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featherandferns · 3 months

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daylight - five

jj maybank x fem!reader | part 5 of the daylight series | read part 4 here

content warnings: sexual content (f receiving); alcohol

word count: 3k.

blurb: after avoiding JJ for a week, the two of you end up trapped together in the Chateau during a storm.

Whilst Mimsy’s advice was golden, you promptly ignored it. Avoided JJ like the plague. Bailed on nearly every Pogue meeting: met with the group one-on-one instead. He’d texted you a few times, checking if you were okay, asking if you were sick, offering to come around, apologising for the other night. You rarely replied, and if you did they were simple answers that left no room for further questions. I’m fine. Not sick, don’t worry. Just been busy. It's all good, I forgot all about it!

But you hadn’t.

That one fleeting touch of JJ’s hand on your chest had replayed in your mind like you were some budding virgin who had never been touched by another human before in your life. It was truly pathetic. The porn that got your body burning was the thing that a nun would gloss over without pause. You loathe yourself.

It’s stupid, really. You’d decided that maybe Mimsy was right. Maybe it was time to stop punishing yourself for Tyler, for the damage he inflicted. Maybe it was time to remember that all people are different people, and the acts of one careless man doesn’t equal the acts of another. But then you thought about it, really thought about it, and the thought of being so open like that with another person terrified you. Made you sick. Love was bad but heartbreak was worse, and you had a habit of falling hard and fast. If JJ wanted casual, you couldn’t do that. You felt too much for him already. Sleeping with him would only make it worse. But if JJ wanted serious, you couldn’t do that either. And so, you were at a stalemate.

“Can’t I just give you it tomorrow?” you ask Kiara over the phone.

“No! Cause you’ll quote-unquote ‘forget’ and go another week with it!”

“It’s a good camera!”

“Yes, that’s why I want it back,” Kiara laughs.

Sighing, you smile. “Fine. I’ll drop it at the Chateau, though. That hurricane’s getting close and I don’t wanna get caught out near Figure Eight.”

“Alright, that works for me,” Kie agrees. “You talk to JJ yet?”

“Sure,” you lie.

She sighs. “What is going on with you two? I know he can be a dumbass; did he yell at you or something?”

After knowing JJ for close to two months, you had seen his temper. It was short and explosive, and at times, scary. But he came down regretful for the things he did and said, and you’d learnt just like the others to understand it.

“No, he didn’t yell. It’s nothing. We’re fine, really,” you tell her.

Kie hums and you know she isn’t convinced. Grabbing your shoes, you say, “look, I’ll head to the Chateau now before the storm hits and leave your camera for you.”

“Icon. Thank you!”

“Talk soon,” you say before hanging up.

With Kie’s camera in your trademark backpack, you head downstairs. Leaving a note on the kitchen for your parents and pulling a thin raincoat over your sweats and crop-tee, you penny board to the Chateau. The journey is familiar now, the same way heading to and from the local store in Vancouver was less than a year ago. As you walk up, you find the Twinkie missing.

“John B? You home?” you call as you pass through the door. Nobody answers.

You head to the table and place Kiara’s camera down, then send a photo to her as proof. Before you make the journey back home, errand now complete, you use the bathroom and raid the cupboard for a snack. As you pull back the wrapper on a month-out-of-date clif bar, the sky grumbles menacingly. You stare up at the ceiling when it does as if it might be to blame. Suddenly, everything is dark. Grey clouds loom overhead and cast the world in gloom. More thunder follows, and the distant flash that you catch through the window hints of lightning. You hadn’t managed to skip the storm.

“Shit.”

Through the tantrum of nature, the high-pitched humming of a motor passes through. You venture to the front door of the Chateau, wondering whether John B has come back. When JJ rounds the corner, your stomach drops like a black bear has wandered into sight. The rain has started now, pelting hard and heavy pellets, and JJ cusses as he rushes up the steps. He nearly jumps out of his skin when he finally looks up, now in the Chateau.

“Jesus Christ!”

“Sorry.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he repeats, perhaps a little dramatic.

You roll your eyes and tug your raincoat off over your head. It’s not like you’re going anywhere anytime soon: mother nature had decided so. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“Where the fuck have you been?” JJ asks, frowning at you.

You shrug. “At home.”

“Oh. Yeah, duh, how dumb of me,” JJ sarcastically mumbles. You head into the kitchen for a soda and JJ is hot on your trail. “I’ve been hitting you up for like a week and you’ve been ignoring me.”

“I replied to you.”

“Yeah with like two word responses. I’ve heard dogs talk more,” JJ fires back.

Once your hand is safely removed from the fridge, JJ slams it shut. It catches your attention; forces you to look up at his face. “It’s about what happened in the van, isn’t it?”

“JJ, grow up,” you say.

“That’s not a no.”

“Because it’s a stupid question,” you reply. “I’m not twelve years old, JJ.”

“Don’t need to tell me that,” he mumbles. You pass him by, heading for the sofa whilst JJ stands in the kitchen and stares at you. “So that’s that?”

“I guess,” you say with a shrug, sipping your soda.

He stares some more and then scoffs. You know he’s annoyed. His jaw clenches and he glances off to the hallway of the cabin. You take his distraction to remind yourself of his body. Of how fucking gorgeous he is.

“What? What’s wrong?” you can’t help but ask.

JJ shakes his head. He purses his lips, calms himself, and looks to you. “You hurt my feelings.”

On the surface, it sounds like an immature statement. The sort of thing a child would say to another on the playing field, after shunning them out of an imaginary game. But not now, not here. You knew more than most how much hurt feelings can wound.

“I’m sorry,” you apologise, and you hope it sounds as genuine as it is.

JJ contemplates before nodding. He heads over to you and sits beside you on the sofa. Kicks his feet up on a dining chair as he reclines into the sofa.

“Do you forgive me?”

“I will if you give me a sip of your drink,” he mumbles. You hand him the can and watch him begin to drink. Your face contorts with horror as JJ backwashes into the can, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“JJ! Ew!”

He splutters a laugh as you snatch your drink back. It’s spoiled now. You glare at him and ditch it on the floor. Smack his shoulder jovially.

“Dumbass.”

The storm reigns on and for a while the two of you sit side by side listening to its petrifying symphony. Lightning flashes through the windows and illuminates the cabin for a fraction of a second, time and time again. It feels nice being in JJ’s company again. He calms you somehow, even in silence. Maybe it’s his smell, but if you admit that, you may sound a little insane or creepy. But the calm is only momentary. Soon you’re losing yourself to your thoughts, given too much freedom with the quiet. Thoughts of him. Thoughts which turn to glances, which turn to longing and yearning and…

“Wanna play a board game?” you blurt out.

JJ quirks a brow at you, hitting his vape. “Sure. What game?”

You get up and head to the rickety wooden shelves, inspecting the games John B has. Most look thrifted. Jenga, Twister, Monopoly…

“Trivial Pursuit?”

JJ sniggers. “I don’t think either of us are smart enough for Trivial Pursuit.”

A hand slowly rises to your chest in mock offence. “Ouch.”

You slide the game out as JJ gets up and transforms the sofa into a pullout. The power is holding up good enough so far, in the summer storm turned hurricane. Taking a blanket, you cosy up on the couch and set up the game. JJ takes the time to retrieve a beer. You each take a game piece and fall into the game. It only takes about five rounds for JJ to be proven right: trivia was neither of your strong suits.

You grab a card from the pile, reading out the trivia question. “What distance is the earth to the sun?”

JJ’s face contorts in bewilderment. “What kind of dumbass question is that?”

“A trivia one,” you say, watching him with a smile.

“I don’t fucking know. A hundred?”

“A hundred what?”

“Miles?”

You blink at him. “A hundred miles? From our planet to a huge ball of gas?”

“Who’s actually measured it, that’s what I want to know,” JJ says.

“Scientists.”

“But like how?”

“I don’t know,” you laugh, leaning back on the sofa. “With science, I guess. Answer the question.”

“‘With science’. ‘With science’?”

“Shut up.”

“Didn’t know I was in the presence of a genius,” JJ announces.

You roll your eyes and prod him with your toe through your blanket, careful not to knock over the pile of trivia cards. “Answer!”

“This game is dumb. Why couldn’t we just play strip poker?”

“Jesus Christ – answer the question!”

“I did! One-hundred miles!”

“That’s such a dumb guess!” you laugh, placing the card at the bottom of the pile.

“Was it right?”

“No!”

By now you’re in hysterics, shaking your head. JJ’s watching you, sniggering away. He takes another swig of his beer and offers the bottle to you. You have a sip. JJ’s still watching you. Swallowing, you quirk a brow.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“No, what is it? Is there something on my face?”

“No, no,” JJ says, stopping your wiping of your cheeks. “You’re just really fucking pretty.”

Your body chills like a winter breeze hit. Smiling bashfully, you glance down. “Oh. Thank you.”

“Course,” JJ replies. He takes the bottle back gently and has another sip. Clearing his throat, he grabs another trivia card. “Alright, uh, what we got here? Who wrote the novel ‘Pride and Prejudice’?”

“Jane Austen,” you reply.

“Yep,” he says, returning the card to the pile.

And just like that, the moment has passed, and you’re only slightly surprised to realise how much you wished it hadn’t.

You wordlessly take another ‘cheese piece’ for your counter. JJ takes the dice and rolls and as you wait for them to land, everything suddenly goes pitch black. You let out a screech as it does.

“Oh shit,” you hear JJ say.

“What happened?” you ask, though the answer is obvious.

“Power went out,” JJ says. “Shit.”

You feel the pull out move and you flail a hand out, grabbing his t-shirt with your fist. “Don’t go.”

“I’m just gonna try and find some candles or a flashlight or something.”

“Wait, can you just…Can you stay until my eyes adjust, at least?”

“Yeah. Yeah, course.”

JJ settles back into his spot. There’s the clink of his beer bottle carefully finding place on the floor. His hand gently pats around before landing on your leg.

“You’re shaking.”

“I don’t like the dark,” you tell him. You’re waiting for him to laugh but he doesn’t. Instead, he coaxes you closer to him.

“Come here.”

You comply. Shuffle until you can feel JJ’s body pressed against yours. You slowly, nervously lower your head onto his upper chest. The sensation of his chest rising and falling evenly calms your panic. You’d never grown out of your fear of the dark. It was stupid, something Tyler used to tease you for, but you couldn’t help it. Even still, you slept with some form of nightlight. JJ’s fingers begin to stroke the back of your hand. And just as his accidentally grope of your tit had, his barely-there touch turns you on.

But this time you don’t flinch away. Don’t panic and startle and spiral.

Maybe it’s the black out serving as some sort of safety net, or the storm making you feel disconnected from the world, or maybe just the effect of JJ in general, but you find yourself moving to face him. At least, what you assume is him. Eyes slowly adjusting, you can make out the vague silhouette of his face. Lord knows you’ve stared at him enough times to make good guess work of where his lips are. You lean forward so slow, you can convince yourself you’re not at all.

Your lips press against his lower lip tentatively. Testing the waters.

This close, you can hear when JJ’s breath catches in his throat.

You wait for JJ's next move.

JJ’s hand lands on the back of your head, returning your lips to his frantically. It’s messy and sloppy as the two of you kiss. Teeth and lips and hands, which caress down your body, grabbing greedily at your skin, landing on your ass to lift you into his lap. He’s getting harder and harder with each kiss, each brush of your tongues. You gasp a moan against his lips. Leaning back for air, swishing your hair from off your face and shoulders, you finally get to see how it feels to have your hands around his neck. Plant your fingers there, one by one,. JJ’s panting, his hands restlessly tracing your body. Reconnecting your lips with his, he mumbles against them. One word.

“Yes.”

His grip is tenderly mean in your hair as he pries you away to only plant kisses down your neck. Maybe he has a fascination with yours just as you do with his…JJ’s cold hands thrill your body as they slip under your shirt. Blunt finger nails rake soothingly against your back, juxtaposing the assault on your throat that has you whining and gasping. Fuck, you forgot how good this is. How good it feels to have another person pressed up against you. Touching you. You instinctively rock against his crotch. JJ groans, head dropping onto your shoulder. His fingernails press harder and it makes you grin. Leaning down to his earlobe, you kitten lick the skin just below. You feel him shudder under you. You tease your teeth against the lobe before gently catching it between your teeth. JJ lets out a moan.

“You like that?” you whisper into his ear.

“Yes,” he mumbles. You let out a gasp when he tugs at your hair once more, pulling you to face him. Now you can make out his eyes. They’re hooded. Crinkled like they do when he smiles. “You like being in control or something?”

“Or something…” you reply, finding your own smile.

“Just like I said,” JJ says, eyes flitting down to your lips. “Exactly my type.”

His hands slide down from your ass to the back of your quads, and he practically tosses you onto your back. You land just shy of the game board. Can hear the cards and game pieces scatter. JJ unconcernedly brushes it away, making the two of you laugh, breathless. Then his lips are back on yours, figure looming over you, and you let your hands venture up along his body. His gaping t-shirt grants you expanse of his skin. It’s soft under your touch, ripples from it, rises and falls with his breathes. JJ pushes your shirt up and kisses down your sternum, down your chest, towards your crotch. And now, without him desperately close, despite his attention to your body, you feel lost. In the pitch black, you can confuse JJ with someone else.

Tyler.

No, no, it’s not. It’s JJ. You can smell his cologne. Feel the cool metal of his rings against your burning skin. Yes, JJ.

“JayJ?” you mumble, fingers tethering into his hair.

“Mmm,” he hums against your skin. Yes, it’s JJ. His fingers hook into the band of your sweats and he lowers them down your legs. Presses wet, open mouthed kisses to the newly revealed skin that you’d caught him staring at too many times to count.

And you should be enjoying it. Should be turned on beyond belief, desperate for his touch or his mouth or something on your aching cunt. But instead you’re just trying to stay present. Drilling it into your head that it is him, that it is JJ, that this is different. It makes no sense. Tyler never abused you. Never too advantage of you. Or did he? Did he–

No, not Tyler. JJ. The same JJ who’s mumbling things against your thigh, dragging your panties down your legs.

“Prettiest fuckin’ pussy…”

But when he teases a finger to your folds, you’re dry. JJ pauses.

“You okay?”

“Mhm,” you hum. Now your brain is busy with panic. He’s been turning you on like crazy so why the fuck is your body not doing what it’s supposed to do? Embarrassment stings your eyes. This has never happened before. Never. JJ continues to ease his finger up and down but to no avail. He shifts up your body, kissing delicately at your neck.

“Are you…not into this or?” JJ tentatively asks.

“No, I am, I just–” You cut yourself off with an exasperated sigh. Gently pushing JJ off you, you shift to sit up, hiding your burning face in your hands despite the black out. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why.”

“It’s alright. Hey, no, it’s alright, don’t worry,” JJ reassures.

As you tug your shirt down, JJ climbs off the pull-out. You hear his footsteps depart. You busy yourself with pulling your sweatpants back up. A flashlight guides JJ’s return. You squint when he shines it directly in your face.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, flicking it back down to the floor. He steps over the mess of the board game and joins you on the sofa. Passes you his half drunk bottle of beer and the alcohol helps wash away the initial sting of embarrassment. In the shadow of his flashlight, you still see his boner through his sweatpants and you instantly feel guilty for accidentally blue-balling him.

“I’m sorry,” you repeat.

“Don’t apologise,” JJ chuckles. He takes the beer back when you offer it to him. Has a swig.

“S’just embarrassing,” you mumble.

“Nah. Guess it’s just like ED for a guy,” JJ thinks aloud.

“Oh, and ED isn’t embarrassing?” you half-heartedly joke.

JJ chuckles. “Alright, fair point. But you don’t gotta be embarrassed with me. It’s cool.”

You nod. The two of you sit there in the pitch-black as the storm billows on outside. You look out the window. The wind throws twigs and sticks and leaves around; you can see it through the porch netting.

“Did I ever tell you about when I lost my virginity?” JJ asks.

You snort and look to him. “Yeah, funny enough, that never came up in any of our conversations.”

JJ smiles, amused. “Fair point.”

He relaxes against the back of the sofa and you decide to join him, settling your head against his chest. One of his hands loops around your body, fingers stroking your thigh over your sweatpants soothingly.

“I was fourteen.”

“Fourteen?”

“I was an early bloomer, I guess,” JJ replies, making you chuckle quietly. “There was this smokin’ Toron visiting the island. I mean, not as hot as you, but a close second - I’m not gonna lie. Way better than what my thirteen-year-old wet dreams cooked up.”

“Gross,” you cringe, scrunching up your nose.

“So, I started talking to her and she asked if I had...and I hadn’t, and neither had she and…Yeah. And then, when it came down to it, and we were macking and stuff, I couldn’t get it up.”

You shift to look up to him, lips apart. “Wait, really?”

“I’m dead serious,” JJ chuckles. “I was flippin’ out cause I’d never had a problem with it before.”

“What happened? Did you guys end up calling it off or…”

“Well,” JJ says, scratching the back of his neck, “the problem seemed to go away after she showed me her tits but–”

“Ah. That makes sense,” you snigger.

“But the point is, it happens to all of us,” JJ tells you. “So, you don’t gotta be embarrassed.”

“Well, thanks,” you hum. Snuggling your head against his shirt, your eyes slip shut. The madness of the storm was strangely soothing. “I’m sorry for disappearing, JayJ.”

“It’s alright,” JJ says quietly. “I do it too, sometimes. When I need to think or it gets too much.”

The two of you understand one another. Guarded behind self-built walls of which only the other seemed to have the sledgehammer for. It's something you want to talk about more but with your eyes closed, in the comfort of JJ’s hold, you find yourself drifting away into sleep.

read part six here!

taglist:

#jj x reader #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj #obx #outer banks #outerbanks #obx fic #outer banks fic #outerbanks fic #jj x fem!reader #jj maybank x fem!reader

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sinofwriting · 1 year

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Made For Each Other - Max Verstappen

Words: 3,486 Summary: Max never put much stock into love at first sight until meeting her. Note(s)/Warning(s): Near Physical Cheating, Some Emotional Cheating (on Kelly not reader). So this is the toxic!max fic I mentioned and uh yeah this isn’t super like toxic but it’s something. Also, I will not apologize for inserting found family into this fic.

Masterlist | Support Me!

“What?” Max presses his lips together, jaw twitching and he’s happy that P isn’t here, but with Daniil’s parents. “Things haven’t been good for us in awhile.” Maybe ever. He thinks and nearly winces, because they had been good in the beginning. But things had changed halfway through the 2021 season and it had only gotten worse as the weeks and months went on. “Kelly, it is unfair to you for me to pretend that I want to be with you anymore.” He nearly says that once the season was over he was already planning on breaking up with her, but manages to hold his tongue. She’s looking at him in that way that he hates, that’s caused arguments because it reminds him of his father. “What do you want me to tell P?” He can’t help the sigh of relief that escapes him at her easy acceptance. “Tell her that I will always love her and that if she ever wants to talk to me, she can call and I’ll do my best to answer.” “Okay.” Her voice is quiet and she looks around his apartment. “There shouldn’t be much here, but what you do find, have it shipped to me.” “Of course.”

