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#he helped me out a lot and on the drive there and then to coffee and then back from coffee he told me a lot about his life
actuallysaiyan · 12 hours
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Hi hi hi I hope you are having a great day!🫶🏻 Can I request Nanami c F.reader please. NSFW. The reader is kinda shy person.
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warnings: flirting, smut, unprotected sex, reader is shyyyy, nipple play, dry humping, rough sex, creampie finish
word count: 1.9k
pairings: Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader
summary: you and Kento are always flirting, despite your shyness, and he finally decides to make his move
taglist: @beneathstarryskies @seireiteihellbutterfly @an-ever-angry-bi @namikyento
The tension between you and Nanami was so thick, you could cut it with a knife. Anyone who was around could tell that he was a changed man around you. How often did he smile at others? How often did Kento even laugh at anyone’s jokes? The often stoic and serious businessman was now more open and sunnier than usual. With you around, things were so much different.
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You are shy with him. He dotes on you a lot. He loves seeing how bashful you are. You’re humble too, which he finds so endearing. With lots of other people wanting to show off all the time, you really show him a side of yourself that most people are too scared to show. You show him vulnerability and softness that he has missed.
Still, with gentle touches and lingering stares, the tension between you grows. You’re much too shy to make the first move. And Kento is enjoying this growing tension more than he’d like to admit. It makes him so hard that by the end of the day, he has to stop into one of the bathrooms to jerk off.
One day, it’s just the two of you in his office. Everyone has taken off for the day, and you two are the only ones left. All day he’s been flirting with you, making you blush and try to hide away from him. But it’s impossible to hide from this beautiful man. He’s got you cornered in the best way possible.
“Let’s end this for today, yeah? I think we deserve a chance to relax.”
And with that, he closes the laptop you were writing your report on. He gently takes your hand, which makes your face heat up. You try your best to look away, but he’s quick to cup your chin and make you look at him. Then he leans in to kiss your cheek so softly.
“You’re so shy, sweetheart. Why don’t you come sit with me and we can talk?”
You nod your head, your mouth feels so dry. But you get up on your shaky legs and you walk over to the leather couch in his office. He helps you sit and then he’s sitting next to you. Kento doesn’t beat around the bush. He’s had enough teasing.
His lips are so soft on yours, but you are shaking as he wraps one arm around you to bring you even closer. His breath is warm on your face as he slowly pulls away. He removes his sunglasses so he can have a better look at you. Your cheeks are all warm and your eyes won’t meet his.
“Do you have any idea how badly I want you?” He kisses you again. “The way you are around me drives me crazy.”
You can barely say anything. You’re just too shy and embarrassed right now. Mostly embarrassed that his words have such an effect on you. Your heart is pounding in your chest, and you feel your hands shaking as you try to come to terms with what’s going on between you and him.
“Don’t be too shy, darling.” He quips, leaning in to kiss you once more.
It’s a searing and heated kiss. His tongue slips into your mouth, caressing yours. He tastes like the bitterness of a black coffee, but it soothes you instantly. The scent of his cologne, musk and leather, completely invades your every sense. When he pulls away, there’s a string of saliva that connects both of you.
“Listen to me, sweetheart…” he kisses you again. “I want to make you feel good, but you’re going to need to help me out a little. Think you can do that?”
You nod your head, “y-yes…”
Nanami smirks, “That’s a good girl.”
And then his hands begin caressing you all over. He starts with your shoulders, rubbing the stress away. Then his hands trail down your arms, gently massaging your fingers. Then back up to your neck, gently rubbing you there too. Then you watch as his nimble fingers begin to unbutton your blouse. You once again cannot look into his eyes.
“What’s the matter? Shy all of a sudden? I thought we were past that.” Nanami smirks at you. 
You try to look at him, but when he has your blouse open, you feel your body quaking. Kento looks at your breasts, his cheeks a little warm now too. Then he dips down to press soft kisses to your throat. Your breath hitches as you feel his lips descending down your neck to your chest. He watches you as he nibbles on your collarbone for a moment.
His large hands cup your breasts and push them together. They’re nearly spilling out of your lacy bra. Kento feels his heart racing in his chest now. Then he reaches around you to unclasp your bra. The moment the garment is loosened, your breasts spill out completely.
“You’re beautiful,” he comments before he helps you out of the bra and the blouse,
His eyes are darkened. The soft amber color now more of a dark whiskey color, and there’s something within them you can barely read. It’s like a wolf looking at a bunny rabbit, just about to pounce on it to devour it whole. You swallow hard and Nanami enjoys watching your reactions like this.
“Scared, little one?” he whispers in a husky tone. “Don’t need to be worried, I’ll take good care of you.”
He then helps you onto his lap. Immediately, you feel his erection poking you. You whine as the stimulation makes you even more bashful than before. Nanami’s not ready to let you go. His hands cup your bare breasts, and he’s playing with your nipples now. Tugging and twisting gently, just enough to have you panting and moaning.
“Now now,” he says softly. “You’ll need to make more noise than that. How else will I know what you enjoy?”
One of his hands comes down to cup your ass, squeezing it softly. You let out a startled squeal, making you move closer to him. You end up accidentally grinding against his cock, which makes him grunt. His eyes are even darker now that you’ve done this.
“Oh is that what you wanted?”
Suddenly, his hands move down to your hips to begin guiding you to grind against him. You lean in to hide your face in the crook of his neck, and he chuckles darkly. He lets you hide for now, but he knows he’s going to get you to talk to him eventually. He’ll have you screaming his name before he’s done.
Your panties get wetter and stickier as he guides you to grind and rub against his erection. Both of you are panting now, and he feels your warm breath on his neck. One of his hands comes up to cradle the back of your head, and he pulls you in for another heated kiss. You moan in between the kisses, and then you shudder as he sucks on your tongue.
“Enough fooling around, huh? You want the real deal, don’t you?”
He then throws you down onto the sofa, spreading your thighs with his knee. Your cheeks are so flush right now. You’re panting from this stimulation. Your panties are so wet, they are clinging to your folds. Kento leans in to capture your lips in another kiss. This time, he slows his pace down a bit.
His long fingers tease and tantalize your clothed pussy, making your hips buck up involuntarily. You’re so wanton for him now, your shyness is beginning to slip away. Still, you’re having a hard time looking into his eyes. Then his fingers curl around the waistband of your panties, pulling them down fully. Your skirt is pushed up around your waist. All that’s left are those cute stockings that cling to your thighs.
“How cute,” Kento comments as he begins kissing down your body again. “So fuckin’ cute for me.”
You whimper as his fingers part your folds, spreading your juices all over your cunt. You let out a whine when he begins to rub your swollen nub. His other hand unbuckles his belt and unzips his pants. With expertise, he pulls his pants down past his ass and he begins to palm the obvious bulge in his boxer briefs.
“Talk to me, sweetheart. Tell me what you need,” he teases you again.
Your heart flutters in your chest. You want him so fucking badly, but you don’t even know what words to use. He watches you carefully, teasing you as he pulls his underwear down. Then he lets his cock slip between your folds, making you even more dizzy than before. Your mouth goes dry once more, and you can’t do much but whine as the tip of his fat cock rubs against your swollen clit.
“Come on, darling. Tell me what you need,”
You won’t make him repeat himself again. Your eyes snap open and you sit up on the couch. You have a newfound burst of confidence, and you pull on his tie to bring him even closer to you. You close the gap between you two, kissing him so passionately. Kento’s cock throbs in excitement.
“I need you,” you manage to say.
Without another word, Kento prods your little hole before slipping into you. His balls are now plus against your ass, and he’s enjoying every little movement of your walls fluttering around him to adjust to his big size. He smirks and licks his lips at the sight of you struggling to take him.
He begins to rock his hips, fast and rough. He’s really had enough of this slow teasing, and he’s going to make sure you both enjoy this. His big hands push your thighs up so that your ankles are resting on his shoulders. With him this deep inside of you, you know you can’t hold on for much longer. His tip keeps bumping against that sweet spot deep inside of you, making you squirm in his grasp.
“Gonna cum for me, pretty girl? Let go for me,”
A few more thrusts has you coming undone. Your eyes screw shut and this intense pleasure builds to its peak. He fucks you rougher and harder, prolonging your sweet orgasm. Your juices are gushing all over him, messing up his pants and his shirt. But Kento doesn’t even seem to care. He continues to rut against you, harder and faster like an animal in heat.
“Gonna cum inside, darling. Is it okay? Can I please cum inside?”
You look up at him and you manage to mutter a “yes” between your sweet cries of love. He holds onto you tighter, and you’re sure you’re going to have his fingerprints bruised onto your skin once he’s done with you. Your mind is turning to mush the more he pounds into your sopping wet pussy. He grits his teeth and his grip on your thighs tightens even more.
“Fuck I’m cumming! I’m cumming inside!”
His cock throbs with every spurt of hot cum he pumps into you. His hips stutter but don’t falter as he fucks himself into you, making his orgasm last even longer. Then slowly and gradually, he stops himself. Kento slumps himself on top of you, but careful not to crush you with his weight. His face rests on your breasts. You reach out to play with his hair.
“No need to be shy with me anymore, okay darling?” He looks up at you.
“Okay, Kento.”
He smiles. He’s in heaven.
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maxsimagination · 4 hours
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can you make a Alanna Kennedy fic ?
𝙬𝙚 𝙙𝙞𝙙 𝙞𝙩 - 𝙖.𝙠𝙚𝙣𝙣𝙚𝙙𝙮
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warnings: none
------
it was that time of the year again.
while most would think of christmas, as a footballer, your first thought is national team call ups.
i wasn’t old by any means, only 21 years old, but i still hadn’t had my first cap.
most of my teammates at manchester knew, especially alanna. both of us were australian, the only difference being that she’d been playing for the matilda’s years longer than i had.
it was a training day today, an early start so i was driving down to my favourite coffee shop before reaching the fields.
“yn!!”
i heard a familiar voice shout after i’d hopped out of my car in the parking lot.
“lani!!”
i knew it was the blonde waiting for me at the entrance, just like she did every morning.
we walked in together, joining the rest of the girls before the coaches called us all out onto the pitch to start training. it was a solid session today, most of the team sweating profusely at the end. gareth had us running drills for at least two hours before we had another hour rest then back in the gym for weights.
finally we were finished and all the girls walked out, so ready to head home. i was walking to my car when alanna sauntered up behind me and jumped into my car with me.
“lani why are you in my car? you have your own car and house.”
i laughed at her antics but she simply grinned at me.
“well, my dear yn. i don’t have my car here today, mary drove me in. and i want to go to your house, it has a cat.”
i should’ve known she wanted to come to see marley. i’d adopted her a year ago when i signed for city and moved to england to play. alanna was the first person i met and had helped me move into my apartment.
marley had taken an instant liking to the tall blonde defender, which had surprised me and alanna. she usually wasn’t keen on people and lani was usually a dog person.
but every time she got the chance lani would tag along to see marley, never missing the chance to see her favourite feline. and she brought cat treats with her.
when we reached my place, marley was right there waiting at the door when we got in. alanna reached down to pick her up, cradling the purring cat to her chest. i laughed at the two, they were the cutest thing i had to get a picture.
the three of us spent that afternoon and evening doing some cleaning, cooking some dinner and watching netflix. and by we i mean me, while the other two sat on the couch and waited for me to finish so they could watch the netflix too.
it was roughly 07:00 pm when my phone rang. i answered, not thinking much of it.
“yn? this is tony gustavsson. how are you?”
i froze for a second, my brain not believing what my ears were hearing.
“yea hi tony i’m good, what can i do for you?”
“well, as you know it’s almost international break, and i’ve yet to select the team for the matilda’s. i would like to personally offer you a place on the squad.”
i sat in silence for a solid minute before i remembered i had to respond.
“you’re joking.”
“i can assure you i’m not.”
tony could tell i was astounded, laughing at how unbelieving i was.
“you want me to play for the matilda’s?”
“yes.”
“oh my god. thankyou.”
“thankyou, yn. i’ll let that sink in for you. have a good night.”
he hung up the call, thank goodness, because i was stunned into a statue. alanna had been comfortably sitting on the couch with marley the whole time when she noticed how shocked i was.
“are you okay?”
i nodded, just needing a bit longer to process things.
“i got the call up.”
alanna snapped her head up.
“no. please don’t tell me you’re joking.”
“i’m not joking. tony just called me.”
it was then that we both broke into squeals and laughter. i was so excited and ecstatic, i couldn’t believe i was getting my first ever national team call up.
“you did it.”
“we did it, lani.
couldn’t have done it without you.”
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brujawrites · 16 hours
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✧ ˚ · . 𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 — 
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𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐: "𝐌𝐨𝐤𝐚 𝐩𝐨𝐭 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲, 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 -- 𝐇𝐞𝐲, 𝐲𝐨𝐮,"| masterlist | next chapter
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contains: suguru x female reader, utahime iori, college au, modern setting, college!suguru, english major!suguru, pining, slow burn, eventual smut, sexual tension, secret crush, developing relationship, 18+ ONLY MDNI
synopsis: cozy cafe date where reader gets to know suguru a bit more! nervous feelings all a flutter! more story set up, including meeting reader's roommate & an unexpected invitation! ao3 - kofi - playlist - pinterest
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"A small concern with how the engine sounds -- We held darkness in withheld clouds,"
— "Keep Driving", Harry Styles
Winter was very much still in season, but the cozy booth in the cafe near campus was warm enough with Suguru’s company. You were a little surprised when he suggested getting a coffee, but grateful for the chance to talk with him one-on-one. Suguru sipped on a flat white, listening to you talk about your method to tackling a shit ton of reading. 
“It sounds really extra, but it helps me pick up on themes and patterns really quickly. Plus,” you continued after taking a sip of your dirty chai latte. “It makes the reading feel like a scavenger hunt.” As fascinated as he was by your strange method of note keeping, Suguru was still struggling to understand the method entirely.  
“A hashtag system...,” he mused aloud. 
"Actually, it's a self-made index," you corrected him with a playful grin. It was rare for you to feel this enthusiastic about something mundane with someone else.  “Sorry, let me relax a bit,” you said, reeling in your enthusiasm. Suguru grinned widely. 
“No, no, it’s okay, it’s cute,” he replied, prompting you to lift your drink to your lips. You hoped the rising steam from the hot tea masked the flush spreading across your face. Suguru's gaze darted back to his cup, searching for a new topic. Grateful for the shift, you welcomed the change, "So, in your self-made index, did any themes or patterns stand out to you from the reading?"
“Well, Wuthering Heights is named after the manor. It’s a novel based on a place. The place is crucial. The atmosphere, the deterioration of the house," you listed points you had notated in your index for class. Suguru’s deep brown eyes were challenging to hold contact with as you spoke. It felt like he was absorbing every word you uttered. Maybe you just weren’t accustomed to that level of attention, especially not from the guy you’ve been eyeing for the last couple of years. 
“Okay, wait, this is actually making a lot of sense,” he mused. “I think I’m… impressed?” His unexpected admission caught you off guard, and you blinked in surprise at his words.
“Why? Because there’s a meaning to my madness?” You smirked at the boy playfully. “When you reduce the interesting parts of the story, like the failed upkeep of Wuthering Heights overtime, Heathcliff’s disposition — well, just reduce it to a simple word that describes it, and it turns out deterioration is a huge theme.” You paused to analyze Suguru’s expression; silent, stoic, listening… or possibly bored? The unreadable mask on his face made it hard to decipher his thoughts.
“So, you just take those thematic concepts to build an argument, keeping track of the quotes that touch on the themes, then later when you’re writing a paper, or trying to contribute to the class discussion, you just flip through your notes, and boom.” You meet his gaze again, trying to wrap up your little demonstration quickly. “It argues for itself.” 
Even if you weren’t boring him or talking too much, just the notion haunted you. You found yourself scanning the cafe, half-expecting familiar faces to distract you or save the conversation. A sudden vulnerability crept in, an unsettling feeling you hoped wasn’t plastered on your face. Despite eagerly awaiting Suguru’s response, you just felt yourself becoming a little too... conspicuous. Visible? Was that the right word? 
As he absorbed your words, Suguru found his mind drifting from the conversation at hand to the growing intrigue about the girl before him. It wasn’t that he hadn’t noticed you before, but he'd never made an effort to catch your attention. Last year, during that poetry class, he only caught a glimpse of you, but the aftermath left him feeling a bit… off-kilter. Chagrin? Was that the right word? Suguru had never been the polished academic type, so despite putting in considerable effort, it didn't always reflect in his grades.
To him, you were almost out of reach. Almost unreadable. He hadn’t stepped up to the challenge that is you, but this semester — his last semester — why shouldn’t he? Getting to sit with you while you talked him through your complicated note taking process was nice, but he wondered if he could somehow get you off that topic. 
“So this is how you managed to ace Professor Sheppard’s Form & Theory class last spring?” He asked, genuinely interested, but the smirk on his face threw you off. He wasn’t making fun of you, was he?
“I honestly don’t know what happened in that class. Or the one I took with him last semester.” You admitted, hoping to come across humbly. Suguru’s eyes widened at your statement. 
“You’re shitting me,” he said in disbelief. “You took another class with that asshole?” The laughter spilled from your mouth before you knew it was there. Obviously the disdain for that professor was common among the English Department at your university, but expressing it aloud seemed so taboo. 
“Yeah, dude,” you nodded soberly. “And what makes it worse is he used me as an example for the class.”
“What?” Suguru looked genuinely annoyed for a second before you realized how bad ‘ being used as an example’ sounded. 
“Oh!” Your hands waved him down like he was a flame you were trying to shoo away from getting too big. “Not like that, he just made me seem like a star student. He bragged about my organization skills and…” your voice trailed off thinking back on the fall semester from hell you just escaped. “It was pretty bad. Last semester was hard on my mental health, you know?” You left it at that, not wanting to dive too deep into details unprompted. 
Meeting Suguru's gaze felt like being ensnared; there seemed to be no escape from his piercing eyes.
Meeting Suguru’s gaze felt like a giant spotlight; there seemed to be no escape from being perceived by him at that moment. He was focused on your words, waiting for the next couple of sentences to fall from your lips. The truth of the matter is last semester was the lowest you’d ever felt and you weren’t sure how appropriate it was to bring up such personal issues. Lowering your eyes in response, Suguru somehow got the hint you didn’t give. 
He glanced down at his watch before meeting your gaze again. “I get it. If you ever want to talk about it more, you know where I am every Tuesday and Thursday morning,” he grinned sheepishly before gathering his coat & bag. “I’ve gotta run to catch this sociology lecture, but let’s hang again.” His smile almost left you stunned.
“Of course, Suguru,” you said with a smile. “See you Thursday.”  As he stepped away towards the exit and to class you took it upon yourself to use the rest of your time as productively as possible. Taking out your laptop, you started to go through the motions of opening up your calendar, checking your email, and other general housekeeping, but stopped when you reached for your drink and saw Suguru’s cup.
Your lips pressed into a small smile as you started to process the moment you were so desperately trying to disconnect from. You just had coffee with Suguru Geto. A smile crept up on your lips at the thought of him giving you his attention as you spoke. A brief lapse of insecurity ran through your core as you worried how you came across. He had seemed friendly enough, but, ultimately, you worried about being overwhelming. Sharing too much. Being too much. 
Suguru didn’t think that of you, though. In fact, as he moved away from your conversation, a renewed curiosity swirled within him. Thoughts of how to recreate that moment lingered in his mind, weaving through various scenarios. And to think you were about to open up to him. A subtle, knowing smile played on his lips as he made his way across campus to his next lecture with a lightness to his step. He could sense so much just beneath the surface of your expression, he knew he could figure you out. At least, he hoped.
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The rest of the day went by unassumingly. After attending another lecture, you trudged back to your apartment through the wintry slush that lined the sidewalks. The second you unlocked the front door and stepped inside, your nose was greeted by the sweetness & warmth of cinnamon. Kicking off your shoes, you yelled out your arrival to Utahime before moving towards the kitchen. 
“Oh, hey!” Utahime greeted you with a big smile. “I’m making milk and rice.” she was all bundled up in a snuggie and slippers as she stirred the pot full of your favorite dessert. 
“It smells so good, dude,” you breathed in the aroma almost desperately before turning to take a seat at the small table in the kitchen. There is a part of you that wants to gush about your first class of the day and how you’ve effectively launched a self-imposed campaign to get to know Suguru Geto before graduation. How he called you cute , how could you forget that till now?
“I figured after being so brave & tackling the first few days of class in such horrible weather, we deserved a treat.” You couldn’t agree with her more. She began to serve scoops of the concoction into bowls, sprinkling cinnamon on top as an extra garnish. Having Utahime as a roommate was nice. She really cared for you like a big sister. 
When you joined the sorority, you had been getting to know girls for maybe three weeks before your Big was assigned to you, the Little. They were meant to be mentors for the new members to look up to & get guidance from them, so a lot of the pairings were based on similar goals or habits you two may have shared. You remember having to rank on a scale of 1-5 in level of importance different categories like “leadership,” “philanthropy,” or “social life,” -- and you, as ambitious as ever at nineteen years old, prioritized leadership; this was before you realized nobody actually cared about anything other than impressing fraternity boys from high ranking fraternities. The #1 match for you was -- surprise, surprise -- Utahime Iori, the current Vice President at the time you joined. 
Other than your ambition, there were just a handful of things you two had in common, but you really admired her. She carried herself with gravity and grace which was something you felt you could stand to learn a bit more about. There were parts of you that you kept away from her, like your smoking habit, she knows about who you hook up with, but never the details. There were times where you were sure she was disappointed in a couple decisions you’ve made in that area, but she was always there for you at the end of the day. This was your second year living together in the three years you’ve known each other. Lucky for you, she chose to enroll in your university’s master program instead of going elsewhere, so you were able to keep your roommate.
She really did care about you, but, no, you decided you wouldn’t bring up Suguru and your little coffee date this morning. Not until it actually became something. You silently began to snack on the milk & rice Utahime made for the both of you when she excitedly gasped to get your attention.
“Oh, there’s an unofficial mixer with Pike on Thursday night!” she beamed at you, trying to gauge your reaction. Even in her master program, Utahime maintained such strong connections in her social circles that she was telling you about mixers before actual active members were able to. “It’s Jersey Shore themed,” she grinned like an idiot while you laughed off your sour face.
“Everybody’s so creative,” you mused sarcastically. She nodded while taking a sip from her tea. 
“Yeah, right? I know exactly what I’m wearing though. I figured we could pre-game here with a couple sisters before ubering over there fashionably late.” 
By “fashionably late,” Utahime was referring to the unspoken rule about mixers. The university representatives set rules in place to avoid things like hazing or underage drinking. Mixers are required to have a 30 minute sober period, but after that it’s anyone’s game. Most of the time what happens is everyone shows up 35 minutes late, treats the mixer like a pregame, & once the party starts itself the fraternity usually opens up their doors and sends out their address to begin hosting the weekend’s parties. 
“So, you’re coming, right?” Utahime pressed the question with her intense eye contact. This probably had something to do with how reclusive you became last semester. You would miss out on functions, leave parties unannounced and by yourself, only to end up walking home alone through the rain, and writing some sort of melodramatic poem. Utahime never understood why you got in those moods, she definitely didn’t know how to help other than to encourage you to branch out. You looked up at her and smiled. 
“Yes, I’ll go with you.” Finishing up your bowl of rice, you stood up before placing it in the sink. “I’ll start putting together my outfit,” you added, leaving the kitchen to retire to your room.
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deadsetobsessions · 3 months
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He could overlook a lot of things, but this was getting ridiculous. You’d think seasoned vigilantes would have better excuses prepared, but Danny had caught that flash of panic that crossed Tim’s face as Danny came face to face with Tim dragging an unconscious Steph to her designated room in the manor.
“Uh.”
“Danny! Uh, Stephanie brained herself- uh, sliding down the bannisters and- pleasedon’ttellBruce.”
Danny blinks, staring at Tim and then very pointedly, very slowly, turned his head back towards the direction he came from: the main hall… where the bannisters were. He wonders what vigilante hijinks they were trying to hide from B this time.
Tim coughs, trying to inch Stephanie away. “Uh. She was doing… cartwheels?”
Danny let his eyes slowly take in the bruises that were clearly not from “cartwheeling in the mansion” on the both of them. There’s a huge bandaged cut on Steph’s forearm and a giant bruise on the edge of Tim’s jaw. Tim’s face twitches nervously, not that anyone else would have noticed- except Danny has enhanced ghost senses and could feel the panic coming off of his adopted brother.
“You know…” Shit, what does he do? Not knowing would be so much easier if these idiots gave him good excuses! “I don’t think I want to know what you two have been up to… but should I be worried for your, uh, physical health?”
“Nope!”
“… Okay.” He says. Tim opens his mouth to make further excuses but Danny adds quickly, “But don’t tell me, because if Bruce asks, I want plausible deniability.”
Cartwheels, Danny’s ghostly ass. Luckily, this show of doubt reaffirms Tim’s belief that Danny believes them all of the other times. Danny grins inwardly, planning capitalizing on the guilt that flashed over Tim’s face.
“Deal.”
“Want help?” The halfa points at Steph, who’s still being dragged over the carpet by a noodle armed Tim. Danny knows Tim’s strong, he’s a vigilante, but it’s funny watching him pretend to struggle.
“Please. I’m so tired right now.” He looks it too. Danny’s brows furrow with genuine concern when he takes in Tim’s drowned raccoon look. He picks up Steph, firmly removing her from Tim’s suddenly weak grip. Being careful to avoid her injuries, Danny nods at the door to her room. Tim cracks it open and does a little showy gesture towards the inside.
“C’mon, we’ll tuck her in and then I’ll tuck you in.”
“What, you don’t have to do that.”
“If you don’t let me tuck you in and make sure you sleep, I’ll tell Alfred who really accidentally poured boiling hot coffee on his azaleas last week. And I’ll sic Dick on you and tell him you haven’t been sleeping enough.”
“You drive a hard bargain,” Tim grumbles. “But fine. It’s really not my fault I’m this tired. A missing spleen is hard to handle, you know.”
“Yeah, missing an organ sucks,” Danny says, shit eating grin hidden long enough to catch the contemplative bloodhound look that passes over Tim’s face.
“Which- uh, which one of your organs is missing?”
“Liver.” Danny says, remembering the flashes of pain. He tilts his head away to hide the grin at Tim’s panicked face.
When he tucks Tim in, he pretends to believe Tim’s sleeping act and left his room while mumbling about the Wayne’s clumsiness and bruises and stocking up on bruise cream. He couldn’t even enjoy Tim’s floundering, this time, worried as he is.
——
“Brother.” Danny half turns his head, just to beam a sunny smile at Cass. He signs an exuberant hello. The halfa hangs up his coat as he addresses his adopted sister.
“Cass! What’s up?”
“Dinner.” She smiles back, signing that Alfred wanted them to the dinning room post haste. The main dining room, because rich people were fruit loops and Batman is totally included. Cassandra looks down and gasps.
What…?
Oh. Fuck. Danny glances down. He genuinely forgot about that.
“Huh.”
“Okay?” Suddenly, Cass is right next to him, hand reached out and hovering over the actual knife Danny forgot was sticking out of him. At least it’s where his liver should be, so he won’t have to pretend.
“Oh. Yeah, I’m good. Don’t have a liver.” Danny decides on the spot that he’s not gonna mess with Cass. She smiled the same as him. “Got mugged on the way back but I think they said I could keep the knife, right?”
“Danny.” She’s frowning at him. He feels like he just kicked tiny Cujo. But he doesn’t feel bad enough to blurt everything out.
“Here. You can have it if you want?” Danny casually pulls out the knife and holds the wound together with his bare hands. Cass looks more alarmed. She bodily picks up Danny and starts running.
“Woah!”
Cass throws him at Alfred, gently.
“Miss Cassandra! Why, I never-!” Alfred pauses in surprise.
“Uh. Wow, Cass. You’re really strong.” Danny pipes up, hand still over his gushing wound.
She ignores him, pointing at Danny and telling Alfred, “Hurt. Got mugged. Dumb.”
“Hey! It’s not my fault Gothamites are ready to jump people at any moment. Besides, it’s daytime. It’s not like the vigilante furries are out to save my butt. I think I did really well coming back safe, you know?”
“Hurt. Forgot the knife. Was in him.”
