#Billy's turning fifty this year so

[clown-fromthe-sewers]

Billy Lenz should most definitely be a killer in dbd...or at least a skin!

Think about getting chased down by Billy as Barb or Jess- like, best thing ever!!!

Idk how the devs would do that, but I need it to happen so baddd!!!!!!!

#black christmas #black christmas 1974 #billy lenz #dbd #dead by daylight #he's an old man by now!!! #they should at least try i feel #Billy's turning fifty this year so #i think thatd be awesome for everyone interested in slasher movies and slasher history #also speaking of old slashers its only like...twenty something years til norman bates goes into free use right? looking out for the day #thats if i got the copyright law for that right after my two minute google search

[lucifertoxics]

missing pieces | marcus lopez arguello

pairing: marcus lopez x reader | genre: exes to lovers | warnings: angst, swearing, minors dni | word count: 1.3k | aura's note: this fic is for @chericherilvr who has an obsession with marcus like, so girly this is for you, enjoy🫶🏻

[ BACK TO MASTERLIST ]

Ever since you and Marcus broke up, your only mechanism was singing. To say the least, you were actually good at it. That's when you found yourself with your schools band practicing a cover. Unfortunately for you, the rain started pouring soon after you finished, which forced you to stay under a bus stop.

Sadly, as you did not own a car, you had to call your brother, Billy. He said he'd pick you up, but that's when you saw Marcus car, probably a stolen one, pull up in front of the school.

The two of you dated for 3 years, until you decided to end it, without giving him any reason why. That was 5 months ago, until now, you haven't talked since. The only person that you didn't want to see right now, surely, the break up was a complicated one to say the least.

"Get in." He says. From the tone of his voice, you knew one thing, he was pissed.

"No fucking way!" You say in an annoyed voice, crossing your arms. You two are like magnets and you didn't want to be stuck in a small place with him. He was bad for you. He brings out the worst in you.

"Are you seriously going to stand out here?" He says with the same tone. Marcus knows that he is being irrational, but he can't help it. He's just mad and heartbroken right now, seeing you just makes it even worse. He hates you for breaking his heart, but he's not going to let you know that.

You roll your eyes, knowing that he has a point never the less. And you wanted to be home faster, so having an argument with him, wasn't useful. As you open the passanger door to get into the car, you look at him.

Marcus starts the car and pulls out of the bus stop, onto the road. He doesn't say anything, just drives. The windshield wipers make loud screeches as they fight to get the rain off the windshield. The heater blasts as it tries to warm up the car from the outside cold. The air makes the windshield foggy. Then suddenly, Marcus sights loudly and looks over at you. As you were looking outside the window, gathering your thoughts about what just happened.

Turning around to look at him, you decided to ask him. "What?" Looking at him with confused eyes.

Marcus just stays silent, he just stares at you, trying to gather his thoughts. You can see his anger and frustration written all over his face. He doesn't want to look at you, he doesn't wang to look at anything. He's just so angry. Finally, he breaks the silence with a blunt ask. "Why did you dump me?"

"Marcus..." You look at him and then out the window, sighting, trying to find a good way to answer his question. You hate this situation that you're in. This was not the right time to talk about the break up, not with him.

The classic answer, and the one that he didn't want to hear. He hated when things were "complicated". He hates uncertainty. He wanted an answer and he wanted it now. His grip on the steering wheel tightens as his anger builds up. "Jusf answer me, god fucking damn it!" He snaps a little at you. He doesn't like losing his cool, but he's already too far gone.

"Because i'm leaving for university..." You talk in a low tone, looking outside the window. "I got accepted into Harvard." You explain yourself to him, staring at him, hoping he understands your intentions.

Marcus felt an intense wave of jealousy wash over him as soon as you finish the sentence. He could never get into Harvard. He's not smart enough. He knows you are and that bothers him. He hates that he feels jealousy of you, but he can't help it. "So you dumped me because you got accepted into a stupid school?" He says completely ignoring the fact that you're going to Harvard.

"A stupid school? I got a full scholarship to that stupid school." You say in an annoyed tone whie looking at him, feeling that he doesn't care about your achievement. "You'll only be three hours away.." You say trying to find something positive in your departure.

"Oh three hours away, really?" Marcus says sarcastically trying to ignore the jealousy that's building up inside of him. "And i'm sure that this full scholarship is a huge achievement." He says mockingly. Marcus knows damn well the school isn't stupid and he knows how hard getting a full scholarship there is but it just pisses him off so he can't help but belittle your achievement.

"It is, Marcus! I didn't want to leave you...I didn't want to leave you in the first place. I was scared that this won't work, us, fuck i want this to work out cause i miss you." I explain myself to him on a calm tone, trying not to be affected by his words. Coming closer as you say the words "I miss you"

The words "I miss you" make him soften up, but only for a bit. He still doesn't know if he should forgive you or not, but hearing those words come out of your mouth makes his heart feel a little warmer. He slowly turns to look at you more. He reaches his hand over and places it on your thigh, giving you a gentle squeeze. Marcus likes to hide his emotions but that small act kind of gave him away.

"I missed you! You have no idea..." You lean your head on his shoulder as he drives. The truth is that you missed him. His kisses. His hugs. His affection, You were craving it.

Marcus blushes a bit as you put your head on his shoulder. He can barely believe he's allowing you to do these things. Maybe part of him is ready to forgive you...but another part of him is not. He stays silent as he continues driving, his hand firmly planted on your leg. He can't help his attraction towards you and his desire for you. The silence is getting more intense as the minutes go by.

"My brother said that long distance relationships don't always work out...so that's why i thought it's for the best...but it's only three hours..." You say sighting interlacing your fingers with his, still having your head on his shoulder.

Marcus wanted to argue and say that three hours is too much but he knows is his own jealousy getting the best of him. A small part of him, a very small part, has forgiven you for breaking his heart. He's not completely over it but he's slowly starting to terms with it. "You know, I could drive over and see your every weekend." He says finally, turning to look at you as he tries to gauge your reaction.

"Really? You would do that for me?" You look at him surprised, hy his answer. Jumping into his arms, hugging him tight, still surprised by what he said.

Marcus freezes up with surprise. He was honestly prepared for you to reject him, but now? This is...unexpected. He feels your tight embrace and a wave of butterflies washes over him. He wraps his arms around you, holding you even tighter. "You can't get rid of me that easily you know?" He says with a smile, brush a piece of hair out of your face.

"I don't wanna get rid of you." You smile, looking at him as he brushes the hair from your face. That's when you take his face in your hands, smashing your lips to his.

What was once a small wave of butterflies now turns into a tidal wave of euphoria. Marcus is swept away by the kiss, he wraps his arms arouns you and pulls you in closer. All the emotions and feelings that have built up during the car ride come bursting to the surface. He kisses you hard and agressively, like he wants to make this moment last forever.

© LUCIFERTOXICS ⎯ do not repost, translate, plagiarise or claim any of my works as your own.

#Spotify #marcus lopez arguello #marcus lopez x reader #marcus lopez x you #marcus lopez x y/n #marcus lopez imagine #marcus lopez smut #writing #marcus x reader #deadly class #benjamin wadsworth #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo x you #mattheoxreader #mattheo x y/n #slytherin boys #slytherin

[rafescurtainbangz]

Two of a Kind (Billy Hargrove One Shot)

+18

Minor DNI

The two of you are headed out on vacation. If there is one thing that Billy has to be, it's early to the airport. When he decides to push your buttons, you push his right back. Has Billy met his match?

Dom!Dom, Sex toys, Brat, Oral (Female Receiving)

Your POV:

"Y/N!"

"William!" You shriek. "If you tell me to hurry up one more time I swear you're gonna be suckin' your own dick this trip. Jesus Christ! What are you fifty fuckin' years old?"

Billy chuckles darkly from the living room, taunting you further; driving you absolutely fucking insane. He sighs heavily, heaving himself up from the couch.

You hear his footsteps; the heels of his boots shuffling over your hardwood floor.

When I turn around he's going to be leaning into the doorframe. That smirk; a smolder in his eyes that makes me throb. And, all I'll get is a tease because this motherfucker needs to be at the airport four hours early.

For what?

You continue to stuff your clothes in your suitcase. Coercing the man with a lack of one of his favorite things... your attention.

He clears his throat as you continue to toil, leaving Billy no choice but to get physical to get what he wants. You.

Mmm... Then it's all over.

His heavy feet move closer. Anticipation builds as you feel his hips flush with your ass, he reaches down, taking a hold of your waist.

"Y/n..."

"Mhmm..." You hum as if it's nothing, leaning forward to reach for your heels "somehow" finding yourself in Billy's favorite position; your hips in his hands, taking you from behind; you, fucking him back.

"Goddamn," he grumbles; his hands circling your ass.

"Did you need something? I'm in a rush, apparently."

"Why are you ignoring me, baby?" He runs his hand up the middle of your back; the other, pulling your hips closer.

"Because Hargrove you're a fucking tease and you know it."

He lets out that same chuckle; velvety and low as his fingers weave through your hair at the nape of your neck.

Pull it, Billy... You know you want to.

He doesn't, moving his hips ever so slightly; pressing into you at the perfect tempo.

"You did this to me when we went to Cali. You did this to me when we went to Minnesota and Dallas; and New Orleans. You get me all fuckin' worked up, only to sit in an airport for hours. And I have this sinking feeling I'm gonna be dealing with this shit for the rest of my life."

Billy lets out a sigh, his finger tangling a little tighter through your curls; hips working just the slightest bit harder. His cock is stiff, rock hard in his practically painted-on Levi's jeans. You zip the big compartment of your luggage shut.

"I have had a long week at work. A long fuckin' year actually. I need this vacation. So, Billy... If you wouldn't mind taking a seat in the living room-."

"Excuse me?" He cuts you off, releasing his grip on your hair as you yank the small pouch open.

"I'm gonna take care of myself. M'kay!" You backchat; drawing out your vibrator, tossing it to the head of the bed.

"Jesus, Y/n," he gripes. A mix of annoyance and lust.

Turning around, you slink your hand up his thigh, landing on his dick; a rough enough touch for him to suck in a little air. He looks down, eyeing your hand on him. He tilts his head slightly, a wicked smile rolling across his lips.

"Get out, baby. Don't worry. I'll be fast. I'd hate to be only three hours and fifty-five minutes early. I mean Jesus Christ that'd be a fuckin' tragedy," you whisper; lips, brushing over his.

Looping your finger under your skirt you tug your panties over your hips watching as they fall to your feet, landing on Billy's foot. White lace atop his black leather boot.

He reaches for you again as you crawl onto the bed; his strong hand instantly tracing up your inner thigh; fingers, working softly over your slit as you move out of reach.

"5 minutes, baby. Then we're heading out," he smirks; continuing to fuck with you. He was already going to cave, the second he stepped into the room; you know exactly what he is waiting for... He wants you to beg.

"Sounds good," you smile as you brush the straps of your dress off your shoulders, letting the paisley material fall; exposing your white lace bra.

Billy's eyes darken; he wets his bottom lip with a smile.

You reach around your back, unclasping your bra; flicking it to the side. Your breasts bounce as you find the perfect position on the mattress. Billy smirks, casting his gaze away; shaking his head dizzily.

Relaxing into the pillows, you draw your legs up. Guiding the vibrator to your pussy you slide it effortlessly along your slick.

Now who's teasing who, Hargrove?

"You wouldn't." His eyes snap to yours.

"I would," you breathe as you flick it on, pressing the soft tip through your entrance. Your breath catches as you're met with rotations and vibrations; the toy starts to work its magic on you Your eyes shut softly.

Your hand drifts up your body gradually; fingers, reaching the blush of your breast, tracing your nipple slowly. Proceeding to the other side you tweak your nipple, rolling softly. A breathy moan slips your lips.

You can hear his feet, nearing your side of the bed. His presence is palpable; breathing softly. Billy's cologne delights your senses as well; warm vanilla, smoke, and leather, furthering your fire. An absolutely intoxicating scent.

"Fuck, Billy..." You whimper.

Do you say my name whenever you use your toys, baby?" He rasps.

"Oh my god," you sough; disregarding the question.

"Y/n; baby?" He breathes.

You turn it up a little higher; the buzzing noise loudens. Working the vibrator in and out, your thighs start to quiver.

He can hear how drenched you are; you, no longer frustrated, getting off on the idea of him it watching. "Shit," you hiss; flicking your eyes down, watching the blue shimmery silicone glimmering with your essence.

He's frustrated... You can see it in his eyes. A battle of stubbornness, wanting you to beg for him; wanting desperately to cave himself.

Your breathing starts to increase; your eyes shut again. Billy lets out a growl. His hand brushes yours; your eyes flick open watching as he mounts the bed; body hovering over you. Billy presses his lips against yours, taking the vibrator off your hands.

You smile against his lips; giggling delightedly. He draws it out fast, your breath escapes your chest.

"Billy! What the fuck?" You cry, breathlessly. He lets out a sinful chuckle against your lips, turning it off. "You're a fucking dick."

You push past him to stand up; Billy grabs your shoulder, forcing you back down on the bed, pressing you into the pillows roughly.

Fuck...

"You're stubborn, Y/n. And now, you're gonna beg."

You roll your eyes bringing your free hand up to your lips. Running two fingers along your tongue.

"The fuck I will..." You breathe; dragging your hand down to your cunt, continuing where you left off.

Billy steps off the bed, vibrator in hand; walking toward the door. "3 minutes, baby. Then we're heading out."

"Sounds good," you sing; pulling the drawer of your nightstand open roughly, allowing the knick-knacks to clatter inside; stopping Billy in his tracks.

"Mmm..." You whirr; drawing out a pink rabbit vibrator, turning it on.

BUZZ.

He turns around slowly, his eyes shifting to yours. You challenge him with your stare, lifting an eyebrow.

Billy walks toward you; eyes, driving into yours.

He stares down at you, watching you carefully as your pleasure begins to build again. Billy's rough finger meets your arm, tracing softly to your hand.

"Shit!" You gasp; Billy takes a rough grip on your wrist, taking you in shock.

"Drop. It."

"No."

"You're such a fucking brat," he snips; making you chuckle.

"A-And?" You stutter as your bliss builds.

"Why are you like this?" He laments; eyes, falling down your body; breasts jostling with each thrust of the toy.

"Why are you surprised?"

"God you're so fucking hot," he moans; his lips crash against yours; tongue swirling as you continue to play with yourself.

Billy pushes his hand between your thighs, taking it from you as you kiss; Billy, willingly accepts defeat. The only man you'll ever beg for. The man that owns your heart.

"Please don't stop," you plead; panting against his lips. You feel his smile, the two of you getting what you wanted.

"I love you, baby," he rasps.

"I love you too."

Billy thrusts it in at the perfect angle, the head of the vibration swirling against your G-spot; bunny ear; flicking at your clit.

Your stomach starts to coil; back, arching off the bed. "Are you gonna cum, Y/n?" Billy grunts as he continues to rut in and out.

"Mhmm," is all you can muster. "Fuck!" You whine as Billy turns it up higher. Your damn break; orgasm, ringing through your body as you flutter around the toy, moaning into your kiss.

"Holy shit... Fuck, Billy..." You ride the waves of your orgasm. Your body relaxes slightly; a little whimper releases against Billy's lips.

He moves lower on the bed, his pupils blown with lust. Billy dives his forearms underneath your thighs pulling you toward his lips.

More? Fuck...

He flattens his tongue, licking a line up your silk causing you to wail.

"Fuck, you're sweet," he moans; his eyes hooded. Billy curls his arms, forcing you closer as he locks onto your sensitive bud; sucking and flicking his tongue as you scream his name. He chuckles against your pussy.

Billy grabs your legs, slinging them over his shoulders. His fingers reach your skin; trailing dangerously close to where you're craving him most.

Reaching down you run your fingers through his hair, giving it a little tug. Billy groans, as a result, the vibrations make your eyes roll back.

His fingers swirl around your entrance, plunging in; one then two, a slight curl as you feel yourself nearing your peak again.

His thick fingers work against your g-spot causing you to dig your heels into his back. "Billy... I'm... I. Fuck!" Your second orgasm hits you harder than your first.

Billy continues to please you with a little more pressure, brushing his tongue from side to side as your body tightens around his fingers.

"Mmm... That's it, baby," he groans as you ride out your second release. Your heart, beating rapidly; reaching for a breath.

Billy presses his lips against your clit softly. His mouth, drifts higher and higher; showering you with kisses as he nears your lips.

You cup his cheeks, drawing him nearer. Billy kisses you deeply, relaxing his body into yours. Wrapping your arms around his neck you hug him tightly, craving his weight on top of you; the ultimate comfort.

"You are impossible," he grumbles; his lips, meeting your neck. He nips at your skin, just enough to pinch. You reach around, slapping him roughly on the ass. "Jesus," he whines; quickly returning to your lips.

"You're not giving me credit, Bills. I totally gave in."

"No, you didn't. Not until I fucking caved," he chuckles against your kiss.

"Mmm... That's true. So I won then?"

"No, I won, Y/n. The day I met you..." He buttons his lip, trying not to laugh.

"Ew..." You snicker; shaking your head 'no'. "That was so cheesy... " you bully.

He smiles warmly, giving you another kiss; a little softer, lingering a little longer. "You are perfect, Y/n," he sighs against your lips.

"So are you, Billy."

#billy hargrove blurb #billy hargrove oneshot #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove boyfriend #billy hargrove filth #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove x female reader #billy x reader #smut writing #smut warning #stranger things smut

[imtryingbuck]

Fifty Five

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky comes from a well respected family, he falls in love with a girl who prefers the simple things in life. Follow their journey through the years.

Word count: 1,280

Warnings: angst, heavy use of pet names. fluff. swearing. short and pretty much a filler sorry

A/N: No description of reader other than she has curly hair.

Masterlist   Series Masterlist

It's been ten years since Grace and Bunny's Haven opened, since then the manor went under construction adding another floor for more rooms, they had more women and children seeking safety than they had room for.

Robin was the only one that was still there from when the doors opened, the others finding freedom when their abuses went to prison or by moving far away with the help from Y/n. Robin asked to stay saying that she seemed to have found her calling, who was Y/n to say no to her?

Y/n was proud of who the young woman had turned into over the years. She had even paid for Robin to go to school, Robin got her degree in psychology and became a counsellor at the Haven, Y/n threw a party when Robin graduated, sitting front row and centre when the girl went onto stage. Robin would sometimes call her mom, apologising straight away but Y/n would wave her off.

Y/n walked down the hallway smiling as she heard the children laughing in the playroom, Lily and Rose eight year old twins of one of the women who had come to the Haven a few months back were sitting on the stairs smiling and waving at her when she walked past. 

As she came outside her steps halted at seeing Georgia and Billy kissing.

Yep that was happening. When Georgia turned fifteen Billy asked her out, Y/n, Bucky, Wanda and Vis watched as the sixteen year old turned bright red as he asked Georgia to be his girlfriend. Georgias face was bright red too as she nodded and said yes.

A year ago they had moved into an apartment together and from what Georgia had told Y/n everything was perfect between them. Y/n promised Billy that she wouldn’t say anything about him getting Georgia an engagement ring.

“Kissing on the job is really bad you know?” She said laughing when the pair jumped apart from each other.

“Hi mom didn’t see you there”

“Because you was busy trying to eat Bilbos face off that’s why”

“S-sorry Y/n” Billy spluttered nervously.

“Sure you are. Anyways get back to work we’ve got a new family coming today”

“Where’s dad?” Georgia asks following behind Y/n hand in Billy’s.

“Probably trying to eat the cake I told him specifically not to eat”

And sure enough that’s how they found him.

“Bunny where are you?”

“Kitchen”

“Is Georgia with you?”

“No”

Bucky strolls in with a box with a new cake after he and Steve ate the other. Kissing Y/n on her cheek before placing the box on the side. “How’s the new family settling in?”

“Good, I’ve rang Graham to see if they have an electric wheelchair I can buy as the youngest child’s wheelchair is damaged and I was thinking if he had an electric one that he could feel more free, you know?”

“What did Graham say?”

“Dropping it off tomorrow, I told Kim about it and she burst out crying, I felt so bad”

Wrapping his arms around Y/n he started dancing with her. “That’s good and probably because she’s overwhelmed Bunny, I read her file and it was bad”

“It was. Anyway what are you up to?”

“Dancing with my beautiful wife, what about you?”

“Dancing with my beautiful husband?”

“Aw you think I’m beautiful? That’s so sweet”

“Oh shut up and hold me closer”

Complying with her wishes he holds her closer to his chest, her head on his chest listening to the rhythmic beating of his heart they continue to dance around the kitchen.

Both completely unaware that Georgia was standing at the archway to the kitchen. Ever since she was little she loved seeing her parents dance, Bucky would always have his fingers playing with her moms long curly hair as they slow danced together. Half of the time there was never any music playing.

“I love you Bunny”

“I love you Ducky”

“I love you Georgia, aw I love you too mom and dad” Bucky looks up to see their daughter standing there, he gives her an amused smile before sticking his tongue out at her.

“You know we love you Georgie moo”

“Mom” Georgia whined at the nickname.

“Aw Bunny our Georgie moo don’t like it when you call her that”

“Oh no what will we do?”

“I don’t know you know? How about you go left and I’ll go right?”

“You got it”

When they look over at Georgia her eyes widen at seeing the mischievous glint in their eyes, before she has chance to back away her parents separate from each other, her mom going left and her dad going right.

Georgia starts to run whilst laughing at her parents who chase after her, loud giggles fill the empty house when Y/n grabs her and tickles her until they both fall on to the ground. Bucky joins in by tickling Y/n, knowing how ticklish she was.

They all go quiet when the front door comes open and Billy pops his head around the wooden door. “A-are you all okay?”

“Mom go left, dad go right and I’ll go straight” Georgia says quietly, all three get up and slowly walk towards Billy.

“No no no leave me alone guys please” Billy pleads but it was no use. He screams when all three of them practically pounce on him.

Bucky, Steve, Sam and Vis were on grill duty whilst the women talked about everything and anything. It was Georgias twentieth birthday and they were having a barbecue just like she asked for.

“Auntie Y/n c-can I talk to you for a second please?”

“No she’s my wifey!”

“Ignore your mom Billy Bob, of course what’s up?”

“P-privately please”

“Okay, help me up though I’m old” Billy takes her hand and helps her stand and they go inside into the kitchen. “What’s up bubs?”

“I-I-I was thinking about proposing to Georgia today, what do you think?”

“Do it! Oh Billy that’s amazing, do you have the ring with you?”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course, are you sure?”

“I love her more than anything Y/n, I swear”

“Then do it darling because I know she loves you just as much”

“O-o-okay I’m g-going to do it”

After agreeing with Y/n that he should do it after they’ve had something to eat they step back outside together, both ignoring the questioning looks from everyone.

An hour later when everyone’s bellies were full and satisfied Billy starts to stand, his eyes going straight to look at Y/n he releases a stuttering breath when she nods and smiles.

“G-Georgia can you come here a second please?”

“Okay, you alright?”

“I love you, I really love you and I was wondering i-if you would-“ Billy lets go of her hand kneeling as he pulls out a box out of his pocket “-Georgia Maria Grace Winnie Barnes will you marry me, please?” Billy asked as their family watched from the background, Wanda and Y/n clinging onto each other waiting for Georgia’s reply.

“Billy…this is awkward” hearing Georgia’s voice everyone’s hearts dropped to their stomachs, Y/n wanted to go over to hold Billy in her arms as soon as she saw his eyes glisten with tears.

“O-oh I-I’m sor-“

“No no no, it’s awkward because well-“ everyone gasped when they see Georgia getting down on one knee too, pulling a box out of her pocket “-I was going to ask you the same thing”

“Ah, well ask me then”

“Billy Maximoff will you marry me, please?”

“Yes. What about you?”

“Of course I’ll marry you”

The whole backyard erupts in cheers as the young couple exchanges rings and kiss.

<Previous   Next>

Tags: @cjand10 @unaxv @mcira @bisexualnikkisixx @kneelforloki @kandis-mom @sagebarness @sandyruston @scott-loki-barnes @nikkivillar @saltedcoffeescotch @scentedharmonymiracle @examinarei @sarcastickiddo @sadboiabby @unholyhuntress @8crazy-freak8 @ijustneedpopcorn @moonbeampillgoth @imcinnamoons @elmo-1066 @violetwinterwidow01 @suz7days @adoredire @ozwriterchick @randomrosie01 @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @emerald-writes @justafangir1 @sibsteria @spencerreidisagorgman @sapphirebarnes @bruher @hawkinsavclub1983 @onlyonetifosi @parisadams @unabashedstarlightcrown @nash-dara @allofffmypeaches @loki-laufeyson68 @behindmygreyeyes @missvelvetsstuff @pigeonmama @lizslibrary @gloriouspurpose01 @gaya-is-weird-af

#marvel #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barns x y/n #Through The Years #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky x y/n #Bucky Barnes series #James Barnes #Bucky Barnes angst #Bucky series #bucky barnes x y/n #Bucky Barnes fluff #James Barnes fluff #james barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes friends to lovers

[ladykailitha]

Well Met By Moonlight Part 5

Hi guys, I want to thank everyone who commented on the most recent Royal Pain and all the people that commented on the Midsummer's AU. I saw some that I hadn't seen comment in awhile and it made me so happy to see them back. I missed you all.

Here we have more of Wayne being badass. I know it feels like he's the main character right now, but trust me it will shift to the younger members soon enough.

And I got the chapter two to work finally, so I will be linking to the original from now on.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

***

Sun down on the following Saturday saw Wayne Munson in front of the whole town. Businesses closed. Only the hospital, fire and police station remained opened and they only had the most basic of crews.

Behind him on his left were Steve and Nancy and on his right were Billy and his bride, Heather. In front of him were the five boys that had attacked Steve.

Mayor Roberts stood between the two sets holding a microphone, he too was flanked. Sheriff Danny Powell stood on his right and Jim Hopper stood on his left.

“Welcome everyone. It is a sad day in Hawkins when we have to meet like this. I know it is hard on the lives and livelihoods of the people of this fair town. But a sickness has come to this town. The mindset of those not like being othered, seen as monsters and demons.”

The crowd murmured and hummed.

“But this town was not founded on those ideals. It was founded on peace and brotherhood between all its people. The humans, the vampires, and the werewolves. For nearly one hundred and fifty years this town has stood as testament to kinship that it has fostered. Which is why it is with much trepidation I have made the decision to let Sheriff Daniel Powell go as police chief of our fair town.”

The murmurs became more angry and sharp.

“He was told by several members of this community that these five boys before me were up to no good. That they would cause harm. Vampires and werewolves alike came to your sheriff with concerns and he waved them away. Regular people such as yourselves came to him that these boys meant serious harm to the supernatural members–nay to your neighbors and still he waved them away. Is that the type of man you want to protect and defend your town?”

Sheriff Powell looked down in shame as the crowd let out small cries of distress. Because no, that wasn’t what the town wanted. Most of them had thought him a good man. But this cast doubt on that very image. If he would turn a blind eye to a threat to a supernatural person, would he do the same to a black man or woman of ill repute, just because he didn’t care for their kind?

“Jim Hopper has graciously offered his assistance in stepping back into his old position of police chief. He will hold it until it is time to elect a new sheriff and with hope he will run then, as well.”

Hopper smiled and shook his head. “We’ll see,” he growled.

Mayor Roberts smiled back. “I will now turn the time over to Wayne Munson.”

Powell moved off to the one side and Mayor Roberts and Chief Hopper moved to the other. Wayne stepped up and an eerie silence descended on the crowd.

“It appears I’ve been too soft on this town,” Wayne growled, his voice reaching every corner of the town hall without the aid of the microphone. “Hunters think they can just come into my town, my territory and hunt people like a pack of feral dogs.”

The boys were forced to kneel in front of the crowd. Their hands were tied behind their backs and they bowed their heads.

“These are the children you raised,” Wayne told the crowd. He picked up something from the table next to him and held it up. “A foot trap made of silver. Considered inhumane to animals used to trap a nineteen year old boy, not much older than themselves. Yes, Steven Harrington is no average boy, but he is young nonetheless.”

He threw a few feet in front of the crowd, it clanging noisily to ground, the people in the front leaping back. He picked up the shattered pieces of the cross they had nailed Steve to.

“They bound him in silver to a wooden cross!” Wayne snarled. He threw the pieces after the trap.

The whole crowd gasped in horror as the pieces clattered to the floor. He picked up the final object off the table and held it above his head.

It was a metal bat. Not silver, but deadly all the same. The tip was rust red. Wayne threw to the ground as he had done the others. “They were beating him with this.”

“These are your children!” he growled. “Have I not been good to you? Have I not been kind?”

There were murmurs among the crowd.

“You have forgotten you are are under my protection!” Wayne roared. “Without me the pack and coven would have free rein of the town, like the roving gangs of old. You are fortunate that the current alpha and Dominus are generous. Do you not recall the terror that ruled under alpha Jack Sullivan before I tore his pack to pieces? Do you not remember the children that were be experimented on under the Dominus Dr Martin Brenner? Before Billy Hargrove came and cleaned out the lab and the coven that reeked of death?”

The crowd was stock still. Pin dropping would sound like thunder in that hall.

“Five years for Brenner,” he continued. “Ten years for Sullivan. Mere drops in the bucket of time for someone as old as myself, but to you? Far too long. That they were able to hide from me their ills for as long as they did, was an abomination. But they were summarily dispatched when I did find out.”

The crowd became restless.

“So I have passed judgment upon these youths,” Wayne said. “The two younger boys, Joshua Bentley and Chance Nelson will learn the ways of the pack and of the coven. Spending six weeks with each sect to unlearn the hate you taught them.”

The crowd let out a sigh of relief. That was good punishment for the two boys.

“Andy Duncan will be tried as a child,” he continued. “For criminal mischief and conspiracy to commit assault. It is likely that he will be forced to spend his time at a youth facility where he will remain until he turns eighteen. Then it will be up to the courts to move him to an adult facility or release him.”

The crowd took up the murmuring again as this was a little more harsh then the other boys, but still lenient.

Wayne grabbed Jason and Patrick by their collars and hauled them bodily to their feet.