He watches as Kelly walks towards the front door and maybe he shouldn’t say anything, doesn’t want to give her false hope, but he can’t help it. “Kelly.” She stops, her hand on the door knob ready to turn it. “Thank you for the past few years and all your support.” He sees her shoulders move as she sighs. “Your welcome, Max.” And then she turns the handle and walks out of his apartment.

He watches the door for a moment, feeling like if he looks away, suddenly she’ll be back. But the handle doesn’t turn and he’s spinning around to move to the couch where he had thrown his phone when Kelly had unexpectedly come here.

His thumb quickly moves across the screen, opening his last text message thread and sending a simple text.

I broke up with her.

It stares up at him and three dots appear along with those little check marks and he can’t help but smile. And god if the media could see him now, smiling after just breaking up with his girlfriend of so long, they’d use this as some sort of proof that he is the devil.

And now what?

His smile grows and his thumb moves again.

And now I come to you.

—

“You know, I thought you athletes had to train. Keep fit for the season.” She teases as he watches her move around her small kitchen. “I’ve barely been here a day and you’re kicking me out?” She shakes her head at him. “No it’s just I know that China got canceled, but you do have another race soon.” He shrugs, “It’s at the very end of the month. Besides, there's a gym close by. I can go there.” “And did you tell your trainer that you wouldn’t be home so he shouldn’t drop off any food or expect you?” His eyes widened. “Fuck.” He curses, scrambling out of the kitchen and to the bedroom where his phone is, her laughter ringing in his ears.

Calling Brad, he hears the phone ring three times before his trainer picks up. “Hello,” “Hey Brad, uh I’m not home right now. I mean, I’m not in the uh country.” “Did they call you for some testing?” “Uh no. I’m not there either. Just took a bit of a break, so don’t worry about meals or anything.” There’s a bit of silence before Brad speaks again. “Max, is everything alright?” “Yeah, yes. Everything is fine. I just needed a bit of a break. I’ll see you in Milton on the twenty-first, yeah?” “Sure.” “Great.” And Max hangs up the call, feeling a bit like a hurricane.

“You’ve made me go crazy.” He tells her when he sees her standing in the door of the bedroom, raising an arm when she doesn’t move. She immediately moves into his space, wrapping her arms around his waist, as his arm wraps around her shoulders, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Have I?” “Yes. Meeting you has made me crazy.” “Do you regret it?” “No.” The answer is swift and firm, because no he could never regret it.

So much had changed since he had seen her for the first time just barely two weeks ago. Most of those changes happened in the past forty-eight hours. But he liked those changes.

He liked how he felt ever since she first looked at him, shook his hand, said his name. Liked how she made him smile and laugh. Maybe it was fucked but he liked how in Austrailia when he won and he nearly kissed her at the afterparty, she had to press her hand on his chest and hold him back. Remind him that he had a girlfriend. Had to stop him from pulling out his phone to call her and break up with her right then and there. Liked that despite that, she had taken his unlocked phone, added her number and told him to text her. Pressed her lips to his cheek and let the scent of her bury itself in his brain. He liked that when he first texted her asking when he could see her again, she hadn’t asked who, just told him they could talk when he was single. Liked that barely a day later he had texted her telling her he was and now he was here, with her, in her home.

Max loved however, her. The way she kissed him when he showed up at her doorstep. The then slight shyness she had over her giving him her number and her text, though there was no guilt or apology to be found in her words. Just more disbelief that she had done so. How she smelled, her house smelled. The way she sat, how her fingers brushed over his skin. How passionate she was about her job, about the music she listened to, and the candle that sat beside her bathtub.

And so it comes out. “I love you.”

He shouldn’t be saying it. People would and will call him crazy for it, but he knows himself. He knows what he’s feeling. And he loves her. Loves this woman that he hasn’t even known for a month. And fuck, people like to talk about how love at first sight doesn’t exist and you don’t know when someone is the one immediately or so soon after meeting them, but that isn’t true. There are outliers. He’s got a cousin that married her husband barely a year after dating him and they are happier than any couple he’s ever seen. One of the guys he grew up karting with met his girlfriend and a month later they were moving in together. He thinks they have three kids or maybe it’s four now.

And she, she feels like he was made for her and only her.

“I love you too.” The words aren’t whispered, no shame or doubt on them. Just certainty and he doesn’t know that she’s thinking the same thing. That she was made just for him.

—

She doesn’t come to the next race no matter how much he begs. Even when he’s about to run late for his flight back to the factory, head buried her neck as he pleads with her to come. But she only laughs, brushing her fingers through his hair.

“You just barely made a statement about no longer being with Kelly.” And he kind of hates that there’s no distaste in her voice about him having a girlfriend when they met. He knows that if she had been seeing someone his blood would be boiling everytime his name got brought up or even hinted at. “Give it a bit to settle.” He straightens with a bit of frown, “I won’t hide you.” She laughs, eyes lighting up and it makes him smile. “I’m not asking you too. Just for patience. I don’t want your PR team to end up hating me.” “Miami, then?” She shakes her head, pushing him away. “You have a plane to catch, Max.” “Imola?” He asks, backing up. Eyes widening a bit when she shakes her head again. “Monaco?” “Max!” And she’s laughing again. “Spain?” And this time she nods her head and he groans, picking up his duffel bag that’s been sitting by the door for probably thirty minutes now. “That is so fair away. You will make me wait that long?” “Oh, poor baby. Having to wait just a little over a month.” He pokes his bottom lip out, unashamed to pout. Because yes, not having her with him for the next four races sounded like torture. He had only gotten a taste of what her support was like in Australia. He wanted all of it now.

She must see that on his face because her smile turns fond, no more teasing and she’s capturing his lips in a quick kiss. “It will go by faster than you think, Max. And it gives me enough time to get everything situated so I can really be comfortable working from anywhere in the world.” “So, you’ll join me for the rest of the season?” “Yes.” He grins, pressing their lips together once, then twice. “If it does not go by fast like you say,” She stops him before he can continue. “Go, Max, it will. And I’m always a call away.”

—

The press eagerly awaits Max’s arrival in Baku. Hoping to see the two time world champion, downtrodden, miserable, regretful. Instead they get an even better story. He arrives at the track on the phone laughing, smile wide and body relaxed. It wasn’t the image of a man who had just separated from his girlfriend of a few years. It was the image of a man happier than he ever had been before.

They all want to ask questions, want to ask who he’s talking to, what or who perhaps has him smiling. Why did he and Kelly break up? Did he break up with her? Did she with him? But none of them are willing to risk the odd relationship that Red Bull has with the press, kind even generous until you cross the line.

—

“No more races without you.” He murmurs when she arrives at his hotel in Spain, his breath causing goosebumps to appear on her neck. “No more.” She agrees, before pulling slightly away, just so they can look at each other. “Hi.” She greets. He smiles at her. “Hi.” “Congrats on Monaco.” He huffs, but something warm fills him with her words. “You said that on the phone.” “That was on the phone.” She teases, before lifting her arms to loop them around his neck. “Proud of you, Max.” He doesn’t know how to respond to that, to how sincere her words are, so he presses their lips together.

“I love you.” She breathes when they break apart, panting slightly with shiny and swollen lips. “I love you too.”

—

The camera's shuttering intensifies as soon as Max’s car that he was given for the race weekend arrives at the track on Saturday. And it only gets worse when instead of just locking the car and starting his walk to the red bull garage, he rounds to the other side, opening the passenger door and helping a woman get out.

This woman is not one that any of them recognize. She is not Max’s mother or sister. She is not Kelly or some sort of model, super, instagram, or swimsuit. And even better they don’t recognize this Max. Who as soon as she is out of the car, purse in hands, shuts the door for her, which is fairly typical for him. But what is not is the way he presses his lips to hers for a quick kiss, before snaking an arm around her waist, a sort of love sick smile on his face as they begin the walk.

“I can’t believe you wanted me to come to one of these things earlier.” She murmurs to him, giving a wave to all the cameras. If she was going to do this, be with Max, she’d have to get used to them and quickly. “I still wish you had.” He murmurs back, squeezing her waist and turning his head to press his nose quickly to the top of her head. “Did you tell anyone about me or that I was coming?” She asks, though she already has a feeling what the answer is as they move further into the paddock and sees some of the drivers do double takes. He smirks, “now why would I do that?” She shakes her head, “your PR team is going to kill you and I’m going to watch.” Her eyes then catch on a slightly familiar man who’s looking at Max with murder in his eyes and she amends her statement. “Daniel is going to kill you and I’m going to watch.” Max pales slightly as he takes a look at the man she only knows from his stories and a few brief clips she’s seen on youtube.

As soon as they enter Red Bull’s hospitality for the weekend, Daniel pounces. Dragging Max and her since Max refuses to let go of her, to Max’s drivers room.

When the door closes, Daniel shoves Max though she expects more gently than he normally would due to her and stands in front of the door, hands on his hips, anger and disappointment warring on his face.

“Max.” “Daniel.” He replies, though it's a bit meek and she can’t help but give his hand a quick squeeze before letting go and stepping away. Not returning to his side despite the offended and hurt look he gives her. She shakes her head. “I told you that you could tell people.”

Daniel turns to look at her, giving her a quick grin. “I like you.” He declares before turning back to Max, grin gone.

“Seriously Max. First there was Kelly and you breaking up, which I found out through social media and you still haven’t told me how that whole thing went down.” She winces at the exasperation in Daniel’s voice. She knew from Max how close they were, considering themselves brothers just about and she couldn’t imagine how Daniel felt learning about Max’s breakup from social media and not the man himself.

“And now this!” He waves his hands around between her and Max. “I’m sure you're great.” He tells her quickly and she gives him a sheepish smile. “I mean really Max. What gives?” Max stares at the older man, unsure of what exactly to say to him.

It wasn’t like he didn’t think the people he was closest to weren’t going to have a reaction to the news of his breakup and now new relationship. It’s just that besides Daniel none of them had really reached out wanting to know what happened because they were all right with not knowing. They knew that if Max wanted to talk about it with them, he would. But Daniel was different.

He talked to Daniel about everything. A side effect of the older man having to deal with him as a teammate for those few years when he was so young and trying to really figure himself out. They had developed a different kind of relationship. One where he knew that he could go to Daniel with anything and everything and receive no judgment, only support. Daniel to him was a weird cross of a friend, brother, and father.

“I’m sorry.” He apologizes and his hands tighten into fists a little. Always unsure of himself when apologizing. “I should have called. Told you, explained what happened.” He hesitates, but knows that Daniel deserves the truth. “I nearly did.” And wasn’t that the truth. There were many times he nearly called or texted Daniel to tell him about the stunning girl he saw, then met, then nearly kissed, then got together with. But he hadn’t. He knew if he told Daniel, he’d end up telling everyone. Daniel stares at him, face giving away nothing, making him fidget, before he sighs and gives Max a smile. “It’s all good mate. You’re a bit of a cunt. But,” he shrugs, grinning. “You’ve always been like that.” Max lets out a laugh, relaxing at the familiar energy of Daniel. “Yeah, just a bit.”

He turns to look at his girlfriend, who's looking between the two of them with a smile, beckoning her back to his side. Enjoying how she easily fits into his side. “Daniel, this is my girlfriend,” and he knows his voice is lovesick when he says her name with the way Daniel looks at him. “Darling, Daniel.” “It’s nice to meet you, Daniel. Max talks about you a lot.” Daniel’s eyes flicker to Max, expecting some sort of an embarrassment or denial, but the younger man just nods. And that’s good enough for Daniel, who immediately grins at her before pulling her into a hug. “Nice to meet you as well. Max treating you well? I taught him everything he knows.” He tells her with a wink when he releases her. She lets out a small giggle at his words, but nods. “Very well. And thank you for your services.” She winks, making Daniel laugh.

“Oh, you are amazing. Now, tell me how this happened and what happened with Kelly.” He says gesturing between the two of them, sitting on the folding chair in the room, while they sit on the couch. “They are very much connected.” She laughs, before patting Max on the arm and sitting back fully.

“Oh, no.” Max groans, running a hand over his face. Daniel was going to have a fucking laugh. “So, we met a little before the Australian Grand Prix. Nearly had an incident there.” He tilts his head towards her and Daniel nods, understanding what he’s saying. “I actually nearly broke it off there. She managed to stop me however. But when I got home to Monaco, I broke up with Kelly then and there. Was already planning on doing it at the end of the season.” Daniel nods. “You mentioned that before.” “Yeah.” Max sighs, before telling him the rest.

Daniel stares at him for a moment after he's done before shaking his head, with a sort of breathless laugh. “Only you, Max. Only you. I’m happy for you though.” Max smiles at the older man’s easy acceptance. “Thank you.” “PR’s going to kill you for not giving them any warning.” He rolls his eyes, she had been telling him the same thing. “They won’t do anything. Besides, didn't they want me to be more personable?” “Don’t think this is what they meant or had in mind.” She tells him. “Probably hoping you’d vlog. Do what Charles and Lando do.” His nose wrinkles at the idea, making her and Daniel laugh.

—

“You’re good for him.” Daniel murmurs as they watch qualifying. She turns her head a little, still keeping most of her focus on the track. “Think so?” “Know so.” He corrects, taking a moment to flash her a smile. “Max and Kelly,” he sighs. “They had a lot of issues.” She says for him. “Wanted different things or the same things but not at the same time.” “Yeah,” the older man breathes, feeling at ease with how much she knows. “She made him happy at first ya know? But you,” he pauses to shake his head. “You make him into the person I think he would’ve been without Jos. Relaxed, at ease, happy.” His voice is a little quieter with the last word and she has to blink so she doesn’t start to cry. “I want him to be happy. And I know we fell into this fast, but Max.” She sighs, feeling a smile stretch across her lips as her heart flutters in her chest all at his name, at the thought of him. “I was made for him.” Daniel chuckles, taking in the infatuated, lovesick, expression on her face. It was the same look he had seen earlier on Max. It was nice to see that it really did go both ways. “There might be some fuss around it, but it’ll die down eventually.” He hesitates not wanting his next words to seem to much, but thinks fuck it. They went to the extremes here, and she’d have to get used to it fast with Max, if she wasn’t already. “I’ll message a few drivers that I know will support you and Max. We’ll have your guys back with the media or anyone else.” His support and approval make her reach out, squeezing his forearm for a few seconds. “Thank you, Daniel. It means the world to me.”

---

Tagging: @lapb @gemofthenight @peachiicherries

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #my brainrot for max is so bad #i had to finish this one because last night i came up with another idea for him #he has a hold on me #sins fics

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post-leffert · 2 years

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CHICAGO ABOLITIONISTS SHUT DOWN BANK OF AMERICA BY GLUING ATMS IN RETALIATION FOR THE MURDER OF TORTUGUITA

20th January, Chicago USA.

via: Scenes

“CHICAGO, IL — Friday night, January 20th, Chicago abolitionists in solidarity with the movement to Stop Cop City and Defend the Atlanta Forest glued shut the card reader and keyhole at a Bank of America ATM and “Virtual Banking” facility in Chicago’s affluent Lincoln Park neighborhood (2428 N Lincoln Ave). They also left messages, including STOP COP CITY, DEFEND THE ATLANTA FOREST, and ACAB on the ATM windows and door. The incident was in response to the murder of a forest defender by police in Atlanta on January 18th, 2023.

Bank of America is a top funder of police foundations across the US, in particular the Atlanta Police Foundation, which is funding the destruction of Weelaunee Forest in “Atlanta” to build “Cop City.” The intended facility would be a militarized police training compound, including a mock city for cops to practice urban warfare on Atlanta’s residents, particularly the Black and Brown and poor communities adjacent to the forest. In 2020, BOA gave at least $50,000 to the foundation; tax data from 2021-22 is not yet available.

Bank of America also bankrolls the Chicago Police Foundation, with BoA Senior Vice President Patricia Provenzano sitting on its board.

On January 18th, police in Atlanta murdered a forest defender, Manuel “Tortuguita” Teran, as they attempted to force people out of the forest to allow the destruction to proceed. This violence is further proof that police only serve and protect the interests of the wealthy and powerful – bankers and capitalists who will happily have people murdered and ecosystems destroyed to continue hoarding wealth.

From @defendtheatlantaforest @stopcopcity on Instagram, friends said: “Tortuguita was a kind, passionate, loving person cherished by their community. They spent their time between Atlanta, defending the forests from destruction and coordinating mutual aid, and Florida where they helped build housing in low income communities hit hardest by the hurricane. They were a medic, a loving partner, a dear friend, a brave soul, and so much more.”

Chicago activists echo the calls of Atlanta forest defenders to immediately stop the attacks on the forest and abandon plans to build Cop City.”

#smash the banks #Chicago #anarchy #anarchism #direct action #stop cop city

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window-replacement-group · 2 months

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wannabehockeygf · 1 month

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Florida!!! - Clayton Keller

“My friends all smell like weed or little babies,

And this city reeks of driving myself crazy,

Little did you know, your home’s really only a town you’re just a guest in?

So you work your life away,

Just to pay for a timeshare down in Destin.”

Summary: On a family vacation with your boyfriend, you find him stoned with his brother, and when he gets you alone, things escalate…

Word Count: 5k

Pairing: Clayton Keller x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ NSFW! Use of drugs (marijuana), oral sex (f receiving), Clayton being an absolute munch.

Notes:

- been indulging recently (it’s perfectly legal where i live, don’t @ me…) so real life projection!

- munch Clayton is finally here for my girlies who enjoy him as much as I do!

- also I’m still not over ttpd. no skip album.

- not proof read <3

***

*EDIT 08/15/2024 @ 8:31pm PST : His brother’s name is Jake. Not Luke. Sorry if you read prior 😭 (hughes brother brainrot)

A vacation with your boyfriend’s family? Oh, this was uncharted territory. I mean, you’d survived Thanksgiving dinner at his parents’ house in St. Louis—barely. But that was just one night. One turkey. One slightly-too-long hug from his mom. You’d only been together five months, after all.

But now, here you are, basking in the relentless sunshine of Destin, Florida, sharing a timeshare with them. A timeshare. This is like Thanksgiving on steroids, with no escape hatch. The place is stupidly nice, though. Like, if Pottery Barn threw up on a beach house, this would be it. Sure, Clayton probably financed half of it, but you still feel like you’re tiptoeing through a very fragile house of cards. One wrong move and you’ll topple the whole “good impression” thing you’ve got going on. So yeah, “best behavior” mode is fully engaged, like a 24/7 surveillance camera on yourself.

But then, the moment of truth. After a blissful solo beach jaunt—because let’s be honest, sometimes you just need a break from all that “family bonding”—you wander into the garage, nose twitching at some weird smell. Is that...skunk? No, no. Please don’t be a skunk. You cautiously push open the door, and what do you find? Clayton and his brother, Jake, in full bro-mode sitting in flimsy lawn chairs, laughing like they’re at some frat party, sharing hits from a brightly colored bong.

