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munson-blurbs · 7 months

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Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!Reader Series

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17

Summary: Still questioning your mothering abilities, you finally agree to take a pregnancy test. But when you run into an unexpected familiar face, it leads to some intimate conversations.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), angst, misunderstanding, mention of alcohol consumption, nausea, Reader takes a pregnancy test, mention of menstrual periods/tampons, panic attack, use of medication (prescribed), dirty talk, mutual masturbation, breeding kink, choking, submissive!Reader, mention of public sex (this chapter has a lot so please let me know if I missed something!)

WC: 10.1k

A/N: Thank you to @pastel-pillows, @corroded-hellfire, and @vintagehellfire for beta reading and helping with some dialogue. Y'all make me a horny better writer.

Chapter 17/20

Divider credit to @saradika Harris's card credit to @girlwiththerubyslippers

It’s been one week since you’ve seen Eddie. The phone is silent on the hook, regardless of how strongly you will it to ring.

A wave of nausea ripples through you and has you lunging for the Saltines box on the coffee table. It isn’t unusual for you to feel sick when you’re anxious, and this entire situation definitely has you on-edge. The Jerry Springer audience chants his name from the TV set, though you can barely pay attention to the brawl that’s about to occur.

One week ago, you and Eddie broke up. One week ago, you realized you might be carrying his baby. One week ago, you began what you’d dubbed Self-Pity Spring Break, which was essentially a week of you wallowing in misery and ignoring the nagging question that constantly infiltrates your thoughts.

The movement for the crackers allows you to get a whiff of the pajamas you’d been living in. You’d convinced yourself there was no need to shower since you were barely leaving your apartment, but the odor emanating from your clothes—and your skin—says otherwise. You resignedly stand up and grab a towel from the hall closet, scowling at the box of tampons that’s seemingly taunting you.

Fine, you silently relent, I’ll get a test today.

There’s a forceful knock on the door, and your heart leaps. Eddie. Eddie’s here, we can talk and figure this out–

“Hey, Hermit, you alive in there?” It’s Jess, speaking even as she knocks.

“Coming, coming,” you grumble, not even trying to feign excitement. Maybe it’s better that it’s not Eddie; you’re not sure what you’d even say.

“Jeez, you look awful,” Robin comments, clamping her lips together when Jess shoots her a glare. “Sorry.”

“You’re not wrong,” you mutter. You haven’t looked in the mirror in days, not wanting to confront the reflection staring back at you. Fingertips greasy with old potato chip residue, you wipe them on your pajama pants and sigh. “I feel like shit, too.”

Jess grabs your hand and gives it a little squeeze. “C’mon, let’s get you some wine,” she says kindly, already padding towards the kitchen in search of an open bottle. “It’s five o’clock somewhere.”

You shake your head, throat dry. “I, um, I shouldn’t.” An unspoken plea floats from your lips, begging her not to ask further questions, but you know better than to get your hopes up.

She stops in her tracks, swiveling back in your direction. Her eyebrows pinch together, creasing in the middle. “No.” She waits for the punchline, and when there isn’t one, she envelops you in a hug. “Oh, honey.”

You feel another gentle hand on your back as Robin’s palm rubs comforting circles between your shoulder blades. You can’t pinpoint the moment she became one of your close friends, too; it happened naturally as the relationship between her and Jess became more serious and they spent more time together. Yet it feels as though she’s always been an integral part of your life, and you couldn’t be more thankful, especially in moments like this one.

“I don’t…I haven’t taken a test yet,” you admit bashfully, blinking away rogue tears, “but I’m super late. Like, almost two weeks late.”

Robin scrunches her face, unsure of her response but plunging ahead anyway. “Does Eddie…”

You shake your head. “No, and I’m not telling him either way.” The vitriol in your voice is biting, and both of your friends are taken aback by your anger. “He said that taking care of Harris was too much for me to handle; you think he wants to raise a whole other kid with me?”

“Okay, okay,” Jess softly interrupts your tirade, not needing to hear your break-up story for the fourth time. “First things first: you gotta take a test. Do you have one here?”

“Mm-mm.”

“Then Robs and I will go with you to the pharmacy.”

“I don’t wanna go,” you whine, sounding more like Harris than ever.

Jess sighs. “You’re leaving this apartment whether you like it or not.” She motions towards her girlfriend. “She’s stronger than she looks, so we will use force if we have to.”

“Fine.” You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. “Can I at least shower first?”

“Please,” Jess mutters, grateful that she didn’t have to make the suggestion herself.

The shower water is scalding hot, but you don’t have the energy to fiddle with the knob until it’s a decent temperature. Instead, you stand underneath the stream and idly sway back-and-forth. You grab the Dial bar from the soap tray, lathering your body and taking good care to scrub under your arms. The suds slide down and swirl around the drain before disappearing entirely. You can only wish they took your problems with them.

You dry off as quickly as you can, throwing on the first pair of sweatpants you can find and a faded concert t-shirt from when you saw Joan Jett perform in ‘89. Dragging your tired body back out to where your friends are waiting, you grab a jacket out of the closet, stomach turning as soon as you put your arms through the sleeves. You haven’t worn this since last weekend, and the smell of Eddie’s cologne still faintly lingers. It’s like he’s there wrapping himself around you, nuzzling into the crook of your neck and whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

Except he’s not here, his scent only serving as a painful reminder of what you used to have.

If he was here right now, what would he be doing? Cursing the broken condom that led to this chaos? Berating himself for getting another woman pregnant? And not just any woman; this would be the second woman he’d knocked up who’d failed to be a decent mother. This time; however, he’d know about your shortcomings before the baby could even arrive, before it could develop fingers and toes and have its own little heartbeat…

With a heavy sigh, you drag your feet out the door and into Jess’s car. Nausea creeps up on you the closer you get to your destination, and for the first time in your life, you pray it’s only carsickness.

Murphy’s Law states that “anything that can go wrong, will go wrong,” and that’s exactly what happened to Eddie this week.

First, he’d all but gotten confirmation that you were overwhelmed at the prospect of being a family, of being his partner, and eventually being a parent to Harris. Your silence when he’d asked if it was “too much” was deafening. He’d thought about calling you, even picked up the phone and dialed the first few digits on more than one occasion, but ultimately hung up. There’s no sense in trying to force you into a life you have no interest in, no matter how badly it hurts him to be without you.

Then, this morning, Harris had woken up at 6:30 AM, howling in pain. Eddie had nearly fallen out of bed at the sudden burst of sound, rushing to his son’s side to figure out the issue.

“My ear!” Harris wailed, pressing a tiny palm to the side of his head. “It hurts so bad!”

“Okay, okay,” Eddie murmured. He tried to pull Harris’s hand from his ear to get a better look, but quickly stopped when the boy cried out in agony, rivaling a Wilhelm Scream.

He called the pediatrician and got the earliest appointment available, arriving at the office before they’d even opened. The receptionist had given him a strange look as he barreled through the doors, Harris hoisted in his arms.

Forty-five arduous minutes later, the doctor took one look inside Harris’s ear canal and diagnosed him with an ear infection, scribbled out a barely-legible prescription for antibiotics, and sent the Munsons on their way.

Now, Eddie slams the sedan door shut as he walks into the pharmacy for the second time today, mumbling about his shit luck. He’d brought Harris to Wayne’s trailer after dropping off the prescription once they informed him that it would be a two-hour wait. There was no sense in forcing the poor kid to sit around the drugstore when he desperately needed a nap, Eddie reasoned, ignoring his own exhaustion. He makes up his mind right then and there that, in addition to whatever bubblegum-flavored concoction he’s picking up for Harris, he’s getting a pack of Camels. The stress is just too damn much for Nicorette to handle.

He makes a beeline for the pharmacist, nodding along as she explains that the medicine should be taken twice daily with food.

“Do you have any questions?” she asks patiently, a kind smile on her lips.

“N-No,” Eddie stammers, the paper bag crinkling in his grasp. “Thanks,” he throws out haphazardly, already hyper-focused on securing the cigarettes. He can practically taste the tobacco on his tongue, smoke filling his lungs. He’ll quit again tomorrow, once all of this is–

“Is this it? EPT?” A familiar voice briefly grabs Eddie’s attention, but he quickly brushes it off. It’s a small town; everyone’s bound to recognize each other after a while.

It’s the response that truly draws him in, a timid, “y-yeah, I think so.”

Eddie swivels around, cigarettes long forgotten, peering down each aisle until he finds you. You’re standing with Robin Buckley—the voice he’d recognized earlier—and Jeff’s sister-in-law, Jess.

“Hi,” he blurts out, shoving his free hand in his pants pocket. His heart breaks at the defeated look in your eyes, swollen from days of crying. He wants to pull you in for a hug and feel your arms wrap around him, relishing in your safety.

It only takes a half-second for his gaze to drop to the pink box clenched in your death grip, a pathetic attempt to hide it from him. “Wh-What’s that?” He’s suddenly all-too aware that you’re all standing in the Family Planning section, and unless science has made some extraordinary progress lately, it’s unlikely that Jess and Robin need anything here. “Are you—”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” You regain as much composure as you can. “But whatever I am, I can handle it by myself.” You’re unsure of the truth behind that statement, but you refuse to let him see you waver.

Eddie takes another step forward, removing his hand from his pocket and taking the test from you. You’re hesitant to relinquish it, but you ultimately concede.

“Let me pay for this, at least,” he says softly, not waiting for your reply before tucking it under his arm and heading to the cashier.

“Eddie—”

“You’ll take it at my place,” he continues as though you hadn’t just spoken his name, “and if you’re…if it’s…we’ll, uh, we’ll figure out where to go from there.”

You shake your head. “I don’t need your help,” you protest, firmly but not unkindly. “Seriously, I’ve got this.” Be done with me. Just let me go, Eddie. Find someone who deserves your—and Harris’s—time.

Eddie places the test on the counter, digging into his wallet for the dingy MasterCard he keeps tucked away for emergencies. You cringe at the cost; if you’d known Eddie would insist on footing the bill, you would have chosen a cheaper option.

“I can take this at home. Robin and Jess will be with me,” you push on as the four of you leave the store. You turn to them for back-up, frowning when Robin gives you a tight smile and Jess shrugs.

“I…think you should take it at Eddie’s,” she offers, trying to ignore the death glare you’re sending her way.

“If you need us, just call, and we’ll pick you up,” Robin hurriedly adds, quickly squeezing your upper arm before the two of them leave you and Eddie alone.

Without thinking, Eddie’s hand slips into yours. Maybe it’s because you’re more scared than you’ve ever been in your life, maybe it’s because his gentle demeanor has breathed new life into your love for him, but you let him keep it there.

The hum of the sedan’s engine is the only sound until Eddie speaks again.

“How long have you known? Or, thought, I guess,” he asks, drumming his ringed fingers on the steering wheel.

You don’t want to answer truthfully, but you’re too tired to lie. “Since last week.”

“Last week?” He slams on the break, instinctively putting an arm in front of you to protect you from injury. No matter that your seatbelt had been clicked in place since you’d sat down. “Shit, sorry.” He clears his throat. “Like, before the trip? Or…”

“On the bus ride home,” you clarify, shame seeping through every pore. It had seemed so natural to keep this information to yourself, but now you just feel stupid for not letting him in earlier. The baby–if there even is a baby–is his, too.

Eddie breathes out a long sigh, followed by silence until he poses yet another question. “Does anyone else know?”

“Yeah, I rented out a billboard in Times Square,” you quip before you can stop yourself. “Sorry, that was bitchy.” Maybe you’re just trying to fool yourself, but you swear you see a faint smile on his lips. “Um, no. Just you, Jess, and Robin.”

He nods. “Harris’s at Wayne’s, so it’ll only be us.” Eight days ago, that statement would be associated with passion; punctuated with a grab of your ass, a kiss to your neck, fingers gliding over your breast. Your heart lurches with longing, but you shove it deep down. That’s what got us into this whole mess, you remind yourself.

Still, his grip on the gearshift as he throws the car in park has you internally shouting for him to grasp your knee in the same manner. You’re moving in slow motion, providing him with ample time to get out and open your door for you.

“Thanks,” you whisper, but when he extends his hand to help you up, you fight the urge to accept it. Whatever the results of this test are, it doesn’t erase the fact that he’d said that parenthood was too much for you to handle. And you refuse to selfishly burden their family with your inadequacy.

Eddie rakes his fingers through his hair, casually playing off the rejection, but you don’t miss the brief pained expression in the scrunch of his nose.

Neither of you utter a word as you walk up to his apartment, your footsteps echoing throughout the stairwell. His hands are trembling so violently that he drops the key in front of his door; it lands on the floor with a tiny ping.

“Y’okay?” It’s an absurd question, but you’re unsure what else you can possibly say.

“Um, no,” he admits with a terse laugh. “I went into Rite Aid to get medicine and came out with a possibly pregnant…” He almost says girlfriend, but stops himself just in time. “So, yeah, I’m far from okay.”

He finally manages to open the door, pushing it open so you can go in first. You stand in the living room, feet glued to the floor. Your legs are weak beneath you, threatening to give out at any moment.

“I can’t do this,” you mumble, words catching in your throat. Your vision goes blurry with tears. “I just…” you trail off, shaking your head incredulously. “We were so careful, and the condom went and broke that one time…”

Eddie’s palm cups your chin delicately, calloused skin grazing smooth. “Listen to me.” His voice is calm despite his body brimming with nerves, “what’s done is done, okay? You’re either having my baby, or you’re not.” My baby, my baby, my baby. As he says it, his gaze flits down to your stomach. “But we have to know.”

You nod, unable to fully accept the weight of his words. “Do you have, like, a paper cup or something for me to pee in?”

“Yeah.” He shuffles over to the small linen closet next to the bathroom and grabs a Dixie cup from a stack. “Did you want me to go in with you, or wait out here…I, um, don’t really know the protocol.”

You manage a tiny laugh at his candor, despite the unfavorable circumstances that brought you back to his home. “You can just wait out here,” you tell him. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

Your heart skips a beat as you close the bathroom door, and lock it behind you. Eddie’s voice is muffled outside the door as he talks on the phone, ending the conversation with, “thanks, Old Man,” before you hear the soft click of the receiver being replaced on the hook.

You lay everything out on the countertop in front of you, scanning each object in disbelief. The words on the instruction sheet swim away, leaving only tidbits in their wake.

If two lines appear, this indicates a positive result. Call your doctor for further evaluation.

You read that line over and over. If two lines appear, you’re pregnant with your ex-boyfriend’s child. It’s going to take a lot more than an obstetrician to evaluate that chaos.

You pull down your pants, then your underwear, nestling the paper cup between your thighs. Eddie’s reminder replays in your head: what’s done is done.

It’s easier for him to say; it’s not his body, but the sentiment remains true. All you have to do now is find out exactly what you’ve done.

You gingerly drop the paper strip into the cup, watching as the control line begins to darken. The instructions advised you to wait twenty minutes for the results; according to the digital watch adorning your wrist, that will put you at 12:18 PM.

You don’t have to wait that long.

The familiar reddish tinge that stains the toilet paper is the most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen. It almost seems too good to be true, so you take a fresh square and wipe again. This time, it’s even more pronounced.

An involuntary laugh that bubbles up from your throat, scaring even yourself. You can hear Eddie outside the door, stumbling over his feet to stand.

“Wh-What’s going on? What happened?” His hands twist the knob with no success. “Can I come in?”

“Y-Yeah,” you manage, smiling so wide you can barely speak, “I just got my period.”

There’s a long pause, then, “like…now?”

“Right now. At this very second,” you confirm, sending you into a fresh fit of giggles. You grab a tampon from your bag with far too much enthusiasm, unlocking the door once you’ve washed your hands and put yourself back together.

“We can still wait for the result, if you want,” you tell him. A strand of hair falls in front of his eyes when he nods in agreement; without thinking, you brush it away. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have done that,” you mumble. You feel yourself shrink inwards, palpably embarrassed of the intimacy of your slip-up.

“Do it again.”

Your brow furrows in confusion. “What?”

“Do it again,” he repeats, and when your fingertips make contact with his hair, gently tucking it behind his ear, his own hand slides into place against your cheek. “I’m gonna kiss you now.”

You say nothing, letting your body language speak for you in the slight upward tilt of your head as your lips find his, noses almost colliding in haste. Your hand slips down to his bicep as you accept his touch, parting your lips to allow his tongue to enter while your own breathy moan exits.

The sound has him tugging you closer, grabbing the hem of your shirt and inadvertently pinching a bit of skin in his hurry. The sudden twinge of pain snaps you out of the moment, and you take a step back.

“We can’t…” You take a deep breath, gathering the thoughts that have been jumbled by his touch. “We’re not together anymore,” you finish dumbly, cracks splintering through your heart as you hear it aloud. Not together.

Eddie’s voice is hardly above a whisper. “I know.” But his thumb traces over the plush of your lips in memorization. “Can I ask you something before you go?”

You contemplate it, rolling it over your tongue and finally relenting when you remember you’re still waiting for the official test result. “Sure.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” There’s hurt in his voice, and more than a hint of anger, though you certainly can’t blame him.

“I didn’t want to worry you in case it was nothing…which it was,” you hastily add, needing to hold on to the lightness of the false alarm.

“No, I’m not talking about that,” he rebuts, continuing when you cock your head in confusion. “Why didn’t you tell me that taking care of Harris was too much for you?” Realization floods his body, carefully curated thoughts giving way to a horrified stream of consciousness. “Or was I too much?”

Bewilderment raises your eyebrows. “I never said that taking care of Harris was too much for me. You did.”

“Me?” He scoffs, pushing his body back with a slight bend at the hips, hands shoved into his pants pockets, rings peeking out over their seams. “No, I didn’t. I asked you, and you never gave a straight answer. Any answer, really.”

You think back to that confrontation, trying to remember the inflection in his voice: ‘s too much for you, isn’t it? In your insecurity-laden state, you’d assumed that it was a declaration of your shortcomings; now, you’re able to see what he’d actually meant.

He was trying to reach out, his own self-doubts bleeding through, but you were so consumed with all of the ways you’d failed him and Harris that you couldn’t see it.

“I…” Your brain is scrambled, unable to catch a single thought. You inhale for three, lungs expanding under your ribcage. The exhale is slower; you need all the time you can to collect yourself. “I messed up so badly…the donut…the elevator…the market…”

Spots dance across your vision as your breathing becomes more rapid and shallow. All you can picture is Eddie’s fear when Harris ran off; your chest is heavy with the same sinking feeling that as when you’d turned around and he was missing.

Your legs wobble beneath you, no longer attached to your body, but a separate entity.

Eddie’s voice is an echo in a tunnel, loud but far away. “I got you,” you hear him say as he leads you to the couch. Your feet move robotically, left right left right until you’re sitting on the lumpy cushion, the same one you’d gotten well acquainted with on that fateful August night.

Donut—elevator—market. Donut—elevator—market. An internal chant that served as a reminder of your failures. “I’m right here, okay? ‘M not going anywhere.” The couch dips a bit as he sits next to you. He hesitates for a split second before his hand is making small, concentric circles on your upper back.

Safety’s warmth crawls in as your physical and psychological worlds slowly merge. You’re in Eddie’s apartment, on his couch, next to him.

“Eddie…” you croak out, but he silences you with a shake of his head.

“Let me talk for a second. Please.” He sighs, not out of impatience, but as a means of gathering his thoughts. “You…you’re everything I ever wanted for myself and for my son. And, I’m gonna be real honest with you here, that scares the shit outta me.” A peal of disbelieving laughter accompanies his confession. “I shouldn’t have had you take him to the playground by yourself or leave you alone with him at the market. Not,” he hurriedly adds, ‘because of you, but because, sometimes, he needs the supervision of two people.” His hand drops from your back and lands on your own fingers, splayed on the couch next to him. “I think I just got so excited that I finally wasn’t parenting solo, y’know? And I relied on you too much.”

You wipe at your cheeks with the back of your hand. “You’re supposed to rely on me,” you counter. “That’s what partners do.”

“Yeah, well, maybe if I wasn’t acting like such a dick, you could’ve told me you felt overwhelmed. Partners tell each other those kinds of things, too.”

“You’re not a dick because you got upset that I lost Harris.” You roll your eyes, not wanting him to downplay his own emotions just to protect yours.

Eddie clicks his tongue against his teeth. “Maybe not,” he acquiesces, ‘but I was a dick when you bought him a donut in the morning, like it was the worst thing that kid’s ever eaten for breakfast.” You both smile at that, knowing full well that Eddie’s had to bribe his son with a Pop-Tart on more than one occasion. “And then you took him to the playground without me even having to ask, just so I could get some rest. And don’t even start in with me about the Great Elevator Meltdown of 1997, because we both know he just would’ve flipped out about something else.” He scoots a millimeter closer to you, wanting to bridge the gap between your bodies without barging past any boundaries. “He was tired and in a new place away from home. A tantrum was damn near inevitable.”

As much as you’d like to wallow in self-pity, you know that it’s true.

“Speaking of the playground,” he continues, “all I heard about for the rest of the weekend was how much fun he had with you.” He throws his voice up an octave to mimic Harris’s tone. “I had the BEST TIME with Ms. Sweetheart! She pushed me on the swing SO HIGH!”

The corners of your mouth tug upwards at the memory. “He said that?”

“Mhm,” Eddie nods, contemplating the next piece of information to divulge. “He, uh, also told me that you love me. Not a little, but a lot.” You watch as the tips of his ears turn scarlet, visible even underneath his layers of curls. “Not sure if that still stands.”

You let your knee gently knock into his, a sliver of an olive branch. “Do you want it to?”

“So fucking much.” It’s a plea, breathy and desperate. “I love you, too.”

You crack a small smile before teasing, “A little, or a lot?”

A ridiculous amount, he thinks. I wake up thinking about you, go to sleep thinking about you, and most of my day in-between is spent thinking about you, too. “A lot, baby. More than I ever thought I could.” His gaze doesn’t leave your lips, chocolate brown eyes drawing you in closer. “Before we…I just need to know. For Harris and for me.” He rubs his palms on his denim-clad thighs, hoping to push away his nerves. “Being in it for the long haul…is that what you want? Because if it’s not, I can’t…y’know…”

You know. You know he can’t muddle through a relationship that has a certain expiration date. You know he can’t bring you into his son’s life any more than he already has if you don’t plan to stick around.

“I’m in it for the long haul,” you tell him, relaxing as a smile overrides the anxiety previously etched into his features. “I’m just scared that I’ll fuck it all up. That I can’t be a good mom to Harris.” You realize too late what you just implied, but judging by Eddie’s unwavering expression, it’s unlikely that this is the first time he’s thought about you filling that position. “At the playground, um,” you fidget with your fingers, suddenly entranced by the ridges of your knuckles, “Harris said that he wants me to be his mommy, but you and Wayne told him not to ask me yet.”

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut and clenches his fist before flexing his fingers, rings gleaming in the lamplight. “And that freaked you out?” he supplies, noticeably shocked when you refute his assumption with a shake of your head.

“Not in the way you think,” you say, gnawing on your inner cheek. “He was just so excited, and I started thinking–”

“That was your first mistake,” he jokes, wincing overdramatically when you swat at his chest.

“I started thinking,” you continue, throwing him a playful glare, “that he’d eventually be let down by me, that you’d eventually be let down by me, and that both of you would regret ever meeting me.”

His face falls at your admission, eyes losing their sparkle as he recognizes your fear. He’s been there: anxious about not living up to Harris’s expectations; the inevitable fall from grace when he realizes his dad is flying by the seat of his pants when it comes to parenting. Yes, he knows the feeling all too well, and it shatters his heart that it weighs on you, too. And the fact that you hadn’t told him–hadn’t felt like you could tell him–forms a knot in his gut.

“Baby,” he murmurs. The warmth of his palms envelops your face as he rests them on your cheeks. “Oh, my sweet girl. Don’t you know that that will never happen?” He sighs at your downcast eyes. “I need to tell you a secret, but you have to promise you won’t get weird about it.”

That captures your attention. What does he mean by ‘weird’? Angry? Annoyed? Scared? “What?” you ask, extending the word with an abundance of caution.

“When you told me you might be pregnant…the thought of being responsible for another kid fuckin’ terrified me. But not,” he swallows, a huff of air sufficing for an incredulous laugh, “not the thought of having one with you.”

Your eyes widen, eyebrows practically reaching the edge of your hairline. His unspoken words reverberate in your head: I’m not scared of parenting with you. I’m not scared of whatever journey lies ahead, as long as you’re beside me. I’m not scared of loving you.

Without warning, you press your lips to his. Tangled, messy curls find their way into your fists as you draw nearer to each other in a blur of hands and mouths. Though he’d kissed you only moments earlier, Eddie treats this one like a novelty; a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

To your chagrin, he abruptly breaks the kiss. “Wait right here.” You scrunch your nose as he dashes into his room. You can hear him rummaging through drawers, swearing loudly before slamming it shut and jogging back to the sofa.

“This,” he announces, holding out a small paper bag, “is the reason I asked you to watch Harris at the market.”

You take it, curiosity sufficiently piqued by the air of mystery. Tipping it slightly, you feel a delicate chain snake into your palm. Dangling from the center is a tiny heart pendant.

“Wanted it to be a surprise,” Eddie explains, trying to gauge your expression. “I know it’s not, like, the fanciest jewelry. There’s no diamond or any—”

“I love it.” And you do. God, you do. You quickly bring it to your neck, fumbling with the clasp for a half-second before you feel his strong fingers atop your own.

“I got it,” he murmurs, and you shift slightly to give him a better vantage point.

He adjusts the heart so it’s centered just below your collarbone, lingering a beat longer than necessary before pulling away. “Perfect.” He clears his throat and offers an apologetic smile as he ruefully adds, “I have to get to Wayne’s and give Harris his medicine,” he explains, nodding towards the paper bag on his countertop.

“Eddie!”

“What?”

You laugh, fingers dancing across the prickled stubble along his angular jaw. “You should’ve told me that Harris was sick!” This whole time, you’d just assumed he’d been on a playdate, but now you have an explanation as to why Eddie was in the pharmacy and who the medication is for.

“It’s an ear infection,” Eddie says nonchalantly, standing up and stretching his back. “Besides, when I told Wayne that you were here—I didn’t tell him why, don’t worry,” he throws in for good measure, “he said, and I quote, ‘don’t come back here until you make things right with your girl.’”

Your girl. You’re still Eddie’s girl. “We probably should check on the test before we go.” It’s been soaking in the cup of urine for twenty-three minutes. Padding to the bathroom, you double, triple, and quadruple check the singular pink line. Not a second one in sight, and you breathe out a sigh of relief before cheerfully announcing. “Officially negative!”

Eddie’s still fixated on one word. “You, um, wanna come with me?”

“If that’s okay.” Feeling out boundaries, a toe timidly dipped into the water.

“‘Course it’s okay. Fuck, ‘m just so happy you’re mine again. Missed my girl so much.” He plants a wet kiss on your forehead. “Harris is gonna be so happy to see you.”

Happy might be too strong a word to describe Harris’s reaction when you walk through the door of Wayne’s trailer, squeaking hinges waking him from a restless sleep.

“Ms. Sweetheart?” His voice is thick with grogginess and disbelief. “What’re you doing here?” He clumsily wipes his eyes with his little fists, sweaty from fevered sleep.

You sit next to him on the couch, pushing his sweat-logged curls from his face. “Just came to check on you. I heard my favorite Munson wasn’t feeling well.”

Harris giggles, delighted to be so highly ranked. “Yeah, I got an ear ‘fection. But I just gotta take medicine for it and it’ll go away.”

“Got it right here.” Eddie holds up the bag. “Did you eat anything?”

Harris looks over at his grandfather, not yet awake enough to answer the question.

“Had some toast and jelly right before his nap. ‘Bout…half an hour ago?” Wayne confirms.

Eddie nods, taking the bottle of amoxicillin out of the paper bag and giving it a good shake. You watch as he unscrews the cap and meticulously pours the medicine just to the dosage line. “Here ya go, Har Bear,” he says, walking over to the sofa where his son is half-sitting, half laying. “This’ll make you feel better, okay?”

That’s not a strong enough sell for Harris, who promptly crosses his arms over his chest, wrinkles his nose, and shakes his head in protest. “Yuck.”

“C’mon, please?” Eddie’s face falls in desperation and exhaustion at his son’s refusal. “It’s bubblegum fl–”

“No!” The ferocity in Harris’s objection could rattle the entire trailer.

You take Eddie’s hand and squeeze it reassuringly. “Can he have a cookie?” you whisper in his ear, hopefully low enough that Harris can’t overhear.

“What?” There’s no way you’re going to reward his behavior with a treat, right?

“Just trust me.”

He can do that. “I think Wayne keeps some in the pantry.”

Sure enough, you find an open package of Oreos, the same off-brand kind that Eddie had brought over on Thanksgiving, right on the top shelf. You slide the plastic shell from the case and pull out a cookie, carefully breaking it in half over the sink to avoid spraying crumbs all over the floor.