“As for these two boys,” he snarled, “the mayor wants to try them as adults for use of an illegal trap,” the boys rolled their eyes, “assault with a deadly weapon,” Patrick gulped, but Jason was still smug, “conspiracy to commit murder,” Jason was mentally counting the number of years he would get and tilted his head like it was acceptable while Patrick turned white, “and for attempted murder.”

Jason looked shocked for the first time, he didn’t think they would go for the attempted murder charge, he had been told by his lawyer that it was unlikely because of how young they were. “And because of the laws of this town are unique, they will also be tried for supernatural hunting. A crime punishable by death.”

Patrick fainted and Jason threw up. Josh who had been sitting nearby, leapt out of the way of the vomit.

“But I am merciful,” Wayne continued, slowly lowering the unconscious Patrick to the ground. “They will spend time with me for six months and then I will make my own recommendations to the judge on the charges to proceed with.”

That was when Jason fainted, right into the pile of his own sick.

The crowd’s relief was palpable. Everyone was murmuring with agreement and elation.

“Let this be a lesson to you all,” Wayne concluded. “I am merciful, but test me one more time and you too will face my wrath.”

“Go!” he barked and everyone in the hall turned and fled.

All that was remaining was the mayor, Sheriff Powell and the six supernatural beings.

“Will you being staying in our town?” Wayne asked Powell.

Powell shook his head. “No. I got a job lined up in Chicago. I wasn’t meant for small town politics. I put my own prejudices ahead of the lives of the citizens of this town.”

“You still gonna be a copper?” Hopper asked.

Again he shook his head. “No, I can’t risk making the same mistake in a bigger town. I’m going to teach self-defense.”

They all nodded.

Mayor Roberts patted Powell’s arm. “You’re a good man who made a bad decision, don’t let this moment define the rest of your life.”

Powell nodded. He gave the mayor’s shoulder a squeeze and walked away.

“There goes a deeply troubled man,” Nancy said. “Do you think he’ll be all right?” She hugged her sides.

“Chicago is the best place for him to find that out,” Billy said. “It will either consume you or learn enough about yourself to survive.”

Steve put his arm around her and she leaned into his comfort.

“I hope the town can heal from this,” Mayor Roberts said. “There has been so much pain and hurt in this town in the last decade. I’m not sure how much more it can take.”

Wayne shook his head. “This town survived two world wars and a Great Depression, it will survive this.”

Mayor Roberts smiled sadly. “It is good to have such a long perspective, my friend.” He squeezed Wayne’s shoulder and slipped away, leaving behind the three vampires and three werewolves.

Hopper scratched the back of his head, sheepishly. It was strange look on the werewolf. “I’ve never been police chief and not the alpha before.”

“I prefer it,” Billy said with a low growl. “It means the werewolves are a little more even in terms of power in this town.”

Steve nodded. “I agree. It’s better this way. The sheriff needs to be supernatural in the way that the mayor must be human. A vampire sheriff would be weak during the day and even having a thrall as deputy would divide the power in a way that would make them weak. But a werewolf being sheriff ensures that everyone has a say.”

Wayne nodded back.

“Thank you for coming out, Steve,” he said, “I know this wasn’t easy for you, reliving your trauma.”

Steve scoffed. “If I didn’t, I would look weak and open myself and the pack to further attacks. Not just from the anti-supernatural quarter either. Other packs would think us easy prey. Vampires would attack us to feed on.” He glanced over at Billy and Heather and sneered. “I don’t have the favor of the current Dominus, not like our previous one did.”

Hopper looked down at his feet.

Billy smirked. “Come on, Heather,” he drawled. “Let’s go, babe.”

Heather simpered. “Anything you want.”

Billy licked his lips slowly. “Promise?”

She giggled and they walked out, with his arm around her waist as he whispered dirty things to each other.

Wayne watched them with a shake of his head. There were some disadvantages to having such a young Dominus. With a sigh he turned back to the werewolves.

“Thanks for doing this, Jim,” Wayne said, patting his back. “I know it’s not easy to come back this job, especially since you were hoping to spend more time with Jane.”

Hopper sighed. “I just hate that I have to step up in this way.”

Steve kissed the top of Nancy’s head. “Let Hop take you home, I still have some things to go over with Wayne.”

Nancy nodded and slipped out from under his arm.

Steve and Wayne watched them go.

“I was always surprised you made her alpha female,” Wayne said thoughtfully. “Not after what happened between you.”

Steve hummed. “I didn’t have a lot of options. It was either Joyce or her and I didn’t trust Joyce.”

Wayne nodded. “Who would have you picked if you had your choice?”

Steve smiled fondly. “Robin hands down, but right now she more valuable to me as a keeper then alpha female.”

“You really do have a good head on your shoulders, Steve,” he said, his smile crinkling his eyes. “Now, go reassure my boy that kiss on Nancy’s head was friendly, eh?”

Steve frowned. Wayne pointed to the back of the hall where a solitary figure waited.

Steve shook his head. “Has he always been the jealous type?”

Wayne laughed. “No, just when it comes to you.”

Steve hopped down from the stage and strolled over to Eddie. He wrapped his arms around the other boy and kissed him deeply.

“Oh,” Eddie said with a blush.

“Yeah,” Steve murmured. “Only you, okay?”

Eddie nodded.

“Come on, sunshine,” Steve said, his voice low and gravely, “I’m going to spend all night showing you how much I’m only yours.”

“Point me in the right direction, big boy.”

The two went off, not as giggly and overt as Billy and Heather, but just as heated, and definitely more in love.

Wayne looked up at the ceiling. “If there is a god, watch over those two, please. They are going to need it.”

***

Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk ​ @renaissan-vvitch @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @justforthedead89 @emly03 @bookworm0690 @bookbinderbitch @littlewildflowerkitten @vecnuthy @redfreckledwolf @scheodingers-muppet @mira-jadeamethyst @just-a-tiny-void @potato-of-the-lord @goosesister

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #werewolf steve harrington #vampire eddie munson #ladykailtiha writes

[automaticpizzahologram]

Hi I don't speak German so sorry if I translate wrong.

Part 2

Y/n and Billy are both 16

I tie my apron around my waist and clip on my notepad and slip some pens in my pocket on my apron. My waitress uniform is a plain black pencil skirt, a white shirt, ablack tie, black apron, and black high heels.

I quickly put my hair up in my butterfly clawclip and walk in to the kitchen of the small restaurant. I work for work experience and some extra pocket money. I get 10 per hour and I work 3 hours so I get 30 every time I work which is awesome.

The restaurant is a cozy place that always smells nice, there's under fifty seats which is good for me because I normally work with one other girl, I get the impression that she doesn't like me that much because she gives me dirty looks. To be honest I don't know what I've done I met her a month ago when I started working here.

The restaurant is a Italian restaurant called Angerlos and luckily for me it's just a few streets away from where I live.

"hey y/n working again tonight."

" Hey Nelly , yeah I need the cash" Nelly is our chef, he's pretty cool. Nello is a big, balled, buff man, he looks quite intimidating when you first meet him but he's actually really sweet when you get to know him.

" well I hope you good luck"

"thanks" Nelly turns back around to what ever he's making, it smells heavenly, I walk out of the kitchen doors and into the dining part of the restaurant. I immediately jump into work finding a table to serve straight away.

I carefully bring a tray of hot food, hoping that I don't drop it, to a table.

"here you go one Italian style pizza and one sweet chilli chicken wings with salad and sour cream and chiv dip. if your not pleased tell me and I'll take it back for you. Enjoy" I place the two plates on the table and tuck the round tray under my arm. I gave the couple a smile and turn around and head back to the kitchen

" Hey y/n, apparently there's going to be a group coming in soon in about 15 minutes we've been old that they'll be recording some stuff, I don't know what it's for though"

"OK. Thanks Nelly" I place the tray back on the counter.

I spot some new people come in so I walk over to them and direct them to an empty table, I give the trio some menus and tell them I'll be back soon to take their order if they have decided.

I finish cleaning down a table when I hear the door open, I turn around and look at the door seeing what I presume is the group that's going to be filming. I see the other girl, Amanda, go over to the group, lead them to the biggest table we have, give them the menus and lingers at the table for a little too long.

I turn back around and Potter back on with my work

After about 14 minutes I hear the door open and shut. I turn around and see my best friend of 7 years standing at the door with a big smile on her face. I walk over to her and try to be as professional as I can, but with Pheobe it's hard

Pheobe is 5'2, with shoulder length curly ginger hair. She has freckles that cover almost all her face, her green eyes go well with her hair.

S

he really likes art, that's actually how we met in art class in primary school, i was new and she was the first person who was nice to me, we have been best friends since. I wouldn't swap our friendship for anything.

" I would like your finest table madam" she says with a rather bad posh accent.

" of course only the best for you , right this way milady" I say back in a terrible accent back. Pheobe bursts out laughing grabbing the attention of a few near by tables.

I lead Pheobe to the last empty table which happens to be right next to the table of the group

Pheobe, not so grateful, Sits down and looks at the menu for a split second before ordering.

"I would 3 a cowboy burger please with chips and onion rings please and for my drink I would like a diet coke, thanks "

I quickly scribble down her order, blowing a piece of hair out of my face I look up at her.

"I'll get it to you as soon as possible"

But before I could go and take Pheobes order to the kitchen a man from the table next to us gets my attention

" excuse me but we haven't been see yet and we have been waiting for a while to order"

"I'm so sorry I thought that Amanda was serving you, I'll take this order to the kitchen then I'll be right with you, I'll be just one second "

I quickly turn around and walk to the kitchen and through the doors, I clip the order onto the stand and walk back out.

As I'm walking back to the group I get my note pad out and click my pen open ready to take their orders.

"Hi, I'm so sorry for the wait what can I get for you" as I look at the group I spot two familiar faces but I can't remember where I've seen them from.

" would we be able to get these Please" the man hands me one of the restaurants order menus where you can write what you want instead of telling me, in big groups like this it makes my job much easier.

"of course you can, I'll give this to the chef and I'll get your drinks for you now. And again I'm so sorry for the wait" I turn around and walk back into the kitchen and put the sheet on the counter.

"nelly, can you make this one as soon as possible please, its the big groups and I thought Amanda was serving them, in fact I haven't seen her for a while. They have been waiting for over 15 minutes and the wait to be served has never been that long"

Nelly looks around for a quick second and nods his head.

I go to the bar and get there drinks, Four diet cokes, and 3 lemonades. I put the drinks on a large-ish round tray and walk back over to the table.

"here's your drinks. Your meals won't be to long. If there's anything wrong please don't hesitate to tell me"

"thank you" this time it wasn't a man but it was one of the people that look familiar.

"no problem, as I said your food shall be with you shortly until then enjoy" I walk away from the group and as I'm walking I catch Pheobe looking at me then at the group then at me again, I think nothing of it.

I hear the bell that signals that an order is ready, I look over my shoulder and see that it's Pheobe's burger. I walk into the kitchen and pick up her burger and star to carefully walk over to her table. I take the plate off of the tray and on to the table.

" here you go, one cowboy burger with chips and onion rings, enjoy"

"why thank you, this looks delicious"

I glance at the table next to Pheobes and quickly make eye contact with one of the members of the group. I give him a quick smile and and he smiles back his eyes lighting up, it suddenly clicks.

Thats why they look familiar their the two kids from the park from the other day how could I not remember him. I spot the camera it's a small black video camera and it's pointing to the 4 younger ones. They probably have a YouTube channel or something .

I turn my head away from the table and look at phoebe who's happily munching on some chips. "my breaks in like 6 minutes so save me some chips will ya.

I place the plates on to the table.

" here you go, again I'm so sorry about the wait, if there's anything wrong please tell me and I will sort it out" I make eye contact with Bill again and he's the one to smile first, the only lady of the group says something in German, and the man laughs, bill has a look on his face and the 3 others laugh as well.

I take of my apron then placing it on the back of the chair while I sit down on Pheobes table, taking the couple of chips she saved me and shoving them in my mouth.

"so who's that" she says in a hushed voice, leaning slightly over the table.

" who's who?" I say back in a hushed tone

"the one who keeps looking at you all the time, longish black hair"

"oh him, I met him in the park the other day as I was leaving I dropped my waterbottle and he picked it up for me"

Pheobe stops leaning over the table and stops talking in a hushed tone.

"how longs your break for?"

" 10 minutes then I have to go back to work for another half hour until I can go home"

"Not bad, I would stay till your shift ends but I need to be home in 15 minutes."

"that's OK"

We talk until my break ends

" I'll probably see you tomorrow for our weekly video call?"

I tie my apron around my waist again. "yep, 7 pm" I say picking up her plate

"I'll see you then, bye"

"bye"

I turn around and take her plate back to the kitchen then going back to cleaning up, out the corner of my eye I spot Amanda sneakily taking a picture of Bill and his group, they must either be pretty famous or she's a creepy stalker.

I turn to look at her and she gives me a discusted look as if I were the one taking the picture of them with out their permission, which is illegal. I roll my eyes and turn back around and continue to clear a table.

After about 15 minutes I quickly glance at Bill's table and notice they have finished eating and have stacked the plates, gosh I love when people do that, I walk over to the table.

"hi did you find everything alright"

"we did, thank you. Actually can we have 3 waters please"

"of course just let me take your stuff away and I'll get them for you straight away"

I pick the plates up and take them away to the kitchen. I walk over to the fridge and pick 3 bottles of water out, I grab 3 glasses and place some ice in the them . I pour the water into the cups and then place them on a small round tray.

I use my hip to push open the kitchen door because I have both my hands on the tray trying not to spill the drinks.

Carefully I walk over to the table, I manage to successfully not spill the water.

"here's your water" I place the drinks on the table and pick up the other cups and take them away.

It's five minutes until my shift ends, I'm cleaning down a table when I feel a tap on my shoulder, I straighten up and turn around to see who it was

"hi, i wanted to know if you wanted to go somewhere after your shift ends"

"oh Um sure I finish in about 5 minutes"

I look at the clock to see thay my shift has ended, I go into the kitchen and hang up my apron and pick up my bag.

"bye nelly. See you Thursday"

I walk back into the dining area and spot bill on his table, his group left about 10 minutes ago, looking down at his phone, his back was facing me so it was pretty easy to sneak up on him. I creep up behind him and peer over his shoulder. My face is next to his right ear

"what ya doing"

Bill jumped ever so slightly, I was expecting more of a reaction but its still a reaction.

I laugh slightly, Bill stands up from the table and slides his phone into his back pocket of his baggy jeans.

#bill kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz #tokio hotel #fem reader

[robthegoodfellow]

May I Find You One December RENAMED Here I Go Again

1: Don't Know Where I'm Going, Sure Know Where I've Been

for @fizzigigsimmer

(caligator, referenced past harringrove, age difference, referenced character death, references to neofascism/evangelicalism)

.

Billy’d been warned against stopping in Stark County, but when you had to go, you had to go—and anyway, he was running low on gas. And snacks. 

And, since he wasn’t a spring chicken anymore, it’d be wise to get out, work the rust from his joints a bit. 

Glancing around as he filled the tank, the town looked normal enough; your average main drag in Middle of Nowhere, North Dakota. Couple sleepy shops, general store, dinky diner—one of those blue lives matter flags hanging limp by the door, vivid polyester garish against all the beige. 

Basic shit. 

No obvious signs of a place under the iron thumb of a white nationalist evangelical militia, and he was just about to roll the dice on that diner, maybe snag a coffee and a slice of pie, when a police cruiser ambled into view, pulled into the fueling station opposite.

Just his fucking luck.

Billy studied the pump, face schooled a pleasant bland. Marveled at how, even after all these years, his days of tussling with fascist pigs long behind him, the same wolves were stirring in his head. One baring its teeth on a low growl, ready and willing to tear the fucker to shreds, the other poised, still as stone, itching to turn tail and run at the first sign of trouble.

At fifty years old—fifty plus, but who was counting—he preferred neither option. The meter clicked off, and he watched his hands replace the nozzle, screw on the gas cap.

Even his hands were fucking old. Thicker—blocky knuckles. Veins starting to bulge. Grandpa hands. 

Sense memory flashed, suppressed so quick and smooth it left barely a ripple. Wouldn’t do to indulge in fond longing for those gay glory days, for the hands he still missed like phantom limbs, some nights, this aching absence. Not within spitting distance of a patrol car. 

Because why test the thought police, right? He could reminisce on youthful love lost when he was back on the highway, heading west.

Good boy, he heard, like Billy had a tin can cupped to his ear, the string trailing off into the fog of time. 

So strange what stayed sharp, he mused, rounding the hood, gripping his keys. Behind him, the cruiser door swung open with a creak. Like—despite the photos, it was hard to really conjure the face, hold it steady in his mind. A face through a window in the rain, and more so as the years slid by. But that voice still whispered clear as day—sometimes a Jiminy Cricket, keeping Billy out of trouble, sometimes a little prankster demon, pure trickster. 

And the hands. The feel of those hands had never left him, touch embedded in the skin.

He sniffed, ducking his chin, scolding himself. So much for smothering his inner queer.

The door was open, sanctuary of the driver’s seat calling his name, when something drew his attention across the way—some movement, maybe, or shift in the air. Pulling his gaze, against his better judgment, to meet the bored stare of the emerging cop.

His chest—seized, breath caught in tight lungs by a tighter throat. Distantly wondered if this was what a heart attack felt like—crushed in a cold fist.

Because the eyes staring back at him were Steve’s. The furrowed brow above lips pinched in a frown. The lines of his jaw, his nose. Like the rain had stopped and he could see him clear through the pane. Then the lips twisted, a sudden sneer, straight out of senior year.

“Got a problem, pal?” 

Billy blinked rapid, took in the flak jacket and badge announcing him as the Sheriff’s stooge, the douchey camo hoodie layered underneath, dark hair slicked back, sides shaved like he’d stepped off the cover of Nazi Vogue.

What the fuck.

“Asked you a question, old man.”

Billy coughed, half a laugh, half choke, and shook his head. Same voice—his voice. Steve’s. Only the tone was all wrong—mean and self-important—more like… like Billy, once upon a time.

Like if his old bratty attitude and Steve’s voice had a baby. That’s what he was hearing right now. Like—

Wrenching his brain back on track, Billy rebooted. Cut him off before the brat could launch another volley.

“Sorry, officer,” he said, and couldn’t help it—the amusement thrumming beneath the words, or more accurately, the unhinged hysteria. “Must be going senile.”

The eyes narrowed—assuming that if he wasn’t in on the joke, he must be the butt of it.

“In fact,” Billy went on, blindly following some instinct, he knew not where. “Think I might be having some heart trouble.”

The cop did not spring to the aid of a needy citizen, but eyed him skeptically. “You smell burnt toast?”

“That’s for a stroke,” Billy corrected, and he’d gone and done it again—only this time a fondness threading the wry mockery. “Heart attack is pain in your arm and whatnot.”

The brat didn’t shoot him dead for perceived disrespect, which was something. Really he just seemed—confused. Baffled. And boy, Billy was right there with him.

This wasn’t Steve, he reminded himself. Wasn’t him. Just a random dead ringer in Middle of Nowhere, North Dakota, a likely foot soldier in the brutal local militia.

And Billy should just leave him to it, obviously. Because this wasn’t Steve.

So—bid the doppelganger adieu, get the hell out of dodge. Billy cleared his throat.

“Don’t suppose protect and serve extends to helping some geezer find a place to eat while he rests awhile?”

Now the perplexed indignation was out in force, head tilted so far to the side it was liable to roll off his neck.

Hand to God, Billy thought he’d kicked the death wish long ago—his Y2K resolution—and yet here he was. Still talking, coaxing the neofascist to come closer, chucking all caution to the wind for a pair of pretty, over-familiar eyes.

“C’mon,” he said, and made the smirk self-deprecating. “I make it across the street without keeling over, I’ll buy ya a coffee.”

The brat straightened, something like tolerant intrigue settled in the quirk of his brow. “All right, then, old timer.” As they stepped off the sidewalk: “Don’t expect me to hold your elbow or nothing.”

“Oh, nah,” Billy replied, waving him off. “Dignity won’t allow it.” And then—he winked. Winked at the boogaloo boy. He’d lost his mind. Farewell, sanity.  “Name’s Billy.”

No response from the boy in blue until they reached the diner steps. “I’m Gator,” he said, hauling the door open, gruffness at odds with the tinkling bell.

To his credit, Billy didn’t break down into gibbering laughter.

Gator. This asshat wearing Steve’s face, this Duck Dynasty heir apparent—was named Gator.

Way off in Indiana, Steve must’ve been rolling in his grave.

Next

#idk where this came from #idea swamped me in the car this morning #caligator #but also make it angsty harringrove #billy hargrove #gator tillman #more to come?? who knows

[aconflagrationofmyown]

“Favorite Face”

a Sarge & lil Mama scene (Elvis Presley fanfiction)

Rating PG13 a tickle fight with a few little angsty confessions, sorry

Circa: 1967

Giving this blurb business a try, hope y’all enjoy and I swear I’m gonna fill in the plot gaps soon 💋

“Do you know what my favorite of your faces is?”she offered.

“Well, no, no I-I-I’m not sure I do.”

“It’s this one,” Elaine murmured before explaining a little more in full, “it’s this, you turned on your side facing me with the sheets pulled up to your chin and your hands under your cheek and it’s how expectant and happy you look to be in bed with me. Like you just can’t wait to chat or tease or make love, like the best part of your day is beginning when you bound in here next to me every night.” she reached out and flicked a lock of mussed black hair off his forehead and he coulda been seventeen or fifty right now, all his years established in the soft, almost bashfully reverent face absorbing her words. “I should probably say my favorite face of yours is when you’re belting a high C on stage or when you first see one of our baby’s. Or maybe even something sultry, the way you look in a sex act but, but no,” she mused, “it's this one. Like we aren’t only children anymore, now that we’ve got each other.”

They’d had each other for over a decade now. He gripped the hand that was soothing back his hair and peppered kisses to her palm.

“I’d return the compliment but-“ Elvis turned his face further into the pillow at her expectant little expression, “but-but mine, i-it ain’t wholesome l-l-like that. Like yours. Not if I’m bein’ honest.”

“Well, ya must be honest.”

“I know!” his red face was nearly buried in the pillow by this point.

“Life is balance, Naughty, as you so often tell me.” she grinned. “Wouldn’t do if we were both wholesome. C’mon, tell me.”

“I can’t,” he moaned into his pillow, fully face first by now, “T-t-that w-w-were t-too sweet.”*

“You know this is just making me more curious.”

“I don’t care if you’re curiouser than ya ever been, I ain’t gonna.” He folded the pillow’s sides up around his ears for further privacy.

Elaine smiled and watched the back of his head, calculating that she’d probably fall asleep before he ran out of breath, the man didn’t seem to need to breathe like other folks -she would know.

“I’m gonna tickle it outta ya then.” he heard her warn him through the cotton covering his senses and before he could so much as brace she was straddling his back, her bare skin rubbing against his back and her horrid little talons wiggling into his arm pits.

“Goddamnit woman, I take it all back,” he yelled and he knew even then it was futile to try to buck her off, she had been married to him for ten years and he’d never managed it but he sure gave it another try this night, “there ain’t a wholesome bone in your body. A cruel, cruel woman, thas what you are.”

He resorted to dirty, tried, and true tricks to throw her off, tricks he had kept to himself from the locals at Billy Bob’s honky-tonk in Fort Worth where Elaine had won five rounds on the mechanical bull and near bankrupted the house in bets.

Elvis tickled her feet.

The angle wasn’t superb but it was all he had left, penned on his belly like this. He retaliated her treatment in kind, wiggling a fingertip in her arches and she shrieked and bucked and started to smack his shoulders which was strictly against the Geneva Code regarding tickling warfare but they’d had that talk before and Elaine remained as unorthodox as those Cuban rebels.

“Just tell your wife, come on now.” she urged, becoming terribly cruel when she left off his arm pits and leaned back, not to pry his hands off her feet as he first expected, but to tickle the crease of his thighs where he was most vulnerable.

“Not my ass!” he screamed like a terrified novitiate, finally pulling his face outta the pillow to heave in a gulp of air.

“Just tell me.” she cooed, the manicure he paid for causing terrible little tingles all along his thighs until he wanted to weep.

“You’re slickin’ my back up! You’re enjoyin’ my misery, ya damn pervert!” he remonstrated while doing his best to roll his back like a wild mustang and buck her off.

Elaine’s thighs remained made of steel.

Where was their pile of children in the bed when he needed them? Where was Jack and his vaguely alarming and decidedly frustrating mommy entitlement when Elvis could actually appreciate it?

“Come on, just tell me,” she rolled with every buck he gave her, not even breathless when he rose up on all fours like some pantomime of a piggy back and tried throwing her that way, “is it when you’ve glazed my hair?” She started to guess, and that was maybe, somehow worse.

“No.” He denied, and tried a few more moves he’d seen the Great Danes pull when the kids tried to get on their backs.

“When you’re in my mouth?” Elaine asked sweetly and now that he was out of the sheets she took full advantage of reaching beneath and tickling his belly.

“No, no, no!” he swore, both to her actions and her guesses.

Finally, all other tactics having failed, Elvis rolled them both and crushed her beneath his back on the bed, taking petty enjoyment in the rib creaking grunt she let out as his weight smashed her diaphragm.

“I feel like the mouse the elephant stepped on in the kids’ book.” Elaine wheezed in his ear and he wiggled to get comfier in the cradle of her thighs, backwards from the way this was usually done and thoroughly enjoyable.

Elvis was wondering why they didn’t cuddle like this more often when her legs wrapped back around his hips and interlocked over the vulnerable juncture of his thighs; suddenly he got the feelin’ he’d miscalculated.

He didn’t wait for one of those red hot nails to pinch his nipple, he grabbed it in route and bit it. “If ya must know,” he mumbled around the digit, irrationally glad that he was at least facing away from her for this, “i-i-it’s when, when ya lemme suck at ya, nurse off ya, you jus’ look so, I dunno so, so nurturin’ lookin’ down at me from up there an’ —I dunno, gets me hot. You know that.” he trailed off, admitting even to his wife that he enjoyed giving up his fiercely prized control, a momentous effort even after all these years.

It struck Elaine as a rather wholesome thing in itself, in the context of their little world. She was expecting something more -nasty, male, degrading, claiming. She knew he felt like he ought to have said one of those others, unnaturally stiff in her arms suddenly. He was about two seconds away from retracting it all or bolting to the fridge for a snack, she knew, so she leaned her head next to his, nuzzling his temple for a minute before sticking her tongue in his ear.

He shouted again and jolted in her arms. “God, enough tormentin’ me!” he growled, making no move to leave from his fleshy cradle.

“Does this mean ya miss it?” she dared softly, far, far more risky a thing to say than any confession made tonight.

It had been awhile, years in fact, since she’d last had any milk. Saying it was God’s Will didn’t make it hurt less.

“Yes.” the rumble of his voice vibrated her front after a heavy pause. “Terribly, actually.” he offered his own courage to the conversation.

“It’s an act of faith, isn’t it? To still want something after it went so wrong last time?”

“Yeah.” he agreed so softly she only heard it because his head was on her shoulder, “A-and we wouldn’t be, be replacin’- wouldn’t be- ya know- replacin’…Joe.” he never could manage her name without a quiver.

“No, no it wouldn’t be that.” Elaine thought on it, almost five years of painful silence on the subject finally broken by a tickle fight, “This was us before her. Wasn’t it? Is it wrong to think that way? If I don’t I’ll go nuts, E, I will.” she started to cry anyway and his hand raised up and stroked her cheek with strange accuracy for a man facing away from her. “I don’t wanna replace her -I just don’t wanna lose that part of us either!” she tried to explain and he hummed gently with her in understanding, “I feel like I’m atrophying without a baby in me.”

“I’ll be your baby.” he teased, but it was only to lighten her mood, not to rush her through it.

Elaine wrapped her limbs around the lanky length of him, softer this year than he’d ever been, and rocked him back and forth sideways, like his own personal hammock, the warmth of him soothing her like the grounding touch of God. “Ya know, this ain’t the way they’re made, takes a different sorta swayin’ for what we want.” he murmured drowsily even as he felt her heartbeat skip then pound beneath his shoulder at his words.

“Really?” Elaine whispered, her nose stuffy from crying.

“Yeah.” he cleared his own throat, “Yeah, but maybe tonight we’ll just play, hmm? Gotta make sure us two babies are alright ‘fore we make another, ain’t that right?”

There was a rural sorta wisdom to that and she pressed kisses into his sweaty hair in acknowledgment of his promise and his admittance of fragility. Their efforts of play fighting had covered him in a sheen of exertion and now laying in her arms it cooled tacky and famillair against her own, his musk potent and heady in her nostrils.

“Yeah, that’s right, we gotta take care of each other.” she agreed, and went back to swaying them both.

💋💋💋

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#elvis fanfiction #elvis presley #sarge and lil mama #elvis fanfic #elvis imagine #elvis x reader #elvis x elaine #elvisaaronpresley #elvis the pelvis #army elvis #elvis on tour #elvis smut #elvis fans #elvis 2022

[dadsbongos]

he's in a band

12.8 K words

warnings - female reader, you are specified to have a step-father and step-brother, the dark crystal is referenced especially towards the end, sorry if i tagged you and you didn't like it i'm just that kid that asks their mom for attention just to fail a back flip

summary - You and Eddie are forced to team up and make him into Snowflake King material so that you can beat Jason Carver in a bet (for fifty bucks and the success of Lucas Sinclair’s high school basketball career).

You’re certain that if Eddie were just a little less forward about his interests, he’d be popular. It’s fucked up, certainly, but it’s also nothing new. Stacey Bennett pretends she doesn’t like science fiction or comics, Chrissy Cunningham acts like she doesn’t go bird-watching every weekend, and Trin Saelim purposefully misidentifies every actor in the Star Wars trilogy.

Eddie has the charisma and the looks and the hair for 1,000 jocks and you just know that with the right nudging, he’d have this school eating out of the palm of his hand. And that’s what you think of as you watch him speak with his freshmen worshippers at a level of respect and kindness you don’t often see between peers of the same age.