“Master Danny!”
Danny pouts. He also knows there’s a discreet camera in the corners of the sitting room, so he’s definitely hoping he could phase into the cave when Barbara eventually tells the group that he called them “vigilante furries.”
Alfred clucks his tongue and set to work patching him up. Danny tries not to bask in the careful way Alfred tended to his wounds. It reminds him too much of Jazz, if Jazz was British and a man with greying hair.
But because they were watching him and he was watching them in return, Danny noticed the moment Alfred’s hands stalled and Cass’ gaze got intense. What now…?
Oh, fuck, his vivisection scar. Oops. Danny smiled, channeling Dani (his lovely clone sister) at her most innocent.
Cass smiled back, just as sunnily, fists tightening at her side in repressed fury.
——
“Cass? Why’d you call us?”
“Yeah, baby bat. I got a couple o’ smugglers to talk to.”
Cass paces.
“What is it, Cassandra?” Damian tuts impatiently.
“Danny. Has… scars. Autopsy. But was struggling. When cut.”
“What.”
“A vivisection, Master Jason.” Alfred’s voice was crisp and eerily cold. His hands are folded, rage only held back by his sheer will and a well practiced sense of propriety.
“We find. Who hurt him,” Cass snarls. “We. End.”
Jason’s eyes glint green, hands going to his guns. “Fine. By. Me.”
“It does tie in with the dead comment. I wonder what happened to him.” Tim clacks away at the bat computer, furiously looking into the matter already. Bruce has taken to prowling, stressed out at the prospect of one more of his children- not a vigilante at that- getting hurt the way Jason had. Worse, even. A vivisection. He was alive, dissected. Aware enough to struggle. Dick looked like he was torn about hunting down and lunging at whoever hurt Danny to rip their throats out with his bare teeth versus the urge to go back up to the manor and wrap Danny in bubble wrap.
In the corner, Danny was having a quiet breakdown because he came here to watch them react to vigilante furries, not offering to murder the people who vivisected him. What the fuck?? He ran his hands through his hair, invisible.
——
“Oh, by the way, we should consider more daytime shifts.”
“Why?” Spoiler asks Barbara.
“Danny got mugged. And called us the nightly furries.”
“The fuckin’ what-?” Jason chokes out, laughing. Bruce stops his pacing, body language becoming slightly offended.
Danny muffles a laugh only Alfred would have heard.
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inkskinned · 4 months
Text
it isn't really complicated, but i still can't tell my grandma about it. my girlfriend is also my boyfriend and i'm her girlboyfriend and there are a lot of days this feels like smoothing sheets over a good mattress. it feels like getting a cup of good hot chocolate. we paint our nails lesbian flag pink, and i watch her eyelashes make shadows on her cheeks. she wants to kiss me because i am really good at baking, and i want to kiss her because when i am freaked out about how i spilled coffee, she just hands me extra napkins and helps me clean. he is so handsome i want to eat my fist. they once just winked at me and i couldn't talk for like the next fifteen minutes.
i haven't seen the L word and i was raised catholic. my earliest experiences with queer relationships were through harrowing conversations and hushed questions and blood on the ground. i didn't like boys soon enough. what, are you gay? asked to a 6th grader, almost like a demand.
when she is asleep next to me and i can feel the dreams run up and down her body, i pretend we are both somewhere in the stars. i like to picture a future full of fruit trees, and writing him poetry. sometimes she wakes up, has a whole conversation with me, goes back to sleep, and utterly forgets that we ever even spoke. she is always kind to me, even in that liminal half-there ghost. i like the croaked, raw way her voice sounds in the very-early morning, the way she always seems surprised i'm still here, and home.
on the internet, there are a lot of people who would be annoyed by both of us, and how labels must be pruned into orchids. a box has to hold and define the insides. people must be organized.
we went on a date last night, and the host said, oh, table for 2 nice ladies? neither of us are ladies, but also we are very much 2 nice ladies. i have been wearing her sweater nonstop. he has frequently been forced into wearing my taylor swift official merch quarter-zip because i was worried about him catching a chill, and you simply cannot be cool in an official taylor swift quarter-zip. do not worry: they listen to better music than i do, and their voice sounds like leaves falling.
i wear the skirts and makeup and i am better with spackle and know how to drive stick. recently someone commented on my work - you're just a man trying to reappropriate lesbian spaces. sometimes i feel like she is a clementine to me, and sometimes i feel like he is a german shepherd and sometimes i feel they are a bird. i like watching his hands over a guitar. can i write this poem, even? how can you be a lesbian if you're sometimes with a man? or you are the man?
how can i, huh. you know, our first date lasted 3 days. we'd been flirting for over a year before i finally asked her out. i'd already written her into poetry. she'd already written me into songs.
last night, in the late night, when they woke up again, confused about where they were, they said - oh, thank god. this is your arm. there's just something so precious to me about the specifics, the denotation that the arm was (thank god!) mine. i really liked that definition. i liked the obvious relief because i understand it.
i say yeah, i have a partner. i mean - oh. thank god. it's your arm.
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lenny-1of2dads · 1 month
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I was a second year student in college with a problem. I was using alcohol to help solve it. It was the summer between semesters and my parents are paying a condo mortgage to keep me here all year. That was their way of dealing with it.
Mark was X military and worked as a cop and owner of the condo next door. He has come to my aid three times before. Once due to my water heater leaking, and getting my key in the key hole for being too drunk twice.
This was the first time he picked me up from the gutter. Turning into the driveway I hit the curb. My motorcycle slides out from under me on wet payment to the center of the street. As i go splat by the curb. I was pretty sure Mark was naked and threw on some shorts to come help. He made sure I was still breathing and no broken bones. He got my bike up and out of the street . Then went to help me stand up. In the process he throws me over his shoulder. Then he takes me to his condo and throws me on a bed in the downstairs bedroom.
Mark calls a friend and asks if can come over to see if i have a concussion. He hangs up and tells me to take my clothes off. I could be in shock, have broken bones, or be bleeding and not know it. Wet clothes are just harder to get off. I was admittedly still drunk. Mark comes over and helps me. He explains we can not call an ambulance I will get a DUI for driving drunk. I asked how's my bike and was told I will need a new mirror. Removing my jeans revealed no underwear, which he complained about because a female was coming over to check me out. I pointed out he was not wearing any either.
He said. Close your eyes. As he striped off his wet basketball shorts exposing himself in the process. He puts underwear on and new dry shorts. and throws me a pair to put on myself. Complaining I didn't close my eyes while he was naked. The young blond lady in the doorway that was watching me put shorts on said. Maybe he is gay and likes what he was looking at.
I went postal. It took them both to restrain me. I was in handcuffs. Mark asked for an explanation before he calls the police and my parents.
It was fairy simple I was doing my best to meet and find a girlfriend. It was rejection after rejection. They all think I am gay or have an excuse. One girl suggest I date high school girls because we could not have sex. Another one broke up with me because she met a guy she want to lose her virginity to.
The young lady does this thing with a flashlight and my eyes. Asks' Mark for a bottled water. He leaves and she explains that Mark is a gay and her friend. He likes me a lot is very concerned because this is getting worse. She tells me I don't know you or what you are into. You need help. You should let him help. She takes the bottle water says no concussion, if I get sick it could be alcohol poison. She will call him later. Mark sits down next to me on the bed with the keys to the handcuffs. Before I let you go I have a few questions.
Why are you so desperate to have a girlfriend right now?
I explain that is how it is supposed to work. You go to college meet the girl of your dreams and get married have kids. That has been the plan along.
Mark says it is just a picture in your head . Implanted by your parents. Most people are getting education and a job first these days. He laid down on the bed next to me. I am under the covers still handcuff. He is laying on top of the covers looking into my eyes. Was this the plan your dad used.
I say yes.
To hide the fact you liked guys?
I start to cry. Say I don't want to be gay. I want to ba a dad. I want a family. Mark suggests I get some sleep, leaves me handcuffed and closes the blackout curtains and the door to the room. I wake up with my normal hangover and look for light. I sit up in the bed and remember I fell asleep with handcuffs on. I open the door to light of the room and the smells of food cooking. Mark recommends coffee the caffeine with help the headache. I sit down and he pours a cup in front of me. Followed by a plate of french toast and scrambled eggs. I was starving and it was obvious and made myself slow down. I try to make conversation. I thought you were married with children. He confirms they are at their mothers for two weeks. I can meet them next weekend. How does a straight guy married with two kids wake up gay one day?
It is the picture in your head how you think it is supposed to be. I knew I was gay and denied it. Lived a totally fake life. I had a wife and two kids before my wife decided she like another guy better and asked for the divorce and gave me the kids. I realised was pretending to be straight because I could not admit to myself I was attracted to guys.
I help clear my dishes. Mark is standing next to me at the sink. He smiles and says. I have a real easy solution if you want to try it. Could solve you whole problem in a matter of a few hours.
What is that I ask? hoping for a cure.
You get out of those shorts back in bed and I will show you some of the best things about being gay. By the time we are finish you will not only agree that you are gay but you love it and will also agree to marry me.
I respond You don't know me. Just for him him to reminded me he was the one that showed my mom, dad and me the condo over two years ago. He has checked on me everyday ever since and fell in love with me doing it. He knows I work part time at a liquor store and a Cubs fan. Then he points out I am ticklish as his fingers touch my sides. I back away as he follows me. As I duct back into the bedroom as he says lose the shorts. He reminds me he has handcuffs and I retreat under the covers. Afraid to exposés myself I remove the shorts and throw them at him as if that would slow down his advances. As well as admission that fine this was happening.
Saying slow the F down. He slowed way down. Got all romantic. Step one how two guys kiss. Step two was making out. He crawled on top of me and start chewing on my neck I stopped fighting the idea I was not gay and we went forward from there. With in months I had that family I so desperately wanted. That picture in my head adjusted replacing the finding a wife and mother of my children. To being a wife and stay at home dad with mom duties. I got a teaching degree and teach middle school, and married a cop with two kids.
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slvtforfiction · 4 months
Note
Jake Webber smut where he tells you to sit on his face. That would be soooo hot
“Sit,don’t hover.”
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☆ Omg anon,ur amazing
☆ Lots of love
☆ Jake Webber X Reader
☆ Pandemic times!
☆ Smut
☆ Masterlist
☆ Hey guys! Before anything else I would ask you to request anything you want because I've lost a lot of motivation and it would really help! :D (if requests are open.)
☆ Creds to @cafekitsune for dividers :)
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"Fine, no orgasms and no sex for a week." He told me.
"Does that include masturbating?" I asked him with an innocent smile.
"Yes,Y/n." He snapped back.
Now how did we get here?
Well...
The break down of it being I was being a brat, which then led to him on top of me pinning me down before that sentence left his mouth.
Easy challenge,he will give up so easily, he loves it as much as I do and he won't last 3 days.
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Day 1;
We still cuddled up to each other last night but other than that nothing,I gave him 2 days more and he will for sure break.
Day 2;
I barely saw him at all today,he had something to do with Johnnie but I thought when he got home he would have broken that pact,turns out I was wrong.
I'm sticking with my initial impression with 24hours left though.I'm struggling and he seems to be just fine.
It’s killing me to see how easy he thinks this is when I’m beyond tempted to pull a vibrator out of my drawer.
Day 3;
This is killing me,I thought he would have given up, but he hasn't,he hasn't even mentioned it and it's driving me insane.
I can't give up though,l bragged about it to him all day after his said that saying that I would last so much more than him.
Im as stubborn as he is and he knows it.
Day 4;
I'm fucked,he keeps grabbing my thighs and I'm melting,he knows it.
I didn't think he'd last this long,sometimes I can hear him in the kitchen talking to Colby about the challenge and how easy it is.
Day 5;
2 days left and I think Jake will break,he was talking to Colby earlier about how hard it was for him,metaphorically and physically.
Turn of events from yesterday then,I thought to myself with a smile.
He got hard last night,I felt him pressing into me I hoped he was giving up,but nope.
Day 6;
I give up.
He pressed his back into me,his hard on pressing into my ass.
He grabbed something from the cupboard above me in the kitchen and then moved away from me trying to palm himself from the painful boner he wasn't trying particularly hard to hide.
Maybe I won't have to give up?
Maybe he will.
I can only hope.
"Mh how about you fuck me? I know you have a hard on."I told him teasingly.
"You know I can't." He told me continuing to cook.
"Well how about you give up the challenge? You don't want blue balls." I told him with a sly grin forming.
"Fuck off Y/n." He told me angrily.
I smiled and walked away to the sofa reading a book that Kat had gave me for Christmas.
During the Pandemic,christmas wasn't a great time for everyone,very scary at the least.
I heard the oven being switched off but I didn't dare to turn around,so I kept my head buried in my book.
"Stop fucking reading that book and give up the challenge." Jake said into my ear from behind me clearly wanting to fuck.
"Mh,I don't think I will." I told him with a smile slapped across my face before returning to my book.
"You want this as bad as me,I know you do Y/n,I heard you talking to Kat." He told me.
Now I can't lie I did talk to Kat about how I was struggling but I didn't realise Jake was listening behind us.
"And I heard you talking to Colbs,not to mention how you've pressed 2 hard ons into my back side just begging for my attention." I smiled back at him dragging out the 'begging' and turning around to look at him leaving my book on the coffee table.
I hummed at his response of gritted teeth and a clenched jaw.
God he looks beautiful.
I snapped out of it before kissing his Addams apple.
"Hm I'll give up if I can top?" I hummed looking at him. "No,Y/n,Just give up now." He snapped getting extremely sexually frustrated.
I hummed at his response as if saying no and then walked off to the bedroom.
He followed behind me and sat on the bed before I could. “I give up,sit on my face.” He said.
And I smiled turning around,more of a nervous smile to be honest. “What?” I asked unsure if I heard him correctly.
“You heard me,strip and sit.” He told me and I smiled,turning around as I took off my leggings and panties,walking over to the bed where he lied.
I sat on top of the prominent imprint on his trousers,moving my hips around as I smiled at him teasingly.
“Do you give up the challenge?” I asked him,grinding and grinning on top of him. “Yes,for fucks sake,stop being a brat.” He said and with that he lifted my body above him and sat me down on his face.
I lifted myself off slightly not wanting to suffocate him “Sit,don’t hover.” He told me,his voice sending shivers down my spine as the vibrations hit my pussy.
I sat down as he immediately started to lap at my clit. I moaned out of pleasure,my pent up sexual tension leaving my body as I relaxed.
He slipped his tongue in and out of my hole,my body feeling as if I was in heaven.
I relaxed further as he pumped his tongue in and out,his hands holding up my hips as I let him take full control.
“Jake please!” I all but screamed as I felt the knot in my stomach tighten,knowing I wouldn’t be able to stop it from snapping soon enough.
“Cum for me love.” He told me as I came on his face,riding through my high on his tongue.
“Jake please,too much.” I whimpered out as he continued his movements.He flipped me over,his head resting between my thighs as he continued.
I grabbed a hold of his hair,pulling him further into me and simultaneously pushing him away.
I came undone on his tongue again,riding through my high on his face as he let me down gently.
He kissed my thighs as I whined out,the subspace staying engraved into my mind.
He walked into the bathroom to grab a wet cloth to wash his face and clean up my thighs.
He tried his best to gently clean me up,apologising whenever he hit an especially sensitive area.
He laid down next to me,pulling me into his chest and taking his hands through my hair.
“You lost.” I laughed weakly at him as I smiled up at his looking into his eyes.
“Yeah but I’ve won the most beautiful girlfriend in the world.” He told me as he held my head close to him,pulling the covers up with his other hand.
“Go to sleep princess,you deserve it.” He said with a smile,I knew I would make it up to him in the morning I thought as I drifted off.
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queenimmadolla · 30 days
Text
𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐌𝐞
(A Lisa Frankenstein, Eddie Munson AU)
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next ┊ 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
Summary: After a series of unfortunate events in your life, and lonelier than ever, you often turn to a dead guy and his tombstone for comfort. Never in your wildest, fucked up dreams did you imagine he’d turn to you for the same thing, but you find yourself hiding a living corpse, bringing him further to life, reaping some justice, and cutting off a lot of body parts all while trying to fit in and falling in love.
a/n: Part One is here! Just want to say thank you to my friends for hearing me rant and rave about Lisa Frankenstein for weeks now, though I’ve been unbearable with this concept in my head. This will be the longest chapter, just to establish some stuff, but we’ll get to the slaying! Hope you love Undead!Zombie!Eddie as much as I do. Happy reading! (p.s.,there will be some romantic smut in a later part)
Chapter warnings: a bit steve harrington x reader, some eddie munson x other female, death of a family member, brief description of SA (bordered with RED DIVIDERS if you’d like to skip), mistreatment of Reader, suicidal ideation (reader just has dark humor), implied murder, very campy, very cunty.
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THEN, 1986.
  “Where you head’n too so in a hurry, boy?” Wayne Munson asked, sat on the couch with a mug of steaming hot coffee in one hand and the television remote in the other as he watched his nephew bounce around the trailer, grabbing all of the the items he let haphazardly around. 
  Wayne always told him to pick up his things, but like the rambunctious boy he was, there was no breaking out of his messy habits.
  “I got people to see, pops. Things to do. Trouble to ‘cause, cops to anger, you know the drill.” Eddie didn’t even need to turn around to know his uncle was scowling but he was proven correct when he turned to throw his father figure a shit eating grin over his shoulder, “Kidding, old man. Mom had me baptized when I was a baby, remember? I can do no wrong, like Achilles.” 
  “Wha’?”
  “Ugh, dad. If I have to explain the joke, it ruins it. I’ll be back by dinner, alright?”
  Wayne fixed him with a pointed look, “You best be on your best behavior, you hear me?”
  “Always.” Eddie gave a mock salute before dipping out the front door, still grinning as he tossed the keys of the van and caught them midair. 
  While he wasn’t necessarily going to cause trouble, he certainly would be providing the fun grass, powder and pills that were often behind it. Eddie knew Wayne was aware of what he did, had implied so when talking about how he knew Eddie was a good kid, just living in the wrong circumstances sometimes. Always said he wanted nothing but the best for his boy and for Eddie to realize he was meant for more than what this particular town forced on him. 
  Made Eddie’s chest tight, but seeing things like the broken patio board—Eddie had accidentally stomped through it after seeing a spider—reinforced Eddie’s belief that he’d much rather help out any way he could than let his uncle bear the financial weight of providing for him. 
  The van roared to life, after sputtering for a good seven seconds, and Eddie revved the engine a little. As he let her warm up, something in the side mirror caught his attention. 
  Someone. 
  Sheila. His neighbor in the trailer across the street. She was hauling a box to a car, looked rather heavy and Eddie would have dropped everything to scramble over and help her, had it not been for Mr.Brawn at her side. 
  Eddie watched as the guy, who stole the girl he was in love with right out of his arms, grabbed the box. The two lovers exchanged words which ended with them laughing at something as she followed him to the car.
  He slid the box into the packed car as she climbed into the passenger seat, and before Eddie knew it, he was watching her drive away, right out of his life forever.
  Eddie hadn’t even realized he was clutching his steering wheel so tight, his knuckles were straining against the skin, hot tears pooling at his waterline but he refused to let them fall. He’d shed more than enough tears over her, over what could have been.
  They started off so promising; throwing flirty waves from their bedroom windows, occasionally at school, before she approached him for weed. After that, came the whirlwind romance and Eddie hadn’t considered himself a romantic before—hadn’t had a whole lot of opportunities to make that discovery but he was so fucking romantic. A big sap. And he wasn’t ashamed of it. 
  Until she’d graduated, and he hadn’t. Again. Turns out, not trying at academics all year and then aiming to ace finals wasn’t enough. 
  Suddenly, all the bullshit naive plans they had to run away somewhere far from Hawkins weren’t possible. At least, Sheila couldn’t with Eddie. 
  He lost her to a guy in another band, had made the mistake of taking a piss after he and Corroded Coffin performed to their tiny ass crowd, and had come back to see her talking to the keyboardist of the band that had gone on before them. She looked entranced, leaning forward to hang on to whatever the fuck he was saying. When Eddie had gone over to ask her if she was ready to head out, fully prepared to tuck her under his arm and way from the keyboardist, she’d insisted and told him to his face, in front of his apparent competition, that she was gonna stick around a little longer and he should head out without her.
  He’d spent the entire night pacing in front of his window, glancing out of it every five minutes and every time he heard a pair of wheels turn onto the dirt road. Eddie got his confirmation when his car happened to be one of them. He’d watched, heart splintering, as the keyboardist got out of the car and walked around to open her door for her before they disappeared into her trailer. Eddie knew her dad worked nights. Knew what she and that musician were doing and he’d thrown up the entire contents of his stomach at the imagery before passing out.
  Eddie woke up to Sheila hovering above him and framed by the glow of the bathroom light like some angel. She’d dumped him right there and left the spare key he’d trusted her with on the table.
  And now, she was living her dream with someone else while Eddie got to stick around this shitty town with these people who could barely stand him for no reason (and yeah, okay, maybe he’d poke their buttons). In truth, while he was a little heartbroken over her, it was the fact that she still got her happy ending that hurt the most.
  The girls around Hawkins might have been interested in maybe hooking up with him, but they weren’t interested in being Eddie’s girl. Weren’t interested in falling stupid in love with him, making plans to start a life together. Didn’t want him in their plans.
  Eddie Munson was lonely. And it sucked.
  With a heavy sigh, he cranked on the radio, fingers twisting the volume dial up to the most obnoxious level before shifting the gear to drive.
  “It’ll get better, Munson. Love ain’t no stranger.” He mumbled, sucking on his teeth and pulling out on the road.
  If he had known then where it would lead him, where the night would take him, he would have at least hugged his uncle. It would be the last time he saw him, and it would be the last time Wayne Munson saw his nephew alive.
  Three days later, he’d be identifying and weeping over his boy’s body in the morgue after reporting Eddie missing when he didn’t come home.
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  NOW, 1989
  “Where are you going? It’s almost time for breakfast.” Chrissy called out, head poking out from her bedroom as she watched you race down the hall.
  “Not hungry! I’ll be back soon!” You called over your shoulder, the large sheet of craft paper wrinkling in your hand as you took the stairs two at a time before bounding down the short entryway.
  You’d almost crossed the foyer and then slammed yourself back against the wall as you saw Laura, Chrissy’s mom, fiddling with something at the table. She had the radio on, some garbage self help tape spewing nonsense to her, and that condescending smile on her face.
  Yeah, you’d be avoiding her, lest you wish to be verbally and eloquently belittled. How Chrissy came out of her toxic womb to be such a good person, you’d never understand. 
  When Laura crossed into the kitchen, you sprinted for the door, fumbling a little with the knob in your urgency, but once you got it open, you were out, running across the walkway and the fencing around the house until you were in the woods behind it.
  Only then did you feel safe, the trees a welcome reprieve from your living situation, the magnifying glass this new town had you under, and from the world in general.
  You’d come from a small town before Hawkins, so you were used to small town living. But these people were so judgemental. You hadn’t even grabbed a box from the moving van before your neighbors were casting you snide looks, noses turning up and backs to you as they watered their yard and lounged about.
  Four months later, nothing had changed. If anything, they were more open with their disdain for you, commenting on your demeanor (and you were a cool fucking person), outfits, hair, body. It was annoying. They were annoying. EVERYTHING was annoying. 
  You didn’t even want to be there but you had no real choice. You’d graduated high school a couple of years ago and despite the popular teenage notion that you’d simply pack up your things, go to college and be successful at whatever career you wanted, life did not happen like the movies. The freedom you’d been promised by your own delusions never came. That bitch came with a hefty price tag and you weren’t exactly jumping into a safe of gold coins like Scrooge McDuck with your minimum wage job. 
  You’d gotten into several schools of your choice, but scholarships wouldn’t be nearly enough to cover it, and you’d literally have to sell your entire body to science if you wanted to be able to afford the loans you were being offered, since their interest rates were higher than the standard human beings’ lifespan. 
  So, living with the ‘rents was checked off on your list of things you didn’t want to continue doing past your high school graduation. And hey—you were only 19 years-old! You were still young! Just save up a few years, and maybe one day you’d be able to think about taking a loan. You had time. What could possibly go wrong to throw your plans off?
  Your mother was murdered.
  Yeah, that was a bummer. Could’ve been worse, you supposed. You could have died with her, when your home had been broken into, and sometimes you wish you had. Alas, you were still breathing, albeit extremely traumatized. But only good ol’ mom was six feet in the ground, in an entirely different town, because your father had also moved on a mere few months after her death, with the worst woman to leave flaming footprints on the earth’s crust, and they’d eloped after like six dates before moving you to a town where you knew no one.
  Thinking about it actually made you sick and feel a little delusional. 
  The only real good thing about your entire soap opera of a year was the community college you’d been able to enroll in. You had no real idea what you wanted to do in life, had no real drive for career paths, but you were doing something, and that something kept the she-devil that was your stepmother off your back. Most of the time. Some of the time. She couldn’t say you were a deadbeat yet.
  Chrissy, your sweet to a definitive and insensitive fault step-sister had pushed you into going with her for registration. Convinced you it was the perfect way to make some friends. It was hard to say no to Chrissy, she had a way with people and could make the meekest soul feel like they were capable of anything and everything. She could always see the best in people, and she was outgoing. Your time in Hawkins had been brief, but you’d easily gathered Chrissy was popular, a former cheerleader (and she’d successfully tried out for the community college team) and beloved by all. While part of you felt a little jealous at her confidence, you admired her more. She was never intentionally mean to you, either. She made the occasional comment, but it seemed like Chrissy had more so a filter problem, rather than spitting anything out with sugar coated hostility like her mother. Chrissy was...nice. After everything you've been through, you could use a little nice in your life.
  And sometimes nice was also the woods behind your house, as it led to the Hawkins’ Cemetery. 
  Morbid, sure, but you couldn’t help yourself. After a particularly nasty encounter with Laura the first week of your Hawkins sentence, and feeling lonelier than you’d ever felt before, you’d gone for a walk, tears decorating your face with wet trails as you tried to physically hold yourself together, arms wrapped around yourself. 
  You’d arrived at the cemetery, and because you couldn’t pay your mother a visit, you decided the only decent thing to do was visit other lonely souls.
  You’d stopped to pay your respects to just about every tombstone and plaque, but one in particular caught your attention.
  Tucked away in a corner and separate from the other graves, under a weeping willow, was the most damaged tombstone of them all. Parts of it were broken off, a lot of the information pertaining to the individual underneath it was seemingly grated off. You had no idea who it was, the only remaining legible letters were MUN and you figured it was he simply because you’d taken some paper to the tombstone for etching and ran a black crayon over it. You’d been able to make out the word ‘he’ on the paper and deduced it had once read may he rest in peace. 
  The state of his tombstone surprised you, given how recent the date of death was. While his birth date had also been worn away, the year of death—1986–had been left. It was 1989. No way his grave should’ve looked like that.
  Apparently, even the groundskeeper avoided his part of the cemetery. The grass around his grave was overgrown, and pitiful. So, you’d gone home, grabbed the lawn mower, and pushed it all the way over. You’d ended up disgusting, covered in grass, dirt and sweating like a cheater on a Sunday morning, but his grave was looking better. You’d taken to caring for his grave after that. A bunch of your trinkets and things you'd seen that you immediately thought he’d like surrounded him now and you’d even planted some bluebells. 
  He also made surprisingly good conversation, even though he never talked to you. His presence, while mostly imaginary to you, was comforting. 
  So, during any free time you had, you were sat against his tombstone, chatting about your day, life, whatever you wanted. Felt like he was always listening, no matter the subject and it was really lovely to be heard.
  When you arrived at the cemetery, it was practically vacant, with just the red headed girl you normally saw. You didn’t see her all the time, she was just one of the faces you saw the most, and that was only a handful of occasions. For the most part, Hawkins didn’t seem keen on remembering the dead. 
  “Hope you haven’t been lonely without me,” You greeted as you approached his tombstone, ducking under a few low hanging willow branches that still brushed over you anyways. You’d have to ‘borrow’ Laura’s shears soon, the willow tree was hauntingly beautiful around his grave, but you wanted its branches and leaves to frame his grave, not conceal it, “I missed you.”
  It was a little odd, but you did. 
  When you weren’t at his grave, you were thinking about him, trying to put a face to MUN, wondering what his life had been like. Did he have any loved ones? What had his interests been? How had he died? Had he felt as lonely as you did?
