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lanasblood · 1 year

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BIG EYES, BIG LIES | neteyam x reader

pairing: neteyam x f!metkayina!reader summary: you've had suffered silently from years of bullying within the metkayina clan, never sharing your pain with anyone, not even your boyfriend neteyam, until one day, there's no other option, resulting in a huge argument between the two of you but also a moment of understanding and healing. word count: 5.8k warnings: angsty beginning, fluffy end, !!!severe mentions of bullying, injuries, violence, blood!!! (read at your own risk), established relationship, protective neteyam, angry neteyam, healer boyfriend neteyam, difficult past, lying, insults, some suggestive comments, let me know if i forgot something. note: all characters are aged up; the following na’vi words were used: tsurak - skimwing, skxawng - idiot, pxasìk - screw that/no way, kurkung - asshole, kalweyaveng - son of a bitch (lit. 'child of a poisonous spider‘), tsantu - good guy

* gif's not mine.

The familiar sound of your name said over and over again lured you into consciousness. You had lost all sense of the space-time continuum, not knowing where up or down was, whether you were alive or dead.

Only the pain was omnipresent, it told you it was real what you felt. It burned and pulsed, throbbed and tingled. You surrendered to this pain for what felt like an eternity, groaning again in agony because every movement, no matter how tiny, hurt.

"You are awake."

A bright voice made you widen your eyes. Everything was dark, shadowy, intangible, strange.

Panic flooded your body and only now did you feel the cold around your legs, your aching body. It was dark, almost black. The kind of perfect darkness you saw in shades of dark grey in front of your eyes as a result of signals from the optic nerves. You were lying on the ground of the empty marui near the seawall terraces.

"No, don't move. Please."

You only heard a single voice, but you felt many more echoing in your pounding head. Hands were on your shoulders, apparently wanting to prevent you from making too hectic movements or even getting up, which increased your panic.

"Right, uh, light, light, light, mhm — Ah, there! Wait here!"

You squinted against the darkness again, hoping to see something, but the only thing you could really see clearly was a beam of soft dancing lights coming through the small crack under the entry into the marui you were in and the faint outline of the person kneeling in front of you.

Before you could reply anything, the light coming from a bioluminescent seashell was held in your face without warning and you squinted your eyes again, trying to protect them from the purple light.

"I'm so sorry, y/n I should've warned you," you heard the person in front of you speak who happens to be none other than Neteyam's brother, Lo'ak. "Damn! You don't look good at all!"

Thank you.

"What happened?"

"I guess, I, um…" Quick, you had to think of a good lie now, "I didn't feel so good after today's training. You know, high intensity under the sun can be exhausting," You looked down at yourself and noticed your bloodstained upper piece. "And it, uh, caused nose-bleeding…" You noticed the many bruises on your legs. "I must've fainted because of it, hurting myself."

"I can see that," Lo'ak looked pitifully at the left side of your face, right under your eye, then shifted his gaze to your bruised upper lip, and back at the place right under your hairline. "Did you fall face-first or something? That looks so baaaad."

Thanks again, appreciated.

"I, uh, yeah, can you help me up?"

A sharp pain shot through your chest as Lo'ak pulled you up by your arm and you had to grab the wall to catch your breath. You coughed uncontrollably as whatever it was that caused that pain left you breathless. Lo'ak patted you gently on the back, carefully, but every touch hurt.

"I didn't know you had to train so hard. I thought you had a fun day as we did, playing with the ilus."

"My teacher's very strict unfortunately."

"Hmm."

"What are you doing here anyway? It's the girls' communal marui."

Lo'ak's eyes widened at your question, "I swear I'm not some kind of creep," he quickly said, "Tsireya said she lost her hair band so I figured I look for it here," he looked at the ground beneath his feet, which was smeared with dirt and blood – your blood, "but maybe it's not here, yeah, anyway, good thing I came here or else you would've died or something."

"I wouldn't have died," you said, amazed at his dramatic exaggeration.

Lo'ak shrugged his shoulders, "Not so sure about that."

You followed his gaze and your reflection in the mirror caught your attention. Your skin was sticky, your clothes were damp with blood and sweat, and you felt gross.

"I, uh," Feeling a sense of embarrassment, Lo'ak gestured with his finger towards the spot behind the marui, "I'll just quickly go… there, uh, for a moment. Will you be okay?" You nodded. "Neteyam is near, by the way, we have a chill round with Tsireya and Ao'nung and the others, how about you come with me?" You stared at him as if frozen, but eventually managed to nod once more. "Perfect. Okay. See you in a minute." With that, he left you alone, and you felt your breath quicken.

On one hand, a sense of relief washed over you at the thought of Neteyam being nearby and able to be there for you when you needed him. On the other hand, you had no idea how you would talk your way out of this situation. He would ask questions, and it would become uncomfortable. Old lies would threaten to resurface. The thought made your stomach churn.

You noticed how your shawl, which you had wrapped around yourself, had absorbed the blood, leaving the fabric irreparably stained. In this condition, going home was out of the question. Not only would your mother be beside herself upon seeing you, but you also had to pass through the communal areas to reach your marui. Once Lo'ak was out of sight, you struggled to slip the fabric off your shoulders, feeling the pain in every single bone. You realized that even your upper piece hadn't been spared as you held the shawl under the water and noticed the stains on your upper body.

Outside the marui, you kneeled down with an effort, and decided to wash your hands and face in one of the pool's water. A drop of pinkish-red-colored sweat dripped from your chin into the water, or maybe it wasn't sweat at all, who knew, it could be tears as well, you shouldn't just limit it to sweat.

"That's what I get for lying," you hissed at yourself, while your hands dunk back into the water, getting everything else around you, including half of your upper body, wet.

You decided to wash the red stains out of your shawl, the water changing its color around your hands to a washed-out reddish blur.

There was a clearing of the throat in the distance, perhaps just a few meters away from you.

"I'm coming back, y/n, okay?"

You cursed under your breath, focussing solely on removing the stains as you washed the shawl in your hands even more aggressively now, the noise of the splashing water being louder than your own thoughts.

"Let's go!" Lo'ak stood behind you.

Before you knew it, you had torn the light blue fabric in your hand. You closed your eyes in defeat and suppressed another curse word. It was a shame actually, because you liked combining the shawl with matching loincloths over various chest pieces you were wearing most of the time. You at least convinced yourself that you wouldn't have gotten the bloodstains out anyway, so the fate of the garment was sealed from the start, even before you had accidentally torn it.

Setting aside the damp piece of torn fabric, you stood up with a sigh and turned to Lo'ak, ready to follow him to wherever he would take you. At least you had washed most of the blood off your body.

"Thank you for not dying on me," Lo'ak joked next to you and all you could manage was a small smile. Your entire body ached, and every step you took felt as if you could collapse at any moment.

In the distance, you could discern a gathering of young Na'vi near the shoreline, forming a circle as they enjoyed each other's company. Some sat or reclined in the sand, while others perched on rocks, and a few stood, perhaps sharing tales. Their laughter resonated through the air, creating a joyful ambiance against the backdrop of the shimmering water and the twinkling stars above.

Just a few meters away, Lo'ak gave you a final thumbs-up, leading the way to the group with you by his side, and the clamor of voices grew increasingly chaotic, enveloping both of you in its midst.

"No, of course not, it should fear us!"

"What are you talking about? Not even my grandma would fear you!"

"Your grandma isn't a fish, is she?"

"Don't say anything against my grandma!"

Your head felt like exploding any second. Not because of the boys, but because you felt the need to lie down. That's what you thought until you suddenly heard Neteyam's calm voice, and instantly, you felt a little bit better.

"If you approach it with the right mindset and undergo the necessary training, I have no doubts you will succeed!"

"No, he definitely has no chance, look at him, like a squid in armor."

Tsireya, who had refrained from the heated discussion, was the only one who looked up. As her eyes met yours, they widened, and she quickly rose from her seat, approaching you. With a gentle and questioning gaze, she placed a hand on your arm, showing her concern.

"Are you okay?" she asked in a soft voice searching your gaze. Appreciating her care, you placed your hand on hers, mustering a small smile.

You heard how Lo'ak cleared his throat, as it seemed that nobody else had noticed you.

"Don't mind them, y/n," Lo'ak turned to you, as your presence remained unnoticed by the boys, "You can take my seat over there next to Tsireya's while I go find you a new shawl."

"No, here, take mine," Tsireya suggested already putting her shawl over your shoulders, the piece hugging your torso.

After that it got quiet very quickly, because when your name was mentioned, Neteyam looked up, and with him the others.

Immediately he got up from the rock he was sitting on and in a few steps he stood right in front of you, hesitating whether he should hug you, and finally decided to do so. When he carefully put his arm around you and pulled you close, you hissed slightly out of pain and suddenly felt even more fragile and broken than in all of the previous weeks.

"I go and bring some new clothing for her," you heard Tsireya's voice, "and maybe some wound dressing from my mother." You saw out of the corner of your eye how Lo'ak nodded gratefully when Tsireya was already hurrying away.

You didn't feel like crying, but you felt so weak and helpless and wanted to just stand there for hours while Neteyam hugged you.

"What happened?" he asked softly, his voice thick with concern.

"Is that blood?" you heard the other boys whisper among themselves.

"Did you see her face, man?"

Rotxo's voice stood out more than the others as he addressed his question directly to you, repeating Neteyam's words, "What happened, y/n?"

You stayed quiet and pressed closer to Neteyam despite the pain, and Lo'ak did the answering for you, "The training today under the sun made her nose bleed out of exhaustion or allergy or something so that she passed out," he explained hastily, heading back to his seat.

You felt Neteyam stiffen in the hug and you squinted to escape reality for a few more seconds.

"First of all, what kind of lie is that even?" Your heart sank when you heard one of the boys – you guessed Ao'nung – talking loudly, questioning the course of action, and before long everyone else was about to join in the conversation, one at a time. And with every sentence you felt the urge to leave the place on the spot.

"Ask y/n, I swear that's what happened! I found her near the marui by the seawall terraces."

"She might have been passed out but pxasìk — I don't buy that!"

"What were you doing there, Lo'ak?" someone else with longer hair asked.

"None of your business, bro."

"And second of all, she rather looks like she was beaten up." At that, Neteyam pushed you slightly away from him to give you a questioning look and inspect you more closely. His eyes alternated between yours and you recognized how the hint of suspicion crept into his eyes.

"She was clearly beaten up!" The girl on the far left, Neteyam's sister, Kiri, unexpectedly supported Ao'nung's statement, which was highly unusual for her. It wasn't her cold demeanor towards you that was atypical, but rather her agreement with Ao'nung that caught you off guard.

"Yeah, right! I mean, look at her." Every head turned to you now, inspecting you from head to toe, as if you were some kind of object.

"That's not true," you argued weakly, supporting yourself on the tree with your left hand, and grabbing Neteyam's hand with your right one because your feet threatened to buckle any second. Noticing that, he lead you to the rock right in front of you and carefully helped you sit down.

"The real question is who did that to poor y/n?"

"Why? You wanna beat up some girls for her?"

"Girls? I thought it'd be some kurkung from the tsurak taming team."

"Hey, don't say that, they're cool."

"Yeah, and don't cuss when Kiri and y/n are here."

"They are no children."

"Tsireya's back!" Lo'ak's voice drowned out the others, not surprising given the fact how loud he announced the return of the soft-spoken girl. Apart from you no one seemed to pay any attention to him, they were far too busy arguing amongst themselves.

"Nah, man, what kinda skxawng beats girls? Not me for sure."

"Let's teach those guys a lesson then."

"So now you wanna beat up guys for her?"

"Why not? She's Neteyam's girl, she's one of us."

"True words." You frowned as you realized how much they had gotten into the discussion when Tsireya handed you a neatly packed bag with fresh clothing inside which you gratefully accepted.

"Why would you all choose violence all of a sudden?" Tsireya looked around with an irritated expression, not sure what she had missed in the last couple of minutes.

"Those kalweyavengs deserve it!"

"You skxawng don't talk like that in front of my sister."

"But, you said—"

"Everybody quiet!" You winced slightly when you heard the anger in his voice vibrate through his body; he who had kept quiet the whole time, just observing, never speaking. Instantly it fell silent at the beach and all eyes were on Neteyam, except for yours.

"It has gotten late," he added, quieter but clearly audible, "We should all go back to the village." You expected a protest to erupt, but you were wrong again. Without a word, the individual heads of that group got up from where they sat on rocks or the sand, and left the beach, heading in the direction of the village, one after the other.

"Thank you, brother," Neteyam spoke as Lo'ak passed by, giving him a grateful pat on the back of his head. You caught Lo'ak nodding at him and giving you a pitiful look, and you managed to mouth a 'thank you' as well before he left.

"Why did you lie to him?" Neteyam nodded his head in the direction of his now-gone brother. "To Lo'ak, I mean."

You stared at your hands on your lap instead of answering him, so he sighed and knelt in front of you, positioning himself between your legs. With a gentle touch, he placed his hands on each of your thighs, right at the hem of your loincloth.

"I'm seriously worried, y/n, and it's almost a miracle I'm staying calm right now. What happened?" He cocked his head and looked up, searching for the gaze you were trying so hard to avoid. "Please talk to me." The gentle touch of his hands on your thighs, which you usually never got enough of, now felt like a burning sensation, causing inner agony within you.

"I didn't want to tell him the truth," you finally said, answering his first question.

"Do you want to tell me?"

"It's nothing, Neteyam, I—"

"Nothing?" He laughed wryly, letting go and walking away from you as he walked around in a circle and turned back with an ironic smile that didn't reach his eyes, his tail whipped aggressively behind him, "That certainly doesn't look like nothing to me." He gestured to you with both hands.

You covered your face with your hair because you could only imagine how terrible you must've looked, how disgusted he must've been with you, that he thought you weren't beautiful.

"You're in pain. You have bruises everywhere. You're covered in blood! And yet you say it's nothing. Do you listen to yourself?"

"I can handle it," you replied, adding more quietly, "It's not that I'm not used to it."

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing," you said quickly, irritated by his questions, "I mean nothing at all. Can… can you help me change into these?" You held up the bag from Tsireya which provided a good change of subject. It would be impossible for you to raise both arms and put the pieces on by yourself. On second thought, Neteyam would see the bruises on your chest that way, and the mere thought made your stomach ache. Therefore, realizing that the shawl provided good cover and not wanting to part with it, you added a quick, "Nevermind, I'll do it myself."

As if he had read your thoughts, he approached you with a determined gaze. Your breath caught as you felt his hand pull the shawl from your shoulders. Quickly, you clung to the fabric, stopping mid-movement, and placed your other hand on his to stop him from exposing your skin.

"Please," you looked him in the eyes, your voice barely audible. You didn't know what you begged him for. To stop him from seeing your injuries? To stop touching you? To stop asking questions? To stop digging for the truth? Did you want him to stop in the first place? Or did you want him to find out and free you from your net of lies?

He gently slipped your shawl off your shoulders, and then sucked in a sharp breath and bit the inside of his cheek, apparently trying to keep himself from swearing but the restless movements of his tail gave him away.

You didn't have to look to see that a huge wound must have been looming on your collarbones and on your side right under your breasts. Judging by the pain, you wouldn't be surprised if some ribs were broken.

"Who did this to you." It was no longer a question driven by curiosity, as he had asked earlier. This was serious. He wanted names and locations. He wanted to know who had done such a dreadful thing to his loved one. Who dared to harm you in any way. Judging by the fire in his eyes, he wanted to see that person bleed the way you did.

"Are you going to beat up some girls for me?" You playfully repeated the question you'd heard one of the boys say before. However, the way Neteyam clenched his jaw showed you it wasn't time to crack up some jokes.

"Tell me."

"No."

"Y/n."

"Neteyam."

He studied you intently, examining every facial expression, every subtle gesture, before speaking again, "You never slipped down any cliffs last week, did you?" he asked, a hint of skepticism in his voice. "And what about last month when you said you—"

"I lied, okay?" you shouted at him, unleashing the pent-up frustration, as if he were the cause of your misery. "I made it all up. Every single bit of it. I'm a liar, and I'm a coward. Are you happy now?"

"Happy? It pains me to see you like that," he retorted, his voice rising with frustration, "Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"What was I supposed to say!?" you shouted back, your voice filled with exasperation. "Cry like a baby and point at them for being mean to me?"

"No, but someone could've helped. Everything is better than that!" His tone was raised as well when he pointed at your bruises.

"They won't! I tried!" you hissed, the bitterness evident in your voice, "Once, when I was little and foolishly believed that my parents would trust and listen to me. But what did they do? They forced us to hug and pretend to be friends again, dismissing it all as a mere misunderstanding among children. And you know what happened next? They sought their revenge by cutting my hair," you swallowed hard, the memory of that painful incident resurfacing, "I cried so much that day. That's when I made a promise to myself that I would never tell anyone anything again."

"I am here now, I hear you, I see you," he responded gently, his voice filled with empathy, "Please, let me help." You shook off the hand that he tried to place on your shoulder. He silently acknowledged this, a hurt expression crossing his eyes, which he quickly concealed.

"There's nothing you can do. I've learned from my mistake today: Don't confront them when it's four against one. Simple solution," you stated firmly, emphasizing your resolve.

"I am eager to find out who they are," he expressed with a determined tone.

"It's not important."

"Y/n," Neteyam shook his head, his expression firm, "I won't be at peace unless you tell me their names."

"Don't ask me!" you once again raised your voice against him. "I won't say anything. You make it worse for me."

"I am the one making it worse?" he asked, seeking confirmation.

"Yes," you said firmly, causing him to blink in surprise. "Please, Neteyam, for the love of Eywa, stop asking!"

"Understood," he nodded, his nose flared up and his tail on edge.

"You're pissed, I can understand that… but I don't deserve the way you treat me right now. You're pushing me too much."

"What do you exactly want me to do?!" His voice erupted with anger, his frustration visible, "Yes, I am pissed. But not because of the lies or because of your bruises. I am pissed because of you. Because of the way you're behaving right now. Your eye and the bruises on your face and body were not an accident, that's a fact we both are aware of. Yet, you choose to protect them. But why? It seems you're too proud to admit the truth, to tell me the truth."

"That's not true!" you yelled at him angrily, annoyed by repeating yourself over and over again.

He let out a groan of frustration, seemingly struggling to maintain self-control, "Just tell me who did this to you and I will make sure they regret ever laying a finger on you!"

He waited for your response.

You remained silent, holding your ground against his warning gaze for a long moment.

"Good," he interrupted the eye contact and nodded his head, "Then don't trust me, it's fine."

"Neteyam…"

"This is pointless." Neteyam brushed you off, walking back towards the village, not giving you another look when he passed your shoulder.

"Neteyam, don't walk away from me," you snapped out, feeling anger flare up inside of you. You reached out and grabbed his arm.

He stopped, slowly turning to face you.

"Just… stop for a second, okay?" you said in an irritated tone.

"Why?" He retorted.

He was staring at you, and you were staring back at him, and you were suddenly hyper aware of how close he was standing to you. Both of you breathing heavily, anger and frustration ebbing between the two of you; you were standing close, so close. You were suddenly struck by how attractive he was, his eyes flashing as he stared at you, searching your face for any answers when he took another step closer.

"If only you knew how much it hurts to be pushed away like this."

Before you knew what was happening, he brushed off your arm again, and walked away, leaving you to yourself and your lies. And this time, you didn't stop him; you only focussed on the point where he was standing just seconds ago, thinking of his words that left a deep pain in your chest, making you choke on your own words and tears falling from your eyes.

A little later, as you sat on the sand, lost in your thoughts, you hopefully perked up at the sound of footsteps approaching in the sand. Your heart fluttered with hope, and you hastily wiped away the tears from your face, turning around with anticipation, expecting to see Neteyam, but to your surprise it was just Kiri.

"Where's Neteyam?" she asked you.

"Gone." You put the little shell you were playing with back on the sand and traced the pattern with your finger.

"Well, you're here, so I'm sure he'll come back." You strongly doubted that, considering the way he had last looked at you.

"He was really angry," you mumbled, thinking back to your little argument. You spoke more to yourself than to Kiri. In fact, you didn't even think she heard you or paid any attention to you when you heard her gather and pack up the two pillows and the seaweed blanket that she forgot before. Yet her next question made you look up in surprise.

"But can you blame him?" Kiri narrowed her eyes in annoyance as she looked at you.

"I'm sorry?" you looked at her expectantly.

Kiri puffed bored, "My brother has always been courteous and polite towards you. He was the perfect definition of tsantu. Oh, Great Mother— he stripped his soul for you and gave you everything you wanted. Do you really blame him for getting angry for once?"

You focused your gaze back on the sand in front of you. The little shells looked like they were expecting an answer from you that never came for you didn't know what to reply to that.

"You are a grown girl. You have to be able to take a little criticism," Kiri added as she headed back to the village, "And I'm sure you both will fix it again. Buck up and get well soon." You nodded your thanks as she raised her hand in farewell and left again.

A heavy, uncomfortable silence fell over you, enveloping you like a suffocating blanket. At that moment, you felt utterly alone, isolated from the world around you not even caring of your body's aches anymore. Mirroring the depths of your solitude under the dark skies, the vast expanse of the ocean stretched out before you. Its endless waves, crashing against the shore, seemed to echo the tumultuousness of your thoughts.

You had no idea how long you had been sitting in the sand, lost in contemplation of your life when you heard footsteps behind you once again that night. This time, you didn't bother to look up, for you knew it would be one of the others who had forgotten something (though you were unsure what, as Kiri had taken everything), or perhaps your parents, searching for you.

Without a word, the person sat down across from you on his knees and reached out with his arm to pull you closer to him so that your thighs were between his knee and his between yours.

In an instant, the unmistakably pleasing scent of him infused with a mix of dew-kissed leaves and the earthy allure of sandalwood, clung to you like a whispered secret, caressed your nose and relaxed your muscles.

You endured it silently as he took a cloth out of the bowl of water he brought with him, wrung it out briefly and then carefully dabbed the area under your eye with it. He did this with so much caution and care that you felt bad for emotionally pushing him away from you. You watched his forehead furrow in concentration and he paused and waited every time you flinched at the pain.

"Since when?" you heard him speak, his voice pleasantly calm and understanding.

"Too long," you said, to which he sighed, not annoyed but rather disappointed because you continued to hold onto the emotional wall you had built long ago. "I'm sorry, Neteyam, it's just…" you struggled to find the right words.

"There's no need for apologies if you're content with staying the same."

"I'm not," you clarified honestly. "You have no idea how burdensome these lies are. I want to confide in you — it's just that I was scared of your reaction." As you spoke, you noticed how his tail twitched with interest, and his gaze shifted from the wound on your face to meet your eyes. "I was afraid that you would see me as weak and pity me. I had hoped that the lies would help me preserve this fragile facade. But I now realize I was mistaken, and for that I'm deeply sorry, Neteyam, I've never wanted to hurt your feelings."

"Y/n," Neteyam whispered, his hand tenderly caressing your cheek with a touch filled with love and affection, "my beloved, the one who holds my heart, I am sorry for pushing you before and I will wait until you are ready to talk but, please, tell me how I can help you. Tell me everything."

You shrugged, shaking your hand, looking everywhere but him.

"Neteyam, I know you want to help, but I don't want you to mess with these girls," you then looked him serious in the eyes, "Promise me that first."

A cocky smirk appeared on his lips, "Baby, if you really think I'm scared of some—"

"Neteyam," you interrupted him, your tone serious, "They may be bullies, but they're not completely stupid. They won't direct their actions towards you; they'll most likely take their anger out of your siblings."

His smirk vanished in an instant, "You know, I won't let that happen."

"I know," you affirmed sincerely. "You are their brother, and you will protect them, but you can't be everywhere all at once. You can't keep a constant watch over Tuk while also looking after Lo'ak or Kiri, for instance. Please don't risk it. I can handle it, really. I couldn't forgive myself if something happened to one of them because of me."