“Hey, creeper,” Chrissy bumps her shoulder into yours, “What’re you doing starin’ at him, huh?”

Stacey and Trin snap around to where you stare and you so despise their eagerness.

“Nothing,” you lie, then decide against it, “Munson- Eddie Munson, he could be popular. I think.”

Immediately, there’s the overtly mocking, painfully cynical laughter that peels from Jason. None of you can quite shake him despite the fact Chrissy dumped him eons (months) ago, but also - none of you can quite gather the courage to speak up against him or his friends.

“Right, the freak could be popular,” Jason turns to Patrick McKinney in a histrionic ‘look at this guy’ way, “That fucker couldn’t win Snowflake King, and Fred Benson won Baron sophomore year.”

“Eddie Munson could win Snowflake King and be more popular than you if given the proper push,” you narrow your gaze at him, “And I’ll put money on that,” when Jason doesn’t take the bait, you continue, “He’s in a band, he’s got charisma!”

“You know what?” Jason extends an arm across the table, a hand straight out and brows raised - challenging you, “I’ll take that.”

“Alright,” you catch his hand with yours, squeezing, “but, you, Patrick, and Andy can’t run against him, and if he wins then I get fifty bucks and Lucas Sinclair has to be promoted to actually playing on the court next season.”

Jason takes in the conditions, nodding, “He loses, I get fifty bucks and Lily Pham has to go on a date with me.”

Times really have been rough since Chrissy left if he’s this desperate, you suppose.

Jason squeezes your hand tighter, the sides begin to ache and your fingertips go numb from his force, but you clench his hand right back before storming off to the most avoided lunch table since Billy McFeely puked on the right column’s middle bench.

As you approach the Hellfire table, the freshmen stare and you feel their judgments linger. With scorching gazes and iced tongues, they observe as though you’re a small speck under their microscope. Eddie’s gaze is the hottest of them all, has been since you first met the so-called Satanist from Forest Hills.

“Munson,” you smile saccharine sweet though, leaning onto the sticky, off-white table by your elbows, “I’ve got a proposal for you.”

“Ah, sweet princess,” Eddie tilts back, hooking his hands behind his head, “how I love our talks.”

You two have spoken a mere handful of times, at best. You’re pretty sure that if you weren’t best friends with the cheerleader trifecta then he wouldn’t even know your name. Though, to be fair, if he wasn’t the renowned freak then there was zero shot you would know his. It’s like how two celebrities could speak about one another in an interview without ever having actually met the other.

Eddie would be Vincent Prince only in The Fly and only post-transformation.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you smack his arm, “Listen. You need to win Snowflake King lest we both be subjected to the humiliation of Jason ‘pigskin hero’ Carver proving us wrong.”

That makes the other boys actually look at you, rather than the ill-wrought attempts to pretend they didn’t care.

“What’s in it for me?”

“Dude,” Dustin pipes up from beside you, leaning over and brushing against your arm in a move that you’re certain he’d never pull under normal circumstances. His eyes are wide and brows high, “take the deal!”

Mike nods eagerly, “If you win, maybe people will stop shoving us into lockers.”

“People actually do that?” you grimace.

Will Byers nods, looking a little more kicked-puppy than human-boy, “Swirlies are real, too.”

“Alright, then,” you click your tongue and look back to Eddie, visibly already working the idea in his head, “You win Snowflake King and nobody will touch your kitten litter,” you point across the table to where a collection of upperclassmen in Hellfire shirts sit, “or your older cats. And I’ll split the fifty Jason’s forking up.”

“Twenty-five, twenty-five?” Eddie tilts his head, tone lilting.

“No shot. Forty, ten.”

“For all the work I’d be putting in to win?” he mocks hurt and leans forward, copying you and settling on his elbows. Your noses are mere inches apart and it feels like the least deadly stand-off is about to commence, “How about thirty, twenty?”

You ‘hmph’. Earnestly about to call the whole thing off if this is how he’s going to be to work with, when you hear sick witch cackles from Jason Carver and his jesters. You don’t have to turn to know that they’re pointing as they laugh, their delight thickens as your patience thins.

“Fine,” you hold out the hand Jason didn’t maim, “but you get the twenty.”

Eddie doesn’t look at you. His gaze flickers straight over the doughy pulls of his dearest sidekicks. Companions more like, he’d say. You don’t know the guy extremely well, but you’ve seen the way he intimidates and shoves people away when it comes to his friends. It’d be sweet if it weren’t, you know, Eddie Munson.

“I’ll take the twenty,” he takes your hand and shakes, firm but not so evil as Jason’s, “And you edit my papers for the rest of the semester.”

“Unfair to add that while we’re already shaking,” he still hasn’t let go of your hand, but you haven’t dropped his either.

“I know, right?” he smiles right at you this time, not entirely genuine but not so twisted into cynicism to be lost, “Come by the theater room at four, my little Satan club should be done by then, ‘kay?”

“Sure,” you rip your hand from his now, swiftly carding between the packed tables and back to yours.

Dustin, Mike, and Will watch you as you go - Will is the first to return, brows furrowed at Eddie, “Hey, doesn’t Hellfire start at four?”

Eddie hums, nods, and tosses up his hands as though he’d forgotten, “I guess it does!”

...

When you walk in, it's as though you’ve entered a meeting in the damn White House.

Eight heads swivel directly toward the heavy door you creak open as soon as you enter - seven pairs of lit, wide eyes aim at you like war machines. Lucas waves shyly and you return it.

“Hi?” you step into the cold, stiff room and jump when the door slams on its stopper behind you.

Eddie, from the head of the table, puts a finger up to his lips - lips that stretch wide with glee as he loudly “shhh!”s you.

The heads turn back to their dreaded Dungeon Master, and you’re suddenly left in the dust of forgotten chip crumbs that crack when you step forward. A boy in red flannel and rosy cheeks glares like you’ve killed his mother and it stops you with the full force Medusa was rumored to have. You haven’t felt so unwelcomed since accidentally walking into the teachers’ lounge.

“And out from that rusty, chipped, half-hung gate crawls a hideous, toothy, bloody-nailed beast,” you would’ve assumed it was typical Dweebs & Dorks talk for a campaign if Eddie hadn’t been staring at you the entire time he said it.

But he’s the literal crux of your plan, so what is there to do except bite the bullet and huff your way to an abandoned table pushed straight into the wall? You plop yourself onto the floral-engraved wood and pull out the statistics homework due tomorrow. Typically, you wait until you’re actually home, but with however many hours to kill left you’ll make an exception.

Eddie, on the other hand, is having the time of his life forcing you to wait on his little “nerd games”.

Eddie hates you. He hates your manicured nails. He hates your 1970s dresses. He hates the rusted silver ring from middle school on your finger. He hates you.

He hates you because you’re popular and rich and don’t have to work the way that he does, and as much as he wants to go against the grain and never judge a person before he meets them - he isn’t that mature. He’s angry that you don’t have to worry about your water going out in the height of July heat. He’s bitter about the fact he had to work three jobs over his freshman year and you haven’t so much as clocked in for a part-time gig.

So, really, irritating you like this is the least he can do.

And besides, it isn’t like you particularly care for Eddie “the freak” Munson. Not his reputation, not his music, not his tattoos, not his obnoxious hair or laugh or way he speaks. None of it.

...

“It’s way too late to stay here, you have to come over so we can discuss the plans.”

Eddie rolls his eyes as you walk in front of him, out the double doors, and into the (mostly) barren student parking lot.

“Alright,” he calls after you, wrangling his keys from the belt loop they hang off, “but I want a meal and to meet your parents.”

“Why in God’s name would you ever wanna meet my parents?” you snicker when he doesn’t use his infamous gunfire wit to respond immediately, “Well, I guess that’s not fair - I know you haven’t heard of the big guy upstairs.”

“The big guy upstairs hates masturbation and people of the same sex fucking, I don’t think he’s quite the role model you want, dolly.”

You swat his arm, “I never said he was my role model, and don’t call me ‘dolly’.”

“But you’re so pretty and sweet,” he pouts, turning to walk back towards his van, “like a little doll.”

You groan and sigh your way into the shredded, puffing leather of Eddie’s passenger seat. You usually save judgments of people’s cars to the jocks that mouth-breathe around you and your friends, but the sheer amount of fast food wrappers and soda cans that orchestra with every shift of your foot seem to justify it.

Eddie picks out the morph of disgust on your face as soon as it appears, “What?” he grins like he’s having fun, “Never been in a guy’s front seat?”

You glare through your peripherals, crossing your arms tightly, “I’ll kill you for that.”

You’d figuratively kill him for less.

“I just don’t like the sound of wrappers- “ you squeeze your hands mid-air as if that portrays anything, “crinkling and making noise.”

“Well, do you happen to like the sound of fucking awesome guitar solos and screaming?”

Your eyes stick to his hand on the stereo's volume dial, “Not particularly.”

“Great,” he turns the dial almost entirely to the right.

You cover your ears, just to really rub it in how you detest his music, “You, Munson, are absolutely insufferable!”

He can barely hear you over the music, but he nods excitedly - curls bouncing, “Yeah! Totally!”

The van bounces and rattles and you think you hear a tire pop every few minutes as Eddie speeds through the streets of Hawkins to your house.

When Eddie steps into the plush beige carpet and yellow floral wallpaper of your cutesy 1970s home, he thinks that bubbling hatred solidifies. At least a little bit. A nicer TV than any that he’s ever seen is settled on a polished, mahogany stand in front of your family’s white couch.

Susan Harris’ Golden Girls is playing and three smiley, sweatered figures lounge about the cushions.

“Take off your shoes at the door,” you very specifically point to a small shelf of sneakers and boots and flats and heels, but Eddie just works off his mud-caked kicks on the carpet and leaves them there. Slightly to the side, so that if somebody tripped over them he could claim he tried to move them.

Your step-brother, a shitheaded eight-year-old you’d live and die for, doesn’t bother hiding the way he sneers while looking Eddie head to toe, “Did you bring home a criminal?”

Your mother swats his shoulder and Eddie can see the resemblance between you two.

If it were any high schooler, then Eddie would be a little more reactive, but this is an actual kid. He can’t bring himself to be mean to a child, so he just laughs and waves off your mother’s concern, “It’s fine, I get that a lot.”

“Well now, that’s a shame,” your stepdad shakes his head in a way you usually see from dads in movies. He sips the beer your biological dad always said he hated and points at the jean jacket adorning Eddie’s torso, “Nice patch, kid.”

Eddie follows the gesture, finding the DIO patch Wayne taught him to embroider for his seventeenth birthday. He’s surprised that your suburban step-dad with the pretty wife and popular step-daughter and snarky son knows what DIO is.

“Didn’t know you knew what DIO is,” Eddie moves into the living room, like a predator encroaching your territory.

You take the time to settle your shoes in their proper slots, and you even move Eddie’s sneakers to an empty spot (one at the very bottom).

“Just ‘cuz I got one foot in the grave doesn’t mean I’m clueless.”

You can hardly stop yourself before you’re snapping, “Stop saying you have a foot in the grave!”

He just chuckles and your mom rolls her eyes. You stroll straight past them and into the ugly mint kitchen your mom insisted on, where a large, water-speckled and soup-drool-stained pot lays on a cooled burner. Like a stray puppy, Eddie follows.

“You know what?” Eddie leans into the counter, head tilting into the white dips and lines of your fridge.

When he fails to continue on his own, you quirk a brow and turn the burner on, “What?”

“I was not expecting your family to be actually decent,” he murmurs, staring into the distance as if revealing a great truth.

“Even my step-brother?”

“Even.”

You shrug off the way his tattoos and veins reflect into your chest - past your ribs and breastplate and through the heart. It’s embarrassing. So you move on.

“My mom was a flower child in the 60s and 70s, so she gets counterculture.”

“And the old man?”

“Been taking care of other people since before he even got a driver’s license, so he’s seen worse shit than a dork that pretends to be intimidating.”

“Oh, am I- “ he points at himself, “am I the dork?”

Before you get the chance to reply, your very dear and precious shithead step-brother runs in. Wondering eyes stare up at you and Eddie, flipping back and forth until they settle on your metalhead guest, “Do you wanna see my room?”

Eddie presses his lips, then grins and nods curtly before pushing himself off the fridge, “Of course, little man.”

Your brother runs faster than Eddie does, but Eddie’s footfalls are nearly millions of times louder when he goes up those rickety stairs yet to be replaced.

You lean out of the coffee bean tinted doorway and shout after Eddie, “Don’t try and convert him to that Satanism shit!”

A quick, simple, “hey!” from your mother follows your outburst and Eddie pops into view long enough to stick his tongue out at you.

Eddie Munson is criminally overconfident and part of you detests that. Another part of you, a growing part perhaps, admires that in him - the ability to be himself even though everyone hates him. He’s a symbol to the geeks and a terror to the general public.

To you, he’s the monster about to gorge himself on homemade soup for the sake of fifty bucks, freshmen safety, and edited English papers.

How stupid.

...

When you go up the stairs and down that creaky floorboard hallway, Eddie is already in the final stretch of a tic-tac-toe game - you hear his win at the doorway when he cackles as your brother whines.

“Wisdom comes with age, big guy.”

Funny way of saying he’s dumb.

But your brother accepts it, weirdly enough - the only reason he got genuinely upset was because you had to drag Eddie away. Funny ways for a funny kid, you suppose.

“Why do you think I have all this untapped potential?”

You don’t hear Eddie’s question, too focused on the sloppy way that he lets soup dribble on his lips. It isn’t until he repeats himself that you take notice, “Hm?”

Eddie tilts his head and winks, “I know I’m hot, baby, but try listening when I talk, yeah?”

“Shut up, you’re a mess,” you snap a napkin from your mom’s pink-stained wooden holder and wave it in front of his face, “Ever used a spoon before, or am I popping your utensil cherry?”

“You think you’re hilarious,” Eddie steals the napkin, wiping down his lips and chin, “I said, ‘why do you think I have potential?’”

Your parents have gone up to bed, the living room lights turned out and long shadows cast along the checkerboard tile by lemon fluorescents. The looping shadows of Eddie’s hair against his rosy face are even worse.

The best course of action is to pretend you haven’t been pondering that exact question just to justify why he’s in your head so often.

“You have this, like, draw. I dunno. You smile like you have something important to say, even if nobody is listening. I think that’s really important. And you’re kinda pretty, but that’s the only time I’ll say it so don’t let it get to your head.”

“Too late, that’s all I’m gonna be thinking about now. You think I’m the hottest guy in Hawkins.”

“I never said that.”

“Well, if I said you’re the hottest girl in Hawkins, would you admit that’s what you meant?”

You freeze. It feels childish to be so caught off guard by someone like Eddie Munson. No, even worse because it was Eddie Munson. Once the shock washes away, though, you abandon your dumbfounded gape and twist up your lips like the cat that ate the canary. You gobble up all tells of naivety and swallow them, talons and teeth that would’ve frightened anybody but Eddie. He was borne of talons and teeth.

You don’t blow the steaming spoonful of your soup before you eat it, though, and that does frighten him.

What else frightens him, is the rolling chalkboard you sit him in front of while he desperately tries not to fall back into your marshmallow bedspread.

“The tenets,” you slap the powdered chalkboard and kick at Eddie’s shoe to make sure he’s paying attention, “of popularity. Also known as - the four-step plan to make you Snowflake King material.”

Eddie follows your manicured finger to a big, circled ‘1’.

“Don’t stand out - this includes your insane personality, your nutty clothes, and your dingbat rings,” your finger drops to a similarly styled ‘2’, “Get good grades. Jason should be enough to say you don’t have to be perfect, but if Coach G would bench you, then you’re out,” Eddie goes to gag, but you silence him with a glare before he gets the chance, “Three: get a hot date.”

Eddie drops his head to one shoulder, squishing his lips to show you an upcoming protest, so you simply cross your arms and wait, “Why don’t you just be my ‘hot date’? Gross phrasing, by the way,” he points right at your eggshell white bookcase, “Maybe open those feminist theory books I see on your shelf.”

“Shut up,” you take a fire engine red copy of Betty Friedan’s The Feminine Mystique and chuck it at his head, easily caught in one of his hands, “It’s too obvious if I do it. We have to find somebody else willing to go out with you. That one’s gonna take work,” you draw an imaginary line beneath point four, “Mystery.”

“Hell does that mean?” he cracks open The Feminine Mystique, seemingly reading from it until you snag the copy from his hands.

“Pay attention. And you’ll see, just listen.”

“Alright,” he throws his arms wide, smiling thin, “so explain. What’s the point of these?”

“To make you popular, like I said, dipshit,” you return the book to its shelf, matching Eddie’s poorly veiled vexation, “If you keep going at the rate you are now with a terminal case of oneirataxia, we won’t get anywhere. So, we’re gonna start employing these.”

“Alright, we’re basically just changing everything about me and hoping it works out?”

“Mhm. Yeah. Just for now,” you step around your wheeled chalkboard to stand directly in front of Eddie, “And the first thing we’re gonna start with is,” you clap your hands and grin-

Don’t Stand Out.

Your mother raised both brows when you told her that Eddie was picking you up for school in the morning, but it was absolutely vital that you ensure he actually put on the clothes you made him take home. Your ex left a plain white T-shirt, burgundy letterman jacket, and simple jeans during an open-door-policy’d sleepover and Eddie dry-heaved at the very sight of such a pile.

You dry-heaved when he was sat beside you in his rustbox on wheels in the letterman jacket, shirt, and black jeans.

“I thought I gave you blue.”

“You did, and I decided it looked weird.”

Your eyes scale him from head to seat, “You look weird anyway.”

“Thank you, delicate princess.”

By the time you and Eddie have parking in the student lot, you’ve pinpointed what it was that made Eddie more unsettling than usual.

“Take off the jacket.”

He nearly chokes on the air between his ribs, “What?”

“The jacket, hair-for-brains,” you pluck at the fitting material, “it makes you look weird.”

“You know,” he unbuckles and shucks forward in his seat to tug off the offending thing, “I was thinking that exact thing.”

Eddie’s tattoos come to life in the sun slivers that beam through his cracked windows. A demon puppeteered by the undead, two dice rolling on the inside of his wrist, and an old faded stick-and-poke heart on the side of his middle finger - to name a few. It’s weird.

Is it weird?

It is, right?

How speechless and dim it seems to render you when his red-sprung, vein-flicked, tender hands bunch up the letterman and throw it into his backseat. It’s all so weird.

You rush out, slamming his scratched door and rushing to the side doors of Hawkins High only to realize when going to tighten the straps, that you’ve forgotten your bag in that scratched van.

Turning, you huff, “Shit!”

“Aw, poor thing,” Eddie, ever the sweet savior, dangles your backpack from two fingers as he waltzes your way, “What would you do without me?”

“Be studying for my bio final,” you take the bag and swat Eddie off when he tries helping your arm through one of the loops, “Okay, remember- don’t bring up your freak stuff so much today. We’re starting off on a new foot, Munson!”

“I know, baby, I know,” he pats your shoulder just a tad too hard, then, suddenly, his lips fly to your cheek, and cherry ripe softness presses a kiss to the skin there, “Thanks for the threads!”

A wolf whistles from behind you as Eddie prances into the building, waggling his fingers at a few staring jocks.

A lithe arm slithers over your shoulders and silky black hair flutters into view, Trin raises a brow at you, “What was that?”

Chrissy and Stacey bounce onto the scene in tandem, the prior speaking first, “Yeah, getting all buddy-buddy with Eddie, huh?”

Stacey leans forward, beaming with perfect pearly teeth, “You two make an adorable pair, ya know?”

“Shush,” you can’t block out their teasings, especially as Trin insists on hanging off your side and smushing lipstick-stained whispers into your ears about how exposed and eye-catching Eddie’s tattoos are. As if you don’t know.

Chrissy and Stacey giggle at your apparent agony as you pass Eddie and his gaggle of goons. All of whom are similarly teasing him for the aesthetic shift.

“Watch your mouths, I’m still in charge of the campaigns,” Eddie snaps, glaring rather lightheartedly at Dustin, Mike, and Will.

Dustin squints, disbelieving, at the outfit his friend had squeezed into, “This isn’t you, Eddie. I’m worried.”

“If this is for the bet, I’m not sure it’ll work,” Mike agrees, leaning slightly into Will’s side, “You still look like you.”

“Just a teeny bit off,” Will smiles slightly, nothing but assiduous.

A girl of yellow cardigan and brown plaid skirt pauses before the group, eyes shameless as they crawl Eddie’s tattooed frame free of its usual baggy attire. She smiles and bunches her shoulders, “Lookin’ good, Munson.”

“You too, sweetness,” Eddie winks.

Mike’s jaw drops flat as the girl scutters off, “Who was that?”

“No clue,” Eddie follows her with his gaze, “I think we have econ together. Maybe.”

“Well, I guess this bet will work perfectly fine, then,” Will muses.

You watch from Chrissy’s locker. A technical success that still burns like the vilest of cough syrup as it goes down.

Eddie, despite the compliment, searches for you as soon as the girl is officially gone. His face sings the sonnet of a boy waiting impatiently for approval, so you eagerly hand it over with a nod and grin.

Good job, you mouth and Trin giggles at your expense.

“And when I finally blend in with the rest of you?”

He folds his arms and twirls a lock of hair around his fingers, sheepish is a new look on him. He’s jabbed in the ribs by Dustin and you’re grabbed away for AP biology by Trin and Stacey.

“Then, we get to something that actually might benefit you. We have to get you some- “

Good Grades.

Ms. O’Donnell is certified in creating pain-in-the-ass tests. Forty-five multiple choice and two free response questions in fifty-five minutes happen to be one of those pains in said ass. As far as you’re concerned, the only bright side to semester exams like this is the seat changes beforehand - and the only bright side to this seat change is that you now sit next to Eddie Munson.

You finish with ten minutes left of class and find yourself entirely unable to resist how you immediately look over to Eddie. You two have studied for weeks in preparation for this, most of which was you just grilling him over raw flames about both minute and exaggerated details in Hamlet.

Not that William Shakespeare was usually anything other than ham-fisted in his works.

Eddie continues to struggle.

You can’t say you’re extraordinarily surprised, Eddie was a serial fidgeter and - no matter how much effort you both put in - was usually useless in recalling information. Not that he didn’t try, typically it was as simple as forgetting. Any which way you put it, Eddie wasn’t failing his classes on purpose. Not at all.

So to watch him violently scratch at the side of his head with the eraser tip of a pencil is painful. Both from phantom sensation and knowing how much he genuinely struggles with classes.

So you reach into your English folder for a stray piece of loose leaf, tearing off a quarter and numbering to forty-seven.

Eddie feels helpless. He’s reread the same question, number fifteen, for what seems like centuries, and yet he’s nowhere closer to actually getting that higher grade you were pushing him for. With someone else depending on him, there’s a new pressure.

Usually, when he’s only disappointing Wayne, it’s a regular soul-crushing experience that’s smoothed over by the fact that Wayne doesn’t prize academics the way he does a “good man”. Now, though, with you - there’s a lack of familiarity that leaves room for the overwhelming sensation he’ll be stabbing someone in the back.

Or through the heart?

Sharp lead jabs the exposed flesh of his arm. Right under the navy blue polo you’d literally strong-armed him to put on this morning. Eddie flinches back, retching his arm from the faint sting. You hold out the pencil, folding your hand in a way that has to be uncomfortable.

He pulls up his own pencil, glaring like you’re a moron.

When you harshly stick him with the lead again, he rips the wood from your hand and a folded piece of paper flutters to his dick-graffiti’d desk.

This time, as his eyes meet yours, you glare at him like he’s a moron. Good God, does he feel like it now, too.

Unscrambling the tightly wound pot of gold, Eddie checks his first fifteen answers and is - though he’d never admit it - overjoyed at the fact that they all match with the ones you have written down. The detail seems small to most, but progress is progress and Eddie can barely believe he’s actually able to understand the connection between question and answer for the remaining test questions.

After class, you wait on linoleum that shines under sickly tube lights for Eddie to walk out with his jingling keys and skunky black lunchbox and torn, weathered, black backpack.

“I should say, I intentionally put a couple wrong answers on there. So she doesn’t assume you cheated,” you pat his shoulder, preparing to walk away when Eddie takes your hand.

It’s warm.

You don’t know why it matters.

“Any of the first fifteen?”

Your brows knit, palpable confusion, “No.”

“Dope,” Eddie takes your bag and throws it over one of his shoulders despite your huffs, “Where to, sweetness?”

Fighting Eddie is pointless, especially on menial tasks such as carrying your backpack to a class. A class on the opposite side of campus from his, might you add.

“AP stats,” you point loosely, as if the class is actually anywhere within this hall, “You know, for extra credit, Mr. Abrahms - the stats teacher - has a band and if you go to a show, Ms. O’Donnell slaps on some bonus points to quizzes and tests, but not book reports.”

“Right, and why does she do that?”

He holds the door to the math sector of Hawkins High, filled with posters advertising the wonders of division and variables and dividing to find variables. For a laugh, he pretends to drop it when you walk through, only giggling as you lour.

“They’re married.”

“No fucking way.”

“Way.”

“Well,” he follows you down the hall, past lightbulbs that short and flicker and mud-stained tile, “I’ll only go if you come with, princess.”

“I’d love to, as long as you don’t talk shit about how it isn’t metal,” you give a pointed stare when he guffaws, slinging over your bag all while playing innocent.

“No promises,” he sings, slamming the door to AP stats behind you.

“And after we get your grades up, we- “

“Well, hold on. We should probably do something that’s actually for me, right?” he removes the leather jacket hung over his shoulders, slowly as though this is some twisted rom-com produced by John Hughes, “I think I need a little thanks for going along with this.”

Your eyes roll almost on their own, “We already discussed payments, Munson.”

“Yeah, but how about something on top of that? Something a little more fun.”

“Ew.”

Get a Date Corroded Coffin Concert.

“I’m serious, honey, I see all about these things on the news - local and national, and you need to stay safe. And if I so much as smell a little alcohol on your breath, you’re grounded until,” your mother pauses, mouth opening and closing as she flounders, “Until I’m dead. So. Be safe and smart.”

“Yeah, Mom, I know,” you climb out of her car and shut the door, but before you’re released, the window slides down.

“Keep a good head on your shoulders,” she smiles, eyes moving past you and towards The Hideout. She gasps and pouts, tone immediately drawling up from the scolding it had been the entire drive here, “Is that your Eddie? Oh, he’s waiting,” she waves you aside and calls, “Hi, Eddie!”

“Mom- !” heat rushes your cheeks and you flip Eddie off from the hip, just out of view from your mother when he hyena giggles, “I’ll see you later.”

“Bye, honey,” she waves out the window, “Bye, Eddie!”

“Bye,” he practically sings as you stomp up to the stained metal door, “I didn’t think Mommy would be dropping you off; where’s your sack lunch, Mary-Sue?”

“Well, I didn’t think you’d be waiting so patiently for me,” you stretch to hold a hand up, pinched as though holding a treat, “Good boy!”

Eddie knocks his hip with yours so hard that you almost fold over sideways, “You wouldn’t have been let in without a fake ID otherwise, sweetpea. Sadly your reign on the population’s feeble minds stops here.”

He holds the door for you and you terribly despise the way it makes your chest thump, so you poke with a forked tongue instead, “Must’ve been mega important for you that I’m here, then.”

But Eddie is typical in that he doesn’t bite. Not in the way you want him to anyway, “Well, duh. How could I not foam at the mouth having you, princess of Hawkins High, at my little show?”

And despite your lack of involvement in the metal scene, and despite how much you wanted it to suck more than your neighbor’s hyper-speed and hyper-light vacuum, the show is good. You swear to God he even winks at you during the third song.

Following a call to your mom on the bright red bar phone, you wait outside with Eddie while his friends pack up.

The moon night is in full swing, a pale face among the stars. Thin purple and black clouds ribbon over the spectacle of craters.

“I really like the moon,” Eddie is a loudmouth at best and sporadic at worst, but something about his timber entrances you, “it reminds me of my mom.”

You hate when he tries to be mystic and poetic.

“Is she nice?”

“She’s dead,” Eddie laughs, but it feels like he’s at gunpoint, “She was nice. She told me once that whenever I feel alone, she’s just one look up away,” he sniffles and that’s when you see a spring of fresh tears, desperate to cling at his waterline, “This is nice. I don’t usually get to talk about stuff like that.”

“It’s nothing, Munson,” you huddle just a little closer, and if he asks you’ll say it was the cold Hawkins’ night. Winter is rough these days, you know, “I’m glad you can get it out.”

He digs deep into the pocket of his jeans and plucks free a pack of cigarettes, “Well, I’m sure it’s a downer on your rainbows and sunshine.”

Perhaps it’s just in your ears, or perhaps the world realizes what a terrible thing to say that was, but you swear that there’s a stock sound record scratch directly overhead, “What?”

“Oh, come on, I don’t call you princess for nothing. You’ve got it all,” he places a cigarette between his lips and your budding resentment blinds you to how they plush around the cylinder, “You’re popular. You’re pretty. You’re loved.”

“Are you kidding me, Eddie?” for some peculiar reason, his first name scalds worse than his last name would have, “Did you miss the part where we’re wiping away who you are to make you popular?” you shove him by the shoulder and he stumbles enough to know you’re far past joking, “So what the fuck do you think I’ve been doing for the past four years?!”

“I think you’ve been having the time of your life getting your ass kissed by a loving, comfortable family and everyone at that stupid fucking high school that I’ve been cursed to repeat!”

“You don’t know anything about me,” you laugh, no humor, and grin, no joy, “My dad was an awful drunk that stopped calling because I tried holding him accountable while he wanted to be the big victim!”

“Yeah, and my dear ol’ dad was a criminal that hated me until he needed somebody small and nimble to hotwire or sneak into a place.”

You’re nearly speechless.

“So you should understand!”

He should understand, and on some level he does. On another level, he’s intimidated by what you represent, and that’s why he fights you.

Your world and his might as well be Mercury and Pluto. You have a two-story house with a loving family and he’s got a trailer with his uncle - God bless Wayne’s heart. You can walk by old ladies and children and housewives and businessmen and CEOs and jocks and be adored. He can’t go to Melvald’s General without being scorned and pointed at and avoided. He hates to say it but it burns, like a live fucking roast.

