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mypoisonedvine · 2 years

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𝙞𝙩 𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙙 𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙞𝙣 𝙙𝙚𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 • alpha!eddie munson x reader

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 • eddie's chances of being an alpha are quite small. your chances of presenting as an omega, especially while still in high school, are almost none. almost.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 • 10k

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 • SMUT (18+ only, technically dubcon due to heat, omegaverse, unprotected sex), knotting, possessiveness and protectiveness, mentions of pregnancy/slight breeding kink, size kink (alpha!eddie is Large in every way), brief trypanophobia warning, mentions of/implied deceased parent (not reader's they're fine),

“The official term is enhanced sexual dimorphism, sometimes abbreviated as ‘ESD’,” Mrs. Mittelman explained, “but, you’re probably all more familiar with the names for the two enhanced sexes: Alpha, and omega.”

You sighed as you rested your chin on your fist. Health class was always boring, and awkward. Most of all, it didn’t seem very useful. In all of Hawkins, you knew of six omegas and eleven Alphas. Why did the curriculum need to dedicate a whole month to this when you, and everyone you knew, were going to end up not presenting at all and just be betas?

“Due to modern fertility advancements, these sexes are becoming more and more rare,” she continued to explain. “Alphas and omegas, when in a mated pair, are significantly more fertile than a beta pair. However, times are changing: after all, I think all of you have beta parents, don’t you?”

You didn’t even know anyone had raised their hand, until Mrs. Mittelman pointed behind you to someone in the back.

“Yes?” she prompted, and you turned around. You were pretty sure his name was… Freddie? No, wait— Eddie. You’d seen him around, and he was sort of hard to forget with his… ostentatious styling, but you weren’t sure you’d ever heard him talk in class before.

“Uh, actually,” he cleared his throat, “my mom was an omega.”

“Oh!” Mrs. Mittelman nodded, looking a little wide-eyed. “I didn’t realize that. Well, then maybe some of what we’re talking about today will be more familiar to you. I hope you’ll bear with us.”

Was. There’s no going back after presenting, of course, so she must not be around anymore. You saw him look down, and wondered if he regretted bringing it up at all, before you returned your focus to the board where the teacher was pointing to some particularly uninteresting charts.

“The window of development for Alphas and omegas is actually very narrow: about ninety percent of enhanced sexual presentations take place at age twenty-one,” she continued. “The odds of presenting after age twenty-two are so astronomically low, that anyone who turns twenty-three without presenting is immediately registered as a beta. Can anyone remember from this week’s assigned reading—”

Everyone groaned, realizing she was about to spring a pop quiz on the class.

“— what an individual’s odds are of presentation if their parents are an Alpha and an omega?”

A girl in the front row raised her hand, and the teacher pointed to her. “Um, eighty-two percent?”

“Correct!” Mrs. Mittelman smiled. “Okay, what about the odds of presentation if one’s parents were one Alpha and one beta?”

The boy that sat next to you on the right— James Richey, which you wouldn’t know if you hadn’t been paired with him on far too many assignments— raised his hand. “Forty-five percent,” he answered.

“Ohh, a little lower,” she winced with her gentle correction, “anyone else wanna give that a try?”

Intimidated by James’ folly, it took an awkward pause for someone else to take a guess. It was your closest friend in class, and likely in the whole school, Helen. “Thirty?” she proposed.

“Well, twenty-nine, but yes,” Mrs. Mittelman. “What about if the pair is one beta and one omega? Mr. Munson, you should know this one— since it applies to you.”

The whole class turned back to look at Eddie, who was awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. “You see,” he began, “I agree with you that I should know that but, uh, I didn’t exactly… read the chapter.”

Mrs. Mittelman sighed slowly. “Right, um, well… maybe someone else who did can tell us?”

“Twelve percent,” somebody behind you, from the other side, announced, and the teacher smiled.

“Yes! That’s right,” she replied. “Okay, last one: how likely is one to present if their parents are both betas?”

You raised your hand, because this one was the easiest to remember. When you were called on, you answered: “The odds are less than one percent.”

“Yes, good job,” she smiled. “Congratulations! You all passed today’s pop quiz. Your prize is… not having a pop quiz tomorrow.”

The bell rang; everyone reached for their backpacks and sighed with relief.

“Tomorrow, we’ll be covering the rest of the chapter, so if you forgot to read it,” she said pointedly, “now’s the time to do so!”

You didn’t know a lot about the guy— hell, you’d forgotten his name— but you figured Eddie Munson was not going to read the chapter, even when given a second chance. You don’t end up on your third senior year by reading the assigned material. I wonder if it bothers him, being twenty years old and still in high school, you wondered, it would sure bother me.

But that was the last time you thought about Eddie Munson for about two weeks. You didn’t plan on thinking about him again until maybe graduation, which you did hope to see him at, but you were forced to wonder about him when he was absent from class for an entire week. Frankly, you were pretty sure he couldn’t afford a vacation. A rumor had spread that he was in jail for dealing marijuana, but that was all you had to work with. Helen thought maybe he was gone for good, moved back in with some other family— you hadn’t even known before this that he lived with his uncle, so maybe his dad was somewhere out there and he was spending time with him.

All the rumors were dispelled in an instant when Eddie returned. As near-impossible as it seemed, it was even more impossible to deny when you saw it for yourself.

You were ten minutes into the midterm exam for Mrs. Mittelman’s health class when the door opened; in a silent room, it was instinctive to look up, but you choked when you saw him come in. It was Eddie, for sure— that hair and Hellfire Club tee were unmistakable— but he was… different.

Completely different.

He was taller, to the point that Mrs. Mittelman was craning her neck to look up at him (though to be fair, she was already pretty short). He was… bigger, specifically more muscular— his body was straining against his clothes, the half-sleeve of his shirt exposed the prominent veins of his forearm, even his ripped jeans struggled to hold him in anymore.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said quietly to the bewildered teacher, and even when he deliberately spoke softly, his voice was clearly deeper. She handed him a blank exam and he attempted to slip through the rows of desks to find his own seat. You certainly weren’t the only pair of eyes following him across the classroom, or the only one noticing the way he struggled to fit back behind his own desk due to his radical change in size. He cleared his throat and shifted in the chair, starting to take his test— and either not noticing, or successfully ignoring, the stares he was receiving.

At the same time, you and Helen looked at each other with wide eyes, and she mouthed something to you: What the fuck?!

Your entire class was specifically prepared to appreciate the anomaly of probability that this was. Still, statistics be damned, it was clear that in the time Eddie Munson had disappeared, he’d become an Alpha.

Three months later…

“Oh come on,” you rolled your eyes, “that’s bull and you know it.”

“I’m not sure if you really believe that that attitude is going to help you in any way,” Principal Higgins frowned, “but to be completely clear: it will not. Three dress code violations add up to an after-school detention.”

“But these are stupid violations!” you insisted. “It’s not like I was walking around in a mini-skirt— look, this one says my sneakers were untied! That’s ridiculous.”

“Arguing with me is considered disrespect of authority,” Higgins reminded you, leaning in closer, “which is also punishable by after-school detention. I’d recommend that you stop now before you end up with two dates with me this week.”

You shut your eyes to stop yourself from rolling them, but relented. That said, you were playing the interaction over and over in your mind as you sat at that desk in detention, arms crossed and lips curled in a sneer as you imagined really telling him off instead of laying down at taking it.

You jumped when the opening of the door startled you out of your fantasy, and there was Eddie— wow, he was even late to detention.

You looked down sheepishly as he crossed the room and took his seat, but once he was settled in front of you and off to the side, you had your first chance to get a good look at him after his… transformation.

It was a good thing his jacket was sleeveless, because it didn’t look like his arms would’ve fit through the sleeves if it had them. It wasn’t that he was just outrageously ripped now or something, or that he was specifically some outrageous height… he was just big. Alphas were built that way. He towered over nearly everyone in school now; he stopped getting bullied immediately after he came back, that must’ve been a nice perk. Still, for a guy who got so massive and so well-known practically overnight (or in this case, overweek), he didn’t seem that… happy?

You looked down into your lap again. Who were you to judge his emotions? You didn’t know anything about him. It was just that, well, he’d had a reputation for his antics and dramatic behavior before, but lately he was uncharacteristically quiet. He never made a scene in the cafeteria anymore, he never talked back to teachers (which he’d apparently done plenty before, you’d seen it once or twice and Helen said it happened near-daily with Ms. O’Donnell), he was just… existing. Maybe he was finally being normal. The only problem with that theory is that, while you didn’t like to buy into stereotypes, you were confident that Eddie Munson would’ve been among the first to become better behaved after presenting as an Alpha.

You weren’t trying to be sexist, really! Alphas were hormonally predisposed to aggression and impulsiveness, it was just a fact of the matter, especially when omegas or other Alphas were involved. To be fair, that wasn’t really an issue in his case, in a school where literally no other students had ESD. Technically, there was one other Alpha here, but he was a teacher… he was not only mated, but mature, and no one was exactly worried that he and Eddie were going to end up brawling on the lawn or something. Alphas were always fighting over unmated omegas anyways, of which there weren’t any in Hawkins.

It made you wonder why Eddie stayed, if he had no chance of finding a true mate here. Alphas and betas didn't get together very often, for reasons that weren’t explained in much detail in your health textbook.

Torn from your thoughts by the Principal clearing his throat and addressing the room, you looked up quickly. “Now,” he began sternly, “all my regulars know I believe in working detention— labor is good for the soul! And there’s lots of work to do on campus today so you three,” he gestured at some boys in the front, “you’re gonna be in the garden out front with our landscapers. And you four in the back, you’re sweeping up the wood shop before you give our gymnasium a good mop.”

The other students stood, and you glanced at Eddie as you realized he was the only other person left sitting.

“Uhh, you two,” Higgins noticed, “you can go clean the cafeteria. But we’re all out of mops, so, just grab some rags.”

“Rags?” Eddie noticed. ��We’re cleaning the entire cafeteria floor with rags?”

“Oh, not just the floor. Table and chairs too.”

“Hopefully not in that order,” you breathed.

“Get to it,” he snapped, and Eddie gave you a quick look over his massive, hard shoulder before shrugging— god, his neck just seemed thicker when he did that.

Your eyes still found themselves lingering on the hulking mass of his body as the two of you were on your hands and knees wiping the laminate cafeteria floor.

"So," Eddie broke the silence, "you, uh… I haven't seen you in detention before."

"No," you agreed, "this is actually my first time."

"Oh wow," he smiled, "a detention virgin! Don't worry, I'll be gentle."

You snorted, shaking your head as you looked at the floor again, but the off-color joke made you feel a little strange. You blinked quickly and tried to get the image of Eddie being gentle out of your head.

"What are you in for?" he asked.

"Dress code," you nodded.

"Woah! Something skimpy?"

"Not at all," you chuckled, "just, like, ripped jeans and a visible bra strap? Apparently?"

"Aw, that's a shame," he smirked. "I was thinking I missed you showing up in some sweet little number."

You raised an eyebrow at that, but said nothing, mainly because your throat was suddenly a little dry.

"A-anyways," he mumbled, "I'm sorry you're here."

"Ditto," you offered, "but I know you're here kind of a lot."

"Yeah," he sighed, focusing harder on one spot that he rubbed with the rag intensely, "not as much as I used to be, but yeah…"

"Used to be… before…" you pressed.

"Before I… got big, yeah," he nodded.

An interesting way of describing it. Certainly an accurate way.

"Um," he cleared his throat, "I skipped class, that's what they popped me for this time."

"Which class?"

"Shop."

"Oh god, I don't blame you, that's my least favorite class," you hummed.

"Really? People always say they like it cause it's easy," he shrugged, "thought I was the only one that hated it."

"No, it's so annoying!" you assured. "First of all, most people aren't being safe and I'm always on edge thinking somebody's about to lose a finger— and the assignments are so stupid! Building birdhouses and clocks? Like, isn't the whole point of a high school education to be able to get a job so I can afford to just buy a birdhouse for a dollar?"

"I don't mind the part where we build stuff," he admitted, "I just don't like that we have to build it exactly like he says. Why can't there be some room for creativity?"

You nodded in agreement, clearing your throat quietly but not quite getting the catch in it; you were looking at the floor, and noticed that you were seeing spots, but simply tried to blink them away.

"I hate it even more now that I keep accidentally breaking stuff…" he continued, trailing off.

"Accidentally?"

"I'm still getting used to it… I'm stronger, you know."

Was it warm in here all of a sudden? When you first came in, it was a little chilly— normally this room was filled with warm bodies to heat it up, so it was pretty cold when it was empty… or, it had been. Now you were starting to feel your clothes cling to you, face beginning to flush.

"I broke a hammer. Splintered the handle— I guess I was holding it too hard…"

That was when you lost your balance and had to sit on the floor, leaning back against the leg of a table. The orange light of dusk, coming in through the blinds in stripes, was blurry and disorienting. A numb heat started to rush through your body, and the quick shallow breaths that filled your lungs did little to keep you from getting dizzy.

“Hey,” you heard Eddie’s voice— his hand was hesitantly holding your shoulder now, and just that made you soothe slightly. “You okay?”

"I…" you began, but you didn't know what to say. “Eddie,” you said softly, “I don’t… I feel weird.”

His hand moved up to your forehead, and you sighed and shut your eyes to savor every moment of his touch. “Christ, you’re burning up.”

Your hands reached out blindly, grabbing onto his thick thigh through his jeans. You heard him cough slightly. “Something’s wrong, just… just need you to stay with me,” you breathed.

"Um, o-okay," he agreed hesitantly, kneeling in front of you.

It was like a sharp pain— a tightness that twisted inside you— and you hissed in a breath through your teeth as your sneakers slid on the tile.

"Do you need some water?" he wondered, and when his hand cradled your face for a second, you shuddered and relaxed against the table leg behind you.

"No, I just need… I…" you panted. Just touch me more, you thought, though you didn't understand why. Another pang hit your gut and you clutched your stomach, hunching forward with a wince.

"I-I'm gonna get the nurse," he promised, but you suddenly grabbed onto his arms tightly, stopping him from getting up.

"No, don't go," you panted, "don't leave— you can't leave me here, Eddie!"

"Okay, okay! I'm not gonna leave!" he promised, frustrated at first but softening up when he saw how scared you were. "I'm not gonna leave, I swear."

"I don't know what's happening," you whispered under your breath. "God— what's happening to me?"

"You're just…" he began, trailing off, "you're— fuck, I don't know. But I think it's… I don't know how, but I think you might be—"

"Just tell me!" you sobbed.

You were clawing at his jacket, desperate to touch his skin, desperate for anything he would give you. That was when you first felt the heat gather between your legs, a pulse inside you just before a gush of wetness that almost made you worry you were wetting yourself— until you felt it, felt that need arch your back and throb in your channel. It felt like being turned on, it wasn’t like you’d never felt that before, but it was so much more intense that it almost felt like a new sensation entirely. Even though your mind didn't understand what was going on, your body was calling out for him: Alpha, Alpha, Alpha—

Something changed in the air then.

"What did you call me?"

His voice was just as dark as his eyes, and suddenly you stilled. Oh god, you'd said it out loud.

"Say it again," he ordered; for what little you knew about all this, you knew why your body gave into his demand like it couldn't do anything else but obey.

"Alpha," you whimpered, looking up at him. But you knew what he was already— right then, you were realizing what you were. Only omegas were susceptible to an Alpha's voice like that. This isn't possible, this is not possible… I'm too young, my parents are betas, how is this happening to me?

"You're going to be okay," he promised, "I know… I know it hurts. But I can make it better, I can help you."

You nodded, panting, going along with it because you just needed him, needed the help he was promising. You felt dizzy and delirious, but somehow the feeling was sort of addictive— like you craved the cure as much as the sickness. With Eddie here, it was tolerable, even though the waves of pain made you shudder and whine through your teeth.

“I’m gonna help you,” he whispered, again.

You blinked at him, trying to clear the haze from your eyes, and saw the dark shimmer in his own— his pupils had blown out wide, his nostrils were flaring; he kept shaking his head, like he was trying to clear his thoughts, and it made his fluffy hair rustle. “How?” you finally asked.

His hands tightened as they gripped your shoulders, and you clutched at his chest, whimpering under your breath as you felt the strong muscle under his thin shirt and hot skin. “Do you trust me?” he replied instead of answering.

You nodded. “Anything, Alpha, please—”

“Fuck,” he choked, and you gasped as his face buried in the crook of your neck. His nose brushed against your jaw, his mouth was right up against your pulse as he spoke. “I can smell you, you know— I can smell what you are. It’s… I read about it, but I never knew…”

Your eyes had already fluttered shut as you hung off of him, and you could smell him too; you were so overstimulated that it was hard to focus on it, but it was sort of musky and warm and smoky— and sweet. Like a Christmas fireplace with roasted chestnuts and caramel just starting to toast on the stove; it was like a memory you hadn’t lived yet, nostalgia for a home you never had.

You whimpered slightly as he pulled away, reaching out for more of his touch, but he just looked at you with his mouth open a bit to let his heavy breathing pass through. “I— I can help you, I’m gonna help you,” he kept insisting, speaking hurriedly as he opened his belt and jeans. It was slightly disconcerting, but your need was growing and you were in no place to reject his help— not when searing pain bloomed from your gut, crawled up your back and into your mind where it demanded the touch of an Alpha.

Still, you had some sense left in you. As well as plenty of fear; your eyes nearly popped out of your head when they caught a glimpse of his cock. "No— no way," you shook your head, trying to scoot away, "it won't… it can't—"

"It'll fit," he insisted, his grip tightening for a moment on his concerningly-massive erection, "you're an omega. You're made to take it."

Even as terror clawed at your mind, arousal was coursing through your veins; hearing him talk like that, seeing his body, it all called to something incredibly primal inside you. Something you didn't even know you had… technically, maybe you didn't until just now. Or maybe it was always there, waiting for Eddie— after all, you'd presented after being around him for the longest (and closest) you ever had.

