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rebelspykatie · 9 months

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While you all wait for the anticipated first date, here’s an alternate ending that I wrote before deciding to take this story in a different direction. This is in reference to my Soulmate AU you can find here.

Soulmate AU Alternate Ending

They dance around each other for the rest of the year, and Steve quietly graduates, still never having spoken a word to Eddie. That is, until Steve’s father forces him to get a job over the summer.

When Eddie wanders into Scoops one slow evening, he comes to a halt in front of Steve, looking between him and Robin with wild eyes, like a deer staring down the barrel of a hunters gun.

Robin is watching them, fascinated and a little intrigued by the absolute silence that they seem to be trapped in.

“You gonna order something, Munson?”

Eddie barely looks like he heard her, not looking away from Steve, but he mumbles out an order for one vanilla cone. Robin works around Steve, who is unmoving from his spot leaning against the counter, scooping up vanilla into a cone and holding it out over the freezer.

Eddie finally snaps out of it and goes to pay, which makes Steve realize how he was frozen in place, just watching Eddie. Steve shoves Robin aside and moves to take Eddie’s money. When their hands meet, you can almost see the electricity that passes between them, both pulling their hands back like they’ve been shocked.

“Enjoy your ice cream,” Steve says, looking at Eddie from under thick lashes and fiddling with the cuff on his wrist covering up Eddie’s name. He’s never been close enough to see the dark red stain of Steve’s lips but now it’s all he can focus on.

He can’t work up the courage to say anything back, just nods and takes his cone to a corner booth. It’s conveniently placed where he can see Robin and Steve working, the later routinely glancing in Eddie’s direction while he licks away at the cone, cheeks a faint pink color Eddie’s pretty sure he’s imagining.

Eddie wandered into Scoops close to closing, the regular mass of people dwindling down to just a few stragglers and mall employees. So it’s easy to pick up on the whispered conversation Robin and Steve are having behind the register.

Steve’s cleaning the counters and Robin is refilling the dispensers of spoons and napkins, but they’re arguing. Something about giving it a shot and what harm can it do. Robin receives a lot of bitchy little sneers that almost make Eddie laugh from his vantage point.

He almost chokes on his tongue when they stop arguing and Robin shoves Steve out from behind the counter with a bottle of cleaning spray and a rag. Eddie watches Steve make the rounds, cleaning the few tables that sat between him and the register, before he hesitantly shuffles over to Eddie’s table.

Who knew that Harrington could rock a dumb sailor uniform this well. If Eddie didn’t already have his name on his wrist, he’d scratch out whoever was there and get Steve’s name tattooed in its place from this look alone. No one can ever find out how hot he finds this getup. He’d never live it down.

“Hey sailor,” Eddie says, immediately wanting to slam his forehead onto the table and concuss himself, or maybe crawl under it and die there.

Steve freezes. And now Eddie can see that he was right. The pink color of his cheeks was very real and even cuter up close.

“You and your first mate done arguing?”

“You heard all that?”

“It’s not that big of a store, captain.”

Steve rubs at the back of his neck. “Sorry. She just thinks I’m being stupid.”

“About what? Is the USS Butterscotch sinking?”

A quiet huff of laughter escapes Steve. “You, actually.”

Eddie’s head whips back. “Me?”

Steve nods. He takes a step closer and gestures at the seat opposite Eddie, silently asking to sit. Eddie waves an inviting arm for him to join him.

Steve clears his throat, twisting the rag in his hand, looking down at the table. “She knows what’s on my arm. She’s the only person I’ve told. But she doesn’t understand why I haven’t talked to you, called me a dingus.”

“She brings up a good point. Why haven’t you talked to me?”

“I could ask you the same thing. You’ve known about this longer than I have. But I guess I was just scared,” Steve shrugs. “I’m no catch these days.”

Eddie reaches out and pushes a loose strand of hair out of Steve’s face, who finally looks up and locks eyes with Eddie. “Pretty sure the universe thinks you’re the exact right catch for me.”

They just stare at each other for a minute. Eddie’s never been good with silence, but he feels an odd sense of calm around Steve, like his presence is what Eddie was waiting for, and they barely even know each other.

“You would want that? To try being together?” Eddie nods. “I thought you wanted nothing to do with me.”

“You’re practically Hawkins royalty, Steve. I thought I was unworthy of even being in your presence, let alone being your soulmate. Our names showing up on each other’s arms is the most shocking thing that’s ever happened to me. I guess I just needed some time to process it.”

“And now?” He says it with this hopeful, shiny look in his eyes, still a bit cautious.

“I think I’m done processing. I’ve totally gotten over the whole jock thing-“

“Hey!”

“I’ve moved on because I think I can really get into this whole vibe,” he tugs gently on the red ascot of Steve’s uniform. “Never would’ve thought sailors were my thing, but you’re really making this work for me.”

A cackle carries across the shop and they both startle as if they forgot anyone else was here. Robin’s laughing as she goes through the register to close it out for the night, eyeing them and shaking her head.

“No one needs to know about your weird kinks, Munson.”

He flips her off. “Leave me and my soulmate alone, Buckley.”

A sharp intake of breath draws his gaze back to Steve. That hopeful look has turned to one of pure adoration. “Your soulmate,” he whispers.

Eddie pulls Steve a little closer and whispers in confirmation, “My soulmate.”

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #stranger things #katie writes

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dungeonpuppykai · 2 months

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Pairing: Daddy-Dom bf!Pedri | Tall brat gf!You.

Warning(s): D/s dynamics, power imbalance, manhandling, stern Pedri, Daddy kink, spanking, humiliation, degradation, dumbification, nipple play, ddlg. Please do not read if this isn't your cup of tea. Do not repost my works in any way, or use my ideas without permission. Minors do not interact.

-> Part I Here <- This continuation probably only exists because of @percysley

You are too greedy for your own good.

And though you will probably never admit it to your Daddy who always says that, when his hand comes down on your very naked poor little sorry butt again, you jump before letting out a whine.

Your long legs dangle from where you're sprawled across Pedri's lap and curl against the ground. "Mmmmh!" You can't help but groan when he grips one of your arms and cups the curve of your nether regions to push your body up and adjust its position to expose it better to his wrath. "Daddy, please!" Your arms that he has folded and locked under the hand that's not busy bruising your ass struggle in their bind.

You had chosen ice cream.

But as the flavor of one of your favorite treats continued to fade on your tongue, you weren't sure if whining until he gave you the choice between a hefty cupful of yummy butterscotch ice cream or a spanking only for you to choose the former had been the right decision.

Your Daddy had a rather deceiving physique.

Because while he did not look like the strongest guy ever, the guy could pull and land some weight pretty effortlessly.

Pedri being the stern brat tamer that he was had turned a deaf ear to your begs and pleads -unless you were to use your safeword- as he continued to heat up your ass.

"Daddy! I am sorryugh!" You almost snapped this time around, wincing as you tried to dodge his hits but all in vain.

"Yeah?" You groaned when he squeezed one of your aching cheeks and pulled at it.

"Ugh, yes!"

Your Daddy clicked his tongue. "I don't know, little one" as your cheek was allowed to move back into its place, his fingers dragged across your hot skin, tracing the linear dent between your buttcheeks. "Doesn't sound like it" your legs kicked when he suddenly pulled his palm back only to bring it colliding against your pitiable ass again.

"Owie, Daddyyyy!" You bounced in all directions in a comical way. "I am! I do mean it- owwwwie fuuuu-"

"What was that?" Your eyes widened when you were pulled backwards and closer to him by your arms.

Oh no!

You nearly said a naughty word!

"Nothing, Daddy! OmaiGawd, nothing nothing!" You sputtered in an alarming way, hoping and praying that he didn't hear.

Pedri clicked his tongue in disapproval and you could just visualize him shaking his head. "What a shameful little thing this is" your thighs that you had brought together were smacked apart, the sound of skin colliding with skin nearly echoing off the walls. "Causing a scene in the bookstore like our Daddy hasn't taught us any manners" the blow that came down this time around made your pucker sting because of the distance he had created between your knees.

"Owieeee!" He spoke over your pitiful cries.

"Then arguing against rules–"

"I wasn't arguing– ouuuuch!" That earned you two more spanks, one on each cheek.

"Arguing again" the sternness of his tone made you mum and you whimpered, lowering your head. He let you dwell in the humiliating silence for a couple seconds as he caressed your throbbing ass and sit spots before continuing. "Then bargaining with Daddy" another spank, "only to pretend like we didn't remember choosing spanking for ice cream!" The spanks he landed now were short, firm and calculated. "As if all that isn't pathetic enough, saying big naughty words that are absolutely forbidden for silly little baby sluts like yourself!"

"I am sorrryyyy!" Was all you could speak through your sorry snot.

"And then…" A gasp left you when he harshly cupped the mound between your legs and squeezed it. "Making a mess all over Daddy's pants like it's playtime" your flushed face heated up even more as your speedy pulse began to riot, your heart thumping in your chest. "Tsk" the squelching of your wetness was loud in the otherwise quiet room as Pedri gathered some on his fingers before feeling it. "Just too silly to know anything, aren't we, baby?" Your holes clenched when he spread the cool juices over your seething cheeks.

You moaned and whined, pushing your ass up against his hand for more, the pain in your lower half giving way to something more powerful.

Pedri snickered under his breath and then you felt his hand curl around your thigh. "Such a dirty little slut I've here" a loud squeak escaped you when he suddenly flipped you over so now you were laying down on your back. "Her little mind is too small to know the difference between punishment and playtime, huh?" One of his hands pushed your shirt up to reveal the chest that he loved to play with, and the other one pushed your legs apart. "So whenever Daddy so much as even touches her, she's ready to go" his vile words were pricking at your face but you were too far gone to protest, whining and biting your lips in anticipation as his fingers twirled one of your nipples between them.

"Mmm~" your hands hung above your head.

Pedri's eyes were dark as he shook his head at the way you moaned when his fingers brushed your sex. "Dirty, dirty baby" your eyes widened when his hand pulled back before landing on your pussy, causing your whole body to twist and jerk upwards. "What?" He spoke to you in a baby voice like you were nothing more. "Aw, bunny…" Your cruel Daddy clicked his tongue as he wound his hand back and brought it down on your folds again. "This isn't playtime!" A bile formed in your throat when he paused momentarily to spread your pussy lips to expose the flushed flesh underneath. "But of course, you're too much of an airhead to know that, aren't you?" The spank that thundered against your soaked pussy now was piercing in its quality.

You had a long evening to go before you could hope for some mercy or chance at redemption.

MASTERLIST

Pedri makes me feral. Unedited. Feedback is much appreciated 🩷

#pedri blurb #pedri barça #pedri x reader #pedri imagine #pedri #pedri x you #pedri gonzalez #pedri smut #pedri fluff #pedri x y/n #barca #fc barcelona

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lavendercharm · 2 months

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Linger, Chapter 2: Evil Woman

Summary: From the moment you meet her, you can't stand Melissa Schemmenti.

Warnings: Strong Language

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For as irate as she’d made you, you knew you owed credit where credit was due: Melissa was a phenomenal teacher.

You’d watched her teach math after settling into your desk, masking her disdain toward you effortlessly as she started her lesson. Her passion and love for her work was undeniable. Even more, her kids seemed to adore her. Everyone has those teachers who stay with them as they grow up, and you had no doubt Melissa would be that teacher for quite a few of her kids. Sure, they were silly, rambunctious, and easily distracted, as are most eight and nine year olds. But there was a strong undercurrent of respect for their teacher. The fact that she managed all of this while teaching two grades was immensely impressive.

You didn’t care if it was petty: the fact that she was just that good made you all the more irritated.

You watched her with contempt and tried to ignore the budding admiration that was almost imperceptible beneath it all. ‘She’s had plenty of years to practice,’ you think to yourself grumpily, but despite your best efforts, you couldn’t put any real malice behind the words. You didn’t really care about how old she was. You were simply stewing in your feelings, the knowledge that she was apparently touchy about her age the only ammunition you had at the moment. Seeing as you couldn’t find much of anything to criticize when it came to her teaching abilities, you were grasping at straws.

After her last biting comment, you managed to make it through the rest of the morning mostly unscathed. A few sharp glances had been thrown in your direction as you made your way around the room assisting the kids who asked for help, but you’d resolved to ignore them. You weren’t going to give her the satisfaction of acknowledging her dirty looks.

The morning flew by in a flurry of math, reading, and science. You’d started to learn a bit about the kids in your temporary class. There was Jameela, a third grader who’s favorite color was yellow and who had a new kitten at home named Butterscotch; Kaden, a third grader who loved Minecraft and hated jelly beans; Antonia, a second grader who’d corrected you that she went by ‘Toni’ and who’d beamed when you told her she hadn’t made a single mistake on her math sheet; and Lawrence, a third grader who was terribly shy, yet wonderfully intuitive. You’d given him a giant grin as you helped him sound out a word he didn’t know.

You could feel your sour mood gradually beginning to lift as you’d made your way through the room. Helping students reminded you why you were here. After the events of this morning, the only thing you really wanted to do was keep your head down, do your work, and make it through the end of the day without having another… disagreement with Melissa Schemmenti.

Turns out you wouldn’t make it to lunch.

A few minutes before 12:30, Melissa gruffly mutters to you in passing that she has lunch duty today. Glancing at the schedule she’d petulantly tossed on your desk earlier, you saw her class had Art and Recess after lunch. As you open your mouth to ask if Melissa wants you to take the kids, she abruptly cuts you off, holding up a hand to silence you. Narrowing her eyes, she bitingly snaps, “I got it. I wanna make sure they get there on time."

The anger that had started to simmer down boils over, becoming white-hot, the suffocating feeling welling up inside of your chest. You’d hoped to move on from this morning, but it was becoming quickly apparent that Melissa Schemmenti knew how to hold a grudge. You clench your jaw, aiming for a low blow you knew would land. "Don't break a hip on the way there," you quietly sneer. You weren't proud of it, but you were pissed and giving into the urge to lash out.

There was an intense flash of animosity in her eyes. You know she heard you, and you're sure you'd be dead on the spot if it weren't for the kids in the room with you. The look in her eyes could peel the skin off of you. "What was that?" she practically growls, her tone low to avoid drawing attention to you both.

You didn't think she’d go so far as to physically fight you in front of her students, but you noticed her fists clenching and unclenching at her sides, and suddenly you weren't so sure. You'd been in exactly one fight in your life, and you weren't all that convinced that punching a boy in the nose for making fun of you when you were eight even counted. A darker part of you wanted to see how far you could push the woman, but the last thing you needed was to lose your job by continuing to provoke a full-time faculty member.

Instead of playing into the desire to take things further, you use the only protection you can think of: drawing the attention of the students. Raising your voice slightly above your normal speaking volume, you retort, "I said 'Suit yourself, Miss Schemmenti!’ What do you think I said?" Being unable to resist one final jab, you force a genial tone and add, "Maybe you should get your hearing checked!"

A couple of students giggle, and you see a muscle in Melissa’s jaw jump out as she clenches her teeth together. She’s practically bursting at the seams to pounce on you and rip your head off. Her nostrils flair with the effort of holding herself together. You find yourself suddenly struck once more by how beautiful she is. There’s a dusting of color high on her cheeks and her eyes are alight with intensity. Her full lips are fighting the urge to pull apart and bare her teeth in a snarl. She was gorgeous.

You couldn’t fucking stand it.

She manages to bite out a very forced, “Of course. How silly of me.” She pries herself away from you and stiffly asks the class to stop what they’re doing to line up for lunch. She doesn’t look at you again, but an aura of hostility still hangs in the air around her. You get the impression you’re only safe for the time being.

A few minutes later, you’re alone in the classroom. You feel the weight of the confrontation starting to dissipate and you collapse back into your seat. Dropping your head into your hands, you berate yourself for your childish and unprofessional behavior. You’d never been so quick to anger as you were with Melissa Schemmenti. Replaying the events of the morning, you try to figure out why you both ended up at each other's throats so quickly. You start to think perhaps you’d been too sensitive about Melissa’s japes, but you stop yourself. You had been late, but it was an accident. She’d never met you before and it had felt totally uncalled for. Couldn’t she be bothered to give you the benefit of the doubt?

