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munsonthings86 · 7 months

Text

sunshine

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: a love-struck steve cooks you dinner for the first time

warnings: cursing, alcohol, bit of backstory, oversimplified summary, steve's parents kinda suck (when do they not), best friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, soft!steve

an: i think this is my favorite thing i’ve ever written. i'm so in love with these two. i hope you all enjoy this one as much as i do. * don’t copy my work * (also pretend there's a big city near hawkins for the sake of this pls)

wc: 6.0k

“Ow!” Steve hissed, nicking his finger yet again as he made his best effort to dice pesky onions. The knife was razor-sharp as it was fresh out of its packaging, having never been used yet. Frustrated, he squeezed the band-aid he'd spent a solid ten minutes looking for, tighter on his finger, earning a harsh sting.

"Goddamned knife," he whispered, tightlipped, but as soon as the complaint left his lips he wished to yank it back in. It was the chef's knife you'd bought him along with many other thoughtful housewarming gifts to celebrate Steve moving into his first apartment. Steve had insisted that you return some of the gifts, noting that "one gift was more than he could ever ask for".

In spite of his pleas, you didn't return a single gift. Of course, you didn't. You had bought items you knew Steve would need but would ultimately forget to buy for himself. Just to name a few, you'd gotten him a trash bin for his bathroom, a record player, and the best utensil set that the rest of your Family Video paycheck could buy.

Peering at the odd assortment of household objects you'd lugged into his barren apartment with a bright smile pulling at the corners of your lips, an expression of gratitude and bewilderment claimed his face. Steve's round, chestnut-brown eyes ogled yours as you ranted and raved, explaining your thought process behind each purchase.

The record player was for nights like these. Peaceful nights indoors, simply enjoying each other's company without the tense presence of his parents who would shout for him to turn that damn music down if he even thought about letting the needle hit the groove of the record.

"Now we can play music as loud and as much as we want to," he remembered you saying, blushing at your use of the word "we". Though you two were only best friends and have been since grade school, Steve couldn't help but fantasize about a life with you. You, drowning in one of his bigger-than-you t-shirts, prancing around the apartment as you listened to some your favorite records.

He'd begun pondering on how he would rearrange the bit of furniture he had, that'd allow for space for your belongings as well, before you lured him out of his thoughts, defending the bin.

From what he gathered, you bought the garbage bin due to his burning inability to keep his bathroom clean. Steve was someone who took great care of his appearance, always well-kempt and attentive to even the smallest of details.

His bathroom did not reflect this, whatsoever. He had a bad habit of harboring empty cans and bottles of Farrah Fawcett spray that littered the already limited counter space he had in his en suite bathroom.

Steve was such a boy when it came to tidiness.

Everyone knew that about Steve, though. What they didn’t know, however, was how skilled he was in a kitchen. After being left to his lonesome whenever his parents would venture off to one of their many business trips, Steve spent his nights learning to cook after his allowance dwindled and he couldn't afford pizza delivery anymore. The second he'd clock in for his shift at Family Video, he'd make a beeline to where you stood, stocking VHS tapes, and instantly began buzzing and bustling about the new recipe he tried the night before.

You had begged him to let you come over one night to taste one of his home-cooked meals, but his response was always the same. "You can't rush perfection, sweets. But I promise, when I'm ready to grace the world with my master chef skills, you'll be the first to know."

You would roll your eyes dramatically at him but admittedly, you felt a sense of pride wash over you whenever Steve would tell you about his cooking endeavors. It may not seem like a big deal to others, but you knew how much his parents being so negligent, so often, bothered him.

Though they were never the most warm and affectionate, there seemed to be a colder chill and heavier sense of loneliness in the house when they were gone. That's why you never denied Steve whenever he'd call late at night asking if it was okay to spend the night at your house.

He always felt at home there.

Steve learning to cook for himself meant that his parents' absence was finally beginning to help him grow; no longer craving validation and tenderness from his family. He got that when he was with you. That's what the utensil set was for. A silent sign saying that though his parents weren't there, you were.

"Don't get me wrong, sunshine, I love the gift, but why's this knife so funny looking?" Steve asked, squinting his eyes at the sharp object that looked like it was from some alien universe. It had three square-like holes infiltrating the blade, and the tip came to an up-turned point that split in two. The handle was the only average looking part about it.

"That, my friend, is a cheese knife," you answered matter-of-factly, gazing at the box that had all of the included utensils neatly labeled.

"They make knives specifically for cheese?"

"Apparently, yeah," you snorted, tossing the empty box off to the side of the room with the other discarded cardboard that you made a mental note to move to the recycling bin on your way out. Steve never recycled. Bad habit he picked up from his parents, you figured.

"Well, I can't wait to use my weird new knife. Thank you. Seriously," Steve smiled softly as he watched you with those big brown eyes that voiced his gratitude and sentiment louder than his words ever could.

"The best weird chef has to have the best weird equipment. You're welcome," you grinned, toying with the loose thread dangling from your distressed band tee, as your eyes collided with Steve’s.

Looking at Steve was hard.

In the midst of quiet and almost intimate moments like these, the nerves bolting through your body screamed at you to look anywhere else, but the greed of your heart yearned for you to keep drinking in the deep chocolate pools that were Steve Harrington's eyes.

The two of you gazed at each other for another second, though it felt identical to a blissful eternity, until Steve furrowed his eyebrows after registering what you'd just uttered. "Did you just call me weird?" He asked, hand on his hip as if he's offended, though he truthfully isn't because he's positive you're infinitely weirder than he is, and he's more than willing to debate with you for hours on that topic.

"Nooo," you sang, quickly turning away to distract yourself with some unpacking that Steve had called you over to help him with, which you happily agreed to. A little extra time with him was time well spent.

"Yeah, okay," he rolled his eyes. He happily tucked away the flashy silverware he'd poached from his parent's kitchen into the darkest corner of the drawer, leaving the less flashy but much more appreciated utensils you bought him, front and center, ready to be shown off.

"Oh those? My best friend got them for me. Aren't they nice? Did you know they make knives for cheese?" He imagined himself saying, hoping he'd get the opportunity to boast about them to his guests some time soon.

Steve smiled to himself at the memory, angling the cutting board that harbored a pile of diced onions that he'd at last conquered, into a bowl, sliding them off with the blade of a knife that was a lot less odd shaped compared to his trusty cheese knife. It didn't even have to be that specific memory. It could've been any imagery of you being the effortlessly sarcastic, intelligent, breath-taking person that you were, and it would be the warm light to inevitably guide him out of whatever dark mood that dared to plague him.

Steve was so helplessly in love with you.

April 14, 1978, he could never forget the day, was particularly dreary. So dreary it made Steve begin to question why the spring time was thought to be such a radiant, pleasant season when all it ever did was bring rain and provoke people with allergies. Steve slammed his blaring alarm off with a groan, never bothering to pry open his tired eyes.

The sky was dark and dreadful, concealing the golden rays of the sun he yearned to see. As he trudged through the house, reluctantly gearing himself up for yet another torturous day of middle school, Steve silently prayed for some unorthodox happenstance that would call for the canceling of school.

But much to his dismay, that wasn't the case.

When the bell pierced through the classroom speakers, alerting the beginning of Steve's favorite class, P.E., he rushed to the locker room, jumping into his gym uniform, as he was determined to continue his unfaltering streak of dodgeball victories.

Steve was in the zone, taking out his opponents left and right as if it was nothing. If dodgeball was an Olympic sport, there was no doubt in anyone's mind that he could've won multiple gold medals.

Then you came.

Sauntering into sixth grade gym class, adorning a lengthy, bright yellow dress with your hair done up, looking as anxious as can be. It was your first day at Hawkins Middle and you'd just transferred halfway into the semester, all thanks to your parents decision to move to the small town, leaving New York City and all your friends behind.

Everyone turned their curious heads to peer at you, whispering amongst each other, prompting you to clutch your books tighter to your chest as if to shield yourself. Your soft smile as you looked around at your new classmates instantly made Steve's chest and stomach warm and gooey inside, making him want nothing more than to walk up to you and convince you to be his friend. Steve hated how gossipy his classmates were, as it clearly made you uncomfortable, but he couldn't bring himself to look away either.

The way the illuminous medallion hue complimented your skin tone was nothing short of art. To him, you were the sun personified. The sun he was so eager to see.

Due to your lack of sports attire, Coach Daniels had you sit on the bleachers, watching as the other kids resumed their game of dodgeball after mumbling a "warm" welcome to you, per Coach's request.

Steve lost his first game of dodgeball that day. He just couldn't seem to focus when you were perched just a few feet away, thumbing through your withered book, looking like one of the prettiest girls he'd ever laid his adolescent eyes on. Steve, or the boy with the hella good hair as you dubbed him in your diary later on that night, was too enamored with you to be bothered by the taunts coming from his friends. He jogged over to you, offering to keep you company until fourth period began, which you happily accepted.

And ever since then, the two of you have been as thick as thieves.

"Hawkins PD, open up!" Steve recognized your muffled voice, though you deepened it, to imitate a police officer. Your signature three knocks followed, urging butterflies to erupt throughout his stomach, as he longed to see you. It couldn't have been more than twenty-four hours since the two of you had last seen each other, but even one hour without you was an hour way too long for poor Steve.

"It's open", Steve called, tossing a hand towel over his shoulder, setting the stove ablaze, planting a pot over the flame. Right on time, he thought.

"Hey, Harrington," you smiled as you struggled to enter, cradling two bottles of rosé wine and your purse in your arms, pushing the door open with the help of your hip.

"Hey, sunshine. Lemme get those for ya," Steve offered, stowing your bearings on the counter gently, while you kicked your shoes off, mumbling a "thanks".

A warm amber light casted from the ceiling of the kitchen spilled into the shadowy living room a few feet away, like a neglected can of paint. The only thing that remained un-melted by the darkness was the quiet record player, as if the generous light knew you'd be looking for it the minute you walked in.

"How was your day?" Steve smirked as he watched you rush over to the object he swore was the only reason you liked to come over, sifting through the vinyl's searching for your favorite one. What’s Love Got To Do With It by Tina Turner. Steve spotted it before you did. Absentmindedly, you responded, “Not too shabby, ya know? How was yours?”

“Yeah, it was alright.”

