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lightsoutletsgo · 8 months ago

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flowers are a language of their own — mv.1

pairing: max verstappen x reader word count: 4.2k warnings: slight angst

four times max gives you flowers and the first time you reciprocate, a childhood friends to lovers oneshot this is basically inspired by gwen and for gwen 😭 @verstappen-cult once again thanking you for my max brain rot bc these conversations are just DOING something to me skskksjsj but MWAH! I hope you like it my love 🤍 happy reading! mimi

i. daisies; new beginnings, innocence, cheerfulness (age 6) You hadn’t been at your new school very long, having moved to the town recently. You’d struggled with making new friends, the new language making things even more difficult. But this had really ruined your day. Your bottom lip jutted out and began to wobble as you looked at your drawing you’d spent the whole morning perfecting before tidy-up time. What had once been a beautiful explosion of scribbled crayon colours across one page now lay in two halves. It was more than your poor six year old brain could handle and so you immediately burst into tears. Wailing and sobbing, your teacher hurried over to see what the issue was. Between gasping inhales and snotty sobs you pointed to your crumpled torn drawing. She picked it up and turned to address the class of wild six year olds, “Alright class, does anybody know what happened to Y/N’s picture?” Your teacher’s voice was gentle, “You won’t be in trouble but our friend is very sad so we need to apologise and make it right okay?” Your bottom lip wobbled as your sniffles quietened a little and a small voice could be heard from the back of the classroom, “I didn’t mean to!” A small boy stepped forwards, bright blonde hair with blue eyes and you glared at him. He looked down at the floor as he awkwardly scuffed his shoe against the carpet. The teacher approached him and crouched down, “Thank you for being honest Max… Can you come and say sorry?” He nodded and took the teacher’s hand as she lead him over to you, “I’m sorry…” His apology was accented by a slight lisp and you frowned, arms crossing in front of your chest. “Thank you Max, Y/N? Max said it was an accident and that he’s sorry okay?” You let out a slight ‘hmmph’ as the teacher straightened up at the sound of the lunch bell. Max was quick to run out of the classroom with his friends but you plodded behind the group, still sad about your artwork.

You grabbed your lunchbox from your locker and looked for a chair in the lunch hall. Spotting your favourite yellow chair you couldn’t help but gasp as your little legs headed over as fast as they could carry you. You sat down and opened your lunchbox, legs swinging under the table. You’d barely taken two bites of your sandwich before a boy approached the table. You looked up and saw Max standing there, his hands behind his back. “I’m sorry I broke your drawing.” Max did his best to speak so you’d understand. “‘S fine.” You grumbled, annoyed he was talking to you. Six year old you could really hold a grudge… His cheeks tinted pink as he removed his hands from behind his back to hold out a small bunch of daisies he’d clearly picked from the playing field. Your eyes widened and your mouth dropped open. “Here, for you…” He took a step closer and you held your hand out for him to gently place the flowers in your palm. Your eyes looked at him and you noticed how his knees were slightly muddy and there was a streak of dirt on his cheek. You giggled and he beamed back at you, you suddenly felt very shy,

“D-do you want to sit here?” You patted the seat next to you, “We can eat lunch together?” Max nodded, racing off to grab his lunchbox. He dashed back and sat next to you, unzipping his lunchbag to compare the contents with yours. “Are we going to be friends Max?” He nodded enthusiastically, taking your hand in his, “Mhmm! Best friends Y/N! So you can call me Maxie!”

ii. yellow amaryllis; pride, happiness, strength, determination (age 18) “Smile!” You stood with your friends, taking pictures in your graduation gowns and giggling together. But your heart panged, something - or rather someone - was missing from your day. Your eyes scanned the hall, desperately looking for a familiar blonde head. Despite knowing he was currently halfway round the world at a Grand Prix, “Boo!” A hand covered your eyes and a grin spread across your face at the familiar voice, “Maxie!” Turning around, you jumped into his arms and he laughed out loud, “Easy there bug!” You could hear your friends and family laughing and taking pictures of the two of you behind you but you still didn’t pull away, too embarrassed to let anyone see that you had tears welling up in your eyes. “I didn’t think you’d be able to make it…” Max squeezed you a little tighter, “I left as soon as the race was over, there was no way I was missing this!” You pulled back and he wiped the tear that had slipped down your cheek. He let go of you and extended his arm towards you, holding out a beautiful bouquet of yellow amaryllis flowers, complete with yellow and white ribbons.

“Max,” you gasped “they’re so beautiful!” he nudged your shoulder with his, “Hey, you deserve it. They stand for pride, strength, happiness and determination.” “Determination” You spoke at the same time, finishing the sentence together. His eyes stared at you so adoringly, you felt like you couldn’t catch your breath. The moment was broken by your parents urging you to stand together for a picture. “What a beautiful couple!” You heard a teacher say as they walked past, “Oh no we’re not-” “Me and him? No way-” Both you and Max spoke over each other, completely missing the knowing looks your friends and family all gave each other. You couldn’t help the fresh wave of giggles that overtook you as Max pulled you into his side. You could have sworn that for the briefest of seconds, butterflies took flight in your stomach but you quickly brushed it off, blaming it on the excitement of the day.

iii. - yellow roses; friendship | bluebells; comfort (age 22) Max couldn’t deny the way that panic flashed through his entire body when he answered your call and heard nothing but your sobs on the other end. “Maxie!” You hiccuped, “Y/N? What happened? Are you okay?” He stood up, not caring that he was interrupting an important team meeting. His alarm grew even more when your only response was to cry even harder. He looked back at the group of people sat around the conference table, “I’m sorry but it’s a family emergency, I have to go.” He raced down the corridor and poked the elevator button far more times than was necessary. “Talk to me bug… I can’t help if you don’t explain what’s going on.” “He cheated Max! I went to his place and he was in bed with my roommate.” Max felt a weird combination of calm and anger wash over him at the same time. Calm because he knew you were safe and anger because who the fuck did your boyfriend, well ex-boyfriend, think he was? Fuck the elevator, Max headed for the stairs, wanting to get to his car and book a flight to you as soon as possible. “Oh Y/N…” “Said he only did it because he knew that I’d been cheating on him with you.” You heard Max scoff, “God he’s so fucking dumb Y/N… I never really liked him, you know that right? You’ve always been too good for him…” You heard Max sigh on the other end of the line and you curled up into an even smaller ball in your bed, pulling Max’s hoodie up even more as your nose inhaled the comforting scent of him,

“Can we move to facetime? Just wanna see you.” You choked out and he obliged, quickly filling your request. Max felt his heart breaking as he looked at you in your bed. “Hey! Is that my hoodie, bug?” You nodded with a sniffle as he did his best to cheer you up even just a little, “Traitor! You told me you didn’t know where it had gone…” A watery smile spread across your face. “Look, I’m gonna come see you okay?” You sat upright and stared at him hard, “Max Emilian Verstappen, you cannot do that! You have important meetings this week.” “Ooo full name?” He hissed through his teeth, “I am in trouble.” You shook your head at him, “You’re incorrigible.” “Big words we’re using today hmm?” You flipped him off and he laughed, “I’ll be there soon, bug okay?” You nodded and he smiled at you once more, “Just hang in there for a little longer.” He ended the call and immediately your smile dropped. In those brief few seconds you’d forgotten why you’d even called him in the first place. But now in the quiet of your apartment, the sad feelings crept up once more, smothering you and dragging you down.

You weren’t sure when you’d fallen asleep the night before, but the combination of the doorbell ringing and the knocking on the door jolted you awake. Rushing to the front door, you threw it open, still slightly disorientated from your rude awakening, “Hey bug.” “Maxie!” You felt wide awake staring at Max who now stood on your doorstep, a warm smile across his face. You immediately felt like bursting into tears once more and Max was quick to see that, pulling you into his chest and wrapping his arms around you as he rested his head on top of yours. “It’s okay bug,” you felt him press a kiss to the top of your head, “I got you.” He waddled with you in his arms, through your doorway and into the hallway to close the door and give you some privacy. As he held you, he felt his heart race a little, thinking how he would never make you or let you cry like that if you were his girl - wait what? Now was not the time to be thinking about those kinds of things! Max held you until your sobbing had quietened down again, “Sorry,” you sniffed all snotty and he just poked your nose and laughed gently, “It’s okay Y/N.” His hand gently rubbed your arm as he watched you take a few deep breaths to compose yourself, “Here.” He pulled a somewhat squished bouquet of flowers out of what seemed like nowhere, “Sorry, they got a little uhhh… too involved in the hug?” You let out a breath of laughter and took them from him, a finger gently tracing the petals, “Yellow roses? For friendship right?” Max nodded with a smile, “Yellow roses, because I’m always gonna be your best friend who has your back and bluebells because they’re comforting.” You couldn’t help the way your heart clenched hearing his words. It seemed that Max not only bought you flowers often but he even thought of the meaning of what he was buying. For some reason, the thought had those pesky flutters appearing in your stomach but you quickly reprimanded yourself and shook them off. You hadn’t even broken up with your ex for more than 24 hours yet, but here you were thinking about Max romantically? You shook your head, that was a line you could never think of crossing, no matter how much it seemed to be crossing your mind more and more the older you got.

iv. pink tulips; perfect love, affection (now) Now that you were living in Monaco, not too far from Max, movie nights were a common occurrence, with evenings being split between your apartment and his. Food would be ordered and wine would be drunk, movies would be played but barely watched as the two of you would end up talking into the night and continue long after the credits had finished rolling. If there was one thing you could count on Max for, it was his promptness and so when the clock read seven o’clock exactly, you knew it would only be a matter of seconds before you heard his footsteps down the hallway to your apartment. You were proven correct as Max let himself into your apartment, calling out as he did so, “Hey bug! It’s just me!” “In the living room!” You called back, smiling as he appeared in the doorway, holding something behind his back, “What have you got there hmm?” Max’s smile wavered for a second and you frowned, sitting up on the couch, “Max?” He exhaled and bit his lip nervously, “Maxie?” You tried again much more softly, not wanting to make him uncomfortable, “I’m about to say something and…” He sighed, “I just want you to let me finish okay?” You nodded confused as he came to sit next to you, holding out a bouquet of pink tulips as he did so. You felt yourself gasp as you stared at the flowers, admiring the pretty wrapping and how the ribbon matched the flowers. You wracked your brain as you stared, desperately trying to recall the meaning, Max always gave flowers with meaning. Appreciation? No, apology? Nope not that... No. It couldn’t be? Could it? “Affection?” You didn’t even realise you’d spoken the word out loud but a sharp inhale from Max was enough to tell you he’d heard you. Your eyes shot up to his face and noticed he wouldn’t even look at you, instead choosing to gently trace over the bouquet ribbon, “Yes.” His cheeks were pink and you could have sworn you stopped breathing. It was silent in your apartment. The only noise coming from the traffic outside and the thump of your neighbour as their work boots clunked over the floor before their door slammed. The noise pulled you out of your silence as you stared at Max, “What did you just say?” Max finally dared to look up as he gazed into your eyes, “Pink tulips, affection, perfect l…” “Perfect what?” There was no way he was going to say what you thought he was going to say… “Perfect love.” You stood up from the couch, immediately pacing back and forth as your hands started to fumble together, “Max…” You breathed, finally stopping to look at him sat staring at you. “Okay so this is the part where I need you to listen…” You let out a laugh of disbelief but said nothing as he swallowed, hands nervously rubbing the legs of his jeans. “I like you.” You froze as he continued, “I like you and I think I honestly have for a while… I know that this might not be the best time to tell you but I just can’t keep kidding myself anymore. The feelings I have for you? They’re not things I would be feeling if you were just a best friend to me Y/N. God I think I always knew it was you… From the day I ruined your drawing and then when I surprised you at your graduation… And then that horrific breakup,” You both winced, “I swore then that I would never let you cry over another man like that again. Because I wanted to be the only man that you had from then on.” Your lips parted as a nervous exhale left you. He stopped his rambling, panting slightly as he looked at you, “If you have anything to say, now would be a good time to say it…” You looked at him. Max, your Max. The boy that had been there for you through everything, your best friend.

“No…” You whispered out, your own heart breaking at your words, “I can’t…” Max looked absolutely crushed, “No?” His voice was quiet, “Why?” You shrugged, bottom lip trembling, “I can’t risk losing you.” Max scoffed, “Losing me?” “What if we break up hmm? You’re telling me we would be able to go back to being best friends like nothing ever happened? What if it doesn’t work hmm?” Max shook his head as your spoke, “You think I would say this to you if I didn’t think it would work?” “I-I… I don’t know!” You exclaimed as Max stood up, “You won’t even try?” “I’m too scared to Max…” He nodded, stuffing his hands into his pockets as you stared at him, “I’m so sorry.” You whispered, “Me too.” he said before turning and walking out. The door hadn’t even closed behind him before you’d collapsed to the floor, your legs giving out. You’d never cried so hard because of him before. Not when he’d ripped your drawing, not when he'd surprised you at graduation, not even when he’d held you after your breakup.

You stared at the pink tulips as they lay on your couch, their bright happy hopeful colour taunting you. You stalked over to them and picked them up, heading straight to the trash, pulling your arm back to throw them away but you found yourself physically unable to do it.

i. flowers are a language of their own You weren’t sure whether it was convenient or not that Max had a double header after that conversation. Usually you would spam him while he was away and he would pick things up when he could. Often late at night in his hotel bed, a goofy grin plastered across his face as he opened your fit pics and food diary pics of the day, reading through your spam about work, friends and cute cats you’d spotted on the street.

But this time there had been nothing. From either of you. It had been strange and hurtful. You sighed as you checked your phone again for the millionth time that day, already knowing there would be no new notifications from him. Why would there be? The guy you liked had confessed to you and you’d broken his heart because you were too scared he’d break yours. Groaning you dropped your head to the kitchen counter, thumping your forehead against it a few times in the hope of gaining some sense of clarity. It didn’t work. You sighed and stood up straight. You were still kicking yourself for shutting him down so quickly. Yes, he was your Maxie, your best friend, but wasn’t that the point? He knew you so well, he cared for you and loved you, in whatever capacity. He would never intentionally hurt you. You couldn’t lie to yourself, there had been a continuous pull in your stomach and a slight ache in your chest the longer you went without talking to him. You knew if you could do the situation over again you would give a completely different answer. You didn’t want him to break your heart but now you had lost him completely.

Your head shot up as a plan began to form in your head. Grabbing your phone you looked up plane tickets for the country you knew Max was in at the moment. You knew things would be tricky without his help and you didn’t even know if it would work out, but for him you had to try. Selecting your seat you rushed to pack a bag, noticing how the now dry and dead tulips still lay on your bedroom vanity, the pink now much less vibrant and tinged with brown. Your stomach flipped and you hoped to god it would all work out. You knew which hotel the team usually stayed at when they were racing in that specific country and so after making a quick stop you headed straight there, planning to just wait until you were spotted by someone from the team who recognised you and took pity on you. You didn’t have to wait long as one of Max’s race engineers was exiting the building just as your taxi pulled up. Clambering out of the vehicle as you spotted him, he smiled and waved, “Hey! Didn’t know you were coming this weekend? Max usually says something.” “Ah,” you shuffled awkwardly, not wanting to give anything away about your strained relationship, “it’s a surprise!” His eyes widened and he grinned at you knowingly, especially when he spotted what you carried in your arms. “Well… Seeing as it’s you, I’ll give you his room number.” After obtaining the information you needed you thanked him and headed inside, getting on the elevator and pressing the button for his floor as you thanked whatever higher powers there were that so far the plan was working. As the bell dinged for your floor you gulped, a whole new wave of nerves and anxiety washing over you. What if he didn’t want to see you? What if he got angry with you and sent you away? But what if he heard you out? Oh crap, what were you gonna say?

Through your internal rambling, you had somehow managed to walk to his door and now you stood frozen. Unable to knock and unable to move. Swallowing the lump in your throat you knocked the door gently. You heard a crash and then a curse in Dutch came from inside and you winced. Oh god, if he was already in a bad mood… This wouldn’t help. The door swung open and a tired looking Max stood there. Dressed in cosy sweatpants and navy hoodie, no logos in sight but still fitting his team colours. His eyes widened as he took in the sight of you in front of him. “Y/N?” You gave the softest of smiles nervously, “Hi Maxie.”