“Hey, Har, can I tell you my secret trick?” Harris perks up a bit at this, though he doesn’t give an outright answer. “Okay, so you take the medicine, and then you pop the cookie in your mouth super fast so you barely taste it.”

He considers this, mulling it over silently before warily agreeing and holding out his hand. Eddie gives him the medicine-filled cap and holds his breath that your trick will work.

Harris takes the medicine in one grimacing gulp, and as soon as he swallows it down, you give him half of the cookie. “Go, go, go!” you chant excitedly, grinning as he shoves the treat in his mouth, assessing whether it successfully masked the chalky aftertaste.

“Well?” you ask earnestly, heart beating in your chest as you await the outcome.

Harris purses his lips in contemplation, fueling your anxiety. After what seems like decades, he returns your smile tenfold, cookie crumbs wedged between his teeth.

“I did it!” he chirps with a level of enthusiasm that has you and Eddie doubting he’s even sick. “I like that trick.”

You feel Eddie’s arm snake around your waist as he grabs your side in appreciation. “You can have the other half when you take the next dose,” you tell the little boy, lovingly ruffling his curls. “C’mon, let’s get you home so Grampa can get some rest before work.”

The laugh lines around Wayne’s eyes crease in gratitude as Eddie scoops his son into his arms and thanks his uncle for the childcare. You grab the medicine bottle with the hand not holding the Oreo half, echo Eddie’s statement, and close the door behind you.

Eddie buckles Harris in and starts the car, peering through his rearview mirror while the engine grumbles to life. “Y’good back there, Har?”

“Mhm.” There’s a solid ten seconds of silence before he speaks again. “Ms. Sweetheart?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you tell me a story? Like a made-up one from your head?”

“Sure.” You lean back into the seat, thinking of a plot that will last until you get dropped off at your place.

“Once upon a time,” you begin, donning your best narrator voice, “in a tiny little village, there lived three princes who were fighting to be the village’s next king. The villagers didn’t know how to choose between them; after all, they loved all three princes dearly—”

“Daddy’s turn!” Harris interrupts, pointing at Eddie, hands clapping together in gleeful anticipation for the game he’s created.

“Uh, okay,” Eddie stammers, clearly caught off-guard by the request. “So instead of doing a normal vote, the villagers decided to have them battle the evil, ugly troll that lived up on the hill.”

“Now, Ms. Sweetheart!”

“Each prince would try and defeat the troll, and whoever won would be king,” you continue the story, improvising as you go. “The princes packed up their shields and swords—”

“Daddy!”

“And rode their horses up the hill until they reached the troll’s house.” Eddie’s eyes sparkle with a mischievous glimmer as he adds, “but when they got there, the troll refused the typical duel. Instead, he insisted on battling the only way he knew how: a competition of throwing balls into laundry baskets.”

Harris cackles at this but doesn’t ask you to take over, so Eddie keeps talking. “The princes were like, ‘um, this isn’t what we prepared for,’ but the hideous, grotesque troll didn’t care.”

“Ms. Sweetheart!”

You have no idea where this story is headed, but Harris is having the time of his life, so you plunge along. “The troll bared his teeth and hissed to try and frighten the princes, but it didn’t work. They each picked up the ball and tossed it into the laundry baskets, easy-peasy lemon squeezy.” You pause there to see if Harris calls on Eddie, but he doesn’t make a peep. “The troll was so surprised at their skills that—”

This time, Eddie doesn’t wait for his son’s instruction and takes the story over. “—that he stumbled backwards off of the edge of the hill, plummeting into the piranha-infested waters below. The end,” he finishes proudly.

Your jaw drops in disbelief. “Eddie!” you hiss, clapping a hand over your mouth to stifle a giggle. “You’re gonna traumatize the poor kid!”

“Nah,” he shakes his head, not even bothering to mask his laughter. “He’s out like a light.”

Sure enough, you twist around in your seat to see Harris sound asleep, head tilted against the headrest and mouth agape. A speck of drool collects in the corner of his lips, but he remains undisturbed.

“Medicine must’ve kicked in,” you agree, shifting back to look out your window. The trees flourish with leaves in various shades of green, a colorful promise replacing winter’s barrenness. Hawkins may not be the picturesque postcard town, but there is still some beauty in it.

“Yeah, about that.” Eddie’s brown eyes dance as he steals a glimpse of you before returning his attention to the road. “Do me a favor, ‘kay? Never worry about your parenting skills again.”

Your brows furrow in confusion for a brief moment. “Oh, you mean the trick?”

Eddie nods, tongue unconsciously swiping over his suddenly dry lips.

“That’s just something Grandma did to get me to take medicine as a kid,” you shrug. “She usually gave us Nilla Wafers, but it looks like Oreos make a worthy substitute.”

He doesn’t respond to that directly, simply rests a hand on your lower thigh just above your knee, the hangnail on his thumb scratches against your cotton sweatpants as he tenderly rubs the spot. “It’s okay if you’re not ready to officially take on the ‘mom’ role in his life,” he starts, even and reassuring, “but whenever you are? God, you’re gonna be the fuckin’ best.” He pauses for a beat before adding, “Y’already are.”

With Harris still snoozing in his booster seat, you press a kiss to Eddie’s jawline, just below his earlobe. Your nose smushes into his cheek, tickled by the stubble of a few days of missed shaving. It will take more than a compliment to quell your anxiety, but you refuse to ignore the way it ignites a small fire within you. Self-assurance is a flame, soft and flickering, burning from the inside out. Insecurity is a rigid block of ice, one that has been poking at you for years, but it begins melting against the blooming bundle of warmth.

Wednesday’s post-tutoring pizza party had an extra guest this week. Wayne helps himself to a pepperoni slice, humming some Bob Dylan to himself as he brings his plate to the table. Harris eagerly climbs into his lap, heaving a dramatic sigh as he plops down and steals his grandfather’s pizza slice. His ear infection has cleared up, thanks to the amoxicillin and your cooke trick.

“Hey!” Wayne barks out a laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “What’re you doing?”

Ever unfazed, Harris works on a mouthful of mozzarella cheese. “Eating,” he replies nonchalantly, a dot of sauce staining his nose. He barely swallows his giant bite before starting on another.

You giggle, handing Wayne a new slice before sliding into the chair next to Eddie’s. “I’m really glad you could have dinner with us tonight,” you tell the older man before tucking into your meal. Wayne had decided to cut back to part-time at the plant, citing older age and the desire to spend more time with his grandson, leaving his Wednesday evenings wide open.

Eddie’s the only one who hasn’t started eating yet, too busy soaking in the sight in front of him. He’s sitting around a table with his son, his father figure, and his girlfriend. The three people he loves more than anything in the world. He watches as Wayne presses a kiss to Harris’s messy curls, the little boy giggling into his piece of pizza. He watches as you lean over to wipe the sauce off of Harris’s nose with a napkin, shrieking happily when he sticks out his tongue and licks the side of your hand. “Gotcha, Ms. Sweetheart!” the little boy cackles, but while he’s distracted in his victory, you manage to clean his face.

This is happiness in its purest, most unfettered form. Maybe it won’t always be this easy, but he realizes now that he’s willing to fight like hell to get through the hard times if it means having more of these moments.

“Eds?” your soft, inquiring voice tugs him from his thoughts. “You feeling okay?” Your fingertips find his under the table, concerned by his preoccupation.

“‘M good,” he reassures you, holding your hand and using the other to fold his slice. Once again, the room is filled with silly banter and kind conversation.

Yeah, he’s good.

You expect the three Munsons to leave altogether, so when Wayne tells Eddie that he can take care of Harris for the evening, you’re caught off-guard.

This apparently deviates from Eddie’s plan, too, because he cocks his brow at his uncle. “Y’sure, Old Man?”

“Sure as sh—sugar,” Wayne says, catching himself at the last second. He scratches at the whiskers on his chin, an itchy reminder to pick up some new disposable razors at Melvald’s. “What good’s all this free time if I don’t spend it with my grandson?” He holds out his hand and Harris takes it eagerly.

“Bye, Daddy! Bye, Ms. Sweetheart!” he chirps, already pulling Wayne towards the door.

“Hold on,” Eddie pipes up, forehead creased in feigned agitation. “Let me give you a kiss goodbye.” His jaw drops when Harris shakes his head in defiance; this time, he’s genuinely shocked.

“I want a squish kiss. From you an’ Ms. Sweetheart.” Harris tells him, eyes darting between the two of you.

You turn to Eddie, feeling like you’re missing a crucial piece of this puzzle. “What’s a squish kiss?” you ask quietly, but Harris still manages to overhear.

“‘S when Daddy kisses one cheek, an’ you kiss the other!” he informs you, clapping his hands together giddily. “An’ it squishes my face, like thith.” The last word is obscured with a lips when he pushes his cheeks together to emphasize his point.

You walk over to him and crouching down to his level. “I can definitely do a squish kiss,” you say, wincing slightly when he excitedly squeals in your ear.

Eddie counts down from his other side. “Squish kiss incoming in three…two…one!” Leaning in simultaneously, you both feel the apples of Harris’s cheeks as he smiles, giggling again when you and Eddie pull back with an exaggerated, mwah!

“Now we gotta give Ms. Sweetheart a squish kiss!” the little boy announces. Heat creeps up your neck, and you silently place the ball in Eddie’s court. Before this, he’d always been cognizant to avoid displays of affection in front of his son. And while you’re not opposed to getting a squish kiss from them, you don’t want to put any unnecessary pressure on him.

“You heard the man.” Eddie’s response is near-immediate, wasting no time directing Harris to your left side and shuffling in closer to you. “Count us down, Har.”

“Three…two…one!” Harris smushes his whole face into yours, little nose pressing into your cheek before his lips can. Eddie’s contribution is much less aggressive, but there’s ample love in both kisses.

Satisfied with his handiwork, Harris skips back to his grandpa. Wayne just throws Eddie a wink as he grabs his car keys from the hook and closes the door behind him.

Eddie puts his hands up in surrender when you turn to him, the sounds of his uncle’s and son’s respective footsteps gradually diminishing as they walk down the hall.

“I swear, I didn’t ask Wayne to take care of Harris tonight,” he says with a laugh, looping his pointer finger across his chest to make an X over his heart. Lithe fingertips broach your waist, drawing you closer into him. “Not that I’m complaining, though…”

“Me either,” you murmur, lips finding their way to his collarbone, sucking so harshly that they threaten to leave a bruise. Your own fingers fumble to unbuckle his belt; a difficult feat considering your eyes are watching the vein that runs along his neck, beckoning you to mark it next. You crave the thrill of make-up sex, to allow hunger and desire to fuel your every move.

You grimace at the cool sensation of his rings against the bare skin of your stomach, a painful reminder of one frustrating barrier. “Fuck, my period,” you grumble, taking a small step back. He doesn’t let you go far; instead, he grabs your ass and pulls you towards him. “Eds,” you whine, trying to focus on your words rather than the way he’s beginning to strain against his pants zipper, “did you hear what I said?”

Eddie nods, tongue prodding at your mouth so he can kiss you deeply. “We can put down a towel,” he mumbles into you.

You sigh, wanting nothing more than to have him inside you, quelling the fierce ache settling between your legs, but it seems like Mother Nature is making up for the two weeks she’d lagged behind. Still, you don’t want to leave your boyfriend turned on without any reprieve; he’s practically quivering with anticipation to explore you already.

“C’mere,” you whisper in his ear, though it’s wholly unnecessary given his absurdly close proximity. You hook your forefinger into his waistband and lead him to your bedroom. “Pants off,” you order, and he obeys without hesitation, exposing plaid boxers that fail to constrain his hardening length.

You give him a little shove onto the bed, sensing his heart beat faster underneath your palms. Locking onto his widened eyes, you straddle his waist as he sets himself up against the pillows.

“Can I ask you a question?” You nibble on his earlobe, grinning when a shiver courses through his body.

“A-Anything,” Eddie manages, hissing when your clothed core drags over his tented shorts, the newfound pressure only weakening his resolve.

You hum your approval. “What do you think about when you touch yourself?”

His breath hitches, hands clamping down on your hips so possessively that his fingerprints might be etched into your skin. “You,” he whispers. “Always you.”

“What about me?” You wrap a curly lock of hair around your finger and give it a playful tug. “What do you picture me doing? Or what are you doing to me?”

“Fuck.” He starts to palm himself over the fabric but you swat his hand away.

“You tell me, and I’ll make you feel so good.” Your fingers tug at the elastic band until his cock springs free. He’s mouthwateringly hard, but you don’t allow yourself to taste him. Instead, you wrap your hand around the base, lean over, and spit directly onto the tip. “‘M ready when you are, baby.”

He needs a moment to collect himself, to allow his mind to create coherent thoughts. It takes too long, apparently, because he hears you softly snicker.

“Cat got your tongue?”

And, fuck, all of the blood in his body rushes south at that. He’s reminded of the dream he’d had all those months ago; the one that catapulted his feelings from schoolboy crush to full-blown lovesickness. Dream You had said the same thing.

“At work,” he croaks, twisting his fists into your bedsheets, desperate for your hand to glide up and down his shaft, “you surprise me a-and suck me off behind the counter, and a c-customer walks in.”

“And then I stop, right?” you tease, thumb swiping at the pre-cum pooling at his slit. “I let you attend to the customer because I’m a good girl?”

“N-No.” Eddie furiously shakes his head. “You k-keep going; such a bad f-fuckin’ girl. Keep your pretty little lips wrapped a-around me.”

You finally relent, giving him what he wants, and he bucks into your hand with a groan. His fantasies flow freely now with each stroke. “Once he leaves, I grab you, spin you around, and–f-fuck–flip your little skirt up.”

“Am I wearing anything under this little skirt?” you coo, tightening your grip on his cock.

He shakes his head, curls already beginning to stick to his temples with light perspiration. “Not a thing. J-Just on display f’me.” He sucks in a harsh breath as he moves you so you’re sitting next to him, knees grazing one another. He quickly shifts to unbutton your jeans, meticulously working the button like he’s opening the gift of his dreams. “And only me.”

“Eddie, I–”

“Gotta touch you,” he mumbles. The way your panties cling to your cunt makes it easy for him to find your clit through the fabric. “Gonna lose my fuckin’ mind if I don’t touch you.”

And, God, you might lose your mind if he does. His nimble fingers rub your sweet spot, a delicious friction created by your underwear. Desire oozes from his pores, only heightening when you whimper at his touch.

“Don’t worry, sweet girl,” Eddie’s voice is low in his chest, “‘m gonna make you feel good, too.” He pushes your panties to the side; the cool air hitting your pussy makes you shiver.

“Wish you were inside me right now,” you moan, almost drooling just thinking about being stretched open as he pushes into you. “You always fill me up perfectly.”

His cock twitches at your words, and you take the initiative to quicken your pace. “Is that what you think about?” he asks, groaning in pleasure when you lean in to spit on his dick again, saliva messily snaking down his shaft and nestling in the thatch of curls on his pelvis. “Y’think about me filling you up?”

“Mhm.”

“M-Me too, Princess. Want to fuck you full of my cum.” Eddie leans back onto the headboard. “You’d look s’good filled with my cum.”

Your widened eyes and the way your stroking motions end abruptly inform him that that was not the response you’d been expecting.

“Shit, I—”

You recover from the shock remarkably fast. “Yeah? You’d like that?” You resume your pace, fist sliding up and down his length, paying special attention to the overstimulated head. Your breath tickles his ear as you whisper, “tell me about it.”

He’s suddenly shy, softening slightly in your hand. “You sure?” His gaze shifts to your lower stomach; only a few short days ago, there was the possibility of you carrying his child there. “‘S not weird?”

You shake your head, trailing kisses down the side of his throat. “Tell me about it,” you repeat with a bit more charge, inciting him to let go. “I want to know all of your fantasies, Eddie.”

His name is so pretty coming from your lips, accompanied by a gentle smile. “Never thought about it until you,” he admits, the weight of anxiety lifted at your insistence, and you feel his length begin stiffening once more. “Keeping you bent over, coming inside your perfect little pussy, and fucking it all back into you so it…” he trails off, still too sheepish to compete the sentence.

But you have no problem with finishing it. “So it sticks?” you ask innocently, as though you have no idea what the mere utterance of that phrase will do to him. He nods, unable to speak. “Do you think about everyone knowing what you do to me? Hmm?”

There’s so much that he wants to say, but he swears there’s no blood flowing anywhere but his cock. “You’d look fuckin’ gorgeous havin’ my baby,” he manages, mind filled with images of you in maternity dresses, bump pressed against his stomach as you kiss him deeply.

There’s further implications; namely, that he wants you and only you to bear his children, which you quickly make a mental note to unpack at a less sensual time. For now, you focus on taking his words at face value. “Bet you’d show me off everywhere we went. Wouldn’t keep your hands off of me.”

“Can barely keep them off of you now,” he says, finger circling your aching clit to prove his point, “but seeing you pregnant with our kid…” He exhales like he’s been holding his breath for years, enveloping your busy hand with his free one, wrapping it around his erection and moving it faster. “Jus’ like that, fuck, sweet girl. Tell me what gets you goin’ now, yeah?” When you bite your lip apprehensively, he sighs. “Don’t be shy; I know you’ve been holding back on me.”

“Okay, okay,” you acquiesce with a knowing smile, “I think about you taking control. Just…using me however you want.”

Your toes curl as he rubs faster, clearly just as turned on as you are. “Y’need me to boss you around? Treat you like my little toy?”

“Mmm,” you agree, settling into the mattress. “Want you to choke me, too.”

His eyebrows raise at this, and his lips soon curl into a mischievous smirk. “Come ride my thigh an’ tell me more.” He pats his leg, his gaze never leaving your body as you reposition yourself to straddle it. You keep your hand on his member, spitting on it once again while moving your hips back and forth. “Take what you need, baby.”

“Need you,” you moan, the cotton fabric of your panties dragging along him. “Need you to decide if I come…” It’s a delectable thought: Eddie pounding you into the mattress, reminding you that good girls take what they’re given, and nothing more. Quieting all of the noise in your head. Day after day, you’re supposed to make choices for others; some major, some minor. All you want is for someone to tell you what to do.

Eddie’s rings are cold on your neck, giving it a hesitant squeeze. “That good?” His eyes are kind but fiery, willing you to beg for it.

“More; more, please.” And give you more he does, only stopping when you cough. “‘S good now.” Words barely audible between his tight grip and your own descent into submission.

But Eddie hears you loud and clear, voice firm when he orders: “Come with me. Don’t wanna come without you.” He’s pulsing in your grasp. “An’ if you don’t come now, don’t even think about trying to get yourself off later.”

Relief floods you as the coil snaps, his dominance scratching an itch too often left untouched. You come with a cry of his name, feeling his own hot release coating your hand. You’re both giggling and gasping for breaths as you float down from your respective highs, lips crashing together in sloppy, needing kisses.

“I love you so much,” Eddie mumbles into you, blindly reaching for the Kleenex box atop your nightstand. “I’ve never trusted anyone like this before.” He wipes your hand clean before brushing his thumb across your lower lip.

“Me either.” You kiss him again, tongues mingling before you confess, “for the record, the thought of having a baby is a little less scary when it’s yours. Someday,” you add for good measure.

Eddie smiles, cocking his head and looking up at you like you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. “I can live with ‘someday.’”

The school week draws to a close on Friday. Coming back from a break is never easy; the kids act like they’ve never been to school before. Just nine days out of the classroom and you’re fairly certain they’ve lost the ability to stay seated for more than ten seconds at a time.

Will is cleaning the tables with Clorox wipes, washing away crayon residue and softly whistling to himself. You’re filing away some paperwork, scrawling For Monday on a Post-It note and sticking it on top of a stack of handwriting practice worksheets.

There’s a light tap on your classroom door followed by an enthused voice.

“Ms. Sweetheart?”

You look up to see Harris and Eddie standing in the doorway. Harris excitedly waves you over, holding a piece of construction paper tight to his chest.

Eddie clears his throat, hands tucked into his back pocket. “Harris has something for you,” he says softly. His eyes light up when he notices the heart necklace that drapes over your collarbone. “Go ‘head, Har Bear,” he encourages his son with a tiny nudge.

“Um, well,” Harris starts, uncharacteristically nervous, “I know you’re still just my almost-mommy, but Ms. Marion had us make cards for Mother’s Day. An’ we learned that mommies love their babies, an’ take care of them when they’re sick, an’ cheer them up when they’re sad, an’ read to them, an’ play with them–”

“Har,” Eddie prods gently, not wanting him to lose himself in a tangent.

“Oh, yeah. An’ I don’t have a mommy-mommy yet, but you do all those things for me, so I wanted to give you this.” He hands you the paper. Two handprints, one pink and one purple, serve as flowers in a pot.

One of the teachers–Marion or Paula–has neatly written at the top, Thanks for helping me grow! and Mother’s Day 1997 on the bottom. In the pot, Harris has printed his name.

“I love it,” you manage, blinking away the tears that spring to your eyes. “It’s the best card I’ve ever gotten.”

Harris wraps his arms around you in a hug, and you embrace him with everything you have. When you look up at Eddie, he grins and mouths, thank you.

You just smile back, feeling as though you should be thanking him. Thank him for allowing you into his little family, for letting you make mistakes, for being there to help you fix them. Thank him for that fire inside you, burning a bit brighter each day, reminding you that this is where you belong.

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sanriothot · 4 months

Text

SHOWER SURPRISE

Dick Grayson x Female! Reader

Summary: You try joining Dick in the shower for some time together and it backfires.

Warning: SMUT! NSFW! 18+ ONLY! MINORS DNI OR YOU WILL GET BLOCKED! hickeys, oral (m receiving), pet names (babe + baby), please don’t do sexc time in the shower, you might hurt yourself ☹️ also no beta, we die like robins

Word Count: 1,168

A/N: look at me, two fics a couple days apart! I saw a writing prompt with this plot years ago and i’ve always wanted to write it! I just wanted to let everyone know that requests are open! I’m still working on finishing work from my drafts but I don't mind working on other ideas. just make sure to check faq before requesting. Ofc reblogs and replies are always appreciated 💖

This wasn’t part of your plan. Not part of the plan at all.

You scrambled out of the freezing cold shower and clambered for your bathrobe that hung on the door of your shared bathroom. Water dripped all over the floor but you were more focused on getting warm.

“Baby?!” Dick gasped, it was hard to miss the shock in his voice. His head popped out from behind the sliding shower door, his eyes wide and jaw already on the floor. “Are you okay?”

Your eyes glaze over at his muscular frame, only slightly obscured by the frosted glass of the shower door. it’s not like you haven’t seen him undressed before but you can’t help but to ogle at him with no shame.

You wanted to surprise Dick by joining him for his post-patrol shower. Help him get off the sweat and grime from a long night and maybe get him dirty in a different way. But you forget one key piece of information.

Dick typically takes cold showers after patrols.

“Yes, just-“ Goosebumps sprinkled across your dark skin, most of it still exposed despite how tightly you wrapped yourself up in your bathrobe. You caught yourself almost letting your teeth chatter while continuing to speak to your boyfriend. “Just so cold.”

“Come back in, I’m gonna warm up the shower.” Dick moves towards the faucet of the walk in shower. A squeak rings out as it turns and slowly the bathroom mirror begins to fog up from steam.

“C’mon, Babe,” He stretches his arm out for you.

You strip your robe off slowly. It’s not like Dick is lying about warming up the shower but that small part of your mind still can’t get over the shock of the cold water. You fully expect to get drenched with bone chilling water for the second time tonight.

“I promise, it’s warm, baby.” As if he could read your mind (or just read your body language, being that he was adopted by the world’s greatest detective).

You step in the shower once again now greeted by warm water and the sweet smile of your boyfriend.

“There you are. I really thought you were going to ditch me for a second.”

You took the suds covered loofah from out of his hand and gently ran it across his chest. You giggle to yourself before answering “Almost did.”

You and Dick go through your entire shower routine together, occasionally sprinkling in small talk on how your day went.

Soon, You’re rinsing each other off, the soap swirling down the drain. Dick drags his hands up and down the sides of your body, the water running down the both of you. He’s completely smitten with you after feeling so well taken care after a long night.

He leans in, dusting kisses across your face, making it distracting you from rinsing the soap from his inky black hair. He’s teasing you. Each kiss, you think he’ll finally kiss on your lips but the kiss lands somewhere else instead.

After a while, you had enough of his game. you tangle your fingers into his hair and guide his lips to yours.

Dick let out a whimper, he pressed your body against the shower wall, deeping this kiss. His hands roamed your body, fingers massaging your ass and the other hand squeezing your boob. He kisses the corner of your mouth, to cheek and then your jawline. Finally, he works his way down your neck, kisses getting sloppier as he goes. Your breaths get deeper while he sucks on the crook of your neck, grazing his teeth on it before dragging his tongue. Your neck is covered in hickeys but couldn’t care less, the only thing on your mind is making sure you and Dick have a great time and enjoy the moment.

“I need to know if you want this,” Dick says.

You look into his baby blue eyes with so much excitement. “I want this.”

“On your knees, now.”

You slowly drop to your knees, making sure to steady yourself as not to fall on the tile floor. His dick already hard, your fingers wrap around it, giving him a couple pumps. You let your tongue swirl on the tip, getting a taste of the precum that was already leaking out. Your lips work its way past his tip, taking your sweet time to suck him off.

“I know you can take it or am I too big for you?” You both lock eyes as he smirks, clearly teasing you.

And at the moment, you thought fuck taking your sweet time.

Your hands move to his thighs and squeeze them, letting your nails slightly dig into his skin to ground. You increase your speed, head bobbing with all caution thrown out. Your mind was already made, you were determined to work your way down his shaft. Coaxing more moans and whimpers out of Dick as you continue sucking him off. You can’t help but to moan at the filthy sounds you were making in the process.

You got yourself as close to his hilt as you could, your mouth adjusting to his size before Dick grabs the back of your head and thrusts.

“That’s right. Every inch of me.” He groans out.

You're completely at his mercy, your mind can only focus on how good this feels while you deep throat him. He slowly pulls out before thrusting again and again, working up to steady pace to fuck you to. He was kidding about taking every inch of him because god, you could feel how big he was. Your eyes glassy as a mix of drool and precum drips down your chin, trying your best not to choke.

“Don’t stop, baby. I’m so close-“ He moans, his hips rutting into your mouth, his self control slipping. Each trust was getting sloppier than the last. The water from the shower runs down every crevice of his toned body. He can help but babble about how great you feel and how much he wants you, his mind already blessed out.

And that’s when it happens. One last thrust that kisses the back of your throat. Dick moans and pants, his chest rising and falling as he fills your mouth with his hot sticky cum.

You mew, making sure to suck every last drop before your lips let go with a pop. You’re already aware that you probably look like a hot mess. Saliva and leftover cum that you couldn’t swallow running down your mouth. Your pupils are blown out with stray tears. And if it wasn’t for the shower cap you had on, you know hair would’ve been ruined too.

But you didn’t mind at all, loving making Dick a wreck.

Dick leans over, twists the faucet off.

“C’mere, I’m not done with you.” He pulls you up to feet again, cupping your face before diving in for another kiss. His tongue brushes past your lips to get a taste of you and himself.

#batman imagine #nightwing imagine #dc imagine #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #dick grayson x reader smut #nightwing smut #dick grayson smut

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serasvictoria · 7 months

Text

Title: The Hair

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Summary: Steve returns from a roadtrip with Eddie with longer hair than usual and it really, really works for you.

Word Count: 8849

Content warning: 18+ only. Minors dni. Smut. Oral sex (f receiving). Vaginal fingering. Hair pulling (that one's a given). Swearing. Teasing. Overstimulation. Masturbation (m receiving). Nicknames (not a Y/N in sight). Reader is kinda shy at times, because you know… Steve.

Notes: This fic has been based entirely on those pictures of Joe in Finalmente L'Alba. You know the ones that I’m talking about.

Beta read by @adrille88 ❤️ Any remaining mistakes are mine.

Robin’s cackle could be heard throughout the room. One hour in and she still thought that it was the funniest thing that she had ever seen.

“Yeah, Robs, I know.” Even though you couldn’t see Steve’s face from this angle, you could tell that he was rolling his eyes. “Very funny.”

“I can’t help it.” She collapses into another fit of giggles and slumps into Vickie’s side. “It’s just so long.”

And it was. Steve’s hair had gotten significantly longer during his time away and it had been the first thing that everyone present had commented on when they saw him during this little “welcome back” celebration.

Steve and Eddie had gone on a road trip when the latter had finally graduated, a small celebration for the boy who had ventured past state lines only once before when he had gone to Chicago, and they’d been gone for almost three months.

They kept in touch through postcards, most of which were stuck to Robin and Chrissy’s fridge with some of the ugliest kitschy magnets that you had ever seen, but none of the hastily scribbled messages on the cards ever mentioned anything about Steve’s current hair situation.

