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sunnami · 1 year ago

Text

❝like the grass wants to grow, i want to run anywhere that you go.❞

summary. 'a tiny butterfly flapping its wings today may lead to a devastating hurricane weeks from now.' or alternatively, it takes six lifetimes for you to find each other.

pairings. poly!marauders+lily x reader.

word count. 8.9k (i tried to keep it short. i really did T-T)

tags. hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, happy ending. reincarnated/regressor!reader. no specific gender described. not proofread, we die like lucerys velaryon.

cws. brief depictions of death and war, themes of mental health and trauma.

note: lmaoao, as per the poll, here is the time-traveler!reader fic! i didn't cry during the angsty parts so it's probably not that bad.

YOU WAKE UP to a familiar weathered stone ceiling, owls softly hooting beyond the curtained windows, sunken in the mattress of a canopy bed with low snoring on either side of you. There’s a wilting candle on your nightstand, alongside an unfastened leather journal—a whiff of spilt ink under your nose. In your limp embrace, is a plush capybara with a turtle attached to its head. The quilt blanket is entangled between your thighs, the early morning breeze flurrying past the exposed stretch of your belly where your oversized granny-square jumper has ridden up.

It’s only then, when you try curling your fingers and wiggling your toes, that you realize that your body feels as though it had been hit by a shrinking charm.

You sit upright instantly, heart skipping a beat from fright.

No.

You can’t have.

You reach for your brass handheld mirror, tucked away in the bedside drawers.

There is no way you are this unlucky.

Yet staring back at you, is your eleven-year-old self.

Naturally, you end up screaming in frustration—startling the robins idle on the windowsills and all but waking the entirety of the Gryffindor castle. Prefects burst inside the dormitory, wand at the ready and crust in their eyes, in search of a threat only to find you on the verge of hyperventilating.

Bloody hell.

Not again!

Merlin, Morgana and Arthur—you are not going through puberty a sixth time.

“Oh, fuck me,” you mumble defeatedly as you fall back onto the patchwork pillows. Your roommates are gawping at you in horror, the sound of heavy footfalls echoing in the halls outside.

Months ago, you had heard about the gruesome passing of Dorcas Meadowes—you weren’t necessarily close friends with the girl, despite being sorted in the same House, but you would grieve where grief is due.

YOUR FIRST LIFE came to an abrupt end at the age of nineteen, in a quaint coffeehouse where the owner knew your name and the baristas wore a sunlit grin everyday. That day, no one had expected for Death Eaters to wreak havoc in Diagon Alley—it could have been anticipated, if only the Ministry was competent during the onset of the war. But with the extensive list of Muggleborn and half-blood casualties after that incident, Ministry officials had no choice but to restrict certain areas and propose the ‘lesser-breeds’ go into hiding for their safety. This alluded to many families; most condemned to be blood-traitors.

(There had been fleeting whispers of her dying at the wand of Voldemort himself.)

Then, you’d woken up in the four walls of your dormitory. The sensation of being ever-so cruelly struck by the killing curse burning in your chest—a scorching fire, yet bitterly cold all the same. You had sobbed wretchedly, curled up in a shuddering ball of tears until your roommates had called for the prefects. It got worse when they tried to console you—you felt everything still. The panicked cries and screams of the wounded ceaselessly echoing in your head. You remembered the shards of glass sinking into your skin as you dove for cover, Unforgivables apathetically hurled in every direction.

It was not until Madam Pomfrey administered a Calming Draught and an elixir for dreamless sleep that you finally went out like a light extinguished.

Your second life was relatively longer—you had spent it under the supervision of mind healers at St. Mungo’s, after all. For the next thirty years, you’d been confined to a ward on the fourth floor. (Later, you would share this space with a couple who went by the names of Alice and Frank Longbottom.) Regardless of the bleak walls, it was not so bad. The quilts were warm and the assigned matron, Madam Strout, was kind and fussed over you regularly. While the healers had done everything they could, you continued to struggle with discerning what appeared to be your ‘first life.’ (Which one was your true reality? The first? Or the second?) Eventually, all the poking and prodding wore you down. Your fingertips had bruised and brittled. You could not look over your shoulder in fear of finding a Death Eater staring back at you. Night terrors plagued your dreams.

(Your parents who had always embraced you with loving arms—they could not look you in the eyes now.)

Memories bled into newer memories as the days went by. You haunted the corridors with a plagued stare, quickly becoming a woeful canard amongst the residents of the hospital. ‘The hysteric fortune teller,’ they called you. You who spoke of wars and rebellion at the age of twelve—but whose words nobody cared for when Voldemort began rising to power. You who’d gone mad and overwrought. In the end, you believed everyone else.

(See? It must have been all in your head—a wayward spell that unfortunately damaged your memories.)

You’re unsure of how you died, but perhaps, you were never even alive in the first place. There was only so much Draught of Peace you could take before you inevitably became a soulless, sleep-walking husk of a person.

You woke up in the Gryffindor tower once more—this time, you’re careful enough to smother your cries.

If you flinched every time Marlene McKinnon coarsely bellowed Dorcas’s name in the middle of the school hallways, or if you averted your gaze at the sight of Alice Fortescue and Frank Longbottom’s intertwined hands—it was nobody’s business but your own. In this life, you kept your head down, breezing through your homework and exams—although you had seen no purpose in it, at this point. Each morning that you woke up, you wondered if this was a favor from the Gods, or a relentless hell so meticulously-crafted for you.

(But what sins had you committed for them to spit on you as they had done? Surely, you would be granted peace after two deaths.)

You could not tell your family, nor could you ask anyone else in Hogwarts if they remembered fragments of their past lives—for the last time you had done that, you were met with vindictive laughter and cruel gazes.

(At that moment, you had understood Xenophilius Lovegood a little bit more. You never knew how many sought to trample on the wallflowers of the castle.)

And so, you’d kept your head down until the end of your time in the castle. You stayed away from Diagon Alley and surrounding areas, and you willed yourself to perfect the art of apparating—a skill you wished that you had learned earlier.

On the first of November 1981, witches and wizards had come to celebrate the fall of Lord Voldemort—which ultimately meant the death of James and Lily Potter. (You could not come to their funeral the first time around, seeing as you were chained to your hospital mattress that day, inebriated on the third dreamless sleep potion administered to you.)

Under the eyes of St. Jerome, you laid bouquets of white roses and dahlias on their tombstones.

“Wherever your souls are now, I hope you find each other and unearth peace,” you whispered to the two names engraved on the slate, hands clasped together as you rested on the grass. The winds had been cold and biting, a testament to the looming winter that would sweep away the tears on their graves. Like Dorcas Meadows, you did not interact much with James and Lily—but more than anyone, you knew how death was no easy enemy to conquer.

(You hoped their orphaned son would live a life that would not take him too early.)

A few months later, you met your demise to a werewolf named Fenrir Greyback.

As you bled out on the grassfields, you wished for Death to come and take you faster.

When you awakened, it was in the same bed and the same dusty ceiling.

There was nothing you could do but go back to sleep this time around.

After dying pathetically for a third time, a stubborn part of you wanted to fight back—so you did.

Unlike your previous lives, you joined the Dueling Club, supervised by Professor Flitwick himself. Your wand work was clumsy and you stumbled on your incantations. You could not lift your wand without remembering a coffee shop laid to ruin and wreckage or the hardened gaze of Greyback as he sank his teeth into your neck. The times were merciless, your dance with Death even more—but you would not die helplessly again.

As you lay in your bed, muscles aching from dueling practice, you had realized one thing.

You did not want to stain your hands with the blood of another—having grown tired of the Reaper and his antics. If the Gods would not let you rest, then you would not let them take anyone else.

After all, you had the stubbornness of a Gryffindor lion.

For the next six years or so, you devoured your textbooks on charms and healing spells, refining your spellwork until your tongue grew numb and your wrists became sore. When the time came, you followed James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Lily Evans, and many more, in joining the Order of the Phoenix. (Perhaps you should have realized earlier that you all were just wide-eyed children on both sides, forced to partake in a war that should have never been yours to fight.)

The First Wizarding War transfigured the years into a blur of mourning, surviving, and fighting in alleys now-bloodied. Even the sun hid behind the clouds, for brothers began turning on one another. You could only find solace in the fact you had kept Dorcas away from Voldemort’s clutches, volunteering to go in her stead during incursions, and Marlene McKinnon alive for another day to see her family.

But for how long could you cheat fate?

Hours before your death, you found yourself in a forest clearing. The campsite was filled with witches and wizards afflicted with severe hexes and curses—a few of Dumbledore’s best fighters screaming in agony from the Cruciatus.

There you found Remus Lupin, bruised and worse for wear, attempting to wrap a bandage around his shoulders in an empty tent.

“You look like you’ve seen better days,” you said in a soft greeting, stepping inside the tent with a forced smile, your collection of potions and jars of herbal pastes jostling in your leather satchel.

Remus chuckled tiredly. “Haven’t we all?”

You gently pried the bandage from his trembling hands and maneuvering yourself at his back. You stifled the urge to cry at the sight of his scars—so violently red against his pallid skin. Compared to your previous lives, you had developed a friendship with Remus and his group of bold marauders—a camaraderie as true as it could be in dire times. (And if providence had been kinder, you could have dared to want more than just friendship.) You poured drops of Dittany onto his shallower wounds, murmuring empty words of comfort as he flinched and hissed.

“It’s Peter,” he rasped, abruptly holding onto your wrist as you turned to leave. “He’s been missing for hours. Please. I don’t know what I’d. . . what I’d do if. . . if. . .”

You squeezed his hand. “I’ll find him, Remus. Don’t worry.”

True to your word, you had found Peter at sundown deep within the forest. There was an unsettling quietude that hung in the air as you trudged to his side. He was kneeling on the muddy ground, head hanging low. It’s only then that you noticed the body laying still in his arms. Violent chills slithered down your spine as you recognized the woman in his embrace.

“Mary!” you cried out, hurrying to them as fast as you could.

“What happened?” you asked frantically, hands in a desperate search for a pulse. When you were met with no answer, you pressed again more heatedly. “Peter! Look at me!” You gripped his chin, heart hammering in your chest. “You have to tell me what happened! I can’t. . . I can’t help her if I don’t know what hit her.” Droplets of tears fell from your eyes down to Mary’s pale cheeks. “I can’t. . . I need—please. . .”

Bloodshot eyes stared back at you. ��I. . . I didn’t want to do it.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” he croaked, burying his head into the crook of Mary’s neck. “I was so, so scared.”

“Peter, what are you talking about?” You grimaced impatiently when Peter lifted his gaze—but he was not looking at you, rather behind you.

The answer to your question was a killing curse to the back.

An unseen rustle in the bushes that you should have paid attention to, a cloaked figure darker than any shadow; a Death Eater that’d come to ensnare you in a perfectly-laid trap.

(Damn it!)

(Damn it all to Hell!)

You awoke to the sound of your screaming and your limbs thrashing in the bed you’ve grown to despise. There was nary a remorse in your body as your roommates wailed at the sight of your nails drawing blood from your arms. Later that morning, the common room would be filled with talks of your faraway gaze and your scratched-up flesh.

You could not take it anymore.

In your fifth life, you had sought peace—or rather, the most beautiful mockery of it.

You decided to give up your magic to chase a semblance of normalcy. No more wands, no more moving portraits, no more jinxes and pranks, no more owls and wizard robes. Most of all, no more war. (‘But it did not work like that’, Death laughed.) In this life, you wanted what was denied of you in the previous ones.

A family.

A happy ending.

Bitterly enough, the Gods saw fit to give you only one of the two.

You married a Muggle, to your parents’ dismay. He was nice and compassionate—a distant contrast to the ongoing turmoil of the wizarding world. But you could not bring yourself to feel guilt. You had been stripped of everything, which included the privilege to die and lay your soul to rest in perpetuity.

(Who were you, if not a dead man walking?)

Over the years, you would have three children with your husband—three beautiful children born from love, in a world that would not actively seek to take them from you. You raised them all to adulthood, hoping they would not fault you for finding relief at the lack of magic in their veins. Their names were Kinsley, Piper, and Avery—and you had adored every inch of them, from their striking eyes to the tips of their stubby fingers.

On your deathbed, you were surrounded by your grandchildren and your great-grandchildren. An image you held close to your heart as your vision began to deteriorate.

Just this once, you prayed to all that would hear.

Let me die surrounded by my family.

At the age of ninety-one, you drew your final breath.

And when you opened your eyes, you were back in Hogwarts for the sixth time.

TO SIRIUS BLACK, you are a curious little wallflower, albeit a withering one—you who blend among the crowd, with a sad gaze in your eyes and the fretful twisting of your fingers. He doesn’t know why he’s particularly drawn to you—but perhaps he understands, more than anyone, the hesitance of taking up space in fear of punishment for one wrong move. But you look so lost, meandering along the corridors like the ghosts of the castle—but even the spirits seem more alive and colorful than you.

“What is it that they have taken from you?” Sirius wants to ask.

(What judgment has fate placed upon you so—for you to cry each morning?)

There is a raging urge in his veins to reach over and wipe your tears away, but what can he do as a stranger, if not watch powerlessly as you fade into the background?

His fingers feel like they might fall off if they do not entwine with yours. He wants to offer up his shoulders to carry the burdens that weigh down on a creature as lovely as you.

There are times when he and the other Gryffindors catch you crying at the long tables of the Great Hall.

“O-Oh, was I?” Your reply is quiet. Resigned. Sirius has never felt his heart break more than in that moment. You move to weakly swipe at your tears. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to. . .”

“It’s alright, really,” Lily says, her voice strained, the words lodged in her throat. Under the table, she seeks James’s hand for comfort. (How can someone appear to be so lonely and defeated?) “We all have those days.”

“Yes.” You blink away the fresh tears pricking at your eyes, mindlessly pulling at the threads of your woven bandages, a weary chuckle falling from the cracked skin of your lips. “Except, it seems the days never end for me.”

Lily stays silent.

Sirius shares a look with Remus from across the table, an unspoken question hanging between the animagus and the werewolf.

How do their voices call out to the one who so faithfully believes that the world has abandoned them?

But Sirius Black is determined and unyielding—what good of a prankster would he be if he could not bring a smile upon your beautiful face?

He gets his chance during Transfiguration class, when McGonagall instructs the class to pair-up for an activity in turning miniature statues into birds. Predictably, you don’t move a muscle, staring ever-so intently at the sights beyond the classroom windows that you don’t notice the professor observing you worriedly—her lips tightly pressed and her eyes wrinkled with concern. Sirius slams his buttocks onto the wooden chair next to you; the sound of chair legs screeching bounces off the cobblestone walls.

“Hullo, partner.” Sirius grins as he offers you an enthusiastic wave, his dark curls floundering with his energy. He feels the gazes of his best mates boring into his back, but decides to ignore it for now—Remus can live without him for one class. In his mind—a perfectly-reasonable logic for an eleven-year-old, mind you—he figures that you would find class more entertaining if you had the right company. And, Sirius is wonderful company.

You stare at him with furrowed brows and Sirius wishes nothing more than to bring fire to your eyes. “Partner?” you repeat, a tinge of confusion in your voice—a deafening cadence to his ears, as for once, it is not desolation that laces your words.

“Partner,” Sirius affirms with a nod of his head, barely paying heed to McGonagall’s directions at the front of the room—but noting the mention of a prize for the pair who would successfully cast the spell for longer than ten minutes. He takes your silence for uncertainty, and replies with a light-hearted scoff—finding the pout on your lips adorable. “I’ll have you know I’m a bloody master at Transfiguration. Not even James could match me in this class—okay, maybe he could, but that’s not important, is it? Point is, with me at your side, Minnie will have no choice but to give us a hundred points!”

From the frown on your lips, Sirius gathers that you’re unimpressed by him—a first, but not a total setback.

He seizes the small box of porcelain figurines before you can blink, a wry smile on his face as he wrangles a boastful laugh from his throat. “Ready to have your mind blown? I’ve been practicing this spell since last night. There’s no way I’m getting this wrong.”

“Oh, I’m Sirius Black, by the way—at your service.” He holds out his hand for you to shake, wondering what your palm would feel like in his. Cold? Warm to touch? Or, perhaps, a perfect fit—just as Lily’s hand feels laced with his?

He doesn’t find the answer to his question. Instead, you draw your wand from your robe pocket, and point the tip of the wood at the earthenware at Sirius’s grasp.

“Avifors,” you recite delicately—such a flawless incantation that Sirius hears Merlin himself weeping in the depths of his grave.

The figurine grows feathers and a beak—Sirius and the rest of the students can only watch as the weebill flutters its wings and soars through the roof.

He’s stupefied. Breathless, one might say. But not because of your little trick—rather, the growing smile on your lips as you watch the bird fly across the room. Your eyes flicker with mischief, and like a man on the edge of a cliff—what is Sirius Black to do, but fall?

THE END OF YOUR first-year at Hogwarts draws near, and so does the springtime—a coveted season for lily flowers to bloom. The April winds find you out by the lake edge, swinging your legs idly on a marble stone bench where the cypress vines grow along the cracks. Songbirds fly overhead as the daylight glistens on the surface of the Black Lake, a beech tree in the near distance, butterflies dancing past the gnarled trunk. Pollen floats like dust in a cupboard under a staircase. Ducklings waddle after their mother as riverine rabbits scurry on into the tall, purple nettles. On days like this, you find it easier to settle into your new life—but, perhaps, you have your friends to thank for that.

Yet, as you find yourself wanting to reach out to their outstretched hands, flashes of children with your hair, your eyes, cheekbones whittled to resemble your own, haunt you. Their pure and gentle temperaments, painfully akin to their father’s. You mourn them every day. Their names are forever inscribed in the locket of your soul. (You did not find it fair—you who live again, and they who disappear forever. An existence that would cease to be—all because you fear what awaits you in this life. Why must it be you who should walk this land with a body scarred by wounds no one else can see? Why must it be you who mourns the loss of your family, your friends, and all your loved ones—everyone murdered by the Gods who spit on the five graves with your name written on it? Why? Why?)

Do you dare to live a life without them? Is it fair to deprive them of a chance of being a family while you waste away on the Isles? You may have lived multiple lifetimes, but not once have you been given the answers you seek.

You will not find happiness without them; it is as you deserve.

(For why else would Death torment you so if you are seen as innocent in their eyes?)

“How did I know I’d find you here?” A sing-song voice emerges from the trees, and you’ve no need to turn your head—the sound of Lily’s bright cadence is one you’re familiar with. But, somehow, you’ve grown fond of her voice, more acquainted with her smile and laugh than you’ve ever been in the last five lives. (You have to wonder if this friendship is one you’re permitted to enjoy.) Her grin is blinding, more so than the afternoon sun behind her. Lily’s wavy hair falls over her shoulder as she plops down on the empty space beside you. “We didn’t see you at lunch today,” she says, looking ahead, the warmth of her hand inching closer to your own. “I figured you didn’t want a bunch of whiffy boys around.”

Then, she looks around, searching for any prying ears, a stream of giggles falling from her lips. “Although, I must warn you—their pockets are loaded with food stolen from the hall, saying they’d give it to you when you returned to the tower. But I think Minnie caught onto them.” She chortles, a fond gaze in her eyes.

You hum in thought, a smile unknowingly pulling at your lips. “Thank you, Lily. It’s sweet of you to come and find me.”

She harrumphs light-heartedly, snootily lifting up her nose. “Don’t get too used to it. We’re only just best friends, after all.”

A silence encompasses the two of you, sitting under the shade, pink fingers shyly intertwined. Lily allows the minutes to flow by like a breeze on the waters, until she stares at you with thick emotions flickering in her emerald eyes. She nibbles on her bottom lip, long lashes kissing her eyelids. “Are. . . Are you alright? Is it one of those days again?”

You grin at her question, impishly nudging her legs with yours. It’s a gesture you deeply appreciate—befriending you and growing closer to you in ways you imagine are never in your cards. But Lily is only eleven, and you will not act upon your selfishness. (But, maybe—just maybe—you are allowed to relish in their company until you are called once again to your deathbed. In the next life, they might not know your name as they do now, and the revelation frightens you immensely.)

“I’m okay,” you say, a gnawing lie that sounds unconvincing to even your own ears. You stare at the flock of swans diving in the lake. “I was just missing a few friends back home.” You remember the toddlers that you used to call your own—their spittled possessiveness toward anyone who dared to snatch your attention away from them. “I don’t know if they would be happy with me going off on my own adventure,” you say, sparing Lily a knowing look. “They are—erm—Muggles.”

“Oh.” Lily nods, mulling over your words. “Tuney. . . my sister. She sort of resents me ever since I left for Hogwarts. We live a world apart, and it barely helps that she ignores me during the holidays.” She sighs, averting her gaze elsewhere, a grimace pulling at her mouth. “Sometimes I wonder if all of this was never meant for me. That I was just a fluke. Why do I have magic and not her? Any day now, I expect for McGonagall to come and ask me to pack my bags and head straight home.”

