#thought Lucas would try to be gentle with his own feelings too :')

[zharizard666]

[steddieas-shegoes]

bad idea right

for @steddiesongfics July prompt using song lyrics from ‘bad idea right’ by olivia rodrigo

rated e | 1569 words | cw: alcohol, super mildly dubious consent because of the alcohol | tags: angst with a happy ending, post break up, exes to lovers, getting back together, sex

📱📱📱📱📱📱📱📱📱📱

Eddie isn’t afraid to admit that he makes mistakes. Sometimes, he makes big ones.

Answering the call from Steve is the first big one.

“Steve?” It’s been almost a year since he’s heard from him, their breakup being the finite end to any and all communication. “You okay?”

“Eddie! Oh my god. So I’m out right now, and I’m all fucked up, and I was thinkin’ ‘bout that time I got so drunk you had to carry me to my bed.” Eddie’s listening to Steve, but he feels like his soul is leaving his body. “You remember how gentle you were? You were so worried about tripping up the stairs and you kept cussing when you lost your grip. You kissed my head when you thought I was asleep.”

Steve’s words are slurred, but Eddie can make them out fine. He was good at understanding Steve all the time, even inebriated.

“I knew you were awake,” he gulps. Robin’s gonna kill him for even entertaining Steve like this. Actually, speaking of her- “Is Robbie with you?”

“No.” Eddie can hear the pout on his lips. “She’s on a date with her girlfriend.”

Right. She’d mentioned that to Eddie yesterday when they were texting about plans for next weekend.

Robin had refused to be split between her two best friends when they broke up, and rightfully so. She may have been Steve’s platonic soulmate, but she knew that what happened between them wasn’t Eddie’s fault. She made sure to spend time with Eddie when Steve was otherwise busy.

“Are you good to get home? I can send an Uber for you.” Eddie offers even though he’s sure Steve thought of that already. Even drunk, he would know how to get home.

“I can get my own Uber.”

“I know.”

“I missed your voice.”

Eddie is doing his fuckin’ best not to make his second big mistake tonight, but it’s not going well. He knows what’s gonna happen. He knows because he’s weak and loves Steve more than anything even after having his heart torn to pieces by him. Even knowing it’ll only lead to more heartbreak.

“You should get home, Stevie.”

“Missed that, too.”

It’s quieter on Steve’s end now, like he’s stepped away from whatever club or bar he’s holed up in, maybe outside to get some much needed fresh air. Eddie hopes it sobers him enough to realize what he’s done so he hangs up.

“Steve…”

“Can I come over?”

Eddie makes the second big mistake of the night and says yes.

-

When Steve arrives, he’s a beautiful mess.

He’s drunk, but the ride must’ve helped a little. His eyes are clear, his cheeks not as flush as they probably were before.

Eddie’s waiting at the door when he gets there, standing with a smile that doesn’t belong. He’s trying to be welcoming to a man who did everything to make sure he felt like he didn’t belong.

Steve is in his arms as soon as he makes it to the front door. Eddie’s third big mistake of the night is wrapping his arms around him as if he’d never stopped, as if this last year wasn’t the worst of his life and he’s barely made it through.

“Sorry I called. I didn’t know where to go.”

And now Eddie’s confused. He’s confused because Steve has an apartment of his own, one that he definitely knew how to get to even when drunk. Even if he didn’t, he would’ve been able to call Robin to help. Or Max. Or Lucas.

And he’s sure that Steve’s been drunk in the last year and not called him.

“Why couldn’t you go home?”

“Too quiet.”

11 months ago, almost to the day, Steve Harrington told Eddie Munson that he was too loud, too hyper, too messy.

11 months ago, Eddie Munson gathered whatever he could find in four minutes and left Steve’s apartment for the last time.

11 months ago, Steve ruined a three year relationship because he’d been feeling overwhelmed and didn’t tell Eddie until it was too late.

Now, Eddie Munson is sure that Steve Harrington is about to be his fourth big mistake tonight.

“You wanna come in?” He asks, already knowing Steve’s answer.

“Please.”

-

Steve is tucked into Eddie’s bed, curled around a pillow, mouth open as he snores quietly. Eddie watches him for a moment before tip-toeing from the room.

Robin’s livid when she answers her phone.

“This better be good. I was two fingers-“

“Steve’s here.” Eddie interrupts what was sure to be too much information about what Robin was getting up to on her date. “Drunk.”

“He just showed up at your house?” Robin sounds less mad now, more concerned, though he’s not sure who she’s more concerned about.

“He called first.”

“And you answered.”

“Yeah. Well.” Eddie sighs. “I’m gonna sleep on the couch, but just wanted you to know he’s safe and I’ll make sure he gets home tomorrow.”

“Eddie, I’m so sorry. He said he was just gonna watch a movie tonight or else I would’ve suggested he go hang with Dustin or something.”

“It’s not your job to babysit him.” Eddie doesn’t like the way she said that, but he’s probably reading too much into it. “He’s an adult.”

“Yeah, no. He’s. I mean, he’s fine. It’s just that we all try to keep his mind busy since…ya know.” Robin explains, though Eddie feels even more confused.

“Since he specifically told me I was too much for him?”

Robin’s silence speaks volumes.

“Eddie?” Steve’s voice is behind him and he’s quick to turn and make sure he’s okay. “Sleep?”

“I’ll text you,” he whispers to Robin before hanging up and turning to Steve. “You should go lay down. I’ll bring you some water.”

“You too?” Steve was blinking slowly, barely awake as he stood in Eddie’s living room.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Stevie.”

“Is it because of what I said?”

It’s not the time for them to have this conversation, and it’s not the time for Eddie to wish he could forget it ever happened so he can hop into bed with Steve. But he thinks Steve is probably sobering up little by little, and if he expects Steve to sleep, he may have to do this.

“You made it very clear how you felt. I’m just trying to respect your space until I can get you home tomorrow.” Robin would be proud of how he’s handling this, he thinks. He’s at least keeping things civil even though his head is screaming at him.

“I didn’t mean what I said.”

Eddie stares at him, tries to find the telltale signs of Steve lying. He doesn’t see any.

Steve’s too tired and too buzzed to hide it.

“Then why did you say any of it?” Eddie feels his chest constricting, his heartbeat racing the longer he looks at him. “Why did you make me think I was too much?”

“My dad came by that day,” Steve’s head falls, his hands wringing in front of him. “My dad had spent two hours telling me I wasn’t enough and that I’d done nothing but disappoint him and I’d never be what he wanted. And it wasn’t the first time, but it was after my boss gave a promotion to someone else even though I was more qualified and my head was killing me and Robin and I had gotten into a stupid argument that morning and it was a bad day.”

Eddie’s staring at him, mouth wide open, watching as the man he loves falls apart.

“It’s no excuse. I shouldn’t’ve said any of it no matter what. Not when it’s not even true. I’ve never felt like you’re too much or too loud.” Steve’s stepping closer now. “I’ve always just wanted to soak up whatever energy you have. And I didn’t know how to tell you that you’re more than I deserve without saying you’re too much for what I can offer.”

Damn Steve Harrington and his charm, even when buzzed, even when exhaustion is causing him to curl into himself.

Damn Eddie’s inability to avoid his fifth mistake of the night.

He doesn’t know if he is the catalyst or if they both are, but suddenly his mouth is on Steve’s and teeth knock together, and there’s a slight taste of blood on Eddie’s tongue.

There’s moans and hands against skin and in hair and hard cocks rubbing against thighs and bruises on hips.

There’s Steve’s head hitting the pillow and Eddie’s mouth sucking marks into his stomach and inner thigh and the blanket falling off the bed as they try to strip out of their clothes too fast.

There’s laughter and soft touches and nails biting into skin and check-ins.

There’s love when Eddie holds his face in his hands as he slides into Steve for the first time in too long, and there’s hope when Steve cries out for more, and there’s passion that Eddie knows he’d never find with anyone else.

After, when there’s sweat and tears and cum and an unfortunate wet spot in the middle of the bed, there’s whispers of tomorrow and the next day and apologies and promises.

It may have been a bad idea answering Steve’s call, but Eddie’s happy to make more mistakes if it means keeping Steve in his arms and being enough for each other.

[strangersteddierthings]

Pumpkin Carving (A Halloween One Shot)

Pumpkin carving and a sleepover. An excuse for everyone to gather together on Halloween now that the Party has decided they're too old to trick-or-treat.

A pumpkin carving station has been set up in the Harrington's giant three car garage. Steve did debate setting it all up in the yard, less cleanup of the pumpkin insides that way, but it was pretty chilly, and Steve wasn't sure how long they'd all take to do the actual carving.

Does pumpkin carving take long?

Steve's never carved a pumpkin so he wouldn't know. There is no universe in which his mother would have allowed a pumpkin in her house, much less under the circumstance of then cutting it open and freeing it of its insides. While Steve has never participated in the act of carving a pumpkin, he knows how it goes. Hypothetically.

He'd needed to know enough to gather all the supplies after all, so a quick call to Robin (along with some gentle teasing and mocking) and he was set.

Eddie arrives first, having been volunteered to go get the pumpkins from the patch. It's not that Steve is scared of the pumpkin patch, or anything, it's just that Eddie's van would be better for transporting them.

Steve tried to offer to unload them, insisting it was only fair since Eddie had to load them, but Eddie just rolls his eyes and gets to work. It's not that pumpkins are extra heavy, but they aren't exactly light. And Steve knows that Eddie thinks Steve doesn't want his help because of how long it took Eddie to heal, but that's not the reason. Steve just...

Steve's just drawn to watching instead of helping when Eddie grabs a pumpkin under each arm, muscles flexing as he tightens his hold enough to keep them trapped between his arms and his sides and now Steve's left wishing, wistfully and not for the first time, that it was his thighs Eddie was wrapping those arms around. That it was him Eddie was hoisting up, perhaps holding against a wall and-

"Am I going to do all the loading and unloading?" Eddie bursts his thoughts by knocking their shoulders together as he passes by, already on his second round of pumpkin unloading.

"What, no, sorry," Steve turns to grab two pumpkins of his own. It's quick work with the two of them, then, to unload, and a short wait for everyone to start showing up.

Some biked, others dropped off by parents. Steve walks out to each car to chat and confirm that yes, of course they can stay the night; they won't be a bother and I'll keep them out of trouble.

Soon enough the garage is full of people, pumpkins, and noise. Lucas and Max have migrated to the corner of the garage closest to the door leading inside to whisper together as Lucas guts two pumpkins while Max describes what she wants on hers. Will and Mike have also set themselves apart to work out whatever it is they plan to carve on their own pumpkins. Dustin, El, Erica, and Eddie have plopped down in the center and just got to work. They aren't coordinating their pumpkins like the couples seem to be doing. They do seem to be taking it the most serious, though, with the absolute silence from all of them, concentration faces fully on.

Steve is off on his own, too. He's taken a seat about five feet from Eddie but he's the furthest from the door. He frowns down at his pumpkin, suddenly feeling embarrassed. He's not sure how to start. What to do.

He looks up from his pumpkin and over to Eddie. He's using a knife to saw around the stem of the pumpkin. Which, duh. Steve should have put that together. There has to be some way to remove the insides easily, so removing the top made sense.

Without trying to overthink it all, Steve stabs into the top of his pumpkin and starts sawing his own circle around the top. It's. Well, it's something. He wouldn't say sawing a circle is fun but it's not tedious and soon enough his knife returns to the starting point and... Hmm. He watches as the bit he just cut around sags into his pumpkin. Eddie's didn't do that.

Steve frowns down at it for a moment before grabbing the stem and pulling the top off. His face wrinkles in disgust at the stringy clump of pumpkin insides that hang from the top and he sets that down to the side quickly. He's realizing now why everyone else chose to wear short sleeves even though it's cold outside as he looks around the garage and sees everyone shoving their hands into the pumpkin, pulling stringy, seedy, strands of pumpkin out.

With a sigh, Steve rolls a sleeve up and plunges his own hand into the holes he's made and almost instantly rips his hand back out. Ew. No. Gross! Wrong! The feeling of the strands breaking under the pressure of his hand, the slightly moist feeling of the inside, the unexpected slipperiness of the seeds, all of it sends a shiver of revulsion up Steve's spine. He makes a soft gagging noise against his own will.

"You gonna be sick?" Eddie asks almost immediately.

"Uh. Oh, yeah," Steve says as he feels his face heat with an embarrassed blush. He can see that all eyes are on him now, which adds to his embarrassment on top of realizing the question he was asked and what he answered. "Wait, I mean no. I'm not going to be sick."

Eddie looks from Steve to his pumpkin, and back up. "Don't like the feeling of pumpkin guts?"

"It was just unexpected is all," Steve defends, even as the thought of sticking his hands back into the pumpkin sends another shiver through him.

"Unexpected," Dustin repeats back. Steve tenses but nothing else follows that. He looks over and Dustin seems to be having a silent conversation with Eddie judging by the stare down.

"Maybe I am gonna be sick," Steve lies, standing quickly and fleeing the garage.

God fucking dammit. Why is he so embarrassed about this? Why is he... he's hiding the fact he's never done this before, and he doesn't know why. They aren't going to mock him for it. Well. Maybe a little, but in the same way Robin did. Tease him because they love him. They wouldn't really be making fun of him. Except maybe Mike but Steve doesn't really care about his opinion anyway. Gave up on that a while ago.

He goes to the kitchen sink on autopilot, scrubbing the gross, now dried and tacky feeling from his hand. He's in the process of drying his hands when a voice startles him.

"Hey man. You okay?"

It's Eddie. Of course, it's Eddie they would send after him.

"Yeah," he turns so his back is to the sink, leaning back against it to look at Eddie.

"You never have to scoop out a pumpkin before? Did someone else do it for you?"

If anyone else had asked, Steve would think it was condescending. Someone mockingly asking after nannies or servants who would do the gross part of pumpkin carving for the little rich kid. But it's Eddie, and he's just curious and sincere. So, Steve says, "nah, man. Just never done this before."

Eddie's browse crinkle in confusion and Steve thinks he's so fucking cute. He wants to kiss the confusion from his brow. "You've never carved a pumpkin before?"

Steve just gives a shake of his head before shrugging. He wants to cross his arms, close in on himself, but it's Eddie. He's trying to not shy away from the people he cares about. He's trying to let them take care of him, too.

(It's been a process, since the defeat of Vecna. Learning to let people care about him. He's better at it these days. Robin said so and if anyone is an expert on him, it's her. He can't always trust his own opinion to be unbiased.)

"I'll scoop out your pumpkin if you still want to give pumpkin carving a try," Eddie offers, a soft, lopsided smile on his face that Steve adores. The bats took a good chunk of his left cheek, and the scarring is heavy, the muscles non-responsive, so every smile is lopsided, but Steve loves them all.

"Okay," Steve says, offering a soft smile in return but doesn't push off the sink. Not until Eddie approaches, taking Steve's wrist and tugging him along.

No one says anything when they return to the garage, nor when Eddie blows past his own pumpkin to sit next to Steve and grab up his pumpkin. Eddie looks down at the hole Steve's carved, a calculated look on his face. It's cleared away soon enough when he smiles as wide as his scarred cheek allows before he gets to work on the pumpkin. He cleans it out thoroughly before handing it back to Steve, then crawls across the floor to retrieve his own abandoned pumpkin, rolling it across the floor as he crawls back.

"Oh, wait. Can you go get me a marker?" Eddie asks, as Steve is examining his pumpkin, trying to imagine a face to go on it.

"Yeah," Steve says, glad to have a moment more to think about the face as he fetches a marker from his father's office.

He returns to most of the kids having already finished their own pumpkins. Unsurprising, considering how much time Steve spent just thinking about carving before he even started.

"Marker," Steve offers it out after he's sat down again, close enough that his knee is touching Eddie's this time.

"Thanks," Eddie takes the marker and adjusts so more of his leg is pressing against Steve's. "So, you can freehand the face if you want, or I could draw you a face to cut out? If you want."

"Oh. Uh, yeah. Yeah, sure," Steve says, shoving his pumpkin towards Eddie who looks delighted by Steve's answer. It doesn't take him long to draw on a face. Triangle eyes, a little rectangle nose, and a wide mouth filled with jagged teeth.

Steve and Eddie carve in quiet, while Steve basks in the warmth of Eddie's leg next to his, touching his. He's never been sure if Eddie likes him back, not enough to announce his own crush, but sometimes... There are times like this that fill him with hope.

Steve doesn't even realize they've been abandoned to the garage until Eddie finishes his pumpkin, which is three bats carved artistically into the side. Steve is impressed, and when he turns to ask if anyone else is, there isn't anyone there.

"Oh. I didn't even hear them leave."

Eddie plops the top of his pumpkin back on, which reminds Steve he needs to do the same. He reaches for his top but Eddie beats him to it, craving the gross mass of sides that was stuck to it off before handing it over it.

Steve sets the top back on the pumpkin, and it immediately drops into the pumpkin. "What. Why did it-?"

"You gotta cut the top into an odd shape or at an angle. Otherwise, that happens. But it's okay. You didn't know, and I know how to fix it. You got some toothpicks in your house?" Eddie says, assuring Steve before he even has time to overthink it.

Can Steve be any more in love with him at this point?

"What?" Eddie whispers, eyes wide and face slowly turning red.

"What?"

"You just... you, uhh. Did you not mean to say that out loud?"

"Say wha- oh God," Steve registers what he'd thought, or apparently, what he said and now he and Eddie are just staring at each other, wide-eyed and unmoving.

"I'm not going to question if you meant it," Eddie starts slowly, clearly the more brave one of the two, "just. I need to know if you mean it, like, romantically."

"I did. Do. I-" Steve can be brave, too. He can. "I do love you. Romantically."

"Holy shit. I want to pull you in and kiss you so bad but my hands are covered in pumpkin guts and-"

Steve does it for him, both hands grabbing at his face and pulling him in.

His first time carving a pumpkin ends up being fantastic, even counting the kids flooding back into the garage to scream 'finally' at them.

-

@i-less-than-three-you @nburkhardt @afewproblems

[sleepyeye17]

Is this yours?

Words: 768

Warnings: None

Summary: There’s a bra in Steve’s back seat. He has some explaining to do.

“What’s this?” Lucas says in the back seat of Steve’s car. “Ooooooh it’s a bra!”

Steve looks in the rear view mirror and his eyes go wide.

“Shit.”

Eddie turns around in the front seat to see Lucas holding up an enormous bra. It takes a moment for the implication to hit, and then it punches him right in the nuts. Fuck.

“Don’t touch that, Lucas,” Steve growls. 

“Steve had a girl back here,” Dustin crows. 

“I did not!” Steve says. “Put that down!”

“This is huge,” Max says, grabbing the bra from Lucas and feeling the enormous padded cups. “Jesus what is this, an F cup?”