Her comments about the way you looked just added insult to injury. You realize in her mind she may have just been making a joke, but it had made you feel belittled, as if she didn’t respect your position as her equal. Just because you had less experience than her didn’t mean you should be treated like you were below her. You scowled to yourself, thinking about how she’d reacted when you fired back asking her how old she was. She could dish it, but apparently couldn’t take it.

This day had felt impossibly long, and it wasn’t even 1 PM yet.

Glancing around the room, you absorb the state it was in. Trying to wrangle nearly thirty kids into a semblance of an orderly line to get to lunch on time meant school supplies were scattered haphazardly across desks and the floor. You didn’t have your lunch today, and though you considered leaving to buy something down the street, you really shouldn’t spend the money.

After a moment’s thought, you stand from your desk and begin tidying up the room. You collect colored pencils, paper scraps, and glue sticks, reuniting them with their caps in the process. If you weren’t going to eat lunch, you might as well keep yourself busy to make time pass a bit faster. And maybe coming back to a cleaner room would improve Melissa’s mood a bit, so you could both leave at the end of the day without having drawn blood.

You toss the paper scraps into the recycling bin near the door and investigate the various drawers and cabinets to find the proper homes for everything you’d gathered. It’s not long before you discover the colored pencil bin in a cabinet, and frown when you notice the disorganization inside. A teacher as experienced as Melissa didn’t strike you as someone who couldn’t stay on top of her stuff - at least under normal circumstances. With two grades crammed into one room though, it made sense things would get away from her. Did her current aide even do anything?

You start removing things, finding items in the wrong bins as well as many unusable and ruined materials. Huffing to yourself, you manage to empty one container and designate it “The Graveyard”. Soon you’ve amassed a sizable pile of broken or unusable supplies. Deciding to organize the crayons and pencils by color group while you’re here, you’re suddenly interrupted by a quick knock on the doorframe and a voice speaking before you can even turn around.

“Hey Melissa, can I take a peek at your lesson for- oh?”

You find yourself in the presence of a very small black woman with wide eyes and short curly hair. Her outfit is colorful - ‘Oh lord, the pattern on her skirt. Was her skirt literally made from a quilt?’ The surprise on her face is quickly replaced by the friendliest smile you’d seen today, which was really no competition. Regardless, it fills you with warmth. You silently ask the universe to please let you make one new friend today.

It seems you’ve earned a break. “Sorry, I thought Melissa would be in here, since she’s not in the lounge! She must have lunch duty. I wanted to look at her lesson plans for Social Studies to make sure my class isn’t falling behind. Or getting too far ahead. Probably that second one, my class loves social studies. I’m Miss Teagues- er, Janine!” You don’t even care about her info dump. You’re so relieved to have a normal, friendly introduction that you’d let her talk about almost anything. Janine was the first adult today who hadn’t either lied to your face, or seemed ready and more-than-willing to break it.

You return the woman’s smile, greeting her and giving her your name. “I’m subbing for the aide while she’s out sick, so it looks like I’ll be around for the next few days,” you tell her. Speaking it out loud, you feel a bit demoralized. ‘If I even live that long.’

Janine beams at you. “Well, welcome to Abbott! It’s the best, I love it here. I bet you will too!” You expect her to leave, but an awkward silence follows in which Janine simply looks at you. After what feels like just a little too long, she pipes up.“I love reorganizing! And believe me, I totally get it when you’re in ‘the flow’,” she emphasizes with very cheesy air quotes, “but aren’t you going to eat lunch?”

“Oh, actually I’m okay-” you begin to reassure Janine, but the gurgling of your stomach rudely interrupts you and blows your cover.

You stand in another awkward silence for a moment, before Janine throws you a finger gun and cracks, “Sounds like someone’s hungry. Why don’t you stop for now and come join us in the teacher’s lounge? You can meet Jacob and Gregory!” You’re touched by the enthusiastic offer.

“That sounds really lovely Janine… but I woke up late this morning and left my lunch at home. At this point, I don’t really have time to run out. I’ll be okay, I promise,” you reassure the shorter woman. But you can tell by the look in her eyes she won’t accept your answer.

“At least let me bring you some of my lunch! You need to eat something today!” Before you can protest, Janine is out the door and down the hall. Her insistence on looking after you makes you slightly uncomfortable, seeing as you’d only just met three minutes ago, but you allow yourself to accept her kindness. It was the first overt act of compassion you’d received today, and you had a feeling that once Janine Teagues made up her mind about something, she did not give up easily.

When she returns, she’s holding a paper plate with the most incredible looking lasagna you’ve ever seen. It’s steaming, and as the scent reaches you, your mouth waters. She hands it to you with a grin and says, “Go ahead and dig in! This is the best lasagna ever.”

You take the plate and thank Janine profusely. You feel like you could cry from the kindness she’s shown you in light of how awful the day’s been. You pick up the plastic fork, and take a bite. Immediately your taste buds are flooded with flavor, the melted cheese and perfectly spiced tomato sauce actually bringing tears to your eyes. You didn’t realize until just now how hungry you really are, and you don’t even fully swallow your first bite before taking a second. Janine’s watching you intently, a smile plastered on her face as she witnesses the spiritual journey her lasagna is taking you on.

After you swallow your third bite, you look at Janine and declare, “This… this might be the best thing I’ve ever tasted. You’re an incredible cook Janine.”

Immediately Janine looks sheepish, her smile unwavering as her eyes dart away from you. “Oh, thank you! But I didn’t make it. I had a bit of a rough week last week. I was in the lounge this morning, doing my prep, you know? And all of a sudden, a tupperware full of lasagna’s sitting in front of me. She didn’t say anything, but I know it was Melissa’s way of taking care of me.”

You come to a screeching halt mid-chew. The name unpleasantly rings in your ears like tinnitus after a loud concert. Through a mouthful of food, you utter, “Melissa?”

Janine’s eyebrows come together in confusion. As if it’s the most obvious fact in the world, she replies, “Yeah, Melissa. She’s the incredible cook.”

Your appetite evaporates. The lasagna may as well have turned to ash in your mouth. You have to force it down, not wanting to spit it out into the trash in front of Janine. Despite the heavenly taste, this new knowledge makes it feel like your body’s trying to reject the food. You look down at the remaining lasagna on your plate and your stomach churns. After a final gulp, you turn away from Janine and grimace, abandoning the remainder of her lunch on your desk. You muster a weak, “Wow, that’s… wow!”

‘Is there anything this damn woman can’t do!?” you think, your mood reaching its depths of the day. You take a moment to compose yourself before turning back around to Janine and shooting her a tight-lipped smile. “Thank you Janine. I should finish up what I started before the class gets back!” Janine assures you she’s happy to have helped, and after dallying a moment longer, she departs the room.

Your hands fly to your face, running down it in exasperation. You just couldn’t escape Melissa Schemmenti. Still, a niggling thought sticks in the back of your mind. It appears the woman was capable of being civil, and even showing acts of kindness. Although indirectly, it was because of her that you'd been able to eat today. You're sure she'd be furious about that.

You resolve yourself to try and patch things up with her. Taking stock of the progress you've made in organizing and decluttering her room, you think you might have a good start to doing just that.

#melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you #this chapter's song is evil woman by canned heat #idk it's just kinda funky and i like the sound #Spotify

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3d-wifey · 8 months

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And They'd Find Us In A Week - Chapter 3

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Reader Word Count: 5.08k Synopsis: Here! Playlist: Listen up! A/N: Don't be scared to click the embedded links, you might get an auditory surprise (Ai voice cloning works wonders)

Past (iii) - You

[16 & 17] - THE CAPITOL

When you were six, Eleven had a bad year for crops. Of course, the ones who felt the brunt of it were the district citizens. Your parents had given you half of their rations plus your own, but that still wasn't much and you were starving. So you snuck into the woods in hopes of finding something to eat when you saw it. A coyote stuck on its side, legs too frail to lift itself.

It looked gaunt, ribs protruding and spine on display. You knew hunger personally enough to recognize it anywhere. But even as weak as it was, it looked at you like you were prey—growling and snapping its teeth from where it laid on its side.

You knew it could hurt you. No matter how weak it looked, it was still stronger than you and all it would take was one bite for you to get some kind of infection. With how weak your immune system was, something like that would have killed you almost instantly. So you left it there.

As you sit in front of President Snow, you can't help but be reminded of that coyote.

He's paler in person, face thinner up close. That doesn't make him any less imposing. You fidget in your seat and glance at the door. You know there are four Peacekeepers stationed outside, guns full of ammo. They'll shoot you down without a second thought if Snow wills it, put a bullet in your skull at the snap of his fingers.

There are dozens of white roses around you, tucked inside vases on any available surface. Almost innocent if not for their cloying scent. It gives you a headache. You’ve never seen so many roses outside of a funeral.

When you received the letter requesting your presence, you were at a loss. The next Victory Tour wasn't for a couple of months. What business do you have in the Capitol?

You're so concentrated on your surroundings that it surprises you when he finally starts talking.

"Forgive me, I never personally commended you for your games. I would have done so a year ago, of course, but there were complications." His gruff voice carries in the room. Your shoulders are stiff with tension.

Is that it? He invited you to the Capitol—to his office—to what? To salute you? Your stylist didn't have you plucked and waxed just for a pat on the back. There must be more behind this, not that you would ever call him out on that.

He opens a drawer on his right and pulls out an intricately designed, rectangular canister. He places it in front of you, takes off the lid, and picks up a gold-wrapped piece of candy.

"Many people don't get to relish in the luxuries of the Capitol. For example, this candy. You didn't get to have many of these growing up in Eleven, did you," he chuckles when you shake your head. He knew the answer to that question before he asked it, "No, of course not. But you're a victor now, you should indulge. Butterscotch?" He offers and it feels like bait.

You're not sure if you can work up the nerve to say no to him, even over something as trivial as a piece of candy. You nod and he raises his eyebrow. You clear your throat, "Yes, please."

"Good girl." He mutters approvingly, gloved fingers brushing your palm as he hands the candy to you. You barely hold back a flinch.

He watches you unwrap the candy and place it in your mouth. It's quiet. You can feel your heartbeat in your teeth.

"It's good, isn't it?" He asks rhetorically but doesn't continue speaking. He just stares. You can't tell if he wants you to answer or not. And when you finally open your mouth to say something, he cuts you off.

"There's something on your mind. Say it."

"I'm sorry, Sir, but I—I just didn't think my games were impressive enough to garner your attention." You barely did anything worth a spectacle. Your games might have been entertaining, but you're no Finnick Odair.

“Now, let's be honest with each other. You're thinking, ‘Surely, he didn't invite me here just to congratulate me’, yes?” He smiles with an encouraging nod, almost like a schoolteacher. Are you that easy to read? First Finnick, now him.

You nod, unsure if any noise that comes out of your mouth will be intelligible.

"You're quite clever for someone of your background. That's why people love you so much. And it's that love that brings you here today. The people want more of you."

"I didn't know I was so popular." You naively thought the hype surrounding you and your games would die off with the entrance of a new victor. Will you be interviewed by Caesar? Doing another photoshoot for Capitol Couture?

“I want to explain something to you, my dear, in a way you’ll understand. Imagine a wolf wanders onto your farm—you know what a wolf is, yes? This wolf hasn’t killed any of your cattle, but it has the potential to. Now, you could always get rid of the wolf, kill it, but that’s only a temporary solution. There will always be other wolves.” He scolds you as if you were the one to suggest it and not him. “Why go through the effort of killing it, when you can tame it—give the wolf a bone, so to speak. You earn its loyalty and it protects the cattle from other predators.” You aren’t sure you really follow what he’s trying to say. Are you the wolf? The cattle? You certainly don’t own the farm.

"In the past, I’ve always resorted to getting rid of my wolves. But I’ve found it’s easier to domesticate them. I'll be completely transparent with you as I want no misunderstandings between us. I am in the business of making wolves happy. And something that'll make them very happy is you," your knees ache with how hard you're gripping them, "not even the most blue-blooded citizens can fight the allure of spending a night with a victor. Especially one as captivating as yourself."

You stare at each other. Your eyes stunned, his apathetic. You’re able to decipher his needlessly complicated metaphor and you wish he was talking about actual wolves. You’d rather take your chances with the predators in the woods than the ones in the Capitol.

“I...I'm sorry, I don't understand. If this is a money thing—”

"No, I don't do this for money. Although there is a substantial fee involved, the people who are pushing for this are my key endorsers. You provide this service for them and I ensure their loyalty. Wolf, meet bone."

You shake your head, suddenly nauseous. "Why would I agree to that?"

"Why? Do you not care about your mother? What of Seeder and her poor children," he asks, tsking at your confusion, "Eleven is our most populated district. It can stand to lose a few people." You hear the threat he's not saying and throwing up becomes a very, very real possibility.

You say nothing, swallowing around fear and vomit. He leans back in his chair, probably sickly satisfied at how subdued he’s got you.

You've never hated anyone as much as you hate the man before you. Not the peacekeeper that executed your father, or the Crop Overseer that made it her mission to touch as many of the young farmhands as she could. He's going to whore you out to the highest bidder. No, he's giving your body away like a party favor.

He steeples his fingers. "There's a party tonight. I can expect to see you there, hmm?"

You nod slowly before remembering what he wants. "Yes, sir."

"Good," he releases a puff of air from his nose that you can almost count as a laugh. He slides a key card across the desk. "You will be staying at the Marquis Hotel in room 2077. There are only two people with access to the door: you and the Avox in charge of cleaning it. Unless stated otherwise, you will hold all of your appointments in this room." He's given you the top floor, you note faintly.

"You will receive your assignments from me personally," he sits a paper card face-down in front of you, "This is the name of your client and what time you can expect them to knock on your door. Along with your room number, in case it slips your mind," You pick both cards off the desk, almost expecting them to burn your fingers. But they're just objects. The only thing that can hurt you here is Snow.

"You've been very compliant thus far. I hope it's a trait you continue to possess in the future." The sound of his leather gloves squeaking against each other draws your attention for a beat. It's a welcome distraction from the blood rushing in your ears. "Now, there's something important I must ask you."

You look up at him, shaking where you sit. You know your face is twisted into a scowl and you dig your nails into your thighs.

What more does he want from you? He’s practically squeezing a stone, expecting blood, but can’t he see you have nothing left for him to take? But there’s something Snow knows that you haven’t considered. If you squeeze a rock hard enough, you get diamonds. Finnick finds you with your back pressed to the wall like you’re the only thing keeping it up, scowling at anyone who tries to start up a conversation with you.

"What's got you pouting, beautiful?" He teases, approaching you with a good-natured smile.

He leans in next to you, close enough that your bare arm brushes his satin-covered chest with every breath. He's a drink or two in, you can tell by the slant of his eyes and the flush in his cheeks.

You contemplate it for a second. Should you tell him? You need someone to talk to, or just to listen to you and he's the closest thing you've ever had to a friend in a very long time, especially in the Capitol. That certainly means something to you. You’re so far from your natural habitat and there’s safety in numbers. Though, you guess you’ve never really left the forest, have you? The same rules apply in the Capitol as they do in the wilderness: blend into your surroundings and if a predator spots you, pray to God they lose interest.

"Can I trust you, Finnick?" You ask in place of an answer, eyes locked on the crowd. Snow never said that you had to keep your arrangement to yourself, but it didn't hurt to be safe. You want to confide in him more than anything, but you need to be sure that Finnick won't trade your secret for another.

He straightens, sobering at your sudden seriousness. "Yeah. Yeah, of course."

You stare at him for a moment. You've talked to Finnick a handful of times and only had two meaningful conversations that didn't involve either of you flirting. By all means, you shouldn't trust him.

But you do. You really do.

You take him by the hand and pull him behind you, dodging socialites left and right, to a narrow corridor that nobody frequents. There are too many ears out there and the only people that walk down this hall are Avoxes. And it's not like they can tell anyone what they hear.

You stand across from each other, so close that your heels touch his boots when he leans against the wall. You open your mouth, hesitate, and close it.

Finnick pushes off the wall to touch your shoulder, leaning down to try to catch your eye. "What happened?"

You keep your gaze down; you don't know if you can stomach the look he'll give you when you tell him.