Well, that’s definitely a new one.

Really, Clayton? You’re on a family vacation, not reliving your glory days as "Chad, the King of Sigma Nu." Is this his idea of “relaxing with the fam?” Plus, isn’t smoking bad for your lungs? Especially for a hockey player. You stand there for a second, frozen like you’ve just walked in on a murder mystery party and are trying to figure out if you’re the victim or the detective. Your mind is a hurricane of thoughts: Should I laugh? Should I be offended? Is this one of those “testing the girlfriend” moments? Because honestly, who packs a bong for a trip to a family-friendly beach destination?

You catch Clayton’s eye, and for a split second, you see the gears in his head screech to a halt. Jake, on the other hand, is blissfully unaware of your presence, too busy blowing a perfect smoke ring that floats lazily toward the ceiling. Clayton gives you this wide-eyed, deer-in-headlights look, which would be adorable if it weren’t so stupid. Oh, sweetheart, you are so busted.

“Heyyy,” Clayton says, dragging out the word like he’s trying to slow time. “You, uh, back already?”

You blink. “Yeah, funny thing, I actually live here too. With your family. On vacation. Remember?”

He shifts uncomfortably in his lawn chair—seriously, who uses lawn chairs indoors?—and suddenly, you’re struck by how much this scene looks like a low-budget college film. The only thing missing is a dorm fridge stocked with PBR and a poster of Bob Marley on the wall. Instead, it’s all beige walls and perfectly coordinated coastal decor that just screams, “Don’t touch anything.”

Jake finally notices you and breaks into a grin, lifting the bong like it’s a trophy. “Hey, you wanna join?”

Oh, great, you think, now I’m one of the bros.

But before you can respond, Clayton is already scrambling to fix this train wreck. “No, no, she doesn’t want to join! Right, babe?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Where did you guys even get that? I mean, isn’t smoking pot like… illegal in this state?”

Clayton, bless his clueless heart, is staring at you with wide, bloodshot eyes like a puppy that just realized it’s chewed up your favorite shoes. Meanwhile, Jake— who you’re now starting to think might actually be a golden retriever in human form—waves the bong around like he’s offering you a slice of pizza at a sleepover.

“Illegal? Pssh, not if you don’t get caught,” Jake says with a wink that’s meant to be charming but lands somewhere between “bad decision” and “future mugshot.”

Clayton clears his throat and finally sets the bong down on the cement floor, like he’s slowly disarming a bomb. “It’s just, you know, for relaxation. Family vacations can be...stressful.”

You tilt your head, considering this. Stressful? You’ve been trying to make sure his mom doesn’t hate you and his dad doesn’t think you’re a gold-digger. And he’s the one who’s stressed? You bite back a laugh, because now’s really not the time to remind him that you’ve been fake-smiling so much your cheeks are about to cramp.

“Oh, totally,” you say, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Because nothing says ‘stress relief’ like hiding in the garage with your brother, getting high while the rest of your family is out there expecting you to be getting ready for dinner.”

Clayton scratches the back of his neck, his go-to move when he’s trying to avoid a conversation. It’s endearing, really. In a way that also makes you want to strangle him. “I wasn’t— I mean, we were just—” He stumbles over his words, and you can practically see the gears in his head struggling to find a logical explanation that isn’t “We’re idiots.”

You take a deep breath, rolling your eyes so hard you’re worried they might get stuck. But, honestly, are you even surprised? In the last five months, you’ve learned that Clayton’s the kind of guy who accidentally dips his fries in your ketchup while trying to impress you with some half-baked philosophical theory about life. Which, admittedly, is part of his charm—when he’s not pulling stunts like this.

“Alright,” you say, crossing your arms, “let’s get one thing straight. I’m not going to narc you out to your mom since you’re actual grown adults, but you’re coming inside with me right now, and I’m going to help you sober up before we have to go to dinner.”

Jake’s still grinning like an idiot, probably already mentally planning the next bong hit, but you’ve got your sights set on Clayton. He’s trying to look contrite, but the bloodshot eyes are sort of ruining the effect.

“Come on,” you say, reaching out to take his hand, which, by the way, is clammy. Lovely. “I don’t think anyone’s noticed you’ve gone missing yet, but let’s not push our luck.”

Clayton gives you a sheepish smile, the kind that’s got you melting just a little bit. He stands up, wobbling slightly, and you have to resist the urge to laugh. Instead, you squeeze his hand, pulling him toward the door that leads back into the house.

You’re halfway there when Jake chimes in, “You sure you don’t want a hit? It’s good stuff. I mean, if you want to see, like, colors you didn’t know existed...”

You raise an eyebrow. “Colors? Really? I thought you were more of a ‘munchies and conspiracy theories’ kind of guy.”

Jake blinks at you, clearly having to work too hard to process that sentence, and you’re actually kind of proud of yourself. Two points for you, zero for the stoner brothers.

Clayton’s trailing behind you, still holding your hand like it’s a lifeline, and you can feel him trying to gauge your mood. It’s not anger, really—more of a low simmering exasperation. You drag him through the door and into the immaculate kitchen, up the stairs, until you reach the bedroom you’d been sharing.

Clayton finally releases your hand, flopping down onto the bed like a ragdoll. “Babe, you’re the best, you know that?” he mumbles, rubbing his eyes like a kid who’s been up past his bedtime. “I mean, seriously, the absolute best.”

You raise an eyebrow, perching on the edge of the bed. “Oh, I know. But that’s not going to save you from having to drink a gallon of water and eating something before we go to dinner with your parents.”

He groans, throwing an arm over his face like he’s in a bad rom-com. “Do we have to? I was kind of hoping we could just... stay here. Forever. In this bed. With no responsibilities.”

You smirk, reaching over to poke his side. “As tempting as that sounds, I’m not sure your mom would appreciate us skipping out on dinner after she called multiple travel agents to find the best restaurant.”

He peeks out from under his arm, giving you a lopsided grin. “Come here,” He urges, obviously still trying to get out of his responsibilities. His voice is teasing, but there’s something genuine in his eyes that makes your heart do a weird little flip.

You take a deep breath, trying to muster the willpower to resist the magnetic pull of that stupidly adorable grin. Clayton’s got this way of looking at you, all soft eyes and boyish charm, like he’s just discovered the best thing in the world, and it happens to be you. It’s the kind of look that could melt the Polar ice caps, and honestly, it’s not fair.

But you’re here for a mission, and that mission is to get this man sober enough to face his family without blowing your cover as the perfect girlfriend who isn’t remotely flustered by her boyfriend’s impromptu stoner session in the garage.

"Nice try," you say, raising an eyebrow and trying to keep your resolve firm, "but you’re not weaseling your way out of this one with cuddles."

“Come on,” Clayton says again, patting the bed beside him. “We’ve got, what? An hour before dinner? We could… relax for a bit.” His voice drops at the word “relax,” and you catch the hint of mischief in his tone.

You narrow your eyes at him, feigning suspicion. “Relax? Are you sure that’s all you want to do?”

He grins, and it’s that boyish, slightly cocky smile that usually precedes him getting his way. “I mean, we could do other things. Fun things. Relaxing, fun things…”

You’re already shaking your head, but you can feel the resolve weakening. It doesn’t help that he’s giving you that look—the one that’s equal parts puppy-dog eyes and shameless seduction. How he manages to pull that off when he still smells like weed with a hint of Febreze is beyond you.

“Clay…” you start, trying to maintain a firm tone, but he’s already moving closer, his hand finding its way to your thigh. The warmth of his touch sends a shiver up your spine, and suddenly, you’re a lot less focused on the whole “responsible girlfriend” thing and more on the fact that, despite his current state, he’s still ridiculously attractive.

“Mm-hmm?” he murmurs, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your shoulder.

Oh no. You know where this is going, and while every logical part of you is screaming “this is a bad idea,” the rest of you is pretty much ready to throw logic out the window.

“Clayton,” you try again, but this time it’s softer, less of a protest and more of a gentle reminder that maybe—just maybe—you should both be thinking this through.

He nuzzles his way up your neck, planting kisses as he goes, and when his lips reach that spot just beneath your ear, the one that makes your breath hitch, you know you’re done for.

“Mm-hmm?” he repeats, but this time it’s muffled against your skin, and the way his voice vibrates sends a delightful thrill through your entire body.

“Dinner,” you say weakly, though even to your own ears, it sounds more like a suggestion than a requirement.

“Later,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your jaw.

You let out a breathy laugh, your hands instinctively finding their way to his hair, threading through the soft strands. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Mm-hmm,” he hums again, clearly not caring in the slightest. His hands are roaming now, one sliding up your back, the other tracing patterns on your thigh. You feel him gently push you back against the pillows, his body pressing against yours in a way that makes it very hard to remember why you were resisting in the first place.

For a brief moment, you consider pushing him away, reminding him of the inevitable dinner with his parents where, let’s be honest, you’re still trying to score all the points. But then his lips find yours, and all thoughts of social propriety melt away.

His hand slides up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin in that gentle, affectionate way that always makes your heart skip a beat. He pulls back just a fraction, his eyes half-lidded and glassy, but there’s a warmth there—a genuine sweetness that cuts through the haze of weed and turns your resolve to mush.

“You know I’m crazy about you, right?” he murmurs, his voice low and a little rough. It’s that tone that gets you every time, the one that makes it clear he’s not just messing around, even if he’s not entirely in his right mind at the moment.

Your heart does that weird flip again, and you find yourself smiling despite everything. “I know,” you whisper back, your fingers still tangled in his hair.

He grins, all boyish charm and mischief, and then his lips are on yours again, more insistent this time. The kiss is slow and languid, like he’s savoring every second, and you can’t help but melt into it. His hands are warm, tracing a path down your sides, and when he pulls you closer, pressing his body against yours, you let out a soft, involuntary sigh.

“Mm, I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he mumbles against your lips, his voice thick with desire. “Can’t stop thinking about you.”

You’re lying there, pinned under the warm, slightly too-heavy weight of Clayton’s body, and your mind is racing, trying to catch up with the situation. Clayton’s still high as a kite, and yet here he is, trying to seduce you with that damn lopsided grin of his. You’re supposed to be the responsible one right now, the one who keeps everything on track. The one who doesn’t let her boyfriend’s cannabis-induced haze derail a meticulously planned family dinner. But, as his lips work their way down your neck, you’re beginning to think maybe you’ve lost control of this situation altogether.

“Clayton,” you say, trying to sound firm, but it comes out more like a breathless sigh. His mouth is trailing hot, lazy kisses along your collarbone, and you can feel his fingers tugging at the hem of your shirt. It’s distracting, to say the least, and you’re struggling to hold on to any coherent thought that doesn’t involve how good his touch feels.

“Hm?” He hums against your skin, completely oblivious to the inner turmoil you’re experiencing. His hands slide under your shirt, the calloused pads of his fingers brushing against your bare stomach, sending shivers up your spine. He’s not making this easy, and you know that’s probably the point.

“Dinner,” you manage to say, though it’s a weak attempt at protest. “We’re supposed to be getting ready for dinner.”

“Mm, later,” he mumbles, his lips moving lower, kissing just above the waistband of your shorts. “This is more important.”

You can’t help the small, breathy laugh that escapes you. “Is it now?”

He lifts his head to look at you, and the sight of him—flushed, with slightly mussed hair and glassy eyes that are somehow both earnest and a little mischievous—makes your heart skip a beat. “Definitely,” he says, and there’s something in his voice, a kind of sweet, dopey sincerity, that almost makes you want to give in right then and there.

You chew on your lower lip, trying to stay focused, but it’s hard when his hands are skimming up your sides, pushing your shirt higher. “Clayton, you’re high,” you remind him gently, as if he needs the reminder. “We really should—”

“I know,” he interrupts, and there’s that lopsided grin again, the one that makes your stomach do funny little flips. “But I just... I really fucking want you. And I want to make you feel good.”

You let out a sigh, glancing at the bedroom door as if it’s the gateway to the world of “responsibility” that you’re desperately trying to cling to. But honestly, that door is looking less like an escape route and more like a blockade against the pure, unadulterated temptation that is Clayton, sprawled out on the bed, high as a kite and making it very clear what he wants.

You’re supposed to be the responsible one. The one who keeps her wits about her, who doesn’t let a family vacation turn into a complete disaster because her boyfriend decided to get high with his brother in the garage. And yet…here you are, feeling the weight of Clayton’s gaze on you, his hands warm and insistent as they trace the curve of your hips.

“Clayton,” you try again, but your voice is soft, more an invitation than a protest. You should be telling him to sober up, to get dressed for dinner, to think about the fact that his mom could come knocking on the door at any minute. But instead, you find yourself caught in the way his eyes—glassy as they are—still manage to look at you like you’re the only thing that matters.

He looks up at you with those dazed, love-struck eyes and gives you that adorable lopsided grin. “Again? Baby, you don’t understand. I’ve been dreaming about having you like this all day. I just want to make you feel good. I’m so fucking into you right now. Just let me take care of you. It’s all I want.”

Oh god, his eyes are making your heart race, and every rational thought you had is slipping through your fingers. Here you are, his fingers gently tugging at your shirt, his lips grazing your collarbone in a way that makes you question every life decision you’ve ever made.

He’s literally begging to go down on you. To make you feel good, not giving a shit about himself. You’d laugh if it didn’t sound like the absolute best idea in the world right now.

But still, you hesitate. “Clayton,” you start, and even you’re surprised by how steady your voice sounds. “We really, really shouldn’t…”

He doesn’t stop. In fact, he seems to take your half-hearted protest as encouragement because he’s already kissing a path down your stomach, his fingers expertly unbuttoning your shorts like he’s done it a thousand times before. “I don’t care,” he mutters against your skin, and there’s an edge of desperation in his tone that sends a shiver down your spine. “I just need to taste you. Please, baby, let me.”

You bite your lip, trying to keep a level head, but Clayton’s hands are roaming, his fingers curling under the waistband of your shorts, tugging them down with a slow, deliberate movement. You feel the cool air against your skin, and suddenly every nerve in your body is on high alert. He’s not stopping—he’s determined, and you know, deep down, that if you don’t stop him now, you’re going to lose this battle entirely.

But then he looks up at you, his eyes soft and pleading, his lips swollen from the kisses he’s trailed across your body, and you know you’re done for. He’s high, sure, but there’s something in his gaze that’s entirely genuine—a need to make you feel good, to lose himself in the act of worshiping your body.

You swallow hard, your breath catching in your throat as you nod, just once, and it’s all the permission he needs. He grins, and there’s that boyish charm again, the kind that makes your stomach flip in the most ridiculous way.

“Thank you,” he breathes out, and before you can even process what’s happening, he’s tugging your shorts fully down your legs, tossing them aside with zero care about where they land. His hands find your thighs, spreading them apart with a gentle insistence that makes your heart pound in your chest. He’s on a mission, and that mission is apparently you.

You try to brace yourself for what’s coming, but nothing—nothing—could have prepared you for the way Clayton dives in like a man starved. His mouth is hot, wet, and insistent, and the first swipe of his tongue against you has your back arching off the bed. He’s not wasting any time, his mouth moving with a kind of single-minded focus that makes your head spin.

“Fuck,” you gasp, your hands flying to his hair, fingers threading through the soft strands as you try to ground yourself. He hums against you, the vibration sending shockwaves through your entire body, and you know you’re in trouble. Big, big trouble.

Clayton’s always been good at this—like, freakishly good—but tonight? Tonight, he’s on a whole other level. Maybe it’s the weed, maybe it’s the fact that he’s so damn into it, but whatever it is, it’s working, and you’re rapidly losing any semblance of control.

Your mind is a mess of sensations, each flick of his tongue, each gentle suck driving you closer to the edge. You’re not even sure how long he’s been at it—time has lost all meaning, and all you can focus on is the way he’s making you feel. The heat is building, a coil of pleasure tightening in your core, and you know it won’t be long now.

“Clay,” you pant, your voice shaky and breathless. “Oh god, Clayton, I—”

But he’s not stopping. In fact, he’s doubling down, his mouth working you with an intensity that has you trembling, your thighs quivering around his head as he pulls you closer to the brink. You can feel the pleasure building, a tidal wave that’s about to crash over you, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it—not that you’d want to.

And then, just when you think you can’t take it anymore, he moans against you, taking such obvious pleasure in it that the sound vibrates through your entire body, and that’s it. The coil snaps, and you’re free-falling into pure, unadulterated bliss. You cry out, your fingers tightening in his hair as your orgasm crashes over you, wave after wave of pleasure washing through you in a way that leaves you breathless, trembling, and utterly spent.

Clayton doesn’t let up, his mouth working you through your climax with a kind of reverence that makes your heart swell in your chest. He’s not just doing this because he’s high—he’s doing it because he loves it, loves you, and that thought alone is enough to send a fresh wave of warmth flooding through you.

When you finally come down from the high, your body relaxing back into the bed, you realize with a start that Clayton’s still there, still between your legs, nuzzled up to your thigh. He’s breathing hard, his cheeks flushed as if he’s drunk on you along with being stoned, and when he looks up at you, there’s a smug, satisfied grin on his face that makes you want to smack him and kiss him all at once.

You can practically see the gears turning in his head, and despite everything, you can’t help but roll your eyes. The man just gave you the kind of orgasm that makes you question your life choices, and now he’s looking at you like a puppy who’s proud of himself for learning a new trick.

“Clay,” you start, but your voice is weak, more of a croak than the firm reprimand you were aiming for. You should be getting up, throwing on some clothes, and dragging him to dinner with his parents. You should be the responsible one. But you’re not moving. In fact, your legs feel like they’ve turned to jelly, and all you can do is lie there, staring at the ceiling, trying to remember how to function as a human being.

He hums, lazily kissing your inner thigh, clearly not in any hurry to move. You would take him a lot more serious if his lips weren’t glistening, with, well, you. “Yeah, babe?”

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath. He’s still down there, between your legs, like it’s the most natural place in the world for him to be. And maybe it is, but right now, all you can think about is the fact that you have dinner with his parents in, what, forty-five minutes? An hour, if you’re lucky? And here you are, half-naked on the bed, with your high-as-a-kite boyfriend nuzzling your thigh like it’s the most comfortable pillow he’s ever found.

“We really need to get up,” you say, though even you can hear the lack of conviction in your voice.

“Mmm, don’t wanna,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your skin. “Wanna stay right here.”

You let out a groan, not entirely sure if it’s from frustration or the lingering pleasure still coursing through your veins. “Clayton, we have to go to dinner.”

He finally lifts his head, looking up at you with those hazy, love-drunk eyes that make your heart do a ridiculous little flip. “But I’m not done,” he says, as if that’s a perfectly valid excuse for skipping a family dinner.

You blink at him, trying to process what he just said. “Not… done?”

