#this is one of those moments when u are driving in autopilot | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

prettyboykatsuki · 3 years

Note

when you start writing for ushijima >>>>>>>>>>>>>

can you tell im begging?

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inevitable | u. wakatoshi

➳ tags ;; fluff n smut, getting together, first times together, unprotected sex, intentional lower case 18+

➳ wc ;; 1.9k (WHAT THE FUCK)

➳ a/n ;; ask n u shall recieve (i had rlly bad brainrot tn actually)

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if you had to describe ushijima wakatoshi in one word, you think the word you would chose is inevitable.

in·ev·i·ta·ble | /inˈevidəb(ə)l/ adjective certain to happen; unavoidable

of all the ways you could describe a person, it's probably not the best word. you could think of a laundry list of other ones to describe - really. hard-working, dependable, strong-willed, mindful, cautious. he's a lot of things and you think that's why he's so good at what he does. he's powerful but he he's brilliant at where he uses that power.

you would also use words like that to describe him, if you had too. if you had to give someone the run-down of wakatoshi - you could probably give them a whole speech about his accolades. he's probably the kindest person you know and he does that mostly on accident. he helps little old ladies carry groceries and lets your niece climb his arms like monkey bars with the most plain look on his face.

he's a lot of things - funny on accident, charming on purpose. but of all the things he is - to you, the thing he is most, is inevitable.

it's not hard for you to admit that you weren't exactly.. welcoming to ushijima when you first met him. you were a barista and he was well.. a big, pro-athlete who came to buy straight dark coffee every morning. after his work-outs (or what you figured was workouts since he always looked pretty sweaty) he bought himself precisely one pastry and a bottle of water and went about his day.

and it went like that for months. obviously you found him handsome - the way you could basically autopilot your shifts but completely broke down when he was there was evidence of that. he was tall, broad, handsome and nice. the kind of man who meets your grandmother, you think.

he always asked about you and you gave him short answers. too nervous to elaborate but he made you anyways, somehow and some way. and he comes back to you every week with details of your life you'd only mention in passing. he'd chuckle - a soft little smile at the way your eyes went wide. for someone so dense, he wasn't all that out of touch when it came to you. one morning your hands trembling just a little more than normal when you hand him back his change

(he tells you later he paid in cash just to see you stumble)

and he asks you with a plain look. observant.

"do i make you nervous?"

that's when you knew, really. you stood no chance against the all-consuming force that was and is ushijima wakatoshi. the subtlety and nuance in all of his actions left you worse for wear and any suspicions you had about how he might be treating you were to be confirmed much later down that line.

he's dense in the same way avocadoes are fruit. it's true, technically - but in a lot of ways and functionally it's just not the same. you think that the better word to use for him is selectively intelligent - like he doesn't bother thinking about anything that doesn't interest him for more than two minutes. but on the rare occasion it does interest him, i.e how you interest him - he becomes some kind of expert.

you've always been a little stubborn when it came to love. heartbreak does that to you - and you were overly cautious with ushijima. you let your heart walk on eggshells. you didn't let his gestures or touches or glances mean anything to you. you didn't let yourself be swayed by the smell of his cologne - sweet and woodsy on the back of your throat. not by the way he placed his hand on your lower back to walk past you on days off.

and when he took you out, to see the movies and stargaze, you told yourself it isn't a date. you tried your best really. because there is something really unbelievable about ushijima wakatoshi liking you - beyond the fact that he's some pro-athlete.

there's something about him that's a little unreal. not that he's perfect, but that all of his flaws make him more attractive. it almost bothers you but he doesn't seem to understand when you give him those lengthy explanations. hands making all types of gestures, flustered as he smiles. he doesn't take anything from your little lecture that day, just gives you a once over as he drives you home.

"oh, so you find me attractive?"

you didn't stand a chance. he was, and is, inevitable. everything about him has this powerful but subtlety all-consuming nature to him. you think the best way to think of it is like letting yourself float. the way you release the weigh in your body and inevitable give into letting it hold you. even if waves came - you'd probably stay in that state.

ushijima is like that. a constant presence and overwhelming force. you get swayed without even thinking. he could probably become president, if he really wanted. lucky for everyone else, he just wants to play volleyball. you think that it's a shame in equal parts that it's a gift but you digress.

the point is that you could never really be away from ushijima. and as hard as you tried to avoid the growing affection - you find that ushijima is always a few steps ahead. always reaching far beyond you with big, strong hands.

you try so hard, to avoid the inevitable. you do it with your whole soul. you're honestly just.. intimated. you've never felt something like him before - not once in your whole life. you're afraid of what'll happen when you succumb to the waves so you dodge the deep sea for weeks and weeks.

he found you after your shift one day after 3 weeks of dry texting and avoided phone calls. wearing a suit and a purple shirt and a nice watch, he has flowers too. and you're in.. a barista uniform with tousled everything and smudged mascara.

inevitable is really the only word. as you stop dead in your tracks, and as ushijima pulls you aside with the mostly gentlemanly smile. you kind of wanna cry when you look at him.

"i've waited a long time but i don't think i can much longer,"― he shifts a little. he almost looks nervous - it's the first time you've ever seen him look anything but overwhelmingly confident ― "i like you and i'd like to be with you,"

he doesn't really offer you much other than a confession and his hands. the frustrating thing is that he doesn't need to. it's the first time he's seen you cry but he handles you well, does it easily like he does everything else. like somehow he's just good at it, soothes you while you sob into his chest and melt into his presence and let yourself fall underwater.

in a probably not so surprising turn of events, you find that ushijima fucks with the same approach that he does most other things.

with careful consideration that seems effortlessly. it makes you feel a little hopeless that he feels good at everything. even at comforting you.

the first time you have sex, you take off his shirt for him. and he takes your hand and puts it up to his chest. gives you the most gentle look. his heart-beat is rapid.

"you make me .. nervous too. just so you know,"

the one thing about ushijima is that everything about him is big and wide and broad. he kisses you like he's trying to circle the solar system - there's a slowness to it. a vastness as he has you seated in his lap with his hands exploring up your body. his hands are everywhere. he's good with them. not too gentle but not too rough as the spread your thighs open.

he cups your pussy and it fits in his whole palm. his middle finger teases your slit as his kisses travel south, down your jaw and onto your neck. they latch onto your chest with a little breathless sigh - like he can't even breathe. it makes you clench when he talks to you - raspy.

"you're.... beautiful,"

he makes you shy. so shy as you lean forward a little and rock into his hand - a burning need nipping at you. and his eyes widen and his cock stiffens and his breath hitches and you think this is the first time you've caught him off-guard before. you wanna bask in it but you're too desperately so you latch onto his lips again.

ushijima does everything right. with knowledge in it. he kisses you and sucks on your tits and plays with your clit with this.. knowing. he likes seeing you fall apart he thinks. he likes how you get when he takes it much slower than he needs too - how he drags you through one orgasm to another with this lithe. he lets you lean over his shoulder when he fingers you - and his two fingers stretch you out like four of your own.

his cock is big. bigger than you think any person could ever take. you stare at it for a long while, gaping at it. your hands barely fit around it and that image burns itself into ushijimas brain like a permanent memory. your mouth falls open and your eyes look hazy and ushijima thinks that he's never wanted to be inside of something so bad before.

"it's so big," ― you whisper, hoarse ― "i-it won't fit,"

"i'll make it fit," ― is his only reply, kissing the crown of your head ― "sit tight,"

he does, by the way. make it fit. he makes it fit good - makes it stretch your pussy out but you don't feel like you'll break. there's a little pressure inside, and your clit swells with desire and blood - but it fits. and his eyes are glued to the way your cute little cunt seems to be swallowing him like it's nothing. it's enough to make him lose his mind.

"c-can i move?"

you nod and he does. slow at first. he draws the noise from you - a slow and soft moan leaving your lips as he drags his cock in and out of you. but it gets faster, goes much faster than you thought it could.

eventually he has you bouncing in his lap, on his cock, with such force that you feel like you can't breathe. it feels unbelievable, sets off a supernova in your gut like at any moment you could come undone. you feel like you're breaking and ushijima doesn't help, soft grunts and whispered affections.

"you're so beautiful," and "im so happy" that make you feel dizzy. you'd probably give him anything he asks for. he bounces you on his cock and lets his thumb just rest on your clit and you're so close you can almost taste it.

"cum for me," ― like he's begging ― "please,"

what choice do you have anyways? you cum on his cock with a silent scream, like your voice is tearing a blackhole into space and you shudder while he holds you in place. he finishes only seconds afterwards.

"did it feel good?"

you give him a wide-eyed look. he's dense at times. you don't know how to hate him for it so you just sigh and nod, cozying to him.

"y..yeah,"

he kisses your forehead, sweaty and tired.

"good,"

yeah. you were right.

you never had a single chance of winning against him.

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#WHY DID THIS GET SO LONG WHAT THE FUCK #return to sender #ushijima x reader #haikyuu x reader #prettyboy.thirsts #formal #writing tag #IM GONNA BE SICK HOW DID THIS EVEN HAPPEN #haikyuu smut #ushijima smut

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wri0thesley · 3 years

Note

Could I get a request for Nanami somnophilia? Maybe he’s had a hard day at work and wants to destress a little by making you feel good? ~ 💖 u///u

Sweet Dreams, Darling - Nanami x Reader (2.1k)

You’re so pretty, and Nanami’s so stressed, and he just can’t resist you.

warnings: afab reader, no pronouns (reader wears a nightgown). not sfw, somnophilia* (not discussed in the fic but implied to have been agreed upon), coming inside.

Today had gone far beyond overtime.

Nanami is buzzing with unrestrained feelings when he opens his own front door, crackling with cursed energy that hasn’t yet worn off him even after defeating the curse. He can feel it tensing his muscles and shoulders, making everything seem all the more intense, like shivers and electricity running through his fingers.

He can’t remember the last time that a mission had left him feeling like this; so on-edge and stressed. Usually by the time he gets home after work, he’s bone-tired. Even when he hasn’t put in any overtime, it’s all he can do to keep his eyes open and strip off his work clothes and accept the kisses you lavish on his cheeks as you admonish him for working too hard, telling him he needs to take a break every so often.

He wearily strips off his jacket, his harness, his weapon and hangs them on the coat rack in the hallway. It’s dark, and he doesn’t want to turn on the lights and perhaps alert you to his presence when he knows you probably stayed up too long waiting for him anyway, so he tries to ensure his feet slide almost-silently across the wooden floor, until he can open the door to the shared bedroom and--

His breath catches in his throat. He’d been right, that you’d stayed up to greet him and welcome him home – but you’d evidently grown too tired to keep your eyelids propped open, and you’d fallen asleep in the warm golden glow of the bedside lamp, your book fallen onto the floor beside you. He kneels to pick it up, to place it on the night stand; and he can’t help but notice how pretty you look in the light.

Your mouth looks so soft and plush. He knows what you taste and feel like against his own lips, intimately, but every time he catches a glimpse of your mouth again he wants to suck it into his mouth and bite until you groan. The curves and lines of your peaceful face are positively angelic, the fan of your eyelashes against your cheeks making him want to brush his thumb over your skin and see how warm you would feel beneath the places he’s calloused from gripping his weapon too hard.

You haven’t pulled yourself down under the blankets, because it is a summer’s evening and the air is cloying. You're wearing a thin white nightgown, a confection of satin and lace – the straps dig into your shoulders, cling to your breasts and hips, emphasising the curves of you that Nanami knows will fit so well into his big hands. He knows you like he knows the back of his hand; he’s spent countless nights entangled in you, studying you with his lips and mouth and fingers. Knows the places that make you sigh, make you bare your throat, make you twist your fingers into his hair and murmur; “Kento, please,” like it’s an invocation for him to grant you release. The lace-trimmed hem barely skims your thighs, and Nanami can already tell that you’re wearing nothing underneath it.

His cock gives an answering throb to that assumption in his slacks.

You’re always so unfairly pretty. He doesn’t know how to deal with it – this rush of affection whenever he sees you, the fact that his body responds to your curves and your smiles and the glitter of your eyes like it’s betraying him. He knows he’s handsome, but he’s never considered himself desirable – but you look at him like he hung the stars, cling to him at night, brush kisses over his neck until he believes you when you tell him how perfect he is.

“You can do anything to me,” you’ve breathed against him, too many times to count. “Any time you want, any place – I’m yours.”

You wouldn’t mind. He hesitates for a moment, before he brings up a hand to his tie. Loosens the knot. Unbuttons his shirt. Unzips his slacks. Through it all, it’s like he’s on autopilot – his eyes do not for one moment leave your prone form, so peaceful and unbothered in sleep. You look like an angel. How’s he supposed to resist?

The thought of parting your soft thighs has his cock stirring again, and he palms it through his underwear, his eyes flickering closed for a moment as he remembers that this morning, you’d ground your ass against him in bed when he’d had to get up. You’d batted your eyelashes, pouted; “Just stay for ten minutes?” You’d asked him, and he’d had to sigh and kiss your forehead.

He hates denying himself, but he hates denying you even more.

He’s undressed now, and he climbs onto the bed to look at you. Your face shifts as the bed dips under his weight, eyebrows furrowing for just a moment before they smooth back out and your face is perfectly peaceful once more. A hand comes up to caress the cheek, to rub his thumb along your lower lip – your mouth opens slightly, allowing him to slide his thumb into your mouth. Still sleeping, your tongue brushes the digit, sucks on it gently before he withdraws it.

The submissive little action has his belly all full of flames.

Hands caress your collarbones. Fingertips stroking along your bare shoulders, the place an old love bite from him has faded to be barely noticeable. He slides his palms over your breasts, relishing the warm, heavy weight of them. You curve out so beautifully, fit in his hands like you were made to be held there. You shift again in your sleep, unconsciously leaning in to the hungry heat of his touch. He can’t help but lean in as his thumbs caress your nipples, coaxing the buds to hardness beneath his touch. He breathes in the scent of your hair, so familiar – smooths his lips across your forehead, the bridge of your nose, your cheeks. Brushes his lips against your mouth, winning a soft exhale of breath from you, one that has a little bit of a whine hidden behind it as he continues to play with your chest, squeeze the weight of your breasts in his hands.

You unconsciously press your thighs together, sighing, and Nanami cannot wait any longer. Those two big hands slide past your waist, over your hips, over your outer thighs so he can dig his fingers into the softest parts of your legs and gently part them. The nightgown’s hem is pushed out of the way with the movement, folding and bunching over your hips to reveal that his attentions have certainly had an effect on the slit nestled between your legs.

Even in lamplight, you’re wet enough that Nanami’s mouth practically waters. Beads of your slick glisten, clinging to the softly furled petals of your sex – the pearl of your clit peeking out from beneath the hood. The feel of the cool air hitting your heated cunt makes your face scrunch for a moment, the expression so lovely and raw that Nanami wants to kiss it off your face.

His cock is pulled out of his underwear, encircled in his fist – the shaft is thick and hot and hard, pulsing with need for you. The glans is slick with his own pre-come – not that it needs to be, as he shifts his hips and rubs the head through the lips of your labia, smearing your arousal all over him.

A full-body shiver goes through him at the feel of your cunt’s folds clinging to his cock – he’s not even inside you, and he feels like he could come. He hadn’t realised just how pent-up he was from today’s nightmare of a job until he had come home to the refuge of your body – even asleep, you manage to calm him. He feels like a ship that’s come into port, as he rubs the head of his cock up and down your cunt. You shiver every time it makes contact with your clit, and he feels your own body pulse beneath his. In your sleep, you still want to be fucked by him. As he repeats the motion, making sure the head drags faster over the swollen bundle of nerves, you sigh so prettily and cant your hips so adoringly that he thinks he’s woken you up--

No. Your mouth has dropped into a soft, small ‘o’ shape, but your eyelids do not even flicker. There’s the lightest sheen of sweat on your forehead, and muscles in your thighs are twitching, but you are still deep in your dreams.

He wonders what you’re dreaming about; selfishly, he hopes it is him. He hopes some part of what he’s doing has permeated your consciousness. Judging by how wet you are, the way he can feel your cunt clenching when his cockhead drags too close to your tight hole, he knows you’re at least having a very good time in your own imagination.

Rubbing his cock through your slick is all very well and good, but it’s not sating the urge inside of him. It’s not enough. He wants to feel your body around him – your heart beating, your breath catching.

He adjusts himself with his thumb and forefinger, letting his cock head catch on the rim of your entrance.

This one makes you let out a soft;

“Aaah—,” in your sleep, so quiet that it may as well be a puff of air as Nanami takes his time sheathing himself within you, enjoying the tight cling of your walls, plush and wet and welcoming. He’s buried his cock in you so many times, and you’re always tight enough that it feels like the first one all over again – your breath shaking your chest, your mouth open, the pulse of both of your hearts pressed against one another.

As he bottoms out inside you, your head moves restlessly; your pretty mouth shapes a wordless moan, a whimper, that soon turns into;

“K-Kento, mm, please--”

You are dreaming about him. The thought makes his gut twist hot, almost pushes him over the edge. He pulls out gently before driving himself back in, not wanting to wake you up by being too enthusiastic in his pumping. It’s nice, having you like this – feeling the way you’re sucking him in, being able to sense every little pulse and clench of your walls. His front presses against yours as he gathers your thighs up, holding them further apart. You seem to get what he wants even in your half-asleep state, soft thighs locking about his hips. Oh, fuck. He tries to keep his pace steady, but you just feel so good around him – like you were made to take his cock.

One of his thrusts is particularly hard, the wet sound of his cock inside of your cunt echoing about the walls, his pelvis grinding perhaps a bit too forcefully into yours – and your eyes flicker open, dark and hazy with sleep. They half-focus on him above you, all misty and pretty. Your mouth curves into a sleepy smile as you look at him, one of your hands gently reaching above you to cup Nanami’s face and trace the sharp line of his cheekbone and jaw.

“Kento?” You murmur. “Mm, feels . . . feels good--”

“Shh,” Nanami murmurs, smoothing a kiss onto your palm. “Go back to sleep, sweetheart.”

You sigh.

“Love you,” you say to him, sleep-laced – and then you do fall back to sleep, your eyes drifting closed again even as Nanami’s hips are still driving into you. Your hand drops from his face – but your lips don’t lose the smile, tired but wicked, and Nanami is staring at that perfect curve of your mouth as his orgasm tears through him.

His cock twitches inside of you as pleasure blinds him for a moment, all whited out heat and his cock pulsing spurt after spurt of his release inside of you. Your body clings to him, greedily drinking in everything he gives you, and he waits, slowly rocking his hips against your inner walls until he’s sure that he’s utterly drained and that every drop of his come has been pushed as deep inside of you as it can go.

Only then does he let himself pull out.

Your eyebrows furrow as he does it, as your cunt is suddenly found empty – but then, Nanami crawls to lay beside you, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you spoon-fashion so you mould to his body. The soft, pleased smile on your face hasn’t faded at all.

He feels bad that you haven’t gotten to come - ordinarily, Nanami considers himself a gentleman. He likes having you come two, three times before he’s so much as gotten his cock inside of you - but tonight had been different. Tonight he had needed this. Needed you.