"I won't hurt you, I swear," he breathed, but you could hear his desperation, too. It must be hard, presenting young in a town like Hawkins where all the omegas are already long-since mated and married— and maybe a little mature for a twenty-year-old anyways, if that mattered. And as for betas, well, you'd heard that it was… difficult, for Alphas and betas to mate. Now you saw directly why: it could kill them, trying to take this. You were still afraid it would kill you. "It won't hurt, it's… it's going to feel good. It's natural."

"Okay," you nodded, "okay, just… talk me through this, please— Alpha, I'm scared…"

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. It should've been awkward, hugging a relative stranger, but it was so comforting… you sighed and held him, too, a bit of the ache inside you stilling. And yet, your anticipation was growing: you felt another wave of slick start to leak out of you, and you whimpered slightly.

"Please," you whispered, "help me… I want you to."

"Shit," he blurted out, letting you go just long enough to peel his jacket off quickly. "Just lay down, okay?" he offered as he put the jacket down on the floor behind you, not much padding from the hard tile but at least some protection from the coldness of it.

You laid back, shivering as he climbed on top of you. "Have you ever done this before?" you asked suddenly. "Not just sex— helping an omega, specifically…"

It was kind of a stupid question, because where the fuck were these hypothetical omegas Eddie might have been with? But you weren’t exactly thinking straight at the moment, understandably. "Well, uh, no," he mumbled, "but I think I know how to do it. I mean, I think I've always known— I couldn't tell you how, but… I can feel it."

You swallowed nervously.

"Trust me," he insisted. "I know how much it hurts, I… just trust me.”

He was alone when he presented, after all; you finally put that together, and the thought of it inexplicably made your heart twist. You knew nothing of the perils of presentation for an Alpha, but if anything like this… and he didn’t have anyone to hold him like he held you, to tell him it would be okay, to take the pain away… god, how did he survive it?

When he started to lift up your shirt, you did your best to help him— the wave of cool air on your overheated skin was almost a relief, until suddenly you were freezing. You pulled him down close to you, feeling the warmth of him even through his shirt, and sighed happily.

He helped you out of your pants next, and you should've felt incredibly strange being completely naked in your fucking cafeteria. But you didn't, you felt better even, you felt more natural than ever as his eyes drank you in and his hands carefully parted your thighs.

"See, all this— this is your slick," he explained, dragging two fingers through your swollen folds until you jolted from his touch.

There was so much, you'd nearly soaked through your jeans, and just one swipe had soaked his thick fingers with clear, shiny arousal.

"It's gonna help you," he continued, panting slightly as he stared at his glistening hand. "Fuck, you can smell it, right? It smells so good."

You could smell something, but you wouldn't necessarily call it good… it was sort of earthy and sour, not like a perfume or candy or something. Maybe it smelled different to him, or maybe he was just attracted to it anyway.

"I think if Mr. Maxwell was here, he'd be able to smell it— from anywhere in the building," Eddie explained. Mr. Maxwell was the only Alpha teacher at Hawkins High… you were suddenly very thankful he wasn't here. He certainly didn't seem like the type to go after his own student for being a brand-new omega, but what did you know?

"What would happen, if he did?" you mumbled. "If he smelled me?"

Eddie considered that for a second. "I… I don't know. I think he's able to control himself."

Well, that response begged a new question: "Can you?"

You saw his throat bob as he swallowed, his gaze still trained on where your thighs glistened with your need. "I don't know," he admitted. "If you asked me to go now…"

He tensed his jaw, and met your gaze.

"I don't know if I could stop," he informed you sternly. "So don't ask me to, and we won't have to find out."

You shuddered and nodded; you wouldn’t ask him to stop, not when you needed him this badly. Not when the idea of being alone, of being away from him, made your gut sink.

Still, your heart was racing— you wondered if he could hear it, too, since it was deafening inside your own head— as he reached for you, that intimidating cock still curling up from his opened jeans.

He gripped it with one hand, petting your thigh with the other, guiding himself right up against you; your quivering cunt flexed against itself, another wave of slick leaking down to the floor under you— coating him, before he was even inside.

“Trust me,” he breathed, “trust me— please, let me do this. Tell me I can fuck you.”

“Y-you can fuck me, Alpha, please,” you whined.

Holding on tight to your hip, he pushed his thick head inside; you were crooning and gasping already, trying to push down for more even though it was already almost too much, but his strong grip kept you still and perfectly helpless.

“More,” you begged under your breath, “god, please? Wan’ everything, need all of you— Alpha, my Alpha…”

His tongue and lips were all over your neck, hair tickling your chest and face. “So good, omega, you’re doing s’good, just stay still.”

It didn’t hurt until he was halfway in, and you whined loudly as you grabbed at his thigh under your own, hoping to slow him down. He was breathing just as hard as you, hot air spreading over your skin that was wet with his spit now, sensitive from the assault of his lips and teeth.

He didn’t warn you that he was going to give you the rest, he just pushed it in all at once and groaned as you choked out your sob.

"Fuck," he said with a gasp, "I— ah, god— I didn't know it would be like this…"

And neither did you, you didn't know how quickly your pain would fade and your body would give in to him. He was right, it didn't hurt much… there was a sting, yes, and a stretch, but it was good pain. It was pain you were made to take, like he said.

"Are you okay?" he asked breathlessly. You could only nod; words had abandoned you. Well, except one.

"Alpha," you moaned, and you heard him growl beside your neck.

"I'm here, omega," he promised. "I'm gonna give you what you need… you're gonna be okay, you're safe."

You held on tighter to his shoulders, hiding your face in his neck, and he started to move. The stretch was so intense that your legs were shaking with every movement, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything, you wouldn’t give up this friction inside you for the world right now— it was a salve for the pain that had been clawing you open from the inside out, but just as intense as the pain had been, now you had this hunger instead. This… need.

“Feels so good,” you heard him whisper against your ear, “fuck, omega, you feel so good inside, you were made for me. You were made for this, I know— I know you’re mine.”

You nodded quickly, biting your lip. As he held you close and moved inside you, time moved differently— slower, but all at once, like you were stuck in a dream.

Everything else faded away— the fear that someone would walk in, the awareness of where you were and how this happened, anxiety and confusion and pain— and you were just drowning in every sensation: his tongue laving at your neck, his fingers holding your waist tightly, his cock inside you and stretching you. He didn’t say much at first, he didn’t need to, but when you shuddered and another wave of slick leaked out around him, you felt him smirk. “So wet,” he praised, “so good for your Alpha. Do it again.”

You were almost self-conscious about how wet you were, maybe you would've been if it wasn't for Eddie being enraptured by it— he was looking down at where your bodies were joined, amazed as he watched you soak his cock over and over with more of your arousal. You could hear it, the filthy wet sounds somewhat distant and fuzzy in your ringing ears, and your face was hot— your whole head was feverish, really, and your eyes were teary just from how overwhelmingly wonderful it felt.

"Fuck," you heard him grunt under his breath, "it's so— god, how do you feel? Are you okay?"

You opened your mouth to try to tell him that it was perfect, he was perfect, but only a pathetic moan came out; you nodded quickly instead.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered. "You look beautiful like this— so pretty for me."

A pained whine jumped out through your teeth— even though you felt good, his words brought back some of that ache from before, and your back arched up off the floor dramatically.

You were about to relax a bit and lay flat again, until you felt his hand move up your thigh, over your mound where his palm rested while his thumb brushed over your clit. Your body jolted; you were confident you'd never been that sensitive there before.

"Alpha!" you whimpered.

"Shh, it's okay," he soothed, "you need to come— it's gonna help you. You trust me, right? Let me help you."

But the feeling inside you was already pushing you to your limits— his cock was already so deep that it felt like it was going to hit the back of your brain or something.

He rubbed your clit as fast as he could, holding your hips steady with his other hand so you couldn't try to buck away from his touch. You convulsed and moaned, holding onto him with all your fading strength.

“Alpha, Alpha, please!” you sobbed. “It’s— too much!”

“No, you can take it,” he promised roughly under his breath. “Just come for me, let go, little omega— please, let go for your Alpha, this is what you need. You need to come for me— come, right now.”

Shivering and crying loudly, your body went limp— except for inside, where you were pulsing uncontrollably, bearing down on his thick length. It was so intense, it almost hurt, and yet it was your favorite pain you ever felt.

You hadn’t noticed that your hands were grabbing his arm until they let go, leaving just a bit of moisture on his sleeve from the clamminess. “Did you…?” he began to ask. “I mean, is it better now? It hurts less?”

You tried to process his questions, but you were still coming down from it, still catching your breath. “It’s… it’s a little better.”

“You need more?” he asked, and fuck, it was a totally genuine question, but the way he said it…

Nodding, you pulled him down on top of you and buried your face in his neck. “Just don’t stop,” you pleaded, “Alpha— don’t stop, m’gonna be good for you…”

It was impossible to define what compelled you to say that, but it didn’t really matter. Your first orgasm had numbed your body and mind enough to let you just submit to your instincts, to trust not only your Alpha, but your own body and its ability to do what it was made to do. It felt better, when you stopped worrying and accepted your place.

And no, despite what some sexists might say, your place was not beneath. Your place was not serving, pleasing, obeying. Your place was simply in his arms. Your place was with your Alpha.

“I— fuck, I don’t know how much longer I can last,” he admitted lowly. “You just… you feel so good, omega, you’re my omega, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Alpha,” you promised.

“Loved feeling you come on me,” he grunted through his teeth, “can you do it again? If I tell you to?”

“I’ll do— I’ll do a-anything you tell me to,” you stuttered as you tried to swallow past the dryness in your throat from panting so hard.

“Then come,” he demanded again, renewing the movements of his thumb on your clit— but honestly, you didn’t even need it. Just his voice, just an Alpha’s voice ordering you (as well as the overly-sensitive feeling your last orgasm had left behind) was enough to send you over the edge in just a few moments. He praised you all the way through it, every kind word like another shock of ecstasy through your body. “So good,” he said again, rough and deep as he rested his head on your shoulder, “so good for me, omega— feels so good when I make you come.”

You smiled through your exhaustion because it felt so good to make him feel good— to know you were pleasing him.

"You know what's gonna happen, don't you?" he whispered. "I'm gonna… knot you."

"Fuck, please," you choked.

"It might hurt a little," he warned, "but it's gonna— fuck, s'gonna be so good, if you just trust me."

"I trust you, Alpha," you promised. "Want your knot, please…"

“Beautiful,” he grunted as he fucked you harder and faster, “my beautiful omega— mine.”

You whined through your teeth, clutching his shoulders tighter. “Alpha!”

“Whose omega are you?”

“Y-yours,” you choked, “yours, Alpha, Alpha…”

“Tell me again,” he demanded.

“I’m yours! Yours, Eddie—”

He cut you off with a rough kiss right away; you didn’t even question it. You felt him coming inside you and your mind went blank, your body went crazy, your senses went haywire. He was coming inside you, and nothing had ever felt so good. You sobbed with joy, holding onto him tighter as you felt the base of his cock swelling— you already thought you were at your limits, and yet his knot kept growing inside you and you just kept taking it.

“Alpha,” you whispered with the last of your breath.

He couldn't move as much with the knot growing, keeping him buried inside you, but he still ever-so-slightly rocked your body, grinding his hips against yours.

You fell back onto his jacket on the floor with a sigh, panting so hard you thought your chest might not fit all the air you were gasping for. Finally you felt almost like yourself again, almost lucid, though still sort of numb all over; which, considering the incredible fullness inside you, was a good thing.

You tried to adjust your hips, wincing as it disturbed the delicate balance within you. Your bodies were interlocked now, and your returning logical mind remembered that this part might last for a while— that was the whole point, evolutionarily speaking.

“Fuck,” Eddie grunted, finally stilling completely and propping himself up on his arms above you. You watched him catch his breath, admiring the shape of his jaw, the way his lashes looked extra long when his eyes were shut and they fell over his cheeks; you reached up and brushed some hair away from his face, and that seemed to get his attention. “I-I’m sorry,” he blurted out.

“What? Eddie, no— thank you, thank you so much,” you sighed, “the pain’s gone.”

“For now,” he warned. “It’ll come back— if it’s anything like mine was. You’ll need more… a lot more.”

You worried, for a moment, that he was telling you that you needed more than he could give. You couldn’t imagine anyone or anything else helping you now— you needed him, that much was clear. You grabbed a handful of his shirt, and he looked down at that hand on him before he looked at your face again.

“I’ll take you home,” he said.

“Like this?” you panted. “What am I gonna tell my parents?”

“N-no, my home,” he corrected, and you were surprised, yet somehow you soothed at the same time. “I-it’s not much, just a trailer, but you can nest there and I can… I can take care of you.”

Your heart was singing; you’d never been cared for before. You never wanted to admit that you needed it.

You were sort of on autopilot; you’d been gathering random linens and clothes of Eddie’s and piling them on the corner of the bed. You couldn’t say exactly… why, but Eddie explained it was natural. At least when you were doing this, you weren’t so needy that he had to stay and hold you— he could actually go out and get some provisions for the both of you.

He told you that this whole thing could take up to a week, but you could stay here and Wayne was going to find somewhere to crash until you were done; he told you it was going to get worse before it got better, and come and go in waves. Most importantly, he told you that he would do whatever he could to help you.

You could hardly believe he was a near-total stranger to you this morning. There was still an awkwardness there, especially on his part, but you felt this impossible connection with him now— you felt so safe with him, in fact you never felt safe without him. Which was why you smiled with excitement the moment you heard his van pull up outside.

By the time he was at the door, you were already opening it for him. “Hi,” you beamed.

“Hey,” he smiled back, a bit more hesitant.

You reached for the grocery bags. “L-lemme help you with those—”

“Nooo way,” he denied as he lifted them over your head while he stepped past you, “let the big strong Alpha do it, sweetheart.”

The door swung shut and you thought you could swoon. Sweetheart. This kind of shit would’ve made you roll your eyes yesterday. Now you were such a sucker for it, and he was just being friendly.

“Plenty of food for the next few days,” he explained as he sorted the contents of his bag into either the pantry or fridge. “Nothing, you know, fancy, but… it’ll keep your energy up. And mine.”

You watched him, clutching your hands together in front of you, though you weren’t sure what exactly you were waiting on. You just liked watching him, really.

“Oh! I got some ice packs too,” he remembered. “You might get really hot, o-or crampy, so those can help a lot.”

“Okay,” you nodded, smiling. He shut the pantry door that he’d been leaning behind and looked over at you. After a quick moment, he stepped up in front of you, and you tilted your head back to look up at him; he smiled, and reached up to hold your face in his hand.

Looking straight forward, you were right at eye-level with his Hellfire Club shirt. You reached to where it ended, just beside his black faux-leather belt, and you started to lift it up off of him. Smirking a bit, he helped you take it off of him— you immediately held the ball of fabric up to your face, inhaling his scent. You hardly even noticed his toned chest dotted with hair and tattoos, you were too busy realizing you’d just found the perfect final piece for your nest.

You ran to the bedroom and pounced onto the bed, stuffing the shirt in with the other clothes and things, smiling contentedly as you buried yourself in them. A long, deep inhale filled your lungs with the smell of Alpha, and it made everything feel alright.

You felt the bed dip as Eddie climbed onto the mattress with you, and you poked your head out from your little cave. “Doin’ alright in there?” he asked, and you bit your lip as you nodded. “I’ll just leave you be until you need—”

“No,” you interjected quickly, grabbing his guitar pick necklace and tugging him closer. “No, stay here… you were just gone for so long…”

“Yeah, we needed food,” he reminded you.

“But I didn’t like you being gone,” you breathed.

“I thought you were okay with it! You said I could go,” he remembered.

“Y-yeah, but then, you know…” you trailed off. Your eyes wandered over his bare torso, over his arms and shoulders…

When you looked at his face again, he was smiling a little, and he reached up to push his hair out of his face. “But then?” he prompted.

“I just missed you more than I thought I would,” you sighed.

“Yeah?” he hummed, scooting up on the bed to be even closer to you. “I missed you more than I thought I would, too. I probably still reek of you— and your slick.”

You whimpered. “Do I smell like you?”

“You fucking better,” he said plainly, like it wasn’t so hot that your thighs quivered briefly.

He pulled you close to him, pressing your face against his chest; when you breathed in, you got a big whiff of his skin, of the heady scent of your Alpha. It silenced every anxiety in your mind and body, and you realized you’d never felt this comfortable— this safe— in your life. Something instinctive told you that you were going to be protected and loved; you felt whole.

You snuggled into his arms, nuzzling at his chest, and he sighed as he kissed your head. “You’re cute,” he informed you quietly, and you smiled as you looked up at him.

“Really?” you hummed, and he nodded. “You’re… big.”

He laughed. “I’m still getting used to it,” he admitted. “All of it.”

Your eyes drifted to his chest in front of you, and your fingers drew random shapes in his thin body hair— then moved to trace his tattoos. “What’s it like?” you asked. “Going through all this…”

"It's… honestly, it sucks," he laughed lightly. "It's like puberty all over again."

"Fuck."

"But worse."

"God," you whined, letting your head fall onto his chest. "Tell me I'm not gonna have to do this alone."

His hand reached up and pet your head. "You're not gonna have to do this alone."

Your heart hurt as you imagined him doing this alone— of course, presenting is different for Alphas and omegas, they have ruts while you have heats, but it must be similar compared to everything else.

"Are we gonna… do we need to talk about it?" he asked.

"About what?"

"About how we woke up this morning as basically total strangers," he replied. "About how I wasn't even sure if you knew my name. And now we… now I…"

You nodded against him. “It’s weird how right it feels. Like, I know I should be questioning it.” You tilted your head up to put your temple on his shoulder, so you could look at his face. “I know it shouldn’t make any sense. But it does.”

“Maybe it’s always like that,” he wondered.

“Maybe,” you offered.

He kissed your forehead. “Or,” he breathed, “maybe it’s just that you really were always supposed to be mine.”

