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luveline · 2 years

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𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

summary eddie munson is super weird. he holds your hand too tight, he has a fascination with your neck, and he can’t give a hickey to save his life. good thing you’re super weird, too. [20k]

warnings two losers falling in love!! vampire!eddie munson, ditzy!reader (kind of), fem!reader, smut mdni (p in v, unprotected sex, oral fem receiving, general heavy petting and kissing, praise), fluff, hurt/comfort, angst (eddie struggling with guilt and grief). canon divergent (the events of volume 2 take place but there’s a mostly happy ending i.e. everyone good lives and everyone bad dies) TW eddie doesn't have suicidal thoughts, but he does think about it briefly. not with intent or anything like that though. requested here for my halloween party <3

(㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Eddie Munson never wanted to be a vampire, and he wants that on the record.

It's a ridiculous existence. It's embarrassing. It's nothing like all the movies and books promised him.

He's looking at you, Bram Stoker.

In Eddie's mind, Stoker’s nothing less than a liar and a sycophant.

"Who's dick were you bouncing on, Stoker?" he demands to know, kicking fallen leaf mulch under his feet angrily. "Need'ta fucking impress some vampire lover with your over-exaggerated, over-powered, ridiculous descriptions? Great. Hope it was worth it. Meanwhile I'm here, self-esteem half the size of a grain of rice because I can't scale a building with my bare hands."

Eddie would know. He's tried.

He's not genuinely angry with Bram Stoker, but he'd rather take his frustrations out on a guy who's been dead for a hundred years than take them out on the demobats, because he doesn't want to even think about the demobats. They're all dead too. Not before they'd had (see: devoured) their pound of flesh and changed his life for the worse, though.

He shakes his head to drive out the memory like water in his ears. It's easier to pretend none of that shit in the upside down ever happened. (Impossible to pretend. He begs himself to try anyway.)

He’s pissed because science fiction has promised him a lot of things and reality has delivered on none of them. No super strength, no impermeable skin. He is faster, but that's more a reflexive thing than anything else. And being faster doesn't make running fun. That’s impossible.

Sunlight breaks through the treeline and his skin crawls. Science fiction didn't get that right, either. The sun doesn't hurt. It's just really, really annoying.

He covers his eyes, winces at his itchy hand, pulls his sleeve over his fingers and covers his eyes again. "This blows," he says, and means it.

In Dracula, the sun nulls Dracula’s supernatural abilities. Eddie doesn’t have any abilities worth nulling, unless you count echolocation.

He doesn’t.

He walks another five minutes up the road toward Forest Hills when he realises you're behind him. His senses are enhanced now as a bat’s might be, hearing fine-tuned and dialled up every second of the day — which makes living in a trailer park where everyone thinks he's a murderer an acute misery — but he's as prone to distraction as anyone else. Especially when he gets stuck in a memory.

Eddie throws his gaze over his shoulder and finds you thirty or forty feet away, talking to yourself under your breath. He knows you more for your sounds than your appearance. To be able to put a face to your mindless babbling is a mystery solved. Of course you look like that. A skirt made of soft looking fabric bounces over two cute thighs, a pretty lacy corset type of thing that isn't too tight outfits your top half. You look more like a vampire than he does.

"Hi, Eddie," you call.

His eyes widen, a deer-in-the-headlights kind of surprise. If you notice how he's frozen you don't show it, continuing to push your bike toward him. The tick of the wheels grows louder as you get closer, two hands on the handlebars with wrists draped in bracelets, both silver and fabric.

Besides your jewellery, your arms are bare. You must be freezing.

"Hey," he says.

He doesn't know your name. He doesn't know how you know his, and he’s too awkward to ask.

Your sounds peak as you close the gap. The wet scrape of your dirty black canvas shoes over shining asphalt, the soft puff of your breath, the clinking sounds of whatever trinkets you have in your bag. If he focuses, he can make out the tiniest pinches of fabric. Your short sleeves rubbing against your arms, your bra straps stretching over your shoulders.

Eddie takes a deep breath and tries to diminish his senses.

"Where's your van?" you ask curiously.

"Piece of shit kicked it in the middle of town. Just my luck."

You pause at his side, looking him up and down obviously but without the judgement or irreverent disgust he's come to expect from near about everybody in Hawkins.

"That's not good," you say succinctly.

It's such a genuine response that Eddie can't find it in himself to be sarcastic.

"God awful," he agrees sullenly.

You nod and start to walk again. Eddie falls naturally into step beside you, matching your pace without thinking.

"You should get a bike."

He laughs. Coughs to cover it up. "Yeah?"

"They're way more reliable than a car, and it doesn't hurt the zone."

Eddie squints. "The o-zone?"

"Is there another one?"

You're still so serious that he spares you the ridicule he might dole out to anyone else. If Dustin had said something like that he would've ripped the kid a new one, but you're rather sweet in an odd way. You have a soft manner of talking — each word sounds like you've thought its pronunciation through meticulously beforehand.

He ignores your question and points at your bike, ring catching the sun. "Why aren't you riding it?"

"My chain slipped."

"So much for reliable."

That makes you smile. Eddie feels it like a punch, a flat palm slapped into his chest.

"You can't put the chain on yourself?"

A brisk breeze whips your hair, your earrings. The left kisses your cheek, a silver heart-shaped hoop with pink beads that click together. You lean into it, face tilted to one side as a perplexed smile plays on your sticky lips. "You can do that?"

"Sure, you pull it back around the gear. It's easy." He hesitates for a moment, and then feels guilty about hesitating. "I'll do it for you, if you want."

"The guy in no. 62 has been charging me ten dollars." You don't sound as angry as you should, in Eddie's opinion.

"I'll do it for nothing."

You beam at him. His chest feels like a bruise.

Pretty girls don't like Eddie. Not before Chrissy, not after. He's trying to work out your angle, what it is that you want.

Or maybe you don't know.

As soon as you find out who he is, you'll turn your pretty nose up at him and walk the other way. He shouldn't smile at you, he definitely shouldn't fix your bike.

He can't help it. He's so starved for positive attention that he follows you all the way through the park, westside to east.

He checks the driveway of his own home and smiles mildly when he spots Wayne's new car. It's new in the sense that it's different. It's actually way older than the one he'd had before, the one he'd pawned to pay for Eddie's — well, Eddie's everything. His check-ups, his court dates, his goddamn bail. In the same way that this trailer isn't the trailer, but an older, smaller one as far away from their first as possible.

Kid, if I had the money…

Wayne hadn't needed to finish. If he had the money, they'd leave. Leave Hawkins, leave Indiana. Settle down in some other mediocre Midwestern state with all the same creature comforts and none of the "You were acquitted but literally none of us believe you didn't kill someone," motif.

All they have now is debt, each other, and the Great Munson mug collection.

Eddie keeps his head down as they pass the old trailer. Nobody lives inside now. Only termites.

He can taste blood by the time they reach your home. Far from the metallicity of his human blood, Eddie's blood now harbours a bitter taste. Not quite like coffee but with that same overwhelming earthiness. He pulls his teeth from the bitten flesh of his bottom lip and quickly raises a hand to his teeth, alarmed.

No knife-like points. Normal teeth.

"Are you thirsty?" you ask him.

Eddie flinches and drops his hand. You've parked your bike against the wooden lifts of your porch and are halfway up the steps to your front door, hand clasped loosely on the railing.

His heart fucking pounds.

"I have grape juice?"

"Right," he says hurriedly, "right. Yeah, that would be awesome."

Duh, you meant juice.

You send him another endearing smile and pop up the last of your steps and into the front door. It's not locked. He doesn't follow, thinking you must live with somebody (who's gonna know exactly who he is and tell him to get lost).

He turns his attention to your bike instead. It's easy enough to fix. He rolls the bike so its handlebars are resting against your concrete driveway and covers the top bar of the metal body with his sneaker to stop it from toppling. He rolls up his sleeves and bares his arms, but pulls them back down immediately when he remembers the white-purple whorls of scar tissue lurking underneath.

"Fuck," he mutters. Everything is a reminder, all of the time. He can't escape what happened.

It's everywhere.

He's getting his fingers under the chain when you reappear. You've layered up, bracelets and naked arms hidden by a black hoodie.

The wind blows and your skirt shifts. From his position he can see a ladder hiding in your tights where your inner thighs are pressed together. He whips his gaze up like a high-school perv caught sneaking peeks in the girls locker room and notices the stitching on your chest for the first time.

"You like Dio?" he asks excitedly.

"Who?"

He wilts. "Uh, your hoodie. Dio."

"I got it for three dollars in the bargain bins," you supply helpfully, all pep as you climb down the stairs and offer him a glass cup adorned in dainty enamel flowers. "Is Dio good?"

He waves his hand at the glass apologetically. "Two seconds…" Lifting the chain with the second hand, Eddie tugs and then feeds until the links are lined up with the bumps on the big chainring. The skin on his fingertips get pinched and his eyebrows pull together in pain, but it's a mild irritant at worst and after a moment the chain is back in place.

He pulls his hand away and wipes dark grease down the front of his jacket. "I think I did it."

You're glowing, earrings like a metronome as you ask, "That fast? You're awesome."

He turns the pedal and your back wheel spins in time with his heart. You're awesome. When was the last time somebody who wasn't Wayne said anything like that?

Although Dustin had told him he thought Eddie was a much cooler, more fucked up version of the guy from Van Halen the other day.

You're just saying that 'cos we're both called Eddie, Eddie had said morosely.

Learn to take a compliment, dude.

When they aren't pity compliments, he might.

Eddie lifts your bike back onto the wheels to show you that it's working perfectly. You giggle your evident pleasure. "Oh, thank you, thank you!" you say, super sweet even as grape juice sloshes over the rims of your flowered glasses and drips down your fingers.

"Here, let me," he says, taking the glasses from your purple-stained hands.

You kiss your hands clean which is a thing, a lot to watch. Eddie admits to himself that he thinks you're really pretty, recognises that that is a bad thing to think considering the likely very short life span of your acquaintance. God knows you won't be saying anything as friendly when you find out who he is.

"You're so nice," you say. It feels like you're talking more to yourself than him. "Thank you. It's slipped off three times this month, and ten dollars is ten dollars. Wait, do you want ten dollars?"

"My services were administered charitably.”

Your smile grows. You accept your glass and take a small sip, eyes lit up as Eddie steers your bike one-handed to rest against the porch.

"Do you wanna come inside? I don't have any of the Dio, but I have Blondie."

He holds in a throwaway comment about real rock and roll, astounded that you’d ask him. "Your folks aren't home?"

"I'm twenty-two."

Eddie squints at you. "Seriously?"

"You didn't think so?"

He shrugs. It's not that you don't look twenty two. Or even that you don't act twenty two. But it's been a long time since he met somebody living alone in the park. Forest Hills is where poverty comes to settle.

"A boyfriend?"

"Just me and mister Porterson."

"That your grandpa?"

"That's my pet fish."

He smiles. It's his first real, authentic smile in days. He's genuinely elated by your offer and your attitude, but he doesn't know how to handle it, struck with a sudden nightmare of you, afterward, telling somebody you'd invited him in and he'd tried to hurt you. It isn't fair of him to assume you'd do anything like that. You've been nothing but sweet and sincere this whole time.

Eddie hasn't let his guard down in a long time.

You're giving him this wide-eyed, imploring look that promptly suffocates any fear.

And in a week, when she finds out who you are and feels betrayed, feels tricked? What then, Munson?

"You know what happened?" he asks.

"What happened?"

"Two years ago. Chrissy… Chrissy Cunningham?"

Don't say her fucking name.

Your expression clears as clarity blooms. You take a step. He needs a second to realise you've come forward rather than away, fingers twitching toward his hand.

"I know about it. I'm sorry that happened to you."

He stares.

This is a trick. Two years and he can count the amount of people who believe him on his two hands, and only because they'd all gone through it with him. Sometimes there are outliers, logical people who seem to realise Eddie couldn't have killed all those people, couldn't have been in all those different places without leaving any evidence behind. And sometimes there are people who agree he didn't kill Chrissy, but he's a coward for leaving her to die. (She’d already been dead.)

Eddie doesn't know what he thinks. Wayne sets the record straight every now and then with a clap on the shoulder. You did what every parent wants their kid to do. You lived. I can't ask for more than that.

"You don't believe it?"

"That you hurt her?" You hold his gaze, face practically impassive. "No, I don't believe it."

He pulls in a breath that fills every inch of his chest. "I could learn to like Blondie," he says.

—

You're standing in the driveway of Eddie's trailer with a heavy bag over your shoulder, face to face with a man who kind of looks like him but not really. You assume it's his uncle because who else could he be? If you hadn't seen him here you'd never guess.

"Eddie's mom must've had strong genes," you say. You bring your shoulder up toward your cheek thoughtfully. "He didn't get any of your face. Was she pretty? Eddie's really pretty."

"She was," he says, peering down his nose at you.

"I got sandwiches. Do you want one?"

"What kind?"

"I have ham and cheese, or ham and lettuce and tomato, or I have pumpernickel cookies. Is Eddie a vegetarian?"

"Why?"

"'Cause I only brought one cheese and cucumber, and I have dibs."

He climbs down the last couple of steps and is still taller but definitely less imposing, face covered in scratchy salt and pepper stubble and crows feet deeply embedded into the corners of his eyes. He looks like a man who has been tired for a very long time. You make a mental note to bring him some lavender for his pillow on your next visit.

"You're Eddie's new friend?"

You nod your head briskly. "Yes, sir. I'm Y/N."

He opens his box of camels like a pro, bottom pressed to his chest. He tucks a cigarette between his lips and pulls his lighter out. He doesn't light it.

"It's nice to meet you," he says eventually, voice warming.

You search through the mess of your skirt for the zipper on your bag and peel it open, pulling out your tupperware of cookies and cracking them open to release the fragrant smell of cinnamon and almonds. It's a heady scent, fitting for the holiday season approaching.

You offer Eddie’s uncle a cookie.

"Thought pumpernickel was bread," he says gruffly, taking one.

"It is, but there's this little town in France that makes these every year at Christmas and they call them pumpernickel biscuits," — he takes a bite and winces at the hard snap — "you're s'posed to dip them in hot chocolate."

"You don't say."

You nod happily and he moves aside to let you pass.

"Thanks, kid."

You turn back to him with your fingers curled around the door handle. "Of course! It's really nice to meet you, Mr. Munson, sir."

"Wayne is fine."

You laugh and repeat his name in a similarly rough voice, letting yourself in as Eddie had told you to do. You find him immediately in a man-made corner of the living room, pale and in his pyjamas. The trailer is open planned, a living room they’ve divided by propping a couch against the kitchen counter, a slim hallway leading to a cramped bathroom and the single bedroom. It's exactly like in your home.

You're somewhat surprised to see him in pyjamas. Eddie doesn't wear comfy looking clothes out of the house — you've only ever seen him in jeans and jackets like a real rockstar.

"Are you ready?" you ask.

You've invited him to come and search for bugs with you. Catching any kind of bug, whether beetle or butterfly or spider, is really scary, but you need to be able to catch them to draw them.

You'd expressed this to him over the phone and he'd said, "I can come and help. I have good reflexes."

He rubs his hands over his knees. There's a blanket pooled around his feet, a quilt he must sleep with, and the room is decorated with not a whole lot of stuff but enough to make you take a step back.

"Is this your room?" you ask, enchanted.

"Kind of." He pulls his hair from behind his ear, obscuring a pale cheek. "I don't think I can come with you today, I'm sorry. I meant to call you."

You toy with a dark thigh high sock as you ease out of your shoes, height drastically decreasing. "That's okay, we can stay here. I brought you a sandwich. I brought you two sandwiches," you correct.

He nods. Rather sadly, in your opinion. "Alright. Thanks."

You step over a tented paperback and hand off the cookies before sitting down beside him on the couch he's occupying. It's smaller than the one against the wall and round like a clam, lots of room for your legs to stretch out.

"I feel like a pearl," you say.

You and Eddie have been friends for a little while now. Long enough for you to realise he's either depressed or mentally unwell in some way. You hardly mind keeping him company on his bad days if he needs somebody, so drawing bugs will have to wait.

His hair is limp, not totally greasy but not super clean either. His face looks fresh enough, though the bags under his eyes make you frown.

You pull your purse into your lap, thighs covered by the thin layers of your midi skirt. "I have just the thing for you," you murmur.

"Yeah? Bring me another bracelet?"

You like that he sounds eager. Making his bracelet had been a challenge, lots of knotting and double knotting, three restarts and one small under the breath tantrum. It's not anything special, black and white hearts seven strands wide, but he'd been very appreciative.

"No, but I can make you another one if you want. I mastered the inverse chevron last night."

He hums. You pull a saran wrapped sandwich from the depths of your crowded bag, glad to see it's mostly intact. When you open it up you find that it's the ham and lettuce and tomato one, so you drop it into his lap haphazardly and move onto the next.

"Aha! Here," you pull a cucumber from your sandwich. "For you."

He takes it between two tentative fingers. "Thank you?"

"For your eyes."

"There's cheese on it."

"I'll still work," you assure him.

"M'not putting cheese on my eyes."

You laugh because he probably shouldn't put cheese on his eyes, cucumber adjacent or otherwise. "Okay, don't. I'll make you a hot towel."

He drops his hand on your arm as you go to stand. You like how he touches you, soft but not scared. "You just got here. Stay here." He pats you nicely. "Tell me about work last night."

You settle heavily into the seat beside him, your thigh to his thigh, your hip squished against his hip, doughy flesh separated by nothing more than a strappy tank top and a cotton long-sleeve t-shirt. His heat quickly becomes yours, a sinking transference of warmth.

"Well," you begin, cheek turning into the couch to face him. "It was mostly okay. I dropped another plate, but this time it didn't have a stack of waffles on it."

He smiles ruefully and sinks back as you had. Neither of you eat your sandwiches. "Progress. Taking it out of your pay?"

"Yes, definitely."

"Discrimination."

"That's what I said! I said, Sarah, I was born with butterfingers and you know that."

"She didn't budge?"

"Dishwashing all week next week. Whatever, though, 'cause it's Saturday."

He laughs and shakes his head, his gaze dropping to your neck. He does that sometimes. You can't blame him; you wear a varying assortment of necklaces because you think they're pretty, and you're glad he likes them too.

"See my new one?"

"What?"

"New necklace." You look down at your chest and pull the newest addition from between the cups of your bra. "It's real silver."

"It's nice."

"It's surprisingly heavy. Wanna feel?"

"That's okay," he says, slightly strained.

Right, you think. I'm talking a lot.

You press your lips together in a mild pout and look at him through appreciative eyes. He's a very pretty boy, all soft and pale and sweet dark curls.

"Do you want me to put your hair up?"

His lips part before he talks. "I don't know if you should."

"Sure I should. It's getting in your eyes, right?" You take his hand where it's laid unsuspectingly in his lap and slip the hair tie from around his wrist, his fingertips tickling the inside of your palm. "Sit forward, Eddie."

He takes a deep breath, holds it, and sits up. You twist and then realise you need some more height, pushing a leg under yourself to kneel next to his lap.

You weave our fingers softly into the hair at the front of his face and rake away in lieu of a brush. After it's mostly tamed you pull it all into one hand and wrap the tie at the base of his head. You hum to yourself as you go, pleased when his lovely curls behave.

"Voilà," you announce, moving back on your haunches.

He breathes out. "Thank you."

You reach for a curl you'd missed at the very front and encourage it behind his ear. He has subtle indents in his cheeks today like he's in need of a good meal, and his skin is colder than it should be when you flatten your palm.

"You need something to eat," you fret. Your fingertips stroke under his eye, your thumb his smile lines.

He moves away slowly.

You pull your hand back into your lap. "Maybe we can go out and get something, if you don't like the sandwich?"

"What?" he asks, pale lips taut as he simpers at you. "Are you kidding? This is about to fix everything that's wrong with me."

His enthusiasm emboldens you. "It so will! There's ham and cheese too, if you prefer that one."

"Get it! I'm gonna eat both of them." S

Eddie eats both of his sandwiches and you eat your own, the two of you with your heads dropped back against the couch as you watch TV. There's a guy you've never seen before running around the streets of Chicago city centre looking for people to be in his play. Eddie's seen it before. He repeats dialogue in time with the characters, performing each line. Impressive, what with how tired he looks.

"What did he just say?" you ask, mouth full of cucumber.

"He said he's gonna throw himself off a bridge," Eddie informs. "Poor guy. I know the feeling."

You swallow harshly.

"Seriously?"

Your sad tone surprises him.

"I- No, I'm kidding," he says, scratching the base of his throat, friendship bracelet his only adornment.

His nervous itching makes you even more worried.

"If you did wanna do that, you can talk to me-"

He baulks, tongue poking out past his lips as he licks the corner of his mouth. "Thanks, sweetheart," he says, pet name like a kiss. It sounds silly but it really feels like one, right in the centre of your chest. "But I'm fine. Promise. It was a bad joke."

"Okay," you say, letting your suspicion shine through. You hold his eyes.

You haven't known Eddie long. It feels like you met yesterday, though really it's been two or three weeks. You fit together in a way you hadn't expected and adore more than you can articulate, two funny puzzle pieces.

"Well, I just wanted you to know. I like being your friend, I don't want you to disappear."

He laughs and licks his lips, a rough, chesty sound. "I don't want you to disappear either."

Tires crunch outside, a shushing sound and then the sharp shriek of a jeep being put into park. Eddie perks up considerably, his shoulders straightening.

"Hey, Chief," Wayne calls.

Trailer walls. Basically made of cardboard.

"Hey, Wayne. Where's the kid?"

You can't hear what Wayne says after that, words stolen by the TV.

"Is that Chief Hopper?" you ask, trying to catch a glimpse of him through the mostly shuttered blinds.

"Yeah, he- He's friends with Wayne."

"Why's he wanna know where you are?"

"'Cause I got into so much trouble."

You bite your tongue. His tone is hard, not stern but almost, and you realise you've overstepped as you usually do. You want to apologise but you don't want to pick the wound, eager to gloss over and make him smile again.

"It's pretty cool, isn't it?" you ask him.

"What?"

You spread your legs wider to slide onto your thighs and make him the taller one again, legs bent in a 'W' shape. "Coming back from the dead! First Will Byers, then Hopper."

Something surfaces in his expression. An irony.

"The undead," you croon, aiming for a smile, a laugh.

He cracks. "The undead," he agrees, smiling in bemusement. His eyes are a funny shade of brown.

—

Eddie shoo’s you home early that night but tries to do it kindly. He feigns exhaustion, a facade that's difficult to uphold when his entire body is thrumming with want. If there's one thing Eddie hates about being a vampire (there are literally hundreds of things he hates, but this one's special) it's that he wants to hurt the people he likes a thousand times more than the people he doesn't.

He can't explain it. Your blood is more appealing than any lonesome stranger's. Your pulse is practically music to his ears when you sit beside him. He'd kill himself before he ever hurt you, though. Or that's what he likes to think. Whether he has that amount of control is debatable.

No. He would kill himself before he hurt you, or Wayne, or any of his friends.

Steve can see the way that he's feeling on his face.

Hopper's delivery set to one side, a tall glass with blood congealed in a sticky ring at the bottom, Eddie curls under his huge quilt and tries not to pass out. Blood sate feels the same as a thanksgiving food coma. It's awesome.

He hates how good it feels.

"Stop feeling guilty," Steve says.

"He doesn't look guilty to me," Dustin says beside him, taller than the last time Eddie had seen him but still miles off of Steve's tall stature. He's changed his hat again, this one a garish green. It's not a good look.

"He looks like he's napping," Robin says, delighted.

"Can you guys go home?" Eddie asks.

"Shithead."

"What Steve means to say," Robin corrects, grinning her huge, catching smile, "is that no, we aren't going home. We brought games."

"I don't wanna play games." He does. Eddie needs the distraction, because eventually the blood sate will fade and all that will remain will be self-revulsion and a cruel desire to do something awful.

"I do not care even slightly," Steve says, deadpan, as he sits right there next to Eddie where you'd been sitting before. Steve's nowhere near as soft and he doesn't smell as nice, but Eddie's honestly glad someone is willing to sit next to him at all.

"Ouch, what the fuck?"