You snuggle into his embrace though, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world – and he consoles himself. It’s not like he doesn’t have a hundred nights in the future to make it up to you - he wants to spend the rest of his life kissing you, making love to you, holding you, fucking you. Loving you.

He drops another kiss on your shoulder, murmuring softly into the crook of your neck;

“Love you more.”

#not sfw #nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #nanami x you #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #nanami smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #somnophilia for ts #writing #afab reader #neutral pronouns #jjk posting #Anonymous

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lumosinlove · 3 years

Text

Relic Keel

(warnings in tags)

PREVIOUSLY ON RELIC KEEL

Marlene got into college and hasn’t told Dorcas because she’s scared of how she will react.

Lily and James had sex and obviously like each other, but Lily is scared to have attachments on Hogwarts when they’re going to college soon.

Leo and Logan question each other about their pasts without much progress. Logan finds out that Leo hopes to own The Lion restaurant one day, and that his father’s death has something to do with “The Voldemort.”

Saint and Sirius talk about leaving the island and how they met when they were eleven years old. They have sex and avoid more difficult topics.

James and Lily meet at the Gryffindor Club as promised. Lily tells James that she doesn’t want anything tying her to the island, that she hates the fake boundaries that Hogwarts has and that James isn’t crossing them as much as he thinks he is. James understands, even though it hurts.

Saint and Sirius are cleaning the Potter’s pool when James arrives with Remus and Luke. Remus and Sirius have a tense moment in the kitchen, Luke and Saint argue, and Sirius finds out that it’s Remus who sails the Wolfsbane every morning—Remus thus finding out that Sirius notices.

Logan returns to the Carrows to hand over his money and stock up on Crucio. We find out that he works for them in the hopes that they will help him get Finn out of Saint Clair, only the Carrows are angry with him for using their Crucio—they say that Logan owes them now.

Logan heads over to Saint Clair to watch Finn from afar, and swears again that he will rescue him.

part iv

Remus closed his eyes, soaking in the morning sun and the salty air. The wind pushed his hair back as he tightened the rigging, catching the wind. Sometimes his sails felt like his bare hands. Like he finally had something to hold onto, even if it blistered his palms. The sea made him feel alone, in the best way. Usually, it felt like people were always around. He couldn’t go anywhere without running into at least two people from school, or his parents’ friends. Yes, he’s excited for college, no, he’s not sure exactly yet, yes, he’s still sailing, yes, he’s still obsessed, yes, he remembers learning at Gryffindor Club, sure, I’ll tell my mom you say hi.

Solidarity was less exhausting.

The wind buffered and he sighed as he slowed down. he looked back towards Shack Beach. Saint had said they saw him every morning—that Sirius saw him every morning. He wondered if Sirius was watching now.

He couldn’t see anything from this far away. Part of him wondered if he could make this island disappear completely, just for a moment. But it was dangerous to stray that far. Even The Cradle, the small U of islands just off of Hogwarts’ southern coast, was pushing it. Remus huffed out a laugh as he managed the ropes to come about, back towards shore. If that wasn’t a metaphor, he didn’t know what was.

Things on Hogwarts had become complicated in what felt like overnight, even though Remus knew that wasn’t true. They were older now. They didn’t just care about summer vacation. There was college to think about, and then jobs. Hogwarts wasn’t the dream it once was. Remus wanted to see mountains, and huge cities, or snow—and not just for a week on vacation. He wanted to belong somewhere because he wanted to be there, and not just because he had grown up there. He was tired of knowing everything there was to know.

He tied up his Wolfsbane on autopilot, stroking his hand over the side before tugging his shirt over his head and jumping straight into the water. It was cooler from the night, but it was what Remus needed. He held his breath as he found the sandy bottom, his eyes closed. For a moment, he didn’t have to be anywhere. He got to enjoy the ocean and its predictable changes.

When he came up for air, he remembered why he loved this island. That still didn’t mean he didn’t want to leave.

“Are you headed to the museum, sweetheart?” his mother said when Remus came down to the kitchen, freshly showered. He preferred to let the salt linger all day, but he figured he should be fresh for his first day of work.

“Yeah,” Remus held up his keys. “Just looking for some coffee first.”

His mom held up a mug for him, laughing. “Ask and you shall receive.”

Remus smiled. “Thanks, mom.”

“How was it this morning?”

Remus poured some milk into his cup. “It was good. Sun’s going to be strong today. Went near The Cradle—not too far, don’t worry.”

“You know me too well,” Hope laughed, whisking some eggs into a lather. “Well, it’s pizza night. We’re ordering in so, if you want to have some friends over and take it to the den, that’s fine with me. But don’t complain if Jules crashes the party.”

Remus nodded. “Actually, I think we’re going out. If that’s all right?”

Hope nodded. “All right, sure. Be safe, though. Who, uh…”

“James and Luke,” Remus sighed. “Mom—”

“I wasn’t going to say anything—”

“It’s not Luke’s fault,” Remus continued anyway. “His dad, I mean. He didn’t know.”

“I know that,” Hope sighed. “But…Even I can see that boy’s hurting and I barely see him at all.”

“Then shouldn’t he be with his friends?” Remus said.

Hope raised her eyebrows at him, and Remus raised his own right back.

“All right, all right,” Hope said. “You’re gonna be late, I’ll see you later, baby.”

Remus knew he should take the car his parents had given him. He knew he should get used to driving, knew his dad wondered why it just sat in the garage. But here, on the island, Remus liked his bicycle. He liked the warm breeze. It reminded him of being out on the water.

Which, in turn, now reminded him of Sirius Black.

When Remus remembered Sirius, he mostly remembered bruised cheeks and nasty looking cuts. He remembered the hushed way people used to whisper about him, and how, even when he was loud, grinning and well-liked, he was still from Salazar. Sometimes he had eaten lunch surrounded by people, and sometimes he had eaten it alone with his brother.

Remus didn’t understand this island. Was Sirius really so different because he was born a few miles South rather than North? It made no sense—only it did, but only because it was all Remus had ever known.

The Hogwarts History Museum was a pride of the island. Remus knew it well from school trips, and from his own interest. He’d spent many Saturdays there as a kid, gazing at all of the small models of ships and dreaming about what it would be like to sail them, wishing they weren’t trapped behind glass—feeling a little like he was trapped behind glass. A ship in a bottle.

“Hi there, Remus,” Layla smiled at him, green eyes kind and skin a rich, dark brown against the pale pink scarf in her hair.

“Hi, Layla,” Remus smiled. “Having a good summer so far?”

“Sure,” Layla shrugged. “Lots of time here. I saw you win the sailing race last Sunday, congrats.”

Remus smiled. “Thanks. It was real fun. Sorry I beat your brother, though.”

“Oh, Lyle doesn’t mind,” Layla waved a hand. Her nails were painted pink, too. “Don’t worry about it.”

Remus had been friends with Layla since they were little, competing for best in class usually. She was wicked smart and mellow. Remus could always use some mellow, good conversation—especially with James being James and Luke being…well, whatever Luke was now. Layla liked history, and her family owned the museum, which meant Layla told tales that were, albeit tall, fun to listen to.

Remus leaned against the desk, looking around. “This place never changes, huh?”

Layla laughed, clicking a pen. “History doesn’t tend to change that much, R, and so neither do we. Unlike the world out there.”

“I don’t know about that. Nothing ever feels too different out there,” Remus laughed, too. “But I guess you’re right. I’m glad you’re here, though. Or else I’d be sitting behind this desk by myself.”

“I’m glad you’re here, too,” Layla nodded. “What made you take the job?”

Remus snorted as he rounded the corner, picking up his name badge where Beatrice, Layla’s mother and the museum curator, said it would be. “Don’t pretend we didn’t see each other here when we were little all the time. Not to mention at Gryffindor Club. You, obviously.”

Layla raised an eyebrow. “Me and your mom.”

Remus winced and Layla laughed.

“C’mon, we both know you’d be out on your boat all day if it was up to you.”

Remus laughed. “Fine. But seriously. You’re a perk.”

Layla nodded, rolling her eyes with a smile. “Just a couple of history buffs, I guess.”

Remus shrugged. “There are worse things to be.”

The day was pretty slow. A few tourists here and there, taking photo behind the cardboard cutouts that made you look like you were dressed as a sailor, or a pirate.

“Are there really pirates here?” one little girl had asked Layla.

Remus had smiled when Layla crouched down and whispered to her, “careful, there’s one there,” and pointed at Remus.

When lunch rolled around, Remus expected Layla to pull out a bagged sandwich like him, but instead she scoffed and picked up her bag.

“Come on. We have to get out for a bit.”

Remus shrugged. “All right, where to?”

“The Lion, of course,” Layla replied. “It’s the best food on the island.”

“The Lion,” Remus repeated slowly. “You mean—in The Hollow?”

Layla gave him a look. “Oh, you’re not one of those are you?”

“One of what?” Remus said. “No. I’m not, I just… c’mon, you hear things.”

“Hear things? You’ve never been?”

“Once,” Remus swallowed, thinking of the fight. “It didn’t really go well.”

Layla just shook her head.

“History is just one great field of stories, Remus. You’ll never get to the truth unless you listen to them all.”

And so Remus found himself riding alongside Layla on their bikes and right through Gryffindor. The Hollow didn’t have a sign or anything, but you knew when you were in it. Remus almost wished he had been able to see some sort of line to cross, but everything was just suddenly different. Low houses with open doors, people gathered together and laughing. Kids running with surfboards over their heads, towards Shack Beach. It had seemed even more vibrant in the dark the night of the party, even through the tinted windows of Luke’s car. String lights hung over cookouts, and music blasting from speakers. It had smelled amazing, and Remus would have to say Layla was probably right about the food.

The Lion was just as bright as everything else. It was bustling with lunch-goers, and the doors were flung wide, letting the heat right in. Remus looked around at the people. Some tourists, obviously. Some not. Hollows. Some of them smiled when they caught Remus’ eye, and some narrowed their eyes.

“Hi, Leo, babe,” Layla said as she slid onto a stool at the counter.

There was a blond boy behind it wearing a tank top and a snapback. He smiled as he set some shrimp down in a frier. “Hey, Layla, babe, ça va?”

“Just working. At least I’ve got Remus for company now.”

Remus smiled awkwardly when Leo fixed his blue eyes on him. He really didn’t know what he was waiting for. Something terrible to happen?

Leo only held out a hand. “Leo, nice to meet you.”

“Remus,” Remus said, and took it. He tried not to look at the rainbow bracelet on Leo’s wrist for too long, but he could tell Leo had felt the way his hand tightened. “Yeah—you, too.”

Leo touched it briefly, like an old habit, as he pulled away, giving another smile to Remus.

It didn’t necessarily mean Leo wasn’t straight, but on such a small island, Remus tended to notice these things. He and Luke had figured each other out pretty fast around sixteen. They’d kissed. Once. And then winced, laughed, and shoved each other in the pool. Sometimes Remus wished he and Luke had worked. He didn’t see any other boys coming his way. Leo was smiling at him like he knew what Remus was thinking.

“What can I get you two?” Leo asked.

A boyfriend? Remus thought wistfully.

“Two of your specials, please,” Layla said. “Re, you’re going to lose your mind it’s so good.”

“What’s your special?” Remus asked.

Leo shrugged, but he was grinning. “Like a chef ever gives up his secrets—”

Leo had stopped mid-sentence, eyes going over their shoulders towards the door. Remus turned to look, and a moment later, a brown haired boy was slinging a backpack down carefully between his feet and taking the seat beside Remus.

“Well, look who’s back,” Leo said to him.

The boy glanced at Remus and Layla, then gave a small shrug. “Yeah.”

Leo snorted. “Yeah,” he parroted. “You’re just hungry.”

The boy shrugged again.

Leo sighed, and gave Remus a look that said, can you believe this? before turning back to the stove. “This is Logan guys. Apparently he doesn’t talk today. Three specials. Coming up.”

Logan didn’t recognize the boy sitting at the counter. He didn’t recognize the girl either. Then again, he didn’t recognize many people. He didn’t know anyone. Except Dorcas—if that even counted. And Leo. If that counted, either.

The Felix was heavy in his pack, wedged protectively between his feet, and he wished the strangers would leave so that Leo would talk to him. He hadn’t said two words that weren’t him making sure that Logan liked his food, and asking him where he’d been.

Logan was a little annoyed with him for asking that question. It wasn’t like Leo didn’t know what Logan did. Then again, Leo didn’t know why Logan did what he did.

“You guys get the new madness exhibit up yet, Layla?” Leo was asking the girl with the scarf in her hair. “The one you were telling me about.”

The sandy-haired boy looked up from his food. “The madness exhibit?”

The girl—Layla—cocked her head. “Remus, you…you don’t know?”

“Know what?” the boy—Remus—replied.

Layla sat up a little, looking suddenly awkward. “Your mom donated almost everything we have. I mean…it is your family that’s famous for…”

Remus raised his eyebrows. “Losing their fucking minds?”

Layla winced. “Well, yeah, okay, poor choice of words on my part. But madness isn’t always a bad thing, you know. People say people are crazy all the time. Sometimes they’re just extraordinary.”

Remus looked back down at his food. “My family’s not extraordinary, believe me.”

“Usually extraordinary-ness belongs to one person, I’d say,” Leo said. “My mom’s pretty extraordinary. Doesn’t mean I am.”

“You want to stay on this island, don’t you?” Logan found himself saying. Then, he felt his neck heat and he turned down to his food.

“What’s so extraordinary about that?” Layla replied at the same time as Remus said, “You do?”

Leo just laughed, rolling his eyes at Logan. “I’m with Layla on this one, guys, sorry.”

“What about you, Logan?” Layla asked. “I want the museum after I go to college. At least I think I do. Leo wants The Lion, Remus wants to sail the world…” Remus blushed at that, and Layla’s eyes were very green. “What do you want to do?”

Logan found it strange that they were treating him like that. So normally. Logan knew his necklace was on display. It was easier than explaining why people hadn’t seen him around and pretending to be a tourist. That lead to questions. Being abandoned didn’t. And he was. He was abandoned. People didn’t ask. Most probably thought he had just aged out. People didn’t ask. It was better that way. Logan didn’t have any answers. All he had was the memory of that last night with Finn. Finn had returned to their room, eyes wild and voice urgent.

Come on, Lo, wake up. Wake up, Logan, we have to go. Now.

Logan had felt helplessly awake in the first weeks of being out. He was still sorting through what that meant.

Logan swallowed. “I don’t know. I’m—looking for someone first.”

Remus sighed and mumbled. “Aren’t we all.”

“You are?” Leo asked softly.

Logan nodded. “Or, not looking. I’m just…I’m waiting for someone.”

He knew where Finn was, but Logan knew that he could wait forever and he wouldn’t come. Logan had to take what he wanted. It was a lesson he was learning fast.

“Oh,” Remus replied. “Um…cool. I hope you find them.”

Logan just nodded.

“Well, we should head out,” Layla said, rising. “Gotta get back to work.”

“Sure thing, just pay up front,” Leo smiled. “See you later, Layla.” He nodded at Remus. “Nice to meet you.”

“You, too,” Remus smiled back. “The food was great.”

Logan watched Leo watch them leave, then snort. “That guy looked more spooked than a horse with a snake.”

“Isn’t that what Gods are supposed to look like?” Logan replied.

Leo shrugged. “Usually you can’t see their eyes behind their aviators.”

Logan laughed a little. “Right.” he looked back down at his food, realizing he had begun picking his fries apart, rather than eating them.

“I’m looking for someone too, you know,” Leo broke the silence.

Logan did. Only, he hadn’t thought about it like that. Leo’s dad and Finn. Leo’s dad was probably dead. Finn wasn’t.

“I hope you find him,” Logan replied. “Your dad.”

The Lion was in full swing now, the lunchtime rush loud and boisterous. Leo had a tank top on, and Logan thought he looked a little tired. Sleeplessness showed easily on his skin.

“Do you have to run?” Leo asked instead of responding. “And hide? Like, from the police?”

Logan sat up, instinctively looking behind him. “I assumed I would have to. But…it hasn’t been that difficult.” He laughed a humorless laugh. “I guess I keep overestimating how much people actually care about me. Maybe I should have learned something by now.”

“Maybe you’re just looking at the wrong people,” Leo said quickly, and looked up with a smile, a small one, then down again. “I know a few others who got out. They don’t seem to have trouble, so, you know, if you needed a job or something, you could work in my mom’s workshop. With me. Or here. I’m sure Celeste and Pascal would be all right with it.”

Logan felt taken off guard. “Oh. I…” he thought of the powder packets in his bag. Of the Carrows. How much do you think you owe us by now?

Others? he wanted to ask. What others?

“Just think about it,” Leo said, and turned towards one of the stove tops to check on some boiling water.

“Yeah. Okay.”

They sat in silence for a long moment.

“It’s a boat,” Leo began suddenly, answering Logan’s yet unasked question. The Voldemort. What his father had been looking for. It was almost like Leo was thanking him for telling the truth about his situation. An eye for an eye. A truth for a truth. Logan sort of liked that consistency. “Was a boat. In the eighteenth century.”

“Oh,” Logan said.

“Biggest story on Hogwarts,” Leo said. “Ten thousand pieces of gold, all fallen to the depths of the ocean just off of Hogwarts’ shores…and never seen again.”

“But if it’s just off the shore…”

Leo smiled a little, shaking his head. “But you have to know where off the shore. Otherwise, you have a whole circumference of miles and miles of open water to work with.”

“And your dad figured it out?”

Leo shrugged, expression closing off a little. “He thought he did.” He cleared his throat as he put an order on the counter for a waiter to take away, and ripped another piece of paper down from the line up to look at. “The Cradle. You know it?”

Logan shook his head.

“It’s a sort of…horse shoe shaped cluster of islands, just off of our southern tip.”

“Salazar,” Logan said quietly.

Leo nodded. “Salazar.”

“Your dad was a treasure hunter,” Logan said slowly. “He was looking for a treasure.”

“Yeah,” Leo said, flipping a crab cake in sizzling oil. “He was.”

“And did he find it? Do you want to find it?”

“I don’t know,” Leo whispered, busy hands stilling. “He never came home.”

Logan nodded.

“He wanted to find it,” Leo said softly. “Really badly. And I… I feel like I should.”

“And was he close?”

Leo glanced up from his knife. “Yes.”

“Leonardo,” a voice came suddenly, entering the restaurant. “What does your mother feed you, you gorgeous specimen?”

Logan froze. He knew that voice.

Leo rolled his eyes, and looked at the newcomers. “Fuck off, Saint. Hey, Sirius.”

“Hi,” a second voice came, and it was closer, almost beside Logan at the bar.

Leo’s eyes caught on Logan’s again, probably meaning to introduce him, but he stopped instead.

“What’s wrong?” Leo asked.

But Logan just shook his head, and then the newcomers—Saint and Sirius—were leaning against the bar. Logan felt the breath beside him catch just as his own had, and he turned to look.

Logan thought the boy standing beside him looked different. Older. More muscular. Squarer jaw. But the same. Same eyes. Same shock of blond hair. Same warm, brown skin.

“Logan?” Saint breathed, his eyes disbelieving.

Logan went to open his mouth, when Saint’s arms were around him suddenly.