“Getting a haircut wasn’t that important,” Steve sighed, “but Jesus, I’ll get it done tomorrow if you keep acting like this.”

A harsh noise, a gasp of alarm, escapes from your lips and you don’t even notice that you’ve done it until you see that several eyes are on you. You try to save face by shrugging and turning your head away from Steve’s luscious locks, but when Eddie sniggers loudly you know that you had failed to make your small outburst look like it was nothing.

“Okay,” Robin says, eyebrows arched with obvious amusement. “Yeah, I guess you could do that, Stevie, but maybe hold off on it for a while? It might grow on me.”

“As long as you stop pulling my hair,” he mumbles under his breath, “it stopped being funny about an hour ago.”

“Yeah, to you,” Robin counters. “But not to me.”

Her hand reaches for his hair again, already grinning, not being particularly subtle about her intentions. Steve jerks away from her and suddenly they’re caught in something that would look like a minor scuffle to outsiders, but everyone that’s present knows that it’s more akin to a playful round of roughhousing between siblings.

“Careful, careful!” Chrissy calls out when they narrowly miss the second hand coffee table, almost spilling the drinks and snacks all over the floor. “It’s not like we can replace stuff if you guys break it.”

“Yeah, you ruffians, break it up.” Eddie materializes between the duo, coming to Chrissy’s rescue and making a T-shape with his hands to signify a time-out. Robin still manages to reach around him to give one final yank on Steve’s hair. “Fuck’s sake, Buckley. Don’t break the serious sanctity of the time-out.”

Robin barks out a laugh. “Oh, is that what it was? Thought that was the T of… the T of…”

While Robin was grappling to come up with a word that began with the letter T that could be applied to the current situation, you slipped into the small kitchen.

Maybe you would do better if you gave yourself a little time out from Steve’s, quite frankly mesmerizing, long hair.

It has been a few years since you had been this preoccupied with his hair. It was the main topic of conversation in high school after all, a source of desire and yes, envy for some, as well. Because a boy with hair that great? There were many girls that would have killed to have the same amount of volume and texture.

You were safely tucked into the desire camp however. How could you not be? Steve was gorgeous.

Is gorgeous.

There‘s no denying the fact that that stupid teenage crush that you had on him is still present. The only difference now is that your long friendship with Vickie has brought you a lot closer to Steve than you had ever been before.

When you hear movement behind you, you think that it’s her at first, coming to find you to gush about something funny that Robin had done or said in private, but when you hear someone who is distinctly male clear their throat instead, you realize that you have no such luck.

“What are you hiding out in here for?”

Your eyes go wide as saucers when you turn to face him and Steve actually holds his hands up in an attempt to look less threatening, making you aware of the fact that you must look terrified.

“N-nothing.” Your reaction was more down to being in extremely close vicinity to him, because of the size of the kitchen. There was barely any space between you already and he was only standing in the doorway. “It was just… a bit crowded?” You frown, because that wasn’t the word that you were looking for. “I mean, that’s not exactly what I-“

“Rowdy?” Steve offers up helpfully.

“Yes!” Your exclamation makes you cover your mouth with your hand, shocking yourself with your small outburst, and when Steve laughs, you can feel your cheeks heat up from the potential embarrassment. “But a fun rowdy? If that makes sense?”

“A bit,” he admits. “That’s just what me and Robin are like. We bring it out in each other I guess and the hair definitely doesn’t help.”

“N-no,” you stutter as your attention is brought to his hair once more and you can’t help but bite your bottom lip as you stare. “It’s definitely distracting.” You try to stop there, really you do, but you still end up blurting out, “In a good way.”

Groaning softly, you attempt to cover your entire face with your hand. If the ground could swallow you up right this instance that would be great. Naturally, that doesn’t happen, but when you peek through your fingers, you see that Steve hasn’t left. He’s merely standing there, arms crossed in front of his chest and his head is tilted to the side, his brow pensive as if he’s deep in thought.

Clearing your throat, you shake your head as if you could shake off the awkwardness from moments before. Your eyes dart to Steve’s hair again and his gaze turns more curious when he notices.

“Okay,” he finally says with raised eyebrows. “Interesting.”

“What is?”

“You,” he counters swiftly and you can see his brow furrow. He looks like he wants to slap himself. “I mean, your response. It’s pretty telling, you know.” Getting called out on your obvious attraction to him wasn’t something that you had been expecting, yet here you were, and Steve doesn’t look disgusted. If anything, he almost looks more interested. “And don’t try to deny it, I’m not an idiot.”

“Never thought you were.”

Sometimes people liked to point out Steve’s lack of intelligence, even back in high school because he didn’t really excel academically. The prevailing image of him being a dumb jock was ridiculous anyway. His grades were alright. Not top of the class, but he wasn’t at the bottom either.

They were above average most of the time, but when his grades dropped after Nancy broke up with him, everyone seemed to treat it as confirmation of what people had been saying behind his back all along. He still managed to pick himself up when exams rolled along, but it hadn’t helped sway opinion much.

It was an opinion that you did not share however.

Steve was smart. The information that interested him was just different. A conversation that he had with Lucas Sinclair on sports earlier only confirmed it.

Batting averages rolled off his tongue like they were nothing, even going as far as remembering what Wade Boggs’ average was back in ‘82. Name a Major League player and Steve would know exactly why he was better or worse than another player.

Same thing for basketball and ice hockey. You had even overheard him talking about volleyball once. Technically, it was women’s beach volleyball, but it still counted.

The only sports that Steve didn’t seem to care for were soccer and lacrosse. You highly suspected that the only reason that he didn’t like lacrosse was because his dad used to play it in college, apparently. That was a nice little piece of information that you had gained from Robin in Steve’s absence.

“True,” he smiles. “Don’t recall you ever saying anything about that.”

How he would know that was anybody’s guess, seeing how you must have been nothing more than another face in the school hallways, but you don’t question it. For a couple of seconds you even find yourself believing that he would have noticed you, however impossible that may seem.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Steve,” you smile back. The awkwardness has finally settled. Maybe you can actually be normal around him for once. “Anyway.” You turn back to the cans and bottles on the counter and make a sweeping gesture with your arm. “What’s your poison?”

“Think I’ll have-“

Steve treats your question as permission to step into the kitchen. Your breath catches in your throat, when he leans in closer, making you turn the front of your body to the counter.

He eagerly takes advantage of this and puts his hand on your lower back. You feel his hand slide down, can feel his fingers flex as they settle right above the curve of your ass. His face comes into view next to you and he keeps his eyes on yours as his right hand reaches towards the cans blindly.

“-this one.”

“Apple Slice?” Tearing his eyes away from your face to look at the can that he was holding, his expression flashes to one of brief disappointment, which makes you snort in obvious amusement. He was clearly going for one of the cans of Blue Ribbon behind it, but that was not what he ended up with. You stifle a laugh and add, “Wow. Didn’t know you liked that stuff.”

“Why? What’s wrong with it?” Steve opens the can and takes a sip, deciding to stick with his (accidental) choice. If it wasn’t for the fact that his nose crinkled in disgust, you might even have believed him. “I drink it all the time.”

“Sure you do.” You take the can of beer that he had his eye on and hold it out to him. “I’ll trade you.”

“Nah, I’ll pass.” He leans against the counter right next to where you’re standing. “I love this stuff, everybody knows that.”

“Sure they do,” you laugh. “That’s why you’ve been drinking it all night.”

“How would you even know what I’ve been drinking? You been keeping an eye on me?”

“What?” Your cheeks suddenly feel so hot that you swear that they’ve just caught fire. You hold the can against your cheek in the hopes of cooling yourself down, but the can’s lukewarm so it doesn’t help one bit. “No! Wh-why would I- I was just assuming, okay?”

The implication of his words were to poke fun at you, but you panicked all the same. You know what you wanted it to be, but there was no chance in hell that Steve Harrington was flirting with you.

No way. Impossible.

“Relax,” he replies, his voice softer suddenly as if he was doing his utmost not to spook you. “I was joking.”

You breathe a sigh of relief when he confirms it, calm setting in once more. Who knew that talking to Steve could have this effect on you. You would have liked to have been able to display a much cooler aura, but that persona seemed to have jumped out of you and ran for the hills the second that Steve came closer to you.

Not that you had ever been like that at all, but still.

“Do you want this or not?” you blurt out and you hold the can up just in case he thought that you were offering up something else. “Last chance.”

“Fine.” Steve takes it this time, your fingers brushing together when he trades cans with you. “But only because you were desperate.”

“I’m not-“ When Steve stifles a laugh, you turn your head in the opposite direction and find yourself staring at a grocery list that’s hanging on the old fridge. “Not funny.”

“Oh, come on. I couldn’t help myself, you’re real cute when you’re flustered.” You turn your entire body away from him, but you’re only doing it to hide your growing smile from him. “Seriously? You’re not talking to me?” You shake your head and he lets out a soft groan. “I was willing to give you my best puppy dog eyes, too.”

“Y-you were?”

“She speaks! But yes, I was.” You chew on your bottom lip to stop yourself from saying anything, because you don’t want to seem too eager. “In fact, I’m still going to do it. I think that you’ve earned it.”

When you finally turn around to face him once more, you’re subjected to the full force of his hazel eyes (looking every bit like he’d gotten private lessons from doe-eyed Eddie Munson), and his bottom lip is pushed out into a pout. He looks silly and adorable all at once.

“You look ridiculous,” you giggle. “Stop doing that.”

“No way,” he says with a smirk. “I can keep this up all night if I have to.”

“Really?” The prospect of being subjected to it all night makes your heart swell about three sizes inside your chest. “I’d like to see you try.”

Steve bats his eyelashes in quick succession a couple of times until you’re laughing and you swat at his chest in an attempt to make him stop. He instantly makes a grab for your hand and keeps it pressed against his sternum.

The distance between the two of you closes somewhat, but Steve still leaves some space on the off chance that you might want to pull away.

It’s quite possibly the last thing on your mind.

The only thing that you’re thinking of is what Steve’s hair would feel like if you ran your fingers through it and if you’d get a chance to-

“Oh.” Chrissy’s voice pulls you out of the trance that Steve has put you under and you take a step away from him immediately. “I’m not interrupting, am I?”

“No,” you blurt out.

“Yes,” Steve says at the same time.

“I’d offer to leave, but I live here,” Chrissy giggles melodically. “Give me a sec and I’ll get out of your hair though,” she adds with a wink in your direction.

“Oh no, you don’t have to…” You’re suddenly embarrassed that Chrissy might think that something was happening (it was but you didn’t quite want to believe it just yet). The idea of the former cheerleader offering to leave what was essentially her shared kitchen was too much to bear. “I should- erm-“ Your eyes fall on Steve, who looks more amused than anything else. “Talk to you later.”

When you leave to rejoin your friends in the neighboring living room, you can just about make out another one of Chrissy’s amused giggles and Steve’s hushed apology, but you don’t stick around to hear what he’s apologizing for.

The pair enters the living room a few short minutes later, Steve’s eyes immediately find you before Dustin Henderson almost rugby tackles him and pulls him into a conversation that he had been having with Eddie.

Over the following hours whenever you would hazard a glance in Steve’s direction, you would find that he was looking at you already and he flashes you the sad puppy dog eyes without fail every single time. Whenever he makes you laugh, a smug smile materializes on his handsome face, as if he just achieved something grand.

You don’t find yourself alone with Steve again though, making you think that the small moment that you had before had passed and entirely ignoring that it was more down to yourself ensuring that there was no opportunity for him to get you alone. You were in no mood to make yourself look like a fool any further.

The hours tick by until it’s almost twelve midnight and as if on cue, Robin started yawning loudly and exaggeratedly, to make sure that everyone knew that she was getting tired.

All talk then turns to who had come by car and who could drop who off.

Somehow, in the discussion that followed it, it had been decided that you would ride with Steve. How this decision had been made was a mystery to you since you lived nowhere near him and lived only a few blocks from Nancy Wheeler, but when you tried to bring that up, you were told that there was no more room in Nancy’s car. Apparently.

The little glances that several people shared was something that you failed to notice entirely, but if you had noticed you might have figured out that the entire thing had been orchestrated very carefully by your friends, by Vickie and Robin in particular.

There was no amount of planning that could get you in the passenger seat next to Steve though, because Dustin had called shotgun from the moment that he had insisted that he ride with Steve’s car (and had dragged a bewildered Lucas along with him).

When you got in the backseat next to Lucas, you breathed a little sigh of relief that you were not sitting in the front with Steve however, half-knowing that you would end up being a stiff mess for the entire ride. The back was safer, darker, and above all, a little bit further away from Steve.

The rest of the ride is pleasant. Dustin keeps talking about everything and nothing to fill Steve in about what he missed while he was away, even though he must have heard most of it this evening already.

They act more like siblings than anything else, though if you had to be honest, you had seen Steve act similarly towards some of the other teenagers that were present which had only endeared him to you further.

When Lucas is dropped off first, he and Steve make promises to watch a football game together soon, and he drops Dustin off not long after. Similar promises are made, but they’re more of the ‘give us a ride to the arcade’ kind than anything else.

As soon as Dustin closes the door behind him, you’re shifting in the backseat, thinking it would be too odd to keep sitting there all alone. You can be brave for a short while, you’d only be in the car for a few minutes after all.

As soon as you’re moving to open the door, your hand jerks away from the handle when Steve starts driving again.

“Steve!” His eyes find yours in the rearview mirror, not so much saying ‘what?’ with his mouth, but with his eyes instead. “I was going to sit up front.”

“You don’t have to,” he answers simply.

“You’ll look like my driver like this,” you grumble slightly. “It’ll look weird.”

“Really? You’re worried about that?” Steve chuckles and you don’t really notice that he just took the wrong turn. “There’s hardly anyone around right now.”

“You don’t know that.” You lean forward in your seat, your hand coming down to rest on his chair, your fingers close to his shoulder. “There’s this old guy on my street that’s always keeping ta- hey. This isn’t the way to my house.”

“Just taking a little detour,” Steve grins, not willing to divulge any more than that.

The road that he’s currently on takes you out of town and he looks at your face out of the corner of his eye, catches how your eyes widen significantly when you realize where he’s taking you.

“To Lover’s Lake?”

Saying it out loud sounded insane.

Steve Harrington appeared to be taking you to Lover’s Lake.

You.

“Been there before?” It was a question that he knew he shouldn’t ask, but it was out of his mouth before he noticed it. “You don’t have t-“

“Once,” you reply honestly. You catch the little flash of jealousy in his eyes before the streetlights fade out completely and the car hits the dirt road. “With Pete Tanner.”

“No way,” Steve says with a slight mocking laugh. “He’s such a dick.”

“Tell me about it,” you scoff. “He spent about half an hour groping me and assuring me that he knew what he was doing, which he didn't, I might add! I gave him a handjob just to get him to stop. It was a disaster.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Yeah, it was awful.” The experience had been so off putting that you had turned down every other offer of ‘hanging out’ there that you had gotten after it. This was your first time going back there in two years. “He tried to get me to go with him again the next week, but I shot him down so bad that he never talked to me again.”

“Well, unlike him, I do know what I’m doing.”

Steve didn’t even have to elaborate on that, the stories that floated around about him were pretty positive in regards to that aspect after all. It kind of stopped when his star dropped in his last year of high school, but it had done nothing to diminish his reputation. If you wanted to have a good time, Steve was your man.

“I know, Steve,” you say finally, your voice softer and decidedly more shy.

“You do?”

“Girls talk,” you clarify, even if he must have known where you had gotten it from. “It’s not just guys that talk about their conquests, the girls do, too. I’ve heard plenty of stories about you before.” You fidget with the hemline of your shirt just to have a reason to avert your eyes. “So. I know.”

“You don’t,” he chuckles. “You really don’t, but you’ll find out soon enough.”

You know that he’s right, because no amount of gossip would be able to prepare you for, well… him.

“And for the record, I don’t talk so whatever happens here tonight stays between you and me.” When he cuts the engine, you look out the window to see that he had already parked the car near the shore of the lake. Steve unclasps his safety belt, turns in his seat and fully faces you. “Now, I’m going to get into the backseat with you and then I’m going to kiss you, because I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”

“For how long?”

“How long am I going to kiss you for? As long as you’ll let me.”

“Damn,” you say under your breath and you can feel your body temperature rising in anticipation. “B-but I meant, how long have you wanted to kiss me for?”

Steve doesn’t answer your question immediately. Instead he switches the car radio on and turns the dial until he finds a radio station that’s to his liking. As soon as the sounds of soft rock start playing, he gets out of the front seat and opens the door that Lucas got out of a couple of minutes previous. He slides in next to you just as Roxy Music’s Avalon starts playing.

“A while,” he says simply whilst closing the door behind him. “You think I never noticed you or something?”

“I’m not exactly-“ You gesture with your hand and try your best to avoid saying the names of any of his exes, who you definitely don’t resemble in any way. “You know.”

“No, I don’t know.” He moves in closer until his thigh is pressing into yours. His left hand moves towards your face and you close your eyes when his fingertips skim over your jaw. “You’re pretty.” He says it very matter of factly, as if you should have been aware of it before he told you. “Thought you were pretty in high school, too.”

“Really?” You open your eyes and when you see that his face is a lot closer than you were expecting it to be, you jerk away and inadvertently knock the back of your head against the window. “Ow.”

“Christ, you’re like a baby deer,” he says with a laugh. “So skittish.”

“Sorry.” You rub the back of your skull automatically, but it doesn’t hurt much. “I can’t help it. I blame you.”

“What did I do?” He leans back against the seats, making his long hair flop over his forehead and partially covering his eyes. “I’m just trying to make out with the pretty girl that’s been making eyes at me all night.”

“Said I was sorry,” you whisper.

You don’t think that Steve has ever looked more gorgeous to you than he does in this exact moment and it’s scrambling your brain. You can feel your cheeks burn and your first reaction is to hide your face behind your hands. Your fingers are parted, however, so you can still see Steve’s face.

“No you’re not.”

“I am.” His fingers encircle your wrists and he slowly but gently pulls your hands away from your face. “Sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for?” He brings your hands up to his mouth and your breath hitches when he presses his lips to the tips of your fingers. “Huh?”

“For being like this. For not being… confident.”

“You think you need to say sorry for that?” His mouth drags down over your digits towards your palms and you swear you can feel his tongue darting out against your skin. “It’s a fucking turn-on.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“I’m not usually- not li-“ He presses a light kiss to your wrist and it makes your stomach flip. The rest of the sentence comes out with a slight groan. “I’m never this bad.”

“You were confident enough earlier.”

“This is different.”

And it was. Being in a car with Steve and there being no possibility of anyone interrupting you changes things significantly. Earlier in the kitchen, there were no expectations, it was just some gentle back-and-forth flirting, you know that now, as you tried to get a feel for one another.

There were definitely expectations now, a chance of things going much further than before, and it was filling your stomach with butterflies and your brain with cotton wool. Being this close to Steve was making it hard to have any coherent thoughts whatsoever.

“Different how?” He looks up at you then, pausing his trail of kisses. You can feel his thumbs on your wrists, making soothing circular motions while you try to find your words.

“I didn’t think that we were… you know… going to do anything.”

“What else do people do at Lover’s Lake?”

“I don’t know!” That was a lie, because you did know. Everyone in town knew what happened at Lover’s Lake and Skull Rock. Maybe if you had lived under a rock these last few years, you could have been completely ignorant to it, but you knew. “Maybe you wanted to take me stargazing.”

“Baby, I want to make you see stars, but I wasn’t planning on taking you outside.”

“Oh my god,” you gasp. “That’s the kinda thing that’s-“

“Making you shy?” He laughs then, knowing full well how to get you flustered. “You thought I didn’t know that? You’re one of the only girls that would blush and giggle whenever I subjected you to my whole ‘ocean of flavor’ bullshit at Scoops.”

“No way was I the only one.” Other girls giggled and twirled their hair at him, too. You saw them ahead of you in line and found yourself unfairly hating the girls that were confident enough to write their phone numbers on a napkin so they could slide it over to him. “No way.”

“Okay, maybe not, but you were definitely the cutest one. You could barely look me in the eye and then Vickie would have to order for you instead. It was cute as hell.” You burst out laughing at his confession. “You okay now?”

“Yeah. I’m okay.”

“Good, ‘cause I’m going to kiss you silly now.” A small affirmative noise in the back of your throat is all that you manage to offer in terms of a reply when Steve leans in closer. He pauses when he’s close enough for you to feel his warm breath on your face. “Still okay?” You nod, but he’s not letting you off the hook that easily. “With words please.”

“I-I am,” you stutter, “I’m great.”

“You sure? Because you don’t look it,” he grins mischievously. He swipes a finger from the top of your spine up to your hairline. You could feel the heat there before, where some wisps of hair had stuck to your skin, and now he can feel it too. “You coming down with somethin’?”

The only thing that you manage to do is huff in annoyance, words of disagreement already on your tongue, threatening to spill out. There’s not much chance for them to do so, because he takes the opportunity to kiss you now.

It’s a light peck. Just to get things started. No more, no less. But you let out a content sigh all the same. It makes Steve smile again, the ease with which he can read you amusing him to no end.

You whine in displeasure, already impatient that Steve’s making you wait for more.

“Relax, baby,” he breathes against your parted lips, “I was only teasing.”

He starts kissing you in earnest a split second later. And boy, can Steve Harrington kiss.

You had heard the stories, plenty of them, all of them overheard as other girls tried to outdo their friends, but none of their descriptions lived up to the real thing.

Feeling his lips on yours is making you tingle, as if electricity is coursing through him and it’s literally making sparks fly whenever he kisses you. When you feel his hand on your neck, his thumb on the corner of your jaw and his pinkie on your collar bone, it makes your skin prickle there, too.

His tongue swipes over the crease of your mouth and he does it again when you don’t grant him access quickly enough. It makes you feel better that Steve is just as impatient as you seem to be.

When his tongue finally delves into your mouth, you find that he tastes like the beer that he had earlier, but more surprising are the citrus undertones, the ones that are also sticking to his skin whenever you breathe in deeply through your nose. You can practically feel the oranges explode on your lips and the juices penetrate your mouth.

You wonder how much of that is down to your imagination or if Steve does indeed taste faintly of ripe oranges.

He’s blissfully unaware as to what’s going through your mind as your tongues slide over each other. All that he knows is that he wants more than what you’re offering him right now.

Your lips part and he presses his forehead against yours. You’re breathing heavily and you swallow hard enough for him to hear it. Your exhales intermingle with the hot air that’s coming from him, you feel it curl over your lips and spread outward over your cheeks.

Steve nudges the tip of his nose against yours and you both huff a laugh. You wrap your arms around his neck, clinging to him like he’s a lifeline. He says nothing about it, but merely keeps looking at you and waits for your breathing to even out.

“Hey,” he finally says, “you still okay?”

“Perfect.” You tilt your chin up until your lips touch again and you murmur against his mouth, “You got me all lightheaded.”

“From a kiss?” When you nod, he chuckles softly. “That’s nothing.”

You’re a little bit more prepared when he dives back in again, your lips crashing back into each other as he hits you full force. You can’t get enough of him and it feels like the feeling is very much mutual.

Confidence floods back into you, all because you’re with him right now, because he seems to have picked you. He noticed you, well before this night apparently, and it was making you more bold, more powerful.

You start pushing back a bit, your teeth nipping at his lips, your tongue pushing into his mouth until you have him going all breathless instead. You can feel him shudder when you press your hand against his stomach, the muscles twitching under your palm.

Not wanting to be outdone, Steve takes back control a little by putting his hands on your hips and sliding them to the back until he’s grabbing two handfuls of your ass. You squeak when he lifts you up from the seat, making you plant your hands against the roof of the car, head tilting backwards and opening up your neck which he immediately latches on to with his lips.

“Ah.” Your head is spinning, already drunk on him and the way that he’s leaving gentle kisses on the column of your throat definitely isn’t helping. When he starts sucking on your pulse point, you moan his name, “Steve.”

“Right there?” You heave a sigh when he does it again and soon he’s putting more suction on your skin as if he’s trying to mark you. “You like that?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “Yeah, I like it.”

“Thought so,” he says in between open mouthed kisses. “Love those noises you’re making, baby. You gonna make more of them for me?”

“If you want me to.”

“I want you to.”

“Wouldn’t be able to stop anyway,” you pant in reply. “Fuck, Steve.”

“Like that,” he says, voice sounding needy and heated. “Just like that.”

Nothing but a string of whines tumble from your lips as Steve continues his assault on your neck, but his mouth keeps moving down lower until it hits the collar of your shirt. He pulls it down as far as it can go so he can lick the dip above your sternum before veering outward to the parts of your collarbones that he managed to uncover.

Your hips are grinding against nothing at all, desperately needing some kind of friction, hoping that Steve will take the hint since his hands are still on your ass and nothing seems to be able to make them move.

When they finally shift, you breathe a sigh of relief, because you can finally feel his long fingers on the front of your body, gliding up your torso until they’re touching the underwire of your bra… where they then come to a complete standstill again.

The constant teasing is really starting to get to you. You’re so ridiculously hot for the guy that you swear you’ll scorch your way from the leather upholstery all the way down to the chassis.

It would appear that Steve is able to tell that you’re seconds away from reaching your limit however.

Your back is pushed against the door until there’s nothing left for you to do but sit in the seat sideways facing him. Steve follows you and soon he’s sitting on his knees between your parted legs. His hands are on your knees and he slides them down the inside of your denim clad thighs, fingers dancing over the inside seam, down towards where you’re searing hot for him.

Your hips push up instinctively, only to feel his digits move upwards to your hips, missing where you wanted to feel them the most completely.

“Ah, ah,” he tuts, “not yet.”

When you pout, he chuckles and you highly suspect that he likes seeing you like that a little bit too much, seeing how something like this has happened a couple of times already.

Sweet merciful release comes when he finally slides his hands under your shirt and cups your breasts through the rather plain white bra that you’re wearing. He pulls the cotton cups down and you arch your back into his palms when you feel his warm skin against yours.

“Baby, could you-“ Before he could finish his sentence, you were already leaning forward, grabbing the bottom of your shirt, pulling it over your head and tossing it into the front seat. “Someone’s eager,” he grins as he gets his first view at your (almost) bare chest. “So fuckin’ pretty.”

You grab at his shoulders, tugging on his shirt, but he surges forward to smash his lips into yours first before whipping his shirt off with the same level of eagerness as you had taken off yours. His shirt joins yours in the front, hanging over the steering wheel.

Your hand shakes slightly when you reach for him, the palm of your hand connecting with his bare chest. You had seen him like this plenty of times when he was still the swim team captain, like so many other girls that came to cheer him on during high school, but you had never thought that you would be able to touch him like this.

There’s barely enough time for you to run your hand from his clavicle down to the top of his jeans before he kisses you hungrily again. He barely allows you time to breathe and every time that your lips part, you’re taking in large gulps of air, almost forgetting to breathe entirely if it wasn’t for your burning lungs alerting you to the fact that air was desperately needed.

“Steve,” you whine when his chest hair rubs against your hardened nipples.

“I know, baby,” he replies and before you know it, his hands are on your jeans, undoing the button and tugging them down your legs. Your underwear comes along with them, but you could care less. When he realizes that your lower half is bare, his eyes widen a fraction, barely visible from the faint green glow of his car stereo. “Let me look at you. All of you.”

Taking the hint, you reach around your back to take your bra off and playfully throw it right at him. He brushes it off the leather seat and it slides down to the floor, where you think you’ll leave it when he drops you off at the end of the night, just to give him something to remember you by.

You put your hands on your knees and slowly start pulling your legs apart, baring yourself to him completely. Steve’s eyes drop to the apex of your thighs, his hunger for you plain to see on his face, even in the mostly dark car.

One leg slips off the bench and you push the other one up, hooking your ankle over the headrest. You sigh, contented and warmed by his gaze, and your hands glide over your thighs, until they come to a stop on the lower part of your belly.

“Well, fuck,” Steve finally growls. “Pretty as a picture.”

Rushing forward, he’s on top of you in a flash, lips smashed together and his hands massaging your tits. His hips undulate against yours, the zipper of his fly catching your clit until you’re gasping and sighing into his mouth. You wrap your legs around his hips, the balls of your feet digging into his ass, pulling him closer into you until you’re sure that you must have soaked through the thick fabric of his jeans.

It’s embarrassing how fast you come like this, with his pants still on, but when Steve leans his forehead against yours so you can just make out his winning smile, you know that this was probably his intention all along.

His lips hit the corner of your mouth, then your chin, and then he starts kissing a trail down your body that’s still glowing until you feel his tongue circling one of your nipples before he takes it into his mouth and sucks on it.

Your hands shoot to the back of his head, your fingers tangling through the strands of his hair, and making sure he stays right where he is. He obliges, not moving until you pull him to your other breast, where he does the exact same thing.

Steve moves back and forth like this for a while until you can feel his fingers touching your clit which makes you pull on his hair harder than you had intended.

But it doesn’t seem to be nearly hard enough for Steve.

