#“you can’t come jonathan you’re too basic”

[darkcollectorruins]

Batfamily HC

Adult Damian being a fashion icon and absolutely killing it at the Met Gala

[mypoisonedvine]

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 (part one) | neil lewis x reader

title comes from the song you already know by bombay bicycle club

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | you've been best friends with neil basically your entire life, and secretly in love with him almost as long. will you ever find the courage to tell him the truth?

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 10k

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | smut, angst, pining/unrequited love - 18+ only

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | alcohol consumption, 'kid' as a petname, reader being kind of a femcel, jonathan being kind of mvp??

Neil had asked you to make sure the Thriller section was alphabetized; sometimes you thought he was just giving you tasks to look busy, but then again, you could probably use it since the employees of Gumshoe Video never looked very busy.  You spent most of the day on the couches, watching whatever old bizarre gem Neil put on— sometimes you thought he only had employees other than himself so that he could pay people to sit here and watch this stuff with him.  

But, the point is, you were sorting tapes.  Because everyone needs their VHS thriller movies to be in perfect alphabetical order.

There actually was a customer in the store, for once, so it was better not to be on the couch anyhow.  You hadn’t really noticed him when he came in, but as he wandered around the shelves, he seemed to drift towards you.  

You tried to ignore him when he stopped right beside you— and kneeling to look at the lowest shelf, he towered over you— but when you stood up he got your attention.  

"Need any help, sweetheart?" he asked, leaning in a little too close.  "I'm kind of a movie buff."

He had a frat guy kind of look about him— polo, boat shoes, quaffed blonde hair.  He could be good-looking, you thought, if he didn’t dress like a discount Abercrombie model… and if he didn’t hit on random women at the video store.  "I actually work here," you corrected, barely looking up from your task.  This is why we need uniforms instead of just dressing up to promote specials…

"Oh, really?" he smirked.  "What made you wanna work in a place like this?"

"My best friend owns the place," you explained, "and I'm, you know… kind of a movie buff."

"Right," he said, not seeming convinced.  "You like Kubrick?"

You rolled your eyes so hard you almost choked: Wow, what a deep cut.  But you kept a straight-ish face when you looked at him.  "Yeah, he's pretty good.  Don't care for how he treats his actors, but he was certainly a visionary."

"What are your top five favorite Kubrick movies?"

You knew this guy was a tool, but you were still a bit shocked that he actually had the gall to quiz you.  "Excuse me?" you scoffed incredulously.

"Can you even name five?" he asked, looking horribly proud of himself, and you straightened up as you glared at him.

"You're heterosexual, right?" you asked him, getting a confused nod.  "Can you name five women you've made come?"

Neil watched the guy storm out, Lucien cringed a bit from behind the register— and Jonathan, not seeming as if he had been paying attention at all, kept laying across the couch and tossing a ball up in the air to catch and throw again.

“Okay, that’s gotta be the third this week,” Lucien groaned.  “What are you saying to these guys?”

“Nothing worse than what they’re saying to me,” you assured with a frustrated, sarcastic smile.

“Listen, don’t get me wrong,” Neil began, “that guy totally deserved it— but maybe, you know… work on your demeanor with customers?”

“Wow,” you scoffed as you crossed your arms, “do you think I should smile more, too?”

“Wha— no!” Neil denied.  

“Yes,” Lucien said at the same time, though he changed his answer with an awkward cough and mumble when you both shot him a look.  “No, no— you’re good— you smile too much, even…”

“I don’t mean it like that,” Neil promised.  “But I think half the guys that come here are just coming here to see you!  Nobody even rents movies anymore.”  He groaned a little, dropping his shoulders defeatedly.  “Can’t you… tell them you’ll go out with them if they rent something?”

“What?!” you squeaked. “No!”

“Sales would double,” Lucien nodded.

“No,” you said again.  “I’m not letting you pimp me out to sell tapes, Neil.”

“I just mean— maybe you don’t really go out with them,” he suggested.  “Just… allude to the fact that you’re only interested in guys who…”

He trailed off as he searched around the shelves for a bit, smiling when he snagged a copy of The Maltese Falcon.

“— in guys who like The Maltese Falcon,” he grinned, “you know— for example.  Then they rent it to impress you and we make a few bucks.”

“I am only interested in guys who like The Maltese Falcon,” you frowned, snatching the tape away and shoving it back on the shelf.  “But that’s not the point.”

“Maybe you have to be more straightforward, you know,” Jonathan butted in as he sat up, “guys are dumb.”

“Yeah!” Neil agreed a little too easily.

“Just say something about how a massive VHS collection turns you on,” Lucien suggested, and you glared at him.

“Jesus!” you protested, but Neil tried to soothe you a bit.

"C'mon, kid, can't you just… flirt a little?  Get our sales up?"

He'd started calling you kid since you two watched Casablanca together— which was especially stupid as you were both twelve at the time.  At first you complained because he shouldn't be calling you kid with you both being kids; then you complained because neither of you were kids; and then you gave up.  You still punched Lucien for trying to call you that once… you only barely let Neil get away with it anyways.

But you let Neil get away with a lot.  It was a side effect of being secretly, but massively, in love with him.

It had been an issue since middle school— that was when the two of you became such good friends.  Technically, you’d known each other since first grade (where you had shared your crayons, a true test of friendship at the time), and you’d sort of had a crush on him as early as elementary school (mainly because he was the only boy you could stand at the time), but it all kicked into high gear in seventh grade.  That was when you became inseparable, when you got in trouble together, when you stayed up all night watching movies, when you went through all of life’s ups and downs together: you even went to prom together, platonically of course.  

As for your feelings, you’d managed to hide them this long and still be his best friend, even when it sometimes felt like letting him stomp all over your heart without even trying.  Honestly, the only thing harder than being in love with Neil was trying not to be in love with Neil: you adored his sense of humor, his generosity, his sensitivity— and he’d been there for you through the things you couldn’t have imagined surviving alone.  That kinda stuff bonds you to somebody… and when that somebody has the most gorgeous eyes you’ve ever seen, it’s hard not to fall in love.

“Maybe I would flirt if I knew how,” you offered.  “But I’m not exactly, you know, flirty.”

“How hard could it be?” Jonathan interjected.  “Just, you know—”

You stared in quiet disbelief as Jonathan attempted to push his chest together with his arms.  It wasn’t quite working, of course, and the rest of you watched on as he fumbled around trying to force some cleavage.  “You look like an idiot,” you finally informed him after letting him do it for a minute.

“But is he wrong?” Lucien wondered.

“So, what, you guys really think that if I just went up to customers and—” you pushed your breasts together with your arms, accentuating them significantly in your tank top.

“That would work,” all three men asserted in unison before you could even finish.

“I fucking hate you guys,” you grumbled under your breath as you walked to the back, deciding to take your break in Neil’s office until these guys got their act together.

You never stayed gone for long, though— as idiotic as they could be, your friends were certainly charming.  They won you back with a promise to let you pick what tape to put on, and the four of you ended up laying on the couches watching Roman Holiday.  

When the movie was almost over, you rested your head on Neil’s shoulder; you guys did stuff like that, it was normal for you, but it always made your heart skip anyways.

~

This time, you were all hanging out at Jonathan’s primary workplace: the club.  In fact, it was a much larger crowd than just you and the guys— plenty of your local friends and loyal supporters of Gumshoe Video, all sitting around a big table while someone’s mediocre cover band took the stage.

"So, uh, me and Denise broke up," Neil said suddenly, going back in for another swig of beer right after.

The others offered their mild shock and half-hearted condolences, but you knew it was going to happen— he'd told you before he did it.  You tried to tell him that paying off a waiter to spill water on her was a weird way to prove what he already knew, but you couldn't disagree with his conclusion.  She was definitely difficult, and shockingly judgemental for someone who managed to date a video store owner for this long.

“No, it’s fine, it’s fine,” he promised, “I don’t think anybody’s too surprised, right?”

There was an awkward hesitation among the group as they wondered if they should lie, or just fess up now that he was obviously accurate.  You broke the silence to suggest someone go get another round of drinks for the table, and even though that was pretty much a one-man job, nearly everyone agreed and quickly shuffled off— leaving just you, Neil, and Lucien.

“I guess tonight’s your chance to meet somebody new, don’t you think?” Lucien suggested.  “Get over Denise, you know.”

“I think I’m already over Denise,” Neil decided.

“And if I told you that girl back there,” Lucien returned, pointing with the hand still holding his drink, “has been looking over here at you for the past ten minutes?”

You glanced where Lucien was pointing as well, seeing a girl in a denim mini skirt and massive hoop earrings settle her eyes on Neil before looking away quickly with a lip-gloss lacquered smile.

“I think I need some help getting over Denise,” Neil agreed suddenly, patting Lucien on the back before he left the table.  

You wanted to pout, but you were used to this— he was good-looking, he got a lot of attention from women in places like this… it usually didn’t work out for him, though.  Certainly not never, probably more often than most guys, but… definitely not every time.

You tried not to look over too much, you didn’t want to get caught spying or, even worse, looking a little jealous— but you noticed that every time you looked over at them, Neil was talking.  That was his problem, see: he never fucking shuts up.  Guys, girls, anybody who will listen— if you admit to not knowing about his favorite fifty-year-old spaghetti western or the most recent pre-Code horror comedy he watched, he’ll gladly blab to you about it for ages.  The first time you glanced at them, you saw her giving him doe eyes, laughing at something he said— and the last time, those eyes had glazed over and her laugh seemed more nervous and confused; you smirked to yourself.  He’s still Neil…

“So, um,” you struck up a conversation with Lucien, “what about you?  Anybody here catching your eye?”

“That’s actually the perfect descriptor of my type,” he replied.  “Anybody.”

You snorted.  “Then you should go, you know, talk to anybody?”

He shrugged and frowned a bit, and it was a simple movement but you understood completely.

The band started to play a new song, something upbeat and energetic, and you smiled.  “Wanna dance with me?”

“Oh, I don’t think I’m drunk enough for that—” Lucien began to protest, but a minute later you were dragging him up by the stage.  Neither of you were actually any good at dancing, mainly you were just kind of jumping and flailing around together, but it was fun and that was the point.

Eventually, more of your friends wandered in to join you; when the song ended, everyone clapped and cheered, the band bowing in gratitude.  You only stole one more look over at Neil and his conversation partner, watching her interrupt his rant with a hand on his shoulder: your throat felt a little dry.  You just hoped what she was saying was more like hey, my friends are leaving, I’ve gotta go and not hey, wanna come over to my place so you can keep explaining German expressionism to me?

Your heart dropped when he reached for her— what if he kissed her now?  What if he wrapped her up under his arm and they walked out together?  What if you had to spend the whole night thinking about him having sex with her?

“Hey, we should ask them if they know any Strokes songs!” Lucien suggested, tugging on your arm to get your attention, but your mind was elsewhere.

“Uh huh, yeah,” you mumbled blankly, and he frowned at you.

“What’s going on?” he asked, trying to look for what you were seeing; but Neil wasn’t reaching for her, he was lifting his hand to wave goodbye as she left.  You beamed, even though you did feel a little bad when you saw Neil’s shoulders sink— it’s not that you wanted him to be alone forever, you were just relieved that you might have a few more moments to breathe before he got with somebody again.

“Nothing, sorry,” you answered Lucien, giving him your attention again.  “What’d you say?”

“We should ask the band if they—”

And immediately, Lucien lost your focus as you couldn’t stop yourself from looking at Neil again— he was already looking at you, seeing you all on the dancefloor.  You waved for him to join you, and he smiled as he made his way towards the stage.  A new song began, even louder than the last, and you could blame that for not hearing Lucien’s question for the second time in a row.

Although he danced with you all for a few moments, Neil draped his arms over your and Lucien’s shoulders, nearly yelling to be heard over the music.

“You guys are coming over tonight for a movie, right?” he presumed.  “Jonathan’s working ‘til late so he’s out, but—”

“Sorry, I’ve gotta be up early,” Lucien explained, “my brother and his wife are visiting, remember?  We’re getting brunch and—”

“Whatever, party pooper,” Neil frowned, before suddenly smiling at you.  “Guess it’s just me and you, huh, kid?”

You tried not to sigh too noticeably through your smile.  “Yeah, me and you…” you agreed.

~

As you groggily blinked your eyes open, you found Neil staring at you, his face uncomfortably close to yours, with a big smile.  “Mornin’, kid,” he said, raising his eyebrows.

You yelped and nearly jumped out of your skin while he laughed.  “Jesus Christ, Neil!” you shouted, kicking off the blanket on you— and then you began to process where you were and why.  “God,” you groaned as you held your head in your hands, while Neil kept laughing at you, “did I fall asleep on the couch again?”

It was sort of a rhetorical question— obviously you had, it would be much stranger if you woke up on the video store couch without having fallen asleep there.  “Yeah,” he said, standing up and sighing a bit, “but you didn’t miss that much of the movie.”

“What happened at the end?” you asked, stretching your legs and snatching the blanket off the floor to fold up; Neil must have put it on you after you dozed off.

“No, we can finish it later,” he decided, walking up to the register, and you groaned.

“Seriously?  Not even falling asleep gets me out of finishing The Man Who Laughs?”

He smiled a little as he started prepping the store for open.  “Nope,” he said proudly, popping his lips on the p sound.

“It’s not that I didn’t like it,” you assured, getting up and trying to ignore the soreness in your back from sleeping on a ratty old sofa all night— you remembered helping Neil carry this thing from where he found it on the side of the road.  Considering you knew where it came from, it was a wonder you ever sat on it, let alone slept on it… but this happened relatively often.  Sometimes it almost felt like you slept easier here or at Neil’s apartment than your own. 

You stood up and stretched your arms, sparing a glance over at him.

“Can I run home and change?” you asked, and he frowned.  

“We open in ten minutes,” he noticed, “you won’t be back in time.”

“Yes, and who will serve the clamoring crowds that await our open outside?” you rolled your eyes, gesturing out the storefront to the abandoned sidewalk.  “You can handle it on your own.”

“Just go to my place,” he shrugged, “it’s closer.  And I think you left some jeans there anyway.”

Right— you’d borrowed a pair of his sweats to get comfy for a movie night, and forgot to take the jeans back when you left.  You yourself had one of Neil’s short-sleeve button-ups at your place, when you’d both changed there for a costume party, but you let him believe it was just lost… it was too late to tell him now that you had it, ‘cause then he might ask why you kept it so long and then he might, somehow, deduce that you had been cuddling it at night from time to time…

“Right, okay,” you nodded, “but I still need a shirt.”

“Just borrow one of mine,” he said, like it was no big deal at all and didn’t make your heart skip.

For a second you wondered if you should protest— if he was still dating Denise, you probably would’ve said something.  But you decided not to say anything, in case he changed his mind; you nearly bolted out of the store and down the two blocks to his apartment.

Your jeans were on the dresser, draped haphazardly in their same just-peeled-off shape you must have left them in last week.  You grumbled to yourself a little about how he could’ve folded them for you so they wouldn’t be wrinkled… but then again, all his jeans were wrinkled, so he clearly didn’t know any better.

And now the fun part: picking a shirt.  You smiled to yourself as you opened the drawer, perusing through t-shirts with old movie posters and semi-witty slogans… cute, sure, but those were pretty similar to what you already wore.  

But the button-downs?  Those were quintessential Neil, and you'd be wasting an opportunity if you didn't put one of those on.

You felt a little giddy as you opened the next drawer down and found them all folded.  The first one you saw had light blue and white stripes, so you snatched it up and slipped it on.

The fit was definitely off, but you let yourself indulge in a fantasy for a moment: waking up here, in Neil's bed… in Neil's arms.  You'd slip on his shirt while you went to find some breakfast, and he'd hum something about how pretty you look in his clothes, and you'd end up tangled in the sheets again not too much later.  

Sighing to yourself, you buttoned the last button, leaving the two at the top undone so you didn't look too formal, and headed back to the store for opening.

Neil stared at you for a second when you walked in— at the shirt, specifically.  You waited for him to say something, but he didn't.  "What, should I not wear this one?" you asked, looking down at it as well, and he shook his head.

"No, no, it's fine— sorry," he mumbled, "just start sorting out last night's returns, please."

You definitely got a much stronger reaction from Jonathan, as soon as he walked in the door.

(Why was he here when he wasn't even working today?  Who knows— he was just always here somehow.)

“Hey!  You look even more like a lesbian than usual,” Jonathan greeted with a peppy fake-smile as he approached you, and you smirked a bit.

“Don’t blame me, it’s his shirt,” you nodded towards Neil.

“See, I told you you dress like a— wait,” Jonathan stopped mid-insult, looking back at you, then at Neil again, then at you; he pointed his fingers at each of you, crossing them back and forth.  “Did… you two…?”

You narrowed your eyes, waiting for him to explain what he meant.

“Did you guys hook up?!” Jonathan accused, wide-eyed.

You felt your face getting warm, and you stammered out your denial; Neil started waving his hands in disagreement as well, but Jonathan was already on a roll.

“Oh my god!” he yelped.  “The one time I miss movie night here and it gets freaky!  Should’ve known better than to leave you two lovebirds alone—”

“Jonathan, we didn’t—” you choked.

“It’s not— it wasn’t—” Neil butted in.  “She just borrowed my shirt!  ‘Cause she— because—”

“I mean, we’ve kinda all been waiting for this to happen— but I never really thought it would,” Jonathan steamrolled along.  “Well, yeah, I guess I thought it would, I just—”

“Wait wait wait, what?” Neil shook his head, stepping up closer to the two of you.  “What does that mean?”

Finally, he seemed to get Jonathan’s attention, who began to nervously backtrack as both of you stared at him.  “W-well, I just mean—” he started.

“And who’s ‘we all’?” Neil noticed.  “This isn’t just you, thinking this?”

“I… I mean,” Jonathan scoffed, “you know— just, just some people… we thought that maybe… that since you two are so close, that you might—”

“Wow,” Neil chuckled, crossing his arms in disappointment.  “You know, that’s so reductive.  For a bunch of progressive, free-thinking hipsters—” he waved his hands as he said it in a mocking way— “you’re really just, like… like… you know, not!  ‘Cause apparently men and women can’t really be friends?”

“No, come on, not like that,” Jonathan denied, “of course we can—”

“I mean, you’re her friend, you’re both single,” Neil noticed, gesturing between the two of you, “why don’t you two, just, you know… hook up!”

You cringed a little as Jonathan tugged at his collar nervously.  “Well, I—”

“Come on, why not?” Neil went on, smiling at the suggestion even though he was clearly unamused.  “I mean, she’s nice, she’s pretty, she’s got a vagina— why don’t you hit on her?”

“Hey, come on, Neil,” Jonathan sighed, “I’m well aware she’s got a vagina—”

“So what’s the problem?” Neil insisted.  “Clearly you can’t just be friends with someone with a vagina—”

“I would really prefer if we didn’t talk about my vagina anymore,” you mumbled nervously.

“— how come you never hit on her, Jonny?” Neil pressed, backing him into a corner metaphorically— but also somewhat literally, he was leaning in and Jonathan was pressing his back more and more against the shelves.

“You really want me to answer that?” Jonathan replied, almost threatening.  That made you furrow your brow a bit.  It seemed like a rhetorical question, Neil trying to prove a point, but you didn’t expect Jonathan to have a literal answer.

“Yeah, sure,” Neil decided, “enlighten us.”

Neil glanced at you, like you were just as gung-ho about this interrogation, but you were feeling a little sick.  You understood the spirit of Neil’s argument— and technically, you agreed with him— but it still stung to see him so incensed at the suggestion of you two together.  You were trying not to take it personally, it wasn’t like he was disgusted by you or anything… he even said just now that you were pretty, and he’d told you that before, but… it still bothered you a little, for reasons you couldn’t quite describe and that you were sure were illogical.

“I never hit on her,” Jonathan answered, lowering his voice, “because I… I figured it would piss you off.”

That seemed to surprise you both, maybe for different reasons; you bit your lip to suppress a smile.  Did Jonathan really think Neil was that protective over you?  “Why would it piss me off?” Neil wondered, but he sounded a little defensive— defensive in a caught-red-handed sort of way.

