#this is going to be a keg boys fic

[hemera989]

as much as i love these fics where billy is rocking tommy’s shit, i think we’re lowkey underestimating how strong tommy is, like

and this is with the guy he has a crush on!! both physically and mentally, he was ready to rock steve’s shit. and steve still put up a hell of a fight against billy, despite losing in the end.

so basically, what i’m saying is, maybe billy might win in the end but i would KILL to see an actual showdown between billy and tommy. i think even if billy won, it would be a hella close victory and he’d be walking away just as fucked up.

[rinhaler]

NOTSCAREDNOTSCAREDNOTSCARED!

✧˖*°࿐ : 18+ only, no minors.    ✧. ┊ frat boy!oliver aiku x f!reader

Genre: college!au (mostly shameless smut tbh) Notes: first fic on my new blog and it's absolutely disgusting, enjoy. Warnings: 18+, noncon, somnophilia, drugging, virgin killer!oliver, implied virgin reader, tit sucking, pussy eating, biting, fingering, marking, love bites ♡, creampie, spit, alcohol consumption, lmk if I missed any!! Words: 5.3k

What a naïve little thing you are.

That’s the first thing Oliver thinks when he sets his sights on you. A shy, sweet girl wearing the one and only cocktail dress you probably own. It’s so simple but makes a loud statement. You don’t look like the other girls here. You aren’t wearing designer clothes that fit you like a glove, no. The ill-fitting garment you’ve chosen to wear speaks volumes to your innocent nature and your lack of confidence. You don’t have friends, do you? You’re here, alone, in the sleaziest and most prolific fraternity on campus. Of course, it’s a party, and anyone is welcome to attend. But the fact that you decided to come here, alone, makes him think you might be a little stupid.

But that suits him just fine.

He doesn’t approach immediately, for fear of giving the game away too soon. He bides his time and observes your behaviours and mannerisms as you wade through the crowds. His eyes have followed your longing gaze a few times and noticed how you keep looking towards the kitchen. It’s the busiest room in the house right now, he assumes. That’s where the keg and all of the alcohol is.

But almost as soon as you look that way, you avert your eyes and look elsewhere in search of a place to belong. You’ve tried starting a few conversations with the girls, but Oliver knows how catty and mean they can be. Poor thing, fresh meat like you doesn’t stand a chance.

You’re lonely, aren’t you? You’ll feel better with a little company, yeah?

He carefully walks by you in a way that will cause you to spill the drink from your grasp. And with that, this sinful game can begin. The one in which he tells you how sorry he is for causing an accident and ruining your dress. He’s so apologetic that you just can’t help but forgive him right away. And his attractiveness doesn’t go amiss. The kindest person you’ve met thus far just so happens to be so deliciously handsome.

“Let me get you a refill, it’s only fair.” he winks. And you hate yourself because your stomach flits at the casual gesture. It’s probably a line that he uses on all of the girls he meets at parties like this. It’s plain to see that he’s confident. You’re sure there won’t be a shortage of girls throwing themselves at him after a gesture like that.

But you aren’t stupid enough to be the same.

He seems older, by at least two years. He seems comfortable enough here to get you a drink so maybe this is his party. He could have a girlfriend for all you know that is in another room and completely oblivious. You don’t want to make waves before you even experience your first day of class.

People seem friendlier towards you when they notice you with him. Is it genuine? Or could they be laughing at you? His hand resides in the small of your back as he guides you far into the kitchen; until you’re standing between an island counter and the fridge. Your body is warming, and, fuck, he can feel it. You’re so shy. He hasn’t seen a girl like you in a long time. The slightest bit of attention and touching and you’re putty in his hand. What a good girl you are, he’s going to have so much fun with you.

You watch him, carefully, as he rummages through the fridge and grabs a can of beer.

You’re a little deflated as he cracks it for himself and begins to chug.

“I didn’t catch your name.” he states as his unmistakable eyes watch you intently. He has eyes you’ve never seen before, and you’ll have a hard time forgetting. Mismatched purple and green. They’re dull, but not uninteresting by any means. They’re the eyes of a man who always gets what he wants. Those eyes beautiful eyes… they’re bored because they are a prestigious, all access key to gain whatever his heart desires. You hum, hesitating for a moment until you decide you’re too awkward and uncomfortable to hide your name from him. “Oh, that’s a real pretty name. I’m Oliver.” he introduces himself.

“Hey… Oliver.” you smile, unsure of how to respond. You’re so on edge. His peculiar eyes are examining each and every movement you make like you’re being graded. And your heart is pounding… you can’t help yourself. Nobody here has extended so much as a pitying smile. You want to pass his test, he’s the only person being remotely nice to you. But still, there’s a gnawing feeling eating away and corroding your insides and it makes you feel like a criminal, like you’re doing something wrong.

Like you absolutely should not be talking to him right now.

“You’re pretty too.” he smiles, brazenly. His voice is so deep and charming, a sonorous lull as he knows all he needs to do is utter these three simple words to get a girl like you to be completely and utterly captivated. It’s such a pathetic, insipid sentence and you can’t stand that it’s working on you.

You get a full view of his wide, toothy grin and you sense that he’s trying to extend a gesture of trust to you. And you’re encapsulated by it. Pristine pearls almost blinding you and short circuiting your brain as you arrive at the realisation that he might be perfect. His features nothing short of perfection and accentuate his beguiling persona that you can’t get enough of. You haven’t even noticed the way your chest is heaving as you devour a mind-altering cocktail with him as the main ingredient.

And he can’t help but chuckle when he notices how flustered you’ve become from his words, you adorable thing. Three little words are making you squeeze your thighs together and fold your arms over your chest. And don’t think he hasn’t noticed the quickened breaths you’re taking and the dampening forehead you’re suddenly trying to wipe away. He’s noticing everything about you and making mental notes in his mind he will use later.

Do you know how vulnerable you’re being?

You should know better than to be so visibly rattled by him. He may be handsome but he’s hardly screaming upstanding citizen at you. It’s the facial hair. It’s so grotesque and sleazy and wholly unpleasant. And still, the only thought swirling around your tiny, tipsy mind is how it would feel against your skin as you kiss. How would the scruff feel between your inner thighs as he devoured your petalled flesh. You shouldn’t be thinking like this, you aren’t sure what’s wrong with you.

You don’t know how to act, do you?

“Don’t be so nervous, sweetheart.” he tells you, getting closer. The smell of his cologne invading your senses. It’s familiar, it smells expensive and suits him just fine. The type of fragrance you’d save for a special occasion to make an impact and impress people you’re around. Your nostrils flare as you inhale more. More of it. More of him. You need more.

He angles his head as he monitors your response to his proximity. He grins when he notes that you aren’t sure where to put your hands. Moving them a few times before you decide to grip the overhang of the counter behind you until the skin covering your knuckles are taut, turning white. You want to feel his chest, don’t you? It’s so broad and muscular and peaking under his shirt, he doesn’t blame you. You probably haven’t had much experience with a guy like him.

He's more than happy to show you.

You’re starting to think your heart is packing up its belongings and preparing to flee from your own chest as you feel it beating rapidly against your ribs. He’s so intoxicating, you feel lightheaded and overwhelmed by the mere presence of him. His body is trapping yours against the counter. He’s so damn tall, taller than you could have possibly imagined now that he’s pressed against you like this. Your cheeks fill with heat, and you think you might actually faint against him if he doesn’t move away. “There are bad guys at places like this, y’know? Dangerous place to be so pretty.” he warns you, whispering gently in your ear. The tone rushing through your veins and forcing you to shiver. His eyes meet yours after he speaks, his stare willing you to understand what he’s saying.

“T-Thank you…” you mumble.

“Hey, don’t worry so much. I’m the house president, I’ll keep an eye on you.” he assures you, moving away ever so slightly while keeping a lingering hand on your shoulder. A commanding touch to make your body and your mind focus on him. His hand is cold to the touch and you realise it’s from holding the metal can, cold from the refrigerator. The cooling caress of his fingers is polar opposite to the warm smile he’s offering you. You aren’t sure what to do or say, but you need not worry about yourself anymore. He had intended on doing all of your thinking for you tonight, anyway. “Oh, shit, you wanted a drink, right? Let me get one for you.” he speaks, his body moving to act before you can even answer.

“U-Um…” you hesitate, seeing him grab a bottle of rum and a mixer. You hate spirits because they always get you embarrassingly wasted. There are four prominent occasions in the forefront of your mind as you reminisce on the states you’ve found yourself in after drinking spirits. The smell alone is enough to make you gag, but you do all you can to ignore it. You don’t want to make a fool of yourself, you don’t want to do something humiliating that will be talked about for years to come.

You aren’t a prude; you aren’t opposed to getting drunk. You just don’t think it’s a good way to introduce yourself.

He’s moving so fast, and his back is to you as he pours your drink, the red solo cup obscured from your vision as he fills it to the brim for you.

You dumb little thing.

Isn’t this something you’ve been warned about? Not letting your drinks out of your sight at any point, ever. Of course you have, it’s rule number one of going to parties or nightclubs or anywhere that your drink can be tampered with.

You just aren’t thinking straight.

And why would you?

You’re so out of place in this big, intimidating environment. You’re hardly going to suspect the first person to show you a bit of kindness is actually the shadiest guy at the party. But deep down, you know you should consider everyone a suspect after hearing what he had to say. If the guys here are so shady, why does he stick with them? If he’s the president, why doesn’t he tell them to do better?

These few fleeting thoughts have been nothing but. Passing ideas that you thought of and discarded as quickly as they arrived. You can’t live your life in fear or you’ll never make any friends here. And he’s going to all of this trouble for you. You’re nobody to him, and he’s still finding it in his heart to extend a benevolent demeanour to you and making sure you have a drink and a friendly face to keep you company for the night.

So you aren’t going to think twice that he’s slipped something in your drink, you can’t see what he’s doing, but for some reason, you trust him. Would you trust him, still, if he wasn’t so good looking? Would you trust him less if he hadn’t announced he is the fraternity president? He knows you’d never have trusted receiving a drink from him if he just offered it to you out of nowhere.

He’s happy he didn’t have to work too hard, you aren’t completely stupid, but you’re still dumb enough to accept a drink from him like this. You barely even think about it as he flashes you a beaming smile and hands it to you. Hell, it might even loosen you up. You knock half of it back in three seconds and you giggle after the fact.

He’s laughing too.

But it’s at your expense, you poor, sweet thing. You’re going to be seeing so many stars tonight, a sight reserved for Oliver’s favourite angels.

“You’re crazy, huh? You like to party a lot, baby?” he wonders, taking another swig of his drink as he rests against the fridge beside him.

“No, never! This is my first big party.” you confess, and he doesn’t miss the way you slightly cringe at yourself for saying something you must think is a little embarrassing. “I mean, I’ve been to parties… this one is just—”

“You’ll get used to it.” he tells you. “The first one is always memorable, though.”

“Really? How come?” you ask, curiously.

God you’re so cute, it’s killing him. Even he can’t hide the smirk forming on his face as he tries to conceal it with his beer. He decides to not answer. Instead, he admires the way you look disappointed at the prospect of him losing interest in you. He thinks he could bathe in the watery sheen glossing over your eyes as you worry that you’ve said something so stupid that he doesn’t want to talk to you anymore.

He's such a disgustingly vile man. All he can think to do is refuse to put you out of your misery. Instead, he revels in the way you knock back the rest of your drink. The way your eyes widen paints a perfect picture in telling him it was too strong for you. Stronger than anything you’ve ever drank in your life. And that’s without the added ingredient he decided to slip in.

“I— do you have a girlfriend?” your question is abrupt as you wipe the excess liquid from your plump lips. Your watery eyes watching him keenly as you do your best to decipher his intentions.

“No.”

You scoff and shake your head. “I don’t even know why I asked you that, as if you’d tell the truth.” you mumble to yourself, but it’s loud enough for him to hear. And just as you’re about to walk away, he responds.

“I don’t care if you know whether I have a girlfriend or not. I would only care if I was trying to fuck you.” the sentence rolls off his tongue with ease. Like he knew exactly what you were going to say before you even thought of it. And you feel a wave of humiliation crash throughout your body; you feel a current trying to drag you under and suffocate you under the foaming sea.

“Y-You aren’t?” you need to stop talking. You need to stop embarrassing yourself like this. For his benefit. For the other people in the kitchen with you. It feels like everyone is staring at you and laughing at your expense. Maybe you’re just drunk and being paranoid. You should go, you should sprint out of here with whatever small scraps of dignity you have left.

He shakes his head, his hand reaching out to yours to pull you closer to him. It trails, up your side and to your chin as your eyes fixate on his. His thumb smooths over your chin, encouraging you to open your mouth for him. He tilts his can of beer onto your lower lip. The golden, yeasty liquid spills from the metal container and onto your tongue. Your eyes don’t leave his as all you can do is stand there and take it. Your little throat expanding with each glug of the disgustingly bitter drink.

Your body is once again pressed against the counter. He snickers when he feels your body jolt against his as you hear the sound of the beer can he was holding clattering against the tiled floor. And he takes great delight in the way your body melts against his touch as he places a hand on your hip. The other, smoothing the shell of your ear before he levels his mouth with it.

“I don’t need to try, I’m going to fuck you.” he whispers, he kisses against your ear a few times and the sound rushes straight to your clit. You squeeze your thighs together again hoping to alleviate the brewing tension. You pray you were discreet enough for him to not notice.

You weren’t.

And it’s worse as he kisses your neck so openly in front of everyone. He sucks and sucks and sucks until his name is signed in blue and purple blooms against your skin. You bite your lip, internally cursing him for forcing you to have to wear a scarf for the coming weeks until it fades away.

“S-Stop it.” your legs buckle and there is something wrong with your eyes. The room won’t stop spinning. You didn’t drink that much, did you?

“Woah!” Oliver exclaims as you fall into his hold. “You don’t know how to handle your drink, hm? I think you need to sleep it off.”

“T-Tax—”

“No, no. I’d be a terrible host if I made you get a taxi all by yourself. C’mon.” he lifts you with ease, your entire body limp in his arms. And he just can’t believe how lucky he is. How blessed he is to be born so genetically gifted. Because he knows there is no way in hell he’d be getting away with this if he wasn’t attractive. Girls looking at him like he’s some kind of hero coming to your rescue. Him, a hero. It would almost be hilarious if it wasn’t so fucking tragic.

There’s no way you’re forgetting your first frat party.

He’ll make sure of that.

As he passes a few of his brothers on the stairs, they all share a knowing look. Like this isn’t the first time Oliver has been in this predicament. And it surely won’t be the last. He winks at them as he walks by, and he puts you down as he reaches his door, your body dropping like a stone as he lets you fall with no care.

You can do nothing but groan as he drags you by your underarms and into his room. God you want to go home. Not to your student accommodation. Home. You want to be with your parents and under your own roof, sleeping in your own bed. It’s hard to even tell where you are. Are you still in the kitchen? No, there’s no way.

All you can think about is how tired you are.

Suddenly, you’re in the air, being flung onto a nearby bed. You feel like your body doesn’t belong to you. You’re no longer in control and you can’t move your limbs how you want to. You want to use your legs and walk right on out of here and into a taxi.

But you’re lucky, really.

Your body doesn’t belong to you anymore. It’s all his. His to do whatever he wants with. You can’t move, and yet Oliver is going to be kind enough to move you however he likes. Maybe you don’t feel so lucky about it. But you’re just confused right now. Oliver knows you wanted this. Wanted him. The pill in your drink was just a little insurance policy to make sure everyone got what they want.

He prefers girls like this anyway.

Nice ‘n pliant.

“Said I’d take care of you, didn’t I?” he smiles, lecherous hands feeling each and every inch of your body. A curious hand reaching up to touch the fat flesh of one of your tits as he massages it over your tiny little dress. “Think you can wear something like this and expect me not to fuck you?” he whispers.

“Mmmpf…” you hum, there’s still a little defiance in you. At this point, he wouldn’t mind if you were on the cusp of sleep. There’s something so special to him about extracting salacious moans from unconscious bodies.

“’m just getting you out of this little thing… gonna find a comfy t-shirt for you to wear to sleep.” he assures you. He wonders if you believe him. He almost believes himself. But as he pulls down the strapless bust of your dress and your supple flesh is revealed to him, the thought of covering it again dies an instant death in his mind. “Fuuuuuck, gorgeous fuckin’ tits.” he moans, his bulge straining against his jeans as envisions himself sucking them until they’re puckered and raw.

He climbs over you, your tiny frame beneath his domineering one. He’s sure you hadn’t neglected to notice how muscular he is before you passed out, even beneath his clothes. He must be some kind of athlete. He’s too beefy not to be. And boy, does he use his weight and size to his advantage when he’s dealing with delicate things like you.

His head practically falls from his shoulder as he decides to let his fantasy come to life. He licks and laves over your tits individually until he gets a little rougher. Softly nibbling the tender buds until they are aching and so sore. His teeth bruise your flesh as he marks them. An assortment of canines and molars as well as decorative love bites.

Any chance you had of forgetting this party are gone.

You’ll know what happened to you.

You might even remember who did it.

But there’s no way a sweet, timid freshman like you is going to have the courage to tell such an unbelievable tale. You might think there are steps in place to protect innocent things like you. You’re a victim, after all. You need protecting. But once again, that would just be so telling as to how naïve you truly are. Drugging pretty girls at college parties is never going to end. The staff, the students, even the police are never going to side with you.