  “I know, I know.” You settled onto the grass in front of his tombstone, securing the craft paper to his tombstone with some masking tape, “I was just here last night.” You imagined he would say.
  “I just can’t stay away from you. You have a very intriguing aura: I can’t see it because you’re dead, and that makes me want to know you more.” You pulled a black crayon from your pocket and went about scribbling on the paper, over where you knew MUN would be etched in stone, “I’ve said it a million times, and you’ve probably turned over in your coffin repeatedly because of it, but you’re the only one who understands me. And you’re the only one here that I care about—probably in the whole world actually, except maybe Chrissy but I know her friends think I’m weird, and I don’t want to drag her down with me.”
  Once the letters appeared on the paper, you sprawled out STER and you dropped the crayon to produce a pretty hot pink marker from your pocket instead, signing your name with a little heart to go with it just above the last name you’d crafted for him.
  The odds of this dude being a Munster were slim to none, but you thought it was fitting for someone who lived in a cemetery.
  You sat back on your haunches to admire it, it was a cute piece. Would look nice on your wall and whenever you missed him and found yourself longing to be near his grave, all you’d have to do is turn on your side and you'd be able to see part of him. 
  You ripped the paper off his tombstone, and weighed it down on the grass with a rock. With that out of the way, you gave him your full attention, shuffling until your head and shoulder were leaning against the stone, “Would you wanna be dragged down with me? Be seen with me? I’m somewhat of a pariah around here. Did you have better luck when you were still kicking?”
  You figured with how fucked up his tombstone had been, probably not. You imagined he’d confirm it, too. Just out right say, ‘Nah, these assholes hated me.’
  “Yeah, looks like we’re two peas in a pod.” Then you glanced down, fingers, twirling the blades of grass over his grave, “Or, you know. Casket.”
  You let silence fall over you, broken only by the chirping of birds in surrounding trees.
  “Goddamit, why do you have to be dead?” Your eyelids fluttered close, and instead of the cold stone, you imagined your head pressed against a warm chest, rising and falling with breaths, and a heartbeat thumping strong below your ear, pushing blood throughout his body. Imagined he was alive, arms slipping around you, firm and strong to hold you together so you didn't have to anymore.
  But he wasn’t, and you were reminded when the groundskeeper shouted, “HEY!”
  You shot up, glancing around until you saw him by the entrance with a leaf blower, “YOU AWAKE?”
  What kind of a dumbass question was that? Sure, it had looked like you were asleep but you were clearly alert now.
  “YEAH!” You shrieked back to be heard, and he went back to not caring. 
  “He can see me leaning against your tombstone, but he can’t see overgrown grass, weeds, rocks, or your grave in general when I’m not here. Men, always so selective, amirite?”
  You glanced at the stone, half expecting it to respond. “Eh, what do you know, you’re just a man, too.” You reached your arm back, knuckles trailing over MUN.
  “Despite you mouthing off to me most of the time, I brought you something.” You reached into your other pocket and pulled out a necklace, lined with black pearls and a cross pendant. It had been your mother’s. While she had a pension for religion, it wasn’t something you thought about. Dying, sure, but whatever afterlife? Not so much. Felt wrong, sometimes, to carry it around with you—felt like you were disrespecting her a little bit to not believe what she did, even though she had no qualms with it when she was alive. So, you figured why not trust it with the other important person in your life?
  “Pretty, huh? It was my mom’s. She’s dead, like you. You wouldn’t happen to have seen her around, would you?” You joked, fingers stroking over the pearls. There was no risk in leaving them with your dead friend, people avoided him and you had a feeling even grave robbers wouldn’t dare step near the willow, so they’d probably be with him for the rest of eternity, “I want you to have them, take care of them for me.”
  You placed the necklace over the peak of his tombstone, smiling when they didn’t fall from their place, “Mm, you look good in them. Better than I do, I’m not big on pearls. More of a silver jewelry kind of girl. I could do gold and diamonds, though, only for a wedding ring.”
  You held your arm out, admiring your ring hand void of any actual rings, “Nothing too gaudy, of course. That’s what my earrings are for.” 
  Your eyes trailed from your outstretched fingers, to your wrist, and the watch decorating it. The time made you heave a heavy sigh, “I gotta go. Chrissy’s dragging me to a party tonight, so I’ve got to mentally prepare for that. You’ll think of me while I’m away, won’t you?”
  Trailing a finger down the stone, you leaned forward to press your lips to it in a sweet kiss. 
  “I’ll be back soon, and this time I won’t forget my book of sonnets. I know how much you love the cynical poems I force on you.”
  And though you announced your departure, you found it hard to leave him, like you always did. It took all you had to gather your crayon, marker, and your new poster (and you kept dropping all three to have an excuse to linger) and leave the cemetery behind, glancing back impulsively every couple of steps until it was no longer in view, and the moment it wasn’t you wanted to drop everything and run back to him.
  You had to remind yourself he was a stranger, who didn’t care for you, rotting in the ground. And it sucked. 
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  “I don’t wanna go.” You announced, staring into the bathroom mirror you shared with Chrissy. You’d just finished your makeup, eyes heavily lined, and lashes coated an electric blue that made your eyes pop. You were always a little heavy handed with your makeup, you figured the whole point of it was to use it as you wanted. Your hair had been manipulated to hell and back, but regardless of what you did, you were unsatisfied with the girl staring back at you, “I’ll just stay home.”
  “Not on my watch!” Chrissy declared, reaching in front of you for her pink lipstick. The bathroom counter was littered with your combined beauty products, “This is the first major rager of the year, the perfect social gathering. You need to meet people, sissy.” 
  You scowled at the idea, “I have met people.”
  Chrissy tubed the lipstick bullet, rubbing her lips together as she gave you a concerned side-eye, “People who like you, sissy.”
  Ouch, there’s that brutal honesty.
  “It’s not good for you to be on your own all the time,” She set the lipstick down so she could place a dainty hand on your shoulder, big blue eyes focused on you, “I worry about you. Daddy and mom worry about you. Your doctor worries about you. You need to get out more.” Chrissy stressed, pink lips pulling into a reassuring smile before she went back to focusing on the mirror and her makeup.
  You let out a heavy sigh, mulling her words over. Definitely could have been phrased better, but Chrissy was right. You were currently the town recluse, and occupying your room and the town cemetery wouldn’t change that. 
  “That blush isn’t the right shade for you, sissy.” Chrissy broke you from your thoughts and your eyes drifted back over to your reflection, the girl looking so unsure and right back at you, “You really have to accentuate your features, compliment them, because you’re already beautiful.” 
  Didn’t feel like it.
  Your expression must have given your inner thoughts away because Chrissy turned to you again, practically bouncing, “Wait a minute, you could use my tanning bed!”
  You deadpanned at the mention of the ridiculous full on salon tanning bed that Chrissy owned. There was a dedicated mini garage in the backyard for it, next to the pool, and complete with neon lights, her beauty pageant trophies and sashes as well as her cheer trophies. The PG&E bill was always through the roof for the Tan Shack alone, and you still had no idea how Laura could afford it.
  “No, Chrissy I-I don’t think that would work on me. At all.”
  Chrissy waved off your concerns, “It’s not about the tan, or even if you can tan. It’s the experience. When I lay in that tanning bed, with those little goggles on my eyes and I can hear the buzzing, I feel myself blooming. Regardless of whether or not my skin actually tans,” It didn’t. Chrissy burned but she somehow still looked good, “I feel amazing about myself.”
  “Are you sure that’s not cancer?”
  “You’re so funny!” Chrissy laughed even though you were being serious, “Sissy, every girl deserves to feel beautiful. If I can provide you with an experience that might raise those confidence levels that are dragging across a nail-covered floor right now, why wouldn’t I?”
  Your eyebrows furrowed, trying to decipher if that was a compliment or not, but you didn’t have long to mull it over before Chrissy was framing your face with her hands. 
  “And I can. Please, let me do this.”
  You groaned, long and drawn out and awkward, before squeezing your eyes shut and slowly nodding your head. She squealed, clapped her hands together and dragged you out of the bathroom.
  After explaining how it all worked, Chrissy bid you a cheerful goodbye and left you to your own devices so she could finish getting ready for the night ahead of you both.
  You’d selected your tan level, positive you wouldn’t see any real results but maybe the ‘experience’ would benefit you and shed your fuzzy slippers and robe, leaving you in some boy shorts and a tank top as you tried to settle yourself in the tanning bed. The dip was awkward, and you couldn’t get a good grasp on the top of the tanning bed since it was meant to only open and close rather than stay in position so grasping onto it for balance as you lowered yourself in led to you conking yourself on the head with a noticeable bonk.
  You hissed in pain, rubbing the sore area as you clambered the rest to the way in. Once you’d stretched your legs out, lowered the top, maneuvered the goggles over your face and waited for the magic to happen as you were surrounded by neon blue lights.
  You heard the buzzing as the tanning bed started up. The magic happened alright. The entire tanning bed shocked you, and you shrieked as you felt the intense electric current ripple throughout your body, sparking every single pore in the worst way possible.
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“I’m so sorry you got electrocuted, sissy.”
  Chrissy broke the silence as you sulked in the passenger seat, your hair a little bigger than normal and not a result of styling. After getting all five senses shocked out of you, you’d come out with a hairdo that would not usually be up to par with you, and some serious case of static electricity. You’d tried to gently press your hair down and when you saw a literal spark in it, you decided to just leave it alone.
  Your step-sister had been apologizing since.
  “It’s alright. I survived.” And you wanted to forget about it. 
  You could see Chrissy glancing nervously at you from the corner of your eye as she drove you to the party location.
  “So…how are you liking Hawkins Community, so far?” She asked, thankfully changing the subject. 
  “It’s fine. The campus looks relatively the same as the community college I toured in my old town. Classes are decent.” Pitiful. The classes were so boring and straight out of the book, but it cost you a fraction of a fraction of what you’d have to pay to attend a university. 
  Chrissy lips turned up in a mischievous smile and you internally groaned, fully expecting her next question.
  “See any cute boys?” And then, as an afterthought, “Or…girls?” Then she took her eyes off the road again, squinting at you as if she was trying to assess something, “Or…..anyone?” 
  You betrayed yourself, eyes darting to the window before they were back on her and she perked up in the driver’s seat. 
  “Okay, spill.”
  Your heart started thumping wildly in your chest as one particular guy came to mind, but you hadn’t thought about him too much. Hadn’t allowed yourself to entertain the idea of a romance with him. That’s how people got their hopes up and letdown.
  “Sissy! Sissy, come on. You have to tell me. I’m your only friend!” 
  This time, you could tell she was joking, even though she did have merit. You bit your lip as she ribbed you a bit more, the corners of your lips tugging up into a smile. 
  “Okay, okay!” Your hands flew to cover your face, embarrassed, shy and a little giddy all at once to actually be admitting you had a crush. 
  “Steve Harrington.”
  “STEVE HARRINGTON?” She repeated, incredulous and you shushed her even though it was only you two in the car.
  “Sissy, that’s so unexpected! I haven’t really seen him since high school but I didn’t think he’d be your type.” Chrissy admitted with a shrug of her shoulders.
  “He works in the library.” You sighed out, recalling your brief interactions with him when checking out a couple of books. He’d been kind, made a couple of humorous comments about the titles, and always tried to meet your avoidant gaze, which meant he was being nice to you. Coaxing you out of your shell. You actually didn't have much trouble interacting with people, you were more abrasive than you ever were shy, Steve was just a little too easy on the eyes. Made you forget how to talk, and on occasion, walk. It was embarrassing, “Always makes those cute displays with recommendations.”
  “Good for him,” She commented, sounding impressed. “I didn’t really know he was intellectual. Wasn’t, the last I heard. Had a big reputation in high school, seemed kind of mean and everyone called him King Steve.”
  You frowned, feeling the need to protect him, “Didn’t they call you the Queen of Hawkins High?”
  “Yeah, but only to make me seem pretentious.” 
  You raised your eyebrows, glancing away. Chrissy was kind, but sometimes, she could be pretentious.
  “And anyways, I’m not a student at Hawkins High anymore, so they can’t call me that. Maybe Steve really did change. Come to think of it, I haven’t heard much about him since he struck out with a series of girls. Maybe he took a good look at himself and decided a change was needed.” You could feel her eyes on you again. 
  “Does he flirt with you?”
  “No.”
  “See him flirt with any girls?”
  “Nope.”
  “Does he still make his hair all big and poofy?”
  “Looks more voluminous than poofy.”
  Chrissy hummed, “An improvement. Is he all beret wearing and drinking coffee now?”
  You tried to recall ever seeing him in a hat, let alone a beret, “No, I don’t think so. If anything, he’s introspective.”
  “He’s on the spectrum?”
  Your smile waned when you realized she was asking a legitimate question, “Oh. No. That’s—that’s not what that means. I just meant he’s thinking about what he does; how he acts, how he behaves.”
  It got quiet for a few moments.
  ”Well,” Chrissy broke the silence once more, “He might be there tonight. I’m not sure if they’re still friends, but Tommy Hagan is hosting tonight, and once upon a time, they were inseparable.”
  You made a sound of acknowledgment, upper lip twitching in disgust. You knew Tommy, saw him around campus. He was a big jerk, you’d witnessed him throw some guy’s backpack in the trash and pour his drink on it. You wish you’d known it was his party you were going to in advance. Tommy was a nasty piece of work, so his friend group was the same. Out of all of them, though, Carol got on your nerves the most. 
  She didn’t pay you a whole lot of attention, but when you were walking in with Chrissy—and this is Chrissy, so she acknowledged everyone—and she said hi, Carol would just look you up and down before pursing her big mouth like she’d sucked on something sour. One day, you’d like to give her your fist to suck on.
  ”Patrick McKinney is bringing three kegs and I heard Reefer Rick is bringing his whole inventory.”
  “Reefer Rick?”
  “Yeah, he’s the local drug dealer now. I mean, he’s always been but he used to have somebody sell for him while he supplied, but he died.”
  Your eyes widened while your pupils dilated, mind conjuring up some image of a poor dude being murdered for drugs and then the supplier just taking over, not fearful at all of meeting the same fate, “He died?”
  Chrissy nodded her head, looking thoughtful, “Yeah, Eddie Munson.”
  Munson.
  You sat up in your seat, fully alert and invested in the conversation now, “Eddie Munson? Is he buried under the willow tree in the cemetery?”
  You stared at Chrissy, willing her to think faster as she squinted and pursed her lips, “I think Tina mentioned something about someone peeing on a tree over there, so I think so.”
  Your mouth dropped open, expression utterly horrified that someone could do that, “That’s beastly, what the fuck?”
  “I know,” Chrissy sighed with a shake of her head. “I didn't know him all that much, bought some weed off of him a couple of times and he seemed a little scary—appearance and mannerism wise—but he seemed nice when you had to interact with him. He didn’t deserve that.”
  “How did he die?” You asked, voice small and heart shrinking. You didn’t like where this was going. Didn’t like it one bit.
  “Well, the official determination, if I remember right, was like a drug deal gone bad or something, but no one really believes it. He was known to have weed on him, kept the harder stuff somewhere else. Everyone knows he was murdered. They did a number on him, it was all everyone could talk about because Sydney Porter couldn’t even get her dad—he worked at the station—to show her pictures. He told her they messed Eddie up bad. People here really didn’t like him. No one knows who did it though.”
  You sunk back into your seat, mind troubled and stomach turning. This whole time, you'd been tending to and caring for the grave of a murdered guy, taken from this world simply because people didn’t like him. He must have been so lonely. So scared. And they killed him.
  Chrissy was wrong. People in this town knew who killed him, because one of them, or some of them, had to have been his murderers.
  Your fingers curled into tight fists, painted nails digging into the flesh of your palms. Chrissy noticed the change in your demeanor.
  “Oh, sissy. You’re such an empath. Don’t be so sad, I know it’s a horrible story, but he’s resting now. In peace.”
  “No, he’s not. They fucked up his tombstone. He can’t even be dead in peace.” You huffed, furious on his behalf.
  “How do you know?” Chrissy asked, raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow. 
  “I go there a lot, it’s nice. Quiet. A little creepy, but that adds to its charm, makes it relatively peaceful. I’ve been visiting all the graves, but I was drawn to him the most. Etched his tombstone. He’s my favorite.”
  Despite the horrors you’d learned, the thought of Mun—Eddie, still brought a wistful smile to your lips. Maybe your presence was enough to settle him, bring him a little bit of peace this town and the people in it refused to give him.
  “H-He’s your favorite…?”
  “Yeah. I feel this….connection with him. From the very first time I visited. Now, I leave him gifts, flowers, pretty stones, poems I wrote, a book of sonnets I stole from the library.”
  “You….should talk to your doctor about this, Sissy. That’s really weird. That’s really weird, sissy.”
  You fought to not roll your eyes. As much as you cared about Chrissy, and knew she cared about you, she didn’t understand you. 
  “Well, since people ruined his grave, I thought it might be nice to clean it up and make sure he’s not forgotten.” You snapped, “It’s not like I call him my boyfriend or anything.”
  Chrissy eyed you skeptically, “Well, then that’s nice of you, I guess. Just don’t go around telling everybody about that, or you’ll be known as the Ghost Whisperer.”
  “He hasn’t talked back to me yet.”
  Chrissy laughed, and freed one hand off the wheel to lightly slap your arm, “See, now that’s funny. If you do tell anyone, end it with that joke. You’ll be a riot.”
  You smirked, staring out the front windshield. You’d let her think it was a joke. For now.
  You made a sound of displeasure as Chrissy pulled into a clear space on the grass and parked. She jumped out to dance over to her friends, some wine coolers cradled in a plastic bag she clutched.
  You allowed yourself a full minute to stew in your misery before getting out of the car and following after her. As you neared her group, you quickly realized that was a bad idea. 
  “Oh my GOD! Vickie, you fixed your teeth! They look so good. I wasn’t gonna say anything because I thought you were happy with the overcrowding, but now that you fixed it, I can’t look away!”
  Yeesh. You beelined away from them and wandered around the crowded front lawn, dodging rowdy friend groups and couples until you spotted a cooler.
  Maybe a drink would calm you down.
  You squatted down and popped the lid, digging around the ice but all you spotted were Pepsi and Squirt cans.
  “The liquid fun is inside.” A guy’s voice came from behind you and you rolled your eyes. You were so not in the mood to be hit on right now. 
  “What?” You asked, tone bored, but you didn’t want to make him seem helpful so you grabbed a Squirt.
  “Alcohol. He keeps it inside.”
  You slammed the cooler shut and popped the tab of the can, rising to your feet, “Yeah, I figured that mu—shhhh.”
  Oh, shit. 
  Steve Harrington was standing before you, eyes alight with mirth as he smirked down at you.
  You swallowed hard, hoping to god your tongue hadn’t gone down with the movement. See? Here you went getting all stupid around him.
  ”Funny seeing you here.”
  You laughed nervously, “Yeah. I—uh, mhm.” You forced yourself to take a drink of your soda to keep from making an even bigger fool of yourself.
  “Sorry if it’s weird of me to just walk up to you. I was chilling on the side of the house and thought I saw you, but I’m a little nearsighted and I didn’t bring my glasses.”
  You pulled the can away from your mouth as your brain registered the lack of metal frames on the bridge of his nose. He looked handsome with and without them, that wasn’t fair. It was still throwing you off. 
  “It’s—It’s okay. Uhm, no harm done.” You shrugged your shoulders, hoping it looked cool and not as stiff as you felt. You even added in a smile with some teeth for a little razzle dazzle.
  “I actually came over here to tell you your books are significantly overdue.” Steve deadpanned, tongue playing with his canine tooth as he scrutinized you and you shrunk, smile falling from your face. You had got to get better at following up on your due dates.
  “Oh.”
  He scoffed, face breaking out into a grin as his shoulders shook with his chuckles “I’m kidding.”
  OH, THANK FUCK. 
  “Oh,” And then, because every god probably hates you, you started snorting with laughter. You cut that shit quick, clearing your throat as you took another sip of your beverage.
  “So,” Steve took a step closer to you, “Are you enjoying─”
  “Hey!” Carol stepped right up to Steve, practically leaning all over him as her ruby red lips spread into a seductive smile, eyes lidded and no doubt a few drinks in with a drink for Steve in her hand. For the billionth time that night, you rolled your eyes, trying not to gag at how desperate she was. You knew Tommy had recently dumped her, the entire town knew and now she was clearly trying to get into Steve’s pants, “I found the keg.”
  She could eat shit, his pants were yours.
  “Oh, Thank you.” Came Steve’s bleak reply and part of you thought he might have actually wanted to talk to just you. Now, you were really annoyed she’d interrupted.
  “Hey, Carol.”
  Carol looked surprised that you’d even dare speak to her, raising her eyebrows, “Hey. Hi— sorry, how do we know each other?”
  “You’re my lab partner.” You were unimpressed, you expected her to be a better mean girl. 
  “Yay me.” The smile she directed at you was anything but friendly, reminding you of the one Laura would make after you did something in public she didn’t like, but she couldn’t yell at you until you were home. Carol swirled the liquid in her cup around, head tilting as she offered it to you, “You wanna sip, partner?”
  “Carol.” Steve warned and she tutted, flicking her wrist.
  “You’re right, I don’t know why I assumed she partied.”
  “I’ll take a beer,” You could handle alcohol, had cleared your mother’s wine cabinet after she was murdered, so this would be no big deal.
  Carol looked annoyed but handed you the cup, and to make sure you wouldn’t gag and vomit, you threw it back, throat opening as you swallowed the liquid as fast as you could to refuse it as much time on your taste buds as possible.
  When you lowered the cup, you realized you’d made a mistake and glanced into it at the small amount left behind, watching as the ground in your peripheral view began to shift.
  Steve seemed to realize something was wrong, quickly taking your cup and ingesting what was left. His suspicions were confirmed and he spat it out on the grass before scowling at Carol, “PCP? Really, Carol? What the fuck is wrong with you? Why the hell would you give that to her!?”
  “Oopsie.”
  But it was too late for you. You dropped the soda can in your other hand and lifted your hands to your face, watching the lines around your palms and fingers begin to move, swirling around and you backed away from them, watching as everything around you began to come undone.
  “Hey!” You heard a voice next to you and someone started rubbing your back, you hadn’t even realized you were crouching. You craned your head up to see Chrissy and you frowned. Her voice was so different, distorted. She sounded more like your dad than Chrissy. 
  Her face was both far away and right in front of you, you reached a hand out to test the theory, see if it really was close. Chrissy caught your wrist, frowning at the state you were falling into.
  Chrissy started asking you questions, about what you’d taken, what you drank but her voice was too loud for you, and the purple behind her head was distracting. Still, you nodded your head.
  At your confirmation, Chrissy’s frown intensified and she helped you to the ground before darting over to chew Steve and Carol out.
  You couldn’t stay on the grass for long, the blades of it stabbing you and sending pain shooting up your palms and into your bones so you crawled some distance away before you managed to push yourself up and stumble towards the house. It was hard.
  Everything was moving. You heard a loud sound and glanced around wildly until you were staring up at the sky, mouth dropping open to see green clouds and lightning. 
  You had to get away, the need to escape, be safe was urgent but it felt like the closer you got to the front door, the farther away it went. Your breathing was heavy and panicked as you kept stumbling forward, arm outstretched and finally you reached it.
  You yanked it open and nearly fell inside, tripping over your feet until you hit the back of the couch and used it to sink to the floor.
  You heard your name being called and lifted your head, eyes crazed as you tried to find the source. Fred Benson approached you, the skinny boy squatting to be eye level with you.
  “You okay?” He asked and you reached forward, grasping his face in your hand and squeezing to make sure he was a real person.
  “You.” Was all you said, booping his nose but still suspicious of him. Was he real?
  “Uh, yeah. It’s me. It’s Fred, we sit next to each other in ASL class.”
  He looked like Fred. You still didn’t believe he was human, squinting as your hands grasped at the back of the couch.
  “You don’t look so good,” Fred pushed the frame of his glasses up his nose, brows furrowed in concern, “Let's find somewhere for you to sit down for a minute. Or maybe a while. Man, what did you drink?”
  He stood up, offering you a hand and you took it but didn’t pull yourself up. Fred heaved with all his might and managed to get you on your feet but he realized just walking you wouldn’t be enough, and so did you because you draped yourself over him, one arm over his scrawny shoulders.
  Fred cursed under his breath but held your weight, leading you out of the populated living room and you watched a couple furiously make out on the couch cushions as you passed.
  “I hate parties. I don’t know why I came—well, actually I do. I never got invited to these in high school, so I guess I’m living out my fantasy now. In all honesty, I’d much rather be watching Weird Science. So far tonight, I’ve seen three cheerleaders throw up and a baby being conceived.”
  “Uh huh,” Was all you could get out, watching people swirl past you like shooting stars.
  “Would you count that as escaping the teen pregnancy statistic? I know they’re out of high school, but we’re all still pretty young.” He commented as he led you up the stairs. You tripped several times and almost sent him flying down them but the two of you managed to make it. 
  Fred was heaving by the time you'd shouldered him into the hallway wall, his face and hands clammy.
  ”Good god, how did I pass P.E.?” The two of you paused there until he regained his breath while you plastered yourself against the wall, cheek pressed to it and hands stroking over the wallpaper. Eventually, Fred peeled you off of it and kept moving until he could find a place to put you.
  “You like movies right? Got any favorite directors? Or favorite films?”
  “Wall.”
  “Huh? Oh, you’re just admiring the wallpaper.”
  “Great Wall of China.”
  Fred positioned you against the wall, looking a little annoyed. You didn’t care, could only focus on the framed photo of the Great Wall of China directly across from you.
  “Oh.” Was all he said when he spotted it. “Stay right here.”
  Then he disappeared and you watched as the painting came to life, and the stones of the wall began moving, rippling. You didn’t even know stones could move like that but now it made so much more sense. 
  Fred appeared again, tugging you along into an empty room. You spotted a trash can and nearly threw Fred into the bedroom wall as you dove for it, retching everything out of your stomach. You could hear Fred gagging, but he was decent enough to make sure your hair stayed out of your way. When you were done, he helped sit you up on the bed, and nearly collapsed next to you.
  ”We did it,” he cheered with no real gusto. And you sat there, still feeling the earth orbiting. It was the most odd sensation, you could feel a spot on your brain pulsing, like a migraine but it felt so euphoric to close your eyes.
  “Here,” They snapped right back open and you glanced to your side to see Fred offering you a handkerchief. Of course Fred Benson carried around a handkerchief. How amusing. 
  “Thank you,” You gave the three versions of him you could see right then a smile and used the handkerchief to wipe your mouth, eyelids fluttering close just as the sound of thunder filled the room, and a flashing of lightning accompanied it.
  “Huh, a rainless thunderstorm, looks like the angels are bowling.” You heard him muse next to you.
  And it brought another smile to your face, “My mom used to say that.”
  At the mention of her, your brain conjured up all the happy feelings and memories of her, huddled on your couch, in your old home watching black and white horror films. They didn’t scare her, so she could tolerate them. You missed her. She made you feel so light, so seen, so—no.
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  Something was wrong. Something felt very, very wrong.
  Your smile faded and you felt your belly sink as you opened your eyes.
  “Does that feel good?”
  You didn’t want to, but you looked down to see Fred’s hand on your breast. Your breathing picked up and Fred let go of you to grab your wrist and force you to touch his crotch, “Well don’t just sit there, help me out. Finish what you started.” 
  Anger filled you and you yanked your hand away, “No.”
  Fred opened his mouth as you got up, rushing away from him and stumbling back out the way you remembered while he yelled at you.
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  You had to get out, had to get away. Had to be safe, feel safe. You banged against walls as you went, desperate to get out of the house, away from Fred, from everyone, and to safety. That was your only concern as the drug really hit you.
  All you could remember was seeing colors, hearing and feeling the wind against your sweaty skin, leaves blowing with it and gusting around you.
  You had no idea how you escaped the mad house, how long you’d even been walking or how you actually got there, but you found yourself in front of the cemetery, a flash of lightning illuminating the gate.
  To anyone else, a cemetery would have been the worst place to find themselves on a night like this, but you’d already been to hell so you trudged forward, feet taking you to him. Even in your drugged state, you were able to find your way to Eddie. Always would be.