And it burns even more because he’s obsessed with you. Your manicured, polished nails. Your 1970s dresses and ribbons. Your rusted silver ring with the braid pattern you’ve had since middle school.

Worse than John Bender, he fell for the school princess, but at least Eddie managed to have been around you for more than a day.

Two months, in fact, you two have been working together to make him more popular and even if it’s steadily working, your circles are still entirely different.

Not unlike a wild animal, Eddie bites back when he’s scared, and when he saw you on the empty, beer-mudded floorboards of The Hideout just for him - he realized he was downright terrified.

“Like,” you hiccup, no tears have caked your face quite yet but the way your breathing is so choked, he can sense you’re close, “I really just feel like I ruin people’s lives sometimes and you don’t even know me like that- “ you look away and he sees how bloodshot your eyes are, “It’s so unfair of you to judge me like that. My life isn’t perfect just because Jason Carver thinks I’m cool.”

“And what about you and your friends?” he’s quieter than before, “Judging me and mine over what? A dice game and some loud music?” the quiet splits as he remembers why was ever put into this position in the first place, “Fuck you.”

Your head bubbles. Air clicking between where the gears of your brain should be. He doesn’t know anything deep about you, sure, but you know much less about him. That didn’t stop you from listening to your friends bitch about him.

With no defense to that point, you turn away from Eddie and stare forward. Blank and gagged. Eddie copies.

You want to say something. An apology. A comeback. An expletive. Something.

Eddie wants to say something, too. Similar sentiments and entirely new ones. He’d even promise to do everything you say - head in the sand, hands on his ass levels of ignorance if it meant you’d forgive him. Or just look at him again. Let him delight in the sugar of your perfume once more.

Neither of you knows how, though.

Both of you do know, however, that despite different paths of life being paved, this time together is nice. So maybe it’s best to swallow pride and get over yourselves - for the sake of each other and a tasty, crisp fifty bucks (to split).

But Eddie is better at filling silences than you. So he does what he’s best at.

Almost.

Eddie whispers, so low it rattles between his teeth, “I didn’t say anything.”

It takes you a moment to register that the shithead spoke, “Huh?”

“I didn’t say anything,” he looks at you now, smiling big and wide as if he didn’t just almost make you cry.

You glare and he sees the sprinkles of crystalline in your eyes. Maybe the ‘almost’ isn’t so far back that he can actually begin joking again.

“Okay,” you huff and cross your arms, stiff.

“I shouldn’t have judged you,” he admits, “I’m sorry. It was wrong and unfair and I’ll be better to you. Promise.”

That makes your guarded stance drop, melts like dropped blueberry slush under Arizona sun before rolling into leaf-stuffed grouts.

“I shouldn’t have judged you either,” you drop your arms wholly, and Eddie despises the way he finds you so adorable. Your arms come out to your sides, wide and awaiting. When he refuses to immediately get the sign, you jerk your arms in emphasis - eyes shooting impossibly wide, “Stop embarrassing me and get over here.”

Eddie tosses his head back as he laughs, nose scrunching, and you know that if people put their egos and prejudices aside then they’d be in love with him. Not like you.

Sure, you’ve put those aside, but you’re not in love with Eddie Munson or anything. He’s just helping you prove to Jason what an idiotic, pea-brain he truly is.

Eddie gives nice hugs though. The kinds that squeeze and lock you into the comfort. You can feel his arms around you, leather squawking with your movements. His hands are warm and comforting, pressing you as close to him as you can get. He’s back in his ripped jeans and leather and T-shirt logo'd with a band you don’t recognize, it’s like returning to an old dream from childhood. Kindly and tangerine sugar in your head.

Your cheek smushes against Eddie and you can’t help the way your eyes butterfly shut from the fire that sweeps off his body and homes you.

“Sorry for flipping out.”

“It was justified, I’d say.”

“Still. I feel like I can’t complain to people because I know, realistically, I don’t really have a reason to complain unless they see what I do in my life. So I just say everything is great. So I can see why you’d think everything is great.”

“Still,” he copies your tone on that word, even dragging his pitch up to plop a cherry on the sundae, “as someone who says the same shit to my group, I should have known better.”

Maybe the hug is too long at this point, but something about Eddie catering to you like this feels like when your bedsheets are tucked tight for slumber.

“You wanna go out and look at suits tomorrow?”

“I’d rather die, but please, yes.”

There’s a blotch of inky thick silence. Tar and mud, until Eddie does as Eddie does best and wades through it for a question.

“Do you wanna talk about your dad?”

Nobody has asked you that before, and you agree in full.

“He was just. Nutso. Picking fights ‘cuz he could and nobody would fight back. Stupid power moves just to prove himself as man of the house. It was always about him and when it wasn’t, he lost his shit.”

“I’m sorry,” he squeezes you again, kissing the crown of your head, “I’m really glad he’s gone.”

“Me too,” your arms begin to let and Eddie copies, the two of you splitting apart like sweating popsicles on Summer hazy noons, “My stepdad’s sick to death, though. If I get married, he’s walking me down the aisle. I’m not even calling that asshole.”

“Yeah, well, be careful or else your beloved is just gonna hang out with him instead.”

“You saying he’s cooler than me?”

“Way.”

“He’s cooler than you, too.”

“As if I was gonna say otherwise.”

“Speaking of…” you face forward again, but this time your shoe kicks into the dirt, toeing up daisy roots and grass blades, “my brother wants you to go to his class play, but he was never gonna ask,” you look at Eddie again, grinning, “It’d mean a lot.”

Eddie thinks this is it. Under the pale moonlight his mother always told him was angel’s kisses, his stupid rage and dislike dissipate and that’s the moment he also realizes that maybe he never hated you as much as he proclaimed he did. He was bitter over an idea and he was foolish.

“Fuck yeah, I’ll go. I’ll even wear my fancy ‘I fuck on the first date’ shirt.”

“Shut up,” you toss your head back and smack his arm in a giggle, “It’s tomorrow night at nine. Hawkins elementary. And my parents aren’t going. Grandma’s cousin is sick or something.”

“Sounds incredible.”

Tomorrow night at nine, at Hawkins Elementary School, Eddie shows up in a white shirt with black, bold letters that spell “I fuck on the first date”. You’ll jaw drop, caught in the middle of disgust and humor, but when your brother is up on stage and spots you both in those uncomfortable metal folding chairs with the rest of the audience, he waves. All smiles and excitement and sunshine. And when Eddie is dropping you both off at home, he tells your brother to leave a watermelon on the porch of the boy he hates - for free, legal confusion. And your brother will beg to see him again as soon as his whistling, rusted van is out of sight.

Tonight, though, before suits are found and plays are attended, your mom’s car pulls up to a dingy little bar called The Hideout.

Eddie stops you before you can step forward, though, “Is there anything you’d say to your dad if you saw him again?”

There are so many things you could say. You could weep and cry and yell and scream and break things, if you wanted to. You could be shrill and pathetic, you could be evil and vindictive, you could be devastated, you could be lots of things.

“No.”

Because what in God’s name would actually make him change?

You smile shortly and bounce as you head for the passenger side door of your mother’s car. You stop halfway, putting up a single finger in wait, and running back over on shoes that sort of squeeze your toes when you run. Snagging his leather jacket by the lapel, you pull Eddie down so that the rosy apple of his cheek is exposed.

Pressing a cherry chapstick kiss to his cheek, your plans of leaving him daydreaming for more are dashed like meaningless soot under Eddie’s battered sneaker in a snap second. Before you can return to that car with the broken heater, Eddie grabs you by the elbow and tugs you to his side.

He slings you back enough for it to count as a dip, and pauses, rearing back with a giggle long enough for you to stop him and command that you be let up. But you don’t, and you don’t want to, so Eddie leans forward as you do.

It’s more of a peck than anything - certainly more tame than what John Bender and Claire Standish pulled at the end of The Breakfast Club, but most especially tamer than what you might expect from Eddie Munson.

But may your soul be forfeited if that mere peck doesn’t snatch the air straight from under you. He tastes like strawberries and cigarettes and even though his lips are chapped, they’re loving.

Eddie lifts you slowly, shooting a wink, “See ya tomorrow, sweetheart.”

You hate feeling shy and coy, it’s embarrassing, but something inside you just sings at his voice. So, sure, there is a shot that you’re shy when he whispers so low it rattles.

There’s a titter in your voice as you murmur back, “See you tomorrow.”

Eddie gnaws his bottom lip when you scamper off into the car. You slide onto the leather of the passenger seat and your mom is comically wide-eyed, “I’m gonna forget that for now, and ask if that young man needs a ride.”

“What?” your mom leans over despite the sudden thumping in your chest, “Mom, no!” She sucks in a breath to shout but you work faster, rolling up the window as you repeatedly mutter, “Just drive, just drive, just drive!”

Eddie laughs, open-mouthed and thick, his curls bounce when he tosses his head, waving you off before he slinks back into the loud, musty bar.

You’re damn near stuck frozen as your mother settles back into the driver’s seat. She raises her brows and points right at you, “I want answers out of you when we get home, young lady,” she wags a finger in your face before reaching for the knob of her stereo, “But right now, we’re listening to Billie Holiday. So I don’t wanna hear it yet.”

You nod curtly, face igniting like Satan's very inferno, “That is not a problem.”

“After I go to your concert, will you finally follow my actual plan?”

“Yeah, sure, let’s go, baby. What’s next?”

“Next, you finally- “

Get a Date.

Eddie makes his walk of shame back towards you after an absolutely brutal rejection from the only girl in Hawkins with more than her ears pierced (not that the eyebrow bar looked anything other than infected).

Wait, he thinks.

Did he mention that he’s in a band?

Shit.

Should he have mentioned that he’s in a band?

Maybe that’s the way to a punk’s heart.

He thinks of asking you - you would’ve said no (that’s only for you).

Either way, he ends up at your side, right in front of a trashcan by the straw station of Hawkins’ Theater. You don’t know what it is, but a deep thing inside you actually feels relieved that Eddie got rejected. Similarly, a deep thing inside Eddie just wishes you’d choke back the caveat to this step and let him take you on the damn date.

“No luck, wonder boy?” you pout.

“No,” he copies your expression, twisting his hands into his pockets, “I’m hopeless and in desperate need of guidance, dear princess.”

“Hm,” you flip around the theater lobby for a potential date, ignoring the rolling muck that clunks your lungs and throat, “Not a whole lot of options for the local metalhead and Dungeon Master, I fear.”

“What about…” Eddie purses his lips, eyes narrowed in search, “her.”

A woman with a toddler on her hips is watching with exasperated, wide eyes as a young man struggles to tear her ticket stub. You shake your head, posture straightening, “No way. She’s looking for something serious if she’s looking for anything at all.”

“You don’t think moms want flings? Shame on you.”

You’d actually feel ashamed if he meant it, instead, you roll your eyes, “I guess, but how would you even get with a mom? They’ve gotta be harder to impress.”

“Easy. I’d go over in a wife beater and offer to mow the lawn, and then halfway through I take off my shirt.”

Good God, he’s so stupid. You love it, though. It, surely.

Boots thud on the colorful, confetti-styled theater carpet, jewelry jingles and clings as a couple looking straight from the posh, wine-dry era of Victorian London passes by. Arms looped and loving, they reek of haughty money.

You jerk your chin towards the couple, “What about them? How would you seduce them?”

Eddie clears his throat, brows furrowing, “Let’s see… I’d book a table at a really nice restaurant under the name Ricky Schroder because nobody else is named Ricky fuckin’ Schroder.”

You can’t help but laugh, “And what if the staff ask where Ricky Schroder is?”

“‘He’s gonna join us later,’” he shrugs, “You know what? Anybody here would be lucky to have me. I’m the ideal woman with no high school degree at 19-years-old and children as my best friends,” he cringes suddenly, shucking out his tongue like something vile died there, “Gross when I say it like that.”

“Always was,” you punch his shoulder.

Eddie suddenly perks up, and that typically would be no stress, if only you hadn’t trailed his line of sight. He gestures loosely, doing an excellent job of pretending he was disinterested in the development, “What about Chris?”

Chrissy Cunningham. Utter queen. Warmhearted. Peachy beautiful.

“Chris?”

Nobody but Jason called her that, and she and Jason dated. What the fuck is Eddie doing?

“Yeah, Chris. Sorry, that’s what I call her. She’s a friend, she’d get the situation.”

“Oh,” you hate the way you seethe, “Yeah.”

“See you in a bit,” Eddie waves gingerly, “Snowflake King is in the bag, baby.”

Peachy beautiful. Peachy fucking keen.

Eddie and Chrissy are a little too giggly familiar for your tastes. It’s like moldy cheese between your cheeks, watching Eddie try (and horrendously succeed) to ask out your very own friend, Chrissy. You should’ve thought this through, maybe, just how much you now hate the idea of Eddie going out with a different girl.

But to be fair to you, he never asked you out on a date following that Hideout kiss, and to be equally fair to him, you never asked him out following that same Hideout kiss.

Part of you rears back at the idea of taking that first step, though. It’s easier when other people come to you, and unfortunately - Eddie either knows what you’re attempting to goad him into, or he’s simply that dense.

You made the rule his date couldn’t be you before you two even really knew each other anyway.

“Alright,” Eddie pinches your arm and you cuff his hand sharply, “it’s a done deal for Thursday. Enzo’s. On me.”

You bare your teeth in what is a desperate attempt to smile, “Awesome!”

It is decidedly not awesome.

“Well,” he fidgets with the twisted, folded material of the letterman jacket you made him give another whirl - you notice it suits him more than it did last time, still weird though, “I can take you home now, dearest.”

“Oh- uh,” flashes of Chrissy in her sweetheart neckline dresses and pleated skirts across a table alone with Eddie make you suddenly ill. Violent heat flashes that blot sweat along your brow and twist your gut into something wretched, “No worries, Eddie, I’ll get one from my mom.”

Before he gets the shot to check again, you’re darting out the push doors and to a pay phone, coins slick in your palm when you tug some from your pocket. Holding the potentially spit and gum decorated receiver decently far from your actual ear as the tone sings.

Later on, when you’ve actually been taken home, your instinct is to call Chrissy. Bizarre. Your step-father and brother are watching reports on the Saturday news that follows the cartoons - a young man injured by a drunk driver, and you immediately rush to the kitchen phone. No wonder John Hughes and neurologists are so obsessed with the teenage mind.

“You don’t actually like Eddie Munson, right?”

Chrissy giggles in that classic way she does when you’ve been foolish, and you can imagine that she tosses her head back - part exasperation and part humor, “Jesus- you two!” an overly long sigh follows, “Good God, no. I love Eddie, but I don’t love Eddie. He’s great, but definitely not for me. You, though. You know. You two would be great.”

“Okay, okay,” you sigh something guttural, “Enough teasing. I was just asking a damn question.”

“Yeah, right. You’re so jealous and nothing’s even gonna happen.”

“I’m not- “ she hangs up before you can even get the words out.

You groan and let the receiver tumble back into place, moving into the doorway between kitchen and living room to finally get an eyeful of the news.

“Holy shit, Keith got hit by a drunk driver?”

Your step-father raises a brow, sipping his beer - entirely unimpressed.

“Then,” you tap Eddie’s forehead when you notice his attention drifting to a string of polaroids around your vanity mirror, “we get to add a little bit of- “

Mystery.

Before you are two suits - both purchased in kind by your step-father. One blush pink to compliment Eddie’s complexion, and the other a pale arctic blue to pair with the actual winter wonderland dance theme. A white undershirt for either. It’s a truly difficult choice when Eddie Munson could pull off either color and still be your top choice for Snowflake King. And not just because you want to win that damn bet.

Your savior from the truly world-bearing decision comes in the form of your bubblegum phone prattling. Your hand flings for it loosely, making contact after two tries and yanking it to your ear.

“What?”

“Wow, aren’t you a bowl of candy?” it’s Eddie, undeniably, but he’s hissing in pain after the question.

That makes your brows screw closer, “What’s your problem, Munson? I’m trying to pick your tux.”

You hear him swallow thick and noisily exhale, “Yes, that sounds very hard, babe,” a gruff and he finally spills the beans, “I’m getting a rib tattoo, we took a break,” he blows thinly between pursed lips, “Can you come down here? I’m about to puke.”

“You’re getting a rib tattoo?” you press the phone closer and stand up from your comforters, “Are you insane?”

In your head, Eddie’s eyes shoot up to the water-browned ceiling as he speaks, “I dunno. Maybe. They’re mysterious, right? And cool, yeah?” he sighs, “Come down here. Please.”

You grumble, naturally, but there was never a chance you could turn Eddie down when he needs help, “I’ll be over in ten.”

There’s one parlor in Hawkins, and you assume that’s where Eddie got a majority of his tattoos. If not all. It’s twelve minutes from your house, closer to the outskirts of town than even most of the rundown bars, but you make an effort in rushing there. Probably more effort than what somebody keeping this sort of bet strictly transactional would, but still.

Eddie sighed in relief when he saw you and if he hadn’t been in the midst of a raw tattoo then perhaps he would’ve hugged you in all his shirtless glory. He now lays on his side, squeezing your hand like a nutcracker to shell, “This really fucking hurts.”

You brush tangled curls from Eddie’s forehead carefully, “What’re you getting, big guy?”

“Surprise,” he snickers until he hisses, “Fuck.”

You scratch your brain for anything he might enjoy. Anything that may distract.

“You ever seen The Dark Crystal?”

Eddie would show his utter shock in a gasp if there wasn’t a needle in his ribs, “You’ve seen The Dark Crystal? No way.”

“Yeah,” you squeeze Eddie’s hand as he presses yours, “my brother owns it. Wanna watch it after this?”

“God yes,” he sounds breathless and you hate how your heart seems to twist at the sound, “who’s your favorite character?”

“Kira. I also liked Chamberlain.”

“No shit, I love Kira and Chamberlain,” Eddie beams up at you, “I know that it isn’t very good, but I fuckin’ love that movie.”

“Even the Poddling slave scene?”

“Hm. That one might be terrifying, actually. Still a good movie.”

“Well, my brother never watches it, so you can come over and we’ll have a viewing party whenever you want.”

He releases your hand and motions as if to brush his fingertips gently over your cheek, “Sweet, sweet angel, how I adore you.”

“Shut up,” you hate when he flusters you. It’s embarrassing.

When Eddie stands straight before the parlor’s mirror, he looks at you with big, bright eyes. Once again, like a puppy for praise.

A full moon in front of a starry sky and clouds paint his pale ribs, raw at the outlines.

“Aw,” you twine your fingers and let the excuse of his tattoo explain why your eyes linger by Eddie’s chest, “for your mom?”

“For my mom,” he confirms, quieter. Baby cow eyes flip to his raw flesh, “Do you think she’d like it?”

Realistically, you never knew her, and you have no idea - Eddie knows that, most definitely. But you know Eddie (somewhat) and if she was someone worthy of his time, then she would’ve adored him now - and his tattoos.

You take one of his fidgeting hands in yours, “Absolutely.”

“And what after that?”

“After that,” you settle your hands on your hips and nod assuredly, “you win Snowflake King.”

Snowflake Ball.

It’s been a solid handful of months, Eddie is far more popular than he was before and you genuinely think he has a chance. And not just because of your desperate need to win this bet.

Before you, on the floor by your feet, are your step-brother and his date, Carrie Kith, to their own winter dance at Hawkins Elementary. Carrie turns to you, wide crystalline eyes and freshly braided hair, her cherry button nose turned up as if to say that one wrong answer may set her off.

“Is he your boyfriend?”

“Who?”

She points at the staircase, “Him.”

Your eyes flit to the clock your mother has hanging above the TV, "No."

"Why not?" she tilts her head, golden braid falling to her shoulder.

You shrug flippantly, "Boys are a waste of time.”

Carrie visibly considers the wisdom, nods, turns to your brother, and says, "You're a waste of time."

"What did you teach these poor kids while I was away?" Eddie stands at the final step of your stairs, holding his arms out wide and giving a twirl, "What do you think?"

You pick up your jaw and cross the carpet to where he stands. Pale arctic blue suit to match your dress and you can see the faintest touch of the tattoos that terrify locals through the low-cut chest.

"Incredible, you're- " you stop yourself, "Incredible," Eddie looks ready to tease so you speak before he gets the spotlight, "If you lose in this, then maybe I'm not the fashion genius I think I am."

“Don’t put that much weight on it, sweets,” he digs into his pocket and pulls out a closed fist, "You should wear these."

The first uncurls and in his palm - bitten red raw from the cold - is a pair of glittering rubies.

"They're fake," he lampshades, moving the earrings slowly closer, "but… here."

You take the jewels and find yourself biting your bottom lip to contain the bubbling affection in your chest.

"I wanted to get you something nice," from his voice, you can hear shame and nervousness. It's nice to know you aren't alone, then. Eddie cards his fingers through his hair and brushes a lock behind his ear. A ruby gem sparkles through stray tresses, "I wanted people to know who I was with. Don’t need them mistaking me as Chris’ new boyfriend.”

"Thanks," you press your thumb into one of the pointed edges of your gifted earrings, "you didn't have to. Really."

When you look back to Eddie, he mouths shut up and holds out his hand, "I'll put 'em in. And yes, I did have to get them. I saw them and thought of you and then couldn't stop thinking about it until I bought them."

"So you think of me?"

You don't think you're teasing when you ask that.

It stills.

Eddie pauses.

Your brother gags and Carrie joins.

"Yeah, yeah," Eddie rushes to click the earrings in place, pecking your cheek before running to the door. He puts his hand on his hip and you're frozen in the living room as he speaks, "Alright, rugrats, you wanna go to your dance or no? Train's leaving the station."

You're so stupidly muddled that you don't even comment on the way Eddie's van has been cleaned out. No cans or wrappers or empty bags to crinkle or shriek when you shift your legs.

By the time you're actually inside the gymnasium's snowed-in forest set, voting has begun. You put on the theatrics of disappointment, but you can't pretend to not be grateful you missed the Jason Carver power hour. And you can't pretend to not be shocked when you see your name under the title of Snowflake Queen, right between Stacey and Chrissy.

"You know, I think you deserve a win tonight. In case I don't," Eddie ticks the box next to your name.

"Chrissy is gonna win," you x the box by Eddie Munson for Snowflake King, "We both know that."

"I guess," he checks himself for King as well, "but what kind of king would I make if I didn't support the woman that got me here? Hm?"

Not one at all.

You roll your eyes at his jest and Eddie checks the box by your name on your ballot. Snatching the paper from your hand, he practically skips to the locked box for votes and slips both ballots between the top slot. On his way back, Eddie hops and clicks his heels like a showtunes all-star.

"You're ridiculous," you simply watch as he takes your hand.

"And you're stunning," he kisses your knuckles.

You look away as he peers at you through his lashes. Heat fans your face and there's the sudden, unwelcomed concern that he may think you look sweaty,

"I've gotta powder my nose."

"Coke?" he gasps sharply, all for show, all so you laugh, "I can't believe you."

You grant his desires as you shake your head, "You know what that phrase means."

"I just like teasing," so you've gathered.

…

By the time you return to the cornstarch-stenched gym floor, principal Higgins is on stage with the band forced behind curtains. How cruel.

Chrissy flutters to your side in a lavender ball gown and wraps her arm around yours, "You're gonna miss it, we're getting called up!"

"Huh?"

Trin picks up the train of her periwinkle mermaid dress, "Nominees for royalty are being called to the stage. Duh!"

Stacey nods and presses a curl back into place as you all walk, "Honestly, what would you do without us?"

"Not be on stage," you climb the carpeted, moldy steps to where Higgins stands, "Which is actually looking pretty good right now."

Snowflake King nominees line up on the other side of Higgins. Eddie at the very edge, closest to you - at the head of your own line. You do your best to not squint under the harsh stage lights that beat on you.

Eddie, meanwhile, can't help but watch how your ruby earrings move as you do. He likes that you went with them. That you matched a dress to his suit. He likes that people can tell you two came together. Because he really didn't want people thinking he was Chrissy's boyfriend, but he wouldn't mind them assuming he might be yours. The stage lights cast a shine like heaven and the brief idea of you being an angel doesn't feel so lost when you two make eye contact. Painted lips stretch and you wave, he's utterly helpless to return it.

On his other side is the student council vice president, Thomas Heron. Somebody has to hear the good news, and Eddie decides it's him.

He turns and Thomas doesn't flinch away like he would have before you popularized him. Eddie jerks his head towards you, "God, isn't she beautiful?"

It echoes around the otherwise silent gym and that's how he realizes the microphone in front of him is still on and incredibly sensitive.

“Dude,” you tilt your head, chuckling.

He’s embarrassed. It’s nice to see things come full circle.

“Sorry,” he tries speaking into the mic, but now it’s suddenly dead.

Principal Higgins leans into the head microphone, and reads the letter handed to him by counselor Kelley, “And for the moment I know everyone has been waiting for… our Snowflake Royalty.”

Your heart echoes thickly in your ears, skin chills and bumps and you feel the telling of ants in your stomach. Butterflies in your dress.

“Snowflake Queen,” Higgins turns to your line and smiles, “winning by a landslide is…” students stomp in a makeshift drumroll and you already know who the winner may be, will be, “our very own - Chrissy Cunningham!”

No shit.

You, Trin, and Stacey lavish her in applause and hugs and lipstick-printed kisses to her cheeks as a bouquet and crown are slung to her sides. She’s nothing if not modest, and there are tears of joy springing in her eyes while the plastic crown of snowy clouds and crystal is laid on her honeyed head.

“And our Snowflake King…” he trails as the students drumroll stomp again.

Chrissy leans back, nudging you with her tulip bundle, “Nice earrings,” her eyes move to Eddie and she whispers, “Matching with your boyfriend.”

“He’s not my- “ you stop, glaring, “Hush.”

“A surprising usurp of our Homecoming King!” Higgins gestures to the line of nominees.

Eddie’s fingers knot together and this is the first time you get to see how much this bet actually means. Originally, you assumed he was in it for the twenty and your brains on his essays (figurative), and maybe - just maybe - he grew to love your company the way you did his. But you never quite thought he really cared.

Now, though, he watches with wide and petrified eyes as Higgins moves to stand between him and Thomas Heron, “It’s a close call, folks,” he claps both boys on the back, “With only a two-vote difference! Our winner and Hawkins High Snowflake King is…!”

The student body freezes as one. Your breath tightens and chest sticks together by the ribs.

The moment feels like eons.

You hear Chrissy crinkle the wrapper of her bouquet and you wrinkle your nose at the sound.

“Thomas Bradley Heron - our senior class vice president!”

Confetti in whites and blues of varying shades rains down upon the winners and the royalty rejects.

You deflate, the confetti shredding through your bravado like glass to a balloon. Even Chrissy’s disappointment is palpable until she remembers she’s illuminated by a spotlight. Eddie hisses a “fuck” and tosses his head back, though he does clap for the sweet puppy incarnate that resides in Thomas Heron.

“Congrats, man,” Eddie mutters to Thomas - and nobody flinches when he speaks or raises his hand.

The bizarreness is not lost on Eddie. That everyone hated him and now waves when he walks by in the corridors.

You meander to Eddie’s side as a bedazzled crown is laid on Thomas’ head. He holds out a hand and assists you down the stage stairs, “Well, that was a major bust.”

“Yeah,” he reaches out and delicately picks a confetti sprinkle from your shoulder, “but we had fun, right?”

“Hm,” you rustle a few confetti slips from his hair, “we did.”

When Eddie was younger, he used to think that the vows said during weddings were “in sickness and in hell” - it was only when he was sixteen and ring-bore for Wayne’s best friend that he learned otherwise. He likes his childhood version better though, “in sickness and in health” implies that there is only a desire to stay if better times are promised. But since being corrected, he’s known it as health. However, with you, Eddie now wonders if the difference even matters. He also wonders if maybe in a dream world there’s the chance you’ll let him swear to you that he’d crawl through hell for just a second of your time.

God, he’s changed.

Jason, in all his usual assholery, slow claps as he approaches you and Eddie at the landing of the short stack stairs.

“Not now, Carver,” you groan.

“Yeah, you’ll get your money, just back off,” Eddie shoves Jason back by the shoulder.

But the dimwit remains unperturbed, Jason steps closer and purses his lips, “You’re not so tough when your Satan disguise isn't on, are you, Munson?”

Eddie grabs him by the collar and throttles him a little, grinning “Don’t be too excited, Josie, tomorrow is business as usual,” his grip tightens, choking Jason a little, “So just be patient, okay?”

The venom with which Eddie spits his words proves too heavy on his shoulders, and Jason scutters off to where Patrick and Andy stand in plain, vomit-inducingly boring black suits.

You watch as the trio high-five and circle jerk over their victory.

This is technically the end.

You and Eddie don’t need each other.

Tomorrow, he returns to Hellfire and you’re back with the jocks and preps. It isn’t like you two are dating. Just a couple of good months. A handful of memories to giggle at until you two eventually grow so distant that you won’t even wave at each other in the hallways.

Your eyes drift to Eddie, cluelessly picking confetti out of his twisted hair under golden and cornflower lights, and you can’t help but shrink at what a miserable existence that will be. So you prolong your delight now.

“Wanna watch The Dark Crystal again?”

He sighs deep and plucks another confetti slice from you, “Absolutely nothing sounds better.”

…

You can’t believe that you didn’t notice how clean the van floor bed was until now, “Holy shit. Was this already done when you drove us here?”

“Yeah,” Eddie laughs, glancing at you through his peripherals, “Damn, what had you so distracted?”

“I don’t even know,” a terrible lie, but you don’t bother to rectify it. Something weary rests on your bones. Dies there and rots. You lean back into the passenger seat and stare at the full moon, its beams hit Eddie’s face lovingly, “You know, we may have lost, but at least you don’t have to clean out the van post misery. Still impressed, by the way.”

“Just didn’t feel like hearing you complain the whole way home.”

You pointedly ignore the way he refers to your house as home, “Aw, you remembered I hate wrapper crinkles.”

“Of course, I did, I’m in love with you,” he says it like he’s talking to a friend. So casual and at ease until he realizes exactly what it was that he really said.