“It’s Saint,” he said softly, just for Logan’s ears. He squeezed him tighter. “God, you’re here.”

“Saint?” Logan whispered into his shoulder. No one had touched him like this in what felt like forever.

“Yeah,” Saint said. He pulled back and raised an eyebrow. “Okay?”

Logan shrugged. “I…yeah, okay.”

“Knutty,” Saint’s serious expression morphed into a grin. He leaned against the counter, keeping his palm on Logan. “Handsome as ever.”

Logan blinked at Saint, then at Leo. “Knutty?”

Leo rolled his eyes. “Don’t listen to a word he says.”

“Oh, Logan already knows not to do that,” Saint laughed. He tapped his cross necklace. “We’re practically brothers.”

“Oh,” Leo blinked. “Right.”

The other boy—Sirius—looked just as taken aback.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Saint called in a sing-song voice, looking at Sirius. “Order for us, won’t you? And get us a table? Logan,” Saint nodded towards the door. “Come hither.”

Logan was so thankful to see Saint, he nearly tripped while getting up. A familiar face. A familiar anything. Saint had gotten out almost seven years ago. He’d been there one day, in his bed, in classes, in the courtyard, and gone the next.

“Sweetheart?” Logan asked, glancing back inside at the dark-haired boy, Sirius.

Saint just put his hands on Logan’s arms, eyes more intent than Logan had ever seen them, then on Logan’s cheeks. “Holy shit, how did you get out?”

Logan felt his heart slow, then speed up. He swallowed dryly. “Finn. How did you?”

Saint ignored the question.

“Finn,” Saint repeated, nodding. “Of course. When?”

“About a month ago. And he—he’s still in there,” Logan said. “He’s…And I’m—”

“I hear you,” Saint said. He jerked his head over to the table. “Not now. Let’s get back.”

“Saint?” Logan asked again.

Saint rolled his eyes. “Leave it alone. For now.”

Saint hadn’t been ready. He hadn’t seen Logan in nine years, but he’d know his face anywhere. All eyelashes and sad, green eyes. A smile he wore with Finn only. He looked spooked now, and tired. They’d sat at the bar, watching one of Leo’s shifts go and another one come, then moved to a table. Watching it get dark outside now, Saint wondered where Logan had been living for a month.

He eyed the backpack that Logan held so protectively close, and thought of the way Dorcas did the same thing.

Saint had a bad feeling.

“So, how’d you two meet?” Sirius said, gesturing between Logan and Leo with a fry when Leo brought over more water.

“Party,” Leo shrugged after a moment of hesitation. “Shack Beach.” He jerked his head at Saint. “You two were there, judging by Sirius’ shiner. Could hear that fight at my house, probably.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “I didn’t start it.”

“True,” Saint said, wondering how he had missed Logan that night. “Some God—albeit a beautiful one—thought we were selling Crucio.”

Saint flicked his eyes over to Logan. Sure enough, he blushed.

Saint cocked his head. “The horror. Dangerous stuff.”

Leo looked at Saint quietly, and glanced at Logan, then back to him. Saint nodded. Got it, it said.

“Well, would you look who it is,” said a deep voice from behind them, and then there were two strong arms around Saint and Sirius. Pascal placed a loud kiss on each of their heads.

“Eck,” Sirius laughed. “You smell like grease, old man.”

Pascal Dumais laughed. “Grease that feeds you, maybe. And who’s this?”

“Dumo, meet Logan,” Saint said. “Logan, meet Pascal. He owns the Lion with his wife, Celeste.”

“The most beautiful woman in the world,” Pascal said, accent heavy. “Logan, it’s nice to meet you.”

Saint watched Pascal eye Logan’s necklace.

“We were together at Saint Clair,” he supplied.

“Maybe not so loud,” Logan said harshly. “Saint.”

“Oh?” Pascal said, and squinted at Logan. “Who are you with now, mon cher?”

Saint watched Logan open his mouth, frozen, and was about to speak up when—

“Me,” Leo cut in. He looked down at the carrots he was chopping as he said it. “Me and my mom.”

Oh, Saint thought.

“Oh, Leonardo,” Saint sighed. “Un ange.”

“Not my name,” Leo said.

“I know.”

“Yeah,” Logan replied to Pascal’s still questioning gaze. “Yeah.”

“I see,” Pascal nodded. “Well, I’m happy you and your mother will have a helping hand now. I miss your father dearly, mon fils.” He smiled sadly at Leo.

Leo just nodded. “Yeah.”

“Him and his treasure, eh?” Pascal said. “A wonderful man. I miss going out on that boat of his.”

Leo’s smile was small, but fond. “Those were some of his favorite mornings.”

“Treasure?” Sirius asked.

“Black!” a new voice shouted. “Thank fuck.”

Saint looked up when Sirius did. James and Remus were barreling towards them from the dark outside.

“Good lord,” Saint said. “Rain, from Olympus. Water my crops, why don’t you.”

“James?” Sirius said. “What are you—”

James and Remus walked right up to their table—Remus looking slightly more reluctant. “We have a question.”

“How did you know we were here?” Sirius raised an eyebrow. “I mean, just…it’s a little out of your way, non?”

“Remus came here earlier, and when I told him—well, you’ll see—he said maybe you’d be here.”

Saint watched Sirius’ eyes narrow at Remus, confused. “Okay…”

“Well, it’s good to see you again, tweedle-hot,” Saint said to Remus. “Up close this time. We actually though you were going to sail right out of sight this morning.”

Sirius stepped on his toe beneath the table.

“Excuse me?” Remus choked out. “What the fuck did you—”

James blinked at Saint, then shook his head, as if to right his thoughts. “All right, setting every strange thing that comes out of your mouth aside for a moment —where is Dorcas?”

“Meadowes?” Logan chimed in.

James’ eyes turned on him. “You know her?”

Saint raised his hand. “I have the same question.”

“Well,” Logan hesitated. “Sure.”

“And she sells Felix,” James said, as if trying to confirm the information.

Logan narrowed his eyes. “Says you.”

James sighed. “I’m not here to turn her in, Jesus, I just have a question.”

“Do…” Sirius was looking at Logan. “Do you sell…”

“What kind of question?” Saint cut in.

Remus spoke up. “A does-she-deal-to-Luke type of question.”

Saint laughed. “Deveaux?”

“You know who Luke is, Saint,” Remus sighed.

“Well, yeah I do, Lupin, he tried to buy off me,” Saint shook his head with a tisking sound. “Turns out he’s a prejudice piece of eye candy. Who knew.”

“Come on,” James sighed, rubbing his eyes beneath his glasses. “Please, Sirius, come on.”

Sirius shrugged. “We don’t know who Dorcas deals to. We’re not involved.”

“If you did would you tell us?”

Sirius smiled, just a little. “Probably not. But I really don’t know.”

James sighed, sagging away from the table. He looked at Remus. “Fuck.”

“What were you hoping to accomplish here?” Sirius asked slowly.

“We—” Remus said, then sighed, too. “We were going to see if she would agree to stop. If it was her, if she would stop giving it to him.”

“We’d pay her,” James added. “Obviously.”

Saint scoffed, and Logan laughed a little, too, from beside him.

“Obviously,” Saint mimicked.

“We just meant—” Remus began.

“We know what you meant,” Sirius said.

Saint popped a fry into his mouth. “If we’ll clean your pools for a few bucks, we’ll grant you three wishes, too.”

“Jesus, Saint,” James groaned.

“Mary. Joseph—”

James ran his hands through his hair. “We’re sorry, we misspoke. We’re just trying to help our friend. His dad got taken to jail, his mom pops pills all day and night. That’s already draining what little money the bank didn’t seize and if he wants to do anything with his life he needs a straight head. Just—fuck, we’re just asking.”

Saint prided himself on gathering information, but most of that were things he didn’t know. Luke’s dad had got taken away. But the pills? The financial distress? All of that paired with that guarded snarl the boy always seemed to wear…it almost made Saint feel sorry for Luke Deveaux. He almost said so.

Instead, he said, while twirling the cross around his neck. “Wow, he must feel like an orphan or something.”

“All right,” Remus sighed. “James, let’s just go.”

“What does he look like?” Logan said suddenly before they could turn to leave.

James looked a him warily. “Um. Sort of blond-ish. More brown-haired, I guess. Big guy, built and tall and all that. Oh, he’s got this green spot in one eye.”

Logan nodded. James raised an eyebrow. Saint waited.

“How much will you pay me to stop selling to him?” Logan finally said. He rose as he did, slinging his backpack over one shoulder. “That’s a lot out of my pocket.”

“Logan,” Saint said, but Logan didn’t look at him.

James blinked. “I—oh. Oh, uh—God, what do you want? Two hundred?”

"One grand,” Logan said.

James laughed. “Dude. Who the fuck are you? No, I don’t have that much just—on me.”

“Logan,” Saint warned again, and this time Logan did look at him. Saint shook his head softly.

“Fine,” Logan said through his teeth, and held out his hand. “Two.”

James took his wallet out and handed over the cash.

“Thanks,” Remus said from a little behind James’ shoulder. “Really.”

Logan just nodded, shoved the bills into his pocket, and headed for the door.

“Pardon,” Saint sent a grin to them all, and followed him.

Once they were outside, Saint gave him a wack on the back of the head.

“Fuck,” Logan swore. “S—”

“You get out of that shit-hole and you go around selling Crucio? To Gods?”

“I—”

“I mean, seriously, what the fuck was that? Do you know how not careful that was?”

“I don’t even know who that boy is,” Logan bit back.

Saint blinked. “What?”

Logan looked out towards the ocean where they could hear the waves crashing against the shore. “He offered to pay, and so I told him what he wanted to hear. When his friend shows up hallucinating next, that’s their problem.”

Saint scoffed. “Fine, okay, clever boy. But you do sell Crucio.”

“Felix,” Logan countered. “And yes.”

“Crucio. And no.”

Logan shrugged. “I need the money.”

“For what?”

Logan looked at him and, this time, his eyes were hard. Desperate. “For Finn.”

Saint froze. He opened his mouth, and then closed it. “Excuse me?”

“If I can get enough cash, I can get Finn,” Logan said.

Saint stared at him, and then Saint laughed. Then, he laughed louder.

“You’re shitting me,” Saint said. “You think that?”

“What do you…”

“You think you can buy Finn out?” Saint repeated incredulously. “You think you can walk back in there and buy Finn out.”

Logan took a breath. “He—”

“Logan, Jesus Christ,” Saint snapped. “You walk anywhere near that place and you are never getting back out.” Saint pressed a hand to Logan’s shoulder and shook him. “Do you hear me?”

“I need to do something,” Logan shouted back. “I need to do something, I can’t just leave him in there, he’s everything to me.”

Saint shook his head. “He got you out. Don’t waste that.”

Logan nodded, eyes bright with tears now. “And you know he got punished for it. You know he did—”

“Stop,” Saint spat, glancing around, as if anyone could hear. “Don’t.”

“You could help me,” Logan said, wiping his nose. “Bash, you got out once—”

“No,” Saint said, and turned away. “No. And don’t call me that. Don’t you ever call me that.”

“Please,” Logan begged. “Please—Saint.”

Saint whirled on him again. “I am never going near there, and neither are you. Finn’s still in there, fine. But he’ll need to get himself free like us if he wants it bad enough.”

“I owe money,” Logan began, then his breathing hitched. “I owe them, I took some of it to see—to see Finn and…Bash—Saint—”

“Them?” Saint took a step forward. “Them?”

Logan pressed a hand over his eyes, but Saint walked forward and pulled it away.

“Logan,” he said lowly. “Tell me you didn’t.”

Logan closed his eyes, mouth twisting against his tears.

“Tell me, right now, that you didn’t let the Carrows tell you they’d help you. And that you didn’t believe them.”

Logan shook his head, not in negation, but in defeat. “I need him. I need him, I’m so…I’m alone.”

Saint pulled Logan against his chest and let him cry. The sobs heaved out of him for a long while, until the collar of Saint’s shirt was wet. Until Logan was breathing softly again, exhausted, and until his voice sounded shot when he spoke.

“You’re really staying with Leo?” Saint asked, more gently this time.

Logan nodded.

“I have a place, too. Here, in The Hollow. If you want.”

“With the others?” Logan rasped.

“What others?”

“How many others are out?” Logan said softly.

Saint shook his head, fingers in Logan’s hair. “Just me, that I know of.”

“You still wear it,” Logan said, pulling back to look at him. “The cross.”

Saint let his hands drop with a last touch to Logan’s hot cheek. “So do you.”

They were both silent.

“I’m sorry about Finn,” Saint said rigidly. “I know how much he meant to you.”

Logan’s brows pulled together. “He’s not dead.”

Saint nodded. “Right.”

“Saint…” Logan began, and Saint heard the almost B instead. “Would you—just thinking about it—“

“No,” Saint said, and then turned and went back inside.

Sirius, back at the table, looked at his face, and then at his wet shirt.

“Okay?” he asked softly when Saint sat down.

“Just dandy,” Saint replied, and looked towards the door. Logan was gone.

#warnings: brief mention of drugs and past abuse and death of a father #relic keel #lumosinlove #relic keel lumosinlove #wolfstar #wolfstar fic #saint #lumosinlove ocs #Logan tremblay #Leo knut #lelo #Logan Tremblay x Leo knut #o'knutzy

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boop-le-snoot · 3 years

Text

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 14

FIRST TIME READER, click here

TWs / Summary: Petrolhead dorks! Just Rich People Things. Car sex with daddy Tony! Poor cop LMAO. Snark snark snark. Unsafe driving - don't drive like that unless you know what you're doing! As for the inspiration for this chapter, thanks to @persephonehemingway and her deliciously filthy fic on AO3. Y'know, the one with Beck and Tony and stuff... 😏

@miscmarvelwritings is a lovely beta. Baby gay 🥺✨

Soft, steady rumbling of the engine; it reminded me of a lion's purr. I could feel it under me, reverberating through the driver's seat, whirring beneath my hand as I put the car in drive. It was such a shame Royce had an automatic transmission. Unlike most people, I actually enjoyed driving stick, the option of controlling the speed one gear by one gear was exhilarating.

My face felt hot. I pulled out of the parking lot evenly, driving through the city streets at a moderate pace, not the speed limit-because in a car like this it would be a crime-but not dashing around madly either. The beast under me was to be savoured and savour I did.

"You're enjoying this," Tony quipped cheekily, having made himself comfortable with his feet on the dash. His sneakers laid in a haphazard heap halfway under his seat. A picture of lavish comfort. "Take a left, go on the highway. We can afford to go a little crazy."

Not the one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I followed his instructions, accelerating in excitement. A little past ten o'clock, the cars on that particular stretch of road were few and in-between. The streetlights blinked their greetings, the speedometer surely and steadily climbing over the 80MPH mark.

I laughed. I couldn't keep it in even if I tried; with a car of this size, this weight, such a relatively low speed felt twice as exciting.

"Go faster," Tony ordered, sitting up straighter. "Faster."

"Yes, daddy," I snarked, flooring it. The g-force took hold of us briefly, flattening our backs with the seat. I laughed again, adrenaline pumping throughout my body, giving me that extra attention boost. I easily maneuvered around a couple of minivans around the 110 MPH mark. The engine sang and roared. "Wanna see something cool?"

Tony's pupils were blown wide, the amber irises nearly invisible in the sea of black. He was turned on, incredibly so. "Yes, baby girl," He groaned.

I was familiar with the road just enough to pull off a stunt with the barest bit of luck. Karma was on my side that evening, I wasn't going to waste any more time. My blood sang, demanding a release of the pent-up tension. Another two miles and I spied the dimly lit exit on my right side; not a soul in sight but Tony's wide-eyed wonder, I went in for the kill.

Tires squealed, obscuring my happy little noise and Tony's shocked exhale as I steered into the narrow opening, missing the railings by a mere few inches. The Royce went into full drift, it's wheels automatically locking, and I had no doubt the tires would need a change after this - but we pulled through, the car evening out just as a straight stretch of road appeared again.

The multiple lights flashing were disregarded by me along with quiet angry beeping, I was overtaken by my own bravado. Not once I hesitated but my hands still shook, tiny little tremors. Tony saw it, too, I noticed - gaze hungry, he eyed my left wrist nonchalantly hanging over the steering wheel. We were still going steadily at 100 MPH.

"Tony?" I asked, proud and happy.

"Princess," He answered, breathless. "Pull over, over there," pointing somewhere to my right.

Confused by his sudden change of attitude, I nonetheless, complied, parking on a small patch of concrete. It looked like an abandoned gas station or some creepy shit.

"Come here," As soon as I shut down the car, I felt myself roughly pulled into his lap.

Tony's hands were everywhere, on my hips, on my tits, under my dress. His own arousal in constraints, he positioned me right on top of it, grinding slowly and desperately into my center. I was right there with him, hungry for the way his mouth immediately attached itself to mine, tongue plunging straight into my throat without finesse.

Agile fingers toyed with my breasts and I raked my nails down his throat in retaliation; neither of us knew who moaned first into the kiss. We swallowed the breathy sound, shared it between us. The smell of adrenaline and arousal seeped into the space between us, thick, foggy.

Fumbling around his pants was, probably, not very sexy, but neither of us cared about the article of clothing after pushing it down his hips. There wasn't much space to work with. We managed just fine, the brief moment of discomfort paying off with the delicious stretch of his cock inside me.

"Oh, fu-u-uck, so-o go-o-od," I was ready to pray to any God, as long as I could keep riding the tidal waves of pleasure.

"Yes, fuck me, Princess," Tony parroted the sentiment. His narrow hips stuttered, blunt rip of his cock brushing inside of me, hitting a sensitive spot. Sparks burst from within, urging me to move.

Bracing my knees on the outside of his thighs, I gripped Tony - his shoulders, his hair - for leverage. He loved the tug of war I played with his locks as evidenced by the immediate groan and the tightening of his hands on my ass. He squeezed the flesh without mercy, pulling, sheathing himself as deep as he could within me.

The grinding, the drag of my clit against the soft happy trail on his tummy did it for me. Uncharacteristically quickly, I was coming, arching my back and pushing my tits right into his face where the wet heat of his mouth sloppily, greedily made a trail of hickeys and left the tender flesh stinging in between whispering dirty praises.

Tony's girth felt that much thicker as my inner muscles spasmed. I began bouncing rapidly, chasing that fleeting feeling that turned me into an incoherent, babbling mess and made my spine feel liquid. The man under me matched the vigour, meeting me halfway, fucking up into me as much as the position allowed him to.

"Fuck, Tony, so big," The angle changed as I bent down to devour his mouth once again. The silky tresses between my fingers became a tangled mess.

One of his arms slid under my dress, holding it up and wrapping around me, pressing me close. Tony was getting under my skin. I felt the slick of him through his shirt. The faint glow and scratch of the arc reactor solidified the experience for me - it was so Tony, the most obvious part of him, perhaps, when he wasn't smiling.

His mouth was occupied with ravenously consuming every noise that left me. I was loud, always have been, and there wasn't a situation where it's been as blatantly on display as then - in a dark car, in the middle of nowhere. We shared those noises like a gourmet meal.

"Baby, baby girl," The tell-tale tightening of his abs was an obvious signal to his incoming orgasm. "Fu-u-uck". He seemed beyond words.

