#california schools love making sure you know all about that

[foreingersgod]

what about like a paige x reader like they met on vacation somewhere during a break and then they hooked up or something thinking they would never see eachother again but turns out reader is the new uconnwbb team manager

Naked in Manhattan . PB

pairing: paige bueckers x reader

synopsis: you were devastated to face the reality that you’d never get to see your one night stand while on vacation, but maybe the universe has other plans for you

new crush

high school love again

it was finally spring break. no more midterms or study sessions to worry about, just your feet in the sand and a drink in your hand. you and your roommates had planned a small trip to california to celebrate the hard work you’d all put in for the semester. nothing too extravagant, just a quaint beach house right off the coast to let all of your worries wash away.

it was beautiful, just big enough for the 4 of you. when you had arrived you were practically planning out everything you would be doing. a week of doing nothing but sitting on a soft towel, bathing in the sun, listening to the waves crash while you read your book sounded like heaven.

but your roommates had other plans for you. they had heard about a ‘beach bro party’, whatever the hell that was, that a local fraternity was throwing. anyone and every was was apparently invited. the second the raggedy flyer hit the cool marble counter tops of your air b&b, you knew any plans of relaxation were gone.

so there you were on your second night of vacation, crammed into the single bathroom with your roommates, doing your makeup and hair for this dumb party. if it weren’t for the girls begging you to come, you truly would have stayed behind. but they were too convincing and now you were here, shoving your boobs into the most uncomfortable bra known to man and dousing yourself in perfume.

after about 30 minutes at the frat party you were about ready to call it quits. the drinks were absolutely foul (you were sure it was straight acid) and the lights and heavy music were giving you a blaring headache. spring break was starting to feel less and less fun as you pretended to enjoy whatever the hell was going on in that house. you didn’t know anyone, your roommates had ditched you for some random frat guys, and you didn’t have the keys to get back home. in hopes that you could wait it out, you snuck off into a corner of the house, taking a seat on the cigarette smoke infused sofa.

you tried to distract yourself until at least one of your roommates was finished fucking around with a guy so you could leave. closing your eyes, fiddling with the frayed threads of your shorts, scrolling on your phone, nothing helped to kill the boredom. you were about ready to stand up and drag your friends out the door yourself until someone approached the couch, taking a seat next to you.

she had a drink in hand, half empty, still laughing about something someone shouted across the room. she was tall, blonde, and if you were being honest, smoking hot. you glanced at her briefly to try and study her face, trying not to make it too obvious. her hair was pulled back into a flattering ponytail, body clad in a black tshirt and jeans, teeth a sparkling white as you watched her smile and laugh. she was definitely your type.

but eventually, your stares began to linger a little bit too long and she caught you. her eyes meeting with yours just before you could turn away.

“you good?” she asked, setting her drink down the on coffee table.

“hm?” you asked, trying to sound oblivious “yea i’m fine”

“are you sure, cause you keep looking over here”

“i don’t know what you’re talking about” you felt her gaze linger on you, too nervous to make eye contact with her.

“yea,” she laughed, scoffing under her breath “sure you don’t”

“i’m serious, i think you’re a bit drunk cause i genuinely don’t”

“well i’m sober enough to know that you keep staring at me when im not looking soooo”

“why would i being staring at you, huh?” you retorted “a bit full of yourself?”

“maybe it’s because, i don’t know, you see something you like?” now she was just fucking with you. she had this stupid, lopsided grin on her face as she watched your jaw drop in offense.

“oh please”

“i don’t know,” she said “you hesitated there, think i’m right”

you resisted rolling your eyes “and so what? god forbid i look at an attractive woman? my bad”

“so you admit then?” she questioned “that’s why you were staring?”

“if that makes you feel better? then sure, yes that’s why i was staring” you bit your lip and watched as her tongue darted between her teeth, swiping her bottom lip. she eyed you up and down, eyes darkening.

“it actually does” she scooted closer to you, arm extending past you to lay across the back of the couch “what’s your name?”

“…YN” your breathe caught in your throat as her thigh came in contact with yours. “you?”

“paige”

The rush of slumber party kissing

somewhere in between the banter and the alcohol, paige’s tongue found its way down your throat. she had so politely invited you upstairs while her hands were already making their way up you shirt. you obliged and followed her upstairs to some abandoned bedroom while you tried to ignore the aching feeling between your legs.

the door gently clicked behind you as you shut it. when you turned around, paige was already pressing you against the wall. her lips finding their way to your neck and sucking lightly at the smooth skin. you audibly moaned, fingers automatically diving into her scalp and tugging lightly at her blonde locks.

you shuddered when you felt her fingers against the skin of your abdomen again, creeping their way up your shirt like they had previously. she stopped at the bottom of your bra as she pulled away from your neck.

“this ok?” she asked.

you hummed in response, nodding your head violently, taking her face in your hands to plant a passionate kiss on her lips. with little hesitation, she was already pulling your top over your head and unclasping your bra, hands desperately squeezing at your breasts as she backed you up towards the bed.

with lips still attached, the back of your knees hit the foot of the bed causing you to fall onto your back gently. paige followed and climbed atop your body, not letting her hands off of you.

out of breathe and wanting more, you pulled away, tugging at the bottom of her shirt. “can i?”

she didn’t need to hear anymore. the black piece of fabric was already being thrown to the floor, revealing her sports bra which you also tore off her. what a lovely sight to see, you thought.

not long after, both of your pants were discarded, then your panties, and then her boxers. she planted wet kisses down your abdomen, throwing your legs over her shoulders as she made herself comfortable between your thighs.

“is this crazy?” you panted. you managed to bite back a moan of pleasure to look down at her, seeing her look up at you with eyes blown with lust.

“maybe a little” she said “but i can’t help myself”

Don't touch, I'll never cross the line

So I pushed you down a million times

waves crashed against the shore outside, chatter of people walking by slithered past the window of this foreign room you were in. your head was throbbing as you rose from your slumber, you definitely had too much to drink.

shuffling sounded from the other side of the room, causing you to fully wake. you looked over, pulling up the sheets above your bare body, to see paige was already awake. she was almost completely dressed, buttoning up her pants and lacing up her sneakers.

“was i that bad?”

her head snapped in your direction, startled to hear your voice. part of her wanted you to say it again, liking the way the it groveled from the early hours of the morning.

“no” she laughed, offering a smile “you were amazing actually”

“you weren’t too bad yourself”

she was beginning to look around for her keys and wallet, seemingly ignoring you as you remained in bed, still naked and vulnerable.

your brain was screaming at you, begging you to call out to her. part of you wanted to ask for her number, ask for her to stay with you. but the other part of you knew what this was, this wasn’t a date or anything serious. sure, you had developed a liking to paige over the course of the night you spent together. how could you not? she absolutely worshipped you, made you erupt with pleasure, was so sweet to you. this wasn’t something you wanted to let go. but it was unrealistic, you lived miles away from here in another state and paige most definitely had her own things to worry about. pursuing her was not in your cards.

so you kept your mouth shut, watching her shove her keys into her pocket. you assumed she’d just walk out, mutter a goodbye and leave, but she paused and turned to you.

“i-uh, don’t normally do things like that” she said, trying not to look at the outline of your body beneath the duvet “but i wanted to say thanks. i know that that’s cringe, but it’s true. you were…unforgettable”

you could tell she was going through the same thing. mind swamped with conflicting emotions, wanting to stay to see how this played out but also forcing herself to be realistic.

“you too” you gave her a bittersweet smile.

she just nodded at you before heading to the door, fingers wrapping around the cold metal handle.

“bye, YN”

“bye, paige”

and just like that, she was gone. maybe in another lifetime you’d get more time.

I'd love if you knew you were on my mind

Constant like cicadas in the summertime

every since that morning, paige had invaded your thoughts. the remaining time you had on vacation was spent obsessing over what could have been, what might have happened if you just asked for her number. spring break didn’t even seem fun anymore. you didn’t join your friends as they explored the shops in the city or attend anymore parties they managed to scope out. instead you went to the beach, like you originally intended, letting your mind wander as you listened to the ocean. something in you wished that the nagging feeling would eventually go away.

it never did though. even after break was long over, all of you heading home and resuming your schoolwork, she was still on your mind. it made it difficult to do anything. getting homework done, attending lectures, going out on weekends. it was useless because all you could think about was paige. your heart ached as daydreams of her consumed you.

back at UCONN you were doing your best to keep motivated. trying to rid your mind of a foolish dream that you knew was never going to come true. you tried joining clubs and making new friends just to distract yourself. you had even gone so far as to get a new job for the university, taking on the position as the assist team manager for their women’s basketball team. it was a perfect match: you, someone with a general liking and background for basketball who needed to get her life back in order, and a team who was thriving and needed all the help they could get.

Boys suck and girls I've never tried

And we both know we're getting drunk tonight

you woke up at 6:00 am on the dot. it was going to be your first day on the job and you wouldn’t be caught looking unpresentable, so you made sure to give yourself time to get ready.

it was a lovely day as you stepped outside of your apartment building. birds were chirping, the sun was shining, and the traffic was light enough that it didn’t give you a migraine. you made the decision to walk to work, let your thoughts dissipate as you tried to enjoy a relaxing morning.

the walk, like you had hoped, was freeing. you didn’t feel as anxious anymore as you walked into the building, ready to tackle the trials of the day. being the new girl, you had to go through all the new orientation material. get your ID picture taken, fill out some paperwork, the whole process. then it was time to meet with geno and the rest of the management crew.

“you must be YN” he shook your hand firmly “it’s nice to meet you”

“the pleasure is all my mine” you grinned. you made your way around the room, introducing yourself to any unfamiliar faces and learning more about what the job would entail. after some light mingling, geno found you again.

“the girls are out there warming up right now, are you ready to get acquainted with team?”

“definitely”

shoes squeaked against the glossy gym floor, heavy breathing filled the room as you followed geno into the gym. you watched as the girls made shots, passed the ball, and ran drills with ease. it was quite impressive. geno had hollered for them to gather upon your entrance, signaling for them to form a circle so he could introduce you.

you stood timidly next to him, watching the girls round up. trying to inspect each girl carefully as they approached the huddle. they all looked extremely kind. a few offered you a smile or a wave and you smiled in return.

then, as geno began talking, the final few girls joined the group. the last girl in particular had grabbed your attention. you couldn’t see her face very well, only able to catch glimpses of her as she pushed her way through to the front. but when she emerged past the front row, your heart skipped a beat and your breathe caught in your throat. you wouldn’t miss that familiar blonde in a thousand years.

“this is going to be the newest member of the team,” geno stepped aside, putting you on the spotlight “YN, she’s our new assistant team manager. i expect you all to get to know each other and play nice. i’m looking at you paige”

it hadn’t felt real until you heard her name. like it was ingrained in your mind, you finally found the courage to lock eyes with her. there she was in all her glory, staring back at you in disbelief. while everyone else laughed at geno’s innocent joke, greeting you briefly before heading back to their warmups, you and paige remained frozen. she stood across from you, confused expression on her face. you felt like you couldn’t move, like you couldn’t breathe.

“YN” her voice was barely above a whisper.

“paige”

she looked over her shoulder, assessing to see if anyone was paying attention before walking over to you. paige lightly grabbed your forearm, leading you off the gym floor and into a more secluded corner of the building. you had to admit, it only took that one touch to make your heart start racing again.

“what are you doing here?” she asked, now that you were in a private area.

“what am i doing here?” you asked in return “what are you doing here?”

“well obviously i play basketball here”

“ok smart ass,” you rolled your eyes, she hadn’t changed much “i just meant that i had no idea you were going to be here”

“i thought you knew” she breathed “when we met, i thought you knew who i was. i thought that’s why you were staring at me that night”

“of course i didn’t know!” you were unsure what to say.

“have you really been at UCONN this whole time?” she continued “oh my god this is insane”

“what are the odds, right?”

“i thought i’d never see you again”

“me neither” you said before an uncomfortable silence fell between you. nor you or paige had ever expected to see each other again, accepting your fate that you would evidently go your separate ways.

“so what now?” she asked.

“would you…i don’t know what to get a drink or something?” a poor attempt at asking her out “that sounded really fucking dumb, but i’d like to catch up”

“yea,” she scratched the back of neck, trying to hide the goofy smile that formed on her lips “i’d like that”

Touch me, baby, put your lips on mine

Could go to hell but we'll probably be fine

the dress you were wearing was practically suffocating you. neckline scratching your chest, straps digging into your shoulders, hemline riding up your thighs every time you moved. the bar stool you sat at was of no comfort, either. you shifted uncomfortably as you looked around the bar, waiting for any sign of paige. you had made plans for the weekend to meet up so you could make up for lost time.

the night was beginning to drag on and it was getting awfully close to 8:00 pm. you hoped she wasn’t going to stand you up. but, as if on cue, the door to the bar opened revealing a very exasperated paige. she spotted you there, alone with a drink already in front of you.

“hey i’m so sorry” she apologized for her near tardiness “traffic was a bitch”

“it’s ok, was just worried you’d stand me up” you joked.

“i wouldn’t miss it for the world”

you blushed, looking down at your drink. paige ordered one of her own before finally settling in the seat next to yours. you didn’t think she could look anymore beautiful, seeing her there with her hair cascading around her face and dressed in neat clothing. she eyed you carefully, it was starting to seem like a habit the way she kept sneaking glances at you.

“you look beautiful” she chewed on the inside of her cheek.

“stop” you laughed.

“no really” she shook her head, swallowing deeply “i mean it, you’re breath taking”

“well thank you, and thanks for agreeing to go out tonight. i’ll be honest…i’ve been thinking about you…like a lot”

“i’ve been thinking about you too” her demeanor started to shift “i really regretted just walking out that night. i was in my head and i just assumed that we’d be going our separate ways”

“i don’t blame you, i was too” you tired to offer consolation “i mean who would have assumed that we both went to the same school and just happened to vacation in the same place?”

she laughed at that, finally giving you a relaxed and genuine smile.

“a crazy coincidence…i’m really really happy you’re here, YN. this just doesn’t feel real”

“i glad i’m here too” you felt like a weight was lifted off your chest, no more wondering about who paige was or what she did. you knew now, she was here with you.

hours went by as you and paige reveled in conversation, spilling every detail, every story, every memory of your lives. it felt like this was meant to be, that the universe had purposely aligned yours and paige’s path. it felt so natural to talk to her. she was easy going and funny, she was an attentive listener and laughed at all your jokes. it was unbelievable that you found her again and you were more than grateful.

“would you-i don’t know, maybe this is too forward” paige began, gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips as you were finishing up your drinks “would you want to come back to my apartment?…i don’t want this night to end”

“i would love that” you blurted with urgency, butterflies forming in your stomach.

she nodded, not even bothering to respond. her hand came in contact with yours as she paid your tab and dragged you out of the bar.

cold air nipped at your bare skin as you walked with paige to her car. she politely opened the door for you, helping you in. the drive to her place wasn’t long at all, but you had noticed she was right, traffic was a bitch. but her music taste was impeccable and you had plenty to talk about so the drive didn’t feel excessive at all.

when you arrived at her apartment, she pulled out her keys to unlock the door, hinges creaking as she led you inside. it was a perfect little apartment from what you could see. it was warm and cozy, definitely well loved, and you thought it fit her perfectly. she turned on the lights and told you to take a seat on the couch and make yourself comfortable.

paige sat next you, leaving a few inches between you two. the distance and the dimly lit room took you back to spring break. it felt like you never left.

“i like your place,” you commented “it suits yo-”

“can i kiss you?”

“what?”

“please” she closed the gap between you, scooting closer to you just like before “i don’t think i can sit here, replaying that night in my head over and over and not know what it feels like to have your lips on mine again”

you let out a breathe, not realizing you had been holding it in the first place. she looked desperate, leaning into you, hands making their way up to cradle your jaw. her fingers caressed the curve of your chin, fingers hooking underneath to pull you in. but she stopped, painfully waiting for your response.

“yes” you said “please, please kiss me already”

so she did, teeth clashing with yours in haste, pulling you into her without a second thought.

I know you want it, baby, you can have it

your discarded clothes made a messy trail down the hallway to paige’s bedroom. your shirt crumpled on the couch, belt slung over the stair railings, bra tossed onto the end of her bed. her clothes followed, making a pile on the floor. your hands were buried in her hair as she nibbled at your ear, then kissing down to your collarbone. the room was silent all except for your breathy moans and the disgustingly erotic, wet sounds from paige’s lips.

it was needy, it was passionate, and it was absolutely perfect. the way her body fit with yours like a puzzle, it was written in the stars.

Oh, I've never done it, let's make it cinematic

Like that one sex scene that's in Mulholland Drive

it could’ve been a scene from a movie. something you’d watch as teenage girl, when you’re at a slumber party with your friends and someone snuck in an R rated movie. and you’d all watch it, gasping and giggling when the actors would start to take of their clothes. you would stare at the screen while everyone was pretending to gag and freaking out, shutting it off before it got too intense, but all you could think about what how beautiful it was. that those two people loved each other so much that it was like fireworks going off, every touch and every word muttered served as a declaration of love.

that’s what it was like with paige. it was like that movie had come to life. everything about it was like something from a fantasy.

the satin sheets bunched around paige’s hips as she worshipped you. the gentle whimpering in your ear as she rutted into you. your not so gentle moans as you came undone around her fingers. how the room was hot and humid from your pure passion.

all of it was pure magnificence.

I wanna know, baby, what is it like?

I know you want it, baby, you can have it

you awoke the next morning, sunshine filtering in through smoggy clouds. paige began to stir next to you, arms finding their way from under the blanket to the bareness of your torso where she traced meaningless shapes into your skin.

“good morning” she muttered into the pillow, still fighting off sleep.

“morning” you beamed, watching her eyes flutter open “how’d you sleep?”

“better than i ever have”

you yawned with a lopsided grin, soaking in her elegance as she sat up to stretch. the world might as well have just stopped from the way she looked at you, like you were the only thing that mattered.

“hey paige?”

“hm?”

Oh, I've never done it,

“please don’t let me go this time”

naked in Manhattan

“i won’t” she replied “never again”

#wcbb #wcbb x reader #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #uconn women’s basketball #foreingersgod #chappell roan

[bleedingoptimism]

As Steve walks into the grocery store he pulls his sunglasses off, only to put them back on again immediately. The lights of the store make the back of his eyes sting. Hungover from a bad headache, not that people here would care why. Whatever, is not like everyone already doesn’t think he’s an asshole. He doesn’t need to perform for anyone anymore.

A guy, singing to himself down one of the aisles peaks his attention, he’s tall and has long black hair and Steve belatedly remembers that he’s Jon’s friend from California.

“Argyle?” he asks, more to himself than to him, but Argyle turns and smiles at him as if they are old friends. He approaches and grabs his shoulder, shaking him a little.

“Oh! Hi Stevie!” 

The confidence and attitude he carries himself with make Steve smile for some reason. It’s like he’s very sure of himself but in a nice way, not in a douchey way, like his high school buddies were. Although hearing someone call him “Stevie” reminds him of Tommy and a very different time and he can’t help but shrink inwards a little, “Oh no please, just Steve,” he says with an apologetic smile, pulling his sunglasses off again and placing them on his head. And because he doesn’t want Argyle to think he’s the douchebag, he explains further, “‘Stevie’ brings back bad memories,”

Argyle leans his head to the side with a pout but then smiles and squeezes Steve’s shoulder, “Dude, it’s fine, we can just make new ones, man! Better ones.”

Steve’s first reaction is to scoff. As if it were that easy… but then he thinks, hell, maybe it is.  Maybe it is and it makes him smile. Argyle is way too outgoing for it to be comfortable for other people, it’s kind of ridiculous. For a second, he wonders if Jonathan found it jarring when he first met him. But Steve finds it refreshing. He shakes his head and smiles,

“So what were you looking for? Maybe I can help?” he offers.

Argyle turns in a circle, letting go of Steve’s shoulder and opening his arms wide, like he’s presenting the store to Steve, “See man, I'm mentally preparing myself for the munchies. I kind of wanted to make a pizza but like sweet? You get me?”

“Like a pie?” Steve chuckles.

“That! Sounds delicious, dude! But I don’t know how to make a pie,” Argyle laments, and Steve has no idea what possesses him to say,

“I do. You want help?” 

Argyle stills his whole body and then shakes it before he starts snapping his fingers rapidly, startling Steve.

“Ok! Ok ok ok ok ok! Are you busy right now, man?”

“Just need to buy my groceries…” Steve says unable to keep the bewilderment off his expression.

“I’ll help you with that, we’ll buy things for the pie and then you invite me over, how’s that my dude?” Argyle says, no preambles, “I have a doobie and a lot of questions about all the shit that went down” he adds moving his eyebrows up and down quickly.

“What about Jon?” Steve can’t help but ask.

“Ah man, Jonny is with Nancy right now. Those two love birds had a lot to talk about, so I figured I’d make myself scarce.” Argyle answers, nodding apprehensively at his own statement.

Steve finds himself nodding along before saying, “Yeah, okay. Let’s do it!”

“Hell yeah, Stevie!” Argyle exclaims throwing his arms up and this time, Steve doesn’t cringe at the nickname.

After that, Argyle follows Steve through the store, helping him put things in the cart, making a few comments about differences in products or prices from California, but mostly staying out of the way and humming to himself. Steve asks him what he wants the pie to be (strawberries and chocolate) so he gets the ingredients for that too and then they are off.

When they get to his place, Steve tells him to get comfortable while he puts stuff away but Argyle helps him out before sitting on a tall stool in the kitchen and watching as Steve gets all the ingredients for the pie laid out.

“You know dude, you’re kind of exactly how I imagined you’d be,” Argyle tells him, gifting him another one of his smiles. 

“Really?” Steve asks surprised.

“Jon told me all about you, man,” he answers nodding. 

Steve raises an eyebrow at that, “And you still want to hang out with me?” he asks, half judgy, half defensive.

“Of course! Because you know what I got from it, dog?” Argyle asks and Steve just stares at him, afraid to know the answer.

“That you are a good person, Stevie! So you got off to a rocky start dude, so what? I think that makes you all the more interesting.”

Steve purses his lips in an attempt not to smile and raises an eyebrow.

“You went to hell and beyond for someone you didn’t even like! You’ve paid your dues and a half for whatever shit you did when you were younger and it could’ve made you bitter or closed off, man! But it didn’t. Not even the tiniest little bit. You barely know me and you invited me over and offered to bake pie for me, dude!” 

Steve chuckles and shakes his head, “You got all that from what Jon told you? Also you invited yourself over,” he jokes. 

Argyle laughs and then just shrugs, choosing to ignore Steve’s question about Jon.

He lets it go, and Argyle lights up the joint while he starts making the pie. After they both get a few hits, Argyle starts asking him about everything. ‘Start from the beginning’ he says.

Steve starts off a little stiff but gets looser with the weed and Argyle's presence and ends up telling him practically everything. Argyle asks a few questions every once in a while, sometimes about the process of making the pie. Sometimes some really intense shit like ‘and how did that make you feel?’, ‘did you think you were going to die?’ ‘were you scared?’.

Steve answers everything honestly, and it feels incredibly cathartic. His favorite questions are the ones about the pie though, and he smiles the biggest when Argyle says next time he’ll make one for him.

In turn, Steve asks him how he met Jon and chuckles when Argyle confirms his thoughts and tells him Jon didn’t like Argyle one bit at first.

“He said I was too happy. He didn’t trust it. Dude couldn’t trust anyone that hadn’t gone through some kind of shit in their lives” Argyle laughs, “But I can thaw even the coldest of hearts, man! As we got to know each other, he realized that I did have my own shit going on, but that happiness was a choice for me. Is who I had chosen to be.”

They talk about that too, how it wasn’t an easy choice. How some days it’s harder than others, to keep at it. How all the Upside Down shit affected him too.

By the time the pie is done and the joint is gone, Steve feels incredibly close to Argyle. Like they’ve been friends forever. 

“So that’s pretty much it,” he says with a sigh after finishing a rant about why he doesn’t keep in touch with his high school buddies because Argyle had asked about them.

“Dude, you’ve been through so much,” he says solemnly.

“Yeah, you know that’s…. Life…” Steve says, shrugging. He doesn't know exactly what to say, suddenly feeling very awkward at being seen.

“Nah, Stevie. Me being kicked out of my house as soon as I was old enough to get a job ‘cause my parents couldn’t afford to keep feeding me and my younger siblings…. That’s life.” Argyle says seriously and quickly dismisses Steve's worried face adding, “It’s ok dude, they were great parents, they raised me well and I still go visit every other weekend” And then sighs and looks sternly at Steve again,

“Like I said, that’s life. What you’ve been through? Was hell”

“The kids had it worse- Ell-” Steve starts but Argyle interrupts him.

“That doesn’t erase what you've been through, Steve. It doesn’t make it less of a nightmare, man.” Steve just looks at Argyle as what he’s saying sinks in. 

“And you got through it, dude. You came out the other side even a better person than when it started and like- you saved lives! You saved my best friend's life and like- like- you should be proud of yourself Stevie. I’m proud of you, man” he finishes with a carefree smile. As if he hadn’t just rocked the ground Steve was standing on. And he doesn't know if it’s the weed, or Argyle’s words, or both but Steve closes the distance between them and hugs him.

“Oh, hey! Hugs! I love hugs!” Argyle laughs, and hugs him back, taking it all in stride.

“Sorry,” Steve sniffles embarrassed, “I didn’t know I needed to hear that till you said it,” he croaks.

“Nah, it’s good. I got you” Argyle responds, patting his back lightly.

The hug is wonderful, friendly, warm, and just the right length but when he’s stepping away from Argyle, he hears a wary sound from the kitchen door.

“Uhm…hi” 

It’s Eddie. Pocker-faced and cautious and Steve knows him well enough to know he’s freaking out inside.

“Oh, hi! Eddie! Good to see you, dude!” Argyle says good naturally and completely out of the loop. Steve smiles at him too and rubs his eyes with the back of his hand to dry them off a bit.

Whatever Eddie was thinking goes out the window when he looks closely at Steve and walks towards him, leaning closer to look him in the eye, “You okay?” he asks concerned.

Steve nods and Argyle clears his throat, “I’m going to… set the table for three,” he says, so maybe, not as out of the loop as Steve first thought.

Eddie completely ignores Argyle and grabs Steve’s face, his thumb caressing the underside of his eye, “You really ok?” he asks again and Steve chuckles,

“Yeah,” he answers with a smile.

Eddie hums and then looks back towards where Argyle is opening and closing cabinets in the dining room, looking for plates, “So… Should I be jealous?” he asks and Steve snorts amused, 

“Of course not,” he says.

“You sure? ‘Cause maybe your type wasn’t curls and big eyes, maybe it was long hair and weed all along,” Eddie presses and Steve can tell he’s trying to make a joke out of it but is actually asking for real and Steve gets frankly, really annoyed.

“You know what? Maybe you should be jealous. Argy would never accuse me like that,” Inwardly he cringes at the nickname but it gets the point across. Eddie’s face falls and he looks devastated and terrified for a second before Steve smirks bitchily at him and then Eddie is frowning.

“Asshole” he murmurs, despite still holding Steve’s face as if it were precious and fragile.

Steve steps closer, placing his hands on Eddie’s waist, “You started it” he says as an apology. Kind of.

Eddie huffs and moves his hands to Steve shoulder’s, one thumb pressed to his pulse, “I regret it” 

Steve hums, “Just for the record? A little possessiveness is kind of hot,” he says and pecks the tip of Eddie’s nose, “You questioning my feelings for you? Is not.” and then flicks it.

“Dully noted,” Eddie nods.

Steve looks him in the eye as he leans closer, kisses him fully in the mouth firmly, eyes open the whole time, and then whispers “Good boy,” before he steps away.

He smirks again seeing the full-body effect his little stunt has on Eddie. The way his eyelids fall, his mouth opens, the goosebumps on his arm hair, and the shiver that runs through his spine. He takes a moment to take it all in before he smiles, less predatory and more friendly. Eddie smiles back, and shakes his head amused, like he can't believe Steve is real. He does that a lot.

Steve then takes Eddie’s hand on his own and kisses his knuckles before moving past him and dragging him to the dining room with him, 

“Now c’mon. Let’s go eat pie with my new friend”

e͟n͟d͟

a coffee? a doobie? ☕🥐💕

#stranger things #argyle #steve #friendship #and a little #steddie #on the side #because i cant help myself #i wrote something

[tannieastrology]

Solar Return Observations #2🌻💛

🌼💛Just an update so far, I have a 5th house stellium in my chart this year and life has felt so carefree. Life made me get rid of my old crush and made me focus on myself for a while(Pluto) until just friday I met someone new unexpectedly(Vertex). I havent felt this feeling in almost 3 years its really exhilarating feeling like this and I actually have a good feeling about it. It felt like I was meant to cross paths with him at this point in my life right now because im actually focused on my higher self. I feel that Vertex along with other major planets like the Sun, Mars, Mercury, Pluto, and POF made meeting him feel fated because for one ever since Ive met him ive consequently crossed paths with him multiple times in just the span of 3 days. Its not a deep connection however(5th house) but I hope to beat the odds and make something out of it. So overall, Ive had lots of fun, peace, and new interests in love.

