#A Stranger's Offer

[eclecticcrafting]

A Stranger's Offer

Description:

Roxanne Stone, a Magi woman, has never left her hometown of Kore. Feeling trapped and wanting to look for something better than what Kore could offer, she starts to seek a way out.

Oliver Tull comes from the big city of Dorath, having left after his sister's death to become a doctor in the small town of Kore.

As Oliver and Roxanne start dancing along the lines of romance, Oliver needs to go back to Dorath for a family affair. Promising to return, Oliver leaves for Dorath. In his absence, Roxanne is offered an opportunity to leave her small town for an adventure.

A mysterious old man looks to recruit adventures to locate and obtain the Three Objects of Power, Roxanne quickly volunteers and is joined by her lifelong best friend, Azmi, and Oliver's clinic clerk, Petra. When Oliver catches wind of the journey, he comes along for the ride for himself.

The first Object of Power is located, but with it comes some serious family secrets for Roxanne.

Part 1 - Harvest Party - Roxanne's POV

Length: 8157 words

Silk-like fabric ran over my skin as I swam my way through the kelly-green dress. I fussed with the mess of fabric until I found one sleeve, then the second, then the neckline. As soon as I could see again I smoothed the fabric against me and looked myself over in the mirror. I reminisced over why this was my favorite party dress: the vibrant satin shined as I moved, and the sleeves were gentle on my shoulders and came to just above my elbows. The V-shaped neckline rested at the top of my bust without exposing too much. The waistline of the dress sat nicely at my natural waist. As I looked at myself, I gathered handfuls of the skirt and turned too-and-fro in the mirror. The swish of the skirt was delightful, and I spun in a circle just to feel the skirt pull out at its length.

"Perfect," A giddy smile stretched across my face as I smoothed the fabric back into place.

Quickly, I finished the look. I gathered my nude dancing heels, brushed my hair and pulled it half back, and donned a rose quartz necklace. The look was simple, and simple is what I liked best for the Harvest Party.

I placed my hands on my stomach and focused on my breathing, I felt like I was fluttering. There weren't many social events in Kore and this was the biggest one, most of the town's young adults would be present to celebrate the large harvest the town had. Ol' Man Murphy cleans out his barn every year to let the young adults have a space and mingle with each other. The Count had large parties that he opened for all, but this party was different - it was for us specifically, without the pressure to impress the community.

A brisk knock sounded on my door and Darien popped into the room. He had his dark brown hair pushed back away from his face, he wore a simple purple dress shirt and light pants. The musk scent that wafted in after him made me suspicious – he never wore anything like it.

Darien looked at me and chuckled lightly to himself as he crossed his arms, "are you expecting to get whisked away tonight?"

"I suppose I could ask you the same question," I said as I waved my hand in front of my nose.

Darien tucked his nose into his collar and gave a quick sniff, "you're fine," I told him as I walked past him into the hall, "Are you ready to go?"

"Yes, I think so," he smoothed his shirt down as he walked more into the apartment himself, "Do you know if Jackson is going?"

We turned briefly to look at the door that was across from mine, I shrugged in response and went to knock on his door. "Jack?" I called.

The door swung open as soon as I knocked. I stepped back from the door and pulled my fist into my chest from the sudden surprise. Jackson had a wide smile and some of his blond locks fell into his face. He took a few strides towards the stairs leading to the shop. Once he was far enough from us, he did a causal spin with arms held wide. He was dressed in a light blue button-down shirt and similar light pants to Darien.

"I have gone every year I could go, I am not missing one just yet," Jackson chuckled and was ready to lead us out.

Together the three of us descended the steps and entered our family's shop. The shop was lit with a few floating orbs, mostly concentrated in a corner. I looked to see our mother kneeling on the floor reshelving some books. Her blonde hair pulled back in a messy top knot.

She heard us approaching the front door, and she looked up from her perch, "heading out?" she asked as she used her wrist to wipe at her face, her fingertips blackened with dust and dirt.

"Yes, ma'am," Jackson responded, he opened the door for us, the shop bell chiming in response.

"Well, have fun, and come home in one piece!" She waved and went back to her project.

Once I was fully in the night air, my skin started to pucker as the night was already brisk from the setting of the autumn sun. I clutched my hands around my arms and waited for my brothers to gather.

"Cold, Anne?" Darien asked as Jackson shut the door behind him, "You can still grab your coat."

"No, I will just end up leaving it," I shrugged, "plus I am sure I won't miss it as the night goes on."

"Anne, you don't need to be bringing anyone home just to warm up, that is quite rude honestly," Jackson said in a dry tone as he looked up the road.

I started walking, my brothers following suit, "I really don't think anyone that I bring home would complain too much," I said flipping my hair off my shoulder and then giving Jackson a cool glance.

"Right, right, says the spinster still living at home with her mother," Jackson teased back, this caused Darien and I to both start busting out laughing at his audacity.

Up the road, there were a few other well-dressed individuals walking to the farmlands. A few couples, a few women grouped together, and a few single men nervously trotted along.

As we walked, we passed by the medical clinic in town. Locking the door was a tall man dressed in a white shirt and black pants. His red curls glistened in the moonlight. When he turned, he was carefully tucking his keys in his pocket and looked up to see Jackson waving him down.

"Oi, Doc, are you coming out this year?" Jackson called out.

Oliver laughed a little and called in kind, "Yes I am! I think after three years, it's time." We stopped walking as Oliver walked to us, "Is it okay if I walk with you? I am afraid that I may get lost without some help."

Jackson looked over Darien and me, "Of course, Oliver, Magi are always happy to help a friend," Darien smiled, putting a hand in his pocket, and started walking again. Jackson and I fanned out a little to envelop Oliver in our group.

Oliver glanced down at me and I noticed one of his eyebrows raise in response. Oliver smiled a little and looked away. I felt a flush cross my cheeks from his smile, it was a soothing feeling, but I started to feel a flutter in me rise again. I cleared my throat with a small cough, the noise seemed to catch Oliver's attention as he turned to look at me briefly.

"Has it really been three years in Kore for you?" I asked as we walked.

"Yes! I can hardly believe it." Oliver said.

The road up ahead was getting denser with attendees, all the childless or unwed young adults of our little community. As we passed, men and women glanced our way. Some with friendly waves and hellos, others with cautious awe. Our family was the only family of Magi in Kore, there were two other individuals who were vastly different in personality but were both reclusive in nature. Our family was the only one that made regular appearances and participation in the community.

Oliver was from a bigger city and was most likely more exposed to more Magi, though I never had gotten much of a chance to ask him about it. When he first moved here, he did receive some suspicion of being a Magi himself since he was an herbalist and associated with our family frequently.

As we neared the barn, music could faintly be heard in the air. The fence posts had ribbons and lights leading the way. The people that were on the road with us were getting antsy, and some started skipping and trotting up the path. I looked at my brothers, Jackson had kept his pace steady and was looking around as he walked along. Darien was obviously scanning the crowd.

I wasn't sure who he was looking for, he usually kept his affections private. To see him excited to meet with someone was refreshing as he normally just worked around the shop. Darien scanned and scanned, with a slight downward pull in his smile as he kept going.

Suddenly, Darien shot his arm up and started waving at someone. Soon I could see a small-framed brunette jumping up and down in the crowd, two thin arms waving excitedly.

"I have to go, you two are on your own this year!" Darien said as he ran off to greet this girl in a purple dress who stepped away from her own group to wait for him.

I looked to Jackson, who had the same puzzled look on his face as Darien (who was the most responsible and even-keel of the three of us) took off to wrap his arm around an unnamed girl.

"We won't bother him," Jackson gave a stern warning.

I looked to Oliver who had raised an eyebrow at me, I then returned the same eyebrow raise to Jackson, "We won't bother him tonight" I rephrased.

"Correct," A mischievous look ran across Jackson's face, "tomorrow is fair game."

The three of us continued walking towards the barn. Oliver was taller than most of the crowd here, unfortunately for me I was a little on the shorter side of the population. Jackson wasn't much shorter than Oliver, so I depended on the two of them to help navigate through the crowd.

"So, is all of this about the harvest?" Oliver asked as he worked on picking a path through the crowd.

"Mostly, once the harvest is finished, the community comes together to celebrate a job well done, but it is also a night that men will shoot their shots with women, women will turn them down, people get drunk and others dance until their feet are blistered." Jackson jabbed a thumb at me, "They nicknamed this event 'the Ballroom of Romance' as it is many times over the night that people get together, or engaged, or something."

"There is nothing like this in Dorath," Oliver said in awe.

"Well, even with the Count's parties, this is nothing in comparison. Think: for the people by the people," Jackson fanned out his hands with every word of his last statement.

"Usually, the three of us stay somewhat together, you are welcome to stay with us if you want some familiar faces," I offered. I had been watching Oliver soak this all up, he was in utter amazement as we reached the barn.

Inside, the ceilings were high and the building was fairly large even for a barn. In the center, there was a large wooden dance floor with people moving in sync with the music. A band with fiddles, flutes, and lutes, all of it was filling the space with beautiful music. There were many people around talking and laughing, there was food and drink offered at the other end of the barn.

Across the way, I saw a familiar white fluff bobbing between people towards us. Jackson saw the friend coming towards us and looked at me, I met his gaze, and he flicked his eyes to Oliver and back to me. I furrowed my brow at him.

Are you here with Azmi this year? Jackson's voice entered my mind. It was a bit louder than I was expecting as it was like he was talking at his normal volume right into my ear.

No, I am not, I'm stag this year. I thought back at him. Jackson shifted his attention to Oliver.

"I am going to grab a drink, would you like to come with me, Oliver?" Jackson asked.

Oliver seemed startled by the shift in attention, but he collected quickly, "You know what, yes, I could use a drink after this week," Oliver laughed and followed Jackson to the refreshment table.

As they left, a burst of energy popped out of the crowd and swept me up in a hug. I had muscular arms around my waist and the room spun in my vision as I was swung around.