And why would they? These false statements issued by the board, talks of ‘standing with victims’ and offering a listening ear are nothing but lip service. The institution you have found yourself in will say anything to seem like a worthwhile choice. The right and most beneficial choice to you and your future.

But the harrowing truth is that they don’t have time to protect girls like you when they are too busy covering up the messes of men like him.

He pushes your dress up to your midsection, exposing a pair of white lace panties.

“Awe, for me? You knew you were gonna get lucky tonight, didn’t you?” he asks. But of course, you’re unresponsive. His finger prods at the thin material, an involuntary laugh leaving his lungs as he is greeted with the feeling of your soaked underwear on the pad of his digit. “Too dumb t’speak right now… good job your cunt is telling me how much you want me.”

His thumb circles your clit over the material. And even he’s a little dumbfounded at the way your body betrays you. You squirm and your brows furrow as you try to stave off the pleasurable feeling. But for all he knows, you could be trying to fight him off.

He doesn’t care, though, your pussy already gave your true feelings away.

Even he can’t ignore the way his cock is leaking at the sight of your tight heat becoming exposed as he peels away your panties. A slick string connecting your sex to the material.

You must be a virgin, he thinks. Virgins get wet so easily. He suspected it from the moment he saw you. You’re so awkward and uncomfortable around people, but especially guys. You fumble over your words, and you can’t flirt to save your fucking life. But he didn’t care. The thought of your first time being with him was enough to make him want you. And even if you have fucked before. It doesn’t matter, he doesn’t need to know. The very thought is enough.

He pins your knees to your chest, and he begins to feast on your dripping cunt. You shudder as your body feels the tension building with each suckle and slurp against your clit. It’s unrelenting, he can’t get enough of you. He’s fucking addicted to the taste of your slick and he doesn’t know how he’s gone so long without it. Your left leg ragdolls as he lets go, opting to slip a finger into your unprepared hole without stopping his assault on your swollen clit.

And without hesitation, he’s adding another. He takes his time scissoring you open, and by now he’s convinced you’re a virgin. You’re so fucking tight. There’s no way you’ve had a dick inside of you. Or if you have, it must have been small.

You won’t have to worry about that with him.

Even unconscious, he’s sure you’ll feel how he’s gonna stretch you.

Your lazy groans are like a cheer to him. Your body is telling him what a great job he’s doing. How close you are. How badly you want to cum in his mouth and douse his thick, calloused fingers in your syrupy sheen.

The tip of his tongue lashes over the throbbing button at the apex of your thighs. He doesn’t particularly care if you take him well or not. You’re going to take him regardless. But he isn’t so heartless he won’t try and make it a little less painful for you. He’s urging you to cum for him, his free hand pressing down on your abdomen in a bid to enhance your pleasure. With each whip of his tongue against your clit and every press of your spongy insides with his fingers, he’s trying to drag you over the edge.

Your lifeless body surprises him once more.

He pulls away and observes the way your pussy pulses and your walls tighten around his fingers as you begin to cum for him. Your spent little cunt drooling around his thick digits and coating them in your slick. You even moaned for him. Not loudly, of course. A few tell-tale grunts to let him know you were happy with his work.

His eyes ogle your tits once again, admiring the way your chest rises and falls as he sucks his fingers clean. You’re so fucking cute. You must be heaven sent, the way you stepped into the frat may as well have been a gift with a garish bow from Santa Claus himself.

He unbuckles his belt with one hand whilst squeezing and pinching your nipples once again. They’re so pretty, the prettiest pair of tits he’s ever seen. He’s rock hard in his jeans, leaking like crazy and desperate to be buried to the hilt in your sweet little snatch.

And his heavy cock springs free, the tip leaving evidence of just how desperate he is on his v-neck shirt. Pearly pre shimmering against the black material that is soon to dry and harden and meld with the cotton fibres. But he can’t find it in himself to care. He pulls it over his head and throws it into the corner of his room, he’ll deal with it another time. There’s something much more entertaining lying atop his sheets right now.

“Mmm… think this is gonna hurt sweetheart. But you’re gonna be good ‘n take it f’me, yeah?” he lines himself up with your entrance and gives your still body one final look before breaching your insides with his thick cockhead. “Fuckin’ hell you’re tight. You’re so fucking tight, might cum just from this.” he speaks.

He knows you can’t understand him, but he can’t stop himself from communicating with you anyway. He needs you to know how special you are. That out of all of the girls at the party, he chose you. Don’t you feel special? He’s sure you will when you’re stuffed full of his cum. It’ll all dawn on you tomorrow and you’ll feel so honoured that the one and only Oliver Aiku fucked you open and covered you in so many pretty patterns and was even kind enough to pump you full of his cum.

You have no idea how much restraint he’s showing by not instantly splitting you open on his thick, heavy cock. He can’t help but feel that slowly plunging into your virgin walls is a better display of claiming your body. It’s almost torture for him, easing in inch at a time at an agonising pace.

And when he’s fully sheathed inside your suffocating walls, the pleasure is almost too much, he could shed a tear at the feeling. But, of course, he won’t. He’s prioritising the task at hand.

He holds under your knee and pushes it further into your chest and begins to slowly roll his hips. It’s hypnotising, the way even out of consciousness your eyes can still roll back into your skull. He takes note of how he’s moving when your eyelids begin to flutter.

“Oh baby… right there? Like it when I fuck you there?” he wonders, experimenting with his movement and speeding up ever so slightly. His cockhead is nudging your g-spot so perfectly. It’s so deliciously soft, and those saccharine expressions you’re donning are about to drag him to an early demise.

His grip on your thigh is harsh. Another galaxy of purple bruises forming under his fingers on your doughy skin. He hasn’t noticed. It’s second nature to him to be a little rougher than intended. But it’s part of the fun, right? More little discoveries for you to find in days to come.

He’s entranced by the way his cock vanishes inside of your cute cunt. He’s being swallowed whole by your sticky lips. The sound reverberates throughout the room. The suctioning sounds of you pulling him inside and the tackiness of your pussy and his cock meeting again and again and again.

Your eyes squint as he yanks down your jaw until he sees your tongue. He’s so abhorrent and even at this point he knows this to be the truth himself. He just can’t fucking help it. He wants to do anything and everything to you. He wants to humiliate you because you’re just that special to him. With a cartoonish ‘ptuh’ sound, a glob of spit has landed on your tongue and is slowly sliding down your throat.

With a few more presses of his tip against your sweet spot, you’re spasming around him again. Maybe you liked it after all. You wouldn’t cum if you didn’t. Do you like being taken advantage of by reprehensible scum like Oliver Aiku? Do you like being unconscious while getting your insides pummelled? This might warp your tiny little mind. Maybe you’ll think this is love and this is what you’re meant for. It is, as far as Oliver is concerned. He doesn’t let up humping into your tiny hole. He spits in your mouth again, and it’s the final straw to pull him into his oncoming bliss right along with you.

“Little slut,” he pants, his hips faltering as he feels himself reaching the precipice. “Mine. My little slut. My fuckin’ cunt. H-Hear me? Mine.” he practically growls as he shoots load after load into your unprotected womb. “Ah— fuck. Fuuuuuck—” he finishes, fucking his viscous seed back into you.

He pulls out immediately after, admiring the way his sperm drips and squelches out of your spent cunt. You’re clenching around nothing, poor thing. You must miss him.

But you don’t have to worry. You won’t have to miss him for long. You’re not done, after all. He just needs some time to recharge. He wasn’t just going to fuck you once and be done with you. Not a perfect little pussy like that, no. Those drugs will be in your system for a few hours.

He’s far from done with you yet.

© 2023 rinitxshi

[pricelessemotion]

love is kinda crazy (with a spooky little boy like you) | E.M.

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: [2.4k] eddie takes you on that halloween date. it doesn’t go quite like you expected.

warnings: pure fluff, a little awkward date shenanigans, r is described as having frizzy hair and wearing prescription glasses, r also has an (unnamed) sister

a/n: ah! i’ve been dying to write and post a part two for this fic since halloween and i thought there was no better time to post it than now! happy valentine’s day 🖤

masterlist | part one

“There, perfect!” Your sister punctuates the end of her makeover with the snap of her powder compact and the flourish of a makeup brush. 

You turn slowly, the pink cushioned stool a little wobbly under your unsteady frame. Your reflection looks comical, all blurred edges and wavy lines. Without your glasses, the bedroom vanity has turned into a funhouse mirror. 

“What does it matter if I’m going on a date with him if I can barely see him?”

You don’t need glasses to know that she’s rolling her eyes. Even though you can’t quite see her, you can hear her exasperation in the way she’s loudly chewing her gum. “You’re going to the movies, you’re barely gonna be able to see him anyway. Besides, you’ll be able to see him when he’s close enough to kiss and that’s the whole point.”

You blink each eye one at a time, trying to gauge which one is better. Your left eye is slightly clearer, though the difference is negligible. “I think you’re severely overestimating my eyesight.” 

“I think you’re severely underestimating my dating advice.” She blows a bubble, the view of her face becoming a bright pink smudge before it pops and she continues smacking. “Just trust me, it’ll all be fine.”

You do trust her. Even though she has spent the last two hours plucking and primping and preening, you want to take her advice. She’s not doing this to be condescending or controlling. She’s genuinely excited that you have a date, even more so that it’s with a living breathing human boy and not another library book. 

You don’t have much experience. With dating, with seeing someone, with kissing someone. What it means to be dating someone versus what it means to be seeing someone. What you’re supposed to do when you kiss someone. I mean, are your lips supposed to be on top of each other or are they supposed to interlock like the teeth of a zipper? Yeesh, you didn’t even wanna think about how teeth and tongues factor into the equation. 

These types of questions would usually be the kind that you would ask an older sister. You’ve just never had the bravery to say them out loud. Sure, you’ve watched romance movies and rewound and observed so much that you were afraid the tape in the VHS was going to break. And you’ve read enough romance that Ms. Marissa gives you side-eye when you pass the library’s reception desk. But there’s a difference between fiction and real life. A bridge you’ve yet to cross. You’re sure that you’re going to need all the help you can get.  

So, you heed her advice. You let her spray you with enough Aquanet to try to keep the flyaways at bay. You let her paint your lips with a shimmery pink lip gloss that isn’t too sticky and tastes like vanilla. You don’t, however, let her see you sneak the thick frames into your bag for emergencies. If it were up to her, the frames would be set out with Thursday’s garbage and you’d be wearing contacts like everyone else in your age group. 

She drops you off at The Hawk with another smack of her bubblegum and a reassuring pat on the shoulder. She barely waits for you to close the door of the station wagon before she’s speeding away, her Halloween plans including a keg, a pushup bra, and a slightly inebriated Steve Harrington. 

Eddie’s easy to spot. His silhouette sticks out against the brick building, white shirt, black leather, and blue denim against a red background. He lights up when he sees you and it’s the first time you’ve understood the meaning of the phrase. Since you can’t quite see his face clearly, you’re paying extra attention to his body. The way he pushes off the wall to stand tall. The way his shoulders visibly relax. You bet that they could see his smile all way in Indianapolis. 

“I know you’re usually supposed to give flowers on dates, but this is the best I could do.” 

He presents an origami paper flower in the shape of a rose. It’s made from binder paper, evident by the familiar feel of it in your hands. The folds are a bit unsure. There’s evidence of it being undone and folded again with a cleaner precision, you can feel the wear and tear on the paper with your fingertips. You’re dumbfounded. 

“Thank you,” You whisper, twirling the stem between your thumb and forefinger, watching the rosebud spin. “No one’s ever gotten me flowers before.” 

“Never?” He gapes at you in apparent disbelief before he schools his expression. “Well then, I’m glad to be the first.” He offers his arm to you like a real gentleman and you take it. 

The leather in the crook of his elbow is cold to the touch, but being in such close proximity you can feel the body heat radiating off of him. 

“It’s a continuous marathon, so they’re showing movies all night. We can start with any one that you want.” He gestures up to the marquee above the concession stand. When you look up to the sign, the words might as well be written in Cyrillic the way the letters all blur together. 

After a trip to the concessions stand, the two of you eventually settle on The Exorcist, which you had decided to cling to after Eddie’s nervous yet adorable rambling about which movie would be better to start with. 

Horror movies are even scarier when you can’t tell what’s going on. It didn’t occur to you how much you relied on sight to be able to mentally prepare for jump scares. Eddie must think you’re a total wimp the way you practically leap out of your seat at every flash on the silver screen that accompanies a discordant string of violins. 

You jump when you feel a hand brush your bicep, your arms flinging out. It’s much too late when you realize that intimate touch was Eddie trying to figure out if you were alright. The large Coke that Eddie had gotten–two straws because he said he didn’t wanna be presumptuous–the casualty of your fright. The flimsy lid pops off like it has nothing better to do and the dark brown liquid splashes over the arm of the seat right into Eddie’s lap. 

Eddie recoils, half-jumping and half-hovering in his seat because he just got a handful of ice-cold soda in his crotch. The people behind you are jeering, grumbling about the disturbance and Eddie half-whispers fucking shit under his breath, in what you’re sure must be a mixture of disdain and disgust.  

You pull napkins out of your purse and thrust them in Eddie’s direction before rushing out of the theater, chest heaving and eyes stinging. 

It’s a wonder you don’t trip and fall on your way out. You’ve walked these dimly lit halls hundreds of times, so luckily instinct and muscle memory win out and you make it out of the theater mostly unscathed, just with a few bruises on each shoulder. Nothing compared to the mortification of what had happened inside. 

Because it’s October in Indiana and you can’t seem to catch a break, it’s raining. Only every so slightly, but enough that you’d be soaked to the bone if you walked home thanks to your sister’s insistence that you dress for fashion and not function. You huddle close to the payphone, pondering if you have enough change to call around and get your sister to pick you back up because no way are you waking up your parents for this. 

The doors to the theater creak open behind you and suddenly you’re not alone anymore. The biting cold chills you to the bone but it’s Eddie’s presence behind you that sets you on fire. 

“Hey, are you okay?” 

Maybe it’s because you’ve spent the last hour and a half in the dark with your nerves on edge, but the tenderness in Eddie’s voice makes your throat constrict. 

“I’m sorry,” You blubber. “I’m so embarrassed. I just wanted everything to be perfect and I ruined it.” 

“Hey. Hey.” Eddie repeats himself more forcefully when you don’t meet his gaze the first time, “You didn’t ruin anything. It’s just a little soda. I’ll live.” 

His fingers rub the back of your hands in a soothing motion. Back and forth, thumbs caressing the valleys between your knuckles. He’s close enough that his features are almost in focus. You still have to squint. 

“You keep doing that.” He points his fingers toward your furrowed brow before mimicking the action on his own face. The finger is not accusatory, it just seems like Eddie likes to talk with his hands. 

You sigh, a resigned and weary sound. “My sister convinced me that I shouldn’t wear my glasses.” 

Eddie makes a face that you can’t quite discern in the dark before letting out a soft hmph! “Your sister kinda sounds a little mean.” 

“She means well.” You defend, weakly. You love your sister to death but there are times that your differences become much too apparent and that leaves you with nothing to do but suffer the consequences. This is one of those times. 

“Did you bring them with you?” 

“Yeah,” You reach into your bag, finding the frames folded into one of the inner pockets. 

Eddie takes them and puts them on you. “You keep doing that.” You murmur, a repeat of his earlier accusation. Now, though, you both know it’s in reference to him adjusting your glasses not just once but twice. 

“It gives me an excuse to be close to you.” 

You can see him with unrelenting clarity now. The little crinkles next to his eyes as he smiles warmly down at you. The way the slight breeze has carried the miserable drizzle under the theater awning. The way that drizzle clings to his curly hair like dewdrops on morning grass. You almost robbed yourself of all of this, and for what? Eddie knows what you look like. 

“Y’know what I thought when I saw you yesterday?” Yesterday, when you had been wearing a witch hat on top of your frizzy hair and the same Coke bottle glasses that sit on the slope of your nose now. “I thought that you were the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. I thought I made a fool outta myself and that you wouldn’t give me the time of day, not in a million years.” 

“The whole scaredy cat schtick was quite endearing I must say.” 

He nods seriously, just a slight hint of a smirk on his face. “I try my best.” 

You look down at the seat of his pants. Sure enough, there’s a dark stain splashed right across his crotch.“Oh god. I'm so sorry. Again” 

“What did I tell you about apologizing?”

“You didn’t say anything about apologizing.” 

“Well then, this is me saying something. Stop apologizing. You have nothing to apologize for.” 

“It looks like you pissed yourself,” You wail mournfully. 

“Well, that definitely makes me feel better.” Eddie jests before he tugs you into his chest and plants his chin on top of your head. 

You nuzzle your face into his sternum, appreciating the soft hiss he lets out when your cold nose touches his warm skin. You inwardly groan because, quite frankly, there’s nothing more embarrassing than running out of a nearly full movie theater the way that you did. The only thing more embarrassing than that, you think, is going back inside after having embarrassed yourself. You tell Eddie as much, with the reassurance that you don’t want the date to end and if he really wants to, you can go back inside and finish the movie. He’s already tugging you toward his van that’s parked on the other side of the street, saying the six words that make your night:

“I own The Exorcist on VHS.”

You spend the entire time back in the trailer park cuddled up having quiet conversation about gory practical effects over a bowl of microwaved popcorn. The closest he gets to kissing you is when you duck into his chest to hide and his lips brush your temple. He could’ve lived off of that single brush for the rest of his life if he had to. 