"I am yours, and you are mine, remember?" He smiled at you, his eyes shining. "So, you are not alone in this. I will go to any lengths to ensure your safety and well-being. I will protect you, y/n, but you must allow me to be there for you."

As the words hung in the air, a moment of silence passed between you, the weight of the conversation lingering. Then, Neteyam reached out, his hand gently intertwining with yours. The touch sent a comforting warmth through your body, bridging the emotional gap that had momentarily separated you.

With a tender squeeze of your hand, he continued, his voice filled with unwavering determination, "You are my family, too."

Feeling a surge of emotions, you took a deep breath, your heart swelling with love. You looked into Neteyam's eyes, seeing the unwavering commitment reflected back at you. With a soft smile, you nodded, letting your walls come down, and whispered, "I trust you."

The atmosphere between you shifted, charged with a newfound closeness and vulnerability. It was as if an unspoken understanding passed between your souls, fueling the desire for a deeper connection. In that very second, the world around you faded into the background, leaving only the two of you standing there, hearts entwined. With the tension of unspoken words lingering in the air, you couldn't resist the magnetic pull drawing you closer to him.

So leaning in, you pressed your lips onto his soft ones — not too gently and not too forcefully, but just right. You caught sight of his eyes widening in surprise and his body remained still, but you mustered up the last bit of courage to close your eyes and hope for the best. When you felt the feathering of his eyelashes brush against your lids, you knew he, too, had his eyes closed. Then he leaned in ever so slightly, and his hands reached up to cup your uninjured cheek and the other behind your head.

Your heart pounded so loudly and harshly that you didn't think your chest could handle it, your stomach fluttered and churned with a mess of emotions that you didn't know if they'd ever go away, and your mind flooded with thousands of unanswered questions that you thought you might faint again anytime soon. But then you pulled away, your lips and his seemingly too reluctant for the loss of contact as they attempted to remain connected until the very last second, and your eyes fluttered open to the world which had frozen still; it had been a short kiss, that's for sure, but it was one that you'd remember for years to come.

"You do something to me that I can't explain," he whispered against your lips before he retrained.

"You do the same to me," you whispered back, "but I think I can explain."

"What is it?"

"I see you," you breathed, leaning up to kiss him again.

He backed away to put some distance between you and you raised an eye questioningly.

"If I kiss you again – and believe me, every cell in my body wants to," With a nervous laugh, he scratched the back of his neck before his lustful gaze turned back to you and you physically felt the excited shimmyflies in your stomach threatening to break out, "I just know, I won't be able to stop."

"Then don't."

"Oh, sweets, you love to make it hard for me, don't you?"

An inappropriate thought crossed your mind at that but you chose not to say it out loud. You didn't have to, because Neteyam's smirk looked like he knew exactly what was going through your head.

"C'mere, we need to patch you up first, and then—"

"Then we'll go to our place?" you asked excitedly.

"After I inspect you properly and decide that you don't need to see Tsahìk which I'm not so sure of yet – yes, then we could go to our place, and watch the stars or—"

"Why don't you properly inspect me at our place?" you interrupted him with a seemingly innocent look. He licked his lower lip in amusement, shaking his head.

"You're something."

"Your something," you corrected.

He looked at you in awe, as if you are the most precious thing he had ever seen. "My something," he agreed chuckling to himself and pressed a soft kiss on the top of your head. "Now hold still so I can clean your wounds."

thank you all for reading ♥︎ I hope you enjoyed this piece of writing. looking forward to your comments and feedback 💕 (p.s. for anyone wondering about the other boys, i imagined ao'nung's "bully" friends nash'vi, koro, and ongu to sit with them)

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catindabag · 5 months

Text

TBOSAS CRACK! TAKE: ✨HIMBO CORYO SNOW✨

⭐️❄️⭐️

So I was drinking and talking with my friends about TBOSAS yesterday and I remember one of them joking and saying something about how the story would’ve been so much different if Coryo Snow had the same ✨goofball energy✨ as Tom Blyth (his actor).😂

I think I choked on my drink on that one, ‘cuz imagine thee Coriolanus Snow (Le Poor Cabbage Boy) with the same himbo goofball energy and carefree attitude as Tom Blyth. The Hunger Games would’ve died right there and then. Heck! Dr. Gaul would rather feed herself to her mutts or die from aneurysm than consider Himbo!Coryo as her apparent heir and apprentice.

Also, Dean Highbottom would probably be too busy dying inside whenever he sees a happy Coryo Snow smiling and skipping like an idiot while hanging out with his genuine BFF, Sejanus Plinth.🤣

Dean Highbottom be like:

Casca: *is drunk AF* Oh Panem, why am I even here? Just to suffer-

Coryo: ✨Good morning✨❤️, Sir! I hope you’re having a great day today. *waves like an idiot*😊

Casca: Fml. The bane of my existence is here again.😩

Coryo: My dear friend Sejanus gave me some chocolate cookies earlier. Do you want to try one, Sir? They’re very delicious~.🥰

Casca: *dumbfounded* How the heck are you even Crassus Xanthos Snow’s son?!

Coryo: Well, people say that I look like him. So yeah, I am his son.😀

Casca: No you ain’t! You’re too nice and too happy to be his! So you must’ve been adopted!

Coryo: But sir, I really am his son.🥺

Casca: Please just tell me you were adopted-

Coryo: But sir-

Casca: Look me in the eye and tell me you hate me! Please, I beg you!!😭🔪

Coryo: Sejanus! Sej, help! The Dean is drunk again! He’s saying weird things to me!

Sejanus: I’m on my way, my love- I mean, ✨bestie✨!😘

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landograndprix · 7 months

Text

「Feel the magic ๛ l.n」

part iv

✧.* though you're still struggling with yourself and your relationship with lando, life is good or at least, that's what you think.

✧.* I like when reader suffers, like yes babes, cry a bit more 🥰 Toxic friends once again? Uh, yes please 🥰 this is a psa for the people who wanted to be on my taglist but never got tagged, i didn't forget or ignore you, I simply am unable to tag you and therefore removed you from the list feel free to ask me again so I can take a look at it. Taglist is open Love ya ❤️

✧.* prev part - next part

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landonorris

liked by carlossainz55, riabish and 654,897 others

landonorris 🧡

view all 1,678 comments

byelandooo well that's one way to hard launch lmfao

landitosainz great way to ruin a team 💀🤮

cecilemoulin wrong account you gremlin

norrisbae such a lando thing to do 😭

norry4 you're telling me lando's got a private insta too? what y'all hiding for us? 👀

maxfewtrell don't think this was meant to be posted here but where's the credit for the pictures mate?

johnnyp lucky son of a bitch

milouberger muppets 🧡

norrizz no but this is exactly how I imagined this relationship to go, just a bunch of idiots together 😭

carlandooo muppet and his crack head 🥰

mrsnorris 🤮

charlos16 man's really said hard launch

smoothoperatorr this is wrong on so many levels 🤡

carlossainz55 happy for you guys!

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y/nusername posted to their story

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mclaren

liked by landonorris, y/nusername and 187,672 others

mclaren first race of the season is done! 🏁 we can confirm..it was a good weekend!

tagged: landonorris, y/nusername

view all 520 comments

teammclaren we are so back baby!

freddiem y/n would've had pole if Milou didn't impend her like crazy

julieeeexo milou was not having y/n this weekend..first the impending, then nearly pushing her off the track during the race..

norrizz nah she was aggressive! We could've had a double podium!

norrislando p2 and p4 baby!!

matty28 the team bringing mclaren back to the front 👏

carlitonorris what's up with milou? Is she jealous because lando's and y/n's relationship seems to work out perfectly and hers and charles' didn't? 💀

chilisainz exactly what I was thinking 🤡

y/nloveee we could've had both of them on the podium but p4 for the babe is amazing too! 🧡

julianklein she's washed up, it's time for her to retire. outperformed by her teammate.

y/nloveee so everyone who's outperformed by their teammate today is washed up? Okay, cool, can't wait to see half the grid retire next week 🤡

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gossipf1

liked by 672 others

gossipf1 we didn't have to wait long for the proof to be posted, these pictures of Carlos and y/n have been circulating the internet since last night. Who shared the pictures is unknown.

view all 315 comments

chilisainz considering these are very personal pictures and not random paparazzi shots, I'm willing to bet money on one of their friends leaking them..won't be the first time y/n gets screwed over like that..

carlandooo no because i think you're right 😔

charlessainz no but why are they actually giving?

leclerc_16 but why do they look so cute together? 👀

norrismax I can't be the only one finding this extremely uncomfortable..why would someone leak these pictures..you can't trust anybody anymore..

jamoniconico can't she just leave these drivers alone? 🤨

joeyy000 these men really out here pulling the baddest girl on the grid..

carlito55 see I prefer this duo over whatever lando and y/n is..

verstappencharles yes!!!!

maxmaxmax imagine being lando and seeing this and reading people prefer Carlos over you 😔

brocadesmerc why does she feel the need to date every single driver on the grid? Who's next, Charles? Esteban?

hammertime considering her ex Thomas is spanish too, I'd guess she's got a type and it's not french 😭

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milouberger posted to their story

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Everything taglist; @thomaslefteyebrow @hopefulinlove @smoothopz @softboystarkey @honethatty12 @cixrosie @parkersmjs @ireadthensuetheauthors @celestialams @be-your-coffee-pot @heli991113 @kodzuvk @reality-is-a-con @80sloverry @bibissparkles @myescapefromthislife @lanando4 @f1lover55

Feel the magic taglist: @celesteblack08 @mrsmaybank13 @cha-hot @judesgfirl @roseseraj @kissesandmartinis @jpg3 @amulhermaisfelizdomundo @marialovesf1 @silkenthusiasts @luvrrish @laneyspaulding19 @emily-b @formula1bby @judespoisons @buckybarnessweetheart @strawberrychita @iifloweringnightsii @buendiabebeta @jjsprobablywrong

Lando taglist: @beatricemiruna @simp-for-fictional-people @landossainz @christianpulisic10

#lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris smau #lando norris fanfic #lando norris au #lando norris x oc #lando norris image #lando norris #lando x reader

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shebreathedherlast · 2 months

Text

Daughter of the Sea

Part III

Masterlist

Quest

Luke Castellan x f!reader

Summary: You wake up in the infirmary with a horrifying surprise.

Work Count: 1.6k

TW: Brief memory loss, weapons, mean Luke, broken bones

. .・゜゜・・゜゜・．. ･ﾟﾟ･｡. .・゜゜・・゜゜・．. ･ﾟﾟ･｡. .・゜゜・.

When your eyes fluttered open, you were unable to see. Everything around you seemed to be screaming. You pushed your weight onto your elbows as you desperately gaged your surroundings. With your vision blurred you sought for any semblance of familiarity.

Your head was pounding and your arm ached terribly. What in the gods happened? You sifted through your memories, raising your hand to cradle your head when the pain became nearly unbearable.

Footsteps scuffled towards you and your heart rate accelerated. “She’s awake!” A voice called.

You turned your head to the origin of the voice, but with your blurred vision, everything only fused together.

You made out a tuft of blonde curls and you instantly knew you would be safe. The figure made its way to you, placing a delicate blanket across your shoulders. They carried what you assumed was a tray of food.

They called your name and your head tilted up to meet their words. “Will?”

“gods, how are you feeling? Is there anywhere else that hurts?” He asked

You shook your head in confusion, “Will, what are you talking about?”

The Apollo kid furrowed his brows. An expression you couldn’t quite place fell over his features. “You’ve been in the infirmary for an entire night.” He told you.

“What?” You question, as you burrow your fists in the linen sheets to ground you.

“Do you not remember what happened yesterday?”

Your vision cleared as the events from yesterday seemed to piece themselves together.

A single infuriated word flitted from your lips, “Castellan” you growled.

Will gave you a quizzical look, “Oh so you do remember.”

Anger radiated off you. Yesterday Luke Castellan had practically robbed you of your much-deserved glory. He had humiliated and belittled you and in order to spare some semblance of dignity you were forced to break your arm. Yes, you remembered everything.

“Where is that thieving son of Hermes?” You demanded.

Will shook his head in disapproval. He turned back to the tray and returned with a bowl of steaming hot chicken noodle soup. “Is that what happened? Another one of your qualms with Luke? Seriously?”

You shruggled in response, too preoccupied to give Will an answer. You were busy thinking up all the ways you could make Luke suffer.

“You two really need to get over your whole sworn enemies thing and act like grown-ups. It gives me secondhand embarrassment watching you two fight like entitled toddlers.”

You gawked at him, “Will, I’m only seventeen, I’m not a grown-up.”

And at your comment, both of you laughed. Will was one of those guys that everyone was able to get along with. He had this easy going persona complimented by his humor that had him making friends wherever he went.

“You’re legitimately the biggest idiot I know.” He said.

And who were you to deny the truth?

“I wouldn’t exactly disagree,” You replied, an amused smile painted against your lips.

Will didn’t further the conversation, opting instead to spoon-feed you the warm broth. He gave you another drink of ambrosia before deeming that you would live.

“Thank you, Will…I really appreciate all you’re doing for me.”

Will waved his hand, dismissing your gratitude. “You won’t be saying that when I send you the bill.”

You chuckled shaking your head as you made your way out of the infirmary bed, dressing behind a curtain. Will was walking away and you had just finished pulling on your shorts as loud footsteps rang down the hall.

“You still there?” Will’s voice came from behind the curtain barrier. You pulled the fabric to the side as you stepped into the hall. “Uh…yeah”

He audibly sighed. “Good, because apparently, you're going on a quest in three hours.”

“WHAT?” You gasped.

Will cringed at your response, “Yeah, sorry that you had to find out this way but Clarisse got word of a quest from Ares and she chose the two best half-blood warriors to go with her. I’m sure you can guess what I mean by that.”

A million thoughts came crashing down on you. First, you were going to set out on your very first quest. Second, Clarisse saw you as a powerful ally and that could be useful in the future and third, the only other person besides you and Clarisse who would be addressed as “one of the best half-blood warriors” was none other than…Luke Castellan.

You huffed in anger, your fists balling at your sides. It was just your luck, Castellan, the one who had got you into this whole infirmary situation was going to ruin your first-ever quest.

Tyche must have really hated you.

. .・゜゜・・゜゜・．. ･ﾟﾟ･｡. .・゜゜・・゜゜・．. ･ﾟﾟ･｡. .・゜゜・.

Less than an hour and a half later you were packed and ready to go. Though you were forced to endure the torturous presence of Castellan, you were determined to not allow him to get to you. This time the stakes were too high and the mission too important.

Well, that was your resolution until you saw his face.

You practically saw red as you lunged forward ready to strangle the Hermes boy. Clarisse had to step in and physically restrain you from tearing Luke limb from limb.

“I’m gonna kill you, Castellan!” You shout, “You’re dead! Do you hear me? You're dead!”

Clarisse set you down fifteen feet from Luke (what she deemed a safe distance to talk some sense into you without you going on a blood-lust rampage for the Hermes boy).

“In the name of Olympus, what in the world is wrong with you?”

You scoffed, “What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with me? I think you should be asking that question to that thieving piece of-” It was at that moment that you heard Chiron clear his throat, and you shrank back, swallowing your insult.

Luke approached you with an amused grin, hands raised in the air. He was mocking you. Of course he was, you wouldn’t expect anything less from him.

“As soon as I get my hands on you, I’m gonna claw your eyes out, Castellan.” You seeth.

He tsked, tilting his head slightly, “And a good morning to you too, Chaos.”

Your jaw clenched as every fibre in your body told you to beat the boy before you into a pulp.

“Clarisse,” you whine, “please let me separate his stupid face from this hideous body.”

Clarisse shakes her head to tell you “no.”

You sigh, defeated.

Luke curls an arm around your shoulder, “Oh come on, Chaos, don’t you want another chance to win back your glory?”

You hated the boy before you. You hated him and you don’t think you’d mind it one bit if he so happened to fall off a cliff to his impending death. In fact, you think that you might even enjoy the show.

Clarisse rolled her eyes at the both of you, “Enough! You two need to stop this insufferable fighting and start focusing on the quest, because if you two don’t suck it up and start at least tolerating each other, I have absolutely no problem choosing two other skilled half-bloods to replace you.”

At this you and Luke instantly shut your mouths and glanced at each other.

Then it hit you, he wanted this as much as you did.

“Good.” Clarisse said, “Now I want both of you to hug it out and shake hands, promising that you’ll be on your best behaviour for my quest.”

You furrowed your brows, mouth agape. “Hug it out? Clarisse are you serious?”

“Absolutely.” She replied, pointedly.

Luke cocked his head, “You’ve got to be joking. It’s not like we’re five.”

The Ares kid raised her eyebrows in a taunting expression, “Are you sure about that?”

Luke rolled his eyes.

“K, let’s go now, stop tryna be the mediator Clarisse. Chaos and I are not “hugging it out” like pre-schoolers.” He spoke, a hint of annoyance coating his tone.

“Um sorry to break it to you buddy, but if you two wanna come on this quest with me then you better start doing as I say.”

Clarisse was defiantly being manipulative. She was the one who picked the two of you and now she was placing all these conditions on your shoulders.

After a minute of silence, Luke consented, rolling his eyes again. “Come here my sweet little, Chaos.” He said in an exaggerated voice like he was talking to a baby.

You glared at Clarisse, before trudging over to Luke, who wrapped his arms securely behind your neck, burying you into his chest. When you didn’t reciprocate he brought his lips to hover over your ear, “Chaos, you gotta at least pretend to like me, or else big scary Clarisse here is gonna send you back, and I know you don’t want that, do you?” His whispers sent shivers down your shoulders and eventually, (after a harsh glare from Clarisse) you conseeded and wrapped your arms around Luke’s waist.

His head practically nuzzled your hair and you could’ve sworn you heard him sigh in contentment.

To emphasize how much you two would get along Luke slowly began rocking side to side while continuing to keep his hold on you.

Clarisse smiled in approval.

You stood on your tippy toes and even then you barely reached his ear, “Luke,” you whispered.

“Yes, Chaos?” He asked gently.

“I still hate you.” And with that, you pushed him back. He stumbled a little before quickly regaining his footing.

“I wouldn’t expect any less.” He mumbled under his breath.

As you ran to catch up with Clarisse, Luke stood still, because whatever happened he knew that this quest was going to challenge him beyond belief.

----

A/n This is more of a filler chapter so hang in there for the next update <3

Tag list: @motorsp0rt @astronomical-admonition @edenssworld @sillychloe @viennasaysstuff @esposadomd @bogbutteronmycroissant @moonykai @sflame15-blog @hoesindifferentshows @gloryekaterina @dakotali @notjustsomeblonde @silkenthusiasts @kanej-and-wesper-supremacy @ren-isdone @ashisabitgay @tsukiko26 @niktwazny303 @idgxitciycouv

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arianamarshall · 2 months

Note

Hi could you please write an Ares x reader where they have a relationship that ends in them having a child and he’s just an ass about it like he would be. Sorry I don’t know if this was specific enough :/

Okay, maybe I didn't put the kind of emotion you wanted here, sorry.

warnings: mention of an abusive relationship, ares x reader, pregnancy, ares is a typical idiot, sad but with a bit of comfort.

On the busy streets of modern-day New York, amidst the towering skyscrapers and the constant hum of urban life, Ares, the god of war, has left you. It wouldn't be the first time he acted unpredictably, he was impossible, uncontrollable, but it was always good to be with him, despite the screams, the pain, the moments he made you beg or cry.

But everything that was broken could be fixed, his mother used to teach him about that, about how couples could restore each other, love always prevailed. It should be like this, your love should have no limits, your devotion for him, Ares should love you more than anything, but some habits would never be left aside.

Whether by a beautiful goddess or a baby, you were destined to fall apart.

You were sitting on top of the roof of your building when you decided to tell him. He blamed himself more than he blamed you, but it still hurt to remember how the words came out of him on a summer night.

Ares was already on his feet, his features contorted in disgust as he said, "I have no interest in playing house with you."

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving you alone on the roof, the world seeming to fall apart at his feet.

How could you have been so foolish to believe that someone like Ares could truly care for you? it had been nothing more than a passing distraction for him, a temporary escape from the “dullness” of his immortal existence.

But now, as you protectively cradled your unborn child against your chest, you promised to do whatever was necessary to ensure that they would never have to suffer at the hands of their cruel father.

It was strange when time passed like a ghostly mist, there was never any trace of his presence again, any signs of Ares ever being in his home were erased by his son's growth. It looked ridiculous, but he had his eyes, expressive, always seeming to carry an unexplored anger.

His twelve years arrived quickly, so, with his satyr protector, you and your son departed in the same way as his father, but with only one difference, he would return when the summer was over.

26/03 • mood: sad

#ares x reader #pjo x reader #pjo x you #pjo #percy jackson #percy jackson x reader #ares god of war #anabeth chase #clarisse la rue #luke castellan

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wheres-mylove · 10 months

Text

damsel in distress | sihtric kjartansson x fem!reader

Summary: Sihtric arrives in Winchester for Aethelflaed’s wedding, and finds a princess for himself by the way - the bride’s younger sister with a feisty temper and an overpowering desire to break Aethelred's nose. But there’s a little more to the story than just that.

Disclaimer: English isn’t my first language!

Word count: 2.9k

The young warrior stared at the ground, not daring to look his lord in the eye. He had warned him. Everyone had.

“She's gone?” Uhtred asked, trying out a sympathetic tone, realizing it was not the time to mock his friend's misplaced feelings.

“Yes, my lord,” Sihtric confirmed quietly. “The silver too, before you question me about it. Gone with her.”

“No woman, no silver,” Uhtred summarized and crossed his arms over his chest. “Just so we're clear, I would have agreed to the marriage. Suffer if you're foolish. But not for too long. You need to find someone decent.”

“We would have named our first son Uhtred, lord,” he said, absentmindedly staring ahead.

“No, you would not,” the older warrior replied, visibly grimacing.

“It doesn't matter now,” Sihtric muttered, earning a comforting pat on the shoulder and a reassuring smile from Uhtred.

“Find Finan, we'll meet in the main square.”

Sihtric Kjartansson walked gloomily ahead, pondering why he had such bad luck in life. He took out his anger on a few pebbles scattered on the dusty road. The gods were not too kind when it came to sending him a woman who...

“Sorry, sorry!” He heard a girl's voice behind him and several other irritated grunts or a hushed 'Watch out.' He turned his head slightly and it was a miracle he avoided colliding with a cloaked figure in a visible hurry.

“If you'll excuse me, lord,” the girl quickly spoke, not even bothering to give him a passing glance, squeezing past him and running into a narrow passage between a stable and a nearby dwelling.

Sihtric furrowed his brow and observed the stranger leaning against the wall, anxiously looking towards the main street. With her slightly tilted hood, he was certain she was a young woman, clearly running away from something or someone.

What was he if not a hero?

“My lady,” he began, but faltered at the sight of her angry gaze.

“Are you crazy? Go away,” she snapped, waving her hand at him dismissively. The hood fell back, revealing the girl's face in all its glory.

Sihtric didn't know what to do. The lady was beautiful. But also pissed off.

“God, you idiot,” the girl said with a heavy sigh. Then she grabbed his arm forcefully, pulling him into a dark alley with her and positioning him with his back to the street.

Sihtric still didn't quite understand what was happening. Being pushed around by a mad gorgeous woman was not part of his plans for today. He didn't have any plans at all since the last one ran off with the remnants of his wealth.

“If someone is hiding, they have a reason for it and don't want someone standing in front of them, announcing it to the world,” she scolded him like a disobedient child, and Sihtric felt himself blushing.

“Right. Makes sense. I apologize, my lady,” he stammered, not taking his eyes off her.

She was even more beautiful up close.

