flesh of the neck tried to follow the way their head was being turned, only to be ripped-- sinew snapping as their bodies were pushed pass the limits of human capabilties.

The alarms-- no one knew what it was about, the code they were putting through the intercoms wasn't one you recognized. It wasn't one any of you recognized-- the guards seemed... panicked, for once. Not for you all, not at all; but because they had to evacuate everyone before they could save themselves.

Something told you that this wasn't a regular sort of rampage, put on by a grotesque mimicry of one of your fellow captives.

One second, the guards fingers were twisted in your hair-- yanking you, making your neck strain painfully as he forced you to look him in the face,

And the next, your hair was released and your head lolled forward; smacking your forehead right against the tile, not enough time to brace yourself at all. You heard the guard yell out a string of curses, before he stumbled-- and you mean stumbled, up; all scary calm and malice gone.

Replaced by a primal fear and terror that you know all too well. It was a little funny, seeing the primary force behind that sort of emotion experiencing it firsthand for once.

You don't see a point in picking yourself up at first, expecting you end to be swift-- for whatever was causing the apparent massacre to come charging at you, uncaring as it twisted your neck violently; just as you're sure it'd done to all the guards a few turns ahead.

But it... a few moments pass by, and nothing of the sort happens. You don't hear anything coming for you-- no horrifying creature shambling toward you on all fours, or a mass of disgusting, pulsing and gory flesh sliding across the tile to attack you.

All you hear are calm, methodical steps coming your way. A scientist, maybe-- all the guards seemed to be in a state of panic, if that one had left you in such a rush; if they leave you alone, if they don't continue their 'fun', or pull you along to continue at another time,

Then you know something is terribly, awfully wrong.

You listened carefully to the click-click-click of heeled dress shoes against the tile floor, coming closer and closer. The scientists weren't as outwardly-cruel as the guards, didn't rough you and the others kid up like they did...

But that's not to say that they cared for you, for any of you. If what the guard said was true, that you had gotten the furthest with their experiments-- then maybe the scientist would pick you up and drag you back.

Or kill you, and study your corpse to see what made your body welcome whatever virus they'd forced onto you.

At that, you made an effort to rise from your spot on the ground. Your elbows gave out the first few times you tried, adrenaline still running through your system-- but you were shaken up, and it was always harder to get up from the floor than it was from a chair or bed.

You were so tired, frail and weak-- but still better off than most. You were one of the few that actually had a chance, and you couldn't just give that up. Even if there was nothing to fight for really, you still had to get out. You don't know why-- maybe it's just in the human nature to want to continue on despite it all.

To survive anything, no real reason behind it. Simply a primal part of you, left over from centuries past; one that not even the most disciplined could stamp down, you think.

When you did get purchase, able to push yourself up to sit on your folded legs-- biting the inside of your cheek to smother the strange sort of chirp that desperately wished to escape you.

That'd been happening recently-- producing strange noises like that of a bird, especially when in distress. You'd been able to cover them up with a cough, or stifle them either mostly or completely, but the more scared you were; the harder it became to hide them.

You managed, though-- the fear of being noticed by whoever those eerily calm, unbothered steps that was a stark contrast to the bloodbath they were certainly just waltzing right through.

One sitting, you did your best to rise from the position-- unable to get to enough leverage to rise just as you were without collapsing to the ground, you got one leg out from under yourself-- though not without great difficulty.

Just as you were about to heft yourself up into a kneeling position, sure that you'd be able to stand from there-- you heard the footsteps come to an abrupt stop; you hadn't noticed how close they were until they went silent.

Slowly, you raised your head. The dread and barely contained panic keeping you from focusing on the throbbing, world-ending headache that kicked up a notch as you looked straight on at the lights--

In front of you, down near the hallway; but not nearly far enough for your own liking, was a man you'd never seen before. Dressed in all black, he looked more like an FBI or undercover agent you'd see in a movie than anything.

Was he here to save you? You dazedly thought, but as you looked into the mans face-- his eyes hidden by simple black sunglasses, something told you that you had to run.

This man wasn't like the others-- his presence felt suffocating, like his existence alone could choke the life out from you.

Despite the headache, the aches and pain-- and the way that, deep down, you knew that you could never outrun this man... or whatever he was; that even if you were perfectly healthy, in the best shape possible, you never stood a chance, you still tried to run.

You stood abruptly, the pressure in your head becoming almost unbearable as black clouded your vision-- as disoriented and dizzy as you were, you're surprised you didn't fall right to the floor like a discarded ragdoll upon standing.

When your vision finally cleared, you met the mans gaze, and really got a look at him. The light casted behind him made him look like he had a halo-- a halo of red, like a sun delivering sailors an ill omen, bounced off of his perfectly gelled blond hair. His face was sharp, and he looked like he was in better shape than some of the guards here.

Upon closer inspection, he seemed to be wearing tactical gear-- and when you looked a little longer, realized that the strange spots of... something, wasn't a bad dye job of the fabric.

It was blood, mostly centralized to his black leather gloves, coagulated but still beading up-- one big glob fell to the floor, as the man simply stood there. Watching, waiting-- like a cat would to a mouse, staring it down and waiting for it to turn its back.

Cat's were stealth predators, more focused catching their prey off-guard rather than over powering it with sheer brute force. You're sure the man could do that-- and the reality of it all came crashing down.

He must be the one who killed the guards, the one that caused the one tormenting you to run for the hills like his life depended on it,

because it did, and yours did too.

He said nothing, as he stood there. He tilted his head, his face unreadable-- the glasses weren't helping. Slowly, as steadily as you could manage, you took a few steps back.

And then a few more, not daring to turn around until the very last minute. When he took a step forward, you turned and bolted down the hall.

You don't know where the exit is-- or, really the elevator. Or stairs-- anything to get you out from this underground hell. You stumbled as you ran, twisting and turning through the corridors; your lungs burning, head pounding and body aching--

But you never stopped running, and you wouldn't until you were safe, or you simply keeled over right then and there. You wouldn't stop running, wouldn't stop this fruitless fight until your very heart gave out--

Or you joined the number of casualties, head twisted off. You'd yet to see any bodies, any blood or gore-- or anyone else. Most of them were in the other side of the building, and you dashed toward the section with the labs and testing rooms.

There, you think you could find a weapon, or at the very least a weapon to brandish. A weapon that would do nothing, and you were well aware it would do nothing.

The man that had stood before you, the one that set off your fight-or-flight instincts like never before, couldn't have been human. He just couldn't have been. If he had been the ones to cause those terrible noises of sinew snapping and viscera splashing on the sterile, once white walls...

Then that was that, he wasn't human. You don't know what exactly he'd be, and you don't want to find out.

For one foolish, silly second-- you assumed you'd shook him off your proverbial tail. He hadn't chased after you, and even if you were malnourished and frail, you still could run fast in necessary. Could push yourself if it meant a chance for freedom, to see the sun again-- even if it'd be the last time.

it'd hurt, you think. The other patients would complain that the barracks lighting was becoming too dim, but to you-- it was always just bit too bright. What might've been bearable the day before, became uncomfortably bright the next. Not blinding like the corridor's lights were, though. And for that, you'd been thankful.

You weren't familiar with this facility-- you were aiming for the labs, but somehow wound up in going in a circle; now facing the other way, close to where you'd started.

Bodies-- all over the ground, mostly guards... a few scientists, their white coats weren't all stained-- some were a stark white against the viscera covering the hallway.

Ahead of you, the click-click-click of heeled dress shoes called your attention, and at the end of the hallway, stood the man.

It was as if he knew you'd wind up back here, like he knew how inexperienced you were in the layout of this place-- like he knew the layout himself. A smirk played at his lips, showcasing rather sharp canines. The kind that could easily tear flesh from bone with no issue.

Maybe... he was an angel of death, you surmised. It fit, it really did-- maybe that's why he made it through the hail of bullets the slain guards around you had sent his way. How he'd been able to kill them so quickly, without so much as a scratch on his person.

The need to run didn't fade, if anything it got worse-- maybe because you knew, wholly and entirely, that you can't run. Not really. If he wanted you dead, then it'd be so. He'd taken down so many trained guards, a measly, terrified child wouldn't be a problem at all.

All you can think of that could stop him, was morals. You don't think he has those-- with the sight surrounding you.

This time, when he stepped forward, you didn't make any move to take a step back. It was useless. this was all so useless. Why you? Why did it have to be you? The shelter hadn't been ideal, but it was better than this.

You sunk to the ground, tears welling in your eyes as you looked down-- trying to look away from the still-going emergency lights, the too-bright fluorescents that hung above were still on. The combination of the two made it feel like someone was tenderizing your brain with a sledgehammer constantly.

The clicks of his shoes aren't as sharp sometimes, when he steps in the puddles of blood-- they get closer, and closer... until he stands before you, only his shoes and part of his legs were visible to you.

You kept your head down, not wishing to look at your end. You want to die under the illusion that you ever had any choice in your life. That you chose your own end, and it was not brought upon you by this... angel of death.

And as you sat there, expecting the pain-- or simply a pinch before your entire world went black; shivering from both fear and the cold of the hallway, bile rising in your throat and your headache refusing to back down even a smidge; you imagine a world were you got to live a little longer.

Because, in your mind, you died the moment you entered this facility; it was a death sentence, and you should've been able to come to terms with that. It was stupid, you felt stupid for thinking you were any different to countless other kids that'd died in these halls-- some going down with a fight, others begging for their end;

"Look at me." A deep, almost... British, but not quite-- voice spoke, clear and concise. The man sounded... oddly human. You'd expected maybe a reverb of sorts, or the voice to crawl into the crevices of your brain and dig their claws in...

He was still scary, his voice sending a flash of terror through your body-- but in a way no different than the scientists were. It was a very human type of fear that his voice incited, the fear of somebody in a position of power above you.

Oh, how badly you wished to stay staring at the ground-- it was the lights, that was the problem. The man scared you, but you knew you should obey him. Maybe he'd give you a chance then.

Oddly enough, he seemed quite... patient, all things considered. he stood there for maybe a minute or so, before repeating himself. In the same tone, the same exact cadence and words.

"Look at me." He said, and something inexplicable-- something that felt rooted in your very soul, tugged at your mind. Telling you that he wouldn't be so kind if you made him ask again.

And you do, trying to keep your eyes open despite the pain that followed. Nausea rolled through you, both from the smell of blood and flesh-- it was sharp, much more noticeable then you think it should be; as if it's being held right in front of your nose-- and from how the headache worsened.

The smirk he had when he'd first spotted you had dropped, his face now a cold mask of... something. He really did look like an angel-- but the sorts found in older religious texts. neither good nor bad, simply carrying out God's will, who in of Themselves, was a contradiction.

The man reached out, and you couldn't help but jerk your head back-- he said nothing of it. In fact, you could've sworn the corners of his lips were giving way to a little smile, not just a smirk-- but it was gone before you could really register it;

But, he continued to reach out, and you stayed stock still, not wanting to test his patience again. You were already on thin ice, probably. For running from him, for making him repeat himself-- maybe he'd give you mercy, though? Because you were so young?

You weren't exactly a child, but you weren't an adult. Maybe... maybe he'd leave you be. He didn't seem to be hurting you, and when he curled his hand around your chin to push your head up just a bit more-- he was... gentle with it. In a way you hadn't experienced in so, so long from any adult.

Even Nathan hadn't been entirely soft with his movements, too used to being rough with it all; not knowing his strength, or the fragility of a subject who'd been here as long as you had.

You're surprised you were still able to run as much as you did.

The man hummed, turning your head just a tad to the left-- then gently guiding it to turn the other way. Like he was a museum curator appraising a priceless artifact.

When he turned your head to face him straight-on, you winced; the headache reaching an all time high, making you feel as if you were going to pass out form the pain at any given moment.

"Does the light bother you?" He asked, and you tried to nod-- but his grip, as gentle as it was, was all too firm. Not enough slack to complete the gesture. "Use your words." He said next, no irritation obvious in his tone.

But still, it set you on edge. How calm he was. People weren't calm like that-- but maybe angels were. That's what he had to be. He couldn't be human... he just couldn't be.

But... why would he ask that? It's not like the man cared for your well-being, right? it doesn't seem so, the question asked with an almost clinical sort of edge. Like the scientists had when they asked if there were any major concerns with your health, if you'd felt any negative side effects.

Not out of care for your person, but care for what you represented; a subject, something to test on to try and further whatever agenda or project they're assigned to.

"...Yes sir." You croaked out, shaking-- tacking on the honorific should help, yeah? The scientists always made you refer to them as such-- Sir or Ma'am, not accepting anything else. Not accepting no personal address either; that's how you get locked up in solitary for a few hours, to 'learn your lesson about disrespect'.

You were better at it than most, only being placed in solitary twice for the reason of 'disrespecting the scientists' with the lack of it.

The chuckle that followed terrified you, making your entire body lock up-- muscles pulled taut, ready to snap. Spine straight, much like a rabbit ready to bolt;

"Good to know you have manners. That'll make things easier." Your anxiety only worsened-- make what easier? What was he going to do, and how hell was your manners going the help that process?

Finally, he released your chin-- and not a moment too soon. You slumped, not from relief, but from the bone-deep exhaustion plaguing you after everything. Head lolling forward to try and avoid the bright light, you don't know how you're still even vaguely upright-- hell, how you're even still awake. You probably burned off more calories than you've collectively taken in since arriving here.

The world was spinning around you, and that notified you that you consciousness was probably something very, very short-lived. You're sure that, if you do pass out before he does whatever he does; you won't wake up again.

He says something, but the world if muffled around you-- blood rushing in your ears, making it sound like everything was underwater. You came to when he snapped his fingers in your face, it was a warning just as much as it was call for your attention.

You looked up-- or made the move to, only for him to place his hand atop your head, and gently direct you to keep your gaze down. "You'll damage your eyesight. Close them, if that helps any."

He framed it like he was offering it, offering advice-- you shut your eyes, seeing it as what it was. You had no choice in it. Whatever use he wanted you for, he didn't want your vision to be damaged for it.

You don't think the lights would damage your sight-- more just give a pounding migraine, but you do as he says regardless; he could very well just crush your skull in his hand, right then and there-- if he took down so many guards as you think he had.

For once, some higher being smiled upon you; and he moved his hand from your head, and while he was still as close as before, it was a massive weight lifted from your shoulders, not to have him making any direct contact anymore.

"I won't repeat myself again," He started off with, and you tried to show that you were listening-- he stayed quiet afterward, and you realized with a jolt, what he wanted. As soon as you realized, you aid-- almost robotically, "I understand, sir."

A few seconds passed, a heavy weight forming in your heart-- was that not what he wanted? You were tempted to open your eyes to try and see if you could get a read on his face, figure out what he was thinking; if he was about to kill you for some perceived slight.

...But would an angel do that? Even one who killed all these people? If you were still alive, then maybe he was ordered not to kill you. Or, more realistically, not specifically ordered to kill you.

Even if he wasn't an angel of death, if he was just some terrifying super-human or something of the like, he has to work under someone; right? He also said he's got a use for you.

You just hope that you picked up on the implications that he needed you alive for that use.

"Good." The man-- Angel?-- replied, as you hear fabric shifting-- the man moving, whether that be shifting on his feet or reaching into a pocket, you have no idea. "What's your serial code?"

"...I don't know it, sir." You shook-- you really didn't. Well, you didn't remember it off the top of your head, so maybe, if you explained yourself, he'd be more kind... "But if I hear it, then I'll know it's mine."

That can't be of much help. You might've just doomed yourself even worse, tacking on something like that- did he think you were wasting his time? Were you why he'd come here in the first place? That can't be it, you were never that important--

"Would you happen to be Subject 082202?" He asked-- and you recognized the number. Was he really after you? That's... that could go either one way or the either. Hope bloomed in your chest, before smothered by absolute despair.

What did he want with you?

You tried to respond, you really did-- but your voice failed you, wobbling and tried not to cry. You nodded, hoping he'd give you some leniency with it.

Surprisingly, he let it go. Didn't even comment on it-- when he spoke next, he sounded so... not happy, but--

Victorious, you think it'd be. Smug would be your next choice, the emotion in his voice was hard to pinpoint. It was barely there, but without anything else to witness or analyze-- you were stuck with trying to dissect his tone.

"Good, that's good." You heard him shift again-- the sound his shoes made against the tile suggested that he'd crouched down, and and his heavy leather coat shifted, but in what way you couldn't be sure--

More noises, ones that were meant to be quiet-- you weren't supposed to be able to pick on them, but you could. Maybe it was the fear of it all.

Then, his hand was back on your chin. Reflexively, you flinched; but he didn't reprimand you, if anything, his tone suggested that he... cared,

Maybe not for you-- probably for whatever you could do for him, but it was care regardless, and he told you "Stay still."

You did, and felt something place onto your face-- it felt like metal, warmed by a human's natural heat; it felt like a pair of glasses, the arms tucked above your ears, the metal bridge of it resting against your nose--

"Open your eyes, tell me if it's any better." The man said with a firmness that reminded you of the scientists-- or the guards. A strange mix between the two; maybe more like a cop, if you think about it hard enough. A sense of authority, firm but not demanding.

You do so-- the headache is still there, it'd gotten better when your eyes were closed. You find that, when you open your eyes, the world is a little dimmer; the headache doesn't spike as you'd expected due to it.

As you look up at the man, you realize that he doesn't have sunglasses on now-- giving you full view of his...

Yeah. The confirms it; he is absolutely not human. His eyes looked like a snakes, maybe more like a dragons; red with yellow around his slitted pupils-- instead of scaring you as it absolutely should,

It.. comforted you. Against your will, mind you-- a little bit of tension easing out of your form at the sight of them. You don't know why. It should terrify you, it should make you want to run for the hills, like he had when he first showed up--

With his eyes no longer obscured, and your headache a little dimmer, you think that you'd have a better chance at reading the emotions on his face--

He cleared his throat, bringing you back to the present-- to his question he'd had with his earlier command. You try not to test your luck, now able to give out a short, soft "Yes sir."

His hand released your chin again, and with all the energy left in you-- you tried your best not to have your head fall forward from exhaustion, from the loss of the support of his hand. he huffed, shifting a bit-- he was crouching, but no longer leaning in close, leaving you with a little bit of a personal bubble.

A sort of privilege you haven't been afforded in a long, long while. Nobody crowding in your space-- nobody poking and prodding. Just letting you exist. Simply letting you sit there, without anyone breathing down your neck-- unrestrained, able to leave (if you weren't so banged up-- and honest-to-god terrified of the man, but that's neither here nor there) if desired.

You notice now, that there is a suitcase set down by his side-- looking rather innocent. A simple brown leather one, no obvious tells of what could be inside. It looked like one of the head scientists own bag, one you always saw him carrying around. Not trusting to leave it in one place without him present, you'd guessed.

"You're the subject for the Ammit Strain, aren't you?" He asked-- he seemed to already be sure of himself, and it left you confused as to why he's asking you. Because you don't have a solid answer for him-- and that shouldn't have been expected of you to have one.

"Uhm... I-I'm not sure. I don't... know what that is." You half expect his calm, strangely patient, demeanor to change in the blink of an eye-- for his hand to shoot out and grab your neck, and twist until your world went dark. It was irrational (probably), because he said he needs you for something. Even if you don't know what it is, you're pretty sure he needs you alive for it--

it's still up in the air, though. So you don't rely on that assumption for comfort too much.

Instead of that, instead of any violent outburst or sudden shift in his approach-- he seemed to... smile a little at your response. it was small, barely noticeable unless you'd been staring at him for god knows how long--

and, oh boy, have you been staring at him. analyzing him, trying to make sense of it all. as you do, when you're stuck in a strange and scary situation such as this.

"That's alright." He leaned forward, hang outstretched-- it landed on your shoulder, in a strange... friendly sort of gesture. Like a teacher would do as they praise you for an A+ on an assignment. "I know you are."

Then why did you ask? a bold part of you made you want to say-- one you thought had been stomped down a long time ago. During your second stay in solitary, where they kept you in for 6 hours rather than the measly 45 minutes you'd been in there the first go-around.

You kept quiet, hoping that he'd give a bit of an explanation as to-- anything. But you know he probably won't, not without prompting; even then, he might be more inclined to telling you to shut up or dancing around the question then give a truthful answer-- or one at all, for that matter.

He didn't do anything of the sort, the conversation going dead as he stood-- He grabbed the briefcase from beside him, but didn't make any move to turn around.

As he looked down at you, you realized he probably wanted you to stand as well. Torn between telling him that you aren't sure you could do so, and staying quiet as to try and minimize any possible anger-- you simply sat there, unmoving. Terrified, feeling like you'd found yourself right in a damned-if-i-do, damned-if-i-don't sort of situation.

A few moments later, he seemed to realize what your silence, what your immobility signified. He walked around you, standing behind you-- and gave no warning as he leaned down and put his hands under your armpits-- pulling you that way, before maneuvering you in such a way where he could pick you up into a princess carry from there.

Out of pure reflex, you threw your arms above his shoulders-- scared of tumbling over and out of his hold. By the time you realize what you'd done, you were too scared-stiff you amend it.

He... didn't seem to mind it much, though.

The hand held underneath your knee carried the briefcase, the handle digging into your thin grey sweatpants just a tad-- not too uncomfortable, but not ideal. Like hell you were going to say anything about it, though.

As he began to walk, he suddenly asked "What's your name?"

Despite the fear, a slip in your judgement made you let out a little "huh?"

He huffed, his smile growing wider for just a second-- starting to resemble an actual one, before reverting back to the small, almost non-existent smirk he'd had before. "Your name. None of the documents said it, only referred to you as your serial number or the strain."

"Oh." This was so confusing-- he kept walking, letting you two lapse into silence; he wasn't rushing your answer, quite the opposite. He seemed to be letting you... take your time, even if it was such a simple and easy request.

Then, quietly, you said it. Almost as if you were afraid that the scientists or guards would hear, and punish you for it-- it was their way of isolating you from the outside world, telling you to forget who you were before you'd come here.

That you had no other name, nothing else to be called, besides Subject 082202.

The man heard you, though. He hummed in acknowledgement, and in a moment of reckless, almost moronic, bravery-- you ventured to ask,

"What's your name?"

Almost immediately, he answered with "Albert Wesker, but you'd do good not to use it." The name... was familiar, set off even more alarm bells than the man had before you learned of his name.

"...So just keep calling you sir?" What were you doing? Why were you doing this? How stupid were you, to push him like this--

"That's what was implied, isn't it?" He responded, the little edge painting his tone let you know that his patience must've been running thin. You shut up, smothering what you'd wanted to say--I was just making sure.

Something like that would definitely be categorized as disrespect-- to a normal person, and absolutely to the scientists-- which you'd defaulted to treating him as.

As he carried you, exhaustion having taken its toll on you-- your eyes slid shut, head falling forward and resting against his shoulder. Within a few seconds, you were out like a light.