“But,” says Lily, her eyes resolute and her fire unwavering, “until that day comes, I will enjoy every bit of this world as I can. Tuney will just have to deal with that.” She offers you a mellow smile—a likeness to a kind husband that you had once in a past lifetime. “Besides, I think those who truly love us will understand the paths we must take. Even if it means parting ways for a long time. Your friends will not blame you; they’ll want you to live truly and freely.”

Her words sink deep into your bones, and you can’t help but let out a hearty laugh. You simper at the confused tilt of her head. “Wise words, Lily Marie Evans. Are you sure you’re only twelve?”

Lily beams. “Mum likes to tune into the Sunday motivational-talk channels.”

(“The ones we love never really leave us, do they?” Sirius Black will tell you one day, when you’ve bared to him the truth of your lives, and he looks at you no differently than he has before—with all the adoration and fondness of his heart.)

Later, before you and Lily make your way back to the castle, you pick three flowers among the chicory weeds. She stays behind as you kneel by the riverside. For the children you have loved, and will continue to love for eternity. Droplets of tears fall onto the water, joining the floating blue petals. “I’m sorry that I cannot find you as you are,” you whisper, a heavy weight lifting from your shoulders. “But I hope that we meet again in this life, whichever names you may take.”

(After all, what love is stronger than one that perseveres across endless lifetimes?)

You carry them in your heart—letting cherished memories remain as such. Otherwise, you’ll be chasing what can never be again. It would be an injustice to their names to try and replicate a shallow imitation of them. They deserve more than that—to be treated like a pawn in Death’s game. They were alive and you will honor them befittingly.

You bid them goodbye and allow the tethers of their soul to untangle from your grasp.

It is the most difficult farewell—and yet, the easiest act of mercy you have ever carried out.

‘THE FLAP OF a butterfly’s wings can evoke a hurricane in the next world over.’

This is a phrase you’ve come to be familiar with over the span of your numerous lives. It has never been truer than the moment you step outside the infirmary to find a group of mismatched Gryffindors waiting for you in the halls. Their heads snap in attention at the sound of your footfalls. In an instant, you’re crowded with their questions and worries—but you find it endearing, the way your friends fuss over you. It’s certainly a welcome change from a past spent by your lonesome in the castle. (You only wonder what makes this life so different from the rest? Why is everything changing without you noticing? What will be taken from you for this deviation in time?)

“How did it go?” James asks, now seventeen and captain of the Quidditch team, wavy tendrils of brown hair swooping over his round glasses. The broad of his chest fills out his red and yellow jumper, crocheted by Lily over the yule break—the five of you, including Peter, Marlene, Mary, and Dorcas, have matching sweaters as well.

Except, you like to tease them with a jest that Lily made yours with the most love—as no one else had the pattern of a capybara with an apple on its head.

“Well enough,” you answer, patting his shoulder with a tired smile that reaches your eyes—for how could one not cheer up in the face of James Fleamont Potter? That would be saying the skies do not brighten in the company of the sun.

By incontestable decree of Poppy Pomfrey, the headstrong matron of the castle, you are required to meet with a mediwitch from St. Mungo’s twice a week, since the start of your fifth-year. Healer Robbins floos to Hogwarts on Wednesdays and Saturdays to check up on your health, physically and mentally. Of course, you don’t divulge anything about your time-traveling dilemmas, lest you end up confined to a hospital ward again for the rest of your years. But you do end up addressing—albeit, begrudgingly—the dried tear stains on your pillowcase every morning, your wayward habit of purposefully missing meals, or your tendency to withdraw yourself from your peers on certain days—which coincidentally happen to be the anniversary dates of your deaths. (If no one would grieve for you, then you’d do it alone.)

Who’d have thought that healing would be much more tortuous than hurting in the quietude of your room?

But one thing is for certain—this is a suffering you will endure with greed and hunger.

For today’s session, Healer Robbins suggests you proactively live in the present more—which is easier said than done.

“Although, she did tell me to stop slouching all the time,” you inform James, scrunching your nose in feigned offense, to which he replies with a hearty chuckle, pulling you into his embrace for a side hug. You burrow your nose in his scent of oakmoss and orris root, a lingering touch of broom polish as well—you feel the warmth of his hand splayed out on your back, and hide your grin into his chest.

“Well, someone had to tell you,” says Regulus Black with a scoff, arms crossed over his chest, yet no genuine heat in his trenchant eyes. He looks pleased that you return unharmed from your meeting with Healer Robbins. Funnily enough, you’ve no doubt that the famed Black temper would emerge should you utter so much as a single word against the mediwitch. (You like her, though. Some days, Robbins lovingly spiels about her clumsy-footed wife—and in return, you talk about your sad feelings. Eurgh. Talk about a fair exchange.)

Among the many divergences in this life, one of them is the unforeseen friendship you have forged with Regulus Arcturus Black. But that story begins with Xenophilius Lovegood, when you stumble upon him in the Forbidden Forest chasing after a family of bowtruckles with a fervid expression and a journal in one hand. You protect him from foul-mouthed Ravenclaws, and he allows you to tag along in his woodland escapades—including a lifelong access to the kitchens beyond curfew. His lack of regard for personal safety is both endearing and maddening, you realize early on. One stormy night, you chase Xenophilius into the forest—he is barefoot, following the Mooncalf hoofprints, as you spit out strings of expletives and mouthfuls of rain. That is where you find Regulus, groaning in pain and carrying a burden that is much too heavy for a fifteen-year-old.

Then, a year later, they decide to give you a heart-attack when you discover that Pandora and Xenophilius have taken Regulus under their wing—figuratively and literally. And, most of all, romantically.

You’re more speechless than Sirius had been when you catch him one fateful evening.

(“Don’t do it, Sirius Black,” you greet, startling the ebony-haired boy as you step out from the shadows. The common room is silent, save for the crackling embers in the fireplace. You stare at the sixteen-year-old with a vehement resolve, your hands curled into fists. If there is one fixed event you had to live through over and over again, it is the news of Severus Snape being nearly mauled to death by a creature so feared and gruesome. You will not let it happen in this life. His eyes flicker with shame amongst a sea of gray, and he knows that you know about his abhorrent idea of a ‘prank.’

You sigh, taking another step forward, hand coming to rest on his tense shoulder. “Let it go, Sirius. It’s not worth it. Bringing someone to harm is never worth it. If he dies, his blood will be on your hands—and you don’t want that, trust me. Be kind to him, Sirius—and even kinder to your brother. The two of you are all each other has.”

“Not true,” Sirius whispers back, almost afraid, his fingers tracing the curve of your cheeks. “I have you, Prongs, Lily, and Rem.”

“And Remus is exactly who we should be with right now,” you reply with a harsh glare. “Not in the common rooms trying to one-up Snape because of some childish rivalry.” With a long sigh and a shake of your head, you push back the dark curls from his face. “The times are cruel, Sirius. We must hold onto what we can.”

His forehead will fall onto your shoulder, and your shirt will be soaked with his tears, but you realize that you will hold him, and all those who’ve captured your heart, until Death himself pries you away from their embrace.)

But, it all pales in comparison to the horror in Sirius’s eyes when you point at Regulus and Peter, as you utter with absolute conviction, “They are my dearest friends.”

While Peter may have been a traitor in another life, a murderer with blood and guilt staining his hands—he is only a skittish boy in this one. A timid student who hides behind the shadows of his friends. You will not let him go down that path again. The Peter Pettigrew you currently know is a mousy little thing, pun intended, who sneaks in a pouch of sugared jelly worms in the library for you and him to enjoy whilst copying off each other’s Arithmancy homework—you two automatically get perfect marks, seeing as you’ve went through school multiple lifetimes already. Truthfully, when you see him tongue-tied before Mary Macdonald, you can’t envision anything else than a lifeless body and a man apologizing for his sins. But it is hardly fair to condemn Peter for the sins of a life he has not lived—and will never live through, if you have anything to say about.

A lion protects their pride, and that is what you shall do. Even if it tears you apart in the process. (Healer Robbins won’t be so pleased about that, though.)

But, perhaps, the most unexpected surprise you’ve received this year is—shockingly—not the news of Dorcas and Marlene dating, and neither is Alice and Frank’s relationship as you have already known that since your first life. It is James, Remus, Lily, and Sirius announcing to the world, with a poorly-written poem for a gnome to recite on Valentine’s Day—courtesy of James Potter himself—that the four of them are in love. In all five lives, that has never happened. Not even Lucius Malfoy can call into question the genuineness of their devotion to one another—and he will not dare to do so in your presence, otherwise he’d find himself at the mercy of you and Narcissa Black.

The four of them are happy as one, and you would die to ensure they stay together until the end of their time. Dark lords be damned.

An even bigger shock comes when their affection for each other unspokenly extends to you. Not in a manner that equals their rambunctious gestures—because the Marauders don’t do anything half-arsed. (And if they fall in love, they fall without fear.) But in a way that is quiet yet intense, ever-so mindful of your walls—with an intention to break them down slowly and only with your utmost permission. They leave you confused with each day that passes. (You fear that they think you pitiful for having not found a significant other.)

(For months now, your heart is set aflutter just by the sound of their voices—if they look at you as a token charity case, it would tear you apart.)

Forehead kisses, hand-holding in the corridors, late nights in the kitchen—tipsy on gillywater and the scathe of each other’s touch. Picnics by the lake, bodies intertwined where no one knows where they begin or end. Ventures in the library where not a soul is paying attention to the passages of their textbooks—hushed giggles turning into unrestrained laughter until Madam Pince rounds the corner and has you all thrown out. (How long has it been since you felt so free?) It’s the little things, like your fingers brushing against theirs as you walk side-by-side, or the soft glint in their eyes as they stare at you from across the room—as though you are a jewel to behold.

It is one thing to know that you are living a life after life—but it is another thing entirely to feel alive when they are nearby.

You are alive when Remus relaxes on the carpeted floor of the Gryffindor tower, and as you lay on the velvet couch, he draws protection runes on your palm with his finger. When he thinks you’re asleep, he presses a kiss to the back of your hand. When the nights are unbearably long and you find a safe haven in his embrace, and he in yours.

You are alive when James cages you in a bear hug after an intense Quidditch match against Slytherin, limp tendrils of hair clinging to his sweat-soaked skin, pressing a series of fervent kisses to the side of your head until his voice is louder than the cries of victory coming from the cheering stands.

(“Lay back down, James Fleamont Potter,” you command tersely as you push him onto the infirmary bed. You narrow your eyes at the bandages wrapped around his arms and neck, as though it’d personally wronged you. “Don’t even think about getting up,” you quickly add when you notice his droopy eyes staring at the doors—where Sirius, Remus, and Peter have gone off for a night of mischief. With an exaggerated sigh, James will roll his eyes before pulling you into the bed with him.)

You are alive when Lily scours the Great Hall in the mornings, hair fussed from sleep and her face bare, and when her eyes finally land on you—none misses the way she lights up blindingly, as if she were a poppy flower emerging from the forest floors and all her petals are curling towards the sun. She bounds over to you with a smile that draws everyone in the room to her. And your heart will have no choice but to swell three times its size when Lily falls asleep mid-meal, snoring with her neck bent and a spoon dangling from her mouth.

You are alive when Sirius dashes across the room to claim you as his Potions partner. He’ll spend the rest of the class with a triumphant grin on his face—sitting on a rickety chair as he lazily admires the view of your backside. And may the Gods help the poor soul who dares to question your work.

(“See that lovely creature over there?” Sirius will say with a dangerous lilt to his voice, pointing to you who’s quite busy squabbling with Severus and Barty Jr. over frog legs. “They will be the greatest apothecary to ever walk the wizarding world—so watch your tongue, mate.”)

They are your limbs, the blood in your veins—the ache in your heart. The fires of your soul. And when they are near, you are finally whole. (Healer Robbins certainly won’t like that, either—but this is a thought you shall selfishly keep for yourself.)

That is why you had come to a decision at the beginning of the year.

“I need to tell you all something,” you say, breaking out of your stupor and finally meeting everyone’s eyes. You meet Sirius’s gaze from where he leans against the wall, his attention on you—and only you. You reckon he notices the way you’re fidgeting nervously with your fingers, gnawing on your lip as you suck in a deep breath. It’s similar to the way he acted when he first told the group about his intentions to run away from his mother. Healer Robbins told you earlier to not dwell on the past—it’s only a thing that time-travelers do, she had said. You suppose there’s no better way to exercise honesty than to tell your loved ones about the secret you have been keeping for the last five lifetimes. You just hope they won’t look at you differently when all is said and done.

Marlene’s gaze worriedly flickers from you and to the infirmary doors. “Has the mediwitch said something?”

You shake your head. “There’s something you should know about me.”

Like a badly-written joke, a pack of lions, a snake, and a badger follows you into an empty classroom. They watch with furrowed brows as you cast a silencing charm over the room. You feel the weight of their curiosity as you take a seat in the center, drumming your nails on your lap as everyone moves to do the same. Remus wordlessly takes the seat next to you, as though being by your side is a natural phenomenon—like the shores never straying from the sand. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze and you return his kindness with a weary smile. You look at the protective circle that’s somehow formed around you. Marlene, Dorcas, Mary, Xenophilius, Regulus, Lily and the Marauders. (Since when did you gain a family like this in such a short time?)

“Where do I even begin?” you ask with a shuddery breath. “It might get a bit intense. . . and sad, and I wouldn’t want to overwhelm you. So it’s okay if you aren’t prepared to take this all in yet. I’d understand.”

“What one of us goes through, we all go through together,” Dorcas vows with her head high. “It’s not the first time we’ve done this, love,” she says, looking at everyone else in the room. “We’re here for you. Always have been. It’s what friends are for, aren’t they? You taught us that. Let us return the favor now.”

You laugh wetly, eyes crinkling with gratitude. “I suppose you’re right.”

There is no time like the present.

And if all goes awry, you probably might just jump out of a window and reset everything. (You wouldn’t, really. This life is precious to you more than anything in the world.)

You close your eyes and draw air into your lungs.

No time like the present.

“When I first died, I was only nineteen.” Despite the pinched expressions and soft gasps, you force the words out. You have to. Otherwise, the tale of your lives will be buried with you forever. This is the first time you have ever said the words aloud. It’s both exhilarating and terrifying. “Death Eaters came to Diagon Alley. It all happened so fast, next thing I knew the killing curse was cast straight at me.”

Regulus flinches, and you offer him an apologetic grimace.

“But that wasn’t the end,” you continue amidst their horrified wide-eyes—feeling Remus tighten his hold on your hand. You chuckle bitterly. “If it had been, maybe it all would’ve hurt less. When I woke up, I was back in the Gryffindor tower.”

“What?” Lily frowns as a shadow is cast over her eyes. “But how?”

“I wish I knew,” you reply with a lodge in your throat, eyes thick with incoming tears. “I really wish I knew. But I woke up back in Hogwarts. I was alive again. Somehow, someway, I was alive. But I was dying.” You shut your eyes, head craning to the ceilings as you swallow back a sob. “Have you felt what it’s like to be burnt alive? That’s what the killing curse is like. And I feel it everyday. When I told the nurses this, I was sent straight to St. Mungo’s. They could not heal what was not found in my body. They called me mad. And there was nothing I could do but believe them. It was like that until I died on an infirmary bed, leather straps around my wrists and legs, forbidden to leave the ward and feel even the sunlight on my face. I was deemed a threat to the others and myself.”

Lily beats you to the punch and cries into her hands—the harrowing sound torn from her throat. Mary, with her own stream of tears, pulls Lily into a hug.

“I-I told you it was ugly,” you say timidly, averting your gaze out of remorse. “We can stop here if you’d like.”

“We’re staying,” says Lily with a guttural edge to her words, eyes quickly growing red.

“Then, in my third life, I died by a. . . Greyback—it was Greyback who killed me.” You intertwine your fingers with Remus’s, who’s gone ashen from the reveal. “It’s alright.”

“The bloody hell do you mean it’s alright?” James bellows, running a hand through his hair as he tears himself from his seat, chest heaving up and down. “None of this is alright! How could you say that? We. . .We should tell Dumbledore or something—or anyone! This shouldn’t have happened to you—it’s just too cruel. . .”

“I know,” you acquiesce with a low hang of your head. “I know.”

Sirius exhales jaggedly. “Was that the last of it? Of your. . . your deaths?”

“No.” You stare at him with regret. “In my fourth life, I died in a Death Eater ambush.”

Xenophilius looks like he might faint any second.

“But in my fifth life, I met some people in the Muggle world,” you explain, remembering kind eyes and wide smiles, a family made in a home far away from magic and wars. “I loved them dearly. When I thought I was being punished by Gods, they gave me peace. They taught me unconditional love and I. . .” You let the tears drip onto your skirt. “I might never find them again, but I’ll never forget them for as long as I live. It was the only death given to me without pain.”

You watch as Lily’s doe-eyes flicker with realization. Three flowers in a watery grave.

“And here I am now. The end,” you say, forcing a crooked grin as you brush the dust off your school robes.

No one moves a muscle for the next few minutes.

You freeze in fear.

(Have you upset them? Do they see only a talking corpse now?)

The room is suffocatingly quiet and you can’t bear to see the pity or judgment in their eyes—so you run out of the room as though Death himself was hot on your heels.

They are right behind you—of course, they are. (Where a part of their soul goes, they will follow.)

“Are you angry?” You quietly ask, wrapping your arms around your waist—afraid to turn around and face them. “I would not blame you if you are.”

“No, not mad. Never.” Lily falls into place by your side, hovering but never stepping past your erected borders. “Maybe at the circumstances. It’s all so unfair. I’m. . . We’re just upset that you had to live through that all alone. To die over and over. I can’t imagine how much it must have hurt each time.”

You nod, swallowing the urge to crumble on the floor. “Then you’ll understand why. . . why you and I—all of us—I can’t be with you.”

Remus frowns, stepping forward to reach out to you. “What?”

“Don’t make this any harder than this has to be, please,” you beg, voice hoarse and hands trembling.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Sirius presses further, a bitter acid to his words. He looks frightened, almost—guilt instantly pools in your stomach.

“Don’t you see? Everything is changing!” You exclaim, grateful that you’ve chosen the abandoned corridors of the castle where no one dares to venture on a sunny day. “I can’t protect you if I don’t know what’s to happen next! I’d rather die again than let any of you get hurt.”

“Then don’t!” shouts James, veins straining against his neck, tears of his own glistening within his hazel eyes. “I would rather die than pretend none of what I feel—what we feel—for you isn’t real.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying, James,” you retort with a sharp scoff. “I’ve no need for a relationship that’s borne from pity or charity.”

“Pity?” Lily echoes incredulously. “You think I’ve confused love for pity? Is that how low you think of us? After all that we’ve been through?”

“Are you stupid?” Sirius bites back.

“Excuse me?” you shriek. “Must I spell it out for you? I’m trying to protect you! I am cursed!”

“Not anymore than I am!” Remus bellows with his fists tightly clenched, his canines laid bare and his cheeks lit ablaze. “If you’re cursed, I must be damned. Why can’t you allow yourself the same grace that you’ve given us?”

You wilt. “I can’t do it, Remus. I just can’t. If I die again, and everything resets—don’t you know how much it will kill me if we start as strangers again?”

Remus encases you in his warmth, an embrace that promises to keep you safe from all harm. (What good of a monster would he be if he can’t rip apart your fears for you?) “Then we will find you in that life. And every life after that. We’ll use a pensieve, or anything at all—just so we don’t forget.”

You melt in his arms, bathing in his scent of caraway and bergamot. You feel Remus placing a kiss on the crown of your head. “All these things I know. All these lives I’ve lived through. What if I ruin everything in this life?”

“Then do it,” Lily provokes stubbornly.

“Ruin me,” James pleads raspingly—a falter in his steps as though he’d get on his knees and beg in an instant just for you to stay with them. “Ruin me as much as you’d like. You would be the most beautiful devastation of my life.”

And so, you choose them.

For there was never any other option from the start.

YOU WAKE UP in the dead of the night, sunken in a mattress that is one too small for five people to fit in, leafy vines and fairy lights wrapped around the posters of the bed. Sometime during the night, Lily had thieved the wool blanket for herself. You rest in between her and Sirius, their snores echoing into your ears as the grasshoppers chirp outside. The potted plants will swing from the ceiling as the evening breeze passes by. (You’ll scold James in the morning for leaving the windows open again.) By your feet, is a fat Tabby cat with one eye named Tuna. (Full name: Tuna Belly.) There are moving pictures on the flower-plastered wall, a testament to the life you share—and the life you have fought hard for. Ruffled pillows are strewn across the carpeted floor. Parchments and notes lay askew on the desk table across the room—Remus’s jittery preparation for his first day next week as Hogwarts’s newest professor.

Remus will catch you wide awake and tuck you into his chest, murmuring, “Rest now. We’ve got an early morning tomorrow for Wormy’s wedding.”

You’ll hum and relinquish your thoughts for the night, holding onto James hand over Remus’s belly. “I love you,” you’ll whisper.

Remus will say it back without hesitation—and you know the others feel exactly the same.