“Discreetly look behind you and see if a monk is coming this way,” she instructed him gravely, to which he gave her a half-surprised, half-amused look.

“A monk is leading the chase?”

“Yes, you see, I'm a witch, and I was about to be burned at the stake this afternoon.”

Sihtric chuckled softly, but he complied with her request. He thought the girl was joking, but indeed, a monk was heading their way. Slightly bewildered but definitely annoyed, he was looking around vigilantly.

“Are you really a witch?” Sihtric suddenly asked with a hint of uncertainty.

“I sacrifice boys like you,” she replied without a trace of a smile, but mischievous sparks danced in her eyes. He smirked. “But seriously, you might come in handy. The holy man won't sniff around here for long. Let’s make him look away.”

She threw her arms around his neck, and without hesitation, Sihtric placed his hands on her hips.

Only after a few heartbeats did the absurdity of the situation dawn on him. He stood very close in a dark alley with a girl whose name he didn't know, protecting her from the wrath of a monk.

“But honestly, what about your troubles?” he asked gently.

“Brother Ceolwulf sometimes gives me calligraphy lessons. My father says I scribble rather terribly. I ran away to avoid that pleasure. And apparently, Lord Aethelred is due to arrive soon,” she almost spat the name as if it left a foul taste. “Maybe I'll go see that prick. Quite a commotion over a simple farce.”

“You don't fancy lords from Mercia and royal weddings, my lady?”

The girl didn't answer; instead, she scrutinized Sihtric intently. He felt a wave of embarrassment under the piercing gaze of her sharp eyes.

“And what business does a Dane have here?” she asked after a while, smiling slightly at the sight of his blush. Brother Ceolwulf flashed behind Sihtric, so she tightened her grip and rested her head on his chest. The warrior held his breath. A stream of muffled words reached him. “No, no, you can talk; that rascal is just behind you. You could also use a bath, you know? Great, he went searching on the other side. You could also tell me your name, for the sake of appearances and decency.”

“I'm Sihtric, lady,” he said with a laugh, which (Y/N) not only heard but also felt. “Together with my lord Uhtred, we arrived…”

“Uhtred?” the girl interrupted, raising her head with surprise. “You serve Uhtred?”

“Do you know him?” Sihtric tilted his head, intrigued.

“Oh, I'm in trouble,” she said barely audible, more to herself than to him. “I have to go. I apologize for the assault.”

She took a few steps back before Sihtric panicked. He didn't know her name. He didn't know where to find her. And he definitely wanted to see her again.

“What's your name, lady?” he called after her, but she had already blended into the crowd heading to the main square. He wasn't sure if she had gone to greet Aethelred. Even if she had, he wouldn't find her in that mass.

Brother Ceolwulf came to the same conclusion. The reprimand for the princess of Wessex would have to wait.

The delicate fabric of her blue dress fluttered with each touch of the wind as she gracefully crossed the courtyard. They strolled towards the main hall.

“I only have two options: jump out the window or become a nun,” Princess (Y/N) announced in a calm manner.

“Only jump out the window, my dear,” Father Beocca specified. “Nuns would chase you with crosses and torches in their hands.”

(Y/N) looked at the priest. He had an amused expression. And a soft spot for the princess. According to Alfred's commands, he shouldn't tolerate certain behaviors and opinions. But how dull it would be if he asked her to stifle her carefreeness and restrain her sharp tongue.

“I was just praying a moment ago.”

“Yes, with the intention of our heavenly father making your sister run away from the altar.”

Aethelflaed didn't run away from the altar. She paid no mind to her sister's efforts, who, with sheer willpower, tried to steer her away from it. (Y/N) saw that the bride was enchanted by her groom, and she wanted nothing but all the happiness this world could fit for her. But something in the back of her mind warned her about Aethelred. An unbearable premonition. She blinked a few times, telling herself that she simply didn't consider any man worthy of her dearest sister's hand.

She scanned the gathered guests with her gaze. At the back of the hall, she spotted Uhtred. She nodded at him slightly. He raised an eyebrow with a smile. They had last seen each other when she was a little girl and kicked him in the leg. She wondered if he still limps.

And then she noticed Sihtric.

The warrior paled the moment he saw her standing side by side with the king.

His stranger. The king's daughter. The princess.

Only he could have such damn luck.

“It's her. The girl I told you about. It's her!” He nudged Finan's arm, to which the latter chuckled.

“Sure. Your whole story sounds shady already. Don't involve noble families in it.”

“I'm telling the truth!”

“I believe ya. Yesterday, for example, when little ol’ me was drinking beer with king Alfred…”

Sihtric sighed, but he didn't try to convince his friend anymore. He didn't register the entrance of the bride or a word spoken during the ceremony, and especially not Finan's mocking. His eyes were fixed on the princess in the blue gown. He held his breath when she finally looked at him. She smiled faintly but immediately averted her gaze, with a violent blush on her cheeks.

Sihtric Kjartansson felt his heart beat stronger.

Uhtred embraced the princess with laughter, still wondering how she had transformed so quickly from a snotty child into a breathtaking woman.

Sihtric paid special attention to that breathtaking part, as he was having trouble with that.

“The older you get, the uglier you become. Good to see you, Uhtred,” she greeted him politely. The man snorted and gestured towards his companions.

“Princess (Y/N), these are my friends…”

“Sihtric,” she greeted, bowing her head. He smiled widely, and Finan's jaw dropped, before he realized he should probably bow too. The idiot wasn't lying. Unbelievable.

“Do you know each other?” Uhtred furrowed his brow, looking at the young Dane, then at the princess. “Is there something I don't know?”

“Yes, we've been secret lovers for the past year,” she replied, rolling her eyes. Sihtric's face took on various shades of red, much to Finan's delight.

“You haven't changed at all,” Uhtred commented with a wave of his hand.

“I would be more at ease if this reception wasn't so dull,” she said, wistfully glancing at the cup in Uhtred's hand. “Is he watching?”

Uhtred glanced at the king and nodded. (Y/N) groaned.

“So, after Edward, it's your turn?” Uhtred inquired, earning himself a murderous glance from the princess.

“He'll probably be a twat or at least hundred years old,” she grumbled in disappointment. “Beocca presented me with a list of potential candidates. About each one, he says they are pious, as if I were looking for a personal priest and not a husband. Why can't he say that one of them is kind? Wise? Or handsome.”

She shifted her gaze to Sihtric and smiled mischieviously.

“We only hope to be invited to your wedding, Princess,” Finan laughed, observing his friend's bashful demeanor. "I'm keeping my fingers crossed that he'll be no older than ninety-nine.”

“That's kind of you. By the way, Sihtric, did you take that bath-”

“Princess!” Father Beocca called out as he passed by. “Maybe nunnery isn't the worst idea.”

Humorous remarks and a grin froze on her lips when (Y/N) looked into her sister's eyes. The food tray nearly slipped from her hands.

Aethelflaed didn't have to say anything. She didn't have to scream or complain about her misfortune. (Y/N) understood everything from that one look and felt the unpleasant sting of tears.

“I will kill him,” she declared forcefully, slamming the tray onto the wooden table with a loud bang. “I will kill that arse.”

“(Y/N), please...” Aethelflaed whispered. “It won't do any good. And I am capable of handling it myself.”

“You shouldn't even say that,” her sister protested, getting closer and gently placing her hands on Aethelflaed's cheeks. They were wet. “It's alright, sweetheart, it's alright.”

She planted a kiss on the top of her head and headed towards the door.

“Don't tell anyone, (Y/N). Especially not father,” she begged, getting up.

“I'll only speak to those who already know,” (Y/N) replied, barely containing her anger towards Aethelflaed's pathetic husband. “You're the Princess of Wessex, for God's sake. You're his woman, and he shouldn't treat you like this. He won't have a cock if he lays a hand on you again, trust me.”

“You'll get into trouble, (Y/N),” Aethelflaed warned, shaking her head nervously. “He can hurt you as well-”

The princess didn't listen, for she had already left the chamber. Blind rage consumed her, but so did a sadness so great that it was even more dangerous than her anger. She knew there was something wrong with him. She shouldn't have allowed this marriage to happen.

She should have protected her sister.

Aethelred appeared just in time. He strode down the corridor, his posture straight, absentmindedly trailing his hand along one of the tapestries.

“Lord Aethelred,” she snarled, making no effort to be polite. “I was hoping to have a word with you.”

The man turned slowly, bestowing upon her the sweetest and most deceitful smile.

“Little princess.”

(Y/N) tried to calm herself, but she wasn't making much progress.

“Let's get to the point,” she hissed, finally getting Aethelred to reveal his true face from behind the mask he wore daily at the royal court. “I saw my sister and the state she's in. I will not tolerate such insolence or cruelty. Who do you think you are? Hurt her again and I...”

That pile of shit started laughing.

“Terrifying is the barking of an angry bitch.” He took a few lazy steps in her direction. “I almost pissed myself in fear.”

“And you should, because I promise that...”

Aethelred rushed forward, pressing her against the wall with a hand around her throat.

“Well, what? What will you do? Maybe you'll switch places with her to spice up this tedious life of mine a little bit."

Sihtric wandered through the palace, looking for lord Uhtred his excuse, but in reality he hoped for an encounter with the princess. They were about to head out from Winchester soon. Leaving without saying goodbye was not something he wanted.

He found them just in time as (Y/N) pushed Aethelred back with all her might and punched him in the face. They all heard the unmistakable crunching sound.

Lord of Mercia was trying to regain his balance, clinging to his bloody face in shock.

“You whore,” he snapped, but Sihtric was already nearby, placing his hand warningly on the axe.

“Hope I misheard something,” he said to Aethelred, voice dripping with venom, and then looked at the princess. “Are you alright?”

“She broke my nose, of course she’s fine,” the man snorted, trying to stop the flow of blood. “You will answer for it. Just wait. And your heathen friends won’t rush to your rescue, I assure you.”

(Y/N) took a deep breath, holding on to the fist that struck Aethelred. She watched him leave with an absent look in her eyes, and then as if she finally registered Sihtric's presence.

If he had come a few moments earlier, he'd surely fling himself at that arsehole in her defense. But it turns out she was perfectly able to fight back. Sihtric felt a sudden surge of admiration and respect for the princess in a beautifully embroidered dress, who did not hesitate to throw a punch.

“Are you sure he didn’t do anything to you? Shall I go after him?” he asked, but instead of answering, (Y/N) slid slowly down the wall. Sihtric crouched beside her, worried as never before. He gently held the injured hand. He raised her bruised knuckles to his lips, but left only the ghost of touch on them. “Princess?”

“He hurt her,” (Y/N) sobbed helplessly. She wasn't supposed to tell anyone, but she had a feeling Sihtric would know how to keep a secret. “He hurt her and he will hurt her again, and there’s nothing I can do. He will hide behind his title, behind his lands, wealth and nobility. He was right. I can't do anything."

She was shaken by a wave of tears, and Sihtric instinctively embraced her with one arm and supported the back of her head with the other. She cried there on the cold floor, in the arms of a warrior who couldn't stand the sight.

He knew what was going on. And his heart ached at the thought.

“You were very brave,” he whispered, letting her lean on his chest. “Others would look away. You confronted him. You are a brave, brave girl.”

He kept saying it like a mantra, holding her in his arms until the crying subsided. He wiped the tears from her face with the thumb of his hand when she finally lifted her head.

“I won’t run away from that either,” she whispered in a faint voice. Sihtric raised his eyebrows in a questioning gesture. “I can laugh about it and put it off, but I’m just a woman with a cursed title before my name. They'll hand me over to a man I won't choose. And he will have the right to violence as soon as we tie the knot.”

Sihtric shook his head. This fate wasn’t meant for her. There was strength and courage in this lady’s heart that demanded freedom. And demanded love, the wild and untamed kind.

“It can not be like that. I won’t allow it.”

“You don’t have much power in this matter, Sihtric. You don’t make the rules.”

“Let me decide for myself.”

He looked into the eyes of the princess and knew that the battle he would have to face was beyond his means. The only witnesses to this promise were the faces on the ancient tapestries. Men's faces behind unbreakable laws, traditions and customs.

But Sihtric Kjartansson was a warrior. And if there’s one thing that warriors can do, they can fight.

#sihtric #sihtric kjartansson #sihtric the last kingdom #sihtric x reader #sihtric fanfiction #sihtric kjartansson x reader #the last kingdom #the last kingdom fanfiction #sihtric imagine

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florestmoon · 2 years

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Just His Luck. (Eddie Munson x Reader)

Previous. <> Next.

Summary: Eddie comes to a realization after a drug deal with Chrissy. As he struggles with this, he wasn’t sure why you began to pull away from him, afraid that you can tell exactly how he feels.

Warnings: Eddie’s POV. Slowww burn friends to lovers. Yeah still lots of angst because I love making y’all suffer these two idiots.

Word count: 7.5k?

A/N: my biggest writing flaw is that I hate writing fast pace. When I have an idea, I make sure to focus on small details and I will drag it the fuck out because I read slow burn fanfics and books the size of my head since the age 12 . That being said, I didn’t end this the way i originally thought. So maybe, MAYBE, it’ll be 4 parts. I’m sorry to those who hate that haha. Forgive me <3 THANK YOU FOR THE SUPPORT LETS GO.

Eddie use to never consider himself a lucky person.

He didn’t think he could be considered a lucky person when his father had made it clear how much he couldn’t care less about his own son. His drunken rants still a vivid memory.

Someone who’s lucky didn’t have to be forced out his childhood home and hike all the way to another town to find an uncle he wasn’t even sure would take him in.

A lucky person didn’t grow up being branded a freak and tormented by most of his classmates for something as simple as playing a fantasy game and listening to heavier music. A lucky person didn’t rely on selling drugs in order to support his uncle, and that said side hustle only adding a bigger target on his back in the small town.

That and many more shitty experiences that made up his life should be enough proof that he, Eddie Munson, was not lucky.

But then there’s you.

You being a part of his life overshadows all the bad luck that followed him. Eddie would go through it all again, his shitty childhood and the very hot and long walk from his own hometown to Hawkins, now that he knows you were waiting to enter his life the moment he stepped foot into that trailer park.

He remembers clearly the overalls you wore when you jumped up from the bike you were sitting on, when Uncle Wayne encouraged him to go outside after a day settling in his new home. You ran to him and introduced yourself with a smile that showed a missing tooth.

That was the moment he knew he experienced his first true luck.

Since then, Eddie could safely say he was a lucky person with the way you stuck by his side. It didn’t matter if his days contained the looks of disgust that were thrown his way, when he knew he would see you at the end of it.

Kind eyes, rid of any judgement, waiting for him.

He really is a lucky person, even if your stressed voice was pushing for a headache that morning.

“Eddie, can you please turn that music down. It’s not letting me see clearly!”You ask desperately from the passenger seat, before twisting your body to look at the back of his van to return looking through the piles of cassettes he had saved.

He laughs but continues to slam his palm on the steering wheel to the music. “I need you to rethink that sentence.”

“Eddie.” You warn and from the tone of your voice, Eddie quickly shuts off the music. You hum happily and return to your search in the mess of his van. After a few moments of you cussing under your breath, Eddie’s name being thrown there a few times and he has to refrain from slamming the breaks, before you pull yourself back into your seat.

“I shouldn’t even be letting you ruin that poor kids ears.” He states once he sees a cassette being shoved into your bag. “Lucas deserves one from my own personal collection.”

“Ha. Ha.” You roll your eyes and he watches you from the corner of his eye, seeing you place your feet up on his dashboard. “I know Lucas will like it. It’ll cheer him up and encourage him before the big game tonight.“

“Right, the game.” Eddie recalls, focusing back on the road. “I wonder what those idiots will tell me today at lunch.”

You hold in a laugh as he continues, “I know they’ll be scared to tell me. I can see their faces already,”

“Aw don’t be mean.” You pout cutely, placing your elbow on the passenger door and looking towards him. “They look up to you, and hate disappointing you. That’s why it’s taken so long to come clean.”

“It’s not being mean” Eddie shakes his head, “I’m not going to be the one to look for a replacement. And I’m not going to reschedule the campaign.” He adds quickly with a pointed look at you that is returned by you sticking your tongue out.

Brat. He thinks fondly. “Anyway, they need to figure that out.”

“Mhm, can’t wait to see them running out like headless chickens trying to find anyone willing to play.”

Eddie shrugs at that. Despite his annoyance at Lucas being taken by the dark side, Jason and his gang, he didn’t actually have hard feelings towards the kid. Who was he to tell him to not pursue something he enjoyed doing? It would be hypocritical of him. And he was mostly annoyed with Dustin and Mike, who haven’t said anything. “They’ll figure it out.”

He reaches over to turn up the music a bit now that you were no longer on the edge of biting his head, something he admits to enjoying a little bit too much. He remembers to mention, “Oh, you wanna hit up the diner to pass time after school?”

“Oh yes!” You sit up, looking at him excitedly. “Can we get a strawberry shake? I’ve been craving that all night.”

Eddie can’t stop the smile as he nods, pulling into Hawkin’s High parking lot. “How can I deny you from that?”

It was a shocker to Eddie when he was approached by Chrissy before he made it to the cafeteria that day. He has his fair share of customers that make up Hawkin’s popular kids. They were the ones to pay the most so he never rejected their offers, even if they later would spit nasty words to him in the hallways.

He never thought he would see the day Chrissy Cunningham would be asking for him.

But money is money. It wouldn’t hurt to see what the deal was. So he waited for the last 10 minutes of the lunch period, telling you and making you wait outside the woods. You complained about coming along but he wanted to play it safe.

He wasn’t fond of bringing you along to his deals. It’s not that he didn’t want you by his side, he did, but there’s been way too many times where his customers would direct their anger of prices to him or you. He didn’t want you to see that, or even deal with it.

“Don’t scare her off Eddie. I know she’s Jason’s girlfriend but she’s actually really nice! So, don’t go doing your usual sneaking up on others and being intimidating, remember that one time you got a bloody nose from it and -“

Eddie hands you his half finished soda can he bought from the vending machine to stop your anxious rambling.

You already finished the one he bought you, but you stopped your monologue and took a sip, content. It was so easy for Eddie to be able to keep you happy and distracted. It made him feel good. “I won’t. Wait for me here, okay?”

——

Chrissy seemed to be distracted when he walked up to the usual spot. Her eyes staring off the distance as he comes up behind her, “Hey.”

He thought his voice was soft enough, but she jumped in her spot and turned around towards him. Big eyes surprised before she lets out a breathless chuckle , holding her arm.

“Woah.” So much for listening to your advice. He holds his hands up. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

The blonde shakes her head, rubbing her shoulder and throwing him a quick smile before sitting down on the picnic table. “No I should have been paying attention. I was zoned out.”

Eddie nods before moving to sit across the table, placing the metal lunchbox on the table between them. Chrissy plays with the sleeve of her sweater as Eddie opens the box to reveal the bags of weed.

“So..” she stammers, looking between Eddie and his box. “How does this work exactly?”

“Oh you know, like any other transaction.” Eddie watches her, “except cash only, and uh, for obvious reasons. “ he tilts his head, “No receipts.”

She nods along before he holds a bag towards her, “I’ll do you a half ounce for, uh..20. What do you say?”

Chrissy stares at the bag, then sighs and leans forward to cross her arms on top of the wooden table. She glances behind her as though expecting someone to show up.

Eddie couldn’t help but feel a bit defensive. Looking past her before he shuts the top down. “Look, uh, I’m starting to get a bit worried here. I really hope this isn’t some set up.”

He thinks back to you waiting for him at the entrance to the woods. What if they saw you there first?

Chrissy looks at him stunned and shakes her head. “No! No, of course not.” She bites her lip then sags her shoulders. “It’s nothing like that.”

“You afraid your boyfriends going to pop up and catch you doing a drug deal with Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson?” He tries to keep the venom from his voice. “Not up to deal with that right now.”

“No really, its-its not that. He’s not even my boyfriend.” She adds, looking at Eddie a bit exasperated. “Not right now? Anyway, I don’t know..”

Eddie mouth forms an ‘o’. He wasn’t expecting that. Chrissy looked back down at her hands and let out another sighs.

“Oh. Well shit.” He laughs awkwardly and leans against his palm. “Uh, sorry about that? Uh..” he shrugs at her when she looks at him again. “I’m kinda surprised, didn’t he express his undying love for you this morning at the prep rally.”

She smiles sadly as she recalls that earlier morning and nods, “It was an argument after. He gets really overprotective. He didn’t like me agreeing to go to a party with a few friends and one thing lead to another and,” she does a hand motion, “It got too much, and I said I wanted a break.”

He hums, tapping his finger on the table before shaking his head. “Oh so he’s that type. Cant say I’m surprised with how he carries himself.”

Chrissy smiles at that, “Yeah. I’m just still kinda sad about it, he means well. But I’m not fragile or anything..so I thought to try something..to make me not think so much about it and go against what he says. Is that stupid?” She asks timidly.

“No. Not at all. Happens to all of us.” He says, opening the lunch box back up. “Uh I do sell blunts, it’s pre rolled and all. It’ll be easier for you to smoke. Seeing as this is your first time..”

He rummages through the box then clicks his tongue. He forgot he smoked his last one that he had in his box with you last night. “Problem is I only have them back in my trailer. So if you really want, you can drop by tonight..or I’ll bring them tomorrow.”

“I have no where to be after the game anyway.” She shrugs, nudging a stick against the dirt under the table with her shoe. “I was suppose to be with Jason, but..”

“Okay, cool.” He looks down at the lunchbox then decided to try to a bit more comforting, with the way she still looked so down. “If it makes you feel any better. He may be a total dick. But it’s disgustingly clear he uh loves you.”

Chrissy smiles fondly at that. Eddie continued, feeling weird he was even talking on behalf of someone he hated, “and uh, sometimes people are very protective over people they care about and shit. I definitely don’t let the one I care about touch half the stash I sell.”

“Y/N?” She asks, seeming to have perk up a little bit. No longer slouching and her expression was lifting, feeling more comfortable with him.

Eddie smiles at your name, feeling warm. “Yeah. Y/N” He fiddles with the lighter he had taken out of the box moments prior. “But uh anyway. I’m sure you and Jason will get back together in no time, And you’ll be back to being Hawkins favorite Queen and King.”

He says the last part more sarcastically than he meant too, but Chrissy either didn’t notice or didn’t mind because she only blushes.

“I don’t think we could take you and y/n spots though. In being the cutest couple .” She teases lightly after a moment. Eddie freezing in his seat as he registers words, the lighter slipping from between his fingers. . “I always thought you two were so cute. How long have you been together?”

Together.

Him and y/n together.

“W-what..what?!” His laughs nervously, getting up from his seat once he felt his body back in his control. “Couple... Couple? We aren’t a couple.”

Eddie doesn’t know why but the idea had his heart beating fast and face flushing. Couple. You and him, a couple.

Why did he suddenly feel like he couldn’t breathe?

“Oh..” Chrissy frowns again, watching him begin to pace. “I’m sorry. I thought you were.”

“No. No, nope,” he shakes his head fast, looking around the woods as though he was searching for answer. “I mean, she’s my best friend. I’m her best friend. No wayyy man.”

He looks back at Chrissy who was watching him. Eddie notices that the confused expression slowly beginning to turn into an amused smile but hid it behind her sleeve as she looks at Eddie in a way that was making him freak out more.

“What? What’s that look for?” He walks towards the table and leans his hand against the surface. “I-I really don’t like that look Chrissy.”

“I didn’t give you a look, Eddie”

“Yes you did. You’re looking at me like..you know something I don’t!” He pushed himself away from the table again and walks away from the table.

Okay he needed to chill out. This is normal. A lot of best friends can be mistaken for a couple. He seen it happen with Steve and Robin. The amount of times Robin would deny it and act disgusted was too much for her to not be telling the truth anyway.