I let out a quick squeal as I heard a joyous voice, "Annie! I am so glad to see you here!" I was set down, and I was greeted with a large smile. The man in front of me had white curly hair and matching lashes, tan almond skin, and purple eyes melted as they looked at me. Azmi was back from his travels just in time for the Harvest Party.

Azmi was one of the two individual Magi in Kore, he lived closer to the forest than the town. He had been a permanent fixture in my life as my parents took him in as much as he would let them - he had no parents of his own but was much like a stray cat that loved his independence. Azmi always found comfort with my family, but as he grew older, he traveled often, for longer and longer periods of time. He never really mentioned what he traveled for, but he would either come back with interesting stories or fascinating gifts.

To see him here at the Harvest Party was a rare treat, as he never had rushed to come back for specific events.

"You're back!" I said as I gripped his shoulders. His smile was softened, and he gave me a peck on the forehead.

"I am glad I was able to make it because you look fantastic!" He said, "I almost didn't make it in time either, I had met some other Magi on the road and stayed with them for a while."

"You need to tell me all about it!" I begged, then the music changed to something lively, causing Azmi to grab my hand.

"I will later!" He led me to the dance floor.

Quickly, we found some space and assumed a position as we have many times before. Our palms met between us at shoulder height, Azmi's free hand behind his back, and mine held my skirt to exaggerate the swing as we orbited around each other. We switched to opposite hands around waists and rotated in the opposite direction. Azmi took my hand and spun me out, then back to him. Bringing me close enough that I could feel his chest rising with every breath.

In unison, all the dancing pairs matched our movements to the temp of the song. Flowing dresses, laughter and smiles, the crowd moved together in the folk dance. We never looked away from each other, sure in our movements.

In Azmi's face, I could see his excitement to be back. We had not seen each other for roughly three months this time, but it was as if there was never any distance. I never had my heart set on seeing him at this event, as he is like an ocean tide - he will go but he will always eventually come back.

The band brought the song to a close and all the dancers paused to applaud them. I turned to Azmi who was already watching me with a broad smile.

"I'm going to find Jackson," I told him, "We have Dr. Tull joining us tonight,"

Azmi's expression shifted from pure joy to a strained polite smile, "Dr. Tull? I never thought he could break away from his work long enough to have some fun," Azmi's voice was cool.

"Be nice, Azmi," I warned, "It is his first time out, we want to show him a good time."

Azmi didn't say another word but clasped his hands behind his back and walked with me off the floor. Nearby I saw Jackson and Oliver.

"Where is Darien?" Azmi questioned, his fluffy white hair bouncing as he swiftly looked over the room while we approached.

"Darien apparently had a secret date tonight," Jackson said, taking a sip of wine.

"Oh?" A sly grin snuck onto Azmi's face, "I think I need to find my old friend and let him know that I have returned with amazing stories of my most recent travels!" The bravado in his voice was thick, he then disappeared into the crowd.

The three of us watched him leave, weaving in and out of people. "You may as well have released a snake in a bird's nest," I told Jackson when I could no longer see Azmi.

Jackson didn't respond, but he took another sip from his glass. Oliver being the tallest, had the best vantage point of seeing Azmi hunt through the crowd for Darien.

After a long moment, Oliver stopped watching and turned to me. I just noticed that he had two glasses when he started to hand me one.

"Here, Rox," He gave me a glass that was half full of white wine. The scent was sweet, slightly tangy, and familiar.

I thanked Oliver and took a sip; the distinct flavor of snowberry wine was strong in my mouth and the tang radiated down my body as I swallowed.

"I didn't know you danced!" Oliver said.

"I don't get to often," I continued sipping the wine, "But I will when I get the chance!"

"Well, you are fantastic and a marvel to watch," Oliver's words were seamless, but he blushed at what he said just a second later.

"I mean... You really show grace... and enthusiasm... and you could obviously dance well and could easily find a place in a royal court if you wanted to and" Oliver was sputtering. Jackson just watched as Oliver's obvious horror of not being able to stop continued to grow, Oliver kept rambling making Jackson cough to hide his laughter. Oliver's complexion had started to turn bright red, enough to match his hair. His words had tumbled out of his mouth like eggs falling out of a basket.

"Oliver," I said sternly and he quickly stopped talking, I softened my expression "Thank you, it means a lot,"

When he had quieted I asked him a question in turn, "Do you dance at all yourself?"

"No, not much. I mean sometimes, on my travels I learned a thing or two but I feel I mostly have two left feet." Oliver responded quickly then took a long drink - draining his glass.

"I will be right back," Oliver said and nearly ran away. Once Oliver was out of earshot, Jackson turned to me.

"I think he likes you," Jackson teased, nudging me with his elbow.

I brushed Jackson away from me, "Or he could just be nervous about being out of his element," I snapped and took a drink from my glass. Out of nowhere, a young man I have seen around town a few times approached us.

"Um, Miss Roxanne, may I have this dance?" His voice was smooth and he offered his hand to me.

I agreed and handed off my glass to Jackson. He made a face when I handed off the glass, but I just waved in response as I was led back to the wooden dance floor.

Once again, all the dancers moved together. My current partner was nothing like Azmi. He had tugged me this way and that - showing that he was a lead dancer that didn't have complete trust in my ability to follow.

At the end, we clapped and parted ways again. I scanned for Jackson and saw that he had moved to talk with some peers of his. Oliver was out to the side, sitting on a hay bale that was laid out as makeshift seating. There were a few people having polite conversations with him, but his body language showed that he was not completely invested.

I walked to Oliver and as I approached, he perked up. "Did Jackson leave you to your own devices?" I questioned. Oliver politely stood up as I neared.

"Oh no, my former colleague called me over, apparently a few from Dorath made it out this way as well," Oliver said as a blond man with a bushy beard nodded at me.

"Former colleague from Dorath? That is quite the trip just for our little town," I reached out my hand to shake the colleague's, who gave a firm squeeze in return.

"Yes, well, I was traveling near and decided to make the trip," His voice sounded gravelly as he spoke, "The name is Doctor Arthur Muller. And you are quite divine on the dance floor, Miss...?"

"Roxanne Stone," I introduced myself, "and thank you,"

"Always welcome, Miss Stone," There was a smile in his voice and eyes but it was hidden under his beard, "Perhaps I may be able to steal a dance myself?"

"Perhaps, though I was saving the next one for our good doctor," I smiled at Oliver and placed my hand on his arm. Oliver's face started to blush again and his smile was uneasy. He looked down his long Roman nose at the floor to avoid meeting my eyes.

"But of course, I would hate to steal away what the 'good doctor' has been waiting for," the man gave Oliver a slap on the shoulder, "before the night is through, I hope" Then he walked away from us.

"Rox, you could have just told him no," Oliver nervously chuckled.

"I know," I said as I took the cup out of his hand and set it down on the bale. I looped my arm through Oliver's and led him to the floor with a small amount of resistance.

"I was curious as to what that 'thing or two' you learned was," I told him as we started to find a place on the floor.

Oliver's mouth opened and promptly shut as I stopped us just shy of the center of the dance floor. He carefully looked at his fellow dancers and assumed the same position: one hand on my waist and the other holding my hand. I gently placed my free hand on his shoulder, without the dancing heels his shoulder was as far as I came up to him. Being this close to him, the foot-height difference felt very obvious. His hand was lightly trembling as he held mine, and the hand that was on my waist was barely there.

The dancers around us galloped around the perimeter of the floor, Oliver worked to keep pace as we dipped our torsos high and low. Soon, we stopped and he grabbed my hand so I could spin out. He tugged me back, I stopped with him behind me and my arms crossed over my chest. He bobbed to either side of me and I turned in kind to meet him, keeping time to the music. We turned out and rotated around each other, with clasped hands up. My free hand was at my skirt and his behind his back. I turned into him and he clasped me to his side and spun with me.

We continued to dance the rest of the song with more ease. He relaxed and let me move with confidence. It was clear he was a natural at this. As he moved more he let his guard down and watched me more.

I saw his nerves melt away as we danced, and his face was lit up with joy and confidence. The more I watched him, the more I studied his features. His eyes were the same color as cobblestones in the sunshine. His face was long with a well-defined jaw that tapered to an almost point. His nose was long, thin, and the bridge of his nose was slightly arched. His hair was short on the sides and back, with the length mostly on top, with his hair parted towards the right. The length of his hair naturally fell over his right eye. His sideburns ran long against the sides of his face. His skin was creamy in color, and the pale color exposed his emotions way too easily.

Never have I really looked at Oliver, he was gorgeous in his own right. I could feel his broad shoulders and muscular chest under my hand. I could feel his warmth, strength, and steadiness in his hands on me. This was the first time we really touched beyond handing the other something. There was electricity with how we moved together - at first we stumbled a little, but now we are gliding together more seamlessly than Azmi and I ever did.

The song ended and we applauded the band again. Oliver had a large smile spread across his face.

"It has been years since I danced like this," Oliver's smile was large enough he closed his eyes in pure joy. "Thank you, Roxanne,"

"No two left feet to be found," I said as nudged him, "but anytime at all, Oliver." I smiled in return. He looked down at my hand that was now on his arm and met my eyes.

"Perhaps I could steal you for one more," Oliver's expression was purposeful and courageous. Nothing like the blushing mess he had been just moments before. His gaze was hot as he stared me down. Now I felt my own cheeks alight with heat, and my heart fluttered. The hair on the back of my neck stood up as I was wordless.

Everyone if you so wish I thought but couldn't bring myself to say.

I swallowed, "Yes, of course," I smiled at him. His eyes were intense and I couldn't pull away. When I agreed he softened and took my hand.

We danced swiftly to the next song, and neither of us worried about the other's movements. We smiled and laughed. I got to see the carefree side of the studious doctor. I grew to appreciate the feeling of him picking me up and swinging me as we danced. His hands were becoming familiar despite our height difference there was no struggle for us to match each other. Oliver was slowly becoming bolder with his movements, but the song had ended right when he was getting started.

"Do you want something to drink?" Oliver asked as we finished dancing to the current song. There was a certain ease to him now.