Dustin looks up from where he's sat himself on the floor. Robin giggles in her seat on the coffee table.

"Munson, are you fucking shedding? I just got stabbed."

"They don't work like that. They retract."

Eddie feels at his broken gums with his tongue. There's a clean incision where his fangs come out and then snap back inside after a time. They're remarkably thin, fitting in front of his natural incisors neatly.

Steve grumbles, hips lifted and hand searching under his butt for whatever it is that jabbed him. He retrieves exactly what Eddie had been expecting but hadn't had the forethought to prepare a lie about with a shocked gasp.

"Is this an earring? You don't have your ears pierced."

He swallows, knowing it's a very guilty gesture, and meets Steve's eyes straight on.

Funny how Steve's hair speaks as much as his expression, bobbing as he nods his head to emphasise each word, "Munson, do you have a girlfriend?"

Silence.

"...Not really."

"Holy shit," Dustin says, sounding extremely pleased. "No way."

Robin tucks her short hair behind her ears, hands paused in disbelief at her neck. "Actually?"

"I have a friend," Eddie admits.

"Thank god," Steve says, dropping your heart earring onto Eddie's thigh. The silver feels extremely hot over his pyjamas, like it's been held in the centre of a blistering hearth.

"I really thought Steve was gonna have to take one for the team and give you a pity handie," Robin says agreeably, scratchy voice coloured by genuine awe.

Eddie groans, "Harrington, get this shit off of me. You know I can't touch that."

"I forgot," Steve lies. "Can you wait? My hands are busy."

—

He has Steve put your earring between two pieces of kitchen towel and holds onto it. He doesn't see you for a week, and he keeps your damn earring in his pocket that entire time worried it's gonna slip out and brand him at any second.

Finally, you call him. He pretends he wasn't waiting.

"Hello," you say, like you're announcing something.

"Hey. How are you?"

"Eddie, I need your help. Badly."

He flinches up where he'd been leaning casually, hard enough to make Wayne jump. Eddie smiles at him placatingly and mouths a poor sorry, turning away to pretend there's a semblance of privacy to be found in such close quarters.

"Are you okay?"

"I gotta find a rainbow leaf beetle. Do you have a torch?"

"...What?"

"They only come out at night, so I'm gonna go look but I don't have a torch that works."

He relaxes, the lilting cadence of your voice enough to make his whole night. You sound so pretty even through the phone. He suspects you could hold any pitch, deep or high, and you'd still sound nice.

It's all in the way you — he says this with love — perform the words. You speak like each word you're saying has equal importance, and it's calming.

Even when you say stuff that's nonsense to him.

Right now, you don't sound upset or even worried about not having a torch, simply curious to know if he has one. If he focuses hard (and he's been trying not to, as you deserve your privacy) he can hear you all the way across the park, shifting from foot to foot in your bedroom, carpet crushed under your heels.

The action makes him think this might be more urgent to you than you'd first admitted.

"I have a torch." He also has amazing night vision. Like, impeccable. "Can I come help?"

"You want to?"

"I'd love to. Are you going out tonight?" He leans back to glance out the window. "The rain is finally stopping."

"Yeah, tonight! Is that okay for you? We could go tomorrow if you can't."

You're willing to change your plans now that he's asked to go with you. It's a gesture as lovely as you are. Eddie doesn't think you'd ever think it of yourself; your kindness is so intrinsic you don't notice it, like the fine stitching of a leather bound book. Integral and widely unappreciated.

"That's perfect."

Wayne raises an eyebrow when Eddie relays the conversation. "You're going out in the middle of the night with this girl to… look for bugs."

Eddie crosses his arms over his chest. "I swear."

"Be honest with me, kid."

"I am!"

Wayne swirls his coke can around in his hand as he thinks, a reluctance evident in his scowl. Eddie knows he's way too old for a guardian's oversight like this but he lets Wayne have a say because Wayne loves him, and Eddie doesn't ever want to put his old man through the turmoil he went through when he ran away. If that means a curfew in his twenties, Eddie's okay with that.

"If you're going to have sex with this girl, I'd prefer you did it here. You have to treat women with respect."

Eddie shivers, full body. "Wayne," he groans, covering his face. He can feel his cheeks pink under his palms, that's how quickly his embarrassment rises.

"I know you're more responsible these days, and you're a grown up. If you want a girlfriend and you want to do adult things with her-"

"Jesus Christ."

"- then that's alright. You don't have to fool around outside."

He drags his hands down on his face, pained. "It's not like that. You met her, you know she's…"

"Strange?"

"Alternative."

"No, you're alternative. She's cooky."

"Don't," he says. He knows his uncle isn't actually being cruel, so he lets it lie and fights for his own cause. "We aren't messing around. She genuinely wants me to go find these bugs with her. And…" He hates himself. "She has her own place, you know? If we were going to-"

Wayne seems stricken by the same mortified embarrassment as Eddie, raising a calloused hand in surrender. "Spare me."

"Thank you," Eddie says, spinning on his heel to hide in the bathroom for a while. It's only when he's sitting on the closed toilet does he realise Wayne hadn't mentioned his more dangerous ailment. For a time, he'd been a normal (debatable) person having a normal (horrifying) conversation with his dad. Not a vampire. Not somebody who ruins everything he touches.

—

"It's so quiet," you whisper.

For you, Eddie thinks.

You're in the forest surrounding the aptly named Forest Hills trailer park, wielding your borrowed torch carefully into the dark. Eddie's following in your footsteps, trying not to smell everything that's on you today and failing.

You smell like a person as everybody does. Over that is your soap, a faint hint of milk and honey that sticks to your skin even after you've washed it away. Over that is your deodorant, 'unscented', and over that is your perfume, which he likes most. It's a mix of smells, some Eddie doesn't know and some he does. There's lavender, though that might be down to the bunch you'd brought for his uncle wrapped in newspaper, and there's something fruity he can't quite put his finger on, all of it wrapped up in a cloying pairing of vanilla and coconut.

"Eddie?"

"What?"

"Are you okay? You're almost as quiet as the trees."

If only you knew the trees aren't quiet.

"I'm alright," he says quickly, catching up to you where you stand a few feet ahead. "What are we looking for?"

Best change the subject. How to explain he'd been smelling the notes of your perfume?

"They rest on tree trunks. You have to be careful, any sudden sound or light will scare them away. But if you flash the torch on them, they shine like oil stains."

He loves when you talk. "Where'd they come from?"

"Place called Snowdon. They're so rare, they think there's only about a thousand alive there."

"Well, how did they get here?"

You laugh under your breath, so quiet he would've missed it if he wasn't enhanced. "I don't know. How do beetles get to different places?"

"They fly?"

A twig crunches under your shoe.

Eddie tips his head to the side, thinking. "If there's only a thousand, how-" He stops, your circle of torch light growing further and further away. "Are you sure that they live here?"

"No, but if they do we'll be the first to find them."

"So they've never found any out here? In- In the midwest?"

"Not yet. Where'd you go?"

He shakes his head in an affectionate disbelief. "Right behind you."

You search in silence for a while. Eddie wishes he could say he was mad, or even mildly annoyed, wishes he had even the slightest regard for his own time, but really he thinks any time with you is time well spent. Especially if it's helping you do something you want to do. Whether you find your rainbow leaf beetle or not, he feels better knowing he's out here with you to keep you safe and in company.

Conversation is sparing. He doesn't mind. Your footsteps fill the sound and he finds even that stupid detail charming, the crunch, the pick up. His own are silent, a rare advantage to his terrible affliction.

"Any other beetles you want me to keep an eye out for?" he whispers.

"I'm not sure…" You turn to face him, torch pointed at your shoes. Rubber toes touched together, you lean in until you're all he can smell. Perfume. Blood. "If you see any cool spiders, too."

"You have the mason jar?"

"You know I do."

More than you realise, he thinks. The glass clicks in your bag.

There's enough light reflected to see the most minute details of your face. Your nose, the circle of your irises but not their colour. He suspects Eddie from early '86 wouldn't have been able to see hide nor hair, and it wouldn't shock him if you were technically blind right now.

"Thanks for coming out with me. I was gonna ask you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, but I didn't want to come on too strong." He can sense your smile even though he can't see it. It's in the way your breathing deepens. "I know I can be a lot to deal with."

"Who told you that?"

"What?"

Eddie doubles down.. "Who told you that?" he sounds heartbroken.

He kind of is. Yeah, you're weird — Who cares? Who isn't? — but you're not a lot to deal with. He doesn't 'deal' with you.

"Everybody tells me that. All the time."

"Everybody's stupid." To say it so loudly, scathingly, is sweet. It's therapeutic. "They are. This whole town is stupid."

Your fingertips touch his thigh. He's willing you to turn the torch up and see his face, because he has a lot of feelings on display that he isn't brave enough to say out loud.

"You never make me feel stupid," you say softly.

"You're not."

You giggle breathily at his vehemence, fingertips pressing in with a touch more pressure before you pull away and shine the torch deep into the trees.

"This whole town is stupid," you mumble. "But not you."

He thinks of his friends who are definitely stupid, but he loves anyways. He's about to add them to the not-stupid (subjectively) list when he remembers Steve's discovery: your earring burning a hole in his pocket. He'd been carrying it for long enough now to forget all about it.

"Hey, I have something for you."

"You do?"

"Don't get too excited. It's not a gift."

He digs in his pocket for the tissue paper wrapping and hisses in shock as the silver plating of your hoop graces his index finger. You shine the torch at him. His eyes ache like he's been stabbed and he slams them closed, hand pulled to his chest.

How embarrassing.

"Eddie, what happened?" you question loudly.

He winces at the sudden overstimulation. Slowly, he blinks, and finds you staring at him in a worry that softens every feature, even your nose. He doesn't know the logistics.

"It's okay. Stabbed a paper cut on the back. Your earring's in my pocket, the heart?"

"The hoop? I thought I lost it." Your worry turns to confusion and then melds into joy. You step forward and fish in his jacket pocket for your earring.

"Steve found it."

"'The hair'?"

"Yeah, the hair."

You both laugh and yours heightens when you find the earring, pulling it out like a knife to be brandished. "Yes."

"I meant to tell you a dozen times that I had it."

"You're the best."

There's a crunch of wood somewhere to the left like something heavy falling over.

The forest sprawls in every direction and the trees tower, their presence looming as skyscrapers. The wind ruffles the topmost branches and their trunks groan with pressure. It's enough to freak Eddie out super sense or not, feeling suddenly like he couldn't protect you. He could hear the individual droplets of drool dripping from a lynx's bloody maw, and he can sense each twig underfoot before he takes his next step, but none of that is going to keep you safe in the face of real danger.

"Maybe we should head back," he says tentatively.

"Okay. Do you want to come over?"

His breath catches. "You want me to?"

"Yeah, we can watch movies, I have leftover pasta."

That sounds more like what he should've been thinking. "I don't wanna keep you up."

"What kind of pasta?" he asks.

The torch flickers. "With the tiny tomatoes. You'll like it, super creamy."

"How do you know?"

"You like Alfredo," you say astutely, hitting the torch into the palm of your hand. It flashes weakly, the shadow of the trees flickering and so dark they're violet.

"Try tightening the handle."

You turn the barrel of the torch and the light switches off completely. You try to undo what you've done to no success, the sound of plastic rubbing plastic almost as loud as your heartbeat. Your pulse falters and then grows to racing when the light fails to come back on.

"Eddie," you say, sounding unsure. It's a new sound on you. "I don't know where we are. How are we gonna get home?"

Your admission is like a dousing of ice water over his head. "You don't know what direction we came from?"

"No, do you?"

Eddie wouldn't know if he couldn't hear the sound of the electricity pylon buzzing somewhere to the right. But how can he explain that? "Uh, we were turned around."

You creep to his side and grab his arm with both hands. "Are you sure?"

"Hey," he says gently. "Hey, it's okay. I know where we are. We'll be fine."

"Are you sure?" you ask again.

"I'm positive."

You take a deep breath that doesn't erase your shakiness, a failed attempt at self-soothing. "I really don't know where we are."

"You're not afraid of the dark, are you?"

"Not really… I don't wanna get lost out here."

"You won't. I know how to get back. C'mon," he prompts, pulling his arm to encourage you forward.

You let go of him and navigate a few steps by yourself. He weaves through the trees, waiting for your heartbeat to slow.

It doesn't. He opens his mouth to reassure you again when you gasp, kicking your foot against a root and tripping. You barely fall, catching yourself on the trunk of a tree, and Eddie remembers himself. You can't see the trees. That's why you're worried. You can't see anything.

Then the smell of blood hits him like a freight train.

—

Your hand stings where you caught yourself, palm scraped down against harsh bark.

"Shit," you mumble.

You're panicking badly, and you're confused as to why Eddie isn't. Not only was it fucking stupid of you to come out here with only one torch, it was stupid of you to assume you'd remember what way was home. It was stupid of you to come here tonight for that stupid beetle, and stupid of you to drag Eddie along. You're an idiot, and now you're bleeding.

Your eyes sting with tears, pain like a popped seal. I'm so stupid.

"Hey," Eddie says, his tone silky soft, "you're okay. Let me help you up."

You hold your hands out.

"Eddie, this is weird." Hopefully he understands that weird means scary.

He takes your hands, fingers closing slowly over your bloody palm. His breath is loud as he pulls you up toward him like he's panicked but his grip stays kind, and you abandon the notion when he rubs over your knuckles with his thumb. "It's alright."

He doesn't sound the same.

"Eddie, we can't see."

"We'll go slowly, okay? I'll put my hand out and we'll walk around anything that gets in the way."

"Yeah," you say hurriedly, heart bump-bump-bumping against your ribcage.

He keeps one hand, the injured one, and starts to drag you slowly through the trees. His grip tightens as you go until it starts to ache, until it feels like it might bruise.

"Ouch, Eds. You're hurting me," you say, going for a lightly teasing tone and missing the mark.

Instantly, he eases off. "Sorry, sweetheart. You hold onto me, alright?"

You do as he'd asked, hand clinging to him as he leads. He doesn't squeeze you again, walking slowly as he'd promised, and the closer you get to the edge of the forest the clearer it becomes. Light pollution from the centre of town leaches through the trees like water trickling from an overflowing basin.

His second hand is in his pocket.

"Here," he says after you've traversed to the very edge of the forest. "There's the park. We're bona fide explorers."

He looks out toward the park and you look at the side of his face. Something isn't right. Something uncanny.

You drop your gaze from his face to your joined hands. They come apart, blood smeared in both your palms like two halves of a dripping heart.

—

There is something weird about Eddie. As a residential freak of Hawkins you think you're an authority in this, and you don't feel guilty for judging him. Your brain can't stop going over your night in the forest. For days you play the scenes back and for days you lose the details. You forget how the wind had tousled his hair, how he'd smelled, what he'd said.

You remember the way he'd squeezed your bloody hand. You remember the way he'd spoken, strained.

Not strained like he didn't want to comfort you, he had, but strained.

Restrained.

You're poking at the shallow cut half-healed now in your palm at work when a dude walks in, very tall, handsome, and gunning straight for you.

You straighten your badge and hide your bracelet heavy wrists behind your back, receding slightly as he approaches. He slows in front of you.

You have a light bulb moment.

"The hair," you say.

He scowls. "He told you that, huh. Typical."

"You're Steve?"

"That's me." Steve crosses his arms across his chest, his back to a booth, your back to the diner bar. "You're Eddie's new friend."

"What counts as new?" A month and a half doesn't feel so new to you.

"Trust me, you're new."

He has the strangest patch covering the outside of his left wrist, the same peculiar scarring that you can see on Eddie's waist when he reaches for a glass out of the kitchen cabinet. You don't ask because you're not a dick no matter how curious you find yourself, but it makes your heart skip. What is that? You'd assumed Eddie's was road rash. Now you're not so sure.

He tucks it under his arm.

You meet his suspicious gaze.

"You want coffee?"

"No."

You kick your foot, shoe sliding over the shiny waxed floor with a squeal. "Is Eddie okay?"

"Did you want to come to a party next Friday?"

"No," you say honestly. "Like a cult?"

"What?"

"Are you initiating me into your cult?"

He finally smiles, eyes creased with amusement. "I'm inviting you to our club."

"Club where you chew on each other?"

You look pointedly at Steve's wrist.

"No. Club where we play board games and drink jiffy pop. Come or don't, doesn't matter."

"If it doesn't matter, why are you asking me?"

It's a strangely intense conversation to have this early in the morning. Patrons chatter about work, coffee gets poured. The diner smells of syrup and sugar and bitter cold-press. You're both in work apparel, both refusing to move back. If this is some kind of shovel talk then that's fine, and if it's a test you're determined to pass, even if Eddie's been super weird lately.

"I'll come if you promise not to eat me," you say.

"It's really not that kind of club."

—

"I had the weirdest visit in the entire world today," you declare, stopping in front of Eddie's porch with a smile.

"Yeah?" he asks without looking up, guitar in his lap and pen scribbling over a lined notebook.

You wait for him to stop before you continue, leaning forward with both arms braced on the porch by his feet. "Steve Harrington came to see me, and he was super mean. You said he was nice."

He frowns at you. "I told you he was a dick."

"You like him when you tell me stories."

"How mean?" Eddie asks, patting the seat beside him.

You climb up onto the porch and plop down onto the couch, worn leather cold with the weather and damp in the seams.

You take a strand of his hair and curl it around your finger. "Not really super mean, but he was, like, acting like I killed a baby."

"He's like that."

You sigh and lean your cheek against the couch cushion, watching Eddie's stubble move as he tamps down a teasing smile. "He invited me to a party next weekr."

"It's not a party- Sweetheart, what are you doing?"

You tickle his cheek with the end of his hair. "Nothing."

"M'gonna sneeze."

You tickle him again, fine dark strands brushing over his pale cheek. He's a very ashen guy, you've found. Likely because he barely goes out in the sun and he doesn't eat enough. You draw circles around the apple of his cheek and grin softly at his growing smile, a sweet, silly thing.

"I'll tickle you back," he warns.

"Promise?"

He steals the curl back and tucks it behind his ear.

"You're not a cannibal, are you?"

Eddie chokes on air. You startle at his coughing and move to pat his back, palm slapping a steady rhythm into his shoulder. When he calms down you run your hand down the length of his arm, long sleeve t-shirt soft beneath your touch. You linger at his wrist and decide to hold it.

He drops his pen and your hand travels until he's caught your thumb. He kneads it in his fingers.

"I'm not a cannibal. Why would you think that?"

"I don't, but you and Steve are in your club, right?"

"Hellfire wasn't like that," he says heatedly.

"No, not- Not that one."

He doesn't say anything.

"You have… He has this scar, on his wrist. Like something bit him, or-" He turns to you and he looks formidable and upset and himself, not mad at you but raw emotion in his expression anyhow. It's gone as quick as it came.

"When all that… stuff happened," he begins quietly, "we got hurt. A couple of us."

You drop your head, ashamed at having pried. "I'm sorry, you don't have to tell me anything else."

"Don't be sorry…" He squeezes your hand and lets it go. "Don't worry about it."

"Okay."

"We usually call ourselves a party, these days. Not a club."

"Do you really play board games and drink jiffy pop?"

"Sometimes we get really crazy and order a pizza. You should come."

You realise as he says it how much his wanting you to go had mattered to you. Eddie's your friend, and you don't think that you're going to stay friends much longer.

"You think your friends will like me?" you ask, voice descending to a new kind of gentle.

He puts down his guitar and his notebook. His full attention is something you've come to really enjoy, not because of the hunger you often see flitting across his face — though that's neat —, but because of the inklings of adoration clinging to his smile when he looks at you. His blinking lashes. He smiles at you and just slows. A usually frenetic boy calmed.

"Maybe not Mike. Mike doesn't like anybody. Except for Will," he muses.

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Who do you like?"

"I like all of them." He juts his cheek toward his shoulder, conceding, " I think Dustin's my favourite. He's funny. He's funnier than I am, and he's the smartest kid I've ever met. And he knows it."

Your eyes focus on the pink outline of his upper lip as he speaks. It's a pleasure to be this close, and see him in this kind of crazy detail. When you go home tonight you might try to draw him. You'll probably forget.

It's the kind of smile that deserves to be immortalised.

"I really like your smile," you tell him, hoping it'll last a little longer.

It stretches. The pink outline turns white. "Shut up."

"I do. I've seen a thousand different smiles but I've never met someone who smiles like you do."

"How's that?" he asks, edging toward you, face a mirror in which you can see your own charmed expression.

"Like you," — you shake your head with your lips parted — "know a secret. Something you won't tell anybody."

His smile abruptly ends.

You've nothing if not a talent for saying the wrong thing.

"A good secret," you amend.

He picks up his acoustic and gives it an experimental strum. "Maybe one or two," he agrees.

Relief catches you. You nibble at the inside of your lip and watch his fingers work over the neck of his guitar, tipping your head so you can read the words he's markered over the body.

"This machine slays dragons," you murmur to yourself. "Yeah? How many?"

"Just the one."

"Save any princesses?"

"Not yet." He plucks at the strings, lost in thought, before turning to you with eyebrows raised. "Can you play?"

You exhale out of the corner of your mouth as he pushes the guitar into your lap, an arm coming around your shoulder, the other reaching to guide your curled forefinger to the strings. You turn to face him, watching him talk with a growing fondness.

"It's easy, I swear. We'll do Call Me. Blondie's basic, even a baby could play it."

He realises you aren't listening and raises his gaze, shiny brown irises stuck on your lips. This close, it would be worse if he didn't look at them.

You glance at his, an obvious thing, half a wish. If he only lifted his chin.

Your breath mingles.

"It's easy," he says again, a murmur of his usual volume as his gaze pulls back up to yours. "I'll show you."

You wonder if he can hear your heart pounding; it's deafening. You wait, and you wait, and you turn your eyes back to his guitar and clamp your fingers down against the struts so he can't see them shaking with adrenaline.

—

Eddie sits beside Steve and tries not to admit to himself that Steve Harrington is, horrifyingly, his best friend (along with the rest of the party, obviously). Steve is the closest in age and Eddie can't make excuses (though he tries and tries and tries), Steve understands how much Eddie doesn't ever want to talk about anything that's happened to them, so he talks about literally everything else instead.

"It was the weirdest pawn shop I've ever been in. They had, like, a wall of combi's playing the same video at the same time but all slightly delayed."

Eddie blinks.

Steve turns his head from the TV, having expected a response. "Did you say something?"

"No." Then, because he's not a dick. "Sorry, Harrington. Want me to sit on your other side?"

"What for?" Steve says. Not because he denies how he's hard of hearing, but because he denies having conversations with Eddie.

He does end up moving to Steve's other side with a pathetic excuse. "I can't see the TV."

Steve doesn't say a word until he's sat down again. "Sorry I was mean to your girlfriend."

"Yeah, what was that about?"

"I was cranky because it was early and I don't want her to damage the integrity of the party." He gives equal weight to both reasons.

Eddie snorts at him. "Since when do you care about the integrity of the party?" Steve barely acknowledges that they are a party. He thinks that's a very nerdy way to say friends.

"Since always, dipshit."

"And inviting her to join the party was the solution because…?"

Steve drinks the rest of his coke and pretends to really care about what's on TV. "If," he begins after a minute, refusing to look at Eddie, "something happens with her, and something happens to you, that damages the integrity of the party."

"Steve," Eddie says, jaw dropped down to his chest, "do you have a crush on me?"

"Oh my god," Steve mutters. "Oh my god," he says louder. "I can't stand you."

To prove his point, he gets up from the couch with a wrinkled nose, stops to tap his shoe gently against Max's where she's sitting in the armchair across from the coffee table, and disappears into his kitchen.

Steve Harrington cares about me enough to give Y/N the shovel talk.

He feels kind of great about it.

But he's not sure your the one who needs warning.

That night in the forest, Eddie had almost snapped. There are rules to follow if he wants to keep people safe, self-imposed, Hopper-imposed, and he's broken too many with you already, the most important being no close proximity when he's hungry. Eddie doesn't even realise he is hungry half the time. He'll be standing by you and he'll want to touch you, and suddenly it's like he's three weeks in to the month without sating.

He thinks about kissing you and suddenly he's thinking about biting you, and hurting you, and it's literally tearing him up from the inside out.