"Tony, please, I'm so close," I begged him to hold on, just a moment more, my own release a glimpse on the horizon. He moaned, deep and low in his chest and I felt it - right there, burying my face in the crook of his neck.

Suddenly, a sharp sting blossomed on my backside. My pace stuttered at the sudden pain; and the following thrill had me increase my pace, pussy squeezing around his cock, clutching at it in hopes of finding release. The need ached.

"Baby girl, come for me," Tony ordered, winded and stuttering, causing me to grip his shoulders, nails digging into taut, tan skin. I was nearly there, the fall approaching inevitably. How did the man manage to sound so cheeky whilst being ridden to near-death, I didn't know, but his next words had me muffling a scream into the pristine, expensive fabric of his blazer. "Come for Daddy."

I wasn't sure of the sound that I made while my body involuntarily obeyed his orders. I shuddered momentarily, following with another curl of my toes as I felt the hot seed of his release spill right into me, curses being muttered in my ear and his arms, his hands, him bodily holding himself as close to me as humanly possible. We stayed like that - maybe it was an hour, or maybe it was just five minutes. It felt heavenly.

"My jeans are FUBAR," Tony suddenly snorted.

"I think one of the straps on my dress is somewhere in the backseat," I parroted him. "Good times."

"Indeed," He stretched under me, gently, as to not dislodge me too much.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the driver's side window. A faint outline of a flashlight shining behind the glass - I was very much grateful for the fact that all the glass on Tony's car was tinted.

Of course, both of us were unprepared: startled, we jumped, spreading the mess from between my thighs all over the place. Groaning, I climbed over the console and rolled down the window a couple of inches, noting how Tony had one of his gauntlets shining - and a police officer's equally shiny badge greeted me. Grumbling, I rolled the window the whole way down.

"Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask your license and regi-whoa, um, I'm- good evening, Mr. Stark," The cop was young and very obviously hadn't slept very well. The words he mumbled on autopilot and stopped only when Tony's face popped up somewhere around my lap.

"Hello, officer," Tony smiled, bright and shiny public smile. "Don't mind us, just enjoying a quiet evening." The engineer's smile was cheeky. His pants weren't even done fully up and I, no doubt, spouted some serious case of sex hair, not mentioning the torn dress. I had to discreetly check if I didn't accidentally flash the poor cop.

"Uh, umm, sorry Mr. Stark," The cop - officer Charles, I checked - nervously stammered, obviously privy to the situation at hand. "Is everything alright here?"

"Absolutely. We were just about to leave."

"Well then. Uh. Can I ask - a picture?"

Really, dude? REALLY??? I was about this much away from just starting the car and driving the fuck off. But Tony was calm.

"Sure," He looked at me mischievously. "Let's swap, I'll drive us home."

His penchant for trouble knew no limits. I rolled my eyes, but it was just for show, really. The littlest worm of malicious compliance had already started squirming in me. My coat lay forgotten in the back seat - I proudly displayed the torn dress strap and the array of lovemarks leading up to my throat as I stepped out of the car. The crisp autumn air barely affected my sex-heated body outside of the warm car, doing only as much as to stiffen my nipples.

The way officer Charles did a double-take, I'm sure he understood my and Tony's previous activities and re-evaluated his own life choices. Let the boy learn a lesson. "Bye-bye, officer," I smiled my biggest, girliest smile and made a point at slowly turning around and sashaying to the other side of the car where Tony stood, discreetly checking his belt.

He met me with a smirk, chivalrously holding the door open and making a show at helping me into the car. We shared a muted chuckle.

"Ugh, I gotta go home, all my school shit is there," I rolled my eyes to the skies. Tony drove. AC/DC sung sultry tunes in the background quietly.

"Pack a bag, I'll wait," The engineer's warm hand found my own. He said what he said without even missing a beat. Such an unexplainable circumstance, all these new feelings I was feeling. It was a lot to process.

And I was cock-drunk. Packing my bag was an absolute ten minute disaster. I was pretty sure my socks didn't match and I had forgotten my make-up, but I triple checked for the most important - homework.

"I'm starving," I announced, hanging off Tony in the elevator. For all purposes, we were a perfectly poised domestic portrait. Disheveled, my coat and Tony's blazer loosely draped over my left arm, my backpack hanging off his right shoulder. He hadn't bothered with putting on his shoes and my neck, face and hair looked like a crime scene.

The elevator doors opened at the same time Tony gathered his wits: "Bye-bye officer? Really?"

A dozen confused eyes stared at us from the common room couch. Surprised for the second time that evening, all we were capable of was owlishly blink in their general direction, words dying before they could have made it to the surface.

I snorted first, towing Tony in the direction of the kitchen. "What was I supposed to do, pray tell? Flash him?"

Behind us, I heard a thud. Then Steve's voice cursing. Then Bucky's.

"You could've. If you wanted to," Tony mused. "You have great tits."

"Aw, thanks. You have a nice dick. It's got a great curve."

"Aren't you the nicest?" Tony kissed my cheek, hiding the upcoming laughter as we both heard more swearing and moaning coming from the living room.

"I need a broom," Bucky appeared in the doorway just as I was pulling out some pizza slices to reheat. The super-soldier made no move for the supply closet, however, instead openly staring at my state of dress. His face bore the tell-tale signs of a person trying to hold in their cackling.

"Did you see a ghost, Elsa?" Tony quirked from the coffee machine.

"Can I flash this one, then?" I suddenly had an Idea. And when I had an Idea, I was unstoppable. "He might not be an officer but technically he's a Sargent, so..."

"Okay," Bucky began to inch backwards, step by step in the direction of the living room, holding his hands up. "Y'all crazy. I'mma head out."

"Good call," Tony saluted Barnes' retreating back. "As for you? You're in so much trouble, Princess," The arm that wasn't occupied by a coffee cup wrapped itself around my waist, grip firm and unyielding. Blindly groping for a moment, it found my boob, squeezing it twice for good measure as Tony slurped his holy bean juice. "Mine."

"Yours," I agreed simply. Meaning it. Then, I leaned backwards to whisper into the shell of his ear with a snicker: "Daddy."

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vaguely-concerned · 3 years

Text

The Mandalorian Chapter 12 rewatch thoughts

- I would like to thank them for keeping in din’s harried yet triumphant ‘hAH!!’ when he gets the explosives to stick to gideon’s ship in the ‘hey remember when this happened last season’ section, that was a nice gesture from the showrunners to me personally, I assume

- this episode actually helped me find more enjoyment in the last one, because it’s such a nice reassurance that even though they’re pulling in more stuff from other star wars media this show won’t suddenly stop being its own thing and mando won’t suddenly stop being himself and it’s very comforting to me somehow haha

- the small hesitation before din calls out “do you... do you have the wire?” lol lol lol he’s completely aware of the bizarreness of what he’s doing here but hey being alive is already so damn weird etc.

the softness of his voice the whole way through and the fact that he never, never blames the baby for not being able to do what shouldn’t really be asked of him in the first place, tho... ;____;

- the tiny exasperated head tilt din does when he realizes the hatch isn’t going to extend all the way fdslkfhasdlashfs

- din is looking down at the baby the entire time while greef talks to the mechanics ❤️❤️❤️

(the baby seems pretty drawn to/excited to see greef again and mando seems to notice which is extremely cute. he’s becoming really good at tuning in with the kid)

he also greets cara baby first in much the same way as he does peli, like he knows what the main attraction here is lol, they do a very sweet bro nod at each other. god I wish gina carano wasn’t so terrible imagine if we could just have this BrOTP without hesitations :(

I think greef is actually a bit worried to begin with after seeing the ship, he sort of takes din in intently before he huffs a little laugh and grabs his arm. it must be a bit stressful to be his friend and not be able to see his expression right away when you worry something might be seriously wrong haha

- people are finally treating the baby like you would a real baby and it’s such a blessing, everyone talking and cooing at him and baby babbling back

(I wonder if greef has children of his own? he does have an undeniable air of experienced grandpa about him in this episode, it’s adorable)

- din does so much talking -- unprompted, even! -- these days, it truly is an embarrassment of riches

- capital E Emotional about this shot with IG-11 right behind din and cara inviting him into the school in front of him. some past carried with us into the future shit going on here

IG-11′s legacy’s still got our back y’all :’) I swear to god if gideon blows up nevarro at some point I’m going to lose it

the ‘oh yeah?/that so?’ way din leans his head back after she says “wait until you see inside” is also amazing

- baby reaching out his hand like ‘can have?’ is so polite ;______; he takes after his father (including in the ‘fool me twice, I’ll fuck you up’ department haha. listen you get one chance to be cool about it and then no more mr nice mando/baby)

go ahead, kid, make a fuss about it. who are you going to tell, huh? who’s going to believe you? you gonna tell them you got bested by a baby? a magic baby? no? that’s right. I took your dignity as easily as I took your macarons, there’s nothing you can do to change it, and now you gotta live with that. sweet dreams.

(this is a joke. the baby is not evil. I hate that I even have to specify this but I’ve seen some stupid shit in the tags in my time you guys haha)

- I can’t work out what anything on greef’s desk is supposed to be, but if that’s a computer it’s got to be older than even the razor crest lol

- friends: din yes?

mando: din no, only repairs

friends: din yes please?

mando: ... [sigh] din yes

he truly has next to no defense against people he actually likes asking him for something huh lol. well a self care co-op mission clearly did him a world of good in this one at least it’s all fine

- “I’m starting to dehydrate, Boss” is an excellent line and delivered perfectly, I cackle every time (”You park your gills right there until I say otherwise” is a good runner up too)

- it’s so nice to see the small moments of communication between them in this one after mando was so out of sync with the team in the last one (and tbf those guys didn’t even try to give him any pointers at all, they really left him to flounder through the whole thing if you watch it carefully haha)

- the mythrol’s jacket still looks so comfy, I want one

- aaaaah the way din says “I don’t like this” is just so... hnnngh it’s perfect, there’s a vulnerability and openness to it for a moment. greef glances over at him like he hasn’t heard him sound like this before too, which just sells it even more

u ok bro?

you know shit’s fucked up when din djarin expresses an emotion without even being forced to by circumstance (I think what I mean is that it’s actually really rare for him to state how he feels about something just to do it, usually his communication is more practically oriented, more along ‘I think this is the best cause of action because of a and b’ lines, or like when he tells omera he’s grateful it’s... more to inform her of it and make sure she knows than to express himself? but he’s starting to do it more with people he trusts now and it gets me in the heart? man I’m finding this hard to articulate let’s move on lol)

- I really, really wonder about pershing’s position in all of this. his plea for the child’s life did sound genuine -- he did try to guard him with his own noodly scientist body when he thought din was out to hurt him, remember -- but is that only because he knows he’s in deep shit himself without the blood the baby can give? is he maybe not quite cool with whatever gideon has him doing? (he does sound quite strained when he talks about the ‘body’ rejecting the transfusion and the ‘volunteer’ potentially suffering the same fate... hm.)

idk why I want there to be something redeemable in him so bad, maybe it’s just my weird yet enduring attachment to ladon radim in stargate atlantis messing with me they’re kind of similar in some ways (yeah don’t ask me I don’t know either sometimes the heart wants what it wants in ways reason can’t explain)

- tfw ur literally launching yourself across a pool of boiling lava because you’re Dad and your baby’s in danger T__________T he just does not stop running towards that kid for even a single second help

- there’s something so innocently pure and... old fashioned? about the scene with mythrol and greef screaming the entire time they drive off the cliff, it feels like something out of a movie from like three decades ago. that whole segment feels a bit like that, it’s just there to be fun and that’s okay sometimes

- every dog fight in every movie should have a baby nonchalantly snacking on a cookie in them, it elevates the experience immeasurably (he squishes his nose a little bit with the macaron when he misses his mouth at one point, which is more than anyone should be expected to bear honestly)

I love that even all fixed up again the razor crest groans and creaks like an old tired thing when din makes it flip to dive, he 100% did take out a bunch of ferraris in his stalwart morris minor of a spaceship and I treasure him

- there’s so much life and emotion in din’s voice here I can’t!!!! I simply can’t!!!! imagine if we get to hear him openly laugh one day, would I even survive it??!!!!

also the kid makes such pitch perfect ‘having my lil nose wiped and whining about it’ baby noises when din uses his cape to clean him up (din does turn the autopilot on before he turns around to deal with it, for those who, like me, worry about these things)

- between carson showing up and the stuff the droid talks about in the lesson they’re doing quite a bit of outer rim vs. core worlds theme building in this one, I wonder if this is going to ramp up more or what

- god but gideon’s theme SLAPS tho

he’s probably going to try to fuck up everything I love but you can’t fault him on the tunes he’s going to do it to

#star wars #the mandalorian #the mandalorian spoilers #the mandalorian meta #and now off to bed like I should have been half an hour ago lol

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vintagedolan · 4 years

Text

sweet creature (egd)

ethan hates when he has to leave you for even a few days, so when he gets back, he has a little surprise planned

word count: 4.3k

warnings/tags: fluff, and then some smut to round it out WOO we goin through it today ladies and gents, harry styles (music) is involved :)

dedicated to my bruna bby ( @ethanhes ) who is so strong and the sweetest girly I know. I love you!!

feel free to send in requests! and check out my masterlist if you wanna :)

Like hell you were gonna make another trip - you slid the last grocery bag onto your arm, ignoring how they were digging into your skin as you started your walk into the house. If anyone had watched you try to navigate your way in the door, it probably would have been quite the sight. But you succeeded, emerging into an empty kitchen, heaving the heavy bags up onto the counter.

Usually, you’d yell down the hall, summon the boys to help you unpack. But it would be futile - no one was home. Not even Sterling was around - the three of them were off on Wakeheart business, at the factory in Arizona where everything was actually produced so they could approve all the candle production.

You’d gotten a few pictures from the trip - bright colorful sunsets, Grayson and Sterling smiling from across the table at breakfast. But your favorites were the stupid little selfies he kept sending. Your phone buzzed in your pocket as if on cue.

Another snapchat from Ethan, this time of him with a metal straw trapped between his teeth and big smile on his face. Adorable, as always.

cold brew mood. miss you x was the caption that flitted across the screen. You screenshotted it just in time. The next buzz was a text from him.

why you screenshot

cause you looked cute

send me one back, I miss you

You rolled your eyes at that, deciding to make him wait for a minute while you started to put the groceries away. You’d only unpacked two bags before your phone buzzed again.

hey

show me ur face

omg gimme a minute 😂

im putting away the obscene amount of oat milk I just bought

DID THEY HAVE THE GOOD KIND

yep. bought three cartons

holy shit I love you

gray says he loves you too

but I love you more

You sent him a quick snapchat to appease him, unsurprised when you got the notification that he’d screenshotted it. He always got like this when he was away - even more clingy than usual, constantly wanting to communicate with you somehow. You had to admit, you loved the idea that you were always on his mind when he wasn’t with you, even if it did mean you felt like you were constantly on your phone.

what else are you doing today?

idk might lay out by the pool for a while

without me? 😔

you should go shopping

You frowned at your phone, looking at the few boxes of pasta you had left to put away before you typed back with a huff.

I literally just got back from the grocery what do u mean

not that kind of shopping

fun shopping. like for clothes

The thought was tempting - with everything going on, you hadn’t gotten anything new in months. To be fair though, you hadn’t really needed anything new - you were just hanging around the house anyways.

do you want me to go so I’ll stop wearing all your clothes

yes

kidding baby you know I don’t care. but you should get some new stuff, you deserve it! just use my card

I hate using your card

It wasn’t a lie. Ethan had gotten you a credit card linked to his personal account for emergencies almost six months ago, and you’d only used it a handful of times when he insisted. You never wanted him to ever think that you cared about him for his money.

I’d be buying whatever you find if I was there, it’s the same thing

You grinned to yourself, plan already hatching. He didn’t say what you had to buy. You’d just get something small - a pack of socks, or a basic tee - with his card, and pay for the rest of it yourself.

alright alright, fine

But his next text had you rolling your eyes. He knew you too well.

and you have buy real clothes. like at least one dress

Even though he wasn’t there to see it, your eyes squinted in accusation.��

why a dress?

you’re being sus what’s this about

you’re so stubborn holy shit. I was gonna buy you dresses for the harry concert so I want you to pick some out for yourself

Damn. You’d almost forgotten that the concert was supposed to be that night. Ethan had bought the two of you tickets back when they went on presale, using his connections to get the two of you amazing seats. E had been almost as bummed as you when it got postponed, disappointed that the night he’d had planned for you had fallen through.

it got rescheduled to august baby, we can go shopping then!

i’m impatient

omg really? I had no idea

just go buy some dresses and send me pictures. we’re back at the factory, gotta go. I love you!

love you too!

Knowing that if you sat down you probably wouldn’t get back up, you turned back to the door with a sigh, grabbing your keys and wallet from where you’d just stowed them, heading back out to the car.

You climbed into Ethan’s Tesla, hitting your preset button on the door so the seat moved forward to where you could reach the pedals. He always insisted you take his car if he couldn’t drive you, always wanting you to be the safest you could be. It was still a bit intimidating to drive something so expensive, but you did it anyways, heading to the mall that housed most of your favorite stores with your mask on.

It turned out to be one of those days where nothing caught your eye. You really looked, scoured through the racks, hoping to find anything that looked remotely appealing or like your style. You even tried on a few that you had hopes for, but they were a bust.

Feeling defeated you stopped for a while and got some coffee, sitting and people watching as everyone passed in their masks. Your eyes wandered to another store, one you rarely went into - it catered to your style perfectly, but everything was far out of your price range.

But looking couldn’t hurt. Right?

That backfired as soon as you walked in, smelled that perfect fragrance that seemed to dust all the soft fabrics in the place.

Before you knew what you’d done, you had so many options thrown over your arm that it was starting to ache.

You stopped looking, headed to a dressing room to try and narrow down your search. Some of them were automatic no’s, the cut not flattering or the color clashing with the undertones in your skin.

But there were three winners - a tight green one that hugged your curves, a casual denim overall number that would look adorable with the right shirt, and a blue sundress that tied into a bow at the back, the fabric brushing your upper thighs.

You snapped pictures in each one, knowing Ethan would help you decide. Your bet was on the green one - he was a man, after all. But his response just made you roll your eyes.

you look hot as fuck

buy all three

yes

they’re expensive

I didn’t ask how much they cost. You like them all. therefore, you buy them all

it’s simple really

ethan

y/n

just tell me which one is your favorite please

if you don’t buy all three i’m just gonna go back and buy them for you later

or I’ll order them and have them shipped to the house

stop

getting online now 😌

stop it

placing an order 😌 😌

ethan grant

last chance

fine

im sticking my tongue out at you. you can’t see it but I am

ouch, im hurt

are you headed home after you buy them?

well I’m sure as hell not spending anymore money, so yeah. why?

just wondering where my girl’s gonna be. drive safe. you took the tesla right?

of course I did.

good. hurry home. but don’t hurry too much. safety first

You quirked an eyebrow at the last text - he was being so odd. He’d only been gone for two days, usually it wasn’t this bad for him. Who knew what he’d be like tomorrow before he got home.