  Your knees dug into the grass as you collapsed in front of his tombstone, fingers reaching forward to trace over MUN and 1986 before your body curled around the large stone, hugging yourself to it. Electric blue tears slipped down your cheeks, staining them with your mascara.
  “I wish I was with you.” You whispered, hating everything, hating this town, hating the people, hating Fred Benson, hating Carol, hating Laura Cunningham, hating how your mom wasn’t alive, hating how the one person you’d unknowingly sought for comfort was someone you’d never met before who was six feet under the ground. And you hated how you weren’t down there.
  You laid there, hugging his tombstone for hours under the thunder and lightning as the PCP slowly left your system.
  When you were able to stand up on your own, you gave the tombstone another kiss, rested your forehead against it and quietly thanked him for helping you find your way home before you left, following the path you’d made during all of your visits.
  The house was quiet when you got in, and Chrissy’s car hadn’t been parked in the driveway when you’d walked up so you figured she was still at the party. Sluggishly, you made your way up the stairs, falling into your shared bathroom. Your hand searched the wall, struggling to find the switch. Once your fingertips made contact with it, you flipped it and squinted as the room was flooded with the warm light. It was still too much for your eyes but you kept it on and walked towards the mirror
  The girl looking back at you was not the same one you’d last seen in it. This girl had blue smudged all around her eyes, faint trails of it over her cheeks and a rats nest for hair. Her eyes burned, not from the light, but from a fury within. 
  She was stuck in a life she didn’t want to live and couldn’t do anything about. As a large strike of lightning flashed from the window positioned at the back of the bathroom, towards the back of the house, you decided to put her out of her misery, picking up a blow dryer and smashing it against your reflection with a yell.
  You stood there, chest heaving as you stared at the broken reflection. Then you tossed the blow dryer onto the counter, and went to bed.
  Your dreams were much more pleasant than your reality, eyelids fluttering open to the ceiling of your old bedroom. A glance to your side confirmed your mother’s photo was at your bedside, next to your alarm clock on your old bedside table.
  “Well?” Her photo asked, shooting you that gorgeous smile of hers, “What are you waiting for? Go get him.”
  Your confusion was momentary, your mother raised her chin in a direction and you knew what would happen, you were giddy for it as you looked down to see yourself wrapped in the most beautiful wedding gown you’d ever seen.
  You rose from the bed into a sitting position, picking up the bouquet on the pillow next to you. Your dresser mirror was directly across from your bed and you took a moment to admire the beautiful girl staring back at you. Where you last remember seeing trails of tears were diamonds, glittering against your skin. Her eyes sparkled with a joy you’d never known. You bid her one last smile as you turned your head to the figure sitting on the edge of your bed, dark curls cascading down his neck, past broad shoulders with his back to you. 
  His right arm was out, palm up.
  He was waiting for you.
  You shifted until you were on the edge of your bed next to him, staring straight forward just as he was.
  Without looking, you knew exactly where his hand was, and you placed your left one over it, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. Slowly, the two of you leaned towards each other, until your head was on his shoulder and his cheek was pressed against the top of your head, his fingers curling around your hand to ground you. You sighed, all the tension and weight of the world leaving you.
  “Sissy. . .”
  “Sissy…”
  “SISSY!”
  You groaned as Chrissy shook you awake, eyes prying through all the mascara that had crusted over your eyes. It took a couple of blinks until you regained your clear vision, gaze locking on Chrissy leaning over you. Her face was clean of any makeup, skin glowing and hair wrapped up in rollers.
  She’d gotten home later than you and had still been able to look perfect. 
  What the hell?
  “You better get up, sissy. My mom’s losing it over the bathroom mirror.”
  You were confused for a second until you remembered smashing it with a blow dryer last night—or this morning. Well, it definitely would have broken at the sight of you now, anyways. 
  You frowned but made no move to get up so Chrissy tugged your blanket off of you, giggling when the both of you realized you had your hand in your underwear. Hastily, you yanked it out, and threw the blankets back over yourself.
  “It’s okay, Sissy. Everyone does it. It’s natural.”
  “Oh my god…”
  “So, what happened last night to bring this on?” She wiggled her eyebrows and you stared at her for a second. Part of you wanted to yell at her, berate her for letting you stumble around while high on a drug you’d never taken before, the other half knew in Chrissy’s World, it was all rainbows and sunshine—at least, it had been since she’d forced her mother to respect her boundaries. Chrissy didn’t expect the worst in anyone, didn't expect anyone to take advantage of you and certainly didn't expect you to wind up walking to the cemetery and then home on a bad trip. No, in Chrissy’s World, you’d probably spent the night flirting with someone, probably Steve, maybe fooled around in his car before he drove you home.
  You didn’t see it necessary to shatter her world so you groaned instead, the full force of your migraine hitting you now that you were out of sleep’s clutches, and covered your hands with your face.
  “Ooh, your knees…”
  You glanced down to see what she was staring at and sure enough, your knees were scratched up from kneeling at Eddie’s grave, but in Chrissy’s World…
  “I fell.” Was the only excuse you could come up with and Chrissy smirked.
  “Me, too.” Her eyelid dropped in a wink just as Laura yelled upstairs for you, so, begrudgingly, you wrapped yourself in your robe and headed downstairs to receive your punishment.
  Just as you suspected, Laura had attacked you with allegations—that were true for once, you had smashed the bathroom mirror—and your dad looked like he could care less.
  “You know,” She stated, fixing you with those unnaturally blue eyes of hers, “Your dad wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt. See the good in you, but I knew. I’m an Intuitive Person, you know. An IP. They’ve got seminars for people like me.”
  Your mind flashed to How to Handle a Narcissist. 
  “Laura…” Your dad warned and Laura inhaled sharply, displeased that your dad was sticking up for you. For once. 
  “Did you know there was a tornado last night? It hailed. Wind blew the fence over. The yard is covered in debris, and now I have to focus on repairing the bathroom, too. I don’t think that’s fair.” She huffed and Chrissy spoke up from her place on the couch.
  “It was a tornado watch, mom. Not a real tornado.”
  “Actually, Chris, the weather was downright crazy last night. I mean, it was really something, I saw green lightning. Big balls of it in the sky.”
  You and Chrissy shared secret smiles at hearing your dad talk about big balls.
  “Love muffin, could you swap out being a weatherman for being a father, right now?” Laura gritted out through her chemically whitened teeth.
  “It’s a Meteorologist,” You mumbled and her head snapped over to glare at you before she was speaking to your father again.
  “Honey, your daughter is a vandal. She’s got a taste for vandalism, and she is deliberately vandalizing and destroying property. First, it was my collection of Precious Moments figurines─”
  “That was an accident, you didn’t wrap them in bubble wrap and I dropped the box when I tripped over the front steps.”
  “Mother,” Chrissy chided, hands crossing over her robe. “Be. Nice.”
  “I am being nice,” Laura hissed, glare never leaving you, “But I refuse to coddle her. She’s headed straight to the nut house with this behavior.”
  You frowned, wiping away some of the dried mascara under your eye, “Can you say that if you’re a Psych Nurse?”
  Laura had the decency to look embarrassed before whacking your father’s arm. He sighed, putting his newspaper down, “Sweetheart─”
  You clocked the twitch in Laura’s eyelid at the affectionate name your father used to refer to you.
  “─You’re gonna clean your bathroom, alright? Sweep up all that glass.”
  ”And?” Laura pushed, still staring at you.
  “And…..um. Pay for the mirror, I guess.” Laura turned her nose up, hurmphing. 
  “That’s fine, can I get ready for work now?”
  Your dad nodded and Laura looked like she wanted to protest but you turned your back to her and made your way upstairs, hesitating at the top when your fathered turned the volume of the TV back on and you heard the news reporter reporting from the cemetery, talking about a grave, under a tree, that had been struck by lightning. 
  You wondered if it had been Eddie’s. There’s no way you’d be able to check today, you’d get home from work too late, so you’d have to check tomorrow.
  You tried to stay busy during your shift at the local tailor’s. You didn’t really have a passion for it, but you were relatively good with a needle and thread. With the magnifier headlamp, you were practically unstoppable, altering coats, dresses, blouses, shirts, all with minimal finger injuries—though luminol on some of these clothing items would no doubt reveal traces of your blood.
  But hey—you now knew what it meant to work so hard you put your blood into something and you always had band-aids on you, in case anyone needed one.
  You were so invested in your work, you hadn’t heard the bell above the door chime when it was pushed open, and didn’t notice Steve leaning against the counter, watching you work until he cleared his throat.
  You jumped, head swinging around to see your crush smiling at you and you raised the magnifying glass portion of the head lamp off your face, feeling embarrassed that he’d seen you with the headgear on in the first place.
  “Hey! I didn’t know you worked here.”
  You let out some nervous laughter, mind racing for ways to make this seem cool but you came up short. “Yeah, I—employed.”
  “I can see that,” He chuckled, amused by your lack of verbal sparring.
  You didn’t know what to say after that so you stared, fingers twisting and pulling the thread you’d been working with, desperate for him to say something or get out.
  “Oh! Uh, I heard you guys also get rid of stains? I’ve got this one on my pan─”
  “THAT WE DO!” 
  You sighed, eyes slipping shut as your moron of a boss came bursting out of the office.
  “What can we do for you, Harrington?” Murray asked, leaning against the counter, causing Steve to lean back, smile now less than thrilled.
  “Murray…I forgot you worked here.” Steve said it in a voice that made you think he would have avoided the shop had he known who it was that was currently in charge of running it.
  “Yup, got me this sweet little gig. And no radios.” He gestured around to the shop, void of any technology save for the cash register—and he made sure it was never him operating it, “Would like to see the government try to control me now.”
  “Right, I just came here to drop off my pants, spilled something on—well, it doesn’t really matter, I just spilled something on them.” Steve placed the folded pair of pants on the counter and Murray immediately unfolded them, searching through the fabric until he found the stain by his crotch. To both your horror and Steve’s, he lifted the strained fabric to his nose, sniffing deep.
  “Mm. White wine?”
  It took Steve a moment to find his voice and close his jaw, “Crush. The soda.”
  “Same thing. We’ll get this right out, my man.”
  You and Steve shared one more look of disbelief before he slowly backed away, the bell above the door sounding as he left.
  “He’s a nice guy,” Murray commented and you shrugged your shoulders, wanting this conversation to be over, “I’m surprised you know him, little loser.”
  You shot him a glare.
  “Oh, c’mon, lets not pretend you’ve got an active social life—if I call you in for a shift, you’re available. Nothing wrong with being a loser. I was one throughout high school and look at me now. Who got the last laugh?”
  You were positive the look of pain on your face should have told Murray that anyone other than him got the last laugh. He was a forty something year old, afraid of technology, convinced the government was watching him, who tried to befriend teenagers. 
  You’d have to kill yourself if you were anything like him.
  When he disappeared back into the office, because of course you’d have to get rid of that stain for Steve, you snatched the pair of pants off the counter. Glancing around to make sure there weren’t any eyes on you, you pressed them to the side of your face, imagining yourself hugging Steve instead of the pants. They smelled like him. It was bliss.
  Then your eyes snapped open.
  Oh, god. You were a loser.
  After your shift, you’d gone straight home. Normally, you’d stop to grab a bite or something, you still had to pay for the mirror you broke so fast food was off the table for a couple of weeks, but on your dining room table when you walked into the house.
  A pizza box. Your stomach growled as you imagined the slice of cheese waiting for you.
  “Is there any left?” You asked, already making a beeline for it.
  “Should be a slice left,” Your dad mused and as you tossed the top of it open, all you wanted to do was maybe beat him with it.
  There, on the parchment liner of the pizza box, was the skinniest and tiniest slice of pizza to ever be cut. Not even the width of two of your fingers.
  “Want me to order another one, sweetheart?” Your dad asked and Laura immediately inserted herself into the conversation. 
  “She can eat it, love muffin. Besides, we’ve got vegetables in the fridge if she’s still not full.”
  “I said we should have ordered two, but my mom had a coupon she wanted to use.” Chrissy didn’t sound impressed.
  “Yes, we got a free soda!”
  Chrissy ignored her mom, “Sissy, we’re going to the movies! You could get something there, they sell pizza and nachos, right?”
  You knew she was trying to find a solution for you, but your bullshit meter for the day had already been capped. You didn’t want movie theater pizza or concessions, you wanted a  reasonable slice of this pizza, not some scrap your step-mother had saved you. It was obvious she was implying that she, your dad and Chrissy were the perfect sized family and you were simply an afterthought. Unwelcome.
  “Yeah, I’m passing on the movie.”
  Before you could stomp upstairs, Chrissy caught your hand.
  “Sissy, please? We’ve got to bond as a family, it’s crucial. If it takes two, how can I do it as one?” She pulled you into her side.
  “Really, Chrissy, I’m super tired.”
  “You’re tired?” Laura asked, incredulous. Here we go again.
  “All you do is work with a sewing machine for hours like some old spinster, I can hardly imagine that being tiring, but my Chrissy just got back from a five hour long cheer practice. They were throwing her around like raggedy ann and she stuck every landing.” 
  “Mom, stop.” Chrissy blushed, but you could see how proud she was of herself, “I’m sure Sissy pokes herself with those needles all the time, and it hurts, I’ve been prodded myself during all of my custom fittings.”
  “I have finger calluses so I don’t even bleed anymore,” You begrudgingly admitted, “I can take it.”
  “I bet you can.”
  After they’d left for the movies, you’d gone upstairs, showered, put on your comfiest pajamas and fuzziest slippers, you grabbed a bowl of chips and set yourself up in front of the TV to watch Dawn of the Dead. You had to give props to all these zombie actors, you couldn’t imagine having to act out being one of the walking undead, imagined it felt pretty stupid but the paycheck and experience must have been cool.
  You popped another chip into your mouth just as someone knocked on the front door. As you placed the bowl of chips on the table to get up, the knocking got louder, more aggressive and you hesitated, fear beginning to swell up inside of you.
  Maybe if you ignored it, they’d go away.
  You turned your attention back to the tv, picking up the remote to lower the volume and hopefully hide your presence in the house. 
  Then, much to your horror, you heard the distinct sound of a pained, gurgling groan. It sounded very similar to the ones you’d heard the zombies making on your tv, but this one was louder. 
  And it was coming from outside your front door.
  You crouched, duckwalking to the foyer where one of the house phones was placed. You’d just picked it up from the receiver when a shadow from the living room window caught your eye. You barely had time to turn your head when something came crashing through it, breaking the glass and yanking the curtains from the rod.
  Shocked, the phone slipped from your hands, banging against the hardwood floor of the foyer and you let out a scream at the same time as the person on your TV, running away from the figure invading your home. 
  You made it to the dinning room. Literally scrambling across the table to put an obstacle between you and the stranger—no, creature. Tall, caked in mud, leaves and stems, it resembled the Swamp Thing. It grunted, groans low and reverberating off the walls.
  “Uuuhhhnng…”
  This couldn’t be happening to you, you couldn’t die like this!!!! It was supposed to be by your hand or nothing!
  ”STAY AWAY FROM ME!” You shrieked, picking up the decorative plates from the table to throw at the creature. You nailed it a couple of times, watching it stumble as the fine china shattered against it. When you ran out of plates, you bolted from the dinning room, screaming as you scrambled up the stairs, and lost one of your slippers in the process but to hell with it! You had to get out of there. Hopefully, one of your neighbors heard your shrieks of terror and called the police.
  You peaked over the railing at the top of the stairs, to see the creature analyzing your slipper. While it was distracted, you locked yourself in your room and made your way to your bedroom window, pulling it open.
  “Okay, okay. I can do this, no big deal. Stunt actors do it all the time.” You climbed outside of your window, body nearly convulsing as you almost slipped down the roof, “Nonononono.”
  You tried to grip onto a couple of shingles but they gave away, slipping right off the house to shatter against the concrete walkway and you realized Laura had no fucking idea what she was doing when it came to house repairs, the dumb bitch had just laid the shingles out without securing them.
  “OH MY GOD-I’M GONNA DIE! HELP!”
  Your body slipped further down the roofing, until you were forced to grab the gutter, gagging when your fingers squelched against whatever was in it. You dangled a good six feet off the ground, and while it wasn’t exactly a ten story fall, with your luck, you’d land on your head and break your neck.
  Whimpering, you tried to pull yourself back up the roof, but it was no use. You had nothing stable to grab onto as you yanked yet another shingle clean off. You glared at it and muttered a goddammit before tossing it somewhere behind you as you went back to hanging on for dear life. 
  “Oh, no.” You mumbled, terrified as your fingertips began to lose their grip, wet with the mystery sludge from the gutter. “No, NO!” 
  You lost your grip, plummeting down but you didn’t meet the concrete. No, the Creature broke your fall and you were now face to face with it. The pressure of you landing on it, made it spit up into your face, green sludge, and you gasped before breaking out into screams again.
  Pushing yourself up and off of it as you ran around your front yard, nearly blind. You were not opening your eyes to let that bacteria infested swamp slime, water, whatever the hell it was, into your eyeballs. 
  You could hear the Creature stomping around behind you as you bobbed and weaved, could feel his presence and you could not believe you were actually gonna die fighting off a swamp monster in your front yard while blinded—in clear and plain view for your neighbors to see, by the way, and unbeknownst to you, an elderly couple was watching you, not even a little concerned about your well being or the creature chasing you around.
  “Stop it!”
  “Leave me alone!”
  “Go away, I’m just a girl!”
  The timed sprinklers went off and you were soon assaulted with them as well. With just about all your senses done for, and the sprinklers washing the guck away from your face, you made a run for the house, slamming your back against the door and locking it behind you.
  Your chest was heaving, wet body pumping with adrenaline as the back of your head thumped against the door. You weren’t done yet. That creature was still out there!!!
  You dove for the phone on the ground, hanging by its springy cord and shouted out hopefully loud enough for it to hear, “I’m calling the police, so if you don’t want your ass riddled with bullets, I’d suggest you leave! They shoot before asking questions!”
  You frantically dialed 911 but there was no ringing, instead, you could still hear buttons being pressed on the other line.
  Bleak, and accepting your fate, you put the phone back on the receiver, and turned towards the living room, where the other phone was located. 
  On the chair, next to where the table the phone normaly rested on, was The Creature. 
  You grabbed one of the lamps, ready to use it as a weapon but it didn’t attack you, just turned the phone receiver this way and that, as if admiring it. 
  Despite your fear, you took a reluctant step forward, casting the creature in the glow of the lamp you clutched and for like the billionth time that night, you gasped.
  The sprinklers had washed some of the filth off of it, too. Before, its head had been caked in a mud helmet, but now, you could actually see it’s head. It had long, disgustingly dirty curls, and wore a leather jacket, jeans and tennis shoes, all covered in grime.
  When it craned its head up to look at you, you readied the lamp, poised to throw it at it—him. It was a guy. Big brown eyes, stared up at you and he made no move to attack.
  Slowly, you lowered the lamp, and crouched down a few feet away.
  His attention returned to the phone—shoe shaped—in his hands and shakily, with stiff limbs, he put it back on the receiver.
  “It’s…It’s cool looking, right? The-The shoe phone.” 
  He glanced over at you and then the phone again as you mumbled out an explanation, 
“Our neighbor in our old town cheated on his wife and she threw all his stuff out the window at him and my dad snatched the phone.”
  “Merrrruhhhhh.” He moaned out, picking up your slipper and offering it to you. When you just stared, he dropped it and you moved the lamp to the side, crossing your legs.
  “I’ve never seen a zombie before.” You marveled, then squinted, “You are a zombie, right? An undead?”
  It took him an entire minute to choppily raise his shoulders, you realized he was shrugging. Or trying to. Every movement he made was choppy. Reminded you of how stop motion was made, except his scenes weren’t being played fast enough to have fluid movements.
  He tried to get up and promptly slipped, accidentally elbowing the mini sound system at his side. It turned on, Sinead O’Connor’s Drink Before the War playing. You’d been the last to use it.
  You watched as his head tilted in interest as Sinead began to croon out lyrics.
  “Do you like music? This is Sinead O’Connor. She makes music that heals souls.”
  He raised his wrist to his chest and you inhaled sharply as you realized he was missing the hand on it.
  “Uhm, no—I don’t think she healed your soul. I meant like, figuratively. Her music makes people feel.” You placed your hands on your own chest, trying to convey your meaning, “She’s one of my favorites.”
  A surprisingly comforting silence fell over the two of you—though he sometimes made his quiet dead guy gross sounds—as you stared at him, taking in the green-gray tint of his skin beneath the dirt all over him, cheeks sunken in. You had a feeling if you touched his skin, it’d be hard, maybe waxy and it was a bit unnerving how human his eyes were, but duh! Of course they were, he was a human. Just. A dead one. At least he wasn’t a skeleton.
  Man, Hollywood wasn’t too far off with their interpretation.
  “C’mon,” You stood up, eyes taking in the state of your home and all the dirt the two of you had dragged in, “I gotta hide you, new dead friend.”
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luveline · 4 months
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hi bae, just wondering if you could write something like roommate!marauders and reader with anxiety where everytime one of them goes out she gets really worried that’s somethings gonna happen to them and waits up for them and just feels like a burden when she calls to make sure they’re alright and just general anxiety things and them being so sweet about it
love u
love u too♡
cw death related anxiety
“Hey, Remus?” you ask tentatively. 
Your housemate lays across the sofa with his dinner half eaten on the coffee table and a book tented on his chest. He's ignoring both in favour of the television, a rerun of Family Fortunes turning the sofa cushions and his pale skin a light blue. 
He drags his blue-tinged gaze from the subtitles to your frowning. “What's wrong?” he asks. You're surprised he heard you over the sound of Sirius’ stereo echoing down the stairs. 
“Where did James say he was going?” 
“I think he said he'd be at the gym for an hour now he's not in work. Want me to call him?” 
“Why would you call him?” you ask, instead of saying yes, please, like you want to. 
“You're worrying again.” 
They know how you are. It doesn't mean they have to understand —it isn't logical to think James is hurt because he hasn't been home today yet, and none of them are required to humour you in your worry, but they always do. 
You feel sick as he takes his phone from his pocket. You've convinced yourself that James is dead, that his car curled around a bend too quickly on the drive in the rain, or that something happened at the gym, or that he never made it there at all, had a fit in the car park outside of work. Even as you think it, you know it's implausible, unlikely, just a repetitive negative anxiety worming its way into your head, but you can't make it stop. 
James doesn't answer the first time, which doesn't help, and then when he does answer the second time you're waiting for bad news. Remus smiles as he talks. “Hello? Jamie?”
James doesn't need speak phone to be heard. “Remus! I'm at the gym, what's happening?”
Remus wrinkles his nose. “What's happening? Since when do you say that?”
“What's up?” James corrects. “I'm on my way out of the gym, can you talk? You can keep me company while I drive.” 
Remus holds out the phone to you. 
“Remus?” James asks into the room. You take the phone before he can hang up, and decide to be honest, but the words get stuck like toffee between your teeth. “Hello?” 
“Hey,” you say, sending Remus a grateful look. He moves over to make room on settee for you, and his arm wraps familiarly around your shoulders as you settle in. He turns his attention back to his show. 
“Oh my god hey, angel. Remus okay?” 
“I was making him ring you, sorry. I thought… you know what I'm like. It's getting late and you aren't home, and I know I don't have the right to pester you about where you are.”
“Yeah you do,” James says, his voice louder, like his mouth is very close to the microphone. “Course you do. I'd worry too if you weren't home yet.” 
“I do this all the time, though.”
Just last week he and Sirius were out late and you'd panicked that they'd both been hurt. You stayed up until almost one in the morning waiting for them to get home from a music shop in the city, each minute after eleven like a shot of ice water in your veins. Sirius jumped when he saw you waiting in the living room, but then he'd given you a hug and rubbed at your shoulders roughly. You didn't wait up for us, did you? 
“It's worse lately, yeah?” James asks. You hum non-committal, and Remus gives you a squeeze in typical Remus fashion. You hadn't even realised he was listening, but his support makes this easier. “You're worrying about us more.”
“Yeah,” you say. “I don't know why. And it sucks because I know it's making me a lot to deal with.” 
“I would one thousand percent prefer it if you rang me then sat there worrying. That would make me feel better. And Remus and Sirius feel the same way, okay? We could all stand to ring each other a bit more anyways.” 
You rub your nose into your hand. “Sorry,” you mumble. 
“There's no need to be. I love you, ‘n I just want you to be happy. If a phone call can make that happen then why shouldn't you do it? And it's not like they're a big imposition, I like talking to you. We all do.”
James is home from the gym what could only be ten minutes later, and he leans over the back of the settee to kiss your forehead chasely. “Here we are, all safe and well.” 
“You haven't seen Sirius yet,” Remus points out.
“I can bloody well hear him. What is he listening to? Is that U2?” James shakes his head in disgust. “I can see why you were so worried I wasn't coming home. Let me go put a stop to that immediately.” 
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lecsainz · 6 months
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hey!!!! so a Londo x gf!reader where Lando is a super loving but at the same time suuper annoying and sassy boyfriend 😂
DATING WITH LANDO NORRIS
summary: that's how it would be like dating lando.
authors note: While writing this, I almost died cause I went to grab coffee, and it was SO SO SO HOT 😭 I got inspired by the messages I found on Pinterest 💅
✩. . . masterlist !
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You didn't know that dating Lando would be a test of patience. Not that you were a boring person, but Lando had a knack for teasing you just for fun, and it drove you crazy...
You're in college, juggling lectures and assignments, and Lando takes every opportunity to distract you with playful text messages and surprise visits to your campus.
Living in London together means endless opportunities for exploration, but also endless debates about whether to take the Tube or an Uber, and Lando always insists on walking, even in the rain.
Lando's idea of a romantic date involves taking you to a go-kart track and pretending to lose so that he can see you competitive and fired up.
He's super loving, and when you're stressed with exams, he'll make you tea and give you back massages, but not without adding a cheeky comment about how you should study less and cuddle more.
Whenever you're watching a Formula 1 race, he'll point at the screen and say, "That's gonna be me winning for you one day, babe."
Lando can't resist poking fun at your accent, even though he's the one with the strong British one. "Say 'water' again, love."
He insists on cooking together, but be prepared for a chaotic kitchen and lots of flour fights.
Lando loves surprising you with impromptu road trips, and while you appreciate the spontaneity, you secretly wish he'd let you pack a bag first.
He's a night owl, and you're not. He'll playfully nag you to stay up late and binge-watch Netflix series with him.
On your birthdays, Lando goes all out with surprises. One year, he arranged for you to take a ride in an actual Formula 1 car (with a professional driver, him, of course).
Lando can't help but show off his driving skills when you're in the car together, even if it means a few hair-raising moments.
He leaves sticky notes with cheesy love messages all over your apartment, which you find for days, even in the most unexpected places.
Sometimes, he intentionally loses bets just to owe you a favor he can cash in later for cuddles.
Lando's sense of humor is a mix of charming wit and cheeky sarcasm, which makes every conversation an entertaining challenge.
Lando's cooking skills are... questionable, but he'll proudly present you with his latest culinary creation, and you'll pretend it's the best thing you've ever tasted.
He loves to bug you, especially when he's jetlagged, sending all sorts of messages like:
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pucksandpower · 6 months
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Ice Queen: Ice Princess
Kimi Räikkönen x daughter!Reader
(Future) Max Verstappen x Räikkönen!Reader
Summary: before taking F1 by storm as the Ice Queen, you rose up the ranks of single-seater racing (a prologue of sorts)
Series Masterlist
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How It All Began: Age 5
The air smells of rubber and petrol as you approach the karting track, your small hand wrapped securely in your father’s. His face is a mask of nonchalance but the slight tug of his lips gives away his excitement.
You look up at him, mirroring his stoic expression. “Papa, is this like your big car?”
Kimi glances down, raising an eyebrow. “Sort of but smaller. And no fancy buttons.”
You stare at the kart, then back at him, your tiny face serious. “Will it go brrr?”
He laughs, a sound seldom heard by the media but common enough for you. “Yes, it will go brrr.”
Placing you into the seat, he starts explaining the basics. “This is the steering wheel. It’s what you use to turn the kart.”
You grab it, imitating every race start you’ve seen. “Like this?” You make a vroom sound.
He chuckles. “Exactly. And remember, it’s not just about going fast. It’s about control.”