How can he want to do that to you?

"You look so depressed and pathetic," Dustin says out of the blue.

Eddie pouts and falls back into the couch, Steve's fancy throw falling onto his shoulder. "I used to like you," he says, taking in Dustin's outfit with a kind of parental approval. He's getting older and it shows, slightly more handsome than he had been — he's kept all his baby weight and it suits him, his full cheeks surrounded by the softest brown curls Eddie has ever seen. The outfit stays immature, a funny t-shirt and ill-fitting pants.

"Sad. You have a sad face," Dustin says.

"Go play with your nerd squad, please."

He doesn't listen, collapsing in Steve's still-warm seat like a cheap tent and crossing longer, thicker arms over his chest. He smiles at Eddie genuinely. "Where's your girlfriend?"

"No."

"Where's Y/N?"

Eddie tips his head so he can see past the coffee table and points to where you're almost hidden, sitting with Robin on the floor by Steve's sideboard. You have a basket of tapes in front of you, the two of you trying to choose what's going in the stereo. Eddie prays for anything but Blondie.

You will most likely choose Blondie.

"What does she like?" Dustin asks curiously.

"Everything, kind of. Why?"

"I wanna know what to say when I talk to her."

Eddie smiles at his friend's face, a soft, surprised thing. "I don't know if she knows anything about the radio but if you're happy about it she'll be happy too. She's a good listener."

Dustin picks at a piece of lint on his t-shirt bearing a white and black print of a dog wearing sunglasses. "So you talk to her?" he asks without looking up.

"I mean, yeah. What else do you do?"

"With a girl that likes you? Huh, let me think." Dustin laughs and ruins his own sarcasm, pointer finger laid against his chin in a show of thoughtfulness.

"It's not like that," Eddie says lightly.

"It could be."

"Could it? I mean… I don't even know if she'll stick around. And I feel bad 'cos I can't be honest with her."

"Why not?"

"Hopper said he would literally put me in the hole if I even thought about it." There's no need to expand. Dustin would know better than anyone what he's talking about.

He cringes at the thought, self hatred a hot poker down his throat. He must've said it to Dustin a hundred times when he finally came around from his coma (that wasn't a coma, but a death, and then a rebirth). I can't believe I put you through that. I can't believe I put you through that. I'm so sorry.

I'm just glad you're alive, Eddie.

And for a while, Eddie hadn't felt the same. The world he'd woken up to was hard. There had been lawyers and grief and guilt and becoming. He doesn't have the words to describe how it feels to become something new, something that needs to hurt people to live, something that will hurt people to live, whether Eddie wants to or not.

The loss of choice is suffocating.

Though moments like this with his friends– they don't make it 'worth it', they're just how it had to happen. There isn't a scenario where Eddie could give up. He can't leave Wayne, and he can't leave Dustin. He can live with the grief of what he is if it means other people don't have to live with grief of what he isn't.

"Eddie, are you okay?"

He's missed something. Dustin isn't the only one looking at him.

He curls a hand around his forearm subconsciously. "I'm fine. I think I'm gonna go to the bathroom, actually. Gotta piss real bad."

"Eddie-"

"I'm fine, Henderson." He puts on a good show, patting Dustin's arm. His heart, usually so slow these days, has enough life in it to ache.

He can't have been in the bathroom for five minutes when somebody knocks on the door aggressively. He's expecting Steve, pissed at his disappearance and likely preparing a speech on attention seeking behaviours and how they're hurting the youth of America, so he opens the door with a tired glare.

He finds you, beaming and pretty, dressed ridiculously nicely for his idiot friends.

"Hi," you say. He can hear something from Blondie's Parallel Lines playing from the living room, familiar because it's your favourite album. "Any room for me?"

Eddie moves back. You close the door behind you. The bathroom becomes a vacuum of your sounds and smells.

"They didn't have any Dio," you say with a smile.

"I honestly wouldn't expect any different."

"You could've brought some tapes, your mix from the van," you suggest. "I love that one."

"Which one?" he asks, and he can't help it, whenever he's with you his voice crops to a dulcet murmur. The urge to speak to you as you speak to him is unconquerable.

"One with the winking smile on the slipcase. I really like it."

"You can have it."

You lean against the sink. "I can?"

"Mm. Whatever you want." Especially when you look like this.

You smile at him, your 'thank you' smile, all sticky fondness and mischievousness. He has no idea what you're thinking.

"'S a small bathroom in a huge house," you marvel. Your voice echoes "Where does he shower?"

"There's an upstairs bathroom."

"Two bathrooms? That's-"

"Audacious?"

"I was gonna say overkill."

Your candidness has him shaking with laughter. He clutches at his sides, arms crossed and leaning forward. You visibly take in his appearance, eyes panning slowly over his clean hair. He'd taken care to look like somebody you might want to look at tonight.

"Why don't you sit down, Eds?" you ask, eyes creased with an unreadable emotion.

Eddie feels blindly for the toilet lid and pushes it down so he can do as you ask, wondering why you're asking.

"You look very handsome today."

He hugs himself. "As opposed to every other day, when I don't?"

You take a step forward, a second, hands playing with the hem of your shirt. Your outfit today is delightfully simple, a pressed black t-shirt long enough to cover the waistband of your pleated skirt. There's an expanse of thigh that makes his heart beat spin out, one longer than the other where your thigh-high is falling down.

He wants to pull it up.

"C'mere," he says.

You take that last step between his shoes and he reaches out, getting his fingertips under the elastic of your sock and tugging it upward over the soft fat of your leg. Your hands come up to his shoulders for balance, and you say, "No, you look handsome every day. Today you look very handsome. I made the distinction."

He covers your thigh with both hands, looking up into your face as you look down. "You look really pretty today," he says boldly, fingers spreading behind your knee.

"Thank you. Do you like my t-shirt?"

It's a screen print of Debbie Harry. Eddie tries not to roll his eyes. "I love it, but your dedication to Blondie is seriously worrying, sweetheart." He gives your leg a short squeeze and pulls the most giggly smile out of you yet.

"Like Madonna."

"No!" he bemoans.

You laugh and grow closer, arms on his shoulder, a hand threaded into his hair. "Cyndi Lauper?" you suggest.

He puts a hand on your waist as you move in for a hug. Your arms wrap around his neck and the tops of his shoulders, cheek crushed to the top of his head.

He'd ask if you were okay if he thought you weren't. You're not upset or seeking comfort. You're affectionate. You've been getting more and more touchy for weeks, as he has. Stolen touches, your almost-kiss on the porch last week.

"No, not Cyndi Lauper," he says, his hand skirting around your back to pull you in properly.

"R.E.M?"

"God, no. Where are you hearing all this junk?"

"The radio."

"Tuned into the wrong station."

You pet the back of his head. "Yeah," you say softly, "I think I was."

The hug is shorter than Eddie wants it to be. You make one of your happy sounds and pull away to get your hands on his face, stroking curls from his cheeks with a protective touch. "Handsome," you say, turning your hand to stroke his cheek with your knuckles. "Pretty. You have really big eyes, Eddie, so brown, and so…" You tilt your head to one side, face inching forward.

He turns his face to suit, to fit, breath held as you close the gap.

"So pretty," you murmur, and kiss him.

His hands are limp and then alive, one clutching your hip, one splaying against your chest. He can hear the thud of your heart clear as day — you're bumping with excitement as you kiss him. It's a delicate, tender thing, the party suddenly far away, the music drowned by the sounds of your breathing. You kiss as you talk, as you move, gentle but with bursts of ardency. Your lips are a blissful heat, the tip of your nose smushing into his as you part your lips over his.

He lifts his chin higher, his neck craned to receive you. He's savouring every movement. Each pause for breath that you take. The feeling of your inhales over his quick-bruising lips.

Your hands play in his hair so sweetly it makes his eyes burn with an embarrassing amount of emotion. He screws them closed and squeezes up your waist, steadying himself as you feel along his bottom lip with the tip of your tongue.

You don't get much further than that, seemingly pleased with your own brazeness or perhaps his touch, eyes glowing with mirth as you pull away.

"Sorry," you breathe, not sorry at all. "You just really looked like someone should be kissing you."

You're flushed. Eddie can practically see the heat emanating off of your cheeks. He can feel it.

He stands up, your pulse a ringing in his ears. The wet valves of your heart opening and closing.

"Eddie?" you ask quietly, lifting your head to meet his eyes as he walks you back into the door.

His gums sting. A click.

It's a compulsion.

His hands curl around your elbows, holding you in place. Your eyes are wide with confusion, your lightly swollen lips parted. He can see the tiniest slip of your pink tongue.

He holds your gaze as he leans in. Your eyelids flutter closed. You wrap your arms around him as he descends, totally trusting.

He's a meaner kiss than you are. He starts slow but swiftly loses a handle on it, kisses short but insistent, hot presses like little crescent moons against your barely open mouth.

His hands move up your arms, a near vice-like grip until he finds your sleeves. His fingers slip underneath, hands hungry for your warmth.

You make the worst sound anyone has ever made as he moves back, like something has been ripped from you. A gutted gasp, near silent.

He placates as he wades back in. Thumbs rubbing your arms, lips mouthing damp kisses down your face. The corner of your pout, the hill of your chin, the skin under your jaw. Your head tips back against the door with an audible thud. You exhale hard.

Eddie can't feel his hands.

Your pulse hammers under his lips. He kisses it once. He can't think. He can't breathe.

"You're always cold," you whisper, your hands drifting lazily under the fabric of his t-shirt. Your fingertips trail up his spine. "But your lips are warm."

He kisses your neck, his lips parting slowly, a hair's width a second as he sucks your skin into his mouth gently. It's barely a kiss. He does it a second time. A third. You start to laugh, a golden sound.

The point of his fangs touch your skin and you stop.

Eddie closes his mouth abruptly. His hand leaps to your neck and he feels your heart skip as he holds you still. "I'm sorry," he says, nose rubbing over the damp spot he's left behind, your teased skin.

Your heart hikes again.

"I'm sorry," he repeats. He pulls away, an agony.

"It's okay," you say. Your breathlessness says otherwise.

Eddie takes as many deep breaths as he can stand, wanting to clear his head and filling it with you instead. Your everything; your smell, your skin. Your limp hands against his back.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asks when he gets a look at you, your unreadable expression. He takes care to keep his head angled down so you can't see the lower half of his face.

"I don't think you could."

You cup his cheek in your hand and he leans into it, his weight against yours.

"I wanted to tell you something," you confess.

"What-" He licks his lips, wincing when his fangs slide into his tongue and scrape grooves across his taste buds. "What was that?"

"I know you…" You pause, fingertips rubbing at his cheek.

Does she know? Eddie thinks, horrified. He hadn't realised how scary waiting could be. A thousand worries condensed into a handful of seconds. Does she know?

How could she not?

You press your palm to his cheek with more insistence. "I don't want you to think you have to hide anything from me. I know you have scars," you say, fingers sliding into the soft baby hair at the back of his neck. "You don't have to cover up. You don't have to cover any of it."

"I won't hurt you," he says, trying to convince himself.

"I know."

You stay a while longer. Eddie's friends pretend that you hadn't been alone in the bathroom for an inordinate amount of time together. You thank them all silently and less so, trying to talk to as many of them as you can.

There's Lucas, who's really, really nice, and his girlfriend Max, who's less so. She gives you an unimpressed look through her thick-lensed glasses, but you compliment her crutches and she comes around.

There's Mike, who actually isn't anywhere as bad as Eddie had described him. He's not frosty or standoffish, he's sweet and he asks questions. There's a girl with him that you don't catch the name of, and a boy on her other side.

There's Dustin, who you adore immediately, Robin, who you adore more, and then there's Steve.

Steve offers you a pretzel like you're more than familiar. He strolls right up to you with a bowl of them in hand and doesn't leave until you've eaten half of them.

There's a couple of people you don't manage to talk to at all, and you feel guilty about it all the way home.

"What if they think I'm rude?" you ask, tired eyes locking onto the stereo system. The time blinks analog in the dark, 12:59AM.

"They don't, don't worry about it. You have lots of time to get to know them, anyway."

You hum and turn to his face, indulgent because you know he can't look back. "You're not too tired to drive, are you?" He's spent. Yesterday had been one of his bad days.

"I'm fine."

"You say that all the time," you observe, dropping your cheek into the passenger seat's headrest.

"I'm fine all the time."

"Liar."

"Nuisance."

You huff a laugh through your nose. The strands of his friendship bracelet, the small beads at the ends, swing like pendulums in the gap between his arm and the steering wheel. You can see the rough skin of a scar creeping out from under his sleeve.

"Mike was really nice," you say.

"He has a bleeding heart."

That feels accurate. "He reminds me of you."

Eddie rolls his eyes. You feel for every detail, the strange tension between you like a gaussian filter over everything. He's gorgeous in a horrific way, heartbreakingly pale, eyes dark as pitch, hands restless. They squeeze alone the wheel, thick fingers curling tight until his knuckles are stark white. Running down the back of his hands are veins like rivers. They're more purple than green.

"Eddie," you say, playful, a tiny bit insecure.

"What?"

"Wanna stay the night?"

His hand moves forward on the wheel like he's revving a motorcycle, the tendon in his wrist rising to the surface. He clenches. "Not sure it's a good idea."

"Just to sleep. It's late."

"I don't know if I can sleep next to you."

You don't wanna say please. You don't want to ask Eddie to do anything he can't or doesn't wanna do.

He pulls up outside of your house with his mind already made up. He gets out of the car and you follow his lead. He locks it, shoves the keys in his pocket as you join him on the path up to your porch.

He's been in here enough times to know what it looks like, but for some reason you find yourself checking his face, worried about what it is he thinks of your things, all your mismatched trinkets, your stained glass lamps, your life as you let yourselves in. He ducks through the beeded curtain into your bedroom wary that they'll get tangled in his hair like they sometimes do.

"Do you wanna call Wayne?" you ask, gesturing to your telephone on the right hand side, nestled between a stack of books and a cup full of coloured pencils.

You pull your knee up to your chest and unlace your shoes one at a time. Eddie punches the number into the phone and holds the receiver to his shoulder to do as you're doing. It takes him less time to pop his sneakers off than for you to get out of yours. He's just taken the phone back into his hand when Wayne picks up.

"Wayne?" he asks softly. "Didn't wake you up, did I?"

You can't hear his response.

"I'm gonna stay with Y/N tonight. Yeah, we had a good time. Yeah…" His eyes drift to you as you peel out of your thigh highs.

"Yeah, I'm still here. What?" He meets your eyes and it feels accidental, because he throws his eyes to your bedsheets and turns his face to the wall. "No," he says firmly.

You scrape together something to wear for bed and some fresh underwear and leave for the bathroom, telling yourself that nothing is gonna happen so don't get your hopes up but not wanting to get caught out if it does. You freshen up, brushing your teeth and washing your face.

You stare at yourself in the mirror and wonder if you should've left your face-powder and your mascara on. Maybe even the skirt. You'd looked nice and pretty for the party. Now you look like yourself, still pretty but without those extra touches. Will he care? Does it matter?

You debate your pyjama pants considerably.

There's a lot happening.

Eddie is… Eddie is something else. He's different, you'd known that for a long time, and his kiss had confirmed it.

He's something out of a science fiction book.

Well, nobody's perfect.

Whatever he is, he'd kissed you. You'd kissed him and he'd responded, he'd come back for more, and now he's sitting in your bed when he could've gone home. You bring your hand to your neck and crane to one side, fingertips poking at your unbroken skin. His hickey's haven't even bruised.

You screw the pants up and drop them into your laundry basket. You take off every piece of jewellery on your person.

"Do you wanna use the bathroom?" you ask from behind the beaded curtain. "I left a new toothbrush for you on the sink."

"Yeah, desperately, I…" He takes you in as you emerge. Fresh-faced, bare-legged. As naked as you've ever been in front of him, physically and otherwise.

Eddie meets you where you're standing. He's ditched his jacket, and for the first time since you met him you can see the full length of his arms.

"You're not wearing your bracelets," he says, looking between your bodies. His hand twitches toward yours.

"You have tattoos," you say.

"They were better, before."

There's a misshapen mess of black splodges near the crook of his elbow broken up by scar tissue. One arm is less scarred than the other, an almost perfect flank of white skin.

"Is that a puppet? He's super spooky."

"Mh-hm."

You bring your hand to his tattoo and feel over the skin. It doesn't feel like it's there. Eddie holds your wrist and the two of you move together, your fingertips stroking up until you're wrapped around his bicep.

Eddie brings his free hand to your collar. His index finger straightens, encouraging your chin up so he can ease forward and kiss you. He's firm, eager, and your lips curl up into a smile underneath it. He turns his head to the right and you fall left, smile worsened when you feel his own start to form.

He nudges your nose. You take it for a telling off and laugh. "Sorry," you apologise, kissing his top lip.

"You're making this difficult," he chides.

Despite any sternness, Eddie loosens his grip on your wrists to slide his fingers between yours, pressing your joined hands to your chest. He leans back down and he's careful, almost methodical in the way he kisses. Chaste pecks, hot and precious as tiny stars.

You reach for his waist.

Eddie kisses you a final time and steps back. "I'll be back," he promises.

You lower your chin, flustered and perplexed by his sudden departure.

Walking around to the right side of the bed, you click on your bedside lamp — a beautiful glass and foiled contraption that throws dainty stripes of stars and hearts over everything close in the dark — before climbing in. You sniff one of your pillows experimentally, trying to remember when you last changed the bed. You decide they're acceptable even if they really smell like your hair oil and flip them around to be safe, plumping them up with your hands.

You've curled up on your side and almost succumb to your fatigue when Eddie returns, bringing with him the smell of spearmint and a fuzzy feeling in your stomach as he shuts off the light and sits on the opposite side of the bed, facing you. The hair around his face is damp with water, baby hair's limp.

"I'm sorry I don't have anything for you to wear, I-" Youre cut off by your own gasp as Eddie kisses you, his hand on your neck, his nose bridge sliding into your own. You hadn't been expecting it, and it's no less dizzying than any other kiss he's given you today.

"It's okay," he murmurs lowly, lips pressed to your lips, "have to wear you, is all."

You huff a laugh into his mouth. "I swear I'm always laughing when I'm with you," you muse as Eddie dedicates himself to your bottom lip. You cup the back of his head. "You're amazing."

Eddie groans and eases back. "I'm not good with words, sweetheart. To tell you how I feel about you."

You push one of your legs toward his knee. "...You can show me."

He shifts in the bed until he can lean over the entirety of your chest, hands cupping your face and lips poised hovering over your own, a millimetre of space between your mouth and his. "Okay," he says quietly.

He dips down. You can feel his bottom lip tremble, and then he's kissing you too hard to feel it anymore. You wrap loose arms around his back.

"Are you sure?" you whisper to him.

He rests his nose against your cheek, eyes closed, drawing the tiniest left to right. "I want you," he reassures.

"And you're okay?"

"Yeah, sweetheart. I'm okay. Do you want to?"

"Yeah. More than anything."

Another loving kiss against your cheek, Eddie moves down, down, down. "Tell me if I do something you don't like," he murmurs, top lip dragging and leaving a line of dampness to the base of your throat.

He adorns the canvas of your neck in half-moon contusions, big hands caressing your shoulders, your chest. You hold your breath as his fingers pass over your nipple, fighting to keep in any embarrassing sounds.

Eddie disagrees with his plan of action. You shiver as he brings his lips to a close and his bottom teeth scrape upward, as he pulls his head up and says, "C'mon, angel, breathe."

He follows his command with a manipulative touch, a circle over your nipple that makes you shudder. He kisses you and it feels like a thank you, pressure, a heat as his palm smooths over the bump of your tummy to your thighs. He squeezes the outside of one and for a while you can kiss him back, and then he pulls your thighs apart and you break away. Eddie follows, kisses you even when your reciprocation is weak.

He pushes your thigh flat to the bed.

You feel the heat of your excitement start to grow. Your stomach aches with the want to be touched.

"You're like a space heater, you're that warm," Eddie says, hand coasting down the inside of your thigh. He squeezes until fat melds under his fingers. "Are you scared?"

His whispering in your ear, his hand as close as it is to where you want it, it winds you up like a coil. You sigh as his thumb strokes the edge of your panties, sound coloured by an awful, devouring desire.

His face presses further into yours in reaction.

His touch is like the tide. He wades in, away. His thumb strokes inward over something soft and then his whole hand moves back to your thigh.

"Teasing," you utter.

"A little… Why, is there something you want me to do?"

His clueless whispering is infuriating and exciting at the same time. Your heart races and you can't discern if it's more lust or love.

"Touch me," you plead, pouting, knowing he's a pushover.

Anticipation stabs like a needle in your tummy as he slides his palm over your cunt completely. He rubs a careful, almost casual rhythm into your panties with the breadth of his fingers, lips kissing a lazy stripe up to your forehead, where he rests his face. You both watch his hand move past the valley of your rising chest.

"M'gonna pull these off, yeah?" He sits up, fingers pushing under the sides. "Lift your- yeah, thank you, sweetheart."

You buzz with his pet names, his soft voice, the feeling of your panties sliding up to your knees and his gentle exhale. You swear you can feel it fan over your slit. "Shit…" he moan, pulling at your spread cunt.

He looks like he's in pain, eyebrows pinched together and murmuring curses as he circles the wetness gathered at your entrance. You turn your head searchingly as he starts to ease his index finger inside your heat, a gentle probing.

One becomes two. He muffles your sighing with firm kisses, amorous praises, "That's it, baby, relax," as he works you open, fingers wet with slickness but not enough. He changes his position, pushing his middle and marriage finger inside and curving as his thumb slides up your slit looking for the bead of your clit.

Slow, slow circles. "There, huh?"

You shiver as he pushes in deeper, fingers as far as they can go. He spreads them wide, drops reassuring kisses all over your face when you keen. It's so new to have him kiss you at all, and to have him touching you — you're melting into nothing right there in his hold.

"I got you. Tell me if it hurts, okay?"

"Want you to- I want you to fuck me," you murmur, arms wrapping around him so you can hide your face in his neck.

"Fuck. Fuck, baby. Gonna fuck you just as soon as I can fit," he murmurs back, sinking three of his thick fingers into your snug cunt. He pulls wetness out with every thrust, a line of slick dribbling down onto the sheets underneath. He wipes it upward and pushes it back inside, his chest heaving. "Y'so tight, gotta take my time. Take our time." He rubs his nose against your head until he can kiss the highest point of your cheek. "Make sure you can take it."

"I can."

It doesn't bear repeating how quietly you're speaking, a mouthing inaudible under the wet, rhythmic thud of Eddie's pinky finger slapping your sticky cunt as he ups the pace of his finger-fucking.

"I don't think so," he coos, pulling his fingers from your cunt and making a show of spreading them wide. Your slick ribbons between them, almost invisible in the dark. "Ruin your sheets before any of that, maybe."

Eddie sits up and gets his hands under your armpits. You laugh as he tugs you up so your shoulders are on top of the pillows, but you don't have time to be confused. He quickly moves to kneel at your feet and pulls your leg over his shoulder, your back lifting unevenly from the sheets.

He starts with a sweet kiss pressed to the skin closest to his mouth, your lower thigh, and then works his way up, open mouthed, barely kisses at all until his hair whispers against your sensitive cunt and he's nipping at the stripe of skin between your thigh and the place where you most want his attention.

"Pretty," he says into your damp skin, lips shining. You reach down to stroke his hair behind his ears, worried he's gonna get it dirty.

He looks at you from between your thighs, his eyes dark in the dim light, their lashes long and soft where the outermost flutter into your skin. He's lovely.

He holds your gaze as he pulls back to your inner thigh. "Pretty everywhere," he says salaciously.

His lips part over your skin and you think he might bite you, a bruising hickey, but he pushes you down flat to the bed by your hips and kisses your clit, a simple kiss. Your fingers weave deeper into his hair. Your fingernails scratch lightly against his scalp, every tiny lick or kiss reflected in the minute tightening of your hands.

He goes slow, mouths down, kisses wetter and wetter as he reaches your entrance. "Poor girl," he murmurs, hands pulled down to further scandalise. He sinks two fingers inside and laughs into your cunt. You squirm.

"What happened? You're dripping on my fingers." Your thighs draw closed around his head as he curls his fingers against a soft spot.