So he shouldn’t be feeling so surprised that Chrissy had thought that. It just proves you both were that close.

You both were definitely closer than Robin and Steve, that’s for sure. He knows that.

What he doesn’t know is why he feels his palms were beginning to sweat. He stammers through his thoughts.

“We can’t be dating. That’s ridiculous.”

“Okay” She says simply.

“Yeah. Because we’re best friends.” He says again, to remind himself. “Completely platonic. And it would be crazy for that to change? It’s not like she would even see me anything other than a best friend. So really, it’s impossible. What you’re saying is highlyyy impossible.”

He mumbles, ignoring how the thought bugged him a bit, shaking his head. “Yeah.” He finally says it firmly. That conversation was over.

He’s barely aware of the faint sound of the bell ringing, “So. Uh, I’ll just see you tonight then. You can ride with me and y/n…who’s my best friend.”

Chrissy smiles sweetly and nodded. “Okay.”

—

Chrissy walked ahead and he came out the woods a few steps behind. You waved at Chrissy as she walked by before returning to a weird hop in place motion as you turned towards Eddie. He raised his eyebrow.

“Eddie you took so damn long and I feel like I’m going to pee myself because you thought it was a good idea to let me have two sodas, and we’re going to be even more late to class!” You complain, grabbing his wrist and pulling him along towards the school building. “Have you seen the way those bathrooms fill up ? It’s a like jungle in there!”

He didn’t pay a bit too much attention to the way your hand was wrapping around his wrist, before you eventually linked both your arms together. Because that was normal. You both were always touchy with each other, so it shouldn’t matter. It wasn’t a big deal.

And it wasn’t a big deal the way you were leaning in his space while you both sat in class after. Your body basically leaning across his lap as you stared down at the tic tac toe game he won fair and square. You glared down at his notebook before pulling away with an huff.

“Nuh uh, I don’t remember you putting that X . You did that when I was distracted.”

“That was my first turn. You told me to put it there because you accused me of using a cheating method before.”

“You’re so lying”

“Just admit it, I’m a master at tic tac toe.” He grins, flicking your forehead to push your buttons even more. “A man of many skills” You roll your eyes. “You could never beat me.”

“You underestimate me for the last time, Munson.” You begin drawing the 30th set of lines and he couldn’t stop himself from staring at the side of your face as you thought hard on your first move.

A couple.

Eddie may have had fleeting thoughts about dating you before. Ones he always denied and pushed down because he never wanted for it to see the light of day. He may believe he’s lucky with you being his best friend, but he wasn’t insane. He couldn’t have that much luck in his life.

And he would never risk ruining the chance of that luck he does have. He never wants to lose it.

But Chrissy’s damn words kept echoing, confirming his secret fantasy that he wanted to be reality. And all those thoughts wouldn’t stop streaming in. Like Chrissy’s simple mistake broke the dam that was holding it all in.

Cutest couple.

You smiled happily when he let you win for the first time. Writing a 1-30 on top of the page proudly when he looks towards Chrissy who was sat a few seats towards the side of the classroom, and she was already glancing towards you both. She flashed him a knowing look, and he looked away. The blush back on his cheeks.

Oh he was so fucked.

You both did everything together. There wasn’t a time where residents in Hawkins wouldn’t see you both raiding a corner store for late night snacks, or driving around town blasting his music enough for complaints to be filed.

One quick knock at each other’s windows and you both were off to whatever was desired that day or night.

So he couldn’t understand why Gareth had invited only you out to pizza. When everyone knows you and Eddie go everywhere together. It’s common fucking knowledge for Christ sake.

And why didn’t you tell him beforehand?

“Well, I mean, you have to take Chrissy right?” you had argued.

He felt like a little kid that was told no for the first time when you dismissed him after, being forced to watch you leave the room behind Gareth. He won’t admit to anyone that he glared daggers at the brunettes head when he drove away with you in his car.

You should had been in Eddie’s van.

If you really wanted pizza, why didn’t you tell him and he would have given Chrissy her blunts then take you himself. You didn’t need Gareth when you had him!

Chrissy was quiet in the car ride, looking curiously through the tapes. She seemed to be carefully reading through the playlists when he finally broke.

“Okay so..you know how you mentioned about you thinking me and y/n being a couple?” He reminds her which she nods to, “was there..is there something that makes you think that?”

She seems to think for a moment, placing the cassette on her lap. “Well. You both are so comfortable with each other. The way you look at each other too, I remember Jason mentioning how lovesick you looked when we would pass you two in the hallway. And how..” she hesitates but giggles, “you kinda look like a lost puppy following her around.”

Lovesick. Lost puppy.

“Oh Jesus Christ, I’m so screwed.” He groans as he tightens his grip on the steering wheel. “Do you realize what you’ve done?”

“You asked Eddie”

“I didn’t think I was that obvious.” Eddie really is itching to grab a cigarette right now. “I thought, you know, I would never think about this. But then you go saying we were a couple..and im looking at y/n, thinking I don’t want to just look like one, I want us to be one. Shit, shit!.” He curses under his breath and finally gives in, reaching into his pocket with one hand.

“You’re making it seem like a bad thing, Eddie.” She says softly.

“It is. I’m her best friend and I was staring at her in class like some creep, you saw it.” He sticks the cigarette in his mouth keeping his eye on the road. “Now I’m really really pissed that I wasn’t invited to that..pizza date.”

He says the last word in disgust before he can stop himself. The jealousy was making its way through his veins and he hated it. Eddie shakes his head, pointing at himself. “See, this is not good.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” she starts, “You’re not the only one who looks lovesick.”

“What? Are you..” he stops trying to flick the lighter in hand on to look at her. “Does y/n look at me that way? Does..Nah, now you’re just pulling my leg now man.”

Chrissy hums, turning her gaze towards the window.

Eddie couldn’t help but feel some excitement rush through him. He speaks around the cigarette. “Really?”

“I see the way she looks at you.” Chrissy replies carefully , “I don’t think you’re the only one who has pushed down any feelings.”

A spark was ignited inside him. It matched the lighter in his hand as he quickly brings it to the end of his cigarette. He takes a huge drag to try to calm his jitter of nerves.

“Shit.” He blows out the smoke, opening the windows before he did so. “What the hell am I suppose to do?”

“Tell her how you feel.”

“Tell her- really? I can barely collect my thoughts right now!” He rubs his cheek sighing, growing frustrated.

“Maybe a date?” She suggests. “Take her to the diner next to Family Video.”

“We go there every week.”

“Umm. Oh! The bowling alley”

“She hates bowling. Nearly broke my ankle when it was her turn and I wasn’t even in front of her.”

“Okay. A picnic? That can be romantic.”

“It is? We had one a few weeks back.”

Chrissy sighs.

“The movies?”

“We’re banned. We either go to another town or watch a movie in my trailer.”

“Uh okay.., to lovers lake?”

“We go there.” He blushes, “We always sit in the back of my van and drink slushees.”

Chrissy tries not to smile. “How could I ever think you both were dating. That’s impossible, right?”

Eddie groans but nods, completely understanding now.

—

“Hey Gareth!” Eddie smile was tight as he slammed his friend’s locker closed before he was done putting his book away. “How was that pizza last night, hm?”

Gareth only looks up at his band mate and tries to mask his annoyance. “Didn’t y/n bring you a slice, you should know.”

You did. And he ate it happily with one hand on the wheel, with you back in his passenger seated complaining about how unhealthy it was for breakfast.

How it should be, you in his van and no one elses. Thank you very much.

“So,” Eddie clears his throat, crossing his arms and leaning against the lockers with his back pressed against them. The lock digging in the back of his lower spine as he leveled his friend with a more serious tone. “You got a thing for y/n?”

Gareth stares back.

“Nope. Do not do this to me right now.” Gareth attempts to walk away but Eddie grabs his shoulder again to keep him in place. “I already have to deal with those freshman”

“I’m just asking! I mean, it’s a bit weird that you both went to eat pizza together. So , if it was a date. I would like to know. Just, normal best friend things. You know how I am with her.”

“Yes. I do know, unfortunately.” The brunette pushes his hand off. “Look dude, it was nothing more than y/n wanting pizza. Not a date or whatever got your panties in a twist.”

“Cool, cool” Eddie nods, feeling more relieved at the fact. Gareth rolls his eyes and begins walking towards the cafeteria. “Just looking out for you! Don’t want my band mate getting heart broke one. She’s harsh like that.”

“Oh definitely,” Gareth laughs loudly, “so harsh that she wouldn’t stop asking me if she was too mean for not letting you come along. Then wouldn’t stop reminding to bring you a damn slice.”

“She did?” Eddie perks up, and Gareth groaned again. It made him feel a little better that you also were bothered by the fact he didn’t come along. Really, he wasn’t sure why he was so worried last night.

All that hope Chrissy started was growing more and he couldn’t help the bump in his step as he walked beside Gareth to the cafeteria.

“You both are hopeless.” Gareth states which Eddie ignores once he sees you sitting at the lunch table.

“She got uncomfortable by my pathetic attempt at flirting.” Eddie recounts later that week and sits himself on the stairwell. Chrissy fixing the bow in her hair as she listens to him. “I was trying to invite her to movie night, but she got quiet. And didn’t want to look at me then made an excuse that her stomach hurt.”

“I told you, maybe she was actually sick.”

“No. I know her.” He huffs, “I can just tell. Then the other day, we were laughing over some of the yearbook pictures. And she gave me that stupid smile of hers.”

It was vivid in his head. You were trying to speak between giggling as Eddie pointed out some funny pictures. Then he turned the page and there was the both of you, surrounded by the rest of the hellfire club and you were mimicking his devil horn signature minus the tongue.

“We look so cute!” You gasped, pointing at the photo. “I’m surprised they even put that there. I guess Mike begged Nancy.”

You looked up at him and smiled brightly, “I need to get a copy of this so I can put it up in my wall. Or maybe even on the side of my mirror..”

Eddie had nodded, distracted by the intensity of your smile. The way your eyes sparked and you seemed so excited at the prospect of having a photo of Eddie and you together.

It was moments like these. When he felt it was only you two, in this bubble that froze time, he would nervously glance at Chrissy. Who often was watching these tender moments and would hold up a small thumbs up to encourage him. Because even if he did slowly grow more confident, he needed reassurance.Hence his meetups with the cheerleader so he could recount these moments for advice.

It was a delicate matter, and he trusted Chrissy to not let him fuck this up.

But when he looked back at you, you had pulled away, breaking the small bubble and was staring down at the yearbook. No longer smiling.

It was becoming a habit. This pulling away, your smiles suddenly disappearing at random moments when he thought everything was going great.

“And I don’t know, one moment it was there. Then I looked away, and it was gone.” He recounts to Chrissy. “It’s been happening more often. I’m starting to think, maybe we both are wrong and I’m seeing it wrong, and I’m too obvious and she’s noticing. And uncomfortable. And..shit I don’t know.”

“Im sure it’s not that Eddie.” Chrissy sits down next to him on the steps. “Give it time”

And he wanted to. But you only pulled away further after that. You began to be more quiet, often letting him talk and listening instead. Everyday he tried to make a fool of himself more, to be able to see that bright smile that he knew the sun wouldn’t compare to.

Like when he fell to his knees on the parking lot the day he stayed back in class, and he had the chance of bumping into Chrissy to have her reassure him of his worries. Again.

Your laughter instantly making him feel less stupid for the way his knees ached and from the stares of others from his begging. He thought maybe he still could bring you back.

Yet your small smile after reassuring him a few minutes after, proved him wrong once again.

He didn’t understand. Why your once bright and bubbly personality was changing right in front of him. You could barely hold eye contact with him.

Your smiles didn’t reach your eyes.

He use to be able to make you smile, laugh to the point of verge of tears. It was always so easy for him to be able to comfort you and you would be back to your cheerful self. You never had to force a smile around him.

So why were you doing it now?

He wanted to push. Push you talk to him but that was the thing-

He never needed to push before. He would always ask, and you would crumble into your rambling and release all your worries to him. Knowing that he was listening and that his arms were open.

You never held back from opening up to him. Ramblings and weird questions was a daily occurrence. Your random worries always something Eddie welcomed because he loved the sound of your voice.

So for you to sit there, not bothering to make eye contact and insist it was okay, when it clearly wasn’t?

This was different. New territory for him and Eddie was lost. For the first time since he met you.

And those doubts, all those fears that he and Chrissy’s hangouts were meant to beat down in order to prepare him to confess to you, began to latch onto him.

What if you noticed his change in demeanor towards you? He tried not to act too differently after he realized he wanted more, realized he wanted to push his luck a little bit. But he’s been oblivious before, so maybe you noticed his feelings.

Maybe you were uncomfortable by it. Despite his hopes that you felt the same way, he could always be wrong.He could be wrong about his luck stretching that long.

He felt so overwhelmed by it. Anytime he felt saddened by his own mind, he would call you and your voice would keep him calm.

But could he call when you were the reason he was feeling this way?

He tries, really tries to get through the night but the phone is in his hand before he knew it.

You hung up on him. He had come close to confessing after you gave him the sweetest speech. Everything he dreamed to hear from you encouraging him to finally say the truth, and you fucking hung up on him.

Eddie stares at the wall across from him, the hallway suddenly feeling too small for him. It was closing in on him as he dialed your house phone again, fingers shaking as he listened to the multiple rings play out. After the 6th ring, he slammed the phone down.

“Fuck!”

—

“I need you.” He wills himself to not cry right there. Listening and waiting on the other side of the bathroom door. His body running on the adrenaline from the argument moments before.

He didn’t mean to blow up on you the way he did. He never once raised his voice towards you, but he couldn’t stop it. All the confusion, hope, and fear reached its breaking point when you tried to avoid him once again. The lies coming right out your mouth stabbed through him.

You never lied to him before. That’s what hurt. You lying and hiding from him made him want to break everything in sight but also, to break down crying himself.

Chrissy was wrong. He let her misconceptions warp his brain into thinking that he deserved anymore luck than what he had. He should have been grateful, for what he had already. This friendship that you built, who was he to wish for more?

Eddie Munson was not suppose to be a lucky person.

He pushed his limits and you were pulling away. Not only did he stupidly believe he had a chance of more, he may have forced the universe to rip away what they gave to him. Your silence an indication of that.

Eddie wiped the tear that ran down his nose, from leaning his forehead against the door trying to listen to anything from you. He pulled away as the silence stretched on. The hurt worsening as the seconds ticked by.

Fuck this. He shouldn’t have been so stupid.

—

He didn’t expect you to come to his trailer right after. Or for the way you began to ramble and pace around his room, your nervous voice filling his room in a way he had grown accustomed to in the years of friendship.

He missed it so much. He didn’t care if he still felt heartbroken at his realization that he couldn’t have you the way he wanted. Destroyed that he couldn’t even be lucky enough for that.

With you smiling softly at him, not a forced one after so long, as he held your cheek and apologized himself. He decided that he will gladly accept what he has now because you being there, laughing and kicking your feet as he carries to his van-

That was enough luck for him.

—

You slept in his room that night. Your socked foot nearly kicking him in the chin as you turned, stretching your body out as a yawn forced its way out. He opens one eye, glancing at his windows to see that it wasn’t that bright outside yet.

He drowsily waits for you to fall back asleep again, listening for your breaths to even out so he could go back asleep himself.

But you sat up, rubbing your eyes and pulling the blankets with you as you stand from his bed and stumble awkwardly towards his bedroom door.

Your small ow from kicking his lunchbox has him groaning loudly, pushing his face into his pillow. “What are you doing..” he rasps, hating to open his eyes to try to make out the numbers on his clock. “Its 6:00 am. We have an hour.”

He remembers the morning before, when you left earlier before he woke up. This wakes him a bit more, anxiety there as he pushes himself up from the comfort of his bed to a sitting position. You looking at him sheepishly from the door.

“I need to make a call.” You whisper, the large blanket wrapped around you making you look ridiculous. You seem to know what he was thinking as you continue to reassure him, “That’s all Eds. I’ll come back .”

“Hurry up.” He sighs, not bothering to ask who you could be calling this damn early, before flopping back on the bed and hugging the pillow.

Even if he was really sleepy, he stayed awake waiting for you to come back. His hand reaching out to touch where you were laying before, sighing impatiently at your absence.

You came back about 5 minutes later, climbing over him, kicking his side, to get to your side of the bed. He hums at feeling you lay back beside him, grabbing onto the blanket and pulling it, forcing you to roll over as it was still wrapped around you.

“Don’t be stingy, its freezing.” He murmurs. You smile and unwrap it before throwing half of it over his body. It becomes quiet then. He didn’t need to open his eyes to know you were facing him.

Your hand grabs his and Eddie falls back to sleep.

Eddie wasn’t sure how to feel about the way Max had narrowed her eyes at him after you both woke up again and gotten ready for the day. As though she was trying to burn him alive with just her mind.

She was waiting outside on her porch when you waved her over towards the van when you stepped out of his trailer.

“I called early, let your mom know you’ll be catching rides with us now.” You smile at the redhead, whom only sighs and gets up. “I can’t have you riding that scary bus”

“You only rode it for one day.” She states, rolling her eyes. Max looks at Eddie for a moment before shoving her backpack into his arms. “I call shotgun.”

You smile at that, shrugging at Eddie who stared between you two. “I’m cool with that.”

Now he understood why Lucas was always so confused with Max’s behavior. Sure, he had eavesdropped a few times when the kids gossiped about their love life, or what a 15 year would describe a “love” life. Most of the time he was bored if you had to stay in between classes, so he would let them go on and on about what else happens in their lives.

Lucas would complain that Max was avoiding him, or she was meaner than usual. Whom he had to remind, well her brother died in a mall fire the year before. Give her some time.

But he didn’t think she was this mean.

“This is what you listen to all day ?” She scoffs, noticing the Iron Maiden cassette case on the floor of the van. “Don’t you have anything less..”

“Scary?” You butt in, ignoring Eddie’s look of concern from you putting yourself between the seats. Clearly you didn’t understand his need for you to be safely seated.

“No, shitty.”

“Hey, don’t knock it until you realllyy listen, okay?” He cuts off your small giggle, reaching over to turn up the volume a bit. “This, Max, is real music. It’s not just about how it sounds, but the complex lyrics and-“

“Oh god, make him stop.”

“Keep going Eds.” You place a handle on the drivers seat as your other hand pull gently on one of his curls. He perks up at you defending him. “Tell her about the verrry deep lyrics of Ladies Room by Kiss.”

Maybe not.

“Okay, how about you,” he gently pushes you back, “Sit down! You know I hate when you do that.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you laugh, reaching for your bag and getting distracted by searching inside it.

He missed that. Your laugh and the smiles you been throwing at him all morning. It didn’t make it any easier for him though. It felt like his heart was swelling with the amount of adoration he had for you, it was going to be the death of him.

Max was staring at him again. Studying him, trying to decipher whatever she had in mind when he tilts his head at her, expecting for another insult.

She looked away when you called her name and begin to ask her a question.

“So everything is okay now?” Chrissy asks, looking over the blunt Eddie had handled to her, sliding some cash to him.

There was a few minutes left of lunch and you had gotten dragged by Robin to join her and Nancy for lunch. Something about girl talk, Eddie not being allowed. It was funny the surprised look on face when they dragged you away. He decided to meet up with Chrissy to talk about the night before.

“Yeah.” He says, happy that it felt true. “She finally told me that she just been in her head again and I guess, it was really bad this time.” He sighs, “maybe if I tried harder to notice, it wouldn’t have gotten to that point.”

Chrissy watches the soft expression on his face. “Figure out when you’ll confess then?”

“I don’t know Chrissy.” He swallows, pushing his bangs out of his face. He really needed to ask you to cut them again. “I think it’s best if I don’t..ruin anything. That whole time I thought she was acting that way because of me, afraid maybe she could tell the difference.”

“And I realized how fragile this whole thing is. And I don’t know,” he drops a stick he was messing with and looks at her. “Im still not even sure how she feels about me. I can’t read her. How can I not read my own best friend!”

He feels like dropping to the ground and never getting up. He felt okay this morning but now Chrissy has him, once again, going on a tangent.

“I made a mistake of calling her that night. And I was just gonna talk then somehow-somehow! It lead to me trying to confess to her. I was this close and she hung up! And acted the way she did.”

“Try again.”

“No, she’s opening up to me again and I have her back. that's all that matters now and we’re back to normal!” He assures. “besides, if she didn't understand my confession, or maybe she did and ignored it. it doesn't matter, we’re good now.”

“Did you straight out say that you liked her?” Chrissy emphasizes on the ‘her’

“…”

“Eddie ?”

“Something along the lines..”

“Right.” Chrissy tugs on her skirt when she stands and crosses her arms. “Eddie how can she know if you’re not saying it clearly.”

“It’s not that easy. I mean, it is easy to talk about how I feel, never had that problem before. We always talk about our problems. But these are..my feelings that may not be returned. And-”

He motions towards her. “And I barely touched how I really feel on that phone call. It was rookie stuff!”

Chrissy thinks. “What are your feelings then?”

“What do you mean?”

“You always are worrying about saying the wrong thing, or if you’re looking into things the right way.” She considers. “Why do you like her?”

“Why? It’s y/n.” He frowns. “Who wouldn’t like her?”

“What about you? Why do you like her, how do you feel?”

Anyone can say that they like how you look, the way hair frames your face, or the way your clothes fit you. Or how you carry yourself or your sweet voice. You were a beauty that Eddie feels like no one should touch.

But for Eddie, it was deeper than that. He could name a hundred things he likes about you.

From the way you wake up with a bird nest as a hair that he often had to take tangles out as you sat sleepily, to how your nose scrunches slightly whenever you hate a certain taste of food but you never say anything to Uncle Wayne when he cooks, or how you would hide your smiles behind your hands when you watched romantic movies and the way your eyes redden at particular scenes.

Or the way you don’t realize how loud you’re being sometimes, ducking your head in shame when you do and he would tell you that it was okay. He likes when you are loud and come out of your shell at random moments.

He likes when you link your arm with his, because you have no problem being touchy. Your hands shoving at him or slapping his arm playfully whenever he annoyed you. The smell of your fruit scented shampoo filling his nose when you invade his space with no care, hugging him during scary movie scenes or when you felt particularly sad that day. That same shampoo brand that has its own spot in his bathroom.

Along with all your knickknacks that you bring to him when you visited the thrift store with your mom. Your excitement at the small things and that fucking smile and eyes.

“I..” Eddie isn’t sure where he could start. There was so much else in mind but those details, those small moments that make up everything in his life, is something he wants to keep to himself.

“ ‘like’ feels so weak compared to how I really feel Chrissy” he finally pushes out. She waits for him to continue.

“It’s different. I feel lucky. Like I have something that is a one in a life time chance..like if I were to loose that, everything would fucking suck. My life wouldn’t have that..shine anymore.”

“Because that’s what she is. She’ s this light, this..” he struggles, he never was one for poetry but dammit if he tries. “This fucking ray of sunshine!”

He laughs and tries to fight back the blush that was waiting to spread across his neck from how cheesy he sounded but he couldn’t stop. “She smiled at me the first time we met and I was like, yeah. Yeah, nothing will match that.”

“And she fits into my life like a lost puzzle, something I was missing before I came to Hawkins. Makes me feel whole and I’ll be incomplete with out her, and..and I just..”

“I’m happy with our friendship. I don’t want to even think about losing that, but maybe..maybe I want to wake up and actually be able to kiss her good morning . And goodnight, and all the time in between. “He revels at the idea. “I already have so much of her,-“

He smiled shyly as he looks at Chrissy, who was looking at him as though she was proud. He was going on for too long, lunch was ending. “But maybe I want that part of her. Where we could actually tell people we are a couple.Where it’s true”

Chrissy wraps her arms around him as he huffs out a huge breath from his emotional speech before she pulls away and smiles.