You rock forward and bang your chest, breath hitching, “You’re what?!”

“Nothing,” he blanches, “A dick. I’m a dick, that’s what I said.”

“No way, I totally heard you, Eddie! Just say it again!”

“Why?”

He looks at you and you smile, head tilting with all that charm he so desperately fell for, “Just say it again.”

Eddie matches your expression and shrugs, tense, “I’m in love with you.”

You suddenly feel the urge to make him pull over. Just to be closer than what the center console allows.

But you were never the best at speaking so plainly, “Of course, you are.”

“Okay. you know what?”

He glares thinly.

You giggle and he joins.

“I’m in love with you, too.”

You're quiet, but he hears it. Most definitely, he did - he was searching for it, in fact.

Eddie tries to smother the lopsided grin that surfaces, but you most assuredly see it, “Of course, you are.”

The beloved rustbucket van sputters as Eddie pulls along the curb of your house, and you two hurry inside. In the doorway, you peel off ache-rucking heels and leave them in one of many cubbies, Eddie copies.

“So, what should we- “

He takes your cheeks in both hands, pausing long enough for you to stop him if you so desired. Then he commits to the possibility of rejection, “Can I kiss you?” he breathes in shaky, nervous, “Please?”

You cup his face in your hands, giddy and heart thrumming at the warmth there, “Yes. Please.”

Eddie lets his eyes flutter shut, whispering against your lips, “Thank God.”

He kisses you there, sweet and adoring and all things you never would’ve assumed from Eddie upon first meeting him. He tastes like strawberries and cigarettes and he smells like weed and cheap cologne and, faintly, gentle wafts of your own perfume.

When you two part, it’s like the confetti is raining again - but this time, you are the winner. Maybe not Snowflake Queen and King, but something sweeter. Ambrosia and nectar.

Eddie simpers, then rears his head further, brows rising as he “Hmmmmmm”s in an imitation of Barry Dennen’s Chamberlain.

“Ew, don’t- “

He bounces off towards your living room, clinging to one of your hands, “Come on, you promised The Dark Crystal,” when you refuse to immediately jump to his side, he inhales and calls out just as Kira does to beckon her animal friends, “Kame-le-ahhhhh!”

“Alright, jeez,” you yank Eddie back to yourself and kiss his cheek, “You, Eddie Munson, are despicable - just using me for my possession of The Dark Crystal.”

“And you, sweet angel, are evil for making me wear letterman jackets,” you both gag at the very memory.

“Rest assured, that’s never happening again,” you kiss his lips again, another peck that he seems desperate to elongate, “You look hotter in your clothes.”

“Really?”

“Hell yeah.”

“Then let’s get me outta this itchy suit, yeah?” he winks.

You roll your eyes but already begin pulling him towards the staircase for your room, “Yeah. Okay.”

Even if you have to put up with Eddie reciting half of The Dark Crystal in a holey black shirt and checkered boxers on your couch by the end of the night, you’d still gladly consider yourself a winner. And that is worth more than any fifty bucks or a Snowflake royalty title. Fewer crowns, though :(

~~

rbs appreciated (slay)

tagging people i think would maybe enjoy this

@kitmon @chainsaw-man-inserts @punk-in-docs @ramona-thorns @indouloureux @bbylogs

#pukes and cries this took so long #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things fic #enemies to lovers speedrun #stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie.🍓

[eboshishusbandwinkwink]

Stranger things young adults reacting...

... to their lover having an eating disorder (Pt. 2)

!!! Minors DNI !!!

Tw: mention of eating disorder, talk about bullying and insecurities, unhealthy habits

Also, nsfw warning for Argyle bc he gonna show ya some sweet loving. Tho I'm not gonna write down all of it.

Characters: Robin Buckley, Billy Hargrove, Chrissy Cunningham, Argyle (he could be read as trans reader tbh)

Pt. 1:

A/n: I'm calling Max mom Mrs Mayfield bc I legit forgot her name so... ignore that

@jolinghkf Robin up first just for you, my friend. I hope you enjoy it.

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

Robin Buckley

• As we Germans say "Schock schwere Not."

• She's not upset, but boy she's worried

• You're crying? She'll hug you, care gor you, tell you you're beautiful again and again and again and- fifty years later - again and again. Until you get it :<

• Makes sure you eat at least enough to get through the day once she finds out

"Are you excited?", Robin asked as she looked at you with a wide grin. The clip in her hair held the bangs she had out of her face, which showed you all of her face.

The jeans she wore fit perfectly with her white shirt, and it looked wonderful on her. It made you want to kiss her right then and there, but you couldn't. Not yet.

"I am excited." You smiled and walked onwards. You were on the way to a restaurant for a little date "between friends". That was at least what you'd both told your parents.

You were pretty excited for the date, but on the other hand, you had gained a lot of weight lately, which made you anxious. So much so that it made your stomach hurt. But you ignored it, which turned out to be a bad mistake.

The two of you walked into the crowded restaurant and sat down at the table you asked for. Once a waiter came, you two ordered your food.

And then Robin smiled as she leaned forward. "I have to tell you something. I wanted to earlier, but I forgot and kinda just remembered."

You raised a brow before smiling lightly. "Let's hear it, princess."

She was quiet for a moment but ignored the nickname with a slight blush before she leaned back.

"So... Steve talked to me earlier. Kept on talking about how hot he found Eddie and stuff..." She started, explaining the whole story to you.

Near the end, your food had already arrived.

"And Eddie heard all of it, right?", she said after explaining everything Steve had told her. "And so.... Eddie stands at the counter, smirks and.... you won't believe what he said."

You took a sip of your drink. "What did he say?"

She smiled and covered her face. "Why don't you join me for the movies I'm about to get then?"

She looked up at you with a smile. "(Y/n), they're having a date tonight! Eddie and Steve are probably fucking in Eddies trailer right now."

You couldn't help but laugh at this. You knew the two liked eachother, but this was a turn of events that you really hadn't expected. "No way."

She nodded quickly before the two of you finally started eating. "I felt like I was in some kind of movie."

You smiled and sighed softly. You really loved Robin, which made you force yourself to eat the food in front of you so nothing would be wasted.

Once you were done, you'd started feeling dizzy. Not because you had physical problems, really, it was more that you were mentally so drained from eating all this that it made you physically hurt.

"Are you okay?", Robin asked you and reached for your hand, but you stood up before she could take it and smiled. "Yeah! I'll be right back, okay?"

You didn't wait for an answer as you ran to the restaurants bathroom. You got into one of the cabins and locked it just to break down in tears. The twinge in your stomach made you feel like you wanted to throw up.

You tried to fight it. You really did. The urge to force it out. But it was too big. You just jad to get this calorie bomb out of you.

And you did. Once all of it was out, you hung over the toilet, tears staining your face and body trembling like it hadn't in a long time.

You froze when Robins voice sounded through the door after she had knocked on it. "(Y/n)? Are you in there? Is everything okay?"

You cleared your throat before replying as calmly as possible. "Yea! I'm fine. Just feeling a little weird."

Robin hummed softly. "Alright. Think you can come out? We can go home if you want."

You felt your stomach twist with guilt. "O-Oh.... Well.... Yeah go back to out place. I'll.... I'll be there."

"(Y/n)? What's wrong? You sound like you cried.", she now mumbled softly and it made you feel even worse.

"I didn't." You simply said before you stood up, flushed, and got out. You were lying, and you knew she knew when you stepped out and looked at her face.

"Home?" She asked with a soft smile and held out her hand. You took it and nodded. Of course, you paid first, but once that was done, you made your way home.

Robin took you to her place and went to sit you down in her living room. She then crouched in front of you. "What happened?"

For a moment, you hesitated, but then you sighed softly. "I uh... had to throw up."

She gasped softly. "Seriously? Why? Was there something you didn't like or couldn't handle?"

You shook your head softly before chewing on the inside of your cheek. You felt yourself tearing up again, to which Robin basically jumped to hug you tightly.

"It's okay, please just tell me what's going on." She whispered to you, and you basically melted into her arms.

"I... I'm so sorry. I just... I've been gaining so much weight lately and... and it- it hurts me. It hurts me so much.", you cried out softly before sobbing into her shoulder.

Robin was silent and just held you as you told her more and more. When you were done with speaking, she pulled back and gave you a light smile.

"You're beautiful. No matter if you gained weight or not. Actually... I'm proud you got to gain weight. I know you don't like it. But it doesn't change that you're so very gorgeous."

You were quiet as she talked. You wanted to believe her, but... "But what if... I get fat and you'll hate me?"

Robin looked shocked at your question. "Don't you ever think that again. You're so beautiful. I don't only love you because you're hot."

She chuckled. "I mean, you are. But that's not the only reason. You're kind, caring, loving, protective and smart. Do I have to keep going?"

You shook your head as you gave a light smile.

"Good. Because even if you gain weight, I will still love you nonetheless. Got it?"

You nodded softly as you wiped your eyes. "I love you, Robin."

"I love you too, (Y/n)."

Billy Hargrove

• Oh lord he mad

• don't get me wrong, he's not mad at you

• He's mad at the mf always making comments about your weight aHeUgM Neil AAHEM-

You smiled as you stood in front of the door to Billys house, bag around your shoulder. It was packed with things you'd need for the weekend at Billys place.

You looked forward to it for days now. What you didn't look forward to was Neil's horrible comments about you and your body. They were annoying and disgusting, but you were more than ready to endure them for Billys sake.

You rang the bell, the door opening mere seconds later as Mrs. Mayfield opened the door for you. "Hey, (Y/n)! How are you doing?"

Your smile widened as you stepped inside once she let you. Once you took off your shoes, you finally replied. "I'm doing very good, thank you! How are you?"

She chuckled and closed the door. "I'm also very good, thank you."

You nodded softly and walked up to the living room where Max and Neil sat. You waved at them happily. "Hello!"

Max waved right back with a smile while Neil just eyed you up and down before scoffing. "You gained weight."

Your mood sank almost immediately, but God forbid you'd show them that. "I know, sir. I haven't been able to do my sports lately."

Before the conversation could go downhill, Max spoke up. "Billy is in his room."

You nodded softly and went to go to his room. Music blasted from inside, which made you smile as you knocked on the door loudly.

The music was turned down before Billys voice sounded through the door. "What?" You opened the door and peeked inside before wahing lightly. "Hi."

He visibly relaxed before turning to you fully. "Hello. Come in."

You nodded and got into the room before closing the door and putting your back aside, just to run up to your boyfriend and jump into his arms.

He hugged you tightly and properly pulled you up so he could hold you close. You leaned back lightly to look at his face with a happy face. "Hey, baby. How are you?"

"Good." He mumbled softly. "And you?"

"Amazing! I'm so excited about our weekend together." You leaned your head on his while you spoke. "So absolutely excited."

He nodded softly and sat down with you still in his arms. Without really realizing, you pushed yourself off his lap with your knees, but the moment he noticed that, he pushed you back down.

"The fuck was that?", he asked as he looked at you. You stared back at him with quite the bit of confusion. "What was what?"

"Why the hell did you push yourself up? You wanna get off?"

You immediately shook your head. "No! No. Absolutely not. I just... I don't know." You thought for a moment. "I guess it was because I reel heavy lately?"

"Heavy?" He looked at you before laughing wholeheartedly. "You and heavy? (Y/n), I can lift you with one arm. If you're heavy, then what am I? A Boulder? A skyscraper, perhaps?"

You couldn't help but laugh at his comments, considering that they sounded so illogical. "No?"

"Exactly. So don't say that shit again. Who even told you that?"

You sighed softly and leaned on him a bit. "Dunno. Maybe your dad's comments did get to me more than I thought they would."

You could feel his hands grip onto your hips tightly as if he wanted to push you off and storm out. But he didn't. Instead, he took a deep breath and scoffed. "Of course it's him. It's always fucking him."

You kissed his head softly before moving down to peck his nose and then his lips. "It's okay, really. It'll go away again."

The two of you kept talking, having a few playful wrestle sessions in between (no, seriously, you two were literally wrestling) and even chased each other here and there as a joke.

That was until Mrs. Mayfield called everyone out for dinner.

You happily went to the living room, and Billy followed close behind you. The two of you sat together, and once dinner began, so did the talking.

You ate quietly as plans for the next few days were made. Of course, you also spoke up now and then if you were involved or if you were asked, but you did prefer to stay quiet.

After a while, you finished your food and decided to get yourself some more of it since it really just was so good. Before you could even get anything on your plate, a simple comment made you feel your stomach drop all over again.

"Don't you think you've eaten enough?"

You turned to smile at Neil lightly. "I'm still hungry though."

You could see Billy ready to throw his plate against Neil's head, but before anyone could react another shot came you way.

"So you don't kind becoming fat?"

That was it. Your Damm broke. All the hard work to not let his words affect you, have failed.

And you cried. You cried like a little girl that fell, and all hell broke lose. Billy yelled at his father, and his mom tried to stop them from fighting. Max was in front of you, trying to hold you and make sure you feel okay.

Your sobs grew louder, and within two hours, the police were called in for the constant fighting.

In the end, Billy and his father were stuck at the police station while you had Max and her mother.

The following evening, you were back at your place. No weekend. Not even a full day. And eventually - after a full week - you heard news of Billy being back.

And he came to check on you. You were still damaged, but you gave in. You got closer and closer over time again.

But you wondered what had happened to his father. But you never found out. You never had the chance to get and eventually forgot.

Then, you fully opened up. About how his fathers comments hurt her. How she felt violated all the time.

And he loved you. He loved you like you were perfect. Like he loved you. And that was all you needed right now.

Chrissy Cunningham

• She'll fight a bitch, immediately

• If it's a girl at least

• She gets so savage it's concerning really

• Girl goes soft w you

"Chrissy! Hurry up!", you said as you waited for her to join you for cheerleading practice. She came running to you with a soft laugh. "Relax! We still have time."

She took a quick look around before she pressed a kiss to your lips softly, just to run off towards the gym.

You smiled lightly and followed her happily. You were excited for today. Especially because the cheer team would decide who'd be the one on top of the pyramid today.

You and Chrissy walked in together and stood by the rest of the team as the talking began. In the end, almost everyone was sorted somewhere, but Chrissy spoke up after some time.

"Actually... I think we should put (Y/n) on top of the pyramid today! She's never done it, and I think it'd be time for her to try!"

Your face heated up as you looked at her. "Seriously? You think I can do it?"

Chrissy nodded quickly and put her arm around your shoulder. "Absolutely. You'd do really good."

One of the girls crossed her arms. "Are you insane? None of us can even hold her up with how fat she is."

It was quiet as you looked at the girl. Too quiet. You slowly looked back to Crhissy, who removed her arm from your shoulders as she put them on her hips.

"What did you just say to her?"

You felt shivers go down your spine at the sound of her voice, but the other girl didn't seem all too impressed quite yet.

"I said: She's too fat to be held up."

Chrissy walked up to the girl with a smile, looking down at her. "Listen here, bitch."

You were shocked at her words, but you were not going to stop her at all.

"You have no right to judge her, alright? Your hair looks like you fried it in a pan, and your makeup makes you look like a clown. On top of that your body is the size of a fucking branch, so you look at yourself before judging anyone else. And watch your words before speaking about anyone I'm close with. Do you understand me?"

The girl was quiet before she quickly nodded and stepped back to hold herself at a safe distance from Chrissy as if she were about to pounce on her.

You couldn't help the pride and gratefulness rising in your chest and warming your whole heart and soul.

"Chrissy. I think that's enough.", you said gently to which she turned to you, looking worried. "Are you okay though?", she asked softly.

You nodded to her question and smiled widely. "Perfectly fine, yes."

She walked back to your side just to cross her arms. "Does anyone else have complaints? No? Good."

At the end of practice, you were pretty proud of yourself since you had managed on the pyramid pretty well.

You and Chrissy left together, and on your way home, the two of you talked. Chrissy took your hand once you were far enough from the school. "Are you sure you're okay? What she said was pretty rude..."

You smiled and looked at her. "It was, but you defended me, so I think I'm alright. I mean... I felt hurt at first and a little self-conscious too, but..." You smiled and held her hand tighter. "I don't think it'll affect me as much as it usually would."

She tilted her head softly. "What do you do when stuff like this does get to you?"

The question caught you off guard, and you felt a pit in your stomach, but she did deserve to know. And you wanted to talk to her about it anyway.

"Well... if someone comments on my weight, I... tend to watch what I eat, how much of it and... if it does get too much, I just don't eat..."

Chrissy seemed shocked but nodded softly before replying to what you'd said. "I see... But, you know you're beautiful, right? No matter your body weight."

You nodded softly. "Normally, I do. It's just that... sometimes I tend to forget, you know?"

Chrisdy nodded softly once again. "I get that. I have that feeling at times. But then you come by and make my day better!"

You laughed at her comment and nodded softly. "I love you, Chrissy."

"And I love you, (Y/n)!", she said happily before she looked around just to lean in and giving you another soft kiss, like earlier.

The two of you stood for a while just to be able to share a proper kiss before you pulled away. "Sleepover at mine?", you asked, and Chrissy agreed immediately.

The two of you ended up watching movies, talking, ordering food, and then giving eachother a reward for today's good work.

To you, it felt like no one could ever ruin this between the two of you. If it were legally possible, you'd marry Chrissy right now.

But maybe you don't need that. Maybe all you need is for her to be by your side forever.

Argyle

(My man<33)

• Soft boy doesn't understand cuz he loves his chubby baby

• Will show you how beautiful you are in a not so harmless way

• Will quote literally kiss every single part of you that you're insecure about

You sighed as you got comfortable on your couch. You were currently waiting for your boyfriend to come by.

The two of you had planned a movie night with some weed, snacks, and drinks. It was his recommendation since he knew it helped you on stressful days, which today had been.

When the doorbell rang, you jumped up to go open the door. You raised your arms happily when you saw Argyle, cheerig happily. "Babe!"

He smiled and walked in just to pick up and hug you tightly. "Hi."

You wrapped around him like a koala before he closed the door and walked inside with you still in his arms.

Only now, you noticed the bags he carried. As he was placing them down, you took a glance inside and saw the plenty of snacks and drinks inside.

It already made you feel excited for the night together with him.

Argyle sat down with you still in his arms, and for a few minutes, all you did was hold each other close and be happy that the other was around.

Once that was done, Argyle pulled back with a happy smile. "I already rolled a lil fella for us so we can get right to the fun part!"

You chuckled and kissed his lips softly before nodding. "Let's prepare the snacks quickly and pick a movie. Then we can start."

You got up and took the bag to put the snacks in fitting bowls and boxes before bringing them back to the living room and placing them down.

Argyle got blankets from your room and put them down on the couch. Once the two of you were ready, you got comfortable on him once more, just to wrap yourself and him up in blankets lightly.

An ashtray was placed on the table as well since you needed to put out the joint somewhere once it was done.

Argyle took the first few hits before handing it over. As you smoked, the two of you picked out a movie to watch and, in the end, decided on dirty dancing.

The two of you talked and laughed as the movie played, loving it. Once the joint was done, you put it out just to lean on Argyle happily.

He gently let his hand caress your hair, you playing with his as well. "Why aren't you eating, love?", he asked you and you sighed softly.

"If I eat more, I'm gonna squish you.", you said somewhat jokingly, but he looked at you and raised a brow. "Squish me? Pardon my wording here, but like... you know I'd be into that, right?"

You laughed softly and shook your head. "I know, babe. But I don't want to be like... yknow... to much?"

"Who the hell told you that shit? You are just perfect, and you will be perfect even with a few pounds more, yknow?" He said while continuously poking your side.

You giggled and squirmed. "No- Stop! Haha! Please." He stopped and held you closer just to kiss your cheek softly. "You're so beautiful."

You looked at him as he lightly dipped you back. "You think so?"

He nodded softly and smiled. "I know so." He then started kissing your cheek again and also went down to kiss your neck.

You chuckled and pat his head softly. "What are you doing?"

He happily kept giving you soft kisses before finally replying. "Showing your body the love it deserves."

You felt your cheeks heat up when he started to kiss up your belly and to your chest after pushing up your shirt.

You squirmed more and more the closer he got to your chest. It just made your heart pound a little harder.

Even your breasts weren't spared from the loving of your boyfriend as he gave them several kisses all over too.

"Should I keep going?", he asked as he sat up slowly again. You looked at him before looking away. "Please do."

He let out a small laugh as he properly laid you down on the couch. "But first you gotta eat a lil." He said before grabbed a random candy just to hold it up to your lips.

You opened your mouth and ate it with a small smile. What you didn't expect was for him to lean down, kiss your cheek, and mumble 'good girl/boy' into your ear.

You felt a full-blown shiver go down your spine as your belly twisted in the best way possible. "Holy shit..."

You covered your face as you looked away, not realizing what you did by doing that. The next thing you felt was an arm wrapping around your waist and raising it off the couch.

You let out a little yelp and looked down at him while he unbuttoned the pants you were before smiling at you. "May I?"

You smiled and let your head fall back as you nodded. "Please, just do it." You heard him chuckle as he removed your pants slowly, leaning down to kiss up and down your thighs.

You wanted to close your legs but couldn't, since his head was in the way and his hands holding your thighs didn't quite help either.

You couldn't help squirming as his lips pressed onto that one spot on your thighs that usually had you wailing when he bit into it.

And that's just what he did. You could've cum right then and there when his teeth dug into the soft flesh of your thigh and you let hin hear that from how lewd the moan was that left you.

The night only got more fun from that point on. And every time you questioned your beauty, he made sure to remind you just how damn beautiful you are.

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

A/n: I feel like this took me way too long, I'm so sorry 😭😭

#stranger things #billy hargrove #argyle #chrissy cunningham #robin buckley #ED #mental health #Eating disorder #smut #stranger things smut #stranger things x reader #x reader #billy hargrove x reader

[feeder86]

Billy’s Bad Boy

“Good morning, Rob. The usual?” Billy asked with a smile, as his favourite customer waddled in: a giant, 450lb burly and handsome guy in his mid fifties, with a particular love of all Billy’s tasty treats.

“Yes please!” the greedy guy grinned, swallowing back saliva as he glanced at everything on offer. 

If Rob had been gay and twenty years younger, Billy would have been after him for sure. The guy was so friendly and charismatic; supporting Billy as he worked his way up from owning a little mobile take-out truck, to the large premises he now inhabited in the middle of town. It hadn’t been easy to get the business up and running, but there was clearly a gap in the market for tasty snacks in this town, and Billy was sure going to fill it. 

“Are you working out in this hot sun today, Rob?” Billy asked as he plated up Rob’s usual selection of cream-filled donuts. “You’d best have another one of these - on the house,” he winked flirtatiously at him as he put out another donut on the man’s loaded tray of food. “You’re going to need your energy!”

Rob smiled back, always enjoying the way Billy playfully flirted with him, despite Rob being happily married for thirty years. “You know, my pants don’t quite fit like they used to since I started coming here every day,” the big man joked, rubbing his large, deliciously rounded gut.

“Good! That’s exactly what I like to hear!” Billy nodded back. “You can buy new pants, but you can’t get donuts like mine anywhere else!”

Rob chuckled and mumbled in agreement. “Quite right,” he replied, handing over his card to pay.

“YOU NEED TO KEEP CONTROL OF THAT BOY OF YOURS, ROB PARRY!” shouted a sudden angry voice. “How can you live with yourselves? You need to put him on a fucking leash! He’s an animal! My husband’s car is a fucking wreck because of him!”

Billy turned and looked frantically at Fran, stood behind him, pointing an angry finger at Rob. “Fran!” he shouted, mortified that one of his employees was screaming at a customer. “Get back in the kitchen area, now!” he ordered.

Fran exchanged a few more bitter words at the man before she finally followed her instruction and slid back into the kitchen, every bit as angry as she had been when she burst out. 

“I’m so sorry about that, Rob. I’ll be having a word with Fran. There’s no charge today,” he offered apologetically, handing back the payment card. 

“No, no, it’s fine,” Rob countered, passing back his card to be charged. “My son’s been in trouble with the police again. I know he has a lot to answer for around here. He’s slowly becoming ‘Public Enemy Number One.’ Smashing up that car the other day is the least of it. Trust me, I’ve heard a lot worse than what Fran had to say in the last couple of years. I just don’t know what to do with him. I’m at the end of my tether.”

“Who is your son?” Billy asked, wondering why this was the first he’d heard about the renegade offspring. After all, Rob had been coming for donuts from him for a couple of years by now.

“Jensen Parry,” Rob sighed. “I’m sure you’ve heard the name about town before.”

“Jensen is your son?” Billy asked, hardly believing it. He certainly knew the name. Jensen had earned a somewhat notorious reputation for troublemaking, fighting and joyriding. Billy had been in the year below him in high school, before Jensen had been expelled in his final year, without graduating. There really was nothing about him that seemed in any way connected to Rob. Jensen was a smart-mouthed, arrogant jerk who worked his way from one bed to another with his pretty face and large-framed, overly muscular body; the bad boy that girls knew they should avoid, but never could; even if it was obvious to everyone that he was holding a one-way ticket to prison through all his wild antics.

“He’s not a bad lad,” Rob sighed. “He’s just a little lost. He hangs out with a rough crowd; guys he knows through his gym. But he’s always been easily led and he thinks his ridiculous behaviour is incredibly hilarious. I was exactly the same when I was younger; before I met my wife. I fell in love with her cooking and that was it for me!” he joked with a forced smile, whilst patting his oversized belly. “That’s all my Jensen needs; someone to love and calm him down a bit, in the same way my wife did with me.”

Billy nodded sympathetically at Rob. He couldn’t imagine how much stress it must have caused being the father of Jensen Parry. Despite Rob’s optimism, Billy was inclined to share the opinion of the rest of the town: Jensen was a lost cause.

A few weeks later, Billy was enjoying the opening night of the brand new bar across the street from his store. As a local entrepreneur, he was often invited along to events such as these, and he was more than happy to support local businesses where he could. The bar looked great, although the selection of alcohol on offer was perhaps a little mismatched with the clientele here in town.

“Jensen Parry has just barged his way in,” fretted the girl behind the bar, looking over Billy’s shoulder. “That’s the last thing we need on our opening night! I knew we should have hired someone on the door. He’s going to ruin everything!”

Billy looked back and saw the man they were so worried about, sneering as he looked around, knowing that he wasn’t invited. “Leave him to me,” Billy sighed after downing the last of his beer and standing up. Perhaps something was missing in Billy’s brain, but guys like Jensen didn’t intimidate him like they did most people. His parents had never been much use to him and so he’d learned the fine arts of charm and tact could get him a lot further in life than anything else could. It was how he had survived high school completely unscathed by guys like Jensen, and the reason why so many people came into his store on a regular basis. “Jensen! Hey, buddy!” he called out with his hand outstretched and ready to shake. “Long time, no see!”

“Do I know you?” Jensen asked; a little caught off guard by Billy’s friendliness; seemingly insulted by it perhaps.

“I was in the year below you in high school. But, trust me, buddy, everyone knew who you were!” he chuckled, patting Jensen on his broad back, as if congratulating him on a job well done. “You know, I was telling a friend of mine about the cafeteria stunt you pulled back in the day. She thought I was making it up! She didn’t believe a word of it!”

Jensen’s smirk was full of nostalgia and his suspicion of Billy seemed to be dissipating.

“Care for drink?” Billy asked. “I’d love to know how you did it.”

Jensen looked around, as if searching for a better offer, and finding none. “Sure. Why not?” he nodded, starting to head to the bar when Billy politely stopped him.

“Not here,” Billy whispered. “Shitty, overpriced cocktails are not really my thing. Let’s go somewhere we can get a proper beer.”

Clearly already a little intoxicated, Jensen nodded and started to leave the building, fine to go wherever in order to get a free drink. Billy looked back to see the girl behind the counter mouthing ‘thank you’ to him across the room; clasping her hands as if she had been praying.

Billy’s satisfaction at having lured Jensen out of the bar was soon spoiled by the fact that the security standing outside the next bar simply raised their hands and barred Jensen from entering. “You know you’re not allowed in here,” they explained gruffly. “Beat it!” 

Jensen hurled back a barrage of expletives and on they walked to the next place, where, unfortunately, the same thing happened once again. Billy cringed to be seen with such a loud and openly aggressive guy; no less than two hundred and twenty pounds of giant muscle and taller than any of the security folks. More than once he thought Jensen might start using his fists to get what he wanted. But, even so, Billy still wanted to play his part and keep Jensen from going back to the cocktail bar and spoiling their opening night.

“I know somewhere we can go,” Billy stated, forcing a smile onto his face. He led Jensen back along the street to the front of his store and opened the door. 

“This is your place?” Jensen asked, obviously surprised. 

“It sure is,” Billy nodded. “Take a seat.”

“My dad talks about this place all the time,” Jensen mumbled, taking his seat as instructed. “I think your donuts are the reason why he’s so fucking fat!” he laughed.

“I know your dad,” Billy smiled, heading into the back for a couple of beers. “He’s a funny guy. And as much as I would love to take credit for how big your dad is, I’m pretty sure he was already enormous, even before he started coming in here every day!”

Jensen accepted his beer and chuckled back. “Yeah, dad’s always had a sweet tooth!” There was a warmth in his eyes, as if he truly did love and admire his dad, despite everything he was putting him through. “Mom overfeeds him. He’s like one of those fat, spoiled house cats to her!”

“Well, thanks in part to your dad’s sweet tooth, this place is turning into a little goldmine,” Billy joked, clinking his beer bottle with Jensen’s as if making a toast. “I’m looking into opening another store a few miles away. Then I’ll be able to fatten up a whole load of other folks, just like your dad!” he chuckled.

Jensen seemed a little restless and he was taking his beer down in long, gulping strides. Before Billy would know it, he’d be finished and out that door; back harassing the rest of the town in no time at all.

“You want to try some of the stuff I sell?” Billy asked, trying to hide his desperation to keep Jensen where he was. He didn’t wait for a response before he got up and headed to the kitchen area. “These are the ones your dad likes best,” he explained, returning at lightning speed, holding a plateful of donuts. 