“I… I don’t know,” Jonathan shrugged.  “That’s just the vibe I got, okay?  That she’s sorta… off-limits.”

Neil hesitated.  “Well… she’s not,” he decided.  “You’re grown-ups.  Whatever you wanna do is none of my business— as long as you’re not being, you know, creepy or an asshole.”

“Of course,” Jonathan agreed, most of the tension settling as Neil backed up a step.

“Okay, well, ask her out then,” Neil instructed firmly.

“I didn’t say I wanted to!” Jonathan sputtered.

“Neil, Jesus!” you complained simultaneously, and he seemed to relent, shrugging as he walked back to the register.

“Sorry, sorry,” he dismissed, “just letting you know it’s… fine with me!”

You rolled your eyes a bit and looked back at Jonathan.  “Sorry,” you offered him quietly, “he’s… I don’t know.  He gets weird about that.”

“Oh really?” Jonathan scoffed sarcastically.  “Didn’t notice.”

“The real reason you shouldn’t be hitting on me is because we’re coworkers, by the way,” you reminded him.

“Hey, I only work here part-time,” Jonathan noticed, “so I think that means it’s cool as long as we only go out part-time.”

You snorted, but he seemed to get nervous.

“You know I’m kidding, right?” he added quickly, and you nodded with a laugh.

~

"You know, I was thinking— we don't have many events at the store these days,” Neil mumbled around a bite of pretzel, watching you play your turn at Skee Ball.  Normally he would put coins in the machine beside yours and try to beat your score, but the other machine was out of order and you decided to take a relay race approach.  “What if we did, like, I don’t know… maybe a double feature for a couple bucks?”

“Neil, we show movies every night,” you sighed, “and we invite everybody, and ninety-nine percent of the time it’s just some combination of me, you, Jonathan, and Lucien.”

“Yeah, but this time we could do movies that more people like— a little easier to watch,” he suggested, “something that would get new people in the store.”

“New people don’t wanna sit on a musty old couch with strangers,” you reminded him, and he nodded as he chewed and swallowed his next bite.

“You’re right,” he agreed, holding the pretzel out towards you.  “Wanna bite?”

You were trying to get through your skee balls pretty quick, so you just leaned your head over and chomped down on the end of one of the twists while he held it for you.  You hummed in appreciation— it was pretty good, fresher than the last one you guys got here.

Visits to the arcade used to be your thing, back in high school (aside from watching movies, but that was a given).  Then you slowed down with the trips, feeling a little old and out of place surrounded by kids— but the problem was, this place wasn’t filled with kids anymore.  It hadn’t changed much at all since you were both in high school, and that was exactly the issue: it was old, run-down, a bit grimey… kids weren’t coming to arcades anymore anyways, they were all on the Internet apparently.  So, while you and Neil sort of appreciated having the place to yourself, it also broke your heart knowing your old haunt couldn’t hold itself together forever… you two visited not just to recapture some old childhood joys, but to try to do your part to keep the business afloat.  

You pretended to like being here— because you really did want to support the place, and Neil wanted to keep coming back— but it actually made you pretty fucking sad.  Surrounded by all the neon, the noisy pinball machines, the Dig Dug machine that had a fifty-fifty chance of stealing your quarters, the photobooth (you still had some strips from that thing pinned to your wall, some so old that they’d faded from the sunlight that came in your window each day); it all felt sort of eerie now.  You would’ve never known all those years ago how little this place would change, even though you never expected it to— you would’ve never known how little anything would change.  Neil was still by your side, but still so far away… if you could talk to that fourteen-year-old girl now, you would warn her that no amount of time spent running around this place and playing Street Fighter was going to make Neil love her, or you.

But here you were anyways.  “Woo!” you cheered when your final score came through: 50,765.  “Beat that!”

Neil set the pretzel down on the bar-height table (on a pile of napkins, don’t worry, neither of you trusted those tables that much) and brushed the salt off his hands with a scoff.  “Oh please, I can beat that with my eyes closed,” he assured as you crossed your arms.

As he put his quarters in and stepped up to the game, you smiled wide.  “Alright, if you say so.”

You came up behind him and covered his eyes with your hands, making him jump and then laugh.  “What are you doing?”

“Just keeping you honest,” you giggled, holding on tight even when he tried to move his head around so that he could see.  

He did his best, usually struggling to even find where the balls were coming down more than rolling them decently— but after the first three went in the gutter without even scoring, you knew he didn’t stand a chance.  He did score a few times, but when the buzzer went off and he lifted your hands from his eyes, he laughed at the pitiful 1,150 on the board.

“Ohh, that’s too bad,” you winced, “guess you’re just full of it.”

Still holding your hands away from his face, he spun around and twirled under your arms like you were dancing for a moment; it ended with him face-to-face with you, swinging your hands back and forth a bit to force you to twist with him slightly.  “Wanna play Street Fighter next?” he suggested quickly.  “I know I can beat you at that.”

The giddy joy of the moment dropped and shattered; if you thought about it too much, you probably could’ve cried right then.  As pathetic, yet oddly aesthetically pleasing, as it would be to cry in an arcade, you swallowed down the emotion and smiled back at him.  “Yeah, okay,” you agreed.

~

You’d been a little antsy all day— Neil seemed to notice, asking a couple times if you were okay, but you just nodded and shrugged it off.  He had a sense for when you were lying; but that’s the thing, you weren’t lying, really.  You just weren’t sure what to say.  You weren’t sure if you should say anything.  And yet, you felt a little guilty not telling him everything that was going on with you— not just guilty, but plain weird.  Because you usually did tell him everything— except, you know, the thing— but you didn’t know if you should talk about this.  Not that you couldn’t— but should you?

So you were sort of gnawing on your lip most of the day, keeping yourself busy with tallying late fees behind the desk, trying to keep conversation light and meaningless: thankfully, in that regard, Jonathan and Lucien made it pretty easy.

“Okay: fuck, marry, kill,” Jonathan began, “Dracula, the Mummy, and the Creature from the Black Lagoon.”

“Dude, I can’t answer that,” Lucien refused.

“Okay, then Neil, what would you do?” Jonathan changed his target.

“Um, well,” Neil pondered, “I think I’d have to kill Dracula— spare the world from that evil, you know— and I guess I’d marry the Mummy—”

“Freud would like to have a word,” Lucien butted in.

“And I’d fuck the Creature from the Black Lagoon,” he concluded, “out of morbid curiosity.”

You snorted, but didn’t look up from your clipboard.  “You come up with one that Lucien will do,” Jonathan challenged Neil.

“Alright, uhh, let’s see…” Neil stalled as he thought, looking up at the ceiling and stroking his chin dramatically.  “Fuck, marry, kill: Sarah Connor, Ripley, and Trinity from Matrix.”

“Okay, see, that’s a real challenge,” Lucien affirmed.  “If I marry Trinity, do I have to live in the post-apocalyptic wasteland or can she live here?”

“You’d have to live in the Matrix,” Jonathan announced, like it was obvious.

“Hm,” Lucien pondered, “do I know it’s a false reality?  Does she know?”

“She knows, you don’t,” Neil decided.

“Is she gonna tell me?  What if she has another guy on the side in the real world?”

“Okay, you’re overthinking this,” Jonathan groaned.

“And is this the Sarah Connor that’s already had John?  ‘Cause if not, I can’t kill her, or the human revolution stands no chance— but if she has him, I can’t marry her, ‘cause I’m not ready to be a stepfather—”

“You’re useless,” Jonathan informed him flatly.

“Well, it’s easy then,” you offered, still tallying fees on the printed table.  “You fuck Connor, marry Ripley and kill Trinity.”

“Yeah, I guess that works,” Lucien shrugged.

“If you’re so good at this game, you should play,” Jonathan decided.  You looked up from your work for once, finding Lucien looking excited at the idea and Neil looking a little nervous but intrigued.

“I’ve got one for you,” Lucien decided, looking concerningly smug.  “Fuck, marry, kill: the three of us.”

Jonathan let out a giddy ‘ooh’ and Neil raised his eyebrows.  “Oh— I don’t know— that’s too weird,” you shook your head, “it’s different, you’re real—”

“Wait, wait,” Neil interrupted, “now I wanna know.”

You froze for a second, wondering if you should double down on not participating, or if you should tell him the first thing that popped in your head: am I allowed to do all three to you?

Instead, you set the clipboard down and crossed your legs, and the men seemed to straighten up as they prepared for your answer.  “Alright,” you said, looking at them for a lingering moment before sighing.  “I think I’d fuck Jonathan, and then kill myself.”

“Yes,” Jonathan hissed, shaking his fist triumphantly.

“Dude, really?” Lucien snapped at him.  “That didn’t sound like a compliment to me.”

“Don’t care, I stopped listening after ‘fuck Jonathan’,” he replied.  “Alright, Neil, you’re gonna have to make good on that ‘she’s not off-limits’ promise you made to me—”

But Neil wasn’t listening to Jonathan, he was still looking at you.  “Wait— you wouldn’t marry me?” Neil interrupted, putting a hand on the desk and leaning in a bit closer— he looked half-amused and half-offended, and your heart skipped a beat.

“Um…” you started to wonder how to defend yourself from that.  What did he expect you to say?  Yes, I’d marry you, I’ve actually been planning our wedding since junior year.

“Hold on,” Lucien stopped you, “if she fucks you and marries you, that means I’m getting killed!”

“Yeah, so?” Jonathan smirked.

“What, you don’t think I’m marriage material?” Neil laughed… but he didn’t seem like he was really joking, per se.  He didn’t seem serious either, of course, but you decided to take his question seriously since he’d dared to ask it twice.

“Well,” you mumbled, “no.  I don’t.”

Then he seemed a bit more serious, adjusting his posture a bit.  “Why not?”

“I mean… you’re my best friend,” you reminded him, “but… you’re not reliable.”

He nodded, pursing his lips together.

“You’re not ready for marriage,” you continued.  “I mean, I think you’re just as sure of that as I am.”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“And honestly?  You’re a great friend and all, but… if you were my husband, I don’t think I could really… you know, trust you…”

The silence seemed a little heavy— all the men were sort of frozen for a second, you wondered if you should wave your arm around to make sure time hadn’t stopped.  But they did move, Neil first in fact, as he stopped leaning on the counter and nodded a little.

“I’m just surprised that you didn’t fuck Dracula,” Jonathan said to Neil in an attempt to cut the tension, “considering your massive man-crush on Bela Lugosi.”

“Hey, that reminds me, tonight’s movie is Bela Lugosi Meets a Brooklyn Gorilla,” Neil announced, apparently shaking off whatever odd energy he’d picked up just before, “you in?”

“Yeah, sure,” Jonathan nodded, “should I bring drinks?”

“Uhh, yeah, why not?” Neil agreed. 

“Is a six-pack enough?”

"Uh, maybe…” Neil considered, turning over his shoulder to look at you.  “Kid, how many beers are you gonna want?”

You swallowed nervously.  “Um, I… well, I’m not coming.  I’ve got a date, actually.”

Of course it was just assumed that you would be there; you felt a little guilty admitting you wouldn’t, to the point that you almost considered just skipping said date and staying to avoid the awkwardness.

“Hey, great!” Jonathan said proudly, throwing his arms out wide.

“A date, huh?” Neil noticed, looking happily surprised.  “Sorry, I— I didn’t know— you didn’t say anything—”

“No, it’s cool,” you shook your head, “it’s kind of a last minute thing… you know how they’re showing Rope at the Palace tonight?  I met this, um, this guy the other day and we got to talking, and I asked him if he’d wanna come with me.”

“Rope, wow, that’s a great first date movie,” Neil nodded approvingly, “that sounds perfect.”

“Yeah— he hasn’t seen it, actually,” you admitted, smiling nervously, “so I guess how much he likes it will kinda be a good judge of if he’s worth going out again, right?”

Jonathan nodded approvingly, but Neil seemed skeptical.  "Well, the showing isn't until nine— you can at least hang out until the movie starts, right?"

"I've gotta get home and get changed!" you explained 

"You can't wear that to a date?" Lucien wondered.

"No!" you scoffed, looking down at your ripped jeans and Dracula t-shirt.  "Besides, I have this whole plan of what I'm gonna wear— remember when we did Bonnie and Clyde for Halloween?"

Neil was Bonnie and you were Clyde, in fact; he looked shockingly good in that blood-red lipstick, you tried to convince him to wear it again but he insisted it was a one-night-only situation.  

"I figure if I wear my Clyde suit, I'll look kinda like James Stewart!"

"You're doing drag on a first date?" Lucien pressed, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, lighten up, I'm just dressing up for the movie— I'll still, you know, try to look pretty," you assured.  "What, I don't look good in a suit?  'Cause I got a lot of compliments on Halloween—"

"No, hey, go for it," Jonathan decided, "it's festive!"

"I think it's cool," Neil agreed.  "Have fun, alright?  And if he creeps you out or something, call the store number and I'll come get you."

"I'm not really worried about—"

"You know? Just call the store when you get home," Neil decided, "so I'll know you didn't get murdered."

"Dude, chill," you groaned.  "We're going to the movies, not, I don't know… hiking off-trail in the middle of the night."

You never agreed to call, but you did him one better: you ended up coming back to the video store afterwards, a bit over two hours later.  Of course, the guys were still on the couch— apparently the movie was over but they were watching anime (undoubtedly something Jonathan had brought as a palate cleanser after the movie).

They all looked over at you when you came in the front door and the little bell rang; they seemed excited to see you, and presumably to interrogate you about the date.  You sighed, knowing you couldn't have expected anything else, but you'd come here hoping they'd let you watch something with them so you could stop thinking about the date.

“How’d it go, hot stuff?” Jonathan purred, and you rolled your eyes as Lucien wolf-whistled.

“Oh yeah, it was awesome, best first date ever— I’m at his place having sex with him right now,” you frowned as you tossed your purse down onto the couch, and Lucien chuckled while Neil looked a little defeated.  

“Not that great, huh?” Neil noticed.

“Was he a creep?” Jonathan assumed.

“Did he think the movie was bad?” Lucien pressed.

“No, no, he was great,” you sighed, “he loved the movie.  We talked about it for a bit afterwards and he seemed to really understand it.”

“Okay!  That’s good, right?” Jonathan said optimistically.

“Yeah— so good that I asked him when we could do this again,” you recalled, “and he said that he didn’t wanna lead me on and he wasn’t interested in seeing me.”

“What?!” Jonathan yelped, while Neil winced a little.

“He said I was really cool and funny and easy to talk to,” you explained, “but that he didn’t feel any chemistry.”

“Chemistry?” Lucien repeated, confused.

“He means he’s not attracted to me,” you clarified.

“What?” Jonathan scoffed again.  “Why not?”

“I don’t know!” you whined, but you did know.  “I think I’m just, like, friend material.  I’m just ‘one of the guys’, you know?  Not somebody you actually wanna be with.”

“But isn’t that what every guy wants?  To date somebody who’s just ‘one of the guys’?” Lucien noticed, and then paused when everyone gave him an inquisitive look. “That sounded way less gay in my head.  You get what I mean, right?”

“As much as I would love to never let you live that down,” Jonathan smirked, “you’re not wrong— like, a chick who can hang.  That’s the best.”

“Well, here I am!  Hanging!” you snapped.  “Where’s my harem of suitors just desperate to date one of the guys?!”

“I mean, you are wearing a suit…” Neil noticed, getting a little defensive when you groaned and dropped your head back.  “No, no, you look cool!  I mean, you look really great.  I’m not sure what he wasn’t seeing.”

"Maybe he's got a girlfriend!" Jonathan suggested.  "And he was gonna cheat but he chickened out."

"Maybe he's intimidated by strong women," Lucien added, sounding more like he was quoting a Cosmo than actually thinking that.

"Respectfully, guys aren't that complicated," you assured.  "If he wanted me, he would.  He doesn't.  It's not that deep."

Neil looked away when you said that.

"Well, come take a seat on the losers couch," Jonathan offered, but Neil sitting next to him frowned.

"You think I'm a loser?" Neil protested.

"No, I was talking about that couch," Jonathan said as he pointed to the other one which Lucien was on.

"I'm not even offended," Lucien decided, patting the spot next to him.  "I'd rather be a loser with you than a winner with anybody else."

You smiled and plopped down next to him, pulling your legs up on the old sofa and finding the best angle to see the TV from.  "Okay, catch me up," you requested, bracing for the barrage of borderline nonsensical exposition about whatever obscure anime Jonathan was forcing on the group this time.

~

Since the store closed at eight on Tuesdays, you and Neil decided to go out for a late dinner after locking up— the nearest place you usually walked to was a little hole-in-the-wall dishing out Thai fusion, and even though there were open tables inside, you took your paper boxes outside to eat together on a bench.

You each sat up on it with your legs crossed, facing each other, while he poked at his fried rice with his fork and you stirred your noodles with the chopsticks.

“The Palace is still doing their Hitchcock screenings on Sundays,” you recalled, “I think the next one is Rear Window.  We could make Lucien man the store and go see it together?”

“Yeah, let’s do it,” he smiled.  “But we gotta sneak in the candy, that place is getting so overpriced…”

“Well, that’s a given,” you laughed.�� “When I went on my date there I had Sour Patch Kids in my bag, but I was kinda craving Reese’s by the time the movie started..."

"That guy sounded like an ass, by the way," Neil announced with a frown.

"Oh, no, it's fine," you dismissed.  "He was really nice, even when he blew me off, and I… I guess I wasn’t really expecting it to go anywhere, anyways.”

“Really?” Neil scoffed.  “Then why’d you ask him out?”

Just in case.  “I… I guess I’m trying to put myself out there more?”

“Huh?  You’re trying to put out more?” Neil joked.

You rolled your eyes and unfolded your legs to kick him playfully.  “You know what I mean,” you groaned.

“Yeah, yeah,” he admitted, “and I support it.  It’s sort of insane that you’re still single.”

“Wow, thanks for the pep talk,” you rolled your eyes before shoving a thick swirl of spicy-sweet noodles in your mouth.

“No!  I mean, like, I can’t believe you’re single,” he clarified, and you smiled somewhat awkwardly while chewing your mouthful.  “You’re smart and fun and cool and pretty—”

Thanks to the food in your mouth, you didn’t have to worry about coming up with a way to respond to that, so you just shrugged.

“Seriously!” he insisted.  “I mean, guys hit on you at the store— I wish somebody who actually deserved your attention would walk in that place.”

The guy I want is already there every day.  Swallowing, you finally got a chance to talk to him again.  “Thanks,” you sighed, “it’s fine, though.  I mean, I’ve been single this long— I think I’ll survive.”

“Keep waiting for the right one, okay?” he encouraged, and your heart swelled.

“I will,” you promised, sounding more wistful than you meant to.

After a brief lull in the conversation, he cleared his throat and continued.  “Hey, um, while we’re on the topic of Sunday, about the whole fuck-marry-kill thing—”

“I’m sorry,” you offered right away, “I shouldn’t have answered that.  I wasn’t being serious, obviously.”

“No, I wanted to apologize,” he returned, “I shouldn’t have pressed you on your answer.  It was funny.  And it wasn’t like you could say you were gonna kill one of us.”

You snorted.  “Yeah, that one was probably the worst of the three.”

“But I shouldn’t have asked you about what you would’ve done to me,” he shook his head, “I was making it weird.  So, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you assured.  “Did you really expect me to say I would marry you?”

“No,” he admitted, “I thought you’d say you’d fuck me, marry Lucien and kill Jonathan.”

“What?” you scoffed, though you were still smiling.  “Why?”

“Well, Lucien would definitely make the best husband of the three of us,” he explained, “and Jonathan was the only one who wouldn’t have gotten butthurt about you saying you’d kill him.  He probably would’ve just asked you to give him a nice send-off, y’know…”

You nodded in agreement, wondering if he was going to address the obviously missing third piece of all this… he sure was staring down into his empty fried rice container with intense focus…

“And, you know, as for me,” he began sort of thinly, “I, um… I guess I just figured, you know, you’re the most comfortable with me.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, “obviously, but maybe that would make it worse?  Like, at least with Jonathan, I know that if we ever did hook up or something, it probably wouldn’t mess up our friendship.  ‘Cause we’re friendly and all, but it’s not so serious.  But with you…”

“Uh huh, well, that’s why it’s good it’s just a game,” Neil finished for you, chucking his trash in the nearest can.  “Don’t have to worry about any of that stuff.  Least of all you and I being married.  Talk about a disaster.”

