#two fluffy fics in row

[livingincolorsagain]

inspired by this lovely art by @fiprobably

“Hey, Buck,” Sam called, pushing the door closed with his hips and toeing off his shoes. “I’m back.”

It was Sam’s turn to pick up Cass and AJ from school, and he dropped them off at their house and went to pick up the groceries before heading back home.

“They were all out of the creamer you like,” he said, placing the bags down on the countertop and starting to empty them out. “I got the pumpkin spice latte one instead.”

“Buck?” He called again after a minute had passed with no answer, pausing halfway through shelving the cans.

Bucky came into the kitchen then, all dressed up in a smart black suit and a pressed white shirt, his dress shoes squeaky clean.

Sam felt his eyebrows shoot up as he blinked a few times. His eyes went from Bucky to the magnetic calendar on the fridge and back to Bucky.

The date wasn’t marked up, but still, Sam asked, “Did I miss something?”

Bucky smiled softly, shaking his head as he walked over to the remaining groceries and started putting them away.

Sam looked down at himself—a well worn sweater that was actually Bucky’s and jeans and black and red socks—then said, “Do I need to change?”

“No, sweetheart,” Bucky said, collecting the bags and shoving them with the other plastic bags under the sink. “You look perfect.”

“Okay,” Sam said, feeling bewildered.

“Did you get—“

“The peaches? Yeah. Cherries, too. Make as many pies as you please.”

Bucky smiled brightly, taking a few steps closer to where Sam was next to the pantry. He held his hands out, and Sam grabbed them without hesitation, intertwining their fingers together.

“I have something to ask you,” Bucky said, and his voice betrayed him a little at the end.

Sam felt his heart skip in his chest, feeling warm all over. “Anything, baby.”

Bucky’s face melted into something much more tender, and he placed a kiss on the back of each of Sam’s hands before dropping them.

Then he dropped to one knee.

Sam’s heart fluttered in his chest like a bird learning how to fly, eyes immediately blurring with tears.

“Bucky,” he croaked.

“Sweetheart,” Bucky answered softly. “I’ve been thinking about this for so long, getting on my knees and asking you to spend the rest of your life with me, because there’s nothing I want more than to spend the rest of mine with you. To wake up every morning to you, to kiss your smile as you drink your coffee and watch you as you make breakfast. To watch you fly like you were made for it, like you were born to have wings. To spend every day we have together reminding you that I’ll love you purposely and unconditionally for as long as you’d let me.”

“Bucky,” Sam breathed, unconsciously covering his mouth with his hand.

“Samuel,” Bucky whispered thickly, pulling a small, velvet box out of his pocket and opening it. “Marry me?”

“Yes.”

Bucky beamed. “Oh yeah?”

Sam grabbed his arms and pulled him up, slamming their lips together until they ran out of air, then he pulled back to pepper Bucky’s face with kisses, ending every kiss with a whispered yes.

Bucky chuckled as he snapped the box closed and wrapped his arms around Sam, pulling him as close as they could get.

Sam pulled back, looking at all the happy lines on Bucky’s face. “I love you,” he said, his voice cracking.

Bucky raised his hands to wipe his tears away with his thumbs. “I love you too, darlin’,” he said, “I love you and your pumpkin spice latte obsession.”

Sam scoffed, fighting back a smile. “I don’t have one!”

“Please,” Bucky said, leaning in to catch Sam’s lips in a kiss. There was a lull in the conversation as the kiss grew passionate, then Bucky pulled back, face flushed and smile so wide his eyes crinkled with it. “I can taste it on your lips.”

#sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #onlysambucky #sambucky fics #a writes sambucky #yes sam took his nephews to starbucks and got a pumpkin spice latte before dropping them off #he’s a cool uncle #two fluffy fics in row #will wonders ever cease

[theostrophywife]

chicken noodle soup.

pairing: mattheo riddle x reader

song inspiration: is it really so strange? by the smiths

author's note: just a soft fluffy comfort fic cause i've been thinking about matty lately and i needed cheering up after the end of kwaf. let's all laugh at the fact that i set a 1k limit on this fic only to fail miserably lmao 😭

Mattheo Riddle was not a fan of Mondays. 

Most of the time, Mattheo spent the first day of the week nursing a hangover and getting higher than a hippogriff at the Astronomy Tower with his friends to achieve equilibrium. The only thing he looked forward to every week was the prospect of riling you up in class. To be fair, it didn’t take much to get under your skin. Being himself seemed to do the trick. 

As he walked through the castle halls, Mattheo smiled to himself as he plotted out all the different ways he could provoke you on this dreadful day. For some sick and twisted reason, he reveled in the fact that only he could manage to rouse such a violent reaction out of you. There was something satisfying about the way your eyes blazed, your rosy cheeks tinged with heat as you told him off.

Maybe he'd flirt with you today. Tell you how good you looked in your short little skirt. Watch as you turned as red as the tie around your neck. His pretty little Gryffindor good girl. In Mattheo's mind, you were his to tease and taunt.

With his usual swagger, Mattheo sauntered into Advanced Transfiguration fully prepared to test out his new tactics on his nemesis, but you were nowhere to be found. 

At first, he figured that you were just running late. Throughout the duration of your rivalry, Mattheo had never once witnessed you skip class. He would’ve bet his entire cigarette supply that you’ve had perfect attendance since first year. When Professor McGonagall started the lesson and you were still missing in action, Mattheo was understandably concerned. 

The uneasy feeling in his stomach didn’t mean that he was worried about you though. This was purely about mutual benefit. Mattheo couldn’t very well have his Transfigurations partner skipping out on lessons. Even though he regularly did so himself. But still, that was different. Everyone knew he was a delinquent. You, on the other hand, were anything but. Until today, you’ve probably never missed a class in your life. 

Mattheo waited. Surprisingly, the two of you had the majority of your classes together. All of which dragged more than usual since you weren’t there to yell at him for dicking around. When you still hadn't turned up for Charms or Herbology, he became convinced that something was horribly wrong. Missing one lesson was alarming, but three in a row? That was entirely out of character for you. 

When Professor Sprout finally dismissed the class, Mattheo sauntered over to Granger’s desk. As always, she was surrounded by her two dimwit friends who immediately tensed the second he loomed near. Potter and Weasley shot him matching menacing glares, but Mattheo ignored them entirely. 

“Granger,” he drawled, leaning against the wooden desk. “Care to tell me where my partner’s been all day?” 

The Gryffindor girl appeared a bit perturbed by the question. “Why do you want to know where Y/N is?” 

Mattheo sighed in exasperation and produced the set of notes he’d taken during class. A first for him. He couldn’t remember the last time he actually listened to an entire lesson, let alone take notes, but he knew that you would have a million questions for him when you returned. The notes were his way of saving himself from your relentless interrogation. 

“Figured the little know-it-all would want my notes.” 

“Y/N is feeling a bit under the weather,” Hermione said cautiously. “I can take the notes to her if you’d like.” 

“No.” Mattheo declared rather suddenly. He cleared his throat and attempted to smooth over the sharp response. “No, McGonagall tasked me with it. I don’t want her docking points from my house when she finds out that you did my dirty work for me.”

Hermione raised a brow. “Sure.” The quirk of her mouth told Mattheo that she wasn’t convinced by his excuse. “Well, Y/N is resting up in the tower if you fancy a visit.” 

After a quick detour to the kitchens, Mattheo made his way over to Gryffindor tower. It was surprisingly easy to gain access to the lion’s den. He simply threatened a third year to let him in and got on with it. They truly needed to upgrade their security measures. One glare was all it took for Creevey to crumble and cave. 

With a satisfied smirk, Mattheo walked past the gaudy common room. For Salazar's sake, hadn't the Gryffindors ever heard of subtlety? The decor consisted solely of crimson and gold and the furnishings looked like something out of that muggle show his nan loved to watch—Antiques Roadshow. Antique was right. The worn out couch that he passed looked older than him.

Merlin, now he was starting to sound like Malfoy. Mattheo hurried along before he caught the urge to fold origami notes and chuck it at Potter's head. Fortunately for him, the place was devoid of the Chosen One or anyone for that matter.

By now, his fellow classmates were all in the Great Hall eating dinner, which he was thankful for. It was no secret that Mattheo’s presence wouldn’t be welcome here and he wasn’t really in the mood to fight his way through the Gryffindors just to deliver a note from the kindness of his black heart. Thank Salazar that there wasn’t a single soul in the tower to bicker with. Until he reached your dorm, of course. 

The relationship between the two of you was volatile to say the least. Despite Mattheo’s reputation, you weren’t shy about telling him off. When you were first assigned as partners, Mattheo had fully intended to let you do all the work while he skipped class to smoke, but he quickly realized that this would not be the case. You hunted him down at his hideout in the Astronomy Tower and discovered him blissfully sharing some premium grade mirthroot with Theo and Draco. When you found him, you were so angry that you dragged him by the ear all the way to the library, much to the amusement of his friends. Needless to say, Mattheo never missed a study session again. 

In a way, Mattheo admired you for it. Aside from his friends, everyone in the castle feared him. It was sort of refreshing to have someone call him out on his shit. Especially if that someone was a funny, feisty, ferocious Gryffindor who he enjoyed pestering every chance that he got. Mattheo always did have a penchant for girls with an attitude problem. 

Even as he knocked on your door, the Slytherin boy couldn’t help but chuckle to himself when he heard you grumbling from the other side. 

“Oh, for Godric’s fucking sake, what is it now?” 

The door swung open, revealing a very pissed off Y/N. Clad in striped pajamas and fuzzy bunny slippers, you placed a hand on your hip and frowned. Even in the throes of sickness, you still somehow managed to inject venom in your glare. Mattheo grinned like an idiot. 

“Nice slippers, princess.” 

You huffed, crossing your arms. “What do you want, Riddle?” 

“To make sure my partner doesn’t slack.” He waved his set of notes around. “Don’t think your sickness excuses you from studying.”

“This is payback for making you revise with me after you fell off your broom and broke your arm, isn’t it?” 

Mattheo cringed as he recalled the quidditch accident that sent him to the infirmary for a week. In true Y/N fashion, you were sitting by his bedside with a stack of books in your lap the second he woke up. Madam Pomfrey hadn't even put his arm in a sling yet before you were drilling him on proper spell enunciation and wand movements.

“You terrorized the infirmary with your mnemonics,” Mattheo said with a dramatic sigh. “It’s my turn now. This is sweet revenge, Y/N.” 

You squinted at his barely legible handwriting. “I’m just surprised you took your head out of your arse long enough to take notes.” 

“Glad to see that illness hasn’t lessened your bite. If anything, those teeth seem a little sharper than usual.” He leaned against the doorframe and smiled down at you. “Feeling a bit feral, princess?” 

“Why don’t you come a little closer and find out?” you quipped, baring your teeth at the aggravating boy. 

The gesture appeared intimidating for a full second until you sniffled and launched into a coughing fit, which made Mattheo frown. 

“Are you alright?” 

“Of course I am. I regularly cough my lungs out on nosy Slytherins whose sole purpose of existence is to make my life a living hell.”

He pressed the back of his hand against your forehead. The way his brow furrowed strangely resembled concern. Mattheo trained his chocolate brown eyes on you, examining the rosiness of your cheeks and the slight pinch of discomfort in your features.

"You're burning up." Mattheo's hand dropped from your forehead to the side of your neck. He pressed his fingers against your pulse point, feeling the erratic beating of your heart underneath his touch. It was strangely intimate. "You have an elevated heart rate."

You flushed and swatted his hand away. "Well, yes. That usually happens when one is ill."

"Come on, you should sit down."

"Don't tell me what to do, Riddle."

Mattheo rolled his eyes before dragging you by the elbow. Your protests fell on deaf ears as he barged his way into your dorm and walked you over to the bed. You watched as he pulled up a chair next to you before rifling through the contents of his backpack. Out of the sordid mess of his belongings, Mattheo produced a small container of soup. With a flick of his wand, he conjured a spoon. 

“Here, have some of this. It should help.”

As soon as he pried the lid open, the heavenly smell of chicken noodle soup filled your senses. Mattheo scooped up an equal amount of soup and noodle and blew on it to cool it down before tilting it towards you. The sight of him offering you food like you were some helpless toddler was only slightly insulting. You swore to Godric that if Mattheo started making airplane sounds, you’d strangle the bloody twat.

 “I can feed myself, you know.” 

“Just eat the damn soup, Y/N.” 

You rolled your eyes in return, but obliged nonetheless. Despite the source, you could never resist comfort food.

“Chicken noodle soup?” 

As soon as you tasted it, you knew that it wasn’t just soup. It was your favorite soup. The very same one that Winky made every third Wednesday of the month. You knew because you looked forward to it every time. It was even marked on your calendar. That’s how much you liked it. 

Mattheo nodded absentmindedly. “Yeah, I know it’s your favorite so I bribed Winky to make some.” 

You furrowed your brows in confusion. “How do you know it’s my favorite?” 

For once in his life, Mattheo looked utterly uncomfortable. He averted his gaze and busied himself by stirring through the carrots and celery. “You, uh, mentioned it in class once.” 

You couldn’t help but smile. Maybe it was the fever talking, but you thought that was sweet. “You remembered that?” 

Mattheo looked up, a stray curl kissing the tops of his cheekbones as he met your gaze. The shy smile on his face was alarmingly endearing. Sometimes when you looked at those angelic curls and stupid big, brown eyes, you forgot that you were supposed to loathe him. “Of course. It’s my favorite too.” 

You chuckled, sniffling a little. “It’s like a hug in a cup, right?” 

The curly headed boy nodded. “It totally is.” 

After you finished the soup, you expected Mattheo to take his leave. Instead, he inspected the vials of potions laying out on your night stand. He read through every label, frowning a little. 

“You should really have some pepperup potion in here.” Mattheo remarked as he arranged the vials one by one. “Are you sure this dose is potent enough? Maybe you should ask them to brew something stronger.” 

“Pomfrey prescribed them herself. No offense, but I think I’ll take her years of healing experience over your expert opinion.” Mattheo gasped rather dramatically, which made you chuckle. “As much as I appreciate the notes and the soup, I don't think it's wise for you to stick around. I’m feeling a bit better, but I might still be contagious.” 

Mattheo shrugged. “It’s alright, I’m not scared of a little cold. Besides, I still have to go over the Transfiguration assignment with you.” 

“Aren’t you worried that I’ll get you sick?” 

“Not really,” he said, waving off your concern. “I know you’re going to pester me about everything you missed in class, so I figured I’d kill two birds with one stone.” 

To your surprise, Mattheo’s notes were extremely detailed.  It was a bit hard to read given his boyish scrawl, but with a little help in translation, you were making great progress in becoming fluent in Riddle. The more Mattheo explained the concepts and ideas that were discussed in each class, the more baffled you were. You've always known that he was smarter than he let on, but this was borderline impressive.

“How do you know all of that?” 

“I asked.”

“You asked?” Mattheo stared blankly at your surprised expression. “You never ask questions in class.” 

“I never had to since you're always there interrogating the professor like the little know-it-all that you are. Thanks to your absence, I had to fill your role in class today.”

You grinned. It grew wider and wider, spreading until your cheeks hurt. Mattheo glared at your joyous expression. “What? What’s that shit eating little grin for?” 

“You missed me.”

Color flooded Mattheo’s cheeks. You were surprised to find how well crimson suited him. It was almost the exact shade of your house colors. “Don’t be ridiculous—”

“Riddle, you asked questions in class. You took notes for me. You brought me chicken noodle soup." Mattheo flushed as you pointed out the obvious. "You totally missed me.” 

“If you tell anyone, I’ll hex you.” 

“Admit it, Mattheo. Your day was utterly dull without me.” 

Mattheo rolled his eyes, sighing in defeat. “Fine, you’ve got me. I was bored out of my mind without you around. How else am I supposed to pass the time if you’re not there for me to argue with?” 

“There’s plenty of other people in the castle that you could bicker with.”

“Yeah, but they’re not you.” 

He seemed a little shocked by his own statement, but he didn't try to retract it. In fact, Mattheo almost seemed resigned to it.

“Careful, Riddle. It almost sounds like you have a crush on me.” 

“I’d have to be a bloody idiot to fall for a girl who absolutely despises me.” 

“That wasn’t a denial, you know.” 

He pinched the bridge of his nose like the very idea of it vexed him, but you caught the little smile he hid beneath his fingers. Mattheo snatched the notes from your hands. “Focus on the lesson, will you?” He grimaced as soon as the words left his mouth. “I can’t believe I’ve just said that. Look at what you’re doing to me, Y/N.” 

“You’ll live, Riddle.” You poked a section of his notes that you hadn’t quite deciphered. “Now what in the bloody hell is the Gobstopper Ruffian?” 

“The Goblin Rebellion. Merlin, my handwriting isn't that bad.” 

“Are you kidding? A kindergartner writes more legibly than this.” 

The hours passed while you bickered and bantered. You hated to admit it, but you missed arguing with him too. Laying in bed all day had you positively bored, but yet time passed within the blink of an eye as you went back and forth with Mattheo. Somewhere between discussing the possibility of Longbottom running an underground exotic plant ring and arguing over the best Smiths song, the sun had set over the horizon. Mattheo rubbed his eyes and yawned. 

“You look knackered, Riddle,” you teased, patting the spot beside you. “Do you want to lie down for a bit?”

Chocolate brown eyes widened at you. “Lie down? With you? On your bed?” 

“Yes, that’s typically how people do it.” You smirked as he shot you an apprehensive look. “Unless you’re too scared.”’

Never one to back down from a challenge, Mattheo lifted the covers and gestured for you to make room. “Scoot over, then.” 

The jest seemed to have backfired on you because now Mattheo was crawling into bed and making himself completely at home. All the apprehension from earlier melted as he pulled you against him, his chest pressed against your back as he nuzzled into the crook of your shoulder. You stifled a giggle as Mattheo released a satisfied little sigh. 

Mattheo wrapped his arms around you until you were covered in the scent of amber, cinnamon, and leather. You never expected to unearth the fact that Mattheo Riddle was a great cuddler, but yet here you were, reaping the benefits of this newfound revelation. He slipped his fingers through yours and nuzzled closer. 

"Who would've known that Mattheo Riddle was such a great cuddler?"

"If you tell anyone—"

"You'll hex me. Put a curse on my family. Set my possessions on fire. Yes, I know, Riddle. You keep threatening me, but you never follow through. I'm starting to think that you're losing your touch."

Mattheo squeezed your hip before twining your legs together. "I wouldn't test me, Y/N. You're in a very vulnerable position right now."

You chuckled as he scooted even closer. "Maybe, but you won't do anything."

"Why's that, princess?"

"You like me too much," you retorted, chuckling as Mattheo buried his face in your hair. "One day without me and you're already a needy mess."

"You infuriate me," Mattheo whispered against your ear. "But you're also the best part of my day. I couldn't imagine fighting with anyone else but you, my dear nemesis."

"I totally loathe you, Mattheo Riddle."

He chuckled as you snuggled into him. "I loathe you too, Y/N Y/L/N."

The irony of the statement contrasted with how tangled up you were wasn't lost on you. For two people who supposedly hated each other, cuddling with your enemy had never felt so right. The steady beat of Mattheo's heart lulled you towards sleep. You were slowly succumbing to its hypnotic lullaby until Mattheo's voice broke through the silence.

“Y/N?” He murmured against your hair.

You shifted, your eyes feeling heavy as his warmth enveloped you. “Hmm?” 

Mattheo’s voice was low and gravelly, flowing like honey in your ears. “This is nice.” 

You smiled against the pillow, staring at your intertwined fingers. “Better than chicken noodle soup?” 

You felt him grin against your skin before he leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss on your temple. “Way better than soup.” 

TAGLIST

@annaisabookworm @bubybubsters @criesinlies @niktwazny303 @therealallisonspear @athenalikethegoddess @clairesjointshurt @vixzwrites @elle4404

#a cuddle from him could reset my brain chemistry #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle fluff

[scoonsalicious]

Like A Fairy Tale

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Dating Bucky Barnes had been like living a fairy tale, but as he distances himself from you and your relationship, you come to the realization that maybe fairy tales aren't meant to come true.

Warnings: Language to make Steve blush, mentions of alcohol use, implied sex, angst with a happy ending.

Word Count: 3.4k This is my very first posted fic, and I am very nervous but I hope you like it! If I've missed any warnings, please tell me so I can add them. Much love and thanks to my bestie @jmeelee for indulging my obsession and dropping everything to read this when I sent it to her <3 Please pardon any spelling/grammar errors. I write for 18+, so minors DNI. _____________________________________________________________

Once upon a time, being Bucky Barnes’ girl had felt like living in a fairy tale. He was everything your younger self had ever dared to dream of in a Prince Charming– attentive, affectionate, kind, and oh, how he made you laugh! You were the envy of all of your friends, the very definition of #couplegoals, and you thanked your lucky stars every night that the two of you had found one another, despite all the odds.

But fairy tales aren’t real. 

You weren’t sure exactly when it started, but somewhere in the third year of your relationship, after you’d moved into a handsome brownstone in Brooklyn together, after you’d adopted a fluffy white kitten, Bucky started pulling away from you. The steps that took him from you were small at first– he was taking on more and more missions, opting to stay gone for longer periods of time. Days would go by, and they’d turn into weeks, then a month or two at a time would go by where you wouldn’t see him. 

At first, it hadn’t been terrible– Bucky had always made sure to contact you each and every day. A video call whenever he could, a phone call or text when he couldn’t, but slowly, so slowly you barely noticed, the calls stopped coming all together. Sure, he’d answer when you called him… when he could, which wasn’t always possible on a mission, and you hated acting needy and taking him away from his work, so eventually, you stopped reaching out, too. 

When he was home, you were like ships passing in the night. You always offered to take time off of work so you could spend some time with him before he was set to head out again, but he never wanted you to jeopardize your career on his account. Your reunions would always be passionate, but short-lived, a few hot and heavy nights before he took off once more to save the world. 

You tried not to let it bother you. You really, really did. His job was so important. People’s lives relied on him. Where did you get off getting upset over that? So, you kept it to yourself. Until you couldn’t. Not any more.

“Y/N,” your best friend, Lainy, cornered you at her annual New Year’s Eve party, “where’s Barnes? He’s been leaving you to go solo for months now. I don’t think I’ve seen you with him since Mark’s St. Patrick’s Day Party.”

Ouch. “He’s working, Lainy,” you told her, not wanting to admit that March had been the last time the two of you had gone out together, let alone spent more than three days in a row in each other’s company. 

“Yeah, he was ‘working’ over the Memorial Day trip, and the 4th of July BBQ, and Jack and Alice’s wedding, and your aunt’s funeral.” You cringed internally as she applied air quotes to ‘working.’ “And he was ‘working’ on your birthday, and Christmas. Babe, he’s been leaving you alone for almost an entire year. What’s going on? Are you sure there isn’t someone else?”

The worst part was, you knew there wasn’t, or at least, no one individual. When he’d first started distancing himself, of course another woman was the first thing that came to your mind, and you weren’t proud of yourself, but you’d gone through his phone to search for evidence of an affair… multiple times, and repeatedly came up with nothing. And bless Bucky’s heart, but he didn’t have the technological know-how to hide an infidelity from you. Granted, that didn’t negate the possibility that he was randomly hooking up with people while he was away. You’d have to be stupid to not consider the possibility.

You could have asked Steve. You didn’t think Captain America had it in him to lie to you about something like that, but you didn’t want him reporting on your suspicions back to Bucky, nor did you think you could stand to see the look of pity in his eye if he had to tell you that yes, Bucky was cheating on you while you anxiously awaited his return every night. So, you kept the suspicions to yourself. 

Your conversation with Lainy had left you deflated. Here it was New Year’s Eve, and you were alone, the man you loved god knew where– just not with you. How many more holidays and milestones and everyday nights were you going to spend by yourself, waiting for a man who never seemed to want to be home with you anymore? This wasn’t the kind of life you wanted, the kind of life you deserved. 

You made your way to the kitchen to refill your glass of wine. You’d probably already had too many, but you needed to drown the despair that was slowly filling you up. As you poured an exceptionally generous glass, a man entered the kitchen. You recognized him– Harris, a cousin of Lainy’s who had flirted with you relentlessly for years before you had started seeing Bucky. 

“Y/N!” he exclaimed, his eyes lighting up upon seeing you, “it’s been awhile.” He enveloped you in a friendly hug. “How’ve you been?”

You smiled and exchanged pleasantries, catching up on the overall brushstrokes of your life. 

“I’m sorry about your breakup,” he offered gently, after you’d exhausted the usual small talk.

“My breakup?” you asked, brow piqued.

“Last few events I’ve seen you at, you’ve been alone. I assumed you and Barnes…” he left the thought floating, the implication hanging in the air: Barnes has left you alone, I assumed you broke up.

You huffed out a laugh. God. Was your relationship actually over and you were the only one dumb enough to not see it? 

“If you aren’t seeing anyone,” Harris continued, “I would really love to take you out. You’ve gotta know I’ve been into you for ages, and I figure if I don’t shoot my shot now, who knows when I’ll have another chance.”

You cocked your head and looked at him, taking in his earnest demeanor. Here was a man who genuinely wanted to spend time with you. Why were you waiting on someone who no longer wanted to be around?

“Um, I might have to get back to you on that, Harris,” you told him before excusing yourself. You needed air. 

You found yourself on Lainy’s balcony, the air deceptively mild for the end of December in Manhattan. Alone with your thoughts, you pulled out your phone and dialed Bucky’s number. It went straight to voicemail.

“Someone asked me out on a date tonight,” you said into the recording, your voice choked with tears you didn’t want to shed. “And I think I might say yes, because, honestly Buck, what are we even doing anymore? You’re never here, and I��m always alone. I tried. I tried so fucking hard to not let it get to me, because your work’s important. I know that. I do, and I’m not begrudging you for your job. But… but I can’t keep on like this. I can’t even remember the last time we spent more than three days together. Isn’t that crazy? Three days. Everyone thinks you’re cheating on me. Did you know that? You’re away so much that everyone I know is convinced you’re fucking someone else. Maybe you are, or maybe you already left me, but I’ve been too stupid to notice; if that’s the case, you could have just told me.” 

You kept your composure as you left the message. You weren’t angry at him; you never could be. You were just tired. So tired, and so lonely. 

“All I know is that it’s another night where I’m all by myself, wishing you were here, wanting to talk to you, to feel you, and you’re just… not. You’re off doing something, or someone, more important than me, and I used to be okay with that, but I can’t be anymore. I deserve more than waiting on you, Buck. I deserve to be someone’s priority. I really wish I could have been yours, the way you were mine. 

“So, let’s just call it, okay? Your heart’s obviously not in it anymore, and mine is too tired of being hurt and alone. We’ll have to figure out what to do about the house. I’m keeping Alpine, though. You haven’t been here for her, either, and it wouldn’t be fair of you to take her if you’re never going to be around.”

Inside, you could hear the rest of the party as they counted down to midnight. When they reached zero, the night erupted in fireworks, and you could hear cheers and cars honking their horns throughout the city below you.

“Huh,” you said into your phone, “it’s midnight. Happy New Year, Buck. I hope it ends up being a good one for you, and I’m sorry for whatever I did that made you decide you didn’t want to spend this last one with me.”

You hung up the phone and the tears finally fell as you slid down the balcony railing until you were crouched on the floor. You weren’t sure how long you sat there crying, but eventually Lainy found you, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders and ushering you into her spare room. She helped you change out of your cocktail dress and into a spare pair of pajamas, and helped you wash your face before tucking you into bed. She left you with a glass of water and a kiss on the forehead, promising that tomorrow would be better, that the next best chapter of your life was about to begin, but as you drifted into a fitful sleep, you couldn’t find the will to believe her.

You woke the next morning with a throbbing headache, the alcohol and the tears doing nothing but dehydrating you into agony. You grabbed your phone to check the time, but the battery had died in the night. From the slant of the sun coming in from the guest room window, it looked to be late morning or early afternoon. 

You changed back into your dress, thanking Lainy for her help and making a small joke about doing the walk of shame in your clothes from the night before. You avoided her questions about what had happened, promising to go over it at length at the weekend after you’d had some time to process. You weren’t in the best headspace to get into at the moment.

Fortunately, your best friend knew you well enough not to pry, and you said your goodbyes, plans for brunch on Sunday having been made. You weren’t eager to get back home, to be surrounded by reminders of Bucky, when all you wanted was the man, himself. But he was your ex-boyfriend now, you supposed. You were going to have to come to terms with that sooner than later. Besides, Alpine needed to be fed, and you weren’t going to abandon her.

Your keys clicked in the lock as you opened your front door. “Al, baby,” you called, kicking off your heels and closing the door behind you, “Mommy’s home. You hungry, sweetie?”

You began making your way back toward the kitchen when a loud crash from upstairs got your attention. You rolled your eyes; what had the cat knocked over now? 

But then there was the roar of a body barreling down the upstairs hall and toward the stairs, leaving you frozen where you stood. You cast a glance to where you’d left your phone in your purse by the door. Too far away to reach in time to call for help as the intruder came pounding down the stairs. 

A massive figure rounded the corner, nearly knocking you over.

“Bucky?” You blinked, sure your eyes were playing tricks on you, but no– there he stood, and he looked like shit. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days, and his eyes were swollen and red-rimmed. He’d obviously been wearing the same clothing for at least a day, if not more.

“Y/N,” he breathed, throwing his arms around you and wrapping you in an almost bone-crushing embrace. “Sweetheart, I was so worried.”

“What are you doing here, Buck?” you asked him, pulling away from him. God, you wanted to let him hold you, but you just couldn’t. Not anymore.

Bucky cupped your face in his hands, blue eyes desperately searching yours. “I got your message. Doll, it fucking broke my heart. I came straight home, but you weren’t here, and I was terrified that you were gone; that you’d left me for good.”

You scoffed. “I’m not the one who leaves, Bucky.”

He flinched at your words. “I know, Baby. I know, and ’m so sorry. I had no idea. I shoulda known what leavin’ you so much was doin’ to you, ‘cause it was doin’ it to me, too. When I heard you say that people– that you– thought I was cheating on you, that I had neglected you so much you thought I found someone else, that I could ever love anyone else, ever want anyone else– I’ve never hated myself more, doll. I can’t stand that you even had those thoughts in your head for one second, because it’s always been you. There’s never been anyone else. You’re it.”

“Then why have you been gone?” you asked him in a whisper. “If there’s no one else, and I’m it, why don’t you ever want to be with me? Why do you keep leaving?” 

Bucky ran both his hands along his face. “God, it feels so stupid now,” he said with a sigh. “But I was trying to save–”

“Trying to save the world, yeah, I know,” you interrupted him, annoyed. “Trust me, I’m well aware that I can’t compete with that. But I needed to know you thought we were worth saving, too, and you never did.”

Bucky started laughing then, and you scoffed. “Wow, you don’t have to rub it in, Bucky.”

“No, no– Sweetheart, no!” he shook his head. “That’s not it, at all. Hold on.” He went to the foyer and grabbed his go-bag; you had missed it when you walked in. Coming back to the kitchen, he put it on the table, opening it up and extracting a folded piece of paper and handing it to you.

It was a real estate listing for a farmhouse Upstate, with acreage on the Hudson. You and Bucky had talked about what kind of house you would buy if the situation had ever presented itself, and it was almost as if you’d dreamed it up.

You looked from the paper back to Bucky. “I don’t understand,” you told him.

“It needs pretty extensive renovations,” he told you. “I wanted to take on enough overtime to have the money for them and make a good dent on the mortgage, but it needed more work than I originally thought. And, I have to come clean– I haven’t been one hundred percent honest with you about where I’ve been spending all my time.” He looked up at you through his lashes, head bent down in shame.

“But… but, you said there wasn’t anyone else,” you stammered, heart ready to beat out of your chest. 

“Oh god! No, and I mean that! There isn’t, I swear! God, I’ve fucked this up so bad!” Bucky tugged at his hair in frustration. “I’ve been going on extra missions, but sometimes, Sam, Steve, and I go Upstate to do some work on the house, to cut down the costs so I could still make my timeline.”

“You already bought it?” you asked, your voice flat. You were in shock. “You want to move out? Away from me?”

Bucky moaned in distress and drew you to him again. “No! God, I’m doing this all wrong. I want us to move there, together. To make it the perfect house. The perfect home for me, my wife and our stupid fur baby.”

You stilled at his words. “I’m sorry, your what?”

Bucky smiled at you sheepishly as he reached back into his go-bag. “I’ll have you know that I had an entire plan. Was gonna have the house ready by Valentine’s Day. Take you up there as a surprise, ask you properly, but I fucked that up, so…” He brought his hand back out, holding a small burgundy velvet box. He opened it to reveal a vintage engagement ring, a sapphire instead of a diamond. Your favorite stone.

Bucky got down on one knee. “Y/N,” he began as his voice choked up a bit with emotion, “I know I fucked up for the last eight months. I would completely understand if you can’t forgive me, but I need you to know that I love you. I have only ever loved you, and if you let me, I will spend the rest of my life making up for the fact that, even for a moment, I let you think that you weren’t the most important thing in my life, my number one priority. Will you marry me?”

“Buck…” you began, not sure how to phrase what you were about to say. “What about your job? I can’t keep coming in second to the rest of the world, and I get that it’s selfish of me, but–”

“I quit,” he said simply.

“What?” Your eyes were wide with shock at his statement. 

“The second I heard your voicemail, where you said you wanted to call it because I was never there, I told Steve I was done, that I needed to start putting you first. It wasn’t even a question. I’m officially retired.”

Your mouth hung open. You had hoped he would cut down on his missions, but for him to have quit completely… You gently tugged him to his feet, taking the ring box and running a finger across it.

“It’s lovely,” you told him softly. “Absolutely perfect; exactly what I would have picked for myself.” Bucky beamed at you, pleased. “But I can’t accept it.” His face fell as you gently placed the ring back in his hands. 

“Oh,” he whispered, eyes growing glassy. “I… um, I understand. I fucked up, hurt you. I understand if you don’t want to be with me anymore.”

“I still want to be with you, you idiot,” you admonished him. “But you did hurt me, and we’ve been apart for a long time. We need time to find our way back to each other again, okay? Ask me again on Valentine’s Day, just like you originally planned. Don’t do it now just because you fucked up.” You leaned up on your tip toes and kissed him. “And if it helps make you feel better, I’m probably going to say ‘yes,’ anyway.”

Bucky grinned at you. “Really?” he asked. When you nodded, he picked you up and spun you in  a circle before pressing his lips to yours as if he hadn’t touched you in months. “I promise you, Sweetheart, I’ll do anything I can to make this up to you, I swear it.”

“Anything?” you asked with a smile. “I think I know where you can start.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked you. “And where’s that?”

“Take me to bed, Bucky Barnes,” you said, kissing him again.

Without a word, Bucky swung you over his shoulder and ran with you up the stairs, your squeals and giggles echoing behind him.

Much, much later, when you lay sated together tangled in limbs and sheets with Alpine snuggled next to your heads, Bucky played with your fingers as you rested your head on his bare chest.

“So, Doll,” he said, kissing the pads of each of your fingers, “you gonna tell me who had the nerve to ask my girl out on a date?” 

You laughed. “Lainy’s cousin, Harris. I suppose I’ll have to text him now and tell him I’m not interested.”

“Hell no, you’re not interested,” Bucky chuffed. “Gonna have to remind that punk you’ve already got a boyfriend. The position has been filled.”

“That’s the thing, though,” you said, planting a kiss on his nose. “I don’t have a boyfriend anymore, do I?”

Bucky’s face fell. “But I thought you said–”

“I’ve got myself a fiance.”

Bucky tightened his grip around you, drawing you even closer to his warmth. “Yeah, okay. I gotta admit I like the sound of that a lot better.”

Your entire relationship with Bucky Barnes might not have played out like a fairy tale, but in that moment, you were more sure than ever that you two would get your happily ever after.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky x you #james bucky buchanan barnes #winter soldier #marvel mcu #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n

[munson-blurbs]

Eddie Munson x Shy!Reader

Summary: Max and Lucas are tired of their friends silently pining over each other but never making a move, so when the Winter Formal rolls around, they take matters into their own hands.

Warnings: mutual pining, idiots in love, fluffy fluff

WC: 1.8k

A/N: Happy anniversary to the love of my life, @corroded-hellfire 💚 one year ago today, we met in person for the first time, and my life has been infinitely better ever since. Thank you for being my best friend. I love you more than Dustin loves his Weird Al shirt. Red, this fic is for you.

Divider credit to @saradika

“Kill me now.”

Three words uttered by none other than Max Mayfield, sliding her lunch tray onto the table and sitting down with an irritated sigh. 

You look at her with an amused grin. “What is it this time? Bombed a pop quiz? Got detention for flipping off a teacher—again?” Her brazen, flippant attitude provided many entertaining moments, so long as you weren’t on the receiving end of it. 

Max shakes her head, spearing a limp macaroni noodle with her plastic fork. “I wish.” She holds up two tickets to the Winter Formal. “Lucas is dragging me to this bullshit. ‘All the other basketball guys’ girlfriends are going,’” she mocks him in an octave much lower than his actual voice, “so I guess that means I have to follow suit.”

Bringing a hand to your heart, you jut out your lower lip in mock-pity. “Oh, no; your boyfriend wants to show you off at a school dance! How will you ever survive?” 

Max doesn’t miss a beat. “You could go, too,” she says, blue eyes pleading. “Keep me company when the guys inevitably bail to get wasted in the woods.”

“I don’t—”

“You don’t need a date,” she insists, reading your mind before the words can leave your mouth. “I’m telling you, Lucas is gonna ditch me as soon as Jason and Patrick show up.” She takes your hand between both of hers. “Please? I’ll even tell Ms. Kelly the lengths you went to for your poor, troubled freshie.”

You exhale, knowing that she doesn’t need to go to all of that trouble. You’d started off the school year as her peer mentor, but just a few months later, you two have become close friends. “Fine, I’ll go,” you acquiesce, laughing when she pumps her fists victoriously. “But I’m not gonna be happy about it.”

You return to your own lunch, completely missing the mischievous look that graces her freckled face. 

Unbeknownst to you, a similar discussion is had at Hellfire Club later that same afternoon. 

“Absolutely not,” Eddie scoffs, folding his arms across his chest. “Nice try, Sinclair, but I wouldn’t be caught dead at some lame dance.”

“Seriously,” Jeff smirks from his position across the table. “He’s never been to a single one in his ten years of high school.”

Eddie flips him off casually. “It’s only six, asshole. But that doesn’t matter, because I’m not dressing up in some penguin suit to drink unspiked punch with a bunch of shitty people.”

“C’mon, dude,” Lucas says, his tone bordering on a whine. “If you don’t go, I’m gonna be stuck with the jocks all night, and they just wanna suck face with their girlfriends.”

“And you don’t?” Gareth quips. 

Lucas rolls his eyes. “Not in front of everyone. And I don’t need a front-row seat to their performances, either.” He turns his attention back to the Dungeon Master. “Look, I’m desperate. Mike’ll be visiting his grandma and Dustin’s grounded because of his D-plus in Spanish.”

Eddie narrows his eyes. “What about Huey, Dewey, and Louie over here?” he asks, gesturing to the three remaining club members. 

Their collective responses are jumbled excuses; Eddie swears one of them says he’s going kayaking—in mid-December in Indiana—but he doesn’t bother to sift through their lies. “You owe me, Sinclair,” he declares, pointing his forefinger at the underclassman. “Big time.”

The next few weeks leading up to the Winter Formal are spent meticulously making plans. For someone who seemed so disinterested in this dance, Max is paying careful attention to each detail. 

You walk out of the dressing room in a velvet emerald green dress that hits just above the knee. Max is beaming as she adjusts the off-the-shoulder sleeves and smooths down any creases. 

“You look really nice,” she says, nodding her head. She’s trying to temper her enthusiasm, but you can sense her excitement. “I can’t wait to tell Lucas.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Lucas? Why would he care?” He’s a nice kid—more in tune with emotions than the average fourteen-year-old boy—but that doesn’t constitute an interest in your fashion choices. 

Max’s cheeks burn as red as her hair. “Uh, well, seeing you happy makes me happy, and seeing me happy makes him happy, so…everyone’s happy?” she finishes lamely. She clears her throat as if expelling the awkwardness from the conversation. “Anyway, let’s buy this dress so we can look for shoes.”

“Yeah, okay.” You’re not fully convinced, but you brush it off and steel your nerves to ask a question. “Is anyone else gonna be there that we know?” You really want to know whether Eddie Munson is going to be there, but you can’t say the quiet part aloud. 

“Probably,” she shrugs, a bit too quickly, but she’s pushing you back behind the curtain to change before you can inquire more. 

“Why does this stupid tie need to be green?” Eddie asks, sifting through the store’s selection with Lucas by his side. 

“Uh, Christmas colors,” Lucas stammers, fumbling for a decent explanation other than the contents of his secret phone call with Max earlier today. “And, y’know, red is way overdone, so…” he trails off lamely, going back to the display table and hoping Eddie drops the matter. 