Changing back into your clothes in a hurry, you put your rejects out on the return rack and carried your three choices to the register, trying not to listen to the total before you put Ethan’s card in the reader.

You left the mall swiftly after that, trying to ignore the eyes on you. In reality, no one was probably looking at you, but you felt like everyone was staring as you carried your expensive bag and got in a fucking tesla. You never understood how Gray and E could walk around with such expensive things and not be fazed in the slightest.

The drive home took longer than you would have liked considering the traffic you got caught in, but you just turned your music up, humming along as you crawled down the road towards your exit. When you finally got there you let the tesla take over, pulling you off the interstate and starting down the smaller roads that led to the house.

Your first clue was when the song changed. At first you didn’t think much of it - you had every Harry song saved to your library, it wasn’t unusual for one to come up.

But then, one verse into Fine Line, it skipped, the intro of Two Ghosts starting. 30 seconds later? Falling started to play through the car.

“What the fuck?” You muttered, quickly switching off autopilot, afraid that the car may be glitching. It was only a few more minutes until you got to the house, and in that time the song switched again twice, all Harry songs.

When you pulled into the driveway and put the car in park, your phone buzzed with your second clue.

welcome home baby

omg are you watching the cameras? that’s creepy as fuck

also the tesla just got super weird but I swear I didn’t fuck up your car

just come inside

You obliged, grabbing your bag and heading into the house.

Clue number three was that the pasta boxes you’d left on the counter were gone, put away no doubt on the shelf that you couldn’t reach. You froze.

Someone was in the house.

You only had a moment to be scared before Ethan appeared around the corner, your favorite grin adorning his face.

“Boo.”

You dropped the bag, running the few steps it took to get to him before you threw your arms around him, breathing him in as he hugged you to him tightly.

“You guys weren’t supposed to be home until tomorrow!”

“Caught an early flight so I could surprise my girl. Gray and Ster are still in Arizona.” He leaned back so you could look at him, shrugging as if it was no big deal that he’d cut his trip short just to come home to see you.

“Didn’t you have stuff you needed to do?”

“No, we knocked it out today.”

“Then why didn’t Grayson come ba-”

His lips were on yours then, catching your words as he kissed you hard, a hand coming up to your cheek, thumb running over your cheekbone. “Are you gonna keep asking me questions, or are you gonna let me actually surprise you.”

“There’s more?” The butterflies that only he could bring fluttered in your stomach, and you bit your lip, looking up at him. He leaned down past you, reaching for the bag you’d dropped, placing it back in your hands.

“Maybe. Go put on one of your new dresses, then come out back.” He pressed a quick kiss to your lips before he let go. “Hurry.”

“Okay!” You were practically giddy as you hurried back to Ethan’s room, laying the dresses out on the comforter and trying to decide on one. It took a few minutes, a few switches of holding them up to you in the mirror before you settled on the blue sundress, situating the big sewed bow in the middle of your back. It had a built in bra that was surprisingly comfortable, making it the easiest choice.

Shoving your dresses back in the bag, you didn’t even bother with shoes. You just headed straight for the backyard - but you froze in the living room, taking in the sight through the doors.

The sun was setting on the horizon, painting the sky a baby purple, the clouds a pop of pink as they floated, scattered around. The city was starting to light up below you, and the moon hung high above it. But your eyes were on something - someone - entirely different.

Ethan was standing in the grass, wearing one of his nice pairs of shorts and a short sleeve patterned button down - you hadn’t even noticed his outfit earlier, you’d been too excited to see him. He was holding a bouquet of sunflowers in his hands, the petals bright yellow even in the dim light.

He caught sight of you through the glass and immediately hid the flowers behind his back as he stood up straight and smiled like a guy coming to the front door to pick you up for prom.

You pulled the door open, stepping out into the cool California air. It felt almost cold against your flushed cheeks as Ethan looked you up and down, letting out a low whistle.

You just laughed, stopping a few steps in front of him and waiting for whatever he had planned.

He whipped the flowers around with a grin, holding them out for you with one hand, leaving his other arm tucked behind him. “Happy concert night!”

What you didn’t see was the remote in his other hand. He clicked it with his thumb, and the whole back yard lit up. There were twinkling christmas lights lining the roof and wrapping around the tree to the side of the house. He’d brought out Grayson’s projector and pointed it at a white sheet he’d hung up - you watched it for a moment, laughing when you realized it was projecting a slideshow of the pictures you two had taken together over the last year. And finally, you noticed the speakers had turned on, starting to play one of your favorite songs. Sweet Creature.

“E-”

“I know it got rescheduled, and we’ll have so much fun when we go. But, I still wanted to make tonight special. So, it’s kinda just date night, but... Harry Styles edition?”

Closing the gap with a few steps you threw your arms around his neck, flowers and all, so you could kiss him.

“I love you so much,” were the only words you could find, and you hoped he knew how much you truly meant them.

“Love me enough to dance with me?”

You froze at that - you weren’t much of a slow dancer, and Ethan had even less experience than you did. But the thought of staying so close to him made your heart flutter, so you nodded, letting go for a moment so you could sit the flowers down safely in the grass.

He pulled you back into his arms, hands settling on your waist as yours went around his neck. His fingertips ghosted over the bare skin on your back below the bow, sending shivers up your spine.

It didn’t matter that Sweet Creature was a tiny bit fast for a slow dance - the two of you weren’t doing more than swaying back and forth anyways, foreheads touching, totally lost in each other.

He spun you a few times, even throwing in a little dip that made you both laugh before he kissed you, leaving you a bit breathless when he pulled you back up to standing.

“You bring me home,” he sang, slightly off pitch and so quiet you could barely hear, but it was so sweet that it even brought a few tears to your eyes. You blinked them away so you could see his face as you both smiled.

The energy picked up a bit as the songs continued to shuffle, Carolina coming on next. You both jumped around hand in hand, looking like total idiots you were sure, stomachs sore from laughing at and with each other by the end. You paused a few times throughout the next songs to watch the slideshow, laughing at some of the pictures he’d chosen, remembering the stories behind them.

When Sunflower came on, Ethan opened his arms again for a dance and you quirked an eyebrow.

“You know, Mr. Styles doesn’t have as many romantic songs as I thought he did. This one’s not bad though,” Ethan mumbled as the two of you swayed back and forth quickly, spinning around and around.

“This song isn’t even romantic, it’s about him missing his ex,” you explained.

“You analyzed those lyrics hard huh.”

“Oh don’t act like you haven’t dissected every Cudi song five times over.” You squinted your eyes at him in accusation and he just laughed.

“Touché, touché. Maybe the sunflowers weren’t the best Harry related gesture then huh.”

“I still think they’re beautiful,” you reassured him.

“Thought it would kinda be weird to give you a watermelon. Though, I guess that would have sent a much clearer message.”

The mischief in his eyes told you he knew exactly what that song was about.

“A little on the nose, don’t yah think?” You scrunched up your nose at him as if to prove your point. He reached out for your hand and you laced your fingers with his.

“Never.”

And then he was walking, half pulling half guiding you back into the house, through the glass doors, down the hallway, into the bedroom. Your skin was hot, partially from the change in temperature, partially from the hands that were wandering over your skin as soon as the door was closed.

Ethan’s hands traced down your arms, fingertips over skin, then over fabric when he got to your waist, further down to your thighs and then you were gasping as he found his way under your skirt. His hands spread out, large and commanding over your ass, resting there for a moment, squeezing before he moved north, fingers hooking into your panties, guiding them down until they fell off and you could step out of them.

Your fingers found the buttons of his shirt, blindly undoing them as he kissed you. You found yourself pausing, hands tracing over the new yet familiar skin that revealed itself with each one you managed to loosen until finally, finally it was open and you could push it off his shoulders.

His hand found the bow, roughly starting to tug until you reached back and caught him.

“Baby don’t pull. It’s sewed, it doesn’t come undone,” you cautioned, barely pulling back, unwilling to put any space between the two of you.

“Stupid,” he grumbled, pouting a bit until he realized that he could pull the fabric off your shoulders, freeing your chest. He hummed a bit in satisfaction, hands moving to squeeze your tits, and then he was kissing them, sinking lower, lower until his knees hit the floor.

“Oh fuck,” you squeaked, knowing exactly what was about to happen.

Ethan looked up at you from his knees with a teasing grin and a quirked eyebrow, waiting for your permission. You nodded, trying to breathe as his hands ghosted up your thighs, up to your hips.

And then he ducked his head so he could get under the fabric of your skirt, ready to get to work.

Your knees buckled as soon as you felt him, tongue warm and flat against you. One of his hands came down, tracing over your skin until he got to your calf, lifting it just barely and pushing it out to widen your stance.

You whimpered as he sped up, his satisfied hums adding to the sensation in a way that had your legs starting to shake already. Your hands dropped to his head, and you pushed the fabric off the top of it so you could get to his hair, tugging. It just made him go harder, burying himself deeper. You folded forward, bracing on his shoulders, overwhelmed as you alternated holding you breathe and gasping for air, squirming.

“E, Ethan stop, my legs are gonna give out, wait,” you gasped, pulling on his hair.

He paused, ducking out from under your dress and smiling up at you, lips swollen and pride booming.

“That’s the best compliment you’ve ever given me I think. But I’m not done yet, lay down.”

You did as he said, turning around and climbing onto the middle of the bed before collapsing onto your back, rolling over and looking for him. Ethan was one second behind you, crawling above you to hover over you then duck down to kiss you hard yet somehow sweet at the same time.

It was instinct to reach down to his waist, let your fingers ghost over his waistband, tuck underneath it in a blind search. He sucked in a breath through his teeth when you wrapped your fingers around the tip. He shook his head at you, making you pout.

“Tonights about you, not me.”

“But I want to.”

“Raincheck. Best fucking raincheck ever, but raincheck. Just lemme take care of you.”

He kisses you until you forget your argument - you’re putty in his hands as his lips trail back down. He pushes all the fabric of your dress together so it’s just a band around your tummy and then he picked up where he left off.

“Fuck E, just like that, oh god.” You were squirming again in a matter of moments, his stubble rough against your thighs as he worked you over. He felt your body tense up under his hold, smiling as he gave it all he had, giving that extra little push that sent you tumbling, clenching, writhing over the edge.

He peppered kisses to your thighs as you caught your breath, and then he reached up, fists closing around all the fabric of your dress.

“Lift your hips up,” he instructed, waiting for you to bridge up so he could wiggle the dress off over your hips. He tossed it towards the closet, moving back up towards your face, bed dipping down with his weight.

“No fair,” you pouted, reaching down to tug at his shorts and boxers.

“And I’m the impatient one.”

He stood back up off the bed, quickly shoving down the clothing he had left and stepping out of it.

“Much better.” You grinned wide when you saw he was blushing at your words. “C’mere.”

He happily listened, crawling back above you and dropping a bit of his weight down as he sunk to his forearms.

“So missionary is the way to your heart huh? So vanilla.” He bumped his nose against yours.

“You have a pretty face, sue me,” you laughed, bringing your hands up to his neck and pulling him down for a kiss as he dropped his hips, searching for just a moment before he pushed inside.

You’d lost count of how many times the two of you had been just like this, intertwined and enthralled with each other, but you knew you’d never get tired of it as long as you lived.

“I love you.” It came out as a breath when he bottomed out, his lips resting on your shoulder, back curled up at an angle that let you feel every muscle, every ridge of his body.

“I love you. You’re my dream, you know that?” He started to rock his hips, unwilling to go too far from you as you clung to his back, relishing in the feeling of him on you, in you, all around you.

This would always be your favorite way to be with him - sweet and soft, just your bodies together, nothing else. You couldn’t think of anything better.

He shifted just barely, thrusting in at a different angle. You knew he was searching, and you gasped when he brushed against your g spot, your whole body shuddering.

“There she is,” he whispered, a prideful grin on his face as he hit it over and over. Watching you come undone below him would always be one of his favorite views. “Look at me baby, I wanna see you.”

You did your best in your blissed out state to listen to him, turning your head from where it had fallen against the pillow to look at him while he picked up pace. Your legs curled around his back, holding him to you, urging him as deep as he could go as you chased the orgasm that was building in your gut.

He stared at you for a few moments, and then as if he couldn’t help it he ducked down to kiss you, open mouthed and rough as he pulled his hips back, thrusting forward with more force than he’d used yet.

“Oh fuck Ethan, fuck,” you moaned, holding onto him for dear life. When he snaked one hand between the two of you to find your clit, you were done for.

His breath caught in his throat as you clenched around him and you heard the whimpers through your cloudy haze, mixtures of pleasure and your name as he came undone, hip stuttering and then stopping when he finally hit his high.

Once he’s caught his breath he rolls the both of you over so you’re resting on his chest, listening to his heart rate settle back down under your ear.

“I’m so glad you came home early,” you sighed, hugging his bare torso as he chuckled.

“Me too baby. Me too.”

#BRUNA DIS IS FOR YOU #I wrote this assuming everyone loves harry styles cause if you don't wyd haha #HOPE YOU ALL LIKE IT PLS TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK #ethan imagines #lynds writes #ethan dolan #dolan twins #ethan dolan imagine #ethan dolan fanfiction

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orionwhispers · 4 years

Text

Perfect Places // Steve Harrington

(A/N - yep. this isnt peaky, i know. im taking a little breather so i dont completely burn out writing tommy, but trust me i have 3 wips for him coming soon!! i dont know if any of you guys will like this bc its stranger things and thats ok!! i just had a blast writing it and i love steve and it really challenged me. pls let me know if u like it!! stay safe my loves xxx)

warnings - angst but also so much fluff your teeth will rot

You felt like the moon was mocking you.

It loomed overhead, round and full and beautiful, the colour of purity and innocence, a beacon of light contrasting against the ink coloured sky. Your face was red hot, streaked with tears that dripped down your nose and collarbone and into your shirt, staining you with sadness that you could feel clawing under your skin.

You were sat on the Byers’ front porch, the sneakers you had once kept so pristinely clean were now caked in mud, your socks soaked through. You felt numb, you ached for something; a familiar lash of anger or heartache, anything to make you feel human again, but you just felt numb.

You could hear clattering from inside the house, low murmurs of voices and whispers tangling together, but you blocked them out like it was just white noise. The steady hum of those you loved and trusted brought some comfort, but that was instantly replaced by longing for the one person who deserved to be there, the person who deserved to still be alive.

You had been ecstatically high on adrenaline, you were terrified but vivacious as you helped bundle your boyfriend and the kids into Hoppers’ car as he raced past the Laboratory’s gates. You remembered the feeling of Steve’s hands around your waist as he pushed you into the back, flustered and protective, determined to get you away from any danger.

You should have said something.

You knew something was wrong, but you kept quiet. The air in the car was thick and dense like smoke, and Hopper was covered in crimson coloured splotches, you noticed the way he didn’t look at you, instead keeping his eyes focused on the road ahead. You should have said something, should have asked where your Uncle was, should have demanded an answer, but instead you pushed those thoughts away and watched the road through the windshield until your vision went blurry, Steve’s thumb soothingly rubbing over the top of your hand.

You knew he felt it too.

It was only when you reached the driveway of the Byers bungalow, feet moving on autopilot, tearing through the front door and seeing Joyce waiting for you, tears running down her face as she pulled you into her chest, did you realise the immensity of the situation. You let out a wail that could rival a demogorgon, sinking down into the coarse fabric of her hospital gown, her hands clambering across your frame, desperate to offer any comfort she could.

Steve was beside you in an instant, gripping your elbows to stop you falling onto your knees and onto the shag carpet, cradling you into him like a child. He felt so helpless, not knowing how to ease your pain, words getting stuck in his throat like cotton balls as he watched the girl he loved shatter into pieces. One look at his familiar face contorted in torment and it set you off again, coughing and spluttering like you were drowning in your tears. You pushed the consolatory hands off of you harder than you had intended, feeling suffocated and in desperate need of some form of relief. You were no good to anybody like this, you needed to wallow in your grief alone, Joyce had bigger problems and you refused to drag her down under with you.

You stumbled towards the front door, murmuring “I need some air.” You sank into the darkness like it was an old friend, wrapping your arms around yourself as your head throbbed and pulsed. You let the cold air hit your bare skin and fell to the ground, knees to your chest and silent screams leaving your throat.

Steve ran forward to be by your side, but Hopper pulled him back by the hood of his jacket, a large hand consoling your distraught boyfriend, “Let her go kid, give her a minute.”

He gave you five.

Watching the hands tick away meticulously on the clock above the fridge, he flexed his fingers and allowed the slow and steady noises to keep him grounded. He loathed the idea that you were outside alone, beautiful face covered in tears, heartbroken and shattered. Not only that but the knowledge that those things could be looming in the woods waiting to sink their teeth into you was driving him mad with paranoia. The only thing stopping him from pulling you inside where he could safely watch you was the unwavering concern that not letting you grieve would do more harm than good, so he settled for watching you through the window, hands clamped around his trusty bat - just in case.

————————————————————

You were sure you had run out of tears. Exhausted and dehydrated, you buried your head in the palm of your hands, desperate to stop the mind numbing pain at the back of your skull. The trees rustled gently, olive coloured leaves glinting under the stars. You wondered what could be lurking inside of the forest, but you were too drained to care.

You heard the door creak behind you, but relaxed at the familiar weight of Cortez’s against the soft wood.

“Hey.” His voice was soft, almost timid. Sounding so foreign coming from his mouth, so cautious and kind that it almost made you start crying all over again. He paused momentarily, before inhaling and sitting down beside you, his long legs awkwardly bent, his back starting to ache, but he couldn’t care less. You both sat in a comfortable silence for a minute, unsure how to break down the barrier that was forming between you. Your hazy eyes lingered on the T-shirt’s and sweaters dangling from the Boyce’s washing line, sleeves swaying with the movement of the wind, almost as if there was an invisible person dancing inside.

Steve was the first to break the silence. He usually was, his quick wit and smooth demeanour had been one of the reasons you had fallen for him in the first place, the only person you had ever met that could make you melt into a puddle and then cry with laughter with just a few sentences.

“How you holding up?” He faltered, picking angrily at a loose thread hanging from his denim jeans. “That was a stupid question, I’m sorry.”

You didn’t trust yourself to form words just yet, but you tilted your head as much as you could muster, communicating with your boyfriend in that nauseating way that only the both of you understood, except this time it felt sour instead of sickeningly sweet.

You crunched a stray leaf under your shoe, mulling over the sound as it tore under your heel. “It doesn’t feel real.” You muttered finally, biting your lower lip with your front teeth, letting the pain stop your tears. “I keep expecting to see his face, his stupid goofy grin.” You smiled gently, “I keep waiting for him to turn up and say it’s all a prank, but I know he won’t, he’s too kind for that.”

“He was the nicest person I’ve ever met.” Steve said truthfully, “He was a good guy.”

Was. Three words that swam around your head and tangled your stomach into knots and you choked on the thickness in your throat. The strangled groan was so heartbreaking that Steve wanted to tear apart the things that did this to you with his bare hands, but instead he pulled you closer with them, clasping you against his chest.

He let you cry, he let you ruin his t-shirt and cover him in your mascara and wet, hot tears. He would let you bawl into everything he owned, even his prized The Clash shirt or limited edition Charlies Angels sweater that was buried in the back of his wardrobe - he would give it all to you, to stain and rip and ruin, if it meant you had at least one moment of solace.