“Snow…” You trail off, losing steam fast. Finnick stiffens, his grip on your shoulder as tight as a corpse’s.

“What did Snow do?”

You launch into your explanation, starting with the letter you received and ending with the last question Snow asked you.

"And, when I agreed, he asked me if…if I was still a virgin. Apparently, there's a high demand for my first time." You pick at the skin around your nails, a habit your prep team admonished you for. Nothing pretty about bleeding, peeling fingers.

You bite the bullet and look up. His sea-green eyes are rocky and there's a grimace on his face. An angry tilt to his mouth, but that's it. No shock, no disgust, none of the emotions that this kind of revelation warrants. You take in his stance. He's tense, but he's not surprised. Almost as if he expected this.

"Finnick, are you...?" Your voice peters out lamely, unable to put words to what Snow is making you do, what you suspect he's been making Finnick do.

He rocks on his heels and lets out a slow puff of air from his nose. "Since I won my games."

You shake your head. That can't be right. "You were only fourteen."

"Only a select few in Snow's private circle could indulge in my services at first. But once I hit sixteen," he shrugs with a mean smile, "I was fair game." Of course. You had thought Finnick was handsome when he first won, in that passing way thirteen-year-olds often thought of others. Obviously, it was a shared consensus.

And Snow had said that he planned on speaking to you sooner—when you were younger. Stupid of you to think that he was swayed by something as trivial as morals.

"Who else is he forcing to do this?"

"You, me, and any other attractive victor with something to lose." The sleeves of his white blouse rub together as he crosses his arms, a sneer stretched on his pretty face. You're quiet. You think of Seeder. You think of Chaff and Haymitch. Cashmere and Gloss. You think of fourteen-year-old Finnick. You think of them in the same chair you were in, guns at their back and faced with an impossible task.

Were they as scared as you?

"I had thought...I thought that he wouldn't ask you," he looks at you with a gleam in his eyes that you recognize. It's the same one he had during that first dance. But you can distinguish it now because you feel it; he looks haunted, "Usually, he'd spring it on you as soon as you win, but he didn't with you, so I thought—I hoped…" He cuts himself off, staring over your shoulder. He bites his lip so hard you know it has to hurt.

You reach forward, using your thumb to pull his lip away from his teeth. He looks between your eyes for a second and you drop your hand. "Hoped what, Finnick?"

He clenches and unclenches his jaw. "I hoped you were safe." That's...you don't know what that is. Your heart is beating so fast you can feel it knocking against your ribcage. You lean your head back with a sigh. You close your eyes and resist the urge to rub at your chest. That's not supposed to happen. This isn't supposed to happen.

"It almost sounds like you care about me." You joke, voice wavering. You can't do this right now.

"I do," his arms drop beside him with another shrug, "I care about you." He says plainly, eyes locked on you. Evidently, he's not one to beat around the bush and, usually, you aren’t either. You don't say anything. Speechless is probably a better word for it. And then, he continues on like what he said isn't a revelation within itself.

"Snow says it's to ensure loyalty, and maybe that's true, but it's not the only reason. His goal, above all else, is to further drive the wedge between victors and the Capitol," he says, an echo of your first conversation, "We're not human, not to them. He made sure of that."

Neither of you talks, the silence heavy with the truth of that statement. You're well informed now, and you aren't alone in your imprisonment to Snow. You aren't sure what to do with that. It certainly doesn't make you feel better, and it doesn't change the fact that you only have two hours and forty minutes before your appointment.

Finnick must be able to feel the anxiety wafting off you in waves because he grabs your hand and…pinches the skin between your thumb and forefinger? "What the hell are you doing?" You half-heartedly tug at his grip, more out of reflex than anything else, but he holds on tight.

"It's a pressure point. You squeeze it when you're stressed or anxious—a trick I learned from Mags." He slides his thumb down to where the bone of your pointer finger meets your thumb and presses down. You both stand like that for at least ten seconds.

"...It hurts."

"It's supposed to," he laughs, soft lips pulled into a grin, "The pain, it's supposed to be distracting." It's definitely uncomfortable, but the only thing you're distracted by is his touch. You don't know if it's some kind of placebo effect or if this pressure point shit actually has some validity, but your heart doesn't feel like it'll beat through your ribs anymore.

Or, the third option. It has nothing to do with the pressure point and everything to do with the man in front of you. This close, his scent engulfs you. Saltwater and something sweet buried under it, a smell you're sure will still be caught in your nose long after you go home.

He digs in a pocket of his billowy pants and places a card in your hand.

"Here," it's the same as the one Snow gave you. The only difference is the name, the time, and the room number. 2064, "It's one of my regulars, so I don't need it." He states in such a nonchalant manner, it almost sounds normal to you.

"Regulars?" You frown before you can catch yourself. A seventeen-year-old shouldn't have regulars.

"Don't make that face. I don't need your pity. We're in the same boat, remember?" He asks, but it's one of those rhetorical questions that only have one answer.

"Right." At this point, the waves have capsized your boat. You're drowning, water filling your lungs, but at least you're drowning together.

"Look, he puts us all on the same floor." He's still holding your hand with both of his. Like it's something delicate, something worth being gentle with. Like it hasn't taken lives. "If you need me, you know where to find me." He offers with a tender squeeze of your hand. And, despite yourself, you believe him. If you need him, Finnick will be there.

A thought that's just as comforting as it is terrifying. He removes one of his hands from yours and thrusts it forward—correction, one of his pinkies forward in a gesture similar to the one you did months before. You only hesitate for a second before locking yours with his.

A silent promise.

“Any advice?”

“Advice,” he laughs, short and brittle, “Yeah. Just…breathe and endure. It’s all any of us can really do.” His voice is angry, but his eyes are mournful. That’s definitely not the kind of advice you wanted to hear and you can tell it’s obviously not the kind he wants to give. But what were you expecting, some kind of miracle cure? That’s not the way this works.

You could always just…disappear. If not physically, then mentally. A trick you picked up in Eleven when the grueling work days got especially long and—Finnick’s pinky is still locked with yours, you hadn’t even registered it. He doesn’t seem too nonplussed about the prolonged contact, quite the opposite, actually.

And, well, it's not like you're complaining

Present (iii) - Finnick

[23 & 24] - DISTRICT FOUR

The escort for District Four, Freesia Ashwind, stands before a rowdy crowd. Most, if not all, of the citizens, are excited to see who will represent them in the Games.

It makes him sick.

Finnick stares at the back of her magenta head and cracks his fingers behind him.

When Finnick was younger, he hated her. Out of all the names she could have picked, all the lives she could have ruined, she picked his. She inadvertently had a hand in the years of suffering he endured. And when he was fourteen, alone and hurting, blaming Snow wasn't enough.

It's different now. He's older and wiser, and he does still hate her, but no more than he hates every other Capitol. He tunes her out and tries to remember if he's had sex with her.

After preaching the same spiel she's said every year, she finally says something of substance.

"Now, normally, it's ladies first. However, since it's such a special occasion, how about we switch it up a bit?" The crowd roars, exhilarated, hanging on to her every word. He's sure she could recite the entire history of Panem and they'd cheer. District Four doesn't suck from the teat of the Capitol like One and Two do, but it's still a wealthy, Career district.

She approaches the bowl on her right instead of her left.

He stands alone as the sole male victor. There used to be three others, but they either drowned in their liquor or overdosed on their Morphling. Despite that, she makes a show of it. Swirling her hand around the empty bowl until she plucks the only paper out with a gasp, exaggerated in nature as most people of the Capitol are.

"Finnick Odair!” He doesn’t know what he was expecting. There—there was no other outcome. Still, he goes cold, heart growing heavy with reality sinking into it.

Finnick is a good actor. Maybe not the best, but he's certainly up there. Not many people could see through his veneer. It's fragile, cracks and instability on display to anyone who truly knows him—and even then, that's only three people.

Two of them stand beside him now, waiting to see where the sword will fall. And the other…Finnick waves to the cheering crowd with a closed-mouth smile.

The other is lost to him.

He plays up his enthusiasm, winking and waving. He dons the mask they chose for him: Golden boy of the Capitol, a born killer. Why wouldn't he be excited to get back in the ring? A couple more thoughts like that and maybe he'll start believing it.

"Ladies next!" A hush settles over the crowd. No one is excited to see this. He glances to his left. Annie is shaking as Mags holds onto her.

It's so quiet, Finnick can hear the tape tearing off the paper.

"Annie Cres—” Annie is screaming before Freesia even finishes. He faces forward, biting his cheeks to shit.

"Oh, it seems we have a volunteer!" He almost breaks his neck from turning so fast. Mags has her hand held high, gesturing to herself.

The crowd cheers, but this time they cheer for Mags's bravery. Finnick feels like crying.

As the cameras zoom in on them, he breaks protocol and goes to comfort her. He holds Mags close and kisses the top of her head. He's known her for most of his life and he's still surprised by her selflessness. She must know how high the deck is stacked against her. That, even with him beside her, the odds aren't in her favor. And she still volunteered. There's a reason you and her got along so well.

He looks at Annie. Her hands are over her ears and she stares back mournfully, more lucid than she's been in years. She makes to come towards them before she's intercepted and ushered off the stage like a sheep.

Finnick wonders who will take care of her with both of them gone. Annie may not be going into the arena, but this is just as much a death sentence for her as it is for them.

Right about now, the reaping for Eleven should be taking place.

Finnick knows Snow well, more than he'd ever admit. He knows, without a doubt, that he put Seeder's name in twice.

But there's a chance that he doesn't know you as well as he thinks he does. Two years is plenty of time for a person to change. God, he hopes he's wrong about you. He hopes you've grown mean and callous, and you wouldn't even think about trading your life for someone else's.

He hopes you're safe.

Peacekeepers approach. Far more cordial than they'd be with the lower districts, but still gripping their guns tight. "Right this way, Mr. Odair." One of them says. He and Mags follow after him, like pampered pigs to the slaughter.

Present (iii) - You

[23 & 24] - DISTRICT ELEVEN

You don't remember the walk to the stage. You've been out of it since the Quarter Quell was announced. You remember specific instances of Chaff forcing you and Seeder to train, your mother following you around like a shadow—and when you come to, it's to a sea of despondent faces. Every District Eleven resident, young and old, stands before you.

Argon Wellway is the same announcer Eleven has had for the past five years. His neon purple hair remains stiff despite the breeze. You've always loved purple. It's an odd dichotomy to see something you love on something you hate.

He steps to the mic, enthusiastic and jaunty despite the dour reception he receives from his audience.

"Hello, District Eleven! Are we excited for the Quarter Quell," he pauses with a wide smile, every tooth on display. The crowd stays silent, "Well, I certainly am. And so is everyone in the Capitol!"

He steps back, attitude impervious to everyone around him. "Now, for the men!"

You pity Chaff. He stands by himself on the left, bearing the weight of being the only male victor of Eleven. He never had a chance.

Argon approaches the bowl on the left like a magician, showy with big movements. He pulls the card out and stands by the mic. "Chaff Mitchell!"

Chaff doesn't move from where he stands, there's no point.

Seeder takes your hand and you squeeze back with numb fingers. You don't know where her kids are, the mass of people too big to pick out three children, but you look for them nonetheless. You wonder what they're feeling. You wonder what you’re feeling.

"On to the female victors. This one is especially exciting, a fifty-fifty chance!" There's not a wrinkle on his face as he smiles, skin too tight with Botox. It makes him look inhuman, fitting.

"Which one, which one," his fingers dance between the two cards inside the bowl, going back and forth like it was a guessing game and not someone's life on the line. He goes on like that longer than needed before deciding, "Aha! This one."

He steps back to the mic, tearing the tape off the back of the paper before announcing, "Seeder Howell!"

She is quiet, face twisted in an attempt to keep back tears. Her grip is crushing as if she's scared they will drag her away. And you move without putting much thought into the decision.

You raise your free hand and say, "I volunteer." You don't yell it, you don't need to.

Your mother lets out a shrill, throat-shredding scream, her voice only elevated by the silence surrounding it. This will be the last thing you hear from her.

Seeder holds on to your hand as you step forward, grip tight. There are tears in her eyes, lips trembling around words she doesn't have the strength to say.

"I know," And you do. As a mother, she's grateful, but as your mentor—well, "Let me do this for you." You say, but it isn't a request. You're going back into the arena whether she gives you her blessing or not. You can admit your reasons for volunteering aren't entirely selfless. You're going up against seasoned fighters, all prepared to do what it takes to survive.

But—you don't have to win. No one expects you to win and that...that thought is relieving. You aren't planning on rolling over in the arena and letting someone get a free kill, but this is something Snow won't be able to work around. No matter how hard he tries, he can't manipulate the outcome of the games. And he'll have no one to blame but himself, no one to punish. It's cowardice, in a way, but you're tired. And you think you've been tired for a long time now. You'd be stupid not to take this ticket out.

Most eyes pity you. You're essentially volunteering yourself to put your head under the executioner's sword. However, some eyes envy you. You're leaving Eleven. For good. For many of the citizens, death is a small price to pay for freedom. But there’s something else, something everyone in the crowd shares. There’s anger, a righteous fury in every face you see.

Is this the view your dad had? Are these the faces he saw before he was lynched?

You spot your mom a few rows back, someone holding her up. She's inconsolable. You take a moment to look at her for the last time. After you die, they'll make her move out of your house, but you know without asking that Seeder will take care of her.

"This is certainly a surprise! Very exciting," Argon grabs the stump of Chaff's right arm and the wrist of your left, lifting them into the air, "We have our tributes!"

No one claps. You don't expect them to.

Things move pretty quickly after that. You're given no time to say goodbye. No time to try and run.

Peacekeepers approach and the hands that grab you are rough with their treatment, dragging you and Chaff in the direction of the train.

There'll be many victors facing the guillotine, many of your friends forced into a death march.

You look to the sky, a quick glance before you're ushered to the train. It's a sunny day with plump white clouds on a baby blue backdrop. It might be the last time you see the real sky as a free woman. Calm and beautiful despite the carnage happening under it.

You close your eyes for a moment and think. For the first time in almost two years, you'll see Finnick.

#catching fire #hunger games catching fire #hunger games fanfiction #thg #finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #finnick x reader #finnick odair fanfic #and they'd find us in a week

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bubbleguppyyy · 5 months

Text

Encapsulated in Time

Bucky x Fem! reader

>Here's some angst :)<

Story Synopsis: Bucky knew something was missing from his memories. Something important, something special. He had tried everything to try and recover what it was, but he never could grasp anything. However, he never expected to find those missing memories in a file and an old box of videotapes

Bucky wasn't quite sure how much he enjoyed the life of the Avengers.

Steve was always there for him of course and he continuously checked on Bucky even after he would say he was perfectly fine.

They both knew he wasn't.

Bucky didn't like missions as much as Natasha or Tony did but he still went on them to try and be a part of the team, or something like that.

Steve always told him that he didn't have to. He had a choice now. He could say no, but Bucky still wasn't sure how to do that. How did he make decisions on his own?

Bucky slowly started making friends with everyone (Sam was taking some time). He bonded with Natasha over knives and even with Bruce over yoga classes to soothe anger.

But, he couldn't help but feel something very big was missing from his memory. Bucky remembered a lot of his missions and times when he happened to snap out of the soldier. There were these feelings he couldn't quite place. Longing? Anguish? Why was he feeling these emotions? And why did they come along with the scent of Rosemary?

When the Avengers decided to take a day off, they were hoping not to hear from Fury. Of course, they knew that the man would probably call later tonight with a mission but they certainly did not expect him to walk into the compound with an old box and a file.

"Barnes, I thought I would deliver these myself. Be thankful because my team almost threw them away." Fury set the box on the coffee table in the middle of the common room and gave the file to Bucky.

He held the file, dumbfounded. Bucky had no idea what Fury was talking about. They almost threw what away?

"I can tell you have no idea what I'm talking about. Good thing I saved these. Anyway, as we know, you disappeared from Hydra roughly around 1973 to 1978."

Bucky gave a look to Steve, silently asking if he knew what this was about. Steve shrugged, also looking very confused.

"Fury, why don't you just get to the point?" Natasha asks, trying to seem nonchalant but by the way she's twirling that knife, she's also intrigued.