You weren’t sure what you’d expected when you saw him. You’d thought about how he might yell or cry or get mad or slam the door in your face but you certainly hadn’t expected him to grab your arms and pull you into a hug, burying his face in your neck, “Fuck, I missed you so much I’m so sorry…” You sniffled, pulling back and looking at him, “Why are you sorry?! I’m sorry! I never should have doubted you-” “I never should have pressured you-” “You didn’t! I never should have jumped to conclusions about how things would end. God. It’s been so miserable without you…” You noticed his eyes growing tearful. “Here, come in.” He gently pulled you into the room and closed the door behind you. Your eyes swept the room and zeroed in on an object on his bed, “Is that my t-shirt?” You asked incredulously, mouth gaping at him slightly as he rushed to shove it in his suitcase, “N-no!” “Max Emilian…” Your voice was low, “M-maybe…” You gave him a pointed stare and he relented, “Okay yes fine it is.” He sighed, “I found it at my apartment that night when I got back and… I just… I didn’t have you and it was the closest thing…” He trailed off, sitting on the bed. You padded across the room to take a seat next to him, one hand gently rubbing his back, “I know Maxie… Me too.” His head rested on your shoulder and you inhaled shakily, it was now or never.

You looked back across the room at where your things lay in the entrance. You stood up and made your way over, picking up what you needed before turning back to him with your arms behind your back. “I’m about to say something…” His head shot up to look at you, “and I need you to let me finish.” You gave him a tearful smile and he swore he felt his breathing quicken as you practically echoed his words from a few weeks ago. You approached him and offered him the bouquet from behind your back. He stared at it for a moment before his eyes flicked up to look at yours.

“Red roses?” You nodded, unable to keep looking at him - partly shy and partly terrified of his answer, until he gently held your chin and tilted your head up to meet his gaze once more, “Red roses.” “You know what they mean don’t you?” “I picked them for a reason.” He stood up and gently took them from you, one hand sliding round your waist to pull you into him, “Baby’s breath?” “Baby’s breath.” You looked down, breathing your answer as his face got closer to yours. “Is this your speech then?” You let out a breath, “I figured I would let the flowers speak for themselves, god knows you’ve been doing it long enough.”

His lips were practically on yours and it took everything in you to keep standing as his next words were brushed against your lips, “Is this your answer then?” You nodded, “No schat, please… Let me hear you say it…” His eyes closed as he felt your shuddering breath, “Yes, Max. Yes, I want to try with you, I love you and that’s enough to tell me we should try-” Any further words you had were cut off by Max’s lips meeting yours. His grip around your waist tightened, the flowers sliding from his other hand to the floor as he gently cupped your face, thumb rubbing back and forth across your cheek. You couldn’t help the way you smiled against his lips and he laughed at the feeling, the two of you giggling and grinning between kisses like the lovesick idiots you were.

Red roses; declaration of love, Baby’s breath; eternal love.

#mimi.writes #f1 fic #f1 fluff #f1 angst #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fic #f1 x y/n #f1 x reader #f1 x you #max verstappen fanfic

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randomshyperson · 1 year ago

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Sanctify - Cult Leader!Wanda Maximoff x Reader - Kinktober #06

Summary: After your worst semester at NYU, your Aunt Agatha convinces you to join the Children of Chaos as an alternative, and very expensive form of therapy. Leaving the cult becomes a very difficult task when you develop an unexpected affection for their leader.

Warnings: (+18), dom!wanda and brat!reader, rough smut, face-fucking, power dynamics, brat taming (ish), praising, lots of tension and teasing, definitely blasphemous on some levels, a lot of plot, mentions of past toxic relationship, unspecified age gap. | Words: 7.900k

A/N-> I’ve been dying to write something about Cult Leader Wanda since I watched the second season of Yellowjackets and became obsessed with Lottie Matthews, so while writing this, I was picturing Lottie’s cult to be fair. I also like how I ended this, as it makes it possible to turn it into a series. Good reading!

General Masterlist | Kinktober Collection | AO3 | Wattpad

-&-

Although the movement of the car brought a gentle breeze through the window, the weather was hot enough to actually make thinking painful. In an attempt to relieve the temperature a little, and perhaps escape Aunt Aggie's provocative reminiscences about the long journey and the events that made this trip necessary in the first place, you put your arm on the door, and propped your chin up, your face on the safety edge outside the window.

New York had been out of sight for hours and had given way to countless trees and a plantation further and further away. You figured it wouldn't take long for the radio signal to stop working, but to your pleasant surprise, the soft melody of cassette tapes hidden in the glove compartment by Nicholas were picked up once that happened.

Your cousin had grown up over the summer - His still youthful appearance now featured neatly cut curly hair and reading glasses that he often hung on the collar of his shirt. When younger, it was common to hear how much he resembled Sir. Scratch, his scumbag father in the words of Agatha and the other adults, not yours - but over time, he looked much more like his mother.

Nick met your gaze through the rearview mirror and gave you an assuring smile. You didn't reciprocate, but not because you were upset. Just because you were distracted by the huge sign coming around the next corner.

"Oh, boy, I've missed this place." Agatha commented with a nostalgic sigh, as soon as she noticed the entrance plaque. She slowed down enough that the wind wasn't enough anymore, so you returned to your original position with a low snort.

"There's still time to turn around." You muttered, getting a warning look from the older woman.

She leaned over, without answering you, to grab something from the open glove compartment. You pushed your hair back as a pamphlet was dropped into your lap.

"I know you hated the idea, but you need to trust your elders for once in your life, darling." Agatha began, as you grimaced at the crumpled paper. The title Children of Chaos was painted in red, but it was faded in several places. "The 70s were the apex for this place, I had a lot of fun here. It's such a unique experience, connecting with nature and the chaos that is part of us all."

Nick chuckled through his nose. "Mom, don't start your witch thing again, you'll scare her." Mocked your cousin from the passenger seat, but Agatha waved him off.

"She'll thank me when she gets there, I'm sure."

But you didn't do that. When the car finally came to a stop, and what looked more like a fancy farm merged with the forest took over your vision, all you did was crumple the Immersive Community pamphlet into your pocket and throw your old backpack over your shoulder.

Aunt Aggie and your cousin hugged you tightly, saying they were going to write, but they couldn't get past the reception desk since they weren’t part of the program. You saw Agatha take your mom’s borrowed credit card out of her purse to start your so-called treatment, and the last goodbyes left your tongue before one of the tutors started the tour of the place.

In between presenting a large number of different huts that served as dormitories and classrooms for the most diverse activities - painting, handicrafts or poetry were the ones you memorized - Mr. Emil Blonsky also took the time to welcome you, emphasizing how incredible the community was and how lucky anyone was to be there. You bit your tongue to keep from telling him that only those with money could.

Finally, Blonsky showed you the stables and greenhouses on the edge of the property, and on the way back to the rest of the huts, you noticed the path up the hill.

"And what's up there?"

The man stopped walking with a small smile. He was wearing clothes very similar to those of the other people you'd seen on the tour, the difference being a golden necklace with a strange symbol that was hidden by the movement of his loosely buttoned shirt.

"We must not go up there without permission." He begins, although he's smiling, there's something in his gaze that says this rule cannot be disrespected. " The Prophetess' Retreat is a sacred place of peace and reflection."

You look back at the hut at the bottom of the mountain, far enough away that you can't make out the decorations on the balcony, but still beautiful and quiet, high enough to make it look like the prophet had her own little piece of heaven.

"So, no bothering the boss without asking? Got it." You retort, getting a chuckle from the other at the summary. He starts walking again along the path towards the general area, but you can't help the curiosity burning in your chest. "About this prophet, will she be isolated up there or will I get a chance to meet her?"

Blonsky walks up beside you, and looks you in the eye to say; "You'll meet her when it's time to meet her, not early and not late."

You don't know what to say to that, everything here is so theatrical in a way. Mystical, you might say. It suits Aunt Aggie so well, that it's not hard to imagine her here, dancing to the midnight moon and talking to the trees. She already does that in New York, it should have been much simpler in the middle of the forest.

"Come, child. You must start the cleaning process soon." Announces the man as he picks up the pace on the trail. With a sigh, you decide not to contradict him by saying that you bathed before coming, thank you.

It was soon revealed that the cleansing process really meant a bath - the colleagues around you who helped you laughed when you joked that it was a strange way of saying that someone stinks, before clarifying that it was nothing of the sort. The Cleansing Process was a bath of salts and herbs, in a tub of stones and some kind of botanical baptism, the latter of which only members who had completed thirteen full moons could take part in. You would be invited to the baptism with the prophet's blessing, but there was still a long way to go.

Blonsky handed your uniforms, and explained the last rules before leaving you alone, or almost, since your hut was shared with six other people, and despite this, it seemed very comfortable and organized. There were bunk beds and private bathroom spaces, and at least three spacious shelves for each. The latter wouldn't be of much use to you, since you'd brought almost nothing and the vast majority of your belongings had been left at NYU. Just thinking about that place gave you a terrible stomach ache: You would have skipped dinner, but the mere suggestion of not attending made one of your colleagues frown in concern and repeat the rules, so you ended up giving that up.

The routine that followed was calm: it didn't surprise you that the new members were responsible for the hardest tasks, and it didn't bother you either. You were never afraid of hard work, and keeping your hands busy also helped to calm your mind, so it was a win-win. Besides, even if you didn't get the jobs nobody wanted, all veterans had chores. There was some rule about the amount of service time and dedication being rewarded, so those senior members could choose what they wanted to do first.

You didn't have to worry about this anyway: you would do what you had to do because, after all, the agreement was to stay here only for the summer. However, with each passing day away from exams, traffic, and New York's typical filth, it became harder to imagine leaving the Children of Chaos and their strange harmony and kindness.

After three weeks in the group, you learned to knit. You also earned the privilege of mail when you showed up for all your appointments without delay and decided to check the items in the privacy of your cabin during the last hour of prayer.

Since you hadn't yet found your faith or received your calling or whatever weird way Blonsky explained this, you barely joined in the prayer sessions. This evening, excited to receive news from home, was no different.

Aunt Aggie wrote about the store doing well and mentioned your mother, who didn't write to you with more than vague words about hoping you'd feel better soon. The best present was hidden in Nicholas' letter about the university being a sack without his favorite cousin. Wrapped in silk and next to a lighter.

You haven't earned the right to write outside yet - something about a month in isolation to accomplish. So you just clutched the items to your chest and wished your cousin knew how grateful you were.

Your initial intention was to save the weed for some more stressful day - which was rare in the leisurely pace of this place - but the last letter made you consider using it all that night.

The recipient's perfect handwriting, and the address you knew by heart. You didn't even open the item, you put it away in your drawer and stood up with the weed hidden in your pants pocket.

The common area was empty, as the vast majority of your colleagues were praying. You stepped up to one of the bonfires and threw the unopened letter into the flames, without hesitation and without caring to see it burn. You turned on your heels and continued along the trail, heading for one of the few more secluded spots you had discovered during the hours of exploring between tasks.

The rules were clear about the prophet's hut but said nothing about the road towards it. And since apparently everyone there was afraid of upsetting the boss, that spot was always empty and the perfect place to smoke in hiding.

You leaned against a tree, curled up and lit the weed, and tried to keep away all the painful memories about last semester that the damn letter had brought up.

You were halfway through a joint when you heard a voice at the end of the trail next to you.

"Good evening, Y/N."

"Jesus fucking Christ." You gasped, jumping with fright and almost dropping the blunt to the ground. You looked sideways abruptly, imagining that you were hallucinating because of the weed, and were almost sure that you were when the words escaped you due to the apparition in front of you. The most beautiful woman you've ever seen in your life. Instead of a uniform, she wore a loose dark wine dress that hugged her curves perfectly; her long red hair cascaded down her shoulders and back and her emerald eyes shone curiously in your direction. The dim light from the fire lamps scattered along the trail and the moon really made the woman look like an angel.

You coughed awkwardly. "Sorry, you scared me." You clarified, the cigarette hidden behind your back a stupid attempt to mask what you were doing. Sure enough, your pupils were dilated, and it was very easy to see the smoke. So, as soon as you tried to hide it, you gave up, offering the woman an awkward chuckle and gesturing the cigarette gently. "Don't tell on me."

There was a soft pause, which you couldn't tell from the intoxication in your system. The woman watched for a moment as the charming gesture of bringing the cigarette to the smile formed on your lips and blew the smoke into the starry sky with your neck slightly stretched. Your mind seemed to clear, and before the woman could speak, you grimaced. "Wait, didn't you just say my name? How..?"

She smiled, folding her hands in front of her body. "It was premeditated that we met today, of course. I'm Wanda."

You've heard her name before, in conversation circles and in advertisements about her heavenliness hanging around.

"Shit." It was your natural reaction, which made her laugh softly, and it must have been the weed's fault that the sound echoed in your mind and made your body shudder.

"Don't worry, I won't snitch on you." She assures you with an easy smile playing on her lips, and you swallow dry, completely at a loss.

"Thanks... but I thought you were the boss." You mumble, and Wanda makes a funny expression, like a false realization.

"Oh, you're right." She murmurs amusedly. "I think I can let this one slide if you'll share it with me."

"Fuck, of course, here." Your limbs feel strange, almost too heavy to move around her. You awkwardly hand her the cigarette, certain that your face is flushed. Hell, the last time you were this clumsy was last semester, with-

"You swear a lot." Wanda's comment pulls you out of your daze. She takes a long drag before adding: "Especially for a Christian."

You chuckle, shaking your head. "My father's a Christian, not me." You retort, and end up grimacing. "And how do you know-"

"This is a very exclusive program, sweetheart." Wanda cuts you off again, the cigarette between her fingers but her gaze is completely focused on your face. "Having a lot of money or being someone's niece isn't enough to guarantee you a spot, but a good letter of recommendation might. And Agatha wrote me almost everything about you, except the reason for rushing to get you here before the next recruitment period."

The sentence was an invitation for you to speak, but you didn't fall for the bait. On the contrary, you looked away with tense shoulders, and Wanda didn't press. At least, not now. She took another drag before commenting more softly:

"We have general meetings every Wednesday. We encourage members to open up."

You grimace softly. "Group therapy isn't my thing."

But Wanda smiles lopsidedly, giving you back the joint. " Neither is nice weed." She retorts a little provocatively, attracting your attention. "If you want to try something new, show up next week. And if you want to try something good, you should try the weed from our greenhouse. It won't taste like crushed dirt." Adjusting her hair around her shoulders, she offers you a wink. "Have a good night, darling."

You think about the color of her eyes for the rest of the night.

-&-

Sooner than you'd expect, you'll discover that Wanda isn't the type to let things slide. Far from it, she notices everything, especially those who are being too slack and prone to not following the teachings of the Children of Chaos, possibly ruining their record of total efficiency or something.

She puts an end to your plans for a quiet summer, trying to go unnoticed among the countless other followers just as abruptly as she left her meditation hut. Wanda seems to appear at every moment that you consider escaping from your commitments - it even occurs to you that she has a particular interest in watching you, but the idea sounds so absurd that you push it away while forcing a polite smile before returning to your duties.

Less than two weeks after you met, you finally stopped avoiding Group Therapy and showed up on time to join the session. The presence of Wanda, in a loose dark purple dress and her red hair tied up in a neat braid, makes you almost give up, convinced that you couldn't say anything without stuttering in the presence of such a stunning woman.

But she offers a gentle smile, opening her arms softly. "Come along, darling, you're just in time." She greets and you stumble towards a corner in the background, begging the gods that you can attend in silence this time.

It doesn't seem so difficult when it's other people doing it. A young man with whom you've already shared the task of looking after the stables spoke of the frustrations of returning from enforced service with a missing limb, and how the support he didn't get from the government and family members, he found here. Bucky received a finger-snapping applause - something that was explained to you as a way to avoid triggers on the countless ex-combatants or victims of post-traumatic stress that make up the crowd - before giving his turn to another ex-military woman, Carol Danvers.

More stories were shared until Wanda's gaze fell on your slumped figure and she called your name. All the attention in the room fell on you too, and you chuckled awkwardly.

"Thanks, but I'm not good at public speaking." You retorted, but Wanda, with her hands folded over her stomach, gave you a gentle smile.