“Now, find a way to tell her that. On a real date, of course.”

“That’s going to be hard.”

“I know. But you’ll figure it out Eddie.”

He feels that confidence return and he becomes hopeful again.That spark appearing again and fuck it.

He’s going to test his luck.

*・゜゜・*:.。..。.:*・*:゜・*:.。. .。.:*・゜゜・**・゜゜・*:.。..。.:*・*:゜・*:

Taglist: @bratckerman @beepisbeep @thegirlthatsfalling @ssolariiaa @hauntingtherosebush @akwzilla @fujiihime @run-up-that-hilll @eddieswifu @kaitcreatesart @mel119g @sole-screws @a1hymy @lmili @lostgirl-28 @crazyjenny8675309 @coolsnowker @scoopsr0bin @raydenrrobertson @maximizedrhythms @thegirlwhohides @waverzzzzzzzz @cherry-vamps @yourdailymemedelivery @bietchz @whatareyouhidingpeter @shinydixon @strangerthingsstories5255 @ureleesian @sad-darksoul @erisdogwood @trinsghost @vaness20 @stiegasaw @guyinachair27 @boomitsallie1 @hazydespair @natashaashleymarvelromanoff @darlingbravebelle @mnskai @minejungwoo @iloveeddiemunson13

if I missed anyone or it didn't tag right, im sorryyy ! dm me or reply to this for the next part if you decide to stick around (: ok imma hit post , eat my cupcake and hide bc anxiety and im insecure of this haha. hope you all have a wonderful day. drink water, eat something, rest. byee <33

#eddie munson #Eddie Munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie fic #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things imagine #stranger things season 4 #eddie munson angst #Eddie pls THINK #eddie munson imagine

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dazai-ritualist · 5 days

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I CANT HELP IT! IM SORRY but we know Al dies in his late 30s early 40s so we can assume he at least got to watch his kids grow up into young adults? What happens when Al dies and reader is “set free?” Only to figure out her children aren’t all who they seem to be? I can see reader’s son possibly becoming a corrupt detective/cop and perhaps her daughter gets into fashion or becoming a teacher? Im not sure what Emi’s future might be but im very curious on your thoughts!

UH OH, SHE’S LOSING HER CONTROL!

[hold up! read the rest of the story first!!]

— and when it seemed like there was no more hope, the monster of the house was slain.

and so, 12 years passed by like a breeze. despite being trapped in this hellhole called home, it was all worth it. for the children, all of it was worth it. noah, just 22 and he’s already a fine policeman, keeping the people in line. and the family treasure, emilia— aged 15, and yet a smart little girl. starting her own little farm outside, from cotton to potatoes, and keeping the family afloat. such wonderful kids, it’s a miracle alastor’s manipulations didn’t rub off on them.

1933, times were tough— the stock market crashed, the bank had failed, and everyone was living off of rations. thankfully, radios gained more popularity, and alastor had profited off of it, making sure his little family was fed with a roof over their heads— he seemed to not only enjoy the newfound wealth, but also the suffering in the streets... suitable for a monster such as himself. and while he worked, you and emilia had used the cotton from her farm to create and sell dresses, your own little effort to the community.

still, that didn’t change the hell that was outside your little safe haven. it wasn’t rare for young men to knock on your door, begging for work. and while your heart felt for them, it couldn’t change what alastor had in mind for them. he’d bring them in— down into the basement. and that very night, suddenly there was meat on the table.

you knew what he did, you weren’t an idiot. he gave you that man’s flesh. but, you did what you had to do. for the children, so that they’re well-nourished. and against your better judgement, you followed through, serving what seemed to be a steak. your husband seemed to love your ultimate submissiveness, one way or the other, you’d give into his ways. although it made your stomach churn, the very thought of eating the poor man, it was hard to live during these times, it was what had to be done.

and, it was why you let your children on a hunting trip with him. “little emi’s first trip! you excited, lil’ sis?” noah laughed, patting his sister on the head. “don’t do that, you’ll mess up my hair!” emilia frowned back. alastor laughed at the two as he held you by the waist, “oh, those two!” he mused, looking back to face you. “we’ll be home in time for dinner, my love. i love you so very much!” he smiled, kissing you all over. you hated whenever he did that— when he acted like he’d done nothing wrong, yet you didn’t fight back. what point was there to it? 15 years, and he’s managed to keep you in this house, there was no more use in fighting back.

“okay. just keep them safe, alastor.” you said as he pressed his nose against your’s. he smiled against your lips and laid onto you one final kiss. “don’t you worry your pretty little head, my dear. i’ll protect them with my life.”

and, that was the last time you saw him.

when your children came home, they looked frightened. “m..momma…” emilia whimpered. “oh, baby, what’s wrong? where’s dad?” you asked, running towards them to make sure they were safe. “…ma…” noah let out. “dad’s dead…” he said, ashamed to look you in the eye. “he’s… dead..?” you asked, dazed. “momma! i-i didn’t mean to!” your daughter cried, pulling you closer to hug. “you didn’t mean to..? emi, what happened?” you pulled your daughter far away enough to see her teary-eyed face.

“…i shot dad…” she said, hiccuping in-between words. your eyes widened at her words. “d-dad was on his knees in the dirt, so i thought he was a deer ‘n i shot him…” she explained, wiping her tears. “momma, i don’t wanna go to jail.” she cried out. “don’t worry, baby. you won’t go to jail. you didn’t mean to…” you kissed her on the forehead.

standing up properly, you looked your son in the eyes, wet as he tried to hold his tears back. “baby, i need you to show me where dad is, i’ll take care of it.” you said. “y-yeah, ok, momma… i’ll take you there…” he nodded his head. “emi, go prepare dinner while i’m gone. momma will take care of this mess.” you told her as she nodded her head.

when you arrived, alastor’s body was mangled beyond recognition, the only way you knew it was him was by the clothes he wore— it must have been someone’s hunting dogs, that means it’s possible somebody already discovered the body, and is headed to the police station. the only possible reason alastor could have been here and on his knees, as emilia said, must have been to dispose of a body. so, the ground beneath you must have a corpse. only the lord knows how many bodies alastor could’ve hidden here. but then, you had an idea.

but, first, you had to check. you dug the dirt below alastor’s body. and lo and behold, was the corpse of noah’s friend-turned-enemy, kenneth. “d…did dad kill ken..?” noah asked, afraid of the answer. “i suppose he did.” you said, frowning over your own answer. did the years truly turn you as heartless as him..? “now, noah… if you don’t want your sister to be locked away in a correctional facility, you’ll help me. understand?” you asked, speaking for the first time with a strict tone. “y-yes, momma…” he said as he pushed back in about 3 feet of dirt. he helped you lower his father’s mangled corpse into the grave, pushing back the remaining 3 feet of dirt.

“now, dear… i need you to head back to your station and see if any hunters reported a corpse in the forest, okay? and, make sure those police dogs you have sniff this area, so that they can find dad…” you said to him, explaining your plan. “yeah, okay, momma… i don’t want little emi going to jail…” he said. this was wrong, but it was to protect your family. for the children, right? you won’t let alastor ruin the family even in his death. if those cops found out that emilia killed alastor, they’d try to punish her for all of his crimes as well.

and with that, you returned home. and when noah came back, he returned triumphant. “they bought it, momma. don’t you worry, emi. no cops are gonna take you away. if they try, i’ll kill ‘em” he assured her, hugging his little sister as the weight on her shoulders fell.

this is good, right? even though it resulted in alastor’s death, all three of you are free from his manipulations. and, yes, you framed an innocent hunter— but, it was to protect the family. after all, you raised such wonderful kids, they don’t deserve to go to jail. they’re so kind, they’d dirty their hands for each other. and… that’s a good thing, isn’t it? they’re loyal to their family.

but then, the guilt finally started to settle in.

and it weighed on your shoulders when they finally lowered alastor’s casket into the ground.

1891 — 1933

loving husband and father

he will be missed by all who knew him

the monster was finally gone.

#the corruption is supposed to be subtext 😣😣#btw im totes willing to write another part when reader finally dies n sees my pookie in hell 💞💞💞#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hasbin alastor #alastor hazbin x reader #alastor hc #alastor headcanons #human alastor #alastor the radio demon #yandere alastor #yandere hazbin hotel #yandere

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readychilledwine · 3 months

Text

Kissed by Fire pt 2

Summary - Amelia Archeron, the oldest of the made sisters, sacrificed more than her sisters would ever understand, and more than she would ever allow them to know. Now, they want her to sacrifice her one chance at happiness, too.

Warnings - talks of sex work, beron, implied abuse, Lucien getting to be the smartest, person in a room.

Series Masterlist Eris Masterlist Master Masterlist

Eris sat at a silent family breakfast. Per tradition, no one spoke. No one had spoken at breakfast since Lucien's exile.

Beron no longer allowed casual conversation between his sons. No discussion of how their days were laid out, of who was covering which territory for the day, of how they slept.

Beron no longer allowed brotherhood. At least, not in front of him.

The note casually passed under the table started at their mother. He soft elegant script gracing the page. It had gone to the now youngest Hermes, his red hair was shaved on the right side with an intricate pattern and then curled on the top. He showed no reaction on his face before waiting for the next opportunity of Beron Speaking down to a servant over the quality of something she had no control over to pass it to Ares. The smug idiot also controlled his face as he continued eating and scratched his facial stubble that he had allowed to grow for much too long. He then waited for Beron to look away, passing the note to the second oldest whom Eris immediately shot a look. Apollo had always been the diplomatic one, the scholar interested in music and arts much more than any throne. He played his part well, but the male was easy to read. He kept his face cold and indifferent, waiting for the chance to pass the note To Eris.

Eris was the riskiest pass. He was constantly sitting at his father's right hand. A testament to his efforts and the cruelty he'd inflicted for the sake of his mother, his brothers, himself.

Lunch and tea at noon? Your father is going to the Winter Borders Today.

It wasn't even a question in Eris's mind. His mother could ask him to carve his own heart out and he would say yes.

Walking alongside Beron was something Eris longed to end. He always felt an almost slime growing on him when he had to. He listened carefully as Beron's spymaster, an undereducated ruddy looking male who hardly could gather anything worth knowing, handed him a folder.

“Rumor has it the King of Hybern got a hold of the 3 older Archeron sisters and threw them in the Cauldron,” he paused as Beron did. A look of disbelief flashes in his father's eyes as he opens the Report. “All three of them emerged fae.”

“And where did this rumor come from?”

The male looked at Beron, a small smirk forming, “Ianthe. She's currently in Spring with the curse breaker. Tamlin and the boy witnessed the whole thing.” The simple mention of Lucien had Eris looking up. “One of the sisters is evidently his mate.”

Chill set over Eris at that thought. It settled when he looked at his father's face. In place of the normally stone cold mask was a smile, not one of joy or happiness. One that promised if he ever got his hands on that poor girl, she would suffer, just so Lucien did. Just so his mother did. “Find out if this is accurate and let Eris know as soon as possible. Then find out which sister.” Beron slapped the report on Eris's chest. “Ensure your mother does not learn of this until it is convenient for me.”

Eris went to the tearoom his mother and brothers sat in, stress lining his every muscle like a heavy coat as he did. “I have news,” he watched as they all sighed heavily. “Lucien has a mate,” he threw the papers down. “I am guessing these three are why Azriel came to me a few weeks ago.”

Andromeda held the papers tight, reading each line over and over. “This changes things,” her voice was soft, breaking slightly at what this could mean. “You four need to be ready.”

Hermes leaned back, nodding as he did.

Ares took the reports next, Studying them hard. “You said the shadowsinger made you a deal right? Can you use it to force Rhysand into a bargain?”

Apollo sighed heavily, having dealt with Rhysand the most in the 50 years they were all trapped together. “Rhysand isn't going to bargain for his assistance unless his family is at risk. That's his sole motivation in his world. Not his court. Not himself. His family.”

“We need more,” Eris concluded. “Helion might not be enough. Tamlin is an unstable support. Kal is unknown. Thesan is going to hand his support on a platter just because he hates Beron. Rhysand-”

“Has no hound in the race,” his mother finished with a distant look over her shoulder towards the window. Towards the sunlight she could never fully bathe herself in. “Find one.”

Amelia hated Rhysand. She leaned across a table from him, blinking at him like he was an absolute idiot. “If I could access it, I could learn to control it, Rhysand.”

The High Lord sighed. “And when you open a gate to Mother knows where, Welcoming Mother knows what into my court and home, what then Amelia?”

It had taken Amren the better part of three weeks. Three long weeks Amelia had spent on constant faebane.

She hardly ate anymore, not that she really was before.

All glow and color had left her skin, leaving her pale and lifeless.

Her eyes constantly held dark circles from dreamless sleep.

Rhysand saw the parallel. He was not foolish or blind. It ate at him, nagging loudly in the back of his mind and pounding over and over again whenever he'd shut his eyes.

He kept lying to himself, pretending it was for Amelia's own good.

There had not been a worldwalker since Amren first appeared. And even those thousands of years ago, the walkers were rumors. Ghosts in the wind passed down by busy body gossips who believe they possibly saw a gate open and close.

“And what will you do if I just refuse to take it?”

Rhys looked up at Amelia, a sympathetic glaze to his eyes as he began to hold her mind and force her to drink the tainted wine. “It wouldn't matter,” his voice was flat. “I am sorry Amelia, but until we find out more, this is what I have to do to keep you safe.”

“Safe,” she whispered the word back like it was poisoned. “You all promised us that word before and failed,” she stood ignoring the look of pain that flashed on his face, on Cassian's, on Azriel's. “Hopefully you fail this time too.” She left the room, slamming the door so hard the frames shook.

Amelia walked down the hall, shutting her door Behind her and curled into her blanket, smiling at the familiar scent that screamed Autumn.

Amelia pulled out the map of Pryithian She had ripped out of a book. Studying it hard one more time.

She'd make it out of this damned court.

Even if she had to burn it to the ground to do so.

Lucien read the note over and over again. It had come to him through the hearth. It smelled of roasted chestnuts and a crackling fire.

He wished he could bask in it. He wished he could bottle up the scent and bathe in it, take comfort in it during nights when his dreams plagued him.

The sense of security the scent brought him was almost mocking as he read his mother's handwriting over and over.

“Beron knows. He knows about your mate. Hide her. Run away with her.”

Lucien sat on his bed, sending a silent prayer to the Cauldron. He had planned on running with Feyre anyways. He had been trying to find a way out for them for a week now, but the damn twins went everywhere with them.

Lucien hid the note as his door opened without a knock, “What do you want, Ianthe?”

“There's something in the forest. Tamlin told me to take you to look at it.”

Several days had passed since Amelia and Rhys fought. They had only spoken in passing, the female holding her head high and refusing to apologize. The high lord returned the sentiment. He had started having to have Azriel or Cassian watch her drink the tea, or else she would dump it according to the twins.

She had lost weight. Way too much weight. Her and Elain were walking skeletons. Rhys entered Amelia's room, heart falling at the sight of each bone visible in her back. “Feyre has escaped Spring. Lucien is coming with her.”

Amelia nodded. “Elain's mate. How does your dear Shadowsinger feel about that?”

Her bored tone had Rhys immediately irritated. “Do you not care that your youngest sister is currently on the run?”

She raised a brow, crossing her arms over the sweater that was now much too large for her. “I trust Feyre's abilities to get herself out of anything she walks into. I've had no choice but to do that for years,” she moved towards the window. “You do not know everything, Rhysand, you do not know the extent of my care nor the sacrifice I made.”

He sat in the chair he always took, “Because you refuse to tell me, Amelia. You refuse to tell me what oh so wonderful sacrifice you made while your younger sisters were cold and starving.”

Her mind flashed to that cabin, chopping wood for hours straight, stacking it nicely. To prepare them breakfast and leaving it to warm over a fire. Just for her to leave the house without eating and head to the pleasure house.

She'd leave before they woke, and return long after they slept.

Each night she'd hide money in Feyre's bags. Enough to get them food for the next week, if her younger Sister didn't decide to treat herself to unnecessary paints and brushes, then tuck the rest into another bag.

A bag she hoped to eventually gain enough gold stashed inside of to buy them a home.

One that wasn't one windstorm from falling apart.

“How long did you work there,” his voice broke. “How little were you paid to lay there.”

Amelia's father had lost and gambled away their wealth when Amelia was 15. “The second father was hunted down, so I went there. I was 15. I worked there long after that raging fluff ball decided we were his charity case. That's how Jurian found me. He bought me for the night using enough money that they'd turn a blind eye to whatever he wanted to do to me. The house took 90% of my Earnings. 20% would go towards paying off my debt to them so I could be free. They pocketed the rest. I'd take home a measly 10%.”

She could see the disgust washing over him. “How much was an hour with you?”

She shrugged, "Depended on what he wanted to do. I had a male pay 30 gold to beat me once. I had a male pay 50 to do things I never want to speak about again.”

Rhys nodded. “Why don't they know?”

“Because High Lord, nothing says hold on to your hopes like finding out your sister fucks for coin.”

She watched Rhysand get a distant look in his eyes, “I have to go. She's here.” Amelia nodded. “I will give her your love, even if you won't ask me to.”

She paused, looking at him in shock. He moved to her, kissing her temple softly. “No one will ever touch you without your consent again. I promise. Just give me time for the rest. We are still searching.”

Something soft was in his eyes. Something akin to care. To love.

It made Amelia feel bile set in her stomach followed by guilt.

Despite her anger and insults, he was trying.

And maybe, she should try too.

Lucien sat on the couch across from the oldest Archeron sister. He was trying to process her outfit. “Where did you get that sweater?” His brother's sweater, Lucien didn't say the words after a look from Azriel and Cassian told him not to.

“Az brought it to me,” Lucien hummed at her response.

They were studying each other. Trying to figure out each other's ticks like it was their passion project in court training. “Why do you smell like faebane?”

She countered immediately, “Why do YOU smell like faebane?”

“Poisoned by the same whore of a priestess who sold you out,” Lucien leaned back, raising and nodding for her explanation.

“Being forced to take it because that whore of a priestess had me thrown into an oversized Cauldron and it did something to me.”

“Enough,” Azriel said softly. “This conversation is done.”

“What do you mean?” Lucien pushed despite the warning.

“I can see strings,” Amelia said softly. “They're all different. Different colors, smells, materials. Some sparkle like what they're connected to is active and alive. Some are duller like light can't fully reach the end I can see.”

Lucien felt his face dropping, unable to school a reaction due to his exhaustion. “And these strings, when you touch them, can you hear anything? See anything?”

She nodded. “Between teas when they come back, I can reach them. One was dark, cold, when I touched it I heard a woman's voice. It sounded like someone was singing a dark song as she spoke in a language I didn't understand. Another time there was a string that almost seemed to glow. I could hear laughter, strange music, another language I didn't know.”

The three males shared a look. This was more information than they had gotten from her in a month, "Amelia, the night you followed me, did you pull one of the strings?”

She looked to Azriel, blue eyes sad. “In my sleep, yes. It smelled like fire and apples,” Lucien's stomach fell. “I was drawn to whoever you were speaking with. Like their voice was enough to keep me warm. Like they'd be enough to keep me safe.”

Azriel felt his face pale when she turned away and stood to leave the room.

“I think I already know the answer, but who were you with?”

Cassian sighed, sitting down. “He went to Eris. To get that sweater and a blanket in hopes he would enchant them. Amelia can't hold warmth since the Cauldron.”

“Has she met him?” They shook their heads. “I'd keep her away from him.” Azriel knew what Lucien was suggesting and voiced soft agreement. “Beron can't get his hands on a Realm Walker. It'd be too dangerous for every court and world she got him to.”

Lucien sipped the tea he had staring at the fire. "You should also check resources from Vallahan instead of here. The last recorded Realm Walker was born and trained there. Helion would be able to get his hands on some of their notes."

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes

Kissed by Fire Taglist:

@justdreamstars @coralseacourt @kemillyfreitas @impossibelle @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @believinghurts

#kissedbyfire #eris acotar #eris x oc #eris fic #eris vanserra x oc #eris vanserra fic #pro eris #pro eris vanserra #eris vandaddy #acotar #eris vanserra #eris vanserra acotar

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drakaripykiros130ac · 3 months

Text

I just have to say this: Aegon the Usurper flying off like an idiot in battle while Rhaenyra does not, doesn’t make this guy a hero, nor does it make Rhaenyra a coward.

We need to set the record straight: Women don’t have to be warriors in order to be worth something.

This is just another proof of classic misogynistic thinking of TG stans. But they also prove to be highly subjective since they give “poor sweet innocent” Helaena a pass for doing absolutely nothing and being less than relevant even as a dragonrider. And as the ringleader of the Greens, I don’t think Alicent sat on a horse and rode off to battle in order to further her own ambitions. She started the whole mess and then hid behind her sons. Even after Rhaenyra took King’s Landing, the only thing Alicent could say was something like “Just wait till my son Aemond returns bla bla bla.”

Rhaenyra is a girl’s girl. Those who read the book understand that. The canon version of her never wanted to be a son (unlike the stupidity induced in that show). She was very feminine: always choosing to wear the best dresses with the finest silks, many pieces of jewelry, and she is highly interested in men. She was always proud to be a woman. She embraced it. She never tried to act like the opposing gender as a way to make others look at her as worthy of the throne.

I repeat: Rhaenyra was a girl’s girl and she was proud of it.

She was not a warrior. She never trained with a sword in her life, unlike her idiotic half-brothers. She was not even the type (unlike Princess Rhaenys). Rhaenyra spent her time doing girly things and riding Syrax.

Shortly before the war started, Rhaenyra suffered a miscarriage which greatly affected her health. She needed months to recover. This is the reason why she didn’t ride Syrax in battle, as confirmed in the book. It was not because she didn’t want to or because she refused to fight her battles herself (as I hear many TG stans claim in spite).

And even if flying hadn’t been detrimental to her health, why would she fly into battle? You think that is a smart idea? It’s brave, but it’s also stupid, and the usurper himself proved that.

Aegon the Usurper rode his dragon into battle to show that he’s a man’s man, and what did that get him? Injuries which prevented him from being able to move well enough in order to sit on the throne he stole. The only battle he actually won was against a baby dragon, Moondancer. A baby dragon who inflicted deadly wounds on Sunfyre and caused his death.

So tell me again how ‘intelligent’ the usurper was to fly off into battle himself and what exactly he has accomplished with that. What exactly is so “heroic” about that? The fact that he shows off his masculinity on a big bad dragon?

And of course do forgive a poor woman for not flying her dragon into battle like a crazy person after a miscarriage and several psychological blows in one go like her father’s death, her daughter’s death, her son’s death and the usurpation through which a faction of snakes stole the throne that belonged to her.

Do forgive her for lacking any combat experience because you know…she was raised a girl and has a girlish personality!

And do forgive her for not being an idiot and getting herself disabled, like her half-brother did.

148 notes · View notes

lovebugism · 11 months

Note

Hey, I just wanted to let you know that the customer is always right is giving me life right now, I think about it all the time. Thanks for putting so much care into it, it’s beautiful.

THE CUSTOMER'S ALWAYS RIGHT | code red

summary: on a rainy saturday morning, eddie learns how to make you feel good. an unexpected visit from the redhead on cherry lane throws a wrench into your plans. (15k)

pairing: virgin!eddie munson / f!reader

tags: experienced!reader, idiots in love, newly established relationship, domestic bliss, max mayfield <;3 TW probable typos, swearing, very brief mentions of familial arguing, b*lly h*rgrove, kissing, heavy petting, oral sex (f!receiving), eddie munch-son comes in his pants... again 18+ only!!

( PREVIOUSLY ) | ( MASTERLIST ) | ( NEXT )

Eddie looks pretty when he sleeps.

Well, he’s pretty all the time. Just a little extra now.