They find exactly what they’re looking for—not without Eddie complaining about putting in too much effort just to be a third wheel—and make their way over to the food court. Eddie makes a beeline for the Pizza Hut when he stops dead in his tracks. “Shit, Sinclair; we gotta go,” he says urgently, clapping a hand on the younger boy’s shoulder and steering him away from the fast food. 

“What the hell? I’m hungry!”

Eddie shakes his head, curls brushing against his shoulders. “Look, man.” He discreetly points to his left, where you and Max are giggling at the Orange Julius. “We can’t let them see us.”

“Dude, she’s like the nicest person ever,” Lucas rebuts. “Even Max likes her, and Max pretty much hates everyone.”

“That’s not the problem.” Eddie rakes his ringed fingers through his hair, wincing when he snags one on a knot. “The problem is that she’s gonna be all, ‘hi, Eddie; what’re you doing at the mall?’ And I’m gonna be all, ‘just picking out a tie for the Winter Formal.” And then she’ll go, ‘oh, who’s your date?” And then I’ll have to say, ‘I don’t have one; I’m just playing babysitter to some freshmen like a goddamn loser!” He hops back and forth to indicate each character change.

“First of all, ouch,” Lucas quips, “second, go hide in the bathroom if you want, but I’m getting something to eat.”

Eddie exhales an exasperated sigh, giving in and schlepping over to Pizza Hut, one of the few times in his life that he’s trying to be inconspicuous. 

You pull into the school parking lot on the night of the Winter Formal and shift into park before killing the engine. Max is bouncing her leg up and down in the passenger seat, lower lip tucked between her teeth.

“What’s on your mind?” you ask, mistaking her excitement for anxiety. “You know that Lucas would think you look beautiful even if you showed up in a potato sack.” You furrow your brow. “Where is he, anyway? Why didn’t he come with us?”

She mumbles something about not wanting her mom to ask any questions about the relationship, and you take them at face value. Her eyes light up when she spots her boyfriend walking into the school alongside…Eddie Munson?

“Eddie’s here?” you ask in a hushed whisper, feeling sweat prickling under your arms. You’ve been nursing a massive crush on him for ages–one that Max is very much aware of. And now he’s here, dressed in a black suit with his hair pulled back into a low bun at the nape of his neck. “Max, why didn’t you tell me? Who’s he going with?” The idea of him slow dancing with someone else has your stomach turning.

Max just shrugs. “I don’t think he had a date.” Too casual, too blasé–she knows something. “C’mon, let’s go in.” She swings the car door open enthusiastically, leaving you shell-shocked in your seat.

“Maxine Mayfield!” you hiss, using her full government name to drive home your bewilderment, but she just skips ahead. Damn your heeled shoes, slowing you down before you can catch up to her. When you finally do, she just grabs your hand and tugs you towards the guys.

She poorly feigns surprise, jaw dropping as she exclaims, “Eddie? What are you doing here? Oh, my gosh, this is such a coincidence!” She pulls you closer, smiling far too wide. “Lucas and I both brought our upperclassmen friends! What are the odds?”

“Yeah, so weird,” Lucas says, not as loud as Max but just as transparent. He looks at Max before regarding you and Eddie. “Okay, well, we’re gonna go dance–bye!” The two of them scamper off, leaving you alone with Eddie. If their stilted dialogue wasn’t evidence enough, the way Eddie’s tie perfectly matches your dress certainly clears up their intentions.

Eddie speaks first, shoving his hands in his pants pockets and nervously swiveling his body. “I, uh, think we’ve been set up,” he says with a small, awkward chuckle. “I swear, it wasn’t my idea. Not–not that it’s a bad thing, I just meant, like, if you’re uncomfortable with this, I don’t wanna be held responsible.” His cheeks burn red. “Shit, I need to stop talking.”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him with your own kind laugh, “we might as well make the most of it. Get some punch and make fools of ourselves out there?” You gesture towards the gym’s makeshift dance floor; the band has just started playing Journey’s “Faithfully.” Eddie’s nods, following you to an empty space, and you timidly drape your arms over his shoulders. Taking care to avoid an inappropriate touch, he rests his palms on the small of your back. 

His voice is low when he murmurs in your ear, “you look really beautiful tonight.” He clears his throat and speaks again. “You always look really beautiful, though.”

The two of you sway to the music, swapping shy smiles and fleeting but longing glances. As the song ends, you look over your shoulder. “We’re being spied on,” you report, noting the way the two younger kids are watching you from across the room. You consider your next words before eventually deciding to go for it: “Did you talk to Lucas about me as much as I talked to Max about you?”

“Probably more,” Eddie laughs, bringing you a bit closer. “But I’m interested in comparing notes.”

You nod, staving off any lingering nerves. “Maybe after the dance, we can split a burger from Benny’s and discuss?”

Eddie presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “Yeah,” he says; you can feel his lips move against your skin, “I’d like that.”

--

#eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie x you #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things

[alexias-putellas]

clingy // a.bonmatí x reader

a.bonmatí x reader

based on this request!

cute lil fluffy fic

-

with a heaved sigh, you pushed open the apartment door, dragging your suitcase in behind you. the quiet humming you could hear stopped and was replaced by the sound of footsteps.

aitana appeared in your line of vision and your body immediately felt lighter, the sight of her never failing to bring you comfort.

“amor!” she called happily, wrapping her arms around your neck as soon she was close enough.

you melted into her arms, resting your forehead on her shoulder. “missed you, tana.”

she pressed a kiss to your cheek and held you closer, running her nails along the back of your neck. you pulled back after another minute and one of her hands cradled your face, her thumb running along your cheek.

“you look tired.” she said softly.

if anyone would’ve said that to you, you would’ve punched them. hard. but you knew aitana meant no harm, she also wasn’t wrong.

you were tired, mentally and physically. losing out on two major international tournaments in a row wasn’t easy to deal with especially since aitana could only comfort you over the phone.

“i am, i could probably sleep for a week.” you laughed lightly, leaning into her touch.

“go have a shower, you need to relax.”

despite your protests that you could do it, she grabbed your suitcase and began unpacking as you slipped into the shower.

the hot water felt glorious on your sore muscles and you hated to tear yourself away from the feeling. once you were dressed in a pair of shorts and an old barcelona shirt, you made your way into the bedroom.

your heart melted at the sight of the spaniard sitting on your bed, a hair brush and a hairdryer laying next to her, a bright smile on her face. “ven aquí, let me help you.”

you sat between her legs on the bed, resting your hands on her knees. she gently ran the brush through your hair, murmuring apologies whenever she was forced to untangle any of it.

she ran her fingers through the ends before turning on the hairdryer. you hummed in content as she massaged your scalp, squeezing her knee in appreciation. you loved it when anyone dried your hair for you but having aitana do it was different.

your eyes fluttered shut and you tried your best not to fall asleep, wanting to spend as much time with the spaniard before you crashed.

“done.” aitana whispered softly to you after another five minutes, tapping your shoulder.

you blinked sleepily and leaned back into her. “gracias.”

she wrapped her arms around you and kissed your temple, running her fingers along your arms. a comfortable silence fell over you both.

aitana soon moved from behind you and you whined, reaching out for her. she shook her head and gently pushed you back before disappearing out of the room.

you stared at the door in confusion, putting everything away just as the spaniard re-entered the room.

“bebé,” she huffed, giving you a disapproving look. “you are supposed to be relaxing.”

“i was just tidying, i’ve hardly moved—“

“no,” she shook her head and motioned to the bed. “get in.”

the snacks in her arms gave away the plan so you quickly crawled under the covers, resting against the headboard. you watched as aitana placed the snacks in front of you and raced around the room, grabbing the tv remote and flicking the lights off.

she quickly joined you and loaded your favourite movie, throwing her legs over yours. a small smile made its way onto your face as you picked up a handful of popcorn, ever so tempted to flick it in aitana’s direction.

you decided not to, shoving it into your mouth instead. her head came to rest on your shoulder, one of her hands slipping up the back of your jersey, fingers drawing circles on your skin.

you breathed deeply, running your hand through her hair. you knew that mapi would tease you both relentlessly in training about aitana’s tendency to stick to you like glue after international camps but you loved it.

aitana never failed to make you feel special but there was something about the way she’d dote on your every need without a fuss that had your stomach fluttering, love and adoration flowing through your veins.

the sound of your girlfriend’s laughter brought you back down to earth and you realised that she’d inched herself onto your lap, wrapping your arms around her instantly.

aitana melted into you, intertwining your fingers and leaning up to press a soft kiss to your jaw. “t'estimo.”

“love you too, tana.”

your clingy clingy girl.

#woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso #aitana bonmati imagine #aitana bonmati #aitana bonmati x reader

[futureplayboibunnie]

let them bleed for all I care

Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

being fuckbuddies with Miguel O’Hara wasn’t easy when you were both intensely yearning

another angsty so damn wrapped up in romance brainrot blurb piece of this man because i’m still insane. this is definitely a self serve fic but idc i’m sharing anyway. ALSO THERES A PART 2!

warnings: angsty sweet nothings and confessions, mutual INTENSE pining, sensuallll (tehehe), waking up in bed, lil fluffy

A dim glow coated your room and in turn, clutched at your heart. The rows of streetlights outside beaming against the deep dark horizon and peeping through the unsheathed window offered the perfect fuzzy gleam to make Miguel's face look even more perfect. Being twisted and disheveled in bedsheets with a man that struggled with letting anyone in would be a shocking revelation two months beforehand.

Miguel was...untrusting and cold, everyone seemed to come to that conclusion with him. He was a force of nature, something that you once thought was inhuman and unfeeling, that harsh and abrasive exterior being a tremendous cover for the lack of constructive outlets he had. At least he knew where he stood with everyone, living with himself in isolation was a form of self-preservation- and he was fine with it, but he wasn't happy with it. He had a tendency to lose himself in his rage or his panic, his body bore the brunt of it all. He would practically work his fingers to the bone in order to not talk to anyone, it was definitely a highlighted page of his own personal book of dramatic effects. You didn't want to just see the picture of himself he's painted- you wanted to fucking admire it like a lovesick fool. There were so many failed attempts to get closer to him, he was so dedicated to proving himself to be this leader that didn't need the weakness of having anyone, and that in turn only made him spiral into his own misery. Miguel tried so hard to not let you in, it was almost admirable if it wasn't so damn saddening. Every time you thought you were getting closer to him, he dismissed you and bit a clippy ‘’I'm fine. Leave.’’ It wasn't until you took advantage of the fact he doesn't have spidey senses and just swung onto his platform and just hugged him everything just went blank. Ever since then, he's called your name in the dark and contemplated on the zeal in which he would destroy those who would harm you. He had denied every single impulse he's ever had for you out of some misbegotten respect to his own personal impending doom to which he was still so attached.

Being fuck buddies had its benefits, no strings attached. You just had to tamper down your own feelings for him. It was easy enough for a while. You'd fuck, clean up and then leave in different directions. The routine changed though. You'd lay in bed a lot longer, you'd just hold each other and feel each other's skin. Neither of you would talk about it after. Miguel was lonely. He didn't like to admit it but he was. These clandestine moments with you were the only opportunity he had to breathe and let out everything inside of him.

Your head was on his chest, naked bodies tangled with each other as his arms held you steady and embraced you, your leg curled up and rested on his thighs, one hand buried in your hair and the other one resting on the dip of your waist feeling the curve of your skin. You were so warm, so soft, so good. Miguel liked it when you touched him like this, his body just constantly craved your contact.

Romance was never on the table for a man like him so obviously his body acted like it, he hadn't had the time for it until you came into his life and left your everlasting and distinctive mark. You fucked like a pornstar. Miguel's fingers stroked through your hair, breathing in the pretty scent committing it to memory. The atmosphere between you both was heavy and dense like you needed to talk about something but neither of you was committing to budge your will, you gazed at the marks on vour arms. The son of a bitch was so rough... just how you liked it, the punctures in your skin that his claws made only showcased such a thing. Your brows furrowed as you hummed at the sight of it.

‘’Too rough?’’ Miguel raised his eyebrow at your purpose, his voice gritty and not sympathetic in the slightest.

‘’No...perfect.’’ You replied under your breath, slightly saddened that this is all you'll ever be to each other. Just a fuck. The way you said it made his heart cave and a sense of confusion transferred onto his face. Is that what you thought of him? Or just the way he could fuck you. He turned his face to the side to gape at you with burning eyes, you looked so hazy and angelic, he grabbed your face in both of his hands and cradled it whilst using his thumb to smooth out the skin of your cheeks. Your eyes widened at his unexpected action of tenderness, his thumb traveled to your supple lips conveying a desperate and willing look on your face. Miguel's brows wilted sincerely and his mouth unhinged open as if he was going to say something.

“'What is it?”You murmured wantonly, a strange flame of desire burning into your chest, he has the ability to make or break you. He's always had the power to do that, you just weren't sure if he was willing to see it.

“'I've been...having bad dreams.'” Miguel's eyes diverted from yours as if he was embarrassed to say it, to admit that he was afraid. He wanted to ask something from you, he was sure it was going over the boundary of fuck buddies but he needed to ease his straining mind.

“'About?'” You implored but he just gave you a hard scowl filled with hubris. You sighed at his silence and just grabbed the hand that was on your face and kissed his palm. Miguel felt every single hair on his body stands to attention, litter of goosebumps trailed at his back at your ministrations and he felt it echo through his very soul. Both of you were going too far, breaching the terms of your agreement but you were two sad and lonely people trying to fill the void with the warmth of another person's body. “For God's sake, when will you stop being so noble?”

Miguel drank in your question and he uttered the words he knew would get him kicked out. “Can I stay tonight?”

“Miguel-“

“Please.”

Your hands raked through his hair, needy eyes searching his flitting from perfect feature to feature trying to understand if any of this was real. Did he feel what you felt for him? Or was he just too tired to go home? You didn't want to ponder the latter, you captured your lips with his gently as a confirmation. Your head rested against his chest, tracing your fingers against his skin like an odd form of tenderness. You didn't like what you were feeling: you were starting to fall in love with him.

-

Miguel awoke in a daze, his vision blurring into shapes and stars as the nightfall outside seeped into your room. He felt your warmth beside him and it soothed the wits about him, your steady breathing offered an equilibrium that he never had. A wave of protectiveness washed over him- his sentiments have always stayed the same when it came to you. What besides love inspires such pain and yearning?

Miguel leaned in and kissed behind your ear as you mumbled into nothing and your hands slid beneath the pillow as you stretched. Your hair fell with such ease and grace, a hazed-out mess on the bedsheets as your frame indented into the mattress, slivers of skin peeking out as you tangled and breathed. If anyone laid a finger on you it would be his undoing. He'd send them screaming back to hell, the dark thought sliced through his brain and he glanced at you to nullify it. He leaned up and sat on the edge of his side of the bed, Miguel glanced at you again to make sure you were sleeping. He clenched his jaw and a hand ran down his naked back and rested on his neck- as if he were trying to find the words to start a confession. A bubbling of words started to build up within him, he felt a need to just verbally say this out loud to you but without you actually knowing of it consciously. Miguel elbows dug into his legs as he gazed at his intertwined fingertips and let out a breath, finally finding the words he's always wanted to say to you.

“I don't know what's happening to me,” He began “I don't know why I've let it get this far. I shouldn't have given into my own selfish demands. Hell, I've done it once before and a whole fuckin’ universe collapsed...dios mio.” He raked an exasperated hand through his hair at the painful memory that was seared into his mind. “You just had to ruin everything for me, you just had to fuckin’ touch me and I was yours, now what kind of pathetic does that make me? What do I do with all this? What do I do with you?” Miguel paused to regain his self control and calm his frustrations but a sliver of sadness dropped into his chest instead.

“It's funny... You're so easy to hate. You're so easy to love. What the hell do I do with this hermosa? Just tell me what to do and I'll do it, just tell me what you want...tell me what you want from me...cause it feels like you're just taking it at this point. You're taking from me and now I'm fuckin’ broken down and hungry for you like a dog waiting for scraps hermosa. The rational part of me hates it but the other rabid part is just begging at your feet. I'm like a fuckin’ mutt for you...I'm in love with you mi vida.” Those words fit perfectly in his mouth: I'm in love with you. It tasted fucking glorious, it tasted sweet and sad at the same time, it was revolutionary. It was like those words were destined to come out of his mouth, just for you to hear. “It's ironic because you'd probably kick me in the teeth for saying such a 'formidable’ thing but I'm not blind, I can't deny what's in front of me and I don't want to keep ignoring it.’

A soft inhale of your breath ended his confession, you twisted your body to the side as your cheek was planted in the pillow facing him. You stretched out your arm onto his side of th bed as if you were reaching out for him, wanting to find his warmth. Miguel couldn't help but admire you in a trance like state while you were like this, at your most natural, at your most beautiful. He'd seen your face contorted in pleasure when he fucked into you, your body arch into his touch when his face was buried between the sweet valley of your thighs but he had never seen you look like this. Like an angel from the clouds as the white sheet barely covered you- you looked like a painting. Your long lashes were fanned out against your cheek and your lips were parted for your gentle breathing, the swell of your chest rising and falling in a synchronised rhythm. You looked perfect. He hated it.

Miguel slipped back into bed and under the sheets, finding your warmth once again. He held onto you, his palm clutching at your waist as your head eased onto his chest. His brows tensed before he kissed your temple, a thought occured to him. Every day he was with you and had you were the days he would go home and sleep soundly and didn't dream, he hadn't thought there was a correlation, now he connected the dots and the picture became all the more clearer. There was nothing he could do. He just had to suppress his needs and desires and put everything else in front of him.

-

Your eyes seeped in the tiredness the beginning of the morning offered, and the chirping of the birds outside of your window echoed through your ears, serving as a gentle reminder of the night before. A heavy feeling set in your chest as you turned your gaze to Miguel's broad and bare back, worry glazed over your eyes as you remembered the words he uttered last night when he thought you were asleep. You couldn't believe it...you wouldn't believe that all this time you weren't alone in your yearning. You couldn't quite grasp that you had Miguel O’Hara on his knees, begging to love you.

You wanted to take it from him so bad but a pang of guilt started eating at you. Your arms immediately embraced his frame as you nuzzled his neck and inhaled the deep cadence of the lingering notes of cologne from last night. Miguel's soft copper hair was messy and disrupted, without thinking you raked your fingers through his hair. Miguel was already awake, he felt it and he grumbled into it, melting against your blessed touch. Your other hand traced down his broad shoulders and his back, feeling his skin, tracing the pads of your fingers down his warm, golden flesh.

"Hmm." Miguel breathed raggedly at the sensation. “Morning.” you kissed his shoulder as you nuzzled your face into his neck, inhaling deeply. Miguel's eyes widened at your action, unsure as to why you were showering him with affection- it's never been like this before. You've never woken up with each other before. Miguel struggled to leave and get out of your hold and it seemed like you were doing it on purpose.

“Don't leave...”You whispered woefully in his ear, planting a kiss on the base of his neck. “Don't leave me...” Miguel was stunned and it was obvious by the way his brows furrowed, he wasn't sure if it was the fact he just woke up or if it was his half-crazed manic mind playing tricks on him.

He twisted his body to face you, his cheek buried in the pillow and the look you shared was that of pure longing, your hands went to his hair again, tracing the outlines of his face with your thumb. “I heard you...” Your sad eyes were lit by the liquid gold of the sun, Miguel would have been entranced if any other words fell out of those pretty lips of yours. He wasn't so lucky. He heard the exact thing that his very soul was dreading.

“I'm sorry you had to.” Miguel's eyes shot open and glared a hole into your face when he said it, feeling genuinely sorry for you. Instead of saying anything you moved your body and clambered onto his lap and bent down to kiss him tenderly. His calloused palms felt at your thighs and the outskirts of them, your hair fell to the side as your bodies slid over each other. Miguel was confused at what you felt, what you wanted and what you were doing- you were just so damn hard to read sometimes. You nuzzled your head into his neck and breathed him in deeply, his massive arms wrapping around you tightly like he would die if he let go.

"You know, I was never scared of you and I thought that made me stupid. Naive. You name it. You were so good at scaring people off, it was admirable, I couldn't help but be in fucking awe of you when you were being so…dangerous.” You spoke gently as your fingers went to trace something undistinct on his chest. “The others warned me that you'd probably rip my tongue out of my gaping mouth if I ever tried anything at all with you and I was half expecting you to break me in half like a toothpick when I just...held you....for the first time. Even if you did break me in half I would've relished every second of it, I think I've spent so much time practically begging you to just…break me.” Your voice faltered slightly and a smattering of whirlwind emotions started to rise within you. Miguel was hooked on your every word like a dog with a bird at your door. “When you told me you wanted me to touch you and that you wanted to touch me, I felt like... a teenager being asked out by an allstar jock. It was pathetic but I didn't care. It was you...and bit by bit, minute by minute I started to fall in love with you. I thought I was being a fucking idiot because who the hell was I to fall in love with Miguel O'Hara?” Miguel's silence was gruelling and heavy, he didn't want to answer your question becuase if he started he wouldn't be able to stop. His lips pressed against your temple and as always you melted into him.

“Don't think that little of yourself. I don't like it.” He murmured.

“It's not fair to you at all...all of this, I know that. All of these secrets bleeding into each other when you already have the weight of the whole fucking multiverse on those broad and tired shoulders.”

“Let them bleed for all I care.”

#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara angst #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #spiderman 2099 #spiderman x y/n #across the spiderverse

[saiidahyunie]

closer than we've ever been

minatozaki sana x reader ; fluffy, suggestive-ish? 

synopsis: the newsroom is always a good time with your best friend and coworker sana, but maybe there’s something more happening when the cameras aren’t rolling. 

wc: 5.9k

warnings: cursing ; mentions of food and alcohol

♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ : closer by rm

a/n: had a bit of a writing slump the past couple days, but this is one of the two long fics i have planned out and i hope you guys enjoy reading this one!!

sana in a suit sana in a suit sana in a suit sana in a suit sana in a suit sana in a suit omgomgomg its sana in a suit imgonna

—

“what do you know about journalism?” 

you look up from your laptop, glasses hanging from the slim bridge of your nose as sana sits across the table wearing a proud smile, awaiting for your critical opinion. 

“well it’s competitive, scrappy, and most of the media outlets are at each other’s throats most of the time.” you answer, pulling your specs off of your face as sana straightens herself on the seat outside of a local cafe on your college campus. 

sana leans with her head on hand, staring as you go back to continuing work on your laptop. she was aware that you were editing a short video project that you did all yourself with only a phone and a drone. sana sees the perching eyelashes at the bottom of your eyes, the few strands of hair that hovered over your forehead almost mimicking bangs, flashing your eyes at her again, raising your eyebrows as she squints at you—a defense mechanism of her sort. 

“you should consider taking the internship with the local production team in your editing class.” 

“sana, we’ve been over this, i’m only doing this video recording thing as a hobby.” 

“but imagine the good camera work you’ve shown me!” sana starts off, “you can actually get a good decent paying job with the skills that you have now!” 

you lean back from your laptop again, pondering at the proposition that sana had laid out in front of you. rubbing your chin as you consider the many benefits that might come with the offer. the pay would be fine temporarily, but it was the amount of connections that you can branch out from to get more opportunities to showcase your recording and editorial work—sana was good, she backed you into a corner as you smirked at the thought. 

“you really want to do this news job sana?” you ask sana as her eyes widen at the question, nodding profusely as you let out a soft laugh at her eagerness. 

“trust me y/n, just imagine us working at the same job together. it’ll be great!” 

“alright, i hear ya. where do we sign up?” 

—

minatozaki sana was a person who was always looking for an adventure. 

the first time you met her was back in your second year of high school as you were a new transfer student that just moved into town. it had already been about two or three weeks into the academic year, but the transition wasn’t that overwhelming for you since you were already accustomed to being moved around different towns in short spans of time. 

“everyone! we have a new student joining us today.” your english teacher announced to the class. mr. taecyeon was very fond and super nice, so just by meeting him in the first few seconds you didn’t have any worry as you stood at the front of the classroom, clutching the right strap of your backpack as you scanned the five rows of faces that gave you faint smiles. 

“nice to meet you all, my name is y/n.” 

sana was sitting in the back of the classroom as she raised her head up, noticing your calm silver voice with her ears, flashing a look as she took note of your outfit as you wore a simple grey hoodie with tan cargo pants. sana also notices that you were a little bit taller than you looked–given that she was sitting down as she leaned over to the right side of her desk to get a better look at you. you notice a person sticking out as you accidentally meet eyes with sana, looking in a different direction right away while mr. taecyeon stood next to you. 

“alright y/n we already have assigned seats, but you can go ahead and have the empty seat next to sana in the back row.” mr. taecyeon instructed, putting his arm out showing you the desk in the fourth row, sana sitting on the right at the back corner. 

you briskly walk over to the back of the classroom, sneakers squeaking lightly as you set your bag down before seating promptly on the chair. you look over to sana as she does the same, both of you smiling as you bow as a way of acknowledging each other's presence before diverting your attention back to the front of the class.

“now, y/n i know that you’re new so don’t worry we’ll get you up to speed in due time.” mr. taceyeon says, holding an open book flatly on his large palm. “for now you can look over to sana’s book that way you can see what we're going over with in the class currently.” 

you and sana both nod at the teacher’s request, scooting your chair over closer to sana as you observe the different items she had on her desk. a hello kitty pencil pouch, a minimal pen with a cat raising its paw up with the tail as the main button to activate the pen, and a small molang rabbit plush sitting upright against the other student’s chair sitting in front of you.

“i like the stationery you have, it’s cute.” you whisper to sana as sana looks at you with a dorky expression.

“why thank you y/n. i appreciate the compliment.” 

you could immediately tell that sana was very bright and charming given the way her voice sounded. she also looked beautiful, easy on the eye, someone that is inviting—you had nothing to worry about as you and her continued to read on the textbook sitting on the desk. 

your eyes trail off to her binder set on the floor, noticing that she had different cutouts of newspaper headlines and quotes. it was peculiar to look at as you tapped her arm to get her attention. 

“what’s with the ripped newspapers on your binder?” 

“i have a thing with old newspaper articles, i want to be a reporter and journalist in the future.” 

you were intrigued with her profession as you nod at the answer question you just received, placing your eyes back on the words of the textbook, reading along as you follow the lecture that mr. taecyeon was giving the class. 

after forty minutes, the bell rang. the hallway now flooding with students scrambling their way to the next class as you and sana walk out of mr. taecyeon’s class, you leading the way as sana sees the small pink kirby keychain hanging from your bottom zipper. 

“i like your keychain choice, i have a friend named mina who plays video games a lot and also likes kirby.” sana says, you turn around to face square with her as a small lump forms in your throat. 

“oh, thank you.” you reply, “i’ve had this since kindergarten so it’s been stuck with me for forever really.” gazing in the sea of heads as you return your face to sana’s. she was wearing an all black outfit with a fitted sweater, her light brown hair contrasting the scheme as beams an appealing smile at you again. 

“where’s your next class y/n?” 

you had to pause for a second before remembering your new class schedule, “i have biology with mrs. jackson upstairs.” you answer, pointing your finger up to the ceiling as sana parts her lips open at your action. 

“ah i see. my locker is actually next to her class, so i’ll walk with you if that’s okay.” 

“i don’t mind at all sana, i actually don’t know my way around the school at all so i need all the help i can get.” you say, breaking into a light laugh. 

you hear her laugh again, matching hers as you two begin to make your way to the set of stairs down the hallway. it was a quick trip, but you definitely enjoyed the company as you reached the bio class on the second floor, sana stopping at her locker right before the classroom.

“i guess i’ll see you later?” you ask sana, backing up into the open door as sana nods at your question.

“do you wanna have lunch together?” sana abruptly asks you, stopping in your tracks at her offer. 

“sure!” you answer without hesitating, “i’ll see you at the cafeteria then?” 

“you bet, y/n. see you at lunch.” 

—

so that’s how it started really. kind of poetic that sana would be the one to convince you to take the open camerawoman job in the same news outlet that she was working for as a reporter and part-time journalist. 

the years of friendship don’t say enough of how much you and sana have grown close with each other. you and her realize that the bond that was built was one of those rare friendships that isn’t really seen much around these days—almost as if in another universe you and her would always be together somehow. 

sana learned early on that you always had a thing for cameras—recording or taking pictures of anything and everything to capture the moment. you learn that sana was engaged with a lot of the high school extracurricular activities, even being asb leader during senior year of high school. it wasn’t a surprise that she earned the title of “most likely to be a news anchor or reporter” in the yearbook and you egged her on for that. 

separate ways was not an option between you two, so you and sana were extremely happy when you and her got accepted at the same college. you majoring in filmmaking and camera work while sana was dead focused on being a journalist. 

in between those years of hanging out together or with friends, there’s hidden glances of a potential interest—mostly from sana as you were totally oblivious to her looks because it was so natural of her to be bubbly. 

maybe there could be something more, but for now it’s just admiration.

—

“sana! i want you to meet our newest swinger for the camera crew.” the manager dino says to her as he brings you in front of sana. “y/n here told me that she already knows you-”

“of course dino, we’ve known each other for many years now.” sana says with a small laugh as you look away with one eye closed, smirking with the left side of your face.

“good to know! i’ll leave you with her and you can catch her up to speed, she’ll be accompanying you when you head out with your assigned tasks.” dino says brightly as he bows slightly before scouting the room for another potential person/victim to work with.

while he exits himself, you walk forward, twining your fingers with sana’s as you both freak out quietly in small celebration.

“see?! i told you that your portfolio was a good thing to convince them with.” 

“sana, it was a last minute job opening. i’m even surprised that they hired me on the spot.” you say you hear your name being called over to one of the neighboring cameras.

“y/n, we’re gonna start rolling soon!” you hear one of the workers say to you as you flash a loving smile at sana, hands still entangled with hers. 

“you’re subbing for the anchor?” 

“yeah, but i’ve done it already before once so it happens.” sana replies as she lets go of your hands. 

“see you in the break room?” 

“save a cup of coffee for me.” 

—

you learn very quickly that the dream news job that sana always talked to you about when hanging out, it was a hidden world that you didn’t think that you’d get hooked into. 

every day in the studio had something new for you to get your hands messy with. one day you had to record behind the main camera for the news desk since the person that was supposed to be on it was out sick. you had no idea how to work the damn thing, but as long as you had the lens pointed at the anchors and there was a big red recording button for you to press, it would be an easy task to do. 

then there was the whole editing room incident, that bumped up your area of expertise that you didn’t even mention when you first applied for the camerawoman job.

“this damn panel is bugging out on me again!” sana hears in the room behind as she walks past it, with a cup of warm coffee in her hand after shooting today’s report for the afternoon. she pops her head in to see a set of legs on the floor, knees pointing upward as she was now curious to see what was the problem. 

“something wrong chan?” sana asks the person laying on the floor, half of their body under the desk as he pops back up to see their well acquainted coworker for roughly about two months. 

“the secondary main computer and this panel here have been tripping out all morning.” bangchan answers, slapping the computer flatly with his hand as he fiddles with the knobs on the mixer set next to the malfunctioning computer. “we’re very lucky that this didn’t trip out during recording just now.” 

“are you sure that it’s the computer and not the main mixer panel?” sana asks bangchan, leaning back on the desk behind her as bangchan goes under again with a flashlight to see if anything was out of place in terms of wires beneath.

“i don’t know, but i called a couple people over already to come look at this so they’ll be here in a bit to see if they’ll fix it.” bangchan answers as sana blows a stream of air through her lips as she was worried that bangchan himself couldn’t fix it. 

you got called to come to the studio on your day off, but given what your friend mark said on the phone with the whole rundown of the situation, you weren’t sure how good of a help you might be. 

walking into the main recording control room, you’re met with a small group of people surrounding the computer as the people make a path for you to walk through. bangchan was sitting with legs crossed like a kindergartener as you look up to see the anchors in the desk behind overseeing the situation, nodding at jihyo and eunbi as they flashed a small wave at you. 

“what’s the situation here?” you ask out loud as you look over to sana, who greeted you with an eye smile before you turned your attention back to bangchan who sighed out in exhaustion.

“the secondary computer has been bugging all this morning.” bangchan answers, “we were able to get today’s afternoon recording in but it could’ve gone bad on the air.” 

“alright, let’s see what we’re working with here.” you say to yourself as you put your vintage dad hat on, cracking your fingers as you began to click and type away on the keyboard, opening up the main program of the computer and skimming through the lines of text before opening different applications to see if everything was working properly. 

sana leans in closely to see you work through the stubborn computer as you look over to the mixer panel, turing it on as the many dials and lights started calibrating and recalibrating, you fiddle with the knobs like bangchan did before you look in one of the other areas of the mixer before shifting over back to the computer and run a subroutine in the main settings window.

“shit y/n, when the hell were you so good with computers?” a worker standing behind you asks as you continue to scan the screen swiftly as you scratch your head for a quick second. 

“i dabbled a bit with some computer work back in high school.” you answer swiping the bottom of your lip with your finger before briskly typing away on the keyboard. “sana can actually vouch for me on that.” you add as all of the workers including the anchors and bangchan look at sana as she simply smiled and nodded. everyone was left in disbelief as the whole group looked back at you staring at the screen still as you did some last minute taps on the keyboard.

“i think i found the problem.” you say as you slide over to the neighboring computer on your left which was the primary computer, doing a few clicks as something popped up on the main screen—it was an editing software that had a previous recording of the news broadcast that was edited, but it appeared that someone was running the program while shooting today that was causing problems. 

“turns out you had the other recording in the backburner of the main recording from today.” you exclaim pointing to the screen, “whoever was on this computer must’ve forgot to close the program before leaving the other day.” 

everyone in the room exclaims in glee as small applauses are heard as you relish in the moment while sitting down. sana watches from a distance while her looks shift a little more differently at you. it didn’t feel weird at all and sana felt the warmth of your smile reach to her cheeks.

remember that unbridled admiration sana had for you? well all of that went out the window and was replaced with a change for something more. and this would kill sana if you found out the realization about this moment from her.

even in the dimly lit room, your smile under the cap had become even more beautiful for sana to stare at as you spin around the group of people in your chair like a kid being surprised at their birthday party. the eyes through your glasses were wider than ufo saucers and even with the hat on it made you infinitely cuter. sana has been friends with you for years but this was the first real instance of her noticing your attractive appearance. 

the way you humbled yourself with the subtle recognition really reflected how you were as a person who didn’t want all of the attention, but when you did, you took that opportunity to really enjoy the moment as you stood up with some of the newsroom workers patting you on the back. jihyo and eunbi tap sana’s shoulder, perking their head as they were going back to the breakroom for more coffee as they started to walk out. sana stands by the door as the blue big screen in the editing room that captured your silhouette, her heart skipping a beat as she looks over at your figure that captured your side profile nicely even with the hat on still. 

—

sana is a really touchy person. you easily say that she can be touch deprived at times if someone doesn’t reciprocate the same actions that she’s doing. 

you didn’t mind however, since you and sana would walk together when it came to classes, bumping shoulder to shoulder, tapping on your arm if something funny happens, and even just giving or receiving hugs with each other showed the immense closeness you two shared together. 

there’s that one person that you spend a significant amount of time with to know everything about them. from the way that they talk to the way that they act about certain things. maybe you and her meeting that day in english class was a gateway to a deeper connection—more than friends maybe.

maybe. 

you lean back in your ergonomic chair as you stare at the editing software that was on your desktop computer, when you hear the door to your workspace open behind you as you see sana walk in with the oversized comfy hoodie that you bought at costco to use around the house. you wanted to say something about sana stealing it, but in the shared apartment with her, whatever was yours was also hers (to an extent)

“can’t sleep?” you ask sana as she continues to trudge over to you.

sana murmurs as you face her still sitting down on the chair. “you have the ac too cold here y/n.” 

you scoff as you look up at sana who strips off the comfy blanket hoodie, seeing that she was wearing a simple white shirt with pink shorts that were a little too short, but this wasn’t the time to ogle at her figure as press the glasses back up to the top of your nose bridge again. 

“you should go back to bed sana, i have to finish this recording edit for dino’s wife that he asked me to do.” you say raising your hand up to motion sana away from you as she completely ignores your request.

it was so sudden, but it was so normal of her to do.

she parts your arm aside as she straddles you on the chair, her legs going to the other side as she nestles her head onto your shoulder. naturally without a second thought, you rub sana’s back as she quietly whines at you before sighing out in full sleepiness. 

“let me stay with you, you’re warm.” 

you look at the side of her head peripherally, but you kept your mouth shut as you pat the small of her back again, your hand sliding down her waist as she didn’t want to be moved at all as you roll the chair back up with the desk before typing away on the keyboard for the next couple of minutes. 

exhaling out a tired groan, you close the editing program as you wrap your arms around sana’s waist again, letting the warmth embrace settle as you shake her to wake up slightly.

“sana, i finished. you can get off me now.” 

“sana?” 

no answer as you feel her breath on your shoulder sound asleep.

“you were always the light sleeper.” you say as you hold sana from her butt, carrying her in the same position sitting down as you walked to the bedroom next door. 

laying her down gently as she adjusted herself in the mattress and you covered her with the comforter, turning on the lamp to get a good look of her sleeping state. you stare for what seemed like forever as you see her chest rise and fall in calming breaths as you let out a quiet yawn. you stand up before you turn off the lamp on the nightstand, thinking about how sana clinged onto you back on the office chair earlier as you softly smiled at her face.

“cute.” 

you then turn off the lamp and head out to knock out on the couch after.

—

“do you like y/n?” 

the question left sana completely off guard as she swung her head around to jihyo who gave a subtle smirk at her before sana tsked at her before laughing.

“jihyo, it’s not like that i swear.” 

“oh really? i’ve seen you stare at her multiple times in the last couple weeks. don’t think that i didn’t notice too.” 

“we’re just friends, nothing more.” 

nothing more she says, but both jihyo and sana knew that was the white lie in all of this. 

jihyo leans back on the counter in the break room as she was still not convinced about sana’s answer. 

“are you sure? i’m not saying anything bad but you two look good together.” jihyo says as she reaches over for a cup of water as sana pats her thighs with her hands, letting the wave of nervousness consume her for a quick second. 

“i’m sure ji. besides, i don’t even know what i would do if what you’re saying is true.” 

“it’s something to think about, that's for sure.” jihyo replies as sana definitely feels the flush on her face more, “you never know sana, it’s always the ones you least expe-”

“sana!” your voice breaks the conversation as she turns around to see you at the doorway, thumb pointing to the right side of you as she parts her lips, tongue tangled in her mouth as you were simply smiling. 

“we have all the stuff ready in the van, we’re just waiting on you.” you say quickly before darting away from the door and down the hallway. 

sana raises her hand out to you but lowers it in a small loss as she sighs out, head looking down as she punches her forehead lightly, letting the thought get away from her as jihyo notices this letting an ‘ooh’ come out as sana looks back in annoyance.

“we’re not done with this by the way.” jihyo says with a mischievous grin on her face, “we’ll be talking more about this at dinner later.” 

sana sticks her tongue out at jihyo as she walks out of the breakroom as you and her were assigned to cover a simple story before packing it up for the team dinner just after shooting for dino’s small birthday celebration.

—

the small shoot went swiftly as expected. sana only had to do the cover story in one take outside city hall and in a quick flash with a change of cars, you two were going to be a little late to the korean bbq dinner that was at dino’s favorite restaurant.

sana is no stranger to your sleek, sporty accord as you zoomed down the highway at a speed that made it seemed you were just gliding on the road. it was really a simple task you were doing, nothing different than the other things you do back home and at work. but this is you that sana was looking at, and you were hitting differently with your one hand on the wheel and the other on the gear shift. 

a song was softly blasting through the speakers as sana hears the snare of the simple lofi beat, but it was the lyrics that made the ambience in the car a lot more intimate as she hears the lyrics of a woman singing, 

i get a feelin sometimes

that i can’t get close enough to you

i feel most in the nighttime 

even though that’s when i’m closest to you 

if could be under your skin 

closer than we’ve ever been 

we’d be closer than we’ve ever been, oh~

sana reads this in a little too closely as her mind begins to wander at the possibility of how you might really feel about her, but she diminishes that thought away as she looks back at you slightly bopping your head to the song under the passing street lights. 

the car ride went quickly knowing the great driver that you were (sana considers a career in racing for you as a joke) as you parked perfectly at the parking lot of the restaurant and entering inside to see two round tables of grills being occupied by the newsroom workers, dino waving his hand to get you and sana’s attention as you walk towards the lively group. 

the night inside the restaurant was anything short of happy vibes and unrestrained laughs. jihyo and eunbi being the mama birds they were despite being intoxicated as well, keeping a close eye on the heavyweight drinkers as you switched back and forth between conversations. sana was sitting right next to you sharing a laugh with bangchan and another fellow camera crew person with yuki. 

everyone was again left in shock with the amount of shots of soju you had in your system and you were completely fine. you assured everyone that you had a pretty strong alcohol tolerance as you grabbed another bite of the pork belly that was sizzling on the grill. 

sana however, was a lightweight. and it showed.

she looked completely out of it as she was uncontrollably laughing at the stupidest things, grabbing you by the shoulders as she pointed at the tv that was showing a football game that showed a player getting tackled. it didn’t make sense but as long as you were watching sana enjoy herself and being super happy, that was all that mattered. 

you helped sana take off her tailored grey blazer that left her in that nicely fitted light blue dress shirt, rolling up her sleeves as she hummed giddily at the touch of your fingers on her arm. you look at her again as she had her eyes closed, rosy cheeks piercing through her fair skin as helped her drink a cup of cold water to calm her down. 

the what that was emulating on sana’s face was now spreading to yours as you place a hand on your cheek, confused at this funny feeling that you were having. 

sana’s mind was fuzzy at this point, but she was still conscious of the actions she still had little control over as she taps your shoulders twice to get your attention.