[buddierecs]

buck & christopher fics

i have had so many requests for fics with chris & buck or buckley-diaz family fics, so i am going to post some of my favourite fics with those two tags, starting with buck & christopher and then when i answer the request, i will add fics that are more specific to what the person is asking for, while linking the fic lists :) these are also buddie fics btw all of these are general audience, teen and up or not rated (no smut). make sure to kudos/comment on these amazing works :)

christopher diaz has two dads okay (series) by: honestlydarkprincess "all my stories that include buck being christopher's other dad, because that's my shit" word count: 61k important tags: buck as chris' parent, buckley-diaz family feels whenever you call me, i'll be there by: ipretendtobesane "five times chris calls buck, and the one time buck calls chris" word count: 8.4k important tags: 5+1 things, tooth-rotting fluff never wanna let you go, know you make me feel alright by: alwaysou28 "four times buck's relationship with chris negatively affected his romantic relationship and one time it didn't." word count: 4.2k important tags: 4+1 things, buck as chris' parent, fluff, pre-relationship buddie i was made for you by: youdrewstarsaroundmyscars "buck’s taking care of christopher while eddie is in texas when chris gets sick and has to get surgery." word count: 5.3k important tags: buck as chris' parent, protective!evan buckley, worried!evan buckley, sick!christopher diaz, team as family the wood marked for your fire by: hattalove "in which buck is used to wanting things he's not allowed to have; it's just that he never thought being a father would be one of them." word count: 10k important tags: buck as chris' parent, fluff rainbows have nothing to hide by: hattalove "how is eddie diaz like kermit the frog? let buck and christopher count the ways." word count: 3.7k important tags: christopher diaz is a national treasure, kermit memes, multimedia this postcard tells you where we've been by: daisies_and_briars "eddie finds a collection of postcards buck sent to chris over his summer in el paso." word count: 3.5k important tags: post season 7, soft and fluffy, multimedia i've seen a couple suns that set forever by: daisies_and_briars "freshly home from texas and faced with the prospect of his dad's feelings for buck, christopher's abandonment issues surface. a conversation with bobby, and realizing the parallels between buck's relationship with bobby, and his relationship with buck, gives chris the perspective he needs." word count: 7k important tags: found family, emotional hurt/comfort, teenager!christopher, post season 7 open our eyes and it's changing the view by: markofalover "christopher writes a poem and everything falls into place." word count: 3.3k important tags: buck is chris' parent, poetry, friends to lovers the parent trap by: abow123456 "evan buckley is 7 years old when his mother leaves him at a gas station, where he meets bobby nash. 20 years later, evan "buck" nash is a firefighter with the 118, when he meets 7 year old christopher diaz at a gas station, after his mother killed herself. he takes the boy in, just like his father did to him, and cares for him. but, when christophers father finally comes into the picture, how will things change?" word count: 53k important tags: buck as chris' parent, adoption, team as family, bobby and athena are buck's parents nothing left but you by: daisies_and_briars "in may of 2021, 25% of earth's population suddenly disappears. including eddie. in may of 2026, they all come back. eddie finds himself suddenly in the middle of a world he doesn't recognize, where the people he loves most have changed significantly." word count: 27k important tags: time skips, temporary character death, buck as chris' dad

[archangeldyke-all]

Domestic!Sevika having possessive and very horny sex with Reader because she’s the mother of her children and she just loves her to death and is so happy they have a family together?🫶🏽

as much as i don't want kids i'm such a sucker for sweet domestic girldad sevika requests <3

men and minors dni

it's jinx's birthday. born smack dab in the middle of summer, it's been tradition for her birthday to be celebrated with a huge barbecue party in silco's backyard-- slip n slides and inflatable pools out for the kids, and cold drinks out for the adults. it's always a great time.

little fucker, only four years old, is jinx's favorite thing in the world. the feeling is mutual-- your daughter adores jinx, always asking when she can see the pre-teen next.

right now jinx is running around the back yard, your daughter hanging on her back, both of them armed with water guns as they scream and laugh and dodge water balloons the boys are lobbing at them.

jinx is pretty slowed down with little fucker clinging to her, but violet's taken it upon herself to defend her sister and her god-sister, escorting them behind the pool before throwing a bucket of water on claggor, mylo and ekko. they all squeal.

all the kids are laughing, but you can hear your daughter's loudest of all, and your heart swells.

beside you, sevika nudges you. you look over at her, sprawled out in the lawn chair beside yours, and she grins.

"what're you smiling about?" she asks, handing you another drink.

"our kid." you say, gesturing to your daughter where she's trying to throw a waterballoon at violet.

she's still too small to put much force behind her throw, and it bounces off of violet's stomach and onto the concrete where it pops. violet laughs, and your daughter pouts, then turns to look at you and sevika, tears in her eyes. you both coo.

she comes running over, a worried violet following after her, and she launches herself into your arms, muffling her cries into your shoulder. you start stroking her back.

"i'm sorry!" violet says, cringing. you laugh and wave at her.

"not your fault, right baby?" you ask your daughter. she cries but nods into your shoulder. "she's not upset at you. she just gets frustrated."

"wanna be strong!" she cries. "'s no fair!"

beside you, sevika snorts a laugh, reaching over to ruffle her hair.

"you will be!" violet promises your kid. "you're only four!"

"i wanna be twelve!" she whines.

"w-why twelve?"

"it's when sevika promised she'll start training her."

"in boxing? but aunt sev-- you started training me when i was--" you both glare at violet and she trails off, blinking. "uh. i mean. they didn't let me start until i was twelve, too." she says. you nod and mouth a 'thank you' to violet.

sevika had violet in the ring by the time she was ten. but now that it's her own kid-- sevika gets nauseous at the thought of her baby maybe, someday, potentially getting hit.

"see kid? rules are rules." sevika says. your daughter huffs.

"c'mon, i'll teach you some moves right now, kid." she promises, holding her hand out for your daughter. she gasps.

"really?!" she asks. violet laughs and sevika groans.

"yeah, hurry up though, or your mom's gonna try 'n tackle me." she says, giggling at sevika's angry expression. your daughter squeals, her tears forgotten as she launches herself out of your lap and takes violet's hand, before the two of them take off across the yard.

"if you hurt my fucking kid vi--"

"i got it aunt sev, relax!" she laughs.

sevika huffs and you reach out to hold her hand. she looks over at you, her worry melting as she clinks her glass against yours. you both take a sip, sighing as you relax in your chairs.

"do you know how fucking hot you are?" she asks.

"you've been a lightweight since we had a kid." you say, chuckling.

"fuck off, i'm serious." sevika says. you giggle.

"i didn't say you weren't!" you say. "i'm just saying you usually don't tell me those kinds of things in public unless you're drunk."

sevika pouts. "i guess i need to change that, huh?" you giggle.

"no, please don't, we'll never be able to get anything done if you're constantly letting your mouth run."

"oh, so this is doing something for you?" she teases, squeezing your hand. you shrug, biting back your smile.

"what if it was?"

"if it was, then i'd tell you that i felt my dick twitch a bit when you came out of the bedroom wearing this today." she murmurs her fingers playing with the flouncy hem of your sundress. you bite your lip even harder-- you wore it for her.

"yeah?"

"i'd tell you that i've had a half chub since we got here, and that watching you bein' such a good mom just makes me wanna give you more kids." she whispers, her breath tickling your ear.

you shiver in your seat, clenching your thighs together. sevika smirks at the obvious sign of your arousal, and you take a big sip of your drink, licking your lips and trying to collect yourself as she eyes you.

for a moment, you just look at one another, locked in a lust-fueled staring competition.

the kids are laughing and splashing in the pool, benzo and vander are arguing over the grill, silco's talking to some of his neighbors across the fence, dogs are barking down the street and crickets are chirping-- but you can barely hear them over the sound of your heart pounding in your chest.

sevika's hand is slowly creeping up your thigh, the hem of your skirt rising higher and higher. you bite your lip and spread your thighs just an inch, and sevika grins.

a scream brings you both back to reality. you pull away from each other, looking over at the kids where jinx is being thrown into the pool. you sigh, and sevika huffs, and before you know what's happening she's tugging you out of your chair by the wrist and dragging you inside the house.

you're giggling and squealing as sevika runs in front of you, pulling you through the kitchen, down the hall, and into the spare bedroom where she slams the door shut behind her.

"s-sevika!" you screech as she slams your body onto the bed. she grins as she crawls on top of you.

"god i love you." she says. "can't believe you're mine. fuck i'm so lucky."

you're tearing at her clothes, tugging on her khaki shorts and shoving her muscle tee up her abdomen. she laughs as she helps you strip her, throwing her clothes behind her shoulder until she's naked on top of you.

well, naked except her tented boxers, already stained with a wet spot. you lick your lips.

"your turn." she says. you smirk and shake your head no, grabbing her hands. "no?" she asks.

"flip over." you demand. sevika grins.

"yeah?"

you nod. sevika tumbles off of you, laying flat on the bed beside you, tugging at your hips as you straddle her waist. you grin. "keep your hands here." you say, squeezing her hands with yours. she nods.

first, you slide the straps of your dress off, pulling it down over your tits, and sevika groans as they're revealed to her.

then, you reach under your skirt, pulling sevika's dick out of her boxers, and sinking down until you're grinding against it.

sevika's eyes bug out her head and she groans.

"f-fuck!" she cries. "you're not--"

"i'm not what?" you tease her, continuing to grind against her. your cunt is hot and wet, your lips parted on either side of her cock, your clit nudging her head with each of your thrusts.

"where're your panties?" she whines. you smile.

"didn't wanna wear any today." you say, shrugging. sevika gulps.

"oh my god-- this was a set up! y-you've been trying to get me fuck you all day!" sevika accuses. you laugh.

"are you mad?"

"i'm honored." she sighs. you giggle.

"remember when jinx turned five? before we had the rugrat?" you ask. sevika nods.

"wonder if this is the same bedspread." sevika giggles, one of her hands coming down to claw at the blanket beneath her. you grin.

"it's not, that one was green. you had my face pressed to that thing for forty minutes-- i remember it very well." you say. sevika laughs.

sevika's head catches on your hole, and you both whine. she tries to buck up into you and you reach down between your legs to help guide her inside of you.

"oh fuck, baby!" she whines. you giggle.

"feels good?" you ask, planting your hands on her tits as you start to slowly rock back and forth on top of her. she shudders.

"oh my god i'm gonna give you twins." sevika mumbles, staring at the ceiling in awe. you giggle, then lean forward to plant your lips on hers. she hums against you. with each rock of your hips, she lets out a sweet 'mm, mm, mm' sound in her throat.

you pull away from her mouth, gasping for air, and she stares up at you with stars in her eyes.

"i love you so fucking much." you say, stroking her cheek. sevika's hands claw at your hips as she tries to thrust up into you, your pace quickening.

"i love you too." she whines as she leans up, sucking your swaying tits into her mouth. you shudder.

the sound of slapping with each of your thrusts start to echo in the room. sevika's sucking on your tits while she bounces you on her cock, and you whimper.

"w-wore this just for you." you admit. sevika groans. "glad you like it."

"love it. love anything you wear. fuck-- but your tits sit so pretty in this one."

"'s your favorite color." sevika whines.

"fuck, fuck, yeah it is."

"you know why?" you ask. sevika's close, you can tell. her abs are twitching, her thighs are shaking, and her feet keep slipping out beneath her where she tries to get some traction on the sheets to thrust up into you.

"w-why?"

"'cause i'm yours baby. i'm all yours."

"fuck-- mine." she grunts. you nod down at her, your noses bumping. you reach back, tapping her hands still clutching at your hips.

"touch me. however you want-- whatever you need-- just cum deep inside this pussy 'n claim it, honey."

sevika growls, and with your permission, she shoves your shoulders, pins you to the bed beneath her, and spreads your legs out wide. your dress is bunched around your waist now, tits and cunt both on full display, and sevika smirks, spits on your clit, then starts hammering you.

each thrust is accompanied with a 'mine' from between her lips. sometimes, it's a 'my love', sometimes it's a 'my wife,' and when you tug her hair it's a howl and a 'the mother of my fucking children.'

when she bites your shoulder, you squeal, shakily trying to cover your mouth with your hands. sevika beats you to the punch, leaning down and shoving her tongue down your throat to muffle your cries.

you claw at her ass, and sevika pulls away from your mouth with a low, husky moan as her hips still, pressed right against you.

you never get tired of the way it feels for sevika to cum inside of you. the way she fills you so with warmth-- the way her dick twitches and jumps, the way she tries to grind closer and closer against you, until she collapses on top of you and her cum slowly trickles out of you.

oh fuck. you think as sevika grunts and slumps on top of you. you shove her shoulder. "shit-- sev." you say. she hums against you. "sev, you can't-- i don't wanna stain this dress but i don't have any panties, you gotta get up so i can--" sevika cuts you off with a kiss.

"lemme clean you up." she says. you whine.

"f-fuck, yes please."

sevika grins, her hand coming up to gently toy with your clit as she looks between your bodies. you groan.

"quit it! the second you pull out it's gonna be a mess and--"

you gasp as all at once sevika pulls out and ducks down between your legs, shoving her tongue back inside of your clenching hole. you groan.

"oh fuck!" you laugh. sevika grins at you, her eyes sparkling as she looks up at you.

she eagerly eats her cum out of you, moaning at the taste of her and the taste of you combined. she's not being effective in cleaning her mess-- if anything she's making it worse-- but with the way her tongue is pushing against your g-spot, you can't find it in you to care.

"fuck, i love you." you sigh. sevika whimpers. "i love you so much baby. you take such good fucking care of me-- you're so good with our girl-- you're perfect, honey." you say.

sevika's eyes are closed shut, a furrow between her brows. if her mouth wasn't busy, she'd be scoffing at your praises. but you've found that she's better at taking compliments when she's got her mouth full.

you reach down to trace the little wrinkle and she relaxes, blinking her eyes back open to look up at you. you smile at her.

"you're perfect." you repeat. sevika nods, her nose grinding against your clit. you shudder. "so perfect baby. gonna make me cum-- fuck, keep going." you cry. sevika reaches up to grope your tits, sinking her fingernails in the tender flesh. you groan. "my perfect wife." you sigh. sevika shivers beneath you, and you smirk, tugging on her hair.

"mine, huh?" you ask. sevika nods against you.

"mmhm." she moans.

"my wife. my baby. my lover." you whine. your thighs start to tremble and sevika's eyes are hopeful sparkling as she blinks up at you. "all mine-- a-all mine."

sevika moans again, and the vibration of her voice against your clit is what ends up tipping you over the edge.

you gasp, and before you can scream in pleasure, sevika's smacking her hand over your mouth, muffling your cries.

she doesn't let up on your cunt until you're shivering and pushing her away from you, and when she finially rises to hover above you, she's grinning.

her face is covered in a mixture of yours and her cum and her spit. her hair is a mess. you're no better-- you've got claw marks on the tops of your tits and a bite mark in your shoulder. sevika laughs down at you as you smile up at her.

"i love you." she sighs. you smile.

"i love you too." you say. she presses her lips to yours and then rises, pulling a wad of tissues out of a box on the bedside table before she gently cleans your thighs and cunt for you.

you help her redress and she helps you-- tucking your tits back into your dress and straightening your straps for you.

as you straighten out the bed spread, sevika smacks your ass.

as she leaves the bedroom, you smack hers in revenge.

you're both giggling, hand in hand as you leave the house and enter the heat of the summer again.

nobody seems to have noticed you were missing. the kids are having blast-- splashing in the pool. little fucker's sitting on claggor's shoulders, controlling him with her hands gripped in his hair.

you settle back into your lawn chairs, your abandoned drinks are warm now but still refreshing after the little work out you've just had.

sevika wraps her arm around your shoulder, and you sink into her side. the smell of cooking meat is floating across the yard, laughter and music and chatter surrounding you. you sigh in satisfaction against your wife, and she presses a kiss to your head.

(later in the night, when the kids have all slumped to sleep in the living room and the adults are gathered around table reminiscing and smoking and drinking, silco calls you out about the new bite mark you've acquired since the party started. you just shrug, smiling as sevika tries to hide her embarrassed face against your shoulder.)

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby

[thewritetofreespeech]

Night 162: Children

words: 1131 rating: G pairing: Gale x Tav summary: Gale & Tav return from the Reunion for an afternoon of tea and interrogations from his mother.

Ao3 - 1000 Night Series

---------------------------🟣----------------------------------

Summers in Waterdeep were some of the most beautiful and peaceful in Faerûn. Or so Tav had come to realize.

Baldur’s Gate was nice, with its coves & sunlit ports, but it was nothing compared to the cool breeze off the ocean. The smell of salt in the air. And, of course, the spontaneous evening trips to the shoreline to dip ones feet in cold water and warm sand her husband.

Not that Tav didn’t miss her old home of the Gate. She enjoyed visiting and catching up with old friends. Extending the trip for the party to stop in on the way back to catch up with those who had not been able to attend. The couple had actually just gotten back from their vacation a few days ago, and Gale was regaling his mother on his latest find at Sorcerous Sundries.

“Can you believe it mother?? A real, genuine first edition Arcana Archivist Annals. Practically mint condition!”

“I suppose it helps to know the proprietor, and have his life indebted to you.” Morena remarked as she finished pouring the tea and handed Tav the first cup.

“The 10% educators discount doesn’t hurt either.” The two of women chuckle as Gale huffed and flopped back into his mother’s patio chair with a ‘no one understands me’ sulk.

“And how was the rest of your trip, dear? Surely it wasn’t all books.”

“If Gale had his way….” The man in question glared playfully at her. “But no. It was good to see how the city has grown after the rebuild. It’s odd. It’s all brand new in most cases, but strangely the same. Wyll and his father have done a splendid job of reworking the internal structure of the city as well. He’s done well as Grand Duke.”

“Good to have friends in high places. Not just book shops.” The trio laughed at Gale’s quip this time. Not just at him.

“And there’s…..nothing else to report?” Morena asked inquisitively. Which peaked Gale’s interest.

“No. Unless you want to know more about the weather.” He remarked before collecting his tea. “Is there something specific you wanted to know about our trip, mother? It’s not like you to be coy.”

“Very well. I was hoping while you were away for some time, you might return to tell me your pregnant.” Gale choked hard on his tea and floundered with the fine china for a moment. “I guess not….”

“Pregnant!” Gale replied aghast. “Why would you think we’re pregnant!?”

“Not really thought so much as hoped.” Morena clarified. “I’d very much like a grandchild.”

Gale turned to Tav in a manner for some sort of help, but she was too stunned as well by the conversations to offer any. “We…We haven’t been married that long…”

“Your father and I were married about as long as the two of you when you came into the picture.” The older woman noted. “Besides, it’s not just that. The Dekarios family needs an heir. Surely, you’ve thought about the future of our line.”

Gale shifted from flabbergasted to embarrassed. “Well, I uh….”

“Gale!”

“Well, I’ve been a little busy mother. Saving the world from an Elder Brain and trying not to turn into a mind flayer. Now trying not to get my head blown off by pre-teen wizards. Teaching children does not really rally one to the experience.” Tav had to agree there.

Gale sighed and sat back in his chair again. “What brought all this on mother? This is a lot to…spring on a person.”

“Well, I was thinking about it while you were away and thought I’d ask about your future plans. Neither one of us is getting any younger, dear.” There was a lot of secret conversation going on between the Dekarios kin in that moment as Morena sipped her own teacup. “The two of you should really start thinking about it. Children are a blessing.”

“I agree with Mr. Dekarios.” The people at the table turned as Tara floated onto the patio. Landing delicately on a pillow that was clearly always there for her. “Children are loud, destructive, and impatient little creatures. Like imps, but with better table manners. Or at least one hopes.” The Tressym licked her paw as if to make a point. “You shouldn’t have them.”

“So the Dekarios line just ends with Gale?” Morena asked as a counterpoint.

“Certainly. Better to go out with a bang. Oh, apologies. Was that insensitive?”

Gale groaned and stood up from his chair. “If this conversation is going to continue, I’m going to need something stronger than tea to get through it.” He walked back into his childhood home and straight for the bar.

Tav followed after him while Morena & Tara talk. Her presence in the discussions of their futures seeming not to be a requirement at all. “Are you ok?”

“Hm? Oh. Yes. I’m fine. A little taken aback though.” Gale commented as he inspected one of the bottles and sat it back down. “Don’t worry. I’m not rattled enough to be driven to drink. Just needed to get away.”

“I can certainly sympathy.”

“But my mother….Gods! Springing that on us like that. To force our hands to make a such a decision over biscuits. I never realized she was so cunning.”

Tav chuckle at his remark, but then got serious for a second. “You know….we’ve never talked about it….”

Gale turned to her with an inquisitive, then surprised, look. “Oh…I mean do you want…do you want to….”

She shrugged. “I’m not against children.” What seemed like eons ago, the former adventurer thought about a life long in the future where she would be settled with a family, including children. With everything that happened that dream was lost until she could catch her breath. Now that she had, Tav wondered if it might be time to take that dream off the shelf again. “I don’t think right now. But….yes.”

Gale seemed taken aback for a moment, but only a little. He then seemed to think on it, nod, then gave her a smile. “I feel that way too. Not now, of course. But not never.” The two of them reach out to take each other’s hands. “I quite like that it’s just the two of us right now.”

“I do too.” Tav agreed.

“That is not what I meant at all Tara! You are twisting my words!”

“Your words are already twisted with that harpy’s tongue of yours Morena!”

Gale sighed as he looked towards the open door. “Well…almost just the two of us….”

Tav snickered and squeeze his hand a little tighter. “Come on. Let’s break them up before they say something they don’t mean.”

“Tara just implied my mother was a harpy. I think that ship has sailed.”

[keehomania]

MARK LEE (마크리) — BBF (DRABBLE)

✧.* MINORS DNI (18+)

there was something so appealing about having something you couldn’t. in this case, someone. you didn’t spend too much time wondering, asking why things were the way they were, you knew you had to go to the flow. maybe it was wrong, maybe you lacked morals and the right mind. maybe you just liked the chase, the thrill of it. whatever it was, you were in for it. you were so fucking in for it.

MARK LEE was insatiable. you didn’t understand at first but, then again, you didn’t pay much attention, and neither did he. you were used to your older brother bringing him around, an entire group of his friends huddled together. whether it was in his room, the living room, or outside, they were constantly there, a joint nuisance during your pre-teen years. you were just as much of a nusiance, bugging them, pestering them with whatever seemed to be on your mind at the time. you’d get a couple laughs, even if they were forced, but it was only right. you were their best friend’s baby sister, and they didn't mind you too much. they thought you were adorable, like a cute version of your brother. no matter how it seemed to you, what you felt for mark was just puppy love. it wasn’t something anybody found weird, as obvious as it was. you clung to him, laughed at his shitty jokes, and everybody found it adorable. there was nothing serious to it.

those years flew by faster than any of you had anticipated. a few summers later and you had grown into a beautiful, mature woman. you had put all the more care into your body, your studies, and your career. your brother often joked that he couldn’t recognize you, that you had grown up way too fast. he wasn’t far off, actually. you had spent a few summers away, studying abroad in greece for shits and giggles. the distance wasn’t as ideal as the progress, but you didn't regret a thing.

you came back a changed woman, and you were more than pleased with yourself. you missed korea more than anything, even the less than pleasantries that came with it. your brother was the first to greet you, embracing you in a big hug the minute you came in. he hadn’t seen you in years, and he was more than stunned with the outcome. “wow, you've gotten uglier,” he joked as he ruffled your hair. you only rolled your eyes at him, slapping his shoulder lightly. “you haven't changed at all, i see.” he mocked your words, sticking his tongue out after to emphasize one thing—just because you had changed doesn't mean everybody else did.

when it was time for his friends to come around, you realized just how little everything else had changed. your brother and his friends stuck to their usual routine, just like when they were younger. you didn’t think much of it, even though the thought of mark still lingered in your mind. you did your best to push it aside, reminding yourself that whatever it was you felt—you felt it ages ago. you were a kid, it was puppy love, and you didn't know any better.

when they finally came around, they made themselves comfortable in the backyard. your brother had informed them of your return, and they were ecstatic to see you, to see how you were doing. to see if you had changed, to see if you were dating, thought one of them in particular. the first thing that you did was dash out of the house to greet them. there were whoops of approval, a few warm hugs and handshakes, all mingling in the air with a few cheers of, “we missed you” and “you've changed so much.” you were thrilled with the feedback, taking in every bit of what everybody had to say. all but one.

mark didn’t know what exactly it was that he was expecting to see when you walked out. your brother spoke highly of your change, saying it was like you had matured overnight, but mark took his words with a grain of salt. he managed to stay afloat despite his anticipation, until you had finally revealed yourself. his knuckled turned white with the force of his fingers clutching his seat, yet he couldn’t utter a word. everyone was able to say something, to greet you, everyone but him. the words were there, he knew exactly what it was he wanted to say, but they refused to come out.

you met his gaze swiftly, failing to realize the sheer tension behind them, even as everybody quieted down. “hey, markie,” you approached him with a soft smile, standing on your toes as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “missed you so much.” he felt as if time had come to a halt, his body growing more warm and more intense with every passing second. he felt the way your arms enveloped him, and all he could smell was you. it was a familiar scent, a comforting one tinted with vanilla and cinnamon.

he finally forced himself to hug you back, his arms snaking around your waist. “missed you more, (y/n).” fuck, was he grateful to have finally said something, anything. it was when you finally pulled away that he finally got a good look at you, at what he had been missing out on for years on end. your brother had sugarcoated his praise and approval, you had changed in ways that felt vulgar to say aloud. it was the way the european sun had done you justice, lightening your hair and tanning your skin. he found himself face-to-face with said justice, the white tan lines peeking under your tank top giving him all the indication.

he saw it in the way your eyes beamed with something foreign, something that wasn’t childlike nor pure. it was something dangerous, something intimidating that forced his gaze to lock with yours, decorated by black strokes of eyeliner. it was in the way the tank top hung from your body, hovering just above your belly button—no, something hovering just above your pierced belly button. fuck, he could feel it now, in all the wrong places. it was in the way he could see your hard nipples under the sheer top, visible with the cold air brushing over them. it was in the way your short were too tight and, well, too short, hanging just an inch below your ass. he felt disgusting for looking, and he knew it was obvious.