"Yes please," I said, Oliver then started to offer his elbow to me, but there was a hitch of hesitation. It seemed as if his nerves started to surface again. The scarlet started to return to his face and he looked ahead as he put his arm back to his side.

Assertively, I laced my arm through his as we walked off the floor. I looked up and could see the blush creep into his ears and he tucked his elbow closer to his body but not so much to signal me to let go. He stared straight ahead as we walked to the refreshments. Once we reached the table, he handed me a plain cup filled halfway with snowberry wine. He grabbed one for himself as well, then led us to a free bale of hay to sit at.

Once I was seated, I took a long sip of the wine. It was a little warmer now, but still very sweet. The flavor hit my tongue and I savored the tanginess. I took a deep breath and looked at Oliver.

He was stiff and awkward next to me. I noticed that one of the buttons on his shirt had been undone. His white skin showed as well as some subtle tufts of red chest hair to poke through. The skin was tight and hinted at his muscular structure. I sucked a breath in and averted my gaze.

I traced my finger over the rim of my cup, not knowing what to say to him. Still searching for words, I took another long sip.

"So..." I started as I removed the cup from my lips, "Why did you decide to come out this year?" I asked.

"Hmm?" Oliver hummed, "Oh, I heard so many people come through the clinic talking about it over the last three years, it just felt like it was time to go," Oliver gave a small chuckle before continuing. "When you were passing the Clinic, I was still trying to decide if I was going to go or not. So when Jackson invited me to join, it felt like a sign."

"Well, I am glad that you joined us," I said and I - awkwardly - placed my hand on his forearm. Oliver gave me a soft look, his hair had fallen a little, fiery red curls veiling his right eye, making his gaze a little more intense. I felt heat rising in me again, my ears tingling and I felt my palms starting to sweat. I removed my hand from him and finished my glass.

When I finished my drink, I felt warm and a little wobbly.

"There you are!" Azmi's voice called, I heard Oliver sigh a little as Azmi came to me, Oliver's hair swayed a little as he turned to watch Azmi almost skip up to us, with a purposeful expression.

"Pardon me, Dr. Tull, I am going to steal Anne for a dance," Azmi said as he grabbed my hand before I could say a word. Azmi pulled me up from my seat and led me away. I looked over my shoulder to cast a glance back to Oliver who I exchanged a puzzled look.

As Azmi and I passed through I locked eyes with Jackson. I nodded my head back to Oliver, hoping he understood.

The song that was played was slower and more intimate. As Azmi and I joined the floor, He wrapped his arm around the small of my back and held my hand firmly in a gentle grip. His purple eyes watched me intensely as I assumed my own posture with my arm around his shoulder. Azmi leaned in to whisper in my ear, drawing himself closer to me.

"I know who Darien is with," There was an uptick in his voice, hinting at a smile.

"Who is it," my question was rushed.

"Her name is Sarah, she is traveling from Sorsa to a different city up north with her parents. They are taking a week's rest here before resuming travel. She said they were seeking safe haven with a distant relative of sorts."

"Where is Sorsa?"

"It's a coastal city, very southeast of here," Azmi took a quick pause, "It's quite nice there, you would love it."

"I still need to travel with you eventually,"

"Yes! I haven't forgotten. I am just trying to find a great spot for your first excursion with me." Azmi's voice got low and his arm around me a little tighter.

"Rox," Azmi started as he turned us, something longing in his voice. As we turned though, I saw Darien on the floor with the girl that he ran off with.

"Is that her?" I asked, but Azmi didn't answer right away. He turned us so he could see what I was talking about.

"Yes," Azmi whispered back. I turned us around so I could really get a better look.

Darien had an expression I have never seen. He was gazing down at her, his hand posture was gentle and polite. He had an easy, lopsided smile and his green eyes never shifted from her.

Sarah had long mousy brown hair that was pulled back with a ribbon headband. Her dress was layered, purple on top but the top layer split down the middle to expose a flowing white skirt.

Before I could really study her face, Azmi turned us again. "Don't be suspicious," He whispered, turning his face more into my ear.

"What does her family do?"

"I believe she said her family farmed but their lands were destroyed which is why they are moving."

"How much longer is she here?"

"Maybe about two more days?"

"How did she meet D?"

"She apparently came into the shop one day, he was working the counter, and he gave her a protection charm."

"Really?" I hummed, this tidbit made me wrack my memory for when he was working the counter recently, as I may have crossed her path too. "How did you get this information?" I turned my face more into Azmi to playfully question him.

He laughed and pulled away from me a little to look at me, "I stole a dance because I knew D would be too nice to stop me," Azmi had a mischievous tone to his voice.

He knew that my brothers and I were sticklers for most polite conventions, particularly in public spaces. Our parents reminded us as we grew up that we could be looked at differently due to being Magi, it was important to put the best foot forward. Darien was the one that took it most to heart.

"This is why I keep you around," I winked at Azmi.

The band ended the song, and the crowd broke away from the dance floor as the band readied for the next set. I grabbed Azmi by the arm and walked through the crowd buzzing to find Jackson.

By this point, my head and eyes were feeling fuzzy between the wine and dancing. I was still coherent enough to enjoy myself. We found Jackson and Oliver by the refreshment table again, not far from where I left Oliver. I grabbed a third cup of wine and looked at the two. Oliver's eyes flicked to my arm in Azmi's, who gripped it a little tighter as we arrived. Oliver then avoided looking at either Azmi or myself. I felt very aware of Azmi by my side when I looked at Oliver, who became more focused on his drink or on Jackson.

I looked at Jackson myself, "Azmi found out who she is," I exclaimed.

Oliver's brow furrowed in confusion and then looked at me, but once our eyes met his eyebrow twitched and he looked away quickly.

"I would hope so with how he ran off," Jackson had a cocky smile to him now.

I detailed all the information Azmi had told me about her. The information wasn't much but it was a start. Jackson and Oliver listened intently, exchanging glances here and there and sipping on their drinks. As I talked and sipped wine myself, I felt a little fuzzier. Normally, I can hold my wine well, but this feels stronger than it has been in previous years.

"Sorsa? That's about a week's travel from here to begin with." Oliver thought aloud.

"Have you been?" I asked.

"Yes, twice, it is a lovely little town on a warm coast, it was also probably one of my favorites to travel to."

"Really? Do you travel often then?" I have not seen Oliver leave Kore over the last 3 years now that I think about it.

"I try to, the exposure is good for the mind," Oliver added with a brief smile.

"It certainly is," Azmi chimed in, being polite but unimpressed.

"Well, we will have to get more information from D tomorrow, thank you Azmi," Jack nodded.

"Just remember, my help isn't always free," Azmi said in a cool and playful tone. Jackson and Azmi exchanged brief looks - Jack must have said something to him as Azmi shifted his weight and loosed my arm from his side.

"Anne, I will talk with you later," Azmi squeezed my hand and kissed my temple before he walked off.

Oliver carefully watched him leave as he tapped his finger on his cup. Once Azmi was gone, he spoke again, "So, I take it that you and Azmi are very close?" Oliver's tone was careful.

"Yes," I smoothed my dress, my hands were sweating, I refilled my glass as we were standing next to the refreshment table. "We basically grew up together, he is my best friend." I studied Oliver's face, which looked slightly solemn under his half-smile.

"Azmi became a part of our family at a young age, but his love for travel was too big for Kore. He travels a lot too, I have asked to come with him a time or two, but he is very particular about how he travels."

My words about my relationship with Azmi kept tumbling one after another. I couldn't stop. Oliver's facial expression shifted from polite conversation to confusion, to interest as I kept talking.

Anne, pull it back. Jackson's voice was in my head again. I snapped my mouth shut and took a nervous sip of wine but the glass was already empty. How?

I contemplated refilling the glass, but Jackson's watchful look made me anxious. My heart was fluttering, I felt my nose warming, and my eyes were starting to work harder on focusing on my surroundings.

"Have you had a chance to travel?" Oliver asked me as I set the cup off to the side.

"I haven't been outside of Kore," I shook my head.

Oliver looked to Jackson, "Our mother travels frequently, I have gone with her a few times to help procure new items for the shop, but that was the most I have done myself."

"Well, travel is often better with the company," Oliver agreed, he seemed stiff when Azmi was here or when he was brought up in conversation. Now, he seems to be relaxing.

"You haven't really left Kore since you got here, have you, Oliver?" Jackson responded.

"No... I used to love to travel, but since I have been here I haven't found the time or reason to go." Oliver added, Jackson's eyes shot briefly to me then back to Oliver.

"Sounds like some...thing is keeping you tethered here," Oliver gave an uneasy grin and raised his eyebrows in response.

"Something like that," Oliver looked down his long nose again, "The clinic and herbery have been keeping me fairly busy."

"Whelp, I hope that is a good thing," Jackson put firmly patted Oliver's shoulder but something caught Jackson's attention off to the side.

"Well, if you two will excuse me, I think it is my turn to dance," Jackson then handed his cup off to me as I did to him before. I looked at it in confusion, but Jackson just waved at me as he left.

"Ass," I muttered and I heard Oliver sniffle back a laugh, I examined the glass and noticed that there was still about half of the wine there. I threw it back and set the cup on the table.

I felt hot, the air in the barn had warmed a lot from the bodies and the lights, and the wine was also very warming. I felt dizzy and I was losing focus. I knew I still had to walk home too. I took a deep breath and looked at Oliver who was looking around the barn again.

"I think I am going to take a step outside, I need to cool down a little," I said and ran my sweating palms down my skirt.

"I think I will step out with you, I could use some fresh air myself," Oliver said, my eyes then fixed on his shirt.

A second button was undone, his chest didn't have a lot of hair but the red strands contrasted against his pale skin. The shirt had opened some to hint at a well-defined chest. The urge to run my fingers over it, to feel the coarseness of his hair, to feel the taught muscle under my hand, washed over me. I was able to keep my hand to myself thankfully, by looping my arm through his again.

When I took the slightest step I stumbled into his side, "Damn heels," I mumbled and collected myself again.

"Darling, I don't think it is the heels," Oliver teased. He pinned my arm to his side and held his hand over mine as we walked out together. As we walked, not many noticed us, though there were many people, so many people, when did there become this many? They moved out of our way but were invested in their own affairs.