You choked on your throat.  “Yeah.  No kidding…”

“Well, anyways,” he sighed, standing up from the bench and stretching for a moment, “wanna come over and see if the game’s still on?”

“Oh, um, I’m just gonna go back to my place,” you decided, throwing away the last couple bites of your food on account of your suddenly-lost appetite.  “Kinda thinking I should get my sleep schedule in order.”

“That’s good,” he nodded, “I respect that.  Have a good night, then, kid.”

“Yeah, you too,” you breathed, waving as he turned and walked off into the night, tucking his hands into his jean pockets.  

You looked down at your lap, taking a deep breath and shutting your eyes for a second.  Did he have to be so sweet just to cut you down like that?  Could he have even known how it would hurt you to say that?

It’s not even like he was wrong, but you were dying to ask him why he was so sure that you and him together would be so bad.  What was wrong with you that he still couldn’t see you that way?

Not interested in this repetitive thought cycle anymore, and being very familiar with where it leads, you got up and started to walk down the street.  You didn’t turn to go to your apartment, though; you kept going until you heard live music— scratchy, whiny guitars and throbbing bass drums— seeping out of the club.  You just needed to be somewhere familiar that wasn’t the video store or home; and, this place conveniently also had liquor.

You slipped inside— hit by a wave of sound as you entered— and took a seat at the bar, half-listening to the band that was playing, pretending to be focused at all on what was going on in the outside world rather than just spiraling into your own thoughts inside your head.

“Hey,” Jonathan nodded at you from the other side of the bar, and you nodded back.  He instantly started looking for Neil— of course he would— and you deflated a bit.  “You here alone?” he noticed.

“Yeah,” you shrugged.

“Wow,” he smirked, “it’s like when Peter Pan’s shadow escaped.”

You should’ve probably been offended by that, but it wasn’t worth denying— and you were more interested in getting liquored up than justifying that you did, in fact, have a life outside of Neil.

And, actually, Peter Pan was a pretty good way to describe Neil, too.  Fear of commitment, leader of freaks and outcasts, daydreamer… all he needed was some green tights.  “What are you drinking tonight?” Jonathan finally asked.

“What pairs well with feeling completely unattractive and unlovable?” you sighed.

“Well, that would be my drink of choice: whiskey,” he smiled, setting a bottle down in front of you.  “I’ll do a shot with you.”

He poured you both a shot, and you timed it to shoot it back together; he, obviously, took it better than you, and you cringed from the acidic flavor.  "Jesus, people really drink this on purpose?" you grumbled.

"Yeah, give it a few minutes," he assured, "it's gonna numb all those stupid emotions."

"I don't have a few minutes," you sighed, "do you have anything more fast-acting?"

"Yeah— a second shot," he joked, but you nodded in agreement.  "Okay, shit, you're not messing around tonight."

"Nope," you agreed, watching him pour just one shot this time.  "You're not doing it with me?"

"I need to pace myself, I'm here 'til two," he explained.

He slid it to you and you contemplated it for a moment, before forcing yourself to get it down as quickly as possible to avoid the burn.  You still grimaced, but recovered quickly.

"Is it working yet?" he wondered.

"I guess," you answered half-heartedly.

“Well, you could always gush to the bartender about all your problems?” he offered, but you just shrugged it off.  “Come on, you wouldn’t be the first tonight.  And since I know you, I might actually be able to help.”

“I don’t think you can help with this one,” you assured.  “This problem has been going on longer than you’ve been around.”

“Oh?” he pressed.  “Let me guess… boy troubles?”

“Isn’t it always?” you scoffed, irritated that he saw through you that quickly— apparently your reputation of being horrible with men preceded you.

“But this is just one boy,” he presumed.  “One boy who… conspicuously isn’t here tonight…”

“Is it that obvious?” you wondered with a whine, dropping your head in your hand.

“Well, if you weren’t having any issues with him, you’d be with him,” Jonathan guessed— and it wasn’t bad logic.

“But, like, does everyone know?” you wondered.  “Does everyone but him know that I’m in love with him?  Oh god, Jonathan, you don’t think he knows, do you?”

“Wait— love?” he repeated, and you swallowed thickly as you realized the whiskey had already gotten you to say too much.  “You… you’re…”

“Okay, so I guess not everyone knows,” you mumbled.

“No, yeah, I think you managed to keep that under wraps,” he assured with a nod, eyes getting wider.  “Sheesh.  No, I had no clue.  Now it’s even weirder that you guys aren’t together.”

“Well, he doesn’t love me,” you explained flatly.

“Did he tell you that?”

“No, god no— I mean, he tells me he loves me,” you corrected, “but he doesn’t mean— we just say that, you know, like at the end of phone calls or when one of us is sad.  It’s not, like… we never meant it that way.”

“Right, okay,” Jonathan nodded as he wiped a glass— the way bartenders do when they’re listening to people— but he didn’t seem to understand entirely.  “So, you’re not his type?”

“I don’t think I know what his type is,” you scoffed.  “I haven’t really noticed a pattern, have you?”

“You’d have to have a few more data points to really draw any connection between them,” Jonathan laughed.

“Yeah, fair,” you smiled, “he’s only had… I don’t know, maybe four girlfriends since I’ve known him?  One in high school, for a month— then Eva, they weren’t even really serious, just dating for a while.  And then, uh—”

“Tanisha,” he remembered.

“Right!  I liked her,” you hummed.

“What happened to her again?” he wondered.

“Got back with her ex,” you recalled.

“Wow, that blows,” Jonathan sighed.  

“She told me before she told him,” you admitted.  “She wanted me to tell him for her, actually, but I… I couldn’t do that to him.  But I came over right after, you know, and we ate ice cream from the tub and watched movies ‘til we fell asleep.”

Jonathan made a sort of face, one you couldn’t quite interpret, and you tilted your head as he seemed to mumble to himself.  

“What?” you wondered.

“Nothing, it’s just… he’s kind of an idiot,” Jonathan decided.  “I don’t think he gets how lucky he is.”

You wrinkled your brows together, laughing a bit.  “What do you mean?”

“Look, I’m not saying he’s, like, legally obligated to fall in love with you just because you guys get along so well,” he clarified, “even if that’s what Neil accused me of thinking— I really do think it’s fine for men and women to just be friends.”

“So, what are you saying?”

“I’m just saying… like, how do you have someone who cares about you that much, and you end up dating fucking Denise for almost a year?!”

“Well, nobody knows how he ended up with Denise,” you coughed.  “That was a fucking disaster.”

“I mean, not to be crass, but, uh,” he stumbled a little over his words, “I’m surprised that you coming over after that breakup didn’t turn into a rebound, at least.”

“After eating that much ice cream?” you laughed.  “That would’ve been awful.”

“But really, though,” he insisted.  “I have a hard time believing the thought didn’t even cross his mind…”

“I can’t really be sure that it didn’t,” you admitted, “I’m just saying, nothing happened.”

“I guess he’s just known you too long to go for it with you,” Jonathan shrugged.

“It’s not just that— you know Neil, he’s kind of an adrenaline junkie,” you rolled your eyes, “or at least he thinks he is.  He wants adventure, I guess— and he always talks about us doing spontaneous stuff but it never happens— and I’m just too familiar.  Too comfortable.”

“Yeah, he does kinda have something against stability,” Jonathan agreed, “do you think it’s a divorced parents thing?”

“I don’t know, I stopped analyzing that a long time ago,” you groaned, “and I told myself I would stop trying to be what I thought he wanted, but I think I keep doing it.”

“Well, I know you know him better than anybody,” Jonathan countered, “but I know guys, and that guy… there’s no way he thinks of you as just a friend.”

“Why do you think that?” 

“Because he was fucking lying when he said it wouldn’t piss him off if we hooked up,” he insisted.

“You really won’t let that go, will you?” you grinned.

“Did you see his face?  He couldn’t get the image out of his head!” Jonathan assured confidently.  “And then that whole ‘fuck marry kill’ thing— he started getting nervous, I think.”

“Nervous about what?”

“That something could really happen with us!”

“You really think he would care?” you frowned.

“I swear to— to Ash Williams,” he decided, “that if I walked into that fucking video store, and told him that you and I did whiskey shots and you came back to my place and we did the horizontal tango, he would beat me to death with the register.”

“You swear on Ash Williams?” you repeated with a smirk, knowing that meant more than swearing on any deity would mean.

“Him and his chainsaw hand,” Jonathan assured, putting a hand over his heart to add to the bit, and you giggled.

“Well, I don’t think Neil can pick up the register,” you decided.

“In that case, you let me know the next time you wanna get back at him for something,” he offered with a wink, and you smiled at him sympathetically.

“I know you’re trying to be nice,” you sighed, “but you don’t have to do that.”

“Hey, come on,” he frowned, “I know you’ve got this I’m insecure I’m a weirdo nobody notices me thing, but you can’t actually think it would be some kind of charity work for me to sleep with you—”

“No, I don’t mean that,” you sighed, “I know I could get laid if I wanted to—”

“But you don’t wanna get laid,” he finished for you, “you wanna be loved.”

You sighed again, even harder.  “Yeah,” you nodded.

“I know,” he agreed.  “And you know I love you, but—”

“But not like that,” you took your turn finishing his sentence.

His only reply was raising the bottle of whiskey with a sideways smile, a silent offer to pour another shot— for both of you this time.

“Yes, please,” you hummed, watching him fill the miniature glasses with a sigh.

part 2

[yandere-kokeshi]

NSFW Alphabet Of Yandere John “Captain” Price

Warnings: Pure filth – MINORS DNI!

A/N: Like the last post, Price won! Feel free to participate in the next poll for these guys! <3

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

— It’s natural for him to care for you afterward, deeming it his second-favorite part. John’s hands are grasping at you, his warm voice praising you as he kisses your cheeks. He lovingly drags his thumb and fingers over your moles, scars, and many marks, before playfully rubbing his beard into your neck, chuckling at your squealing expression. It only lasts a few minutes before he swiftly gets up, the bed creaking from his weight, and looking over at you with a smile. 

John effortlessly enjoys sharing non-sexual bath time after a few sessions. He loves starting it, the bath filling up the tub, warming up and bathing with you, dragging the soaked rag around your stiffen areas, such as your shoulders and back. It relaxes him in some way. 

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

— For himself, he’s most proud of his physique – mostly his shoulders and hands. They’re both rough in many aspects, having prominent veins, and a different variety of scars. Even though they’ve done bad things, he uses them to pleasure you in many ways; digging the knots out of your back, or throwing your legs over his shoulders and making you cum with his hands. It’s useful in many aspects, no?

As for you, it’s a mixture of your hips and ass. Both of them are squeezed so often, that it’s sure he’s obsessed. But he never denies it when asked. They’re constantly being harassed by his hands by grasping, pinching, stroking, kissing, and biting them. Would happily spend all day on and in them if he could. He smirks like a mad man if you’re on the chubbier side, feeling the plump flesh escape between his fingers. It’s like heaven towards him. 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

— Jonathon has a lot of it stored, which means he enjoys doing it in all of your holes. He prefers being inside of you when he cums, but when he can’t, he leaves your others overflowing with his thick cum, including your mouth, and expects you to swallow. His favorite thing to do is to scoop it up, slowly fuck it back into you with his thick fingers to ensure you know his rules. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

— When he knows you two are going to be separated for a long period of time, somehow a pair of your boxers makes it into his pocket as he does the washing. 

When he’s in his office, alone, all pent-up from the day, and needs something relieving, he finds your sweet smell the most intoxicating. He can finish in minutes with your scent of you pressed against his nose. And whilst it isn’t as good with him buried between your legs or having you on top of his lap, he enjoys cumming and dampening the fabric; satisfying his need, at least for now. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

— More experienced than he’d like to be. It’s no surprise he’s a proud man who likes to take his time meeting someone – which means night stands are off the table. In the past, John has had a few partners, men and women, nor is he afraid of saying it when questioned. Which means he knows a handful of tricks up his sleeves. 

So, when it comes down to you, he takes time with you. He loves getting to know your body, what makes you squirm, zip up, or make you the loudest. He’s a fast learner, and once he gets the hang of things, he gets the hang of it. 

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

— He prefers the good ol’ missionary and table-top. Jonathan enjoys seeing your face, watching how your nose scrunches in pleasure or the loud shrieks you give out. However, he really doesn’t mind other positions too; it just depends on the mood, pace, and place. 

However, having sex at his office and on his desk? Definitely makes him wild. 

G = Goofy (are they more serious at the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

— John isn’t all serious, but he’s certainly not telling jokes in bed either. He likes hearing your pleasure giggles, or gentle smiles whilst being intimate. He can’t help but smile in response, but undoubtedly zips you up, making your toes curl when he hits that sweet spot early. 

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

— John is hairy, deemed a ‘chunky bear’. He has dark-brown curls that are obnoxiously long, as well having a hairy chest and stomach that could be said, ‘out of control’. However, with how much care he takes with his mutton chops, he keeps everything downstairs equal; not too long nor too short, just the right length for you. 

As for you, he couldn’t care less. If you decide to shave, he’ll enjoy the smooth skin and suggest things on how not to cut yourself. And if you don’t? He’ll enjoy it just as much and make sure to have you screaming, and your eyes rolled by the end of it.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? The romantic aspect)

— It depends on the context, but he’s always a natural gentleman with a capitalized G. Always paying you extra attention during foreplay, and not rushing through. Being visibly romantic for special occasions like holidays, anniversaries, or birthday’s. He loves pampering you every time he can, words and soft touches included; slower, sensual moments, pressing his forehead to yours part way through the session. Holding you tight during sex, and squishes your hips as he cums, keeping the closeness into his aftercare. 

But, if he’s been away from you – it’s rough, desperate, and too possessive to the point you can’t even leave the bedroom after cumming a few times. His arms are gluing you to him. 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

— He rather ignores his needs, as much as he’d rather deny it. He doesn’t use porn to satisfy himself; rather, restraining his needs till he can see you. Which, funnily enough, makes him more desperate as he tries to keep his obvious erection down as he works in his office. But, it only resorts to nagging him more, causing him to be frustrated and snappy – but, he can always rely on you, his beloved darling, right? A phone call won’t hurt.  

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks — named 4)

Breeding: Regardless of your gender, he loves filling you up where it overflows. But it’s more in a possessive strike, wanting you to be tied to him forever. Regardless, it feels filthy, filling, and extremely warm to stay in. And John enjoys every part of it like a nasty man he is. 

Cockwarming: After a hard day, whether at work or simply socializing when he doesn’t want to, he enjoys spending the rest of the few hours balls deep in you. It doesn’t lead to sex all the time. He enjoys feeling your warmth, your own head buried in his neck to muffle the pleasured sounds, and your body soon-quivering makes his pride swarm inside. 

Hair pulling: He mostly likes it on him. Jonathan enjoys feeling your fingers dig through his locks, stump nails scratching at his scalp before yanking his hair in pleasure. To him, it shows he’s doing a damn good job. But he also likes the spike of slight pain.

Teasing: It sides with edging. John adores making you beg for him, lingering touches that disappear too fast or too slow. A kiss that’s too addicting and you need more. Yet, he chuckles and makes you work for it. 

L = Location (favorite places to have intercourse)

— He prefers somewhere private, an atmosphere that’s comfortable and familiar. He likes it behind closed doors, taking his beloved with respect. So naturally, the bedroom and the house are his go-to; the kitchen being his second-favorite. 

However, he really enjoys doing it in his quarters, in his office, and in his chair.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

— It’s two things: you and his sensitive nipples. He gets turned on easily, the way your face lights up when you see him, how you react in such a natural, obedient way that has his cock tightening in his boxers. But, his nipples are just as reactive. Even a slight glide over his teats has John have an aching issue that needs to be solved now.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

— Anything involving physically harming you, degradation, or blood. He’s also hesitant to bring his own work to bed, the word Captain, specifically. He’s fine with a little breath play, or small spanking, but anything beyond, ‘the beyond’, is an immediate no. 

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

— Likes them both equally; perfect balance. They both make him happy. 

As for you, John is more appealing to giving you oral than the reverse. He could spend hours between your legs, holding your hips down and taking his time on making you cum. Or bringing you to the edge, again and again, but denying you when you’ve been bad. His favorite way to reward you is to bend you over the table or push your chest to the bed, perfectly presenting your ass to him. His fingers spread you open, and his tongue will go everywhere. 

For him, he adores you sucking his cock. He’d never deny an offer when given the chance. John likes the way your lips look around him, watching you take him whole. Feeling your tongue against his length. Fucking your face when he’s near his own orgasm, grinding and bucking his hips in desperation when you decide to tease him. It makes him rowdy and demanding. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

— It varies, depending on both of your moods and the time when he comes home. But one thing is that it’s never one pace. It either starts with him being incredibly hot, heavy, and rough; giving you many hickeys over your body and being a sly man for edging then slowing down over time. The deep, hard strokes and thrusts that leave you breathless and responding in moans. 

Or being really slow and sensual, savoring every moment that he touches you and builds up to a heavy pace. His hands finding your hips, grinding his pelvic bone against yours and chuckling at your gasped state. His balls slapping against your body as he huffs at the 2nd round. 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

— Not a fan. He prefers the real deal, wanting to feel and touch you before making you cum a few times; practically savoring you. But, you will never catch him denying a chance to fuck you. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

— He’s open to whatever idea you want to express. As long as they don’t go along his ‘no’s’, he’s all going for it. 

As for risks, they’re a big part of his life. However, getting caught doing anything sexual, especially by one of his trusted men or god forbid Laswell, could ruin his career and let alone his mental state. Though, he does think – maybe even could persuade you – into being forced to be quiet, especially in an area where you wouldn’t necessarily want to be in, is kind of arousing. The adrenaline, the completely unaware people around the base, your attempts to remain quiet makes his pleasure spike. He would love to try it, wouldn’t you like too? 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

— Whilst he may not be the same 20-year-old he once was, he can still last a few. John can manage two rounds, three on a perfect day, but pushing it has him cranky. And he’s usually able to last a bit, but that depends on how you feel. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

— He’s not a fan of them, seeing that he, himself, can pleasure you in ways that are better than some silicone. However, if you’ve been bad, the yes. Expect some toys — and anal — to come into play until you can start acting right.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

— A big tease. Drags things out so agonizing that it leaves you on the bridge of crying. He’ll slick himself along your entrance, thrust in a pace he knows you love, praising and grunting dirty words in your ear until you’re right there–…! Only for Jonathon to smirk, commanding you to stay put until he says you can move. His fingers play with your nipples, gently pulling as he finally pushes you over the edge and makes you cum too many to count as make-up. 

John will also send you messages, some risky photos or rather promises of what’s to come later that night and what he’s going to do to you once you two are home. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

— He’s loud in aspects of talking. Praises, dirty talk that turn into long muffled groans. Shuffles between low growls, grunts, and moans – a definite habit of more subtle sounds and signs of pleasure. A throaty low growl when he enters you, voice going up in pitch before he cums, and noses your neck, fingers squeezing your skin when he gets territorial. 

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

— He really enjoys breakfast in bed. His fake meal is a large plate with 3 sunny-side-up eggs, waffles with extra butter, and crispy bacon. But, he wants you for breakfast each morning when he can. It’s his favorite, especially waking you up with slurred moans.  

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes ;))

— John is around 6.5 inches, extremely thick, heavy in a sense he bounces whenever he takes off his boxers, and stretches most holes; it takes a lot of prepping. Circumcised, his foreskin doesn’t cover all the way, just enough for his tip to peak through. Has some prominent veins, thick and fat, where you can feel it. He has a full rug trail.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

— It’s not through the roof, but it isn’t low either; in-the-between. He can control himself if needed. When he’s home, you guys have sex a few times a week. Much more if he’s stressed or annoyed. But one thing is sure, you’ll know it’s at its peak for him.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

— Contrary to popular belief, he doesn’t get up and smoke a fat cigar. Instead, he stays with you – huddled beneath you in the warm sheets, your head laying on top of his chest and his own arm hanging over you. He hums in appreciation when you wrap your arms around it, cuddling it closer to you. 