You crouched down to the two tier storage table, running a finger across the spines of the records, searching for your beloved song. It quickly became the song you most adored when you'd bought the tape for your Walkman a few years prior. Your days weren't complete unless you played the song at least twice, so much so that Steve found himself quietly humming the song to himself whenever he'd miss you. He even caught himself doing that dumb little finger dance you normally did whenever you listened to a song you really liked. He'd never tell you that, though.

Much to your dismay, you couldn't seem to spy that sneaky record. You dropped your hand disappointedly, faintly fearsome that it'd been misplaced. Steve's apartment wasn't huge, but it wasn't exactly tidy either. “It’s right there, sweets. To your left.” So you diverted your attention to the left. No Tina Turner. “No, your other left.”

“Here?” you pointed. Steve hummed in confirmation.

“Well, that’s not the left, Steve. That’s the right,” was your response that you punctuated with a roll of your tired eyes. Apart from knowing how to get to Skull Rock with his eyes closed, the boy had zero sense of direction. It was something you found both endearing and infuriating. It depended on the day, really.

“Potato, potahto.” Oh, Steve. Melting butter into the burning pan in front of him that he almost completely forgot about, all thanks to your beautiful presence, he began sautéing his diced onions along with some fresh garlic. "Well, speaking of 'potahtoes' you need to be cooking some, 'cause you promised me dinner tonight," you smiled tight-lipped, cocking your head at an angle.

You felt the unpleasant sensation of your stomach growling, cursing you, at the heavenly thought of food as your shift at Family Video earlier today was unforgiving to your non-existent breakfast. You fumbled with the vinyl a bit as the mouthwatering aroma of home cooking stormed your senses and Steve spoke once more. "Feisty today, aren't we?"

"Just a tad," you laughed quietly.

"Well, I hate to disappoint you but tonight we're not having potatoes. I'm making your favorite," he pointed, shuffling the pan to give it a gentle stir. He made sure to turn to face you in time to see your hopefully delighted reaction. "Alfredo?!" you spun around with a glittering grin, almost knocking over Steve's plant. A fake one, of course. A real plant was a bit too much responsibility for him.

At the nod of his head, your cheesy smile soften to a smaller, less toothy one as you watched Steve while he resumed cooking. What you failed to share with your best friend was that the last phrase you'd actually use to describe your day was "not too shabby". Besides waking up almost an entire hour past the start of your shift (Keith made sure to give you an earful about that) and everyone and their mother in town deciding to be at Family Video today, it seemed like your day was never-ending. The only thing keeping your mood from turning stink to sour was the idea of going to see Steve.

Steve was kind of magical in that way. Anger, sadness, anxiety, you name it, it was no match for Steve. Though he was no poet, he had this way with words that would never fail to make you feel so comforted. So safe. Any instance where Steve had to talk you out of whatever mental turmoil you were enduring, it felt you were being endlessly wrapped in a cozy, tight blanket, sheltering you from all the darkness.

How Steve knew you were having a shit day and needed your favorite meal along with your favorite boy? Lord knows. His ability to read you without even needing to be near you was nothing short of wizardry. But like you said. Steve was magical.

"You're the best," you proclaimed, prompting a mumbled sly remark from your chef for the evening, before the music began. Being here, along with the divine sound of Tina's ethereal voice and pasta boiling in water, was more than enough to make you feel like you were right at home, though your true address was miles away. When the time to depart would make its cursed arrival, it was never easy to leave, especially with the way Steve begged for you to stay, using those unfairly adorable puppy dog eyes that paired beautifully with his lengthy lashes, against you.

And it always worked. Well, not always. You had some degree of self-control. But more times than not, you couldn't help but to cave in to his protests. How could you resist? It was Steve.

With a satisfied grin that carved deep smile lines into his blushing cheeks, he'd tuck his sheets snug around your body, repeatedly asking you if you were comfortable enough. His bed was cloud-like, plush and doughy and his pillows smelled like his shampoo and conditioner, a hint of cologne on his comforter. It was like you were trapped in a cocoon of Steve. You wanted to tell him you were beyond comfortable, that there, in his bed, you were in just about your favorite place on Earth but, habitually, you concluded that a simple nod would suffice.

Crawling onto the empty space beside you, he made sure to face you, leaving a soft squeeze on your shoulder before humming "G'night, sunshine," closing his eyes and tucking his hands under his head. And like always, Steve was a perfect gentleman, dead set on never getting under the covers himself when you'd sleep over.

Guilt would disrupt your relaxation at the sight of the brisk night chill building little hills on his freckled arms, though you selfishly loved the way he'd cuddle up to steal some of your body heat. His plump lips would part as he drifted into a peaceful slumber, light snores and chirping crickets being your lullaby.

You hoped to have another night like that soon.

In the midst of times like those, storms of wonder and doubt raged on. Was Steve like this with everyone else? Were you being silly thinking that you and Steve could be more than friends? Being Steve's best friend for nearly a decade, you knew he wasn't exactly a prude. His King Steve era was honestly one of your least favorites. Though he reserved his usual tenderness and affection all for you, you've witnessed a whole slew of girls enter and leave Steve's life, and none of them looked like you.

You wanted nothing more than to be one of the girls he'd have leaned up against his locker, arm resting next to their head, cheeks fanned by his minty breath as he whispered honeyed words. You craved dates at the drive-in theater in Steve's burgundy 1983 BMW only to neglect the movie and end up making out, like he did with other girls.

When Steve would bring his latest lover around, desperately, you did your damnedest to bury your jealousy and and fill its grave with merriment for him, because if anyone deserved to be happy, it was Steve. But the girls at school only wanted to be with Steve because of his status and all the flashy things he could buy them.

The flashy things were dull to you, though.

You wanted to be with Steve because you wanted to hold his hand and press soft kisses to his cheek. To hug him a little tighter and little longer than a best friend normally would. To run your fingers through his fluffy hair whenever he would grow stressed because you knew it calmed him down. To make him breakfast in bed when he was sick and even when he wasn't. To love him your fullest potential.

But you had to settle for this. Calves tucked under your thighs with a blanket draped over your legs as you stared off into space, longing for someone you thought you couldn't have, not knowing he was stealing glances of you wondering what was running through your pretty little head.

Resting your arm against the back of the sofa, holding your head up, your lips were downturned in a pout, eyebrows pulled together as you studied the throw pillow a few inches away from you. A little pillow can't be that interesting, something has to be bothering you, he thought. He was unapologetically curious to know if pressing his lips against your own would make that frown melt into that sweet smirk you usually had.

Steve hated when you were unhappy. It made his mind race. Did someone say something to you? Did someone do something to you? Did you eat today? How was your shift? Why did you lie when you said your day "wasn't too shabby"? Obviously it was shabby. Look at your face. That tired and troubled, cute little face. What can he do to fix it? You were his sunshine, you deserved to be happy, always.

Giving the pot a final stir and turning the flame off, Steve carelessly tossed the grease-stained hand towel flopped over his shoulder, down by the sink, strolling over to where he'd earlier set down the two bottles of wine. White Zinfandel. Neither you or Steve were wine connoisseurs, but when you called Nancy panicking about how extensive the selection at the liquor store was, she swore by it.

Balancing two glasses and a single bottle of the rose-tinted alcohol, Steve took an extra glance at your face, deciding to scoop up the second bottle into his arms. By the looks of it, it was gonna be one of those nights.

You tried to hide your smile as you noticed he was coming over, a slight grin on his face as he set the glasses down. You and him both knew he was only coming to cause trouble. He set the delicate haul down on to the thrifted wooden coffee table in front of you, slipping you one of those comforting 'Steve smiles' he usually did.

Like the forgotten towel, he threw himself down on the couch next to you, warm hand having a much softer landing on the plush of your thigh; a familiar and welcomed touch. Habitually, you curled up closer to him, no longer able to hide your smile.

"Why so glum, chum?" He tilted his chin down, slightly poking his bottom lip out, as he looked at you through batting eyelashes.

Laughing through your nose and subsequently parading a grin that displayed nothing but teeth and hollow happiness, you remarked, "What do you mean? Don't you see me smiling?"

You were fooling absolutely no one. Steve knew you were sad. And, goddamn it, he was gonna get it out of you.

"You know exactly what I mean, you weren't smiling just a few seconds ago until I came over. You're welcome, by the way, I'm flattered that I have such an effect on you," he smirked, placing a hand on his chest in gratitude.

"Okay, now I'm glum again," you roll your eyes at his not-so discreet cockiness. You hid your face in your hands, resting your forehead on Steve's shoulder. It was hard with muscle, but soft with tenderness and safety. "I was smiling at the wine, for your information."

The palm of your hand that pressed against your face muffled your words, but Steve could still understand what you said, it was evident in the way your tone was laced with satire.

"Ah, yes, that makes way more sense" Steve replied, monotone. His thumb began coasting along your skin as he urged you, "Alright, jokes aside. How are you really feeling?"

Hoisting your head up, you almost answered before he continued, "And don't give me that 'not too shabby' crap 'cause that frown you had going on earlier already snitched on ya."

When the hell did he get so observant? Steve was no idiot, but sometimes things needed to be spelled out for him. But come to think of it, you never had to spell things out for Steve whenever it came to you. He just always had a way of knowing.

"I don't know, Steve. Honestly. Some days are just a bit tougher than others. Today was one of those days," you murmured, avoiding the attentive gaze he was burning into your shifty eyes.

He slowly nodded as he processed your words, head falling on top of yours as you again found comfort on his shoulder. His eyes fluttered shut as you began mimicking the affection he was giving you on your thigh, rubbing his arm through the creamy cotton material of his crewneck. You hadn't seen it before. This one was new. So were the jeans he'd paired with it.

"Why're you dressed so nice, Harrington?"

He laughed more to himself than to you. "Well, the food can't be the only thing that looks good, you know? Wanted to look nice too. It's our first dinner together, after all," he mumbled the last bit.

Steve felt the skin around your eyes tighten against his shoulder as your eyebrows scrunched together. "We've had dinner together before, though."

"This one's different," he replied, almost instantly. You'd hoped Steve's eyes were still closed so that he wouldn't see the bashfulness you were weathering, plucking the corners of your lips into a soft smile.

A silence fell between the two of you. Not unusual. Not awkward. Never unusual or awkward. There was a mutual cherishment of moments like these. Shamelessly invading each other's personal space on the couch as if it was made to only fit one person, music playing lowly the distance, but preferring to listen to the sound of the other's breathing.

"How can I make you feel better, sunshine?" Steve questioned, voice still hushed. The volume of your voice wasn't much louder as you responded, thoughtlessly, "You don't have to ask me that. You make me feel better without even trying."