"Eddie, can you-" You swallow. "Please. Please."

He pries your thighs open and rubs them soothingly, lapping at the heat of your cunt in face of your pleading. His tongue appears broad and flat up the centre of you until he's kissing on your clit, fingers pumping in rhythm. Your fingers work into his hair and he groans, the vibration enough to make you whimper under his mouth.

He laps at your clit messily and you tip your head back, breath coming in tight pants. You don't know what you say, only how you say it, desperate "please,"s and keening "Eddie,"s.

His thrusts grow in enthusiasm, fingers rubbing eagerly against something sweet. You pull your legs up and nudge his face to your cunt insistently, thigh shaking as you hold it up. Eddie doesn't need any more encouragement, his pretty pink lips suckling at your clit until you see stars. You make a pained little sound and try to move away from his kissing, startled at the intensity of your high.

Eddie lets your clit pop out of his mouth with a lewd, slick sound, his hands moving under your thighs and pulling you closer. "Good girl," he says, rubbing his wet face against the inside of your thigh. He inhales hard as you are, though he pauses to kiss your kneecap and pat your leg. "Good girl, sweetheart."

"I'm sorry," you say breathlessly, hands pulling his hair from his face. Pleasure rolls through you in hot waves.

"For what?"

"Tugging on your hair," you explain, shoulder pulled up to your cheek.

Eddie kisses your tummy lovingly and climbs on top of you to do the same just under your chin. "It’s okay, sweetheart, I like that shit. That was good, huh?" he asks, lips dropping down to yours all wet and warm.

He's not bragging, he's genuinely asking.

You nod into his kiss, your hands coming up to his sides. You swear your ears perk up as he unzips his jeans and eases them down, a hand disappearing into the mess of fabric. He moans quietly at the first touch.

You move his hair out of the way to watch. Eddie tugs at the length of his cock with a cruel hand, a short dribble of pearly precum sobbing down the tip and under his fingers. He spreads it as it goes, the slickness emphasising the ridges and veins of his cock. You can see it throb, if you look close enough.

He sits back and eases his jeans and boxers down enough to reveal a thatch of curls that brush his hand with every pump downward.

"You okay?" he asks, smirking.

You pull your shirt over your head and your chest warms at his adoring smile. "Will you take off yours?"

He doesn't hesitate like you worried he might. He sheds his t-shirt, pulling the fabric over the back of his head and dumping it off the side of the bed.

You take in his chest and it's abundance of ragged scarring still purpled with newness. He has a tattoo over his heart, a black whorl of legs and eyes. Fine dark hair crawls from the middle of his chest down his navel, joining with the thatch of coiled hair surrounding his aching cock. You shuffle forward and wait with two tentative hands held aloft until he says, "It's okay," before you touch him. You run your hands down the soft slopes of his waist.

"Does it hurt?"

"Not anymore."

"Can I kiss it?"

He snorts. "Prefer you kiss something else."

That really makes you laugh. You dot a kiss against his jaw and can't make yourself stop, dropping them all the way to the skin behind his ear. Your hand creeps lower as you go, held to the curve of his tummy. His skin is hot to touch the lower you go, and his stomach feels solid, a heaviness you know all too well.

"Can I touch you?" you whisper into his ear.

"Please."

You drop your forehead against his chest and he brings his hand up to cup the back of your head. His cock pulses as you wrap your hand around it, skin smooth and slick as you palm slowly up and down. You watch in awe as a bead of precum wells at the tip, Eddie's rough breathing loud overhead.

"Lie down, Y/N," he says, hand moving behind your naked shoulders.

"What way?"

"How do you want it, sweetheart? We'll do it whatever way you want."

You think about it. Whatever way you want. No matter how indulgent, you know he means it.

"Will you spoon me?"

He pushes you gently and follows behind, dragging your body into his front and angling your hips, cock hot and prodding your back. He gets his hand under your knee and pulls it up, splaying your cunt. You jump in surprise as he pushes his cock through your folds, tip rubbing against the still sensitive bead of your clit.

Eddie wraps his arms around you, hugging you from behind. "You wanna put it in for me, baby?"

You reach between your bodies and take his sticky cock into your hand, shifting until the head nudges against your hole. He sinks in inch by inch, arms tightening around your waist and grinding you down onto his cock until you're whimpering.

You grab at his arms with your hands and tether yourself to him as he starts to rock his hips, his thrusting tender and his face turned into your neck.

He presses his hand flat to your abdomen, an anchoring point as he moulds your weepy cunt around his length, each slovenly movement into your heat spreading you that little bit wider.

"Fuck," he says finally, sounding seconds from a black out. "Oh, fuck- You're tight. Gonna fuck you open slow, okay?"

You're pretty sure you'd let him do just about anything. You bring his hand to your mouth and kiss every white knuckle, every freckle you can see on the back, and when he bottoms out your cover your lips with his stolen hand to smother a tearful gasp.

Eddie's thrusts are spearing in their steady rhythm, a dirty slap ringing with every punching thrust forward. You curl in on yourself and hide your mouth in the sheets, wet pants smothered by fabric. Eddie's grip falls to your hip, where he pulls your body back and forces your cunt open even deeper.

His cock pushes into your sweet spot sudden and emphatic. You moan and he stills, rutting into that same space without pulling out until you're babbling his name, body knocked forward with every thrust.

Eddie turns your face toward him as much as he can without hurting your neck, your moans echoing in time with each thrust. "There you go," he says, "wanna hear how good it feels."

If he cares that you can't answer him he doesn't show it, arm coming up under you arm to grasp at your chest, your breaststroke soft and aching under his hand as he squeezes tenderly. His cock kisses at the sweet spot inside you intermittently; you're dizzy with it.

Eddie can't keep quiet either, his moans breathy, his breath hissing between his teeth when you clamp down around him. "Fuck," he begs, dragging his cock out of your heat, "fuck, Y/N."

He says your name like the syllables alone are appraising.

You can tell when it gets too much for him. He slows. His face drops into your shoulder, and he matches his pace to the wet kisses he leaves behind. Your wetness feels stickying, each of his thrusts snug.

His breath hitches, ragged pants accompanying every slow push of his hips. "Where's my girl?" he asks, eyes still closed as his hand abandons where it'd been squeezing the bump of your tummy to search further downward, fingers disappearing into your folds, short curls wet with slick. He can't find any purchase. You roll your hips, chase his touch and the pleasure that comes with it.

He groans into your shoulder. It sounds more pain than pleasure.

"Are you okay?" you ask, trying to turn in his arms. He holds you in place. "Eddie?"

"Yeah, fuck, I'm okay." He grinds up into your cunt. "Fuck, you're perfect."

"Will you kiss me?"

He does. It's nowhere near the bruising press you'd wanted. It's too careful.

"Listen," he murmurs, "I'm gonna get you on your front, okay? Gonna make you feel so good," he promises, waiting for you to nod before he pushes your shoulder away from him and climbs up behind you. You lay flat on your stomach and Eddie settles on your thighs, a heavy weight.

He pushes into your cunt with two fingers first, the new position allowing for a new pleasure. He pumps in and out and swaps his fingers for his cock quickly after, bearing the full weight of his body into your back as sinks to the hilt.

You both moan in time, hands fisted in the sheets.

He kisses your neck, lips parted, and his teeth feel so sharp that your heart sinks as it had in the bathroom.

"Eddie-" you start.

He pulls away, stops every movement.

"Eddie," you say again. What are you supposed to say? You both know what he is.

There's a lull where neither of you knows what to do filled by your too-fast breathing.

"I won't hurt you," he says, hands rubbing up the length of your back and then under. He holds a hand over your heart. He drops his lips to your back. "Do you want me to stop?"

He must feel your pulse calm under his touch, but he still asks again when you don't answer. "Do you want me to stop? It's okay if you do. You're okay, baby, I promise."

You steal a pillow from against the headboard and rise up on elbows. Your admission comes weak but completely honest. "Fuck me, Eddie, please... I want you. I want you-" Your murmuring's interrupted by a sharp breath as Eddie starts to move again, the head of his cock pushing into your cunt, a slick, perfect feeling.

He moans from the back of his throat as his cock pushes into you again and again, hips smacking the dough of your ass as his pace quickens. You hug your pillow tightly, tears popping up in the corners as he ruts deep.

"Being so good for me," he groans, clamped down on your hip with a vice-like grip. "Fuck, you feel so good. Fucking clinging to me every time I pull out, baby, Christ." His blasphemy is punctuated by a thrust that has you sliding up the bed, sheets wrinkling under your arms. You spread your thighs and wetness pools at your clit as his pelvis thrusts into you, driving pleasure so deeply it aches in your hips.

You moan pathetically and reach back to hold his hand, wiggling your fingers. He takes it in one and presses your arm against your lower back with the other, struggling to maintain a steady pace as he gets close to cumming. You're a babbling stream of sounds as he fucks in deep, swollen sweet spot tapped against mercilessly.

He throws himself back on his haunches, cock dragged out of your heat.

You pull your legs out from underneath him and curl onto your side to watch, eyes wide as white spurts of pearlescence jump out of the head of his reddened cock and drip down the bumps of his fingers. He leans back, his stomach and thighs tensed with every pump.

He groans through a smile, moan's coloured by a happy, relieved laughter. "F-uck," he drags, fisting his cock dry.

He meets your eyes as the last of it slides down onto his stomach.

You smile softly. "Fuck," you mumble.

Eddie wipes his hand in his jeans like a fucking hooligan and tucks his cock back into his boxers with a wince, and then he collapses on top of you. He's sort of nice about it, his arm over your shoulder and his face behind your ear.

"Fucking beautiful," he praises, dropping his head back on the bed so you're face to face. "You're so fucking pretty. So perfect." He kisses you. "You're perfect," he repeats, staring intently into your eyes.

You pull a hand from between your legs, smelling of sex. Eddie literally couldn't care less if he tried, and he lets you take his face into your hand without complaint.

He gets his arm under your arm and starts to rub your back. "You want me to take care of you again?" he asks, eyebrows raised gently. "Yeah?"

And you would let him, you would, but you need to see them for yourself.

You touch your index fingertip to his lip.

"Can I see?" you ask.

He loses his boisterous joy, tamps it down. He realises that he can't lie, that he hasn't been lying, and he nods. You tremble as you pull his lip up over his canine tooth, excited and scared.

A sharp, exceptionally white tooth pokes out of Eddie's gums. You're taken aback, though you'd known exactly what you'd find.

A fang.

Blood oozes at the gums.

"You're bleeding," you worry aloud, touching your finger to the dark beading at the base of his tooth.

Eddie's eyes rove over your face thoughtfully. He pulls your hand away from his lip and sets it on his neck instead. "They always do that. The gum heals, breaks when they wanna come out."

"How often do they come out?"

"A lot more since I met you. Whenever my adrenaline spikes, they seem to think it's… feeding time."

That is a dizzying thing to learn.

You're not sure how you feel, but you know one thing: he's Eddie. "It's too bad," you say, forcing a lightness that turns real more easily than you expect. "I really want to kiss you right now."

He strokes your cheek with his thumb. "I really wanna kiss you too. Maybe a small one?"

You find yourself leaning forward, unafraid.

He kisses you once, twice, three times, the two of you holding each other's faces and covered in mess. Slick and sweat and blood. The hearts and stars from your lamp spray over his hip and paint him with pinks, greens, oranges, a rainbow cutting over his trim waist. You rest your hand overtop, feel his keloid scars like hills under your fingers.

"My boyfriend's a vampire," you mutter, bemused at fate.

Eddie blinks at you. "I'm your boyfriend?"

"Yeah, I think so. Don't you?"

Eddie pulls you into his chest and doesn't let you go for a long, long time.

Your first time watching a blood sate is weird.

For one, Chief Hopper is firmly against it. He's got his kid with him, the boy from the party that Mike had been so heavily doting on, and if he didn't you might think he was a pretty scary guy.

"I think this is stupid," the chief says plainly. "I think this is stupid, I think you're stupid," — he points at Eddie where he's sitting sickly in the round couch — "and I think you're plain crazy, kid." He points at you last.

You beam at him. "People have said that about me."

His kid laughs.

"Will," Hopper says tiredly, "go sit in the car."

"Look, Chief, I know I messed up, okay, but she kind of stuck her hand in my mouth and I didn't really have a choice."

Wayne looks at you with new eyes. "You did?"

You nod at him faux-seriously.

"And what gave her the inkling that you might have had something in your mouth worth looking at?" Hopper says, which is hilarious. You laugh behind your hand.

He gives you a disapproving look that you completely ignore. If you'd taken notice of disapproval you would've stopped having this much fun years ago.

"Uh, well, she might have… felt them?" His pitch rises.

Hopper looks like he's about to blow a gasket when Will says, "What was he supposed to do? Never talk to anyone new ever again?"

"He did a lot more than just talk to me," you say. There'd been a fixed bike, phone calls, lots of sandwiches, bug hunts, an entire sketchbook full of drawings.

"I told you to wait in the car," Hopper says.

Will grins and raises his hands in surrender. "Bye," he mouths. You wave.

Hopper waits for the door to close before he continues. "I get it, when you're a teenager you think your hormones are the end of the world-"

"I'm almost twenty three."

Hopper pinches his hand closed. "But you do not understand the danger that you are creating here."

"Like a stake-ing," you whisper, very very quietly. Eddie's the only one who can hear you, and he laughs so hard he snorts.

"I'm glad you find this funny." Hopper's tone could not imply the opposite any more.

He hands Wayne a paper bag that audibly sloshes and stalks out, his anger a palpable cloud of steam rising off of his shoulders. Eddie seizes up beside you at the sound, lips parting as his fangs come through. You don't touch him because you value your blood inside your body, only slide away from him and smile. "You okay, handsome?"

"Kid, maybe the chief is right. We don't know how Eds is gonna act with you here," Wayne says.

You nod respectfully. You like Wayne, and he knows about all of this stuff more than you ever could.

"No," Eddie mumbles, putting his hand out for you across the couch.

You take it without thinking.

Wayne sighs. You can hear him grumbling as he disappears from view into the kitchen and puts a pot on the stove. There's the sound of a bag being punctured with a knife, a wet slosh. Eddie's grip on your hand tightens.

You're still fascinated that he even drinks blood in the first place. That's wickedly sickening. Wicked, because it's cool that he's a vampire, with his impressive hearing, senses and smell. But sickening, because if you had to drink a pint of blood every couple of weeks you'd throw up.

"I read about a new blood-sucker."

Eddie raises his heavy head. "Another bug?"

"No, a finch! A vampire finch. They're really pretty, Teddy. They're small and brown with long beaks and they drink blood because there's barely any water on their island." You give him a loving smile. "They aren't parasites. S'just how they had to change to survive."

He squeezes your hand, this time on purpose.

"Are you gonna come and have it in here, Eddie?" Wayne asks, one last shot at separating the two of you.

"I'm okay," he says loudly. His eyes trace your smile. "Really."

It can't be fun to have two people watch you drink a warm mug of blood, but Eddie finds it funny. He keeps laughing every time he brings the rim of the glass to his mouth.

"I can't do it if you're looking at me," he says.

Wayne rolls his eyes and looks away. You cover your face with both hands and part your fingers to spy on him through the gaps. He makes it look easy, draining the mug basically in one long pull, though his hunger turns violent as the cup empties. He chokes. Blood trickles down from one corner of his mouth.

You automatically want to reach over and wipe it away. Wayne grabs your arm before you can and gives you a fatherly look that says, I wouldn't do that if I were you.

"Shit," Eddie says, slamming his now empty mug down on the coffee table. It makes a grating sound like a ground mortar and pestle. He sits as far back on the couch cushions as he can, nausea clear on his face.

"Deep breath," Wayne says.

"Fuck, Wayne."

"You're aces. Deep breaths."

Your heart hurts watching Eddie like this. He covers his mouth with eyes closed tightly and breathes hard through his nose. Already there's colour coming back into his face, not a lot but anything is an improvement. He'd been practically grey.

When Eddie pulls his hand from his mouth blood has spread over his lips and jaw. Your eyes widen.

"I'll get the shower running," Wayne says, slapping his knees as he stands. He stops before the hallway. "Good job, Eddie."

The boy in question slouches into a ball on the sofa and nods into a cushion. You wait for the sound of Wayne pulling the shower cord that turns on the hot water before you stand up, head tipped to one side.

"You okay, handsome?".

"Tired."

"You want a hug from me?"

"Is anyone else offering?" He opens one eye to peek at you and grins at your distraught expression. "I'm joking, I'm kidding. C'mere, before I start bawling." You sit and then flop onto your side, pulling your legs up next to his. "Such a frowny face." His voice is adorably tired.

"Better than yours. You look like someone from Night of the Living Dead, baby."

Eddie's arm lies limp like a dead fish over your waist. "Lemme nibble on your brains," he says, words thick as dark honey, eyes closed. "Just a snack."

You're waiting for someone to pull the rug out from under your feet. No way your boyfriend, your cries at the end of every movie, brings you flowers because he felt like it, won't step on cracks in the sidewalk boyfriend just skulled a glass of O-negative like it was a milkshake.

You feel guilty as soon as you think about it. He's not confined to all his softest parts and he never will be. He's snarky and angry and loud. He plays guitar like a real rockstar and he doesn't take anyone's shit. He's a survivor. A glass of blood every now and then was never gonna stop him.

You keep wondering if you should let him suck your blood. It could be hot. It could also probably be the worst idea ever, a relationship faux pas up there with proposing after a month or saying I love you on the first date.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks.

You brush the hair out of his eyes with your ring finger. "Embarrassing relationship fumbles."

"Oh yeah? Like letting your girlfriend watch you drink human blood from a mug shaped like Woodstock?"

"Least it wasn't Snoopy."

"God forbid."

"Is it always like this?" You stroke your hand down his face and rub along his jaw with your thumb. "D'you always get sleepy?"

"Yeah." He turns his face so your hand covers his mouth.

You've stopped wearing silver jewellery, your wrists bare besides the endearingly awful friendship bracelet he's constructed for you. Not a friendship bracelet, he'd corrected. You're not kissing other friends, are you? Because that's really gonna put a downer on this whole thing.

You dip your forehead to his chin and the two of you lay there in silence. You can smell blood, a thick, metallic stick permeating every corner of the room. It's especially strong between the both of you.

"Do you wanna bite me right now?" you inquire without opening your eyes.

"Not really. Blood sate kicks in quickly. It's the worst for, like, the first ten seconds after. Now I wanna sleep, but Wayne's gonna make me shower."

"Maybe I can shower with you."

"I'm sure he'd jump for joy if you suggest it."

"Really?"

Eddie kisses your hand. "No," he says with a giddy laugh.

"I'll pretend I'm gonna sit on the toilet. Keep watch."

"How will you stop your hair from getting wet?"

"I'll lean out."

Eddie laughs even more than he had been, peeling laughter that warms you from the inside out as he kisses your hand again. "That'll definitely work."

Wayne clears his throat.

"Shower's hot. I'm going out. For an hour." Eddie perks up. His uncle looks him dead in the eye. "Don't make me regret this."

And while Wayne had been under the impression you and Eddie were gonna have some grown up fun together in the shower, what you really do is an innocent act of affection: you wash Eddie's hair.

"You have to lean your head back," you chide.

"I am."

"More than that."

"There's no room."

You're lucky you both fit. You're freezing standing behind Eddie, the only relief the warm water that trickles down from your hands to your elbows as you draw circles in his scalp, working the shampoo into a fine lather.

"How did you get blood here?" you ask, scratching rusty flakes from the hair behind his ear.

"I don't know. It gets everywhere. Like eyeshadow."

You push your chin over his shoulder. "You wear eyeshadow?"

"For shows."

"Really?"

"Is it hard to believe?"

You encourage his head under the water and rake your hands through his curls, encouraging the soapy water down to the ends with patient hands. "Lip gloss too? Hey, can I do your makeup?"

"Maybe tomorrow," he bargains. While the shower has helped to wake him up, lethargy remains thick and unshakeable as adamant.

You kiss the wet ridge of his shoulder blade, picturing his pretty face decked out in dark liners and sticky balm. "Thank you."

"I haven't worn any in a long time. Haven't played a show in a really long time."

You wring the water out of his hair and search in the steam for his conditioner. It's mostly empty. "You could put on a show for me. I never got to see you play," you say, shaking it really hard. A dollop collects in your hand and you work the dregs through the ends of his long hair.

"You want that?"

"I think you're the best guitar player in the world."

You're not joking. He's the best, and he plays guitar. And he's pretty good, semantics aside. You love sitting out on the porch with him and listening to him play old rock songs off the top of his head. You could watch his hands move over the strings for hours.

"If that's the case, I can definitely put on a show. Make-up, costume, stage dives. The whole nine yards. Anything for my girl."

You roll the ends of his hair between two coated palms and step back. "There. You have to let it soak in for a couple of minutes."

Eddie turns with a grin, angling his chest and hair forward, away from the stream.

"Whatever will we do?"

You wipe an escaped streak of blood off of his bottom lip and smile. "I have no idea."

You kiss. Eddie leans down and you move up, damp noses glancing off of each other. You're used to short kisses, never enough to make his heart race in case it prompts an unnecessary appearance of his fangs, so when Eddie encourages your lips apart to wade in deeper you pull back questioningly.

"Blood sate. I'm 'sated'. They won't come out."

Your jaw drops. "For real?"

He shakes his head with a pleased smile. "For real. Kiss me sick, sweetheart."

You throw your arm around his neck and drag his face to yours, kissing with an ardency that both surprises and amuses him. He laughs into your open mouth until suddenly he's not laughing at all, only breathing, pushing against you with the same urgent force and the same adoring smile.

"Does this mean you can give me a hickey?" you ask enthusiastically. Eddie has yet to give you a proper love bite.

He leans back under the show spray and pulls you in with him, laughing when you dissolve like rice paper in his arms, finally warm. There's never been a sweeter sound.

/\^._.^/\

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ilovetoxicfictionalmen · 20 days

Text

WHIPPED

Pairing - Tommy Shelby x fem!reader

Summary - You strain from your husband who will not give you attention. He doesn't like that.

Warnings - NONCON, domestic violence, dub con, manipulative, belt whipping, spanking, tommy is mean, degrading words, breeding kink.

Word count - 3k+

Notes - You voted, you received.

Something in Tommy’s intellect changed overnight. Every once in a while, his mind would travel back in time to the war. But now, when he awoke from his nightmares, he still felt like he was crawling through the tunnels. The hairs on the back of his neck stuck up more frequently, his hand rested on his gun a lot. Feeling too skeptical that he’d need to fire it at any second.

It had impacted your newly wedded marriage, but you didn’t dare to say anything to him. You showed you cared by holding him a little tighter at night. Whilst he laid on the bed like a stone figure, staring up into the ceiling as he refused to fall asleep.

The sex had turned emotionless like flowers dying without water. The intimacy was dead. It made you down in the mouth and filled your heart with despair. You only wanted to kiss him, talk to him, be held by him. But he had forgotten who you were.

Over the weeks, your sadness turned into anger. You refused to be upset by his neglect any longer. So, you found other ways to find pleasure in your life and quickly realized that the only way to get your husband’s attention was jealousy. It frustrated Tommy when you started to ignore his presence, venture out without informing him and associating with his family more than him. Tommy would lecture you, wagging his finger at you. You’d only simply nod your head, awaiting for it to be over. Then it would repeat all over again. But Tommy’s mind was too caught up in his business to find the time to truly teach you a lesson.

Until now, the surprisingly last straw was Arthur whispering something into your ear, resulting in you playfully slapping his shoulder and giggling like a teenager. Tommy’s head snapped to you two, everyone in the reading room still watching Tommy as he awaited for you to acknowledge him.

After a pause, you finally looked up to Tommy and the stare off commenced. Your eyebrows were furrowed as Tommy’s eyes twitched, he knew you had never been unfaithful. But his mind was now racing with thoughts of the possibility occurring if he didn’t put a stop to his behavior.

“Well, we will have a break. It seems that my wife has forgotten her manners and I must reteach them…” Tommy declared confidently as he lit another cigarette between his cold lips.

All heads snapped towards you and Arthur’s face turned beet red.