When Eddie pulls up to your house later that night, he really does mean to give you an innocent kiss goodnight. The neighborhood is quiet, seeing as it’s probably been an hour since the children of Hawkins had fallen into their sugar-induced comas. He turns the engine off and shifts towards you, his smile both giddy and shy while he tells you that he had a really good time tonight. You mirror his expression and tell him the same. You both lean forward, chests rising and falling in tandem, noses brushing. 

When you finally make it past the front door, your lips are swollen and your glasses are fogged up. You kick off your shoes and pad up the carpeted steps two at a time, racing to your bedroom window. When you turn on your lamp and look out to the tree-lined street, Eddie waves at you, his rings glinting in the streetlight. You wave back, watching the van disappear into the distance. 

“Hey,” Your sister is leaning against the doorframe, smiling like the cat who got the cream.

“How’d it go?” You’re already slightly aware of the answer since she’s standing in front of you with a freshly washed face and hand-me-down pajamas instead of in an empty house in Loch Nora. 

She shrugs noncommittally, “It was a bust.” 

You hum in solemn solidarity, trying to tug the grin on your face into a much more situationally appropriate neutral expression. You feel for her and you don’t want to rub it in her face that you had such a good time, despite her advice. Unfortunately, you do not seem to have as much control over your facial muscles as you think you do. Your sister sees right through you, grabbing the purple throw pillow at the foot of the bed and launching it at your face telling you to shut up. You catch it before it has the chance to hit you, huffing with righteous indignation at her before the two of you collapse onto the bed in muffled laughter. 

“So, how’d it go?” She whispers in your direction, mindful of your sleeping parents down the hall. 

You trace your cupid’s bow, feeling the chapped and swollen skin for the hundredth time that night. You turn your head toward hers, readjusting your glasses when they slide down your nose. 

“It was perfect.” 

likes are appreciated, comments and reblogs are cherished 🖤

[obxsummer]

HEARTFIRST // JJ Maybank

pairing: JJ Maybank x Routledge!Reader

warnings: mentions of abuse, sibling drama, nothing too drastic

request: heyy i have a fic idea! so i thought you could do a secret relationship jj x reader (john bs sis) and jj shows up at her window beaten up and she cleans him up and they go to bed; then he has a nightmare and wakes up screaming and JB sees how good they are for each other? idk if that makes sense hahaha!

navigation 

more from the SUBJECT TO CHANGE series

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John B was pissed. Fuming. Ready to strangle his best friend of too many years for something so stupid. There had always been one rule since JJ Maybank and John Booker Routledge became best friends: you were off limits. Y/N Routledge was not to be flirted with, dated, looked at, or spoken to unless John B approved it. 

At first, it didn’t matter. Growing up as kids, John B had his friends and you had yours but once your dad dove headfirst into a treasure hunt, everything went to shit. Kiara’s Kook year had really screwed up your relationship, leaving JJ and Pope to fill in the gaps which pulled you closer and closer with your brother and his friends. You were teenagers then and everything felt so important and critical, even if it wasn’t. 

So when John B realized his best friend and his sister were together, there was nothing that could stop him from losing his shit on the two of you.

Met him at a party, accidentally brushed his body On the way to get a drink at the bar I couldn't wait 'til later, talking in the elevator Then we're kissing in the back of the car

The kegger idea had really sounded good at first; it was something to get your minds off your missing father, not to mention the sudden dead bodies popping up from the hurricane. None of it seemed too out of place for you, minus the newfound treasure hunting, but you were always up for a good party. 

“Where the hell did you find a keg on such short notice?” You asked JJ as the two of you hauled the large object down towards the Boneyard. You never really thought about how quickly JJ managed to find alcohol when it was for a party. It was common knowledge that he just knew where to go and how to do it. 

“Don’t you worry about that, Birdie. You know I’ve got my ways.”

The party was in full swing a few hours later. You’d spent most of your time with John B and Sarah before dipping to find the boy that seemed to be taking up most of your mind. JJ had been occupied with beer pong for a good portion of the last hour and you were determined to break him away.

That voice in my head says to slow down But it can't see the way you're looking at me right now It may not be next week, what I need Then again, maybe it might be

The drink in your hand sloshed over the rim of the cup as someone ran into your side in their drunken stumbling. JJ’s attention moved to you instantly. He’d always been so in tune with you and your presence but it only got stronger ever since your dad left. 

The previously occupied beat-up table full of red solo cups was left behind in trade for your company, JJ instantly taking your hand in his as he twirled you. He would give up so much to watch you smile like that every day. You deserved every bit of happiness that came to you because it certainly didn’t come often. 

Your laughter was infectious and JJ was drunk on it. He didn’t know who made the move or who threw the back door of the Twinkie open but shit, your skin was so soft and JJ just couldn’t stop kissing you. 

The line between friends and more slowly disappeared between you and JJ. At some point, your bed became his, and his clothes blended with yours. The thrill of hiding from the Pogues was exciting, sneaking moments when the two of you could to enjoy the one thing you had to yourselves.

JJ was everything to you and yet, it terrified you. You’ve never had a person to connect with in the way you did with him. The thought of your friends, of your brother, being pissed about what was going on was suffocating. What if this fucked up the group? What if JJ left you for someone else when he got bored? JJ was always quick to shut that idea down. 

“We’ve grown up together, Birdie. Kinda stupid of them to think something wasn’t gonna happen within the group at some point, right?” Which was always followed by: “You’re it for me. Now get outta that pretty little head and let me love on you.”

He had a point, but then again when JJ was pressing kisses down your neck, you never could think clearly.

Could be forever or we might break That's just the kind of risk that we take My head is yelling that I could get hurt But I'm gonna jump right in Baby, with my heart first

“You wanna tell them?” JJ’s voice was muffled as he spoke into the skin of your shoulder. The two of you were sitting on the porch of the Chateau, watching bemused as Kiara and Pope challenged Sarah and John B to an intense game of cards out on the dock. 

You sat beside the blond boy. To any observing eyes, it would just look like two friends having a civil conversation. To you, JJ’s hand was behind your back, fingers gently moving across the skin of your hip that wasn’t covered by the t-shirt over your swimsuit. 

“No.” Your answer didn’t have any anger or harshness behind it. You simply just loved having JJ all to yourself, with no judgment or prying eyes. No pressure to make it something neither of you wanted. It felt selfish to a point to keep something from your friends, from your brother. 

“Get out of your head.”

A smile made its way onto your face as you took the risk of leaning your head against JJ’s shoulder, tucking further into his side. JJ was so warm, his tan skin from constant surfing smooth against your cheek. It scared you sometimes, how comfortable everything was when it involved him. 

JJ’s heart skipped watching you be so relaxed, so vulnerable around him. He’d been so used to living on the edge and being tense for so long that it was so… vulnerable, so healing to have someone feel protected and safe enough to be by his side. 

Who knows what'll happen, ain't that always kinda magic When you don't know who's holding the cards Could be a wish I never knew ya or permanently tattoo ya Only the moon knows what's in the stars (what's in the stars)

You were pissed. You don’t know at what point John B thought he could parent you when the two of you were so close in age. Who was he after all this time to think he could boss you around?

“How long? How long has this been going on?” John B’s voice almost rattled the windows, echoing around the space surrounding you and JJ. The two of you stood there awkwardly like kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar. 

“Three months,” Your whisper was almost incoherent. Your eyes were trained on the ground, heart thumping in your chest so loud you figured JJ could probably hear it. This was the risk that came with not telling them, with keeping secrets amongst Pogues. God, there were so many stupid rules. 

John B’s hand slammed against the counter. “Three-Three months? God. I just…There was one rule. One fucking rule JJ. You promised!”

JJ visibly flinched at the anger in John B’s statement. That was true; JJ did promise John B he’d never get with you, never hurt you. All of that flew out the door the moment JJ saw you at that kegger. He had to risk it.

“I’m..I’m sorry, man! It just happened, okay? And-and we didn’t want to tell you guys because we didn’t want something like this to happen!”

“Well it’s happening,” John B scoffed with a shake of his head. The disappointment on his face was suffocating and you felt like you would burst into tears at any second. It wasn’t fair. Being forced apart when you knew you loved JJ? How is that fair?

John B shifted further into your line of vision. “Get the fuck out. Now. And don’t let me see you two near each other until I figure this out, got it?”

You looked up in a panic. “John B-”

“Do not argue with me right now. I don’t want to talk to you.” The look in your brother’s eyes left no room for argument. You’d never seen him this mad, especially toward you. 

JJ’s fingers squeezed your wrist lightly before he shuffled out the door behind you. The creaky hinges filled the room as you and John B stared at each other, waiting for the other to break. 

The fridge door popped open when your brother finally decided to move to grab a beer. Part of you wanted to run after JJ, to prove to John B that you didn’t have to listen to him. The problem was, you knew JJ respected your brother too much to let you do that for him. 

“You didn’t have to be so harsh on him,” You mumbled when you mustered up enough courage. John B tended to be… touch and go when he was angry. There was a risk of setting off another fuse if you didn’t watch what you said. 

As kids, JJ always picked on your brother for inheriting your dad’s temper. John B hated that it was true. To your relief, your brother let out a sigh and placed both of his hands on the counter. He felt instant regret watching JJ flinch at the noise level, knowing exactly what happened in the Maybank house when nobody else was around. “I know.” 

“I can’t tell you that I’m gonna stop being with him,” You admitted, holding your ground while you had the chance. You crossed your arms over your chest. “I respect your opinion a lot, Booker, but if it means staying away from JJ, I’ll learn to live without it.”

 It was a little more aggressive than you intended for it to be but it needed to be said. You moved through the kitchen to your room without another word. 

Mm, that voice in my head says to slow down But it can't feel your hands on my hips right now It may not be next year, what I need Then again, maybe it might be

JJ felt horrible for doing this. He knew he was playing with fire but as he pushed up your bedroom window, he couldn’t really bring himself to care. He could deal with John B later. Right now, he really needed you. 

He was a little less than graceful stumbling through your window in the darkness, but he found his way eventually. You shifted awake from his rustled movements and caught a quick glance at his silhouette before turning to flick the light on. “JJ? What’s wrong? Do you need-”

“Nothin’. Sorry to wake you, Birdie. Just wanted to see you.” You could tell he was avoiding meeting your eyes as he kicked off his shoes. The coloration of bruising was beginning to show through his abdomen and you shook your head slightly. JJ didn’t like to explain when his dad treated him like this. He kept quiet and you didn’t push him because he would always talk when he wanted to about what happened. 

So, you turned the lights off and cuddled up next to him, hoping you would wake up before John B saw anything.

JJ didn’t always have nightmares when it came to his dad, but whatever happened was terrible enough that he did. Half the time they weren’t even about his dad hitting him; it always involved his dad hurting you. 

The blond’s sharp movements woke you up before the screaming did. You didn’t hesitate to pull him closer, his hands grasping your hips to hold as you settled across his lap. His shirt puddled on your thighs as he let his fingers drift across your bare skin above your pajama shorts. JJ tucked his face in your neck and just listened to your heartbeat, reassuring him that you were right here and you were safe.

John B couldn’t say he was pleased to be woken up at 5:00 in the morning. Even less so when the alarm clock involved screaming. It wasn’t your voice though, and he didn’t know if that was a relief or something to be worried about. 

You didn’t flinch when your brother threw your door open to reveal the sight within. You knew he could see the fact that the two of you were fully clothed and clearly, everything was okay… well, as okay as it could be. 

Eyes moving to look at John B, you prayed he wouldn’t say anything while JJ was so upset. To your surprise and gratitude, he didn’t. He stared at both of you for a moment as the realization settled in. The realization that you were old enough to make these decisions for yourself and as much as John B wanted to protect you, to protect you and JJ, he couldn’t keep you apart. 

John B gave you a small nod and mouthed to let him know if you or JJ needed anything. You gave him a forced smile back, a barely there ‘thank you’ leaving your lips as you hugged your boyfriend tighter to your chest. 

As your bedroom door closed, you had this overwhelming sense of relief that maybe…maybe it would all work out after all. 

I gotta have ya, gotta see if this works I gotta have ya, wake up in your t-shirt I gotta have ya, diving in heart first

[garbinge]

10 Years

Chibs Telford x F!Reader

30 Day Fic Challenge

Word Count: 4k A/N: I'm realizing now it took me so long to write all these fics because they're all easily over 1k lololol. Back in my chibby erraaa <3

Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. Mentions of guns, violence, blood, bullet wounds, getting shot, death, and pining.

SOA Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics

You gave up the hope that the bell on the door gave you years ago. Everytime they hit the door, you’d look up to see who was there. It started with a smile, everytime you looked up you had a smile on your face, then it eventually faded to a neutral one, then somewhere along the line, you didn’t even bother looking up and just greeted the door with some remark. 

“Welcome to Ashby’s, holler if you need anything.” You didn’t even look up from the inventory you were doing. 

“Take your time, love.” 

The voice was enough to trigger all that hope again. You felt your body shake, your heart skipped, and your eyes immediately looked up to a sea full of leather at the door. 

“Mother of Christ.” You mumbled the words as you looked at the group of them, but mainly just at Chibs. 

“I’m looking for Maureen Ashby.” The blond you knew as Jackson Teller spoke up, his face looked tired, between the black bags under his eyes and the stubble growing from chin. 

“Maureen!” You called out, not taking your eyes off the boys. 

“Aye, don’t blow a fuse.’ She also had her head down similarly to you earlier.

“We got company.” You knew that would get her attention. 

Maureen didn’t seem as shocked to see them, but more so just not expecting them so soon. She brought them to the apartment out back, leaving you no time to talk with Chibs. It didn’t stop him from coming to leave a quick kiss on your forehead before he walked with the rest of the group. 

Work went by so slowly, your eyes were watching the clock and the door and you swore time went back minutes instead of forward. It didn’t help that the store wasn’t exactly booming with business, large groups of bikers hanging outside seemed to deter a lot of everyday business. 

You were closing up, locking the cash register and turning off the lights. As you went to the front door, you stretched up to grab the metal arm of the locking mechanism drilled to the top of the door. 

“Was coming to see you.” His voice didn’t startle you like one would have during closing time. You simply just turned around to see him standing at the doorway in the back that connected to Maureen’s place. He still had his SAMCRO jacket on, his hair was oily, likely the result of a long, stressful day. 

“Funny enough, so was I.” You went back to locking up the door, grunting to make sure the locks were tight. 

“Drink on me? Outside?” Chibs was pointing over his shoulder behind him. 

You nodded and walked towards but not without stopping to grab the gun you kept behind the counter and tucking it in your waistband. 

“In case you boys brought fireworks to the party.” It was said dangerously close to Chibs as you paused in front of him before walking up the stairs to Maureen’s place. 

“Mother of Christ.” He mumbled under his breath and looked up to the sky before following you upstairs. 

“Locked up, sent in the inventory order and I’ll be here tomorrow mornin’ for the keg shipment.” You spoke to Maureen who was smoking a cigarette at her kitchen table. 

“Aye,” she nodded, “don’t worry about the kegs, I’ll have McGee put a prospect on it, it’s theirs anyways.” She smirked slightly and looked at Chibs behind you. “Enjoy your night, loves.” 

You nodded with a gratuitous smile and opened the door to walk downstairs. The noise was loud, it was incredible what Maureen’s house muted, it was insane out here. Tons of yelling, laughing, fighting, a large fire pit going on. 

Stopping on the landing of the stairs you looked out to take it all in, despite you working so closely with the Ireland charter, you never went to these types of things. 

“We can go somewhere more private if you’d like.” Chibs’ voice was precariously close to your ear. 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you.” As you looked over your shoulder you saw how close you were to him and it was hard to stand by your statement of not wanting to be somewhere private with him. But you held strong and started your descent down the stairs. “Get me a beer, will ya?” 

Plopping down on one of the wooden picnic benches, you made yourself comfortable, eyes glued on the fight happening between some of the guys until it moved onto Jax who was getting ready to fight. 

“Looks like Jackie boy made himself a bet.” Chibs spoke up placing the bottle in front of you and sitting down on top of the table, his head looking over his shoulder to continue looking at Jax. 

“Crazy to see him so grown up. Remember him in naps practically.” You teased. 

“We’ve all done some growing up, I think.” Chibs wasn’t looking at you as he said it but you knew what he was insinuating. 

“Have we?” Your eyebrows raised, curious how he was going to respond. 

“Aye.” 

One word, spoke enough volume to you though. 

“How’s Kerianne?” You matched how he was carrying himself, not looking at him as you spoke, sipping your beer as a way to give yourself something to do. 

“She’s good, upstairs with Trinity in her room.” 

“How was the ride over?” You were exhausting your small talk options. 

“A pile of shite.” He laughed at that one remembering the mess of just trying to get here. 

“It true?” You nodded towards Jax who was starting to get into the ring. “‘Bout Jax’s boy?” 

“Not too sure, was going to ask you if you knew or heard anything?” 

That made your face drop. “You’re kidding me, right?” Now you weren’t afraid to look at him. “That’s why you came to speak with me, to pull out any information I might have, what was your plan, Filip? Sleep with me and get me to pillowtalk any information I had? Maybe drown me in a little Irish courage and hope I’d spill it? Well here, I’ll save you the trouble, love, I don’t know shite, I’m lucky if I get a heads up about the fucking kegs let alone club business.” 

After you went off on him, you started to stand up to leave when he caught your arm. “You know that’s not why I asked.” 

Turning around with speed and fury, the anger faded almost immediately when you looked at him. After all these years, you could still tell when he was being genuine. 