“yes sana?” you ask your longtime friend as you fix her hair that was in front of her face. 

“you know that you’re cute y/n.” sana says to you, her speech clearly slurred from the two bottles of soju she downed. 

“of course i know if it’s coming from you.” 

jihyo sits at the other side of the table as she notices that you were taking care of sana, taking advantage of her state as she remembers the conversation she had with sana earlier. 

“hey sana, isn’t there something that you want to tell y/n?” jihyo asks her as she looks at her with squinted eyes, darting your eyes at jihyo as you try to grasp what was going on between those two. 

“oh yeah that i like her?” sana says sloppily as her head dips down. you acting fast as she almost fell over in front of you. the words didn’t register in your head as you pat sana on the thigh to wake her up again. 

“sana, can you tell me that again?” you ask the tired brunette sitting across from you, “what did you talk to jihyo about?” 

sana then grabs your head with both of her hands, molding your face into a duck as she hums cutely again, moving your head left and right as you just let it happen. it wouldn’t be everyday for sana to get drunk with you but it’s what happens next that sends all of the alarms in your body haywire. 

she plants her lips with yours out of completely nowhere, eyes left open as sana pecks your lips for a few seconds, tasting the peach flavored alcohol on her taste buds, scooting her chair closer to you before giving another kiss to your jaw before pulling away. 

“i like you y/n, i’ve been crushing on you for a while now.”

sana says cherrily as you were left in complete shock. you just stared at sana as she just sat there happily, eyes closed as she hummed to the song that was playing above in the restaurant. 

—

it was already past midnight as you carried sana on your back exiting the restaurant as you still were conversing with dino and jihyo as sana is drowsy on top of you, buzzing her lips and humming as you stand in front of your car facing jihyo and dino. 

“happy birthday again boss, hopefully your wife likes the final video i edited.” you say, lifting sana up to rest her on your back more comfortably.

“thank you y/n and i appreciate the favor with the whole video situation.” dino replies as he puts on his coat and jangles with his car keys. you eye jihyo as she looks at you and sana, nodding her head at you to reconfirm with the supposed confession sana let out to you by surprise. 

“i’ll see you guys at work tomorrow?” 

“you bet, drive safe y/n.” dino says as sana taps your shoulder to get off, straightening herself up as you hold her arm just so that she doesn’t fall. 

“sucks that you gotta play mom mode y/n.” jihyo says to you, giving a light smirk as you roll your eyes at sana’s sleepy state again, brushing a strand of hair away from her face and behind her ear as she still had her eyes closed but still conscious as some of the alcohol she drank started to wear off. 

you help sana into the car, opening the door for her and putting your hand at the roof so that she doesn’t hit her head, sitting down promptly and leaning the seat back as she takes off her shoes to get more comfortable. you then put your blazer and her’s over her as a makeshift blanket as you close the door for a few more moments. 

“jihyo, was what she said back inside true?” you ask her, heart thumping at the thought as it finally settled in your mind—your best friend had a crush on you, but you were finding out about this now but maybe you also had something in regards to her and you just didn’t realize it. 

“yeah.” jihyo replies, “she’ll probably freak out about this tomorrow morning when she’s hungover, but i think you know what to expect y/n.” 

you parted your lips as you softly exhaled, almost relieved because you took sana’s love with so much care as a friend, you didn’t want to worry what comes next because of the notion that your heart was already hers in the first place. 

—

sana shifts in the passenger seat as you drive on the highway, the car humming lowly on the road. sana then opens her eyes slowly at the image of you driving as you smoothly make turns heading back to your apartment. the speakers were playing the same song you had earlier but sana didn’t realize that the lyrics she heard was just the intro to the song as she hears you faintly sing along with the lofi beat. 

mm, i feel most in the nighttime, yeah 

me never on your timeline, yeah 

see you always in the limelight 

keep me rollin’ in the deep, yeah 

not a tease, no joke, i do mean it 

don’t cease, baby don’t, why you floatin’?

wanna lock you up my sight 

but you run away like fish, yeah~

sana was fond of your nice voice when it came to singing whenever you guys hung out together doing homework or chilling out, but she was surprised that you could rap out the lyrics so seamlessly as she kept her eyes on you in the dark covered by the blazers as you continued to sing. 

the next part of the song was something that you could relate to—as it was the growing crush of your best friend that you were working at the same job at with the same profession. 

you look at sana and not at the road (dangerously) as she meets yours under the blazers, 

i keep you right next to me 

only just in my dream 

i see you in red, blue, green 

don’t wake me up from sleep 

i think i’m losin’ my grip 

everything off the beam 

why you showed up in my life 

like this so sudden, oh god, no~

this rap was more than a message to sana, it was a confession of the years with built up feelings to sana as she smiled under the jackets, trying to contain herself as you serenaded her swoonly. 

sure you were singing at her sleeping body, kinda stupid but it was all so cute and adorable as sana’s eyes fluttered closed off to sleep again. knowing that from this point on you would be the one to carry her to bed after nights like these.

#saiiidahyunee #twice x reader #kpop x reader #sana x reader #twice sana #sana fluff #minatozaki sana #twice fluff #sana imagines #minatozaki sana x reader #kpop fluff #fluff

[strangersmunsons]

bark at the moon

there's something suuuuper weird in your garage. your best friend Robin calls up her old pals, Steve and Eddie, to come and take a look.

Contains: Eddie x Fem!Reader. Mix of canon & Modern AU, w/ tweaks to established lore (faithfulness to the source material? I don’t know her). Plot of the show is more or less the same, but focus will be on minor threats escaping from the Upside Down, and no more. Everyone is aged up a bit, timeline of events is kept vague. Reader learns some secrets that are tough to wrap her head around, Eddie is an awkward sweetheart, and platonic!Stobin reigns supreme. Word Count: ~8.1k Warnings: Some brief descriptions of gore. Reader has a mild panic attack. Mentions of food & eating. Strong language. I've been tinkering away at this fic since the summer; it's a little different than the sweet & fluffy stuff I normally post, but I had a blast writing it! So I hope you guys enjoy! 🩷

“Call me when you get home, okay?”

“I will.” You smack a kiss to Robin’s cheek and push your stool back against the bar. “Try not to get into too much trouble tonight. It’s only Thursday.”

“No promises,” Vickie chimes in, grinning toothily at you, cheeks flushed from a mix of joy and booze. 

“I mean it.” You jab a finger in her direction, only half-jokingly. “If you FaceTime me again at 3 AM so I can provide ‘emotional support’ while you’re puking your guts out in the bathroom, I’m hanging up.”

Vickie doesn’t even blink. “You won’t hang up,” she replies dismissively.

She’s totally right, but you don’t say so.

“Just try and keep your insides where they belong, please. They should be, y’know — on the inside. Alright? I love you both. Goodnight!” You blow another dramatic kiss in their direction as you saunter out of the bar, weaving between sticky tables over the even-stickier floor to the exit. 

Lizzy’s is you, Robin, and Vickie’s favorite haunt, a nondescript dive bar located on the outskirts of town. It’s a squat, dingy little building tucked neatly away into a thicket of trees at the deadend of a backroad. There’s no neighbors or rival businesses in sight, just a small parking lot with a defunct telephone booth that probably hasn’t worked in several decades. The bar is usually only frequented by patrons belonging to one of two exclusive sects: members of the local biker gang, and this random lesbian couple and their one friend. 

Truly a hidden gem.

Happy Hour at Lizzy’s has been a tradition for you and Robin (and Vickie, when she chooses to tag along) since you met at work retreat a year ago. When you caught sight of her funky patched-up blazer and choppy hairstyle, you immediately clocked her as the other youngest, coolest person in the room and forced your friendship upon her in the name of survival. Who else were you gonna hang out with for an entire weekend — Matt from HR who, ironically, was on probation for sending a coworker unsolicited dick pics? No way.

“Hey, can you hold the other side of my bag open for me? I’m gonna jam these cookies in there — quickly, while no one’s looking.”

Two peas in a pod, stealing extra goodies from the complimentary snack table and gossiping in the back row during presentations when you should’ve been listening. You’ve been attached at the hip ever since.

Full of mirth from the quality time spent with your best friend, you hum cheerfully to yourself as you push through the exit and step outside. The door whacks shut behind you, closing you off from the bar’s warm interior, and immediately, you take notice of two things.

First, you’re met with a surprising chill in the air. It’s been pretty temperate so far this week, and  pleasantly warm earlier in the day, but it’s become startlingly cold in the mere hours you were inside the bar. You swear you can see a frozen puff of breath each time you exhale. You hug your arms around yourself, frowning slightly. Gravel crunches under your feet as you walk to your car.

The second thing you notice is that it’s obscenely dark out. A single orange streetlamp flickers in the parking lot, illuminating little more than the fluttering moths bashing themselves stupidly into the bulb. There’s no moon in the black-velvet sky; it’s just a blanket of darkness above. You glance at the watch on your wrist, but the time is indiscernible without proper lighting. I guess it’s later than I thought?

The hairs stand up on the back of your neck. There’s a gross, inexplicable feeling of nakedness as you cross the lot; the cold, unexpected dark and loss of time has you feeling disoriented and exposed. Naturally, your mind begins dredging up scenes from every horror movie you’ve ever watched, and you pick up the pace. Reaching the car, you wrench open the driver-side door, eager to be within the safe confines of the vehicle.

You slide in, and release a relieved breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. Slumping back against the seat, you think, Man, I gotta lay off the slasher flicks.

The moment doesn’t last long. Another bolt of paranoia suddenly shoots through you — you whip your head around, searching the backseat for a killer lurking in the shadows, waiting to slice your throat open, possibly with a machete, or maybe even a hook attached to a stumpy wrist.

Nothing there. Totally empty. Not even an extremely trim, flexible murderer contorting themselves out of view down on the cramped floor space.

“It’s fine,” you say aloud to no one in particular, turning forward again. You start the car and ease out of the lot, switching the radio to a pop station — your last line of defense. No one ever got brutally murdered while listening to Britney. 

Thankfully, the ride is uneventful, and nobody pops up behind you with any instruments of violence. The further you get into town, with its familiar lights and gentle hum of nighttime traffic, the more at ease you feel. Your mind drifts, thinking of work, what you’ll make for dinner tomorrow, whether or not Vickie will be throwing up within the next hour. Any mundane topic that’ll help calm your nerves.

Eventually you reach home and pull into the garage. It’s a miracle you can even still park in there, it’s so full of junk — old furniture and hardware tools and odds and ends you haven’t had the energy to try and sort through.

A sigh escapes as you cross the threshold that separates the garage from the house. The sweet, homey kitchen is a welcome sight to enter. You put a kettle on for a cup of tea before bed, and decide to dial Robin while you wait for the water to boil.

She picks up after several rings.

“Hello my love.”

“Hi Rob. I’m alive.”

“Oh, good. That would’ve been awkward if it was someone else calling me.”

“Are you still at the bar?” 

“Yeah, we’re leaving in a few. Vickie says she’s fine, but she’s got that look in her eye, so…”

There’s a faint “I am fine!” in the background and you snicker. “Good luck with that.”

Robin snorts. “Thanks. Talk to you tomorrow?”

“Of course.”

Robin bids you goodnight, and you feel a rush of affection for her. Your roommate recently moved out to go live with her boyfriend, leaving you as the sole tenant of the house. Although you reassured her endlessly that you had no issues living alone, Robin was insistent on constantly checking up on you lest you ‘get SVUed’ — her phrasing, not yours.

The kettle starts whistling, and you pour the steaming water into a mug with a bag of chamomile. You plop down on the soft cushion tied to the kitchen chair, letting the weariness of the day settle in your bones. 

You scroll idly through your phone while sipping your tea, ignoring the slight burn it leaves on your lips and tongue. The old house settles and creaks while you relax, making those soft noises that you’ve become accustomed to over time. In fact, you’re so used to it by now that in your sleepy state, you don’t even register the odd sound in the garage, a sort of thunk, not unlike that of a confused bird flying into a picture window. 

When the last drop of tea is gone, you place the mug in the dishwasher and head for your bedroom. You go through the steps of your night routine as though on autopilot before finally crashing into the plush bed. Within minutes, sleep takes you.

The sound of your alarm is innocuous enough — a small tinkle of bells or chimes or whatever cheerful twee instrument it is that Apple is using. 

It’s incredible how something so innocent can sound so ungodly. Ugh.

Barely lifting your head up off the pillow, you drag the trilling device towards you with snatching fingers and turn it off. Maybe you’ll get up when the second alarm goes off, but let’s be honest — it probably won’t be until the third, and even then you might steal a few extra minutes under the covers. 

Eventually you manage to pull yourself upright and, with a huge yawn, lurch out of bed. You shuffle down the hall, thinking of little more than the bagel you’re gonna demolish before jumping in the shower, and make your way back into the kitchen. Your bare feet pad softly across the linoleum floor, cold and sticking slightly to your heels. The sky outside the window is a dark, deep blue. 

Then finally, in the stillness of the early morning, you hear a dull thud.

You pause halfway to the toaster. 

Ten seconds go by. Silence.

Okay, that’s fine, it’s probably noth–

Thud. 

Goddamn it.

There’s a stab of alarm as the sound repeats again, then twice more in rapid succession. You take a deep breath, willing yourself to remain calm, and grab the softball bat you keep propped up by the door. Safety first.

You tiptoe cautiously to the door separating the kitchen and the garage, thinking it’s probably a raccoon or something, he slipped inside when I drove in last night. Actually, there’s so much shit in there, he’s probably been living there for weeks. I really should call a Junk King – 

You push the door open slowly, peering around the edge, prepared to fight. Your self-defense weapon is made of bright pink aluminum that catches the dim kitchen light emanating from behind you, glinting in your hands. You’re pretty sure it’s a little-league number so, clearly, it’ll be an even match for whatever it is that awaits you.

At first, nothing appears out of the ordinary. There’s no human silhouettes lurking in the dark. Everything is more or less the same as it was last night. The car is right where you left it, and the windows are intact. The spare furniture crammed against the perimeter is still there – nothing is missing or vandalized. But the room is still too dark for you to make out any less obvious differences, so you reach for the lightswitch on the left side of the doorframe.

And then, from the far corner of the room, up towards the ceiling, there’s an ear-splitting screech that nearly stops your heart. 

Before you even have time to blink, a shadowy mass is suddenly flying straight at you. It’s still mostly obscured in the dark — whatever it is — a nebulous blur that swings in a low arc across the room. It’s moving so quickly that the air whistles as the creature cuts a path through it.

You let out a shriek of your own and spring backwards, slamming the door shut. It’s just barely closed when it collides into the wood with a frightening crash. You lock the door with numb fingers and slump back against it with your heart in your throat, and a hot, loose feeling in your lower stomach that, in the midst of your hysteria, you manage to acknowledge as a warning that you might shit your pants.

You lurch forward and spin around, now watching the door with wide eyes. The noise from before, which you now understand must have been that thing flinging itself against the walls, resumes with a fervor that makes you sick with fright. It slams into the door relentlessly, and you physically cringe with each hit.

With shaking hands, you pull one of the kitchen chairs out and prop it underneath the door handle. You really don’t think it could be strong enough to break through, but…

At least you don’t think —

“Robin, I’m about to die.”

“...at six-thirty in the morning? Can you put it off until this afternoon, at least?” 

Robin’s voice is still thick with sleep and there’s no doubt that she’s irritated by your early phone call, but right now, you could care less.

“I think there’s some kind of cryptid in my garage.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the phone.

“Come again?”

“Like, I think the fucking Jersey Devil is in there, or something. When I got up this morning I kept hearing this weird noise, so I put my big girl panties on and went to investigate –”

“By yourself? Are you dumb? What if someone was in there?”

“Hey, I had protection, okay? Besides, I figured it was probably a racoon. If it had been a person planning on hurting me, they weren’t being very discreet about it –”

“Alright, alright. Continue.”

“So I open the door, and next thing I know, this thing screams and starts fucking flying directly at my head. I didn’t get a good look at it, Rob, it was too dark, but that thing is out for blood. It keeps flying into the door. Listen to this shit.”

You put your phone on speaker and hold it out, standing as close to the door as you’re willing to get.

“Um, I can’t hear anything.”

“...well…it was doing it earlier...”

“...right. So, what, a bird flew into your garage?”

“A bird? Maybe.” That sort of fit, right? Whatever it was, it had wings. It was kind of big. It made noise. You consider. “Could be a bat, I suppose.”

Across town, Robin suddenly sits bolt upright in bed. Vickie mumbles incoherently next to her, half-awake from hearing your too-early conversation. 

“I’m coming over,” Robin says abruptly, and hangs up.

Flinging herself out of bed, Robin begins dressing frantically, scrambling to pull a pair of jeans up over her bare legs. Drawers and closet doors bang open and slam shut again. Vickie groans from beneath her pillow. “Could you keep it down, please?”

“No, sorry babe. Gotta go. I’ll explain later.”

“Are you kidding me?”

You rub your temples in irritation and throw yourself back down on the couch. You’ve taken refuge in the living room while you wait for Robin, and have spent the past fifteen minutes going back and forth with animal control. Trying to convince them to come get this thing out of your house? An exercise in futility.

A frantic knocking makes you jump, before you realize it’s coming from outside the house. You cautiously enter the kitchen again and when you see Robin’s face through the small pane of glass in the front door, your whole body sags with relief. You fling it open breathlessly and throw yourself at her. “Thank God!” The words are muffled, as your face is pressed into her shoulder.

“Hey, it’s okay!” She slings her arm around you in a hug and pats your back. “We’re gonna take care of this.”

You release her and start venting your frustration. “Yeah, we’ll have to. I tried calling animal control and apparently they can’t do anything since it’s not a dog or a cat, and they kept telling me I had to call a wildlife removal agency instead, and they just kept going on about how they have to send a professional who specializes in birds or bats or whatever the hell it is, and that it’s gonna cost me like at least two hundred bucks –”

Robin cuts off your rambling. “I don’t think you should call anyone.”

You huff. “I certainly don’t want to, if it’s gonna cost me that much. I thought this was what animal control did. What am I paying taxes for?”

Robin’s been here all of two minutes and you already feela little better. The run-in earlier had frightened you, certainly, but you’re no longer alone in the house with an eldritch horror.

Robin shakes her head. “No, I mean I already called someone.”

That stops you, and you squint at her in confusion. “Who? You know a guy who handles this kinda thing?”

“...actually, I know two.”

Eddie’s green-and-white van screams around the corner, practically making the turn on two wheels.

“Jesus, Munson, slow down!”

“Relax, Harrington. I’m a certified expert driver. My insurance company said so.”

A Megadeth song that Steve doesn’t know thumps out of the speakers at a deafening volume. Eddie drums his hands on the steering wheel in time with the music, headbanging as vigorously as he can manage without taking his eyes completely off the road.

Steve reaches for the stereo knob and turns it down. Eddie shoots him a disgruntled look from the driver’s seat. “Hey, man —”

“We got somewhere to be, alright? I told Robin we’d get there ASAP. The last thing we need is for you to wrap this thing around a telephone pole.”

“If she didn’t move so far away, we would already be there,” Eddie complains.

“Dude, she lives like an hour away now. Hour and a half, tops.” 

“Well, that’s a long drive when it’s this early!”

Waiting for Robin’s reinforcements to arrive provides ample time for her to shatter your world. You sit together on opposite ends of the couch, staring at each other in intense silence. Your brow is deeply furrowed, eyes nearly shut from the force of the expression.

“Are you being for real, or is this an elaborate lie you’re making up that you’ll laugh at me for falling for later?”

Robin drags her finger across her chest, drawing an imaginary X. “Cross my heart and hope to die. Trust me, I know how crazy it sounds.”

You let out a high-pitched laugh that sounds more like a wheeze. “Yeah, it sounds fucking crazy!”

Robin’s expression turns resentful. “Hey, you’re the one who called me saying Mothman was in your garage this morning –”

“I said the Jersey Devil, actually, but c’mon! An interdimensional monster. Is that real? Can that really be real?”

“Listen, just think about what you saw. You were pretty freaked. Did it really seem like some rabied-up household pest?”

It didn’t. The odd, kite-like shape, the speed with which it flew, and the utter determination — there was no doubt in your mind that it had dived at you deliberately, with the malicious intent to bite and scratch and hurt. You remember the hot taste of fear in your mouth, like a bitter pill dissolved on the tongue.

“No, it didn’t,” you admit quietly. That thing, whatever it was, was weird. But that doesn’t make Robin’s story any easier to swallow.

When it came to the supernatural or…whatever this was considered, you were neither a believer nor a skeptic. You weren’t willing to fully corroborate the existence of such things until you had experienced something like it yourself, but you still took others’ reports in stride; if someone claimed that they felt cold spots in their grandmother’s bedroom after she died, or that their belongings often ended up in odd places despite no one moving them, then you rolled with it. Who were you to deny their experiences? You wouldn’t tell them they’re wrong. 

But Robin’s Upside Down, well…it’s giving less childhood ghost story and more Stephen King novel. One of the weirder ones too, that he wrote when he was still snorting a ton of cocaine. She’s on some Tommyknockers shit.

“You’ll see,” Robin promises. “When we kill it, you can get a good look at it.”

“Right, about that. Steve is your himbo friend from home, right?”

Robin smiles proudly. “The one and only.”

“But he’s good at this? Getting rid of these things?”

She nods eagerly. “Oh, very. I know I say he’s a himbo, but I’m selling him short, really, he’s the best. Best guy I know, in fact.”

You hear the pointed lilt in her voice, the one that’s always there when Robin mentions Steve to you. You roll your eyes. “There’s a monster in my garage, and you’re worried about getting me a date?”

Robin throws her hands up in defiance. “I’m just sayin’! He and his girlfriend Nancy broke up.” Her face suddenly lights up as she remembers a bit of gossip. “She’s bisexual now, by the way! Shame she didn’t realize it when we were in high school together, I had a huuuuge crush on her.”

“I thought you had a huge crush on Vickie in high school?”

“I did,” she says, as though there’s nothing contradictory about that fact. “Listen, I’m a complex, multifaceted lesbian, with a lot of —“

She’s interrupted by the knocking at the front door, and both of your heads turn automatically towards the sound. 

It’s your second house-call of the day. Robin jumps up, winking at you. “It’s gonna be fine,” she whispers, and takes your hand, giving it a squeeze.

You follow her back into the kitchen, where you’re promptly welcomed by the sight of two boy-faces smushed shamelessly against the glazing in the door. 

Robin rolls her eyes and yanks it open.

Without the door in place to support him, one boy loses his balance and topples forward, crashing into the kitchen. The other boy, who pulled back in time, laughs openly at him. 

“Hey, dinguses, this isn’t my house, remember? Don’t be weird.”

“There’s not a day in Munson’s life that he hasn’t been weird.”

The one pulling himself up off the floor grunts out, “I resent that.” When he’s fully upright, he gazes at you with wide eyes and a slight frown, not saying anything.

Robin steps in and they each take turns embracing her in greeting. One of them even ruffles her hair affectionately, and you watch the three of them with interest.

You’ve seen enough pictures of Steve Harrington by now that you could pick him out from a mile away. Of the two boys he’s taller, and more classically handsome, with his pretty features and artfully-sculpted hair. In his neat green pullover and pressed jeans, you can totally picture King Steve as he was in high school — athletic and rich and preppy, with his equally rich and preppy girlfriend.

While you recognize Steve immediately, this other boy you know less. He looks only vaguely familiar, perhaps a background figure in Robin’s photos. His dark hair is long, curly and disheveled, and his eyes are huge and starkly brown against his pale skin. Despite the early hour they must’ve left at, he's taken the time to deck himself out in black leather and loads of silver jewelry.

After he releases Robin, Steve introduces himself. He saunters forward confidently, one hand extended out towards you. “I’m Steve,” he says with a charming smile. He cocks his head slightly to the side, and there’s a brief pause for dramatic effect. “Steve Harrington.” 

In your peripheral vision, you can see Robin holding a hand over her eyes in embarrassment. The other boy shoots him a dirty look.

You shake his hand politely, mildly amused. “Nice to meet you, Steve.”

When Steve releases your hand, the dark-haired one gives you an awkward wave. “I’m Eddie.” 

The name rings a bell. You wave back and smile at him kindly. “Hi, Eddie.”

He shuffles his feet, Reeboks squeaking against the linoleum, not quite meeting your eyes. 

“I’m really glad you both are here,” you add, glancing between the two boys. “Thank you so much for coming.”

“Our pleasure,” Steve replies. “Always happy to be of service —”

“So,” Eddie cuts in, “where did you find this little fucker, anyway?”

“The garage.” Your voice is soft with trepidation. “The door’s right there.”

Three sets of eyes, blue and hazel and brown, follow the line of your pointed index finger. The chair is still jammed underneath the knob in a feeble attempt to barricade the door.

“Alright, we just need to grab our stuff from the van,” Eddie tells you. “And we’ll take care of it. If there’s only one, it shouldn’t take us long at all.”

You nod, like this is all good and normal and not the weirdest morning of your life. “Okay.”

When they move to head outside again, Steve eyes your little pink aluminum softball bat, back in its place in the corner. He smiles. “Hey, I got one of those!“

Eddie jogs lightly to catch up with Steve as he strides to where the van is parked outside.

“Hey,” he hisses, reaching out and grabbing his shoulder to get his attention. “You didn’t tell me this was Robin’s hot friend.”

“Huh?” Steve squints at him, disgruntled. “Who else would it have been?”

“I don’t know, literally anyone?”

“If I’m talking about Robin’s friend, then I’m talking about her. I didn’t realize I had to clarify.” He yanks the trunk open, and his voice takes on a more taunting tone. “Why? You nervous that a girl is actually speaking to you for once?”

Eddie steps back, visibly stung. “Hey, fuck you, man.”

Steve and Eddie’s friendship is not as tenuous as it once was, but sometimes old habits die hard.

Steve softens immediately, face painted with regret. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that,” he mutters, swiping a hand through his hair. He sighs. “I bumped into Nancy at the store yesterday, I’m not in a good mood.”

Eddie nods awkwardly, not really sure how to answer. “I’m sorry that it didn’t work out, um…again.”

“Thank you…for that reminder,” Steve replies, voice dripping with sarcasm. He turns to Eddie with narrowed eyes. “That we dated twice, and then also broke up twice.”

Eddie just smiles and claps him on the back. “I’m here for you, brother.”

From the kitchen window, you can see Steve and Eddie trudging back towards the house fully armed. Steve is holding a wooden baseball bat hammered-through with nails, and Eddie has what appears to be a makeshift spear — really, it’s just a big stick with a knife jerry-rigged on the end.

Robin takes in your open-mouthed shock. “You good?”

“Yeah,” you reply, dumbfounded, staring. “This is fine.”

The boys reenter. Steve smiles brilliantly at you, face clearing of some previous sourness you don’t know the cause of, and gestures with his bat to yours. “We can upgrade that for you, if you want,” he jokes.

You chuckle uneasily, panic setting in as you stare at the lethal-looking spikes of the nails. “Heh…maybe later.”

Eddie watches you carefully, the way your fingers scrunch nervously into the fabric of your sleep shirt, and the occasional, rapid twist of your head that you can’t seem to control, like you’re desperately trying to clear your mind of something awful. 

Robin glances down at her buzzing phone, Vickie’s name and face popping up on the homescreen for the hundredth time this morning — apparently, she’s now awake and frantic that her clumsy girlfriend may have yet again gotten herself involved in some wild, life-threatening shenanigan.

“Just give me a minute, she’s freaking out,” Robin mumbles, pushing past you and into the living room for privacy.

Steve turns his back to you as he goes to remove the chair from under the knob, and Eddie takes this small opportunity to move closer to you. He wonders if he’d be going too far if he took your trembling hand in his.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he murmurs. “We’re not gonna let that thing get at you.”

You manage a nod, overwhelmed. Eddie reaches out and pats your arm but pulls back quickly, like he’s afraid to touch you for too long.  

Steve calls your name, and you turn to him, distracted.

The chair is back in its place at the table, and he gestures to the now-unprotected door. “Is it crowded in there?”

“Very,” you confirm. The untidy chaos in the garage would normally embarrass you, but given the circumstances, you’re a little beyond caring. “Sorry.”

“That’s fine,” he reassures you. “We’ll try and be really careful about your stuff.”

“But no promises,” Eddie adds, a smile touching his lips for the first time.

You try to smile back, still feeling bizarrely distraught. “Just try not to break my windshield, please.”

He laughs softly. “Sounds like a reasonable enough request.”

“Okay, Munson, you ready?”

“Yeah.” Eddie joins him by the door. There hasn’t been any more noise from the garage since you heard it this morning — you don’t know what that bodes for them.

They brace themselves, weapons raised and at the ready. With a flick of his wrist Steve opens the door, which slowly creaks open. Shoulders hunched, he crosses the threshold, and switches the light on. You watch with bated breath, anticipating the sharp cry to be uttered at any moment.

Nothing happens.

Both Steve and Eddie cautiously enter the garage, watching for any signs of life. Steve starts jabbing at the little nooks and crannies amongst your things, trying to poke it out of hiding.

Eddie crouches down on the ground and peers underneath your car. 

“See anything?” you ask hesitantly.

“Not yet,” answers Eddie in a low voice.

Steve peels a dusty tarp off of an old end table, opens up a discarded cabinet. “Come on,” he mutters.

Three agonizing minutes go by as they pick their way through the room, searching under and over and behind every bit of junk, neither boy finding what they’re looking for.

“Maybe it got out,” Steve muses, standing upright, relaxing his grip on the bat, letting it rest casually against his shoulder.

You shift uncertainly, still hovering from your post at the half-open door. “Would that be good or bad?”

“Good for us. Bad for the neighbors,” says Eddie.

Suddenly a streak of dark gray erupts from behind Steve.

You barely have time to yell; Steve, feeling the ripple of wind on the back of his neck, whirls around.

The creature beats its leathery wings and it’s moving up and up until it reaches the ceiling, circling the room, no doubt gauging which angle it should dive at and towards who. 

Instinct tells you to slam the door shut, like you did earlier, but then Eddie and Steve will be trapped. Instead you leave the door ajar, crouched in pathetic terror. The boys recover their stances quickly, muscles tensed, ready to swing and jab their respective weapons the moment it comes within in striking distance. Their faces are twin mirrors of fierce determination.

The creature goes for Steve first, swooping down on him; you’re horrified to see its open mouth is full of concentric rows of spiny teeth. You utter a sharp cry, almost unable to look, certain that he’s about to be mauled by this terrible thing.

And the creature is fast.

But Steve is faster.

There’s a horrible sound, a meaty thwack! as the baseball bat smashes into the monster, sending it careening over your parked car like a gnarly fastball. It hits the wall and slides to the floor.

Eddie wastes no time in slamming one heavy boot down on a tattered wing, pinning the dazed thing into place. With one sharp jab, the knife pierces deep into the creature’s belly. He gives the spear a swift jerk, dragging the knife down, and cleaves the body almost completely in two. Its oily flesh is taut, but fragile; the thin skin surrounding the wound peels back, and it splits open like an over-full garbage bag, glistening, red-black insides seeping out onto the hard concrete floor.

Eddie whistles. “Goodnight.”

Gobsmacked by what just unfolded, you tiptoe into the garage. “Is…is it dead?”

“Yup,” says Eddie, nudging the thing with his foot. “This is kind of a small one,” he calls over to Steve.

Steve’s puffing slightly, shoulders heaving with adrenaline. “I noticed that. Probably not doing too hot out here in the real world.”

You gape at them both, eyes flitting between the two boys. Small?

You creep closer to the pulpy mass, getting your first good look at your uninvited guest. If you were right about one thing earlier, it’s that this is certainly no common house bat; it’s gray and rubbery, made of slick naked flesh, with a long twisted tail like braided rope. Its wings are shot through with six spidery limbs, its small head little more than a gaping maw lined with razors. And despite Eddie and Steve’s comments, to you? This thing seems enormous.

Eddie smiles at you proudly. “And just think — we did it all without breaking your windshield.”

Steve grimaces. “Yeah, about that…”

There’s a dent in the passenger-side door of the car. You’re sure if you were to hold Steve’s bat at the right angle against the dinged metal, it would fit in the depression like a glove.

Robin appears seemingly out of nowhere, leaning casually against the doorframe, sliding her phone into the back pocket of her jeans. 

“Hey. What’d I miss?”

The cleanup process is quick but dirty. Eddie scrapes up everything he can with a snow shovel of all things, and dumps the carcass unceremoniously into a Hefty bag — the real heavy-duty kind, with the red strings — as it was politely held open by Steve. Meanwhile, you scrub at the blood left behind, but it doesn’t do much. The ominous stain is likely etched into the garage floor forever.

Maybe you can throw a rug over it or something.

Robin yawns as she watches you work. “Can we go get breakfast? I’m starving.”

“I’m down,” says Steve, motioning for you to hand him the scrubber clutched in your hand.

You hand it over, but warn him, “I don’t think this is coming out.” He starts scrubbing anyway.

Eddie pipes up. “Are there any good diners around here?”

You wince. “We just threw an eviscerated monster in the trash. Don’t you need, like, a refractory period to deal with that level of gross?”

He thinks it over for a moment, then smiles and shrugs. “No.”

Laughter bubbles up and spills over your lips uncontrollably. It starts out normal, but then you can’t stop, and then it sort of feels like maybe you’re hyperventilating.

Robin, your soulmate, bless her, is always in tune with your emotions. She reacts quickly, kneeling down beside you on the cold floor, and wraps an arm around you. “Hey,” she says gently. “Relax, just breathe. I know everything you heard and saw today is literally insane, but it’s all okay.”

Robin’s hick hometown. Parallel dimensions. Little girl with superpowers. Monsters. Something about a gate...Monsters. Monsters from said-parallel dimension. Monsters from said-parallel dimension finding their way inside your home. Monsters in your home.

“Jesus,” you gasp in frustration, knuckling stupid tears at the corners of your eyes. “What is this?” 

“It’s a lot to take in, is what it is,” says Steve sympathetically. “But that thing’s dead, and you’re safe now, and that’s what matters.”

“The big bad stuff is already finished,” Eddie adds. You didn’t notice, but he’s crouched down right next to you, mirroring Robin’s position on your other side. “Not to mention,” he nudges you playfully, “you’ve got two pretty damn good exterminators on speed dial now, huh?” He places a hand on your shoulder, and you can feel the warm metal of his rings through your shirt.

You manage a weak mile. “True. That was pretty impressive,” you sniffle. His fingers give a reassuring little squeeze, but — again — is quick to let go.

He glances at Robin and Steve. “You know,” he starts in an accusatory tone, “you guys were definitely not this nice to me when I had to find out about all this shit.”

“We were in a time crunch,” Robin says dismissively. “You had to get with the program.”

The hysteria starts to wane; your body slumps a little under the combined weight of Robin and Eddie’s arms. “I changed my mind.”

Robin’s brow furrows. “About what?”

“…I want breakfast now.”

The ride to the diner gives you a chance to mull over the bizarre nature of the morning’s events. You let your head fall back on the seat and close your eyes; a stranger thing has never happened to you. 

Part of you wonders why Robin never told you all this but you immediately dismiss the thought. Why would she, unless it was absolutely necessary, like today? In addition to being pretty far-fetched, the whole thing also sounds pretty fucking traumatic.

“What do you guys call those things again?” you mumble, turning to Eddie, who’s sitting next to you in the backseat of Robin’s car.

Eddie’s face turns pink when he hears you address him, though you can’t fathom why. “Uh, demobats.” 

“Demobats,” you repeat. “How’d you come up with that?”

Steve pipes up from the passenger seat. “The first monster we saw from the Upside-Down was called a demogorgon. Some nerds named it.”

“Oh,” you say faintly.

“We can talk about something else,” says Robin. She looks at you anxiously in the rearview mirror, suspicious that you’re going to fall apart again. 

“I’m fine, Rob. I’ve made my peace with it.” You pause, and amend. “I’m making my peace with it.”

“Oo-kay.” She drags out the first syllable, letting it be known that she doesn’t really believe you. 

“Are there very many of these things?”

Steve seems to hesitate before he answers. “We don’t think so. Only a dozen or so managed to slip through the gate before it shut, and we think we got most of ‘em when they were still flapping around Hawkins. We found one that nearly crossed over the border into Ohio — we were keeping an eye on the papers — but other than that, this is the furthest out of town we’ve heard of them going.”

You process this, not really sure what to say. There’s not really much you can say. Instead, you turn your head to the window and watch the world race by through the glass, letting it slide past your eyes in a blur of green and blue.

The diner’s parking lot is mostly empty. Work should have already started for most — only a handful of elderly patrons are inside, sipping coffee at the bar and reading the paper. 

The matronly waitress wiping down a table lets you know that the four of you can sit anywhere you like. Robin immediately slides into a booth by the window, well away from the other customers. 

Steve takes the seat across from her, hoping you’ll sit on the bench next to him, but you plop down tiredly next to Robin instead. Eddie takes the last open spot, opposite from you.

A hush falls over the group while you peruse the menu. The waitress comes and takes orders; waters all around, coffee, and juice, a blueberry short stack for Robin, French toast for yourself, a breakfast burrito for Steve, and fried eggs and sausage for Eddie, with a bottle of hot sauce, please and thank you.

Polite chatter resumes, and quickly devolves into familiar banter around mouthfuls of food, though you stay quieter than the rest, thoroughly worn out. Steve and Robin’s camaraderie takes up the bulk of the conversation, anyway, both of them firing back and forth at each other with ease. You decide that you like Steve — he’s clearly grown into a genuinely nice guy, different from the high school boy Robin told you he once was, but it seems he’s retained just the perfect amount of bitchiness. It’s easy to see why she’s so fond of him.

You’re content to watch and listen to them with mild amusement (though Steve periodically directs his comments towards you, subtly watching your reaction to what he says) and it seems that Eddie is, too. You can’t tell if he’s used to being their third wheel or if he’s just being shy because there’s a new person around.

Robin and Steve enter a fierce debate about something or other — the prospective music career of someone named Tammy that you vaguely recall being a former crush of Robin's. You face Eddie and ask in a hushed tone, “Are they always like this?” 

He swallows a bite of gooey, Tabasco-smothered egg. “Pretty much.”

“I wouldn’t have the energy,” you marvel.

Eddie chuckles. He shifts in his seat, and his leg bumps into yours under the table. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, turning pink again.

“That’s okay.” You study his face, which is angled down towards his plate, decidedly away from your gaze. His eyes are big and dark and warm, like sticky-sweet molasses.

“You have very pretty eyes,” you tell him matter-of-factly, just as there’s a lull in Robin and Steve’s argument. In tandem, both of them turn their heads to stare at you.

Surprise flickers across Eddie’s face when he realizes you’re speaking to him. His face warms to an even deeper red, but he looks pleased; and you’re glad for it. 

“Thank you?” It comes out like a question.

“You’re welcome.” You nod and give him a soft smile, which he returns, and for a moment you might as well be the only two people in the room.

Unbeknownst to you, Robin watches the exchange with her head cocked to the side, eyebrows raised in surprise. You return to eating your breakfast, and she casts Steve an apologetic look. Eddie tries to keep his expression neutral, hiding his glee.

You excuse yourself to the restroom. As soon as you’re gone, Robin says, “Sorry, Steve.”

He just sighs in defeat, slumping back against the booth’s cushion. “Whatever.”

Eddie stabs a fork in his direction. “You’re not even over Wheeler yet, anyway. Let me have this.”

Robin’s brow furrows. “You’re still hung up on Nancy? Steve, come on.”

Steve’s mouth drops open. “You’re the one who said we should get back together!” he cries.

Robin’s mouth pulls to the side in mild guilt. “Which was a mistake on my part, I will admit.”

“Just wasn’t meant to be,” Eddie chimes in. 

Steve turns his incredulous look to Eddie. “And don’t even get me started on what you told me about her —”

“I’m the last person you should be taking relationship advice from,” he interrupts nonchalantly. 

Steve gapes at his so-called friends. Robin plows on.