Likely, he falls asleep first, but can you blame him? He’s a busy man, with a busy life, and a hell of a token that he calls you. Though, don’t think of sneaking away – his hold on you is very tight for a reason. 

—

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© yandere-kokeshi 2024 — Do not copy, modify, edit, repost, or use my works for ASMR readings, tiktoks, or other content.

[dstryvampres]

Smoke Signals

Jonathan Crane x Reader

Summary: Dr Crane is tired of you talking back.

Warnings: smut, fingering, age gap(reader is early 20s, crane is mid 40s), power imbalance, brat taming(I think??), reader is a smoker, dub con, p in v, unprotected, praise, degradation, spanking, creampie

Word count: 2.2k

The trek to Dr Crane office on the fifth floor was quick and easy, seeing as there was no one else using the elevator because it was so late at night. When you push open the door to Dr Crane’s office it creaks, alerting him immediately to your presence.

“I thought I told you to quit smoking before you come to my office,” is what Dr Crane decides on greeting you with. His face is stern, pen in hand as he writes out a statement on a student’s quiz.

“Yeah, well I was fiending all day and they don’t let you have a smoke within 15 meters of the psychology testing centre. Hard to get a smoke break in,” You quip back, hanging your tote bag over the back of a chair before sliding between it and Dr Crane’s desk to sit.

“Well, if you won’t quit all together, you could at least have the common courtesy to not reek of it near me,” He scoffs, clicking his pen and setting it down on his desk.

You toy with the fabric of your sheer black tights as Dr Crane sets aside whatever he was working on before and brings out two sheets of paper. Two rubrics, one for him, which he settles in front of him, and one for you, which he flips towards you.

“Do you want anything to drink?” Dr Crane asks, standing up from his desk and heading towards the table near the window. He clicks on the kettle, staring at it for a couple seconds before he starts to hear it bubble up before he turns to you again.

“Just any tea is fine, except ginger, I want something herbal tonight,” you reply, rummaging through your tote bag looking for a pen to use for tonight.

“So herbal tea?” Jonathan asks, shaking his head at you in the corner of your eye.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I said,” you sit up straight once again when you find your pencil case, plopping it down on Dr Crane’s darkwood desk.

You hear a sigh from the professor as he turns around to look out the window at the rain, his fingers toying around with the packaging of a tea bag. No matter if Dr Crane happens to be your boss, you can’t deny that he’s insanely attractive. Young looking face with high cheekbones, blue eyes that stare holes into your being, dark brown hair that he somehow styles perfectly without trying that hard, all packaged in suits that do him far too many favours. Sure he has a slightly bitter attitude, but you’re no better. With all the times you snap back and push his buttons he’s far too patient with you, and seems to genuinely care about your well being. Whether that care is actually genuine or is just to avoid having to find another TA, you’re not one hundred percent sure.

A click comes from the kettle, and soon enough Dr Crane sets down a steaming mug in front of you before sliding into his own chair with a mug in his hand.

“Thank you,” you say, blowing on the steaming liquid in hopes to cool it down quicker.

“Don’t burn yourself.”

Dr Crane grabs his pen before directing both of your attention to the rubric and assignment guide. He drones on about the basics, word count, percentage to dock based off of just principle things, before delving into more important specifics to the assignment. For a supposed research essay, the need to include the students own fears into the mix was a weird choice to be a necessity. There’s no need to ask about it, the conditions for the assignment have already been set in stone, the due date is in about a week.

“Everything making sense?” Dr Crane asks, looking at you, eyebrows furrowed together.

You nod in response, reaching over to grab a highlighter from Dr Crane’s collection across the table. Maybe you should bring up the weird conditions of the assignment…

“Actually, just one thing confuses me about this assignment,” You start, looking for any signs of anger from Dr Crane, knowing just how often you seem to push his buttons before continuing, “why do the students need to disclose their own fears in this assignment, it’s supposed to be a research essay on different ways the brain copes with fear.”

Dr Crane clenches his jaw, looking away from you annoyed. Acting like you were questioning the fundamentals of grammar and not some strange one off point he decided to add to this assignment. He shakes his head, taking off his glasses and laying them down on the table.

“You’re not the one running the class, are you?” Dr Crane asks, voice showing just thin his patience has become in a matter of seconds.

“Well, obviously not, but I’m just-”

You’re cut off with the screeching of Dr Crane’s chair as he stands up, walking towards the door. Fuck, is he going to leave? Is he going to ask you to leave? Are you being fired out of one of the best looking jobs on your resume? When you hear the click of the lock on the door, you’re not sure if your fate is better or worse than any of the options thought of before. Nevertheless, your body tenses up and your head starts to fog up, whatever is going to happen you don’t think it will be too pleasant.

“You know what? I’m so sick of you always thinking you know better than me,” He slowly walks over to you as he speaks, shoes clicking on the linoleum floor of his office.

“I don’t think that,” you respond, voice strained. Now he’s standing over where you’re seated, forcing you to look upwards at him. You feel so small and powerless in this moment. Maybe, it’s only now and here, in this position, that you finally remember that this man holds your entire future as a psychologist in his hands.

“I want you to remember who has more leverage here, who can get you into the best jobs in the state,” it’s like he can read your mind.

You gulp and close your eyes. You’ve spent the last year and three months of your masters degree and time as a TA under Dr Crane pushing back against him, challenging the man. You’re sure that it’s here, in his locked office that he will give you a piece of his mind before dropping you completely. Leaving you and your master’s thesis to flounder in the last half of it, beg for anyone to aid you in the specific thesis everyone knew only Crane was suitable to supervise at this university. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Please, don’t drop me and my thesis. I won’t challenge you ever again, I’ll do anything you want, please,” you beg, opening your eyes to stare at Crane’s. Hoping the eye contact would connect with some deeper part of him, but his blue eyes stared back, cold and emotionless.

“Anything?” Crane asks, quirking an eyebrow at your begging.

“Yes, anything. I’ll get on my knees and beg you, I’ll mark every assignment myself-”

“Face the table and put your hands on top of it,” Crane demands.

“What?” Your mind short circuits at his request, not expecting something like that.

“I thought you said you weren’t going to challenge me ever again?” Dr Crane sighs, crossing his arms, waiting for you to obey.

You follow his request, placing both your hands on the table, looking down at the dark oak wood. It’s cold underneath your palms, but that doesn’t help with the sweat accumulating onto your palms. Dr Crane hums behind you, seemingly happy with your compliance to his request. He kicks your feet away from the desk, making your butt stick out more.

“Now, I want you to spread your legs for me,” Dr Crane puts a hand on your ass, squeezing the flesh. Your eyebrows furrow, taking a second too long for his liking and earning a slap to the ass, you quickly move to spread your legs.

“Good girl,” Dr Crane hums, massaging the spot where he hit you previously. You whine in response, feeling a heat start to grow in your cunt.

Dr Crane smacks your ass again, a little lighter than before, almost teasing. His other hand is placed on your ass, both hands move down to your thighs, then back up to your ass, this time sliding under your skirt and flipping it up. Your pink panties are visible through the sheer black tights causing Dr Crane to sigh out.

“You feel how hard I am, slut?” Dr Crane asks, you hear the smirk in his voice as he presses his hard-on into your ass. You moan, feeling the weight of it press into your wet cunt and soiled panties.

Quickly Dr Crane rips open the thin fabric of your tights, allowing for direct access to your panties and cunt. He feels your wet heat through your panties, quickly moving them to the side to expose your cunt. You moan as the cold air of his office hits your cunt.

“You’re so wet. Do you let all your professors fuck you? Or am I a sort of desprate case?” Dr Crane cooes, ghosting his fingers over your exposed cunt.

He runs his fingers up and down your cunt, collecting your wetness over them before pushing them inside of you. The intrusion is so unexpected it makes you gasp, pull away from it briefly. He fucks you with his fingers shallowly, at a bored pace. You push back onto his fingers, begging for more. Dr Crane removes his finger from your cunt, and you whine in response.

“Fuck, you’re a desperate whore huh?” Dr Crane laughs, giving your ass another harsh slap.

Behind you Dr Crane unzips his pants, freeing his cock. He lines it up with your hole and just stays there. No matter how much you try to push back and whine for him to put it in he isn’t moving.

“You’ve been such a bitch, I don’t think you deserve my cock. Why don’t you beg for it?” you can hear the cocky look on Dr Crane’s face just from his voice. Though it doesn’t seem to matter much as you open your mouth to beg.

“Please Dr Crane, I’ll be such a good girl. You can use me anytime and I’ll never be a bitch again, as long as I have your cock, please doctor please,” you plead, wiggling your hips.

“Good girl.”

Dr Crane pushes inside of you. His cock is average length, but stretches you out in a way no other man ever has. It makes your head spin as he spears you on his cock.

“Fuck, I didn’t expect a whore like you to be so tight,” Dr Crane pants out, putting both of his hands on your waist.

He pulls out of you slowly, before slamming back into your cunt. Setting a brutal pace as soon as he slams back into you a second time. Only faltering when he smacks your ass. You yelp out each time, before pushing back onto his cock. Dr Crane continually stretched you out and hit the most sensitive spots inside of you. Your legs start to shake half way through, the only thing stopping you from crumbling being Dr Crane’s cock and hands. He pushes you back on him each time, almost demanding you take him in further.

“You fuck me so good doctor,” you moan out, “Can I cum doctor?”

“Yeah, cum all over my cock dumb slut,” Dr Crane says, speeding up the pace.

One of his hands reaches down from your hips to your clit, rubbing fast and hard on it. A touch so hard and borderline painful on the sensitive bundle of nerves tips you over the edge in mere seconds. Your knees buckle. Stars flood your vision. Your boss fucking you through the whole thing.

You start to weep from overstimulation, tears welling in your eyes when you come back from your high. Dr Crane is still fucking you in the same brutal pace.

“Sluts like you don’t get breaks until I come too,” Dr Crane snarls out at you and your weeping, earning another sharp smack to your ass.

The tears spill out over your eyes as you cum again all over his cock. Your walls clenching and seizing around Dr Crane so hard his cock becomes painful as it pumps in and out of you.

He speeds up and his pace starts to become more aggressive, until Dr Crane stills inside of you. His cum rushes into your cunt, holding himself inside you after both of you have finally come down from your high. Once Dr Crane pulls out of you, you feel as his cum comes spilling out of your cunt.

“I’ll give you your share of the papers to mark next monday,” Dr Crane says, tucking his cock away and zipping up his pants. “I expect to not hear any confusion about the grading from you, I feel like I explained myself pretty well.

taglist: @paradiseprincesss @xanaxiii @luluartpop

[eiightysixbaby]

breathing deeply, walking backwards

roller coaster, favorite ride, let me kiss you one last time

word count: 5.7k

pairing: best friend!eddie x fem!reader

summary: an evening at the fair leads to a big confession from your best friend (who you just so happen to have feelings for)

cw: mentions of food/eating, friends to lovers, use of y/n, and that’s literally all I can think of bc this is a bunch of sweet fluff

author’s note: this is just a sweet little idea that’s been hanging out in my brain all summer, and I’m excited to put it out there finally! it’s really just a bunch of sickeningly sweet ooey gooey fluff, the stakes are not very high here lol I just wanted to write something cute that didn’t feel as daunting to work on. I love the idea of going to the fair with eddie, so this was fun for me. enjoy!

Hawkins Fun Fair, summer of 1986. The warm air was sweet. It smelled of kettle corn and cotton candy, kissed your nose with the enticing scents and lured you in. The sun had just began to set, casting the sky in orange and violet and pink. All around you kids ran rampant, excitedly stomping over the grass with snow cones in hand. You found yourself getting lost looking at the big lightbulbs blinking on all of the carnival rides, when suddenly you felt a pair of arms wrap around your middle, picking you up and hoisting you over a shoulder.

“Eddie!” you squeal, laughing and pretending to pound on his back in protest.

“Come on, space cadet, you were trailing behind! Don’t want you to get lost now do we?” Eddie chuckles, walking quickly to keep up with the rest of your group.

Steve, Nancy, Jonathan, and Robin had all gone ahead, debating on what to do first. The kids had run off to god knows where, Lucas and Dustin arguing over which ride to go on first. You breathe in Eddie’s scent, cologne and weed and boy, and it mixes to create the most enticing combination. You want to climb into his cutoff tank-top and live there forever. Eddie finally sets you down on the ground once you’re caught up with the rest of your friends, having found them in line for some funnel cakes.

“Wanna get one to share?” Eddie asks, wiggling his eyebrows to get a laugh from you.

“Is that even a question?” you reply, already pulling out your wallet and a few dollar bills.

You give Eddie a glare that says, ‘I’m paying, so don’t even try it’ before he can protest. He usually always pays when you two go out together, even though you insist he doesn’t have to. He’s just sweet like that, always has been.

The two of you have been friends for only a short amount of time, joining forces at the start of the last school year - your first senior year and Eddie’s third (and final!). But man, did you guys get close over the span of less than a year. You’re basically attached at the hip, your other friends already knowing that if you or Eddie are invited somewhere, the other is tagging along.

The only issue is that you’ve started catching feelings for the curly haired boy you spend all of your time with. You hadn’t told him, just let the ever growing feelings consume you in silence. You’d confided only in Robin and Nancy, who both let you ramble on and on whenever you needed to. They’ve told you countless times to go for it, that Eddie would be silly not to be into you, that he totally is sweet on you, but you just can’t bring yourself to do it. What if it makes everything awkward?

What you didn’t know, was that Eddie had feelings for you, too. Big feelings, heart wrenching feelings for you. Steve and Jonathan were his confidants, his right hand men in trying to convince him to take the plunge and confess to you. Jonathan told him how he once asked Nancy if she thought you might like Eddie, to which Nancy got flustered and awkwardly denied, which he found suspicious. Of course, Eddie hardly listened to any of this. He wanted to confess to you, so badly wanted to open the doors to wonderful things if it all went right. But if you didn’t reciprocate the feelings, it could ruin everything. That was a very big ‘if’ to Eddie, and he couldn’t risk it.

So, you two were just friends. Really close friends who cuddled on the couch during movie nights and basically went on dates without calling them dates, who gave each other the biggest heart eyes constantly yet didn’t realize it.

A warm funnel cake on a paper plate is placed into your hands, Eddie grabbing a fistful of napkins beside you. The smell of the dessert wafts into your nose, making your mouth water. You delicately rip off a piece, letting the warm dough and sweet powdered sugar practically melt in your mouth.

“Mmm, so fuckin’ good,” you groan around your mouthful, licking the white powder off of your fingers rather ungracefully.

Eddie sighs blissfully as he takes his first bite, a much bigger piece of the cake than yours, and he swallows before you could even catch if he chewed it first.

“It’s almost as sweet as you,” he says, grinning as he, too licks the powdered sugar from his fingertips.

You catch Nancy and Robin giving you a look after he says it, and you blush a little under their gazes.

“What’re you buttering me up for, Munson?” you ask playfully, elbowing him in the side as the group continues to walk.

Eddie just shrugs, a smirk on his face as he continues to pick at the funnel cake. You don’t want to tear your eyes away from him, his big chocolate brown eyes so sincere when they look at you and his dark curls cascading over his shoulders, shaking when he laughs too hard. You can’t help but watch every time he brings a powder-covered finger to his mouth, licking the sweetness off of it. You swear he’s doing it slowly just to drive you crazy. You flush at all of the possible scenarios that swirl in your mind with that image and stare down at your shoes as they trod through the grass. You’re torn from your thoughts when he grabs your arm excitedly, pulling you over to a carnival game booth with huge fluffy teddy bears hanging from the backdrop.

“I am so gonna win you one of these,” he says confidently, cracking his knuckles like he’s about to kick some ass.

“Are you doing this because you want to win me a bear or because you want prove that you can win these rigged games?” you tease, watching as he rubs his hands together eagerly and passes the attendant some tickets to play.

The objective seems to be simple enough - throw some darts, pop six balloons and you win a big prize. The catch is, you only have ten darts. Eddie’s first attempt goes alright, but he only ends up popping four balloons.

“Aw, it’s okay Eds,” you say, getting ready to turn and walk away from the booth before he stops you.

“Ah-ah. Nope, no way I’m giving up that easy,” he shakes his head, handing the attendant more tickets.

You roll your eyes at his determinedness, never willing to back down from a challenge. Your heart races though, secretly loving the idea of him winning you something. His tongue pokes out of his mouth, his eyes narrowing as he eyes the targets. He wiggles his ass exaggeratedly, getting into position and making you snort. He draws his arm back, dart poised between three fingers, and then he lets go.

Pop!

He pumps his fist, flexing his biceps at you, really putting on a dramatic show for this. He’s so gorgeous you feel like you could die.

“You still have nine more to go, Munson. We’ll see if you can do it again,” you tease, hiding your affection, making him clutch his chest in mock offense.

Much to your surprise, he pops the remaining five balloons almost entirely in a row. Eddie is nothing if not competitive and determined, and his desire to win you a prize fueled him even more.

“Haha! What did I tell ya, sweets? I knew I could win,” he boasts, rocking on the balls of his feet.

The worker hands you a large, brown, fluffy teddy bear with a pink bow wrapped around its neck. You squeeze the bear with a grin, giving Eddie a hug and a thank you for winning you the prize. You hoist the bear over your shoulders so it looks like it’s sitting on them, holding onto its fuzzy legs carefully. You run ahead to catch Steve and Jonathan, who laugh at the size of the bear.

“Geez, Eddie, think you picked a big enough prize?”Steve asks.

“Mmm, no, but this was the biggest they had,” he contemplates, giving you a big smile when you meet his eyes.

You walk ahead with Steve and Jonathan, the latter turning around to mouth to Eddie, ‘ask her out!’. Eddie just laughs and shakes his head, but he can’t deny the way his heart pounds as he watches you excitedly show off your bear. Smitten with the way your eyes light up, the happy bounce in your every step.

Deciding that you’re hungry again, the funnel cake simply being a filler snack, you get in line with Eddie and Robin for some actual food to munch on, finding Max and Lucas already waiting at the same stand. Your eyes scour the small menu in indecision as you talk to Robin, and Max overhears you telling her that Eddie won the bear for you, turning to Lucas with her hands on her hips, ready to rile him up.

“See, Lucas? Why don’t you be a good boyfriend like Eddie and win me a bear?” she teases him, laughing when Lucas gets flustered and stumbles on his words.

You and Eddie avoid eye contact, Robin catching the way you squirm after Max’s implication that Eddie is your boyfriend.

“I’m not….” Eddie starts.

“He’s not my-” you say simultaneously.

But Max is no longer listening, now playfully arguing with Lucas. Your cheeks feel hot, flustered by the situation. You peer cautiously over at Eddie, whose cheeks are pink as he chews on his bottom lip - a nervous habit. He meets your eyes and gives you a sheepish little smile, before you’re taken from the moment by the food truck employee asking for your order.

The awkwardness is washed away once your food arrives, you and Eddie sharing a tray of cheese fries to go with your chili dog. You immediately retreat back into your comfortable friendly nature as you pick at the steaming pile of fries. You can’t help but wonder, though, what was going through his head when Max said what she did. He didn’t seem offended, or repulsed, or anything like that. He seemed shy and flustered just like you, nervous even. Your head spins trying to piece it together, before you’re shaken from your thoughts at Eddie reaching towards you, wiping a stray bit of gooey cheese sauce that had been left on the corner of your mouth.

“Can a girl get a warning first?” you laugh, watching him wipe the cheese on a napkin.

“Sorry, sweets, y’made a mess. Wanted to help,” he grins, knowing you can’t keep up your teasing when he flashes his smile at you.

Before you can really react, or even blush at his actions, Nancy’s calling your attention.

“Come over here, let’s get in line for this ride!” she’s beaming, Robin waiting eagerly at her side.

“Can I trust you to hold Mr. Bear while I go on this ride?” you ask Eddie, looking him over in pretend contemplation.

“Cross my heart, doll,” Eddie swears, his index finger drawing an x over his heart.