“Who’s the lucky lady?” Lucas asks. 

“Who do we know with enormous tits?” Max says. She holds it up to herself. “Dustin, is this your mom’s? Ow!”

They’re all laughing and smacking each other and shrieking. Eddie looks out the window and tries to put on his most aloof face.

Steve and Eddie have only been hooking up for a few weeks, and neither of them have said that they were exclusive. If Eddie had assumed, well, that's on him. Always the idiot, and matters of the heart are no exception. He fell in love with Steve like it was breathing. He should have known that King Steve would have a whole flock of women to choose from. Eddie is clearly just an experiment. It wouldn’t be the first time. He’s had a few partners in the past who believed that they could be with a man once and get it out of their system. Eddie is usually happy to oblige. But he really thought that this was different.

“Settle down back there, okay?” Steve says. He’s bright red, and clearly irritated. “It got mixed up in my laundry at the laundromat. Jesus, get your minds out of the gutter.”

The kids calm down a little bit, and they’re friends again by the time Steve pulls into the arcade. Eddie is about to follow them out of the car, but Steve reaches out and touches his arm.

“Wait, Eddie. Can we talk?”

“Sure. Whatever.”

Eddie looks wary as he sits back down. He sneaks a glance at Steve, who’s still bright red. Eddie knows that Steve does his laundry at his parents’ house, and the bra is clearly too large for Steve’s mother.

“I can explain–” Steve starts, but Eddie cuts him off.

“You don’t have to.”

“I didn’t–”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Steve looks surprised and almost a little hurt.

“Doesn’t it?”

Eddie shrugs.

“We never said we were exclusive.”

Now Steve definitely looks hurt.

“I thought– Well. No. I guess we never did. Have you–” 

“If you have another–”

“I don’t–”

“I just want to know–”

“I don’t!”

“--so I can get tested–”

“The bra is mine!”

That stuns Eddie into silence. He stares at Steve for a second, but Steve can’t meet his eyes. Steve is looking at the ceiling, biting his lip and blinking fast. His fingers drum on the steering wheel.

“Sorry, what?” Eddie asks.

“I’m not– It’s just a thing. It’s just something I do on some weekends. There are these performances. Like shows. On the first Saturday of the month, in Indy.”

“Do you…” Eddie is trying to wrap his mind around this. “Are you a… A woman? In your heart?”

Steve shakes his head fast.

“I don’t think so? I’ve thought about it, and I’ve talked to some people. I still like being a guy, and I like my body and I feel good as a man. But sometimes… I dunno. I just want to be…” Steve gestures vaguely.

“A queen,” Eddie finishes.

“Yeah.” Steve sniffs hard. “I’m sorry. If this is too much–”

Eddie lets out a surprised little giggle, then covers his mouth. Steve looks miserable.

“Sorry!” Eddie says. “I’m not laughing at you. It’s just… God, Steve, you really couldn’t be more perfect.”

“Don’t fuck with me,” Steve snaps.

“I’m not! I’m not, I swear. I thought you were seeing someone else! Fuck, man, this is better than my wildest fantasies.” 

“Really?” Steve has a gentle look of hopeful surprise on his face that’s so open and vulnerable it makes Eddie want to bite his own fist. 

“Yes, really. What’s your name, then?”

“What?”

“Your drag name.”

Steve smiles shyly and bites a fingernail. Eddie wants to cry, he’s so pretty.

“It’s still in progress, okay. So you can’t laugh.”

“Okay.”

“Connie Cushion.”

Eddie gasps like Steve just dropped to one knee and proposed.

“Concussion!?” 

“Connie Cushion, yeah.”

“Can I… meet her some time?”

Steve bows his head, rubbing the back of his neck and beaming.

“She’d like that.”

[notjustjavierpena]

House

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: A few ideas poured into one. Thank you for all of the attention Hubby Javier is getting lately, makes me all teary-eyed.

Summary: Baby kicks and house-shopping, is there anything else to say?

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no y/n)

Tags: +15, Pregnancy, domestic married, idiots in love, making out

Word count: 1.7k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51723856

House

There’s a low hum coming from the radio in the kitchen. You’re on your back underneath white soft sheets that have warmed up to feel like a hug, drifting in and out of sleep to the soft pop song and a noise of mugs clinking.

It’s early morning and you have yet to get out of bed. Javier is doing his morning ritual, and it causes even the annoying ding of the toaster and the drip of the coffee maker to make you smile. The very sound of his existence outside of your own little bubble is proof that he isn’t just a figment of your imagination, that things are actually as good as they see, and the fact makes your eyes shut and your sleep more undisturbed than it’s ever been.

He wakes you half an hour later, gentle as ever.

“I’m heading to work, baby, Lord knows what messes I have to clean up today,” Javier says and bends down to kiss your forehead. He runs a hand over your hair which you say is way too greasy for him to do. He smiles, tuts, and heads towards the door. 

“Don’t forget we have that thing later,” you call after him as he exits the bedroom. You look after him despite him already being out of sight, awaiting his answer that will probably consist of him profusely apologizing for forgetting but you interrupt yourself by gasping out loud. You call for him a little louder.

“You okay?” Javier stands in the doorway not a second later. He has furrowed his brow. 

“Come here,” you hold out your hand with a grin. When Javier takes it, you guide his palm down to your just-starting-to-show pregnant belly.

“Is he kicking?” He asks with a voice that is a little more squeaky than normal. He doesn’t move his hand, doesn’t seem to dare in case he’ll miss it, and doesn’t get to say hello for the first time. 

“I swear if he gets your sleeping schedule and starts waking up around this time from now on,” you groan but Javier seems too transfixed to laugh at your joke. He kneels down on the floor, watching and waiting expectantly. 

“Talk to him,” you instruct, arching your back slightly to push your belly further into your husband’s hand, “He’ll react to your voice. I promise.”

Javier checks his watch on his other hand but he doesn’t show signs of being in a hurry. He rubs your stomach a little, kisses your skin, “Come on, bebito. Your dad needs to go fight villanos for the state.”

You giggle at the way he speaks so softly, switching to the same pitch that one would address a puppy with. He looks at you with red cheeks and you just want to kiss him, “Stop laughing.”

“Sorry, I just love you,” you continue your tiny giggles, not trying to stop them from bubbling up in your throat, “I’ll stay still. Just don’t give up.”

It takes a few more minutes before you feel Lucas move again. Your stomach jumps underneath Javier’s hand and the move surprises him to the point where he nearly falls on his ass, another laugh erupting from your chest. 

“Was that him?” He gapes at you and you nod. He quickly regains his composure to feel for more kicks. His eyes have lightened up and the smile he is sporting is pure joy mixed with disbelief, “That’s so badass…”

A few moments pass. Javier gets excited again, thoughts of work forgotten, “There! Again!”

“He loves you, baby,” you say, “He’s saying hello.”

“I can’t wait until he’s here,” he admits and whispers hello back to his son, resting his cheek against your belly whilst looking up at your face. He smiles as you run a hand over his hair, “I love you two too. Should I just stay here all day?”

“As nice as that sounds, we have that thing later,” you say, “The house tour.”

“Shit,” he says as predicted.

“You better be there, Peña. Your son needs that backyard,” you try to sound stern but Lucas kicks once more. You chuckle happily instead, and in the next moment, you don’t know if you are referring to Lucas or his father because Javier’s eyes practically sparkle, “Well someone’s excited.”

Javier had brought up the idea of a house the second you arrived home from your honeymoon along with a confession of having looked at possible sellers in the area since you got engaged. However, the idea had faded, had been put on hold due to everyday life getting in the way until now. Fulfilling the fantasy has become a reality since you found out that you are pregnant.

Now it has also been put into motion.

It’s the first house that you are seeing together. You went last week, fell in love with the place, and now, you want Javier’s opinion (and approval). Even though the house doesn’t have the same charm as your shared apartment, and despite the apartment space holding so many memories that you cherish, you know your current living situation won’t suit a growing family. 

“Right, I’ll be there,” he kisses your belly repeatedly, “I’ll see you later, mijo.”

“Go,” you usher him gently, “We’ll be here when you get back too.”

“Te amo, momma,” Javier says before he leaves your side, his voice so genuine you might slide underneath the covers because you can barely contain your happiness without giggling like a schoolgirl. 

“Te amo también,” you say back and then lay back to hear the sound of the front door closing. 

You use the rest of the morning to snooze and have a one-sided conversation with your unborn child, only getting out of bed when you cannot procrastinate anymore or you’ll be late. You wash your greasy hair twice in the shower and snack instead of eating a proper meal, scared that you will experience a fit of nausea during the house tour. Despite having a fair reason, you don’t think that vomiting in the bathroom of the house you are considering buying will go well with the seller. Javier would probably make a joke about marking your territory whilst stroking your back to make you stop crying.

Though later that day when you enter the house that you have already seen and daydreamed about, you immediately notice the crinkle of Javier’s nose at the mention of the rooms. Kitchen, bathroom, dining area. Smile. Three bedrooms. Nose crinkle. 

The realtor seems to notice it too, and she gives you a sympathetic look and touches your shoulder gently. You don’t flinch because she seems genuine and nice, “Why don’t I give you two some privacy? You’ll be able to look around without me hovering over your shoulder and without me making you hold back any negative comments.”

Javier hums, already wandering around and seeming lost in his own thoughts.

“That’d be great, thanks,” you smile and chase your husband down as she leaves. You find him running his knuckles over the kitchen counter, knocking once as if he has a clue about the material. It’s almost sweet the way that he is practicing his dad-mannerisms already. 

“You don’t like it,” you say matter-of-factly.

Javier whips around at hearing your voice, “What? No, I like it. It’s just—“

“Just what?” You join him by the counter, leaning against it. 

“There are only three bedrooms,” he notes as if it’s the most logical explanation in the world. 

You raise a brow and lay a hand on your protruding belly, “You do know there���s only one baby in here, right? It’s not like I’m about to give you a barbershop quartet.”

Javier laughs genuinely at the mental image. He moves to stand in front of you, reaching to hold your pregnant belly and rubbing its sides gently. He can see the disappointment in your eyes which makes him tut and you pout. 

“I’m just thinking ahead here, mi vida,” he rests his forehead against yours, chuckling at the sight of you pushing out your bottom lip. He rubs a soothing circle into your stomach with his thumb, and brushes a strand of hair from your face with his other hand, “Don’t pout. You know I’m weak.”

“You don’t love it the way I do,” you squeak out, “And this is within our price range.”

“We’ll borrow money from my Pop, hell, he’ll pawn his whole house for us,” he reaches up to cup your face in both his hands, tilting back your head so he can repeatedly peck your lips, “And no, I don’t love it the way you do.”

You reach for one of his wrists, offended. 

“But,” he interrupts before you can protest, “If we’re having at least three kids then we’re already a bedroom short.”

“Three?!” You say in a horrified tone.

“Eventually,” he soothes.

“That’s almost a whole litter, Javi.”

“Well, you don’t have to drop them all at once,” he jokes, pauses, and then continues, “I’m just asking you to keep our options open with me.”

“But this kitchen,” you whine, gesturing to the farmhouse sink that you’ve fallen so deeply in love with, “I wanna do the dishes here and I hate doing the dishes.”

“I’ll build you your own kitchen, baby, with a rich-people-sink and a dishwasher,” he presses his thumbs into the underside of your jaw, “How’s that sound? Bién, no?”

You half-frown, half-smile. It does sound nice.

“There it is,” he says as you finally smile fully and allow a new daydream to manifest in your mind, “That’s my girl.” 

A few long seconds pass with kissing him in a house that won’t be yours after all, arms slung around his neck, and standing on your toes as you make out. God, you love the confidence that Javier radiates. Suddenly everything seems possible. 

“Besides,” Javier pulls back a little, mischievous, ”Did you see that backyard? A soccer team has 11 players, you know, and with the way Lucas is kicking…”

“You better stop that talk right now if you ever wanna get with me again, Mister,” you answer but then you kiss him again.

“I’ll tell the realtor that we want something bigger,” he takes a step back but you grab his arm. He allows you to pull him back in.

“I need a hug. Just five more minutes,” you beg.

And so he does, holding you tightly in an embrace that is pouring with love.

“Okay, five more minutes.”

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[atinylittlepain]

Chapter Three

no-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!oc

series masterlist

series playlist

warnings: dark themes surrounding history of domestic violence, references to physical injury, heavy emotions (hope can also be heavy)

a/n: all i have to say is thank you for reading, and i'd love to hear what you think

...............................

If I could go

Baby where you go

If i could know

Baby what you know

Then I could see

Baby what you see

Baby Where You Are - Ted Lucas

.................................

Dolores isn’t Dolores anymore. It hadn’t been on purpose. Something Joel had found himself calling her, something that she didn’t rebuke or reject. Something that fit, all her flight and fret, the fragile flinch of her feathers. Get too close, and watch her flee, winged reaction. Give her space, and watch grace move, gentle as she can be, kind as she can be. A new name that still somehow fit. It had slipped out around town a few times, enough for it to catch. 

“Thanks, Dove. Why don’t you come by the shop this afternoon? Got a coat in that should be about your size, and you’re gonna need one pretty soon.” Patty is right. Fall is coming in with a sharp tooth this year. The wind picking up, blowing in bite. Mountains turning over in a blaze of death, everything starting to crisp and singe orange and yellow around the edges. But not time for coats yet. Sweaters, sure. But a coat would mean staying, long enough at least to see another season settle. Joel tries not to watch her reaction to Patty’s words too closely, a feigned yawn, a glance over his shoulder out the windows of the diner. 

“Okay, that’d be great, thank you.” Patty takes her lunch to go, a murmured greeting and goodbye to Joel as she lets her hip lead her out the door, a tip of his brow in reply. 

“Would that be alright?” A beat for him to realize that she’s asking him. Less of this lately, all the extra, unneeded thank yous, the careful permission asked after. But still, sometimes, her feathers pluming between the bars of a cage he wishes she’d step out of entirely. 

“Of course, don’t have to ask that. Reckon I oughta pick up a few things myself.” The truth is, all his jeans are fitting tighter. A little fuller lately, a little warmer. Because she can cook, and she likes to, full, warm things that turn the windows sweet with syrupy fog in the evenings. When he first came out here, he lost weight, new notches in his belt to keep his pants up until Patty forced a few new pairs into his hands. No other body to watch after, out for, no concern for three square anything all on his own. But now, breakfast every morning and dinner every night, still trying to keep his knees from brushing against hers under the table, even in the evening’s satisfied slump. And lunch at the diner, whenever he can, always a few fries on the side that he didn’t order. So yeah, lately the zipper is a battle, and the button is a negotiation, and it feels pretty good, like presence. 

She hands him his check, quick lightning in the pass of fingertips, a brush that doesn’t make her flinch. Thoughts he shouldn’t be having, a feel for something he shouldn’t be wanting, he clears his throat, once, twice, napkin held to his mouth should any words try to slip out. 

“What time is the vet coming?” Soon, he thinks, already taking time he doesn’t have, a sigh as he stands from his seat.

“One, he’s always a little late though.” He’s not, but saying it smooths the crease of worry between her brows. Worry, she’s worried about the damn sheep. He thinks she might like the sheep more than she likes him. More comfort with them, at least. It’s not a him thing, though. It’s a people thing. He can understand that, for reasons of his own. After all, he was the one that bought the sheep in the first place. 

“You’ll tell me what he says?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I just, you know, have a feeling.” She says it with a shrug, her words twisting up into a smile at the end. She’s had a feeling for the last week about two of the girls. Avril and Lucy, she had told him over breakfast one morning, just a feeling. He had asked how, half a smile, how. And she had given him a shrug not unlike the one she just rolled her shoulders in. Just a feeling. 

“We’ll see what he says. Still don’t know where you’re getting that feeling from. They all look the same to me.” She scoffs, nose scrunching up as she hands him back change that he’s already planning to tuck into the tip jar when her back is turned. 

“It’s not a look, Joel. It’s just a feeling.” 

“Yeah, alright, whatever you say. Tell you what, if you’re right, I owe you that coat Patty’s holding for you.” He was half-expecting her reaction, complete exasperation in her sigh, where once there was worry, a well-worn routine that has softened around the edges.

“You’re not buying that coat for me.”

“Well, not if that feeling of yours is wrong I’m not.” 

“And what do you get if I’m wrong?” Nothing, he doesn’t want anything. He can’t want anything, not from her. 

“I’ll think of something. But you seem pretty sure that you’re right.” Flustered, he thinks, all flap and flutter as her smile slants, turning away with a wave of her hand, forget it, to get back to work. Sure in herself, and in him too. That he’ll be back a little after four, that they’ll stop by Patty’s place on the way home, that they’ll go home, that there is home. No catch, she has finally learned. Settling into no catch.

The vet hasn’t shown up yet by the time Joel returns to the house, nothing to do but wait. There’s a stack of books on the coffee table in the living room. She’s going to have run right through the library’s stock at the clipped rate she’s currently going. There’s been many a morning that he’s found her in the same position he said goodnight to her in, perched in the corner of the couch, all tucked in on herself, a book in her hands near finished where she had only just started it the night before. 

How quickly people’s ghosts take up residence in a space. All the evidence of absence, and the promise of it being filled up again, soon. Her sweater hanging on the hook by the door, her boots settled and slumped next to his, two coffee mugs drying next to the sink. 

How quickly he must remind himself that all of this will end, eventually. That she will leave, and he will let her, and he will be happy for her. Help, and nothing more. Care, however temporary it may be. But for now, the promise of a new coat, and with it, another season. For now, she’s staying.

…

“Well?”

“Nice to see you too.” 

“Joel.” He can’t help himself, leaning back in the driver’s seat, letting her huff at him, just a little puff of impatience. 

“You were right.” 

“Both of them?”

“Yes, ma’am. He couldn’t tell how many, but twins are pretty–”

“Oh wow.” A whispered thing, a wondered thing, one of her palms pressed over the center of her sternum like she can feel it there. And suddenly, he feels it too. 

“So when are they– when will they be here?” It’s a particular way to ask it, a bit strange, steeped in that same awe.

“Vet said sometime around January, so we’ll certainly have our work cut out for us.” It’s a leap, one that makes his stomach lurch as he says it, knowing exactly what he’s doing. Feeling around in the dark, trying to find where the ending is. 

“Oh wow.” Just that again, curling at the edges with her smile, an answer in and of itself. Or at least he hopes. 

“Suppose I owe you that coat now.” She snorts, a sound that would be ugly coming from anyone else, though it only feels like a relief coming from her, shaking her head at him. 

“Oh please, I can pay for that coat just fine. Someone left an annoyingly large tip for me today.” He threatens a smile, keeping tight-lipped to stop its spread as she looks at him, brow raised, knowing and known. A selfish thought he has had, that those tips he is leaving inch her closer to leaving much faster than he’d like her to, though he hasn’t let that idea fester into any action. 