“I’m sorry, but if you’re not over Nance, I’m not letting you near my girl. She’s not gonna be your rebound; she deserves better than that.”

“Yeah,” concurs Eddie, the word garbled around a forkful of food, “like me.”

Steve drops his head onto the table. 

“And stop trying to flirt with her, so I can.”

“Yeah, because you’re doing such a great job at that so far,” says Steve sarcastically, forehead still pressed against the formica.

“I’m gettin’ warmed up! Just give me a second, Christ.”

Steve, though snarky on the outside, is still soft on the inside, and so feels a pang of sympathy — he knows why Eddie’s nervous around girls. One drunken night he, Eddie, and Dustin had been shotgunning cans of shitty beer in the Hendersons’ backyard, and he’d spilled his guts about the abysmal reality of his love life. Not that Steve’s is going much better, obviously. But Eddie had deep-rooted fears that went beyond Steve’s understanding, insecurities that harkened back to his childhood and twisted into trickier and trickier knots the older he got. 

Eddie has his reasons to be nervous.

“Alright,” says Steve, finally yanking his head back up off the table. “I give, she’s all yours. But I’m gonna remind you — and don’t take this the wrong way — that all she’s done so far is give you a single compliment. Don’t get carried away.”

“Too late,” Eddie replies dreamily. “I’m already planning my proposal.”

Robin starts laughing, just as you approach the table again. 

“What’s so funny?”

“Boys,” she replies without hesitation. She takes another sip of coffee. “I’m so glad I’m gay.”

You finish the rest of your breakfast. When the waitress offers to bring the checks around, you’re quick to foot the bill.

“Please, it’s the least I can do,” you say among the chorus of protests. “I don’t know what I would have done if you guys hadn’t shown up.”

“Ended up in the Weekly World News,” Eddie teases.

“What a high honor that would have been.” You roll your eyes. “I think I’ll pass.”

Steve drives everyone back to the house, and a wave of sadness washes over you as you all pile into the kitchen once more. The prospect of the boys’ departure fills you with a strange kind of emptiness; it hits you that you really don’t want them to leave. You’re already feeling attached.

You suppose being rescued from a monster is just one of those things that brings people closer together, like a family barbecue, or making a blood oath.

And truth be told, you feel slightly…uneasy. Discombobulated. Though the events of the morning are still fresh in your mind, the steps of your daily routine are drifting hazily back to you through the fog of shock. Normally at this hour, you’d be plugging away at work. You have an explanatory email to write to your boss for missing today, and you imagine Robin will be submitting something similar. A nine-to-five job, running errands, going to happy hour — they all seem so trivial. How are you supposed to go back to all those things as though nothing out of the ordinary happened? Knowing that your best friend used the free time she had between finishing high school and working retail to help save the world from monsters and government conspiracies and God only knows what other crazy shit?

It’s all too surreal. You grip the edge of the kitchen table with one hand, steadying yourself. Easy girl.

You glance around, then choose to settle your gaze on Eddie, soothed by all his dark, warm colors.

Steve checks his watch, sighing. “We should probably head back. I got the afternoon shift today.”

Robin shakes her head in disbelief. “I cannot believe that Family Video is still fucking open.”

Steve ignores this and immediately turns to you instead. “To clarify, I have a real job, too — I was part-time at my company, and now I’m transitioning to full-time.” He’s needlessly defensive. “Managing the video store’s been a nice side gig, but I swear I’m retiring.”

You blink. “You don’t have to defend Family Video to me, Steve. It’s a very respectable establishment.”

“Yeah,” agrees Eddie, “Fuck the government, you’re the real backbone of our society.”

“Fuck off, Munson.”

“Well, this has been a grand old time,” Robin interrupts their bickering, yawning and stretching her arms dramatically. “But I think I need to go home. Smooth things over with the wife before she starts panicking again.” As though suddenly remembering your earlier distress, she turns to you, frowning. “Do you need me to stay with you?”

Not wanting to burden your friend who is being oh-so-chill about the science-fiction film that is literally her life, you immediately lie. “No, I’m okay.”

Her bright blue eyes narrow, not believing you. “I’ll stay,” she says decidedly.

“No, Rob, I think I’m just gonna go to sleep, honestly.” You are tired. Your bones feel weary; you want nothing more than to collapse back into bed and slip into unconsciousness again. “You go ahead and go home.”

You shift your attention towards Steve and Eddie, who are both hanging quietly by the door.

“Again, I can’t thank you guys enough. Really,” you tell them again, stepping forward with arms outstretched. It doesn’t matter that you just met; you need a proper goodbye from both of them. Right away Steve obliges, and wraps his arms around you, patting your back gently before stepping away again.

Eddie hesitates, looking bashful when you turn to him next, and you lower your arms in embarrassment. You don’t want to make him feel like he has to hug you if he doesn’t want to. But before you can feel too stung about it, he steps forward and embraces you tightly.

It’s oddly intimate — his arms are low, circled around your waist, and his cheek presses against your hair. He sighs, a soft exhale that you can’t see or hear but rather, you feel. The creeping sense of loss grows stronger when he releases you again.

“See you soon, I hope.” Steve gives you a final wave, when he’s halfway out of the house. “We should all get together sometime. Y’know, on non-monster related business,” he jokes.

“For sure,” you promise, fluttering your fingers back at him.

“And if you ever need anything,” Eddie’s low voice is suddenly close to your ear, “just let me — us — know. We’ll be here before you know it.”

You let out a small, shuddery breath. “Thank you,” you whisper gratefully, touched by his attentiveness. Eddie seems to be the only other person who understands the gravity of what you’ve seen. Robin and Steve have been in the game too long, perhaps, and although they’re understanding, the remarkability of their Upside Down has worn off. 

Eddie, however, doesn’t appear to have achieved quite the same level of nonchalance that they have, and when he looks at you, his concern is tangible. It’s etched in the set of his frown, practically staring out at you from those big eyes of his. Those big, pretty eyes. 

“See you around,” he says softly. 

And with that, he’s gone.

thank you for reading!!! 🦇💙

taglist: @kores-mun-son-n-more

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson reader insert #eddie x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson series #god i hope this pacing is okay? this is the longest fic I’ve ever written #can’t tell if I’ve jammed too much in here or not enough 🤷🏻‍♀️

[silvergyus]

hii!! hope ur doing great!!

i was going to ask for some fluffy hueningkai smut for the valentines day event :)) i need more fics about him being infatuated w chubby women?

lessons in chemistry

pairing: hueningkai x fem!reader

summary: kai has been harboring a not-so-secret crush on his study buddy all year. what will happen when he gets an unexpected text asking if you can stay the night?

warnings: college au, friends to lovers, only one bed trope, reader is a few years older than kai ("noona" is not used), kai is a lil pervy, chubby!reader, reader's pubes are mentioned exactly once, experienced!reader, a teeeeny bit of dubcon (just over the clothes teasing), fingering (y/n receiving), protected sex

word count: 5,200+

author’s note: requested as part of my valentine's event 🏹💘 tysm for requesting!! I got a lil obsessed with this one and I really hope you like it!

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*＊

Kai had been infatuated with you since the start of last semester. The two of you sat near one another for a large science lecture. It was a gen-ed filler class for the both of you that you were just trying to get out of the way. Kai was a first year music major and you had just switched majors from fine arts to liberal arts and suddenly found yourself in need of a few more required science credits.

He fell in love with you the first moment he saw you, sitting down a row ahead of him in the dim lecture hall, the low light illuminating your features. Twice a week for three weeks he admired you fondly from his unofficial assigned seat. His notes were often lacking- sentences missing from the slides that he forgot to copy down while lost in the thought of you instead. You were the highlight of the dull class for him. He’d never forget the way his heart almost leaped out of his chest when you finally turned around to smile at him. Your smile was warm and inviting as you asked him to be your partner for an assignment. He’d never been particularly suave, but the stumbling, stuttered “yes, of course” he replied with was enough to make him want to curl up in a ball. But you just giggled, your laugh like music, accepting it in stride.

From that day on he was your study buddy, never missing a library date. The two of you worked on assignments together, studied for exams and shared snacks late into the night.

You grew close over the course of the semester, inside jokes blossoming between the two of you. You were older, more organized than he was. You knew your way around campus and the city and you were eager to offer your advice. You laughed at his jokes and loved to hear the recordings he made of his guitar and piano playing. As friendship grew between the two of you, so did his feelings for you.

Anxiety swirled in his head as winter finals approached, unsure of whether or not you’d be in the same lab section as him in the spring. He worried that if you weren’t, he’d lose his chance to talk to you. When you told him your schedule- classes aligning perfectly with his- he almost hugged you then. Relief flooded his chest, thankful for the chance to see you twice a week for an additional four months.

His friends had caught on to the fact that he was crushing on someone; they saw the way his eyes lit up when certain notifications flashed on his screen. They had been nudging him to invite you to study at the dorm, even promised to clean it so he wouldn’t be embarrassed to bring you by. But you lived off campus in your own apartment. Why would you ever want to hang out in his shared dormitory? No, he’d just keep doing what he was doing: being your cute and reliable study buddy.

----

You knew Kai had a crush on you.

It was obvious in the way he texted you back immediately, even when you knew he’d swipe away notifications for the rest of his friends. Obvious in the way he shifted in his seat if you leaned over his shoulder to look at his notes. Obvious in the way he practically vibrated out of the chair the first time you decided to sit next to him in the lecture hall instead of a row ahead. He always brought your favorite snacks and packed your favorite drinks when you met up for study sessions. You couldn’t remember telling him what your favorites were either, he just paid attention like that.

You didn’t mind, in fact, you liked having the cute boy’s attention. Kai was tall and broad and dorky and shy, but you had gotten him to open up to you, bloom like a flower into sharing his silly and passionate self. Kai was a good friend and a bit of an ego boost as well. Here was this tall boy with sharp cheekbones who cared about your thoughts and opinions. So, so what if you caught him staring down your shirt when he was supposed to be copying your notes? It's not like you hadn't stared at his ass in his jeans more than a few times.

And truth be told, you really did need him as a study buddy.

----

The cool of winter was slipping away to spring, first flowers peaking their heads out of the damp earth. Kai was losing his mind.

His friends had figured out more about you and the extent of his devastating crush and were making bets on how he would fumble you. Beomgyu had struck a particularly sensitive nerve with the simplicity of his bet: that Kai would just never get the nerve to ask you out for more than a library study session. It was stupid and it wouldn’t normally piss him off, but he was scared that they were right. He didn’t want to miss his chance with you.

You had become really important to him over the course of the school year and he couldn’t stand the thought of you just being a class friend, someone he lost after finals ended. He already experienced that anxiety when he worried about your spring schedule, but had lucked out despite his inaction. He wasn’t sure what he’d do now that the end of the school year was approaching.

----

The soft patter of rain filled the spaces in between notes as Kai worked on his piano final composition. He knew how the piece started, and how it ended, but he struggled to find the perfect rhythm to pull it together. He had been locked in his room for hours, long fingers dancing over the keys again and again, trying out new arrangements and then scrapping them when they weren’t right.

Nothing was right. Dejected, he pushed his chair away from his keyboard, pulling off his headphones and huffing as he reached for his phone, needing a distraction. He frowned when he saw two missed calls from you and a string of worried texts.

Hey soooo….

I left my bag in my ta’s office and I they won’t answer any of my emails and I don’t have their number

and my keys were in my bag….

and now I can’t get in my apartment 😅

and all my other friends are out of town..

can I please stay with you?

Kai called you immediately. You picked up on the second ring.

“Y/n? Are you okay?” He asked worriedly.

“Kai! Oh my gosh you called me back! Thank you so much, I wasn’t sure-”

“You can stay here.” He said quickly.

“You mean it?”

“Yes.” He was organizing his room as you spoke, throwing dirty clothes in the hamper and wrapping up charging cables. “Do you know which building I’m in?”

“I think so. I’m actually not too far away.”

Kai could hear the rain as you spoke, muffling your voice. “Oh gosh, do you have an umbrella?”

You laughed sarcastically. “Haha, no, but I’ll be there in ten minutes. Can you come down to let me in?”

“Yes, yes I’ll be there. Do you need me to stay on the phone?”

“No, uh, it’s actually getting kinda really wet. I’ll just meet you in the lobby.”

“Okay, stay safe. I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

You hung up and Kai immediately ran to his roommates to fill them in.

----

You were soaked head to toe when you walked into the small lobby of Kai's dorm building. He was nervously shifting his weight between his feet as he waited for you to arrive. His voice was laced with worry when he ran over to you, asking how you were doing the second you walked through the double doors. His worry was cute. You liked how much he cared.

“I’m okay, just cold.”

The elevator ride up to the dorm Kai shared with Taehyun and Beomgyu was filled with a charged silence, broken only by the patter of droplets falling from your clothes onto the floor. You hadn’t met either of his roommates yet, but you’d heard stories. You weren’t sure if you’d meet either of them tonight either, but all you really wanted to do was change out of your soaked clothes and go to bed.

Kai apologized for things being messy before opening the door, but he had no need. The small shared space was cleaner than expected for three college-aged boys. Each had their own room and then a shared kitchen and bathroom. You followed Kai to his narrow bedroom.

His standard-issue twin xl was filled with plushies, a grey bunny which was clearly the oldest and most well-loved sat in a place of honor in the very front. It made you smile, this display of softness. Beside the bed was his desk and keyboard just beyond that. The space was cozy with the low light of a singular bedside lamp.

You turned around to face the room’s owner where he stood in the doorway, suddenly awkward in his own space. “Cute room. I like your plushies.”

Red blush immediately tinged his ears. His eyes fell to the floor as he awkwardly laughed. “Haha, yeah um, I can move those.”

“You don’t have to.” The silence between you was still charged from the elevator, but you could barely focus on it with the way the cold rain had settled into your bones. “Um, is it okay if I take a shower? I’m freezing.”

“Oh! Uh, yeah- of course! I have an extra towel. Do you need clothes?” He began to rifle through his drawers. “I think mine will fit you. What do you want?” He was cute the way he looked over at you as if picturing each item in the drawers on your body.

----

Kai sat on his bed anxiously bouncing his leg as he waited for you to finish in the bathroom. He was trying his best to suppress the thought of you in the shower, water falling over your curves. He shook his head, trying and failing to shake out the thought of the river of soapy bubbles running between your breasts, trailing down over your plush tummy. But even if he shook that thought, there was still the fact that you would exit the shower and put on his clothes and then get in his bed. His head was spinning with possibilities.

His leg was bouncing fast enough for it to start to cramp by the time you walked into his room. His ears burned as he took you in. His dark pullover clung to your figure, settling at your hips. You smiled at him before turning to hang your towel on the back of his door. Oh no, he thought. He had fished an old pair of basketball shorts out of his drawer for you to sleep in since your clothes were hung precariously in the bathroom in an attempt to dry them. The fabric was stretched tight around your hips and ass, leaving little to his imagination. He stifled a groan at the sight when his hoodie rode up to show the dimples on your back as you reached up to throw the damp towel over the hook.

You looked so good in his clothes it made his head spin. He wanted to see you in his clothes all the time, wanted you to show everyone you were his. Wanted you to be his for real.

He was sure he looked like a wreck when you turned around, cocking your head to ask what he was thinking. “I um, did you- did you eat?”

“Yeah, I ate dinner before I saw my TA.” You sat down beside him on the bed. He could feel the warmth radiating off your skin from your hot shower. “Actually, um, I know it’s kind of early, but this whole thing has been really stressful and I’m just really tired.”

“Yeah, that’s okay. I’m sorry this happened to you.” He practically vibrated when you rested your head against his shoulder, not even caring if his shirt got wet.

“Not your fault.” Your voice was soft. “Thank you for letting me crash. I can’t tell you how much it means.”

“It’s no problem. I’d do anything if you asked.” Kai wasn’t sure how much he wanted you to read into that sentence.

----

The two of you talked for a bit before a big yawn prompted Kai to ask you about sleeping. He insisted that he’d sleep on the floor for you to take his bed. You argued back that you could take the floor since it was his room and just one night wouldn’t hurt you but he wouldn’t budge. You finally conceded and found yourself tucked under his covers next to his army of plushies.

The room was dark except for the dim glow of campus peeking through the blinds and the multicolor lights of his pc that lit the space with a shifting neon hue. You rolled over to peak over the edge. Kai was laying on the floor face up, hands over his chest. He was wide awake and his eyes immediately found yours. “Hey,” he whispered, “you should be sleeping.”

You couldn’t stand the fact that he was sleeping on the hard floor, shitty dorm carpet against his back and a throw blanket the only thing to keep him warm. This was his room after all. And beyond the injustice of kicking him out onto the cool floor, you didn’t want to let the opportunity to be wrapped up in his strong arms pass you by. “Can you please come up here?” You could see his eyes widen and before he had the chance to argue you used the line he couldn’t refuse. “I’m still really cold.”

He sputtered cutely, looking for words. “Are you sure?”

You kept your voice quiet as you pleaded; “Please Kai.”

He didn’t say anything as he stood up and climbed into the small bed. You moved to the far edge of the mattress, positioning yourself against the wall. You wondered how he slept comfortably here each night, his large frame filled up most of the narrow space, and you doubted that his feet weren’t hanging off the edge. With your body taking up space too, there was no way for the two of you to not touch.

Kai was shy with his actions, reverting back to the unsure boy you met at the beginning of the school year. “Um, uh- is this okay?” He asked as he gingerly settled his arm across your waist.

“Yes, perfect.” You backed up to snuggle into his broad chest. Heat radiated off of him, warming you instantly. “Mmmm, you’re so warm.”

----

Your body fit against Kai's like his matching puzzle piece. His arm slotted perfectly in the space between your tummy and chest. He felt like he was made to hold you just like this. This moment was perfect, everything he could've asked for after pining after you for months. He could breathe in the scent of your skin and hair, still slightly damp from the rain and shower. Here you were, in his clothes, in his bed, in his arms. He was on cloud nine. Everything was perfect.

Except for the fact that you kept wriggling your hips against him.

You had to be doing it on purpose. As far as he could tell you were sleeping, but the subtle movements of your ass against his front were driving him crazy. He had backed his hips up as far as he could given the narrow twin bed, but yours had followed. He prayed that you were asleep and wouldn't notice his half-hard dick pressed up against you.

He thought he was in the clear, your hips had slowed and he thought he'd make it through the night without embarrassing himself. He could do this- sleep with you in his arms then get up and jerk off in the morning before you woke up and it would be like nothing happened, like he wasn't cuddled up next to you thinking about how his hand was so, so close to your chest and your ass was so warm against him. He'd savor this moment for what it was and then make his move later. But then you spoke.

“Kai,” your whisper pierced through his thoughts like a hot knife, “are you hard for me?”

His mind blanked. Fuck, he was really in it now.

“It's okay if you are.” Your hand found his, drawing gentle circles on his palm. You continued playing with his fingers as the silence stretched, charged and electric between you. Kai didn't breathe, hanging on for what would happen next. “You know, I've seen the way you look at me.” You wiggled your hips again, slow and deliberate. “Saw the way you blushed when I came in here with your clothes on.”

It felt like Kai was on fire. His body blushed and he could feel the blood rushing to his cock. He felt guilty, caught in the act. “I know you have a crush on me Kai.”

He wanted to protest, began to speak a strangled “I-” but you cut him off.

“I have a little crush on you too.”

Your words knocked the air out of Kai's lungs. His head spun. You were in his bed, in his clothes, holding his hand, pressing your ass against his dick on purpose and you liked him back. He felt like he was short circuiting.

He could hear the smile in your voice when you whispered again. “You can touch me if you want.”

----

The silence stretched between you longer than you expected. Part of you worried that you had misread everything, that you had crossed a line. But after what felt like eons Kai's hand finally moved.

His fingers twitched in your grasp, fingers splaying out and holding onto your tummy over the sweatshirt. You were silent as he began to slowly move down, curiously slipping under the thick hem. You drew in a breath quickly when his fingers brushed against your skin. His fingers were slightly calloused from playing guitar, the rough pads of his fingers leaving goosebumps where they explored over your tummy.

“Tell me to stop.” His voice was low in your ear as his hand moved closer to your chest.

You stayed quiet; he ran a finger over the underside of your breast. His movements were slow, cautiously exploring your flesh. He finally reached up to cup your breast, his big hand igniting your nerves where he touched. For a moment he just held you like that, as if he was committing the feel to memory. His first squeeze was more for him than for you, but it felt damn good nonetheless. You let out a soft sigh, relishing in the feeling. He squeezed again, spurred on by your encouragement.

“What do you like?” He asked. You whispered back how you liked to be touched and he complied, rubbing and pinching at your nipples while you sighed again. You could feel him fully hard in his sweatpants behind you, the heat of his length and the teasing of your chest making you grow wet in his shorts.

“Kai,” you whined, growing impatient with his touches, wanting more. You ground your hips back against him. You could feel his cock through your shorts and it was making you desperate.

Kai stifled a groan from behind you at your neediness. His hand cautiously moved down from your breasts, pausing to squeeze the plush of your tummy as it ventured down. His fingers paused, dipping just under your waistband to gently stroke your skin there.

----

Kai gasped when he realized you weren't wearing any panties. Of course, he thought. You must've left them to dry with the rest of your clothes. He was hard before, but discovering that you were whiny and needy in his shorts without panties on made him grow impossibly harder.

He reached down, through the soft tuft of hair to find your pussy. You moaned when his fingers finally found your clit. He liked that sound, wanted to hear it again. You spread your legs a little, granting him better access to your body. He dipped his fingers through your soft folds, finding you wet for him. He couldn't help but moan as he explored your heat, coating his fingers in your wetness.

You let out a series of quiet gasps and whines as he teased you, rubbing small circles on your clit and through your folds. He found your entrance after a moment but was nervous to slip his fingers inside. Your impatient hips bucked at his hand and broke his questioning thoughts. He slowly sunk one of his slender fingers into your wet heat. You buried your face in his pillow to stifle your cry when he did. Your noises were like music to his ears and he slowly pumped the finger in and out, relishing the feeling of your walls sucking him in.

“More,” you gasped quietly, “please.”

He obliged, adding a second finger. You were keening now, rocking your hips to meet his hand as it pumped into you. The cheap bedframe squeaked softly with your movements but Kai didn't think it was anything loud enough for his roommates to hear.

You whined when he curled his fingers, throwing your head back onto his shoulder. “Kai, Kai,” you babbled, desperation dripping from your voice. You were so wet beneath his hand. “Wanna kiss you. Need to kiss you before you make me cum.”

He laughed at that. “What do you mean?” He slowed his movements when you gripped his forearm, but kept his fingers buried in your pussy.

“You're gonna make me cum, but,” your voice was shy as you continued, “I really wanna kiss you. I haven't even kissed you yet.”

Kai felt himself blush at your words. Gosh you were sweet. He smiled and kissed your cheek where he could reach from this position before removing his hand from your shorts.

You were quick to shuffle so you straddled his lap. Your clothed heat rested on his erection, which was almost painfully hard. He could just make out your features in the low light. You were so pretty, smiling down at him. He wanted to kiss you so bad. So when you leaned forward he sat up to meet you.

Your lips were soft against his, the first kiss relatively chaste as you pulled away to admire him. He basked in your gaze, loving the way you looked at him with such affection. When you kissed him again it was deeper.

----

Kai had perfect lips for kissing. He opened up to you like a flower on the second kiss. You traced his bottom lip with your tongue before he parted his lips slightly, granting you access to taste him. He moaned quietly into the kiss, hands settling around you. He brought you closer with the hand on the back of your head and gripped tightly at your ass with the hand that had been playing with your pussy just moments ago.

You shifted in his lap as his tongue explored your mouth. The change in pressure caused him to groan loudly into the quiet of his room. He broke the kiss but stayed close, whispering your name against your lips. “Please, I'm so sensitive right now.” His voice was deep and rough, held back from a full plead.

You smiled and kissed him again. “I've been teasing you for a long time haven't I?” You said, half pouting. You placed your lips right against the shell of his ear as you whispered- “you can fuck me if you want.”

His whine was stifled in his throat but you still caught it. You could feel his cock twitch beneath you at your words. Gosh, he was big. You could properly feel him now that you were straddling him. You didn't want to cum without having kissed him, but his teasing had left you needy and aching for him to fill you up again.

“Please,” was all he said before you nodded, tugging at the hem of his shirt.

“Wanna see you. Can I take this off?” He was happy to oblige, nodding before lifting his arms to let you undress him. You pulled his sweatshirt off you, letting him take in the sight of you in the dim light. The two of you sat like that for a moment, admiring each other. His hand reached out to trace over your skin once again, taking in your form in the low light. You did the same, running your fingers over his broad chest and wide shoulders. His hands continued to love on your tummy, more than anyone had done in the past. You found it cute, like most things about him, and appreciated that he seemed to enjoy a part of you you'd often been told to conceal.

Soon enough his hands found the hem of your- his- shorts again. You had to get off his lap to slide them off of you, your wetness clinging to the material as you did. Kai shucked off his bottoms as you did yours and you settled onto his lap again, the both of you fully naked in one another's embrace.

You could feel Kai's heartbeat racing under the hand you held to his chest. “Are you excited?” You teased.

“Y/n,” he started, “I really like you. I've liked you for a long time now. Since I first met you, I've liked you.”

You squeezed his hand, wanting to reassure him that you felt the same. “I really like you too, Kai. For a while now too.” He kissed you again. The kiss was charged with emotion, he poured his feelings into it and you reciprocated.

When the kiss broke you were both breathing hard. “You have a condom, right?” He nodded quickly, reaching to throw open the top drawer of his bedside table. Inside was a full box of unopened foils.

Sliding the condom onto Kai's length made your pussy clench around nothing. He was so big and heavy in your hand. He gasped like it hurt when you first held his cock, his angry tip a leaking mess of precum. He watched you with huge eyes as you rolled it on.

You spit onto your hand, slicking him up through the thin barrier. He couldn't stop the whine that he emitted as you stroked him.

When you finally hovered over his lap again you felt dizzy with anticipation. Kai's fingers had been long and stuffed you full, but his cock was surely going to fill you to the brim. You lined him up at your entrance and began to sink down.

His mouth fell slack when his fat tip pushed past your tight entrance. You took him inch by inch, fighting the urge to just sit on it, forcing yourself to take it slow and adjust. It felt like he was splitting you open. He was bigger than anyone you'd had before. Long and thick, he hit every spot inside of you as you finally rested on his hips, taking him to the hilt. You had to catch your breath.

----

Kai’s eyes were squeezed tight, his breaths heavy. The feeling of being inside of you better than he had imagined. You were so warm, your wet walls holding him so tight even through the latex barrier.

“Kai,” you whispered, rubbing his arm to bring him back to you. “Is this still okay?”

He opened his eyes and nodded. “Yes, yes. Just need a sec.” He was trying his hardest not to cum right there. But you were so beautiful in the shifting hues coming from his pc, the dim light illuminating your features. The moonlight from the crack in the blinds shone on your lashes as you watched him carefully.

“Okay,” he finally said, feeling like he wasn’t about to immediately cum at the slightest sensation. “I’m ready.”

You hummed and kissed him again before leaning back and slowly rolling your hips. His hands flew to your thighs, gripping them tightly as he tried to keep from moaning loudly and alerting his roommates to what was happening. You smiled down at him, speeding up a bit.

He was mesmerized by the way you looked as you rode him. He must’ve looked like a dumbstruck fool the way you giggled at his expression. “You like what you see?”

“Very much. You’re so beautiful.” Your face split into a huge smile and you kissed him again.

“I think you’re pretty beautiful too.” Kai felt himself blush at your words, not used to praise like this.

He wasn’t going to last very long, not with your sweet words and the slow drag of your walls around his cock. He moved his hands from where they rested, exploring the curves of your body, committing them to memory. He’d always had a thing for soft tummies, but your thick thighs, full breasts and even the soft creases of your back all delighted him. His touches spurred you on, your increased enthusiasm pushing him closer to the edge.

“Gonna cum.” He whined.

“Touch me here,” you guided his hand to your clit. “We’ll cum together.”

He fought through the building pressure, gathering your wetness to coat his thumb. A sigh escaped your lips when he rubbed your clit. He easily matched the pace you set with your hip, musician’s muscle memory kicking in.

“I’m so close,” his voice was strained, “gonna-”

His orgasm hit him hard. His hands squeezed hard at your hips as you rode him through his high, chasing after yours. The sounds you made when you came were music, a falling set of whimpers and stutters that washed over Kai like a wave. You slumped into Kai’s chest, aftershocks still causing your pussy to flutter and clench around him. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you in a sweet embrace as you both came down from your highs.

----

You hummed contentedly into the space between Kai’s shoulder and throat. He was warm and strong and all around you. You felt safe and cozy in his arms and completely blissed out from his cock. You knew you needed to clean up but you wanted to savor this moment for as long as you could.

“Hey, y/n,” Kai’s voice was a soft whisper above you. You hummed again in acknowledgement. “Do you think maybe we could go on a date sometime?”

You laughed, burying your face into his chest. Gosh, this boy. You propped yourself up onto your elbow, taking in the beauty of Kai’s features as he looked at you expectantly. “I would love that.” His smile was immediate. “And by the way, you could have asked me at any point in the year and I would’ve said yes.”

You couldn’t quite make out the blush that spread across his cheeks in the low light, but you kissed him again to let him know you meant it. You settled back onto his chest and he placed a soft kiss to the top of your head. “I’m kind of glad I left my bag in that office now.”

You could feel Kai’s laugh through his chest. “I am too.”

author’s note: this is a work of fiction not meant to accurately represent the idol. please do not repost.

taglist: @theresawtf

#txt smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #hueningkai hard hours #hueningkai smut #hueningkai hard thoughts #hyuka smut #hyuka hard hours #hyuka hard thoughts #ari's mailbox 📬 #ari writes #txt: kai

[bakugosatoru]

You and Bakugo adopt a kitten together

Requests Open!

Warnings: None Genre: Romantic Fluff Fic Type: Short Fanfic (1k Words) Fandom: My Hero Academia

Authors Note: I actually work at pet store and thought about this story in my head while working so now I shall share it with all of you.

"I still dont understand why we couldnt get a big dog" grumbled Bakugo, as you wandered the rows of cages full of all myriad of rescued dogs and cats.

"I don't know, maybe because our apartment lease very clearly states 'no dogs'? Besides, it wouldn't be fair honey, our apartment isn't exactly a penthouse, and with how much you and I are away with work? Poor thing would go crazy" You calmly explained for the hundredth time to your moping boyfriend.

It was his own fault, he had let his guard down. About a week ago you were both lying on the couch after a long mission and an ad came on the television about a rescue shelter near your apartment that had animals looking for their forever home.

"You know it could be fun to have a kitty, I had one growing up" You mumbled, cuddling up into your boyfriend on the couch.

"Oh? Yea sure honey" He mumbled, clearly a little too tired to be fully paying attention.

But that was all the confirmation you needed.

So here you were, walking the rows of dog and cats, looking for the new perfect addition to your little family. Your eyes scanned the various kittens in the various enclosures and you felt your heart melt, you just wanted to take them all home. But no, Katsuki made you promise you were only getting one on the drive here.

Finally you reached the room at the end of the hall. The shelter had placed the kitties that were up for adoption into the room for prospective families to take a look at, so you and Katsuki slipped through the two doors (to prevent any kitty escapees) and into a room full of fluffy balls of joy.

"Babe there's so many! Look how cute!" You beamed, stepping towards a small ribbon toy and picking it up, four or five kitties flocking to your feet as you swirled it around.

Katsuki just smiled as he stood back, watching you spin around, the kittens running after you. He wandered over to the bench on end of the room and sat down. You were the one that wanted the stupid cat after all, he was happy to just let you pick. But he couldn't help but smile at your excited squeals as the kitties clambered all over you.

Suddenly, he felt a sharp sensation in his leg. He looked down to see two small kittens, quite a lot smaller than the rest, clawing their way up his pant leg.

"Dumb cats, what are you doing? Your going to put holes in my pants you know!" He grumbled, with no real malice in his voice, as the two small kittens curled up into his lap. His hands hovered over the small creatures, not exactly sure what to do with them.

Gentle had never exactly been his forté

"Aw Katsuki honey, they like you!"

Bakugo looked up to see you walking over, that gorgeous smile on your face that always made him melt.

God you were too good for him.

"Dumb idiots just crawled up my pant leg and sat here, probably just think i'm a warm bed" He grumbled as you sat down next to him. You rested your head on his shoulders and you reached out and began to softly stroke the head of one of the kittens. A quiet purring radiating from it. Katsuki slowly lowered his hand to the other kitten, being as gentle as possible, using his fingers to scratch its head and around its ears. Soon enough, that kitten joined his friend in purring.

"That means they're happy right?" Bakugo mumbled

"Mhm" You smiled, pressing a small kiss to his cheek. There was nothing you loved more than seeing your loud, strong, and sometimes rough around the edges boyfriend turn into a gentle giant.

"I don't know how we're going to pick just one" You sighed, looking at the two kittens in your boyfriends lap. Bakugo paused for a second, before sighing.

"I know what your doing" He said, exasperated.

"I have absolutely no idea what you mean" You smirked

"Whatever, dumb idiot should have a friend or whatever." He grumbled, cradling both the kitties in his arm as he stood up to go find an employee to help with the paperwork.

"You mean it? We can get both?!" You leapt from the bench following your boyfriend and holding his free hand.

"Only if I get to name one of the dumb things" He grumbled, but he couldn't hide the smile curling at the side of his lips as he waved over the employee.

So after about an hour of paperwork, many thank you kisses, and a short ride home, you welcomed two new little fluffy creatures into your family.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bonus

"Babe you cannot name him Grenade" You laughed, cradling one of the kittens in your arms as you looked down at your boyfriend, sprawled out on the floor, playing with the other kitty.

"You said I could name one, that was the deal" He said, his smile evident in his voice.

"Come on! I named this little one Blossom!" You said, rolling yourself off the couch and onto the floor, allowing the two kitties to play together as you curled into Bakugo's side. His arms wrapping around you and pulling you closer.

"Hmmmm" He hummed, his chin resting against the top of your head.

"Explosion?"

"No"

"Murder"

"Absolutely not"

"Gunpowder kitty of death"

"Babe!" You laughed, wacking him in the arm with a cat toy that was laying on the ground.

"Well then, that settles it, Grenade it is" He said triumphantly, before turning your head slightly and catching your lips in a soft kiss.

"I love you dummy" You hummed as his lips parted from yours.

"I love you too babe, and our two new dumb cats" Bakugo sighed happily.

#bakugou x reader #bakugo fluff #mha fluff #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bakugou katsuki x reader #mha bakugou #bnha bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #NinesWritings

[illicitlimerence-writes]

teddy bears & blankets | m. verstappen

pairing: max verstappen x leclerc!reader

word count: 2.3k words

request: yes, by anon: “hear me out…single mum who’s a leclerc and max👀”

prompt: character a can’t wrap gifts to save their life. character b is their neighbor and can help. from this prompt list. not my prompts, credits to the person who created it!warnings: a baby, fluffy max, a sick baby:( language maybe, kinda angsty in the middle.

a/n: day 5! i really didn’t plan to write three kid fics in a row, but oh well. REMINDER THAT MY REQUESTS ARE CLOSED, EVEN IF IT’S FOR THE SPECIAL. pls, i don’t want to close my askbox but if i keep getting i’ll have to turn it off.

my masterlist / 25 days of christmas masterlist

he sighed, tossing yet another piece of wrapping paper aside. max was talented in many different things, but wrapping gifts just wasn’t one of them. he was already stressed enough having to buy a gift for a christmas party he had forgotten about, spending almost two hours in line at a store, and now he had no idea how to wrap this box. 

when he was sure that the paper was large enough to cover it completely, once he started placing the adhesive tape either one side was larger than the other or he placed it in a way that just didn’t work. he decided to just give up and place a bow on top. 

he put on his coat, with the gift in one hand and keys in the other. he stepped out and closed the door, and was about to place the key in the keyhole when he heard the sound of the elevator arrive at his floor. he turned his head, seeing his neighbor and her daughter.

“hi, max,” she said, waving her free hand at him, the other one was holding her sleeping child. “i thought you’d be at charles’ by now,” she smiled.

“yeah, that’s where i’m heading, i just… i couldn’t figure out how to wrap this,” he held up the gift, “but i gave up,” he chuckled, watching her shift her weight from one leg to the other, “let me help you,” he said, opening his arms to grab the child. 

when max found out a few months ago that his new next-door neighbor had a one-year-old baby he feared the worst. he was used to the peace and quiet of having a floor all to himself, and a baby would undoubtedly break that silence he cherished so much. but that wasn’t the case with (y/n) and alison leclerc. 

alison was probably the best, well-behaved child max had ever met, he was used to his nephews, rowdy and a little bratty if he was being honest, but alison was soft, gentle, not too noisy and always staring up at him with eyes that looked just like charles’.

“she’ll wake up, can you get the door, please?” she asked, handing him the keys. he nodded and opened the door for her. “thank you,” she turned on the lights, “make yourself at home, i’ll put this little one to bed and i’ll help you with that,” she smiled at him.

“oh, no, you don’t have to- i-”

“my brother has been working all day for this dinner to be perfect, he won’t let you in if you show up with an unwrapped gift.” she raised an eyebrow, “he’s been freaking out all day, so, for the sake of charles’ health, let me wrap that gift for you,” she used her mom voice, giving him one last look before walking to ali’s room.

“yes, ma’am,” max said, running to his place to grab the leftover wrapping paper. he returned just as she was walking back, still with alison in her arms, but this time the baby was awake. “what happened?” he asked, a smile on his face as he looked at the baby, with sleep evident in her eyes, her cheeks an intense shade of pink. 

“it’s like a curse,” she sighed, “right when i was placing her head on the pillow she woke up,” she placed ali on the counter, the baby immediately turning to crawl away, “nope, ali-”

“i’ll play with her, if that’s okay,” max offered. “a favor for a favor,” he said, walking to the little girl.

“what do you say ali? want to play with max?” she asked the girl, who had made her way to the fruit bowl and was playing with a small clementine. 

“mash,” ali said, trying to say max. he smiled.

max entertained the baby, letting her pick whatever she wanted to play with. she kept coming back to the small clementine, and as the girl’s mother was cutting the right amount of paper, ali handed him the clementine.

“you want me to eat it?” he asked, grabbing the fruit and lifting it up to his lips.

alison laughed, squealing and clapping her hands. 

“thank you, ali, that’s the best fruit i’ve ever had!” max opened his hand, lifting it in front of ali’s face. “high five,” he said, grabbing ali’s hand and clapping it against his own. ali laughed, doing it again and again, each time harder than the last. “ow,” he said, shaking his hand after one particularly hard clap. 

“ali, gentle,” her mother reminded her. max turned to the older leclerc girl, seeing her already done with the gift. “here you go, you’re free to leave now,” max inspected the gift, she’d even managed to make a bow out of the same paper.

“how did you do that?” he asked, staring at her in awe. she only shrugged.

“i’m multitalented,”

“can i come to you every time i need a gift wrapped?”

“yeah! we love having guests, don’t we, ali?” she asked, the girl had leaned against max’s torso, he was leaning against the edge of the counter, where ali was sitting to make sure she didn’t fall or crawl away. 

“i think she’s falling asleep.” he said, pressing a hand to the back of her head to support her.

“thank god,” she sighed, “i thought it was going to be another sleepless night.”

“she’s got issues sleeping at night?”

“lately, yeah.”

“i’ve never heard her,” max said, the leclercs apartment was always so quiet it almost felt like no one lived there.

“she’s not a crier. she just stares around,” 

“well…” he said, doubting for a second if he really wanted to say it, but he decided to do it, “feel free to stop by if you need anything. i mean it, whether it’s to entertain ali or… if you need company.”

he knew that parenting was already hard with both parents around, and he couldn’t imagine how difficult it was being a single parent. and he liked her, they knew each other since they were kids and had grown up together in a way, with her always tagging along to charles’ races and events. 

“thank you,” she said, walking closer to them, “and the same goes to you, mi casa es tu casa.” she smiled at him.

alison moved her head, extending her arms

“mama,” she yawned. 

“i think i’ll leave, she needs all the rest she can get,”

“yeah,” she nodded. “have a nice night, max.”

“thank you, you too.”

-

it was two weeks later, and again, max was struggling to decide whether he really should ask (y/n) for help. throughout those two weeks theyy had managed to run into each other more than the entire time they'd been neighbors. max would always pay a little extra attention to them, whether it was helping her with whatever she was carrying, opening the door for her, or holding alison in his arms. 

he could say that they were starting to become close friends, and after two weeks he found himself looking forward to seek her help.

he was standing in front of his mirror brushing his hair to make sure it was in place. he looked down to his bottles of cologne, and he grabbed one, how finger ready to apply it, but thought about alison, if the girl was to get close to him the chemicals from the fragrance could irritate her. 

he walked out of his room, with the roll of wrapping paper and the gift under his arm, something inside of him moved at the thought of seeing them again. 

he lifted his fist to knock on the door, waiting for the usual stomping of little feet or her soft voice. he waited a few seconds before knocking again. 

he heard soft whimpers getting louder, and soft shushing as the door opened. his face fell as he saw the state of both girls.