You didn’t reply to that with words, just a shiver and an arm slipping around his torso to hold onto him tighter. As much as it was far too romantic for anything you were willing to believe, there was a growing mountain of evidence that implied he was right— that you were his from the start. First of all, you presented early, and suddenly, when you were close to him for a while.

His gentle kisses moved in a path down your face, finding your neck and teasing you there carefully. “Do you like being mine?” he asked softly. You nodded as you held onto him tighter, moaning when he dragged his teeth over your skin. “I’m so fuckin’ lucky, got this pretty omega all to myself. Every Alpha’s dream— sweet little cunt in heat to breed.”

He rolled you onto your back and descended on you, pressing his body weight into you, and you spread your legs without even thinking about it.

It wasn’t as bad as the first wave, but it still made you hot and needy, it still robbed you of logical thinking and turned you into a desperate, mewling little thing beneath him. You were too caught up in the dreamy fog of it all to even be embarrassed, to care about begging for him so pathetically— he didn’t even have to make you beg, he never teased you, he gave you everything you wanted. Still, you were a broken record: please, Alpha, fuck me— need you, Alpha, please, please—

“Knot me,” you begged, too, and he groaned as he held you tighter. “Please, s’the only thing that makes the pain go away, please? Alpha, give me your knot, wanna be full—”

“Shh,” he soothed, “I know, I know, baby… but maybe— fuck, maybe I should pull out this time.”

“No, please!” you sobbed. “Feels so good when your knot’s inside me, Alpha.”

“You could… you can get pregnant,” he reminded you thinly, even though it was sort of obvious— that’s the point of all this, biologically. “It’s not as likely your first heat, you’re still just presenting, but… you could.”

“I don’t care,” you breathed, “just please, Alpha, come in me again, please please—”

“Okay,” he promised with kisses all over your face, “it’s okay, I will, m’gonna help you. Just need you to come one more time first.”

“Can’t,” you shook your head, but then again, you’d said that last time and he still made you do it.

“C’mon, omega, just wanna feel one more? You can do it,” he cooed, “you can leak a little more slick with that pretty hole, I know you can, I know— it’s gonna hurt but it’s worth it, just one more…”

You were about to tell him you really couldn't do it, that three was your official limit, even though your heat-brain hated the idea of saying no to Alpha.

"Just one more," he pleaded, "for me, sweetheart?"

And before you knew it, you were nodding and bracing yourself, letting every sensation wash over you even though you might explode from being so overwhelmed. You didn't explode in a literal sense, but you almost felt like you did— it hit you like a train and you sobbed out his name pathetically as you tried to take it all.

His knot swelled inside you a moment later, bringing the only real relief you got from this. Eddie seemed to think that your orgasms were the key to staving off your heat-induced delirium, but it was his that soothed your body and mind the most.

Those moments you spent forced to be near him as you both waited for the swelling to go down enough for him to pull out… those were the moments you could think clearest, but your sanity was wasted on simply laying there letting him coo at you gently, praising you, kissing your face and neck. Those were the moments you really remembered that this was Eddie Munson, that guy in health class, a relative stranger— and everything you needed.

"Oh, it’s all messed up,” you mumbled as you looked up at the pile of clothes you’d carefully arranged on the bed, seeing it had toppled over in the heat of the moment. You tried to reach for it to fiddle with it, but Eddie laughed softly as he guided your face to look at him again.

“Welcome back,” he greeted, pecking the end of your nose with a kiss. “The nest can wait— just talk to me for a minute, please?”

You smiled and kissed him back on the lips— just for a second, until he held your face tighter with both hands and kissed you harder and longer. You hummed into it, feeling him smile against you, and he finally let go to nuzzle his face into your neck. “Your hair is tickling me,” you complained as you tried to sputter enough to get one wayward wavy strand out of your mouth, but he shook his head just to make it even worse; you giggled and turned your face away, still getting pelted with hair as you laughed harder. “Stop!” you whined, feeling his hands hold you at either side to keep you pinned under him.

He only stopped when he suddenly rolled onto his back, holding you tight and pulling you with him— you still couldn’t separate from each other, and so you were laying on his chest and straddling his hips with your weak legs. “I can feel it when you laugh, you know,” he told you, still smiling. “Inside.”

You shivered, holding him tighter. Why was that so hot? You clenched, intentionally, to see if he’d react, and he hissed in a little breath. “You can feel that?” you realized, and he nodded.

You did it again, and he hissed and gripped your hips. “Don’t do that,” he warned, “unless you want me to fuck you again.”

Raising an eyebrow at him, he grinned back at you.

“Okay, wait,” he breathed, “that was basically asking you to do it. Just… wait until the knot goes down, okay? I don’t recover as fast as you.”

You nodded, resting your chin on his chest and blinking up at him as he sighed and relaxed under you. His hands stroked your back, mostly mindlessly, while you found yourself reaching up to play with his hair.

“Are you still gonna want me around?” he asked suddenly, looking down at you again. “When the heat’s over.”

You hesitated, opening your mouth and then shutting it again.

“I shouldn’t ask that now,” he sighed, shaking his head slightly as if frustrated with himself. “You can’t know yet. I guess what I’m trying to say is… if you just want this to be… this, that’s okay. I can help you out and then we can go our separate ways.”

You swallowed thickly; he made it sound easy, but imagining it was impossible. You couldn’t be separate from him, it would be excruciating.

“But, you know, if you wanna… go out sometime,” he stumbled over his words, “a-after this is all over, and we can leave the house again—”

“Are you asking me out?” you realized, eyes widening.

“Um,” he stalled, laughing slightly, “yeah. Trying to, at least.”

“You’re literally inside me right now,” you reminded him, “and you’re hesitating to ask me to be your girlfriend.”

“Woah, woah,” he scoffed as he raised his hands, “I just said a date, let’s not rush things—”

You laughed and shoved his face away in punishment, but he held you by your wrists and sat up, keeping you perched in his lap as he kissed you— both of you still giggling a bit as you moved your lips together.

One week later…

"You understand why your case is so important to us," the doctor explained, smiling politely as he looked at you. "Presenting at eighteen is rare enough, even for someone with a much higher likelihood of having ESD. But with two beta parents… those odds make winning the lottery seem likely."

Eddie had already joked about buying some Powerball tickets, but you still weren't sure if this was all incredible luck or misfortune. That said, you did feel better with his arm around your shoulders; he'd insisted on coming into the exam room with you, despite the exasperated nurse explaining you were meant to come in alone. You were impressed she stood up to an Alpha for as long as she did, but she gave in eventually, and you were thankful for it.

"If you don't mind, we'd like to run some tests," the doctor continued. "If we understand your unique case, we may understand the entire concept of dimorphism better. Would you give your consent for our research?"

You were swinging your legs as they hung off the exam table, watching your bare feet brush against Eddie's shoes; the hospital gown wasn't enough to shield you from the coldness and sterility of the air, and you leaned harder into Eddie for warmth. Looking up at the man in the white coat, you only hesitated a second before nodding.

"We'll need a few blood samples," the doctor enumerated as you sighed through another understanding nod, "and a cervical sample."

"Cervical?" Eddie repeated.

"Yes, from the cervix? It's—"

"I know what the cervix is," Eddie frowned. "How would this sample be collected?"

"Um, well, I would insert a brush up the—"

"Nope," Eddie interrupted firmly, "no, no way."

"I—" the doctor started.

"Nothing's going up anything, okay? Nothing's going… in her."

"I understand that you're feeling protective at the moment," the doctor sighed. "That's a normal hormonal reaction."

You blinked and stared down into your lap, where Eddie's hand was holding yours tightly, just under the plastic bracelet that had your information on it. Name, birthday, patient ID number, and of course, sex. You expected to see an F there, like you always had on any form or ID or paperwork. You were still getting used to what you saw instead: O.

A normal hormonal reaction. Does that mean it's not really real? That it's a phase that passes, and you'll just be strangers again?

You squeezed Eddie's hand, feeling him squeeze yours back; it felt so real now, though. You couldn't imagine life without this, even though that's exactly what your life had been until just a week ago.

"That said," the doctor continued, "she needs to make her own medical decisions. If we feel that your presence is putting her under any duress, and therefore interfering with her right to informed consent and medical privacy, we will have you removed from the premises."

You almost wanted to see them try, three beta security guards versus one Alpha running on mating instincts. But you shook your head and spoke up instead. "It's alright," you interjected, "I— I don't want an internal exam, please. But you can take as much blood as you need."

Even that seemed to frustrate Eddie, who huffed a little and gently squeezed your shoulder, but kept his mouth shut. The doctor smiled. "It won't be that much," he assured, "just a few vials. And a cheek swab, if that doesn't count as internal."

“That’s fine,” you nodded.

When the doctor left to get the tools needed to draw your blood, you laid your head on Eddie's shoulder as he gently played with your hair.

"I don't think that guy likes me too much," Eddie whispered, making you smile and tilt your face into the crook of his neck.

"He's just trying to make sure you're not controlling me," you assured.

"But compared to your parents he's, like, my biggest fan," Eddie added, and you smacked him lightly on the chest as you laughed.

"Shut up," you mumbled, "they don't hate you… they're just trying to understand all this. So am I, honestly."

One of his strong hands came up to hold your face, thumb petting your temple, as he kissed the top of your head. Wayne had been the first to deliver the news to your parents, and you would never have enough money in your life to repay him for being the one to knock on their door and say hey, funny story, your daughter's an omega and she's currently getting her brains fucked out by my nephew, anyways see you in a week when she gets her logical reasoning back and also might be pregnant, toodaloo.

(You figured he found a better way to say it than that, but still, that was probably what they heard.)

It was a couple days before you were stable long enough to go over there yourself, Eddie close by your side the whole time, trying to explain it as best you could in a way they would understand. They, too, had made Eddie leave to speak with you alone— even though it made you feel like you had to leave your heart in the other room— and asked you if somehow he was making you do this. It seemed like no matter what you said, people had trouble believing that Eddie saved you, that you needed him now and that he needed you, too.

Not that you could really blame them, because it wasn't something you could put into words, either. You just felt it. It was basic, natural instinct. It's like trying to explain why you eat multiple times a day or why you have to get up and walk to be able to cross the room.

You were snuggled up in Eddie's arms when a nurse came in, rolling a cart with the essentials for a blood draw on top. You bit your lip when you saw four vials, knowing how those were going to get filled.

"Are you afraid of needles?" she asked.

"I… have a healthy respect for them," you replied, making her laugh a bit.

"That's fair," she nodded, grabbing your wrist and gently pulling your arm so she could wipe down the area she was going to prick.

You turned your face into his chest, closing your eyes, since you figured looking would only make it worse.

As she tied your arm and searched for the vein, Eddie held your head to his shoulder tightly, soothing you gently. "It's okay," he whispered against your head, "you're okay…"

He winced almost as hard as you did when she finally did it, and you knew that this was hurting him, too. You felt the same way when he accidentally cut his finger, or when he told you about some of the more difficult stories from his past; his pain was your pain.

"All done!" the nurse announced with a little too much chipperness as she untied the tight rubber from your arm and taped down a cotton ball to the small dot of a wound.

You exhaled slowly, and Eddie kissed your cheek. "You did so good, sweetheart," he praised.

"That's sweet," the nurse cooed, sweetness quickly slipping into condescension. "I guess you two are mates, huh?"

You wished you had the guts to blurt out the first snarky thing you thought of: No, he's my tax attorney. Of course he's my mate, are you blind?

"Yeah," you offered shyly instead.

"How long have you been going out?" she asked, making conversation half-heartedly as she cleaned up the rolling cart and threw away what she didn't need.

"We haven't actually, uh, had a chance to go on a real date yet," Eddie interjected, making you wince and look down. "Unless this counts— but I was thinking something a little more traditional for our first date than a drive to the hospital and a blood draw."

The nurse made a little face, like she was trying to be nice, not even looking at you. "Well, that's… sweet… I'm surprised they let you back here together."

"Doctor Ali knew it was important to me," you explained quickly.

She nodded. "You're young… everything feels important when you're that age."

"What does that mean?" Eddie snapped.

"Well, it's just that… you know, first love and all," she shrugged.

"You don't get it," Eddie laughed coldly. "You're a beta, you could never understand. It's different for us— we mate for life."

Your throat caught. If that was true, it never came up in health class…

You waited until Eddie was driving you home to bring it up— but you’d been imagining asking about it ever since he said it.

"Do we really…?" you asked, looking down at your hands in your lap as you sat still in the passenger seat. "Are we mates for life now?"

He swallowed, glancing down. "We don't have to be. It's not like every omega stays with the first Alpha they meet— actually, maybe most of them don’t. But that’s how it used to be, back in the day— mates stayed together, always.”

That sounded nice; your heart beat a little faster just imagining it.

“I just…” he began, trailing off and starting over. “I'm starting to wonder if it wasn't a coincidence. Even if it seems pretty random— we didn't know each other at all, before— I think it happened for a reason."

You shivered, but nodded in agreement. “I think so, too.”

"I think you're supposed to be mine."

You smiled, looking down into your lap shyly once again. “I don’t know about supposed to, but… I know that I want to be.”

“Let me remind you, one more time,” he smirked, “that we barely know each other.”

But you knew everything that mattered about each other, and so you smiled to yourself. “I don’t care,” you insisted.

You blinked quickly, looking at him and out the window, when you realized he was pulling the van over. When you were parked on the side of the road, he leaned over the console and held your cheek in one hand as you looked up at him. His face was determined, yet soft; his eyes were even bigger than you remembered. “Do you wanna be my mate? Really?”

“Eddie,” you sighed, “of course— can’t you tell?”

“No, I know,” he shook his head, “I just mean that if we do this— if we really do this, the whole mated pair thing— it’s just you and me, for the long haul. Together.”

You reached up and put your own hand on top of his. “That’s what I want.”

“And I should warn you now,” he added, “that if you let me… I’m gonna breed you.”

You shivered. “I… I want that, too.”

He growled, quiet but enough for you to hear and gasp as it seemed to rattle through your body, as he pulled you into a kiss. You whimpered into it, clutching at his jacket needily until he smiled at you. “Sweetheart,” he whispered, and you shivered again.

“F-fuck, Eddie, can we…? Now?” you asked.

“Here?” he smirked. “In the van?”

You glanced at the back for just a split second, but he noticed, and laughed lowly in that way that made your thighs clench together.

“You wanna get in the back?” he noticed, and you nodded, looking at him again with half-lidded eyes. “I really don’t deserve you— it’s not fair, you know, me having the sweetest omega in the world all to myself.”

“Just take me,” you pleaded, sick of the teasing, desperate for him to make good on that promise to breed you— logic be damned. “Alpha…”

“Shh,” he soothed, kissing your neck instead as you melted into his arms, “m’right here, sweetheart.”

#alpha!eddie munson x omega!reader #alpha!eddie munson x reader #eddie munson a/b/o #stranger things a/b/o #stranger things omegaverse

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the-case-book-of-fanfiction · 9 months

Text

Rain-Soaked Kisses

Ship: Steve Harrington x fem!Mayfield!reader

Summary: Steve hates storms but loves the rain—just another oxymoron of his life, like the secret the kids are trying so very hard to dig up.

Word Count: 6,582 words

Warnings: fluff!!!, sappy & romantic Steve, scheming Dustin & Max, healthy Mayfield sibling relationship, Billy mention, lumax sprinkles, secret relationship, friends to lovers, byler sprinkles, jancy sprinkles

Note: Told in part from the perspective of the kids! Written because it's storming where I am, and I love this weather so much.

☟ Continue below the fold ☟

"Who could he possibly be dating? There's not a girl in Hawkins that wants to go out with him!"

"Well, clearly one of them does!"

Dustin sighed, taking in Max's exclamation. As much as he hated to admit it, she was right. Steve had stopped complaining about bad dates and girls who left quickly; Robin reported he'd completely stopped talking about Leah and Heidi and Helen and the five other girls he'd been on-and-off again with; he walked around with a dopey, happy smile on his face all the time; and he was less and less reliable for rides, instead going on dates with a girl who's name he always pretended to forget.

As impossible as the idea seemed, Dustin had to admit it was a logical conclusion.

But who?

"Robin?" Max suggested.

Dustin shook his head. "Impossible. Steve steadfastedly refuses to date her. It's not Nancy again, is it?"

"Nope—saw her with Jonathan yesterday." Max huffed a sigh. "Maybe we have to...think outside the box more?"

"Who's outside the box? Who hasn't he already tried to date and failed miserably at dating?" Dustin demanded.

Max was silent for a moment too long. Then she said, "Alright, I don't know. I can't think of anyone who would actually go out with him."

"Exactly, neither can I," Dustin said. "We've got to watch him. We need to know who this is."

~❊~

But tracking Steve and his mystery girl down was much, much harder than either Dustin or Max had anticipated.

Without Steve driving them around, getting around town took twice as long as it needed, either in the attempts to find someone to drive them or in walking themselves everywhere. Nancy was either busy or with Jonathan most of the time, which ruled out Jonathan as well, and Robin still didn't have her license.

During yet another slow afternoon of trying and failing to put together the pieces of where Steve was going and with who, the phone rang. Dustin and Max both looked up quickly, scrambling over furniture and Dustin's new cat to beat each other to the phone.

Dustin got to it first. "Hello?"

"Hey, Dustin? It's Robin."

"Yeah, I know it's you, Robin, I can recognize your voice."

"Now's your chance."

"What?"

"Steve just left work—he said he's going on a date. Now's your chance to go find out who he's going out with!"

"Oh, shit!" Dustin turned to Max. "Steve's going on a—"

"I heard," she said. "Does she know where he's going?"

"Where's he going, Robin, did he say?"

"A restaurant, and he changed into a really nice outfit before he left here. And by nice, I mean really nice. Like fanciest restaurant in town kind of nice. Whoever this girl is, he really wants to impress her. And he's obsessed with her, too, he's been smiling all day from excitement."