Jensen reached and took one, stuffing it into his mouth in the same way his father did. It was the first similarity between the pair of them that Billy had ever noticed. “So, how many calories are in these things?” Jensen asked suspiciously, taking his second helping.

Billy laughed to himself. “Oh… these things are absolutely PACKED full of calories!” he replied wickedly. “How else do you think I get them to taste so good? Just, keep it to yourself… I don’t want folks getting put off coming here! If they all gain a few pounds, that’s just too bad!” he teased.

“So you really weren’t kidding when you said you were fattening everyone up around here,” Jensen nodded with strange approval. Undeterred, he picked up the next donut and fed it into his mouth. Now that Billy was looking properly, the similarities between Jensen and his father really were quite striking.

Despite everything, Billy found that he had quite enjoyed his conversation with Jensen that night. After discussing school days, the conversation had turned to Jensen’s dad, since that was the only other connection they shared. It really seemed to Billy that Jensen looked up to his father in ways that most people wouldn’t be able to identify. And for that, Billy found that he actually quite liked the town’s ‘bad boy’ after all.

“How did Jensen’s court case go?” Billy asked a couple of months later as Rob came in for his morning coffee and donut.

“A suspended sentence with community service,” Rob sighed with relief. “We’re all so relieved the judge went so easy on him. Now he’s just got to keep his nose clean for two years,” he grumbled pessimistically.

“That’s excellent news!” Billy beamed, surprising himself with how much better he felt, knowing that Jensen wasn’t sitting in a prison cell right now.

“You’ve been a great help these last few weeks, you know,” Rob went on, looking with the utmost sincerity into Billy’s eyes. “He likes coming in here and having a chat with you. You’re one of the few people in town who actually bothers with him. It’s what he needs, you know; a level-headed friend. Not one of those stupid gym buddies of his. A bunch of jerks, every one of them!”

“Jensen’s a nice guy,” Billy nodded. “Sure, he’s made mistakes. But who hasn’t?”

“I’m glad you think so,” Rob smiled, looking around to see if anyone else was listening in. “Because I think you might be the key to keeping him out of trouble for the next few months.” With that, he reached into his deep pocket and brought out a thick wad of rolled up notes, passing them to Billy.

“Rob? What the hell is this?” Billy gasped, wanting to pass it back immediately.

“I know you give him free donuts and coffees when he comes in. You don’t have to do that and you shouldn’t be out of pocket because of it.”

“Well… that’s just… me being nice,” Billy mumbled. “But this is…” His eyes boggled at how much cash was in his hand still. “Rob, there’s no way he’s eaten enough for this amount of money.”

“No, I know that,” Rob admitted. “But the more time he’s in here with you, the less time he has out there, getting himself into trouble with the scum that he hangs around with.”

Billy tried to protest, but Rob was having none of it. And, not wanting to argue with his favourite customer, Billy eventually slipped the bundle of notes into his pocket with an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach. Rob really was counting on him to help keep Jensen on the straight and narrow. However, that was probably going to take a lot more than just a few donuts and coffees.

“If I get this job, I’ll be able to start paying you back for all these snacks and coffees you give me,” Jensen smiled as he bit into his third donut of the day.

“If you get that job, you’re going to start paying back your mom for trashing her car first!” Billy laughed. “I love that you thought about giving me something, but these donuts cost almost nothing to make. You don’t need to feel guilty about having a few lousy treats.” 

The guilt of having so much money handed to him still weighed heavily on Billy’s mind. Two or three donuts a day didn’t seem enough to cover it all and he found himself upping his game on a daily basis; an extra coffee here, a milkshake there, with more added whipped cream,. But just the fact that Jensen was talking about the idea of holding down a steady job was such a huge step for him. Before, he had crashed from one employment to another, exhausting his dad’s many contacts within the construction industry until he was no longer welcome anywhere.

“How’re things going with that second store you wanted to open?” Jensen asked. “You’ll have a whole new town to fatten up with your treats soon!”

Billy smirked. He’d only been joking when he’d said that he was fattening up the neighbourhood, but Jensen had seemed to hang onto that idea as if Billy really was that wicked. Then again, perhaps he was, Billy chuckled to himself. “I’m still looking for the right premises,” he explained. “So, for now, I’m just going to focus on fattening up everyone in this town first,” he winked.

“That’s fine by me!” Jensen nodded. “One of the guys my dad works with says he’s gained thirty pounds since you opened up here.”

“Which one is that?” Billy asked, trying to think of the many construction guys he’d seen with Jensen’s dad.

“Steve. The younger one with short brown hair.”

“Oh, yes! I know who you mean,” Billy laughed to himself. “Yeah, that one is getting proper little man boobs and everything! He clearly doesn’t work out in a gym like you do and I get the impression that he’s fairly lazy in work; so of course it’s going to stick. But he orders the orange cream donuts and they really are VERY fattening indeed! Plus, I may occasionally slip him a couple of free ones, which partly explains why his ass has got a bit of width to it recently,” he joked. “I’m sure his wife wouldn't thank me!”

“The orange cream one? I don’t think I’ve ever tried that,” Jensen pondered cheekily.

“Coming right up!” Billy smiled with delight, pleased to offload as much as he could to relieve his conscience for all the money he had taken off Rob.

The more Billy’s business brain thought about the town, the more he realised that there were loads of opportunities for extending his menu with things that you couldn’t really get anywhere else: waffles, local ice creams, pancakes. There were so many ways he could expand his operation. He spoke at length about the ideas to Jensen who really was nothing if not encouraging.

“Are you still seeing that Bethany girl behind your friend’s back?” Billy asked disapprovingly. “You know it’s only going to cause a whole load of shit when he finds out?”

“She’s the one who always comes on to me!” Jensen smirked indignantly, thinking himself blameless. “Like I’m going to say no to a free blowjob?”

“She’s bad news!” Billy cautioned. “When it all comes out, there’s going to be a massive fight and her boyfriend is going to do his best to make you break your probation and have you sent off to prison. You know none of those guys from the gym really care about you. Is a quick fuck with Bethany really worth going to prison for?”

“You really don’t like my gym friends, do you?” Jensen laughed.

“Not one bit,” Billy replied honestly. “If I had one wish, it would be for you to walk away from those jerks down at the gym and never look back. It would be the best move you could ever make.”

Jensen sat back a little in his chair, raising his eyebrows at the idea of giving up his whole social group. “You really do give a fuck about me, don’t you?” he asked, a little thrown by how the conversation had turned.

“You know I do,” Billy nodded sincerely. “I just want the best for you.”

A small, playful grin came to Jensen’s face and he sat up again, as if he had had the most marvellous idea. “Tell me to quit the gym and I’ll do it,” he stated with a sudden rush of enthusiasm.

“Just like that?” Billy laughed sceptically.

“Yeah. Just like that!” Jensen nodded. “Go on. Tell me to quit!” he insisted, as if daring or seducing Billy in some way.

“Quit the gym then,” Billy relented. “Cut up your membership card and never see those meat heat buddies of yours again.”

Jensen sat back, looking pleased with himself. “Your wish… is my command!”

With the introduction of Billy’s new expanded menu over the coming weeks, Billy found he was playing host to Jensen more than ever before. It seemed, rather remarkably, that Jensen had been true to his word. He’d not been down to see his old friends at the gym once and there hadn’t been a single complaint about him in town.

“Whatever you’re doing, just keep on doing it,” Jensen’s father smiled, passing over far too much cash for his impromptu evening visit and spotting his son in the corner; his back turned and watching videos on his cell phone while nibbling on things that Billy had brought over.

“Rob, not that I don’t love having Jensen here, but is there anything you could do to help him find some work? He just sort of hangs around all day and I’m a bit worried that all this food is…” He looked across at Jensen just as he scratched his side, lifting his shirt and giving a glimpse of a fleshy, budding love handle.

“People won’t hire him because of how much he’s dicked around in his jobs in the past. It’s his own fault,” Rob grumbled unsympathetically. “And if you’re worried that he’s getting a little chubby - good! Just let him. His mother and I have no intentions of becoming grandparents anytime soon, so the fewer chances he has to get some crazy girl pregnant, the better!”

“But…” Billy tried, looking over again as Jensen started a fresh plate of food, biting in with as much gusto as his father.

Rob went back into his wallet and pulled out a few more notes of cash, stuffing them into Billy’s shirt pocket. “Trust me,” he whispered. “Just let this play out…”

Jensen’s body was changing. It was obvious to anyone that the guy had done steroids in the past to get his body so packed with muscle, but now that his gym had been taken away from him, he seemed to be softening up with quite remarkable speed. Billy had noticed the little love handles starting to sprout and the way his pecs were beginning to look ‘full’ rather than pumped. But there was also the slight puffiness to his face and the softening of his jawline and buttocks to think about too.

“How was that? Do you think it would work on the regular menu?”  Billy asked as he picked up Jensen’s plate.

“Very nice!” Jensen beamed. “I think it worked really well. Maybe just add a little more cream at the side though.”

“More cream?” Billy asked in surprise. Jensen really had inherited his father’s sweet tooth. “Okay, good suggestion,” he nodded unconvinced. “Do you want to try something a little more savoury now?”

“I’d love to,” Jensen nodded, going straight back to playing a game on his phone.

“He’s getting fat, that one,” Fran grumbled as she looked over at Billy bringing back Jensen’s plate. “Look at him! Sat there all day on his cell phone, stuffing his face. It couldn’t happen to a nicer person!” she sneered sarcastically. Billy could tell from her tone that she still couldn’t bear the sight of him, much like the rest of the town. “He’s going to end up just like his idiot father in no time.”

Billy tried to breathe a little deeper and calm himself down. He’d always loved chubby guys and hearing Fran comment on Jensen’s changing appearance, like she was doing, only seemed to be arousing a strange desire within him. “Bacon and cheese waffle for table eight, please” he ordered simply.

Fran looked straight over to Jensen again, sat on table eight. “Fuck me! Not more food? Hasn’t he got somewhere else to be?”

“Bacon and cheese waffle for table eight,” Billy repeated, not wanting to engage in any sort of conversation with her right then.

“Fine!” Fran grumbled, knowing that she and her boss would never agree when it came to Jensen. “I’ll feed the fatso!” she complained, starting to walk back to the kitchen area. “I’ll pile it up with that really greasy cheese; see how the pig likes that!”

Billy closed his eyes and took a second to breathe behind the counter. He was supposed to be helping Jensen turn his life around,and yet, his boner for him seemed impossible to quash of late. The guilt of taking money from Jensen’s dad and now these feelings of arousal; Billy started to feel like the most morally corrupt person on the planet. His eyes popped open as he heard Jensen’s chair scrape along the floor and he watched as the town’s bad boy took himself off to the bathroom; leading with a stout little paunch and displaying his wider, overly padded rear as the door closed behind him. He didn’t know where all this was going, but he suddenly felt like he had lost control of it entirely.

“How would you like a job in the kitchen of my new store?” Billy asked triumphantly. It was the perfect solution. Jensen needed a job, Billy wanted to help him, and it was the best way to keep the guy busy all day without overloading him on fat and calories. Getting him out of town was also bound to help the guy find himself again; away from the scornful faces and shady characters he had mixed with in the past.

“Seriously?” Jensen asked; his face lighting up. “You want to give me a job?”

“It’s yours if you want it?” Billy smiled.

“Yes! Absolutely!” Jensen beamed, suddenly getting up and enveloping Billy in a massive hug that quietly made Billy flush bright red with unwanted lust.

“It’s in Clinton though. You think you could make it there for your shifts? I know you’re not allowed to drive for quite a while still.”

“I’ll get the bus. And I’m sure my dad will help me out every now and then.” He was beaming from ear to ear and pulled Billy in for yet another hug. “I’m so glad I met you!” he smiled, never using his gruffer, defensive tone around Billy anymore.

“Well, I’m very glad I met you too,” Billy nodded, not making eye contact and looking for a way to retreat back to the kitchen before his erection pressed too firmly against his pants.

There was one major flaw in Billy’s plan. Outraged by the idea of Jensen working in the new store, Fran declared that she would have nothing to do with training him up to work in the kitchen. If Billy was going to put everything he’d worked so hard for at risk, she wasn’t going to be a part of it. And so, in the hours after the store closed, Billy had no choice but to invite Jensen in to show him how to prepare all of the deliciously fattening treats he had gorged on for the last few months. But if Billy had found himself aroused by Jensen as he simply sat down at the table to be served, having to stand beside him and see him from all those different angles was even more of a challenge. Perhaps it was because Billy knew Jensen’s father’s shape so well, he could see how Jensen’s body was swelling in an all too similar fashion. The extreme height, the awkward way his pants were starting to fit across his broad butt which had always been so tight and athletic looking up until a few months ago. Under his broad chest, it was undeniable that a firm-looking, rounded pot belly was beginning to push its way out, just like it must have done all those years ago on his father, before that monstrous ball gut had finally taken hold of him.

Jensen was a good student, listening carefully and taking it all in as Billy demonstrated some of the dishes. He completed one and Jensen would greedily offer to consume it while watching the next. Even the sound of his chewing and swallowing was getting to Billy as he tried his hardest to stay focused. Jensen had always been a large man, but it was so incredibly arousing to know that with each bite, the greedy boy was just going to get bigger… and bigger.

“Jensen is really excited about his new job,” Rob smiled the next day as he came in to order even more snacks than usual for all the guys working on a job not too far away. Billy knew that such a spending spree was the guy’s way of showing his appreciation.

“I think he’ll be great at it,” Billy replied. “And, hopefully it will get him up on his feet a little more than he has been recently.”

“Yeah, he’s starting to take after his old man!” Rob chuckled, rubbing his enormous gut as if he was proud of it.

“Well, maybe just a little bit,” Billy conceded, wondering why even this conversation was getting him aroused.

“His mom is worried about how fast he’s piling on the pounds, but I say leave him to it. I remember how exciting it was for me, back in the day, getting a belly for the first time. Jensen is just the same, I’m absolutely positive.”

“Exciting?” Billy asked, captivated by Rob’s use of the word.

“Oh, absolutely!” Rob nodded, passing over his payment card. “I think we’re just wired differently in our family. My father was the same, my two brothers, a few of Jensen’s cousins, his older brother. Let’s just say, he’s been around a lot of extremely fat guys his entire life.It’s not hard to feel a little envious at times.”

Billy had always wondered about his strange fascination in watching his customers slowly pile on a few pounds. He’d made a joke of it to Jensen more than once. But was it possible that someone could appreciate it from the other perspective as well. Was Jensen’s father right? Was gaining weight something that Jensen actively… enjoyed? 

Watching from a distance, Billy studied Jensen keenly in a way that he hadn’t allowed himself to in the past. He’d never noticed how often the guy’s hand reached down to rub his little tummy, or the way his face only seemed to get more and more excited with each item he ate. It also appeared, judging by the heavy sighing and strained pauses that came later on, that Jensen was in some way forcing himself to eat; as if the act of eating was no longer about the enjoyment of the taste, but a task that had to be completed at all costs.

“It looks like we’ve already got a good bunch of regulars,” Billy smiled after their first two weeks in the new store. “I think we’re a hit!” he declared, looking at the sales for the week whilst Jensen boxed up the last few items left over from the day. “Take those home with you,” Billy pointed at the leftover raspberry cream donuts which had not sold well all week. “They obviously don’t like them so much here. I’m taking them off the menu.”

Jensen’s piggish eyes lit up and he immediately grabbed one to take a large bite, nodding his head in appreciation, like he hadn’t eaten all day long. In truth, Billy had allowed him to consume as much as he wanted all day long; remembering the additional large bundle of notes the guy’s father had given him not so long ago. He’d ordered Jensen an extra-large work shirt with the company logo on, but already it was looking overly stretched across the almost constantly bloated stomach.

“Did you notice that blonde girl came in twice today? You know, the one I said was checking you out yesterday,” Billy teased playfully. She;d seemed like a nice girl: pleasant, well spoken and together; exactly the sort of girl Jensen needed. “I think she has a bit of a crush on you…”

Jensen shook his head. “No chance!” he chuckled between bites. “I have other priorities at the moment.” With that, he pushed the remainder of his donut into his mouth and prepared the next one ready, while his other hand gently rubbed his stomach, as if soothing it. 

“Oh yeah?” Billy asked curiously. “And what priorities are these?”

There were a few moments of quiet as Jensen chewed and swallowed the oversized piece that he had put into his mouth. “I’m just focusing on improving myself at the moment,” he answered.

“Does that include giving yourself a sixty-five inch gut like your dad?” Billy asked, his eyes popping open with shock the second the words left his mouth. For the briefest moment, his tongue had simply run away with itself.

Jensen simply smirked and looked across at Billy as if he was impressed by the comment. “What do you expect when your boss insists that you eat the leftovers every night after work?”

“I hardly insisted…” Billy chuckled, enjoying the playful way he and Jensen had become accustomed to speaking to each other.

“You just told me to finish all the donuts or I’m fired!” Jensen teased, pushing the next one, almost whole, into his mouth.

“You’re ridiculous!” Billy laughed, watching the guy’s puffed up and bulging cheeks and he tried to chew the massive quantity of donut. “All right then!” he chuckled. “If that’s how you want to play it… those chocolate brownies need to go as well tonight. Eat them up, or you’re fired,” he joked.

Jensen grabbed the leftovers as well as the large carton of whole milk they had been using that day, taking a long long swig to stop his mouth from getting dry. Then he burped, loud and long, like a man more than double his size. “No worries, boss!” he declared; enjoying their game. “I’ll have them all cleared away within the next five minutes!”

Over the coming weeks, Billy found that he had never threatened to fire an employee more than he had with Billy. It was their own private code; their way of playing. Billy would come over at the end of the shift to help close up and then he’d watch as Jensen stuffed himself as if his job really did depend on it. But the results of their little game? Well, those were truly the best part of all. Billy’s butt had ballooned out, along with his thighs, and he often arrived to work looking a little underdressed in sweatpants that were more accommodating to his developing shape. Some might have said he was less striking without that strong jawline, but Billy simply adored the way his employee was getting such a double chin and puffier, rounder cheeks on his face. The outrageous muscular definition gained from years at the gym had slowly been masked by a creeping layer of fat, settling all over Jensen’s body. As that layer thickened, it was increasingly difficult to tell that the guy had ever been anything but doughy. Billy could see the blubber ripple in his love handles as he trotted about, and the depth of Jensen’s belly button was a constant presence, visible through the way his undersized and poorly shaped shirts fitted across his torso.

“How would you feel about staying in the little apartment above the store here?” Billy asked the large, remarkably altered man that stood before him a few months later. “It would save you having to get a bus here, or dragging your dad out to pick you up. You’d be doing me a favour, having someone here at night. I wouldn’t charge you.”

“Seriously?” Jensen asked in disbelief. “You’d just let me just have it?”

“Sure,” Billy smiled, finding a true joy came to him whenever he spoiled Jensen in any way that he could. “I think it would be good for you.”

“My own place…” Jensen murmured, picturing it in his head. It had been just over eighteen months since he’d been on the edge of going to prison, and now here he was, holding down a steady job and about to have his own place. “You are like my guardian angel,” he smiled.

“I’m glad you think so,” Billy chuckled, feeling suddenly embarrassed by Jensen’s sincerity. “Now, there are a load of cream cakes over there that I can’t refrigerate tonight. Get them down… or you’re fired,” he teased.

 “We’re not used to seeing you in our store these days,” Rob smiled a few weeks later, surprised to witness Billy behind the counter and not in his new store with Jensen. “I’m used to the ever delightful Fran serving me these days, and she’s not so generous with the freebies,” he whispered so that the grumpy woman wouldn’t hear him.

“Oh, well, we’ll have to sort that out!” Billy beamed, already thinking what he should give to Jensen’s oversized father. “Are you enjoying the peace and quiet now that Jensen’s moved out?”

“Very much so!” Rob nodded; his piggy eyes watching keenly as Billy picked out his complimentary offerings. “Joyce and I finally have the house to ourselves again for the first time in thirty years! It’s like we’re newlyweds again! She’s giving me all her attention like she never could once the boys were born. I’ve gained twenty-five pounds in two months!” he laughed at himself, patting his enormous gut.

“Lucky you!” Billy grinned, deciding to give the man two free extra helpings instead. “I’m sure you’re having the time of your life.”

“After all Jensen’s put us through over the years, I never thought we’d get to this point where we could just sit back and relax like this. And I know Jensen is having just as much fun being away from us.”

Billy smiled and couldn’t help but agree with Rob. Judging by how round Jensen’s stomach had been getting in the last couple of weeks, Jensen was enjoying himself immensely.

It was gone midnight when the alert came on to Billy’s cell phone. Something had tripped the alarm in Jensen’s store and a message had automatically been sent to him. He got up and tried to call his live-in tenant to investigate whether it was the system playing up again, but when there was no answer and Billy knew he’d have to drive over to see for himself.

Pulling up, Billy could see the lights still on in Jensen’s apartment and he tutted to himself that the guy hadn’t answered his phone and saved Billy the trouble of having to come over here so late at night. The shutters were down on the store and there was no obvious sign that anyone had broken in, so Billy simply rolled up the shutters and opened the door to head in and reset the system. He punched in a couple of numbers and the software was reset. The clunky old thing needed changing if it was going to keep playing up like this, Billy grumbled to himself. But as Billy looked around, he saw that the door to the hallway leading upstairs, the one that was usually locked, had been left open, triggering the alarm. Had Jensen come down and carelessly set off the alarm himself?

“Jensen?” Billy called up the stairs, seeing that the lights were on and, as he got closer, the door to the apartment upstairs was wide open. “Is everything all right?”

Billy hadn’t been up here since he’d handed the space over to Jensen, and it surprised him how awkward he felt walking in. The television was on, and as Billy turned the corner, he saw the shape of Jensen sat up in a kitchen chair with his back to Billy. “There you are!” Billy sighed in relief. “I’m sorry to pop in, it’s just the alarm system…”

Billy stopped talking the moment his eyes took in the vision of Jensen before him: completely naked, the man sat, tied to the chair with leather straps. A kinky gag was resting between his teeth to prevent him from speaking and, even more bizarrely, a plastic pig snout was resting over his nose. Without his clothes on, the evidence of how much weight Jensen had gained was all too clear. Billy had no idea that his nipples had grown so pointed, nor that his fat belly could cover up his crotch as much as it was doing now; slowly becoming every bit of the ball gut his father had. People might have been surprised to learn that Jensen was well over four hundred pounds, but it really was obvious once all those concealing clothes were stripped from him. He was so tall, so broad and large-chested, yet he had still amassed the most shocking of bellies.

Jensen’s eyes were wide with alarm at having been caught as he was right now. Billy stuttered, wondering what to say, when his composure faltered and the urge to laugh became all too much for him, “Jensen Parry, you bad boy!” he teased. “Just what have you been up to now?”

As Billy went to unclip the gag, he noticed a tattoo on Jensen’s shoulder; that of a pink, round and plump pig. Jensen had many tattoos on his body, but this one had to be new, for Billy had never seen it on any of the shirtless gym selfies Jensen used to post. Billy was sensing a theme…

“I’m so sorry!” Jensen gasped the moment his gag was off. “I was with a girl and she… well, she thought she was being funny and kinky, leaving me here like this. I knew the moment I heard her open the wrong door downstairs that she was going to set off the alarm.”

Still strapped by his ankles, knees and wrists to the chair, Billy didn’t rush to remove the pig snout. It was far too amusing and entertaining seeing Jensen trying to explain himself whilst wearing it. “She sounds charming!” Billy chuckled, seeing the predicament Jensen had been left in. “Have you known her long?” he asked, enjoying seeing Jensen squirm as he tried to engage in simple chit chat, dressed, or rather, undressed, as he was.

“I met her on an app,” Jensen mumbled, trying to gently shake the straps on his wrists. “We’ve only met up a couple of times. She’s kinda into bondage,” he explained sheepishly.

“That’s not all you’ve been up to!” Billy grinned, looking around the space surrounding Jensen. Wrappers and soda cans were discarded on the floor, while a gallon of full fat milk sat, half-finished on the table, next to a strange looking funnel. He bent down and picked up Jensen’s t-shirt, surprised by the weight of it, given how much material was becoming necessary to cover the man’s swollen form.

Jensen blushed. “It was nothing,” he mumbled, clearly embarrassed. “She wasn’t very good at it anyway.”

“Is there a key for the straps?” Billy asked, deciding that Jensen had suffered enough.

“Over there, on the counter,” Jensen motioned with his head. 

Billy collected the small key, wondering how on earth the girl had ever expected Jensen to free himself without help. As he bent down to unlock the ankle lock, he tried wedging the key in to find that it wouldn’t even sit properly inside. And, upon further inspection, the same was true of the other side. “You’ve busted it when you tried to free yourself,” he sighed, looking up and suddenly catching an eyeful of Jensen’s erection, visible as Billy crouched down; the added ropes around the man’s knees preventing him from hiding anything.

“Sorry!” Jensen shot, mortified that Billy had seen his boner. “I just wasn’t expecting you to… I’m not…” he faltered. “Try the wrist straps!” he finally insisted, in an attempt to change the subject altogether.

Billy half-heartedly tried to unlock the wrists, before he declared that the key simply wasn’t going to work. “I think you might be stuck like this for a while,” he teased.

“You’re enjoying this!” Jensen complained, starting to realise that his saviour wasn’t about to free him anytime soon.

“And you’re not?” Billy chuckled, stepping back and deciding to crouch down with his knees outstretched, back at a level where he could see Jensen’s hardness again. He heard the guy squirm, but under such scrutiny, it was obvious that the man’s dick was only filling with more and more blood. “So, what was the deal? She came over and indulged her bondage kink, and in return, you got her to feed you all this stuff?” Billy asked, picking up a selection of empty wrappers that littered the floor.

Seeming to accept his situation more, Jensen nodded.

Billy smirked, pleased that he had guessed correctly first time. He really did know Jensen inside and out by now. Maybe even enough to push their invisible boundaries just a little more…  “But, you said she wasn’t very good at it. So, I’m guessing you’re still hungry?” he smiled, finding a few still wrapped Twinkies on the floor and starting to get one of them out.

Jensen swallowed back saliva and he nodded with his greedy eyes fixed on the sugary snack. Without prompting, he opened his mouth once Billy’s hand drew nearer. As Billy sat the edge of the Twinkie on the guy’s tongue, he noticed that Jensen wasn’t biting into it. He pushed it in a little further, but still the guy left his mouth wide open. Finally with the tips of his fingers, Billy crammed the entire thing in until Jensen’s mouth was completely filled and he began chewing at last. Then he moaned, as deeply and passionately as if they were having sex; gazing up into Billy’s eyes.

“Careful, buddy!” Billy chuckled, starting to sense that something deeply sexual was happening between himself and Jensen now. “If you keep eating like that, you’re going to get absolutely enormous.”

Jensen chewed faster and swallowed. “That’s exactly what I want to happen,” he moaned. His gluttonous eyes looked down at the next Twinkie in Billy’s hand, but seeing that it wasn’t so forthcoming, he carried on explaining himself. “Do you know how much it fucks you over when you grow up knowing that all you really want in life is to become a gigantic ball of lard? I tried so hard to fight it. I wanted to find my thrills in other ways: stealing cars, getting into fights and not giving a shit. I got involved with the wrong crowds and I pushed myself to get massive in the gym instead, but…”

Billy grinned wickedly, feeling more aroused than he had ever been in his life. “But, you’re just a fat pig!” he finished with a smirk, prodding a finger into the shelf of belly fat that had formed under Jensen’s broad and increasingly fleshy chest.

Jensen moaned louder than ever as his fat was pressed and poked. “Oh, I want to be!” he insisted. “I want to be taken and fattened. I want to be someone’s gigantic, greedy pig!” He looked into Billy’s eyes again, as if searching for that connection he knew they both shared. “I wanted it to be you, so badly!” he insisted once more. “I wanted you to order me to stop going to the gym and stuff me full of all your most fattening treats. I wanted you to get hard as you watched my body transform for you; as you saw me grow fat and soft.”

“Trust me, that’s definitely been happening,” Billy grunted as he tried to adjust the thick boner that had swollen down one side of his pants. His body tingled with energy, his brain lighting up with arousal. It seemed to build into a crescendo, until his hands gently ripped open the next Twinkie and stuffed it into Jensen’s mouth whole. With one hand, he steadied the back of Jensen’s head, and with the other, he pressed it over the guy’s mouth, not allowing a single crumb to escape as he chewed. “Come on then, Piggy!” he breathed, giving himself over entirely to the lust inside of him. “Let’s do it! Let’s turn you into the fattest pig out there!” 

When Jensen had swallowed enough of the large Twibkie in his mouth, Billy took his hand down to rub the amazing, sweaty gut that was taking over Jensen’s form. It had always looked so firm and packed, but up close like this, it was clear how blubbery and lardy it was beneath the skin. He grabbed at it, finding that it rolled easily into a pinchable handful and used his grip to gently rock the entire mass of fat. Then, out of curiosity, he reached under Jenen’s fat gut and grabbed at the exposed hardness between his enormous thighs. It was so hard and only started to pulse further as Billy began stroking it. “Oh, yes!” Jensen encouraged him. “Yes!”

Billy grabbed at the key again and forced it into the locks on Jensen’s wrists. With enough brute force, the click finally came and they released. With their freedom, Jensen’s fascinated hands immediately began rubbing Billy’s hardness over the material of his pants as Billy leaned over him, untying the ropes across Jensen’s knees. Once they were free, Jensen stood and the legs of the chair were lifted easily from the shackles, though the leather straps remained wrapped loosely around the fat man’s ankles. He pulled off the little pig snout and threw it onto the floor.

“I love you,” Jensen whispered passionately after the pair of them fell into their first kiss. “I’ve loved you since the first night we met. I just knew that you were the most special person I would ever meet in my life. I just never dreamed that I could be good enough for you.”

Billy shook his head in sadness at hearing that Jensen saw himself as being unworthy. “I love you too,” he shot back, realising that he had been feeling this way for quite some time. “I just want to give you everything I possibly can. The best of everything!”

Jensen sighed in happiness. “Make me enormous then!” he whispered. “Don’t stop until I’m completely unrecognisable! Until I’m nothing but a big, fat pig!”