"Don't worry about it, dear, this is a no-judgment zone." She says, but you make no mention of getting up, and her gaze becomes more insistent. "It's important that we all make an effort to be present at these exercises. We encourage participation around here. Come along, dear, please." And she smiled so kindly that you could only trust her.

The group offered a small chorus of encouragement, and before you knew it, you were a few steps away from the redhead, who held out her hands for your wrists.

"I want you to take a deep breath and close your eyes." Wanda guided, her melodic voice bringing goose bumps all over your body. "Turn all your attention inward. And tell me, is there anything in there that you'd like to share with the group?"

The memories of last semester hit you full force. But Wanda massages your wrists and it feels as if she can calm down the whole storm inside of you.

You sigh, before opening your eyes. "I... I don't know where to start." Your whisper is met by another chorus of support from the members, who retort that you're safe. Wanda releases your wrists to sit with the others, and you try not to be so self-conscious while you're in the spotlight. "I think I can share with you the reason why I'm here." You declare a moment later, taking another deep breath.

Bucky gives you an encouraging smile, mimicking that of the people around him, and you swallow.

"I don't have a history of fighting and overcoming war or any illnesses, so I'm sorry to disappoint anyone." You mumble, receiving confused looks.

The former sergeant assures you: "No problem competes with another. All our pains have their importance." And it seems to be something that has already been repeated here a few times because everyone shakes their heads in agreement.

You scratch the back of your head awkwardly. "Right... well, I won't beat around the bush. A month ago, when I was first enrolled here, I had just been kicked out of my house. Well, it wasn't exactly my house anymore, because I'd been living on campus for about three years, but I think you get the idea." You say, laughing awkwardly at the anxiety in your chest. You try to clear your throat so that your voice doesn't come out so shaky, but only Wanda's gaze really helps to calm your nerves. "And the reason for this was a relationship that my parents, more specifically my mother, didn't approve of. To be fair, no one really approved, because, well, the person... hm, I don't think there's any other way to put it, was another woman. An older woman, and also my professor. And well, the whole thing would have been a scandal anyway, but I really let myself believe that when the worst was over, we'd be fine. Bad news, we weren't." You laugh sadly. You pause, imagining that you'll get judgmental looks, but everyone listens attentively. "For a while, I thought the worst part was afterward. When everyone knew and judged me, and how my mother freaked out, and I tried... but no. The worst part was not realizing what that love if I can call it that, was doing to me. How ill it was making me. And until I got here, learned things about myself, and managed to take a break from everything that was left behind... For a while, I really hoped to go back and fix everything, but now... damn, sometimes I don't even think about leaving this place."

The group celebrates quietly, exchanging words of encouragement. Your ears feel warm, and Wanda stands up again. "You can stay as long as you need, darling." She says, massaging your forearm. She calls someone else to speak, but doesn't miss the opportunity to whisper in your ear: "I'm proud, stay a little longer today, I want to talk to you."

And you think you haven't absorbed anything for the rest of the morning.

Eventually, the session ends, and as soon as the room is empty, Wanda turns her face towards you.

"You were brave today, sweetheart."

Your hands, busy putting the cushions away, tremble a little. But you offer her an incredulous chuckle.

"Yeah, right." It's your answer, which makes Wanda frown in curiosity. At her inquisitive silence, you sigh before clarifying: "Everyone's nice, but I know it's kind of silly that my big trauma is a break-up and not post-traumatic stress from war or something that actually matters."

Wanda presses her lips together, studying you for a moment, and you take the opportunity to put away the last of the cushions. Suddenly, she says:

"This lack of respect for your own feelings comes from parental negligence, I suppose." You turn your face away in surprise, but Wanda gives you a small smile: "James wasn't lying when he said that no pain should compete with another. We all have our internal and external battles, and we shouldn't belittle our pain. I believe we should honor it, and wear it. And here, dear, you will learn to do that." Wanda makes her way around to one of the cupboards at the back, and you watch her movements in silence, from reaching into one of the last drawers to returning to you with an item in hand. "I have an invitation for you."

She opens the box she's brought, and inside is a necklace very similar to the one the instructors wear. The main difference is the symbol, the crown that Wanda also carries on the pendant around her neck. You frown in confusion.

"What is it?"

She wraps the item between her fingers, her gaze on you. "The disciple's necklace. The last one from the current solstice."

You imitate the gesture, touching the item with the tips of your fingers. Wanda doesn't move her hand away as your fingers brush together, and you ignore your own shyness as you watch her bite her lip for a moment. "I don't understand what it means."

She licks her lips, and the movement doesn't go unnoticed by your eyes. "It means that you would be my apprentice. You would accompany me during periods of meditation, you would study my teachings closely, you would be... entirely dedicated to..."

"You?" you add, and Wanda lets out a shuddering breath, warm against your cheek. When did she get so close?

"If you wish." She whispers, and you pull away gently, your face hot but the last thread of sanity in your mind.

"I'm sure there are more experienced members dying for this position. It wouldn't be right-"

Wanda shakes her head, interrupting you. "They weren't chosen. You were." She assures you, pressing the box with the necklace against your chest. "And if it wasn't you, the place would be empty until the next solstice. You don't have to accept it, darling. It's not a summons. It's an invitation."

You sigh, holding the box against your chest. "I just... I've never done anything like this. I don't want to mess things up."

There's a bell in the distance, signaling the start of the next activities. Wanda glances outside briefly before stepping close enough to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth that makes your whole body heat up at once.

"Just listen to your instincts." She whispers, before pulling away with a small smile.

You write to Agatha about it the following evening, but you don't have the courage to seal the letter for sending. The whole conversation with Wanda seems too private to be shared in this way.

Although the woman said it was just an invitation, you could feel some pressure to make a decision, and it seems that the news had been circulating ever since one of the tutors couldn't find the box of the last chaos disciple pendant, and Wanda ended up mentioning that she had extended another invitation.

In a way, you were stalling. Between your activities and meetings, you hadn't made any decisions and you hoped that the end of the summer would force Wanda to choose someone else. But there was also the question of the new, burning feelings that had appeared since you first laid eyes on her, and which seemed to awaken every time you two were in the same environment.

The idea of departing, of leaving her behind like a closed chapter in your life, seemed absurd every passing day.

In your second month with the Chaos Children, you received a rather unusual request: take the prophet her morning drink.

The crumpled piece of paper was handed to you by one of your cabin mates: Kate Bishop. A former student, a little younger than you, who, after destroying a bell at the university, was sent here by her millionaire mother. Kate was to stay until she had balanced her irresponsible impulses and could take over the family's security empire.

She seemed a little reluctant to interrupt your concentration on cleaning the garden, but much more determined not to disappoint Wanda.

"Just give it to the kitchen staff, they'll know what to do. And prioritize, she doesn't like to wait." Said the girl, but you gave her hand a gentle tug before taking the paper.

"But why did she ask me?" you asked, but Kate had no idea and just shrugged before leaving the garden.

While the kitchen staff prepared the item, you tried to improve your appearance in the bathroom next to the lounge, wiping all the soil from the plants from under your fingers, and even what had run into your cheeks.

When you came out, there was another order on the counter and a small group of people who hadn't been there before. They didn't see you. Blonsky, accompanied by two other women you didn't know, were talking to each other.

"I bet it was Carter. She hasn't stopped talking about her private piano lessons with the Prophetess for four whole weeks." Said the first, but the other laughed quietly.

" Sharoon is a simp, that's all. Wanda wouldn't choose her after the episode with Rogers last year, she knows she can't trust her." Rebutted the other. "Besides, I would have assumed it was Bishop, after all, she already acts like a maid. Why train another when you already have one so dedicated?" The women laugh amongst themselves until they finally notice you approaching, and fall silent. Blonsky smiles, but he appears very vicious.

"Hello, miss. Wouldn't you like to have a say in who our next disciple is?" He asks you, but you shrug, moving forward in the queue in front of the canteen to grab the prophet's items that were clearly being prepared in priority.

"I don't know anything about it." That's your answer, but the shorter woman gets in your way.

"Come on, dear, it's easy." She begins with a giggle. "Every solstice, the prophetess chooses her disciples. There are 24 of them, 12 of whom will become apostles after their apprenticeship."

You grimace softly. "It's very biblical."

Blonsky chuckles. "Of course, it is, despite the multiculturalism of our group, Wanda was raised in a Jewish Christian home. You're not going to tell me you didn't know that?"

You clear your throat. "Not really. Sorry, I have to run."

But the man puts a hand in your way, only to stretch his body out on the counter and reach for some colored leaves that he crushes and drops into Wanda's glass.

"She likes it this way. I would know, I prepared many when I was her houseboy for the first few weeks here." He says, and you swallow dry, mumbling an awkward thank you before hurrying off.

The path is a little tiring, you think it makes sense of Wanda's physique if she had to climb that trail every day, and you mentally curse yourself for thinking about her body. It's not at all appropriate, honestly.

The door is open, but you knock anyway. The woman inside, wearing her typical long, loose dresses at the edge, is busy finishing a loose fringe in her hair and offers you a smile.

"Come in, dear."

You do so a little awkwardly, almost overwhelmed by the moment of entering the most private place in the whole camp. It's a beautiful cabin, you let her know, without stopping to admire the perfectly arranged surroundings. You would have thought that the privacy of this place would allow her to make some kind of personal mess, but everything is impeccably in place.

Wanda approaches to pick up the items, and the smile falters on her face at the first sip of her drink.

"Did you put... did you put maca root in this?" She asks, and your natural reaction is a short laugh.

"I didn't prepare it, Wanda."

But she doesn't smile again, her tone of voice remains the same but her attitude changes to one of false kindness. "My morning drink is an ashwagandha. I need my concentration to increase, not my libido." It really sounded like a scolding, and her attitude of handing the cup back to you, accompanied by the memory of the recent events, made your blood boil.

"Well, I'm not your fucking maid, so if it's not good, get another one downstairs, or even better, make it one yourself."

It's the first time you see any kind of fury in her gaze, hot and vibrant, and it makes something in you rouse. Your mention of leaving the cabin is prevented by her hands closing the door and trapping you against the wood.

Wanda takes a deep breath, and the gleam in her eyes changes. "Can I ask... where did this attitude come from?"

You hold the glass tightly against your body, very aware that you'll drop it if Wanda doesn't step away and let you breathe. "I just want to make things clear." You retort with a seriousness that doesn't do justice to the way your heart is racing. "I didn't come to this place to be your personal servant."

Wanda chuckles briefly, letting her gaze drop to your mouth. "Oh, of course not, darling." She whispers. "You're not the type to follow orders willingly. You'd do a terrible job."

Swallowing dryly, you retort: "And why am I here then?"

Wanda smiles innocently. "I asked you to bring my drink." It's her reply, clearly trying to tease you, and you snort impatiently.

"I bet you expected an answer. Well, I haven't made up my mind yet, so if there's nothing else, I'll just go."

Wanda moves to take the glass from you and put it on the table by the door. The next second, her hands are in yours.

"Don't be silly, of course, there's another reason." She retorts, pulling you along as she walks backward into the cabin. "I hear you love painting."

What you had assumed was her personal painting canvas is offered to you. The laugh that escapes you is shy and genuine.

"Wanda, I don't... paint anymore."

But she doesn't flinch, her hands still in yours. "I know you haven't since last semester. It was in the letter. But you've progressed so much, that I thought you could paint for me." When you don't answer, she makes such an adorable expression that your heart skips a beat. "Please?"

Wanda definitely knows how beautiful she is, and how those puppy-dog eyes can take her anywhere. You bite back a smile, agreeing, and almost forget to breathe when she jumps excitedly onto your neck, hugging it for a whole moment before letting go as if she hadn't turned you into a complete mess with one touch.

She doesn't complain about the cocktail again - instead, she drinks it entirely while you get comfortable on the painting stool, doodling for a few moments before starting to paint the only thing you could after so many months without touching a paintbrush.

It's only when the drawing is clearer on the frame that Wanda becomes restless again. Loud sighs take your attention away from the painting and towards her.

"Is something wrong?"

She smiles half-heartedly, and only now do you notice the soft color of her cheeks. "I shouldn't have ignored my own complaints and drunk that juice."

You frown in confusion, letting the brush rest next to the paints. "Was it that bad? If you want, I'll complain to the kitchen-"

Wanda chuckles, shaking her head and you have to shut up because she reaches over to push the canvas out of the way and stops right in front of you, close enough to touch.

"Remember what I said? About focus and about... my libido." She asks, and you can swallow dryly, looking up in the direction of her dilated eyes. She lets her hands rest on your shoulders, pressing the weight of her body gently into yours. "Well, I suppose you'll have to see for yourself. Hold out your hand sweetheart, no, no, down... yes, you can move my dress out of the way." Your trembling fingers brushed against her knee, and immediately obeyed the order. Slowly making your way under her dress, while Wanda bit her lip and watched you draw patterns on her thighs. Finally, your fingers reached the side of her underwear. Instead of pulling it down, you let the inks drop to the ground, and your other hand went under her dress too, repeating the same path as before while you and Wanda panted together. Your face fell forward, flush into her dress, and you pressed your nose against her, inhaling deeply the scent of arousal she exhaled so strongly.

Her hands squeezed your shoulders as yours began to pull down her panties right away. A moment later, gracefully as everything so far, she kicked the item aside and spread her legs gently so that you could slide your fingers between more easily.

You looked up the second your index finger met her warmth, gasping at the mischievous smile of the woman in front of you.

"All this time I've been here..." You started hoarsely, your fingers spreading the wetness between her folds, and enjoying the way Wanda's breath caught in her throat. "Were you this wet?"

Despite the failure of her own breathing, and the way it's harder to stand up with your intimate stimulation, Wanda gives you a mischievous look and leans her forehead against yours, her red hair making a curtain between your faces.

"I get like this every time I'm around you." She confesses, giving you a provocative tug on your lower lip that forces you to thrust inside her with more determination. Almost enough for her to lose her pose. Almost. "It's disconcerting, to be honest."

Your thumb presses down firmly on her clit, and Wanda almost buckles into you, the delicious sound that escapes her throat will be in your dreams for sure. "Well, should I apologize, high sanctity?"

She chuckles at the teasing hidden in the nickname, before leaning in completely and capturing your mouth in a fervent kiss that takes you out of orbit for a whole moment, intense enough for you to whimper into her tongue, and force her hips down into yours, practically begging her to grind your lap. Wanda's response to this is a dirty giggle mixed with a moan into your mouth.

Without breaking the kiss that turns into a much hungrier one the next second, you get to your feet, adjusting your hands to grab her thighs to pull her onto your lap and carry her around the room. Between stumbles, you press each other against the various surfaces of the room, tables, and cupboards, exchanging increasingly hot and desperate kisses, and you're pretty sure you're going to have Wanda against the bookshelf if she keeps grinding into your abdomen like that.

In a pause for breath, when she's still wedged between you and the bookcase, your mouth descends on her jaw and Wanda struggles to keep her eyes open. She whimpers shamelessly as your curious hands advance down her body, pulling her dress out of the way and leaving it barely hanging off her body for you to clasp your palms over her now-bare breasts.

Her patience for release is quickly exhausted by the precise stimulation of her breasts, your eager fingers teasing and pinching her nipples until you turn her into a whimpering mess. She gives a determined tug on the hair at the nape of your neck, forcing your face back to hers in a hard, dirty kiss that makes you shudder. She breaks it only to give an order:

"On your knees." And you groan in obedience, falling to the floor almost at once, desperately pulling her dress aside to force your face into her, now with nothing in the way. Wanda arches her back once your hot mouth finds her drenched cunt; her hands desperate for some kind of support on the shelves behind her, while her chest heaves and her hips are restless against your face.

Your hungry mouth leisurely devours her, your tongue teasing her folds, spreading her wetness around and making a mess on your face. Your closed eyes show your dedication and surrender to the task, but Wanda tugs at your hair again, trying to gain a little control back and order you to quit the teasing and fuck her the way she needs you to. Fully dilated Irises then confronts her from between her legs, and Wanda loses her breath.

"Beautiful." She panted, staring back, shamelessly grinding herself into your face. "So beautiful... fuck... on your knees for me... oh, God, detka." She struggles to compliment you, but her native language begins to escape mixed with English shortly afterward, her climax approaching. You moan contentedly at the scene, aware of the state of your own underwear from all this play. Wanda's body begins to betray her, trying to pull away so you grab her thighs with a strong grip, and one of her legs ends up over your shoulder, increasing your reach just the way she needs it to fall over the edge.