“Thomas” you sighed as you pressed your hand to your forehead, cheeks turning a shade darker from embarrassment.

Any other time, Tommy adored it when you called him by his full name. But this time, he felt as if you were challenging him, trying to humiliate him in front of his family. Tommy took three large strides towards the door and motioned for you to exit in an exaggerated manner. When you merely continued to stare back at him dully he snapped.

“Get the fuck up!” Tommy raised his voice, causing everyone in the room to flinch.

Tommy’s eyes were strained, a vein popped out of his forehead as his hands formed to fists.

“Tommy” Arthur protested, leaning forward in his seat.

Arthur was always so loyal to Tommy, but grew to be highly protective of you. He was prepared to cop the fire instead, take a beating if he had to. It was his doings anyways, not yours.

“It’s alright Arthur” you soothed his guilty look, looking confident even though your heart was pounding in shock at your husband’s outburst.

Tommy saw red when you reassuringly pressed your hand to his chest. Without waiting any longer he marched towards you. You jumped up from your seat before he could yank you up. But he still latched onto your bicep and pulled you out of the room with no care as you winced from his hold.

“Tommy… You’re hurting me!” You cried as he pulled you up the stairs.

There was no answer from him. Only the sounds of grunts through his hard expression as he led you to the bedroom. Shoving you into the room, Tommy slammed the door shut and stomped around in circles, his hand tugging at his roots as he heard the shouts and cries of his fallen fellow soldiers. Your arms crossed over your chest, a frustrated expression set on your face by glue.

“Thomas you’re being dramatic” you pointed out, shaking your head at his behavior. The embarrassment had drenched you completely, he was too furious to notice how awful he had made the situation.

Tommy’s head shot towards you and he glared at you.

“Pardon? You parading yourself around my brother in front of my entire family is nothing more than me being dramatic!” Tommy roared as he marched towards you. “Why don’t you fucking respect me!” Tommy yelled, his pale skin now red as he grabbed onto your shoulders in a warning touch.

His anger spattered onto you as you felt your chest tighten, you scoffed at his words, not intimidated by his hold on you. “Oh calm down Thomas!” You hissed at your husband.

You fell to the fall before the pain even shot from your cheek. Before the redness even grew on your timid skin. You choked out in shock as you raised your hand to the burning sensation on your cheek. The back of Tommy's hand was still positioned in the air from where he hit you. Tommy had never hit you before, he had vowed to never do it.

“Don’t tell me to fucking calm down” Tommy growled.

Swiftly, he bent down to yank you back up to your feet. When you struggled against his hold and tried to smack him away he hit you again with the front of his hand this time. Then he hit the other cheek just as hard. You screamed out in fear but his hand was swift to smack over your mouth.

“Who do you fucking think you are? Huh! You wear my name! You’re in my house!” Tommy lectured, shaking you around like a ragdoll before he shoved you back to the ground.

Tommy went back to walking around in circles, his hand roughly massaged his chin as he wondered what to do with you. His disobedient wife. You laid on the floor, frozen in fear as you stared at his polished shoes twirling around the room. With your hands pressed against your stinging cheeks, tears shedded from your aching eyes. Your sobs were silent and rough.

A heavy sigh left his lips as he looked down to you. Slowly, he undid his belt and slipped it out of the loops of his pants and folded it in half. Tommy fell back onto the brown leather armchair in the corner of the room and lightly slapped his belt against his knee.

“Come here, lay over my knee my darling…” Tommy spoke in a soothing voice, but had a wicked grin on his lips.

You looked up at him with fearful eyes, then your stare was stuck on his belt slapping against his pants. Knowing his intentions, you whimpered out pathetically and shook your head against the floor.

“N-no” you objected weakly.

“It wasn’t an offer” Tommy grunted, he leaned towards you, the grip on the leather tightened. “Do it before I show you how strong my foot is” Tommy warned, tapping his foot impatiently.

It took you a moment to get up, you were too busy having a little silent breakdown as you whined at his response. The smirk on his lips grew larger as he watched you gradually crawl towards him, wincing to yourself as you climbed up onto his lap and laid stiff on top of him.

Tommy sighed as he pulled up your dress, his hand rubbed your ass briefly before he yanked down your panties to your knees. The leather brushed over your backside and you gripped onto his leg in fear as you sobbed quietly.

“You seemed to have mistaken my kindness for weakness, my darling. I have no problem with showing you my ruthlessness, the many tales you heard of me before we had even met” Tommy explained as he dragged the belt all over your skin.

“You’re scaring me Tommy” you sniffled out.

The inside of your throat felt swollen and your chest ached. A harsh slap with the belt landed on your rear. It caused your panicky yelp to echo throughout the room. When you tried to impulsively wiggle yourself off of him he smacked you again with the leather.

“You’ve lost your privileges to address me by my first name, correct yourself right now!” Tommy ordered, his hold on his belt tight as his free hand went around your back to keep you trapped.

“Tom-uh Mr Shelby?” You answered unsurely, your expression wincing as your shoulders raised.

“Good girl!” Tommy praised as the belt smacked against your rear again.

You chortled out as he continued on with your punishment. Quickly, you lost count with how many times he hit you as he flicked his wrist in a haphazardly manner. Sometimes he’d focus purely on one cheek. Or do slow and heavy smacks across every inch of your skin. Then he’d do quick stings across your rear.

“Please stop!” you begged, your voice dry and weak, your mouth pressed against his knee as you tried to muffle out your cries.

“Aw, my darling can’t take it anymore eh?” Tommy chuckled.

He dropped the belt onto your back and rubbed your tender backside with his bare hand roughly.

“Please I love you Tommy!” you exhorted, desperately hoping this would ease his suspicions.

The screech was piercing when he smacked your bruised skin wickedly with his palm.

“Correct yourself, whore” Tommy spat.

‘Ah! I love you Mr Shelby” you sobbed out.

Your head fell back down to his knee, your teeth bit into his leg to silence yourself but he didn't mind. Surprisingly, the pain felt nice to him.

“That’s a good girl…” Tommy grinned, rubbing your ass again roughly as if he was praising you. “I’m going to beat your ass beyond breaking point. Then I’ll know you’ve learnt your lesson” Tommy addressed.

“No Mr Shelby please! I understand!” You protested as you squirmed over him. Tommy was quick to hold you on top of him as you tried to swing your body onto the floor. “Please forgive me! I won’t do it again!” You pleaded as you tried to blink back your tears.

“Stay still before I hit you with the buckle!” Tommy threatened, his words hissing like a viper.

You mewled out, but listened to his demand. Tommy picked up his belt again and proceeded to whip you with it.

When your cries had died down and you laid still on him, Tommy dropped the belt to the ground and rubbed your black and blue rear. When his fingers rubbed against your slit, he grinned to himself as he brought them into his sight. They glistered in your fluid and he sucked his fingers clean, moaning to himself at your sweet taste.

“Seems like I wasn’t the only one that enjoyed this”' Tommy commented as his fingers returned to your cunt, fondling with your folds and teasing your nerves by randomly pushing in a digit. “Have you learnt your lesson?” Tommy cocked an eyebrow to you.

As you tried to turn your head back towards him, you nodded to him. “Yes Mr Shelby” you spoke out breathlessly.

“Which is?” He questioned.

You choked on your words as you blinked back your tears. “To be a good wife to you!”

“Such a good wife…” Tommy soothed as he caressed your bruised ass. “Stand up and strip for your husband” he instructed as he leaned back into his seat.

Through gritted teeth, you stood on your two feet and slowly stripped till you were completely nude in front of him. Your body shook like a leaf in the wind as you resisted not to cover yourself with your arms. Tommy sighed to himself as he looked your heated figure up and down, and then he pulled out his length and gradually stroked himself a couple of times. Not failing to express how aroused he was through his groans.

“Come here and sit on my cock eh?”

“Mr Shelby please” you begged weakly, eyes stinging with discomfort.

Tommy leaned forward and pointed his finger to you. “Shut up before I change my mind, bend you over and fuck your ass” he warned, his pointed finger completely still.

You nodded your head like a begging dog and practically ran over to Tommy despite the pain that shot through your rear. You straddled your husband, his hands were on your hips as he grinned up to you, his cock pressed against your inner thigh.

“Who do you belong to?” Tommy asked as his length pushed into your throbbing, soaked entrance.

“You Mr Shelby!” You answered through a groan as you slid down his shaft.

“Good… No more talking to anyone, at all, without my permission eh?” Tommy commanded with a resolute nod. All you could do was nod back as he rocked his hips against yours, his fingernails dug into your flesh as your walls squeezed his size.

“Mr Shelby” you whined out.

“You’re mine” Tommy growled animalistically as he leant in to bite your neck. “Only fucking mine. You wanted my attention? You fucking got it” he grunted as he rutted himself deep inside of you.

Your eyes rolled back as you held onto your husband tightly as he drew blood from your neck. The pain dissolved as the pleasure quickly built up inside of your core. Your mouth had fallen open as you were moaning out shamelessly, Tommy slapped your ass and you squealed.

“You’re clenching around me so tightly darling, you want to milk me empty eh? Get yourself pregnant?” Tommy asked, his own breathing heavy as he pounded himself into you.

“Yes Mr Shelby!”

“Keep on squeezing me then, just like that” Tommy coached as his hips thrusted at an immaculate speed. “Maybe another baby in this house would keep you tamed. Let’s give Charlie a little brother or sister eh?” He suggested, a proud smirk on his lips.

All you could do was hum in compliance as you clenched around him. It was so slippery you had to hold your body in place. His balls were slapping against you as you felt your climax climbing as high as it could. The scream from your hot lips echoed throughout the room as you held onto Tommy for dear life. He grunted in response, and shortly followed through with his own climax.

Your body fell dead on top of him as you tried to catch your breath back. Through deep breaths, your chest rose and fell as your eyes remained shut. Tommy breathed out, his hands caressed your lower back as he inhaled your scent. He was still buried inside of you, he could feel your fluids drip out slowly.

“Fuck, that was something else, wasn’t it my love?” Tommy asked teasingly as he patted your rear.

You whimpered, tear stained eyes as you looked up to your husband, he smiled softly to you, you smiled softly back. He guided your hips up, his coated cock slipped out of your swollen entrance with a pop and he helped you onto your feet.

After he slipped his member back into his pants, Tommy guided you to bend over the bed, you winced as you followed through and he examined you. Down on his knees, Tommy pulled your lips apparent with two fingers as he watched your mixed fluids drip out of you. His hands caressed over your abused skin as he stood back up again.

“If only you could see how beautiful you look my dear” Tommy sighed, his voice dark and husky.

He pulled you back up and held you in his arms, your flustered body caved against him. Your knees buckled as Tommy held your weak stance up, he murmured to you, his face rubbed against yours like a needy cat.

“You wanna come down for the rest of the meeting?” Tommy hummed in the crook of your neck.

The thought of you going back down there frightened you, the humiliation of this sudden occurrence felt too overwhelming. Having all eyes on you would cause you to have a breakdown without a doubt, you knew they heard you, your cries had echoed to the fields.

“No Mr Shelby” you answered timidly, sniffling to yourself as you tried to cry silently.

“That’s alright, you rest up, you look exhausted. I’ll come check on you later, I have some business to attend to after this, okay?” Tommy spoke innocently as he led you to the bed.

Tommy helped you in, you winced at the friction of your rear to the sheets but made no comment to your husband’s kindness. The covers were tucked in around you, Tommy petted your hair to the side and smiled at you.

“Thank you Mr Shelby” your smile shaked, cheeks still a dark shade of red.

“Sleep well my love” Tommy whispered before he planted a tender kiss on your lips.

It’s what you missed so badly, instinctively, your arms reached up from under the sheets and tried to snake around his back. But your body felt so weak, you couldn’t bring yourself up. Tommy hummed and pulled your body up, his hold on your lower back as the sheets slipped down your body already, his tongue slipped straight down your throat as your tongue massaged him. As you moaned directly into his mouth, Tommy pressed your faces together as he gently laid you back onto the bed.

“I love you” you whispered once more as your head fell deep into the pillow, your tired eyes remained shut. A low hum echoed out of Tommy as you quickly fell asleep.

Tommy walked back down into the reading room. He knew everyone had heard everything, his eyes locked with Arthur’s. As he shot him a glare, Arthur lowered his head submissively as Tommy continued on with his discussions and concerns to his family.

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x fem!reader #smut #dark smut #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders

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quickandsilvers · 7 months

Text

Sick Day 🔥

Peter Maximoff x fem!reader SMUT

Summary: Reader has come down with an illness, so Peter decides its time to repay the favour and take care of her.

Warnings: Oral sex(fem), fingering, kissing, humping, mention of a sex toy, embarrassment on readers end, Peter being an annoying and yet also very adorable airhead

Word count: 5083

Taglist: @kaismanwich @evpeters87 (Let me know if you want to be added or removed!!)

A good night's sleep was tough enough to get as an Xmen.

Sleeping in went unbeknownst to you, with late nights on missions and grueling 6am training sessions, requiring you to be up and ready to go while everyone else slept lethargically in their rooms without a single care in the world.

This weekend was supposed to be your reprieve, no early mornings, no new work, just a chance to lie in and scoff as many cake snacks as possible until you grew nauseous. Or it should've been. This weekend was anything but.

Since it was a Friday night, and you’d just had a full day of lectures (courteous to Charles, of whom seemed to thrive off of your misery) you promised yourself that Saturday was the day you would crack on and do.. Well.. nothing.

Lying in bed, however, the probability of this happening seemed bleak. Dull, aching pain shot through your stomach intermittently, and the feeling of whole body numbness and nausea couldnt be shaken.

Whimpering and clutching at your stomach, you feebly use your powers to close your bedroom door. You would rather be caught stark naked running through Charles prized white rose bushes than be seen writhing in your bed like you were doing your best attempt of a caterpillar in the process of metamorphosis. You were very aware of Peter’s frequent roaming of the halls, knowing if he caught you in such a state you would never be able to live it down.

You felt weak. Insecure. A class four mutant and yet you succumbed to something as simple as a stomach ache and fever?

It was a fight to repress the pain. A fight you were in fact losing, and you weren’t sleeping because of it.

You weren't exactly sure how your sickness had flared up, but living in a mansion full of prepubescent kids that paid more attention to what was being served for lunch, rather than the basic hygiene and cleanliness standards made you less than surprised.

A glance at your phone. 2:37 AM. A sorry sign given that you’d gone to bed at quarter to twelve. With an exasperated huff you got up, instantly squatting to the ground to lessen the pain that was realized with it. Then, slowly, you maneuvered yourself into your bathroom, supporting your jittery hands on the countertop of your sink before looking into the mirror.

Holy shit, someone alert the authorities. Exorcism needed, stat. Pale faced skin, lidded eyes and disheveled hair greeted you like a slap in the face, only seeming to aid in your shitty mood.

Groaning, you trudged back into the confines of your bed, too lazy to attempt fixing whatever happened to your appearance and disappearing under the covers. You ignored the sweltering heat emitting off of your body, instead picking up your phone once more and dialing a number you knew off by heart.

As an adult, you should’ve been able to handle being sick on your own. But you still wanted to talk to Peter, at least let him know that you weren't feeling great. He owed it to you anyway, you reassured yourself, remembering his leg fracture after the Apocalypse battle, making you his personal assistant for the next two weeks.

A very, very long two weeks. Not that you minded too much, especially when aiding him in getting dressed in the morning, but you soon realized he was essentially just a giant toddler, with no sense of spatial awareness or consideration for your busy schedule.

Peter had somehow influenced you into sharing the same bed for the time his leg was broken, exaggerating the fact he might ‘roll off the bed and be confined to the floor like a turtle stuck on its back.’ His words, not yours.

You weren’t even sure if that was a plausible excuse. Nonetheless, it worked, and you spent the next while being laid upon as though he were a weighted blanket, his stifling speedster body heat having the same effect on you as a sauna.

That you could deal with until you discovered his tendency to constantly be moving around on the bed, even whilst sleeping. One time you woke up with your best friend sprawled out in a way you can only describe as a malfunctioned starfish, limbs stretched out in ways you didn't imagine were possible.

The morning after you made a satirical statement of tying Peter down to the bed to keep him still, only to instantaneously regret it after being met with wiggling eyebrows and a plethora of bondage jokes.

Snapping yourself out of your tranfix, you dial the number, not having to wait as Peter picked up before the first ring.

“Hey babe, what’s up?” He said. You could practically hear his grin from down the phone.

“Hey, are you busy?” You spoke the best you could, wincing at the voice crack you made.

“Geezz, what's up with you?” Peter snorted, and you could hear the faint buzz of his Mrs Pacman machine, telling you he was in his basement. “Yer mouth sexed a can of helium or what?”

Rolling your eyes, you cleared your throat, ignoring the burning sensation traveling through your trachea. “Shut up, Maxipad-'' you could hear his groan through the screen “i was gonna say that i'm just not feeling that good right now. Nothing terminal, was just gonna ask if you could stop by or someth-?”

A woosh sounded from your phone before the call ended, and with a fwip, Peter was standing in your bedroom.

With your half-lidded eyes you glanced up to see your best friend, clad in his million dollar man tee and the only pair of pants you’ve ever seen him wear, the dark metallic color almost black due to the lack of light in your bedroom.

Donning his signature grin hinted with a smidge of concern, Peter blew a section of his silvery hair out of his face before his chocolate eyes locked onto yours. Peter titled his head in amusement, snorting at what you could only assume was your current state of appearance.

Before you could come up with a witty remark, a cough attack silenced your words, making you lean into a sitting position and struggle for breath. When it was over, you noticed Peter now standing on your left with his grin replaced with blatant concern, handing you a glass of water he seemed to have just magically pulled out of his ass.

You eyed the glass, your throat thirsty and parched, but suspicious over the unusual act of care.

“Did you spit in it?” You ask hoarsley, although accepting the drink.

“Please, i’m not that much of an airhead.” Peter argued, laughing at your deadpan gaze. “Besides, it’s not me who you should be worried about. We both know Scott is the most diseased out of all of us.”

“You're still hung up on that?” You barked in laughter before sputtering at the wave of pain sent through your throat.

A few weeks prior, the mansion held a birthday celebration for Kurt, where Scott had one too many to drink. The night ended with your friend sprawled out in a nearby bush outside the mansion, hurling into what poor Scott drunkenly believed was a bag.

The bag in question? Peter’s silver jacket.

“It was my only one!” Peter whined, “they don’t make ‘em anymore!”

You covered your laugh with your hand, knowing Peter’s beloved jacket was a sensitive topic. Although, you made a mental note to find a jacket as similar to his as possible, knowing that the speedsters birthday was just around the corner.

“I’m sure you’ll live.” You smiled, before furrowing your brows as you watched Peter rustling around your cupboards.

“I’m looking for some cough sweets” Peter remarked as he continued to rummage through your things, sensing your confusion. “-for your throat”

You nodded, pointing to a pair of drawers on the opposite side of where you were laying in bed. “Bedside table drawer.” Fwip.

Whilst focusing on adjusting your position into a comfortable one, you could hear the sound of the drawer being pulled open, the rustling indicating Peter’s fumbling.

A half-minute later, you find a comfy spot and turn towards Peter, the background noises coming to a stop and his voice speaking up.

“Found i- oh, hel-lo.” He whistled.

“Did you find the cough sweets?” You asked. Studying his gaze, you wrinkled your nose in puzzlement as Peter stared into the drawer, a wide grin forming on his flushed face.

From knowing Peter since the Xmen formed in ‘83, you recognised this smirk from anywhere, identifying it from when Peter teases you about something. Which of course, is constantly.

“What?” You turn to throw a blanket over yourself before looking back. As you do, you see Peter staring at you with a wicked smile, an arched eyebrow and-

Fuck.

Your silver vibrator in his hand.

Your eyes get impossibly wide and your jaw goes slack in a combination of surprise and pure horror. You completely forgot about that thing, being so busy with missions and training meant that you hadn’t had the time to kick back and relax like you used to do.

The realization that the vibrator was silver, your best friend's infamous signature color, only added to your embarrassment. How were you gonna dig yourself out of this one?

Peter’s grin only gets wider at the comical realization on your face. A few moments of silence and, as if you had been cured miraculously, you scrambled towards him, kneeling upon the bed so that you were only just in line with his twinkling eyes.

Peter snickered as you got closer, drawing the vibrator closer to his chest, almost possessively.

“A vibrator, huh?” He confirms in that annoying tone you had got to know so well. The tone that makes you want to sink into the ground and be one with the soil, no conscience or memory of the situation you are facing.

“That’s something personal, give it back.” You point out, sharp and firm. You extend your hand, waiting for Peter to give you the vibrator, but of course, you remain ignored. “Don’t get cocky about it. The color choice was a coincidence.”

Peter smiles lopsidedly and glances down at you. “I wasn’t sayin’ it was, babe.. But now you’ve got me thinkin’..” He ponders, quirking one of his eyebrows again and waving the silicone in the air mockingly, his thumb resting on the button of the vibrator keenly.

“It was the only color left in stock.” Liar.

Noticing his disbelieving gaze and cocky smirk, you know that you are just digging yourself a bigger hole. You grit your teeth, darting your hand out to try and grab your toy but to not avail, it doesn’t seem like he was giving it back anytime soon.

That annoys you more than it would if it was anyone else, but it's Peter, the most childlike, insufferable, annoying jerk you had ever had a silly crush on passionate hatred for.

You step closer to once more grab your embarrassing secret, but Peter yanks it down and hides it behind his back gleefully. You can't stop that quick move, but you manage to grab Peter by the bicep and push him back and against the bedside table.

You realize that you are now standing really close to him; one side of your body is pressed against Peter’s and you can even feel his tickling breath on your face. Peter stares at you with that twisted, amused look for a few more seconds before he starts blabbering again.

“I guess that you're more of a naughty chick than I was thinkin’, huh?” He speaks in a weird, yet somehow seductive, low voice.

A high-speed buzz trembled next to your ear and you turn, only for your eyes to set on the vibrator Peter was clutching, the silicone moving in rapid motion as he fiddled with the settings.

“This surely ain’t the fastest it can go?” Peter asked rhetorically, and you noticed as his teasing expression switched, as if he were struck dumb with surprise. “Pretty lame if you ask me babe.”

You clench your jaw as you felt the heat rising to your cheeks, the suggestive undertone from his words not going unnoticed by you. You fight against it, not wanting to blush and give Peter more satisfaction.

Another ego boost you fear may be fatal, but you can't help it; your cheeks turning crimson. Peter notices and giggles, nibbling the side of his lip.

“Ya know yer look totally bitchin’ when yer blushing?” He says coyly, and that comment only makes your blush intensify, however you refuse to back down. Nothing you do can bring you back from an endless lifetime of teasing hanging over your head.

“Stop that,” you say harshly, albeit shakily “And give me the vi-.. Just give it back,” Your nose wrinkles at the mere word, embarrassed to come to terms with what your best friend has found in your drawer. You tug Peter’s arm, harder this time, but he doesn't relinquish.

“Yer want it back?” he teases and you know exactly what's coming next. “Then come get it,” Peter pulls back his arm. Fwip. He stands confidently at the other side of your bedroom. You groan. “Why do you always have to act like this?!” You yell, exasperated but not surprised, feebly running after him.

Peter is now standing in the middle of your bathroom with a shit-eating grin and the vibrator dangling in his hand, joyfully inspecting the streaks of silver running along it.

You can only imagine what he is thinking in this moment, the thought of you spread out on your bed, thrusting your toy in and out at a steady pace, soft whimpers and praises of his name squeaking out of you. Peter’s cock twitched at the mere thought.

“Come on babe, if you want it back, you have to fight for it,” he goads, waving the vibrator right in your face.

That's it, you have to stop this now.

You throw yourself against Peter and you both fall back onto the bed. You struggle for a moment and the speedster is giggling the whole time, evidently amused by the situation. He surely loves torturing you like this and the thought of that makes you feel even angrier and struggle harder.

You keep trying to yank his right arm, but Peter pushes you back and hides the hand that's holding the vibrator behind his back once more, sporting a borderline malicious grin.

“What, babe? Are yer gonna give up now?” He teases with an evil smirk that makes you lose it again. You push him forward and manage to make him fall back in the bed. Then you get on top of him, straddling Peter as a way to keep him from moving, but the effort seems to be futile as he keeps shifting under you; his head ducked in the hollow of your neck and one of his hands holding you back by the hip.