The pair fell into another, even more passionate kiss, and gently slid backwards into the bedroom area as Billy felt his clothes being pulled off him. He wondered what people would think once they knew he was with Jensen Parry, the bad boy that they had once so despised. 

But Jensen hadn’t been a bad boy in quite some time now. Quietly, and at his own pace, he’d been transforming himself into what he’d really needed to be all along: the biggest, fattest pig in town. Now Jensen wouldn’t have to make that journey alone anymore. For, as they both came that night, Billy knew that he was going to be there for every delicious, blubbery step of the way.

[nephilim-tears]

Steve Harrington x Reader x Robin Buckley

Warnings: F! Reader, fxfxm sexual relations, Billy slander, Word count:3k. ↳ Slice of life + Horror :: Pack your things we’re going to summer camp.  Browse my catalog? You are responsible for the content you consume, as always read with care.

The warm summer breeze followed the children from Hawkins to the edge of a forgotten town bordering nowhere where Camp Cold Lake sits waiting patiently. Her newly polished floorboards squeak with excitement anxious to be scuffed up by fifty at most snotty-nosed high school brats. Time after time, year after year, they would come here as strangers and leave as something a little more than that. A ritual, without fail, bonded them together by joy, fear, and secrets. 

Surrounded by acres of evergreen pine trees that stretched on for miles, a single file line of three caterpillar yellow school buses slugged to a stop emitting an exhausted sigh delivering the children to their final destination.

Fellow camp counselor Steve Harrington stool tall and proud brushing clean his white polo shirt tucked into his bright red pants that stopped midthighs. One at a time, clipboard in hand, he diligently took a headcount of the gaggle of children checking them off his list. 

The flow abruptly stopped when Steve placed his hand out in front of a mop of curly hair. The boy was half of Steve’s size prompting him to hunch over saying something inaudible to the rest of the counselors. From mere feet away, you watched Steve’s stern face twist into an annoyed expression as the kid sassed him and rolled his eyes heading for the dining hall.

“That one’s Dustin,” Robin Buckley, colleague camp counselor and self-proclaimed extraordinaire whispered hoovering over your shoulders. “He and Steve go way back.” She tucked her identical clipboard under her armpits and proceed to fix the belt of her uncomfortably large red shorts that hang on her slender frame. She opted for the male uniform bottoms but even the smallest available size was too big, so she’d routinely seal Steve’s belts to keep them up. 

You chuckled at her wiggling around, gesturing to your skirt that was almost as short as your cheerleading uniform, “I didn’t know that was an option for us, otherwise I would have gone for the shorts too.” 

Her sandy brown hair swiftly swept her shoulder when she turned in your direction, “No!” 

You quirked a brow up at her eagerness. Sensing the awkward atmosphere created mostly by her, she cleared her throat and began again, “Uh, ahem, I mean no. You look great. You look great in your skirt. Steve likes it—Harrington’s not all that but if you care, which it seems like you do, he likes it.” 

If anyone knows what Steve likes, it’d be the woman he calms he’d platonically die for. Only having met them two days prior, you've grown quite fond of the disaster brunets from Hawkins, a town neighboring yours—which was even smaller, even sleepier by comparison. 

Well, that was the case until a peculiar and dreadful incident prompted your town’s version of its satanic panic. A dead girl with her eyes gorged out, strung from the trees in a local park tends to ruin the quietest of reputations. 

“...right.” You decided to spare her from the heat of the embarrassment that clung around her neck, suffocating her like an ugly, itchy, wool sweater in the scorching summer's temperature. 

“Tommy Sheperd,” you held your clipboard up, “Is missing.” 

Robin opened her mouth to say something but Steve cut her off, “I got off the phone earlier with his parents, they pulled him last minute and I didn’t get the chance to update the roster.” While you were all equally footed, Steve took initiative and fell into the leadership position effortlessly. 

Even though the job was an unpaid community service requirement to graduate, Steve genuinely enjoyed his role serving as the middleman communicating directly with parents and camp directors and later relaying the information. It made pretty boy Harrington well-liked in the circle of ten senior counselors.  

 “Sorry for the trouble,” he backed away toward camp, “And nice skirt.” He threw a wink in your direction, earning an involuntary smile, it make the apples of your cheeks hurt. 

“Told you so,” Robin whispered following Steve but not before she playfully tugged the bottom of your red pleated skirt. 

For a moment, you stood alone watching her till she was a tiny figure disappearing in the sea of people. The waves of midday sunshine that washed the camp in a hazy glow made her hair soft hair look especially shiny. 

SNAP went what must have been a twig jerked you from the trance. Somewhere behind the thickening of trees, between the sound of cold dew settling on their leaves, was it murmuring you heard? What you did not hear, was it hissing your name. 

The sound stopped as soon as it began. The ground squished beneath your feet, it’s only a matter of time before the whites of your sneakers, socks, and shirts get soiled if you kept looking. 

Deciding it was probably an animal native to the territory, you swatted a bug crawling up the side of your ankle socks and trailed after the others towards camp.

On any given day, walking into the dining hall was like walking into a cloud puffed with the smell of sunscreen, chlorine, play dough, and bug spray. Two whole weeks passed, three more to go. Marker in hand, you drew an x on the passing days on the calendar and read over today’s schedule.  

Everyone was gearing up for an annual game of Capture the Flag, everyone except the Hawkins bunch. They huddled together at the head of a long table, trading tall tales of monsters and Russians infiltrating their town. In a manner, only children are privy to, you admired their little faces as they lit up with excitement and passion. 

All except Dustin, he slumped over a bowl of oatmeal sludge stirring the contents around with a silver spoon. Steve waved you over with a smile, and a string of hello’s and hi's greeted you as you made a beeline for their table. 

“Goofmourningh” Steve mumbled, popping another marshmallow into his mouth. 

Steve isn’t a morning person but if all his mornings began with that smile you gave him, he might have to reconsider his stance. 

Without a second thought, he dusted a stay eyelash that lingered on your cheek. A gesture that felt far too intimate to bestow upon someone he’s only known for a few weeks. He might have pushed a boundary however, you didn’t seem to mind, at least he didn’t kiss your forehead like he initially wanted to. That would have surely freaked you out. 

“Hey! Stop. We won’t have any left for the campfire if you keep eating it all.” Robin snatched the bag from him and resumed her seating position—criss-cross on the chair picking, at a loose thread of her pajamas. 

Motioning to Mike’s name tag, you asked, “Wheeler huh? Any relation to Nancy?” 

Mike, not spearing you a glace deadpanned, “When I’m in public, no.” 

Cutting through the crowd’s laughter, Dustin groaned loudly, “What am I eating, huh? Shapes? Texture? Where’s the flavooor, people? Get this shit out of my face!” He dramatically pushed the oatmeal away from him. 

“Language!” Steve snapped. 

You gagged at the sludge and pitted the boy, “Alright, everyone who wants something that isn’t..that, follow me to the kitchen. How do you like your tea, Dustin?” 

“Uh, in a cup?” As he got up to follow you, Steve lightly smacked the back of his head in response. 

A fiery redhead, Dustin, and Robin all made their way to the kitchen with you. 

“That one is gonna try to get you to feed her s’mores for breakfast!” Steve shouted through his megaphone pointing at Max, “Do not acquiesce under any circumstances. I repeat, do not acquiesce under any—” His mouth hung open, offended before he could finish the sentence, Max flipped him off. 

Perched at the top of the kitchen counter, sat a shirtless man waiting for the toaster to chime. Billy Hargrove, you’ve seen him around, mostly with his shirt off too. Typically he had an excuse, he’s one of the counselors stationed by the pool. When he isn’t there, he’s patrolling near the lake often with a cigarette hanging between his lips. 

“Top of the mornin’ to ya, sweetheart.” 

“We haven’t officially met, but I’ve seen you at the seminar,” you stuck your hand out waiting for him to cordially shake it. 

“Yeah, I’ve seen you at the seminars too. It’s hard to miss someone so…delicious.” He hops down from the counter, eyes trailing down your body, closing the distance between you. 

Instinctively you withdrew your hand and backed up a few meters till you bumped into Robin standing behind you. Almost as tall as him, she firmly positioned herself between you and Billy, “Beat it creep! She’s not interested.” 

The ping of the toaster startled everyone in the room and Billy scoffed. He grabbed his pop tart, ruffled Max’s hair then exited the kitchen. 

 “You’ve met that guy before?” you asked, turning your attention to her.

Max’s cheeks reddened to the shade of her hair with embarrassment. Swiping a box of crackers, she tried to play it cool,  “Well, he’s my brother so I’ve met him at home a few times.” 

 “So! Tea?!” Dustin clasped his hands together loud enough to diffuse the tension in the room.

“Can’t you guys at least give us a hint?!” Dustin flailed his arms around trying to cause a scene on purpose. 

“No! It has to be a fair game. Now go with your team and capture some flags or whatever you’re supposed to do.” you dismissed him. 

“But you’re our friends” he resorted to what had to be the whinest voice you’ve heard from him thus far. “What about what Gandhi said, huh? ‘Thou shall not betray thy friends.’” His lisp slipped over the s of friends. 

Lucas, growing tired of his shenanigans decided to cut in, “He did not say—”

“Gandhi said something like that.” Dustin defended a stance you’re certain he didn’t believe.

“No.” Lucas, again. 

“He wasn’t the one that said ‘Thou shall not—’” 

“No!” 

“For the record, I prefer the term overlords, not friends.” Robin grabbed Dustin by his shoulder spinning him in the opposite direction, giving him a little shove. 

His ploy to stall till the game was over was unsuccessful, reluctantly, Dustin let Lucas drag him into the darkened wood sporting their arts and crafts red and blue shirts respectively. 

Orange and lilacs swirled overhead the evening sun that hung low dipping beyond the trees. Except for the cook or the nurse, you stood alone with Robin in a nearly deserted camp letting the crisp air nip at your skin. 

The eerie silence was quick to reclaim what was once a spirited camp meer minutes ago. You wondered if it’ll be like this when everyone leaves at the end of summer. It felt odd.  You’d all grow up and move on as if you’ve never been here at all. The traces of your existence lost and forgotten by time itself; meanwhile, Camp Cold Lake will always be here, waiting. A constant living relic ripped from your collective memories, existing with or without you. 

Over the glowing horizon, a counselor whistles somewhere in the distance signaling the capture of the first flag.  “You should go get your jacket then come join us,” Robin broke the silence heading towards the whistle, “I think you left it in the arts and crafts cabin.” 

By your jacket, she meant Steve’s. The varsity jacket that draped loosely on your frame and always smelt of marshmallows. He loaned it to her once and later, she loaned it to you. Between the two of you, it won't make its way back into Steve’s closet. 

You entered the cabin, heart still light on the memory. The room was a mess, clearly, the kids had vacated in a hurry. Scraps of paper, discarded paint brushes, and half-eaten grilled cheese sandwiches occupied every flat, sticky surface. 

The idea of leaving the mess for someone to find flickers and fades in your mind. However,  no one else was here and if you let the mess fester, it’ll attract unwanted visitors from all sectors of the food chain. Besides game night would go on just fine without you, they had enough counselors on duty. 

As you sank floor level to retrieve a stay paint brush a loud CLANK caught you off guard. 

Swiftly, you whipped around to face the sound. The broom closet. 

An avalanche of frost plunges into the room; the feeling of being watched made the hairs on the back of your neck stand attentive. Rattled to the bone, cautiously, you grabbed the nearest lethal object in your immediate vicinity—a baseball bat painted pink. Upon approaching the closet, you froze. There it was again. The murmuring, the hissing from a few weeks ago. 

You ignored the little voice in your dizzy head saying to run and bit back the scream building in the back of your cotton-dry throat. The floorboards squeak in protest under your sneakers and your breath hitches when you swing the door wide open, ready for a confrontation. 

In the heat of the moment, you hadn’t even processed the high-pitched squeal you emitted. 

Consumed by adrenaline you flinched as the cold, murky gunk touched your exposed skin. Motionless, you stood there glaring at the bucket that came tumbling from the ceiling leaving you submerged headfirst in dirt—everything from your hair, shirt, and sneakers, soiled. 

Another THUD followed by nails on wood—scratching interrupted any flow of tranquility or relief that should have followed. 

The sound wasn’t coming from in the closet but from behind it. Outside. The person responsible for this was still lurking and laughing at your expense. Righteous anger and boiling hot fury melted the fear. Pink baseball bat in hand you rushed out the door, just in time to see the shrubs shiver past whoever ran into the woods. 

Those damn pranksters were in trouble. 

“Kids,” You scoff covered in dirt from head to toe. 

You could decide whether you wanted to retaliate or abuse your role and dispense punishment, or both, after a shower.

Thirty minutes later, free of dirt and grime, you hugged the fluffy white towel closer to your body. “I hate this job” you mumbled, aggressively rubbing the lotion on your legs. 

“But I love watching you do it,” Robin responded, her presence catching you off guard. Although it shouldn't, it’s her cabin too. And from time to time, Steve had a habit of barging in unannounced as well. Claiming the bathroom was cleaner and smelt better than the one he shared with the boys, he’d often leave smelling like your vanilla shampoo. 

“I heard you scream and I came to investigate the commotion.” She stood tall in the room, cocky as ever. 

“Ok, first of all. I did not screa—”

“You did too! Everyone heard you. What’s with the, uh?” She motioned to the bat propped against the wall. 

“I…I just had a long day, ok? Since you’re here, can you gimme a hand?” You shoved the lotion bottle in her face. 

She hesitated to take it, swallowing hard as she watched you turn your back towards her and loosen your grip on the towel, exposing more skin when it dipped lower making room for her to cover with lotion. At some point she must have stopped breathing, she engrossed herself,  memorizing every freckle, every beauty spot on your back. It’s a sign of the times the second her hands—shivering, soft and dainty—touched your skin. Her slender finger traced your spine and stopped midway, neither of you dared to move a muscle. 

You lift your head to meet her eyes welling up with tears, “We can’t do this,” she whispered “I never—This is wrong.  I could get you in a lot of trouble if anyone finds out. I’m probably the last person on Earth you’d hook up with.” 

Reaching around to face her, you lay your flat palm against her cheek, she leaned into it. “You’re ok Robin. You didn’t do anything I didn’t already want. Your secret’s safe with me.” 

Knowing she would never make the first move, you seized the moment standing on your tippy toes and pressed your lips into her cherry-red pout. She moans at the contact, pulling your body flush against hers. Emboldened, she lets her hands roam from your hips to the curved slope of your ass with confidence. 

You pulled back just in time to see the fear leave her eyes, a new softness takes its place. “For the record, you’re like the fifth person on Earth I’d hook up with.” 

Robin scrunched her eyebrows, the cogs in her brain worked overtime to process the situation. 

“Joke. That’s a joke, Robin. You’re supposed to laugh.” 

And laughed she did—husky and melodic, it sounded like music to your ears. Shrugging she added,  “Honestly, I would have been ok with being in the top five.” 

Before you had a chance to respond, in barges pretty boy Harrington with his glorious chestnut hair tousling in the wind. His eyes are the size of saucers observing your reaction. Still wrapped in your towel pressed against Robin who had her hands firmly on your ass, “Well don’t stop on my account,” he grinned. 

Despite your compromising position, ever so slightly, you swooned at the sight of him. Robin exaggerated a sigh, “He’s not all that y’know.” 

“Can I watch?” Steve asks, enthusiasm bubbling under his best doe eye impression, “I promise you won’t even know I’m here.”

“That’s creepy even by your standards Harrington. If you want to stay you gotta make yourself useful.” You smirked, looking over at Robin to confirm she was onboard. 

Rolling her eyes, she beckoned Steve closer, “One rule: Touch me and you’re a dead man Harrington.” 

Steve wasted no time discarding his sneakers and shirt. He slots himself behind you nibbling under your ear, “We’ll take good care of you don’t worry, you’re our girl now.” He shared a mischievous look with Robin. 

His hands travel to your chest pinching the buds of your hardened nipples under the fabric. 

The towel drops to the floor leaving you bare in front of them. You leaned back, Steve welcomed your weight, supporting you with one arm around your waist holding you up, “I’ve been meaning to tell you— you keep me up at night. So perfect,” he whispers. Robin got down on her knees and hiked your leg over her shoulder, kissing the soft flesh up your inner thigh, “I bet you taste just as good too.” 

Evidence of your anticipation dripped down your thigh, Robin dragged her eager tongue and devoured your wetness, delighted she hummed at the taste. Steve moaned at the sight and began to grind his hardened cock against your ass.

Slowly letting his hand drop from your nipple down to your pussy, he circled your clit with his index finger, Robin immediately followed his lead. The juxtaposition of hands grabbing at your body sent shivers down your spine—Steve’s rough and large, Robin’s delicate and tiny by comparison. Both of their fingers pull you apart in different directions causing your toes to coil in reflex. 

Nothing but the sound of your excited squeals and wetness echoed off the walls. Disregarding the burning embers welling under your skin, you melt into the comfort and safety of their hands. For a split second, it was just the three of you in the wreckage of the world.

Robin was the first to break the streak of silence, “You owe me five bucks, Harrington.” she declared proudly pinching your clit. 

“No no she’s into me too, so you owe me,” Steve responded, pumping two fingers in and out of your pussy. His rhythm is as gentle and steady as his voice.

With the very last of your cohesiveness you muttered, “Are you guys really having this conversation now?” 

The duo stopped abruptly as a soft BUMP against the cabin made them both turn their attention to the door; thus ending the sweet moment between the three of you. 

Steve steadied you on both legs and passed you the shirt he had discarded moments earlier. Robin stood by your side and tilted her head, curiosity getting the better of her. 

WHACK!

WHACK!

SNAP!

Pandemonium erupted as the door forcefully flew open and slammed against the wall, splinters of wood scattering on the ground. 

Billy. 

His billy-shaped shadow splatted across the walls, swallowing up the room in its entirety. Robin gagged as Billy’s skin began to change and the scent of rotten eggs reached her nostrils. Everyone stared motionless in horror as his face twisted and his body began to transform. Bumps the size of coins surfaced on his skin. His usual pale complexion darkened purple camouflaging him against the velvet indigo skyline bidding you goodbye.

Billy leaned back, his spine cracked and popped as he screeched in agony.  What looked like a tail cut through the air in swift fluid motions. 

His face stretched, his hair dissolved into his skull, and his eyes sank into his elongated reptilian head. A long pink ropy tongue flickered across countless jagged rows of teeth, whipping side to side. 

He flexed his claws—three on each hand and a deep rumble came from the base of his throat. The semi-translucent nictitating membrane darted over his wet slit eyes that remained fixated on you as he snapped his jaw in your direction.

Steve maneuvered himself between you and Billy, “What the fuck.”

#steve harrington #robin buckley #stranger things #Steve Harrington x reader x Robin Buckley #Steve x reader x Robin #steve harrington x reader #robin buckley x reader #steve harrington imagine #robin buckley imagine #reader insert

[m7nson]

Hottie hot hot ❥ Joseph Quinn

˙❥˙ your new creative writing professor is sure a hottie

TW - food, cooking, and eating

✎masterlist

An- gender neutral but I made the reader shocked that he's British I apologize-

Not edited

"Hi is this y/n?" You gave a confused face, "yes this is she?" "Hi I'm calling to inform you that you need to retake your creative writing elective again." Your eyes widen. "May I ask why?"

"Everyone who had professor' Carlton has to retake their course, and I'm sure you've heard the scandal about him having sexual intercourse with his students."

You didn't actually think it was true. You would believe it if he was hot; but he was fifty five year old man. He looked like the principal from 'Billy Madison'.

"And because of that, we don't know who had activities with him to pass and who didn't." You signed "well I'm not to happy about this but thank you for calling."

"You can either, retake it and get the credit. Or you can take another course..." You did enjoy this class, and it was quite easy for you. "Yes I'll retake it then," "alrighty, the classes will be just like last year but new professor." You nodded "thank you so much."

"I hope you have a great day, and I apologize for this inconvenience." You nodded "you too, thank you again." You hung up the phone frustrated. Shit, now I have to go through that all over again; you groaned.

✎

"Did you hear about your new creative writing teacher?" Your roommate, Olive said sitting on the other side of your bed closing you laptop. "Other than that It's not professor' Carlton; no."

"Well.." they started as they laying down on their elbow "I heard he's a hottie hot hot." You chuckled "he's that hot eh?" You asked raising your eyebrows.

"I personally haven't seen him.. but I've heard some things." They said smirking, you rolled your eyes. "What have you 'heard'?" She sighed getting up. "Well, first off he's British.." your eyes widen slightly "really?"

They laughed "see! Your so lucky you have a hot creative writing teacher, while I'm stuck with grandma; Mrs. Card." You laughed "just because he's British doesn't automatically make him attractive."

"That's true, but people have been saying he's hot, so I don't think he's a creepy uncle like profess' Carlton." You sighed "of course they hired a hot professor after what happened with that old creep.."

They gave a gross face, "I'll admit that is kinda weird." You nodded, as your attention turned back to your closed laptop. "Don't you have class tomorrow?" You shook your head.

"In two days, don't worry as soon as I see I'm I'll tell you how much of a hottie hot hot he is." You said putting your hands on her shoulder. "Your lucky I wasn't doing anything important."

You said putting your laptop in your nightstand while getting up. "That's why I closed it!" They said walking out as you followed them. "Your cooking tonight right?" They said throwing themselves on the couch.

"Yeah I'll cook, but your cleaning."

✎

Never thought I would have to come back into this room, never thought I would be going down this cracked sidewalk again. Yet here I am, walking into professor' Carlton room; or well, whoever the new 'hottie' is.

You looked at your phone '2:49' sighing deciding on silencing it, of course your ten minutes early. Decided to see if the door was open, you doubted it but good try. Knocking... No answer. Trying the knob, and I was right, it's locked. This isn't your first time being early either remembering last year how you were half an hour early and sat on this dirty concrete.

Things just don't change. You sat down on the step placing your bookbag on your lap. At least it's only ten minutes and not twenty-five. Scrolling on your phone trying to by time, you didn't notice someone walking up onto the steps.

Until you noticed almond slacks in the corner of your eyes. Looking up and, seeing a— woe, holy shit this guy is so fine. Quickly getting up and wiping down your butt, just in case.

"I don't think anyone was gonna be earlier than me.." he started as you didn't realize his accent "Oh, yeah I didn't realize how early I was until I got here.. the door locked so I'm just waiting for the.. new professor..." You started slightly rambling.

"Well glad I got here now instead of later.." he said grabbing his keys from his pockets and unlocking the door. Your eyes widen "Oh! You're the new professor?" Holy shit the rumors were true, he sure was hot.

He smiled opening the door for you, "Professor' Quinn." He said handing out his hand to shake. "Y/n, it's— it's really nice to meet you.. professor' Quinn" oh my his hands are warm and his jawline— Jesus. This is gonna be a long year.

"Met me at Donut Shop at 3:30 IMPORTANT !!!" sent now

✎

You walked into the shop, it's a ghost town. Except for Olive sitting there back facing uou. You took the seat and Olive dropped their phone on the table "what happened!?"

You signed taking a bite out of your donut. "You were right, he is a hottie hot hot." Their eyes widen. "Really?" You nodded "he was actually.. so fine." You said dreamingly.

"Coming from you that's a lot—" you nodded taking another bite "I know!" You shook your head, "I don't know what I'm gonna do." They took a sip of their drink as you did the same.

You heard the bell ring from the door, looking to see who it was. As you spat out your drink, coughing as you two grabbed napkins. "Shit, shit shit— he's here!" You whispered shouted at them.

"Who?" "Hottie hot hot— no don't turn around—" their eyes widen "holy shit you are right—" you looked at him and noticed him coming this way. "He's coming this way— act cool, no smart!"

"Y/n, I feel like you're stalking me eh?" You laughed "I could say the same!" He smiled "I'm actually surprised to see you here! This place is usually always empty." You told him with a slight smile.

"It is usually empty, but their coffee here is fucking amazing." You're eyes widen that he cursed and he seemed to notice that so he smiled "Were not on school property so I think it's ok to swear."

You nodded as you heard the speakers turn on "I'm sorry to break this up but we closed two minutes ago." You three turned to the worker "mate— it's just us three here." They shrugged "I just want to go home." "Alright alright we'll get out of your hair." Olive said getting up, they gave you a look saying 'I'll meet you in the car, you go get him' as they walked out quickly.

"Sorry if I ruined a date or something." He said walking to the door slowly as you got up grabbing you bag, drink, and most importantly your donut. "Oh, god no their my roommate."

He nodded "Are you nervous about the assignment?" He asked trying to keep the conversation going as he opened the door for you. "Oh- thank you! Nope not at all, I already have a concept in mine."

"Wow, I'm impressed." You laughed as he took a sip of his coffee "it's not a difficult, you just asked for a one thousand word essay over anything!" He laughed "I didn't want to make it difficult for the first assignment!"

You laughed taking a bite out of your donut "May I know what the concept is?" He smiled at you, as you chucked "nope, it's a surprise, you professor; get no special treatment." And then it hit you, your talking to your professor like he's a friend...

He laughed "I'll be looking forward to reading it." You smiled nodding "and please call me Joseph or Joe when we're outside of school." You chuckled "ok.. Joseph." You laughed "I'm sure you're a very busy man, so I don't want to be taking any more of your time."

He shook his head "probably just give go home and.. think about what the next assignment is gonna be." You laughed "don't be too hard on us." As he laughed walking too the passenger side "I'll try.. I'll see you in class next week?"

You nodded "Of course, I'll see you professor!" Trying to open the door but Olive started reversing. You gave a smile at Joseph who was watching trying to open it again, as they started reversing again. Making you rush to open the door and succeeded getting in as Olive laughed.

"So how was the professor?" You sighed

"god he's so fine."

✎

#°｡☆ -> [ JOSEPH QUINN 🧸 ] #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn #°｡☆ -> [ INEFFABLE 🧸 ]

[thebreakfastgenie]

Songs are often not about just one thing I'm not saying I have a deep spiritual connection with Billy Joel that no one else does, but I do have a good track record at understanding the meaning of Billy Joel songs, even when they're widely misunderstood (because I have a deep spiritual connection with him that no one else does) and I think at least to some extent Turn the Lights Back On is about his music.

[Verse 1] Please open the door Nothing is different, we've been here before

The door to the recording studio perhaps... it's also less literal, just opening something back up. It's something familiar! He knows about writing lyrics and recording songs. It's this reassurance that he remembers, that it isn't new.

Pacing these halls Trying to talk over the silence

Silence... from the lack of music.

And pride sticks out its tongue Laughs at the portrait that we've become

Pride could refer to a lot of things, but it's certainly a feeling that can go with creativity. Taking pride in his work... In some ways he has become a portrait of himself. He's been playing music that reflects who he was thirty forty, fifty years ago.

Stuck in a frame, unable to change I was wrong

He hasn't changed, he's been playing, in his words, the same old shit. He thought he was done writing songs, that he had nowhere left to go artistically, but he was wrong.

[Chorus] I'm late, but I'm here right now

His last album was in 1993. He's also been touring and playing his residency for over ten years now, and he hasn't released any new music. People have asked, and he's always brushed them off. So maybe he's late. It's been a long time. But he's here now.

Though I used to be romantic I forgot somehow

He used to write a lot of love songs. He hasn't written any for a while, or any lyrics. He feels like he forgot how, or forgot what he liked about it. He's also used romance and being romantic as somewhat of a metaphor before.

Time can make you blind But I see you now As we're laying in the darkness

It's easy to forget how much you loved something when you haven't done it in so long, but he remembers now.

Did I wait too long To turn the lights back on?

He wonders if it's too late. After all, it's been decades, and he's turning 75 this year. Turning the lights back on evokes literally turning the lights on in a long empty room, like a recording studio, but also more generally suggest starting again, starting back up.

[Verse 2] Herе, stuck on a hill Outsiders inside the homе that we built

Maybe the hill is an obstacle, a thirty year bout of writer's block. Or maybe it's a peak. Maybe he hasn't written songs all these years because he felt like he'd already peaked creatively and there was nowhere left for him to go. He feels like an outsider in his own career now, because he's not writing. He's also influenced a lot of younger musicians, so maybe the home we built refers to that too.

The cold settles in It's been a long winter of indifference

He hasn't cared much about writing songs in a long time, but now he's starting to notice it feels like something is missing. The Genius annotation also tied this lyric to the early fall references in Famous Last Words. The teaser video showed him turning a page from Famous Last Words to Turn the Lights Back On so there's definitely some level of connection there. Famous Last Words was about feeling he had nothing left to say, but even then he left hanging the possibility of other words some other day. These are the words.

And maybe you love me, maybe you don't Maybe you'll learn to, maybe you won't

I think you here refers to both the personification of music--his muse--and the audience. Maybe his muse will be good to him, maybe not, maybe he'll get back in the swing of it, maybe not, this is new and he's trying. Maybe the audience will love his new music, maybe they won't like it and won't buy it. I think this also works in the reverse, where he's the second person. Maybe he realizes he loves songwriting again, or maybe he doesn't at first but he does with time, or maybe he doesn't and this song is it, just one experiment.

You've had enough, but I won't give up On you

He had previously had enough of writing songs, maybe his muse had had enough of him, but he's not giving up on doing this art.

[Chorus] I'm late, but I'm here right now And I'm tryin' to find the magic That we lost somehow

He wrote some really magic songs. As much as he claims lyrics are just what you have to write to sell songs, he wrote twelve albums worth of songs over twenty years, there must have been some magic in it for him. He lost that along the way and he's trying to rediscover it now.

Maybe I was blind But I see you now As we're laying in the darkness

He couldn't see what he liked about songwriting for a longtime, what the draw really was, but now, after all this time in the darkness not doing it, he sees it.

Did I wait too long To turn the lights back on? [Chorus] I'm late, but I'm here right now Is there still time for forgiveness? Won't you tell me how?

He's wondering if he still has a chance to go back. He's old, he's been away a long time. But he wants to figure it out.

I can't read your mind But I see you now

It's not easy to understand. Maybe it's his own mind he can't read, he can't understand where his creativity comes from or how to turn it on and off. But he sees that it's there.