Wanda comes on your tongue, spasming against the books, and in a deep moan. You don't let her pull away, keeping her restless hips in place as you lick your way through her previous climax in search of a new one. Soon her whimpering protests at the overstimulation turn into begging, and you fail to hide the smug smile at feeling her so at your mercy for a second time.

She's so close, so close, that the Sokovian comes back to her tongue, but there's a sudden knock on the door, and all the stimulation is interrupted by your fright. Wanda gasps incredulously, losing the time to react in time due to her own lust, and having to watch you stumble away - quickly wiping her cum from your chin with the back of your hand - as she tries not to fall down on her shaking knees.

"Why the fuck did you stop?" she asks in frustration through her teeth, but you, with a very flushed face, look at her with a certain desperation.

"Wanda, there's someone at the door!" You retort as if it were a very justifiable reason to steal an orgasm from her. Wanda huffs angrily, lunging at you and ignoring your confused eyes to pull you upright by the collar of your shirt, hurriedly throwing you onto the mattress. "W-wanda, what?"

"Quiet." She cuts in, pushing your shoulders until you're lying down and following the movement of your body to straddle your lap. The person outside knocks again, and although she's pulling her off, and is still shaking from her last orgasm, Wanda manages to speak in the same tone of voice as she does every morning meeting: "What is it?"

Your protests are muffled when Wanda sits on your face, and in fact, you would have forgotten any guests if Blonsky's voice hadn't sounded in the next second.

"Good morning, Reverend, I've come to join you for today's service." Says the man, but Wanda has to bite her lip hard because you're eating her out again, somehow even better than before. "Reverend?"

Wanda shakes her head, frowning at the difficulty of maintaining a rational thought when she has your tongue inside her. "Hm, I'm not going today, Blonsky... Deliver the service in my place." She fails to sound so breathless and has to close her eyes when your hands grip her thighs tightly, holding her down.

Blonsky then sounds concerned: "Aren't you feeling well, Reverence?"

Your nose nuzzles into her clit and Wanda reaches for the headboard, a satisfied sigh escaping her. "I feel great." She murmurs back and has to take a deep breath so that the next sound that escapes her isn't a moan. "Just busy. Anything else, Blonsky?"

The man clears his throat, Wanda has to press a hand against her own mouth as you reach another right spot.

"Hm, yes, Reverend... As you know, the deadline for the selection of the disciple is coming to an end." He begins, luckily unable to hear the muffled sighs inside the room through the closed door. "I have expressed my concerns to Your Reverence about a premature choice of new members-"

Wanda snorts impatiently. "Are you really going to question my choices again, Blonsky?"

"N-no, reverend!" He defends himself quickly. "Never. I just worry that the... affinity, that Your Reverence has acquired for some new members, might affect your judgment about their vocations. The premature choice of a disciple could result in their departure from our community, and we know how the withdrawal of one of our own affects everyone..."

"Don't worry about it." Wanda cuts dry, and now, she's remarkably close to climaxing. She doesn't care about the roughness, she thrusts her hips frantically into your face, muffling your breathless moans. "Y/N is the best choice... she's... so-god... dedicated and-hm... talented-" Wanda's lucky you're quick to react too. She would have screamed to the ceiling, exposing all the inappropriate activities in the room if you hadn't grabbed her thighs and spun her on her back onto the mattress. She didn't have time to lose this orgasm by the brief interruption of your movements - your fingers took the place of your tongue when you hovered above her, and your free hand covered her mouth when you sank inside her again.

Wanda came harder than before, squeezing your fingers and wetting the bed. She clings to your body in a desperate grasp, shocked by the achievement over her body, and grateful for the muffling of her moans. You keep thrusting until she stops squirting on the sheets.

You only remember that Blonsky is still outside because he speaks again. "I'll take your word for it, Your Reverence. And I hope you've made a good choice." He says at last, the sound of his footsteps moving away is ignored by you and Wanda, who meet in a hot kiss in the next second.

Your fingers continue to thrust lightly inside her, even though Wanda shudders from the excessive stimulation. And despite this, she also controls the kiss, which slows down so that she can ask in between: "Tell me, love. Did I do it? A good choice."

You kiss her a little harder. "I still don't know... what I want... or what I should do, Wanda."

She brings one of her hands up to your wrist, stopping your movements. You open your eyes to look at her. Wanda smiles, but her eyes are very mischievous. "You think too hard when the answer is right here." She retorts, giving your hand a gentle tug. You follow her lead, and soon, you have your drenched fingers with her cum inside your mouth. Your hips move instinctively, pressing down on her, and Wanda giggles mischievously, her free hand trailing down your back to encourage the movement. "Don't you want that, baby? You can be all mine."

You suck your fingerprints clean, removing them from your mouth to support yourself on the mattress now that you're so wildly grinding your hips against Wanda's thigh. She doesn't let you indulge in the sensation, grabbing your cheek and stopping your hips with the other at your silence.

Your soft protest is ignored, and your voice is almost a pathetic plea when it comes out. "It's not fair... I was feeling so good."

"Oh, darling, I can make you feel even better, every day if you decide to stay with me." She retorts, her grip softening on your cheek. You look at her, but there is still hesitation in your gaze and Wanda wishes to replace this doubt with something else. She kisses you but pulls away when you go to increase the intensity, ignoring your protest and pushing you gently away by the shoulders. "No playing, until I have an answer."

Wanda flees - because she doesn't think she'll live up to her words if she is under you - and slips out of bed before you can grab her back. Your next long protest is muffled against the mattress because you press your face down.

Wanda giggles half-heartedly as she stands up, reaches for her dress, and tries to adjust her appearance a little. "Thank you for the sex, sweetheart, it was a very pleasant surprise, but I can't let Blonsky lead a communion, he's not good at it. And you have errands, so if you'll excuse me..." Your silence made Wanda, now dressed, look at the bed again. To her surprise, you were sitting on the mattress, hanging something around your neck.

Your gaze met hers as the disciple chain was secure on your skin. The mischief in your gaze made her swallow. Twirling the symbol between your fingers, you smiled as you asked: "So how does this work? Should I confess my sins so that you can forgive me?"

"God offers forgiveness, not me." Wanda whispers back, brazenly watching you start to unbutton your shirt, the necklace hanging in the valley of your breasts is doing things to her.

"Hm, since I'm going to be forgiven, maybe I can sin a little more..." Wanda moved on instinct, crawling onto the bed to meet you halfway like a magnet being drawn towards you.

Your foreheads touched, and she sighed against your lips. "I should punish you for this blasphemy." She says, to which you smile naughtily before sticking out your tongue to tease her lips, eliciting a low moan from her.

"Promise?" You challenge, and Wanda gets tired of wasting time.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #kinktober 2023 #marvel imagines

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munson-blurbs · 9 months ago

Text

Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: Eddie lowered his guard during a late night conversation, revealing crucial details about his past. But was it enough for you to reciprocate? (4.3k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, drug use, parental conflict, poverty, homelessness, brief mention of neglect, brief mention of sex work, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

♫ Divider credit to @hellfire--cult

chapter four: show me yours, i'll show you mine

If convincing Eddie to take the job wasn’t enough of a struggle, you still had to explain the situation to your parents.

Hi Mom and Dad, I invited a guest to help fix up the motel. The same one who stole a blanket–but don’t worry, I got it back. Oh, and he’ll be staying here for free.

They were understandably taken aback by your decision, especially without consulting them first, but you’d mustered up a strong argument: Eddie was young, he was easy to get along with, and he showed a basic sense of personal responsibility. Not to mention that the place could certainly use the repairs; peeling wallpaper was just the tip of the iceberg. Lightbulbs needed to be replaced, carpets needed to be scrubbed, and the outside of the building desperately needed to be power washed.

“Plus, summer break doesn’t start for another few weeks,” you hastily added. “We won’t need to worry about renting out Eddie’s room until then.”

Mom arched an eyebrow at the newfound ascription—not room four, but Eddie’s room—but said nothing, only looking at your father for his seal of approval.

He breathed out, long and low, trying to do the calculations in his head. Your heart flip-flopped when his gaze dropped to the ground, his signature move when he was about to tell you no.

“If he doesn’t help out, he can’t afford to stay here anyway. It’s not like we’re losing money if he keeps the room for a bit.” You winced at the slight whine in your voice, the opposite of the infallible exterior you’d wanted to present.

Dad laughed, not unkindly, but belittlement panged in your chest nonetheless. “Except for the water, air conditioning, and electricity he uses,” he pointed out, ticking off each item on his fingers. “Unless he plans to only sit in the dark, sweat, and never shower.” He sighed as unmistakable disappointment weaved into your eyes and filled them with tears.

Now you’d have to tell Eddie that the offer was off the table, that he was shit out of luck, that you’d let him down. You never should’ve opened your big mouth in the first place. Captain Save-the-World, except you only ever made things worse. If you wore a cape, it would get snagged on tree branches each time you tried to fly.

“You have a good heart,” Mom spoke up, trying to nurse your wounded feelings, “but kindness doesn’t pay the bills.” She glanced at Dad again, her mouth set in a straight line. “Maybe we can discuss this further.”

You fought to ignore the hope that bloomed from her words, but the corners of your mouth turned upwards before you could rein it in. “Thank you,” you murmured, offering them both a grateful smile.

People called you a ‘bleeding heart,’ teasing you about your constant attempts to solve problems beyond a reasonable scope. At last year’s Thanksgiving dinner, your uncle had informed you—unprompted—that he would never vote for you for President because “you’d just give all my money to the poor.”

While your parents were more realistic with their goals than you were, they did their best to encourage your compassionate spirit; there was no doubt that you got your sense of morality from them. After deliberating on Eddie’s fate for a few hours, they had finally relented—with one stipulation.

“Your mother and I are not going to supervise him, so he’ll have to work night shifts with you,” Dad had said sternly.

“Really?” You clapped your hands in celebration. “Thank you! I mean, um, Eddie thanks you.”

Dad gave your shoulders a quick squeeze; it was his version of you’re welcome. “Yeah, well.” He played it cool, keeping his tone breezy. “It’ll be good practice for when you take over the place.”

You’d nodded in response, your insides twisting in a clashing mix of excitement and shame. Eddie wouldn’t have to live on the street, but it required you to continue lying to your parents.

I’ll tell them the truth once Eddie finds a real job and gets his own place. I can only handle one crisis at a time.

That was how you’d found yourself spending your Tuesday evening with Eddie Munson. The motel was otherwise empty, save for your parents, a middle-aged trucker in room 7, and Phyllis in her usual digs.

You and Dad had spent the end of his shift covering the floor with giant flimsy drop cloths. They hadn’t been used in years, evidenced by the thin layer of dust that coated them when you’d dug them out from the back of the supply closet. You’d tried your best to shake it all off but instead sent yourself into a sneezing fit.

Eddie sauntered into the lobby at a quarter after ten. Gray sweatpants sagged at his waist, the drawstring noticeably missing from the elastic band, and his white cotton undershirt had a tan stain that spread across his left pec.

“Coffee,” he explained with a shrug, rolling a hair tie off of his wrist and pulling his curls into a messy bun at the nape of his neck. He looked at you blankly and waited for you to instruct him, but you had already dove into your schoolwork. “Um, is there a ladder? Tools?” He pursed his lips and scanned the room with indifference.

“Oh! Right, yeah.” You could have smacked yourself for not having everything set up for him. “We don’t have a ladder per se, but this step stool should work fine.” You pulled it out from behind the desk along with a scoring tool, a spray bottle filled with a vinegar and water solution, and a putty knife. “I also grabbed the clock radio from my room if you wanted to listen to some music. Might help pass the time.”

Eddie nodded, watching carefully as you switched the radio on and tuned the dial to a Top 40 station. He shook his head the moment the electric beat of Haddaway’s “What is Love” played through the tinny speakers.

“Absolutely not,” he said with a scoff, dropping the supplies right where he stood, footsteps heavy even with the cloth underneath him. Without another word, he spun the knob past the static until the sound of an electric guitar crackled through. He bobbed his head a few times, finding the rhythm. “This’ll do.”

“Not a Eurodance fan?”

His back was turned to you as he returned to the task at hand which left him unable to see the sarcastic smirk you sported. “Fuck no.” He stepped up on the tool and began cutting into the old wallpaper, puffing out an irritated laugh. “I can’t believe—scratch—you voluntarily—scratch—listen to that–scratch–shit.” His biceps flexed with each flick of the blade in a consistent rhythm.

Drumming your fingernails on the desk, you twirled your pen in your free hand as you reread your own handwriting. You’d stayed at the library and filled notebook pages with bullet points about early childhood development until a squirrely librarian kicked you out at closing time. The choppy sentence fragments begged to be fleshed out into a fully-formed essay, but you couldn’t bring yourself to focus.

Write words. Make edits. Add a comma. Do something, anything, dammit.

Almost an hour passed without you making an iota of progress on your paper. The words swam on the page until they just looked like inky squiggles with no real meaning, your brain blank as if you’d never written anything in your life. Cool air tickled your nose as you exhaled through your lips. Why couldn’t you just concentrate?

“It’s this music,” you muttered to yourself, too low for your company to hear. Your temples throbbed with frustration, and you reached over and snapped back to the previous station.

Eddie’s head whipped around at the sudden change, frowning when he heard pop music instead of the metal that had just been playing. “Seriously?” He leaned one hand on the wall and threw the other up in exasperation.

“Yes, seriously,” you bit back, teeth clenched in annoyance. “I can’t focus on my writing with that on.”

Eddie grumbled something unintelligible but went back to work, the scratching serving as a strange backdrop to the song.

Janet Jackson faded out to a too-chipper deejay. “You folks know what time it is!” His voice reminded you of old-school toothpaste commercials, over-exaggerated and unnaturally polished. “That’s right; it’s time for Rad or Retch—where I play a song from a new artist, and you call in and let me know whether you think it’s rad or if it makes you wanna retch!”

Eddie rolled his eyes, adding an exasperated “Jesus H. Christ,” under his breath.

“This one’s called ‘Watch Me Leave’ by Death’s Echo, a grunge group from—”

The announcement came to an abrupt end as Eddie nearly leaped from the stool to the desk and yanked the plug out of its socket. The two-pronged head hit the floor with a soft thud.

“Hey!” Your eyes widened in confusion and then disbelief, flickering over to where he stood. You expected him to wear a scowl that matched your own; instead, he looked like he’d just taken a knife to the gut, and you took a step back. “Whoa, you okay?”

Eddie tensed the moment he detected your sympathetic tone, shoulders pinched and jaw rigid. “‘M fine.” He pressed the heel of his left hand atop his right knuckles until they cracked. “Sorry.” He bent down and gently plugged the cord back into the wall, but you immediately flicked the power button to the off-position.

It was silent for a full minute, save for the scorer against the wall and the scratch of pen on paper. When Eddie finally spoke, his voice was so soft that you barely heard it.

“That was my band.”

Confusion creased your brows. You set down your pen and stole a glance at him. His body remained facing the wall, but he was no longer working, hands lamely at his sides. “What?”

“Death’s Echo was, uh,” he shook a rogue curl from his eyes, “that was my band.”

“Oh.” Awkwardness seeped into the room and filled every crevice as you wracked your brain for a suitable response. “But…not anymore?”

Eddie clicked his tongue. “Nope.” The p sound popped softly as though signaling the discussion’s end, but there was a pregnant pause before he started removing the wallpaper again.

“Why not?” The question sprang from your tongue, curiosity getting the best of you.

A hesitant chuckle accompanied his sigh. “I thought you didn't make small talk with strangers.” He climbed back on the step stool and ripped off a strip of paper.

“I thought we weren’t strangers anymore,” you quipped back, not missing the smile that ghosted his lips.

“Fair enough.” Eddie conceded easily, not at all angry to be proven wrong. He bit the inside of his cheek and stared up at the yellow-tinged lighting overhead before slicing into the wallpaper. “Sometimes you think you want something, but it turns out to be a steaming pile of horseshit.” The last word was punctuated by a grunt, and the last panel of wallpaper fluttered to the ground. “That’s the music industry in a nutshell.”

You nodded in agreement despite an obvious lack of knowledge.