“what happened?” he asked immediately, seeing them both in their pjs, with alison crying soundlessly and her mother looking like she was on the verge of tears as well.

“i’m sorry, max, i- i can’t help you right now i-”

“no, no, forget about this, what’s wrong?” he asked, and right as he finished talking alison started coughing.

“she’s sick, and she can’t sleep and… god, i feel so… powerless,” she said, rubbing her hand up and down the baby’s back, “i wish i could make her feel okay but-” she shook her head, rubbing a hand down her face as tears started falling from her eyes.

“hey, it’s alright,” max whispered, walking in and wrapping his arm around her, “have you called her doctor?”

“yeah, he already prescribed the medicine, but… i don’t know what to do now, she keeps coughing and waking herself up.”

“mash,” they both looked at alison, watching her extend her arms towards him.

“no, baby, you’ll get max sick-” she explained, taking her arms down, but the baby insisted.

“it’s alright, i… i can hold her, i don’t mind.”

“but you’ll-”

“if it helps her, and you, i would love to hold her.” max said, watching ali lean herself forward. max dropped his stuff on the floor and held her. he placed the back of his hand against her forehead, “i think she’s got a fever.”

“yeah, the medicine should help with that.” she said, wiping her face with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. “god, i’m a mess. let me get your things so you-”

“no, forget about that. i’m staying.”

“what? max you don’t have-”

“i want to. i won’t be able to focus on anything all night knowing you’re both like this.” right then alison started coughing again, and max rubbed her back gently, whispering softly in her ear, “there you go, get it all out. want to look at the city?” he asked, walking to the window overlooking the harbor, “look at the boats and the lights, ali…” he said, the girl leaning her head on his shoulder and yawning. “she’s sleepy,” he told her mom.

“yeah, she hasn’t slept all day. only for a few minutes before having a coughing fit every time.” she explained.

“have you called your mom? or brothers?” he asked, knowing that they would all most likely be there to help them both if they knew.

“they’re all gone. on holiday. we were supposed to join them but… well, look at us.”

“well, you’re not alone anymore. i’m here,” he walked to her, wrapping his free arm around her, careful with the baby between them. 

“you- really don’t have to do this, you had plans and-”

“and i can see them tomorrow or next week, that’s the least of my problems right now. right now you both should get some sleep. this little one is already falling asleep.”

“i just hope she can rest more than fifteen minutes at a time,” 

“you want me to lay her down or-”

“yeah, come,” she said, walking down a hallway and opening the door to ali’s bedroom. everything was decorated in neutral warm colors and was very clean.

“i think this is the tidiest baby room i’ve seen,” max said, hoping to lighten the mood. 

“you should see my room. we’ve been sleeping there since she got sick, and it’s not pretty.”

“i’m sure it’s better than my room even when i’ve just cleaned it.”

she chuckled, preparing ali’s crib.

after placing her on the bed and waiting for her to fall asleep, they both stayed in her room, with max on the floor next to the crib, ready to act in case she started coughing or woke up. they stayed there for about twenty minutes, in silence, staring at alison longingly. 

max had grown attached to both of them, and the feeling he got when he first saw them that night was something he’d never felt before. he’d felt the back of his neck tingling, his heart seemed to sink down to his stomach. 

“i think this is it,”

“yeah?” max asked.

“yeah. she’s not even moving around, she used to squirm around, trying to get comfortable but now she’s… i think she’s finally gonna get some sleep,”

“and you should get some, too,” max said, eyes widening at what he had said, “sleep, i mean- i”

“i know what you meant,” she chuckled, covering her mouth with her hand to muffe her laugh. “i think i’ll just stay here for the night. i want to be here in case she wakes up.”

“well, we should get comfortable, then.” max said, leaning to grab a big stuffed bear and placed it beneath his head as a pillow.

“you’re not staying here, max. you really don’t have to.”

“of course i am. someone’s got to look out for you. and i know you’re both totally fine on your own normally, but these are not normal conditions. you need a little help, and i’m more than happy to be here.”

she smiled, a soft, sleepy smile that made max’s heart beat faster. she pulled out some blankets from the bottom drawer of ali’s wardrobe. scooting over next to max.

“you’ve got the pillow, i’ve got the blankets.” she said.

“i don’t know about you, but that sounds perfect.” 

“a sleeping, sick kid, a mom in the middle of an emotional breakdown, a teddy bear and blankets?”

“yeah.” he nodded, sounding absolutely serious about his posture.

“you’ve clearly not spend enough time in this house.” she joked, sliding down and wrapping the blanket around herself, getting ready to sleep, finally.

“well, i would love to do that. you know, to… get a gist of things around here.” he said, unaware of the smile on her face, since she’d turned her back to him.

“we’ll talk about it over breakfast.”

“that sounds perfect. good night.” he leaned down, giving alison one last look, making sure that she was still asleep before closing his eyes to sleep.

#max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #f1 imagine #f1 one shot #f1 x reader #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fic #max verstappen fan fiction #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen oneshot #max verstappen angst #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x leclerc!reader #f1 fiction #f1 fanfiction #f1 fic #f1 fandom #f1 fanfic #formula one x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula one imagine #formula 1 #f1 drivers one shot #f1 drivers x reader #f1 drivers #f1 drabble #25 days of christmas

[kiss-me-muchoo]

𝐇𝐮𝐫𝐭 𝐦𝐞, 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐨𝐤𝐚𝐲 || 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎’𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

part one || part two: so many signs

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲_ When Miguel fell so hard for an anomaly that ended up being another one of his canon events; a soulmate. Only that it was late, very late.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬_ fluff, angst?, reader is a hot Hispanic sunshine, plot twist at the end, age gap? (How old is Miguel?, like 28, early 30's?, reader is like 20 not specified) I'm 19, so in my head reader is 20, fuck it <3.

𝐀𝐍_ hellooo, this is my Ist fic for this fandom, I've been trying to hide this crush for weeks, I can't anymore.

♪ ♫ 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙒𝙊𝙍𝙎𝙏 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙮𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙈𝙞𝙜𝙪𝙚𝙡 𝙈𝙤𝙟𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙖.

<3,𝙄𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙭 (+fics)

_________________

[11 months before the events of SPIDER-MAN: ATSV]…

Nothing is perfect; nothing can be that special. But somehow, you ended up being that, at least almost. 

Because this is how everything starts; you were stressing out for college sophomore year finals when in the middle of your room, a portal opened and absorbed you. 

Sounds incredibly ridiculous and cringe… Right?. Sorry, but it’s about to get worse.

The portal only left you there, hanging between random universes, and out of nowhere, a spider bit you. And seconds later, you were back at home stressing over the finals.

Yeah, you didn’t think it would be a problem, only that it increased your phobia of spiders. Later, you accepted that Los Angeles would have an arachnid vigilante. 

Yeah, Los Angeles. No shit, you wouldn’t fly to save New York in your universe just to fit the stereotype. Besides, they already had one, the most significant and original anomaly, Miles Morales.

That’s for later, by the way.

You had your suspicions that the multiverse existed but no curiosity. You only cared about your sacred California and, to be more specific, your friends and family. 

So it goes; you were a sparkly spider-girl with glitter webs and fantastic hair, saving people from the crime on Skid Row, abusive elites in Downtown, corruption in Glendale, and extortions from Santa Clarita. 

Your family knew about it, and your friends too. They helped to pick out your surname; Aragmatica.

So you had everything; no pressure from being the spider-girl Aragmatica, wonderful friends, and family. A transcription remote job and a firm college pathway to be a writer and teacher. 

Except for one thing; love.

You didn’t have anyone to hold, anyone who made you laugh like never. Someone who made you feel the scarlet blush and raced heartbeats.

Nah, fuck that. You don’t need a man. 

________

Warm day in Hollywood Hills, 12:00 pm. 

Finally, your official transcript from that year was carefully sealed in an envelope. Summer break was yours, starting with a good ballet class.

Your spider senses weren’t fully developed because you never saw 4 pair of eyes watching you.

The class was fun, though. All the music was from the most famous plays, and having the opportunity to wear a tutu was always accepted. 

You didn’t care coming out of the building wearing it after the friendly teacher gifted you the fluffy piece of clothing.

You also didn’t care to sing slightly aloud as you walked towards your car. 

And that’s when 4 individuals interfered with your way; Peter B. Parker, Hobie Brown, and Gwen Stacy.

“Uh… nice cosplays. But the Comic-Con is more to the south. In San Diego…” They looked at each other. Only the older guy stepped further, laughing.

“Oh, you’re funny. There’s also one in my universe, but it’s celebrated in Coney Island and-“ only that Gwen pinched him. The older man frowned.

“She’s leaving, Peter,” Gwen said. 

“Hey! Wait!” Peter stopped you from closing your car door, and you looked more confused than ever.

“Dude, back off. There’s a kid between us. You don’t want to do this…” Hobie giggled. He had remained leaning against a mailbox during the whole interaction.

“What? No-, I-. We need to talk to you… we’re also spider people” Rolling your eyes, you just rested your head on the steering wheel.

“Yeah, your suits are too good to cosplay. I like your pointe shoes though” Gwen blushed but said thank you for your flattery. 

“I’m Peter Parker. The guy with the cool outfit that’s Hobie Brown. And the girl with the pointe shoes you liked is Gwen Stacy” They looked lovely. Hobie and Gwen, probably your age, but you were running late for dinner. You had to drop the transcript for validation in early registration for a master's program.

You didn’t have time for this Have you heard of the Avengers initiative? moment.

The best you could do was politely turn them down. But they were already inside your car. 

“Hey!. Okay, if this is some spider intervention, I don’t have time to travel between universes and that stuff” Hobie started playing your radio. Again, you rolled your eyes.

“This is good music, girl. Nice…” he said, making you smile a little. He seemed nicer.

“Thanks, but…” Then Gwen interrupted you.

“You could be dangerous or cause a massive disaster for the canon. You are a rare case between spiders” For the first time, you were quiet. Maybe that omen was this, that not everything could be perfect.

“You felt it….” Peter said because your silence was loud enough to tell him. 

“You knew about us then?” 

“The multiverse and variations are not a thrill in this universe. I wasn’t expecting this on a random Friday afternoon,” you explained.

“Our boss wants to meet you. We need to know what type of anomaly you are” They all heard you sighing. You had too many questions but were tired, so you wouldn’t be annoying. 

“Okay.” Peter shrugged in disbelief.

“That’s it?. No questions?” Gwen passed you a blue band, probably to travel between universes.

“She’s not energetic nor annoying. Miguel will like her,” Hobie stated, comfortable in the passenger seat. 

“Just don’t smile too much, avoid questions, and you’ll be fine” Humming in agreement, you waited.

A portal of bright colors and blinding flashes appeared seconds later from your car's windshield. It was different from what you expected. In the movies looked easier.

“Okay, here we go…” Peter announced. And with fast blood pressure, you followed them. 

The first thing you felt was the urge to complain on the ground. Laying on your stomach, with your hair in a now disheveled bun. 

Everyone turned to look at you, finally noticing you were wearing a tutu and leotard in grey and black colors. 

“Lost your hoodie?” Gwen asked, being the first to start giggling, followed by the others.

“Could any of you have alerted me to prepare for this type of landing?” You asked anyone in particular. Then you analyzed Gwen’s question. 

“MY hoodie!. Damnit, it was new!” And that’s how you lost 75 dollars. But soon, you stopped thinking about the new tour merch you lost.

It was a bright earth, futuristic and agitated. And as soon as you entered the giant building, you noticed it was full of spider people. 

From any size to any color, but… no one was similar to you. Well, you didn’t have a suit yet, but… you couldn’t feel a spider sense with anyone.

“Surprised?” Gwen asked, walking by your side. 

“Well. I’d rather say disturbed,” she giggled.

“You’re unlike any spider I’ve met,” the blonde added.

“I can’t be special. I must be the most boring spider-girl….” Bored or not, you were missing dinner. Your family would be worried if you didn’t come back past midnight. Hopefully, your first interaction with another universe will be quick.

“That’s why you must be here…” said a new voice.

A pregnant spider-woman?. Could you feel any weirder?.

“Yeah…I’m y/n. No suit yet, but I have the name of Aragmatica” She nodded. Her yellow glasses were very cool, you liked her look in general.

“We know that. But let’s go. Miguel needs to see you….” and officially, that was the beginning of everything.

The HQ was futuristic, wide and full of people. Everything was so weird that edged being ridiculous. Until, the group of spiders lead you to a dark room. Full of technology and chemistry stuff.

For the first time, you felt a tingle when he finally faced you; Miguel O’Hara. And to be honest, his broad and tall figure intimidated you. 

He said you were a bizarre anomaly. You were the only spider person who had been bitten between universes. Meaning that you were an accident, nobody was like you. 

Unconsciously, your own canon was building up as every day passed. So your actions were vital for everyone. 

He offered you a place in the group to keep order among universes. Suspicious, but seemed honest at the same time.

“I appreciate the offer, but I have a degree to finish. And I got enrolled for summer ballet classes….” you said, ambling towards the exit.

“No. You need to be a responsible spider girl and do what you’re expected to do,” the man said, intimidating you more as he towered you. Beside getting lost in his amazing hair, intriguing brown eyes and sharp jaw, your thoughts were running. Maybe you were being selfish. Most of the people in the room had lost a lot. You didn’t.

“You just said I’m an accident. There are no expectations from me. I can’t break canon. I’m making my own….” you dared to say, avoiding looking into his brown eyes. 

“You want to find out?” a little closer, and you would touch his chest. Besides, the tingle was back. Miguel also felt it, but he called it on you being angered by this new phase you would enter.

You knew he was going to be hard to deal with. But deep inside, you liked the feeling he had planted on your stomach.

“No…” you admitted. Slightly afraid of losing what you had. He smiled but for less than a second. 

“That’s what I thought” After that, it was history. 

________

Two months. And things were… okay.

You made a great friendship with Peter and Hobie. Something inside you was stopping you from trusting Gwen at all.

Then, Jessica was good but slightly challenging. Even Pavitr was good.

And then, it was Miguel. 

Fucking Miguel O’Hara. He was dead serious every time. Still, you refused to show he could intimidate you.

Like right now, or… at that moment, whatever. 

“He’s going to kill you…” Lyla whispered, moving in circles around you.

“He won’t if someone no va de chismosa,” she frowned.

“He’s going to kill us both, y/n,” she almost yelled. Following you to the briefing of a new case.

“He can’t kill you, Lyla. Be serious…” you stated, shrugging.

“I don’t want to know…” 

“Me neither. So just shush….” The room was almost empty. Only Peter, Hobie, and Jessica were inside.

The sound of the door captured everyone’s attention. Miguel sighed. After that, he stopped talking.

“You’re late….” Of course, he would remark on your irresponsibility.

“Traffic on Venice. What can I say, handsome?” he rolled his eyes and indicated you sit down. 

Earth-238, neon venom, evacuated civilians, blah blah blah. The mission would be easy, and you’d be leaving the room.

“not you, y/n….” Miguel’s voice caught you off guard. When you turned around, Lyla was still whispering to him.

“Bitch…” you whispered.

“Hey, I’ll wait for you,” Hobie said, indicating that he would wait outside the room. 

You nodded at him, smiling as he left.

“Why did you send the evidence of last week’s mission to Jessica instead of me?” He asked, arms crossed. 

“She’s also my boss,” you admitted, avoiding his judgemental brows and gaze.

“I’m in charge. She’s second in command. So?…” you pinched your nose, anxiety creeping over.

“I-…” It was useless; you had to be honest.

“Because uh-, I didn’t want you to see the anomaly recording” he was right. He knew you would be afraid of his reaction. Something inside switched to be softer. 

“I almost killed that girl. It was an accident, but… I can’t control this new ability. And I want to do a good job” Your anxiety was evident. Miguel had to suppress a smile.

“You have a big responsibility on your shoulders. The power to retain or doom canon” a lecture was coming. And you wished he wore his mask because you could see his whole features. Making it prone to capture any negativity from him. 

“And that’s why you must be on missions with me, not Jessica. I’m training you, not her” To be honest, you were surprised. 

“You make me nervous all the time. I’m afraid I’ll make something stupid on any of these days, and you’ll send me home” He kind of chuckled, and it made you beyond surprised.

“I thought you were working on the English degree and summer ballet classes.” 

“You remember it?” Could your heart beat any faster?. His eyes were deep-fixed on yours, and it was killing you in a good way.

“Madre mía, stop giving me that look. I’m gonna piss myself off from nervousness.”

“Don’t be that of a perfectionist. You’re doing good, kid” The pat on your shoulder made you explode.

Right there, you knew it was over. You had a crush on Miguel O’Hara.

____________________

Was it possible to see everything in pink shades and heart sprinkles? That’s how you were looking at every universe. You were starting your lover era.

“PETER! PETER!” You yelled, running towards the man, heading out of the cafeteria. Most spider people on the headquarters looked at you, but you didn’t care.

“Woah, calm down, girl,” he said with a smile.

“I need to tell you something” he couldn’t describe your excitement but happily took your hand when you pushed him inside an empty conference room.

“I have a crush on Miguel,” you said with an evident blush.

“YOU WHAT?” He asked yelling.

“I know, I know. But… he’s so sweet to me. He said I shouldn’t be nervous about him and that I was doing good. He remembers my career and that I’m doing ballet classes. Oh, and today he opened the door for me TWICE!” You explain excited, pinching your suit, in pearl and iridescent tones with a sparkly spider resting on your chest. 

“This is insane. Are you insane, y/n?. We’re talking about Miguel. Our grumpy and snarky boss that gets stressed over the tiniest detail and doesn’t know how to smile” You nodded, rolling your eyes.

“It’s not like he’s the love of my life or destiny, Peter. It’s just a crush….” you tried to convince yourself.

“No, no, no. I disapprove of this. Isn’t he a little older for you?” You sighed.

“Oh, c’mon. MJ is younger than you, Mr. No age gap”

“This is serious, y/n. I’ve known Miguel for a long time. You know what happened to him. I don’t think he’s emotionally ready for this” he was right. But you were confident that this crush wouldn’t be a big issue.

“I know. The least I want to do is hurt him. But once again, it’s just a crush, Peter,” you started coming out of the room. And, like a big coincidence, Miguel was walking through the hallway with Lyla talking to him. 

“Hey, is it okay if I go to your office at lunchtime?” you asked the broad man once he was walking near you. He had his mask, that if you stared too long, it was a severe and scary gaze, but he nodded once. Neither you nor Peter noticed Miguel was actually looking at you. Causing him to feel a weird pricking.

“Sure,” with that, he left with the female IA giving you a bad look.

“What?” Peter asked in disbelief once again.

“See? Nothing to worry about, love,” you said,

_____________

“Don’t be so late, mija. There’s no crime tonight for you to take that long,” your grandma told you from the kitchen. You entered the room being greeted by the smell of mole and ponche.

“With this food waiting for me. Yeah, sure, the city can rest a night without me, abuelita,” she giggled as you kissed her cheek. 

“I’m just going for a stretch. And maybe a flan for dinner” Your favorite part of the day was starting. So happily, you left the house. AirPods on with your favorite music blasting through them, and it felt like heaven.

Swinging from palm to buildings and watching the crowds of the traffic of LA. Until you were in the Fashion District Downtown. You stopped at your favorite rooftop to see the last minutes of the West Coast sunset. 

And it was beautiful. Orange, pink, yellow, purple, blue, and black. Like a firework evaporated in the sky. 

The air feels perfect for taking a long breath, and you feel thankful for having a good day.

“Hey..” you nearly fell from the building, but a well-known bright red web caught you in time. 

When you turned around, you had Miguel watching you.

“Miguel?. What are you doing here?” The surprise and shock were eating you alive. Maybe an emergency happened, or he exiled you from the Spider Society. Who knows?

“Just checking on you…” lately, he had been more close to you. Giving you a hand on missions, being willing to have more extended conversations, and softer pieces of advice.

“Why?” You ask, arching a brow.

“Last week, you were a little slow…” he hears you giggling, and as he walks closer, he sees you hanging your toes on the edge. He sees your hair freely fly as you laugh. Cute, he thinks.

“I was on my period. We’re good now…” he thanked, wearing the mask because his cheeks were burning. 

“Don’t be silly, Miguel. It’s… normal,” you said after he stood there quietly.

“Come, seat with me…” he obeyed, establishing some distance with you, but not too much. 

Then he removed his mask, and you confirmed that his hair always looked gorgeous. 

“Your universe is interesting,” he said finally.

“We are very fixed; little surprises us. And capitalism is leading us to ruin, but yes... it's interesting” Miguel wasn’t expecting that answer but smiled. Only because you didn’t catch it.

“You are spending too much time with Hobie,” you laughed, nodding.

“Yeah, I’ll take that…” This time, you noticed his smile. And you wanted to keep the moment a little longer.

“Can we talk?” 

“We are talking, y/n…” he let out a brief chuckle again.

“No, I know, but…I’m afraid. Of hurting someone in the process of creating a disaster with all of this being an anomaly” For weeks, you tried to avoid the thoughts of insecurity. But this was a good moment because Miguel had been training you, and he was the right and worst person to talk about this. 

“And it frustrates me that I don’t understand at all what I am….” you said, covering your face, letting all the intrusive thoughts out. Because even on a good day, anxiety could sneak in.

“Being a spider person means being afraid of many things. Keep in mind that you’ll constantly worry, but it’s part of the job. You don’t sign for it; it just hits you” his words were profound. Enough to soothe some of your panics.

“I wish I could be straight to the point like you….” Miguel was urged to touch your hand or strands of hair that brushed his forearm. But he resisted, only looking at your profile. 

“No. It’s good to be honest and worry too.” 

“And you’re something bigger than an anomaly. You’re special” Maybe his tone made everything sound softer.

“Well, I don’t feel special,” you admitted. “I feel like an accident. Not meant to be here, but nothing else to do.”

“You don’t need to feel it. I just see it…” when you turned to look at him, it was his soft look that made you realize, you were falling in love with him.

As your smile grew, Miguel completely ignored any thought of fear. He was just feeling, letting his heart warm and reciprocate your smile. 

“You have to come and have dinner with my family and me,” you blurted excitedly.

“No.” 

“SI!.”

“Por Dios. No, y/n!” He said, rolling his eyes.

“They’re not annoying or nosy, I promise,” you pleaded. He knew there was no problem because they knew you were a spider girl and the Spider Society. But… Mexican families could be nosy when a girl arrived home with a man. 

“Please, as a thank you for listening to my bullshit. Por favor, ándale. Di que sí…” he couldn’t say no. He didn’t want to reject you.

“Está bien, pues….” 

He smiled again, watching you celebrate as you started balancing between buildings. Soon he followed you, happy to feel the way he was doing.

________________________

The shock on everyone’s faces only increased the more you talked.

Pavitr, Gwen, Hobie, and Peter had their mouths open.

“And then, we went to get a flan for dinner. A kid asked for a selfie with us, and it was so silly,” you narrated.

“When we arrived home, he was so sweet. Only speaking Spanish, and he told mi abuelita I was doing great in job” Peter decided it was time to cover his mouth with one hand. Soon, everyone followed, keeping the shock.

“Dad was slightly judgmental but soon changed his mind because Miguel accepted a beer from him.” 

“Oh, and we spent hours in my room” That was enough for Peter.

“WHAT?… EXCUSE ME?”

“NO, PETER!. Jesus… we spent hours in my room because I was explaining to him some of my analysis from literature classes” The color returned to his face. Nodded understanding, and everyone else laughed.

“I can’t believe this. I simply can’t…” Pavitr confessed. “Love can come in strange ways…”

“Who’s talking of love, Pavitr?” Hobie asked playfully.

“Well…” you whispered.

“What else?” Gwen almost jumped, needing to know more. You were starting to like her more.

Once again, both of you were back on a rooftop. It was almost 2:00am.

“I-, I liked this…” Miguel managed to say. Looking down at you, trying to regain his neutral and serious tone and look. But after spending hours with you, it seemed impossible.

“Me too. You were so sweet, and thank you for being so comprehensive” Your excitement didn’t match your words, not that Miguel cared. But he realized you had jumped and grabbed both of his hands. And before you pulled away, he was caressing your knuckles.

“It was nothing…” 

“Are you coming tomorrow?” He asked.

“I think I stopped being a half-time employee some time ago…” he nodded, smiling.

“True.”

Hands were still holding. And none of you wanted to break the touch.

“Till tomorrow then….” you said, sad to break the touch but happy for everything that happened that night.

And with that, you saw Miguel opening a portal, and you left. 

You accidentally dropped a notebook when you entered your room through the window. Cursing between whispers, you hoped you didn’t wake up your family.

“Te dió un beso?” your grandma asked, opening your room door. You smiled deeply.

“No. But we hold hands for a long time, abuelita.”

“Creo que lo amo….” you admitted, very afraid.

“I think he loves you too,” she said.

“NO - FUCKING - WAY!” Gwen yelled.

“Are you sure you weren’t dreaming of drunk?”

“No, Peter. I only drink in Mexico, and I had a dream of the last episode of The haunting of Hill House I watched” he snorted as if he had heard something incredible. Gwen couldn’t stop taking time to digest the information, Pavitr too, and Hobie was… being Hobie.

“Dude looks nice with her. I heard him laugh the other day,” Hobie stated. 

“Me too. And he canceled a meeting to go and train her,” Pavitr added.

“He’s, like, the last person I imagined you would say you had a date with.” 

“It wasn’t a date….” you said.

“IT WASN’T A DATE?. Girl, he had dinner with your family, listened to your boring old books for hours, and held your hands for… five or eight minutes?” 

“Okay… maybe it unconsciously turned into a date.” They all nodded. Even Mayday seemed to nod. 

“Oh, my god… Was it a date?”

_______________________

Peter sighed as he watched you laugh with Hobie. 

“… y/n is very happy. Did you two have fun last night?” He asked Miguel once he entered his office. 

“I’m not discussing this with you,” the broad man approached to say.

Peter loved you like a sister. He wanted you to be happy and safe. 

He trusted Miguel after years of knowing each other. But he wasn’t sure if you two had a bright future. 

“I don’t want to discuss this with you either.”

“So?”

“Look, she’s like Mayday’s aunt. I want her to be happy. And you too, man. But… I want you to think… Is it correct?” Miguel stopped looking at the screens. 

“We can’t lose her. And I don’t want to see another era of pain and collapse” It hit him.

What was he thinking? Letting all of his feelings take over him. He couldn’t be in love; it wasn’t meant for him. 

Your canon was unsure, delicate. And his… was doomed.

He imagined having to see you gone, and he wasn’t ready to find out. 

He wasn’t ready to go through that pain again. 

“Just think… because maybe it’s meant to be, but-“

“No. You’re right…” Miguel accepted. 

Peter grew quiet. 

“After y/n leaves tonight. Call the others, except Hobie…” 

Miguel made a decision. Losing you was going to save both of you. Or so he thought. 

_____

Weird.

The cafeteria was quiet.

Then a piece of your suit ripped off. 

And spider-cat was absent!!! 

Then, you didn’t see Miguel the day before. When you asked Lyla, she said he was swamped with his job, so you would not make him stressed. Plus, having some space after spending the night together would be great. 

“Hey!” You called Hobie when he sat next to you on a bench. He was used to visiting you in your universe. He liked the food and how the people complained about something new daily.

“Something feels weird,” he blurted, tilting his head.

“RIGHT?. I thought I was the only one” he nodded and sighed. That was also weird; Hobie never hesitated to spit the words out.

“What?”

“Yesterday. After you left, Peter called everyone except for me. It seemed weird that just as you left, he called everyone to get a lecture from Miguel,” Another weird thing. Why you and Hobie would be excluded?

“Miguel stopped wasting his time with me, But a meeting without you?” Maybe it wasn’t anything. Perhaps a simple meeting. There had been some occasions where you had not been present.

“Do you wanna go and find why?” you asked playfully. He nodded with a gentle smile.

“Hell yeah…” Both of you left in seconds.

Spending time with Spider-punk was always fun. Hobie made you remember things like; fuck it, just do it. 

And he liked spending time with you because of your honesty. 

But for the first hour, you didn’t find anyone. Even when the headquarters of the Spider Society were big, you thought it would have been easier. 

By the evening, you find yourself eating an empanada, thinking of Miguel. Accepting you started missing him. 

“Guys!…” Gwen called you and Hobie. As she walked towards you two, Hobie said something quick.

“Don’t ask anything yet…” you nodded to him. 

“We were busy getting scolded by Miguel. But there’s a new mission we need to go to. And he wants all, let’s go….” The punk man and you exchanged looks, not buying Gwen’s words.

You got too carried away, forming possible explanations for her weird behavior. Why you hadn’t seen your friends the day before?. And why you and Hobie were excluded from the last meeting?. 

You didn’t even look at Pavitr taking Hobie away. 

As soon as you entered the room, Jessica, Peter, and Miguel were inside.

“Where’s Hobie?” He asked.

“He was right here…” Gwen mumbled, looking around, making Miguel sigh tired. 

He didn't look at you for the first minutes of the debriefing. The more he ignored your presence, the more your questions emerged.

“Everyone get ready… except for y/n,” he announced with his neutral and cold face.

“Why?”

“You’re going home.”

“WHAT?” you screamed.

At the end of the day, Miguel wasn’t ready for this. But he was doing his best, even if it meant lying to you.

“Your canon is changing, constantly glitching. We can’t risk anything happening. I’m sending you home…” he explained like nothing.

“No, please. You have to stop seeing me as a danger. Look at me as your talisman, like a ghost in the multiverses. If it was something bad, it would’ve happened already” he kept looking straight at the doors, not even moving.

It hurt you that he was still unsure of you, especially after everything he said in your home.

“It’s for the best.”

“Can we talk… In private?” You whispered, taking his forearm. He slowly moved away, making you feel the pain grow.

“There’s nothing to talk about”

“Oh really?. I think we do. What about the other day?”

“It was. All this time, it was. It wasn’t a coincidence that you appeared after someone tried opening portals in your earth,” you gasped in shock.

“I did it for the Spider Society. I needed to know you were not a threat.”

“You said I was special…” he managed to hear you whisper. And it was tearing him.

“You are. But a potential danger too. Which is why I’m sending you home…” you shake your head, fighting the tears rapidly forming in your eyes.

“All of you knew about this?” You asked, looking at Peter, Gwen, and Jessica. 

The pregnant woman bowed her head while Gwen looked like she wanted to say something but couldn’t.

“We do this because we care for and want to protect you…” 

“Really? This is not what friends do. All you do is lie and lie to me!” you said with a broken voice.

“I’m sorry,” Miguel admitted looking down.

“GOD, STOP LYING” you yelled. 

“Tell me I meant nothing to you. Or admit you might be scared of the possibility of falling in love with me….”

“You meant nothing to me. It was all a lie” he broke you. You swore you heard your heart decreasing its heartbeats. 

“For one minute, I thought you… loved me back” As he stood there quietly, you started crying. 

To everyone’s shock, it was the first time they saw you crying. Gwen tried to reach you, but you stepped back, moving away from all of them.

At the same time, Pavitr and Hobie entered the room.

“Something weird happened. You might want to see this, boss,” Pavitr announced. 

“It was dope….” Hobie admitted leaning on the door frame. But stood quiet after watching you crying.

The moment turned uneasy, debating whether to go or stay with you.

“Please, let’s go, and then we’ll talk with tranquility about this,” Peter told you. Giving a look that he wasn’t happy with seeing you cry. 

Slowly, you followed them. Ignoring Miguel’s look. 

Then you thought, What was the point of following them? If they would send you home after that?.

Anger wasn’t a good feeling, but it was blinding you. All the fantastic facade they sold you of good friends. The months Miguel lied to you. He could have done it differently. But he even dared to agree to have dinner with your family. 

He held your hands and made you believe there was a chance. 

So you stopped following them and turned to the lower plant of the building.

___________

Your web was tiny, like a baby’s. It glitched a lot, but when Miguel entered with the others, he noticed the glitch was even more aggressive than ever. 

There were only two canon moments; you getting bit and joining the Spider Society. But a new one was forming. And from the shiny dot, a new line grew.

“What the hell?” Peter asked in disbelief.

The line started moving until it was connected to another: Miguel’s.

And from that connection, a new canon event was officially established.

You and Miguel were together. Dramatically holding hands and facing each other.

“Holy sh-” Gwen almost said but couldn’t finish the sentence. 

“Does this mean…” Jessica started.

“She’s part of your canon,” Peter confirmed.

Miguel was in shock; his eyes remained on what the model displayed. You were really meant for him. He hadn’t need to worry about it ending in disaster. Still, it didn’t soothe him.

“Uh-boss? Our pretty little y/n started a countdown to return home and temporarily block the entrance to her earth,” Lyla announced, appearing beside Miguel. He turned to look at her, worried. 

“What?”

“I tried stopping her, but I believe she’s growing her cosmic powers?” the day couldn’t get more complicated for Spider-Man 2099.

“Cosmic powers?” Peter asked, running when Miguel started heading towards the exit.

Lyla, crossed her arms looking at everyone starting running. She couldn’t admit it to anyone. That if your issue wasn’t fixed, something darker could happen. The AI couldn’t throw salt in Miguel’s wound.

“Jessica, send help. Lyla, stop her,” he demanded. Jessica nodded, and Lyla disappeared.

“There’s no spider with cosmic powers. But y/n was a bit between universes. So maybe she has some of them or….” 

“Peter shut up!. I just can’t lose her!” If you were Miguel’s destiny, he would do things right. And he regretted setting up all of the secret meetings and lies. 

He rushed to get to you faster than anyone. He wasn’t even sure the blocking earth thing worked. 

Maybe he was exaggerating, but he was willing to set the alarms so everyone would try to stop him. 

If he had waited a day, none of this would’ve happened. But he had understood once that things happened for a reason; canon. 

So as fast as he was running, something inside told him it was already late.

Peter and Gwen followed close to him, ready to find you prepared to leave. 

The panic finally settled when they entered the dark room, and you were already behind the colorful barrier. 

“NO!. Please, y/n” You turned to hear Miguel’s voice calling you. 

Your look was empty, but the anger was there. He kept calling for you, but you didn’t say a word. 

All of you wanted was to leave. Sleep and forget you were a spider girl. Ease the pain of your broken heart. And accept that no matter if you were the only variant of yourself in all the universes, you were meant to end up without love. 

Because when he had you face to face, you were gone. 

Confused, you appeared on a random street in Downtown LA. Your suit was ripped, your hair was a mess, and the tears didn’t seem to stop. A wave of cold air hit you, making you shiver and hug yourself. 

Feeling broken and in shock, you found yourself stepping on a broken glass bottle. Your left foot instantly started bleeding, making you fall to your knees.

That’s when you no longer held the tears; you just let all the sobs take over. 

You shouldn’t have accepted to join the Spider Society; you shouldn’t have pushed your crush for Miguel. 

I hate this. I hate this. God, I hate this…

With no more strength, you stood up. And tottering, you started walking towards home. 

It was okay; it would be okay. 

________________________

Cringe in general? Maybe… part two?

#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara angst #spiderman 2099 #atsv #peter b parker #miguel o’hara imagine #accross the spiderverse #miguel o’hara

[shadowdaddies]

Hello!!! Can I please request a Fenrys x reader fic where they realise they’re mates during the war and all that but reader and Aedion are twins so Gavriel is also obviously her father and just how they deal with the messiness of the situation but also with lots of fluff from all sides? Thank you so much 💚💚💚

I LOVE this request; it took me a minute to figure out how to make it fluffy just because Empire of Storms is so intense but this is such a cool idea; I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it💜

Reunited

Fenrys x Reader (ft. Daddy Gavriel)

Your world flipped upside down when Adarlan conquered Terrasen. Managing to escape with your brother, Aedion, the two of you formed a plan to infiltrate the Kingdom of Adarlan, developing rebel forces for when you were reunited with your cousin, Aelin.

Aedion took over as general of the Bane, filling his ranks with those who sympathized with your cause, while you worked your way up in the palace as a servant. Your duties, ranging from cleaning rooms to becoming a handmaid to the Queen, provided great intel for Aedion that allowed the Bane to stage battles. 

When Aelin returned, you aided in her rescue of Aedion, joining her and Rowan on their journey to Skull’s Bay from that point. 

It was in Rolfe’s office when your world turned upside down. You stood alongside Rowan as Aelin pitched her deal to Rolfe to join forces against Erawan. And then the door opened, revealing two males who made your heartbeat stutter for different reasons. 

You recognized your father immediately, and he you, when your tawny eyes locked with his. He stumbled forward, a gasp leaving his lips as you stared at each other. Rowan stepped protectively in front of you, one hand on your wrist as he stared down the famous Lion, the legendary member of Maeve’s cadre, Gavriel.

“Please, let me see her,” Gavriel pleaded with Rowan, his gaze struggling to meet yours around Rowan’s hulking form. 

“Rowan, it’s fine,” you whispered. You hadn’t held the same animosity towards your father as your brother, Aedion had, as you always believed he had a reason for leaving you. This was your opportunity to learn it.

Rowan turned to you, his gaze softening at the hope in your eyes. “He is blood-sworn to Maeve. He can only deny her will to an extent, and I will not let him hurt you.”

Your eyes flicked to the other male in the room, losing your balance as you stumbled backward at the look in his eyes. Fenrys watched you, awe etched on his face as he, too, moved towards you.

Rowan growled, Aelin leaping up from Rolfe’s seat where she lounged as they moved in front of you in a protective stance.

“It’s okay,” Fenrys promised, his gaze never leaving yours. “She’s my mate.” Tears formed at your eyes, the instant connection you felt towards the striking male in front of you breaking your guard down.

“Please, Row,” you tugged against his grip, desperate to meet the two males you were sure would be the most important in your life.

Rowan looked down at you, pure fae instinct in his eyes as he turned to the members of his cadre, every bit the legendary warrior as which he was known. “What are your orders from Maeve?” he demanded.

Gavriel spoke first, his voice like something from a long-lost dream, a memory from a past life that you longed for. “We were ordered to find Lorcan and kill him. If you can help us fail in finding him, we can assist you for as long as possible. Please, Rowan, Aelin, let me meet her.”

After a long, tense moment, Rowan and Aelin nodded to each other, parting ways as you now saw clearly the two males ahead of you. Your father moved towards you first, his dark tattoos in contrast to his golden hair the first thing you noticed as you rushed towards each other. He was warm, broad, muscular arms pulling you into his lithe form as you wrapped your own around him. This is home, you thought, holding back the tears as you allowed yourself to simply feel. 

Gavriel didn’t move, waiting until you reluctantly pulled away enough to look up at him. “I have so much to explain to you. So much that I wish I could take back...”

You shook your head, a small smile gracing your lips to silence him. “We will get to all of that - later. For now, I just want to know you,” you whispered, leaning up to press a kiss to your father’s cheek before turning your gaze to the male in the corner.

Breathing was difficult as you took in the extraordinary beauty of him. Blonde curls fell around bewildered, onyx eyes that locked in on you. The world spun around the two of you as his gaze held you in place. “My mate,” you whispered, moving towards him slowly, as though your feet moved of their own accord, your body drawn towards him.

Fenrys simply nodded, swallowing as his chest moved with each deep breath. A chuckle from where Rowan and Aelin stood drew the two of you from your trance, and you turned to see the amusement written on Rowan’s face. “Fen, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you so stricken,” he teased.

You turned, enjoying the blush on the handsome male’s face. Biting your lip, you dared to bring a hand to the golden-brown skin of his cheek. With a slight giggle, you joked, “it’s nice to meet you, Fenrys.” He nodded, transfixed on you.

Gavriel cleared his throat, clearly refraining from his fatherly protective instincts as he leaned backwards slightly. “I’ve never... scented a mating bond quite so strong,” he noted, lip slightly curling as his glance flicked to Rowan and Aelin. They nodded in agreement, smiling encouragingly at you as they held their hands up, covering the scent from their noses.

“A strong bond, indeed,” Fenrys spoke softly, stepping forwards towards you as his fingertip grazed your jawline. A slight shift in movement from your father drew you out of the moment, stepping back as you giggled nervously at your newfound family, and mate.

Rolfe rolled his eyes, shooing the group of you out the door as Aelin sent him a wink. “Let’s go figure this out elsewhere,” Rowan grumbled, guiding you outside. The group settled at a pub downstairs, where you sat in between Gavriel and Fenrys, a deep peace settling through you as you enjoyed the presence of two males who cared about you more than you’d ever dreamed.