“I don’t know anything about Jax’s boy, just know Jimmy’s boys like to come around a lot and rough up anyone who's not down with the cause.” 

It was like you spoke it to existence because as the words left your mouth, the gunshots from outside the fence began. 

Chibs was quick to jump in front of you and bring you down behind a couple crates and kegs. You were in his lap, his left arm was holding you tight against him, while his right was following his body and peering over the side of the wooden crate letting out shots back to where they were coming from. Your mumbled grunt of pain caused him to look back down at you where he saw the blood slightly pooling at his hand. 

“You’re hit.” He scrambled to find where the bullet was to apply pressure. 

“No shit, Chibs.” His nickname flew out of your mouth like it was so effortless, any other time he might’ve smiled at it but he was too busy pressing his arm against your shoulder. Despite the pain you were in, you were trying to take your good arm and reach for your waistband. 

“Stop squirming, you’ll bleed out.” He whispered it so he didn’t compromise your position. 

“I’m trying to get my gun.” You whispered back. 

That’s when his eyes fell on your pants and saw the handle of the gun. He knew he was low on ammo, one of the reasons why he stopped shooting haphazardly along with the fact that you were bleeding all over the place. 

He reached down to grab the gun from you and you practically slapped him with your head as you turned up to look at him. 

“What are you doing?! That’s MY gun, let me shoot at them.”

 “Trust me, I much rather you have it, love.” Chibs said with humor knowing very well that you could easily take out a person for every bullet in the magazine. “But you can’t even reach for it, so I’m afraid I’m going to have to use it.” 

“Might as well shoot me with it while you’re at it.” You said jokingly, out of frustration, as you leaned over so Chibs could grab it. 

“Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but someone already beat me to it.” He was leaning over himself now and looking to see where the shooting was but it had just stopped and the sound of tires squealing filled the air. 

After a brief second of silence, the terror and chaos on the lot began. Yells and screams replaced the silence. You heard the SAMCRO boys calling out for one another, you heard other names first but then you heard them call out for the man who was stopping you from bleeding out. 

“Over here! We’re hit!” He yelled out, now trying to adjust you in the best way possible. 

“We aren’t shit, Filip, I’m hit!” You corrected him despite part of you being smug by his use of we. 

“Love the commitment to the attitude, love, but let’s focus on just keeping you from bleeding out.” 

Jax materialized in front of you and was helping to stand the both of you up. Chibs moved in front of you now, still holding your shoulder with pressure, but the blood was still dripping down your chest. 

“We gotta bring her upstairs.” 

“Yea, her and a few others.” Jax said as he looked quickly at the lot where a good chunk of people were injured, some likely dead. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine, just give me a patch up and take care of me last, it’s my shoulder not an artery, I’m dripping blood because you’re using the arm of your jacket to apply pressure, give me gauze or something.”

“Hap!” Jax yelled and within seconds the bald, tall, skinny, and a little bit scary man appeared. “Get a rag or a shirt or something and come put pressure on this and then bring her upstairs.” Just as quick as Jax was delivering orders was as quick as both of them were walking away. 

Now with Chibs in front of you, the only thing you could really do was look at him. The adrenaline was obviously still coursing through both of your bodies as your chests rose and fall.  Your grip on him was tight and as the two of you just stood there with the madness happening around you. The reality began to settle in and the pain in your shoulder started to throb and to make matters worse you started to take in the scene around you. 

The screaming was now more apparent and you heard it alongside the ringing in your ears. As your mouth opened, and your heart sped up, your voice got hitched in your throat and almost inaudible sound came from your mouth. A hand was then cupping your cheek and lightly pushing your head to face forward. That’s when you looked at his eyes and they were calm, and grounded while yours must’ve looked panicked and worried. 

“Breathe.” He said it so soft it was insane to think someone could be so relaxed at a moment like this. In fact, you had once been the type to be relaxed at moments like this, years ago, which at this moment felt like lifetimes ago. But all that changed when you were shot, the first time, in a situation so similar to this. 

“I know what’s happening and you just gotta breathe.” Chibs spoke again, this time wiping the tear from your cheek with his thumb, while his other hand pressed against your shoulder. 

Before you could answer, Happy had come back and everything changed within seconds. Chibs was no longer applying pressure to your wound, Happy was, and you were being rushed up the stairs. 

You took one more look around and saw Chibs helping Jax with the chaos, and that’s when you told yourself to keep it together. As you were ushered up the stairs, you swallowed your panic and just fully went into disassociation. 

“So why they call you Happy?” You spoke to the man who was applying rough pressure to your shoulder now. 

“Because I’m a happy guy.” He grunted, not bothering to look you in the eye when he spoke. 

As you reached the top quarter of the steps, only about 7 of them left, the door swung open. You expected to see Maureen but instead were met with Trinity and Kerianne looking mortified and curious as to what was happening. 

“Inside, NOW!” You yelled at them as you made it up the rest of the stairs. 

“Just like that.” Happy was a little impressed by your shout and comparing his explanation of himself being a happy guy to your outburst. 

Both of you stepped into the house and Maureen appeared and yelled similarly at the girls but ordered them to grab first aid. 

“Bring her here.” Maureen was clearing off the kitchen table. Happy helped you up on the table and stood there pressing the rag deep into your shoulder. It worked, the blood had stopped dripping down your body, you felt the throbbing ten times now. 

The chaos continued around you, you heard Chib’s voice a few times, giving medical orders, a few of the other guys too. 

“Talk to me, Happy.” It was the only way your mind wasn’t going to spiral. 

“Uh,” He said thinking of what to say, he wasn’t much of a chatter, he just did what he was told and killed people. 

“Think of something, anything.” You begged him as the panic started to set back in. “Talk to me about the fucking weather, about your hobbies, about your fucking favorite food, I don’t care, Happy but I need you to talk to me.” Your eyes were burning into his skull. 

“I like noodles.” He said confidently. 

“Noodles?” You questioned as you let out a laughy breath. 

“Noodles.” He nodded. 

“Well Happy, I make a mean Lo Mein and after this, I’ll owe you a meal.” 

There was a slight smirk to Happy’s face before he nodded. “Does it hurt?” 

“Not my first time being shot, so the pain’s familiar.” You spoke up through your gritted teeth. 

Happy leaned down to show you the scar on his head that looked about a year old. “Not my first rodeo either.” 

“Forgive me, Happy, but that doesn’t surprise me.” You laughed. 

“Why?” He genuinely looked confused. 

“You’re terrifying, Happy.” Your head now was turned the other way trying to get a glimpse at what was happening down the hall. 

“Thank you.” This time his smile was large as he accepted what he thought was a compliment. 

What felt like hours passed but it was likely only minutes. The sweat was starting to pool at your forehead, the chills were starting to take over your autonomy. It was obviously alarming enough because Happy was calling out for help. 

One of the guys from the SAMBEL charter, Paddy, Chib’s nephew, came over and immediately started to pour liquid down your arm and grab whatever he could to pull the bullet out of your shoulder. Your screams were drowning out everything around you. As a few more people moved around you to help, you hoped one of them would be him but when you didn’t see his face, you didn’t have enough time to ask for him because everything eventually went to black. 

You woke up feeling someone rubbing your leg, the pain in your arm was more achey now, more stiff, and you felt exhausted. Sitting up, you saw Chibs at the foot of the bed you were in. 

“Trinity’s room?” You looked around taking in the posters and chachkeys around the room. 

“Aye.” He nodded, not looking at you. 

“I yelled at the girls earlier, told ‘em to go inside, think I scared ‘em.” 

“You did.” Chibs let out a chuckle. “But it was good, they needed to be scared so they stayed inside.” 

“You scared me too.” His head turned to look at you for the first time since you woke up. “I was patching up this lad who got a bullet to his abdomen. Heard your screams, reminded me of–.” His sentence stopped short, his words getting stuck in his throat. 

“To your point, it was extremely reminiscent of what happened all those years ago.” You bent your legs closer to you and patted the bed for him to get closer to you. “Paddy sewed me up good, though.” You referred to his nephew who was the one taking care of you, your eyes looking down at the gauze on your shoulder, a little blood was leaking through but it was normal. 

“Yea, after he spent 5 minutes trying to find the bullet in you that went straight through, the dumb lad.” Chibs shook his head at the stupidity of his nephew. 

“Just didn’t want me losing my life on a kitchen table in Belfast.” You shrugged with one shoulder, your good one. “Reminds me of another Scottish lad.” 

“You, uh, wanna come back to the states with me?” Chibs’ face was frowning, he was confused like he was trying to figure out what to do. 

“If it was that simple, I would’ve come with you when this first happened.” 

“When this first happened, I was in the IRA, this is different now, the club can protect you, I can protect you. Take you away from here, from Jimmy, from the mess of this Irish Catholic shiteshow.” 

“What would I do in the lovely United of States?” You asked him, entertaining his idea. 

“Could run the books at T M, could get you something at the club, or I don’t know, you could just be an ol’ lady.” 

“Ahhh yes, where I wait for you to come home and sit completely in the dark on everything happening, does that sound like my type of life, love?.” 

“Doesn’t sound too far off from what you’re doing now, love.” A female voice sent both of your gazes to the door to see Gemma holding a tray with an orange pill bottle, a bowl of oatmeal and a glass of tea

“Gemma.” The greeting wasn’t cold persay, but it definitely wasn’t a warm welcome. 

“Meds.” She lifted the tray and placed it on the desk to your right. “Don’t let your stubbornness stand in the way of your happiness.” 

There were a million things you could respond back to her with, but you weren’t exactly in the best position to argue with her, nor did you honestly want to. 

“All I’m saying is, we’d be happy to have you.” It was said in the most kind way for Gemma, still with a little control and attitude in her tone, but probably as genuine as she could be. 

Chibs stood up to grab the medicine and bowl of porridge for you, placing it on the nightstand so it was easily reachable. 

Before either of you could speak to what Gemma said, Jax was knocking on the door. 

“Sorry to interrupt. Just wanted to check in.” He wasn’t cleaned up at all, there were still smudges of blood on his neck, his shirt, in his hair. 

“It’s like a bus station in here anyway, the more the merrier.” You waved him in. 

“Just wanted to see how you’re feeling, darlin’.” He didn’t step in further, just stayed leaning on the door. 

“Like shite.” You laughed as you popped the pill into your mouth and grabbed the mug of tea to wash it down. “How’s Happy? Hope I didn’t give ‘em a scare when I passed out.” 

Jax laughed, “I think you made an impression on him. He keeps talking about how you’re gonna make him Lo Mein?” Jax spoke confused but with a chuckle. 

“Glad I could provide a silver lining.” 

‘Maureen told me to give you these.” The packaged gauze was lifted up and then tossed on the desk next to the tray. 

“We should probably change those out soon.” Chibs nodded to the exposed shoulder that had the bloody gauze on it. 

“Couldn’t help but overhear.” Jax raised his eyebrows, knowing his window was closing, he didn’t want to interrupt an intimate moment of bandage changes between you. “And for what it’s worth, we’d love to have you.” 

“Would love to sit in anxiety in tandem with the other SAMCRO women.” You teased. 

“Yea,” Jax’s head fell. “Well, you could do that with Tara, at the hospital, where she works, as a doctor.” It was a humble brag that usually didn’t work in Jax’s favor, people tended to look at their relationship with confusion and wonder but he knew it’d help Chibs in this situation. 

You took in what he said, your idea of an ol’ lady was very old school, very misogynistic, and you were absolutely positive it still was, but hearing that Jax’s ol’ lady was a doctor, had her own path, well that was something that sat differently with you. 

“Coulda used her here, instead of Paddy.” This was your way of making light of the conversation, not wanting it to feel too heavy since you knew it was exactly that for Chibs. 

Jax smiled and looked at the ground and nodded. “Well, if you were in Charming you’d be taken care of.” And with that statement he was kicking off the door. “Holler if you need anything.” It was his way of lightening the mood, repeating what you said when they first arrived, trying to convince you to come back home with them. 

Chibs was starting to take your bandage off, not in the mood for the airy back and forth. He looked at the bullet wound and then his eyes flashed down to your hip where he knew where your other wound was. “This one isn’t going to heal as nicely as the one I patched up.” He was tossing the bloody bandage in the trash. 

You lifted your shirt to show the first scar. “But it’ll make for a good story.” 

“Everyone in Charming will love to hear it.” He tried to be nonchalant but it was everything but. 

“I can’t just jump into this, Filip. I haven’t seen you in almost a decade. Haven’t heard from you, not a note, not a phone call, nothing. And now I’m just supposed to give up my life to come with you to a whole other country?” 

“Well it ain’t like we’re leaving yet.” He was placing the new bandage over the wound. “We could spend some time together, catch up, you could make your decision once we’re getting on the cargo plane to go home.” 

“Cargo plane?” You raised your eyebrows and laughed. “You sure keep me on my toes, Filip.” 

He laughed, bringing his hand up to your face, cupping your cheek again. “I love you, lass.” His lips were moving onto yours and you melted into it. This was the only medicine you needed, it made every thought of pain and ache fade to nothing. 

Pulling away, he rested his forehead on yours and sighed. “And when I’m out, you could uh, catch up on these.” His hand was reaching into his jacket and a pile of letters were being dropped to the bed. “I did write. Just never sent ‘em. Really thought not bein’ in your life would be better but I never stopped thinkin’ of ya.” 

Staring at the letters, you let it all sink in. You were weighing the options, even though you knew which one you’d end up with. 

“Stay with me? Here?” You moved over on the bed so he could slide in next to you. “Tell me about the last 10 years.” 

[earthtoplum]

sincerely yours... // eddie munson.

pairing: eddie munson x fem!ballerina reader (she/her pronouns)

summary: Untouchable, is what he called you. Dating Jason, the captain of the basketball team, most would call you the same. Living your holier than thou life, something else he said, you can't seem to swallow the need to prove him wrong.

word count: 11k

warnings: a lot of sex talk, this is for mature audiences only, mentions of marijuana, mentions of alcohol, slight insinuation of mean parenting on eddies end.

a/n: hi, thanks for being here :) i have been sitting on this for a while and have decided to let it be free. this is set up for a fic, all of my work seems to be *eyeroll*, i'm sick of myself, can never do something SMALL. how many high school 80s fics can we make of eddie... lets find out.

A fluff of dirty blonde hair brushes against your chin, a sweet musky scent flooding your senses, his favorite shampoo. The locks of hair were soft, you could get lost in them for hours, whether you were burying your nose in the thick tresses or dragging your fingers through them. Tonight they were tickling your skin, caressing the smooth curve of your jaw as the boy they belonged to pressed chaste kisses to your neck.

“Think you’ll be able to stay over?” He mumbles, lifting his chin to meet your eyes. Releasing a breath, you raise an eyebrow at your boyfriend and shake your head.

“Jason, I told you,” You say, repeating yourself for third time, “I’ve got a really important rehearsal this Saturday,” Glancing away, Jason bobs his head, “I don’t miss them for anything,” You smile, bringing a hand beneath his chin to make him look back at you, “Not even pretty boys like you.”

“Pretty boys like me,” Jason smirks, playfully rolling his eyes, “I’m flattered… Even if my feelings are hurt.” His pink lips that fit perfectly on his face pulled into a pout.

“No!” You giggle, cupping his cheeks, making his lips squish out, “They won’t be when you get to see the show.” He tries to smile, squishing his cheeks further.

“I can’t wait,” He sighs, then shifts over top of you, “Now keep kissing me.”

Giving him a grin, you slide your arms around his shoulders and pull him close, pressing your lips to his slowly, yet innocently. 

It was all too sweet and careful. That’s all it ever was, all of the time. You’d begun to pray for time away from him so you wouldn’t grow bored of this, though some part of your subconscious, the part you ignored, was telling you that you already were.

The way your body reacted to him was enough of a sign. Kissing him was nice, he was good at that, it was everything else where he gave a subpar performance. Unlike his success on the basketball court, most times you were reaching, praying for a buzzer beater, but got left with nothing.

On the court the boy could score, many times, however, between the sheets, nothing.

This weekend his parents were going out of town which left him with an empty house. Jason was notorious for throwing rager’s, and now that you were seniors it was without a doubt they’d be bigger and better than they’ve ever been. The basketball team already knew how they were going to get their hands on three different kegs, and Jason’s dad already kept one in their basement, so this party was going to blow a hole through their roof.

On top of you, Jason slides a gentle hand over your blouse, just barely grabbing your breast, like he was nervous. That expression never showed elsewhere though, his face always read as confident, and sure of himself.

The soft touch was far from satisfying.

As his hand slipped lower, never spending enough time anywhere to rile you up, he peppered kisses to the side of your neck like he once was, using just his lips in a quick, staccato motion.

“Jason,” You whisper before his hand has the chance to slide beneath your skirt. He picks his head up with a smile.

“You have to go,” He says, half disappointed, looking at the clock on his nightstand, “Eh, it’s only eight thirty, we have a half hour,” And before he pecks at your skin again, you stop him, placing both your hands to his shoulders.

“I know, but, I never finished my homework for O’Donnell, and she’s been up my butt because I’ve been barely making deadlines because of rehearsal, and I need-“

“Okay,” Jason laughs softly, leaning down to kiss your lips to shut you up, “I get it,” He nods, then the air falls quiet for a few seconds before he shrugs, “Feel like it’s been hard to catch you recently, that’s all.”

“I’m sorry,” You whisper, taking in his deep blue eyes. With a subtle shake of his head he crinkles his chin.