"Oh yeah?" He craned his neck so that his head was impossibly closer to yours, awaiting your confirmation. Steve knew that you enjoyed his company, as he did yours, but he was only joking earlier when he gushed about having such an effect on you. It was now his turn to hide his blush, when you hum, nodding your head fervently.

These were the warm moments that confused you so much more than any subject in school ever did. And unbeknownst to you, it messed with Steve's head too. He'd never been this close with anyone before. Especially not with any of his "girlfriends" in the past. Sure, they'd cuddle and talk about their feelings. But it never felt the way it does with you. Steve was in love with you. It was hopeless.

And he had to make it known. Soon. If not, he swore he'd explode.

"Ready to eat?"

"Mhm," you buzzed, untangling yourself from the envelop of Steve. As he pressed his knuckles into the sofa, willing himself up, you reached for the bottle of wine and a glass, but your hand only made it so far until it felt the sting of a petty swipe from the boy next to you. "Ah ah, missy, dinner first. Lord knows how many hours its been since you last ate."

You snorted, "Relax, it hasn't been that long."

"Oh yeah? When was the last time?" He looked at you with raised eyebrows and an expression that said he already knew your answer was going to be ridiculous. And if there was anything you learned tonight, it was that Steve was highly skilled at knowing when you were lying, so instead, you left him with a goofy smile and giggle that told him he was absolutely right in his assumption.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," the spot where he sat went cold as he left to the kitchen, fixing two plates for the both of you. You moved the drinks and glasses over to the dining table, using a nearby lighter to ignite the accompanying lavender and vanilla scented candles. Tina Turner's vinyl was replaced with Tears for Fears' album Songs from The Big Chair instead, as Steve used his elbow to dim the kitchen lights, hands full with heavy plates of pasta.

"Oh my gosh, this looks so good! Good job, Stevie," you cheered, as he set your plate down in front of you, pouring you a much needed glass of wine. Your hands shook with hunger or excitement, or both, as you picked up your fork, ready to dig in. "Yeah, don't get too psyched yet. Let's hope it tastes as good as it looks."

"I'm sure it does."

His knee rests against yours as he sits adjacent to you, gathering food on his fork, though his eyes are peering at you, awaiting your verdict. The mouthwatering smell of garlic, butter, cheese and other heaven-sent elements overwhelm your nose and you feel like you can't eat it soon enough. You pause for a beat and so does his heart, hand over your messy mouth as you chew. Steve's hand twitches as he contemplates wiping the sauce from the corners of your lips and licking his finger clean.

"Steve," you begin, eyes flickering shut. "I'm gonna need you to cook for me every night. This is so fucking good." The tension in his face eases at your palpable delight, mission well accomplished. He was proud of himself. Very proud. Almost as much as you were of him.

You throw your head back, the purest form of satisfaction consuming you. "I'm glad you like it, I've been trying to nail it for weeks," Steve laughs, finally taking a bite for himself.

"Well, you've succeeded," you beam, washing it down with a sip of wine. Everybody Wants to Rule the World begins playing and you smile at Steve, knowing it was his favorite song at the moment. You nod your head along as Steve hums. A truly peaceful pocket in time.

Through the large windows opening the living room to the rest of Hawkins, you had the perfect view of the bright lights and mountainous buildings from the neighboring city. It was like the sky had flipped on its axis and the stars weren't in the sky anymore, they were among the trees and high rise properties.

"Steve, look how pretty," you point towards the window as his gaze shifts from you to raindrop-riddled glass. "I love being able to see the city so close. Sucks that we can't see the stars, though. I've always wanted to go stargazing."

"Yeah, I remember you mentioning that a while ago. We gotta go one of these days," he replied, shoving a forkful of alfredo into his mouth.

"Oh, did you wanna go too?"

He shrugs his shoulders, chewing before speaking, "Eh, I'm not really a big stars guy. Besides, if I wanna see a pretty little light, all I gotta do is look at you," he says inattentively, going right back to eating as if he hadn't just said the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to you.

"Shut up, Harrington," you roll your eyes, letting out a half-hearted laugh as you take your last bite. How could he flirt with you so easily? So carelessly? Couldn't he see that you loved him and that whenever he says things like that it does something to you? Clueless boy.

"I'm serious. Why do you think I always call you sunshine?" He replies, not a hint of irony in his face.

"Steve," you warn, sitting back in your chair. You didn't know where this conversation was going, and you'd be damned if you got your hopes up for what you always got whenever you did: absolutely nothing.

"It's why I love when you wear yellow. Reminds me of the first time I ever saw you," he pressed. He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Clueless girl.

"Steve," your voice wavered. "What? Why do you keep saying my name like that?" He laughed, dryly.

He grew worried that he was saying too much. Saying things that a person shouldn't say to their best friend. He took a sip of his wine. Then another. Then another. He was considering just downing the whole glass. Maybe he was saying too much.

Screw that, he was in love with you.

"What're you saying to me right now?" You charged, voice a little harsher than what you'd intended, but you demanded an answer. A straightforward one. "I'm saying that I'm done hiding it."

"Hiding what?"

"That I love you."

The revelation yanks your parted lips shut, unsure of what to say next. You had dreamed for what felt like a lifetime for Steve to say those words to you and at last, it was no longer a dream, but instead reality. The rapid pace of your heartbeat could be felt in your chest and ears, and the butterflies in your stomach were more wild and untamed than ever before.

Steve's eyes didn't leave yours, though the stillness from you was killing him. The silence between you two that was once never awkward or unusual, was now painful and nearly unbearable.

Your dilated pupils scanned over his face, relentlessly. The jokey, teasing grin that he often sported when he was messing with you was unaccounted for. Holy shit. The gate to your thoughts opened once more. "You're serious," you whispered.

"How could I not be?" Steve watched you with adoring eyes, the warm light of the candle giving the melted chocolatey pond the sweetest infusion of honey.

"Kiss me."

Forks and butter knives fall to the ground with several, loud unpleasant clanks as Steve leans over the square dining table, hungrily pressing his lips against yours. His lips are garlicky and a little chapped, as yours probably are as well, yet the kiss is nothing short of perfect.

His mouth does a passionate dance against yours as you follow his lead, embracing the plush little pillows with your own. It was both everything you've imagined it'd be and nothing like you'd thought at the same time. You already knew Steve was an amazing kisser. Anyone who went to Hawkins High knew it. But experiencing it for yourself was completely different and new. It was euphoric.

The two of you have to reluctantly pull yourselves off of each other to catch your breaths. This moment was a long time coming.

Steve's hands are still holding onto to either side of your face, unwilling to let you go just yet. Truly savoring every second of the present. His breath fans across your cupid's bow, as he smiles against your lips. "You drive me crazy, you know that?"

Giggling, you wrap your palms and fingers around his wrists, rubbing your nose on his. "Sorry," you shrug, feeling his thumbs caress your warm cheeks.

"Don't be," he shakes his head, engulfing your soft lips into another kiss.

message from jojo: pls comment and reblog if you enjoyed! it means a lot <3

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kookslastbutton · 1 year

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Too Late to Dream ༓ jjk (m) || Series Masterlist

✑ Summary: You did it. You married your college professor. You even bought a house together. Against all odds, everything had fallen into place. But after two years of marriage, you begin feeling something was missing. You want a baby but your husband can’t say the same.

Pairing: economics professor!jungkook x fem!artist!reader

AU/Genre: angst, smut, fluff, marriage au, age gap, slice of life series

Word count: 44k

Rating: M, 18+

Warnings: 8-year age gap, professor-student relationship (oc was a Masters student), lots of family drama, fighting, pent-up issues/desires, jk has daddy issues, therapy, sexual content, flashbacks + more specific warnings per chapter

Now Playing: Make It Right, Tryna Be, Infinity, Heaven+

A/N: Ummm so I don't ever do series but....I can't help it this time :) big thing– jk is not a complete butt. This is not a "jk finally coming around after treating oc like garbage for wanting a kid". It's more of a we'll figure it out together kind thing, though there will be bumps in the road. Pls enjoy and lmk what you think 🥰

Chapters

༓ ch. I – "This eternal night with no end in sight" (4.1k)

༓ ch. II – "Just hold me silently like you did that day, that time" (5k)

༓ ch. III – “I could make it better” (3.3k)

༓ ch. IV – “I could hold you tighter” (4.1k)

༓ ch. V – “I can make it right” (3.3k)

༓ ch. VI – “Its you who gifted me the morning” (6.1k)

༓ ch. VII – “Can I now hold that hand?” (6.6k)

༓ ch. VIII – “Oh you're the light” (8.6k)

⤷ three month check-in

༓ epilogue: stargaze (4k)

Drabbles

↪ Surprising each other with gifts on the same day (requested)

↪ Jungkook proposing after two years of dating (requested)

↪ Happy Birthday, My Love - recreating Love 911 kiss scene (requested)

note: if you would like to request a drabble lmk ☺💗

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

#jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook imagine #jungkook fanfic #bts smut #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts au #fic:toolatetodream #kookslastbutton

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satoluv · 10 months

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YOU ALWAYS HAD ME — synopsis: what would you do if your hot best friend agreed to fake date you to make your ex-boyfriend jealous? will it ruin your friendship or will it prevail into something more?

⤿ gojo satoru x fem! reader — short smau

# tags ⤿ romance, fluff, light angst, fake dating, childhood love, reader is too oblivious TT. modern au. uni (?) au

lily’s note ⤿ not sure if ppl will like this smau! but i’m taking a break from my other smau, lol but i’ll try to continue this! because this plot is easier for me, and i enjoy it so pls enjoy as much as i do! if you wna be tagged tell me okies.

likes and reblogs appreciated! 💕💕 pls be kind to me

CHAPTERS

⤿ [ 01 ] be my baby

⤿ [ 02 ] come over & ice cream

⤿ [ 03 ] the love you deserve

⤿ curious what yn wrote? click here bb !!! ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა <3

⤿ [ 04 ] date to where

⤿ [ 05 ] jealousy, jealousy

⤿ [ 06 ] heartbreaking

⤿ [ 07 ] love me more than wave to earth

⤿ [ 08 ] wna’ come?

⤿ [ 09 ] the fav child’s bf

⤿ [ 10 ] hidden secrets & feelings

⤿ [ 11 ] hiii boyfriend 💞

⤿ [ 12 ] satoru junior

⤿ [ 13 ] bff date

⤿ [ 14 ] my coquette bf

⤿ [ 15 ] will you be my valentines?