“i’m gonna go back inside,” you announced aloud to everyone, but yours eyes never left mark. neither did the stupid smirk playing on your lips, fuck, maybe not everything changed. “it’s getting a little cold for me.” everybody murmured hums of approval, nothing too special, but mark was frozen in his spot. he watched you as you turned back around and went back inside, his eyes glazing over everything—the way your hair shifted, your shoulderblades, the curve of your back, and your ass. he felt awful, but he couldn't help himself. everything that seemed cute years ago no longer seemed cute.

“you better watch yourself, mark lee,” your brother cut through the silence as he sipped his beer, his tone accusatory in a playful way. “she’s still my baby sister.”

you were his baby sister, that was the only thing that hadn’t changed. what really changed was mark. he held it off for as long as he could, telling himself it didn’t matter, that you were both young and didn't understand what feelings were. you still didn’t understand, neither of you did, but feelings didn't matter anymore. you didn’t have to understand feelings to understand hormones.

“it’s weird seeing you drink,” you couldn't bite back the smirk playing on your face as you heard his voice. you leaned forward, arms crossed against the kitchen counter as you sipped your beer. it was like you had anticipated his arrival from the second you walked back into the house, it almost felt calculated. you didn’t turn back around, you could feel his presence, his gaze. “really weird.”

you hummed in response as you sipped your drink. you looked up at the window in front of you, locking eyes with his reflection, the smirk never leaving your face. “i’m full of surprises, right?” you practically purred, leaning forward as the straps of your top spilled down your shoulders. he felt the strain in his pants, one he prayed you wouldn't notice as his gaze flickered between your eyes and the valley of your cleavage, now all the more visible to him.

he tried to distract himself, to stop himself from giving in. his eyes fell to the floor, falling on a can of beer that either could’ve fallen to the floor, or been meticulously placed there. mark didn't know better, he never knew better. “you dropped a can,” he didn’t mean for his voice to tremble as much as it did, but it was too late. he was like a mouse in a room full of traps.

your smirk didn't falter as your gaze dropped to the can that you had placed by your feet. “you’re right,” you murmured as you sunk down. your legs remained upright, upper body bending down as you grabbed the can. you didn’t hear the way he cussed under his breath, but you didn’t need to. you saw it in his eyes as they dropped to your ass, the material of your shorts stuffed in between the mound of flesh, giving him the view he had been silently praying for. “didn't even notice.”

he wasn’t sure what it was that finally did it for him, but he had just about enough. you had turned your back to him once more, as if you were oblivious to what you were doing, but he caught the smirk on your face. it was just about enough to piss him off. his footsteps were heavy as he approached you, his breath hitching slightly as he bent down. his chest was tight, his heart thumping against his ribcage like a drum. “you’re really pushing it, aren’t you?” he spoke, his voice gruff with irritation. you scoffed, your hand grabbing his arm for balance as you turned, your clothed breasts brushing against his forearm.

you finally turned to face him, a glint in your eye. “pushing what exactly?” your tone was playful, taunting even. you had always been a tease, but now it was different. it wasn’t the same playful banter from when you were younger, it was something more, something that had his blood boiling.

his eyes searched yours, looking for any semblance of innocence he might've missed. he found none. “you know what i’m talking about,” he breathed, his hand hovering over your arm for a second too long. your skin felt hot under his touch, and he knew you felt it too. “gonna do something we’ll both regret.”

you leaned in closer, your breath grazing his cheek. “you think?” your voice was a whisper, filled with challenge. “i’m not a little girl anymore, mark.” your hand found its way to his chest, feeling the thump of his heart beneath his shirt. his eyes narrowed, the reminder hitting too close to home. “you're my best friend's baby sister,” he practically snapped, his frustration reaching a peak. his anger was misdirected, and he was aware of that. what he should’ve done was remind himself of the facts, the same facts that seemed to fight the tent in his pants. you stepped back, feigning innocence as you sipped from your can.

his gaze dropped to your mouth, watching the way your lips wrapped around the can. he could feel his resolve slipping away, his body begging him to do something, anything, to get closer to you. “it’s wrong,” he said, the words feeling foreign as they left his mouth. you set your beer down, a knowing smile playing on your lips. “is it?” your hand reached up, playing with the strands of your hair.

his hand shot out, grabbing yours before it could reach your hair. “your brother,” he began, his voice strained. “your brother would kill me.”

you stepped closer again, your hand still in his grasp. “he’ll never find out,” you whispered, your eyes never leaving his. you leaned in, pressing your body against his. “no one’s gonna find out.”

his eyes darkened, his grip on your hand tightening. “we shouldn't,” he warned, his voice barely above a whisper. “you're playing with fire.” you leaned in even closer, your tits pressing against his chest. “maybe i like getting burned,” you murmured, your other hand reaching up to trace his jawline.

his control snapped. he crushed his mouth against yours, his tongue delving deep, tasting every part of you. his hands roamed your body, feeling every curve and dip. you moaned into his mouth, your body responding instinctively to his touch. the kitchen floor was cold under your bare feet as you stepped out of your shorts, his eyes dark with lust as he took in the sight of you. “mark,” you whimpered, pulling him closer. his response was to lift you onto the counter, your legs wrapping around his waist. he didn’t hesitate, his hand reaching into your panties, feeling the wetness that had been building up since you saw him again. “so eager,” he murmured against your neck, his teeth grazing your skin.

you pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it aside, revealing his muscular chest. your hands roamed over his biceps, taking in the warmth of his skin. “fuck,” you breathed as he kissed down your neck, his teeth scraping against your sensitive skin.

his hand found your tits, his thumb flicking over your hardened nipples as his free hand worked on your panties. you arched your back, pushing yourself closer to him. “mark,” you repeated, your voice needy. his mouth found your nipple, sucking and biting gently, making you gasp. his other hand found your clit, rubbing it in slow circles. “shit, you’re so wet,” he murmured, his voice filled with disbelief as your juices coated his finger, leaving his nail slick and shiny.

you were lost in the feeling, your hips bucking against his hand. “please,” you begged, your voice a desperate whine. he complied, his hand moving faster, his teeth biting down harder. then, he pulled away, leaving you panting, your eyes glazed with desire. “not yet,” he said, his voice low and commanding. “i wanna see all of you.”

you didn’t argue, letting him pull your tank top over your head, revealing your bare breasts. “just like that, fuck,” he murmured, his eyes roaming over the flesh of your tits, stopping at the sight of the metal piercing that clung to your belly button. every bit of it helped him see you in a different light, a light that made his cock painfully hard in his pants. he took in the sight of you, so needy, messy and on display for him. it was wrong and he knew it, but he was too entranced to care anymore.

his hand snuck up to your mouth, his thumb pressing into your lower lip as he stared into your eyes. “you're so fucking tempting,” he groaned, the words slipping out despite his better judgment. you took his thumb into your mouth, sucking lightly before speaking, “so are you.” it was all the invitation he needed.

his hand moved down to the button of his pants, the sound of his zipper echoing through the kitchen. he stepped closer, his cock springing free, thick and long. you took in the sight of him, licking your lips, your eyes wide with anticipation. “are you sure about this?” he asked, his voice hoarse with desire. “more than you’ll ever know,” you replied, your voice just as breathless.

his hand moved behind your head, tangling in your hair, pulling you closer to him. your eyes never left his as he guided his cock to your mouth, the tip teasing your lower lip. you parted your lips, letting him in, feeling the warmth and hardness of him on your tongue. his grip tightened, his hips bucking slightly as you took him in deeper. your eyes watered slightly, but you didn’t care. you liked the way he felt, the way he filled your mouth. you liked the way his breath hitched, the way his eyes rolled back.

you moved your head back, letting his dick fall out of your mouth with a wet pop. “so fucking pretty like this,” he murmured, his voice strained with lust.

his hand left your hair, moving to the small of your back, pressing you closer as he kissed you again. you could feel his length pressing against your stomach, leaving a wet trail against your belly button as it slid down to your pussy. your hand found its way to his cock, stroking him gently. “you’re gonna get me all dirty,” you murmured against his lips, your voice teasing. “you want it clean?” he responded, a hint of mischief in his tone. “maybe later,” you replied, your hand moving faster, your thumb smearing precum over the tip of his cock.

his hands moved to your ass, cupping the flesh, his fingers digging into your skin as he pulled you closer. you could feel his cock sliding through your folds, the head brushing against your clit. “mark,” you moaned, your legs tightening around his waist. “i know,” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. “i know you want it.”

he didn’t wait for you to respond, didn't wait for permission. he pushed into you, filling you in one swift motion. you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders. “fuck,” you whispered, the pain mixing with pleasure. he stilled, giving you a moment to adjust to his size. you took a deep breath, looking into his eyes. “more,” you demanded, your voice needy.

his thrusts grew deeper, harder, his cock sliding in and out of you with ease. the kitchen counter was cold against your back, but you didn’t care. all you could feel was the heat between your legs, the way his cock filled you up, the way his hands held onto you like you were his. “you're so fucking tight,” he groaned, his hips moving with a ferocity that had you seeing stars.

you met each of his thrusts with your own, your body moving in sync with his. “fuck me harder,” you begged, your voice strained. he complied, his hips slamming into you, the sound of skin on skin filling the room. you could feel yourself getting closer, your orgasm building like a storm inside of you. “mark, i’m gonna—"”

his hand came down, colliding with the flesh of your ass, the sound echoing through the kitchen. “not yet,” he grunted, his rhythm not faltering. “i’m not done with you.” you moaned, your body responding to his dominance. he reached around, his thumb finding your clit, rubbing it in circles as he fucked you. you knew it was risky, but the thrill of it only made you want it more. he was lost in the pleasure, the morbidly amazing feeling of your cunt milking everything he had to give you. his cock was big, hitting all the right places that had you clawing at his back. he held you in place, arms draped around your waist as he drilled into you. he made sure one hand toyed with the flesh of your ass, gripping and probing hard enough to paint bruises. his other hand roamed over your tits, kneading the flesh as his thumb tugged at your nipples, but his curiosity got the better of him.

he couldn’t help the way his hand dropped to your stomach, fingertips tracing the piercing. he loved the way the light adorned the material, it was like eye candy to him. he kept his hand there as he pounded into you, the realization of just how big he was compared to you dawning upon him. it had to do with how your cunt struggled to take him whole, the outline of his cock practically under the skin of your stomach. he was entranced by it, thrusting into you just a little harder to really see it. you were so small compared to him, yet there you were, taking him whole. he placed his palm ovee your stomach as he continued to tear your pussy apart, his hand clasped over the outline of his cock. it was like he was jacking himself off, while he was inside you.

the pressure grew as his pace quickened, your body tightening around him. “please, ’m gonna cum,” you whimpered, your voice a mix of pleasure and pain. “do it,” he urged, his hand pressing down harder on your stomach. your eyes squeezed shut as your orgasm crashed over you, your body shaking with the intensity of it. he groaned, his thrusts growing more erratic as he chased his own release. “gonna fill this pussy up,” he warned, his voice strained. “please,” you moaned, your cunt clenching around him.

his cock swelled, pulsing as he came inside you, his cum filling you up. your legs tightened around his waist, your body trembling with the aftershocks of your climax. your breath came put ragged and harsh, your chest heaving as his cum spilled down your thighs. he leaned into you, his forehead pressing against yours.

you could feel his heart racing against your chest, his breath hot and ragged in your ear. “what now?” he whispered, his voice filled with uncertainty. “now, we clean up,” you replied, your voice low and sultry, your hand reached down, wrapping around his still hard cock. “and maybe we do it again,” you suggested, your eyes never leaving his.

his eyes searched yours, looking for any sign of regret or hesitation. what he found was a spark of excitement, a challenge. “you’re insatiable,” he murmured, his voice filled with awe. “a little bit,” you replied, your smile widening. “now, get me off this counter before i get a bruise.”

he chuckled, his grip on your ass tightening as he lifted you off the counter. your legs wrapped around his waist, your arms around his neck. “where to?” he asked, his voice still thick with lust. “my room,” you murmured, your eyes half-lidded. “we have all night.”

✧.*

[viennakarma]

i was thinking of the ending where the reader moves on!! i was interested in what luna would think happened bc i thought she would see that lewis is still clearly in love with her mom but her mom obviously moved onto to fernando.

but i am biased to the ending where reader forgives lewis (bc lewis is my main man <3 hehe) so i really appreciate that perspective!! i do feel like even tho reader has forgiven and moved on by the time luna’s a teen, lewis would low key still carry that guilt. he seems emotionally driven for sure (to me) and he was dreading the day luna found out bc she eventually would, in the age of social media

i would love your thoughts on lewis’ perspective as well (either when it happened or when luna asks him about it) bc as someone who went thru something similar (we were never dating but it still hurt lmao) i still cannot wrap my head around the betrayal even tho it was years ago at this point. so seeing lewis still be in love w reader and truly regret his actions heals a part of me even tho this is fiction hahahahaha.

love your writing btw ❤️❤️❤️

ohhhh thank you so much! I also went through something similar (i guess that's why say something feels so raw to read and all over the place with emotions)

so you wanted to know how lewis would carry that guilt after losing the woman of his life? (evil laugh) it sparked me to write a bit, so here it goes: (keep in mind the post wreck my plans headcanons)

((also, written in the format you = reader))

Growing up, Luna had slowly become aware of her father's feelings for her mom. She knew the story, they had fallen out of love, divorced when you were pregnant with Luna. But as she became a pre-teen, and a teen, she started to really pay attention to the way Lewis looked at you. During her school games, Luna was a midfielder in football, she'd notice how Lewis' gaze would linger on you, the longing almost unbearable for a couple of seconds before he was able to scold his expression and look away. When Fernando arrived, wrangling Luna's younger siblings, Lewis would go back to his normal, polite self. When he'd drop Luna off at your house, Luna would notice the way Lewis stared from his car, looking at you and Fernando playing with the children in the backyard, using water balloons under the heat of the summer, how you'd embrace Luna and immediately let her join in the game. Luna started to grow aware of this, and by the age 15, she'd be completely sure that her dad still had feelings for you, and she would know that you had no feelings for him. Because the way Lewis looked at you was the way you looked at Fernando.

Luna decided to dig up, one night. She had a limited and monitored access to the internet ever since she was little, and with the years, she just wasn’t big on internet and social media, rather spending time with her siblings, her friends and family or her many hobbies. But with google, it didn’t take long for her to find a specific video. It was at a press conference, back when her dad was a racing driver, someone asked him what his thoughts were on his ex-wife, Luna’s mom, dating Fernando, a fellow racing driver.

Luna stared at her dad in the video, the dim in his eyes when he said his marriage had ended for unrelated reasons and that he was the only one to blame, since his loyalty as a husband had faltered and he was the one to fail the vows he had made to you. Luna closed her laptop with a slam. She wasn’t dumb. She was fifteen and loved English classes. She knew what he meant with loyalty faltering.

She got upset, she had never thought cheating was the reason for the divorce, not when you and Lewis had told her that they fell out of love. She grew moody for a couple of days, short tempered and rude, you and Fernando had thought it was only teenager moodiness, so you let Luna be. When she confronted you, two days later, she spilled the truth of what she had found out, Fernando, sensing the moment, took Vicenzo and Benny to his family’s place for the weekend, knowing you and Luna had a big conversation coming.

You explained to Luna what had happened, why you were the one to divorce Lewis. But you were kind, always reminding her that her dad had always been a good father, always taking care of Luna and how you and Lewis loved her no matter what. After that talk, Luna got calmer, but she asked you to not go to her father the following week as they had agreed on. Lewis was distraught when you called him to inform that Luna wasn’t going to his house that week and she didn’t wanna go camping as planned anymore. When you told him over the phone that Luna had found out… you could hear him crying.

After giving Luna a week to give her space, Lewis went to your house to find her. They decided to finally go on that camping trip under the condition that he’d answer all of Luna’s questions about what had happened.

She was silent for most of the trip. Once they arrived at the cabin, they sat in the backyard, Lewis lit up a bonfire and Luna and him sat around it, burning marshmallows in the fire.

“Do you regret it?” Luna asked, breaking the silence. Lewis exhaled for a second.

“Every waking moment,” His voice faltered.

“Why, then?” She muttered, looking straight into the fire.

“I don’t know. Back then I had been upset, having had a couple of bad seasons in Formula 1, feeling useless, feeling like I wasn’t able to do the one thing I knew how. I had a couple of drinks, and someone from my past showed up… And I made a mistake that cost me my happiness, my future and the love of my life. Looking back now, all of those were silly reasons for doing what I did. They weighed nothing compared to your mom and our marriage…” His voice was wet with tears and Luna didn’t have the heart to look at his face yet, “Your mom, she even tried to fix things for a few weeks after I confessed. But I could see… I could see the love she had for me dying more and more every single time. When we signed the divorce, she was already pregnant with you. We decided to become friends to co-parent for you.”

After some silence, Luna looked at Lewis, the tears in his face.

“Will you forgive me?”

“Of course,” She reached out, wiping his cheeks of tears. He closed his eyes, a weight leaving his shoulders at the acceptance and she hugged him. Lewis couldn’t help but see you in Luna, in her caring embrace and her forgiveness.

After a few quiet moments, Luna pulled back.

“How… How was life when you two were married? You know, before all this?” Luna asked, “Mom never talks about it.”

“Why do you wanna know, baby? It’ll only hurt you…”

“Because I have no idea how it was.”

So he told Luna about random things of those few years you were married. He told her how you’d draw and leave charcoal stains everywhere, and how upset he’d be, Luna would tell him you rarely ever use charcoal nowadays, but every few weeks Fernando buys you new colors of paint and asks you to paint him something. Luna told Lewis how all of Fernando’s offices are full of colorful paints you made him.

Everything Lewis told her, Luna would counter with how things were nowadays. And each time it hurt his heart a little. Fernando didn’t make you travel around the world anymore, Fernando helped you take care of the garden, supporting you most recent hobbies, Fernando who gifted you with a little rescue kitten, a scruffy little thing you had always wanted but didn’t get because the kids were too small back in the day.

Lewis started to see how he had failed you many times even when you were married, even before the cheating. How he had been unsupportive of your hobbies, of your career, of your wishes.

He knew he’d spend the rest of his life wishing he could come back to that one fateful night and never get in a hotel room with that woman. He’d know what to do now. He’d know how to go home straight to you, how to cherish you, how to support you.

But it was too late, and you had found someone who did all that without the need to make a mistake to value you for who you are.

note: damn, this really ran away from my hands too phew

[shadowtriovibes]

Hello,

Can you write some shameless pre-relationship Sebastian x mc flirting? Like pining, comparing hand sizes, teasing about height, all that cringe cute stuff! Just go off on that however you like!

hello anon!! here's a quick 1.5k pg-rated words for you because i'd just started a little drabble of MC working at j pippin's for the summer and it turned into two goofy teens in love 🥹

edit: i felt like this deserved a name so i'm calling it "the potioneer's apprentice" and i personally love a potion-loving MC characterization very much so i may return to this 'verse later on xoxo

"I happen to know that you can make a perfectly good batch of Wiggenweld yourself," you point out. Sebastian watches distractedly while you untie your hair, shaking it loose as it falls down to your shoulders. "W-well, yours is better," he insists. "Always has been, even Sharp said so." "It's even better now," you say proudly, pulling one of the bottles out of your bag to hand to him. "...You're not actually hurt, are you?" "No, just bored," he admits. "I wanted to see you."

Staring down at the order slip in your hands, you bite the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling.

Mr. Sebastian Sallow Feldcroft Hamlet

x3 Wiggenweld x1 Focus x1 Felix Felicis

“Simple enough,” Parry Pippin says cheerfully, tucking a knut into the pocket of the postal owl that had just dropped off your latest order. “I’ll put together the Liquid Luck, I know that’s a tricky one.”

Bustling over to his potions station, he adds, “I trust brewing the Wiggenweld and Focus draughts should be no problem for you?”

“Of course,” you say, quickly tying up your hair before lighting a fire beneath the cauldron at your own station.

You’ve been an apprentice at J. Pippin’s Potions for just over a month, refining your potions skills over the summer break – and helping keep an eye on things in Hogsmeade. In that time, your brewing skills have improved significantly, and Parry is more than happy to pass on some of the simpler potions to you.

Attempting to be casual, you ask, “Will this be a delivery?”

“Oh, I should think so,” Parry confirms. “Though it’s not exactly my neck of the woods.”

“Would you like me to drop it off?” you offer hopefully.

“How about this,” Parry offers. “I’ll send you down to the hamlet to drop these off, and then you can call it a day.”

“Thank you, Mister Pippin,” you say with a grin.

Your boss smiles approvingly as you carefully pour some horklump juice into your cauldron, precisely tapping the side of the bottle as he’d taught you.

“Besides,” he says cheekily. “I think this is the third time this month that young mister Sallow has ordered from my shop and requested delivery, even though Fatimah’s shop is much closer.”

You nearly spill the entire bottle.

“Any idea why a Hogwarts student on summer break would need so many potions?” Parry asks, smirking to himself as he pours some lacewing flies into his cauldron.

“W-well, I – I suppose he could be clumsy,” you mumble unconvincingly. “O-or stocking up, perhaps. We’ve got N.E.W.T. classes next term, some of these spells are quite challenging, a-and the beasts, we’ve got Grindylows to examine, you know how they bite…”

You trail off feebly, blushing a bright red. The Wiggenweld potion in your cauldron signals its completion with a puff of smoke, offering a welcome distraction.

“Aye, of course,” Parry murmurs, sounding very much like he doesn’t believe you in the slightest. “In any case, as soon as you finish that Focus potion I’ll send you on your way.”

Quickly ladling three portions of Wiggenweld into Parry's glass vials, you scrub out your cauldron and prepare the last draught, wrinkling your nose at the smell of dugbog tongue. Once it starts to smoke and bubble, you measure out a generous portion and collect the Felix Felicis from your boss, tucking the lot into your satchel.

“Please thank young Sebastian for his order, and tell him I said good day,” Parry tells you with a wink. “And to kindly stop pilfering my apprentice so often.”

“Yes, sir,” you reply sheepishly.

Outside the shop, you trek outside the boundaries of Hogsmeade to hop onto your broom and head south toward Feldcroft. It had been more than a week since you’d seen Sebastian, which felt like an eternity compared to how often you saw him during the school year.

One month into your break and you feel like a simpering wreck.

You miss him like crazy – not that you’d tell him like that, of course. He’s your closest friend, and the two of you have been through so much together in the past two years. You aren’t about to ruin it by confessing that you’re hopelessly in love with him.

—

Sebastian is not moping.

And even if he was, why shouldn’t he mope? He’s alone, it’s swelteringly hot in the hamlet and he hasn’t seen his best friend in a week.

He’s bored, and when Sebastian gets bored, he gets creative.

Really, it’s almost too easy to summon you to Feldcroft. All it took was a quick trip to see the owl post stand and another superfluous order for some potions (with a little bit of Liquid Luck thrown in on a whim), and he knew you’d arrive by the time the heat broke.

He conveniently manages to be tending to his small garden when you touch down beside the Sallow home, his sleeves rolled up past his elbows while he pats some dirt around a sprig of fluxweed.

“Sallow?” You call out teasingly. “I have an order here for Sebastian Sallow?”

“Must be a lazy bloke, ordering all those Wiggenwelds instead of making them himself,” he answers, sitting back on his heels and wiping some sweat away from his brow with the back of his wrist. “Or perhaps just daft.”

“I happen to know that you can make a perfectly good batch of Wiggenweld yourself,” you point out.

Sebastian watches distractedly while you untie your hair, shaking it loose as it falls down to your shoulders.

“W-well, yours is better,” he insists. “Always has been, even Sharp said so.”

“It’s even better now,” you say proudly, pulling one of the bottles out of your bag to hand to him. “...You’re not actually hurt, are you?”

“No, just bored,” he admits. “I wanted to see you.”

If Ominis were here, he’d likely pick up on how those words make your heart race a little faster, but mercifully, Sebastian does not.

“Here I am,” you say. “And I’m all yours for the day, Mister Pippin gave me the rest of the day off.”

“Oh, really?” he replies, brushing some stray dirt off of his trousers as he stands up. “Whatever could we get up to with an entire afternoon?”

You blink in surprise as he stands, realizing for the first time that Sebastian has gotten taller.

“What?” he asks, catching your gaze.

“You’ve grown,” you say dumbly. “I – I mean, you’re tall.”

“Am I?” he asks, a teasing smirk on his lips. “Perhaps you’re just short.”

“I am not short,” you protest, following Sebastian as he leads the way into the old Sallow home.

It feels different now, obviously. Less like a family home and more like a chaotic bachelor pad, Sebastian’s strewn-about books and haphazard notes covering up a distinct lack of coziness.