“They sign your band,” he continued, aiming the spray bottle nozzle at the wall and pulling the trigger, “and you think it’s because they like you. Or at least your music, your sound, whatever.” He wrinkled his nose as he got an unexpected whiff of the vinegar solution’s pungency. “But you’re really just a front for whatever they want to sell. Which, apparently, is grunge.”

You had too many questions. They probably referred to record producers or agents or some other bigwigs, you surmised, but what did they do that made Eddie so cynical?

That was far too loaded to ask, at least in that moment, so you opted for a more humorous follow-up. “You mean it wasn’t all sex, drugs, and rock ‘n roll?” you joked, but Eddie didn’t share in your lightheartedness.

“At the beginning, when we first got signed, yeah.” His brown eyes exuded wistfulness, remembrance of better times. He blinked twice and snapped himself out of it. “We put out a few albums that didn’t completely flop, I guess. And we were the opening act on a couple of tours. Got a good chunk of money in the bank.”

That explained the Calvin Klein underwear he was wearing on that first night. You capped your pen and leaned in, trying not to be overly inquisitive but unable to contain yourself. “So…what happened?” What led you here?

“We get called into a meeting, and we’re all thinking that the label’s gonna tell us we’re headlining, right? Maybe not, like, The Garden, but bigger venues than we usually played. But, uh…” he trailed off and rubbed the tip of his nose with an open palm, “it was an ultimatum: shift from metal to grunge, or get dropped.”

You listened intently as Eddie relayed the ordeal. The label executives had cited the increasing popularity of Nirvana and Pearl Jam along with decreasing interest in heavy metal bands. “Cobain’s selling; Ozzy isn’t,” they’d explained. If Death’s Echo wanted to play to packed arenas and have their music on mainstream radio, they had to adapt to the times.

“I told them we weren’t sellouts and to kiss my ass,” Eddie said to you, huffing out an annoyed breath. “But the rest of the band didn’t give a shit about that; if those suits told them to jump, they’d say ‘how high.’ So, I quit and waited for them to come crawling back.”

He didn’t elaborate after that. He didn’t need to. Because if they’d done as Eddie had hoped, he wouldn’t be performing manual labor just to live in a struggling motel, basking in the gloominess that he wore like a second skin.

“If you could go back and do it differently, would you?” You grimaced at your own intrusiveness. “Sorry, that was—”

“It’s fine.” Eddie didn’t give an answer right away, his teeth grating against his lower lip. “Y’know, I’d like to say no, but losing your record deal, your apartment, your girlfriend, your so-called ‘friends,’ and every nice thing you own can make a guy kinda cynical.”

Girlfriend?

It was far from the most dire item on that list, but it needled at you. Maybe it was the mental image of Eddie watching everything get taken from him and then adding heartbreak on top of it all.

“How about you?”

His voice yanked you from your thoughts and had your heart in your throat. “Huh?”

“You. Your whole deal.” He gestured at you with the scraper. “Why you’re always doing homework like a little nerd.” You couldn't detect a note of taunting in his teasing, only playfulness, just as it had been that very first night.

You scowled for only a second before a smile broke through. “Don’t you have wallpaper to remove?”

Eddie snorted out a laugh. “I see how it is: when it’s my shit, I’m free to talk. But when it’s your shit, I’m a lowly employee.” He held up both hands in mock surrender. “My deepest apologies, Heiress.”

You didn’t bother to argue, choosing instead to pivot to a new subject altogether. “How long does this take, anyway?” Walking out from behind the desk to inspect his work, you ran your finger down the wall. Once you got past the stench of vinegar, he was actually doing a pretty good job.

“You think you could do better?” He saw your gentle ribbing and upped the ante, holding out the putty scraper as if saying, be my guest.

Plucking it from his grasp, you smirked and chose a spot right at eye level. Challenge accepted.

Though the glue had softened considerably, removing it still required decent muscle. You put your bodyweight into it and pushed through the resistance, but you only managed to pull off a little bit.

You heard Eddie laugh through his nose as he stood behind you, watching you struggle. “Harder than it looks, huh?” He ignored your middle finger and stepped a half-inch closer. “Let me help.”

One calloused hand dwarfed yours, his fingers wrapping around where your fist held the scraper. The other found purchase on the bicep of your free arm where your T-shirt’s cuff met skin, stabilizing without entrapping you. You could easily get out of his grasp if you wanted.

You stayed there.

He tightened his grip around yours and made short, downward strokes, admittedly taking off far more glue than you had. “There ya go,” he murmured. His breath was warm on your neck, gooseflesh rising when he spoke. You hoped he wouldn’t notice. “Just like that.”

Butterflies beat their wings in your stomach, a result of the unexpected proximity compounded by an unmet need for connection that starkly contrasted the night shift’s normal solitude. A loose tendril of his hair tickled against your ear, and the realization of how close your bodies actually were shattered whatever spell had been cast.

Eddie pulled away quickly, the air cooling where his hand once rested. Did he also feel that sudden loss of contact, or was it all in your head?

With a shaky breath, you stepped aside and silently returned the tool to him. “Should probably leave this to the expert,” you muttered, forcing nervous laughter. “I have to get back to writing anyway.”

His eyes bored into you as you walked back to the desk, but neither of you said another word. You glanced over at him every so often, noting the perspiration dampening his collar and under his arms as he toiled away at the glue and wished you had a water bottle to offer him.

Maybe next time.

You got halfway through the first body paragraph when Eddie spoke again.

“You’re really not gonna talk?”

You looked up to see him swipe his forearm along his brows as he shot you a tired grin.

“We just had a whole conversation,” you pointed out, returning your attention to your essay.

“About me,” he said. He wiped his palms on his pants, leaving behind a sweaty print, and traipsed over to you. “I mean, every time I see you, you’re either going to school or coming back from school or doing work for school…”

You shrugged, no big deal. “Okay, yeah, I go to school.”

“For what?”

Shit. “Hospitality and hotel management.”

“Really.” Eddie leaned over and snatched up your paper. You reached out to grab it back, but it was too late. The bridge of his nose scrunched as he read the opening paragraph to himself. “Doesn’t look like hospitality to me.” Amusement raised his brows. “Care to explain?”

It was the last thing you wanted to do, but you felt strangely obligated. He’d confided in you, so you should at least moderately indulge him.

“Fine,” you relented, “I’m studying psychology.” That might have been the first time you’d ever said those words aloud in the motel lobby; it was oddly freeing.

Eddie nodded and continued to scan the paper. “You wanna be a shrink?”

“Social worker.”

He let out a low whistle. “That’s a tough gig. Especially if you’re working with kids.” He shook the essay pages for emphasis.

“Yeah. I know.”

“Right.” He shoved one hand in his pants pocket. “What made you decide to be a social worker?”

You breathed out a laugh. “You want the easy answer or the real one?”

He didn’t hesitate before answering. “Real one. Always.” He returned your essay and rested his un-pocketed hand on the desk. Inquiring eyes beckoned you to continue.

With less trepidation than you’d anticipated, you tell him the story of that fateful day in the summer of 1987, just two years after you’d graduated from high school.

You were still working the afternoon shift, and summer break brought its usual influx of guests. People came and went in blurs of luggage, but there was one particular patron who had made her presence known.

“Hi!”

You peered over the desk to find the source of the lively greeting. A young girl, no older than five, stared back at you, syrupy grape stickiness surrounding her lips. The cause was most likely a popsicle, as evidenced by the purple stained stick clenched in her right hand.

“Um, hi,” you said with a smile that was, for the first time in a long while, not encased in customer service insincerity. “What’s your name?” And where did you come from?

Unfazed by your bewilderment, she introduced herself as Izzy and asked you if you wanted to play. “We just have to stay here, or else my mommy will get mad,” she explained with urgency.

You nodded slowly, sorting through the information without raising any alarm. “And where is your mommy?”

Izzy’s hazel eyes darted back towards the hallway. “In our room. She’s with a friend so I can’t go in.” She dropped her voice to what she considered a whisper, but it was still clear as day. “Her friend is a boy.”

Your stomach turned. Of course. Instead of watching her child, this mother was probably shooting up with her boyfriend of the week.

“I can’t play right now, but you can sit here with me until your mommy and her friend come back out,” you said. “I have paper and pens if you wanna draw.”

This satisfied her, and she plopped down on the floor and patted the spot next to her. That day hadn’t been particularly hectic, so you obliged and sat.

“What’re you gonna draw?” Izzy asked, reaching for a blue pen. You didn’t have time to answer before she proudly announced, “I’m gonna draw a flower. Do you like flowers?”

“Mhm.”

Izzy smiled as she surrounded a circle with swirling loops. “You can draw a flower, too. Maybe a rose. Or a sunflower!”

Her excitement at the latter option was all you needed. “Sunflower it is, Miss Izzy.” You drew a circle of your own and filled it with a cross-hatched pattern, curating pointed-tipped petals around it.

“D’you have crayons?” she asked, not looking up from her own flower.

You put down your pen and offered a pitying frown. “No, I’m sorry.”

“S’okay. You should get some, though. ‘Cause you can draw prettier flowers with crayons.”

The two of you stayed on the floor for ten minutes. All the while, she quizzed you on your favorite color, animal, food, and TV show. She was halfway through a heated explanation of why Friend Bear was superior to Share Bear when a frantic voice called out her name.

“Mommy!” Izzy practically flew into her mother’s arms. You watched as the woman’s entire body sagged in relief, pulling her daughter in close. A man trailed behind her, discreetly zipping up his fly and walking out the front door.

“Izzy, I told you to sit in the hall and eat your ice pop,” her mom gently scolded, words muffled by her lips being pressed to Izzy’s scalp.

Izzy scrunched her nose in confusion. “But I finished it.” She pointed at the empty stick, now on the ground where she’d been sitting, as proof. In true childlike fashion, she jumped to a new topic without waiting for the first conversation to conclude. “Mommy, you wanna see what I drawed?”

“Of course, baby.” She easily feigned excitement as Izzy presented her with a series of scribbles that were meant to be various flowers, people, and farm animals. “Wow! I think you’re gonna be an artist one day.”

The little girl continued chatting, blissfully unaware of the panic she’d inadvertently caused. Her mom allowed herself to look away for just a moment to glance at you, mouthing a tiny “thank you” and blinking her tear-filled eyes.

“And…I don’t know,” you lamely supplied as you wrapped up the story. “I guess I realized that I had all of these assumptions, this sort of preconceived notion that this woman was a deadbeat parent, but she obviously loved Izzy more than anything.” You picked at your thumbnail nervously. “No one should have to sell their body for money just to survive. She deserved better than that.”

Eddie stayed quiet for a moment, absorbing everything you’d thrown at him. “And you wanted to help her,” he finally said.

“Yeah.” You thought back to the way her gaze simultaneously held gratitude and guilt. Her daughter was safe, but she knew that this was not the final time she’d be in this predicament.

The experience had awakened a realization in you: working at the motel was never your dream, but it kept a roof over your head and food in your belly. You weren’t left to navigate the world on your own. Independence was a privilege, not a mandate.

“For what it’s worth,” Eddie broke in, “I think you’ll be a great social worker someday.” He rapped his knuckles on the desk twice and slipped back to the awaiting task; despite insisting that you talked to him while he worked, he hadn’t touched any of the tools while you spoke.

Your smile was a thank you, and you tuned the radio back to the metal station Eddie had chosen earlier. He didn’t say anything else, but you noted the subtle tap of his toe against the drop cloth.

Eddie worked for a few more hours until he’d stripped the wall of all paper and glue. “All right,” he said, balancing the step stool on two fingers. Sleepiness softened his own smile, all lips and no teeth. “Let me know when the new wallpaper comes in. You, uh, know where I live.”

“Will do.” Your thumb absently grazed against the words you’d just written, smudging them. You rubbed at the black ink seeping into your skin, silently chastising your own carelessness. “Good night, Eddie.”

He stretched and scratched at the U-neck of his collar, exposing a sliver of chest hair.

“Sweet dreams, Heiress.”

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#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #lam

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arkhamjack · 6 months ago

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Man I love Wolfwood.

He’s a hopeless sinner. He’s full of hope. He’s wretched and broken. He serves cunt. He was traumatised by a violent religious cult resulting in a strained relationship with God. He thugs it out. He believes his purpose lies in protecting those he loves but that he doesn’t deserve that in reciprocation. He’s always sucking on that nic to cope. He also rides a motorcycle with a sidecar for his buddy.

#trigun #trigun maximum #trimax #nicholas d. wolfwood #wolfwood #not art

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denwritesandcries · 4 months ago

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One rock a day keeps the Wilderness away – L.M

Pairing: lottie matthews x fem!reader

Summary: The last thing you expected to happen after a plane crash was for your girlfriend to end up becoming some kind of cult leader fascinated by amulets made of the weirdest and shiny things like a damn owl, yet here you are.

Word count: 1,7k.

Content: 96/wilderness timeline, cursing, pet names, fluff and corny, comfort, skeptic!reader, lottie and reader are secretly little haters.

Note: I guess you could say that I simply love writing fluff and cuddles.

English is not my first language.

If there was one thing everyone at Wiskayok High School was aware of, it was that Lottie Matthews was rich as fuck.

She always wore the most expensive clothes, there was a driver who picked her up at the door and took her everywhere, her house was simply giant and some dare to say that a butler was the one who met them at the door and served them drinks on the nights she had her parties.

The thing is, Lottie was a bit... weird, for a rich girl, which meant that she wasn't as popular at school as she could’ve been. She didn't exactly fit the bad girl role, but she wasn't quite a preppy either, with her extravagant bows and tiaras being the most luxurious thing she would actively display. She was distant at best.

This made you, at the beginning of your relationship, try to spoil her in every way possible, not being able to believe that this sweet and out of reach person could reciprocate your feelings so genuinely when she could have just anyone, so, in addition to showering her with affection, you also showered her with gifts. Accessories, especially. Earrings, necklaces, bracelets, until you understand that jewelry really wasn't her thing, since despite accepting everything with affection, she simply left them stored insisting that you didn't spend your money on it. Lottie was much more appreciative of the little things you gave and did for her.

Now, the last thing you expected was for her to develop a taste for accessories in the damn wilderness of all places.

“Baby, I’m not wearing a necklace with a damn bone hanging from it to go hunting.”

It turns out that, like almost everything involving Lottie, her way of demonstrating her new preferences – maybe hobbies? – was also not very usual and you hadn't exactly taken anything of the royal jewelry type for a trip that was supposed to be quick.

“But I chose and made it for you! Will keep you safe out there, I feel it.”

Oh, yeah. There was also the fact that your girlfriend was perhaps slowly going a little mad and becoming the leader of a religious cult that your teammates were a part of and that she wanted you to participate too.

“Jesus Christ, Lot.”

You didn't want to encourage her. The worry was eating you alive and it's only gotten worse since she confided in you that she finally ran out of her meds.

You, unlike your other teammates, were aware that the things Lottie said or did lately were much more influenced by her own condition than any other truly supernatural factor – as much as you couldn't deny that the cabin and the forest gave you goosebumps –, which made you really stressed and irritable with all your friends as they started to believe in things that didn't exist and put pressure on your girlfriend for answers as if she were some kind of prophet.

You managed to keep everything under control and keep her from straying too far from reality to a certain point, but then the whole situation with the group being attacked and Van being seriously injured happened and so nothing you did could convince Lottie that there was nothing what she could have done about it and that only seemed to encourage her more when the redhead recovered enough to confide you all that she should have listened to the feeling Lottie had and that she felt safer with the “amulet” she received from her.

The result is that you are now the target of Lottie's worries and she insists that you wear the charms and trinkets she makes.

It's actually quite cute, you've caught her once or twice sitting by the fire trying to figure out how to tie a knot that won't snap the cord, her eyes glazed over and focused. You could use it, as bizarre as it would be, if it was just a silly gift from your girlfriend, but since that's not what it is, you don't want to put even more things in her head in case something actually happens.

“But then what’s going to protect you when you leave?” Lottie asks, head tilted to the side in alarm and you can only notice how her bangs fall over her eyes in a messy and cute way.

“Maybe the gun I always carry with me?”

However, it was becoming difficult not to encourage her in any way, because aside from bones or occasionally some different plants, Lottie also seemed to see signs in anything that stood out a little, like the bright and colorful rocks you had made a habit of bringing at her, guarding everything that caught her attention like a damn owl.