⤿ [ 16 ] - !

currently my posting schedule will be fri & the weekends! thank you all for being patient ily 🥹💕

taglist [CLOSED please don’t ask anymore, thank you!] : @hexrts-anatomy @k4romis @soy-garbage @avatar-of-procrastination @lees-chaotic-brain @pastatata @maybe-a-bi-witch @vivi-loves-penguins @reagan707 @iluv-ace @dazaisfavgf @tiredflame132 @dreamxiing @inorixonline @tobaccosunbxrst

series m.list | main m.list

@ satoluv do not plagiarize, translate, or rewrite my writings without my permission !

#jjk smau #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk gojo #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smau #gojo smau #satoru smau #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #lily writes! ೀ⋆｡˚

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beforeimdeceased · 1 year

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🌴 YOU CAN WHISTLE FOR IT 🍦

content: nsfw content, mdni. guys i do NOT condone cheating this is a fanfic pls don’t beat me up 😔 i’ll delete it if you want…felt like giving abby a little love & was listening to my fav unreleased lana and my brain started braining so! enjoy i swear i’ll shut up now. feedback, likes, reblogs, comments, and asks greatly appreciated!

🏩 ‧₊˚✩彡

maybe it was her raspy laugh or the cadence in her voice. perhaps it was the way her eyes always focused on you amidst a crowded room. you could even say you were using her for her mechanic skills, but you couldn’t shake being with abagail anderson.

cigarette between her teeth, braid hanging low, and her muscles glistening in the sun was all you could think about for days after she’d moved in. she was very very hot, and very very married.

her and her lady had found themselves with a preference for the simple suburban life after eloping. packed everything up and moved to the outskirts, right next door to you.

before your sultry nights of passion at a hush hush hotel down the road and out of town, you’d gotten along well with the family in a neighborly manner.

a hello every morning and a smile while taking the garbage out, coupled with a “this weather, right?” had rendered you acquaintances. at least in your head. unfortunately, everything went belly up one rainy friday night.

abby, drenched from head to toe had found herself at your door. it had rained down on her so hard that the water was pooling inside her shoes. everytime she blinked her eyes became wet and salty and her only asylum was found on your porch.

you anwser the door in a rush after hearing three loud and heavy handed knocks. who could’ve possibly wanted anything at this time with the weather like this?

well, it was none other than abby who’d looked like a wounded dog. the prettiest puppy eyes you’d ever seen flashed at you once and she was ushered to your bathroom for a warm shower.

when she got out, you gave her some clothes your brother had left on one of his visits. unfortunately, all of your shirts and pants were too small for her muscles. she was more than happy with anything you gave her, though.

“thanks hun.” is a toothy smile. and “what are you cooking?” is full of innuendo and “i think you’re pretty too.” leads you to your doom. sat on the counter with the blonde’s head between your thighs and a pussy drunk laugh vibrating against your core making her tongue hurt so good in all the right places.

maybe her hands and her voice and all of her sweet words was what made you meet her at a motel on a rainy saturday night, reminiscent of your first time. matching set scattered across the floor, her mouth tattooing hickies down your neck, and her hands grappling at you like you’ll run away. there will be a bruise in the morning that your manager is going to ask about but you don’t care. you can’t care right now.

she is everything but escapable. lustrous, confident, and incredibly easy on the eyes. she knows how to show a woman a good time. you were yet to be sure if you were fortunate that the woman is you. oh, and her wife.

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actuallysaiyan · 7 months

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>bacon bacon bacon!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

>you SNAPPED with this v-day event omg i loveeeeee it

>i would like to submit my request pls☝️😋

>may i pls have:

• Reader/Character tries to plan the most romantic Valentine’s Day, but everything falls through and they have to try and improvise to impress their loved one!

>with our darling nanamin!!! nsfw would be so lovely 🤭 i give you full creative liberties here, i know whatever you come up with will be PERFECT

>thank u luv u kkkbyeee ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎

warnings: smut, use of vibrator, kissing, heavy petting word count: 1.1k pairings: Kento Nanami x Fem!Reader summary: you end up messing up everything you touch on Valentine's Day, and despite this, Kento still manages to fix it all by one little touch...

Tears well up in your eyes as you pull the burnt roast from the oven. This day was just getting worse and worse, and you weren’t sure you could even begin to improvise to make it better. Worst thing was that Kento would be home within the hour and you literally had nothing ready for him. Your heart ached at the thought of not being able to give your husband the best Valentine’s Day ever. You wanted nothing more than to restart this day if only to get a second chance at this.

With a heavy heart, you turn off the oven and throw the dish into the garbage. Everything was ruined and there was no point in trying to even salvage it. Even the flowers you had ordered for Kento had been the wrong one. How could a florist fuck up so hard on Valentine’s Day? How could they accidentally send you funeral flowers and not give you some sort of compensation on their part?

You flop on the couch, your cute little apron looking like a bit of a joke now. You weren’t really wearing much under it. Just a pair of silky panties and some thigh-high stockings. The kind that Kento is absolutely crazy over. You groan when you realize there’s a big tear in it; somehow your stockings had runs in them.

This was just getting worse and worse. You calmly take a deep breath and decide to just order dinner from your delivery app. You find a restaurant offering a meal for two that looks succulent and delicious. It may not be home cooked, but you know that Kento enjoys this restaurant as well as you do. You go into the bedroom, and you consider changing into something a little more sexier. You find the red and pink lingerie and you throw it on. You change your stockings as well, then you throw on your favorite silky robe.

With that, you begin lighting the candles in the living room. Only problem is, they are all melting way quicker than you’d like. With a sigh, you turn on the fairy lights and wait for the food to be delivered. But as you wait, your eyes grow heavy from all the hard work you’ve done all day. Slowly, you fall asleep much to your own dismay.

“Honey?” You hear a soft but deep voice ask. You grunt softly as you begin to open your eyes.

“Oh no! No no no!” You whine softly, realizing your mistake. You had fallen asleep when you shouldn’t have.

Kento looks at you confused, unsure how to deal with this. You look so cute right now, but he hates whenever you’re troubled. He places the take-out that he grabbed from the delivery driver downstairs on the table in front of you. Then he kneels in front of you, his cock throbbing the minute he gets a whiff of your perfume.

“What’s wrong, darling?” Kento asks, his large hands soothing up and down your stocking-clad thighs.

You pout, “I fell asleep. I bet I missed the delivery guy…”

Kento motions over to the bag he just placed on the coffee table, and this soothes you immediately. He’s got another bag nearby too, one you recognize being from one of your favorite stores. Then you realize there’s more than one bag there. It makes your heart ache because you know this valentine’s day is just the pits for you.

“I fucked up, Ken. I wanted this to be perfect, but the florist sent the wrong flowers…” you point at the bouquet of funeral flowers. “And I burnt the roast that I wanted to make you for dinner.”

He smiles sadly, his heart so full of love. You really went out of your way to make this day so special for him, and even if you hit a few snags in the road, he knows you worked so hard to make sure it was going to be a good day regardless. He leans in and he cups your cheeks between his large hands and gives you such a sweet kiss.

“Hey, it’s okay. This night isn’t ruined…in fact, why don’t I take you into the bedroom and introduce you to your new gift?”

Your cheeks burn at his words, but you nod your head. He gathers you into his arms, carrying you bridal style. He only stops once to grab one of the bags; this one is silver and opaque. It’s clearly from the sex shop you and Kento frequent often.

Your heart pounds when he lays you on the bed and unties the knot holding your robe closed. Once again, his cock throbs in his dress pants as he sees you dressed in such cute lingerie for him. The pink and the red stand out nicely, especially for the holiday. You look so damn sexy to him, and you’re always such a good wife. Who cares if this day didn’t go exactly as you had it planned? Now that you’re both together, it can go so well from this moment on.

He pulls out a wand vibrator from the bag and a bottle of water-based lubricant. You let out a strangled whine when he plugs in the vibrator and turns it on. Kento takes his time teasing you. He runs it over your chest, your breasts and your nipples at first. The vibrations are deep and they excite you like crazy.

“That’s it, pretty baby. Just relax and let me take good care of you.” Kento murmurs against your skin as he presses the vibrator against your clothed cunt.

You pant and mewl as the vibrations tease you through your silky little panties. Your cunt clenches around nothing; the wetness is seeping through the fabric of your underwear. Kento’s watching you with lustful eyes. He doesn’t always get this kind of time alone with you, so he knows he’s going to take full advantage of it.

“There you go, pretty baby. Just go with it.” He guides you, then you gasp when you feel him pull your panties to the side.

The minute the vibrator hits your clit, you know you’re pretty much done for. You squirm and writhe under him, bucking your hips to be able to get that much stimulation. Kento isn’t a tease either, he wants you to feel good. He presses a button and the vibrations get faster and harder, making you pant and cry out his name.

“That’s it,” he grunts. “Just let go for me,”

A few more swipes of the vibrator against your clit and you’re coming undone in such an earth shattering orgasm. Kento watches you carefully, making sure he can draw all this beautiful pleasure from you. He’s planning on spending most of the night between your thighs anyway. As you slowly begin to come down, this is when you watch him get undressed and crawl on the bed.

“Now,” he says before kissing you deeply. “Are you ready for the main event?”