🌼💛So I recently just discovered this, but you can go and find your monthly/daily transit chart and overlap it to your natal or solar return chart to see how your school, career, family, or love life will be. I was wondering why was it that I never got the opportunity to meet someone in matters of romance but i did multiple times in friendships and then I saw that in my transit charts I never had Venus in the 7th house until last month. Venus had always been in like the 11th, the 10th, or the 3rd and school and friends was what was constant in my life. Sometimes even having Venus in the 8th can mean a change in your love life. I even looked all the way through 2022 and 2023 and all 12 months there was not one placement of Venus/Mars/Moon in the 5th or 7th until my transit chart of Febuary 29. Venus conjuncted Mars in the 8th and what happened? I saw the new guy who was exactly my type and I found interest in him. My next transit will be March 30 with Venus, Saturn, and Neptune in the 7th, and Mars conjunct the descendant. Im hoping that things will go well and I can get the courage to talk to him but we'll seeee.

🌼💛Having Jupiter in the 1st just means your whole year will be filled with luck youll just have things fall right into your hands.

🌼💛Uranus in the 9th house is lowkey feeling lost on what path you should take regarding school or just feeling disconnected from school in general. I have this right now and ive been having trouble locking in on my school work and i dont know how i want to plan my schedule for next year. Im just going with the flow atp.

🌼💛Venus in the 4th house means your family will spoil you and make you feel loved.

🌼💛Ok so im not really liking the attention ive been getting from having Lilith exactly conjunct the Ascendant. It feels like every where i go theres been men staring at me creepily and theres this guy on the track team who keeps touching me and crossing my boundries and personal space and it makes me so uncomfortable. Its so grimy and I hate it.

🌼💛Look at the dominant planet and see what house it falls in. Last year i had a dominant planet of moon and it fell in the 12th house conjunct mars. All imma say is that last year was one of the worse but strengthening years for me mentally.

🌼💛Venus in the 9th house means you’ll probably get a chance to travel. I had it in the 4th degree and i went to California from Texas because of a wedding on my moms side.

🌼💛Ive noticed that Vertex in the 5th doesnt always necessarily mean youll meet someone, it just means that youll get a lot of opportunities to go out and have fun.

🌼💛Saturn in the 6th/10th means standing on business.

🌼💛Chiron in the 5th may be a year where you feel burnt out. Make sure to take a break.

🌼💛Moon in libra will beautify a relationship depending on whatever house its in. Ex- first house: your appearance, 3rd: your relationship with siblings, 5th house: with your romantic partners or your inner self. It could also mean you feel romantic this year and could even have more opportunities given to you to express those feelings.

🌼💛7th house Neptune means having dreamy fantasies about people you wanna date. Could have your head in the clouds or you can just have high hopes regarding this area. Could be spiritually calming regarding partnerships but you can be manipulated and gaslighted too if your not careful.

🌼💛Venus in the 10th means being called beautiful all the time during that year. So many strangers used to stop me in the hallways to tell me I was pretty that year.

🌼💛Chiron and Neptune in the 1st means not being able to see your beauty.

🌼💛Venus or Jupiter in the 2nd means splurging on skincare, makeup, and clothes.

🌼💛Having Chiron in the 4th is not fun lol. Could mean family problems, struggling to feel at home when youre at home, and having trouble having a safe space.

🌼💛Leo Ascendant years will make you feel popular.

🌼💛Venus in the 6th could make you follow health, beauty, and workout routines or it could oppositely make you feel lazy and not wanna do anything. It also means feeling comfortable at work or find a interest at work.

🌼💛In 2020 when covid hit I had Saturn in the 5th house and it makes so much sense looking back. We were forced to be isolated and I couldnt go out because of the lockdown. Dont get me wrong though I still had alot of fun with my family but I feel like my middle school experience wouldve been alot different if that hadnt happened.

🌼💛Having a Cancer Ascendant back in 2015 was when my older cousin got married and that was a big event for our family that girl spent almost a 100k on her wedding. She was the first to get married out of the kids in the family. Even having Cancer degrees in the chart will mean change or some significant event in your family life.

Thats all for today hope yall enjoyed:)

#astrology #astrology observations #solar return #my observations

[livwritesstuff]

Tommy POV, wc: 2890, full version on ao3

Tommy Hagan is not jealous of Eddie Munson.

He’s not.

There’s nothing to be jealous of, in his opinion, and Tommy probably wouldn’t be thinking about him at all if Eddie wasn’t the most publicly well known member of his graduating class – well, he hadn’t actually been in his graduating class, Tommy supposes.

They had been seniors at the same time, though.

If Tommy happened to be jealous of anything – and that’s a big if – it would probably have something to do with the famous thing. Everyone has a small part of them that wants to be famous at least in some capacity, he’s pretty sure, even if Eddie isn’t really, truly famous – not like the red carpet celebrities. He’s a writer. Even the most well known writers never get all that much attention, but Munson has his own Wikipedia page, and that’s more than anybody else from Hawkins, Indiana can say. Hawkins itself barely even has a Wikipedia page, and it’s only because of all the atrocities that happened in town in the mid-eighties.

Tommy hadn’t been around for the end of it all – the earthquake-slash-serial killer situation that never made any sense to him. He remembers his mom calling him at his college dorm when the deaths first started. He remembers her asking, “You went to school with that Munson boy, right? Do you think he could do something like this?”

And Tommy had been twenty and a total moron, so he’d said some dumb shit like, “Yeah, he’s into freaky stuff like that. Somebody should’ve put him on a list ages ago,” even though four years of experience told him that Eddie was all bark, no bite. Tommy hadn’t been surprised at all by the statements that later came out clearing Eddie's name, and by then his parents had already high-tailed it out of Hawkins so it all sort of became irrelevant to him.

Tommy never even returned to Hawkins one single time after he left for college (barring his high school reunion, obviously), and twenty years after graduation, he doesn’t really think about those years all that much.

He doesn’t love the person he’d been in high school. He was whiny and immature and had his priorities all messed up. Most of the memories he has of his teenage years, he looks back at and cringes, feels a whole lot of shame and embarrassment, but also some pride at how much he’s grown over the last twenty years. He also knows he’d been kind of a dick in high school, but that he’s less ashamed of. It’s normal, he knows, for kids to be mean, that it’s a standard response to being untreated kindly in other ways. Like, his dad had been an asshole to him as a kid, always on him about his grades and his smart mouth and how he’d no longer been a standout on any of his sports teams after starting high school, and Tommy had coped with that by poking kids beneath him at school. 

It’s just the pecking order of high school. It’s normal.

Even now, when Tommy’s son had dealt with some pricks in the year above him shoving him around, he had come home from school and tormented his little sister for a while – it’s normal, no matter how much his wife had tried to convince him it was something that needed addressing. It’s just kids being kids. They grow out of it eventually, just like Tommy had.

Occasionally he wonders where the kids he’d spent all those years with in the Hawkins public school system had ended up, but these days the internet makes that pretty damn easy to figure out.

He’s learned Tina got married and had kids real young. She still lives in Indiana. Carol, who he’d split up with before heading off to college, lives in Alabama now and she’s got kids and a husband too. Jonathan Byers is a photographer in California – Tommy isn’t into all that art-y crap, so he has no clue if he’s any good, but he definitely recognizes some of the organizations he’s worked for and if that’s any indication, Tommy would wager he’s not too shabby. No wife, though, he noted, so he’d either been right about Byer’s being a queer, or women just found him repulsive (admittedly, Tommy leans more towards the former – he’s a photographer). Tammy Thompson still lives in Tennessee, though it doesn’t seem like she does music anymore (husband, kids, blah blah blah). 

If he’s honest, the only person Tommy is actually interested in tracking down is Steve Harrington, and he’s the one person Tommy can’t find a single trace of online. No MySpace, no Facebook, no weird blog thing, nothing.

Vaguely, he wonders if Steve might be dead. A truly massive proportion of Hawkins had died over just a few short years in the mid-eighties. Maybe Harrington was one of them.

Tommy doubts it. 

He would have known. 

Steve’s parents would have made sure everyone knew if their son had died. Funnily enough, Steve’s mom is actually on Facebook, and pretty actively too, but there’s no sign of Steve anywhere on her page. 

He hadn’t even shown up for their high school reunion in the winter of ‘04, which is odd because Tommy had been certain he would.

He doesn’t obsess over it – he really doesn’t. It’s just a thought that pops into his mind every now and then – where the hell is Steve Harrington?

In the late spring of 2007, he gets his answer.

“Tom,” his wife says, “That guy from your high school is on the cover of this magazine.”

He knows without asking for clarity that it’s Munson – no other person makes sense – and when he eventually gets his hands on the magazine, he finds that he’s correct.

Eddie Munson is on the cover of a magazine because, apparently, he published another book. 

Truthfully, Tommy already knew that. 

It’s his fourth book (which, for the record, Tommy hadn’t known until he knew it because it’s not like he’s keeping tabs on this guy or whatever), and it’s been getting a whole bunch of mainstream attention after a controversial landing on the top of all those book charts Tommy doesn’t follow despite featuring a gay love store amidst all his normal fantasy crap. It sparked a whole debate about banning books and everything (dumb, Tommy knows, because if he learned anything in business school it’s that if you really don’t want something to exist, the best thing you can do is not funnel money and attention into it). 

Tommy does, in fact, watch the news so he’d already caught wind of all this – it’s part of the reason he can’t shake the guy – and it’s why Eddie Munson is on the cover of this magazine (because, seriously, nobody gives a shit about writers until it hits the news).

He allows himself a moment to look at the cover, to look at Eddie, who apparently goes by Ed now. Tommy is loath to admit it, but he looks good. His hair is normal and he’s grown into his frame, not all long and lanky and gangly limbs like Tommy remembers from school. He looks well-fed, confident, happy.

He looks good.

Tommy thumbs through the first few pages of the magazine until he reaches Eddie’s interview, and, again, he allows himself to look over the photo of him that takes up nearly three-quarters of the first page even if he has no intention of actually reading the article itself because, again, Eddie looks good (and maybe there’s something about the scruff of facial hair along his jaw that Tommy's eye gets stuck on). Tommy’s allowed to say that men look good when it’s true – it’s 2007, as his wife likes to remind him whenever it’s convenient for her, and if she’s allowed to say that Angelina Jolie looked good in that CIA movie, then Tommy is allowed to say that Eddie Munson looks good here.

When Tommy flips to the next page, he’s met with a photo that stops him in his tracks, has his feet frozen to the floor because –

Jesus Christ, that’s Steve Harrington.

Fuck, okay, so he’s reading this fucking article.

It takes Tommy a long time to get through it, honestly. Eddie comes out in the article, which might be a big deal, might not (and he doesn't care to be enlightened, thanks). He keeps getting distracted by the pictures scattered throughout it.

The pictures of Steve, mostly.

Because, well, if Eddie Munson looks good, Steve…

Steve looks alive.

Tommy didn’t realize it until this exact moment, but Steve had existed in his head for the last two decades as the eighteen-year-old he’d been the last time they were in the same room together. It hadn’t exactly occurred to him that Steve’s been aging this whole time too, just like Tommy has.

It’s undeniable that Steve is older. 

His hair is starting to go gray at his temples (it’s the only thing that’s changed about his hair since he’s still styling it the same as he did in high school – because why mess with a good thing, Tommy supposes) and he’s got just the hint of crow's feet around his eyes when he smiles. He’s smiling in all the photos – every damn one – and it has Tommy struck by how unbelievably happy Steve seems. It’s an effect that somehow both takes years off the age Tommy knows he is and shines a light on just how good those years must have been for him. 

There’s no solo shots of him like there are for Munson – though according to the article, it's actually Harrington now – and only half the photos are in color. The rest of them – the more candid ones – are smaller and left in black-and-white. 

The one that caught Tommy’s eye first – because it was meant to, he’s pretty sure; it takes up half the page – is right in that sweet spot between staged and candid where Steve and Eddie both know that they’re being photographed even though neither of them are actually posing. Eddie is grinning at Steve in a wicked way that still feels familiar to Tommy even two decades since he’d last seen it on him (probably swaggering around the cafeteria like a total jackass – not that Tommy would know anything about that). Steve is grinning right back at him with a smile Tommy doesn’t think he’s ever seen before.

Or maybe he has, but not on this version of his face, not since Steve was as young as his oldest daughter.

Just as the author of the article said, the photos don’t show the faces of Steve’s children, either leaving them artfully out-of-focus or choosing shots where they’re turned away from the camera, but they’re still present, and it makes the whole spread almost feel like a photo album in a way, like it should be private but instead was published for the whole world to see.

Steve has three of them – kids, Tommy means. He didn’t know that Steve was a family kind of guy. It makes sense though, when he thinks about it. Steve’s parents were kind of a nightmare — present in the worst ways, and absent in the worst ways too (though it hadn’t seemed that way when Tommy was a teenager looking for a failsafe party house). He'd always felt kind of bad for the guy. Like, Tommy's dad had been a total piece of work, but they'd at least been around, and he'd stuck around long enough for them to sort out their issues at least most of the way, and these days he's a pretty kickass grandpa to Tommy's children.

Tommy wonders about Steve's parents now, wonders if they maybe came around like his own parents had, but then he remembers Mrs. Harrington's Facebook page and how there's not a damn trace of her son on there, never mind three grandchildren.

Tommy isn't sure he wants to touch that.

Steve is probably a really good dad, Tommy decides. He’d been kind of that way when they were friends — Steve used to say he wasn’t all that bright, but he always had a freaky sixth sense for reading people, for caring about them in exactly the way they needed.

There's one photo where Steve is managing to holding his youngest daughter — a tiny little baby still — and her bottle in one arm (that's a level-three dad hold, Tommy knows). The bottle is angled in a way that obscures her face, and Steve's other hand is being tugged on by another daughter, this one with a mop of curly brown hair remarkably similar to Eddie's when it was still long.

That's another thing Tommy won't let himself think about, (because he knows if did he'd start wondering if any of those kids were half-Steve).

Anyways, Tommy doesn't need glance to see that Steve wears fatherhood like a favorite sweater.

There’s something about this, about seeing these pictures, about the way Tommy is getting an answer to that question he’s had for years about where his childhood best friend has been all these years, that is making him feel like his ribcage is being split open, bones splintering and shattering as everything vulnerable inside his chest in suddenly out for display.

He probably should feel uncomfortable, right? Like, a guy he’d been seriously close to growing up — sleepovers and gym locker rooms and all that shit — had turned out to be gay. If his own son came home from school saying that his best friend came out or whatever as gay…well, again, it’s 2007, and Tommy doesn’t think his wife would allow him to denounce the friendship entirely, but there certainly wouldn’t be any sleepovers anymore. He thinks that’s pretty reasonable.  

What was the likelihood that Steve had been, like, into Tommy?

And that should be an uncomfortable notion too, and in a sense, it kind of is, but not necessarily in the way he would expect. 

He just doesn’t understand why all this feels so much like a loss because he knows that he hasn’t really lost anything – not since he got his hands on the magazine, anyways. Steve Harrington hasn’t played any sort of role in Tommy’s life since their final falling out in 1984, and as far as he’s aware, having a falling out with a close friend is pretty much a guaranteed part of growing up. His wife even experienced something similar when her own grade school best friend suddenly stopped answering calls and stopped reaching out after they’d started college – and his wife is basically the nicest person Tommy has ever known, so…it happens to even the best.

It’s just…Steve had always continued to exist in Tommy’s life in a way, even if he wasn't physically present, and maybe Tommy had figured it could be the same for Steve too, that maybe he sometimes wonders where Tommy is, wonders what he’s up to.

This article and these photos makes it pretty fucking clear that Tommy doesn’t even exist in the same galaxy as the life Steve is living.

And that’s not to mention the Eddie fucking Munson of it all.

Tommy had been kind of ignoring the Eddie of it all until he couldn’t ignore it anymore, because he doesn't care about Eddie Munson.

He'd never cared, but he'd spent years seeing the guy's face and his name everywhere, and now it feels like a sick joke, like he's the piece of Steve left in Tommy's life.

If the article is accurate (and he has no reason to believe it isn’t), Steve and Eddie have been together for longer than Tommy has even known his wife. Steve has been with Eddie for longer than Steve was ever friends with Tommy – not by a lot, but still more. That’s a long fucking time, and it’s clear as day on both of their faces that they’re just as in love with each other fourteen years in as they were on day one.

It’s not just Steve, and it’s not just Eddie, and it’s not one more than the other. It’s both of them.

There’s one photo in particular – a small black-and-white one that keeps pulling Tommy’s attention.

It’s another candid shot, taken from a bit of a distance. In it, Steve has Eddie boxed in against the counter in what has to be their kitchen. Eddie is leaning back against the edge of the granite countertop and looking at Steve with something sappy and fond on his face, and Steve’s hands are this close to grabbing Eddie’s waist as he looks at him the exact same way.

It’s shit out of a fairy tale or something, and sure, maybe someone could argue that they’re laying it on thick just for the sake of the magazine or whatever, but Tommy knows Steve Harrington and that look on his face is more real than Tommy had ever seen in all the years he'd known him.

So maybe Tommy has a reason or two (or three or four) to be jealous of Eddie Munson.

#unreliable narrator!tommy hagan my beloved #the ao3 version has the interview btw #steddie #liv’s steddie dads verse #steddie dads #steve harrington #eddie munson #tommy hagan

[desert-fern]

The Walls Are Caving In - Jake Seresin X Reader

Pairing: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin X Fem!Reader (Known as Honey Bee/Honey)

Summary: You are sunshine incarnate, the life of the party who is so free with your affection. Jake finds himself struggling to express his desire to be like you while wrestling with his past, what happens when it all comes crashing down around him? AKA Jake is both touch-starved and in love.

Warnings: Jake has a shit dad, angst, still fluffy tho (lmk if I missed anything)

Word Count: 5.5k

A/N: This one-shot is inspired a little by the song In my Blood by Shawn Mendes. That and I really wanted to explore what could be going on inside the cocky man we all know and some of us fell in love with, so please enjoy 5k words of me putting Jake under the microscope.

===

Jake Seresin was a mystery to you.

The blonde man had always been standoffish around you, almost like he couldn’t stomach the thought of being near you. Yet when the other pilots came together, it was like Jake couldn’t be close enough, knocking elbows with Bob as he tried to take a sip of his drink and chuckling when the WSO had to set his drink down to give him a bewildered look. Jake would start teasing shoving matches with Rooster out on the beach, laughing as he got absolutely rocked back into the sand.

But when you were in the group? He was as far away from you as was considered polite.

The unfortunate thing was that you thrived on physical contact. You loved hugs, both giving them and receiving them. Fanboy had figured it out early on and would now run up and pull you off your feet to spin you around. It was nothing but playful, yet why did Jake always look at you strangely?

You’d given up on finding out, choosing to focus on your career as a base medic. It had been a dream of yours to be a doctor while growing up, but as you got older, you had to face the fact that it wasn’t the most financially sound decision. So you joined the Navy and found your calling as a medic. Between treating a few base personnel for coffee burns, the occasional broken toe from jamming it against a bench in the locker room, and the pilots and crew members who would pass out when the weather got too hot, you were thriving on your ability to always try and bring a smile and a listening ear to whoever came through the door needing help.

It was why you had become known as Honey Bee by the base dwellers, as you had taken to calling them. You were sweet and were genuinely interested in getting to know people, but if someone fucked around, you always had a whole swarm of people willing to makes sure they found out.

What you weren’t expecting from the job was to catch the eye of several of the Navy pilots, not for a lack of trying to dissuade them. You knew better than to shit where you ate, knew better than to mess around with a Navy man who could very well have a girl at any and every port of call. You were here to do your job first and foremost.

But that started to change. Jake had caught your eye, not just because of the blonde hair that always seemed to glow in the late afternoon California sun, the green eyes that seemed to clock where you were in a crowd, or because he was magnetic in a room of people, but because you wanted to know more about him. He was an enigma to you aside from his medical record. You knew that he’d broken his elbow in high school playing football, that he’d sprained an ankle tripping over a step, hell you even knew his medication allergies. But anything personal, you could forget about.

So you stuck it out, keeping your distance and content to smother the other pilots in your affection.

===

It was late in the evening as you watched Rooster play yet another song that was older than he was, his squadron around him yelling along to the words. You and Bradley had been close since the mission he refused to talk about, only that he and his godfather had nearly died. You two had also engaged in a casual relationship, hooking up on the off chance neither of you had a partner, but other than the occasional romp in the sheets, you two were as close as best friends. It’s why you were here tonight.

Taking a sip from your drink, you turned to watch the crowd around you, scanning the room and enjoying your people watching. You didn’t know how long you’d been staring around the room, but it had been long enough that Bradley had stepped away from the piano to stand behind you. “Hey Honey.”

You spun around, hand pressed to your chest. “Jesus fuck Bradshaw! You better not give your favourite medic a heart attack. Who else would treat your ass after you fell off another ladder?”

“That’s just rude, Honey Bee,” he teased, winking at you over his sunglasses that had fallen down his nose. “You know no one else fixes me up like you do.”

“Damn right. So watch it,” you shot back, snatching his sunglasses off his face and putting them on your own face. “Also sunglasses at 10 pm? Who are you fooling?”

He snorted, rolling his eyes at your smirk. “Okay, okay. I came over here to give you a hug ‘cause you’ve been sitting over here by yourself. But since you decided to be rude, I’m just gonna walk away.” Bradley turned, moving through the crowd away from you and towards his team on the other side of the bar.

“Fuck you!” You yelled after him, downing your drink and chasing after him. You caught up to him, tapping him on the shoulder and when he turned, you wrapped your arms around his middle, hugging him tightly. “You’re a real jerk, Bradshaw. You know that?”

He laughed, hugging you back. “And you’re a real smart ass for being as sweet as you are, Honey.” Bradley grinned down at you, pulling his aviators off your face and tucked an arm in the collar of his shirt. “Sometimes it feels like I gotta wrangle you.”

You pulled back grinning at him. “You love me.” You felt energised, like that one simple hug had been injected with jet fuel. You were a social butterfly if you had enough hugs throughout the night and thankfully the Daggers had a number of people who loved your playful teasing and joyous affection. It was how you spread your love and you would be damned if Bradley or his friends felt like you weren’t appreciative of how they kept him and each other safe.

“Regretfully,” he quipped, slapping your shoulder and moving over to where Phoenix and Coyote were chatting.

“Dick!” You called after him, laughing when he flipped you off, his back still turned.

You fell into easy conversation with Bob and Fanboy, grinning when Bob pressed his side to you for a moment after a particularly funny joke. And you continued to bounce around the little groups, laughing loudly and uproariously even though you’d only had one drink hours earlier. “How do you do it, Honey?” Payback asked after you’d come back from dancing with his WSO.

“Do what?”

“Have so much energy. I’d be exhausted if I were you.”

You grinned at him, a wide one showing your teeth. “Well Reuben, I see so many people because of work, but I’ve always been like this.”

“Now that,” he said, taking a sip of his drink. “That I can picture. Little baby Honey with two braids making friends with everyone on the playground.”

You laughed with him, feeling alive with the energy in the room. It was only when you glanced around at the other Daggers did you notice a storm cloud underneath the ray of sunshine you were casting over your friends.

“Why don’t you turn your charm on Bagman over there? Seems like his battery is wearing out.” You jumped nearly elbowing Phoenix in the face.

A shrug. “He’s not my biggest fan,” you said simply, missing how Reuben and Nat gave each other a look over your head. “Besides, I don’t want to ruin his night even more than it seems to be going.”

“Mmm,” Natasha hummed noncommittally. “Still, I think you should at least try.”

You turned around. “Why? You all see how he seems to always stand on the opposite side of the room from me, how he barely says two words to me.” There was a frown on your face, something so uncharacteristic that it nearly had Payback choking on his drink as he saw it cross your face.

Natasha just raised an eyebrow and you folded like cheap cardboard. “Fine, but he’s not going to like this.”

You wove through the crowd, making your way over to the jukebox where Jake stood contemplating a song choice. “Hey.”

“Hi.” He didn’t look up at you, choosing instead to stare at the song list you know he’d practically memorized.

A beat of awkward silence passed. “So…” you started again. “You have a song in mind or is it going to be a random choice?”

“Why? You have something you want to play instead?” His tone was sharp, like he was trying to brush you off and it startled you. You could feel Nat’s curious eyes on you and were half tempted to turn around and shout ‘See?!’ in her direction.

“N-no. I was just curious.” Now you were feeling unwelcome. Everything about his body language screamed ‘leave me alone’. He was tense, speaking through gritted teeth, hand white knuckling his beer bottle. “Especially since Rooster always seems to hijack the music whenever you pick a song.”

Jake didn’t say anything, going back to faking his pondering over song choices. You stayed for another moment, before nodding to yourself. “O-okay.” You gave him a hesitant smile before slipping away back towards Natasha. Seconds later, you heard Def Leppard begin to blare through the bar as Jake strolled through the crowd, using his size to gently pass a group of what looked like college girls, whose giggles seemed to carry over the music.

“See?!” You hissed at Natasha. “He would rather fake stare at a music selection he has memorized than talk to me. He clearly can’t stand me!”

Natasha just gave you a cryptic look before drawing you into a conversation about the strangest accident you had ever seen or had. It was enough to draw you focus away from the blonde pilot icing you out, but it also prevented you from catching Jake’s glances your way.

He’d managed to escape your notice for most of the night, choosing to keep to himself or chat with Coyote on the off chance you hadn’t barged into their little group. Contrary to what you thought, Jake didn’t hate you. In fact, he was almost envious of your ability to shine in a room this big. You bounced around like the light off a disco ball, your personality as vibrant as the colours that radiated off as it spun.

The biggest thing he was jealous of though, was the fact that you were free with your affection. You always had a hug and a smile for everyone and if anyone tried to dull your shine, it was like you couldn’t be touched. Jake was jealous of the easy way in which you could ask for a hug to satisfy you.

He couldn’t. Jake yearned for the freedom to be openly affectionate, craved the feeling of being held, but he had spent so long being told that men didn’t do that, that he had to suck it up and be a man. The few girls that had stuck around longer than just one night had never wanted to be close. Sure they had cuddled, but they had all drawn the line at him holding their hand, hugging them from behind. They had only seen him for the prowess and personality he exuded as Hangman, but he was tired of splitting himself down the middle. He wanted someone who wanted Jake too, not just the cocky persona he used to show off. The persona that had made his father spare half a glance his way. He wanted hugs. He just couldn’t ask for them, so he stayed away from you and your sunshine. Created distance between himself and your vibrancy, if only so you wouldn’t pick up on the fact that he desperately needed the affection you distributed in excess.

The half a day he’d spent under your care weeks ago stuck in his memory. Jake hadn’t managed to grab breakfast or lunch on a hot day, hadn’t had much sleep or water, and between the endless up and down, pulling G’s, and push-ups from losing an exercise, the heat became too much for him. He’d passed out halfway through his push-ups, falling face first to the tarmac and scaring the hell out of Hondo who was supervising.

He had been rushed immediately into the infirmary, falling into your capable hands. You had been incredibly gentle checking vital signs, your voice as soothing as a cool damp cloth pressed against feverish skin. You’d stolen his breath when you asked the questions you had memorized due to their frequency of use, and Jake felt like he’d been sucker punched. He didn’t remember much, having spent most of the experience sleeping, but he dreamt of you and every facet of you that had captured his heart and mind over the weeks you had gotten to know one another.

That experience was beside the point though. Instead of asking and being as open and carefree as you were with your love, Jake left himself to revel in the pats on the back, the handshakes, and bro hugs that were “appropriate for a man”. He let himself watch as you hugged Bradshaw, danced with Fanboy, and seemed closer to his squadron than he himself.

So he pushed you away and hoped you didn’t see through him.

===

Days later, you were bustling around the infirmary. You hadn’t seen the Daggers since the night at The Hard Deck and it was kind of taking a toll on your usual bubbly energy. You still had a smile for everyone, but it had started to become forced the longer your shift went on.

Earlier in the day, a pilot had passed out from the summer heat and hit his head hard enough that he bled. You had been filling out reports when the wall of noise hit you and you were on your feet in half a heart beat.

You hadn’t sat down since. That one accident had set off a never-ending queue of people walking through the doors and your feet hurt.

Sat at the desk at the front of the infirmary, you blew out a sigh. 10 more minutes. 10 minutes and then you could go home and relax.

“You good, Honey?” Bradley. You could recognize that smooth voice anywhere.

You nodded tiredly. “Yeah. Just really busy today.”

“I get that.”

“So.” You drew yourself up from your chair, stretching out your arms. “What can I do for you, Lieutenant?”

“I was hoping that you could check on Hangman.”

You blinked at him, thoroughly confused. “What?”

Bradley gave you a flat look. “You heard me.”

“Why?”

“Because he's been reckless lately. He’s going to get himself or someone else killed if he keeps flying like he has.” There was nothing but seriousness in his amber eyes. Every micro expression that flickered over your friend’s face was one of deep concern.

You nodded. “Okay. It will have to be tomorrow though, Roo. I just finished my shift.”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry Honey, but I’m worried about him. He won’t talk to anyone and Mav is at his wits’ end. Can you swing by today?”