It started as a silly thing, with a cracked and shiny rock you found near the lake the day you guys found the cabin, you cleaned it and handed it to her with a shy smile, like it was one of your gifts back home, just to cheer her up a little and since then she kept the rock with her at all times – even if sometimes she woke up twitching because she ended up lying against it in the middle of the night. That seemed to turn the key and over the next few days you noticed that she spent time looking for new types nearby the house and so you committed to bringing all the pretty items she might like when you went on your hunts with Natalie, from strange rocks to little crystals lost along the way, just because she looked so happy when you handed them to her.

You think her cute gesture turned into more of a paranoia like 'one rock a day keeps the wilderness away', but at least it makes her more relaxed and happy on days when everything is bad.

One day you return to the cabin with Natalie in tow looking very upset because you've come back empty-handed again and your head is drooping with exhaustion and frustration. When you finally enter Lottie is waiting for you with an appreciative, warm look in her face.

“Did you get anything?” she asks, wrapping her arm around you and guiding you both to your usual corner so you can sit side by side.

You mumble negatively and bury your head in her neck. She rephrases the question when she notices your discouragement:

“Did you get anything for me?”

You sigh, smiling at her, “That I did.”

Lottie watches you curiously as you move to take something out of your pocket and show it to her and you notice the exact moment she registers what’s in your hand.

“A quartz.” She takes it from you like it’s the most fragile thing in the world, “It’s a pink quartz.”

“Is it?” You ask, stifling a yawn with your hand, “I don't know a thing about those stones and stuff, just thought it was pretty and you would like it.”

“Well, I do like it very much. Thank you.” Lottie gives you a soft smooch on the cheek, “And it's not a stone, baby, it's more like a gem or a crystal.”

“Hmm,” you hum in agreement.

She leans her entire weight against your body and smiles innocently when you complain: “Misty told me the other day that gems like that mean peace and unconditional love.”

“You've been talking to Misty? About rocks and gems?” You look at her in disbelief.

“I feel really lonely without you here with me, you know?” Lottie shrugged.

You felt a little guilty and moved closer, leaving a kiss on her shoulder.

“I'm sorry, Lot. I miss you when I'm away too,” you murmur, rubbing her arm in comfort, “Why don't you tell me about your day?”

Lottie rolls her eyes in a way that reminds you so much of the days when you guys would get together to talk shit about everyone you knew in these stupid parties that your heart skips a beat.

“Ugh, if I hear Mari complain about one more damn thing, I’m going to tell you to stop chasing bears and order everyone to serve her for dinner.”

“Please, don’t.” You snort a dumbfounded laugh, “They might actually do it.”

You end up lying down with her curled up and facing you, gently drawing small circles on your hand.

“Got something in your mind?”, you brush some strands of hair from her face affectionately.

“I just have no idea what to do with… them,” she shrugs hesitantly.

You know what she means immediately and move to take her face in your hands, feeling her lean into your touch.

“Oh, Lottie.”

“I know what you and Nat do for us is very important, but I wish you didn't have to,” she mumbles, as if she were confiding a secret, getting impossibly close to you. “I wish you would stay here, with me, where it is safe. Is it too selfish? Want to keep you all to myself?”

You let out a shaky breath, not trusting your own voice when you can feel her breath against your lips like this.

“Well, if Shauna can hide her diary in the attic like a freak then I guess you're allowed to keep some things to yourself too, hun.” You stutter, feeling your skin heat up in embarrassment.

“But you're not a thing.” Lottie wrinkles her nose.

“You can keep me anyway, I don’t mind.” You shrug this time, faking indifference to make her laugh.

And she does, “Babe!”

Just when everything is silent and you think Lottie has slept with your legs wrapped around hers and using your arm as a pillow, she speaks again:

“You know, my new quartz would make a really cute necklace.”

“Lot,” you yawn against her hair.

“Will you use it if I make one?” She looks at you, blinking her big brown eyes in the most convincing way possible, “Just this one, please, for me?”

You sigh, “Yes, Lottie. I'll use your magic stone.”

She deflates, “Don’t talk about it like it’s crack, babe.”

Lottie kisses you slower than usual before you leave as she finally notices the pink gem hanging from your neck and you happily ignore Natalie's mockery as you run after her to catch up to the forest.

#yellowjackets x reader #lottie mathews x reader #yellowjackets lottie #yellowjackets x you #lottie matthews x you #lottie matthews #yellowjackets show #denwrites

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campgender · 8 months ago

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wait do people know that certain influential ~1980s lesbian separatisms really pushed “mutual” sex as a requirement to be a good feminist? like “oh we aren’t like those dirty stone butch / high fems, we practice equality because we both touch each other’s junk.” i feel like i didn’t know that for several years & it would’ve made a big difference in understanding the roots of the rhetoric around me

#mac.txt #impurity culture #οἱ λίθοι κράξουσιν #the cult of reciprocity

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lunastrophe · 8 months ago

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BG3 Drow Lore 🕷️ Minthara's alurlssrin

Alurlssrin is a drow term Minthara uses to describe the bond she shares with Tav - but what does it precisely mean?

🕷️ Alurlssrin In BG3 - alurlssrin appears in some specific Minthara’s lines, when the player character romances her. According to Narrator, it is …a word used rarely, describing the deepest bonds of trust and love.

When asked about it, Minthara says simply that alurlssrin means “love” and confesses that she never really expected to use it. In another line, she seems to be convinced that alurlssrin is the kind of bond that can be life-lasting.

When Tav tries to reciprocate, saying: I alurlssrin you too, Minthara – with a hint of amusement – explains that alurlssrin is a noun.

The alurl- part may suggest that this word means “the best” kind of an emotional bond, or something close to it (alurl – “best, foremost” in Drowic).

🕷️ Alurlssrin And Ssinssrigg - in R. A. Salvatore’s The Legacy, it is stated that …there is no word in the drow language for love. The closest word (...) is ssinssrigg, but that is a term better equated with physical lust or selfish greed.

Ssinssrigg is another term that appears in one of Minthara’s lines, when the player character romances her, but does not have her high approval. She says then: What we share is no more than ssinssrigg, a passion that burns fierce, but has no foundation.

But... since according to drow lore, there is no word for “true” love in Drowic – and the closest term is ssinssrigg - where did alurlssrin come from?

🕷️ Drow Words For Love - alurlssrin was first mentioned by Ed Greenwood in his post (TheEdVerse, Twitter, Jan. 2023) about Eilistraee and drow words for love:

Eilistraee knows all the drow words for love, and the elvish ones, too. The Drow words are: alurlssrin = unselfish, deep love, raggath = act of love (lovemaking), lurraggath = act of love (sacrificial or noble deed), ssinssrigg = passion, lust, greed, longing, love.

(Among elvish words for love, apparently also known to Eilistraee, there is nor = love, essence of passion. It also appears in one of Minthara's lines, when she calls her lover ust-nor - thank you to @vspin for messaging me about this!)

It seems, then, that alurlssrin is a drow word that is known to Eilistraee and most likely to her followers...

...but Lolth-sworn drow – or at least Menzoberranyr drow – do not know / use it. 🤔 So how is it possible that Minthara, a (former) paladin of Lolth from Menzoberranzan, is familiar with it?

🕷️ Alurlssrin In Minthara's Vocabulary

I have a feeling that alurlssrin appears in Minthara’s lines simply because a drow word for deep, true love was needed for the dialogue. Still, I tried to come up with some more lore-adequate explanations:

🕷️ Some Very Old Word – perhaps in Menzoberranzan, alurlssrin is a half-forgotten archaism that is no longer regularly used, but an educated (or bookwormish) drow can still stumble across it in centuries-old books and figure out its meaning.

🕷️ Language Of Heretics – as a paladin of Lolth, it is possible that Minthara came to contact with Eilistraeans – or with their culture – at some point. She might be even trained to recognize this particular kind of “heresy”, learning symbols and words popularly used among the followers of Eilistraee... alurlssrin included.

🕷️ Not So Unknown Anymore – language tends to change over time, and between the quote from The Legacy and the events of Baldur’s Gate 3, there is a gap of over 130 years. Maybe during this time, alurlssrin term became less unknown in Menzoberranzan? Although considering its connection to Eilistraee and her cult, this may be the least likely explanation.

Regardless of everything, the fact that Minthara calls the bond between her and Tav alurlssrin is certainly meaningful. Typically, many drow like her might not be exactly (or at all) familiar with a sheer concept of deep, unselfish, lasting love...

For more of my drow lore ramblings, feel free to check my pinned post 🕷️

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #minthara #minthara baenre #lolth sworn drow #drow lore #drow culture #dnd lore #dark elves #drow #bg3 drow lore #bg3 drow

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noona96n · 5 months ago

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i think Armand is bored and resentful and chronically unable to be alone

he let Lestat take down his cult, he manipulated Lestat into taking down his cult; a cult where he was leader, mother, father; where he was the voice of god and his orders absolute. and then they found a theater company together where he was writer, director, maître; the untouchable leader of the coven; the master of life and death. and then Louis came, a shiny new thing that his company was fascinated by, just like how his children were fascinated by Lestat, and he was in love. once again, in a blink of an eye, in lOvE. and then, just like Lestat, Louis is foundational to the dismantlement of centuries of his role, centuries of service, of monotony.

same old shit until Lestat, until Louis.

until Daniel.

bcs, let's be real, this relationship with Louis? it's bland, it's boring. it's endless granting of empathy & servitude w/ no gratitude and reciprocity. it's a prison for Armand as much as it is for Louis.

Daniel... Daniel is new, Daniel is fascinating.

the boy who was crying and bleeding and shaking in his boots and yet still find him fascinating; the boy who resisted him, the boy who loved live and wanted to live, yet laid his head on Armand's shoulder and surrendered to the sweet embrace of death.

the sassy, insolent boy who looks him in the eyes, looks death in the eyes, dares to dIsReGaRd him, and calls him a liar in so many words.

perfect, fascinating boy indeed.

#armand x daniel #the vampire armand #armand #daniel molloy #old maniel #old daniel molloy #interview with the vampire #iwtv #amc iwtv #amc interview with the vampire #assad zaman #eric bogosian #noona96n

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andvys · 1 year ago

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I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss | part 19

Warnings: slight angst, mentions of drugs, alcohol consumption, reader getting high, spin the bottle.... don't hate me,

Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!reader, Eddie Munson x fem!reader, Robin Buckley x Chrissy Cunningham

Summary: The last high school party ends in a way you never thought it would

Word count: 8k+

A/N: @hellfire--cult Roe, you are such a big help, thank you so so much for always helping me with ideas and dialogues, ilysm

series masterlist

The dreamy look in Chrissy’s eyes isn’t very hard to miss, it’s been there for weeks now. The smile that lingers on her soft features matches the lovestruck eyes. Lost in her thoughts, she completely dismisses the things you and Heather are talking about. You don’t take it to heart.

It took you a moment but once you noticed how her eyes light up and how her cheeks flush a deeper color every time Robin comes around, you realized what was happening to your sweet friend.

And by the look on Robin’s face every time she sees Chrissy, you know that she is feeling just the same.

Chrissy giggles more than usual whenever the taller girl speaks – she could say anything to her and Chrissy would smile and look up at her dreamily with her cute red cheeks. She probably doesn’t even notice how flustered Robin gets or how she stutters over certain words sometimes.

You are happy about Chrissy’s newfound feelings for her, knowing that Robin reciprocates them. She doesn’t have to hurt anymore.

“Are you gonna wear that to the party?” Heather asks, eying the dress on your frame.

You stop applying mascara and pull back to look at her reflection through the large mirror on Chrissy’s pink wall.

“Yeah, why?” You ask, looking down at yourself – self consciously.

She shrugs, closing the magazine she was previously reading, she throws it on Chrissy’s bed.

“It’s a shame that Munson isn’t coming tonight, I know he would’ve loved you in that dress,” she says, winking.

Chrissy stops brushing her hair and turns her head to look at you.

The look on Heather’s face is smug, she is twirling her curls with her finger, wiggling her brows at you.

It is a shame that he isn’t coming but tonight is his last campaign before he gives up his beloved Dungeon Master position to someone else, Gareth probably. High school is over and Hellfire club will no longer be a part of his life – he will still play but it won’t ever be the same again.

You are no longer Cheer Captain and Eddie is no longer the Dungeon master.

There is something sad about having to say goodbye to your High School days but there is also something exciting about stepping into the unknown and getting out into the world.

You and Eddie celebrated by having lunch with your mom and his uncle after the graduation ceremony. It was nice, you had fun but a part of you couldn’t rest, knowing that Steve’s parents couldn’t make it to see him graduating.

You haven’t seen much of him either, you saw him in the crowd and on stage when he got his diploma but that’s all, you couldn’t find him anywhere else afterwards. You couldn’t congratulate him.

A part of you hopes that he will be at the party tonight, though you doubt that he will come.

You don’t feel your cheeks warming up, nor do you notice the look in your own eyes. You shift uncomfortably, breaking eye contact, you lean closer to the mirror again. You place the mascara bottle back in your little bag and reach for the powdered blush.

“Oh honey, you don’t need any more of that,” Chrissy says, giggling as she touches your hot cheek.

You roll your eyes and shake your head at them, “you are both insufferable,” you mumble, “it’s a normal dress, he wouldn’t think anything of it.”

Heather giggles behind you, “oh my sweet y/n,” she sighs as she kneels down behind you, carefully wrapping her arms around you, she leans her chin on your shoulder, “you are so oblivious.”

You wonder what she would think if she found out that Nancy would agree with her words.

“And so blind,” Chrissy adds.

“Maybe our girl needs a pair of cute glasses,” Heather says, running her fingers through your hair.

“I don’t need glasses!”

“Sure, you don’t.”

“Heather,” you mumble, raising your brows at her, “how about we talk about you and pizza guy.”

“Pizza and weed guy,” Chrissy corrects you with a smile.

Unlike you, Heather doesn’t blush or get flustered. She smiles and shrugs, “what about us?”

You and Chrissy face each other with surprised looks on your faces.

For weeks, you have been speculating about Heather and Argyle, wondering if the two of them are a thing or not. Heather had been secretive about the meetups. At first, you both thought that she continued seeing Billy but then you saw him making out with a girl from the cheer squad.

Apparently Heather and Billy have never been a ‘thing’ in the first place. It was a ‘no strings’ kind of thing until one of them got sick of the other – which, you could easily suspect Billy to be the one who got sick but it was the other way around.

Heather had stood him up for Argyle. Billy didn’t give much of a reaction to it but unfortunately, he set his eyes back on you – much to your dismay.

“There is an ‘us’?” You ask in surprise.

Heather smiles brighter, she bites her lip and leans back, “maybe,” she grins, “I mean he just asked me to be his girlfriend the other day,” she says casually as she looks down at her nails.

You and Chrissy gasp at her words, you both turn around to face her and squeal in excitement as you both throw your arms around her, catching her off guard. She falls down against the carpet and you both join her, giggling.

“Oh my god!” Heather laughs.

“Heather has a boyfriend!” Chrissy says in a sing-song voice.

“We gotta celebrate it,” you say, squeezing your friend tightly.

“Oh we’re going to,” Chrissy smirks at you.

“I guess we’re getting drunk tonight.”

You would be lying if you said that you aren’t feeling the slightest bit nervous. You haven’t had any alcohol since the night you went on a date with Ray and that night ended badly.

By the time you actually make it to the big graduation party at Tina’s place, it’s already in full swing. The music is picked and chosen by her best friend Faithe – who strictly listens to 80’s pop music; Duran Duran, Wham!, Madonna – especially Madonna.

Your friends scatter away from you the moment they lay their eyes on Robin and Argyle – Argyle who scoops Heather up in his arms and kisses her in front of everyone to see. You can’t help but laugh.

Robin and Chrissy disappear in the crowd, giggling and leaning closer to each other, both sporting deep blushes on their faces. Cute.

Now that you’re alone, you can’t help but wish that you didn’t come. You wish Eddie was here. You are not mad at them for leaving you behind – they’re in love and in their own little worlds. You don’t blame them.

Though you can’t help but feel out of place and awkward standing here in the doorway, all by yourself.

Is that how your friends always felt when you would leave them just to be with Steve?

With a sigh, you walk further into the house, pushing through the crowds until you make it to the kitchen. You feel relieved to see that it isn’t as crowded as the living room or even the hallway.