When we exited, the air was crisp and cold. I sucked in a deep breath and felt my body adjust to the cold. On the back of my neck, my hair raised, and my skin puckered with goosebumps. I pointed off to the side of the barn where there were fewer people and Oliver led the way.

Together, we crossed the grass and rounded the corner. My head was fuzzy, and my eyes felt heavy. On the way, I tripped once but Oliver was ready to steady me. Once on the other side of the barn, we both leaned against the wall. It was cool and solid; it was so nice.

My arm was still looped through Oliver's, he was incredibly warm in contrast to the cold air. I pulled closer to his side and a shudder jerked through me.

"Cold?" Oliver asked, and I kicked off my heels and rested my head at his shoulder.

"Yeah, a little," I shrugged, another shutter.

Oliver released my arm to wrap his around my shoulders. I felt a flash of warmth burst through my chest and stomach. I was tingling at the touch, and my breath caught in my throat.

"Better?" Oliver adjusted next to me, I looked to see that he was now looking at me. His eyes were searching for something, and his face was starting to turn red, but he didn't seem like he was too terribly nervous.

It was odd... when others were around, he was anxious when around me. When we were alone, he was confident and seemed like a different person. He was such a cool and collected person normally with a ready supply of sarcasm. I didn't see him much outside of a professional atmosphere, but there were a few times he joined our family for dinner, and he was always comfortable with us.

Tonight, seemed different, he kept switching between swagger and worry.

Right now, he watched me carefully, his intensity was back. His red hair fell against the right side of his face; his arm was gentle across my shoulders. I could see his heart pounding furiously in his neck, but the sound of mine was overwhelming. He had a half smile drawn across his lips, and his skin smelt salty with a lingering hint of the herbs that he sold at the clinic.

I took a chance, "Just a bit," I teased him. His grip around me got a little tighter and he turned to stand in front of me.

Yes. I gulped hard as his hands started to move. The arm around my shoulders dropped to my waist, and his other tilted my chin up. He slowly leaned down to me, his breath hitched and his lips hesitated at mine.

He left just a teasing space between us, I could feel his breath shake. My eyes moved to meet his. His gaze was soft, I could almost feel the upturn of his lips as he was stopped in front of me.

"My, your heart is pounding," Oliver teased, his fingers were close to my throat as they rested on my chin, there was no way that his trained hands wouldn't have been able to feel my pulse.

I could barely breathe, what is he waiting for?

I tilted my chin up just a fraction and that was all he needed. Next, his lips were on mine. He started out slow and gentle, but when he tried to pull away slightly - I followed. My fingers were wrapped up in his white shirt, he moved the hand that was under my chin to my back.

He moved from being gentle to hungry. He kissed me harder, and I returned the passion. His body was long against mine as he had engulfed me in his embrace.

I moved my hands to be around his shoulders, and as I adjusted - so did he. He quickly picked me up and pressed me against the wall. My knees straddled him, letting him mold to my body. I gripped his shirt in one hand, the other laced through his hair.

His hands were firmly on my legs, his thumbs pressing into my thighs. I pulled lightly at his hair, to which he released a soft moan and dug his fingers a little harder into me. Oliver pushed all of his weight into me, and I squeezed his waist with my thighs.

He was warm, and I could feel his firm muscles against me. I used my lips to open his and there wasn't even the slightest protest. We tentatively explored a bit further.

My mind was in a tizzy, was this real? He felt very real under my grip.

His hands held onto me, and his hair was soft and textured. Oliver parted from me briefly to catch a breath of air. He then moved his hungry searching from my lips to my neck. I felt my grasp on his hair get tighter, I was panting.

Something stopped in me though.

I pulled back on his hair gently, "Wait," I told him.

I felt Oliver's teeth against my neck in a grimace, but he pulled away from me. He searched my face as we were nose to nose with each other. The pressure of his weight against me was satisfying but I wanted more. I tilted my head back against the wall and breathed.

Once my breathing evened out, I returned to look at him - his eyes never left me. He was told to wait, and wait he did.

"I should probably go home," I told him, I felt him release a breath and nodded solemnly. He placed me down on the ground, but I stumbled over my abandoned heels.

"I can walk you back if you would like," Oliver offered as he helped me steady myself.

"Yes please," I responded as I used his arm to gain balance while I replaced my heels. I could feel my heart still pounding away.

"Let's go find your brothers before we leave," he said, and I nodded in agreement. I was starting to fade.

Oliver wasn't quick to break what was left of our embrace, but when he did move, he leaned away and looked off the way we came.

"Well, it looks like they actually found us," Oliver said, his tone serious. I questioned him as I followed his gaze.

There at the corner of the barn stood both Darien and Jackson. At this distance, I couldn't tell their expressions, but I could feel them.

Fuck.

I let my touch on Oliver drop and he moved away from me as well. I could see Darien turn to Jackson so he could say something. Both of them stood straight and watchful of us.

Oliver offered me his arm and since I was still teetering a little, I took it. Together we walked towards them, their expressions becoming clearer. One was perplexed, the other smug.

"Oliver is going to walk me home tonight," I told them, then they wordlessly parted for us to leave. I didn't meet either of their eyes as we walked past.

Just before we were out of earshot, the two called in unison "Tomorrow,"

Fuck.

Tomorrow will now be filled with more questions for me than Darien at this point. I sighed at the thought.

Together, Oliver and I walked back to town in silence. Our arms were still linked, but I dared not cast a glance his way. Instead, I chewed on my bottom lip in thought.

How much did they see? Why were they outside? Why did I let this happen? What does this mean?

The questions swirled in my head as we walked.

Eventually, we arrived back at the shop. Oliver let my arm go and took a step away from me. I finally looked at him, his expression was soft if not remorseful, but there was a kind smile. His hands were in his pockets and he was avoiding looking at me directly. His hair was still tasseled and his skin flushed.

Most of the night, he was some shade of scarlet. I chuckled at the sight of him and he got a look of concern in his eyes.

"What?" There was a quake of fear in his voice.

"You blush a lot is all," I kept my tone soft.

He returned my smile and bit his lip a little in thought. He ran his hand through his hair, messing it up a little bit more, and he started to turn away.

The thought of him walking off without a word made my heart heavy, but I held it in. I pursed my lips as I reached for the door. Still watching him, I started to turn it, but Oliver stopped in his tracks.

Oliver whipped back around. He took three strides to me and grasped my upper arms. He quickly pecked me, this time quick and gentle. He was so soft, it was as if he wasn't even there.

"I am sorry, I couldn't just leave like that," Oliver spoke against my lips. Then he gave me another peck. This time there was no question in it, he lingered a bit longer this time as well.

He parted from me and then stepped off the porch. "Have a good night, Rox," Oliver said as he started to leave again, there was a new glimmer in his eyes.

I took a deep breath, "Anne," I called after him. he turned around on his heel and looked at me. His eyebrows raised in curiosity.

"Come again?" A toothy half-smile was flashed at me.

"It's Anne, if... if you want," I crossed my arms in front of my chest as I repeated myself. Oh, Gods. I couldn't watch him anymore as my face felt flushed and my body was tingling at what I just said.

"Well..." Oliver's tone was light, "Have a good night, Anne." This time, I left first - almost running inside.

Once I was in the shop, I pressed my back into the door. My hands were cool against my furiously blushing face.

I squeaked a curse to myself as I replayed the scene in my head.

What just happened?

[demaparbat-hp]

Oh, Aang, you're really in it now...

This is Zu—I mean, Jian Li and Katara's second meeting in the Kyoshi Warriors AU. The first proper one, anyway.

Once they get through a minor difference of opinion or two (“I can carry my own basket!” “Never said you—” “I'm not weak!” “I didn't—” “Just because I'm a girl doesn't mean—” “Would you listen for once, woman?!” ) they'll become nearly inseparable.

For now Jian Li will carry Katara's basket all the way to the Kyoshi Warriors' dojo and, once there, they'll mercilessly tease Sokka when they see him in uniform.

[kidovna]

can I pretty please ask for prom lesbyler? I'd give you my firstborn and everything

i will give it to you for free if no one ever threatens me with a child in this economy again

[fadeintoyou1993]

stebe moments <3 (for the steve to my robin, katya to my trixie, tai to my nat, charlie to my mac @ayoedebiris)

bonus:

[doriandrifting]

Rewatching season two and its wild how they literally have Owens explain anniversary affect and PTSD symptoms like irritability, lashing out, etc. and we see Joyce listening to Hopper about it and being really concerned about Will only to fast forward FOUR MINUTES to the dinner table with Mike’s family describing how he’s been acting out and chiding him for his behavior because the last year being tough isn’t going to cut it as an excuse anymore. They really drove that comparison home.

[ghost-proofbaby]

It's summer for you, winter for me. Warm me up with strawberry fluff! As always, my muse, your muse, the one and only, Eddie.

Midsummer's night, because I don't have a lot to inspire you with. I'm thinking something cute but weird? Maybe some human body softness where Eddie is a bit of a freak and we love him for it. And we're told our bodies are lovely, even when they're doing weird shit.

I lalalove youuuuu. xo Rhi

RHI!!!! <3 i adore you. thank you for this prompt - i had far too many ideas for it, but ended up on settling for this one, which coincidentally feels like the most subtle of them all? either way, it definitely turned out being the softest. give me an eddie munson who just wants to sniff me like a dog. this definitely got a bit long but i hope you enjoy, my dear <3

the smell of you

warnings: weirdos in love? idk. i have a skewed sense of what is actually weird i think. mentions of death and coffins jokingly. eddie 'manhandles' reader sort of. not edited.

wc: 2.2k+

come enjoy a sweet summer treat with me <3

“Eddie?”

The entire apartment is quiet – too quiet – as you drop your keys into the old crystal bowl on the counter. The clink resonates through the air, louder than the soft murmur of the stereo static you can hear from down the hall. 

“You dead?” you call out again, slipping off your running shoes and tossing down your headphones onto the counter as well now, “Do I need to call the coroner?” 