#bacon.writes #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #Nanami Kento x you #Nanami Kento x reader #nanami x fem!reader #nanami smut #nanami imagine #jjk #jjk nanami x reader #jjk nanami x you #jjk imagines #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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askinkiskarma · 1 year

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ꜰᴀʟꜱᴇ ɢᴏᴅ | ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪɪ: ɪ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ꜰᴇᴇʟ ᴀʟɪᴠᴇ 'ᴛɪʟ ɪ'ᴍ ʙᴜʀɴɪɴ' ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴀᴄᴋʙᴜʀɴᴇʀ

pairing: dilf!Jake Sully x (f)human/avatar!reader

synopsis: Jake struggles to adapt with the way being next to you is making him feel.

this story will contain an unhealthy, co-dependent relationship, and dark themes (smut, mental health, death, violence, infidelity), so pls read at your own discretion.

warnings: 18+ minors DNI, angst, age-gap (23 vs 43), (a little) smut at the end

wc: 6.1k words

a/n: umm, hi there?? do you remember me? i know it's been such a long time and I am so so sorry, but I am backkk besties!!! i am so happy to finally be able to complete chapter two and I hope you enjoy because it's quickly picking up pace. i really hope this isn't garbage, i'm so so out of practice and so insecure about my writing, but i still hope you are able to understand and enjoy this, because i am so excited to finally be back writing.

ps: this story will move perspectives and timelines a lott, so i hope it's not too confusing but pls do let me know if it is and i'll figure something out xx

replies and reblogs are massively appreciated, i loveee to hear from you so much!

na'vi compendium: tanhi - bioluminescent freckles, paskalin - sweet berry (term of endearment)

series masterlist (x)

Maybe I'm just not better than this, I haven't tried Maybe life's less romantic when I don't wanna die You'd think I'd be a fast learner But guess I won't ever mind crisping up on your backburner

Jake has always felt comfortable in nature. Even back on Earth, the comfort of a bed was a luxury mostly lost on him throughout his life. It was peaceful, and comforting, feeling the ground beneath his feet, beneath his skin, malleable and nurturing, like a warm embrace. It was a given here, with the connection the Na’vi had with the world around them, with the forest surrounding them, that he would become one with it, too, that he would find solace in it. He did, most days. Just not tonight, as he lay on the slightly damp surface with an arm underneath his head for support, trying to find meaning in the stars that were still so beautiful and bright they took his breath away, trying to calm his erratic heartbeat and his wandering thoughts.

What was that? This whole day, that conversation that was still ringing in his ears like an insipid echo, making sweat bead on his forehead and trickle down his temples, until they were one with the soil. Why would you say that? What possessed him to confide in you about parts of his life he forsook, he gave up what felt like eternities ago?

He’s never truly noticed you before. The shy, timid girl who was far too attuned to others’ feelings to be able to overlook the disdain still present in some members’ of the clan when it came to anything human, always holed up in that lab he hated, that was at odds with everything he’s come to known and too much like everything he was trying his best to leave behind. It used to be different back then, when you were young, just a child craving connection and companionship, always tied to the hip to his eldest son, Neteyam, where Spider always took more to his two middle children. Par for the course, he thought. You and Neteyam were much alike, and somehow still managed to complement each other well, at the same time. He used to think you’d be good for him, back then. Not that he’d ever tell Neytiri that, the seemingly blasphemous idea, but yes - he thought that, even before you got an Avatar. But now, the thought made him uneasy - queasy, even. It wouldn’t be right. Your relationship would be frowned upon, and the Omaticaya would never look at you and see the future Tsa’hik that’s meant to lead them, to interpret their deity’s way. You were too fragile, too tuned in to your own and others’ emotions to be able to overcome it, and it would break you. Being with Neteyam would break you.

The night was torturous and slow, so many thoughts eating away at him like a disease. By the time Eclipse passed, he was ready for this trip to be over. Being here with you alone wasn’t good, he realises now. It was a mistake, to talk to you, to look into your eyes, to notice you. Because now that he did, he couldn’t stop. The way your Avatar body twitched in sleep, the way he couldn’t help wonder what you were doing in your human body - were you sleeping, like you should be? Was this on your mind, this night, the same way it was his? Were you cramming everything you once used to do in a day in the few hours you had in your now secondary body?

“Oh, kid. You better know how to fix this better than I do.”

“Is the Avatar safe?”

Norm trusted Jake with his life, and still, he knew he had to ask. The scientist in him, the Avatar program leader de facto, he’s always taken every responsibility, every chance to prove himself to the Na’vi and to his late mentor, Grace Augustine, very seriously. And that included taking care of you. You were not his blood, but you were his family, and he wanted to protect you, he wanted you to be alright. And so when Jake suggested getting some much needed tutelage, he was happy to wait until the night to hear all about it.

“You know it is.”

“How did it go?”

“Well, I think. He was right, I guess. I definitely feel a bit more comfortable outside of the village, of all the prying eyes.”

“Amazing. Do you have plans for tomorrow?”

“I’m… not sure. I think… I overstepped.” The blush in your cheeks and eyes glued to your fiddling feet made Norm’s brown eyebrow rise, a small grimace mirroring the one marring your beautiful, soft features. Still, he placed a hand on your head, gently brushing the stray hairs that were raised from the hours of being in the cryocapsule.

“I find that hard to believe.”

“He… told me about his life on earth. About his father, and I… made a comment. I have no idea how he reacted to it, but now that I’m here, I have no chance to fix it.”

“I’m sure whatever it is, it’s not as bad as you think. We always tend to overthink in our heads, and, as humans, we always tend to see the worst in ourselves. You, more than most.”

After helping you out, making sure you were settled on your wobbly, weak knees, he gave your shoulder a small squeeze and left to his quarters, but not before telling you one last thing.

“I think someone overstepping once in a while is exactly what a man who’s always obeyed needs. Go to sleep, love.”

The next morning, you felt dizzy as you woke up in the forest, slight groan audible with every stretch that allowed your sore muscles to loosen. You weren’t surprised to see Jake already up, busying himself with gutting a fish which would most likely constitute your breakfast. You gulped at the sight of him, veiny arms expertly handling the animal, his relaxed postured at odds with the slight frown on his face. Was that because of you? Was he mad at you? What possessed you to talk to him like he was a friend and not the Toruk Makto, the mighty Olo’eyktan? What possessed you to confess about an old crush, that died with your innocence about the world, about the same time you finally started to notice how the Omatikaya, particularly Neytiri, have looked at you all your life.

“Um, good morning.”

His eyes flickered over to you, lingering for a second longer than they needed to on your golden eyes before turning back swiftly, and the expression he adorned, a mixed between shame, guilt and desire, would have been obvious to anyone with more life experience, but not to you. Still, you noticed the blush in his cheeks, and couldn’t help the anxiety bubbling in your chest at what… or whom, might be the cause of it.

“‘Morning, kid. D’you sleep well?”

“I guess. You?”

“One of us have to stay up and keep an eye out for predators, you know. Can’t have you get eaten before I’m done teaching you how to defend yourself.” His smile was teasing, and if it was an effort to put your mind at ease, you did appreciate it. It made what you had to say next come out easier.

“Listen, Jake… what I said last night… it was none of m-“

“It’s alright, kid. It’s been a while since anyone’s contradicted me, apart from my wife, so…” his laugh was rugged and unforced, and you couldn’t help join in at the sonorous melody that rang in your ears and all of a sudden couldn’t imagine being without.

“So you don’t hate me?”

Jake’s eyes settled on your own, but not before flickering to your parted lips, so focused and eager, you were clinging on to his every word, waiting desperately to be put out of your misery.

“No, kid. I don’t hate you.”

Jake didn’t know what was wrong with him, but he did know one thing: it was just a stupid conundrum, nothing more. He didn’t feel anything for you, he was just taken aback by someone who seemed to be a lot more intuitive and incisive about someone’s inner workings than he gave you credit for. But that’s it. Just because you talked about something he cared about, that nobody asked him about, just because he confessed to you feelings he hasn’t said out loud in more than 24 years… that didn’t mean anything. He had a mate. A mate he loved, a mate he was sworn to forever. He had a family, children, a life. It was nothing. So he did his duty and helped you, keeping a safe distance and the conversation to a minimum, outside of instructions he ought to give you. Still, despite his apprehensions, being with you was easy. You were docile and listened well, you were quiet and kept to yourself, and, in the moments you did talk, there was a pureness, a light to your heart that made his own feel lighter.

“Good form. Now focus on the target and, when you’re ready…”

He watched as the arrow flew at high speed and travelled the length of the forest until it hit the ground next to a tree marked with an X - a makeshift target, but it did the job.

“Release.”

“Sorry.” Your ashamed disposition was as clear as day on your face and in your body language, and the purple twinge in your cheeks brought forth the luminosity of your tanhi and he hated himself for noticing it to begin with.

“Don’t be. You did well. Just make sure you draw all the way back before releasing. The target’s a bit narrower than you’re used to, so you’re doing well.”

His eyes softened taking you in. A sigh reverberated from deep within his chest and he said the words before he could stop himself, fully knowing he might regret them later.

“Let’s focus on your tracking instead for a little while. A change of scenery might do you well.”

He knew he should leave the tracking skills for back to the village, for someone else to teach you. He should just hurry back home - to his life, to his wife, to the normalcy he’s both craving and desperately afraid of. Any extra time spent with you is time where he could talk and say something, confess something else that is better left unsaid, fall prey to your uncanny ability to see through him, to will out words he hasn’t even realised he’s been dying to say out loud.

The ground was wet and cold, accentuated by the heavy moisture surrounding you. it still took getting used to, the air, breathing it in and out, like you were born to do so, such a colossal departure from the mask that covered your face for most of 23 years of your life. Still, it was a blessing, and one you made sure to appreciate with every breath you took. You forgot a little about it, all the gratitude, as the air felt particularly dense and thick as you took it in, as the man you now called mentor crawled skilfully like a steady, stealthy apex predator, little to no evidence of his presence other than the hand that was rested carefully on the small of your back, sending bouts of electricity all throughout your body. His voice was quiet as he spoke it near your ear, a velvet shroud that enveloped you and stirred something in you, something primal and carnal, something you’ve never felt before. What was happening to you? What was he doing to you?

“Lower, kid. The lower you are to the ground, the fainter your scent, the easier to hide.”

“I-it’s… hard.”

You could hear his smirk as he answered your quiet protestation, and you wondered whether he found it endearing or irksome, praying and hoping with as much power as you still had left in you that it was the former.

“I know, girl. Guess we’ll have to train those abs for more core strength, huh?”

You were happy your back was to him so he couldn’t see the violent blush haunting your cheeks, but even so, there was little you could do about your rampant heart or your heaving breath.

“I can hear your heartbeat like it’s echoing through the whole forest. And if I can, every other animal on a half a click radius can, too. You have to learn to calm your mind. Can you do that for me?”

Although what he was asking of you seemed impossible, considering his touch set your body and soul ablaze and your mind’s already erratic rumination seemed to reach an incandescent high, you tried, and although every muscle in your body hurt and ached, much like the first few times you allowed yourself to train in this body, you did as you were told, and, by early afternoon, you managed to track a pack of Yarik without even as much of a perk of the ear to give you away. You remember still, those early days, like they were happening to you now, as you stood here, in your bedroom, as the tears blurred the familiar space, the rock you were holding so tightly in your hand that it was cutting through your palm until all that inundated your sight was a watercolour red stain. You should have known then. What would follow. When he touched you, how it made you feel, you should have known to stay away. Norm once told you life, especially in your 20s, was about the joys and miseries of growing pains, but if you knew, how the journey was full of polarising extremes that pulled at every fibre of your being, how the high was insurmountable, but the pain was unbearable, maybe you would have thought twice before jumping in.