Dustin scoffed. "And you didn't call us before he left?! Now we have to find out where he's going and how to get there!"

"Well, it's not like I could call you talk about him in front of him! Besides, we do know where he's going. What's the fanciest restaurant in town?"

"Enzo's," Dustin realized. "That's where he's taking her."

"I can guarantee it. If you go to Enzo's, he's going to be there. I'd go myself, but Steve and I'll both get fired if at least one of us isn't at the store right now."

"Thanks, Robin!"

"Good luck, guys!"

Dustin turned around to give Max the details, but she cut him off. "I heard. Enzo's."

"All we have to do is catch them in the middle of their date, and we know exactly who Steve's dating," Dustin said with a grin. "Easy!"

"Yeah, easy," Max snarked. "How are we supposed to get there?"

Dustin paused before he sighed. "Start calling everyone we know with a car, I guess."

Max rolled her eyes. "Like that'll ever work. Nobody's been willing to drive us around so far!"

"Can't hurt to try," Dustin insisted.

"No, Dustin, we'll be wasting time! We should just start walking now!"

But Dustin was already dialing the number to the Wheelers' house. It was answered by Mrs. Wheeler.

"Hello, Karen Wheeler speaking!"

"Hi, Mrs. Wheeler, could I talk to—"

"MIKE!" Dustin flinched at the volume from the other end. Max cringed, hearing the shout from where she stood. "Dustin's on the phone!"

A few seconds later, Dustin heard Mike's voice. "Yeah?"

"Is Nancy there?"

Dustin could see Mike's frown. "What do you want Nancy for?"

"Mike, I don't have time for this—"

"What. For? If this is Keith trying to get a date with her again, I swear that I'll—"

"Oh my God, Mike, no! Steve's going on a date and we need to catch him to figure out who he's going out with! We need Nancy to drive us there."

"Dustin, do you realize how idiotic that sounds? Nancy's not gonna drive you to go spy on her ex and his new girlfriend!" Mike hung up without another word.

Groaning, Dustin tried to call again, but he was met only with the dial tone.

Max rolled her eyes. "I told you it wouldn't work."

"I'm calling the Byers," Dustin grumbled. He dialed the number, but when Joyce picked up, she was talking to someone else in the house and by the time Dustin had gotten out "Is Jonathan there?" he heard the click of the receiver being put back.

"Try my sister," Max said.

Dustin dialed the number to Max's trailer, but no one answered. He shook his head.

"She's probably out running," Max sighed.

"Another run? Isn't that all she does now?" Dustin asked with a frown.

Max shrugged. "She says it helps her...deal with things."

Dustin sensed a can of worms—the kind that most people would avoid, the kind that Max clearly wanted to talk about anyway. So he asked it, when most people wouldn't. "Things?"

Max nodded slowly. "Yeah. You know...the Upside Down, Eddie..." She hesitated. "Billy."

Dustin glanced down at his feet. There was blood associated with all of those memories. He knew they plagued all of them, those who'd survived Vecna and his creatures, and he knew that they all had different ways of coping. Dustin's was research, Max's was music, yours was running.

"She's more like him than she wants to admit," Max said. "At least, she is with the running. Billy, he...he used to exercise to distract himself. She runs."

"Is that a bad thing?" Dustin asked.

"No, it's just... She needs someone in her corner is all. And I don't...I don't think that person is me anymore."

Dustin's heart squeezed in his chest. "Max..."

She shook off his concern. "Come on—we'd better start walking, or we're never going to make it to Enzo's on time!"

~❊~

It started to rain halfway through their walk to Enzo's.

The storm didn't start gently. There was no warning before it started to pour, no flash of lightning or boom of thunder. Just a steady downpour, hard and fast and painful against the skin.

Dustin and Max hid from the weather as much as they could, ducking under store awnings and hiding under outdoor umbrellas as they came across them.

After getting turned around at least twice, they spotted the restaurant's glowing sign. They ran toward it, stopping at the bay windows peering in. They scanned the tables inside. From the parking lot behind them, there was laughter and the slamming of car doors.

"Do you see them?" Dustin hissed. He looked at every face he saw, overanalyzing the back of every head that looked like it might be Steve.

"Are we sure they're still there?" Max said. "It's been, what, almost an hour and a half? Who eats for that long?"

Dustin shrugged. "Enzo's is a fancy place, they've got designated courses and shit. They could still be there."

A car engine revved. "Are you sure?" Max took Dustin by the shoulders and spun him around. "Is it just me, or does that look like—"

"Steve's car!" Dustin hissed. "Shit!"

They raced after it in the rain, Dustin catching sight of Steve through the driver's side window, his hair perfect and a huge grin on his face.

"Is he wearing a suit jacket?" Max asked.

"Did you see who was in the passenger's seat?" Dustin demanded.

Max didn't answer, still staring after the car, her face fixed into confusion.

"Max?"

"Huh? Oh, no, I...I couldn't tell who it was."

Dustin groaned. "Shit! That was our one chance!"

"We'll get another one," Max snapped. "He's been going on dates a lot, right? Robin said so, and he's always gone because he's been on a date. He'll go on another one with her soon."

Dustin sighed. "Good point. Now we just have to wait. Come on—we should call Robin."

~❊~

Max walked home in the rain by herself, hearing her mother fuss that she would get a cold if she kept walking around in the rain without a jacket, but not caring. Louder than her mother's voice was El's: friends don't lie.

Should Max have told Dustin what—who—she saw in Steve's car? Or the fact that she'd seen them going into Steve's burgundy BMW in the parking lot while he'd been focused on the store?

No.

Yes?

It was too late now. Besides, was she absolutely sure of who she'd seen?

Well, yes, she knew you better than anyone. You'd been by her side her entire life. There were pictures hanging in the trailer of Mom in the hospital bed after she'd given birth to Max, but it was you who was holding her, sitting in the plastic chair next to the bed.

The lights of the trailer were on when Max reached it, but only your car was in the driveway.

She pushed the door open. "Hey, I'm home!"

You poked your head out of the door to your bedroom. Your hair was just as drenched and stringy as her own. "Max! There you are, I was worried— Why are you soaking wet?"

"I walked home," she said, shrugging.

You hurried out of your room. "Come on, we need to get you out of those clothes. Mom will kill us both if she finds out we've both been out in the rain in the wrong kind of clothes."

"Where were you?" Max asked as you brought her into the bathroom.

You glanced up at her but didn't meet her eyes. "You couldn't get a ride home?" You left her in the bathroom, running into her room to grab her some dry clothes.

"No—Steve's the only one who will drive us anywhere, and he's unavailable most of the time."

Guilt flashed over your face. Max narrowed her eyes, watching you closely. You didn't seem to notice. "We'll tell Mom we took showers if she gets back before our hair dries." You paused. "You could have called me, you know."

"I did," she said. "You didn't answer."

Your face fell. "Max, I'm sorry, I didn't—"

"Are you dating Steve?"

The question stopped you in your tracks. "Max, I..."

"Are you?"

You sighed, wiping a a hand over your face. You sighed. "Yeah."

Max sighed. "Hand me a towel, please." You did so silently, taking one of your own to towel-dry your hair. "Why didn't you tell me?"

You shrugged. "At first, I wasn't sure if it was a good idea. I mean... I knew I liked Steve, but his track record with girls hasn't been good lately, and I..." You sighed. "I wanted reassurance he wouldn't be gone after a week."

"And after that?"

You groaned, putting your head in your hands. "This is...gonna sound stupid, but... Steve has been everything for you guys. For you, for Dustin, for El, everybody. He's saved you countless times, I watched him stand up to our brother to protect us, even though Billy beat him bloody for it. I didn't...I didn't want to feel like I was taking him away from you all, but I also...kind of wanted him to myself sometimes. And he seemed to want time alone for the two of us, too, so..." You looked up at Max. "And I didn't...want you to feel like I was taking away from you. After Billy..." Your voice caught in your throat.

There it was again. The silence that surrounded death.

"Died," Max whispered. "After he died."

You nodded. "After he died, I know Steve kind of...stepped up for you. I didn't want you to feel like he cared less about you just because I was in the picture now." You laughed shakily. "I know that kind of, uh, backfired. I'm sorry to keep him away from you guys for so long."

Max shook her head. "Stop apologizing for wanting someone that's yours." She breathed out a laugh. "I was just telling Dustin that you needed someone in your corner. I should have known it would be Steve. I mean, he's always been there for the rest of us, why wouldn't he be there for you?"

You looked over at Max. "Just how mad is Dustin that I'm dating Steve?"

"He doesn't know," Max said. "We've been trying to figure out who Steve's mystery girl is for months. He won't tell anybody, so Dustin wanted to try and see if we could figure it out ourselves." She glanced at you. "We saw you guys last night. At Enzo's. Or rather, I saw you. Dustin was too busy trying to peer inside the restaurant to even notice Steve's car."

You made a face. "How can you not notice Steve's car? It's a burgundy BMW for Christ's sake."

"I know!" Max giggled.

You laughed with her for a minute. The lightness in her voice—it had been a while since you'd heard her laugh like that.

After a moment, you said, "So...nobody else knows that it's me Steve is dating?"

Max shook her head. "Not even Robin."

You whistled. "I'm surprised Steve's capable of keeping a secret from her. It's gotta be killing him, I just know it." You giggled. "However...we could have some fun with this."

Max raised her eyebrows.

"If Dustin wants to know who's Steve's dating, he can keep digging as much as he wants." You grinned. "That's gotta be amusing, surely?"

~❊~

The storm that had swept in over a week ago had lasted the whole week, turning Hawkins into a mud patch and its roads into rivers. It let up briefly, leaving behind perfect spring days, only to return with a vengeance the next week—randomly on a Thursday afternoon.

Thursdays had become movie nights at Steve's house, and Dustin had concocted a plan to trick Steve into telling him who he was dating.

Max knew it wasn't gonna work. She had been present when you told Steve about Dustin's snooping and the both of you had decided to continue yanking Dustin's chain. Steve had seemed more excited about it than even you had.

While Steve set up his house for the group of rambunctious teenagers for movie night, Dustin explained his plan to Max in whispers.

"So, I'm going to try talking about Suzie for the first few hours," Dustin started, watching Steve like a hawk while he moved about in the kitchen, making popcorn for the group. "Get him thinking about his own relationship, you know? And then you know how he gets—" He cut himself off abruptly when Steve came into the living room with bowls of popcorn, setting them on the coffee table.

"Any idea when your sister's supposed to be here, Max?" Steve asked. "I thought she was driving you."

Max shook her head. "She said she'd come after she got out of work, but I don't remember when her shift ended."

Steve nodded. He disappeared up the stairs in the next moment.

"You know how he gets when it gets late into the movie and its dark and he's focused?" Dustin continued, picking up immediately.

Max frowned. "Like when he's so focused on something you can ask him a question and he'll either go 'huh?' and make you repeat it or he'll just answer without thinking?"

"Exactly like that," Dustin said. "That's when I'm—"

Steve returned with a stack of blankets. "How many of us are there, again? Twelve?"

"Thirteen," Dustin and Max both said.

Steve tossed the blankets onto the couch. "Go grab five more. Up the stairs, closet on the left."

They went up the stairs, Dustin whispering again before they'd even reached the landing. "I'm gonna ask him who he's going out with when he's like that."

Max rolled her eyes. "You don't know that'll work. He could say 'huh?' and make you repeat the question, like I just said."

Dustin shrugged. "Then I'll ask him something different, wait a little bit longer, and then ask again. He can't do that the whole night. Can he?"

"How should I know?" Max picked up the blankets and started back downstairs. Steve was whistling in the kitchen. "This whole plan is so stupid, Dustin. It's hardly a plan!"

"Do you have a better idea?" he hissed.

Max stayed silent. Of course she had better ideas, but those might make Steve actually tell Dustin.

"That's what I thought," Dustin said, clearly on the wrong path. "We'll stick with my plan." He glanced at Steve's back in the kitchen. "Unless your sister knows who he's dating? They're pretty much best friends now, right?"

Max nodded. "Blame Robin for that," she said, praying her poker face held. "I don't think she knows. I can't see Steve telling her if he hasn't told Robin."

"Fair point," Dustin decided. "Even more reason to rely on my plan."

She rolled her eyes. "Your plan is just going to annoy him until he kicks you out of his house."

"He likes me too much," Dustin said, with confidence Max wasn't sure he should possess—not about this, at least.

When they reached the first floor again, Steve was pacing around the living room, double checking he had everything set up. Max had to admit she liked the set up he had for movie night: the coffee table was set up with bowls of popcorn and a drink tray, there was a cooler next to filled with water bottles and soda cans, he had dragged every pillow in the house to the couch and floor, a fluffy winter comforter spread out on the carpet to make the floor more comfortable, and an egregious number of bagged snacks in a wicker basket.

"I think we're all set, guys," Steve said, surveying the room with his hands on his hips.

As if cued by Steve's motherly behavior, the rain outside grew louder, falling fast against the AC unit in the window. Steve winced.

"Looks like we're going to have to have the volume up high to hear the movie over the storm," he said.

"What are we watching?" Dustin asked.

Steve shrugged. "I dunno. We've got a couple choices in that cabinet over there, plus the stuff Robin's bringing. I think Nance had a movie she wanted to suggest, too, but I can't remember what it was..." His eye caught on the stack of blankets, leaning down to count them.

Dustin dug through the movie cabinet. "Come on, Steve, what are these movies? Why are they all romantic comedies?"

"Because they're my mom's favorite, dipshit," Steve said with an affectionate roll of his eyes.

"There's nothing of value here!"

"Well, I'm not watching Star Wars again, so—"

"It was Star Trek last week!"

"Even worse." Steve looked up at Max and waved her over. She glanced at Dustin, but he was too busy judging Mrs. Harrington's taste in rom-coms to notice her get up.

"Would it be too obvious if I gave your sister my blanket? I miscounted and we're short one."

Max bit back a laugh. "I think Nancy might notice, Robin would definitely notice, but Dustin's still a little too oblivious for that."

Steve huffed a sigh. "Can't have one of them letting it slip. Alright, fine, I'll use mine and give her a different one." He glanced at his watch. "Her shift ended almost an hour ago, she should be here any minute."

Max frowned. "Why do you know her work schedule better than I do?"

He shrugged. "In case she needs a ride to or from work. Can't leave her stranded if her car breaks down again."

A knock sounded at the door. Steve grinned at Max, both of them knowing you had arrived. He rushed to the door, slowing down only when he was within Dustin's sightline again.

You were hugging your arms when he opened the door, your hair wet and stringy, your clothes soaked through. "What took you so long, Stevie?!" you demanded, hurrying through the door. Max pointed to Dustin before you could kiss Steve's cheek.

"Jesus, you're soaked," Steve said, taking in your more than damp appearance. "Did you walk here?"

"No," you said, pointing out the still-open door to your car. "It's just raining hard enough that I got drenched on the run from my car to your door."

Steve slammed the door shut before more water could get inside. "Uh, okay, come on, I think I've got something for you to change into."

You blinked at him, gaze flicking briefly to Dustin. "Oh, no, that's alright, I'll just—"

"I'm not letting you stay uncomfortable and catch a cold in these clothes," Steve insisted. You nodded, all too ready to curl up in one of Steve's sweaters. "Come on—you two, we'll only be a minute. Answer the door if anyone else comes while we're gone."

Steve ushered you upstairs. Max waited a few minutes before telling Dustin she'd be right back, using the bathroom as her excuse, wanting to keep an eye on the two of you and stop you from any funny business. She followed the damp footprints you'd left behind, slipping into the bathroom across from Steve's room and peering around the door. She smiled at what she saw.

You had ditched your wet pants and shirt and were pulling on a pair of Steve's jeans. Steve had his back turned as he dug through his dresser.

"Um...do you need a different bra? I'm pretty sure you left one here last time..." Steve glanced back at you and smiled. "God, you look cute."

You looked up at him, cheeks pink. "You're just saying that because I'm half-naked in your bedroom and the clothes I'm wearing are yours."

Steve shook his head, still smiling. "I'm sayin' it 'cause you're cute." He walked over to you, sweater in hand, and kissed your nose. "You are beautiful, Miss Mayfield." He brushed your wet hair out of your face. "Arms up, honey."

You lifted your arms for him and he tugged his sweater over your head. He pulled you to his chest as soon as it was on, holding you like it was the last time he ever would. Max watched your hand go into his hair, pulling a soft sigh from him.

"Kiss me, Stevie," you whispered, coaxing his head toward your own with your hand.

Eyes closed, Steve obeyed, kissing you softly, chastely. Max heard the movie-perfect sound of your lips parting before you tugged him back down for a second kiss, deeper than the first.

"I love you," he whispered.

"And I love you," you said back. The two of you smiled at each other, sickeningly sweet, and Max wondered if the look on your face was the same one on hers whenever she was with Lucas.

Steve adjusted his sweater on your body one more time. "We should get back downstairs," he said. "Dustin might get suspicious."

You fell back into his arms for another hug. "Okay."

Steve took your hand and slowly lead you out of his bedroom, though he seemed just as reluctant as you to have to let go and pretend to just be friends. "Your sister thought it would be too much to give you my blanket during the movie, but I think I like having you in my clothes more."

You smiled. "If it's anything scary, I'll jump a lot and cling to you and we can blame it on the movie."

Steve grinned. "Let's hope Robin brings a good scary movie, and that Eddie wins the vote tonight, then."

Max shut the door before you could see it was open, making sure it closed quietly, quickly flushed the toilet, and turned on the sink and made a show of opening the door to see the two of you. She glanced pointedly at your hands.

"I thought we were still making Dustin guess," she said.

Steve sighed. "Yeah, yeah, I know." He brought your joined hands to his mouth and kissed the back of your hand before letting you go. "Alright, I'm done now."

The three of you headed back downstairs, Max at the lead and you just behind. Max knew Steve had let you go down the stairs first just so he could watch you prance around in his clothes and run his gaze over you again, but she'd give him a pass, just this once. You did look rather at home in his clothes.