“Don’t be sorry, baby,” He says, dipping his nose down to touch yours, “I just miss you, that’s all, like… miss you.” He raises his brows, making your cheeks blush. Even though he wasn’t talented, his charismatic aura sure had a way of making up for it. 

Plus, sex wasn’t a topic the two of you spoke openly about, it was something that just happened. 

The first time you and Jason went through with the act was the first time either of you had done anything with anyone. So, in a way, you really had no clue if he was bad at it, you had nothing else to compare it to.  Maybe that’s just how sex was, for the guy to get off while the girl laid on her back for seven minutes and kind of enjoyed it.

“I’m sorry,” You repeat yourself, unsure of what else to tell him. Jason’s smile grows.

“You’re cute,” He says, then rolls off you carefully so he can stand on his feet. 

Reaching a hand out for you to take, he helps you up and gives you another kiss before you hurry to slip into your shoes. Smoothing down your shirt and adjusting your skirt, you look over to your boyfriend who’s leaning against his dresser with his arms crossed, wearing a curious expression.

“What?” You ask quietly, freezing under his gaze, your fingers dancing along the hem of your skirt.

“You think you can ask your dad to extend your curfew?” He cocks his head to the side, “It’s been nine o’clock since you were fourteen, we’re eighteen. Nine just seems… A little immature.”

Pointing your eyes down to the floor, you feel your stomach churn at the question. Your curfew was nine o’clock for a reason, Jason knew this.

“I- I can- I dunno,” You stammer, “Jason, you know how he is.”

“I know, I know,” He slightly raises his voice, pushing off the dresser with his shoulder, taking slow steps toward you. His tone brushes off the seriousness in yours. “You’re just… We… We’re adults now.” 

Standing in front of you, arms still crossed, there’s a persuasiveness peeking through his eyes that’s incredibly chilling. Gulping, you nod your head and look back down to the floor at your feet.

“Hey,” Jason’s entire being softens as he reaches for your shoulder, “Look at me,” He’s wearing a smile when you obey his command, “I love you.”

Painting a smile onto your lips, you whisper, “I love you, too,” Confidently enough so that he’ll let you go.

“C’mon,” He gestures to his bedroom door, “I’ll drive you home.”

Walking the fuzzy carpet of his long, grand hallway, the two of you trot down the stairs hand in hand to greet his parents in the kitchen. His mother, who he so closely resembled, was finishing up the dishes from dinner while his father sat at the table reading the newspaper from this morning. Amongst the dark blue cabinets and striped wallpaper, they truly painted the perfect cookie cutter picture.

Your and Jason's footsteps announced your arrival, cutting off his father who was complaining about whatever he was reading, something about the government probably. That’s what all dads in Hawkins seemed to talk about anyway.

“Heading out?” Jason’s mother asks, wearing a red lipstick smile to go with her sage green stretch pants, a matching sweater and her tightly permed curls. Every time you saw Ms. Carver she was done up like she was ready for her picture to be taken.

“Yes, I’m gonna drive her home,” Jason answers. His father lays the newspaper down and clears his throat.

“Son, she wasn’t talking to you,” Raising an eyebrow, Mr. Carver straightens out his glasses as Jason composes his posture. You give him a small smile, one he returns.

“I have homework to catch up on,” You turn to Ms. Carver and sigh, amping up the act. Tossing a dish towel beside the sink, the poised woman turns to face you and props herself against the counter with a hand on her hip.

“You are just too busy, my dear,” She copies your fake exhaustion with a shake of her head, “When is this ballet show of yours?”

“Soon,” You smile, “We perform over spring break, so, a couple weeks.”

“That’s too darn exciting,” Ms. Carver grins, “Jason, you need to stop keepin’ her here! This girl is doing big things,” Jason’s mother leaves her place at the sink, moving closer to you so that she can cup one of your cheeks, “I’m so proud of you,” She says, then looks over to her son, “I’m so proud of both of you. You’ve grown up so much, you’re hard workers, and you’re committed to your faith.”

The reason Jason was allowed to have you upstairs, in his bedroom, with the door closed. You both wore a thin silver band on the ring finger of your left hand.

“Thank you,” You say, without a falter to your exterior, even though on the inside you were sweating.

Jason, an impeccable liar, leans over to give his mother a kiss on the cheek.

“I’ll be back in twenty,” He says, then leads you out to his car as you call out goodbyes to his parents, thanking them for dinner.

The drive home is everything ordinary. If one was to imagine a vanilla version of taking someone home, it was Jason driving his black Jeep Cherokee to your house, walking you to your front door and giving you a kiss on the cheek before saying goodnight to you and your father who met you at the doorstep.

After your fathers hand is shaken, Jason backs away from the door with a smile, then whispers, “Ask him,” with widened eyes. Giving him a small nod, you blow him a kiss and step inside.

“That boy knows all the right things, don’t he?” Your father asks, having found a comfortable spot on the aged living room couch.

Once the door is closed, you take a deep breath before turning around with a smile.

“He does!” You joke with him, taking a couple steps toward him. Eyeing you curiously, your dad sends a crooked smile your way and taps the cushion beside him, hoping you’d sit down with him. With a frown and a head tilt toward the stairs you tell him you have to get to your room.

“Now hold on,” He chuckles, “Just a couple minutes.”

“Okay,” You sigh, “But I’ve got homework, so don’t start any stories.” Mulling toward him, you plop next to him and relax back into the couch.

“Homework for who?” He questions, raising a brow.

“Oh, uh, Miss Click,” You say, your eyes dancing about the homey living room. Your father nods, humming in interest.

“Sure, sure,” He says, “You’re ready for Saturday’s rehearsal?”

Whipping your head at lightning speed, your eyes nearly bug out of your head, “Are you kidding? I’m overly prepared, I’m too prepared, I’m three months past prepared.”

Your father laughs, “I know you are.”

“This show is the make or break moment for me, Dad,” You begin, and his expression shifts to a serious one, “The show has got to be perfect, or I’m in huge trouble”

“Huge trouble?” He asks. You hold up a hand.

“With myself,” You explain, “This spring show is what’s going to get me that scholarship. If I screw it up? I’ll never forgive myself.”

Furrowing his brow, your father hums again.

“I’ve prepared every moment of my life for this,” You begin to speak with your hands, “Everything I’ve done has led me to this performance, and this performance will lead me to my future.”

“And it will take you… where?” He asks happily.

Sucking in a quick breath, you speak loud and clear, “New York City.”

Holding up his hand, you slap your palm against his with a smack.

“Since you were five years old, that’s where you’ve always dreamed of going,” Your father says, “Your mother swore she was going to take you there herself.”

Glancing down to your lap, you sigh at the thought of a dream cut entirely too short.

“No matter how I get there, she’ll be with me,” You say quietly, then look up at him with a small smile, “Thanks, Dad.”

“Anytime, kiddo,” He nods, “You aren’t being too hard on yourself are you?” He asks, “Your workload is alright?”

“My teachers all know what my life is like, they’ve been working with me all year,” You reassure him.

“Right,” He shrugs presumptively, “Just making sure. How about physically? You doin’ okay? That ankle been alright?”

Lifting your left foot you give it a couple rolls, feeling the strain on the joint, then press your lips together.

“Nothing to complain about,” You lie, though living a dancer's life you’ve become accustomed to dancing through injuries.

“Okay,” Is the last thing he says before, “Goodnight.”

And once you say it in response, you’re barrelling up the stairs for your bedroom to listen to some music and get ready for bed.

Waking up the next morning is a breeze, it typically always is. With an alarm set for six, you’re leaping out of bed and into the shower for five minutes exact, eight if you had to wash your hair. Today you were pulling it back into a tight, neat bun, so there wasn’t a need to tack on three pointless minutes.

After the shower you’re whizzing back to your room to slip on your clothes for the day, settling for a long sleeved, light blue sweater tucked into a calf length, darker brown maxi skirt, like the one Molly Ringwald wore in The Breakfast Club. 

Even though the movie’s been out for a year, every female everywhere clung to the new it girl, especially the girls here in small town Hawkins, Indiana. They all nearly tore down the department stores searching for that outfit, and a John Bender to go with it. 

When you and a couple of girls from your dance company went out a week or so after seeing the film, you got your hands on a skirt your size and charged your fathers credit card without even asking to buy it. You’d repay him somehow, eventually.

Finishing your outfit off with a pair of boots that matched, you took care of your hair, preparing it for tomorrow's early morning rehearsal, and then you were off down the stairs to meet your father in the kitchen twirling his keys.

“Swear, each day you get earlier and earlier,” He smiles at you, glancing at the clock hanging on the wall above the stove, “It’s six thirty three, I swore I just heard you get up.”

Stepping beside him, you pick a banana up from the basket on the kitchen table and laugh under your breath.

“I’m a dancer, Dad,” You say, peeling the fruit and taking a bite, “I coul’ be rea’y in under uh min-uh if I wan’ed to.” Your father blinks a couple of times, then smiles.

“Would that make you practice better manners?” He jokes, gesturing to your mouth full of banana. Slumping your shoulders, you roll your eyes theatrically even though you know he’s kidding.

With a hard swallow you clear your throat and say, “Are we wasting time talking about my table manners, or are we leaving?”

“We’re leaving,” He snickers, tossing the keys in the air, only to catch them a millisecond later, “Did you finish your homework?” He asks as you follow him through the front door, looking over his shoulder to find you picking off the weird strands that are inside the banana peel, flicking them to the ground.

“I didn’t have any,” You mumble, partially listening to what he was saying. Six thirty in the morning, though you knew how to get ready fast, did not mean your brain was as awake as the rest of you.

Locking the front door, your father frowns, creasing his brow. Like you were his shadow, you waited for him on the step just off of the porch, focused on your makeshift breakfast. He smiles to himself when he turns and finds you standing there without a reason.

“Thought you said you had some work to finish, no?” He tries to ask again, eyeing you curiously while you now walk beside him to the car.

“No, I always make sure I finish assignments days before they’re due when it’s a tech weekend,” You scrunch your face, giving your dad a funny look because he knew this about you. Once you meet his ominous eyes and silly smirk, your brain catches up to reality.

Sliding into the front seat, your eyes are wide, and judging by your fathers laugh, he was two steps ahead of you. 

The car doors are pulled shut at the same exact time, and for the first couple of minutes the two of you ride in silence, aside from the radio.

“Y’know, I thought it was funny, last night, hearing you say you had work due today,” The conversation had finally sparked once you were driving through the heart of Hawkins, passing by the tall, beautiful library. The streets this morning were littered with men and women alike, bustling to get to work, or going for a morning jog now that the weather encouraged them too.

“You believed me,” You mumble, focusing on the trees that were finally turning green, giving the drab town a pop of color. Your father peeks at you with a funny look, one you don’t see.

“Eh,” He sneers, “For a second, maybe,” Shrugging, he turns down a long street, one that will take you straight to the campus that was Hawkins High and Middle School, “But, I’m not the one you had to convince.” He gives you another look, one you reciprocate. 

There’s another silence, a gap of dense air growing so large it could suffocate both you and your father, and the only thing that was going to save either of your lives was if you explained why you had lied to Jason.

“I… I wanted to go home,” You admit quietly, scanning the groups of people that had suddenly come into view now that you were over the hill in the road.

“You wanted to go home,” He repeats, “Okay, why couldn’t you have just told him that? Instead of making things up?”

“Because,” You snap, turning your chin to shoot him a sharp glare. Frowning once more, your father slows down and waits for a couple of kids to cross the street, then pulls into a parking space by the front of the school.

“Because, why?” He asks, egging you on, building up a resentment within you, one that's making you feel guilty for having the thoughts you were.

“Because, Dad, I wanted to go home,” Leaning forward in the chair, you unbuckle and open the visor to check yourself out in the tiny mirror, “I don’t always need a reason.”

“Well, I know that, that’s totally fine, I just want to make sure everything is alright that’s all,” He says, resting his hands on his lap, “Jason’s always a respectable young man when he’s at our place, I mean, I never get to see how he acts at his, so, I’m only being a dad and checking in,” Seeing that you were ignoring him, but not getting out of the car yet, gave him the impression that you had something you wanted to share, you just weren’t ready.

“It’s… fine,” You mutter, pulling a clear lip gloss out of your bag, smearing it on thick. His eyes flicker to the silver band on your left hand, a tiny accessory he had no part in deciding for you to wear.

“Alright,” Your father nods, “Have a good day.”

“Thanks,” Tossing the tube back into your bag, you take a deep breath, flash him your best smile, and jump out of the car to let him get to work.

For years it’s been you and your father against the world. Both of you had a strong bond, a deep connection that was strengthened by the open line of communication you practiced. The man wasn’t high strung in the slightest, he lived a life of peace and ease as best as he could. A majority of your talks end with him telling you, “I’ve been your age before…” or, “When I was a teenager, this was what we’d do…”

A lot of his memories and stories were blamed on all the marijuana he used to smoke with his friends. It shocked you the first time you heard him say it, you had to have been about thirteen years old, but since that day you’ve both shared almost everything with one another. If you were stuck, if you needed assistance with a project, a shoulder to cry on, or boy advice… You knew you could count on your father.

Lying to him last night, and just now in the passenger seat of his car, wrecked your heart. You haven’t told him a lie since you were eight years old, and even then it was you trying to convince him that you didn’t eat a cookie before dinner. 

This Jason situation, that stemmed from your issues in the sack, was not going to be discussed with your father. At least not yet, not until you’ve had a proper amount of time to think things through.

Hopping up onto the sidewalk beneath the awning of the schools pavilion, you keep to yourself though your eyes stay vigilant, searching for a face of familiarity. A smile graces your lips when every other girl you walk by ogles at the skirt that you’re wearing. Normally they’d take a peek at you because you were the girl that was dating Jason Carver, captain of the basketball team. It was a comforting feeling to know that this time, they were seeing you instead of somebody’s girlfriend.

Crossing over the threshold of the double doors, the halls of Hawkins High welcome you with white brick walls and debilitating overhead lighting. Decorations and posters were hung up where it was appropriate, attempting to jazz up the place while ultimately looking like a sad birthday party.

On the bulletin board by the doors, there was a poster for your spring show. You made sure to look at the beautiful print everyday as a reminder to keep yourself going, to keep working hard no matter how tough it seemed. In just three short months you’d be graduating from this prison, and set free in the real world to live your dream… If the show goes according to plan.

Just as you return your focus back down the hall, a human being of average height with short, light brown hair collides into your side, catching you with one of their arms.

“Jesus, Robin!” You exclaim, nearly jumping a mile. Laughing with pride, Robin situates her arm around your shoulders and bites onto her bottom lip.

“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself,” Her voice was smooth, and easy on the ears, though it had the tendency to sometimes sound a bit deep fried, “I know you look at that thing all the time, daydreaming about your future,” She sing-songs, falling into another fit of giggles.

“I do,” You groan, side eyeing her, “Don’t make fun of me.” Pulling your lips into a small pout, Robin copies you, turning up the theatrics and gives your cheeks a squeeze.

“Oh, my sweet honey bun,” Robin coo’s sarcastically, making you smile, “I’m so sorry.”

“My sweet honey bun,” A green Hawkins High Varsity Basketball jacket appears beside you, slipping an arm around your waist, wedging you between him and Robin. The girl you’ve called your best friend since fifth grade drops her grasp, pulling her arms behind her back, assuming a very well structured stance.

“Jason,” Robin states.

“Robin,” Your boyfriend sends back an equally professional tone.

Smiling as your best friend gives you a sarcastic glare, she taps you on the arm once, glances at the poster on the bulletin board and nods her head.

“I know it’s important to you,” She says, “Steve and I will be there, he’s able to buy the tickets that night right?”

“Yeah, just tell him to bring change, the company’s not known to have any,” You say, and she flashes you a thumbs up before giving Jason a salute and taking off down the hall.

“She’s still hanging around Harrington?” Jason asks, pulling you into his hip tighter as he starts to walk with you to your first class, “I don’t get how they don’t date.”

“Boys and girls can be friends,” You say, looking at your boyfriend for the first time this morning. His hair was slicked back perfectly, and underneath his jacket he wore a white t-shirt and light denim jeans that hugged him in all the right places.

“I know that,” He chuckles, “It’s kinda hard though, someone falls eventually.” Holding back your grin, you simply nod your head.

There were a couple secrets you’ve been sworn to keep, ones that you wouldn’t even share with your father, which means Jason didn’t get to know either. A couple Robin leveled secrets that only you knew, and now Steve, apparently.

“How’d the work go?” Jason returns your look, smiling the second he sees your face, “Hope you weren’t up too late.” 

Everything about him screamed attraction. From his smile, to his hair, to his sparkling eyes, down to the toned body he knew how to keep up with… He was a dreamboat, and every other girl that skipped down these halls wanted a piece. Freshmen came into this school knowing who he was, like the girls your age once knew of Steve Harrington. Jason was a star amidst the solum white brick walls of Hawkins High, a star that, once upon a time, knew how to make your heart skip a beat.

“Something on my face?” He asks you, pausing by your locker. Blinking twice, blankly, he pulls you from your thoughts.

“Oh, uh, no, sorry,” You sigh, starting to toy with the lock, pulling it open after three fancy twists.

“Guess I was right, not much sleep?” He raises a brow, leaning his back against the locker beside yours.

Pulling out two books while Jason gives a wave to a couple of people who said hello to him, you close the metal door with a slam and shake your head.

“Uh, not really,” You manage to choke out another lie. Last night you slept like a rock.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Jason says softly, turning to face you. Lifting a hand he drags the back of his fingers daintily across your cheek, placing one beneath your chin to beckon you closer for a kiss.