You hand him the stuffed toy, running to meet the girls in line. The ride in question has a bunch of little cars on a platform that spins, and the cars themselves have wheels in the center so you can spin yourselves at your discretion. It doesn’t take long before you’re loading into a blue car with flashing lights on the outside, the three of you positioning your hands on the large wheel in the middle.

Eddie stands off to the side, chewing the inside of his cheek as he watches you. His thoughts won’t let him catch a break, replaying your reaction to Max referring to him as your boyfriend, taking note of the fact that you didn’t necessarily seem upset about it. He thinks about your smile when he won you your prize, thinks about Jonathan and Steve giving him ‘the look’ and imploring him to ask you out.

He swears he feels his heart soaring as the ride starts, and he watches as you laugh under the blinking lights and the last bit of a glow from the setting sun. He wishes you could see yourself the way he sees you in this moment, hair blowing in the breeze, mouth open in a never ending laugh, happy and surrounded by friends who love you dearly. The feelings he harbors for you are clawing at his insides, fighting to make their way out. He doesn’t know if it’s possible to hold them down for much longer. Butterflies take flight in his stomach when you catch his eye, giving him a little wave as your car spins round and round.

The ride ends and you come bounding giddily out of the exit gate with the girls by your side, crying laughing at Nancy’s hair - which is now windswept and sticking every which way. Eddie stands waiting for you, smiling at you as you come up beside him.

“Have fun, ladies?” he asks, giving Nancy a raised eyebrow over her hairdo.

“Don’t even say it, Munson,” she laughs, leaning into Jonathan’s side, who’s appeared next to her.

“It was so much fun,” you beam at him, eyes bright as they meet his. “I’ll have to get you on a ride with me.”

“Anything you wanna do, sweets,” Eddie grins.

“Did you take good care of my bear while I was gone?” you ask him, reaching for the stuffed toy.

“Oh yeah. We had a very enlightening conversation,” he jokes, handing the bear back to you.

You giggle at this, watching as Eddie pretends to whisper something in the bear’s fuzzy little ear before handing him back to you. He shyly excuses himself to find a bathroom, leaving you standing with the rest of the group - save for Steve who got dragged somewhere by Dustin.

In all honesty, Eddie just needed a minute away to get his thoughts straight. His body feels like it’s vibrating he’s so head over heels for you, and he’s unsure what to do or how to do it. He doesn’t even find a bathroom, just paces around, weaving in and out of groups of excited kids and less excited parents. He doesn’t feel like he’s coming to any sort of conclusion, supposing he should’ve brought Jonathan along with him to bounce his thoughts off of. One thing he knows for sure, is that it’s becoming increasingly difficult to be strictly friendly towards you. Something’s gonna slip one way or another, and Eddie thinks he wants to have control over that situation.

He starts to circle back in the direction that he left you, palms sweating in the pockets of his jeans as he overthinks himself into a frenzy.

He stops dead in his tracks when he spots you huddled with Nancy and Robin on the side of one of the carnival booths, seemingly deep in conversation. Ducking away before you can spot him, he lingers just around the corner from where you are. He knows he shouldn’t, but his curiosity gets the best of him as he cranes to listen to what you’re saying.

“-and Max referred to him as my boyfriend, and he didn’t seem, like, mad about it? Or, I don’t know, repulsed by it or anything. I swear to god he blushed and I just don’t know how to take it,” your voice rambles.

“Y/N, he won you a fucking teddy bear. That’s about as obvious as he could be without putting a flashing neon sign above his head that says ‘I love Y/N L/N’,” he hears Robin retort, and his cheeks flush with slight embarrassment.

“Okay, listen, even if he likes me let’s not get carried away and say he loves me…” you try to defend.

“I’m with Rob on this one, hun,” Nancy butts in, “this is just the icing on the cake of all of the other things you two do that are so much more than just friendly.”

“Thank you, Nance,” Robin enunciates. “Seriously, babe, I just think it’s about time you admit your feelings to him. He deserves to know, and he’s totally going to reciprocate because he’s so clearly wildly in love with you, but even if he didn’t reciprocate this is Eddie we’re talking about and he’s just a walking teddy bear and he’d never be mean about it or-” Robin’s word vomit spills out, but Eddie can’t focus on her voice anymore.

It’s time you admit your feelings for him. You have feelings for him? Eddie feels his heart rate speed up, turning on his heel and walking away before any of you catch him eavesdropping. He ducks behind a cotton candy stand, his hands trembling with excitement. It’s like a switch is flipped in his brain, all of his reservations about confessing his feelings for you slipping away with ease. He knows what he has to do now, what he should’ve done ages ago. He can’t spend another day in a world where you aren’t his, and so he won’t.

Once he regains some composure, he walks back towards where he saw you and the girls talking. You see him coming this time, waving the arm of your teddy bear at him in greeting. He laughs, his heart feeling warm at the adorable gesture.

Jonathan, Steve, and now Dustin are standing there as well, and the girls’ previous conversation with you appears to be over. Dustin gives Eddie a look as he approaches, the older boy’s eyes trained on you the whole way over.

“What’s up with you? You look like a lovesick pup-” Dustin starts, but Eddie elbows him in the side before he can finish his sentence.

“Ow! Dude!!” Dustin remarks, but Eddie’s no longer listening, having fully turned his attention to you.

He’s about to make another smart comment, but Steve catches him before he can even get a word out, pulling him away and distracting him with the promise of an ice cream cone. Eddie can practically feel Jonathan, Nancy, and Robin’s eyes on him as he listens to you talk, excitedly pleading with him to go on another ride with you.

“I told you before, anything you wanna do I’m game for,” Eddie gives you a small smile before adding “….except that stupid roller coaster that goes in one big continuous loop. I am not risking my life today,” he points a finger at the ride in question, shaking his head as the riders are whipped upside down over and over.

You laugh at this, assuring him you’re not going to make him go on that one, instead leading him in the direction of a different ride. Eddie has hearts in his eyes as you lead him through the crowd of people, and he can’t help himself from eyeing the way your skirt bounces with every step, showing off your thighs. You turn back with a gleam in your eyes, like you’re so unbelievably happy to see him standing there, like you forgot who’s hand you were pulling towards your destination. Your ride of choice, admittedly, isn’t much more favorable to Eddie than the stupid loop-de-loop coaster. It’s designed so you stand against the wall in the big circular structure, and it spins so fast you’re basically pinned to the wall as it flies.

“What, big shot, are you nervous?” you tease him as you find a spot to stand in.

He waves you off with a shaky hand, “Me? Nervous? Pffft, yeah right,” he rolls his eyes. “Are you nervous? Need me to hold your hand?” he teases right back, shrieking when you slap him playfully on the arm.

“This ride’s always been my favorite, so, no. I think I’ll be fine,” you assure, standing up straighter as if to prove your confidence to him.

In actuality, you haven’t been on a ride like this since you were a little kid, and now as you waited for it to start the nerves were setting in a little. Before you can debate it any longer, the door shuts and rainbow lights flash inside the ride, illuminating the darkness. It starts moving, and you grip the handles beside you, watching as Eddie does the same. You squeal as you start to spin faster, listening as Eddie lets out a very nervous groan beside you. He squeezes his eyes shut, and honestly he thinks he must’ve blacked out for the worst of it because before he knows it, the spinning slows. He comes back to reality, looking down and processing that his hand is gripping yours, his knuckles white where they’re linked between your fingers. It’s not like you two haven’t held hands before, you certainly have, but this time has a different context, at least in Eddie’s mind. He has new knowledge now, and he blushes ferociously as his eyes stay locked on your linked hands.

You felt Eddie grip your hand in the middle of the ride, your brain laser focusing on it as the world spun around you. You catch his eyes finally now that the ride is stopped, and the two of you just look at each other for a moment. You ignore the people exiting around you, zeroed in on each other. The way Eddie’s looking at you feels different, and you don’t know why but it’s making your pulse hammer in your chest. It takes the ride attendant calling stragglers off to get you to drop Eddie’s hand, fixing your hair as you walk off the ride.

Neither of you say a word, and honestly you don’t think you could get words to form right now if you tried. Your head is spinning, and you can’t tell if you’re dizzy from the ride or just overly in love with your best friend. You wish he’d take your hand again, wish he’d never let it go, but before you can think about it for too long, Steve is approaching from where he stands by a metal fence surrounding your ride, holding your teddy bear out to you. Eddie jumps beside you, as if he forgot there were other people around him, and you wonder if he was just as lost in thought as you were. Robin and Nancy’s voices ring in your head. You need to confess your feelings. He deserves to know.

“Come on you guys, quit dragging your feet! We have to go on the ferris wheel while they do the fireworks!” Steve says, hurrying both of you along.

Oh, right. Fireworks. You loved the fireworks Hawkins put on every year, always dragging your friends to see them with you. You’re more than excited to get to share them with Eddie this time around. Your chest vibrates with a euphoric feeling, Eddie still walking beside you as you head towards the ferris wheel.

“Wanna sit with me?” you ask him teasingly, knowing he’d never tell you no.

“Hmmm, I’ll have to think about that one, princess,” he says, pretending to contemplate as you shove his side lightly.

He’s grateful for the conversation starter from you, glad you pulled him out of his nervous brain.

“I suppose the bear is sitting with us, too?” he smiles.

“Well, duh, we can’t make him sit alone. That would be rude,” you say, matter-of-factly.

“Oh, of course, of course. Forgive me for even implying such a thing,” Eddie offers the bear an apologetic bow, almost tripping over a stray electrical cord, which sends you into a fit of giggles.

Eddie loves the sound of your laugh, he strives to be the cause of it whenever he can. He’s going to tell you how he feels. On this ferris wheel, at the top as you watch the fireworks, he’s going to tell you. He stands in the line with you, palms sweating in the pockets of his jeans. The lights on the giant wheel blink intermittently, bright colors flashing and casting a glow over you as he watches you watch them. You both step up to the man taking tickets, and you step forward into the open bench seat that waits for you. You’re busy stuffing your bear into the seat beside you when Eddie passes the attendant a twenty dollar bill.

“You’ll be doing me a huge favor if you stop us at the top during the fireworks,” he murmurs to the guy, who gives a firm nod in response, pocketing the cash.

Maybe twenty was a bit steep for a small favor, but anything’s worth it when it comes to you. Eddie needs his perfect moment. You’re just about to turn and question whether he’s coming or not when he appears at your side, sliding into the seat beside you. It’s the bear on the left, you in the middle, and Eddie on the right. You’re giddy like a child when a tester firework gets set off, preparing everyone for the real show. Eddie swallows thickly, watching you as your hands grip the metal bar that secures you both in your seat.

Soon, you’re moving slowly backwards and up, stopping periodically to let more people on more empty cars. The sky is a rich navy blue, stars peeking out and blinking down at you as you look up. Your heart races for a reason you aren’t sure of, your mind still stuck on Eddie grabbing your hand earlier, amongst a million other things he’s done. Your car stops perfectly at the top, and you peer down to see that the other cars are all full.

“Oooh! We’re going to be right at the top for this!” you grip Eddie’s arm excitedly, and he thinks he’d be perfectly fine if the smile on your face right now was the last thing he ever saw.

He shares in your excitement, thanking the ride attendant in his mind for not just pocketing his money and not complying with his request.

“I think this might just be the best seat for fireworks, ever,” you say, turning to look at him. “Mr. Bear agrees,” you add, giggling when Eddie rolls his eyes.

“Mr. Bear has nothing to compare this to. Of course he agrees,” he says, feigning hurt when you slap him gently on the arm. Nevertheless, he’s ecstatic that you’re this happy about your viewpoint for tonight’s show.

Before you can continue the bit, a couple of fireworks light up the sky, booms rumbling in your chest.

Eddie takes a deep breath, grounding himself. This is it, he thinks. You have to do it now.

“Hey, uh, sweetheart?” he asks, wincing when his voice cracks ever so slightly.

“Yeah, Eds?” you reply, barely turning to face him as you watch the glittery explosions in the night sky.

“There’s something I need to tell you…” he says, his mouth going dry. You actually look at him now, brows furrowing.

“What’s up? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine, it’s not- I mean I hope it’s not a bad thing. What I’m about to tell you, I mean,” he’s nervously rambling now, you know he gets like this. You squeeze his hand, calming him.

“What is it, Eddie?” your voice is soft, and the way you’re looking at him is making him melt.

“I don’t want to just be friends with you anymore,” he starts, squeezing your hand back. “I like you, I like you so fucking much, sweetheart,” his eyes are searching yours, his voice surprisingly calm given his frantic look.

“Eddie, I-”

“I’ve been hiding this for so long, I didn’t wanna ruin what we have already, but… I overheard you talking with Robin and Nance before, and unless I misunderstood I have a feeling you feel the same way,” he’s smiling shyly, and you can tell even in the dim light that he’s blushing.

More fireworks boom and crackle, your heart pounds with a timbre that rivals them.

“I do, Eddie,” you reply, and you can’t even try to hold back the grin that spreads across your face. Neither can he, his pearly white teeth on display for you, and he’s so beautiful. “I didn’t say anything for the same damn reason,” you laugh a little, shaking your head. “I guess we’re both stupid for not seeing the signs, huh?”

“Yeah. Yeah we are,” he agrees, his voice soft as he lets himself melt into your eyes.

He thinks you’re the prettiest thing in the world. He’s glad he can tell you that now with no fear.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, voice breathy now.

Your heart is beating a mile a minute at his compliment, eyes looking away in a rare moment of shyness around the man you’ve been the closest to for months now. You don’t respond, can’t get the words out when he’s looking at you the way that he is. You let him lean in closer, let him rest his palm on your cheek, let your eyes flutter shut as his nose brushes yours.

Then, he’s kissing you. He’s finally fucking kissing you.

Eddie feels like his foot is about to start thumping like a dog that’s being scratched in the perfect spot. You feel like your heart might burst right here, right now on the ferris wheel seat. Your lips slot against his like you were made for each other, molded just right. Fireworks go off in your chest, rivaling the display in the sky. When you finally pull away, both of Eddie’s hands are cupping your face, and your hands are fisted in the collar of his shirt. His smile is radiant, the only thing you want to look at for the rest of your life.

Sparks crackle in the sky, quicker now, and you know the show must be ending soon. Your head goes to rest on Eddie’s shoulder as you both watch the bursts of color erupt. They seem to reach out to you, it feels like you could touch them if you stretched your hand out far enough. His arm wraps around your waist, pulling you as close to him as possible. You feel like there’s a million things you could say to each other, but it can wait. The fireworks show pounds and bangs and sizzles to a vibrant close but Eddie’s touch sends its own sparks over your skin, zaps of electricity flowing through you. You feel like you’re floating when the ride finally takes you back down to the ground and you step out of your bench seat, holding Eddie’s hand. He pulls you to him as soon as you’re away from the crowd of people shuffling through the fairgrounds, his hands resting on your lower back.

His lips find yours once more amidst a clash of teeth, both of your smiles too big to stay out of the way. “Eddie, Eddie, wait,” you say, still smiling as you pull away. “What does this make us, then?” you ask, eyes searching his as he holds you in place.

“Well, that depends. Do you want to be my girlfriend?” he asks, a boyish grin playing on his lips.

“Well now that depends. Do you want to be my boyfriend?” you counter, your top teeth tugging at your bottom lip.

“It would be an honor to hold that title, sweet girl.” Eddie says, bowing slightly, the dramatics in full swing as usual.

You erupt into giggles, mock-curtsying in response. “Then I would love to be your girlfriend.”

Eddie lifts you off the ground, spinning you before he kisses you again. He feels like it’s just you and him in that moment, his brain blurring out the laughter and conversations from passersby. It’s only when Robin’s gasp shakes you both from the moment that he comes back down to earth. He sets you down, you shyly leaning into his side as your friends look at you, amused and smug at the fact that they were right this entire time.

“Finally,” Nancy smirks.

“Took you long enough,” Jonathan adds, patting Eddie firmly on the back.

“Yeah, yeah, okay everyone. You were right, we get it, blah blah blah,” Eddie rambles. “Now if you’ll excuse us, my girlfriend and I are going to head out for the night I think,” he says, looking down at you with a lovesick grin.

“Ew,” Dustin groans. “I don’t even wanna know what you guys are planning on doing,” he grimaces, Eddie stepping forward to ruffle his hair.

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Henderson, I’m gonna take my lady to get some food,” Eddie says, turning around to face you. “That sound good, sweetheart?”

You nod eagerly, taking his hand as he steps back to you, your bear tucked under your other arm. You bid your friends goodbye for the night, laughing at the wolf whistles from Steve and Robin as you walk away hand-in-hand.

“Where are you taking me, handsome?” you ask, swinging your hands as you walk.

“The diner sound good? That’s our usual haunt but, now it’s a real date,” Eddie knocks his shoulder to yours, shyness poking through his boisterous demeanor.

“Sounds perfect,” you say, dropping his hand then. “I’ll race you to the van.”

“Oh, and you’re so gonna lose, baby,” he enunciates the last word, letting it sink into your skin. It catches you off guard just how he wanted it to, and you stand there stricken as you realize how much you like hearing him call you that.

“No way you’re winning now!” Eddie calls, having already started running.

“Hey! You’re a dirty cheater!” you gasp, trying and failing to catch up with him.

Everything feels right with the world as you sprint past children and food stands and bright lights. Your eyes stay focused on the man running ahead of you, like he’s your bright light guiding you. His giggles and taunts can be heard as he throws them over his shoulder at you, and his laughter’s never been more beautiful. It’s just you two against the world now. The way it always should have been. Navigating life with Eddie is your favorite ride, and you laugh wildly as you imagine what’s yet to come.

[can-of-w0rmz]

It’s always so interesting to me how so many people tend to look at protagonists’ reactions in 19th century gothic media and immediately slap a label on them as “over-dramatic” or “weak”, when in reality I don’t think we (as a society) know what we’re talking about. I think our society is collectively desensitised to concepts, and what I mean by that is that the concept of a story like Dracula or Frankenstein isn’t something that we’d ever bat an eye at because it’s been so ingrained into our very understanding or the concept of basic modern horror premises that we no longer appreciate it for what it is, and I’ve been guilty of it too. So a lot of people take the protagonists reactions to their circumstances, and paint it as melodrama or even worse, get high and mighty and claim that if THEY were in that scenario, they would NEVER do something so stupid, right?

But I need you to take a minute to actually think about the positions these characters are in. We’ve become so desensitised to these concepts, but if we were actually in those positions in real life we would probably not be able to handle them half as well as some of these characters. For example, Dracula. Sure, guy goes to stay in spooky castle, client turns out to be a vampire, pretty standard, easy to point at Jonathan Harker’s decisions and blame him. Oh Jonathan, don’t you know walking through an abandoned castle when your client tells you not to is bound to get you hurt? Don’t you know going to a remote area with villagers crossing themselves every five seconds is dangerous?

But actually think about this. You’re a solicitor, you have a fiancée back home and you need this job. You meet your client, he’s a little creepy, you feel unsafe, but you need this job. What are you going to do, turn back and tell your employer you couldn’t do it because the vibes were off? Obviously not. You suck it up. Then slowly, your world starts collapsing around you and slowly getting smaller as you find yourself trapped inside this man’s house and you slowly come to the realisation that you are being held captive in the house of a creepy old man who has access to all the rooms in the house, including your own, and can enter it at any time, in a secluded area far away from everyone, and with no hope of reaching out for help. He has the power to do anything to you, and you’re completely helpless, and does. You are going to die there and none of your loved ones will ever know what happened to you. Your abuser might even fabricate your identity or conduct a lie to ruin all memory of you forever. Then things get worse, and you realise that your abuser and captor isn’t even human. Throw in the infanticide and assault scenes, and that is a horrifying scenario, and I don’t think some people fully recognise that when they read it.