It’s only for the summer, Sebastian had told you the first time you’d seen it.

(You know he doesn’t really have anywhere else to go anymore, what with the Gaunt household becoming more toxic by the day. You wouldn’t be surprised to find Ominis squatting there as well by the time July rolls around.)

“You’re practically pocket-sized,” Sebastian teases, closing the door behind you to keep some of the midday sun out. “I think it’s why you’re so powerful – it’s concentrated, your magic.”

You scoff and shove at his shoulder, wondering to yourself when he became so broad.

It had only been a few weeks since school had let out, hadn’t it? And suddenly Sebastian was walking around in a man’s body, one you were sure wasn’t there in Charms class in May. Or maybe it was, hiding beneath his suit jacket and his robes…

You blink rapidly to clear your head.

“Um. Your potions,” you mumble, pulling the rest of the bottles out of your satchel and placing them on the front room table.

Then you can’t help but ask, “What’s the Felix Felicis for?”

“Not sure yet,” Sebastian admits. “But I’m sure it will come in handy at some point.”

You hum under your breath, picking up the delicate vial and examining it in the light.

“Hand it over,” Sebastian demands with a laugh. “I don’t like the way you’re looking at that bottle, I know what temptation looks like on your face.”

Blushing, you place the vial in his outstretched hand, letting your own hand linger a beat too long. Sebastian quickly catches your wrist, turning your hand palm-side up.

“Merlin’s beard, your hand is small,” he observes.

“Not this again,” you groan.

“I’m being serious, you hold your wand with this tiny thing?” he jokes. “Poor Ollivander had his work cut out for him.”

“Let’s see yours, then,” you insist, holding your hand up to him. “Go on.”

Sebastian presses his palm against yours and you raise your eyebrows. His hand dwarfs yours to the degree that he could wrap the tips of his fingers overtop yours if he wanted to.

“See?” he says, his voice suddenly much quieter in the empty home. “Tiny.”

“And yet I can still beat you in a duel,” you retort, trying to calm your racing heart.

Just like that, the tension in the room dissolves away and Sebastian lights up.

“A duel, hmm?” he echoes. “Is that an offer?”

“Seriously? That’s what you want to do today?” you laugh. “It’s thirty degrees outside and you want to duel?”

“We could practice on the training dummies,” he offers hopefully. “You know you want to.”

…Damn him, he’s right.

“Fine,” you relent. “But if I sweat through this chemise, it’s your head, Sallow.”

Sebastian tries very hard to not think about you in a sweat-soaked white shirt as you lead him back outside, and if he trips over the doorframe on his way out, he’s happy to let you continue to assume it’s just his clumsy streak.

[jamesandthedog]

"She's cute, right?" James asks.

He's staring across the room.

Sirius moves his knight on the chess board and follows James' gaze. He laughs when he sees the red-head Lily Evans chatting with her friends on the other side of their common room.

"What?" James asks.

Sirius glances at him.

They're thirteen and it's the first time James really talks about girls. And even if girls and dates and kisses are new and not particularly something Sirius is interested in, he knows the rules. He was taught before he even understood what dating a girl meant.

"She's a Muggleborn," Sirius shrugs as he states the obvious.

"So?"

There's defiance in James voice, it reminds Sirius of the times he used to refer the likes of Lily Evans with much worse vocabulary. It was James and their friends to make him change his ways.

Sirius sighs.

"It's fine by me," he says, honestly. "But I doubt your parents would approve."

James frowns. At first Sirius thinks he's acknowledged the problem and trying to come up with a way to pursuit his crush without his parents ever finding out. And really, how could they, James doesn't have cousins to tell on him.

But it's not that. James looks at him the way he does when he's trying to read deep into his mind. Like James did when they had their first discussions about blood supremacy. Or when Sirius was walking funny after last summer break. He had hurt his back falling down the stairs after an argument with his mother, but that wasn't the sort of thing to discuss with... Anyone really.

James' expression clears, he leans back and makes his move on the chess board.

"Your parents want you to marry a pureblood," James states.

Sirius shrugs.

"Of course. Yours don't?"

"Dad would probably prefer if I'd marry a Muggleborn. She could teach him how to use the Muggle box he bought for warming up food," James says.

Sirius stares at him, and it has nothing to do with the said Muggle device. He'd look more surprised, but he learned to hide his feelings years ago.

He knows James' family thinks Muggleborns can do anything a pureblood can. But it's one thing to treat people equally on the streets, another to break something as holy as the pure bloodline.

Sirius had thought marrying a pureblood was given, a duty, a fact, something every pureblood did. But here he is, looking at the heir of the Potter family - an heir who clearly doesn't follow any of the rules Sirius had been taught since the day he was born.

As Sirius looks at James, he realises it looks like freedom. Not that Sirius even really cares about girls and marriage, but for the first time he sees that James truly has everything. Money, brains, parents who send him sweets and chocolate even when he doesn't ask for it. But more than that, James has options. He can choose his future.

"Are you ok?" James asks bringing Sirius back from his thoughts.

"Yeah." He answers before focusing on the chess board again. "But if I have to marry someone like Carrow and you get to choose, the least you can do is to lose the game!"

His knight eats James' horse.

"Hey, it's not that bad." James says comfortingly and moves his queen out of the way. Then he grins and Sirius knows he's up to no good.

"You can choose too. If you don't want Carrow you can always take one of your cousins," James suggests as sincerely as a mischievous pre-teen can.

The sofa cushion hits James before he has time to dodge, and then the chess pieces fly around as Sirius reaches over the sofa table to James.

When Remus Lupin descends to the Gryffindor common room a few minutes later, his two friends are a messy, wrestling and laughing pile of loosened ties and wrinkled ropes on the floor.

He shakes his head and sits on the sofa after removing a few misplaced chess pieces. He takes a fat book out of his bag and continues his day as if two wrestling thirteen-year-olds in his feet were nothing but an ordinary day.

As he reads Sirius launches from the floor to find a safe haven next to him - James knows better than to bother his reading. When the long haired boy leans his head against Remus' shoulder and shows his tongue at James, something extraordinary happens. Nobody notices, but the corners of Remus Lupin's lips turn into a smile behind his book.

Sirius Black has many things to learn and unlearn during his Hogwarts years. And dating girls - or not dating them - is definitely one of those.

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Falling, Falling All Over Again - Steve Harrington X Female Reader

Title: Falling, Falling All Over Again

Steve Harrington X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Robin, Nancy (Mentioned), the Wheeler family (Mentioned), Steve's parents (Mentioned), and the Reader's parents (Mentioned)

| Read Part 1 |

Requested by: Anon!

WC: 3,985

Warnings: Pre-Season 3, very brief mention of what happened in Season 2, banter, teasing, flirting, cursing, friends to lovers, reunion, and a lot of fluff

Today has been a slow day. Which was a bit odd for a weekend during the summer. The school - both of them - had been out for a couple of weeks at this point, and since then, Scoops Ahoy had been practically overflowing with teens excited about summer or little kids begging their mothers for ice cream at the new shop in the new mall. So, it being a weekend, during the summer, Steve thought that it would be another shift of chaos, but it was the total opposite. Around three hours into his shift, only thirteen customers had ordered their sweet-coned desserts from him. And that included Robin serving.

It was boring, and Steve knew that it was going to be when he applied for the job. The only times that it wasn't boring was when cute women were ordering from him or it was so busy that Steve's brain couldn't think about anything else but serving and scooping ice cream. By then, the word 'boring' was kicked out of the window and the wonderful word 'chaos' walked right on in. 

But today, as said before, Steve was bored out of his mind as he stood behind the counter, he leaned on his open palm, his elbow resting on the said counter; bent at the waist, staring off at nothing. His eyelids were drooped, mind elsewhere, away from his boring job, in his usually boring life, that he was thankful for, but he was so bored. It was practically killing him.

Robin slammed open the small window that separated herself in the breakroom from Steve, the sudden loud noise making Steve jump out of his skin a bit. Rapidly blinking, he pushed himself up to a slight slouch, turning his narrowed gaze towards her.

"Bored?" Robin asked, a grin on her face as her tone sounded more teasing than she actually meant to.

"Bored stiff," Steve replied. "I hope you're enjoying your break." He continued, but his own tone held no actual interest, more or so just annoyance towards the young woman; which was usual in their friendship.

Robin just continued to grin, raising her hand to show off the book in her hand; open, a couple of her fingers marking the page that she had been on. "I brought a book. So, yes, I am enjoying my break." Though, halfway through her sentence, her blue eyes strayed from his brown ones to look around the small soft-serve ice cream shop. "Got any more customers?" She asked with a small frown, only to continue, "Or have you been scaring them away?"

Steve huffed, rolling his eyes as he crossed his arms, "I'm not scaring them away," He defended himself, "No one's come in for the past hour." He exclaimed. At this point, the irritation that he had previously been feeling turned into mild irritation, and the frown grew deeper into a scowl as he spoke.

Robin snorted. Her lips quirked upwards into a tiny smirk. "I would think that this would be great news, for you, that is. You know, no customers for you means that you can just let time pass you by before going home."

"No customers means that we won't get paid well this week," Steve muttered, though he didn't care that much about the paycheck he'd be getting, he was, though, a bit upset that there weren't any pretty ladies coming in there for a sundae. 

Robin hummed shortly, pressing her hands against the windowsill, a thoughtful look on her face before her slight pout turned back into a grin, "Well, my board's gonna get all dusty if this keeps up."

Steve groaned, that board. That board, a small whiteboard that Robin kept in the break room that nobody used, was his doom. His rack and ruin. Just thinking about that board, Steve felt as if the sun was beating down on him. As if the heat radiating from his skin could melt him, searing the words 'you suck' onto his back until they were burnt and melted completely into his flesh. Because if he had to deal with that stupid board one more time, he might go insane. Okay... Maybe he was overreacting, but it did get him down sometimes. He wanted to show Robin that he could win himself a girl, with his charm and good looks. 

"I don't know why you insist on using that dumbass whiteboard." Steve spoke up, leaning back against the counter, his arms still crossed, as Robin just shrugged her shoulders.

"It's fun to mark down your progress." She answered, "Well, not your progress, since, you know, you haven't gotten a date yet."

"Just because the five or so-"

"Six." Robin interrupted, but Steve waved her off.

"Whatever. Just because I couldn't get a date in those six or something situations, doesn't mean that the next girl that walks in here won't fall for my foolishly good looks." Steve argued, running a hand through his hair as Robin let out a mixture of scoff and laugh. "I've told you before, I've had tons of girlfriends, and a hell of a lot of girls after me back in high school."

"Mhmm, but you're not in high school anymore," Robin answered, and she did have a point. Back in high school, Steve was very popular, everyone wanted to be him, date him, whatever. King Steve. But, after everything that happened, that all changed. Steve changed. For the better. "And I hate to burst your bubble, but I've seen the way you act around girls... You're hopeless. I don't know how you survived so long in your last relationship." As she finished her words, Robin winced, obviously upset with herself at how harsh she suddenly sounded. "Sorry, that was a bit rude."

Steve shook his head, waving her off once again "Nah... It's fine. I get it." Looking down at his shoes, Steve shrugged, "I don't know how we had last that long either." He muttered.

"This is going to sound all... Mushy... But," Robin began, "Were you in love with her... Nancy?" 

Robin's sudden question made Steve think for a moment before he spoke, "I think I was in love with the idea of her. She was fun and liked taking risks... Like me..." Steve sighed, "But yeah, I think I was in love with the idea of her... And yeah I was still upset when we broke up, and I'll always care about her, but I think that ship has sailed." At that last part, Robin snickered, making Steve look up at her, his eyebrows furrowed. "What?"

"You said 'ship has sailed.'" She spoke, placing her free hand to cover her mouth slightly as she laughed lightly, "With you in that outfit, I just can't..."

Steve let out a dramatic huff, though, he was unable to stop the small smile from growing on his lips. "Anyway, if we're continuing with this mushy shit... I believe that I have been in love. Once. A long time ago."

This seemed to pique Robin's interest, leaning against the windowsill slightly as she tilted her head. "Oh, mysterious... Do tell me more."

Steve scoffed, shaking his head slightly, "Don't you have to get back to that book?"

"Nah," Robin answered quickly, pushing her book to the side, giving him her full attention, "This sounds so much more in-depth than any other romance novel that I've read, I'm dying to know about this girl that stole your heart back in Kindergarten."

For a moment, Steve stared at her with wide eyes, a small shocked expression forming on his face. Then, slowly his mouth formed an amused smirk. "It was in third grade. If you must know. She was new." As the sudden memories of you began to rush up to the forefront of his mind, Steve took a deep breath. He hadn't thought about you in a long time, maybe years. He wasn't sure. Swallowing thickly, Steve pulled at the collar of his sailor outfit before speaking, "Uh, well, the first memory I had of her was when she was introduced to the class. I remembered that she was super shy..." A small smile slowly tickled the corner of his lips, "She had been wearing two pink bows in her hair."

Robin mimicked the smile, resting one of her hands on her cheek, leaning onto it, "What was her name?" 

Steve paused for a moment. Not because he forgot your name. No... He could never forget your name. Or you in general. Your name just reminded him of the past too much. Of the things that you were to him. "Her name was Y/N." Steve breathed out, swallowing, "We became pretty fast friends. We played together, she'd come to my house during the summer, we spent a lot of time together." Ducking his head, he looked to the side, his eyes glazing over as he remembered you, "Once we got to seventh grade, that's when I knew I wanted to marry her. We used to joke about it all the time. I have no idea if she felt the same or if it was all to play around, but she used to call herself 'Mrs. Harrington'. We'd play house..."

"I bet that was a great ego boost."

Steve rolled his eyes. "Shut up, I'm pouring my heart out here." A little laughter escaped from Robin's lips, but Steve continued, "Anyway, we were really close. She was my best friend. She was... Everything..." Letting out a small cough, Steve pressed his fist to his mouth for a moment before awkwardly looking up with a grin that didn't really reach his eyes. "Uh, yeah... She was great."

He was trying to play it all off, not really used to spilling his feelings out. Not like this anyway. It was a bit embarrassing for some reason unknown to him. But it was nice to get to talk about you. He really missed you. A lot. You have helped him in so many ways. Being there for him when he was lonely and his parents weren't paying him any mind or were off on another business trip. You were always so bright, always smiling, seeing the beauty in everything and anything. It didn't seem like anything could bring you down. And even in your young teens, you had this power to bring Steve out of whatever darkness was holding him down. He missed your bright smiles, he missed your warm hugs, he missed your touch. It made his heart ache strangely like it was being tossed in a tornado, and it hurt, badly. 

Robin hummed, narrowing her eyes slightly, "Hmm, she seemed to mean a lot to you. Whatever happened to the both of you? Fight or something?"

"No, uh, she moved away before we got into high school. I have no idea where she is now or what she's doing." Steve frowned slightly. "Probably living in New York somewhere. She loved the idea of New York." A sigh left his lips, as he shook his head, "It's been a while since we last saw each other... If she remembers me at all."

Robin gave a sympathetic smile, "New York huh? Better than here. Bustling cities, tall buildings, noisy taxis, and people everywhere." She hummed thoughtfully.

"Yeah..." Steve agreed softly.

Robin smiled faintly, before she cleared her throat, snapping Steve from his thoughts once more as she shifted slightly, her eyes glancing to the side and back to the older teen. "We finally have a customer. I'll let you handle it. Good luck." She gave him a quick grin before shutting the small window.

Sighing, Steve let out a breath from his nose, shutting his eyes and squaring his shoulders. Running a hand through his hair, he turned, "Ahoy thereeee..." Steve's voice trailed off, his eyes now open and wide as he stared right at you. 

You looked a bit different. Your hair was different, sense of style... But the way you smiled and that shine was in your eyes, they were still the same. Still you. The feeling that Steve had from earlier returned with a vengeance, along with something else, and you couldn't help but let out a small chuckle, absolutely loving his reaction. "Hey there, handsome. Long time no see."

"Y/N?" Steve replied, still shocked - that you were there, in front of him, and that you remembered him - his brown eyes flickering rapidly over your figure before settling back to your eyes. He's got to be dreaming.

"Yeah, it's me. In the flesh." You tilted your head. "And look at you, Steven, all grown up." You then gestured with a hand, "You're even taller than me. And I thought I'd stay the tall one."

Steve was still in shock, mouth hung agape as he stared right at you. The words that were running in his head seemed to dry up upon reaching his tongue. God, your voice... You were breathtaking. You always had been, but now even more so. His heart was beating loudly in his chest as he stared at you, threatening to burst past his ribcage and out into the open. He felt his knees become weak, his hands feeling heavy, and his vision blurring slightly. It was like he had forgotten how to breathe. Like time itself had stopped, and he was suddenly transported back to before high school - a time when you were practically with him twenty-four-seven. But you were here. Staring right back at him. "Y/N... What..."

Pressing one of your palms against the counter, you leaned forward. Reaching out, you pressed the pads of your pointer and middle finger under his chin, gently closing his mouth, "I hope I didn't break you. You've hardly gotten a word out." You leaned back, feeling a bit awkward now. "I was hoping you'd be happy to see me..." Your words trailed off as you fiddled with the hem of your shirt, taking a couple of steps backward - only now a couple of feet from the counter.

Snapping out of it, Steve shook his head, springing himself over the counter; not even bothering to walk around the damn thing. He just needed to be close to you, the fastest way possible. Before he could say anything, he wrapped his arms tightly around your waist, pulling you as close as he possibly could. Your body tensed up immediately at the sudden contact, letting out a small squeak of surprise, but your body relaxed and your eyes fluttered closed almost instantly.

Steve buried his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply, "God, I missed you."

You swallowed hard. The only reply that came out was a quiet "I missed you too," which was enough for him to hear, your hands quickly wrapping around his waist, holding onto him just as tight.

Robin, hearing the small commotion that sounded from Steve's sudden bounding over the counter, couldn't help but be curious and walk out of the breakroom. Upon seeing Steve, holding onto some stranger, Robin paused before rushing over. "I'm sorry, but is he bothering you?" She asked you, making you lift your head from Steve's chest. Instead of the fear in your eyes that Robin was prepared for, she was met with your bright eyes and equally bright smile.

"He's fine. I was expecting something like this..." You wiggled slightly in Steve's hold, offering your hand out to the dirty blonde. "I'm Y/N. Steven's best friend."

Robin's eyes widened, her shock quickly being covered with her excitement. "Y/N? Really? We were just talking about you!" She exclaimed, making you raise an eyebrow. "I finally got this one to break and tell me a bit more about his past. I'm Robin by the way. I love your shoes!" She continued, taking back her hand after the handshake before gesturing to your red Converse.

"Thanks, I like yours too." You returned your hand around Steve's side, "I've never dared to doodle on mine. I worry I'll mess up or something." You chuckled lightly, making Steve's heart soar. He loved your laugh.

Steve glanced up at you, unable to take his eyes away from you. There were so many things that he wanted to say, ask you. But instead, he remained silent. He had missed you more than he thought possible. As you continued to talk to Robin, head resting on his chest, Steve slowly raked his fingers through your hair, marveling over how soft it felt beneath his fingers. His heart began beating faster again as he ran his fingers through your hair, his gaze lingering on the strands that fell back into place perfectly. Steve could feel the faint blush creeping across his cheeks as he sighed contently. You were here.

"Stevie, you're gonna put me to sleep if you keep doing that." Your melodic voice spoke to him, making him freeze, his hand then landing on your waist. His eyes finally met yours, softening as he took in the look on your face, the happiness that was shining in those gorgeous eyes of yours. "Is everything okay?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Yeah, everything's good. Everything's perfect." He responded, giving you a small smile, "Just really glad to see you."

Robin looked between the both of you, really taking notice of the way Steve was looking at you, making her smile. Steve's brown eyes were soft, and slightly lidded as he smiled warmly at you. The way he held you, close to his chest, the way he looked at you... Yeah, he did love you. Robin saw it. It was obvious. And never had she seen him act so... So... Soft. Not to mention the fact that the two of you looked at each other as if you were the only two people in the world. The love that was radiating off of them, it made her heart swell.

Silently, Robin headed back to the breakroom. Pushing the window open, she glanced back over at you and Steve as she opened the cap of the whiteboard marker, and without a second thought, she drew one line under 'you rule.'

"I missed you so much, Y/N/N," Steve muttered, his hand coming back up to cup your warm cheek, "I never thought I'd see you again."

"Me neither," You admitted quietly, leaning against his touch. "My father got a job back here in Indiana. We live a town away. But I had to come see you. I didn't know if you'd still be in Hawkins. I checked everywhere. And I found you."

A fond smile crossed Steve's lips as he watched you lean against him. His gaze lingered on you for another moment before he sighed softly, tightening his grip on you as he nodded slowly. "You found me..." Steve murmured, his thumb brushing your bottom lip. "I knew you would someday."

"I'm glad I did today..." You answered, looking up at him from beneath your thick lashes, almost nervously giving him a small smile.

"Why's that, sweetheart?" Steve asked, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"Well," You paused for a second, flushing at his sudden sweet touch, "I'm glad I found you today because..." A mischievous sparkle appeared in your eye as you looked up at Steve, a look that Steve knew well. "I get to see you in this cute little sailor getup you got going on." You winked, causing a deep red flush to spread over Steve's cheeks.

"Sailor getup?" He raised an eyebrow, feeling a bit embarrassed since he hated the outfit with every fiber of his being.

"Mmmhmm," You nodded. "It brings out your eyes."

"Oh, does it?" Steve teased, glancing down at himself briefly, "You really like it?"

Biting your lip, you briefly glanced down at him, letting your eyes rake over his body before meeting his eyes one more, "Absolutely, Steven." You muttered, reaching up with one hand to grab the red ties of his flap collar. "I love my men in uniform." Your words caused Steve's breath to catch in his throat as your fingertips then slid along his jawline; his own eyes locking onto your lips. But before he could even fathom coming up with anything to say in response, you reached up with that same finger and booped him right on the nose. "Boop!" You exclaimed happily, giggling a little at the surprised expression that flashed across his face.

"Hey! Stop that!" He complained, his heart beating rapidly as his stomach filled with ten thousand more butterflies - joining the million that were already in there. 

But you just laughed even harder, burying your face into the crook of his neck as tears filled your eyes. "That wasn't very nice of me, was it?" You cooed, chuckling.

Steve gave a slight shake of his head before letting out a sigh, "So mean to me..."

"Oh, you love me." You added with a grin, lifting your head back up to look at him.

Shaking his head, Steve chuckled. "Don't put words in my mouth." But he knew it was true. He knew he had no choice but to fall in love with you. Let himself fall back in love with you. And Steve didn't hesitate, nor did he take a moment to think about it. Even though his heart ached a little, knowing that you were right in front of him, he would gladly lay down his life for you. Because even after all these years, and especially now, you were the most important person in his life. "How long will you be staying for?" He questioned after a few moments of silence.

You shrugged your shoulders. "Not sure yet. I'm not ready to go back home just yet." You replied honestly, "I'm staying at the Wheelers for the time being." You continued, Steve inwardly cringing at your words.

Why? Why, world, why?

You notice the slight hint of discomfort that washed over Steve's features, making you raise an eyebrow but you don't question him. Fidgeting with the red tails of his collar, you pouted lightly, looking up at him. Even after all these years, after five years, Steve still looked breathtaking. His eyes were still the beautiful chocolate brown that you adored, the strong jaw, the broad shoulders, the amazing brown hair. You couldn't get enough of him. He was simply too perfect. 

And it was plain to see that over the years, Steve had changed, and so did you. It was inevitable. Over the years, you were able to hide most of your feelings, and you felt as if it was the same for Steve. But for you, for both of you, it was so easy to just let your walls down. It always has been. Ever since the day when you first met. 

"Well," You sighed out, looking up at him with a small smile, "I'll let you get back to work. I still have to unpack." You finished, as Steve stuck his bottom lip out in a pout.

"Don't leave me." He muttered, his hands tightening on your waist, "I just got you back."

"I know, Stevie-pie," Oh, how he missed that nickname. "But, I think I'll need someone to be my tour guide for when I go around and see all the new things that this crappy town has to offer." You returned his pout with your own, "Think you'll have enough time out of your very busy day tomorrow for little ol' me?"

Steve shook his head with a smirk, his lips curving up into a genuine grin, "Always got time for you, Y/N."

"You're too good to me." You sighed, reaching your hand up, taking off his little sailor hat to run your fingers through his hair once, and the one movement made Steve shiver from head to toe.

"What can I say?" Steve leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to your forehead. "You bring out the best in me."