Closing your eyes, you drift into the comfort, the familiar feeling, the normality of it all, and for a second it feels good, with the potential to feel great, until a six foot tall being is thrown into the mix.

“Gareth!” Comes out of the long, curly, brown haired boy's mouth in a screech as he catches himself on his feet so he doesn’t dive into you and Jason head first.

“Watch it,” Your boyfriend sneers, holding up an elbow to protect you from a collision.

Laughter sounds from across the hall pulling your attention. It’s coming from three boys, a shorter one with light hair, a tall, lanky one with black curly hair, and one that fit right between them in height with a baseball cap on his head.

The one who was almost tossed into you stands up straight with his back facing you, flipping his messy mop backwards.

“I’ll kill you, I will,” He grills his friends from behind his teeth.

Turning around quickly, the boy four inches taller than Jason presses his lips together and acknowledges your boyfriend first.

“My sincerest apologies,” He says, seemingly not sorry at all, “I did not mean to interrupt thou, please, continue,” His deep brown eyes meet yours for half of a second, “Ma’am,” He bows his head and turns away, until he whips body back around, “Wait a sec… I know you,” And before you can process any of it, the tall boy with the curly bangs and leather jacket who was blessed with beautiful brown eyes three shades too deep with absolutely no concept of personal space, your boyfriend was slapping a hand to his shoulder to shove him away.

“Get out of here, freak,” Jason curls his lip in disgust, marking his territory with a cold glare toward the four boys across the emptying hallway. You can feel his hands touch you again, you aren’t too sure where though, your gaze is fixated on the boy who looks like he’s straight out of a movie, who’s own gaze hasn’t left you yet as he tumbles backwards into, you assume, Gareth’s arms.

A jumble of the boys saying, “Let’s go,” to one another can be heard at the same time as Jason asking you if you were alright.

“…Eddie has nothing better to do than prowl the hallways looking for…” 

Eddie. That was his name.

Your boyfriend's voice was going in one ear and out the other as you watched Eddie shamelessly check you out, head to toe, ending on your hooked stare he picked up on fast.

“See you in O’Donnell’s, princess,” Eddie glances down to the skirt you’re wearing and follows his friends without a second look back. With one use of the word, Eddie unknowingly sets you up for disaster.

“Hey, what the hell!” Jason shouts after them.

“My skirt, Jason,” You say, shushing him by grabbing the sleeve of his jacket with the hand that wasn’t balancing your books.

“What’s your skirt have anything to do with what he just called you,” You could almost see the steam blowing out of his ears, “Freaks got some nerve, I swear if I-“

“Jason,” Sighing heavily, you lift your empty hand to slide it around the back of his neck, “The Breakfast Club, the movie? The one with Molly Ringwald?”

“Yeah?” He shakes his head angrily, not following.

“She wears a skirt like this,” You explain softly, feeling like you were calming a toddler’s temper tantrum, “They call her character a princess.” Jason knits his brows together.

“I really didn’t like that movie,” He says, then looks down to your skirt, “And I wouldn’t have picked up on that, that’s a lot of attention to detail, I’m surprised the freak’s got that much mental capacity.”

Jason's arm snakes around your waist like it was a little while ago, and as if on cue, the conversation had shifted to the party tonight, putting your boyfriend in a much happier mood than droning on about movies and Eddie Munson.

Pausing in front of the door of your first class, he finishes what he needs to say, gives you the fastest smooch, then scurries away to the gym.

Watching him hurry off until he’s out of view, you look down at your skirt and take a long deep breath. Personally, you loved the movie, and this skirt was your everything, it made you feel good- no, it made you feel great.

Jason didn’t notice it.

Eddie, the boy you’ve seen vaguely around the halls and in different classes noticed it.

Eddie, the boy who seemed to stir things up within you with a simple look, things your boyfriend couldn’t seem to awaken even if he was actively between your legs.

Standing up straight, adjusting your books on your hip, you take another deep breath and slip inside the door, right into Ms. O’Donnell’s. 

Keeping your gaze fixated on the floor while keeping your chin held high, you beeline across the front of the classroom, turning into the last row of desks that were lined against the windows. Eddie was in this class, a fact you were already aware of. Now aware of another fact, he was going to be somebody you wanted to ignore. Big time.

Your desk was third from the back leaving you wedged between Nancy Wheeler in the desk in front of yours, and Chrissy Cunningham in the one behind.

Passing by Nancy you share a civil smile, something of routine. She wasn’t someone you’d engage in regular conversation with, but every time you’ve had the chance to chat she was nothing but nice.

Robin’s shared facts about the girl with big, owl eyes and permed hair, adding in that she’s got a teeny, tiny crush on her. Those are the words Robin uses, teeny and tiny, though whenever Nancy is the topic, Robin takes an unforgiving form, babbling and droning on and on about how smart she is, or how nice her hair looks.

You paid no mind to your best friend's rants, you knew you were the only one she could talk to, at least about Nancy… She wasn’t a girl she was able to share with Steve.

Just like Nancy, Chrissy Cunningham was another female in Hawkins High you’d avoid voluntary conversation with. The cheerleader had eyes for Jason, so much that sophomore year when your relationship began, you weren’t sure you and Jason were going to make it.

With a high pony and bangs that framed her baby face, she was the one cheerleader everybody wanted, getting to spend hours upon hours with the basketball team. Surely anyone could see why your relationship had such a rocky start, thus creating a deeper meaning for the ring on your and Jason’s left hand.

About to flash her a smile, pettier than the one you gave to Nancy, you find that she’s absent for the day leaving her desk up for grabs, which inevitably enough had to have been snatched up pretty quick. 

Sliding your books on the desk, you press your lips firmly together and release a quiet sigh. 

Deep brown eyes, three shades too dark are gazing back, kicked back in the chair with his lengthy legs stretched out underneath yours. 

“Morning,” He says, smug as anything.

“Morning,” You nod with a slight eye roll, doing your absolute best to keep your eyes on him to assert some type of dominance, not because you were dying to check out the rest of his appearance.

You saw him in the hallway, you got a good look at him. Eddie is the utter opposite of everything you know. 

Dressed in ripped jeans and a leather jacket with a denim vest thrown overtop, he was intimidating. The boy wore rings on nearly every finger, you wouldn’t be surprised if he had some sort of piercing somewhere as well. He has tattoo’s… Multiple. 

Jason once mentioned not too long ago how he cannot believe anyone would want to mark their skin permanently, for life. Partially in agreement, half of you sweats at the idea of making an enormous commitment like a tattoo, but the other half finds it exciting, and just plain cool. It probably had to do with the artist within you, your creative heart longing for another form of creation and inspiration.

In passing, like how you knew he was in this class, you’ve seen one of Eddie’s tattoo’s, the bats on his arm that were each completely blacked out. Barely remembering his name then, you thought of asking him how it felt, and what he endured during the process, just to have the knowledge, not for any other reason… Obviously you’d never gotten around to that.

“Might wanna take a seat, it’s an hour long class,” Eddie says, cocking his head to the side, catching onto you and your curious eyes once again. 

Scoffing, you tear away your gaze embarrassingly fast, hang your bag on the back of your chair and slip into your seat just as Ms. O’Donnell steps inside the classroom.

“Good morning students,” Her monotonous voice carried across the tiled floors, greeting you in a way that everyone felt at half past seven in the morning.

Flipping your textbook open to the last chapter the class had left off on, you lean to the left to pick out a pencil from your bag and find Eddie tapping the bottom of it with his sneaker, making it rock side to side.

“…To chapter twelve, we’ll begin review…” Ms. O’Donnell drones on in the background as you shoot Eddie a cold glare over your shoulder. He maintained a face, wearing the calmest, slyest expression without a smile.

Shoving a hand all the way to the bottom beneath your wallet, under the make up, next to the oval compact mirror you’ve had for years, you finally grab a pencil and slip your hand out quick so you can face forward and ignore Eddie.

Normally he’d be sitting across the room in the last desk in the row, sometimes sleeping. You couldn’t understand why he’d want to sit closer to the windows where the sun would blaze down on him when he could be across the room in the shade like a sleepy little vampire.

Immediately shaking that thought out of your brain and the use of the word ‘little’, you refocus and take a long deep breath, exhaling at the same time as your bag sliding off the back of your chair, hitting the floor in a clobber.

At least four heads turn toward the commotion, including Ms. O’Donnells.

Shutting your eyes momentarily, you compose your being before turning around to pick it up, meeting Eddie’s little smirk.

His feet were now tucked under his own chair, balancing on the toes, creasing the front of his white Reebok’s.

“Apologies,” He says quietly, lowering his brows a bit.

“Don’t worry about it,” You mumble, whipping forward with a vengeance, hoping he’d sense your frustration so he’d leave you alone, but the boy seemed to be relentless. 

Leaning toward his desk to get closer to you, he rests his chest on the wood and whispers, “I have a question.”

You open a notebook to jot down the things Ms. O’Donnell had started to review, putting the new notes below the ones from yesterday. As you scribble as fast as she’s speaking, you hear Eddie tap his fingers on his desk.

With another deep sigh, you stay zoned in on your notes, but whisper, “What?”

He answers right away, waiting somewhat patiently.

“Did you do the homework?” He asks. With a roll of your eyes you nod your head to answer him. That would be what he wants, you’re very prompt with your work and it’s not something you tend to hide.

“‘Course you did,” He seems to snicker.

Turning your chin toward your shoulder, you glare down to his feet and mutter, “What is that supposed to mean?” 

“No talking, please!” Ms. O’Donnell cuts in, stopping her sentence about the lesson short.

Shifting around, you resume your note taking and active listening.

About ten minutes pass in peace, but as you raise your hand to answer the third question your teacher has asked, you hear another sound of a quiet laugh from behind you.

Snapping your hand back down to your side you let another student answer this one, using the time to turn around to address the situation you were in.

Staring out the window, nibbling on the nail of his thumb, Eddie is smiling, shaking his head the slightest bit.

“Can you shut up?” You sneer, keeping your volume under control.

Dropping his hand to his lap, he swipes his tongue over his bottom lip and looks at you. Like sweet caramel, his eyes were truly a sight to get lost in, and when they shift over to your angry brows the way they make your stomach flip riddles you with nerves.

“I can’t help it,” He says.

“Well, get it together,” You finally glance down to the shirt he’s wearing under his jacket- a white Motley Crue tour t-shirt from 1983, with big orange letters and the four members of the band in the center. Your dad went to that concert, you remember spending the night at Robin’s so that he could go.

Eddie glances down at his tee, flickering only his eyes up to you.

“You like them?” He asks, his demeanor changing to much nicer than before. Looking at him, you part your lips to speak but struggle to find the words.

“My dad went to the- I mean, yeah, they’re cool, my dad, listens,” You manage to whisper.

“Do we have a problem back there?” Ms. O’Donnell calls out to the two of you. You would have broken your neck with how quick you turned to her.

“Sorry, no,” You say, obtaining the third condescending laugh from behind your back.

Telling yourself you were going to ignore Eddie and his immature pestering for the next fifty minutes, he whispers four words that send a shock down your spine, “Such a good girl.”

There wasn’t a soul in Hawkins who has ever said such a thing to you. It was a simple sentence, one that people everywhere say in a meaningless, innocent matter. You’ve heard people say it to their pets, their cars even, those four words, specifically the two at the end, were not supposed to make you sweat.

Eddie oozed sexual energy, that much was clear. A cocky, confident aura was alluring, you were with Jason for god's sake, but Eddie was also self aware, and that turned the sexiness up to the nth degree. There wasn’t ever a moment he seemed to be pretending, he was who he was, and it didn’t look like he had a problem with that.

For all you know, he could say those things to anybody. He’s never been spotted with a girl, or guy, whatever he may like, you don’t know a thing about his life, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t exactly getting any action either.

Walking the halls of Hawkins as if he owned the place, looking like the bad boy heartthrob of any movie, it was impossible to not think about, or at least be intrigued by his sex life, if he had one.

Someone who uses words like ‘good girl’ in such an easy manner had to have one. That type of sentence doesn’t come out of thin air. It comes from practice.

Ms. O’Donnell’s voice fades into the background, your thoughts now clouded because of the boy sitting behind you. 

Shifting in your seat, crossing your legs, you glance up to the clock momentarily and find fifteen minutes have passed. Fifteen minutes of the teacher talking that you haven’t heard, and a quarter of an hour of missed notes.

Tapping the eraser of your pencil on the desk, you look to it as your lips part in surprise. The pink, rubber end was covered in teeth marks, completely chewed up. 

“What the…” Tumbles from your lips, lifting the pencil for a closer look.

“You were going to town on that thing,” Eddie whispers. Uncrossing your legs to cross the other on top, you shift in your seat again, blinking what seemed like a trillion times to help you ignore the distraction that should not be a distraction.

Eddie should be easy to ignore, he’s the type of guy you want to ignore. You grow up hearing stories about people like him, and how they’re the kind of people you shun out of society because they don’t do it any good unless they shape up and become better citizens.

Conditioned to ignore and shun, you cannot begin to imagine, or logically think why you have the deepest urge to turn around and engage with the jerk.

That’s what he is, a jerk. He saw you kissing Jason in the hallway, that has to be the reason why he’s chosen to suddenly taunt you when he’s been sitting in the same class with you all year. Eddie and your boyfriend have some unexplained rift between them, probably the clashing of societal values or something, you're sure Jason has mentioned it before, so that’s got to be the reason why.

It’s a part of the feud. Eddie is trying to get to him through you.

With a deep breath, you place the pencil on your book.

“I’ve never seen you this fidgety before,” Eddie eggs on, “Everything alright?” The stealthiness can be heard in his voice, like you were already aware of, he knew what he was doing.

“Just totally annoyed,” You mutter over your shoulder. Eddie laughs.

“Oh, yeah,” He smiles, “I’m sure you are.”

At the front of the classroom, Ms. O’Donnell places stacks of paper on each desk in the first row to be passed backward. Nancy stretches a slender hand behind her, not bothering to turn around to deliver the sheets face to face. Accepting them with a soft, “Thank you,” you take one and hand the remainder to Eddie, copying Nancy’s technique, unintentionally flashing the ring on your finger to the boy.

“What is that?” He asks with grandeur as the class falls into a quiet chatter while everyone begins their work.

“What is what?” You sigh, writing your name at the top of your paper.

To your left, a hand is held out to you. Eddie wiggles his ring finger when you look down to it.

The sight of his boney, callused fingers strikes a bolt of lightning through your chest. All four fingers were adorned with chunky, silver rings of different shapes and creatures you didn’t dare to ask more about- though you wanted to.

Swallowing hard, you peek at him and raise an eyebrow, “My ring?”

“Yeah, that,” He says, nodding, stretching his neck to catch another look.

Holding up your left hand, you widen your eyes and slightly curl your lip.

“What about it?” You ask, your tone flat.

Eddie stares at the silver band, taking it in for a second before he starts to smile.

“You and the jock married or something?” He jokes, looking at you, leaning further onto his desk so he was just about laying on it. His hand was still stretched out beside you, dangling next to your torso.

“Not married,” You state with persistence, making Eddie snort.

“Damn,” He chuckles, “Someone better warn him to take his time.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You don’t sound too happy about marrying him, that’s all.”

Scoffing, you say, “I’m eighteen, we’re eighteen, we have plenty of time to think about getting married.”

“So, it’s what, a promise ring, or something?” Eddie continues to dig.

“Why do you care?” Turning around, you sit sideways in your desk and choose not to pay attention to his hand that’s now hanging above your lap that didn’t even flinch as you twisted.

Resting his head on his arm, his bangs swish to the side, the new angle making his eyes appear even larger, more soft.

Eddie shrugs his shoulders and glances around before planting his gaze on you, saying, “You both wear them, everybody talks about it.” You stop yourself from widening your eyes.

“Ev… Everybody?” You ask, hushed. Eddie nods.

“Your lover boy feeds off the energy of everybody else in case you haven’t realized,” Eddie smirks. Snapping your eyes to your lap, and evidently Eddie’s hand, you take a breath.

“I’ve realized,” You roll your eyes, to which Eddie picks his head up.

“Ah, hah,” He grins, “You aren’t happy.”

“I never said that,” You grill, giving him a cold stare. Eddie nibbles his bottom lip, sitting back in his chair, moving his hand from in front of your body.

“You didn’t have to,” He winks.

Groaning loud enough that Nancy gives you a look, you twist forward in the chair and hunch over the worksheet you’ve yet to start. 

Sure, you weren’t thrilled about where you were in your relationship with Jason right now, but it was only due to the fact that you were under immense pressure in every aspect of your life.

When the spring show was over, when finals had passed, when the light of graduation could be seen at the end of the tunnel- That’s when things with Jason would get better. You’d have the proper time to care for and nurture your relationship.

You weren’t about to let Eddie Munson find all of this out, then your business could be spread to everyone in these halls.

“Hey,” Eddie says, reaching a hand out to tap your shoulder, startling you.

“What?!” You furrow your brows and whip your head around, “Don’t touch me.” Lifting a hand, you hold the spot he tapped.

“Right,” Eddie’s eyes go wide like you’ve frightened him. Tucking his hand to his chest he nods, “Shit, you’re right, I’m sorry.”

Relaxing your shoulders, you watch his entire demeanor change before your eyes.

“It’s… It’s fine,” You say.