"I agree with the Widow, Fury. We're all dying to know what's in the box."

Tony is leaning on the armrest of the couch, sipping on a glass of his expensive whiskey. He's grinning at Fury's annoyed look at all of them.

Fury sighs, "I had some agents looking into some things in Greece and they happened to find the box in an old apartment building. The owner said that she remembered you and that she always kept your stuff, hoping you'd come back by to get it."

A flash of a small, middle-aged woman that smelled of butterscotch and had a smile like the sun goes through Bucky's head. He can almost feel the breeze coming from the open windows, the sheer curtains flowing with it.

"I think you should just look in the box yourself, Barnes. Let the memories come back slowly."

With that, Fury quickly left, mumbling about how he needs to find someone to work on patience with the Avengers.

Bucky blankly stared at the file in his hands. He was almost afraid of what he would find. A feeling of dread runs through him and he wants to throw up. He can't remember anything but it's almost like his body knows that whatever is in this file and box, it's going to ruin him.

Steve sits next to Bucky, watching his reaction.

"You don't have to open it right now Buck. You can take some time to process if you'd like. We can leave the room." Steve looked at everyone, hoping they would get the hint, but none of them did. They were too curious.

Bucky just shook his head and swallowed the bile in his throat. He would rather have his friends there. He wasn't sure how he was about to handle this.

Bucky grabbed the edge of the file, preparing to open it. Everyone was on the edge of their seats. This would explain so much to Bucky.

He took and deep breath and opened it.

The first thing he saw was a picture of you, smiling as you rested your head on your palm. The sound of your laugh rang in Bucky's ears, the scent of Rosemary filling his nose. Your name was next, he remembered saying it over and over again, just because he liked the sound of it. Your birthday was next and then-

Status: Deceased. Executed by The Winter Soldier.

>Should I make a part 2?<

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #the avengers #winter soldier #steve rogers #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #fanfic #fiction #oneshot #maybe

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oh-stars · 2 months

Text

Tally Marks

Assumption

a Stobin Month 2024 prompt | 851 words | CW: N/A | Rating: G

Eddie waits at the edge of the Rom-Com aisle as Steve finishes ringing up Mrs. Jenkins.

“These are due next Friday,” Steve reminds her as he slides over the tapes, “so you’ll have to come back and see me.”

Mrs. Jenkins takes the tapes and smiles, looking a little flustered as she bats her eyes at him. She’s old enough to be Steve’s great grandmother, but it’s kind of sweet his boyfriend has this power over people. He should probably hate Steve’s instinctive need to flirt with the customers (and everyone else he meets) but he knows Steve doesn’t know any different. To him, he’s just being polite and working his charm (snaps and all) to make someone’s day, even though everyone else can clearly see he’s being a flirt.

Eddie’s fine with it. For the most part.

Robin pushes her cart behind the counter and walks around to the computer, pushing Steve out the way. “Are you setting up a hot date with Mrs. Jenkins in our place of work, Steven?”

Steve shrugs, tossing Mrs. Jenkins a wink. “What can I say? I can’t help myself around beautiful women, you know that.”

Mrs. Jenkins waves him off. “You’re too much, Steve,” she says, cheeks rosy.

“Let me help you to your car,” Steve says as he quickly rounds the counter to take her arm in his. “A pretty lady like you shouldn’t have to open the doors for herself.”

“Robin, dear,” Mrs. Jenkins says as she and Steve start to take small steps toward the door. “You keep an eye on this one. He’s a keeper and you’re mighty lucky to call him yours.”

Steve’s eyes find Eddie’s, lips pressed together in a smirk. “Now who’s being too much?”

Mrs. Jenkins laughs and together, they walk to the door, where Steve holds it open for her.

As the door shuts behind them, Eddie steps out from the aisle to watch Steve help her into her car and make sure she’s settled. “Does he do that a lot?” he asks.

Robin’s busy pulling something out from under the counter. “Flirt? Eddie, you’ve met him–”

“No, no,” Eddie says as he takes his rightful place against the counter. “The whole walking her to the car song and dance.”

“Only with our more senior customers,” Robin says as she uncaps a marker, a whiteboard now lying on the counter in front of her. “And the ones who give him candy for his trouble.”

She’s marking a tally among a long line of them across the top of the board when Steve walks back in.

“Butterscotch?” he asks, offering the handful of them he’s holding. Something clinks against his teeth – Eddie tracks the movement to see Steve playing with one already in his mouth. This man has no right making hard candies attractive at ten o’clock in the morning.

Eddie plucks one out of his hand as Steve sets the rest against the computer’s base. “What’s with the tallies?”

Steve peers over the counter to see Robin’s board, which she is counting the tallies repeatedly and comparing it to the two numbers at the bottom of the board. “Only two more days, right?”

“Yup,” she says, “and so far, I'm the closest.”

“That’s so not fair.”

“How? There’s no skill in guessing a number–”

“You’ve got a freaky third sense–”

“Sixth sense,” Eddie and Robin say at the same time. “

Steve rolls his eyes. “I’m not losing.”

Robin sucks in a breath through her teeth. “I hate to break it to you, Steve, but I think you are.”

“What are you losing?” Eddie asks.

Steve sighs and presses their shoulders together. “We have a bet going to see who can get closer to the number of people that assume Robbie and I are dating.”

“And so far, I’m only three off and Steve’s five.”

“That’s so close!”

“But no cigar,” Robin says with a grin as she puts the board and marker away.

“Two days is a lot of time,” Steve says. “I think I can get five people to assume we’re dating.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says with a snort, “like you two have any problems in that department.”

Steve smirks. “And then,” he says with a little trill to his voice, “Rob will have to buy me lunch for once.”

“In your dreams, Harrington.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, but he can’t help the smile that threatens to break anyway. God, he loves these idiots.

Robin turns to him, unimpressed. “Don’t you have a shift to get to?”

He glances down at his watch and– “Shit. I’ll see you later.” Eddie chances a quick kiss to Steve’s cheek and tosses a wave over his shoulder as he heads out of Family Video, starting the mighty long journey of walking next door to the Arcade for his shift. What he wouldn’t give to have coworkers half as fun as the two of them, but alas, it’s just Eddie during the day shifts at the Arcade, so he’ll have to have his own fun. Or hope Steve comes to bother him on his break. Whichever comes first.

Thank you @lady-lostmind for beta reading!

Ao3 Link

#ohstars fic #steve harrington #stranger things #robin buckley #stobin month 2024 #ohstars posting challenge #platonic soulmates stobin #platonic stobin #stobin #steddie fic #eddie munson

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maracujatangerine · 4 months

Text

The Gift Exchange, part 1

CW: institutionalised slavery, pet whump, dehumanisation

“Miss Lydia, Miss Lydia, what do you think about this?.”

Coriander jogged into the kitchen, brandishing a roll of wrapping paper patterned with abstract swirls in silver and dark green. The silver accents glittered in the pale winter morning sunlight falling in through the windows.

“It is really pretty!” Miss Lydia smiled, brown eyes warm. “Good choice, Cory!”

The blonde pet ducked his head, but smiled back from underneath his bangs. He wore a soft, green sweater with leather patches on the elbows that matched his chestnut trousers.

Lydia was dressed in a dark grey, knitted dress with red leggings. She leaned over the table to move the pot with the red and white amaryllis out of the way.

“Should we wrap everything into one present, or should we wrap each gift separately, do you think?”

“T-this pet thinks we should w-wrap one gift for Colton and one for Linden, b-but that all their gifts can be wrapped together.”

“That’s a good idea, let’s do that.”

Coriander spread out several seed packages on the table and studied them thoughtfully. Closest to Lydia was a packet with a picture of lush, green sugar snap peas labelled: ‘Mangetout, pea seeds 'Norli' ORGANIC’. Then, there were two packets both marked ‘Thunbergia alata, Black-eyed Susan’, the first one called ‘African Sunset’ in shades of red and apricot, the second one ‘Alba Oculata’ in brilliant white. The final was a handwritten envelope simply marked in Cory’s neat handwriting: ‘Chili, mix’.

“Are you happy with those seeds?”

“Y-yes, Miss Lydia. C-Colton will be able to grow them on the balcony, and i-it will be fun that we both can try to grow the same seeds. P-perhaps we can compare notes.”

Cory gathered the seed packets and tied them together with a neat red bow. Meanwhile, Lydia grabbed a hardback book. The blue dust jacket had brightly coloured leaves scattered all over the cover. The title stood out in bright white: When we were birds, by Ayanna Lloyd Banwo.

Opening the book, she wrote on the inside of the cover. ‘To Linden. Merry Christmas and best wishes for the new year.’ Signing it, she handed it over to Coriander to add his name too.

“‘It is a bit of a risky gift,” she admitted to Cory, “since I haven’t read the book yet, but it seems so good. I got a copy for myself too, and I hope I will get the chance to read it over the holidays.”

They added two bags of homemade butterscotch candy in green paper cups, and two reused milk cartoons filled with gingerbread cookies, the result of last night’s baking spree.

Lydia and Cory put their joint efforts into wrapping the gifts into two neat packages. The dark, red ribbon a nice contrast to the green and silver wrapping paper.

“Let’s go for a walk and send it off this afternoon.” Coriander nodded.

“Y-yes, Miss Lydia.”

Linden wiggled the pen between his thumb and index finger, deep in thought. Leaning back in his kitchen chair, he looked over at Colton, who was working diligently at the end of the table. With wholly unbroken concentration, he was pulling strips of sellotape from the dispenser and sticking them in a neat row along the table’s wooden edge. When Linden had done the altogether far more fiddly task of wrapping a gift up, Col could pluck a pre-cut piece of tape and stick it in place. It was, as Linden had said about fifty times, excellent teamwork.

“Hey, Col, have you ever seen this before?” Linden asked, lifting his hand for Col to see. With the pen held right in its middle, Linden wiggled it gently, until it looked as if the pen was bending at the edges.

Col’s eyebrows twitched, and for a beautiful second Linden thought he was going to burst out laughing. Instead, his mouth curved upwards into a tiny smile. “Yes, Sir. I have.”

“Ah, not too impressive then. Haha, no matter.”

“Do you need any tape for the envelope, Sir?” Col asked, eyeing the Christmas card laid out in front of Linden.

“In a second… I’m just trying to figure something out.”

“Ah, okay, Sir.”

Col took another breath, as if to speak, then stopped himself. Linden prided himself on reading Col well enough by now to know that it was because he wanted to ask a question. Probably what are you trying to figure out?

“I’ve written my part of Lydia and Cory’s card, but I’m not sure how to do yours. I’m not going to make you try and hold a pen. I was thinking - do you want to just dictate it? It doesn’t have to be much, just a little festive greeting sort of thing. I can be your text-to-speech robot.”

Linden was always cheery around Christmas time. Something about winter setting in, dark and long and rainy, and then being cut through by glittering lights, gifts and music. Today, he felt like he was on a veritable warpath to make Col smile.

“That sounds good, Sir… I can do that.”

“Great!” Linden said, overjoyed that Colton hadn’t taken issue with the idea of ‘dictating’ something to his owner, hadn’t overthought any possible rule-breaking that could come with speaking and forcing his Master to write it all down. “And instead of you signing the card the normal way, I thought you could do a fingerprint?”

“That’s a good idea, Sir, thank you for c-”

“Wait, no!” Linden said, making Col flinch. “Sorry, I’m sorry love. I just realised. We’ll both do our fingerprints. That’ll be nice. Then we’re the same.”

There it was again, the coveted half-smile. Col’s cheeks glowed. “Thank you, Sir, that’s really kind. I think- I, uh…”

“Go on,” Linden said warmly. “I want to hear what you think.”

“I think Lydia and Cory will like that, Sir.”

“I agree. Now, here’s what I’ve written.”

Linden pushed the card over. He’d written a short message making light of the strange way they first crossed paths, saying how glad he now was to know the both of them, wishing them a peaceful and happy holiday. He waited patiently as Colton gave his message some thought, then wrote it down exactly as dictated on the left hand side of the card.

Linden found some stamp ink in the back of a drawer, and the two of them rolled their index fingers in it until they could leave two bold prints, one below each message.

Once the card was sealed, it was time for the gifts. Lydia’s gift was a specially-made book embosser, which had EX LIBRIS - LYDIA WINTERTHORPE printed onto it. The embosser itself was a satisfying, weighty thing, and Linden hoped she’d get great pleasure out of stamping all of her most beloved books.

Cory’s gift was also a bespoke item: a brass door sign with his name, Coriander, printed on it. It had ornate rounded corners which gave the thing a rustic, rather stately look, and although Linden had never seen Lydia’s house he guessed it would fit right in. He had run the gift idea past Col first - would a pet such as Cory be okay with claiming the bedroom as his in this way? Col had given it a fair share of thought, ultimately telling Linden, in a way that sounded more like a sinful confession, that Cory would like it very much.

The two men performed their well-honed wrapping ritual, with Col sticking down the final piece of tape with a flourish.

This is a collaboration between @whumpzone and @maracujatangerine.

We would like to wish you all a Merry Christmas!

Tag List Part 1: @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-em @wh-wh-whu @neuro-whump @carnagecardinal @cowboy-anon @whump-me-all-night-long @redwingedwhump @myst-in-the-mirror @haro-whumps @eatyourdamnpears @bloodsweatandpotato @pinkraindropsfell @whumptywhumpdump @theydy-cringeworthy @whump-in-progress @whumpsy-daisy @nicolepascaline @whumpcreations @briars7 @shiningstarofwinter @whumppsychology @alex-ember @miss-kitty-whumptastic @whumpy-writings @in-patient-princess @youtube-fandoms-bands @goblinchildindabog @mazeish @distinctlywhumpthing @inpainandsuffering @canniboylism @icannotweave @incoherent-introspection @kim-poce @broken-typewriter @the-monarch-whumperfly @whumpers-inc @grizzlie70 @lil-whumper @writingbackwards-blog @sunflower1000 @wingedwhump @thecitythatdoesntsleep @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @onlybadendings @rabass @wolfeyedwitch @melancholy-in-the-morning

#lydia and linden #lydia and coriander #linden and colton #whump fic #pet whump #pet whumpee #bbu #box boy universe #box boy multiverse #box boy whump #writers on tumblr #original writing #christmas whump #chirstmas

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xoxoladyaz · 10 months

Text

I'm Gonna Getcha Good

(Female Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson, Canon Divergence, Originally published on AO3)

A/N: I'm hoping to have updates for the Paramedic series and the final installment of "It Hits Different" up this weekend, but until then, enjoy part one of my series in which Stevie Harrington is just as obsessed with Eddie as he is with her!

“This is getting really sad, Harrington.”

Robin’s voice snaps Stevie out of her stupor, causing her to drop her ice cream scooper on the ground for the third time that day. Shit.

“I mean, seriously, Eddie Munson?”

“I know,” she groans, sparing one last look out into the food court. Eddie didn’t come to Starcourt all that often, but he usually parked himself next to the Jamba Juice with his friends when he did, which meant that Stephanie got to ogle him for the approximate fifteen minutes it took for him to slurp down his smoothie.

“Like, if there’s anyone out there who hates your guts more than me, it’s him,” Robin continues, disbelief coloring her words.

Stevie shut her eyes and exhaled sharply. It’s fine. She’s fine. “I know, Robin.”

“I mean, even if he was into preps, your friends made his life a living hell.” While Stevie normally enjoys listening to whatever Robin feels like rambling about – even though Robin has made it clear that she’s definitely not Stevie’s number one fan – she really, really doesn’t want to have to listen to this. “I’m just saying, maybe you should aim lower. I think Jim the janitor is looking for wife number three.”

Stevie slams her now dirty ice cream scooper into the wash bucket behind the counter with more force than she probably needed to use. Whatever, it shuts Buckley up, and when Stevie declares that she’s going to take the trash out, she doesn’t argue.

By the time Stevie is back in from her errands, Eddie and his friends are long gone.

/////

“Here.”

Stevie glances up from her packed lunch – leftover pizza for the second day in the row because she hasn’t had the energy to cook anything recently and just keeps ordering takeout – to see a sheepish looking Robin Buckley sliding a cup of USS Butterscotch across the small break table towards her.