Under the beautiful navy sky littered with stars, Steve sighed, wishing he knew what to say. He wished that he was as articulate as Nancy, or as strong as Hopper, he’d even take being as soft spoken as Jonathon, if he knew it would make you feel better. But you hadn’t fallen in love with any of them, you had fallen in love with him and he was going to do everything in his power to try and make his girl hurt a little less. So he tried to distract you.

“Do you remember our first date?” He said, breaking the silence, his eyes focusing on the branches of a tree swaying in the distance.

He heard you sniffle, felt the rise of your head under the palm of his hands. If you were surprised by his question you didn’t show it. “How could I forget?”

He smiled, thinking back to the day, over two years ago. If he thought hard enough he could almost relive the gut twisting anxiety and the sweat pooling on the nape of his neck as he pulled up to your house. The two of you had been friends forever, bound since the day you both shared peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in the playhouse in kindergarten. But you both started naturally drifting apart around the end of middle school, settling onto different paths as you grew up, only really seeing each other in the hallways or at the back of the school bus.

By the time you both entered high school, Steve was completely swept up with basketball and his newfound popularity, and you were settling into your own friendships and trying to stay on top of your grades. You rarely saw one another, but by chance the two of you were paired as lab partners one semester in sophomore year, and soon science became his favourite subject. Seeing you became the highlight of his day, better than scoring a goal in basketball or cutting class with Tommy and Carol. It was as if no time had passed between the two of you, the conversation so easy and genuine, and he made it a personal challenge to have you in stitches by the time the bell rang.

He fell hard, and fast. He had always thought you were beautiful, even when you were just kids and you wore your hair in two braids and seemed to always be covered in glitter. There was just something about you, an ease and a lightness that you carried, something about your smile and sound of your laugh that had him stumbling over his sentences like an idiot. He liked hearing about all of the things he had missed, like how you got grounded for sneaking out of your room to go and watch the new Star Wars, or how you crashed your dads car into a tree the very first hour after you got your license.

It wasn’t long before he realised that his day didn’t feel complete unless he had spoken to you. He started noticing how every game he searched for your face in the bleachers, the only person he really cared about seeing. His eyes would flicker over faces at parties, determined to find your sparkling eyes and kind smile, finding the hit of seeing you more electric than the cheap beer and fizzled out joints being passed around him.

He was nervous. He didn’t get nervous - he was Steve Harrington for Christ’s sake, but somehow you had managed to turn his whole world on its axis. He tried to live his life with as little regrets as possible; but in the quiet of his bedroom, with the moonlight casting shadows across his walls, he couldn’t help but feel furious with himself. If he could go back in time and do everything all over again, he would make sure to hold onto you as tight as possible and stop the two of you drifting apart.

He wasn’t stupid, he knew you were a knockout. The kind of girl that would bring even the strongest of men to their knees, the kind of girl that lingered in his brain long after he had fallen asleep. He also knew that he wasn’t the only one who had been completely captivated by you. He had seen the way Mike Adams cornered you after the school assembly, laughing at something you said as you sat with a group of friends, an enamoured look in his eye. He saw the way Jacob Taylor tried his hardest to get as close to you as possible at a house party, dazed by the way you twirled your hair obliviously and smiled like white, hot sunshine.

He knew what they were going through, smitten and stupid and dopey and practically a puddle at your feet, because he felt exactly the same way.

He was going to ask you out to dinner and then the movies. He had an elaborate speech planned in his mind, one that he had practiced in the mirror repeatedly - not that he would ever admit it. He was nervous. So goddamn nervous of screwing up the one thing that he really fucking liked, of potentially ruining your friendship and making himself look like an ass for misreading the signals and making you uncomfortable that he almost talked himself out of it as he walked into the physics lab one rainy afternoon.

But when he saw you there, looking up at him. As sweet as cinnamon in your oversized lab coat and stupid goggles, lips slightly chewed and fingertips stained with charcoal, and he couldn’t stop himself from blurting:

“Doyouwanttogooutwithme?”

For a moment he wished he took photography class, so he could snap a picture of the blush on your cheeks, have a physical copy of your wide smile and the glint in your eyes; something to look at when he was trying to fall asleep.

“About time, Harrington.” You had said, and it had knocked all of the wind from him, and he had walked around with a big goofy grin for the entire rest of the day.

————-————————————————

“I remember being so goddamn nervous. I thought I was going to throw up.” He said now, his voice laced with humour, somehow always knowing how to diffuse any situation.

You curled up further into him, craving his stability and warmth, and you relaxed as you felt his palm rubbing comforting circles across your back.

He looked into the darkness, remembering the anxiety filling him as he waited for you on the street by your house. He remembered peering into the rear view mirror, fluffing the edges of his hair with his fingertips, twisting and pulling the strands until they sat where he wanted. He could feel his leg shaking, foot hovering above the gas as he struggled to keep his composure. He hadn’t even been this nervous when college scouts came to a game, and he seriously needed to stay cool before you opened the door and saw him.

“You brought me flowers.” You said quietly, and he looked down at you with a gentle smile, his heart clenching at the sadness in your voice.

He remembers standing in the grocery store, cursing and muttering under his breath, wondering what was more romantic: tulips or sunflowers.

He bought both.

He can remember holding them in his shaking hands as carefully as he could as he walked up the stone path to your house.

“I had to talk myself into ringing the doorbell.” He felt you scoff under him and he laughed,

“Seriously! I was terrified, more scared than I was tonight.”

Its a lie. Running through the junkyard and fighting off strange monsters had been exhilarating, but also the most terrifying experience of his life; especially when he knew that the kids and you were just metres away, hidden in the old bus. He really thought he was about to die when the demodog reared and snarled in his face, teeth gnashing at his throat, but in those moments all he could think about was protecting you.

It’s strange, he had never been so terrified to lose someone.

“And then Bob opened the door.” Your voice was heavy and thick, like you were swallowing honey and it snapped him out of his thoughts, reminding him of the reason you were both huddled outside.

Your parents worked ninety percent of the time, only really coming home to crawl into bed and then driving back to work six hours later. You were used to it though, falling into a somewhat stable routine of eating TV dinners and doing your homework to the sounds of Jeopardy! playing in the background. Despite the lonely nights and your parents distance, there was always one person who tried their absolute best to make you feel safe and secure. Your uncle, Bob Newby.

The goofy, gold hearted manager at RadioShack was always there for you, especially whenever your parents weren’t. He always made sure your refrigerator had something green inside, and would come over after work to sit and watch cheesy rom coms with you. He even installed new locks and security lights in the yard and on the porch, just to make you both feel better, even though it was Hawkins - and nothing ever happens there.

He was basically a surrogate dad and your best friend, and you weren’t even embarrassed to admit it. Some of the happiest nights of your life had been with him, like when you went to the midnight viewing of The Godfather and shared toffee popcorn and cherry twizzlers, or when he drove you to Lake Michigan for your birthday and you ate sandwiches next to the water.

So when he found out the captain of the basketball team had asked you out on a date, he was a little apprehensive.

“He really grilled me.” Steve muttered with a sad smile, it hurt him that one of the most poignant moments of his life was now to be covered in a thick, black cloud, and he could only imagine what you’re going through. “I thought he was going to pull out a shotgun.”

“Psh. It would have been a lightsaber.”

You remembered shovelling in cereal at the breakfast bar the morning of your date. Bob watching you over his steaming mug of coffee curiously.

“So… Any plans for today?”

You rolled your eyes and smiled fondly at your uncle. “Steve is taking me out. This is only like the billionth time I’ve told you.”

He nodded, “Right, Right. Steve. Steve.” He tested the name on his tongue. “And Steve is - the captain of the basketball team right?”

“Yep.” You said, through a mouthful of sugar. “Oh, and he’s the leader of this really tough biker gang, to get in you have to murder three kittens.”

You watched his eyebrows shoot to his hairline, and then slowly fall back to their original spot when he caught on to your teasing. He held up his hands in playful surrender, taking a swig of his drink and then placing his mug on the granite counter.

“I know I’m being a fusspot! But I’m just looking out for you.”

“I know, Bob! But I’ll be fine! We’re just going to catch a movie and then dinner.”

“Ok.” He sighed, turning to wash up the dishes left from the previous nights pig out fest, but his hands stilled before he could twist the faucet. “Wait! Nothing R rated - or too romantic, and tell him to knock it off if he tries that whole ‘I’m so tired, let me put my arm around you schtick!’”

“I’m ignoring you now!”

You remembered getting ready, picturing the soft blush hue of your summer dress, and the taste of your strawberry gloss on your lips. You remembered the heat of your curling iron as you meticulously styled your hair, checking your reflection as a way to distract from the minutes ticking by.

You knew the familiar feeling of sweaty palms and butterflies before a date, but that morning it was as if somebody had realised a kaleidoscope of monarchs and swallowtails inside of you. You were completely nauseous, but so excited, and you felt like you were floating on cloud nine, unable to believe that Steve Harrington - the boy you had been crushing on since first grade - wanted to take you out.

You were nervously touching up your makeup, widening your eyes and applying yet another coat of mascara, when you heard commotion downstairs - and the telltale sound of your date getting completely grilled. You practically flew to your feet, haphazardly tying your converse and grabbing your purse, hoping to save Steve from the clutches of your overprotective Uncle. You nearly slid down the carpet when you noticed the door was ajar, smiling widely at the sight of Steve clutching two bouquets, his hair perfectly coiffed and his sneakers white and gleaming.

“- No I’ve never been in an accident, Sir.” You heard Steve say, his voice carrying through the hallway.

“Hmm?” You heard Bob reply, “And what about alcohol? Do you drink it?

“Only eggnog at Christmas.” Steve replied with a grin, his lips falling down when Bob sent him a glare. “Ok, not in the mood for jokes.”

“Are you under the influence now?”

“What? No! Why would I… Wow.” He faltered when he noticed you at the top of the stairs, and for the first time his mind went totally blank, his brain short circuiting at the sight of you. He felt his mouth go dry and he struggled to say something, not wanting to look like any more of an idiot than he already was, but Bob got there first.

“You look great, sweetheart.” He said, voice brimming with pride.

You blushed a deep crimson, feeling awkward under both of their stares. “Thanks, Bob.”

As soon as you reached the floor you blinked up at the men watching you, raising a brow slowly when Steve didn’t move. “So are you ready?”

“Yep. Yes. Yep.” He said quickly, rummaging around his pockets for his keys, and then realising they were in his hands the whole time. “Lets go.”

“Be home before eleven!” You heard Bob yell, his words just carrying into the night before you managed to slam the front door shut.

After the initial awkward meeting at your door, and Bob shooting unconvincing daggers at Steve as he guided you towards his car, the rest of the date went smoothly. You had been out with boys before; middle school crushes that took you to the ice cream parlour in town, and letting your best friend rope you in for a double date with a boy you had never met - but nothing like this.

As the car lulled through the streets, any unease forming quickly uncoiled between the two of you, and it wasn’t long until you were both in stitches. It felt so natural and easy, and you found yourself wanting to know everything about the hazel haired man sitting next to you.

You ate at a diner just outside of town, because according to Steve: “they have the best strawberry milkshakes - ever. I swear they’re like crack.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it, Harrington.” You had said, shooting him a million dollar smile over your shoulder. He was glad that you walked in first, because it felt as though a bullet had soared through his gut.

——————————————————————-

“I remember the milkshakes.” You said. Steve looked down at you, curled up on his lap. He nodded at your words, thinking of summer days and winter nights snuggled up in your booth at the diner. You must have shared hundreds by now, drinking such an obscene amount of the sweet treat it was a surprise neither of you looked like a strawberry. You had ruined the fruit for him. He couldn’t take a bite from a strawberry without remembering the taste of your lips or the sound of your laugh, it was conditioned into him like he was one of Pavlov’s dogs. But he would be lying if he said he didn’t love it, strawberries had become his favourite fruit.

“I told you those milkshakes were great.”

“Yeah, you did.”

He could feel you wobbling under him, could feel the heart wrenching tremor of your body starting to shake with tears and he swore internally, trying his best to distract you again.

“And then we watched Ghostbusters.”

You let out a half hearted laugh. “And you almost shit yourself when you saw Slimer.”

“He popped up outta nowhere!”

“And then you spilt popcorn everywhere.”

“Yeah, that old lady was pissed.” He clicked his tongue at the memory, crumbs and melted butter flying everywhere, the entire row in front covered in his mess and glaring at you both, you laughing so hard into your sleeve you thought you might just pass out.

“And then I drove you home - way before curfew I might add - because I’m a gentleman.”

“And then you kissed me.”

“I think you’ll find you kissed me.”

“Ha.You wish.”

It felt good to hear the bite back in your voice, and it warmed him like a zap of electricity that his plan of distraction was working.

Besides, it was partly true - you had kissed him first.

That night as he pulled into your driveway, his gut felt like a huge boulder inside of him. There was nothing more that he wanted then to lean over the console and kiss you, but he was too goddamn nervous.

The date had gone so brilliantly, and he could feel himself, tripping, stumbling and falling completely head over heels for you, but he was so uncharacteristically anxious that it was kind of freaking him out. He was getting all worked up about things he had never thought of before, like his teeth clashing against yours, or accidentally knocking your heads together and giving you a mild concussion.

He left his car running, because he didn’t want you to be cold, (and the constant vibrations were good at hiding the tremor in his legs). It was fully black outside, the night sky a long stretch of navy and the stars were pretty but not nearly as pretty as the girl smiling at him in the passenger seat. Just as your eyes connected and he thought he was going to finally kiss you, the porch light turned on, a nice little reminder from Uncle Bob that he was still watching. You laughed exasperatedly and reached over, filling the distance between you as you tried to grab the strap of your handbag and Steve leant over to give you a hand with the sticky door, but instead your lips caught his and he froze in place, his eyes closed and his heart feeling like a jackhammer in his chest, all of his worries evaporating behind him like ocean spray, because suddenly everything felt right.

“Night, Harrington.” You had said smugly, leaving him in his car that suddenly smelt like cotton candy and coconut shampoo, and with an entire carnivals worth of fireworks erupting from his stomach.

————————————————————

“When I got inside he pretended he had just woken up.” You said now, your words coated with tears but laced with tenderness. “Tried to act like he wasn’t staring through the window watching us kiss.”

Steve tangled his fingers through your hair, anchoring the two of you together, hoping that the small action would give you at least some comfort. He mulled over all of the memories the two of you shared, picturing them shattered at his feet like shards of shimmering glass. He wasn’t sure how to comfort you and it hurt, the silence settling around you like thick, poisonous gas.

“What about our first anniversary? The first time we committed a felony.”

“It wasn’t a felony.”

“Yeah and I’m sure it wasn’t the first time either, you little criminal.”

He remembered when you went out to a much too fancy restaurant in the city. How angelic and beautiful you looked in a little sundress and heels, stealing the breath right out of his lungs whenever he looked at you. How even when he was out of his comfort zone you felt like home, always making him feel stable no matter where he was. He remembered those glances you stole at one another, tongue in cheek laughter and suppressed smiles at the strange place you were both in, the two of you sticking out amongst the older, richer and snootier couples like a sore thumb.

He remembered the glint in your eye and the look on your face, the one that had him completely wrapped around your little finger - (but really, you could look at him anyway and he was a complete goner). It was how you both stood up at the same time, grabbing your handbag and wallet and rushing through the sea of people, laughing loudly as he slipped his hand in yours and pulled you with him, dodging the doorman who was cursing loudly at the kids who had just dined and dashed, even though neither of you had had more than a mouthful of your overpriced starter.

“You are such a bad influence, (Y/L/N).” He had scolded, playfully pinching the inside of your thigh as you lay stretched out on a picnic blanket overlooking the forests on the edge of town. You swatted him away, and he felt his breath hitch at the sight of you, hair tousled and makeup slightly worn, so effortlessly beautiful beneath the headlights of his car.

“Oh, please Hargrove. You would be lost without me.”

He didn’t reply, because it was true.

Instead he leaned over your body, stealing a quick kiss and also a handful of fries from the drive thru bag next to you.

“Hey!” You whined, leaning up and swatting at him. “Those are mine!”

“Technically, technically,” He said, licking salt from his fingertips. “They were at the bottom of the bag, not in either of the cartons - so they were never really yours.”

You rolled your eyes, punching him softly in the gut and laughing as he collapsed on top of you. “You are such a dumbass.”

“Yeah, but I’m your dumbass.”

He ran his tongue over a canine, finding clarity in your eyes.“I can’t believe you’ve put up with me for a whole year.”

“Me neither, but the money your dad gives me to go out with you makes it worth it.”

His finger trailed along the bridge of your nose, his lips curling the same as the path his fingerprints followed. “Stupid.” It was a terrible comeback, but when you looked up up at him like that, all of his sentences spilt into a bowl of mismatched alphabet soup. He blinked down at you, feeling the way his heart hammered against his rib cage, engulfed in the terrifying feeling of being so in love with somebody. “Seriously though, this has - this has been the best year of my life.”

Your rosebud lips parted, showing him that dammed smile that would make him burn down the whole town if you asked him to. “Mine too.”

——————————————————————-

“Remember when I got a black eye because of you?” He murmured, glancing up at the stars that flickered above you both.

“Because of me?” You scoffed, halfheartedly. “Hardly.”

“Ok. Keep telling yourself that.”

There was once a time where he loved nothing more than spending Friday through Sunday completely wasted, waking up on somebodies couch, his mouth tasting like sour liquor and his clothes scattered across the floor - but not after he met you. He used to long for the high from downing tequila shots or jumping into the pool with hazy eyes, a burnt out joint being passed around friends, but soon he realised that nothing came close to the fever high he got from simply being around you.

He remembered sitting in the school parking lot on a Friday afternoon, listening to Tommy and Carol natter about how a group of seniors were going to break into the rec centre and get drunk, but there words were nothing but static as he looked for you among the familiar faces.

You had been officially dating for a few months, and much to Tommy’s dismay, it seemed as though neither of you had any intention of letting the other go. It stung the teenager when Steve started blowing him off to hang out with you, his usual alibi for wild parties leaving him high and dry. He was jealous of the way you managed to consume all of Steve’s attention, and the fact that since the two of you had gotten together, Steve was so much kinder to everyone, and didn’t want to join in with his juvenile antics. When you went to parties, he drank less and laughed more, and Tommy was left doing shots and keg stands alone.

More than anything though, Tommy was jealous that Steve had scored a girl like you, kind and soft and sweet, when he had trouble getting Carol to stay over longer than the time it took to drain a bottle of stolen wine. It made him feel envious and insecure, watching the way you kissed Steve in the hallways with rosebud lips and your eyes shone like diamonds under the gentle sun; when was a girl going to look at him like that?

“You coming tonight, Harrington?” He asked from the hood of Steve’s car, his legs dangling onto the asphalt.

“No.” Steve said, chewing on his fingernails. “Sorry man, I’m taking (Y/N) to the drive in.”