Your tone is lilted, teasing with airiness as you continue to wander deeper into the apartment and head straight for the room you know Eddie has to be in. Like the waves pulled by the moon, there’s an incessant string tied around one end of your soul that connects you to his, and you follow it all the way down the hallway. The bedroom door is wide open, and you can hear his mumbled yell of a response without clarity before you even cross the threshold. 

You wouldn’t have even needed him to verbally respond to find him in this tiny apartment. You two could get separated on the streets of a bustling city, of a buzzing New York sidewalk, and you still wouldn’t properly lose him. It’s more than just soul ties and his gravity that keeps you pulled to him. 

Something unspoken. Something homely. 

“Sorry, what was that?” you hum as you spy him face-down in the bed, pillow muting him by the mouthful, “Say it one more time, and this time not into the pillow.” 

When he finally properly turns over, he’s a vision. Sleep lines folded into his skin and a bit of drool in the corner of his mouth, eyes squinting in irritation not at you but the sunlight flooding in through the bedroom window. Messy hair, messy shirt, messy everything. A kind of mess you just want to collapse into currently, curling up in all that he is from the day’s exhaustion. 

He’d mentioned wanting to take a nap before you’d left for the gym. Something about the summer heat draining him, trailing off as he’d rambled about how he’d probably thrive as a vampire. 

“I said,” he huffs, sitting up, the frizz of his hair becoming a makeshift halo, “If you call the coroner, request the comfiest coffin possible.”

“Why do you need a comfy coffin if you’re already dead?” 

“You dare deny me of being buried in tempurpedic memory foam? In my hour of need?” 

You roll your eyes as you huff out a little laugh, forcing yourself to turn away from him long enough to strip out of your socks. But just as you reach down for the pieces of clothing, you catch sight of the source of that stereo static flooding the room. 

Your shared record player, spinning a blood red pressing of one of your more recent vinyl purchases. The album has been played through, but the player no longer had an automatic stop mechanism, probably from years of use. 

The center of the record is probably scratched, and Eddie knows it, from how sheepish he looks when you glance over your shoulder at him. 

“Speaking of death,” you walk over quickly, purposefully, before carefully lifting the needle and cutting the static finally, “Care to explain why you’re burning scratches into my Momento Mori vinyl?” 

“I’m sorry,” he quickly apologizes, nearly flinging himself off the bed as he scooches quickly to the end, clearly fully awake now, “I put it on and thought I’d just lay down for a quick second, but then the bed was so comfy, and I thought it wouldn’t hurt to take a quick nap, and then…” he trails off, looking up at you through his lashes with big eyes already pleading for forgiveness, “I’ll buy you a new one. Swear it.” 

It’s impossible to be mad at him when he’s looking like this, inhumanely soft and easily forgiven, “You’re lucky you’re cute, or you really would be dead.” 

He doesn’t respond with words, but instead the outstretch of his hands, fingers flexing as he beckons to you. The needle rests on its perch, the vinyl left behind to gather dust for a few extra moments, as you go straight to him. 

When his palms slip beneath your old t-shirt and meet your skin, they’re pleasantly warm. 

“You were right,” you admit as his knees spread, delegating even more room for you to stand in front of him as your hand wanders to cradle the side of his face, fingers tangling in sweaty curls from his rest. Your thumb mimics his on your own skin instinctively, tracing a large arch right up over his cheekbone, “It’s hot as balls outside.” 

“Told you so,” he murmurs, smiling softly in satisfaction as he leans lazily into your touch. 

“You did,” you agree quietly, half-entranced by his relaxed face, no sight of pride in the room currently. 

He resembles a cat as he continues to preen under your gentle hand, and you almost expect him to start purring right before you find the strength to pull away, removing his hands from where they'd wandered to your lower back. 

One swipe of his finger along your sweaty spine, and you’d remembered what your original intentions had been immediately upon getting home. 

“Wai- Where are you going?” he’s seemingly brought back down to Earth the moment he loses the pattern your thumb had been tracing, the press of your fingertips into his scalp. When he reaches back out to latch onto you again, you take a step back, “Get back here-”

“I need to shower,” you laugh, shaking your head and smacking his hands away as he continues to barter, “I’m all sweaty and smelly, let me go clean up and then we can nap togeth-” 

“You can shower after we nap,” he nearly whines, finally catching your shirt between his fingers and tugging, uncaring for if he stretches the fabric. A small price to pay to have you close to him, “C’mon, sweetheart. I know you’re just as exhausted as I am.” 

You swear you meant to take another step backwards, but somehow, you end up back between his knees, “Did you not hear me, Munson? I stink.”

“Good.” 

He doesn’t give you any time to react – in an instant, he’s throwing his face forward, burying it against your stomach as you let out a gasp and immediately try to pry him away with far too gentle of hands in his hair. 

“Eddie!”

If it were anyone else, you’d probably be mortified. But Eddie just takes a dramatic deep breath in, nose buried just shy of your belly button, and when his shoulders start to shake with muted laughter, you can’t stop the smile from breaking. Your fingers are still twisted in his hair, still pulling back in an attempt to get him away from you, but he’s resilient. 

And all your faux resistance is weak in comparison. Soon enough, you’re back to melting into him. 

Only once you’re relaxed once more, no sign of trying to pull away again any time soon as his hands once more evade the space beneath your shirt to wander up and down your sticky skin without a care in the world, does he lift his face away from you long enough to breathe and speak, “I’ll have you know – I love your stink.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious.” 

“You’re an idiot.” 

“I’m your idiot.” 

The game of banter is cut short when he goes back to pressing his nose into your clothes that surely can’t smell good. No amount of deodorant or perfume could erase that underlying stench of sweat. Hell, the shirt is still a bit moist from it all: from the walk to the gym, from your workout itself, from the walk home. It’d been through the ringer, and you’re back to tugging him away from you. 

“I refuse to believe you like how gross I smell right now,” you reinforce, eyes darting towards the bathroom connected to your master bedroom, “I promise I’ll be quick with the shower.” 

“Baby,” he fights back, wrapping his arms around you securely, no intention of losing this battle, “You remember that time we went to the fair, and you were complaining about how you were sweating, so I tried to lick your face?” 

Your nose scrunches quickly at the memory, “I do, unfortunately.”

“You really think I’d be willing to lick the sweat off your body but be afraid of you smelling a little bad while we cuddle?” his shoulders drop as he looks up at you, head tilted, almost as if amused with the conversation, “What kind of man do you take me for?” 

“The kind that gets off on annoying me.” 

His jaw drops, putting on a fake look of offense before he dramatically throws himself back onto the bed, laying flat as he makes a fist to mimic stabbing his chest, “You wound me.”

You’ve heard those words a thousand times in a hundred different ridiculous voices. You’ve seen this scene enough to have it mesmerized at this point, down to the over-exaggerated pout of his lips and the lingering of the fist against his sternum. 

You never grow tired of it. You never will. 

“Need me to kiss it better?” you joke as you prop a knee up on the bed, following the same script as always. 

And he hits his queue perfectly when he lifts his head eagerly at the expected response, wiggling his brows a bit. “Absolutely. Doctor’s orders, in fact.” 

“Great,” you see an opportunity, and take it, “I’ll get right to it, after my showe-” 

You don’t even get the final syllable of the word off your tongue before he’s clenching his thighs around your own, knees pressing hard before he wraps his legs the rest of the way around your waist to pull you in. A squeak of surprise leaves your lips as you begin to fall forward, but Eddie is quick to break the fall with ease. Catching you with his eager hands, maneuvering for you to half drop to the mattress while some of you still lands atop of him. 

He has you right where he wants you, turning his head to be face to face with you, noses nearly brushing, “Unfortunately, the doc said you have to kiss it better now, or else you’ll be comfy coffin shopping.” 

“A fatal wound?” you gasp, nearly mocking him. It doesn’t offend him – if anything, his boyish grin only grows wider, “First, I’m smelly-”

“Again, I like when you’re smelly.”

“-And then I inflict a fatal wound upon my lover? Oh, how dare I.”

Slowly, all your insecurity of how you currently smell is simply fading. The entire ordeal has become an art of childlike, whimsical jokes – and Eddie is an artist. A professional at the dance, locked and loaded with his incomparable skill set equipped for disarming you this way. The ability to make someone feel loved, imperfections and weirdness aside. 

He likes you, even when you claim you don’t smell your best. And you like him, even when his hair is tangled beyond recognition and one of his socks is half-hanging off his foot from a nap.

You like him when he’s embarrassing you in public, tongue chasing after you with the threat of licking your sweat away, and he likes you when all you can do in response is a weak palm to his chest (that isn’t even making an effort to push him away) as you giggle relentlessly. 

You like each other on the good days, the bad days, the weird days. 

Disarmed entirely, you don’t even notice when his face conveniently slots itself far too close to your armpit as you two scooch further up into the bed. You’re more occupied with the way your legs tangle up, toeing each other’s socks off properly as he slings a heavy arm across your torso. 

“We’re gonna have to wash the sheets,” you mumble, exhaustion catching up as the two of you finally settle. 

He hums absentmindedly, nuzzling into your skin a bit further as he makes himself comfortable. “And wash away your sweet, sweet stink? I don’t think so, sweetheart.” 

“Oh, fuck off,” you laugh, unbothered as your fingers start to trail up and down his back over the t-shirt, smoothing out wrinkles along the way, “I’m serious. We need to change them soon anyways, I think I got crumbs in the bed the other night with those crackers.” 

“Bury me in the crumbs of all your midnight snacks,” he almost slurs, clearly drifting back off. 

You snort in response, relaxing and letting your own eyes shut. Matching all your deep breaths with his own, a million different last words crossing your mind to whisper to the boy you’re sure is once again asleep. 

I love you.

I adore you. 

I would like to spend the rest of my life with you, if you’ll have me. 

And maybe some of those unspoken thoughts slip out without you realizing, because he squeezes you just a little bit tighter, presses his face just a little bit deeper into your skin as his scruff tickles you. 

The only actual thought you can know for certain that you say, though, is, “Do you think they actually make coffins with memory foam inside?” 