He grins, that boyish, slightly cocky smile that usually precedes him getting his way. “I mean, I could do this all night. I really, really like doing this for you. Makes me feel all… I dunno. Good. Happy.” He’s rambling now, his words tumbling out in a way that’s both endearing and a little infuriating. “You taste so fucking good, babe. Seriously. It’s like… fuck. I don’t even have words for it. I just wanna make you feel good. Again. And again. Until you can’t even think straight.”

Oh, you’re definitely not thinking straight. In fact, you’re pretty sure all coherent thought has flown out the window the moment he started talking about how much he likes going down on you. And the worst part? He’s completely sincere. This isn’t just the weed talking—this is Clayton being his ridiculously sweet, overly affectionate self, and it’s making it really, really hard to be the responsible one.

“Clayton,” you say again, trying to muster up some authority, but it comes out more like a plea than anything else. You should be getting up. You should be dragging him to the shower, dousing him with cold water, and forcing him into some semblance of sobriety before facing his parents. But instead, you’re lying there, letting him nuzzle your thigh, his breath warm against your skin, and all you can think about is how good it felt to have him between your legs, how good it would feel to let him do it again.

But you’re supposed to be the responsible one.

“Babe,” he murmurs, his voice low and a little rough, “please let me. Just one more time. I promise I’ll be good after. I just… I can’t stop thinking about it. You. How you taste. How you look when you come. God, it’s like… it’s the only thing I want right now.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and you have to bite down on your lip to keep from moaning at the sheer desperation in his voice. He’s practically begging, and it’s doing things to you—things that are making it very, very difficult to stay focused on the whole “responsible girlfriend” thing.

You swallow hard, trying to gather your thoughts. “Clay,” you start, but before you can get another word out, he’s already leaning in, pressing his lips to the inside of your thigh in a way that makes your toes curl.

“I’m really good at it, right?” he mumbles against your skin, his voice muffled but still clear enough to make your heart race. “You like it when I do this?”

You want to say something—anything—to stop this before it spirals completely out of control, but all that comes out is a breathy whimper as he trails kisses higher, his tongue darting out to tease you in a way that makes you want to scream.

He grins against your skin, clearly pleased with himself. “Yeah, you like it. I knew it.”

“Clayton, we can’t…” You try again, but it’s a losing battle. Your body is betraying you, every nerve ending screaming for more even as your brain tries to remind you that there’s a dinner reservation looming over your head. But then he’s licking a slow, torturous line up your thigh, and any hope of rational thought flies out the window.

“Just one more time,” he murmurs, his voice soft and coaxing. “Please, babe. I just… I need it. I need you. Let me take care of you, yeah?”

And that’s it. Your resolve crumbles, and you find yourself nodding, even as your brain tries to scream at you that this is a terrible idea. But right now, with Clayton looking at you like you’re the most important thing in the world, you can’t bring yourself to care. This man is thorough, methodical, and once he sets his mind to something, he’s like a dog with a bone—or, in this case, like a stoned hockey player with a serious oral fixation.

“Okay,” you whisper, and the word is barely out of your mouth before he’s diving back in, his mouth hot and insistent as he picks up right where he left off. You’re gasping, your hands flying to his hair as you arch into him, all thoughts of dinner, responsibilities, and anything outside of this room fading into oblivion.

And as he works you over with a kind of focused intensity that leaves you breathless, you can’t help but think that maybe—just maybe—being the responsible one is overrated. At least, that’s what you’re telling yourself as he sends you spiraling into another earth-shattering climax, your mind going blissfully blank as you lose yourself in the overwhelming pleasure.

So much for being responsible. But honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

#utah hockey club #utah hc #Clayton Keller #clayton keller fanfic #clayton keller fic #arizona coyotes #nhl fanfiction #nhl x reader #nhl imagine #hockey fanfiction #ck9 #ck9 fic #ck9 x reader

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bewiiitched · 22 days

Text

⟩ Sex doll (chapter nine)

• author's note: I just can't wait to bring Logan back fjjfdjekwjd all I gonna say is that I'm addicted to clichés.

Warnings: Violence, mentions of torture, blood, powers as drugs, angst, lies, Wade being a idiot.

///////

It's one of the times she decides to visit Althea, where everything starts to go wrong.

It was a day off that she had thought of spending with Logan, but he had gone out with Laura under the pretext of looking for a normal job. His impatience with the mercenary growing more and more every time they were involved in missions, despite the fact that both were impossible to kill, she knew that he felt something similar to concern for the mercenary's carefree behavior, the proof of which being how his yellow suit was always more torn than Wade's, which hid any trace of blood that could stain it.

As much as he didn't want to admit it, their relationship had become closer despite the constant provocations between them, and there was no doubt in the young woman's mind that part of it had been due to the fact that they had both saved the world.

So when she knocks on the apartment door, a slight smile tugs at her lips as she hears the old woman's voice from the other side of the door.

“Althea.” She greets, and hears the woman murmur a greeting in a relieved tone, a complaint about how she finally had some peace now that they were both gone. “Hm? Wade's gone too?”

She asks a bit confused and the first thing she thinks of is how a job search involving the three of them would end.

“Yeah, yeah. Something about a mission with him, and he better be back soon, he promised to bring me more snow.” She grumbles, and though the first thing she notes in her mind is how it was probably a drug gang deal judging by her answer. She can't help the way her heartbeat echoes in her ears as she realizes the situation.

She takes a deep breath out of inertia, thinking there must be a good reason why Logan would lie to her about his whereabouts, but her blood boils despite that, wanting, needing to know what the reason could be for them to have pushed her away. It wasn't a drug gang.

She knows that asking her won't get her anywhere, but she's too anxious to care. “Did they tell you anything about where they went?”

Her voice is tense, and she watches her rummage through the drawers for what is probably cocaine, but she stops when she notices the change in her tone, her frown and her head turning in her direction, following the sound of her voice. “No.”

She answers, but there's a question in her tone, not only because they both know she doesn't get involved in missions anymore, but because she's starting to think the mercenary has tricked her.

She hums in response, her gaze darting around the room but her frustration growing when she sees nothing useful, no clue that could help her figure out what was going on. “He told me he was going with Laura.”

The older woman lets out a huff that ends up cementing her annoyance. “I’m pretty sure handsome there has been here all afternoon until they left. They said something about, ah…my memory isn’t what it used to be, but was it something like fake codeine?”

She murmurs, not sounding entirely sure but her attention is drawn back to her when she hears her choke on her own saliva, something like panic shaking her breath and the only response he gets is the sound of the door slamming shut as she flees the apartment.

(...)

She wants to get rid of the idea, like she wants to crawl out of her skin, the thought that she may find herself wrapped up in the organization again even though she had given up on it. Deep breaths do little to calm her and focus her thoughts, and her frustration only grows when she goes to find the report on her powers that Killebrew had written, detailing the change that had come after the first suppression.

Like a hurricane, she messes up half the room until she rummages through her closet, and the folder where she kept the documents is empty, as are the missing blood samples, the same ones she had stolen from the lab at the risk of them trying to create some experiment on her like they had done with Logan.

The thought of calling the mercenary crosses her mind, because she knows she will have no way of locating him if he is hell-bent on hiding whatever they are planning from her, but she doesn't. And a part of her is worried, pissed off, and scared in equal parts that she is being left out of something that so deeply involves her.

(...)

When Logan returns to the apartment, he instinctively stops at the door frame, the scent of her not going unnoticed by him even though his hearing confirms that there is no one in the house. But the emotional trail she left behind overwhelms him for a moment before he enters, and it is not until he steps into the room they now share that he curses under his breath, pillows on the floor, blankets unfolded and the closet door is open with the hangers moved to the side, revealing the space where her chart was supposed to be.

And her blood.

He realizes that she must have left in the same hurry that she entered, but he has little time to analyze the situation further when he notices the presence of the mercenary approaching the apartment and goes to the living room, opening the door before he has a chance to knock.

There is frustration written on the mutant's face, his jaw clenched as if he were going to stab the mercenary with the same daggers that his gaze sends in his direction. “You said she wouldn't notice.”

He growls, and his hand wraps itself in the fabric of Wade's suit, close to grabbing him by the throat, Wade raises his hands in a peaceful gesture, but the nervousness is evident in his tone. “She hasn't! She doesn't know anything yet!

His nostrils flare, and he feels stupid, just as stupid as he felt the first time the mercenary made "an educated wish" about saving his universe, but this time they both share the blame,

And he can't shake off the feeling that his body is tingling at the thought of not knowing where or what the female is thinking. Worry eats away at him, and the mercenary's attempts to appease him are not few.

"Her first instinct has always been to runaway, so if she's looking for answers she can't be too far away.”

(...)

Even though the vast majority of the project staff had been killed by Deadpool in his attempt to find answers about Ajax's whereabouts, in a larger scheme the female knew that the lab work hadn't been done alone, just as Killebrew had collaborated with more scientists when it came to running the project even though they weren't nothing permanent.

However, her first step is to try to find out what they had been investigating, so she keeps a low profile, and he hopes that at least part of what the mercenary had told Althea was true and that it was a drug issue. Hours of questions and frustrations pass until she finally gets something, and she doesn't know whether to laugh or cry because the "fake codeine" hasn't spread so openly through the streets.

What she gets is not much, and she finds herself not so kindly questioning two pairs of dealers who had confessed to receiving the substance in previous days, when she makes out a figure approaching them.

She glances sideways, still holding the gun in the direction of the guy she doesn't have a hold of, while the one she does corner throws nervous glances at his partner. "I don't know anything else. I-If you're a policeman, we're only in charge of delivering."

He justifies himself defensively, and the young woman notices his accelerated heartbeat, giving him a condescending look. It’s then that she feels the phone vibrate in her purse and she doesn’t need to know who it’s from.

“Who are you getting this from?” she hisses, losing her patience, and the gun turns in his direction when she sees him shake his head.

But it’s neither of them who answers, and her gaze turns in the direction of the voice. “A mental institution outside the city.”

He’s a homeless man, and she knows from the way his body shakes that he’s been under the effects of her power, her stomach churning at the thought, how his body is receptive to something he can’t understand.

“Get out of here.” She growls, letting go of the man and they both run away. There’s wariness evident in her gaze, she can see the hunger, the need for stimulation, and she doesn’t want to wonder how the man deduces that she’s the source of his addiction. “Where else?”

“There’s a shelter a few blocks back. I can take you there.” He answers, and her eyes follow him, watching him look around urgently. She can’t tell if the urge he suffers is from the stimulation of her power or the lack of it.

Reluctantly, she nods, but when she lets him come closer, she knocks him out, gently placing him on the ground before calling an ambulance. Her mind, however, is elsewhere.

She gives the address of the place, but there is no sign of her when the ambulance arrives and has set off to reach the outskirts of the city, when she checks her calls she can see Wade’s number being her last call and decides to turn it off.

If her hunch was right, the shelter would be nothing more than a mere test to see the effects of her power. The institution, however, the place where they would all end up when the situation became problematic.

It was never her main purpose in the project, but in retrospect she realizes perhaps the only reason she hadn't ended up killed by Ajax, is because they needed something more from her, that they had something more useful that made the rivalry between her and Ajax take a backseat.

(...)

It's all darkness when she arrives at the place. And the feeling of unease only grows when she sees the suburb in which it is located, and she can swear that whatever they are doing in the shelters of the city, it is just a whim to not attract attention, since the area guaranteed them enough people with whom they could experiment.

Getting past the security personnel is easier than expected, the guard who watches the door for obvious reasons does not expect to see a girl alone at 4 am.

“Stop there, sweetheart. This is private property. Can I help you?” He asks, but the concern is short-lived when a blow to the back of his head against the wall makes him fall and drags him where the cameras can't capture him.

The buzz of the door opening puts her on alert, even more so when the sound contrasts with the deathly silence of the place. Part of her knows that it had been a misplaced hope to think that the project had come to an end. For lack of another way to describe them they were like cockroaches multiplying, and as long as there was an idea left to profit from, Weapon X would form again.

Her gaze travels to the reception area, which is empty, and continues until she sees the sign that identifies each floor of the building.

Her senses pick up a second heartbeat and she is quick to hide behind a wall, the sound of approaching footsteps makes her react and her hand is placed over the mouth of the nurse, who looks at her frightened, and the situation only intensifies when she can see the recognition in her gaze. A turn and she is cornered against the wall, hand on her neck squeezing hard enough to restrict her airflow. “My blood, where they hide It?”

Her tone is demanding, and her gaze follows her hand, watching her make the sign of two. Being right is far from comforting, and being recognized is like receiving a kick in the stomach. As tempted as she is to knock her out and get a problem off her chest, she decides to drag her along with her.

And she pulls a syringe from her pocket, which she places at her throat.

“If you lie to me, you’re going to join them.” She threatens, her eyes focused on the young girl writhing under her grip. And she shakes her head dramatically, making her squint. “What’s your name?”

“M-Mary.” she answers in a shaky voice now that the pressure on her neck has lessened.

“You know me.” And it’s not a question, the girl gulps, a soft nod in response before her grip tightens again in warning. “Tell me everything.”

(...)

Despite having been in the project since before Francis was enhanced. Suspicions about the organization didn’t come until she herself began visiting the lab as something more than just to keep the patients in line. She was the only mutant, and her powers didn’t need any enhancement, but the original purpose for which she had agreed to be part of them.

Her reluctance to torture hadn't gone entirely unnoticed, and before she could realize it, Ajax was positioned over her, like a wolf stalking cattle after her powers were contained. Her fluids as an object of study that never yielded answers, too busy with torture and missions to have time to question herself.

But the questions come back to her as she reaches some kind of lab, she didn't expect to get too much information out of the nurse but she needed to know where to move before she was discovered. Years of being forced to ask and then hit hadn't quite contained her nature, hit and then ask.

As the nurse had said, she manages to get her file out of one of the drawers, puts it away among her clothes, her attention returning to the fridge that holds her blood samples and at first she grimaces at the amount. She had never visited the lab so many times to generate such a quantity.

It's no surprise to her that her blood is being used as a stimulant, it is, however, that it continues to have an effect even when her powers aren't being used over the victim.

“It took you a while to come out of hiding, my dear.” A laugh follows the man’s voice as he barely speaks half a sentence before the young woman’s gun is pointed in his direction, her enhanced senses kicking in and suddenly the idea of killing sounds more tempting. Her gaze is fixed on him, and the nurse retreats after a condescending gesture from the man. “Pulling the trigger won’t get you answers.”

His voice is calm, but the image he’s trying to create contrasts with the doctor she knows, and she can tell the stress has taken its toll on Killebrew’s face but he takes her silence as a sign to keep talking. “Killing us won’t be the end. You should know that after how it ended last time. You joined us to control your powers, and you succeeded.”

The sound of the gun going off-safety echoes through the room.

“Yeah.” It’s the only thing she says before a bullet rips through the doctor’s knee, the scream echoing through the halls as she sees the man curse and writhe in pain, she sees him pull back as she approaches until she kneels in front of him. “But I never asked to go around torturing people.”

“You had a purpose. You still do, don’t be stupid.” He growls through his teeth, bringing his hand over the wounded area and paling at the bleeding, as his pants soon turn crimson.

“My purpose ends with Logan.” She answers without hiding her rage in her voice, and her grip on the gun tightens when her senses pick up footsteps approaching in a hurry, she decides to go the peaceful way, and quickly dodges the guard who enters the room, sliding across the floor and twisting his arm behind his back before kicking his partner in the stomach, making him hunch over. Keeping him by the arm she pushes him against the other, making them both fall and pointing the gun again.

“The addiction,” she begins, looking at Killebrew. “It shouldn’t develop without my powers, what the fuck have you done?”

She asks, frowning and remembering the multiple tortures, how she had believed that the effects of her power had been something temporary, that physical contact was nothing more than the match that lit the gasoline that was her blood, and yet, they were wearing her down without her being involved.

The idea of being compared to codeine was confusing on its own, being that her power had always been more about stimulating the nerves to control the various sensations rather than numbing.

“It alters the neurochemistry of the brain,” He explains and her brow furrows even more, her jaw clenched as she tries to maintain her composure and not spread red on the white walls. “Nerve control gives you power, but your fluids guarantee your survival. As a mother secretes hormones that bond her with her newborn, they will not want to kill the hand that feeds them. They crave stimulation, before you can even choose what to do they become addicted to whatever you offer them through your blood.”

Suddenly her mission with Logan makes sense, not just because he had been able to harm her while under her power, which she had blamed on how his regeneration healed his nerves constantly preventing a control that lasted.

“You think it will susceed?” She mocks, shooting his shoulder this time eliciting another scream and sees the two men tense, but ends all initiative to move when he turns the gun on them again.

Despite the pain, the expression on the doctor's face makes it clear that he is underestimating the addictiveness of her fluids and she can feel her stomach turning.

(...)

The whole situation gives her goosebumps, now that her clothes are covered in blood she has little interest in thinking about the consequences when all she can think about is whether the victims would suffer long-term damage. As if it were possible the hallways are even more silent despite the sound of gunshots, and there is not a soul to be found despite the fact that the building is not small.

Her mind turns over the contents of her file as well as Killebrew's words, and for the third time, she feels her phone vibrate against her hip.

"What?" She picks up without hiding her annoyance, keeping her gun in the other hand she continues advancing through the hallways, and rolls her eyes when she hears the mercenary's apology. "Fuck you. “ she spits, and the concern she hears in his tone for her safety only pisses her off more, it’s the last thing she cared about at the moment. “You had no right to keep it from me, Wilson.”

“I know!” He replies, his tone slightly higher for emphasis. “I thought- I thought it would be quicker if we took care of it ourselves, while you continued to ruin your life commuting from work to home.” He knows his attempt at a joke isn’t appreciated, but he still tries to get her to tell him where the hell she is. “Please, please, tell me you’re not doing something stupid.”

For a moment she falls silent, because it’s not exactly wise to have walked into a place alone that profited from her powers and wouldn’t kill her because they needed her fluids.

She stops dead when she hears footsteps approaching, and by inertia she leans against the wall, watching out of the corner of her eye two nurses cross the hallway carrying a stretcher with a woman who did not look in good condition at all.

“Tell me where you are”

“Saint Helen psychiatric hospital.”

(...)

However, when they both arrive there is no trace of her, and all attempts to locate her are useless when before leaving she had abandoned her phone, leaving it on the chair in the reception area.

On the other hand, the silence in the place is even more overwhelming when as they explore following her trail there is nothing but blood and corpses of the personnel involved, to the surprise of the mercenary, including the lifeless body of Killebrew. The patient's rooms are no exception, since there is no sound and in the place it could be noticed how they had been forced into unconsciousness.

"It was her." The mutant murmurs, scanning the room, by the persistence of the smell he could assume that she had not left long ago, but that did nothing to relieve him.

"You're a genius, peanut, is there nothing else your Scooby doo nose can tell us?" He hisses frustrated, and steps back slightly at Logan's growl, the concern of both makes the tension return, and this time his thoughts are focused on her rather than on avoiding a beating by the mutant.