Minutes later, the door will creak open and a tiny shadow will come crawling into the bed, knocking into everyone’s knees and stomach. It’s a little Harry who’s three years old now. He curls under your neck and you will hold him with all the love that six lifetimes can offer and more.

When you close your eyes, it is a comforting darkness that envelopes you.

(Somewhere in a castle beyond valleys and lakes, locked away in the dusty shelves of Dumbledore’s cupboards, sits a broken Time-Turner that finally stops ticking.)

a/n: i wrote the last 2k words like a woman posessed! LMAO. i have to be at training in 2 hours and i haven't prepared yet. tell me what you thought aaaaa!!!! and yes, your sixth life is your last life so u die happily and in peace mwah mwah. might continue this universe with drabbles, idk. if u spot any mistakes.. ignore it for a bit LMAO, i'll proofread this soon.

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thisapplepielife · 1 month ago

Text

Written for the @corrodedcoffinfest May Mayhem Bingo event and my main card over at @steddiebingo.

Even Strokes

CCF Prompt: Lounge Singer AU || Steddie Bingo Prompt: Chef AU | Word Count: 5430 | Rating: T | CW: Recreational Alcohol Consumption, Language | Relationship(s): Steddie | Tags: Chef Steve, Lounge Singer Eddie, Wooing With Food, First Kiss, Getting Together, Fluff

Also on ao3.

Steve is running the pass, slides two plates forward, and then another two. He wipes the edge of the plate, and straightens a piece of garnish, "Order up."

He waits, and nobody appears.

"Chris! Order up!" he shouts louder, and Chrissy isn't anywhere to be seen. She's usually right where she's supposed to be, without fail. He's never had any server in this place be as on top of it as she is, and she could be working a white-tablecloth somewhere, making real cash. If such a thing existed out here in BFE.

He's not letting these die on the pass.

"Hands!" he yells. Someone, anyone, will do.

Chrissy pops up, "Sorry, Chef. I'm here!"

He nods. It's fine. He just has higher standards than this casino really, truly allows. It's not even pretending to be fine dining, he's over qualified for the position. But he's not coming down to their level. He'll drag them all kicking and screaming up to his own.

Either way, for now, another four-top has plates down.

Honestly, the casino isn't all bad. Sometimes the tips are great when a whale gets hot, getting generous, even with the kitchen staff. He's a chef, but this place doesn't really have the need for one, so he's working more like a line cook with far too much experience.

He doesn't really mind.

Steve prefers the heat of the kitchen to doing paperwork in an office any day. He's got a good crew, and he doesn't mind rolling up his sleeves and working elbow to elbow with them. Even when they are in the weeds, like they are tonight.

Argyle brings him three more plates.

"Pick up, table three!" Steve announces, wiping the edge of one of the plates, and rings the bell. He hates the bell. But it works better than yelling all the time. Just because they aren't a Michelin star establishment doesn't mean he can't make things look nice.

Chrissy grabs it from the window with a smile, and is off again. She works her tail off, and that's why she easily makes the most on nights like this. They do steady business most nights, but on the nights when the lounge singer is here, it quadruples. Steve doesn't get the hype. He hasn't seen him, but he's heard him, and he's fine. But definitely nothing to bum rush the place about. Music stuck in the fifties and sixties, chosen carefully to please the masses. Straight out of Kellerman's, with no Johnny Castle to shake things up.

Sometimes he has a live band, sometimes he doesn't.

Steve pauses, listens, and thinks tonight is a solo set. He's singing Be-Bop-a-Lula, and Steve can hear the crowd's drunken hooting.

Nancy drops off another ticket, and he picks it up, yelling over the constant noise a kitchen brings, "Kill a ribeye, SOS ranch sub, fire!"

He hears the groaning and moaning, but Argyle throws down the cut of meat he's been tasked with cooking to death. Robin is plating the salad, putting ranch dressing in a ramekin on the side, instead of Steve's own homemade house dressing.

Steve's tried to bring up the quality of the place, but he can't make the clientele eat out of their comfort zones. This isn't that kind of establishment. So, a well done steak and passing on a fantastic dressing they're scared to try is par for the fucking course.

Oh well. He'll continue to do what he does best, and accept that that's all he can control. Not being able to grasp that is what made him end up here in the first place.

He's bullshit.

A fraud.

Closing his eyes, he counts to five, takes a deep breath, and heads back to his station, grabbing a ribeye roast from the walk-in along the way.

Picking up his boning knife, he trims the lip off the edge of the roast, getting rid of the excess fat. Then he switches knives, and lets his blade do the work, cutting precise, even steaks.

He looks up at the clock.

Three hours to go.

Steve's finishing up his closing routine, when Chrissy pops her head into the kitchen through the swinging door. She's got a guy he's never seen before at her elbow, and she asks, "Hey, Chef. Is it too late to order something?"

It's absolutely too fucking late to order anything. The kitchen is closed, the crew already long gone.

But Steve looks him up and down. He's got long, dark hair pulled up on the top of his head, and one dimple as he smiles sheepishly. And it's Chrissy. She's beyond sweet, and if she's found a straggler she wants fed, Steve can wax this table himself. Because if this guy is important to her, then he's important to Steve. They're family. That's just the way this works.

Steve waves him in, and points to a stool in the corner.

"Thanks, Chef. This is Eddie. He's the singer," she says, then turns back to Eddie, patting his shoulder, "Steve will take real good care of you."

Steve wipes his hands on the towel slung over his shoulder, "Hey, man. The kitchen's closed, but I'll see what I can do."

"Thanks, my van won't start, so I'm stuck waiting for my friends to come help me, and I'm starving."

"You picky?" Steve asks.

Eddie shakes his head, "Not even a little."

Steve smiles at that, and it makes him more willing to fire the grill back up. If he can stretch his skills, use the muscles that are lying dormant in this place, he's thrilled for the opportunity.

Especially for someone that looks like Eddie.

He hasn't eaten either, but usually settles for a PB&J at home after a long day in the kitchen, unwilling to cook for himself once he gets home. But, if he's already doing it for Eddie, adding something for himself isn't a big deal.

Pulling the remaining piece of ribeye loin from the walk-in that he was going to use as a small prime rib roast, he instead hand cuts two steaks. Thick, and perfectly even. He doesn't need a scale to know that. He can feel it these days, see it. He can also feel Eddie's eyes on him, watching his every move.

"So, you're the lounge singer?" Steve asks. They can't just sit in silence.

"That's me," Eddie laughs.

"You're not what I imagined," Steve admits.

"Oh yeah?" Eddie asks, and when Steve cuts a glance at him, he's grinning. "What you'd imagine?"

"Older," Steve says, "pudgier. Maybe a toupee."

Eddie tosses back his head, laughing like he's delighted. And Steve can't help but notice that he's gorgeous. He really should have made time to see his show sooner. Nobody told him. He'll have to fire them all.

"Not yet. Maybe in a few more years," Eddie says, and Steve's very charmed by this guy Chrissy dropped in his lap. He won't fire her, he decides.

Steve works while they talk. Chopping lettuce, and tomatoes. Grabbing other prep containers from the walk-in, and when he's done, he puts a salad down on the worktop in front of Eddie. He can at least get started with that. Tide himself over.

"This dressing is amazing," Eddie says, jabbing his fork into the lettuce again.

"Thanks, man, that's my own recipe," Steve says, and someone willing to try it, let alone liking it, is a rarity these days.

"And the croutons!" he adds.

"Homemade," Steve confirms. He uses the leftover bread from the day before and makes them fresh. There's a difference, for sure, and he appreciates that Eddie can tell. Not everyone can, he's learned. Most are just fine with the commercially available bags.

Steve's not, though.

Maybe Eddie needs to work in the kitchen instead of on the stage. That way he could see him every night.

Once he's done cooking, Steve pulls up another stool, and puts down both plates. Steaks, duck fat fried potatoes and steamed veggies.

"This is amazing," Eddie says, picking up his knife, "I was fine with a PB&J, anything."

Steve grins, "That's what I usually eat when I get home."

"No way! When you can do all this? Blasphemy."

Fork to his mouth, Steve chuckles, "I do this all day, every day. I don't usually find the energy to do it at home, after. I just melt into the couch, and subside on scotch and cigarettes."

"Sounds familiar," Eddie says with a grin, "I'm glad you decided to eat with me tonight, then. We can both eat peanut butter tomorrow."

And Steve laughs at that. They can indeed.

Eddie's singing again tonight. Steve's been paying close attention, waiting, which is a little pathetic. But he's been thinking about him since the other night. His smile, his kind eyes.

He's nursing a hell of a crush like he's some kind of kid. And he hasn't been a kid in a long fucking time.

Steve takes off his apron, and picks up the two sandwiches he'd wrapped in wax paper.

"I'll be back to help clean up," Steve tells Robin, and she rolls her eyes.

"Sure you will."

"I will," he stresses, and then he pushes through the swinging doors out to the floor, and makes his way backstage. He's not even sure if Eddie's still around. He may get the hell out of here fast. Steve would if he could.

But Steve stands in the hall outside of the dressing room for the acts that perform every night. When Eddie finally opens the door, Steve holds up one of the sandwiches, an offer.

"I think peanut butter and jelly sandwiches were mentioned."

Eddie chuckles, and takes it from him, dropping his duffel at his feet. Then they both lean against the wall, and unwrap their sandwiches. The bread is a little fancier than store bought sliced white sandwich, but the concept is the same. Better, even, Steve hopes.

"Damn, this jam is good," Eddie says, licking some off his fingers, which Steve watches intently.

"I made it," Steve says, and he's showing off. He knows that. Trying to woo the cute dude with his jam making skills. He's gotta use what he's got. And kitchen skills are about it.

"Well, I'm impressed," and Steve feels his cheeks flush. He definitely wants to impress Eddie.

The next time Eddie has a set, Steve repeats the process. If it worked once, it's apt to work a second time, too.

When Steve walks into the corridor this time, Eddie has left open the door of the sparse dressing room they let him use.

"Hey! C'mon in," Eddie says, sitting on the couch, like he has nowhere else better to be. Lucky for Steve.

Steve hands over one of the sandwiches, and watches as Eddie unwraps it, and takes a big bite.

"Damn, these are grilled. I've never had anything like it," Eddie declares, grinning, patting the couch next to him. Urging Steve to sit, to stay.

Steve sits, getting a little drunk off Eddie's open palate and easy-flowing praise. He's got a praise kink, one that works even more when it's about his food being good. At least, when the compliments are falling out of Eddie's mouth, that is.

These sandwiches have bacon and caramelized onions. He was definitely trying to impress him by doing something different, something special, he can't lie to himself about that. Caramelizing onions takes a long time, nearly every recipe on earth lies about how long knowing a home cook won't do it if they have that information up front, but Eddie was worth the time he invested in the process.

Steve eats his own sandwich, splitting his attention between it and Eddie. With all the happy moaning and groaning he's doing on the other end of the couch, all Steve can think about is how fucking good it would be if Eddie would just press him back into the cushions.

He doesn't.

But they talk until Carl the night janitor pauses in the doorway, clearly surprised to find that he's not alone.

They take the hint and part ways, but Steve will ride the high of Eddie's presence for the rest of the night.

Two weeks later, Eddie's finally back on the schedule, but this time has his full band, and since Steve isn't sure where they actually stand with each other, he just stays in the kitchen. He doesn't want to embarrass Eddie or himself. For all he knows, Eddie has a family at home, and he's just the overly friendly casino cook that keeps feeding him and monopolizing his time.

Steve's wiping down his worktop when the door opens, Eddie peeking his head in.

And he's not alone.

"Eddie really talks your food up," the shortest one says, "I'm ready to be impressed."

"Gareth," Eddie warns, then meets Steve's eyes, "you don't have to cook for him, for any of us. Ignore him. I just wanted to say hey."

"Hey," Steve answers, and smiles, already turning the flat top back on. The one he just cleaned.

Steve will cook for them, he wants to. If he can win over Eddie's friends, well, that can only work in his favor, he supposes.

He goes out to the darkened dining room, and flips over chairs that were already balanced atop a four-top.

"Where's the menu?" Gareth asks, and Eddie cuffs him on the back of his head.

"You'll eat what he makes, got it?" Eddie asks, and Steve wants to kiss him. Eddie needs to work every table, every night, in charge of passing along that message to the rest of the customers. Steve would have a lot more fun if he did.

"Geez, fine," Gareth says, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Any allergies or anything?" Steve asks, and they all shake their heads, so Steve turns to head back to the kitchen.

Pushing through the swinging doors, he realizes Eddie's on his heels.

"Can I help?" Eddie asks.

"Sure," Steve says. He tosses him an onion, "Can you finely chop that up?"

"You betcha," Eddie answers, and Steve starts prepping the rest of the food.

When he looks over, the onion is being butchered. Massacred. It's a crime scene on the bench.

He laughs and walks over, a fresh onion in hand.

Then, Steve slides up behind Eddie, getting close, probably too close, but reaches around, and brushes the half of the onion Eddie's already chopped off to the side, "Here. Let me show you."

And Eddie nods, hair brushing Steve's cheek as Steve puts both of his arms around Eddie, and picks up the knife, "Leave the root on," he says, cutting the onion in half.

Then he slides one half around, "Let your knuckle be the guide. Don't cut your fingers off."

Eddie laughs, and Steve smiles. He smells good, and his hair is damp, so he must have showered after the show.

"Tip towards the root," Steve says, sliding the knife through the onion over and over, quickly, uniformly.

"Press it together," he instructs, doing just that, "slide it in halfway," he says, drawing out the words as he's making horizontal cuts, "and then squeeze it all together. Get a good grip on it."

He hears Eddie swallow. Literally hears his throat working, and Steve grins.

Turning the onion, he says, "And then, even strokes. Use the weight of the knife, feel it slide in and out, all the way to the root."

"Jesus Christ," Eddie mutters, and Steve laughs, delighted.

"You try the other half," Steve insists, and he puts his hand over Eddie's, helping him line everything up, and watches as he cuts it. It's not perfect. It's not fast. But it's ten times better than the original onion he was chopping up all willy-nilly.

Once it's all cut up, Steve takes a regrettable step backwards, "That's good. You did real good."

Eddie nods, rapidly.

"Want me to show you how to sauté them?"

"I'm not sure I'd survive it," Eddie admits, and Steve just grins, thankful they both appear to be on the exact same page.

Steve can feel Eddie's eyes on him as he plates each dish, careful with the presentation, even if he's absolutely certain not a one of them is gonna care about what it looks like. Still, he likes Eddie's attention and praise.

He hands two of the plates to Eddie, and carries the other three himself.

They all oh and ah, and Steve loves this part of cooking for people.

Eddie sits at the table with his friends, and Steve leans up against one of the high tops nearby, and settles in to eat. But Eddie has grabbed another chair from a nearby table, and scooted his own chair over, making room.

"Sit down," Eddie demands. Steve's used to being on his feet, used to eating standing up, but if Eddie wants him to sit, he'll sit.

"So, you're a band?" Steve asks, but nobody's paying attention to him, all too focused on their plates. He chooses to take it as a compliment, and not a slight.

Eddie's paying attention, though.

"Yeah, we haven't made it big or anything. That's why we play these gigs, to make ends meet, you know? But someday, maybe."

Steve nods. He gets it. You gotta start from the ground up. You don't just walk into a place and immediately become the head chef, or a famous band, he supposes. But they aren't young. Eddie seems close to his own age, and he feels bad for thinking it's probably not gonna happen for them if it hasn't by now. He doesn't know about the music industry, but he kind of feels like breaking into it is most often a young man's game.

"What kind of music do you play?" he asks, because he assumes it's not what they do here in the casino.

"Metal," Eddie answers with a grin, "we're Corroded Coffin."

Steve smiles. That seems right. It fits him better than covering the standards for the early bird seniors ever has.

Getting to spend a little time with Eddie is worth all the extra clean-up he's gonna have to repeat tonight.

Steve's bored. He's in a meeting with all the heads of department, and all he's thinking about is the prep he could be doing for tonight's dinner service instead.

The casino is hosting a charity event full of entertainment industry people to promote the soft opening of the new theater at the casino. They're hoping to get more acts, bigger acts, booked and they're dragging everybody out to wine and dine them. That means Steve is catering a charity event. He's done it before. But it'd be nice to be asked, instead of told.

There are three rich, old ladies holding court at the front of the room, talking ideas. He's uninterested. They'll give him a boring, basic menu and he'll follow it. That's how these things always go. He's well versed by now.

"And we're short a band, one of the opener's fell through," one of them says, "we've got feelers out. But if anyone has a connection, let us know."

Steve sits up straighter. He has a connection, and maybe getting Eddie and his band in a room full of industry insiders is just what they need.

He raises his hand.

It isn't until after he's made his pitch and left the meeting that he realizes he doesn't exactly have a way to get a hold of Eddie, unless he waits for him to be scheduled for the dinner theater stage.

He doesn't have that kind of time.

That's how he finds himself digging through the Rolodex on Gary's desk, Robin holding the flashlight, an accomplice.

"We're both gonna get fired," she whispers, and well, maybe. But he's not especially concerned. Who else are they gonna get to run their kitchen? It's not as if it's a highly sought after position.

Flipping the cards, he hopes that it's in here, because taking a number from a Rolodex sitting out in the open on a desk is far less creepy than picking the lock for the personnel file cabinet to find it.

Luckily, it's there.

"He's gonna be so weirded out that you dug up his number," Robin says, and Steve has thought about that. But he's trying to do Eddie a favor. Surely that's a good enough reason.

"Thanks, Rob. That makes me feel great about this decision."

She shrugs, "I'm just saying. He's gonna think you're a big creep."

Well, that's the risk he's gonna have to take.

Eddie doesn't seem to even question how or why Steve is able to call him, far too focused on the information Steve's just dumped all over him.

"We don't have a manager!" Eddie shouts on the other end of the phone, after Steve's given him the details on how they can book this event, probably pretty easily. The committee women had seemed very interested in having an easy fix, and Steve had offered them a very easy fix.

He didn't provide any additional information that they didn't explicitly ask of him. It's not like they said no to heavy metal, anyway.

"Just pretend to be your own manager," Steve says, that's what he'd do. "Talk your way into what you want. Lie."

"I can't just pretend to be our manager! They'll know I'm lying," Eddie shouts, "I'm a terrible liar!"

Steve smiles into the receiver, "It's gonna be fine. These old broads aren't gonna know or care about the music industry. They just know they need another band, and with the people they're gonna have in the room that night, I think you should be that band."

"Steve, I think this is a little bit above our level. Those are real bands, playing for real industry insiders. We're just a garage band. A bar band."

"You're good! I've heard you play."

"No, you haven't! You've only heard the bullshit we do at the casino. That's nothing like we really are. They'll hate us!"

"Who cares? Maybe somebody in the room won't? Maybe somebody will hear you and want to sign you!"

Eddie laughs, sounding a little hysterical, "Maybe I'll get fired! Ever think of that?"

Steve laughs. He thought this would be an easy sell. He had no idea Eddie was gonna be such a weird chicken about it.

This is only making him feel fonder.

Steve rolls his eyes, "Fine. I'll call them. How much do you want to make for it?"

"They're gonna pay us?!" Eddie shrieks.

"Well, I fucking hope so," Steve laughs. "I'll call them. Pretend I'm your manager, I guess. But I don't know what the going rates are. At least give me a ballpark quote. Can you at least do that?"

Eddie laughs, and Steve grabs a pen and notepad off his desk.

It was easy. They didn't even question him. And Eddie's ballpark was so low, it was ridiculous. So, Steve haggled for an even higher appearance fee than their first offer, just to see if he could. He did, and it wasn't even hard.

If he ever wants to leave the restaurant business, maybe he's got a career in being a band manager waiting for him. He laughs at the thought.

"They're gonna pay us what?!" Eddie asks, voice getting loud and high.

Steve just giggles into the phone, "You're welcome. Just get ready. Don't let your manager down."

Catering for two-fifty means Steve isn't gonna have the time to see much of Eddie's set, and that kind of sucks.

The theater is bustling with action, wheeling and dealing, schmoozing. Trying to make sure the millions of dollars they put into this expansion won't be for nothing. It's not a huge theater, it is off a casino, after all, but it's much bigger than the one off the dining room where Eddie usually plays.

They wanted a place where they could host all kinds of acts from different genres. Be the go-to spot in the community. So, tonight, they've put together a lineup to show what different acts could look like playing in the space. Eddie's band won't be out of place at all, just another option among many.

There's even a small ballet troupe, showcasing that they could put on The Nutcracker at Christmas.

Steve carries out a tray of stuffed mushrooms, looking for a server to hand them to, to swap out for an empty tray. Usually he'd wait in the kitchen for them to come to him, but he can't seem to keep himself from peeking, waiting to see if he'll get a glimpse of Eddie and Corroded Coffin.

Right now there's a young singer on the stage, just a girl and her guitar. She's brave, Steve's pretty sure. There are a few people paying close attention to her, but the room is mainly filled with the low hum of conversation. Steve worries that Eddie's gonna feel like this isn't what he signed up for, but it's too late now.