To your surprise, even despite the almost-snores that had been escaping him, he answers in a heartbeat. 

“Oh, definitely. We’ll order two.”

[myspacebrat]

𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐞

After riding around for what felt like hours while Steve’s fingers played idly between your thighs, he finds a secluded area that he’s positive is always deserted. You climb over the middle console into the backseat and Steve follows right behind you. He begins kissing your neck as the humming of music could be heard lulling through the speakers. He’d removed your panties almost as soon as you got in the car, setting them on his gear shift as if some kind of prize. His fingers move back between your plush, soaked thighs and this time he’s plunging two in, finding your g spot instantly. Your brain goes numb and breathy moans begin to fall from your lips, fogging up the car windows.

“Tight little cunt is so wet and ready for me, baby.” He whispers into your neck as his fingers move at an unrelenting pace. “Needy little thing, just sucking me right in like a greedy little slut.” He groans when you begin to tighten around him, your release already so close.

“Don’t come until I’m inside you, pretty baby.” He gives your neck one last kiss before he’s removing his fingers, making you whine from the emptiness. “Don’t worry, I’m gonna give you what you want.” He says, chuckling at your desperation.

“Please Stevie.” You beg, but before you know it, he’s already released his hard, aching cock from its confines and just as eager as you, he thrusts inside of you to the hilt. The stretch is delicious and painless from all of your dripping wetness that is now leaking onto the leather seats of his car.

“Oh fuck.” He whimpers as he hammers inside you, balls slapping against your asshole as heavy breathes and moans drown out the music.

“Steve, baby I’m gonna, oh my-” you mewl into his chest as you come, the stars that shine brightly above the car are no match for the ones that beam behind your eyes as your high enraptures your body and mind.

“Mmm, oh shit, I’m gonna fill this greedy little pussy up, she want that baby? She want me to fill her up?” Steve babbles as his cock begins to twitch inside of you.

“Yes, please fill me up, Stevie.” You groan as ropes of warm come shoot deep within your throbbing walls, that are now sore from the pounding you were just given.

“I love you, pretty girl.” Steve murmurs before placing a soft kiss on your lips and rubbing the tip of his nose sweetly against yours.

“Come on, let’s get you home before your parents kill me.” He teases, making his way out of the backseat. But suddenly he stops, his eyes falling onto the fogged up window. He brings his pointer finger up and writes the both of your initials before incasing them inside the perfect hand drawn heart. He shoots you a wink then steps out of the car, holding his hand out for you to follow.

You really couldn’t get enough of him or your late night drives.

[wasabidottie]

Since you asked... recently been thinking about being in a club or bar or something and you're just not into the guy hitting you up. Maybe he started getting creepy or maybe it's something different and you do that thing where you're like "There you are baby" and get close to Schlatt and stuff? I might not be explaining this great but there you go

Can i buy you a drink? | jschlatt

a/n: yesss thank you so much for this request !!! i love this trope :)) hope i did it justice

The bass of the music pulsed through the floor, vibrating up your legs as you stood near the bar. Neon lights flickered, illuminating the sea of people dancing under dim, colorful hues. The atmosphere was thick with the heat of too many bodies and the scent of spilled alcohol. You were nursing a drink, half-heartedly, more out of habit than enjoyment. You hadn't come here to get drunk or even dance—just a night out with friends who had long since disappeared into the crowd, leaving you at the bar.

That’s when he showed up.

You noticed him from the corner of your eye first. Leaning in closer than necessary, the strong scent of cologne mixed with something unidentifiable wafted toward you. He was good-looking, sure—slicked-back hair, crisp shirt unbuttoned a little too far down, exposing a chain you could bet was more for show than sentiment. But the way he looked at you, like you were something to be won, sent a chill up your spine.

He leaned in close, his voice low and smooth, dripping with intent. "You come here often?"

Classic. You smiled politely, taking a sip of your drink, hoping he’d get the hint. He didn’t.

"You know, you look like you could use some company. Someone to really show you a good time," he continued, his eyes scanning you in a way that made you feel exposed. The way he spoke—like this was some sort of game he was playing, and you were the prize at the end—turned your stomach.

You shifted, trying to subtly angle yourself away, but he didn’t let up. His hand slid onto the bar next to you, fingers tapping like he had all the time in the world to wait for you to cave.

"You’re too pretty to be here all alone," he said, his tone growing a little more insistent, like he could sense your discomfort and chose to ignore it. “What do you say I buy you a drink?”

You forced another tight smile, shaking your head. “No, thanks. I’m good.”

But he didn’t take the hint. He moved a step closer, his breath now warm against your ear. "C’mon, baby. Don’t be shy."

Your grip tightened on your glass. Every inch of you screamed to get away from this guy, but it was like he had some radar for women trying to escape him. He leaned in further, his shoulder brushing yours, trapping you between him and the bar. Your heart raced, not with excitement, but with the creeping anxiety of being cornered.

You scanned the room desperately for an escape. Your friends were nowhere in sight, and the crowd was too thick to easily slip away unnoticed. That’s when you saw him—a tall figure, standing a few feet away, hands in his pockets, scanning the room with disinterest. He wasn’t paying attention to you, at least not yet, but he looked like your only shot.

Without thinking, you acted.

“There you are, baby!” you called out, your voice louder than usual as you pushed off from the bar, practically throwing yourself into the stranger’s space.

The guy's eyebrows shot up in surprise as you grabbed his arm and pressed yourself into his side, looking up at him with the most convincing, overly affectionate smile you could muster. You clung to him, gripping the sleeve of his jacket as though you’d known him for years.

“Sorry I kept you waiting,” you added, your voice sweet but laced with an edge, your eyes darting nervously back toward the creep at the bar.

The stranger—Schlatt, as you'd come to know him later—looked down at you, his expression a mix of surprise and amusement. For a split second, you feared he might blow your cover, push you away, or worse, expose your little act for what it was. But then something clicked in his eyes, and his mouth curved into a smirk.

“There you are,” he said, playing along, his voice deep and rough around the edges. He slung an arm casually over your shoulders, pulling you in a little closer. “Thought you were gonna leave me hangin’.”

The creep’s face fell instantly, his bravado deflating like a balloon. He glanced between you and Schlatt, trying to gauge if this was real or not. You could almost see the calculations running through his mind, the gears turning as he tried to figure out if it was worth the effort to keep pushing.

Schlatt leaned down, his breath warm near your ear as he muttered low, so only you could hear, “You in trouble, sweetheart?”

You nodded, barely perceptibly, not wanting to break the act.

Schlatt straightened up, his expression hardening as he turned his gaze back to the creep. “Something I can help you with, buddy?”

The guy faltered, his confidence wavering. “Nah, man. Didn’t realize she was with you.”

“Yeah, well, now you know.” Schlatt’s voice was sharp, edged with something dangerous that made even you tense up. His arm tightened around your shoulders, the gesture protective without being overbearing.

The creep raised his hands in mock surrender, backing away with a fake smile. “All good, man. Didn’t mean to step on your toes.”

Schlatt didn’t respond, just watched with narrowed eyes as the guy slinked back into the crowd, finally losing interest. The tension in your shoulders slowly melted as the guy disappeared from sight.

Schlatt kept his arm around you for a moment longer, as if making sure the creep didn’t have any second thoughts about coming back. The warmth of his body next to yours was oddly reassuring, even though you were still on edge from the whole encounter. Slowly, you stepped away, exhaling in relief as you placed a bit of space between you.

"Thanks for that," you muttered, awkwardly tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "I didn’t mean to rope you into—"

He cut you off with a low chuckle, shaking his head. "Nah, don’t worry about it. You looked like you needed the assist."

You glanced back toward the bar where the guy had been, now completely gone. The knot in your stomach loosened, but there was still a tinge of unease lingering beneath your skin. You’d been out before, dealt with the usual drunk guys who didn’t understand boundaries, but this one had been different. Slimy. Like he enjoyed watching you squirm.

Schlatt took a step back, stuffing his hands into his pockets casually. He didn’t seem like the type to linger for long, but before he could say anything else, you blurted out, "Can I buy you a drink? You know, as a thank you?"

His eyebrows raised slightly, surprise flickering in his dark eyes before he smirked. "I’m not one to turn down free booze."

You smiled, grateful for the easy way he deflected any awkwardness. You turned back toward the bar, signaling the bartender before leaning against the counter, feeling Schlatt’s presence beside you.

"What’ll it be?" you asked, glancing up at him. He was taller than you expected, and up close, his broad shoulders and relaxed stance gave off the impression that nothing in the world could bother him.

"Whiskey. Neat."

Of course. You nodded to the bartender, ordering a whiskey for him and another drink for yourself. The bar was still busy, people pushing in on either side of you, but you felt a little more grounded now that the creep was gone and Schlatt was beside you. He didn’t say much, just observed the room with a quiet intensity, like he was always a step ahead of whatever was going on around him.

The bartender slid the drinks toward you, and you handed one to Schlatt. He took it with a nod, raising it slightly in thanks before taking a sip.

"So, do you make a habit of rescuing random girls from sleazeballs?" you asked, half-joking as you swirled the liquid in your own glass.

Schlatt chuckled, a low, rough sound that made the corners of your lips twitch upward. "Only the ones that look like they need it," he replied, glancing sideways at you. His gaze lingered for a beat longer than expected, and you couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes crinkled slightly at the edges when he smiled.

"Well, lucky me," you said, taking a sip of your drink. The alcohol burned down your throat, but it was a welcome distraction from the adrenaline still buzzing in your veins.

Schlatt looked around the club, his gaze sweeping over the crowd, then back at you. "You here with friends?"

You nodded. "Yeah, they kinda… disappeared into the dance floor about an hour ago." You laughed a little, though it sounded more tired than you intended. "They’re probably having a good time. I was just trying to avoid getting stuck out there."

He grinned. "Not much of a dancer?"

You shook your head. "Not when it’s this packed. And not when people like that guy are around."

Schlatt shrugged, taking another sip of his drink. "Can’t blame you. Most of these places are just a breeding ground for idiots."