You squint at the track then back at him. “Will there be red flags?”
“No, no red flags today. Just us,” he says, fighting back a grin.
You nod sagely, taking in the information. “Okay, Papa. But what if someone wants to overtake?”
He leans in, whispering conspiratorially, “Then you do what I do.”
You pause in a replica of Kimi’s thoughtful pose. “Don’t let them?”
He winks, “Exactly.”
After strapping you in securely, he shows you how to start the kart and you begin to drive. The wind rustles your hair and excitement bubbles as you make your way around the track for the first time.
He shouts after you, “Hold the wheel tight!”
“I know what I’m doing!” You yell back.
As you circle back to him, he crouches down, ready to help you stop the kart. “So, how was it?”
You smirk, “Okay, I guess.”
He pulls you into a hug. “You really are just like me, aren’t you?”
You beam up at him, pride evident in your young eyes. “Yep, Papa. We’re a team.”
He ruffles your hair, a soft smile on his lips. “The best team.”
Signing with Prema Racing: Age 16
“Sixteen and in Formula 3, huh?” Kimi muses, sipping his coffee as he leans against the kitchen counter. “When I was sixteen, I think I was—”
“Chasing snowmobiles in Finland?” You interrupt, smirking as you take a bite of your toast.
Your father rolls his eyes playfully. “Very funny. So, Prema?”
You nod, trying to play it cool but your excitement still shines through. “Yeah, they want me for next season.”
He raises an eyebrow, “Moving up from F4 to F3 is a big transition. It’s faster, more competitive.”
You lean against the counter opposite him, mimicking his casual stance. “I know, Papa. More buttons.”
Your father chuckles, “A lot more buttons. And more media.”
You groan, “Oh, not the media. Can’t I just drive?”
“Trust me, I’ve tried that approach,” Kimi smirks. “But they’re like mosquitoes. Persistent and out for blood.”
You consider this for a moment. “Maybe I can give one-word answers like you do?”
He grins, “It’s an art form. But sure, give it a try.”
A notification pings on your phone. It’s an email from Prema, detailing your training sessions and media days. “Speaking of which,” you show the screen to Kimi, “Media training next week.”
Kimi makes a face, “A room full of people teaching you how to not be yourself.”
You laugh, “Should I tell them I already have all the training I need from the master himself?”
He winks, “They won’t know what hit them.”
You put your dishes in the sink, your thoughts racing ahead to the upcoming season. “You think I’ll do well, Papa?”
Your father walks over, placing a hand on your shoulder. His face is serious but his eyes are warm. “I know you will. Remember to enjoy the journey, not just the destination.”
You smile, pulling him into a hug, “Thanks, Papa. I promise to make you proud.”
He hugs you back, his voice a soft murmur in your ear, “You already have.”
Formula 3: Age 16
The roar of engines, the buzzing of the crowd, the palpable tension in the air — this is it. Your first Formula 3 race.
“So,” your father begins, leaning against your garage, “Nervous?”
You shoot him a look, trying to channel his signature coolness. “Do I look nervous?”
He tilts his head, a playful smirk growing. “You’re fidgeting with your gloves. You never do that.”
You glance down at your hands and laugh, “Okay, maybe a little. But can you blame me?”
Kimi shrugs, “It’s your first F3 race. If you weren’t at least a bit nervous, I would think you’re a robot.”
A rival driver, Dan, walks by, giving you a condescending wink. “Ready to eat my dust?”
You roll your eyes, matching his bravado with ease. “Only dust I’ll be seeing is from the podium.”
Your father snorts, “Well played.”
After a few minutes, it’s time to suit up. As you’re putting on your helmet, Kimi leans in close, his voice firm yet comforting. “Remember, it’s not just about speed. Strategy matters. Don’t be rash. You know what to do and how to race smart.”
You smirk, “Who do you think you’re talking to?”
He grins, patting your helmet, “Just checking.”
As you settle into your car, the weight of the moment hits you. All the years, the training, the early mornings, and late nights — it lead to this.
The race is a blur of adrenaline. Overtakes, near misses, and strategy calls. Every now and then, you hear your father’s voice in your earpiece, offering advice or just the occasional sarcastic remark. You’re not sure how legal that is but Kimi has never been one to care much for authority.
You pass the checkered flag, a respectable fourth place finish in your first race.
Pulling back in, you climb out of your car both exhausted and exhilarated in equal measure. Your father approaches, a proud smile on his face. “Fourth place! That’s solid.”
You lean against your car, catching your breath. “Could’ve been better.”
Kimi raises an eyebrow, “Could’ve been worse.”
You laugh, “Always the optimist?”
He smirks, “Always realistic.”
A reporter approaches, mic in hand. “Quick word about your first race in F3?”
You channel your inner Kimi, giving the shortest answer possible. “It was fine.”
The reporter blinks, taken aback by your brevity. “Oh, um, any challenges?”
You shrug, “It’s racing. There are always challenges.”
Your father, watching from the side, can’t contain his laughter. As the reporter leaves, slightly flustered, he walks over, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “You really are my daughter.”
You grin, “Was there ever any doubt?”
Moving Up to Formula 2: Age 18
“Papa,” you begin as you both lounge in the living room, “I have news.”
Your father looks up from his magazine, one eyebrow raised in expectation. “You finally cleaned your room?”
You roll your eyes. “No. And thanks for the vote of confidence. I got the call. I’m moving up to Formula 2!”
He sets the magazine down, his eyes scanning your face. “That’s big. Ready for it?”
You shrug nonchalantly, a gesture you picked up from him. “It’s just another race car, right?”
Kimi chuckles, “In a faster race car. With even more buttons.”
You groan dramatically, “Great. Just what I needed. More buttons.”
He smirks, “You’ll manage. You always do.”
Training days for F2 are intense. New circuits, new challenges, and, of course, more media attention. As you take a break between testing sessions, your father walks over with a bottle of water.
“Thanks,” you take a long sip of it.
He leans against a nearby wall, watching the other drivers on the track. “How does the car feel?”
You pause to think about it. “A bit more aggressive than the F3. But I’ll adapt.”
Kimi nods, “I know you will.”
A few days later, it is time for your first F2 race. The pit lane is a frenzy of activity with teams making last-minute checks and media personnel swarming about. As you are getting ready to climb into your car, a reporter thrusts a microphone in your face.
“Your first race in F2! Nervous about the competition?”
You don’t miss a beat, “No. They should be nervous about me.”
Your father tries to suppress a laugh but fails miserably. The reporter seems slightly taken aback, “Any personal strategies for today’s race?”
You look straight into the camera, “Drive fast. Don’t crash.”
The reporter, slightly flustered, thanks you and moves on. Kimi has never looked prouder.
The race is a whirlwind of excitement. The faster cars, the tighter competition, it’s all exhilarating. You don’t finish first but you hold your own, making some impressive overtakes and defending your position fiercely.
Your father glares at a cameraman until he turns the lens away from the two of you and then pulls you into a tight hug. “Not bad, rookie.”
You smirk, “Rookie? I’ve been racing since I was five, remember?”
He chuckles, ruffling your sweaty hair, “Yeah but this is F2. Welcome to the big leagues.”
You melt further into him, soaking the moment up. “Thanks, Papa. Here’s to many more races.”
He nods, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, “And many more one-liners.”
Formula 2 Champion: Age 19
“So,” your father starts, watching as you prepare for the final race of the F2 season, “are you ready to make history today?”
You smirk, pulling on your gloves. “History is just another record waiting to be broken.”
Kimi chuckles, “You really have a line for everything.”
You shoot him a mock glare, "Look who’s talking.”
The race is a high-stakes event. You lead the championship but need a win today to cement your position and make you the first woman to claim the F2 title.
The cars roar to life and you can almost taste the tension in the pit lane. Your father leans in, his voice steady despite the chaos all around you. “Drive like you always do. Focused and fearless.”
You nod in determination. “Got it, Papa.”
The race is an intense battle of strategy, speed, and skill. Every overtake, every defensive maneuver, every millisecond counts. When you see the checkered flag waving and cross the finish line in first place, the weight of your achievement truly begins to sink in.
Emerging from your car, you swiftly climb onto the nose and raise your arms triumphantly, soaking in the jubilation around you. The barriers surrounding parc fermé are immediately swarmed by your team and reporters, but through the crowd, you spot your father. The pride in his eyes is unmistakable and he even smiles publicly despite all the cameras undoubtably capturing the moment. He pushes through, pulling you into a tight hug as the team erupts in cheers around you.
“You did it,” his voice is uncharacteristically choked with emotion.
You grin, pulling back to look at him. “We did it.”
The post-race interview is a blur of questions about your historic win but one question stands out. “How does it feel to be the first woman to win the F2 championship?”
With a sly glance towards your father, you reply, “I didn’t set out to be the first woman to win it. I set out to win it.”
Your father lets out a loud laugh, drawing the attention of the reporters much to his chagrin. They turn their mics to him, “Kimi, thoughts on your daughter's achievement?”
He looks at you, his signature deadpan expression in place, “She’s okay, I guess.”
You roll your eyes, nudging him playfully, but the hint of a smile remaining on his face despite the media surrounding both of you reveals his pride.
The celebration that night is a mix of laughter, vodka, and memories. As you both sit, watching the team revel in the moment, Kimi turns to you. “I always knew you had it in you. But seeing it ... seeing you out there today … I’m beyond proud.”
You smile, resting your head on his shoulder as the liquor begins to take its toll. “Couldn’t have done it without you, Papa.”
When You Really Made It: Age 19
“You’re looking at that paper like it’s written in another language,” your father comments while sipping his morning coffee.
You glance up, the dual contracts from Red Bull Racing and Scuderia AlphaTauri spread out on the desk in front of you. “Sure feels like it. Formula 1! Can you believe it?”
He smirks, “Considering you’re my daughter and I taught you everything you know? Absolutely.”
You roll your eyes but can’t suppress a smile. “How modest of you, Papa.”
A knock on the door interrupts the moment. It’s Christian Horner and Franz Tost. "Ready to discuss the details?"
You look to Kimi, who gives a nod. “Let’s do it.”
As the team principals explains the nuances, clauses, and expectations, you occasionally exchange amused glances with your father, particularly when terms get overly convoluted.
After they leave, you sink into a chair, decidedly overwhelmed. “This is big.”
Kimi sits across from you. “It’s a step up. But it’s where you belong.”
You look at the contract again and then at your father. “Think I can handle the pressure?”
He raises an eyebrow, “Are you asking me or telling me?”
You smirk, “Maybe a bit of both.”
“That’s the spirit.”
The next few days are a whirlwind of race suit fittings, team briefings, and media obligations. The latter being your least favorite part.
During one press conference, a reporter asks, “How does it feel to be following in your father’s footsteps?”
You press your lips together, “I’m not. I’m making my own.”
Another inquires, “Any fears about competing at this level?”
You shoot him a deadpan look, “Fear is for the drivers who see me coming in their mirrors.”
Kimi, watching from a shadowed corner, struggles to keep a straight face and walks up to you with the tiniest of smiles that anyone else would miss after the presser, “You really have a knack for this.”
You smile back, “I learned from the best.”
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Taglist: @ironmaiden1313 @ilovedreming @jamie2305 @reidsworld @notyouraveragemochii @faithm120601
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zarameraki · 2 months
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♡₊˚🎀・₊✧ 𝗻𝗮𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗶 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗴𝗼𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗯𝗶𝗿𝘁𝗵𝗱𝗮𝘆 . . . 𝗼𝗿 𝗱𝗶𝗱 𝗵𝗲? ♡₊˚🎀・₊✧
: ̗̀➛ read part one first
: ̗̀➛ tropes: fem! reader 𖥔 nanami forgot your birthday but he's got something special planned 𖥔 ceo x baker 𖥔 grumpy x sunshine 𖥔 she talks a lot x he listens a lot 𖥔 cold shoulder treatment 𖥔 mention of parental death 𖥔 major fluff 𖥔 sfw 𖥔 alternate universe 𖥔 super soft nanami 𖥔 close proximity
: ̗̀➛ words: 4.1 k
: ̗̀➛ notes: we're back again with fluffy nanami. honestly i shed a tear writing this one because it's just so adjfskdf. if you haven't read part one, go DO IT. RIGHT NOW. if you enjoy my work, please leave a comment, like, and reblog! thank you & ily. enjoy!
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It's been a year since you took that leap, moving in with Nanami. Every day spent in each other's company feels like a fresh chapter, and the magic of your relationship persists as if it were the very first night.
Nanami, with his gentle smile and warm eyes, never tires of recounting the story from his perspective. Each time you ask, he patiently agrees to retell it, even though you've long since memorized every detail. The familiarity of his narrative only adds to the charm, as if reliving those moments helps both of you cherish the journey that brought you together.
“You invited a couple of my colleagues to your bakery's opening, and they brought back leftover cookies and pastries to the office. I grabbed some, and with the first bite, I knew your bakery was going to be my favorite. So, I asked Gojo to drive me to your city, not knowing it was going to rain that night. With no parking nearby, I ended up walking. Halfway through, it started pouring. Luckily, I made it just in time, and there you were, smiling like the sun that was supposed to be in the sky. You offered me free food and shelter, and right then, darling, I fell in love with you. It was the most incredible feeling in the world.”
Each time he finishes his heartwarming story, you can't help but be overwhelmed with emotion. Without hesitation, you jump on him with a flurry of kisses, showering him with all the love you harbor for your sweet, stoic boyfriend.
You've shared every conscious moment together since then. With Nanami now working remotely, he'd set up at one of the dining tables in your bakery, delving into meetings and paperwork. You'd plant kisses on his cheek or embrace him from behind, providing a boost of energy. Delivering his special casse-croûte and milk coffee, you occasionally found yourself feeding him as his busy hands typed away. Breaks led to stolen moments in the back room, where you'd make out like teenagers.
Once at home, you'd strip out of your clothes, shower or bathe together, and engage in domestic activities like watching television or attempting to nap, but those often evolved into extended sessions of sex.
Today, silence lingered between you two following a heated argument the previous night.
Unbeknownst to Nanami, your birthday was just around the corner, yet he had scheduled a business trip on that very day. Despite the depth of his knowledge about your past, from childhood playground scars to the dresses you wore for school dances, he seemed oblivious to the significance of the impending date.
In a seemingly nonchalant manner, Nanami had mentioned, “Darling, I'll be away on a business trip from the sixth and will return on the eighth. We can plan a picnic or head to the beach—whatever you prefer.”
“The sixth?” You had to set your utensils down, turning to face him. Your meals were typically enjoyed on the carpet, with plates on the coffee table and your favorite movies playing on the television. “You have a business trip? On the sixth?”
“Yes, that's correct.”
“Kento, what the hell? Why?”
He arched an eyebrow. “It's my job, darling. That's why. It's been on my agenda for a month. Missing it would mean losing out on a lucrative deal."
“But—” You caught yourself mid-sentence.
At that moment, you wished you could shout that it was your first-ever birthday celebration since your parents’ passing.
His birthday had been just two days prior, and you had gone all out—decorating the apartment, baking a cake, preparing a feast of his favorite dishes, buying him new cufflinks, and giving him the blowjob of the century as the cherry on top. It had become one of your cherished days together, an occasion you had been planning for weeks.
“But?” Nanami prodded.
You clenched your jaw. “But it's... you know. It's.”
“What's going on?” he asked, genuinely befuddled. “Did I miss something?”
Your lips quivered, and in an attempt to silence them, you stuffed a dumpling into your mouth, shaking your head. “Never mind.”
“Please, talk to me.”
Ignoring his plea, you continued shaking your head as he gently pulled at your shoulder to make you face him. Tears welled up in your eyes, streaming down your flushed cheeks. Even swallowing the dumpling felt like a struggle amid the surge of complaints in your throat.
“Darling—”
“Just forget it, Nanami.” You wiped your cheeks, your open hair concealing one side of your face. “You already have,” you whispered to yourself.
“Fine,” Nanami replied, casually returning to his food. It wouldn't have been a big deal if you had just mentioned your birthday, but it stung. He should know. After all, he's Nanami—meticulous with schedules, mindful of important dates, and impeccable with time management. Why doesn't he know?
“Are you joking?” you exclaimed, grabbing the remote from his grasp and turning off the movie. “That's all you have to say? ‘Fine’?”
“You told me to forget about it.”
“Yeah, I did. But that doesn't mean you actually forget.”
“I don't get it.”
“Of course you don't.”
He sighed, and you berated yourself for being so obstinate. You resented that sigh, as it made you feel like a nuisance. Yet, it was a warranted sigh, so you let it slide. “Are you upset?”
“What?”
“You are. I can't believe you're upset.” Running your fingers through your hair, you picked up your plate. “I'm going to bed before I say something stupid. Goodnight. Enjoy your trip.”
“Y/N—”
“Goodnight.”
“My love, what’s bothering you?” he asked from the living room while you dumped your dish in the sink. “Would you please just talk to me? Have I said something to offend you?” 
You walked off toward your bedroom, into your bathroom, and locked the door. Turning on the shower, you sat down on the floor, holding your knees and crying in the gap between. 
You've been ignoring Nanami ever since you woke up nestled against his chest—your body was naturally attuned to his. But since then, you've been withdrawn and moody, casting a shadow over your usual sunny demeanor. Even some of your regular customers have noticed and asked if you were unwell, but you brushed it off with a forced smile and a minor headache excuse. As you were wiping down tables, Nanami entered during lunchtime. You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, then retreated behind the counter, placing his coffee cup and sandwich a bit too forcefully.
“Thank you, darling,” he said, accepting it. “Would you like to join—” 
“That'll be ten-fifty,” you interrupted, fingers already inputting the amount without meeting his gaze. You’ve never once charged him since you started dating; everything he desired was on the house because he was your favorite regular and person. You loved him so much that you even experimented in baking his beloved pastries and added them to the menu. Yet, he forgot your birthday.
Nanami retrieved the exact change from his wallet and extended it to you. Your hand snatched it, guilt gnawing at you instantly. Pretending to open the cash register, you discreetly slipped the money into your apron instead.
“Would you like to join me?” he asked once more.
You slammed the cash drawer shut and swiftly turned, heading to the inventory room to immerse yourself in organizing as a distraction.
As Nanami waited outside, thumbs dancing over his phone’s keyboard, you couldn't help but notice his sudden shift in demeanor when you approached. Your mind raced with suspicions of infidelity, but rationality reminded you of his busy schedule now that he wasn't in the office regularly. He was too devoted to you to entertain such thoughts.
Nanami reached out his hand, but you brushed past him, burying your hands in your cardigan. Determined to celebrate your birthday, albeit alone, you headed to the nearest supermarket for groceries. You planned to indulge in your favorite pasta dish, bake fudge brownies, and allow yourself to feel whatever emotions came, whether tears of joy or sadness. Today, you'd celebrate yourself. Happy birthday to you.
Nanami followed you into the supermarket, walking beside you as he added both your and his favorite snacks to the cart. You were determined to make him pay for it all, although you knew he would insist on covering the expenses regardless. Throughout the year you had been together, Nanami never once allowed you to spend your own money. Even during online shopping, he always managed to intercept, distracting you with neck kisses until you surrendered to using his card.
You couldn't help but pout and shoot him a sidelong glance as he meticulously examined the ingredients on a bag of chips. Your gaze then shifted to the cake mix and icing packets, giving you an idea. Bingo. 
If you weren't going to outright mention your upcoming birthday, you could at least drop a hint.
Clearing your throat, you grabbed a chocolate-vanilla mix with caramel icing and deposited it into the cart. Nanami observed the entire exchange, briefly meeting your gaze with a neutral expression before returning to scrutinizing the ingredients as though they were sacred text.
Damn him! 
“Excuse me, sir?” you called, drawing an innocent elderly employee into your scheme. “It's my friend's birthday tomorrow, and I'm torn between which cake mix to choose. Could you help me out?”
As Nanami switched to a different chip bag, your frustration simmered, but the employee weighed his options, eventually settling on chocolate-vanilla. Grateful, you thanked him and strode away, the cart trailing behind.
Nanami handled the grocery payment and bagging while you observed with arms crossed.
Back at home, you kicked off your shoes, discarded your cardigan on the floor, and trudged wearily to your bedroom. The sounds of the fridge and cabinets being stocked echoed as you sprawled out like a starfish.
“Is he pretending?” you mumbled to yourself. “He must be, right? He couldn't have forgotten my birthday. No way.”
Quickly, you took your phone, dialing Satoru, his assistant. The call forwarded instantly, but his response, received a minute later, left you irritated beyond measure.
Satoru: Sorry, Y/N. Can’t take your call. Packing for a business trip tomorrow. We’re going to Thailand. Will get you a souvenir! 
Feeling frustrated, you left him on read and flopped onto your stomach, letting out a scream into the pillow. 
Skipping dinner with Nanami, you stayed curled up in bed instead. Despite his attempts to comfort you, kissing your cheeks and tucking you in, you couldn't shake the ache in your heart as you heard him packing in the closet, trying to hide your tears. 
It was well past midnight when you finally stirred awake. 
Glancing over your shoulder, you found Nanami meters away from you. The realization hit you hard: he had genuinely forgotten your birthday. A mountain settled on your chest as you watched him sleep peacefully, unaware of his oversight. He didn't reach out to hold you close or pull you into his embrace; instead, he slept facing away from you.
You wiped away the tears from your tired eyes, then got up and took your pillows to the living room, hoping to find some sleep on the couch. Instead, you found yourself captivated by the sight of the sunrise.
Meanwhile, Nanami seemed unusually relaxed as he prepared for his business trip, taking his time with his morning routine. He took his time showering, shaving, and ironing his clothes—tasks that you usually handled. He adorned himself with the cuff links you gave him for his birthday and wore the cologne from your six-month anniversary. It stung a bit, realizing how diligent you were in remembering special dates while he seemed to forget them so easily.
But you shrugged it off. 
Today was your birthday, and you were determined to make it special, even if you had to celebrate alone. Your customers were already aware that you'd be closed for the day, giving you the entire day and night, plus tomorrow, to yourself. Previous birthdays had been spent in isolation since your parents passed away. This one was supposed to be different because you had Nanami, yet he seemed to overlook its significance.
As you washed your breakfast dishes, disappointment bubbled up inside you, causing you to grip the sponge tightly. Deciding to put off the chore, you washed your hands and turned your attention to baking a cake for yourself.
Nanami sauntered into the kitchen, nonchalantly lugging three hefty suitcases. Why the hell did he need three massive suitcases? Your boyfriend had become a complete mystery to you. You scowled as he tapped away on his phone, the urge to grab it and fling it off the balcony almost irresistible. What luxury could those three suitcases possibly hold? Perhaps new dresses, shoes, or jewelry for whoever was receiving his relentless texts. With his poker-face, it was impossible to tell if it was a woman on the other end.
“Kento.” 
Nanami's head jerked up. “Yes, dar—”
“It's my birthday today,” you finally admitted. Enough was enough. You needed him to know and feel miserable for forgetting it while he was on this supposed business trip. You knew it wasn't merely business. He always took you along on such trips. Business trip, my ass. It was clear he was having an affair. “It's my birthday today, Kento.”
His mouth opened to respond, but the ringing phone interrupted him. 
You scoffed at the timing of it all, abandoning the cake mixture in the pan. “Have a safe trip.” You walked past him, slamming the bedroom door shut, and collapsed under the covers, sobbing.
Something chimed persistently in the background, prodding at your temples like a sharp stick, urging you to wake up. 
You fumbled around on the mattress, locating your vibrating phone and swiping right, still half-asleep. 
“Hello?” you croaked out.
“Oh, thank God!” panted Gojo's voice. “There's an emergency with Nanami, Y/N!”
“What?” You shot up in bed, immediately springing into action.
“We were headed to the airport when he suddenly fell ill and started vomiting!” You listened intently as you hurriedly searched through your closet for your cardigan. “I brought him to your bakery since it was closer.” Nanami did have a spare key to your bakery for emergencies. “He's really not doing well, Y/N. Please come as quickly as you can.”
“I'm on my way, Satoru! Thanks for letting me know. I'll be there in a flash. Keep comforting him and try making him some green tea if possible. I can't find anything—Where did all my clothes go?” You shuffled his suits aside and rummaged through your drawers, finding only a few undergarments but nothing else. “Damn it. Alright, I'll be there soon.”
“Of course. See you soon!”
You pushed aside all distractions and focused solely on Nanami, hastily grabbing your bathrobe to cover your shorts and tank top. Rushing to the elevator, you repeatedly pressed the lobby button, feeling your body tremble with anxiety. Your chin quivered as you bit down on your bottom lip, overwhelmed by guilt. Nanami wasn’t prone to sickness as much as you were, but your cold shoulder must’ve given him a cold. The thought made you despise yourself even more, tears streaming down your face as you hurried along the sidewalk, navigating past cyclists and ignoring the curious stares of passersby.
You entered your bakery, the door pushing open with a jingle. “Kento! Ken—”
Your words halted.
The space was decorated with a multitude of lit candles, casting a warm glow over every surface - the counter, tables, chairs, and bare shelves. A three-tiered vanilla chocolate cake adorned with “Happy Birthday Y/N” in elegant script stood proudly on a table. A trail of fresh rose petals led to a solitary chair facing a makeshift projector screen fashioned from a white bed sheet. On the screen, a paused video titled “Life In Her Eyes” awaited.
With cautious steps, you approached the lone chair, scanning the bakery for any signs of activity but finding none. Nervously, you moistened your lips and reached for the small remote with a note reading “Play me,” before settling into the seat.
With a trembling hand, you pressed play on the three-minute video.
“This is my beautiful girlfriend, Y/N,”  Nanami's voice narrated in the video, overlaying a scene where you filmed your boyfriend tossing pebbles into the ocean. “She loves to record every single moment we spent together.” The scene shifted to you capturing Nanami's reaction to Alice Vision in Breaking Dawn Part Two. “She loves feeding me if I’m busy working.” A moment captured where you sat on his lap, sharing a pastry and planting a kiss on his cheek. “She loves sunrises and sunsets.” Your camera focused on Nanami's back against the colorful sky. “She insists I hold every stray cat because apparently, an attractive man with a pet drives her wild." Nanami's expression remained composed as he gently stroked the purring white Siamese. 
“It’s the truth,” you muttered, using your arm to wipe away the tears and mucus from your runny nose. 
“Y/N loves collecting miniature figurines, plush toys, and vintage trinkets.” In a solo vlog, you showcased your latest shopping haul for Nanami, who was in Shibuya for a board meeting. “All. The. Time.” Vlog after vlog, Nanami gathered them all and edited them into snappy clips. “She has a passion for photographing meals and desserts, whether we dine out, order takeout, or cook at home.” The footage captured you filming your dinner plates and soliciting Nanami's ratings as he munched, nodded, and gave you a thumbs up. When he requested the clips, you didn't think much of it. “I haven't met anyone who cherishes life's little joys quite like Y/N.”
The fast-paced snippets capture moments of you brushing dirt off flowers, generously offering cookies to teens studying in your bakery, crafting a necklace from seashells collected at the beach, attempting an ASMR mukbang with Nanami but ending up laughing too much, sharing your collection of hair ribbons, exploring the streets of Malaysia hand-in-hand on your first abroad trip, playfully filming him exercising and flipping the camera to fan yourself and bite your lip, sharing kisses while painting on the living room floor, and him peacefully asleep with his head resting on your chest—
Suddenly, the screen goes black, displaying the title “Life In My Eyes.”
Wiping away tears, you lean forward eagerly, curious about what other scenes he has in store.
Then, your own face fills the screen, bathed in the warm glow of the golden hour, with fluffy summer clouds behind you. Instantly, you recognize the setting: the cliff in Malaysia where you once spent hours talking. But in this clip, your eyes are closed, and you're facing ahead while Nanami captures your profile.
It switched to a different scene of you peacefully asleep against his chest, wrapped in one of his soft cashmere sweaters.
Then, it transitioned to you busy in the kitchen, a smudge of flour on your cheek and strands of hair escaping from your bun.
Next, it showed you tackling household chores, applying makeup, hurrying around declaring, “We're going to be late for the airport,” or shedding tears during the finale of “Happy Feet 2,” or enjoying a quiet moment reading and jotting notes on your balcony.
“Are you recording me?” Suddenly, a clip appeared of you playing with Sumo, a cat you had instantly fallen in love with at the pet adoption center.