Chrissy sees him, and switches trays. There's one lone goat cheese stuffed date left on her tray. They are going through them at the exact pace he'd imagined, which is good. That means they aren't gonna get in the weeds before the dinner course.

"He hasn't played yet," she says, smiling knowingly. "I imagine my tray will need to be refilled the moment he does, though."

Steve squeezes her shoulder, and smiles at her, before heading back to the kitchen. If she's gonna give him the heads up, he can get back to work until then. He just hopes it's not when the sit down service starts. He'll definitely not have time to linger around watching if that's the case.

Steve's checking on all his held dishes, making sure they aren't deteriorating, when Chrissy is suddenly at his shoulder.

"He's going on," she says, and picks up a tray of pigs in the blanket.

"Thanks," he says, looking at his watch. He only has about twelve minutes before he has to supervise plating the mains.

But he pushes out of the kitchen and walks across the floor, and slides into the back of the theater. Trying not to stand out in the sea of fancy clothes in his white jacket, inevitable stains on the front.

The first thing he notices is that Eddie isn't at the mic, Jeff is. When they start playing, he realizes he'd always just assumed that Eddie was their singer, but he's not. He's off to the side, digging deep on a gorgeous, sharp-looking guitar with a red and black finish.

They sound good, and Eddie looks good. Really good. He's in leather pants, and Steve's not sure he was prepared for that. He watches, listening to them, eyes trained on Eddie as his hand moves up and down the frets.

When Robin appears at his side, he knows he's stayed longer than he'd planned.

"Sorry," he says, looking down at her, "he's good."

She nods, but he knows she's just concerned with getting the food out the door.

He follows her back across the casino floor, the machines chiming and ringing out as players keep feeding their hard-earned money into them.

"Just ask him out," Robin says, as they turn the corner towards the hallway to the kitchen.

Steve just shakes his head. Eddie's never acted that interested, at least not enough to ask Steve out himself, so Steve's held back, too. It's been nice to have a friend, even if half of their interactions feel sexually charged. At least to Steve.

The onion. He thinks of the onion.

He's probably delusional.

"Did you see him up there? He doesn't want me," Steve says, holding out his hands, his burn-scarred arms. He's a nobody. A chef at a medium-sized casino because he couldn't handle the stress of a big city kitchen. He can cook at that level, he knows that, but he couldn't handle all the other stress and drama that came with it.

He's headed down, Eddie's headed up. It'll never work.

"Steve. Stop being a dingus. He wants you," Robin says, pushing open the swinging door to the kitchen, and the discussion is over. They've got work to do.

Steve is leaned all the way back in his office chair, feet up, a glass of scotch resting on his knee. His feet are killing him, and he's absolutely certain he wasn't paid enough for the extra work that tonight entailed. There was talk of a bonus, but until it's in his hand, he's not counting his chickens before they hatch.

The kitchen is dark, everybody long gone, every last dish done. He runs a tight ship, he doesn't want anybody having to stay longer than he does, not even the dishwashers, so he makes sure nothing piles up. Even if that means he has to help do them himself once his other work is caught up. Being a team player matters. He doesn't want to be the kind of head chef that stands around and yells at everyone. That's what drove him out of the impressive big city kitchen he'd worked so hard to earn his way into, only to find out he couldn't actually hack it.

He hears the door to the kitchen swing open, and then closed, assuming Robin's here to collect him.

It's not Robin.

Eddie appears in the doorway, and Steve smiles.

"You guys were good, what little I got to see," Steve says, and Eddie strides over, leaning down. Sliding his hand behind Steve's neck, pulling him into a kiss.

Steve's surprised, but kisses him back. Trying to keep from toppling all the way backwards to the floor.

When Eddie pulls back from the kiss, he's smiling, "I think we have interest, real interest, from a label. Thank you."

"I didn't do it, you did," Steve says, pulling his feet down off his desk, moving to stand. He's stiff. He feels twenty years older than he is.

He puts his glass down on the desk, and leads Eddie back through the kitchen. The only thing running is one of the warmers, and he pulls out a plate. Eddie reaches for it, and pulls his hand back, "Goddamn, that's hot. How did you just touch that with your bare hands?"

Steve laughs, "Time and experience. Calluses."

"I've got some of those from years of playing the guitar, but they must not be in the right places," Eddie laughs, blowing on his fingers.

Steve uses his foot to drag over a stool, and pushes Eddie down onto it. He'd saved a little bit of everything he could back for Eddie, on the off-chance that he'd show up after he was done playing. This late, he'd assumed he was long gone.

"We had a meeting, and like, we need to get a manager—"

"—what am I? Chopped liver?"

Eddie laughs, "A real manager. An agent. A lawyer, something, but I think we're gonna get offered a deal. A little deal, I'm sure. But a deal. A chance."

"That's great, Eddie. I'm so proud of you."

"You were the first person I wanted to tell," Eddie admits, his big brown eyes looking right into Steve's, and Steve knows he's so far gone on this man that he may never recover.

Steve rests his hand on Eddie's shoulder.

"Are we finally gonna do this thing? You and me?" Eddie asks, reaching up, covering Steve's hand with his own. Thumb brushing against his scarred skin. "I'm tired of tiptoeing around it. Tired of wanting, of waiting, and not having."

Steve's tired, too. Maybe it won't work. Maybe Eddie will leave town with his band, never to be seen again. But for now? Steve wants this. Wants him, wants all of him for as long as he can have him.

"Fuck yes, we are. Eat up, you're gonna need your energy for what I have planned for you tonight."

Eddie grins, a wicked expression, as he picks up his fork and starts shoveling it into his mouth, only pausing to praise Steve's cooking.

Steve wraps his arms around Eddie's neck from behind, leaning down, hugging him as he eats and talks. He's unsure of what will happen in the future for them, he can't know that. Life changes all the time. What you thought you'd be, you aren't. Where you thought you'd live, you don't.

But Steve's absolutely certain that whatever happens tonight is another major fork in the road, and one that will change his whole goddamn life.

And if you want to write your own, or see more entries in this pop-up, check out @corrodedcoffinfest to see other entries for the May Mayhem Bingo Event! And don't forget to head over to @steddiebingo - you still have time to sign up for card two!

#corrodedcoffinfest: may mayhem bingo #steddiebingo2025 #corrodedcoffinfest #steddiebingo #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie ficlet #stranger things #thisapplepielife: corrodedcoffinfest #thisapplepielife: steddiebingo #thisapplepielife: short fic #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #corroded coffin fic #platonic stobin #steddie #stobin #robin buckley

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imaginary-eddie · 3 months ago

Text

Mike rambling on and on about how he doesn't think steve is good enough for him and he told him so and Eddie being like "dammit Wheeler, he hasn't talked to me in a week!?" All screechy as he runs off. And then appears in Steve's yard with a boom box blasting 'You're the One That I Want' from the Grease sound track.

(really Steve didn't give a hoot what lil wheeler had to say because he also said the same thing about Eddie, he just has the flu)

(Everytime Eddie tried to call the house or see him Robin would be there, unhelpfully, rambling out "he can't talk right now!" While trying not to burn the soup and grilled cheese she's making him)

(Eddie went to the kiddos afraid he'd unknowingly triggered alternate dimension trauma, but they were unhelpful so this was his plan b)

(it works, they kiss, and then Steve is left taking care of Eddie when he gets the flu)

(Robin uses her flu to get some attention from Nance)

#the thought of eddie in steves yard with a boombox was enough to make me laugh but then with the song choice i had to write this thought #LMAOOOOO #this made me laugh in my head #please tell me im funny #established steddie #steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #eddie and steve #platonic stobin #mike wheeler being unhelpful #lowkey ronance if you squint #steddie drabble #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #da boys

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sevenmerrymagpies · 4 months ago

Text

Potato Chip

Happy Valentine's Day to the couple walking back to their place tonight carrying bags of potato chips. You inspired me.

Steve gets Eddie the wrong Valentine's Day gift.

Smoking weed and blow jobs under the cut.

Potato Chip

It probably wasn't the best time to ask, but Steve was baked, and no one here would care. It wasn't like they all didn't know already, anyway. Steve was already pressed against Eddie, from his little toe all the way up his leg and hip, tangling their arms together and bumping shoulders as they wrestled for space on the couch together.

Eddie toked and held the blunt for Steve, who obliged by taking his own toke, before he leaned over Steve - grabbing a grope with his hidden hand - as he passed the blunt to Argyle. As Eddie withdrew, Steve whispered, "What do you wanna do for Valentine's Day."

It was a bad time to ask, and like a month out, but Steve hadn't celebrated a Valentine's Day with a dude before, and he was kind of excited about it. Plus, this was his first Valentine's Day since 1984, which didn't make him feel kind of pathetic. He always had a date, but fuck if a second date with a girl who could barely stand him but wanted to see if the rumors about his big dick were true was only one step up from being single. And only because he got laid.

So, it didn't matter if it was a bad time to ask. What mattered was that it was on his mind, and he was too stoned to think it through.

Eddie, though, Eddie was maybe just too stoned. "Potato chip."

"What?" Steve asked. If Eddie wanted potato chips, he could do that, but he wasn't sure exactly what that meant?

"What?" Eddie asked as if he finally realized Steve was talking to him.

"What?" Jon asked from where he was lying on the floor.

"Who?" Argyle laughed. "I've heard this sketch before."

Nancy giggled from where she was lying down between Argyle, who was half-draped on the couch, and Jon on the floor. "Who."

"Like an owl," Argyle agreed before he started hooting like an owl.

"Doctor?" Robin asked at the same time.

"Oh, Will watches that on PBS," Jon said.

Argyle continued to hoot.

"I think this conversation is going over my head," Steve admitted.

"I'm hungry," Eddie said. "I'm raiding the kitchen."

"Bring back chips," Robin called out over Argyle, Jon, and Nancy, hooting at each other.

"Yeah, duh."

+++

Steve only realized as he was walking with Eddie into his house that perhaps, just maybe, he should have asked again. Or thought about it more?

"I brought the good stuff," Eddie said as he kicked off his shoes before he wandered into the house towards the den.

"The good stuff?" Steve asked, not really paying attention because he was suddenly very unsure about his plans for their evening.

"California weed from Argyle?" Eddie asked, turning around.

"Is that a question?"

"It is now, I thought the plan was to get high, make out, and crash here? I already let Wayne know I'm staying the night? I thought the plan was I'm bringing the weed, and you were supplying the lube?"

"Did we talk about this?" Steve asked worried that he was starting to forget whole conversations. Maybe Robin was right, and those concussions really were going to have a lasting impact on his brain.

"Uh, of course-"Eddie trailed off as his eyes widened. "Uh, I thought that- But now I'm thinking about it, I'm pretty sure my thoughts stayed thoughts, and I never answered your question?"

"My question?"

"What I wanted to do for Valentine's Day. You asked, like, last month."

"You told me this?"

"I'm not so sure that I did."

"Because you told me something, but-"

"I told you something?"

"Uh, why don't you come into the kitchen and see for yourself?"

Eddie blinked a few times before he dashed off to the kitchen, Steve scrambling to keep up behind him.

"What the?" Eddie shouted as Steve rounded the corner to the kitchen.

"Surprise!" Steve tried to bring enthusiasm to his voice, but he was seriously doubting himself right now.

"What is all this?" Eddie asked, gesturing to the kitchen island.

Steve had decked out the island with three large bowls of chips. One plain, one sour cream and chive (Eddie's favorite), and the final was a crinkle cut. Steve had prevaricated on that choice a lot. Should he get a third flavor like BBQ? Or should it all be plain chips to compliment the dips? But not getting Eddie his favorite wasn't a good idea. So he compromised and got Eddie's favorite and two plain ones in different textures.

God, he probably overthought something so stupid.

He'd also made a handful of dips. Onion dip, of course. Then there was a homemade ranch he made with buttermilk - he now had so much buttermilk in his fridge that he had to figure out how to finish. There was a veggie dip that Robin really liked. It was green and almost like having a vegetable. Healthyish. Then, finally, there was millionaire dip - an old family favorite with bacon, cheddar, and chive.

"Uh. Ta-da!" Steve said, his voice fading. "Potato chip feast!"

"Is this for us?"

"Technically, it's for you because you asked for potato chips?"

"Potato chips?" Eddie said, finally turning to Steve and stalking towards him.

"You said, and I quote, 'potato chip'."

"Nothing about lube?" Eddie asked, getting up in Steve's space and pushing him back into the hallway wall.

"Uh, nope. I mean, I have some upstairs, but I didn't get anything special."

"You just got me-"

"Potato chip. Yup."

Eddie's confused expression broke like dawn as he loomed over Steve, slumped against the wall, looking up at his boyfriend. "You made me a potato chip feast because I was so high that I told you 'potato chip' and didn't tell you what I actually wanted?"

Steve sighed. "I know I should have-"

"Shhh, shhh, shhh," Eddie said as he held up his finger against Steve's lips. "This is amazing, and I'm getting the feeling that you don't realize how amazing it is."

"But this isn't even-"

"No, this is better. We can get shit-faced and feast. No, wait. We can fuck and then get shit-faced and feast." Eddie said as he lowered himself to his knees.

"Uh," Steve said, still not having caught up with Eddie. It didn't matter, though, because Eddie pulled out Steve's half-hard dick and swallowed it down. "Oh, shit."

Eddie hummed as he worked his mouth up and down Steve's rapidly hardening shaft.

"I guess," Steve breathed out and worked to keep his hips still. "You like your gift."

Eddie's response was to pull Steve's balls out and fondle them, which always made Steve's knees melt.

"Fuck, Eddie."

Eddie didn't respond; he just kept sucking Steve's brain out of his dick until he couldn't think straight. He didn't last long, couldn't like this. Steve came with a grunt, and Eddie swallowed every last drop.

Steve was still stupid from how quickly Eddie had worked him over. Eddie tucked Steve back in his pants before he stood up and kissed Steve. A hint of the bleachy taste of his spunk was on Eddie's lips. Shit, did that get him going.

"Let's take this upstairs, huh?" Eddie said. "You got that lube, right?"

"Yeah," Steve breathed out, letting Eddie drag him upstairs. "Yeah, I have lube."

"And the dips will keep?"

Steve blinked. "Uh, for a bit. Sure."

"Cool. I don't think I'm gonna last long tonight, anyway. We can do something more elaborate tomorrow. Now let's go celebrate Valentine's Day."

#steddie #steddie fic #stranger things #stranger things fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #valentine's day #my fic #st

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roanniom · 2 years ago

Note

eddie telling you to behave out in public when you keep whispering things into his ear😵‍💫😵‍💫 plz i need him biblically

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, public teasing, sexual themes, Eddie has to bowl with an erection lol

“You look delicious in those jeans. Have I told you that?” you whisper, breath hot on his ear and fingers curling around his bicep as you lean close to make the comment. Eddie rolls his eyes and places a firm hand on your thigh.

“You’re playing with fire here, princess. You know that.”

That crash of a bowling ball knocking into pins should rattle you from your horniness, but you’re too distracted by the cut of Eddie’s jaw to really notice. You lean up and place a coquettish kiss to the angle of said jaw, sliding your hand from his bicep to his chest.

“What if I like fire? What if I want to make you sweat,” you mumble into his skin. Your shared friends are too busy hooting and hollering over Steve’s strike to notice the inappropriate way you’re loving on your boyfriend in such a public space.

“We’ll mission accomplished then, babe,” Eddie says with a chuckle. His hand squeezes your thigh and goes to move, but you slap yours down on top of it, pushing it up, just under the hem of your skirt.

“Fuck me in the bathroom then, if I got you so hot.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Eddie groans. He looks up to see if anyone has noticed the way you’ve gotten him so worked up, but thankfully everyone has moved on to watching Robin prance toward the lane like a baby deer.

Eddie turns back to you, taking in your hazy eyes and the way you bite your lip. Your proposition is no joke. You really do want him to fuck you in the dirty bathroom of the Hawkins bowling. By the way you’re looking like you want to eat him whole, you’d probably even blow him if he asked, knees on the dirty tile floor and his cock so far down your throat he’d see stars.

Eddie has to take a deep breath to stop these thoughts from overwhelming him. Before he could decide what to do with you, Steve calls out to him.

“Munson! Stop eye fucking your girl, it’s your turn.”

Eddie’s head whips around to find all of his friends staring at him, a collection of amused and annoyed faces among them. He swallows hard and stands up, but his eyes shoot to you when he hears you giggle.

“Hope your turn isn’t too hard for you, Eds,” you say, staring pointedly at the erection starting to strain the front of his jeans.

“Oh fucking…” Eddie scrubs a hand over his face in exasperation. He palms himself shamelessly to keep himself tucked in his waistband, still facing you and away from his friends. You bite your lip again and look up at him with a smug expression on your face.

Eddie lightly grips your chin and lifts it up towards him, speaking low so only you can hear him.

“Behave. And maybe I’ll fuck you.”

“Maybe?” you ask with a pout. He leans down and kisses that pout before walking over to grab his bowling ball.

~*~

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson thots #eddie munson Drabble #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #issa’s flying morning

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zoldsick · 10 months ago

Text

Kings and Jesters

♕ summary: zoro x f!reader - a silly game on the Thousand Sunny causes Zoro to confront his feelings about their newest member. Based on my original bullet point HC here.

♕ tags: fluff, first kiss, sfw

♕ wordcount: ~2.2k

♕ read on AO3

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Zoro was drunk. He needed to think and therefore was on his second bottle of hard liquor. He always did his best thinking when he was drunk, right?

Zoro thought long and hard about you. What was it about you? Why did he keep feeling himself drawn to you? Whatever it was, he was done letting you in so carelessly. He would not let you invade his mind. He had decided whatever he was feeling was most definitely not romantic feelings. He was sure of it. He would make sure of it.

After coming to this decision he continued to sit back on the bird's nest and enjoy his drink, all the while he desperately tried to tune out the charades taking place on the main deck. One voice in particular, he begged to stop hearing.

…

It was a silly drinking game.

You were the one who introduced this game to the Strawhat crew, and everyone was having a blast. The game involved drinking, stupid challenges, and inconsequential punishments. Everything a silly party game needs.

After you introduced the game to the Strawhat crew, they picked it up in stride. The game was called “King” and it involved competing in a handful of goofy challenges in which the winner of each round was crowned the King and the rest of the losers had to drink. The King was then allowed to penalize one of the losers by implementing a punishment- which was usually making them complete some sort of dare. Additionally, to add incentive, Nami decided she would be collecting a “Cowards Fee” on anyone who didn’t want to complete their dare. Suffice to say, everyone was going through with them.

In other words, it was a fast, fun way to get wasted.

The Sunny was sailing into an autumn climate and the air was chilly. You were grateful for the fireplace Franky had built as you felt the gentle breeze glide along your back. You smiled as you watched Sanji bring out a tray of marshmallows towards Chopper, who perked up at the idea of sweets. The moon was nearly full and everyone had finally settled around the fireplace living off of the alcoholic buzz and comradery that the game created. Well, almost everyone.

Sanji cried out in anguish as the whole crew choked on their laughter. Franky was the previous winner and had declared that Sanji would be punished by eating a bite of a dangerously spicy pepper he had picked up on a previous island. It was not a pretty sight.

They had all come up with pretty good punishments this round. Usopp was forced to hold a spider that Robin found under the deck, Luffy was punished by Usopp, who dared him to jump into the ocean—given that Usopp would rescue him shortly after— and sweet Chopper made Robin give him a head massage behind his ears. Of course, Robin didn’t think this was much of a punishment, and happily scratched Chopper's head.

“I WIN!” Nami shouted, jumping up and looking devilishly at the crew. Who knew Nami would be so good at card games?

Nami peered around at the crew grinning as she thought about what punishment would bring the most entertainment.

“Pick me Nami ~” Sanji said, earning an eye roll from the orange haired girl. “Punish me please ~” She ignored his begging, but this did give her an idea. She suddenly turned towards you. You flinched under her mischievous gaze. You had been spared all night and now had a bad feeling it was about to become your turn. Just as predicted, her finger shot out and pointed straight at you.

“Y/N. Don’t get cocky because you’re new on this ship. Stand up!”

You got up from your seated position chuckling nervously at Nami’s antics. You doubted she would give you something too terrible, she’s been very protective of you since you boarded the Sunny. The Strawhats all cheered as you walked over to Nami, hooting and hollering for a good punishment.

Nami slapped her hand across your shoulders, “Alright, Y/N. As a guest on this ship you must show your gratitude to the crew! I demand you give one of our crewmates a kiss! I’ll even be nice and let you choose who, though I think the answer is easy enough.” Nami said, batting her eyelashes at you.

Your eyes widened, mouth agape, you couldn’t find the words to respond. You could feel your ears turn red as the whole crew exploded in excitement. Sanji went comatose.

“Nami… I don’t know about this.” You complained, “I don't know if I’m comfortable with a …kiss.”

“What’s wrong? Too many good options?” Shouted out Franky, “Choose me! I’ll definitely make it SUPER!”

“It’s just a small kiss. No need to read into it,” said Robin.