After a moment, he stops struggling and you realize that Peter is breathing heavily. You can feel his warm breath brushing the side of your neck and you notice that your own breathing is hitching too.

You pull back, observing Peter's devil gaze. In record time, literally, Peter flipped your positions, his hands snaking into yours as he holds them either side of your head. You stay quiet, glancing up at your best bud and awaiting his next move.

Glancing down at your lips, Peter’s tongue protrudes as he swipes it across his own, chest heaving in excitement. “If yer gave me the chance, babe?” His words were sincere and low.

“I could take real good care of ya.” Peter’s now dark gaze looks up and bores into your own, emphasizing his words in a way that had you needing him already.

You gulped as your breath hitched, your legs involuntarily rubbing together for friction. Arousal seeped from your entrance, beginning to soak your panties, being concealed only by the oversized sleep shirt you had over you.

If Peter had this effect on you with just his words, you wondered how you would survive with him balls deep inside. The thought alone made your thighs quake.

You weren’t stupid. You were very aware of Peter’s dating history and his tendency to ‘get around.’ But could you blame him? With the power to move any part of his body at mind bogglingly rapid speeds, you were surprised that there wasn’t a line of women outside his dorm room each night, cash in hand.

Peter was a respectful lover, of course, making it known his intentions from the get-go, but you couldn’t help but feel insecure from the inexperience you had against him. You weren’t a virgin, but you absolutely weren’t experienced either.

Peter felt your legs quivering as he looked down, fighting against the Gods themselves to not moan at the sight before him. Your baggy shirt had lifted up during the tussle, revealing your lace panties, wet from your arousal. His own cock leaked in response, and Peter looked back up, awaiting your response.

He was Peter. Your Peter; and you trusted him wholeheartedly.

“Really?”

“Scout’s honor, babe.” Peter grinned, holding up four fingers. He wasn’t a scout, nor was he holding up the right amount of fingers, but that was enough for you.

Smiling, you nodded, and Peter’s nervous facade dropped instantly as a teasing smirk adorned his features. He sat up to pull his shirt over his head in one swift motion, then leant back down to meet you in a passionate kiss.

Your lips parted instantly, allowing his tongue to explore your mouth while his fingers found the hem of your shirt, sliding up until the pads of his fingers tickled and grazed your waist. Peter hummed in content, enjoying the slight jolts your body made in reaction to his soft touches.

Sliding his hand along your spine, your back arched, allowing Peter to pull you up into a sitting position and gently take off your shirt. Once the material was discarded on the floor and you were left in just your panties, Peter grinned like a schoolboy at the sight of your bare chest, watching your nipples gradually harden from the exposure to the cold air.

A low groan rumbled from the back of his throat as he leant forward to blow cool air on your tits briefly, making you whimper and curl your hands into his unbelievably soft hair that you were impossibly jealous of.

He leaned back quickly to remove his shirt, discarding it in the general direction where he threw yours.

Peter’s focus moved back to your face, taking you in another sweet kiss as his chest collided with yours. The warmth between your bodies was comforting, especially when Peter pressed them together and pulled back from the kiss to travel back down. He kissed down the valley of your breasts, moving to the underside with an unsuspecting nip, making you gasp and clutch onto his hands.

Your eyes closed as Peter worked on your chest, nipping, licking and sucking the both of them, leaving a trail of marks that showed your belonging to him. When his soft touches subsided, you opened your eyes, only to be met with Peter’s dark ones and a smirk gracing his pinkish lips.

You were about to question him on why he stopped before he shushed you and tilted his head teasingly.

“Be honest with me, babe. Yer bought that vibrator with me in mind.” Peter smiled cheekily as you flushed once more, shaking your head in denial.

“It was just a big coincid-” you stopped mid sentence as your best friend quirked his eyebrow, disbelief coating his expression. You sighed.

“I guess.. It might've been at the back of my mind..” you mumbled almost inaudibly, averting your gaze due to the sheer embarrassment of admitting your dirty secret to the very last person you intended to tell.

Peter mockingly leaned closer towards you, cupping his ear with his hand as if it were impaired. “I’m sorry, babe, couldn’t hear yer there. What did ya say?” You glared at him, only making him laugh and continue with the gesture until you did what he wanted.

“Okay- fine! Yes, it was about you. Don’t be gettin’ so cocky about it, alright?” You admitted, exasperated.

Peter snickered jovially, his chest puffing out in show that your words had already given him the ego boost he was craving for. You could barely revel in your humiliation before you gasped, a buzzing emitting from your clit that made you writhe in a frenzy.

“All yer had to do was tell me the where and when, babe.” Peter grinned, gazing at your blissful expressions as the pads of his fingers pressed deeper into your clit, making you rock your hips into his hand. “Yer don’t need that toy when ya have the living, breathing, undoubtedly sexier thing.” You failed to answer, instead nodding vigorously and whimpering.

The buzzes came to an abrupt stop as his hands slid back out of your soaking panties, and you whined at the loss of contact, humping the air to gain some sort of friction to keep you going.

Peter snickered beside you, a comment about how needy you were for him going unnoticed by you as you whined for his touch.

You gripped onto his hands tight, gasping as Peter once more began kissing down your chest, but this time passing your breasts and moving down your stomach, peppering kisses along the way.

“Your skin is so fuckin’ soft,” Peter groaned, grabbing your thighs with a “c’mere” and pulling you towards him “what typa baby powder are yer usin’, huh?” His voice blabbered on and you let out a sound that was between a chuckle and a moan, your chest heaving as you awaited his heavenly touches.

Hooking your aching legs over his shoulders, Peter reached for the strap of your underwear, his fingers hooking underneath and sliding them off. You could faintly hear the fumble of the material, unknowing that Peter had shoved your wet panties in his trouser pocket.

One of his hands reached upwards to join with yours again, giving you the added reassurance that you would be okay and safe with him.

Your mind completely dissociated from anything other than him as Peter parted your sticky folds with his tongue, sliding the wetness up until he reached the other end. He giggled into your core, making you furrow your brows in confusion but shiver at the vibrations rippling through you.

“I was thinkin’.. It just reminded me of that old guy parting the seas.” Peter chuckled, and your head lifted up to look at your best friend in pure shock. ”What was his name? Monty? Moses? Moses! It was Moses.”

The Fuck?

“You seriously cannot be quoting the bible whilst eating me out, Peter.” You couldn’t believe what he just said. He couldn’t have been the furthest from sexy in this moment, and yet your body was still trembling from anticipation and want. You laid back down, chuckling from the irony and utter bullshit Peter spew out.

“Sorry, sorry.” Peter grimaced, cringing at his own actions “not the time.” Letting out a breath of hot air that hit your center, you gasped, immediately forgetting about what just occurred.

Peter dove in fully this time, leaving you almost no time to prepare as his tongue swirled around your slick in a way that had you clawing at your interlocked hands, gripping Peter so tightly you feared you may be cutting off his circulation.

Your body jolted uncontrollably, and using his other hand, Peter pressed it against your stomach to cease your movements, your skin burning up underneath his touch.

The bed rocked underneath you, not only from your involuntary movements but from the relentless thrusts Peter made on the bed, his cock hardening from your squeaks and moans that he was creating. He humped the bed, groaning into your core, only adding in the stimulation and pleasure, taking you to the brink of screaming so loud that Ororo could be able to hear you from the other side of the mansion.

Peter’s nose tickled your clit as he lapped at your heat, giving you that extra stimulation that took you where you needed to get faster. Your breathing quickened as you felt a finger penetrate through your folds and fully into you, making you gasp and clench, begging him to just move. Move.

The mix of his tongue flicking and buzzing your clit and his now two fingers pumping you in and out sent you into a frenzy, your moans only spurring Peter on, taking him to the edge of his own release.

The only thing you could think about was Peter and the exhilarating pleasure that he was providing you. You seized up as if you were in fear his actions would stop altogether, burning pressure building inside of you to the point you felt like you might explode.

With a curl of his fingers against a particularly spongy spot inside of you, you cried out Peter’s name as your back arched expertly off the bed, blazing intense bliss shooting out from your core and spraying the mattress, your thighs and Peter’s face.

Crying out once more in pure euphoria, your back hit the bed as you spasmed, Peter’s tongue working you through your orgasm.

Breathing heavily, you shuddered as Peter’s fingers slid out of you, a trail of your sticky release coating his digits. He all but moaned at the sight, arousal pooling in his belly as he unconsciously jutted his hips forward once more, seeking and finding the contact for his rock hard erection that was painfully constricted in the tight confines of his pants.

After a few more sharp thrusts, a filthy moan came out from Peter, his mouth forming a perfect ‘o’ shape and thick ropes of hot cum spilling into his underwear.

As your high came to an end Peter moved to kneel above you, putting his slick-covered fingers into his mouth and closing his eyes, humming at the taste. You didn’t even have the strength to utter out thanks to Peter, watching him tiredly as he wiped his chin of arousal.

He leant down briefly to kiss the inside of both your quivering thighs before laying them down to rest against the mattress.

Humming a low chuckle at your blissed out state, Peter took you into a delicate kiss, the taste of yourself and the heat of your altercation invading your senses. You wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders, pulling away after short intervals for air.

“Well?” he said, tucking a sweaty strand behind your ear.

“Well what?”

“Was it better than the vibrator?” Peter smirked, leaving wet kisses and hickies along your jawline that your peers would surely question about tomorrow.

You let out a few breaths, still struggling to come to terms with the fact that you just fucked your bestfriend.

“I think you know the answer to that, Peter.” You breathed lightly as his hair tickled your cheeks. He grinned against the skin of your neck, encouraging a tired smile of your own to break out.

He then sat up promptly, adorning a mischievous smile before using his speed to grab the vibrator, you watching him with wide eyes.

You thought he had the intentions for a second round, but you were dumbfounded as he sped over to your balcony, stepping outside and using his speed to throw the toy as far as a speedster deemed possible.

“Peter!!” You screeched, jumping out and quickly pulling on his tee, of which thankfully covered your bare bottom half, running up to the balcony and staring into the vast darkness. “That was mine, you airhead! You have to get it back!”

“It didn’t even work that well, princess.” Peter promptly shrugged at his actions, bending down to throw you over his shoulder. You screech once more, flinging your arms about in an attempt to cover your bare lower half, a string of obscenities leaving your sore throat.

He threw you onto the bed under the covers, disappearing for a nanosecond to clean up and then reappearing, wearing a sweatshirt and sleeping pants. Peter crawled under with you, nuzzling into your neck contently as if he hadn’t just lobbed your expensive toy to the other side of the continent.

You scoffed, pushing against his head. “I can’t believe you’ve actually just done that.”

Still unrelenting, Peters warm hands slowly rubbed up and down your thigh, as if trying to hypnotize you into sleep. “No regrets,” he grinned, voice slightly muffled as his breath hit your neck “besides, yer have me now babe.”

“Really?” You looked up at the ceiling in shock, not even thinking about what all this actually meant. “Like, as a couple?”

Peter nodded gleefully, moving his head away to look up at you with tousled hair and droopy eyes. “Just imagine, i can be your strong, handsome, ladies man, dreamy, seductive, great music taste, badass boyfriend that you can show off to all friends and family.” You laughed at his dreamy sigh, caressing your fingers into his hair.

“Seductive?” You question, your teasing smirk letting him know you were only joking around. “I would hardly compare you to Patrick Swayze.”

Peter gasped overdramatically, his hand quickly removing itself from your thigh, clenching it by his chest as if he were heartbroken. “Babe, have you seen my smoulder? The chicks faint at the sight.” You turn to look at him, only to see him adorning a quirked eyebrow and a theatrical smoulder not-so-gracefully embellishing his face.

You snort, using the hand in his hair to push Peter’s head back into your neck.

“The fact you just referred to women as ‘chicks’ only proves my point, Maxipad.” You say after a brief pause, only to be met with light snoring as Peter’s eyes closed, his arms wrapped around your middle and legs intertwined with your own.

You bit your lip from cheerfulness, relishing in the moment as your arms curl up by his chest, comforted by the heat radiating off his body.

It was the same cuddling as when his leg was broken, only the air had changed to that of intimacy, a warm buzzing feeling in your chest.

So yes, you had found something to do this weekend.

#peter maximoff #quicksilver #evan peters #xmen #evan peters masterlist #james patrick march #peter maximoff x y/n #peter maximoff fluff #peter maximoff x you #peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff smut #xmen peter maximoff #xmen days of future past #xmen headcanon #xmen quicksilver #xmen apocalypse

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lunas-side-anime-blog · 5 months

Text

Modern College Student/Gf Mikasa Ackerman Headcanons

Armin Version: Here Eren Version: Here

scary goth girl that everyone is too scared to talk to but secretly crushes on

psychology major bc I think she had a tough childhood and wants to better understand trauma / help others

somwhere in the middle between Armin and Erin when it comes to academics

like I don't think she is as intense about grades as Armin is, but I also don't think she's as laidback about school as Eren

moderately studies throughout the week, but it's just basic note taking and chapter reading, i don't think she's afraid to miss a few classes though if she feels like it

only really crams and does all-nighters right before an exam if she thinks she needs it

i think she wears men cologne and deodorant and it fits her soo well, idk how to describe it but she smells powerful but comforting at the same time?

maybe like woodsy with strong notes of vanilla and cashmere

loves a black cold brew: no creamer, foam or sugar like she's so intense that way

i think she's that one cool girl who always walks into class like a few minutes late with a hot resting bitch face, AirPods in and a cold brew in hand

tall girl and I think her height is prob her fave feature about herself, like I can see her wearing more heeled boots or platforms to exaggerate it

wears lots of black and hardly any makeup besides some light eyeliner most days

doesn't talk alot unless she fr knows you, i think most people would just hear her say "here" for attendenace and that's it

doesn't go to parties unless she has to

I think think she'll only go to watch eren and armin. she knows eren loves to go overboard and armin will most likely get distracted so she takes it upon herself to be the sober one watching everyone's drinks

def a girls girl like if she sees another female in an uncomfortable situation shes jumping in, no questions asked

i can see her working out with eren so in my mind shes ripped too and yeah...most guys don't fuck with her

has a cute lil skincare routine, only has like a three step process tho since I think she has naturally good skin

she secretly loves facemasks tho and doing her nails with armin as rewards for studying lol

I think out of the main three mikasa would have the most instagram followers, which is so funny bc she doesn't know why she's so popular?

I just think her aesthetic and vibe is very cool, if her account is set to public she would quickly get a lil following

lots of secret admires with this one, men and woman alike

I can see her being BI or Pan too so like that's very conveient

other than armin and eren, I think Mikasa would be besties with Yimir and Sasha

i can see them going to concerts together, shopping, late night drives, getting food (at sasha's demand lol) like i think they'd be a chill lil trio

views eren and armin as brother figures btw, gets grossed out when people ask if shes dating them

obviously a very protective friend

the type of freind whose like "what's their name" when you tell her you're seeing someone new and within an hour Mikasa will have an entire report on where they went to school, all their exes, hobbies, pets, address, ect.

I can see her getting a masters tbh, I def think armin would talk her into it so I think they would be grad school buddies while eren finishes his BA (he'll lag behind them a year or two since he changed his major so much anyway)

Loves cats and I think she'd have one or two if armin and eren are cool with it

I think she would have a few tatooes and piercings, but very subtle ones she can hide since I think as a psychologist she'd want to be taken seriously

music taste is kinda stuck in middle school tbh, still loves my chemical romance with a passion

I don't think she'd smoke weed or drink

^^ not that she has anything against it but i think she just hates the feeling of not being in complete control of herself so she stays away from things like that

never gets sick? it's actually medically fascinating

Overall she's that one quiet girl in class who looks scary but is a sweethear and everyon'es dying to be friends with

As your GF

omg I think she'd be the best significant other tbh

I think you would meet her in a meet-cute way since it's always the people who you least expect to be cheesy

I think maybe like you accidentally tripped and made her spill her coffee in class. you look up an see this tall, ripped, emo looking chick and you rush to apologise and give her your drink in hopes she doesn't flip

shes like "...ok." and takes it. but then the next class she randomly sits next to you and passes you a drink and is like ... "i hope i got your order right?"

the dork memorized your drink akjglalg

after that she kinda keeps sitting next to you and attempts small talk, so you realize she's actually v sweet and exchange socials

which is great bc I think mikasa is way better at flirting over text than in person and you'd quickly understand that she likes you

First date would probably be a show, i think she'd take you to a local band she likes and would get a quick bite after it

I think for second date she'd like you to choose what you guys do and then third she chooses, you guys switch bc she's all about that equal effort

once you agree to be her s/o she'd gonna be so annoying on social media like she's def gonna loose some followers as she only posts you now

type of partner to notice the smallest changes in you right away

you give her a peck and shes like "why aren't you wearing your usual lip balm? do you not like strawberries anymore?"

in bed she's a dom, is that even a queston?

I think she's actually a brat tamer, in my head rn she gets a lil smirk when you act up and i think she just mentally notes what to punish you for later

mikasa views sex toys as allies not enemies, and yeah i think she has an impressive collection so buckle tf up

okay so she's kinda yandere (tbh i think most ppl from the aot universe are but esp mikasa) I think shes very protective and a touch paranoid?

like i think her past is kinda messed up and I can see her mind running wild with ideas if not reassured

so you can just oversleep for a bit and you'll wake up to mikasa practically breaking into your apartment to make sure you're okay bc you suddenly went silent on her

some trust issues too, would def be really upset if you didn't give her the passcode to your phone

doesn't like your friends or anyone else you talk to tbh, she just doesn't think anyone else has your back like she does and will always remind you

i also know her manipulation skill is cray being a psych major, I don't think she's as good as Armin but ik she can weaponize some therapy speak and make you feel a lil stupid (only does it for your own good she says)

doesn't get jealous but does get even

I can see the little shit putting thumbtacks in pockets or laxitives in drinks if someone dares flirt with you, she can be so evil sometimes i just know it

she isn't even scared of the aftermath bc she knows eren and armin have her back so she wants the smoke tbh

the type of partner to death stare someone from behind your back but when you turn around she's suddenly all :)

would love matching tattoos with you if you're down

think she'll be the quickest to bring up marriage too, porbably only a few months of dating and she's like "so when we get married-" and you're like "!?"

big spoon gf, you can be bigger than her and she don't gaf she's still holding you not the other way around

Overall a really sweet girlfriend who just wants to protect you and keep you all to herself

Can be a lil crazy at times, but she means well I swear !!!

Nicknames for you: love, my other half, wifey/hubbie

Songs that fit the vibe: The Perfect Girl by Mareux, Breezeblocks by Alt-J, Me and Your Mama by Childish Gambino

"You're such a strange girl, the way you look like you do."

"She's morphine, queen of my vaccine, my love, my love, love..."

"Girl you really got a hold on me, so this isn't just puppy love"

(She's so hot omg I love her, i developed a lil crush writing this! Anyway srry the moodboard didn't include couple stuff, girlfriend aesthetics are way harder to find than bf aesthetics and the ones I did find looked nothing like her :( tell me if you guys like this series, totally open to doing more characters! not even just from aot, i also kinda wanna do demon slayer or hxh, also love jjk and chainsaw man but I didn't read those mangas yet so I may not be the best at it!!)

#mikasa ackerman #mikasa x reader #yandere mikasa #yandere aot #yandere attack on titan #attack on titan headcanons #aot headcanons #mikasa ackerman smut #mikasa aot #modern attack on titan #modern mikasa

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archangeldyke-all · 4 months

Note

I feel like if Vika had a baby she wouldn’t baby talk and have full on conversations with them. Like she’ll tell the baby how whiskey prices went up and how “fucking stupid” it is, or she’ll talk about some new kid at her job and how “the fucker” can’t do anything right LMAO

sugar u r the smartest person i know

men and minors dni

you and everyone who meets the baby talk to her like anybody talks to a baby, cooing and exaggerating and using an exaggerated baby voice.

your typical conversations with your kid for the first year of her life go something like 'awe, do you have a poopy? sweet baby made a big poopy.' or 'can you say: mama? mmmma mmmma?'

sevika, however, talks to your kid like she's an old friend.

you'll catch her feeding your daughter baby food, scooping up the goop that falls down onto her chin as she chats. "fuckin' silco was gettin' on my last nerve today. would you be pissed if we revoked his 'godfather' status? i know he spoils you, but i think we could find a suitable replacement, someone who doesn't have their head stuck up their ass. he thinks he runs the fuckin' place, he forgets we're co-owners. co. that means both. you're so lucky you don't have to work, you know that? you've got it made, kid, shit, you don't even have to feed yourself."

or, after you've had a long day at home with the little fucker, who's been screaming her head off and refusing to latch onto your tits to drink, you overhear sevika talking to her as she gently dances her around the living room. "you gotta give your mom a break, kid. i know you're probably sicka breast milk, but it's important you drink it, it's got all kindsa good shit in it that'll make you strong. like this, see?" she asks as she flexes the arm not holding your daughter. "keep drinkin' your milk and you'll be as strong as me in no time. well, you'll have to have a pretty strict workout regiment too, it's not all genetic. though, don't tell your mom, but i'm glad you've got my build-- she's a little wimp. you're strong like me. she hates it 'cause you came out so big 'n tore her pussy apart comin' out but i think it's great. you'll be a great athlete once you figure out the whole walkin' thing..."

or at bathtime, while she's got your baby in the sink, gently shampooing the two or three hairs on her head, you're guaranteed to find her catching your daughter up on the latest drama on the soap opera she swears she doesn't watch. "i know, it's fuckin' crazy! but, then, get this, molly, the homewrecker from season three? she shows up pregnant, swearing it's travis' kid! mind you, this is all at a funeral-- at shepard's funeral!" your daughter coos. "oh, shepard's the one who came out gay in season four but then decided to marry miriam in season five, because she needed her greencard." your daughter coos again, and sevika takes this as understanding. "right, you remember. anyways this pregnant bitch molly comes marching in while we're all crying because shep's dead, and she's like 'everybody look at me and my big fat belly!' turns out? she's stuffing her stomach with blankets..."

the funniest thing is that your daughter seems to understand it all, blinking up at sevika with big, interested eyes, absorbing her every word, cooing when she's silent, like she's responding to sevika's commentary.

after a while, it starts to rub off on you, and pretty soon, both you and sevika are talking to your little girl like she's an adult.

it's all fun and games until she starts talking, and her first words are 'fuck' and 'mama' and 'dickhead' and 'milk'

taglist!

@lesbeaniegreenie @fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika

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yournowheregirl · 11 months

Text

part 1 [part 2 - coming soon]

Robin is panicking.

She’s standing in the middle of Lovelace Lingerie and she’s panicking.

There are two reasons why she has always avoided this place like the plague. The first and obvious one being the whole ‘I'm gay and if I stare at this model wearing nothing but a lace bodysuit for a second too long, everyone is going to know exactly how gay I am’ bit. The second reason is just a plain habit. She bought her first bra at the department store, she knows what brand she likes, she knows her size and she knows that she doesn’t want all the frills and the bows and the lace. Just a plain black or white bra (maybe blue if she’s feeling fancy), nothing more, nothing less.

That is until Vickie said something when she stayed over the other day.

“Why are all your bras so boring, Robin?”

Robin never thought her bras were boring. Sure, they were plain and nothing like the colorful lace bras Vickie likes to wear, but they were just there to serve one purpose - to hold her boobs in place while she goes about her day. Plus, before Vickie, she was the only one looking at her bra and she was doing just fine, thank you very much.

But Vickie’s words got stuck in her head, as they often do, which made Robin decide to take matters into her own hands and buy something that’ll make Vickie happy. A final hail Mary to make up for all the arguments they’ve been having these last few weeks.

Though she’s beginning to regret her decision as the sheer amount of choice start to overwhelm her. There’s just so much lace. So many straps. So many colorful bows and flower designs. So many things that say they’re bras, but look more like a flimsy piece of fabric tied together with two strings of floss.

In her state of outright panic, Robin rushes through the store and grabs one of each pair of lingerie that she thinks Vickie will like. She doesn’t even bother to look at the sizing - honestly, what good is a size anyway when this bra is just a bunch of straps and two hearts cut out of red fabric - she just grabs them all and heads straight to the fitting rooms.