“That right?”

“Mmhmm.”

“I wonder who it was.” 

“Me too. Anyways, shouldn’t I get to decide what I get for being right?” New, a little bold maybe, her elbow propped up on the passenger side door, knuckles steepled at her temple, ease, space. 

“I guess I can’t argue with that. What do you want?” It’s gone just as fast, and he knows he made a mistake with that question, the quick configuration of her body recollecting itself, hands in her lap, wilting like a flower, all too much. Want isn’t allowed, want isn’t something she lets herself admit to. Always a production when she asks if they can stop by the library, like she’s getting away with something she shouldn’t be, shy and secret. Always waiting for him to start eating first, and always him resisting the urge to say something about that, a cool prickle threading through his skull, because he knows where that comes from. And what could he say that wouldn’t make shame well up? Unmerited shame, undeserved, but he knows her now, and knows that it’d be shame all the same. 

He has to stop himself from sorry, because he knows sorry will spill into something more like the truth. That he would like nothing more than to hear all her big and little wants, to make them real for her, reach out and take them for her, give them to her. But he has wants of his own, and if he speaks any of it,  all his want will surely make her bolt. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t want a thing, really. I’m just excited about the girls, that’s all.” Her words fade and fizzle quiet on the end, all he can do to nod, mercy to make the car move, to not ask for any more from her right now, to not try to take what she is not willing to give. 

She’s quiet through their errands, still kind to Patty, a nice, new coat that he holds onto the image of as a small smolder of hope for staying. And he knows it’s possibly the worst thing he could have to do right now, sick with how she prickles and pinches up when they pull into the station parking lot. But work is work, duty is duty, and he must. A quiet be right back and an even smaller okay from her as he gets out of the car. 

“Miller.” John seems to always be in a variable lean these days, elbows on the counter in the front office, thumbing through some report. Joel offers him a nod as he moves past the man, dropping off more paperwork for a speeding ticket he wrote two nights ago. 

“That husband out of Nebraska called again.” Joel’s spine straightens, steeled and silent. The husband has called every month since she left, since his car got sent back across state lines. Always asking if they’ve heard anything, seen anything. Joel has never been the one to answer those calls, and he’s not sure whether that’s a blessing or a curse. Part of him, poison, wants to hear the man’s voice, give himself something more to hate, something more to imagine in the middle of the night when a closed fist feels like a good idea. 

“He have anything new to say?” John shrugs, only a spared glance over the top of the papers he’s reading, no big deal, no fuss, and Joel has to remind himself that no, no big deal, none at all. A couple hundred miles worth of no big deal. 

“Same thing every time. You’d think he’d try searching elsewhere considering it’s been, what? Three months since that happened?” Four and a half, Joel thinks to himself, though he just nods at John’s estimate, trying on disinterest. 

“You think he’d ever come out here looking?” Wrong, so very, very wrong, he has to bite back a wince when the words leave his mouth, impulsive and idiotic to ask something like that. John’s brow draws down in perfect confusion, papers fanning out in front of him, paused.

“I don’t know, why do you ask?” He can’t bend or bluster now, feigning a yawn and a shrug as he scratches the back of his neck, time to think of what words will make this unnoticeable.

“Like you said, the wife probably ran away for a reason. I just wanna know if we’re gonna have trouble blowing in around here.” It seems to be enough, John sighing like, good point, hadn’t thought of that. 

“Well, he’d be a damn fool to do that after all this time.  Yep, either Lori Wright got the hell out, or she’s gone to the coyotes by now, God forbid.” He didn’t know her last name. Didn’t know Lori either. A shortening, a smalling of Dolores, clearly. Three names for her now. One he will never use.

“Here’s hoping.” He thinks he hears his own voice crack, tilt up somewhere in the middle of hoping, though John doesn’t seem to notice it, already back to his papers, before thinking twice.

“You and Dovey-girl coming to the bar tonight?” She has warmed up to John, just like everyone else in town. She’ll even play a few rounds of darts with him at the bar when they do show up, surprisingly good at it, quick hands and sharp eyes. 

“Probably not tonight, no,  lots to take care of for the winter and all.”

“So she’s staying on for the winter?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Trying to not let that feel too good, palm swiped down his scruff to temper a smile. Willing it and wanting it, even though he shouldn’t. And is he bad for this? For hoping she stays, gone to the coyotes, except not really, except right where husband could find her. A slurry of sick when his mind suddenly flashes with the thought. Her working at the diner and a stranger blowing in as they’re wont to do. Except not a stranger. Except not a stranger’s hand closed in a fist in her hair and dragging her a few hundred miles back across state lines. Except worse, maybe, possibly. Except husband has a gun. So much worse, not maybe, not possibly. Probably. 

“I know I won’t be the only one happy to hear that. She’s been a real addition to the community, you know? A keeper.” John’s words shake him out of his own murmuring thoughts, quick to correct the toxic tinge in his mind. No one is being kept, no one is keeping anyone. Not like that. It can’t be.

“She’s just staying for a little while. Getting her feet under her and– I just, you know, owed her a favor–” He’s making things up, giving more than he should. Something about an old friend, something about Texas even. Lies that will only make things more difficult, not just for him, but for her too. His blunder will require a debriefing at this point, pinning her in this web with him. Though he tells himself it’s protection, a thin, filmy layer of it that might keep husband out, maybe just enough. He hopes it is. 

“Everything okay?” The first thing she asks when he gets back in the car, and he knows that this is her way of trying, of saying sorry for the silence, the sudden shrinking. 

“Yeah, got stopped talking to John. He told me to tell you he’s been practicing his aim, so you better be ready for some competition the next time y’all play a round together.” Another lie, a small one though, and it makes the pinch of worry smooth in her expression, even a clipped laugh. He’ll take it.  

The sun has already closed one eye, half-asleep and hanging on by a thread over the snarled lip of the mountains. It’s been getting cold enough at night that the sheep have started congregating around the barn in the evenings, huddling close and tight to keep in warmth. Pretty soon, he’ll have to set up the heater inside, the promise of another long winter not far away. 

Of course, she heads straight toward the barn when they get home, shrugging into her new coat as she greets the flock, all warmth, all dripping adoration. He’s pretty sure the bleats of the animals are an equally affectionate reciprocation. There’s no fear in how she approaches them, easy pats to their broad bellies, her palms running and scratching along their cheeks and behind their flickering ears how they seem to like it. All the while talking, the most he ever hears her say, always for the animals. He hangs back, leaning against the side of the car, listening, though trying not to look like he is. She pays particular attention to Avril and Lucy, palm splayed over their sides as she murmurs to them. He has to bite back a laugh when she shoots a pointed look toward the two rams, only just discernible in the quick-fading light. Seeming satisfied with her convening, she starts to pluck and pad back through the brush toward him.

“Dinner?” 

“Yes, ma’am. Just tell me how I can help.” 

He’s never known how to cook well. Lots of scrambled eggs and pb and js for Sarah growing up, an errant casserole from a well-meaning neighbor every now and again. But Dolores moves like she knows what she’s doing in the kitchen, something confident in the flick of the stove and the stir of something warm and snaring heat. She always gives him the simplest tasks, sure in what she tells him to do, a cutting board and a knife and the new, fresh things of the fall chopped up small to melt down in their own savor in the pan. 

He always thanks her when they sit down, and she’s just as bad at receiving that as he is, her chin tucked down in a shake of her head. And that thing, that sickening submission thing she does. Doesn’t even lift fork or knife, hands held in her lap until he starts to chew. He’s tried a few times to wait it out, to see if eventually. But no, he supposes they’d be waiting there all night. Conditioning that has been cemented beneath her skull, that only makes that hate get bigger in his chest. And then he starts to wonder after the cooking, if that isn’t just the same, something that fear taught her how to do. His stomach twists with the thought. 

“Can I ask you something?” He shouldn’t. But she nods, dabbing at the corner of her mouth. So he does. 

“You don’t– do you like to do that?” A vague wave of his hand over to the stove, that. Her shoulders raise, a slight hackle.

“I– I don’t mind it. Yes, I like to.” Two different answers, really, like she decided part-way through the first one that it needed to be paved over with something else. 

“Because you don’t have to, you know.” She winces. He did that. He caused that. By poking and prodding around where he shouldn’t have been. 

“I know, I figure it’s the least I can do though.” He’d like to say no, don’t need to do a thing. Already doing so much. Not keeping score. Not keeping anything. Not being kept. But that’s still too dangerous of a truth, silence settling as they continue to eat, nothing right that could be said. Though he refuses to assume this awful role, to move through the ghost rhythms of her old life. Resolving himself for tomorrow, that he will wait at the table all night if he has to, that the food will go cold if it has to, hollow guts until it becomes something different. Because this must be different, and she must know that it is different. And in small ways, he knows that she does. But he cannot let any of this poison seep through, cannot let any piece of him be associated with husband, with horror. 

After dinner, he doesn’t let her anywhere near the dishes, and it’s about the dishes and it isn’t about the dishes, crowding her out of the kitchen, telling her to go, go read, got this, he’s got this. But when he joins her in the living room, she isn’t reading, sitting on the edge of the couch with her elbows on her knees and the raw skin around her thumb worrying between her teeth. 

“Did I do something wrong?” Shit, stomach sinking at her question. And a swift, silent realization that he is going to have to be more explicit about these things. That hers is a mind on high alert for anything out of place, any word out of tune, and that he will have to be careful, so careful to reassure and remember that. 

“No, that’s not– you haven’t done anything wrong. I– you don’t owe me a thing, do you understand that? I’m serious. I’m not waiting for you to repay anything or earn anything. It’s not like that.” Not like him, what he’d really like to say. Not like a few hundred miles across state lines, what he’d really like to say. And he wishes more than anything that she would understand that by now. But then, how many years worth of unlearning does she have to do? 

She mentioned something about their tenth wedding anniversary, always more liable to talk after half a beer at the bar, close and quiet with him. Husband came home later than he was supposed to and she made a comment about them missing their dinner reservation and he made her sorry for the rest of the night for making a comment about them missing their dinner reservation. So ten years, at least. A whole decade that must be unraveled.

“I want something.” It’s so unexpected that his next inhale gets stuck somewhere in his throat, though he’s quick to catch it, clearing it out as he nods at her.

“Okay, what do you want?” She gets up from the couch, turning to stand in front of him, a few shuffled steps to where he’s standing in the doorway. 

“I don’t know if I should want it.” He does not flinch or freeze when careful fingers curl around his wrist, not even when his pulse jumps as she takes his hand between both of hers, pressed like planes of glass, flat and fragile. 

“Tell me what it is, Dove.” If he moves even the smallest muscle, she might startle, spook, and split away at the edges, so he stays so still, letting her turn his hand this way and that between both of hers, her lashes splayed over the tops of her cheeks in the droop of her eyes. 

“I shouldn’t.” 

“I think you should.”

“You’ll think I’m crazy.”

“I don’t think you’re crazy.”

“You will if I tell you.” 

“No, I won’t.” 

“You won’t?”

“I promise I won’t.” She sighs, a long, aching sound that starts one of his own in his chest. Finally, fingers threading with his. 

“This is hard for me.”

“I know it is.” Finally, eyes given to him, flickering up and holding there.

“I can’t, Joel. I’m sorry.” But she doesn’t let go, doesn’t look away. And this has to be enough, he has to make it enough. Not the time to push, to try to take any more from her than she has already given him. Not now, not when her thumb is smoothing a line into the side of his hand. Not when anything more could take all of this away. 

“It’s okay, Dovey. Take your time.” Because he’d give all of it to her, every second he could possibly promise away to her, and there’s no use lying about that now.

Catch and release, her hand already untangling from his, arms crossing over her stomach, closing up all over again. But not nothing. Something different. Something changing, carefully reconfiguring around each other. 

She sits back down on the couch, and it’s wordless, the way that he settles next to her. Nothing asked after, a silent understanding. Both learning, moving with the other. His arm settles over the back of the couch, presence more than anything, and she reciprocates in kind, leaning a little closer, fitting her shoulder under his, hip to hip. It’s slow, glacial really, the way they fit the fact of their bodies around each other. But eventually, his hand settles as a suggestion over her shoulder, and her thigh presses up against his. And the last fall, the last allowance, comes in the way her head tilts to lay against his chest. Fitting together all these strange and broken pieces, until it’s as easy as respiration. 

She can take her time, and his too. This can be as slow as it needs to be. But he thinks that he knows what she wants, and he thinks it’s the same thing he’s been trying so hard to tamp down, to temper and toe some imaginary line against and away from. For now, even the thought that this could be shared is enough, weak with wanting, and he doesn’t care anymore. 

He can want, and so can she. 

..................................

taglist: @casssiopeia @eleganthottubfun @anoverwhelmingdin @sscorpiiio @joeldjarin @casa-boiardi @suzmagine @syakhairi @spookyxsam @northernbluess @hier--soir @darkroastjoel @wannab-urs @tieronecrush @beskarandblasters @trulybetty @softlyspector @noisynightmarepoetry @csarab615 @beskarandblasters @ratoonstown @harriedandharassed @survivingandenduring

[typh0nas]

The Language of Flowers

NijiEN Fantasy Otome AU

_______________

Content Warnings: will be added to each chapter if there are any trigger warnings.

Character(s): GN!Reader(no pronouns mentioned), Vox Akuma, Ike Eveland, Luca Kaneshiro, Shu Yamino, Mysta Rias, Fulgur Ovid, Uki Violeta, Alban Knox, Sonny Brisko, Yugo Asuma

Authors Notes: It’s here, it’s here! Sorry for the long ass wait HAHA. I have a lot of projects for now, so I’ll try and add everyone’s route as time goes on. 

11/14/2023: Currently have Vox and Mysta’s chapter 1 out! Will add everyone else’s when i have time :)

_______________

You, a royal and the crown heir to the Ninisani Empire. You answer to no one and make your own rules. However, war ravages the country, causing chaos and turmoil. Left with little choice and with much urging from your council, you ultimately decide that the best course of action is to ally yourself with the neighboring Luxiem Regency to help strengthen your army. 

Now, what exactly might you do now?

_______________

You stand tall, faced with a less than appealing choice. But the council is unyielding and unwavering and their decision stands firm. 

"Your highness, you must understand that this is what we have determined will help ensure the longevity of the Empire. As the current acting ruler, you must think about what is best for the people...YOUR people.”

You massage your temples feeling a headache coming on. “I don’t understand why I must be wed to Lord Akuma, are we not merely strengthening our army?” Members on the council look around, and you can hear their whispering from where you stand. 

“This is a matter of politics. This alliance will help strengthen our empire and can ensure that we will have the support we need in the coming days of the war. You have seen the effect it has had on the people. Your Highness...they’re terrified, this is for the best. At most, your marriage with Lord Akuma is only on paper. He has already agreed to these arrangements. Must you be so stubborn?” The head councilman shakes his head at you. 

You feel your irritation grow as you stare down the head councilman and he squirms under your gaze. The silence grows in the room as everyone stares at you with bated breath, awaiting your decision. 

“Fine.” Your voice rings loud and clear within the hollow chamber, and you can hear sighs of reliefs from some of the other council members, but you choose to ignore it.

The head councilman rises, a smile on his face, “Oh wonderful Your Highness! We’ll make arrangements for the wedding immediately.” You wave your hand in his direction, tired of his blathering as you turn back towards the door to leave. 

“Do what you must.” You close your eyes, the weight of your situation sinking in. 

_______________

Who will you choose?

_______________

Vox Akuma {👹🧧}

The one you're betrothed to

“As the current acting ruler, you must think about what is best for the people...YOUR people” Those are the words the echo back to you repeatedly, the head councilman’s voice ringing in your head. You weren’t happy with the council’s decision by any means, but if it meant ensuring the safety of your citizens and it truly was for the greater good then you had no choice but to reluctantly go with his decision. Although this arrangement isn’t what you thought you would end up engaged to someone, you find that Vox is gentle and kind. There appears to be more to him then what first meets the eye.

“That blush on your face is absolutely adorable...it makes me want to ravish you. ....I'm kidding! Naturally I wouldn’t do anything unless you were okay with it.”

VOX’S ROUTE: {RED SALVIAS}

{Vox Chapter 1 - [UNLOCKED]} (CW: mentions of being intoxicated)

Mysta Rias {🕵‍♂️🦊}

A lesser lord of the Luxiem Regency, and Vox’s right hand man

It seems that wherever Vox goes, Mysta seems to follow behind him. He’s sort of an odd fellow to you, with the way his gaze lingers on you. But when you catch him staring for a moment too long, he quickly looks away coughing into his fist or brushing his hair back, a faint flush on his face. When asked about it, he deflects with some lame excuse and immediately tries to change the subject. Even with his prickly exterior, Mysta has never seriously pushed you away from him. 

“I guess your company isn’t so bad. Huh? You’re telling Vox about this? N-no wait!”

MYSTA’S ROUTE: {FORGET-ME-NOTS}

{Mysta Chapter 1 - [UNLOCKED]}

Ike Eveland {🖋🔷️}

The court scribe

The ever quiet but meticulous scribe of the court. Ike mainly keeps to himself, whether it’s writing away some important on a piece of paper or his nose stuck into some book. He's can be found in the library copying and translating old texts that practically crumble at your fingertips when picked up. If not there, he could be found seated several seats down from you during council meetings to record each and every word uttered out. Though the two of you haven’t spoken much, you secretly admire how hard he works.

“Don’t you know it’s rude to go through someone’s personal things without asking first?”

{Ike’s Route Not Yet Unlocked - English Ivy}

Shu Yamino {👟☯️}

The powerful sorcerer of the court

The mysterious sorcerer that managed to charm you with his spectacular display of magic. You initially scoffed, thinking it was nothing more than a show of sparkles and nothing more. But to your surprise, he manages to find ways to prove you wrong. On more than one occasion Shu has used his abilities to cure your citizens of what ails them, from an normal everyday fever, to even fixing up an elderly council member’s bad leg. You begrudgingly admit that maybe he is someone that you could rely on.

“Want me to show you something cool? No? Well your loss then.”

{Shu’s Route Not Yet Unlocked - White Jasmine}

Luca Kaneshiro {🦁💰}

Your childhood best friend who has a penchant for getting into trouble

Your ever loyal best friend, a notorious playboy with a string of broken hearts left in his wake, even if it’s unintentional. Maybe it was because of his blinding personality and charming demeanor. You’ve always joked that while Luca is the sun, you’re the moon, the counterbalance to his outgoing nature. 

“Hey hey! I know how much you love the flower fields when they’re blooming, but since you’re so busy and can’t see them yourself, I brought them to you!”