Sanji, staggered to his feet, “Y/N, I would be honored if you chose me as a representative of this ship, to bestow a k-k-kis-” he stopped to cover his nose as a jet of blood shot from it and he collapsed back again.

Luffy protested, “But I’m the Captain! I’m the representative of the ship!”

“Luffy, do you really want Y/N to kiss you?” questioned Usopp.

“What? No. I’m just sayin’ I’m the Captain!”

“SO! Y/N, who is it going to be?” Nami interrupted, stopping the crew from getting too off-topic.

“Guys, I really don’t know about this. It’s not really something I’m, particularly… experienced in.” You beg your face to stop changing colors but feel your cheeks betraying you.

“What do you mean?” Robin pressed, “Have you ever kissed anyone?”

You desperately try to avoid eye contact. “Uh…”

The deck of the Sunny suddenly went silent and you felt your embarrassment deepen even more. Suddenly everyone exploded in astonishment and reinvigorated competition.

“Oh. My. God.” Nami couldn’t believe it, “This changes everything. ALRIGHT EVERYONE! This is now a competition to see who deserves to receive Y/N’s first kiss!”

…

Zoro’s drunken brooding was interrupted by shouts and arguing. He shifted from where he sat, the shouts weren’t in fear or danger, but emotions were definitely high. Luffy’s laugh pierced through the yells. What the hell are those idiots doing?

Zoro stood up and stumbled a little, suddenly feeling the liquor working through his veins. Zoro descended the birdnest’s ladder and staggered towards the main deck. As he turned the corner an odd scene appeared before him. Zoro couldn’t quite make out what the argument was about, but he heard everyone shouting over each other.

“I’m the one who initiated the dare in the first place! So I’m the obvious choice here! It’s only fair!” screamed Nami, pulling hard on Usopp’s ear who yelped out in pain.

“Oh yeah?” Usopp winced, “Well I was the best kisser in all of Syrup Village! It should be me!”

“That’s nice, but if we are basing this on experience, the older members should be at the top of the list. Right, Franky?” Robin asserted.

“RRRRRRRRRIGHT AS ALWAYS, ROBIN!” Franky posed showing off his muscles, “Y/N! Robin and I are obviously the best choices!”

Sanji was incoherent, struggling to stop his still bleeding nose. All that could be heard was a pathetic beg, “Please… Please… Y/N’s first… Please…”

Luffy and Chopper sat back laughing at the whole crew, uninterested in the prize and stuffing their cheeks with marshmallows.

“What the hell is goin’ on here?” Zoro said gruffly.

You jumped slightly. You were so focused on the chaos that was taking place in front of you that you didn’t notice Zoro walking up.

“Oh, Zoro. Uh… We were playing a game and…” You struggled to get the words out.

Zoro waited, watching you squirm with cheeks flushed. This is unfair.

You launched into a story, something about a game and a punishment, but Zoro wasn’t following. He was just staring, watching the way your lips formed each word. One might say he was distracted. Thankfully, he tuned back in to hear the conclusion.

“- and so now everyone is arguing about who’s going to get my… first kiss. I guess. It’s all so dumb, I just want this to be over with.” you said burying your face in your hands as you heard Nami smack Sanji’s head back down after he had finally gotten back up.

“They’re what?” Zoro finally comprehended the implications of this punishment. Y/N’s first kiss…

“I know, I don’t know how to get out of this. Nami will probably bleed my pockets dry if I bail out. Probably best to just choose someone and get it over with.” You peeked out of your hands up at him. You were getting redder by the second.

Zoro looked at the brawling party and then back to you. His chest hurt.

“First kiss, how stupid.” he mumbled.

“I know! That’s what I’m trying to tell everyo--”

There was a crash and suddenly Zoro’s hands were gripping your face, and before you could process it, his lips were crashing into yours.

It was nothing like you imagined your first kiss would go. It was clumsy and he tasted like liquor. One of his hands gripped your jaw and the other tangled in your hair. You could barely keep up with his pace. One of your hands gripped his shirt and the other gripped his arm to ground yourself. His tongue was gliding over yours forcefully, you squeeked at the unfamiliar sensation, which only seemed to encourage Zoro.

It only lasted around 10 seconds, but when Zoro finally broke the kiss you couldn’t move. Your whole body felt like jelly. His face hovered close to yours, eyes barely open, as if he couldn’t decide whether or not to continue. He suddenly took a long step back, clearing his throat and touching his mouth with his fingers.

All members of the Strawhat crew were staring, mouths wide open. Zoro’s bottle of liquor was still spilling out from where he dropped it.

There was a beat, then the crew fell into disarray.

Zoro ignored the ruckus happening next to him and struggled to look down at you. He shouldn’t have done that. He finally mustered up the courage to look at you and noticed you were an alarming shade of red. If steam started coming out of your ears he wouldn’t be surprised. Your mouth hung slightly open, lips slightly swollen from his rough kiss, he could tell you were struggling to register what had just happened. He froze as you looked up at him.

It was like he got punched in the gut. You were incredibly flustered, your eyes slightly watery, and your hair disheveled. His breath hitched. God, what did I just do?

He quickly looked away, struggling to maintain his composure. Trying to look anywhere besides you. Seeing you this flustered after a simple kiss was not going to help his current crisis. Suddenly a sob broke through the noise and Zoro turned to see who it was coming from.

Sanji was on the floor crying, looking straight at Zoro, “How… HOW COULD YOU! YOU BEAST!”

He jumped up, joined by all the other competitors for your first kiss. Chopper knocked down Zoro’s legs and he fell onto his stomach, Usopp jumped on his back and grabbed his hair, yanking it back and yelling back, “How was that fair, you jerk!”

Sanji took advantage of the fallen Zoro and got a few weak kicks in, still wiping the tears from his eyes. He can’t even speak, he’s too furious, seeing Zoro kiss a woman was the nail on his mental coffin. Luffy can’t stop laughing.

“They’re RIGHT Zo-Bro,” Franky says, twisting his arm to engage his weapons-left, “I never heard the lady give her permission.”

“Hey! Argh! Stop it! What’s the big deal? It’s just a first kiss! I’ve never done that before either, it’s nothing!”

There was a second pause while everyone took in this new information. Robin, unaware she was about to rub salt in wounds, spoke up, "So, you’re each other's first kiss?"

Zoro struggled against his crew and managed to look at you. The second you make eye contact neither of you could hold back the blush that made its way across your cheeks and up to your ears.

The crew bursts into hysterics once again.

Unable to withstand the attention and incapable of processing everything that just happened, you turned around and ran off into the women’s bunks. Gotta cool my head, gotta cool my head, gotta cool my head— What was that?!

The crew watched as you retreated, then got in a few more blows to berate and beat Zoro. After a while everyone felt satisfied that Zoro had been appropriately punished, and left him alone. But Zoro didn’t move, he stayed facedown on the lawn of the Sunny, defeated. He was in time out, trying to think about his actions.

He heard Usopp goofing around with Luffy and Chopper, bragging about how he alone managed to defeat the feared pirate hunter Zoro. Sanji had also dragged himself away sniffling, leaving to make the crew some hot cocoa before bed per Chopper’s request. Finally the deck was silent once again.

Zoro finally sat up, looking down at his own hands, “She didn’t need to run off like that, it’s not a big deal.” He spoke out loud, still trying to convince his crew, but mostly himself.

Just then, Robin sprouted a hand from his back and slapped him on top of the head.

He looked up at Robin in disbelief, “Not your best move, Swordsman,” she said from a distance and walked away.

It’s possible that Zoro does not do his best thinking when he is drunk.

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author's notes: hope that was a little more fun than the original bullet points. this was originally in a much longer slow-burn story that I decided to ditch, so it's been written for awhile. I might just post the fun parts of that story and edit them to make sense as a one-shot. As always thanks to @nanpecan for editing, go read her nanami fic, it rulez

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kickbackkanzaki · 4 months ago

Text

The Dungeon Master and Chess Queen

You're the new student and chess captain at Hawkins High. When Eddie Munson asks you for tutoring you're certain you have him handled but you may have underestimated his strategy.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Warnings: Smut (18+), drinking, oral (fem receiving), intercourse (p in v), swearing, possessive/toxic traits, rough sex.

"Is it just my imagination," one of your customers asked as you passed her a wrapped book. "Or do they seem to stop women from writing more than men?"

"It's not your imagination," Robin told her. "Men are terrified by women with original thought."

"Especially when they write better," Max added.

"Anyone who reads Margaret Atwood feels threatened," you pointed out as you slipped the money out of sight. "That woman can critique society better than any old Ivy League man while spinning an entertaining tale. The woman's powerful."

"I still want a copy of Ender's Game," your customer told you then began to leave.

It was lunchtime at Hawkins High and you were conducting trade while the cafeteria monitor kept an eye out for thrown food and fist fights.

"I'm waiting on my supplier I'll be in touch," you answered and someone else approached your table.

Someone who didn't read.

"Hey I heard you and Munson were getting it on in the back of your shitty Mustang after school yesterday," Georgia from the cheer team sneered when you noticed her.

You'd never done anything to antagonize Georgia but she figured you were easy pickings for a popular bully like her. A chess nerd with straight As dating the school freak - you didn't have a leg to stand on.

"That Mustang has done less miles than your pussy," you shot back. "The tyres aren't as bald either."

Robin and Max laughed into their lunch and you watched Georgia gawk with some satisfaction. You had learned young to always answer a taunt as it proved you weren't afraid of where it came from.

"You can't say that to me!" Georgia screeched and gained a few more onlookers from other tables.

"Go home and brush your teeth your breath smells of dick," you said now bored and a table of good looking boys erupted into laughter.

Georgia had neither the quick wit or intelligence to counter that so she fell back on a classic popular girl threat.

"My boyfriend is going to mess you up!"

"Your shitbag boyfriend is busy under the bleachers eating out Meredith from the soccer squad," you told her matter of factly and Georgia's eyes grew round with horror. "Come on, you didn't really think he was getting chem tutoring at lunch did you?"

Georgia called you a name you'd heard many times before then ran out the cafeteria as the boys hooted.

"Is that true?" Max asked feeling uncomfortable by the vivid depiction of sexual depravity.

"Apparently," you said with an indifferent shrug. "The soft cock was boasting about it to Eddie last week during a business deal."

"You upset the hierarchy when you burn the bullies like that," Robin said wisely as she ate her pretzels.

She loved the way you eviscerated low IQ miscreants but she did worry about possible reprisals. There was still most of a year to endure before the two of you were free of Hawkins High.

"A cheerleader uniform doesn't give you a bitch pass," you stated unconcerned. "If Georgia wants to discuss things further I'll have a go. Hierarchy be damned."

"Where did you learn to say all that stuff?" Max asked.

As much as Max liked her older friend she had to admit some of what you said was downright disgusting and doubted it came from the literature you read.

"I was at boarding school for ten years," you explained. "I know every derisive word for genitals, the A to Zs of STDs and all the things a creative girl can fashion into a phallus. I promise you, those pornos where the drifter arrives at a girl's school full of blushing virgins are total fiction."

"I'm glad we're co-ed," Robin said for the first time ever and balled up her empty pretzel bag.

"Me too. It's way easier to look smart with boys around," you agreed and made Max smile.

As if on cue your favourite boy suddenly appeared and sat down next to you.

"We got trouble baby," he said frantically taking your hands.

"Did you get busted?" you asked in a worried hush and shot the cafeteria monitor a cautious glance.

"Kinda," Eddie answered cryptically. "Wayne knows about us."

"As in your Uncle Wayne?" you asked allowing your voice to return to normal volume.

So long as neither of you were going to spend the night in lock up on distribution charges it was fine for your friends to hear Eddie's risible stories.

"Yeah. I don't know he found out! I was getting my sheets out the dryer and -"

"Oh."

All three females exclaimed at once in mutual understanding.

"Hang on what?" Eddie's panicked spiel derailed from confusion. "Why'd you all say 'Oh' like that?"

"That was the give away," Robin explained. "Boys don't launder their own sheets unless they have something to hide. They'll roll around in their crusty mess for months before their mothers wash them."

"It's different with girls?"

Eddie felt like he'd stumbled onto a gender based conspiracy and was getting schooled.

"Our monthly bloodbaths don't keep business hours," you said tastelessly. "Early morning linen washes aren't unusual for us."

That had never occurred to Eddie but he had to admit it made sense now why the puritan lady at the checkout had given him a filthy glare when he'd bought a new flat sheet and laundry detergent in the one transaction.

"Anyway what's the problem with your uncle knowing?" you asked as you finally got a chance to eat your sandwich. "I didn't get you pregnant did I?"

Your friends sniggered but Eddie let it slide. He knew they laughed amiably unlike the jocks who preyed on his club.

"He wants you to come around for dinner this week," Eddie grumbled and ran his hands through his tangled hair in frustration.

"Ok," you said after a bite of sandwich. "Tonight I'm watching a movie at Max's and tomorrow's chess club but I can come after tutoring Thursday? Or Friday? Whatever suits."

"Really? You'll come?" Eddie stopped tugging his hair and looked at you in disbelief.

He'd assumed this would upset you but you were completely unphased. With conventional couples meeting the parents was seen as a milestone, one that cemented your commitment and hinted at a possible combined future.

As you two were aberrant individuals Eddie had predicted you'd scatter at something proper like family dinner.

"Why not? I suppose it makes sense, we've been hanging out for a while now. My Dad knows about you," you said pragmatically as you finished the sandwich and broke your chocolate bar in half.

"How?" Eddie asked in alarm and halted his reach for the offered treat.

"I told him doofus," you said and laughed with your friends again.

"What did he say?"

"Not a lot," you replied with a shrug. "He made me a reading list of Romantic poets and now buys me condoms when he gets his script filled."

You then turned to your lunch mates and added, "If you ladies need any let me know, I now have enough rubbers to get me to menopause."

"Gross."

"I wouldn't want to slow you down."

You engaged both middle fingers so you could flip your friends off in unison then turned back to your boyfriend.

"Tell Wayne I'd be delighted," you said and kissed Eddie on the cheek. "Now return to your flock shepherd I have censored literature to sell."

That night Wayne called Eddie from work to check which night he had to swap shifts so he could cook for the two of you. Eddie told him Friday and when the night arrived he came outside to meet you at the Mustang.

Eddie looked you over appraisingly as you climbed out the driver's seat and wolf whistled. You'd worn one of your nicer dresses with a floral pattern and had gone easy on the eyeliner in case Wayne suspected you leaned into heavier pastimes.

"Someone's pretty," Eddie sang and took a tupperware from your hands.

"Hello shit-stirrer," you said affectionately with a smile and kissed him on the mouth.

You made it a good kiss because it was likely the only one you'd get tonight being on your best behaviour.

When you walked in the trailer you nearly commented on how tidy it was but stopped last minute. You didn't want to let slip just how often you hung out there.

All week Eddie has been telling you how much of a crusty old curmudgeon his uncle was but you actually found Wayne quite pleasant.

He shook your hand, complimented your dress and didn't use any of the condescending pet names blokes his age often gave young women.

You asked about his job, his football team and his car, three things that could get any straight white man talking.

Wayne thanked you for the cake and was only a little surprised to hear your dad had baked it. That scored points with you as he didn't use that detail to lead into the more interesting things he'd heard about your dad.

Wayne had prepared the only meal he knew how to cook - steak with a three vegetable salad.

You gave appropriate thanks and gratefully accepted the diet soda he bought especially for you even though it wasn't your preferred beverage.

Eddie sat next to you and brushed your thigh gently under the table, the first touch since you'd come inside.

Usually by now the two of you would be in a state of undress or cuddled up in Eddie's room decompressing after surviving another day of small town banality.

But tonight you were abiding by the rules of polite society so kept your hands to yourselves.

"Eddie tells me you like chess," Wayne began after you'd taken a few bites of dinner.

"Understatement," Eddie muttered and received a poke from you under the table.

"I do," you answered enthusiastically. "I brought my board in case you wanted to play."

"Eddie played for a while in elementary school but I've never gotten the hang of it" Wayne confessed and took a sip of beer. "Too many darn rules to remember."

"There's a lot to learn, you need patience."

This was generally what you said when people labelled chess as too difficult. It stopped them from thinking you were pretentious or the game elitist.

"So I take it your mother's passed on?"

The sudden intrusiveness of the question after such a casual one made both you and Eddie stop chewing.

Not one person had broached that subject since you'd moved to Hawkins. The classic nuclear family was dying out so people usually accepted your single parent situation as it was.

"She was alive the last anyone heard," was the politest way you could put it after mulling the question over for a minute.

Eddie shot Wayne a warning look and the subject changed.

"So was it your father who taught you chess?" Wayne wisely returned to a safe topic.

"No, we had a heap of board games in the rec room at school and I was curious about the chess sets," you told him conversationally. "I signed up for a weekly chess club to learn the rules and it grew from there."

People always assumed there was a mysterious, romantic history to your passion but it had honestly begun the same as any other hobby. You'd found something you liked and applied yourself to get better at it.

The rest of the meal went smoothly with casual conversation and Eddie stole the light a few times so you wouldn't feel hot under Wayne's scrutiny.

After dinner you served the Black Forrest Cake then Wayne left the two of you to play chess at the table while he caught the end of a match on TV.

You moved a knight into place and seeing his defeat Eddie let his head fall on the table theatrically.

"That is mate," you said and smiled at his pitiful wails of defeat.

"I thought I was doing well," Eddie whined.

"You were! You made me chase you for a while there," you gave some constructive feedback to comfort him and leant back in your chair.

Eddie hated to lose but he would have hated you throwing the game more. Maybe it was time for you to sit in on a campaign and see the Dungeon Master in his element since you'd spent over an hour thrashing him.

"Let's me express my inner torment with music," Eddie said standing up with a defeatist sigh. "My room awaits."

"Might want to think of heading home," Wayne chipped in from the couch and turned the TV down.

"It's Friday night," Eddie protested.

"Don't want your dad worrying," Wayne went on as if he hadn't heard his nephew. "You two can catch up tomorrow."

"You're probably right," you conceded way too easily and Eddie's suspicion was aroused. "Thank you for dinner Mr Munson I had a lovely time."

You exchanged a few more pleasantries and had Eddie walk you to the Mustang where you shared the plan. He watched you drive out the park then went inside where Wayne had returned to his viewing.

Eddie subtly swiped a beer from the fridge then said something about listening to music before closing his bedroom door. Beer can now in his vest he threw on an Iron Maiden tape and jumped out the window.

The evening was a little chill but he would warm up once he got to his destination and the beer was inside him.

Creeping past the trailers of Friday night homebodies like a Hawkins version of Boo Radley Eddie heard snippets of televisions, stereos and domestic arguments as he hiked up the hill behind the park to the old playground.

The Mustang's headlights flashed when he was close and he heard you close the driver's door. You retrieved the lantern you keep in the boot for night time breakdowns and switched it on giving Eddie a guide to you.

"Uggh! I feel so wholesome and middle class!" Eddie yelled and threw his arms around you.

"You did well," you laughed as he lifted and spun you around. "Keep this up and you can take me to the prom."

"Can we park at Lover's Lake after?" he asked after planting a kiss on your mouth.

"Before and after," you said temptingly and pulled the beer out his pocket.

"That's my bad girl!" he cried and slapped your arse as you walked to the picnic area together.

You sat yourself up on the table while Eddie took the bench, seating himself between your feet so he could rest his head on your lap.

"What the hell was this evening about?" Eddie moaned as you stroked his hair and took a swing of beer.

You passed him the can and explained everything in your most patient voice.

"Your sweet uncle, who loves you, was just making sure you hadn't been ensnared by a harpy with wide legs and deep claws. He was worried I might be setting my sights on trapping you in early fatherhood and criminal enterprise."

"He thinks I'm that stupid?" Eddie made an injured face after a swing of beer.

"He knows you're young," you assured him. "Let the old man fuss, it means he cares."

"Well if it matters to you I think you passed darlin'," Eddie decided you were right and took another mouthful of beer.

"It'll make things easier going forward," you conceded.

Ever the gentleman Eddie let you finish the beer and returned his head to you lap where you stroked his wild locks.

Eddie enjoyed the attention for a few minutes then raised the hem of your dress and pressed his lips against the inside of your leg.

"What?" he asked when you didn't react.

It was hard to see your expression in the lamplight but your lack of response meant something was wrong.

"I need to tell you something."

"Oh no, no, no, no sentence starting with that ends well," Eddie now sat up straight and clutched at your dress. "What did I do?"

"Nothing!" you said quickly realising your blunder. "I just need you to know something but I didn't want to tell you before because it might scare you off. It's a little heavy."

"Are you in trouble baby?"

The genuine concern in Eddie's voice made your heart swell and you wanted to pull him close. He was sweeter than you deserved.

"Nothing like that it's just something Wayne asked that got me thinking."

"If he's upset you I'll go back and tell him."

"It's ok Eddie. It's about my mum."

"She left, it's ok," Eddie was quick to reassure you and hugged your knees. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want, I understand."