He’s at peace, totally lax in his slumber and in the quietude he’s found at your side. Pink mouth agape and billowing soft snores, long lashes fluttered shut and brushing the apples of his cheek, curly hair in a wild halo on his head and fanning across your pillow. This is the first time you’ve seen the loudmouth boy so still and so at ease in it.

Maybe that’s why he seems to look more perfect than usual now — because he’s different than you’ve ever seen him before. Calm. Quiet.

He’s found this unfamiliar serenity in your bed, in your home, and beside your body. It’s beautiful in the way nature is beautiful. In the way it just exists and inspires such beauty despite itself. Like the moon or the ocean, Eddie is so pretty in his peacefulness, with no earthly idea of how heavenly he is.

You must look horrendous in comparison.

And not just because you’re next to the eighth wonder of the world.

You tend to sleep like it’s the first and the last time you ever will. You’re wild in your slumber, not a moon but a beast, and forced to wear it all the next morning. Your mussed hair, puffy eyes, and rounded cheeks testify to the barbaric nature of your beauty rest. Your mornings, more often than not, are usually battles with the unrecognizable monster you wake with.

So, to save yourself from the inevitable embarrassment, you opt to get an early start on your day.

You try to slip soundlessly out of bed, but every movement feels aggressive in the quiet. Your blankets shuffle too loudly, your floors creak with every step, and your door squeaks more violently than you’ve ever heard it. Despite your gentleness, it’s all too audible when you’re still swaddled in the solitude of an early morning.

The strident sound of metal door hinges makes you wince. You look over your shoulder, expecting to see the sleeping boy beginning to rouse. You’re relieved to find him as still as ever. Still wrapped up in the blankets and clutching the pillow in a death grip, Eddie’s face is shoved contently into the cushion. Lips pouted. Snores muffled. Hair untamed.

The ocean. The moon.

You wonder how often he shares a bed. If he ever has before.

He spent the majority of the night taking up most of the mattress. The only time his limbs weren’t totally starfished was when he was curled up and stealing the blankets. You didn’t mind, though. You found it quite endearing, actually. Especially when Eddie would wake at some random point in the night and cover you back up again, ushering you back into his side.

“Sorry,” he’d mumbled, slurred and still groggy with sleep.

“’S okay,” you’d whisper in response.

Because it was.

You’d happily suffer the cold and barely an inch of space on any bed if it meant Eddie was beside you to pull you back into him again.

Your assurances went unheard, however, because he was already slipping back into his slumber. When he was deep asleep once more, Eddie would turn to his other side and forget you were there. He’d take the blankets and the cuddles with him while you curled into his back in attempts to chase them both.

And, rather strangely, it was the best night’s sleep you think you’ve ever had.

That’s probably why it’s easier for you to get out of bed now, despite all the things calling you back to it. Stormy weather, warm blankets, and a beautiful boy wrapped up in it all. Your body longs to dress up in it and him, but you don’t allow yourself the privilege.

You can’t.

The last boy to stay over that wasn’t Steve was Jason Carver. The blonde-haired, blue-eyed douchebag woke up before you the following morning — the six o’clock wake time likely engraved into the gym rat’s psyche. And you, having put far too much work into your appearance than he was worth and having slept in all of it, didn’t look your best.

Your makeup was smudged, your hair was a mess, and your eyes and cheeks were swollen with sleep.

To Jason, you were a different person entirely.

A beast. A monster.

“It’s nothing,” he’d shrugged when you asked him why he looked like he just saw a ghost. “You just… You look different.”

Not yet recovered from the Hargrove heartache, you had little patience for assholes disturbing your peace. You squint your tired eyes at him in return. “If a girl’s never let you stay over before, you can just say that, Carver.”

That shut him up real quick.

You think you could probably take that kind of assholery from a lot of people. It’s not like you haven’t before, but it’d be different coming from Eddie — from the only boy who’s made you feel worthy of actual affection. Not just the bogus kind that disappears when the sex is over.

To save both of you from any potential suffering, you slink quietly out of your room and tiptoe down the hallway. You wash your face and brush your teeth with the faucet on low. You try your best to tame your wild hair and sleep-ridden features without making too much noise.

It wouldn’t matter how quiet you were, though. You could’ve been completely and utterly silent; Eddie still would’ve known you were gone.

He noticed your absence the second you got out of bed.

It was like you left an iceberg of emptiness in the place of your warmth.

He heard the creak of your short trek down the hallway, the soft click of the bathroom door latching, and then the low hiss of the faucet when you turned on the sink. All of your nearly inaudible noises reminded him that he wasn’t alone — that, for the first time in his life, he was sharing a bed with someone who wasn’t just a friend.

It’s a little uncanny, living a life he never thought he would have. The freak from Forest Hills Trailer Park is sleeping in a pretty girl’s bed. A pretty girl who cooked him dinner the night before and gave him mind-blowing head right after, providing him an orgasm from which he swears his legs still tingle.

It’s something straight out of his dreams. Something that only could’ve existed in his head before now. Before you. It’s almost too good to be true.

More than feeling underserving of it, Eddie’s got no idea what to do with it.

What do you do for a girl who’s too perfect for everything?

There’s nothing he could do for you, nothing he could give to you, that would come close to matching how he feels about you. Having all these feelings but not the means to describe them is frustrating. Suffocating.

He just wants to be able to tell you that he doesn’t want any of this to be about him, that he doesn’t want to be like all the assholes you’ve known before. You’re not a toy to him, not some pliable thing without feelings that’s only fun until it isn’t.

He wants whatever parts of you you’re willing to give him — grateful for a piece of your heart, enraptured for the whole of it. Eddie just wants these too big feelings to be mutual, those innocent and otherwise.

He hears the bathroom door creeaak slowly open after a few minutes more. It’s followed by the soft padding of your feet down the hall. He can tell you’re trying to be quiet.

Because he loves you, he pretends to be asleep when you come back to the bedroom. He buries his smile into the pillow when you slither into bed with the softest touches a human being can muster. All because you don’t want to wake him.

The boy humors you for a few moments before acting like he’s waking up all over again. He groans to himself, writhing as he tenses his tired limbs.

You wince. “I didn’t wake you, did I?” you whisper.

With his eyes still closed, Eddie shakes his wild head against the pillow.

He squeezes them shut while he stretches, turning onto his arched back and curling his arms above his head. The cutest, muffled whine sounds from the back of his throat while he tries to make use of his stiff limbs. The noise resembles that of a yawning puppy making a sound much larger than itself. You can’t help but smile.

“Morning,” you greet, grinning at the newly woken boy. You prop yourself on your elbow and lean a few inches over to press a chaste kiss to the apple of his warmed cheek.

Eddie smiles a tired, crooked smile in return.

With the sleep finally cleared from his eyes, he can see you much better. Now, freshened up, you look less like a casualty of the early morning. You’re glowing, smelling of vanilla and flower petals, beaming at him without the added weight of exhaustion. No one should look so pretty at this hour.

Or any hour, really.

“Yes, it is…” he lilts, a tad bit gruff with sleep.

Your cheeks speckle with hot embers.

Despite the very visceral reactions each of his compliments give you, you squint at him in return. “Are you always this charming so early in the morning?”

“When there’s a pretty girl in bed next to me, yeah.”

“Did you sleep okay?” you ask him, opting out of what would otherwise be ten minutes of meaningless banter.

“Better than I have in a long time,” Eddie answers without thinking. He says it with full sincerity but forgets to forgo the teasing inflection in his voice. It makes you roll your eyes, figuring he still must be mocking you.

He quickly adds: “And I’m not just saying that because you’re the pretty girl in bed next to me, alright? I promise.”

“Good,” you hum with a tightlipped smile. “‘Cause I slept pretty good, too... You’re like a personal space heater, you know?”

It makes sense, really, for such a spitfire to radiate such warmth. And you, lacking enough blankets to stay sufficiently cozy throughout the night, took to Eddie like honey on toast. He was a weighted blanket, a heating pad, and a teddy bear rolled into one.

You think he might be the most comfortable person you’ve ever slept with — in the most literal sense, of course. But you’ll keep that to yourself, lest you break Robin Buckley’s heart.

“Is that why you kept putting your cold feet on me all night?” he jokes.

Your cheeks blot with heat all over again. Your face scrunches softly, partly in embarrassment but mostly in apology. “Sorry…” your murmur.

“It’s okay,” he shrugs. His assurance comes swiftly, a brisk slap in the face to your simmering worry that you might’ve made him uncomfortable in some way. Eddie often forgets how quick you are to take the blame for something. Or to find a too literal meaning in one of his dumb jokes.

He makes a mental note to work on that. He can’t have his best girl thinking she’s less than perfect because he never learned to think before he speaks.

“I’m just glad I could be of service, sweetheart.”

“So you don’t regret sleeping over?” you wonder like a meek child, voice tiny and gaze swimming with timidity — expecting rejection.

“No,” he answers assuredly and with the curt shake of his head. His lips jut softly out as he turns his gaze to the ceiling. He seems to think to himself for a moment before turning his umber irises back to you again, nose scrunched. “I don’t think I could regret anything with you, honestly.”

You know there are a lot of things you could do in this moment.

You could squeal like a teenage girl and run around your tiny apartment. With the burst of energy his affection gives you, you think you could take a lap around the block in five seconds flat.

You could also smack a kiss to his lips if you wanted. You could kiss him and keep on kissing him until both of you are blue in the face.

Or you could pretend you’re not all that affected by his words. You could play it cool, joke around like this foreign fluttering feeling in your belly is one you’ve felt before.

It’s too easy to choose the latter.

“Wow,” you lilt with wide eyes, dragging out the vowel for effect. “The charm really charged up overnight, huh?”

“You caught me at a good time,” he quips.

“I’m honestly a little impressed.”

“Well, be prepared to be fucking baffled, sweetheart, ‘cause I’m not getting out of this bed all day,” he threatens, brown eyes twinkling and pink lips curling.

He rises from the mattress to lean over you. His slender figure cages yours in the same way his words do. Both are equally as warm and all-consuming.

The offer is bold and not really an offer at all. He could easily blame it on the weather if he needed to. He could bluff and say it was because of the pounding rain outside — not because being away from you for too long hurts like burning lungs screeching for air.

If you take angst with his self-invite, there are a million lies he could come up with on the spot. But he knows you won’t. You’re too kind for your own good, and you love on him more than he deserves.

So, it really shouldn’t surprise him when you smile and wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer. Eddie has to fight back a shiver that crawls up his spine when your fingers curl into his untamed hair.

“Good,” you hum again, mouth parting to welcome his own shortly after.

He kisses you like he was made to do it. Your lips interlock, break apart, then press together again in an even rhythm. It’s like nodding your head to your favorite song — Eddie doesn’t have to think about doing it, he just does it.

It makes you wonder when he stopped overthinking each of his movements with you. His confidence bloomed like a flower, too gradual for you to catch. You only know that he’s blossomed wholly now. He’s at ease and finally comfortable with you. That’s all you ever wanted in the first place.

Your lips separate with an audible click when Eddie pulls away from you.

“Should I brush my teeth?” he wonders with furrowed brows, made self-conscious by the minty freshness on your tongue.

He’s sort of looking for guidance here. Really, his question is, do couples care about morning breath, or do they love each other too much to think about it?

“I feel like I probably have crazy morning breath.”

“It’s not too bad,” you shake your head and fight the urge to tell him you’ve tasted far worse than stupid morning breath. You don’t want your slutty humor to sour the mood.

“No?”

“No. I promise. It’s fine.”

Eddie’s face scrunches for a moment as he thinks to himself. He tries to gauge whether or not you’re bluffing — if you really do mean it or if you like him too much to tell him that truth.

But maybe that’s what couples do. Maybe they don’t care about morning breath. Maybe they just love the other person enough to brush their teeth anyway.

He shakes his head. “I’ll be right back—”

“Eddie, don’t!” you plead, borderline whining when he threatens to slip out of your grip. You tighten your arms around his shoulders but don’t fight when he keeps inching away.

“I’ll be right back!”

Your mewls of displeasure are muffled when he reaches the bathroom.

Eddie stays gone for no longer than five minutes. He uses the toothbrush you bought for him to freshen up his mouth. He brushes them a tad bit aggressively in his haste. And when he gargles your spearmint mouthwash, he nearly chokes on it because he’s scrambling like a madman to get back to you.

He knows he’s got no real reason to rush other than his promise of being right back. Truth be told, he just hates depriving himself of you longer than he has to.

Despite having hurried, Eddie finds you all covered up and facing the opposite way of the door when he returns. “Did you survive?” he jokes as he walks back into your bedroom.

“No,” you answer into the pillow.

He laughs softly to himself when he crawls back into your bed, bounding over you and to the opposite side of the mattress. The blankets are still crumpled up in his shape. It’s all too easy to slip back in beside you — especially when you slither closer to him almost immediately.

“Poor thing,” Eddie coos at the sight of your playfully pouted lips. He ducks down to press a kiss to them.

The action comes so suddenly it makes your eyes go wide. You pull the blankets up to your chin. “What was that for?” you ask in a shy, warm murmur.

Eddie shrugs.

He doesn’t have an answer. He doesn’t know why he’s just kissed you or why he’s ever wanted to before. Sometimes it just feels right to.

“You just looked like you needed to be kissed,” he concludes.

Your grin widens. “I do.”

“I knew it.”

“Desperately so,” you affirm, only partly joking. “More than I need to breathe, in fact.”

“Ooh,” Eddie hums in return. “Guess I should keep kissing you then, huh?”

“Never ever stop kissing me, Eddie Munson.”

The confirmation of your yearning is all he really needs. Your playful but still wholehearted affirmation bats away his lingering insecurities. You want him like he wants you. The validation lets him melt emphatically into you like pancake syrup or marshmallow fluff.

Something sickly sweet and twice as sticky.

Your kisses are just the same. They’re languid and made of velvet. As they deepen, you begin to suck on the soft plush of his bottom lip. Your expert tongue swipes against his mostly unskilled one. It’s slow and easy and relaxed — like you’ve already been kissing him for an eternity with a willingness to kiss him for an eternity more.

“See?” Eddie teases, partly muffled against your mouth until he can pull far enough away to smile at you with his freshly brushed teeth. “Isn’t this better?”

“I thought I said to keep kissing me,” you answer, wrenching the collar of his shirt in your fists to pull him back down again.

“Yes, ma’am,” he jokes back. Thankfully, your mouth is already on his by the time his words settle over him. It wasn’t supposed to be sexual — but now, lying over you and between your legs, it feels sexual.

You don’t see the flash of shock on his features — not the wide eyes or the raised brows — but you do feel him tense. It’s like a rock is suddenly lying on top of you. You couldn’t make fun of him even if you wanted to, though. You’re exponentially wetter at his words.

Your innocent kisses become passionate. They’re wide, quicker, needier.

Weighed down by the heaviness of the moment, you don’t think twice when your hand trails down his chest.

Your touch is soft like rain. Your fingers drip drip drip down his torso and stomach, heading for the hem of his pajama pants. You hardly realize you’re doing it until Eddie’s hand wraps around your wrist.

He’s not pulling you away. He’s not even urging your closer. He’s just reminding you that you don’t have to.

“Sorry,” you mutter against his mouth anyway.

“Don’t be,” he assures, shaking his head as he pulls back from you. The edges of his fluffy curls tickle your jaw. “It’s my turn now, right?”

“Your… turn?” you echo.

“I mean... I gotta return the favor now. Right?”

He’s talking about the night before. About the head-rolling orgasm and the haze he’s been in ever since. It’s the only way he can ask to eat you out without stuttering over himself like an idiot. The only other time he’s been able to talk about it was that evening on the phone with you — when he held the plastic telephone in one hand and his cock in the other.

“Wish I’d gotten to taste you earlier,” he confessed, so close to his orgasm he could taste it. “I’m thinking about how I coulda taken you on that bench... Get on my knees for you… Shove my head between your legs…”

The longing to taste you hasn’t yet left him.

He knows he might’ve had the opportunity forever ago if he wasn’t such a loser. But now, all he can do is make some lame excuse that sounds a lot less enthusiastic than he feels. He figures it might be better than getting on his knees and outright begging to put his mouth on you, though.

“Eddie…” you mutter in a delicate whisper.

He lifts your wrist from between your bodies and lays it on the pillow beside your head. The move feels strangely dominant. It strikes a feeling of overwhelming desire within you. You know you’d do just about anything he wanted in that moment.

If he wants to make you feel good, that’s great. If he wants to use you to make himself feel good, that’s okay too. You don’t really care what he wants to do with you — to you. But you do want to know if he truly wants to do them.

“What’s that look for?” he asks at your bemused expression.

“You don’t have to.”

“I know,” Eddie nods.

He’s memorized the whole spiel already. Don’t do it if you feel like you have to, you always tell him. I’m fine just making you feel good if that’s all you wanna do. Or if you don’t wanna do anything at all. It’s all okay, I promise.

“Just because I did it for you doesn’t mean you have to—”

“I know,” he repeats, a bit more desperate than before. He drops his face down to nudge his nose against the bridge of yours, then rises again shortly after. “That was just my way of asking…”

“To eat me out?” you press.

Eddie nods.

“Well… You coulda just said.”

“Yeah,” the boy scoffs. “Because ‘good morning, can I perform cunnilingus on you’ is so romantic.”

You laugh. It does sound quite strange, but you only meant that most guys aren’t usually polite enough to ask. The few that care to return the favor at all just assume you want it without question.

Most times, you do.

But still, an invitation would be nice.

“Well, I would’ve said yes,” you manage through your giggles. “Just so you know.”

Eddie’s nose scrunches. “Really?”

“Totally. I mean, my legs would’ve been wide open immediately—”

It takes him a moment too long to realize you’re just messing with him. You’re serious, sort of, but still teasing. He huffs in annoyance and nods just to humor you. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Like— ‘Oh, my god, where did my underwear go?’”

“Shut up,” Eddie grouses despite his own laughter. He presses another kiss to your mouth, partly to end your harmless taunting but also because he thinks you’re so damn cute.

He didn’t think the girl people call the town slut would turn out to be such a dork. He almost can’t believe there was ever a time when you intimidated him — when he would walk on eggshells around you out of fear of losing cool points with you. You’re a bigger idiot than he is a lot of the time.

You try to kiss him back, but it’s hard when you’re smiling so wide.

“I’m kidding, but I’m serious,” you confess after he’s pulled away again. Your eyes sparkle as they flit between both of his cinnamon-tinted ones. “You have… no idea what you do to me, Eddie Munson.”

He figures that’s at least half true.

As easy as it is for him to you read most times, he finds it incredibly difficult to gauge what’s going on inside your head. He’s still confused (and a little concerned) at how he got you in the first place. He has no idea why you ever wanted to be his friend, let alone anything more than that.

But, on the other hand, he knows how he feels about you. It’s all pounding hearts and aching chests and swirling stomachs. You might be afflicted by the same sort of love bug he is.

“I don’t know,” he singsongs. “I think I might have an idea.”

“I can show you better than I can tell you,” you offer with his wrist already in hand.

Eddie props himself on one arm while his other journeys down the length of your body. He’s forced to mourn the feeling of your warm skin when your oversized t-shirt from the night before shields him from you. His grief is fleeting and quickly fulfilled when you guide his fingers through the hem of your underwear.

You’re far warmer beneath the cotton fabric. Wetter too. The pads of his fingertips slide over the thatch of trimmed hair at your pubic bone before settling over the softness of your lips. They feel like velvet compared to the silk they keep hidden.

His finger dips between them, just below the button of your clit, and it makes both of you moan. You, from a brief ripple of pleasure, and Eddie, from the notion that you’re this wet only for him.

“If you ever needed proof of how much I want you, here it is,” you tease, all breathy and with a pretty smile.

Eddie’s too overwhelmed by the feel of you to respond. Overcome with the want to touch you all over, all he can do is duck down for another kiss. It’s abrupt and a bit jejune — noses knocking together before your lips can meet properly.

Eddie feels you smile against his mouth and exhale a laugh through your nose. He’s too clouded with lust to care that you’re finding humor in him. Too affected by his adoration for you to feel humiliated.

Several moments pass like that one. With his lips caressing yours the same way his hand caresses your cunt. He seems to be more focused on feeling you than rushing you towards an orgasm.

He spends ample time tracing the edges of your pussy. He circles the swelling button of your clit before dipping down to feel your hole clench around nothing as it threatens to suck his fingers inside. He’s only memorizing you — committing every inch of your cunt to memory — lest it be the last time he ever gets to touch you.

You wonder if he knows where to go from here, what to do next.

You decide it might be better to guide him anyway. For his sake and for yours.

“Should I take them off?” you ask.

Eddie nods. The tip of his nose glides against yours, and the ends of his hair brush the sides of your face. He parts from you and sits back on his haunches. When your hands reach for your underwear, his dart out to stop you.

“Wait,” he protests, your wrists in his grip. “Let me do it.”

You trap your bottom lip between your teeth to hide your smile and rest your hands obediently on your stomach as Eddie’s fingers curl around the hem of your panties. His touch is much colder compared to your warmed skin. It makes you wonder if he’s nervous.

When he tugs your panties down, you lift your hips to aid him. He pulls the fabric up your thighs and over your legs, then balls the cotton in his fist to chuck them rather dramatically over his shoulder. You hear it land somewhere on the floor behind him. It makes you giggle.

He’s too distracted to hear you, though.

You watch him watch you. His chocolate eyes are wide as they blink down at you like they’ve never seen you before. His palms absentmindedly caress the very backs of your thighs, keeping you nice and spread for him so he can gape at your glistening pussy without issue.

You figure this must be what virgins do — stare in absolute wonder at the first vagina they ever see. You certainly gawked at Steve Harrington’s inhumanely large cock the night he took your virginity.

It was a lifetime ago now, but you still remember how the leather of his backseat stuck to your sweaty skin and how his car rocked with each of his languid thrusts.

It’s sort of what Eddie’s doing now, making mental notes of everything so he’ll never forget them. And as proud as it makes you feel, you can’t help but writhe in self-consciousness below him.

“I hate when you do that…” you half-whine within your half-joke.

Eddie feels your thighs tense and drift closed. He lets you half-heartedly shield yourself, but the attempt is futile. You can’t quite shut your legs from where he sits between them. He rubs soothingly along the outsides of your knees.

“Do what?” he wonders with furrowed brows.

“Look at me like that…”

It doesn’t lessen his confusion.

He hadn’t seen anything wrong with what he was doing before. You were his girlfriend, after all — surely he was allowed to look at you every now and then.

Eddie figures he can’t be blamed for it anyway. Looking at you was like looking at the moon or the ocean. It only felt right to awe at your beauty, even if it is one he’s already amply admired.

But it’s different, still.

The moon didn’t rise for him. Oceans didn’t touch horizons for him. But your cunt, made of the finest silk and looking just the same, glistened all for him. Just for him.

“I’m not allowed to look at you?” he laughs.

“No one’s ever, like… stopped and looked at me before,” you confess, still wriggling like you can’t quite get comfortable. You’ll never get used to being ogled at like a piece of fine ancient art when, at best, you feel like some mundane painting that might suffice in a motel lobby. “It’s weird…”

“Well, it’s not my fault you’re so pretty.”

“Shut up,” you laugh but wholeheartedly accept the kiss he threatens you with anyway.

It’s a simple peck. A sweet one. An easy one. Not too deep, but passionate still.

Eddie forces himself to pull back again. He loses his usually playful disposition and grows quite boyishly serious. “Not to be, like, super lame or whatever, but you’re probably gonna have to tell me what to do and stuff because I’ve never—”

“It’s okay,” you interject, still as gentle as ever. You know he hates having to remind you, and himself, that he isn’t well-versed in the means of pleasuring you. No one likes asking for guidance, especially not when it comes to the intricacies of sexual pleasures.

But, as Hawkins’ resident expert on the matter, you know no one gets good at a thing like this without asking for help every now and then.