Max watched you while you made yourself at home in your usual spot, in the middle cushion on the Harringtons' couch. In fact, she realized, you looked more like yourself, the happiest you'd been, since Billy had died—maybe even since you'd left California.

Credit where credit was due, Max would have to thank Steve somehow (without it seeming like she was thanking him for bringing you back).

"You want anything?" Steve asked you, tossing you one of the blankets. He set his down on the cushion next to you, then the blanket Robin had claimed on your other side.

"I'm all set," you promised. "Anyone else here yet, Dusty?"

Dustin rolled over onto his back from the place on the floor he'd claimed as his several months back, which he said was the best place to watch the movie from, but Max knew was his spot because it was still close enough to Steve, too. The middle, which was hers, was definitely a better view than Dustin's righthand side.

"Not yet," he said. "Hi."

You smiled. "Hi. Find a good movie?"

"No," Dustin said. "Steve's taste sucks."

Steve narrowed his eyes, picking up a piece of popcorn and throwing it at him. "For the last time, it's my mom's rom-com collection!"

~❊~

Max lay in her spot between Lucas and Dustin, Erica on the other side of Lucas, only half-paying attention to the movie while she braided El's hair, Will and Mike snuggling on the opposite side of Dustin. Max was sure Dustin felt singled out, being boarded by two couples, plus Nancy and Jonathan sharing a blanket and a lounge chair just behind him. Eddie had curled himself up on the chair on Steve's opposite side, covering himself in his blanket to protect himself from the blow of the AC unit.

Robin had managed to snag a new release that had just arrived at Family Video—Tim Burton's Beetlejuice, a movie that had only been out for a few months in the theaters. The kids on the floor had propped themselves up on their elbows, drinks and half-eaten bowls of popcorn in front of them.

Every so often, Max faked a yawn to duck her head back to glance at her sister and Steve. Robin was stretched out across both your laps, and the two of you had leaned together to share both of your blankets after Steve had muttered something about the AC being too cold, only for the others to shout for him not to touch it.

And judging from the way you and Steve occasionally exchanged a look, Max guessed you were holding hands beneath the blanket.

Max turned her attention back to the movie, lifting a small handful of popcorn to her mouth. Not so subtly, Lucas fake-stretched and laid his arm over her shoulders. Giggling quietly, Max snuggled into his side. She heard your amused hum behind from behind her, followed by a small chuckle of Steve's.

As it had the entire movie, thunder crashed outside. While the rain had lightened up enough not to be distracting, the flash of lightning visible through the curtains and the boom of thunder had been frequent and often made the room's occupants jump in fear.

Another boom of thunder announced the power flickering.

Dustin looked back at Steve. "Uh, Steve?"

"We've got a generator," Steve said, but he had sat up straighter and had pulled away from you, his face uneasy.

With the next flicker of lightning and crash of thunder, the power went out.

The group of thirteen sat in the pitch-black room in silence. Lightning illuminated faces briefly, showing Max that Robin had sat up, and that you, Steve, and Eddie were all on your feet.

"There are candles in the study," Steve said, breaking the silence. His voice was wavering, and Max remembered you saying something about cutting a date short due to the storm earlier that week. Was Steve...afraid of storms?

"I'll get them," you said.

"Matches in the drawer next to the sink and lanterns in the sunroom storage cabinet," he continued. "Eds, come on, let's go see if we can get the power back to the fridge and a few lights, yeah?"

"After you," Eddie said and followed Steve out the front door. The pattering rain grew louder as the door opened, revealing a world in grey scale, but still lighter than the inside of the house.

Dustin sat up. "Candles? Why not just use flashlights?"

"Steve only has two flashlights," Robin said. "Working ones, at least. But candles? The Harringtons have plenty of those."

Max followed you around the house, lighting the lanterns as you found them and helping you carry the candles back to the living room.

With the room now illuminated by flickering flame, it was easy to see the worry on people's faces.

"Do you think the whole town's out?" Mike asked.

"No, it can't be," Nancy said, but she didn't sound sure.

Will wriggled out from under his blanket. The look he exchanged with Jonathan was concerned.

"Everybody keep calm," you said, setting a lantern down on the floor at the center of the group. "Steve and Eddie will get the generator running in no time."

Silence fell, still and eerie. You sat beside Max and Lucas, and Max laid her head in your lap, trying to smile up at you. It only took a look for her to know you were lost in your head, in memories of the night Billy went AWOL and had been controlled by the Mind Flayer.

Max took your hand in hers. "It's okay," she promised.

"Mmm," you hummed, but your gaze was fixed on the door; you wouldn't relax until you saw Steve walk back in, unscathed.

The AC kicked back on. A few lights flickered to life and the low hum of the refrigerator filled the room.

Relief filled the room with the sound of an audible sigh. Moments later, the door opened and a waterlogged Steve and Eddie stepped back in.

"Did it work?" Steve asked. Then he heard the AC. "Alright, good." He looked around. "Turn the lights back off—the candles will do until power really comes back."

"Steve, you're drenched," Nancy said, "you're going to catch—"

"A cold, I know," he sighed, glancing over at you. You fought a smile. "Sorry about movie night, guys."

Dustin shrugged. "It was only a matter of time before we lost power. The size of the storm—"

"Oh, shut up, nerd," Erica said, rolling her eyes.

Dustin leaned around Lucas. "Do I need to remind you of the vents?" he hissed.

Erica narrowed her eyes at him.

"Children, children," Eddie admonished with a shit-eating grin that said he knew his chiding was only going to rile them up more.

"Eds," Steve warned, opening the curtains to look outside.

Eleven craned her neck to peer outside. In a small voice, she asked, "Can...can we dance in the rain?"

Nancy hesitated, then said, "I'm not sure that's the best idea, the weather isn't exactly kind at the moment."

Steve looked back outside again. "It's not raining too heavily right now."

El wrung her hands. "Joyce says it's...fun and romantic to dance in the rain."

Robin leaned forward, gasping. "You've never danced in the rain before?"

El shook her head. "Only biked in it."

"We have to go dance in the rain!" Robin insisted, jumping to her feet and pulling Eleven up with her. "It's a...a...a cognitive milestone!"

"I don't think that's the right phrase, Robin," you laughed, but you were also getting up. "Still, I think it's a good idea. Good way to pass the time until the power comes back."

"Come on, Nancy," Jonathan said softly. "Let her have fun. Mom's right. It's fun in the rain."

You took one of Robin's hands and one of Steve's and dragged them into the rain. Robin created a chain by grabbing El, who grabbed Max, who grabbed Lucas. The small group raced out into the street, running through puddles and spinning through the falling rain.

Dustin appeared at Max's side, his hair matted to his face. "It's like the time they were drugged by the Russians," he said, staring at Steve and Robin, the latter of whom was trying to taste the rain.

Max did a doubletake. "When they were what?"

"Don't ask," Erica suggested.

Laughter filled the air as the group danced around each other, twirling each other and splashing through the current of water at the side of the road. Steve tripped through puddles with Robin; Jonathan convinced Nancy to dance in the driveway; Will and Mike splashed each other in the puddles.

"May I have this dance?" Lucas asked, holding his hand out to Max and trying his best to look gentlemanly, which was ruined by the water running into his eyes and making him squint.

"You dork," Max laughed, but she took his hand anyway and let him pull her close, guiding her in a slow dance through the rain. She rested her head on his shoulder and watched as you went over to Steve and Robin.

Steve stopped his fooling around, watching you approach with a dopey, lovesick smile. He held out his hands to you and you took them; he twirled you in the rain, catching you and pulling you close before you could fall in the wet road.

"Careful there," he laughed. Even with his hair plastered to his head, his clothes heavy and hanging off him, you were still looking at him like he was the most beautiful creature you'd ever seen.

Max watched the time slow around the pair of you. She knew you were both completely oblivious, cut off from the company around you, even from Robin's stare as she took in the way the two of you gazed at each other.

Steve swayed you, getting himself lost in your eyes. He cupped your face with one hand, running his thumb over your cheekbone.

Lost in your bubble, neither of you noticed that the others had all stopped to watch, unable to speak and break the spell—not even Dustin, whose mouth hung agape.

You were lost in Steve, Max could tell. Close enough to the pair of you now, she could see you drinking in every detail: the water droplets hanging off Steve's hair and eyelashes, the amazed curve of his open mouth, the gentle swipe of his thumb, the lovestruck look in his eyes, his rosy cheeks so stark against his otherwise pale, cold, and wet skin, the reassuring hold of his arm around your waist.

Max knew what Steve was going to do before it happened, before even you had caught up. He bent his head, slotting your lips together.

Like some magic, divine will, the rain fell a little faster, distant thunder boomed, and lightning splintered through the sky, lighting up the clouds above you and Steve, a dramatic backdrop to a kiss so similar to a first kiss.

Robin whooped first. You and Steve smiled into each other, but neither pulled away, and Max realized you had been aware of your audience the entire time; but keeping it a secret hadn't been worth skipping out on a spectacular rain-soaked kiss.

Mixed in with the cheering was Dustin's incredulous cries of "What?! Max, did you know?!" that she pointedly ignored.

Steve swayed you while the kiss continued, embarrassingly long but adorably sweet. When it finally broke, Steve pressed his forehead against yours.

"I love you," he said, loud enough to be heard over the storm. (Robin shrieked.)

"I love you, too," you giggled. (Robin shrieked louder.)

Steve pushed your wet hair behind your ear and kissed your forehead, then shoved his hand through his own hair to get it out of his face.

"Not what you were expecting, huh, Henderson?" he said with a cheeky grin.

Dustin looked flabbergasted. "How did you know I was— MAX!"

You and Steve burst into a fit of giggles. You snuggled into his chest.

"How is that comfortable? I'm soaked!" Steve asked you.

"Yeah, but it's you," you said. A soft, sweet smile pulled at his lips, barely distracting you from his quiet moan of relief. He squeezed you tight.

"You're going to need to borrow more of my clothes," he said.

You grinned up at him. "I'll happily live in your clothes, Stevie."

A few feet away, Mike sneezed violently.

"Alright, back inside," Steve decided. "That's enough rain for today. I don't need you all getting sick and still needing me to drive you everywhere."

Dustin rolled his eyes. "Are you actually gonna drive us again?"

"If you give my girl the front seat and behave when she's in the car with us," Steve said. "Inside, come on. Go, shoo."

He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, watching the others flee to the safety of his house, then following them in with you. You kissed his cheek as you walked. Max hung back with Lucas, wanting to know what you said about the sudden rain kiss.

"You are perfect, Steve Harrington," you whispered. His cheeks darkened.

"Says you," he said, nuzzling his nose into your hair. "Hey, um... You wanna stay the night?"

"Gotta take Max home," you said. "But...I can come back?"

"I...I'd like that," Steve said. Max wondered if he'd ever been this shy with a girl before.

"Me too," you whispered. Steve squeezed your hip.

Dustin rolled his eyes from the doorway. "Get a room," he groaned.

"Oh, shut up," Max teased. "You're just annoyed you couldn't figure it out!"

Dustin scowled. "You knew! You knew and you were hiding it from me!"

Max shrugged, fighting a giggle.

Steve passed out towels with a warning not to let them get close to an open flame. Halfway through his warning, the power flickered back on—and so did the movie.

The group cheered, but Max watched you and Steve sneak upstairs and come down a few minutes later in dry clothes, hand in hand. She smiled before shaking her head and turning back to the ending of the movie.

And if—no, when—Steve asked her for advice on how to propose to you, Max was going to tell him to do it in the rain.

☞ ❊ ☜

Stranger Things // Steve Harrington

Taglist: {comment and let me know if you'd like to be added to the S.H. taglist!} @ohatropa@nix-rose@live-the-fangirl-life

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see-arcane · 11 months

Text

Lucy and Jonathan

“We met some time ago a man that would just do for you, if you were not already engaged to Jonathan.”

I’ll admit, while it probably wasn’t anything more than an airy throw-in without any real barbs behind it, the inflection on Lucy’s comment followed by the idle advertisement of upcoming character, Dr. John ‘Jack’ Seward, as a higher-up-the-ladder ‘what-if’ prospect, still kind of stung to hear. I know it’ll get sanded back in later chapters because—minor spoilers—context clues will show that Mina, Lucy, and Jonathan have known/been friendly with each other since they were kids, and comments from future letters will show a more mutual regard. So it makes me wonder what the reason for the implied derision was.*

*(Beyond her possibly trying to push Jack in a way that says ‘Nope, No, I Choose Not to See the Crush, No Thank You, Hot Potato.’)

My guess? It’s a bit.

Specifically, a holdover from hers, Mina’s, and Jonathan’s earlier days when all of them had grown into adolescence, social mores started getting hammered in in earnest, and Mina and Jonathan were just starting on their official courtship.

Suddenly, they’re no longer a trio of kids enjoying each other’s company. Now it’s two young ladies—one rich, one poor—and a charming young man—also from a lower class. Considering the period, it would be only too easy for whispers to start flying behind fans and cigars that the young Mr. Harker might consider leveling up his prospects, or that the lovely Miss Westenra, a veritable Victorian Helen of Troy, might idly snatch her low-born friend’s man out from under her nose on a whim. And aren’t they such a pretty picture? Quoting their Shakespeare at each other, so intriguingly close compared to most men and their ladies’ friends…unless there are certain extra friendly circumstances involved, ha ha.

A ribald comment too many from coworkers at Hawkins’ firm and a backhanded compliment or three at the latest spring ball probably shocked Jonathan and Lucy respectively into action. Bonus points if one of the inciting remarks came from some tittering debutante, “Well, I can’t say I’m surprised. You two are so alike! Such sweet bonny things, parroting the Bard at each other, prattling merrily about the latest little outing without stopping for breath. Really, Lucy, he would just do for you.”**

**(Some have wondered if Lucy was nudging Jack toward Mina due to certain similar traits they shared. Some morose aspects, intensely focused, interests in modern technology. You’ll see when you meet him. Either way, it’s another parallel to ponder here.)

Cue Mina having to endure her loved ones defending her honor from being dubbed a victim of romantic betrayal in the most vaudeville manner possible. Though she should expect no less from Theatre Nerds 1 and 2.

When they go out, Mina is permanently sandwiched between them as if they’re ducking behind a red-faced shield. Lucy brandishes a parasol to ensure they’re at least the shaft’s length apart; sometimes she’ll even open it to make sure they’re not swayed by looking upon each other, may Heaven forbid such scandalous temptation! Jonathan sits on the bench with them with his hat pulled down over his eyes for safety’s sake. At least a quarter of an hour at the start of each outing is dedicated to a back-and-forth of:

Lucy, nose up so high she’s looking more at the ceiling than him: Mr. Harker.

Jonathan, checking his pocket watch to see how long he must endure this most arduous company: Miss Westenra.

Mina, head in her hands: It’s been months.

Lucy, scoffing: Months of torment in his presence.

Jonathan, scoffing harder: Agony in hers.

Lucy, on a fainting couch: However can you stand him, Mina?

Mina, about to pull her hair out of its pins: You helped him pick out the ring, Lucy.

Jonathan, picture of woe: Tormentedly, of course.

Lucy, nodding: Agonizingly.

In short, Jonathan 🤝 Lucy:

#they think they're so funny #and they are #lucy westenra #re: dracula #dracula daily #dracula #jonathan harker #mina murray #mina harker

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jazzplusplus · 1 year

Text

1947 - Norman Granz' Jazz at the Philharmonic tour

Coleman Hawkins (ts), Flip Phillips (ts), Howard McGhee (tp), Bill Harris (tb), Hank Jones (p), Ray Brown (b),Jackie Mills (dr), Helen Humes (voc)

#jazz #jatp #coleman hawkins #flip phillips #bill harris #howard mcghee #hank jones #ray brown #jackie mills #helen humes #poster flyer #jazz ads #1947

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pastel-pillows · 3 months

Text

Finally free of Hawkins Billy makes his way back to California after years away where he makes a special stop at his favorite diner.

Word count: 8925

No warnings!

“One all American breakfast, extra bacon, extra crispy, with a black coffee, extra hot. Banana nut French toast with a side of sausage and orange juice and an Ella’s original with water, coming right up.”

The sun had just barely made its home in the sky for the day yet the diner was already bustling, silverware on ceramic plates and chatter mixing into an ambient background noise that mingled perfectly with the wafting scent of brewing coffee and frying foods. Large windows let in unfiltered light to bathe the small diner in a natural glow and despite the early hour, most everyone seemed to genuinely be enjoying the welcoming atmosphere the building was bringing in, content, and some admittedly sleepy, faces all at peace.

“Thanks Hun, you’re the best.” A wrinkled hand held out the menus for you to grab, her other one patting the top of your hand in a silent ‘nice to see you gesture’ as you grab them.

“It shouldn’t be too long of a wait, most of the morning rush has been seated and served.” Tucking the menus underneath one arm you turn your attention to the toddler seated next to the older woman to ruffle his hair. “Would you like some crayons, little man?” Flipping the paper place mat in front of him over you pointed to the drawings and little mazes printed on it, all things he’d seen many times before but was nonetheless excited each and every time you showed him them.

“Here you go sweetheart.” The bell over the door chimed while you were grabbing the cup with worn down and, unfortunately, mostly broken crayons, so you call out over your shoulder that you’d be with whoever had just walked in, in just a minute. “Who’s the lucky person you’re coloring for this time?”

Having known the Hannigan’s from the summers you’d spent with your grandmother, you’d become quite familiar with their kids and in turn their grandkids and had several juice-stained pieces from Jackson pinned to the fridge in the kitchen of the restaurant. You didn’t get to hear his answer, the door chiming once more covering up the gentle reply from the timid kid so you just nod to pretend that you’d heard what he said and then promised to be back soon with their food and to check on his masterpiece.

By the time you made it back to the podium up front, no one was there to be found. A quick scan told you that whoever had come in had either gone to the counter to pick up an order or had gotten too impatient and simply left.