“What is this?”

“It’s a genuine ‘I’m-sorry-for-being-a-bitch’ sundae.” Robin settles into the chair across from her, still looking a little peaky. “I, uh, definitely went a bit too far yesterday, and I made you upset and I get it, I mean, I’d be upset if someone made fun of me for who I like, and I didn’t know that you really liked him but I should have known because every time he shows up you get these big puppy dog eyes and - ”

“Robin, Robin, stop!” Stevie drops her pizza and holds up her hands. Robin cuts off and flushes bright red. “It’s okay. Really. Besides, if there’s anyone who deserves it, it’s me.”

“I don’t know, Harrington,” Robin replies slowly, and there’s a glimmer in her eyes that Stevie hasn’t seen before. “You keep doing things that sort of blow my mind. I think I might even be starting to like you.”

Stevie can’t help herself from smiling, nor can she stop the snort that leaves her throat. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay? Do you want me to call a doctor?”

“Ha ha, you’re hilarious.” Robin rolls her eyes, but she offers her a small smile in return. “Seriously though, Eddie Munson? Like, have you ever even talked to him?”

“Honestly,” Stevie reaches for her sundae and starts digging in, “I didn’t really notice him until after I graduated.”

“Really?” Robin scoffs. “He’s kind of hard to miss.”

Stevie shrugs. “I don’t know, I didn’t really care about anyone outside of Tommy and Carol when I was friends with them, and then after Barb died I felt like I was barely able to care about myself.”

Robin doesn’t say anything, so Stevie pulls her gaze away from her quickly diminishing sundae and towards her coworker. “What?”

“Are you, I don’t know, are you okay?”

Stevie feels herself relax which, huh, she didn’t even know she was tense. “I think so. Graduating helped. Finally getting away from Tommy and Carol and Billy Hargrove helped. Deciding to go to cosmetology school helped. And the kids - ” Stevie breaks off with a fond laugh, “the kids help a lot too.”

“Huh.” Robin is still just sort of looking at her, and that glimmer in her eyes is brighter. “Well, I’m jealous you got out of there. I still have a year left.”

“Ehh, you’ll have a better senior year than I did,” Stevie shrugs again.

“Seeing as Billy Hargrove isn’t obsessed with me, yeah, you’re probably right.”

“Just break a plate on his head, that’ll fix that.”

Now Robin’s eyes are so wide, they’re practically popping out of her head. “What?!”

Stevie bursts into laughter and yeah, Stevie thinks she’s starting to like Robin Buckley.

/////

“I still don’t get it.”

It’s been nine days since Stevie’s last Eddie Munson sighting and eight days since Robin and Stevie made up over some USS Butterscotch, and this time when Eddie and his friends sprawl around their usual table, Robin joins Stevie in her watching.

“Did you have some sort of awakening after watching The Breakfast Club or something?”

Stevie frowns, but she doesn’t pull her eyes away from Eddie. “What breakfast club?”

“You haven’t seen – no, you know what, I’m not going to let you change the subject this time. Why Eddie Munson?”

Eddie throws his head back, laughing wildly, and Stevie is suddenly wildly jealous that she’s not the one sitting at the table making him laugh.

“Stevie. Dingus.” Robin jabs her in the side and Stevie hisses but it’s a success, she’s paying attention to Robin now. “Why. Eddie. Munson.”

“I just – I don’t know,” Stevie sighs, rubbing her now sore ribcage, thank you Robin Buckley. “He just so alive and outgoing and real. And I dunno, I think it’s kind of sweet that he adopts all the weird loner kids at school, and I like his curly hair and his leather jacket - ”

“Stevie.”

“ – and that weird jean jacket vest thing that he always wears, and the rings on his hands, and his hands, his hands are huge and did you know that he can play the guitar because apparently he can play the guitar, I saw his friend putting up a sign for some band that he’s in - ”

“Stevie.”

“ – and he has such pretty eyes and a gorgeous smile and God his arms, have you seen his arms when he rolls his sleeves up - ”

“STEVIE.”

“ – and I want to drink smoothies with him and go to the movies with him and make out in his crappy van with him and then take him home and tie him to my - ”

“STEVIE!” Robin shrieks, smacking her hand across Stevie’s mouth, and it’s loud enough to draw the attention of the sophomores passing by the shop. Robin waves along with her other hand, and they shoot the pair weird looks, but they move past.

“First of all,” Robin finally says as she drops her hands from Stevie’s mouth, “never talk to me about the disgusting sex you want to have with Eddie Munson ever again, I will have literal nightmares about what you told me.”

“But - ”

“NIGHTMARES, Harrington! And second of all, Christ, I knew you had it bad, but I didn’t know you had it that bad.”

Stevie can feel herself blushing bright, bright red. “No I don’t.”

Robin just blinks at her. “Oh, really?”

“Really.”

“So you’d be able to talk to him like a normal person then?”

Stevie nods even though on the inside she is screaming NO NOPE NO WAY ABSOLUTELY NOT.

“Great, because he’s coming in here.”

Apparently her flight instincts don’t kick in when fighting interdimensional monsters, but they do kick in when Eddie Munson is within talking distance, because she’s dropping onto the floor and crawling underneath the counter before she can realize that’s precisely what she’s doing.

“Uh huh. Totally normal.” Stevie glances up at Robin and yep, Robin looks about as unimpressed as her tone. “I lied, by the way. He and his friends just left the food court.”

“Blergh.” Stevie knocks her head back against the counter and sighs. Robin shows her mercy, though, and lets her sit there and recover for five minutes until the kids come charging in, wanting Stevie to let them sneak into another movie which she does because she’s a pushover. Worrying about the kids is enough to get Eddie Munson off her mind, at least for now.

/////

If cosmetology school doesn’t end up working out, maybe Stevie should join the secret service or something because hey, she’s really good at surviving Russian torture. She can almost imagine the look on her father’s face if she added that to the resumé he continuously tailors on her behalf. Suck it, Dad.

(She might be a little high still.)

“I’d be a great secret agent,” she tells Robin, although Robin is still puking her guts up in the toilet next to her and probably isn’t listening. “Like James Bond. And Henderson could be Q!”

“Ugh,” Robin finally moans, “how do you know James Bond characters well enough to name them?”

“Uh, because my dad is obsessed with the movies, they’re, like, the only thing he watches when he’s home.”

“That sounds awful.”

“Ehh, Sean Connery is sort of hot. I like his accent.”

Robin makes a fake retching sound. “That is the worst thing you’ve ever said, ever.”

“Oh come on, are you telling me Connery doesn’t do it for you at least a little bit?”

“First of all,” Robin snorts, “he’s old enough to be my father, and second of all no, he doesn’t do it for me. I’m more of a Honey Ryder girl,” Robin sighs out, and then she falls quiet, too quiet.

Oh.

“Well,” Stevie starts slowly, because she only has one shot at this, “your opinion is definitely wrong, because Solitaire is obviously the better choice.”

Robin sputters, and then she’s laughing, and Stevie tucks and rolls underneath the stall until she’s sitting across from Robin, and then they’re both laughing.

“Are you seriously arguing with the lesbian, dingus? Honey Ryder in that bikini is so fucking hot!”

“Uh, yeah, but she’s no Jane fucking Seymour, Robin!”

/////

Russian torture definitely sucks, but Stevie emerges on the other side with Robin Buckley as a best friend, and for Robin? She’d be tortured by a million Russians.

She’s really glad Robin is there in the aftermath. She’s a good distraction, goading Stevie into more arguments about James Bond and Bond girls and other movies when they finally run out of Bond films to talk about, and having Robin’s voice fill up the silence helps, especially on those nights when she can’t fall asleep without seeing Billy Hargrove’s corpse, or seeing the look on El’s face when she finds out that the chief isn’t coming back this time.

She doesn’t miss the mall. She doesn’t miss Scoops and its shitty customers and its even shittier uniform. She doesn’t miss Robin, because they’re working at Family Video together every day now. But in those moments where she lets herself not feel guilty for missing anything at the mall – which are few and far between, because everything has been tainted by Russians and by death – she lets herself miss the time she spent watching Eddie Munson from afar.

But then one day, Dustin Henderson walks into Family Video wearing a familiar baseball-styled tee, emblazoned with a large demon, and suddenly her days of watching Eddie Munson from afar are back, and it’s all going to be totally fine.

/////

It is not totally fine.

It is not totally fine, because now that Dustin and Mike and Lucas are in Eddie’s little club, they will not stop talking about it. More specifically, they will not stop talking about Eddie, and how cool he is, and how awesome his hair is, and did you know he’s in a band and he can play the guitar, Stevie, why don’t you play the guitarand he listens to metal music and it’s the coolest shit ever, stop telling me not to swear Stevie, you’re not my mom and Eddie’s really smart, actually, he’s just too smart for the school system and Eddie just wrote the most incredible campaign Stevie, you should have been there, and Stevie is about three seconds away from pulling her perfectly coiffed hair out of her head.

“Is this revenge?” Stevie moans, her face buried in the pile of recent returns.

“Yes, and it is so, so sweet,” Robin sings happily from behind her.

“ – was actually a lich the entire time – are you even listening?” Henderson’s outraged voice squawks from across the counter. Stevie sighs and forces herself to look over at him.

“Yeah, yeah, something about a barhop – ”

“Barkeep - ”

“ – and it turns out he was a witch the whole time?”

“ – a lich, Stevie, a lich – God, why am I even trying? Eddie was right, he said you’d never be able to appreciate the intricate world of D&D!”

Stevie feels herself gape at Dustin, because not only is apparently Dustin Henderson talking with Eddie about her, Eddie apparently doesn’t think she can appreciate D&D? Which, he’s not totally wrong, there are a lot of rules and things she doesn’t understand and she’s really bad at words, which Robin says is because she’s dyslexic, but she does actually try to understand what Dustin is talking about. It just – it makes her stomach feel icky, knowing that whatever Eddie said probably isn’t as nice as what Dustin said, and Dustin is rarely nice when he’s in one of his moods.

Robin, bless her, is apparently offended on Stevie’s behalf, and so she steps up to the plate when it becomes clear that Stevie is speechless. “Please tell Munson that he can judge other people’s capacity for decoding nonsense when he’s going to school full time and has an actual job.”

“And migraines,” Stevie adds in. “Lots of migraines.”

Dustin, at least, manages to look a little sheepish. “Sorry, Stevie. It’s just really exciting to be in Hellfire right now!”

“I know.” Stevie manages her best fond smile, even though she still feels unsettled on the inside. “I’m really happy for you, Henderson. So, how did you fight the lich?”

/////

The thing with Dustin Henderson is if you give him an inch, he’ll take forty-thousand miles, so now Stevie is treated to an hour-long play by play after every single Hellfire session wherein Dustin praises Eddie’s genius and how hard and intense the game is and you should really give it a chance, Stevie.

“Henderson,” Stevie finally cuts him off one Saturday morning. He’s cornered her behind the counter at Family Video after instructing Mike and Lucas to pick a good movie for once in their goddamn lives. Robin abandoned her to trail after the boys (traitor), and after twenty minutes of Dustin talking about the wondrous biology of acid frogs, Stevie’s patience is wearing thin. “I love you. You’re the son I never had.”

“You’re nineteen.”

“Exactly,” she nods, “the son I never had. But if I hear another word about the many uses of an acid toad’s bowel movements - ”

“Acid frog Stevie, weren’t you listening?!”

“ – I am going to lose my mind,” Stevie finishes calmly. (Much more calmly than the situation warranted, in her opinion.)

“This is important information, Stevie!”

“Dustin, how is this possibly important information?”

The bell above the door rings, signaling a customer has entered, but Robin greets them before Stevie gets a chance to. (Not that Dustin would give her the chance to, judging by how furrowed his brow is. He only gets that annoyed little squiggle in the center of his forehead when he’s about to launch into his most passionate speeches.)

“Because these are important things to know, Stevie!”

“Okay, Dustin, I hate to break it to you, but acid frogs aren’t real.”

Dustin snorts. “That’s not true, actually, the acid frogs of Eastern Australia are an endangered species - ”

“You know that’s not what I mean, Dustin!” Stevie throws her hands up in the air. “Your fantasy acid frogs aren’t real.”

“Don’t waste your breath, Henderson,” a nice voice speaks from behind Dustin. Dustin grins at the sound and turns to face the speaker. Stevie, meanwhile, freezes in place, a shiver running up her spine. “Such truths are wasted on the unenlightened.”

Eddie Munson strolls up to the counter, dropping his hand on Dustin’s shoulder and shooting her an icy smirk. “Well, well. If it isn’t the former Queen of Hawkins High. How does it feel to be one of the common folk, your majesty?”

A pair of snorts (coming from a pair of boys in matching Hellfire shirts whose names she can’t recall) trail Eddie’s proclamation, followed by Mike’s laughter from the back of the store. Dustin, the traitor, just shoots Stevie a smug grin.

(And look, she’s not panicking, okay? She’s not. It’s just that this is the first time that she’s ever talked to Eddie Munson, at least in recent memory, and it’s already off to kind of a bad start, and honestly he’s being kind of an asshole right now but ugh she still likes him and wants this to go well, why does she care so much about wanting this to go well?

Breathe, breaths, in, out. Robin rounds the corner and shoots her a worried look, but Stevie just shakes her head. She’s turned worse situations around. She can do this.)

“I don’t think there’s anything common about you, Munson,” Stevie replies, shifting her weight forward onto her right foot so now she’s leaning forward. “But I’m doing pretty well today. Or I was, until someone,” she glances quickly at Dustin before looking back at Eddie, “decided to spend fifteen minutes teaching me the seven best uses for acid frog excrement.”

“It was disgusting,” Robin chimes in as she joins Stevie behind the counter. “And also a little bit concerning, if I’m being totally honest. Like, that’s a lot of time to spend thinking about fake frog turds.”

Eddie blinks at them once, twice, before the smirk falls off his face and he collapses forward with a groan, removing his hand from Dustin’s shoulder so he can drop his head into it instead. “Really, Henderson? Has our kind not suffered enough?”

Dustin huffs out a breath. “It’s important information!”

“And I’m truly honored that you want to share it with me. I am,” Stevie cuts him off before he can continue. “I love our mother-son bonding time.”

“I’m not your son.”

“But I think I’ll go to your father if I have any questions about DND in the future, okay?” Stevie finishes, and she can barely stop herself from grinning, especially when she starts to hear Robin choke behind her.

Dustin just looks confused now. “My father?”

“Yep.” Stevie lets herself grin now and returns her gaze to Eddie Munson, who’s looking over at her now with a confused expression on his face. “Which reminds me, what’s the difference between wizards and sorcerers again? I can never keep it straight.”

Eddie drops his hand and gapes at her. Like, his jaw is practically on the ground. He backs up, away from the store counter and spins around once to look behind him (at his friends, who are also looking equally confused) before turning back around. “I’m sorry, are you – me?”

Stevie shifts closer to him, resting her chin on her hand so she’s gazing up at him. “I don’t see any other dungeon masters around here, do you?”

“What is happening right now,” Dustin murmurs out, and it’s not quite a question or a statement.

“Go play with your friends, Henderson, Mommy and Daddy are talking.”

“I – Mommy and Daddy?!” And now Henderson is shrieking, and Mike is poking his head out from behind the stacks to shoot them a glare, and Robin is trying really hard to cover up her laugh with her cough, and Eddie? Eddie is flushed bright red and just staring at her.

“So, yeah, wizards and sorcerers. I know there’s a difference, I can just never keep them straight. And since Dustin says you know the most about DND out of anyone, I might as well take lessons from the best, huh?”

“Oh my God. Oh my GOD!” Dustin is practically shrieking, and then Robin’s running around the counter and pulling him towards Mike and Lucas, ignoring his protesting.

“I – you – what? What?!” Now it’s Eddie’s turn to squawk.

“Also, I’m really glad you came in today. I mean, it probably was for a movie because, you know, Family Video,” Stevie waves her free hand around, “but I’ve been waiting for an opportunity like this to come up.”

“An opportunity for what?” Eddie parrots back slowly.

“To flirt with you, obviously.”

“Obviously – obviously? Obviously?!”