Internally, you groaned. Jake hated you, you were convinced of that. Yet Bradley seemed genuinely concerned for his teammate and despite your best attempts, you hadn’t been able to put him from your mind. “Yeah, okay. But if he blows up at me, Roo, I swear to God I will hurt you.”

Rooster grinned. He knew your threat was an empty one, you both did. You cared about him too much to actually follow through with it. “Thank you, Honey. I owe you one.”

“Yeah, you do,” you grumbled as you walked forward to hug him, burying your face in his flight suit. “You really do.”

You felt him scoff as he hugged you back, pressing a gentle kiss to your head. You stayed like that for a moment before pulling back. “Have a good night, Honey.”

“Thanks Roo. Drive safe.”

And then he was gone.

Fuck. What had you just agreed to do? You buried your face in your hands and blew out a long breath. This was going to be a long night.

===

Bradley had texted you Jake’s address as you finished changing out of your scrubs. You knew he was worried, but a part of you was anxious about what would happen should Jake open the door and see you. Would he slam the door in your face? Would he invite you in and then hit you with the cold-shoulder?

Jake Seresin made you nervous. Pretty people always did, and Jake was no exception. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about the two of you, but you never let your fantasies go too far. They were delusions. Jake avoided you at any chance he could, so you had one chance to make sure that he understood that you didn’t resent him even if he so clearly did.

Twenty minutes later, you pulled into his driveway behind the black truck that was so quintessentially Jake it hurt. You walked up to the front door, ringing the doorbell and trying not to look as awkward as you felt.

The blue door opened up and Jake stared at you with confusion written all over his face. “What are you doing here?”

You swallowed, mustering up some courage to say “Rooster sent me. Can I come in?”

“Sure?” Jake held the door open, stepping aside to let you pass by him. “You have strange timing. I just got Bradshit off my ass.”

“Heh yeah. It’s almost like an intervention or something.” Inwardly, you were cringing. Why had you said that? God, it was like any social skills you had vanished the minute you were around the blonde man. “Your house is nice. I love the colour of the hardwood.”

“Thanks.” Jake’s voice was back to short and clipped. It was clear that he was on edge now. Likely thanks to your stupid comment. Why couldn’t the floor just crack open beneath you right now and spare you the awkwardness? “So why are you here?”

You took a deep breath, letting your eyes meet his own. “Rooster is worried about you. He didn’t say why, just that I should check on you.”

“I’m fine,” he said quickly, averting his gaze. His arms were crossed over his chest, the black T-shirt clinging mouthwateringly to his arms and shoulders- you shook yourself mentally, cringing again at your thoughts. “You can go now.” Jake’s rushed voice cut through your self-judgement and brought you immediately back into his entryway where he stood not quite glaring at you.

Your interest was piqued by his rush of words. “That was awfully quick,” you remarked as casually as you could. “Jake, whatever it is, I’m not going to judge you. I only want to help.”

“Like I said, I’m fine. You don’t need to worry about me.” Deep down, a part of him was screaming at himself to let you in. To let you help. He would tell you everything if you only asked, if you stayed a little longer. Jake clenched his hand into a fist, restraining himself from capturing you in a hug and never letting go. He shouldn’t have these thoughts. You were just being nice. It didn’t mean anything. Right?

“But I am going to. And your team is worried too.” You tried to reason with him, as you watched him closely.

Jake shook his head. “How many times do I have to say this? I. Am. Fine. Okay?” His voice was raised and he seemed just as shocked as you by his outburst. “I’m sorry, but I am fine.” No. God no. Why had he shouted? Even he could see right through himself, couldn’t you? He really hoped you did.

You gave him a kind smile, before replying “It’s okay, Jake. I’d offer a hug, but I know how much you hate them. If you need to talk, you know where to find me.” You turned back to the door, opening it up and slipping past Jake, your arm brushing his chest and his breath hitched.

Turning around, you faced him and watched his eyes land on everything but you. “Jake?” Your voice was quiet, like you were afraid to push him. “Are you really okay?”

He shook his head, still looking at the floor. “No,” he whispered. The fight had drained out of him, his resolve crashing down around him. When he did meet your eyes, you were astounded by the myriad of emotions you found swirling deep within the green irises.

“Where’s your living room?” You asked gently, hoping that you both could have this conversation in a more comfortable place. Especially since Jake looked like he would collapse at any moment.

“Down the hall,” he said hoarsely, pointing ahead of you both.

You offered your hand to him and could barely contain the shocked noise when he took it. You felt the calluses on his palms, the rough parts that scratched at your own hands, but there was also a softness in them. The parts he tried to keep out of the light. “Come, let’s go sit.”

You perched on the edge of the brown couch and patted the space next to you. When he sat, you noticed how it seemed like he had purposely left space between you both. “So,” you began cautiously. “What’s happened?”

There was silence for a moment, before Jake spoke. “Too much,” he mumbled so quietly that you barely heard him. “And I just… I don’t know how to fix it.” He was still lying to himself. He knew how to fix it, he was just scared of losing the persona he’d spent most of his life perfecting. He knew that he craved the closeness that you could give him, he just couldn’t ask for it.

“Hmmm…” your hum was soft. Everything about you was soft, Jake thought. It’s why you were so liberal with your love. “Well, can I help you?”

He nodded before he could stop himself. Jake risked it and finally glanced up at you. Where he was expecting judgement or pity, all he saw was empathy, kindness, and compassion. It nearly stole his breath at just how much you cared. You cared about him, even after everything. “Y-yeah. You can,” his voice cracked on the words, but he steeled himself and refused to look away.

You gave him a soft smile, watching his face carefully. Jake seemed to be at war with himself, torn between choosing what he always had or finally allowing himself what he needed. Swallowing, you spoke gently. “How can I help?”

Those four words were the breaking point for Jake who had been strong for too long. The bottle holding in all his yearning, his wishful thinking, all of it, exploded in his chest and he began to sob.

Your eyes flew wide and you immediately gathered him in your arms, turning him into your shoulder. A moment passed before you realized what you had done and you made to let go, but found that Jake had clung to your sweater as he cried.

Each tear set free something deep inside him and Jake knew that nothing would be the same after this. His grip on his feelings had slipped and here he was, sobbing into your shoulder like a child who’d lost their favourite toy. But despite the shame he felt, Jake couldn’t stop and a part of him didn’t want to. You were here, whispering soft words of comfort, your touch grounding him in a way that reminded him how long he’d been floating on his own.

His mind could only focus on the pain he was trying to purge from his body. With each sob, his resolve on his self-judgements snapped and they floated away on the river of tears he cried for the parts of him he had spent too long hiding for fear they would be stripped from him.

Then, with sudden clarity, Jake realized what he was doing. He was mourning everything he’d lost. Everything that had made little Jake Seresin who he was. The excitement of flying, loving his friends with everything he had, all of it gone to appease someone who had been gone from this world for years now. He only cried harder at the thought of his younger self watching who he was now and being disappointed, asking him why he’d stopped hugging people. Why he’d pushed away someone who loved hugs as much as he had.

His face was buried in your neck, the tears wetting your skin. He clung to you, so afraid that if he let go that you’d vanish. And when you vanished, you’d take with you your kindness, the love you spread around so easily, everything Jake knew he didn’t deserve. How could he? You were a sunbeam that had fallen from the heavens above, casting your warmth on everything and everyone you touched. You were magic to him.

Your heart broke for the man in your arms. You silently cursed the pressure he was under as a pilot and whatever rigidity in his upbringing had made it so he didn’t or couldn’t express his true feelings. It hurt to hear his sobs but you knew that this was years of pain, frustration, and anger pouring out of a narrow bottle he had tried so long to keep shut. “I’m here, Jake. Shhh, I’m here.”

“I’m sorry,” he cried. “I’m so sorry, Honey.”

He felt you stiffen and pull back just a little. “Look at me Jake.” He chanced it, looking up at your beautiful face, cataloguing the fierce look in your eyes that was offset by the gentleness of your touch. “Never, never apologize for your feelings. You hear me?” Jake nodded tearfully, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “You can let go of your burden right now. I’m here for you, Jake.”

Your words only set him off again. They reminded him so much of his mother’s own and it cut him deep. She was the light in his life until somehow you’d eclipsed it. She had always given him the love he had craved and had been denied by his father, who had raised him never to express his emotions, yet he’d forgotten about anger. Mark Seresin was an angry man trapped inside the supposed standards of how a Texan man ought to be. He was needlessly hard on his boys, believing that it was his duty to ensure that every emotion had been beaten and worked out of them. He had raised his sons that crying was for babies and little girls. But he would never know how much damage had been done from his ‘tough love’. Mark Seresin would never see his sons snap under the pressure he had placed upon them and Jake was more than okay with that.

And so Jake poured that story out between tears, keeping his hands caught in the fabric of your hoodie, desperately trying to keep you close. He couldn’t have you slipping away from him, but even though he’d cried all over you, ripped open the deepest darkest parts of himself, you didn’t move except to slide backwards on the couch, settling yourself. You had cemented yourself in his life just by holding him close and Jake knew that you could never be aware of just how much that meant to him, how much he loved you for that.

You were going to stay. You held him as his sobs petered out. Held him close as he brought his breathing back to normal, and even as he tried apologizing. But you refused to hear it. “I said I wasn’t going anywhere and I meant it, Jake. Okay?” Your voice was still soft, your hand rubbing circles on his back as you both lay on his couch. He had his head pillowed on your chest, lying there despite the late hour. “You know you can talk to me, right? I meant it when I said I wouldn’t judge.”

“I know.” Jake hated how small his voice sounded, but he was so tired. Tired of the judgement he inflicted upon himself, the arbitrary scale he used to compare himself to others. He just wanted to rest and he was scared. His hard shell had been weakened under his breakdown and this was so new to him. Jake felt exposed, like he’d been stripped naked before you and left to face your judgement.

The only question was: would you still love him after this?

Jake was shaken from his thoughts when you said his name in that soft voice of yours. “What are you thinking about?”

He hummed. “How much I regret crying. I have a headache,” Jake let out a little chuckle at his words. “God, Honey, what do you think of me right now?”

“Honestly?”

“Yeah.”

You smiled at him. “I’m thinking about how strong you are, how much courage it took you to be so brave. You let your guard down and I am so proud of you for that, Jake.”

Jake’s cheeks pinked. “I might cry again if you keep that up,” he said thickly, swallowing the lump in his throat that threatened to choke him.

“I mean it. I am so proud of you, Jake Seresin, and I will say it as many times as I need to so it gets through your thick skull.” Your tone left no room for argument, but you were still smiling down at him, and the warmth of it washed over him like pulling a thick quilt over oneself during the deepest winter storm.

“I-I think I…” Jake trailed off, catching the end of his sentence before he could say it, before he could confess right then and there. “I have shit timing, holy fuck.”

You only raised a confused eyebrow at him. “Jake, what…?”

“I love you.”

He felt your giggle against his cheek, heard the peals of laughter go ringing through his ears. “I know, you sap. I love you too.”

“Wha- How did you know?”

“The infirmary. When you passed out a few weeks ago because you hadn’t had enough to eat, you were mumbling in your sleep. I just assumed you were calling your partner honey, but then you called me Honey Bee when you woke up and I just knew.” When Jake met your gaze, he saw your eyes full of what could only be described as the purest love. “I think I knew before you did.”

Jake laughed, shaking his head. “Well then,” he began. “Think I should make it official then?” He’d pushed himself up onto his elbows on either side of you and smiled down at you.

You looked adorably confused under his gaze, so he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. You hadn’t expected it so you let out a muffled squeak that made Jake chuckle against your lips when he pulled away. “Honey…”

A wide grin nearly split your face in two as you looked up at Jake hovering over you. It took nothing for you to cup his face in your hands and pull him down into yet another kiss, this one more intense, intoxicating one another on the feeling of your lips slotting together.

Jake rested his forehead against yours, his breathing heavy and those green eyes, the ones that had enchanted you from the minute you met, fell shut. “Honey. My Honey Bee…” he whispered millimeters from your lips.

“Yours,” you whispered back, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek so lightly Jake thought he’d imagined it. “I’m yours, and you’re mine, because you know that I will not be an idle partner in this relationship, mister.”

He laughed and it had never sounded so carefree to his ears. You had broken through his walls, forcing your way in with a touch so gentle Jake hadn’t seen you coming until you held his heart at your mercy and by the grace of whatever God sat in the heavens, you had breathed joy and light back into his soul. Jake was utterly devoted to you and your light, wholly captivated by you. You had remade him with laughter in his heart, reshaped his broken heart in your capable, yet gentle hands.

“-ake? Jake? Where’d you go?” Worry had seeped into your tone, your brows furrowing under the concern you felt. He’d spaced out a few times now, and while you were worried, you knew that it was likely residual doubt and his own way of trying to process the events prior. “You should go to bed, Jakey. It’s late.” Your thumb traced the ridge of his jawline, bringing him back into himself.

“Stay.” The words were out before he could stop them. “Please.”

“Okay.”

One word, and Jake knew that he’d be alright, that he was safe.

You were here to stay, his Honey Bee.

===

A/N: big thanks to Star for proofreading and telling me that this wasn’t absolute hot garbage! And for the record, this isn’t Jake’s Dagger Comfort fic. That is still in the pipeline somewhere lol

Taglist: @sarahsmi13s @startrekfangirl2233 @lovinglyeternal @bradleybeachbabe @horseshoegirl @roosterforme @cherrycola27 @dakotakazansky @thedroneranger @aviatorobsessed @csmt-m

#the walls are caving in #fern writes #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin imagine #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin fic #jake seresin angst #jake seresin fluff

[clubkira]

MARY ANN.

── HAJIME IWAIZUMI. ┊ HAIKYUU!!

“Ginger or Mary Ann?” A common question referring to the old American sitcom from the 1960’s “Gilligan’s Island” that essentially asked what type of girl you were into.

content. childhood friend!iwaizumi / f!reader. fluff. cali!iwa. longterm pining. vv short. LDR (kind of?).

haikyuu!! masterlist.

❥ love letter from vie. i shit this out last night and i can’t bring myself to make it into a full oneshot rn so i just refined it a little . . .

Culture shock is a funny thing.

Iwaizumi has no idea what his California classmates mean one day when they walk up to him after his lecture — new to the country and knowing only the bare basics of english when they ask him;

“Ginger or Mary Ann?”

Not knowing the implications of their question he shrugs unsurely, “Ginger” he says, thinking of the warm spice he uses when cooking meals, reminding him of his home back in Japan.

They click their tongues, patting him on the back and jeer about how he has good taste and invite him out to a bar that weekend. And Iwaizumi — still as unsure as before, accepts.

It’s now been a few years overseas. Iwaizumi is on his way to finishing his degree in Sports Science, eager to finally be rid of university and all the gripes that comes with it.

California took some time to get used to, it’s a lot more different than Japan in every way possible, only amplified by the reverse culture-shock that occurs whenever he visits Japan again for school breaks.

When he is reminded of you.

Standing at the airport, waving him over with a sign in his native tongue his feet move just a little faster than before, tired eyes lighting up as his carry on bag’s wheels drag on the floor and skid to halt when he reaches you.

Big, strong and tanned arms envelope you in a hug, Iwaizumi smells of hot sand and sea water always when he comes to visit, you’ve only learned to grow more fond of the scent each time you greet him.

You always make sure to visit the same areas you and Iwaizumi used to hang around at when you were little — as if Iwaizumi will never come back to Japan again. “For old times sake,” you say, even if Iwaizumi has told you he’s already planning to come back when summer hits because California summers are harsh.

Watching you wade around in that old creek searching for salamanders like you always do when he flies over brings Iwaizumi back to a simpler time in his life, and he is again reminded of that one question from several years prior by his friends.

“Ginger or Mary Ann?”

It took some getting used to, but Iwaizumi soon learned from his American friends, the ones he made by accepting their bar invite, what that peculiar question meant. Originating from an old sitcom, containing the names of two characters in the show — each displaying a different character archetype.

He’s even watched a couple of reruns of the show with them, where it was then they had told him it was the equivalent of asking what kind of girls he was into, and that his initial response, “Ginger,” did not mean of the spice but instead that he was into a more sophisticated type of woman.

Glamourous even, they’d say.

But after every school break, when Iwaizumi is forced to endure another 12 hour long flight back to California and back into the little pocket of sun and heatwaves, his friends ask him again with knowing smirks, “Ginger or Mary Ann?”

It’s a running joke at this point with their friendgroup, since Iwaizumi had no idea of it’s meaning the first time they always bring it up in conversation, cackling at how red he turns with embarrassment before the next topic is brought up.

But their little tease ignites something in Iwaizumi.

He thinks back to you, all the way in Japan, who is probably still going to that same old family run convenience store the two of you have been raiding of their snack stock since you were seven.

Thinking about how you probably still take that old shortcut behind the forest he found when he was eight to make it to the bus on time for work.

How you’ve always lived two doors down from him before he flew to California, always coming home from his house late into the night because you two were trying to catch fireflies during late spring in your teenage years, hoping to jar a few as a night light while camping out in his backyard.

Iwaizumi asks the same question thats been brought up several times before, once as genuine curiousity and others as just a tease.

Ginger, or Mary Ann?

And despite telling his American friends “Ginger” the first time they met, every subsequent question, jeer and laugh has been met with the same new response without fail.

“Mary Ann.”

reblogs are appreciated .ᐟ ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

© property of shoyostar / thomae 2023. all rights reserved.

#im not american btw so #haikyuu x reader #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagines #hajime iwaizumi #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi hajime x reader #hajime iwaizumi x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu iwaizumi #haikyuu!! #haikyuu drabbles #hq iwaizumi #iwaizumi x you #haikyuu #haikyuu fic #( 𝒫𝓇𝑜𝓅𝑒𝓇𝓉𝓎 𝑜𝒻 : 𐚁 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝒞𝓁𝓊𝒷 )

[steddieas-shegoes]

Wayne and Eddie are convinced Annie’s got herself a secret boyfriend.

She’s coming up with excuses why she comes home late nearly every night, says she was asked to stay on and couldn’t say no to the money, says she had to stop at the store but never has bags, says she broke down but was able to fix it herself.

They suspect it’s the new full-time clerk at the grocery store, Jerry, the one who started filling in for Joyce when Will went missing and then ended up taking over entirely when the Byers’ moved to California. He was nice enough, always gave Wayne and Eddie his employee discount when they had to get some groceries.

They just don’t know why she’s hiding it.

And then Vecna happens, Eddie’s comatose for nearly a week before he wakes up to his mama and Wayne and Steve and Jerry all by his bedside.

Jerry’s the first to speak: “Oh thank God.”

Annie lets out a sob and crumbles against Jerry’s side.

Wayne rolls his eyes and pats Eddie on the head, like this isn’t the first time he’s dealt with the dramatics today.

Steve smiles at him, waves his fingers, and says: “Not sure we should thank God or Metallica.”

Eddie falls in love in that moment.

Maybe it’s the morphine.

Maybe it’s the fact that Steve was by his side and knew Metallica.

Maybe it’s because whatever love was between Jerry and his mama was rubbing off on the entire room.

She came clean about it the next day when Jerry was volunteering at the school handing out some marked out food from the store.

“He’s great. You’ll like ‘im. Wayne likes him and Steve likes him-“

“Why would it matter if Steve likes him?”

Annie just raises a brow at him, he cowers as much as physically possible being held together by thread and bandages.

“You’ll like him just fine. He’s bringin’ cookies later, asked what your favorite was so he could get it right. Really wants to impress ya.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re the most important person to me and he knows if ya don’t like him, he’s gotta beat it.”

“Mama, I’m not the one who has to date him.”

“But if we got married-“

“Woah. Married?!”

Annie at least has the wherewithal to look nervous.

“We’ve been seein’ each other for nearly two years.”

Eddie’s jaw drops, and he immediately regrets it when the stitches in the bite across his cheek pull.

“Two years?!”

“Well, I had to make sure he was decent!”

“It took two years to figure that out? How decent can he be?”

Annie rolled her eyes just as Jerry walked in the room holding a container of cookies.

“I know your mama said gingerbread was your favorite, but they were out, so I brought snickerdoodles. Hope that’s okay.”

Eddie snatched the container from his hand, ignoring the glare from his mama.

He took a bite and melted into the bed.

“Are they okay?”

He opened his eyes to see Jerry wringing his hands in front of himself.

“They’re perfectly decent, Jer. You like Metallica? Ozzy? Judas Priest?”

Jerry gulped.

“I like Joan Jett?”

Eddie sighed.

“Decent enough.” He looked at his mama, who was smirking. She knew he didn’t actually expect everyone to love his favorite bands. “He’ll do. Now let me nap, the nurse said I should sleep at least 18 hours a day like a koala or something.”

When he woke up from his nap, the cookies were on his bedside table, but Steve was sitting in the chair nibbling on one while he listened to a Walkman.

“Whatcha listening to?” Eddie asked loud enough for him to hear.

“Judas Priest. He’s kinda cool.”

Eddie felt his stomach dip, his heart skip.

“You’re decent, Stevie. Real decent.”

#SHE HAS A NAME NOW #eddie munson #wayne munson #mama Munson #Annie Munson #steddie #steve harrington #headcanon

[dulcewrites]

ewan in the saltburn trailer is j sooo giving private school filthy rich aemond i love it

AND YES HE NEEDS HIS POC GF

I have been feeling…. less than inspired lately about hotd tbh but hopefully this will spark something. I know no one asked for this lol. This was inspired by Beyoncé’s Upgrade U. Honestly, I don't think Aemond would be much of a loser in a modern setting. He would be far too elusive and people would find him interesting simply based on that. But I am combining/changing some lore here so he is a #loser in this like I am assuming Ewan's character is Saltburn is.

Upgrade You

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x rich!reader (wc: 2k)

Summary: You have always enjoyed having a project to build or fix up and Aemond Targaryen is no different

You flick a spoolie brush over your brows as you finished up your makeup. The lights from your vanity mirror illuminating you as you put the last touches on your face.

"I don't get it," Melanie sighed as she hugged one of your pillows to her chest. She sat crossed legged on your California king bed. "You're like the smartest person I know. Why do you need to be tutored?"

"Everyone can improve themselves, no matter what someone's specialty may be. Remember that."

Melanie nodded enthusiastically. Sweet girl, you think. A little daft at times but nothing some time under your guidance cannot fix.

She tilts her head curiously. "You are pretty dressed up for a library meeting too."

"Another lesson," you fluff your curls then turn from the mirror to her. "Do not let anyone tell you that you are overdressed. Does the library have a dress code?"

Melanie shakes her head slowly.

"So, who is going to tell me to change?"

"... No one?"

"Exactly."

Melanie chews on her lip in thought as if she is taking mental notes in her head. Though she is not wrong you are quite dressed up just to be studying. But your advice was also not wrong; any moment to be noticed should be taken and made the most of. If are to come into contact with any of your peers, why not make the best impression possible. You also do not have in it in you to tell your new pupil about the real reason as to why you were making this little trip. Best move through life with your cards close to your chest as your mother tells you. You can only imagine how wide Melanie's hazel eyes would get if you told her what you had up your sleeve.

Much like how you help the girls around you cultivate their futures, you must look out for your own as well. Your phone dings, and you smile when you check the notification.

Aemond Targaryen.

Archaic, some would say. Sending the feminist movement back 50 years, many could argue. Being realistic is more how you would put it. You have money, sure. Your parents have afforded you all the opportunities they wanted you to have, and for that you are grateful. But you are not naive; this is still very much a man's world. No matter how much money you have, there will be people who will look at you and hate you for having the gall to want more. For having ideas and wanting to express them. For looking the way, you do - for using the way you look against them.

You may not be able to have a seat at the table... but you can have someone build another for you.

Your family may have resources and money. But they do not have 'my father can use company family buy his way into politics; my mom has ancestry that traces back to French royalty' reach.

Luckily for you, there is someone who does have that access.

A little rough around the edges, but nothing some TLC cannot fix. It was one of your best traits: finding the diamonds in the rough and polishing them off so they shine brighter than before.

You go over to your closet and open the double doors. As your eyes search over the different handbags, you call out back to Melanie.

"Watercolor Dior saddle or creme Bottega Jodie?"

"Dior," she calls back.

You check yourself in the mirror before existing the closet.

"Well," you twirl for Melanie. You run hand over your midi turtleneck dress. You knee length boots clanked around as you moved in a circle.

"Perfect," she beams.

She sees you out to your car. With the window rolled down, she waves you off like a mother seeing their child off for kindergarten.

"Happy studying!"

Sweet and simple, just how you like em.

———

You always thought the best thing about Oxford was how it looked in the fall. The leaves begun to change, sprite green to a blend of red, orange, purple, and brown. Made the most picturesque background. But it seemed like how gently the leaves fell from the trees was the only thing that was coming easily.

Maybe it was naivety on your part, but you thought when you showed up in four-inch patent leather Aquazzura heels and literally no books, Aemond would have got the hint. And yet, here you were talking about the components of stockholder’s equity, as if you cared.

"So," you interrupt him mid rant. "Any fun plans for Winter break? I know it is a while away, but everyone is already taking about what they are doing."

He wrinkles his nose, his glasses being pushes up in the process. "Probably just dinner with the family."

Right. The compound. At least that is what the Targaryen main home looks like. You of course needed to your research.

"Well, there is this crazy Christmas that happens before everyone leaves," you shuffle closer to him, and you hope he gets a whiff of your perfume. "Maybe we can go together?"

Aemond snorts and looks down bit sheepishly. "Highly doubt, I am invited."

You fight the urge to sigh wistfully. Cute, smart, wealthy as fuck... and apparently awfully insecure. Everyone throwing the party should be falling at their knees to have him around. But you have since understood during your time at Oxford that many students here do not understand the opportunities in front of them.

If Aemond had any real confidence, he'd say fuck it because he could buy everyone going if he wanted to. They ignore him because he allows them to. And then you realize he is one of those people; the delusional 'I want to get by on my merit not my name' kind of people.

Oh sweet, silly boy.

"That doesn't matter," you wave him off. "Besides, if anyone says anything, you can just say you're with me. Consider it a thank you for doing this for me."

You let your hand slip on his thigh and squeeze slightly.

"Better yet, let's call it a date."

Rhaenyra would think for the amount of money her family has; they would be able to afford stronger liquor. But she has a feeling that it has nothing to do with money, and more about the 'champagne only' rule Alicent liked.

The expansive backyard was decorated impeccably, as it always is for the annual holiday party that they throw. Twinkly lights in the trees, red and green everywhere, and even a frankly nouveau riche ice sculpture. The affair was black tie, and Rhaenyra could feel the eyes of some guess when she showed up in a red fitted suit. Taking small sips from her glass, she looks around the area. She swears the more years go on, the less she recognizes who is invited to things like this.

"Don't tell me step-mommy has put you in timeout."

She rolls her eyes when she hears a familiar voice. Daemon comes to stand next to her, with a small glass in his hand.

"No, you fucker," Rhaenyra then frowns. "Where did you get the scotch?"

"Why do you think I am in timeout?"

Her uncle always found a way around the rules. Rhaenyra blows air out of her cheeks in annoyance. She looks down at her watch; another rule is that they were required to stay at 2 hours. Only 45 minutes has passed since she arrived.

"Heard you are going to the company retreat this year," Daemon downs the rest of the drink and winces at the burning.

"Someone has to represent the family with dad," she shrugs, a small amount of smugness seeping into her tone. "He asked me to go."

"Hmmm," Daemon smirks at her smugness. "You and Aemond."

Rhaenyra blinks confused. "What?"

"Yup," he leans against the wall. "I suppose Viserys found a new muse."

Rhaenyra snorts at his words but then licks her lips nervously. It sounds cruel to think, but it was never something she ever really worried about - her father preferring her siblings over her. At least not something she worried about in her adulthood. Sure, as a girl, newly off the passing of her mother, seeing her father marry a woman only six years her senior rattled her. Aegon being born shortly after only made things more tense. But, and to his own detriment really, Viserys had made sure she came first.

"I did not know Aemond had an interest in the company in the first place."

"He didn't," Daemon's mouth pinches a little. "Not until... recently."

Rhaenyra follows her uncle's gaze out to where Aemond was standing. He always managed to look more grow up than his sibling, more than Helaena and Aegon. A mimicry that Rhaenyra thinks he picked up from his mother, but something seemed different now.

New haircut, no glasses, new suit. Armani? No, Tom Ford. With a Cartier tie clip and sparking cuff links to match. He is surrounded by some of the lawyers that work at the company.

"Looks like university has done him well," Rhaenyra tries to sound as even keeled as possible. "Good for him."

"No," Daemon sounds bored with her strained pleasantries. "That is what pussy does someone who has never got any before."

Rhaenyra blanches. The last thing she wants to think about is her younger brother having sex. She sets her champagne down in disgust.

"Don't be gross."

Daemon huffs before directing his attention towards the other side of the courtyard. His eyes zero in on Alicent, who tosses her auburn hair over her shoulder as she laughs with a young woman. A pretty young woman.

"Only met this semester and managed to get a holiday party invite, and a seat next to mother dearest. She must some charmer."