“Aww.” Carol preened, a solid supporter of your relationship. You hadn’t known her too well before you started seeing Steve and hadn’t expected to become so close to her, but now she was one of your best friends. Sure she could be a little vapid and a little rude, but she also made you laugh loudly and always helped you get ready for dates with Steve, and you really appreciated the way she let you into the inner circle. “That’s so sweet. You guys are too cute.”

Tommy ignored her. He could already feel himself boiling over.

“Cmon Harrington, it’s one night. It’s tradition.”

“No it isn’t.”

He exhaled loudly. “Well it should be.”

“I’m good, man. And besides, we’re still going to see the Bulls play on Saturday, right?”

“I guess.”

Silence settled around them like cigarette ash. Tommy, growing more irate by the second, toyed with the collar of his shirt and curled and uncurled his fingers. He wasn’t quite sure why he was pissed - as Steve’s best friend he should have been pleased with how love struck and happy he was, and it wasn’t as though he never saw Steve anymore, or that you had split up the group or anything - but he was still annoyed, and that’s why he said it.

“God, I hope she’s a better fuck than she looks. I mean, she must be if she’s got you this whipped.”

It took a moment for Steve to process what he had said, swallowing his friends words like they were barbed wire, his throat filling with blood.

“What the fuck did you say?”

“Just what everybody else is thinking.” It wasn’t what everybody thought, but Tommy thrived off of mob mentality, and the small crowd watching in the parking lot was enough to spike his adrenaline.

“Tommy.” Carol warned, her voice thick and heavy, eyeing him from over the roof of the car.

“What did you say about her?” Steve asked, his face turning crimson, the shade matching the colour coating his pupils.

Tommy didn’t hold back, his hands firmly grasping his shovel, ready to dig himself deeper. “Jesus. Look at you! Look what she’s turned you into. She’s a bitch, and so are you.” He gestured wildly with his hands, the severity of what he had said was slowly sinking in, but he was stupid enough to stand by it for the time being.

Steve was livid. His body rattling like he had been struck by lightning. He knew he wasn’t some fucking white knight who had to defend your honour, but there was no way in hell he was going to let some fucking prick about you like that.

“And…you know what? The both of you can - ”

“Fuck you.” Steve brought his fingers to a fist and clocked him right in the nose, a sickening thwack echoing around the school. Tommy recoiled backwards, almost falling through the windshield. He managed to regain his balance at the last second, and his face was contorted with both pain and disbelief.

“What the fuck man?” Tommy seethed, spitting out a wad of blood and lunging at Steve, managing to grab him by his collar and slam him onto the asphalt, their jeans ripping across the gravel.

The two of them rolled around, a deadly mix of closed knuckles and crisp white sneakers. A small crowd had gathered around the two of them, the air thick with the metallic tang of blood and rich with stories to be shared around the party that night. They both managed to get a couple good hits in, Steve just managing to get the upper hand before the school janitor started calling in for backup.

You had just left World Civ, your textbooks still cradled in your arms and your best friend laughing in your ear as you made your way out of the school and towards the parking lot.

“Yeah, I swear! She…” Your best friends voice trailed off as she noticed a blur of movement in the distance, her ears picking up like a bloodhounds. “Oh my God. I wonder what’s going on.”

You looked up shrugging your shoulders, expecting to see some of the wrestling team or soccer players roughhousing like they usually did, but your blood turned cold when your eyes focused fully and you caught sight of that damn perfect hair.

“Holy shit. Steve!”

If only your phys ed teacher could have witnessed the speed you ran across the car park; dust picking up with your shoes as you bolted towards your boyfriend. You managed to break through the inner circle crowding around them, the teenagers egging on Tommy and Steve as they scrambled towards one another, the sound of elbows and knees and fingernails clashing all around you.

“Hey. Hey! That’s enough!”

Poor Mr Springer tried his best to separate the two of them, wrapping his arms around Tommy’s waist and trying to tear them apart as they continued scrapping like junkyard dogs.

Your mouth was agape as a couple of boys helped break the two of them up, your eyes widening at the scarlet red blood staining the ground and the deep purple bruises already starting to show. You managed to catch Steve’s line of sight, his eyes widening at the sight of you, his face starting to swell.

“Steve? What the fuck!”

“Oh! Hey, babe? How did your pop quiz go?” He asked, throwing you a dazzling smile as though everything was right in the world.

Despite everything, you bit back a laugh, kneeling down to wrap your hands around him. “You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington.” You said, cradling the now puffy side of his face, a quarter sized apricot indent growing under his eye.

He winked at you as he was pulled away and dragged to the principal. He knew he was in for a months worth of Saturday detentions, but he couldn’t care less. He avoided the death glare his former best friend was giving him, licking the blood pooling across his split lip.

If he had to chose between you or Tommy, or choose between nights in with you or nights out with the rest of the seniors - hell, if he had to choose between basketball and you, it would be you, every time.

Point blank, period.

———————————————————-

There was a chill in the air, swallowing the both of you whole. Steve could feel his jeans dampening, your tears cascading down your face and onto his denim. He could feel eyes on the back of neck, and knew without turning around that Dustin and the rest of the kids were watching from the kitchen window, waiting to jump out and rescue you both if something crawled out from the bushes.

He didn’t have much time left. Soon he would have to bring you back inside, away from the vulnerability of the night and into the embrace of those you had grown so close to. He thinks back with a grimace, to the fight you had over your new routine.

Bob and Joyce dating came as a shock to everyone involved, especially Steve. Not so much that Bob had found companionship with the pretty single mother, but more so that it meant you were spending more time at their house - with Jonathon.

He wasn’t jealous.

He wasn’t.

No matter how many times you rolled your eyes and teased him - he wasn’t jealous.

He just didn’t like the idea of you sat next to him at movie nights, laughing with him during family board games, eating breakfast in the chair beside him, driving to school together and singing along to the stupid obscure bands that Jonathon liked.

Ok maybe he was a little jealous. Sue him.

He’d spent the night at your place, under the guise of helping you with your calculus homework, even though you had a higher grade than him, and he watched with sleepy eyes as you rummaged around your desk in the morning.

“What?” He mumbled under the slowly rising sun, half of his face still buried in your pillow. “What? Where? Where are you going?”

You rifled through your handbag and examined the contents, glancing at him over your shoulder. “Bob’s taking everyone out for lunch - well it should have been breakfast but someone - ” you emphasised with a playful glare, “Is making me late.”

“Whose going?”

“Everyone.”

“Everyone?”

“You know. Me, Joyce, Jon and Will.”

Jon.

“You didn’t tell me Jonathon was going.” He’s not sure if it’s true. He remembers fragments of you telling him your plans for the weekend, but he also remembers your words shattering before they reached his brain, because of that little strappy top you were wearing and the blackberry colour of your lipstick.

“What?” You asked distractedly, untangling your headphones from your Walkman. “I did.”

“No.” He clicked his jaw, a sign of his annoyance. “You just said Bob was taking you out.”

“With everyone - everyone includes Jonathon.”

“Right.” He’s pissed. His anger isn’t directed at you, more so the floppy haired teenager you’ll be sharing pancakes with, even though it’s not exactly his fault either. “Since when did you guys become The Brady Brunch?”

You let out a dry laugh, oblivious to the fact your boyfriend was getting more agitated by the second.

Did you really have to wear that skirt? He thought. Why did it have to be the short little denim one covered in cherries that made you look so damn good?

“You know how much Joyce loves her kids, Bob just wants to make an effort.”

“Yeah but why do you have to go?”

You shrugged, applying a swipe of lipgloss and tightening your cardigan in an effort to hide the hickeys blossoming under your collarbones. “He invited me, said it’s a family thing.”

“It’s not as though you’re really family though is it?”

He regretted it the moment the syllables left his mouth, but he was too wound up to think before he spoke. He cringed at the way you lost his gaze in the mirror, really fucking hating himself when he saw the crimson blush rise from your throat and onto your cheeks, and the sheen coating your eyes.

“I should go.”

You didn’t hesitate, grabbing your belongings and darting down the stairs. Family had always been a sore subject for you, and he loathed himself for striking you in the one place that it really fucking hurt.

“Wait.. Baby I -” He chased after you, but you were too fast. He wished that you would stay and argue with him, he’d let you scream and yell and shout at him, because he deserved it and he wanted to let you know he was sorry for being a prick, but you were already out of the door.

“Just up when you leave.” Were the last things you said, disappearing into your car.

He apologised with your favourite chocolates and red roses and an attempt to make you dinner. You couldn’t stay upset with him and his sheepish grin even when half of your kitchen was covered in tomato sauce and your moms pan was coated in burnt pasta.

The boy could screw up, but he always knew how to make up for it.

He trusted you, and loved you, and apologised for - in your words, ‘being a class A jackass’ - and even put away his pride long enough to tell you that, Ok, fine, maybe he was a tiny bit jealous of Jonathon and the bond growing between you.

That night as you curled up on your living room floor amongst an abundance of pillows and crocheted throws, you reassured him that you were in love with him and only him, even when he drove you up the wall. He fell asleep a little easier that night, his girl happy and safe in his arms, your words calming the storm that was once brewing in his mind.

…And maybe Jonathon wasn’t that bad.

———————————————————-

The light of the moon was harsh, almost like the street lamps that flickered in the distance. Steve could feel you moving underneath him, and his palms were starting to dampen, the reality of the evening finally sinking in.

Bob was dead.

As though the same thought had passed through you, you spoke, your voice strained and quiet. “I can’t believe he’s gone.”

“I know.”

Your voice cracked like thin ice. “He didn’t deserve to die. He didn’t… He.” You choked on your words, and Steve pulled you into him firmly, as if to stop you from falling apart.

“I’m so sorry, baby.”

You sniffled, a sob tearing through your lungs and clawing through your throat, and you tried desperately to not think about your poor uncles lifeless body. “What am I going to do without him?”

You weren’t looking for an answer, but Steve gave you one.

“It’ll be me and you, it’ll be us. Forever.”

His future was uncertain. He was under a mountain of pressure from his teachers and coaches and guidance counsellors to get his head down and decide about college and scholarships and what he was going to do with his life.

He even took one of those quizzes that was supposed to help him figure his shit out, but when he sat there, pencil in hand and he read the words - where do you see yourself in five years? The only thing he could think of, was you.

He thought of you, so smart and pretty, your future just as undecided as his, but still by his side. He could see road trips and night drives and long distance calls, he could see morning laughter and monumental arguments and make ups, in the distance he could even see a house with a white picket fence and a big dog and a few kids who looked like a mixture of the both of you.

It seemed so simple. So much more simple than applying for college or an internship, because he knew that whatever he did, he wanted it with you.

And then this crazy fucking year happened, and things weren’t so simple anymore. Soon he was best friends with a bunch of pre teens and fighting off big scary fucking monsters and Billy Hargrove. Soon his small world of basketball and strawberry milkshakes and tongue kisses was filled with danger, and he needed to keep you safe.

“I miss him.”

“I know.” He says honestly. “I miss him too.”

He remembered the last conversation he had with Bob. It was before they found Hopper underground, and Bob was getting ready to leave and see Joyce and Will. You were in your room, finishing off the last of your homework, and Steve was heading downstairs to finish off the last of the pizza. He had just grabbed a Coke and a slice of pepperoni, when he saw Bob rummaging through the cupboard in the hall.

“Hey,” Steve said, waving the hand with the soda in it. “I heard about Will. Is he alright?”

Bob gave a kind nod. “Yeah.” He hesitated. “Well, actually, I’m not sure. I’m uh - I’m looking for my old board games for him to play with.”

Steve smiled, because that was exactly the thing Bob would do. “Well, give him my best.”

They exchanged pleasantries, and Steve spun his heel to rejoin you upstairs, taking a big bite of melted cheese as he walked, before Bob spoke aloud once again.

“There’s something strange going on in this town.”

Steve remembered the year before, standing in Jonathan’s living room, twinkling Christmas lights draped on the wall and a baseball bat in his hands. He remembered Barb and Will, and the body from the quarry.

“Yeah.”

Bob exhaled, moving so that he was standing face to face with the teenager. “You make sure nothing happens to her, alright? You know she’s - you know she’s my little girl.”

Steve straightened, his voice solid. “I would never let anything happen to her.”

“I know. You’re a good guy, Harrington.”

He doesn’t know if he agrees, but he knows that for you, he will be.

“Take care of her.”

“Always.”

And they had partied ways: Steve upstairs, where he pulled you into his arms and made you laugh as he planted wet kisses on your face. And Bob to the Byers house to find a map spanning the length of the walls, and then the hospital, and then ultimately, to his death.

———————————————————-

The dark felt much more menacing now, shadows moving like long fingernails and jagged claws around you. He knew that he had to get you inside. He knew that the others would be making plans and setting traps and he knew how much safer you would be there. His heart was shattered after the small sobs leaving your body, your chest deflating like a burst balloon. He also knew that the best people to comfort you would be inside, Joyce with her motherly love, Dustin with his sweet, silly nature, and even Jonathon who truly loved you like a sibling.

“Cmon, lets get you inside.”

He wrapped his hands around you and helped lift you up, steadying you as you swayed on shaky legs. He cradled you into him, feeling the warmth of your breath and tears against his throat, and he inhaled, preparing himself and readying himself, telling him to be strong, for you.

He wrapped a free hand around the door handle, waiting to twist. He took one final look at the menacing bushes and trees surrounding you both, listening for a rustle from the branches.

He doesn’t know what will happen next. But he does know, that whatever it is, you’ll face it, together.

#steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #stranger things imagines #steve harrington oneshot #stranger things oneshot #\#strangerthings #stranger things headcanon #steve harrington headcanon

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hypnoshatesme · 4 years

Text

Do you like Science? Because I’ve got my ion you

Cecil couldn’t stop fidgeting. He had gone through his entire wardrobe trying to decide on the perfect outfit for this occasion and now he was reconsidering if green had been a good idea after all as he fixed the slightest wrinkles in the sleeve of his tunic, only to wrinkle the other sleeve in the process. Cecil was nervous. This wasn’t sitting on Carlos’ car and watching the lights above Arby's in silence. This was a date. And it had been a long time since Cecil had been on a date. And he had never been on a date with somebody as perfect as Carlos.

He was overthinking again. Cecil tried to remind himself to breathe. It would be fine. It would be like that night, but with talking and drinking and eating. It would be just as nice. It would be better, even, lacking the shadow of (presumed) death that had hung over them the night on the hood of Carlos’ car. Cecil just needed to keep calm and conversation would come naturally. He could do it. Talking is what he did, after all.

“Cecil!”, Carlos' caramel voice called out as he speedwalked up to Gino's, in front of which Cecil was waiting.

The voice alone shattered Cecil’s feeble calm, his heart pounding nearly painfully as he looked up to meet the scientist. He hadn't seen Carlos since the night at the Arby's, where he had looked tired, shaken, dirty and bloody, but still like the most beautiful thing on earth. Now, in his pristine white lab coat, his glossy locks neatly combed with only a few stray strands falling into his forehead, stuck to his beautiful skin that looked like it'd be so very smooth to the touch. He was breathtaking. The very definition of perfection. Cecil’s mouth went dry.

"I’m so sorry I made you wait, the samples at the lab tried to escape and it took a moment to restrain them…", Carlos continued as he came to a stop in front of Cecil.

Cecil tried very, very hard not to gawk, to give any sort of answer, but Carlos flashed him an apologetic grin and Cecil nearly choked on his words. He tried again after an awkward cough, "O-Oh, don't worry, Carlos. I haven't been waiting too long.", he managed a tad quicker than normal.

Carlos grinned and nodded towards the door, "Let's not wait any longer, then." They both walked into the restaurant, tentatively locking arms on their way.

There was silence between them after they ordered and Cecil was trying to remember how to form words. He was known for babbling when nervous, a waterfall of words, pointless anecdotes and the like leaving his mouth to fill in any uncomfortable - and sometimes comfortable - silence. That wasn't happening today. He kept getting distracted by Carlos' fingers running through his gorgeous locks, by his hands rearranging the cutlery in front of him, eyes scanning the room occasionally. Had those always been so beautifully chocolate brown? When they fell on Cecil, Carlos’ perfect lips pulled up into a shy smile and Cecil forgot how to speak all over again, blushing deeply and scrambling to hide his embarrassment behind his drink, that thankfully had arrived quickly.

“I’ve been reading a book on Helium and struggling with putting it down.”, Carlos finally said, and Cecil was too busy trying to keep it together to notice the slight waver in the scientist's voice. He was too busy to even ask if said book was approved by City Council.

But he did notice the tone. It was the kind of tone used for jokes, one followed by an expectant silence and Cecil laughed before even registering the fact that he hadn't understood what exactly the joke was. He was too eager to finally know what to do and his body went on autopilot and then he was panicking again because he couldn't tell how much laughter was the correct amount to whatever Carlos had said. When he finally got himself to look up at him, though, the sight took his breath away. Carlos was smiling, warm and...relieved? Cecil wondered, but only for a fracture of a second, before he noticed the way the scientist's eyes crinkled and forgot all about the relief. Carlos' eyes were shining, his whole face was, illuminated by that perfect smile showing his perfect teeth. Cecil thought he might faint if he didn't look away but he also wanted to remember this expression forever, burn it into his memory - literally, if necessary.

Carlos started to talk about his experiments, then, and when their food arrived a couple minutes later Cecil had been swept into the conversation, nervousness melting a little with every smile Carlos gave him. He took a more passive role, nodding and inquiring further about the science Carlos was excitedly talking about. Carlos seemed to light up with every question or interested comment Cecil made, occasionally making another pun or joke Cecil usually didn’t understand, but laughed anyways, making Carlos chuckle on more than one occasion. It was the most beautiful sound Cecil ever heard.

Back at home after the date Cecil was still grinning, felt light and, if possible, more in love than before. It had been the most perfect date and he already felt giddy about the next one. When Carlos asked him as they were walking to the parking lot, Cecil’s answer had come out as a squeek, delighted and surprised that Carlos would want to meet him again. The scientist seemed to have enjoyed it, but having the confirmation made Cecil’s heart flutter all over again. And then of course, the kiss. Cecil hadn't seen it coming, hadn't expected it, and he was proud he managed to not drive into anything on his way home, with the knowledge that Carlos, beautiful, perfect Carlos, had actually kissed him. The small voice at the back of his head telling him that he had basically lied to Carlos by laughing without understanding was barely audible. Not with the lingering memory of Carlos' lips on his.

They were sitting on Carlos’ couch after dinner. Cecil had intended to take Carlos out for their third date, but all restaurants had been struggling with their food turning into a gelatinous, blue goo. Cecil had been quite excited to try something new, but Carlos had not liked the idea and had invited Cecil over to dine at his place instead. The food had been delicious and Cecil had been thoroughly satisfied at the blush dusting Carlos’ cheeks as he kept complimenting his cooking. “It’s adequate at best, really, Cecil.”, he kept mumbling. Maybe it was adequate at best, Cecil wasn’t much of a cook himself, but that certainly didn’t stop him from making sure Carlos knew how much he had enjoyed it. The fact that Carlos looked adorable when flustered didn’t give much incentive to stop.

They had moved to the couch after cleaning up and Carlos found that the avalanche of compliments falling from Cecil's lips was quite effectively stopped with a kiss. Cecil looked dazed when they pulled apart again, and Carlos couldn't help but try to bring him back with a particularly bad joke. He planted a kiss underneath Cecil’s ear, whispering, "I wish I were adenine, so I could be paired up with U.".