“Yeah, obviously. I didn’t get a chance at the mall because you never came into Scoops,” and okay, she wasn’t planning on laying it all out on the line here, but Eddie’s looking increasingly like he’s two seconds away from running and she’d really prefer it if he at least believed her when he ran away, “which was annoying because our ice cream was way better than Jamba Juice anyways - ”

“What?”

“ – and the kids have been talking about you non-stop for the last three months, and it really means a lot that you took them under your wing, and, I mean, I already thought you were hot - ”

“WHAT?!”

“ – and judging by the handcuffs on your belt, I think it’s safe to say we have things in common outside of the kids. And I might not be like naturally interested in DND or whatever, but I’d let you be my dungeon master anytime,” she finishes with a wink and yep, she broke him. He’s frozen and flushed she really, really wants to see just how far down that blush goes.

The taller of his friends – Jeff, that’s his name – walks forward and grabs Eddie’s arm. “This isn’t some sort of joke, right?”

“Nope!” Robin calls out before sliding to a stop in front of the counter. “She’s been crushing on him for months. It’s honestly been sort of pathetic.”

“Gee, thanks Robin,” Stevie rolls her eyes. Reaching for a nearby receipt, Stevie grabs a pen and quickly scribbles her number on the back. “Here’s my number. I’m home most nights after seven and I have every other weekend free. Make sure he calls me if he’s interested,” she finishes up with a click of her pen, and then she’s passing the phone number to Jeff.

Jeff smiles at her, a small, shy sort of smile. “I will. C’mon, Munson. Let’s go before your face freezes that way."

He grabs hold of Eddie with his free hand – Eddie, who’s still flushed and staring at her – and he motions for their other friend to grab his other arm, and with that, the trio of Hellfire boys leave Family Video.

“That was the worst thing I’ve ever heard,” Mike announces as soon as the door shuts, approaching the counter with a sour look on his face.

“I didn’t know you had game like that, Stevie!” Lucas crows, laughing at the sour look on Mike’s face. Dustin, on the other hand? Dustin looks as shellshocked as Eddie did.

“You – you’re into Eddie?”

“That’s an understatement,” Robin snorts. “Seriously, though, that was intense. I thought you were going to flirt with him, not kill him.”

“What?” Stevie shoots back defensively. “He wasn’t getting that I was serious and I wanted to make sure he knew that.”

“Don’t worry, we all know it,” Mike gags, and it’s enough to set Lucas off into giggles again.

“You’re into Eddie,” Dustin repeats, and then all of a sudden he’s beaming. “You like Eddie! This is PERFECT!”

“Oh, no, no, no! Dustin!” Mike groans, but Dustin is already running out the door.

“Don’t worry, Stevie! We’ll make sure true love prevails!”

“God, do we have to?” Mike whines again, but he dutifully follows Dustin out the door. Lucas shoots Stevie another wink and laughs before following suit, and then it’s just Robin and Stevie in an otherwise empty Family Video.

“That was probably a bit much.”

“Nah,” Robin shakes her head with a laugh. “It would take a lot for anyone to be ‘too much’ for Eddie Munson. He’s into you, dingus.”

“You think so?”

Robin knocks her head against Stevie’s. “I bet you five bucks he asks you out by next Saturday.”

“You’re on.”

/////

Three days later, Eddie Munson leaves Family Video with a wide grin on his face, and Stevie is too busy dancing around in excitement to feel too badly about her five dollars that are making a new home in Robin’s wallet.

#steddie #Steve harrington #Eddie munson #female Steve harrington #stranger things #steddie fanfic #platonic stobin #in this house we love robin buckley #tw: discussions of acid frog poop #too many acid swamps to count #honestly I need to come up with another d&d thing for these fics

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tomaturtles · 11 months

Text

Boys + a Yarrowcore shirt

#snap butterscotch #yarrow watts #toma ocs #toma draws #been organizing and messing around with brushes lately.... im a huge fan of the grunge dot one its such a fun texture

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buckybarnesb-tch · 1 year

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I have put together a list of all of the Smells that I think each designation would possess, mostly good, natural smells but some bad as well that come from negative feelings like Fear and Anxiety

Alphas Good Smells:

Pine Trees

Fireplace

Aftershave

Whiskey

Leather

Old Spice

Burning Wood

Brown Sugar

Apple Pie

Peppermint

Coconut

Toffee

New Car Smell

BBQ

Tequila

Matches

Fresh Money

Dark Chocolate

Bacon

Freshly Brewed Coffee

Maple Syrup

Sandalwood

Gasoline

Patchouli

Seawater

Ginger

Hay

Mahogany

Gunpowder

Pears

Cedar Wood

Amber

Pesto

Sautéed Onions

Funnel Cake

Cigarettes

Blackberry

Fresh Cut Grass

Ink

Snap Fire Crackers

Bad Alpha Smells:

Wet Dog

Rancid Meat

Blue Cheese

Blood

Sweaty Feet

Tar

Betas Good Smells:

Lilies

Bamboo

Champagne

Apricots

Pumpkin

Shortbread

Almonds

Tulips

Pina Colada

Mochi

Raspberry

Macaroons

Sharpies

Baby Powder

Butterscotch

Mangos

Sautéed Garlic

Key Lime Pie

Dove Soap

Peanut Butter

Coal

Black Tea

Wet Forest

Marigolds

Fresh Basil

Lilacs

Vanilla

Soda Flavored Lip Smackers

Bad Beta Smells:

Rotting Fish

Oil

Burnt Popcorn

Tuna

Dog Food

Vinegar

Omega Good Smells:

Chocolate Covered Strawberries

Chamomile Tea

Jasmine

Spearmint

Roses

Old Books

Crème Brûlée

Honeysuckle

Eucalyptus

Marijuana

Citrus

Caramel

Cherry Blossom

Cinnamon Bun

Lavender

Whipped Cream

Apples

Dryer Sheets

Fresh Bread

Aloe Vera

Sea Breeze

Peaches

Magnolia Trees

Thunderstorms

Honeycomb

Cherries

S’mores

Cookies Fresh from the Oven

Blanket Fresh out of the Dryer

Sky After it Rains

Smell of Baskin Robins

Bad Omega Smells:

Burnt Rubber

Rotten Eggs

Bleach

Nail Polish Remover

#alpha omega #alpha #omega #omegaverse #omegaverse dynamics #omegaverse fluff #omegaverse headcanons #Omegaverse imagine #Omegaverse scents #omegaverse au #alphaverse #alpha beta omega #a/b/o #a/b/o dynamics #a/b/o headcanon #a/b/o universe

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crumblita · 5 months

Note

hii! can i request some golden retriever or general happy dog npts? please and thank you ☆

golden retriever id pack

names : goldie , theo( dore / dora / dosia ) , butterscotch , blondie , lemon , snip , trinket , sunkiss , soleil , sol , sunny , snap( ple ) , tinsel , knick - knack , ace , kipper

pronouns : woof / woofs , bark / barks , cheer / cheerful , paw / paws , yip / yap , yap / yaps , yip / yips , bounce / bounces , gold / golds , fur / furs , fwu / fwus , fluff / fluffs , wag / wags , ruff / ruffs , wag / wags , canine / canines , ball / balls , sun / sunshine , sunshine / sunshines , :D / :Ds , :3 / :3s

HAIII HE HOPES THIS IS OKAY :3c

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doubledyke · 5 months

Text

dissociatED ch. 3

edd makes a confession

The contents of an overflowing black grocery bag poured into a pile on Ed’s paint speckled project table. Eddy gave the bag a final shake for good measure before tossing it and a lengthy receipt to the floor. The biggest perk of hanging out at Ed’s after school was that they never had to worry about cleaning up before they left- though that never stopped Edd from doing a cursory trash collection at the end of the night.

“Bon appétit, boys.” The shortest teen pronounced flatly after having first dibs at the avalanching mountain of snacks. He then flopped onto what was left of Ed’s mattress and dug a Game Boy Advance from one of his generous pockets. With a handful of sour gummies crammed into his gob, he listened for the usual jingle as the device powered on.

The lump was next in line to make his selections and went straight to work, stacking bag after crinkling bag of 2 for $1 treats in the crook of his arm. Once satisfied with his haul, he spun around daintily on his big toe, but was halted mid-pirouette by the waifish boy waiting patiently behind him. Edd toppled to the floor with a surprised yelp and flinched as packages slipped from Ed's clutches onto his face.

"Sorry, Double Dee." In one fell swoop, he was returned to his standing position by the herculean strength of Ed's free arm.

“That's quite alright, Ed- ED! What in heaven's name are those?!” he exclaimed, spotting the contraband just as it was unsubtly tucked behind Ed’s back. Lips pursed and arms crossed, he flashed The Look.

“Really, Ed. Butterscotch disks?” His skinny neck snapped toward the bed to address the one who'd surely been the mastermind. With a voice as artificially sweet as the various treats that littered the floor, he resumed his questioning. “Eddy? Why, pray tell, would you make the purchase of goods containing butterscotch knowing Ed’s allergy to the confectionery?”

After he paused his game, Eddy’s unamused glare traveled slowly from his accuser to his accomplice, then back.

“It was I, Double Dee.” Ed’s noodle head hung shamefully, a jutting bottom lip garnering little sympathy from the room. “The siren of scorched butter beckons me with her syrupy serenade!” A fake sob punctuated his surprising use of syllables.

“Ed, I only ask that if you’re planning on ingesting potentially injurious indulgences to at least provide some notice! You’re lucky mister, that I, for one, have learned from your history of impulsivity, and keep a topical antihistamine in my bag for times like these. However, there may come a day when I won’t be around to-”

The diatribe was thankfully cut off by the timely roar of a muffler-less Buick Estate approaching the house. Eddy glanced up at Edd who in turn looked at the remaining member of their trio. Ed stared a thousand yards ahead while he tore open a pouch of Pop Rocks and emptied it into his mouth. The teens waited in silence as the wagon steadied to a rumble in the driveway before sputtering out when the engine was cut. A car door was heard creaking open and slamming shut, followed by footsteps that squeaked across the floorboards overhead.

“Welp, dad’s home. May I be excused, Double Dee?” Carbonated sugar crystals exploded off his tongue as he spoke. Edd took a step back and raised a finger, but before he could offer his pardon, the perpetually sticky boy was clambering up the stairs to attend his nightly roundtable reprimand. Ed remained outwardly unaffected for being the person his family used as an emotional punching bag. It was nothing new, and as disturbing as it was to his friends, they’d learned not to harp on it. Still, Edd's chest tightened with guilt for eating into a rare moment of peace with a well-meaning but unnecessary scolding. He managed to stave off a further spiral by vowing to apologize later.

Before retreating to his usual spot on the old blue chair, he sorted through the mess of snacks on the table. To his pleasant surprise, Eddy had taken the time to locate his special request: unsalted dry roasted edamame. A giddy peek at the bed found two eyes peering back at him over the handheld console until they darted back to the tiny pixelated world on the screen.

“Thank you, Eddy.” He flashed a weak smile and sat cautiously on the decrepit recliner, wondering if this would be the night it finally collapsed. With his weight fully settled, he breathed a weary sigh of relief then sluggishly rummaged around his satchel for a source of cerebral stimulation. On quite the rebellious streak as of late, his eyes shifted scandalously as he thumbed past his homework folder and opted for a decidedly more recreational selection. He settled as comfortably as he could to begin yet another read through of Finnegans Wake.

By page five he realized he’d just been staring at the blocks of text without processing their deeply ensconced meaning. The exposed plywood digging into the small of his back was only partly to blame for his distraction. Being alone with Eddy these days was rare and resulted in an unavoidable onslaught of complex thoughts and emotions.

Three years feels like an eternity when you’re a kid. But the collective trauma caused by the events of the summer before 8th grade remained evergreen in Edd’s restive brain. Much like everyone else in the neighborhood, he’d been shell-shocked by the revelation of Eddy’s abuse at the hands of the man he misguidedly idolized. The image of his friend, unguarded and gored took months to shake. It was made all the more difficult by his own incessant replaying of the tender moment the two shared immediately after the carnage.

He wondered what Eddy felt when reflecting on the overt display of affection. Did he look back on that moment with the same warmth? Did he look back on it at all?

An eerie quiet loomed over Rethink Avenue after the incident. Since his painfully public humiliation, Eddy left his days of bunco artistry behind and seemed to be exploring his newfound individuality- or so Edd hoped.

Despite their initial outpouring of empathy, the kids struggled to maintain a tolerance for Eddy once it was clear that his riley temperament wasn’t as easily dropped. Ed and Edd didn’t mind of course; they loved Eddy for the firebrand that he always was. The trio was closer than ever, and weren’t particularly bothered by their largely unchanged status as outcasts. Some things had changed, however. It wasn’t long before Edd noticed a disparity in how he viewed his two closest friends. He and Ed were still akin to brothers, offering comfort and protection from their less than ideal home lives.

But "brother" no longer seemed an appropriate label for Eddy; thinking back, he wasn’t positive it had ever been. Eddy often teased that they were “partners in crime”, prompting Edd to roll his eyes in tepid disapproval. Now, with the so-called crime behind them, did that mean they were just... partners?

At first, this shift in perception was easy enough to shrug off as another fleeting infatuation- after all, he still had a bit of a thing for Nazz. But the passage of time did nothing to sway this new sentiment. By now he’d long given up trying to deny the dangerous appeal of Eddy’s casual insubordination, the bizarre charm in his audacity, his inexplicably endearing immaturity. Not to mention how fetched Edd was by his patchy goatee and trendy hoop earring.

Suddenly everything Eddy said or did was under scrutiny for some implicit meaning. Every indiscreet invasion of personal space and cheeky comment was taken as a hint that he might just feel the same about Edd.

Then again, Eddy wasn’t shy by any means, so if he did have similar feelings, surely he would have mentioned it by now… right? Given the boy’s turbulent upbringing, it was reasonable to assume that he was simply too afraid or embarrassed to broach the subject. Plus, the mildest affectionate gesture made his skin crawl- a fact that Edd was painfully aware of.

The concept was completely foreign to him, as years of touch starvation were starting to take its toll. So much so, that he’d recently found himself looking forward to the occasional odiferous bear hug from Ed. Nonetheless, he respected Eddy’s boundaries, ever-changing as they were.

The mixed signals were a tad frustrating, though. One moment he’s utterly unapproachable, the next he’s practically on top of you. Edd could no longer control the way his lip quivered during those moments. The way he'd turn beet red and still be utterly incapable of looking away.

“Take a picture why dontcha? Weirdo.” The croaky voice snapped Edd’s mind back to the crumbling purple walls of the basement where he’d been gawking at Eddy for the entirety of his impromptu reflection. He emitted a few indignant scoffs and squeaks while scanning the immediate area for something else to look at.

“Oh no, I-I wasn’t…W-Well I was just…”

“Relax, Sockhead, I’m just joshin’ ya .” His brow curled in genuine concern at the mortified expression on Edd’s pallid face.

“Oh, of course, a joke. Hehe. Funny.” His eyes grew large just as he shot abruptly from his seat and snatched up the discarded grocery bag from the cement floor. Spread out flat, it was just wide enough to provide a barrier between the rancid mattress and his pristine pants. With a painfully tight grip on his bony knees, he twisted rigidly to face the portly object of his affection. The unexpected proximity had Eddy slowly shrinking into the corner.

“I need to get something off my chest, Eddy, to clear the air, so to speak.”

Eddy perked up slightly. “Seriously, it was just a joke. I don’t think you’re that weird.”

“Never mind that.” Though impertinent, the clarification was some relief to Edd. He continued, “After considerable time spent deliberating, I’ve come to accept that though my selfish unburdening may well bring about unintended consequences, I simply can’t go on ruminating and rehashing hypotheticals. For my own sanity, it’s best I know exactly where I stand- where we stand. You have my word that no matter your reaction to what I have to say, I won’t be upset. I only ask that you take into consideration my sensibilities when forming your sincere response.”

“For chrissake Edd, just spit it out already! You’re makin’ me nervous.” The Game Boy was shut off and tossed aside so he could wipe his sweaty palms on the thighs of his jeans.