You wonder if he knew, then. If he felt it, too. You wonder if he realised that this was the beginning of the end, if the pull you felt was the same one that drove him to what came after, to all he ended up putting on the line. You wondered if it was all a ploy, getting you alone, or if he truly just wanted to help, innocent and undiscerning, just a dutiful Olo’eyktan. You thought you knew his heart, and how much it hid and how much it hurt, you thought you came to know it all through all this time, but as the bleeding in your heart mirrored your gashing palm, you weren’t sure anymore.

“Come.”

The Yarik were all gone now, unfrightened by your unassuming presence, which you took as a win. Still, you almost flinched when his now much louder voice rang above the quiet murmur of the forest.

“Where?”

“You worked hard today, so you deserve a break. And I know just the spot.”

Jake wasn’t sure if it was a good idea, what he was about to do, but he knew you needed something to break apart the times of pain and struggle. It was something he’s learnt, being here, on Pandora, as one of the people, that there was more to life than duty, than sacrifice and pain, then the daily struggle of fitting in, of pitching in, of simply existing. You had to live life, face it, enjoy it. And he wanted you to have that, especially now. He understood, more than most, what it was like to be inhibited and trapped to a space or a time, paralysed, literally or figuratively to your immutable circumstance. For him, it was his legs, trapping him in a body he hated and couldn’t recognise, in habits he took on just like the soldier he’s always been, because there was nothing else he could do. For you, it was your human body, that confined you to the lab, to a mask, to a life that could never be experienced fully, until now. So, despite a small part, probably the logical part of his mind, telling him he should just keep the training going or go home, he decided to share with you a place he found while hunting for food last night. And when he saw your face as you took it in, all doe-eyed and bushy tailed, ears twitching enthusiastically and a beautiful, innocent smile taking over your whole face, he knew he made the right call. He found his own smile brewing without being able to contain it, your joy so contagious, it was like the whole world shone just a little brighter than it had a few minutes ago.

“Jake… I love it. Thank you.”

The roar of the waterfall crashing on the otherwise peaceful lake almost drowned your words, and he laughed at the way you were tentatively approaching the water, as if scared that the caress of it on your skin might hurt your already aching muscles.

“Good. Let’s see how you like it up close.”

And with that, and a gentle tap on your shoulder, a loud splash ensued where you hit the water. He laughed yet again at the way you emerged from it, wet and startled and almost as if you could not believe what just happened.

“I-I… you… I cannot believe you did that!”

He couldn’t help how much fun it was, doing this, being with you - it was as if for the first time in ages, in decades, being alive was fun again. It was as if this forest was completely separated from his own, from what was waiting for him back home, the unsurmountable pressure that plagued him every second of every day, especially since the humans returned.

“Believe it, kid. You need to learn to let loose once in a while, you know?”

You rolled your eyes, but seemed intrigued by his preposition.

“I will if you will.”

And so he did. And for the next few hours, life was easygoing and fun, and spending time in your presence felt like coming out for a deep breath when it felt like he’d been drowning. He’s learnt you didn’t really know how to swim, and that the first song you’ve ever learnt on piano was one you deeply related to, that he’s made you promise you’d sing to him, and he found out plenty of small things, but nothing important, or of substance. It was clear to him more and more you loved being the one asking the questions and never the one answering them, and, soon enough, here you were again, curious as a cat about things nobody else was when it came to him.

“Did you ever expect it?” the sun was still shining brightly upon you both, warming your strong, supple bodies as you floated in the otherwise cold water. Eclipse wasn’t too far behind, but right now, neither of you particularly seemed to care.

“What’s that?” You continued floating, looking intently at the sky - focused or too embarrassed to look at him, Jake couldn’t really tell.

“Everything. What you did, what happened. Did you ever expect it, when you were offered a place on a shuttle to Pandora?” Once again, Jake was taken aback by your propensity of asking deep, profound, intimate questions like you were asking about the weather. He wondered briefly if you realised that that’s not how most people talked.

“No… I didn’t. I didn’t care, about the job or the mission. I cared about the money. And later, about the chance to get my legs back.”

“Do you ever miss it? Being… normal.”

“I was given a second chance - a purpose bigger than me, bigger than the measly life I left behind. I -“ this finally got your attention, and for the first time since your first question, you adjusted your position in the water so that you were fully facing him, inquiring eyes like beads of light and focus, intent on taking in every expression, every shift in mood, every slight adjustment of his face. You tried again, this time more forceful and intense, this time almost demanding of his full attention.

“That wasn’t my question. It’s a privilege, and an honour, to be who you are…”

He struggled as he always did to stifle a roll of his eyes and the speech he’s heard a million times before, from his wife, or his Tsa’hik, from every villager of the Omatikaya, from every other tribe leader he’s ever met through diplomatic missions. The answer he always kept at the ready was caught in his throat, because you kept going.

“…but I’m sure it’s also tiring, and hard. And lonely. So do you ever miss it? Do you ever wish things could go back to the way they were? Do you ever wish you didn’t have to be there for everybody all the time?”

He looked at you, pleading, not knowing whether he needed you to stop or keep going, only knowing it hurt, being torn at the seams like that between two choices that both led to heartbreak and epiphanies he wasn’t ready to face nor strong enough to deal with on his own, especially right now.

“Kid…”

“I went too far again, didn’t I? What is wrong with me?”

The attempt to get out of the lake was swiftly overthrown by his much stronger physique keeping you in place, caging you in between the edge of the lake and his muscular arms. Jake wasn’t an emotional man, he wasn’t one to be overcome with feelings that could cloud his judgement, that could interfere with a plan of action and yet, standing there, in that moment, your wide golden eyes looking fearfully and surprisedly up at him, the rapid pulse of your heart clearly visible in your carotid artery running up your neck, he felt his mind clouded and his own heart trembling with the overwhelming, unexpected urge to taste you, to feel those lips crashing over his, your tongues intertwined, his fingers wander in wondrous places he was sure no one else had before. He needed you, like he’s scarcely ever needed anything else, like he rarely ever allowed himself to. But you weren’t his, you never would be. And this was wrong and immoral, and it didn’t matter - that you seemed to be able to see right through him, that everything you said cut like a knife through all the bullshit and pretence, that your pupils were so wide they were swallowing the golden of your irises, that he could feel that you wanted it too. None of it mattered.

“You didn’t go too far. You just… see things. And ask things, no one else ever does. And it scares me, kid. You scare the shit out of me.”

“Me? I’m nothing. I’m… just a girl.”

“You’re everything.”

It was then you knew, that the crush was not a crush, it was so much more, too much more. It was then you knew you were heading for a potentially life-altering, life-ending fall that would break all your bones and leave you tethered on the ground, shattered and broken, unable to ever be put back together the same. And so you tried. You broke the moment that felt eternal, even though it pained you, to know at some point he wouldn’t be looking at you the way he had been then, and asked him to go home. You were quiet and compliant all the way back, and he made it easier on you by a performance of the same caliber. You didn’t know if it made you feel better or worse, that the moment clearly affected him too, enough that both of you looked like dogs with their tails between their tails as you arrived back in the village, without having spoken another word to the other, without as much as risking a glance in the other’s direction.

It was for the best. There was nothing, absolutely nothing that could come of entertaining this little troubled happenstance, and truth be told, you couldn’t wait for your life to get back to normal, where he barely spoke to you and you were free to withdraw within yourself the way you knew you had to in order to heal. You were able to get over your mindless crush once before, and you were certain to be able to do it again, especially given you would had the perfect opportunity in the annual clan celebration that you had come just in time for.

“How was it?” Neteyam was quietly hopeful about your trip with his dad, eager to be able to call you one of the People as soon as he possible could. Any effort to aid that, to allow you closer to a life he knew you deserve and knew you could make your own, was beneficial and encouraged in his mind. You loved Neteyam, and appreciate him for who he was and what he meant to you - a brother, a best friend, a confidant. You told him most things and yet, some things were just too ugly to share, and so you didn’t. Some things were better off swept under the rug, praying the lump they made was not big enough to trip on.

“Great. I think he was right, being away from all the prying eyes helped. Guess I’ll just have to show you tomorrow. Who knows? I might even be better than the mighty warrior soon, eh?”

He threw his head back and laughed, and you joined in his joy, already feeling better just being away from him, leisurely walking trough the village and helping out with anyone who needed a hands for tonight’s celebration.

“Dream on, paskalin. Although, you could show me what you learnt tonight, and maybe even win a prize in the knife throwing contest. Better than sulk all night in a corner the way I know you’re itching to do.”

“Actually, I wasn’t planning on doing that. Not tonight.”

“Oh?” You wish you hadn’t said that, because you should have realised Neteyam would be curious and it was a subject you didn’t feel ready to talk to anyone about, especially a man, a beautiful, glorious, obviously-experienced one, such as your best friend.

“I just mean, it’s time, you know? To try to live my life. Maybe even find someone with whom to share it with.”

“Y-you mean… like a mate?”

Neteyam looked taken aback by your confession, so much so that he stopped in the middle of the path, making two children bump into his legs and fall down behind him. It took a lot to make Neteyam flustered, and so you couldn’t understand why your words affected him so much. Was it so unsettling to people, the thought of an Avatar finding love on the planet that wasn’t quite home, but was the only chance at home you would ever get? Were you so repulsive as a person that the one who knew you the best thought it hard to digest that you could ever be loved by a man?

“Forget about it, Neteyam. I’ll be at the celebration, alright? I should go get ready.”

You left before you could hear his excuses or explanations - you knew you were sensitive, probably too sensitive. You knew you were probably overreacting, and his words didn’t have any malintent, and you knew he was most likely just taking a second to adjust to a new stage of your life you’ve never shared with him before. You knew all of these and more, and yet, your heart was tired and bruised, your mind a tumultuous whirlwind of doubt and misery. You needed time, time to heal, time to think. Time you didn't have, when the celebration was upon you.