{Luca’s Route Not Yet Unlocked - Yellow Acacias}

-----

Fulgur Ovid {⚡️🐏}

The local bounty hunter who comes and goes as he pleases

There isn’t much that you know about him, only the rumors that circulate around the palace grounds, and that he’s one of the empire’s most renowned bounty hunters. From what you’ve gathered, no one knows too much about his personal life. With each lead that you pursue, you find that you’re led on one wild goose chase after another. 

“You’re a strange one. Tell me, why are you so insistent on following me and trying to get to know me?”

{Fulgur’s Route Not Yet Unlocked - Edelweiss}

Uki Violeta {🔮🌌}

The peculiar psychic from the market

One of the best fortunetellers in the city, and generally one of the calmest people that you know, with a soft voice and gentle eyes. You’re a regular at his tent every time you sneak down from the palace. He can see things that others can’t and every persons’ future that he’s read seems to have come true in one way or another. Uki can always be found in that same purple tent in the same spot at the market, tarot cards spread over the table. You curiosity to know more and more about him grows with each visit.  

“Come see me again, I’ll show you more about what your future holds~”

{Uki’s Route Not Yet Unlocked - Pink Honeysuckle}

Alban Knox {🎭🕒}

The cunning thief you found, trying to steal from Vox's treasury

You couldn’t deny that Vox’s treasury was indeed very vast. You happened to come across him one night while you were trying to deposit some of your own valuables for safekeeping. One step into the massive room and you’re making eye contact with a very smug-looking thief. Before you can yell for help, he leaps across the room without making any noise, coming face to face with you, pressing a gloved finger to your lips, shushing you. You’re left dumbfounded and shocked as you watch him bound back across the room, snatching up a few gems in the process, and then swiftly slipping out the window as if he was never there in the first place. It seemed almost as if that was the last you would see of him. Or so that’s what you thought.

“Hehe you’re an interesting one, maybe I’ll just steal you away instead!”

{Alban’s Route Not Yet Unlocked - Morning Glories}

Sonny Brisko {🔗🤲}

The captain of the royal guard

When Sonny became captain of the royal guard, he never expected to become your personal bodyguard, so to speak. But as the acting ruler of the Ninisani Empire, it was only natural that the council would want you to have someone looking out for you at all times, and who better than one of the best guards. And so Sonny would follow you wherever you went, standing silently off to the side. Unassuming until he was required to step in. He would stand guard outside of your room at night keeping an eye out for threats but not daring to step one foot inside for fear of intruding on your privacy. And so he always keeps an eye on you, even if he has to physically restrain himself from chasing after anyone he deems a threat to your safety. 

“It’s my job to protect you and I intend on doing just that. No matter what happens I’ll always be by your side.”

{Sonny’s Route Not Yet Unlocked - Coreopsis}

Yugo Asuma {🎧🎶}

The bard at the local tavern

On one of your regular nightly escapades, find yourself seeking shelter at a local tavern to shield yourself from the rain. The bar, although of modest size is lively and it appears to be a hotspot for all sorts of people from the city. Feeling overstimulated and maybe even a bit overwhelmed, you make your way to the back corner where you feel you won’t be bothered. It’s just your luck that you make eye contact with the bard seated on a stool atop the dingy stage.

“I haven’t seen you before. Mind if I play you a song?”

{Yugo’s Route Not Yet Unlocked - Blue Hyacinth}

_______________  

{Tags!}

@hiqhkey @angelkazusstuff @emissaire 

_______________

Back to Navigation {☆}  

[peppymintdreams]

Mentally not there

Luca Pearce x Mentally ill mc

I was requested this so I hope this comes up to your standards to anon I can’t find the request I’m so sorry

I haven’t had mental issues like this before so I tried my hardest

Luca stared at the front door as it slowly clicked open. His heart raced, not with excitement, but with a quiet, gnawing fear. He hadn't seen his partner for months. The hospital stay had been long, and every day without them had chipped away at him. And now, they were finally home.

But when they walked through the door, Luca’s breath caught in his throat. They were there, but something was wrong.

Their expression was calm—too calm. A quiet neutrality washed over their face, almost like they were sleepwalking through the motions. No excitement, no warmth, just... existing. The Luca who had known them, loved them, and laughed with them, felt his heart sink.

“Hey,” Luca greeted softly, his voice almost trembling as he tried to keep his tone light. “It’s so good to have you back.”

They offered a small nod, eyes distant. It wasn’t them. It was their body, their voice, but the spark—the life he loved—was missing.

Luca swallowed hard. “I, uh... I thought maybe we could build that Lego set you loved, the one with the castle. Remember how we always used to argue over which piece went where?”

Their eyes flickered toward the shelf where the Lego sets still sat, dusty from months of neglect. But they didn’t react. No smile, no witty comment about how they always picked the right pieces. Just silence.

Luca bit his lip, desperate to break through. "Or we could play Minecraft? You loved that—building those insane worlds, making farms bigger than anyone could ever need." His voice cracked, a soft plea hidden beneath the suggestion.

Nothing.

They simply sat on the couch, eyes empty. Luca’s heart ached. He could feel his own energy draining with every attempt. Days passed like this, Luca trying everything—old jokes, shared memories, even the small routines they used to love. But no matter what he did, their response was the same: distant, neutral, hollow.

One night, after another exhausting day of trying to reach them, Luca finally broke. He stumbled into their shared bedroom, his body heavy with exhaustion. He collapsed onto the bed, burying his face in the pillow, unable to stop the tears that fell freely. "I miss you," he whispered into the fabric, voice shaking. "God, I miss you so much. Why won’t you come back to me?"

He lay there, crying quietly, until the weight of everything—his worry, his exhaustion, his heartbreak—finally pulled him under. He fell asleep, tears still wet on his cheeks, hoping for something, anything to change.

Hours later, Luca stirred. He expected the soft warmth of his pillow still pressed against him. But as he blinked into the darkness, he realized something was different. There was a warmth, but it wasn’t the pillow.

His arms were wrapped around them—his partner. They were nestled against his chest, clinging to him as if afraid he would disappear. Their grip was tight, desperate, as though he was the only thing anchoring them to this world.

Luca’s breath hitched. His heart pounded in his chest as he looked down at them. "There you are," he whispered, barely able to contain the tremor in his voice. This was them—the partner he missed, the one who used to hold him this close, who made him feel like he was home whenever they were near.

He held them tighter, pressing a soft kiss to their cheek. "It’s good to have you back, baby," he murmured, his voice gentle, filled with relief. "Welcome home."

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he felt them smile against him. It was small, but it was real. Luca’s eyes welled up again, but this time, the tears were different—tears of hope, of love, of finally seeing the person he adored peeking through the fog.

He pulled them even closer, burying his face in their hair, feeling their warmth, their presence. They were still healing, still broken in some ways, but in this moment, it didn’t matter. They were here, and that was enough.

As they clung to him, Luca whispered softly, "I missed you so much," his words melting into the silence of the room. "But I’m not going anywhere. I’m here, and I’ll wait as long as it takes."

With that, they both drifted into sleep, their bodies wrapped together, two broken pieces finally finding their way back.

[badboypoirot]

Rear View Mirror

> Book 3 Spoilers <

Fandom: The Wayhaven Chronicles

Relationships: F!Bobby / M!Detective; Ava / M!Detective

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, I guess? If the Comfort is a bad idea?

Word Count: 531

Rating: PG-13

Summary: When the Detective has his heart broken, he finds a distraction in a certain journalist.

Author’s Note: This takes place after Book 3 on the Ava and Bobby routes, so beware spoilers.

I love the idea of Bobby becoming a confidant — and something more — for the Detective even though it’s a terrible idea. This is how I imagine it starts.

Read on AO3

If you asked Detective Lucas Langford why he was making daily drives to the Facility to visit a certain journalist, he would answer earnestly.

Not too long ago he had been in her position: stuck in bed, reeling from the revelations of the supernatural and trying not to implode. Yes, he and Bobby hadn't been on the best of terms. But this he had experience in. He could help.

And this was all true.

But it wasn't entirely honest.

No, the real reason sat heavily on his heart. It was in the rear view mirror as he drove down the forested path away from the warehouse. It was the confusing mix of relief and disappointment when he would round the corner and a certain commanding agent wasn't there. It was Farah's gentle hand on his shoulder one night as he sobbed in his bedroom.

It was the emerald green eyes that he saw every time he closed his own.

It was the kiss that he constantly relived in his mind.

It was the supernova in his chest that exploded into a black hole when Ava finally said what he yearned to hear and how it could not be.

And that's how Lucas found himself in Facility every day, sitting beside Bobby Marks as she recovered.

First, it was just a distraction, a sorely needed escape. He didn't relish playing both counselor and orientation guide for his ex-girlfriend. But it was a good enough excuse and less pathetic than moping at the station. He could return to the warehouse hours later, confident that he wouldn't run into Ava.

Over the next days, their talks shifted. They had graduated from "Do vampires drink blood?" to Lucas's own work. And it was like the script had flipped: Bobby listened, patiently and without a hint of smugness, as Lucas recounted what an utter rollercoaster the past months had been. Despite spending hours with Unit Bravo and seeing a new side of Rebecca, he confessed one day, the role of Liaison had been incredibly lonely. It was then that Lucas felt a warm hand on his. He looked at Bobby, confused first at the motion and then at her intense gaze, as she said, "You don't have to feel alone anymore."

And for the first time in all the years they had known each other, he felt that he could truly see her.

Soon, his visits to the Facility weren't just escapes. During each drive, he reviewed their conversations from the day before, thought up new topics for them to talk about. Memories from their time together in college began to resurface -– not in the familiarly bitter way but fondly instead. Sometimes, alone in the car or in his room, he thought of her and simply smiled.

Finally, Bobby was released. Lucas drove her home, of course. The drive to Wayhaven, boring at best, felt like it took no time at all as conversation flowed easily between them, punctuated with laughter and the occasional teasing.

He pulled up to her apartment building and watched her walk away -– until she turned back and leaned towards him through the rolled down window.

"Would you want to come inside?"

[suspiciouslackofclowns]

I’m linking this fic (Steve/Eddie) again because I’m considering writing another part from Steve’s perspective, very heavily inspired by Billie Holliday’s I’ll Be Seeing You.

Sometimes I get hung up on the idea of Steve not properly mourning Billy’s death, and how bits and pieces of his grief start to show in his everyday life after the fact, specifically with things he used to enjoy.

Here’s a snippet of the fic linked above in case you haven’t come across it yet (most of the inspiration for this was Eddie needing a nickname for Steve that wasn’t pretty boy, because that will forever and always be Billy’s thing):

-

“Thought you said it was your favorite place in the house.”

Steve hums a laugh that sounds a little too soft.

“It is. It really is, I…” he trails off. Eyes wandering over every relic in front of him before he sighs. “I used to sleep in here more than I did in my own bed.”

“It does seem like an excellent place to take a nap, I’ll give you that.”

“Mm.”

A silence settles between them. It feels strangely… light. In fact, this might be the first time that Eddie has felt like his presence isn’t detested. He relaxes in his seat. Slouches a bit and tilts his head back against the top of the futon, smiling when Steve appears to do the same.

“This would be a killer spot to have a campaign in.”

“You trying to bring all of the brats in here and host one of your silly games, Munson?” Steve teases.

“Nah.” Eddie glances over at Steve. Finds that he’s still wearing that pleased little grin on his face. “That’s Henderson’s job now.”

“And he likes hosting outside, usually, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, and it’s so impractical. The kid prioritizes aesthetic over practicality, you have no idea how many times our shit has gotten blown everywhere.”

Steve chuckles, and it brings a warmth to Eddie’s cheeks.

“I’ve gotten an earful about that from Lucas before.”

“Oh, god, Sinclair ,” Eddie groans, slapping a hand over his face. “Those two bicker like an old married couple.”

“Mhm, I’ve gotten an earful of that too. More than once.”

They share a laugh. Eddie can’t help but notice how close their thighs are to touching right now. He lifts his head when Steve closes the short distance. Bumps their knees together and hums contentedly when Eddie doesn’t pull away.

A million things flood his mind in an instant. A good portion of them are things that he wants to say, and even more of them are things he wants to do .

Things like ask Steve why he decided to show him this secret little corner out of the blue after months of standoffish behavior.

Things like lean over and press a kiss to that pretty smile.

“Thanks for, y’know, hanging out with me, Edd,” Steve says softly.

That catches Eddie off guard.

“Oh, um, sure. Anytime.”

“Our movie nights have been one of my favorite things recently. It’s stupid, but I always look forward to it every week like I’m going to Disneyland or something.”

Steve chuckles again, and Eddie holds his breath for a beat when he shifts closer until their shoulders are touching.

“They’re one of my favorites too,” Eddie confesses.

The words feel like they come out slow and stupid, but that gentle laugh fills the air between them again, and Eddie can’t bring himself to care. All of his focus is on Steve’s face. So close that he can see the flecks of gold in his irises.

“Well, I’d hope so. I always try to pick stuff that I think you’ll like.”

“So you rented Frankenweenie? Seriously?”

Steve snorts, and Eddie chuckles. Chews his lip when Steve slouches further against him and stares at where his hand lies in his lap, palm upturned.

Just another thing that Eddie isn’t advised to touch.

“In my defense, I probably thought we could watch it and make fun of it.”

“So why didn’t we?”

Another short silence falls. Steve looks away, shrugging nonchalantly, but his eyes are suddenly glassy.

“Guess I just didn’t feel like it. Not today.”

There’s a strange finality to his words. Eddie racks his brain for a moment, furrowing his brows because he can’t think of why today could be anything significant.

It’s Saturday. Nothing special about that. No events come to mind when he thinks of late March, so he elects to sit on it rather than say anything. In the silence, Steve’s hand starts to look more and more appealing, but he tells himself that it’s a bad idea.

“Is there anything that you do feel like doing?” Eddie asks softly.

Steve turns to him once more. Glances down at his lips briefly before he shrugs again and exhales a sigh.

“I’m fine just talking to you, if that’s okay.”

The tenderness in his voice has an embarrassing amount of heat spreading up Eddie’s neck.

There have been plenty of occasions where he’s wanted to kiss Steve Harrington – the time he was a sore loser when he lost at bowling, and when he scared the shit out of Troy Walsh for defacing the Hellfire posters that Will spent a whole week making, just to name a couple – but none so much as he does right now.

Some lovesick, less logical part of his brain tells him that maybe Steve is thinking something similar right now. His eyes stay steadily trained on Eddie’s lips and his face seems closer than it was before. That has to be something, right? He isn’t going crazy?

He apparently isn’t because Steve’s eyes close after another second and the air in Eddie’s lungs shrinks.

“It’s more than okay, pretty boy,” he coos.

And maybe it’s fate that just as he begins to tilt his chin forward, Steve leans away. That there’s suddenly a space between them again.

Eddie instantly wants to backpedal, to ask what he did wrong, or maybe assure Steve that he wasn’t actually going to make a move, though it would be a lie.

His mind is wiped clean when a gentle sob soaks the air.

-

I’ll find you

In the morning sun

And when the night is new

I’ll be looking at the moon

But I’ll be seeing you

[hullomoon]

hullomoon’s 2022 works: part eight

it’s the end of the year, which means it’s time for a work round-up! this year i really tipped into being podfic heavy (and more multifandom!). if you haven’t yet, check out my 2019 roundup, 2020 roundup, and 2021 roundup! all works are ordered in chronological posting order.

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight

[podfic] amongst the rubble and stone | Stranger Things | Ronance | 46:59

When Alice finally gets the letter that tells her she’s been accepted into Emerson, they slowly send her all of the admissions information required as well as the information about her accommodation and her new roommate for freshman year. Someone called ‘Nancy Wheeler’ sounds both pretty harmless and like someone who would be, at the very least, easy to live with if not be friends with. So, going in, Alice isn’t expecting a ‘friends forever’ pact and camp-style braided bracelets, but she also isn’t expecting the girl that Nancy Wheeler ends up being.

[podfic] i got new rules (i count ‘em) | A League of Their Own | Greta-centric | 09:48

They become her unspoken rules, her sanctuary and her prison protected by armor of eyeliner and red lipstick:

One: Always be seen in the company of a man when you’re in public.

Two: Don’t get too close.

Three: Don’t fall in love.

[podfic] The Big Chill | Schitt’s Creek | David/Patrick | 1:40:34

David Rose learns to thaw while being chilled.

❄️ A modern-day Ice Age AU. ❄️

[Podfic] just a little bit of magic | Schitt’s Creek | Alexis/Twyla | 15:28

Twyla Sands has always known the day that she would meet her true love.

[podfic] exeunt ; enter stage | Stranger Things | Steve-centric | mature | 59:23

Nancy inhaled slowly as she took a meaningful step towards him. Steve's eyes flickered back over to her instinctively, and he got a firsthand view of how her face had crumpled, eyes wide and shining and worried. "Steve," Nancy said, slow, gentle, quiet, like she was trying to calm a cornered wild animal. "None of us said those things."

Steve's mouth opened, words piling on the tip of his tongue: what, so I was just hallucinating, then? he wanted to ask, nearly did ask, and then he realized—heart stopping in his chest and the floor very suddenly feeling like it had been ripped out beneath him—that was exactly what was happening.

Steve's jaw shut with a click.

"Oh," Steve breathed shakily. Oh, fuck.

Vecna curses Steve. As you could imagine, it isn't a very good time.

[podfic] and yet i love her | A League of Their Own | Max/Esther | mature | 15:27

“You need to get up now or I’ll be keeping you in bed all day,” Es says with a lascivious grin. It’s an empty threat, and they both know it - it’s not like they could ever risk being caught in here together, but it’s enough to make Max laugh and swing her legs over the edge of the bed.

“Save that for after we win the game,” she tells her, and begins to dress before they can distract each other.

('I love you', Esther said. No woman has ever told Max they love her before.)

----

Esther says 'I love you'; Max wonders if she's ready to say it back.

[podfic] i wanna make a supersonic man (out of you) | Stranger Things | Lucas & Steve | 22:01

Lucas is the man of the group, he knows this. He's got to be the man, like Steve, and wear polos and khakis and come between evil and the weak and be a lady killer and a charming, funny, sweet guy. Like Steve who has started hanging out with Eddie Munson and getting piercings and wearing eyeliner and not being the man Lucas thought he was.

“Steve is that an earring?” says Dustin, at one of his highest pitches, slap bang in the middle of one of Eddie’s tirades.

Everyone pauses. Number one, you never interrupt Eddie, especially not during D&D. Number two, what? (Lucas has strong suspicions he can’t let Max ever find out about this, or she’s going to break-up with him and become a full-time Steve admirer.)

They all lean forwards.

Steve shifts slightly uncomfortably, but he looks amused. “Yeah.” He shrugs. And there it is, a single tiny silver hoop in his left ear. Lucas stares, amazed.

“You’re a guy,” says Lucas, without thinking about it.

Steve only laughs. “I am aware, Lucas, thank you.”