“Eddy, I-”

On cue, pounding footsteps barreled down the groaning stairs. Their newly liberated friend burst into the room sporting his trademark slaphappy grin. Eddy’s indignant glare lingered on a jolted Edd, whose attention was drawn elsewhere.

“I am back, you guys! Pass the ointment, Double Dee!” Resilient as always, Ed stomped over to the buffet of junk in search of something salty to accompany his disks of discomfort.

Eddy stood up on the bed briefly before hopping to the floor and yanking the lofty teen to eye level by a handful of his jacket collar.

“Welcome back, big guy. Hey, listen, I just remembered there’s this gargantuan bug in my bathroom and I need Double Dee here to come see if it's poisonous.”

“Oh, why Eddy, if you simply provided a description of this aberrant arthropod, I’m certain I could-” His innocent offer was snuffed by a clammy hand over his mouth. He fought the immature urge to bite one of the fingers. Like it was his fault that Eddy’s on-the-fly excuse was so easily refuted.

“You're in charge of holdin' down the fort till we get back, got it?”

“Roger Wilco, Eddy!” A ground shaking stomp and stiff salute served to drive his unclear point home.

“At ease, Lump.” He landed a few affectionate wallops on Ed’s bicep, then shot a look at the quasi-entomologist. “Let’s get this over with.”

The old table buckled when Eddy leapt onto the corner to gain access to the window and shimmied through the ever tightening port to the backyard.

“Double Dee?”

Edd stopped on Eddy’s trail to answer, “Yes, Ed?”

“If Eddy’s bug needs a place to stay, there is plenty of room in my humble commode.”

“How… considerate of you, Ed. I’ll inform, um, it of your very generous offer.” He turned to leave but was quickly sidetracked again.

“Oh, Ed!” He looked up with doe eyes and placed a gentle hand on the boy’s sinewy forearm. “I’d like to apologize for chastising you earlier. It’s not my place to dictate the decisions you make regarding your health. Though, it’s probably best to provide you with your own tube of diphenhydramine cream. Just in case.” An affiliative smile spanned his face for the few seconds he waited for a response.

“An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cured meat. And I am quite partial to bologna.”

“Yes, well. I’d best be on my way if I hope to avoid an ear-splitting admonishment of my own.”

The ginger haired giant gaped, eyebrow cocked, as the boy’s spindly arms struggled to lift the weight of his equally scrawny lower half out of the basement. After spending several seconds watching his friend’s kicking legs and pained grunts, he lurched to the window and nudged Edd’s rear with just enough force to send him stumbling into the patchy footpath outside. Once somewhat stabilized on his disproportionately small feet, he hollered his appreciation.

“Thank you, Ed! Back in a jiff!”

Standing coolly at the end of the front yard, Eddy wasted no time pulling out a metal case and matching Zippo from another of his many pockets. His thumb stroked the crudely buffed out initials of the case’s previous owner as he popped it open. He pinched a slightly stale menthol cigarette between his lips and used his left hand to block the breeze, his right to light. That first fiending drag of nicotine always left him woozy. Using a light post to steady himself, he watched through heavy lidded eyes as Edd flounced into view.

The out of shape boy’s dramatic heaving stopped as soon as he whiffed the acrid aroma of tobacco.

“Eddy, I’d prefer you didn’t do that upwind of me.” He swallowed hard and watched the cherry glow red as Eddy inhaled another puff, a characteristically devious grin forming around the carcinogenic tube.

“You’re the one standin’ so damn close! C’mon, I ain't out here for my health.”

With that, the pair started down the sidewalk to Eddy’s home. Their shared lack of spatial awareness resulted in the frequent bumping of shoulders, elbows and hands as they shuffled along in silence. A gust of autumn wind on top of the awkward physical contact prompted Eddy to lip his cigarette and shove his hands in his jacket pockets.

The whimsy of marcescent leaves rustling in the nipping breeze had Edd recalling the many idyllic scenarios wherein he finally makes his long awaited confession. Planning was the one constant throughout all of his fantasies; scheduling a time that was convenient for them both, meeting at an undisclosed- and tastefully atmospheric -location, and reading from a deliberately worded billet-doux.

Instead, the rosy imagery was choked out by another miasma from Eddy’s mouth. He grimaced, watching the discarded cigarette land in a growing pile below the back window. His attention was then quickly drawn back to his prospective flame who, in a heartening display of etiquette, had stepped back and was motioning him through the bedroom’s exterior door as it whirred open with an inviting gush of warm air. It wasn’t the moss covered stone pergola hidden away in the vast secret garden of his daydreams. But the clean, well-decorated interior of the bedroom was an improvement.

Edd lingered by the door, looking on while his wheezing friend slunk off to the bathroom.

“Go on then,” The husky boy was heard a few minutes later, garbling through the foam of toothpaste in his mouth. “I’m listening.”

Edd bit his lip and took a few reluctant steps toward the middle of the room. The sound of medium bristles scrubbing properly aligned teeth echoed off the tile floor of the bathroom. He cleared his throat loudly and adjusted his hat. Feeling a bit dispirited by Eddy’s seeming indifference, he struggled to maintain focus on the task at hand.

You’ve come this far, Eddward. Turning back is no longer an option. Besides, you’ll feel better once you’ve disencumbered yourself. Go forward!

“Hello? Earth to Double Dee?” The voice was now outside the bathroom. Eddy flicked the light off on his way out, slung a retro patterned hand towel used to dab his mouth over his shoulder and zipped to his vanity. There he refreshed his CK One.

The corners of Edd’s mouth tightened. Choosing the right words from the hundreds that bounced around his brain at any given second was more challenging than expected. The wrong one could lead to a critical misunderstanding, which might cause irreparable damage to their already at-risk relationship.

Eddy managed to pry his eyes from his reflection long enough to turn around and face Edd who looked to be fighting a losing internal battle. Nothing new there.

“Forgive me. You’ll understand if I’m a bit nervous.” He faked a chuckle. A second clearing of his throat expelled the first words that came to mind.

“I’m quite fond of you, Eddy.” Dilated pupils darted to the furthest corners of his bugged out eyes. The stocky body in his periphery didn’t move.

A bit lackluster, but a good start. Elaborate.

“To put it more plainly, my indelible admiration for you has taken on a romantic hue… Hours of introspection, countless thought experiments and an economy-size box of facial tissue have all led me to this conclusion.”

His stiff neck ratcheted slightly to the right, followed by the rest of his body as he dared to close much of the space between them.

“I’ve grappled with the possibility that said feelings may be unrequited. And in the event that you do share my sentiment, less than two percent of adolescent affairs last beyond high school...”

Emboldened by adrenaline, he froze where he stood, now only a couple feet away and placed a heavy hand on Eddy’s broadened shoulder.

“That said, I’m truly hoping that for once, the odds are in my favor.”

Edd's gimlet eye and uncharacteristically forceful grip had Eddy weighing his options for an escape; if he was quick, he could slip out from Edd’s grasp and leg it back to Ed’s. No way he'd want to keep talking about this in front of Ed. Or, he could fake the sudden onset of some obscure disease- a surprisingly reliable option.

His eyes narrowed as he debated, fixed on the wisps of thin, dark hair resting against Edd’s cricked neck.

“Eddy?” The voice was so low it prompted Eddy to look around for the source.

“Why’s everyone think I’m gay, Double Dee?” There was a genuine curiosity to his question, though he dreaded every possible answer.

Edd withdrew his hand and used it to anxiously massage his bony chest. His lack of facial expression was typically an indication that he was on the verge of collapse. Eddy tried to be subtle in taking a small step back.

Now, look what you’ve done. Why would you touch him? And with unwashed hands, no less!

Feigning maturity was beyond tiresome. Edd wanted to throw himself on the ground, kicking and screaming until he got his way. He’d half a mind to inform Eddy exactly why everyone was so quick to make judgements regarding his sexuality. Figuring he’d already put enough strain on their friendship for one night, he instead played dumb.

“Um… Far be it from me to dissect the complexities of your identity, Eddy. It seems, based on your reaction, that even my perception was skewed after years of friendship.” The adenoidal quality of his voice returned once his throat was cleared a third time. His hand instinctively pressed against his burning cheek, then tugged at the zipper of his quarter zip sweater.

Eddy’s short rearward steps continued until he collided noisily into his rickety dressing table. After confirming nothing had broken, he contested.

“So a guy bathes regularly and knows how to put together an outfit. That makes him a f-” Noting Edd’s disapproving squint, he quickly found another word. “...Fruit?”

If the context weren’t so gut-wrenching, Edd would have laughed out loud at the boy’s callow reasoning.

Oh, Eddy. My obstinately oblivious abettor.

Behind the beads of perspiration on Eddy’s scrunched forehead a war raged on; a conflict between conscious and unconscious mind. To think, someone whose last name wasn’t Kanker was interested in him. And it was Double Dee of all people- the finicky genius, wise to the many skeletons in Eddy’s overloaded closet. The guy who even seemed to have the dames figured out wanted him. It was doing wonders for his recently shoddy self-worth. And he could’ve easily been carried away on that cloud had it not been for the anchor of doubt, despair, and disgust keeping him firmly on the ground. It was true, he knew Eddy like one of those tomes he read for fun. So if Edd thought he was bent… That meant he’d better keep growing out the goatee.

“Eddy, my personal interests aside, I feel I must reiterate: There is nothing nefarious about same sex attraction. It is entirely amoral, despite hegemonic messaging to the contrary.” He paused, remembering that morality wasn’t exactly topping Eddy’s list of priorities. He tried a different angle.

“Gay and bisexual men aren’t inherently less masculine than their heterosexual counterparts. Sexual orientation has no bearing on how someone may choose to express their gender identity.”

The blank look on Eddy’s face was proof enough that he remained unmoved by the attempted appeal to logic. He pinched the bridge of his nose and tapped his foot impatiently.

“Eddy, are you going to listen to me or your father, who can only be distinguished from archaic man by his ability to cajole elderly widows into the peeling leather interior of dubiously discounted daily drivers?”

The fist-clenching frustration that prompted his outburst dissipated quickly, replaced by pity when he met eyes with the confused young man before him.

Still at a loss, Eddy knew his friend was right. But as far as he was concerned, to admit that was tantamount to coming out.

“I’m sorry, Dee. It’s nothin’ personal, really. I just don’t swing that way."

#back on my bullshit with all this alliteration but its fun what can i say #some day i'll write a fic that doesn't end with a line of angsty dialogue but today ain't that day #as usual i'll probably reread and make changes but i gotta cut her loose for now #oh and in case it wasn't obvious this takes place like 2-ish yrs earlier than the main story #fic

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theworldoffostering · 4 months

Text

I finished this cake up for a customer before heading out to college graduation yesterday at 8am.

Today I’ve been in the kitchen baking all afternoon/evening. DD isn’t going to FL with us for the holiday so we celebrated with her today. I let everyone choose a cookie that they wanted to bake, and we made (most of) them.

We made peanut butter blossoms, hot cocoa cookies, the pretzel/Rolo/m&m things, ginger snaps (dough made and chilling), chocolate chip peppermint cookies (dough made & chilling), fudge, and butterscotch chip cookies. I have a cupcake order to get out for tomorrow too so I’m stressing a bit as I need to pack for our trip as well.

#Christmas cookies #baking #Christmas #caking #cake baker

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thetargaryenbride · 1 year

Text

Nail To The Coffin - S3 - Chapter 1

Warnings: chasing, hitting

Pairing: Steve Harrington x f!Byers!Reader

Word Count: 4560

A.N: So, season 3 begins. I warn you in advance, this season is gonna get freaky and dark haha Billy and reader's fate gets even more intertwined and lots of angst will follow. Hang in there, dearest readers. Also, WE CELEBRATE HITTING 100K WORDS 🤩🥳 As always, please do make me know if I’ve written certain characters OOC and if you think there is something that can be corrected within the story. Thank you for reading. Hope you like it! 🖤 🥀

Masterlist || S2, Chapter 9 || Chapter 2

Late June 1985, Starcourt Mall, Hawkins

“Alright, hang on a second,” chuckled Robin in disbelief. “You are serious about this? You actually have a girlfriend?”

“Uh, yeah?” Steve lifted his shoulders and furrowed his brows at Robin’s expression of pure cynicism.

“And we’re thinking and talking about the same person, right? Y/N Byers?”

“Yeah, since November. Why is this so hard to believe?” groaned the boy and Robin did a double-take.

“I don’t know, maybe-maybe because she is actually gorgeous and like, prodigy-level smart and you are…you,” she shot him something like a pitying expression and he glared.

“Thank you so much for the confidence boost.”

“Just sayin',” she shrugged before popping a spoonful of ice cream in her mouth and he let out a huff before closing the window in her face.

A couple of minutes ago, Steve had told Robin how excited he was that you were coming back from California and she decided to pull his leg. Of course, she knew you were his girlfriend. She had seen you two being all lovey-dovey at school on a couple of occasions. But she just loved messing around with her silly co-worker.

Not even a minute later, repetitive ringing could be heard and Robin turned around and walked to the counter, rolling her eyes at the group of kids who were hitting the bell again and again.

“Hey, dingus!” she sing sang as she leaned on the counter. “Your children are here!”

“Again? Seriously?” asked Steve defeated as he slid open the window to look at the group and Mike shrugged.

He let out a long exhausted sigh but beckoned them in anyways, opening the backdoors to let them sneak into the staff hallways from where they could enter the cinema unnoticed.

“I swear if anybody hears about this-“

“We’re dead!” they echoed at the same time and he shook his head before heading back inside and joining Robin up front at the counter. She sent him an ironic look and he grumbled under his breath.

“Excuse me? Can I order a U.S.S butterscotch sundae?” came in a familiar voice and Steve’s head snapped to look at the person, eyes widening in surprise.

“Y/N!” he all but shouted as his face lit up in excitement while Robin looked on with stupor as the boy pretty much threw himself around the counter and grabbed you by the waist, pulling you close and lifting you in the air to spin you around, making you erupt in giggles.

“Alright, alright. I missed you too! Now put me down,” you laughed and he set you down clumsily before capturing your lips in a kiss.

“Gosh, it feels like I haven’t seen you in ages,” he chuckled breathily and you shook your head.

“It’s only been a week…but I understand how you feel,” you shared knowing looks as you ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it back a bit.

“I can’t believe it…You were actually serious about this,” Robin interrupted the moment, making you both turn your heads to face her, bodies still flushed against each other, and you lifted an eyebrow at her perplexed expression. “You were telling the truth this whole time?!” she over-exaggerated with a slight smirk.

“What is she talking about?” you stammered in confusion as you looked at Steve and he rolled his eyes good-naturedly while you pulled away from his embrace.

“She didn’t believe me when I told her you’re my girlfriend,” he put a hand on his hip while the other he threw in frustration.

“I know that it’s hard to believe sometimes but Steve is more than what meets the eye,” you smiled brightly before extending your hand. “Y/N Byers. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Robin Buckley,” she accepted the handshake and smiled politely at you. “And for the record, I do believe you, dingus. I’m just messing with you,” she addressed him and he gave her the ‘Seriously?’ look, making you giggle.

“Look, I’m sorry to ask this of you but can you cover for me for a bit? Just for awhile, I promise,” asked Steve and the girl nodded.

“Go on, catch up with your girl,” she waved him off and he grinned before taking your hand and dragging you away.

“But I really wanted some ice cream,” you moaned and he halted in his step before rushing back behind the corner to scoop you some big balls of strawberry, chocolate, and vanilla ice cream and dump them in a cone, sprinkling it with some rainbow sprinkles and shoving two wafer sticks in the creamy substance before dashing back to your side and handing it to you. You shook your head at his antics before pecking his cheek and grasping his hand once again, the two of you walking away from his workplace and opting to take a walk through the mall.

“How was your week? What happened in LA? Hope everything went good,” inquired Steve and you hummed as you licked your ice cream.

“Everything was good. I went to UCLA, sorted out some documents and now everything is cemented. I’m starting October first.”

“That’s…great. It’s great!” he grinned but it didn’t reach his eyes and your smile faltered as you pulled him to a stop.

“Steve, I’m…I’m going to visit as often as possible. A-and once I establish myself there you can come visit me too! Maybe you can find a job in LA and that way we’ll be together!” you gave him a hopeful expression and he smiled at you.