“I’ll help you, Eds,” you promise in a seductive lilt and with a mischievous grin.

Your hands rise to his flushed cheeks to pull him down for another kiss. This one is much more ardent than his peck had been.

Eddie takes the lead. Not so much with ease, but without any push from you.

Your lips separate with a wet smack, only for his rosy ones to migrate down your jaw. His mouth trails down your neck, tongue darting out to lick you there. His smile curls against your skin when it makes you shiver.

He moves further downward, copying what you had done the night before. The kisses feel a lot less effective when pressed over your shirt. He kisses the fabric at your sternum where the faded face of Debbie Harry is printed.

You hold back your laughter when he huffs in frustration.

“Can we— Can I just take this off?” he wonders, impatient and annoyed with the thing, already tugging at its hem.

Your giggle escapes without warning.

Eddie lets you tug the shirt up and over your body without asking to do it for you. You let the fabric fall from your outstretched arm onto the floor beside your bed.

For the first time, you’re totally bare before him.

He’s seen bits and pieces of you, of course. Enough to know what you look like. Enough to think of you when he jerks off in the shower. Eddie’s seen enough of your body to fall in love with it — but to experience its glory in its entirety is much, much different.

“You’re doing it again…” you complain playfully. You feign displeasure when really you just hate feeling like a piece of glass.

“Shh…” Eddie shushes you. His glazed-over eyes don’t stop glossing over your naked body. “Let me look at you…”

You let him.

And he just looks at you. For several agonizing moments, all he does is look at you.

He commits every inch of you to memory. The rise and fall of your breasts with each of your anticipatory breaths. The pudge of your belly that pairs so nicely with the plush of your hips. The way his hands fit perfectly hugging your sides.

He caresses you up and down — from your ribcage to your stomach to your hips. He settles on your thighs and finds himself squeezing you there again, though he isn’t totally sure why. He just doesn’t know what else to do with such a beautiful thing other than to hold tightly onto it.

Eddie leans down again to press a kiss to your newly bare skin, right between your breasts, and you’re not sure why you’re moaning, but you are. There’s something quite tender in the intimacy you’ve been deprived of for so long.

His lips trickle down down down your body like gentle drops of summer rain. He moves with the ease of someone who’s done this before. He’s forgotten to be nervous.

When he gets to your stomach, he leaves another kiss just below your belly button. His heavy breaths fan over your cunt when he ignores it completely and instead decides to pay tender attention to the insides of your thighs. His arms curl around them. It feels like he’s embracing them.

You watch him, a little amused with the whole thing — with this unsure boy between your legs. You don’t even realize you’re smiling.

One hand snakes into the curls at the crown of his hand, and the other sits contently over his knuckles along your thigh.

“Just kiss my pussy like you’re kissing me now,” you guide gently. The moan he exhales fans against your skin. “Whenever you’re ready, okay? There’s no rush. You’re already doing great, Eds.”

“Don’t talk like that,” he mutters into your inner thigh.

“I can’t compliment you?”

“No, I’m talking about— about your… pussy.”

“What’s wrong with saying pussy?” you giggle.

“What’s wrong with it?” Eddie echoes with wide, inquisitive eyes. His swollen mouth curls into a grin as he laughs alongside you. “It’s gonna make me fucking explode without you even touching me — that’s what’s wrong with it.”

“That’s… really hot, actually,” you admit rather candidly.

Something about Eddie finding his own sort of pleasure in pleasuring you makes you somehow needier for him.

He shakes his head, feeling like he’s being teased again. “Shut up…”

“I mean it,” you assure, then decide to joke. “But I guess I can get, like, anatomical or whatever if it’ll make you feel better.”

Now he knows you’re teasing.

Eddie rolls his eyes at you and turns his attention back to the warmed skin of your inner thigh. “Jesus Christ…” he grouses to himself just before pressing his lips there. He doesn’t know how to be anything but tender with you. Even when you are being a dumbass.

“Oh, Edward— please touch my vagina,” you joke with all the makings of a pornstar plucked from the Victorian age.

“I hate you so much,” the boy laughs despite his delicate kisses on your body.

“Your tongue feels so good on my labia minora—”

Eddie separates from you, then, meeting your playful smile with a much more cynical grin. “Stop talking,” he directs with raised brows and wide eyes, looking like a parent slowly losing patience with an unruly child. “Unless you want me to shut you up myself.”

He doesn’t mean anything by the half-hearted threat. It wasn’t even supported to be dirty — he just sort of said it because he was tired of being the butt of the joke. It’s rare for him to be on the receiving end of any teasing because, most times, he’s too busy dishing it.

But you go quiet almost immediately. Your smile ebbs as your eyes go big and glassy. Eddie can’t help but feel like he’s just done something horribly wrong.

His grin fades and a childlike gape of horror floods his features. “Hey, I was just— I was just kidding. I didn’t mean it like… I’m just an idiot, okay? I’m sorry.”

You don’t mean to laugh, but you do.

He’s apologizing like he’s just done something irreversible, something awful he’ll never be able to take back. All he really did, though, was turn you on so desperately you had to remind yourself to breathe.

“It’s okay, Eds. It’s okay,” you assure through a burst of horribly suppressed giggles. “I liked it. It just— It surprised me. That’s all.”

“You liked me telling you to shut up?” Eddie wonders with furrowed brows. He’s not judging you, exactly, just confused and a little relieved.

“Not exactly. I just… I like when you’re assertive. You know, dominant?”

“Right,” he nods, but you can tell he still doesn’t quite get it.

You figure you’ll have ample opportunity to bring his gentle dominance to light. Just not this time. You think if you explained to him now, how he can have his mouth on your pussy and still have all the power, his brain might implode on itself.

“Just kiss me, Eds,” you guide, direct but still soft.

He shifts on the mattress. You can feel him getting ready to rise and lean over you again. Your hand in his hair tightens to stop him.

“Not there,” you hint.

Your smile is kind, yet playful. Sarcastic, yet sensual. Every one of your expressions is so complex. There are a million beautiful and conflicting labyrinthine flitters to your features he could point out to you.

Meanwhile, his face only goes lax with the realization. Dumbfounded and, well, just dumb.

“Oh…”

“Don’t overthink it,” you instruct quickly when you see him retreating to the shell of his mind. “I know it’s hard to, but… I’m gonna like anything you do, okay? I promise.”

Of course, your assurance quells perhaps his biggest problem — the oh shit, what if nothing I do feels good because I don’t know what I’m doing problem. But when he’s finally face-to-face with your glittering cunt, wetter than it had been just moments ago, he’s got no idea where to start.

He wants to touch you all over. He wants to dive in deep with his tongue and make you unravel entirely underneath him. He’s almost sure, though, that no guy’s ever got anywhere from being overzealous. Or worse, overconfident.

So he just kisses you. Like you asked. He presses his lips to the button of your clit in a peck he would otherwise insist upon your mouth.

The pleasure is fleeting. Negligible, at best. It’s a brief flash of distant lightning from your cunt to your spine. Your hips cant towards his mouth anyway, desperate for more of what he’s teasing you with.

Eddie’s eyes flutter open again. He licks his lips and tastes traces of you on them. His half-hard cock stiffens between his body and your mattress, trapped in the most delicious feeling.

“Good?” he asks you.

He knows he hasn’t done much. He just wants to make sure you’re okay with this — with him — or even that you’re just okayat all. He doesn’t want to do anything before he knows you’re comfortable.

You nod. “Good,” you echo, already breathless.

“Can I… Can I do more?”

“You can do whatever you want, Eds.”

And while that isn’t the most helpful in terms of guiding him, it gives him the go-ahead to touch you all over. That’s all he really wanted in the first place.

At a loss of where to start, Eddie begins to mirror what he’s seen in the movies — the rated XXX kind. He licks a flat stripe up the length of your cunt, from its opening to its apex. The irregular pattern of his tongue is much rougher compared to your smooth silk.

For a guy who has no idea what he’s doing, you seem to like it well enough. You exhale a low moan through an agape mouth, bucking your hips in a desperate attempt to follow his touch.

“You like that?” Eddie wonders. Just to be sure.

Your keen fades to a soft laugh. “Are you gonna ask if I like everything you do before you do it?”

“I just, you know… wanna make sure…”

Make sure I’m doing okay, he thinks to himself. Make sure it feels good for you and that I’m not making a total fool of myself.

“Here’s some advice,” you start, rising on your elbows to see him better. “If a girl’s moaning, that means she likes it. You can totally tell when they’re fake, I promise. Checking in every once in a while is good, but really the best time to ask is when she stops moaning, okay?”

“Yeah,” he nods, features gaping with wonderment. You think if you gave him a pen and paper right now, he’d start taking notes. “Okay.”

“Visual cues are always the best in terms of, you know, making sure someone’s into what you’re doing.”

“Visual… Cues…?” Eddie echoes slowly. Like a total idiot.

“Yeah. Like, if you can feel her getting wetter or if her legs are shaking… Things like that.”

The boy nods to himself. “Right…”

“I’ll tell you if I don’t like something, okay? Or if I want you to do more of something,” you assure. Your fingers scratch gently at the back of his head to seal your promise. “I’m here to help you, yeah? I’m like your… personal sex trainer. I’m gonna turn you into a professional, Eds.”

Instead of telling you that he doesn’t care much about being a professional anything — that he doesn’t need to learn how to make every girl feel good as long as he’s making you feel good — he just scoffs and gets to work again.

Eddie licks at your pussy with languid strokes, focusing mainly on your clit because it makes you moan the loudest for him. He full-on makes out with your cunt like he would your mouth, just like you asked.

It’s passionate and a little sloppy. He uses his tongue to spread you open as though he were prying into your mouth. He sucks your clit between his lips as though he were nipping at the plush cushion of your bottom one. It’s easier that way, to think of eating you out as expressing a sort of tenderness.

Making you feel good is just a bonus.

According to your pithy list, you seem to be enjoying yourself. Getting wetter? Check. Legs shaking? Check. You’re moaning quite a lot, too — breathy, deep, and satiny ones that make him groan against you.

Both of you are too far gone to notice Eddie’s hips grinding into the mattress. His neglected cock finds a distant relief with every half-hearted pass against the cotton.

Every delicate choice Eddie makes with your pussy is so easily felt.

He was nervous at first. If that fact weren’t already obvious to you, you would’ve known by the unsure kisses to your clit. He was trying to gauge your reaction, figure out what you liked most. Then, when he got more comfortable, so did his mouth. His kisses grew more confident, more languid, more unaware of himself.

Suddenly, and perhaps with the fleeting thought to heighten your pleasure by doing something different, Eddie starts doing more with his tongue. He becomes less confident, less languid, less himself.

He traces a sharp A along your pussy, quickly followed by a rounded B. You clock it immediately because you’ve felt it so many times before. And though it still feels quite nice, you find yourself laughing.

When Eddie feels you softly trembling, his chest swells with pride. He thinks you must be quivering with pleasure. A second later, he realizes you’re laughing.

His swollen mouth smacks when he pulls away from your pussy, lips glistening with your slick. He gapes at you with horrified honey eyes. “What?” he slurs, slightly drunk on the taste of you.

“Are you doing the ABCs?” you ask him, still giggling.

Eddie falters at having been caught so quickly. “…No.”

“That’s the oldest trick in the book, Munson. Every guy does it. I can tell you’re doing the ABC thing, babe.”

“I, uh… I read it in a magazine,” he confesses with his cheeks glowing red.

“I know,” you hum softly. “It’s okay. It still felt good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I told you I would tell you, so I’m telling you,” you remind with a gentle smile. “Do you still want help?”

“Yeah,” he repeats, more sure now.

“If you want to use your tongue, you can put it where you’d normally put your fin— oh—” Your attempt to guide him ends in a tiny, broken moan when Eddie dives in quicker than you expect him to.

You thought he might take a second to hesitate, to ask if you were still sure like he always does. But, for perhaps the first time with you, he doesn’t think twice. He slips his eager tongue into the satin of you with an obviously unpracticed motion, and you whine pathetically underneath him.

It’s not how easily his tongue slithers into you.

It’s not how he explores the walls of your cunt like undiscovered territory.

It’s not even how the tip of his nose nudges your clit in a manner that can only be described as merciless.

What really gets you is the thought that he’s only ever done this with you — that you’re the only girl he’s ever tasted, that your pussy is the first to grace his tongue. The proud, borderline possessive feeling is nearly as gratifying as his mouth.

You can barely talk through Eddie’s attempts to swallow you whole. Every time his nose bumps your clit when he flicks his tongue just so, an electric shock shoots down your spine. You’re slowly forgetting how words work.

You try to coach him through it anyway.

“Most girls… They, uh— They like when you switch between your tongue and your… your mouth. But I, um… I like this for a while— fuck, Eds.” You throw your head back when he audibly slurps at your drooling pussy. His own moan is muffled against you as your hand tightens in his hair.

It takes a moment or three to catch your breath again.

“But when I get close, like… right before I’m about to come, I usually like when guys— oh— when they suck on my clit—”

And even though you’re not exactly talking dirty to him, your words make Eddie groan against you anyway. The heavy grunt is hummed into your cunt — low and rumbling like thunder that travels the length of your body in the same resounding way.

Eating pussy was easier than Eddie thought it might be.

It had its little intricacies, of course, but it wasn’t too hard once he got the hang of it. Your tip on visual cues helped him more than you realize. It really was all in the optics.

You clenched around his tongue every time his nose accidentally bumped your clit, so he started to do it more intentionally. When he focused on your sensitive button and pulsating cunt at the same time, your pussy dripped more honey on his tongue. You moaned louder for him too, begged for him outright.

“Eddie, please,” you whined. “Right there, Eddie.”

“Oh, your tongue feels so good, Eds.”

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.”

But just because it was easy didn’t mean it was effortless.

His tongue gets quickly tired from such fervent use. His jaw aches from the constant open-shut motion of the joint. His neck grows sore and stiff from its constant tilted position.

It makes it harder for him to touch you how he wants to — harder to make you feel as good as he needs to. So when your vocal moans turn into quieter whimpers, he parts from your pussy with a loud smack and gives his mouth a break.

You whine at the loss of him, immediately cold without his mouth covering you.

You’re crying out again the second he replaces his tongue with his thumb. He presses the pad of it to your clit — not rough, exactly, just eager and firm.

To be touched so ardently in a place so delicate feels like you’ve been dipped in scalding hot water. And, being that you’re more sensitive there than most tend to be, your body reacts accordingly to the suddenness of his touch. Your hips buck upward, legs closing on instinct.

Eddie’s in the line of fire for all of it.

“Shit, Eds,” you grimace when your knee smacks his jaw. You rise on one arm and use the other to caress his cheek. Your thumb rubs at the skin there in a futile attempt to soothe the ache. “I’m sorry…”

“It’s okay,” the boy answers with an immediate shake of his head. With his eyes still glassy and his tongue still tasting of you, he only wants to put his mouth on you again. Despite the distant throbbing in his jaw, he grins. “Didn’t even feel it.”

He had, of course. The dull feeling is ebbing. Slowly.

But it’s still okay.

Eddie turns his attention back to your pussy. His arms curl around your thighs again. Now that he’s not busy devouring you, he can see how wet you’ve gotten.

Honey leaks relentlessly from your pussy. He feels almost undeserving of the amount you give him. It darkens the sheets beneath you and clings to your skin like silk.

It’s lewd and sinful. Beautiful, still.

“Shit, babe,” Eddie sighs to himself. “You’re fucking— You’re dripping.”

You know you are. You can feel it. It trails slowly from your pulsating cunt to your ass and wets the sheets below you. You’re a little embarrassed, to have made such a mess without even orgasming.

He swears he sees you wince.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t. Don’t do that. Don’t apologize,” Eddie directs with a practiced swiftness. “It’s hot. It’s... really fucking hot, okay? I mean, it’s like… Your pussy’s fucking drooling for me.”

You’re moaning at the vulgarity of his words before he ever puts his mouth on you.

It doesn’t take long for the pleasure to crescendo again. The distant orgasm looms nearer and nearer, like a storm cloud rolling in. You barely have time to realize you’re succumbing to the heavenly feeling before it’s already there.

“I’m about to come, Eds,” you manage to warn, half-slurring and already seeing stars.

Eddie answers with another low moan into your pussy.

He remembers what you told him, slides his mouth from your velvet walls and migrates to your clit. His mouth engulfs the sensitive button. He sucks it between his lips, flicking his tongue along the very peak of it.

And you? You were already long now. Now you feel like you might as well be in outer fucking space.

“Oh my god, Eddie,” you whine pathetically, trapped in the dense haze of immense pleasure.

You feel all of it and none of it, all at once. Your hips buck forward and backward, trying to chase the feeling and run away from it, too. You don’t realize it, but you’re all but grinding against Eddie’s mouth.

He can’t do a single damn thing but revel in it.

A distant part of his consciousness registers that his hips are rolling against your mattress. The thought is too far away to make him stop, though.

What was he supposed to do, anyway — when a pretty girl was making even prettier sounds for him, begging for him to keep making her feel good? It made him so hard it hurt.

Eddie grinds his stiff cock into your bed and tries to relieve the overwhelming pressure you and your lewd noises burden him with. He moans against you without thinking.

You figure he must be torturing you, using the vibrations as a weapon to make your orgasm that much more forceful. Really though, Eddie’s just coming in his pants for the second time since being with you.

His cock spurts several unforgiving loads into the cotton of his underwear. He buries his pitiful moans and whimpers into your pussy, hips still rocking through his high.

You come right along with him.

Your back arches, unintentionally pushing your cunt further into his mouth. “Fuck, Eddie—” you cry, high and fragile, as you drip more honey for him. Your mouth falls agape in a silent moan that leaves in another feeble whine a moment later.

And Eddie, never having been a man who knows his limits, has no idea when to stop.

He doesn’t particularly want to. He thinks he could probably eat your pussy forever, though the lingering ache in his jaw and neck begs to differ. The way you say his name when you come for him — over and over and over again — would make the pain worth it.

“Eddie—” you gasp for the hundredth or millionth time when his tongue swipes across your clit again. Your hips twitch at the sensitivity. You’re forced to pull him away by his hair.

You begin to laugh to yourself as your high slowly subsides. The breathy giggle that falls from your lips sounds delirious, almost, as your fuzzy brain comes down from the clouds again.

Eddie, just as incoherent as you, presses sloppy kisses to the insides of your thigh. His heavy eyes flutter open to find you smiling tiredly at the ceiling. “Good?” he wonders through labored breaths.

It’s a “Was that good for you?” as much as a “Are you back now?”

You trap your smile between your teeth as you nod.

Tilting your ear to your shoulder, you peer down the expanse of your body to where the wild-headed boy lies between your legs. His flushed cheek rests along your inner thigh. Your fingers dance through his curls.

“I might just make a professional out of you yet, Eddie Munson.”

A grin tugs slow at the edges of his swollen mouth.

He rises so he’s leaning over you again and doesn’t waste a second to start kissing you — the same way he’d been kissing your cunt moments ago. His rosy lips are still slick with you. You can taste the briny tang of your honey upon them.

Before you have time to acknowledge any of it, though, something sticky presses into your stomach. You blame yourself for it almost immediately. It wouldn’t have been the first time you’ve stained someone’s pants. A second later, you realize it couldn’t have been you. So it must have been Eddie.

The crotch of his pants is wet because he came in them.

“Eds,” you murmur into his kiss.

“Hm?” he hums and pulls back with furrowed brows.

“Did you… um…” you trail off, trying to find the best way to ask your question without sounding like you’re making fun of him.

You’ve noticed he tends to get a little self-conscious about these things — conversations that remind him that he’s mature but not at all experienced. You often approach the topic with caution. Likely the same way he does with you and subjects on promiscuity.

Eddie’s face twists further in confusion. It makes you wonder if he even noticed.

The flash of realization on his face is evident. As soon as his come cools and leaves the fabric of his underwear sticking to his skin, his eyes go wide and he jerks away from you. “Shit. Sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize. It’s fine,” you assure him quickly, chasing him as he sits up again. Your legs curl beneath you as Eddie’s hang over the mattress.

“No, it’s not,” he scoffs out a laugh. “It’s lame.”

You reach for his face and take his cheeks in your gentle hands to make him look at you. You meet his sheepish gaze with a softer smile. “It’s sexy,” you correct. “This isn’t even the first time you’ve done it. It’s not a big deal to me. You know that.”

“Yeah, it was lame then, too.”

Your smile widens as you shake your head at him.

It wouldn’t matter if you provided him an itemized list of everything he did that you found attractive — sexually or otherwise — he still wouldn’t believe you. He’d just laugh and say you were joking, probably find a way to make fun of you for it like he always does.

“You have a crush on me?” he’d tease. “That’s so gross…”

Rather than press the issue, you leave a chaste peck on his mouth.

“I’m gonna shower,” you say, still holding him. “Then we can go get breakfast or something.”

The smug smirk he gives you isn’t surprising.

“Ooh,” he hums. “A shower, huh? Sounds fun.”

“Alone.”

“Why?” he wonders with a pout.

“Because we’re adults and not a couple of teenagers. We’ve got better things to do than fuck like rabbits all day.”

You’re serious, for the most part. Even a slut’s got to have her own boundaries. You didn’t get the title by having sex every chance you could — not exactly, anyway. The art was in the chase. You get your prey clouded by lust until it’s all they can do not to fuck you. That’s when you strike.

It’s why you weren’t just a slut. You were the slut.

But still, there was more to your rejection, a deeper meaning to it you keep to your chest like playing cards out of pure embarrassment.

You don’t think you could keep your hands to yourself — not with Eddie’s bare body pressing against yours after bringing you to an orgasm that had you seeing stars with nothing but his mouth.

And you want so desperately to take things slow, to make all of his firsts special. You want to wait, but he makes it so damn hard.

“I’m gonna go shower,” you repeat and place a barely-there kiss to his lips before you go. You pluck your shirt from the floor and throw it haphazardly over your naked frame. “There’s some tissues on the dresser if you wanna clean up!” you shout from the hallway right before Eddie hears the bathroom door click shut.

You’re gone for twenty minutes.

The shower was far quicker than the more drawn-out ones you’re privy to, especially when you’ve got a pretty boy over. You don’t see the point in doing the whole routine now, anyway. Eddie had already seen you naked — tasted you, no less. It doesn’t make sense to care about stubbly legs and frizzy hair now.

When you return to the bedroom for fresh clothes, you find the boy lying in the center of your bed. He’s got Bowie on his belly and your basket of cassettes at his side. He slouches against the headboard and flips through them like index cards, occasionally humming to himself when he finds one he particularly likes.

There’s something really special about the sight before you. This beautiful boy with wild hair has made himself comfortable in your bedroom — amid all your pretty decorations and with your less-than-affectionate cat.

Eddie’s at home in your home. Like he’s always been there. Like he’ll never leave.

“I don’t know if you wanna shower or not, but I might have some t-shirts you can change into,” you tell him absentmindedly as you search through your drawers for something to wear. You rifle through the folded clothes with one hand, using the other to hold your towel to your chest.

You’re looking for something pretty but casual — something fitting for a day at home that’ll still make Eddie compliment you.

“But I don’t know if I have sweatpants…” you caution. “Or boxers.”

Eddie shrugs. “It’s okay. I brought some extra clothes.”

He slips out of bed and tucks Bowie neatly back into the mattress. When he emerges from beneath the covers, you find he’s already changed. He’s still in the same shirt, but he’s wearing different underwear. They’re as baggy and thin as the ones he made a mess in, just a new shade of plaid.

“Oh,” you hum, smirking. “That is very presumptuous of you, sir.”

You hold the tank top and shorts you’d picked to your chest as Eddie walks the short distance to meet you. He rolls his eyes at your insinuation. “Not like that. I’m just… an idiot. And I don’t know how to pack… Also, I was nervous.