“Come on, baby. Pull,” he husks against your skin. You twist your fingers through the thick strands and do as he asks, but it’s still not good enough. “That’s all you got? Harder.”

Grabbing a handful of his hair, you pull so hard that his cheek knocks into one of your breasts. You can feel the corner of his mouth that’s pressed against your skin curl up into a smile, obviously pleased. It makes you repeat the motion, only this time you pull him to the side until his chin is resting on your sternum.

“You want to guide me?” His hands slip underneath your thighs before you even manage to nod, fingers digging into your flesh. “Do it. I dare you.”

“Think that I won’t?”

“Oh no, I know you will,” he grins.

“You want me to tell you what to do?”

“You could. I might even listen.” Despite what he says, it’s painstakingly clear that he will do whatever you tell him to do. “Just figured that it would be more fun if you’d just yank on my hair until my lips are on your pussy.”

Shifting your hand to the top of his head, you push him down. His tongue darts out of his mouth and the tip of it touches your heated skin, creating a path as he’s on his way down.

When you can feel his breath hit your mound, you stop, just to see what he would do. Steve doesn’t move, but simply hovers above you, completely still and waiting for you to guide him the last few inches.

The last push is rough, your impatience showing once more, and now he’s completely level with your cunt. Whenever he exhales through his nose, you can feel it hitting your center and since his breath is a lot cooler than the heat that’s burning between your thighs, he makes you squirm with every outward breath.

The wait is agonizing and since he wanted you to be his guide, you briefly wonder whether you should just grab a handful of his hair and push his face down, but he takes you completely by surprise by spitting on you instead.

The loud moan that bursts from your lips surprises you both. You can feel his saliva dripping down and mixing with your own fluids.

“You like that?” He breathes against your thigh when he hazards a glance to look up at your face. “Feel good?”

“Yeah,” you moan, “real good. Don’t stop, Steve.”

“I won’t.” He licks a stripe from your entrance to your clit with the flat of his tongue and your hips jerk upwards to chase his mouth when his tongue stops making contact with you. “I’ll give you what you want. Promise.”

“Counting on it.”

Steve practically dives in and devours you. His tongue hits all the right places, the tip of his nose making contact with your swollen clit whenever his mouth dips further down.

What he can do with his mouth is damn near sinful. He’s so good at eating you out that he has reduced you to nothing but sharp yelps and loud mewls in a matter of seconds.

He’s licking up every drop of your juices like a man starved, like you’re the never-ending dessert of a three course dinner, something that keeps regenerating and keeps making him hungry for more.

The pads of two of his fingers prod at your entrance, applying the slightest amount of pressure, just to make you aware of what he’s about to do, which provides a sharp contrast to the speed with which his tongue is batting at your clit.

“Please, Steve,” you cry out, begging already. “Need it so bad.”

There’s no reply, save from the slow slide of his fingers into your entrance. Your walls constrict them instantly, sucking them in deeper. Your back arches, pushing yourself away from the door, until his free hand presses down on your stomach to make sure you can’t move.

Since you can’t do much else, you grab at his hair and yank harder than before, until he moans against you and rams his fingers into you as far as they can go. He curls them up against your sweet spot until you’re gasping for air, jolts of electricity coursing from your cunt throughout your body. You can feel it all the way down to the tips of your curling toes.

“Oh, Steve,” you gasp when he covers your clit with his lips and sucks. Your thighs clench together, gripping his head between them. It makes him moan loudly and the added vibrations are what ultimately push you over the edge. “Ohgodohgodohhhh- Steve!”

Your climax hits you so suddenly that it’s almost as if Steve’s car just got hit by a truck and you’re seconds away from smashing straight through the windshield. You’re not, of course, but Steve makes you come so hard that it’s almost too easy to imagine.

Despite the fact that he’s just given you an earth-shattering climax, he’s still going, but you barely notice at first. You’re practically floating, soaring all the way up in seventh heaven, miles above the car, completely elsewhere as the aftershocks still pulsate through your body.

The muscles in your thighs are still shaking, Steve can feel them clench and unclench under his tight grip as he keeps them wide open. Your stomach keeps tightening as the waves of pleasure keep coming, your brain all fuzzy like you’ve just spent most of your evening getting high.

By the time that your head’s finally clear, in the process of shaking off the indescribable buzz, you become aware of what he’s doing, what he's still doing.

The sounds of pleasure quickly change to overstimulated whines instead. You try to push him away, but your muscles are made of jelly and he only proceeds to grip your thighs tighter, keeping them apart with so much force that you fear you’ll have neat little bruises where his fingers were digging into your flesh come morning.

The more noise you make, literally begging him to stop now because “you can’t” does nothing to stop him. If anything, it only makes him go at you harder, pushing his tongue as far into your quivering channel as he can, until you’re crying his name.

“Steve, Steve, Steveeeeee…”

Your voice breaks and you start keening, your fingers attempting to push him away and keep him right where he is at the same time. You swear that you can feel him smile against your abused pussy, but you’re so out of it that you can’t be entirely sure.

Steve manages to pull another climax out of you, tears it out of you kicking and screaming, dragging it out onto the surface after he had been digging deep for it, knowing full well that you had another one left in you.

This time, he lets you go and you crumple into the door, chest heaving and your brow covered in a sheen of sweat. You’re past speech, your throat dry as parchment because you couldn’t stop chanting his name as Steve made your insides burn hotter than a forest fire.

Through blurry vision, you can just about make out that Steve sits down next to you, but you can feel one of his hands on your ankle, fingers lightly wrapped around it and his thumb making the same circular motions as earlier while you come down from your high.

When you look up, the roof of the car appears to be swimming with stars. You can still see them behind your eyelids when you squeeze your eyes shut. Steve gave you a climax of such epic proportions that you don’t even have to tilt your head back to be able to look out the window to see the clear sky, which would no doubt be dotted with very real twinkling stars.

Steve had no idea that it was one of your favorite things to do on a cloudless night. He actually brought the night sky into the car, just like he said he would, and it made you smile to yourself.

“What are you smiling about?” Upon hearing his voice, you stop looking up and you blink a few times to clear your vision before you look at him. “Hm?”

“Nothing,” you reply, because admitting to what had happened seemed silly somehow.

“Didn’t look like nothing.” You can tell that he wants to press on so you sit up, press yourself against his side, lean your head against his shoulder and rest your hand on his hip. “Don’t want to talk, huh?”

“Don’t think I could if I wanted to,” you admit.

“That good?”

“Steve, I think that the words ‘you rocked my world’ don’t even do it justice, even if that’s exactly what happened.”

“Cheesy,” he laughs and you can feel his lips on the crown of your head. “Good thing that I like cheesy.”

The two of you sit like this for a short while and you listen to his steady breathing. You desperately want to repay the favor, want to make Steve see the same stars as you did, and he seems to sense it.

“You don’t have to do anything,” he says in a low voice, “so quit breaking your pretty little head over it.”

“I know,” you reply. “But I want to.”

“Okay.”

His answer is short and simple, making it perfectly clear that there are no expectations. He’d take you home if you asked him to, but you would much rather stay here. You don’t want to go anywhere else just yet.

You start out slow, by kissing his upper arm and then his shoulder. Moving to sit on your knees for better access, your lips move from his neck until you’re peppering kisses all along his jaw. Steve doesn’t move, he merely watches you and lets you do whatever you want.

Reaching for his jaw, you turn his head in your direction so you can kiss him full on the lips. He plays along perfectly, allowing you to give him languid kisses, with his eyes wide open so he can keep following your every move.

Your hand moves from his neck down over his chest, skimming over his skin, until your fingers reach the top of his jeans. You pop the button with ease, pull down the zip, and before he knows it, you’ve slipped your hand inside so you can palm his length over his boxer shorts.

“I was going to tell you to take as long as you need, but if you keep touching me like that-” His sentence ends abruptly and with a sharp hiss, all because you squeezed him a little. “Don’t do that.”

“Sorry,” you giggle and proceed to do it once more. You can feel his cock growing more firm against your palm. “Couldn’t help it.”

“Oh really?” he says, knowing you were teasing. You laugh again and this time he manhandles you until you’re laying underneath him. You eagerly pull his jeans down until they’re pulled underneath his ass. Your eyes drift down to his boxers and you can literally see him straining away against the cotton fabric. “I think that this is going to be a long night, honey.”

“Oh no.” Reaching for him one more time, you find him hard as a rock. There’s only one final cloth barrier between you now and soon that too will be gone. “Whatever shall I do?”

“Little brat,” he groans right before you finally push his boxers down. You finally look down, curious, and your eyes nearly roll out of your skull when you catch sight of his cock. Your hand moves slowly, tentative, until your fingers touch his velvety shaft. “A very long night,” he promises with a soft moan.

“I sure hope so,” you whisper back. “I could stay out all night.”

“Tempting,” Steve replies. He holds himself up with his arm and it makes his long hair hang in your face like a curtain.

It makes a grin appear on your lips, making you think back to how this started, with you looking at his long hair across the room and trying to stop yourself from staring. You can’t stop looking at it now, at those silky strands and how they sway back and forth, tickling your face, clinging to your damp forehead, and you don’t know if you could ever stop staring.

You don’t want to stop staring. Not for tonight at least. And for however long he’ll allow you to keep looking at him after this night…

#stranger things fic #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington smut #stranger things #stranger things smut #mar writes

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thefreakandthehair · 7 months

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@eddiemonth prompt, oct 6th: Crush | You Could Start A Cult - Niall Horan | Sincere a/n: steddie, pining, post-s4. un-betaed because I’m challenging myself to write these in under an hour. read on ao3 | link to masterpost on ao3

A crush is called a crush for a reason, and Eddie Munson is learning this lesson the hard way.

The very hard way.

The Jesus Christ, all he did was laugh at my stupid joke and I’m going to collapse in on myself like a dying star kind of way.

It’s been nearly a year of this and Eddie feels like he’s being squashed beneath the weight of the giant boulder that is his crush on Steve Harrington. A solid year of his hopeless, pointless, wonderful crush on Steve Harrington.

Everyone knows– well, everyone above the age of 16 has figured it out at least. Eddie isn’t exactly known for his subtlety, after all.

Jeff, Gareth, and Freak had their reservations at the start after years of being persecuted by the same genre of person Steve had been in high school but once Eddie spun them the tale of how Steve carried out from beneath the rubble of a collapsed building, they’d come around. Jeff took the longest, finally acquiescing after properly meeting Steve.

You were always into jocks, dude, c’mon. Sounds like this one might have some redeemable qualities at least.

He couldn’t quite tell them the actual truth, but it’s truth-adjacent and does the job. It paints Steve as the hero Eddie knows him to be, whether Steve wants to acknowledge the title or not.

Robin knew before they’d even gone back into the Upside Down, before Eddie nearly died in Dustin’s arms and then again, in Steve’s.

I was there when you called him Big Boy, Munson. You’re not subtle. He’s just oblivious.

Nancy figured it out when Eddie was in the hospital, still a little loopy from painkillers and who knows what else.

You were on another planet and couldn’t stop talking about his chest hair, Eddie.

Argyle knew on sight the first time he saw Eddie with Steve. It was a little spooky, actually, how on the nose he was about two people he barely knew but on the nose, he was.

You’re the only one callin’ him Stevie, brochacho. And he’s the only one calling you Ed so… take that for what it’s worth.

Jonathan knew because Argyle knew and Jonathan and Argyle seem to have something there, too, but that’s none of Eddie’s business. All of the unrequited love bandwidth he has is tied up in Steve, and his smile, and his way with the kids, and his cologne–

“You got something on your face.”

Robin nudges him in the side behind the kitchen counter where he’s been leaning, watching helplessly through the kitchen window as Steve grills another round of burgers going for their We Lived And Can’t Tell The Tale Because We All Signed NDAs party starting soon.

Eddie wipes his face frantically, hoping he didn’t have ketchup or something on his cheek from Steve’s trial run of the burgers. He pulls his hand back to find nothing besides Robin grinning, bemused and pitying all the same when it clicks.

“I’m not actually drooling. Just… metaphorically. God, let me cling to some shred of dignity here.”

Steve flips another burger, this one landing square right-side-up. Eddie groans, Robin rolls her eyes, and he laments.

“What the fuck is wrong with me that that’s so hot? He’s not doing anything special! He’s just existing in those too-tight jeans and plain tee shirt and I’m ready to lay waste to the evils of the world to get to him. And they say I’m the cult leader? I’d follow this asshole into the bowels of Hell.” Eddie sighs and drops his head back to stare at the ceiling.

It’s offensive, honestly, the popcorn ceiling and the way it mocks him.

“I mean, you kinda already did.” Robin shrugs and bumps her shoulder into his, somehow softer than her initial nudge. “And look, it’s not my business, but I think you might be surprised if you talked to him. He’s not the same he was when he said all that shit to Jonathan, y’know.”

Eddie whips to the side, too quickly as his head spins for a brief moment. He searches her eyes for hints or a glimmer of hope. Something. Anything.

“What do you know, Buckley?” It’s less a question and more a statement.

“I don’t know a damn thing, other than a conversation might do you both some good. But look,” Robin sighs and hops up to sit on the island next to Eddie as he turns his attention back to Steve manning the grill. He’s trying not to stare at the way Steve twirls the spatula… and failing, of course. How are his hands so big?

“Hello? Munson, Earth to heart-eyes over there. This is information you might really want to listen to.” Robin waves a hand in front of his face and he jolts out of his thoughts. It’s for the best– the second he gets lost in Steve’s hands, it’s all over for him.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m listening.” Eddie responds, vaguely reminded of his many years in school.

“I was saying, Steve’s a good guy. The best guy, really. And I know he’s acted fine with being single the last year or so, but he’s lonely behind that facade. So if this is just like, a crush that’s gonna pass, keep it to yourself. But if you really like him, if you wanna like, be with him, then yeah. I think you might want to talk to him.”

Eddie considers his feelings for a long moment, staring back out the window. This time, he watches Steve at the grill and sees so much more than a guy in too-tight jeans and a plain tee shirt flipping burgers. He sees jumping into the lake, rushing through the Upside Down, finding a quiet moment in the chaos traipsing through the Upside Down’s version of the woods. He sees what little he remembers of bleeding out and being carried by Steve through the portal, of waking up in the hospital, handcuffed to the bed and Steve sitting in the corner with Wayne. He sees every fleeting moment, every soft touch, every nickname and split joint and pizza with half pepperoni and half bacon.

He looks out the window at Steve and sees his life.

Maybe the weight of his crush has only felt so heavy in the way that holding your arms out for too long begins to feel heavy. Maybe the forced, sustained tension would be relieved if he just let himself relax.

“I’m with him already, for better or worse.”

Robin hums in acknowledgement before breaking into laughter as they both watch Steve transfer the burgers to a plate, only to accidentally knock the dish off the side of the grill. He must hear their laughter because his eyes shoot directly to the window and he points the spatula at them, free hand on his hip. “It’s not fucking funny, now I have to go to the store!”

“It’ll probably be for the worse.” Robin looks at him and raises an eyebrow.

Eddie just laughs and shakes his head, tendrils of hair falling into his face that he pulls further across his mouth.

“Worth it.”

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington #steve harrington #eddie munson #eddie month #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #st fic #myblurbs #eddie month prompts

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oh-stars · 1 month

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Escape Plan

Party

a Stobin Month 2024 prompt | 611 words | CW: drug dealing, party | Rating: T

“You didn’t have to come with,” Eddie says as he counts the money some kid just handed him.

Steve shrugs and sips at the beer he snagged. “It’s not too bad.”

“Remind you of your glory days?” Eddie smirks and looks up at Steve from beneath long lashes and the thick curtain of his bangs.

“Hardly,” Steve says with a snort. They’re at one of the last parties of summer, before the graduates head off to college or wherever they’re fucking off to that isn’t Hawkins. Not that Steve would know. He’s not bitter about Robin going to college in less than a week while he’s still here trying to figure out what he and Eddie want to do. Not at all.

Eddie laughs softly. “Oh, right, right, this too tame for good ol’ King Steve?”

“Will you fuck off?” Steve says, bumping Eddie’s shoulder and laughing along with him.

Out of the corner of his eye, Steve sees someone walk out of the sliding glass door and onto the back patio. Robin! He turns toward her like a reflex, eyes locking on to where she’s bouncing on her heels, her thumbs tracing the grooves of her palms over and over again where her hands are clasped in front of her.

Time to go.

“How much longer do you need to stay?” Steve asks, setting down his beer. He won’t be picking it back up. He’s barely drunk it, only just hitting the halfway point. Not that it matters, Eddie’s the one driving home tonight.

Eddie shrugs. “Weed’s gone, I have a little more coke I could probably sell, but otherwise, the rest of this is a gamble anyway.”

“So… we can leave?”

“You just said it wasn’t too bad!”

Steve hops off the table they were sitting on and motions toward the door. “Not for me.”

Eddie’s eyes follow his movement, then soften in understanding. “Meet you at the van?”

“Deal.”

Steve takes off, slipping between the drunk and dancing party-goers to find Robin.

She’s clinging to the wall, stuck in conversation with Matty W, a guy who's been obsessed with Robin since middle school. She’s giving him a too tight smile and nodding her head frequently, another clear sign that she’s at her limit.

“Rob, hey,” Steve says, throwing an arm over her, “we have to go. Hop’s on his way.”

As Robin’s eyes gleam with understanding and something warm, Matty W backs away to spread the word that Chief Hopper’s on his way. She keeps his arm around her until they make it to the front yard, slipping out from under him quickly to dart to the van.

Steve follows after and catapults himself into the passenger seat in time for Eddie to pull off. In the rearview mirror, Steve can see a number of kids fleeing the house.

“Isn’t Hopper with the Byers on vacation?” Robin asks, leaning forward to poke her head between the seats.

“Yup.”

“So you just busted a party on his behalf for no reason?”

Steve shakes his head. “Eddie was done dealing and you were ready to get out of there. That’s reason enough.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, but he’s laughing. He reaches over and pats Steve’s thigh, hand lingering. “You’re something else, sweetheart.”

Robin lays her head on Steve’s shoulder. “I can’t believe you’d break up a party for me. How the mighty have fallen.”

“Both of you can fuck off,” Steve says, even though his smile is giving him away.

“Shut up, dingus, you love us,” Robin coos. Steve flips her the bird and turns up the stereo, blasting his playlist much to Eddie’s chagrin. They can deal with it.

Thank you @lady-lostmind for beta reading!

Ao3 Link

#ohstars fic #steve harrington #stranger things #robin buckley #stobin month 2024 #ohstars posting challenge #platonic soulmates stobin #platonic stobin #stobin

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cha0ticspacebi · 1 year

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Like 91% of the population, you were now and would always be a beta. Except when your roommate moves out suddenly and fate connects you with Alpha Eddie Munson. After that, things start to change.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 (Coming Soon)

Pairing: Alpha Eddie Munson x Female Omega Reader

Word Count: 10.4 k

Tags: Omegaverse and everything that goes with it (knotting, nesting, scenting, heats, ruts, breeding kink, biting, you get the idea), college student reader, mechanic Eddie, panty sniffing but not from who you probably think, reader is a little freak but it's just her new instincts, a few instances were reader expresses body insecurities, talks of infertility, minor Steve Harrington x Chrissy Cunningham, and they were roommates! ⚠️ 21+ MDNI ⚠️

divider by firefly-graphics

All through public school sex education classes, you were told that if you didn’t experience signs of presenting during a certain time period, you never would. Most people don’t. That was certainly the case for you. Puberty came and went without the slightest hint of a secondary gender.

Even as society around you exists in the midst of a massive fertility crisis, more than 91% of the population is classified as beta. Experts in the field predicted that with the rapidly declining birth rates that we might see a rise in alpha and omega pairings but so far that has not been the case. No viable differences were seen until last year when the number of known alphas increased by a meager .2%.

Still, many beta couples continue to seek assistance with conceiving a child, which is part of the reason why you decided that would be your field of study. Currently a third year med student at a university, whose promising research in the field is making headlines all over the world, you hoped one day to become a fertility consultant. Helping all those who wish to start a family achieve their dream.

Ever since you could remember you’ve wanted to help people. In grade school you helped the new student find their way around. You helped the teacher with everyday classroom tasks. Everywhere you went, if you saw someone in need of a helping hand, you provided. Reaching a box of cereal from the top shelf at the grocery store and placing it with a smile in the elderly man’s basket. Helping a lost little girl in the park, you saw on your morning jog, find her mother. Offering to spend your first weekend off in a month helping your roommate move into her new place. Even though that meant you were now a one income dwelling, who wouldn’t be sustained for long on your meager university coffee house earnings.

After helping her, you arrived back to your suddenly empty two bedroom apartment. The immediate urgency for you to find a replacement roommate became very real, very fast.

The next day you posted fliers all over campus, including the coffee shop, the library, even at the athletic center! You asked your friend Robin to stick some up on the bulletin board at her job as well.

“I actually might know someone,” her eyes flashed quickly from the flier to you, “Someone who could, in theory, move in before next weekend if that's cool with you.”

You practically leaped at her offer, “Absolutely! What’s her name?”

“His name is Eddie and he’s a—“

“Oh,” you’d never had a male roommate before. You considered this new development until glancing at the clock on the wall. You were going to be late for class! While voicing your thoughts about her proposal, you were already headed towards the door, “I guess as long as he’s not a total slob and pays his part of the rent on time that’s all that matters. Give him my number and tell him to call me, I gotta go!”

“Wait! There’s one more thing,” Robin tries to scream after you but you're already running out the front door of the Family Video.

She watches your car pull away and shakes her head as she forwards your contact info, “Oh well, she’ll figure it out on her own pretty quickly.”

Tuesday was always your longest day. First the opening shift with the morning rush of tired college kids desperate for their caffeine fix. Working what felt like nonstop until noon, followed by classes until after 8:00 at night. By the time you trudged your tired ass back to your apartment, all you wanted to do was sleep. Days like today were why you started leaving a pillow and blanket on the couch because sometimes taking those few extra steps to the bedroom were simply out of the question.

Collapsing into the cushions, you felt your eyes get heavy and all your muscles finally relaxed. Sleep would come easy tonight.

Until the buzzing of your phone brought you back from the edge of sleepy bliss. You had a text from an unknown number.

Hey, this is Eddie. Robin’s friend. She said you needed a roommate! That’s such a coincidence because I’m a mate who needs a room.

You couldn’t help the little bud of a smile that grew as you looked at the laughing emoji he added to the end of the text. Is it allowed to make first impressions from a single text? Oh well, your initial impression, he’s a goofball. Playful sort of boy next door, childhood friends in another life maybe. Meeting him in person couldn’t hurt right? Robin wouldn’t have suggested it to you if she didn’t think the two of you would get along.

Hi Eddie, I’m free tomorrow after 5 if you want to stop by and take a look. Try it before you buy it right?

You found yourself holding your phone waiting for his response. Eyes suddenly a little less heavy than before. He didn’t keep you waiting long.

It has four walls, a door, and comes with a sweetheart like you? Consider it sold!

Sweetheart? Sure Robin probably told him you're a nice person and all but that’s a little, buzz. Your thoughts were interrupted as he messaged again.

Sorry, I hope that didn't come across as pushy. I don’t want you to think I’m some stereotype. I try not to act like an entitled jerk all the time. It’s just, Robin showed me a picture of the two of you at the lake last summer and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think you were pretty.

The thought that he knew what you looked like and was still sending you cheeky messages made you happier than you’d like to admit. You remembered that trip and knew exactly what picture she must have shown him. It was one of the few where you actually felt good about yourself. With another yawn, you typed a response.

You could make it up to me by leveling the playing field? I should know who I’m expecting to meet tomorrow and possibly share a place with.

Within just a few minutes an image appeared on the screen. He was straddling a vintage motorcycle with a helmet in his hands. Oh.

You weren’t sure what caught your eye more, his soft looking curly hair, his dark chocolate eyes, or those dimples in his cheeks from the smile he was flashing the camera. He followed the picture up with another message.

Rob told me you were in class all day so I’ll leave you alone since you’re probably tired. Get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow around 5 roomie!

You should be annoyed. First he calls you sweetheart. Then he has the nerve to tell you to go to sleep, like you’re a child who was up past their bedtime. Then to top it all off, this man has the audacity to assume that just because you exchanged a few texts that he can move right in? Who does he think he is? You should be annoyed– but you’re not. Quite the opposite actually, you just got a little more excited for tomorrow. You fell asleep on the couch with that spout of a smile still growing slowly on your lips.

Heading home after class the next day felt different. Instead of going home stressing about an exam or worrying about how you are going to pay next month's rent, you feel a touch of nervousness mingling with the excitement for a first meeting. You secretly hoped that Eddie was as cute in person as his picture.

Fate was smiling on you today because class had gotten out a little early giving you just enough time to straighten up the apartment before Eddie arrived.

You hung a clean hand towel up in the bathroom, put fresh sheets on the bed that your old roommate left behind and smiled when you lit the pine scented candle that sat on the coffee table. Happy that you could get one more light out of it before it would need to be replaced. You fluffed the decorative throw pillows on the couch and finally closed the door to your own room before waiting to hear the knock on the door.

When that noise finally echoed through the quiet air you felt your body shiver with anticipation. You let out a reassuring breath, hoping it would calm your nerves and opened the door.

“Hey!” he smiled as brightly as the picture he’d sent you while he greeted you by name, “So? Am I as cute as my picture? Because you certainly are.”

Add big flirt to your first impressions. He was definitely laying on the charm but you were also falling for it hook line and sinker, “Hi Eddie, it’s nice to meet you. Come on in!”

You offered your arm in a welcoming gesture. He stepped inside and brushed past you ever so slightly. He must be wearing a strong cologne. Just that quick pass had your senses overwhelmed with the earthy, woodsy smell.

“So this is the common area,” you pointed out all the usual necessities, “Here’s the bathroom, there’s the kitchen. Off to the side there is a little dining table but I’ll be honest I think I’ve used it once. I usually end up eating on the couch.” He commented on how it was a nice place and that it was so close to his work he could walk when the weather got nice again.

“Where do you work?”

He closed the kitchen cabinet he’d been snooping in and turned to you, “I’m a mechanic over at Murray’s Auto Repair. Rob said you work at the coffee shop on campus, what’s your field of study, young scholar?”

“Medical. I’m studying to be a fertility specialist,” you made small talk with him as you walked over to show him where his room is… would be! Where his room would be, if you think he’d be a good fit, “Here’s the other room. My old roommate said I could keep the bed and the dresser but if you already have those we can donate these since they’re in pretty good shape.”

He nodded, “Nah they look alright to me. I’m currently crashing on a friend's couch so this would be a huge upgrade.” He inspected the door handle, “Does this door not have a lock?”

“No, mine doesn’t lock either. I always figured it was because they are interior doors?” you shrugged and joined him as he inspected the boring metal doorknob, “They make portable locks you could always use.”

“Yeah, those things aren’t very strong though and when I’m in rut I can get pretty–” you cut him off.

“I’m sorry, when you're in what?”

The complete shock in your eyes and slack jaw had him pulling back a bit from you. A dejected huff through his nose, accompanied by a shake of the head told you he wasn’t too pleased with your question, “I thought Rob told you?”

“She didn’t tell me anything besides your name and the fact you were looking for a place,” you swallowed hard. You were in your third year of med school, you knew damn well what a rut was but the problem here was that only alphas experience them so if he… the wheels clicked in your head and you suddenly felt small standing beside him, “You’re an alpha?”

He crossed his arms, “Is that a problem? I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable so you just say the word and I’m gone.”

His messages last night suddenly made a little more sense. He didn’t want to come across as a stereotypical hotheaded, asshole alpha. Truthfully though, he had been nothing but respectful so far. He had a steady job and already offered to pay your half of the rent for the first month! He even promised to do half the household chores. Honestly, he seemed like a great candidate for a roommate. Why should his status change any of that?

You shook your head, “No it’s alright.” You rocked on your heels with your hands held behind your back, trying to restore the conversation to its former comfort level, “So, when can you move in?”

His smile reappeared, but he didn’t answer your question. He instead turned and belly flopped onto the bed, you heard a deep sigh escape his mouth, “Shit, can I stay here tonight? I really don’t want to sleep on that couch again.” He turned on his hip and looked at you from the bed, “You know Rob’s friend Steve?” You shook your head, you’d only known Robin since the spring semester and hadn’t met any of her friends yet, “Well Harrington’s a great guy but he’s a family man now and can’t have a lonely alpha crashing on his couch anymore.”

You stood awkwardly in the doorway, unsure if you should intrude on the space he just claimed, “Is Steve also an alpha?”

“Yeah. He and I had been living together for years before he met that sweet Chrissy of his,” he collapsed on his back and stared at the ceiling, “They had a kid, cute little boy, a few months ago and I lost my room.”