“Yes,” Nanami confirmed.
“Pfft. That's my job,” you replied, returning to playing with Sumo. Nanami awkwardly turned the camera around, unable to find the right function to flip screens, and winked.
Then, it shifted to a dimly lit room illuminated solely by flickering candle lights. 
It was your bakery. 
You appeared on the screen, seated with your back to the camera. You waved an arm, only to realize it was a live feed.
What the . . . ?
Confused, you turned around to locate the camera, but instead found Nanami. On one knee. Holding a red-suede box containing a diamond ring. 
You almost tumbled off your chair in disbelief.
Nanami . . . Nanami was proposing to you.
Your boyfriend . . . soon to be your fiancé. 
And you couldn't breathe.
Panic threatened to overwhelm you. 
But first, you needed to slip that ring onto your finger and shower him with kisses.
Approaching him, you dropped to your knees, gently holding his face in your hands as you kissed him. Tears mingled with your synchronized lips, memories of his touching video playing in your mind. Life, in your eyes, was simply the joys of it. But in his eyes, life was you. You were his reason for living. And he was your heart, keeping you alive.
You pulled back, nodding silently as he slid the ring onto your finger. You noticed his initials on the inner rim, and a sob choked out of you, quickly sealing the moment with a kiss. His arm encircled your waist as he lifted you up, kissing you passionately. It felt like a soldier returning from battle, your body bending back as his smile widened against your lips. Soon, you would be Mrs. Nanami. Holy cow. 
“Happy birthday, darling,” Nanami murmured softly as you tried to catch your breath. He gestured with a finger and walked over to the back of the counter. “Close your eyes for me, my love.”
You shut them tightly, wiping away the tears, and sniffled, taking a deep breath.
“Hold out your hands,” Nanami whispered.
You complied.
Something small, soft, and incredibly fuzzy settled onto your palms. 
“Mew.”
Your eyes flew open, and there he was. Sumo. It was Sumo, the kitten who had both you and your boyfriend—fiancé—enchanted with his charm. You whined about adopting him once you left the shelter, but Nanami had been practical and kept the idea aside.
“Is he . . . Is he ours?” you asked, gazing into the feline’s sky-blue eyes.
“He's ours,” Nanami replied with a smile.
“He's—Oh my goodness, I'm going to start crying again.” And indeed, you did cry, holding Sumo tightly against your heart, gazing at the radiant diamond ring on your finger, and observing Nanami wipe away a tear from his eye's inner corner. “Kento, we're getting married!”
“I know, my love.” He planted kisses on your forehead, damp cheeks, and lips. “I can’t breathe,” he whispered, stealing another kiss. “You'll soon be my wife.”
“And you'll be my husband.”
“Such a privilege.”
You chuckled, giving him a quick kiss and wrapping your arm around his waist. Resting your head on his chest, you both admired Sumo staring wide-eyed at his parents. “I don't think I've cried this much since . . . ” You sealed the mention of your parents’ passing with a sigh. 
“I broke your heart with my plan,” he rasped out. “And I apologize sincerely for it. Satoru assured me it was foolproof, and regrettably, I trusted his judgment.”
It was no surprise it was his assistant.
“Where is he, by the way?”
“Parked down the block,” Nanami replied, lifting Sumo with his large hands to place him in his carrier. “I've already packed our bags for a trip. I'm taking you to Italy.”
“Huh?”
Nanami was nonchalant as he tidied up around the bakery, extinguishing the candles. “It's just for the weekend. I've spent the past week crafting an itinerary with all your favorite spots and restaurants to visit. You'll love the hotel we're staying at.”
You were about to bombard him with a barrage of questions, but instead, you couldn't help but smile.This was Nanami, after all. He had a knack for surprising you. One minute he'd be showering you with affection, the next he'd be whisking you away to Dubai for a vacation. One minute he'd forget your birthday, and the next he'd be proposing on one knee, presenting you with the cat you'd always wanted and whisking you off to your dream destination.
“—and there's this café that sells the most delicious macaroons—”
You interrupted him by pulling him close, planting a kiss on his lips, and wrapping your arms around him. Nanami eagerly responded, one hand resting on the small of your back and the other cradling the back of your head. When you finally broke apart, breathless, you looked into his hazel eyes and said, “Let's take our time, play with Sumo, and enjoy the cake you baked.”
“How did you know I baked it?”
You shrugged. “Baker's intuition.”
Nanami embraced you, resting his chin on your head. He took a deep breath as if replenishing his oxygen supply. His fingers gently ran through your hair, soothingly rubbing your back. “I love you, Y/N,” he whispered as though it were a fleeting thought. 
You nuzzled closer to his chest. “I love you too, Kento.”
706 notes · View notes
togrowoldinv · 25 days
Text
Memory
Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader
You feel like you’ve met her before, but you just can’t remember when or how. It turns out there’s a lot you don’t remember
Note: Hey y’all. I have been swamped these last couple of weeks studying for and taking a part of the cpa exam, but I finally had a free moment to have some fun. I went and saw Argylle, so this is loosely inspired by that. Enjoy it!
Natasha Masterlist 1, Natasha Masterlist 2, Natasha Masterlist 3, Main Masterlist
The room is silent aside from the clicks of a keyboard as Natasha tries to break through a firewall. She’s smart, but the person who created it is slightly smarter than her.
The redhead smirks when she is one step from breaking through, but her cheekiness doesn’t last. An alarm sounds and she’s met with at least ten agents swarming all around her.
“Oh hey, guess you guys found the party,” she says in her usual cool under pressure tone.
She uses the agents’ hesitation to begin attacking them to deal the first blows. She takes them down two at a time until there’s only one left. She knows who he is.
“Are we going to do this the easy way or the hard way?” Natasha asks.
“You know what I want,” he says.
“And you know what I want,” Nat replies.
The two of them keep their guns in ready position. Nat alerted for backup, but she knows most likely she’ll have to handle this on her own.
“Where is the woman?” The man asks. He shakes his gun at Nat. She sees a weakness in the way he’s holding it. He won’t last.
“If you give me the intel, I’ll give you her location,” Nat says.
“You’re lying!”
“Maybe. Or maybe I’m telling you the truth. They’re never really that different, right?”
“Drop your weapon,” he tries another tactic.
Natasha just smirks. She moves her left arm down and the man mistakenly thinks she’s giving in. The moment he shifts his aim Nat takes a shot at him. It’s an easy shot for her.
He goes down and Nat finishes gathering her data from the computer before she quickly gets out of the building. That backup she was waiting for finally arrives as she’s making her way outside.
“Thanks for the help,” she says sarcastically as Steve opens the door for her.
“Sorry,” he says. “We can’t be everywhere all the time. What were you even doing here?”
“Gathering intel,” Nat says simply. She shows him the flash drive and he just shakes his head. “The more I can find out the better I can help her, Steve. It’s an easy choice to make.”
“Nat, she’s so far gone,” he tries. “It might be worth stopping.”
“I’ll never give up on her. She’ll be herself again. I know it,” Natasha says. “Now, will you help me get this to Stark to decode?”
“Of course I’ll help you, Romanoff.”
She nods in thanks. For the rest of the drive, Natasha thinks about what her next step should be. There’s no easy fix to this situation. She needs to go where her mind works best.
Meanwhile, you are working on cleaning tables when the most beautiful woman walks in. You’ve seen her in here several times since you started working here.
She always sits at the table in the corner and orders coffee and a piece of chocolate pie. It’s always the same thing. You’ve never waited on her before, but somehow the stars align today and you’re covering that section.
You walk to her table and take a deep breath. She’s even more beautiful from this close up.
“Hey, how are you today?” You ask her.
“I’m okay,” she replies. “How are you?”
“Can’t complain,” you say. It’s your typical response when a customer asks you that question. “What can I get for you, ma’am?”
She orders her usual. You feel her eyes linger on you as you pour the coffee and bring her slice of pie to the table.
Something feels familiar about the way she smiles at you in thanks.
“Do I know you?” You ask her. She doesn’t reply, but you notice she looks away from you. “Sorry, it’s just that I had some memory loss so I’m just not quite sure who I know at this point.”
“Oh, I’m very sorry,” she says. “I don’t think we know each other though, no.”
“You seem familiar,” you tell her.
“Well, I am an Avenger so maybe that’s it,” she says. “I’m Natasha.”
“Right. The superheroes. It’s nice to meet you, Natasha,” you say. “I’m y/n.”
You hold out your hand for her to shake. When she does, you swear there’s still a lingering feeling that you know her. Maybe you’ve just seen her on television.
“I better get back to work,” you say.
“Nice to meet you, y/n,” Natasha says.
She stands from her chair and drops cash on the table. Walking towards the door, she stops short and turns back to look at you. You offer her a smile that she returns.
With that, she disappears into the city. The rest of the day goes by seemingly without any other excitement. You can’t stop thinking about your interaction with the woman, which is why you thought you were dreaming when she shows up at your door.
You blink hard to try and wake up, but the reality is that she’s truly here.
“Natasha?” You ask confusedly.
“I don’t have time to explain,” she says. “Can I come in?”
“I- what? Okay?”
She takes that as a yes. She walks inside and goes straight to the corner of the room where she picks up a piece of the floor to reveal a secret storage area.
Natasha fills her bag with the weapons that were stored under the floor.
“What is happening?” You ask her.
“Just trust me,” Nat says.
“I just met you today and you somehow know about this secret area of my house I didn’t even know about. And I’m supposed to trust you?”
“Yes,” Natasha replies. “Come on. Get some shoes on. We have two minutes.”
“Two minutes before what?”
She doesn’t get the chance to answer before a loud bang comes from outside. A series of car doors close simultaneously.
“Look, I know you don’t know me but you have to trust me. These guys are after you and if we don’t bail in the next thirty seconds we’re dead. Got it?” Natasha says.
“What?” You ask. It seems to be the only word in your vocabulary right now.
She grabs your hand and pulls you through your house. Once you’re outside, you go through the fence to the neighbors yard.
“Here,” Nat says, pulling you to a motorcycle that’s waiting there.
“I am not riding on that,” you say.
“Then you’ll be dead within minutes. Come on, y/n,” Nat says. She puts the helmet on your head involuntarily.
You have no choice but to listen to her. Hopping onto the bike, you hold on tight to her middle as she drives through the streets. At some point, a van is tailing the two of you. Natasha turns down every alleyway and street she can to get you away from the tail.
“When I say jump, you’ve got to jump!” Nat says over the roar of the engine.
“What?”
You’re quickly approaching a road that you can see has no end. She drives full speed ahead before letting go of the handlebars.
“Jump!” Nat shouts.
You cling onto her as you both jump. You have no idea how far the drop is but somehow you land in water. Natasha pulls you to the surface quickly.
You get to shore and try to gather yourself some. You’re so confused about all of this.
“Are you okay?” She asks.
“Am I okay?” You ask her. “Seriously, you’re asking me that? I don’t know who you are or what’s happening. We just got chased by a van through town and jumped off a motorcycle into a fucking lake. Do you think I’m okay?”
The woman has the audacity to smile at your words.
“I’m sorry, do you think this is funny?” You ask her, feeling fury seethe inside you.
“No,” Natasha says too quickly. “No, it’s just- nevermind. We have to get to the Avenger’s compound.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” you tell her matter of factly.
“Y/n-“
“Don’t!” You interrupt her. “Just leave me alone.”
Nat raises her hands in surrender and watches as you walk away. She lets you get ten steps ahead before she follows after you.
“I told you to let me be.”
“You’re up there all alone. I just happen to be walking in the same direction,” Natasha reasons. “Although, the compound is the other way.”
Despite the fact that you were just doing insanely dangerous tasks with her, you feel a certain safety in her presence.
“Why should I go with you?” You pose a question.
You notice her hesitation in answering. Like she wants to tell you something but she just can’t.
“If you just come with me, I’ll explain everything there. Okay? Please give me a chance,” Nat says. “I won’t be responsible for them finding you and finishing the job.”
“What job? I’m just a waitress. Who could I possibly have wronged?”
“I promise I’ll explain later,” Nat says. “Please follow me.”
You relent and follow her. There’s no reason for you to trust her but somehow you do. It doesn’t take long to get to the compound once Nat hot wires a car.
“Y/n?” A girl asks when you are inside. You look at her despondently and she frowns. Natasha gives he’s her a look.
You follow Natasha to what seems to be a laboratory. There’s a large screen on the wall.
“Ah welcome,” a man says. You recognize him as Iron Man. “You’re just in time.”
“For?” You ask.
“The truth,” another man answers. You’re pretty sure he’s Captain America.
Before you can speak again, photos of you litter the screen. There are some of just you and some of you and the other Avengers.
“What the hell?” You wonder aloud.
“Y/n, we wanted you to remember on your own but it’s taking too long,” Tony Stark explains. “Natasha tried to jog your memory just by being in your presence, but that didn’t work.”
“So I do know you?” You ask the woman.
“You know all of us, y/n. You’re an Avenger.”
“But I’m- no. I’m a waitress,” you say. Your head feels like it’s spinning.
“That’s what they made you think, but you’re not. You’re a special agent,” Steve says. “And one of the best.”
“I don’t believe you. This is all a joke, right?”
“It’s not a joke, y/n. Why do you think we knew those people were after you? Or that I knew about the floor in your house?” Natasha asks.
“That’s easy. You’ve been spying on me.”
“No,” she says simply.
“Then how?” No response. “This is just insane. I’m leaving.”
You start to walk away. You hear Natasha’s footsteps behind you.
“Natasha,” a warning voice comes from Tony. “Don’t.”
“You know what, you go ahead. Take a car of ours, y/n,” she says.
She holds up a pair of keys. You reach for them, but instead of giving them to you she throws a punch your way.
You surprisingly dodge it with ease. Natasha smirks at the way you look at your arms in confusion.
“How did I do that?”
“Come on, throw one,” she taunts you.
You do your best to punch her, but of course she dodges it. You spar back and forth until you’ve both had enough.
“Great, now that that’s over. Do you believe us?” Tony asks.
“I’m not sure,” you say. “How could I not know I’m an agent?”
“Brainwashing,” Natasha answers. “Very effective brainwashing.”
“But why?”
“Because you were going to uncover a huge invasion of Hydra in the government,” Steve explains. “We still can’t find the data that you had before they took it from you and erased all of your memories.”
“So the memory loss, that was a real feeling I was having?”
“It was,” Nat says. “The reason why wasn’t a car accident as they told you though. They captured you and essentially knocked you senseless.”
You rub your hands over your face as you try to take all of this in. Just a few hours ago you thought you knew who you were, but they’re telling you something completely different.
“We wanted you to remember on your own, so it might not be so overwhelming,” Nat says.
“So, we’re all what? Coworkers? Friends? I don’t remember any of you, or anything you’re describing,” you say.
“We’re friends,” Steve says. “You’re friends with all of us and with Nat-“
“Steve,” Nat interrupts. “She doesn’t need to hear that right now.”
“I don’t need to hear what?”
There are shouts down the hallway that interrupt your conversation. Tony suits up and Steve grabs his shield.
“Get her to safety,” he tells Nat.
She grabs your hand and takes you down the hallway to a door and down a ton of stairs. Nat locks a door behind her once you’ve reached the lowest level.
“They’ll handle them,” Nat says. “But the further you are from the fight the better.”
“What was Steve going to say?”
“Hm?”
“About you and me,” you prompt her.
Natasha tears her eyes from yours much the same way she did when you questioned if you knew her earlier.
“Natasha, please just tell me. Clearly, everything I thought I knew was a lie. What’s one more thing?”
“Okay,” she agrees. “We were- you and I were together.”
“Together?”
She nods.
“Define together. Like dating?”
“Kind of yeah,” she says. You look at her for more details. The silence prompts her to continue. “We were married. We are technically married.”
“Oh,” you say.
“Yeah. I didn’t think you were ready to learn that,” Nat says.
“So that’s why you knew your way around my place?”
“Our place,” she says. “But they moved all of my stuff out before you went back there.”
“Natasha, I don’t- I can’t remember anything,” you say.
“I know,” Nat says sadly. “We kept our distance once we realized what they did to you, but we’ve never stopped making sure you were safe.”
You hear the sound of the fight getting closer. Natasha reaches for your hand. She places a loaded gun in your palm.
“I want to remember.”
“You will,” Nat says. “But right now, you’ve got to fight.”
To be continued…
487 notes · View notes
molten-m122 · 9 days
Text
sex tape? - l.n
Warnings: Smut, 18+, Fingering, Sex Tape, S e x
Pairing: Lando Norris x photographer!fem!reader
Summary: Lando wants some interesting angles.
You were the McLaren photographer, your job was simple - take photos, edit them and publish them onto social media. Easy. Well, it was supposed to be, at least. And you hardly expected Lando Norrs to be the one to complicate the situation. 
“Y/N,” a voice called your name, making you turn your head, “get a load of this angle,”. Your Y/H/C hair was tied out of your face with with a claw clip, a McLaren polo hanging on your body along with a greyish black skirt that finished at your mid thigh and white trainers. Just as you turned to walk towards one of your colleagues, your body collided with another. Lando’s arm immediately snaked around your waist asi RHE knew too were going to fall, almost as of he had purposefully pushed you. “Careful,” he said, a smirk on his face as he said your name. Your cheeks filled with red; things like these had been happening a lot, but surely it was all just an and accident, no? What would Lando Norris, multimillionaire and world-class Formula One driver, want anything to do with you? 
Shaking the thoughts from your head, you mumbled a quick thank you as you walked away. Kneeling down at the front wing of the car, the Spanish hot sun on your neck, you positioned the lens of your camera so it appeared that the sun was resting on the halo of the car. “Nice angle,” Lando’s voice appeared again, making you look up. He wasn’t look in at the camera, though. His hazel-green eyes were fixed on you, the curve of your waist and the way your skirt clung to your bare thighs. You stood up quickly, he probably accidentally looked. “Render those images, Y/L/N,” Zak said hurriedly as he rushed past you to talk to Lando. You nodded with a murmur of ‘yes sir’ as you headed off. Not before you heard Lando’s voice, saying, “You really should be nicer to Y/N,”. Lando knew your name?
Maybe it was someone else? No. Of course not. There was no other Y/N. Truth was, Lando loved your name. He loved the way it rolled off of his tongue, and, as much as he knew it was wrong, he couldn’t help but think about the way he could whisper your name along with countless dirty things into your ear as he fucked you. You sat at your desk, the sun setting slowly as many employees went home. You didn’t mind working overnight, there was something about the atmosphere in the garage that was just so peaceful. Poeple continued to leave until it was only you and two others there. They both were PR and went to their respective rooms in the garage to work, leaving you alone at a desk. “Hello Y/N,” a voice said behind you, making you jump slightly, spilling a drop of coffee onto your lap. 
“Lando, hi,” you said, wiping it from your torso with an embarrassed look. “I didn’t know you’d be here so late,” you said awkwardly, rubbing the back of your head. “I wanted to see the view,” he said simply, eyes locked on yours. The view of what? You or the damn car? “The car looks good,” you continued, putting your camera down. “It does. Ive seen better things though,” he shrugged airily, shaking his hair out of his face. “What are you doing?” he turned to the computer, finally breaking eye contact. Thank god. “Cleaning up some stuff,” you shrugged, opening the photoshop app and showing it to him. “Nice,” he hummed, leaning forwards. His hand gently rested on your shoulder as he looked, half sliding down as he squinted at the screen. “You have talent, Y/N,” he saidm standing back straight. “Thank you,” you said, truly grateful. It was a lot you hear, coming from someone like Lando.,
He nodded in approval before he untucked the chair next to you and sat down. Shit. He was staying? “Don’t let me stop you,” he said calmly. You tried to block him out of your vision and focus on work, but that man. Fuck, that man drive you crazy. The way his curls rested on his forehead,d legs spread wide, one elbow on the chair as his arm flexed. You made the mistake of looking. You tried to be discreet, maybe get just a look at him. Fuck. “Eyes are here, Y/N,” he smirked, placing his finger under your chin and lifting your face up. You flushed red, you didn’t mean to look, well, down. “You can look if you want,” he shrugged, smirking. “I saw some good shots earlier, I can show you,” he said, breaking the awkward silence. You shrugged, picking up your camera and following him. You didn’t notice how he locked the garage, shutting the rotor and following you. It was just you, him, and the car. “Where?” you said, holding you camera. “Let me show you,” he whispered, walking up behind you. He placed his hands softly on your waist, pushing you forwards as your heart skipped a beat. Fuck was he close. 
“Wait, let me…” he said, spinning you around. You gulped as he continued to walk forwards. The back of your legs hit the side pod, making you fall gently onto it, acting as a sort of chair. “Thanks,” he said, taking the camera as you watched him, slightly confused. With one hand, he lifted your leg onto the car, lifting the device to his eye and snapping the picture. “Perfect,” he muttered adjusting you so you were perched on the end. He continued to put you into various positions, your cheeks fiery red as he continued. “Sexy as ever,” he would say placing you onto your hands and knees against the car. For each one, they got more intimate, his hand u buttoning various parts of your outfit til the shirt was removed entirely. “I have a better idea,” he said, putting the camera down. Unbuckling his belt, he revealed his cock, making you gasp as you looked up at him. “Lando…” you began but he wasn’t listening. “What about this?” he said, pushing it against your stomach. Snap. One picture. Lifting you onto the side pod, he spread your legs out, removing your underwear. “Good girl,” he muttered, placing kisses onto your neck and temple ad you watched him. 
Slowly, he slid two of his fingers into you, making you gasp at the feeling. He lifting your skirt, not enough to see your pussy, but to leave the rest to the imagination go the viewer, his fingers very much inside of you. Snap. Another picture. Removing his digits, he lining his cock up against your thigh. Snap. Inside of you. Snap. Your cheeks red. Snap. His hand on your thigh. Snap. “Make it video,” he said, as you pushed a button eagerly. Beep. Recording. He gently started rocking forwards as you mooned, his lips against yours as he held the camera against his stomach. “Feel good?” she cooed. “Y-yeah,” you whimpered, speaking for the first time in ages. He started moving quicker, extracting more whines and mow sad from you, only which made him smirk more. 
“Fuck,” you said, his cheek red as your stomach tightened. “Lando…” you muttered. Beep. He ended the video. “Hmm” He hummed, trying to remain composed. “Oh fuck,” you moaned as the knot unravelled, his following soon after as the cum seeped out of your pussy and onto the car. Snap. Photo. “Lando, you in there? We’re locking up,” a voice called from the door. And trust me, there were a LOT of questions when you accidentally opened the photo of Lando’s dick inside of you instead of the car shots. 
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munsonhoneybaby · 8 months
Text
Sweet Leaf | Eddie Munson X F!Henderson!Reader
Summary: Finally starting to spend time with Eddie outside of your bedroom, everybody seems to know about the two of you but Dustin. 
Word Count: 10.3k
Warnings: 18+ mdni, eddie’s never-ending pet names, frequent drug use (marijuana), smut, lots of high sex in the whole series idk what to tell you lol, tiny bit of dry humping, eddie’s fishnet fetish?, skinny dipping, fingering, p in v (unprotected but he pulls out), sex in an empty parking lot, squirting, pretty heavy subspace, not angst but crying after sex, eddie’s a little fucknasty sometimes but he worships his lady, cheesy ahh ending
A/N: just two emotionally damaged stoners trying to figure out how to love each other, what more can i say? the length of this one just kept getting away from me lol i’ve loved writing this series and even though the main storyline is over i’d love to keep writing about these two if anybody sends in blurb/headcanon requests or anything like that !! i had plenty of little ideas i had to leave out !!
part one | part two
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Eddie paused in the mirror, fixing the hair laying on his forehead. He fidgeted with his shirt, trying to get it to sit right on his shoulders– it was an old Kill ‘Em All t-shirt he’d cut the sleeves off of ages ago. He huffed and did one more frantic scan of his bedroom, hands fluttering uselessly at his sides as he was sure there had to be something he’d missed. Bed made, laundry done, and messes cleared away, his room looked cleaner than he’d seen it in probably two years. Deciding it wasn’t gonna get any cleaner in the next fifteen minutes, he dashed down the short hallway to double-check that the living room was spotless.
He’d draped the nicest blanket they had over the back of the couch and even specifically bought a few candles to light around the room just for the occasion. A few pre-rolled joints sat out on the coffee table alongside the selection of horror movies that Steve definitely didn’t let him sneak out of Family Video for free; he wanted to give you options, so he settled on The Thing, A Nightmare on Elm Street, The Shining, and The Evil Dead. He would have happily taken you to see a movie, maybe even a drive-in, but you’d said you’d rather it be just the two of you.
Three knocks sounded at the door, making him jump. You were four minutes earlier than he expected. Stepping to the door, he glanced around the room again and blew out a heavy breath before he opened it.
And there you were. Black shorts peeking out under your baggy Dio tee and a bag of snacks in hand from the gas station a couple miles off, you smiled at him. “Hi.”
Eddie couldn’t help his cheesy grin as he replied, “Hey.” Something about you was so enrapturing to him. He could have just stared at you, standing in the afternoon sunlight shining on his doorstep, forever.
“You gonna let me in?”
“Oh! Uh– right.” He moved aside, opening the door wider. “It’s not exactly the Ritz, but uh–”
“Oh, knock it off. I don’t care about that shit.” You looked around, taking in the collection of hats and mugs lining the walls. The warm light outside made the closed mismatched curtains glow. “I think it’s perfect.”
He cleared his throat to overcome the warmth in his chest before he spoke. “I got a few different movies if you wanna pick.”
“Ooh, can we watch The Shining? It’s been a little while since I’ve seen it, it’s one of my favorites.”
“Sure thing,” He nodded. As he turned on the TV and put the tape in the VHS player, you found a seat on the couch and grabbed a joint off the table to light up. While you seemed totally at ease in his trailer, he was as nervous as the first time he met you. First date jitters, he supposed. You looked so comfortable curled up and smoking in the corner of his couch that, as he settled at the opposite end, he couldn’t help but feel like you belonged there.
Your legs stretched into his lap as you scooted down a bit to pass him the joint. He rubbed his free hand back and forth along your calf absentmindedly. “I don’t know how long you were planning on staying– if you wanna stick around after this movie, I could make a frozen pizza and we could watch another or something.”
“Sounds good to me,” You hummed in return.
Forty-five minutes into the movie, the first joint was gone and Eddie was focused intently on the television screen. You started to get fidgety though, foot nudging against his thigh. “What’d you sit so far away for?”
“I dunno, just thought I’d give you your space I guess? I didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable or anything.”
“C’mere.” Pinching at his shirt, you tugged until he scooted himself to you. Your legs lay completely over his lap as you rested your head against his shoulder. “I don’t need space, I came here to be with you. It’s cute you’re taking this whole ‘first date’ thing so seriously, though.”
His cheeks flushed a little pink and he fiddled with his rings over your lap. “Sorry, I just– I want this to go well.” He laughed nervously as he continued, “I want to keep seeing you outside your bedroom, y’know? I want you to come to my shows, and I wanna take you to the diner, and I wanna kiss you goodbye after Hellfire sessions.”
You gave him a little smile, turning his face toward you to plant a soft kiss on his lips. “I wanna do that stuff too, Eds. You know that you mean something to me, right? I just wanna go slow in the Dustin department. He has to be okay with this.”
“Okay,” Eddie nodded instantly, “However you wanna go about it. I swear, I’ll even ask the little loudmouth for his blessing when you want me to. I mean, I love that kid too.”
For a split second you just took in his features, and those big, earnest eyes were impossible not to believe. The material of his shirt scrunched between your fingers as you drew his lips to yours again. “Thank you for being there for him. And for me. You don’t know how much it means.”
He brushed a strand of hair back from your face with a little smile. “I think I do, sweetheart.”
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“Hey, so where’s your sister?” Mike asked, shoveling a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “She’s like…always home.”
“I don’t know,” Dustin frowned, “I guess she just told Mom she was going out. Maybe I should call Robin and ask if she’s with her.”
“Dude, she’s an adult,” Lucas shook his head slightly. “She probably doesn’t need you to check in on her, I’m sure she’s fine.”
“But what if she isn’t?” As he continued, he paced the length of the basement, hands gesturing wildly with his words. “And what is she doing? ‘Going out’? What does that mean? Why is she trying to hide where she’s going? What if it’s somewhere sketchy?”