“Nervous?” you echo.

“Yeah,” he confesses, shifting his weight on his feet. Nervous, still. He grins to cover it. “First time spending the night alone with a pretty girl… I think that’s something pretty normal to be nervous about.”

You get it. You do. It’s not like you didn’t spend the entirety of your afternoon agonizing over all this the day before. You just hate that Eddie was nervous, too. That you hadn’t made him feel better.

“You don’t have to be nervous around me, Eddie,” you promise.

“You don’t make me nervous. I make me nervous,” he corrects.

Your brows pinch together in confusion.

He explains. “‘Cause I wanna, like… Impress you and everything…”

You smile. Then nod. “You do.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Every day,” you answer like it’s obvious. “You always give me something new to like.”

Eddie hopes his face isn’t as red-hot as it feels.

“What was it today then, huh?” he wonders with a teasing lilt as he takes one step closer to you. His chest rubs against the hands holding your clothes and towel. His fingers settle along your waist. “Or is it too early in the day to ask?”

“Your tongue,” you answer honestly, but with a seductive undertone — just to make him melt.

It works.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

You finish getting ready in the bathroom.

The tank top you chose is simple and white ribbed — an easy four-quarters at the thrift store. The neck of it comes up too high to reveal much of your cleavage, but it clings to you like it was made to do it.

Your shorts are much of the same. Cheap. A little boring. They’re floral patterned and frilled at the bottoms. If you pull the top of them to your belly button, the edges of your ass threaten to poke out.

You’re feeding Bowie in the kitchen when Eddie returns from the bedroom. He’s dressed for the day in his usual attire — the thrifted concert merch and baggy jean duo. The all-black outfit matches the stormy weather outside. It’s quite the opposite of your brighter garb, though.

You don’t realize he’s there until he’s pressing himself against you, effectively pinning you against the counter. His arms wrap around your waist, embracing you almost, as he tucks his face into your shoulder.

“You look pretty,” he mumbles into your skin.

You giggle as you fork cat food into Bowie’s bowl. “You’re so cuddly today.”

Eddie grins against your neck. “Is that a bad thing?”

“Of course not! I just had to chase you all night because you refused to snuggle.”

Your use of the word snuggle makes him scoff. He parts from you and leans his hip against the counter beside you. “Sorry for the worst sleeper known to man. Sue me.”

You slide the calico her food and set the fork down with it as you turn to face the boy. You instantly notice he looks different from before but can’t quite gauge why. More of his face is visible than usual — the edges of his rosy cheeks and the pale points of his jaw.

It takes you several embarrassing moments to realize his hair is tied up.

He’s done a rather haphazard job of it. Several strands have been left out of the knot at the back of his head. It’s not entirely pulled through the tie either, so it’s in this vaguely shaped messy bun. You figure it was more to get his curls out of his face than anything remotely stylistic.

“…What?” he murmurs at your silent stare, head jutting slightly backward. “What is it?”

“Nothing. Sorry,” you apologize and shake your head out of its stupor. Your squeezed-shut eyes open again and twinkle when you smile. “It’s just… Your hair…”

Eddie hadn’t expected you to notice. He does it so often he forgets how different it makes him look.

Long curly hair was totally metal, but it was annoying. He usually keeps a hair tie in his bedroom for when it’s particularly bothersome. Being that he was without one now, he thought the pale pink scrunchie on your dresser would do the trick.

His pale hand instinctually darts to his head. He scratches at his hair, loosening the already slacked strands. “Yeah, I, uh… I used one of your hair ties,” he admits, embarrassed but unsure why. “I hope that’s… okay?”

“Of course, it’s okay,” you tell him, laughing. “I’ve just never seen you with your hair pulled back. It’s cute.”

It takes everything in him not to crumble when your hand rises to his face and combs through his hair. Your gentle fingers tuck a few ornery strands behind his ear, then rest on his jaw.

You’ve got a vague hint of a smile on your lips, one of wonderment almost, like you can’t believe he’s real. You look at him like he’s some beautiful thing you can’t believe managed to get more beautiful.

He loves it so much that he hates it. He needs it so much that he can’t help but shy away from it.

“Well, I’m nothing if not adorable,” he jests with a sheepish grin and tilts his reddened cheek towards his shoulder.

“Damn right…”

Eddie’s too slow in his shyness to meet you halfway like he typically would. It leaves you doing most of the work — standing taller to reach his mouth, wrapping your arms around his neck to press more wholly against him. You smack a single kiss to his mouth and pull back to admire him with a smile.

His hands settle on your waist, at the very apex of your hips, where they always seem to gravitate. He kisses you this time in a longer, languid, more drawn-out thing. The constant locking and separating pattern of your lips persists through the sounds of rolling thunder and a cat lapping rather dramatically at her food.

Even as someone knocks at your door with several sharp raps, you’re less than enthusiastic to part from him.

Eddie separates from you when he realizes you aren’t planning to. “Do you wanna get that?” he asks, figuring you must not have heard it over the rain or the feeling of him.

“No. It’s probably nothing. They’ll leave,” you assure him quickly, desperate to feel him again.

Eddie, similarly longing, only nods. His tongue darts out to wet his lips before he leans down to kiss you again.

The knocking returns. Louder now. A female voice accompanies it. “I don’t know if you’re asleep in there or something, but it’s fucking pouring out here! So if you could let me in, that’d be great!”

You part from Eddie suddenly, a tad bit aggressively, and without thinking twice.

It’s like a switch has been flipped within you, from indifference to immediate concern. You hear Eddie start a question — a trailed of “who’s…?” — but you’re out of the kitchen before he can finish it. You’re at the front door in a few quick strides, swinging it open before you realize you’re doing it.

It’s like muscle memory, almost. To come when you hear that voice calling.

Seeing Max Mayfield on your doorstep isn’t the most surprising thing in the world. It’s pretty expected, actually, but seeing her now — in the pouring rain, with nothing but her skateboard? You’d be a little impressed if you weren’t so shocked.

“What are you doing here?” you ask her, practically screeching, as she shoves past you and into your apartment. Her soaking wet Converse stomp into the living room. You can almost hear the subtle squelch of the damp soles.

“If I stayed on Cherry Lane for one more second, I was gonna go insane,” she spits as she toes off her sneakers.

“Did you… Did you skateboard all the way here?”

“Well, it’s not like I have a car, so…” she answers without really answering, flashing you an equally sardonic smile.

Amber strands hang from her two braids and cling to her freckled forehead. She tugs off the yellow raincoat that didn’t seem to do much of anything. Her t-shirt and jeans are drenched in splotches and sticking to her skin.

“It’s pouring outside, Max! That’s dangerous!”

“I didn’t die, so I’d say it’s fine.”

You sigh to yourself — a deep exhale that deflates your chest.

Max Mayfield is a spitfire. Everyone knows that. Sarcasm is quite literally her love language. When she’s mean to you, it’s because she likes you. She only gets really snappy like this on occasion.

Derision becomes her shield. Being hurtful is the only way she knows to keep people at arm’s length. So, when something’s really wrong, and she’s at your front door in the pouring rain, it’s easier for her to be closefisted than actually ask for help.

“What happened?”

“Nothing,” she shrugs.

You send her a knowing look. A no one skateboards halfway across town in the rain for nothing kind of look.

“It’s just my brother,” she caves in a huff. “It’s always my brother. I don’t even know why you bother asking at this point.”

Your fists clench at your sides. “What’d he do now?”

“It’s my stepdad, mostly. They just… fight. Like, all the time— a lot more than they used to, and you know how bad they used to,” Max explains, halfway rambling, as she paces with socked feet along your living room carpet. She gesticulates wildly as she continues. “I don’t even know what they’re arguing over now. I’m not even sure they know, but my mom refuses to do anything about it, and I’m pretty sure Billy would kill me if I tried to, so…”

The girl trails off with a shrug and stops pacing to face you again. The nails on her left hand pick at the skin of the pointer finger on her right.

Your concerned gaze makes her cower.

“I just can’t stand the yelling, and my walkman only turns up so loud, you know?”

“Color?” you ask her.

To Eddie, who’s hearing all this from the kitchen, it sounds quite vague. Almost purposefully vague. He’s got no idea what it’s supposed to mean, but Max answers so suddenly it’s clear to him that both of you know.

“Before I left? Orange. But... if Billy didn’t leave before I did… red,” the girl agonizes with ocean eyes wide in apprehension. “Like, bright red. Fucking blood red— whatever the darkest shade of red is, it’s that one.”

Eddie decides to make himself known then. He leans against the doorway that connects the kitchen and the living room. “Crimson?” he offers, then corrects himself. “Or, no, maybe scarlet… I don’t know the difference between them, actually.”

Max falls eerily silent. Her head darts over her shoulder at the sound of the familiar voice. She’s less surprised to find someone else in the apartment than she is to know that, out of anyone in the world it could have been, it’s Eddie fucking Munson.

She turns back to you, pale face and auburn brows contorted in confusion. She jerks her thumb in the boy’s direction. “What the hell is he doing here?”

“He stayed the night,” you shrug.

“You let Lucas’ weird new friend spend the night?”

“Wow, Red,” Eddie laughs behind her. “I thought we’d be on a first-name basis by now.”

You shift your weight on your feet and try to swallow down any lingering nerves. You know you shouldn’t be this concerned about losing cool points to a fourteen-year-old, but Max is different. Max is cool. Way cooler than you are.

“Well, we’re dating, so…”

“You’re dating Lucas’ weird new friend now?” she gapes.

“His name is Eddie, Maxine,” you argue, full-naming her because you know how much she hates it. You walk past the girl dripping all over your carpet and head towards the hallway for a towel and fresh clothes. “And he’s standing right there, so you could be a little nicer.”

“Yeah, I’m sensitive, Maxine,” Eddie teases. He brings a hand to his chest to feign offense as he inches toward her. “Wait to talk shit about me when I’m out of earshot, yeah?”

Max squints at him. “Well, this is my safe space, Lucas’ weird new friend, so don’t hog it, alright?”

“Funny you say that because I’m pretty sure only one of us was invited here,” Eddie retorts.

You emerge from the hallway then with a towel and spare clothes.

“And none of you pay rent, which makes it even funnier,” you quip to quell the petty banter and hand Max the fresh linens. “Here. Get changed. Take a shower if you want. Me and Eddie were about to get breakfast.”

The redhead falters at the act of kindness. She still isn’t quite used to it — the way you help her without thinking twice. It’s not the first time it’s happened, and she knows it won’t be the last. But still, it’s hard to accept.

“Thanks,” she wavers and tries her best to smile. It looks more like a wince than anything else.

She slinks off down the hall. You hear Bowie’s paws hit the floor in a muffled thud as she hops off the counter to follow her.

Eddie waits until he hears the bathroom door click shut to turn to you, more serious than he had been before. “Um, so… What was that, exactly?”

“It’s nothing,” you say, shaking your head. “She just stops by sometimes when her brother is bothering her.”

He nods though he’s still sort of confused. He crosses his arms over his chest and furrows his brows. “And the colors…?”

“It’s easier for her to describe the fights by what color they felt like. Blue is the sad fights, green is the stupid fights, orange is right before they get bad, and red is when they do get bad,” you explain, then huff. “Black is… the worst one. They’re the fights you don’t come back from.”

You’ve only seen one code black before. That night at Steve’s — that one was black. The night progressed, and it only got darker. It became a shade that swallowed all the colors surrounding it — a black hole.

Black is the kind of fights that change you. The fights that stick with you forever. The fights you can’t forgive and can’t forget.

“Oh. Shit,” Eddie mutters to himself. He shifts awkwardly on his feet, eyes flitting between you and the empty hallway. He doesn’t know what to say, what to do. He wants to comfort you — the both of you — but he’s got no idea how. “Should I… Should I, like, go?”

You want to tell him no.

You want to tell him that you need him there, that you don’t want him to be far away again, that he might actually help. But you know Max. She puts up a wall with you, and you’ve known her for years. There’s no way she’ll talk to you with Lucas’ weird new friend around.

“If you wanna go get breakfast or something, that’d be really cool,” you answer sheepishly, scrunched face like you’re scared you might hurt his feelings. You inch closer to him, arms wrapped around yourself, as you explain. “I wanna get her to talk and everything, and… she might not if you’re around… ‘M sorry.”

Your shy gaze is met with a grin. He shrugs. “Hey. It’s okay. I can take my van and get us something to eat. I’ll be back in a jiff.”

Like Max, you try to smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Thanks, Eds.”

You kiss him before he leaves. A brief peck to his cheek that doesn’t even mean anything. Your lips brush his lower jaw so softly that he barely feels it, but it takes him by surprise anyway. Not because you’re kissing him, exactly, but because it’s so strangely domestic.

Eddie’s pretty sure no one’s kissed him goodbye since he was five.

It’s the little things — those mundane, innocent, and slightly stupid things — that he never missed because he’d gone without them for so long. But you’re reminding him now what it means to be cared for, telling him in your way that he’ll never have to be without them again.

His fingertips are buzzing when he leaves your apartment.

He’s certain he’ll get struck by lightning before he gets back.

Eddie stays gone for thirty minutes, and you spend that entire time trying to get Max to talk. It’s a more difficult feat than you initially thought. She’s got a sarcastic remark for each of your questions.

“It’s not just nothing, Max!”

“It’s no different than code green!” she argues, sitting below you on the couch in one of your oversized tees. “I just don’t wanna listen to them argue. It’s not like I’m… scared. Or whatever.”

“It’s okay if you are scared, though. You know that, right?”

“Well, I just said I’m not, so…”

One stern look from you, and she breaks.

“I’m always scared, okay?” she bursts. “Even when they’re just talking, I’m fucking terrified because I’m waiting for everything to blow up again. And I— I fucking hate living like that, so I left. Okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

The only thing you know to do is ask her if she wants to get Hopper involved. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s talked to her stepdad, least of all Billy.

Her answer is a balanced and very nuanced — “Fuck no.”

She’s only comforted by your offer to let her spend a few nights at your place and an invitation to your yearly spring break trip to Lake Lemon — only on the condition that her mom is alright with it.

You know it’ll bite you in the ass eventually. The vacation was just supposed to be you, Robin, and Steve, after all. You figure they’ll understand why you inevitably had to invite Max and all her high school friends when you tell them your hands were tied. Besides, Steve Harrington was the best babysitter around. He could watch over a few teenagers for a weekend.

When Eddie returns, he comes with a paper sack of biscuits and a “Honey, I’m home!”

Bowie is the only one not rolling her eyes at the cliche announcement.

“I didn’t know what you guys wanted, so I just got, like… everything,” the boy explains while the two of you dig ravenously into the bag.

You’re a lot less glum than when he left. Especially Max. She’s smiling now — cracking jokes about Eddie’s wet hair and how it makes him look more like a poodle than usual— in between feeding Bowie spare sandwich crumbs.

She even thanks him, a week and monotoned expression of gratitude, more spurred on by a look from you than anything else.

“Thanks, Lucas’ weird new friend…”

He’ll take it. He’s just happy the storm’s clearing up.

“No problem, Red. Glad I could be of service.”

He means it in the most literal sense.

Eddie’s happy to have helped in some way, even if it doesn’t feel like much. You and this strange redheaded girl are getting full on food he bought specifically for the both of you, and something about that thought is very distinctly warming. You laugh over two dollar sausage-egg-and-cheese biscuits, talking so loudly it makes it almost impossible for him to get a word in edgewise, but he doesn’t even care.

The clumsy boy who can never seem to do anything right is just happy that he’s finally done some good.

It is a bit weird, though — having to share you. He watches you give all your attention to Max, and a childlike sort of misplaced jealousy simmers within him.

Like usual, you’re totally selfless. You let Max choose the movie and the food you eat with it later that evening. Instead of the typical Star Wars trilogy Eddie often picks, you end up watching Karate Kid. He’s forced to go without his usual hot-sauce-chocolate-syrup-popcorn concoction because Max insists on making nachos.

They’re good. They’re great, even. But Eddie’s too busy sulking to enjoy them because you’re sharing a blanket with Max instead of him. You sit on the couch together while he’s banished to the recliner across the room.

Bowie’s good enough company, but she’s certainly no replacement for you.

Eddie doesn’t get you to himself until the movie’s over.

You make a semi-comfortable bed for Max on the couch, complete with all the spare pillows and blankets you could find. You tuck her in like a parent would their child — just to hear her laugh as she swats you away — then make Bowie promise to watch over her for the night. You don’t come to bed until you’ve checked on them both five separate times.

Eddie makes no complaint when you finally settle in next to him.

There is no half-joke or sarcastic quip waiting for you — just a warm arm he wraps intently around your middle to pull you closer to his chest.

Because he gets it, why you dropped everything to help Max. He would’ve done the same for Dustin. He has done the same for Dustin. And with the way you so effortlessly take care of him every other day of the week, Eddie can’t blame you for doing the same for someone else.

He’d be an idiot to be angry at how kind you are.

He’s just grateful to have you now — grateful to have you at all — even if it is only to sleep.

The both of you have just finally dozed on when your phone starts to ring. The repeated chime sounds so much louder in the quiet. It’s suffocating, almost, in the darkness of your bedroom.

Eddie stirs first. He finds himself on the other side of your bed, turned away from you entirely, and with the covers to himself.

You don’t seem to mind too much, too sleepy to care. You’re on your belly, face smushed into the pillow, with one leg hiked. Your sleep shirt has risen up your spine to reveal the black cotton panties you wear underneath.

You groan at the intrusion on your slumber.

“Who is it?” Eddie groans, slurred with sleep.

“Robin,” you grumble as you flip to your other side.

He doesn’t ask how you know that.

Your heavy eyelids flutter shut, totally against your will, forcing you to reach blindly for the ringing phone. When your fingers finally wrap around the plastic, you bring it to your ear. The curled wire is cool against your chin.

“What?” you slur into the receiver.

“Well, it’s good to hear your voice, too,” Robin quips on the other line. She sounds too chipper for so late into the night.

“Why are you calling me? It’s almost midnight.”

“I’ve been waiting to call you forever, but Keith wouldn’t quit hogging the phone!” She sounds like she’s shouting that last bit over at the man himself. She turns to the phone again, quieter this time. “I don’t even know who he was calling. It’s not like he has any friends.”

Your brows furrow. “You’re still at work?”

“Yep. Inventory. Graveyard shift. We’re getting overtime, but it’s totally not worth it.”

“So you called ‘cause you were bored?”

“No,” she insists in a scoff. “Well, I am, but I thought I should tell you that Billy came by before closing.”

That wakes you up immediately.

The name in itself is an adrenaline rush.

Suddenly, you’re wide awake and your heart’s beating like you’ve just run a marathon.

“He what?”

“Yeah. I mean, he was just asking for Max — said she ran away or something. He’s probably making the rounds looking for her, but… He asked about you…”

“What do you mean?” you ask and try not to sound too panicked.

“I don’t know if he thought she was with you or if you might’ve been in the back— I don’t know,” Robin rambles, voice distant like she’s multitasking between talking and working. “He wanted to know where you were.”

“What did you tell him?”

“That you were out of the country.”

Despite your alarm, her answer makes you laugh. Robin was always good at that. Making jokes to distract people from their problems was her specialty. It takes you a moment to realize she isn’t laughing with you, though, and you wonder if it was a joke at all.

“Wait, seriously?”

“I didn’t know what else to say!” she defends half-heartedly. “I was just scared he might’ve come by your place.”

“Well, he hasn’t… Not that I know of.”

The thought of Billy Hargrove often looms over you. He was like your own personal storm cloud. Even with the real storm long gone, you hear thunder roll over your head and rumble down your spine.

“Maybe he just gave up,” Robin lilts optimistically.

You know Billy doesn’t know how to, though. For him, it’s win or die trying.

“Maybe…” you waver anyway. “Is Steve there?”

“Yeah— say ‘hi’ Steve!” After a second or more of silence, you hear the boy himself groan a distant and obviously exhausted greeting in return. Robin’s voice follows. “Sorry. He’s grumpy.”

“Why?” you laugh.

“He sorta told Billy off when he came by. Keith got pissed,” she summarizes, the mocks her manager’s monotoned drawl. “‘You’re not allowed to talk to customers that way, Harrington. Even if they are raging douchebags.’”

You smile to yourself. There’s something warming about Steve defending you even when you’re not around to see it. He’s sticking to his word without needing to be rewarded for it.

“Tell him I think he’s very brave,” you joke.

“She wants you to know that she thinks you’re very brave, Stevie,” Robin tells him.

Steve grumbles a faraway thanks.

“Are you guys working tomorrow?

“Yep,” Robin answers, popping the p. Her words are dripping with venom. “Morning shift. Nine o’clock sharp.”

“Maybe I can come by then,” you offer.

“Get your personal P.I to keep tabs on Billy in the meantime. You know, just in case.”

“You say that like he’s a serial killer.”

“You never know! He could be our very own Ted Bundy.”

“—Also, Hopper is not my personal P.I.,” you laugh when her words finally dawn on you.

“He totally is, but… whatever you say.”

You roll your eyes with a distant smile on your face. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Rob.”

“Sweet dreams… Since I’m not getting any tonight, apparently,” she speaks too sweetly into the receiver. “Love you.”

“Love you more.”

“Love you most!”

You sit the phone back on the hook. It takes a few tries because you’re still sort of sleepy and less than coordinated. The quiet room fills with the rattled sounds of your repeated failures. You succeed on the fourth try.

You turn back around and find Eddie awake, too. His curls are wild — umber strands dancing in a halo on his head and on the pillow. His eyes are a darker chocolate from sleep, honeyed and heavy.

His brows pinch together. “What was that about?”

“Nothing,” you answer, more focused on getting comfortable again. “It’s just… girl troubles.”

“You people are full of that these days,” Eddie scoffs through his exhaustion.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Everyone’s having girl troubles,” he elaborates. “Robin, Dustin, Mike, Lucas. Probably Steve, too, because he’s Steve.”

“Lucas?” you echo, distantly concerned because his girl troubles aren’t just girl troubles — they’re Max troubles. “What’s going on with Lucas?”

Eddie sighs and shakes his head against the pillow. “I don’t know. Something with Max, I guess. He won’t talk about it.”

“How do you know Max?” you change the subject with a soft smile. “Where’d the nickname come from?”

“I don’t really know her. She just hung around with Lucas a lot. For a while, I think I really was his weird new friend to her. Like, after the first couple days of school, those kids were practically glued to me, you know?” he explains with a reminiscent grin. “I think they just liked having someone older too… I don’t know… Protect them, I guess?”

“That’s sweet,” you gush — tired and in love.

Eddie scoffs. “Yeah. I’m a real hero, sweetheart.”

“You are.”

“No, I’m… I’m not a hero,” he rejects quietly, with a quieter smile. “In D&D, you know, maybe. But in real life? I’m a total coward.”

You shift closer to him until you’re sharing the same pillow. When you settle again, your noses are nearly brushing and your breaths are intermingling. You lift your hand from the blankets and rest it on his cheek, smoothing your thumb over the apple of it.

“Well, it takes a lot of bravery to admit to cowardice,” you counter in a lilt.

“I guess so…”

“And I think if it really came down to it, and you really had to fight for something, you could do it,” you tell him with a sparkle in your drowsy gaze. Your eyes flit between the both of his deep outer space ones. “Even if you were scared.”

You believe it, even if he can’t. You know Eddie could be brave in the face of something frightening, as much as you know that you couldn’t be. It’s why you’ve still got this black and ponderous storm cloud hanging over you. Since you can’t do it — be brave — you hope Eddie could be that for you instead.

“You’ve got a lot of faith in me, sweetheart,” Eddie quips and tries to swallow down the emotion swelling in his chest like so many rays of sunshine.

“Yeah, Eddie Spaghetti,” you nod in the place of any joke you could’ve responded with. “I do.”

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