“He already left, sweetheart. Grabbed some pastries and booked it.” Helen reading your searching face gestures to the small glass display to illustrate her point. “Must’ve been on the road and in a hurry, I didn’t recognize his face, real quiet kid too, he didn't say much.”

“Thanks for taking him, I got caught up talking to Jackson about his art.”

“If only I was thirty years younger, he was a cute little thing.” Helen waves away your thanks in favor of cooing over the mystery man with the sweet tooth and how she would’ve eaten him up back in her day.

“Your mailman is going to be heartbroken.” You shoot a quick glance over the counter to see Sabino still cooking and take the chance to lean over the counter and gossip about Helen’s love life. “ The sailor, too.”

“Honey, there is plenty of me to go around, even at my age a good time is a good time. You should really be getting out there too, we can manage a shift or two without you, you know? The place isn’t going to crumble if it’s just us and you need to have fun while you’re young.” In between stories of her rendezvous Helen loved to urge you to follow in her footsteps and take the good that was offered, or at the very least spend time anywhere that wouldn’t leave you smelling of burnt coffee and fried foods. Her own kids had grown and left some time ago and she’d taken to you with an almost maternal, maybe more older sister role and was no stranger to worrying over you.

A pair of plates scraping as they slid across the tiled ledge drags your sight from Helen’s scrutinizing, albeit well-meaning gaze to a plate of French toast stacked sky high with whip cream, chopped nuts, bananas and powdered sugar and a much more modest one of eggs, hash browns and bacon. “Better get that, Jackson hates when the whip cream melts before he can eat it.”

It wasn’t that you weren’t interested in going out; California was thriving –the place to be with seemingly new things coming out every day, but you needed to save. A car wasn’t going to buy itself and waking up at four every morning to catch the bus to make it to the diner on time wasn’t something you wanted to do forever and as much as you like rooming with Lisa, a place of your own was eventually the goal.

Your shift passes slowly after that, thoughts of what girls your age were doing occupying your mind, daydreams of nights out and shopping trips mixing with the fried scent of reuben sandwiches and chicken tenders as the morning crowd bled into the afternoon lunch rush.

Helen’s words left you longing for both the things you were missing out on and the parties you’d gone to in high school. You hadn't realized just how much you’d missed having simple mindless fun until today. The memories of his laughter echoed in the back of your head through your afternoon chores and well into the evening, your dreams were water colored that night, pretty but distant and just out of reach.

“Morning Hun.” Sabino, the only person to get there earlier than you, sat at an empty table with a mixing bowl full of fruit loops in front of him and a steaming cup of coffee which he slides to empty space on the other side for you to enjoy.

Sliding into the seat, you lay your head down on the table and wrap your palms around the warm ceramic to both enjoy the last dregs of sleepiness and allow yourself to fully let the approaching work day settle in in the peace of the morning. After a good ten minutes had passed, the bell on the front door chimes once, then twice– and finally a third time to let you know Helen, Marie and Dennis had made their way in and that it was time to chug your now lukewarm coffee and start getting things ready.

The morning prep goes fairly painlessly and as the sun creeps up people began to trickle in, all of them just as heavily lidded and reluctant to leave the cozy promise of beds and sleep that came with nightfall as you had been, but perking up at the smell of coffee and grilling bacon that saturated the air .

“Welcome to Cecil’s, will you be dining with us or ordering to go?” It was barely fifteen minutes past the hour when the bell chimes signaling another customer had come ambling in. Marie was hosting today and you can just barely hear her greeting the patron with an enthusiasm that could only come from someone who was as new to the workforce as she was, fresh faced and eager with everything ahead of her.

There was a longer than usual pause and you heard Marie speak again. “Sir?” Just a few more seconds pass and a deeper voice responds with three words that had you craning your head to peek around the corner where you’d been setting out the pastries.

“Coffee, to go.”

Marie repeats his order to confirm. “One black coffee to go. Can I get you anything else this morning? They’re just putting the pastries out, we make them ourselves.”

“Just the coffee, thanks.”

“Yes sir.” Knowing you should probably brush it off as someone who just sounds familiar, you find yourself quickly stacking the last of the muffins and closing the display to finish before Marie is done pouring the coffee to get a glimpse of the man up front.

Rounding the corner you make it in time to see Marie putting the pot of coffee back, she’d given him decaf on accident, with no one else up front. “Marie?”

“Yeah, hun?”

“Can you cover for me real quick? I need to check on something.”

“Sure thing, honey.”

He was still there, sitting with one hand resting outside the window of his car holding a cigarette that he wasn’t smoking, head tilted back and eyes locked firmly on the roof of his car, the coffee he’d just bought was placed on his dash with the lid popped off and several sugar and creamer containers were open and emptied alongside it.

To everyone, including yourself, he looked to be just another man who was taking a moment to collect himself before the start of another day. To those who paid just a little more attention he looked nervous, the hand holding the dwindling cigarette shaking slightly at the sound of your approaching footsteps.

“Billy?” He could hear the sun in your voice, feel the warmth.

“Hey Princess.” He offered an easy toothy grin as if him stopping by to say a quick hello was a common occurrence.

“I knew I recognized that voice. I didn’t know you were back in town, are you visiting family?”

“I’m just here for a few days on my way through town, then I'm heading out.” Billy flicks the butt of his cigarette to ash it, the cherry burning upwards on a smoke he’s only taken one drag from.

“That’s a shame, it’d be nice having you back around. You always had a way of shaking things up.” The chime of the bell over the door alerts you to Marie before the call of your name does. “Stop in for breakfast before you go, yeah? I’m on for the next three days, all opening shifts. I’ll have our chef Sabino make you his famous peanut butter banana nut waffles.”

You pat the hood of his car a few times and bid him goodbye over your shoulder while making your way back into the well-loved diner for the rest of your shift, a skip only your coworkers would notice had been added to your step.

After two weeks had gone by, you were sure that Billy had simply come and gone, sparing a quick stop to say hi to a highschool friend before disappearing to wherever his final destination would be. The coast was your guess, somewhere quiet, but not isolated where he’d always be close to the water. He’d always loved surfing on warm days where he could relax while digging his toes into the sand and watching the waves lap at the shore on the cooler ones.

It was a short meeting but it left a lasting impression on you, memories flitting through your mind while you worked for the rest of the day.

The trailers were just coming to an end when you’d finally made your way into the theater, the opening scenes filling the screen while you balanced your popcorn, soda and candy in one hand and your purse in the other, the narrow aisles seeming smaller with every seat already full for the debut showing of Terminator 2. Even in the dim lights, it was obvious tonight was going to be a sold out show.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” Every empty seat you managed to find was filled by a bag or stray sweater to signal it was being saved for a friend or already taken by someone who were making a quick dash to the concessions for a refill on popcorn and coke, having already downed theirs during the ads for upcoming movies and new products.

“I’m sorry my friend is sitting here, she just went to the bathroom.” Linda Hamilton’s voice booms on the speakers just as the girl was talking, her words hushed and nearly lost by the on screen presence, but the apologetic expression was more than enough to let you know exactly what she had said.

A shout of your name brings your attention to a row towards the back where you were surprised to see Billy waving you over, his tenor deep enough it cut through the boom of the music sequence to show you that he was pointing to where there was an empty seat next to him.

You had to squeeze past more than a few people to reach him, awkwardly shuffling sideways while being sure not to step on anyone’s toes as you made your way down the aisle to where he sat next to the seemingly only open seat left in the theater. “You always were there in my time of need, I might just start to think you’re my hero.”

“You’re here on your own?”

“Sara was supposed to get here earlier to save seats but she called last minute to cancel.” You had a sneaking suspicion that her sudden change in plans had something to do with the new coworker she’d met last month named Michael, his name had been popping up in more and more of your conversations and you knew it was only a matter of time before her work crush turned into something more. Juggling your stuff, you managed to get your sprite into the drink holder and tuck your bag underneath the seat before collapsing into it with a relieved sigh. As used to being around strangers and making pleasantries as you were from work, it was nice to settle beside someone you knew on your day off.

The movie was ok and Billy was sure he would have liked it had he gotten more of the story but his attention was divided between you and the big screen, his eyes having a hard time choosing between the fast paced action scenes up ahead and your delighted face as you crunched away on your treat. In that hour and a half, he learned a few things: you like to talk during movies, soft enough that only he could hear your whispered commentary and jokes, you alternated between salty and sweet, for every few handfuls of popcorn you would toss a mouthful of reese's pieces into your mouth for balance, and no matter how many times he declined your offer of snacks you’d always offer again a few minutes later, never content until he was eating too.

“Did you see the Hospital escape?” By time the movie had ended you’d made your way through all of your Reese’s pieces and soda but still had about half of your popcorn left, you were clutching it to you and still snacking on it as you recited the film you’d just seen back to him in a dramatic play by play. “I never saw the first one, but Sara had insisted this was going to be the ‘it’ movie of the summer. You saw the first one, right? How did this one hold up compared to it?”

Like it was a habit you’d been doing forever you leaned against him, your head resting on his shoulder as you walk through the lobby and towards the parking lot, the tub of popcorn being shoved into his view from time to time in your never ending bid to feed whoever was around you. He tensed at the contact initially, but relaxed as you walked in stride with him, the warmth of your head against his bicep bleeding through the denim of his coat. The arm that wasn’t clutching the butter stained container to your chest looped its way around the arm you were leaning against to offer you an easier time keeping pace with him.

Outside the sun had reached the final stages of setting, the darkness crowding the streaks of crimson and orange and snuffing out the last of today to get ready for the morning to come. It was still warm, made bearable by the breeze that drifted in from the west. You walked absentmindedly with Billy to his car, side by side like no time had ever passed and waited until he was by the driver's door to hand him the rest of your salty snack before wishing him a good night.

“Hey, wait, you have a ride?” He rested against the car with one arm, the other digging into the pocket of his jacket to grab his cigarettes and lighter.

“I walked here, Sara was supposed to meet me at my apartment and we were going to head here together since my place is just around the block.” Your thumb pointed behind you to show the direction you'd be heading and to give him some reassurance that you didn't have far to go to make it home.

Billy opened his mouth to say something. He'd wanted to insist on a ride, tell you to be safe, ask if you were sure; instead he pursed his lips together and brought the lighter to the end of his cigarette and just nodded.

“I’m glad I was able to see you one more time before you left.” He wondered if you could feel the way his body froze when you wrapped your arms around his frame to give him a quick hug, thanking him for watching the movie with you, or the way it relaxed as you did that same little squeeze right before you let go to say goodbye, just as you’d done since you were kids. He thinks you did when you turned back around for another hug, a fast one, clinging to him for the briefest second almost like you were making up for the goodbye you never got to have back then.

If he thought back far enough, he could remember what it was like before, before his mom had left, before Hawkins, before the mind flayer.

You’d been together from the start from kindergarten with Mrs.Mayo, where he’d been paired with you as your walking buddy. Your school in California had been a lot different from the one in Hawkins– rows of buildings connected like a strip mall with no hallways. The school had been fenced in of course, but they had you pair up for safety anyway and when it came time to take you to the cafeteria or the play area they’d line you up and have you walk side by side.

Everyday, multiple times a day he’d find himself next to you, marching in rows to get lunch or visit the library, but he never minded, you were nice, you liked to talk and you always shared your animal crackers on the walk back from the elementary rooms to the preschool and kindergarten area.

It didn't take long for his teacher-assigned partner to become his best friend.

He’d spend recess walking on the wooden beams that lined the wood chipped area of the playground, balancing on the thin strips and pretending you were on a pirate ship and walking the plank. Billy remembered taking turns with Selena, you and Andrew on the swings, competing to see who could get the highest before jumping off and bragging that he’d be able to swing high enough that he could loop around the metal bar. He’d hog one of the swings for the entire play time trying to soar over the top but had never managed to.

Even in class you’d been together, your desks arranged into pods of four that made up the ‘blue group’ were pushed flush together, blue construction paper taped to the forward facing side with your names written in your own messy scrawls. No matter how far back he’d thought, there was never a moment you weren’t a part of, something he’d only realized after replaying your night at the movies together.

It was an easy friendship to have.

It became a hard friendship to maintain.

You weren’t oblivious, he knew you weren’t, you’d seen the change. You heard the way playground roughhousing had evolved into high school rumors of vandalism, hookups and bullying, but Billy was still Billy, at least to you and when the lunch bell rang, he'd wait around your classroom and walk side by side with you to his car where you’d pile in with a mixture of his friends and whatever girl he was with that week.

“Let’s get Jack in the Box, those tacos have been calling my name since the second period.” Sid had one arm looped around your shoulder and one around the driver's seat where he was patting Billy’s chest to emphasize his need for the fast food tacos. “I’m sure our girl here could go for some onion rings.” He jostled your shoulder knowing if anyone could sway the vote for today’s lunch excursion that it’d be you.

“Curly fries do sound really good.” His eyes were on you, visible through the rear view mirror.

“Can we get McDonald’s, Billy? I’d die for a milkshake right now.” The front seat was occupied by Amanda who was using the visor’s mirror to swipe on some lip gloss.

With one hand on the wheel and the other on Amanda’s thigh, Billy backed out of his parking spot, the rubber of his wheels leaving black marks on the pavement as he peeled out “A milkshake sounds good to me.”

“Come on man, even she wanted Jack in the box.” Defeated Sid slumped into his seat, a pout on his face at the lost opportunity to fix his midday cravings.

“An apple pie sounds good, too.” Your hand found Sid’s arm to give it a squeeze.

“I didn’t want an apple pie.” Through the mirror you could still feel his gaze, heavy, intense, and entirely focused on you as the car sped down the road towards town.

At the time it’d seemed like a good idea, in his mind at least, to push you away. It’d be easier for you both if you were the one who chose to walk away, he’d had plenty of experience with that and he knew if that was how things ended, he would at least be ok.

You’d known he was going to move, a few of your friends had gotten together in the dried creek behind his house to get wasted, say goodbye with jokes and talk about how he was planning to blow that ‘Midwest shithole’ that Susan had found for them in the middle of nowhere. You’d all stayed well past the setting sun, watching the running oranges and red dampen into a star-smattered sky while passing around the cheapest bottle of vodka that Wayne had been able to get his hands on.

The burn of the cheap booze sat in your throat even after the bottle had been handed from you to Billy to Wayne then to Sid, the bitter taste masked only by the bottle of apple juice you’d been nursing on the side.

“This year is going to blow without you man. Why’d your sister have to go try and run away like that?”

“She’s just a kid.” You defended.

“She’s not my sister.” His first answer overlapped your own. “She’s not my sister.” The second a much firmer response.

“Right, sorry man. I’m just bummed you’re leaving.” Sid raised his hands in defeat and the stereo pausing before switching to the following song, Rock you like a hurricane, was like an awkward punctuation to the tense conversation.

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll be back here the day I turn eighteen. There’s no way I’m staying in that backwoods hell.” A breeze kicked up, warm but with the barest whispers of the impending winter, and you’re hit with the scent of cigarettes, liquor and cologne.

“Hey, Billy!” A little further down the dried creek Amanda calls out, she’s got a bottle of something brown clutched in her hand and two of her friends flanking her on either side.

“It’s about time you showed up.” Billy’s grin is wolfish when he pats his leg to invite her to sit on his lap, the excuse of there being nowhere else to sit leaving his mouth before she could make her way to the over crowded couch.

Things picked up from there, a bottle being passed between friends turned into more cars pulling up and beers being handed out as people clapped Billy on the back and told them they’d miss him, plans for the following summer already being made with liquor fueled optimism.

It was around three when people begrudgingly began to make their way home, designated drivers towing their drunken friends into their cars where they’d shout a final goodbye over the idling engines and milling people to Billy who just waved them off in favor of sucking face with Amanda.

“Hey man, we’ve gotta get home. My mom gets up at five and if I’m not home she’s gonna ship me off to Indiana with you.” Wayne stood behind the couch, fingers gripping the backrest and shaking it to get the pair's attention.

“I’m a little occupied.” Amanda’s lips stayed busy against his cheek as Wayne continued to whine about Sid being too drunk to drive them home.

“School starts in a couple hours, Billy. We could really use a ride home.” He didn’t respond to you at first, instead tilting his head so Amanda could continue to lather him with attention.

“Come on man.” Wayne shook the back of the couch hard enough it rattled you as well to no response other than a middle finger in his face. “Why don’t you try, Honey? He likes you better.”

“It is getting really late, Billy, would you mind taking us home?” Billy’s head lolled to the side and for a few seconds you felt like he was scrutinizing you, his blue eyes hardened for the briefest moment before softening and ultimately shifting to annoyance.

“Let’s go.” He patted the side of Amanda’s hip to tell her to hop off. “I’ll be back, Honey, wait for me here. Let’s make this quick, I have better things to do than drive you three home.”

“Told you he’d do it if you asked.” Wayne’s breath reeked of cheap beer when he leaned in to try to whisper that to you but the words simply went in one ear and out the other, just barely registering in the back of your mind.

He’d called her Honey.

He’d called her Honey and that shouldn’t have bothered you, but it had, more than the cold shoulder he’d been giving you for the past two months. It was a sting, sharp and quick, like the jab of a needle to see how pleased he was when she smiled at the nickname he’d only ever used on you. That had been your name since you were small, it was what everyone had called you, and it had never been all that special, not until it was given to someone else.

Sid’s house was closest and it took both Wayne and Billy to nearly drag him into the house, he’d been well past drunk and found the entire thing funny as the two wrestled him into a standing position so they could get him to walk with them. Wayne was next, a lot more sober than Sid, he offered Billy an arm around the shoulder squeeze and a “Keep in touch man.” Before he was off to climb in through his window.

When he’d pulled up to your house you didn’t reach for the handle, instead turning in your seat to face him. “Did you want to-“

“I’ll stop by tomorrow before I go.” He didn't miss the way your smile faltered as he said that.