“You need to calm down,” Mike insisted. “It really isn’t that serious, she’s probably with Robin and Steve or something.”
“Right, so I should just call Robin and make sure!”
Lucas still rolled his eyes, but Dustin was already dashing up the stairs to the phone. “Great, now he’s gonna lose it if she’s not with Robin.”
“Where else would she be?”
“Literally anywhere, man. She could be at the record store, or with Nancy, or maybe with...”
“You don’t think she could be with Eddie–” But Mike was cut off by footsteps thundering down the stairs.
“She’s not with Robin, Steve, or Nancy which means I’m out of people to call which means I’m officially concerned. Do you think we should go out and start checking places? I mean, what if she smoked like– like– bad weed or something? I don’t know how that stuff works! Why wouldn’t she tell me where she’s going? She should know I’m worried sick!”
“Oh my god, would you relax? Did you talk to your mom?”
“Well, of course she thinks everything’s fine! She trusts us both implicitly when she obviously shouldn’t!”
Mike pinched the bridge of his nose and blew out a breath before he looked at him. “I seriously think you’re overreacting. Like Lucas said, she’s an adult; she doesn’t have to tell you everything. She’s allowed to have a life.”
Having returned to his pacing, Dustin halted and looked at him with an offended expression. “Are you trying to say I’m clingy? I’m not clingy!”
“I’m not saying you’re clingy! I’m just saying that you do your own shit, she probably does her own shit too. Maybe she’s taking time to herself or maybe she’s out with a guy or something.”
“There’s no way she’s out with a guy. She would tell me if there was a guy! And where would she even meet a guy? Work? She barely talks to anyone, you guys know that!” Mike and Lucas shared a glance before looking in different directions.
“Look, if she’s not home in an hour we’ll go check a couple places, alright?” Lucas finally sighed.
“An hour? It’s already a quarter after nine!” Then they heard the front door close and Dustin was racing back up the stairs. There you stood, kicking off your shoes beside everyone else’s, a smile on your face that you were trying to bite back. Until your brother and his friends burst out of the basement. “And where on Earth have you been?”
You looked at him questioningly. “Enjoying my day off?”
“By yourself? Until nine-thirty at night?” He placed his hands on his hips, scanning you with a scrutinizing gaze. “What were you doing?”
“What’s with the third degree? I stopped at the bookstore, then I went out in the woods and read for a while. Is that okay, Mom?”
“Don’t condescend to me, you had me worried half to death!”
As you replied, you ruffled his hair. “Aw, well that’s very sweet, Dusty. I’m fine though, you don’t need to wait up for me.”
“See? We told you there was nothing to worry about,” Mike chimed. When he and Lucas gave each other another pointed look, however, he knew they’d both seen the faint hickey peeking out from your shirt collar that Dustin had apparently missed.
“Goodnight, boys. I’ll make you guys some breakfast in the morning, alright?” They all called back their own goodnights as you headed down the hallway to your bedroom and they made their way back into the basement.
Later that night you were dozing off, still dressed and on top of the blankets, when you jolted back to full consciousness at the sound of the phone ringing in the living room. Grumbling a little under your breath, you rubbed your eyes.
You were halfway down the hall when you heard the basement door creak open, and suddenly you were wide awake. At half past midnight, there was no way anyone other than Eddie was calling and there was definitely no way Dustin could answer that call. Increasing your pace to a slightly-panicked speedwalk until you were in the room with him, you just barely made it to the phone before him. You pressed the receiver into your chest to muffle your voice as you practically whispered, “Don’t worry about it, Dusty, it’s for me.”
“Who is it?”
“Nancy, she wanted to talk about what I got from the bookstore but she was busy with Robin and Steve,” You answered easily. He nodded and yawned out another goodnight before booking it back downstairs. Letting out a relieved exhale, you finally raised the phone to your ear. “Sorry, Dustin almost picked up. Everything okay?”
“Shit, I’m sorry, baby. Everything’s fine. I tried not to call, I swear I did, but–” He laughed a little embarrassedly, “Fuck, when can I see you again?”
“Eddie,” You whispered through a little giggle. “You had to call about that now?”
“I mean, I could always come over so we could talk about it in person instead,” He teased.
“I just left your place three hours ago.”
“Should’a just stayed the night, babe,” He sighed regretfully.
Clutching at non-existent pearls, you replied, “Stay the night? On the first date? Eddie Munson, what kind of girl do you take me for?”
“Of course, sweet thing, you’re right. You could never do anything so scandalous as sharing a bed with me before we’re really goin’ steady.” You could picture that smirk on his face as he spoke. “Guess that means we’ve gotta plan a second date, huh?”
“Guess so,” You hummed. “Have anything in mind?”
“Well, I was thinking,” He began slowly. “Maybe you could come to one of our shows? I know that’s not a super great date idea since I’m gonna be on stage pretty much the whole time and everything, but–”
“No, that sounds great,” You interrupted. “When’re you guys playing next?”
“Friday night at eight.”
“Alright, I’ll see you at The Hideout on Friday then.”
“Alright,” He cooed back playfully. “G’night, baby.”
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Standing in front of your open closet, you rustled through all your clothes in indecision. “I don’t know what I should wear.” Nancy, Robin, and Steve sat side by side by side on the edge of your bed, peering into the closet from behind you. The latter opened his mouth to share an opinion but held his tongue as your younger brother leaned in your door.
“What’re you doing?”
“Uh– just trying to find something to wear, I’m going out later.” You shrugged off his question and continued shuffling through your hanging shirts.
“Again with this ‘going out’ stuff! With who?”
“Us,” Nancy interjected casually.
“Thought we’d go check out Eddie’s show at The Hideout tonight,” Steve added. “Show him some support since it’s usually just the drunks there.”
Dustin eyed you for a split second but seemed to move on from whatever suspicion he had toward you quickly. “Cool, I’ll let Mike and Lucas know. We were gonna hang at Mike’s, but we can all go to the show together instead.”
“You can’t come, Dusty. That’s not a kid-friendly environment,” You told him apologetically.
“What? Come on! We’re not kids, we’re in high school! We wanna see Eddie perform too, he’s our friend!”
“Oh, so now he’s just your guys’ friend,” Steve chimed. “Before, you were practically begging us to get along.” He stood and crossed the room to ruffle Dustin’s curls. “Seriously, dude, your sister’s right. This place is nothing but adults drinking, I doubt they’d even let you stay if you came in with us.”
“See? Your mother says no,” You confirm. “Sorry, Dustin, really. Maybe we could all do something together as a big group though soon, yeah? All of us and the Hellfire club. We could sit in on a session or take you all to the movies or something, okay?”
He paused, fidgeting with one of the buttons on his undone, patterned overshirt. “That’d actually be pretty cool. You’d do that?”
“Yeah, kid, it’s no problem.” You walked over to give him a side hug before nudging him out the door. “Now beat it, I’ve gotta get ready.” It took another minute or two of brainstorming before you decided to snag Dustin’s Hellfire t-shirt from his laundry basket– thank God you had just done his laundry for him. You thought it’d be the best fan attire since Corroded Coffin wasn’t exactly selling merchandise.
Once you were ready to go, Robin called shotgun as the four of you piled into Steve’s car. “Sorry that you guys have to tag along now, but you know how Dustin gets.”
Glancing at you briefly in the rearview mirror, Steve replied, “It’s no big deal. Sorry I told him you were going to see Eddie.”
“It’s fine,” You shook your head. “I wanna lie to him as little as possible anyway, I just haven’t figured out how to bring it up yet.”
“I know he wants you to, but you don’t always have to tell him everything right away,” Robin reminded you. “I mean, what were you gonna tell him– that you were fucking one of his best friends? He doesn’t need to know that. It’s not like you guys are actually together yet–” She was interrupted by a punch in the shoulder from Steve.
He gave her an incredulous look before Nancy took over, reaching over and squeezing your hand. “What she means is, you guys should take your relationship at your own pace and tell Dustin when you think the time is right.”
“Right, that’s exactly what I was gonna say,” Steve added.
Robin rolled her eyes. “Oh, shut the fuck up, Harrington.”
“What? I was!”
When you were finally standing in the parking lot of The Hideout, you let out a deep breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. Robin hooked an arm around your shoulders and started for the door. “Come on,” She drawled. “Let’s catch ‘em before the show starts, you’ll be okay.”
They weren’t hard to find, setting up on stage front and center. You could see Eddie kneeling down to plug in the amp until Gareth lightly hit his arm and pointed in your direction. A grin stretched across his face as his stare dragged over your frame, taking in your fishnets, short skirt, and Hellfire tee. He excused himself to the rest of the guys before jogging over to you. “Hey, I didn’t realize you guys were coming along.”
“Yeah, I’m really sorry I didn’t give you a heads-up. Dustin found out where I was going and I didn’t want him to get nosy–”
“Are you kidding? This is the most sober people we’ve ever had in an audience, don’t sweat it.” He briefly squeezed your waist then let his hand settle on your back, fingers drumming impatiently. You looked at him questioningly, but he didn’t meet your eyes just yet. “I appreciate you guys coming, I know it’s not really your kinda music.”
Steve waved him off. “Nah, man, I’m sure it’ll be great.”
“Thanks, Harrington.” His arm moved from your waist to your shoulders, “I’m gonna steal her from you guys for a couple minutes if you don’t mind. I wanted to show her some of the equipment.” Robin opened her mouth to make a smart remark but was stopped by another punch from Steve.
He guided you to a nook behind one of the walls in the far corner of the bar. Humming lowly, he cupped your face so you’d look at him. “You really dressed for the occasion, pretty girl. You look fucking incredible.”
“Well, I haven’t gotten my exclusive Corroded Coffin t-shirt yet, so I figured this was the next best thing.”
“My apologies, babe, I’ll get right on that.” He dipped his head to press a long, slow kiss to your lips.
“Somebody smoked a joint without me,” You teased.
With a good-natured smile, he rolled his eyes in false exasperation. “Sorry, should’a gotten here earlier. We can smoke all you want after, alright? Pothead.”
“What’s that thing people say?” You asked sarcastically. “I think it was something about a pot, maybe a kettle?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” He laughed. A whistle from Gareth called his attention to the stage and he exhaled heavily. “Okay, that’s my cue. Wish me luck?”
“Like you need it,” You pecked his lips. “I’m really excited to hear you play. You guys are gonna do great.” Eddie smiled and stole one last quick kiss before darting back to the stage, leaving you to make your way back to the others.
“We may have taken the liberty of getting you a drink,” Steve said as Robin pushed a glass across the table toward you.
“I would be offended if you hadn’t.” Taking a few swigs, you looked over to where Eddie was finally settling the mic into its stand, his guitar hanging from his shoulder. They didn’t bother with grand introductions given the small crowds that gathered weren’t exactly there to see Corroded Coffin; they simply started into their set.
The boys mostly stuck to covers of semi-popular songs– sticking to their roots with Metallica and Black Sabbath, but appeasing the bar patrons with some Led Zepplin and a grudging Bon Jovi song. A few pieces they’d weaved in were their own and you could tell, but they certainly weren’t out of place. You could see where their inspiration came from.
You caught up with Nancy, Robin, and Steve between songs, but they mostly carried the conversation as you watched Eddie. Anyone really paying attention would be able to see that he was in his element. Sweat matted his bangs to his forehead, fingers moving masterfully over the strings as he powered through Trapped Under Ice with incredible accuracy. While you had heard the dramatic voices he put on during Hellfire, you hadn’t known that he could also mimic James Hetfield and Ozzy very impressively. He wasn’t perfect, but what little he lacked in refinement and precision, he more than made up for with passion. 
The middle-aged drunks occasionally gave some muted applause for the songs they recognized, but otherwise ignored the free entertainment. He really was underappreciated here. In front of a real audience, you couldn’t imagine the kind of stage presence he’d have.
Over the next two hours, you worked your way through a couple drinks. You hoped the frequent crossing of your legs could be attributed to the short skirt you were wearing rather than your dwindling patience and self-control as you waited for Eddie to finish his set. When they finally wrapped up their last song, you made your way up to the stage. He was lowering the mic stand when you got to him, holding his gaze as you dropped a twenty in the guitar case in front of him. There were only a few other bills and some loose change inside.
“God, please don’t. Seriously, that’s insulting.”
“Are you kidding? That’s an investment. I expect it back with interest when you guys make it big.” He held a hand out to you as you joined him on the stage. “Really, I thought you were amazing. You’ll see when you get outta this place.”
He just gave you a small smile and brushed his thumb over your cheek, eyes sweeping over your face briefly before he took both your hands. “So I really do wanna hang with you, babe, but I absolutely have to move all our gear first. Is there any way I can convince you to stick around?” His lips dragged over your knuckles, leaving a few kisses as he spoke. “Have a li’l smoke sesh in the back of the van once it’s empty. Promise I’ll make it worth your while.”
Your chest warmed at the attention he was lavishing you with in front of all of his friends– Dustin’s friends– and you tucked your chin a little bashfully. “That’s fine, Eds.”
“Awesome. We’re gonna finish loading the van, then you can ride with me to Gare’s to unload everything there, then I’m all yours. Cool?”
“Sounds good to me, rockstar.”
Holding your face in one hand, he squished your cheeks and shook your head back and forth lightly. “Always makin’ fun ‘a me, aren’t you?” He landed a kiss on your puckered lips and subtly patted your butt. “Go sit with your friends and I’ll let you know when I’m finished, okay? So glad I had my best girl cheerin’ me on tonight.”
As he went back to helping the guys pack up, you went back to Robin, Nancy, and Steve who paused their conversation when you sat down.
“Swooning already?”
“Somebody’s definitely looking a little starstruck,” Robin added. “Ready to ask him to sign your boobs?”
“The way it’s sounding, he might later,” You replied before taking a sip of your drink.
“I’m proud of you,” She nodded and took your hands dramatically over the table. “At least one of us is leading a successful love life. We will live vicariously through you.”
“Well then, let me know when we figure out how to tell our little brother that we’re dating his male mentor.”
“Wait, did Dustin say Eddie was his male mentor?” Steve interjected. “That’s so not true–”
Robin shook her head. “Steve, shut up.” She smacked your hand and nodded behind you just before you felt hands settle on your chair.
“Hey, you guys enjoy the show?” Eddie’s rings clinked against the metal of the chair, his voice not far from your ear making your heart rate pick up.
“Yeah, you guys were great. We’ll have to come again sometime,” Steve replied.
Nancy politely asked, “How long have you been playing, Eddie? Some of those songs seemed pretty complex.”
“I started playing with the guys when I was in eighth grade, but I started teaching myself around sixth. So, I guess about…nine or ten years?” He shrugged, thumbs drumming against the chair.
“You’re really talented,” She commended.
“Thank you, that means a lot to me.” His hand shifted to your shoulder before he continued on playfully, “Your guys’ friend here gets a backstage pass though, which means she gets to come watch us unload equipment at Gareth’s mom’s house and smoke my weed.” He took your hand as you stepped down from your high-top chair, pushing it in for you and grabbing your purse as you said goodbye. “Thank you guys again for coming. I’ll see you around soon, yeah?”
Steve gave him a one-armed hug as he nodded, “Definitely, man.”
The two of you walked back to the van, hand in hand, your steps echoing in the mostly-empty parking lot. The others were already waiting in Gareth’s garage passing around a joint when you pulled into the driveway. You followed Eddie around to the back of the van as he opened one of the back doors. Gareth got up to open the other one, handing you the joint as he passed you. 
“Alright, boys, think we can manage our fastest unload yet?” Eddie asked, cracking his knuckles.
“Yeah. As long as you don’t tweak your fuckin’ back again, old ass,” Jeff scoffed in return.
“Seriously, dude. Lift with your legs,” Gareth chimed.
Eddie made a talking motion with his hand and mumbled mockingly back before grabbing one of Gareth’s drums. “Start moving your shit or I’ll stop discounting your weed.”
“Oh, yes! Forgive me, master!” Gareth snarked, voice quavering with feigned fear.
They all got to work on moving the drum kit out first before moving on to the other equipment. Not knowing what to do with your hands, you took a hit and sat on the edge of one of the chairs they had out. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“I mean, there’s a fridge in the corner, you wanna grab a few beers?” Jeff asked, getting a grasp on one side of an amp.
Gripping the other side of the amp, Eddie gave him an unimpressed look. “Dude, did you seriously just send her on a beer run?”
“It’s literally the other side of the garage. Shut the fuck up and bend your knees.”
You grabbed a beer for everyone– except Eddie, who was stuck with cherry Coke until he was done driving– and passed them out when they were done moving the amps. Then, to kill some of the time, you sat in the van and packed a bowl to smoke with Eddie later. When the equipment left in the back started to dwindle, you, Jeff, and Barry made conversation while Eddie unloaded some of the lighter equipment with Gareth. Keeping his voice low, the drummer suddenly spoke. “You know you have to like– marry her, right?”
“What’re you talking about?” Eddie chuckled, though his face and neck warmed at the mental image.
Gareth jabbed a thumb over his shoulder in your direction. “Dude, she’s over there talking to your nerdy loser bandmates about Judas Priest’s influences on Iron Maiden’s first album. And she’s actually invested. You’re not gonna find another girl like that in Hawkins. Not to mention how you talk about her–”
“Alright, shut it,” He huffed. “Just help me get this shit out, it’s getting late.”
When the last of it was finally tucked away in Gareth’s garage, Eddie checked his watch and sighed. Eleven-thirty. “Damn.” Your conversation with the boys had drifted to your opinions on heavy metal power ballads when his hands settled on your waist. “Sorry that took so long, you ready to get going?”
“Don’t worry about it, Eds. I’ll see you guys later though, alright? We should really head out.” The three of them thanked you for coming and said their goodbyes before settling back into their fold-out chairs, presumably to keep getting fried.
You and Eddie climbed into the van and he started it up before looking over at you. “It’s not the first date anymore. Any chance I can convince you to stay the night?”
“No convincing needed. I didn’t know how late I’d be home so I already asked Nancy to cover for me if Dustin calls.”
“Wait, you really want to?”
“Of course I do. Will Wayne mind me staying there?”
“Oh, he wouldn’t care. He works the night shift and sometimes he works overtime, so he usually isn’t back until six or eight in the morning. And occasionally he’ll even stop for a drink with a couple guys from work and that could take ‘til ten,” He explained with a little crooked smile. “He’d love you, though.”
You noticed him freeze up a little as he registered his own words, so you took one of his hands and laced your fingers through his in your lap. “I’m sure I’d love him, too. He must be a great man if he raised you.”
He squeezed your hand lightly as he relaxed. “Yeah, he’s pretty cool.” There was a moment of quiet, just the low hum of the radio and the roar of the van until Eddie spoke again. “You wouldn’t wanna go to Lover’s Lake, would you?”
“Sure.” His hand settled on your thigh and your lips curled down as you repressed a little smirk. “I didn’t take you for the type.”
“Hey, I can be romantic,” He defended lightheartedly. “I just prefer places like these when they’re less populated.”
“Why? So you can smoke and have sex in them?” You asked with a joking scoff.
“No, I just like my privacy. It’s more intimate without a bunch of obnoxious people around.” He paused, then conceded. “But yes, I like to have a range of recreational activities to choose from. Is that so bad?”
You shifted your leg so his hand drifted further up your thigh. “You wouldn’t happen to be taking me there to do both, would you, Eds?”
“I’m taking you there to do whatever you wanna do, sweet thing.” His tone remained casual, but his hand slowly crept higher and higher. “We could lay down and look at the stars…Maybe go for a swim…” Goosebumps rose on your skin as his short nails dragged across it, fingers catching on the loops of your fishnets. “What d’you think?”
“We didn’t bring swimsuits,” You remind him.
“So?” He asked as he pulled into the small gravel lot hidden by the trees. Looking over at you with a smirk, he continued, “There’s no one else here.” He got out of the van and came around to open your door as you unbuckled your seatbelt. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to, though.”
After grabbing a couple of blankets from the back of the van, he took your hand and lead you out away from the trees. You helped him lay out the blankets, crawling onto them and kicking off your shoes. Eddie lay down beside you and you looked over at him, “I don’t think I’ve ever actually been out here at night. It’s really pretty.”
“Can’t believe you think so when you get to look in the mirror every day,” He shot back without effort, giving you that goofy grin of his.
Lightly smacking his arm, you fought back a big smile of your own. “That was terrible, you know that, right? That was actually so bad.” Your combined laughter sounded loud in the near-silent clearing of the lake; your voices were only accompanied by the constant chirping of crickets and the occasional owl’s hoot. 
He rolled onto his side, resting his head in his hand as he looked down at you. “You’ve gotta get used to taking my compliments, babe, even the corny ones. ‘Cause soon they’ll be comin’ non-stop.” You simply hummed in response, your hand finding the back of his neck to pull him into a kiss. He didn’t hesitate to shift over you, arms on either side of you to support himself as his knee braced between your legs. Lips sticky with your lip gloss, his mouth made a path to your neck. “Y’really do look so pretty tonight, baby. Never seen you in a skirt before, I could barely pay attention to our set.”
“I thought you did amazing.” His hot breath on your neck made you squirm, grasping at his shirt as your hips wound against the firmness of his thigh. “Had me wet the whole time.”
“Fuck, wanted to get my hands on you so bad. Just performing had you all soaked for me, huh?” Your skirt rode up toward your waist until Eddie decided it was unnecessary, leaning back to yank it off. “Jesus H. Christ, fucking look at you.” Lying beneath him, fishnets stretched taut over your spread thighs leading up to your Hellfire tee, you were his fucking dream. It wasn’t hard to tell he wasn’t a religious man but, at that moment, he wished he was because he felt like he needed to thank somebody for your existence. It was like every fantasy he’d ever had simply walked out of his head and into his life. “Seriously, I might need to take a minute.”
“Can you help me out of these while you do?” You ask, curling your legs up to your chest.
He guided one of them up to his shoulder, running his hand down your outstretched leg and eyeing the tights before he looked at you. “Am I in trouble if I say no?”
“If you take them off now without ripping them I’ll wear them for you again sometime,” You bargained teasingly.
“I’ll do it if you let me eat you out through them next time.”
You shoved lightly at his chest with your foot, trying not to laugh. “You’re such a freak.”
Eddie narrowed his eyes at you playfully, but you could see he didn’t take the name to heart coming from you as his hips pressed into your ass. “Careful callin’ me names, babe. I’m starting to like it when you’re mean to me.”
“Pervert.”
He hummed, trailing kisses down the inside of your leg and finally hooking his fingers into the waistband of your fishnets. “Only for you, sweetheart.” His short nails scraped gently along your skin again as he carefully drew the tights down your legs. The second they were off, you sat up to pull him into another hungry kiss.
Deepening it, he started to ease you onto your back again but was shocked when you pulled away. With a coy smile, you asked, “How ‘bout that swim?”
Baffled, he was unable to come up with a response before you were standing and whipping your shirt off. His brain kicked back into gear when you dashed away from him toward the lake. Then he was running after you, fumbling to kick off his shoes and strip in the process. He froze as he watched you take off your bra and jump in wearing nothing but a skimpy pair of panties. You’ve gotta be fucking kidding. Finally kicking off his jeans, Eddie dove in after you.
Attempting to wipe the water from your eyes, you looked around for him in the water. Just as he breached the surface behind you, though, he grabbed your waist and shouted. Your squeal broke into a fit of giggles as he squeezed your sides and pulled you into his chest. “You’re such a dick!”
“That’s what you get for bein’ a tease.” Staying close to shore, the water came nearly to his shoulders. He urged you to wrap your legs around his waist, his hands settling under your butt to hold you comfortably.
Arms settling loosely around his neck, you looked away pointedly, that mischievous little expression finding its way to your face again. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Of course, you don’t. ‘Cause the sweet girl I know would never do a thing like that, right?” He asked sarcastically.
You shook your head and answered in a falsely solemn tone. “Never.”
He chuckled softly until you leaned into him, nipples hardened from the chill of the water and pressing into his chest. Faint smiles never left your faces as you shared a few messy kisses. His hand rubbed soothingly up and down your spine while you pushed a strand of wet hair from his face. Swept off his shoulders, his soaked hair allowed you to see his whole face more clearly than ever. He started to feel self-conscious as your eyes drifted slowly over his features, taking him in, your thumb stroking over a spot beneath his ear that gave him chills. “You’re so handsome, Eddie.” He opened his mouth slightly like he was going to respond, but he couldn’t seem to think of anything so you changed the topic for him. “It’s nice here at night, we should come back again sometime when we don’t have any other plans.”
Eyebrows furrowing, he frowned in confusion. “What do you mean ‘other plans’?”
Untangling yourself from him, you faced him and swam backward toward the dock. “Hotboxing the van and having amazing sex, obviously. C’mon.” Climbing out, you held your arm tight over your chest as you snagged your bra off the dock and ran to the blankets still on the ground.
Eddie was close behind, picking up his trail of abandoned clothing. He started to apologize for the lack of towels, but you quickly waved him off and you both dried off as well as you could with one of the blankets. While you wrapped yourself in the dry blanket, he gathered your things with his to carry it all back to the car. “Go ahead and get in the back, I’ll start it up and get the music going.”
Opening one of the back doors, you found that the floor was already covered with other blankets. Climbing inside, you felt the van rumble to life. You could hear Eddie rustling through cassettes in his console as you peeled off your sopping-wet underwear and curled up with the pillows and blankets he’d put back there. The bowl you’d packed in hand, he finally joined you in the back. When he climbed in he paused to fidget with something you couldn’t see and suddenly the back doors were illuminated by little twinkling lights. He swung the door closed and tugged off his boxers before you asked, “When did you have time to do all this?”
“Hm? Oh, it’s all been back here for a little while. I just laid the blankets out in here when I grabbed the other ones to lay down by the lake.” He settled beside you, the top half of his blanket bunched in his lap leaving you free to ogle his tattoos– a favorite pastime of yours. “You want the first hit?”
You shook your head with a small smile, eyes tracing his features like they had in the lake. His hair was still heavy with water, but his forehead was hidden again and his curls were starting to come back. With nothing but moonlight, his eyes had looked black; in the glow of the fairy lights, you could see their warm cocoa-brown color again. His pretty lips formed an O as smoke billowed out of them. Their blushy-pink color nearly matched the flush on his cheeks, which you knew would spread to his neck and chest soon enough. He was beautiful, really.
He offered you the bowl and it stayed quiet, excepting the Master of Reality album playing softly, while you took a few long rips. You passed it back to him and let the silence continue for a moment before you finally said, “I’m gonna tell Dustin.” Unintentionally hitching in a breath, he choked on a throatful of smoke. The resulting coughing fit was so intense it brought tears to his eyes and you couldn’t help but laugh as you rubbed his back. “Are you okay?” He nodded, but you still leaned over the console to grab the bottle of water from the cup holder. 
Taking a few swigs, he cleared his throat. “Okay, sorry,” He let out a big breath before he looked at you again. “You’re ready to tell him?”
“Yeah.” Too nervous to hold his gaze, you curled into his side. He welcomed you, of course, tucking his blanket around the both of you and kissing the top of your head. “I just feel like things have gotten…real. You try to take care of me in ways no one else has before and everything feels so easy with you– and honestly, both of those things scare the shit out of me ‘cause that usually means everything is absolutely going to go to shit…But you look out for my brother, and I feel like I can trust you, and everything we do together just feels so intimate…” You huffed embarrassedly and buried your face in the crook of his neck. “I think Dustin deserves to know that I care about you so much.”
“That we care about each other,” He corrected you. Hand framing your jaw, Eddie made you meet his eyes. “I’m gonna be there with you when you tell him. I don’t want you to do it alone, we should do it together. I still have to get his blessing, right?” He added jokingly. Before you could say anything, he started to ramble a little nervously. “I feel like this is real. I’ve never felt this way about anybody. I’ve never had the chance to have anything serious before, but you…You’re all I think about now. That first day I met you, it was like I had this ‘Where have you been all my life?’ moment and you’re all I’ve wanted since, and I know that sounds really cheesy and dramatic but–”
Your mouth on his cut him off, which seemed to be a habit you were forming. He didn’t mind though, he’d been told to shut up in much less pleasant ways. When you pulled away, it was only enough to murmur, “I know the feeling.” Your nose nudging his was enough for him to keep it going, hand hooking under your knee and drawing you to straddle his lap.