"No, well yes, she did leave I mean," you rambled because you might reconsider if you hesitated. "When I was five Dad was sectioned for the first time. Pretty soon after Mum decided single parenting wasn't for her so got herself a divorce and surrendered custody of me to a girls' home. I haven't seen her since."

Eddie didn't reply and his stiff form in the darkness gained a forebodingness like a nightmare figure. It was unlike him not to react animatedly to shocking news and his stillness unnerved you.

You could hear the crickets chirping in the grass and spoke again to break the unsettling quiet.

"I say it was a boarding school because it sounds less tragic. I don't miss her, she made her choice. It's not important but I wanted you to know so you don't think I've been dishonest."

Eddie released his grip around your legs and you went cold with dread. He had reached his limit with your mess and was walking away.

Suddenly warmth came back to your skin as Eddie put his hands on you cheeks and gave you a long, slow kiss.

"This changes nothing baby," he only pulled away far enough to talk. "I'm always gonna adore you. My mother hasn't seen me in six years and not called in three. I say to hell with both of them."

You groped in the dark until you found Eddie's shoulders and latched onto him like a lifeline. For a few terrifying seconds you had been adrift and helpless in the dark without his stalwart support.

It took some time holding him before you could talk again, now certain he wouldn't leave.

"I don't mean to trauma dump on you I just want there to be more between us than witty repartee and sex."

"There is darling. So much more."

You released Eddie slowly and exhaled the anxiety you'd been holding in your chest. A steak dinner with family had turned out to be far more emotional than you'd anticipated.

Eddie slipped his hands under you knees then tugged so hard you fell backwards. The cute ballet flats you'd been wearing flew off as your little feet kicked the air and your eyes were suddenly full of stars dotting the night sky.

"What are you doing?" you giggled as Eddie's hot breath tickled you under your dress.

He looked like a kid stuck in a sleeping bag as he moved around under your dress and you laughed at your own compromising position. Flat on your back with a boy between your legs.

Eddie worked his fingers under your panty line and shimmied them down your hips. You made a noise of surprise but allowed Eddie to move your legs until the garment was stripped and thrown over his shoulder.

"Hey," you said with mild annoyance to see your good underwear discarded but forgot it a second later.

His strong, warm tongue licking your vaginal opening roused a sensation in you so strong your body arched with a gasp.

Good authority had told you this wasn't something straight guys would do willingly so you struggled to comprehend what was happening.

You had assumed the practice would be sloppy and vulgar but Eddie used his mouth with as much delicacy as he did with his hands. His lips on your opening had the pressure of an intimate kiss and his tongue stroked your inner folds with a velvet touch.

Your fingers fluttered to your lips like a scandalised damsel and you stared at the sky with your mouth open in silent excitement.

The unique caress thrilled you in a new way and your brain didn't know the right response.

So you lay there helpless in your pleasure.

The tip of Eddie's tongue brushed something deep that elicited a meek "Oh" from your open lips and he took the encouragement. You were such a wet mix of fluids that his mouth glid across your vagina effortlessly and he took your bud in his mouth.

The nerves in your clitoris awoke like thunder in a gathering storm and your voice returned to express your assent. Eddie ran his hands tenderly over your thighs and backside to stimulate your cooling skin and titillated your bud with the tip of his tongue gently.

It the time you two had been intimate Eddie had learned to discount everything he'd heard third hand about sex and listen to you instead. You weren't shy to express your enjoyment and your reactions were the best guide to achieving mutual pleasure.

You were breathing in short, sharp gasps of sweet shock but Eddie knew the sound you made when you were close. He let his mouth melt deeper onto you and began to suck your bud hungrily.

The shift in technique threw you into fourth gear and you could feel your body rushing to climax. Usually your orgasms built slowly, the reward for patient penetrative lovemaking but this time it erupted like a flare igniting your lower body.

You gave a groan of relief like you'd been holding back a dam and felt the orgasmic energy spill from your waist to water your thirsty body.

Feebly you tried to reach for Eddie as you pinned for his touch but he still had you tilted so your grasp fell short. Eddie then pulled himself out of your dress and wiped his mouth ungraciously on the back of his hand to watch you recover.

In the dark you couldn't see his flushed face or his genuine surprise at his success. There was more guesswork in sex than he'd ever realised.

He could see your middle rising and falling as your ecstasy rush settled and he lowered your legs back onto the table. His fingers stayed firmly round your ankles however as he struggled internally with his good reason and his libido.

You could hear the question he wouldn't voice and had the same sense of incompleteness. Eddie's attentions had given you splendour but they'd also prepared you for more and your lower muscles ached for it.

"Do it Eddie I'm soaked for you."

Without hesitance Eddie pulled a condom from his back pocket and you heard his fly open. There was a small crinkling sound then you were roughly pulled towards him by your legs.

You could imagine his rock hard cock straining against the latex and your chest expanded with an excited inhale.

His length slipped into you easily and you let out a satisfied moan. The sensual orgasm had been bliss but the base physicality of being filled with his thick cock made you horny in a primal way.

Most times you made love but sometimes like now you simply fucked. After hours of upstanding behaviour you had to wash the genteel polish off with a bath of sweat and cum.

You surrendered totally letting Eddie manhandle your legs as he slammed into you. There would be bruises on your thighs tomorrow but right now the pain didn't register.

In the lamplight Eddie could see your breasts bounce with every pound and he longed to climb up on the table and rip your dress open. He could imagine the tight mounds breaking into gooseflesh from the evening air and how the tiny bumps would melt under his hot tongue.

But there was no time to ravish the rest of you, he was close to coming and this position was too perfect to compromise. Your cunt was practically a river soaking his groin and every time you arched your abdomen it would tighten on his cock pulling him closer to release.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Eddie grunted in time with his thrusts but your only reply were the shy gasps that escaped each time his tip hit your core.

He wanted to fuck everything out of you until only he was left. Obliterate the sweet facade you'd worn at dinner and the lonely girl abandoned by her mother. Fuck you until you were so full of him no one could claim a piece of you.

It was raw, possessive and toxic but Eddie didn't care. You were his and he's was branding you for the world to know it.

"Eddie!"

You hadn't expected a second orgasm. Honestly you didn't think they could happen, that it was something magazines had made up to entertain rarely serviced housewives.

You screamed this time, the extreme sensation on your already ravished body was too much and you couldn't stay quiet.

Your body spasmed and Eddie released his own orgasm with a growl. He pitched forward and clenched your hips with a bruising force as hot pleasure rushed through his cock and pooled in the sheath.

The two of you panted out of time in a collapsed bundle and began to notice how far the temperature had dropped.

Suddenly self conscious you looked around to see the park lights glowing down the hill and listened for anyone approaching. Someone out for a stroll or a sneaky cigarette might think to investigate the animalistic cries coming from the playground.

"You're a bad girl," Eddie groaned exhaustedly when his breathing steadied.

"Me?" you lifted your head off the picnic table and felt Eddie slowly move out of you. "You started this Munson."

"You invited me up here," Eddie rebutted and you heard a synthetic flicking sound in the dark.

You knew Eddie had shot the tied condom across the picnic area and you had an unpleasant image of a small child finding it tomorrow along with your underwear.

"I wanted to talk," you said in your defense and sat up.

"This is how all our evening talks finish."

"Unless you pass out watching Miami Vice."

"One time baby."

"Come up here and hug me," you held your arms out and decided to quit the banter. You were cold now and you wanted your boyfriend to wrap you up for a little while before you drove home.

Eddie gave no argument and climbed on the table beside you. You were still buzzing from your double high and snuggled in tight smelling his sweat and deodorant.

"That was a good fuck Eddie."

It wasn't what the poets would have said but it was true.

Eddie kissed you on the head and tried to pat your loose hair back into a respectable form before admitting that was impossible.

"I like making you happy baby," he said and linked his fingers with yours.

You stayed nestled together on the bench watching the trailer lights below and Eddie realised for the first time how small they looked.

He'd outgrown this suburb of budget building materials and knew now he could leave it. Since he'd met you his scope had widened to see past Senior year and Tuesday night gigs at the Hideout.

There wouldn't be much to pack besides his guitar and he didn't have a destination in mind but one thing was certain.

You were coming with him.

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lvmimis · 1 month ago

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cw: tarot and fortunetelling. otherwise fluff with a touch of angst.

“Just so you know, I’m only doing this for you.”

Luffy stops his stride just as he ends the statement, punctuating its seriousness. You too find yourself coming to a stop, and are suddenly hyperaware of how firmly, and yet not so tight, he’s holding your hand.

You purse your lips for a moment, deciding whether to go for a playful tone or to meet his demeanor. Luffy is rarely serious, and you can tell choosing this moment to be serious means you might be asking a bit too much from him, so you decide to match his energy.

“I know.” You smile at him, widely. “Thank you.”

He watches you for a moment carefully, then purses his lips as well. You can see annoyance dissipate gently from his features as he raises your hand in his along with the other one as he stretches his limbs towards the sky, letting out a yawn.

It’s late morning and this port city is already bustling with movement. Breakfast sits in your belly comfortably, and you’re satisfied, even if a poor brunch spot you just frequented may have just gone out of business courtesy of their AYCE tourist deal. Gone are the times that you would truly dwell on that sort of misfortune - always prepare for the worst, even if it’s just a young man with a huge appetite - but even as you think this, you plan to ask Nami how well your coffers are doing if you eventually feel compelled to donate some money surreptitiously on the back end.

You and your crew plan to stay on this particular island for a few more days, and in your explorations yesterday, had chanced upon a fortune teller.

She’s by appointment only for long readings, especially when it comes to couples and other types of specific fortunes. As you brought it up to the crew yesterday, Zoro of course was quick to suggest that she were probably a quack, but you could tell by the look in her eye that she had seen much, did not need much, and couldn’t be arsed to spend her time tricking people with educated guesses and other forms of social engineering. Sanji knew where you were going before you even said the words and unfortunately so did Chopper who shook his head.

“This will only worsen your anxiety,” he protests, but you’re not to be convinced of anything else.

“I won’t ask about the future,” you promise him. “Just…” you pause as you glance over at Luffy, who’s entertaining himself with an impromptu game of cat’s cradle with his own fingers, “compatibility.” Your face warms, and then you quickly add, “You guys should come with me.”

Brook lets out an entertained hoot while Nami grimaces.

“I’ll pass,” she whispers. “Got some scamming to do.”

Robin smiles but you can tell it’s a no, and Zoro laughs loudly before walking off. Usopp looks curious, but Franky pulls him away to work on a new gadget for the ship, and Jimbei is nowhere to be found.

Sanji leans in close and hands you a slip of paper, on which you read -

If things don’t look good, you always can run to me. <3

You sigh, crumpling it up and throwing it at him, and he laughs, just as Zoro did and leaves. Luffy finally looks up from where he’s seated, and glances at you.

He’s giving you that same, soul-reading look now.

“If she says something you don’t want to hear, what are you going to do?” he asks in an even tone.

You blink and shrug, but he’s not satisfied with that answer clearly. You realize the longer you look at him, that it’s not nonchalance, or refusal to think about the future, or even lack of curiosity, it’s the fact that he’s worried about what you tend to do with information, about how you let negative things seep into the crevices of your gray matter and distort what’s plain to see in front of you.

“Nothing, I just want to know,” you reply.

“You already know I like you.”

There’s another pause in the air as if things around you reach a stand still, and it’s just the two of you, once again locked into a quiet conflict of ideas.

Luffy is not a fan of this at all, you realize. He’s just been patient about it, which is already an enormous feat for him, someone who indulges his own desires more than anyone else you’ve ever known.

You don’t have a good reply for him immediately. Your appointment will be at the top of the hour, and the fortune teller will lay out a spread of cards for you and decide if you’ve made a correct decision in loving each other.

And she’s rumored to be accurate. Extremely so.

Suddenly you’re not sure you want to go, sweat forming on the surface of your palms.

“We can go back to the ship,” you murmur. Luffy raises an eyebrow, then shakes his head.

“No, we’re getting this over with.”

But he doesn’t tug you forward. You re-steady your step, renewing your resolve.

Maybe the hand in yours is wrong for you, and what will you do if so?

Luffy can hear your heart falter somehow, so tuned he is to the incessant beat in your chest, just in time with his.

“My feelings won’t change,” he reminds you. “No matter what she says.”

You want to say it’s the same for you.

“If you ever want to go, don’t use this as a reason.”

Your heart aches.

“Luffy…”

The firm grip on your hand is even tighter, not because he’s worried about losing you, but because your hands are starting to slip, and if you don’t get a move on, you’re going to be late.

—

In a dimly lit tent, shielded from the brightness and overlying warmth of the sun, a young woman with hair the tone of midnight and a business-like demeanor sits across from you and spreads cards face down on the table, a mystique to her as potent as the incense gently wafting through the air.

You hold your breath and Luffy holds your hand. He doesn’t look away from you the entire time she speaks. She notices, and her lips curl catlike in quiet amusement.

But to Luffy, the words don’t matter. You’re his, as long as he wills it so.

As long as you will it so, too.

#luffy x reader #monkey d. luffy x reader #daydreams: op #mimi's notes #lumimi

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chibinasuu · 9 months ago

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Captain's Seat | Luffy x Reader

Part of the Thousand Sunny Slice-of-Life Series

Find the other parts with the rest of the Straw Hats here

Summary: You checked up on the Captain, who had been sitting on his favorite seat for hours as he tried to get the first glimpse of an oncoming island Word count: 1.2k Tags: one-shot, fluff, domestic bliss onboard the sunny, platonic straw hat pirates x reader, main pairing could be interpreted as platonic or romantic, no use of y/n, GN but written with F!Reader in mind

a/n: here it is, the final fic of the thousand sunny slice-of-life series, featuring our beloved captain!! i wanna say thank you to everyone who has been following along, and a warm welcome to everyone who’s seeing this series for the first time! without further ado, please enjoy!

“This is boooring,” Luffy whined from his perch on the Sunny’s railing, one hand limply holding a fishing pole.

The water today was calm, and the weather was sunny, but not too hot. That is to say, it was a perfect morning for fishing. But, it had also been two weeks since the last time the Straw Hats set foot on solid ground, so you could understand why your Captain was bored out of his mind.

“It hasn’t even been ten minutes, Captain.” You chuckled as you looked up at him. You were leaning against the railing next to Luffy, a fishing pole of your own gripped between your fingers.

“But no fish is biting!” He pouted, resting his chin on top of his hand.

“Have some patience, Luffy.” You chided him, though a smile was still present on your face. Knowing full well how his brain works, you wittily added, “Don’t you want some grilled fish for lunch? Or sashimi? Maybe some fish and chips? I’m sure Sanji will make something delicious with our catch.”

Luffy’s eyes practically sparkled at the mention of food, and his focus returned to his fishing pole with renewed vigor. You smiled to yourself, nothing motivated your Captain more than a promise of a good old feast.

“And get down from there, will you?” you told him, eyeing his precarious position on the thin railing, “I’m not fishing you out if you fall overboard.”

“That’s alright!” Luffy laughed cheekily, “Zoro will get me!”

You sighed, knowing that he was absolutely correct.

Today’s catch ended up being an octopus, some mackerels, and a giant tuna, which was so massive that it actually managed to drag Luffy into the ocean. Zoro immediately jumped after him of course, just like Luffy said he would, and successfully wrangled the tuna onboard with him too.

Sanji was ecstatic to see the tuna and proceeded to expertly filet the fish, treating the crew to a fresh sashimi platter before cooking the rest of it for lunch.

The meal that followed was a buffet of seafood delicacies – Sanji’s specialty – and by the end of it, everyone was so full that no one seemed to have the willpower to get up from the dining table.

“Oh, right!” Nami suddenly spoke up, “We’ve entered an island’s climate, by the looks of the weather, so we should make landfall…”

Nami’s sentence was cut short by Luffy’s excited whoop. He immediately leaped up from his chair and charged outside, looking back only to thank Sanji for the meal. You could hear the Captain hooting with joy as he ran to the front of the ship, singing the word “adventure” over and over to a random tune of his own making.

The orange-haired girl heaved a long sigh, “I was saying that we may be making landfall in a few days. The island won’t even come into view until tomorrow, at least.”

Robin let out a soft giggle, “Let him be, Nami. You know how excited he always gets whenever we’re approaching a new island.”

The crew returned to their respective activities after lunch. Franky and Usopp were holed up in their workshops, while Zoro was training in the crow’s nest. Nami was in the library, readying her mapmaking tools to chart the new island and the seas surrounding it. Robin was keeping her company, deeply engrossed in a book.

You helped Sanji wash the dishes and clean up the dining room, before asking him for pieces of vegetables to feed the Straw Hats’ resident transponder snails. The little creatures usually just sleep a lot, so it was always fascinating to see their round eyes widen at the sight of some fresh greens.

A couple of hours passed before you noticed that Luffy had yet to come down from his spot at the figurehead. Now that your chores are finished, you figured it was a good time as any to go check up on him.

“Hey, Captain!” You called out from the bottom of the stairs leading up to the lion’s head, “Mind if I join you?”

Luffy whipped his head around at your voice, yelling out your name excitedly. His lips formed a sly grin, and your eyes widened as you belatedly realized what he was up to, “Luffy, don’t you dare!”

There was nothing you could do as Luffy’s arm stretched out, wrapped several times around your waist, and snatched you off the deck. You crashed into him, both of you struggling to maintain your balance on the curved figurehead.

Once you were safely seated next to him, you playfully swatted his arm, “I could’ve just used the stairs, you know. Did you want to fall into the ocean for the second time today?”

He only scratched his head and laughed maniacally, “My bad!”

Luffy’s eyes returned to the horizon, eager to catch the first glimpse of the island, which, according to Nami, won’t even appear until tomorrow.

You said teasingly, “How come you can stay up here for hours but get bored with only ten minutes of fishing?”

“Hmm,” He seriously considered, before nodding decisively, “Because the view is way better from here.”

You laughed, “We’re in the middle of the ocean, Luffy. The view is practically the same from anywhere on the ship!”

“Nope!” He insisted, “Here is better.”

You could only chuckle, “If you say so, Captain.”

After a few minutes, Luffy’s knees started bouncing in excitement, “I wonder what kind of adventure we’ll have on this next island! Do you think there's gonna be a jungle? A desert? A crowded town? Ah, I can’t wait to taste the food there too!”

“Looking at our track record so far, there will probably also be trouble waiting for us, huh?” You said in jest, nudging him with your shoulder.

“Well, whatever the trouble, I’m not worried one bit.” He gave you a wide grin, “After all, I have you guys with me!”

Luffy put both his hands in front of his face and counted off on his fingers, “I have you, Zoro, Nami, Usopp, Sanji, Chopper, Robin, Franky, Brook, and Jinbe. We always made it through together somehow, don’t we? So, we can just keep doing what we do until we reach the end of the Grand Line!”

You nodded in agreement, your heart filled anew with joy and gratitude for this little family of yours – this little band of misfits who had somehow found each other amid this wide, wide ocean.

Your Captain was uncharacteristically solemn for a moment before he proclaimed, “Then, I’m going to become the King of the Pirates!”

He had said the exact same thing thousands of times before, but the conviction in his voice never wavered.

“You will.” You replied with equal confidence, not a shadow of doubt in your mind.

“And you all are gonna be there by my side when I do.” Luffy said, not as a question or even a Captain’s order, just a statement that you both knew would come true.

You took his hand and intertwined your fingers with his, “Of course we will.”

With that signature laugh of his, he took off his treasured hat and placed it firmly on top of your head, “Y'know, I’m glad you joined my crew!”

“Well, you didn’t exactly give me a choice!” You joked, recalling how he wouldn’t take no for an answer when he first invited you to join the Straw Hat Pirates. You leaned your head against his and squeezed his hand, “But, I’m really glad I’m here too.”

You sat side-by-side with Luffy for hours after that, eyes on the horizon, awaiting the stage for your next adventure to come into sight.

Maybe your Captain was right, the view really did seem better from up here.

a/n: aaahh it’s over! thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed that! this series may have come to an end, but i’d love to write some more of these slice-of-life stories if someone requested it, so if you have ideas/scenarios featuring any of the straw hats, you are more than welcome to slide into my askbox or dm!

Find the other parts with the rest of the Straw Hats here

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werepuppy-steve · 1 year ago

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married steddie but they don't live a super lavish life. they're dirt poor, living in a small house at the end of a dead end road that they rent off one of wayne's buddies. steve's a manager at walmart along with robin. eddie's main job is welding but he also does tattooing on the side, so they host a lot of tattoo parties for their friends every other weekend.

there's music and beer and laughing. eddie always asks steve, "you want a new one, baby?" bc all of steve's tattoos have been done by eddie. he won’t let anyone else near him with a gun. eddie doesn’t give him giant ones, only ones that take up a small-ish patch of skin.

inevitably, there's always teasing from their friends. "we gotta pay for ours, how come you ain't charging him, huh?"

to which steve answers, after snagging eddie's beer from his hand and taking a swig and winking, "oh, don't worry, i'll pay him later tonight."

their friends hoot and holler at eddie's flustered grin as steve smacks a kiss to his cheek.