"You know," Rhaenyra starts. "Not every woman that is around this family is some sort of ruthless social climber."

"Of course, not every woman. Only the smart ones."

She sighs. That was not just pointed at the girl, but at Alicent too. Even though Alicent grew up with an even cushier life than they did. A type of old money that even the Targaryens had to give credence to. Strangely enough, Daemon seemed to take Viserys remarrying worse than Rhaenyra did. Even Rhaenyra over the years has grown to accept the fate that is their blended family. Accepted it enough to be cordial, albeit sometimes still awkward, with Alicent. They have forever been bonded in having to deal with the moods that come with Viserys Targaryen. But Daemon... it seems like he has never forgiven his brother for the act of moving on. He seemed to only grow more jaded since the divorce from Laena.

"How do you even know this?"

"Aemond told Aegon who told Helaena who told Rhaena who told Baela who told me."

Rhaenyra breaks her gaze from the two women. "Keeping tabs on your nephew that you barely speak to?"

Daemon gave her an empty smile. Almost a little cruel like he would crush her like a bug if it would not so pitiful. "You naive little thing. When you figure things out, let me know."

Rhaenyra wants to ask him what he means by that, but Daemon pushes himself off the wall he was leaning against to leave Rhaenyra alone.

Alone was a feeling she was used to. Rhaenyra often found solace in the loneliness that she found herself stuck in. If she did not find comfort in it, it would swallow her whole. Jaw unhinged and bloodthirsty.

Her eyes went back to the where Alicent and the girl were sitting, but Helaena seemed to replace the girl's place to speak with her mother. Instead of getting chummy with Alicent, the mystery woman had gone over to Aemond. Rhaenyra felt a little queasy watching them. Like watching two little dolls or those silly little cake toppers people get. Picture perfect like the stock photos that came in picture frames.

She shook her head at herself with an internal laugh. Here she was picking apart her baby brother's seemingly first real relationship; she was no better than Daemon if she did that. It was she told herself when she watched one of the wives of the company's lawyers come up to the girl and give her kiss on the cheek. Like they were old family friends.

Rhaenyra suddenly finds herself straightening out her jacket and her heels moving across the outdoor area. Might as well introduce herself... as a kind sister figure, of course.

She has a funny feeling she will be seeing this girl around more often.

#a reader fic? yeah I know lol #this is short but I got this idea #aemond getting the pretty woman treatment lmaoooo #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen #aemond x you #aemond x fem!reader #hotd fic #hotd angst #black!reader

[sorchathered]

You’re still the one💙

Pairing- Robert “Bob” Floyd x reader

Warnings- language, a little bit smutty, angst with lots of pining and longing.

Summary- Bob’s come back to his small town in Georgia for his best friends wedding, will their plan to bring him back together with his high school sweetheart work out? Or will it end in more heartache?

When Bob had gotten the wedding invite in the mail he’d been so thrilled, truly. His best friend Sam had done the impossible, made the long distance work through college and grad school and now finally he was marrying his high school sweetheart Millie. He was happy for them, really he was. The only thing that could’ve been better is if he was sharing this with you. This was supposed to be the two of you, conquering your goals and then winding up together, but it hadn’t worked out the way either of you planned and it had been longer than Bob knew since he’d seen your face.

Millie had asked if your old band from high school would reunite for the wedding music and you’d been over the moon, a few of you had continued to play together and occasionally doing a gig or two just for old times sake, knowing that she wanted you involved in her special day made your heart swell.

The closer the date got the more dread seemed to settle in your bones, you’d stalked Bob’s socials and sneakily asked if he was bringing a date, but the look Sam had given you when he said Bob was coming alone let you know he knew exactly what you were hoping. Maybe he didn’t have someone waiting for him in California, maybe he had even asked about you, and for the first time in almost 6 years you let yourself hope.

In his lonely little apartment in Coronado Robert Floyd was doing about as well as you. He’d thought of nothing but you since that invitation showed up in his mail, hell that was a lie; he spent most nights thinking of you if he was truly honest with himself. He was sure Sam and Millie were already plotting some elaborate scheme to push the two of you together over the wedding celebration and he had to laugh at their dedication. He still wasn’t sure how things had gotten so screwed up. Long distance had been hard, deployments, work schedules and midterms seemed to keep the two of you from ever being able to make concrete plans and eventually it felt like you two had just grown apart too much for repair.

He should’ve fought harder, any attempts to move on over the years had been a complete disaster because how was he supposed to find someone new when he was still hung up on you? Natasha always loved to pick on him about it, that one day he’d have to move on or would have to have his “rom com moment” as she called it and sweep you back off your feet but Bob figured you’d long forgotten about him by now. If he only knew that you’d been just as hung up as he was, but neither of you had been brave enough to reach out.

The wedding festivities were in full swing this week, Millie had sent you the final list of songs she wanted for the wedding and you had added a few crowd favorites as well. You missed the days of jamming with your friends, being a music teacher was so rewarding and it had been everything you’d dreamed it would be, but you couldn’t deny that you were looking forward to getting to let loose with old friends.

You were in full nostalgia mode by the time the weekend of the wedding, thinking of all the things you’d had planned for yourself way back when. You’d had your whole wedding planned out, you knew it had been silly but you’d dreamed of a party with all your friends and at the center of it the boy you��d loved since you were a little girl. Deep in the recesses of your parents attic was a hot pink sparkly notebook from senior year with a list of songs you wanted for your own wedding day, gel pen rainbow font with little cursive scribbles of Mrs. Robert Floyd and hearts doodled all over the page. But that had been another lifetime ago, and just the thought of how much time had changed you both brought tears to your eyes.

Bob was so glad to be back home, it had been ages, his mother was already fussing about how he needed to eat more and catching him up on all the town gossip. He wanted to ask about you, but she beat him to the punch; gushing about the musical the middle school was putting on and how hard you were working to make it a success. It looked like all your dreams had come true, you were doing what you loved, but his mama could see the far off look in his eyes as she spoke, she knew all too well what he was feeling.

“You should call her you know, I have her number if you want it.” She’d said softly as she touched his hand but he couldn’t look her in the eyes. “Oh Mama, too much time has passed, I’m sure she’s got someone who could treat her way better than me.” She patted his hand lovingly and shook her head, “Sweet boy, there were never two people better suited for one another than the two of you. I don’t think she ever moved on, I know you didn’t. You know…she lives in the old Macon house on Water Road, not too far if you wanted to take a walk.”

“Mama! “ he said harshly but his features didn’t match his tone at all, he was trying his best not to laugh at her persistence.

She put her hands up and laughed, “I’m just saying, the night air might do you some good. After all life is too short sweetheart.” He thought of his father, taken from them too soon and how his mother had never found anyone else. He’s been her everything, Bob had always thought that would be the same with the two of you.

She heads up for the evening and he’s left alone with his thoughts again. Her house isn’t that far, maybe 5 minutes, and it’s only 8 pm on a Friday she would probably still be awake…

Before he can really mull it over he’s slipping on his shoes and heading out the door, feet carrying him down the sidewalks and past the quaint antebellum style houses illuminated in the orange glow of the street lights until he finds himself at your door. He’s warring with himself about knocking, what the hell was he doing? He’d barely spoken to you in almost 6 years, this was stupid he should’ve never done this. As he turns away to walk down the porch steps he hears the lock click and turning of the door handle, light illuminating the porch as you poke your head out into the night.

“Robby? Is that you?” You say quietly, a small smile on your lips as you look him over with eager eyes. Time had been good to you, he’d always thought you were the most beautiful girl on earth and that certainly hadn’t changed. You weren’t a young girl anymore, your figure was all curves, he couldn’t help but tighten his fists thinking about running his hands over your voluptuous body. Snap out of it Floyd, get your shit together, he thought as you looked at him with confusion evident on your face.

“Well? You gonna come in? Your mama told me you were coming by, I’ve just been sitting by the window listening out for you.” You said as you opened the door a little wider for him to step through. “Of course she did” he muttered, shaking his head with a dark chuckle, leave it to Susan Floyd to take things into her own hands.

You raised an eyebrow at him as he continued to stand awkwardly in the doorway, “I can’t really read your faces anymore Floyd, do you want to come in or are we gonna let all the bugs into my house tonight?” Hands on your hips, sassy remark, yep you were still every bit the spitfire he remembered, that take no shit attitude clearly hadn’t gone anywhere.

“Yeah, yeah y/n I was coming by, sorry I just…I had an idea in my head of what I was gonna say and now here I am and I’ve got nothing.” He said sheepishly as he ran a hand over the back of his neck. You reached for the hand at his side and pulled him through the doorway, closing the door and scooting him in the direction of the couch. Bossy. As always.

“How about I get you a glass of sweet tea and we get all the awkward small talk out of the way, or we could just skip it if you want? I’ve been keeping up with your life through your mom but if you’ve got questions I’m happy to answer them.” You said as you shuffled down the hall to the little kitchen, Bob plopping himself down on your ridiculously comfy velvet couch. “You keep up with me?” He said in shock, he never would’ve thought you’d give him a second thought after he let everything crash and burn, maybe his mama had been right to push him this way.

“Of course I do, it’s not every day you get to be in the top 1% in your field, especially with a job like yours. I’ve always cheered you on, just didn’t think you’d ever show up here, kinda figured you’d forgotten all about me.” You said as you placed down a Mason jar of sweet tea and a tin of shortbread cookies, you’d said it so nonchalantly but he could see in your eyes the hurt was still there.

“I’ve kept up with you too, I- uh I’ve looked at your instagram, and Millie of course updates me when I ask, even if she is still pissed at me about how things ended. You uh- you look like you got everything you wanted in your career too. Mama said the school play is gonna be a big success. I know you’ve gotta be thrilled.”

You nodded, just bringing up your students brought the light back into your eyes. “They are the best, I thought it’d be weird teaching at our old school but truly it is such a joy. These kids love music, it’s so much fun watching them show off their creativity. And as for Millie…Well I’m pretty sure she and Sam have some elaborate plan to “accidentally” trap us in a closet together tomorrow until we work everything out. They’ve been oddly sneaky lately.” You laugh out, and Bob can’t help but join in, they definitely weren’t subtle but you could both agree they were damn good friends.

You both laughed and talked for hours, going through the whole tin of cookies as you caught up on each other’s lives, somewhere in the early morning hours you had fallen asleep with your head on his shoulder and Bob felt his heart stutter in his chest as he looked down at you. He’d missed this, just being with you.

You had been his favorite person for his entire childhood, how did he let things get so out of hand? It couldn’t be comfortable being propped up like that, so Bob carefully pulled you into his arms and carried you to your room. It was nearly 4 am, he would just crash on your couch like a gentleman should and make an excuse to bail when he woke up. Laying you on the bed he made to step away but you curled your fist into his shirt, murmuring “stay with me” as you pulled him closer, and how could he possibly tell you no? He toed off his shoes and slid in next to you, falling asleep to the sounds of your breathing and warm body pressed to his.

He couldn’t place where he was when he woke up, just that it smelled like coffee and pancakes and somehow he’d slept in. Upon opening his eyes it all came back to him, how you’d asked him to stay and he’d fallen asleep in your arms, he felt hot all over just thinking about it, anxiety filling his chest as he worried about how to navigate the sure to be awkward morning after conversation. Again he wondered how they’d gotten so far from where they’d begun; but one thing hadn’t changed, holding you had simply brought it all back. The feelings he had never wavered, and he was fairly sure he was even more smitten with you now after catching up than he had been before.

You were dancing around in the kitchen as you cooked, spatula acting as a microphone while Fleetwood Mac played from your phone. Clad in a tattered t-shirt and pajama shorts from the night before with your hair messily piled on your head. There was that feeling again, the heat blooming in his chest and the butterflies he’d never felt for anyone but you. It nearly knocked the wind out of him. You couldn’t be more beautiful to him than you were in this moment, he wished he could burn it into his brain forever.

You spun around to the beat but jumped almost a foot in the air when you noticed him, clutching your chest as giggles erupted from you both. “Oh! Oh my god Robby you scared the hell out of me! Did’ya sleep ok? Want breakfast?” You said gesturing behind you to the steaming pile of pancakes and bacon, he wanted breakfast for sure but he knew one thing he wanted more than that.

He crowded you up against the stove, leaning behind you to cut the burner off as he looked down at you with a small smile. “Breakfast sounds good, sweet girl, but we need to talk first.”

“Uh huh” you said and he could tell he had the same dizzying effect on you, that was good, he was hoping this wasn’t one sided.

“I had more fun with you last night than I’ve had in years, and I can’t think of why we ever stopped doing this in the first place. Well a reason that actually counts anyways. I know it’s sudden, hell you probably have a line out the door hoping for a date but-“

“Yes!” You blurted out, nodding your head as you abandoned the spatula and gripped the back of his neck to pull his lips to yours.

You’d meant it to be sweet, just a peck to let him know you wanted the same things he did, but it had been so long, and no one had ever made you feel like he did. It got heated fast, muscular arms wrapped around your waist pulling you in so tight that nothing to get between you, hands in his hair as his kisses became more urgent, opening his mouth to you as you moaned softly into his, and the noise seemed to flip a switch as he hoisted you up in his arms and carried you back down the hall to your bedroom.

It was as sweet and smooth as molasses, he unwrapped you like a present as you tugged at his clothes, you wanted him as bare as you were. He eagerly obliged, tossing his shirt and jeans somewhere across your room as he climbed back into bed and pressed you into the mattress.

“Y/n I-“

“I know baby, I feel it too. Make love to me Robby.”

And so he did, again and again until the two of you felt boneless, breakfast long forgotten and morning seeping into early afternoon.

You’d fallen asleep in his arms around one, and he knew he’d have to wake you up soon to get ready for the wedding and go home to get his suit. He just wanted to stay wrapped up in this a little longer, as much as he needed this to be real again he also knew there was so much red tape. You lived on the opposite coast from him, your career was thriving and you’d never moved away from home. He couldn’t ask you to pack away your life and move every 3-4 years with him. Distance had been what broke you apart last time, he didn’t know if he could bear losing you a second time.

When you finally stirred around 2 you popped up in a panic, you were alone in bed and it was clearly later in the day than you had expected it to be. A sick feeling washed over you, had you interpreted everything wrong? Where was he? Did he regret it and bail?

The sound of a door opening broke you from your thoughts, heavy footfalls down the hallway let you know he hadn’t actually left. He caught your watery eyes looking at him from the doorway and rushed forward to cradle you in his arms, swiping at the tears before they could fall.

“What’s going on it that head of yours? You ok?” He said as he rubbed soothing hands against your back.

“It’s stupid, I woke up alone and I thought..” you stopped and then looked up at him sheepishly. “I thought you’d left” you said with a whisper, cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment.

“Oh. Aw Shit. I mean I did leave, but for just a minute to grab us some lunch and my suit for tonight, I’m sorry baby I should’ve left a note.” He looked a little embarrassed as well, he was very clearly out of practice when it came to having a partner.

“Ugh, we’re a mess aren’t we?” You chuckled out as you buried your head in his neck, he just nodded as he continued to hold you, he still didn’t know what this was but god he didn’t want to lose it.

“We probably need to figure all of this out y/n, I don’t want to pop the bubble but I can’t shut my brain off. I want this, all of it with you. I’m scared I’m gonna ruin it again.” He was grateful that you couldn’t see his face, he didn’t know if he could keep himself from falling apart if you could.

“We’ll do whatever it takes.” You pulled back to cup his cheeks so he was looking in your eyes. “We were young and stupid back then, but we can do this now. I know we can. If I have to pack up and head to California I will, I’m not saying it won’t be hard but it’s worth it.”

He fucked you slow and steady under the hot spray of the shower after that, worshipping every bit of you and definitely making you both late.

The two of you scrambled to get to the venue, making it right on time, Sam giving Bob a knowing look at his disheveled appearance when he burst into the groom's suite. When you stopped into the bridal suite to check on Millie, she made sure to pick on you for the hickey you’d tried to hide under your ear. Clearly the plan had worked, maybe not how they’d thought but the result was what they were after. You’d have to send his Mama flowers on Monday for her meddling, she’d known what was best even when the two of you didn’t.

The ceremony was beautiful, full of tears and love and Bob couldn’t help but let his eyes drift over to you, he already had plans swirling in his head of wedding rings and a future he’d thought was long lost. After you sang for the reception the band took over and Bob twirled you around the dance floor for much of the evening, he would hold these moments close until he could get you back in his arms again. It had been the perfect weekend.

A few months later you both were carrying moving boxes into his little townhouse, a new job all lined up at the local middle school and the entire summer to spend by the beach with your boyfriend. Everything had fallen into place, and if the little ring box in Bob’s back pocket had anything to do with it, he’d soon be calling you Mrs. Floyd.

🏷️ Tagging- @mamamaystbr @mamachasesmayhem @attapullman @bobgasm @sailor-aviator @roosterforme @sebsxphia @floydsglasses @sarahsmi13s @bradshawssugarbaby @hangmansgbaby

#top gun maverick #top gun maverick fanfiction #bob floyd #robert bob floyd #bob floyd smut #bob floyd x reader #robert floyd #robert floyd x reader #robert floyd x you #robert bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x you #bob floyd x you

[byerseason]

my personal opinions on byler & mike’s character

most people believe mike is clueless or at least he just suspects will’s feelings. well, sometimes i agree with that but in general i think mike knows. actually he always knew. let’s look at everything from the beginning.

both mike and will always lived in a small town full of homophobia. we know will personally experienced homophobia from his dad and other people in hawkins. mike and will are friends since kindergarten and mike obviously witnessed all of these homophobia will went through. maybe mike experienced it too, we know ted said “see what happens?” for a reason. especially with lonnie, mike witnessed everything he did to will, we all know will shares everything with mike. so from their point of view, this thing called “homosexuality” is something really bad and all it causes is harm and hate. it’s something forbidden.

now let’s see what happened in all seasons. in season 1, a cool girl magically comes into mike’s life and shows interest in him. “you’re blind, because a girl is not grossed out by you” now mike has a chance to be normal like people expect him to be. and he’s a child, it’s not that deep. he can try. no deep feelings, no love, just be normal.

in season 2 this chance is taken away from mike leaving a trauma to him. after all, el was special and he cares for her so much. and the fact that she sacrificed herself just to save him and his friends is not something we can overlook. and adding to this trauma, something really bad is happening to will and they don’t even know what is it and how to fix it. he does his best, he never leaves his side because it’s something a good friend would do right? it wasn’t that forbidden thing the adults get angry about and it shouldn’t be. after el’s return and will being safe, mike had this chance again. el was here, she was incredible, a superhero who saved will and the world, and she was ready to be in a relationship with him. snowball scene was mike telling will “i’m moving on, you should move on too or we will get hurt by this.” because you know, these things always hurt will and nothing else.

in season 3, mike continues to this “moving on” as we can clearly see. this time a little bit grown up, or at least trying to grow up. distancing himself from will and all his friends, focusing on el all the time and for some reason not being able to maintain a friendship with will while dating el. this speaks volumes actually. it’s both him trying to be normal as expected and distancing himself from will to make sure he is normal too. to me that’s all the “it’s not my fault you don’t like girls.” scene. while mike is fighting back, will makes it harder for both of them without realizing it. i think -like everyone- the ending of season 3 was mike realizing it’s not working and it’s getting serious. he’s growing up, they’re growing up and everything is becoming clearer.

will and el moving to california was a new chance for mike. he ignored will, well at least he tried even though it’s clear he felt his absence especially in school, he didn’t reach out to him thinking maybe this is the chance for both of them to move on. and then el’s letter happened. mike thought will really did it, he moved on, he was able to move on while mike isn’t. if we think deeper, he is even working on a painting for her, something he used to do with mike. so yeah, will is normal, it worked for will, while mike is still dealing with this. when they reunite i think it was much more than just jealousy. disappointment, anger maybe? especially after he saw he brought the painting to the airport. apparently will wasn’t planning on giving all his attention to mike, who was visiting him after months, but he was planning to give the painting to the girl he likes, it was probably the reason of his excitement, not mike. so this is what makes mike want to focus on el more and ignore will during rinkomania scenes. when el mentions angela and will gives a reaction to this, mike is sure he was right and this day is about angela for will.

but he finds out he was wrong. well, the painting is still for a girl but at least he was wrong about angela. will was just upset because mike was being lied to, and he was hurt by mike being distant from him. this is what leads mike to sincerely apologize to will, as always. he always does that, if will says “where is dustin right now?” mike realizes his mistake and tries to fix it. if will says “we used to be best friends” mike realizes his mistake and offers to be best friends again. that’s all their dynamic about.

after mike and el’s fight, mike comes and explains what happened to will but it’s more like he is asking for an advice, he wants will to understand him. “it was a fight that you can’t come back from.” he wants will to agree but he doesn’t, this is when we start to understand mike’s inner struggles. he brings up this topic to will three times. none of these conversations are like two best friends giving each other relationship advices because mike never tells will what is the problem. for some reason he doesn’t want will to know he can’t tell her girlfriend that he loves her. we all know will and mike are sincere enough to tell these things to each other, they always do. but if he can’t, there must be a reason. maybe mike himself doesn’t know the answer either, maybe he doesn’t want will to understand his situation because he thinks will successfully moved on, who knows?

in the desert scene, he brings the topic up again, without mentioning what is “that thing”, but this time will seems like he understands. “sometimes, i think it’s just scary to open up like that, to say how you really feel, especially to the people you care about the most.” mike never mentioned he is struggling to say how he feels but will understand, he always did. this conversation would continue with mike opening up to will if it wasn’t interrupted, so mike brings it up once again for the third time, in the van scene.

this time he is being more open but he is still struggling to say one thing, which will completes for him “you’re scared of losing her.” well, mike was wrong. will wasn’t getting it until.. the painting scene. mike is not stupid, he knows will spent days working on it. he knows eleven doesn’t know about what this painting is about. he knows he doesn’t make el feel like “she is not a mistake at all” especially after their fight, remember that line from the script “she’s already beginning to understand she doesn’t need me, i saw it in her eyes” he knows el doesn’t need him, he knows will well enough to understand he is lying. the way he looks at will admiringly is him thinking “he didn’t move on, we’re still the same.” and also him being aware of what will is doing for him, breaking his own heart and sacrificing himself just to make mike feel better. also, he notices will is sobbing, he looks at him and even if he didn’t how could he not? he had tears in his eyes during all the monologue and he was sobbing right next to him. so is there any reason for mike to not say anything to his best friend sobbing next to him if he didn’t know the reason? the mike i know would immediately ask what was wrong if he was clueless. he knows why will is crying but he doesn’t know what to do about it. mike’s situation is pretty sad when you think about it, he probably feels like he’s stuck.

then we have the desert reunion scene. this time we clearly can see how stuck he feels between el and will, he doesn’t know how to get out of this without hurting any of them, and also himself. the way he looks at them looks like also him being afraid of damaging their bond.

then the monologue scene.. this scene may mean lots of different things, i am not sure either.

it may be mike being aware of what will is doing, how he is sacrificing himself once again, how mike is gonna have to lie and hurt everyone in the end, how the things are gonna be way more complicated or mike realizing he was wrong about thinking will has feelings for him.

my season 5 expectation is seeing a mike wheeler who stops fighting back and embraces his feelings, without hurting both of them.

that’s my point of view that changes almost everyday lol. i don’t know if there are many people who believes mike isn’t clueless so i wanted to share my thoughts. 💛

#byler #mike wheeler #will byers #byler endgame #byler analysis

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Skin | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual)

Warnings: mentions of assault/battery, canon violence, canon gore (take care of urselves bbies)

Word Count: 5826

Series Rewrite Masterlist

You and Dean didn’t talk about Toledo. You were back to not talking about much of anything. Your fights had become much less frequent, and when you did fight, it was more playful than malicious. For that, you were grateful. You felt incredibly conflicted about the fact that he was beginning to grow on you. 

‘Like a wart,’ you thought. ‘Or a blister, maybe.’

Whatever he was, he was beginning to chip through your hard exterior. You also found out he hadn’t told Sam what you’d told him about your family which you were surprised by. 

The three of you spent more time on the road than you did anywhere else. When you used to drive cross-country by yourself, you felt yourself beginning to go crazy a few hours into the drive. As much as you loved your alone time, you also craved the company of others. Now that you had it, you weren’t sure how you were going to leave these guys once you found John. 

Dean turned in his seat to face Sam. “Alright, I figure we’d hit Tucumcari by lunch, then head south, hit Bisbee by midnight.” 

He didn’t respond.

“Sam wears women’s underwear.”

“I’ve been listenin’, I’m just busy,” he finally answered. 

“Busy doin’ what?” you placed your head on his shoulder over the top of the seat.

“Reading e-mails.” 

Dean had gotten out of the car and began pumping gas. “E-mails from who?”

“From my friends at Stanford.” Sam still seemed disinterested in conversation.

“You’re kidding. You still keep in touch with your college buddies?” Dean asked.

“Why not?” He still hadn’t turned his attention from his phone.

“Well, what exactly do you tell ‘em? You know, about where you’ve been, what you’ve been doin’?”

“I tell ‘em I’m on a road trip with my big brother. I tell ‘em I needed some time off after Jess.”

“And I couldn’t make my way into that lie?” you asked. 

“What do I tell ‘em, (Y/N/N)? That we picked up some chick in California and took her on the road with us?” he chuckled. “And I don’t lie to them. I just don’t tell ‘em… everything.”

“Yeah, that’s called lying,” you retorted. “I get it, though, the truth is much worse.”

“So, what am I supposed to do, just cut everybody out of my life?”

His older brother shrugged.

“You’re serious?” Sam wasn’t really asking.

“Look, it sucks, but in a job like this, you can’t get close to people, period,” Dean responded.

“How many friends do I have, Sam?” you asked him.

“Me.”

“Exactly,” you giggled.

“You two are kind of anti-social, you know that?” He returned to scrolling through his emails.

“Eh, whatever.” You flopped back on the bench seat.

“God….” Sam trailed off.

“What?” you and Dean asked.

“In this e-mail from this girl, Rebecca Warren, one of those friends of mine.”

“Is she hot?” 

You rolled your eyes. “Dean—” 

Sam ignored the two of you. “I went to school with her, and her brother, Zack. She says Zack’s been charged with murder. He’s been arrested for killing his girlfriend. Rebecca says he didn’t do it, but it sounds like the cops have a pretty good case.”

“Dude, what kind of people are you hangin’ out with?” his brother questioned.

“No, man, I know Zack. He’s no killer.”

“Well, maybe you know Zack as well as he knows you.”

“They’re in St. Louis. We’re goin’.”

“Look, sorry ‘bout your buddy, okay?” Dean chuckled humorlessly. “But this does not sound like our kind of problem.”

Sam wasn’t having it. “It is our problem. They’re my friends.”

“St. Louis is four hundred miles behind us, Sam.” Dean and Sam got into what you can only describe as a staring contest before Dean scoffed; seemingly admitting defeat. Next thing you knew, you were headed to St. Louis.

***

The massive door on the undoubtedly expensive house you’d arrived at opened to reveal a beautiful blonde girl. 

‘Damn all these pretty blonde bitches we keep running into,’ you thought.

“Oh my God, Sam!” she smiled, throwing her arms around her friend.

“Well, if it isn’t little Becky,” Sam jested.

“You know what you can do with that little Becky crap.”

“I got your e-mail.” His tone had become somber.

“I didn’t think that you would come here,” she answered earnestly.

Dean shoved in front of Sam. “Dean. Older brother.”

‘He’s making his fucking voice deeper again.’

She shook his hand. “Hi.”

“Hi,” she smiled back.

“We’re here to help. Whatever we can do.” You peeked out from behind Sam. “I’m (Y/N), by the way.”

“Nice to meet you!” You were only mildly annoyed by how wonderful her disposition was. “Come in.”

“Nice place,” Dean commented, taking in his grandiose surroundings.

“It’s my parents’. I was just crashing here for the long weekend when everything happened. I decided to take the semester off. I’m gonna stay until Zack’s free,” Becky explained.

“Where are your folks?” Sam asked.

“They live in Paris for half the year, so they’re on their way home now for the trial.”

‘Of course, they fucking do.’

“Do you guys want a beer or something?” she asked politely.

Dean obviously did, but his brother stopped him. “No, thanks. So, tell us what happened.”

“Well, um, Zack came home, and he found Emily tied to a chair. And she was beaten up and bloody, and she wasn’t breathing.” Becky began to cry. 

‘She’s even pretty when she cries.’

“So, he called 911, and the police— they showed up, and they arrested him. But, the thing is, the only way that Zack could’ve killed Emily is if he was in two places at the same time. The police—they have a video. It’s from the security tape from across the street. And it shows Zack coming home at 10:30. Now, Emily was killed just after that, but I swear, he was here with me, having a few beers until at least after midnight,” she relayed.

“You know, maybe we could see the crime scene. Zack’s house.”

“We could,” Dean agreed, but you could tell he still wasn’t picking up where Sam was going with this.

“Why? I mean, what could you do?” the blonde asked.

“Well, me, not much. But Dean’s a cop.” Sam patted his brother’s shoulder.

“Detective, actually,” Dean laughed.

“Really? Where?”