The kitchen counter is littered with various drinks and snacks, greasy junk food that will surely look more appealing to you when you’re drunk. You grab yourself one of the red solo cups. Just as you’re about to pour yourself some punch, you get interrupted by a hand closing in around your wrist.

“Don’t drink that shit.”

You look over your shoulder, only to roll your eyes in annoyance when you notice the smirk on his face and the gross look in his eyes.

“Fuck off, Hargrove,” you mumble as you push your hand off your wrist.

“Let me make you a real drink, baby.”

Once again, you have to roll your eyes at him. You place the cup down and turn around to face him, “what and spike it with drugs?”

He raises his brows, lifting his hand up, he places it on his chest – of course, he wears the shirt unbuttoned, well almost.

“What do you think of me?”

“You don’t wanna know,” you murmur under your breath.

His blue eyes glisten with something, the smirk of amusement never falls. He takes a step closer – at least, he smells good.

“You look like you can use a drink, let me make you one. It’s better than the shit you were about to drink,” he says as he reaches for the bottle of whiskey behind you, purposely leaning closer until his chest is almost pressed against yours and you can feel his minty breath on your skin. He glances down at your lips.

“Billy.”

“Yes, sweet thing?”

You put your hand on his chest and push him away, “you’re not slick, stop trying to get in my pants.”

He chuckles and leans back again, he unscrews the cap of the glass bottle.

“Tell me,” he reaches for the red up and pours in some of the whiskey, “don’t you want to have a good time?”

“Uh, I am having a good time,” you lie.

He chuckles again and places the bottle back on the table before he reaches for another. He gives you a doubtful look, “you don’t look like you’re having fun.”

“I just got here.”

“And you already look like you wanna get out.”

You clench your jaw and look away, not saying anything.

“Where’s your boyfriend?”

“Eddie is not my boyfriend,” you mumble, narrowing your eyes at him.

Eyes smug and lips curled into a smirk, he shakes his head, “how’d you know who I was talking about?”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you huff.

“Is he not here tonight?” He asks as he holds out the cup to you.

You look down at the mixed drink, hesitating before you give in and take it from his hand.

“No,” you shake your head and lift the cup up to your lips, ignoring the way he looks at you as you take the first sip. The strong and bitter taste trickles down your throat, you can’t help but squint your eyes, “wow, that’s strong,” you say before taking another sip.

Billy groans, “shit, and here I thought I could make him jealous enough to finally confess his feelings for you.”

You swallow the drink just in time before you start choking.

You have been good at avoiding that topic after your conversation with Nancy.

“Are you okay?” He chuckles, stepping closer to pat your back gently, “do you need me to make you feel better?”

“Billy!” You groan as you push his hand off.

“It’s so hot when you say my name–”

“Leave her alone, Hargrove.”

Steve.

His voice sends shivers down your spine but it also fills you with relief.

Billy is not a threat, at least not to you. He might get on your last nerve but he is not Ray. Still, you are always annoyed by his presence.

Billy’s eyes light up like the ones of a kid on christmas morning. His smirk widens and he turns around.

Eddie may not be here but Steve is. Steve who wants you just as much as Eddie does. Steve who got jealous at every small interaction you had with Billy – Steve who still gets jealous.

Steve glares at Billy, with his hands on his hips, he waits for the latter to step away from you.

They look at each other and you are surprised to see Billy so relaxed, the sight of Steve usually makes him angry. Tonight, he seems to be in a different mood though. The scowl is replaced by a smirk.

He looks back at you before he steps away, “if you wanna have a good time, you know where to find me,” he winks.

“No thanks,” you scrunch your face up in disgust.

He chuckles and finally walks away, passing by Steve only to halt beside him. Billy stares him down, another chuckle of amusement falls from his lips. He slaps Steve’s shoulder, “lighten up, Harrington. Maybe you’ll get lucky tonight.”

Steve shrugs his hand off, he clenches his jaw and glares at the blond.

Billy shakes his head, “you sure need to blow off some steam,” he smirks, raising his brows, he gestures to you, “she needs it too – although, I’m sure Munson helps her with that,” he whispers with a smug look on his face.

“Fuck off,” Steve grumbles, though he can’t stop himself from feeling jealous.

Surprisingly, Billy drops it and walks away. Though, both you and Steve know that this isn’t the last you will see of Billy tonight.

Steve rolls his eyes and huffs in annoyance before he makes his way over to you.

Still with the drink in your hand, you stand in the same spot as before. Staring at him, unknowingly making him nervous.

“Hey,” he smiles.

He takes in the sight of you in your little black dress, your hair is falling softly over your shoulders, the front pieces are secured with glittery clips, your lips are a soft pink, shiny with gloss. Your manicured fingers are wrapped around the red solo cup.

You look beautiful. He wants to say, but he’s not sure if that’s something you want to hear from him again.

“Hi,” you smile up at him.

“Did your friends ditch you?”

“Yes, actually,” you chuckle, “Chrissy is hanging out with her… new best friend Robin and Heather is with Argyle.”

“Oh, the new guy with the long hair?” He asks, gesturing to the hair.

“Yeah!”

“Ah,” he nods.

Steve looks better, there are no dark circles under his eyes anymore, though his eyes still hold the same sadness as before.

You didn’t expect to see him here tonight. Him and Tommy aren’t friends anymore and now that he and Nancy are broken up, he doesn’t have her either. Steve always hated coming to parties alone so that leaves you wondering…

“Are you here with someone?” You ask, feeling a rush of jealousy at the thought of him being on a date with some other girl.

He shakes his head. Watching the way your features soften and your shoulder slump with relief when he says ‘no’.

“You’re here by yourself?”

“Yeah, I-I didn’t want to come but it’s the last high school party,” he says, shrugging. “I didn’t want to miss it.” I didn’t want to miss you. He reaches for one of the beers on the table, though when he opens the can and takes the first sip, he scrunches his face up in disgust. He hates lukewarm beverages, especially alcoholic ones.

“You don’t look like you’re having fun.”

“You don’t either,” he chuckles, eying the bored expression on your face.

“Well, getting drunk by yourself isn’t fun.”

Steve’s eyes are soft in a way they had never been before, not even when you just started dating, when things were still good, when he was still good to you. And just his eyes alone, the look in them is enough to cause a whirlwind of emotions inside of you.

You remember your night together. The one back in december. The one that was supposed to be your last night together. The one when you said goodbye – the one that was supposed to be your last goodbye.

There will never be a goodbye for you and Steve, not really.

“But… we could spend some time together.”

The look in his eyes is one of surprise. You may have been kinder to him in the past few weeks, but he still didn’t expect you to want to spend time with him.

“Y-You want to spend time with me?”

A mixture of emotions rush through him. Excitement, happiness but also nervousness. The last time you had spent a night together, it ended with you both crying.

You look around and he just now notices the sadness in your eyes.

The last time you went to one of Tina’s parties, he got smashed and he broke your heart. You want to replace those memories with new ones. As though it could ever kill the old ones.

“You don’t have to say yes, there’s plenty of girls who’d want to–”

“I wanna spend time with you.”

A shy smile appears on your face when your features relax again.

He smiles back, though he can’t help but wonder where Eddie is.

“Eddie isn’t here tonight?”

He watches you closely, the way your lips set into a slight pout and your brows furrow.

“No.”

Did something happen? He wonders. Where you go, Eddie goes. It’s odd to see you without him after seeing you with him, everywhere.

“Right so… Uh, what should we do?”

“What do you mean?”

You give him a smirk, placing the drink back on the counter, you lift your hand up. Steve can’t help but follow your movements with his eyes, only to stare in surprise when you lift your hand and reach for something… in your bra. He just now notices how the locket rests perfectly between your boobs.

He clears his throat and looks away with a blush on his cheeks.

“Are we getting drunk or high?” You hold the joint in front of his eyes, giggling when his eyes widen even further.

He grabs your hand and pulls it down, trying to hide the joint in your hand.

“Y/n!” He yells in a whisper, looking around to see if anyone saw, but there is no one looking at the two of you, there is no one in the kitchen at all. He turns back, looking down at you with a bewildered look on his face.

“Or both?” You giggle, “Eddie and I do both sometimes.”

He knows that it’s not only your looks that have changed in the past few months – it’s nothing drastic, it’s only different clothes, different makeup and your hair that you wear differently – maybe your perfume too. Clearly, you have changed too. You will always be a sweet girl, the one that is too kind to the world despite how harshly it treated you in the past, but he wasn’t aware that your opinion on drugs has changed.

He shouldn’t be surprised about the joint in your hand. You do hang out with Eddie, after all. Though, he didn’t expect you to be so open about this. Now, he can’t help but wonder if there are other things that you do with Eddie.

Steve won’t ask questions that he might regret asking. Instead, he agrees to both and pushes any thought that only leaves him upset, away. He wants to have a good night. He wants to have one good last high school party with you.

So, he takes the joint from you with the hand that is still holding the beer and with his free hand, he reaches for yours. Interlocking his fingers with yours. He feels his heart skipping a beat when you don’t pull away.

“Let’s do both.”

A smile tugs at your lips, you grab your drink from the counter, “let’s go outside.”

As Steve leads you out of the kitchen, he pulls you even closer to him before you walk into the crowded hallway. Neither of you notice the eyes that have set on you.

“Would you look at that?” Carol smirks as she turns her head to look at Tommy, who is looking down at his beer in boredom.

He lifts his head, looking down at Carol, he raises his brows at her.

She rolls her eyes and nudges her head in your direction.

“Oh,” he chuckles when he sees the two of you.

“Let’s make this party more interesting.”

Chrissy is drunk, not drunk on alcohol, drunk on something else.

Robin is talking about her favorite bands, the ones she wants to see live at some point. She’s waving her hand around as she talks – rambles. Robin’s cheeks are flushed but Chrissy doesn’t know whether it’s from the heat, the alcohol or something else – she hopes that it’s from something else.

Chrissy nods along with a smile on her face, admiring the girl in front of her. Loving the way Robin leans closer to her so she doesn’t have to scream over the loud music. She can’t unsee the small differences between them; Robin’s nails are painted black, silver rings adorn her long fingers while Chrissy’s nails are painted a baby pink color, a single golden ring is on her middle finger. Robin’s clothes are dark, Chrissy’s clothes are bright and girly. Their music taste is not the same, though Chrissy is open for changes. She loves how different they are.

Robin’s hair is short, her curls are messy, her bangs are long and they need to be cut, Chrissy can’t help but raise her hand to brush them away from her eyes so she can see her beautiful eyes.

Robin’s eyes widen at Chrissy’s action, the already pink blush on her cheeks takes on a red color and the blonde girl in front of her can’t help but giggle to herself when Robin stops all her rambling and starts staring at her instead, in silence.

Neither of them know how the other actually feels, if they weren’t so scared, they’d see the obvious signs.

They look into each other’s eyes, both trying to fight the smiles off their faces. Neither of them notice the girl that stopped in front of them with a worried look on her face.

“Hey, lover girls. Have you seen y/n?”

Both of them tear the gazes away from one another, clearing their throats and looking awkwardly at the brunette.

“W-What?” Chrissy asks, feeling grateful for the foundation she had put on her face earlier tonight. She can feel her hot cheeks.

Heather looks around the room, trying to spot you in the crowds but you are nowhere to be seen.

“I haven’t seen her since we got here.”

Robin straightens her back, a worried look takes over her face as well. She hasn’t even greeted you properly, too focused on the blonde beside her.

“Oh,” Chrissy mumbles, getting up to look around as well, “do you think Eddie came?”

“No, he takes his campaigns very seriously,” Robin says with wide eyes, “he got mad at me for even asking if he’d come. It’s the cult of Vecna tonight – whatever that means.”

“I’ve looked for her everywhere but–”

“She’s playing spin the bottle with Carol and the others.”

All three of them turn around to face the girl that chimed in. Tina.

“She’s what!?”

Tina chuckles in amusement, she nudges her chin into the direction of the dining room.

“Looks like she’s having fun,” is all she says before she walks off again.

The three girls share a look of confusion before they make their way over to the other room. Trying not to bump into any of the drunken girls who are dancing carelessly.

They all expect to walk in on a very drunk you. Because, usually it takes a lot to convince you to join a game of truth or dare, never have i ever and let alone spin the bottle. You don’t like kissing strangers or risking the possibility to kiss someone you cannot stand.

Though when they walk into the room and they see you sitting in a circle with a few people you don’t like, they can’t help but halt in their tracks and stare in confusion.

Tommy, Carol, Billy, Nancy, Jonathan, and a few girls from the cheer squad are sitting in the circle. None of them which you can stand – well, except for Jonathan, maybe.

And then there is Steve, who sits beside you.

You look… sober. Maybe a little intoxicated but very far from drunk or high. Although, when Robin takes a closer look at you, she notices the redness in your eyes, maybe you are a little high.

“What the hell,” Chrissy mumbles, looking at all the people in the circle.

Your lipstick is still intact, you probably haven’t kissed yet.

Carol is the first to notice the three girls, a smirk appears on her smug face, “oh, why don’t you join us?”

You turn your head, suddenly feeling flustered when you see your friends. Heather’s face says it all, ‘what the fuck?’

“No thanks, Carol.”

Billy smirks at Heather, “oh come on, Heather. Don’t you want a little kiss?”

She scrunches her face up in disgust, “no thanks, Hargrove. I’ve had enough of you.”

Chuckles sound through the room and Tommy claps his hand on Billy’s back, “you got burned.”

Billy chuckles, “not really, I’m gonna kiss someone else tonight,” he smirks, turning to look at you.

You don’t even know how you let yourself get roped into this. This wasn’t even supposed to be a game of spin the bottle, it was supposed to be truth or dare – though Tommy changed his decision at the last minute and managed to convince all the others as well. You didn’t want to chicken out, so you stayed and luckily, you didn’t have to kiss anyone yet. Neither did Steve.

For the first time tonight, you feel relieved that Eddie isn’t here.

You glance at Robin and Chrissy who stare at the men in the circle – both sporting looks of disgust. You smile in amusement. They both take a seat on the loveseat, clearly not interested in joining the game.

“Heather, come on,” Tommy smirks, eying her up and down, “it’s the last time you get to play one of these silly games. After this night, we’re all adults.”

“No thanks,” Heather snorts as she crosses her arms over her chest, “you still need to grow some, Hagan.”

This time it’s Billy who laughs at him, he leans closer, “burned,” he chuckles.

Nancy rolls her eyes, “I’m done playing.”

“Oh but Nancy, the game hasn’t even started yet,” Carol smirks at her, stopping her from getting up by placing her hand on her upper arm.

Nancy glares at the redhead and pushes her hand off. Jonathan looks tense beside her, he sits there awkwardly, looking like he wants to be anywhere but here.

How did Carol even convince these two to join?

Tommy and Billy look like they are having the time of their lives. The cheerleaders look… bored. Carol looks smug as always. You and Steve? You are both trying not to burst into giggles.

When Carol found the two of you in the backyard, you were laying on the grass, passing the joint back and forth and laughing about things that weren’t even funny. She got you at the right time, you and Steve would have said yes to anything in the states you were in. You were looking for amusement and now, well, now you got it.

Sarah kisses Tommy. Tommy kisses Hailey. Carol looks pissed.

You guess that the rumors about them are true. They are broken up. But what is new? No one has a messier on and off relationship than these two.

Hailey, one of the girls from the cheer squad, is the one who always makes up all these rumors that the people love so much. Her bright red hair makes her skin appear even more pale, though they match with the red lips which are now smudged. She spins the bottle and finally it lands on the one who has been waiting to be kissed.

Billy.

You are pretty sure that Billy had a taste of the redhead before – there aren’t many girls he hasn’t been with yet. He gets around.

You scoot a little closer to Steve and glance at him in disgust at the makeout session that is happening in front of your face. Gross.

Steve can’t help but chuckle at the look on your face.

“Dude,” Tommy laughs at his friend, “calm down.”

From the corner of your eye, you see Robin and Chrissy leaving.

When Billy pulls away, he gives Hailey a pat on the cheek. She giggles at him and licks her lips as she sits back in her place.

“This is gonna appear in my nightmare tonight,” Steve whispers to you.

You hold your hand in front of your mouth as you laugh at his words.