Part II | Part III

#throne of glass #throne of glass x reader #throne of glass imagine #gavriel throne of glass #fenrys moonbeam #fenrys throne of glass #fenrys x reader #throne of glass fenrys #rowan whitethorn #aelin ashryver galathynius #throne of glass gavriel #gavriel x reader #gavriel tog #gavriel fluff #fenrys fluff #fenrys x reader fluff #fenrys tog #tog imagine #tog #tog series #tog x reader fluff #tog x reader #tog x you #aelin throne of glass #tog x y/n #throne of glass fanfiction #throne of glass fanfic

[gay-wh0re-slut]

Are You Mine?

rhea x reader

content: reader accidentally gets knocked out causing memory loss but rhea is there to help you remember. a cute fluffy lil fic (gonna try first person in a more diary kinda way?? i hope this makes sense and works??!?!)

One Monday Night RAW went a little too crazy. Rhea and Shayna were arguing which ended up becoming a fight. Things got out of hand and chairs were being thrown. Sitting in the front row, I got free tickets because Rhea is my hot goth buff girlfriend, anyway, one of the chairs ended up hitting me in the head. Everyone thought it was planned but it surely was not.

I was immediately out, on the floor. For the sake of television, Rhea and Shayna continued to argue but once the segment was over and the commercial came, the goth wrestler jumped out of the ring and flew to my side.

Medics ran towards me, rolled me out on a gurney and drove me to the local ER. Once the show was done, Rhea drove to the hospital and forced her way towards my bedside. She was crying and holding my hand begging and pleading for me to wake up. I had tubes and lines all over me.

“Is she okay? Will she wake up?” the australian asked the nurse.

“She had a bad hit, so she’ll be out for a while. But everything inside is looking as good,” the nurse sounded dull and tired. I was probably her fiftieth concussion that day.

“So she will wake up?”

“It looks like she will be able to. Considering how hard she was hit, she might have some memory loss, so be prepared for that,” she wrote something on my chart.

“Fuck,” Rhea growled.

The nurse jumped a bit at the muscular woman in her intense makeup and dark clothing. She was scared of her when she walked in but it wasn’t even close to the craziest thing she saw that day.

“I’ll be back later to check on her,” she placed the chart on the hook.

“Okay…Thank you,” Rhea kissed my hand and rested her head on the bed.

The nurse left and closed the curtain behind her.

You’re probably wondering how I remember all this…well I don’t. This is what was told to me and a little bit of dramatization for the story. But this next bit I do remember because it was after I woke up and I was able to recover my memory, but not at first. Don’t worry, it’ll get good.

So after a few hours, according to the doc, I finally woke up. I forced my eyes open and looked to see who was resting beside me. I tried to not freak out about this large dark woman holding my hand but I couldn’t think at all other than “Where am I ?!”

“Y/N!! You’re awake!” she kissed my hand and I immediately pulled it away but she didn’t take too much notice of it because she stood and called for the nurse, “Nurse!! Please hurry she’s awake!! Nurse!”

The nurse walked just a bit quicker than her normal gait. Followed by two more who were checking on different tubes and monitors. She shined the small light in my eyes as I squinted away from her, she checked my pulse and my breathing before spewing off some random medicines.

“Can someone please tell me where I am and why I’m here?” I sat up trying to avoid everyone touching me.

“You had a bad concussion, you were out for a good few hours. You’re at Rosendall Grace hospital,” the nurse said as if she was reciting lines from a play.

“How?” was all I could say.

“It was my fault,” the scary muscular woman said sniffling in the corner, “I was arguing with shayna and we threw a chair and it hit you, I’m so sorry baby.”

“Who’s Shayna and why’d you call me baby? Who are you?” I felt the side of my head that was pulsing. It felt like my brain was going to burst out.

“Don’t touch, there’s a wound there,” the nurse pulled my hand away.

“Shit,” the dark woman slammed her hand on the wall, “You lost your memory. I’m Rhea, I’m your girlfriend and have been for two years. I’m a wrestler for WWE, and Shayna is another wrestler and we were arguing on television but you were in the audience.”

The nurses that were swarming around me looked at each other as if it finally clicked in their head why she looked the way she did and why she was here with me.

“What’s WWE?”

“You’ll remember later, too much to explai-”

“Please don’t pull out your IV,” the nurse grabbed my wrist.

“I’m scared, I don’t know who she is, I’m in a random hospital with nurses that could give two shits about me. I want to leave, please!” I tried wriggle my arm out from her grip.

Rhea sits down in the chair in the corner of the room, “Please just listen to them for right now and you’ll be out sooner. Fighting them won’t help,” she sighed putting her head in her hands.

“Fine,” I huffed crossing my arms refusing them from touching me more.

“Please, we need to fix it,” the nurse held out her hand.

If looks could kill, she’d be long gone by now with the daggers I was shooting at her. She didn’t budge. So I so dramatically give her my hand.

“Thank you,” she snipped, “this is medicine that will help with the pain… morphine,” she shot a look to the australian, as if she was making sure she knew what was going to happen. “You should get your memories back within the night,” she looked back at me giving a fake smile. Taking a big sigh and checking the medicine bag hanging near me, “try to jog her memory like talking about things she likes or about the moments leading up to the injury,” she turned towards my girlfriend before nodding her head. Who knows how long she’s been here.

“Okay, yeah… I can do that,” Rhea dragged the chair back to the side of the bed.

“We’ll be back later the check on things,” the nurse gave a nod and shut the curtain once more.

“Hey,” she tried to grab for my hand but I pulled it away.

“Don’t touch me, I don’t know who you are,” I turned away from her.

“You know me very well actually,” she sat back in the chair, “You know how much vegemite I like on my toast, you know that I love to be the little spoon, you know that I-”

“Vegemite?” I looked at her confused because what the hell is that, legitimately.

“Don’t worry about it,” she waved me away.

“And you,” I gestured frantically to her big arms and muscular stature, “like to be the little spoon?”

“Yes. Don’t start with me, princess,” she began to play into the memory loss as if I was someone she had never met before.

Unbeknownst to me, she was trying to win me back over but obviously I had no clue who this dark haired goth woman was. Did I think she was attractive? Yes but that’s not the point.

“Oh now you’re trying to flirt with me,” I said.

“I’m always flirting with you actually,” she winked.

The butterflies fluttered in my stomach and I tried my best to hide them but…

“Now how did I know that would fluster you, hm?”

“I don’t know! You’re good a flirting?!” I shrugged.

“I am, thank you,” she giggled.

“Ugh,” I huffed and crossed my arms. I remember thinking that she was so incredibly attractive and mysterious. I needed to know more about her but I had no clue where to start. We sat in silence for a good long minute before I decided to break it. “What did you say you did?”

“I’m a wrestler for WWE.”

“And what’s that?”

“It stands for World Wrestling Entertainment. My nickname is Mami, and I’m the big scary villain along with three other guys but we’ll get to them later.”

“Oh,” I really did try to process what she said but I was so far out of it that I had no clue what wrestling was. I thought that if I faked it, she would believe me.

“It’s okay if you don’t remember, you will eventually,” only then did I notice what she was wearing because she was putting everything on display by her manspreading. She noticed that I was staring pretty hard trying to take it all in, “What’re ya looking at so hard?”

“I’m not sure, to be honest. I’m trying to figure out what you’re wearing and why you’re wearing it,” I shifted in the bed.

“Oh,” she chuckled before she stood. “These are my boots,” she pointed at them as her feet turned in, “these are my fishnets,” she pulled at them with a snap, “they always gets holes in them but I think it makes me look cooler, and these are my lil booty shorts,” she pointed at them with both of her hands gesturing to her center, “this is my shirt with the group on it… that’s me,” she pointed at each of the silhouetted figures on the shirt, “that’s Dom Dom, that’s Damian and that’s Finn. They’re my boys,” she smiled.

“Hmm,” I said contently. I was really was fascinated by this woman. She was so… interesting.

She sat back down pulling the chair closer to the bed but I didn’t feel the need to shy away again. Something about her made me feel…safe.

She cleared her throat, “so do you remember anything at all?”

“Well, I know my name is (y/n) only because that’s what you said earlier, and I know I got hit in the head, and obviously I know how to talk, but other than that…” I couldn’t think of anything, nothing at all. I began to freak out a little but I tried to hide it as best I could.

“Hey, hey," she grabbed my hand, "it's okay, you'll get your memories back soon, I'm sure. Nothing to worry about, just a lil blip is all," she kissed my hand.

A shot of warmth from her voice as the kiss flew through me and calmed me almost immediately. I guess I did know her.

We sat in silence for a good moment as I studied her. Her eyes are an icy blue that almost close when she smiles wide, her teeth are perfectly white, her nose is long and skinny with a bump in the middle, it suits her. Her tattoos are dark but fit her style as if she was born with them, her calloused hands look rough but are softer than you can imagine. The way her black wavy hair falls perfectly around her face, framing it just right to accentuate her cheekbones. Her arms are muscular but you can’t tell when she’s relaxed, though I’m sure that if she flexed I’d go into cardiac arrest. I laughed at myself with that one.

“What’s so funny, love?” her voice was quiet but gentle.

The pet name didn’t phase me as much as the first one did, “just thinking.”

“Bout what?” She crossed her legs leaning on her elbow with her chin in her hand.

“How I wish I remembered who you are because I definitely think you’re my type,” I could feel my face getting red and hot.

“Oh trust me, I wish you could too because I most definitely am your type,” one of her blue eyes winked at me and the monitor started beeping faster.

She laughed as she looked at the heart rate going up, “Told ya.”

“Knock, knock,” a different nurses voice came through the curtain before she walked through, “your nurse left for the night so I’ll be taking care of you for now,” she grabbed my chart, “So how are you feeling?”

“My head isn’t throbbing anymore so that’s good, but I guess I still don’t have my memory yet.”

“It’ll come soon, but I’m glad the morphine is working,” she smiled as she put my chart back and flicked the IV bag to get rid of the bubbles, I’m not exactly sure why she did that though.

I gave her a weak smile before looking back at the dark woman beside me. She gave me another wink and the monitor beeped faster again.

“Oh! You okay?” the nurse shot me a look.

“Yeah, uh… I’m fine,” I tried to shrink myself down.

“She’s okay Doc, just trying to jog her memory,” the wrestler said.

“I see,” she giggled, “I’ll be back to check on you later. Maybe try to get some sleep, that usually helps others with their memory. Like a hard reset!” She quietly left the room, if that’s what you wanna call it.

“That’s actually a good idea, wait, when did we eat last?” my so called girlfriend asked.

“Around 5 I think?”

“What?”

“What what?”

“You remember when we ate?” She started to get excited.

“Oh… I guess I do!”

“Do you remember what you ate?”

“Uuuuhhhhhh….” I really thought hard about what food was, “Damn, no I don’t.”

“Damn,” her face dropped immediately, “I’ll get some stuff from the vending machine though, I’ll be right back, baby,” she stood and kissed my forehead.

As if someone hit me with another chair, my head pounded with memories. True Love’s Kiss really came through with this one. I remembered everything, who she was, what I ate, who I was, where we were, why we were here. I held my head as they came rushing back, “Rhea?”

“Yeah?”

“Do that again,” I pointed at my forehead.

So she did, but she didn’t notice that I said her name, which shoulda been the dead give away because I’ll be honest, I didn’t remember her name when she said it at the beginning of this whole mess.

“That’s what I thought,” I said.

“What?” she stepped back a bit.

“That I love you,” I smiled so wide my cheeks hurt.

“You do?! You remember?!” She was almost jumping she was so excited. “So who am I? What do I do?”

“You’re Rhea Ripley of the Judgment Day, you wrestle for WWE and most importantly you’re my girlfriend,” I shook my legs with excitement.

“Yes! Yes!!” She bent down and kissed my lips holding my face, “What else?!” she didn’t let go of my face though.

“We had burgers for dinner with the boys, Dom, Finn, and Damian. You had a match against Shayna that ended with me getting hit with the chair,” I laughed it off.

“YES!!” she kissed me once more, “NURSE! She remembered! Nurse!!!”

She came running in, “YAY!!” she was much more enthusiastic than the other one, “That’s exciting news!! Oh I love hearing about things like this, it’s so cool how the brain works,” she laughed. “I’ll get the doc to come check on you once more to see of you can be discharged. Be right back!” as she slipped out.

“I love you, I love you, I love you!!” Rhea kissed all over my face and down my neck finishing with a long kiss on my lips.

“I love you too…Mami,” I giggled.

“I can’t wait to get you out of here,” she snarled playfully.

“Me either.”

#rhea ripley #wwe #rhea ripley x reader #head trauma #memory loss #i thought this was a fun idea so i had to do it #please like it

[abibliophobiaa]

talking in your sleep

chapter one - burnin’ for you

- eddie munson x afab!reader; 80s summer camp slasher au.

masterlist

🏕️🛶

warnings: (20k words) overall this fic will be dark in tone, though this chapter is mostly light and fluffy; r has a father for the sake of a future conflict, though they are not named; thriller; possession; alcohol and recreational marijuana use; allusions to sex; oral (f receiving); allusion to oral (m receiving); 18+, minors dni.

additionally— while this is technically an au, the upside down does exist here. the original core st crew has experienced the events of seasons 1-3, but in a different capacity that will become clear through the narrative. also a loose loose loose adaption of s4 with a slasher flair

🏕️🛶

There are rumors that Hawkins is cursed. 

That there’s a gateway to hell in the town’s epicenter—paved by the blood of innocents. 

That there’s a whole world roaming beneath, teeming with monsters who have gaping maws full of endless rows of teeth that walk on twos and fours, screeching bats, and swirling shadow beasts. 

But they’re rumors all the same. 

Hushes in hallways, within the four walls of homes, by conspiracy theorists trying to strike up their next controversial story. 

Stories told around campfires to wide eyed children, fear struck grave and true behind their gazes, or by those wishing to warn others to stay away, to reconsider coming—to turn back while they still have time. 

Those same rumors fueled by the terrible murder of the Creel family, a haunting story of a girl who disappeared and was never found again, the impossibility of the zombie boy who was gone from this world one day and alive the next, the devastating fire that burned down the Starcourt Mall and took the lives of many. 

Tragedies. All of them. Twisted to fit a narrative. Because Hawkins is safe. Inconspicuous. Boring. 

Nothing strange happens there. 

Nothing, that is, until the summer of 1986. 

 ——

 “Hello campers,” you call out through the megaphone. “Welcome to Camp Firefly for the summer season of 1986. Dustin—please stop pulling on Max’s hair. Max, don’t kick Mike in the shins! Oh, Juliet, honey, please don’t eat the gl—”

The megaphone is snatched from your fingers by none other than Steve Harrington. All long limbs and debonair stature. Dark hair gleams in the sunlight, broad shoulders shifting as he raises the megaphone to his lips and shouts, “Okay, listen up shitheads. Unpacking starts now. In one hour, we’ll be meeting in the mess hall for our welcome dinner. Be there or be square.”

You open your mouth to argue, to yell at him for breaking up your speech, but a pair of arms winds around your waist. Eddie’s form thumps into yours, his tall and gangly body having just rushed out of his parked van to hastily barrel into you. Four weeks; you’d gone four weeks without seeing him, and it had felt like years. Sighing, you lean into his embrace. Steve shakes his head beside the both of you, continuing on with the welcoming speech for the rest of the campers who are paying attention. 

You, on the other hand, find yourself preoccupied with the boy insistent upon sliding his palms into the back pockets of your shorts, pulling you flush against him until your noses brush.

A giggle rises from your throat, your face warming. “Eddie,” you gasp out when a hand squeezes on your flesh. There’s a thwack of your hand against his shoulders, arms loosely around his neck, though there’s no true anger to be found there. Only the prickling nervous anticipation over being seen. You drop down into a hushed whisper, “Not in front of the kids!”

“I’ll have you know, my campers know cooties are real. I’d like to think I’m a great teacher.” His forehead presses insistently into yours, breath warm against your bottom lip. He’s so close now you can smell the mint on his tongue, masking the hint of the cigarette he likely smoked minutes ago beneath. “But I myself happen to be up to date on my cootie shots…”

Another thwack to his abdomen this time, but all it does is have him closing the space between you, ignoring the overly exaggerated gagging sounds of his friend Steve to your left. It’s a long, drawn out press of your lips. Weeks of yearning and wishes, pent up desire, pouring out into the spaces between you. A hum spills from you, unwarranted and yet welcomed by Eddie’s firmer embrace. 

Those arms around you that drag you close pull you in tighter, insistent on keeping you near. A part of you wants to remain there. Forever, if he would allow it. But you have too much to do. Between welcoming the returning campers, assisting new campers, and making sure all the counselors are in position for their job duties, your schedule is packed. 

Full to the brim in your father’s absence. 

“As much as I would absolutely love to spend the afternoon doing this, I need to get to work,” you say, sighing breathlessly as your boyfriend separates from you. His nose nudges your cheek, palms brushing along the curve of your jaw. You kiss him once more, grinning. Lowering your voice so no one else can hear, you add, “Meet me in my cabin in fifteen minutes.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, sweetheart,” he says, pressing a final, lingering kiss to your lips, bowing at the waist. He backs away slowly, finger dragging a slow ‘x’ across his heart. You practically glow with it, heart thundering away behind your ribcage.  

Steve wrinkles his nose beside you and you tip your head to the sky, ignoring him. Eddie’s form is already retreating to your cabin, broad back swathed in a dark tee shifting as he moves throughout the gaggle of children rushing around him like the parting of the sea. 

All around you children giggle. Cars and buses alike weave in and out of the makeshift gravel parking lot. Parents press kisses to their babies' brows and wish their little ones a wonderful month of excitement to come. Wistful gazes meet yours in passing. Friends reunite after months without, hands curling around hands, skipping back to their prospective bunk beds. Girls with friendship bracelets bleached by the sun and time, and boys with their fake swords made of sticks they retrieved in the woods rush along, sights set on their unknown destinations. Your nostrils are filled with the smell of sunblock and the food cooking in the mess hall, the lingering remnants of your boyfriend’s cheap cologne, and the perfume you’d dabbed onto your pulse points earlier that morning for the curly headed metalhead. 

You smile to yourself, letting the summer sun warm your cheeks, and think, It’s going to be a good summer.

 ——

 A fan blows in the distance, but it does little to lower the heat in the room. Does little to chill your sweat slick skin, shirt long pushed high on your chest, moisture pooling in the hollow of your throat, along the dip between your breasts. Your thighs lay splayed out around a narrow pair of hips resting against where you crave him most, fingers dragging lines along the slope of his stomach, the trail of hair leading to the part of him seeking your attention, straining through the sun-faded pair of green shorts adorning his legs, lightened from years of use. 

“Missed you,” Eddie drawls, lips gliding along the soft of your stomach.

Shivers ripple in their wake, toes curling within the tube socks around your calves, lined with that glaring green stripe that mirrors the green accents on your white Camp Firefly shirt. You rip your hand from his abdomen and curl your fingers around his bicep, gasping into open air as he tugs the cup of your bra down and his tongue lathes over a sensitive nipple.

Somewhere against your thigh you can feel him hot and hard and ready—eager and insistent. The wooden beams of the cabin above you blur around the edges as fingers dip down into the waistband of your shorts, teasing at the slickness he finds there. 

“E-Ed,” you rasp, clutching tighter, fingernails digging crescents into his skin at the softest prodding of his middle finger against your center. “Mmm—more.”

That finger dips into the well of slick pooling. Swirls around and around until you’re writhing beneath him, chest rising and falling against his as he leans over to hover above your form, watching the utter bliss sliding over your features. 

“Sweetheart,” he says lowly, voice seemingly dropping an octave. His mouth roams over the curve of your hip bone, nipping at delicate flesh until your stomach clenches and you yelp. “Pretty sure you’re not in uniform.”

He’s right. You’re meant to be wearing the standard white shirt with green lettering or ‘Camp Firefly’ across the front and that silly pair of matching green shorts. But you hadn’t had a chance to change your shorts before the kids started pouring in—before Eddie managed to get you alone. 

He tuts, and with his other hand, Eddie slowly works the button on your jean shorts free, the zipper following suit. The denim brushes along your thighs as he lowers them down your legs, tossing them into the far corner of the room, toying with lace, wet with your want. 

“New?” he murmurs, dipping his middle finger inside you, dragging it in a slow circle that has you clutching at the bed sheets beneath you. At your nod, he grins. “Is this all for me, sweetheart? Should go away on tour more often.”

Eddie’s careful as always as he slides down further toward the foot of the bed, shorts and shirt rumpling. A shudder of breath passes from you as he hikes both your thighs over his shoulders, the balls of your feet resting against the span of his back, as those fingers of his palm at the dough of your thigh. Warm breath skitters across your bare skin, replaced by his mouth a moment later. Warm presses that start at your ankle, dragging up up and up until you’re whimpering, pleading, begging for him without coherent words. Words fail you when he’s like this, intent and amorous, wanting nothing more than to draw out your pleasure, bring you to a peak, have you gasping beneath him in your release, holding you close as you float back to earth with him. 

“Please don’t. Missed you too much,” you nearly beg, eyes rolling back into your skull as he tugs the flimsy fabric aside, nearly ripping it in his haste, and parts you with his tongue. Every other word, every statement, the thoughts you might have shared—they all flutter away into the wind, replaced only by this mouth, these fingers, and this man. “Missed you too much. Oh gosh, just like that, please don’t stop Eddie—”

His answer is the curling of his fingers within you. The blinding white light that dances behind your closed eyes as he licks and teases at your center, coaxing you further along that invisible peak. It burns within your gut, a spark fanned into flame, holding bright into a steady inferno, ready to burst behind your eyelids when a knock sounds at the door, shaking you both from your fantastical reverie. 

Head rolling back into your pillow with a groan, you cry out forcibly, “Who is it?”

“Chrissy…your roommate.” It’s a hesitant voice that greets you. Soft and quiet, but impossibly sweet. The groan that threatens to spill from your lips is swallowed immediately. 

“I totally forgot…” you whisper to Eddie, referring to the girl standing at your doorstep. 

In all your years past, you shared with your father. Now, as the manager for the summer, and Chrissy being the newest addition to camp, you had specifically set her up in your cabin so she could gain a grip on things swiftly in her first summer here at Camp Firefly. Head slumping back against your pillow, you dress in haste, brushing your fingers against your hair and under your eyes to make sure you look presentable, and then walk over to the front door.��

Eddie clears his throat. “Should I head out?” 

You huff a sad sigh, not wanting to see him go. Not after you just got him back. “Rain check?” At his nod, you rush back across the room and press a lingering kiss against his lips. “I’m so happy you’re here. With me.” 

“Me too,” he practically purrs, curling a finger in your belt loop, dropping a final kiss at the center of your forehead. Skin warms under his touch. “Now go—Chrissy’s waiting.” 

There’s a swift crack of his palm against your ass that has you throbbing down to your core, a mock gasp rounding your lips as you turn your head over your shoulder to playfully admonish him. But without the capabilities of doing anything about it, you instead open the door to reveal your beautiful new roommate. 

To say you don’t know Chrissy Cunningham is a lie. Point blank. Everyone at Hawkins High knows her. Recently graduated, incredibly smart, overachiever, and class president. Girlfriend to Jason Carver, and captain of the cheerleading squad. Basically, high school royalty. She’s perfection in a dainty blonde package, with her whimsical laughter and bright eyes, and you can’t help but smile as she pulls you into a hug and excitedly bounces on the balls of her feet. 

It reminds you of your first summer here as a camper. Wide-eyed wonder, with all the hope in the world to go along with it, taking in all the sights, the people, the things. Years later, Camp Firefly still holds that incomparable charm. But it’s different now; especially as a counselor, in charge of making sure all these children have fun, are fed, enriched, and remain alive for the four weeks they’re in your care. 

Though you don’t press them about it, Chrissy and Eddie are technically late. Most of the staff arrives days prior to the campers arriving to run through protocols, to ensure everyone has their proper safety training, the kayaks are checked over for damage, the craft rooms are stocked, meals are decided for the summer session, lifeguard duty is handled, and the like. But this is Eddie’s third summer, and he knows these woods by heart. Chrissy, on the other hand, is a late addition requested by her boyfriend, Jason. You’d been reluctant at first, but another sports coordinator wouldn’t be the worst thing, so you’d added her to the staff list. 

Just as she steps back, you hear the gentle glide of your cabin window shifting upward. A white Reebok covered sneaker presses up to the ledge, drawing Chrissy’s curious gaze from where she stands at your back. Chest burning, you wiggle your fingers at him, his shoulders shrugging. 

“Hey, Chrissy,” Eddie says, grinning widely. She mutters a breathless ‘hi’ back. “I don’t usually make it a habit of sneaking through this window. In case you were wondering…”

He does. 

“I’ll be out of your hair in two seconds,” he adds, boosting himself up and over the windowsill and onto the grass below. At your slowly arching brow, he laughs, “I could have…used the door.”

“Could have used the door, yeah,” you agree, that increasingly familiar sticky fondness toward him bubbling up within you. “See you in the mess hall.”

He backs up as you say it, keeping his eyes on you, thumping against a tree and getting a bunch of leaves caught up in his wonderfully unruly hair. The tops of his cheeks stain red, visible in the slowly setting sun. Smitten—he’s so damn smitten, and he’ll try to hide it from everyone to keep up that metalhead slash dungeon master persona, but he’s absolutely terrible at it and you love it. 

“Bye, Eddie!” Chrissy says gleefully, just as Eddie starts to wave and brush at the leaves poking out haphazardly from dark curls. 

Grinning, you waltz over to the bedroom window, leaning your head out to look at your summer boy turned all year boy. 

“Bye, Eddie,” you drawl a little teasingly, affection dripping from you, sliding the wooden frame shut. 

He pouts and you wave, quick to once more mouth ‘rain check.’ Then, with his form finally retreating to his assigned cabin for the summer, you whirl around to face Chrissy. 

“Okay! Sorry about all of that. I’m the…well, I’m your manager this season. Fred Benson will be your assistant manager, should you need me and not be able to find me at any point. Welcome, we’re so happy to have you here. Now how about we get started on a tour of Camp Firefly?” 

 ——

 Camp Firefly sits on the outskirts of Hawkins. An outdoor oasis nestled deep within the woods, about an hour and a half from the rest of civilization, and home to many campers when the summer season arrives. Stomping grounds of the counselors who roam their wooden cabins, teaching, mentoring and playing with their bright faced youths. 

The sun sits, bright and golden, over the endless sea of emerald green trees. The barest hint of wildflowers and the lake water down the hill hits your nostrils, blown in by the two fans set up around the room to cool the humid summer air. Vaguely, you hear the cicadas bursting into life, the birdsong filtering through the trees kissing heaven, the rush of water in the distance. Beneath it all is the chatter of children, some of the earliest arrivals likely already pestering their counselors about the many activities they’ll be wanting to do, though the first event is always the welcome dinner in the mess hall. 

Gesturing for Chrissy to follow, you usher her out the front door and peer out over the front porch, extending your arms to show her the view from just outside your shared bedroom window. Through the lush foliage just outside your bedroom window, you can see the grassy hill, the sparkling blue water down further below, a long wooden dock that’s also home to a storage cabin full of water sports. Kayaks already bob in the water, their bright colors sparking joy. Vibrant yellows, greens, reds and blues—awaiting their eager pilots. The water gleams a gorgeous azure blue, reflecting a cloudless sky above. 

Your favorite part of every morning is seeing the kids. All their bright smiles, their shoes kicking dirt up as they skip, run, walk and mill about. Those first day jitters remind you of being a younger girl, still a camper, freshly out of school for the session with summer break standing before you and a summer of endless opportunity ahead. You recall your favorite counselors, the way they made you feel, how loved and special it was to spend every day playing, learning and growing. 

And now—now it’s your job. Now you’re in charge of protecting, teaching and encouraging the youth. It’s your job to make sure they never go one day without knowing just how valued, appreciated and loved they are. Seeing their smiling faces, their reception to your encouragement, the way they bloom when exposed to love? It makes all the early morning wake ups, makes every tear shed over a scraped knee or a sprained ankle, all the macaroni necklaces and family portraits, the food fights and arguments between campers, the competitions and music events worth it. 

Chrissy seems enraptured with the whole thing as you lead her down the pathway toward the fire pit in the center of camp. Her head turns everywhere you go, waving to little ones as they rush on by, introducing herself to parents, to the campers she’ll be working with for the next month. You watch her confidence spark to life, flourish, and expand with every minute that goes by beside you. Soon enough there’s that eager bounce to her step that catches your eye, the flick of her ponytail as she greets a new camper with a handshake and a cheery ‘hello,’ the way she starts repeating names of kids after they pass, if only so she can start to remember them all.

Trying. 

She’s trying, and it’s more than you could ask of her as a new addition to the roster and someone who hasn’t done this before. 

“Okay, so let’s start here,” you say, pointing to the fire pit in the center of the camp. On your far right is the ‘Welcome to Camp Firefly’ sign. Stopping in your footsteps, you wait until she’s at your side to proceed. “This is the heart of the camp. We host our campfires here. So that would mean anything from s’mores nights to scary story sessions or icebreaker games. We try to hold them for the kids once a week. Sometimes two, weather permitting. If you’re ever lost, look for the welcome sign.”

“Okay. If I’m ever lost, welcome sign.” She repeats the words slowly, head dipping. Her head whips right and left, peering out against her surroundings. “Got it. We have a lot of kids that come here, don’t we?” 

“We definitely get a good crowd. Mostly Hawkins and Christian Academy students,” you tell her, pulling out your whistle and blowing when you catch Lucas racing after Mike. “Boys! Slow the heck down. Wheeler, your shoelace is also untied! Are you trying to go to Nurse Mooney on day one?”

“Sorry!” They both cry out at the same time, heads bent low as they slow down long enough until they think they’re out of view, and then continue running as quickly as they came, both yours and Chrissy’s heads shaking in laughter. 

“So we passed our cabin, the lake. Over there is the mess hall. We’ll be meeting there at around six for the welcome dinner for the campers and counselors. It’s a good opportunity to meet some of the kids, catch up with friends, and all of that,” you tell her, pointing to the larger building. Pausing, you shift just a bit, where another wooden building looms, doors open to display a stray soccer ball and basketball here and there within. “Over there would be our gymnasium. Obviously we try to do most things outside, but on days it rains that’s our alternative. You’ll find a lot in storage for activities. Steve will show you around there. We also host dances there for the kids. We make a little pizza and ice cream party out of it. Snacks galore, all of that good stuff.” 

You lead her through the back of both buildings, coming up on a pathway that leads to a trail. “Down this trail right here are the girls and boys cabins. Kids are obviously kept separate, but you’ll find that the prank wars start almost immediately. I can always tell by all the shrieking,” you tell her, laughing to yourself at the fondness of the memories that flit through your mind, a kaleidoscope of color and splashes of joy. “Last year the kids got Eddie good. Shouted that Max had skinned her knee—he loves that kid, so he ran to see if she was okay—and he got a bucket of water tossed on him.”

“So we allow the prank wars?” 

“Yeah.” Your feet shift in the dirt. “They’re kids, they’re going to be rowdy, and we encourage it. Some of these kids have a rough go of it during the school year, and this is a sort of escape for them. It’s what I love most about Camp Firefly. Just watching them play, learn…explore. It’s really rewarding. I know it’s only four weeks, but you’ll miss these guys once they’re back on the buses and headed home with their families.”

“Makes you really appreciate the place. I, ah, know sometimes how hard people might have it at home and school, so this place probably means the world to them.” Chrissy stares up at the pathway. At the wooden cabins with their bright, colorful hammocks dancing in the wind on their porches. You wonder briefly what she’s thinking, but she only smiles softly to herself, saying, “Thanks again. For letting me work here.” 

 ——

 “Well look what the cat dragged in!” Dustin calls from beside Eddie, just as you and Chrissy finally wander into the mess hall. 

Eddie barely even has a chance to raise his hand in greeting when the curly haired brunette comes rushing forward into your awaiting arms. Another pair greets you next, long and gangly, with dark hair that definitely looks different than it did last summer. 

Will. 

“I was so excited when I saw you and El on the sign up list,” you tell him, rustling the hairs on his head. His head tips up, leaning into the weight of your hand atop. “So happy you’re all back from California. Did you get a new haircut? Maybe grow a few inches as well?” 

Will merely blushes, stepping back, shoulders brushing with Dustin’s. “Eddie said you’re manager this year,” Dustin starts, but Mike tosses a bread roll at his head and the boy is whirling on the heel and flipping his friend off. 

“Your crush is showing, dipshit,” Mike teases, voice bored and lofty. 

“Be nice,” El grumbles, waving your way. 

Chrissy shifts awkwardly at your side, taking in the numerous pairs of eyes also sitting at the table. From where you’re standing, looking over Dustin and Will’s heads, you can see Max, Lucas and his little sister Erica. All of which are bright eyed and happy to see you, practically bouncing with energy where they sit between Eddie and Steve. Some of the other counselors are at other tables, chatting with their kids and one another. Jason, Chance and Andy are rough housing in the distance with some of the older boys. And you can make out Jonathan and Argyle with Nancy and Robin at the table just beside the one Eddie and Steve sit at. 

Your heart swells over being reunited with everyone. Even if you’d seen them at school only a few weeks ago now. Tugging Chrissy to your side, you clear your throat, drawing the attention of the kids. “This is Chrissy. I’m sure some of you already knew that, but this is her first summer as a counselor.” 

Eyes all over turn to gauge the newest addition to Camp Firefly. Careful perusals, questioning stares, that all eventually melt into curiosity and hopefulness. Before long the kids are ready to bombard her with endless questions as soon as you two find spots to sit down on the mess hall benches. Asking her what it’s like on her first day at camp, if being a cheerleader is fun, what her favorite movies and colors are, what ice cream she likes, what she’d want to be if she woke up as an animal one day. Silly, simple icebreaker things. Small talk that has her loosening as time goes on, easing into a familiar banter that makes your muscles loosen, Eddie’s hand seeking your knee under the table.

“You’re doing well,” he reassures you, and you cover his palm with your own, because, as usual, he knows exactly what you need at the moment. And maybe you are—doing well, that is. It’s the first day of camp, everyone is happy, and things are running smoothly.

Releasing an exhale, you gesture for Chrissy to follow you toward the buffet line, full to the brim with various easily accessible meals. Chicken nuggets, pizza slices, macaroni and cheese, sandwiches, and the like. One thing you’ve always prided the camp in is the ability to go above and beyond making sure each camper’s needs are met—counselors, too. Together you load your plates, recounting the tour around camp, Chrissy regaling you with the names she’s already starting to learn. 

“The redhead is…Max, right?” she asks, and you nod, thinking of your favorite little redheaded youth. 

“That would be her. She’s a toughie, but she means well.” 

She’s also had a rough go as of late, though you don’t tell Chrissy that. Her step-brother, Billy, had been one of the many lost in the fire at Starcourt Mall. It had been a grave loss—all of those lives gone in an instant. It hadn’t mattered how terrible he’s been when alive, it still crushed her all the same. And with her having started high school this year, you can’t even begin to understand the hardships she’s been going through. As often as you could throughout the school year you’ve checked up on her, offered to spend time with her after class, to sit with her in the cafeteria during lunches, but she’s always pushed you aside. Brushed you off, away, out of sight. And you understand—you really do. Seeing her at camp, trying and open to the next four weeks, however, has your chest burning with hope. 

“Then there’s…Will and El. They’re step-siblings. Dustin, he’s Eddie and Steve’s friend. Erica and Lucas…siblings. And Mike.”

“You’re getting it.” You place your macaroni and cheese on your plate and toss on a bread roll, watching as Chrissy shovels a slice of pizza onto hers. “It’ll take some time. But it’s your first day. Trust me, you're doing great.”

 ——

 The welcome dinner passes as usual. Kids and counselors alike catch up and recall their memories from all the months spent apart. You prattle on with your kids and watch Eddie out of the corner of your eye as he talks with Dustin and Mike about whatever fantastical campaign he’s planning for their first DND session on the campgrounds. 

It splits your heart. Makes it swell three sizes. On your right, Chrissy and Erica are caught up in a duel. Whoever breaks first in a staring contest loses, prompted by none other than Lucas himself. Suggesting since it’s Chrissy’s first day, she’s in need of a little ‘initiation ceremony.’ 

You and Robin make light of Steve’s present dating life. Laughing when he expresses he’s not actually on the market because he’s interested in an older woman, but he won’t exactly tell you who. Although, when a certain Miss Mooney walks in, you can’t help but to notice the way his eyes catch her across the room. How he quite literally goes white as a sheet and gulps loud enough the two of you can hear him. 

And maybe your brow arches high on your forehead, and maybe he grumbles for you to mind your damn business, but Robin and you burst into giggles all the same, grinning bright for the boy with hearts quite literally dancing in his eyes for the newest nurse to work the medical cabin for the summer session. 

“Should I invite her over?” 

“Eddie, tell your girlfriend to stop—”

“My girlfriend does whatever she wants,” Eddie chuckles, leaning onto his elbows. “What are you doing now?” 

“Steve is hopelessly in love with Nurse Mooney,” you tease, wiggling your shoulders, grinning widely. 

“Who knows?” Robin bumps her shoulder against his. Steve lets out a sound that resembles a whimper and you can’t help but let out a little snort. Eddie elbows him roughly in the ribs, telling him to ‘look alive’ when Nurse Mooney walks by and settles down at a nearby table. “Maybe this will be the beginning of something beautiful?”

“Should I start singing?” you ask. 

“Summer Nights?” Robin winks, earning a loud groan. 

“On three. One, two—”

“You’re all the worst, okay?!” Steve grumbles, resting his head on the table. “I’m disowning all of you as my friends. I’m not even joking.” 

Summer is officially here. 

 ——

 The first few days of summer pass in the familiar Hawkins heat. Every morning you rise to the sound of your alarm clock and announce over the speakers it’s time for the kids to wake up. Immediately, you’re dressing and preparing yourself for the day. Bright white shirt, green lettering, green shorts. 

Chrissy rolls out of bed yawning and quiet, tiredness clinging to her form, slowly adjusting to the rigid schedule you try to maintain at Camp Firefly. Seven thirty rise, eight in the morning breakfast in the mess hall, and then groups are split into their respective activities for the day.

You merely observe on those initial days, taking in the energetic buzz that seems to linger over the air as counselor and camper alike get back into the groove of sleep away summer camp. Heat slicks your skin as you traipse through the forest floor, waving as you go. 

Steve and Chrissy teach archery one day, bows drawn back, kids lined up across a strip of targets set up far away in the distance. 

On another, you manage to pass the arts and crafts cabin, watching as Robin and Nancy cheer on campers for drawing their bright rainbows, caricatures of their families, replicas of their homes. 

One evening you stumble upon Jonathan and Argyle after a particularly eventful hike, wherein some of the kids came back with various herbs and mushrooms you weren’t exactly sure were safe and up to code. 

Another, you manage to find Eddie bent over, cheering on a little one as they strum carefully on an acoustic guitar, eliciting the proper chords he’d been trying to teach. 

At the lake, you wave and grin as campers paddle across the water in their brightly colored kayaks, cheering on their friends for making it across the way, high-fiving Jason and Andy when they happen to do something especially noteworthy. 

Your phone calls to your father are breezy. The children’s echoing laughter is a backdrop to your conversation. And he only praises you for the job well done, warming you from the inside out. 

I can do this, you think, hanging up the phone and glancing out the window to see a bunch of children running by with colorful pool floats, headed in the direction of the lake. I can actually do this.

Before long it’s the first Saturday of the summer in the mess hall. Which means the traditional food fight. The rules are simple enough. Every year, a kid is chosen from a hat, and they’re the instigator. The person who throws the first spoonful, handful, whatever they choose. But no one knows who that person is. Attack is imminent, and everyone around is a sitting duck, praying they make it out without a bowl full of mashed potato on their head (like last summer, when Erica had very excitedly tossed it right onto Steve Harrington’s perfectly coiffed hair). 

The room is quiet now. Camper and counselor alike seated at wooden tables, glancing about, trying to see who their betrayer will be. Friendship doesn’t matter on ‘Food Fight Day.’ It’s a tradition. Traditions, apparently, trump friendship. One could hear a pin drop, could cut the tension with a knife, trying to see if anyone drops their facade and gives a hint of what is to come. 

And for who. 

Across from you, there’s movement. A spoon rises from beneath the table, poised at the ready within Max’s hands. Your breath hitches as her eyes fall onto yours, spoon scooping up a helping of gravy. Stomach turning, you watch as kids snicker about the table. As Eddie nudges Steve with an elbow, pointing your way. 

“Max, please,” you start, holding up your hands in surrender, “you don’t have to do this.”

“Oh—” She releases her spoon and gravy splatters across your face. You blink once, trying to hold back your disgust and laughter. “But I do.”

After that, it’s a cacophony of joyous giggling in the hall as campters gather around the tables, hands inching closer to the endless rows of food across the tables, preparing themselves for war. Condiments, ranch, ketchups and mustards. Spaghetti noodles and pizza slices. Hamburgers and hotdog buns at the ready, drenched in whatever mystery sauce the children had soaked them in. 

There’s a moment, however brief, where the gravy drips down onto your cheek, glides down your skin, and dances along your upper lip. A moment where there’s a respite in the building of anticipation. Kids all glance around at one another, a silent conversation left to linger in the air. And then, with her spoon filled with macaroni and cheese at the ready, Erica Sinclair stands up on top of the table. 