#eddie's payment is steve dragging him to their bedroom and sucking his dick while their friends are still in the living room #they fuck a lil too and that gets them even more teasing when they come back all flushed and sweaty #cj talks #steddie #married steddie #kinda wanna make a verse about this #trans steve letting eddie fuck his pussy on the couch in front of everyone #theyre not allowed to touch him #only watch as eddie spreads him open and makes him sing so pretty on his cock

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sleepy-with-the-stars · 19 days ago

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Big ol subsystem made for comfort <3

sorry for slow everything, on vacation until the 15th <3 So glad I got the chance to work on n post this my signal & wifi has been awful out here </3

Pierce / Rebz / Platform / Mania / Manic / Blush / Heart / Horror she/slit/emo/care/plush/weird/luv

Emoblinkiegender Livingplushgender Transfem

18 [] Caretaker Self Expression Holder [] Vampire / Kemonomimi

Medi / Razor / Mixxie / X / Ex / Ribz / Gutz / Mute / Robin / Robbie shx/it/thing/fake/no/non/not/blood/hate

Bandbloodaidic Goregender Girlthing

21 [] Medic Therapist Sh holder BPD holder [] Human / Thing

Eye / See / All / Sight Mutt / Wolfe/ Gnaw / Snarl / Blind / Whip eye/X/it/0/!!/??/mine/scale/scab

Fluffdeceitgender Eldritchbodiment GenderNull

00 [] Protector Gatekeeper Informant Soother [] no.

Void / Retch / Wreck / Cross / Metalic / Sophie / Tooth / Voided no/it/he/she/shx/hx/fxck/anti/athen/venom/void

Lovebite Dulcreepic Slutgender Genderfluid

N/A [] sx alter hypersexuality holder obsession holder [] Void

Odin / Skull / Dear / Renna / Rosa / Hoot / Owl / Antler / Moth they/scar/bind/skull/deer/soap/sun/set

Transfem Enby Faunthing

24/00 [] Soother Infogatherer Gatekeeper [] deity

Skella / Coat / Rain / Rayne / Reina / Lacey / Stump / Log she/they/shine/rain/ray/leaf/beam

Girl

4 [] Younger Sister Figure Liittle Ogreglator [] skullkid

Coonie / Rac / Badger / Bandit / Panda / Scape / Leafy they/fur/eye/trash/garb

Enby

14 [] Middle Naturalist Therian [] Raccoon / Human

Skull / Kidd / Bull / Rex / Arby / Boot / Cuff / Jack / Jax he/skel/skull/emo/loser

Trans man

17 [] Inner Teen Internet User Blogger Watcher [] Skullkid

#build a headspace #build a headmate #create an alter #bah #headmate;#creator packs;#build an alter #bah blog #alter packs #create a system #plural system #create a headmate #alter creation #headmate creation #subsystem pack

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bimrwolf · 1 year ago

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Let's Meet in the Middle

steve harrington x afab!reader words: 8,603 warnings: ermmm for once no smoot and not edited LMAO im lazy anyways summary: Secretly yearning for your friend and no one notices is a blessing and curse at the same time. a/n: oh boyyyyyyy i havent wrote in ages. im a lil rusty lmao

The twinkling milky stars stretched across the deep pool of midnight, casting an illuminating glow over Sugar Maple Park. It was the only park nestled in the small town of Hawkins. Four swings, a merry-go-round, and a jungle gym. In the corner there was a soon-to-be skateboard ramp under construction.

You were laying on top of a wooden table, legs dangling over the edge, arms crossed over your stomach, and eyes closed. The crickets sang their summer song and from a distance you could hear an owl hooting. The sweet smells of maple and pine made you feel at peace.

There was the sound of tires dragging against the loose gravel, pulling into the small parking area, headlights glaring. And although your eyes were closed, the bright light made you squint. The car turned off and the doors opened. The engine running had been replaced with arguing voices.

“I’m telling you, Michaelangelo is far superior than Leonardo. His abilities are out of this world.”

“Dude, not only is Leonardo smart but he is the most disciplined and trained. Thus, making him the best.”

Their footsteps made a crunch sound, getting louder as they approached you. You sat up, a little sad that the peace was over, but that didn’t stop you from greeting the two strangers– who were not really strangers– with a big smile. Steve and Robin continued their argument as Robin hopped on top of the table next to you, throwing her arm over your shoulder. Steve stood in front of you two, hands on his hips.

“Are we seriously arguing over Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, again?” You had rolled your eyes, but couldn’t deny that you were intrigued with what they both had to say. You nudged your foot against Steve’s leg. “I would think that nerd shit wouldn’t interest you.”

Steve huffed. “Mutant Ninja Turtles is not nerdy. It’s badass.”

You and Robin shared a laugh. You knew she didn’t actually care for the show, but she loved to piss off Steve as much as she could. “Did you bring it or did I sit out here for ten minutes for nothing?”

Steve looked over at Robin, giving her a pointed look, letting her know that the conversation was not over. Robin rummaged into the breast pocket on her shirt, pulling out a nicely packed joint. “Eddie promised us it isn’t the cheap shit this time.”

Steve threw a lighter towards you to light it. Robin was the one to take the first hit, then you, and finally Steve. “When will I ever get to meet this Eddie Munson?”

They gave each other another look. The same look you had seen them give each other for five months since you had moved to Hawkins. The look full of secrets, too afraid to put you on it. Because what if it was too much? Or maybe because you wouldn’t understand. Either way you respected their decisions not to share whatever it was.

You had met Robin and Steve your second day in Hawkins. Your father had been hired to help rebuild the town after a massive earthquake. Everything about the town seemed shady. It wasn’t just Steve and Robin who hid the secrets of the town. It was everyone.

You should be upset. Agitated. Furious. But you weren’t. Well, to be honest, at first you were a bit irritated with the hushed whispers, but the more you got to know the duo, you realized it wasn’t to exclude you or to be mean. It was to protect you.

And maybe the secret that bubbled inside you made up for it.

You tried not to stare too long at Steve’s pink lips as he took a drag of the joint. The way he licked his bottom lip after he blew the trail of smoke out, sighing loudly. “Tough day?” You didn’t mean to make it aware that you were watching him. That you were paying attention. But like always, no one seemed to notice that your question was deeper than just a check-in. You quickly averted your gaze to the joint that had found its way back to you.

“He’s had to work doubles all week because this guy Martin has mono.” Robin answered for him.

“He’s lucky.” Steve grumbled. “The time off part, not the mono.”

Robin elbowed you. “He’s lying. He’s so touched starved. He complained for an hour that he wished he had mono because it meant that he was actually–”

“Okay, Robin. I think she gets it.” Steve grabbed the joint from your hand, fingers brushing against yours. Did you just imagine him pausing, looking at you endearingly? Must have because he turned away and walked to the swing sets.

“Aw man, he could have at least left the jay with us.” Robin frowned, leaning back, elbows holding herself up. “Don’t mind him. He’s been in a pissy mood since Esther Clark called him a geek when he asked her out last week.”

“I didn’t know he was crushing on anyone.” You hoped you didn’t sound jealous. “I mean, because he doesn’t really talk to me about that sort of thing.” Nice save, you thought.

But Robin didn’t seem to notice the waver in your voice. “Steve likes anyone with long hair and boobs.” She looked over at you, eyeing you from top to bottom. “Surprised he hasn’t made a pass at you yet.”

You awkwardly laughed, eyes wide, and looked over to make sure Steve was still moping on the swingset. “Yeah, like that would ever happen. Me and him would… ha… it’s hilarious just thinking about it. He’s totally not my type.”

Robin shrugged. “That’s what I love about you. The one girl who isn’t my friend to get to Steve.”

You smiled weakly, looking at your fidgeting hands, something you always did when you weren’t exactly telling the truth. You had only lived in Hawkins for eight months, but it only took three for you to wake up in the middle of the night and realize you felt more for the brown haired boy. No one had caught onto you either, keeping it quiet, going on dates with random boys you didn’t care about.

Robin grabbed your hand and dragged you towards the swing sets, letting go to plop in the one right next to Steve. She leaned over to lay her head on his shoulder. You felt a pang of jealousy on how easy it was for them to be friends. How they could put an arm around the other without it being weird or romantic.

Whenever Steve even looked in your direction your whole world spun.

You kicked the mulch, hugging yourself, softly laughing at a joke that Robin and Steve really only understood. Pretending was so much easier.

***

Eddie Munson was erratic, eccentric, obnoxious, but probably the most real and down to earth guy you had met. He was hilarious, making your friends laugh more than you had ever seen them laugh.

Robin and Steve finally orchestrated a get together that involved Eddie Munson. Steve picked Robin and you up, and drove about ten minutes out of city limits, pulling up to a small cabin in the middle of nowhere. You couldn’t help but feel your heart race. This was Robin and Steve’s evil plan all along. They spent these past months getting you comfortable when really they were trying to kill you.

But then a man burst through. His hair was short and curly. You could see scars run up his face. It was clear he had a story, but that didn’t seem to matter from the huge, cheesy grin on his face. “My my my. Thought you guys weren’t gonna come.”

Steve had his window rolled down, and you could see him roll his eyes when you glanced at him in the rearview mirror. “Can you just get in? Don’t want to get you back past your curfew.”

It confused you. By the look of Eddie, he looked well past the age to still have a curfew.

Eddie blew out a raspberry, picked up a bag on the ground and strode over to the car. He must have not realized you were there until he approached the back door, brows furrowed when he saw you. You quickly scooted to the other side, thinking you were most likely in his usual spot.

Eddie didn’t say anything as he opened the door and got in, throwing his bag on the floorboard. Or at least, never said anything to question your existence. He threw his head back and sighed. “Thank god you guys called me. My uncle was trying to convince me to help him with what to wear to his date tonight.” He rubbed his face.

“No way, Wayne has a hot date tonight?” Robin turned to face him, a big smile on her face. “Is it JoAnn from Dolli’s? I’ve been telling him for months he should ask her out.”

Eddie chuckled. “Yeah, he stayed with her until the diner closed one night, and she calls him almost every day.” Eddie leaned over and patted Steve on his shoulder. “Sorry man. I bet it’s hard hearing that my fifty-something-year-old Uncle is getting more action than you.”

Steve let out a sarcastic laugh. You swore he glanced into the rearview mirror and looked at you. But his gaze left as quick as it came. You couldn’t help but look away, flustered.

It was then Eddie finally acknowledged you. “And you must be the fair maiden that my friends have been spending so much time with.” He had a warm smile across his face.

You told him your name, holding out your hand. He took it. “Name’s Eddie Munson. You can just call me Eds, or even good-looking if you want.”

You let out a laugh that sounded more like a cackle.

Robin reached over and his leg. “Put your dick back in your pants, dude. This is why we don’t introduce you to strangers.”

Eddie seemed to have a permanent cheesy grin on his face. “Can you blame me? I’ve been on house arrest for almost a year. When I see a pretty girl, it’s pretty much an insult not to make a move.” He looked over at you. “Don’t worry, won’t do it again. I just didn’t realize when Steve said you were pretty he actually meant it.”

You felt that flustered heat rise up again. Pretty. Steve thought you were pretty? You couldn’t react. You couldn’t let anyone know that your stomach was burning with butterflies. “House arrest?” You took the changing the subject route.

Eddie sighed, shrugged, and pulled up his pant leg to reveal an ankle monitor. “You guys didn’t tell her she’d be hangin’ with a criminal?”

Steve spoke up. “He’s not even a criminal… well… not the way people thought he was.”

You should probably start thinking about how this was all a plan to kill you. But when you looked over at Eddie, the sincerity that gleamed in his eyes made you give him a small smile.

The rest of the car ride was mostly filled with Robin and Eddie bickering back and forth. You would join in the conversation if needed. And once in a while you swore you would catch Steve’s eyes in the mirror, both of you quickly looking away.

You had always been scared of heights. Something with the anticipation of potentially falling, landing with a thud. It made your knees wobble. You looked down at the creek beneath you, Steve looking up at you as you clutched the rope tightly tied to a branch above you.

“C’mon, we’re not getting any younger.” Robin said behind you.

You gave her a helpless look. “I shouldn’t have come up here. I can just climb back down.” Actually, the thought of you climbing down the steep hill of rocks made your stomach churn.

You heard Steve call your name. “What’s wrong?”

You couldn’t help but scoff. “Are you kidding? I am facing death right now. I can’t believe you and Rob convinced me to get up here.”

You felt Robin slightly pull you back. “Here. I’ll show you how easy it is.” With no hesitation, Robin grabbed the rope, ran forward, and swung into the air. She let go and her arms flapped until she wrapped them around her knees. Her, Steve, and Eddie who was sitting on dry land reading a book, all laughed as she crashed into the water.

Steve ran his hands through his hair, a playful smirk on his face when he looked back up to you. He took a moment as if thinking about something before he began to swim back to land. You watched as he quickly jogged to the edge of the hill. He joined you at the top.

“This is so embarrassing,” you mumbled.

He chuckled. “Don’t be embarrassed. It took me months to get over my fear of swimming places like this.” He motioned for you to grab the rope again.

You did as you were told, giving him another pitiful look. “I’m going to die.”

“You’re not gonna die. I’m gonna jump with you.” He grabbed the rope, his hands beneath yours.

“Are you crazy? The rope is going to snap in two!” Your heart started to beat fast when his bare chest touched your arm as he scooted closer.

He rolled his eyes. “Me and Rob do it all the time. Do you trust me?” His eyelashes fanned over his cheeks. His deep pools were probably the only thing you wanted to jump into.

You bit your lip, giving him a nod of approval. He grinned from ear to ear, backing up to get the momentum to run. “Why were you afraid of the water?”

Steve looked at the ground. “That story isn’t ready to be told.”

You had never really talked to Steve like this before. In fact, you never spoke to him alone. You leaned into him, bumping your shoulder into his. “Well, I’ll be here when that time comes.”

He looked up, a glint in his eyes. “You ready? I’ll tell you when to let go.”

The two of you ran forward. You shouted in fear as you swung over the edge. Steve then shouted for you to let go and you did. Your screams turned into laughter when you felt the wind kiss your cheeks. You felt like you were flying.

Steve met the water first and you joined in not long after. When you resurfaced, Steve’s face was the first thing you saw. It was out of instinct. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. Steve’s hands grabbed you by your waist, lifting you up into the air, making you squeal. “Look at her now. Facing her fears.”

You laughed as he threw you back into the water. You splashed him before swimming back to land. The sudden brave act made your stomach rumble, and you decided to eat one of the sandwiches Robin made.

Once you got your sandwich, you made yourself comfortable on a blanket right next to Eddie. He still had his jeans on but no shirt. You tried not to focus on his tattoos and many scars on his pale skin. You wondered if the story behind them had to do with the earthquake in Hawkins. If it had to do with Steve afraid of water. You leaned forward to see what book he was reading.

You hummed, taking a bite out of your sandwich, watching Steve and Robin arguing about Ninja Turtles again. You did a lot of that, watching.

“So, you ever gonna tell him?” Eddie broke your concentration on a water bug spinning around, making tiny ripples in the creek.

You swallowed, furrowing your brows. “Hm?”

Eddie wasn’t looking at you, his eyes still in his book. “You ever gonna tell Stevie boy you like him?”

You guffawed at the remark. “I- I don’t like Steve.” Panic washed over you. You wondered if maybe you were more obvious than you thought. “He’s like totally not my type.”

Eddie snorted. “Yeah. Okay.”

You opened your mouth, but whatever was going to be said stayed on your tongue because Robin and Steve walked over to the two of you. Robin sat down next to you and laid down with her arms behind her head. “You guys, I’m so ready to get out of here.”

Robin was going to college in a few months. She rarely brought it up knowing Steve was upset at the idea of his best friend leaving. You smiled, happy for your new friend. “I feel like I still have so much to learn about the place.”

Robin puckered her bottom lip. “Aw babe, it’s okay. At least you’ll still have Steve, and Eddie if he ever gets off house arrest.”

You glanced over at the freckled boy, noticing a mole on his stomach which was right next to similar scars that Eddie had. Steve kicked the dirt a little, pouting. “Rob, why do you have to be such a buzzkill?”

Robin had her eyes shut from the glare of the sun, but you could see her roll them beneath her lids. “You act like you don’t have other friends, dingus.” She smirked at a new thought that crossed her mind. “Can’t the girls in town keep you busy while I’m gone?”

Your stomach knotted, and you felt Eddie look over at you, wiggling his brows. “Harrington has gotten older and wiser. He’s looking for a fair maiden to settle down with.”

You knew if you reacted, Eddie would figure out you had a crush on Steve. Well, he already knew, but it would only confirm his suspicions. No one could know.

Robin snorted, “At his rate I’ll graduate before Steve goes steady with anybody.”

“Must you speak about me like I’m not here?” Steve put his hands on his hips. It was kind of cute when he got irritated, a small wrinkle appeared between his brows. “I’ll have you know I’m going out with Carol on Tuesday.”

Robin’s nose scrunched. “Didn’t you already go out with her? Said her breath smelt like tuna?”

Steve shook his head. “No, that was Carol Dill, I’m talking about Carol Fists.”

“Fists? I know what she can fist.” Robin and Eddie burst out laughing as Steve groaned in disgust, saying something about how Robin always ruins things. You pretended to smile at the joke. However, your stomach twisted. You knew Steve dated, but you never took into account the amount of girls he had gone out with.

Robin once told you he had only been in one serious relationship, but it ended badly. You didn’t know her name or what she looked like. A part of you wished you did so you could see what it took to stand out from the pool of girls. Were you that uninteresting?

Robin and Steve asked if you wanted to join them in one last jump, but you opted out, saying you were tired. They both shrugged and made a bet who could get to the top first. You waited until they were far enough before you brought your knees to your chest, biting your bottom lip. “Is it that obvious?” You didn’t look at Eddie but you directed the question to him.

It took him a moment to figure out what you meant. “Mm, only if you are one who observes the smallest of details.”

You let out a sigh. “Please don’t tell him.”

Eddie let out a laugh. “Sweetheart, I don’t kiss and tell. He probably wouldn’t believe me, anyway. He never thinks girls out of his league like him.”

There was an involuntary scoff that came out of you. “Don’t bullshit me. I am not out of his league.” You heard Robin scream, arms flailing as she fell off the cliff. Steve was bent over laughing which made you assume he had pushed her. He then ran and jumped off, making you smile as he cackled.

“If you don’t want people to figure it out, maybe you should stop staring at him with that stupid smile.” You realized if this was the birth of a new friendship, Eddie was going to give you hell. He must be bored being under house arrest and all.

***

Fourth of July at the Harrington’s was a big deal. The front door was adorned in red, white, and blue streamers. It looked like Uncle Sam had thrown up walking up the steps.

Robin kept slapping Eddie, who had recently gotten off of house arrest, because he kept trying to unbutton his polo that Steve had let him borrow. It was the only way Steve’s parents would allow him for the festivities. If he looked presentable.

But even looking presentable did not take his personality, eyeing all the wives and widows that walked past him.

You on the other hand were secretly sulking because Steve was across the living room, his arm wrapped around the new girl he had been seeing. You think her name was Lacy? You didn’t talk to her too long because it was like talking to a brick wall with breasts.

Robin scoffed when she heard Lacy laugh, clutching onto Steve. “Dear Lord, he’s really lowering his standards every day.”

You cracked a smile, hiding it behind your cup of punch, catching Eddie looking at you with a smirk. You prayed he wouldn’t say anything. “I’m pretty sure I heard her ask if Rome existed during the Roman Empire while Mrs. Harrington was showing some painting.”

You and Robin had to look away from one another, knowing you’d cause a scene if you laughed. It was like word vomit, jealousy had taken over you. “I don’t know what he sees in any of these girls. He’s like attracted to these non-spectacular bimbos just because they have big boobs.”

You heard Robin whisper your name, and her elbow into your ribs. You laughed when you looked up at your friend but her eyes were full of panic, glancing at something in front of you.

You turned your gaze to see Steve and Lacy in front of you. Lacy didn’t seem to realize who you were talking about. However, Steve’s jaw ticked. Lacy tried to get closer to him and he reacted by removing his arm from her and walking away.

“Uh hello? You’re going to leave without saying anything?” She called after him. He didn’t reply as he made his way to the staircase that you knew led up to his bedroom. Lacy huffed, “Whatever.” She crossed her arms and stomped elsewhere. You kind of felt bed for speaking badly about a girl who had no clue about your feelings. But it felt worse knowing you had hurt Steve.

You looked at your feet, ashamed of what you had said. “Didn’t Steve say his dad had a gun cabinet?”

Robin smacked your arm. “Not funny.”

“I thought the clueless look on non-spectacular bimbo was funny.” Eddie’s grin went from ear to ear. You and Robin looked at him with narrowed eyes. He put his hands up in defense. “Too soon?”

You groaned, turning around, laying your forehead on the wall behind you. “I’m such an idiot.”

“Jesus Christ. You like him,” Robin proclaimed.

Eddie laughed. “Wait, you didn’t know?”

You felt Robin roll her eyes. “She has literally never said or done anything that made me think… ugh this ruins everything. I thought you were different.”