You almost wanted to laugh now, months after that night happened, at how stupid you had been that night, how desperate and pathetic. You knew about some Na'vi, certain warriors who loved the idea of humans, of experimenting with them, of using them. You've heard the stories, you've seen the scientists coming back to the lab with them, you've been around when they talked about how good it was, how necessary the release, how passionate and life-changing the experience. In your head, that was exactly what you needed then: some sex with some random Na'vi who wanted to show you a good time, help you forget about the one you really wanted. It wasn't hard enough to find one that night, especially after you won your prize in the knife throwing competition, when the warmth of liquid courage was still embedded deep within your throat and soul, much to Neteyam's dismay. Still, the performance attracted attention, of one man in particular you cared about. Strong, 10 feet tall and muscular, he was looking at you like a meal and right then, you wanted nothing more to be devoured. You wondered what your life would have been like if that night went differently than it did. You wondered...

He barely noticed it, his wife’s touches or his clan members’ words of admiration or respect, not when the only thing his mind could focus on was the way his hand was caressing your shoulder and down your arm in gentle and intimate touches that felt too familiar for two people who have seemingly barely ever interacted before. His skin crawled at the sweet, shy smile you were sending his way and at the slight tint of purple he could see in your cheeks. You were too pure for this, Jake knew. Too pure for the intentions clear on his face that he didn’t think you fully understood, how this was all a game, a conquest, how you were a prize to be won, a trophy to be paraded around to the Na’vi who loved to brag about fucking the Avatars, the humans, the aliens. It was a game to him, and you… you weren’t a game to be played, not to Jake.

To his surprise, he realised he was angry with you. Angry that you were humouring him, that you were giving into it, that you were enjoying it. That guy was not good enough for you, and you should know that. You should know that for your first time being touched, being someone else’s, you needed someone who knew how to handle you, how to make you feel good, show you what it feels like to give in to your wildest dreams and fantasies. You needed someone to teach you. The fury bubbling just beneath the surface worried him.

You weren’t his. You were free to do as you wished, and the thoughts that plagued him as the mother of his children was sitting in his lap, perfectly unaware, were enough to pool other feelings, like guilt and shame, and form a heady concoction of emotions that he knew sooner or later would explode all around him. None of the feelings trumped the relief that washed over him as soon as he saw Lo’ak approach the two of you and break apart the scene, and right then, in that moment, Jake never felt more grateful for his troublemaker son and his propensity for meddling in other people’s business.

You looked disappointed with the interruption, slightly irked at his son and at the way the hand that was running up and down your thigh was now vacant from the spot you obviously thought it belonged on. The boy was clearly annoyed at Lo’ak, and a smirk breeched the carefully constructed expression resting on the Olo’eyktan’s face - annoyed or not, everyone knew better than to challenge one of his sons. So, with a careful goodbye, he was gone, leaving you gesticulating widely in his direction and clearly despondent with the outcome. It wasn’t long before you left for your tent, and Jake knew that if he was to survive this night, he’d have to be careful not to give in to the one thing he wished for the most in the world.

Your shower was hotter than what you were used to, hot enough to hopefully scald away the shame and embarrassment you felt now that you were sober once more. Your life seemed to be comprised mostly of those, recently, and while it was somewhat easy to forget how badly you fared in training your Avatar body once you got back to your bedroom and the safe confines of the labs, this new, fresh development lingered like a cold sore, painful whenever you remembered it. Did anyone else apart from Lo’ak see you, shamelessly flirting and allowing a Na’vi warrior to feel you up? Did everyone know how desperately you wanted someone to take you away and make you forget about the one man you actually wanted, the man who made all the other ones pale in comparison, the one man who you couldn’t have? You knew it was so wrong, how badly you craved his touch, what effect even a fleeting image of him in the back of your mind had on you, how your slick was running down your legs, how your brain couldn’t stop conjuring all the ways he could teach you how to be, how to love, how to live. How you knew his touch would ruin you and put you back together, kill you and finally bring you to life.

As you fastened your towel onto your body and opened the door to your bedroom, you were startled to find the one man you couldn't shake from your mind sitting on your bed, eyes wandering over your barely dry body.

“God, Jake, you scared me!”

You couldn't believe he was in your room, as if by thinking about him hard enough you manifested him here. He was so tall, so much bigger than you as you stood now, in your human body, frail and delicate and so easy to break. He barely fit on your bed and in your room, taking most of the walking space, so much so you struggled to adjust your position to face him properly.

“…What are you doing here?”

“What were you doing with that grunt at the party?”

You couldn't believe your ears, settling on a double take as you considered his question carefully, mulling over every word in your mind, as if doing so will finally reveal a secret meaning to it that you couldn't quite understand yet.

“Pardon?”

“You heard me, kid.”

His words were dry and humourless. There was no levity to them, or to the situation, the room filled with thick tension, and for the first time in your life, you were almost...scared of him. Why did he care?

“I… he… we…”

“That’s what I thought. Why him? If you want someone to mate, I’m sure there’s better options out there.”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Jake.”

You started turning around, dizzy from the way his presence was making you feel and tired of giving him so much power to do so. You didn't manage to, though, as his large hand caught your forearm and held you in place, and when you were forcefully turned back to look at him, you saw it all. The hurt. The anger. The... betrayal. The jealousy.

“No, this isn’t how this works. You always ask questions and get me talking about shit I haven’t said out loud in decades, or ever. You’re not going shy on me now, not anymore. So why him?”

Fuck it.

“Because it’s not you, ok?! Because it can’t be you! And I don’t know if you’ve realised this, but it’s not like I have a line of men willing to mate or even be seen with a human, an alien, a sky demon. So it has to be him! That’s why.”

“Kid…”

The tears were pooling in your eyes like beaded pearls making your vision blurry, and the struggle with which you've been trying to remove yourself from his grasp finally paid off because you did it, you finally manage to break free, but it was too late. You were exhausted, and you knew it was time to lay it all on the table, once and for all, for him to know, and to disprove, for him to break your heart so you could finally move on.

“No, Jake! You’re in my head, all the time. It’s messing with my mind, the deluded reality I’ve been living in. You talk to me, and you notice me, and you give me attention. You touch me, and you look at me like…”

Soft sobs broke your words apart and let their meaning linger all around you, sounding like infinite echoes in the room. It would all be over soon.

“...Like you want me. And I know you don’t, and I know it’s not real, and it hurts me! So I need something else, I need someone else, I need someone to show me there’s other men out there, to pull me out of this nightm-“

His lips, soft and needy, not at all like you imagined them to be, ceased your pleading words before you got a chance to speak them. It took a second, just one second, for you to understand what was happening, to process the way the kiss was everything you've ever wanted and more than you've ever dreamed about, the way he was desperate and hungry for your touch, for you to reciprocate his feelings... so you did. And you melted under his touch, and before long, the whole world disappeared from view, and there were no consequences to your actions, and all you knew, all you needed... was him.

You were both panting when you finally came up for air, and all you wanted was more. More. A little more. Always more.

“Fuck, kid. You’ve got no idea how much I want you. But I’ll show you.” His hand wandered down your much smaller body, until his large fingers found the knot of your bathrobe, that he skilfully undoes, before sliding them over your soaked folds. “Shit. Look how wet you are for me. Let me show you, please.”

With a nod, you dropped your head backwards and knew, in your heart, whatever was next would be the beginning of the end, of you, of him, of everything you’ve both worked so hard for and yet, all you felt was unadulterated, heavenly, euphoric bliss.

Maybe I blame my mother bleeding into my stride Maybe it was my father and his wandering eyes (It's their fault that) I'll always be in your corner 'Cause I don't feel alive 'til I'm burnin' on your backburner

taglist:@yagirlheree @mashiromochi @deepdarktower @tojisleftarm@childofgod-05 @youngpersonaathletebear @cinetrix @hinataashoyos @i-live-in-a-fantasy-daydream @misscaller06 @v1l-ismissing @legendarynoodlebowl@analuw @imjustcal @the-fractured-eye @pandoraontop @sweetirilly @kouyoumarryme @blxkstar @ok-boke @myheartfollower @the-mourning-moon @pandoraslxna @jakexneytiri @blue-slxt @kingjulian0o9 @erenjaegerwifee @babyduk213 @@toocoldoutsideforyou

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cartooemcanhis · 2 months

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Look me in the eye and try tell me they weren't born in a wet cardboard box and abandoned in a dark alleyway during a thunderstorm. pathetic sopping wet things. Starving garbage lurking gremlins. They smell so bad and have fleas and every disease ever💔💔💔

Love these beasts so much!!! They would kill me or eachother with no hesitation if I meant getting money but I think they deserve a nice long bubblebath and some free food (they will not enjoy the bath. they wish to remain trash creatures)

Btw pls check out my htf no control character bios!

#em rambles before going to bed #htf #happy tree friends #htf lifty #htf shifty #lifty and shifty

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callhermyname · 2 months

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you're not going | e.m. x reader - prologue

summary: you and Eddie meet for the first time (a few weeks before the start of s1);

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 2.6k

warnings: MDNI!! mostly fluff, just a tiny bit of angst, reader is Dustin's cousin, mentions of absent father, postpartum depression, parents death, self-esteem issues, bullying (let me know if I missed anything).

a/n: HEY so this is my first fic ever so even if it's absolute garbage pls be nice to me😭 also sorry for any grammar mistakes english is not my first language. this is supposed to be the start of a s4 rewrite series, so if you want more please like this post, reblog and let me know what you think. hope u enjoy it!

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You've been living at aunt Claudia's since you were 14. After your mom died, you had nowhere else to go — you can't even remember the last time your dad was in the picture, so when your aunt took you in, you kinda felt thankful that you got to start over, have a fresh start in another town, away from your old life (that you hated). You were still grieving, but aunt Claudia was always very sweet and caring, and soon after you moved in you started to see Dustin as the little brother you never had. It felt a little weird at first — even though your mother did her best, she never really liked the situation you were both in. She never planned to have kids, at least not before graduating from college, especially if it meant being a single mom at such a young age, so you couldn't really blame her for drowning in postpartum depression after you were born until she passed away. So, when her older sister took you in, you didn't expect for her to be so different from your mom, so caring, so gentle, so loving, such a good mom for Dustin and now to you too.

When you first got to Hawkins, you didn't really have any friends besides your 11 year old cousin. One of his friends had a sister about your age — Mike's sister, Nancy — but, although she was always nice to you, you never really quite hit it off. She was sweet, but you didn't have a lot in common and her friends could be really mean. Will's brother, Jonathan, was always very shy and quiet, never really made conversation and you were definitely not the kind of person to force social interaction with someone that obviously didn't care for it, so you just kept it to yourself for most of the first year you spent at Hawkins.