[podfic] Exactly Like You | Check Please! | Bitty/Kent | 09:12

in which, Kent V Parson is an ENORMOUS sap. But quietly, inside his head, because he knows being all possessive and shit is not Healthy Relationship Goals and he is trying for that. Eric is worth trying for.

[podfic] Things We Do For Love | Stranger Things | Dustin & Steve, Steddie | 04:57

When Steve starts to feel a little left out of the 'nerd culture' talk and references, Dustin helps him catch up on the most important bits.

[podfic] Bells All Ring, Horns All Blow | Schitt’s Creek | David/Patrick | 01:24:43

“Um, I can’t—I’m not going home." Patrick says. "Not, ah, not this time. There’s a lot of ice in the forecast.” It feels just like the excuse it is when he says it out loud, and he remembers his mom’s disappointed oh over the phone earlier when he told her the same thing.

To his relief, David nods. Stevie looks at him funny, but she’s usually doing that so he doesn’t take it too personally. “That’s probably good,” David says.

“Just because you don’t want to move the overflow shelving on the twenty-sixth,” Patrick says, but David holds up a hand.

“It’ll be fun to have you around,” David says. It’s more honest than he usually is, which he realizes a few seconds after Patrick does, lips twisting up in self-deprecation.

Patrick nods hesitantly as a plan takes shape in his head. He thought for David’s birthday that maybe...but he can try again. He can do it right this time.

Or, Patrick and David find a different way to each other.

 my 201st Schitt's Creek Work

[everythingelseisextra]

Alright, well... I think this is my longest book report so far. I apologize for not being able to get to this fic immediately. Today is my first day off from work I've had in a while (horses mean you have to work weekends, too). So, finally, I've gotten around to reading this. Here are my thoughts, and my apologies for talking so much. It's a bad habit of mine.

Thunder rumbled overhead as Aurora made her way into the room, unnoticed by everyone, skirting the perimeter of the room as she listened carefully. Already, it’s interesting to me that she goes unnoticed. I assume based on this that she’s often underestimated, and made to feel smaller than she really is. She’s powerful and volatile, that much was clear by Changretta Calls 2, but there’s more to her and her reputation than that. 

I’m going through and translating all the Italian. It makes for a more engaging and interesting read, to be sure. I LOVE reading things that are puzzles, written in other languages or in verse form or in chopped and mixed sentences (I’m partway through House Of Leaves, if you’ve ever heard of that.) It’s a joy to see this in a fanfic. 

“Don’t you remember what the intelligence said about his family? They’re gypsies, fucking savages,” Not sure how I feel about this. First of all, fair enough about the savagery, Tommy and Co certainly have a way about them that’s far bloodier than probably necessary, and the word ‘Gypsy’ wasn’t a slur at the time, but still… you’d think based on what I know about her that she would know that there’s no such thing as a true savage, at least not in the stereotypical sense. But, she has a fire to her, and I can respect that. 

He didn’t want to listen to the distinct sounds of Luca’s blows striking the object of his ire or Aurora’s muffled cries, but he would have to stand watch until it was over to know how to proceed.  Christ, that’s… awful. I love that the POV changed briefly so that we as readers get to experience the brutality of Luca towards Aurora without actually having to see it. And we get the view of an outsider on their relationship, so that it’s clear that the people around them are fully aware of the abuse and complexity of their partnership. 

“And Enzo, buy her blue hydrangeas tomorrow,” Antonio ordered. “They’re her favorite. I don’t want her feeling homesick,” That’s… that’s sad. She’s still his little girl, and he wants her to be safe. It gives us a glimpse into the softness that’s there within her, that we don’t get to see because of the precariousness of her situation. There’s no chance for her to be gentle or human, she has to be tough and ruthless at all times. But, as I guessed earlier, that’s not all there is. There’s so much more to her than that. 

“Thank God she married a man like me to keep her in her place, right?” Ew.

“An alliance with the Jews? That’s clever,” she praised, hoping her guess was correct. Running a hand along his knee seductively, she waited for Luca to confirm her suspicions. DO WE GET AN ALFIE APPEARANCE IN THIS FIC? HAVE YOU BLESSED US WITH ALFIE SOLOMONS AND HIS BEAUTIFUL OUT-OF-POCKET PERSONALITY? ~in truth, I feel like this is a ruse of some kind, and that there will be no Alfie, but we shall see~

“Vaffanculo!” Agreed, love. Agreed. 

“I insist,” the woman said with a definitive nod. “I’m Rose Solomons, Alfie’s wife. Come in,” she said with a wave of her hand. What is this, a crossover episode?

He didn’t like being humiliated by the Solomons woman and made a mental note to make Alfie pay dearly for it. Yeah, good luck with that. Alfie is smart, and Luca has a bad habit of underestimating his opponents. He’s a bit of a megalomaniac in canon, seems to think he’s tougher than everyone else simply by default. 

“You’d die by his hand? Because that’s where you’re headed, love,” Rose warned, recalling her own difficult past. “Won’t you try?” Well, shit. Now I need to know about Rose, too. Especially considering my deep (but platonic) love for Alfie, I’d love to read some more of her. First off, she’s intelligent in the same way Ada is; able to play to another’s empathy and strengths. Secondly, she has a story, and I LOVE when OCs come from complicated or even straight up evil pasts. Must be the sadist in me, I guess. 

“We get you to Tommy Shelby,” Rose said confidently. FUCK YEAH. I’m so excited for these two to cross paths. Talk about a power couple. 

“I just want out, you understand? I want out from under him," she confided, her whole body beginning to shake. There it is. There’s that other side of her I knew was in there. It’s beautifully written. It’s different as soon as she doesn’t have to walk on eggshells trying to placate a man while also holding her own power in place. I love that she’s able to have both self-respect and a deep-seated terror of her husband/situation.

My Sun, My Moon and All My Stars-Part 1

Luca Changretta x OC (Aurora Sabini Changretta) x Tommy Shelby

Summary: Luca and Aurora Changretta come to the UK to avenge the murder of Luca's brother and father. However, as their volatile marriage unravels, events take an unexpected turn.

Author's Note: This has been on my mind since I created the moodboard ages ago. And it's been requested in several forms, the most recent being a lovely anon who wanted to see Tommy with an American mafia girl. OC Rose Solomons belongs to @raincoffeeandfandoms. Prequel has been posted as phone calls in two parts here and here. I would def recommend reading that before starting this fic! One more part coming soon!

Warnings: language, domestic violence, mention of blood, use of ethnic slur

Luca stood pointing at a map with his forefinger, tracing a path from the garden to the center of Arrow House, mumbling in a low voice to his men. Thunder rumbled overhead as Aurora made her way into the room, unnoticed by everyone, skirting the perimeter of the room as she listened carefully. When she’d heard enough she spoke up from the back of the room, voice even and measured to show she was in control as much as her husband. “Non sono d’accordo, Luca.”

Luca’s head shot up as he searched between the faces to find his wife, though he thought he’d caught a hint of her perfume moments earlier, taunting him as he attempted to strategize. 

“It’s too risky to approach him at home again,” Aurora declared, stalking toward the desk with cigarette in hand. The smoke parted the men before her arrival at the table and she stamped out her cigarette a bit too forcefully before joining her husband where he stood. Although she hadn’t been invited to give her opinion, she’d been listening to every word, silently judging the ludicrous plan Luca was suggesting.

“Don’t you remember what the intelligence said about his family? They’re gypsies, fucking savages,” she emphasized. “And he’ll be expecting us this time so he'll have even more protection,” Aurora said with a dismissive shake of her head. Luca’s face and neck reddened at the scolding tone of her voice, his blood boiling instantly at the brazen way she dared to usurp his power.

The air grew thick with their silence and as Aurora’s eyes scanned the room, she noticed not one of the men looked in her direction. They shifted uncomfortably as Luca reached for a matchstick, placing it between gritted teeth.

A low growl emitted before his words, causing everyone to stand at attention once more. “And what would you have me do, tesoro?” he said the pet name without any hint of warmth, but Aurora did not back away. In fact, she stepped closer to her husband, standing just below his shoulder as she placed a hand to his forearm gently. 

“I’m only asking that we consider a few more options,” she said diplomatically. Then she reasoned, “There must be another way to get to Tommy Shelby. His sister’s home in London or perhaps one of his factories. We’ll have to wait for him to come to us this time.”

Luca removed the match from his mouth as she spoke, lighting it and held it perilously close to her face as he taunted, “We smoke him out, principessa? Is that what you want?” he asked moving even closer, the flame in danger of catching her loose curls on fire.

Aurora didn’t blink as she watched the flame dance before her eyes. She could feel the heat close to her skin and her pulse quickened. “Basta cosi!,” she warned with raised eyebrow.

As lightning flashed outside the office window the spell was broken, Luca blew out the match with a dark chuckle. Turning to his men he concluded with a wave of his hand, “You heard my wife.” Then rolling up the map before him with haste he added, “We’ll pick this up tomorrow when everyone’s rested.” Everyone filed out, but Matteo and Enzo remained to ensure nothing else was needed for the evening. Aurora remained at the window as Luca instructed, “Seven o’ clock sharp, you understand?” 

“Yes, boss,” Matteo and Enzo replied, trudging toward their rooms. It was only their second night in England and they had not yet acclimated to the time difference. They felt the exhaustion seeping into their bones, the relentless demands weighing on them heavily. 

Before they could move more than a few steps down the corridor, they heard the shouting begin. As the sound of glass shattering broke the crescendo of voices, Matteo ran a hand down his face, a hint of irritation as he sighed heavily. “Do you have the number for the hospital?” he asked his associate.

Enzo nodded slowly. “And the morgue,” he added solemnly, eyes lingering on the doorknob. He didn’t want to listen to the distinct sounds of Luca’s blows striking the object of his ire or Aurora’s muffled cries, but he would have to stand watch until it was over to know how to proceed. 

Luca tired easily tonight and Aurora limped from the suite thirty minutes later, hair disheveled to hide the bruise forming across her cheekbone. She fell once, picking herself up from the hard wooden floor with a sniffle and Matteo and Enzo turned from her as though they hadn’t seen her in ruin, a familiar routine of make believe.

“Let’s get some fucking sleep,” Matteo said when she disappeared into a separate room.

Enzo had just closed the door to his room and kicked off his shoes when the phone began to ring.

“Enzo, what’s going on? Luca hasn’t phoned,” Mr. Sabini grumbled.

“Luca’s been…working on strategy,” Enzo fumbled, thinking of the fight he’d just witnessed. He didn’t dare mention it to Aurora’s father though. Out of everyone who knew of their tumultuous marriage, Antonio Sabini was somehow unaware of his daughter’s plight. 

As if on cue, Antonio asked, “How’s Aurora?” 

Enzo gulped as he thought of a reply. “You know, she’s got her ideas,” he said truthfully.

“That’s my little girl!,” Antonio answered proudly. "She's got a sharp mind and she's good under pressure!" he boasted. "Mark my words, Enzo, this vendetta will end as quickly as it started now that Luca has my Aurora by his side. She won't lose any of our men either because she's much more delicate than he is with these affairs you see. Luca's always been too temperamental," he mused.

"Yeah," Enzo agreed quietly, hoping Mr. Sabini was right.

“Keep me informed. I want to know everything,” Antonio said sternly. “And keep Aurora out of danger if it comes to that.”

“Yes, sir,” Enzo reluctantly agreed, unsure how he was going to keep the promise. 

“And Enzo, buy her blue hydrangeas tomorrow,” Antonio ordered. “They’re her favorite. I don’t want her feeling homesick,” he added softly, the fondness of a memory seeping into his voice and making it much quieter than before.

“Of course,” Enzo said, replacing the heavy receiver in the cradle and falling into bed, only to be awoken an hour later by the sounds of lovemaking in the room next door.

—————————————-

At seven the next morning, Aurora entered Luca’s office, smiling to herself as she held a large bouquet in her arms. All the men in the room turned to drink in the sight of her glamour, a trait that lived on in her from her exceptionally beautiful mother. Enzo and Matteo exchanged knowing glances as they traced the lines of her face, noting how talented she’d become at hiding the swelling and bruises. 

Although it sickened them to watch, she bent low to capture Luca’s mouth in a tender kiss, pulling away to breath a near silent “mi dispiace” against his lips. For reasons known only to her and Luca, they always fell back into each other’s arms. It was as predictable as the rising sun.

“I know you are, baby,” he replied, turning her out of his lap. 

“Grazie, amore,” she said sweetly holding up the flowers and stroking his cheek adoringly.

Luca knitted his brow, a hint of confusion noticeable, before he glanced up at his wife with a smug grin. “Of course, sweetheart. If you’ll excuse us, there’s business this morning and I think you had your say last night.”

Aurora nodded obediently and went to put the flowers in water as though in a trance. As soon as the door had shut behind her, Luca’s expression changed to a deep grimace. “Which one of you assholes got flowers for my wife?” He leaned forward onto his elbows, awaiting an answer.

Soon Enzo spoke up with a slight tremble in his voice. “It was me, but it wasn’t because of last night, Luca.”

Luca narrowed his eyes. “What the fuck did you say to me?”

“Her father asked me to get ‘em,” Enzo clarified with a slight cough, suddenly remembering his lines in the play they were subconsciously rehearsing at any given moment.

“Figlio di puttana!” Luca said, smacking the desk with his palm. “He spoiled her and now look how she acts!”  He shook his head with an indignant scoff, turning to look out the window. “Thank God she married a man like me to keep her in her place, right?”

———————————————

“We aren’t in Darby’s territory any more. Where are we going, Luca?,” Aurora asked as the car bumped along the narrow roads. Luca turned to look out the window as though he didn’t hear, second guessing his decision to bring his wife along to the negotiations with the mad baker of Camden Town. However, Aurora would not be ignored. She had played the dutiful wife for weeks so as not to insult his manhood further, but every attempt at moving closer to Tommy Shelby had failed, resulting in multiple casualties. To make matters worse, every man lost was a member of her own family, brought from New York to aid the Changrettas in their vendetta. The idea of losing more men sickened her and she began to consider the possibility that she would have to challenge her husband once more.

Then Luca spoke up, but he only offered a sliver of information. “We’re on our way to Camden Town, alright?” he said before settling back into his seat with a sigh.

Aurora was raised at her father’s elbow watching the deals he made and how he researched his enemies. However, there were things she’d learned on her own as a result of being the only woman in a room full of men. How you had to demure and make them think an idea had been their own. She’d learned the art of manipulation and weaponized it early on as a means of survival. Today called for such an approach.

“An alliance with the Jews? That’s clever,” she praised, hoping her guess was correct. Running a hand along his knee seductively, she waited for Luca to confirm her suspicions.

Luca turned to face his wife, a surprised look on his face. “And how do you know about Alfie Solomons?” 

“He’s connected to the east Boston Jews. But, Darby knows him, of course. Says he’s unpredictable and violent,” Aurora added wearily.

She watched the muscles in Luca’s jaw tighten beneath the shadow of his fedora, knowing he didn’t like Aurora involving herself. Rubbing two fingers against his chin thoughtfully, he dismissed her concern. “I’ve spoken to your father and he approves. That’s all you need to know,” Luca said firmly.

“I wish you would tell me more about today,” she cajoled.

“No, amore. Not this time,” Luca said, clasping his large fingers over her gloved hand and giving her a squeeze that bordered on painful reprimand.

As the car jerked to a stop in front of a dilapidated building in Camden Town, she turned to her husband and took once last desperate chance as they exited the vehicle. “Luca, let me speak to Mr. Solomons. A woman’s touch to the negotiations might be just the thing to keep him from erupting,” she said innocently.

This infuriated Luca and he pulled her back, making her stumble on the rough cobblestones. “Like hell you will. This is my deal!” he spat.

“That concerns my family name and my blood!” Aurora retaliated, batting at his chest with her fists, unable to control herself further.

Luca’s eyes blazed with fury, striking her with full force and causing her to fall to the ground. Landing on rough stone, she sliced her arm as she hit, immaculate clothing ruined in the filthy street.

“Get the fuck up,” Luca commanded through clenched teeth.

Aurora winced involuntarily as she pushed her body forward, feeling the pain in her arm throb as soon as he placed weight onto her hand and blood trickle from her nose. “Vaffanculo!” she yelled, placing her fingertips to her chin and thrusting them toward him. 

Luca leaned down and dragged her to her feet, fingers digging into her flesh as he swore, "You make any more trouble for me and I swear to God you'll die here, Aurora. No one will know the difference if I tell them the Shelbys did it," he hissed in her ear as a small woman with dark hair appeared before them. 

“Can I help you with something?” she asked, looking the couple up and down, hands on her hips with more authority than someone her size ought to have. 

Luca released his wife immediately, straightening her clothes as he painted on a charming smile. “She fell on the cobblestones,” he explained smoothly. “I’m here to see Alfie Solomons. Is he in?” he inquired as he stepped forward, seeming to forget his wife in distress.

“Depends on whose asking,” the woman replied, glancing at Aurora with concern. 

Luca removed his hat as he introduced himself. “I’m Luca Changretta,” he said, extending a hand.

Thoroughly unimpressed by his charisma, the tiny woman tilted her head at him. “And who is she?” 

Luca coughed to cover his embarrassment. “This is my wife, Aurora. She’ll be staying outside,” he said with a pointed look at his wife, who stood, cradling her arm.

“If you want to see my husband, I insist this woman come in as well. She requires medical attention,” Rose said sternly. 

“If you insist,” Luca said, pursing his lips. 

“I insist,” the woman said with a definitive nod. “I’m Rose Solomons, Alfie’s wife. Come in,” she said with a wave of her hand.

“Darling,” Luca said with a sneer, extending his arm toward Aurora.

Aurora pushed past him and followed Rose inside. Luca followed two steps behind, removing a match from his pocket and chewing it ferociously. He didn’t like being humiliated by the Solomons woman and made a mental note to make Alfie pay dearly for it.

As Luca was shown to Alfie’s office, Rose took Aurora to a separate part of the distillery. Her interest was peaked now that she’d witnessed something between husband and wife that felt unsavory. The Solomons’ liked to make it their business to know everything about their associates and this felt like something worth noting.

———————

Rose expected someone quite different from the woman she was meeting today. She’d heard Aurora Changretta was a tigress, someone who never gave an inch to her enemies. However, the woman who stood before her bloodied and broken was not in a position to argue. She might listen to the plea on Rose’s lips so she began in earnest.

As Rose handed over a flannel dipped in cool water, she admitted what she wanted. “I’ll be blunt, Mrs. Changretta. My Alfie has cancer. He’s riddled with it. The doctors say it’s probably from the gas during the war,” she explained with furrowed brow as though she didn’t understand or believe the words that came from her lips. However, Aurora knew them to be true. They were the admission of someone who loved deeply and had not yet come to terms with an imminent loss. 