“Bisbee, Arizona. But I’m off-duty now.”

“You guys, it’s so nice to offer, but I just— I don’t know,” she said.

“Bec, look, I know Zack didn’t do this. Now, we have to find a way to prove that he’s innocent,” Sam replied.

“Okay. I’m gonna go get the keys.”

“Oh, yeah, man, you’re a real straight shooter with your friends,” Dean mocked after Becky had walked down the hall.

“Look, Zack and Becky need our help,” Sam responded.

“I just don’t think this is our kind of problem.”

“Two places at once? We’ve looked into less.”

Dean said nothing, clearly defeated.

***

“You’re sure this is okay?” Rebecca asked Dean as the four of you walked into Zack's house.

Dean clearly was having fun with the whole “cop” thing. “Yeah. I am an officer of the law.”

You hated how smug he could be. Rebecca came inside with you and informed you that Emily had let her attacker in. 

She then informed you about a recent incident that struck you as odd. “Um, there was something, about a week before. Somebody broke in here and stole some clothes— Zack’s clothes. The police— they don’t think it’s anything. I mean, we’re not that far from downtown. Sometimes people get robbed.” In the midst of her story, you could hear a dog barking angrily across the street. Dean peered out of the window, and Becca came up behind him. “You know, that used to be the sweetest dog.”

“What happened?” you asked her.

“He just changed.”

Dean turned over his shoulder to her. “Do you remember when he changed?”

“I guess around the time of the murder,” she shrugged. 

You found Sam staring at a picture of himself, another college-aged boy you assumed was Zack, and Rebecca that was framed in the hallway. 

Dean came up behind you soon after. “So, the neighbor’s dog went psycho right around the time Zack’s girlfriend was killed.”

“Animals can have a sharp sense of the paranormal,” Sam said.

“Yeah, maybe Fido saw somethin’.”

“So, you think maybe this is our kind of problem?”

“Yeah, prob—” you started, only to be cut off by Dean.

“No. Probably not. But we should look at the security tape, you know, just to make sure.”

You shot him a look. “The evidence is staring you in the face, and you still can’t admit you’re wrong.”

He shot a look back at you that said, ‘Don’t try me.’

Before you could push each other’s buttons any further, Rebecca came over to you, and Dean turned his attention to her. “So, the tape. The security footage— you think maybe your lawyers could get their hands on it, ‘cause I just don’t have that kind of jurisdiction.”

How Becky was buying into Dean’s lie, you had no idea. He was really laying it on thick.

“I’ve already got it. I didn’t wanna say something in front of the cop,” she giggled. “I stole it off the lawyer’s desk. I just had to see it for myself.”

The three of you went back to Becky’s parents’ home to review the security footage. It was of Zack entering his house, but a strange glint on the film caught your eye.

“22:04,” Dean noted the time stamp, “that’s just after ten. You said time of death was about 10:30.”

“Our lawyers hired some kind of video expert. He says the tape’s authentic. It wasn’t tampered with,” Becky added.

“Hey, Bec, can we take those beers now?” Sam asked. 

“Oh, sure,” she replied politely, turning to go to the kitchen.

“Maybe some sandwiches, too?” He was putting on the puppy dog eyes just a bit to convince her. 

“What do you think this is, Hooters?” she snarked.

“I wish,” Dean mumbled. 

“Can you focus, please?” you asked him.

“What are you, my mother?” Your banter was no longer filled with malice, just a hint of aggravation. 

“No, but frankly, the thought of you trying to bang someone makes me want to throw up in my mouth. I’d prefer not to watch it happen,” you replied playfully. “But look.” You rewound the tape an started it over. You caught the glint again, paused it, and realized Zack’s eyes were silver. “There!”

“Well, maybe it’s just a camera flare,” Dean shrugged.

“Does that look like any camera flare you’ve ever seen?” you asked rhetorically. 

He just looked away, defeated. 

“You know, a lot of cultures believe that a photograph can catch a glimpse of the soul,” Sam chimed in. “Remember that dog that was freaking out? Maybe he saw this thing. Maybe this is some kind of dark double of Zack’s, something that looks like him but isn’t him.”

“Like a Doppelganger?” Your brow knitted together, mind trying to wrap around what you were dealing with.

“Yeah. It’d sure explain how he was in two places at once,” Sam said.

Despite the luxurious villa Sam’s friend called home, the three of you didn’t want to intrude on her privacy; opting for yet another shitty motel. Something about this case was bugging you, though, and you tossed and turned all night thinking about it. And then, it hit you.

You pulled on your jacket and boots and rushed over to the boys’ room. A sleepy Dean answered the door. You hated to admit it, but he and his fluffy, mussed up hair were adorable when he’d just woken up.

“Morning, sunshine,” you grinned.

He scratched his head. “(Y/N), what the fu—”

“We have to get to Zack’s house. I just thought of something. “

Sam appeared behind Dean, already dressed. “Whatcha got?”

Dean stepped back from the door, letting you into the room. 

“We saw ‘Zack’ go in, but never saw the killer leave,” you explained. “But of course, we didn’t. Why would the cops be looking for that when they nabbed Zack in his house with his dead girlfriend?” 

Sam was with you, nodding his head.

“Did you have to realize that before five in the morning?” Dean yawned, pulling a pair of pants on.

“Sorry,” you replied sheepishly. “Couldn’t sleep. But I figured that out, so that’s all that matters.”

Dean shook his head and yawned again. “Sam, you’re driving. I might crash my baby if I drive right now.”

***

“He must’ve gone out the back door,” Sam said. You and the brothers were walking toward Zack’s house. “So, there should be a trail to follow. A trail the police would never pursue.”

“I still don’t know what we’re doin’ here at 5:30 in the morning,” Dean grumbled.

“C’mon,” you groaned, dragging his arm to follow Sam around the back of Zack’s house. Sure enough, there was a dried, dark red substance smeared on a nearby telephone pole.

“Blood. Somebody came this way,” Sam noted.

“Yeah, but the trail ends,” Dean added from a few paces ahead. “I don’t see anything over here.”

Just as he finished speaking, an ambulance drove past the house with its sirens wailing. You and Sam looked at each other before hurrying back to Dean’s car. Dean followed the ambulance to its destination where a man was handcuffed and being shoved into the back of a police car.

“What happened?” Dean asked a bystander.

“He tried to kill his wife,” she responded with a hand to her chest. “Tied her up and beat her.”

“Really?” you asked.

“I used to see him going to work in the morning. He’d wave, say hello. He seemed like such a nice guy.” She shook her head sorrowfully and watched as the police car drove away.

The three of you hung around the scene for a while until it had been completely cleared out. You regrouped while you snooped around.

“Remember when I said this wasn’t our kind of problem?” Dean asked as he approached you and Sam.

“Yeah,” his brother answered.

“Definitely our kind of problem.”

You gasped, feigning shock. “Mark it in the calendar, Dean Winchester admitted he was wrong!”

“Watch it, sweetheart,” he retorted.

“What’d you find out?” Sam asked.

“Well, I just talked to the patrolman who was first on the scene, heard this guy, Alex’s story. Apparently the dude was driving home from a business trip when his wife was attacked,” Dean explained.

“So, he was in two places at once, too.”

“Exactly. Then he sees himself in the house; police think he’s a nutjob.”

You paused for a moment, thinking. “You think it could be a shapeshifter?”

“Something that can make itself look like anyone? Sure,” Sam responded. “Every culture in the world has a shapeshifter lore. You know, legends of creatures who can transform themselves into animals or other men.”

“Right, skinwalkers, werewolves,” Dean added. “We’ve got two attacks within blocks of each other. I’m guessin’ we’ve got a shapeshifter prowlin’ the neighborhood.”

“Let me ask you this— in all this shapeshifter lore, can any of them fly?” the younger brother asked.

“Not that I know of.” You shook your head. “But someone ran out the back of his house and headed this way. And then… the trail just… ends. Just like at your friend’s house.” You gestured toward Sam.

“Well, there’s another way to go.” You followed Dean’s gaze down to a manhole.

“Ew, gross.” Your face scrunched up in disgust as Sam started to move the manhole cover. 

The three of you quickly climbed down so as to not be seen. 

“I bet this runs right by Zack’s house, too,” Sam said as the three of you made your way down the tunnel. “The shapeshifter could be using the sewer system to get around.”

You were leading the group, and stopped suddenly when you noticed a pile of blood and skin on the ground. “Blegh, look!”

“Is this from his victims?” Sam looked equally as disgusted.

Dean pulled out his pocket knife and lifted a piece of the skin off the ground. “You know, I just had a sick thought. When the shapeshifter changes shape, maybe it sheds.”

“That is sick,” you affirmed.

He dropped the skin back to the ground and turned to you to wipe his knife off on your jacket.

“Ew, dude!” you shoved his arm. “What the fuck?”

He just laughed in response.

You and the boys headed back up to the car to load up with some weapons.

“Well, one thing I learned from Dad—” Dean began, riffling through the weapons cavity, “—is that no matter what kind of shapeshifter it is, there’s one sure way to kill it.”

“Silver bullet to the heart,” you chimed in.

He nodded and handed you a case of the bullets. 

Sam’s cell phone rang. “This is Sam… We’re near Zack’s, we’re just checkin’ some things out… What are you talkin’ about?”

He seemed caught off-guard. You thought he was talking to Rebecca, but had no idea why she’d be upset with you. You eyed Dean who shrugged.

“Why would you do that?... Bec— We’re tryin’ to help… Bec, I’m sorry, but—” And then he clapped his phone shut, looking disappointed.

Dean found it an appropriate moment to be a bit of a dick. “I hate to say it, but that’s exactly what I’m talkin’ about. You lie to your friends because if they knew the real you, they’d be freaked. It’s just—it’d be easier if—”

“If I was like you guys,” he replied quietly. 

“Sam, I’m not trying to be heartless, but Dean’s kinda right.” Both brothers seemed surprised you were agreeing with Dean for once. “We’re not like other people.” 

“But I’ll tell you one thing.” Dean’s lighthearted tone was back. “This whole gig— it ain’t without perks.” He held out a gun to Sam, whose face was still crestfallen.

You followed Sam and Dean back down the manhole, gun loaded with silver bullets. You carried the case of bullets Dean handed to you in your inner jacket pocket; just in case. After a few minutes of trudging through toxic sludge with baited breath, you noticed another pile of blood and skin on a pipe next to Sam’s head. “I think we’re close to its lair,” you told them.

“Why do you say that?” Sam asked. 

“Because there’s another puke-inducing pile next to your face,” you snickered. 

“Oh, God!” His face scrunched up in disgust.

There was another pile of clothing and rotting skin a few paces ahead of you. 

“Looks like it’s lived here for a while,” you heard Dean say from behind you.

You turned to face him as you spoke. “Who knows how many murders he’s gotten away— Fuck, Dean!” you cried, seeing the shapeshifter in the form of its last victim behind him. 

Dean wheeled around, only to be knocked to the ground by the smirking creature. You and Sam rushed to his side as the creature sped off. 

“Get the son of a bitch!” Dean commanded. 

The three of you sped down the tunnel and followed him out of the manhole. You couldn’t see where exactly he ended up, and you decided to split up. 

Under the cover of night, you headed down streets and alleyways with your gun hidden inside your jacket. You came to a stop at a dead end and wheeled around at the sound of footsteps behind you. The shapeshifter, still in the form of the businessman, knocked you out cold before you were even able to raise your gun at him. 

***

The next time you came to, you felt itchy bits of rope binding your hands, feet, and neck to a cold, metal post behind you. As your vision began to clear, you could see you were in some kind of a dark, dingy room. It seemed like a house, but you weren’t entirely convinced. You heard what sounded like the older brother’s voice coming from behind you.

“Dean?” you called.

“(Y/N), it’s not—” Sam shouted, but cut himself off with a groan.

“Hiya, sweetheart,” he smirked, leaning down to your eye level. He put a hand next to your head on the post. 

You turned your face away from him, straining against the rope. He even smelled like Dean. 

“You are one fucking trainwreck,” he said, searching your face. 

You eyed him curiously. He just laughed coldly in response. “The more I learn about you, the more fucked up you get.”

“What do you mean ‘learn’?” 

As if on cue, the shapeshifter held a hand to his temple, grunting in pain. After a moment had passed, he spoke again. “You made a big mistake telling him— I mean, me— about what you did to your family. If I wasn’t ready to get rid of you before, I sure as hell am now. I hope you’re tellin’ the truth about leaving the second we find Dad, ‘cause I don’t know how much longer I can put up with you. God, from your voice to your personality, you aggravate the livin’ crap outta me.” The shapeshifter leaned back down in front of your face, the two of you only inches away from one another.

“You’re a burden, (Y/N). You’re exhausting to be around. I constantly have to keep my guard up around you. I can’t trust you, not after what you told me in Toledo. How do I know you won’t turn on me and Sammy?”

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you kept them at bay. You instead reared back as much as you could and spat in his face. You had taken him by surprise, but his hand was around your throat in an instant. His lips were inches away from your ear and he squeezed your neck just tight enough to where you were beginning to see stars. “You fucking bitch. Y’know, take your voice and personality away, Dean would definitely wanna fuck you. He thought you were hot the first time he met you. Then he actually got to know you, and, eh, things changed. But I’m sure he’d have tons of fun with Sam’s little friend Becky.” A wicked grin spread across his face. “I think I’ll go pay her a visit.”

He released your throat and you sputtered and coughed when he did. He covered you up with a tarp moments later. You felt pathetic, but you let your tears flow freely now that he was gone, wiggling around to get the tarp off your head. 

“(Y/N), are you back there?” Dean called from somewhere you couldn’t see. 

You knew he hadn’t said those hurtful things to you, but it was still difficult to hear his voice. “Yeah, yeah. I’m here.” Your voice was still shaky from crying. “He went to Rebecca’s, lookin’ like you.”

“Well, he’s not stupid. He picked the handsome one,” Dean gibed at his brother.

You admired his ability to keep his snarky attitude and stupid jokes despite his circumstances. His confidence bewildered you at times.

You pulled at the ropes binding your hands, hissing when you felt the rope creating angry brush burns on your wrists. 

“Yeah, that’s the thing. He didn’t just look like you, he was you. Or he was becoming you,” you heard Sam tell Dean.

“What do you mean?” the older brother asked.

“Yeah, it was like he was downloading your thoughts and memories,” you told him.

“You mean, like the Vulcan mind meld?” 

You giggled. “Somethin’ like that.”

“Maybe that’s why he doesn’t just kill us,” Sam added.

“Yeah, he probably needs to keep us alive. Some kind of psychic connection— ah,” you yelped at the feeling of the rope aggravating your wrists again. The shifter had bound you unbelievably tightly.

“(Y/N), stop, I’m coming to help you,” Dean instructed. 

“I’m a big girl,” you replied sassily. “I can do it.”

Dean had made his way over to you. “Do you have to fight me on everything?” He untied your hands with ease and began working on your neck. 

“Yes, but thank you,” you told him. You still couldn’t look him in the eyes after what the shifter had told you. You were doing your best to keep your exterior steely. You couldn’t deny, though, that his tight-fitting gray t-shirt over rippling muscle and the way he’d helped you were starting to break down your walls a little. 

“Come on, we gotta go,” you heard Sam order from behind you. “He’s probably at Rebecca’s already.”

Dean pushed a window out of the building you were kept in and the three of you climbed out. 

Sam started down the street. “Come on. We gotta find a phone, call the police.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Dean stopped him. “You’re gonna put an APB out on me.”

His brother shrugged. “Sorry.”

“This way.” Dean led the three of you down the street. You ran shielded by the darkness until you reached a store window. There was a display wall of televisions in it, and the news was on. Conveniently, Dean was the breaking news.

“An anonymous tip led police to a home in the Central West End—” the reporter stated, “—where a S.W.A.T team discovered a local woman bound and gagged. Her attacker, a white male, approximately twenty-four to thirty years of age, was discovered hiding in her home.”

Of course, Dean’s attitude was unwavering. “Man! That’s not even a good picture.”

You looked around nervously. 

“It’s good enough,” Sam said.

“Man!” Dean grumbled, following Sam down the street to an alleyway. 

“They said attempted murder,” you pointed out. “At least we know—”

“I didn’t kill her.”

You nodded.

“We’ll check with Rebecca in the morning, see if she’s all right,” Sam said, looking over his shoulder.

“Alright, but first I wanna find that handsome devil and kick the holy crap out of him.” 

‘He’s still as arrogant as ever.’

“We have no weapons, though. No silver bullets,” you countered. 

“Sweetheart, the guy’s walkin’ around with my face, okay, it’s a little personal, I wanna find him.” He turned to face you, but you couldn’t meet his eyes.

“I get it. We need guns, though.”

“The car?” Sam threw in. 

“I’m bettin’ he drove over to Rebecca’s.��� Dean’s face began to heat up. You knew he was thinking about his precious Impala.

“The news said he fled on foot. I bet it’s still parked there.”

“The thought of him drivin’ my car—” he whined.

You shook your head. “Come on.”

“It’s killin’ me,” Dean whined again.

“Let it go,” you and Sam commanded over your shoulders.

The three of you rounded the corner along a tall hedge only to be greeted by the sight of the car.

“Oh, there she is! Finally, something went right tonight.” Dean’s joy was almost contagious.

His stupor was broken by a police car appearing down Rebecca’s street and blocking the end of the road. 

“Fuck.” You spun around the way you came, but another cop car appeared back down that street, too. 

“This way, this way,” Dean began leading you over to a fence and easily climbed atop it. 

“You guys go. I’ll hold ‘em off,” Sam told you.

“What are you talking about? They’ll catch you.” Dean turned into a seated position on top the fence.

“Look, they can’t hold me. Just go, keep out of sight. Meet me at Rebecca’s,” Sam quickly spoke. 

You and Dean hopped over multiple fences, fatiguing your limbs quickly. Several blocks from where you and the boys had run into the cops, the two of you stopped to catch your breath. You sat down on a street corner and tucked your knees into your chest.

Dean sat beside you. “What did he say to you?”

You turned to him. “Huh?”

“The shifter. What’d he say to you?”

You shook your head. “Nothing, it’s fine—”

“(Y/N), you haven’t looked at me once since we left that thing’s hideout. Tell me what he said.”

“Why can’t you drop it?” you spat, looking down at your boots.

“Because,” he protested. “I gave you a chance to explain in Toledo. At the very least, you owe me that.”

You sighed. “He said you think I’m annoying. And, um, a burden. He said you’re trying to find your dad so quick to get rid of me. And that you can’t trust me because of what I did to my family.”

Dean was silent for a moment. “Anything else?”

“He said everything about me aggravates you and that I exhaust you.”

He nodded. “Do you really believe that?” You could feel his gaze burning holes into the side of your face.

“I don’t know,” you answered honestly. “You haven’t exactly proven otherwise to me.” You looked up at him for the first time in hours.

He seemed surprised by that answer.

“Don’t look at me like that. Aside from Toledo and a few seconds on that plane, all we’ve ever done is fight,” you reminded him.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” A few moments of silence passed before he spoke again. “But I don’t think those things about you. Honest.”

“I feel like I’m pulling teeth here, Dean,” you remarked. “What do you think of me?”

“I mean, you can be annoying.”

You scoffed, but a smile tugged at your lips. 

“And you’re way too stubborn.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “And so are you.”

“And you’re too smart for your own good.”

“I wouldn’t say that…”

“Would you let me finish?” he deadpanned.

You took a deep breath. “Yeah, sorry.”

“You just… you intimidate me a little, honestly.” Now Dean was the one who couldn’t look at you.

You were shocked. “Really? Why?”

“Dammit, (Y/N), I’m not good at this,” he sighed. “I know you heard what I said to Haley about that being the most honest I’ve ever been with a woman.”

You giggled at the memory.

“This tops that by far,” he admitted.

You nodded. You’d have this conversation another time. You rose to your feet, and he followed suit. 

“Can we start over?” you asked him.

He eyed you curiously.

“As… acquaintances, I mean,” you explained. “We’re no closer to finding your dad than we were the day I met you, so I imagine I’ll be around for a little while longer. I’d rather us not fight the whole time. It’s getting exhausting, if I’m being honest.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, I guess we can do that.”

“Okay, then.” You cleared your throat and stuck out your hand. “Hi. I’m (Y/N).”

Dean shook his head at your antics despite the smile pulling on his lips. “Dean.” This time, he actually shook your hand.

***

Later that morning, you and Dean had returned to the car for weapons. Thankfully, Dean still had some silver bullets left in the trunk. With guns in hand, the two of you headed back to the sewers. A few minutes into your walk, you came across a rancid pile of flesh, teeth, and fingernails.

“I think I’m gonna be sick.” Your face contorted in disgust. You looked up when you heard a rustling noise a little down the tunnel. You could see a dim glow from the place you’d heard the rustling. You tightened your grip on your gun and let Dean lead the way into the chamber. He nodded his head in the direction of the left side of a figure covered in a tarp at the back end of the chamber, indicating for you to go that way. You followed his instruction and crept up on the figure with him. He pulled the sheet away from the figure, only to reveal Rebecca.

“What happened?” you asked her. Her hands and feet were bound, her mouth was gagged, her hair was a mess, and her skin was littered with bruising and cuts. 

She was still shaking and crying as she spoke. “I was walking home, and everything just went white. Someone hit me over the head, and I wound up here just in time to see that thing turn into me. I don’t know, how is that even possible?”

“Okay, okay. It’s okay,” Dean told her. 

The two of you untied her and made sure she was able to walk before guiding her out of the sewers.

“We’ve gotta hurry,” Dean said. “Sam went to see you.”

When you got to Rebecca’s house, all you could hear was the grunting, furniture breaking, skin hitting skin, and bones cracking coming from the living room. And then, choking. You had no doubt it was Sam.

Dean seemed to pick up on that as well. He hurried into the den, shouting, “Hey!”

The shifter spotted Dean and got off of Sam. Dean shot twice, and with that, the shifter was dead. 

You rushed over to Sam and cradled his head in your lap. “Are you okay?” you asked him. 

He smiled painfully at you. “Peachy.”

You giggled at him. You looked up at Dean standing over… Dean… and watched as he ripped his necklace off the shifter.

You watched Rebecca say goodbye to Sam, and she waved at you and Dean who stood by the Impala. She turned to go back inside her house.

Sam approached the two of you.

“So, what about your friend, Zack?” Dean asked his brother.

“Cops are blamin’ this Dean Winchester guy for Emily’s murder,” Sam jested. “They found the murder weapon in the guy’s lair, Zack’s clothes stained with her blood. Now they’re thinking maybe the surveillance tape was tampered with. Yeah, Becca says Zack will be released soon.” 

You giggled. Dean just rolled his eyes. 

“Get in the car, (Y/N),” he chastised you. For the first time since you met him, you knew he wasn’t trying to tear you down. It was refreshing to have an amicable relationship with him.

As Dean tore down the road, he turned to his brother. “Sorry, man.”

“About what?”

“I really wish things could be different, you know?” the older brother said earnestly. “I wish you could just be… Joe College.”

“No, that’s okay. You know, the truth is, even at Stanford, deep down, I never really fit in,” Sam admitted.

“Well, that’s ‘cause you’re a freak,” Dean quipped.

You loved earnest moments between the two brothers. It made you feel normal; in a weird way.

“Yeah, thanks,” Sam said dryly.

“Well, I’m a freak, too. I’m right there with ya, all the way.”

“Yeah, I know you are.” Sam’s voice softened.

“You know, I gotta say. I’m sorry I’m gonna miss it.” 

You felt one of Dean’s stupid jokes coming on. “Oh, here we go.”

He eyed you in the rearview mirror. 

“Miss what?” Sam asked.

“How many chances am I gonna have to see my own funeral?” Dean smirked.

You shook your head. “And there it is.”

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #supernatural series rewrite #spn series rewrite

[trashmouth-richie]

Okay so

Choke Me Bite Me has made me feral

I’m thinking about the next part…maybe some smutty angst where Eddie’s girlfriend catches him and Reader, or he calls out Reader’s name while sleeping with his girlfriend? And she makes him choose? Up to you who he chooses…feel free to go full angst.

Xoxoxoxoxo, @munson-blurbs 💚

CHOKE ME BITE ME | part ii | for reference

this will be the last for this ask/ mini series 😘 thank you for all the love ❤️ 💋 thank you to @lunatictardis for the req that started this 💕💕

eddie x female!reader

w.c 3.2k

warnings: NO MINORS, p in v unprotected sex, cheating, drug use. etc

Over the past few weeks Eddie had been acting stranger than usual. Someone who was once a leader among younger misfits of Hawkins, was now nowhere to be found. His seat at lunch would be empty for days, only to be seen rushing in at the last minute to eat a few pretzels and steal Dustin’s hat, or to tease Mike about his supposed California “girlfriend”. Other days he would go missing for lunch and half of his classes, which for him, was not uncommon, but coming back to class with his hair in a low bun, cheeks flushed and sweaty, was. He even started canceling Hellfire or moving it entirely at the last minute, claiming he wasn’t prepared or that Wayne needed him.

The boys of Hellfire grew suspicious of their leather and denim adorned Dungeon Master, “He’s gotta have a girlfriend.” Mike squeaked, the effects of puberty still hitting even though he was the tallest of the nerds.

“He’s had a girlfriend for a long time, dumbass.” Gareth sneers, “How the fuck have you not noticed?”

“Fuck I don’t know! He never talks about her!”

Dustin, easily the smartest of the group, chimes in, “Actually, that’s a good point.. he doesn’t talk about her… at all.”

“Last I heard, she was fucking around on him, I heard her talking about it with Chrissy Cunningham during Biology a few weeks ago. I told him but he didn’t seem to give a shit.” Jeff shrugs, shoveling in a heap of chewy canned corn. “You know how he is.”

The rest of the boys nodded in agreement, brushing it off their shoulders as they planned how they were going to beat Eddie’s next campaign, if he didn’t cancel, again.

“Christ, mmm are you sure no one’s going to come in and see us, you almost got us caught last time.”

“Nice try princess, you almost got us caught cause of that fucking whore mouth you have… fuck.”

“Not my fault you can’t keep your mouth shut when your dick is in my throat.”

The hellfire room echos with your combined moans as Eddie pumps harder into you harder, ass hanging off the table, he’s rubbing your clit as you clench around him. Sweat is dripping from his thick tufts of hair as he rolls his eyes into the back of his skull— full demon mode as he claws at your hip with his other hand.

Since Eddie brought you to school that day after date crashing, and vandalizing Andy’s car, you had both been skipping class to— explore the inner walls of Hawkins— or for lack of better words, fuck in any empty room you could get to first. So far the broom closet across from Ms. O’Donnell’s, the Hellfire room (Eddie’s personal favorite) , the band room, the wood shop shack, the dugouts by the baseball fields and the picnic table in the woods: had all been defiled by you and Eddie.

“I swear you get tighter every time we fuck,” Eddie groans as you writhe beneath him, grabbing him by the thins of his shirt collar to look him in the dark glassy pits of his eyes while you moaned into his mouth and come all over his cock. “Thassit pretty girl, fuck you’re so fucking hot, so perfect— letting me fuck you allover this goddamn school, I’m coming fuck fuck fuck.” He comes undone, shivering and bucking his hips harder with every shooting release his body produces. He collapses halfway on top of you, causing the cheap table to groan and buckle beneath your combined weight, crashing to the floor with Eddie’s dick still buried inside of you.

The shock wears off and you’re both hysterically laughing, your laughter pushes his softening length out of you along with your combined come, oozing out of your pussy and all over the floor like pearly melted ice cream treat. “Don’t think I’ve ever broken a table from fucking before.”

“What can I say, I’m just that good,” you say with a wink as you button up your blouse, fixing your hair and blotting your mascara ran eyes.

Eddie couldn’t deny you anymore. He had been putting on this hard ass facade for a while now, but every now and then he would slip up, telling you how pretty you were, bringing you back to his place and holding you while you both slept after the usual hookup and joint. With all the time you had been spending together, you wondered if they were even together anymore. You never mentioned him to her. Never treading towards that car wreck of a relationship. He didn’t seem nearly as frustrated and pissed off as he did when this situation first started. In fact, the sex was almost sweet at times, blaming it on the weed as Eddie would bottom out into your pussy, holding your hands above your head and kissing you sloppy, his hips rolling slow in tandem with the low rumblings of “Free Bird” playing in the background, singing into your ear as he fucked into you slow.

Tucking himself back into his jeans, your come still sticky sweet on his cock, he smirks, “yeah, you’re something all right.”

The jingle of a key in the door has you both on alert, pulling Eddie out of the blissful limbo of wondering if you’re just fuck buddies or a little something more. He helps you to your feet and holds your hand tight, yanking you towards the back door leading to outside. You're both laughing as you run to the picnic table in the woods, grabbing your hand tighter, filling his lungs with fresh air, coughing from the years of lung abuse. A blush pricks its way across his cheeks as he looks down at you. Your smile will end up killing him, he’s certain of that. The ache in his heart subsides when he sees it. Like all the bullshit she puts him through doesn’t matter. Because he has you.