As it turns out, she should’ve been looking at the label because nothing seems to fit or suit her. The fabric of the lilac one is scratchy and the green one is just plain ugly. The black one makes her boobs look saggy, while the yellow one is too tight and make her boobs spill out. And don’t even get her started on the neon pink one - that one isn’t even a bra, it’s a torture device.

Oh God, she’s never gonna make it out of this alive. She’s gonna die, right here in this pink and red monstrosity of a fitting room, choked to death by satin straps, and, and- are those walls closing in on her or is she just imagining things?

A knock on the door of the fitting room snaps Robin out of her downwards spiral but her mouth still runs faster than the brain when she calls out, “Who is it?”

“Uh, it’s... it’s Nancy? I work here?” A woman responds from the other side of the door. “You were taking a long time and I was wondering if you were okay, if you needed any help.”

Help. Yes, that’s exactly what she needs. Someone who knows their way around all these lace-y things, who knows what she needs to buy to keep Vickie happy and get out of here as fast as she can.

“Yes.” Robin croaks out. “Yes, please. I definitely needs some help.”

Robin immediately regrets her decision when an actual angel steps into the dressing room rather than an employee. And Robin’s not over-exaggerating, the warm light of the hallway does make it seem like there’s a halo around her brown curls, but it’s Nancy’s smile that makes Robin grow weak in the knees. It might be a customer service smile that she knows all too well, but Nancy makes it look genuinely sweet.

Focus, Robin. She tells herself. You’re here for your girlfriend don’t get distracted by Nancy’s blue eyes or rosy pink lips or-

“Wow.” Nancy breathes, looking around the mess that Robin made of the fitting room.

“I’m sorry! I just got overwhelmed and I just grabbed everything and then I just panicked and then- then this happened.” Robin rambles apologetically.

“Don’t worry. I’ve seen worse.” Nancy smiles politely. “How can I help?”

“Is this sexy?” Robin blurts out and Jesus Christ, can the ground open up and swallow her whole right now? Why would she say something like that?

But Nancy doesn’t seem all that bothered with her question. She just blinks and cocks her head to the side, examining Robin with precision in her eyes.

“It is from our Super Sexy line, so it’s literally designed to be sexy.” Nancy says. “But the most important question is, do you feel sexy in it?”

Robin turns around and takes a good look at herself in the mirror. The color of the bra is nice and the flower and butterflies that are stitched into the fabric are pretty, but she still feels the need to wrap her arms around her body and shield it from prying eyes. It looks like something Vickie would like, it’s similar to what she owns and wears, but Robin feels that it’s just not her.

“Not really.” Robin says softly. “I’m not... all of this. I don’t wear all this complicated lace-y, girly junk and- oh shit, I’m totally insulting your job right in front of you.”

Nancy chuckles and shakes her head. “Oh believe me, you’re fine. We have a lot of things that are a bit... out there, so to say. But if you tell me what it is you’re looking for, I can see if we have something you feel more comfortable in?”

There’s something in Nancy’s eyes that Robin can’t put her finger on, but all she knows is that she’s suddenly telling Nancy everything. From her bra shopping at the department store to Vickie (Robin’s just in time to call Vickie her partner instead of girlfriend) telling her the bras she wears are boring and how she’s here in the hopes of finding something that will make her partner happy.

Nancy listens and nods along to the story, asking her questions about her preferences for colors and styles and even though Robin has know clue what she wants or what she’s talking about, Nancy doesn’t seem to mind. She just smiles and explains things into further detail with no further judgement and that somehow puts Robin’s mind at ease.

Maybe things will be alright after all

“I think I have just the thing for you.” Nancy says. “What’s your size?”

“Uh, I- I think it’s this one?” Robin grabs at the price tag on her back, but she has to twist her way like a contortionist to be able to see it. Nancy’s at her side at a split second, looking back and forth between the price tag and Robin’s cleavage.

“I don’t think this is the right fit. Do you mind if I measure you?” She asks, grabbing the yellow tape measurer from where it was hanging around her neck, a stark contrast to the black dress she’s wearing.

And yeah, Robin does mind, actually. If the satin straps aren’t the ones that are gonna kill her, a pretty girl touching her boobs just might do the trick. Still, Robin finds herself nodding and lifting her arms above her head so Nancy can easily measure her.

The tape measure is surprisingly cold when it hits her skin and instead of focusing on Nancy and her lovely petite hands, Robin starts reciting conjugations of French verbs in her head. It does little to distract her, mostly because Nancy is standing so close that Robin can swell the sweet flowery perfume she has on. Nancy’s touches are light and of course, totally professional, but Robin still feels a goosebumps spreading across her skin when Nancy’s fingertips ghost over her skin.

Christ, get a grip Buckley.

“Be right back.” Nancy smiles as soon as she’s done and disappears out of the fitting room, grabbing the bras that Robin threw on the floor earlier on her way out.

Robin leans against the wall and sighs deeply once she knows Nancy’s out of earshot. She really hopes that Nancy wasn’t able to feel the way her heart sped up just now, but the flimsy fabric of the bra she’s wearing probably did shit at hiding that. Her hand reaches up to check and yup, Nancy was definitely able to feel that.

Oh God, why can’t she just be normal for once? She has a girlfriend for crying out loud! Vickie’s the whole damn reason she’s in this pink boudoir hell-hole in the first place! She just has to keep her eyes on the prize and not let Nancy derail her from the process.

Which is easier said than done when Nancy reappears with a new bra in hand. This one is black and looks plain at first, but Robin is quick to notice the mesh detailing and cut-outs, as well as the silver decorative thread in the straps. It’s simple, yet still more exciting than any of the bras Robin currently has in her closet.

“Just let me know when you tried it on, okay?” Nancy says and with another sweet smile, she disappears again.

Robin shimmies out of the blush pink monstrosity she still had on and puts the black bra on instead. She can feel the difference almost immediately - the fabric is soft and doesn’t itch, the mesh detailing isn’t overtly sexy but just suggestive enough and it must be made of magic because her boobs have never looked this good.

Giddy with excitement, she knocks on the door and lets Nancy back inside.

“And?”

“You’re a bra wizard!” Robin beams, gesturing to herself. “Seriously, look at this! I’ve never looked this good!”

“Just doing my job.” Nancy chuckles, a faint pink blush appearing on her cheeks as she looks Robin up and down. “Uh, how’s the fit? Nothing too tight or anything?”

“Fits like a glove.”

“Good.” Nancy says. Her eyes dart between Robin’s face and her cleavage again, her gaze lingering for a beat too long, before promptly looking away, almost as if she’d been burnt. “Uh, if you decide to buy it, come find me in the store and I’ll ring it up for you, alright?”

“Yeah, alright.” Robin replies softly.

Nancy nods and quickly walks out of the fitting room, shutting the door behind her with a loud bang.

As Robin puts her clothes back on again, she can’t help but wonder what all of that was about. She knows she’s not the best with social cues but even she can recognize that there was something going on there.

Could it be-

No, no, Nancy is just a good saleswoman and Robin is just a customer in her eyes. Nothing more.

Still, Robin can’t help but feel guilty when she feels her heart skip a beat at the mere thought of not just being a customer to Nancy. With a loud sigh, she zips her jacket back up, grabs her bra and heads back into the store.

She manages to find a pair of black panties that match the bra and armed with both of those in hand, she’s able to find Nancy on the other side of the store. Nancy immediately smiles when Robin waves at her and it does nothing to slow down Robin’s already rapid heartbeat.

“Were you able to find everything?”

“Yeah, got something to match as well.” Robin nods, awkwardly holding up the pair of satin black panties.

“Oh, I know from experience that those are very comfortable. Good choice.” Nancy says, and yeah Robin’s not going to stop thinking about that one, isn’t she?

She follows Nancy to the register and her mind is still a bit hazy as she pays and watches Nancy neatly wrap her new items. She even spritzes some sugary sweet perfume onto the bag before she hands it to Robin with a bright smile. “Here you go.”

“Thank you so much for your help, honestly.” Robin says. “I mean, you saw what a mess I made back there, I was so overwhelmed and you- well, you saved me, actually.”

“I was happy to help, really.” Nancy replies. She pauses for a moment, a frown appearing on her face as if she’s thinking about what to say next. “Can I be honest with you?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“I really hope you’re also buying and wearing this set for yourself, not just your partner. You should wear something that makes you feel good, not just because your partner wants it. ” Nancy says firmly. “And frankly, your partner is an idiot if they think you’re boring without a fancy-looking garment. Trust me, you don’t need all the extra frills and ruffles.”

That... That sounds suspiciously like a compliment, maybe even a flirty compliment and Robin’s brain does not know how to deal with that right now. Not after her meltdown from earlier, not after feeling Nancy’s kind eyes and cold hands on her, not while Nancy still has that twinkle in her eyes that makes Robin go just a little insane.

“Th- thank you.” Robin stammers. She grabs the bag a bit tighter, as if that’ll help her get back to reality. It’s still pretty hard though because Nancy looks even prettier in the daylight and- “I gotta gay. Go! I mean- I gotta go. Bye!”

“Have a nice day!” Nancy calls out after her, but Robin’s blood is pumping so loudly in her ears that it mostly gets drowned out.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, what is happening to her?

A firm hand on her shoulder shakes her from her thoughts and Robin turns around with a loud yelp.

“Jesus, it’s just me.” Steve says defensively. “Did you buy the whole store or something? You were in there for a while.”

“Yeah, no, it’s fine. I’m good.” Robin nods a little too obviously, making Steve frown at her. Dammit, why can he always see right through her? But that doesn’t stop her from lying through her teeth. “I’m fine, Steve. Really. I promise.”

Steve hums, still unimpressed. “Alright. If you say so. Glad you got everything you need to woo her right off her feet.”

“Wha- what? Woo who?” Robin panics. How did Steve already know about that weird thing between her and Nancy? Did he have supersonic hearing or something? X-ray eyes? (which, gross, don’t use those eyes in a lingerie store, Steven)

“Ha, you sound like an owl.” Steve snorts. “But I’m talking wooing Vickie, idiot. That’s why you went in there, right?”

Right. Vickie.

brought to you by: me going bra shopping earlier today. also sorry to the vickie stans, i’m sure she’s lovely but she’s not gonna be lovely in this series. stay tuned for part 2! (kudos if you can spot an iconic line from glee that i just had to add in for funsies)

#ronance #ronance fic #robin buckley x nancy wheeler #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #stranger things ficlet #stranger things #ronance ficlet #am i turning into a ronance blog? maybe #but the girls deserve some love too!!#okay going to bed now bye bye

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lovelinoss · 5 months

Text

Enemies?

Nonidol!hyunjin x gn!reader

Enemies to lovers | highschool!au (seniors)

Warnings : bickering.. semi-bullying? (Not much, they hate eachother so..), no more that I know of let me know if there is any to add

A/n : like a one time thing cause I was thinking about scenarios in my head when I thought of this was and I kept getting ideas 😭 never writing a fic in my life again 😥 also was not expecting this to be THIS long but!! Part 2 maybe.. ^^

(7.7k words)

Hwang. Fucking. Hyunjin.

Just his name alone was enough to infuriate you and get your blood boiling. Simply put, he was your arch-nemesis. Your rival. Your enemy. Always picking on you in school, acting like he was all high and mighty. He would do anything to make you mad, and it worked. Even if you didn’t wanna admit it.

It was the week before your senior year finally started. You were dreading going to school, not excited to see Hyunjin again. Laying down in your bed, fond memories came flooding back as you were thinking about the upcoming school year.

Once, Hyunjin just so happened to be right behind you while you were in the cafeteria, and just so happened to ‘bump’ into you. Saying how he was “oh so sorry”, saying how he didn’t see you and just ran off, leaving your meal on the floor and you glaring at him.

Another time during hoco, he ‘accidentally’ spilled his almost full cup - and I mean till the brim - of fruit punch onto your white dress. It was obviously planned. He said a meaningless sorry as he ran off cackling with his friends, high fiving one of them. You went home right after, feeling all sticky and a bit humiliated in front of the whole school.

And another time, he threw a football as you were walking past the field. Not when you were even close to the border that marked off the play area. It so happened to hit you right on the head, causing you to drop your newly bought phone to the concrete ground. Everyone knew he had a good aim. You turned back, furious, to see him high fiving his friends.

There was oh so much more, and you wanted this to end. A new year, new you, yeah?

Finally, Monday came rolling around. You quickly got ready, putting on a decent outfit for the first day and finally arrived upon your dear, sweet high school.

As you walked in, your best friend Jisung wrapped his arms around you, welcoming you in a Jisung-signature style way.

“Hey bae!” He said sweetly. “So, whats the occasion? Looking a bit hot today.” You laughed, smacking him on his arm as he exaggerated the pain.

“Nothing,” you responded. “Just.. wanted to look a bit better for the new year yknow?”

“Ah, gotcha,” he winked. “Yknow. Hyunjin came around earlier, asking where you were. Fucking obsessed freak. Anyway, I told him to fuck off and mind his business.”

“This is why I still tolerate you,” you responded, thanking him in your own way. He smacked you back as you guys both giggled and entered homeroom.

Thankfully, it was a free-sit class, automatically making both you and Jisung sit next to each other. As you were taking out your pencil, you heard Jisung groan, making you look up to see Hyunjin enter the doorway. As soon as he entered the classroom, he spotted you, allowing a big stupid smile to appear on that stupid face of his. Oh great.

“Hey,” Hyunjin said nonchalantly as he came towards you. “Thought you were gone for good. Glad you’re still here. That way I’ll still have some fun in this junk of a place.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes before you met his gaze.

“Oh yeah? Are you that obsessed with me that you just have to have me around here? You need me to have fun? Cute.”

You could see the flare in his eyes as he rolled his eyes and walked away from you, finding a seat next to one of his side chicks, all of a sudden making out with her in the middle of the classroom. His eyes glared at you. Staring at you while he made out with is billionth chick of the week. What a creep. You stuck a tongue out, turning your focus over to Jisung.

He lifted up and hand, signaling a high five and you did just that, slightly. You let out a sigh. Maybe you could really stand up to him. Maybe even mess around with him a bit, just like he did to you.

These small quarrels went on for a bit. Both of you guys always so happened to bump into each other at the worst timing, and end up bickering over the smallest things.

Once, he fucking tripped you as you were walking to your lunch table with Jisung. Making you fall face flat to the floor.

“I saw what you did, Hyunjin. Apologize,” Jisung said in defense. In response, Hyunjin just lifted to arms and shrugged, acting like he didn’t do anything. You were furious.

The next day, you stole his backpack and threw it in the fountain. Of course, he found you during passing period and shoved you against against a locker.

One day, your teacher announced that there was a new student in our school, joining your homeroom. Honestly, who goes to a new school one month of senior year on a Wednesday? You heard rumors he was hot, but you werent expecting that much until a boy walked in.

“Everyone, meet Lee Minho.” You teacher announced as the guy, introduced as Minho, waved giving a small smile. Somehow he met your gaze, and gave you your own smile. He wasn’t exactly your type, but he was hot. The rumors were exactly right.

Jisung just so happened to be preoccupied in his extracurriculars that time, having to had to leave during class time, but there was an empty seat next to you. Your teacher told Minho to go and sit next to you, which he happily obliged.

“Hey, I’m Minho,” He said as he sat down and faced you. His voice was so calming, like you could practically sleep while listening to him talk. “Well.. you already know that by now. What’s your name?”

“Y/n,” you responded. “Nice to meet you. How’d you end up moving to this school?”

“I dont know.. well I do know. But it’s kind of embarrassing..” he shyly said. “I got in trouble for self defense you could say. This guy punched me first and was going to do the same to my friend.. so I beat him up.” Your mouth gaped. He laughed at your shocked expression. “Don’t worry, I don’t go around beating random people up.”

You let out an exaggerated sigh as a joke and both of you guys laughed. He was sweet, you could definitely tell.

While you were getting to know Minho more, you felt a gaze boring into you. You turned to see Hyunjin staring at the two of you, more so likely to Minho, then back to you and so forth. What was wrong with him?

As the bell rang, you guys parted ways after you asked Minho if he wanted to join you and Jisung for lunch. He happily accepted, having no one else he knew in the school yet. Once you met Jisung in the hallways to go to your other class together, you told him about lunch with Minho. He was ‘skeptical’ at first, saying that Minho may be a serial killer and you may be the next victim. What the hell. So Jisung-like. You slapped him playfully. He whined. You guys both laughed.

Finally lunch came rolling around, and you guys sat in your usual spot. Once you spotted Minho looking around, you waved you hand and he smiled.

“Hey Minho!” You exclaimed as he sat down across from you and Jisung. “This is Jisung, the friend I was talking about?” Jisung waved and put on his stupid grin. Minho smiled, introducing himself. Lunch went smoothly. Minho surprisingly had the same humor as you and Jisung, and you guys all laughed throughout the whole lunch period. However, you caught Hyunjin catching glances over to your table. What a freak.

The bell rang, making all three of you guys split up and head your own ways. You walked to your next period, art class. You loved your art teacher and just art in general. However like always, when you walked in, Hyunjin was there. Sitting right there staring at you.

You don’t even know why and how he’s in art class. A guy like him? Interested in art? Unbelievable.

You ignored him as you made your way to your desk, meeting your in-class friend, Felix. Felix knew about Hyunjin and whatnot, always on your side no matter what. He was your close friend you knew from childhood, but obviously growing up you guys split to different friend groups. You guys still stayed close, especially since you guys shared some classes together.

“Lix!” You exclaimed as you sat down.

“Hey!” He responded, passing you a bottle of your favorite drink - banana milk. You patted him on the back as a thanks. He smiled in response.

Once everyone settled down, your art teacher gave the assignment for the day, allowing everyone to go their own ways. As you were chatting with Felix while you were drawing away, you noticed Hyunjin walking towards you. You groaned, knowing hell was coming your way.

“Y/n,” he spoke softly. “Can i talk to you after school? Serious.”

You glared up at him, scoffing before rolling your eyes.

“Why should I?”

It was his turn to scoff. He slammed his hand on the spot right next to you on your desk and he looked right in your eyes.

“‘Cause I said so. Im serious y/n. I have to talk to you.”

“How about no?”

He gave up easily, what a surprise, and walked off to his desk.

“What was that about.” Felix asked. You shrugged, going back to your artwork.

After the bell rang, you walked out of the classroom heading to your next class before you felt a tug on your wrist and you got pulled back. Startled, you tried to fight back before you were met with Hyunjin’s gaze.

“Wha - what do you want?” You asked, stiffening up as soon as you saw Hyunjin.

“Y/n. Im serious. Talk to me after school? Please.” His face softened, the first time you’ve ever seen his expression so soft. He looked.. genuine. I mean what could possibly go wrong? You accepted, freeing yourself from his grasp as you walked to your next class.

Finally, the bell that indicated that school was over rang. Oh how you were dreading to meet up with Hyunjin. You told Jisung and Minho about the whole situation, which made both of them beg you if they could hide from behind and watch the whole situation. You had no reason to say no so you accepted.

As you were approaching the spot where he asked you to meet you, you saw him, leaning against the wall while he was scrolling on his phone. You looked back to see Jisung give you a big thumbs up and Minho just smiling.

As you got closer, he looked up from his phone and waved.

“Didn’t think you’d actually be here,” he said as he stuffed his phone in his pocket. You rolled your eyes.

“What’d you call me here for? Wanna confess your dying love to me?” You joked, giving him a smile.

“Close,” he responded. “Lets make a deal, yeah?” You glared at him in response.

“Why should I?”

“Because,” he shrugged. “Anyway. Look. Can you pretend to be my girlfriend? Just one day.” Your jaw dropped. You weren’t for sure, but you could also hear Jisung and Minho gasping.

“Why me?” You asked, confused as ever. “We both hate each other. Definitely not a match. There’s other girls in this school that fit you more, and who do you even have to have a fake girlfriend for anyway.”

Hyunjin let out a sigh. He rubbed his face before looking up back at you.

“My little sister. She overheard me talking to my friends about you. A prank I was gonna pull on you. ‘Wow what a shocker’, i know. She thought you were my girlfriend and begged me to bring you home one day. I can’t disappoint my little sister, can I?” You let out a small giggle. You never thought that Hyunjin had a side of him like this. “So?”

“What do I get in return?” You asked, looking up back at him.

“A nice, cute, and very good looking fake boyfriend?” You rolled your eyes. However you thought for a moment. This might help get Hyunjin off your back for good.

“What if I like.. burn the house down and make your sister be in harm's way,” you said. Of course, you wouldn’t. You’ve had babysitting history and you were very good with little kids.

“I’m sure you won’t,” Hyunjin smiled, patting you on the shoulder. He reached into his pockets before pulling out a piece a paper. He brought out his spare hand, signaling you to open yours. You got the memo, and did, and he placed the piece of paper into your hand. “I’ll text you the details okay?” he said before running off..

“Wait! I never said yes yknow?!” You screamed at him but all you got in return was a hand raise from him as he ran off.

Right after he left, you heard hurrying footsteps behind you, and as you turned your head you were attacked by both Jisung and Minho.

“Fuck- what do I do..” you expressed. Jisung placed both hands on your shoulders and shook you, not believing what he heard and saw was right.

“You’re being a fake girlfriend?! For him out if all people? Wake up girlfriend,” Jisung exclaimed. Minho had just heard all this drama between you and Hyunjin during lunch, but he was way too invested.

“What if he murders you at his house?! Y/n, wake up!!” Minho joined in alongside Jisung.

“That’s what I’m saying!!” Jisung agreed.

“Oh my god- you guys are so unbelievable. It’s fine. I won’t die. Promise,” you said tapping them both on the shoulder. “C’mon, lets go.”

Was this some sort of a joke?

Back at home, you were snuggled up in your bed, reading your favorite book. That’s when you remembered the piece of paper Hyunjin gave you previously. You reached into your pocket to find the crumpled up paper that read his number.

You got the piece of paper and pulled out your phone, dialing the number that was supposedly Hyunjin’s.

Hey 6:45pm

You messaged him, now awaiting his response. It didn’t take long for him to start typing.

You Glad you actually messaged me :) I was waiting for your text message 6:48pm

He really was? I guess he really needed you that bad..

You Hm.. so… Are you serious about this whole “fake girlfriend” thing? Istg your messing with me Do you even have a little sister? 6:50pm

Hyunjin Ofc I am Wanna see my little sister? *sends image* 6:51pm

He really did have a sister.. and a really cute and sweet looking one too. Her chubby, rosy cheeks looked so squishable and she looked so friendly.

You Is this little sweet girl from google No way this little girl is your sister 6:53pm

Hyunjin She is my sister and I am her brother Why is it so hard to believe? Are you calling me ugly?! 6:54pm

You Never said that! Although you are very ugly How can a sweet girl be related to your ugly looking ass 6:55pm

Hyunjin You think you’re not ugly?! Your way uglier than me yknow 6:56pm

You scoffed behind the screen. Oh how you wanted to punch him through the screen so bad.

You Ugh. Anyways, when do I have to do this “girlfriend” act.. wait. Aren’t you like pretty popular? You could get any girl and just ask them to come Plus they could be your real, genuine gf Why me? 6:59pm

Hyunjin Cause You’re y/n And my little sis knows your name It’s weird for someone who’s not you to pretend to be you, yeah? 7:01pm

You Ok.. So when? 7:01pm

Hyunjin Uhm.. I hate to break it to you (i don’t. Rlly) Saturday 7:02pm

Saturday? Saturday?! That was like in 2 days. Seriously? Couldn’t he have told you sooner or made the date a little later?

You Saturday?? That’s so soon I dont know who you think I am but I cant just last minute go to a house of a person I hate I have to get mentally ready 7:04pm

Hyunjin It’s not that big of a deal, no? Cmon, i thought you found my little sister cute Do it for her please? 7:05pm

You Ughhh Finnee. What time 7:08pm

Hyunjin Noon 7:10pm read

The next two days went like always, you hung out with Jisung and Minho and there was Hyunjin always bickering with you.

“Hey, wanna go study together at the library?” Minho asked one day while you guys were eating lunch. “Like after school?”