“I’m sorry,” Aurora responded. “But I don’t see how I can help,” she admitted.

Rose cleared her throat and straightened her shoulders, rising to her full height. “You can get that man out there to go home. Leave us in peace for the days we have left,” she asserted.

Aurora bit her lip to keep a bitter laugh from escaping. Instead she just shook her head. Taking a deep breath she turned to Rose and spoke slowly to make the other woman realize her predicament. “You think I tell him the ways of the world? No, he doesn’t answer to me,” she admitted, dabbing at her wounds. “He has very little use for me these days,” Aurora admitted in a soft whisper.

"I thought your family ran New York?" Rose asked slightly confused.

"And now it's my husband so you see we're bound," Aurora replied with a look of resolve.

Rose took in the sight before her, bruises covered by layers of make up, bones badly healed over time. The limp when she walked inside and the arm she cradled gingerly now. This was a woman who knew suffering and yet there was tenacity in her hazel eyes that couldn't be denied. It was this strength Rose appealed to now.

“You’d die by his hand? Because that’s where you’re headed, love,” Rose warned, recalling her own difficult past. “Won’t you try?”

Aurora paused for a moment, a trickle of bloody water running down her elbow as she washed. This went against everything Aurora had ever been taught. You never spoke against your family, no matter what happened. Her parents ingrained that in her at an early age. However, her parents’ marriage had been one based on love and respect. No matter how many times they reconciled, she and Luca did not carry the same affection.

As she sat in the damp distillery, listening to the distant sound of machinery, she thought of her future with Luca and his intention to crush her beneath him became abundantly clear. He didn’t care for her as he once did. When the money and the resources were gone, he would dispose of her.

Finally Aurora mumbled one word into the darkness of the small room, keeping her voice low in case Luca was nearby. “How?”

Rose inhaled a sharp breath, chin rising suddenly with renewed hope to meet Aurora’s wide eyes, full of questions and doubt. She knew how hard it would be to ask this of kind of trust from a stranger, but if she could convince her to take the first step, the rest would fall into place.

“We get you to Tommy Shelby,” Rose said confidently.

Aurora shook her head violently. “No, please. He’ll kill me.”

“He won’t. He’s not Luca,” Rose promised, rushing the rest of her speech for fear Aurora might bolt in fear. “This vendetta was started by the Changrettas and your husband is using your family to fund his war. Now he’s asking my husband to help. It won’t stop unless we say so. We can stop him, Aurora. Will you join me?” Rose asked, reaching for Aurora’s bloodied hand.

Aurora’s lip trembled thinking of crossing Luca, but she had had enough. If there was one thing her father taught her it was to fight for her own interests and she knew she still had fight within her. 

“Yes, I’ll help you,” Aurora agreed on a shaky breath, reaching for Rose.

“We’ll protect you, I promise,” Rose said, intertwining her fingers with Aurora’s stained fingertips. The blood that tainted her would soon be washed clean.

————————————

It had taken another week and several clandestine phone calls before Aurora could steal away to meet Rose. She’d convinced Luca that she needed medicine for her cuts and he allowed her to leave the hotel though she knew she didn’t have long. Rose knew a man who could help them meet in neutral territory, but it would be brief as Luca sent someone to watch over Aurora whenever she left. With that in mind, Aurora stole away one afternoon wondering if this was all a mistake.

The bell above the door of the chemist rang out and Aurora took a deep breath, scanning the small shop for Rose. The tiny woman stood in the corner, observing a box as though she were another patron and when she spied Aurora she beckoned to her. Aurora felt her heart thundering in her chest as she followed Rose through a narrow doorway, descending a dark staircase. However, it was far too late to reconsider and she marched ahead with as much courage as she could muster.

Aurora soon found herself face to face with Tommy Shelby who paced the length of a small, dimly lit room. She knew him instantly from photographs and descriptions of his deep blue eyes like two pools that could drown you if you stared too long. The moment she entered, she was mesmerized by him.

“You killed my wife,” Tommy said, a stillness coming over his features when he caught sight of his enemy. Aurora sucked in a breath, recognizing the inherent danger facing her. Violent men all had the same deceiving comportment, a snake coiled and ready to strike. 

“Tommy, please....” Rose interjected in a pleading tone, willing the meeting to continue. Rose glanced at Aurora and noticed a visible change in her demeanor, a hardening of her exterior as she refused to show any kind of weakness.

“Luca killed your wife. I only tried to kill you,” Aurora said defiantly, head held high.

A moment of silence passed as Tommy considered Aurora. Then she spoke again, "You misunderstand, Mr. Shelby. I'm trying to end this. It was never my fight," she said softly, feeling the weight of every life lost in service to her and the family.

“If this wasn’t your fight, why the fuck are you supplying your husband enough money and soldiers to overthrow the British empire, love?” Tommy countered.

“Loyalty. I hear that you’re like me when it comes to your family, Mr. Shelby. You would do anything to protect them. I didn’t agree with my husband, but I promised to protect him….”

“Do you honestly think he’d do the same for you?,” Tommy asked, blue eyes icing over to match the chill in his voice. He knew he was being cruel, but he had to test her in this moment to see if she would crumble.

“I have no illusions about our marriage,” Aurora confided on a low breath. She forced herself to make eye contact as she said, “That's why I'm here. Rose told me you might be willing to strike a bargain.”

Tommy scoffed, turning away from Aurora and she worried what she’d been told about his mercy was false. 

“Fucking hell, Tommy. She’s here and she’s willing to talk. Isn’t that enough?” Rose asked.

Tommy turned with a look of warning, “Alright, give him up.”

“What?” Aurora asked.

“Give up your husband and we’ll call it even,” Tommy demanded.

Aurora swallowed harshly, considering the choices at her disposal. Stay and see more bloodshed or end it with one final betrayal. It took only a fraction of a second to see the choice she had to make. 

“An ambush,” Aurora agreed quietly, fixing her gaze on Tommy. “But we have to make Luca think you aren’t expecting him. That he can take the shot.”

A smug look came over Tommy's handsome face. "You are as ruthless as they say, aren't you?" he commented. Then just as suddenly the amusement in his features disappeared and he turned stone faced once more. “How do I know I can trust you?” Tommy asked.

Aurora began to laugh bitterly.

“That’s fucking funny to you?” Tommy asked.

Aurora shook her head as a tear fell from her cheek, the enormity of her decision causing her to fall into a momentary fit of insanity. “He married me and he saw cashmere, cologne, red racing cars…All I wanted was love. It wasn't supposed to be like this,” she sniffed as she looked away from him, trying to catch her breath and regain composure. She pushed the pain away and felt her anger rise up in its place, “I just want out, you understand? I want out from under him," she confided, her whole body beginning to shake. 

Rose approached her and covered her with her shawl. “It’s alright, Aurora. You’re going to be alright,” she promised, looking to Tommy.

“Artillery Square, two days time,” he said with a satisfactory nod. 

------------------------------

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[sleepy-editz]

Eddie was screwed. Like realllyyy screwed. He was late for DND, and he was also late picking up Dustin.

Just great.

He quickly pulled into Dustin’s driveway and ran up and knocked on his door. Dustin opens the door quite harshly and just stares for a few seconds. “You’re late.”

Eddie scoffs. “No dip Sherlock. Let’s go.” He turned around and started the journey back to his car. Dustin yelled back something to his mom and followed.

Dustin lectured Eddie the entire way to the high school. He sounded a bit like Steve. Big boy Steve. The loving and gentle Steve who can bite off a bats head. The perfect haircut Steve. The boy who has a late reaction time Steve. Steve. A boy who would be classified under pretty instead of handsome. Steve. The housewife male. Steve.

Steve

Steve

Steve

“Are you even listening to me?!” Dustin shouts. “What we’re you thinking about? Is it a girl? Is it a boy?” Eddie turned his head so fast that he could’ve gotten whiplash.

“What? No. Nope. No boys in my thoughts. Not a single one.” Eddie spurts out. He sounds like an idiot now. Dustin puts on his dopey smile and just looks at Eddie who is now as red as a cherry.

“Which boy is it? Gareth? Jeff? Jason? Tommy H?” Dustin persisted. He held his hands out to the side while he went down the list. Dustin does that a lot. It’s adorable though.

“Ew no dude. No way.” Eddie responds. He makes gagging sounds which gets a laugh out of Dustin.

“Is it Steve?” This makes Eddie almost have choke. A warm tingly feeling erupts in Eddie’s stomach. Both of his hands gripped the steering wheel.

“No. No. It’s um- it’s not.. Steve.” Eddie stutters. They pulled into the high school and parked.

“So it is Steve? That’s so boring.” Dustin says, rolling his eyes. “You really have a crush on the most popular kid in Hawkins? Come on now Eddie, you gotta at least try and be original.”

“It’s not Steve. It’s not anyone.” Eddie says hopping out of the car. He can feel his face growing red by the second.

“Sure. We’ll see.” Dustin says. He happily skips into the building ahead of Eddie. “Also Eddie, please don’t flirt too much with Steve. You’ll take my best friend. I don’t think I could forgive you if you did.” He laughed at his own joke and went through the doors out of Eddie’s view.

Eddie just stood there. He stared blankly at the doors, reflecting himself. Would he be able to win Steve over? Could he? What would Steve say? He was overthinking everything. Screw this Dustin. Screw you for always making Eddie have to overthink. Screw you for saying that Steve Harrington would just love to fall in love with Eddie. Screw you Dustin for being the best matchmaker out there. Screw you. Screw this. He finally collected himself and went into the building. When he entered everyone just stared at him. “What?” He asked.

“You’re in love with Steve Harrington?” They all shout. While Jeff and Gareth look disapprovingly, Mike looks disgusted, and Dustin and Lucas look like they just solved the biggest mystery ever. Screw you Dustin. It’s horrible how you must tell everyone everything. Now they know that I’ve fallen in love with the hunky yet small Steve Harrington. The smart yet dumb Steve Harrington. The girliest yet manliest Steve Harrington. Steve. Stevie. Big boy. Pretty boy. My lover. My forever.

Steve.

Steve.

Steve.

Everyone’s attention is turned towards the doors when they open. It’s none other than Steve. Holy. Crap. Steve. “Dustin I have to talk to you. It’s.. important? I don’t know I just really need someone to talk too right now.” He says. He turns his attention to Eddie. His curly hair. His rings that were all-too-shiny but just perfect. His blushing cheeks. Not to talk about his outfit. Holy. Crap.

“Do I have to? Go talk to Robin or something.” Dustin said, annoyingly. How does Steve put up with this kid?

“Robin out with Vickie right now. Please just.. come talk to me.” Steve says, almost begging.

“No go talk with Mike or Lucas or even Eddie. I don’t want to talk to you.” Dustin says. Steve shudders and turns to Eddie.

“Can.. can I talk to you?” Steve says. Eddie gives him a slight nod and follows him out the door. Blush crept up to both of their faces.

Eddie was so screwed. Like sooooo screwed.

Part 2?

[lawrencegordons]

hi so here’s some stranger things fanfiction that idon’t want to post on ao3 and i don’t want to write anymor

Dustin’s heels squeaked against the pavement as he dove into the road. He was running with breathless desperation, hands waving over his head to draw Lucas’ attention. 

“Lucas!” he screamed, his voice hiccuping free from his hoarse throat. The bike stuttered to a stop, a confused Lucas glancing over his shoulder to catch the other running towards him. Dustin’s stomach hit the edge of the bike and he bounced back a little, holding his gut and gulping down air. “Lucas,” he repeated, even though the other had turned his full attention to the panting boy. 

High school had poured weight into Lucas’ body. His shoulders had filled out, his jaw had strengthened, a boy meant more for football than sitting around in basements. Dustin just looked like an elongated version of himself with spots growing wildly over the unkempt garden of his face. 

The road was cast in summer, hot beneath their sneakers. Miss Galloway was peeking out from beneath her curtains, blinking into the early morning light at all the commotion. Dustin waved her off, knowing that she was going to talk to his mother about his unruly behaviour lately (it was never smart to piss off the neighbours, but this had been a rather desperate situation). 

“What do you want, Henderson?” Lucas sighed, one of his feet resting against the runners of his bike, clearly eager to speed off as soon as possible. Henderson was a low blow, a way to distance themselves from each other, but the truth was they had been distant for a while. 

“Are you still doing your paper route, man? I thought that was just kid stuff,” Dustin laughed in that squeaky way he’d always seemed to laugh, as if puberty hadn’t quite been gentle with him. Lucas fixed him with a bored stare. 

“This is the point where you tell me what you need to tell me. And you do it quickly,” Lucas instructed, resting an elbow on the bow of his bike. His own eyes were scraping through the neighbourhood, wondering if anyone was going to see them together.

It wouldn’t exactly be social suicide, but…

His eyes still danced. Dustin bounced on his feet. “Do you know what tonight is?” He sounded terribly overeager, his words coming out with a familiar slur. Every noise had always seemed too big for Dustin’s mouth. “Of course you know what tonight is.”

“Of course I know what tonight is.” 

The world was bathed in oranges and blacks, Halloween a distinct flavour over the small town of Hawkins. Lucas’ voice was growing more and more bored, slipping freely into boredom. He was a second away from a yawn (and he didn’t feel any need to mask it from Dustin: let the other see how bored he was...maybe he’d be able to escape sooner). 

“Halloween!” Dustin elaborated, with a dramatic pause, as if Lucas had never spoken. Lucas yawned. 

“You know, I could have just checked a calender and-”

“But it’s a very special Halloween.”

“Are you trying to sell me some Girl Scout cookies here, Henderson? Because I really don’t need you to narrate the month to me.” The papers in his bag whistled as a low breeze slung its way through them. 

Dustin didn’t even have the wherewithal to roll his eyes. Sometimes, he was so blindingly earnest, it embarrassed Lucas. “It’s the Unbringing. It’s five years since…”

“Oh, shut up,” Lucas sighed. He slid from his bike and dragged it alongside himself, trying to keep up a pace that would discourage Dustin from following him (still, he didn’t jump on his bike and rush away - that was his first mistake). “I’ve told you to not bring this up again.” He looked over his shoulder and saw Dustin heaving after him.

“I’m serious. It’s finally here. It might be the time to-”

“Oh, and we’ll raise the dead? And unleash evil spirits onto the world? And perform real life witchcraft?”

“You’re being sarcastic,” Dustin clarified. He caught his hand on Lucas’ shoulder, he reluctantly stopped in place. “I know it sounds stupid. But most stuff in our lives sounds stupid, man. If you tried to explain everything that happened to us, then-”

“Nothing happened to us,” Lucas said. His voice had turned a little soft, his hand resting over Dustin’s for a moment, before shrugging it off. A car beeped behind them and the two boys dragged themselves over to the sidewalk, waving down the car with half-hearted glares. Dustin’s face was kept in uncomfortable silence as his mouth worked, awkwardly trying to capture words from nothing. “Nothing happened to us, Dustin.”

“Okay, man. Whatever you say.” It was that dismissive, needling voice of Dustin’s that always annoyed Lucas. His hand tightened on the handle of his bike, seconds away from fleeing the scene.

This wasn’t unusual: Lucas had gotten used to running away from his issues, much to Dustin’s annoyance. 

“Nothing bad hap-”

“I just need you to pass it along to Mike for me, alright? That’s it, that’s all you have to do.” 

Lucas wanted to ask why his lazy ass couldn’t pass it along himself, but he already knew the answer. There was no reason to bring up bad blood between Dustin and Mike all over again (which meant that Lucas had to be the one putting himself in the firing line, appealing to Mike on Dustin’s behalf). Great. 

“Right,” Lucas sighed, hitching himself back over the frame of his bike. “I’ll consider it.”

“Can you, like, actually consider it, instead of just meeting it? Tonight, just before midnight, in the-”

“Yeah, in the spooky old graveyard, I got it. Do you want me to bring a lamb to sacrifice, too?”

“Do you have any lying around?” Dustin asked, seeming a little too curious for his liking. 

“Go screw yourself,” Lucas huffed, kicking himself off and riding into the middle of the street. Dustin stood, huffy, on the pavement.

“Tonight, Lucas!”

“Just before midnight, I got it, Henderson!” As Lucas drove away, he dug into his bag and threw papers at doorsteps. 

Tonight. Before midnight. Something in his throat felt heavy, a vague strain upon his chest, and it took Lucas too long to realise he was holding his breath.

------

To the Party,

Henderson said… Dustin said… 

Listen, we’re not idiots. Except maybe Mike. We all know what day it is, don’t we?

So, come to the usual place, at midnight. Probably at eleven, actually, so we can set up. Don’t wimp out ‘cause you’re pussies. Just… be there, alright? Might be the last year we do this shit.

Lucas.

He folded the note atop of the newspapers he was throwing at the Wheelers’ residence, the Hoppers’ residence, and the Mayfields’ residence. He scrawled Max, Mike, and Jane along the notes in a scrawl he hoped would be familiar to them.

------

Hopper read the note first, with a confused dint in his brow. It had Jane across the front, but no one had ever accused him of being underprotective. Jane shuffled into the room when he was reading through it the second time, eyeing the note in his hands.

“What’s that?” she asked, voice laced with a quiet thoughtfulness. Her eyes were blown wide, the usual deep-set harrow of her face multiplied in the dark corridor of morning light that slipped through. 

“Something for you,” Hopper said quickly, handing it over. She curled her tiny hand around it, dropping it back to her side.

“You were reading it,” she accused. There was no argument to be had; honesty was best advised. 

“No, I wasn’t.” No one had ever accused him of being too honest. Well, maybe a few girls back in his high school days, but it had been a long time since then. Jane blinked up at him. A few years ago, she would have spared him the benefit of the doubt, but adolescence had made her numb to her father’s lying mouth. Sometimes, growing up was just learning that parents were people, and came with all the same brutal disappointments as anyone else. 

Jane wasn’t disappointed, not really. She wasn’t much of anything anymore. 

She held out an open palm and Hopper slipped it towards her. With a mumble, he disappeared into one side of the house, and Jane disappeared into the other.

-----

When Jane showed up at the graveyard, it was an odd sort of night that had settled around Hawkins. It was a grey hour, where night did not yet feel confident enough to drip into utter blackness. There were no need for costumes here, no need to pretend that Halloween revelry would somehow follow the night.

Her dad had broken up a lot of parties happening around here lately. Tonight, he snoozed away in his recliner, in the middle of the living room, blissfully unaware. He’d read the note and not cared enough to stop her. 

With a sigh, Jane hopped from foot to foot. There were two entrances into the graveyard and Jane had chosen the one at the back. Buried in the forest, the crumbling wall had decayed enough that a hole had formed, big enough for a person to wiggle through. Big enough for a Jane-sized person to wiggle through.

The trees around them left burned-out shadows against the grey wall, the wind causing them to look like nimble fingertips raking through the sky. It was a ghoulish effect, one that Jane couldn’t look at for too long. 