“Is Chrissy an omega?” you were mentally taking notes. Before Eddie came waltzing through your door, you’d never gotten the chance to talk to someone with a secondary gender at length before. There were some alphas you knew of in your classes throughout the years, mostly because all of them were loud and obnoxious about it. But none that you ever felt compelled to converse with. If they were cool with it, maybe they could answer some questions for the paper your gender sciences professor just assigned. Having some first hand alpha/omega pairbond experience would be great for your research.

“Nah,” well nevermind, considering the low omega presentation rates you’d have been shocked if that was the case. You could always talk to Eddie about what it’s like to be an unmated alpha. He continued, “Never actually had the pleasure of meeting one. I hear they are crazy sweet though.”

You asked Eddie if he needed to go get anything from Steve’s place tonight, to which he just insisted he’d go tomorrow while you were in class. You had been so anxious for his arrival that you forgot to eat so you offered to cook dinner for him.

“You really don’t have to,” he tried to stop you but then his stomach growled loud enough that it was probably heard from the hallway by a passing neighbor.

You both looked at each other and you tried not to laugh at his embarrassed expression, but it wasn’t working, “So is ramen ok? If you’re going to live with a starving college student you’re going to have to eat like one. Not that you aren’t welcome to bring in your own food or whatever. I can clear a shelf off for you.” With that you got distracted reorganizing the sparse contents of the fridge, “There. We can put shared items in the middle, I’ll put the things I buy on the bottom and you can have the top shelf.”

You opened the door wider with a smile as he admired your work. You decided after dinner you’d do the same thing with the cabinets and clear a space just for him, “Ok now I’ve definitely worked up an appetite,” reaching up into the cupboard you presented him with two options, “Do you want spicy or regular?”

He gave in. Already, barely an hour in the apartment, and he knew he was no match for you, “Spicy. Thanks, sweetheart.”

You turned on whatever movie was already in the machine while you cooked and then just a few minutes later you were placing a simple bowl of noodles in front of him. He inhaled them, “That was delicious. I’m doing the dishes!” you were about to protest, “No, don’t even try to argue with me. You've already done enough and I’ve only lived here about 2 hours! I can’t have you doing everything for me. I need to pull my weight.”

“Fine, but sit down and finish the movie first.”

He sat on the opposite end of the couch from you. You chose to ignore the little tug that wished he sat closer to you.

“Is that candle what I’m smelling?” he asked abruptly.

“Probably,” you leaned towards the coffee table and read him the label, “Evergreen Forest?”

His brows furrow, “No, this is sweeter.” He laughed, “When I first stepped in here I thought you were baking cookies, it was so sweet. I still haven’t been able to figure out where it's coming from.”

“Maybe one of the neighbors is baking something?” You weren’t really sure how to respond because you also had no idea what he could be smelling. You weren’t one for perfume and none of your soaps, shampoos, or body wash smelled sweet. At least he didn’t say the apartment smelled bad.

“Sorry, I’m being weird,” he brought you out of your daydream, “Alpha nose,” he poked himself in the tip of his nose, “I’m really sensitive to scent.”

“It’s ok! I find secondary genders fascinating. It’s part of the reason I chose to study fertility.”

He laughed and twisted himself to face you more from his spot on the couch, “Ah, I see. That’s why you let me move in so fast. Using my body for science hm?”

You couldn’t tell if he was joking or not so you deflated a little, “No of course not. I just think the phenomenon is interesting. Growing up I always hoped one day I would present, especially after I was told I can’t have kids.”

His laughing faded. The familiar sad, almost pitying look appeared that everyone gives you when you tell them. You’re not shy about it and you don’t care who knows. Despite having been focused entirely on building your career since you turned 18 and got that news, you do get asked by outsiders quite often when you’re going to settle down and have kids.

Here comes the inevitable follow up question. He asks you if you want kids, “I’d love to start a family someday.” You shrug and anxiously rub your knees, “I’m painfully single though, so, one step at a time I guess.”

His laughter was quickly becoming your favorite sound in the world, “Me too! Do you mind if I ask how old you are?”

“I’m 26,” you smiled, “What about you?”

“27. I presented when I was 17 and after I finally managed to graduate high school I went to a trade school to become a mechanic.” He laughed again to himself, “Not that I needed any of it. Already learned all there was to learn from my uncle.”

The title screen of the movie playing in the background and the thought of your 6 AM shift were shoved aside as you spent hours talking with him on the couch. You learned where he grew up, that he played in a band for fun with his friends, and that he was a giant nerd. Everything from Dungeons and Dragons, to Lord of the Rings, to Star Wars. He loved all of it.

You told him about your hobbies outside of school as well. He asked you questions about what kind of music you like, what your favorite color is, and listened to you talk about the things that interested you. It was kind of alarming how comfortable you already felt with him. He was incredibly easy to talk to. Finally, your body knew you’d regret staying up any later than you already had. You yawned.

“Alright pretty girl I’ve bothered you long enough. Go get some sleep,” he raised an arm and rubbed the back of his neck, “Are you sure it’s ok if I stay here tonight? I know it’s short notice and I wouldn’t want you to feel like you had to let me stay. I can move in officially this weekend if that works better.”

You surrendered. Standing right up and following his order, “It’s fine Eddie. I offered you the room didn’t I? Besides,” you yawned again, “Since you’re covering rent next month you might as well get your money's worth. Although I don’t have any extra blankets,” another yawn became the final nail in your coffin, “All I had was that sheet. I might have some pillows in the linen closet,” you went to check but he stopped you with his words.

“You’re too kind, fair maiden. I don’t need much when I sleep anyways,” he gestured to himself, “Alpha’s usually run pretty hot.” You snorted and shook your head. As different as he is, you can definitely tell he’s still an alpha. He rose from the couch with a deep bow, “I look forward to our adventures together as roommates,” he flicked his hair back up and flashed you a great view of those dimples, “Good night sweetheart.”

Eddie moved in his stuff little by little, the whole process took nearly a week. When you returned home each day you would notice a few new additions here and there. He stuck his shampoo in the bathroom, there was a six pack of beer on his shelf in the refrigerator, and you could typically hear music playing from his room at night. Finally the last item, a second guitar amp, landed in his now fully lived in room.

It had officially been a week since he moved the last of his stuff in and the two of you fell into a routine. Eddie’s shifts at the shop were usually the same time you were in class. If he got home before you and made some food, he left you a container on your shelf in the fridge. The last few times he’d started leaving a note on the container labeled “Roomie!” a little heart with bat wings drawn with markers that he definitely swiped from your backpack. Tonight you were getting home first and decided to surprise him for being the world's best roommate.

Your mind thought back to yesterday as you got started. You had just gotten out of the shower when he mentioned that sweet smell again. You figured he might have a sweet tooth so you decided to make cookies for him.

You tied your hair back and put on the apron you’d found on clearance after Valentine’s Day. It was pink with little conversation hearts scattered everywhere. A picture of a ladybug and the caption Love Bug written across the chest. After completing the scene with some of your favorite music playing softly in the background, you started to work.

After grabbing the flour and sugar, your cheeks felt warm. You had to check the clock to confirm, you’d only been working for a few minutes and you already felt flushed. As though you had been working in the summer heat for hours. You opened the small window that was situated beside your dining table and the cold winter air wafted into the warm kitchen. It helped a bit.

Setting the heat in your cheeks aside, you forgot about it after a while. You didn’t even realize how focused on your task you’d become. You felt relaxed. Every care of the outside world was gone. After mixing the last ingredient, the chocolate chips, into the dough and scooping them onto the baking sheet, you put them in the oven.

“Hm,” you mused to yourself while looking through the cabinet. Wondering if you had the ingredients to make an icing to write #1 roomie on one of the cookies.

Your mission was successful and while the cookies baked you whipped up a small amount. Giving you just enough time to do the dishes before pulling the cookies out to cool. You checked the time again. It was just after 5:00 and you knew Eddie would be back soon. Scooping the icing into a small ziplock baggie, you tried your best to write on the uneven surface. He walked in just after you finished the last letter.

“Hi Eddie!” You smiled brightly, proud of your work. Then you held out a small plate to him with the cookie, “I made this for you!”

He froze. His body went rigid there in the door frame. For the first time since you met, there was an uncomfortable silence. He just stared at you for a moment. Then, without a word, walked over, grabbed the plate from your hand and went into his room. Leaving you standing there in the kitchen dazed, confused, and if you were honest with yourself, a little sad.

You didn’t see him again that night. He stayed in his room. Replaying that event in your mind you cleaned up, left the rest of the cookies in a tupperware container on the counter, and headed to bed.

You tried to sleep but the more you pondered, your sadness turned to annoyance. You needed to complain about him so you called Robin.

“Hey! What’s up?” she sounded cheerful, “Isn’t it way past your bedtime?”

You offered a curt pity laugh, “Haha, very funny. Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, I’m assuming based on your tone there’s trouble in roommate heaven?” She nailed it and your frustrations poured out like a waterfall.

“I made him cookies and he acted like I committed a crime. He gave me this look, didn’t say anything, snatched the cookie I offered him, and has been hiding in his room ever since. Is he allergic to chocolate? He might as well be with how upset he looked,” you mocked his non existence words, “Oh, I can’t believe the nerve of this girl, making me cookies, letting me move in with her on such short notice! Alpha Jerk.”

Once your rant was over she hummed, “Eddie’s always had a sweet tooth, that doesn’t make any sense. I need more details. What were you wearing?”

“Just my normal clothes I wore to class today. I did have an apron on to keep my shirt clean, but why should any of that matter?”

She laughed, “Sounds to me like you might’ve broken him. Let me guess you went full domestic goddess?”

“Well I wouldn’t describe it like that but—“

She interrupted you, “Eddie’s a simple alpha babe. An alpha who, by the way, has never been with an omega. You cooking things just for him? Classic omega behavior, you should know that Ms. Smarty-Science-Pants. On top of that, looking like absolute wife material probably had his brain sizzling like a piece of bacon.”

You listened to her but it didn’t matter, “I’m not an omega though.” Your words were more sad than you’d like to think about.

You could hear her exasperated sigh, “His brain doesn’t know that. I’m telling you that’s all it was. He’s probably hiding because he’s got a huge hard on!”

“Robin!” You yelled and immediately listened for any signs that he might’ve heard your yell. You tiptoed to the door and listened. Nothing. You waited until back in the safety of your bed before talking again, “I’ll admit, you might be right about the first part. But,” you heart sank a little, “I doubt he’s in there with a hard on. There’s no way he feels that way about me.”

“Why not?” Robin combated, “You’re fucking adorable! And If he doesn’t, he’s clearly not using those heightened alpha senses of his because anyone would be lucky to have you.”

You bloomed again, “Thanks Robin. I feel a little better. I’m gonna get some sleep. I’ll see you later.”

The next morning you went about your normal routine. If you hadn’t decided to grab some rations from the kitchen to stuff in your backpack in perpetration for a day full of learning, you’d have missed it. There on the counter where you left the container, now a lot more empty than before, sat a little note. Thanks sweetheart. He left his signature bat heart. You smiled to yourself and flashed your eyes to his door. As if it could’ve been anyone else who wrote the note for you.

A few days after the cookie incident, you and Eddie had resumed your normal interactions. Although, you hadn’t really stopped thinking about what Robin said. You were on the couch watching some random show on TV when he came in from work.

“Hey,” he sounded tired.

“Hey,” you checked the time, “Thought you got off at 5? I was surprised when I beat you home.”

He went, as he always does, to the bathroom and washed his hands. But this time he made a pit stop to set a small sparkly red bag on the coffee table in front of you, “I was supposed to, had to stay and finish fixing this stupid truck. Damn thing is just going to need to be fixed again in three months anyways.” He stood in the bathroom doorway and looked between you and the bag, “That’s for you.”

You felt the color appear on your face, “Me? Why?”

He replaced the towel he’d been wiping his hands on and walked back to the living room, “Dunno, I felt bad I guess about the other day and when I stopped at the store on my way home I saw that little guy and thought of you.” He spoke in a rushed manner like he was trying to get the words out without making a big deal out of it.

You looked inside the bag and found a small brown teddy bear with a red bow tied around its neck. It was so sweet. You held him in your hands and felt the softness of his fur beneath your fingers.

“I just wanted to say sorry. Not trying to you know, I don’t know. You can just throw it away when I’m not looking or whatever,” Eddie was rambling and it was absolutely adorable.

“No it’s fine. I like him,” you loved him. He was the same color as Eddie’s eyes.

He went to his room after that and must have gone right to sleep because you saw the light from under the door turn off and didn’t hear any music tonight. You sat there on the couch with your new friend for a bit longer and realized something. He only came in with this. If he just happened to see this while already at the store, what did he go to the store for in the first place?

It was one of your rare days off and you were catching up on some laundry. You knew he might view what you were about to ask similarly to the cookies but hey doing laundry in an apartment building is a pain in the ass. If you're going down you might as well bring some of his clothes too.

You texted him. Hey, I'm doing some laundry. You need anything washed?

He was at work but usually responded pretty quickly if they weren’t busy. They must not be busy.

Yeah uh sure. That’s cool. Thanks. There’s a little pile in the corner by my guitar.

You were usually really good about respecting the roommate code. You knocked if you needed to get his attention but hadn’t actually been in the second bedroom since he moved in. Only catching quick glimpses when he would enter or exit.

As soon as you entered, you thought to yourself, My period must be coming. The wall of musky, woodsy scent hit you like a ton of bricks. It was spicy and warm and distinctively Eddie. You stood in the door frame almost trying to catch your breath, Damn it’s probably going to be a rough one, I'm not usually this sensitive.

Once you regained your balance, you learned that Eddie had not one but two guitars. There was a red and black electric one hanging on the wall and a black acoustic one sitting on a stand beside his dresser. He didn’t specify in his message which one you should look by and both of them had piles of wadded up clothing near them.

Trying not to inhale too deeply for fear of passing out, you pulled the collar of your shirt up over your nose and grabbed the first pile under the electric guitar. A few shirts and what looked to be pants that he might wear under his coveralls at work.

With still a little room in your basket, you made your way to the second pile. Opting to just pick all of it up at once and drop it in with the other clothes. You instantly knew this probably wasn’t the one he wanted you to wash. Sitting on top of your now shared laundry were several pairs of crusty looking socks and balled up boxers that had been hiding under a shirt.

You knew you should put them back. Recreate the scene and walk away like you never touched them in the first place. Maybe he wouldn’t notice you had disturbed them. That's what you should do. You knew that. But something stirred inside you. You acted almost on instinct and before you could think too hard about it, you were picking up a pair of his green plaid boxer shorts and bringing them up to your nose.

When you inhaled the scent quite literally knocked you down. You fell backwards onto your ass. A euphoric feeling consumed you, it was like nothing you’d ever felt before. Suddenly your cheeks were flushed, your heartbeat quickened, and you knew you needed more. You smelled them again.

The room smelled like Eddie of course, it was his room. All his belongings were in here. He spent a good portion of his time here. But this, this was more somehow. More Eddie. Like someone had taken his scent and bottled it into a cologne. Then accidentally spilled an entire bottle onto this single pair of underwear.

Coming down from your high you knew you had to leave them here, he’d notice if the pile was completely missing. Thus knowing you touched his underwear like a weird pervert. But he might not notice one pair mysteriously going missing.

With the green pair still clutched in your dirty fingers, you replaced each soiled item one by one and covered them back up with the shirt. Then stood back on your feet, picked up the laundry basket, and continued your task as though the last few minutes didn’t happen.

He came home from work that night to a small pile of neatly folded shirts and pants placed carefully on his bed. There was also a small container of take out with his name on it waiting for him in the fridge. You didn’t have the courage to face him that night after what you had done. So you hid away in your room. Leaving him completely unaware of the thievery that had taken place or the hidden treasure that now sat tucked away in your nightstand.

It was officially one month that you’d been living with Eddie. If he noticed something missing from his wardrobe, he never mentioned it.

Tonight you were having your first movie night with friends that you hoped to make a weekly occurrence. Robin was already here and tonight you got to meet their mutual friend Steve for the first time when he came over with his partner Chrissy.

“I poured the popcorn into a few different bowls since it didn’t fit in just one,” Robin said with a smile as she held up two mismatched things of popcorn.

You feigned despair, “Oh no! What’re we gonna do? We can’t let people know that we live like this!” You turned to Eddie and held your cheeks, “What will the neighbors think?”

He laughed, “Your reputation as a good neighbor was probably lost the moment I moved in sweetheart.” His nickname for you became common tongue. You knew it didn’t hold any meaning, just Eddie being, well Eddie.

Robin didn’t approve of your shenanigans, she set the bowls down on the coffee table, “I never should have introduced you two. You're both menaces.”

“Au contraire!” Eddie defended, “It’s actually a crime that you didn’t introduce us sooner!”

Your heart swelled hearing that, “Aww, you really do care Eddie. Here I was thinking you just used me for my extra room. Is the big bad alpha going soft?

He smirked, “Nothing soft about me sweetheart.”

“Oh my god can you not make dick jokes for like 5 minutes please?” Robin threw up her hands, “Are we really about to bring another thick headed alpha in here? Seriously, how did you and Steve not kill each other?”

Your eyes tracked between them as they bickered. Eddie sat in his usual spot on the couch and Robin was about two seconds away from walking back into the kitchen.

Eddie laughed, “Relax! Steve and I have more sense than that. Besides, he’s got a girlfriend which calmed him down a little.”

“Good, this apartment can only handle one hot alpha,” You blurted out without thinking and instantly regretted it.

Robin, who was no secret to your massive crush on your friend and roommate, covered her laugh and retreated back to the kitchen. Shooting you a look that says you are so on your own with this one.

Eddie just looked at you, for a brief second there was some unreadable emotion there but it quickly turned to a smug grin. His arm swinging over the back of the couch, opening his legs as he crossed one over the other. “Aww you really think I’m hot sweetheart?”

You didn’t answer him. You’d be forever grateful to whoever just knocked on the door.

On the other side stood a man with fluffy, perfectly placed brown hair and a big smile. Even without the knowledge this man was an alpha, you’d know right away. From the protective arm around this girlfriend’s shoulders and the oozing confidence, this must be none other than Steve Harrington.

Which meant the cute redhead beside him must be Chrissy. She greeted you with a surprise, though not unwelcome, hug, “It’s so great to finally meet you. Eddie’s told us so much about you.”

“Really?” You looked back to Eddie who was uncharacteristically quiet. You decided to just file that in the back of your mind for now, “Come on in! We made popcorn and pizza should be here soon.” Robin had returned and gave Steve a hug. You couldn’t resist the urge to tease her once more, “I hope you don’t mind the mismatched bowls.”

The movie provided an anchor as you got better acquainted with these new friends. You learned that they met through work. Steve is a personal trainer and Chrissy teaches yoga at the community center. Steve was telling you the story of how his jaw literally dropped when Chrissy walked into his gym to inquire about offering classes there.

Your body language had naturally leaned in while listening to his story. You sat up a little straighter. Your arms braced against your knees as you gave Steve your full attention. Or at least tried to. The frequent twitches you caught from the corner of your eye kept distracting you. Finally you looked over and saw Eddie clenching his fists against his thighs.

You waited until Steve had finished to say something, “Eddie? Are you ok?”

His eyes were blown wide as he looked in your direction, “Hm? Yeah, I’m fine.” The white knuckles now braced against his chin and the point of his elbow digging into his leg said otherwise.

Steve spoke up before you could, “You sure man? You look like you’re ready to rip somebody’s head off.”

“I said I'm fine!” He snapped.

In an instant, the once friendly atmosphere turned sour and tense. No one really knew what to do. Everyone looked concerned. Searching for the cause of what had upset him. You however were feeling something very different. All you could think about was touching him. No, not touching, your brain supplied. Scenting.

You wanted nothing more right now than to nuzzle into his hair and neck. Somehow reassuring him that everything was ok.

Now your eyes were blown wide. Your brain all at once processed this intrusive thought. You knew it was nonsense. It must have come from your lessons during class today. Yeah that’s it. You were still just thinking about today's lecture during gender sciences because you shouldn’t be scenting. That’s something only done by alphas or—

“Who wants dessert?” You jumped up from the couch and headed into the kitchen. You heard footsteps behind you. Someone was following you. You didn’t need to turn and look thought. The sound of the footsteps, his smell, everything about him swirling around inside your very confused mind.

You opened the freezer and didn’t realize how much you needed the relief of a cool breeze. Standing there with the door open for a moment after grabbing the tub of ice cream felt incredible.

“Hey,” Eddie’s voice melted your insides. It sounded so soft and comforting, “Are you alright?”

You didn’t want to look at him for fear that just by making eye contact he would somehow know what you had wanted to do. Instead, you chuckled awkwardly and played it off, “Guess I’m just more tired than I thought.”

“No,” Eddie saw right through you, “I’ve seen you tired after a long day. That’s not what this is. Come here.”

Your mind and body were incapable of disobeying him. Even if you hadn’t wanted to, you turned on his command. Closing the freezer door and keeping your eyes locked with his feet.

He touched your forehead. Eddie had never touched you before. All the nights you spent wondering what the tips of his fingers felt like finally answered. They were calloused from playing guitar, the palm of his hand rough, most likely from his job. But nothing had ever felt more natural. It was fleeting thought because he pulled back already.

“Jesus Christ you’re burning up,” He went to the bathroom and returned the thermometer, “Holy shit 102?” He called for Robin.

She came running and you vaguely heard him telling her to go get medicine from the bathroom. He lifted your chin, “You are taking medicine and going right to bed. Do you understand me? No work or class tomorrow for you either.”

“But–”

“I think you should listen to him,” Robin said as she returned followed by Chrissy and Steve to check on you.

Standing became a labor. You braced yourself against the counter but Eddie caught you and lifted you into his arms. Robin opened the door for him as he carried you to your bed. Everything was starting to blur together. Somehow they made you take the medicine. You’re pretty sure Robin helped you change into some pajamas before you passed out on top of the comforter. That night you had your first dream of Eddie.

The next morning… afternoon? You weren’t sure until you blinked your eyes open. You felt awful. Your skin felt like it was on fire. If you were still running a fever that was not a sign. As soon as you summoned enough strength you ripped all your clothes off only to be horrified by what you felt on the bed beneath you. Your underwear, shorts and the top of the comforter were soaked. You brought your wet hand up to your face to inspect the source.

“Is that?” you spoke to the emptiness, “Slick?”

It should have been impossible. Everything you knew about biology was being thrown out the window and discarded to the wayside. Nothing made sense anymore. You had been and would always be a beta. And yet– your new and now ever present instincts told you otherwise. You were in heat.

Grasping at the shred of rationality that you regained, you tried to remember everything you’ve ever learned about heats. You knew a few things for certain. One, it was only a matter of time because you were lost to your desires and unable to think about anything except mating. Two, you needed food so that you didn’t have to leave your room again until it subsided. Last? Only omegas experience heats which means that only an alpha would truly make you feel better.

Tossing your wet clothing to the ground you wobbled naked like a newborn fawn towards your bedroom door. Dripping slick against your bare inner thighs as you tried to walk. You made it to the kitchen where, with fervent desperation, you dug through the cabinets for anything you could bring back with you. Then you went to Eddie’s room and without a second of hesitation opened the door. That was a horrible idea.

Where only the night before was just the scent of Eddie, now your brain was able to recognize it for what it was. Alpha.

Your knees buckled. It’s a miracle you didn’t fall over. Another rush of slick dripped from your aching hole. You didn’t have the luxury of considering whether he’d be upset that you were borrowing his clothes. You grabbed his leather jacket that he always wore outside of work from the bed and the few shirts that littered the floor. You could feel the fever returning. You needed to get back to your room.

—

Eddie didn’t want to leave you that morning. He peeked inside your bedroom before heading to work and you were sound asleep.

Robin had taken care of your obligations for you. She called your work and emailed your professors saying you’d be out for a few days with a fever.

Eddie knew he should just go back home because he wasn’t much use here today anyways. He’d already made a ton of mistakes thanks to his distracted brain.

“Munson!” Murray called to him from the office, “Come here boy!”

“Shit,” he tossed the rag in his hand and readied himself for an ass chewing.

Murray looked up from the desk, “What’s wrong with you today? You handed me an order form for the wrong part. You charged someone triple for a simple oil change and now I just watched you checking the engine on a car that was brought in for headlight repair.”

“Sorry sir, my roommate’s pretty sick right now and I guess I’m just a little worried about her,” a little worried was an understatement. Eddie was panicking that you, the absolute divine love and light of his life, were going to die in his absence.

He sighed, “Just go. Before I change my mind.”

Eddie tore at the buttons on his coveralls and nearly tripped trying to walk and take them off at the same time, “Thanks Murray!”

“You owe me!” was the last thing Eddie heard before he ran out.

He kicked the stand up on his motorcycle and got quite a few stares from people on the street and he hauled ass back to the apartment.

Normally he’d take the elevator up to your fourth floor apartment but in his mind his feet were faster and they’d carry him to you sooner. He was so focused on checking that you were still ok that he didn’t even feel winded after running up four flights of stairs.

He fumbled with his keys as he walked down the hallway. Then it hit him. He dropped the keys. They clattered loudly to his feet. He was still several doors down from yours and he could already smell it. He scrambled to pick them up and ran down the hallway.

His suspicions were confirmed as soon as he turned the key. That same sweetness that had greeted him everyday since the first time he opened that door to your smiling face, suffocated him. Though now it was a little different. It was sweeter. More you. Something he’d only ever dreamed of. An omega.

It got stronger with every step he took towards your room. He swallowed and failed to will away the hardness growing in his pants. All his hopes and dreams were answered when he pushed his way into your room. There on the bed in a very haphazardly constructed nest, naked, clinging to his jacket, surrounded by his clothes, and your brown stuffed bear, was you.

He inhaled deeply and could practically feel his pupils dilate with lust. You smelled so fucking good. He took another step and spoke quietly trying not to startle you, “Hey sweetheart.”

—

It hurt so bad. The ache between your thighs only worsened as you curled into the small nest you’d surrounded yourself with. The underwear you’d stolen from Eddie lost its scent long ago but you still pulled it out and threw it in the pile. The few items you were able to grab from his room were a mere wooden board in the dam against the rushing river that threatened to drown you at any moment.

You didn’t hear the front door open.

Your senses became more clouded with each passing minute. You clung for dear life to Eddie’s leather jacket but it betrayed you as it started to cling back now that it was damp with your sweat.

The click of your bedroom door knob alerted you and brought you back. Maybe it wasn’t the door. Maybe it was the smell or the sound of his voice as he spoke to you. You lifted your head and couldn’t stop the tears when you saw Eddie standing there at the foot of your bed.

“A-alpha? It hurts,”

Something awoke within Eddie. The deepest part of himself he’d never been able to fully satisfy. All those ruts spent uselessly humping into his hand or a pillow. “Again,” He growled, “Say it again little one!”

Your eyes pleaded with him as you whined, “A-alpha?” You pressed the jacked to your chest. How was he here? He was supposed to be working. Your fever must have taken over you and you were starting to hallucinate, “F-fuck, alpha, need you. Are you really here?”

The bed shifted, “I know, I know. I’m here now, sweet omega. I’m here.” He laid behind you and wrapped his long arms around you. “‘m so sorry I left sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere now.”

His presence eased the ache a bit. He rubbed your neck with his hand and whispered in your ear, “You smell so good, could smell you from the hallway.”

He felt you shudder with panic, “R-really?”

“Shh! No, don't worry. I locked the door and only other alphas or omegas would be able to smell it,” he leaned in closer, “Can I kiss you? It might help you feel better.”

You nodded but didn’t feel anything on your lips. He kissed your neck. Sparks of pure pleasure shot through your body. You whimpered helpless against the feeling, “Fuck more Eddie! More! Kiss me more, please!”

He couldn’t deny that his heart had wanted to hear those words since he first laid eyes on you but he knew it was just the heat talking. He also knew if he started he wouldn’t be able to stop, “I want to more than you know princess but, I don’t want you to hate me when you're more lucid.”

His kiss had breathed new life into you and gave you the energy to turn to face him, “I’d never hate you Eddie.” You reached into the piled up fabric that you had built up around you and pulled out the green plaid boxers, “D’you lose something?” you could feel your speech slurring.

“D-did you take my underwear?” his fingers curled and tickled against you lightly drawing out little giggles.

You grinned up at him with glassy eyes, “Sure did. Sniffed ‘em too.”

His palm came to rest on your hip and he ran his fingers up the curve of your waist. Then back down again. Savoring every dip, ridge, and shape your body created as it lay before him, “Did they help you feel better?”

“Nuh uh,” he was misunderstanding, “I took these a while ago. So see? Wouldn’t hate you. Want you.”

He kissed you again, on the lips this time, “I want you too. Shit, you taste so good. I wonder how you taste other places.”

He pressed his elbow up, giving him leverage to sit up and tear his shirt off. Next he was up hovering over you on his knees. You watched him, taking in every single one of his movements. He unzipped his pants and slid them down his hips. His thick length was barely contained by the fabric of his boxers. He was less than graceful as he shook them off.