“The man said they were spreading it around the streets...” he begins, glancing at the mercenary out of the corner of his eye, but his brow furrows as he sees him abruptly exit the room. “Hey.”

He calls out to him, only to be ignored and reluctantly follows him, watching him enter the room where the doctor’s corpse was located. But before he can stand in the doorway, the mercenary speaks. “What do you smell when you’re in front of him?”

“What?” he asks out of inertia, frowning as he wrinkles his nose, the whole place reeked of stress, but it wasn’t easy to pinpoint the cause.

“I think she’s trying to relieve them. Like she did to me in the lab. He has signs of torture, see the stiffness in his body?” he asks, bringing his gloved hand to his jaw and though trying to understand him, Logan just looks at him as if he were stupid.

“He’s dead. Of course he's ten-”

“No.” He cuts him off, emphasizing the denial as he points to the corpses of the guards. “She killed him with her power, probably tortured him trying to figure out how to fix the rest.”

That catches Logan's attention, and he kneels in front of the corpse, squinting as he notices how the muscles on the man's body are much stiffer compared to the two men, and it's because of the proximity that he notices the blood staining his lips. “I don't use just pain.”

“Yeah. I think that was evident from the stain on his pants, I bet the remaining blood went elsewhere before he died.” The sarcasm in his voice stops and quickly when they hear hurried footsteps in the hallway and both become alert, but Logan is faster in approaching the door and intercepting the woman who was fleeing.

“ Woah, woah, calm down, blondie. ” Wade intervenes when he sees her struggle with the mutant, and the dismay in her expression is clear, as is the blood on her clothes.

“ What happened? ” Logan asks, frowning and standing in front of the door to cover the corpse of the doctor who had been staring so intently.

“ She tried to cure the affected. I told her it wouldn't work, but she didn't listen to me and then she tried to cure that man but d-died, she lost control. ” she stammers, swallowing saliva when she remembers it. As if she could still see the panic expression on her face as the old man's body fell at her feet, the blinding rage that preceded Killebrew's cries of pain.

“Fuck.” Logan curses under his breath, and he can feel Wade tense beside him, as if he’s remembering something.

However, the young woman continues to recount the situation. “I tried to get help, but she locked me in the bathrooms.” She answers in a firm voice, shuddering slightly under the mutant’s gaze.

“They’re unconscious. What does that mean?”

“It’s just temporary relief. Their blood, it creates an addiction process.” and from the expression on both of their faces, she can tell they’re aware of that fact. “Their powers create the stimulus they become addicted to. But in the absence of it, they tried to replicate it through normal means, and it worked.”

“Now, that’s just great, now you have a group of masochistic drug addicts.” He grumbles, and ignores the exasperated look the mutant gives him. “Is there really no solution?” ”

Logan's brow furrows even more as she sees her deny it. “No, it's not a nervous problem that she can fix, it's damage to the brain and the withdrawal syndrome that they get when they stop using it is even worse, the addiction weakes, but by becoming addicted to the pain, they end up not measuring the damage they cause themselves and put their lives at risk.”

/////////

Taglist: @bontensbabygirl @twinky-wink

#deadpool 3 #deadpool and wolverine #mutant!reader #wolverine smut #logan howlett #logan howlett smut #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you

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hathorneheiress · 4 months

Text

Midnight cuddles

Avery's POV

The wind howled fiercely as the doors to my outside patio shook with each gust of wind.

Hurricane Ivy was surely making her mark in meteorology history. of that I was confident.

Living in Connecticut almost all my life, I wasn't used to the extreme weather with now living in Texas.

Pulling the oversized comforter tighter around me I tried to relax in the very comfortable king-sized bed. Jameson had disappeared. Again.

The fact that my boyfriend disappeared once almost every 2 weeks wasn't too concerning. He always came back.

But tonight was different. The wild storm playing outside the doors did nothing to calm my nerves as I tried, and failed, to calm myself that Jameson was perfectly fine. Wearever the hell he was. My boyfriend lived for danger and thrills. Risks and dares were a second language to him. And I'd have to admit, sometimes for myself.

And then, as if summoned by some unholy magic, Jameson walked in soaked from head to toe.

"Are you alright?" I asked immediately sitting up.

"Are you actually worried about me?" Jameson Hawthorne flashed me his signature smirk.

"Of course I am." I replied indignantly. "If you weren't so reckless I wouldn't have to worry so much."

"But I thought that is what you liked about me Heiress?"

"You being stupid?"

"No. My fearlessness."

"Oh you're fearless alright."

"But the question is are you fearless Heiress?" He gave a devilish smile as he advanced toward the bed.

"Very. But don't you dare get on the bed all soaked. I don't feel like getting wet.

Jameson gave a fake pout.

I giggled. "Get changed, then we'll see."

A few minutes Jameson came back with no shirt and just dark blue sweat pants. His hair was stick dripping wet, but he was longer criminally close to get everything wet.

Crawling up beside me, he snaked his lanky arm around my waist pulling me in. I allowed it.

"So, where were you?" I had to ask.

"Went for a walk."

"In the rain?"

"Sometimes I need to do that."

"You can always talk to me if you need to."

"I know." He squeezed me while kissing me on the cheek. "You smell good."

"And you smell like rain and dirt."

"So I'm guessing I don't smell good."

"Not really. But that's ok. I still love you." It was my turn to kiss him.

"And I love you too."

"Really? Even when I annoy you?"

"You never annoy me."

I gave him a look.

"Ok, maybe a little. But I mean it Heiress. I love you. And it's not just for you're looks or smart brain. I love you're determination and willingness to help others. To stand up for yourself and pure heart. And mostly for putting up with me."

He paused for a breath and I took that moment to pull him in and passionately kiss him. He returned it heartily. Running my hand through his hair we stayed there for several minutes.

So invested we were that we didn't hear the sound of a camera going off. Looking up in shock we saw Xander standing there with his phone out.

"What are you doing in here?!" Jameson was outraged. "There is something called knocking."

"I did. No one answered. And I can see why." Xander gave a smirk.

"What do you need?" I wanted smack Xander so hard.

"I was seeing Jameson was finally home. Nash was worried about him. I see he is. I have proof."

"Don't you dare." Jameson looked like he was going to murder Xander.

"Dare what?" he asked innocently. "Send this to Nash and Grayson? Opps! I did!"

Jameson was up in an instant. "Alexander Blackwood Hawthorne! You get back here right now!" He threatened as Xander ran out of the room in top speed.

As mortified as I should have been, I wasn't. I laughed falling back on the pillows.

Just another night at Hawthorne House.

This is for all the AveryJameson fans out there.

Scroll down for a funny bonus part with all the brothers.

Bonus part

Nash's phone dinged five times.

"what the heck?" He thought. It was 12 in the morning. Grayson would never text him this late and Jameson usually was with Avery. So he guessed it must have come from Xander. And he was right.

He was greeted with a very in criminating photo of Avery and Jameson passionately kissing. Underneath Xander wrote:

"Jameson is home!"

"With Avery!"

"I found them like this"

Nash shook his head. There was no privacy in Hawthorne House. Ironic, since it was a massive place.

He replied. "Xander, get out of there. That is none of you're business."

A text quickly came back.

Xander: "Help!! Jameson is going to murder me!"

He mush have sent it as a group text because a text from Grayson came through.

"Good for him. Saves me from doing it."

Xander: "NOT NICE!!!"

"Alright, you 2 stop." Even texting Nash was having to keep them from killing each other.

"Xander deserves it!" Jameson had now joined the chat.

Xander: "I do not! I promise I didn't send it to anyone else.. Stop chasing me.

Grayson: You're texting while running?

Xander: YES"

Grayson: Stop being stupid.

Jameson: Yeah Xander. Stop doing stupid things.

Grayson: I was talking to both of you."

Nash decided he needed to join in before it got any worse.

Nash: ALRIGHT! You all stop. Jameson stop chasing Xander. Xander stop taking photos of people without their permission. And Grayson.. well, stop making things worse by being yourself.

Grayson: I'm going to pretend you didn't just insult me. I'm leaving.

Jameson: Good! We didn't want you here anyways.

Nash: Jamie shut up.

Jameson was quiet, so Nash guessed he finally gave up with Xander.

Just another night at Hawthorne Hous

#the inheritance games #the brothers hawthorne #the hawthorne legacy #the final gambit #grayson hawthorne #jameson hawthorne #nash hawthorne #xander hawthorne #avery grambs #the grandest game #Brothers #cuddles #texting while running

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spideyanakin · 1 year

Text

10 Things I Hate About you - Chapter 5

Eddie Munson x Harrington!reader

synopsis - A new rule strikes the Harrington household: if Steve wishes to date ever again, his sister needs to find a boyfriend first. As Steve becomes desperate and thinks of everything in his power to set her up, only one guy comes to mind that will take up a challenge such as that: Eddie Munson.

warnings - way too much fluff, ties in with season 1 (rip Barb), talks about Eddie's past (so trigger warning?), lotr references, one lil suggestive moment, angst if you squint

word count - 14.5k

Proof read by the amazing @inknopewetrust

series masterlist 🌻

the playlist

There was not a time in your life where you once believed you would feel like a main character in one of those cheesy romantic comedies your mom liked to watch on Friday nights.

Never did you think you would close the door to your house with a dumb smile plastered across your lips and a lovesick sigh would proceed to tumble from your body as your bag slid from your shoulder to find its spot beside the umbrella rack. You bit your lip, leaning against the white wood of your entry door in a daze.

Never did you think that the warm fuzzy feeling the young female lead always described would be coursing through your veins, astonished in the best of ways when the images of today flashed through your mind. Was this how Juliet felt when she first met Romeo at that masked ball? You felt dizzy; light and floating at the same time. Your fingers traveled by themselves to your lips as the ghost of his own haunted your thoughts.

What had just happened?

Eddie fucking Munson.

That's not what, but who.

The crazy metalhead who turned out to be the most amazing person you had ever set your eyes on. The one who would play torturous games of tags with teachers and spend half of his life getting detentions he never stepped foot in.

That boy had come into your life like a hurricane. Ravaging every single one of your well thought out plans and everything you had seemed to set your mind on only to leave everything in the dust to be swept away with the wind. It only left you to become helplessly and hopelessly submerged by his existence.

"Y/n?" Your mom's wavering voice came from the kitchen, "Darling, is that you?" You could hear her footsteps on the colored carpet coming toward the entryway.

"Yeah, mom, it's me."

"Oh my God! Where were you?" She sighed out, voice cracking in relief.

"Out?" You said, nonchalantly as if you did it often and it wasn’t unusual. Slipping your shoes beside the door, you wiggled your socked feet out and kicked your shoes perfectly against the wall before walking the few steps towards the kitchen archway.

She was already halfway to you. Half of her hair stuck in bright pink and yellow hot rollers, her pink cotton shirt falling off one shoulder and worry creases marked between her eyebrows. Her makeup done up and her eyes in a personified version of panic.

Behind her, Steve sat on the counter with an unbothered gaze and a glass of orange juice between his fingers. He was fixing a strand of hair falling on his forehead before he took a sip of his juice. You noticed your father next to him, facing you with a stern look in his eyes. He was well dressed in his best polo and white dress pants.

It was obvious your parents were getting ready to go somewhere and you were a stickler in their evening plans.

"Never do this to us again," your mother took a bated breath before continuing on. Her shaking hands reach for you to wrap her arms around your shoulders.

"O-ok?"

"Where were you?"

"I told you she was out with her boyfriend!" Steve smirked in between two sips. You glared at him from behind your mother’s shoulder before pulling away.

"I was out with a friend," you corrected. A friend which you had just kissed. But none of that mattered by the way your mother kept her hands on your shoulders and that crease between her brows only deepened, fighting the urge to fall into the panic that had been brewing for hours.

"What happened?" You scanned your mother's face, attempting to clarify the situation.

"You didn't come home after class and with that Byers boy disappearing–"

"Mom,” you interjected. “I'm fine."

"But you could have not been! We don't know what happened to Joyce’s boy and if someone’s out there snatching up–"

"Mom,” you stressed again. “I was with someone. Nothing could have happened to me."

And she frowned as your words sunk in, sighing and gripping your shoulder tighter and tighter until all of her weight was on you and the pressure was enough to make a bone ache. It was the worry of a mother.

"I was worried sick."

"I'm fine. Trust me,” you nodded, slipping out of her arms to go grab a glass of orange juice for yourself.

“Why is your hair wet?” Steve narrowed his eyes on you. He was poking around for insights on his plan and hoping that your parents would see you were up to something.

“We went paintballing and I took a shower.”

“What do you mean ‘we?’” Your father raised an eyebrow.

“Her and her boyfriend,” Steve sang.

“Boyfriend?”

“Well…it’s not like we’ve labeled anything–”

“I KNEW IT!” Steve pointed his finger at you.

“Steve-”

“Well, I’m glad you're home safe,” your father continued, too tired to go further into this conversation. “Both of our kids are home safe… Now, shall we finish getting ready? We also have our suitcases to prepare for tomorrow,” he turned his attention to your mother.

“Where are you guys going tonight?”

“Enzo’s.”

“Ah ok,” you nodded before opening the cupboard and grabbing the first glass that fell between your fingers; an old mustard glass from when you were a kid. The white cat from Disney’s Aristocats was painted on it. You took a short glance at it only to notice the tail was starting to fade off from the amount of times you’d used and washed it. “I might be going to the search.”

“Search?”

“The search for Will Byers. Half of the town is going,” you placed the glass on the counter before reaching for the orange juice carton next to Steve.

"Is that ‘boyfriend’ of yours coming with you?" Your father further questioned.

"Nope," you shook your head, hoping your smile would be enough to shove the subject away.

"I don’t like you going alone."

"As I said, there's a whole party going. Chief Hopper included."

Your father thought for a second, pursing his lips before nodding. “Don’t come home too late.”

“Sure, yeah, of course.”

"Well,” Steve slipped off the counter and winked at you as he turned to put his glass in the sink. “I’m going to Nancy’s to study.”

"You're going to who's?" The surprise in your father’s voice was evident.

"Steve’s new love interest," you took a sip, excited to see the arguments your brother would throw at your dad.

“Potential new love interest!” He corrected you.

"Steve-"

"You said I could date when she does!" He raised his hands in innocence before slithering his way out of the room like a cheeky cat who had just captured the mouse. "Rules are rules, Dad."

“I don’t have time for this,” your father pinched the bridge of his nose and gave you one last look as if to tell you 'be safe' before turning around on his heels and exiting the kitchen, your mother following behind with not another word spoken.

“Rumor is,” Tommy beamed as he approached Carol and Steve, wrapping an arm around her shoulder–a large smirk plastered on his face, “the Freak and your sister are dating.”

“I KNEW IT!” Steve threw his fist in the air in victory. “She came back home late yesterday after a totally not date with him.” Steve chewed on his bubble gum as he spoke, excitement rising in his chest at the idea. Everything was finally going according to plan, he grinned, looking around the bright hallway for any signs of you. He unfortunately didn’t spot you in the multitude of heads bopping around the corridor and turned his attention back to his friends.

“How’d you know?”

“People spotted them together in the hallway this morning before class. They kissed apparently.”

“This is actually going well,” Carol chuckled. “Who would have thought?”

“Not me,” Tommy laughed.

“Damn,” Steve scoffed in surprise. He hadn’t expected for the plan to go that well, but He sure as shit could finally go out with Nancy now and that was all that mattered.

On the other end of the hallway, hidden by the sea of students, Eddie had been waiting for you. Leaning on the wall by the door to Mrs. Click’s class, ee was toying with the chain attached to his jeans as he blankly stared at the little window opening. He could spot Mrs. Click bright red curls poking atop her head as she moved around the board. Eddie could almost hear the loud thud of her giant ruler colliding with whatever she had written on the board, continuing to go on about whatever country she had been rambling about. He thought this would forever be a trauma sound; anchored into his mind, doomed to haunt him every time he saw a world map.

Finally, after what felt like a hellish eternity, the door opened and there you were: angelic as ever as you fixed your grip on your bag and pulled your walkman out of your back pocket.

Eddie pushed himself off of the wall. He met your gaze as he got closer and wished he could permanently tattoo in his brain the smile that lit your features when you spotted him. His whole being buzzed with happiness as you strutted over and gave his cheek a peck. Eddie hummed in appreciation before you wrapped arm around his waist and his fell over your shoulder.

It quickly became obvious that the onslaught of students would make walking like a pair more difficult. So as fast as your limbs had found purchase on the other, they left and returned to their homes at the sides of your bodies.

“What tape did you bring today?” He asked, bumping his shoulder into yours instead.

“Rebel Yell.”

“Of course you listen to Billy Idol,” he chuckled.

“And of course you wouldn’t,” you gave him your best smile. “Let me guess, it isn't metal enough for you?”

“Bullseye” Eddie pretended to throw a dart, a popping sound emitting from his lips as he let the imaginary dart go and it hit the red center.

“Well, I like Billy Idol very much,” you placed the walkman back in your pocket with the headphones now resting safely on your shoulders.

"How was the search?" Eddie changed the subject but instantly felt the shift in the conversation. You frowned before answering. He shouldn’t have asked. He should have listened to the gossip of the table beside him at lunch but he couldn’t help it. He was just as invested as everyone else.

"Led absolutely nowhere," you sighed. You allowed yourself to melt closer to him as you held your notebooks tighter against your chest. "I just hope nothing bad has happened to him. He’s a good, quiet kid.”

Eddie came to a halt in the hallway and made you stop with him. He turned you around so you’d face him, taking your free hand in his.

"Hey, look, I'm sure he's going to be alright," he took a breath and rubbed your knuckles with his thumb. "Plus they're continuing the search today, they have to find him. This is a small town, and nothing bad ever happens in Hawkins."

"Yeah," you nodded, “I guess you’re right,” you did your best to try and sound hopeful, but the pit at the bottom of your stomach wouldn't budge. You looked up from your red history notebook to find Eddie’s bright eyes staring right back–making you feel just a little bit better.

"C'mon," Eddie nudged you, keeping his hand locked in yours. “Let’s get to class.”

You sighed as you continued your walk through the hall. You were so caught up in the multitude of possibilities as to where Will Byers could be that you didn't think twice about the way Eddie was holding your hand.

In the meantime, Eddie couldn't believe that his fingers were intertwined with yours in the middle of the fucking Hawkins High hallway. He couldn't believe that he was walking with the girl of his dreams by his side and that she was not giving a care in the world about the lingering eyes and odd stares. Eddie had tried to convince himself that this morning had all been a dream. That you hadn’t jumped to hug him the second you met his eyes that morning or that you hadn’t pecked his lips before rushing off into Mr. Davis’ classroom. But the fact that your hand was indeed securely locked in his own made him know this was very much real.

He could hear the patter of his heart climbing up to his ears just thinking about it all.