She pushed aside the bush that had overgrown the hole. Thorns slipped against her skin, a familiar tangle of razor-sharp teeth forcing blood to the surface, so she moved to stomp them down instead. It scratched up the bottom of her jeans, but she wasn’t worried that Hopper would notice.

“I think this counts as ecoterrorism,” a voice said behind her. Jane jumped, swinging around on the stranger. She had ripped her bag off in her panic, holding it in front of her like some sort of makeshift weapon.

Lucas stepped out of the shadows and blinked at Jane. Her shoulders were rising and falling quickly, her heart stamming in her chest. There was a little sheen of sweat that had worked over her skin too quickly, her eyes nearly all-white in the darkness. 

“Calm it down, Jane,” Lucas said. Her shoulders slumped down, throwing her bag onto her back again. They stood a little too far apart for natural conversation, but they made no attempt to close all the space between them. Lucas had slid his hands into his pockets, Jane had crossed her arms over her chest. 

“Got your note.”

“Yeah. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Jane murmured, needlessly repeating Lucas’ words. Without the pointed tone that had come with them, of course.

“It’s not me who wanted you to come,” Lucas stepped towards her. Jane made way for him as he ducked into the whole, disappearing into the graveyard. Jane hesitated for a moment before following him, ending up trailing behind him. His shoelaces were undone - but she didn’t tell him that. 

“I wouldn’t have come if…”

“What?” Lucas shouted over his shoulder, even though Jane was close enough for him to hear her clearly. She jogged to keep up with him. 

“I wouldn’t have come if I didn’t get the note.”

“Yeah,” Lucas said. “Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Jane repeated, softly, plucking at the hair tie she’d wrapped around her wrist. The rest of the journey was handled in silence, side by side, two shifting shadows disappearing into the mysteries of the graveyard. 

----

Max had come, daisy-fresh, from a party. Her boots were strapped around pale ankles, wobbly from the scent of alcohol that had rubbed off on her (she’d only had one cocktail to steady her nerves, mind set on the night ahead as if she was already plotting out an escape route). She had a beer can cooling against her thigh, resting against the black fence that circled the graveyard. The front entrance was locked, which meant she was waiting for someone else to show up.

If no one did, then she could leave. No hard feelings. 

Her fingers rubbed at her pocket, searching for the cigarettes she had stolen from her mom this morning. Fuck. She must have lost them at the party somewhere (or, more likely, Ainsley had stuck her greedy fingers into Max’s shorts and fished them out). Her mouth felt a little dry. If her mom had picked up some more at the garage, she’d be able to get a smoke tonight - but that meant there was no way to dim the swell of nerves in her stomach. She scuffed her foot against the floor.

No one was coming. She was an idiot for thinking they were.

A glance was cast over her shoulder, tracking the brilliant shudder of night as it passed over the graveyard. No one. For all she knew, this was a dumb prank.

“What are you wearing?” Mike’s voice made Max swing in place, gaze switching into a glare as it landed on him. 

“It’s Halloween,” she said, feeling stupid for it. Feeling stupider for the look of holier-than-thou bullshit on Mike’s face. Asshole. At least some things never changed. “Not all of us can feel comfortable dressing up as Science Nerd Number 5.”

“Smart,” Mike said, ducking behind her. “Are you doing this?”

“No,” Max responded. This seemed to mean walking further into the graveyard, something that she had just decided against. Believe it or not, the appearance of Mike Wheeler did not make her more eager to adventure into a pitch black graveyard. 

“Right,” Mike said. He had paused beside her, an uncomfortable fidget to his shoulders. “Dustin would probably want you there.”

“Oh, well, if Dustin wants me there…”

Mike’s brow curled further into its wrinkle. “Don’t be an asshole. If you aren’t gonna come, why even show up here?”

Max shrugged. It was all she could offer.

“I’m not going to try to convince you,” Mike said. His mouth opened for a moment like he was about to walk right back against his word, like he was going to throw an argument at her until she was too tired to do anything but follow him, but he decided against it. The night was quiet. There was not enough strength in the world left for him to argue with Max.

Maybe that’s what made her follow him: the quiet of it all. Max had been to enough funerals to know this sort of silence was a warning.

“Can you feel that?” Max asked, wrapping her arms around her shoulders. The night was too cold. 

“I’d prefer if we didn’t talk,” Mike said, which made Max’s lips snap shut. 

----

Dustin had never set up a seance before. In all honesty, the books he had taken from the library were not helpful (and his searches using the computers there had all been blocked; he dreaded to think what Mrs Wembler would tell his mother). So, really, he was just trying to mimic what he had seen in most movies.

Alright, so, there wasn’t a lot of movies that dealt directly with seances. And none came with instruction manuals. But he had a few candles, a kitchen knife in case they needed to draw blood, and a bowl he had taken from his living room. It was patterned with bunnies, which had been his mother’s most recent obsession. 

Dustin had bought snacks, too. That wasn’t for the seance, but… there’d be enough tension without hungry stomachs playing into it. 

Jane and Lucas were the first two that popped into view. Dustin shot to his feet, waving his hands as if they couldn’t see him.

“Dude,” Lucas said, when he was close enough to the blanket Dustin had laid down. His eyes quickly took in the scene, before shaking his head in half-disgust, half-unsurprised anger. “Have a little respect, man. We’re in a graveyard, you don’t have to shout like that.”

“Jeez, sorry,” Dustin scoffed, dropping his hands. 

His eyes moved to Jane. She was hugging herself, curly hair falling against her pale cheeks. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Dustin said. After a moment of blustering hesitation, he threw his arms around her in a hug. She stilled beneath the attention. “I didn’t think you’d make it. I’m glad you did. I didn’t think…” He threw a glance at Lucas over Jane’s shoulder, but he was looking into the distance. “I’m just glad you’re here. Okay? You’re so welcome here.” No one had said she wouldn’t be, which made the words strike harshly against her bones.

“Mike,” Lucas greeted, nodding a little bit in the distance. Dustin stopped hugging Jane (which had already gone on for too long, anyway, though both had been too awkward to say anything). He bounded over towards Mike, clapping him on the back.

“Alright,” Mike said, slouching away from the hand. Lucas tried not to look at Max. Max tried not to look at Lucas. “What’s she doing here?” Mike jerked his head towards Jane, who almost jumped away at the sound of his voice. Instead, she narrowed her eyes into a firm glare.

“I was invited,” Jane said, quietly. She was staring at her shoes, which bore black marks from the dirt. Max was staring at her, too, now, and Lucas was still looking away. 

“By who?” Mike asked. There was something fierce in his voice. 

“Dustin. Lucas. Whoever left the note.” Jane’s voice was meek enough for Max to step in.

“Hey, let’s just get this over with. I’m going to freeze here.” 

Mike shot her a glare, but kept quiet. 

“Yeah,” Lucas said. “I have practice in, like, forty minutes.”

“You have practice this late?” Dustin asked, eyes going wide. “You guys are seriously intense. You’re never not practicing.”

“Idiot,” Max scoffed, taking a seat. “Practice is code for a party. I heard there’s a big one tonight.”

Lucas rolled his eyes, but soon enough they were all settled over the blanket in a haphazard circle. There was an awkward, heavy silence that did not suit them. “Maybe it’s just code for practice. Maybe I don’t need a code for-”

“Are we going to argue the whole time?” Jane said, quietly. Her eyes settled on each of them in turn, a gaze that was almost an accusation; they settled into another silence, but this one was more polite. They had something to do.

“How do we do this again?” Max said, picking some lint from her shorts. “We all hold hands and sing Kumbaya until a demon-ghost tries to take us?” 

No one laughed. “Don’t make jokes about that,” Mike said. His voice seemed like it was teetering onto an explosion, so Dustin stepped in.

“Hey, woah, hey,” he said, glancing nervously between the two of them. “We should start by lighting the candles.” There was a pile of stuff on the blanket that everyone began to reach for. A candle in each hand, taken from their holders, as Max lit them one by one. They moved towards her and danced away, yellow spirits in the darkness. Her hands were chilled; the flicker of the lighter helped. 

Her own was last and she kept it in the holder. The flame caught on the wick, but didn’t take. She tried four more times, but it wouldn’t light. “I guess I’ll just… leave this one to the side,” she said, dropping the lighter into the middle of them. 

“Why do you think it won’t light?” Lucas asked, eyes shifting towards the candle, worry furrowing his brow.

“I don’t know. It’s just a stupid candle, jeez,” Max said, noting how they were all staring at her now, wide eyes and gaping mouths asking questions she had no answers to. “It’s the wind.” But while the night might have been cold, there was no wind to be heard of. Mike looked like he was about to open his mouth again, but Max cut him down with a sharp glare. 

“It’s okay,” Dustin promised. “We don’t need all the candles. I don’t think there’s… a minimum amount of candles. Uh, so,” he said, ruffling around his coat pockets. “We can create a spirit board by spreading out these pieces of paper. I just wrote the alphabet down on them and yes or no. That’d give us more detailed answers. Or,” he said, pulling out a small necklace. “Uh, this is my mom’s. We could use it as one of those… like, things that swing back and forth for yes and no.”

“You brought all this stuff?” Jane asked, poking a little at the swinging necklace. It looked expensive. 

“I just wanted to make sure we were prepared. One could work while the other one doesn’t. We just don’t know.”

“Yeah, because there isn’t anything scientific about what we’re doing,” Mike scoffed. His hair had grown longer over several summers, brushing against his cheeks now; he looked pale enough to pass for a ghost, which made the dark bags beneath his eyes seem infinite. No one asked if he was sleeping well.

They all knew that he wasn’t. That they weren’t - that Halloween always brought sleepless nights and a sickly, odd feeling in their stomachs. 

“Let’s… start with the letters,” Jane said, taking the pieces of paper from Dustin. He yielded them easily, grateful that someone else was taking over. His hands were sweating a little as he rubbed them against his jeans. She laid them out in alphabetic order in the center. “Now… what do we do?”

Dustin cleared his throat, trying to reclaim his voice. “We put our hands on top of something. Does anyone have something we can use? Something that can… move.”

They all reached into their pockets, trying to fish something out. There were mostly crumpled wrappers, receipts, a few hairpins. Max touched at the switchblade in her pocket, but didn’t pull it out. It was cool against her palm. One by one, they all shook their heads.

“Fuck,” Dustin said. “I should’ve brought something. Like a glass. Fuck.”

“We can use another piece of paper,” Jane suggested, ripping off the spare piece that tugged around the no. “It might not be perfect, but…”

“No!” Dustin assured, grabbing at it. “It’s perfect. We all need to put a finger on it.”

Everyone reached out to put a single finger on it. 

“Is this going to do something… I don’t know. Something bad?” Lucas asked, glancing nervously between them all. He watched each face, wondering if he could sense a flicker of support, but there was nothing. 

“It’s better than doing nothing,” Max said, eventually. Lucas looked away from her, down at where his finger laid against the scrap of paper. 

“Right,” Dustin said. “Where do we start?”

“I think you have to do a speech or some shit, man,” Lucas said.

“A speech?”

Lucas twisted his voice to something resembling Dustin’s. “We welcome in any spirits that come to us with good will. Uh, we fucking… wish to communicate with anyone that will speak to us. We mean no bad will. Ill will? We mean for nothing bad to happen to… whoever talks to us. Unless you’re some fucked up demon creature, then don’t bother talking to us,” he said, delving into his natural tone. “We just want to see if our friend Will - Will Byers - if our friend is out there. That’s all. So, come on, whoever is out there. We invite you in.”

Mike jerked his chin in something of a nod. The candle in front of Lucas flickered, went dull, and then sparked more fiercely than before. “Sounds good,” he said. “Well practiced,” he snarked. Lucas sent him a glare that they both held for a moment.

“Okay,” Dustin said, clearing his throat to get the attention back on the makeshirt spirit board. “Where do we… I mean, what question do we ask first?”

“Is anyone here?” Max said, quietly. It was more of a gasp than a question. In front of her, the candles flickered in indignation.

[alphascnsual]

Hudson was far from an open, easily trusting type of person. He permanently had his guard up whenever he wasn't alone or with Daniel and Luca. However, from the moment he seemed to have been embraced by Jonah's presence, he couldn't shake the warm, secure feeling the seemed to gently tug at him.

"What? Thought I'd take you to some cheap movie and try get a blowjob in the back of the theatre and call it a night?" he grinned, clearly not offended or even surprised at the other letting slip that he hadn't expected him or the date to be like this. Hudson found himself ... strangely at ease with Jonah. There was something visibly genuine and sweet about the other, something in his golden, fluffy hair or his sparkling eyes that seemed to reassure him there wasn't any malice within him or his intentions. Funny enough, it wasn't too dissimilar from the aura Daniel had and that probably played a substantial part in why Hudson was being more admittedly open with the other. Daniel was the person he trusted the most in this world and Hudson had never met anyone like Daniel, let alone someone that Daniel had also vouched for.

"No," he said without hesitation, his sense of confidence shining through once more as he shot back a teasing smile of his own, "It's just to make things more fun," he winked. That seemed to be enough to earn a blush and get him flustered. He liked seeing him flustered. And he liked hearing him compliment him. Hudson toyed his thumb between his teeth, smiling and letting the other continue to his amusement. "I like the rambling," he said earnestly, biting his tongue not to immediately follow that up with 'I like you' and thankfully their waiter returned with a bucket of ice with the champagne nestled in it with two flute glasses. Hudson openly gazed at the other while the man poured their drinks, offering him a brief thanks before picking up his glass and offering a gentle clink of their glasses in cheers before taking a small sip, the effervescent liquor mingled with notes of chocolate and strawberries dancing across his tongue as he took it down thinking about how it was completely unusual and unheard of for him to find such interest and charm in someone, especially someone he hadn't really met or spoken to before, but, given that it was a once in a blue moon happenstance, he was happily following his gut on this one.

"So what were you expecting from me that made you so nervous?" he asked, posing it as a semi-serious question but in reality it was a ploy to keep teasing the other, keep him blushing and flustered. "Which one of the rumors made it's way to you? You're a cheerleader, so ... I guess you've probably heard them all," he answered his own question. It was true, there were multiple stories about him that circulated at any given time and, in truth, Hudson encouraged them, sometimes even pretending to do certain things to fuel them further. The way he figured it, the more people feared him or were put-off from him, the less he would have to deal with them. Even his own coach and teammates, aside from Daniel when he was on the team, only dealt with him on a need-to-know business-orientated basis. And that was how Hudson liked it, he liked people thinking he was secretly a serial killer, or someone who dabbled in black arts, or a cannibal, or an egotistical maniac, or a meathead jock or whatever the fuck they could come up with. Hudson nearly never revealed that he was almost always the smartest person in the room and was two steps ahead at any given time.

"Doesn't matter," he shook his head, his lips still curled in a small smile that he couldn't seem to shake. Jonah seemed to make it impossible for him to return to his usual resting-bitch-face. "I don't blame you and honestly, I don't care," he said honestly, taking another swig of the champagne, "I couldn't give less of a fuck what people think," he added bluntly, setting the glass down gently and smoothing out the linen table cloth in front of him before resting his elbows down and then resting his head on his clasped hands, openly gazing at the other. "So you know a few things about me ... but I don't think I've had the pleasure of getting to know much about you yet - other than you have a nice ass and can do the splits," he teased, "Two things which I intend to verify myself later," he added mischievously just as their waiter returned for their food order, "We'll take the 'chef's special'," he said warmly to the waiter, ordering the evening special which involved three courses all prepared by the chef, "Thank you," he chimed as the waiter took their menus and disappeared into the restaurant once more.

After the other had time to tell him more about himself, Hudson decided to follow up with a question that had been on his mind, "So ... I heard you went on vacation with Daniel and Luca recently," he hummed, "And that you all enjoyed a few ... activities together ..." he prompted with a little knowing look. "Welcome to the club," he winked, "I'm interested to know what you think of their ... let's call it 'dynamic'?" he asked, "It's pretty unique and has been quite divisive amongst those who've come into the know," his question was posed a little cryptically as he appeared to hide any indication as to what he wanted to do with the information, "Just between us, of course."

Admittedly, Jonah didn't know much about Hudson's life or his interest other than what glances from afar and rumors could tell him; he had not even been aware that Luca and Daniel were friends with the guy until he'd come up in conversation when they had discussed the idea of this date. It was mostly his trust in his friends' judgment of chracter that caused the cheerleader to give this a chance, despite his conviction that he would leave disappointed. In some ways, this pessimistic outlook was surprisingly atypical for Jonah; while it wasn't a rare occurence that his stubbornness got in the way, usually he was a light of positvity, blessed with too much energy and a dash of naiveté rather than a cynic. It wasn't an issue of smarts, necessarily; he had a sharp enough mind alright, just forgetting to actually use it at times with excitement and enthusiasm drowning out reason and wit. It was an attitude most people seemed to enjoy about the blonde, and yet it had let to him getting hurt several times as well, both physically (constantly being too eager of a puppy was bound to bruise even the bendiest of people) as well as emotionally.

That was perhaps the clearest reason why Jonah tried to convince himself so stubbornly that nothing good could come out of a date with a guy like Hudson, the other's reputation hinting at nothing but heartbreak if he were to get too invested in this. He had a notorious tendency of getting his hopes up, always an optimist, so it was a struggle to manage his expectations, his racing pulse betraying him and giving away that maybe their first few texts had caught his interest after all.

He heard Hudson approaching before he'd even spotted him, the sound of the bike catching Jonah's attention and making him bite his lip, getting mentally ready to roll his eyes at what was surely going to be the other's pretentious arrival. And indeed, Hudson perfectly exuded bad boy biker energy as he pulled up right in front of Jonah, taking off his helmet to reveal those handsome features, hand running through his hair like he was straight out of a movie scene. God damn, this guy was so... so... hot. Jonah couldn't help it; as much as he aimed to be prepared for Hudson to be a total jerk, there was no denying that the guy was worth getting flustered over from a purely physical way. That jawline, that face, the muscular physique that was hidden underneath that leather... and this goddamn air of confidence. As much as he hated the concept of an arrogant fuckboy, the self-assuredness in Hudson's every motion was a major point of attraction for Jonah.

He gave his date a warm, if slightly nervous smile - half out of politeness and wanting to at least give this a shot, but also out of genuine excitement that he couldnt't quite mask or lie to himself about. The chance, however slim, that this would go well, had the blonde's heart fluttering. He reminded himself not to write Hudson off to quickly, to give him a fair shot, to tolerate the cocky grin and cringy line that were sure to come out of the other's mouth any second. But instead... Jonah was immediately taken aback, both by the tone of Hudson's greeting words, the warmth of his compliment... but most of all, that smile. He had only ever seen the other man from at least a bit of a distance, and yet... Jonah couldn't remember having seen him smile like this before. He certainly had never pictured Hudson this warm, this charming. The air of confidence was definitely still there, effortless coolness that did border on a cocky aura... but it felt so very different than he had expected. There was no cringy machismo coming from the biker, instead a blunt yet charming compliment that caught Jonah off guard, his face feeling warmer as he couldn't help but smile. "Well, thank you... You look quite handsome yourself", he responded. As much as he had promised himself not to flatter Hudson's ego, there was no denying his date looked... stunningly hot. And giving out a little compliment seemed more than appropriate; after all, he was holding back his jokes about how good he'd look doing the splits out of his uniform, maybe while feeling the leather of the other's clothes pressed right against his bare skin...