He straddled your legs and lowered himself towards your neck again, so close to your skin that his chest grazed your exposed nipples as he turned you to rest on your back beneath him. His mouth was in your ear whispering, “I can see it in your eyes sweetheart, the heat is getting worse. Can you tell me what you need before that smart ass brain of yours is just mush, begging for my knot?”

“F-fuck me Eddie,” you looked up at him and knew even in your current state that your words had affected him. “P-please.”

“That’s all I needed to hear sweetheart,” he kissed you again. First on the lips. Devouring your moans, wet noises growing as you felt yourself drooling into him because of how good he tasted. Your slick lips gliding against his. He moved lower onto your neck and kissed the crook just above your shoulder, “This might be a little sensitive here but I promise it’ll feel good.” He sucked on your skin and in that instant you were writhing.

“Ah! A-alpha,” somewhere in the deep recesses of your mind you knew that he was sucking on the spot that both of your latent instincts told you was where he should bite down and bond himself to you. Where if he gave into his desires and bit down just a little harder you’d forever be his and only his. Bearing his mating mark for the world to see. As he continued sucking with just his lips and licking with his tongue that was suddenly all you ever wanted, “Mate me alpha! All yours, please!”

He puffed out his chest. His shoulders flexed. The muscles in his back tightened as he growled again into your neck. Straining to fight off every instinct that told him to give you what you wanted. His hand gripped the wooden frame of your bed so tightly you heard the wood begin to splinter and crack. “Maybe after your heat sweetheart. Such a good girl, my sweet little omega, all these big new feelings. Don’t you worry, I’ll take care of you.”

Throwing your head back you let the dam break, “N-need your knot alpha, Hurts. Make it stop.”

“You’re not quite ready for my knot yet baby. Gotta make sure I don’t hurt you.”

But you were an omega? That’s literally what your body was made for, why couldn’t you take him? First he wouldn’t mate you and now he won’t knot you? Were you a bad omega? He sensed your distress in the subtle change in your scent. He buried his face into your neck again, surrounding you with himself.

“You’re not bad! No no,” you didn’t even realize you’d said that out loud. He continued to soothe you, “It's just…I’ve never knotted anyone before and I don’t want to hurt you.”

You brought your hands up to his chest and touched him everywhere your fingers could reach, “Won’t hurt me. I know. Too gentle.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down on top of you. The weight of his body pressing into nearly every surface of your skin was intoxicating. Grounding you with his scent and his very presence. You’d pulled him into the perfect position to nuzzle into his neck and hair, kissing the same spot that he has just assaulted on you with his tongue. A warm feeling bubbled in your gut. This was different from the warmth of the heat. Then a sound hit both of your ears.

A sound that gave both of you delighted pause. The little noise that escaped your throat was somewhere between a whimper and a moan but something so uniquely omega. Eddie had never heard a more beautiful sound. You were purring.

He let you keep going but whispered into your ear, “You’re fucking perfect you know that?” you purred louder, “I’m going to make you come with my fingers and then I’ll give you my knot, ok?”

“Yes alpha! Thank you,” you whined as he pulled away but his hands never stopped touching you. He made his way down to the drenched area between your thighs.

“You look so beautiful for me sweetheart, you’re fucking soaked,” he moaned as his fingers began toying with your wetness and dipping in between the folds of your pussy. You encouraged him with all the moans and whines he could ever hope to hear. As soon as he deemed you thoroughly worked up, he finally slipped a finger in, quickly followed by another. They worked together pumping in and out fluidly, curling inside you, pressing all the right buttons. You wanted to thank him but all that would come out was broken bits and pieces of alpha and his name.

His hair brushed lightly against your inner thighs, sending shivers through your core as he lowered his head down. He spoke with a low hum right into your entrance, “You’re close. I can feel it. Let go for me sweet omega. I’ll take good care of you.”

One more curl of his fingers hitting that delicious soft spongy spot inside you had you screaming and convulsing as slick rushed out into his hand and surely getting some on his face. His fingers pulled out and were replaced with something wet and soft. You could feel his nose nudging at your aching clit as he licked up all your wetness with his tongue. It slid up from the hole and flicked your clit over and over again causing the muscles in your calf to twitch.

“K-knot alpha! Knot please, ‘m ready. So empty, hurts!”

He sucked on your clit before pulling away and lifted to release his throbbing cock from his boxers. You looked up at it, marveling at how impressive his length looked. The tip swollen and aching for you just as you ached for him. The shaft veins pulsed as he pumped himself with his wet hand, covering it in your scent and juices. The base just barely began to flare out as his knot already started to swell. He lined up the tip with your begging cunt and teased you as much as his self control would allow before slowly and carefully pressing all the way inside.

You cried out for him, “So good! More, more, more! Move alpha please!”

He couldn’t hold back anymore. Feeling his cock sheathed inside his omega’s pussy was too much. He began fucking into you with reckless abandon, each thrust hitting deep within your body, catching ever so slightly as his knot continued to swell. He grunted loudly, “Fuck! “M’gonna fill you up so good little omega. Gonna breed this beautiful pussy,” his instincts were now fully in control. His mind became almost as clouded as yours with nothing but want and desire to fulfill the purpose of your heat, “You’ll look so good knocked up sweetheart. Tits all big and heavy. My omega, mine!”

You echoed him, “Yours alpha! All yours! Breed me, wanna carry your baby! Please, please please,” you cries became so desperate and emotional as you begged and pleaded for him to give you something you’d wanted as long as you could remember. Tears fell from your tired eyes, “Make me a mommy alpha!”

“Yeah?” he looked down at you. Beads of sweat from his constant thrusting formed on his forehead. His bangs curled and swooshed out in every direction, “Beg for my knot again omega, tell me how much you want it!”

Your body was jostling up and down from his thick cock fucking into you harder and harder. Your senses became overwhelmed with the feeling of your alpha’s cock, his scent, his words, his love all around you. You could feel how much bigger his knot had gotten, your voice was wrecked, “Knot alpha, need it, knot me!”

Eddie came with a loud growl. You’d never felt so full. Your walls pulsated around him as you came again. He slammed his knot deep inside you, locking you together with him, forming a connection that as you floated down from your orgasm fully took shape in your mind.

“Eddie?” you looked into his warm brown eyes, “Th-thank–”

“Shh, we can talk later baby. Rest while you can,” he held a finger to your lips, “Once my knot goes down I’ll get you some water and something to eat. You’ll need it again soon so we both need to rest.”

Being locked together with him felt so right but it limited your movement. Twisting your torso you looked around the nest for the box of granola bars you’d grabbed earlier, “I,” words were still hard and your breath was labored, “box here somewhere.”

He looked around and spotted the corner of the box on the floor. He pictured what you must have done when you realized what was happening to you, knowing what you’d need, “You did such a good job. Now it’s my turn, we’ve got a long few days ahead of us. My first rut lasted three days.”

You chuckled, eyes closed, a blissful fucked out smile on your lips, “W-we might need more food.”

“I’m not leaving you again, I’ll have Rob drop some stuff off.”

You didn’t talk anymore after that. In fact you fell asleep with his knot still inside you. He kissed your forehead before pulling out when it finally went down, “Sleep my little omega.” He left the nest just long enough to text Robin and his boss, updating them and then curled up behind you, rubbing his face into your neck again. Picturing how good your throat would look with his mating mark on it before falling asleep beside you.

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie x fem!reader #Alpha Eddie Munson #omega reader #Alpha Eddie x Omega Reader #omegaverse

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formosusiniquis · 1 month

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in the library there lived a hobbit

Steve Harrington has always been a romantic. He spends his time in his head imagining possible futures with strangers, but one in particular has really caught his attention: the mysterious son of Wayne who comes to Baby and Me every week with his granddaughter Lucy.

When opportunity knocks, Steve is quick to suggest that this mysterious dad starts volunteering at the library. Enter Eddie Munson, a high school crush, and now Steve has to deal with the fantasy single dad he'd been imagining being real, in the library, and reading fantasy books to kids twice a week.

aka my fic for the @strangerthingsreversebigbang

Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson; Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington WC: 20k | T | No Archive Warnings Apply | Tags/Themes: Children's Librarian!Steve Harrington; Single Dad!Eddie Munson; Getting Together; Modern AU; Fluff; Fantasy/Daydreams Vs. Reality

It's been an absolute joy to bring to life @oriarts beautiful artwork please, please check it out here

And a very special thank you to @thefreakandthehair for beta-ing this for me, check out her stuff here

There's a snippet below the cut, but you can of course read the full thing now on AO3

They didn't really write advice columns for men who work with kids and suffer from terminal cases of baby fever. He knows: he's checked. Although, the reference librarian who helped him was Robin, so Steve can't really rule out the possibility that she missed something in her haste to write her own article.

Actually land a date, move out, have babies. Love the agonized aunt of your future children, Robin

It isn't like it was information he didn’t already know. Steve is very aware that he isn’t in the place for kids yet, mostly in the literal sense: romantically single, platonically in a two bedroom apartment with Robin with no space for their own stuff, let alone a kid.

So instead, for thirty-five minutes a week, he gets his fix by leading Baby & Me.

“Give you some help settin’ up, Kid?”

Steve’s startled from his mindless rhythm of setting out the chairs in the activity room and brought back from his baby-fueled drifting by one of his favorite story time guests.

“They pay me to do this; not you, Wayne,” he says, not bothering to turn all the way around. “You can fill the silence if you really want to do something though.” Steve’s set him an impossible task: Wayne is a talker the way Dustin has good manners. The only grandpa who comes to story time, he’d been coming for a month before a particularly bold widow and her youngest granddaughter got a name out of him— but not the date she’d been hoping for.

He takes his usual seat in the circle, across from where Steve is still standing, arms crossed and empty.

“Where’s?” Steve asks.

Wayne quirks his brow down. When Steve follows it all the way down to the floor, Lucy is happily making her way to them in a slow and effortful crawl across the room.

“Been doin’ that since the last time we’s here,” Wayne says.

“Is that why you all missed last week?”

“Nah,” he waves the thought away, “Lucy Joan caught a cold. Didn’t think you’d want ‘er spreadin’ it to the rest of the kids. ‘Course her Daddy was a wreck, had to pry him out with a crowbar to get him to go to work this week.”

Pink cheeked with a gummy smile, Lucy is the picture of health today. She’s made it to Steve now, tugging on his pant leg trying to stand. Crawling is going to lead quickly into walking he suspects.

She doesn’t make it to standing, her tugging taking on a new message. Steve has a rule about picking up any of the babies, a need to create personal boundaries for him and them, but her big, brown doll eyes are harder to resist each week.

#steddie #steddie fic #stranger things reverse bang #strvbb #stranger things reverse bang 2024 #librarian steve harrington #single dad eddie munson #my fic #steve and robin #modern era fic #stranger things fic

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syddsatyrn · 3 months

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Chapter 1⛤Chapter 2 ⛤ Chapter 3 ⛤Chapter 4 ⛤ Chapter 5 Masterlist

⛤Pairing: - Eddie Munson x FemReader

⛤Warnings: Swearing, drinking / smoking, drugs, fluff, friends to lovers, kissing, a little angst if you squint.

⛤Words: 2.7k

⛤Song: "Photograph" By Def Leppard

⛤Summary: Moving away from Hawkins was the biggest mistake of your life. You left your best friends and forgot to stay in touch. Years later, you decide to hit up your good friend Steve. Its time to make a plan and make amends. The one thing you didn't expect was feelings to resurface when you saw your old high school crush.

⛤Notes: This series is 18+ Minors scram. I've got a super extra long chapter for you guys today! @hellfiremunsonn is my faithful beta reader and assists me so much. Thank you guys for making my come-back series a fun one. My next chapter will be the end of this series.

⛤Chapter: 4 "Subtle" Chemistry Star court mall is always at least a little crowded. The lively hum of conversations, laughter, and distant music formed a vibrant backdrop. Storefronts beckoned with their displays of trendy fashion, electronics, and enticing sales. Shoppers meandered through the wide walkways, their bags filled with many treasures. Neon signs buzzing, the occasional sounds of a cash register, and the scent of cinnamon drifting through the air. It was just like you remembered it. You had a blast hanging out with Robin. She picked out a brand new pair of ankle length combat boots. You both decided to get ice cream and take a break from walking around. The food court wasn’t super crowded, it was the perfect place to chat. “Can I tell you something? It’s a secret so dont go telling Steve.” “Ohhhh is it secret time?” I won't tell Stevie boy, I promise.” Robin raises her right hand, “Scouts honor.” “Okay. Uhhh…well…I slept in Eddie’s bed last night. He came home from tour in the middle of the night.” Your face turns redder with every word. “Oh shit. Wow Y/N, I didn't think you had it in yah.” She chuckles and puts another spoonful of strawberry ice cream in her mouth. “We didn't do anything!” You affirm your tone a little on the defensive side. “What!? I’m just saying you guys have been madly in love with each other since sophomore year and neither of you have had the audacity to tell each other for some unspoken reason…until now.” She's not wrong, Robin has always been one to spell it out for you loud and clear. She never holds back, it's something you’ve always appreciated about her. Robin has been telling you to come clean for ages now.

“Look, I’m not saying you’re wrong, but I don't want to screw up my friendship with Eddie. Also, he's like a big rockstar now, I doubt he has any time for stuff like that.” You explain as you sink into your chair. "He probably has some cool metalhead girlfriend I don't know about.” You take a bite of your vanilla ice cream. It's so fitting for this conversation, vanilla ice cream for a vanilla person.

“God it's been years and I still can’t wrap my head around your stupid self doubt.” Robin says, shaking her head. “Eddie doesn't have a girlfriend. When you left he moped around his trailer for weeks. No one could get him to come out, not even Dustin. One time I went over to his place to check on him and he was sloshed out of his mind. He told me, "The songs he sings don't mean a thing if you’re not there to hear it.”

“He didn't say that.” You scoff.

“Oh but he did, and he keeps a photo of you in his wallet.” Robin says teasingly.

“You know about that too?!” It's becoming apparent that everyone knows this except you.

“Of course I do. It's me, I know everything.” Robin says with a cocky tone.

You and Robin decide to float around the mall a little longer. A small department store was calling your name. The story had low lighting and they were playing some classic rock on the radio. Robin's goal was a pair of shoes, your goal however, was a hot outfit for tonight's party at the hideout. It honestly didn't take you long to find the cutest black skirt with chain embellishments, you picked out some new stockings too. —-------------- After the girls left Eddie felt like he could finally breathe. He finishes his coffee and breakfast, then falls backwards onto his bed. He stares at his ceiling as he finds himself lost in the intricate dance of thoughts that revolve around you. Images of you smiling genuine and heartwarming, flashed like snapshots in his imagination. Casual conversations, stolen glances, and the subtle chemistry that lingered in the air when you were near. The anticipation of his next encounter with you and the sweet nervousness that comes with it. The soft glow of the afternoon sun is casting a warm hue across his room. Steve and Dustin went grocery shopping, the apartment was silent. Eddie pulls himself out of his thoughts and shakes them off. He grabs a pre-rolled joint and lights it, Eddie is nervous and he knows it. All these years and he still can't tell you the truth. His life has changed so drastically for the better ever since he signed that record deal. But there was always something missing, something he was holding out for. Of course many girls are interested in him, but he's not interested in many girls. He promised himself after you left that next time he sees you, he is gonna tell you. If he misses this opportunity, he might lose you entirely. He almost completely gave up on you after a year of no contact. But every time he opened his wallet, he saw a glimpse of your face, he couldn't bring himself to get rid of you or the photo. Eddie puffs on his joint, each inhale making him a little less anxious. He tries to think about something else. It will be nice to hang out at the hideout again. That was where he played his very first gigs when the band was just starting out. They barely had any attendees and the band definitely sounded rough. Then Eddie recalls you being there for every single show. Your smiling face in the crowd, cheering him on after every song. “Uhgg, get it together, man.” He says under his breath. He finishes his joint and decides to get dressed. —--------------- When you returned with Robin, Steve was putting away the last of the groceries. “We’re back!” Robin announces. Dustin is reading on the couch, when you look down the hall, Eddie’s bedroom door is open. “Welcome back, we will head to the bar when I finish this. I also need to get dressed. Eddie is out, said something about dropping off some equipment with Gareth. He’s gonna meet us there.” Steve says. Honestly, you were a little bummed. You were hoping he’d be around when you got back. But you shrug it off and take your stuff to his room. Robin follows you and shuts the door behind her. You both change into something a bit more stylish. You had a cropped Def Leppard shirt that you paired with the new skirt. This outfit would go well with boots and stockings. Robin didn't change anything really, just her shirt and shoes. You put on a couple of layered chain necklaces, a few rings, and a pair of small silver hoop earrings. “I am astonished really.” Robin says with a smile as she looks you up and down. You tilt your head in response and she laughs. “Eddie is gonna have a full on heart attack when he sees you.” Your face feels a little hot and you laugh nervously. “Do you think so?” “Oh yeah. No doubt.” She smirks. “Someones lookin’ to get lucky.” “Shut up!” You place your hand over her mouth. She does the unthinkable licks the palm of your hand. You give her this horrified face followed by both of you hysterically laughing like a couple of hyenas. ---------------

The sun was setting and the sky grew darker with every passing minute. There is a chill in the air, which makes you shiver when you open the door. Steve drove to the hideout, it wasn’t far, maybe ten minutes away. When Steve pulled into the parking lot, you looked out the window and saw Eddie’s van. He’s already here, and you start to feel a bit anxious. The Hideout had not changed a bit. The neon signs in the window buzzed as you walked inside. Posters, fliers, and rustic decor filled the walls. You hear the low hum of chatter and the clinking of glasses, the place has a warm glow to it. You used to watch Eddie play here all the time. It felt like your heart was swelling, it's that bittersweet feeling again. You turn the corner and see Eddie and Gareth sitting in a booth. Eddie waves and one by one you all walk over and pile into the same booth. You sit across from Eddie, you can see his face getting a little red. “You uh…look really good, Y/N.” Eddie says with a half smile. He reaches over and adjusts one of your chain necklaces. Robin sees this and covers her mouth, trying not to laugh at how embarrassed you are. But you had to pull all that on hold for now. Nancy and Johnathan walk up and greet the group. You practically climb over Robin and wrap Nancy in a tight hug. “Oh! Y/N? You’re here?! When did you get into town?!” She hugs you back just as hard. “The other day! It's so good to see you, Nance.” Nancy smiles and fights back tears, she didn't expect any kind of reunion. The thing is, You both grew up together. Your mom was friends with Mrs. Wheeler. You spent a lot of your childhood with Nancy and her brother Mike. When you left, Nancy thought she lost you to the city for good. “Don’t cry! I’m sorry I’ve been gone for so long.” “They are happy tears, it’s fine. I’m just so happy to see you.” Everyone in the group is touched to see two best friends reunite. Robin looks like she might start crying too. You give Jonathan a hug as well, It's nice to see him doing well. He wasn't always full of smiles and you’ve wondered how he's been over the years. You remember Jonathan used to take photos of the gang, half of the polaroids you have were probably taken by him. A bartender comes by and takes our order. Eddie ordered whiskey and so did you. Vodka soda for Nancy and Robin, Steve and Jonathan order beers. The clinking of glasses, the occasional burst of laughter, and the subtle hum of the other patrons deep in conversation created a soundtrack to this shared experience. You updated your friends on your new life, and once again apologized for being an awful friend. Everyone was so happy to see you that it didn't matter anymore. “You better not leave and go back to ignoring us.” Robin says. --------------------

The sun was setting and the sky grew darker with every passing minute. There is a chill in the air, which makes you shiver when you open the door. Steve drove to the hideout, it wasn’t far, maybe ten minutes away. When Steve pulled into the parking lot, you looked out the window and saw Eddie’s van. He’s already here, and you start to feel a bit anxious. The Hideout had not changed a bit. The neon signs in the window buzzed as you walked inside. Posters, fliers, and rustic decor filled the walls. You hear the low hum of chatter and the clinking of glasses, the place has a warm glow to it. You used to watch Eddie play here all the time. It felt like your heart was swelling, it's that bittersweet feeling again. You turn the corner and see Eddie and Gareth sitting in a booth. Eddie waves and one by one you all walk over and pile into the same booth. You sit across from Eddie, you can see his face getting a little red. “You uh…look really good, Y/N.” Eddie says with a half smile. He reaches over and adjusts one of your chain necklaces. Robin sees this and covers her mouth, trying not to laugh at how embarrassed you are. But you had to pull all that on hold for now. Nancy and Johnathan walk up and greet the group. You practically climb over Robin and wrap Nancy in a tight hug. “Oh! Y/N? You’re here?! When did you get into town?!” She asks and hugs you back just as hard. “The other day! It's so good to see you, Nance.” Nancy smiles and fights back tears, she didn't expect any kind of reunion. The thing is, You both grew up together. Your mom was friends with Mrs. Wheeler. You spent a lot of your childhood with Nancy and her brother Mike. When you left, Nancy thought she lost you to the city for good. “Don’t cry! I’m sorry I’ve been gone for so long.” “They are happy tears, it’s fine. I’m just so happy to see you.” Nancy says between sobs. Everyone in the group is touched to see two best friends reunite. Robin looks like she might start crying too. You give Jonathan a hug as well, It's nice to see him doing well. He wasn't always full of smiles and you’ve wondered how he's been over the years. You remember Jonathan used to take photos of the gang, half of the polaroids you have were probably taken by him. A bartender comes by and takes our order. Eddie ordered whiskey and so did you. Vodka soda for Nancy and Robin, Steve and Jonathan order beers. The clinking of glasses, the occasional burst of laughter, and the subtle hum of the other patrons deep in conversation created a soundtrack to this shared experience. You updated your friends on your new life, and once again apologized for being an awful friend. Everyone was so happy to see you that it didn't matter anymore. “You better not leave and go back to ignoring us.” Robin says.

“I wouldn’t even dream of it.” You reply.Hours slipped away unnoticed as the night unfolded, a mosaic of laughter, camaraderie, and the shared appreciation of the moment. Eddie could help but sneak glances at you, it was hard not to. He’s been trying to keep his cool all night, he had several shots of whiskey to build up some liquid courage. The world outside the café window dimmed as everyone delved into stories and life updates.

Eddie hands you his pack of cigarettes, silently asking if you’d like to go outside with him. You take one and place it between your lips. You and Eddie excuse yourselves from the group and head outside, the cold air sent a shiver up your spine.

“Brr! I forgot how cold it is when the sun goes down. I should have brought a coat.” You offhandedly say as Eddie lights your cigarette for you. Eddie removes his leather jacket, leaving him with a thick black hoodie. He drapes it around your shoulders and you are immediately much more comfortable. Your face gets a little red, he’s always been such a gentleman. You both lean up against Eddie's van. His thoughts are a symphony of emotions, dancing between hope and uncertainty. The evening was filled with a serene ambiance, and even in the quiet moments, you still felt comfort in his presence. “Y/N…” Eddie finally pipes up. “Yeah?” “I think we should talk. Y’know…about where we stand with each other.” Eddie admits. Your eyes widen, this is finally happening. The anxiety sets in and you try to swallow your nerves. Eddie stands in front of you, looking at his feet. “Do you remember, right before you left, that time we got high in my van next to lovers lake?” “Yeah. I do.” You answer quietly. “Do you remember me telling you that no one could ever replace you in my life?” He asks and you nod. You remember it like it was yesterday. It was a sunny day, the light glistening along the top of the water. You and Eddie passed a joint back and forth. You gave him a small wallet sized photo from picture day. “I still have that photo, I keep it in my wallet. You told me to keep it as a reminder, so I don't forget you. The thing is, meeting you was like finding my favorite song in a world full of noise, and I can't stop hitting replay no matter how many times I hear it.” Eddie takes a deep breath. It's like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. You were stunned, absolutely speechless. In that moment, the unspoken became words, there was no going back now. Eddie moves a few inches closer, pinning you between himself and van. Under the glow from a nearby streetlamp, the air was charged with tension. You met his gaze with a gentle smile. Without another word, Eddie cupped your face in his hands. Time seemed to slow down as Eddie leaned in and pressed his lips against yours. You kiss him back, It spoke volumes with no words at all. Eddie presses his body against yours and you wrap your arms around his neck to bring him closer. You can't stop shaking, your nerves combined with the cold air made it impossible to be completely still. Eddie finally breaks away from you and opens the back doors to his van. “Hop in, you’re freezing to death.” Eddie says, you take his hand as he helps you into the van then he climbs in after you and shuts the door. You take a seat on an upside down milk crate while Eddie starts the car and cranks the heat. You still can't believe what just happened, you’ve only ever dreamed of this moment. Eddie grabs his acoustic guitar and sits on top of a large amp. He took a deep breath, fingers gently caressing the strings of the guitar, and he started to strum. “I feel so stupid for leaving you alone out here.” You say while looking down at your hands. “If anyone deserves an apology it’s you. I just assumed you moved on and didn’t need any reminders.” “Don’t worry your pretty little head, I forgive you.” He chuckles. “Besides, they say absence makes the heart grow fonder, right?” You recognize the tune he's playing, you’ve heard it before. “What song is this?” You ask, it's so familiar. “Photograph by Def Leppard.” He answers with a half smile and you smile back at him, your eyes widen as you recall the lyrics. He played this song for you before, but you ant remember how long ago.

“Y’know, I still haven't figured out how to sit across from you and not be madly in love with everything you do.” You reply, hearing him play was actually really calming, you’ve missed this side of him. The guitar became an extension of his feelings, his voice carrying a sweetness to it, like warm honey. ♫“I see your face every time I dream

On every page, every magazine

So wild and free,

So far from me

You're all I want, my fantasy

Oh, look what you've done to this rock 'n' roll clown

Oh-oh, look what you've done

Photograph~

I don't want your photograph

I don't need your photograph

All I've got is a photograph

But it's not enough”♫ As the last chord resonated. Eddie sets the guitar against the wall of the van. You spring into his arms, tears stinging the corners of your eyes. You bury your face in his shoulder, you didn't expect to get so emotional. You’re so happy but you still feel so guilty, you question why anyone would leave this feeling behind.

Eddie pulls you into his lap. “Are you crying?! Oh shit, no don’t cry…”Eddie squeezes you a little tighter. “Shhh…it's okay, sweetheart.”

You took a deep breath, “I love you, Eddie.” The words spilled out. “I love you too. I’ve always loved you.” Eddie says, when you look back at him he smiles and brushes a few strands of hair away from your face. “Do you want to go back to mine?” He asks, it's like he read your mind. You nod in response and Eddie chuckles. “Let's get out of here.”

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lady-lostmind · 2 months

Text

Sleep

for Stobin Month prompt: Safe

Thank you @oh-stars for betaing this!

WC: 676 | Rating: T

ao3 link

Robin hovers on the porch of Steve’s massive house. She’s never been here before. Was never cool enough to be invited to one of King Steve’s blowout parties when he was still in school. And the whole friends thing is…new. Well, at least in the sense of being friends outside of work. They’ve had the same shifts all summer, and were definitely getting close before the whole end of the world as we know it bit, but they weren’t, yet. And then there was Russians, and torture, and drugs, and bathroom confessions, and blobby meat monsters, and then Steve had shoved his phone number and address into her hand and insisted she come by whenever. That he knows it’s hard to be thrown into all of…whatever the fuck. And now she’s here. At two in the morning, on Steve Harrington’s porch because the quiet at her house was too fucking quiet.

She takes a deep breath and knocks, hoping to all shit that Steve was serious about the whenever part of his offer. Robin shuffles her feet, tugging her bag higher on her shoulder, and is just starting to regret her decision to come here when a light turns on and Steve rips the door open, hair sticking up in every direction, a pair of pajama pants hanging low on his hips and a nail bat in his hand that he drops to his side immediately when he sees who’s at his door in the middle of the night.

Robin’s eyes drop to the weapon and then flit back up to Steve. “Gonna put me out of my misery?”

Steve’s face drops and he shakes his head, leaning the bat off to the side and stepping back to let her in. Robin steps into the spacious foyer and picks at her nails, not sure what she even expected out of coming here. Steve shuts the door behind her and then they’re just…standing there. Staring at each other. And actually, maybe letting the nightmares get her is better than this because fuck if this isn’t awkward and–

Steve sighs and tugs her forward, wrapping his arms around her. “I’m so glad you came over. I haven’t slept in like four days.”

Robin sags with relief, letting Steve hold her up and tucking her face in against his chest. “Me either.”

Steve chuckles. “Why didn’t you come over sooner?”

Robin shrugs. “Wasn’t sure I really should. Why didn’t you call?”

Steve sighs. “I was trying to give you space to process all the crazy shit, I guess. It’s uh– a lot. The first time.”

She pulls back, eyes wide and heart slamming into her throat. “But this was it, right? Like, no more crazy shit. It’s over, right?”

Steve’s mouth flattens into a tight line and he sucks in a deep breath. “I hope so.” He rubs his hand on her shoulder and nudges her in the direction of the stairs. “Come on. Let's try to get some sleep.”