The very same with Frankenstein, oh haha, Victor gets ill often, look at him fainting every five minutes, what a whiny bitchboy, right? But Jesus Christ, again, think about this scenario that he’s in properly. My guy digs up corpses, brings them to his dorm room and stitches them together, only for him to bring said corpses to life and watch his inanimate amalgamation of dead bodies come to life in your house. Now again, imagine cutting up corpses and sewing them together. If you can’t manage that, imagine a friend of yours came to you and told you that they’d been stealing corpses, cutting them up, and sewing them together, and they now have an 8ft tall giant amalgamation or corpses in their room. Now imagine going to their house and seeing that amalgamation of corpses. Good luck not passing out and vomiting all over their bedroom floor, and extra good luck not needing extreme psychiatric care afterwards. Again, corpses. I’m willing to bet half the people here have never even seen a corpse, and this isn’t even freshly-dead-grandma-in-the-coffin, these are decomposing and rotting corpses of real human beings. Observed. And some corpses cut up. And pieced together. Into a giant corpse. Genitalia included. Intestines included. Everything else included. And then that corpse then starts killing everyone you’ve ever loved and you have the added guilt that it IS it’s own person and you’ve abandoned it.

Which of course, could lead me into a whole separate rant, on how I believe that Victor’s flaw doesn’t lie in his horror at his own actions, and his fainting and illness and whatnot, but rather at his deliberate avoidance of the consequences of those actions – (horrifying as they may have been to come to terms with, his avoidance ultimately led to the mental distress and death of tons of completely innocent people, and his avoidance, however difficult, was still very much wrong and Victor is still very much to blame for it) – as well as the mania and obsessive justification he kept using to reach that goal. Although again, it could be argued there was avoidance in that as well – Victor pasting clinical lenses over all his actions, ignoring his family and friends, which ultimately all caught up with him. It’s my reading that Victor isn’t to blame whatsoever because he’s “over dramatic” or that “whiny”, he has every right to be severely traumatised by his experiences, however much his own fault they may be, he is to blame because at every turn where he could have faced his actions and confided in a friend or likewise, he did not, and it led to the deaths of everyone he loved. Except for Ernest, who likely then had to live with the death of his entire family.

But that’s a side rant – my primary point is, I genuinely do not remotely believe that authors in the past were really any more “emotional” or “melodramatic” than we are today. The only difference is that because the premise of these plots have been so deeply engrained into our society, we do not understand how horrifyingly traumatising these situations are by nature and dismiss them out of hand. Dracula did not exist yet when Dracula was being written. Frankenstein did not exist yet when Frankenstein was being written. Don’t come looking to read old gothic literature expecting a camp B-list horror film, and then call the characters over-dramatic when they react like average actual human beings to absolutely horrific scenarios.

And what’s more with regard to general more open affection between friends in older books, no it isn’t unrealistic, we’re all just cynical assholes now. (There’s a limit, obviously. Some characters are just raging homosexuals and there’s no other explanation. “His form so divinely wrought and beaming with beauty” my ass alright now just admit you had gay sex and be done with it)

[stranger-stevieee]

Chapter 1: The Vanishing of Will Byers

Summary: As Will Byers' older sister, you have a responsibility to protect him. When you fail, you have to go through the process of getting him back safely. Between fighting inter-dimensional monsters, a girl with superpowers, and getting your brother back, you might just end up falling in love along the way.

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Byers!reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings (entire series): cursing, angst, gore and violence (in the later seasons), fem!reader, enemies to lover (sorta), any other warnings from the show

—

November 7, 1983

You woke up to the irritating sound of your alarm going off. Reaching over to the nightstand, you turn it off. Dreading the idea of having to go to school today. 

After getting ready for the day, you head down the hall to the kitchen where you see Jonathan making breakfast and your Mom frantically searching around the house for her keys.

“Good morning,” you say, sitting down at the table

Looking back at you over his shoulder with a small smile on his face, he says, “Morning” 

Mom not replying until her keys are secured in her hand, “Got ‘em! Good morning sweetheart”

Walking over to Jonathan she starts saying her goodbyes before walking over to you.

“Okay, guys, I will see you tonight…where’s Will?”

“Oh, I didn’t get him up yet,” Jonathan explains

Hearing this, you jump up from your seat, a small smile covering your face as you say,  “I’ll wake him, Mom.”

“Thank you, sweetie”

Walking towards Will’s room you can faintly hear mom scolding Jonathan, “You have to make sure he’s up!” “Mom, I’m making breakfast.”

Rolling your eyes playfully you call out, “Will! C’mon, you have to get up for school! You’re gonna be late…” 

Your sentence was cut off by the sight of his messy sheets and empty bed. With a bit of panic, you ran out of the room and back into the kitchen.

“Hey, Mom? Will’s not here…”

“Did he come home last night?” She asks with a concerned expression while you and Jonathan reply with “I don’t know”

Her expression was somewhere between shocked and irritated, “You didn’t check?”

After Jonathan explained that he had worked an extra shift last night, causing him to come home late, Joyce told him that it was a very irresponsible thing to do, and she directed her attention towards you.

“And you?” 

“N-no I was out late last night too. I was working on a project,” you responded

Walking towards the phone she looks back at the both of you and says, “I can’t believe you guys!”

“It’s due today!”

She starts dialing the Wheeler house because that's where Will was last night and figured he might’ve slept over, but when she gets off the phone you can tell something is very wrong.

Your baby brother was missing.

“Okay…uh, I’m gonna go to the police station and see if they could help us in any way. You two stay here and start looking.”

—

You and Jonathan had searched the whole house, plus the shed until you eventually decide to go into the woods.

As you are about to head out, you get a knock at the door.

Opening it, you see Mike Wheeler, Lucas Sinclair, and Dustin Henderson standing there. Will’s best friends.

These boys have been there for him, basically, forever, and over time they have become like family to you. You gained 3 more brothers.

“Hey, boys… what’s up”

You already know what’s up. Every day the 3 of them show up to pick up Will and ride to school together. Only today will be different.

“Hi, Y/N!” Dustin speaks with the cutest lisp, “Where’s Will? He’s usually here waiting for us.”

You don’t have it in you to tell them the truth. That Will could possibly be missing. So instead you go with, “Oh…yeah we actually didn’t see him this morning. He probably just left early for school”

Mike, always the skeptic, asks “Early? He never leaves early. Late? Maybe, but never early”

Feeling panic rising, you immediately reply, “Well… I don’t know, Mike, just get to school.”

“Whatever,” he says walking away, the other two following behind him.

Taking a deep breath in and out to calm yourself down, you call out to Jonathan telling him your ready to head out.

—

“Will!” 

“Will, where are you bud?”

You’ve been out here for at least an hour before Joyce came back from the police station. 

“Kids!” She yells out frantically, “Did you find him?”

“No, Mom he’s not anywhere”

As she walks deeper into the woods she asks “Did you check ‘Castle Byers’?”

Jonathan replied, “Yes, that’s the first place we looked”

Completely disregarding his statement, she went towards ‘Castle Byers’ determined to find her son. 

Of course, as you both explained, once she pulled back the curtain that acted as a door, she found it to be empty.

With a heavy sigh, you immediately go back to calling for Will. Jonathan and Joyce joining you.

“Will?”

“Will! Where are you?”

This was going to be the longest day ever.

—

“Bitch!” Mom says slamming the phone down. You and Jonathan flinching in response

“Mom. You have to stay calm”

She was calling Lonnie, your dad but you refused to call him that, trying to ask him if he’s seen Will.

While Joyce goes back to the phone, picking it up to dial again, Jonathan goes back to making a missing poster for Will.

He’s making the actual poster part of it while you’re picking out the perfect picture to put on it.

During this process, there was so much going through your mind.

What if we never find him?

What if Will is hurt?

Or worse, what if he’s dead?

This is all my fault. How could I have let this happen? I’m supposed to protect him. I failed.

Your mind won’t stop running, it’s working overtime to find all the answers to all these questions.

You can’t take it anymore until you finally drop the pictures and turn to Jonathan.

“Johnny, what if he’s not ok?”

He stops his writing and looks at you saying, “Hey, we can’t think like that. He’s fine, we just gotta find him. Okay?”

You can tell he’s barely keeping it together himself but is trying so hard.

Looking up out of the front window you hear a noise. A car door. 

“Mom,” you say quietly, Jonathan quickly following with, “Cops,”

—

The chief of police and 2 other officers have started wandering around the house. Looking for anything they can that would prove as evidence.

When they arrived, Hopper had Will’s bike in his hand. Saying he found it on the side of the road, just lying there.

As they walked around you knew they weren’t going to find much. 

A mess? Maybe. But no evidence.

Because if there was anything you guys would’ve found it already.

Hopper came back inside the house saying that he called for a search party that would start soon and go well into the night. 

You volunteered to go but Joyce said she wanted all of you to stay home and get some rest.

And so you do. The three of you stay home, and while still trying to figure out the poster situation you get a call on the phone. 

Joyce rushes to answer, and while you can’t hear anything being said on the other line, you can hear her screaming frantically. 

“Will?” 

Your immediate reaction is to run over to her and try to figure out if it’s Will on the phone.

With Jonathan following closely, you both start questioning her, asking questions like “It’s Will?” and “Mom, is it Will?”

After getting nothing but frantic yelling from her, you decided to grab the phone and question the person yourself. 

But before you can, the phone suddenly lets out a bolt of electricity and Joyce jolts back dropping it.

Jonathan immediately rushes to her side asking, “Mom, was it him?”

You stand in shock looking at the both of them wondering what the hell just happened. 

“What did they say?” you ask 

She replied, saying “He just breathed. He just breathed.”

Jonathan immediately pulls her into a hug whispering “It’s ok, Mom. It’s ok,”

—

Eventually, Mom managed to fall asleep for a bit while Jonathan cleaned up the mess in the living room while you worked in the kitchen.

“We’ll find him right?” you ask Jonathan while organizing all the pictures scattered across the table

“We will. And when we do everything will be okay again.”

—

A/n: Helloooo!!! I’m so excited to be sharing this with you! I absolutely love series rewrites so I decided to make it myself to incorporate the stuff I like into one big fic. So basically this chapter has no Steve in it (😔 ik) but it just is the backstory of everything. Yk Will going missing, how the reader responds to it, all that stuff. Also, I promise the chapters will get longer. Anyways, I really hope you all enjoy and thank you for choosing to read my work! (any criticism is welcome but please be kind)

[ax-y10]

"dad!"

in which; wilbur and ted as dads

about; it is feminine anatomy but everything else is gender neutral, sorta, wilbur is a girl dad, ted is a boy dad, giving birth/pregnancy, crying, mentions of fighting, so so so fluffy, they're so sweet

word count; 696

taglist; @phxntomsdusk, @pheliiaa, @average-vibe

wilbur;

- an absolute sweetheart in the hospital.

- making sure that you’re comfortable and safe with what’s happening.

- he would hold your hand when you’re pushing and when you’re not doing anything, letting you squeeze as hard as you need.

- advocates for you!!

“we can’t give you an epidural. you don’t fit the criteria”

“but i’d like to have it-”

“they need the epidural! give it to them!”

- he definitely had to step out at a point to gather his thoughts and calm himself down because you were in pain! you were pushing a new human out of you! and it was hurting you!

- as much as he wanted to be in there with you during then, he couldn’t handle seeing you in pain.

- but as soon as the baby has had snuggles with you, he’s immediately scooping the baby up and swaddling it against his chest, keeping it warm.

- he spent weeks hiding away in the nursery with a rolled up towel and teaching himself how to hold a baby.

- you’d walked in one day and he was holding it so wrong so you had to help him

“as cute as this is, you are basically suspending the baby in the air. you can’t have their legs dangling”

“oh so like this?”

“wil, that’s better but you need to- okay let me show you”

“ohhh, that’s how you hold them. got it!”

- he’s such a girl dad!

- when your daughter gets a little older, he always says to you late at night that the day is getting closer and closer to where he needs to fight guys who try to hurt her.

- he supports her in everything she chooses to do.

- if she wants to move across the world? “okay sure! go for it! but please call me. i can’t deal with being away from my baby”

- if she likes girls and not boys? “i’ll need to meet the lucky girl!”

- definitely cries when she moves out

“we’re gonna miss you, pumpkin!”

“i’ll miss you too dad! i love you so much!”

“i love you too, sunshine! visit us all the time. we will be thinking of you”

- definitely adores the interactions between his daughter and you. from you doing her hair for the first day of school to going dress shopping for her formal/prom. loves all of it!

ted;

- ted is a boy dad. no doubt about that.

- when he found out you were having a boy, he immediately pulled you into a warm kiss.

“i can’t believe we’re having a boy!”

“ted, you sorta made him-”

“damn right i did!”

-ted would definitely want to name it after schlatt or eddie, his reasoning being "they're my bestfriends and i include them in everything i do!"

-and then you shoot back, "ted. i told you months ago. this is our thing to cherish and take care of, not jonathan's or eddie's."

-when it's just you, ted and the baby in bed at night, he's always snapping candid photos of you and the baby. one of you curled around the baby, another of you smiling fondly at the sleeping baby.

-he will watch when you're breastfeeding your son. not in a creepy way but more of a "that's my life partner and that's my son and they look so beautiful together."

-admires you and his son when he's on your hip, when you're walking down the street and pushing the pram, when you're changing his diapers. he loves everything about the domesticity of it all.

-cries when the baby cries but then immediately recollecting himself and comforting him as well as he can.

-when his son moves away for college or moves out, tears are shed and ted sends him off with a warm, fatherly hug, and a new set of whatever cheesy dad gifts he can find. (your son definitely comes back a week later to visit because he felt bad for his parents)

-he makes sure to meet his girlfriend, and his wife, and always has a good impression on all of his son's partner's families.

-goes to every event that his son is at. he can't help being away from his boy.

[once-upon-an-imagine]

Steddie being jealous of your friendship and the time you spend with Jonathan, please?

omg yes! I love this 😂

“Are you two dinguses just going to stand here moping all night?” Robin asked, walking over to Eddie and Steve. 

“We’re not moping” Steve complained. 

“Yeah, we’re just... having a drink” Eddie insisted. 

“And throwing daggers at Jonathan while you’re at it” Robin smirked. 

“We’re not throwing daggers at Jonathan-” Steve started.

“Yes” Eddie said at the same time and Steve widened his eyes at his boyfriend. “What? He just comes in here and basically steals her away!”

“He didn’t steal her away” Steve tried to convince him. 

“Seriously? As soon as he walked in she went over to say hello and hasn’t come back” Eddie said, rolling his eyes. 

“Well, he’s her best friend and they haven’t seen each other in like four months-” Robin reminded them.

“He’s been back for over a week, they’ve had time to catch up” Steve blurted out. 

“Yeah, and for your information, Buckley, we’re her best friends!” Eddie complained.

“Oh my God, you two sound like children” she laughed. “Heads up” she said, before walking away. 

You walked over to your boyfriends with a big smile on your face. “Hi!”

“Hey” Steve smiled weakly at you and throwing his arms around your shoulders. 

“Nice of you to join us, princess” Eddie said. 

“Are you two pouting because I went to say hi to Jonathan?”

“No, we’re not pouting because you basically abandoned us to be with him as soon as he appeared” Eddie said, dramatically. 

“Which was like two hours ago!” Steve added. 

“It was twenty minutes ago” you rolled your eyes. “Would you two please stop looking at Jonathan as if you’re gonna kill him with your eyes?” you told them.

“We’re not doing that” the two of them replied at the same time, still not looking at you. Their eyes still fixated on the older Byers. 

“Mhm” you rolled your eyes. You placed one of your hands on Steve’s cheek and the other one on Eddie’s making both of them look at you. “Hello” you said, smiling at your boyfriends and the two of them turned to look at each other and back at you sighing. “I’m sorry I left to talk to Jonathan-”

“As soon as he walked in” Eddie muttered, pouting.

“But” you said, scowling at him. “He was helping me with something” you smiled. 

“What? What do you mean? Is something wrong?” Steve asked, worriedly. 

“No” you giggled. “Wait here” you said, walking over to the living room again and grabbing something from the table. You walked back to Steve and Eddie with a scrapbook in your hands. “It was supposed to be a surprise but since you two obviously can’t stop frowning” you rolled your eyes. “Here” you said, giving the scrapbook to them. 

“What’s this?” Steve said, grabbing it and browsing through it. 

“Before Jonathan left he was teaching me about photography” you explained as Steve and Eddie looked at the pictures. Some of them had only Eddie. Some of them only Steve. Some of them had the two of them, you with Steve or you with Eddie and a couple had the three of you. “I asked Max to help me get some of the three of us. She’s really good” you told them. “Jonathan helped me pick the best ones” you smiled.  “Do you like it?” 

“Like it? Princess, this is amazing!” Eddie said with a bright smile, taking it from Steve. “How come there aren’t any pictures of just you?”

“Because you know I don’t like taking pictures unless is with either of you” you told them. 

“Sunshine, you did this for us?” Steve asked smiling at you.

“Of course I did” you said. “Because I love you two idiots!” 

“Me too” Eddie said, giving you a small kiss.

“Me three” Steve said, doing the same. “But we’re definitely putting more pictures of you in here” he said, hugging you towards him and kissing your head as Eddie kept browsing through the pages. 

[ladyloveandjustice]

I’m wasn’t sure I wanted to talk about it since I’m not incredibly interested in debating it, but it’s bothering me and it’s my blog so

I saw a lot of posts in the dracula daily tag that was like ‘all of that feminist analysis that said Lucy was supposed to be bad as a vampire because she turned sexual is WRONG, the horror is that she’s turned into a different person’ and even calling that feminist critique shallow or less nuanced or connecting it to second wave feminsm (and for some reason citing Kate Beaton who is 1. a cartoonist giving quick takes on several books in a funny way and 2. not from the second wave lmao please learn your history guys)

and look, I get wanting to look at Dracula through different lenses, especially since you like it now, but it’s not some be a wacky coincidence that Lucy’s human personality is ‘innocent ingenue who is the apple of every man’s eye yet would never act so seductively’ and her ‘monstrous vampire’ personality is seductive and sexual and it would be dangerous to kiss her, you’ll die. It would be incredibly unlikely in the Victorian era (or even today!) that it would ever be written the other way around, the good woman the flirtatious one and the bad personality innocent of sexuality. Whether Stoker was doing it consciously or subconsciously, societal feelings about women and sexuality are all over that.

 It’s also not a wacky coincidence that the three vampire ladies menacing Jonathan are very sexual and seductive and scary and up for a four way,or that Dracula's own monstrousness is sexually coded, and part of it is his implied three lovers he doesn’t love but probably fucks (even if I love them and prefer to interpret them as weird roommates, I can acknowledge that likely wasn’t the intended interpretation).

Sure, Lucy can think about how cool it would be to marry three guys, but she’s willing to follow society’s rules. It’s when she’s a monster that she isn’t. And there’s a lot of of analysis to be had in how the scary sexually-coded predation of Dracula as a man and a ‘foreigner’ is handled vs the female vampires of the story, because it is presented very differently!

Just as there’s pretty disturbing racism and antisemitism all over Dracula, there’s gender and sex stuff too. It is, in fact, all over vampires in general, and analyzing how they’re wrapped up in anxiety about sexuality, especially anxieties about what were considered ‘fringe sexualities’ (whether internalized or externalized) and how that was wrestled with and played with through the years, is pretty fascinating! And you’re doing yourself as disservice if you ignore it. It’s often very interesting, it’s not all bad, we love our monsters, it’s part of a proud tradition, but there was a society that created it that you shouldn’t dismiss. These are very basic takes, but apparently they’re still important to talk about it, since you guys are now actively dismissing them as soon as you start liking the characters.

Just because you want to look at things from a character motivation perspective doesn’t mean the social perspective and social mores aren’t at play. It can simultaneously be true that “the horror is the Lucy is a different person” and “the horror is Lucy’s sexual forwardness”. It can be true that “there’s more to Lucy than trepidation about sexuality’ and ‘that’s almost certainly meant to be a part of her tragedy for sure’. Multiple things can coexist. If you want nuance to exist you can’t just say interpretations that conflict with you having an entirely fun time are somehow more shallow. We can love the monsters, and love the characters, but realize the way we love them now doesn’t always reflect how it would have come across to many of those who first read about it, or even most people who read it today.

[atmilliways]

Wrong On The Money (4-5)

parts 4 & 5 of ?? | 863 words | Teen+

Blackmail fic on Ao3 | on tumblr

Summary:

Eddie hasn’t slept more than a couple hours at a time for days, simply because he doesn’t have time. He’s picked up a part time job at Thatcher Tire after school and weekends, and when he isn’t there or dozing through his classes at good ol’ Hawkins High he’s making drops all over town.  It’s just enough to make up for his uncle not being able to work right now, but barely.