And screams, “FOOD FIGHT!”

Battle cries echo around the mess hall, and the food fight commences. The air crackles and roars with excitement as fingers smash and push into their respective bowls, projectiles soaring through the air like torpedos and landing on their assigned targets. Casualties are in the midst, children in the way, those unsuspecting, ending up with splashes of red tomato sauce on their faces, crimson splatters like little flowers across their shirts. Lettuce flutters in the air, like confetti exploding into the atmosphere, falling down onto heads and shoulders and the floor. 

You’re running around the table with a handful of macaroni and cheese as Robin tosses a slice of cheese at the back of your head. A frisbee of yellow that lingers against your hair for a moment before falling to the ground. Dustin screams on your right, yelling he’s been hit as a spoonful of mayo hits him right in the eye, body falling to the ground into a dramatic heap. Max screams as Lucas pulls out a slingshot, shouting that he’s using an illegal weapon as he loads brussel sprouts onto the contraption and pulverizes Mike with the projectile.  

Dropping down onto your knees, you army crawl underneath the tables, avoiding oncoming ammunition and the shrieks of children as you make your way over to your target. Every year, without fail, it’s Steve “the Hair” Harrington. Doesn’t matter he wasn’t the chosen first target this year. It’s just as much of a tradition as the food fight in and of itself. And, out of the corner of your eye, you catch your comrade in food arms. Eddie crawls as well, hand covered in a ketchup, using his elbows to leverage himself across the floor. Nearly even gets hit with a potato bun from friendly fire (Argyle, who apologizes profusely when he realizes what he’s done). 

You meet with him in the center, ducking out of the way of a stray cube of cheese, shoulders bumping. “If I don’t make it,” you begin, but Eddie cuts you off. 

“You will make it, you will.” He’s shaking with laughter, covered from head to toe in a mess of various ingredients, but still as handsome as the first day you saw him at summer camp two seasons ago now. “Our target is about seven feet away. You take him from the left, and I’ll hit him from above. Do you hear me?” 

“I do.” You lean over and peck his cheek. “Also, I missed you.” 

“Eyes on the target,” he says, trying to maintain your foolish facade. His features crack, corners of his mouth twitching with his boisterous laughter. “But…I missed you too.” 

“Alright.” You nod, training your gaze ahead where Steve is currently defending himself from an onslaught of pickles. “I’m going in for the kill.” 

It happens in what feels like slow motion. It’s a perfect plan. A great one, really. One you and your friends have been plotting since before the summer season started. Get close enough, hit the target, and call it a game. But as you slide out from beneath your table and rush forward to an unsuspecting Steve Harrington, Chrissy Cunningham barrels through with a squeeze bottle of ketchup. You’re hit. Square in the chest. In your shock and distraction, Eddie fails to notice his comrade is down. Slips out from beneath his hiding space with his handful of ketchup, just as El appears holding aloft two mustard bottles.

You’ve both been caught. 

Steve saunters forward, throwing his arms up to deflect incoming projectiles, glancing down at the two of you. Eddie throws his hands up in the air in surrender, swallowing at the red streaks across your chest. Obliterated—you’ve been obliterated by the presently grinning Chrissy, her hair full of stray macaroni salad pieces, chest streaked with other unmentionable condiments and food items, a little piece of lettuce stuck in her shoelaces. 

“Well, well, well. You two really thought you were getting away with a repeat of last year. Surprising, coming from two of my best friends. But a little birdie told me what was to come, so I had time to collect some reinforcements.” He gestures to Chrissy and El, still standing before you determinedly. “Any last words?” 

You’ve prepared for this moment. Prepared for the chance you might be intercepted before you could take down the intended target. 

Eddie glances at you. You look back, head dipping. Eddie trains his eyes ahead, tipping his chin upward. “Look up, big boy.” 

Steve pauses, brows furrowing high on his forehead. “Look up?” He does, and out rushes none other than Robin and Nancy themselves, with a bucket of cold tomato sauce in hand. In his distraction, he doesn't see them coming. In his distraction, he fails to prepare himself for the two of them appearing from behind, pouring the contents over his head, drenching him from the fullness of his hair all the way down to his toes. 

Kids are shrieking in their delight all around you, but as Steve wipes eyes free of tomato sauce, you clasp your hand in Eddie’s. 

Because you know in that instant, you’ve won the war. 

 ——

 The key jangles in your pocket as the two of you stumble into the private showers. He’s everywhere. Fingers digging into your hips, lips against yours, pulling you close. Tugging you forward, craving nearness. Wanting to be close, and then even closer still. Always closer. 

As the children continue their food fight across the camp grounds, you slip into the shower facilities you know are typically vacant during the evening hours. Undisturbed, you close the door behind you, prying yourself away from Eddie’s wandering hands long enough to jimmy the sliding lock into place, grinning when the sound of metal signals peace and quiet once and for all. 

“You’re disgusting,” you chuckle, and he knows you don’t mean it. Not really. 

In a crowded room of thousands, you’d choose him every time. Even like this, with ketchup and mustard across his shirt. Mayo across his proud cheekbones. Macaroni in those dark curls you could spend the rest of your days toying with. He’s still everything you could ever hope for—and he looks at you like he thinks the same. Like even with your shirt covered in ketchup, streaks of red across your chest, the likely remnants of the cheese frisbee at the back of your head, and the rice clinging to that coagulated patch of mayo on the leg of your shorts, he would still think you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on. 

Eyes that roam over your form even now. Dark in the growing moonlight. In here, where there’s nothing but quiet. The chaos of the campers long gone, leaving you alone in the sanctuary of togetherness. Tentative feet carry you closer, hands trailing the sides of Eddie’s right arm, running over the short sleeve that covers the wyvern tattoo you know rests high along his tricep, trailing lower still down to his wrist, his hand. With trembling fingers, you grip his palm in hand and raise it up, over your hips, over your sides, curling over your breast. Gasp into his opened mouth just millimeters from yours as his fingers knead the sensitive flesh, his husky voice whispering your name into the empty vestibule. 

In here, you are merely two people, still exploring the newness of your relationship. There are no responsibilities, no children calling your name, no one there to remind you of your job duties. Here you can lean in and press your mouth to his, swallow the groan that falls from his lips as your hips press flush against his, the growl that echoes as you glide your hand over the patch of hair above his waistband, trailing lower, and then lower still where you find him half-hard in his shorts already and curl your fingers around the fullness of him. 

“You’re kind of gross yourself,” he teases against your mouth, smirking into the skin of your lips as his palm slides down around your back and cups your rear, kneading the flesh until you yelp into him. “We smell like the mess hall.” 

The words are a bucket of ice water thrown onto you. A realization that, yes, you do smell absolutely putrid. A conglomerate of more things strewn about your bodies than you can count on one hand has now had time to sit and attract the summer humidity. Lingers in the air, even as your mouth moves slowly over his, drawing those lovely sounds from him you’ll never tire of. With a reluctant sigh, you part from his embrace, taking a step back to watch as he reaches down and tugs his shirt free from his form. There’s a new tattoo across his ribs. A coiling snake that curves up his side, black and white linework immediately drawing the eye to the forefront. Curiosity beckons you forward, fingers brushing along skin, along the lines, Eddie’s dark gaze following yours. 

“Got this while you were on tour?” you ask. 

“Figured it would be a surprise,” he says, smoothing a palm over the side of your face. “Do you like it?” 

“I do.” And it’s not a lie. Not as you brush along his ribcage, grinning to yourself as he tenses and twitches under your ministrations, teeth pressing into his bottom lip to keep quiet. 

Exhaling, you take a step back and tug your shirt off, rubbing at your bicep as his chocolate brown eyes run along your silhouette. Sensing your hesitance, he whispers, “You’re beautiful, you know that, right?”

“Never hurts when you remind me.” 

“You are.” 

It continues like that. He tugs his shorts off and kicks them into the far corner. You remove yours and place them on a towel rack. His socks become a pile on the floor with yours. His boxers are thrown haphazardly, and your underwear follow the same, becoming a heap alongside your bra. The water itself is luxuriously warm. The spray coasts along your skin, warming you from head to toe. With a hum, you turn around to face away from Eddie, letting the steady stream run along your face, washing you clean. A broad pair of arms circle low around your hips, his chin tucking over your shoulder, mouth at your ear. And you linger like that, with the steady flow of water washing away the remnants of your food fight, his body warm against yours, and the rest of the world fading into the background. For a moment, time slows. There’s nothing but you and Eddie, your private oasis, and the love shared between the two of you, full to the brim, threatening to burst at the seams. 

The two of you take turns cleaning one another. He glides a bar of soap gently over your skin, and you do the same for him. Shampoo is built into a lather and rubbed into scalp, mouths meet in the middle to kiss away the sting when suds manage their way in sensitive eyes, and hearts hammer faster as the bar is tossed out of the shower curtain and mouths become fervent, needy, persistent. 

Outside, campers and counselors alike are shrieking and giggling, but inside there’s only this moment. 

This man. 

“What are you—” It’s a question broken off into a huff of breath. A gasp as your knees hit the shower floor, eyes round as they seek his face. “You don’t have t—”

“I want to.” 

And soon, your oasis becomes your own symphony. A melody only the two of you know. Kisses along his thighs. The tender presses of your mouth over the sensitive flesh of his abdomen. Nips laid into skin, utterances of his praises. Pleas of ‘like that’ and ‘good girl’ as you finally take him into your mouth. Grunts and groans. Whimpers and moans. Fingers that cradle the back of your hand, but never push. It builds, grows, bursts behind his eyes. Hits a peak, reaches a crescendo, and those final lingering notes where he lifts you back to your feet, himself boneless and tired, eyes hazy as he leans down and captures his mouth with yours. 

And you return with equal fervor, happy to please, hopeless when it comes to the man. 

But there’s a knock at the door, and you know the food fight will have been finished by now. Accept the fact you can't stay hidden away from society forever. There’s a final brush of your lips over his, and the acceptance of responsibilities, but those memories of stolen moments remain all the same. Even as you dress in tandem. Even as you slip your shorts back on, your socks, your shoes. As he shakes his wet hair out, letting the curls fall as they will, his mouth roving over your shoulders, eliciting a peal of laughter from you. Even as you scrunch your nose when he blows a raspberry into your neck, if only so you'll smile at him. 

You bite your lip and ignore Robin’s curious gaze as the two of you slip out one after the other. As Steve tuts mockingly, appraising both your forms with weary eyes. Even as you slip back into your cabin after one final lingering kiss on the front steps, Eddie’s hands cradling your face, and your arms around his shoulders. And especially as Chrissy greets you in the doorway, her own blonde hair freshly washed, an oversized hoodie falling freely over her form. You dress quickly in the bathroom, tossing your dirty clothes into a hamper and pulling on a comfortable pair of shorts and a ratty old tee shirt that has one too many holes in it. Your feet slide into a pair of slippers and you walk back into the main room. You don’t question where she’s been, nor do you tease for the bruise you spot on her collarbone. And she doesn't prod or pry over the one that must have slipped away, left to linger on your neck. 

Instead you curl onto your sides, away from one another. She kicks her socks off at the foot of her bed, and you throw your slippers into a heap on the floor. You reach over and tug on the pull cord of the lamp. The room descends into darkness. There’s only the sounds of your breathing, the hammer of your heart, and the memories of kisses in dark shower stalls, Eddie’s mouth on yours, yours on his, and hands on bodies. 

You call Chrissy’s name hesitantly into the darkness of the room. Wanting to ask her about the day. Wondering if she enjoyed it, if she was enjoying her time thus far. But you’re only met with the sound of her quiet breathing. Gentle inhalations and exhalations of your reluctant roommate. 

Tomorrow—you’ll ask her tomorrow. 

 ——

 It’s not intentional—the way it all starts that second summer you share with Eddie. 

Eddie’s loud and boisterous. Rowdy. Charismatic, frenetic, energetic. He’s different, unique, atypical. Stands outside of societal norms and has no qualms about it. Lives in the spotlight, if only to keep those nearest to him safe. 

He’s also a worker at your father’s camp. Has been for two years now as a favor to his Uncle Wayne. For years, his uncle and your father work at the same power plant when your father isn’t directing the summer program at Camp Firefly. 

Eddie and you aren’t friends. Haven’t been. He’s the kind of person you pass in the hall. Maybe you wave, maybe you give him a smile, a curt nod. But you’re most certainly not friends. And over the summer you’re often on opposite sides of the camp. Eddie usually goes to the music and arts cabin, while you remain on the lake as a lifeguard or helping around wherever else help may be needed. 

It’s that second summer something changes. Eddie’s…well, he’s always been attractive. Dark hair, dark eyes, those tattoos lining his arms. He smiles more your way, interjects in your conversations with your friends, opens up more. You start to hang out. Alone. Away from the prying eyes of your friends, talking about everything and nothing. Learning, growing, enjoying merely sharing space with one another. 

And it’s one day, while you’re both assigned cleaning duty after your father had caught the two of you smoking on camp grounds that it really starts. The two of you sit in the gymnasium, mops and brushes in hand, sweeping and disinfecting the surfaces. It reeks of sweat and dirty tube socks, like teenagers and food thrown away and forgotten in the garbage, and yet nothing prevents the way your heart thumps a little swiftly, how you’re aware of every inch of your body around him, the way he regards you as you work. 

“Thanks,” he says out of the blue, wringing out the mop, draping it in the wheeling cart. 

Your brow arches and he drops down beside you, extending a hand to you. Passing over your brush, he scrubs at a particularly dirty patch you’ve been working at for the better part of ten minutes. 

“For, uh, taking the blame.” 

As your father had marched over to where you and Eddie had sat smoking in the woods earlier, you snatched the joint from Eddie’s fingers and stamped it out quickly. Kept it tucked away, though there had been no avoiding he’d seen it. It was inevitable. His face had grown severe, brows narrowed, wondering when his ‘little girl’ had taken up the habit. And you’d shrugged, pretended it meant nothing, unaffected. As a result, both of you were banished for the afternoon to cleaning duties, making sure the place was scrubbed from top to bottom. 

A punishment that felt a little like fate, if you were honest with yourself. 

“It’s no problem—”

“I just—you didn’t have to do that,” he says, tossing the brush into the bucket on his left. Drops down onto his knees, staining the green of his shorts darker in the sudsy puddle below. “I need this job, believe it or not, and my uncle would have killed me if I fucked things up with your dad.”

“Eddie, it’s fine. I…I wanted to,” you remind him. “I like spending time with you.” 

He glances down at the floor, hair spilling about his shoulders. For a moment, your lips part, afraid you might have said too much—might have made him uncomfortable. But his ringed fingers reach across and twine loosely around yours, testing the weight of them within his fingers, gauging your reaction. Dark, chocolate brown eyes rise to yours, your palm shifting his hand to face upward within your own. Gentle touches glide over the curve of his hand, the lines and creases there, the calluses from guitar strings. 

“This okay?” you ask, finally lacing your fingers with his to linger in the gap between the two of you. 

He nods, shifting closer. Closer and closer until your knees brush. “Yeah—yeah, it’s perfect.” 

He shifts closer again, head dipping a little. You’ve kissed other people before. Small things, never serious. A game of truth or dare around the campfire only after a couple beers, after a date once or twice, but never like this. Never with a boy you’d liked for the better part of the summer. Never someone like Eddie, who made butterflies erupt in your belly, made you feel all those silly emotions in all the movies you’d seen where a guy meets a girl and they fall in love. 

This is different. Feels different. There’s a weight and importance to it. A desire to get it right. So you shift closer, soaking the bottom of your shorts, but you don’t find it in yourself to care. Not when his nose brushes your cheek, not when you can feel his breath on your bottom lip, can smell the stick of gum he’d been chewing on, can nearly taste the cinnamon you’ll find there if you do. 

“This okay?” he asks this time, bringing his right palm up to curl around your cheek, warming your skin. 

It’s brief. It’s so brief after you nod. The softest caress of his mouth along yours, a whisper of skin touching skin, before your father’s gruff voice breaks the silence with a harsh reminder from the upstairs storage room, “Doesn't sound like a lot of work is getting done in here!”

Bodies jolt apart, cheeks burning hot, hearts burning brighter. 

But it marks a newness. A beginning that builds and grows as you explore the start of ‘togetherness’ those last days of summer at Camp Firefly. It’s kissing behind the gym when no one is around and he can sneak you away, it’s Eddie helping you out and into bedroom windows after hours, spending time together tangled under the stars. 

Later, in those last weeks of summer camp, it’s exploring hands in the dark, over clothes and under. It’s quiet whispers of ‘are you sure’ and eyes that bore into your soul, his mouth inches from yours. It’s your words of consent, it’s his reciprocation. It’s giving yourselves to one another on that last day of packing up camp. Standing before one another in your now abandoned cabin you generally share with your father. Eddie’s hands rest on your hips, and yours toy with the curls brushing his shoulders. Your noses dip together, mouths mingling in the center, bodies crushing in close. His hips press into yours and you feel him hot there, unbearably so. 

And you grow eager, fingers curling in the leather of his jacket, pushing it free from his shoulders, nails raking along the skin that lingers beneath his ratty old tee shirt. You tug that free and he helps you out of your shirt. An awkward gaggle of limbs and tear stained, giggle kissed cheeks. It’s a silent perusal of eyes as you slip off layers of clothing. Your bra, his pants, your underwear, and his boxers. They become heaps in the corners of the room as you touch each other, letting fingers rove in places you’d only ventured alone within the privacy of your bedrooms. It’s sharing that newfound intimacy with another person, for the both of you. 

And yeah, Camp Firefly might have been where it all begins, but it only just starts the summer of 1985. 

 ——

 Every summer, staff rotates the weekends some of the counselors get a night off. It’s always one day where everyone can take a night to relax. That day just so happens to be the first Saturday at camp wherein you’re able to stretch your legs in front of you, donning an oversized Camp Firefly hoodie with your name stitched over your heart, sandaled feet warming by the fire. 

The orange glow crackles and dances before your eyes. Sparks jolting onto the wood below, embers dimming as quickly as they come. Warmth heats your cheeks, draws you closer to the comfortable slumber you can’t wait to take advantage of later. For now, you reach over onto your left and slide your fingers over Eddie’s. His head turns your way, dark eyes clashing with yours as those ringed fingers lace with your own, giving you a quick squeeze. 

Robin and Steve sit nearby on a pair of chairs. Heads bent low, voices quiet in the midst of a private conversation. On their left are Argyle, Jonathan and Nancy. Argyle works on rolling a couple joints as the trio chats, his head bobbing often, silky hair catching and gleaming in the moonlight. Jason and Chrissy recount tales about their kids—Jason with the ones on the lake, teaching them to kayak, showing them proper swimming form and the like; whereas Chrissy explains how her kids learned how to play soccer with Steve’s help. 

Somewhere in the distance you can hear Fred practically fretting himself half to death. Questioning how it is all of you can be spending time away, while the rest of the staff lingers behind. And Chance promptly tells him to ‘shut the fuck up,’ just as he takes a sip of his own beer. 

With a sigh, your head leans back against the fabric of your chair, the can of beer in your hand already lukewarm. You’ve barely sipped any—mind still faraway, recalling the day, making note of what worked and what didn’t that week, trying to keep up with inventory, already planning on your phone call with your father. 

Noticing your daze, Eddie’s thumb brushes along the inside of your wrist. Warm and welcoming. Soothing in a way that has your head rolling a bit, fingers wanting nothing more than to push into those dark curls and remain there, the rest of those around you falling away, leaving you alone with your favorite guy. 

“I’ll still never get over it,” Andy drawls, leaning back against his chair. Tina shifts on his lap, a beer bottle hanging loosely in her hand. You arch a brow in curiosity, and maybe a bit of warning. “The Freak and the Princess. Who would have thought?”

You tense beside Eddie, and he tips his head up to Andy. “Seriously man, get fucked.”

“Testy, testy.” At your glower, he continues, "I'm just joking with you and our Princess here.” 

The man in question rises from his chair, nearly sending Tina falling to the floor in his haste. His fist thumps down on the shoddy radio perched on a wooden stump. “Pass the Dutchie” spills out, the joyful tune breaking up the hoots of owls, the frogs bellowing in the lake, and the gentle night song of grasshoppers. His zip up jacket shifts as he moves, dark hair unkempt still from spending most of the day in the hot sun, jumping in and out of the lake. 

“I think we need to liven this party up,” he says, tipping his head back, guzzling down the rest of his beer. Tina giggles airily from her chair, hair twirling around her index finger. Andy shoots a sly grin her way, brows waggling. You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Anyway, I heard this really interesting story recently.” 

“Oh?” Chance asks, looping an arm around Fred’s shoulder, dragging him nearer to the fire and shoving him down into a chair. “Come on Benson. It’s not going to kill you to enjoy one night out—”

“Actually it’s imperative that—”

“Benson,” Jason warns. “It’s one of our only days off. Give it a rest.”

“Jason,” Chrissy sighs, nudging his shin with her shoe. “Be nice.”

“Anyone got a light handy?” Argyle calls from the other side of the fire, finally done rolling. “Enjoy, brochachos. Some good shit we got today.”

He’s referring to his and Eddie’s side business, the two having become fast friends since he moved to Hawkins only a few months ago now from California with Jonathan and the rest of the Byers family. Your father definitely doesn’t know about it, and you intend to keep it that way. 

Fred’s already been threatened if he knows what’s good for him, and if he wants a chance at a second summer as assistant manager, he’ll shut his trap and avert his eyes. The slow hesitance of him presently reaching for his beer tab and popping his can open reassures you that the breath you’re holding can release into open air, lungs expelling gratefully. 

The joints are passed around the fire, split with those wanting to participate. 

“Sweetheart?” Eddie asks, quietly so no one hears. You find you prefer it that way—the fondness of the nickname from his lips like a secret meant only for your ears.

Normally you’d say yes, having spent many nights at Lover’s Lake in the early weeks of your relationship smoking by the water, basking in the newness of your romance, talking about life and the twinkling constellations above. But at your hesitation and the soft shake of your head ‘no,’ Eddie lights his own, his thumb grazing the inside of your wrist once more. 

The group descends into a semblance of quiet, broken up by the exhales of smoke into the air, the scent swirling in your nostrils. Andy drops back down into his chair, done with his gallant twirl in a slow circle, garnering the attention of his mostly involuntary crowd. 

“Have any of you heard of…the realm that lives beneath Hawkins?” 

Your group lets out a round of frustrated sighs and groans, all of you having heard the tales told by the investigative programs, your bored neighbors. Hawkins, your gateway to hell town, harbinger of death and blah blah blah bullshit. For years, it’s been idle chatter, told by those looking for controversy. Conspiracies. 

But there are realities to every story. Newspaper articles conveying the events that happened, television programs documenting the tragedies that befall every town. Tragedies. Unfortunate circumstances that led to lives lost. And yet there are those who would dig up those graves for a sordid story. For their own entertainment. 

“Monsters that crawl on twos and fours—”

“With claws and rows and rows of teeth,” Steve finishes, rolling his eyes, sighing exasperatedly. “We’ve all heard the stories, Andy.” 

“Yeah, but what about the stories where they literally strip the flesh from a human body?” He whirls his face closer to you and Eddie and you jolt in your chair. “Rows of teeth that can skin a human. Made to be an apex predator.”

“Andy,” Nancy warns with the roll of her eyes. 

“Have you heard the story of Henry Creel, though? The guy who killed his family in 1959?” he asks. The group settles into an eerie silence, bodies shifting around the fire to attention. “Mom and sister, bodies unrecognizable. Mangled. Dad’s locked away. In Pennhurst.”

“Andy…” you cry, breath hitching at the brutality of it. 

There were stories, yes. You’d heard of the Creel family. No one ever ventured to their abandoned home in the woods. No one dared. You weren’t one to believe in those stories. They were stories, after all. Stories people have been telling for decades, meant for entertainment and to elicit terror. 

“It’s that abandoned house in these very woods,” he says, opening another beer. “They say he died too. That he’s some sort of spirit now that haunts the halls of that home. That he feeds off of grief and guilt and trauma, claiming souls for him to open the gate beneath Hawkins. For every person he kills, he gets closer to literally making Hawkins hell on earth. I'm convinced the tragedies we keep hearing about…I think they’re part of some sort of ritual of his. He’s been getting stronger all this time, just waiting for the perfect moment.” 

“Andy, that’s absurd,” Robin splutters, glancing amongst Nancy, Steve and Jonathan. Each wears a look of varying degrees of concern. Steve’s brows knit together, Jonathan shifting wearily to look at Nancy, Nancy staring off into the distance. There’s no time to dawdle on what those expressions mean as Robin opens her mouth again, prattling, “You can’t honestly believe that a dead guy is doing all of this.”

“Just give it a rest, will you, man,” Steve adds, another roll of his eyes that’s so obvious you wonder if everyone just shuts up for a moment you'll hear it. “There’s no…other dimension of monsters and no dead dude sacrificing the souls of Hawkins to open some gates.”

Andy shrugs. “You scared, Harrington.”

“Horrified,” he drawls, and you snort. At that, his lips twitch. “Now can we move on since I’m shaking like a leaf out here in my terror?” 

“Yeah, dude, pretty sure you talking about dead people is killing our high,” Argyle agrees, passing off his joint to Jonathan. 

The song shifts to “Hungry Like the Wolf” and the conversation changes as well. To lighter topics now, things that don’t make nervous jitters crawl up your spine, don’t make you want to sleep with one eye open at night. Argyle is fully transitioning into life here in Hawkins, and plans on staying for the foreseeable future. Steve and Robin are working harder than ever at Family Video, with Steve being promoted to manager since Keith was moved to another location. Nancy and Jonathan plan on signing a lease to an apartment some time later this year, and when everyone turns to you and Eddie all you can do is express that you’re both doing well. Eddie’s just gotten off of a small, local tour, you’re planning on business college in the fall to eventually help your father run the camp permanently. 

It’s not before long that the gentle hum of music, the smell of the crackling fire mixed with the weed, the tang of beer on your tongue, and the quiet conversation lures you into a warm embrace. Eyes fluttering, you cup the bottom of your jaw within your palm, elbow propped up on the fabric of your camping chair. You doze off for minutes, maybe hours, you’re uncertain, before you feel the gentle glide of Eddie’s finger along the line of your temple, the top of your cheek. A low hum spills from your lips, and you wake to find the guys pouring water on the remnants of the fire, while others pack away the snacks and alcohol. The camping chairs are loaded into their respective bags and slung over shoulders, and it’s time to head to bed, the first staff part of the summer a success. 

Forest floor crackling and rustling beneath your feet, you follow beside Chrissy while Steve, Eddie and Jonathan chat with Argyle up ahead. Nancy and Robin have locked arms with one another, bodies swaying likely from alcohol and weed still buzzing in their system and you trail to your left where Chrissy is watching them and glancing your way every so often. Her teeth worry her bottom lip, like she wants to say something, like she doesn’t know exactly what that even may be. 

“Tonight was fun,” Chrissy says, body nearly brushing yours. You reach across your chest to cup your biceps, hugging yourself. There’s a pause. A momentary hesitation that has your skin prickling with awareness. “Did you have fun?”

“I did,” you admit, allowing yourself the unfamiliar comfort of her heat against you. 

This seems to be suitable for your cabin mate, light eyes darting to yours in the moonlight, crinkling around the edges in glee. Not a friendship, not just yet, but something. An olive branch. 

“Look—I know we didn’t—”

“Watch out, it’s Henry Creel coming to steal your soul!” 

A pair of hands clutch at your shoulders, jostling you wildly in a pair of unwanted arms. The shriek that spills with you slices the air, heads turning immediately to the source. Heart hammering, you’re hardly aware of your surroundings as Steve and Eddie barrel forward, shoving Andy away from you and threatening him to never put his hands on you again. Andy hits the ground with a loud thud, Eddie’s chest rising and falling rapidly in his exertion as he stares down at him. The man on the forest floor cackles, chest shaking with the throes of his entertainment, palms already visibly torn up from where he swiftly tried to break his fall. Vaguely you recognize Fred’s worried voice, trying to ease up the tension—and failing—thin and wobbly, as though at any moment your father will burst into the clearing and banish you all to your cabins. 

Eddie whirls around to rush by your side, but Chrissy’s already tugging you into the cradle of her arms, reassuring him that she’s got you. “You guys go finish up, I’ll take her back to the cabin,” Chrissy explains, running a hand over the back of your head. Your body shakes, heart still pounding away from the suddenness of his antagonizing. “Andy, do you have to be such an asshole all the time? Grow up!” 

His reply is the wiggle of his fingers and a mocking, drawn out ‘boo’ that has Eddie nearly lunging forward again to shove him back into the ground, before Steve draws him back and reminds him he needs the job, that Andy isn’t worth it, that Eddie will meet up at your cabin later.  

 ——

 The two of you dress in silence. The wood of your shared cabin creaks from ages of wear and tear as you mill about, shifting around one another, gathering your things. You manage a pair of shorts and a long tee shirt, one of the Corroded Coffin ones Eddie had made, and settle down at the foot of your bed with a pillow pressed tight to your chest. 

Chrissy does more or less the same. Brushes her hair at the small wooden vanity in the corner, washes off the little makeup she’s worn that evening, and hurried into the bathroom to brush her teeth. Upon return you’ve found she’s slipped on a pair of silky pajama shorts and a ratty old tee with the Hawkins High logo on it from when you both were still in high school.

It’s funny to think a month ago you walked across that graduation stage. Had collected your diploma, cheered on Eddie for finally receiving his after hard work and dedication to see it come to fruition, and started the beginning of a new season in your life. Endless opportunity awaited the both of you—all of you here at the camp, really. Recent graduates, those trying to figure out their path, trying to determine what they want to do. 

It’s funny to think Chrissy and some of the others on the basketball team had always been strangers to you. Coworkers during the summer, but otherwise people you generally avoided. Ignored. Head down, eyes ahead—it always worked best that way. Your eyes travel down to the neck of your shirt where it falls down a bit around your shoulder, skin still prickling from where Andy had grabbed at you. 

Chrissy catches the movement, brows knitting together on her forehead. “I don’t know why you just sit back and let him act like that toward you. He’s an asshole.”

“He’s an employee,” you remind her, toying with the frayed edge of your shorts. A string dances beneath your fingertip; you wind it around the first indent in your skin, twirling, tugging. “I’m…my dad left me in charge, but I’m not used to this. Any of this. It’s easy for you.”

“What do you mean?” She scoots closer to the edge of her bed. 

“You’re Chrissy Cunningham. People listen to you. At school, they’d part like the Red Sea for you,” you tell her coolly, shrugging. “It’s different for people like me.”

People who walk the halls for years at school, flying under the radar. No one knows you, no one talks to you—not really, at least. You never minded it. Hadn't then, and still do not now. It might have made it easier having someone in your corner, someone to take you under their wing, push you to fly. And sure you had your friends, a small circle, but you preferred the safety in solitude. 

Then there were those like Chrissy, Jason and their friends. Those who shone in the light. Shiny, sparkly things. The kinds of people others were drawn to. Those who people naturally gravitate towards, if only for a chance under the sun. A moment in the spotlight. And you know they’re not perfect. Everyone has their own stories to tell, struggles ahead of them, trials they’ve faced. 

But in high school, in life thus far where you’re either in or you’re out based on what those around you can see and perceive on the superficial exterior alone, you’ve always been out. 

And that’s all you know. 

“Look—it doesn’t matter regardless,” Chrissy says, pinching lip between her teeth, releasing it in a frustrated huff. “Has he always been like that toward you?”

There’s always been an antagonistic relationship between the two of you. Started back in sophomore year when you’d caught him cheating off of your test in math class, and had told your teacher. After that, and a failing grade on his part, he’d been nothing but persistent in reminding you you’d been the reason he’d failed that class and needed to remain in summer school that year. 

The downside also being that you were both still campers at sleep away camp by that point, and would argue over every little competition Camp Firefly hosted. And when he’d applied to be a counselor once old enough, you’d nearly begged your dad to not hire him, but couldn’t bring yourself to explain why. 

Seemed so silly at the time. Still does. Being unable to bring yourself to just plant your feet around him and take no shit from him. 

You grimace. “Yeah.”

“I wish you would say something then. People like that keep doing that because they think it’s okay. They see that you’re not going to say anything and they take advantage of it,” she says, shifting up and off of her bed and onto yours. “I, uh…my mom is kind of like an ‘Andy’ in my life. And for a really long time I just let her…talk to me like that. But no one should berate you, make you question yourself, wonder if you’re good enough.”

Her hand rests lightly against your bare kneecap. Your eyes trail there, and hers meet yours hesitantly, but you cover the weight of her skin with your own palm and feel the corners of your lips upturn. 

“You know, you’re different than I thought you would be,” you murmur thoughtfully, eyes darting up to light ones. Her head tips to her side and you continue, “I thought you might be…scary.” 

Your eyes pinch shut in embarrassment and she bubbles with side shaking laughter. “You thought I was scary? I thought you would be the scary one.” 

“Me?” Your finger presses to your sternum. 

“You were always so involved in school, good grades, on the yearbook committee, a scholarship student for your business school. And now you’re my boss, which is pretty awesome at nineteen years old,” she tells you, shoulder bumping against yours. 

“Just for the summer,” you remind her. “My dad is still the director, just managing from home.”

“Even so. Looks like we both misjudged one another.”

She nods. “Looks like it.”

With a sigh, you shift down onto your back, not minding at all when Chrissy arranges herself comfortably at your side, her arm slung over her waist, eyes trained on the wooden ceiling. The gentle inhalations and exhalations from both of you intermingle in the humid summer air, the gentle hum of your fan blowing a backdrop alongside the chirp of crickets and bellows of bullfrogs straying from the lake. 

“Hey…” Chrissy breaks the silence, and your head turns on the pillow to look at her. “If we’re going to be cabin mates for the next month or so, I think it would be nice if we were, you know, friends.” 

“I’d like that,” you admit, and it comes easily. 

Easy like breathing, what with the way she grins at you like you’ve ignited new hope within her soul. Mouth opening to speak, you’re interrupted by the swift raps of knuckles on a door, and without even asking her to, Chrissy hops up off the bed and flounces over to the door, hair swishing as she goes. 

The door opens and you really shouldn’t be surprised to see Eddie. Eddie’s standing there in a Metallica tank top, the sides cut for a larger hole, revealing the smattering of ink across his form. Heart clenching, you rise to your feet as Chrissy opens the door further and urges him into the open space, arms circling his waist as he draws you flush against his chest. A hand rests on the nape of your neck, the other rubbing a slow circle between your shoulder blades. 

Chrissy whistles a tune unfamiliar as she makes her way back to her bed, kicking her feet up on a pillow. Feeling your cheeks warm, you step back, mindful of your company. Circling your palm in his own, you drag him onto the front step of your cabin, taking in the glow of the moonlight up above. Wings of fireflies bat around you, their glowing bulbs flickering around the lamp hanging on the porch, a moonlit song only they know. 

“I wanted to check up on you,” he says once the screen door is shut behind him, palm coming to rest on your cheek. “He’s an asshole. That whole Henry Creel bullshit.”

“I’m okay,” you promise, leaning up to press your lips to his. “Don’t wanna talk about him.” 

“Think Chrissy will let me stay tonight?” he murmurs, forehead pressing to yours. His nose slides down the bridge of yours, prods at your cheek until your lips twitch into a smile. His teeth flash with his grin at that. “There she is.” 

“You're on duty,” you remind him, though the idea is tempting. 

Summer before being Eddie’s girlfriend was one thing, your first summer as his girlfriend is another. Separation feels daunting. The craving to be near is stronger now than ever before. 

“The little gremlins can survive one night with Steve.”

“Eddie…” He buries his face against your shoulder, swaying you left to right in his arms. “Thanks for coming. But I promise I’m fine. Plus, I think I actually made a new friend tonight.”

“You and Cunningham, hmm?” 

“She’s…she’s actually really nice.” 

“I’m glad.” His head shifts, lips pressing into your neck until you wriggle and writhe in his arms, earning a chuckle out of the man. “I’ll miss you. Maybe you’ll come visit me in my dreams.”

“You’re such a sap, Munson.” Nose wrinkling, you reach up to comb at the curls tickling your cheek. “Who knew?” 

“There are exceptions to every rule.” 

You grin, heart fluttering away in your chest as he takes a step back and makes his way down the stairs leading to your cabin. There are three words that bubble on your lips, three words you’ve never shared with anyone before. And it’s fitting they form for this man, this person. 

But it’s not time. Not yet. So instead you lean your elbows onto the railing and blow him a kiss, snorting as he dramatically smacks it against his chest and falls backward into a heap on the forest floor below. 

“Go, shoo,” you tease, giggling as he rolls over and pushes himself onto all fours, shaking out his hair. 

“You wound me, sweetheart.”

Three words. 

Not now. 

“Goodnight, Ed.”

He grins. Waves. 

Three beautiful words. 

But you have all the time in the world anyway; there’s no rush. 

“Goodnight.” 

 ——

 It’s an accident that causes you to end up in Nurse Mooney’s cabin. She’s one of the newest additions to the camp. A highly educated individual, with years of nursing experience under her belt, and exceptional with the children. It’s one thing you’ve heard over and over again from the kids after every scape, fall, and tumble. There’s also the increasingly curious fact that Steve Harrington himself seems to be enamored with the woman, having been found already on more than one occasion visiting the medical cabin. 

You find yourself there presently. A hike with Jonathan and Argyle turned sour when a tree branch whipped you in the face, slicing at the sensitive flesh of your cheek. The kids had screamed, jolting on the spot when you hissed and pressed a hand to your bleeding skin, fingers pulling back soaked in scarlet red. Will had nearly passed out and Max cursed. Dustin called for Argyle, nearly blowing your eardrum in the process. And Mike and Lucas shoved you along the path back to camp, leaving El behind to help make sure her step-brother would make it back okay. 

Which is how you find yourself now, slipping into the cabin and calling out her name, only to find Steve himself sitting atop an examination table, smiling softly at the woman who presses a bandaid with numerous breakfast foods in a cartoonish style on them to his bloodied knee cap. The two whirl your way, Steve’s cheeks burning hot as you approach, while Nurse Mooney tips her head up to the sky before noticing your bloodied cheek, urging you forward with the wave of her hand. 

“What happened to you?” Steve breathes out, rushing over to tip your chin up with an index finger. “It’s not—”

“No, no. I got in a fight with a tree and it won. No need to worry Eddie,” you tell him, curling your fingers around his wrist and shoving it away gently from your face. “Seriously. Don’t worry him over this. He’s busy with the kids.”

Nurse Mooney shuffles about in the distance, setting up what you assume to be the things she’ll need to patch you up. Your eyes flicker upward to Steve’s, mirth bubbling in your gut. “Why are you here?”

“Mind your business,” he warns, voice dropping into a gravelly grumble. 

“It’s just curious.”

“She’s a good nurse.”

“I’m sure,” you tease, grinning widely. “She’s also really pretty, intelligent, talented and—”

“Shhh. Will you stop it? Next time you and Eddie want me to cover so you can canoodle in the woods I’ll just so happen to be busy.”

You pout. “No fun, Harrington.”

“You two will be having no fun if you keep it up.” He glances over his shoulder, earning a smile from the woman. “I don’t want to mess this one up, okay?”

The seriousness in his tone gives you pause. Swallowing, you nod. Steve’s love life has been a bit of an…interesting tale as of late. He chalks it up to losing his dating “mojo,” but you know Steve. Steve with his heart full of love ready to be given, an immeasurable kindness, and a tenacity that always surprises you. He’s also a wonderful friend, ‘mother’ to the children, and sacrificial for those he loves. Anyone Steve Harrington loves will be a lucky partner. The thought alone sobers you, mouth setting into a firm line. 

“Just…protect your heart, okay?” You wiggle his arm with your hand. His lips curl upward into a dopey grin. “I care about you, you know? Seeing as you’re in a semi-questionably romantic relationship with my boyfriend.” 

“Shut up,” he laughs, but there’s no malice there. “You look a mess.”

“You’re an idiot.”

But he’s grinning. A wide smile that makes your heart clench as he runs a hand down the side of your arm and waves Nurse Mooney goodbye. As soon as the screen door shuts, you’re ordered to jump up onto the examination table, wincing as Nurse Mooney leans forward to assess the damage to your cheek. She winces as you do, mouth turning downward, a soft exhale of breath falling from her softly parted lips. 

“Going to need some steri strips.” At your grimace, she continues, “It’ll need to be cleaned first. Tree really got you good, did it?” 

You laugh, but it only brings a new wave of pain to the wound. “Ouch, please don’t make me laugh.”

She works in silence. Gathering the things she needs on a rolling table, getting to work on cleaning out your wound, apologizing every time a blinding flash of pain hits. Once the wound has been washed, she pulls over a rolling chair and starts to apply the strips, brows drawn into a furrow, attention fully dedicated to your cheek. 