As we're layin' in the darkness Did I wait too long To turn the lights back on? [Outro] I'm here right now Yes, I'm here right now Looking for forgiveness

He affirms that he's here now. Maybe the thing he's looking for forgiveness for is how negative he's been about the songwriting process, and how dismissive he's been about the idea of going back to it.

I can see as we're laying in the darkness Yeah, as we're laying in the darkness Did I wait too long To turn the lights back on?

Putting all of this in the context of his first new song in decades and the deliberate connection to Famous Last Words, which is also about his music, I think it makes sense. He's also done a lot of things in the last ten years or so that at one point he thought he was done doing: playing concerts, getting married, having children and now, writing songs. Or at least this song. It's about trying to find the lost spark in a relationship, not with a woman but with music. I think it does suggest the possibility of more music from him, although it's very far from a guarantee.

#billy joel #turn the lights back on

[sourwolf-sterek32]

Rock Bottom

Summary: Jonathan finds you out by the quarry after discovering the cuts on your wrist.

Pairing: Jonathan Byers x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: major talk/description of self-harm, cutting and depression.

A/N: Look after yourselves first guys. If this triggers you, please don’t read this.

I have posted an Eddie Munson, Billy Hargrove & Steve Harrington version of this already. Please comment other characters you’d like to see because ‘Rock Bottom” is becoming like a same fic but different comfort characters kinda thing

The thing with depression is that it has a floor. A rock bottom. And finding that floor is like a blessing in disguise.

When you hit it, that rock bottom, nothing can get any worse. Life is as shitty as it can possibly get. It feels like you should stay down, to just wallow in that misery, but you find a reason to get up.

You always find a reason to get back up, no matter how hard it is.

Whether it's your parents you get up for, maybe it's a pet, a friend or maybe it's just for the sake of finding out what happens tomorrow. But, you get back up. You always get back up.

Lately though, it's been harder than usual.

"Hey, sweetie." Joyce greeted when you walked through the front door of the General Store.

She was leaning against the counter with a bright smile despite seeming very bored due to most her regular customers now shopping at the new Starcourt Mall across town. 

You gave her a friendly wave before ducking down into the medical supply aisle and grabbed a couple bandages. You paused for a second, mustering up a smile before walking back to Joyce. 

"Morning, Joyce. Just these ones thank you." You said, placing the bandages on the counter.

"Of course, that'll be six fifty." She replied, placing the bandages in a small paper bag. "Did someone at home get hurt?"

"Oh, no, no. Just stocking up our first aid kit." You easily lied with a smile that you knew didn't reach your eyes.

Joyce's brows furrowed a little as she looked over at you, seeing straight through the lie.

"You doing okay?" She asked, her voice turning soft but serious and you nodded. "Y/N-"

"I'm fine. Promise."

It was clear that Joyce wasn't buying it. She had become like a second mother to you ever since you and Jonathan had started dating. She knew nearly everything about you, the two of you had become close, but she didn't know about the scars across your thighs or fresh cuts under your sleeve.

The bell on the door ringed as another customer walked into the store, stopping Joyce from asking any more questions.

"Oh, hey, honey." She called out, looking over your shoulder at the customer. "What are you doing here?" 

"You forgot your lunch this morning. Thought I'd drop it off."

You froze recognising that voice instantly.

It was Jonathan Byers.

You and Jonathan had been dating for a few months now. Joyce wasn't too sure about it at first. She knew your family didn't have the best reputation in town, but she quickly warmed up to you when Jonathan first bought you home. She treated you like a daughter and Will practically referred to you as his sister. It was nice. 

Jonathan was a sweet guy. A little shy and sometimes dorky, but in a cute way. He was unlike anyone you had ever met, but you had been avoiding him lately. You didn't want Jonathan to see you like... like this.

Sure, you could fake it. Put on a bright smile, and laugh, and joke, and pretend everything was fine. You've been doing that for years, but you were just so exhausted. It was easier to avoid him rather than pretend that everything was okay.

Taking a deep breath, you masked your expression and turned around to find Jonathan walking through the doors, his face lighting up when he spotted you.

"Hey, baby."

You smiled, "hey, Jon."

He walked over to you, cupping the side of your face with his hand before kissing you gently. For the first time all week, you found yourself genuinely smiling as you kissed him back.

"I haven't seen you around lately." He said, pulling away, his hand falling to your shoulder. "You're not, like, avoiding me or anything, are you?"

"No, no, no. Of course not. Just got some shit going on. Been busy."

You could feel Joyce eyeing you cautiously from the counter, but you kept your attention focused on Jonathan.

"You sure?" He asked hesitantly. "I-I haven't done anything wrong, have I? If I have, just tell me and I-"

"Jonathan, you haven't done anything wrong." You hurriedly reassured, stopping his worried words. "I've just been busy."

He didn't seem to believe you and you knew he was going to try and push the subject. But, you were in no mood to talk about it.

So, you turned back to Joyce who quickly looked away, acting as if she hadn't been watching the whole thing. You rolled your eyes and placed a few bills on the counter and grabbed the paper bag.

"I just came to buy these. Have a good day, Joyce."

She nodded, "you too, Y/N."

You glanced back at Jonathan and gave him a gentle smile. "I should get going. I'll see you later."

Not waiting for a response, you turned and walked out the store, making a beeline for your car that was parked out the front.

"Y/N, wait." Jonathan called out and suddenly his hand was grabbing your wrist, stopping you.

You let out a pained hiss as his fingers grasped your sleeve. The fresh cuts beneath pulsing in pain and you were pretty sure one was starting to bleed again.

"Shit. Sorry, sorry, are you okay?" He asked, instantly letting go. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I'm sorry."

He hadn't grabbed you hard. If it weren't for the cuts, it wouldn't have hurt at all. Jonathan was never violent, especially not with you.

If anything he was overly gentle, always afraid that he might hurt you by accident, despite you constantly reassuring him that you weren't some fragile piece of glass.

Although, right now, that was exactly what you felt like.

A fragile piece of glass. Glass that was already cracked and damaged, and on the verge of shattering at the slightest touch.

"You okay?"

You realised that you had taken too long to answer and quickly nodded.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine."

You knew your voice didn't sound convincing, but you gave him a reassuring smile anyway. Jonathan stared at you for a moment, those beautiful brown eyes full of worry.

"Why are you wearing a hoodie? It's like 85 degrees out."

Shit.

"Uh, I've been inside most the day. Didn't realise it was so hot." You lied easily with a shrug of your shoulders.

Jonathan didn't say anything for a few seconds, his eyes glancing down to your sleeves before an uneasy expression washed over him.

"Show me your arms."

You blinked in surprise, "w-what?"

"Your arms. Show me your arms." He said again, taking a step forward.

"Uh, no." You said, simultaneously taking a step back. "Why?"

Jonathan sighed, "please, just show me your arm."

You held his gaze as he raised his eyebrows at you impatiently before you lift the sleeve of your right arm that you knew was bare.

"There. Happy now?" You asked, shoving the sleeve back down. "I gotta go."

"Your other arm." He quickly said before you could walk off. "Show me your other arm."

"Jonathan, I love you, but no fucking way."

"Y/N-"

"No." You snapped, hating the way your voice broke as you blinked back the tears burning in your eyes.

Fuck, why were you on the verge of crying? Hadn't you cried enough over the last few days?

"Everything okay out here?" Joyce's voice suddenly called out.

She was standing in the doorway of the store, holding the door open with her foot and looking between the two of you.

"Yeah, I was just leaving."

You were relieved to hear your voice sound semi-normal as you turned on your heels, refusing to meet Jonathan's eyes that were glued to you before you climbed into the car and sped off down the road.

-

The drive to the quarry was a blur, both figuratively speaking and literally because the tears wouldn't stop flowing.

You parked the car and climbed out taking in a deep shaky breath of fresh air before leaning against the hood, overlooking the quarry in front of you.

It was boiling outside now that you were sitting under the sun, so you yanked the hoodie up over your head and laid it over your lap with a heavy sigh.

The cuts along your inner arm were now in full view as you looked down in disgust. The skin was painted with a mixture of fresh and old cuts, some healed and scarred, others bright red and still bleeding sluggishly.

You covered your wrist with your hand and squeezed, welcoming the pain as the fresh cuts started to sting, but it wasn't enough.

The pocket knife in your jeans felt like it was burning against the fabric before you reached into your pocket and pulled it out.

Your hands trembled as you flicked the blade out. Dry blood still staining the stainless steel as you pressed the tip of the blade against an unmarked section of skin on your wrist.

Tears started to burn in the back of your eyes as you sliced through the skin like it was butter. Bright crimson blood instantly rose and trickled down onto the hoodie in your lap.

You watched the droplets fall. The cut stinging as the outdoor air blew against it and you closed your eyes, trying to calm yourself.

The pain grounded you.

It was fucked up, you knew this was fucked up, but you couldn't stop. It was the only way you knew how to cope with everything.

You needed it. You needed the physical pain to drown out everything else, because for those few seconds with that blade against your skin, your mind was at ease. You weren't thinking about anything else, you weren't feeling anything else and you liked it.

That's how you knew you were really fucked up, because you liked it. You actually liked the pain.

The sound of a car door startled you out of your thoughts. You snapped your head towards the noise so fast, you nearly gave yourself whiplash when you saw Jonathan climbing out his Ford.

Fuck. Fuck. Fucking, fuck.

You tucked the knife back into your pocket and pressed your inner arm against the hoodie in your lap trying to hide the blood and cuts.

Jonathan walked over to you and you turned away, staring out at the quarry wishing he would just leave.

"Y/N-"

"Please, just go." You said, barely even recognising your own voice.

"And leave you here to cut yourself?" He questioned bluntly.

Yeah, you thought.

But, you didn't say that out loud though. And Jonathan didn't leave.

Suddenly his hand was on your shoulder causing you to flinch, not realising how close he was.

"How'd you know I was here?" You asked, breaking the silence.

"Mum said you liked to come here when you want to be alone."

Well, he didn't listen to the 'alone' part.

You tilted your head up at him, but he didn't look at you, his wide eyes glued to your arm that you were trying to hide, but clearly not very well.

You glanced back down and there was no mistaking the crimson stains soaking into the fabric.

"How long?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "How long have you been cutting yourself? Days? Weeks?"

"More."

You didn't look at him as you spoke, not wanting to see the disappointment and pity on his face.

"Jesus Christ." He whispered to himself.

Jonathan let go, you could no longer feel his touch on your shoulder and you fought the urge to reach out and stop him from leaving.

Instead, you lifted your arms and buried your face into your hands trying to stop yourself crying.

You listened closely for footsteps on the gravel, but never heard any. Why wasn't he leaving?

A few seconds of silence ticked by before Jonathan let out a loud huff and leant down against the hood of the car beside you.

"Sweetheart, look at me."

You expected to hear him sound mad, to sound angry or pissed off, but he didn't. He sounded almost sad.

"Please. Y/N, please look at me." He practically begged.

Reluctantly, you lowered your hands from your face and glanced over at him through teary eyes and had to do a double take when you saw his own eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Seeing Jonathan on the verge of crying was all took before the flood gates opened. A violent sob escaped your lips when you cried, Jonathan's expression breaking.

"I-I'm sorry. Please... please don't hate me."

Jonathan's arm was instantly wrapping around your back, resting across your waist and pulling you into his side which just made you cry event more as you leant into him.

"No, no, baby. I don't hate you. I could never hate you." He insisted, holding you tightly.

"I'm sorry. I-I... I'm so sorry." You whimpered, burying your face against his chest.

"It's okay. Shh, it's okay. It's okay."

He kissed the top of your head gently and just held you while you cried.

Eventually, Jonathan lowered his arm and you sniffed, sitting up and rubbing your face with trembling hands, trying to calm yourself down.

He quickly pushed himself off the hood of the car and walked back around to the side door and grabbed something from inside causing you to frown in confusion before you realised what he was doing to do.

Jonathan walked back over to you with the brown paper bag from the store, but paused for a second when he got a look at your inner arm properly for the first time. A soft gasp escaped his lips and you fought the urge to pull your arm away from him.

It was too late. He had already seen it, the damage had been done.

"Shit." He swore softly under his breath.

He pulled out the bandages and pressed it against the worst of the cuts. The one you had just done still bleeding slowly, instantly staining the white bandage a deep red.

Neither of you said anything as you sat there, Jonathans hand pressing down on your arm with the bandage while you looked out at the quarry, the sun starting to set alone the horizon.

Jonathan was staring down at your arm with a frown plastered on his face which was better. A frown was better than tears. You could deal with Jonathan being mad at you. Anger you could handle.

"Did you treat them?"

His question caught you off guard as you blinked and glanced over at him, his eyes glued to your arm.

"What?"

"Did you treat them? I don't want them to get infected."

Oh. Oh.

He was worried about it getting infected. That hadn't even occurred to you, it should have, but it didn't.

Your silence was enough of an answer and Jonathan sighed before wrapping the bandage around your arm and tying it off so it was secure.

"I got a first aid kit at home. Let's go get it cleaned up." He said, pushing himself off your car and holding his hand out towards you. "C'mon."

You stared at his hand for a moment before shaking your head.

"It doesn't matter." You whispered, looking down at the ground. "I don't care if it gets infected."

"Well, I care."

"You shouldn't." You muttered quietly, glaring at a stone on the ground like it had personally offended you, instead of meeting Jonathan's eyes. "I mean, look at me. I'm fucked up-"

"You're not fucked up."

You chuckled almost hysterically and shook your head.

"I am. I know am. I'm fucked up. I'm broken, Jonathan and I-I can't be fixed. I know that, I mean who does this? And you know what the real screwed up thing actually is? I-I like it. There I said it, I like it. I like the pain and I know I need to stop, but it's the only thing that helps. The pain... the pain helps and I don't... I don't-"

"Hey, hey, breath. Y/N, just breath." Jonathan quickly said and you realised that you were in fact, not breathing.

You couldn't breath.

Shit, you couldn't fucking breath.

In the back of your mind, you were aware that this was some kind of panic attack. But, that piece of information did absolutely nothing to help as you tried and failed to get air into your lungs.

"It's okay, just breath. Copy my breathing." He said, grabbing your good hand and resting it on his chest as he took in deep and deliberate breaths. "Just copy me, okay? Deep breath in... and deep breath out."

You stared at the top button of his shirt, focusing on the small button like a lifeline while you mimicked his breathing. Jonathan continued to coach you verbally, your eyes glued to his button trying to focus and after a few minutes your breathing slowly started to even out. He kept your hand to his chest, showing no intention of lowering it before you looked away from the top button, your eyes locking with his beautiful brown ones.

"I'm... I'm sorry." You sighed. "You didn't- you didn't sign up for this. Just, go. I'm sorry."

You lowered your hand from his chest and fiddled with the bandage around your other wrist, too afraid to look at him as silent tears trickled down your cheeks.

"This doesn't change how much I love you. Y/N, hey, hey. Baby, look at me."

When you didn't move, he lifted his hand pinching your chin with his thumb and index finger and raised your head gently until you were forced to look at him.

"I'm serious. This doesn't change anything. I'm sorry I didn't realise how much you were hurting... when-when you started avoiding me, I thought I did something wrong, so I gave you some space. I didn't realise... shit, I'm sorry I wasn't here for you."

You sniffed, "I didn't want you to know."

"Why?"

You shrugged your shoulders as Jonathan sighed, cupping the side of your face and brushing the tears away with his thumb gently.

"I love you, Y/N. And, next time you feel like this, don't push me away. I want to help, let me help you."

You simply nodded, not trusting your voice at the moment as a fresh wave of tears surfaced at Jonathan's kindness causing his expression to soften before he pulled you into a hug.

"I just want you to be okay." He whispered, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I love you so much, baby."

-

Link to Masterlist in bio

A/N-

Thank you guys for reading.

This character was specially requested and I will be doing a Daryl Dixon (The Walking Dead) version of this next. 

Please comment any other characters you would like to have and I will do my best.

Until next time, stay safe everyone and have a great day xx

#jonathan byers #jonathan byers fanfiction #jonathan byers x reader #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #charlie heaton

[silent-raven13]

A Spider-woman named Billie! 2

(Part 1)

"OH wow! I never seen so many Hobies and Miles in one place!" Pavtri admires the group after Gwen called him over their watch to come back. Pavtri was living in his fanboying world, he spotted baby Billie and baby Gonzalos. "OMG! Look at the cuties! Argh, so freakin' cute!" The young wavy haired ravenette fanboying all over the couples. "Oh, I heard about these two," He points at Hobie 138c with Miles 43.

"And them!" Looking at Hobie 138d with Miles 1015 who were blinking at Pavtri.

"And- of course them!" Hobie 138e with Miles 1019 already linking with their arms close by their waist.

Gwen giggles seeing Miles 1610 and Hobie 138b arching their eyebrows at their friend. They knew their friend is a massive Punkflower fan, always cheering on the famous Punker and Artist Spider-man being together. So seeing him claiming he knew all about other Hobies and Miles being together is a bit overboard.

Miles 42 grunts, "That's creepy as fuck, man!" He crosses his arms with scowl on his face.

"No! I run a Punkflower blog!" Pavtri said, it was hard to tell what expression he's making since he wore his Spider-man mask. By the looks of it, he's pouting the way the mask is looking a bit distorted. "This is normal! Ohh! I heard of these two!" He pops in the middle between Punk Miguel and Mariana, "You two been pretty popular on my blog. There's a whole debate if you guys fall under Punkerflower or Flowerfang!"

"Flowerfang?" The Hobies mutter to their partners being confused.

The Mexican punker tilted his head to the side seeing this short tiny man, "Qué? Foul-pang? Mariana, qué este chico esta hablando?" He looks at Mariana being confused.

The Spider-woman giggles in amusement, "Flower-fang, Miguelito! It's a ship name... Es una especie de apodo para parejas."

"Quick recap on ship names!" Pavtri randomly turns on a holoscreen from his watch to show the group. The holo-screen shows names with symbols, "Miles ship name would be Flower. Gwen is Ghost. Hobie is Punk. Me Chai! So when you get Miles and Hobie together, their ship name is Punkflower or flower punk, tehe!"

"So..." Miles 1019 smack his lip, "Miguel would be fang? Flowerfang?"

"Hehehehe, ain't that a bit suspicious. Considering our boss is like freakin' fifty years old!" Mimi 1015 giggles at the idea.

Miles 43 shook his head, "Ewww.... isn't that low-key weird?"

"Well... if you put Miguel 928 with Miles 1610 together when they first met. That's freakin SUS!" Pavtri began, "But we have Miguel 970, who's the same ages as us! So he's safe!"

Miguel 970 still look lost while Mariana laughs, "I think he would fall under Punk." She saw the way the Hobies were scrunching their noses being a bit disgusted with the idea of Miguel 970 would take their beloved Sunflower. Hell, they would start an all out world.

Hobie 138b wraps his arms around Miles 1610's waist, "I refuse. There's no way I support that!"

"Bae, Pav is just explaining about ship names. I highly doubt there's people that are-" He carefully eyes on Gwen and Pavtri who were trying to avoid his glaze, "Oh my god, there is!"

"I mean... you know I read whatever Pavtri sends me." Gwen casually said with her hand on her neck. "Look those fans are feral with some toxic shit."

"I mean... I dabble a bit of Flowerfang- NOT that I read anything terrible I always having a strict rules about fanfics being sent to me! And if they are dark and angst, I send it to Gwen!" Pavtri said, "I have to support my fanbase! They love my reviews!"

"Esto chico esta loco, Mariana." Miguel 970 wasn't sure what was going on, but the way Miles 1610 look horrified and Hobie 138b being disgust... it was already a sign that being called a Flowerfang was not a good idea.

Mariana laughs, "El es chistoso."

"But you're a Punkflower blogger?" Hobie 138b said.

Miles 1610 stare at his boyfriend then at Pavtri, "Wah-what? No forget that. Pav! Gwen! You two read fanfics about me and Hobie?" The two Spider-heroes awkwardly nodded. "Wow, that's so fucking creepy! Like-WhAT! You know fanfic writers write everything- and I mean, everything!" This felt like some sort of invasion of privacy!

"I mean... is it?" Gwen asked, "They are fanfics."

Mimi 1015 spoke out loud on her Smartphone, "And then, Hobie passionately look into Miles' honey eyes. Their hearts pounding against their chest as they felt their sweaty glistening bodies touching, they're almost there- So close that they felt their souls becoming one. A mewl came out of the young artist, 'Hobie...' The punker stress hungrily, with his thick throbbing-" Miles 42 covers her mouth, "MIMI, there's freakin' kids here!"

The other Miles were peaking over, "Wait, I wanna read it. It sounded good!" Miles 43 said out loud.

"Yeah, what about my big throbbing Johnson?" Hobie 138c grins widely being playful. The punks laughs along at the joke.

Hobie 138d tilted his head, "Hey, it's not hurting anyone! It sounds kinda intense."

Mariana covers her mouth burst out laughing, "Hahahaha, my stomach hurts." Miguel 970 being surprised at Mariana laughing so much. What was funny? He's confused.

"Honestly, that one is pretty good. The writing is Mwah, chef kiss." Gwen admits.

Miles 1610 felt his face warm being super embarrassed, "NO! That's so freakin weird, Gwen! Do just imagine me and Hobie doing that? We are friends!"

"I mean.... not you two specifically. I just read with my own version." Gwen hums, "Look, Miles... it's not bad. I swear read a few and you'll like it."

"Yeah, luv. This isn't that bad. Caught a lot of stuff you do like you giggle when I nibble your ear," Hobie 138b was leaning over to peak at Mimi 1015's smartphone to read a paragraph, this caused Miles to yelp.

"No, bae! Don't admit to anything!" He freaks out, "St-ahhp!" He pouts cutely at his boyfriend.

"But darling, this is pretty accurate on us." Hobie 138b smirks proudly, "I do say I am a bit of a romantic."

"Hobie!" His Miles whines.

Miles 42 gags, "Ew, there's kids here!" He holds Billie 1610, who was sucking her thumb being bored.

The little Gonzalos were being held by Miles 43 and Miles 1019. They were having their pacifiers staring at the adults talking. "But this is so funny! And this got a lot of views." Mimi 1015 giggles with her sparkly stilettos nails shine when she cover her mouth from maintaining her giggles. "We all know it's Miles 1610 and Hobie 138b, because it could never be me!"

"Or me." Miles 1019 snorted, "I like it rough."

"It's very cutesy for my taste." Miles 43 admits.

Pavtri took out his notebook taking notes, "Huh, you don't say?"

"Pav, don't write that! Why do you have smut fanfics on your blog?" Miles 1610 felt embarrassed.

"My fans like it! It's a safe space for us, Punkflower fans." He giggles.

"Weirdo." Miles 42 scowls with disgust.

Gwen chuckles, "It's either you get Pav for loving Punkflower or PunkProwler, Miles."

"ECK! Like hell!" Miles 42 shouted in anger.

Billie 1610 pouted, "Bad word! No, bad word."

"Awe, I'm sorry, mi bebé!" Miles 42 snuggles her with a kiss on the cheek.

Mariana laughs at them with amusement, "Well good thing there's no fanfic of me. Imagine me with a Hobie or a Miguel- as if!" Miguel 970 looks at her being surprised by her words, almost hurt by the comment.

"Ohhh...." The gang made a grimace expression on their faces, even the Hobies felt that like a knife cutting through them.

"Huh, what is it?" Mariana blinks confused.

"What do you me your not with anyone! I thought you were with Miguel 970!" Miles 1015 got into Mariana's face being in shock. "You guys been flirty and always together!"

"Because we're friends!" Mariana link arms with punk Miguel, "Right, Miguelito!"

The rest of the gang were gagged by the answer. Miles 1015 spit like she was a cartoon character that drank water and choked up, very animated like. Miguel 970 nervously almost sad that he's been friend zoned. "Mariana, your so cold..." Miles 43's voice left out of his mouth.

"Huh, why?" Mariana asked still being clueless just like a Miles, so naive and not aware of the hints she got from Miguel 970. She giggles, "You guys are funny. Me and Miguel are friends. You know there's another variant where a Spider-man Miguel marries a Mariana and has a Gabriella.... and that was a crazy one."

Miguel 970 said, "So, you see me as a friend?"

"Of course, Miguel. You're amazing as a teammate."

"Mariana, shh. Stop talking, you're making him feel bad." Miles 1015 whispers with her voice shaking as she saw how depressed Miguel 970 looked.

Mariana was about to say something until Lyla appeared from her watched, "Mariana, Miguel is calling you. Your friend is here and she bump with Miles 2020."

The female variant gasps, "She's here! Why she didn't text me? Okay, I'm on my way." She saw that Miguel sent her the location of Billie, then had her eyes on Miles 42, "She's here."

"No way! For reals!" Miles 42's eyes wide almost from disbelief.

"Who?" Gwen asked.

Mariana gave a small smile, "Billie! She's from Earth 1613, and is a Spider-woman!"

Miles 1610's eyes widen, "What? She's here!"

"Yup, I thought Gabriel was supposed to keep her company for a bit..." Mariana rub her chin, "and I did send my location to her... maybe she gotten lost."

"Mari, you have to take me to her. I want to see her! You said she spotted a Miles!" Miles 42 looks very worried as he holds Billie 1610 in his arms.

"Wait, why is that a bad thing?" Pavtri asked.

"In her canon, her brother Miles die in front of her... he was her Uncle Ben then her dad die." Miles 43 softly said as the Spider-heroes shifted being unease by their reality. It is difficult being a Spider-hero, when they have to look back from the loss of their loved one. "Her brother was everything to her... so you can see where it can affect her."

"I only brought her here to show her the possibilities of other multi-worlds and she did freaked out when she saw Miles 1048." Mariana rubs her neck, "But I didn't think she would come by without Gabriel."

"Who's Gabriel?" Miles 1610 asked.

"Oh, you guys don't know! He's the son of Miguel O'Hara from TRN Earth 660 and low-keys has a crush on Billie." Mariana giggles with delight, "it's cute seeing him always protecting her. I guess, that's where the O'Hara gene still stays. Always protective, always there being patient, and clingy!" The gang looks at Punk Miguel standing behind Mariana being protective and clingy.

"Ahhh..." They agreed.

Gwen always teasing, "You don't say? I always find the O'Haras a bit temper mental... and snarky."

Punk Miguel scowls at her. "And they are the jealous type!" Mimi 1015 chimes in. "Right, Miguelito!"

"No! I'm not like them!" He scowls.

Hobie 138d pitched in with a sly smirk on his face, "Oh really? Then you should be okay with a Spider-man flirting with Mariana which remember Mimi, how that guy saved Mari and they went out for coffee." Punk Miguel released is talons getting mad jealous at the thought, some of the gang jumped by his action and the Hobies were smirking with amusement.

Mariana wasn't paying attention as she saw her baby brother and Miles 42 asking her, "Where is she?"

"She's not that far. From the map it looks like she's by the daycare! Miles 2020 must still be with her! I wonder how she felt seeing his triplets."

"TRIPLETS!" The gang shouted. "What do you mean triplets?"

Pavtri gasps, "Miles 2020, wait I heard of him..." Then he squeals, "OMG, he's from the Omega Miles!"

"OMEGA MILES!" The Hobies shouted as they became alerted.

"Yup, he has his pups with him. The triplets!" She saw the gang looking way too in shock even Miles 1610's and Miles 42's mouth dropped from disbelief. "Wow, you guys haven't met Omega Miles? He's so sweet and amazing! I'm so in shock! Am I the only one who's meeting all these variants? I even met an Alpha Gwen!"

"Sweet." Gwen smirks widely then pouts, "No fair. Every time I try to find my gang they are never around."

"Mari, you said Miles 2020 have triplets... so that means he have an Alpha, right?" Hobie 138b asked with his voice sounding so serious.

"Yeah..."

"So... who's his Alpha?" Hobie asked being very serious, the rest of the Hobies stares at her being curious.

"Why don't we go meet him? I'm sure it's more fun that way than me saying it." She giggles, "Or are you guys chicken of seeing Omega Miles being with a Peter or Miguel or Gwen?" The punks became jealous as they carried Mariana like a royal highness, "Hey! What are you guys doing?"

"Let's go see Miles 2020, luv!"

"Who cares about him? I wanna see Billie!" Miles 42 shouted at them.

"Me too! I wanna see her." Miles 1610 follows behind them!

"Hey don't leave us! I wanna be nosy, too!" Gwen shouted as the rest of the gang follow.

Punk Miguel quickly grab a hold of Mariana having to glare at the Hobies, "Fuck off, carbonse!" He snarled at them with his fangs out as a warning.

"And she said they're just friends." Miles 43 snorted.

"Pavtri nodded, "I know, right. This is totally the Naive and Bad Boy troupe! I'm low-key loving it, because will they or won't they?"

Miles 42 yells at the Hobie almost lecturing as Billie nodded with her fingers wagging at them. "You jerks! This is about Billie. Not your weird fantasy with an Omega Miles! Why do you care so much of him and his triplets? So what if he got with a guy that wasn't you guys?"

"Yeah! No Hobies!" Billie nodded.

Miles 1610 said to them, "Come on, guys. They're all in the same location. We'll see Billie and Miles."

Mariana get back down, "Thanks, Miguelito! Yeah, come on. I don't want her to wait too long." They all left toward the location, "That reminds me, I'm going to contact Gabriel. I'm sure he's lost, too."

Somewhere in HQ a Spider-man wearing all navy blue with red spider designs, swings from one section the next. "Where is Billie? Ah, no mames! I thought I told her to wait for me!" He fumes having his masks on.

"Oh hey, Miguel!" A Spider-man swing by him.

"I'm not pinche Miguel! I'm Gabriel!" He shouted in anger.

Then a group of Spider-men swing by, "Hey Miguel!"

Gabriel let out a frustrated sigh, "I knew, I should've update this suit." He kept swinging until he got a message from Mariana. "Oh, so that's where she's at! I swear, Billie needs to listen to me or at least tell me where she's gone." He spoke to himself as he head to the location to find his crush.

(Part 3)

#punkflower #miles morales #hobie brown #spiderman #across the spider verse #spider verse #fanfic #flowerpunk