"Yeah, tell me about it."

For a moment, you just stood there, the music pounding in the background as you shared an easy silence. Schlatt didn’t seem to be in any hurry to leave, and for some reason, that made you feel oddly comfortable. There was something about his laid-back demeanor, the way he didn’t push for conversation but also didn’t make you feel like you needed to fill the silence, that kept you grounded.

"By the way," you said after a beat, "I never caught your name—"

"Schlatt," he interrupted, holding out his hand. His grip was firm, warm against your palm.

You smiled, offering your name in return. “Nice to meet you… Schlatt.”

“Likewise,” he said, his tone slightly teasing. “Though you could’ve just called me your boyfriend instead of dragging me into the whole ‘baby’ bit. Bit over the top, don’t you think?”

You cringed, laughing lightly. “Yeah, that was… spur of the moment. Desperate times.”

He snorted. “Could’ve fooled me. You sold it pretty well.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, shaking your head. “Well, thanks for playing along.”

Schlatt shrugged, the smirk never leaving his face as he took another sip of his whiskey. "Eh, wasn’t a bad gig. Could do worse than having a pretty girl cling to me for a bit."

Your face warmed at the offhand compliment, but you played it cool, trying not to give him the satisfaction of seeing you flustered. "Pretty sure you saved me more than I saved myself"

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening. "Don’t sell yourself short. You pulled that off like a pro."

You chuckled, but before you could respond, the music shifted to a slower, bass-heavy beat. The crowd around you swayed, bodies pressing even closer together as people paired off for the slower tempo. You watched them for a moment, suddenly hyper-aware of how close Schlatt was standing.

"You, uh, wanna get out of here?" you asked, realizing how awkward it sounded the moment it left your mouth. "I mean, not like that—just, the crowd’s getting a bit much, and—"

Schlatt raised a hand, cutting off your rambling. "Relax. I know what you mean." He tilted his head toward the door. "Let’s bounce. This place is a shitshow anyway."

You nodded in agreement, grateful for the escape route. The two of you made your way through the crowd, navigating around groups of people too caught up in their own nights to notice anything else. The cool night air hit you as soon as you stepped outside, a welcome relief from the heat and noise inside the club.

Schlatt stuffed his hands back into his pockets, glancing over at you. "You good? Or do you need another hero act?"

You laughed, feeling more relaxed now that you were out of the chaotic environment. "I think I can manage from here. But I’ll keep you on speed dial just in case."

He snorted, kicking at a stray pebble on the sidewalk. "Sure thing, sweetheart. Anytime."

The street was quieter, the neon signs reflecting off the pavement as cars drove by lazily. You turned to him, feeling a sudden urge to prolong the conversation, even though you weren’t quite sure why. "So, Schlatt… what brings you to places like that?"

He gave you a sidelong glance, the corner of his mouth twitching. "What, you think I don’t seem like the club type?"

You shrugged, smiling. "Maybe more of a dive bar type."

"Spot on," he said, amusement in his voice. "Honestly, I was just killing time. Buddy bailed on me last minute, and I figured I’d check it out. But not my scene. Yours?"

"Definitely not," you replied, shaking your head. "I’m more of a stay at home with a good book type."

He chuckled. "Didn’t peg you for a bookworm."

"Yeah, well, you didn’t exactly strike me as the white knight type, but here we are."

Schlatt laughed, a deep, genuine sound that caught you off guard. "Touché."

The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable, but you could feel the night winding down. The adrenaline from earlier had worn off, leaving you with a strange mix of exhaustion and curiosity. You didn’t want the conversation to end just yet, but you also didn’t want to seem desperate for his company.

"So," Schlatt said, breaking the silence as he rocked back on his heels. "You heading home?"

You nodded, feeling the weight of the evening settle on your shoulders. "Yeah. It’s getting late."

He glanced down the street, then back at you. "You want me to walk you? Or… you good?"

For a moment, you considered brushing off the offer, but there was something about the way he asked—like he actually gave a damn, even if he wasn’t showing it outright. You hesitated before smiling softly. "Actually… I wouldn’t mind the company."

Schlatt’s smirk softened into something more genuine. "Alright, then. Let’s go."

[cherbearsz]

fanart i drew of mike wheeler, will byers, and el hopper dying in a glue trap

[eclecticcrafting]

A Stranger's Offer - Part 3

Description:

Roxanne Stone, a Magi woman, has never left her hometown of Kore. Feeling trapped and wanting to look for something better than what Kore could offer, she starts to seek a way out.

Oliver Tull comes from the big city of Dorath, having left after his sister's death to become a doctor in the small town of Kore.

As Oliver and Roxanne start dancing along the lines of romance, Oliver needs to go back to Dorath for a family affair. Promising to return, Oliver leaves for Dorath. In his absence, Roxanne is offered an opportunity to leave her small town for an adventure.

A mysterious old man looks to recruit adventures to locate and obtain the Three Objects of Power, Roxanne quickly volunteers and is joined by her lifelong best friend, Azmi, and Oliver's clinic clerk, Petra. When Oliver catches wind of the journey, he comes along for the ride for himself.

The first Object of Power is located, but with it comes some serious family secrets for Roxanne.

Part One

Part Two

Brotherly Conversation - Oliver's POV

Length: 1590 words

With jaw and fist clenched tight, I sucked in a breath and flicked the light switch on. The gaslights bloomed to life, revealing my intruders.

At the small table sat Jackson and Darien. I slowly let out an uneasy breath. My guard wasn't relaxed as I looked over the two of them in my home. They may be some of the politer people in town, but that does not mean they aren't protective brothers. I have treated a few people in my clinic that have gotten into scraps with them.

"How can I help you two?" I said. I set my feet shoulder-width apart and right foot forward. I kept my hands neutral but up, ready to move.

"Relax, Doc." Darien waved his hand. Both of them were easy in posture at the table. Jackson, sitting sideways at the table, had legs kicked out in front of him and hands behind his head. Darien, had his head propped up against his hand and with his limbs spread this way and that.

"I am glad to see that you two have made yourselves comfortable," I attempted to keep my tone light, but my stance not changing.

"Why does no one appreciate dramatic flare anymore?" Jackson turned to Darien, who lazily returned the expression.

"I told you, knocking on the door when he got back would be more effective," Darien shrugged, and Jackson sucked his teeth at him.

"Anyway," Jackson said as they both returned their attention to me. "We just wanted to pay you a visit, returning the kindness you paid Rox by walking her home."

"Oh?" I said I felt almost all my muscles tense.

"Pull up a seat, Doc." Jackson invited me to the table. Darien looked around the room for a moment, finding an unattended chair. He curled in his fingers in a beckoning motion and the chair squeaked across the wooden floor as it dragged itself to the table.

"Sorry about the floors," Darien apologized as he dusted the seat and then invited me to it.

The two stared at me as I slowly made my way to the table. When I sat with them, we were almost elbow to elbow. Jackson gathered the paperwork sprawled across the table and stacked it on the side flush with the wall.

"Doc, you need a better system," Jackson said as he patted the stack of papers that bounced in response.

"I don't believe this visit was out of the kindness of your hearts ?" I said, trying to bring Jackson back to why he was sitting, uninvited, at my table at almost one in the morning.

"Would you believe that it is?" Darien smiled, he seemed slower than he normally is, relaxed and at ease. Darien, though, was never the brother I was very concerned about, he was almost always a gentleman and a scholar.

With a furrowed brow, I looked at Darien, his green eyes staring at me through his lashes. I felt my face drop into a stern look.

"What he means is, we wanted to talk to you about Rox," Jackson chimed in, his face a bit flushed from drinking tonight, his blond hair was freshly pushed back from his face and his brown eyes were just as relaxed as Darien's.

"What about Anne?" I said

"Anne?" Jackson perked up, "Did you hear that D? Anne?" Jackson laughed. I wasn't sure if this was a good or bad thing just yet.

"When did she make that change?" Darien asked his expression was softened even more so with a half-smile.

"Just now, when I walked her home," I admitted and both of them nodded.

"Well the thing about Anne, is that she falls too easily. The kicker is, she has been burned many times," Jackson's tone got serious, "We just wanted to let you know that you probably did nothing wrong if she backs off for a bit."

"What?" My forehead wrinkled a little from Jackson's comment.

"It's true," Darien nodded. "She tends to be a little... hot and cold. We have been rooting for you for some time now, but we worry that Roxanne may get up in her head about it."

"Rooting for me? I didn't realize I was a horse in this race," I laughed stiffly.

"Of course, we have been," Jackson smacked his knuckles on the table as he spoke with his hands, "You and Anne get along well, you get along with our family well, and most importantly you have never given her the reminder that she is different."

I didn't say a word.

"Anne has dated here and there in town, and most of the men, and some of the women frankly, that she has seen have either been fascinated with her, or our, power, the shop, or simply wanted her to become a housewife."

The thought of Roxanne with an apron on running about a home with a feather duster crossed my mind. I laughed wholeheartedly at the idea. Jackson and Darien have me a moment to gather myself, and I apologized as I took a breath.

"Most Magi women are seen as marvels and coveted diamonds. Magi men are seen as stoic and not to be trifled with. Magi don't tend to go towards outside interests due to how we are usually treated," Darien rambled,

"Here in Kore that isn't much of an option," I clicked together.

"Exactly," Jackson nodded, "If Anne kept in 'common convention' that would mean her options are limited to two."

"Azmi and the Count's Magi," I said as I remembered Azmi tonight. He had been gentle with Roxanne but a bit possessive. He was polite with me, though I would say his expressions would be reserved for entitled customers.

"Azmi is one of our own, but he is an interesting character in his own right but she has felt a sense of.... unspoken loyalty?" Jackson looked to Darien who nodded in response, "to him. They grew up together, it's the cliche that we all know."

"Then there is Kahlkeeriz," Darien wrinkled his nose at the Magi in the Count's court.

"Hard pass," Jackson ran his hand over his face.