Robin trudges up the stairs, her limbs feeling heavy as she lets Steve guide her down the hall and into what is quite possibly the ugliest bedroom she’s ever seen in her life.

She lets out a snort, opening her mouth to comment on the over abundance of plaid when Steve’s hand covers half her face.

“Don’t. It’s bad. I know. I’m too tired to defend my fourteen year old self right now.”

Robin rolls her eyes but nods, dropping her bag on the floor and toeing out of her shoes, watches as Steve climbs in the bed and gets situated before holding up the blanket for her to climb in after him. She doesn’t let herself think too long about how this is objectively weird. Just climbs in and sinks into Steve’s ridiculously comfortable mattress with a sigh, eyes already drooping closed. Steve tugs her arm, getting her to scooch closer, her head ending up on his chest, legs tangling together, and for the first time since the world almost ended, she drifts off to sleep feeling safe.

Stobin month prompt list by @lavenderstobins

#stobin month 2024 #stobinmonth #stobin #day 5 #platonic soulmates stobin #stranger things #robin buckley #steve harrington #steve & robin

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strangermarvelss · 1 year

Text

kill bill- e.m

Pairing: Ex!Eddie Munson x Ex!Female!Reader

Summary: i might kill my ex, i still love him though. inspired by sza’s kill bill

Warnings: angst to the max, break-up, sad reader, cursing, drug use, chrissy is kinda made out to be a bad guy (oh well), hints at something towards the end

Request?: No

Word Count: 4k

A/N: sza’s new album slayed and this song is a banger i’m now obsessed with, so let me deliver some angst inspired by this new obsession. hope you enjoy! -sava

thank you to my sweet @myobmaya for beta reading <3

part two

Happiness used to be a feeling you knew all too well, it used to come to you easily. The simplest things in life could brighten your day and allow you to exude rainbows and sunshine, even if there were thunderclouds booming in the distance. The crazy thing called young love can have that effect on people, making them unable to see anything but the light their partner brings to their life.

Pure envy corses through your bloodstream as you sit across the cafeteria, watching your ex wrap an arm around the “queen bee” of Hawkins High, Chrissy Cunningham. You weren’t sure where the hurt ended and the anger started, perhaps mixing together somewhere along the way within the past three weeks. The breakup was sudden, completely out of no where…at least that’s how it felt for you. But seeing Eddie Munson cozy up to Chrissy Cunningham after school ended last Wednesday was even more sudden and off putting than when he broke things off.

To say it hurt was an understatement. You spent a majority of your high school career watching him from a far, keeping your crush under wraps to save yourself the heartache of being rejected by him. You didn’t expect him to walk up to you one day before school with a singular rose in his hand, asking you out on a date the following Saturday night halfway through your junior year. Who would’ve thought it would even come to that, much less a not-so mutual break-up and a quick rebound that left you more broken than the thought of a simple rejection.

You will yourself to turn away from the couple, directing your attention to the sad tray of cafeteria food in front of you, pushing around your peas with your fork as you rest your head in your hand, trying your best to mask the mix of emotions swirling around inside you. Your best friend, Robin, sits across from you, taking in your sad figure as she pauses her conversation with one of her band mates. Looking up, she sees that your table is in direct eyesight of the Hellfire table you called a former home. She watched as Eddie laughed at something Chrissy said, before leaning closer to her ear and making her giggle into his figure.

“Fuckin’ asshole,” Robin mutters out, ripping her eyes away from your ex and landing back on you. “Y/N, please don’t let them get to you.”

“Kinda hard not to Robin. I mean, just look at how touchy they are,” you say, whipping your head back to look at them for a moment, before turning your head to give Robin a knowing look. “I mean, he was never that affectionate with me in public. So it’s like watching a car crash, you can’t tear your eyes away.”

“Screw them. Maybe he’s just doing this to make you jealous,” she suggests, making you scoff.

“Jealous for what? He made it clear that he doesn’t want to be with me anymore, did not sugarcoat things when he broke it off. It’s like…like he never even cared about me to begin with,” you tell her, a frown twisting onto your lips.

She reaches across the table to hold your hand, a frown working its way onto her lips as well. The words cut her deep, wanting nothing more than to go across the room and give Eddie a piece of her mind in front of everyone, just so she could show everyone how much of a shitty person the metalhead truly was. But that wasn’t Robin’s style. Instead, she stayed by her best friend, holding her and trying to comfort her the best way she could.

“Y/N, that’s not true, please don’t say that. Eddie loved you so much, he always made that known whenever we would all hang out. Even when you weren’t there, he couldn’t stop talking about you in all the best ways,” she reassures you.

Looking back at the new couple once more, you see Eddie planting a soft kiss to Chrissy’s lips, smiling as he pulls away from her and watching how soft his eyes are while he looks to her. The same way he used to look at you.

“Given everything that’s happened,” you start, turning back to her. “I have a hard time believing any of that.”

Grabbing your tray, you stand from your place at the table. Robin’s quick to grab one of your arms, pulling you back as you turn back to your best friend once more, a look of concern meeting your gaze. You know she’s just trying to help you feel better, and you appreciate that. But somehow, it’s just doing more harm than good right now.

“Where are you going? Lunch isn’t over for another 15 minutes?” She questions, finally removing her hands from your arm. You sigh, looking to your tray still full of food as you think of an excuse before looking up to her.

“I’m just going to go study for a bit in the library. Don’t feel like being in here anymore. Is it still cool if Steve drives me home today before your shifts? If not, I can take the bus,” you ask. She nods, waving you off like it was no big deal.

“Of course! I’ll see if he can just make a habit to take you to and from school for the next couple months, no big deal.”

You flash her a tight lipped smile, you silently thank her by tipping your head, then proceeding to walk towards the row of trash cans and dumping your lunch in one of the big bins, thankful you chose the other set of cans instead of the ones the Hellfire Club chose to sit near each day. Ducking out of the cafeteria, you pop in to the closest bathroom, standing over the sink as you look yourself in the mirror.

Tears you’ve kept from forming quickly gather along your lash line, brimming and bubbling over the edge and blurring your eyesight, making your reflection unclear, like a bunch of blobs just sitting there in a rectangle.

You wished you had a proper explanation. What made him realize he no longer wanted to be with you anymore? Obviously he didn’t love you anymore, otherwise he wouldn’t have moved on so quickly. No effort into hiding it to spare your feelings, just walking into school with an arm around Chrissy’s shoulder, fingers laced together as they both laughed at something one of them said. It made you physically sick to your stomach.

But the more important question you had was why did he choose her? The two of them had nothing in common. She was in with the popular crowd, jocks, preps, and other elite members of Hawkins High planted at her side while Eddie hung out with the other outcasts, leading his group to victory as they played Dungeons and Dragons together every Friday night. Hell, her ex-boyfriend tortured Eddie for years while she sat back and let it happen, shaking her pom-poms and turning her cheek to the excruciating bullying he endured. It made absolutely no sense to you, yet, still upset you beyond belief.

There was no denying that Chrissy was a pretty girl, that much you could see. She had her whole life ahead of her, with high ambitions, which reminded you of Eddie. He wanted to escape this town, though. Tour around the country, and even the world, with his band, Corroded Coffin. Yet you pictured Chrissy staying back, playing housewife while she took care of her gaggle of children you just knew she’d end up having. The picture perfect suburban family was in the cards for her. It was for everyone who peaked in high school in the state of Indiana.

You’re pulled from your pity party with the sound of the bathroom door opening, turning away sniffling as you wipe away the few tears you allowed to fall from you wet cheeks. The sound of water running fills your ears, turning your head slightly as the curiosity of who it could be eats away at you. Rolling your eyes, you sigh as you see none other than Chrissy standing in front of the sink you were at, fixing her hair before looking over your way.

“Are you okay?” She asks, taking a timid step towards you. You step back, chuckling to yourself at the audacity she had.

“Obviously not,” you curtly reply, flashing her a deadpan look.

“Okay, look. I just wanted to say I’m really sorry about…everything. I just hope there aren’t any hard feelings between us,” she reveals, her high pitched voice sounding like nails on a chalkboard to you. You visibly scoff, jaw hanging open in shock. To think she had the audacity before.

“Are you fucking serious right now?” You question, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

She nods, looking to her feet for a moment. “Yeah, I am. You just, seem really nice, and I’d hate for things to be rocky between-“

“Yeah, well, I don’t think I want to be on good terms with the girl that stole my boyfriend right out from under my feet,” you cut her off, stalking closer to her. You can see by how her eyes widen that she’s genuinely scared, trembling a little with the more space you close between you. You know you won’t hurt her, but you can’t deny the pride it brings you to see her like this, all things considered. “Don’t try and be my friend, Chrissy. It’s the last thing I want. Do you know how painful it is to watch the two of you walking about together, as if Eddie didn’t rip my fucking heart out and stomp on it in front of me? Do you really expect me want to try and be on good terms with you when I don’t have an ounce of love or a friendly bone left in my body?”

“I-I,” she stutters.

“Stay the fuck away from me, Chrissy. I mean it.”

Sliding past her, you rip open the bathroom door and make your way down the hall, anger now being the most persistent emotion radiating off and throughout your body. Interrupting you in your time of weakness was one thing, but wanting to try and be civil after everything that has gone down? She might be more delusional than you previously thought.

Just as you’re about to walk through the doors of the library, the bell springs to life, alerting the students that the lunch period has drawn to an end and they all need to report to their next class of the day. With a sigh, you turn on your heel and make your way over to your locker. You had a feeling the rest of the school day wasn’t going to treat you as well as you’d like.

—————————————————————————————————————

Eddie was livid.

Chrissy spilled the beans about your encounter in the bathroom, bending the truth a little to seem more like a victim as she ran to her boyfriend for help. This upset Eddie beyond belief, seeing how terrified his new girlfriend was thanks to his ex. He wasn’t sure why she had to take her feelings out on Chrissy, but he was going to set things straight.

Kissing Chrissy goodbye, he stomps towards the drama room, throwing the doors open and making a dramatic entrance, which wasn’t uncommon for the metalhead. The entire group looks up, stopping all conversations before greeting their Dungeon Master. He walks over to his throne, noticing that the chair Y/N usually found herself sitting in during meetings was empty for the third consecutive week. Scoffing, he shakes his head.

“Guess she’s sent her message loud a clear,” Eddie says aloud, nodding over to the empty shirt.

“I mean, can you really blame her?” Dustin mumbles out, making Eddie’s head whip around so fast it’s surprising he doesn’t have whiplash.

“Something you want to share with the group, Henderson?” Eddie questions, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he quirks a brow at the young freshman. Dustin visibly swallows, beads up sweat gathering on his forehead under his hat as he tries to think of how to brooch the subject without offending his friend.

“It’s just-I see how she is sometimes at school. She looks sad all the time, and being around her ex who already moved on wouldn’t help things,” he tells him. Eddie nods, anger still radiating of his body. “Not to mention, you guys are always on each other at school.”

“So that gives Y/N the right to be mean to my girlfriend, Henderson? Because she’s all sad and jealous?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying. I’m just saying I understand why she isn’t hanging around anymore. I think we all understand and maybe…sympathize with her.”

Eddie takes a moment, looking around the room to the other members of his beloved club. Nodding heads meet his gaze, watching even the members of his band agree with the freshman boy. Eddie huffs, fuel added to the already existing fire.

“Well, if you all feel this way, maybe we should cut this meeting short and come back after a little time away,” Eddie announces over-dramatically.

“C’mon man, don’t be like that,” Gareth pipes up.

“No, I will. I’m going to go over to Y/N’s house and give her a piece of my mind. Just because she didn’t get her way, doesn’t mean she needs to take it out on Chrissy. She’s very important to me and I need her to get that through her thick skull,” Eddie explains.

“Don’t you think you’re being too harsh on Y/N? I mean, you were the one to break things off. How would you feel if the roles were reversed, huh? If she was the one who began dating again, right after she broke up with you?” Gareth questions, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Shitty, yes. But I wouldn’t take my shit out on other people, much less whoever she decides to date after me,” Eddie answers, tossing papers into his backpack. He’s glad the game didn’t start yet, not having much to clean up as he slings his bag over his shoulder. Gripping his lunchbox, he made a quick exit from the drama room, rushing towards his van.

“Sure as hell doesn’t seem like it,” Gareth mutters out, letting out a sigh and shaking his head.

The drive over to your house was quicker than anticipated, Eddie’s foot heavy on the gas pedal as he ran over a quick script of what he wanted to say to you. He wanted to make sure he was being clear tonight, addressing your behavior towards his new girlfriend and bringing up the topic of maturity. You were both seniors, so it's time you started acting like one, he thought.

Pulling in your driveway, he makes a hasty exit of his van, slamming the door shut and running up your driveway. Knocking on the door persistently, he steps back and waits, swinging his weight from the heels of his feet to his tip toes, chest still bubbling with rage. He’s shocked to be greeted by your mother as she begins opening the door, a wide smile stretching onto her face.

“Eddie! What a lovely surprise! We’ve missed you over the last couple weeks, we almost thought something happened between you and Y/N,” She greets, pulling him in for a hug.

You never told her.

You never told you parents that Eddie broke up with you. It wasn’t something that Eddie considered when everything went down, not bothering to worry about the timeline of anything really. Yet it still comes as a shock to him that you haven’t broken the news to them, making him wonder how many other people in your life were unaware. Word travels fast around Hawkins, and having their daughter dating the town freak was always subject to the gossip mill.

Some sick and twisted part of his brain wanted to break the news on your behalf, letting your mother know and making her aware of the situation. But he also did still have some kind of heart, even if you didn’t particularly think so ever since the breakup. He flashes her a smile, looking to his shoes for a moment as he thinks of what to say for a moment.

“Yeah, sorry. Just been pretty busy these last few weeks. But, um, Y/N didn’t come to Hellfire today, so I was just wondering if I could see her? See if she’s okay and all?” He asks, putting on his best performance for the woman in front of him.

“Oh that’s right! It is Friday, isn’t it? Well, she seemed fine before asking to take the car. I just assumed she was on her way to hang out with you at your little club meeting,” she replies sweetly.

“So she’s not here?” Eddie asks, digging his hands into his pocket. Your mother shakes her head no, which prompts Eddie to nod.

“I’m afraid not. But she should be here around the afternoon tomorrow. Her father and I leave for a trip in the morning and she tends to stay put when she’s at the house alone,” she explains.

Bidding her a farewell, Eddie rushes back to his van and sits in the drivers seat, pondering to himself. Robin was at the basketball game Chrissy was currently cheering at, which meant Steve was closing Family Video tonight, so you couldn’t have been with either of them. You only went to Benny’s on Sundays, so that’s also out of the question. So where the hell could you be on a Friday night? Had things changed so much that you got into the habit of picking up a new hobby or activity within the last three weeks? Surely not, but it isn’t like he would know.

Turning the engine on, he pulls out of your driveway, turning back towards the school to go get Chrissy. Maybe he’d have a better chance trying to talk with you tomorrow.

—————————————————————————————————————

Shutting the car door, you walk along the path until you’re planted right in front of the door you need to be at. The sound of small waves splashing about in Lover’s Lake comforts you slightly, shaking out your nerves and rapping your knuckles against the door. You weren’t even sure if he was here, but it was worth a shot. Worst case scenario is that nothing happens, and you turn around and leave, simple as that. The door opens to find just who you’re looking for, a brief small making its way onto your face as you give a timid wave.

“Y/N! How are you? Definitely wasn’t expecting your pretty self to turn up here. Especially on a Friday night,” Rick Lipton, better known as Reefer Rick, tells you.

“Hey Rick, how are you? Glad to see you’re out of jail,” you tease, chuckling a little under your breath. He lets out a hearty laugh, clutching his stomach.

“Hey, I am too,” he says. He takes a moment, furrowing his brows. Stepping closer towards you, he looks around the area for a moment before looking back at you. “Where’s Eddie? That man never lets you come here without him being here to keep guard.”

“Uh…Eddie and I actually broke up a couple weeks ago. Which is why I’m here.”

“Oh really? I'm sorry to hear that. What’s up?”

“Do you have any edibles? Usually I’d go to Eddie for this kind of stuff, but you see why I can’t.”

“Yeah! Come on in, make yourself comfortable. ’S not like you haven’t been here before.”

Walking through the door, you slide yourself onto one of the couches in the living room, trying your best to relax. Rick was right, you’ve never been here without Eddie right there by your side the entire time, as if protecting you from the older man. He was nearly 30, so it wasn’t like he was alarmingly older than you, but Eddie still kept an arm around you at all times in the presence of Rick, and making sure if he did leave your side, it wasn’t for too long.

It doesn’t take long for Rick to return into the living room, holding up a small baggie with six small gummies inside. He slides next to you on the couch, leaving a small gap between your bodies as he turns to look at you.

“What’s the price?” You ask.

“How about we say $20? Give you a sympathy discount since you and my boy Eddie broke it off,” he answers, sending you a smile. Nodding, you reach for your wallet and pull out a twenty, handing it over to him just as he places the baggie in your hand.

“Thank you Rick, really. Do you mind if I stay a bit and do this here? Parents don’t leave for vacation tomorrow and I just…really need this after the day I’ve had,” you ask.

��Yeah, go for it, I’ll do some too,” he tells you. Nodding again, you open the small bag and take one of the gummies between your index finger and thumb, rolling it around for a second before popping it into your mouth. “So how bad was your day for you to need to give little ol’ me a visit?”

Sighing, you slump backwards and let your body relax into the couch cushions, softening your shoulders and plant yourself in place. “Just some shit went down between me and Eddie’s new girl. She was trying to be all cute and friendly with me after practically stealing my boyfriend right from under my feet, so I set her straight.”

“He dump you for this girl?”

“Yep. Fuckin’ asshole,” you reply.

The two of you sit there for a moment without speaking to one another, the soft whirring of the box fan by the door being the only sound filling the room. Your arms begin to relax more, a tickling sensation slowly traveling up your spine and beginning to nest in your head. After a few more minutes of neither of you exchanging any words, you feel the high settle in firmly, a small smile creeping on your face as you begin shaking your head.

“I hate him.”

“What?” Rick asks, turning to you with a low chuckle.

“Eddie. I fucking hate him for what he did to me. Breaking my heart and walking over top of it every time he walks through the front doors of our school with his new piece on his side. I could fuckin’ kill him,” you let out, laughing to yourself. “But the sad part is…I still love him. More than he could ever love me it seems.”

“It sounds like you need to get back at him,” Rick suggests, twirling around the bag from his pocket and opening it up once again. You turn to him, lifting your brow slightly as you watch him pop another edible in his mouth.

“And how do you suggest I do that?” You question.

“Oh I have an idea,” he lets out, turning to you. You notice a small smirk on his face, his glossy squinted eyes looking at you deeply. “But first I have to ask: you’re 18, right?”

“Yeah, just turned 18 not too long ago.”

“Even better. Okay, so here’s what I’m thinking-“

948 notes · View notes

random-sparks-98 · 6 months

Text

Divorced. Beheaded. Died. Divorced. Beheaded. Survived. Tonight, Gotham, We Are LIVE! (3905 words) by Sparky441 Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Batman - All Media Types Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Characters: Dick Grayson, Barbara Gordon, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Stephanie Brown, Cassandra Cain, Duke Thomas, Damian Wayne, Harleen Quinzel, Pamela Isley, Edward Nygma, Jonathan Crane, Oswald Cobblepot, Harvey Dent, Selina Kyle, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth Additional Tags: Chaotic Batfamily (DCU), Tired Parent Bruce Wayne, Crazy Gotham City, Inspired by Six the musical, Crack Treated Seriously, Life in Gotham City (DCU), Gotham City Rogues, It's Halloween Folks, Dick and Harley are on the same wavelength, Chaotic Harleen Quinzel, Chaotic Dick Grayson, Jason Todd Being a Little Shit, bat kids being little shits, Dick Grayson Being a Little Shit, Stephanie Brown Being a Little Shit, Tim Drake Being a Little Shit, Duke Thomas is a Batfamily Member, Duke Thomas Being a Little Shit, Damian Wayne is a Little Shit, Cassandra Cain Being a Little Shit, BAMF Barbara Gordon, chaotic selina kyle, I'd love to say, no beta we die like robins, but there was actually some beta so-, some beta we come back like robins

Summary: Dick bursts into the room. “I’ve just had the Greatest Idea for a group costume this year!!!”

Jason glances over from where he’s holding Damian’s katana out of reach. “Will it fuck with Bruce?”

Dick grins widely. “Of course!”

The assembled bat kids all share a maniacal grin. ”Say no more. We’re in.”

–🦇–

Meanwhile, across Gotham:

Harley bursts into the room. “I’ve just had the Greatest Idea for a group costume this year!!!”

Ivy looks up from the plant she was tending to. “Will it fuck with the bat?”

Harley grins widely. “Of course!”

The assembled rouges all share a maniacal grin. “Say no more. We’re in.”

–🦇–

Meanwhile, in the Batcave:

Bruce shudders as a sudden chill runs down his spine. He brushes it off and turns back to the case file he’s working on. It must be the normal coldness of the cave.

Surely not something else.

Summary:

Dick bursts into the room.

“I’ve just had the Greatest Idea for a group costume this year!!!”

Jason glances over from where he’s holding Damian’s katana out of reach. “Will it fuck with Bruce?”

Dick grins widely. “Of course!”

The assembled bat kids all share a maniacal grin. ”Say no more. We’re in.”

–🦇–

Meanwhile, across Gotham:

Harley bursts into the room.

“I’ve just had the Greatest Idea for a group costume this year!!!”

Ivy looks up from the plant she was tending to. “Will it fuck with the bat?”

Harley grins widely. “Of course!”

The assembled rouges all share a maniacal grin. “Say no more. We’re in.”

–🦇–

Meanwhile, in the Batcave.

Bruce shudders as a sudden chill runs down his spine. He brushes it off and turns back to the case file he’s working on. It must be the normal coldness of the cave.

Surely not something else.

56 notes · View notes

thetriumphantpanda · 9 months

Text

Stolen | Marcus Pike (Day Four)

Series Summary | A week on from the biggest museum theft in history, you find yourself shipped to D.C. to track down the most important British archaeological artefacts, stolen from right under your nose. You didn’t plan on Special Agent Marcus Pike getting under your skin in the process. Special Agent Marcus Pike didn’t plan on falling for you either.

Chapter Summary | A rare free day for you and Marcus brings the opportunity for him to show you his city. Also gives him the chance to shamelessly flirt with you, kiss you in front of some art and an evening alone in your hotel room.

Pairing | Marcus Pike x Archaeologist/Curator F!Reader

Word Count | 4k

Warnings | Marcus and reader shamelessly flirting with each other as always, mentions of food, alcohol consumption, the assumption that a baby Guinness is the best shot in the world, description of healed but violent injuries, oral sex (f) receiving, overstimulation (Marcus Pike is a pleasure dom and you cannot convince me otherwise), fingering, squirting, some angst thrown in for good measure and I think that's it.

Authors Note | Sorry this took so long to get out to you! I am still in my brain rot era for these two - Jones and Marcus literally own my life. I hope you enjoy the little sneak peak of some of Jones' back story here - more will be revealed as we carry on the story. Also, another huge shoutout as always to my girl Doni @morning-star-joy for betaing this and just always being there to freak out about these two with me - ily girl and thank you! If you enjoy this, please consider reblogging, commenting or popping into my ask to give me some love! And if you'd like to consider tipping me, my Ko-Fi is here (But of course, no pressure!)

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Stolen Playlist

It’s your phone’s ringtone that rouses you from sleep the next morning. You’re groggy, having spent at least two hours replaying in your mind how it had felt to kiss Marcus before you’d finally fallen asleep, only to be met by him in your dreams where he did so much more than just kiss you.

You let the phone ring out, rolling onto your back to rub at your eyes. The clock on the bedside table shows the time as 8:07am, far too early for what should be a day off. You’d anticipated emails but not calls, having sent a round robin email to advise until the FBI had established new leads, there would be no need for your usual check in call.

But then your phone rings again. You groan, all you wanted was a few more hours of sleep. You’re reaching for your phone and answering it, voice still gruff with sleep, “What?!”

“Good morning to you too.” Comes that familiar drawl with a chuckle added in for good measure. Marcus.

“Oh shit, sorry!” You sit bolt upright in bed, “Has something happened?”

“No,” He says plainly, “Did I wake you up?”

“It is just past eight in the morning on a weekend, so yes, you did.”

“Great!” He exclaims, how is he so chipper this early? “It’s the weekend, you’re in a new city, so we’re going out.”

“Wait a minute,” Your brain is finally catching up with what’s happening, “Don’t you have my artefacts to find?”

He chuckles down the phone, “That’s what I’ve got Steven for, he’s chasing leads right now, means I’m free to show you the city.”

You can’t help the smirk that appears on your lips, “Take me for those pancakes and you’re on.”

Not even an hour later, you’re sat across from Marcus, plates full of pancakes and mugs full of steaming coffee.

“Okay, these are just as good in the morning as they are at night,” You speak after your first mouthful, “But the coffee is still shit.”

Marcus barks a laugh, eyes dropping to the mug in his hands as he takes a dramatic slurp, “It’s perfectly fine coffee,” He smiles, “You’ve just got to think of this as part of the experience.”

“Spoken like a man who has never tried real Arabic coffee,” You wink, sipping on what is decidedly not Arabic coffee, “So, where are you taking me today?”

Marcus finishes the bite he’s chewing, picking up his own mug again, “Well, you can’t come to D.C. and not visit the Lincoln Memorial and the Capitol, so we’re going to start there, and then if you’re lucky, I can wow you with my vast artistic knowledge at the National Gallery.”

“Wow,” You chuckle, taking a last bite of pancake before resigning yourself to defeat again, “Big day.”

“Might have made dinner reservations too, but you’ll have to wait and see about those.”

“Reservations, again?” You tease, “I’m a lucky girl.”

“I like to make a fuss,” He smiles, motioning for the waitress to bring the bill, “Now, finish your shit coffee and let’s go.”

You must admit that if there’s one thing about Marcus Pike that you’ve noticed, it’s that he knows how to date. So far, he’d ferried you to the Lincoln Memorial and the Capitol as promised, given you his own little tour, given you all the little nuggets of history you need to know, and kept a firm hold of your hand as he did it. He’d bought you ice cream, pistachio, after an argument over which flavour was the best, which you clearly won, and then had wrapped an arm around your shoulders and stolen bites from the plastic spoon as you walked to the National Gallery.

He'd walked you round, showing you some of his favourite pieces of art – even if art itself was boring as all hell to you, his enthusiasm helped, the way his eyes would light up when he’d walk into a gallery and find another piece to show you.

You’re currently looking at a Da Vinci. The small plaque on the wall underneath says it’s a painting of Ginerva de Benci, whoever that is, and despite being created by a master, it does nothing for you. You find yourself tilting your head to try and understand why everyone loses their minds over this kind of stuff.

“You can admit you hate it,” Marcus chuckles at your side, hand squeezing yours which has been firmly grasped since you entered, “It’s not for everyone.”

“It’s not that I hate it,” You shrug, “I just don’t get it,” You point with your free hand to the painting, “She’s looks really annoyed.”

Marcus laughs, “Probably because she was sixteen and about to married off to god knows who,” He presses a kiss to your temple, “If you’re bored, I can take you somewhere else?”

You shake your head, “Oh, I’m not bored,” You try and defend yourself, but when you meet his eyes, you know he’s got the perfect read on you, “Okay, yeah I’m bored, can we go and get cocktails?”

“We can go and get cocktails,” He agrees, “But first….”

His words trail off as he takes a step forward, leaving the tiniest bit of space between the two of you. He brings his palms up to cup your face and then he’s kissing you. His lips just as perfect as they had been last night. You open your mouth to him, tilting your head a little so you can finally slip your tongue into his mouth, your hands gripping at the material of his jacket. You’re not even sure how long you stand there for, drinking each other down, but soon enough some unsuspecting tourist is clearing her throat behind you, motioning for you to move so she can see the very famous painting you were just making out in front of.

You feel a blush creep onto your cheeks as Marcus pulls away from you, glint in his eyes.

“You’re trouble, Marcus Pike.” You breathe, taking hold of his wrist to drag him away from the painting.

“So are you,” He comments, “Now let’s go find you a cocktail.”

Find you a cocktail he did. You’d sipped negroni’s together on some rooftop bar until Marcus had to drag you to dinner where you were sat now. It was an affair much less fancy than the Italian restaurant – Marcus opting to show you his favourite burger joint instead. The waiter had just placed your food in front of you – yours a mountain of sweet potato fries and a bacon cheeseburger that was literally bigger than your head. Marcus’ was of a similar size, full of fried chicken and a similarly large pile of French fries.

With the alcohol coursing through your veins, you couldn’t care less about trying to look attractive as you pick up the burger and take a bite, juice spilling down the sides of your face which you try and quickly mop with a napkin. You take another bite before you set it down, picking up the bottle of beer you’d ordered.