When Billy spins the bottle, your night changes for the worse.

You watch it spin with a pounding heart, for the first time, you watch it nervously.

Please don’t let it be me, please don’t let it be me, please don’t–

The glass bottle stops spinning and it’s pointing right at you. Oh god. No.

The music in the other room is still playing just as loud as before, though the laughter from Tommy and Carol somehow sounds louder than Billy Joel’s voice blaring through the speakers.

You don’t notice the way Steve tenses up beside you or the way his eyes flash with anger and jealousy.

“Fuck yes,” Billy chuckles.

You only feel the despair in your body and the annoyance that rushes through you when you look at a smug Billy, who looks like he’s won the lottery. His eyes are filled with excitement, his lips that are now red thanks to Hailey’s lipstick curl into a smirk.

“Come here, y/n.”

Steve clenches his fist and his jaw. The fire inside of him is burning.

“Yeah, y/n,” Carol tilts her head as she takes in the hesitation on your face, “don’t be such a pussy.”

Of course these words would come back to you. It’s what you said to her when she refused to kiss Lily, who already left after a few rounds.

You roll your eyes and take a sip of your drink before you put the cup down.

Heather, who is still around, gives you an apologetic look. God, you are glad that she doesn’t like him anymore, you would have preferred to be a ‘pussy’ than kiss some guy that your friend likes.

You meet Billy in the middle.

He doesn’t even hesitate to cup your cheeks with his hands. He doesn’t lean in, right away. He looks over at Steve for a split second, almost laughing at the look on his face. He turns his attention back on you.

You really don’t want to do this. You really don’t want to kiss him. You’d honestly prefer to kiss anyone else in this room except for Billy Hargove. Anyone. You feel the eyes on you. You feel Steve’s eyes burning into your skin. You feel Carol’s eyes on you. Heather’s and even Nancy’s.

Billy smells like cigarettes, whiskey and cologne.

He smashes his lips against yours and kisses you. You close your eyes to make it less awkward. You begrudgingly kiss him back. He slides his hand down to your waist and pulls you closer until your chest is pressed against his.

You want to roll your eyes at Tommy’s whistle and at Carol’s giggle but you ignore them.

Billy kisses you roughly – it’s not as bad as the kiss you have had with Ray but you still can’t shake the fact that you are kissing him. At least, his lips are soft. They taste like strawberry – probably thanks to Hailey and her strawberry lip gloss that she always wears over her red lipstick.

Billy’s lips move slower now but still just as deep, you feel his breath on your skin, his touch that is surprisingly soft. If you didn’t know any better, you would think that he is trying to savor every second of the kiss.

You make the mistake of letting yourself get lost in your thoughts. Suddenly, it’s not Billy kissing you anymore, it’s another man.

It’s his lips that you are kissing, his shoulders that you are touching, his ring that is digging into your waist, it’s him, it’s–

Billy. You are kissing Billy. You instantly pull away when the realization sinks back in, you push him away and pull back.

Billy chuckles, he looks at you through hooded eyes and leans closer, “that made me really fucking hard,” he whispers.

You scrunch your face up in disgust and turn away from him, wanting to escape him quickly. You glance at Steve, who is looking at the ground with an angry and powerless look on his face. Shit.

“Well, that was one hell of a kiss,” Tommy laughs, not looking at you, not looking at Billy but at Steve, he is looking at Steve and he is smirking.

“You must feel stupid, huh Harrington?”

“Shut up, Tommy.”

He pays you no mind, his attention is solely on Steve. And the others are staring at him as well. You can’t help but glance at Nancy, she’s looking at him with an almost pitiful look in her eyes.

You quickly reach for the bottle, wanting to kill the awkward tension in the room.

This night can’t get any worse. You think to yourself.

You spin the bottle as you inwardly curse at yourself for letting Carol convince you to join this stupid game. You didn’t even want to kiss anyone, let alone Billy. You didn’t want to upset Steve. You didn’t want to think about–

“Oh!” Carol laughs loudly, clapping her hands together.

Hailey snickers next to her, looking at you in amusement.

“Oh damn,” Tommy snorts.

Your heart begins to race in your chest but you don’t even know who it’s pointing at yet. You have a feeling who it is. And when you see the apologetic look in both Jonathan’s eyes and Heather’s eyes, you know.

You blink and take a deep breath before you glance at the bottle.

The bottle that is pointing right at him. Steve.

The girls around you are giggling, giving you smug looks. Carol is staring at you expectedly. Bitch.

Steve is staring at you already, suddenly, every ounce of anger has faded away. His eyes are wide, lips parted as he looks at you.

This isn’t ideal. This shouldn’t have to happen this way. But, he would be lying if he said that it’s something he doesn’t want. Maybe, this will be the last time. Maybe, this will be the only chance he gets to feel your kiss again.

“You don’t have to,” he whispers to you, but you are already moving closer to him.

You won’t walk away now. It’s exactly what they want, they want to see you running away. But you won’t run away, not now, not yet.

You ignore the pounding in your chest, the butterflies that dance in your stomach when you lean closer to him. He looks at you, wide eyed.

You don’t want it to happen this way but would you deny a kiss with him, right now? No.

“It’s just a kiss right?” You whisper as you gaze into his hazel eyes.

How could it ever be just a kiss?

You are the one to move even closer to him. You are the one to cup his cheeks.

Steve’s heart is surely about to explode.

He hates that this has to happen like this – that it’s caused by a game. That this isn’t supposed to mean anything.

Despite the others in the room, the loud music, the eyes on you. You both fade out everything around you.

It’s just you and him now.

You lean in, he leans in.

And for the first time in a long time, your lips brush against Steve’s and that is enough to set all your insides on fire. Just a simple touch.

You peck his lips, you only peck his lips and Steve is already in bliss. But then you smash your lips against his and suddenly, he is back in heaven. The light is shining again, the warmth is flooding back in, the sweetness of your lips is enough to mend his heart that he broke himself.

He doesn’t hesitate for a single second to kiss you back. He cups your cheeks and pulls you as closely as he can.

Everything around him stops existing.

All there is, is you and him.

He feels you, he feels your touch, your lips, your kiss.

He feels your love that is pouring back in.

He feels you.

You, you, you.

Everything falls back into place again.

Your lips are moving ever so softly with each other. Desperately but still passionately. Your lips still taste like cherry, his still taste minty.

His heart is racing, yours is too.

He holds you tightly but gently, he doesn’t want this moment to end, he doesn’t want to stop kissing you, he never wants to stop kissing you again.

This is right. This is what he is meant to do. This is all he’s ever dreamed of and more. He missed this. He missed you so much.

But the moment could never last long enough and he crashes back into reality when you pull away in need of air. Your lips part from his, your touch leaves his body and everything that is left behind is the kiss that lingers – the kiss that will linger for the rest of his life if this is the last one he gets from you.

His lips tingle and he fights the urge to touch them.

He doesn’t want to open his eyes, he doesn’t want to crash back into a world where you aren’t his anymore.

When he does open his eyes and he sees the look on your face, the shock in your eyes, the emotions that are still there, the love. He knows, he still has a chance.

He can still have you.

He can still fight for you.

He can still get you back.

But, for now, he lets you walk away when you make up some weak excuse and rush out of the room.

Heather doesn’t even hesitate to follow you out, calling your name and rushing after you. She passes by Argyle who is talking to a group of guys, she gives him an apologetic look.

You push past Jason Carver, pushing him out of the way.

“Hey!” He yells, “watch where you’re going!”

“Shut it, blondie,” Heather snaps at him.

You grab the leather jacket that you have left on the counter earlier and finally leave the house. The fresh air calms you down in an instant, you embrace the silence and feel grateful that there is no one out on the porch, right now.

No one except for you and Heather.

She shuts the door behind her, she crosses her arms over her chest when the chilly wind touches her bare arms.

“Are you okay?”

You lean against the railing and sigh.

“Yeah. You should go back inside, Heather.”

“No.”

She refuses to leave you alone when you’re upset.

“I’m okay.”

“But–”

You turn back around, “I’m okay,” you repeat, trying to smile at her.

“I promise, I just need a moment to myself after all of… this.”

“Are you sure?”

The sincere look in her eyes makes you smile, genuinely, this time.

You nod.

“But if you need anything, you tell me and I’ll take you home and we can have a girls night with Chrissy. Robin too.”

Your eyes soften.

“We should actually do that sometime.”

“We should.”

“Now go back inside, I’m sure your boyfriend misses you.”

She looks down and smiles, “alright..”

She turns back around, hesitantly.

“I can’t believe you used to kiss Billy all the time.”

Heather turns around to glare at you, “don’t ever mention that again.”

You giggle at the look on her face.

“I can’t believe that you kissed Billy and Steve in one night,” she smirks, winking at you before she walks back inside, leaving you by yourself.

“Right..”

You want to forget about the kiss, the one with Billy at least.

You reach for the pack of cigarettes in your pocket, walking over to the porch steps, you sit down and light a cigarette. You don’t smoke very often, only when you’re stressed.

You enjoy the silence, though, it doesn’t last very long. Someone steps out on the porch and you inwardly pray that it isn’t Steve or Billy.

The footsteps give it away, it’s neither of them.

You lift your head to look, it’s no friend of yours either.

It’s Nancy Wheeler standing in front of you – no, sitting down beside you.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

For a moment, you both sit in silence. You offer her a cigarette, to your surprise, she takes one and lights it up.

“So, did you start paying attention?”

You shake your head with a small smile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, sure you don’t,” Nancy chuckles.

You turn your body towards her, you lean back against the railing and look at her curiously.

Nancy crosses her legs and smokes the cigarette, giving you a tight lipped smile.

“Still oblivious, I see.”

You’re not fully oblivious. Not anymore.

“Y-You think that Eddie and I like each other.”

“No.”

You furrow your brows.

“I don’t think, I know.” She shrugs, “I guess, I just wonder why you and Eddie aren’t dating.”

You’re a little flustered by her words.

“Because he is my best friend?” You mumble as you stub out the cigarette and look down.

“Yeah, that’s what you already said, last time and it still doesn’t look like it.”

You give her a questioning look, you stare at her, and suddenly, she feels flustered.

“Why do you even care?”

Nancy hesitates, she looks down at the cigarette between her fingers. Her shoulders are slumped but she is still tense. Nancy pities Steve because she can see how much he is suffering, how much he loves you, how much he still wants you but she can’t deny that you have been in pain for so many months, some of the pain which has been caused by her. The least she can do is help you, help you understand, help you to see.

“I’m just, I’m sorry.”

She folds her hands in her lap after stubbing out the cigarette. She glances at you, almost shyly and with a hint of guilt in her blue eyes.

“What?”

She closes her eyes, she fidgets with her fingers and takes a deep breath before she opens her eyes again.

“For everything.”

Oh.

“I’m sorry for taking him away from you. I-I saw the way you two looked at each other back there. I guess, I just now realized what I’ve ruined.”

“It would’ve been someone else if it wasn’t you, Nancy.”

She furrows her brows, looking at you, almost bewildered.

“No, I don’t think so. He loves you.”

“Well, that realization came a little too late.”

“Did it?” Nancy asks, carefully.

You hesitate before you say ‘yes’.

She nods.

“But, why do you always bring Eddie up?”

“What?”

“You always talk about.. Eddie,” you frown, “do you want him now?”

The thought of it angers you. Does she always want what you have?

“Do you want Eddie now that you realized that Steve isn’t the prince you thought he was?”

Her eyes widen, “no! No, it’s not that! I-I just, I was jealous of you, not because of Eddie,” she says, shaking her head at the thought of Eddie. “I wanted what you two have.”

“A best friend?”

“That’s the thing.. I never thought you two were just… friends.”

You wait for her to continue.

“I wanted that hand holding in class, that cute bantering in the hallway, someone to lend me a shoulder whenever I need it, I wanted to be free like you were. Showing my love openly – and I found that in Jonathan. We started of as friends b-but that would have never been enough. He taught me about true love, about feeling cared for, and he waited for me. He waited and waited and I hurt him over and over by not breaking up with Steve.. Does that sound familiar?”

“Oh.”

By the look in your eyes, she knows that you begin to understand a little. Your eyes that soften when you think about him.

She opens her mouth, but she never gets to say the words she’s been meaning to say all night, because the man you have been talking about steps out. Interrupting your conversation.

Both you and Nancy turn to look at him.

He looks taken aback by the sight in front of him. He figured that you weren’t by yourself, he didn’t expect Nancy to be the one out here with you.

“Uh, can we talk y/n?” He asks, still looking between the two of you with a confused look on his face.

You and Nancy can’t help but share a look of amusement.

“Yeah, sure.”

Nancy pushes herself up with a sigh, she glances at you and gives you a small smile before she walks past Steve and walks back into the house.

Steve scratches the back of his neck, he stands there, awkwardly for a moment.

He still hasn’t told you about the break up but, he knows that you know. Everybody knows.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “are you?”

He walks towards you and you get back up on your feet, looking up at your ex boyfriend. Your ex boyfriend that you just kissed.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He asks.

You shrug, “you just kissed your ex girlfriend in front of your other ex girlfriend.”

His mouth set in a hard line before he looked away with a chuckle.

An amused huff escapes you. You try to walk around him but you trip and stumble, almost falling backwards but his large hands catch you, he wraps them around your waist and pulls you closer. This time you stumble forward, right into his chest.

He uses the opportunity to wrap his arms around you fully.

“Let’s not repeat your fall from years ago.”

You gape at him.

“Can’t you let it go?!”

His eyes crinkle with amusement.

“Fuck no, I’m not letting it go. I saved you and you panicked and pushed me down – I still have the scar on my hip from it!”

You roll your eyes, chuckling.

“What did you want to talk about?”

He doesn’t answer your question, instead, he takes your hand and leads you away from the entrance, away from the porch lights, away from the place where people can see you.

You don’t question him, you follow him, just the way you always did.

Behind the house, there is no light but the moon shining down on you. And Steve can’t help but want more of what he just had.

He whispers your name and you know, you know what he wants.

“Will you forgive me for what I’m about to do?”

“What–”

He cups your cheeks and leans down to kiss you. He needs more of what he just had.

You gasp against his lips but you so easily melt into the kiss.

And the moment you kiss him back, he wraps his arms around you and suddenly, his hands are all over you, your back, your waist, the back of your neck. He is pulling you in, closer and closer until there is no space left between the two of you.

You are kissing him. You are kissing him back. Not because of a game. You are kissing him because you want to kiss him. You want him.

His heart soars.

Everything inside of him screams in joy.

He needs you, he needs you closer and closer.

He kisses you desperately.

Your tongues meet and the kiss gets more feverish, more passionate than before. Maybe more passionate than ever.

You whimper into the kiss and he is sure that it’s enough to make his heart explode.

You kiss him just as desperately. You are needy, like him.

Warmth blossoms Steve’s chest. His heart is feeling whole for the first time in a long time.

You are both breathing heavily in between kisses. He can’t get enough of you. How could he ever get enough of you? How could he ever throw this away? How could he ever push you away?

His feelings, his emotions seem to get in the way – they seem to get in between the two of you because you can feel it, you can feel what he is thinking about.

Because you begin to feel it too. The more you open your heart to him, the more you let him in – the more it hurts. You curse at it, you curse at the pain and at the dark stain that he had left on your heart.

You savor the kiss, just like he does.

He savors it too. Your kiss isn’t a promise. Not even your love is.

He destroyed too much.

And though you don’t want it, you push him away and ignore the way you already miss him and the feeling of his lips on yours.

“W-What are you doing?” Your voice is shaky and your eyes are glossy. You look up at him with saddened eyes.

Steve’s hair is disheveled, his lips are puffy from the kissing.

And he looks defeated because the look on your face tells him that this won’t mean anything.

“I-I’m sorry.. but I-I just needed to do that, at least one last time.”

You frown at his words. Despite the seriousness of the situation, he can’t help but think that you look cute.

“You can’t just kiss me after everything!” You snap at him and push past him, walking away from him.

“Dolly!”

“No!”

next chapter

tagging mutuals

@mysticmunson @taintedcigs @corrodedseraphine @corrodedcorpses @wroteclassicaly @trashmouth-richie @succubusmunson @xxhellfirebunnyxx @take-everything-you-can @nemesis729 @sherrylyn628 @somethingvicked @chrissymjstan

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson angst #stranger things angst

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