“Promise you won’t forget me in the chaos of the morning before you go?”

“I won’t forget you, I promise.” His arm twitched against the back of your headrest where it lay, the habit of you hugging him before leaving his car ingrained into him. It was a small movement unnoticed by you, but a moment of weakness to him to see that he’d been expecting, wanting, that last hug.

“I’ll see you in the morning, Silly Billy.” The nickname got a smile out of him, the first one he’d directed at you that night

“Bye, Honey.”

The next time you see him, you had ended up missing the bus by a few minutes, the fading red of the tail lights grew dimmer as they ventured further into the night. The heavy rain obscuring them and your hope of making it home far quicker than it should have on a summer night like this. It was warm at least, so it could definitely be worse, you reassured yourself, the air stifling despite the waters rushing down your face in rivulets and drenching your uniform with each trudging step forward, it could be winter.

Home was easily more than an hour and a half walk that you weren’t willing to take at this time of night, and the diner’s doors were locked until Sabino made his way in the next morning. A hotel would be too expensive so you turn to walk towards the edge of town hoping that Marie would be home and not at her night shift at the nursing home.

“Get in.” The roar of an engine reaches you before the lights do, muted by the downpour that had left you soaked to the bone and ready to throw down the fifty dollars for the cherrywood hotel that would assure you a bed and a shower in the next few blocks, even if it would be for less than eight hours. Your body tensed for the second it took you to process that the car that had pulled to the stop beside you was the same bright blue Camaro that had left the diner a few hours before you had and once it sunk in who the furrowed brow and rumbling voice belonged to you were more than eager to climb into passenger seat and melt into the leather interior that smelled faintly of cigarette smoke and cologne. “What the hell are you doing out here, you’ll get hit in this weather.”

“I missed the bus, a table of six walked in right before closing and I just got out.” Water still drips from your hair and lingeres on your lashes before splashing onto the seat belt you were strapping across your chest. “I was heading to a coworkers to see if I could spend the night.”

A cigarette stayed tucked between pinched lips while Billy exhaled a sigh,he’d gone straight to the laundromat after grabbing a burger to go and had spent the last two hours on a hard plastic chair waiting for his clothes, which were all crammed in his back seat, to be done. “I’ll give you a lift, you still staying on Lakeshore?”

“Are you sure? It’s a little out of the way.”

“I was heading that way, I’m staying with an old friend until I find a place of my own.” The key with the tag ‘Cherrywood Room 218’ was burning a hole into his back pocket at the lie.

Billy’s knuckles were white, both hands wrapped tightly on the wheel with his thumb tapping against the hard plastic, the sound of the heavy rain pounding the top of his car had muddled with his racing thoughts of what to say until it was a cacophony of white noise that spurred on his anxiety. He’d gotten this far, taken years to heal, made it back home and was seated by you. He knew what he wanted next but being here alone with you had him feeling like he had when he moved away when he was seventeen, unable to express what he was feeling. It boiled his blood to feel helpless in a situation.

“You’re staying?” Just two words, spoken in no special way, warms him, stoking a growing feeling that you’d been feeding with each interaction, with each touch and act of compassion. He knew that he had a lot to fix, and that you weren’t the answer to how he would do that, but you were an ember, crackling quietly as a source of comfort he’d never known before, creating cracks in the wall he’d hastily boarded his heart up with all those years ago when his mom had left.

“I’m sticking around for a while. This place feels like home, you know?” He’d have to break the rest down himself, take steps to the life he knew he wanted, but he had a foundation, a place that wanted him.

His grip on the wheel loosens, the tension from just minutes prior lifting with the contended hum you answered with as if you had just given him permission to allow himself to want to stay.

The drive passes quickly after that, with your head rested against the window watching the rain race against the chilled pane of glass and the both of you wrapped up in your own thoughts, neither of you seeming to realize you’d made it to your driveway until the car went from smooth cement to the crunching of your gravel driveway.

You linger in the car for a minute, your hand on the handle of the door steeling yourself to be drenched again. “Thanks for the ride, Billy.”

“It’s not a big deal, I’m staying just a few minutes from here.” Again the key feels more present in his pocket, reminding him of the can of worms he was opening by allowing himself to take this time with you.

“I’m glad you’re sticking around, senior year just wasn’t the same without you around, I missed having you there.” The volume of the rain increases as you crack open the door. “Thanks again for taking me home, the next time you come into the diner, desserts on me.”

“Take this.” Before you’d fully opened the door Billy shrugs his coat off, the same brown leather one he’d had since you were fourteen, to hand to you, his favorite one he’d never let anyone else wear, let alone borrow before tonight. He lingered for a bit, watching you run the short distance to your front door with his coat held above your head, the leather he’d taken such care of getting drenched to spare you from getting any wetter and only backing out of the drive once he could see the light spilling from your living room as you walked into your apartment.

Any plans he’d thought of having for the following day were forgotten as he decides that pancakes sound perfect for tomorrow’s breakfast.

“Good morning and welcome to Cecil’s, I’ll be your waitress today.” It was early, the gray of the sky muddling into the blue of early dawn, but you were wide awake, the smile on your face genuine as you greeted the third table of the morning.

“I was in green all day.” Jackson is already hard at work on his newest masterpiece, the blue crayon running against the paper to fill the sky like he was in a race against time to complete it.

You glanced at his grandmother for context and she explains that they had a chart for behavior, green was good, yellow was for needing a little extra direction, and red meant they'd been having a hard day.

“Well it sounds like you’ve earned yourself a treat, I'll be sure to tell our cook to make your pancakes extra special. After all, it's not often we get someone who managed to stay in green all day.” The boy beams at you, obviously enjoying the praise and the promise of an extra special breakfast for his good behavior at the daycare. He’d always been a good kid, and you were happy to celebrate that, but you were especially proud at how he’d been so excited to tell you about his accomplishments.

Helen grabs you the moment you put his order in with Sabino. “I’ve got another one for you, honey, Chelsea’s running late again.” The pause and pointed look before she said again was telling. Chelsea being on time was more unlikely than snow in December, but at least she always showed.

You could just make out the mess of blonde curls over the high back of the booth, styled to perfection but made to look effortlessly natural. “Welcome to Cecil’s, I’ll be your waitress this morning. Can I get you started with some coffee?”

Billy looked at ease, he almost always did, one arm tossed over the back of the booth and a bored look on his face. His jaw is tense, a nervous tick he remedied by placing an unlit cigarette between his lips.

The filter between his lips being crushed when he offered a tight lipped nod and slid the still upside down ceramic cup to you.

He could swear the sun broke through the clouds at the same time you smile, maybe even believes it only had because you did if it hadn’t been so embarrassing, dusting the gray expanse with gold to match the warmth of your grin as you rattled off the specials of the day even though you both knew he was getting the peanut butter banana nut pancake stack you’d promised at the movies.

Your pencil, a stumpy little thing just barely long enough for you to hold, had been scribbling on the notepad you carried in your apron, writing an order down he hadn't placed before you had even finished telling him about the soup of the day. “I’ll be right back with your food, Billy.”

Wafts of smoke start to lazily float up the moment you walk away, twirling in wispy gray lines before dissipating into the air. Billy isn’t sure if it’s the rush of nicotine or the comfort of routine but he can feel his muscles losing the tension he hadn’t realized they’d been holding since he walked into the diner, the simple act of doing so being a submission on his end. With all of your prior meetings being on his terms and in his places of comfort walking into a place that was so inanely you felt almost vulnerable.

Less than ten minutes had passed when you were back at his booth with a plate stacked high in one hand and a steaming mug in the other one, the look on your face is all too pleased as you set down a mountain of banana nut pancakes smothered in peanut butter and drowned in syrup. The sight of it alone is enough to make Billy’s teeth ache.

“I brought you some cocoa too.” The mug you hand to him was full to the brim almost to the point of overflowing and topped with a more than generous handful of mini marshmallows the top of which were sprinkled in cinnamon.

Exactly the way he’d taken it since you were both small and had spent your first holiday season together.

The house smelled of chocolate melting into perfectly buttery cookies, splashes of vanilla and sugar settling the house into a holiday haze. On the couch next to you Billy was curled up into himself, half of the blanket you were under was draped over him as you both nursed the cups of cocoa his mom had made you while you attempted to warm up from the day you’d spent playing outside.

On the tv a year without Santa was playing and Billy’s mom sang along to the tune of Heat Miser’s song, your own mother alongside her working on cookies for when Santa made his way here the following morning.

Billy’s attention is ripped away from the screen when he hears your mom calling a name, a name he doesn’t know, and you hop off the couch with your cocoa still in hand to go help her with the cookies.

“Your name isn’t Honey?” The revelation was clearly a shock, his eyes were large, comically so as he repeated the name to himself, your actual name feeling weird and clunky on his tongue after having known you as Honey for the past three months at school.

“You thought my name was Honey?” Billy could feel his face burn at the giggles that caused, both yourself and the two moms in the kitchen cooing over the fact that he’d been calling you Honey this whole time.

“That’s what the teacher always calls you.” He could feel the heat of embarrassment creeping past his face to his ears.

“That’s silly, Billy, that’s just a nickname.”

“Yeah, well…I like that name better.” He took a hasty swallow of cocoa to cover his blunder and coughed as it went down the wrong pipe, the whole ordeal only bringing more attention to him.

“That’s ok, you can call me Honey.”

“Thanks Princess.”

“I'll be back in a bit to see how you’re enjoying the food.” Not if he was enjoying the food, just how he was enjoying it. Billy had been known, by those close to him, to have a notoriously big sweet tooth, he’d done well to reign it in, instead focusing on working out and keeping in shape but he’d never been able to say no to baked goods especially if it was you who was offering them.

When you make your way back around to him, coffee pot in hand to refill his cup, he’d already polished off the cocoa and a third of the pancakes.

“How’s the food?” You spare a cautious glance around to the other diners to assure they were all content before setting the pot onto the table and sliding into the seat opposite him, the worn leather making you scoot more than glide across the bench seating to be directly across from him.

You’d asked him right as he’d taken a bite of his pancakes and he did his best to say it was delicious around the mouth full of sticky cakes which only earned a laugh from you and a glare from him.

“Are you on break?” Billy takes a quick sip of the too hot coffee to help clear the food in his mouth so he could talk to you.

“Not for another few hours but I’ve checked all my tables and can spare a few minutes.” Your hand reaches across the table to steal his fork and uses it to cut a chunk of his pancakes that you steal a bite of. “We really do have the best pancakes.”

“Do you always steal your customers' food?”

“Only the ones I really like.” It was an old game between you two, shared food, stolen food, some days he’d steal your cherries and you’d take his pickles anytime his food came with them. Seeing you slip into your old role so easily brings a smile to his face.

“Do you want to go out sometime?” It slips out before he’d wanted it too, the words leaving his mouth before they get a chance to fully form in his head. He’d been wanting to ask you,in a far less crass and direct way but the question lingered in the air unable to be taken back.

“Like on a date?”

“Yeah princess, a date.” It was already out there so he doubles down, layering his voice with that thick charm that he’d practiced, and perfected, over the years. Leaning in, Billy let the knuckles of his right hand brush against the top of your folded hands that were resting flat on the table, you were soft against his own battle scarred skin.

“Sure Billy, I’d love to.” It was a fast answer, instant really, an eager response and the matching grin you held on your face has him retracting his hands back to his own side, both of them landing in his lap before they slid down to his knees so he’d have a place to rest them. What did he normally do with his hands after someone had said yes? “I'm free. Friday night.”

You weren’t but nothing worth doing was going to be happening on a Wednesday evening and trading a shift to soothe the fluttering in your stomach that had been building since your first run in in the diner parking lot seemed worth it.

“I’ll pick you up at eight.”

“Are you just going to wait by the window?” You’d been hovering in Lisa’s peripheral for the last ten or so minutes, alternating between checking the window by the door and double - then triple checking that you still looked ok in the little circular mirror that was older than you were that was pinned to the wall. “You’re going to pace a hole into our carpet.”

“It’s been awhile.”

“That you’ve been on a date or that you’ve been with Billy?” You held her full attention now, Lisa’s body twisted on the couch so she could rest her torso on the arm rest and watch you with an amused gaze. The name ‘Billy’ came out in a lilting way telling you she already knew the answer to your question.

“I’ve missed him, y’know?” You wouldn’t say a piece of you had been missing, but his absence had been felt. It was felt in the way you’d hear a car peeling down the street and your head would still turn, always expecting to see the blue build of his Camaro and to this day you still get an extra cherry on your milkshakes because he’d always stolen the one off of yours for years. Having him gone was like losing your favorite sweater or chapstick, you know it’s gone yet you still find yourself searching for its comfort.

Lisa’s eyes study your face for what felt like an uncomfortable amount of time but in reality had only been a few seconds before she turns back around on the couch sliding down into the divet she’d made to continue watching whatever had been holding her interest before. “Make sure he has you home before midnight.”

This time when you heard the roar of an engine pulling into the spot in front of your apartment you know that as soon as that door opened you’d find the perfectly polished metal of Billy’s 1979 Chevy and Billy himself on the other side waiting for you.

You can smell it the moment you’d climb into his car, a warm, greasy, salty scent that makes your mouth water filling the air. Nestled between your two seats you could see a white bag, still warm enough you could feel the heat radiating from it, with bold red lettering and the paper turning translucent from the grease seeping through it from the fast food inside. “I haven’t had this in years.”

Billy had his foot on the gas the moment your seatbelt clicked into place, the music turning up as he turned onto the street and began to drive you towards the edge of town.This time settling into the passenger seat felt right, like sliding on your favorite sweater that you’d worn over in time, like it was your seat again.

Small talk fills the short ride, your excitement over him being there and his slanted half smile coming easily, like no time had ever been spent apart, your comments being met with sarcastic banter and teasing remarks. The drive ended up going quickly and finishes with him pulling into the empty parking lot of a park you’d often pass by while running errands, the dark stretch of playground and grassy fields being illuminated by the pale moon overhead and the filtered yellow of the lampposts littered around the area.

The two of you sit on the play area, bypassing the splintering picnic tables to sit on the faded black plastic of the swings, the chains digging into the meat of your palms as you held onto them to help keep you in place while your legs folded in and out to get just enough momentum going for a light swing.

“This seemed so much bigger when we were younger.” You can still see his blonde curls leading the way around the playground, frizzy from playing in the hot summer sun, and still hear his voice excitedly telling you about the seven foot wave his mom had let him surf on his own over summer break.

Beside you the paper bag crinkles as Billy digs out the food he’d gotten for your date and you’re handed two tacos and a large curly fry. “Haven’t had this since junior year, there’s nothing in that shithole but cows and corn.”

“You still remember my order.” The swing drags to a stop when you push your heels into the soil and wood chips below, two deep divots forming in the material at the base of your heels as your movements halted.

You go for the curly fries first and the memories of lunch runs and late night drives hits you before the salt registers on your tongue, the way he’d always grumble about crumbs in his car negated by the salty treats he always seemed to have around for you.

Billy had always been unapologetically himself but it was only when you’d begun reminiscing on both your shared past and the years apart did you truly get to see him as he’d been in your memories, eyes bright and that deep hearty laugh of his twisting your stomach in knots that only his smile eases.

The rest of the night passes like that, stories shared between bites of food, jokes that weren’t nearly as funny as the way you two were laughing at them made them out to be and every so often his knuckles brush against your own as the swings sway with your movements. You stay in the park until what you could only guess was well past the curfew Lisa had given you, the cars having long since cleared the road.

It wasn’t until his car pulls into your parking lot that he kisses you, there was lull in conversation as you sat in the passenger seat with neither of you in a rush for the night to truly be over. You’d just finished telling him a story about graduation and how Sid and Wayne had almost made you miss your turn to walk and you have the biggest smile on your face.

You were always smiling, sure in him as a person in a way it took life-altering events for him to be in himself, even now as his fingers hesitated moving gently against the swell of your cheek. He’d been good at this before, it came naturally to him; a flash of a smile, a compliment here, a light touch there and whoever he was with was putty.

When his lips brushed against yours it was light, a soft glide of his lips that made your lips tingle. The initial kiss was enough to make him hungry for more, his own slightly chapped lips pressing against your own more eagerly, the hand that was just barely ghosting against your skin now cradled your face, holding it firmly to keep you in place as his lips moved against your own. The kiss had a sense of urgency to it, longing and needy but with no end goal in mind, he took and you were happy to give.

You couldn’t be sure how long it lasted,was it a long kiss? Short? Time had slipped away, moving around the two of you, just for this one moment, the moment everyone but the two of you had seen coming since fall of ‘72 when you’d intertwined your little hands for the first time and instantly bonded.

Billy broke away first, his lips kiss swollen and slick, but he remained close, his half lidded eyes, normally so icy and sharp had warmed to a softer shade of blue as they stayed level with your own, drinking in your own dazed but entirely pleased expression and only darting down to watch the way you bit the corner of your lip, chewing on it with a giddy smile.

“Wow.” He couldn’t help but snort a laugh at that, your genuine response simple but so endearing, that same sunshine bright smile on your face as he laughed at your awe-struck answer to your very first kiss together.

“Wow?” He was sure you would be able to warm up even the dreariest of Hawkins winters with the way you were looking at him, eye bright and taking him in like he was the one who could thaw a cold Midwest January day with just a look.

“I’ve been hoping you’d do that since you drove me home back in August.” There was a breathlessness to your voice with the kiss itself not being too heated, but the thrill of how perfect it felt to have him mould against you stealing the air from your lungs all the same.

You would have stayed there all night if you hadn’t had a shift the following morning but the late hour didn't stop you from stealing one more quick kiss before bidding him good night.

“I’ll see you in the morning Honey.” This time as you climb out of the car and he promises to see you the following morning you know he’ll be there.