“We’ll think it through.”

Suddenly, the power went out, showering the whole mall in darkness and you and Steve looked around in confusion, his grip on your hand tightening.

Not only a minute had passed when the power was turned back on and the two of you relaxed. After everything you’ve been through the past two years, things related to lighting always drew you on edge – be it flickering lights or the power going out. It was a hassle to deal with.

“Let there be light,” joked Steve and you chuckled. “So, what are your plans for the summer? Are you thinking of finding a place to intern at? Or getting a job at the mall?” he asked as you resumed your walking and you shook your head.

“Oh, heavens no. I have worked my ass off since I can remember and I kept working almost until graduation last month. I’ve saved enough money and I’m probably going to find a job in LA when I start uni so I’m thinking of resting until then.”

“That’s a good choice actually. I don’t want you overworking yourself. You totally deserve those couple months of rest after all the working and studying you did,” he nodded in agreement as he gesticulated with his free hand and you smiled. It was very sweet of him to support your decisions as he did. “Besides, we’ll get to spend more time together,” he smiled at you and you pecked his cheek.

The two of you walked around the mall some more, catching up for the missed week before Steve told you he had to finish his shift. You told him to go do his thing while you decided to browse some stores to pass the time.

You were currently in Jean Nicole’s, holding a hanger with a white frilly lace dress.

“Try it on. If anyone can pull off that Bianca Jagger Studio fifty-four look, it’s you,” came in Steve’s voice, making you turn around to find him leaning against the wall admiring you. You put back the hanger and shook your head.

“It’s not gonna be the same without the doves,” you pointed out and he chuckled, uncrossing his arms and taking a couple of steps towards you. You looked him up and down, noticing the tight jeans and shirt that fit him like a glove and complimented every curve and muscle of his body.

He was hot and he was yours.

You curled your finger around his belt hoop and pulled him towards you, making him instinctively wrap his arms around your waist and pull you in for a kiss, smiling against your lips as he moved his against yours expertly.

“Wanna take that home?” he murmured and you nodded.

“With pleasure,” you spoke quietly against his lips and he smirked, letting out a breathy chuckle.

You were curled by Steve’s side when you woke up, lips stretching in a smile when you felt his arms around you. You placed a kiss on his biceps and he grunted quietly as he stirred, waking up.

“Morning, sunshine,” you sang out as you turned in his arms so you could face him properly and his eyes fluttered open. You chuckled at his disheveled appearance and ran your hand through his hair to fix it up a bit before placing a kiss on his eyes and nose.

“Stop teasing,” he grumbled before kissing you lazily on the lips and you let out a breathy chuckle as you watched him slowly sit up and rub his neck.

“Well, aren’t you handsome, looking disheveled like that,” you winked and he jumped on top of you, making you squeal as he began peppering your face and neck with kisses. “Stop! It tickles!”

“Never!”

You don’t know how long you just wrestled and tickled and kissed each other but Steve suddenly stopped and you looked at him in confusion, trying to calm your breathing.

“What’s wrong?” you asked and then you saw that his eyes were locked on the scar on your left arm, causing your smile to falter slightly. “It’s ugly,” you muttered after a moment of silence and he scrunched up his forehead, glancing at you.

“What? No way. You look badass,” he stated firmly and you raised your brows.

“Really?” you whispered and he nodded before leaning down and kissing the scar, tracing his lips from the beginning to the end of it before he got lower and lower until he reached the side of your abdomen and began to gently plant kisses on the scarred tissue there. You let out a sigh of contentment as your hand buried in his messy locks, fingers gently caressing his head and sliding down to his neck where you scratched him lightly with your nails, making him shiver and let out a muffled moan.

His hands roamed over your thighs and climbed up and over your abdomen before he also pulled himself up to capture your lips once again.

“You’re beautiful just the way you are. All of you,” he muttered as he looked at you deeply and you smiled.

“And so are you,” your knuckles traced his cheek and he took your hand in his, kissing every finger before nuzzling in your palm. “Alright, lover boy, I hate to break it to you but we gotta run. I have to go home and change clothes. Then I and the others will be going to surprise a certain someone because he’s coming back from summer camp,” you told the boy and his face lit up in realization.

“Henderson!” he exclaimed and you nodded with a smile. “Damn, I missed this boy.”

“I suppose you’ll see him after work…for which you have to prepare to go to…like, now,” you reminded him and his eyes widened as he shot out of bed and ran to his bathroom.

You and Steve parted ways after you freshened up and got dressed. He headed for the mall while you went home to change your clothes and pick up Will. You had your breakfast before you and your brother headed for the Henderson residence, sneaking inside with Claudia’s permission and secrecy. She said she’d skip to the store for some grocery shopping, leaving the whole house to you.

“Alright, I think now’s the time,” you whispered and El nodded before closing her eyes and suddenly, all toys came to life and began marching down the hallway with Dustin following after them fearfully until they came to a stop in the living room and he crouched to inspect them while you snuck behind him.

Everyone blew up the party horns except you who simply shouted “Welcome home!”

Dustin however got startled and he screeched to the high heavens while spraying the Farrah Fawcett spray in Lucas’ direction, getting him in the eyes. It was very comical how the two of them screamed while the rest of you scrunched up your faces in sympathy and tried to hold back your laughter.

“What the hell, guys! Are you trying to kill me!?” yelled the boy as he breathed heavily while lowering the spray.

“Are you!?” wheezed Lucas as he rubbed his eyes with his forearm and Max snorted before grabbing him by the elbow and dragging him towards the kitchen to help him wash his face.

“We just wanted to surprise you,” you chuckled as you went to hug the boy and he let out a long exhale, returning the hug.

“Come on! I have something to show you guys!” exclaimed the boy.

“You guys have fun. I gotta run, though,” you informed them and Dustin frowned.

“Already?”

“I promise I’ll come back later. I just have a couple of stops to make, is all,” you ruffled his hair and he sighed dejectedly but nodded nonetheless. “See you guys later,” you bid them goodbye as you hugged Will and El simultaneously, placing kisses on their heads, before heading out of the house and jumping in your car, driving off towards the pool.

Late November 1984 (a couple of days before your confrontation with Neil)

“Hey,” you called after Billy once you saw him walking towards his car after school. The boy halted in his step and turned to face you, not saying anything. “I wanted to…talk.”

“So they didn’t sew your big mouth at the hospital?” he took a final drag of his cigarette before sharply plucking it out of his mouth and throwing it on the ground. When you just stood there, looking everywhere but him, fidgeting, he let out a sigh. “I’m just joking. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

“Right,” you chuckled awkwardly. “Of course. Um,” you cleared your throat as you approached the boy and handed him a small wrapped present. He looked at it then back at you and lifted a brow. “I never got to thank you. For bringing me to the hospital and all.”

“I’m pretty sure lover boy was gonna do it either way if I hadn’t knocked him out,” he snorted.

“Yeah, well, that’s true. I should be angry that you beat him up. Frankly, I still am a bit salty about it but I think it’s best if we let bygones be bygones,” you smiled as you handed him the gift and he hesitantly took it off your hand, tearing the paper more gently than you thought he was capable of.

“Is this,” he drawled as his eyes widened and you nodded, smile growing.

“Deep Purple’s newest album, Perfect Strangers, yes,” you responded. “I know how much you love rock, I mean the whole school knows with how you’re always blasting it, so...”

“Thank you.”

That was the first time when you ever saw Billy Hargrove smile genuinely with eyes full of gratitude. It was the first time you’ve seen him show a kind side of himself. You didn’t count the moment of vulnerability during that summer party because he was drunk and delirious back then. Now he was sober and he showed some normalcy. So he did have a good side and it made you wonder what exactly did he go through that made him choose to act the way he did?

And that was the moment when you decided to stop rolling your eyes at him or feeling annoyed every time you saw him and instead try to worm your way into his heart by being kinder to him, secretly hoping that one day he’d start showing more of that good side.

You pushed open the door and set foot back outside, mindful not to step in any puddles or slip. You saw the boy at his chair, overlooking the pool and you lifted an arm, waving at him. That picked his attention and he straightened up in his seat before climbing down and strolling towards you in that typical Billy walk.

“Fancy seeing you here, Byers,” he greeted you and you smiled.

“I don’t want to bother you while you’re working so I just came by to set a meeting for tomorrow instead.”

“Meeting? Tomorrow? What for?” he arched an eyebrow in curiosity.

“Well, Max’s birthday is coming soon so I intend on doing some shopping. And you’re coming with me,” you informed him and he huffed.

“Is that a threat?”

“If you consider spending time shopping with a friend for your sister’s birthday a threatening experience, then sure,” you quipped and he rolled his eyes.

“You’re not my friend,” he drawled. “And she’s not my sister.”

“Oh, c’mon. Just break that pride of yours a tad bit more, will ya? Do something nice for Max. She deserves it,” you gave him a look and he let out a tormented exhale.

“Alright, fine,” he agreed after a while. “I’ll come pick you up tomorrow and we’ll go to the mall. Happy?” he grumbled and you grinned.

“Very much so!”

“Aight, now get outta my sight,” he waved his hand dismissively and you waved at him before whirling and leaving.

What you learned about Billy after getting the chance to hang out with him on a couple of occasions, and after discovering the way his father treated him, was that he was a grumpy person who was angry at life, angry at the world, and everything happening in his life was a pure torment, corroding him on the inside. You learned that this was the reason why he acted like a jerk most of the time and why he bullied some people – because he wanted everyone else to feel as bad as he did, so he could not be alone in this torment. It was a very toxic coping mechanism but there were people who weren’t as lucky as you and your brothers were and found bad ways to cope with trauma, falling victim to toxic behaviors and patterns. Such kind of people needed help – to be shown kindness, love, and that things could be done otherwise, that there are other coping mechanisms. Billy was one of these people. And you knew that there was goodness deep down, buried under this tough act he was pulling in order to protect himself from being hurt over and over and all those months you never stopped digging for it, trying to bring it to the surface.

The change wasn’t that big, particularly considering that it’s been only a couple of months, and you kept reminding yourself that “Rome wasn’t built in a day”. But what mattered was that he did change, even if it was by a bit, and you considered it progress.

A step forward.

You could only hope that he would keep on changing and would become the good person you knew he had the capability of being. Not only for his own sake but for Max’s sake because she deserved a good older brother who cared for her.

So you were beyond happy that he agreed to accompany you and pick a gift for her. You were sure that this would definitely contribute to their strengthening bond as siblings.

One good thing you picked on was that he didn’t correct you as often as he used to. Months ago, when you or someone else would call Max his sister, he would immediately cut them off and correct them, rejecting her as sister and saying she was only a ‘step-sister’. But he rarely did that nowadays which gave you hope that he was beginning to accept Max as a sister more and more.

You were excited and hopeful for the change in dynamics and what was to come.

You were excited for this summer.

“Aw, honey, you look amazing,” complimented Joyce as she stopped in her tracks to give you a look and you smiled, thanking her.

You were currently wearing a creamy-colored, frilly sun dress with flowy off-shoulder sleeves that reached your elbows. You had opted for the “elvish” hairstyle as Will called it – braiding front locks into small braids and pinning them on the back of your head while leaving some strands to hang over your ears. You didn’t put much makeup besides some lip gloss and blush because the temperatures were so high you felt like your face would melt within the first couple minutes of stepping outside.

“Are you going on a date with Steve?” she asked knowingly as she adjusted the laundry basket in her hands and you nodded.

“Yes, we’re going out.”

“What plans do you guys have? Or is it a secret?”

“We’re actually planning on going to the Hideaway because Eddie’s band will be playing there tonight and we want to support him,” you informed her with a smile and she returned it.

“It’s lovely how the two of them are friends now, considering they couldn’t stand each other before.”

“Well, sometimes they still get irritated when they’re in the same company but there’s been significant progress for the past two years,” you chuckled as you put down the bottle of perfume you had sprayed yourself with when the phone rang, startling you and Joyce. “I’ll take it,” you told her as you marched to the device and answered it while she returned to her room to leave the dry laundry.

“Hello?”

“Y/N?”

“Billy!?” you gasped, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion as to why he was calling you. “Is everything ok?”

“I…I need to see you…now,” he said flatly and you blinked astounded.

“Did something bad happen?”

“Can you meet me at the graveyard?”

“The graveyard? Now? I mean…I have a date so whatever it is you want…help with? Will have to be fast, ok?” you asked but the only thing you heard was a hum before the line went dead, leaving you with more questions than answers.

“Everything ok?” inquired Joyce as she returned to the living room and you shrugged.

“I actually don’t know. Um, a friend called and…It seemed like an emergency. I do have some more time before the date so I’ll go check what’s going on.”

“Ok, honey, be careful and have a great evening,” she gave you a peck on the cheek and you ran out of the house and into your car.

Not long after, you were parking by the cemetery and getting out. It was dark and scary and for some reason the air around here felt a bit more chilly, causing a shiver to run down your spine as you slowly walked further into the graveyard, looking for your friend.

“Billy?” you called out when you saw a familiar figure and he turned to face you, chest heaving, hair disheveled, face sweaty and bloody. He looked like death. “What happened!?” you exclaimed as you sprinted to him and looked him over with wide eyes, hands going to grasp his upper arms.

“I don’t know,” he let out breathlessly. “I-I feel like I’m losing my shit, Byers,” he smiled sardonically before it faltered back to a frown and he bit his lip as his eyes darted elsewhere.

“Listen…whatever it is, I will help you, ok? But we have to go to the hospital, Billy, those injuries are just…What happened?”

“I don’t know what happened!” he snapped and you flinched. “I can’t explain it. I don’t,” he rubbed his face in frustration. “I don’t even know why the fuck I called you! There’s-there’s something inside me that-“ he choked on whatever words he wanted to spill out and let out a pained grunt as his hands flew to grasp his head.

“Billy, you’re scaring me. Tell me what’s wrong,” he shook his head as he bent over in pain and let out ragged breaths and pained groans through clenched teeth and shut eyes. Your hand went to grab his arm again while the other rubbed his back soothingly as you slightly bent to try and get a better look. “Billy, talk to me!”

His body leaned and slumped against yours, your hands instantly flying to catch him. He shook and sobbed against you and you just hugged him closely, his head buried in your collarbone.

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed out and tears gathered in your eyes at seeing such a strong, unwavering boy like Billy completely break in your arms.

“It’s ok,” you breathed out. “It’s ok, I got you. It’s ok,” you whispered as you rubbed his back and held him before he slightly pulled away.

But there was something strange in his look this time. His pupils were dilated and he was looking at you void of emotion. You felt like someone threw cold water on you as you watched him take a step backward and lift his arm and before you could react, he backhanded you so hard that you stumbled and fell on the ground, knees and arms grazing painfully on the stone. You groaned as you turned to look at him.

“What is wrong with you!?” you yelled but your voice died out when you saw him take a step towards you, making you crawl away and use a gravestone as support to help you stand up. You didn’t hesitate to sprint away and your heart beat rapidly when you heard his thumping footsteps right behind you.

You ran for your car, wanting nothing more than to get in and drive away. But just when you were a couple of steps away from the vehicle, your chance at running away was crushed like an ant by a boot when you saw Billy standing there, blocking your path.

You almost stumbled and tripped in your haste to stop yourself from running right into his arms and quickly changed directions, running back inside the cemetery. You threw yourself on the ground behind a gravestone and tried to calm your ragged breathing as you heard the shuffling of footsteps come closer and closer.

“You can’t hide from me, Y/N…I see you,” his uncharacteristically monotonous voice drawled uncomfortably close and you dashed from your hiding place once again.

And then you felt him grab your hair and pull, bringing you to a sudden stop and making you gasp in pain as you fell back against his chest. His one arm encircled your body to keep you in place while the other wrapped around your neck tightly, immediately cutting off your air supply. You struggled against him and tried to free your arms and kick with your legs but he was too strong.

You managed to headbut him and he let out a groan, his grip loosening. That allowed you to slither under his arms and fall to the ground. Just when you lifted part of your body up, in hopes of running away again, he grabbed you by the leg and pulled, bringing you back down and at his feet.

The last thing you felt was a harsh blow to your head and then everything went black.

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