She had been noticing Eddie’s lack of attendance, not that she cared. Even though she didn’t sit with him and his band of freaks at lunch, she couldn't help but distinguish between the now quietness of the cafeteria and Eddie’s normal prancing around like a lunatic, blurting the conformities of the world for all of his very much uninterested peers to hear. Being with him was suffocating. Clutching the air from her perfect image and tarnishing her brand of Hawkins High elite. She allowed their time to be spent together at his place rather than hers, not wanting to taint her family name by having that garbage pile on wheels parked outside the trim and poised bushes of the monstrous house in the newer golf course addition to Hawkins. He didn’t understand what the big deal was, why she thought it was important or even fucking cared at all.

“So you’re embarrassed to be with me?” He’d whine. She so badly wanted to say yes, but clung on to their relationship as a backup…mostly for the free weed. Okay only for the free weed. Sometimes sacrifice was necessary get what you actually wanted. And for that, she would sacrifice herself and lie through her teeth to get what she desired— but what she wanted, wasn’t Eddie.

She was in love with him, or at least she thought she was early on in their relationship. Hooking up after stumbling into the Hideout on a Tuesday night in the summer after a birthday party for Chrissy landed them a ride to the bar and free drinks from the bartender she had been flirting with all night. Eddie was singing that night, sweaty and shirtless. Hair soaked down to his shoulders as he sang and winked towards her. She thought he was in college, home for the summer, playing with his band, working on the side, she was astonished to find out that he was twenty and still in high school, her high school. Eddie had fallen head over heels for her, excited that someone, anyone, would give him the time of day. He was oblivious to her wandering eyes, the way guys would snicker and wink at her whenever they were near. Even missing her crude hand and mouth gestures she made to the jocks on the football team. He was so blissfully unaware, and she used it to her advantage.

He had caught her, she didn’t know it, but he had seen her cheating. He decided to show up to her house on her birthday, a dozen roses tucked under his arm and a pretty heart necklace wrapped in gold paper he had seen at the jewelry store in star court mall. He had spent two weeks worth of dealings to afford it, only for her to be kissing Jason Carver on her front porch. The following night you had been working at Melvald’s when he came stomping in, searching for batteries for his Walkman. You had seen him around school, heard the rumors about him being a vessel for satan. But nothing would prepare you for the pool of wetness in your panties when he smooth-talked you into meeting him out back after your shift for a smoke. That night you were both high out of your minds, lazily shotgunning one another as Eddie pounded into you from behind in his van. Releasing all his pent up anger from seeing her with Jason the previous night. You were his outlet, he had made it clear to you that this was strictly fooling around, nothing more, and to never, under any circumstances were you allowed to talk about her.

That was almost two months ago, and although you promised yourself you wouldn’t, begged yourself not to care about him, to move on from him— you simply couldn’t. You craved him when he wasn’t around, needed him when you had a bad day. What started off as a fling was currently erupting into nights of late night talking, spending more time at Eddie’s house than you did at your own, even meeting his uncle on accident when Eddie started undressing himself and you, shucking his jacket to the ground and toeing off his Reeboks, when he backed himself into the front door of the trailer, a stunned Wayne sitting at the kitchen table, clearing his throat from behind a cup of coffee. But he was still with her.

One night, crowded around the small pea green table finishing their supper, Wayne clears his throat, swallowing the last bits of his tv dinner, “So what happened to ol’ uh whatshername?” Wiping his graying mustache with the back of his hand, rolling his eyes as Eddie stares at him with a confused look on his face, one eyebrow curled up, the other shoved high into his fringe. “Don't’ play stupid with me, boy, your girlfriend.” Wayne grunts.

“Oh.. uh— well we’re still together, why? Gossip not cutting it at the plant, need some entertainment?” Eddie sneers, putting up his walls of defense so quick they practically shook the foundation of the fragile decaying trailer.

“As much as I love not seeing her scowling face around here, was just curious as to why she ain’t, and why you try to sneak y/n out of here in the mornings when you think I’m asleep.”

Eddie’s face pales, running a hand down his face he sinks lower into his chair. “I don’t know what to do.” He groans, talking behind his hands.

“Boy, I know that skull of yours is thicker than concrete, but I never figured you’d be that damn dumb.”

“Hey!” Eddie protests, “it’s not that easy! She was the first girl ever to notice me!”

“It is that easy, you’re just not paying attention, ain’t never seen you smile more than when y/n is around. That other snooty rich bitch used hand sanitizer every time she touched something here. Drove me nuts watching her turn her nose up to you, to this place. Her heart ain’t in it son, and quite frankly it never was,” he stands from the table, throwing away the paper formed sectioned out plate and puts the fork in the sink, rubbing his hands along the fraying towel hung from the stove, “sometimes you gotta open your eyes a little bit and see who makes you happy, who you actually like spendin’ time with.” He tucks his head beneath a worn ball cap and waves bye as he steps out of the trailer, leaving a dumbfounded Eddie staring holes into the cold mashed potatoes. A decision pressed along the inner workings of his mind.

“Jesus Christ,” Gareth points across the dim lit parking lot, laughing as the shadows of Eddie’s van rocks back and forth.

“You know what they say, when the van’s a rockin’ don’t come knockin” Jeff explains, wiping the last bit of Coke off his chin. “Told you he had a girlfriend, Mike!”

Hellfire had just gotten over and the party was heading to their vehicles. The late spring air was chilly as a light breeze picked up, scattering trash along the black asphalt of the parking lot in a sad tango.

“Shit, guess he did have something better to do.” Mike says with a laugh, high fiving Dustin and Lucas. A car pulls into the parking lot, parking right behind Eddie’s van.

“Wait isn’t that…”

“No fucking way!”

Stepping out of the car was Eddie’s girlfriend, fuming pissed as she knocked and banged on the windows.

“Oh shit, oh shit!” Gareth yells as he runs towards Eddie’s van. “Let’s go!” he yells over his shoulder, summoning the rest of Hellfire to help out their devoted DM.

A note taped to the inside of your locker meant one thing, Eddie. He knew your locker combination and would frequently leave you locations and times on where to meet. But this note was different: “meet me at 6 o’clock in the parking lot by my van. 🖤” Your stomach fluttered at the sight of it, clutching the note to your chest you thought about it for the next three hours.

The van was set up with your favorite snacks, camping lanterns he “borrowed” from his neighbors, pillows, blankets, and of course a few joints he had rolled previously. He was standing against the opened back door to the van, holding flowers and that signature grin.

“What’s all this?” You ask, eyes wet with tears, your smile breaking from ear to ear. The beautiful petals from the flowers curling against your fingers as you touched them delicately.

Eddie grabs you by the waist, his hand dragging up your body lazily, stroking your cheek, “just thought we could do something different tonight… before we go any further I need to tell you— I’m ending it with her.”

Your heart skips a beat, “w-why is that?”

His hand grazes your chin, lifting it up higher revealing the slope of your neck. He slotted his lips against you, licking slow and lightly nipping his teeth into your soft flesh. “Oh I think you know why, baby.”

“I do, but I want you to say it,” you tease, twirling your fingers through his hair as you try to stifle a moan.

Eddie grins against your neck, licking a strip up to your ear, whispering, “I want you, and only you.” He pulls away and looks deep into your eyes, “you make me happier than I’ve ever been, I feel like I can be myself with you… I’m so into you baby.”

Your heart sings, you throw your arms around Eddie’s neck, pressing your lips to his, murmuring between kisses, “I’m yours.”

He picks you up delicately, bringing you inside the van and laying you down softly against the pillows. Shutting the door, Eddie peels his clothes off, eyeing you with sweet eyes of honey flecked brown as you undress. He presses his body into yours, kissing you slow and sweet, savoring this moment, wishing he had always taken his time with you. Soaking in every kiss, every lick of your skin, the soft moans you hummed out beneath him as you were finally his. “Should have made you mine the minute I saw you behind that counter at Melvald’s. You looked so cute, and I was so miserable.” He noses his way through the valley of your tits, suckling on your nipples as your back arches up, thrusting yourself up into his mouth.

“It’s okay, Eddie,” you moaned in the comfort of the van, “we’re together now… and I need you.” Your pussy aching to be filled.

He wastes no time, throwing your legs around his waist as he unzips his jeans, spitting on your naked pussy and rubbing his cock through your dripping folds. He pumps into you slow, kissing you deeply as he mutters swears against your lips. “I’m down bad for you sweetheart,” he admits, thrusting his hips into you, reveling in the eyes you gasp as he pushes in deeper, “you have no idea.”

You claw at his back, fingers digging into the softness of his skin, rippling across his muscled form. Finally able to mark him up without any restraints, he moans into your opened mouth. He pumps into you harder, rubbing your clit with one hand as the van is rocking back to forth. Sweat is pouring from your bodies, fogging up the windows, and dripping onto the blankets. Headlights glare against the back windows as Eddie pounds into you deeper, you’re whining beneath him, begging and clawing at his shoulders, crying from the beautiful pleasure filling you up, cusping your g spot as Eddie raises your leg over his shoulder, using your hips to grip onto.

A bang on the window has you both stopping dead. Nothing but bated breath and your heart beats heard as you listen. High pitched screaming is breaking against the balance from beyond the metal doors, it’s her.

The Hellfire boys make it to Eddie’s van just in time to stop her from throwing open the doors, or so they thought.

The doors open revealing Eddie’s bare ass for all of Hawkins to see, he throws the blankets over you covering your naked body. He swivels slowly to face her.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” she screams as she slaps and hits him on his naked chest, a pillow covering his groin. “You're cheating on me?!”

“Aww, you thought you were the only one fucking around on this relationship?” he scoffs, “tell me how long have you been fucking Jason behind Chrissy’s back?”

“That’s none of your business!” She seethes.

“You’re right, it’s not, we’re done. fuck off. Oh and don’t worry, I made sure to tell Chrissy about your and Jason’s little rendezvous.”

She stomps back to her car screaming with rage as she pushes Mike out of the way. Tires squealing as she leaves the parking lot.

“Y/N?” Dustin asks, peering around Eddie.

“Hey,” you wave, covering yourself up more as you scan the van for your clothes.

“Wait, you know him?” Eddie asks, sitting down next to you and slithering beneath the blankets, pecking your shoulder as he wraps his arms around you.

“Yeah, I do but maybe we can play detective after we’re not naked in the school parking lot.”

“Oh right, hey get out of here you little pervs! Quit trying to look at my girl!”

You would think about those two little words rolling so easily off his tongue for hours. Wrapped in Eddie’s arms, wearing his shirt as you sleep peacefully in his bed, finally as his girl.

a/n: this was so fun to write, hope I ended it the way you had all hoped. I didn’t want to give Eddie’s gf a name figuring she would be best to just be imagined however you as a reader would think of her. if you liked this—please comment your favorite part of this little ask turned mini series—I’m currently taking reqs for specific stories only, the link is in my master list 💋 thank you to everyone for leaving your feedback 🤎

tagged: @sidthedollface2

@dontwasteyourchances @tlclick73 @eddie-swhore @sinczir @alexiatheheroic @sh-el67 @lolalanaie

{if you’re tagged but didn’t get a mention notification, I tried to tag you but I think I saw someone post that it’s a settings issue on your blog}

#eddie munson angst #eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie smut #eddie angst #eddie fluff #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x y/n

[lighteyed]

driving miss mayfield

steve harrington x fem mayfield!reader

[5.8k] steve gives you driving lessons, max gives you heat, you give yourself no time to daydream.

disclaimer- no mention of blood relation to max, no physical descriptors of reader, they are sisters in any way you want them to be.

     “What do you mean you don’t know how to drive?” The disbelief in his words is almost as emphatic as the annoyance in yours, but he seems to be more disbelieving than you are annoyed at him, who could ever really be annoyed at him, so you let Steve gape at you and blink rapidly instead of telling him to mind his business.

   You slurp down the rest of your soda from the general store in his passenger seat, shrugging, fighting to push down that urge to snap. Mayfield girls, you, Max, your mother when she wasn’t bogged down by a soul-sucking man-leech draining her lifeforce from her right before your eyes, had a less than lovely temper most of the time, and you tried very  hard to keep it contained, especially around people who didn’t deserve it. It just felt like a ridiculous question. “I mean, why do you think I’m stuck drivin’ with Billy half the time? You think I get in that car willingly? You think Max gets in that car willingly?”  You shake your head. “No way. If I had a license I would’ve been, like, halfway back to California the second you people started dragging me and Max into your science fiction monster crap.”

    “As if she woulda let you,” Steve scoffs with a similar head shake, a lock of his hair falling nicely into place in the middle of his forehead. He swipes at it quickly. He has this ridiculous urge to never be anything less than perfect in front of you, you, who is perfect without effort, leading him to put even more effort into holding up this front for himself. “Besides, you’d miss this pretty face, right?” He points to himself, smiles, and waits for you to laugh. You do. It makes his heart constrict.

   “Think you’d miss my pretty face, actually,” you snort, shoving your now empty shake in the cupholder.

    “Yeah, I would,” he teases, just a little, just enough to make further attempts at breaking all that ice you’ve got protecting you, and he swears, he sees it crack the slightest amount, even though you don’t answer. You smile and stare down at your hands in your lap, twisting a mood ring around your finger and making sure you don’t look at him. He’ll take what he can get. “Well, anyhow,” he says, dramatically blowing air out of his mouth, the subject change swift and, in his opinion, a flawless execution, “I can’t in good conscience let you keep driving with him.”

    “You already drive me and Max and all her friends everywhere, you don’t have to do anything else.” You don’t like being indebted to anyone. Even if it’s Steve, who insists on picking you up for school in the mornings and dropping you off in the afternoons and, if he’s free, taking you anywhere else you need to go. And he usually is free, because you, and the group of middle schoolers (almost high schoolers, to be fair) he’s adopted since he protected them from Billy and the Demodogs and the whole Mind Flayer debacle (you’re still fuzzy on the details, honestly) a few months ago,  are his only friends nowadays, so it’s not like his schedule is packed and there’s no room to fit you in there. There’s more than enough room. If there wasn’t, he’d make it so. You both knew that.

    “I love driving you,” he insists. “But the thing is, my dad’s cutting me off.”

    “He’s what?”

    “Like, you know, he’s gonna stop paying for my shit. I’m not goin’ to college and he thinks I’m a useless sack of nothing-“

   “You are not a useless sack of nothing-“

   “You tell that to him-“

   “Take me there right now and I will-“

    “Alright, alright, easy.” As much as he’d love to see you go toe to toe with his dad, and you’d be able to, he’s sure, he doesn’t want to talk about it any further than the basic facts of the situation. He’s not going to college therefore his dad has no reason to pay for anything he does anymore. His car insurance is his responsibility now, anything else he needs is up to him to to get, food, clothes, gas, if he has to go to the hospital he’s sure his dad would shove the medical bills onto him, too. He was like that, unfortunately for Steve. But it was one thing he could relate to you on. You had him slightly beat, though. You had two dads to complain about, both terrible in their own ways. Sam Mayfield: emotionally distant, didn’t bother to call, didn’t ask you to visit, too busy when you lived with him to spend any time with you anyway. And then, of course, there was Neil Hargrove: controlling, abusive, cold Neil Hargrove. How he’d charmed your mother into marrying him was a mystery to you and to Max, but you supposed, for as much as you loved her on principle because she was your mother and you pitied her and looked up to her all the same, she was easily charmed by men. It killed you a little more every time it happened, but this was the first time she’d actually brought him into your family, integrating them together in a way she thought would be seamless, but you and Max despised your stepbrother and he despised you both right back. “Point is, I’m gonna have to get a job, probably at that new mall they’re opening up-“

   “Oh the horror-“ you feign a hand over your forehead and slump back in your seat- “Rich pretty boy Steve Harrington doing labor, at the fancy new mall, with those soft delicate hands of yours, whatever will you do-“

   “Shut it,”  he warns, but there’s a grin on his face anyway. “You just admitted I’m pretty, by the way.” He continues before you can dispute his claims. “I’m not gonna be around as much. So you need your license. Unless you wanna be stuck with Billy yelling in your ear all day long.” He pauses, thinking. “Which might make me kill him. So, actually, unless you want me to murder him in cold blood-”

   “Please? I’m begging at this point,” you joke back.

   “Let me get a word in would you?” He laughs and it sounds like music to you. You keep it to yourself. “I want you to be okay on your own. I don’t want him, y’know, hurting you guys, okay? So you need your license.” His words and his eyes go lovely and soft, all rounded ages, nothing jagged about them, just pure, undulated care and affection.

    It makes you soften, too. You spend a lot of time looking after Max, it hits you hard when someone takes the time to look after you, too. “I don’t know, Steve, I wouldn’t be getting a car right after or anything, my job doesn’t pay enough, and we can just take the bus or something. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

   ‘I’m teaching you to drive, and you can take my car wherever you need to go. I’ll come pick you up, we’ll go on over to wherever I’m working, drop me off, and then you go wherever you need to go and come back in time to pick me up.” He says it so easily, as if it’s the most obvious answer to your problems in the world. He doesn’t even fathom how much it means to you.

   “You’d let me drive this?” You brace both your hands on the dashboard, your turn to stare at him in incredulity. His car is nice. It’s beautiful, really, and you don’t know much about cars. It’s classic and shiny and new. And expensive. Expensive being the operative word. Billy’s car is nice, too, and it’s about the only thing he takes care of other than his physique, which he thinks about obsessively, but you don’t think it’s anywhere as nice as Steve’s. Not in your opinion, anyway. The fact that Steve is nicer in personality (and looks, quite frankly) might make you biased, though. “I can’t afford to replace anything if I scratch it or crash it or if it explodes.”

   “You won’t scratch, crash, or explode it, you’re gonna be learning from the best.”

   “And who would that be?”

   “Me, obviously. Welcome to your first driving lesson, I’ll be your instructor, Mr. Harrington, thank you for joining us Miss Mayfield.” He tips an imaginary hat toward you. You’re not sure what driving instructors wear hats but you let him have his fantasy anyway.

   “Right now?” You can barely process what’s happening before he’s popping open his door, lanky legs sliding right out. He raps the hood of the car with his knuckles, ducking his head inside to look at you.

   “Yes, right now, Mayfield, no time like the present.” He comes around to the side you’re on and opens door for you, ushering you out. He holds your hand to help you out of the car, entirely unnecessary but a smooth move nonetheless, and your hands fit together in a way that makes him want to keep them clasped like that forever. He ushers you into the driver’s seat with a quickness that almost gives you whiplash.

    Your hands prop up on the wheel, uneasy. Your palms start to sweat. “I don’t like this,” you tell him. You take your hands off and wipe them on your jeans. They immediately dampen again. You’re afraid of leaving sweat prints all over his wheel and leaving a car-shaped hole in the side of the now abandoned Benny’s Burgers, the parking lot almost empty, save for the car that you are now responsible for. It’s eight o’clock on a school and work night, so naturally no one else was around and Hawkins may as well have been asleep.

   “You haven’t even attempted to drive yet.”

   “My hands keep slipping off the wheel,” you grasp for his hand and press yours against it, raising your eyebrows. “Do you feel the sweat?”

   “Jesus, yeah.” He squeezes your hand with encouragement anyway. “You don’t have to be scared. I’m a much nicer driving teacher than anyone you could hire at the school. You’re in good hands. Great hands. The best ones. Perfect, amazing hands.”

    Your eyes flick down to Steve’s hands. You have to agree. “I don’t even have a permit. You could get in trouble.”

    “By who? Chief Hopper? Officer Callahan?” He nearly cackles at the notion. “You’ll be fine, don’t sweat it.”

    “Bad choice of words.”

    “Enough stalling, let’s get to the lesson.” He claps his hands together. His face retains a serious, focused quality to it. It’s very handsome (he’s always handsome and it kills you a little because you don’t have time to daydream). “Alright, hands here, and here,” he taps the wheel to show you the correct position. He thinks he might die if you connect your hands again. “That’s called the 10 and 2 position.”

    “Why’s it called that?”

    “I don’t know, it just is, doesn’t matter, that’s where they go so you have the best control for making turns and steering.” You do as he says. “Okay, so now, you have to relax.”

    “Girls love hearing that, Steve,” you grind your teeth.

    But your rigidity and discomfort is obvious, especially to you, and you know it can’t be natural to drive all scrunched up and tense like this. “You’ll be fine. You can’t be all stiff if you ever want to get comfortable doing this.”

    “But I’m not comfortable.”

    “Hence why we’re doing this, yeah?’

   “I thought we were doing this so me and Billy don’t strangle each other.”

    “That too. Can’t have my only friend dead. Then I’ll be stuck with all the kids by myself.”

   “Can’t leave Max alone, either,” you say, more to yourself than to him. You think about her most of all. While you spend all this time with Steve, you worry over her all the time. You constantly check in to make sure she doesn’t feel left out. You fret about her being left alone with Billy. She occupies almost all of your thoughts.

   “Never,” he agrees, even if you weren’t talking to him. You give him a thankful smile. His heart almost stops but he clears his throat to snap himself out of it. “Okay, now, let’s turn the key, turn the car back on.”

  “Turning the key,” you nod, licking your lips. You turn the key in the ignition until the engine rumbles to life. The car vibrates in response. You hate it.

   “Clutch pedal down with your left foot,” he says, pointing. You do as he says. “Move this,” he pats the gear stick, “into first gear, right here, left then up.” He watches you carefully, nodding back. “Good, okay, press down on the acceleration with your right foot now, gently,” he adds. He can tell by the furrow in your brow that you hate it. “You’re doing good,” he praises.

  “Yeah, yeah, continue.”

  “Now you gotta lift the clutch until you feel it vibrating, okay, then release the handbrake, keep slowly moving off the clutch until you’re moving with just the acceleration, okay?” He finds the deeply serious expression you’re wearing kind of endearing. “If it stalls we’re gonna start again, but don’t worry about it.”

But you don’t stall. The car moves as it should, with you controlling it, in the empty parking lot by the neighborhood park. “Great, great, almost perfect” he tells you, “we can probably go faster if you wanna try that-“

  “No, we cannot,” you say tightly, your shoulders hunched.

  The laugh he lets out makes your spine tingle. “You have to relax your face, I promise you’ll drive better if you’re not all… scrunched up,” he motions to your shoulder area.

  You try. You roll them back as you keep focusing on the road, trying not to furrow your brows so much. You’ll get a permanent forehead wrinkle at this rate.

   “See, there we go,” Steve reassures. Your let out a little huff, but your face goes placid, still. “Beautiful.” He’s not sure if he means to say it. If he should. He says it anyway.

  You look sideways at him as you drive through the parking lot. You’re driving slow. Slower than slow. You’re practically inching along. “You can’t possibly be flirting with me right now.” It’s not that you don’t like it. You do. It hurts how much you do. If he wasn’t freshly single and you didn’t feel so obligated to focus most of your time on taking care of Max, you’d flirt back. You weren’t new to it or anything. You knew your way around a guy. Even a gorgeous one like Steve. But he was only a few months over Nancy and you saw the grimaces he did when she and Jonathan crossed his path. You weren’t sure if he was over her. Or if Max was comfortable and secure enough here to be a little more independent.

  “I am not,” he scoffs. The blush creeping up his neck onto his cheeks betrays him. You shift your eyes to look at him again but he points, “eyes on the road, by the way.”

  “You were flirting, you just can’t help yourself, can you? King Steve, right?” You snicker, recalling the nickname from when you’d first met him, the one that had been rescinded just as fast. It’s easy to hide the fact that you liked the way he said beautiful, like a caress, like a kiss, behind your banter and snark. Maybe it’s one thing you and Billy could have in common. Everything’s easier when you hide it behind an attitude.

  “I wouldn’t say that stating a fact is… flirting,” he shrugs, flippant. At least, he hopes it appears flippant. You don’t give yourself much time to ponder this.

  “It is when you say it in that voice,” you retort.

  “Huh? What voice?” He balks at that. He does not put on a voice.

  “Like, low and sultry,” you flick some hair away from your eyes. It had been the way he said it, after all.  

     “You think my voice is low and sultry?” His ears practically perk up like a puppy’s. You don’t answer. It’s actually all the answer he needs. “I think you’re the one flirting with me now, Mayfield, not the other way around.”

  You scoff. You are scoffing and he is laughing away. “In your dreams, Harrington.”

  “Every night.” The joke registers with that one but it still makes your stomach clench. Every butterfly in the western hemisphere makes its way into your gut and builds a home there, an uncontrollable influx of new neighbors, fluttering madly, demanding to be seen and known and understood. You understood them, you just didn’t want to. “See, now that, that was flirting,” he says, satisfied at your quiet. “And you sound like your stepbrother when you say my last name like that, by the way. Excellent Billy impression.”

   You’re doing slow, lazy laps around the parking lot at this point, your nerves still present but for entirely different reasons now. “I do not sound like Billy.” You grimace. “And you probably shouldn’t be flirting with anyone when you just got out of a relationship, like, not even four months ago. I don’t think you’re ready to be flirting again.” You, again, are saying it more to yourself than to him. A subtle reminder of the predicament you’re in.  

  “Hence why I’m not flirting,” he informs you.

  “Uh huh,” you say, unconvinced.

 “But if I was-“

“Which you’re not-“

“Which I am not,” he agrees, “how would you feel? Just for, y’know, future reference.” He juts his lip out, wondering.

  “Let’s circle back to that when you’re not still reeling from the Nancy incident.”  

  “Well,” he shifts around in his seat. He wouldn’t say he’s still reeling. Still hurt, sure. But hurt sticks around longer than heartbreak does. You can be hurt by something someone did and not still be heartbroken over them. He wouldn’t say he’s still heart broken. Looking at you, his heart feels very much intact. Nothing broken here, no, definitely not. “That’s why it’s for a hypothetical future reference.”

  “Right, of course,” you slow the car to a stop. “Then I wouldn’t be opposed. Hypothetically.”

  “You wouldn’t?”  

  “I wouldn’t.” But, you remember, suddenly, that it’s not just you that you look out for. “Once Max is all settled, of course.”

   “Settled?”

   “Like, y’know, feeling better about being here.”

    “She’s got a massive group of friends she sees all the time.”

   “I know, but-“

   “You worry about her, I get it,” he places a hand on your knee, very light, not asking for anything. “Who worries about you? You should- you should be happy, too, is that crazy to say?”

   You place your hand over his.  “I’m happy. I’m happy, I promise. I don’t need you to worry about me, I’m okay.”

   “You should do more things for yourself.”

   “Like getting my license,” you gesture to the car.

   “Like getting your license, yeah.” Like going on a date with me. Like letting me show you how serious I am about you.

   “I’m okay how I am.”

   “I’m making it my job to look out for you, y’know.”

   You smile again. Very soft, almost embarrassed. You hated the attention being on you but you had to get used to it, being around him. “Yeah, Steve, I know.”

   He’s diligent in his effort to give you driving lessons. He takes you driving almost every day after school, Max in the backseat if she’s not with her friends, both of them encouraging and kind even when you hit the curb more often than not. You were a good driver, for all intents and purposes, even though your palms still sweat every time you got behind the wheel. It was a gradual comfort process. They were less sweaty than the first time, and that had to count for something. You even get comfortable enough to drive through Main Street, which nearly sends you into a panic and leads to a shouting match between the two of you while you furiously honk your horn at the other people of Hawkins on the road, Steve slumped in his seat to avoid eye contact with everyone, but after that, you’re a pro.

    A few weeks of this pass when he says to you, out of the blue as you drive aimlessly, “So, I set up your road test for you.”

   You’re still not used to this whole looking out for you thing he’s got going on. You almost stop the car short. “Did you really?”

    “I think you’re ready. You’re great, you’ll pass easily.”

    “You think?” You’re typically confident, strong-willed, but sometimes he sees those flickers of insecurity crop up and he attempts to smother that right then and there.

   “For sure,” he nods. “They’ll be begging you to be on the road.”

   “You flatter me.”

   “You deserve it.” His eyes, his smile, trained on you, always, is devastating. Maybe you do. Maybe you do.

    At your dinner table that night, you, Max, your mom, Neil, and Billy, Max does what she should never do in front of Neil or Billy, and that’s open her mouth.

   Billy had been going on about how he was sick of being the chauffeur, even though he really wasn’t anymore, and that if he was going to get a job this summer before college like Neil wanted you two would have to learn to get around on your own, because he can’t be responsible for two people if he also had to be responsible for a job.

   “She’s getting her driver’s license tomorrow,” she jerks her head toward you, a proud, beautiful smile on her face, and you want to drag her by the hair into your shared bedroom to ask why in the world she’d ever tell that to everyone and also give her the biggest hug for the evident pride she takes in the fact that you’re independent and doing things on your own and she looks up to you so, so much. You bite your lip as Neil’s fork scrapes noisily across his plate. “And Steve’s been driving us around anyway, so I don’t know what you’re going on about-“

   You interrupt her with a hard, socked foot coming down on her own. Your eyes go wide and your head tilts in her direction,  a please oh please stop talking expression.

    “Who has been driving you, exactly?” Neil asks, eyebrows raised.

   “My friend from school, it’s no big deal,” you answer, staring down at your plate and then back up at him. His cold gaze is fixated on you.

   “What happened to the agreement we had?” Neil turned his sneer to Billy, rendered speechless by Max’s unexpectedly bold statement. Billy then glares at you, and you really don’t want an argument, so you cut in.