But the dreamy reality quickly crushed when he spotted Steve's fluffy head of hair. He suddenly remembered that two weeks ago he wasn't even sure of your name. That not even two weeks ago he hadn’t had a clue that you were this amazing girl of his dreams that would make him feel this way. Two weeks ago he would have laughed at the face of anyone that would tell him he was on the road to falling in love. That he was practically sure he had met his soulmate and was utterly captivated in a two-week time frame which seemed so ridiculous.

The closer the both of you became to Steve, the more he wanted to throw up.

"Oh my God," your voice brought him back.

"What?"

"I cannot believe Steve got his grip on Nancy so quickly," you squeezed his hand tighter and Eddie did too. Perhaps the fear of losing you had iced his veins because the words that left your lips felt too real. Of course Steve would be seen with Nancy. It was the entire point as to why he had paid Eddie in the first place. Now that he had the girl, it felt too likely that Steve would drop the deal and Eddie could try and see how he would go from there.

"What do you mean?" He played dumb.

"Well, now that I've been hanging out with you more, Steve is using this as a ‘get out of jail free’ card."

"Ah,"

"A party?" you heard Nancy squeak. "But it's Wednesday."

"C'mon it will be just a small gathering," Steve gave her a dazzling smile.

"Well, look who it is!" Tommy Hagen cheered with a bright smirk and you closed your eyes in despair. Of course they had to call you. Carol leaned into Tommy’s shoulder as she eyed you and Eddie up and down, a sly smirk on her lips at the sight.

The hair on Eddie's arm spiked as Tommy's voice traveled up to his ears. He straightened himself up, bracing for the snarky remarks or comments that always came out of his mouth.

Steve turned around at the distraction. And rather than jeer like Carol and Tommy, he was rather happy to be met with yours and Eddie's faces. He was beaming an even brighter smile when he saw your intertwined hands but you quickly slipped yours out of Eddie's before he or his dumb friends could even think of commenting.

Eddie felt his heart plummet back to his shoes at the security that left him.

"Y/n, you should invite Eddie," Steve pointed to Eddie as if to say ‘this is Eddie, this is who I am referring to’.

"Invite him to what?"

"Our party! Tonight!"

"Party?” You narrowed your eyes at him. “Steve, you can’t just throw a party just because Mom and Dad are gone. What about-"

"-It’s just a small gathering. Just us seven."

"Steve-"

"Eddie, you coming?" Steve cut you off before you could say anything.

Eddie’s eyes widened. He looked confused, scared, in the slightest. He was never invited to the small gatherings of popular kids. He had no idea what it would even be. And in the small gatherings he would do with his friends, they played D and D and smoked and listened to records or tested new music. They had a reason to meet up, something to discuss.

"Um, yeah… sure?" He side eyed you, and you stared daggers back. He could tell this was annoying you more than you were leading on.

"Good," Steve clapped his hands.

"Oh and bring some stuff," Tommy smirked before patting Eddie's shoulder, Eddie tensing up at the touch.

"Alright," he awkwardly chuckled back, finding your gaze to seek any kind of help you could get from you.

"This is going to be amazing," Tommy rubbed his hands together, grinning from ear to ear, as if he could boss Eddie around and use him just to get some free drugs.

"No, it’s not,” your tone may have been a bit too dry because every head turned towards you. You gave an uneasy look to Eddie before swallowing and continuing with the rest of your sentence. “because he is not going to bring anything, and we're not coming to this stupid party," you pinched the bridge of your nose, "Steve–can you please just leave us alone for five seconds."

"Never," he almost looked offended upon the request, putting a dramatic hand across his chest. “Y/n, you're my sister. It’s my job to annoy you.”

A beat fell upon the group. Steve rolled his eyes and crossed his arms around his chest while you huffed. Sibling banter hanging thickly through the air and no one really knowing how to make it go away. Everyone knew both of the Harrington siblings were headstrong, each more stubborn than the other.

It was an entrancing silence only either of you could break. Your eyes drifting towards Barb, she was looking at Nancy uneasily as she fixed her grip on her pink spiral notebook.

"You two are coming?" You questioned, your soft words slithering through the tension and making it evaporate into a mere memory.

"Yes!" Nancy beamed shyly. Barb looked as though she wanted to melt from the spotlight behind her and become one with the squeaky white hallway floors.

Nancy was about to continue, speak to something else but Tommy abruptly cut her off. "My god that's depressing," Everyone’s curiosity took the better of them and followed Tommy’s gaze towards whatever he was looking at behind Nancy.

Johnathan Byers.

The Byers boy was awkwardly standing, a grim look on his face as he pinned a missing persons poster of his little brother on the board amongst the collection of theater posters and recruiting sheets of random clubs and sports teams.

You and Nancy looked at each other. Her sympathy bled from her hands. She was a good person and somewhere, you’d like to believe you were too even in your stubbornness.

"We should go and say something," she said hesitantly but steadfastly to do so.

"I don't think he speaks," Carol raised an eyebrow.

"I bet he killed him," Tommy snickered.

It made you sick. Jonathan’s pain was evident. You saw it in Dustin, you saw it in the boys he had grown so close with… Surely Mike had been upset in the Wheeler house which made Nancy more attune as well. But the fact that Tommy could assume such a thing about a boy, barely a man and no older than the lot of you, made you sick.

And you wished you hadn’t dropped Eddie’s hand for the sake of comfort.

Will Byers.

If there was a level of sweetness to rank the young boys of Hawkins, Indiana, Dustin would reign supreme but Will Byers would always be fighting for that spo. You figured that if he had disappeared into thin air and most of the town didn’t even think to care. Surely enough that assumption came true. Instead, you had people like Steve who only cared about making out with a pretty girl and throwing a dumb party on a school night and girls like Tammy Thompson who were too busy handing out neon pink flyers for the Spring Fling.

All the while people like Joyce and Johnathan Byers were being ridiculed for caring about their smallest joy disappearing.

It all seemed ridiculous.

Ridiculous that not only Steve and his dumb friends, but most of Hawkins, were only thinking about themselves and what mattered in their lives. If it was a kid from the right side of the tracks, some neighborhood like Nancy lived in, everyone would be looking. There would be vigils and strange prayer groups in hopes that the kid would return.

It made the grip you had on your bag tighter, knuckles going white as your nails dug into your palm.

You truly hoped he was ok.

Because if he wasn’t, you didn't know how you could handle seeing Dustin grieve for his closest friend or how you would be able to compose yourself from the pain.

Those thoughts of Jonathan and where Will may be plagued you for the rest of the day. At your locker, you had been lost in a train of thought. The idea of Dustin being sad and the town forgetting a kind kid made your mind swirl.

"Boo!" Two hands were draped over your shoulder, making you jolt out of your thoughts and your heart beat out of your chest. You only relaxed when a familiar laughter echoed behind you, turning around to be met with Eddie's mischevious grin.

"You have to stop doing that!" You playfully slapped his shoulder in return.

"Doing what?"

"Scaring me like this!"

"Come on,” he careened, “you love it and you know it’s fun.”

"Not for me," you bumped your shoulder into his as he had done that morning. This time, Eddie slung his arm around your shoulder and walked with you towards the parking lot.

A rainbow of cars were parked as always; jocks at the wheels of their brand new convertibles while girls sat at the back, swooning over their million dollar smiles. It was the same every day and would always be the same every year. For god knows how long, the same archetypes would run the halls of Hawkins High and the same things would happen over and over again for generations to come. The same crown prince would date the crowned princess while bullying the misfits.

You wondered if the embroiled, eternal circle of Hell would ever come to an end.

"What are you going to do before the... small gathering?" Eddie’s voice felt relaxing amongst the crowd.

"I need to drop off Dustin at his friend's place and then homework, probably. If Steve allows me some peace. How about you?"

"Walk home… then attempt to read Romeo and Juliet."

"Oh my god! Is Eddie Munson finally going to do this homework!? Oh my god, even better, am I rubbing off on you?”

"Maybe," he smirked.

"Also, why walk?"

"Van's at the garage, problem with the gear shift. I brought it in last night."

"Oh,"

"Yeah, but I mean it's not that far, anyways."

"I could drop you off."

"You don't have to."

"C'mon! Like this, I can hang out with you and we can work together! I don't think I can stand being in the house alone with Steve right now," you pouted, hooking onto the hopes of being as far from Steve for as long as you possibly could.

"Alright," he smirked. "I'll let you bring me home."

"Good. As long as you don't mind that we bring Dustin home first," you slipped the key into your car door and opened it in a swift move, slipping your bag into the back seat.

"I don't mind at all. He seems cool."

"He is. It's not usually one of my babysitting days but his mom wants to make sure he gets home safe with the disappearance of his friend."

As if on cue, you heard Dustin's voice calling, screaming, your name in his usual enthusiastic tone and closing you into his traditional bear hug.

"How's my favorite troublemaker going?" you huffed, wrapping your arms around him.

"Doin' good," he mumbled against you. He wasn’t doing good, you knew that.

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"Alright," you nodded and pulled away from his embrace. "I'm dropping you off at Mike's, right?” Dustin nodded his head.

“Also, is it alright if my friend tags along?” You lifted your gaze to stare at Eddie who was awkwardly leaning on your car behind Dustin.

Dustin’s brow scrunched in confusion before following your gaze; his eyes lighting up when he came face to face with the metal head he couldn’t stop babbling about to his friends. He had heard a rumor of a D & D club at the high school he just couldn’t wait to join.

"You're coming with us!?"

"Yeah," Eddie smiled back, a certain ego boost rising in his chest caused by the stars of admiration apparent in the young boy’s eyes.

"Awesome," Dustin breathed out, as if this was the best news since he read about the announcement of the new Zelda game. You blinked as you registered Dustin's enthusiasm. Somehow, Dustin's best friend was missing but all he could think about was how he was going to be in the same car as his new idol; Eddie Munson.

Dustin waited until everyone was settled; seatbelts fastened and car doors secured shut before popping the question that had been dancing on his lips the second he placed his butt onto your back seat. "So… are you two dating now?"

There was an awkward pause. Eddie looked at you like a deer in headlights, blush creeping on both your cheeks.

You didn't know how to reply. Eddie had made it clear he wanted to go out with you.

You had been acting strangely like a couple for the past few hours. Holding hands in the hallway, stolen kisses in between classes. Your heart beated faster than your thoughts and words escaped you without thinking twice.

"Yeah, kind of," a short smile creeping on your lips as you looked at Eddie for confirmation.

Eddie knew he shouldn’t have felt this relieved when the words left your lips. He had wanted that answer from you with every fiber in his bodyvbut he knew very well this wasn't supposed to be real. This was supposed to never go further than a few planned dates so that Steve could go on dates of his own.

But dammit did he want this to be real. He felt angry and nauseous at the same time, almost close to agony at the mere thought that this had all started around a stupid deal.

He was beating himself up for not finding you sooner himself.

He knew he had to find a way.

"OH MY GOD! I KNEW IT! I KNEW IT!!" Eddie’s sulking was quickly shattered by Dustin’s piercing shriek and excited bounces. For a second he was scared the kid was going to hit his head on your car’s beige ceiling yet he seemed to have his bouncing up and down perfectly under control.

"Dustin-"

"I'M SO HAPPY FOR YOU GUYS," Eddie smiled a bit at the boy's adoration. He knew this kid was a keeper. A heart of gold to be paired with an amazing mind. He just hoped that once he reached high school, he wouldn’t let people like Steve or Tommy Hagan crush all his hopes and dreams in a single sentence.

Eddie wouldn’t be there to protect this kid. He wouldn’t be there to protect his friends and guide them in the adventure that was high school… he’d go on to bigger and better things and maybe, if life didn’t work out like he’d plan and he still stuck in this hellhole of a town, he’d cross paths with Dustin if he ever needed repairs to his potential future car.

"You two are like perfect for each other!" Dustin continued his happy rambles.

"Really?" Eddie raised an eyebrow, a grin painted over his features as he turned to meet the kid’s eyes.

"Yeah!" He furiously nodded. "Y/n, I'm so glad you listened to me!"

"Dustin! Please–” you tried to stop the fountain of words that Dustin could spew be when he got overly excited.

"What's that now?" Eddie changed his gaze to you like a curious cat pulling on a string until he unraveled all the yarn laid out in front of him.

"Dustin said we should date–"

"I said you two should date!" The two sentences came out like music, mixing together to echo in the car and scramble together.

Eddie grinned from ear to ear, clicking his tongue as he leaned back against the leather seat, "talking about me behind my back I see."

"Only good things, I promise."

"Well, I'm so glad you finally have a boyfriend. Steve will finally stop bugging you." Dustin huffed, making you giggle.

“Hopefully,” you glanced at Eddie who tried to swallow the lump in his throat at the mention of your brother.

You quickly brought your stare back to the road, blushing when you remembered the use of the word boyfriend. It's not like you had labeled anything yet and Dustin was coming in like a hurricane, ready to pull out every potential seed that he found if that meant you got to be happy and prove a point to Steve. Trying so hard to be your mini wingman, even if it meant he had to annoy or embarrass you in the process. You loved him to bits and knew this was all coming from a place of love, however you were desperate to change the subject.

Whatever was happening with Eddie was too fresh and not something to discuss with a twelve year old. You rummaged your brain for anything to ask Dustin, but everything that came to mind was going to potentially remind him of Will.

"Do you listen to metal?" Eddie’s voice made you release the breath you didn’t know you were holding. Once again, your savior.

"I tried to get him to but he says he never has the time to listen to the tapes I give him," you answered for Dustin.

"That's not true!"

"It is true Dustin! When I give you a tape, I miss my tape, so I ask for it back, and it turns out you didn't even listen to it!"

"Ok, fair enough. But I like what you put in the car when you pick me up. Especially the one band that's like… sabertooth something."

Sabertooth something. He absolutely has not, never in his life, listened to a tape you have given him.

"Black Sabbath?" Eddie questioned. You didn’t know how Eddie even made that connection when you didn’t.

"Yeah! That one!"

"Oh my god, the kid has taste."

Before Dustin could answer, the car came to a stop. You thought you almost heard a whine leave Dustin’s lips when he spotted Mike's house from the passenger window.

“I don’t want to go,” Dustin melted in his seat. “Can I stay with you and Eddie?”

“Dustin, as much as I love you, Mike is waiting for you,” Dustin groaned, making slow moves to unbuckle his seat belt. “Don’t you have a campaign to do?”

“Yeah, yeah…” he mumbled, not giving you a full answer. He was elusive. At this time on any normal day, he’d catch you up on the progress of the campaign and complain about how Lucas or Mike were playing. Dustin said nothing. He just looked at the house in slight concern. Maybe for Will, maybe for something else.

A part of him just wanted to stay with Eddie and yourself. He wanted to know everything about Eddie Munson and find out if the rumors the 8th graders spoke of the Witch King were true. Eddie didn’t even seem like a villain. He didn’t seem like the freak everyone at the malt shop said or the scary metal head the people at the pool gossiped about.

"Can we hang out with Eddie more often?" He asked hopefully.

"Yeah, we can," you let out a breathy laugh at his expression. "Now go! Mike is waiting for you and don't forget to call your mom! She's going to be worried sick."

"Yeah, yeah," he whined again as he put his bag on and opened the door. "I'll leave you and your boyfriend alone," he rolled his eyes and swung the door to a close.

"Bye, Dustin!" You waved your hand and he did the same before taking fast steps toward Mike's house.

Silence fell in the car as you watched Dustin waddle his way over to the white door of Mike’s home. His curly hair bounced as he did. He rang the bell and waited, turning around to meet your gaze and giving you his best toothless smile. You waved a last time before the door swung open behind him to reveal Mrs. Wheeler–well dressed as always. She rushed Dustin in, not noticing your car before closing the door which made her and Dustin disappear behind the perfect suburban house.

Neither of you wanted to be the one to break the silence.

Dustin's happiness still hanging in the air, both your cheeks hurting from his contagious smile. It was far from uncomfortable, sitting in a car with a giddy smile on your lips and Eddie Munson by your side.

"Boyfriend, hm?" Eddie smiled to himself.

"What?" You turned your head to face him, only to see that he was already staring at you.

"He called me your boyfriend."

"Oh yeah..." you felt the heat rise as the word sunk in.

"I like how that sounds, to be honest." Eddie hated himself for speaking. Digging himself a bigger hole than the one he was already trapped in. Yet everything felt so right.

"I kind of do too," you played with the sleeve of your sweater.

Eddie stayed frozen for a moment, contemplating his next move. His gaze was burning on you as he watched your shy demeanor. He was sure you were going to undo the seams of your sleeve by tugging so hard on the loose string, he could see the turmoil of thoughts reflecting on your features and hard focus on anything that wasn’t him. Trying to find an escape.

Eddie stopped you, grabbing your hand in his, the movement making you look up.

He gave you his sweetest smile, making your heart leap in your chest, feeling him lean in. Left hand coming up to cup your jaw, thumb grazing over the soft skin of your cheek that was burning from his touch. Not a doubt clouded Eddie's mind as he leaned in to kiss you. Not a single ounce of regret flooded him as his lips moved in sync with yours, his hand holding yours tighter.

He would find a way out of this mess he put himself in.

He had too.

If not for his own sanity, than for yours.

"Is that a Millennium Falcon keychain?" You noticed as Eddie's keys clinked together when he held them up to the door, sliding it into the keyhole.

"Yeah," Eddie chuckled. "You didn't notice it last time?"

"Sadly not," you smiled as he opened the door, waiting for you to get in before he did. He closed it behind you, dropping the keys in the fish shaped key bowl on the counter by the door and sloppily removing his shoes, messily tucking them under said counter.

You removed your own shoes, dropping your bag next to them before following him further towards the kitchen area.

"Do you want anything to drink? Soda, water?" Eddie opened a wooden cupboard, grabbing two tinted blue glasses and placing them on the counter behind him.

"Water, please," you spoke, admiring as Eddie grabbed one of the two glasses, filling it with water from the tap before handing it to you first.

"Here's your water, my lady."

"Thank you very much," you winked, taking a sip before looking over to your backpack. "So, we've got some Shakespeare to read and I have history questions to do."

"I'm afraid so..." He looked at you, defeat evident in his eyes.

"It will be alright!” You cheered, “where do you want to work?"

"In my room?"

"Is this a pretext of getting me in your bed, Munson?" you raised an eyebrow and Eddie froze on the spot. The wheels in his brain coming to a stop as you stared back at him with a cheeky smile. "I'm kidding," you chuckled at the look on his face. "Working in your room is perfect."

"Alright," he gave you a nervous chuckle before opening another cupboard and finding a pack of already opened cookies, placing them on the counter between the two of you.

"Can I ask you a question?" Eddie wondered as he grabbed a cookie from the bottom of the plastic package and handed it to you.

You took the cookie, raising an eyebrow before answering, "go ahead."

"How do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Handle a brother like Steve," you chuckled at the question.

“I just don’t,” you took a bite of the cookie Eddie had handed you. “You saw what happened Friday. I survive with a brother like Steve, because I genuinely know I cannot do anything to change him.”