“Cant,” Jisung responded with mouth full of his lunch. “Part-time job, yknow?”

“How about you?” He turned and faced you.

“Hm, I think I can. Yeah, sure. Let’s meet up at the library right after school.” You responded, going back to your tray of food.

After school ended, you parted ways with Jisung after your guys’ last class and went towards the library. There, Minho waved you over once you guys both spotted each other.

Once you sat down, you guys both went ahead to studying. Here and there you guys would chat and giggle.

“Hey isn’t that Hyunjin?” Minho asked looking over you. You turned in response and there he was, leaning against a beanbag that was set in the corner of the library reading some book. “Never knew he was a book guy.”

“Gosh, he’s like everywhere I go.” You groaned, looking back at Minho. “I swear to god this isn’t some coincidence. The lord just hates me.”

Both of you guys laughed at your response and went on with your day.

Saturday came rolling around quick. Dressed in a casual jean and a white shirt, you were standing right in front of the Hwang residents. From the looks of his home, you guessed his family was pretty well off. With a sigh you let out, you walked to the door and pressed the doorbell sitting right next to it.

A few seconds passed without an answer, so you did a good three knocks on the wooden door. You heard a bit of clamoring in there until you heard Hyunjin’s voice shouting.

“Wait a moment!!”

A minute passed before the door opened to reveal a hectic Hyunjin. He was dressed in gray sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt with small stains on it. You almost let out a laugh. You never expected Hwang Hyunjin to ever look so vulnerable like this.

“Hey,” He greeted you, opening the door wider allowing you in.

“Hey,” you responded, neatly taking off your shoes and placing them with the rest in the corner of the doorway. “Where’s your parents? I wanna go say hi..”

“Oh my parents? They’re out, they should be back around dinner time so.”

“Oh alright,” you nodded. “You look uglier than any other days.”

“Are you looking at a mirror?”

He smiled before turning around and leading you to the kitchen while you were containing yourself from not beating him up.

You looked around the hallways, decorated with paintings and images framed up. Now you knew why he was in art class.

“Where’s the infamous little sister you’ve been talking about?” You questioned as you walked in the kitchen.

“Hm? Oh Hyuna. She’s trying to get herself dolled up for you,” He responded, getting out a bottle of what looked like banana milk and handing it to you. “You like banana milk, yeah? I see you drinking it all the time in art class.”

“Yeah.. thanks,” you responded, kind of shocked he caught this detail of you. “Hey, this isn’t drugged or something right?”

He laughed. “What kind of person do you think I am? I hate you but I would never drug you.”

“Hm.. okay,” you said, taking a sip from the container. “Come to think of it, you and Hyuna have very similar names.”

“Yeah.. my parents wanted to go with a theme I guess.” He nodded before muttering a quick ‘wait a minute’ as he turned to a hallway.

“Hyuna~” he yelled as he walked towards a door and opened it. “Y/n’s here, come say hi.”

You heard a small “wait!!” before you saw two small hands pushing Hyunjin out of the room and closing it. Hyunjin sighed in defeat as he walked back towards the kitchen. You giggled to yourself, seeing how cute his little sister was.

He came back to the counter you were leaning against.

“I have a question for you,” he said, turning towards you. You faced him. “Are you like.. dating Jisung or Minho?”

You let out a loud laugh, covering your mouth trying to contain the loud noise coming from your mouth. Hyunjin just looked at you all confused.

“Sorry.. sorry,” you said after you finished your laughing frenzy. “But no, I’m not. Jisung’s just like a brother to me. Me dating him? Ew - ew..”

“Minho?”

“I’ve met him just a few days ago. He’s nice, yeah. But not my style. Just a friend,” you responded, taking another sip from your container.

After your response, it got a bit awkward until the door from the hallway opened up, revealing small little feet as it ran towards you. It was Hyuna. She finally reached the kitchen and just stared at you for a moment.

You could tell Hyuna was indeed Hyunjin’s little sister. She looked so much like Hyunjin, having the same plump lips, the same eyes, and even the same small mole under her eye.

“Hi..!” She said first and broke the silence. You crouched down to get to her level and smiled big.

“And who’s this?” You questioned.

“Hyuna!” She exclaimed. “Are you really my brother’s girlfriend?”

You looked back up to see Hyunjin. He nodded, making you face back Hyuna and nodding sweetly.

“Yup, I’m his girlfriend all right.” You said.

“You’re so pretty!” She said. You blushed and petted her hair.

“You more, princess.”

She smiled. You smiled back.

“Wanna go play?” She asked you, having stars in her eyes.

“Sure!” You happily accepted, getting up and following her quick footsteps to her room.

You guys played doll for what seemed like hours. She seemed to be having fun though, which was all that mattered honestly. Hyunjin on the other end was just in the small chair in the corner of Hyuna’s room reading that same darn book you saw him read that one time in the library. Every once in a while would he also join in on both of you guys.

Around 2pm was when Hyuna got hungry, which made you realize that you were also hungry. Hyunjin offered to make lunch as he got up from his spot and left the room. Meanwhile, you and Hyuna decided to read some picture books she had.

After what seemed like was around 20 minutes, Hyunjin called you guys over. You took Hyuna’s small hand into yours as you guys both walked over to the kitchen.

“Y/n, do you mind getting the pitcher of orange juice from the fridge for Hyuna?” Hyunjin asked while plating the pasta he made onto three plates. You rolled your eyes before opening the fridge as he said so, pulling out the pitcher of orange juice and pouring it into a plastic cup.

As you were pouring, Hyuna accidentally bumped into you while trying to help get the utensils. The bump made you lose a bit of your balance, and you ended up spilling some of the bright, sweet orange juice onto your plain, white shirt. You sighed. Hyunjin saw what happened, quickly grabbing some paper towels and handing it to you.

“You okay? Hyuna, apologize,” he said, following the small words ‘sorry’ muttered by Hyuna.

“It’s fine.. I’ll just clean off in the bathroom,” you told Hyunjin as you were doing your best dabbing the juice off your shirt.

“I could lend you a shirt?” He offered. He quickly ran to his room without even hearing a response from you. You just stood there, comforting Hyuna that you were okay.

What you didn't know was that while he was getting you the hoodie, all he could think of was the way your white t-shirt turned see-through because of the way the orange juice spilled over it. He could see the outline of your bra and the curves that the shirt displayed. Snap yourself out of it! he replayed in his mind before he grabbed the hoodie and went down to meet you.

Once he returned, he handed you a hoodie.

“Sorry, I didn’t have any t shirts,” he said. You still thanked him otherwise and found the restroom to change.

You took off your sticky shirt and placed it in the sink for now. You had brought paper towels in with you, so you used those to clean off the rest of the orange juice on your chest. Once you were all cleaned, you put on Hyunjin’s hoodie.

Gosh what were you doing in your arch-nemesis’s house.

Either way, you were kind of shocked that Hyunjin was so caring, even going as far as to lend you his hoodie. What happened to the tough guy act?

Once you got put together enough, you walked into the kitchen holding your wet shirt in your hand.

“Hyunjin, can I have a bag to put my shirt in?” You asked. He nodded, and he got up from his seat and digged through the pantry. He found a bag, and opened it in front of you, signaling you to put your shirt in the bag. You did so, and after all the chaos ended, you finally sat down and ate your lunch.

Surprisingly, the pasta was not so bad, decent actually, especially since an 18 year old guy made it.

“Not bad..” you muttered under your breath. Apparently, Hyunjin must have heard you because he chuckled and said “thanks.”

Once everyone got to eat their full, Hyuna asked if you guys could go to the nearby park that was close to their home. You also wanted a bit of fresh air, so you turned to Hyunjin and mouthed a ‘please?’ while Hyuna kept begging.

He finally said yes, and Hyuna jumped around in joy while you were jumping in your mind.

You guys decided to walk there. Before leaving, Hyunjin grabbed his wallet and an emergency lollipop for Hyuna just in case. In the middle of the walk, Hyuna felt tired, asking Hyunjin to carry her. He sighed, acting all annoyed.

“You’re a big girl aren’t you? You can walk.”

Contrasting to his reaction he still crouched down, allowing Hyuna to get behind him and wrap her little arms around his neck. He lifted her up, having her in a piggyback ride.

After that, the trip went smoothly. All of you guys kept talking about what Hyuna would want to talk about. Finally reaching the park, Hyunjin let Hyuna go to play on the play structure.

“Don’t get hurt!” Hyunjin yelled at Hyuna while she ran off. Hyunjin really wasn’t that bad of a guy.

“I have a question,” you said as you guys both sat down on the bench.

“Hm?”

“Why do you pick on me so much?” You turned to face him. “You’re so mean at school and to me but then you turn into such sweetheart to your sister. Such a two-face jerk.” You muttered that last part as you turned back, facing away from him.

“Because I hate you? Duh,” he shrugged.

“Okay but why? What did I do?”

“I dont know. You just irritate me every time I see you.” It was a fact to him. But not because you annoyed him the way everyone thought. You annoyed him because the way you looked. His heart would pound whenever he saw you, especially when you were all mad and furious. It was kind of hot.

“Wow thanks,” you sarcastically said, scoffing.

Just as you guys were both starting to bicker again, Hyuna ran over to you guys on the bench.

“Can you guys play with me?” She asked. You sadly declined because of the bad back you’ve had for a bit, so Hyunjin excused himself and went to play with his sister.

He chased after Hyuna, running in circles together. It was cute for a moment, until you realized what you were just thinking about Hyunjin. Cute? He is a jerk. Never ever.

Once time had past a bit, you guys decided to head home. Hyuna whined begging to stay a bit longer, but Hyunjin firmly said no, saying how he was tired and possibly you were too. You agreed, promising Hyuna to play more with her at the house. She finally gave in, asking Hyunjin to lift her up again. He groaned, letting out an exhausted sigh. You’ve had experience with holding kids when you used to babysit. Maybe this wouldn’t be different at all.

“I can carry her,” you offered, making Hyunjin’s head snap in your direction, wide eyed.

“No.. Y/n, you don’t have to. I was just joking,” he muttered slowly. You kept insisting, saying how he was probably exhausted and tired like he said he was from playing around with Hyuna. He said something under his breath before finally obliging to your request.

You picked up Hyuna, and she was more than happy.

“You’re so strong!” She exclaimed, making you giggle and lightly pinch her cheeks.

“Yeah? I’m strong right?” You looked over to Hyunjin. “Way stronger than your brother. He's so weak, not wanting to carry his own sister, right?” Hyuna nodded, making you laugh and Hyunjin frown.

“Hey I’m stronger!” Hyunjin semi-yelled, making him face to face with Hyuna. Mid-walk, they were having a staring contest. Such siblings.

By the time you guys reached home, Hyuna fell asleep in your arms.

“I could take her to her room,” Hyunjin whispered, opening his arms so he could take Hyuna from you.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll just lay her in bed and come back,” you responded, lightly making your way to Hyuna’s room.

There, you laid down Hyuna on her bed and covered her in her sheets. She looked so cute sleeping. Would Hyunjin also be-

No! What’s wrong with you? Hyunjin’s your sworn enemy.

You patted Hyuna on the head before turning around and leaving. Right as you exited her room and closed the door, you yelped in shock after seeing Hyunjin leaning against the wall next to the door.

“H-hi?” You stammered.

“Are you gonna leave?” Was all he said, having his arms crossed.

“That’s what I was planning to do, why?”

“I could drop you off.”

What was this Hyunjin and what happened to the one who would play pranks on you and make fun of you?

“Uhm,” you hesitantly said. “Why?”

“Because, it’s starting to get dark. I may hate you but I’m still a gentleman,” he shrugged, making his way to the door. You quickly followed him behind, grabbing your belongings before you started to put your shoes on.

“Why’re you being so nice to me,” you casually said as you followed Hyunjin to his car. He turned back and just stared into your eyes.

“I may be a jerk, but Im not letting a kid go home by themselves when its getting dark,” he answered, turning around on his heels as he walked to the drivers side.

“I’m not a kid?!” You yelled. “Im eighteen, just the same as you.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever.”

You got into his car. A really nice one, considering that he was just a senior in high school. Before leaving, Hyunjin handed you his phone. You looked at him all confused before he turned to face you and gave an eyebrow raise.

“Music?” was all he said before you took the phone from his hand and was scrolling through his spotify.

You turned on a song, ‘A Song Nobody Knows’ by Colde. As soon as you turned it on, you could see the satisfaction in Hyunjin’s face.

“You like Colde?” He asked while still keeping his eyes on the road. One hand on the wheel with the other on the hand rest. You nodded, smiling as you put down his phone and just looked out the window.

The car ride was fairly calm. Either of you too tired to start bickering and Hyunjin too focused on getting you home. Once you guys arrived, you got out of the car, thanking Hyunjin for the ride.

He really wasn’t such a bad guy sometimes..

You entered your home. All quiet and dark due to your parents working late yet again. You reached your room, putting down your stuff in their designated spots. However you noticed something. Your wallet was missing. Did you drop it somewhere?

You Hyunjin.. Did I leave my wallet in your car? 5:27pm

You were expecting to get an answer late, knowing that he was driving. But he he answered fairly quickly.

Hyunjin Hm Yeah Want me to drop it off? 5:30pm

You No its fine Just give it to me on monday 5:31pm

Hyunjin I insist I’ll be there soon 5:32pm read

Alright.. i guess he was coming soon. After about 5 minutes or so, there was a knock at your door. You quickly got to it and opened it to see Hyunjin standing there with a smug smile.

“Thanks,” you said, reaching for the wallet that was in his hand.

“No problem,” he responded. “Hm, I may have taken some cash by the way. Yknow, the trip costed me gas.” You looked at him in a ‘i knew it’ expression as you opened the wallet to the cash compartment.

“It’s all gone!” You exclaimed. There was 50 bucks or so in there, and apparently Hyunjin took it all. “Hyunji-“

Before you could finish your sentence he was already running off to his car screaming a faint “see you on monday!”

What a jerk.

You were laying in bed, happily reading your book when you got a notification. You opened it up to see it was from Hyunjin.

Hyunjin Gosh Im sorry to ask y/n But can we do this again? Not that i want to Ew But Hyuna liked u very much And wants to hang out again 8:49pm

You scoffed. Again? You’d have to get something in return.

You Hm Sure 8:51pm

Hyunjin Really? Thank you 8:52pm

You But. I want something in return 8:53pm

Hyunjin Uhm I’ll think about it What is it 8:54pm

You Take me to a concert? Or at least give me the money for it I’ll do it for you multiple times then 8:55pm

Hyunjin What?! Are you crazy No way Im paying for your stupid concert Money doesnt grow on trees yknow 8:57pm

You Shouldve thought the same way when you got that bougie car As a 18 yr old thats too much! 8:58pm

Hyunjin Okay well thats me Not you 8:59pm

You Ok then I guess no more hangouts 🤷‍♀️ You do you.. Do you really wanna disappoint your sis? That’s so mean of you :( 9:01pm

Hyunjin Wait No. I’ll pay you in another way? 9:02pm

You Hmm No thanks! 9:02pm

Hyunjin Who’s the concert for anyway Which artist 9:04pm

You Twice My lovely girlies 9:05pm

Hyunjin Ughhh Fine. 9:06pm

You You got yourself a deal, young sir 9:06pm read

You smiled to yourself.

These small hangouts happened often from there on. Parks, malls, you name it, you were there with Hyuna and Hyunjin. At school, he’d still pick on you, yes, but his demeanor changed when you hung out with Hyuna. He was kinder, a lot nicer. You liked that Hyunjin, the one that would actually care for you sometimes, although he’d still start bickering.

Once he even insisted you guys hung out at an amusement park, saying how Hyuna kept begging to go with you. Hyuna really opened up to you, looking up to you as a role model. You found her cute too. You accepted his offer, obviously just for Hyuna.

He informed you that his parents would also be there, saying how they wanted you and Hyunjin to have your own free time besides being with Hyuna the whole time.

Ugh. Being alone with Hyunjin.

You guys got there early, around 9am, which meant you guys would be at the park for a bit. You guys followed around Hyuna, taking care of her, giving his parents their own little date. Riding the carousel, riding a kiddie coaster, it was fun yes.

You three were in line for the kiddie coaster and there was this kind lady with her own kid.

“Aww, you guys make such a good couple. It isn’t that easy to be such young parents. It seem’s you guys are doing a good job raising her.” She smiled, talking to you guys as if you and Hyunjin were parents. You were flustered, cheeks reddening. You weren’t even out of high school yet. Maybe you did look mature..

“No ma’am that’s no-“

“Thank you so much,” Hyunjin cut you off, giving a kind smile to the lady. “My wife here is doing such a good job, am I right?”

Hyunjin and the lady chit chatted for a bit before it was her turn to get on the ride. Hyuna just looking up at the whole convo the whole time.

“What the hell was that about?” You semi-screamed at Hyunjin after the lady left, hitting him on the arm.

“What?” He shrugged. “Why would I break her heart telling her the truth that we were not a couple and pure enemies. Telling a white lie sometimes is better.”

You covered Hyuna’s ears with your hands before saying a low “you fucking psycho.” He just laughed.

It was around 3pm when you guys met up with his parents, eating lunch, then trading places taking care of Hyuna.

“Im so tired~” you said while stretching your arms, walking alongside Hyunjin. He hummed in response.

He looked to face you, staring at your face before saying “your uglier than normal today.”

“That was so out of pocket!” You exclaimed, slapping him on the back. He rubbed the spot you hit him, giving you a smug look.

“What? I’m just saying the truth.” He said, facing forward again. “Wanna get some cotton candy?”

Wow changing the subject.. well you did like cotton candy so you couldn’t just decline his offer.

“Sure,” you said before doing a little run to the cotton candy stand. It was those stands where they make the flower-shaped ones.

“17 bucks?” You muttered under you breath. Why was it so expensive?

“Why? Too expensive for your broke ass?” He asked while in line. You rolled your eyes. “It’s fine, I’ll buy you one.” At least he was going to do that!

Once you got your cotton candy, you squealed. It looked so pretty. Each string of candy weaving into each other, the colors coordinating with one another so well.

“I gotta show Jisung and Minho this,” you said, taking out your phone from your small purse.

“I could take a photo for you. Go stand over there,” Hyunjin said, pointing to a direction as he held out his hand for you to put your phone in. You happily obliged, putting your phone in his hand before you ran to your spot.

“Cheese~” he said before snapping some photos of you. “There, done.” You walked over to where he was, seeing the photos he took. “Hey i especially like this one. You look extra ugly here.” He said while pointing to a picture he took when you weren’t even ready.

“Fuck you,” you muttered. You snatched your phone from his hand, sending some of the photos he took of you to your group chat with Jisung and Minho.

They couldn’t believe you were still doing this for Hyunjin, well not after you told them about your deal. Jisung kept calling Hyunjin a jerk, and Minho just sat along with Jisung agreeing.

“I’m kinda tired, wanna just go hang out in the ferris wheel?” You nonchalantly asked, turning to face him. He nodded, making you run to the big ferris wheel that was at the center of the park.

“Why do you run so fast?” He asked, panting after he caught up with up.

“Maybe you’re just slow,” you shrugged. You turned to the worker saying “two people, please.” He rolled his eyes.

Once you guys got on in your car, you sat facing each other. You thought it’d be awkward being in silence like this, but it really wasn’t. He handed you one side if his earphones, which you gladly accepted, putting it on to listen to the calming songs on his playlist. It was nice, sitting there and looking down at the view while you were going up. Despite your fear in heights, you found ferris wheels to be fairly calming.

However, when you guys were towards the very top, there was a gust of wind, making the car shake. You yelped, jumping in your seat. The wind increased the fear you had. You noticed that Hyunjin was staring at you, a mixed expression of shock and worry.

“Are.. you okay?” He asked. He didn’t even seem to be affected by the tumbling the car was experiencing. You shook your head. You had your eyes closed, trying not the focus so hard on the shaking when you felt Hyunjin getting closer and sitting down on your side. You took a peep at him from the side, and he embraced you in a hug. A warm hug. He was genuinely trying to comfort you. “Are you scared of heights?”

You nodded slowly, muttering a few words about how ferris wheels really didn’t affect you. Once the shaking stopped, you felt relief.

“Thank you..” you whispered under your breath. He nodded, and he stayed there the whole time. The ferris wheel made a few rounds. During one of them, while you were just staring out at the window, Hyunjin tapped you on the lap. You turned to face him, curious of why he tapped u.

“I have something to tell you.” He said, looking down at his feet, tapping his heels onto the floor. You tilted your head, awaiting for his ‘something to tell you.’ He let out a sigh.

“I.. don’t know how to tell you this.. I’ve been pondering about this for a while but..” he took a deep breath in. He looked up to you and met your eyes. His eyes were glistening. “I like you.”

You stared at him, in shock. He dropped his head back to the ground, sighing.

Him? Liking you? What a load of bullshit

“This isn’t some kind of prank right? Don’t be fucking with me right now Hyunjin,” you said, shaking his arm trying to get him to look up. “Hyunjin. I swear to god.”

“Im not pranking you. I’m genuine. I.. have feelings for you. Ever since sophomore year. Wanna know why I’ve been always messing with you? To get your attention. It seemed to be working, so I kept doing it. I feared that if I stopped, then you’d also stop talking to me. Im always thinking about you. In the morning, during classes, at night before going to sleep? You’re always in my mind. Your smile means everything to me, your laugh is the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard, and the way you act with my sister? Gosh that added extra points. Im so in love with you, I can’t handle it. I just had to tell you sooner or later..” he finally looked up at you, allowing you to see the tears building up in his eyes. He looked so vulnerable, like he was on the verge of breaking down and bawling his eyes out.

You instinctively hugged him, tight. Patting his back.

“I.. like you too.” You whispered into his ear.

It’s true. Every time you kept hanging out with Hyunjin outside of school, you saw the real side of him, being playful to his sister, being nice to his parents, and being nice to you. The way he treated you got your heart fluttering even though you didn’t wanna admit it. He got you staying up late at night, daydreaming in class. He was everywhere.

He pulled away from you, staring into your eyes.

“You.. do?”

You nodded, smiling a little when the tears finally started to trickle down his cheek.

You hugged him back, whispering a little “jerk”. He slapped you on the back, chuckling when you yelped a little.

Ever since that day, you guys have been hanging out a lot through the weekends. Going out on small dates.

“you’re dating WHO?” Jisung yelled when you told him and Minho the following Monday at lunch.

“Hyunjin..” you muttered.

“Hyunjin? Like THE hwang hyunjin?” Minho asked in shock. You nodded, making their jaw drop.

“We grew a little closer as I was hanging out with his little sister,” you said, shoving food into your mouth. “He’s not that bad of a guy, he’s like very nice.”

“Very nice in your dreams” Jisung scoffed, shoving his own food in his mouth.

As you were laughing, you felt a pair of arms hugging you from behind. You turned around to see Hyunjin, smiling. He gave you a small peck on the cheek as he sat down.

“Hey,” he said, referring to Jisung and Minho. They said hi back, Jisung with an annoyed look on his face. You rolled your eyes, looking back at Hyunjin.

“Hi!” You greeted him, giving him a peck on the cheek back. Jisung jokingly, well at least you hope so, gagged. Minho just slapped him on the back.

It was Friday, meaning that the weekends were finally here. You decided to hang out at Hyunjin’s house, like you always did.

“Hey!” You greeted him once he opened the front door to let you in.

“Is that my hoodie?” Was the first thing he said when he saw you. You looked down to see what you were doing, laughing when you realized.

“Remember that time I spilled orange juice? And you gave me this hoodie? Its from then,” you said before pulling Hyunjin into a hug. His cheeks flushed.

His parents were going out on a nice dinner themselves, asking if you guys could watch Hyuna. It wasn’t anything new, so you happily accepted. Hyunjin just sighed.

“I wanted us to hang out..” he pouted, sticking his bottom lip out. You gave him a peck on his lips.

“We are,” you smugged. He rolled his eyes.

“You know what I mean.”

“It’s fine. Hyuna isn’t even that bad of a girl anyways. She’s cute, gentle, kind. And did I mention cute?” He gave a small breathy laugh. You turned your back against Hyunjin, calling out a “Hyuna~!” as you ran towards her room. Hyunjin sighed before quickly following your footsteps.

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