  “It’s only sometimes, like once a week, and he doesn’t drive us to school, he drives us home. Rarely. Rare occasions. I promise.” A lie, flowing easily from your lips, and because Neil thinks you’re a smart, good girl, and his son is always up to no good and lying, he relaxes, and so does Billy, though you’ll get no thanks from him, not now, not ever.

  “Well, who’s been teaching you to drive where you feel ready to take your test?” Neil stretches across the table to get another helping of the meal your mother prepared from the middle of the table.

   “Steve, when we’re both free.” Every day.

   And because Billy can’t let you have anything, because he needs to instantly make you regret ever doing anything nice for him, he says, “I’m not a big fan of this Steve guy.”

   “Hm, and why’s that?” Neil continues eating.

   “It’s a petty high school rivalry,” you interrupt, narrowing your eyes at him.

   “He’s got a reputation with girls, you know. I wouldn’t want to see something bad happen to you.” Billy’s stupid grin eats shit. The feigned care makes your skin crawl.

   “What sort of reputation is that? You shouldn’t be hanging out with that sort of person,” Neil frowns. Again, with that feigned care. It’s not about genuine worry for you. It’s about control. Dominance. You won’t fall for it.

  “It’s all rumors. He had a serious girlfriend for a year. And we’re not together, anyway. He’s my friend.”

   “Guys all want the same thing,” Billy says back.

  “How would you know?” You push, nearly slamming your hands on the table.

   “I’m friends with the basketball team, there’s locker room talk, you get the picture.” He continues smiling in that mocking way of his that makes you want to jump across the dining room and put your fork through his eye.

   “You don’t actually know anything, though, do you, considering you’re not friends with him?”

   “I think I know enough to know that this isn’t the type of person my sister should be associating with-“

   That gets you going most of all, which is giving him exactly what he wants, and you can’t help it. “We are not siblings-“ your chair drags across the floor with a loud screech as you remove yourself from the table, just as Neil is telling you both to settle down.

  “C’mon, honey, sit back down, you can hang out with whoever you want, I’m sure this boy is very nice,” Susan coaxes you gently but you don’t even look at her, too caught up with the fact that it’s all her fault you’re here in this place with these people, these strangers, that you hate so deeply it makes your bones ache.

  “’M done eating, going to my room,” and you don’t care how annoyed it makes Neil that you’ve gotten up before he’s finished eating, which has become practice in this house now, you can’t even celebrate the fact that you’re achieving a milestone, getting your license, God damn it, without it turning into the Billy Hargrove one man show. He makes everything, everything, hurt.

   Max comes in a little while later, her footsteps light and hesitant on the floor. She crawls into your bed even though hers is across the room and she hasn’t slept beside you since your first night here.

   “Are you mad at me?” She asks. Her eyes are big and blue, worried.

   “’Course not.” You smooth her hair back. You’re not mad at her, truly. It’s not her fault Billy ruins everything. “I know you were just trying to get back at him for his complaining. S’not your fault, lovie.”

   “I should’ve known it would turn into that,” she frowns, uneasy. “It always turns into that.”

   “You don’t have to know anything. You should be allowed to say whatever you want to our parents, that’s what they’re there for. Don’t worry your pretty head about it.” You boop her nose with the tip of your finger. You’ve been sulking in your room because of him, not her.

  “Can I ask you something?” You’re face to face with each other, both your heads lying on your pile of pillows, hair fanned out behind you. Her expression is earnest and endearing.

  “Always.”

 “I thought you and Steve were dating already.”

 You hesitate. “That’s not a question.”

  “Okay,” she rolls her eyes. There’s no malice behind it. “Why aren’t you dating?”

  You crinkle your nose, dismissive. “Because, I’m- I’m, like, busy, with stuff, and he’s not over Mike’s sister and I just, I don’t wanna get mixed up with some silly boy.”

   She admires your dismissive attitude toward boys, and it might be why she breaks up with Lucas every other week in exasperation with his boyish faults. She just thinks it’s crazy that you have this attitude when a guy like Steve is the one following you around with shiny looks and dreamy smiles. She’s sure that you’d never deny Steve, who, when she observed you both from the backseat, did everything in his power to make you feel comfortable, safe, secure, was kind to her while also maintaining a brotherly banter, something she thought she was getting when Billy had been introduced to her, was funny, and generous. He was always letting you drive his car and buying you both food and making sure you had a ride somewhere if you needed it. And she drove her and her friends around everywhere even if you weren’t there, too. Steve seemed perfect.

   He was easy on the eyes, too, but it brought a hot flush to Max’s cheeks to admit that, so she never would. 

   “He’s not a silly boy, he’s Steve.”

   “A boy is just a boy no matter who he is, you know that.”

   “Yeah, but,” she huffs, indignant, “he really likes you. I bet he’d go out with you if you asked.”

   “I’m not asking him out, and he doesn’t like me like that. He’s a good friend. And I told you, I’m too busy for him.”

   “Busy with what?” She cries, exasperated. “Busy driving with Steve, busy doing homework with Steve, busy getting dinner with Steve, busy-“

   She’s running out of fingers to write her list on. You grab her hand to stop the count. “I get your point.”

   “You can’t be too busy for someone if you already spend so much time with them, is all I’m saying.” She has a point. You scratch your arm absentmindedly. “What’s the real reason?”

   “What real reason? You’re saying that’s not the real reason?”

  “Definitely not the real reason.”

   “Says who?”

   “Says your best friend.”

   You sigh at her, a loving sound. “Oh, yeah, her.” You run a hand through her hair again. The softness of it soothes you. “I don’t wanna leave you alone.”

    She pokes your cheek. “I’m not alone. I have my friends.”

   “Didn’t you hear that we’re best friends? I can’t leave you in the dust.” It’s more playful than you really feel. You don’t want to burden her by unburdening yourself, relaying all your fears about what would happen if you spent more time with Steve, things like her resenting you, something awful happening between her and Billy, her getting hurt, injured, killed, your brain delved into all sorts of dark, terrible places, and these spiraling thoughts led to one conclusion: you would never, ever, let your focus waver from her. “I take care of you, okay? I don’t have the time to think about anything else. Besides, he might not even be over Nance, remember?”

   “He is. He is over her. I promise,” she insists, placing her hands on your arms. “He looks at you like he’s in love, I’ve seen it!”

   “You don’t know what you’re seeing, babe-“

  “I do.” She shoves herself off your bed, your hand, where it was twined in her hair, falling back onto the covers. You sit up, confused, as she stomps off to her own bed.

  “Are you mad at me right now?” You ask.

   “I’d be happy if you were happy.”

    “Max, stop, I am happy-“

   “Not happy enough. He’s nice. You should just go out with him. Stupid to worry about me all the time.” She flicks off her lamp light and turns away from you toward her wall. You sigh. You think. Your stomach twists itself in a knot you don’t want to think about. Eventually, when her stubbornness about it overrides yours, you turn back toward your own wall and turn out your own light. Your eyes strain from trying not to cry, so eventually, you cave in to that, too.

   Your hands shake at your road test the next day. For a multitude of reasons. You look at Steve differently, with your head tilted toward him like the head of a flower tilts toward the sun, waiting and wanting. You’re running over all the ways it could go wrong. You resign yourself to never doing a thing about it.

    He notices your quiet, so unlike yourself, and attributes it to your nerves about the test. He rubs your shoulders, an attempt to hype you up. “You got this, okay? You’re gonna kill it. You’re gonna be the second best driver in Hawkins.”

   “Lemme guess, you’re the first?” It’s the first smile you’ve cracked all day and he takes it as the victory it is.

   “Well it’s certainly not Billy,” he rolls his eyes. “Seriously, how you feelin’?” He spins you around and the gaze he bores into you is too intense to bear. You look away fervently.

   “Fine, ‘m fine, nervous, but fine, should be good, my driving instructor was excellent.” He beams with pride at that, a blinding flash.

   “World renowned, I heard,” he brags.

   “Let’s see if I pass first.”

   “You will,” he says. Confident, assured. It makes you feel assured in turn.  

   And you do. You pass. By a hair, truth be told, but you pass. It thrills you, clutching the paper declaring your triumph in your fist, walking outside to greet Steve who leans against the hood of his car in his devastating way of his, hands shoved deep in his pockets as he taps his foot in wait. When he sees you come out, he brightens, straightening himself out.

   “What’s the verdict?” He asks.

   You wave the paper around. “I passed!” You can’t fake it for a second, your joy at this little bit of freedom absolutely inescapable. He lets out a loud, thrilled whoop for you, and his joy brings you even more of it. He picks you up off the ground and spins you in a circle, and when you’re back on the sidewalk, steady, he envelopes you in a deep, encompassing hug.

  When he hugs, his whole body goes into it, if that makes any sense. He throws his all into it. There’s no hesitancy, no timidity, he’s not ashamed of it in the slightest. He hugs you, hard. He’s that proud. And he likes holding you. You pull away first and he’s not surprised.

  “Proud of you,” he squeezes you arm again.

   “Couldn’t have done it without, Steve, really. You- you’re the best, y’know that?”

   He decides to push his luck. “Good enough to go on a date with?” He can see already that you’ll say no. That you want to say yes but you’re going to say no. He doesn’t care. He’ll wait until you’re sick of him.

  “You don’t wanna go out with me,” you squeeze his arm back.

  “You’re real silly, you know that?” His voice is warm and awfully fond.

  You can’t bring yourself to let him all the way in just yet. You walk with him back to the car and agree with him. Yes, you’re real silly, indeed.

#if u have requests for more mayfield reader content. pls hit me up. i am in fact begging. #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x mayfield!reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #STEVE CROWD WAKE THE FUCK UP #mayfieldreaderverse

[feyhunter78]

Pink Pastels Pt 15

Description: Miguel is called away to work, so you spend some time with your favorite student.

Pt 16

Gabi’s over her fever, finally. Then Miguel is called into work, his actual job, not his Spiderman job, and now that you know the truth, and live next door, you find yourself in the O’Hara household after school the next day.

Gabi is delighted, dragging you around their large apartment, showing you every room in the house except—“and that’s papá’s office. I’m not allowed to go in there unless he’s here because his computer is super fancy, and there’s a bunch of his work stuff in there, so he doesn’t want me to get hurt.”

You glance at the sturdy looking door, it looks normal, not like a place that could potentially hide all his Spiderman secrets. Did Gabi know her father was Spiderman? In your haste last night, you hadn’t even asked Miguel who knew his secret identity.

“And this is my room, papá painted it for me last year because I didn’t like green anymore, I wanted it to be blue.” She pulls you into her room and has you sit down on the colorful rug in the middle of the room.

“That’s nice of him.” You say, admiring Gabi’s room.

It’s painted a light blue, with clouds on the ceiling. Her bed is pushed against the wall, and she has a dresser, a nightstand, and two bookshelves. Her walls are covered with posters, awards, and photos. You can tell Miguel put a lot of thought into her room, and you can see the love he has for her pouring out of every inch of her room.

“Let’s play telenovela, I’ll be Carmen and you be Bianca.” She pulls out a cloth crate full of dolls and digs through them until she finds the ones she seems to be looking for.

“Okay, but who is Bianca, tell me her story, remember what we learned in class?” You ask gently, wanting to make sure she hasn’t forgotten anything while she was sick.

Gabi nods and continues to pull out dolls. “Bianca is the pretty new wife who marries—she sets down a doll that looks strangely like Miguel—Raul, and Carmen is his daughter.”

You try not to read too much into that. “Okay, and who are the other two dolls?”

She points to a redheaded doll. “That’s Maria, she’s Carmen’s first mom, but Carmen doesn’t like her—Then she holds up a blond doll—and this is Daniel, he’s the guy Maria runs away from Raul and Carmen with.”

You swallow hard but give her a big smile. Surely this was just the plot of some show she’s seen, and not her reenacting her own life? She was a baby when her mom left, there’s no way she’d remember, it’s not humanly possible.

“Okay, I think I got it, why don’t you set the scene?” You say, picking up the doll she called Bianca.

Gabi is a smart kid. You’ve always known that, and you also know kids are more perceptive than most people think, which is why you shouldn’t be surprised and horrified by how much she seems to know about her mother abandoning them.

“I never wanted a kid, you did, so you take care of her, I’m not coming back!” Gabi had her voice pitched up as she pretended to be Maria talking to Raul.

“But wait, she’s your daughter, you should be in her life, Maria, please don’t just—” She deepened her voice to play Raul.

“No, I’m moving to California with Daniel, and I never want to hear from you or that thing ever again.”

You’re speechless, the venom in Gabi’s voice as she pretends to be Maria, is heartbreaking.

Gabi makes the Maria doll pretend to hang up a phone, then she chucks her across the room, the plastic impacting the wall with a loud smack 

“Now you come in, Ms. Y/N.” Gabi says cheerfully, waiting for you to say something.

You stumble for a moment, then pull yourself back together. “Oh Raul, I’m so sorry about Maria, she sounds awful.” You pitch your voice up, too, seeking a way to separate yourself from what you just saw.

“Girls?” Miguel’s voice rings through the apartment, and you breathe a silent sigh of relief.

“We’re in Gabi’s room.” You call back, smiling at Gabi as she springs up and races down the hall.

Your smile drops, and you stare at the small dent the Maria doll made in the wall. Did Gabi have superpowers too, or were the walls in this building just really thin?

You turn to see Miguel and Gabi. He’s smiling at you and Gabi is holding a snack sized bag of goldfish.

“Everything alright at work?” You ask Miguel as you stand and join them in the hallway.

“Just a minor biochemical emergency, they didn’t really need me, but I’m head of the department, so I have to be there to take the accident reports.” He’s still smiling, and you can’t stop your eyes from roaming his form. It should be illegal to look that good in a white button up and black slacks.

“We played dolls while you were gone, papa.” Gabi says, tugging on his shirt sleeve.

“Oh yeah, what story did you tell her?” Miguel asks, stealing a goldfish from the bag in her hands.

Gabi goes silent, fidgeting with the bag in her hands.

“¿Mija? Miguel squats down and your eyes flicker to his ass before you mentally slap and remind yourself where you are.

“La de tu llamada telefónica con mama.” She mumbles. Trsl: The one about your phone call with mom.

Miguel’s face falls, and he settles his hands on her shoulders. “¿Qué llamada telefónica?” Trsl: What phone call?

Gabi starts to sniffle, and you move on instinct, joining Miguel at her side.

“It was a long time ago, but I heard you and her, and you were arguing about me, and I hate her. I want Ms. Y/N to be my mom.” Gabi cries, flinging herself into your arms.

You stumble back slightly but Miguel catches you, one hand on your upper back.

“Oh, Gabi, honey that’s so sweet, but I can’t be your mom, your dad and I aren’t married, and besi—”

“Then just get married.” She demands through her sobs, clinging tightly to you.

You look at Miguel helplessly.

He looks just as helpless as you and begins to stroke Gabi’s hair. “Mija, I had no idea you heard that, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you were sad, and I didn’t want to make you more sad.” She says quietly, burying her face in the crook of your neck.

Oh, there goes your heart, and by the looks of it, Miguel’s too.

“Gabriella, even when I’m sad I want to know what you’re feeling, especially when it comes to your mom.” He says gently, his eyes on her shaking shoulders.

“She’s not my mom, Ms. Y/N is.” Gabi protests. “You just have to get married, and then it’ll be true.”

Miguel sighs and mouths, “I’m sorry,” to you.

You give him a reassuring half smile and mouth back. “It’s fine.”

“Gabi, come on Mija, why don’t you come with me, and we’ll talk about this, let Ms. Y/N go home.” Miguel offers, already trying to loosen her grip on you.

“No, then she’ll never come back.”

Did you think your heart was broken before? Because now it’s shattered.

“Gabi, honey, listen to me, okay?” Your voice is more serious now but not cold or cruel, it’s a voice she recognizes from when you’re being serious during class.

“Okay.” She sniffles, wiping her eyes with her sleeves.

“I’m going to come back; you’re going to see me every day at school like normal, and now I’m right next door. So, if you get scared, your dad can just bring you right over, and I’ll remind you that I’m not going anywhere.” You tell her, brushing the hair back from her face.

“You promise?” She asks, bottom lip wobbly, her eyes still rimmed with tears.

You hold out your pinky to her, and she links hers with yours. “I pinky promise.”

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[sunkendreams]

I haven’t seen any billy loomis content on your blog ,,, would love to see some smut of him! nothing specific, I know you’ll write something good!

devil in disguise.

➾ pairing ; billy loomis x fem!reader.

in which billy decides to visit you once your father leaves for his shift — but there’s an additional element.

FORMAT: one-shot — requested.

WORD COUNT: 6.7K.

WARNINGS: SMUT (mdni), loss of virginity, rough sex, unprotected sex, p in v sex, multiple positions, multiple orgasms, sex during a storm, dirty talk, fingering (f!receiving), cunnilingus, oral sex (f!receiving), heavy knifeplay, billy is a little deranged in this, begging, creampie, cumplay, bloodplay, tiddy sucking, mild body worship, biting, hickeys/marking, choking, hair-pulling, finger sucking

AUTHOR’S NOTE: not gonna lie, I was suffering from billy brainrot and this emerged from my brain. I love him so much !!! I do want to write some more mickey & ethan landry content too, but I do need to tell y’all about my new influx of blorbos lately LOL! love you all so much and thanks for your continued support! Means the world to me!

Whenever it rained in California, you considered it to be a once-in-a-lifetime occasion — wisps of black clouds fluttered overhead, accompanied by the haze of an overcast sky. Even for the evening, the skies were unnaturally dark, making it seem like nighttime altogether. The scent of encroaching dewdrops drifted through your bedroom.

“Honey?” Your father gently tapped his knuckles against the white pane of your door, dressed in his police uniform. “Mind if we talk?” He asked, clearing his throat. The badge of the Woodsboro Sheriff’s Department glistened on his ironed shirt.

With the recent killings of Casey Becker and Steven Orth plaguing your school, your father had reason to be concerned. He was the Chief, after all — he was cleaning up mess after mess, investigating these murders without any leads. Stress shimmered upon his features, showing up as heavy bags underneath his eyes.

You swiveled around within your seat, busying yourself with homework for the evening. Books were strewn across your desk, accompanied by a computer that barely ran nowadays anyway.

“Sure,” You cleared your throat, awkwardly shuffling away from your chair to the edge of your bed. “What’s up?” The relationship with your father was somewhat tenuous — being the daughter of a police chief came with unwanted attention and his constant overprotective nature.

“You know about the murders,” He began, looming in the doorway of your bedroom. His countenance glistened with a thinly-veiled anxiousness, but also a bit of fear. You rarely saw your father show anything remotely close to terror, but here he was. “About your classmates.”

“Yeah,” Your brows furrowed together — where was he going with this? “You don’t want me to leave the house anymore, do you?” An exasperated sigh escaped you, but he immediately shook his head.

“No, no. I just think …” He clicked his tongue. “No visitors for a while, not until we clear everyone at the school as a suspect.” A sinking feeling pooled within the pit of your stomach, accompanied by disappointment. It meant that your boyfriend couldn’t come over — indefinitely.

Billy Loomis was a mysterious boy, cunning and charming with a silver tongue — he constantly wrapped you up in it, time and time again. He’d broken up with Sidney Prescott last year, not long after her mother had passed away. He was more than good to you, but your father wasn’t convinced.

His suspicion of Billy wasn’t subtle whatsoever, and it irked you at times. You’d gotten into several arguments about the morality and character of your paramour, and your father had inevitably relented, letting you date him — but there was always protest involved.

“I think you want to say Billy, Dad.” You uttered, lips curling into a sour frown as you stomped back to your chair with an indignant huff. “You’ve always disliked him. This isn’t about anyone else I hang out with — it’s about him.” Your tone became clipped and volatile, prompting you to return to studying.

Chief Burke let out a deep sigh, knowing he’d upset you with this news. “We’ll talk about that later,” He murmured, checking his watch with a thin-lipped expression. “I have to get going to the station.” Your father stepped forward, attempting to press a kiss against the top of your head — but you’d flinched away.

Gritting your teeth together, you attempted to maintain a shred of kindness towards your father. You wanted to explode, but it wasn’t a good time. He was under a lot of stress. “Love you.” You sighed, grabbing your pencil as you returned to writing something down in your notebook.

“I’ll see you in the morning.”

From behind the curve of your shoulder, you watched as your father retreated from your bedroom, shutting the door behind him in the process. A twinge of guilt flickered through you, and you couldn’t help but feel like the villain. Your mother was out on work-related business, and your father was drowning away in work.

Oftentimes, you were left to your own devices, absorbed in school, hanging out with your friends, or spending time with Billy — but that was all on an eternal hiatus, it seemed. You pressed your tongue against the inside of your cheek, stepping toward your door. The house was eerily silent, just you and the encroaching thunderstorm.

A clap of thunder rattled the skies, causing you to nearly jump out of your own skin. Goosebumps formed along the column of your spine as you crept down the stairs, traipsing towards your kitchen. Being home alone had a plethora of perks — the alcohol being one of them. If your father knew about all of the underage drinking, he’d likely have a heart attack.

There were so many things that he didn’t know about.

A brief flash of lightning illuminated your surroundings, casting the kitchen in a quick burst of white. You opened up the refrigerator, carefully removing one of your dad’s Abita’s from the side door. After rattling around in the cupboards, you found the bottle opener, popping open the amber lager as a stream of vapor emerged from the top.

You were swift to retreat back upstairs, latching your bedroom door in the process. You placed the beverage along the edge of your desk, listening to the atmospheric deluge of rain pattering outside, falling against the rooftops. You left your window open, lulled into a sense of comfort from the stormy evening.

A sharp thump reverberated against the side paneling of your house, prompting you to rock forward. Normally, you wouldn’t have given it much thought, but considering that someone was killing your classmates, it filled you with a pang of dread.

Hesitant, you crept toward the window, and through the haze of rain and darkness, you noticed a figure moving against the tall wall of lattice that climbed around the back of your home. You squinted, head canting to one side as you realized who was sneaking around.

Billy’s soaked frame appeared before you within an instant, still scaring you as a strangled gasp escaped your lips. “Billy!” You squeaked, lips parted as you noticed his hair, slick and plastered to his skull. The blue-and-white flannel he wore atop a white t-shirt remained stuck to him like a second skin.

“Hey,” He greeted cooly, flashing you one of those little smiles that made butterflies erupt within your stomach. Those warm, earthen-colored hues shamelessly flickered across your attire, finding some sort of attraction in the long-sleeved nightgown you wore. “Cold?”

“Not really,” You mused, nibbling along your lower lip as he ogled the still-icy beer sitting atop your desk. A bemused chuckle left him as he sauntered forward, head cocked to one side. “You’re soaked. Did you walk all the way here?”

“Thought I’d walk, but I wasn’t expecting the rain,” Billy murmured, taking a hold of your drink. “A little brazen, don’t you think? Aren’t you worried that your father might arrest you for underage drinking?” He teased, mouth curling into a playful grin as he took a swig of lager.

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” You chimed, nose wrinkling in amusement as he passed the bottle to you. With a brief exhale, you took a drink of lager, feeling the bitter twang of alcohol swarm your mouth as you swallowed. “Do you need me to throw anything in the dryer?” For someone soaked to the bone, Billy remained unphased.

He shook his head in dismissal, clicking his tongue soon afterwards. “No,��� Billy’s brows furrowed together for a moment, and then he peered toward the door. “Your old man not around tonight?” Normally, he was always quiet for your sake — and you were often a ball of nerves, but you seemed so carefree tonight.

“He’s gone until the morning.” It was a declaration and a not-so-subtle hint — you could stay. Your relationship with Billy was still somewhat new and flourishing, but you were hoping that it would only continue to intensify. You hadn’t really done much of anything outside of making out and touching. He was patient with you, too.

Billy hummed, gaze surveying your bedroom with a sheen of curiosity. He often searched for new details or anything he found intriguing. His fingertips grazed across your quilted bedspread, and then toward the open window. “Do you like thunderstorms?” He asked. “Or do you keep the window open for me?”

“Would it make you feel better if I said both?” A bubbly burst of laughter escaped you as you tidied up your desk, putting your studying aside for the time being. You enjoyed the lightheartedness of it all despite the dour weather and less-than-savory conversation you’d had with your father twenty minutes prior.

His footsteps were light across the carpeted floor until he approached you, palm cupping your jaw with a certain level of care. At the very beginning, he asked you for everything — for a touch, for a kiss. You didn’t want him to ask nowadays, careening into the warmth of his hand as he brought you in for a kiss.

This bout of shyness always rippled through you whenever he was near — his presence was so enigmatic and overwhelming in the best of ways. He smelled like a smoky cologne, accompanied by the scent of dewdrops. You shivered when his arm crept to your hips, lightly massaging at your waist over the cotton of your nightgown.

Billy was an incredible kisser — always walking a fine line of soft and voracious. You wondered what it would be like for him to really give in. It was a fantasy that had crossed your mind more than you could count. His head tilted slightly, thumb tracing over your chin before he withdrew, stare bleeding with a thinly-veiled desire.

“You’re beautiful,” He uttered reverently, idly dragging the pad of his thumb across your lower lip. “Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” Billy’s voice was husky, an alluring drawl that was barely above a whisper. It sent a shudder of delight cascading down your spine, anticipation pooling within the pit of your stomach.

A brief sigh left you, trapped within your throat as you tilted inward, hands pressed against his chest. The material was damp underneath your palms, not that you cared. He had snuck through your bedroom window countless times — but it felt so much heavier this time around, given your father’s stark statement of not wanting you to see him.

You ducked your head, heat crawling across your body as you chewed at your lower lip. Billy knew that you were smitten, and he devoured every scrap that he could, but something felt off, as if you had something to tell him, dancing upon the tip of your tongue. “Hey,” He murmured, titling your chin up to meet his gaze. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just …” You couldn’t lie to him. Billy had this radar for bullshit, able to see right through you, pierce your armor with ease. “It’s my dad, that’s all.” Admittedly, you were hesitant to reveal the truth, considering that Billy sometimes had a strong reaction to things.

Billy had a feeling that your father had it out for him — an intelligent man, to be certain. Of course, such suspicions were true, but he wasn’t about to make that known. A huff of laughter escaped him, followed by another debonair grin. “What, does he want to arrest me?” He mused, pressing a string of soft kisses along your jaw.

“Something like that,” You mumbled, burying your face into the crook of his neck. He smelled incredible, like a dusky night, drawing you in with his magnetizing pull. “He doesn’t want me to see you right now because of all of the killings and stuff.” The confession felt like a weight within your chest, but oddly enough, Billy didn’t seem too angered by this.

“Does he think I’m a suspect?” Billy questioned, point-blank. His tone became rather blunt, but still held that little shred of amusement. In the grand scheme of things, he was on the right track — unbeknownst to you, of course. It would stay that way.

“I don’t think so. He’s just skeptical, I guess. It’s his job.” You hesitated, drawing away just enough to get a look at your boyfriend’s handsome visage. “I just don’t want you to feel threatened or feel like you can’t come around. I don’t care what he says — I want to be with you.” You murmured, brows furrowing together.

His jaw tensed, gaze incendiary and oozing with a lasciviousness as he pressed a lingering kiss to your mouth, fingers idly stroking aside some of your hair. Billy had grown very fond of you, but with that, there was always some twisted desire to corrupt — the obsession that blossomed with it all.

“You have me,” Billy exhaled, body pressed against yours, hands pinning you close. “This all feels a little defiant, doesn’t it?” His tone had dropped an octave, akin to a delicate purr as he brushed his mouth against yours. You leaned in this time, pressing your lips against his as you chased after that sensation with a fervor.

“Yeah,” You whispered, feeling a newfound thrill churn within your stomach, coupled with exhilaration. “Can you stay tonight?” You asked, fingers gently weaving themselves into his mousy tresses, tugging at the hair around the nape of his neck.

His head cocked to one side as he arched an eyebrow. “I thought I couldn’t,” Staying implied one thing — sex. You had never propositioned it until now, let alone entertained the thought. “Unless you’ve changed your mind.” He didn’t want to rush anything or pressure you into something that you weren’t prepared for.

The constant feeling of doom hung over you — religion and saving yourself had always been a point of contention in your family. You were worried that Billy would leave you if he had you, but you knew that wouldn’t be the case. You were ready to have your first time and have it be with him.

Your head began to bob in a little nod, heat creeping across your body as it blossomed within your cheeks with a burning sensation. “I want you,” You whispered, breath hitching within your throat. “I — I need you, really. I don’t want you to go, Billy.” You mumbled, nearly gasping when his hand began to caress along the curve of your thigh.

“Are you sure?” Billy asked, brows knitting together in a moment of concern. “We don’t have to do anything intense,” He reassured, pressing another kiss against your jaw, and then to your neck. “I don’t want you to feel rushed.” Admittedly, he wanted nothing more than to touch you, to take your virginity, make you feel good, but it needed to be on your terms.

It felt good — the spark of retaliation and rebellion against your father, seeing Billy again in such a secretive fashion. You knew that if anyone found out, namely your parents, you’d be in a world of trouble. Fortunately, it was just the two of you and an empty house.