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Main Masterlist | Stranger Things Masterlist

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Should I make a part 2? Let me know! <3 Thanks for reading!

[bvtbxtch]

Checkmate. | Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: You thought your night couldn't get much worse, until a certain metalhead makes you an offer you can't refuse.

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader, Fem!Reader x Original!Jock!Character, minimal usage of Y/N.

Series Warnings: MDNI!!!! 18+ smut, fluff and angst, mentions of drug and alcohol use, Eddie and Reader partake in substances and he drives, both give consent under the influence but no one is so intoxicated they don't know what they're doing, mentions of physical harm towards reader and domestic violence if you squint. Ageless or minor blogs will be blocked.

Word Count: 9.8k (Shes a mammoth, of course)\

A/N: Hello my babies thank you for coming to my ted talk. Here is my next series and I have no idea how long it will be thank you kindly. This man has just had a chokehold on my brain. This fic was inspired by the song Sex by the 1975 and Checkmate by Conan Gray. I want to say a special thank you to @darknesseddiem for being my sweet angel baby and chatting with me through some hard shit!! Love you lots! I hope you all enjoy!!

Going to tag some mutuals and my fave blogs because I would love feedback and ideas on what you would like to see next!!

@andvys @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @eddie-munsons-mullet @ali-r3n @lovebugism @trashmouth-richie

“Fuck” you gasp as you frantically look in all of your jacket pockets for any remnants of a cigarette. Your eyes clouded with tears as you tried to take deep breaths. You wish that the ground would swallow you whole as drunk teens climbed over you on the front steps of whoever’s house was hosting this weekend’s rager. You wished you talked your boyfriend out of this party - hell you wish that you were at home alone. That way this mess would have been avoided, or it could have happened in the comfort of your own home - or without being humiliated by most of the people you went to highschool with. 

You laid on Billy’s unmade bed, pulling back on your shirt and fixing your panties that had been hastily pushed to the side.

“So, is that really what you’re wearing tonight?” the blonde studied you through the mirror on his wall. He had pulled his old Hawkins tee over his curls and smoothed it over his toned stomach. 

“Wha- what’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” You peered down at your bare legs and suddenly felt self conscious. You had picked out Billy’s ‘favorite’ plaid skirt (for easy access) and paired it with an oversized one shoulder tee. Your previously perfected curls stood in a halo of frizz after your pre party escapades (which if you were feeling honest with yourself, were more pleasurable for one of you).

“It just, is like the same thing you always wear, babe. Show off that bod you got, you look like a prude” Billy sneered. You rolled your eyes as you readjusted the shirt you had donned. 

“Maybe I shouldn’t go tonight,” you mumbled. 

“What are you talking about?” the mullet of curls whirled around and glared at you. “This is the biggest party of the summer and I need to make an appearance. You know people will ask questions if you aren’t there.” He stalked up to the bed and stood over where you sat. He grabbed your chin and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips. “Plus what happens when I get too drunk and need to relieve myself in the bathroom, huh?” He snickered as he grabbed your hands and pulled you up. “Now get out of that pretty head of yours and get ready to have fun. It's like all of our favorite things. Booze, friends, music, me…” He pulled you to the door and smacked your ass as you left, you let out a yelp and a sigh as you walked to his front door. 

“Those sound like all of your favorite things.” You mumbled, but the boy did not hear you. The two of you pulled out of his driveway and raced through the sleepy streets of Hawkins.

“Who’s all gonna be there tonight?” You asked. You weren't necessarily miss congeniality when it came to the Hawkins High population. You often found solace of the likes of Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley; Steve being your neighbor since you moved to town, and Robin hardly ever leaving his side. They were the few other people who you felt fully comfortable being yourself around.

“Well of course all the boys are gonna be there, I think Harrington said he might show up, and Chrissy and the cheer girls will probably go, and… Heather will be there”He stuttered on Heather’s name, which made you look over at him. His cheeks cast a light pink glow and he glued his eyes to the road. He had never mentioned her by name before. She had always been a part of the ‘popular girls’. You were a secure person but you had a knot in your stomach. You hadn’t seen as much of your boyfriend lately, apparently going to show his alumni support at basketball games, or out with the boys. He had come back to your bed with a few suspicious looking marks on his chest and neck that he had shook off as bruises from golf with the guys. You weren’t dumb; you had your suspicions, but you found it easier to not confront him now. College applications had just gone out, and you had heard back from few. You were ready to leave Billy Hargrove and this shitty town, but the prospects were dwindling and even if you didn’t have a future, you would have someone to be with in town. You felt the stomach acid rising in your throat, making you feel sick.

“Heather, huh? You haven’t mentioned her before”

“Yeah, she has been at a few shindigs before… do you not remember?” Billy’s voice was hoarse, he was getting defensive. “Why are you getting so jealous?”

“Whatever, Hargrove. Let’s just drop it.” You had minimal energy to fight with him.

“No seriously, do you have a problem with her? Like, she’s just a girl, we’re dating. Do you seriously not trust me? Because I’ll stay stuck to your side all night if that’s what you fucking want.” His voice continued to rise as he babbled.

“Jesus fuck! I don’t care that much! You just haven’t mentioned her before. Just drop it” You scowled and turned your body to stare out the window. 

“No, you look at me” The man grabbed your arm and pulled you hard towards the console of his car. “Do you fucking think I’m stupid? I’d drop your sorry ass before I went on to someone else - and this kind of shit makes me want to drop your ass so you better fucking behave because you know what happens if I fucking dump you.” His eyes were now fixed on yours instead of the road. You pulled your arm away with no avail 

“Jesus, fine, I get it! Now let go, you’re hurting me” He let go of your arm as you threw your body towards the car door. You let a small ‘asshole’ slip out of your mouth, but he did not hear you. You rode in silence to the party. When the car stopped you opened your door and slammed it shut, leaving Billy to scramble out of his car after you. He caught up to you and grabbed your wrist.

“Baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He pouted

“Yeah whatever, let’s just drop it, okay? We’re here for a good time” you mumbled. You would do anything to get out of his grip. You needed a drink. He pulled you into his chest and planted a sloppy kiss to your mouth. He tried to stick his tongue in your mouth to deepen the kiss but you pulled away from him and led him inside with a tight lipped smile.

As the hours bled together like the alcohol on the linoleum, your brain begins to go fuzzy. Your boyfriend who was, at one time, hanging off of you, was nowhere to be found. You excuse yourself from the flip cup tournament occurring in the dining room to go to the bathroom and ground yourself from the alcohol that you had consumed. You came face to face with a girl with beautiful brown locks and big brown eyes. As soon as she looked up at you, she cast her gaze to the floor and scurried past you, a guilty smile plastered to her lips. As you made it to the end of the hallway, you were met with your boyfriend's figure. His eyes bulged out as you now stormed towards him; his hands flew to his neck.

“What the fuck is this?” you clamor, the alcohol fuelling your courage and anger. 

“What are you talking about?” You pushed Billy into the wall and grabbed his wrists. When his neck was freed, you were met with sprinkles of violet bruises and lipstick.

“Are you fucking kidding me” you laughed dryly. You pulled Derek’s shirt up to see the marks lead down his stomach and disappear at the hem of his jeans. You let go and your hand wound up to slap his cheek. He takes the hit and stalks after you as you trudge back to the party.

“Y/N wait!” Billy’s pleas garner a crowd, drunk party goers begin to form a snickering gang around the two of you.

“Tell Heather I say hey, and stay the fuck away from me okay?” You turn on your heel and head for the front door.

“You want a puff of mine?” You hear a familiar voice ask you. You feel a soft thump and warmth beside you. You look over and you are met with dazzling chocolate brown eyes, a mop of curly bangs and a lopsided smile. The boy has a joint pinched between his fingers and is holding it between the two of you. You can smell the alcohol and weed radiating off of him, but unlike most of the people here, it brings you comfort. You don’t condone taking anything from strangers but tonight you needed it - and he wasn’t a stranger. Not really.

“Thanks” you whisper as you take the joint from his hands and place it in your mouth. The boy flicks his zippo and holds it to the joint in your mouth. When he pulls away, he spends what seems like hours studying your face. Your face was flushed, but you were pale. Your brows were furrowed in (what he thought was) the most beautiful way. Your lipstick had left a distant stain on your mouth and your mascara had just begun to smudge under your eyes. You looked tired, and you had obviously been crying. Eddie thinks you’re the most interesting and beautiful person he has seen tonight. He had thought you were beautiful when he had bumped into you in the hallways, or shared a friendly wave under the bleachers during a smoke break; but seeing you up close was worlds different. He feels addicted to your face already - maybe it was the beers and weed talking, but he couldn’t look away.

“How much do I owe you, Munson?” you mouthed through the joint.

“Owe me? Princess, you wound me! This one is free of charge.” Eddie quips as he throws his hands to his heart. He smiles as he plucks the joint from your lips, takes a puff, and places it back in your mouth. As little as you had talked to the metalhead in school, you remembered always being intrigued by him. Your gaze often rested on him as he made an ass out of himself. You often caught yourself smiling with him. His face always felt so kind and welcoming, a welcome change from the cruel judgmental stares of the population of Hawkins High. The only reason you weren’t eaten alive was because of Billy. Without him, you would have been the freaky new girl.  But you also knew that Eddie Munson’s reputation preceded him: although he was labeled the freak, he was one of the few drug dealers in Hawkins, which also made him a hot commodity with the female population - and was masterful with skills that pertained to them (apparently).

“Totally free, huh? No strings attached?” you teased as you knocked your shoulder into his. 

“Nah, pretty girl clause. I don’t charge for them… especially when they’ve been crying” His smile fell as he examined you. You met his eyes briefly but you couldn’t keep his gaze.. You glued your eyes to your sneakers. Eddie grabbed your chin softly and raised your face to meet his. 

“Pretty girls like you shouldn’t be outside of a party crying, you should be making the boys inside cry” he thumbed at a rogue tear that fell down your face, then grabbed the joint from you again. Your breath hitched as he blew smoke back at your face. 

“Tell me what’s going on.” You have no idea why, but you trusted him with your predicament. 

“My-my boyfriend… I just caught him with another girl.” You laugh at yourself as the words fall out of your mouth. You never thought you would be the pathetic girl babbling to someone about her shitty life, but here you are. Eddie’s eyes harden and he begins to tense his jaw. 

“Who’s your boyfriend?” he growls. 

“Umm, his name is Billy”

“Fuck- no way, Billy Hargrove did this to you? What a fucking prick! What are you gonna do?”

“Nothing tonight. It’s not even worth it.” You slump. Wiping your eyes, you look back up to Eddie and smile. “Sorry, don’t mean to be a buzzkill. You can go back inside if you want, Eddie. I shouldn’t be bothering you with my shit.”

“Sweetheart, wherever you are feels like it's the most interesting place to be… now if I go inside, I would really hope that you would join me because the two of us can’t have much fun at this party if you’re out here alone, now can we?” Both you and Eddie blush furiously. His words went straight to the pit of your stomach. You didn’t know what you deserved for him to be so nice to you, but you hope that it doesn’t stop. Eddie jumps up onto his feet and stands in front of you, his hands reaching out to yours to pull you up. For a split second, you felt unsure of yourself. You stopped before Eddie led you back up the porch steps towards the house. 

“You aren’t being nice to me just to get in my pants are you, Munson?” Although you try your best to hide it, insecurity seeps through your voice. 

“Normally I would be flattered, but I can tell that’s the opposite of what you need right now. If you would let me, Y/N, I would love to go shotgun a beer with you and have fun at a party, that’s it.” Eddie’s smile is genuine. His eyes are soft and he smiles warmly at you. For the first time in what seemed like hours, you smiled a genuine smile. With a small ‘lets go’, you let Eddie lead you back into the party.

After a few more drinks, you find yourself across from Eddie in a circle of drunk teens. A beer bottle centered between all of you. You were never one for drinking games like this, but tonight you need a change, you want to do something you normally never would, thanks to your new drinking companion. What you don't anticipate is your boyfriend entering the circle, Heather not far behind him. Your gaze hardens as you see him fold his legs into a seated position. He looked angry at you, which fuelled your rage even more - how the fuck could he be mad at you? Your eyes peel from his form, to the lanky metalhead sitting across from you. He mouths the words ' it's okay’ then sends you a wink, your posture relaxed and you focus all of your attention at the mop head across the circle from you, not the boy you thought loved you. 

A few rounds of the bottle, a few rounds of kisses, a few rounds of laughs. You are enjoying reacting to what was happening in the game of spin the bottle until the glass in the center lands on you. Time seems to stand still as you feel your heartbeat in your ears. Eddie’s face drops as he watches you, sensing your panic. He looks down at his hands and picks his thumbnails, not wanting to see the hot mess that was going to unfold in front of him. He was too pissed at your boyfriend to watch you - a literal angel - kiss someone who had hurt you so bad. 

You felt your eyes beginning to well up with tears, feeling like you only had one choice in the circle full of strangers. You could hear some of them laughing at you - obviously knowing of what had transpired between you and Billy before. You look around desperately, hoping there is some way you could take your leave, then you make eye contact with the boy that had his stare trained on the floor. Your heart pounds harder as you unravel your legs and crawl across the circle - in the opposite direction of where your boyfriend was sitting. There are gasps and oohs escaping the crowd as you inch your way closer to the boy you were going to kiss. Eddie looks up at the commotion and instantly turns flush as his stare meets yours. You seem calm, but Eddie’s hands begin to shake. He makes the mistake of glancing over at Billy, who is bright red and clenching his fists. Was this really happening? 

Eddie uncrosses his own legs and leans back on his hands, ready to receive you. As you meet his legs, he holds his breath. You slink up his body and when your face was close enough for Eddie to feel your breath on his face, you part your legs and sit into his lap. Eddie’s breath immediately hitches as everyone in the room falls silent. His arms fly to hover around your waist as your arms wrap around his neck. You gently lean in and close your eyes, giving Eddie a chance to pull away if he wanted to (but lord knows he didn’t). Your lips meet softly and you feel everything around you still. Eddie’s lips are chapped, but still feel soft against yours. You move your face to the side slightly for Eddie to deepen the kiss. His tongue glides across your lip as a permission to deepen your embrace further. You hum into him and he takes advantage, his tongue softly roaming the inside of your mouth, battling your own tongue. Your stomach backflips as Eddie grabs the side of your face, your squirm in his lap causes him to moan softly into your mouth. Everything felt spinny in the best way possible, you grab onto Eddie as you are afraid the euphoria was going to send you floating away. Suddenly, you feel a tight grip on your arm and you are being pulled to your feet from behind. You’re separated from Eddie with a smack of your mouths, and you are left to gaze at him in total awe as you are dragged out of the room backwards.The grip on your arm pulls you around the corner and it wasn’t until Eddie was fully out of sight that you felt any sort of panic.

Your back hit the wall with a thud and you were instantly trapped between two large biceps. You stare up at furious baby blue eyes glaring back at you. Billy’s hot breath fans over your face.

“What the fuck was that, Y/N? Are you fucking kidding me?” he slurs through gritted teeth. The vein on his neck was beginning to pop out. You’ve seen this vein many times before. The alcohol and intoxicating kiss were going to your head and the idea of your hypocrite boyfriend getting mad at you for a stupid spin the bottle game after he had fucked someone else gave you the giggles. You let a small one slip past your lips. Billy slams his hands against the wall that leaves a ring in your ears and your chest tightening. Your giggle fades and smile drops instantly. 

“Fucking humiliate me like that again and I will fucking ruin you. You got it? You wanna do anything in this town, you want to see anyone, I’ll make sure you can’t. University? That fucking gross record store you work at? Gone. I’ll fucking own your life if you do that shit to me ever again. I can’t believe you would do something like that to me.”

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me, right? You’re the one that’s mad at me?” you sneer. Derek takes a step back like you have punched him in the gut. “Go cry on Heather’s shoulder, because as far as I’m concerned, I’m single tonight. Fuck my life up just as hard as you fucked Heather in the bathroom.” The furious figure's hand forms a hard fist at his side. He looks like he is getting ready to wind up and hit you and you wince prematurely in anticipation…

Eddie sits in the circle completely stunned; your lips still burned onto his. It took him several seconds for his breathing to steady and for him to realize where he was: in front of a crowd of drunk teens that now look at him wide eyed, saying nothing. It also took him moments to realize that you were in fact sitting on his lap, but now were not. He runs his hands through his curls and offers his audience a tight lipped smile as he leans over and spins the bottle again. He rises from his seat and sets off after your figure, which had just disappeared around the corner. He floats over to where he could see your shadow, knees still shaky from going weak underneath your body. What he is greeted with snaps him out of his daze.

“Hey, is this dickhead bothering you?” a welcome voice rang in your ear and saves you in the knick of time. You look over to the side and see the once soft and dazzling brown irises are cold, his lopsided smile curved into a frown and his jaw was tense. Billy’s eyes meet with Eddie’s and you swear you see smoke coming out of his ears. 

“Fuck off, Munson. This is between me and my girlfriend , so why don’t you find some other desperate slut to take home and leave her alone, okay?” He pushes two fingers into Eddie’s shoulder.

“Woah, what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” you snap.

“It’s alright, sweetheart. The meathead needs to take his aggression out on someone, apparently the fuck in the bathroom didn’t do it for him” Eddie snarls, puffing his chest out, inviting Derek to make a move. 

“Sweetheart? I’ll fucking-” Derek goes to swing at the metalhead’s face but you insert yourself between the two of them. 

“Both of you, back the fuck up. I am so not in the fucking mood.” You push Eddie away, towards the front door. Eddie’s eyes are trained on the enraged boy, ensuring he stays planted in the hallway. Your boyfriend’s hands are held in fists so hard that you imagine there’s crescent shapes etching into his palms. Once you were a safe distance away, Eddie’s gaze shifts to your hands pushing on his chest. He grabs them and pulls you to the entryway of the house. His eyes soften when they land on you, his face now painted with worry.

“Are you okay? He didn’t hurt you, did he? I’ll fucking kill him if he-”

“Relax, Munson. I’m okay. He’s pissed. I guess he has the right to be.” 

“Are you kidding? You have every right to be pissed at him! The way I see it, you just got revenge - which I am happy to have helped facilitate by the way.” To Eddie’s surprise, your retort to his comment was a wholehearted chuckle. He looks at you in amused bewilderment as you give him a hearty laugh. Your nose scrunches up and your eyes begin to water. Eddie’s heart soars, he thinks he could get used to seeing you like this. He takes a mental picture that he hopes will last him forever. Your laugh is infectious and soon he joins you. Your head leans into his chest and he is holding you to ground himself as well - feeling like he was going to explode with glee just being around you. Your laughing settles and you peered up at your savior, your eyes becoming cloudy with anxiety.

“Hey, this party kind of blows” he scoffs. “You wanna go?” he rubs circles into your shoulder comfortingly. You lean into his touch and smile softly. 

“Yeah, I am ready to get the fuck out of here. Walk me home?”

“Oh, sweetheart. I’ll do you one better.” Eddie grabs your hand and leads you to the door. As you shut the door behind you, you make eye contact with Heather, who is staring wide eyed at you. You felt sorry for her. As difficult as it felt, you let the thought of her marks down your boyfriend’s body disappear with her figure behind the door. 

You shiver in the damp summer twilight. Hawkins had been blistering hot during the daytime, but the nights were a welcome pause. You take a deep inhale of fresh air as you catch up to Eddie at the end of the driveway. You walk with him in comfortable silence. The streetlights encapsulate Eddie in a halo of light, his pale skin glowing and eyes shining. The more you study the mop headed boy, the faster your heart beats. Once you have rounded the corner of the sidewalk the boy grabs your hand. You flinch, but squeeze his hand tightly in appreciation. Why was he being so nice to you today? Are you just a lay for tonight or is he genuinely interested in you? As much as you wanted it to be genuine, you remind yourself that anything to distract you from this night was welcome. And he was in fact a pretty cute distraction.

“I’m sorry your boyfriend’s a dick” he utters. He bumps his shoulder with yours as your eyes turn to the pavement beneath your converse.  

“Yeah, it’s okay I guess.” Eddie could feel you shutting down. Your grip loosens on his hand.

“You don’t deserve that, you know?” Eddie stops walking and pulls you to face him. You roll your eyes and scoff at him.

“Alright, Munson. Take it easy, if you keep this up I might think that you like me or something”

“But, I do like you.” Eddie retorts. His answer blindsides you. He can’t mean he likes you like that. Plus you have a boyfriend.

“You don’t even know me.”

“Well, I know that kiss wasn’t just a normal kiss” Eddie’s eyes bored into you, full of a comforting darkness that was unfamiliar to you.. A coldness ran through your veins and you felt your breath catch in your throat. “Here’s what I’m thinking. We give you some matching marks that your boyfriend has. We can have fun tonight and you can forget about what you saw at that party. Or we enjoy the ride back to your house and we say goodnight and I still go home feeling like the luckiest guy in the world because I got to kiss a really beautiful girl tonight. What do you say? Van’s right here.”

Your cheeks are hot and the butterflies in your stomach feel like they are going to fly out of your body. Your mouth feels dry and your head is spinning. Did he really just offer to sleep with you to get back at Billy? Would you even be able to bring yourself to do it? But the kiss… You couldn’t stop picturing the kiss. It felt perfect. It felt like he was the only person that you were supposed to kiss. If your shitty boyfriend was off with someone else, why shouldn’t you have fun too? You stand in contemplative silence for a moment, then look up at Eddie with your big doe eyes. He feels like he could fall apart right then. You nod feverishly at him. He studies your face closely to make sure there was no hesitation, then his eyes darken with excitement and something that you could not read.

Eddie lunges into you like you are his prey. His hands fly to your hips and he pushes you onto the side of his van. Your mouth opens to let him deepen the kiss and he hums into you. Your butterflies move from your stomach to your core as Eddie puts his knee in between your legs. You break the kiss to catch your breath, giving the brunette prime real estate at your neck. He traces kisses from the side of your mouth to your pulse point, then he bites down hard - garnering a sharp gasp from you. You feel Eddie chuckle against your skin. He drags his tongue against the new bruise that was forming to soothe the dull ache. 

“Eddie” you gasp, feeling the strength slipping from your legs, you needed more from him. Eddie raises his head from your neck. His golden eyes bore into you with pure lust and passion, but he is considerate; he studies your face closely, looking for any trace of hesitancy. He pushes his weight off of you and gives you air. 

“You okay? This is okay right?” God, you feel as if you were going to drown in his eyes. His voice is saccharine sweet and you want to melt into him. But there was a sickly pang of guilt, knowing that you were doing all of this behind your boyfriend’s back. No matter how shitty he was, you couldn’t help but feel bad. But Eddie making you feel this good was too difficult to ignore; so, you decide that you can feel bad later - now it was time for you to give in to what feels good. 

“Yeah, we should get going,” you pant. You pull at the lapels of his vest so he is back on you, your lips feeling lonely without him. You feel Eddie pawing at the passenger door of his van to the left of you. Once he gets it unlocked, he lifts you by the hips and sits you on the passenger seat, but instead of detaching himself from your lips, he grabs at your thighs so they wrap around his lean waist. A shock wave of pleasure shoots straight to your core as you feel Eddie’s calloused hands trace up your thighs. His cool rings send shivers down your spine and spread heat to your core. You push your body closer to Eddie’s, which warrants a moan into your mouth. Eddie’s beginning to sweat, he feels like he could explode any minute. The feeling of your core just a few layers of where he wants you the most drives him wild. His hands wander to the hem of your skirt and up the top of your thighs. You use his infatuation with your legs to mouth at his neck. You pepper soft pecks to his Adam's apple, pulling a hard gulp from the boy. Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest in anticipation of what was going to come next. You spread a blotchy galaxy of bruises across his neck, but when you bite down on his pulse point, you hear a growl in the back of Eddie’s throat that takes your breath away.

“Fuck, sweetheart. You’re driving me crazy, you know that?” His hands travel further up your legs and rest at your hip, toying with the hem of your panties. You wiggle your hips as silent encouragement. Eddie hooks his fingers around the soft cotton of your underwear and pulls them down cautiously, giving you plenty of time to stop him if needed. The summer breeze hits your core and you shiver. Eddie gasps once he has your panties in his hand. 

“Cute underwear. This all for me? You’re so wet already” he coos as he scrunches the fabric into his hand. “I’m gonna have to take these as a souvenir, if you don’t mind” You roll your eyes and laugh, but your smile fades as Eddie drops to his knees in front of you, never breaking eye contact with you. 

“E-Eddie, what are you doing? We can’t do this in the middle of the road” you protest, pulling your skirt down and tugging your knees together.