When you look across the table, you notice Marcus hasn’t touched his food, instead, he’s got his eyes trained directly on you, “Everything okay?” You ask, tipping the lip of the bottle to your mouth to swig.

“Fine, actually,” He comments, “Just never been quite so attracted to someone with burger juice on their face.” He leans across the table, wiping away the liquid you’d missed at the corner of your mouth with the pad of his thumb.

“Stop fondling me and eat your food.” You chuckle, picking at one of your fries.

“Yes, ma’am.” He winks, picking up his own burger to take a bite, ending up with sauce over his face just like you did.

You can play him at his own game. You reach your own thumb across the table, wiping at the red sauce at the corner of his mouth before you bring your thumb back to your mouth, sucking the sauce right off it with your eyes continuously looking right into his.

“Sauce is good,” You shrug with a smirk, “Any news from Steven?”

“Not since I last checked my phone,” He shrugs, taking another bite of his burger, “I promise you’ll be the first to know if I do.”

You nod, biting into one of your fries, eyes roaming around the restaurant to settle on a board listing all the different kinds of shots they served behind the bar.

“Hey Marcus,” You ask, absentmindedly, “You ever had a baby Guinness?”

“A what?” He asks.

“A baby Guinness?” You implore, “You know, the shot?”

“I can confidently say, I have never had a baby Guinness.”

A devious smirk falls across your face as you pick up another fry, “Finish your food and I will introduce you to the best alcoholic drink known to man.”

If there’s another thing you like about Marcus, as well as his ability to kiss like his life depended on it and take you on the best dates you’d ever been on, it was his obedience. Outside of his job, you had this man wrapped around your finger and you knew it. The way he settles in to finish his food, quietly sipping his beer as you do the same, means you’re both done in no time, and when the waitress clears your empty plates, you ask her to bring four shots of baby Guinness.

“Four?” Marcus raises his eyebrow.

“They’re on a deal,” You shrug, finishing the last of your beer, “And trust me when I say, you’ll want more than one.”

She’s back with your requested drinks in no time.

“Well, no shit, they actually look like a baby Guinness.”

You pick one up, waiting for him to do the same, then you clink your shot glasses together and drink the shots down in one. There’s the sweet milk of the Bailey’s and then the bitter taste of the coffee liqueur, but they’re still as good as you’d always remembered.

“Good, right?” You smirk as Marcus smacks his lips to really get the taste.

“I have to hand it to you Jones, they are pretty delicious.”

“Do the other one.” You challenge, picking up your own second shot.

“You’re a terrible influence,” He chuckles, but indulges you all the same, slamming the drink back, “Okay, enough shots though, anymore and you’ll have to carry me home.”

“Of all the things, Marcus Pike, I didn’t have you penned as a lightweight.”

“You forget you’re British so just by being born you can hold your drink better than I can.”

You giggle as you get the waitress’ attention and ask her to bring you the bill, getting the company card out before Marcus can argue with you that this should be his treat. You’d indulged him enough to buy breakfast, this one was on you. Or the museum.

Once you’ve paid, you stand, realizing that perhaps the second shot was a bad idea, there’s the tell-tale tipsiness settling in you. Not drunk by any means, but perhaps tipsy enough to make dangerous decisions.

Marcus hails you a cab, considering you’re on the completely other side of town to your hotel. He has his fingers entwined with yours the whole ride home, his thumb rubbing circles across the back of your hand, stolen glances at each other and then smirks when one of you catches the other looking.

Just like he’d done before, Marcus walks with you through the lobby and into the elevator. You slump against the back wall, leaning into his shoulder. You tilt your head up to him and he almost makes it down to kiss you, but then the doors are opening onto your floor. Foiled by the elevator yet again.

“Marcus Pike,” You giggle, leaning up against the wall by your door once you’ve made it that far to fish your keycard out of your bag, “I think you got me drunk.”

“That’s an outrageous accusation,” He’s also chuckling, seemingly in a similar state to you, “I think it was you that got me drunk.”

Your fingers find the plastic of the keycard, whipping it out of your bag with a grin, like you’d just found the holy grail, “Found it!”

“Of course you did,” He laughs, taking it from between your fingers to tap it to the reader and open your door, “You made a living finding things, I never had any doubt.”

He pushes open the door to your room but makes no effort to move inside and follow behind you when you take a step over the threshold, “You’re not coming in?” You ask, bag dropped to the floor.

He takes a deep breath in and sighs, “I’m not sure it’s the best idea,” He shrugs, “Taking my time with you, and all that.”

You reach out and grip his wrist, thankful that he’s had a few drinks and is also a little unsteady on his feet, so he falls into the room, door closing behind him, “Fuck taking it slow, Marcus,” You smirk, pulling him flush to your body, “I want you to make me feel good.”

You’re searching for his lips in seconds, hands wrapping around his neck to pull him closer to you. As soon as you connect, there’s the same feeling in your lower tummy that had been there when he’d kissed you in front of the art. Butterflies and nerves and that delicious swipe of his tongue across your bottom lip.

“You’re sure?” He asks, hands dipping underneath the hem of your dress to brush the skin of your thighs.

“Never been surer of anything in my life.” You breathe, latching your mouth to his once more as your hands roam down his clothed chest.

He’s kissing you as he pushes you backwards, the backs of your knees hitting the bed causing you to tumble back. You both giggle as Marcus collapses on top of you, pulled down by your hands on his shirt. Then he’s kissing you again, but only briefly until he tears his mouth from yours and shuffles you further up the bed so he can lie down, settling his face between your thighs.

“When was the last time anyone ate your pussy, Jones?” He growls, teeth biting gently at the soft skin of your thighs.

Your head is swimming, and it takes you a while to think. When was the last time? It doesn’t even really matter, but you answer as honestly as you can, “Years.”

He stops dead, looking up at you with those glassy brown eyes you enjoy so much, “You’re lying.”

You push yourself up onto your elbows, looking down at him with a grin, “I’m not,” you reply, “So you best make this good, remind me what I’ve been missing.”

It’s like the challenge you’ve issued him changes him completely. There’s a hunger in his eyes and he’s got your panties off and thrown to the floor in seconds. He doesn’t even bother to tease you, he pushes your thighs wider and licks a firm strip through your folds, tongue stopping to flick quickly across your clit before he’s doing the same thing again, this time dipping his tongue inside of you, tasting the slick that’s been gathering between your thighs all day for him.

“Taste so fucking good,” He murmurs before that tongue is back on your clit, this time running wet circles across your bundle of nerves that has you throwing your head back, calling his name into the relative silence of the room and arching up into him, chasing the pressure of his tongue when he pulls away from you again, “Knew you would, so fucking sweet.”

You’re almost embarrassed at how quickly Marcus manages to bring you over the edge that first time. He’s barely even started in earnest when your legs start shaking, his tongue focusing all its attention on quick, short flicks across your clit and soft suckles from his whole mouth that set you on fire.

“Marcus I-” Your hands go to grip his hair between your thighs, “Fucking hell, you’re gonna make me come.”

He pulls away just enough to chuckle, “That’s okay,” He smirks, “That’s what I want,” A shrug of his shoulders, “I’m gonna put my mouth back on you and you’re going to come for me, alright?”

You nod your head and let out a whine of approval as his mouth goes straight back to your slick pussy before it’s all over. His tongue flicks in just the right pattern over your clit that you’re arching into his face and crying out his name as that pleasure, the kind you’ve only given yourself these past few years, unfurls across your body. It’s almost entirely overwhelming for a moment, you think you might cry, but as soon as Marcus has finished working you through the aftershocks of your first orgasm, he’s hurtling right towards the next.

Your second orgasm comes soon after, which makes you suspect that it’s not your lack of sexual activity that’s making this so easy, but how good this man is between your thighs at giving pleasure to you. He eats at you like he was born to do it. His mouth knowing exactly the right patterns to draw, in exactly the right order to have you clamping your thighs around his head in minutes, his name like a monastic chant out of your mouth.

The third, even easier. Marcus’ mouth doesn’t even bother letting up after your second, he just wraps his lips around your clit and sucks, still using his tongue as an added sensation, before he’s sliding two of his thick fingers into your aching cunt and immediately curling them upwards.

“It’s too much-” You whine, hips trying to move away from his mouth, but his free hand keeps you anchored where you are, “I can’t Marcus.”

He pulls his mouth away, “You can, sweet girl,” He says, giving a teasing flick of his tongue to your clit, laughing when you jolt at the pressure, “I know you can do it, just for me.”

And he’s right, you can. Because you do. It makes your vision blur, spots appearing in your sight, you don’t even think his name is coherent out of your mouth anymore. Just a mixture of ragged moans and high-pitched whines.

Your chest is heaving, every nerve ending in your body is on fire, and you’re pretty sure the way Marcus’ name has become a chant on your lips is embarrassing, but it’s been years since a man touched you, even longer since one touched you like this and you don’t ever want him to stop, someone could offer you all the money in the world and you still choose Marcus and his mouth. That was number two, or was it number three? You’re pretty sure it was three, but you don’t even know anymore. Marcus pulls back from you just enough to give your clit some relief from his mouth, flipping you over so you’re laid on your tummy.

He runs his hands over your ass, stopping to squeeze just briefly, replacing his hand with his lips, which press kisses to the skin as his fingers drop lower, slipping into your slick pussy with ease. You’re almost ashamed of how quickly you push your hips back to meet the thrusts of his fingers inside of you, but when he opens his mouth to praise you, it’s all forgotten.

“Such a good girl for me, aren’t you?” You only moan in response, “Taking everything I give you; you wanted me to make you feel good, does it feel good Jones?”

“Marcus – fuck – you literally just made me come three times,” You’re speaking breathlessly, “Of course it feels fucking good.”

“Yeah, I know baby,” His voice is so sweet in your ear as his fingers are working in and out of your slick heat, “One more, one more just for me and then I’ll give you what you really want.”

You feel your pussy clench around those sweet fingers at his promise, the promise that he’ll shed his clothes and finally bury himself deep inside you. He curls them up in just the perfect way, hitting a spot inside you that you were only sure existed in myth. His mouth is still sucking and leaving marks across the skin of your ass and hips, wherever he can get them. Then, he’s shifting his position so he can snake his other hand underneath you, fingers gently rubbing your clit, soaked from the slick he’s managed to pull from you all evening.

“Come on baby,” He croons, “Can feel you getting all tight around these fingers,” He punctuates with a particularly hard thrust of his fingers, “Let go for me Jones, give me what I want.”

Who were you to deny him? Even though the movements of his fingers on your clit are gentle, it’s bordering on pain. You can feel yourself close to collapse, your knees shaking and struggling to keep you upright, but it’s the way your orgasm slams into you and has you literally soaking the bed that finally causes you to collapse on your front. Did he really just do that to you? Outwardly sweet and shy Marcus Pike? Did he really just make you fucking squirt?

You can’t think straight, you don’t think you could stand on your legs or tell anyone your own name. It’s entirely too much and you’re thankful that Marcus, the observant man that he is, knows you can’t give him anything else, at least not right now. He’s turned you over so you’re lying on your back, dress hitched up to your hips. He settles himself on his knees so he can shed his shirt and you can finally admire him properly. He’s broad, Jesus Christ, and his chest is covered in a spattering of hair and freckles, and you find yourself wanting to reach out and trace them with your tongue. Your eyes drop to where his hands are currently undoing his jeans, watching with hungry eyes as his hands push them down to reveal that trail of hair, dipping below the waistband of his underwear. Then his hands are on the hem of your dress and then he’s pulling it over your head. If you’d been a second quicker, you’d had realized what he was doing and be able to stop him, but it’s too late now, as his eyes settle on the reason you’re here in the first place.

“Fucking hell,” He exclaims, pulling back from you, “Is that a fucking gunshot wound?!”

You close your eyes and pray for your breathing to steady. This is the whole reason you don’t sleep with men, or anyone for that matter. That’s exactly what it is, you think, chest heaving, both from anxiety and the exertion he’s pulled from you. A horrible round scar, right below your left breast, and the other just below it, a long, thick, horrible scar that starts just underneath the bullet wound and finishes in the middle of your back, from where the first shot had missed.

“Marcus please,” You beg, not wanting to meet his eyes, “I can’t…” You trail off, “Not right now, I just want to be with you.”

“But it is, isn’t it?” He reaches out to trace your scars with his fingers, which makes you flinch.

You nod, grabbing hold of his wrist, “I can turn around,” You say softly, “If you don’t wanna look at them.”

He brings his hand to cup your face, “You did not just say that to me, sweet girl,” His own voice laced with emotion, “I don’t give a damn about looking at them, Jones, but you gotta talk to me.”

You’re about to open your mouth when his phone starts ringing in the pocket of his trousers somewhere on the floor. You can see the anger set into his jaw at being disturbed, he leaves it to ring long enough that you think he might just ignore it altogether, but then he thinks better of it, leaning over and fishing it from the floor.

“Pike.”

He’s still close enough to you that you can feel the warmth of his body seeping into your own, but more importantly, you can hear Steven on the other end of the phone.

“Boss, I’ve got an update.”

“Go on.” Marcus speaks, turning his face to you.

“I think we’ve found them.”

Marcus Pike Tag List: @morning-star-joy @tightjeansjavi @dinsdjrn @cupofjoel@sinsofsummers @cavillscurls @swiftispunk @theviolethourdeux@yvonneeeee @healmydesires @amanitacowboy @educated-zombie @patti7dc

#Marcus Pike #Marcus Pike smut #Marcus Pike fluff #Marcus Pike. agnst #Marcus Pike fic #Marcus Pike fanfic #Marcus Pike fanfiction #The Mentalist #The mentalist fic #Marcus Pike x you #Marcus Pike x reader #Marcus Pike x female reader #Marcus Pike x F!reader #Marcus Pike Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal

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panicallysatanicmanic · 2 months

Text

TITLE ; Everybody knows it, but you.

FANDOM ; Robin (Comics), Batman — All media types

RELATIONSHIP(S) ; Bernard Dowd/Tim Drake, Darla Aquista & Bernard Dowd & Tim Drake

CHARACTER(S) ; Bernard Dowd, Tim Drake, Darla Aquista

WORD COUNT ; 3.1 k

TAGS ; Movie night, Banter, Internalized Homophobia, kind of, Bernard comes out, Spoiler he and Tim aren't together here, Attempt at humor, Light angst, very light, Not Actually Unrequited Love, They're in love but they're too much of losers to realize it, not beta read we die like Darla Aquista, Bernard Dowd-centric

DESCRIPTION ; “Oww..” Tim groaned as Bernard caught up to him. Bernard put his hands on his knees as he stood over Tim.

“Looks like I've caught you, hero-boy. And now,” He paused for dramatic effect, “You must do my bidding.”

“Oh god, what kind of bidding..?”

Bernard grabbed Tim by his upper arms, before hoisting him back up to his feet. “You’re carrying most of the blankets.” He informed him, cheerfully.

“Oh, golly.“ Tim deadpanned.

____

or; Darla, Tim & Bernard have a movie night. Bernard has some realizations.

#bernard dowd #tim drake #tim drake robin #dc comics #dc #timbern #darla aquista #louis grieve trio #ao3 link #ao3 writer #my fic #bernard dowd x tim drake #dc fic #dc fic recs

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daydream-cement · 1 year

Text

Organs in the Wash Ch. 7

Miranda Hilmarson x Reader

Authors Note: Thank u v much to my beta baby @bri-sonat <3 This chapter is a little intense so please take care of yourself during and after reading <3 but if you wanna skip and come back for ch. 8 that's okay too :) I left part of some Deseret untranslated. I wonder if one of you can figure out the translation...

Warnings: Kidnapping, serial killers, blood, torture (cutting), and psychological abuse

Relinquishing his grip on your hair, the killer backed away, retreating back to a workbench. Now given the opportunity, you were able to glance around the room, taking in your surroundings. Concrete floors, walls lined with aged bricks, and the only light sources were a few dangling bulbs. Old metal shelves lined the walls, containing old paint buckets, tools, and miscellaneous housing fixtures that he had probably used to fix things in your apartment at one point or another. If you had to guess, you believed you were in the basement of your apartment building. But why would he choose to stay so close to where he had taken you from?

“You know... I always thought I was going to be a doctor. You can see by my handiwork that I have a steady hand. Maya was an interesting case... I bled her first. Hung her from the rafters above you and let it all run down the drain.” His tone was so casual, like he was describing his last trip to the grocery store. At the mention of Maya hanging from the rafters, you glance upwards and see a chain dangling overhead. The clinking of metal against the workbench draws your attention back down to him, “Washing the organs was the fun part for me. It really gave me an up close and personal look at each of them. After I called the police, I knew I had made a mistake by putting the organs in the wash.”

The effort to talk makes your entire body ache and your voice cracks as you speak, “...So you killed Abbey?”

He turns around to look at you, delighted you were willing to have a conversation with him, “Exactly. I disemboweled her. I’m keeping her organs nice and fresh in some ethanol on the shelves over there.” He then gestured to the metal shelf with the paint cans that you now realized were filled with human organs, not paint, “She struggled so much. It was so annoying. The police will be lucky if they get an ID on her with what I did to her. With some patience and experimenting, hydrofluoric acid isn’t that hard to make yourself... The internet really is wonderful.”

He crosses the room, approaching a different workbench. Well, you thought it was a workbench, but the straps hanging off of it told you it was where he planned to torture you. Tears welled in your eyes. You didn’t want to show your fear, but this was your nightmares come to life, “And why me?”

He paused what he was doing, only for a moment, to think. He resumed preparing the dissection table for you as he spoke, “At first... proximity. It was easy access, but in the end, it was for the challenge. I would have thought you had recognized my voice, but from the look on your face earlier, you really didn’t know it was me, did you?”

“No...”

“Of course, you didn’t... Girls are so stupid... You did surprise me with your ability to understand the Deseret Alphabet. I wasn’t particularly connected to the language, but every serial killer needs his thing, ya know?” He smiled fondly and gestured wildly with his hands, clearly passionate and remorseless in his killing, “You’re special. I’m going to let you choose the phrase I carve into you. Maybe we can write a sweet letter for your boyfriend to read when she finds your corpse.”

------

“Repeat those phrases from the letter back to me again.” Robin requested as she moved slowly about your apartment, checking every nook and cranny for anything unusual other officers may have missed.

Miranda pulled the notebook from her jacket, flipping through the pages to find the translation to the letter, “‘The answer is so near, yet you are blind to the possibilities. Many of these old buildings hold more secrets than you can even imagine.’ And it was also signed, ‘your neighbor.’”

Robin only hummed in response, her eyes trailing along the baseboards for anything that could indicate ‘secrets’ like hidden doors or passages that could have given the killer access to the apartment. Her eyes stopped when confronted with your bookcase and she called over to Miranda to help her, “Here, help me move this bookcase.”

Tucking the notebook back in her vest, Miranda took two long strides to grasp at the bookcase, pushing while Robin pulled. The blonde huffed as she heaved the bookcase out of the way, “Do you think there is a hidden door or something?”

“That’s what makes the most sense to me...” Robin shrugged, glancing around the bookcase to the exposed wall to find nothing out of the ordinary.

“Nothing... Robin... What am I going to do? I need to find her. I-” Miranda’s hands move up to her hair, ranking through the locks roughly as to take her aggression out somewhere. She began to pace across your apartment, her chest beginning to heave from the stress and panic that was setting in. The sound of Robin’s ringtone made both of the women stop in their tracks.

“Just-” Robin pulled the phone from her pocket and glanced down at Adrian’s contact glowing on her home screen. Before she took the call, she looked at Miranda intently, providing her with a couple comforting words, “We will find her. She will be back with you in no time...”

Answering the call, Robin placed it on speakerphone so she wouldn’t have to relay all of the information back to Miranda later on. Adrian spoke before either of the women could get a word out, “Get back down to the station. We caught him.”

Robin let out a light laugh, unable to believe Adrian could be talking about the serial killer they had been searching relentlessly for, “Caught who?”

“The killer. There is no reason for you to be in Ms. L/n’s apartment any longer.” Adrian’s voice was tainted with annoyance.

Miranda’s eyes widened and she snatched the phone from Robin’s hand, holding the speaker up to her mouth. The way her voice filled with hope made Robin’s heart ache, “Is Y/n there? Is she with you? Can I talk to her?”

“We haven’t tracked her down yet. We are interrogating him right now to get her location. He keeps feeding us this bullshit that he doesn’t know who we are talking about. We are checking his ‘so-called’ alibis, but we are sure they will fall through.” Miranda’s face immediately fell at Adrian’s response, a scowl returning to her features. Robin and Miranda exchanged a glance, hesitant to believe they had found the killer so easily. The women were so confident in their suspicions the killer was still in the building that they doubted the other detective’s abilities.

Robin took her phone back from Miranda with a roll of her eyes, “We are going to continue with our theories until you confirm or disprove his alibis.”

“Waste of time, Griffin. I want you both-”

“Yeah, we will finish up here and get down to the station when we are done.” Robin noticed the way Miranda’s face fell at the imminent order from their superior, so she opted for the path of disobedience. She cut off Adrian mid-sentence and hung up when she ended her sentence. The brunette smirked at her partner, “Let’s find a killer.”

-------

“Now... Don’t be causing any trouble. You are going to get on this dissection table without any fuss or I’ll really make you regret it, hmm?” He spoke to you like you were a toddler which was incredibly infuriating. If you were going to die anyway, wouldn’t an attempt at escaping be worth the try? On the other hand, if you were going to die, would trying to escape be worth the additional torture?

He pulls the dissection table to your side, a horrible scraping noise accompanying the action from the metal sliding against the concrete floors.

“After you, I think I’ll move on to Brisbane... They have the medical school there. I’m sure with all of my experience, I could really impress them with my talents. University of Queensland Mayne... I could be a surgeon.” He situated the table meticulously and moved to fetch a large overhead light he would no doubt use to accurately carve his letter to Miranda into you. His delusional mindset made your brow furrow, “Think of all of the good you will be doing by allowing me to practice on you. This is very altruistic of you.”

Monotone and dripping with sarcasm, you couldn’t help yourself, “Happy to help.”

Flicking on the light, he adjusted it over the table and you were then blinded by the LED bulbs, “I knew you would understand. Now, let’s get you all set up here so we can get started.”

He squatted in front of your chair, untying your legs and continuing his friendly chatter, “I could even continue my extra-curricular surgeries for practice when I’m in Brisbane, ya know? After we are done here, I have a little timer set up to burn this apartment building to the ground. I can collect on that insurance money and buy a couple properties in Brisbane, rent them out maybe? I have time to figure it all out.”

“Oh, sure.”

Circling the chair, he began to untie your hands, reminding you to behave before he continued telling you about his master plan, “Now, no running... I made pretty good money with the laundromat and as a landlord, but you really need to follow your dreams.”

From the moment the rope slipped from your wrists, you bolted, scrambling away from him as quickly as possible. He must not have been expecting you to run as he stumbled and tripped over the chair you had been sitting in.

You really had no clue where to run, but you dashed past his work bench, pausing momentarily to lift the far side of it and send the tools crashing and skidding across the floor. Hopefully, if you made enough noise, someone nearby would be able to hear you calling for help. You screamed for help, calling out Miranda’s name, and calling out your own name for any passerby to hear.

As you moved through the basement, you could hear his angry shouting behind you, “Get back here, you dumb bitch.”

Glancing back over your shoulder, he wasn’t any closer, but you figured you should keep throwing things in his path. Passing by one of his beloved shelves of organs, you yanked the shelf to the floor, taking seconds longer than you should have when you saw him sprinting even closer. The horrible smell of preserved organs and ethanol filled the air when the cans burst open upon hitting the floor.

Continuing down a hallway, you realized the opportunity for you to be trapped was growing high. He groaned in frustration behind you, pausing momentarily to look at all of his hard work undone by your action. You attempted to rattle the handle on two different doors to only find them locked. Further down the hallway, there was a final door and metal bars moving up the wall, leading to a hatch in the ceiling.

You could hear the sound of his feet hitting the floor- he must have jumped over the fallen shelf, resuming his pursuit of you. Ignoring the door, you assumed it would be locked like the others, so you choose to climb the ladder instead. Your heart dropped when your foot slipped on the second step, knowing you had wasted a split second and the odds of him grabbing your legs and pulling you to the floor was high.

You made it up another two steps when your foot slipped again. The adrenaline and anxiety from being caught was making your entire body shake. A glimmer of hope shone through when your hand grasped the latch of the hatch, pushing upwards. It was beyond heavy, but you were able to shift it upwards an inch.

A hand around your ankle causes you to yelp out a final cry for help through the small opening leading to the outside world. His other hand came to grasp the back of your shirt and he gave you a yank backwards and you were filled with self-disgust when your hands slipped from their places on the latch and ladder. He sent you flying to the floor, your head hitting the brick of the basement wall.

The last thing you heard was the hatch slamming shut under the weight of itself.

----

Miranda was trying her best to help Robin, but the pressure of finding you was starting to get to her. She began pacing back and forth across the back wall of your apartment while Robin continued searching for anything out of the ordinary. The shorter woman shot her partner an annoyed glance, wishing Miranda could set aside her feelings for you to make headway on finding you, “Miranda! Can you help me here?”

“I’m doing my best, Robin! Get off my ass!” Miranda shouted, stopping in her tracks and stomping her foot in defiance. A hollow sound from beneath her echoed from the strike of her boot. Furrowing her brow, Miranda glanced down to the floor, repeating the action once more and receiving the same response. Shifting over a meter, Miranda threw her foot down once more to hear solid ground instead of the echo.

“There is no need to throw a tantrum, Hilmarson. We will figure this out.” Robin must not have noticed the change in noises like Miranda had as she rolled her eyes at the blonde. The brunette’s phone began to buzz in her pocket once more and she huffed in frustration at seeing Adrian’s contact once more. Accepting the call and shoving the phone to her ear, Robin was less than welcoming to her boss, “What?”

“Where the hell are you?” Adrian shouted into the receiver of his office phone.

Robin glanced over at Miranda kneeling on the floor, her fingers dancing around the edges of floorboards, attempting to lift them from their place, “...investigating a lead.”

Miranda studied the floorboards, noting a different wear pattern at the edge of where the hollow noise began. Pulling a pocket knife from her vest, Miranda wedged it into the boards, prying up the board enough for her to push her fingers under it and lift. A group of boards were attached to one another, revealing a hole in the floor, a ladder lining one of the walls.

“The suspect’s alibi is airtight. The dental records came back on the second victim. Her name was Abbey Moore.” Robin was only paying partial attention to Adrian’s words as she watched Miranda. “Both the victims and this kid all have something in common; they are all tenants of the same landlord. We are thinking the landlord could be behind it all.”

At the sight of the secret tunnel, Robin’s eyes widened, a satisfied smile spreading across her face in knowing they had been right. It all made perfect sense that the landlord had been the one to frame his male tenant, kill the two women, and kidnap you. While she didn’t know his motive, he had the opportunity and access to harm his tenants, “It’s him. The landlord did it.”

“We need to- You knew?” Adrian couldn’t hide his shock at his detective’s statement.

Robin crossed the apartment, filling Adrian in before she and Miranda continued their investigation, “We followed Hilmarson’s theory. Send backup back to the apartment building. She found a hatch leading somewhere. We are going to follow it down and see what we can find.”

Adrian barked an order, but it was no use. The constable and detective were too determined to save you and catch a killer, “Get out of there, Griffin. Wait until I get down there with a couple more constables. We don’t know what we are up against here.”

“There is no time. We will leave the hatch open for you to find, Adrian.” Robin shook her head, knowing if she or Miranda were to get hurt due to her continuous disobedience, she would be put on desk duty for the foreseeable future. Robin hung up and shoved her phone in her back pocket, “Okay, Hilmarson. You want to go first, or shall I?”

-------

The horrid agony of a scalpel digging into your forearm brought you back to consciousness. You could sense the blinding LEDs before you even opened your eyes. Your head throbbed and there was a tightness across your chest and legs. Straps held your body in place and your head hitting the bricks earlier had left you with a large gash in the back of your head. You attempted to cry out in pain, but your voice was muffled by a rag that tasted of wood stain causing a burning sensation on your tongue.

Glancing up from his work, he now donned a pair of magnifying glasses to make sure his work was neat and tidy. He was using a rag doused in hydrogen peroxide to add an extra sting whenever he wiped away the blood, wanting you to suffer as much as possible, not giving you the opportunity to regain your breath between cuts, “You shouldn’t have done that. Now you wont get to choose the little note I leave on your corpse.”

He had only made his way through two words, 𐐔𐐨𐑉 𐐣𐐮𐑉𐐰𐑌𐐼𐐲, and tears had already flooded your eyes and were pouring down your cheeks. His movements were short strokes, making sure to leave enough room on your forearm for everything he wanted to say. If this experience were to be reflective of your death, this was going to be a prolonged and harrowing experience.

#miranda hilmarson #miranda hilmarson x reader #top of the lake #gwendoline christie #fanfic #gwen christie #organs in the wash

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