“You’ve been really patient with me,” You murmured, a soft sigh drifting from your lips as you sank forward into his embrace. “I want this.” Billy’s constant chase for consent and ensuring your comfort was beyond attractive, and you were thankful for it, but this was long overdue.

A soft laugh burst forth from his chest as Billy stroked at your cheek, calloused fingertips traveling across the delicate plane of your visage. “I would wait for as long as you wanted me to.” He uttered, gaze shifting from affectionate to incendiary, simmering with an unmistakable sensuality.

He was so good to you — your ex-boyfriend paled in comparison to Billy Loomis in more ways than one. “I know,” You sighed, lips twitching into a smitten smile as your digits plucked at the damp fabric of his shirt. You pressed another chaste kiss against his mouth. “Should I shut the window?”

Billy clicked his tongue, mouth twitching into a faint smirk. “No,” He swept strands of hair behind your ear, cradling your cheek within his warm palm. “You’ll have to be quiet. You think you can handle that?” The little evocation of a challenge was prevalent — your insides turned to metaphorical mush as you shivered.

“I can’t promise anything.” Your voice was wrought with excitement, barely above a whisper. The blood was rushing to your head and heart, hot and fervent as Billy gently guided you toward your bed. His smirk morphed into a wolfish grin, unable to tear his eyes away from you.

As he placed you down against the mattress, atop your quilted bedspread, he crawled in between your legs, lips hungrily returning to kiss you. He tasted like a lick of amber lager, intertwined with breath mints and the hint of cigarettes. Your heart began to beat faster as Billy’s hand rubbed along your thigh, digits flicking at the hem of your panties.

The ambiance of the thunderstorm outside provided a rather atmospheric setting, on top of the dim lighting throughout your bedroom. Rain noisily pounded against rooftops and the surrounding neighborhood, as if masking the salaciousness of your actions. Your hands pushed at his flannel, and he took it off, along with his white t-shirt.

“May I?” You whispered, eyes wide and mesmerized as Billy let out a brief chuckle. He was so painfully handsome, especially when he smiled — it only served to make you squirm, goosebumps erupting underneath his wandering touch.

“You’re sweet,” Billy murmured, voice deliciously husky as he pressed a kiss against your mouth, teeth playfully snagging your lower lip. The sheepish, stupefied reaction you had was well worth it, prompting him to grab one of your wrists, steering your hand to wherever you wanted it to go. “I want to see you.”

His composure was beginning to crumble, foundation being chipped away at. You were so infectious, like a fever, and Billy only wanted more. He had to restrain himself from being rough, watching with lustful eyes as you sat up a little bit.

You shivered when his hands slipped underneath your nightgown, curling into the hem as he helped you take off the lengthy, frilled garment. Billy licked at his lower lip, hooded stare eating you alive once you were stripped of that coverage. The pastel brassiere and panties you wore were just in the way.

“Lay down.” Billy husked, presence exuding a domineering edge without even trying. You silently obeyed, breath hitching within your throat as he covered your body with his, all sinewy muscle and tan skin. His mouth clashed with yours, voracious and all-consuming as he kept himself propped up with one arm.

Curious, needy digits found their way to your chest, groping and kneading at your chest over the material of your bra. “Billy.” You sighed, moaning into his mouth when he bit at your lip again. It was sharp and somewhat painful, but admittedly, you found that minuscule prick of discomfort to be exciting.

With a brusque tug, Billy’s palm circled around your bare breast, massaging at the sensitive flesh as he tugged at your nipple. Your hands flew to the nape of his neck, dragging through his hair as his mouth tore away from yours, only to find their purchase against the slender column of your throat.

Your flesh was velveteen underneath him, warm to the touch as he began to suckle against the sensitive flesh of your jugular. Teeth and lips created a series of marks — some were more obvious than others. A clap of thunder caused you to jump, a soft gasp escaping you as your body clashed with Billy’s.

His grin was tangible, like an imprint seared into your collarbone as he peered at you with those shimmering brown hues. “Scared?” He murmured, flashing those pearlescent teeth in a brief grin. Billy felt your skin erupt with goosebumps, creeping like a wildfire across your body.

“No,” You protested, tongue absentmindedly swiping across your lower lip. You gently tugged on his hair, hands wandering about until you were cupping his narrow face within your palms. “You’re so perfect.” A soft, enthralled sigh escaped you as he stared down at you.

That calculating, searing gaze would have burned right through you if it were possible — you could feel the desire that oozed from eyes alone. Billy turned his head, planting a kiss against your palm as he grabbed your wrist, fingers tangling with yours.

“You’re beautiful,” His voice dipped into a low, lascivious purr, a delicious octave that made you shudder. “You’re mine.” Billy uttered, and for a moment, there was something dark and innately possessive within his voice, something that you hadn’t heard before. While some might’ve found it strange and obsessive, you were hooked.

You swallowed the growing lump within your throat, feeling his lips press against yours again with a vigor and urgency. Silence drifted between the two of you, but the intensity and desire only seemed to amplify. His kisses were ravenous and passionate, accompanied by teeth and tongue.

“Take this off,” Billy murmured in between kisses, tugging on your brassiere for emphasis. His digits deftly felt along your body, ending up between your legs as he began to touch you. You were barely able to unclasp your bra without squirming and wriggling, hips jolting forward. “Hold still for me, baby.”

Inclined to obey, you ceased your movements, breath hitching within the back of your throat as his hand dipped beneath the waistband of your panties. You felt absolutely pathetic, already wet from just the tension and kissing alone. With this discovery, Billy grinned, letting out a soft laugh as his digits ghosted along your cunt.

“You’re wet for me and I haven’t even touched you yet,” Billy crooned, pressing a heated, sloppy kiss against your collarbone. His other hand torturously tugged and caressed at your breast. “So sweet.” He uttered, nipping at the soft flesh of your chest.

You moaned, body set ablaze as he dragged two digits along your cunt, allowing them to sink inward as he briefly touched your clit with his thumb. “Billy,” You whimpered, legs parting for him as he settled between them, reveling in your pleasured expression. “Please, please don’t stop.” You wanted to cry.

A low hum emerged from his chest, mouth pressing gentle, lasting kisses around your breast. “You’re so pretty.” He mumbled, taking your hardened peak into his maw as he sucked at your nipple. Those experienced, quick fingers developed a rhythm as he stroked along your slit, thumb lazily circling your clit.

Billy could only imagine what you’d be like if he were rough with you — if he had a knife in his hand, licking the blood from your swollen mouth. The thought alone made his cock throb within his jeans, but he would save it for another time.

As he bent you to his will, making you submit with his fingers alone, your body viscerally reacted to his ministrations, back beginning to arch. “B—Billy,” You sighed with passion, goosebumps beginning to coalesce along your spine. “God, feels so good.”

Innocent — that’s what you were. Vulnerable and pious, something to covet. Billy wanted to possess you, breathe you in, control you.

Akin to a canary trapped within the talons of a predator, you squirmed with delight, desperate for his embrace. His digits dipped toward your warm entrance, teasing you with gentle prod. “I’ll try to be gentle,” He crooned. “You make it so hard for me. Just relax.” Billy mumbled, teeth grazing your nipple as he licked at your sternum.

You nodded, stomach churning with molten heat as you felt some pressure. Your fingers dug into the nape of his neck, leaving behind crimson crescents as he kissed along your stomach. His digits sunk into you with some resistance, pushing into your tight cunt. A wanton moan escaped you, mouth agape.

It was a foreign sensation, but you savored every second, cunt clenching pathetically around his fingers as he began to find a sluggish rhythm. Billy kissed his way toward the heat between your thighs, tongue raking liquid heat over your aching core.

A spasm ran through you as a choked whine escaped your mouth, countenance rippling with surprise. “O—Oh,” You croaked, awash with delight as his mouth carefully roamed over your slick cunt. He began to lick and lap at your core — slower, at first — more exploratory. “Billy!” You squeaked.

The myriad of sensations you were experiencing were excruciatingly pleasant. It was pure bliss, feeling his lips caress your slit, digits steadily pumping their way in and out of you as he toyed with your clit. Every mewl and moan only spurred him on.

Something dark and alluring danced within his eyes, and when you lazily rolled your head to look down, his stare could’ve burned right through you. A flash of lightning only contributed to his sinister countenance, lips twitching into a smirk as he lapped at your cunt.

Billy ate you out like a man starved, touching you in places that you’d only dreamed of. His tongue was hot, raking hot embers over your slit as he showered you in endless attention. A strangled gasp escaped you as his fingers stilled, nose bumping against your clit.

His palm splayed out along the meat of your thigh, nails digging in, fingers pressing down hard enough to leave behind bruises. You clawed at his hair, hips lurching forward, but he pinned you down without hesitation, shivering at the sound of your sweet, innocuous moans.

Part of you wanted him to be rough, to really show you how much he desired you. Every fiber of your being ached for him in a way that made you itch, heat crawling across your supple flesh. “You can be rough,” You whispered, feeling the subtle hitch in his throat, tongue stilling atop your clit. “Billy.”

Billy’s jaw tensed, gaze dancing with a subtle malevolence, intermingled with obsession. His darker side often festered under the skin, but when you asked him to be rough, he knew he needed to be careful. He didn’t want to hurt you or scare you away with his potential antics.

“You want me to be rough?” His tone emerged as a low purr, murmured into the pliant meat of your inner thigh. Billy’s teeth suddenly nicked flesh before he licked at your cunt again, grazing your clit in an effort to tease you. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.” It was more of a warning than anything else.

Maybe he was right — you hadn’t the slightest clue of where this could lead.

Whatever darkness you saw, part of you viewed it as an act, as a facade for the sake of intimacy. Nonetheless, you still wanted him to be a little more forceful with you. As much as you savored his gentle streak, you wanted the intensity and the heat of the moment.

He wanted to let you stew on it for a little while, lips greedily pursing around your clit as he began to suck a the sensitive clutch of nerves. Billy’s fingers pushed themselves inside of you again, evoking a barrage of pleasured whines and moans from you. It very nearly derailed your train of thought.

With quivering digits, you reached for his hair again, raking through his tresses with a fervor. Billy felt you tug and pull, which only served to spur him on as he finger-fucked you into a blissful oblivion. It was intermingled with delicate licks to your clit, causing you to writhe in-place.

“I’m close,” You whined, hoping that he would keep going or be rough. Part of you wondered why he was so hesitant, but you didn’t want to push the matter. “Billy, please don’t stop!” With a shrill cry, his ministrations only intensified, fingers pistoning in and out of your cunt.

Billy gazed at you with eyes that almost appeared black, simmering with an unrestrained desire. “Yeah?” He purred, lips dutifully returning to suck and lap at your clit. The sensations were mind-numbing, nearly overwhelming as your stomach surged with a churning heat.

He curled his digits inside of you, letting you simmer on that sensation alone before he stopped. Billy finger-fucked you, accompanied by the tantalizing movements of his mouth. He couldn’t get enough of you, delighted to lap at your sweet cunt.

You nodded several times over, bucking toward his mouth as he continued to kiss and suck at your clit. Billy led you into the white-hot abyss of your orgasm, digits drenched in your slick as he withdrew, licking at his lower lip.

The pleasure was almost blinding, body hot and borderline feverish as you attempted to regain your composure. Your chest rose and fell with quick pants, mouth dry as Billy crawled up, covering your body with his as he placed two fingers against your lower lip.

“Open,” It wasn’t a question — it was a demand. Billy’s countenance had become shadowed, jaw tense as he watched you sheepishly open your mouth. You felt filthy for doing something like this, visibly flustered as his digits landed upon your tongue. “Only right if you have a taste.”

You shivered, a noise stirring within your throat as you began to suck, able to taste yourself in the process. He seemed delighted, lips twitching into a subtle smirk as he made you continue to his satisfaction.

“You sure you want this?”

His question was sharp and succinct, annunciated with something penetrating. Billy knew that if he went to his roots, to become something close to who he really was, he ran the risk of scaring you away. Brown eyes bored into you, hawkish and calculating as you withdrew his fingers from your mouth.

“Yes,” You replied, wondering what exactly he had in-mind in terms of being rough. “I trust you.”

A big mistake — your naïveté was laid bare, stretched out along your sleeve. Billy was untrustworthy, a sinister force with the means for destruction, but you were none the wiser. He liked your innocuous nature, the sweetness that oozed from every pore.

“Stay here.” Billy murmured, slipping off of your bed as he made for your bedroom door. You very nearly questioned him, wanting to know where he was going, but a rancorous clap of thunder effectively silenced you as you sank down into your mattress.

You counted — Billy was only gone for three minutes.

When he emerged through your bedroom door, it almost didn’t feel like the same person — not your charming, debonair brown-eyed boyfriend. He seemed possessed, as if something else had grabbed ahold of him. The glint of silver sparkled within his right hand, and that’s when you saw the large kitchen knife.

Something heavy swirled within the pit of your stomach — exhilaration intermingled with fear and uncertainty. You knew that he wouldn’t hurt you, but being rough was a different matter entirely. You gulped, throat thick as Billy moved toward the edge of your bed, available hand grabbing your thigh.

He dragged you close, looming over you with a shimmer in his eyes that told you he was still mostly himself. Even then, that pang of terror gripped you as he prodded the tip of the knife into your thigh.

“Billy,” You exhaled, goosebumps forming underneath the knife’s sharp blade. He continued to trace it across your supple flesh, moving it along your hip bone until he let it ghost above your stomach. “Want you t—to fuck me.” You stammered.

“You want me to fuck you?” Billy murmured, leaning inward, knife in-hand. You felt the blade jut into the swell of your breast, causing you to shudder from the icy chill of the steel. “Maybe I’ll gut you with this, instead.” He stated, though his voice held some modicum of playfulness to it, just enough to ease your nerves.

The doe-eyed look you wore made him frenzied — he wanted nothing more than to see you like this all the time. Billy hastily reached down, unbuckling his jeans with a sudden haste as he crawled on top of you, sticking the tip of the knife into your ribcage.

You gasped, and when you attempted to lean away from the knife, he simply pinned you there. The tip of his cock was oozing with precum, erection desperately grinding along your slit. “Billy!” You whimpered, afraid that he would accidentally dig the knife a little too far.

“Gotta stay still, pretty girl. You don’t want my hand to slip.” He warned, pressing a hot, incendiary kiss to your lips. You reciprocated, cunt throbbing from the added thrill of the blade as he began to ease himself inside of you.

The sudden intrusion made you cry out — you hadn’t done this before or gone this far, and Billy knew that. A myriad of breathy moans escaped you as you attempted to adjust, feeling his leg nudge you apart, spreading you open for him.

He pressed a series of kisses against your face in an effort to soothe you, teeth nicking the soft flesh of your jawline. Billy hesitated, waiting for you to have some time to adjust, heart pounding erratically, akin to the beating of a drum. You reached for his neck, hands tangling together at the nape.

“Still want it rough?” Billy murmured into your ear, hot breath fanning out across the side of your cheek. The blade of the knife prodded into your abdomen, as if it were issuing a stark warning — to turn back, or to proceed. You wanted him more than anything else — rough or not.

You couldn’t deny the excitement and sick thrill you gained from this, as if it had suddenly unlocked unfamiliar territory for you. Billy’s gaze danced with a lustful fire, tongue swiping across his lower lip.

After enough deliberation, you nodded, nearly shying away underneath his shadowed stare. “Yeah, I do.” You whispered, throat becoming thick as he thrust his hips forward, cock burying itself deep into your tight cunt. The feeling was intense, but his eyes were worse.

Billy grinned, throat erupting with a sardonic chuckle as he clicked his tongue. “That’s my girl.” He kept the knife against your stomach, threatening to dig into skin as he began to fuck you. The friction was delicious, breathing heavy, chest to chest, silvery blade prodding at your belly.

“Billy,” You moaned, back arching into the brutality of his thrusts, legs rattling like leaves. His hand grabbed at your leg, hitching it around his waist for better leverage, hips rutting forward in a series of sharp thrusts. “A—Ah! Please don’t stop!”

His teeth brazenly snagged across your lower lip, biting down hard enough to draw blood. He kissed you then — vitriolic copper intermingling between mouths, breath hot and labored as he fucked you in some frenzied state. Your poor cunt clenched around him, drawing him right in.

With a brief adjustment, he moved onto his knees, cock still pounding away at you as he used the grip on your leg as a crutch. Billy dragged the knife along your body, digging the tip into your sternum, letting it ghost above your breasts. He wanted to lick the fear in your eyes — drink it right from the source.

“Look so pretty like this,” He purred, using the cold flat of the knife to press into your chest. It caused you to moan, eyes rolling into the back of your skull as he continued to fuck you at a rather brutal pace. “You like this, don’t you?” Billy huffed, noticing the way your flesh prickled with a barrage of goosebumps.

You nodded, somewhat reluctant to admit to enjoying the roughness of it all. You felt the tip of the knife press just underneath your jaw, causing you to shudder, hips pushing forward as he met you halfway.

Every fiber of your being felt feverishly hot, like a live wire, coursing with raw electricity. The fire that burned bright within your belly demanded to be extinguished, cunt clenching around his cock as Billy continued to fuck you. He very nearly pulled out before ramming himself right back into your tight heat.

Billy momentarily abandoned the knife, grabbing at your hips as he turned you over, manhandling you onto your stomach. You gasped, letting out a series of moans and whimpers as his fingers roamed through your hair, tugging fistfuls of it as he rutted into you.

It was hot and quick, as if he didn’t have any time left at all. “Billy!” You cried out, feeling somewhat abashed as his cock slapped into your cunt, body pressed to yours. Once he’d gotten himself going, you felt the intrusive chill of the knife again, scraping back and forth along your spine.

“I—I’m close,” You panted, hands clawing at the quilt beneath you, nails threatening to pluck the strings and fabric away. Billy didn’t stop for anything, fucking you at a very erratic, feral speed, yanking on your hair. The knife added an element of danger, liquid heat coalescing between your thighs. “Don’t stop.”

“Yeah?” He purred, gritting his teeth together as his cock throbbed with an urgency. Billy groaned — a deep, unrestrained noise, and you yelped when the blade had cut too deep. He didn’t intend to cut you — it was a shallow, superficial wound, but it only drove him crazy. “Fuck, you’re perfect.”

The cut on your back oozed with rivulets of blood, not nearly enough to warrant any concern. You moaned, huffing and writhing atop the quilt as Billy pushed into you once more, cumming inside of you without a second thought.

He pulled out midway through, leaving behind a sticky mess of his seed along your cunt and inner thighs, intermingled with your arousal. Your body twitched and spasmed, awash with a sense of relief.

“Shit,” Billy murmured, clamoring away to find you a towel. He pressed it against your back, hoping to wash away some of the blood, even if it wasn’t very much at all. “I’m sorry, baby. I got carried away — I didn’t even think.” He sighed, watching as you attempted to clean yourself up.

“It’s fine, Billy. I know you didn’t mean to,” A soft exhale escaped you as you attempted to regain your composure, hoping to seize another towel as you sheepishly wiped his cum off of your body. You were sensitive and hot to the touch in the aftermath of it all. “I did enjoy it.”

Billy appeared perplexed, neglecting to comment for now. He wanted to take care of you as any dutiful boyfriend would do, retrieving your panties and nightgown as he helped you get dressed again. Outside, the thunderstorm continued to rage on.

“You did?” You shouldn’t have said anything — Billy’s thoughts went somewhere dark and salacious. Now, he wanted to fuck you with the knife all the time. If he were lucky, you’d bear more than one scar. It was a possessive mark, a reminder that you belonged to him.

“Yeah,” You confessed, laying down on your bed. Billy hastily zipped his jeans up, declining to put his shirt back on, given that it was still soaking-wet from the rain. “That was amazing. I’m glad I got to do it with you.”

As he laid down beside you, his gaze became dark and shadowed once again. His finger idly traced across the newly-formed cut on your back, lips pressing themselves all over your neck. “Maybe we could try something different next time.” He proposed.

“Like what?” You asked, admittedly curious as you snuggled against him. His digits idly roamed throughout your hair, mouth briefly pressing against yours before he withdrew altogether.

There was a sly, indiscernible look within his eyes — you didn’t know if you should’ve been worried or not.

“Maybe a costume next time.” Billy murmured, and despite the bemused grin on your face and his subtle smirk, you were entirely oblivious to the multifaceted meaning of his words.

Fortunately for you, you were safe — for now.

#slasher x reader #slasher x you #slasher x y/n #billy loomis x reader #billy loomis x you #ghostface x reader #ghostface x you #billy loomis #ghostface fanfic #slasher fanfiction #slasher fanfic #slasher fandom #scream #scream fanfiction #billy loomis fic #sunkendreams masterlist

[theapangea]

Missed You Too

Missed You Too

Steve Harrington x reader

Summary: You finally kiss Steve.

A/N: Ok this is one that I posted on AO3 after the end of the last season. Obviously I had to write something good for Steve because they do my boy so dirty!! HE IS NOT SOMEONES SECOND CHOICE!! Hope you enjoy my loves <3!!

The past week was a blur. You didn’t expect your first college spring break to end with you racing back to Hawkins to see the aftermath of what Venca…? One…? Henry…caused. You didn’t want to entirely believe that the Upside Down still existed, that the gate was still open after you all fought so hard to close it time and time again. That’s why you chose to leave Hawkins in the first place, moving across the country to get away from the horrors of that small town. 

But when Jonathan, Will, and Mike show up at your door, pleading for your help to find Eleven, you couldn’t just turn your back on them, not then, not ever.  

You didn’t even know that Joyce, Eleven, and the boys moved to California shortly after you did. No one bothering to stay in touch, mostly you didn’t bother to stay in touch. Almost like you intentionally separated yourself from the people you were closest to. You would never admit it, blaming the lack of communication on school. 

The truth was, you didn’t want to be part of Hawkins anymore. You didn’t want to fear for your life. The scar that Hawkins left on your soul made you paranoid, made it hard for you to live a normal life. Always looking over your shoulder, always ready for a fight. 

The drive back was like riding a bike, you could drive it blind folded if you had to. Everyone thought it would be best if you drove the last bit as Jonathan was barely able to stay awake at this point. The tall, full trees lined the only road in and out of Hawkins. Car after car rushing to escape the town as disaster stuck only nights before. 

Passing shelters, destroyed homes, police and media, all lining the streets trying to make sense of the situation. If only they knew the truth. 

The car swings around the curb, braking suddenly outside of the Wheeler house. You never thought you would be here again, at least not in this lifetime. Pausing, white knuckling the steering wheel as you hear the van door slide open. Mike, Eleven, Will, Argyle and Jonathan exiting the vehicle to be reunited with loved ones again. You take your time getting out of the pizza van, not sure if you wanted to see them, not sure if they wanted to see you .

Finding yourself staying by the van with Argyle. He was new, didn’t know about Hawkins and was thrown into this mess similar to how you all were. How could he continue to want to be part of this? Your gaze drifts down, your chest heaving rapidly. Your feet glued to the ground, unable to move from your spot. 

Closing your eyes, trying to regain a sense of self. It shouldn’t matter that you left then, it should only matter that you are here now . Some relief washing over as you repeat that you are here now, you are here now, you are here now. The held breath releasing as you scan the scene in front of you, the warm breeze picking up making you draw the wild strands of hair behind your ears. 

You watch as Mike hugs his mom, her eyes tender and soft, thanking the gods for him to be returned safely, stating how he is never allowed to leave home again. Her hands never leave his body, afraid that if she lets go then he will disappear without a trace again.

Jonathan approaches Nancy, both unsure of their relationship, both yearning for a solution - but still they hug, the sweet embrace almost made up for the long, angry phone calls and the absence spring break trip. 

Jonathan told you all about his Nancy problems, hoping you would be able to help. He didn’t like your answer of honesty and communication, joking how you were never honest with your true feelings for a certain Hawkins boy. Quietly commenting that you should have made a move a long time ago to get him to move on from Nancy. 

After all this time, you couldn’t believe he was still hung up on her. But maybe he was supposed to move on. Move on to someone who he spent all his time with, to the person he’d drop by at their house unannounced, to the girl who was so tired of the neverending nightmares that she did everything she could to move as far away as possible. Even if it meant breaking the heart of the person she was supposed to end up with.

And there he was…

Boy, was he a sight for sore eyes. The green-blue sweater with the rolled up sleeves to the washed out blue jeans hugging his hips in all the right places. The way his hair was so delicately placed, too messy to be considered neat, too neat to be considered messy. His eyes heartbroken, full of pain and anger. Full of every ounce of love that he is willing to give away in a heartbeat. Your soul aching for him. 

His hand placed on the back of his neck, clearly hurt from the unfolding scene between Nancy and Jonathan. Robin’s hand pressing gently on his back, guiding him away. 

You weren’t surprised that he still had feelings for her. A little annoyed, yes, but not surprised in any way. He would always talk about her, the way she laughed and talked and smiled. And it made you so angry back then. Realizing that the anger never left. 

He hasn’t noticed you yet, his eyes fixated on the ground. Probably hoping to finally disappear. You feel the same. You were two passing ships in the night too afraid to let the other one know you were there, constantly turning off your lights, constantly dropping your sails.

The situation between you both was left pretty rocky. You could never decipher the tension between you both, was it love or indifference? Steve was always there for you and even supported your decision to leave Hawkins, even if that meant never seeing you ever again.

You promised to call each other once a week, which did happen until once a week turned into once a month and once a month turned into dozens of missed calls on both ends. Leaving you both hopeless and alone. Both trying to figure out adulthood without the comfort of a childhood friend.

Before pushing your body away from the car, you look over at Argyle for some sort of friendly relief. After hearing Jonathan complain about you never making a move on Steve, Argyle has been constantly encouraging you since. To not wait for any guy to make the first move, to create your own future. You were surprised at his wisdom.

His kind smile helps ease your nerves as your feet move one in front of the other, your heart beating so loud you can hear it in your ears. The drowning noise of your blood rushing through your body almost makes you want to turn around. Run away like the first time - but you were tired of running. Tired of the ‘what if situation’ that danced between you and Steve. This was your moment and there was no way you were going to turn back. Not this time.

Walking down the driveway, Mrs.Wheeler silently thanks you for helping bring Mike back home safely. Her hand lightly squeezes yours as you pass. Your lips curl, barely a smile forming as your mind is elsewhere.

Nancy watches as you walk by, her body still wrapped in Jonathan’s arms. Her mouth barely parted, maybe she wanted to say something but immediately regretted his decision to make any comment. The strong bond between you both broke when she started to date Steve…then Jonathan. You were civil with one another but you’ve barely spoken a sentence in the past three years. Neither of you wanting to resolve your years-long battle.

Robin’s and Steve’s gaze are on you. Stopping right in front of the pair, realizing you didn’t have a plan once you got to this point. Robin instantly beaming that bright smile that you missed so much. Her hug was intentional, like she was trying to squeeze all the events of this past week out of you. Cleansing you of all the horrors. Your arms wrap around his waist, pulling her deeper, knowing you needed her in that moment. Her comfort washing over you, giving you the strength you so desperately needed. She releases you, arm's length away, her smile inviting and safe. 

Your eyes shifting to Steve. Swearing in that moment that he was smiling but immediately covering it with a cough and a snatch on the nose. 

She squeezes your shoulders before walking away, giving you and Steve a little alone time. Even if that alone time was in front of half your friends.  

“Hey.” You exhale, the tension growing between the two of you. The air suddenly still as his eyes studying your face, his fingers twitching every so slightly. 

In one swift movement, grabbing your wrist, pulling you in for a hug. The instant smell of his cologne filling your head, making you dizzy with the smell of home. No words needed to be spoken between the two of you. He was just glad you were safe, finally in his arms.

You missed him. 

Not just this past week, but for the past 8 months. He pulls you in closer, his body finally relaxing against yours. The breath of fresh air was everything you both needed, everything you have ever wanted, and everything you will ever need. 

In this moment, you were his and he was yours. Everything was right with the world. All the trouble of this past week washes away, your minds clearing, seeing a future with only the two of you. 

You both pull back, speaking in a silent conversation. Neither of you know how to respond in this situation. Both of you felt the buzz, the electricity, the love. 

After all this time, it felt like you never left. The feelings for Steve came crumbling back down. You thought this was your chance, your only chance . Your body makes the decision for you, as your hand wraps around the back of his neck, pulling him down to meet your lips.

Your breath instantly intertwines with his, every inhale pulling him closer and closer. Your other hand balling up into the soft fabric of his sweater as he deepens into you. His hand catching your cheek, his lips soft and warm, gentle yet demanding. The craving of his touch on your skin sends heat waves throughout your body. 

He takes his time, wanting to remember this moment. All the uncertain feelings, all the unfinished conversations, crashing down all around you both. Kissing him was the only way you could tell him everything you had kept in for all these years. 

He pulls back, resting his forehead on yours, pure eyes as he whispers, “I missed you too.” 

~~~

I hope you enjoyed!! thank you for reading and supporting me

#Steve Harrington x reader #Steve Harrington fanfic #Stranger Things x reader #Reader insert #Stranger things #Robin Buckley #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington x fem #Theapangea #steve harrington #mike wheeler #will byers #jonathan byers #nancy wheeler #argyle stranger things