"Fair enough," he grabbed another cookie from the pack, taking a bite out of it before dropping it on the counter and turning to the fridge.

"My turn to ask a question,"

"Go ahead," he answered as he grabbed a carton of milk. Closing the fridge before turning back towards you.

"Where were you for a month last fall? Not jail, I hope?"

Christ. He couldn’t believe you knew he was gone for so long. He didn’t imagine anyone except his five friends knowing he wasn’t there.

"Why, you’re scared your new boyfriend has a criminal record?" He raised a challenging eyebrow, the word boyfriend still making butterflies flutter in your stomach.

"No," you rolled your eyes, watching as Eddie poured himself the milk in his still empty glass. He pointed the carton towards you in a silent question, you nodded, chugging the last of your water down before sliding him the glass. "Couldn't care less, honestly. Just curious, people say so many different things…” You trailed on with a cheeky smile, “jail, short-lived porn star career, cult leader, the list goes on. Forgive me for being curious."

"Definitely none of those," he snorted at your list, dipping his half eaten cookie in the milk and taking a large bite. He waited until he finished chewing and swallowed before answering.

"I was with um, I was visiting my dad while he was on his deathbed."

"Oh," you looked down at your own glass of milk, you seriously didn't mean to open this can of worms. You had never heard a mention of Eddie’s parents and you seriously didn’t mean to intrude in on something that seemed so private to him.

"Hated every minute, to be honest."

"That bad?" You looked back up.

"Well, you know I didn't always live in the trailer park with my uncle," he wiped the cookie crumbs from his fingers on the side of his jeans before leaning closer to you agasin't the counter, "I use to be in an alright apartment, with both my parents," he reached for your free hand, still splayed on the countertop, "of course, I didn't know we were squatters back then, but then my mom died when I was 8 and my dad left, leaving me here with Wayne."

"That must have sucked," you let him play with your fingers, a pause settling in before you lifted your gaze and made eye contact with him. It was not an uncomfortable one, almost peaceful as his words hung in the air.

"Yeah," he made a funny face, "he left and ended up meeting this bimbo who I guess managed to put him on the right track. Made him a new family and shit," that took all the words out of you.

"So yeah, I wasn't in jail, or attempting a porn star career; although I might have preferred to be doing that,” he chuckled. “I was visiting him and his new perfect cookie-cutter family. It was a fiasco," he chuckled to himself. "His new wife didn't want to introduce me to her kids as their brother so I was always baptized as Wayne's kid, their freaky cousin from bum-fuck-nowhere, Indiana. She was throwing daggers at me half the time and I spent most of my days at the neighboring mini golf getting high with the manager."

"You did what?" You smiled at the absurdity.

He matched your smile, "he kept playing Metallica and Ozzy, I had to befriend him. Freaks with freaks, am I right?"

"Yeah," you squeezed his hand, "freaks with freaks."

You didn't know how the air felt so light after what Eddie had dropped on you. Maybe it was the matching look in each of your gazes, or how normal this all felt. A pause lingered in the air. You could tell Eddie had processed this whole crazy situation he had been in. You thought it was a shame he'd probably have to redo a year because of that. But maybe it wouldn't be so bad if it meant you'd do your Senior year with him by your side.

This brought you back to your purpose of being here with Eddie.

"Maybe we should get to work," you patted his hand.

"Yeah,"

"I cannot do this," Eddie huffed, dropping his book on his lap. You watched as the book opened itself like an accordion and fell open on his bed. Eddie roughly leaned his head against his wall, groaning when his head collided against the hard material.

"What's wrong?" you peaked from your history book.

"This is barely English," he lifted Romeo and Juliet up from his lap and held it by two fingers like it was a dead animal.

"You can read all of Tolkein's work but not Romeo and Juliet?"

"That's different. Tolkein's English is way smoother to read."

"Hm," you smiled, bringing your attention back to the paragraph on the Russian Revolution you were previously reading. Something about the murder of the Romanovs and the supposed victories that followed for the Bolsehviks. "You’ve already read it haven’t you?"

"Yes, but a long time ago. I’m taking my time rereading it," you flipped to the next page, hoping the chapter on the first world war would end there but your eyes fell upon yet another two page section about the consequences of the war on the world. Your eyes quickly danced across a paragraph detailing the problems soldiers faced. You sighed, lazily taping Eddie’s beige carpet with the pink eraser on the back of your pencil.

"Ugh, I don’t know how you do it." Eddie spoke again after a long beat of silence, a new minute of him trying to focus as much of his strength as he could to make sense of the scrambled letters in his hands. He dropped the book again, and flopped to the side like a dead fish. Letting his head and one of his arms drop by the side of his bed. Staring at you now upside down.

"Dramatic much?"

He groaned in response.

You looked up to him from your place on the floor, giving him a silent laugh as you took in his state. His eyes were closed as another dramatic groan escaped his lips, hands flying on his face in desperation. You bit the eraser at the end of your pencil, contemplating your next move.

"Alright, I’ll help you," you closed your textbook and shuffled to stand up, shaking the soreness out of your legs. Eddie mumbled something barely audible when he heard you move.

You picked the book from the spot it had been thrown and flipped through the pages until ACT 2 was written in bold across the white paper.

"Move aside,” you nudged him, making him roll over so he was correctly placed against his pillow, leaving room for you. You climbed on the bed and moved until you were resting against his side, head cosied up on his shoulder.

"What are you doing?" Eddie mumbled as he wrapped his hand around your waist, mindlessly starting to draw circles on your exposed skin.

"Reading it to you,"

"You don't have to,"

"I know, but I want to. Like this, I'm rereading it and learning too," Eddie blinked as he stared at the top of your head, intently watching as you cleared your throat.

“Act 2, Scene 2. In Capulet's garden, Romeo enters.”

“Romeo: But, soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, who is already sick and pale with grief,” Eddie felt his breath catch in his throat. When you spoke the words, Eddie could comprehend every meaning behind it, and his mind, against his own will, twisted the meanings to relate them to you. Was he doomed to feel like Romeo?

“Juliet appears at the window,” you continued, and Eddie felt himself squeeze the side of your arm in realization. “Romeo: It is my lady, O, it is my love! O, that she knew she was! She speaks, yet she says nothing. What of that?” You sighed, expecting any comments from your usually talkative boyfriend, but nothing. You looked up to be met with eyes full of thoughts.

“All ok up there?”

“Y- yeah,” he breathed, “you make it easy to understand.”

“Hm,” you giggled, cheeks warming up at the feeling of Eddie’s hand on your arm and his lips close to your ear. “Really?”

He kissed your temple as a reply.

He meant every word.

Not only does hearing you reading make the words clear in his mind, organizing themselves like the perfect melody Shakespeare meant it to be. But the words resonated with something stronger in him. As if the feelings Romeo was crying out were ripped straight out of his chest and burned into the pages you were holding.

You were holding in your hands what his heart was yearning to scream.

“I hate this,” you looked at Tommy’s car from the windshield. You could hear the music playing from the garden and Tommy Hagan’s laughter and to top it off, Steve’s faint voice as he rambled on about whatever had annoyed him that day.

“It will be alright, I promise,” Eddie offered, grazing your arm with his finger tips in an attempt to bring you some comfort, however, perhaps he was the one who needed it that evening.

He could hear the splash of your pool from the other side of the house, and it made him feel as though he was walking straight through a shark tank. Swimming straight for the enemy that could sense the smallest drop of blood; the smallest crack in his armor.

But you made that armor ten times stronger and there was no way Eddie Munson was going to let Steve Harrington and Tommy Hagan see him bleed.

“Hm,” your grumble brought him back to the present, watching as you aggressively grabbed your bag and slipped out of your car, Eddie trailing not far behind.

You opened the door to your house, your R2D2 keychain making music as it clinked agains’t the rest of your keys. You grabbed the right key, the biggest silver one out of the 3 that hung around the ring. You reluctantly turned the silver object in the lock, ready to meet your doom.

From the look on your face he thought you were getting ready to fight the battle of Helm’s deep. Ready to fight an endless battle against the most vile creatures of Mordor, no hopes of winning and the odds far from being in your favor.

But the Fellowship did win the Battle of Helm’s deep.

The door opened to reveal a big but homely house. A variety of shoes stood against the entry hall wall, from Steve’s basketball sneakers to the Reeboks Eddie had seen you wear multiple times. Hagan’s Nikes were next to Carol’s Vans; and you fought the urge to throw in the trash Tommy’s bright green hoodie that hung next to your blue and yellow windbreaker.

“You can take off your shoes and hang your jacket here if you want,” you smiled, pointing to the corner filled with all the clothes of the teenagers currently in the house. You slipped your own shoes off and dropped your bag on a yellow chair by the door to the kitchen.

You sighed as you watched Eddie remove his own shoes and shrug off his jacket.

“Ready to infiltrate the enemy?”

“As long as you’re by my side.”

It was everything you knew it would be. A soaked from head to toe Tommy chasing Carol across your parents garden in an attempt to throw her into the pool. On one of the old white sun chairs sat an uncomfortable Barb with a glass of water dancing between her fingers. Steve shared a sunchair with Nancy who was blushing at whatever stupid joke he had whispered in her ear, and in between all of that two packs of unopened beer sat piled on the small black and green garden table.

“This looks… fun?” Eddie raised an eyebrow, watching you roll your eyes and step forward.

You huffed, barely muttering a hello to your brother and your friends as you ripped the cardboard of one of the six packs open and grabbed two beers. You threw one to Eddie and opened yours, taking a long well needed sip, bracing for their greetings.

“Munson!” Steve cheered, standing up from his spot next to Nancy.

“Harrington,” he nodded a bit stiff as Steve roughly patted his back. “Welcome to the crib!” He chuckled and you wondered how many beers he already had from how loud he was talking.

Tommy stopped running after his girlfriend once he spotted Eddie, a large grin plastered on his punchable face and hovered towards you.

“Eddie, my man!” Tommy cheered as though he was his new best friend, giving him a handshake before taking a step back and asking, “you got the stuff?”

“Yeah,” Eddie fished for the packet of weed in the back pocket of his jeans before throwing it in Tommy’s hand.

“Thanks man,” he winked before waltzing over to the other corner of the pool where had already prepared some rolling paper and other random tools you couldn’t see from that far. All neatly laid out on a mossy wooden block that your parents had meant to throw away weeks ago.

You laid up on one of the empty sun chairs, eyeing Eddie. You watched him fumble with his hands, awkwardly playing with the can of beer in his hands and looking for something to fiddle with. You’d learn it was a habit of his when he felt nervous. He met your gaze and you silently nudged him to come over. You folded your legs together so he had room to sit in front of you.

You placed a reassuring hand on his thigh, and Eddie placed a ring cladded hand on top of yours. You blew him a kiss before looking to your left to where Barbara and Nancy were still sitting, he intently watched as you gave Barb a short smile and took a new sip of your beer.

“Hey! want some?” Tommy placed the freshly lit blunt in front of Nancy’s face, she politely declined and Tommy shrugged, not caring to make any comments before taking a new drag for himself. He silently asked Barbara but he got the same answer, an answer he expected anyways, and turned around towards you and Eddie.

“I know you won’t say no,” he joked and Eddie tried to hand him a smile as he took the joint out of his hand and took a drag for himself. “It’s good stuff by the way,” Tommy commented as Eddie blew smoke to the side, making sure it didn’t get in your face.

“I know,” he spoke, “but you’re half ruining it by rolling it like that,” he scanned the joint in his hand, inspecting it and indeed seeing the crooked way Tommy had folded it, he almost winced as if Tommy had made damage to something greater than him. “My grandmother rolls better than this, Hagan.”

You watched in amusement as Tommy’s eyes widened in an amused shock, not expecting that comment from the drug dealer in front of him. He was sure he knew how to roll well, he’d been doing it occasionally and most of his friends never complained.

Tommy stayed dumbfounded and couldn’t answer until the words registered. He shrugged it off, pretending Eddie made false accusations before walking over to the other side of the pool to greedily make a new one to prove to Eddie that he wasn’t as bad as he was saying.

Once Hagan was out of the way and Eddie had already taken one to many drags, you moved your hand towards him, making grabby hands at the stress relieving gold between his fingers.

He laughed at your eagerness, letting your fingers linger as they brushed against yours to grab your last hope to stay sane tonight.

Your eyes scanned the sky, trying to enjoy the beautiful sunset that tumbled upon the tall Hawkins tree. You wished you could have been elsewhere, maybe at lovers lake, playing truth or dare with Eddie as you sipped on homemade cocktails you threw into to-go cups.

But as the weeds seeped in and you watched the sky turn from its pink and orange colors, you thought that maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad. Especially if the weed kept tumbling and Eddie stuck by your side.

Steve stole the blunt from you after your third drag, nagging something about how you should keep some for the others. He blew smoke to the side before looking at his watch, sighing before flicking his wrist, making his watch place itself better on his wrist and looked at you, “Y/n/n, do you have any cash on you?”

“No, why?” You threw your head back on the chair to catch his face.

“Because I ordered Pizza.”

“And? You expect me to pay?”

“No, no, totally not,” his lie made you groan in annoyance, wiggling your feet out of their criss-cross position to lay them out across Eddie’s lap. “I was just wondering,” he rolled his eyes, and as if on cue, the doorbell rang.

“I have some cash, if you want?” Eddie chimed in, rubbing circles on your ankles as he eyed your brother, and could see Tommy smirking like a madman from the corner of his eye. They all knew where the cash in question was coming from and Eddie felt even more guilty from the knowing looks they were giving him.

“Nah, S’okay, keep your well earned money Munson,” he waved his hand and smirked, Eddie’s chest stinging at the comment.

His gaze went back to you. You said something he didn’t catch to Nancy, happy you had stopped paying any attention to their conversation.

He just experienced the first shark attack; subtle but all the same painful.

Eddie knew he was playing a dangerous game by being here tonight.

“Eddie, could you help me?” Steve took a last drag of the joint and handed it back to Tommy who was probably going to finish it and light up a new one by the time they got back with the pizza’s.

“Yeah, sure,” Eddie grabbed your ankles, lifting them up from him and back down on the hard panels of the sun chair making you instantly divert your attention back to him.

“Hey, where are you going?”

“Helping your brother with the pizza’s, baby,” he smiled, kissing your forehead before following your brother into the house.

You watched attentively as Eddie disappeared behind the glass door, unapologetically checking him out.

“Y/n/n, can I talk to you for a minute,” Barbara broke you out of your staring, making you blink out of whatever trance Eddie had you in.

“Yeah of course, Barb,”

“In private?”

“Oh, sure,” you dropped your can of beer on the floor, sliding it under your chair to minimize the chances of it getting spilled by a clumsy Tommy Hagan or Steve.

You fixed your jeans as you stood up, following Barbara down the stone path that led further down towards the forest parts of your garden.

“What’s up?” You questioned, folding your arms together, as if to shield yourself from any of her comments, and maybe from the slight wind that started blowing.

“You’ve got to be careful with Eddie.”

“Why?” You frowned, biting at your nails. “You’ve seen how he is, Eddie’s a sweetheart, Barb.”

She frowned even more than you, “yeah, but don’t you think it’s weird he’s only shown interest in you right around the time your brother got this new rule from your parents? And not only that but Steve has been acting really weirdly these past few days–”

“Barb, it’s Steve,” you cut her off, “he’s always acting weird,” you rolled her eyes and chuckled. A sharp laugh that made Barb look down to her feet. “Eddie makes me happy, okay? That’s all you need to know and that’s all that matters right now, okay?”

“Right,” the white toe of her shoe collided with a small rock on the ground, she rolled it around for what felt like a second too long before speaking again, “just think about it, please?”

“Barb, let’s get back to the party, okay?”

“I can’t believe you got my mutant sister to date you, man. Good job, honestly,” Steve chuckled, shaking his head as he grabbed his wallet from a wooden console in the hallway and continued his way towards the door.

Eddie frowned at Steve’s obliviousness. He seemed to be blind to the fact that you were truly infatuated with Eddie, forgetting the part where this was all a twisted deal. This made a new kind of ache rise inside his stomach.

Did your brother really care so little about you?

Eddie’s eyes trailed from the bowl that previously sheltered Steve’s wallet, not half full with keys and other trinkets Eddie didn’t know the use of. He looked up from it and noticed the frames hanging above the furniture. A green wooden frame caught his eye, a picture of you and Steve hugging. You must have been about five and six and Eddie wondered when it all started going down between the two of you. At which point did a flip switch in Steve to become the coldhearted douchebag he was today.

“Parallel universe where we got along,” Steve joked before nudging Eddie to join him by the door. Eddie expected for Steve to open the front door but instead he opened his wallet in half and slipped out two green bills.

“Here, as promised. That’s for tonight,” he handed Eddie a fifty, the brightest smirk plastered on his traits. He was happy, his investment was paying off. Eddie noticed the other bill was also a fifty, and he hoped he had ordered fifty dollars worth of pizza, because he thought he was going to throw up if it was another payment for another ‘task’ he’d have him do, another place he needed to take you.

“And that’s to take her to the Spring Fling,” Eddie didn’t make a move to grab the money, Steve didn’t seem to care and almost stuffed it into his hand. As if he was a vampire touching silver, Eddie felt the money burn his fingers, “and please, please convince her to go, my parents would never let me if she doesn’t.”

“Yeah, yeah I know the drill, Harrington,” the words felt bitter in his mouth. He stumbled a bit on his words, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to prepare his next words, he was ready to cut the deal off, give him the money back and pretend this deal never happened.

But Steve opened the door before he could get a word out, and Eddie instantly recognised the delivery boy as a client of his.

A young redhead who had graduated Hawkins High a year ago, he remembered learning that he was saving for college with his job at the one Surfer Boy Pizza location Hawkins had, but Eddie also knew that he was using a crazy amount of his savings on weed, and other shit, because half of the profit he’d made in the last few months came from him alone.

“Oh! Hey, Munson!” The boy’s face lit up when he recognised his dealer, “didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Makes two of us,” Eddie offered a smile, grabbing half of the pizza boxes while Steve handed him the money and grabbed the rest of the boxes himself, “I’ll see you later.”

“Yep,” the redhead grinned and Steve bidded him goodbye before closing the door with his foot.

“Thanks for the help,” he muttered, trotting to the back of the house. Eddie watched as Steve skillfully opened the door with his elbow, and the cool spring air hit his face again.

“Pizza's here!” Everyone cheered, and the two boys dropped the boxes on the now empty sunchair that used to host you and Eddie minutes prior.

You walked up to Eddie, melting at his side as he draped an arm around your waist.

“Did my brother annoy you?”

“No,” Eddie chuckled, a little awkwardly, his eyes darting to Steve who was circling the garden to turn on the lights.

The sky was darker now, night starting to shine in all its glory, taking it the reassurance of sunlight with it. Everyone seemed to be in a good mood though, weed had started to take over and the first beer pack had already disappeared into a pile of empty cans.