The blanket slumped to your waist leaving your torso bare for his eyes and hands to wander. “You’re just so fuckin’ beautiful. My pretty girl, right, baby?”
Toying with one of his damp curls, you held his gaze as you agreed, “No one else’s.” At your answer, he pulled you in for a much more desperate kiss. His fingers pressed into your back while the others slipped beneath you to find you soaked, your chest flush with his as his tongue passed your lips. 
He pressed two fingers into you easily, slowly massaging your g-spot until you were whining into his mouth. “Feels like you might not even need me to stretch you out, sweetheart.” Hips canting forward involuntarily, your clit ground into the thick base of his cock. Finally letting you catch your breath, he withdrew his hand from between you and looked down to watch how your slick spread on his skin as he rutted against you. “Mmm, gonna let me show you how bad I need you?”
You brushed his hair back from his shoulders as you breathily replied, “Condom?”
“Wallet,” He answered. Leaning over his shoulder to grab it off the console put you in the perfect position for Eddie to mouth at your tits, lips wrapping around one nipple while the roughened pads of his fingers found the other. You moaned quietly and tugged at his hair, but grabbed the wallet and rifled through it. 
“Eds, there isn’t one in here.”
“Fuck. Glovebox, maybe,” He suggested.
Huffing impatiently, you began to wind your hips against his again. “D’you promise to pull out if I let you fuck me raw?”
He looked up at you with wide eyes. “Really– I mean, are you sure? You don’t have to.”
“Need to feel you now, Eddie,” You insisted.
“Alright, sweetheart, I promise.” He lovingly pecked your lips before grasping your waist, helping keep you steady as you slowly sank down on him. Fully seated in his lap, a gasp rose in your throat. “There you go,” He murmured comfortingly. “I know, baby, but you’re so good. Can finally feel how wet you really are. Takin’ me so deep.”
Your voice was nothing but a high-pitched, airy sigh. “Feel you everywhere.”
“S’Cause I’m made for you.” Your forehead rested against his as he continued. “I was made to fill you up, pretty girl.” His words provoked a pathetic moan from you, spurring you to lift your hips fractionally just to ease back down again. Supporting yourself with your hands on his shoulders, you tried to start up a steady pace, but your thighs trembled with every motion. The moans and whimpers you let out started to sound quiet and watery and it worried him, but the determined rocking of your hips never ceased. “You doing okay, baby?”
Not lifting your head, you sniffed frustratedly. “Need help, Eddie.”
“Oh, baby, why didn’t you say so?” He cooed sympathetically. “S’okay to need my help, c’mere.”
Arms around your waist, he guided you up and down on his cock at a careful speed until you were grinding down on him again. “Eds please, I need more,” You whimpered. Rolling his hips to meet yours, he didn’t hesitate to tighten his arms around you and quicken his pace. The way he was hitting every possible spot inside you had your eyes squeezing shut to keep them from crossing. Thighs trembling, you shivered as he rubbed and squeezed at them.
Eddie’s shoulders rolled back as he leaned against the console, hands running slowly over your hips and across your stomach to palm at your tits. “Look so pretty on top’a me, sweet girl. Might have to make you ride me more often.” His thrusts into you sped up, the console against his back giving him more leverage. One of your hands rested lightly on his lower abdomen to steady yourself but once his thumb found your clit, you were practically writhing in his lap. He rubbed it in firm, precise circles and felt you squeeze around his cock uncontrollably. “That’s it, baby, come for me. Can’t wait to feel you soak me for the first time.”
Something felt different than usual as that coil wound tighter in your stomach. It was hotter, like flames were crawling across your skin. It felt like your bones shook and your eyes swam with stars as you cried out his name. Your nails dragged down his stomach, those of the other hand doing the same to his thigh, trying to anchor yourself with your head in the clouds.
It wasn’t until the ringing in your ears cleared that you heard Eddie’s feral groans, making you look down. Everything was drenched; your thighs, his cock, his stomach, and his chest glistened wet in the warm lights. The sight made you register the sloshing sounds of your dripping wet pussy as he started to slow his thrusts enough to pull out. Arms enclosing around your waist again, he all but pinned you to his chest as he rutted between your stomachs. Lips molding to yours, he kissed you sloppily before his gaze wandered your body in awe. “Can’t believe you fuckin’ squirted f’me. Fuck–” Cut off by his own moan, his forehead fell to your shoulder as his eyes squeezed shut, his hot spend painting both your skin and his. 
After he pressed a sweet kiss to your temple, he eased you onto your back, watching the filthy mixture of your come drip down your used cunt. “Eds, what’re you doin’?” You asked timidly as he lowered himself between your thighs, voice coming out in a barely-there squeak.
“Wishin’ I could take a fucking picture, sweetheart. I was gonna clean you up. Want me to use the blanket instead? S’okay if you’re too sensitive, especially after all that.” You nodded and he kissed the side of your knee with a smile as he grabbed the soiled blanket and quickly wiped himself off. Your legs flinched as he patted you dry and his eyes filled with concern as he murmured your name. “Did I hurt you? Did I do too much?”
“No,” You struggled to raise your voice above a mumble. “I’m okay, Eds, I’m jus’ all sensitive.”
“Promise me that’s it?” He asked, running his hands comfortingly over your legs. Pointedly avoiding his gaze, you huffed through your nose and your eyes brimmed with tears. “Baby, c’mon, what is it? What’s the matter?”
You answered him in a whimper, sniffing back tears every few words. “I jus’ made a mess ‘n I’ve never done that before ‘n now everything’s all yucky–”
“Aw, baby,” He chuckled through a sympathetic pout. Lying down and drawing you to his chest, he wiped your tears and kissed your forehead. The two of you curled up under one of the clean blankets. “Nothing’s yucky, sweet girl. Just gotta wash the blankie, no big deal.”
“But ‘m still all sticky,” You pout up at him. “C’n we take a bath when we get home?”
“Home?”
“Your trailer, Eddie,” You whine. “Wanna take a bath.” Lids heavy with exhaustion, your eyes slowly fluttered closed repeatedly before they’d snap open again.
“You’re so sleepy, sweet girl.” He brushed your hair back from your face. “Think you can take a little nap back here while I drive us home?” You nodded dreamily but still clutched at him whenever he tried to get up. “I know, baby, just twenty minutes and we can take a bath. Okay?” When you finally conceded, he tugged on his jeans and made the short drive home. 
Once you were bathed and dressed in nothing but a borrowed Metallica t-shirt, he tucked you into his bed before crawling in beside you. You dozed off easily with your head on his chest, but he stayed up just a little while longer. Palm rubbing circles on your back, his lips ghosted over your forehead. “I love you, baby,” He whispered almost silently. Closing his eyes, he focused on the feeling of your heart beating against his side, counting them like a child would sheep until he fell asleep.
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The next morning, you woke up first, Eddie’s arms around you and his chest molded to your back. You scoffed and rolled your eyes but you couldn’t help your tiny smirk as you registered the feeling of him squeezing at your tit, his even, heavy breaths against your shoulder telling you he was fast asleep. Slowly rocking your hips back, you bit back a laugh when it made his grasp tighten while he nuzzled into your neck. He rutted against you, half-hearted and arrhythmic in his unconscious state. It wasn’t until you reached back to hold his hip and grind directly against his cock, separated only by his boxers, that he finally grunted himself awake. “Mmm, g’morning t’you too, gorgeous.”
“You’re a perv even in your sleep, you know that, Munson?”
He mouthed at your neck with a sleepy grin, “I could’a told you that. How’d you know I was dreamin’ about you?”
“Well, your right hand was my first clue.” You pointedly ground your hips into his again and looked back over your shoulder at him, “Wanna guess my second?”
“Can’t help but get ideas, babe. You’re sleepin’ in my bed, in my shirt, no panties…” His fingers walked a path down your stomach, stopping just after your belly button. “Promise I kept my hands to myself, though– while I was awake, anyway.”
His hand drifted leisurely between your legs but you groaned. “Eds, what time is it?”
“I don’t know, almost nine? Why?” His lips never left your skin, still working over your neck and shoulder without leaving obvious marks.
“We can’t, we have to go. Dustin’s at Mike’s and I wanna make sure we get back before him. I’ve still gotta make myself decent and figure out what I’m gonna say to him.”
“What we’re gonna say to him,” He corrected. “And can’t you stay indecent a little longer?”
“Wayne’ll be home anytime,” You remind him, “If he’s not already.”
He pouted, “But how often do we get to have great morning sex after a night together like this, baby?”
“Any morning now that I’ll be staying over whenever you want,” You point out.
“Hmm, I s’pose that’s true,” He agreed contently. Stretching out beside you with a loud groan, he pecked your cheek before he got out of bed. Yawning, “I’ll be right back,” he headed for the bathroom. 
Rolling over, you buried your face in his pillow and breathed in. Old spice shampoo, weed, and Marlboros filled your nose and it made every muscle in your body relax. Him. You wanted to bottle the scent, soak every pillow and blanket and sweatshirt you owned with it. You’d never have another restless night again. Lifting your head slightly, you left your nose against the fabric but allowed your eyes to flicker around his room. 
A bottle of lotion sat on his nightstand, he didn’t seem to bother with tissues though. You weren’t surprised. Handcuffs hung on the wall, also not surprising, but they still made your thighs twitch. There were more band posters than in your room, including a hand-spray-painted one for Corroded Coffin. He had three guitars, his prized possession– his other sweetheart, as well as another black and white electric, and an acoustic painted to say ‘this machine slays dragons’. An amp sat across from the bed and his dressers were strewn with clothes and beer cans. It was easy to imagine him existing in here. Playing guitar in bed in his boxers or planning the party’s next campaign at his desk.
Your eyes snapped to the door when it finally opened again. “Still in bed, huh?” Nodding with a small smile, you watched him rummage through his dresser for today’s band tee. His hand settled on Slayer before he thought of running into your mom, and opted for the much tamer Deep Purple one beneath it. “Well, you should probably put somethin’ else on before I take you home. What you’ve got on might get a little breezy.”
“Bite me,” You yawned, flipping him off as you got up.
“I didn’t think we had time for that,” He replied snarkily. He finished getting dressed as you slipped on your skirt and balled up your fishnets to put in your purse.
When you were both ready– or as ready as you could get for now– you headed for the van. “I’ll make coffee when we get to mine,” You offer. “My mom should be at work, so I’ll make breakfast. Food might help soften the blow.”
“God, you’re acting like we killed his cat or something,” He laughed. “We’re not breaking bad news, babe.”
“It’s still a shock, alright? And Dustin has big feelings, you know that. I just don’t wanna make him feel uncomfortable or lied to. Me and him don’t usually keep secrets, so this is a big deal.”
“I can be tactful, alright? But I’ll let you do most of the talking if that makes you feel better, I know you’re worried about him.” His fingers laced through yours and brought the back of your hand to his lips. “It’s gonna be okay though, sweet girl.”
Pulling into your driveway, you let out a heavy breath before you got out and lead him inside. As you got dressed, you tried to practice what you’d say, rambling your thoughts aloud. He left you to your process, only stepping in for you to bounce thoughts off of or to keep you from getting lost in your concerns. You only paused once you made your way into the kitchen. Putting a pot of coffee on, you asked, “Chocolate chip pancakes okay for breakfast? They’re his favorite. I’ll probably make a little of everything else too; eggs, bacon, sausage, there’s fruit in the fridge.”
Eddie had to bite his tongue to keep the words ‘marry me’ from rolling off his lips. “Sounds incredible, baby. Anything I can do to help?”
“No, it’s okay.” Watching you methodically gather everything you needed from the fridge and cabinets, he figured he’d just get in your way if he tried to lend a hand. While you cooked, you mumbled through your prepared speech again, knowing it would never go so smoothly in actual conversation. Thinking about it more, you just hoped Lucas and Mike didn’t come back with him.
By the time he made it home, leaving his bike in the yard, you had made more than enough food and Eddie had already eaten his. Dustin was talking the second the door was open. “What’re you doing here, Eddie? Something going on with Hellfire?”
“Nice to see you too, Henderson.” He retorted, standing and flicking the bill of your brother’s hat into his eyes. “Your sister made you breakfast. I hear chocolate chip pancakes are your favorite.”
He eyed both of you suspiciously as he started toward the kitchen. "Yeah, what's it to you?" Eddie shared a confused look with you, but decided not to say anything. After he’d made his plate and sat down at the table to dig in, Dustin spoke again with a mouthful of food. “So, what’s with the special breakfast? Why’re you guys being weird?”
“We’re not being weird–”
“You’re alone at the house together,” He pointed out, still shoveling food into his face. “That’s weird.”
“It’s not weird– would you just listen? It’s not a big deal, I just wanted to run something by you, alright?” Eddie could tell you were fumbling, forgetting everything you’d planned to say. His hand itched to reach out for yours on the table, but he knew you wanted to get the words out first. “I’ve been–”
“Seeing Eddie?” Dustin interrupted. When the two of you shared a glance and you opened your mouth to question him, he continued. “Mike and Lucas told me last night.”
“How did they–” Eddie began, but Dustin cut him off.
“Apparently, everybody knew but me! All the guys in the band knew! Steve, Nancy, and Robin knew! How could you leave me out of the loop like this? You know I hate not knowing things! I have to know everything!”
“Dusty, calm down,” You said softly. “I wanted to wait until I actually had something to tell you. He’s your friend, I didn’t want to change the way you look at him just to go on a couple dates and decide it wasn’t gonna work.”
Nose wrinkling, he asked, “So, what? You guys are like– boyfriend and girlfriend now or something?”
You snorted and Eddie couldn’t help the small, smug smile creeping across his face. “Yeah, are we boyfriend and girlfriend?”
Back of your hand hitting his stomach, you tried not to laugh as you answered. “Yeah, I guess we are.” Turning back to your brother, you added, “Only if you’re okay with it, though. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable or feel like you can’t trust Eddie anymore.”
“It’s kinda weird, but I guess I don’t care as long as you don’t make out and all that gross shit in front of me. And you’d better treat her right or me, Mike, and Lucas are all leaving Hellfire,” He tagged on pointedly.
“You don’t have to worry about that, you have my word.” He looked like he was about to say more, but opted to stay quiet.
“Okay, well, I think I’ve lost my appetite for now.” Dustin stood from the table, “I’m gonna go back to Mike’s and tell them they were right.”
Rolling your eyes, you started to clean up. “Be safe, I love you.” 
“Love you, too!” He shouted back just before he yanked the door shut.
As you started rinsing dishes in the sink, Eddie’s hands found your waist. “I think that went well.”
“Hopefully it doesn’t stay awkward for long,” You sighed lightly. “I guess Lucas and Mike did the hard part for us.”
“Guess so,” He drawled in agreement. “So, what now?”
“Now? Hmm…” Drying off your hands, you turned to loosely wrap your arms around his neck. “I guess now we do whatever we want, no more sneaking around.”
“I hope that’s not gonna suck the fun out of it for you.”
“‘Cause watching you Tetris yourself through my window is such a turn-on,” You scoffed.
He gave you a look of mock offendedness. “Good thing I won’t have to do it anymore, since you clearly don’t appreciate the athletic prowess it takes to climb through that window without waking your mom up.” 
Halfheartedly rolling your eyes yet again, you let your fingers dip past the neck of his shirt, fingers grazing along the top of his spine. “How about you roll us a joint and then I’ll show you how much I appreciate your ‘athletic prowess’?”
“You drive a hard bargain, babe,” He sighed theatrically. “But you know it’s an offer I can’t refuse.”
“Obviously,” Lacing your fingers through his, you dragged him toward your room. “That’s why I offered.”
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As the three boys gathered at Mike’s house again, he asked, “Wait, we were right?”
Lucas stood, pointing at him. “I TOLD YOU, MAN!” 
Mike tried to argue, “I NEVER SAID–”
“I TOLD YOU!”
“GUYS, SHUT THE HELL UP!” Dustin interjected.
Lucas cleared his throat as the two of them settled back into their seats. “You’re right, I’m sorry.”
“So, you’re really okay with Eddie dating your sister? I mean, it’s not gonna make Hellfire awkward or anything, is it?” Mike questioned.
“I don’t know, it’s weird. It’ll definitely be nasty seeing them all lovey-dovey or whatever, but they’re still just Eddie and my sister. As long as they don’t act different, I won’t act different.” Turning on the TV, Dustin flopped onto the couch next to Mike. “Besides, I think part of me knew they’d hit it off– I’m like a natural matchmaker. They just have too much in common, ya know?”
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tags: @adequate-superstar @akiratoro420 @bbciwp @trixyvixx @yujyujj @nope-thanks @broccolisoupy @spookybabey @comboboo @thecraziestcrayon @mommybaby-witch @imvirginia17 @therensistance @peacheskiwi @skyfullofsong123 @hcneyedsstuff @aysheashea @prestinalove @ungracefularchimedes @psychospore @bellaisasleep @untoldshortsofthefandoms @ficsaremylife @ohmeg @twirls827 @bellasfavoritesweatpants @sebastiansstanswhore @444aslut444 @ourautumn86 @dream-a-little-nightmare @extrainsanity @poniesandcupcakes @trln @cantreadbutcute @kennedy-brooke @navs-bhat @sluggzillaa @whatwedontdointheshadows @saayanaaa @depressedacidtest @unholyyylita @m-chmcl-rmnc @pullhisteeth @vivalasv3gan @a3trogirl @thesagewitchh @djoseph-quinn @darlingdixon
<3
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pixiemunsons · 2 years
Text
baby, baby, baby (sh)
steve's always discovering new things about himself, usually with your help
breeding kink!!! i can't state enough if this isn't ur thing click off because that's all it is. unprotected sex, p in v (f! reader), fingering, discussion of babies and breeding, hint of jancy, rough-ish sex, bit of misogyny surrounding birth control (reader goes on the pill.) one use of the word daddy during sex but not rly daddy kink. no use of y/n, no spoilers, no reader description. steve’s into cringy pet names i don’t make the rules (2.2k words)
a/n; a really lovely reader made it clear to me that some of my language wasn’t POC or plus size friendly. this absolutely wasn’t my intention and i’ve edited this language out to ensure that this is a fic for anyone, as intended. pls let me know if i do make any mistakes like this - being exclusive is absolutely not something i ever intend to be. thank you angels<3
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it had started growing in him one day, and he hadn’t felt the end of it since.
a sort of weird, deep urge he felt in his bones, gnawing at him from the inside out and churning his brain and boiling his guts. if he hadn’t known better, he might have called it animalistic. neanderthal. his most base instinct. for months, he hadn’t been able to think about anything else. twisting his mind and driving him crazy.
steve harrington wanted to fuck you full of his babies.
you hadn’t even known you were doing it. how could you? you knew he wanted kids, and a lot of them, but it felt miles off in your mind. when he told you about you and the six kiddos and the camper van, you thought he meant five, maybe even ten years off. so you’d thought nothing of it when your friend liz had asked to come over for a coffee with her almost brand-new baby and you’d spent the afternoon playing with her in front of steve. 
he’d seemed a bit more tense than usual, and you thought maybe he was uncomfortable around the baby. you knew he had a relatively small, relatively disconnected family, and the last kid born was more than ten years ago, so he’d never really even been around infants. he seemed to be watching intently as you picked her up, smoothing her tufts of hair back and nuzzling your nose into her hair to absorb her uniquely baby smell. you’d never brought it up though, never thinking much of it. until it started happening more.
you’d see a toddler sticking their tongue out at the grocery store and stick yours back before steve would half drag you away by the arm. you’d mention your hairdresser’s imminent due date, and he’d find a way to change the topic. hell, you’d cooed over the baby in look who’s talking one time and he’d switched the channels, claiming he hated john travolta even though you’d watched saturday night fever with him at least four times. you were starting to get confused. the two of you had talked about kids; why was it becoming such a problem now?
───
‘i got on the pill, y’don’t have to bother with a condom.’
steve stopped stock still. in seven years, he’d never been able to go without. shitty blue state indiana had made contraception for unmarried women a fucking nightmare, and while he really wanted to marry you eventually, he wasn’t about to do it just so he could go raw. steve’d half-hoped he wouldn’t be able to until you were married; he didn’t know what he was capable of if you let him do that to you. but you’d sprung it on him. while you were naked under him and he was halfway to the bedside table, you’d laid a small hand on his arm and looked up at him with that expression on your face he loved so much and stuck out your bottom lip. he’d never said no to you before. how could he ever start now?
‘a-are you sure? y’know i don’t mind, sweetness, i’m happy to wear one.’ he was frowning now, deep lines etching the ordinarily soft skin of his forehead, and you reached a hand up to smooth out the creases.
‘kinda thought you’d be a bit more excited than this, honey.’ you were half-smiling, half-worried, head tilted as you observed steve. you’d known him for fifteen years, been dating him almost half as long. knew him like the back of your hand, knew when he was worried about something, when something was playing on his mind and he just couldn’t shrug it off. he shook his head vehemently, stroking your face with a shaky hand.
’s’not that, babe. i’m really excited, like, really excited. didn’t think we’d be able to do this until- well…’ he trailed off, leaning down to kiss your bare shoulder in a feeble attempt to hide his reddening face from your eyesight.
you sat up a little then, peering down at him. the pill wasn’t even something you’d thought much of until nancy had told you all about it, hush hush over a coffee.
‘it’s changed my life, honestly. everything’s more… regular, and well, you know…’ you’d raised your eyebrows at her to hasten her explanation and she’d blushed bright red and hidden behind her hair when she whispered ‘jonathan loves being able to, like… y’know, do it inside. everything’s so much better in the bedroom.’ 
you’d left your lunch date hot under the collar, and almost sprinted straight to your family doctor. the idea of being so intimate, so close to steve for the first time ever without having to worry about the consequences excited you.
‘until what, stevie? we can carry on using a condom if you w-‘ steve’s eyes shot open, shaking his head wildly until his hair bounced.
‘no! no, i just.’ he cleared his throat, itching the back of his neck nervously.
‘i’m worried if we do it without, i won’t be able to hold back. the idea of doing that to you, of cumming inside you… it makes me so hard i can’t think.’
his confession left your mouth open and mind whirring, thinking back to the last few months and the way he’d been acting around you and babies and all of a sudden, everything clicked.
‘stevie,’ you cooed, smirking at the expression on his face. ‘you wanna get me pregnant, don’t you?’
a guttural groan broke free from his throat and he lunged forward like a man possessed, capturing your lips with a ferocious heat that had you moaning into his mouth. large, rough hands gripped your stomach, your hips, and squeezed so tight you groaned. steve took his chance, tongue surging into your mouth and licking the top of your mouth, the back of your teeth. he pushed himself up so he was kneeling above you, manhandling you up so you were facing him, knees touching.
‘y’can’t say that to me, baby,’ he looked frantic, still kissing you between words. ‘god, you’re so… so fuckin’… h christ, can’t believe you said that.’ your mind was reeling, all consumed with the idea of it. 
‘i’d be lying if i said the thought of trying for a baby with you wasn’t on my mind recently, stevie.’ you looked up at him, eyelashes fluttering, and his fingers dug into your flesh so hard you were sure there’d be bruises the next morning. ‘when liz came over with the baby, y’have no idea how much i wished she was ours.’
steve was totally fucked.
he couldn’t get his breathing under control listening to talking about carrying his babies, and his head was swimming in pictures; you, lying on the beach in a bikini with a cute bump. lying on your front cautiously while steve rubbed your tired back muscles. tying your shoes for you ‘cuz you couldn’t reach over your swollen tummy. most of all though, he couldn’t stop imagining the sight of his cum seeping out from your pretty little pussy, your hips propped up on a pillow, hoping it’d take.
‘think we should?’ he spoke before he could even think about it, and he almost apologised. almost. because when he looked down at your face, instead of seeing shock or disgust, you were fucking smirking up at him. a manicured nail traced its way up through his chest hair, the other hand gripping the back of his neck, and steve felt lightheaded.
‘you gotta be off the pill at least a week before it stops working, you know.’ you cocked your head to the side. ‘doesn’t mean we can’t start practising though.’
steve helped you onto your knees so you were face down, ass up. his favourite, especially when he wanted to go a bit harder, a bit rougher, and the anticipation sent shivers down your spine. behind you, the bed shifted, and the distinctive sound of elastic cracking skin rang out from behind you as steve shed his boxers, the final (and only) barrier left between the two of you.
‘you want me to lube up, baby? i’d ask you to do it with your mouth, but i think i’d bust.’ you laughed together and he grabbed your left hand, intertwining your fingers. no matter what, steve never made you doubt how much he loved you, and small moments of intimacy like this always made you wanna cry every time.
‘just a bit, babe, ‘m ready for you,’ you whined your hips back into him, ass brushing his hairy thighs, and he groaned at the trail of slick you left against his hot skin. reaching into the drawer and, for the first time, straight past the open box of johnnies, steve grabbed the half-empty bottle of lube that lived there. you could hear him squirting it into his hand, slathering it all over his thick cock, all the while muttering away almost mindlessly.
‘you’re gonna be such a good mommy, honey, s’ good for me and our baby. so full of our children, so beautiful and round for me, gonna look after you. gonna be the most gorgeous little family, sweetness.’ he reached down, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.
‘baby, i really need to just fuck you full,’ he whispered, and you looked over your shoulder at him. there was an almost feral gleam in his eyes, and you swallowed thickly. he pushed two long fingers into you, whining when he found you were already soaking wet and more than ready to take him. you keened your hips back again, pleading, pretty eyelashes fluttering.
‘take me, steve.’
he was up to the base by the time you’d taken a breath, heavy balls resting at the curve of your thighs and ass, and the sensation was like nothing either of you had known before. you could feel every ridge, every vein pumping through his cock, and he felt so warm in you it could have almost been too much. steve had never felt anything so hot, so tight, so unbelievably natural in his whole life, and he had to stop still as soon as he was balls deep lest he cum in seconds. 
‘oh fuck,’ he was groaning behind you, legs trapping the bottom half of your body to the bed in an attempt to stop you squirming. ‘this is- jesus christ, this is something else, baby.’ under him, you were desperately trying not to rock your hips back into steve’s. he was so heavy and hard inside you, twitching and leaking precum already and he hadn’t even moved, hadn’t even started to fill you up.
steve’s hips pulled back slowly, leaving just the head still wrapped in you, before plunging back in and starting up a brutal pace. his hands were gripping at your pelvis and your head was buried in the pillow at the head of your bed, fingers reaching behind you to intertwine with his own against the fat of your hips. he thrust particularly hard into one spot that had your mind reeling, almost screaming his name into the pillow and pulling forward from the pleasure of it all. steve chased you, the front of his thighs almost stuck to the back of yours with sweat. by now, he was barely even pulling out, just chasing his own thrusts deep within you as he panted above you, sloppy kisses pressed into the skin at the back of your neck. skilled fingers reached around to your clit, rubbing it in that way only steve ever managed to do it, and your legs felt like jelly under you. if it wasn’t for the way he pressed right up against your hips, you’d be on your front by now, crushed under his weight into the bed.
‘’m really, really close, baby, fuck. c’mon sweetness,’ he was rambling behind you, hips working even quicker to turn you to goo under him, melted into the mattress and taking what he gave you. you could feel it building deep in your stomach, and you just needed something else, something to push you over the edge-
‘cum for me, let’s make me a daddy,’ steve was crying out and you were cumming, thighs clenching and back arching, screams buried into the pillow and teeth clenched so hard your jaw popped. steve wasn’t long behind you; the way you gushed when you came, the vice-like grip on his leaking cock? it was all too much, and for the first time, steve harrington came inside the love of his life, hot and gasping and flashes of you with a baby bump running through his mind. carefully, gently, he pulled out, cock softening against his thigh and then growing half hard again. your pussy was swollen, his cum leaking out of your hole. unthinking, steve reached up to push it back in with two fingers, rubbing your ass with the other hand when you flinched away from the stimulation.
‘sorry, baby, just gotta make sure it takes.’
you rolled onto your back, and he couldn’t help but smile at the way you rolled your eyes at him.
‘told you stevie, gonna be at least a week until i’m all fertile and shit again.’
he flopped on top of you, grinning.
‘i guess we’re gonna have to practise over,’ a kiss to your cheek.
‘and over.’ your shoulder.
‘and over.’ your nose.
‘and over again.’ finally, your lips. ‘i love you.’
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