“Then you better be quiet so we don’t get caught”. Eddie returns his hands to your thighs and traces over your knees so he can pull your legs back open. With a sigh, you give in. Eddie gives you a reassuring smirk, then presses a kiss to your knee. It feels like it is getting harder and harder to take steady breaths as you watch the beautiful boy beneath you plant chaste kisses up your thigh. You felt like you were going to suffocate the closer he got to where you wanted him the most, the anticipation strangling you like a noose. You wriggle in the seat, head pulled down to examine what the metalhead was doing beneath you. 

“Such a pretty pussy, baby” Eddie's praises went straight to your core and you let out a strained moan. Eddie sent a pointed look up to you, warning you to keep quiet. You bite down on your lip as the boy disappears under the small amount of skirt left covering your decency. Eddie presses small kisses around your cunt, making you twitch with every move. You’re getting desperate for some release and Eddie could tell. Your hips subtly thrust towards his face and you can feel a smile on the next teasing kiss.

“Eddie, please, please,” your calls sound like prayers to him and he could get used to hearing the hymn coming from you. He decides to relieve you from your distress and takes a long swipe along your folds. You wrack out a mewl so sensual Eddie felt like he could cum right then. His tongue felt euphoric and he hums praise into you as he takes another swipe. 

“Pussy tastes so good, princess. You’re so sweet” Eddie says before his lips bare down on your clit, sending your head jolting back in ecstasy. One of your hands flies to the roof of the van, the other in Eddie’s hair. As you claw at his scalp, Eddie doubles down on your heat, sending you closer and closer over the edge. 

“Eddie, please, I’m so close” you pant.

“Come on, Y/N. Cum for me” Eddie encourages, probing a finger into your throbbing core. Eddie fixates his tongue on your clit, ensuring his eyes can watch your face as you fall apart over him. His finger curls expertly inside you, encouraging your orgasm to radiate through your body. Before you can register what was happening, your chest grows tight and you lose all feelings in your legs, a euphoric sob is pulled from your lungs and you couldn’t help but tighten your grip in Eddie’s hair, to his delight. Eddie moans into your core as he works you through, feeling hardly able to control his own high as well. When you moan again, Eddie detaches his mouth from you and swiftly raises to his feet. His hand cupped over your mouth as he continued to pump in and out of you, pushing you to overstimulation. You mewl beneath Eddie’s hand and he scolds you.

“Now, this is how you get us caught, sweetheart.” Eddie peers down each side of the sidewalk, luckily no one had seen the two of you. Eddie pulls his fingers out of your cunt and takes his hand off of your mouth, giving you an opportunity to catch your breath. Chest heaving, feeling high solely off of your orgasm, you swoon as you watch Eddie take the fingers that are covered in your essence and pop them into his mouth, sucking them clean.

“Get in the back, pretty girl” Eddie demands. You shake your head as you hop off the seat, legs wobbly and head spinning. You take Eddie’s hand and climb into the now open sliding door, giving Eddie a beautiful shot of your glistening pussy under your skirt. He curses to himself as he climbs in after you. 

You take in the sights of the back of Eddie’s van and although it isn’t necessarily clean, it is cozy and you immediately feel comfortable being there with him. There are a few throw pillows tossed haphazardly in the corner, along with a few blankets strewn out on the floor. Cassettes littered whatever area they could claim and various metal posters decorated the walls. To your surprise, a line of wrapped condoms sat in one of the cupholders. 

Eddie’s mouth was back on you as soon as he closed the door. The taste of your own essence and the weed you had smoked earlier made you feel high all over again. Eddie sits back against one of the van’s walls and guides you by the hips into his lap. The feeling of his rough denim on your bare core riled you up and again you were a mewling mess on his lap.

“Take this off, I wanna see you” Eddie mutters as he fumbles with the hem of your T-shirt. You fling off your shirt as Eddie ogles at your figure. His hands drift to your breasts and he moans in satisfaction.

“If I take mine off, you gotta take yours off” you tease. Eddie happily obliges you and pulls his shirt off. You were finally able to fully take in the boy's beautiful alabaster skin. You admired the dark ink that danced along his muscles and the neat lining of hair that leads to where you want to see the most. As much as you appreciated the distraction, you did find yourself truly appreciating Eddie for his looks as well as his sexual prowess. He truly was beautiful and looked even more so looking up at you with a fucked out stare, eyeing you like you were his whole universe. Eddie mouthed at the edge of your bra as he reaches around your back to unclasp your pesky straps. Your moans and breaths invigorate him even more and you could now feel his erection growing furiously hard beneath you. When your bra falls from your shoulders, Eddie captures one of your nipples in his mouth, while pawing at your other breast. You wanted his mouth to become a permanent fixture of your body. He felt so natural being there, and you couldn’t get enough. Your hands land on Eddie’s pecs, feeling the muscles moving beneath you, you claw down his stomach. Eddie hisses into your skin, loving the pain. You fumble with his belt beneath you, impatient to get his pants off. Again, you feel Eddie’s smirk against your skin. He separates himself from you to assist you in unclasping his belt and pants.

“Impatient girl,” he teases.

“Just get your pants off, Munson” You want your response to sound confident and sassy, but you are getting desperate, and your voice sounds whiny and breathy. It made Eddie laugh in confidence. He could ask you to do anything for him and you would do it right now, he knew that. 

Eddie grabs your wrists that were still frantically trying to get into his pants and he pulls them away. You wriggle off of him and watch with bated breath as the boy peels off his jeans. Your eyes widen at the erection that Eddie is sporting. You couldn’t help yourself - you reach to him and run your hand across his bulge, eliciting a hiss from the boy. You flinch, but return your hand.

“Is this okay?” you question with sickly sweet care. Eddie could cum right this second.

“More than okay, princess,” he sighs. “Feels so fucking good already”. You place yourself between the boy’s legs and continue to rub at him, squeezing his length and rubbing your hands over his sensitive head every few strokes. 

You understand how Eddie could get off by pleasuring you, because the sounds he was making sent heat straight to your core. His sighs and praises left you with a bewildered smile on your face. Your fingers curl beneath Eddie’s plaid boxers and he held his breath. You share a look, ensuring each other that you were both okay with going forward. You free Eddie’s cock and it flexes up towards his bellybutton. He is large - both exceptionally long and girthy. His veins trace the underside of his cock and lead to his weeping, pink tip. You feel your mouth watering as you lower yourself to Eddie’s waist. Your eyes peer up at him as you take one long swipe at him with your tongue. Eddie's eyes roll to the back of his head as he lets out a groan. You tease his tip, taking it into your mouth and swirling your tongue around his slit. Eddie’s hand finds purchase in your hair, stroking and pulling softly to ground himself. He was desperate to cum, he could just let himself go in this second, but then he wouldn’t be able to take full advantage of the time he has with you.

“Fuck, babe. You feel so good on my cock” Eddie’s praise encouraged you to take as much of Eddie that would fit in your mouth, and sucked back up his length. You bob on his cock until your eyes are watering. You milk Eddie for all of his sweet sounds and touches. You take a moment to look up at the boy and you are met with one of the most beautiful sights you have ever seen. 

Eddie’s mouth was parted slightly. His bangs were beginning to stick to his forehead from the heat in the van. The rest of his hair settled on his shoulders, curls beginning to frizz. His brows were perfectly furrowed in concentration. His eyes pressed shut. A red flush formed on his face. He looked angelic. You could get used to looking at him like this: a moaning mess underneath you. You push Eddie’s cock further into your mouth and hold it there. Eddie’s eyes fling open in ecstasy and he looks down at you. He also thinks this is one of the best sights he’s ever seen. Then he feels you gag and he feels like his soul has left his body.

You moan into him then you gag, pulling back to catch your breath. Suddenly, Eddie is pushing you back against the opposite wall of the van.

“Eddie wha-”

“As much as I love seeing you choke on my cock, I can’t fucking hold on anymore. I need your pussy,” Eddie pleads as he undos the zipper on your skirt. You assist him in pulling it off as he reaches into his cup holder and grabs a small silver foil. He rips it open with his teeth and hisses as he slides the condom onto his penis. You felt a pang of nerves now. Being so close and intimate to Eddie felt so evil - he wasn’t your boyfriend. But it felt so right. Your pussy quivered just thinking of him being inside you. Eddie positioned between your legs. He rubbed his head between your folds, evoking moans from both of you.

“Fuck, you’re still so wet. You like sucking my dick, huh?” Eddie quips.

“Unff. Eddie, I love it.” You jolt as his head rubs at your clit. “Please, Eddie. Need you”

Eddie's eyes drop to where you are connected and he lines himself up with your entrance. He slowly presses in with a low growl. 

“Fuck. You’re sucking me in”

“So big Eddie. Fuck” You pant. He had gotten barely half way and you felt deliciously full already. The stretch, mixing pleasure and pain. He is a perfect gentleman in taking his time with you. You admire his self control. You could tell going slow was not easy for him. His brows were furrowed even harder than before, his breath short and raspy. Finally, Eddie bottoms out. You felt like you were going to lose control too. You whimper underneath the metalhead.

“It's okay baby, you take my cock so well” Eddie’s hand came up to stroke your face gently, a brash juxtaposition to the lewd act you were both participating in. You turn your cheek and open your mouth on Eddie’s thumb. You look up at him with your watery eyes and suck down hard. Eddie thought he was going to collapse right then and there. 

Eddie pulls himself all the way back out of you, instantly making you feel empty. You’re overwhelmed with fullness and pleasure as his cock rams back into you. You can’t help but yell out in pleasure. You bite your lip and cover your mouth with your hands. Eddie begins fucking into you at a ruthless pace. He pulls your hand from your mouth .

“Don’t stop those noises. I wanna hear you” he coos, pulling a sob from you. His cock hits just the right spot and you could feel yourself hurling towards the second orgasm of the night. 

“E-Eddie… m’close. Please don’t stop” you whine. Eddie smiles down at you, quickening his pace. His hand flies down to where the two of you meet and while muttering endless praises, rubs precise circles on your clit. You feel Eddie’s hips stutter as he watches your eyes roll to the back of your head and gasp as your orgasm falls on you. Your pussy has Eddie in a vice and he could barely hold back his own finish, but he was determined to work you through your climax, to make you feel as good as you can for as long as he could. He can feel your legs shaking beneath him and sees tears well up in your eyes. As you push his hands away from your sensitive clit, he puts his hands beneath your back and pulls you into his lap. Your hands fly to the wall of the van. Eddie fucks into your pussy at a dizzying pace, so hard that you felt that you could barely hold on.

“That’s right baby, bounce on that cock like a good girl. Take it” You whine at his words while your pussy throbs from your ebbing orgasm. You look around and suddenly feel a pang of jealousy. You wondered how many girls he had done this with in the back of his van - hell, anywhere. Were you just another conquest? What makes you different? Eddie saw an opportunity and he took it; and as hypocritical as you were, you hated thinking that he was going to leave the party and go see someone else. You look down at Eddie, his hair surrounding him like a halo, his cheeks fully flushed and sweat dripping down his face. 

“Come for me, Eddie.”

“Wha-”

“Come for me. Come on, I wanna see you cum” Your eyes darken with lust and never left his face. You could feel his dick twitching inside of you and his breath shallowed. With a grunt and a few hard thrusts, you could feel Eddie’s cock being milked for all it was worth. You almost wish that he wasn’t wearing a condom so you could really feel him. His hips settle and you put your weight down on Eddie’s body, both heaving and sweaty. You let out a small giggle but Eddie studies your face closely, something is happening behind your eyes. Something’s wrong.

“Hey” , his voice was soft and tender. “Everything okay?”

“What? Of course. That was… that was great” you sigh, but Eddie doesn’t seem convinced. You roll off of him and lay to his right, looking into his beautiful brown eyes. 

“If you regret it we don’t have to do it ever again and you can pretend like you don’t know me” Eddie’s eyes darted from yours and a dry laugh left his lips. Was Eddie Munson insecure? 

“Eddie, that was the most fun I’ve had in a long time. I don’t regret it at all” you smile at him. You can feel his muscles relax beside you and his face sank into his usual dopey smile. You weren’t lying. Things with your boyfriend had been… tense to say the least. 

The movie playing out of Billy’s old pick up truck was drowned out by wet smacks against your neck. As usual, your boyfriend ignored your requests to not be marked up and was in the middle of gnawing at you when his hands started to migrate to your thigh. You nudged his hand away, but he persisted, swatting your hand away from his. This time, he wrapped his strong arms around your waist. His kisses traveled down to your collar bone and he played with the hem of your shirt.

“Babe, we’re in public.” You scolded him, pushing him off of you. You had begun to feel like everyone around you was aware of what you were doing. You weren’t afraid of taking some risks, but you were just not feeling it tonight. 

“Yeah, and the public is watching a movie, so relax.” Billy presses his kiss-swollen lips to yours and forces his tongue into your mouth. You took your hands and pressed against his pecks to push him off. 

“I don’t want to do this right now, Hargrove. Seriously.” You turned your whole body against the door, away from him. He scoffed at you and you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks. 

“So you wear a skimpy little dress like that and you agree to come to the drive in with me just to actually sit and fucking watch a movie? Or are you dressing up for someone else? Andy works here right? Is that who it’s for?” His voice raised with every word he spat at you. You could feel the tears starting to prick at your eyes. But you wouldn’t cry for him - you didn’t want to give him what he wants. You’re pulled out of your thoughts as a death grip engulfs your bicep. Billy pulls you to him, so close that you can feel his breath fanning on your face. Your breath gets caught in your throat.

“Don’t joke like that, Billy. I would never.”

“Prove it to me then.”

“Wh-what” you whimpered. 

“Prove to me how much you love me.”

“Billy… please” 

“Prove. It.” he seethed. He let your arm go and pushed you towards the passenger door.  He leaned back and undid his jeans.

He raised his arms behind his head in satisfaction as you held back tears. You opened the truck door and slammed it, trudging towards the small concession to ask Robin for a ride home. 

You and Eddie wrangle your clothes, sharing small laughs and pleasant conversation. You both share another joint as you both stall ending the night. Finally, the conversation lulls and you’re afraid the time has come for you to go home. Eddie lets out a lazy yawn and you can’t help but admire his treasure trail that peeks out over his jeans as he stretches his arms above his head. 

“You getting tired?” he inquires, fidgeting with his rings.

“Yeah, I could sleep,” you admit. It was close to three in the morning and not only had you been up for almost 24 hours, you were so emotionally exhausted, feeling whiplash from your eventful evening. “I can let you go home,” you get up to open the van door, but Eddie grabs you by the waist and pulls you back into him. You giggle giddily. It’s been a long time since you have enjoyed being manhandled, but all of Eddie’s intentions seem so sickly sweet you couldn’t help but blush.

“Woah woah woah. You think I am going to let you walk home looking like that” He snorts.

“Looking like what?”

“Fucking gorgeous, and fucked out’. Eddie’s eyes rake over your figure again, sending heat back straight to your core. “Plus, I still have your underwear and there’s no way in hell you’re gonna walk home without those.”

“Well, you could give them back then,” you retort

“Not a chance in hell, sweetheart” He lands a chaste peck on your cheek before unwrapping his arms from you. He swings open the sliding door and hops out. Galivantly, he spins on his heel and offers his hand out to you. You take it and hop down onto the sidewalk. He opens the passenger door for you and helps you in. Once you are settled, he entraps you between his arms and leans his face close to yours. His eyes flicker between your mouth and eyes and he licks his lips. Suddenly, both of your movements feel more intimate. You meet him in the middle and lift your hand up to his cheek, he flinches at your touch, but quickly melts into you. Your mouths meld together perfectly and you would be content with staying like this forever. Eddie pulls away and rests his forehead against yours and offers you a sweet smile. He closes the door, leaving you for moments of silence. You can’t help but smile into your lap and touch your lips, still burning with the metalhead’s kiss. 

He turns the ignition and turns the radio up, Black Sabbath ringing through the van. You tell Eddie your address and he turns off of the low lit neighborhood road. There was a comfortable silence between the two of you but you saw Eddie’s hand twitch a few times. He wanted to reach out and touch you so bad, already feeling so starved of your energy. His Adam's apple bobs and he slowly reaches out to touch your knee. Eddie’s warmth sends butterflies to your stomach. Never have you felt so cared for by someone, let alone a random revenge hook up. You feel conflicted. As you stare out the window you couldn’t help but feel like a bad person - not for sleeping with Eddie, but for sleeping with someone with the intent to hurt your boyfriend. At least when Billy did it, you thought, it might have just been a mistake or getting caught up in the moment. You went out and sought out an action to hurt him on purpose. But fucking Eddie felt too good, and from the conversation you had after spin the bottle, it was clear to you that you were just an object for Billy’s interest. When he was done with you he would move on and get what he wanted from someone else. So, should you feel bad about finding something - someone you like being with? You couldn’t break up with Billy, you wanted to forget about this whole night but his words will ring out in your brain and heart forever. You let out a deep sigh and relax into Eddie’s seat.

“What’s eating you, sweet thing?” Eddie squeezes your thigh and you flash him a tight, but kind smile. 

“It’s just been an… interesting night.”

“Listen-” Eddie turns down the radio so Ozzy Osbourne is a mere whisper. “I don’t want you to feel bad about what we did. I don’t want you to be upset at yourself for that. So, if you want to forget this thing happened, I do understand. Really” His puppy dog eyes flickered between the road and your face, looking for any clues to what was going on in your head. You are such a mystery and he so desperately wanted to continue figuring you out, but, like you, your boyfriend seemed to be the only thing on his mind. You rub your lips together, deep in thought. 

“Eddie, I don’t regret what we did at all. But, I mean I do feel bad. I cheated on my boyfriend… but he’s a piece of shit” you mumble. “I don’t want you to feel bad either. I had a lot of fun tonight. I was being honest when I said this was the most fun I’ve had in a long time, I promise.” You grab the hand resting on your thigh and give it a squeeze.

Eddie’s heart could beat right out of his chest. There was a twist of guilt in your voice but you seemed… different. You aren’t sad. You don’t seem angry. You seem similar to Eddie: enamored with the person you are looking at. It gives him hope that he could selfishly go home and think there is a chance that he might see you again. A comfortable silence falls upon the two of you, both giddy at the contact and reassurance you have both received, but your eyes stay cloudy. Even though Eddie doesn’t know you well, he can tell you are still deep in thought about something. It makes him nervous not knowing what about. Did he do something wrong? Are you going to tell him that this was all a joke and you never want to see him again? Eddie dreads turning onto your street, he’s not ready to say goodnight and potentially goodbye. He begrudgingly pulls into your small driveway and turns the key in the ignition. The console light illuminates your faces and Eddie is sure he is looking at an angel. Your soft eyes peer at him through thick lashes and you bite your swollen lips.

“I, umm, I had a thought” you peep. Eddie nods at you in encouragement to keep going.

“I mean… If my boyfriend is going to fuck around behind my back, why can’t I do the same, you know?” You fiddle with the rings on Eddie’s fingers that are still in your lap. “I mean, he’s practically holding the relationship hostage so why can’t I have fun behind his back too?” You peer up at the boy whose eyes soften when you do. He could tell you were nervous to say this to him, scared of being judged. Little did he know, you were also worried that this was just some random fuck for him too. 

“Eddie, I was wondering if you wanted to make an… arrangement” you stop fiddling with his rings and your eyes bore into him; full of hope and desire. A smile quickly spread across Eddie’s face. 

“Hmmm, yeah, sweetheart. I think we could make that work.” You smile down at your hands, worried that if you look too hard into Eddie’s eyes, there would be no way you would ever make it out of them. Your eyes spot a sharpie laying on the floor of your seat. You reach down and pick it up. Eddie shoots you a questioning look but lets you grab his hand anyway. Trying not to shake too badly, you neatly scribble your phone number on his hand. When you let go of him, Eddie looks at his hand in awe, like he has just won a million dollars. The truth is he felt like he had. He would tattoo your number on his skin if it meant that he would be able to see you again. You bombard his internal celebration with a peck on his cheek.

“Thank you for the ride, Eddie.”

“Which one?” He quips. You smile but roll your eyes as you regretfully pull away from him and hop out of the van. 

“You better call me tomorrow.” you warn 

“Sweetheart, it's gonna take everything in me not to call you as soon as I get home.” Eddie’s smile was from ear to ear. Heat rises to your cheeks and your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest. You turn and walk up the driveway with a matching grin. This night went from bad to worse to the best night you think you’ve ever had. 

Like the perfect gentleman, Eddie waits until he sees your door close before he pulls out of your driveway. When you close and lock your door you are met with silence and darkness, but you felt as though your joy could light the whole neighborhood. You slide down your front door and pull your knees to your chest. You let out a content sigh, followed by a giggle. If Billy wants to fuck around. He’s gonna find out. He thought that you would sit around and be walked all over? Absolutely not. He might think that he’ll win the heartbreak, but with your new arrangement with a beautiful brunette? Checkmate.

[jamdoughnutmagician]

Summer Lovin'

Steve Harrington x Reader (smut)

Word Count: 2,429

The blazing heat of the Hawkins' summer sun becomes too much for Steve to bear, especially when he's got you in his pool looking like every inch of his filthiest fantasies come to life.

Warnings:Smut, Steve fantasising about the reader, masturbation, hand-jobs, confessions of love, little bit of cutesy romantic fluff (I couldn't help it sorry!!) Don't hesitate to let me know if I've missed something that you want tagged!

Steve Harrington Masterlist // Masterlist

It wasn’t unusual for everyone to be gathered at the Harrington’s sprawling house, to take advantage of the sizable pool in their back garden when the midday sun of an Indiana summer became too much to bear. You and Robin wasted no time in jumping straight in, whilst Eddie laid back with his dark shades covering his eyes as he lazily floated on inflatable sun-lounger, completely unbothered by yours and Robin’s antics. The younger kids all took it in turns to dive into the pool to see who could make the biggest splash. Yes, with George and Bridget Harrington away, no-one was here to stop their only son inviting whoever he wanted to his house. Without the disapproving glare and sneer of his judgy parents, looking down at him for the company he chose to keep, Steve was free.

But what he forgot to factor in was that in inviting you over for a pool party, he would be forced to look at you in your swim-suit, and suddenly the little crush on his childhood best friend that he had been nursing for the better part of his pre-teen years and beyond, was a lot harder to ignore than it ever had been before. 

It was wrong of him to want you as badly as he did. Wrong of him to think of you in his most solitary moments of pleasure, you were his best friend for crying out loud! The person who had been there for him through everything, thick and thin. And yet he couldn’t help himself as he secretly watched you from behind his dark sunglasses from the comfort of his stretched out sun-lounger. Watching as you innocently splashed around in his pool with Robin. From the way the water droplets rolled over your sun-warmed skin, to how your matching floral two-piece bikini hugged your curves so perfectly, even down to the ever so enticing way that ties of your bikini’s strings were practically calling out to him, daring him to be the one to untangle the knot, to reveal every inch of soft skin. 

His ears are treated to the high-pitched squeals of laughter that if he thought about it enough could almost imagine that they were squeals of pleasure, keening whines that would tumble from your kiss-bitten lips, and there isn’t one part of him that doesn’t wish that it was him that could be the one to pull those sounds from you.

He prayed to whatever gods that were listening that the bulge of the semi he was beginning to sport was not as painfully obvious as what he felt it was. Strategically placing the long-ignored book he had been reading over the crotch of his swimming trunks, better to be safe than sorry right?

For lack of a better word Steve Harrington was well and truly fucked. 

“Hey Dingus! What are you doing all the way over there? It’s your pool, why don’t you get in?” Robin shouts.

“I'm alright Rob,” he shouts back before speaking up once more. “Actually I'm going to head in, I think we're running low on drinks, don’t wait up for me okay?” He says, nodding his head towards the cooler box of beers sitting on the garden table.

They weren't running low on drinks, far from it actually, if the fully stacked cooler was anything to judge by, but Steve had to get away. Perhaps he could slip inside, race to his bedroom, get himself off quickly and be back before anyone would be any the wiser.

All he knew was that his growing erection was about to be a much larger problem if he didn't act soon.

“Did Steve seem off to you, or is it just me?” you ask, turning to Robin.

“No, he was definitely acting weird. Who knows what goes on in that boy’s mind.” She chuckles with a dismissive shake of her head.

“I think I’m just going to go check up on him, see if he’s okay.” you say to Robin, pushing up on the pool’s edge before grabbing your towel and wrapping it around yourself off and heading inside in search of your best friend.

Steve hot-foots it up to his room where he slams the door behind himself with a hurried huff of breath.