A couple of weeks before Will went missing, Nancy was picking Mike up at your place and invited you to a party at her boyfriend's house. Your aunt overheard the conversation and was very excited to see you were making friends, so you decided to go just so she wouldn't worry about you being an absolute loser. You were always quite self-conscious of your appearance so it took some time to pick out an outfit, but you finally settled for something comfy and not that flashy, but flattering: your best Queen shirt under your favorite jeans overalls and a flannel and your only pair of shoes — basic black chuck taylors.

It was late October and the air was chilly, wind blowing through your hair and cutting your face like tiny little blades as you rode your bike to Steve Harrington's house, hoping to god Nancy was already there so you wouldn't be alone and awkward. You could already hear the music from two blocks away, and when you got to the front door, Nancy was waiting for you with her friend Barb. You knew Barb from school, you took English together, but didn't really talk about anything not school related, but she seemed nice.

"You made it! I was already getting worried you wouldn't show up" Nancy greeted you. "You know Barb, right?"

"Yeah, hey Barb" you agreed and Barb nodded. "Sorry it took me so long to get here, my bike has seen better days…"

"It's fine, don't worry. Let's get in, I'll show you around. You can leave your bike at the back of the garage, outside of the backyard fence."

You left your bike where Nancy told you to and followed her into the house as she showed you where the bathroom was, stumbling over people coming in and out of the house, up and down the stairs. The house was so crowded, it felt like people were coming out of the walls. When she led you to the back of the house, she sat down by the pool and introduced you to her boyfriend and his friends, who were around the pool.

From the start, you felt out of place. Steve and his friends didn't know you, but you already knew them. It was ridiculous to you how those people had made fun of you more than once at school but did not remember your face when Nancy introduced you as her friend. Maybe because you weren't wearing your big squared glasses, or because you tried something different with your hair? It didn't really matter anyways. At least they were not making fun of you. Poor Barb wasn't so lucky — they gave her a really hard time, and Nancy was just completely powerless over the situation, too afraid to say anything to try and defend her friend. After an hour, Barb got fed up and left, leaving you alone with Nancy and those assholes who were absolutely wasted and wouldn't shut up about playing spin the bottle or truth or dare.

"Come on, what are you, twelve?" Steve protested, "We're not kids man, that's just boring."

"You're absolutely right Harrington. But, we could spice it up, ya know?" Tommy offered, trying to convince Steve to play the game "For every truth or dare you refuse to tell or do, you have to take a shot of tequila. What do you say, Harrington? Wanna get absolutely wasted?"

Next thing you know, you were excusing yourself to go to the bathroom while at least 10 people were gathering around forming a circle on the floor of Steve's backyard. You didn't really need to use the bathroom, you just needed to cool off a little before getting hammered — you were NOT about to tell any truths or do any dares around these people you barely knew. Before you could go back outside, you got yourself a glass of water in the kitchen. As you threw away the red plastic cup, now empty, you heard a conversation through the kitchen window that headed to the backyard.

"So, can we start the game already?"

"Wait, where's Wheeler's friend?"

"Barb left like, half an hour ago, Carol" you heard Nancy reply.

"No, not the chubby one, the other one, the weird one with the ugly hair."

"I think she needed to use the bathroom…?"

"Oh my god do you think she's like, brushing her teeth or something? Thinking someone's gonna want to kiss her?" Carol laughed.

"We better not wait for her then, I do NOT want to spin the bottle and end up having to kiss that weird ass bitch!" Tommy said, getting a good laugh out of everyone.

Your eyes teared up as you backed away from the window, thinking about what to do. You thought you could just sneak out and go home, cry yourself to sleep, but then you remembered you had left your bike chained up by the backyard fence. There was no way you could get your bike without anyone noticing you sneaking out. Fuck, you knew you should've stayed home reading something or watching TV.

Since you couldn't go home without your bike, you decided to wait until everyone was back inside. It couldn't take that long, you thought, it was freezing out there. But you couldn't stay inside either. Not by yourself. So, you walked over to the front door and opened it, feeling the cold air hit your cheeks. You walked out of the house and into the woods beside the house, where you could still see the backyard, but would be out of sight, a little further from the backyard fence and hidden in the dark shadow of the trees that surrounded the Harrington's property. Once you were settled, seated on the ground, you bursted into tears. Hot, salty tears running through your face as you sobbed, hating everything about yourself, hating the fact that, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't escape the fact that you were always different. Not in an obvious way — you didn't have that much of a fashion sense that was bold enough to earn dirty looks from old ladies —, but sometimes you felt like you didn't feel things the same way other people did. You felt fragile, small, vulnerable, like you were exposed all the time. It made you feel like shit.

You were so quiet, you couldn't help but to jump out when you heard footsteps behind you and then something snapping, like someone had stepped on a branch or something. You turned around wide eyed, heart pounding, just to see a silhouette standing behind you, holding a little metal lunchbox. It was a boy, shaggy curly hair down to right below his earlobes, Iron Maiden shirt, leather jacket and denim vest, dark loose jeans and heavy black boots.

"Dude, what the fuck" you panted, trying to not look as spooked and jumpy as you were "where did you came from?"

"Shit, sorry" he said, trying to hold back his laughter "didn't mean to scare ya, normally i don't run by anyone when i take this shortcut, though it has been a while since i actually used this shortcut — see, i usually drive mostly everywhere, but i ran out of gas money for the month and i thought 'hey, i could actually use a little walk through the woods to cool my head off a little' so i just decided to- whoa, wait, are you crying? I'm so sorry I didn't mean to scare you like that!" he stopped his rambling when he noticed you were drying your tears with the sleeve of your jacket.

"No, it's not- really, i'm fine" you panicked, noticing he seemed a little hurt by your reaction "i was already crying before you- sorry, it wasn't you, i'm fine don't worry"

He walked over to you and sat down beside you, a concerned look on his face.

"I don't wanna be nosy or anything, I know you don't really know me" he started, you now realizing you did recognise him from school, how could you not? He's always drawing attention to himself "but you can talk to me if you want. I'm guessing you were at Harrington's party? Everyone down there sitting at that circle in the backyard is kinda known for being a pain in the ass"

"What gave it away?" you brushed off your tears, slightly smiling at his comment "Just didn't wanna play truth or dare with… you know, those guys. But it seems they were glad I didn't join them, so they wouldn't have to kiss me if someone decided to play spin the bottle"

"Wait, what?" he seemed surprised "They told you that?"

"Not exactly" you explained "I was at the kitchen and overheard someone saying that outside, so i bailed"

"What are you still doing here then?- Oh, I'm Eddie, by the way." he introduced himself, shaking your hand as you introduced yourself.

You explained the whole situation to him and he offered to keep you company until you could get your bike back and go home. After an hour of nonsense conversation filled with Eddie's dramatic sense of humor, you actually got to know each other a little bit. He told you about his band and how he really liked Lord of the Rings and fantasy RPG.

"I'm not really a huge fan of fantasy books" you shared, causing him to gasp, as he was offended by your comment.

"How dare you? Are you not a huge fan of happiness too? Or maybe you hate puppies and ice cream?" he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "How can you not like the only way to escape this boring non-fictional world we are FORCED to live in?"

"Hey, don't get me wrong, I do like fiction. Just not... fantasy fiction."

"So what do you like then?"

"I really enjoy science fiction."

"What, like androids and shit?"

"No, not that kind of science fiction. I mean science fiction like... Clockwork Orange, or Flowers for Algernon."

"Oh so you're a nerd too!" he teased "I was almost buying all that 'not a nerd' act, but you're into Kubrick? That's so nerdy!"

"You do know Stanley Kubrick didn't write the book right?"

"Shut up, you know what I mean."

Once he started to talk about music, he just couldn't stop talking for a second. He told you about his band, and you felt as if he was the first person to ever understand your passion for music. After another 30 minutes or so of energetic conversation about how much you both liked 70s rock, he ended up telling you he only attended this kind of party to sell some weed and make a quick buck.

"Don't get me wrong, i fucking hate these people" he explained himself "but they ARE in fact my biggest costumers. Guess daddy's money might not be enough for them to feel loved, but it does buy whatever else they need to feel better about themselves. So, they always make sure I'm 'invited' to every party they want me to bring my little lunchbox to."

"Yeah, that makes sense i guess" you agreed, turning your head over to the backyard, people already heading inside due to the cold. You felt your heart sink, even though all you've been wanting was to take your bike and leave. You were actually really enjoying getting to talk to Eddie.

"Well, i guess this is it" he said, noticing as you watched everyone getting into the house "now you can go home and not listen to me and my rambling about whatever it is i was talking about. Hell, even i can't remember what the hell i was talking about most of the time" he laughed.

"To be honest, it wasn't that bad" you laughed back "it was definitely better than spin the bottle!"

He chuckled, helping you get up and unchain your bike from the fence, giving you a dorky smile as you hopped up on your bike.

"Well, I better get back to work huh? Got a lot of customers waiting on me" he gestured to the house as you secured your helmet under your chin.

"Yeah, I better get back home too. My aunt refuses to go to sleep until i get home safe, don't wanna keep her waiting"

"So, I guess I'll see you at school, huh?" he shifted at his feet and kicked the ground, stuffing his hands inside the pockets of his vest.

"Yeah, if there's any seats left for another nerd at your table for lunch" you chuckled awkwardly, looking at your feet.

"For a pretty one like you? Always."

You exchanged an awkward look and smiled at each other again, and with that you followed your way back home, feeling hopeful about how the next few weeks would play out. You thought you had finally found someone you could trust and spend time with, someone who got you — a friend.

For the next week or so, you and Eddie hung out a lot. Finally, you had someone you could call a friend, and things seemed to be going not so bad for the first time in months. He would always save you a seat at the table at lunch and walk you to your classes, he would even give you a ride every once in a while, when his van was not running out of gas. It was something you could get used to — at least until a couple of weeks later, when you, Nancy, Jonathan and Steve ended up trauma bonding over setting a demogorgon on fire. After that, your life had (literally) turned upside down and you didn't hang out with Eddie that much anymore. As the years went by, you would hang out more with Steve and Robin once Nancy and Jonathan started dating. You would still talk to Eddie though, just... not like you talked to your other friends. They were the only ones who actually understood what you were going through, and — even though you missed his company — it would be selfish to tell Eddie everything and drag him into that nightmare. Until of course, the nightmare caught up to him.

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