Special thanks to so many people first @jo-harrington who is the reason I wrote this. @the-unforgivenn who has read this enough times im sure she could recite it by memory. @ghost-proofbaby @hellfire--cult (who also made the amazing banner and divider) @munson-blurbs @dr-aculaaa who all helped plot and cheer me on every step of the way. I’m so appreciative of you all 💕

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x you #i honestly consider this my first full real fic #i hope you guys like it

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youmakemyhearthowl · 2 years

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The first time Steve went with Robin to a gay bar in Indy, he got a lot of education on the queer community from a group of Drag Queens. They were so pleased to run into a straight man at a gay bar that was there to protect his lesbian best friend that they answered all of his questions he’d asked. Even if a few of them were pretty convinced Steve was some sort of queer and just hadn’t gotten around to figuring it out yet.

The biggest thing that seemed to stand out to Steve was the hanky code. It was such a cool way to let yourself share this super secret part of yourself with the world without the dangers that actually sharing it would cause and Steve was enamored.

One particular Drag Queen, Helen, knows most of what the different colors mean and Steve can’t stop himself from asking about every single one of them.

When they get back to Hawkins Steve feels truly educated and Robin just smirks knowingly at him as he rambles on about everything he learned. He’d told Robin a few weeks ago he thought he might also like guys but was still figuring everything out. Robin was just happy he was willing to learn, even if he decided men weren’t for him.

Everything sort of spirals quickly after that.

Steve and Robin are at work when Dustin comes barreling into the store with Eddie Munson in tow.

“We need Rocky Horror Picture show right now.” The demand is sharp, and Steve just rolls his eyes at the teen.

“Not that I’m judging or anything Dust, but what do -you- need with that movie?” Robins voice cuts across the store from where she’s restocking returns in the romance section.

“We have a theory about Mike we want to test.”

“You have a theory about Mike you want to test.” Eddie cuts in hoping up onto the counter and crossing one leg under him. Steve’s pretty sure he stops breathing for a second. Because right there in his left pocket is that stupid black hanky that Steve never really paid attention to before, but now his eyes lock on.

“Steve!” Robins next to him now shoving him out of the way of the register so she can check out Dustin, and Steve’s still just kind of frozen in place because, Munson’s into some kinky shit and he’s not entirely sure how to bring his brain back from the rabbit hole it’s just dove down.

“Stevie, are you still coming over for movie night with me and Buck?” Eddie chirped climbing down off the table to follow Dustin out the door. Robin looked from Eddie to Steve, trying to figure out what exactly broke her best friend, when her eyes land on the hanky and she has to hide her laugh with a cough.

“Yea, he’s coming. He’s my ride anyways. We’ll see you at 8 Eddie.” With a nod and a questioning glance in Steve’s direction Eddie throws open the front doors and skips to his van as Dustin clamors into the passenger seat.

“Hey, Dingus.” Robin slides in front of Steve, a shit eating grin spreading across her face. “Learn anything new just now?”

“Holy shit Robin, how am I ever even supposed to -look- at him again.” He groans throwing his head down onto his crossed arms on the counter.

“He’s still stupid Eddie.”

“Stupid Eddie who likes to tie people up and administer pain in the bed room. Fuck.” Robin could see all kinds of gears turning in Steve’s head. Dots connecting, pieces falling into place until suddenly his face turns bright red and he stands up straight again locking fearful eyes with Robin.

“Oh my god Robin. I think I wanna fuck Eddie Munson.”

Robins laughter was so loud, Eddie could hear it all the way in the parking lot.

(inspired by @undeaddisillusion ‘s post found here)

#might make a whole fic outta this #thought this idea was fun tho #steves just a mess anytime hes around eddie now #can only think about getting tied up and fucked within an inch of his life #it takes eddie a painfully long time to figure out why steve wont look him in the eyes anymore #he thinks steves mad at him for some reason #but steves just having so many realizations about himeself #hes a disaster bi and robins having way to much fun with this #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #robin buckley

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otmaaromanovas · 5 months

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Anastasia's personality

Lesser known quotes about Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanov and her personality, from those who knew her and from Anastasia herself!

Happy reading :)

"Once they had seen this demonstration [of security dogs sniffing out objects], the Grand Duchesses often amused themselves by hiding objects on the island, and asking us to have them retrieved by the dogs. That was, above all, the favourite game of the youngest of the Grand Duchesses, Anastasia Nicholaievna. So the guide asked permission to take the Grand Duchess by the hand and let the dogs sniff it, who then disappeared into the island and brought back the hidden object. Of course, the Grand Duchess was hugely delighted." - Alexander Spiridovitch, Last Years at Tsarskoe Selo, Volume 1

Anastasia to tutor Pyotr Vasilievich Petrov: "Wikied P.V.P. I am very, very upsit with you. Why didn’t you write a litter to Maria and me? I’m telling you, you are very, very bad, extremely bad even. Maria and I have written you so meny letters and you haven’t replied. I am going to make mystakes on purpose. I alredy see where I made mystakes. Anastasia. 1909. 9 November." - Helen Azar, George Hawkins, Anastasia Romanov: The Tsar's Youngest Daughter Speaks Through Her Writings

"Sometimes, the Grand Duchesses would enter the thatched houses and strike up conversations with the peasant women. The male population worked far away, at fishing, Anastasia Nicholaievna made friends with an old peasant woman, whom she came to see in her thatched cottage several times, and with whom she had long conversations. The peasant was knitting a stocking, and showed the Grand Duchess how it was done. On her birthday, Anastasia Nicholaievna visited the old lady, and asked her how old she thought she was. When the old lady could not guess, the Grand Duchess announced proudly that she was eight years old!" - Alexander Spiridovitch, Last Years at Tsarskoe Selo, Volume 1

"We used to make long outings around the islands. One day, Anastasia Nicholaievna begged the Emperor to take her on one of these outings. The Emperor consented. It was a very long outing. We covered some fifteen to seventeen versts. Everybody, except the Emperor, was very tired, with Anastasia Nicholaievna at the point of tears. The people who accompanied the Emperor took turns carrying her pick-a-back [piggy back]. That outing was remembered for a long time." - Alexander Spiridovitch, Last Years at Tsarskoe Selo, Volume 1

"Anastasia Nicholaevna was a lively witty child, who developed rapidly in the midst of her sisters. Very mischievous, always gay she still amused herself with toys such as the little, stoppered bottles and pots which a doctor who visited the Imperial Family used to bring her. She and her brother got no end of fun from these things." - Alexander Spiridovitch, Last Years at Tsarskoe Selo, Volume 1

"Little Anastasie was delighted with the stir and bustle of city life and deeply interested in all she saw. The children developed a love for those little toy balloons which are sold in the streets. When they were very good I used to send out and get them one each. But Anastasie used sometimes to want me to stop the carriage and buy them from the men, and this, of course, could not be allowed. So I always said simply that I could not, without advancing any reason. She evidently thought force would have to be used to induce him to part with them, for one day she saw some little children walking on the Palace Quay, each one with a balloon. She drew my attention to them. "Look, look!" cried she; "little children with balloons; get out, take them from them and give them to me." I explained why that would not do, so she said, " Well, get out, and ask them nicely and politely, and perhaps they will give them to me."" - Margaretta Eagar, Six Years at the Russian Court

"Someone in speaking to me of the four little girls lately said to me, "...little Anastasie has personal charm beyond any child I ever saw."" - Margaretta Eagar, Six Years at the Russian Court

"I had got from England a preparation for the children's hair, and was rubbing it into little Anastasie's head one evening. She objected, and I said, " It will make your hair grow nicely, darling," so she submitted. Next evening I went to get the kappuka [solution] from the cupboard, and mademoiselle ran off into the next room. She returned dragging by its leg an awful dolly, a regular fetish, minus a wig, one eye, and an arm. She gravely took a little piece of sponge and began to rub the kappuka into the creature's head. I remonstrated, telling her I had to send to England for the stuff and did not want it wasted. She looked at me most reproachfully, and said, "My poor Vera! she has got no curls; this will make her hair grow." Of course, she got her way." - Margaretta Eagar, Six Years at the Russian Court

"Anastasia Nikolaevna was especially attracted to stores, where they sold doll shoes of various sizes…" - Sophia Ivanovna Tyutcheva, A Few Years Before the Catastrophe

Letter from Alexei to their father, Nicholas: "[22 Sept 1914] …Anastasia was throttling [tutor] M. Gilliard." This has also been translated as "…Anastasia was trying to strangle M. Gilliard" - George Hawkins, Alexei: Russia's Last Tsesarevich - Letters, diaries and writings

Letter from Alexandra to Nicholas: "Jan 6 1916 …Anastasia has bronchitis, head is heavy & hurts her swallowing, coughed in the night,, she writes about [Dr.] Ostrog.[orsky]. “Although he said that I look a little better than yesterday, but I am pale & my appearance is foolish in my view” just like the “Shvibzik” [her nickname] to say such things…" – Joseph T. Fuhrmann, Nicholas II and Alexandra Feodorovna. The complete Wartime Correspondence April 1914 – March 1917

Letter from Alexandra to either her brother or sister-in-law: "7 May 1913… Anastasia is growing gradually and is as funny as always." - Petra H. Kleinpenning, The Correspondence Of The Empress Alexandra Of Russia With Ernst Ludwig And Eleonore, Grand Duke And Duchess Of Hesse

The following are from Helen Azar, George Hawkins, Anastasia Romanov: The Tsar's Youngest Daughter Speaks Through Her Writings:

Tutor Pyotr Vasilievich Petrov to Anastasia: "12 October 1909. Hello dear, good, diligent, obedient (albeit not always), kind and affectionate (also not always?) Anastasia Nikolaevna!" - Helen Azar, George Hawkins, Anastasia Romanov: The Tsar's Youngest Daughter Speaks Through Her Writings

Anatoly Mordvinov to the Grand Duchesses: "September 19, 1915 My beloved torturers! I can’t express how pleased I was with your joint, dear, sweet letter… What terrible news, reported by my chief tormentor Anastasia Nikolaevna…"

Anastasia to Nicholas: "October 3rd [1915] …There was a psalm-reader who read so incredibly funny that it was simply impossible not to laugh"

Note from Anastasia to Alexei "…Now you, little piggy, know all the rooms…"

Letter from Anastasia to Alexei: "1 November 1915. ...My Dear and Darling Little Alexei! I haven’t forgotten my responsibility [to walk dog Joy], and every day either I or Madeleine or Tutles goes for a walk and it goes very well."

Last diary of Alexandra: "12/15 April. Marie comes with us [to Ekaterinburg], Olga will look after Baby, Tatiana the household & Anastasia will cheer all up." - Last diary of Alexandra Feodorovna

"Anastasia was not allowed to go to dinner, had to go to bed early, which was why she had dinner alone with the nanny in her giant lonely “upstairs”… So sad, these poor children live in a golden cage." - the memoirs of V. I. Chebotareva

Diary entry of the palace priest: "April 11, 1917 - …The former Heir was taken past my window in a wheelchair. Grand Duchess Anastasia Nikolaevna saw me in the window and loudly said to her mother, “Over there, the batiushka [father] is looking at us”" - Belyaev, Potapov, The Romanovs Under House Arrest: From the 1917 Diary of a Palace Priest

Letter from Maria to Nicholas: "April 1915 …The little Shvybzik [Anastasia's dog] just made a “governor” [accident] on Mama’s carpet, and Anastasia is not training him…" - Helen Azar, George Hawkins, Maria Romanov: Third Daughter of the Last Tsar, Diaries and Letters, 1908–1918

"...the most energetic and speedy - Anastasia Nikolaevna - had a rather silent, sedate and serious Navigator A.V. Saltanov [to look after her]. The latter ended up with most trouble and turmoil. Dear 'Nastasya', as the Gosudar [tsar] called her, was a trouble making tomboy. With her hair always messed up, always dishevelled, from morning till night she ran around the yacht, climbed up ladders, peeked where she should not have, until, with a lot of screaming she was finally led away and put to bed. Her parents said she was the "clown"." - Memoirs of Nikolai Vasilievich Sablin

"It was after Anastasia had arrived as a pupil that Gibbes met his first real problem. Still slightly built (she would soon grow rapidly), eager in her movements, her eyes sparkling with intelligence, she was self-possessed and in entire command of her features; he had met nothing like it any other child. Remembering a course in child psychology he had taken during one of his exploring periods at Cambridge, he tried as many innovations from it as he could; they did not shelter him from storms, usually sudden. Once, after a disturbed lesson, he refused to give her five marks, the maximum (and customary) number. For a moment the wondered what might happen; then, purposefully, Anastasia left the room. Within minutes she returned, carrying one of the elaborate bouquets that seemed always to be in waiting. 'Mr Gibbes,' she said winningly, 'are you going to change the marks?' He hesitated before he shook his head. Describing it long afterwards in a letter (1928) to the Grand Duke Alexander Mikhailovich, the Tsar's brother-in-law in Paris, Gibbes wrote: Drawing herself up to the most of her small height, she marched into the schoolroom next door. Leaving the door wide open, she approached the dear old Russian professor, Peter Vassilievich Petrov. 'Peter Vassilievich', she said, 'allow me to present you with these flowers'. By all the rules he should have refused them, but professors are human; he did not. Later, we made it up again, and I received my bouquets once more, for the Grand Duchess nearly always gave me one during those early years. I-well, I was more careful in my marking. We had both learned a lesson. Another morning would not be forgotten. There had been a children's fancy-dress dance at Tsarskoe Selo on the previous night. Gibbes, in tail-coat and white tie, waited at his desk for Anastasia to arrive. When she did, quickly and mischievously, her face was blackened like a chimney-sweep's and she carried a small golden ladder which she placed beside her while she waited for the lesson to begin. Gibbes, deciding to take no notice, was about to speak when he heard a rush of laughter outside the big double doors at the end of the room. They flew open, and through them there appeared the three elder Grand Duchesses with their mother. The Empress looked in horror. 'Anastasia!' she cried, 'go and change at once!' And, meekly, the sweep vanished. When she came back, her face scrubbed as red as a lobster, the gold ladder was still beside her desk; but everybody pretended not to see it and the lesson continued in the Empress's presence." - Trewin and Gibbes, Tutor to the Tsarevich

"Through the years he preserved from Tobolsk two cheap exercise books, each labelled ‘English’. ‘M. Romanof’ had written her name on one label. The other book belonged to A. Romanova (Shut Up!) Tobolsk 1917-1918.’ Grand Duchess Anastasia, more exuberantly talkative than her sisters, seized on one of Gibbes’s exasperated moments. When he told her to shut up, she asked him how to spell it and adopted it as her nickname." - Trewin and Gibbes, Tutor to the Tsarevich

"‘At the end of the farce [Gibbes reported] the husband has to turn his back, open his dressing-gown as if to take it off- Anastasia wore an old one of mine - and then exclaim: 'But I've packed my trousers; I can't go.' The night's applause had excited the little Grand Duchess. The piece had gone with a swing and they were getting through the 'business' so fast that a draught got under the gown and whisked its tail up to the middle of her back, showing her sturdy legs and bottom encased in the Emperor's Jaeger underwear. We all gasped; Emperor and Empress, suite and servants, collapsed in uncontrolled laughter. Poor Anastasia could not make it out. All were calling for a second performance, but this time she was more careful. Certainly I shall always remember the night; it was the last heart unrestrained laughter the Empress ever enjoyed.’" - Trewin and Gibbes, Tutor to the Tsarevich

"...Anastasia was the most amusing; she was always full of mischief. - “Anastasia is our family clown!” the Emperor once exclaimed, laughing, to my mother." - Olga Voronova, Upheaval

"Fleeting memories come back to me of those cloudless summer days. Pictures of the Emperor and his daughters at the Garden Party at Tsarskoe, the little Grand Duchess Anastasia, her cheeks scarlet with excitement, surrounded by a group of midshipmen, plying them with eager questions. “You will take me up into your conning tower,” her clear childish voice rang out above the hum of conversation. “Couldn’t you let off one of the guns and just pretend it was a mistake?”" - Muriel Buchanan, Ambassador's Daughter

"The youngest girl, Anastasia, was spirited, sly and playful; she would get under the dinner table and pinch the legs of some elderly statesman until her father pulled her out by her hair. She has been described as ‘a little inextinguishable volcano, with a world of her own’." - Bernard Pares, The Fall Of The Russian Monarchy A Study Of The Evidence

"The Tsar's youngest daughter was much the sprightliest and most entertaining. She had a comic gift as a mimic, picking out people's foibles in a way that made everyone laugh. "What a bundle of mischief," recalls her godmother, Grand Duchess Olga Alexandrovna, the Tsar's sister. There was also a serious side to Anastasia's nature. She had a restless, questioning intelligence. "Whenever I talked with her," says Count Grabbe, "I always came away impressed by the breadth of her interests. That her mind was keenly alive was immediately apparent." More than her sisters, Anastasia chafed under the narrowness of her environment and used her comic sense in revolt against it." - Count Alexander Grabbe, The private world of the last Tsar, in the photographs and notes of General Count Alexander Grabbe

"The Grand Duchess Anastasia Nicholaevna was sixteen or seventeen years old; she was short, stout and was, in my opinion, the only one in the family that appeared to be ungraceful Her hair was of a lighter color than that of Maria Nicholaevna. It was not wavy and soft, but lay flat on the forehead. Her eyes were grey and beautiful, her nose straight. If she had grown and got slim she would have been the prettiest in the family. She was refined and very witty. She had the talents of a comic actor, she made everybody laugh, but never laughed herself. It appeared as if her development had stopped and, therefore, her capacity faded a little. She played the piano and painted, but was only in the stage of studying both." - The Examination of Sidney Gibbes, The Last Days of the Romanovs

"The Grand Duchess Anastasia, I believe, was seventeen. She was over-developed for her age; she was stout and short, too stout for her height; her characteristic feature was to see the weak points of other people and to make fun of them. She was a comedian by nature and always made everybody laugh. She preferred her father to her mother and loved Maria Nicholevna more than the other sisters." - The Examination of Commissar E. S. Kobylinsky, The Last Days of the Romanovs

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