4.

Eddie hasn’t slept more than a couple hours at a time for days, simply because he doesn’t have time. He’s picked up a part time job at Thatcher Tire after school and weekends, and when he isn’t there or dozing through his classes at good ol’ Hawkins High he’s making drops all over town. 

It’s just enough to make up for his uncle not being able to work right now, but barely. 

And dear god, does he need a fucking break. It’s stupid, and irresponsible, and he absolutely lied to Wayne about where he was headed tonight, but he needs to let off some steam. 

He’s wound up tight as a spring as he pulls up by the club, and sees Steve fucking Harrington going inside. It’s definitely him, too; Eddie peers in the windows of a nearby burgundy BMW he recognizes from around Hawkins. There's a gym bag in the back seat with HARRINGTON written on it, clear as day. 

The spring winches even tighter, until something goes twang. 

Because he can’t go in now. How could he possibly go in now, and share stagnant air with King Steve? Admittedly not the worst of the bullies on campus before graduating last year, but everyone had heard about what he’d called Jonathan Byers the winter semester of ‘83. So a hypocrite, at the very least—a freak in wolf’s clothing. 

(And god, the clothing. The way the sleeves of his tight t-shirt cling to his biceps. His ass in dark jeans. His signature hair starting to get a little long in the back, as though he’s been foregoing haircuts lately, still big and swoopy like a cartoon character but in a more tousled way than he’d worn it in school—)

All of it makes Eddie’s blood pop and fizz in his veins, on top of everything else right now. . . . Then Eddie has an idea. Eddie has a wonderful, awful idea.

5.

Over the course of several hours of waiting, Eddie comes to a conclusion that he doesn’t like, but . . . desperate times. It’s only been a few months and he’s already fraying at the edges. What happens when Wayne gets worse? When Wayne. . . ?

No. Nope, he’s not going to think about it, because if he thinks about it right now then he’s going to have a breakdown on the hood of Harrington’s fucking car. Instead, he works his way through an entire pack of cigarettes while talking himself in and out of the gradually forming plan by turns. 

And he happens to be talked into it when Harrington comes out of the club, sweaty and pretty and careless as you please, strolling up to the car like it’s no big deal. 

Eddie breathes out smoke and stops grinding his teeth long enough to say, “Hey, man. What’s a nice boy like you doing in a place like this, huh?”

“I was just leaving, actually,” Harrington says, eyeing him as though trying to decide what he wants without actually having to ask. Wary, but not terribly concerned. 

Which is just such a fucking insult. (But why wouldn’t it be? Even as hot as he is, even if he swings the right way, it’s not like Eddie had a shot with someone like this. It’s not like he’s about to torpedo anything.) Eddie has dirt on him now—even if it’s all terrible societal crap and pressure and bullshit, there’s no point in not calling a spade a spade. But the thing is. . . .

The thing is, everyone knows the Harringtons are loaded. They can afford to save a man’s life. If Eddie squints at it just right, what he’s about to do is basically tricking King Steve into good karma. 

“Yeah, I should probably head out too,” Eddie says with forced casualness. “Say, does your girlfriend know you’re out here?”

“My what?”

Eddie’s lips tighten briefly around his cigarette. “You know, Robin? Bit of a motor mouth, about yea high—” he gestures with a flourish “—and usually attached to you at the hip outside of school hours?”

It takes longer than he expected for the reality of the blackmail to click, and even then, Harrington’s reaction is underwhelming. All Eddie gets is a slight rise of the eyebrows and a heavy sigh, almost no apparent anxiety. 

Fucking arrogant. Does this guy really think he’s that untouchable?

“Is there something you want?” Harrington asks flatly. 

And fine, there’s no point in not being direct. They’re not friends, and King Steve has always been an asshole who needs taking down a peg. 

“Yep.” Eddie ashes his cigarette just shy of hitting the car’s pristine paint job, then stands to go. “Woods behind the field, there’s a picnic table back there. You know it?”

Harrington gives a curt nod. 

“Great. Be there tomorrow after school.”

“I have work.”

“So? Call out sick, pretty boy, or Robin hears all about this little nighttime excursion.”

He doesn’t wait for anything else, turning away before his face has a chance to break into a grimace where Harrington can see. This is something he’s going to absolutely loathe himself for, but if it works? If it helps Wayne get better? Eddie can fucking live with that.

[berniesrevolution]

Editor’s Note: This article, republished from the Daily Yonder, is part of a series of photo essays created for the American Creed ​“Citizen Power” multi-platform documentary initiative exploring American idealism and community leadership from a range of young adult perspectives.

Jonathan Blair lives, works, and studies at Alice Lloyd College, in Eastern Kentucky. He coordinates a work-study crew of about 60 people, mostly first-generation college students from rural Appalachia. Blair and two of his crew members — Jacob Frazier and Carlos Villanueva — document their connection to blue-collar work in and around the Appalachian coal industry, and they reflect on their hopes for the region.

Explore more of Jonathan Blair’s story here.

My grandfathers on both sides were coal miners. My father is a mechanic for one of the railroads that transport coal. Basically, ever since our family has been in these hills, the coal business has put food on our table, and that’s the case for most families in our region. Even if it’s not why they came here, it kind of became what they did, because that was what paid, and you’re going to do whatever it takes.

Survival is a big aspect of Appalachian culture. For a long time, coal meant survival, but there was never a sense of stability because the coal business is like a light switch: It’s either ​“on” or ​“off.” And when that switch was off, a lot of people, like my grandpa, would find manufacturing jobs elsewhere, in Ohio and other places. And whenever the coal business picked back up, they would come back, because this is home. Today, you look around and you can see the mountaintops have been removed to extract the coal from them, and much of the coal that was deep in the ground is gone. The coal business is a phantom, a shadow of what it used to be. We can’t rely on it coming back to what it once was.

(My stepdad Charles Hampton was in the Marines, but he got injured. He used to work for a drilling company but now he’s retired. He also used to be a truck driver but he got injured there too.)

For Appalachians, other than faith in God and the love of our families, coal has been what we have always leaned on. Now we are having to take a step back and look away in order to move on to the future. Like diamonds, coal takes millions of years to form, so there won’t be much forming in our lifetimes. In fact, it could be exhausted by the end of our lifetimes.

I know very few people my age who go into the industry. The generations before us have warned that no matter how good the money is right now, no matter how sweet of a deal they’ll cut you to get you to work, it’s not gonna last. It can’t last. Right now, the price of coal is up but we’ve seen what happens when the price goes down and industry packs up and leaves.

There is no plan B in places like this. A major concern for my generation is finding that plan B right here in the only place we’ve ever known, because these mountains are home. And it truly is beautiful.

(My grandfather and his co-worker, underground about two miles.)

(The culture in Appalachia is rich in faith. Ever since I can remember, I was in the House of God listening to my grandfather preach. I asked him to turn to any passage of scripture, and he turned to Luke 15:11 (the story of the Prodigal son).)

(Coal Miners go to work never knowing what the day will hold. One day my grandfather sacrificed his arm while cleaning a belt head. “I would go back in a heartbeat,” he said. Even though the work took something from him, his heart still has a passion for the industry.)

The Appalachian culture has deep roots because, much like the rest of America, this is a land of immigrants who made this their home. People of many backgrounds, colors, and creeds were brought together here to build the railroads and pull the coal out of the ground. Over time, bonds formed through our shared labor and sacrifice.

There’s a saying around these parts that goes, ​“All blood isn’t family and all family isn’t blood.” Coal workers often left their loved ones behind for the opportunities in this region, and although those opportunities have dwindled, many of them formed new families and remain committed to these mountains. That’s how we ended up with this rich culture.

(Although the family has been spread across the region because of work and other aspects of life, when we are able to gather the sense of joy never seems to falter. As I have grown older, I have witnessed these bonds grow, even as the distance between us becomes greater. It becomes more bittersweet each time.)

While Appalachians have always wanted to maintain a life and community here, the same can’t be said for the industry we’ve welcomed into this region. You can drive through these mountains and find ghost towns like after the gold rush, abandoned places that were once home to so many people.

A sense of distrust exists between the Appalachian people and outsiders — whether that’s big business or the government. This distrust is deeply rooted and generational because New England businessmen came into the area and ripped a great deal of the coal out of our mountains. When the prices were low enough for them not to bother anymore, they went back home. When it was time for war, the federal government would come into our region and recruit young men, leaving behind suspicion and fear of exploitation among locals. It’s difficult to erase those scars of generational distrust. Many Appalachians fear that solutions presented by new industries or the government will only repeat the exploitation of the past. When you can see the end of the coal industry, it’s frightening. But there are solutions. Fear has to be countered with knowledge and power.

(Continue Reading)

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

valentines day

summary: valentine’s day. the day of chocolate hearts, flowers, budding romance, and heartbreak.

WC: 1.7K

warnings: this is clean

A/N: ALL PARTS UNDER THE TAG -The Byers Harrington Story-

this is version2 of what i original started with but my break caused me to change it. so maybe in the future my version1 of certain stories might be posted, we’ll see obviously.

THANK YOU FOR 300 FOLLOWERS💗💗💗

series masterlist

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February 14, 1985

The house was quiet, the only noise heard through the structure was the mild volume of the TV. Movies and shows playing their romantic scenes, couples going on dates, a guy running through the rain to get the girl before it’s too late or many other romance gestures Hollywood could think of.

No one was in the house, well except for two people, those two people lounging on the couch just staring at the small screen and it was only two-thirty in the afternoon. Jonathan went out earlier since he planned a who day with Nancy, and said something about going to the next town over for dinner or something. Joyce had to work, as usual, she was basically the only employee at Melvard’s, so you wouldn’t see her until later that day. So it was only you and Will.

Steve called earlier and said he’s being held hostage, metaphorically, but also literally. His parents were in town for a few days and he mentioned something about lunch and his father’s work, so you know he wishes to stab himself to leave that situation. So you wouldn’t see your adoring boyfriend until tonight, dinner plans he step up, not Enzo’s he added.

You asked Will what his plans were when you saw he made himself comfy on the worn brown couch, just lounging in his pj's.

“Mike said he’s hanging with El today, followed by Lucas remembering to make plans with Max, so that’s two couples I don’t want to third wheel today.”

“What about Dustin? He doesn’t have a girlfriend.”

His attention moved from the screen to a loose thread he started picking at, “said he was working on a science project or something, and also that he was going with his mom for bingo at her friends.”

You twisted your torso to lean into the cushions, left leg angled on the seat while you face Will, head tilted at his pouting face. You poked a finger into his right thigh for his attention.

“Why don’t we do something? Like we used to do.” It used to be homemade valentine’s day cards with baking brownies or cookies and the final piece, going on a walk down the block and venting to each other.

“Is it only ‘cause Steve can’t come until tonight?” His comment was low, but you heard the sadness in the whispers.

You scooted closer to his, your leg to his thigh, your hands grabbing at his to stop any fidgeting, “Will, you know I love hanging out with you. Just ‘cause I have a boyfriend now doesn’t mean that changes.” With one hand you placed it upon his left cheek and turned his head to completely face you, “you’re my number one guy, always will be. Partners come and go, but my family will come first no matter what.”

You saw his eyes dip away, “hey,” you cooed softly to him, “Will, is something wrong?”

He didn’t even say anything and you knew there was something eating at him, but he was holding back. The only sign was the wetness growing along his lash line, and the tiny bite to his bottom lip.

“Hey, hey, hey.” You moved off the sofa to crouch at his knees, “Will, please, please, tell me if there’s something I can do to help. Or tell me what’s wrong, please, I don’t like seeing you like this.” Your own eyes tearing up and your throat straining.

The tears started to slip from his eyes and down his cheeks, matching stains on both your faces. He still didn’t say anything, only sniffling to stop the snot from dripping. Your fingers drummed along his knees, the physical sign of your nerves.

“Will…”

“I…I like someone…” his voice cracked on the last word, like the thought of them broke his heart.

You released a small sigh, relieved it wasn’t about something horrible, just a middle school crush. Your actions showed your thoughts as you dropped your forehead to rest on your knuckles that still sat on Will’s knees.

“Will…you scared me-” Your light chuckles stopped when you felt his body shaking and looked up to see his face pinched in hurt.

“Will… everything… it’s only a middle school crush.” You tried to comfort him. “You- you don’t… you don’t get it (Y/n).” His stuttered cries cracked your heart.

“Then tell me, explain to me. I was a kid in middle school not too long ago with a crush, I know the pain. I even had elementary crushes, and those hurt me.” A quick flash of middle school you staring longingly at middle school Steve, a kiss shared between you and another girl in your room.

You moved from the floor back to the couch, closer to Will and pulling him in by the shoulders, his head resting on your collarbone. One hand going to tangle in his dark brown strands while the other rubs up and down along his spine to soothe his hiccuped crying.

“Okay, okay. You don’t need to tell me anything right now, but know that you can tell me when you’re ready. I understand the pain of crushes, some of them you can’t have.” His hands clutched at your shirt.

No words were spoken for the next five minutes. Only the sounds of the TV as white noise, Will’s sniffling, quieting, and trailing off as the seconds ticked by. Your hand moved in slow and soothing circles over his shoulder blades while your other hand held the back of his head.

“Do you want some water?” Those were the first words out of your mouth.

Will nodded in acceptance of the offer. You both detangled from each other, limbs sore and bones cracking at the sudden movement. Your footsteps thudded against the hardwood that led into the cool tile of the kitchen. You stood on the tips of your toes and reached for a clean mug before placing it under the faucet. Just as the cup was full and you turned around, the landline blasted its high pitch ringing. A bit of water splashed to the floor due to your jumping at the blaring noise. You exhaled a sigh, placed the mug on the table, and trekked to the ringing phone.

“Hello?”

“Hi, beautiful.” His honey-laced voice greeted you.

A smile tugged at your lips, “Hi, Stevie. How are you doing?”

He huffed at the question which caused a giggle to slip from you, “I wanted to stab my ears so I could block out my dad’s annoying voice and comments. But I’m free now, so can I escape my jail and hide out at your place until dinner tonight?”

You twirled the thick cord ‘round a finger, “as much as I would like to see you, Will kinda needs me right now.” You kept your voice low, and you peeked into the living area to look at Will.

“Is everything okay?” Your heart skipped a tiny beat hearing the worry in Steve’s voice at the mention of Will.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s nothing horrible, just something personal. But I’ll- I’ll call you back when you can come over, or maybe you can come over in like…in like two hours. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll bring some extra stuff to stay over.”

“Perfect. I wasn’t planning on having you leave at the end of the night anyway, Harrington.” The last name holds an implication in the tone.

“Oh really, Byers. And why is that?” 

“Well-” “Please, god, stop!”

Will was fully facing you from the couch and his face was morphed into a disgusted scowl. You chuckled at his annoyance but knew you should hurry up anyway to get back to him.

“I gotta go. I’ll see you later.”

“Okay, don’t have too much fun without me.”

“That won’t be a problem.” And you hung up.

Will watched you as you came back to the couch, polka-dotted mug in hand.

“So…you wanna- wanna talk about it? Your crush.” Your fingers drummed against the ceramic.

Will took the mug from your grasp and chugged half the fluid before setting it on the table. You weren’t gonna rush him, knowing if you pushed someone in the Byers family to open up, most likely they’ll close themselves off.

So you waited and watched as he picked at the skin around his nails. Saw how his top teeth dug into his bottom lip harshly, blood likely to draw if he went any harder. And just when you were beginning to think he had changed his mind, his voice hiccuped.

“I…I like someone…that someone being...” he started picking harder at his skin, “it’s a- it’s a b-boy…” he trailed off, you almost didn’t hear him with the TV still on.

“Oh. Oh.”

Now you understand his pain and hesitation to tell you. But also you’re just a bit hurt to think he was scared to tell you, you understand where he’s coming from.

“Will, I understand that feeling you’re having. Where your brain is telling you it’s wrong to feel these things for someone of the same sex, but your heart is doing somersaults at just the tiny thought of them, getting to hold their hair, watching them smile at a stupid joke you made, or just looking at you like you’re the only person in the world to them. And- and I know people say it’s wrong an- and immoral or some bullshit that they use religion as an excuse, but there is nothing wrong or disgusting or immoral about loving someone.” 

The silence, along with the tones of dialogue in the background filled the space. Your mouth got a bit dry at the end of your speech, need to make sure you got your point across in one go so Will could speak up at any time. You wanted him to ask questions, get those horrible thoughts out of his head and replace them with a new perspective.

“Do you… do you wish you could be normal? Not have these thoughts? I- I know what you went through…when dad was here.” He was looking at you through his lashes.

“Sometimes,” you sighed, remembering laying awake after getting hit by your dad, “but I would never change that about myself. And you should never think about changing yourself just to fit into the norm.”

You held a hand out, palm up with inviting fingers. It took a second, but Will got the message and linked hands with you. He didn’t say anything further, and you didn’t poke for more information. The two of you just sat in the quiet, knowing that the two of you shared something no one else in the family would understand, your bond growing just a bit more that day with each other.

-----------------------------

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*striked out means tumblr cant find your account, sorry*

[snffbeebee]

Poison Apples Chapter 2

{ Catch up with Chapter 1 }

Word Count - 2,620

Warnings - Swearing, a little bit of sexy time...and well just the Mark of Cain doing what it does best. Enjoy, because this baby is just getting started!!!!

“Alright, it’s time to explain,” you stated as you settled onto the bed of the hotel room he selected for the night. “Who the fuck are you and why are people trying to kill you?”

“Not people,” he reminded you. “Demons.”

“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes. 

“Alright,” he sighed out as he sat down the bags on the floor. “Let’s start over. I’m Dean.”

“Not Jonathan Cash?” you snarked.

“No,” he smirked. “Not Johnny Cash.”

“Seriously?” you scoffed at his amusement to his own poor joke. 

“It’s a thing I do,” he shrugged as he sat down in a chair across from you. “And I’m a hunter. I hunt ghosts, demons, all that supernatural kind of stuff that you probably don’t believe in.”

“And now they’re after you?”

“Because of this,” he pointed to that mark on his arm again. “It’s the mark of Cain. With this, I don’t die but I become one of them.”

“A demon?” you snarked. 

“Yes,” he replied. “And he’s not as nice as me.”

“So you were a demon and now you’re not?” you raised your brow. 

“Yeah, there’s a cure to make me human again,” he replied. “But that doesn’t undue its damage.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s hard to explain,” he breathed out deeply. “But fighting and killing… I like it. It’s like it wants me to do it and is always hungry.”

“Well that’s comforting,” you sarcastically stated. There was a long pause as your mind wandered back to the events of the night. “So why haven’t you just killed me?”

“You’re innocent,” he shrugged. “From what I can tell at least. You seem like a good person.”

“Thanks I guess,” you said softly. “So it’s just you?”

“There’s others like my brother,” he looked off. “We’re  not talking at the moment but he’s out there too, looking for me.”

“And you’re hiding from your brother?”

“More like, keeping my distance,” he replied, looking back at you. “He’s gone mad trying to find a cure and I can’t let him get anyone else hurt because of me.”

“I thought you said there was a cure?”

“To being a demon, yes, but to get rid of this? No.” 

“How did you even get that?”

He went on to explain the father of evil, Cain, and how he came to be the newest bearer of the mark and why. He discussed how he had died shortly after because of an asshole angel Metatron and turned demon to run around with the king of hell until his brother and their friend, who was also an angel, cured him. 

“You do know this all sounds insane right?” was all you could really muster out.

“I’m not an idiot. I know it does, but you’re just going to have to trust me.”

“And if I don't?”

“You’ll most likely end up dead,” he replied flatly. “None of them that are after me will care. You’re just another member of collateral damage.”

“Great,” you took a deep breath. “So it’s basically just a matter of time before I either die or go back and go to jail for the rest of my life?” 

“Like I said before,” his eyes met yours. “Listen to me and you’ll be alive.” 

After letting a large puff of air escape through your lips you got up from your spot. He watched you closely as you found the mini fridge. There were little bottles of alcohol inside and you were going to down each and every one of them. After twisting off the top of a vodka, you shot it back in one big gulp. 