“No it’s not,” Eddie narrows his eyes, “I should’ve had your permission,” The two of you share a few moments of quiet, Eddie seeming like he was trying to read your mind, “You know that right?” His softened gaze returns, wide puppy dog eyes. It draws you in, shifting your body halfway around.  Incredible, how the boy could shift between both personas at the drop of a hat.

“Know what?” You question, and he sighs, folding his hands on his lap. 

“Jesus Christ, he’s more of a twat than I imagined,” Eddie mumbles, barely audible.

“Excuse me?” You ask genuinely, not having heard half of what he said, only ���he’s’ and ‘twat’, which was almost enough to piece together who he was talking about.

Thinking to himself, Eddie ponders over his response with care. Sitting forward once more he presses his lips together tight and exhales subtly.

Inches apart, you can make out every little spot on his face, every line, and every scar that held incredulous history. A faint squiggle beneath his curly bangs that almost slices through his left brow catches your eye.

“He’s nice to you,” Eddie pauses, watching you study his imperfect complexion, “Right?”

“Who?” You mumble, drawing your eyes across his forehead to a freckle on the side of his jaw. The corners of Eddie’s lips threaten to perk up under your surveillance.

“Uh, your man?” He chuckles. 

Right, Jason.

Clearing your throat, you turn your attention to your knees and nod. Really fast.

“He’s nice to me?” You blurt out.

“I’m asking you, sweetheart,” Eddie smiles. Squeezing your eyes shut, you sigh and shake your head.

“Jeez,” You whisper, then pop open your eyes to give him the best sure of yourself smile you could, “Jason’s nice to me, of course he is.”

Nodding slow, Eddie raises his eyebrows, “Course he is.”

“He is,” You restate, insisting on the matter further, “Treats me like a saint.”

Eddie scoffs under his breath, “Yeah, I’m sure he does.”

“Shut up.”

“Just saying,” Eddie shrugs, “No one wears rings like those,” He glances to your hand, “Unless they’re not having sex.”

Gasping aloud, you throw a look around the room to see if anyone had heard him, but everyone was focused on themselves, even Nancy Wheeler. Feeling your cheeks warm, you take your time to face his smug little smirk.

“Promise ring,” Eddie says, then shrugs again, “Purity ring, what’s the difference, huh?” His tone is nonchalant, all too calm to be discussing this topic with a blatant stranger.

“It is not a purity ring,” You whisper, leaning toward him, lowering your brows above your eyes. Eddie copies you.

“Oh, okay, then why do you both wear them?”

“Because they’re… promise rings, for each other.”

Eddie pulls a face of disgust, “You could’ve picked nicer rings if that’s really what they are.”

“We didn’t get to choose them,” You grit your teeth.

“Why not?” 

“Why does it matter?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, “Why wouldn’t you get to pick out your own promise rings?”

“Because!”

“Because why?”

“Because! His parents-“

Cutting yourself short, not realizing that both of you were leaning further into one another, you zip your lips shut and sit straight up. Eddie doesn’t move, instead, the smile that's gracing his lips grows.

“Finish the sentence,” He says. Ripping your eyes from his for a second, you shake your head. “Come on, finish the sentence.”

“No,” You mutter.

“Interesting,” Eddie squints, still grinning like a fool, “Is it ‘cause I’m not of importance that you won’t listen to me? Finish the sentence.”

“What do you mean by that,” You say, locked onto his gaze.

“I mean, that you listen to everybody when they tell you to do something. You do the homework, you participate in class, you follow the rules, you’re-“

“A good student?” 

“A good girl.”

There were those words again, the ones that chill your spine. The words that definitely came from practice, because you watched them as they tumbled from his lips with ease in real time this time, they weren’t muttered from behind you. He said them with his chest.

They make you feel funny, almost uncomfortable, but only due to the fact that this was how Jason was supposed to make you feel.

Every intimate night you’ve spent with your boyfriend, he reached and reached for this feeling unsuccessfully.

Eddie did it in two words.

Stupidly self aware, Eddie brings his bottom lip between his teeth and gives it a nibble, happily watching your eyes follow. As the sound of what seems like a laugh leaves him, you look up into his disgustingly sweet brown eyes.

“Finish the sentence,” He says, lowering his chin a bit. 

Obliging to his request in a heartbeat, you speak quietly, “His parents got them for us, they were blessed at the church with the promise we’d… remain loyal to our faith and wait until we were married to engage in any sexual behavior.”

“Oh my god,” Eddie laughs, “So you’re a liar, it’s a purity ring.”

There was no need for you to prove yourself to him, there wasn’t a reason for this conversation to be had. Deep down inside of you, a small part of your conscience was screaming at you to turn around, to utterly ignore Eddie and anything he tried to do to you, but for some unforeseen, goddamn reason, you were feeling masochistic, and enjoying this.

“It’s a purity ring to his parents,” You say.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” He sings, “Hold on.”

“Holding,” You nod, a bubble of confidence manifesting within you. Not that you cared a lick if Eddie Munson knew you were having sex.

“Are you telling me you lied to his parents?” He asks. You nod in response. “You made them believe that you’re wearing rings blessed by the Gods, promising that you won’t engage in sexual behaviors, only to do the opposite, and betray them, and all of the Gods and their royal subjects.”

“There’s only one God.”

“Who says? Jason?”

“Eh, kinda-“

“Doesn’t matter,” Eddie shakes his curls as if to shake away the matter, “You have sex, and all this time I thought you and Jason were going celibate for life.” Laughing for half a second, you wipe the smile clean off of your face and raise an eyebrow.

“Why do you care?” You question.

“Cause… you’re you, you’ve been untouchable for as long as I can remember, living your holier than thou life comfortably. It’s just interesting,” It’s Eddie’s turn to study your face, bringing the warmth back to your cheeks.

“Holier than thou,” You whisper, “What?”

“Right, since you’ve been living so comfortably you may not have realized that we live in two different worlds,” Eddie smiles sarcastically.

“Is that what this is?” You scrunch your face as a thousand different emotions shuffle through your mind, “You’re- You’re messing with me, when you’ve never once paid any attention to me, mind you, because you’re- you’re… pissed?! Pissed that I live my life, what, differently than you live yours?”

While you spoke Eddie sat up completely, pressing his back flat against his chair. Folding his hands together on the desk in front of him, he clears his throat dramatically and eyes his rings.

“Wrong, and wrong,” He looks up at you, keeping his chin pointed down.

Placing a fist on his desk you tilt your head with a glare, encouraging him to explain without needing to ask.

“You really are wrapped up in your life,” He says, lowering his voice drastically, “You are so clean cut, so precise about things that it boggles my mind. When was the last time you did something off schedule?”

You shrug, and Eddie chuckles.

“Exactly,” He nods, “Walking around this place, you’ve got, like, hyper focus or some shit, not giving anyone else an ounce of attention. Well, except for the boyfriend,” Eddie rolls his eyes.

“Can we get to the point?” You grill.

“You sound like my dad,” He jokes, cocking his head sideways. His bangs brush away from the scar on his brow again, drawing your gaze toward it.

“And you sound like you’re jealous of my work ethic,” You say quietly.

Eddie raises a hand to adjust his hair, muttering, “Stop,” in the process, causing you to snap your eyes back to his and reach out your hand.

“Sorry, I just-“

The hand he tousled his soft bangs with rests on top of yours, but not on purpose. His fingers are warm, and coupled with the coolness of his metal jewelry, the touch is borderline electric.

At the same time, you and Eddie glance down to where your hands met and jump apart as if the gentle graze was radioactive.

Tucking your hands into your lap, you stare down at your shoes, the boots you chose to wear with the infamous skirt that caught Eddie’s attention. Following your lead, Eddie pulls his hands under his desk, wedging them beneath his thighs. 

There’s a minute of quiet between you while the class radiates its own subtle chatter. 

It should feel awkward, having touched one another in total innocence on accident while only being acquainted, but it’s not. 

Everything about this situation as a whole should be awkward, but it’s not.

Thinking about what he said before he planted his palm over yours, you admit to yourself that he was right. You were uptight about the way you maneuvered school, but it was all for a reason he knew nothing about. It was obvious why it seems like you ignored others and kept pushing through, you had an entire other life Eddie didn’t know you lived.

He doesn’t know your father, doesn’t know it’s just the two of you at home, doesn’t know how important your dancing is, and doesn’t know about the pressure hanging over your shoulders because of the upcoming show.

Your future, your college decision and scholarship opportunities were riding on how well the show goes. So, if you appeared uptight to other students in the hall, you weren’t too sure you cared all that much.

Though, that doesn’t mean the pressure wasn’t becoming too much to handle. As right as Eddie Munson was, part of you wished he wasn’t.

Part of you also wishes to tell him that you’ve noticed him before this moment, just like he’s been hinting at noticing you. 

He’s always been hard to ignore.

Eddie’s way of life appealed to you like no other. Laidback, relaxed, no anxiety about the future- just purely living in the moment and enjoying it with the people he cared about.

Every moment in your life has felt like a brick to get you to the next step, like life was a game of chess and each move was calculated with precision for ultimate success. It was… precise, like Eddie said.

“Y’okay?” He mumbles, knocking you out of your thoughts, bringing you back into reality. Giving his concerned brows a quick glance, you take a breath and nod, then turn around to face the front of the room, picking up your pencil.

“The bell is about to ring,” Ms. O’Donnell shouts above the noise, “I need these papers on my desk as you walk out, double check your work, please!”

Darting your eyes up to the clock, your heart rate skyrockets. The entire hour of class, gone.

“These quizzes are important, I let you use your books and your friends, they should be complete.”

“Oh, shit,” You whisper, skitzing out as you hunch over your paper to start the work assigned to you ages ago, but the second your pencil begins to scribble, the bell rings.

Your classmates leap from their desks as the noise grows louder and the door swings open. Wide eyed, and probably in shock, you look up to Ms. O’Donnell sitting at her desk staring right back at you. She presses her lips together, firm, and sends a disappointed look to you- and the boy behind you.

“Guess we fucked up,” Eddie sighs. Standing up in ease, he slaps a hand on his quiz and snatches it off the desk, mulling up to the teachers desk. His sneakers slap on the tile floor to every third beat of your racing heart. 

“Can I please see both of you,” Ms. O’Donnell takes the blank paper from Eddie, sending you another glare.

Gathering your belongings, sliding your bag over your shoulder, you hold the quiz between your fingers tight to keep your hands from shaking. Approaching Eddie’s side, you hand over the incomplete work with a worried frown.

The woman before you snatches the paper with vigor, eyeing you from behind the glasses that were perched on the tip of her nose. She takes a look at the quiz you’ve given her, and sighs, seeing only your name written at the top.

“At least you had the decency to write your name, Mr. Munson didn’t even give me that,” Ms. O’Donnell perks up a brow, glancing to Eddie momentarily before redirecting her attention to you. “I expect this behavior from him.  Not from you,” She says, her tone laced with disappointment, “This is Eddie’s everyday, not yours.”

Looking over at the boy towering beside you, you find him staring at her desk with an emotionless, empty gaze. 

You wondered how many teachers said this about him, he didn’t even seem surprised. He appeared as if he’s heard this about himself for ages, like… he was entirely self aware. You guess that talent was apparent in every aspect of his life.

That part of you, the one that wanted to interact with Eddie while he was causing this problem, started to feel bad for him. Teachers can be such assholes, this much you know, but to belittle someone in front of themselves, and another, is a different type of assholery.

“I’m so sorry,” You say, your voice wavering with every syllable, “Ms. O’Donnell, you know me, I didn’t do this on purpose I was just-“

Pausing, you turn both of their heads, Eddie and Ms. O’Donnell.

“Just what?” She asks, exhaling heavily.

“Uh,” Stammering, you glance up to Eddie once more, shaking your head, “Distracted,” You mutter, looking to your teacher for some sympathy, and like you did with your father this morning, you lie your ass off, “With my spring show coming up, and rehearsals happening more often, I think my brain needed… needed a second of distraction from the stress, I think it even happened subconsciously, you know I wouldn’t do it-“

Maybe you weren’t lying.

“Okay,” Ms. O’Donnell holds up a hand, cutting you off abruptly, “I get it, but this is an important grade, I don’t want you to miss this assignment.”

“I don’t want to miss it either,” You say.

“Eddie, you should make it up as well,” Your teacher nods her head once, gesturing a hand toward the boy, “Would do you good to have a completed grade? Yeah?”

Slightly shrugging, Eddie nods, and mumbles, “Course.”

“Here’s what we can do,” Ms. O'Donnell begins, “You both can meet me here tomorrow, at this time, and I will let you take the quiz together with the same amount of time as everyone else,” Your heart sinks to your knees.

“No, no,” You speak up, “I have a rehearsal tomorrow, it’s going to be running all day, I can’t do that.” Eddie gives you a curious look.

Folding her hands, your teacher smiles, “It’s fine. Why don’t you take this home with you, finish it tonight, or this weekend, and return it to me Monday morning.”

“Deal,” You blurt out, making Eddie laugh, “I mean, yes, please, yes. I’ll have it done tonight.”

“Wonderful,” Ms. O’Donnell’s eyes switch between you and Eddie as she says, “And maybe you should work on it together,” You and Eddie snap your necks to look at each other, “Everyone worked with some type of partner today, it’d only be fair if you did the same.”

The thought of Eddie Munson coming to your house, or vice versa, twisted your stomach in knots. It’s not that you were worried something would happen, or that he would try to make something happen… It was the fear of telling Jason. 

He would absolutely, one thousand percent, request to be in attendance, and if that were the case, no work would get done. Your boyfriend would spend the entire time ridiculing the boy who didn’t seem all too bad.

Eddie knew how to push buttons, but he didn’t have a problematic energy to him.

Looking at him now, his eyes are just as wide as yours.

“Uh, that’s, uh, up to you,” Eddie clears his throat, shifting in his sneakers a bit, “I can be here tomorrow, we don’t have to do it together.”

He was giving you an out. Self-aware of the fact that you two didn’t belong hanging out with one another, or reading the fear on your expression, letting you make the decision.

You had a Jason. A Jason that caused Eddie a lot of problems. It made sense why he wouldn’t want to do the assignment with you, but the deepest piece of you wished he would’ve taken initiative and agreed with the second option Ms. O’Donnell gave you straight away.

It was wrong. There’s no way in hell you and Eddie would get along outside of these cinder block walls, he said the words himself, you live in two different worlds.

Your perfect, pristine way of life was no match for his lap of luxury.

But it was so, so, enticing.

Turning to Ms. O’Donnell, you give her a small smile and say, “We’ll figure it out, thank you,” and brush by Eddie to start for the door.

“Uh, thanks,” Eddie mumbles to your teacher, then scrambles after you. Ms. O’Donnell watches the exit with an eyebrow raised, the unlikely pair hurrying out of her classroom, one she would’ve never seen coming. Eddie Munson never thanked a teacher before in his life.

“Hey, wait, hey,” Eddie calls after you as he pushes past people in the hall.

“I can’t be late to my next class,” You mutter, peering behind you as he trips over his own foot, stumbling beside you, “You really can’t stay on your feet can you?”

“Nope,” Eddie sighs, “I wasn’t born with spacial awareness like you, okay Miss Perfect?”

“You gonna follow me all the way to English?” You question snarkily, side eyeing him.

“Mm,” Eddie hums, shoving his hands in his pockets, “Don’t think so, you're not the stalking type.”

Your jaw drops, “Excuse me?”

Eddie laughs, “You're predictable, that’s all.”

“I am not predictable,” You state, and watch Eddie weigh the possibilities, tilting his head side to side making his curls go astray, “I’m not!” Pausing your speed walk, you turn to face him, the other students parting around the two of you.

“You kinda are,” Eddie raises his eyebrows, speaking carefully, “I know exactly what you’re gonna do for the rest of the day, and no, it’s not weird, because I could stop any one of these soulless assholes and they’d be able to tell us the same thing.” He gestures to your surroundings, encouraging you to take a peek.

Taking a deep breath, you try to not let him get under your skin, that seems to be his aim of the game.

“Well, I’d rather be predictable than unreliable,” You sneer, looking him dead in the eyes, “I could also stop anyone of these soulless assholes and I’m sure, without a doubt, they’d tell us the same thing.” Narrowing your eyes, you're surprised to see a fire ignite in his. 

Wearing a crease in his brow, Eddie represses a smile. Your intent to hurt him, or bruise his ego, has only done the opposite. He’s impressed.

“Are we doing the assignment together, or not?” He asks, glued to your glare.

“That depends,” You deter, stepping closer to him, “If I’m so predictable, what do you think I’m going to say?”

Eddie’s smirk leaks onto his lips, “You want to say no,” He begins strong, and you can feel your defeat on the rise, “And you think I expect you to say no, but now, in this case of predictability and being worried you’re becoming a stereotype… You’re gonna say yes.”

A sharp inhale from you makes him laugh.

“Oh, and I think your panties are in a twist for two reasons. One, you have to tell your boyfriend where you’ll be, and he hates my guts, and two, I’ll be proving you wrong… Twice.”

Your cheeks warm, fueling your annoyance for the boy you have to look up to. At least Jason was nearly eye level, talking to Eddie this way made it all the more condescending.

“Did I get it?” He asks cockily, “Did I win?”

Gritting your teeth, you say, “Meet me in the middle school parking lot after the last bell. Then we’ll see if I’m the one who’s right.”

Storming away from the imperfectly alluring boy, you point your nose forward and hurry toward your next class.

“Good luck breaking the news to your boy toy!” Is called after you, spurring your feet on to move faster.