You snapped your head to face her, brows furrowed. “How does this ruin everything?” You noticed people looking over at you, listening to the commotion.

“Maybe we should lower our voices,” Eddie mumbled.

The scoff that Robin made sounded like Are you kidding me? “Girls never want to be my friend unless they want to get closer to him. Then you came along and didn’t immediately start drooling. I thought I had hope.”

You opened your mouth to defend yourself but you snapped it back shut. Your lips pursed together and you swallowed a large lump down your throat. You didn’t mean to start liking Steve. She was overreacting. “You don’t know anything Robin. And what does it matter? You’re leaving in like three weeks.”

“Not the point,” Robin said through bared teeth.

Eddie awkwardly steered some bystanders away, convincing them everything was okay.

You shook your head, laughing in disbelief. “I get it now. This whole time you’ve been jealous.”

“Excuse me?” Robin was fuming, almost nose to nose.

“Admit it, you’re in love with Steve and can’t stand that he chooses all these boring girls over you.”

You must have touched a sore spot that even Eddie was aware of because before Robin could do anything, he stepped between the two of you. He looked at Robin, giving her an assuring look before back at you. Immediately you felt desolate and little. You didn’t belong, because in only one look you knew Eddie was going to back up his friend. “Maybe you should…” he shrugged, motioning to the door.

You looked between the two of them, Robin faced away from you, but you could see her glassy eyes, brimmed with tears. Your heart sank, wanting to take everything you said in only ten minutes back in your mouth. But you were too stubborn to admit you might have been in the wrong. “Screw you both.” You pivoted, and suddenly the picture of Lacy looked familiar as you stormed out of the Harrington’s house.

It took you three days to find yourself at the front door of Robin’s house. You knew she would be home because she talked about it a few days ago. She would be packing for her move. When she answered the door, her face was expressionless. You held up a basket of banana muffins, her favorite. You smiled awkwardly. “Can I come in?”

You could tell by the grip she had on the door that she wanted to slam in your face. Nonetheless, she sighed and opened it wider for you to walk through. “Sorry about the mess. Packing and all.” Her voice was quiet as she led you to her bedroom. Sure enough, clothes, boxes, and other items were scattered all over her bed and floor. “Just got done packing my voodoo doll of Steve,” she joked.

You winced. One thing about Robin, she wasn’t beating around the bush on any confrontation. “Look, Rob. I didn’t mean what I said. LIke truly. I was the one that was jealous and always have been of your relationship with Steve. You two have all this history and I can’t compete with that.”

Robin ran her fingers through her hair. “Steve and I have been through a lot of shit… like a lot. But it’s not like that.”

You couldn’t help but perk up at the last part.

She continued, “I just don’t understand why you never said anything to me. That you thought you had to keep it a secret.” She plopped down on the ground, her arms hanging off her knees.

You followed the lead by also sitting on the ground, legs crossed. “I just didn’t want to be like every other girl I guess. I knew it wasn’t going to happen so I never said anything.”

Robin thought carefully of her next words. “I can’t deny that you were right.” She started to mess with a loose string on her shirt. “I was sort of jealous.”

Your face softened. “Rob, listen, I can get over him. It’s like a schoolgirl crush.”

The brunette put her face into her hands and groaned loudly. “No… I didn’t mean I was jealous of you.”

“Of Lacy?”

Robin bit her lip, looking away from you. Tears started to form at the corner of her eyes and she wiped one with the back of her hand. She sniffled and shook her head. “No.” She faced you again, “I was jealous of Steve.”

Your brows furrowed. Why was she jealous of him? Your eyes widened. “Oh.” You tried your best not to react extravagantly. It was mostly a reaction of guilt and understanding why Eddie jumped to her defense so quickly. You swallowed something hard. Your cheeks started to heat up. “So the person you like…”

Robin let out a breathy laugh, wiping her nose. “Not like where it consumes me but I can’t deny the idea crosses my mind once in a while.”

You couldn’t help but leap and hug her. “Rob, I value your friendship so much. Thank you for being so vulnerable.”

“I guess we both are good at keeping secrets, huh?” Robin asked once you broke apart.

You smiled. “Eddie too. He figured it out the first day I met him.”

She burst out laughing. “He figured out I’m a lesbian in like two days. For a man who won’t ever shut up he somehow sees things we don’t in a matter of minutes.”

There was a beat.

“Have you spoken to Steve?” You looked away shyly.

Robin smirked, rolling her eyes playfully. “He’s fine. You just hurt his ego a little bit. I think he misses you.”

You blew a raspberry. “Whatever.”

“Why do you think I was jealous? He definitely likes you and that moment I found out you liked him too, I knew it would be a matter of time.” Robin no longer looked sad, in fact she looked ecstatic. She blushed. “I think I only had feelings because you were the first girl who didn’t express feelings for him. That wasn’t fair to you. I’m sorry.”

Your mind had so many things to address. “No, I’m sorry for not being truthful. There were many reasons I never said anything. Number one being I valued our friendship more than anything.”

Robin reached over, placing her hand on your knee. “I don’t want to be the middleman. I’ve done that for him for almost two years. All I will say, he dates these uninteresting bimbos because he thinks those are the only girls who will ever like him. You should talk to him.”

You left Robin’s house two hours later. You both spent time packing, laughing about the summer, and telling her when you started having feelings for Steve. You both also cried because Robin was leaving. You had to convince her out of staying that college was meant for her.

The next day Robin asked you to go bowling. What she didn’t care to mention was that Steve and Eddie would be there. However it didn’t surprise you. You were tempted with running out the door, however; but Robin grabbed your arm quickly as if she knew your plan and walked you to the lane.

Eddie was facing you both, a childlike grin plastered on his face.

“Well well well. Isn’t it the two fighting pussycats?” Eddie stuck his tongue out of the corner of his mouth.

You could only see the back of Steve’s head. He had chosen to wear a baseball cap to hide his hair. He didn’t turn around, but he peeked over his shoulder, quickly averting his gaze to the ground as he put on his bowling shoes.

Robin walked up to Eddie, smacking him on the back of his head. “That was a gross comment, Munson.”

He rubbed the spot she had just hit. “Geez. Twas just a joke.” He then looked up at her, grinning. “I could’ve said it was kind of hot. But did I?”

Robin thumped his forehead this time.

“You make me want to scream sometimes.” She pinched the bridge of her nose.

“That’s funny, your mom said the same thing to me last night.” Eddie and Steve burst out laughing. Robin looked like she wanted to strangle Eddie. Yet, she didn’t react. She plopped in the seat next to him and put her shoes on.

You followed by sitting next to Steve, avoiding any type of eye contact. You noticed Eddie and Robin giving one another look. The awkwardness between you and Steve was too suffocating not to notice.

Your mind raced if he knew your feelings or did Robin and Eddie not say anything? Robin did say she wasn’t meddling but nosey is Eddie’s middle name.

You opened your mouth to say something, anything, to Steve, but he had already gone up to enter names and take his turn. You looked at your hands, defeated.

And so it was like a tug-of-war. When Steve talked, he only spoke to Robin and Eddie. He wasn’t excluding you on purpose but whenever he spoke he never looked at you. Whenever you tried to enter the conversation or talked he’d act uninterested.

You even tried to flirt, going up to him personally and saying what a good bowler he was and if he could give you any tips. He glanced over at the scoreboard, noticing you were in second place. “M’think you have the hang of it.”

You could hear Eddie wince audibly for you. You shit daggers his way before turning around and rolling the ball down your lane. This bowling alley was not on your side because you somehow made a strike.

“Good job! I guess the trick is to make you pissed off.” Eddie laughed at his own comment. Robin elbowed him in his side, whispering that now was not the time.

“I’m not pissed off,” you defended, feeling your cheats heat up with embarrassment. “I’m fine, perfectly fine!”

Steve still was not looking at you, rather the ground.

You stormed up to him. “Are you just going to ignore me the whole night? You won’t give me a chance to even apologize because you’re acting like a child.”

He didn’t flinch.

You threw your hands up. “I’m so sorry I hurt your feelings the other day. I can own up that I shouldn’t have said it. But dude, it freaking sucks when I see you wasting your time on people who don’t care about you.” You regretted speaking up now, mostly because of other people looking over in your direction. You pursed your lips, trying not to cry. “Thanks for inviting me, Rob, but I think it’s time for me to go.” You stopped her and Eddie before they tried to argue.

You walked out of the building and sat in your car processing everything. Robin was moving away and now you had lost one of the only friends you had in this stupid town.

***

You contemplated knocking on the front door to the Harrington household for nearly fifteen minutes before committing. You let out a sigh of relief when it had been Robin who answered the door. Almost immediately you wrapped your arms around her.

“Hey, no crying. I told you that yesterday.” Her hug didn’t reflect her words as she pulled you in tighter. “Thank you for coming.”

She knew you almost didn’t.

Everyone was in Steve’s backyard, Robin told you, explaining that was the only way his parents allowed Robin’s going away party to happen if all the activities were not in the house. She even made a joke that his mom probably didn’t want them using the bathrooms.

You felt nervous when you heard all the voices walking to the backyard. You didn’t recognize anyone. It didn’t seem to phase anyone when you appeared with Robin. Eddie was lounging on a chair, talking to a dark-haired scrawny boy. He called out your name, greeting you. It brought the attention of others, including Steve.

He was in the pool, laughing with a girl you thought looked familiar but had no idea who she was. She was petite and shiny brown hair. This was the first time in weeks you had seen him, and he had actually acknowledged your presence. He smiled half-heartedly and gave you a small wave.

Robin grabbed your hand, dragging you towards the pair. “Rob, I don’t think–”

“Nance! I want you to finally meet who I’ve been telling you about.” Robin laid her arm on top of your shoulders.

Nance smiled. It was warm and inviting. “Steve said you were pretty.”

You peered at Steve who had begun to submerge himself into the water, his face still poking out. “It’s nice to meet you Nance.”

She chuckled. “Actually, it’s Nancy. Nancy Wheeler.”

You smiled at her. You normally found it hard to talk to new people, but she somehow seemed to make everyone around her comfortable. “How do you know Robin and Steve?”

Everyone gave each other a look, silently saying something that you didn’t understand. It was the same look Eddie would also give them whenever you asked a too personal question that no one knew how to answer. It was like they all were hiding something.

“We were close when the earthquake hit.” Nancy answered, smiling warmly. You felt not everything was being said but it didn’t matter. You knew you could trust there was a reason they didn’t say.

The afternoon consisted of conversations with all of Steve and Robin’s friends. Most of them were in college or had moved off. Your favorite was a curly haired boy named Dustin who seemed to have a special connection with Steve. It was like they were complete opposites but also shared the same mind.

Steve had spoken little to you, but it was a step up from ignoring you. It hurt knowing that you two were no longer friends. Yet, you accepted it. Even when you had gone to grab a drink out of the cooler outside, and Steve’s hand touched yours when he went to grab it at the same time. Or when you had found yourself sitting next to him, his shoulder still damp from pool water, brushing your bare arm. You swore when he laughed he leaned into you.

It wasn’t until you had gone inside to use the restroom, finding yourself in one of the hallways looking at all the pictures on the wall. They consisted of wedding photos of his parents, family portraits, and a lot of pictures of Steve. That’s when you caught the picture of Steve and Nancy on the wall. Your heart plummeted a little as you realized why you recognized her. Granted, it was only from what you assumed to be their prom, but she must be the girl Robin had talked about.

“That seems so long ago.” You jumped at the voice that came from behind you. Your shoulders relaxed when you peered behind your shoulder to see it was Steve. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“No, it’s okay. I didn’t know you were there, that’s all.” You looked away from him, still embarrassed from everything that had been going on these past few weeks. You had made your apologies, and although you felt like he should apologize too, you just wanted your friend back.

He stepped forward so he’d be shoulder to shoulder with you, but he didn’t say anything. At first. “Isn’t it weird we think we meet everyone we’re gonna meet when we’re young?”

You looked back at the prom picture. “I wouldn’t have wanted you to meet me in high school.”

He laughed. “I wouldn’t want you to meet me either. I was a true asshole.”

“What changed? A girl?” You motioned to the picture on the wall.

Steve took a moment. You could tell he was thinking about what he would say next. “No. I was still a pretty big asshole. It was more of the break-up part that I decided I needed to grow up.” He looked down at you, but you avoided eye contact. “I guess I’m still not doing a great job.”

Your face softened, finally catching his gaze. “You are. We all have moments when we're assholes.”

“Yeah, but I never apologized for giving you the cold shoulder. After hearing what you said I had a lot of… self-evaluation.” Steve licked his lips. “I haven’t gone on a date in weeks.”

You took a second to process. “How is that going?”

He smiled, nodding his head. “It’s been good. I guess I was a serial dater because I was afraid of being alone.” His shoulder brushed yours. “I think I took my friendships for granted.”

The warmth of his hand made your stomach flip. You needed to tell him. “Steve.” Your tongue felt dry.

“Thank you for being patient with me. It’s nice knowing that even though Robin won’t be here I’ll still have a good friend around.�� He patted you on the shoulder. You tried not to feel the disappointment in you. Of course he only saw you as a friend.

Did you need to say something? Maybe you could grab him by the shoulders and kiss him. You didn’t, praying it would go away in due time.

***

You understood why Robin was relieved when she had made a girl friend. Between the burps and jokes you started to miss her more and more. What was worse, you realized you were spending a lot more time with Steve. You began to notice he was getting older and stronger. The shirts he wore started to hug him. Mostly because he started going on runs again. He had told you and Eddie anytime he felt lonely, he’d just put on his sneakers and sprint out the door. He must have been running a lot.

School had technically started in Hawkins. You felt lame because you didn’t apply to the community college like you said you would. Work at the museum was boring. However, you found yourself at Steve’s house trying to get in as much swimming before it got cold. Steve didn’t seem to mind.

There was one particular day you, Eddie, and Steve were meant to go to the pond you had gone too with Robin. However, when you got to Steve’s house so he could drive, a downpour of rain began. You sat on his couch while he was on the phone with Eddie, saying that the three of you could go next weekend. Your eyes followed him as he walked over, plopping right next to you. He smelt like a mix between coconuts and bourbon. He put his arms behind his head, his bicep flexing.

Your crush had definitely not gotten any better. “I guess I’ll head back home then.”

Steve furrowed his brows. “What? Are you crazy it’s like a tropical storm out there”

You kicked his leg. “I’m not defenseless, you know? I know how to drive.”

“Defenseless, no. A good driver? Not according to those curbs you hit.” Steve’s eyes were closed, but his mouth broke out into the biggest smile.

When he had made that comment you had poked him. He poked you back. You returned by poking a sensitive spot under his armpit. He was then on top of you, tickling your ribs, making you cry of laughter.

You both cooled down, the heat from his body more noticeable when you noticed how close his face was to yours. He hadn’t shaved in a few days, his rough stubbles poking around his face. You couldn’t help drag your finger across his jaw to feel them. You were unsure how it happened. Who kissed who first was the dilemma going through your mind as your lips melted together.

He supported himself by having one hand by your head, the other hand cupping your face. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. Your fingers played with his hair. He hated people touching it, but good friends don’t kiss one another.

Your eyes shot wide. Steve made a grunt as you pushed him off of you, standing up quickly, feeling a little light headed from the blood rushing through you. Steve sat up on the couch, lips red and swollen. His hair disheveled. You saw him run his tongue behind his bottom lip.

You held yourself, feeling so vulnerable. “I think the rain let up. Safe to drive.” Your voice was weak.

His jaw ticked. “Oh.” As if on cue a roar of thunder shook his house, the windows lit up from a lightning bolt. He gave you a look that he didn’t need to say anything for you to understand. He didn’t want you to go, but he knew you weren’t going to stay.

You walked out of the living room and to the front door. Your hand was on the door knob, ready to open it and run out. There was an urge to turn around and so you did. Steve had followed you to the entryway.

“Why do you tell your friends that I’m pretty?” You asked him.

Steve’s chest expanded and fell back to normal. “What do you want me to say?”

You raised your hands into the air. Your voice rose. “It’s not a complicated question, Steve. Why do you tell all these people that I’m pretty?”

Steve’s tone matched yours. “Because you are?” He said it so simply. Like it was easy.

Your arms fell to your sides. “Then why have you never told me?”

Steve was taken aback. The silence between you was full of palpable tension. “Haven’t I?”

You scoffed. “No, Steve. You haven’t.”

He swallowed hard, looking off to the side.

“Listen, we don’t have to talk about this. I know you’re lonely since you haven’t been going on dates and we just got caught up in the moment. It’s fine really.” You were looking at your feet, your shoelaces loose, dragging on the floor. You thought about how last week they did the same thing and Steve had kneeled down and tied them for you.

He said your name but he didn’t move to stop you as you bolted out the door.

The next weekend you debated telling Eddie you were sick when he had called to ask if you were still down to go to the pond with him and Steve. If Eddie knew about the kiss, he didn’t say anything.

Steve must have begged to pick up Eddie first or they were already together when they came and picked you up. You sat in the back of the car, arms crossed, staring purposefully at the rearview mirror. Eddie kept going on and on about how everyone from his old band, Corroded Coffin, had either left town or started a family. Eddie told you about after the earthquake he had lost everything, including his most prized possession— his guitar.

When you arrived at the pond there was an awkward silence as everyone carried blankets and the ice chest to a spot that seemed suitable to sit on. Fortunately, the ground was dry from the few days of rain Hawkins had received over the past week. You could see trees beginning to brown, and wildflowers wilting, telling you that summer was slipping away.

You looked over at Steve arguing with Eddie about forgetting to pack sandwiches. He had gone ahead and taken off his shirt. His muscles poked out and the hair on his chest was dark and unruly. Steve walked away from Eddie, mumbling that Robin never forgot to bring food. He caught you in the act of watching him, his face turning red.

This was ridiculous. You spent weeks being mad that he was avoiding you. “You wanna race to the top?”

Steve looked over at the hill where you could see the tan rope swaying side to side. He smirked. “I’ll give you a head start.”

You didn’t take a beat to think before you pivoted and started to sprint towards the hill. It didn’t take long for Steve to catch up with you. He was going easy, keeping a steady pace slightly in front of you. You might have gone slower because you were distracted by how his butt looked in his swim trunks.

You both climbed the hill, giggling as you almost slipped. His hand on the small of your back to hold you steady. You suddenly cried out, looking at your hand. Steve immediately went into action, eyes wide with concern. “What happened?”

He adjusted himself to look at the problem. You went to show him your hand, but then you stuck your tongue out and quickly climbed faster to reach the top. Steve called out your name, calling you a cheater as you pulled yourself to the top of the hill. You laid on your back, catching your breath, laughing once you saw Steve dragging himself on the top. “That was not fair.” He was on his arms and knees laughing almost as hard as you.

It wasn’t even that funny but it felt nice to just laugh. With Steve. You sat up, your face hurt from smiling so hard. Steve’s eyes softened. They were hazy and he looked stupidly drunk. You nudged him. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

He blinked a few times. He sat up, taking his finger and brushing your cheek. “I couldn’t help but think how pretty you are when the sun shines on you.”

Your heart raced. Your words were struggling to form. You looked over at the pond, glistening underneath the sun. “I like you Steve but I can’t just be a fling to you.”

He looked sad. You heard your name said under his breath. “I like you so much. All this time I didn’t know what I wanted and when I met you it just got harder to click with anyone or feel the way I do about you. It was hard to avoid those feelings. I never said anything because Robin was so happy to have a girl as a friend and I couldn’t ruin that for her.”

Your cheeks were hot and you covered your face with your knees. You weren’t sure how to react hearing the boy you’ve had a crush on likes you back. The end of summer breeze kissed your nose.

His tanned skin was starting to fade, but you could still see all his freckles covering his shoulders. You leaned forward, placing your lips softly on his shoulder blade.

“Have you been to Enzo’s yet?” Steve leaned his forehead on yours, a cheesy smile painted on his face.

You messed with a loose string hanging off your swimsuit bottoms. You were almost too afraid to look him in the eyes. “Are you asking me on a date?” You had never been there. Someone told you it used to be the only nice restaurant before the earthquake. Most of the new residents didn’t go, leaving it to be a sacred place for the natives of Hawkins.

“Didn’t I just confess I like you?” Steve chuckled and you could feel the vibrations from how close he was to you.

You ducked your head, feeling flustered. “It’s intimidating to know I’m not the only person you’ve taken out on a date.”

Steve was silent for a moment, hopefully thinking carefully over a valid concern. He placed his hand on yours, trailing his fingers over yours. He then used the same hand to lift your chin up. “I don’t take just anyone to Enzo’s.”

Your heart fluttered. He was smooth. You tried to say something that Eddie was probably concerned the two of you had died or got lost. Steve disregarded it because his lips found yours.

It was soft and slow. It felt just as nice as the first time you kissed. Except now, you knew how he felt. You felt kaleidoscopic. It was overwhelming and sexy.

You hoped it would always feel like this. That anytime you felt the last moments of summer, you always remembered the beginning of a new season you had never felt before.

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