Cecil did snap out of his haze, blinking for a moment in confusion. When he spoke there was no trace of laughter in his voice: “Carlos..”, he said instead, voice uncertain.

Carlos felt his pulse pick up in panic, “Ah, nevermind, that one was really bad.”, he said too quickly, leaning away from Cecil and chuckling nervously. He could feel his face heat up.

Cecil’s face fell seeing how his reaction had made the scientist uncomfortable, “No, Carlos, t-that’s not...I...I don’t understand your jokes.”, Cecil said quickly, voice lowering to a murmur by the end of the sentence.

Carlos looked at him, blinking, “Oh well, I...I guess that might be a bit difficult for somebody who isn’t as familiar with science, I-”

“No, no, no, Carlos, I...I never understood them.”, Cecil quickly added, face flushing deeply. He stumbled over his words as he continued, voice getting higher in his rising panic, “I-I just thought you sounded like- you were clearly waiting for some sort of reaction and your tone made me assume you probably had said something funny so I laughed and you looked so very happy so I just...continued doing so and I was afraid to tell you that I didn’t understand the jokes. I didn’t want you to think I’m dumb or something but I also didn’t want to make you mad when you eventually found out I’ve been lying to you and-”

“Cecil!”, Carlos tried again since his first call was drowned in Cecil’s stressed out rambling.

Cecil looked up, tentatively meeting Carlos’ eyes. Cecil’s eyes were wide, guilt and embarrassment discernable in every of his features. Carlos couldn’t keep in the laughter that had been bubbling in his chest as Cecil was rambling anymore, not with Cecil’s grave expression in this thoroughly ridiculous situation, and so he snorted out a laugh.

Cecil’s expression morphed into one of confusion and uncertainty, and Carlos tried to calm himself down. He took Cecil’s hands and squeezed them, stopping their slight shaking and catching his breath, as he looked at Cecil’s shocked face.

Carlos smiled reassuringly, “Cecil, I love you so very much.”

Cecil froze, before his face lit up, “I...I love you, too!”, his voice went soft at the edges, dreamy. However, doubt made its way back into his eyes quickly, “You...aren’t mad?”, he asked, voice unsteady.

Carlos chuckled, shaking his head. He considered telling Cecil that he could never be mad at him, but opted for something else instead, “Sweet Cecil, if anything I’m thankful.” Cecil cocked his head to the side, eyebrows raising in confusion and Carlos squeezed his hands again, if only to keep himself from pulling the other man into a kiss right then and there. He definitley couldn't be mad at the radio host, not when he was giving him an expression like this.

Carlos took a deep breath before trying to explain, “I was so nervous that night and I had carefully planned out all the things I could talk about but then when I actually was sitting across from you I couldn’t remember any of it and I was starting to sweat from nervousness and when I finally managed to get myself together enough to say something that stupid joke came out and I…”, Carlos chucked a little at the memory, “I was half expecting you to just get up and leave after that.”, Carlos had been terrified, panicking the moment he closed his mouth. It seemed silly now.

Carlos smiled at Cecil, now, “But you didn’t, you didn’t even roll your eyes, you just laughed and that just...put me at ease and suddenly there was no problem in just talking normally. In that moment, I was so very happy I made you laugh, it gave me the confidence to go on and try to enjoy the evening. And I did. Did you?”

Cecil, whose eyes had gone wide with awe, nodded enthusiastically. Carlos finally breached the gap and pressed his lips to Cecil’s. Cecil returned the kiss eagerly, hands coming up to play with Carlos’ hair, pulling the scientist closer. Carlos hummed contently into the kiss, cupping Cecil´s cheek.

When they had to pull apart for air, both were chuckling at the whole situation, at the idea that the other had been just as nervous that evening. Carlos leaned his head against Cecil’s shoulder, sighing happily. Cecil was still playing with the tips of his hair, his other hand coming to rest in his lab. Carlos took that hand, caressing the smooth skin with his thumb. The sigh from Cecil was one of utter bliss as he buried his nose in Carlos’ hair. Cecil felt light, his heart fluttering and happy and he still couldn’t quite wrap his head around this, the fact that he was holding his Carlos and that everything was okay and Carlos seemed content.

Cecil thought he might burst with love. He hoped he wouldn’t, it would make quite the mess of Carlos’ neat living room and he was sure that would not be appreciated. Also, it would be much harder to curl that wonderful hair around his fingers when his fingers were just a splash of blood and bone on the carpet. Cecil pressed his lips to Carlos’ head, before pulling away slightly so that he knew Carlos could hear him, “Will you explain the jokes to me? I want to try and understand them...”

“Oh, honey, if I did that you would realise just how bad they are. You would probably miss not understanding them…”, Carlos mumbled as an answer, shifting to look at Cecil's face.

“Mhm, but I want to know for future ones! I want to be able to react genuinely…”, Cecil smiled, pressing a kiss to Carlos' forehead.

Carlos laughed, that wonderful sound Cecil had been afraid he’d never hear again after telling him he'd been lying to him, “Cecil, you shouldn’t encourage my awful puns and jokes.”

Cecil looked into Carlos' beautiful, chocolate eyes, his own twinkling with mischief, “I think I just finished doing exactly that.”, he grinned, and Carlos couldn’t help but grin back.

Cecil leaned down, planting a kiss on Carlos’ beautiful nose. Carlos huffed out a little laugh before pulling Cecil into another kiss. Carlos felt light. This was perfection.

#welcome to night vale #wtnv #Cecilos #cecil palmer #carlos the scientist #fluff #awkwardness #cute #they're such dorks #painful puns #wtnv fanfic

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rattusrattus3 · 4 years

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hmm psychological question sorta! sometimes i think I disassociate (maybe?) and it feels like life is a dream. like im walking through clouds to get to the top of a mountain, where it's foggy and confusing. and nothing feels real? do you ever feel like that? feel free not to answer if you don't wanna :)

huh! that sounds like an intersting and possibly unsettling experience! i would ask yourself when this feeling comes up- and if it is interfering with ur life? and if it is interfering (if it is uncomfrotable or unsettling or scary) i would totally reccomend talking to a professional! I think everyone day dreams to some extent, and we all can zone out, but consistent/repeated dissociation in every day situations could definitaly be something you wanna talk 2 a professional abt

i definitaly relate to the “nothing feels real” feeling, but its mostly like ... I don't know how 2 describe, definitaly v disconeccted from my body but when i have felt “dissociative” it has been a semi-intentional zoning out of a painful moment/trauma, (and it makes sense and i am kinda happy my brain has protectd me in that way before)

as well as in high pressire situations, like whenever i had to give presentations in university in front of the class i would just write all my speech down and go up and do it completely not “present” and then i would sit down and like snap back into my body and concioussness and literally it felt like i had blacked out during the presentation - like i could not remember what i actually said or if it went good or bad or what the questions were, its like an autopilot, (and im fine w that its fine)

or when im driving and i zone out and then i realize i am at my location and i did not know what happened during the drive really (but like i didnt crash or run red lights tis just like a lil ... dissociative sec) (and i dont stress about this one cause its not like that often and i think everyone gets that sometiems)

so every time ive had the experience its been in understandable/normal ish circumstances and ive been able to go on w my life more or less the same, but i havent talked 2 a professional about this thing, unless u count talking about not feeling “present” in intense or vulnerable situatuons) i hope u figure it out, i know youre not alone in those feelings, i always reccomend Mental Pod (u can use their search box to find stuff about dissociation, or use the forum to chat with kind and understanding fellow mentally ill people who may have expeirence in what you are feeling!) i love you and i hope u stay safe! whatever ur feeling, i promise someone has felt it before! i love you! be kind to urself <3

#ask #asks #anon #dissociation #trauma mention #im not a doctor or a profssional im 22 #just a reminder #but i hope u find help and support and better understanding of urself!#u deserve to be comfortable in ur brain ur the only one who has to listen to it all day #Anonymous

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brittle-bone-gabe · 4 years

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The Forgotten: Chapter Four- But What If?

Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight, Chapter Nine, Chapter Ten, Chapter Eleven, Chapter Twelve, Chapter Thirteen, Chapter Fourteen, Chapter Fifteen, Chapter Sixteen, Chapter Seventeen, Chapter Eighteen, Chapter Nineteen, Chapter Twenty, Epilogue

Summary: Barry Berkman couldn’t remember much of his childhood; he knew he used to live in Derry, Maine, but that was about it, besides being taken by his “Uncle Fuches” at age 16 to move to Cleveland, Ohio. Eddie Kaspbrak moved from Derry, Maine to LA, becoming a police officer, surprisingly enough. Normally things were quiet for the most part, besides the occasional drug busts, but it’s when someone named Barry Block enters his line of sight as a possible suspect for the recent string of murders he has to push the feeling of remembrance to investigate. Pairing: Adult Reddie (Richie x Eddie) Or, technically, Barry x Eddie Read on Ao3: Here

After finding out that Barry was, in fact, being followed by an unknown person in an unknown car, he couldn’t take any more chances. On the way back to the hotel he was taking the back way, with many turns, took almost thirty-minutes longer, and overall was a pain in the ass. However, if that’s what Barry had to do to be kept from being followed then he’d do it over and over again. The entire time to keep from picking at his skin, he kept drumming his steering wheel, trying to focus on anything but that. Well… it seemed like he wasn’t being followed at this point, so maybe it was time to head back to the hotel; he was starting to feel exhausted anyways. With all the anxiety attacks and dissociation, of course he had the right to feel tired. He felt embarrassed about what happened in class tonight anyways, so isolating completely until the next classes sounded like the perfect plan for him.

Once he got back to the hotel, Barry was standing in front of the elevator, not yet having pressed a button. He swallowed hard as he was looking at all the floor options, but couldn’t bring himself to press on for some reason. I’ll be followed, I’ll be followed, I’ll be- He snapped out of it quickly when he heard the elevator beep, indicating that someone was on their way down. Eyes wide, Barry backed off quickly, heading to the stairwell to go up to the third floor of the hotel, constantly checking over his shoulder as he did.

There wasn’t a reason he should’ve been so panicked, right? Hell, he wasn’t even this anxious when he killed Janice. Just the fact that he kept the cop alive, that there was that slim chance that he couldn’t be out there again trying to find him sent Barry crazy. He couldn’t wait to tell Fuches what was bothering him this time, just so he could get slapped and told that he was overreacting, to just calm the fuck down and it’ll all go away. Hopefully…

He opened the door to the hotel room, all the lights were off, meaning that Fuches wasn’t in the room. Barry couldn’t think of where he could’ve run off too; he only went to the diner down the street, or once in a while he would go out personally to talk to a new contract. Whatever it was he was up to, Barry was hoping that it didn’t involve him in any way. The last job was exactly that… the last job.

From his back pocket, Barry could feel his phone vibrating. He was hoping that it was Fuches, explaining what he was up to, but it was Sally.

You okay? U seem upset :(

Barry sighed, throwing his phone on his pull out bed, which he could not be happier to see. He plopped down, hearing the springs settle from underneath him, putting his face in his hands as he let out a sigh. His heart was still pounding against his chest like he was in the middle of a gun fight, he needed to ground himself somehow. Who was Barry kidding? He didn’t have the coping skills to deal with this; he wanted to throw things, break things, release this anger somehow.

“I’m gonna have to kill him,” Barry mumbled to himself almost as if on autopilot, like he didn’t know what he was saying. “No, don’t do that…” he smacked his closed fist hard against his head trying to get rid of those thoughts. “You had your chance, you let him live, you can’t take that back now.”

Barry looked over to his right, seeing his laptop that was sitting with the screen half way closed. He couldn’t help himself when he grabbed it, opening his history and going back to Eddie’s Facebook profile. He couldn’t stop thinking about this; yeah, that was certainly the cop he let live, there was no doubt about that. Barry must’ve known him from Maine, even though he didn’t remember much of the place he knew him somehow. Something in Barry’s brain was trying to break free; memories, a bunch of memories were trying to escape being locked up after all these years. There was a lot Barry couldn’t exactly remember and it drove him fucking crazy, like something was trapped under his skin and he needed to rip it out.

Eddie Kaspbrak. The name filled Barry with happiness, like he knew him from long ago. A long lost friend maybe? Barry smacked his forehead a couple of times, trying to get himself to think harder about this. Nothing was exactly coming to mind, pushing Barry into further frustrating.

Suddenly, Barry slammed the laptop shut, putting it on the floor as he began breathing heavily. Fuck. He needed someone to talk to. Now.

He grabbed his phone, calling Fuches, praying that he picks up.

“Barry!” Fuches answered, sounding happy yet drunk at the same time. Must’ve been at the bar.

“Fuches…” Barry said, trying to keep his voice from shaking more than it already was.

“What’s the matter, son? You okay?” He asked, and Barry couldn’t tell if he really cared or was just drunk so it seemed like he cared.

“I’m fine… I just… You know how I lived in Maine?”

Fuches was silent for a moment, trying to understand what he was talking about. Oh. Right. “Huh?”

“Maine. I lived in Derry and we moved the Ohio.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Barry. We lived in Ohio,” he obviously lied through his teeth.

“No… no, I know where I grew up, Fuches. Derry, Maine. That’s… all I remember though. It’s like… a mental block. I don’t remember where I went to school, I don’t remember my parents or home life, shit, I don’t even know if I had friends.”

“Ooooh…” Fuches said, panicking before taking a quick shot. He was getting his lies tangled and needed to play along now. “Right. Derry. That place was so small I almost forgot about it.” How could he tell Barry that his father moved him and his wife to that town because it was so small and nobody could find him there? He wouldn’t. “Right. I took you to Ohio when you were sixteen, remember?”

“I mean… yeah, but-”

“I don’t have any answers for you, Barry. I took you out of there when your parents left.”

Barry opened his mouth to ask more questions, but Fuches had hung up on him almost immediately. Well, that left Barry with more questions than answers, and he was feeling more upset than he did before calling Fuches. Thanks. He grabbed his laptop again, typing in Derry, Maine in the Facebook search bar, hoping to find other people who may have lived there that maybe he could recognize.

Only a small handful of people showed up in the search area, none of which Barry recognized based on faces and names. Barry was better at knowing faces than names anyways, but this wasn’t at all helpful. Well… there was one he possibly recognized. A woman with red hair named Beverly Hanscom. She was pretty, someone Barry felt like he also remembered.

Fuck. Barry didn’t know what the fuck was going on anymore, he was in an endless loop of what if’s and it was driving him insane.

-----

Driving up and down the dark roads only being covered by street lamps was making Eddie grumpy and antsy. How could he have lost their car so easily? It was a crappy old beat up car that would’ve been easy to spot. He had no idea who was driving it, but based on how the tall man was acting outside noticing Eddie’s car it made him suspicious. Yeah, he noticed how often this guy was looking around his mirrors in his car, getting out the moment he saw Eddie’s car and was trying to hide his face from him. All of that jumped out as suspicious, right? Or maybe the need to catch the guy who shot him and most likely Janice was getting the better of Eddie.

Shaking his head, Eddie turned his unmarked car around, heading back to the theater. There was only car left in the parking lot, hopefully it was Gene Cousineau hanging behind. That’s who Eddie really needed to talk to right now. He put on the necklace he carried around with his police badge, he only used it when he was wearing civilian clothes but needed to do police work on the side.

When Eddie stepped out of the car he checked his surroundings, making sure nobody was going to ambush him as he limped his way to the theater. That was the last thing he needed. He wasn’t carrying his gun and would be defenseless if anyone tried anything.

The theater was dark when he entered, only the lights up by the main stage were on and the lights in the nearby hallway. Eddie looked around before making his way down the hallway, he didn’t see anyone yet.

“Gene Cousineau?” He called out, hoping to get a response. There was some fumbling around on the second door on the right, so that’s where Eddie headed to. He stood in the doorway, seeing an older man he recognized from the pictures of the possible suspects back at the station. The man that Mae had swore was innocent. “Gene?” He asked again.

“Interested in the class?” was the only thing the older man said, standing up from his chair at his desk. “First class is free then you gotta pay upfront,” he continued as he picked up the picture frame that tumbled to the floor.

“Oh, no, I’m not… I’m Officer Kaspbrak,” he held up his necklace badge to the older man who looked at it with a confused expression. “I was hoping we could talk about Janice Moss. It won’t take long, I promise.” Gene didn’t say anything, he only gestured to the seat that was in front of his desk, both taking a seat. “Firstly, I want to apologize if I… bring up any old feelings,” Eddie started, pulling out a small notepad and pen from his front t-shirt pocket. “But I need to know what happened the night you last saw her.” Eddie noticed the picture frame that Gene was putting back on his desk was a picture of him and Janice, both in formal wear with huge smiles on their faces. Aw, that’s sweet.

“Well… we were up at my cabin with two of my students; Sally Reed and Barry Block,” as he was talking Eddie was scribbling down notes,

“Why were you guys up there?”

“Well, I was bringing Janice and thought since Sally and Barry were together at the time they’d like to come join us.”

“Okay,” Eddie pulled the folded up pictures that were sticking out of his back pocket, “I need a visual,” he started, handing the pictures over to Gene, “which one is Sally and Barry?” Yeah, the pictures had their names on the back, but Eddie needed to be sure who was who here. The first picture was of the pretty woman with blonde hair and green eyes, the other one who Eddie had expected to be Barry Block. Great. “So they’re dating?” He asked, turning the pictures over so he could see them.

“Well…” Gene shrugged a little, “off and on again. An odd chemistry between them.”

Eddie bit his bottom lip, trying to think of anymore questions he may have had. Nothing was coming to mind at the moment, so that should be it for now.

“Mr. Cousineau, I just want to thank you for your time and cooperation. I’ll come back if I have anymore questions, but if you have anything else for me…” he dug through his shirt pocket again, pulling out his card. “Feel free to give me a call.”

“Wait,” Gene said as they both stood up, holding the card in his hands, “why are you opening this case up again? And why my class of all people? None of them could hurt a fly- well… besides Ryan who apparently could’ve, I suppose.”

Eddie put a hand on his leg as it suddenly started to ache. “I think I may have discovered some connections between the case,” he started, “I feel like the same person who killed Ryan also killed Janice and…” he paused a moment, starting to feel emotional himself. “Janice was my best friend, y’know?” Eddie was doing his best to not cry in front of Gene. He was a police officer, he needed to keep his emotions in check. “I just need to make sure the right people are getting punished for the crime.”

Gene held out his hand to Eddie, who looked at it before looking up at the shorter man.

“Thank you,” Gene said with a sad smile on his face as Eddie shook his hand. “Thank you for reopening the case. I haven’t been able to sleep at night because I just know it was never properly solved. Oh! Here!” He moved to his coat that was on the back of his office chair. He pulled out a key, dropping it in Eddie’s hand. “That’s the key to my cabin if you need it to look around.”

“Thank you, this’ll be helpful. Have a goodnight, Mr. Cousineau.”

“Stay safe, Officer.”

The moment Eddie turned to leave the office tears were silently falling down his face. He waited until he was walking down the hallway to wipe them off. Keep it together, save the emotions for later, he thought to himself as he went back out to his car.

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