This was going to be a long night.

“So, you and Eddie hmm?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“Oh, but it so is my business.” Steve had the biggest smile on, the smile only faltering as he took another sip of his beer, chugging the end in one go.

"Oh, but it so isn't,” you caught Eddie’s eye from the other side of the pool, he was teaching Tommy how to roll a proper joint.

You watched as Eddie smiled, a freshly rolled joint in between his fingers while Tommy was grumbling something you couldn’t understand. Eddie, shrugging before standing up, tucking the cigarette on his ear as he made his way to you.

Tommy’s ego seemed to have calmed down and his thoughts soon caught the attention of something else. A devilish glint in his eyes as he ran across the pool and grabbed Carol by the waist, threatening to throw her in the pool.

She screamed, a piercing scream that made almost everyone giggle–even you.

“Stop it Tommy! Don’t!” She screamed until she was back on her two feet and you kind of wished he had thrown her in.

Steve left your side to grab a beer, piercing a hole through the bottom before opening the can and chugging it in one go. He made eye contact with you, throwing you one and you grabbed the knife closest to you to do the same. You watched as Steve slung himself across one of the lounge chairs by Nancy, trying to be as cool as possible but his poor attempts weren’t invisible.

“Is that supposed to impress me?” Nancy raised an eyebrow and you rolled your eyes at your brother’s nonchalance.

Eddie grabbed a beer, not paying any mind to Nancy and your brother as he made his way to you. You stood up from your sunchair and Eddie almost told you to stay put. That he’d just sit on the floor next to you but your actions were faster.

You made him sit down and you didn’t hesitate one second to sit on his lap, making yourself comfortable against him, legs tangling with each other on the extension of the chair.

“This is way more comfortable than the floor,” he whispered in your ear as his arm found its way across your waist.

“I know right?” You brought him into the most tender kiss, the way he made you feel all soft and mushy on the inside seeping through.

He smiled once you leaded away, smiling as you grabbed the swiss knife back from the garden table next to you and imitated your brother’s earlier actions–piercing a hole at the bottom of your can, and opening it, chugging the whole thing in one go.

“Oh, is this some kind of Harrington super power?” Eddie raised an eyebrow, making you laugh.

“Maybe, maybe,” you laughed and Eddie did too. The sounds of laughter are contagious to each other. You bumped your forehead into the side of his head lovingly and Eddie could feel your smile against his cheek.

“Thanks for coming tonight,” you whispered. “Without you, I don’t know what I’d be doing right now. Probably planning my next murder attempt on Steve,”

“Oh, because there’s been a first one?”

“A few.”

“Very metal of you, baby.”

“Hey, Barb, are you ok?” Nancy’s voice caught your attention, snapping you out of your bubble.

You watched as Barb clutched her hand, blood dripping out of it.

“I’m fine,”

“Barb, you’re bleeding.”

“I said I’m fine,” she shrugged Nancy’s help off and turned to Steve. “I’ll just go, clean up,” she nodded and you stood up from your spot in Eddie’s arms, grabbing her shoulder before she could take a step further.

“Hey Barb, I’ll go help you wrap that up. It doesn’t look good.”

“I’ll be fine Y/n/n, I don’t need your help,” she muttered, almost bumping into your shoulder before disappearing behind your back door.

“Awkward,” Tommy snicked, trying to relieve the tension. It made Carol and Steve laugh while you and Nancy shared a worried glance. This wasn’t like Barb at all.

But the tension quickly dissipated. Tommy knew very well what to do to save the night and pushed Carol into the pool only to jump after her. Steve did the same with Nancy and you took it as your cue to grab Eddie’s hand, making him leave his spot on your uncomfortable chair and jump with you in the pool.

The water felt colder than you expected. You hadn’t been in the pool since September, even if you had reopened and cleaned the pool only about a week ago, and the air still held on to the bits of winter, persuading you to stay in the comfort of your bedroom instead of taking a swim.

Barb seeped out of everyone’s minds as water splashed across the space. Steve splashing Nancy but the hit also falling onto you and Eddie who tread behind her.

The six of you fell into a loud water fight, making the concrete slabs beside of your pool sopping wet and the water even reaching the empty pizza boxes that were all cramped up in a corner by your small garden table.

You were so enthralled in watching Nancy trying to swim away from the menace that your brother could be, that you didn’t realize Eddie was behind you, making an easy strike as he grabbed you, enveloping you in his arms and pulling you closer by the waist. You squealed before you realized it was him, your back hitting his chest. You quickly melted in his embrace as his lips hovered the shell of your ear.

He whispered something you unfortunately didn’t catch over everyone's screaming, so you turned around in his arms to ask him what it was but by the time you were face to face with him, he pulled you into a kiss and dragged you down under the water with him, taking you by surprise. You pulled away, letting out a surprised breath under water, bubbles seeping out to climb the surface, but you quickly registered the gesture, and pulled him back into the kiss.

You were both laughing messes once you reached the surface, panting from being deprived of oxygen. Eddie pushed some wet locks out of your face, staring at you with star filled eyes.

A certain melancholy seeped through him as he watched you in awe–mesmerized by you. Your eyelashes filled with droplets of water, and your hair going crazy. He got closer, whispering something you this time heard loud and clear.

“Where were you all my life?”

You felt yourself grabbing his shoulder; a way to anchor yourself because if you didn't, you didn’t know how you could keep your knees from buckling and keep yourself from drowning. The water might have been freezing cold, but your entire body felt like fire under his touch.

“Right here,” you whispered back, pressing a kiss to his cheek before resting your forehead against his.

“Why so far?” Butterflies rose to your stomach and even though the others were screeching and screaming behind you, you felt like it was only you and Eddie, holding each other in the corner of your pool.

“Hey lovebirds!” Of course, Tommy had to break the moment, sending a giant wave of water towards the two of you, making you snap out of your love spell and back to harsh reality.

“Here,” you grabbed one of your blue striped towels from the pool shed and handed it to Eddie.

“Thank you,” he placed it around his shoulders. He watched intently as you grabbed your own towel and started wrapping yourself around it, closing the pool shed right after.

You gazed up, watching as Steve and Nancy went inside the house, towels of their own wrapped around their shoulders, Carol and Tommy quickly following.

You shivered. The briskness of night setting in, reminding you this was only a random Wednesday night of April. It wasn’t a time to swim or take a dip in the pool just for kicks–It was spring as it barely emerged from a winter that you wished had morphed into the endless summer nights where the sun stayed high longer and you wouldn’t freeze the second you exited the pool.

“C’mon, let’s get you some dry clothes.”

Eddie nodded, and followed you in, noticing the way your damp hair swooshed with the wind as you walked, and the way you smiled as the warmth of the house engulfed you whole the second you stepped inside.

Eddie walked in after you, and you made sure the door was closed before wrapping your hand around his and walked further into the dim lighted room, right until you reached the brightly lit corridor.

“Hey Barb,” you frowned as you saw her, standing by your front door. “Everything ok?”

She watched with big eyes as your hand wrapped around the white railing of the staircase, other hand wrapped around Eddie’s as he trailed behind you.

“Yeah, yeah,” she dismissed it, watching as Eddie pressed the towel he held in his free hand against his wet curls, frowning at the redhead before him.

Even he knew she was lying.

“Where’s Nance?” You asked, perched up on the third step while Eddie played with the wet belt loops of your jeans, intently watching as you tried to know more of the reason behind your friend’s frown.

“Upstairs with your brother.”

“Ah,” you nodded, biting the inside of your cheek in thought.

“I’m going to go home,” she looked down at her shoes averting yours and Eddie’s gaze as best she could.

“You sure?” You frowned again, and Eddie squeezed the side of your waist in an attempt to sooth your thoughts. “Eds and I are just going to get dry clothes and then we’ll come back downstairs. We could play Uno?” You offered, remembering when you’d pull out your Uno deck at any given chance during boring school field trips, Nancy always complaining because she was so bad at it while Barb often took the win.

You could see the hesitancy in her eyes, memories flashing before her. “Thanks, but it’s late,” she cleared her throat and fixed her glasses.

You knew there was something else behind her voice, a sort of strain that told you ‘I don’t want to be more of a bother than I already am’.

“Alright, well, be careful ok?” You smiled and started making your way back up the stairs, Eddie nodding to Barb before following you up.

“Oh, and Y/n/n,” she caught your attention before you could reach the last step, waiting until you met her eyes before continuing; “please think on what I’ve told you,” your gaze softened and you had to prevent yourself from looking at Eddie, not to raise any suspicion that he was the lead subject of her words.

You had no intent on doing so, but just to give her a piece of mind you spoke, like a dance in the wind, “I will Barb, promise. Get home safely.”

You saw her shoulders slump from the corner of your eye as you climbed the last step, before taking a left towards your room.

“Well, since Steve is occupied, I can’t ask him for anything,” you looked behind you as you opened the door to your bedroom, Eddie’s big eyes intently staring back, “but I do own oversized band tees and stole a pair of sweats from Steve two weeks ago so you could use that?” You offered and Eddie couldn’t help the laughter that tumbled out of him at the proposition.

“That would be more than perfect.”

The door of your bedroom closed behind you with a soft thud, and Eddie found himself mesmerized by how similar your bedrooms were. Posters against posters, and a huge shelf with more fantasy books than Eddie could count. His mind went back to the first time Steve sat at the Hellfire table, while Eddie read through the list of books he’d found in your room. Indeed Steve hadn’t been lying, and the list he’d read on the crumpled white paper with Harrington’s sloppy handwriting found itself manifesting on your wooden shelves.

His eyes scanned every shelf and he found himself ogling at your Tolkein collection–all hardbacks with different colors and the recurring T symbol. Eddie had never seen such a beautiful collection of Tolkein’s work.

“My uncle gave them to me before he died, they’re pretty cool, don’t you think?”

“I think I’m falling in love with them,” you chuckled at his antics.

“Some of them are signed.”

“No way, can I?” He pointed towards the collections.

“Of course, Eddie. The Hobbit is signed if you want to see.”

Eddie pulled out the blue book in awe, fingers delicately dancing across the pages.

“You should see mine,” he smirked, “ripped out front covers and dead spines. I accidently burnt the first page of the two towers because I was smoking while reading, and Oliver, so not accidentally dropped his chewed gum in the middle of my Hobbit book.”

“Why?” You raised an eyebrow at the absurdity.

“He was mad because I accidentally scratched his guitar.”

“Well, wouldn’t you be mad if he stretched your Warlock?”

“Yeah, but that’s different. His was an old guitar that didn’t ring well, he was about to get a new one, anyways,” Eddie rolled his eyes before he continued to scan your shelves. “Oh my god, is that a mini replica of the millennium falcon?” He placed the copy of your hobbit back on the shelf, and grabbed the Star Wars miniature, eyes wide like a child who discovered his new favorite toy.

“Yeah,” you smiled as you opened your cupboard, scanning the shelves for the sweat pants and shirt you had promised Eddie. You threw two oversized Metallica shirts on your bed, and found sweatpants for you before finally getting your hands on Steve’s gray sweatpants. “I got it last summer when we went to California,” you spoke, grabbing the biggest shirt out of the two and the gray pants, handing them to Eddie as he placed the small figurine back on your shelf.

“I love it,” he kissed your cheek, thanking you for the clothes.

“Bathroom is in the corridor, first door on your left,” you pecked his lips, watching him as he scurried out of your room.

You sighed, a giddy smile on your lips as you changed into dry clothes of your own. When Eddie came back, he couldn’t keep his eyes from roaming the room. There was so much stuff he wasn’t sure where to look first.

He saw a stuffed Chewbacca on your bed, right by where your head laid, and snatched it from the spot. He sat at the edge of your mattress, turning it to you and making Chewbacca noises.

“You know what, Chewie? I agree,” you played along and Eddie continued his Chewie noises as if the doll was speaking.

You giggled, grabbing the plushie from Eddie and scooting yourself closer, kissing him silly.

Eddie’s hand found its place on your waist, pulling you closer but the kiss was broken by your ever growing smiles.

“You’re so silly, you know that?” You muttered, smiling like an idiot.

“And that’s why you like me so much.”

“You’re right,” you kissed him again, lips melting with him and moving in perfect sync. It was everything your previous kisses weren’t. Passionate and burning with envy as your hand found its place in his hair, gently tugging on his curls. Eddie groaned in your mouth as you continued gently pulling onto his locks, making a moan leave your own lips.

Eddie thought he was going to go crazy. His hand traveled up your thigh, pushing you up so you sat on his lap, hungrily kissing the corner of your lips before continuing his way down your jaw.

"Come to the dance with me," Eddie mumbled against your skin, kisses trailing lower until he found the spot that made you shiver.

"What?" You half moaned from the attention he was giving you and half chuckled at the absurdity of the question.

"Come to the dance with me," his voice was more serious now, a slight pant in his breath. He stopped what he was doing and straightened up, eyes leveling with yours.

"No, no, I heard you. Why?" You pushed a strand of hair away from his eyes. “I thought you hated that kind of stuff, because I definitely do.”

"Gareth is going with a girl he really likes and he doesn't want to be the only Hellfire guy there," he half lied. Oliver was going too but you didn't need to know that, yet.

You sighed, fingers dancing across the Metallica writing on the chest of his shirt.

“Eds-”

“Think about it, please?”

You bit your lip, looking up to meet his big chocolate eyes, peering at you almost like a lost puppy; how could you refuse him anything when he looked like that. “I’ll let you know, Eds,” you bit your lip. “No promises.”

“Alright,” he breathed out, one ringed hand reaching up to cup your face. His thumb brushed over your cheek and you felt yourself melt into his touch again.

You leaned in, breaths mixing together until your lips brushed each others, melting back into a kiss–this time it was more desperate, he kissed you with a gentle urgency and you were already breathless in his mouth as you felt his fingers brush your bare skin under the soft material of your shirt. His hand itched to travel upwards, but the deal was still tugging at the back of his mind, like a faint melody, haunting him.

But that melody was just a faint whisper as you repositioned yourself on his lap, now straddling him as the kisses only grew hungrier, more desperate. Desperate to get closer, to feel him against you as much as you could.

Your mind was all Eddie, and you didn’t mind one bit.

In fact you were welcoming his ever hypnotising presence, letting you melt and engulf in everything that he was–you fitted together like pieces of a puzzle, and the words he’d spoken to you while you were enveloped in the cold water of your swimming pool resonated again through you; ‘where were you all my life?’

Where had he been all this time? Your knight in shinning black armor. You wondered if life would have been easier if he had been by your side earlier. If the nagging from Steve and the bullying from his friends would have effected you less if you had each other–if you had been there to protect one another from the jungle that was Hawkins High.

The cold metal of his rings agains’t your waist brought you back to the present–and suddenly you knew you weren’t going to be alone in the treacherous sea of Hawkins, that you didn’t need to be scared of the sharks anymore. That you would have no more use for the walls you had spend all these years building. That you could take a break from your Heinous Bitch alter ego.

But as the moment went on, Eddie already knew where this had taken a turn–the nagging melody only grew louder, and he felt himself come back to his sense–as if waking up from the intoxicating hold you had on him.

Suddenly, he felt guilty for the way he was touching you and pulled his hand from the soft skin of your waist as though it was burning him. His heart knew this was right, but his mind knew it was wrong–and Eddie felt himself get torn apart the more your lips danced together in perfect rhythm.

He hummed against your lips, in an attempt to wake you from the same daze that he had abruptly been ripped away from.

"We- we should stop,” the words left his lips before he could over think more than he was already constrained too. “I- I should go." He looked at your face, his own fake smile flailing at the hurt your eyes held.

“What?” You panted, pushing yourself back so you could take a better look at him, trying to understand what made him stop his actions “Eddie-” you grabbed his shoulder, hoping it would keep him here, anchor him back to you.

But instead he offered you the poorest of excuses; “It’s getting late,” you only registered that he had moved you away from his lap and back onto the bed when you watched him stand up, and pace around to gather his things, “we have school tomorrow, remember?”

“Since when do you care about school?” You half joked, hoping this would help Eddie give a clearer explanation to his sudden need for his departure. You watched as Eddie snorted from your truthful comment, but patiently waited for more words to fall out his mouth.

“Since I’ve got a pretty girl helping me with my homework,” he approached, hoping to ease the tension. He came over to you with a genuine smile and bopped your nose, fingers lingering on the soft skin of your cheek.

"Eddie,” you muttered, barely audible, and Eddie felt a new pang of guilt eat him up as he watched you–head falling down as you grabbed his other hand and played with his rings. “Why do every time I take a step forward you take two steps back?"

He froze–all thoughts fleeting out of his brain, threatening to shut his system down. He knew why, but he could never tell you, he didn’t know what he should even tell you. What words he could use to not dig himself a bigger hole and discern the trust it took so long gaining.

"You chase me around and when I finally cave in, you push me away?" Your mind flashed back to the first time you had tried to kiss him–when he had dropped you off after that damned party.

"I just-" He whispered, hoping he would find a quick way to defrost from the prison of his thought, trying to scrape at the sanity he was holding on to, trying the situation. "I want to take things slow with you," your frown only deepened.

"Sweetheart, I really really like you, and everything is happening so fast," the second part of this sentence couldn’t be so far from the truth; hell he could marry you tomorrow and he’d be the happiest man on earth.

He heard your sigh and was too cowardly to look at you. Fear lay heavy on his stomach the more this went on; traveling to his heart and seeping into his chest to spread all over him. Killing him softly with every passing minute.

He wished he had called the deal off hours ago when he had the chance. Give Steve his money back before he even opened the door for the delivery man; and maybe, just maybe tonight would have been different and guilt wouldn’t be eating him up like it was now.

“Ok,” you nodded, trying to hide the small ache that had started in your own chest.

You were going to try and say something else; bid him good night and tell him you’d see him tomorrow, hoping that sleeping on this whole situation would make it better for the both of you, give you answers to his behaviorvbut a loud, unrecognizable noise screeched from the garden.

"Did you hear that?" Eddie’s head snapped towards your window.

"Yeah,” you stood up, pushing the curtains open without a second thought. You both peered down, but saw nothing. The water of the pool was still, the lights creating shadows at the bottom and stray leaves dancing ontop the water.

Eddie turned his head towards you, “what do you think it was?”

“I don’t know,” you frowned, fingers dropping their grip on the soft material of your curtains once you had finished scanning the whole area visible from your small window.

You looked up to meet Eddie; not really knowing what to do with the silence dancing across the two of you.

“You should go,” you offered a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Eds.”

“Y/n,” Eddie grabbed your wrist before you could move. “I really, really, like you, you know?” He breathed out, a hint of desperation in his voice that made you smile.

You leaned into his touch, taking a step forward, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips.

“I really like you too, Eddie.”

“Good.”

“Good,” you repeated. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

#Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson x you #Eddie Munson x y/n #Eddie Munson imagine #Eddie Munson fan fiction #Eddie Munson fluff #stranger things #stranger things fan fiction #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x rader #Joseph quinn x you

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