“So your first time working at a summer camp, huh?” 

“Yeah.”

“Are you enjoying it?” 

Her mouth twitches upward. “It’s different than what I’m used to, but I’m enjoying myself, yeah.”

“What were you doing before this?” you wonder out loud, gasping as her gloved finger accidentally brushes the sensitive flesh around your wound. 

“Sorry.” She exhales, grabbing another strip and pressing it into place. “I worked in trauma for two years.”

“So this is a lot slower?”

“Definitely. Scraped knees are a relief compared to some of the things I’ve seen at the hospital,” she admits, leaning back onto the chair and stripping her gloves off. “A walk in the park compared to car accidents, stab wounds and all of that.”

Stomach dropping, you swallow. “Well, we’re happy to have you. Now you can put bandaids on paper cuts for days on end.” You let out an uneasy laugh. 

“You’ll keep those on for ten days. Just to be safe. Shouldn’t leave a scar.”

“Thank you.” You hop off of the table, making your way over to the cabin door. “The kids love you. Everyone does…actually.”

“Glad I can be of help. And…try to keep away from low hanging branches, will you?”

“Will do.” 

 ——

 About a week after the campfire debacle, you find yourself sitting in the craft cabin with Robin and Nancy and some of the girls, fashioning friendship bracelets with colorful threads. Your fingers work meticulously, winding together the colors, bottom lip pinched between your teeth. 

Your table is presently occupied by Max Mayfield, her own eyes trained on her bracelet in front of her, though she’s been silent for some time now. Exhaling, you finish off the line you’re working on and cup the bottom of your jaw in your palm, watching as the younger girl continues with her crafting, paying you no attention. 

Outside, you can hear the gentle breeze rustling the leaves. The cicadas that sing their morning song. The laughter of children faraway on the lake. Within, you can hear Nancy praising her kids for making the “most beautiful macaroni art” and Robin exclaiming she’s never seen a more beautiful “caterpillar egg carton.” But Max remains quiet and stoic, focused on her task at hand, not uttering a word. 

“Do you think Eddie will like this?” you ask, trying to stir up conversation. 

Nimble fingers raise the red, white and black presently half made friendship bracelet in the air. Some of his favorite colors are thrown into one. Max lifts her head, eyes running over it appraisingly. Cold—though not directed at you—empty blue. She continues to work on hers. Green, blue, and white. 

“Do you ever just…feel like…” She stops herself. Screws her face into a grimace and adds a few more lines to her bracelet as you ruminate in silence. 

“Like…?”

“It sounds crazy.”

“You know you can always talk to me. Right, Max?” 

She swallows. “Do you ever just have a feeling that something bad is going to happen? I don’t know how to explain it, but I’ve been having these nightmares and I—” Another pause, her mouth setting into a firm line. 

Hesitantly, you reach across the table and slide your hand over her forearm. “You’re safe here. I can assure you that.”

“I know. I know,” she sighs, “it’s probably nothing.”

“Max, if it’s worrying you that much, do you want me to talk to your mom? Have her come pick you—”

“No. No, please don’t call my mom. Ever since Billy…and then Neil…”

You’ve heard the stories. The whispers around town by those who spewed rumor and vitriol for the game of it—for their own personal enjoyment. Had heard Neil Hargrove left her, abandoned her after his son had died, how they’d been left and moved into the trailer park. It’s how her and Eddie became so close. A brotherly figure to his “Red,” as he always affectionately calls her, even despite her grumbling that he annoys her. It’s all bark no bite, though. 

But you’ve also heard about her mom. About the hardships she’s been facing. About how Max has been struggling in school, with her relationships. It drives you up and out of your chair, shuffling to the other side of the wooden table to settle down on the bench beside her. 

“You know you can always come to me. For anything, right?” 

She nods, eyes downcast. 

“I won’t call your mom,” you promise her, hand resting against her shoulder. “But if you keep having these nightmares, or if they get worse, please tell one of us. Eddie, Steve, myself—anyone, okay?” 

“Okay,” she agrees. She waits a moment and lifts your bracelet between her fingers. “He’ll like it.”

“Think so?”

She wiggles her brows and shoulders, that fleeting grin of hers like sunshine piercing the clouds on a rainy day. “It’s coming from you, he’ll like it.”

You continue on in silence until the sun starts to set over Camp Firefly. You work on your bracelet for Eddie, and hers for Lucas (though she’ll never admit to that). It’s not until you hear the dinner bell from the mess hall that you extract yourselves from the tables, sliding away from the wooden benches with your colorful strands finally finished in hand. 

She walks ahead of you, footsteps eager, slipping into the open wooden doors and making her way over to her friends. Whereas you wander up behind the man you’ve been looking for, in quiet conversation with Dustin, and clap your hands over his eyes. Fingers curl around your wrists like bracelets, a low rumble of laughter shaking the shoulders pressing lightly against your hips. 

“Who is it?” you muse. 

“Gag me,” Mike groans, earning a harsh slap from El. 

“Hmm, I wonder. The options are so vast, you know?” 

Without another word, he’s climbing up and off the wooden bench, dragging you out of the mess hall with a quick nod in Steve’s direction. Once you’re outside, he rushes you around the back of the building and presses your back up against the wall, pinning you in place. 

“Oh, hey.” 

“Hey,” you murmur, mouth millimeters from his. 

He tastes like his usual cinnamon gum and a hint of smoke as he kisses you, lips soft and yielding beneath your own. It’s a gentle give and take, your fingers sliding beneath the fabric of his camp issued shirt, scratching along the hair disappearing beneath his green shorts. Breath fans along your lips, his body coming in closer, the fullness of high thigh between yours. 

“We can’t,” you whine, forehead dropping against his. 

“I know. I know.” 

Another kiss. Those lips drop lower, pressing to the hinge of your jaw. The curve beneath your ear, the side of your neck, until you’re giggling and squirming beneath him, clutching at the sides of his waist, panting for air. His palms glide along your hips, pausing at the strip of string hanging outside of the pocket. Curious, he snatches it free and lifts it in the air between the two of you. 

“You made this for me?” The corners of his mouth twitch gleefully. Dimple popping in his cheek. 

“No.” Your tennis shoe digs into the ground beneath you, forest floor crunching under your toes, head down, cheeks burning. 

“These are my favorite colors, though.” 

“Yeah well…uh…”

“Tie it on me,” he says abruptly, drawing your gaze to his left wrist he’s draped the bracelet over. 

“You really don’t have to wear it. It’s silly. I just spent the day in the craft cabin and I thought—” 

He smacks a kiss to your cheek, silencing you. “Please. Humor me.”

He draws you in closer with a hand circling your waist. You step into the cradle of his arms and grip the two ends of the bracelet, pulling them taut enough around his wrist where he’ll have some room, but it won’t slide off of him. Once satisfied, you fasten it and step back, admiring your work. Eddie wiggles his wrist in the air, admiring the red, white and black stitching. Eyes dart to yours. 

“I love it,” he says, swooping down to kiss you soundly. Until your lips tingle and your belly bursts to life with butterflies. “Come on. Before all the good food is gone.”

 ——

 He doesn’t know why…or really how…he ends up here. His feet crunch against gravel as he opens the door to his car, peering up at the building. 

Before him is a home. 

Set back against a driveway, stain glass windows caked in endless layers of dust. His heart pitter patters in his chest, unaware of what is to come. All he knows is there’s a sense of foreboding. A curiosity that he doesn’t wish to follow through with, and yet feels compelled all the same. 

The Creel house, where those murders heard only in newspapers happened. A family, here one moment in Hawkins and gone the next. Brutally murdered, bones broken, eyes ripped from skulls. 

Dead. 

Gone. 

Lives put to a halt. 

The voice in his mind calls his name again. Has been for some time now. Days, weeks, he’s not sure. But it’s a gentle caress in his mind all the same. A quiet whisper of ‘Andy’—a siren’s call that has him in its grasp. 

‘Andy’ as he brushes his fingers across dust dirtied shelves and bookcases in the home awash with moonlight, peering at various trinkets and once well-loved furnishings. The dust shifts and stirs around him. A halo of sparkling debris that flutters and flits around him as he peruses the interior of the home, taking in all it has to otter. Beautifully vaulted ceilings, sprawling staircases, lovely kitchen, dining room and sitting area. 

He tries to picture the home when they move in. Hopes settled on their shoulders, new keys tossed into their hands, ready to start anew as a family. Now, he stands in a barren wasteland. A place where everything comes to die. 

His feet carry him up the staircase, eyes roving the pictures on the walls, flashlight catching on the dust particles shifting as he moves. There’s a picture of what he assumes is the family hanging on the wall. A beautiful wife, doting father, a golden haired little girl, and a straight faced boy. Henry. His mind fills in the name, and now it settles on a face. Dark hair, severe blue eyes. 

He wonders how a boy, how a young boy like this, could ruin a whole family. How he could look at them, intent on killing, and follow through with it all. 

That compulsion to learn, the compulsion to simply be here, drives Andy further upward, pausing on a room. Inside he finds a wooden panel on the floor that doesn’t quite sit flush. It creaks and groans as he steps on it, edge popping upward. Curious, Andy sets his flashlight down onto the dusty floorboards and pushes up at the broken piece. Within lies a jar, covered like every other inch of this home in a thick layer of dirt and dust. Blowing out a breath, the dust swirls upward, revealing endless black widow spiders within. 

Fear chokes him. Causes him to stumble back, tossing the jar onto the bed above, clutching at his flashlight like it’s a lifeline. Shallow breaths puff in and out of his lungs. Gasps that rattle deep within. And then he sees it. The edge of a book, just above where the jar had been beneath the floorboards. A leather bound cover, smooth to the touch when he grows the nerve to pluck it out and brush along the edges, the binding. 

Etched into the corner is ‘Henry Creel.’ Crude in nature, no more than scratches in the front covering. His fingers brush along the letters, opening the first page to the doodles within. Images of spiders. Long limbs, cruel fangs, beady eyes. Smoky dark drawings, splashed with red streaks. On the next page are bunnies. Long ears, fluffy tails, wide eyes. But it’s the eyes that have his chest rising and falling faster. Eyes that should be bright and warm are crossed out with painted red x marks, slashes on a page, deep as blood. 

Gashes. 

Streaks of anger.

He swallows. Bile rises in his throat. 

He should leave the book. He knows he should. But he tucks it away in his backpack. Tucks it away to let it sit there for a rainy day as he clambers up to his feet, rushing back down the stairs from where he came, neatly stumbling on the bottom step in his haste. 

The front door beckons him forth. Glass panel gleaming in the moonlight, casting a glow along the far wall. Against the fall wall is a clock, a gorgeous grandfather clock that seems to call his name. 

Whispers to him. 

Sings to him. 

Urges him onward. 

He obeys the call, carried over by what feels like a tether, an invisible string. 

There’s a ringing in his ears. 

A probing at the base of his skull.

“Touch it…”

His fingers prickle in anticipation. Hover over the face, worn by years and broken now. 

Silenced by time. 

He hears a voice again. 

A phantom in his ear. A caress against his spine. 

A push. 

His toes brush the edge of the clock, fingers inching closer. 

Tugs the sleeve of his hoodie up around his hand and wipes the back of it across the face of the clock. Exposes the numbers and arms within. 

“What the…” His voice echoes in the home, drowned out by the beat of his heart, when the arms start to move. 

Slow, swirling circles. 

Arms that twirl around and around. Around and around and they don’t stop. 

He hears it then. 

The slow tick-tock. 

Tick-tock. 

Tick-tock. 

A clanging chime, a reverberating gong. 

Loud. 

It’s so damn loud. 

He staggers backwards, the floor shaking beneath him. 

Rattling, tearing, ripping. 

Red illuminates a crack that inches before the clock, the earth pulling at the seams. 

Opening. 

“What th—”

It’s a cry. Cut off and broken as a vine whips up and curls around his ankle. 

Tugs him. 

Drags him. 

He falls onto his stomach. Screams and claws at the ground. At the rug that betrays him, body sliding closer and closer to the rip. 

He screams for someone who never hears. Screams until the walls rattle, hands clutching for purchase on anything, nails skidding on wood. 

Begs for mercy. For death. For a savior. For the reaper. 

He screams until his throat rubs raw, until he’s pleading. 

Anything. 

A sacrifice. 

A deal with God. 

Or the devil. 

“I’ll do anything!”

And then, out of the ground, out of the opening to hell itself, a single word in a voice that sounds nothing of this world. 

The vine around his ankle slackens. 

“Andy…”

 ——

 Two weeks into camp, and everything is running smoothly. You’ve had no major issues, only minor squabbles sorted in your office between campers, and your counselors have been on their best behavior. Sure, there’s the occasional slip up here and there, but that’s to be expected. 

It’s on that second week you find yourself helping put chairs out around a campfire, a projection screen stretched wide across the lawn. All around you kids buzz with anticipation, eagerly looking on to catch a glimpse of what you’ll be playing. For the children it’s “Never Ending Story,” and for the counselors off duty for the night (being you, Chrissy, Steve, Eddie, Jason and Andy) you’ve decided on your own movie night within the gymnasium once you finish setting up for the counselors who are working that evening as a compromise. 

By popular demand it’s “Friday the 13th: The Final Chapter,” and though you hate the idea of playing a movie such as that while quite literally at a sleep away camp, there’s no arguing the decision once it’s made. 

“It’ll be fun,” your coworkers remind you when they let you know what they’ve decided on; however, you find it anything but. 

“Relax, baby,” Eddie coos, fingers curling around the widest part of your hips, tugging you close. The chair he’s holding drops with a clatter onto the forest floor, dark eyes boring into your own. “It’s a movie. It’ll be okay, I promise. And if you get really scared…well, you can always hold my hand.”

“Gonna be my knight in shining armor, huh?” you ask jovially, taking a step closer to him. “Chase away Jason for me?”

“I would run so far away from Jason with you,” he says, and you snort. “I’m not fucking with him. Are you kidding? We’re camp counselors, which makes us Jason’s prey. Our best bet is mad dashing through the woods holding hands.”

“I feel like that’s what you’re not meant to do in these movies. Look at Halloween.” 

At your pout, he continues, “The kids are going to have so much fun. It’s a night off for us. You’ve been working so hard and you deserve to relax a little bit. Want me to go grab you a bowl of M&Ms later? I’ll even take out the ones you don’t like.”

“You mean eat the ones I don’t like,” you tease, fingers sliding down his forearm, along his Wayne tattoo, newly added on the inside of his left bicep, and toy with the threads of the bracelet you made him tied around his left wrist.  

“It’s what any good boyfriend would do. Or at least I think. Haven’t really had much experience with it.”

“You’re doing great,” you reassure him, looping the thread of his bracelet around your index finger. “You kept it.”

“‘Course I did. A pretty girl made it for me. Gonna keep that forever.” His arms loop lower around your waist, edging along the lowest part of your spine, verging on slightly inappropriate with the kids coming down at any moment, but you don’t shove him away this time. 

Your breath mingles for a moment, lips inches apart, before Steve’s breaking you apart, uttering you’re on a time crunch and shouldn’t be canoodling. You don’t argue. In fact, the remainder of the setup moves swiftly. Bodies weave in and out of one another, prepping chairs and tables for snacks, as well as sticks for the campfire s’mores. As a tradition, movie nights are also party nights. Nights where the kids can have all the sugary treats they wish, and will never have to tell a soul about it. 

It’s not long before rows of chairs are set and readily available for campers and the multiple tables are full of various snacks, treats and offerings. Groups of children trickle out from their respective cabins all dressed in their comfiest clothes, some donning slippers, others with blankets tucked within their arms. Each gathers their movie snacks before choosing a seat. You, on the other hand, stand faraway in the back, watching as the kids treat each other with candor and kindness, offering open spaces to their fellow campers, eager anticipation for the movie buzzing in their sugar enhanced systems. 

“It’s a shame,” Andy says from behind you. Jolting on the spot, you whirl around, hand over your heart because you hadn’t seen him there. 

It’s a shame. 

Your mind hitches at his words, at the peculiarity of them given the tone of the evening, head shifting enough to eye him precariously through your lashes. “What is?”

He pauses. Stares off into space for a moment. Eyes on nothing in particular as Eddie works on setting up the projector with Steve, handing out hugs like they’re candies when little ones run up to thump against their thighs. A chuckle spills from him, head shaking. 

There’s a choke of breath at your side. The frantic brush of his fingers along a bicep, sweat slicking his brow. “I, ah, I’m not feeling well. Do you think I can just head to my cabin?”

You stiffen, head nodding. “Yeah, sure. Do you need to get checked out by Nurse Mooney?” 

“N-no,” he says, chest rising and falling rapidly. “I—I’ll be fine.”

Without another word, he’s rushing off toward the cabins, rubbing at the back of his neck with his head down. 

“What was that about?” Chrissy asks, appearing at your side in a pair of her camp shorts and a hoodie. She’s put french braids in her hair today, eyes bright in the moonlight. Even dressed down like this, she’s impossibly charming. 

“Has Andy been acting odd lately?” Your words are quiet. Slow. 

“Like odder than usual?” She laughs, but the look on your face has her pause. Lips turning downward, she probes, “What’s wrong?”

“He just seemed on edge all of a sudden. I mean he’s an asshole, but he’s always confident. This felt…different. He seemed nervous. Uncertain or worried about something.”

“I mean…maybe he has been? Yesterday Jason said while they were on lifeguard duty Andy just sort of stared off into space. Like he was there…but not.”

“That’s how he’d just been with me.” 

Frozen in space and time, looking out into nothingness, and then snapping into reality. What had he been looking at? 

“He’s probably just in his head about something. Or trying to sneak off with Tina again,” she says, scrunching her nose and looping her arm through yours. She hugs it tight to her body and you melt a little into her embrace. She gives a little wiggle, pulling you from your silent reverie. “Wanna go watch the movie now? Looks like the guys just finished setting up, so we can start heading to the gym. I’ll probably watch it through my fingers, though. I hate slashers.”

“Yeah,” you breathe out, still watching the space between the tree line where Andy had walked through. Can still picture the sweat on his brow, the furrow of them, the downturn of his lips that you’ve always been convinced are permanently set into a sneer. “Sure. Me too.”

 ——

 “So everything is going well?” 

“Amazingly, really,” you reassure him, glancing out of the office, capturing Chrissy’s gaze as she and Steve teach the kids proper form on archery. There’s a line of them, arms stretched back, arrows poised at the ready, waiting for Steve’s whistle to blare out. “Kids are great. Counselors are fine. No one has been seriously injured. Nothing has been destroyed—well, minus the one basketball that popped. But other than that, nothing to report here.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes,” you laugh airily, twining the phone cord around your fingertip. “I promise, dad. You just focus on getting better. How are you feeling?”

“Good,” he says gruffly, shifting where he must be laying on the couch, maybe the bed. “Femur is healing just fine, doc says.”

“I’m glad.” Your exhale is one of relief, shoulders slouching comfortably. 

“How’s my boy?” 

His boy. 

Eddie. 

You’d been worried when you first started dating. Especially after the weed mishap during one of those first few times you and Eddie had spent time together. But he’d always loved the guy, especially knowing Wayne for so long, and accepted him into the fold right away. It had been oddly seamless, and ever since he'd taken up calling Eddie ‘his boy.’ Your heart always burns with it, even now, knowing Eddie’s in the music cabin, likely strumming away on a guitar or teaching someone how to play an instrument. Knowing that Eddie’s loved by Wayne, but also by your own family. Fiercely, in a way that sometimes scares you, even. 

“He’s good,” you say softly, back pressing against the wall. “He’s really good.”

“I’m glad, honey. Never seen you light up like you do with that boy. He better be treating you right.”

“Always.” 

And it’s not a lie. Eddie’s been perfect in the past year. Ever respectful, kind, caring and affectionate. No squabbles, not even a minor tiff. Sometimes you question if that’s normal—if two people can get along so well there’s no reason for them to argue. Friends have commented it’s coming, to just wait. But you’ve yet to see it. You’ve seen him get angry, sure, but never directed at you. 

There’s a pause and a swallow on the other end, the smacking of lips after taking a gulp of whatever drink he’s likely got next to him. “Good. Good. I really miss you, hon. Just hope you know.”

“I miss you, too, dad.” There’s a crack at the end of your words, a choke around a muffled sob. Your nose wrinkles, eyes burning with unshed tears. “This was always our thing.”

“I’m not checking out just yet, baby girl. Just a surgery, and just this summer, you hear me?” At your watery laugh, he continues, “You’ll be home before you know it. Bet you grew another inch taller while you’ve been gone.”

“Dad,” you bemoan, rolling your eyes, dragging your forearm across moist lashes. “Two more weeks, and then you’ll see me every day for the rest of the summer. Bet you’ll even get sick of me.”

There’s an incredulous splutter at that. A guffaw that follows, your lips twitching upward. “Never, baby girl. Always and forever, right?” 

Always and forever. 

It’s what you have said ever since you were a little girl and mom had left. Ever since he sat you down on that couch in your old living room, spoke to you softly and gently—like one would speak to a baby doe—and explained all the reasons why it wasn’t your fault. All the reasons it would never be your fault. Ever since it had just been the two of you and dad had to learn how to be both roles in your life without any sort of warning. Ever since he tried his hardest, worked extra hours, and still managed to attend every school or extracurricular function you partook in, while also driving you around to friend’s houses, making sure you were fed and always had everything you’d ever need. Ever since you decided for the rest of your life, it was the two of you against the world. 

You’d never been left wanting for anything. 

Never gone without anything. 

Your best friend. Confidant. The first love of your life. 

Eddie might be the second; in fact, he is the second. 

But before that, it’s always been you and dad. 

Always and forever. 

Something no outside source, no distance, no circumstance could ever take away. You’d do anything for him. Make mountains move, try and part the sea, uproot heaven and hell. So you grin. And you press a hand to your heart, smiling to yourself. A secret thing, meant for him and you. Stolen away from the world. Precious. 

“Always and forever,” you promise. 

 ——

 Music blares from a shoddy speaker in the dimly lit cabin, illuminated by the sun rising through the trees, leaves swaying and shifting in the gentle breeze outside the softly parted window. The same crappy, hand-me-down, camp issued one that Andy needs to thump with the side of his fist every so often to keep the music playing. 

Most of the campers and counselors have already made their way to the mess hall for breakfast. He’s stayed behind, finishing up a morning run and not quite hungry at all. He hasn’t been in a couple days—figures it’s the giant dinner he had the night before. The cafeteria staff had made their signature baked macaroni and cheese. 

No one stops at just one bowl of that. 

He’s warm. Unbearably so. And it feels harsher than the weather outside. This tangible heat that crawls beneath his skin, skitters along like thousands of tiny spiders on his flesh—in his flesh. Fingers reach up to scratch at nothing; gouge scratches into tanned skin, darkened from hours spent sitting on the dock, watching children in the lake day in and day out. 

Ice water does the trick. If only for a moment. He gulps down his first cup and pours another, leaving the refrigerator and freezer door open, despite the fact he can hear the camp princess shouting at him from across the way if she knew what he was doing now with her father’s precious electric bill. 

Someone needs to show her a damn lesson, he thinks. 

“We can…”

The voice startles him. He whirls on the balls of his feet, neck straining toward the open closet, wondering where the voice came from. He calls out into nothingness and is greeted with silence. Long, lingering, languishing silence. 

The glass thuds into the bottom of the kitchenette sink. Shatters against the strainer at the bottom. Andy reaches forward to grasp the shards, wincing as blood pools along the inside of his thumb and index finger, gliding down the inside of his wrist. Trembling, he makes his way to the bathroom, catching the sight of himself in the mirror. 

Dark circles sink into his under eyes. Purple lines that tell a tale of a man who hasn’t slept in days. He cringes at the sight, nearly throws his fist into the glass to eradicate the image of his own self, and flips the knob on the sink. His blood spills down the drain, a fresh bandage put into place as he sits down on the toilet seat. 

Hot. 

He’s still so damn hot. Scalding. Burning. Reeling from it. Eyes dart to the bathroom shower, to the tub there. A thought surfaces, swift and unprovoked. Unprompted, and yet it feels right. The water runs, knob pushed as far as it can go into the cold setting. As it fills the tub, he walks back into the kitchenette and pulls the few ice trays from the freezer. They fall one by one into the tub, dipping below the surface momentarily, and then bobbing at the top. Tiny little blessings that chill his skin upon reaching in to touch—ease the brewing ache in his bones. 

In silence, he strips out of his clothes. Catches on the streaks of black along the inside of his elbows, the curves of his skin. Like ink or spider webs injected into his veins, staining them. He touches them in the mirror, chest rising and falling rapidly, tracing the lines. He can feel them pulse beneath, blood pumping through the darkness; part of him wonders if it’ll only spread this—if it’ll only progress whatever is spilling throughout his system. 

Nurse Mooney will know, he rationalizes, kicking his green shorts off into the corner of the bathroom. He bobs his head for a moment in front of the mirror, brushing his teeth and humming along to the song, trying to distract. 

To deflect. 

To pretend. 

The brush clatters into the cup holder, plastic skittering across the counter in his over exertion. He tosses his baseball hat onto the toilet seat, cards his fingers through his hair, strands falling in disarray about his head. Sinks down into the ice bath, expecting the familiar burn to settle in like the many times his coaches would have him do after a particularly grueling basketball game. Only this time it’s different; this time it feels like an inferno hitting water, creating steam. An instantaneous relief washes over him, eyes shutting against the yellowy lights flickering in the ceiling above. 

“Andy…”

Ice. Cold dread slides down his spine, curls around him, steals his breath. Arms press along the sides of the tub, fingers clutching the edges, knuckles straining white. He calls for Chance to no avail. Only silence greets him—silence and the taunting of the radio in the next room. 

“I will have you, yes I will have you. I will find a way, and I will have you...”

“Hello?” He cries, clutching the shower curtain, sliding it closed. As if that’ll do anything. As if it’ll protect him. His head drops against bent knees, hands on his ears. “Anyone?”

“Like a butterfly, a wild butterfly...”

“This isn’t fucking funny anymore!” 

His voice cracks. Strains. Swallows around the edges of the sob crawling up his throat. He rocks. Back and forth, back and forth, fingers digging into his ears. The chatter of his teeth is harsh enough he feels like it knocks his brain around within his skull. Eighteen. He’s fucking eighteen and he whimpers, a broken thing, a plea for his mom. The utterance of her name through his shuddering lips. Thin and tight, echoing in the four walls of the bathroom, falling on deaf ears.

It’s a prank. 

Some dumb prank one of the kids or the other counselors are playing on him. 

It has to be. 

Has to be. 

“I will collect you and capture you...”

“I’m going to kick the living shit out of you!” Andy screams. 

The radio grows silent. 

His heart pounds in his chest. 

Sweat prickles on his forehead, drips down the side of his face. 

Every inch of his body, the dark swirls on the inside of his elbows, his wrists…they seem to pulse. To elongate beneath his skin, little tendrils that ebb and flow, reaching for something. 

Reaching, reaching, reaching. 

And then. 

Like spiders crawling across his skin, a chill spreads along the back of his neck. The eerie, grating voice of that thing he heard only once before in the Creel house whispers, “Andy…”

——

——

If you made it all the way here, please let me know if you enjoyed. Thank you so, so much. Love, Luna 💌

#lunaloveseddie #Eddie munson x reader #Eddie munson x you #eddie munson x afab!reader #Eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson au

[alwaysonthemend]

Chestnuts Roasting

Author's Note: Hi again! Part 2 of my holiday fics is here! For this one, I got several requests for decorating a Christmas tree with Danny and one for some fluffy, romantic sex by the fireplace. I hope I did them justice. Josh and Sam are left so if you have any requests for either of them, please don't hesitate to send them to me! As always, if you see any typos... no you didn't.

Content Warnings: Unprotected p in v sex, just a tee tiny bit of angst if you squint (some talk about feeling insecure) but mostly just fluff.

Word Count: 2921

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“This one!” You excitedly point to the largest tree in the row. 

Danny looks over to where you’re pointing, a large smile on his face. 

“The biggest one you could find, huh?” He asks you, amusement evident in his tone. 

You’d begged for days for Danny to take you out here to pick out a tree. Danny, having grown up in Frankenmuth where Christmas is so prevalent all the time, is often a little lacking in the holiday spirit. You’ve heard him say time and time again that for him it’s just “not that special anymore” and that he’s perfectly content to forgo most of the holiday traditions that most people adore. But after he’d come to learn just how much you love Christmas – how much you love listening to Christmas music and decorating and doing all of the stereotypical Christmas stuff, he’d been a little more willing to do it all with you. Afterall, he’s said that doing it with you made it far more special than it had been when he was growing up in Michigan. 

So here you both are, bundled up in your warmest clothes and walking hand and hand through the rows and rows of trees. Your own little winter wonderland. 

“Of course! Go big or go home, babe.” You wave over at one of the workers, beckoning him over to show him which tree you want. 

“And when there’s no room on top for a star you’re gonna regret it.” Danny laughs, though the fondness in his eyes is still more than evident. In fact, it’s only grown after your pick in trees. 

“Nah. There’ll be room.” You tell him, keeping a watchful eye as the worker cuts down the beautiful tree. “It’s gonna be perfect.” 

“I’m sure it will.” Danny says before pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek, his lips a warm relief from the bite of the cold winter air. 

⍋⍋⍋⍋⍋⍋⍋⍋⍋

The tree was in fact just a bit too large. The top of the tree was just barely smushed into the ceiling but Danny had been kind enough to not say anything about it. And as you began to decorate, a Christmas song playlist filtering through softly, Danny watched you fondly from his place on the couch. 

“You’re a great help there, Danny.” You say sarcastically, hooking another ornament on the tree. 

“Here.” Danny’s voice appears, his head leaning down to your ear and his hand finding the small of your back. “Let me.” He takes the ornament from your grasp and hooks it high up on the tree near the top. 

“I’m moral support, babe.”

You roll your eyes, standing on your tiptoes to reach up on the tree where there weren’t as many ornaments. You can’t quite reach. You hop a bit, reaching your arms up as high as they can go but it’s still not quite where you want it. 

“Thanks” You breath out, his proximity making you blush a little bit. No matter how long the two of you have been together, you still find that he can make you blush and your heart pound just like he had at the beginning of your relationship. 

“Hand me another one.” He says sweetly, and you blindly reach into the box that you use for Christmas storage and pull out the first one that your fingers find. 

As you hand it to Danny, you both smile at the sight of the ornament that he had given you for your first Christmas together. It’s beautiful. A sheer glass snowflake, the edges cut so that it mimics diamond. It’s a delicate thing that you remember being completely in awe of when he gifted it to you. You had admired it in a store once while you and Danny had been shopping for gifts for friends and family and you had refrained from buying it at the time for the sake of only spending money on gifts for others. But Danny had gone back and bought it for you.

“It’s my favorite one.” You tell him, watching as he hangs it carefully. 

“It’s very pretty.” He smiles, taking the next ornament from you. 

“Even prettier because you gave it to me.”

This time, it’s Danny who blushes. It’s barely there but you can just make it out under the glow of the white lights from the tree. 

“I’m glad you like it. I was so stressed trying to find you a gift that year.” 

Your heart warms at the thought of him putting so much effort into just one gift. It makes you smile to think back to that Christmas. You and Danny had only just begun dating some two months before, and though you’d been smitten with him from the very start, you had also been worried about what to buy him. It’s a comforting thought to know that he had gone through the exact same thing. 

“Why?”

“Well,” he starts, voice soft and buttery, “it was our first holiday season together and I wanted it to be something you would really like. But I also didn’t want to go overboard since we’d only been together for a few months. I didn’t want to scare you off or something by getting something too expensive.” 

“You wouldn’t have scared me off.” You tell him, handing him one of the last ornaments. “I was worried about the same thing to be completely honest.” 

Danny turns to face you, his curls framing his face so beautifully that you have a hard time not staring. 

“The gift you got me was so perfect, Y/n. One of the best I’ve ever gotten.”

Your eyes widen just a bit. 

“Really?” 

You’d gifted him a leather bound journal with gold embossed pages and a tree of life stamped into the cover. It had been for the purpose of writing down his songs and lyrics that he came up with. 

“Really.” He says, smiling down at you fondly. “I still have it, you know. I’ve filled up all the pages but I like to keep it so I can read the note that you wrote on the inside.”

Your brows furrow as you try and remember what you wrote that he considers so special but you can’t remember. It had just said “Merry Christmas” and your name signed at the bottom. Nothing entirely extraordinary or profound. You had wanted to keep it simple back then. 

“Why? I don’t think I wrote much in it.”

“No. But at the end,” he steps closer, his hands finding your waist and holding softly. “You wrote: I Love You at the bottom before signing your name. We’d said ‘I love you’ before but… I don’t know. I guess seeing it written down for the first time felt special.” He shrugs, looking slightly embarrassed. “I guess it was just nice to know that even though we weren’t face to face, you still felt that way and wanted to write it down. I had always worried that maybe you only said it back because I said it first.” 

Silence falls for a long moment and you feel as though your heart might melt. Danny – despite always being the one to care for others… despite always being the nurturer and the caretaker, sometimes doubts his place in his loved one’s hearts. Though his physical appearance and the confidence that he seems to always carry hides it, there’s a deep feeling of insecurity and doubt way down in his heart. Not something that he would ever openly admit or seek reassurance on, but there nonetheless. It had taken a long time for you to even see it. And to think that he’d been afraid that you were only saying ‘I love you’ back to him because he said it first… it makes your heart ache for him. 

“Danny…” You murmur, reaching up to place your hands on his cheeks, “I’m pretty sure that I fell in love with you the first time that I met you. Of course I always meant it. I still do.”

He smiles widely, though there’s a mist to his eyes now.

“I know that now. I just needed more reassurance back then.”

That makes you frown as guilt swirls through your chest. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t give it to you.” 

“No!” He says suddenly, shaking his head fiercely. “You did. That note, your actions, everything that you did reassured me. And you still do. Every single day.” 

You smile and lift yourself up on your tippy toes to place a kiss on his lips. 

“I love you.” You murmur. 

“Love you more."

⍋⍋⍋⍋⍋⍋⍋⍋⍋

The weather had only managed to get worse and worse as time went on. Where once the sky had been a snowy gray, now was only a blanket of clouds. 4:30 and night is already beginning to fall as the wind and snow picks up. 

“Damn.” Danny mutters, the house itself seeming to shake thanks to the powerful gusts of wind. “Happy first snowstorm of the season.” He jokes, his back to you as he gazes out the window into the dusk-lit lawn. 

“I was hoping for a bonfire out back tonight but…” You come to stand beside him at the window, taking in the snowfall on the ground. “I don’t think that’s going to be happening tonight.”

Danny nods, shoving his hands into the pockets of his dark jeans. 

“Don’t think so.” He affirms. “We could at least get the fireplace going in here.” 

“That sounds lovely.” 

You watch as Danny works to light the fireplace, a warm, comfy glow immediately descending over the room. Danny looks gorgeous in the flickering light of the flames and you don’t hesitate to tell him so. 

“You look pretty incredible, too.” Is his answer as he sinks into the leather sofa next to you.

His eyes glitter in the dim light. His lips – plump and pink, stretch wide in a smile. He’s the picture of beauty sitting there next to you. 

As the fire rages on, you shiver – the coldness from outside seeping through to give you a chill. 

“Cold?” Danny asks quietly, scooting closer to you. 

“Just a little.” 

He grins, though this time there’s a playful glint in his eye. 

“Bet I can warm you up.” 

You sigh and roll your eyes. 

“Really?” You ask him, leaning backwards into the arm of the sofa and looking up at him through your lashes. “That was like… Wattpad worthy, babe.” Even still, you reach upwards to grab his broad shoulders and use your grip on him to pull him down on top of you. His lips are so close that you could easily lean up and kiss him. 

“What can I say? I’m just really smooth.” He winks and presses a kiss to your jaw, then another beneath your ear. 

“You’re a dork.” You laugh, though your breath still hitches when his teeth sink into your ear lobe. Unable to resist him, you spread your legs a bit so that you can hook them behind his back and pull him in closer. His curls tickle your face but you barely notice them thanks to the feeling of his half-hard cock pressing into your groin. 

Danny hums, his lips continuing to explore down your throat. He nips the sensitive skin before soothing it with a kiss before moving on down to your collarbone. His hands, large and strong, grasp your hips softly. That’s one thing that you love about him. Despite his strength, he still touches and holds you with the utmost care. Reverence, really. 

“Danny.” You whine, arching slightly into him. Your arousal is growing like a wildfire, engulfing you with want for the man on top of you. 

“I know.” He murmurs, drawing away to slide your pants and panties down your legs, letting you kick them off. “Can I taste you, love?” 

You nod, breathless and not trusting your voice. 

Slowly, teasingly, he licks over you – the tip of his tongue sweeping through your folds before swirling your clit. Your hand drops to his head without conscious thought, your fingers lacing through his curls and tugging. A deep rumble sounds from his chest at the slight sting to his scalp. 

“Shittt.” Your back arches as his tongue flicks your swollen bud once again and he smiles into your heat at the way you squirm beneath him. “Fuck, Danny.” 

The speed of his tongue increases and then, without warning, he sinks a finger into you, curling upwards the way he knows you love. He’s relentless, seemingly intent on bringing you to finish as quickly as he possibly can. 

Your veins feel like they’re full of liquid fire as the band in your belly tightens and your cries begin to grow louder. The raging storm outside only serves to barely muffle your exclamations of pleasure. With one last curl of Danny’s finger and a deliberate flick of his tongue on your aching mound, your orgasm overtakes you. That fire in your belly spreads, warming you all over as he coaxes you through your release. 

“I’ll never grow tired of that.” Danny murmurs, licking his lips clean of your release as he glances up at you. He smiles as he takes in the sight before him. You – your cheeks flushed and your eyes blown dark with lust as you gaze at him sitting between your thighs. “I could eat you out all day.” You believe him. 

“Would you please fuck me, Daniel?” You ask him, giving him your very best doe eyes. If you let him, he’d keep bringing you to orgasm just like this – over and over and over again, completely ignoring his own pleasure for the sake of yours. But you want him. You want to feel him, every single inch of him, stretching you in the most delicious way. 

Without a word, he slips his own pants off his legs, his boxers soon to follow. His cock, red and rock solid stands out proudly. He’s the only man you’ve ever known to have such a pretty cock. He swipes a finger through your folds, gathering your wetness and using it to slick himself, a breathy moan escaping him as his own hand passes over himself. 

“You’re so beautiful.” He says, his voice quiet and husky. “I’m so lucky to get to see you like this.” 

You whine, spreading your legs in the hopes that he’ll hurry things up. Your cunt is aching to feel him and you want desperately to see his face as he finally succumbs to his own pleasure. 

As if hearing your thoughts, finally he sinks into you, stretching you perfectly and groaning loudly as he bottoms out. 

“Jesus, Danny.” You manage to say between stuttered, heavy breaths. “You feel so good.” 

Danny leans downwards, pressing his forearms on either side of your head and smothering your body with his own. There isn’t much room on the couch for two full grown adults but neither of you seem to care. It’s just an excuse to be as close as possible to each other. 

“Move, baby.” You coax and he’s quick to obey. 

He draws back before sliding into you once again, his strokes long and deliberate. As aggressively as he’d made you cum earlier, now there’s no rush for either of you. Your breaths mingle, his head dipped down so that his lips hover over your own. His brows pinch together as he thrusts into you, drawing a louder whine from between your lips. You slide your palms up under his shirt, running your fingertips over the expanse of skin and feeling the way his back muscles flex with each movement. He shivers and groans, his pace picking up only slightly after you rake your nails down his back. 

“You feel like Heaven wrapped me.” He punctuates the sentence with a moan. “So tight and warm.” 

You nod, lost in the feeling of him. It’s like the whole world has shrunk down to only you and him – the storm rages on outside but neither of you pay it any mind. That simmering low in your belly begins to spark, gently beginning to spread through you. Danny leans down to press his forehead to yours as the pleasure between the two of you builds and builds. 

“Danny.” Your voice is a quiet, whimpering thing. 

Immediately, Danny knows exactly what it is you need and he reaches a hand between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing slow circles over the swollen nub. Where before your orgasm had slammed into you, this one creeps up and over you like a warm blanket. It goes on for what feels like forever as you arch upwards into Danny, his finger never ceasing on your clit and his own hips beginning to stutter. 

“Fuck, keep making those noises.” He begs, and you realize now that whines are falling from your mouth with reckless abandon as he fucks you through your release. 

At last, Danny pulls out of you just in time for his release to spill across your lower belly, deep moans ringing out in the air between the two of you. Then silence, broken only by yours and his heavy breathing. 

“Warmer?” Danny asks at last, before brushing his lips over yours. You chase them, catching him for a deeper kiss before pulling away. 

“Much warmer.” He brushes a strand of hair away from your forehead and tucks it behind your ear. “I love you.” 

Danny smiles, sweet as honey. 

“I love you more.” 

⍋⍋⍋⍋⍋⍋⍋⍋⍋

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