Reaching down, Steve pulls the waistband of his swim trunks down just enough to free his straining erection from its confines. He brings his open palm up to his lips before spitting crudely in his hand, and reaching down to glide his spit-slick fist over himself in a costing stroke over the length of him. A shuddering moan falls from his lips as his hair falls down over his eyes, squeezing himself with a light pressure when he reaches the sensitive head of his cock.

With his cock in his hand, Steve’s thoughts, as they often did in these moments, turned to you. He thought about you and how pretty you looked in your bikini, the way the wet fabric clung to every soft curve, the way your tits were pushed together so enticingly, and how the golden glow of the hot august sun shone down on your skin. He couldn’t help but think about how you and how perfect you would look on your knees for him, eagerly awaiting the feel of his pre-cum glazed tip tracing your lips. 

You wander around the Harrington’s spacious kitchen, only to find it empty. Weird Steve said he was getting drinks, he should be here. Your feet carry you further into the house, quickly poking your head into the living room door, only to find it empty. 

Steve must have gone upstairs, so you follow suit, but as you reach the last few steps you can’t help but hear a strange noise coming from Steve’s room. You make it outside his room, knuckles poised over the door ready to knock when you realise all too quickly that’s the deep groaning noises of pleasure coming from the other side of the door. You weren’t stupid, you knew what went on in the privacy of a boy’s bedroom, and you were about to pull away, to allow Steve the privacy he so clearly needed, but that’s when you heard it. A growled moan of your name. 

Maybe you were hearing things, maybe it was a figment of your imagination, maybe some hopelessly horny part of you was hoping to hear your name falling from Steve’s lips, but then you hear it again. 

“Yeah, you'd take me so good wouldn't you, Honey. Always teasing me, you'd be so good for me, just wish you were my girl” his voice stutters out with another moan of your name.

You push on the door, finding it unlocked as it slowly swings open and your eyes are treated to the most spectacular view of Steve sitting on the edge of his bed, his thighs spread wide and tensing whilst his fist strokes over his thick cock.

The creaking squeak of the door gives you away, causing Steve’s head to whip up and he hastily tries to pull his shorts back up, hoping to god that if he closed his eyes that this would all just be a surreal dream.

And yet when he peeks his eyes open from underneath the shaggy mess of his hair, there you are, a towel wrapped around your body, your boobs pushed up by the tightly pulled starchy fabric.

“I-uh…fuck…I can explain..I think?” Steve stumbled, as flustered words fell from his lips in an attempt to save face.

And with an equally embarrassed expression on your face, your words bubble from you as you try to explain yourself.

“You ran off and I wanted to make sure you were okay and I couldn’t find you, but then I heard you calling my name and I’m sorry I barged in on you, I really shouldn’t have invaded your privacy like this” you nervously babble.

“I just needed to clear my head…amongst other things, obviously. You just looked so pretty and I couldn’t help it.” Steve begins “I tried to think of other things, I swear, but you were all I could think about, you’re what I always think about.” and before he even realises it, Steve feels his closest guarded secret unburden from his heart. 

“Y-you…you think about me?” you stutter.

Well, if secrets are being spilled, it’s better to come out with the full truth, no holes barred.

Bridging the space between you and Steve, you sit down next to him on the edge of the bed.

“I mean I guess there’s no use in hiding it anymore, but yeah, I’ve had a crush on you for the longest time. I’m sorry if that makes things weird between us.” His voice is suddenly small and dejected, as if he’d already shook hands and made peace with the imminent rejection he was sure to come his way.

“Well I guess I feel a little less guilty about my secret now.” you utter, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Because I feel the same way about you. Have done for a while, considering we're being honest.”

and oh suddenly like a switch has flipped in his mind Steve looks at you, really looks at you in all your easy and effortless beauty and he can't help the smile the spreads across his rosy cheeks. 

“Would I be a total dork if I asked you to kiss you right now?” He flushes.

“Lucky for you, I happen to like dorks.” You smile inching your way closer to him, closing the gap between your bodies, pressing your lips against his. 

This kiss starts out innocent enough, with gentle explorative pecks, but it soon becomes apparent that it's not enough for either of you, as his tongue slips between your lips and you're moaning into his mouth. The towel wrapped around your body slipping to reveal yourself to him as his hands roam every soft curve available to him. The lingering sweet scent of your coconut sun lotion filling his senses.

It's only when you're pressed up against him so closely that you're reminded of how you came to be in your current situation. His still half-hard cock pokes into your thigh as you're making out with him. An instant press of his arousal.

 You reluctantly pull away from his lips, smiling to yourself when Steve chases your lips for one final taste, before his lust-hazed eyes peek open.

“You want me to help you out with that, Stevie?” You offer seductively.

Steve feels his stomach flutter with butterflies. Stevie. It was a nickname you had called him for many years, but suddenly now it all felt different. It carried a different weight now. It was suddenly much more affectionate than it had ever been before.

“Help me out with…oh…oh..” Steve flushes even more when catches on to what you were saying. “You don't have to, I don't want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I didn't want to.” you say with a cheeky smile playing at your lips.

Steve shyly nods his head and mutters a soft ‘please’ and that is all the confirmation you need before you’re hooking your fingers into the waistband of his shorts and dragging them down his sturdy thighs.

With his cock free from his confines, you crudely let a string of saliva drool from your lips into your palm to slick your hand up before you reach down to tug your fist over his length.

“Is this okay?” you ask him, continuing to softly stroke up and down.

Steve is a picture of debauched pleasure, with his flushed face, and chest rising and falling with shuddering breaths. His hair sticks to his sweat-beaded forehead as you continue to work him over.

“Y-yeah..this is good..m-more than good” he stumbles over his words. “Feels fucking amazing.”

“Good…” you coo “I want you to feel good, Stevie.” you smile sweetly, the crude, wet sound of your slick fist gliding up his cock, and his whimpering moans echo out in the otherwise quiet bedroom.

“I’m not gonna…fuck...not gonna last long…” Steve groans, the sound nothing more than a low rumble. His breaths are quicker, as he fights against wanting to buck his hips to meet your touch. 

You smile deviously as twist your fist on the upstroke, lightly squeezing his glistening pink head before coasting back down his cock, grazing your thumb along the pulsing vein that runs the length of him.

“Honey, Please…” Steve wasn’t even sure what he was pleading for at this point, all he knew was that the way that you were teasing him had him just about to explode, teetering on the edge of pleasure, ready to fall over and give in to you.

“It’s okay Stevie…” you whisper, as you press your body close to his, leaving a soft kiss on his lips. “..Want you to come for me.”

And that is Steve’s undoing, your sweet whispered words of encouragement are enough to have him spilling rope after rope of cum over your knuckles. 

As he comes back down from his high, Steve fusses over the mess he’d made. Suddenly embarrassed about how badly he needed this.

But you kiss away his worries with a smile, before looking into his eyes and licking up the pearlescent drops glazing your skin.

“Fuck..you can’t just do that..” he huffs with a tired smile. “You’re going to get me going again.”

You shake your head at him with a soft laugh. 

“Come on, let’s head back down before things start to look suspicious.” you say standing up and making your way towards his door.

“Wait, what about you?” his honeyed hazel eyes sparkle with desire as he looks at you. “Let me make you feel good.” 

You make your way back across the room where Steve is still sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning down to him to place a sweet kiss on the tip of his nose.

“I’ll let you make it up to me and then some later, I promise, right now I just wanna go enjoy the rest of my summer.” you tug him by the hand with a giggle.

Whatever had just happened between you and Steve was a new and exciting development in your relationship, and although neither of you quite knew what you were to each other yet, it didn’t matter. You had all summer to figure it out, and for now you were quite content to just have fun.  

@paybacksawitch @penguinsandpotterheads @mrsjellymunson @aphrogeneias @onegirlmanytales @wroteclassicaly @rebelfell

[buddierecs]

post season 7 buddie fics

in honour of season 8 coming out in a few days, here is a list of fics that have been released over the hiatus set post season 7. all of these are general audience, teen and up or not rated (no smut) make sure to kudos/comment on these amazing works :)

ice cream before dinner (my beloved) by: cloudydaisies "gerrard messes with the team's schedules and eddie 'i just drove my son to flee the state' diaz is the only option to watch mara and jee-yun after school on tuesdays, which, shouldn't be a problem at all, right?" word count: 58k important tags: girl!uncle eddie, fluff, friends to lovers, love confessions, feelings realisation, minor buck/tommy, family feels take me home (to my heart) by: literalmetaphor "eddie and maddie end up in an impossible situation." word count: 20k important tags: car accidents, injury, hurt!eddie diaz, hurt!maddie han, maddie & eddie friendship, worried!evan buckley, getting together it's always on the tip of my tongue by: allyasavedtheday "eddie diaz vs the great romance paradigm." word count: 17k important tags: character study, therapy, emotional hurt/comfort, falling in love, demisexual!eddie diaz all my little words by: youbetsya "eddie: did you just send me an email?? buck: yeah lol eddie: why… i dont think you’ve ever emailed me actual words before. just stuff to print when your printer is broken buck: did you read it? eddie: Not yet. too busy trying to figure out why the fuck you’re emailing me buck: just read it dude 🙄" word count: 11k important tags: texting, idiots in love, getting together, eddie diaz mustache three strikes and you're out by: eightpackdiaz "buck's soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend chooses to ignore him every time the kiss cam points in their direction. eddie does the opposite" word count: 3.1k important tags: minor buck/tommy, cheating, kiss him, jealous!eddie diaz, tommy kinard bashing, first kiss a honey shade of blue by: hattalove "one toddler, two conversations, and so many missed opportunities for buck to act like a guy not in love with his best friend." word count: 8k important tags: getting together, pining!evan buckley, first kiss catatonia by: dqstcrdly "buck and eddie get into a car accident, buck thinks eddie is dead, and goes catatonic about it." word count: 13k important tags: car accidents, near death experiences, love confessions, angst, hurt/comfort, getting together, tommy kinard bashing knowing me, knowing you by: kiwibuckley "five times eddie was the better (boy)friend, and the one time he was the boyfriend" word count: 10k important tags: 5+1 things, friends to lovers, getting together, minor buck/tommy, tommy kinard bashing, eddie diaz loves evan buckley, petty!eddie diaz, pining sweet talk by: daisies_and_briars "eddie asks to crash at the loft while christopher is gone, struggling to be on his own. only problem? there's only one bed, and no couch." word count: 6.5k important tags: there was only one bed, minor buck/tommy, healing, couch theory this postcard tells you where we've been by: daisies_and_briars "eddie finds a collection of postcards buck sent to chris over his summer in el paso." word count: 3.5k important tags: getting together, first kiss, fluff, christopher diaz has two dads glass on the pavement under my shoe by: doitgently "buck takes a great big tumble. like always, eddie is right behind him." word count: 9.4k important tags: near death experience, major character injury, love confessions, angst with happy ending you'd have to stop the world (just to stop the feeling) by: wenttoafortuneteller "the eddie diaz gay realization arc we all deserve. in which bobby puts some pieces together, chimney sees something he shouldn’t, hen gets to have a conversation she’s been waiting to have for years, and buck can’t understand why his best friend is avoiding him." word count: 23k important tags: character study, catholic guilt, pre-relationship, self-discovery, self-acceptance, feelings realisation hope it hurts, burns & you finally grieve me by: dylaesthetics "eddie spontaneously visits a church and things fall into place." word count: 4.8k important tags: character study, religious guilt, angst, friends to lovers, getting together

[luvrsbian]

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐄

A/N: she's finally here!!! this was initially supposed to be a one shot but has kinda turned into a draft up of a pretty plotless, sweet, fluffy mini series. it follows canon for the most part minus eddies death ofc but because im bad with canon lore and science shit, its not heavily mentioned (some minor canon lore was changed but it's not super important.) this is a fem!reader, no use of y/n, set in 1992, 4k words, and i've kept reader pretty vague for inclusivity minus some background lore. this series is not 18+ (yet) but my page is, so please do not follow if you are a minor. thank you sweet baby mona @enam3l for beta-reading for me (ily)

MASTERLIST ✿ PART TWO

Eddie Munson liked his life. He liked his friends, even if a lot of them have now dispersed across the continental United States for school, jobs, general life (minus Robin who has somehow managed to make her way to Australia doing God knows what.) He liked his home, a house on the edge of town – slightly bigger than the old trailer – which he still shared with his uncle. He liked his style and hobbies and taste in music and movies that haven’t really changed much in the last 5 years since his final senior year. 

He really liked his job. 

Which felt odd for him to admit to himself.  It wasn’t anything like what he thought he would be doing. A younger Eddie Munson would imagine himself traveling city to city, adored by fans, living creatively and free spirited.  

But a middle school janitorial gig kept him young. One could argue 26 wasn't even that old, however, compared to his friends (who he'd already been older than) with their careers, relationships and growing families, he felt like a lonely old man. So, yeah, the awkward, funny, and extremely honest pre-teens made him feel young.  

Initially he thought the job would be lonely. It’s a small town with even smaller schools. Besides him, there was only one other night janitor that he alternated weekend cleans with and only really ran into during day-to-night shift changes. Ron was nice enough, older than Wayne, with a far higher patience for children. Unsurprisingly, behaviours from high school died hard and the teachers and administrative staff all kept to their own little cliques. Resulting in Eddie keeping to himself, rarely speaking outside of his custodian duties or the occasional faculty meeting. 

He didn’t even think he’d interact with the students aside from cleaning the odd vomit or getting stuck balls out of the gymnasium rafters. He unintentionally found himself yet again the outcasted mother goose to a small hoard of pre-teen metal heads when their unofficial leader, Matty Sherman, caught site of the various posters Ed keeps hung up on his office (custodial closet) door. The seventh grader quickly forcing himself under Eddies wings and refusing to budge. Matty was a good kid. Reminded Eddie a lot of himself at that age. He was loud, abrasive, and way too confident for such a gangly frame in ill-fitting clothes. Matty had hair though which 13-year-old Eddie couldn’t relate to. 

There was also Ms. Virginia Wagner. The eccentric, nurse who has been working at Hawkins Middle since Eddie was attending. Maybe even before that, he wasn’t quite sure and whenever he asked anything close to finding out her age, she quickly shut him down. She was sweet. She was funny. She was also a mean old hag sometimes, but God did Eddie love that about her. If he was just 20 - or more realistically 40 - years older and wasn’t almost certain she swings the other way, he’d shoot his shot.  

The Summer season was extremely uneventful for Eddie. Due to the kids being out of school, his hours were cut in more than half with only the yearly repairs and deep cleaning needing to be done. He went into work about 3 days a week, spending the extra free time to do some manual labour gigs here and there around town. When he wasn’t working, he was hidden away at home watching movies, listening to music, trying to plan out ongoing and future campaigns for Hellfire meetings that have begun to be fewer and far between now that everyone has dispersed. On some rare occasions when he didn’t feel like a complete shell of a person and was able to leave the house to socialize outside of life obligations, he met up with the few friends that remained in the Hawkins area (which at this point in time was really only Steve Harrington and Gareth Emerson.) 

It was now the Monday of the week before students would return back to these fluorescent lit halls. That meant all other faculty were now gracing the school to prepare for the year ahead. Organizing and prepping and finalizing lesson plans and class rosters.  

Eddie had a slight pep in his step as he walked through the halls, scuffed up sneakers squeaking on the shiny, extra polished tiles. He whistled a silent tune that clashed with the jingles of his keys that he swung around his middle finger. Getting to the janitors closet to put on his navy coverall and put his hair into a low bun. He zips up the stiff material, covering the self-altered muscle tank top that had the logo for some local band down in Indianapolis he saw a few years back before things went to shit. A cracked and stained mirror hanging up over his work sink being used to make sure his hair looked casually messy in the bun. With a final once over, he hooks his keys to the belt loop of his coveralls and preps for the day's work. A glance at his wristwatch, the one that has somehow survived hell and back just like him, reads 7:58. Just 4 hours and 2 minutes until lunch.  

He couldn’t wait. 

Eddie used those 4 hours and 2 minutes to check each stall in all bathrooms were fully stocked with toilet paper and the likes, clean the actual toilets themselves, and make sure the water was running properly in every sink. Once that was taken care of, he began on his biggest task of the week of dragging desks and chairs out of the back storage building to be put into classrooms. Sheryl from the administrative team having left the small packet of papers indicating how many seats each room would need for the coming year.  

He could move the chairs in stacks at a time but could only really stack two - maybe three if he was careful - desks on his hand truck before it became a safety problem. Once moved into the main building, he had to wipe them down, tighten any loose screws that could make them wobble, and make sure they were still in usable condition. Eddie had completed almost 3 of the 32 classrooms before lunch finally rolled around.  

He grabbed his lunch sack from the custodial closet and whistled on his merry way to the nurse's office. He’s been eating lunch with Virginia for as long as he can remember. Of course, there was those 5 years of High School and then the year of recovery following the events of his second senior year, and the summer breaks of course, but besides all those he’s been eating with her for a good 7 years.  

This ritual beginning in his 6th grade, the first year he moved in with Wayne, all sad eyed and past aside due to events outside of his control. Kids he had grown up with suddenly not wanting anything to do with him. He wouldn’t really make any friends again until 7th grade, and his first band of misfits was created, Corroded Coffin. 6th Grade was the worst year of his life until 1986 and now it’s about tied.  

Sadly, in middle school who you ate a meal with or gave the time of day too was so integral into maintaining the hierarchal balance of the ecosystem. It was bullshit. With everything that happened that lead to his father going to jail and him burdening his uncle, the kids of Hawkins middle school decided Eddie wasn’t worth risking their own reputations. He doesn’t remember exactly how it happened, his brain kicking the memory out at some point to make room for more important stuff like D&D lore. But he does remember he went from eating lunch in the bathroom to eating it in Nurse Wagner’s office.  

Even after being integrated back into the Middle school social circle, he couldn’t just leave her to eat lunch by herself. She needed him with his alternative music education and retelling of the fantasy books he’d been reading lately and his strong headedness that could keep up with her dry and sarcastic quips many interpreted as rudeness. Although Eddie would still refuse to admit it, in actuality he probably needed her more than she needed him. 

He doesn’t knock, just moseys his tall frame into the nurse's office, wide dimpled smile on his lips as he hears rummaging coming from the actual office area that was blocked off by a wall. He looks at the two plastic-y beds covered in paper sheets, inhaling that antiseptic smell that can only seem to be found in medical settings. No fluorescent lights were on, only natural light being let it from the two big windows.  

There are curtains on them now which surprises him. Floral pinks and yellows with lace on the edge that really fit the grandma vibes Virginia has but refused to acknowledge. The windows all have blinds, but curtains were deemed a non-necessary commodity by the school board budgeting team, meaning if you wanted curtains, you’re gonna have to fork money out of pocket for them. Eddie had asked Virginia about it once, commenting about how it would help spruce up the place. Make it look a little less sterile. She told him to go to hell, that she’s a nurse not rich. Any out-of-pocket money she spent on work only going towards things that actually matter, like the allergen friendly laundry detergent and the nicer, name brand candy for the candy bowl. 

Putting his lunch on the side table of the first bed, he lays down in a relaxed position. Hands behind his head, legs crossed, eyes closed, he lets out a relaxed sigh. 

“Virginia, dear, I really love what you’ve done with the place,” he calls out to her, hearing the close of the filing cabinet and footsteps soon following, “feels all homey now, dontcha think.” 

The footsteps stop. 

“I'm glad you like them. You feelin’ comfy there?” 

That was most definitely not Virginia Wagners voice. 

Eddie jolts up, eyes wide and cheeks red. He’s not one to get embarrassed easily but since recent events he’s been a bit more reserved in how comfortable he gets around strangers. And you were most definitely a stranger. A pretty stranger. A very pretty stranger in a teddy bear patterned scrub top and an oversized cardigan with embroidered sunflowers. You’re a disorienting mess of patterns and colors but you’re also, like, really pretty and Eddie isn’t sure how to go about this. 

“You’re not Virginia,” is all he can get his voice to come out with. 

“I’m not Virginia.” You give a chuckle. A positive response, Eddie thinks. 

“Where’s Virginia?” 

Eddie is now standing away from the bed and closer to the door, ready to run from the situation if needed (something he’s learned to embrace in the last few years.) You give him a friendly smile, hands in your cardigan pockets, the sleeves bunched up. You look cozy.  

“Florida. She’ll be in the Caribbean by the end of the month,” you supply. He can tell your fingers are fidgeting in your pockets. His hands are fidgeting at his waist, pinching at the material of his coveralls.  

“Why?” 

You shrug your shoulders, “Retirement.” 

“Oh,” Eddie sighs, eyes breaking contact with yours for the first time since standing, shifting to look at your white - almost pristine - sneakers on the tile floor her spent all summer mopping and waxing and removing scuff marks from. “That sucks.” 

You snort. Teeth biting your bottom lip to stop from laughing at him further during this awkwardly endearing meeting. Your own eyes looking him over now that he isn’t completely focused on you. He’s cute. His cheeks stained your favourite shade of pink once he realized you weren’t the now retired nurse he had been so fond of. Hands covered in jewlery. His inability to stay still so natural it makes you think he doesn’t even realize he’s been shifting his body weight back and forth from his toes to his heels this whole time. Tall, lean, maybe with some extra fluff hidden under the baggy attire. He’s got some shadow of hair on his cheeks. And if you weren’t a civil person and he wasn’t a stranger, you’d be begging to kiss at the column of his throat. 

Your gaze moves to look around the waiting part of the office to avoid thinking even more things about this guy. A brown paper bag chicken scratched with the words ‘ED LUNCH’ catches your eye. Before you have a chance to speak yourself, he starts his interrogation again. 

“Who are you?” 

Your attention cuts back to him quickly. With a smile that shows all your teeth and a hand leaving your pocket, held out for him to shake, you give your full name. 

He takes it with his own reserved smile. His hands and rings are warm, but they still tingle your skin from the unfamiliarity of the metal. You enjoy it you think. Before he can introduce himself, you beat him to the punch. 

“You must be Edward, right?” 

He grimaces, “Just Eddie,” your handshake falls. His hand back to his hip and your hand back into your pocket, “Just Eddie is fine. More than fine, actually. Preferred, really.” 

Another chuckle from you. Eddie knows he’s funny when he wants to be but if it’s this easy to make you laugh, he doesn’t ever want to stop. 

“Well, just Eddie,” you smirk at his eye roll, “you can join me for lunch if you’d like. I feel like my presence may have ruined your initial plans,” you let out a huff of a laugh and gesture to the lunch sack by the window. He grimaces again at your wording and shakes his head. 

“It didn’t ruin any plans just was shocking ‘sall,” his hand moves from his hip to rub at his slightly scruffy chin, pretty brown eyes back on yours, “but um, yeah. Yes, I’d love- like to join you for lunch.” 

You smile. He smiles back. 

Eddie has sat in this chair, in this office, and eaten his lunch for years. Today it feels awkward and unfamiliar.  

It might have something to do with you sitting where Virginia used to sit. Same chair, same desk, same office, but completely different. Virginia didn’t decorate her space, leaving it functional and impersonal, if people wanted to know about her life they could ask her. She wasn’t going to flaunt it.  

You were very different. An orange, gaudy looking vase filled with fake flowers. A matching candy bowl with various sugary, little treats. A picture frame of you and what he could only assume was your family based on the similar features shared between each person. A decorated Coke can with the top cut off and trimmed with glued on lace and covered in holographic stickers of vibrant cartoon animals, sparse enough to still see the iconic red drink logo, was now holding an assortment of colorful gel pens.  

Even the chair wasn’t safe from your interior decorating, a purple knitted blanket folded over the top of the rolling seat. The seat itself now adorning a red, white, and black cushion of an ugly faced bulldog with a spiked color and cap with the letter G, the words ‘GEORGIA BULLDOGS’ splayed above him. A sports team he assumed.  

The conversation hadn’t started back up since the introduction in the sick room. Both of you taking your respective seats in the office area, opening your lunch bags and digging in.  

Eddie being a creature of habit brought his usual bag of pretzels, a can of Pepsi, and a sandwich made of whatever he could find in the kitchen. Today it was two slices of whole wheat, mayo, lettuce, the last piece of deli ham, and shredded cheese.  

Your own lunch seemed much more put together. For starters, you had an actual lunchbox, a bulky and vibrant plastic thing with Snoopy sleeping on his dog house on the front. Inside, there was your own ziploc bag of green grapes, a can of Coke, and a sandwich cut into triangles. White bread, crunchy peanut butter, and grape jelly. A Little Debbies Swiss Rolls pack sitting on the corner of your desk for dessert. 