I have not met Kahlkeeriz, or at least not that I remember, but I have heard the rumors - Long brown hair that was kept in a loose braid that was clasped in silver bands. His arrogance exceeded his height, and his long face was almost always scowling. I have no idea how accurate any of this description is, but it never sounded like I was missing much.

"So, essentially, we wanted to let you know that we are on your side, but everything is going to be up to Anne now. Most likely she is going to be freaking out tomorrow if she isn't tonight." Jackson said.

I thought back to how I left her, she was flustered and she ran back into the shop so quickly the bell almost didn't ring.

"Is there anything I can do?" I asked, my hands clasped together on the table now.

"Give her some time, maybe some space," Jackson listed.

"Don't overwhelm her right away," Darien added.

"Maybe come by the shop for a minute or two tomorrow, don't ask for her directly, just make your presence known,"

"Or maybe come the day after?"

"no gifts"

"don't be offended if she doesn't see you, or if she takes off when you visit,"

The two of them were ping-ponging their advice off of each other. Their tones were lowering, obvious exhaustion in their faces. Darien's love-struck expression had faded to attempted concentration as he was participating in the conversation. He had bobbed his head a couple of times while at the table, and Jackson was also starting to fade some.

I let out a big yawn I had been trying to hold in, my eyes watered with the exhalation. Darien and Jackson also followed suit.

"Jack, I think it is time," Darien said as he stood up and stretched.

"Yeah," Jackson stood up as well in response, "We hope to see you around again, Oliver." Jackson gave a firm pat on my back and the two of them saw themselves out.

I relaxed in the chair, and a thought crossed my mind. "WAIT!" I yelled, I turned and the two had reached the stairs. They looked back at me.

"What magic trick did you two do to even get in here? The door was locked," I asked. I could imagine them seeping through a wall or scaling the side like geckos, but I needed to know what they did for this kind of invasion of privacy.

"D was going to pick the deadbolt, but you left the window downstairs unlocked," Jackson said and the two of them continued to leave.

I smacked my hand against my face and dragged it across my skin as I groaned a little. I left the third chair at the table and walked to the single bedroom.

It was small, with a double bed in the middle of the room. I took off my shirt the rest of the way and flopped face down into bed. I lay there for a moment, my thoughts started running over the conversation with Jackson and Darien. Then my mind slipped back into the memory of tonight: watching Roxanne glide across the dance floor and following after her. Her green eyes glittered in the lights.

Next, my mind shifted to the feel of her pressed up against me as she was pinned against the wall. The warmth, the curves, the way her legs squeezed.

"Oh no you don't," I muttered to myself as I wormed my way under the covers and tossed myself to the side.

Before I fell asleep, my mind kept drifting back to her and the way she felt. I couldn't shake it, I wanted to recreate it, I wanted more.

[gayofthefae]

I've been seeing people lately say Will and El being close is fanon but it's literally not. They were each other's only friends in Cali because they wouldn't have seen Jonathan much in school and had no other friends. They do what writers do, which is small but specific lines when you have minimal screentime to establish this. That's what 4x01 was FOR.

But yes. They aren't each other's #1 in the world, I'd say. Because they're close like SIBLINGS. They fight, in a petty, stupid way. They cheer each other on but they make little comments like "Will has not". But they also fix things together and go to work parties for their mom and eat breakfast and dinner together every morning.

Minimal screentime is not the same as fanon. They're close like siblings.

They lived together every day with no other friends for minimum six months. To claim anything else came from that is both illogical and a disregard of season 4 episode 1, which has their Cali screentime completely dedicated to establishing them with each other. I thought we were all for every inclusion being purposeful and meaning something?

I honestly think people just aren't used to getting wishes granted but I must comfort you, this is extrapolation, which is very different from fanon, though understandably confusable. We drew from the text what they gave us, we didn't headcanon where there were gaps.

All they do the entire opening episode of season 4 is love each other.

[imthursdaysyme]

Steddie and the forbidden cigarette

[morganbritton132]

Gareth is sharing a hotel room with Eddie while they’re in Vegas because instead of letting their manager book their hotel, Eddie did it and he fucked it up. It’s fine. They have two beds (more than Jeff and Grant can say) and a nice view, but now.

Now, Gareth is posting a Tiktok really late at night. He’s in his bed. Eddie’s in his own bed. Steve is there and he is snoring so loud.

The video is dark and you can just barely make out Gareth’s tired expression but you hear when he throws a pillow at the other two. Steve‘s snoring cuts off abruptly and Eddie makes a startled sound.

Gareth gets one moment of peace before Steve says “did you hit me?” Eddie’s like, “why would I hit you?” and then they’re bickering. There’s some rustling, a sigh, and then the sound of a kiss, and another kiss, and another, and…

“I will commit a double homicide.”

There’s silence again and then Eddie says, “…God, is that you?”

Steve laughs so hard he snorts.

<- Last Post | Next Post ->

[greenfiend]

Now that I’m pretty convinced that Mike isn’t the bad guy because he has been attempting to reach out to Will this whole time but Will has been pulling away from him and self-sabotaging by inventing things to push Mike away because he’s scared… I don’t know if I want this rando guy love interest for Will.

[nav-i-nav]

@the-worm-machine hello ^^)/

[estrellami-1]

If I Should Stay

Part 1 | . . . | Part 34 | Part 35 | Part 36

Eddie’s heart thumps oddly once again, this time because Steve had used his name. He’d already become used to Eds. He ignores it and spreads his hands. “I’m willing to accept whatever you’ll give me,” he says quietly. “I’m still groveling, here, I’m not exactly in a position to be making demands.”

Steve smiles. It doesn’t reach his eyes, and Eddie hates it. “That’s the thing, though. It’s complicated. I don’t know how to define it.”

Eddie hums. “We’re slightly to the left of best friends.”

Steve snickers. “That’s pretty spot-on, actually.”

Eddie shrugs and grins, feeling oddly proud of himself for figuring it out and making Steve smile.

They stand in silence for a minute until Alli pops her head out of the kitchen. “Are you two gonna kiss again? Or is now a good time to offer food?”

Steve snorts and pitches forward to rest his forehead against Eddie’s shoulder. “Al, you’re awful.”

“You love me,” she responds immediately, grinning at Eddie.

Eddie grins back and pokes at Steve’s arm. “She’s offering us food, Stevie, I’m inclined to say yes.”

Steve chuckles before leaning back to smile at Eddie. “Yeah, alright,” he decides, “I could eat.”

Eddie reaches out, links their hands, silently offers Steve an out.

He doesn’t take it, instead grips Eddie’s hand more surely, and something in Eddie’s chest settles.

They walk into the kitchen, hand-in-hand, and Steve grins and shakes his head when Alli starts cooing at them. “Yeah, okay,” he says, then, seemingly out of nowhere, “Hey, you should invite Cassidy over soon.”

Eddie looks between the siblings as they have a silent conversation mostly consisting of eyebrows and head tilts that ends with Steve grinning and Alli shaking her head, trying to hide a smile. “So,” Steve says, “what did you make?”

Alli chuckles and hops up backwards onto the counter by the stove. “Mac and cheese.”

“Ooh,” Steve says, instantly intrigued. He lets go of Eddie’s hand to peer into the pot. “With the good cheese?”

“With the good cheese,” Alli agrees.

Steve whirls around to grin at Eddie. “You’re gonna love this,” he says, “Alli makes the best mac and cheese.”

Eddie grins. “I dunno, Stevie, I think my uncle’s boxed mac might have her beat.”

Steve laughs, shaking his head as he gets three bowls out. He tilts his head towards a drawer. “There’s forks in there, can you grab some?”

Eddie does so, and just as they’re finishing serving themselves, someone opens the front door.

“Steve?” A voice calls. “You home?”

Steve sighs and puts his bowl down. “The little shit,” he mutters, moving out into the living room. “Dustin, what are you doing here?”

The answer is too quiet for Eddie to hear, so he eats his food and eyes Steve’s bowl. Alli laughs at him. “Don’t even think about it,” she says seriously, “Steve’s fought me for less.” Eddie gives her his best innocent who, me? look, and she grins at him. “Oh, you’re gonna be trouble. I like you.”

His grin turns smaller, shyer. “Thank you for not kicking my ass on sight, earlier,” he murmurs.

She grins and nudges his shoulder with her fist. “Steve’s tough. He doesn’t need me to protect him.”

“Maybe,” Eddie says, “but it’s still nice to have someone in your corner.”

“Oh,” she murmurs suddenly. “I forgot.”

Eddie’s brow furrows. “Forgot what?”

“The stories. ‘Bout why you’re here, in Forest Hills, ‘stead of wherever he is.”

She says he in a way that Eddie knows she knows exactly what’s meant by those two little letters. He swallows a lump. “Yeah,” he murmurs back. “‘S why I know.”

She smiles at him. “Your… uncle, right?”

Eddie smiles back. “Yeah. Wayne. He’s… he’s pretty great.”

Alli rests a hip on the counter. “Tell me about him?”

Stomach full of food, safe and warm and happy in this house, with the sound of his maybe-boyfriend scolding his pseudo-younger brother in the other room, Eddie grins and hops up onto the counter. “Gladly.”

Towards the end of his story, Steve comes huffing into the kitchen, making a beeline for the phone. He punches a number in and waits. “Hi, Mrs. Buckley,” he says politely. “Is Robin home?” He listens for a moment, says, “Okay, thank you,” and hangs up, turning to Eddie. “What’s your number?”

Eddie blinks before grinning, and Steve good-naturedly rolls his eyes. “Not like that, you ass,” he chuckles. Eddie relents and rattles off the numbers, and Steve punches those in before waiting again. “Hi, Mr. Munson,” Steve says. Eddie mouths the words and makes a face, and Alli snorts at him. “Is Robin there still?” A pause, then, “Ah,” as his cheeks pinken. “Yes, sir. He did.” Another few seconds later, “Hey. The little shit found Dart.” He sighs and runs his hand through his hair. “That’s the thing, though, is it did help. He fuckin’ domesticated the thing.” A laugh, then, “well I’m not gonna tell him.” A squawk, “I am not his-” he cuts off abruptly and pulls the phone from his ear to frown at it. “She hung up on me!”

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