The small details in Hudson's behavior did not go unnoticed by the dancer - the way he didn't wait for an answer to his question before guiding Jonah towards the entrance of the restaurant. The hand on the small of his back sent sparks through the blonde's system; it was obvious that shyness was not part of the other's personality, his confidence and proclivity for taking charge coming through in the subtle ways he spoke and acted. Jonah had to admit, this first impression was going wildly differently than what he had pictured, and he had to give it to Luca and Daniel - his friends seemed to know and understand him even more than he'd figured. If he disregarded the things he'd heard about Hudson, if he just took into account this moment rather than the other's reputation... yes, the guy's whole composure and attitude was very much aligned with what Jonah felt drawn to. This air of unshakable self-assuredness that he had somewhat expected, paired with a charisma that came entirely out of the blue. It made him want to learn more about Hudson, and at the same time, caused Jonah to remind himself to not let his excitement and eagerness get the better of him. DId he want to swoon when Hudson pulled out his chair for him? Yes. Did the other look so incredibly irresistable that it was difficult not to picture him naked and sweaty, those muscles flexing and glistening? ... Extremely so. But he had to keep his guard up, needed to figure out who Hudson actually was - the fuckboy he'd heard about or this alluring stranger romancing him right now.

"It's gorgeous", he agreed in awe, looking around with a smile, eyes lighting up as he took in the view of the water and the ambience of the place as a whole. "My last date was at a Starbucks", he admitted with a chuckle. "I like this so much better. I gotta admit, I... am a bit surprised", he added briefly, hoping Hudson wouldn't take it the wrong way. It was truly flattering to see the other had made a genuine effort in making this rendezvous a nice one; Jonah's past experiences had not always been like this. Dates often felt like compulsory tasks for guys to check off a list so that they could fuck him, and things rarely ever evolved beyond that. He wasn't sure if he'd developed a reputation of his own, or if it was the stereotype of the 'easy cheerleader' at work; sure, Jonah was the last to deny he had a high libido, his constant energy and eagerness maybe contributing to the impression some men might get. But none of that meant he didn't want or deserve to get properly courted, for someone to make an effort and show genuine interest in dating him. It was surprising that it was Hudson of all people who went to these lengths, but maybe, just maybe, Jonah needed to check his own preconceived ideas of the other as well. It seemed only fair.

And indeed, the biker seemed to be much more layered, more multifaceted than Jonah had been willing to give him credit for. He was starting to get the feeling that many of the things he'd heard about Hudson weren't far from the truth, and yet people might be drawing the wrong conclusion. Even the other man's scent, albeit highly alluring, kind of aligned with some of the pictures rumors liked to draw of Hudson. If Jonah closed his eyes, that fragrance of leather, oil and cologne would certainly fit with the bad boy persona that people described - so maybe it wasn't that Hudson was not that, but simply that most people only viewed one side of the guy at a time. The biker. The athlete. The guy with confidence radiating off his every word. And as he spoke about the champagne, Jonah got to see a glimpse of yet another side. The devilish expression on Hudson's lips was anything but subtle, and hearing the other mention the aphrodisiac effect of the champagne had him blush a little, grinning with a bite of his lip as he couldn't quite hide how much he enjoyed the sound of that. "Do you think you need an aphrodisiac to get me into you?", he inquired teasingly, mostly joking, although he was in fact wondering if Hudson could sense Jonah's attraction. "I think you mentioned it briefly, yes", he smirked. "But I don't mind hearing it again. And you look, well... Not to be blunt, but, really hot. Like, I'm sure you know that. But it's true." Gosh, he needed to stop rambling. What ever happened to keeping his eagerness in check? "Sorry about my babbling. I'm... really glad we're here. I'll admit, I was a bit nervous about this date." He wasn't sure if confessing to his prejudice was a smart idea, but Jonah felt that the other deserved some honesty. Besides, letting Hudson know he was causing the blonde's flusteredness by vastly exceeding any and all expections was probably preferable to coming across as a giggling, ditzy blonde bimbo.

[secretfanficwrite]

Practice Makes Perfect

Eddie Munson x Reader (*SMUT*)

Word Count: 3.1k Warnings: AFAB Reader, SEXUAL CONTENT (UNDER 18 DO NOT INTERACT) Request: Do you write smut??? And if so may I request an imagine with Eddie Munson where its girlfriend readers first time and hes gentle and soft with her and maybe scene cut where she does research and surprises him with a good time;) and hes a mess when she does???

Author's Note: Alright y'all this is my first time trying writing smut since I was like 15 cause I figured why not give it a try since I got this request. Wasn't too confident going in, but I went with the flow and this is what we got. Enjoy!

You sat at the head of Eddie's bed, your lip pulled back between your teeth, nervously chewing. Your eyes lingered on the long haired boy, who was preoccupied with his guitar at the foot of the bed.

His fingers ran over the cords smoothly, applying soft pressure to the strings. His hair fell in front of his face, hanging loosely but not enough to disrupt him. His back was hunched slightly, his head turning between looking at his left and right hand as he attempted to learn a new song.

You had been dating for about a month now. Your close friend, Steve Harrington, had introduced you to some incoming freshman, Dustin, Lucas, and Mike, in an effort to get them more comfortable with highschool. Dustin had begged and begged for you to let him introduce you to the infamously disliked Eddie Munson, insisting he was "not as bad as Steve says."

Much to Steve's dismay, Dustin was absolutely right. You and Eddie hit it off almost immediately. His charm and enthusiastic personality pulling you right in.

The first time you had visited Eddie's trailer you were slightly intimidated. Right away you couldn't help but notice the handcuffs he had, hanging from the wall near his bed, bringing the darkest blush onto your cheeks. Thankfully, he didn't notice.

The topic of sex had not even arose in the relationship yet. At most there had been a couple heavy make out sessions in the back of his van after smoking a blunt. They had never carried past that before you both would end up cuddled in each other's arms, falling asleep for an hour long nap.

The thought had crossed your own mind multiple times, but you were inexperienced and clueless. That fact about you, haunting you through your high school career. You just never found the right guy, but this? This felt right.

You began stealing your mom's cosmopolitan magazine's when you knew she wouldn't notice. Reading up on every article about spicing up your sex life to just trying to grasp the basics of sexual pleasure.

It all lead up to this moment.

You swallowed hard before sitting up in your spot, scooting a little closer to Eddie at the foot of the bed. Your arms wrapped around the boys waist and your head leaned forward, softly resting your cheek on his back.

He relaxed into your touch, keeping his focus on the chords he was playing.

You lifted your head up before resting your chin on his shoulder, observing his side profile. His nose curved softly coming down to mold into angular and plump soft pink lips.

You leaned up placing soft kisses on his cheek before slowly trailing them down and along his jaw line. He remained focused, only a small smile played on his lips acknowledging your efforts to distract him.

Your hands snaked lower, hooking under the edge of his tshirt before sliding them under the thin cloth. His skin was soft with a small snail trail of dark curly hair continuing down pass the base of his jeans.

One hand stayed low by this waist and the other slowly traveled up feeling his soft chest hair. You could feel his breathing slowly picking up. Your kisses continued down, trailing towards his neck, his hair getting slightly in your face, but you didn't mind.

His chest shook slightly under your hand as he let out a breathy laugh. "Whatcha doing?" He questioned, his voice low and rough.

You paused, lips resting on his skin as you took in a deep, shuttery breath. "Eddie....I want to have sex" Your voice was barely a whisper. He would've never understood you if the trailer wasn't dead quiet already.

His back straightened in your hold and his head turned to look at you in the eyes. "A-are you sure?" His eyes sparkled and he struggled to keep the small smile from appearing on his lips. It made your heart flutter and your stomach somersault.

You bit your lip once more before slowly nodding. You sat back on your knees to give the boy some room as he began moving the guitar from his lap, leaning it against the chair next to his bed before turning to sit towards you.

His lips were parted softly as he stared at you doe-eyed. "B-but Ive never..." you stared, your eyes lowered to your hands which rested on your lap, picking at the week old purple nail polish.

"Thats okay. We'll just start it like we normally do" He scooted closer to you, resting his hand under your chin and slowly lifting your head back up to look at him.

His eyes had softened and he smiled tenderly before leaning in. Your eyes closed as his soft lips ghosted over your own before you met him in the middle.

He applied a mild pressure giving and taking the perfect amount before you felt his tongue poke out, deepening the kiss. You hands slowly rose up once again, wrapping around the back of his neck, trying to get him closer to you as your body began to heat up.

His other hand rested at your waist, playing with the hem of your shirt. The other came down to the same height. There was a soft banging of his rings hitting one another as his fingers grasped the edge softly, waiting for a sign he could begin to undress you.

You pulled back, breathing heavily before bringing one hand down to help him pull your top up and over your head. You immediately pulled him back in, eager to continue your kiss.

Your mind was swimming with anxious thoughts and the feeling of how his hands left a scorching trail along your skin everywhere they touched.

You couldn't tell if your eagerness was from the excitement of the situation or if you were just so anxious your body was moving too quickly. Lowering your hands to the hem of his own top you latched on before peeling it off his burning skin and past his mane of hair.

You smiled into the kiss an idea pricking into your head before pulling back, "I want to try something" His adams apple bobbed as he swallowed before he nodded softly and your smile widened in return.

You stood up, walking in front of him before lowering to your knees at the edge of the bed. His feet landed on the ground in front of you. "wait y/n are you sure? you don't have to-"

"I want to" you interrupted him, staring up at him with big eyes before he nodded once more.

His hands reached for his belt, undoing it and throwing into the corner of the room.

Your own hands reached up, brushing against the obvious bulge that had formed under his jeans. He sucked in a small breath at the contact, but didn't say anything, letting you set your own pace.

You began unbuttoning his jeans, your hands shaking slightly as you tried to focus. Your mouth was parted enough to aid with the deep anxious breaths you'd been taking and your brows were furrowed in concentration.

Eddie lifted his hips up at the same time you hooked your fingers around the edge of his jeans, pulling them down to rest at his knees. You paused slightly at the sight of his boner only separated by the thin fabric of his boxers.

Reaching out, your handed rested over the material. He was rock hard in anticipation. The thought of what was to come sent the familiar feeling shooting down your body. Slowly you slid your hand up and down his length, teasing him softly.

You stared up through your eyelashes at the boys face. His eyes were lidded, his mouth hanging open slightly as he stared down at you.

Returning your gaze to your hands, they slowly traveled back up before grabbing the edge of his boxers, repeating the earlier action. His cock stood straight up, twitching slightly under your stare.

Your nerves rose again, swallowing hard again before raising you right hand and lightly grabbing a hold of him. His breath caught once more and his eyes fully shut.

You leant forward, hover over top of his cock before gathering a good amount of spit in your mouth. Your lips formed into a whistle shape as you let the saliva slowly trail out and land of the head of his cock, watching it slide down to meet the spot your hand grasped.

Your hand began to slide up and down more easily, making Eddie tense in his spot. Lowering down toward him you placed a soft kiss, hand still working. All you could hear was his hard breathing and swallowing.

Your kisses trailed down the underside of his shaft towards his balls before your tongue slipped past your lips. Licking a long strip up back up to the head of his cock. You felt him shiver.

Without lifting your head again your lips rested for a moment before finally parting and you head dropped down slowly. You eyes closed as you tried to stay calm through the foreign action.

Puffing out your cheeks some you stopped only half way before raising your head back up and sinking back down once again, taking in a little more each time.

"f-f-fuck" the word stuttered out through his lips as he continued to watch you, his hands digging into the bed sheets roughly. The sound making you weak in the knees. His breathing was becoming more ragged each time.

Trying your best to think back to the cosmopolitan magazines, your thoughts landed on one article that sparked your interest in wanting to try this. Your other hand raised from his thigh and traveled up under and between you both. It landed on his balls, nestled in chestnut curly hair, slightly damp from the excess saliva trailing down the side of your lips.

You began to softly roll them over your fingers, continuing to bob your head up and down at a slightly faster pace. Your breathing was rough through your nose, but you were determined to see this boy come undone.

"Oh shit yea" He finally allowed himself to let out a whisper moan that had you holding back a smile.

His left hand came up to rest on the back of your head, gripping your hair similarly to the way he gripped the bed sheets, but he didn't apply any pressure.

The soft whimpers that came next were the icing on the cake, but were ended earlier then you had hoped. The hand gripping your hair, pulled you back. A string of spit connected your open mouth to him and you stared up at him, breathing heavily.

"If we keep going like that, your not gonna get your wish" He smirked softly, reaching his other hand to grab one of yours before helping you up onto the bed once more.

He laid you down by his pillows before crawling over top of you. He kissed you softly as his hands went to your own shorts. He pulled them down slowly, throwing them in the same direction as his belt as you stared up at him biting your lip.

His continued his cocky smirk, staring back at you as he began pulling his rings off, leaning up to place them on the table beside his bed. He kissed you softly before returning to his position, hands traveling down to rest on the front of your panties.

"These are cute" he complimented you gently, trying to distract you from his ring finger traveling down over your panties to your core.

"Oh fuck baby. I haven't even touched you yet" His voice came out as a whisper.

Your skin fired up at the soft touches, barely able to hold in the whimpers that were forming at your own lips from the tension. His other pointer finger ran up and down the inside of your thigh before slowly hooking around the side of your panties that covered your core, pulling them to the side.

You eyes snapped shut, a soft moan being let out from the mixture of cold air and the feeling of his finger grazing the sensitive skin.

He smiled up at you in satisfaction. Two fingers ran around the edge of your opening, purposefully avoiding the area that begged for his touch. Pulling his hand back your eyes opened enough to watch him. His dark eyes peered into your own as he raised his fingers before placing them in his own mouth and gathering them in saliva.

You watched his hand relower and land at you entrance. One finger barely entered you and you were tensing up slightly.

"Do you want me to stop?" His voice was rough, but caring as he paused.

"Fuck no" your voice breaking slightly at your immediate response.

He softly chuckled before sinking one finger into you, turning it up and hitting the soft spot before he pulled it back out and repeated his actions again and again and again.

The feeling had you letting out long, slow moans. Your head was hazy from the quick breathing and pure bliss you felt.

You couldn't help but jolt slightly when the thumb of the hand holding your underwear to the side landed on the familiar bundle of nerves. It was calloused from playing guitar, but aided in the pleasure.

He began slow circular motions, making sure to catch some of your slick. Before you knew it he was adding in another finger to your entrance, drawing a stuttering whimper from your lips.

Your eyes were shut, missing the way he looked up at you smiling.

You eyes parted slightly in confusion as his thumb left the sensitive bud. "Oh Eddie fuck" you moaned out as it was soon replaced by the soft wet texture of his tongue.

He worked slowly, pulling every sound he could from you. Your head was rolled back at this point, your eyebrows squeezed tightly together as you focused on the tight feeling forming in your lower stomach.

You moans began to build in congruence with the feeling. Louder and louder. Your heart beat began to pick up and your hips started lifting slightly. His head and fingers moving with you to keep up. You finally came undone. A loud relieving moan left your lips, you vision blacking out completely and the satisfyingly warm feeling radiated throughout your body.

Eddie continued to work you through your climax, smiling to himself in achievement.

You eyes finally opened. You stared at the ceiling, trying to calm your breathing before glancing down at Eddie. He smirked at you, chin glistening before he brought a hand up to wipe his mouth.

He left you there, climbing off the bed and shuffling through his closet before pulling out a shoe box. Your head turned, watching as he flung the box open and pulled out a blue square wrapper.

You eyes lingered on the other objects in the box, a yellow candle, some black rope, another pair of handcuffs and some other odds and ends poked over the lip of the box.

He left it there before walking back over and kneeling in his original position between your legs. "Those are for the future don't worry" his voice was cocky, pulling your attention back to him.

He ripped the wrapper in his hands and threw it to the floor before rolling the condom over his cock. "Still up for this?" he paused, looking up at you through his eyelashes once more.

You smiled softly, your voice coming out in a happy whisper "yeah"

His smile returned and he lowered onto his hands, crawling over you. His hair hung down on the sides of his face, hands rested on either side of your head. He lowered his head continuing the deep kiss you both had abandoned earlier.

Your legs bent at the knees, resting on either side of his waist comfortably as his right hand traveled down to the grab hold of himself. You watched his face concentrate as he guided himself into you.

You couldn't help, but tense again and he paused, waiting for you to relax before pushing himself in the rest of the way. Both of you breathing deeply and staring into each others eyes.

His hips pulled back once more before slowly pushing forward again. Soft grunts began to sound in his throat as he continued. Your own soft moans harmonized with him as you lifted your hips up, slowly rocking with his movements.

His thrusts began to pick up, hitting deeper and deeper each time. His right hand lowered, grabbing your thigh before hoisting it up over his shoulder, hitting that same soft spot that he did earlier.

His other hand had snaked up under your bra, kneading at the soft flesh.

You had been missing out. The euphoric feeling of being filled to the brim was better than anything you every had achieved on your own.

His hand left your chest before lowering to your bundle of nerves once again. Working in a small circle on the overly sensitive bud. You moaned loudly.

As his thrusts became harder and harder, the head of the bed could be heard, slamming against the wall of the trailer loud enough for anybody outside to hear.

His thrusts and fingers slowly began to fall out of rhythm. You own hand shot down to replace his, determined to not lose the building feeling. His hands grabbed at your hips hard, holding you still as he began to drill into you.

"Fuck Eddie Yes!" You own moans peaked once more, the tightening feeling shooting down causing your walls to contract around him.

"Oh shit. I'm gonna-" He began before letting out a low rough moan and stilling inside of you.

His breath was heavy as he collapsed down on top of you. His warm wet skin stuck to your own and his hair fanned out across your face.

You sputtered, trying to get out the hair that had landed in your mouth. "Eddie your hair" you giggled, trying to wiggle a hand free from under him to move it out of your face.

He rolled over onto his back next to you, arms going up over both of your heads to cool his skin down faster.

"That was awesome" He final spoke, a soft chuckle in his voice.

You turned on your side, head propped in your hand as you both looked at each other. You leaned down to place a soft kiss on his lips. "That is definitely my new favorite activity"

He smiled widely before his hand came up to the back of you head, pulling you onto his chest happily.

******

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