You heard a snicker coming from him as you went to open another. You opted to ignore him as you chugged down the second one. 

“It’ll probably be at least a day before they find the bodies at your place, but it’s likely that someone from the hospital will notice your new patient is no longer there and review the cameras.”

“Most likely not until the 1st shift comes in at 8,” you replied. 

“What time does the bank open?”

“9 I think.”

“So that gives us,” he peered at the clock. “About 6 hours to sleep, and an hour to watch our backs til you can get to the bank, and to get the fuck out of town.”

“I need a shower,” you grumbled as you touched your neck. “I need to clean this up.” 

He got up from his spot and moved his hand to your chin to tilt your head back. You flinched for a second, but then allowed him to look. His hand stayed there for a while as he examined, causing a warm feeling inside you to start developing. Lust

or fear?  You did your best to ignore it as he stated that once you were showered he would help to bandage it up. You nodded as you pulled away from him, going to the bathroom to discard your clothing and enter into the shower. You weren’t in there long. You felt vulnerable with him and whatever else was now after you on the other side of the door. After getting dressed you walked out, he was now sitting on the bed with his own little bottle now empty in his hand. 

“Your turn,” you stated as you grabbed your brush out of your bag. “The water isn’t horrible.” 

He got up with a nod, but stopped himself as he approached the doorway to turn to you. 

“I’m sorry I got you involved.”

“Yeah, well you didn’t seem sorry when you had the knife in my back,” you harped back. 

“You mean this,” he pulled out a metal piece of the gurney he was on. It wasn’t a knife. You were never in danger. You felt the anger rise up.

“You asshole,” you seethed. 

“Yeah, I am,” he replied as he set it down. “I can understand if you want to run. I’m not holding you captive.”

“Not like I have a choice now,” you snapped back. 

“Yeah, well,” he sheepishly replied. “I just wanted you to know I never really meant any harm and I promise I won’t hurt you.”

With that he went into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. You were angry, but you understood and you hated yourself for that. You’d rather just be angry at him, but you couldn’t because you knew in that same situation, you might have done the same. 

______

His lips locked on to yours as his hands caressed your body. His fingertips tracing lines on every inch of you until they made their way down to your mound. Rubbing the lips of your entrance, you felt your wetness grow for him as his mouth moved to your neck, taking in your skin with his teeth gently. You were ready for him as he rubbed his digits on your folds before he twisted his digit inside of you, pumping you in and out slowly before he added another. It wasn’t long before he found the spot that made your thighs clench and shake as your orgasam grew. You felt it coming as his lips moved to trail down along your chest and further. You felt your knees buckle as he grew closer. One more second and you were seeing white spots. 

“Y/N,” you heard him speak. You let out a moan in anticipation. 

“Y/N!” you heard him again. “Wake up!”

You snapped your eyes open to see him standing above you all dressed and ready to go. Fuck, it was all a dream. You felt the wetness between your legs as you moved to get up, the slipperiness causing you to want to finish off the job. 

“What time is it?” you asked as you sat up. 

“About 7:45,” he replied. “You okay there? You seemed like you were having a bad dream or something.”

 “Yeah,” you muttered. “I’m good, just a little restless.”

“We’ll get dressed and all your stuff ready,” he instructed. “Be ready to move quick.”

You groaned at his directness, but eventually got up and made your way to the bathroom to get dressed, opting for simple jeans and tshirt with sneakers. You came out and everything was all packed and already looked like room service hit it. 

“Time to fly,” he stated. “How far away is the bank?” 

“Probably take about 15 minutes to get there,” you yawned. “Is there any time for food?”

“There’s coffee and donuts in the lobby,” he replied. “Where’s your phone?”

You pulled it out of your purse, no missed calls as of yet. He grabbed it from you and turned off the location services before handing it back.

“Once we hit the bank, phone is gone,” he warned. 

“Why?”

“911 can still track,” he replied. “I’ll get you a burner one.”

“No one but work calls me anyways,” you stated as you put it away. 

“ No boyfriend or anything that will miss you?”

“No,” you shook your head. “I’m too much of a workaholic for that.”

“Well that makes this easier,” he stated with a shrug as you gave him a hard glare. “Relationships complicate things.”

“This one sure has,” you remarked with a smirk.

“Oh this will be fun,” he chuckled to himself as you both exited the room to head to the next phase. 

“This may be my best one yet.”

______

He pulled up outside of the bank, stating that he would be a block down the street waiting. You were instructed to get as much cash that they would allow and the rest on multiple money orders. You understood the assignment. 

“Hey, I’m moving and would like to make a withdrawal please,” you said to the teller. 

“How much,” she asked as she started filling out the slip. 

“All my checking and savings,” you replied.

She glared at you as her eyes shifted to the screen. 

“That’s over $700,000.”

“I know,” you stated. “I need 10 in cash, if possible and everything else on money orders. Dividends of 25k will work and some odd ones.”

“I need my manager to approve that,” she started to get up.

“Wait,” you whispered. It was enough to stop her. She looked at you with concern. 

“My boyfriend, he’s stalking me and I have to get away,” you replied, acting the best that you could before showing the mark on your neck. “He’s dangerous.”

“Call the police,” she whispered back.

“He is the police,” you replied softly as you did a glance behind you, tears forming in your eyes. “Please help me.”

She was hesitant at first, but then agreed. Domestic abuse, no one really questions and everyone knows someone that has been through it. You won her pity as she finished up the transaction and gave you a gentle ‘good luck’ as you collected the money and checks and put them into your purse. 

As you walked out you heard your phone ring. You looked at it and saw that it was work calling. You wanted to pick it up and tell them what was happening, but was it really a person on the other end or another one of those things. You chucked it into the garbage can on the sidewalk and made your way back to the car. 

“You good?” Dean asked as you entered. 

“Yeah,” you replied. “They called. It’s time to go.”

“Which way?” you raised his brow to you. 

“South,” you replied as you put your purse in the back. “As far down as we can get.”

“Not to pry,” he clicked his tongue as he started to drive. “But how much did you end up being able to get?” 

“Enough,” you chuckled for a moment, remembering that you really didn’t know the guy next to you. “$50,000.”

His eyes widened as he drove.

“Seriously?” 

“Yeah, it’s not much-“

“You’re freaking rich,” he laughed. “No conning pool or cards for you.”

“I guess,” you shrugged. “We should probably find a place to get you clothes.”

“You sure?” he questioned you. “I don’t want you to specially spend your money on me or anything.”

“It will be a gift to myself to not have to smell you in the same clothes after a few days,” you smirked. 

“We will stop when we enter New York, " he stated. “Let's get out of the New England states first.” 

“Sounds good to me,” you said as you leaned back your head. The ride was nice and smooth along the highway. He had the radio on, but only at a muffle. You watched as the scenery went by and slowly, your eyes began to close again.

———

“Hey Y/N,” Dean shook you awake. “Time to get up.”

It was almost dark already when you opened your eyes. You looked around and saw that you were at a gas station. Where, you had no idea. You stretched out your legs as you got out. Your body felt like you were in the car for days. Dean started to pump the gas and asked if you would grab him water and something to snack on. You went in like a kid in a candy store, not knowing what kind of snack he liked and being hungry yourself, you opted for one of almost everything. At least the stuff you would eat if he wouldn’t. While checking out with the snacks and the gas, you heard the door open. You turned your head and saw two guys walking in, looking sketchy and their eyes roaming you. You thanked the cashier and got out of there. Dean wasn’t in sight where you sat in the car and waited patiently. The two guys came out, the one tapping his friend's arm and looking at you in the car. They started to approach you and you wished you had the keys to leave at that second. 

“Hey honey,” the skeezball stated with a grin as he leaned down to your open window. He rested his arms on the ledge causing you to not be able to roll it up. “What are you doing tonight?”

“Go away,” you replied while trying to not look at him or give him notice. 

“We’re having a party,” he continued. “Want to join us?”

You ignored him as best as you could as you noticed him inching in closer. 

“Nice car here,” he commented. “I’d love to take you for a ride in it. How much will it cost me?” 

“Go away”, you stated again. 

“Hey!” you heard Dean shout out. “We got a problem here?”

“My friend was just saying hello,” the other guy who wasn’t at your window responded back. 

“Your boyfriend?” the creepier asked you. 

“Time to say goodbye,” Dean warned.

“Why? We were just inviting her to a party. You can join us if you’d like. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind the three of us taking our turns.”

That was obviously the wrong thing to say to Dean as he punched the one guy and before you knew it both were now down on the ground. The one that had approached you was turning into a bloody mess as Dean sat on top of him, endlessly punching him in the face. 

“Get off Dean!” you cried as you tried to pull him off. “We got to go before the cops come!”

He spit down on the guy as he got up and made his way into the car. You checked the guy for a pulse first before you jumped in the car as well. He was alive, barely. Dean went animalistic on him. You started to have a million more regrets about your travel companion now. What would it take for you to be next?

The Angels & Demons - @ezilyamuzed @daughterofthenight117 @redlipstickandthewinchesters @chocolateheart @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog@ain-t-bovvered @ladysparkles78@waywardbaby@nanie5 @ladywinchesterslibrary @candy-coated-misery0731 @stoneyggirl2 @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @@leigh70 @deans-baby-momma @akshi8278 @hobby27 @jaylarkson @ladywinchester1967 @sonotalice @krazykelly @drakelover78 @19agbrown @pisces-cutie @aloneanddesperate-blog @midnightsilver @dean-winchesters-bacon @waywardnerd67 @bobasheebaby

[2btheanswertothequestion]

“I’m not calling for El.”

Jonathan, just drawing breath to shout El’s name, pauses. Puts the receiver back to his ear with his brow furrowed.

“You’re not?” he asks.

“Nope,” Max says on the other end. There’s movement where she is, rustling and footsteps, and her television is playing what sounds like a car commercial. She lowers the volume before he can catch for which car. “I wanna talk to you. Will said you have a skateboard?”

“I do.”

“Do you know how to use it?”

Jonathan puts the pile of mail, and the butter knife he was opening it with, on the table and slouches against the wall. He does know how to use it, or at least he did. It’s been years since last. Once he started working, there’s wasn’t any time to squeeze in skating for fun between homework and chores. Once he got his driving license, there wasn’t any point in using it for transportation either. But before that, the skateboard saw more wear than the soles of his shoes did.

“Yeah, I do,” he says, because though it’s been years he still knows how, right? It’s like swimming or riding a bike. Once you know, you know.

“Great. Then I have a favor to ask.” She breathes deeply over the line. “Mom doesn't want me out on my own. Because of my eyes and my legs. So, could you, like, help me out?”

––  –– –– –– –– –– –– –– –– ––

The area by the Mayfield trailer isn’t great for skating, with the cracked pavement and the seemingly permanent layer of gravel, and every other area that isn’t actually designated for skating but so used anyway is bound to have other people there. It’s because of that, he guesses, Max tells him to meet her by a little cul-de-sac south of the park. He arrives thirty minutes early to test the road and his rusty skills. Perhaps simply skating there would have been enough to refresh his muscle memory, but why take the chance?

It’s a nice area. The asphalt is even and the lawns are mowed. A few houses have fruit trees in their yards, and every window has the kind of curtain retirees like. A dog, small by the sound of it, yaps from inside one of the houses at one point, but calms quickly. After that, the only noise is the wind and his squeaky wheels.

He was right – it is just like riding a bike. It’s not as smooth as once upon a time, and he can’t go as fast, but he never eats shit. He even nails a kickturn and a tic tac on his first try, and a basic ollie on his second. By the time the Beemer turns up, he’s back to 100% confident in his abilities.

Max jumps out of the car, and for a moment it’s like nothing happened. Her spine is straight and her head is level. Her bright hair is loose and she’s wearing a yellow T-shirt.

Then she looks toward him, and her eyes are just a little unfocused. She walks and her movements are a tad too stiff. It’s impossible to forget the fact that she turned her back on death twice.

While she retrieves her skateboard and crutches from the backseat, Steve rolls down his window and beckons for Jonathan to come closer. He doesn’t have much to say apart from “Hey, man” and “I’ll be back in two hours” and, after leaning in close to whisper, “she won’t admit it, but she gets tired after standing for twenty minutes, so make sure she takes breaks”.

Jonathan promises with a nod and then the BMW drives off.

The first thing she asks is if he brought his board. He replies “yes”. Then she wants to know if he still remembers how to skate. “Yes” again. She nods, pushes a long tress out of her face, and drops her own board onto the road. The crutches, just a precaution according to her, are left lying on the sidewalk as she steps on the board.

When he asks how she wants to do this, she admits she hasn’t ridden in months – only balanced in her room, by her bed – and needs to figure out the basics again. So they start with pushing and stopping. 

He leaves his board behind for it, opting to run next to her as she rides. It’s slow-moving at first, with lots of stops and starts. She wobbles but never falls, the one close-call when she veers too close to the curb and almost crashes aborted by Jonathan grabbing and steadying her. After thanking him she points out it might be a good thing for her to fall, and that he should let her.

He says he’ll consider it if she wears a helmet. She rolls her eyes and makes sure to ride farther from the curb on her next try.

Twenty minutes in he suggests a break, which she manages to delay for an additional five minutes before sitting down to drink some water and eat a banana. Above, the sky turns a shade grayer. She’s unconcerned when he lets her know, instead throwing herself back on the board. The uncertainty from before has all but evaporated off her.

She attempts tricks. Riding switch is easy for her, as is the kickturn and manual. The nose stall is harder since she can’t see when it’s time to shift her weight and balance. They solve the issue by having Jonathan stand on the curb and talk, letting her hear how far away she is. A few dozen or so tries in, she’s memorized the distance and succeeds without him. Cackling, she raises her hand for a high-five; he obliges.

By their second break, Max is almost smiling too wide to drink from her water bottle. Buzzing with excitement, she wants to continue immediately, but he puts his foot down because, happy or not, she’s exhausted. The corners of her eyes droop and despite the high temperature she shivers, goosebumps erupting across her bare arms. She still waves him off when he offers her his jacket.

At least until it starts to rain.

It’s nothing major, just a late summer drizzle. But it might become more, so he’s grateful when she huddles underneath the dark denim, resting it on top of her head to keep her arms free. And then they simply listen.

The clouds keep rolling in, the sky growing darker each second. Both it and the wet pavement are slate gray now, but the leaves are vivid green and the air smells like warmth and earth. Max’s head drifts back and forth, seeking the sounds, zeroing in on the heaviest droplets as they hit the asphalt. His too-big jacket hangs like a curtain around her, shielding her from rain and darkness alike. 

Actually, no. Just the rain. She wards off the darkness on her own. Her sunshine-yellow shirt, her flame-orange hair, her smoke-white skin, so pale it’s almost translucent, the veins running fluorescent on the insides of her wrists. 

She’s glowing like a candle.

“Thanks,” she says. “For being my eyes today.”

“No problem. Thanks for making me finally use this again.” He kicks at his board, the wheels spinning slowly.

“I want to skate at the park or the lot later. When I’m ready.”

“Sure. I’ll be there.”

Max nods, a small smile on her face. Untangling her crossed legs, she pulls them to her chest to rest her chin on her knees.

“Have you heard what Dustin’s been researching?”

“No, what?”

“Well. He has a theory,” she says, and Jonathan actually snorts at her imitation, both expression and cadence a perfect copy of Dustin’s, “on human echolocation.”

Jonathan draws a breath. “Human… echolocation.”

“He thinks that, by studying echoes or whatever, I can learn where things are by snapping my fingers, or doing this,” she says and clicks her tongue. “So, I guess that’s a backup in case that doctor won’t make it work with the surgery.”

“How’s it going with that?”

“I dunno. They’re ‘figuring it out’.” Max makes a face that tells exactly what she thinks of that. “Guess, right now, Dustin Henderson is my best bet.”

She shrugs, her lips curving into a smile’s likeness. The lines around her mouth and shadows by her eyes make her appear both impossibly old and unbearably young. She sniffles, which might be due to the cold, might be something else.

Jonathan says, “His success-to-failure ratio is in your favor.”

“Yeah, I guess,” she says, now smiling for real again.

Anything else they might have to say is cut short by the appearance of Steve’s BMW. It hasn’t been two hours yet, not even one and a half, but the rain is starting to come down harder, so they stow away the items in the trunk to make space for Jonathan and drive off.

The Beemer smells like pine and expensive leather. Steve has the heat on high and the stereo low, and together with the rain smattering on the windows, it creates an ambiance one could fall asleep to. Jonathan sinks into the backseat, draping his jacket over his legs for the sake of the seats, although he’s pretty sure they’ve been through worse things than rainwater. In the front, Max’s pointer finger squeaks against the misted-over window, and as Freddie Mercury sings about losing his way in the darkness, she draws perfect flowers and suns despite not being able to see them.

[bangsinc]

I also don't really like the series but I just love scarecrow voice in it. So can you write HC for that version and TBNAT (I think is written like that, idk 😭) for when his so tells him that they're pregnant and how would he be as a father?- 🩷

💀TNBA Scarecrow X Pregnant! Reader🎃

THIS IS SO REAL. He’s only in like 2 episodes but god his voice is so attractive. Also, I’m such a sucker for a pregnant reader, idk, it’s a sweet trope.

Basic warnings since reader is pregnant. Light mention of vomit and stuff but as usual no Nsfw! Well, obviously a mention of being intimate since reader is pregnant.. and like yknow.

Jonathan’s never nessecarly been sentimental, not even twoards his significant other. While he's been open and a shoulder to cry on, he's never experienced the urge to cry himself. That doesn’t mean he’s never had other.. urges.

It doesn’t come as a complete shock (it does) when the news is initially broken. Of course he is happy, but he’s not sure how to express it. If anything, he’s outwardly acting as if this might be a slight issue.. which it is.

Hes thought of having kids with his partner, but given the life he leads that idea manifesting is slim to none. None of his goons are even aware of your existance, he’s keeped the very idea of him ever having a partner tucked away in their feeble minds. You’re too important for him to go around flaunting.

If you two weren’t married, expect him to push a very, very quiet wedding. One or two people, maybe a villian he trusts with this sort of information. He wants this kid, if you want it too.

He hires multiple at home nurses during the 8 months. He keeps them descreet, having them snuck in nearly everyday to assist you the more time goes by. He’s very much there by your side, noticiably not being seen as much by his goons. He can’t just stop doing what drives him, but he loves you too much for you not to be a big priority.

He’s a little more emotionally transparent during the pregnancy. He’s clingy, suprisingly, constantly holding onto you whenever you both are in proximity. Hes created something with you perminantly, you are his now, and of course he’s yours, so he’s pretty much ride or die by now. Not only that, but the fact you were so willingly intimate with him, given his profession and chemically scarred appearance.. he’s never finding another. You’re the only woman that could ever matter to him.

That being said, if he wasn’t already pushing you away from his ‘line of work’, he’s making sure you never even see a single vial of fear toxin. He’s not aware of the effect something such as that could have on you, espically in the state your in. He’s not sure what he would be able to do with himself if you got into an accident.

He’s by your side along with multiple at home nurses when you give birth, holding onto your hand the entire time and not even daring to flinch no matter how hard you squeeze it. He doesn’t have emotion in his voice as he attempts to soothe you, but he is.. happy.

Hes not emotionally distant as a father, but he doesn’t know how to handle children. He keeps basic precautions, such as keeping them away from his lab equipment and fear toxin, but what if his baby is terrified of him?

He’s hired men,,, and payed them rather handsomely to help make a seperate room for the baby to you and his liking. He’s very communicative during this, although he is more driven by what makes you happy.

He can’t exactly play with a baby, either. His leg prohibits a lot of extensive movement, and he’s a bit of an older villian as it is. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to spend time with the kid, far from it. He’s still a villian through and through, but his crimes have gotten less extravagant with all the times he spends assisting you and his kid.

Batman even grows more leniant, noticing that he isn’t actually a terrible dad. He takes his time apprehending Jonathan, and even then he makes sure it’s a possibility for you and him to see eachother with your kid.

He’s not a fun dad, but he loves his kid and you through and through. He’d do anything to protect the both of you, you’re the only people truly connected to him, the only people he actually cares for.