He’s mid chew on the final bite of his sandwich, half his Pepsi left, his pretzels being the first thing devoured, when you speak up. Your own sandwich having on triangle section left, grapes gone, and Coke untouched. 

“Have you always lived in Hawkins?” 

You’re wiping your mouth with a folded paper towel, curious eyes focused on him. You’re very good at that, he’s realized. Eye contact. Focusing on your center of attention. Eddie has never been good at it, having to remind himself to look at the person talking to him. It’s polite, Wayne would say, shows people you’re listening and interested in what they have to say. Eddie gets so worked up in remembering to seem focused, he loses it and doesn’t hear what’s being said. He hasn’t had that problem with you so far. He thinks he could look at and listen to you all day if you let him. 

“Born and bred,” he swallowed his bite and shrugs his shoulders, rubbing his hands together to get the crumbs off, “you’re not though, are you. Feel like I’d remember you,” he raises an eyebrow. Feeling a little more confident in himself, especially with the obvious signs of you not being a local, and gives a playful smirk. 

“You got me,” you hold your hands up in mock surrender, moving your arms back to rest your elbows on the edge of the desk, “I’m from Georgia.” 

Eddie nods, the seat cushion making sense now. It’s your home team for… sports. A sport. Probably football. Eddie mentally pats himself on the back for guessing it was a sports team. Good on him for knowing sports. (Eddie doesn’t know sports.) 

“So,” Eddie lulls, small talk never being his forte. Much more interested in getting into the nitty gritty of conversation when interested in someone but he doesn’t know you yet. He needs to find something to relate with you on and he can’t do that with tidbits he may know from growing up in town like he could other people his age or older here. “You’re like a southern chick,” it was your turn to grimace.  

“You’re really bad at this,” you snort and shake your head, finishing up the last of your own sandwich. Tidying up your desk, throwing away the ziploc bag and sandwich wrapping and paper towels. Opening the coke can and moving the swiss rolls pack to in front of you, looking back to Eddie. With a tilt of your head and saccharine grin you ask, “Splitsies?” 

He nods at the opportunity to get a sweet little treat before addressing your initial comment, “Small talk requires talking and I just don’t really do that anymore with people who don’t already know me or just have a preconceived idea of who I am,” he shrugs his shoulders again, voice softer, slight regret in being too real. Eyes watching your fingers open the package, folding another paper towel (which he has now realized are coming from a roll kept in the lowest drawer of your desk), and setting one of the processed roll cakes on the indented paper before placing it in front of Eddie’s seated and slouched body. “Thank you,” He looks back up to you and you’re already looking at him. 

“Virginia told me a lot about you,” you smirk, lifting your own cake to take a bite. Your eyes not leaving his except for split a second to give an appreciative glance and hum to the cream filled ‘pastry.’  

“We’ve been corresponding for months,” you snicker at your own use of the word, making you feel like some sort of 18th century countess or captain, rather than a young nurse taking over the position of an older nurse.  

He looks panicked at this reveal. Which is cute considering he had a bit of white cream on his upper lip. Although he looked so pretty when his brow furrowed, it was clear he was frightened so you were quick to reassure him. 

“All good things, of course. I think she’s just worried about you. It’s cute, really, just really cute.” Another kind smile on your lips and your hand holding out the paper towel - his now eaten roll was sat on - as hint for him to clean his mouth off. 

Eddie knew Virgina wasn’t one to gossip but the prospect of a rare new person in town he’s actually interested in, being privy to all his shit-uations without him telling them himself, scared him. But Virginia did love to meddle and that may be worse. She was a big supporter of Eddie needing friends his own age.  

Letting out a sigh of relief that his tragic history had yet to be exposed, Eddie returned your smile with his own half one. You reach into your desk again, pulling out a letter instead of paper towels this time. ‘Edward’ scrawled in a familiar, loopy handwriting with blue ink on the white envelope caught his eyes. Eyebrows furrowed in confusion and intrigue.  

You hold it out for him to take like it was something precious, “This is for you.” From Virginia, is unspoken but recognized between the both of you. Who else would it have been from. Eddie flushing as he realized, Virginia never told him about you. Virginia never even told Eddie she’d be leaving. They didn’t speak much, or really at all, during the summer unless they happened to run into each other outside of these brick walls.  

Callused finger pads grazed your palm when he took the letter from you, he kept his eyes focused on examining the letter. A sad smile on his lips appreciating the loops of the E and W and curves of the D’s. Realistically he knew Virginia probably wasn’t gonna be gone from Hawkins forever, she had roots here. A son. That’s son kid or maybe kids now, he wasn’t sure, hadn’t checked in on Rick since he got out of jail in ‘88. But it still hurt that she was gone, without a word, and was happy enough to talk to her replacement about him but not to him about her. You. 

“I’m gonna read this later,” he mumbles and puts the offending but appreciated letter in his deep pocket. A quick glance at his watch read it’s been about an hour since making his way into the nurses office, lunch was over. He threw his trash out in the bin by your desk and gave you a friendly smile, standing from the seat in front of your desk. 

“Maybe we could do this again sometime,” eyes shifting around the office again, not really taking things in, just needing to not get trapped back into your gaze. “Ya know, with my lunches free now and everything,” he humorlessly chuckles. 

“Eddie,” you spoke softer than you had before, a more sympathetic smile on your lips, “I’d really like that.” 

He looks at you now. You have really shiny eyes. What a weird observation, Eddie thinks, but it’s true. With a quick wave of his hand before retreating them back into his pocket, fingers playing with the paper edges of Virginias letter. He begins his trek out the door.  

“Hey, next time though,” he stumbles in a spin to walk backwards while speaking, “We’ll speak more about you than about me. Feel’s like you know too much about me,” he huffs with a smug smile before spinning back to look forward. “See ya, Peach.” 

Your sweet laughter follows him out into the hall. You call out, “See ya, Eddie,” to his retreating back, watching the door long after he’s left.  

“Peach,” you snort and shake your head, teeth tugging on your bottom lip to stop from smiling too wide. 

the clean up crew (taglist): @avobabe87 @bakugouswh0r3

comment or ask to be added to the clean up crew!

[nimonabigbang]

I was busy with the stars (you were looking at me)

Written by @remarkablebookbean

Art by Tucan JM | @sonsuzjm | Instagram: tuc4n_ | TikTok: tuc4n_jm

“You know you’re not sneaky right?” A grin bordering on shit-eating crosses her face as the shorter person jolts. It's not funny when you’re the one being scared is it Nimona? Gloreth chuckles. But I could get used to being the one scaring her for once to be honest. “Jesus Christ Blondie, I think you stopped my heart for a second.” The shorter girl dramatically holds her hand over her chest as she tries to regain her pride. Gloreth looks over their messy locks down to their scruffy boots, her smile drops as she notices new scrapes and what looks like a fresh bruise on their cheek. [...] “Why are you here anyway?” Gloreth asks, her gaze piercing in contrast to her softer tone. She gives Nimona a look that makes it clear that brushing this question off wasn’t an option. They sigh and run a hand through their hair. “Wanna get out of here?” or a Gloreth/Nimona Small Town AU where they spend a summer night together at the lake. They are very gay and bad at expressing that.

Content warnings and tags below the cut:

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: F/F

Fandom: Nimona (2023)

Relationship: Gloreth/Nimona (Nimona)

Characters: Gloreth (Nimona), Nimona (Nimona)

Additional Tags: Pre-Slash, Fluff, Alternate Universe - Small Town, Pining, She/Her and They/Them Pronouns for Nimona (Nimona), Underage Drinking, Idiots in Love, Summer, Implied/Referenced Harassment, being neurodivergent in school and everything that comes with that, Lakes, Fireflies, Gloreth is a Gifted Kid, Gloreth ‘totally not in love with her bestie’ [surname], Gloreth POV, Nimona Big Bang 2024 (Nimona)

Words: 5,002

Chapters: 1/1

[roanofarcc]

BABYDOLL: CHAPTER ONE. STORM BREAK

jj maybank x fem!routledge OC // read on Ao3

In which a boy with zero self preservation falls in love with a girl clawing at life.

chapter summary. lottie routledge sympathizes in the woes of womanhood with wheezy cameron; the incoming hurricane is nowhere near as scary as a woman in button up with a sympathetic smile.

word count. 3.5k || masterlist

next chapter

Season One. 

If there was one thing the rich folks of Kildare Island liked more than day drinking, it was having literally anyone else look after their kid. They didn’t care if that person was an underpaid lifeguard trying to enjoy their lunch break. 

“This is so stupid!” A young girl cried from inside a bathroom stall. 

Lottie Routledge pulled a towel closer around her shoulders in an attempt to combat the building's air conditioning. She wreaked of sunscreen and chlorine, but the country club locker rooms were overwhelmed with lemon-scented cleaner. The shiny white tiles and glittering fixtures seemed to laugh at Lottie every time she entered, reminding her that even rich people’s bathrooms were nicer than anything she’d ever owned. 

“It is stupid,” Lottie replied. “But it’s an unfortunate side-effect of womanhood.” 

The young girl was quiet for several moments before she emerged from the stall dressed in her swimsuit and the pair of shorts Lottie had worn to work that morning. They were a little big on the pre-teen, but they were better than anything else she could have offered. 

“I can never show my face here again.” 

Lottie bit back a laugh, amused as the dramatics. “Wheezie, I don’t think anyone even noticed besides me.” 

The youngest daughter of the Cameron family let out air from her cheeks, which were tinted red from the run and from the embarrassment of getting surprised with her period at the pool. 

Wheezie came to the pool often, always dropped off by her brother who then disappeared to play golf with his fellow douchy rich-kid friends, her mom who then joined the other young wives at the bar for mimosas, or her sister who then vanished to do whatever Sarah Cameron spent her summer afternoons doing. Wheezie was one of the better kids who Lottie watched during her lifeguarding shifts. She followed the rules and liked to make small shit-chat with Lottie on slower days. Which was why she didn’t hesitate to flag down the girl before she stepped into the pool. 

“It’s still embarrassing.” The kid dramatically fell onto one of the benches. An odd look crossed her face before she reached into the back pocket of her shorts and pulled something out. A joint was pinched between her fingers and Lottie was suddenly mortified. 

She must have forgotten to take it out after her latest smoking session on the beach was cut short by a rowdy group of Kooks who were trying to act like they owned the place. The joint was unsmoked so she pocketed it for next time but forgot to take it out before she crashed for the night. 

Lottie snatched it from Wheezie and shoved it in her duffle bag. 

“Was that a weed?” Wheezie asked, innocently. 

“No.” A weird beat of silence passed between them before Lottie switched gears. “Is your sister coming to get you or what?” 

With a nod, Wheezie glanced at her phone. “She’s here. I told her I was hiding in the locker room.” 

Less than a minute later, Sarah Cameron entered with a certain “kook-ness” to her that made Lottie want to both make herself smaller and be mean. It was a confusing set of emotions that came with the rich folks on the Island. Lottie loved to hate them but was too scared to hate them too loudly. 

Sarah Cameron was a pretty blonde, sun-kissed, and glossy-lipped. She was the definition of the perfect Kook party girl, with all of the money and notoriety to never have to worry about anything in her life. It sounded like jealousy, partially because it was. Lottie was a lot of things, including a teenage girl living in the hand-me-downs of her friends and brother. But that wasn’t the only reason she had a distaste for Sarah Cameron. 

The Kook and Lottie’s best friend, Kiara, had a messy history. Kie hated Sarah, and vice-versa. As Kie’s best friend, it was Lottie’s job to also dislike the blonde. But in instances like the one she was in, Lottie tried to save some face. 

“Hey,” she greeted with an awkward wave and tight-lipped smile. 

Sarah gave Lottie a once-over, making her feel even more uncomfortable in her work-issued swimsuit. “Hey,” Sarah replied before turning her attention to her little sister. “What happened? What’s the emergency?” 

Wheezie’s cheeks deepened their red color. “I started by period,” she grumbled through gritted teeth. 

With a gentle sigh, Sarah patted her sister’s back. “Come on, I’ll have Topper take us to get some ice cream, okay?” She gestured toward the exit, but Wheezie didn’t get up. 

“No way! I can’t go out there, not until I know no one will see me.” 

“It’s not a big deal-” Sarah started but was swiftly cut off. 

“That’s what she said too, but you’re both liars!” 

Lottie’s alarm rang on her phone, telling her she needed to return to work and yelling at sticky-fingered children trying to drown each other in the pool. She had spent her whole lunch break with Wheezie and abandoned her food in the kitchen fridge. 

“How about I go check and make sure the coast is clear?” she suggested, earning a nod from Wheezie. Lottie stuck her head out of the door, looking both ways up and down the hall for any sign of the country club patrons, but especially Wheezie’s little group of friends. No one was around, considering they had just started serving lunch at the club and most people were probably enjoying a meal worth two of Lottie’s paychecks. 

Reentering the locker room, she reported the good news to Wheezie, who quickly gathered her things and beelined for the door. 

Sarah lingered behind for a moment, looking around awkwardly at the empty room like it was suddenly super interesting. “Thanks for helping her,” she said. 

Lottie waved her off with a quick, “Don’t mention it.” 

The sisters left, and Lottie dragged herself back to the lifeguard stand. A striped umbrella provided shade from the sun, but the summer heat baked her skin. Her whistle rested between her lips, ready to be blown at the first kid who took off running on the slippery concrete or to break up a game of chicken that got too rowdy. 

The rest of her shift took its sweet time getting over, but once it finally did, she boarded her bike, somewhat regretting giving Wheezie her only pair of shorts. But she sucked it up and cruised down the streets of Kildare until the glittering mansions morphed into run-down little homes. The magic of Figure Eight faded into the Cut, the side of the island that homed herself and her friends. It was nowhere near as grand as the rich side, but to Lottie, it was much more comforting. Figure Eight was stuffy, plastic, and clean-cut. The Cut was the opposite. 

Her house, affectionately referred to as the Chateau, housed her and her twin brother. It was by no means perfect, but it was her home. The place always smelled faintly of weed covered up by air freshener and the ghost of their dad’s cologne and their mom’s cinnamon potpourri that only Lottie ever replaced. There was a hole in the roof that leaked every time it rained and the window in her bedroom had a broken lock. There was a comfort to it that she felt like no mansion could replicate. 

The only thing it lacked was the presence of their missing dad and their runaway mom. To make up for it, Lottie and John B. filled the void with their friends, who were there almost every night. 

“Ah, there she is!” Lottie was greeted by a booming voice when she pulled up to the Chateau. Dropping her bike on the grass, she hurried over to her brother and friends all gathered around a small campfire, snacking on pizza and sipping on beers. 

She took the seat next to JJ Maybank, who smiled wide as he slung an arm around her shoulder. “Anyone drown at work today?” he asked. 

Shoving him lightly, Lottie shook her head. He dropped his arm but not his smile, passing her a beer from the cooler he had his feet propped up on. 

Out of their little group, JJ had been in her and her brother’s lives the longest. They met him in third grade, and the three became inseparable. They were too intertwined in each other lives to ever leave it at that point, not that Lottie wanted that anyway. 

John B. clapped from across the fire. “Wow, way to do your job, Lot. Gotta keep those Kooks safe, right?” She threw her beer bottle cap at him, but he jerked to the side and it landed in the grass. He stuck his tongue out at her, and she returned the gesture. 

Despite being twins, they didn’t look too much alike. John B.'s dark brown eyes and dirty blond hair contrasted with Lottie's light blue eyes and dark brunette waves. They also functioned differently. John B. was more laid back, resting in the weeds kind of person while Lottie needed a clear cut path to figure out where she was going. It didn’t matter how unalike they looked or acted, the twins were known around the island thanks to their dad’s disappearance at sea nine months prior. 

Their dad was declared to be dead after three months of searching turned up nothing, but John B. had refused to sign off on it. He said he wouldn’t believe anything without a body, and since he didn’t sign, Lottie didn’t either. Did she think her dad was still alive out there? No. Did she want to believe her brother was right? Of course she did. John B. was hopeful and relentless, but Lottie was doubtful and complaisant. 

“And how did you assholes spend your afternoon?” Lottie asked, snagging a slice of pizza to cure her hunger since missing her lunch break. 

“We snuck into an unfinished Kook house. Real sweet place,” said JJ. 

Kiara scoffed loudly and Lottie could tell in the dim light of the fire that she was fired up. “Sweet? It was the definition of unnecessary! No one needs that many bathrooms with fancy toilets. No one. And don’t even get me started on how they built those houses where a turtle sanctuary was.” 

“Seriously, don’t get her started,” John B. cut in with a smirk on his lips. “That’s all she talked about while we were there.” 

Kie narrowed her gaze at John B. slightly offended and still clearly angry about the new housing developments happening on the island, which she had been bad-mouthing since before they even began. Lottie didn’t disagree with her. The less rich people who moved there and bought up plots along the beach, the better off she thought Kildare would be.

“Yeah, because it’s ridiculous!” Kie said. 

Pope jumped in before John B. could poke Kie even more, teasing her into a full-fledged argument. “We weren’t there long, though,” he said. “Security showed up and chased us off. We made a clean getaway in the Twinkie, though.” 

The group always sought out trouble; it was like they were unable to avoid it. And it was contagious because every time Lottie was with them, she fell right into their slightly reckless habits like breaking into unoccupied and unfinished homes despite being run out of there more than once. What they had wasn’t the Kooks' kind of invincibility, cushioned by money that allowed them to do whatever the hell they wanted without consequence. What the Pogues had was pure adrenaline and bad decision-making. The only thing they had to fall back on was each other. 

“You’re lucky they didn’t arrest your asses,” Lottie said with a shake of her head. 

JJ nudged her arm with his shoulder, grinning in the orange glow. “They couldn’t catch us, even if they tried.” 

➤

The last thing Lottie wanted to do was spend her morning at the DCS office. The place held an uncomfortable energy and a fake sense of security that made her chew on her fingernails. Across the desk sat a woman in a nice suit and much too official for Lottie’s liking. 

Despite knowing, realistically, someone would figure out she and John B. were living without an adult since their dad disappeared, she prayed for some kind of oversight. She thought maybe they’d overlook them and not catch their mistake until they turned eighteen and were free to continue living without adult supervision. They were managing just fine on their own with each other. 

“It’s come to our attention that the two of you are unemancipated minors living on your own,” the woman said, flickering her gaze between the twins. 

On their way over, John B. it was best to lie and pretend like their uncle had been watching them the entire time. The people from DCS weren’t idiots but she supposed they didn’t necessarily have proof of their lie, that was until they decided to come around their house and see that their uncle was very much not in the picture whatsoever. 

John B. pursed his lips, something he did right before lying. “No. We’re definitely not.” 

The woman sighed softly, waiting for an answer from Lottie with the clear hope that she wouldn’t lie to her face. But Lottie shook her head in agreeance with her brother. 

“I need honesty to help the both of you.” 

“We are being honest,” said John B. 

“Okay.” The woman glanced down at the file opened on her desk. Lottie wondered what it said about them in there. What kind of information did they have on them? “Then when was the last time you spoke to your uncle?” 

John B. pretended to think, glancing at his watch. “Thirty-four minutes ago.” 

“And the last time you saw him?” 

That time, Lottie answered, “Two hours and forty-three minutes.” 

The woman was quiet for a moment, closing the file with another sigh. She had a gaze of disapproval and pity in her eyes like a disappointed mother. From the photos that littered her desk, Lottie presumed she was a mother. Or maybe they were photos of kids she saved from shitty situations. Their life wasn’t perfect without their parents around, but they were well-off all things considered. Lottie was certain they’d continue to be fine; way better than they’d be in some group home on the mainland. 

“We’re going to come out there tomorrow and talk to your uncle. If he’s not there, we’re going to move forward with foster care.” Lottie grimaced, not so subtly. “I want to assure you both that we are going to find you a safe and loving home.” 

Lottie called bullshit, and so did John B. but they didn’t say anything else until they were out of the building. Off in the distance, storm clouds loomed, matching their frustration. 

“This so stupid,” John B. groaned, running a hand down the length of his face. 

Every time she thought about the possibility they’d be put in foster care, her stomach ached painfully. Once DCS started sniffing around their rouse of being taken care of by their uncle, she dreamed of her life in the Cut being pulled out from under her. That’s why she started biting her nails again, a bad habit she thought she kicked years ago. 

“What if they split us up?” Lottie asked, her voice small. Leaving her home, leaving the island, was one thing, but she had never been without her brother. Since they were born, she and John B. did everything together. They were the only family they had left. And they didn’t always see eye to eye, but they looked out for each other no matter what. If they split them up and Lottie lost that, she wasn’t sure what she’d do. 

He looked startled like he hadn’t even thought of that as a real possibility, but he steeled himself quickly. “No way,” he said. “They’re not taking us anywhere and they’re not splitting us up.” She wasn’t sure it was as easy as that, but she didn’t want to ponder the other “what ifs.” And it made her feel a little less doomed, even though they had no real plan on how to avoid DCS. There wasn’t a chance in hell that their uncle would magically show up tomorrow. They’d be caught in their lie, that was almost certain. The only thing that could buy them some more time lied within the encroaching clouds that blew in from the coast. 

➤

“Those are un-surfable waves, dude!” Pope shouted above the claps of thunder that echoed for miles. Impressive waves pounded the shore, aggressive and as dreary as the gray skies overhead. Rain poured in buckets over their heads, soaking them to the bone before they even stepped foot in the ocean. 

The beach was lined with signs saying it was closed, but no one was around to monitor whoever was insane enough to venture to the beach in the middle of a hurricane. Agatha was on a war path, but the worst wasn’t supposed to hit until later that night, leaving plenty of time to catch some waves before they grew too intense to surf or too calm in the storm’s aftermath. 

Lottie hiked her surfboard up as it started to slip from her grasp. The waves were much larger than usual, but they didn’t look un-surfable, yet. Besides, they had surfed plenty of storms before, and if DCS was ready to take her away from the ocean, from her home, she at least had to get out one last time. 

They had postponed coming to their house to speak to their uncle, who hadn’t been around in months, because of the hurricane. It only bought them a little bit of time, a day or two max. The island knew how to bounce back from a storm, their livelihood depended on it. Even when the Cut’s power was the very last to be fixed, they were crafty and hardworking people who knew just how to get by. If hurricane Agatha was their last hurrah, Lottie was going to spend it doing something she loved. 

“Says who?” John B. said before taking off toward the water. Lottie followed, excitement fluttering inside her stomach as another shot of thunder rattled. Pope cursed something under his breath before he ran after them right into the angry ocean. 

Splashing into the cool water, Lottie braced for the intensity of the current. Harsh waves sprayed her face with salt water and rose goosebumps along her arms. The three of them paddled out a ways before they took turns catching the beautiful and daunting waves. 

Between the hurricane winds and needle-like rainfall, staying on the board for too long was impossible, but each time Lottie wiped out, she relished the feeling of kicking her way to the surface before breaking the water with a bubble of laughter erupting from her throat.  

She had never been scared of the water; that wasn’t a fear most people who grew up on the island had. The ocean felt like a second home to her; it was where she felt the most thrilled and most at peace. Their dad had taught them to swim when they were very young, tossing them into the water and telling them to keep their head above the waves. Since then, Lottie couldn’t stay away. She was a damn good swimmer, which landed her a job at the Island Club as a lifeguard. And that was why she had no fear riding the waves Agatha sent her way. 

Crawling back up onto her board, she sent Pope a wink, who returned it with a nervous shake of his head. The storm was growing more intense by the minute, and they’d be stupid to stay out there too much longer. Plus, she didn’t want Pope to have a panic attack out there. He had only caught one wave and spent the rest of the time watching her and John B., making sure no one died. 

John B. seemed ready to go as well. He sat on his board a little way away from them, looking at something off in the distant water. Lottie cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled, “John! Let’s turn in for tonight. I’m starving!” 

He turned around at the sound of her voice, brows furrowed. “Did you guys see that?” 

“See what?” asked Pope.

“A boat. Someone’s in a boat out there.” 

Lottie strained her eyes to look out further into the water, but all she saw was growing waves. “Please, no one’s stupid enough to take their boat out in the middle of a hurricane.” 

“Says the one who suggested surfing during one,” Pope retorted. Lottie rolled her eyes and started to paddle back towards shore, Pope hot on her heels and eager to be back on dry-ish land. John B. wasn’t far behind, forgetting about the supposed boat he saw. 

On shore, the sand whipped around, and the trees swayed, bending in the wind and testing their luck. Oddly, that was how Lottie felt, like a tree in a hurricane, trying to stay upright. She certainly wasn’t the luckiest, but she hoped the next couple of ways didn’t break her too harshly. All she wanted to do was stay there, with her friends, for as long as the universe would let her.