You wouldn’t see Jason until lunch. That gave you at least another two hours to come up with a convincing story as to why you’d be missing his party. Eddie’s name wouldn’t even be mentioned, it’d be a little white lie, something you were excellent at creating these days.

What you didn’t see coming was the uncountable times you’d have to come up with one because of Eddie, and it was only a quarter past eight in the morning.

thank you for reading, I hope you’ve enjoyed this piece! 

feedback is always greatly appreciated & is huge for artists. 

we also all love messages & the audience’s input, opinions, and ideas.

leave me some here! <3

& if you’d like to support my writing, buy me a coffee here! <3

[starryblueeyesandstarryblueskies]

Lie To Me | J.M.

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Reader

Summary: JJ being in love with his best friend at a party (that’s it)

A/N: Just a fluffy JJ blurb while for y’all while I work on writing an actual fic. Based on the This Could Be Us audio I keep seeing on tiktok

As I am an adult, all characters I write for are written as adults. Any minor characters will be aged up to the general range of their actor’s age.

Warnings: none?

Word Count: 323 (just a blurb)

-

“Hey J! Did you wa-”

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N!”

JJ comes rushing over to where you stand at the keg, filling your cup. You and the pogues are at the boneyard for the last kegger of the summer. You’ve all been there for about an hour, so at this point everyone has dispersed across the area, doing their own thing.

“Woah, what?” You ask him, getting a little annoyed when he grabs your shoulders, almost spilling your beer.

“My ex is coming this way. Pretend to flirt with me.”

You give him an incredulous look. “JJ, why would I be flirting with you? What would I even say?”

“Girl, improvise,” he looks over his shoulder, “Look me in my eyes and lie to me.”

“Wha-”

He cuts you off, getting desperate. “Lie to me. Act like I’ll believe anything.”

You see a blonde girl lock eyes on JJ and beeline towards the two of you . Fumbling a little, you say the first thing that pops into your head.

“Wanna go have sex on the beach, or in the back seat?” You trail your hand down his arm. “This could be us.”

When the girl notices the proximity between you and JJ, she turns away, eyes lingering at the spot where your fingers were intertwining with his.

You pull away as you see her leave, turning back toward the keg. “So back to what I was saying, did you want a refill?”

JJ just stands there, mouth agape.

“J?”

“Wha- oh, no I’m good.”

“Okay, I’m gonna go find Kie. See you in a bit!”

As you wander off, JJ feels an arm sling around his shoulder.

“You hear all that?”

“Yep,” John B replies, popping the p, “She just broke your brain, didn’t she.”

JJ responds with a slow nod. “Little bit.”

John B chuckles, dragging his best friend in your direction. “Come on, lover boy. Time to make a move.”

-

Writing masterlist

[thenightwinggraveyard]

😂 Actually, do you have cool Naruto fic recs for someone who's never seen the show? I keep itching to start it so I can understand some of my friends' interests better but I would just rather... read things. And I know that the fics might not be accurate to personalities or plot, but if you have anything beginner-friendly or fun that might help my brain get more excited to make the effort and watch, I'll take it. I personally like relationship drama but I'm cool with whatever you've got.

i do!!! i watched naruto as a kid but i completely forgot most things so i got into it again by fanfiction. also as a side note; i apologize but i don't read from narutos point of view very often if at all as that is just a personal preference of mine, just a warning in case thats what you were looking for-- and my favourite character is sakura which you'll probably see lmao 😅

without further ado, here are some;

BEGINNER FRIENDLY NARUTO RECS

Pray My Name by Chancy_Lurking [G] [ONE-SHOT]

"Your name sounds like the kind of thing you say when you’re afraid,” Sakura finishes.  “A prayer,” Sasuke offers without looking away from the window.  (Team 7 takes a quiet moment to talk about what their names feel like.)

notes: there isn't much of a plot with this one but its a wonderful showcase of the bond that team 7 shares/could share. it floats beside canon not really connected but it could be, and i think its just a great introduction to the way team 7 should be imo!!

tdlr; team 7-centric, friendship/love, acceptance

Terror feeds the Soul by Pleasedial123 [ONE-SHOT]

Sakura is not an idiot. She was praised for her intelligence, reached Top Kunoichi at the Academy for her brains.  So it doesn't take her long after being placed on the powder keg that is Team Seven to realize she is going to die.  Kakashi, career shinobi since age-six, has no idea what the hell is going on with his little pink-haired student or why there is such fear in her eyes. So he gives her head-pats. That's what you do for scared puppies isn't it?

notes: some really good characterization with this one and a deeper look at the subtle hint of corruption/injustice in the shinobi world that canon already gives us.

tdlr; sakura-centric, sakura & kakashi, good characterization, worldbuilding

Just Killing Time by Elizabeth Culmer (edenfalling) [G] [ONE-SHOT]

After Wave Country and before the chuunin exam, Team 7 kills time while waiting for Kakashi to show up.

notes: an adorable small fic consisting of freindship and the idea of found family, they're just cute little kids in this and it makes me smile so hard.

tdlr; team 7-centric, friendship, found family, fluff

An Improper Apology Properly Backfires by rex101111 [G] [ONE-SHOT]

Sasuke Uchiha apologizes, or at least makes an attempt. Sakura thinks he could do better than THAT.

notes: its not every day i find a sasusaku fic that i genuinly enjoy, but this one both cracked me up and actually convinced me that they could work as a couple lmao, after some bad canon events, this fic shows a completely done sakura dealing with the fallout and it is gold. featuring naruto and kakashi as unwilling bystanders.

tdlr; sasuke/sakura(canon ship) and team 7-centric, anger issues, canon compliant(mostly), humour

Wildflowers and Incisors by Chancy_Lurking [T] [ONE-SHOT]

There’s a boy Sakura loves the way Naruto loves Sakura, in a shameless and open, but painfully unequal way. There’s a boy Sakura loves the way Hinata loves Naruto, in a way that feels no more like a choice than breathing. Neither of those boys need pretty girls. “We are all really pretty, though,” Ino assures her with a haughty sniff, crossing her leg the other way so her calf rests on Sakura’s shin. “They’re going to be strong, maybe even the strongest ever in the Hidden Leaf,” Sakura says and Hinata doesn’t need convincing, they both know it, so she doesn’t belabor the point. “So, we have to be stronger than them.” (The girls of Konoha band together as friends. Girlhood is easier in a group.)

notes: a wonderful look at the kunoichis in naruto, with friendship for once more important than love. gives them the character development and attention they deserve, but didn't quite fully get in canon.

tdlr; naruto girls-centric, girlhood and friendship, good character development

The Language of Faces by Empatheia [T] [ONE-SHOT]

Ino decides to help Sai learn to function in society. Sai does his best to keep up.

notes: now we're taking the focus off the main characters of naruto to focus on some great side characters-- ino and sai are both charecterized awesomely in this fic. they're awkward and don't really know how to function in society (being a ninja will do that to you) but they clearly grow to care and love for eachother dearly.

tdlr; sai/ino-centric(canon ship), great characterization, awkward first dates

Pushy and Loud and Brave and Proud by bluecatcups [M] [ONE-SHOT]

When Temari meets Shikamaru, she is twelve years old and she is everything she has ever been; pushy and loud and brave and proud. This is the story of who Temari becomes.

notes: thanks to this fic i fell in love with temari as a character. it is a character study at its heart and therefore it has SUPERB characterization, with believable romance and a theme of self-love. i adore this fic.

tdlr; temari/shikimaru-centric(canon ship), character study, romance, found family, self-love (TW for smut and suicidal thoughts)

NOT SO CANON COMPLIANT FUN

coming from afar & reaching for the stars by SafelyCapricious [G] [ONE-SHOT]

It had been two weeks since the trial. Two weeks since Sasuke had been given the choice of surrendering his eyes and being allowed to leave, or being stuck for five years without ever being allowed to leave the village. He had chosen the later. And Sakura isn't avoiding him on purpose, but it's still happening and she's kind of okay with it.

notes: a not so romantic retelling of sasuke coming back to konoha. i really enjoy the way sakura is characterized in this and the way all her friendships are potrayed (especially her and sai they are besties). instead of running into sasukes open arms, she decides she doesn't mind keeping to herself.

tdlr; sakura-centric, friendships, good charecterization, awkwardness, self-love

Rules Were Made to Be Broken by MotivationIsDead [T] [COMPLETED]

Kakashi wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t hallucinating. Or suffering from heart failure. “I thought you were dead,” he said blankly. He might’ve been going into shock. Obito winced and rubbed the back of his head with a sheepish grin. “Yeah,” he said, tone stilted. “There’s actually quite the story behind that.” “I should hope so,” was Kakashi’s bland response.

notes: kakashi and obito if obito decided to not go through with his villainous plan. it is a ship, but the way the bond is potrayed just hits so good. something more than friendship and simple love and instead a deep trust, with banger characterization and development. a couple steps away from crack, i laughed so goddamn hard.

this entire fic can be summarized by;

kakashi and obito: fuck it we ball.

tdlr; kakashi/obito-centric(fanon ship), fix-it fic, humour, BAMF kakashi and obito (has an ongoing sequel!!)

Smiles in Spring by Kalira [T] [ONE-SHOT]

One spring day when they are very small, Ino meets a little girl with shy eyes, a beautiful smile, and pink hair, and immediately knows what she wants in her future. Ino's never had any qualms bending the force of her will on the universe to be sure she gets whatever she wants.

notes: ino and sakura are made for eachother in this fic and the progression of their relationship is adorable. some bonus friendship with shikamarau and choji.

tdlr; ino/sakura-centric(fanon ship), romance & friendship, fluff

Genuinely Delighted by Chancy_Lurking [T] [COMPLETED]

"Lee, in spite of how brash he might’ve seemed, still appeared to be incredibly considerate and Shino would feel wrong to just brush him off. His enthusiasm about asking Shino out was completely genuine, and that was enough to make Shino feel flattered. And anyway, Lee would probably prove to be much more pleasant company than some of the other guys Shino knew."

notes: just a fluffy post-canon fic about some more wonderful side characters, with romance and friendship. lee and shino are so unexpected but work so well in this fic.

tdlr; shino/rock lee-centric(fanon ship), romance & friendship, fluff

In The Forest by Senka Hitomi (LadyTegan) [T] [COMPLETED]

When the genius of Konoha returns from a mission in a catatonic state, it is up to his old teammate to delve into the depths of his mind and pull him back out. But the dangers of the mind are many, and the road to finding him may be more difficult than she could have imagined.

notes: god i could gush about this fic for so long. everything about it delights me, the characterizations, character development, relationships and just the careful way the plot was constructed. it comes together to form a very inrtiguing and engaging fic.

tdlr; shikimaru/ino-centric(fanon ship), romance & friendship, amazing plot, great characterization

On Qipao, Flirting, and Buying Drinks by needdl [M] [COMPLETED]

Tenten turned beautiful when she was nineteen.

notes: an if neji lived au done so well. the romance is both believable and beautiful.

tdlr; neji/tenten-centric(semi-canon ship), romance & friendship, fluff, coming of age (TW for smut)

About Face by wroth_and_ruin [T] [ONGOING]

A little yellow-haired boy saves Sakura from the bullies. And everything changes.

notes: one of my all time favourite fics it is full of character and life, and the friendship between sakura and naruto is so pure yet all-consuming. they are eachothers persons, eachothers sun, and the world that is being crafted is so engaging. featuring kakashi with teenage angst.

tdlr; naruto and sakura-centric, friendship, found family, fix-it fic, character and plot development, worldbuilding

HONOURARY MENTION

Retrograde Motion by Crunchysunrises [T] [ABANDONED]

From sixteen to eleven didn't feel like a big jump until she realized that she was now the best ninja in their class. And that tiny Sasuke hates her for it.

notes: the reason this is an honourary mention is because this is the fic that got me into naruto! the first one i read, and the first one that captivated me to read all 100k words (yikes..). so despite the fact that its abandoned im still gonna share it with you in case it interests you ;)

tdlr; time-travel, sakura-centric, great characterization, shit gets done

(i didn't even realize so many of my fav fics were done by chancy_lurking!!! huge shoutout to them they are awesome)

i have some more but i think i'll leave it at this; i hope you find at least one fic that enraptures you!!

[omgrachwrites]

Just Friends? - Dalton Lambert

Pairing: Dalton Lambert x Reader

Warnings: fluff, adorable drunk!Dalton

Prompt: 'You're so warm.'

A/N: Aaaah! My first fic for my 2k writing celebration, thank you so much @fluentmoviequoter for requesting, I hope you enjoy! If you guys want to request anything just drop me an ask or a message! Hope you guys all enjoy this, I love you all very much! xxx

There was comfortable silence in Dalton’s dorm room as he worked on an Art project and you were working on your English assignment. You loved the fact that you felt so comfortable with each other that you were able to do this. You glanced up at Dalton, who looked so cute with his brow furrowed, the tip of his tongue sticking out slightly as his hand moved across his sketchbook.

He must have felt you looking because he looked up at you, his cheeks flushing, “what’s up?”

“Please, come to the party with me,” you whined.

Dalton sighed and glanced down at his sketchbook before he looked back up at you, “Y/N,” he groaned, “I really have no interest in going to another party surrounded by frat boys and their stupid girlfriends.”

You huffed and flopped back dramatically on the spare bed you were sitting on, “fine.”

Dalton laughed at how dramatic you were, “are you going to have a little temper tantrum if I don’t take you to the party?” he teased.

You turn your head to face him, “will it change your mind if I do?”

He shook his head fondly as he began sketching again, “sorry, but no.”

You pouted, “but I think it’ll do you some good to get out of the dorm though. And, besides, you closed the door so there won’t be any dead guys lurking in any bathrooms,” you joked.

Dalton thought about it for a second and you could practically see the cogs turning in his head, “fine,” he sighs, “but if the party sucks, I’m blaming you.”

“Woo! You’re the best!” you grin as you sit up.

“I know, I know,” he smirked, “I am pretty great.”

You laughed, “you’re oh so humble too.”

The two of you quickly finished your work and agreed to meet back at Dalton’s dorm around 7pm. You had a hard time deciding on what to wear, you didn’t want to make it seem like you were trying too hard, after all it was a casual night with your best friend. God, you were such a cliché, having feelings for your best friend. You pushed the thoughts out of your head as you finally decided on an outfit and quickly got ready before heading to Dalton’s dorm.

“Hey,” he greeted you with a grin as he stepped out to lock the door to his room, “you look good.”

“Thanks,” you flushed, “so do you.”

He said nothing but ducked his head to hide the smile on his face. You both walked out into the cold night air to start the short walk to the frat house. You were meeting Chris there as she was going with some of her other friends.

Dalton shoved his hands in his pockets as he glanced at you, “so why are you so excited to go to this party? Are you meeting up with someone?” his voice was weird as he asked you that last part.

You scoffed at his words, “no, I just think it’d be good to get out and you need to loosen up and get drunk.”

Dalton laughed, “I’m not sure I like getting drunk.”

“Well,” you start, “if you do end up getting drunk I’ll look after you.”

“Really?” he asked as he glanced at you.

“Of course, I’m destined to look after the slightly awkward, cute art student,” you joke.

Dalton flushed as he kept his eyes on your face, blinking rapidly, “you think I’m cute?”

“I do think you’re cute,” you grin, “surely, you hear it all the time?”

He shook his head, “I’m not used to getting compliments, especially off pretty women,” he grinned at you as he ran a hand through his hair.

Now it was your turn to go red, “you think I’m pretty?”

“I think you’re beautiful,” he corrected himself with a grin as you walked into the frat house together and you smiled as warmth filled your chest.

The frat house was very generic, there were flashing lights and sweaty bodies pressed up together as they danced. There were people doing keg stands and people playing beer pong in the centre. You met Chris by the drinks table and she waved with a grin as you approached.

Dalton touched your shoulder as he gestured to the drinks table, “do you want wine, beer, or whatever that is?” he pointed at the solo cup, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

You laughed, “I think beer is the safest option,” it was the only alcohol on the table that was in a sealed bottle. Dalton nodded in agreement as he grabbed two bottles, cracking them both open and handing one to you.

The both of you hung out at the side-lines of the party, people watching while Chris was upstairs, looking for stuff in vacant rooms. Now that you were here, you were starting to feel a little overwhelmed. Dalton looked increasingly more uncomfortable as you drained your beer and went to grab two more, you felt guilty for dragging him here.

You touched his wrist to get his attention over the loud music, “you want to go outside?” you spoke in his ear, smiling when he nodded his head, relief spreading out across his face.

You took his hand and the both of you walked outside to the pool area. It was quieter out here, there was a lot less people. The both you sat on one of the sun loungers, so close together that your knees touched and you didn’t have to shout to hear each other. There was a drinks table out here too and the two of you made your way through it as you talked about everything and anything, feeling more and more buzzed.

Dalton looked so handsome in a white button down that brought out the blue of his eyes and his long wavy hair was loose. His eyes looked so pretty beneath the lighting of the pool that you looked away from his face as you spoke, “I’m really sorry for dragging you here, it seemed like it would be better in my head.”

Dalton laughed lightly as he linked his fingers through yours, making you look back at him, “don’t apologise, I like the fact I’m here with you,” you smiled as you squeezed his hand in response.

Chris came out to join you, showing you the things she had snagged from the bedrooms upstairs and between the three of you – and the few other people outside – you drank through all the beer on the table outside. None of you would touch the wine or whatever was in the solo cup. You offered to head back into the frat house to grab more drinks. You snagged three bottles of beer and as you were about to head back outside you saw Chris watching something with a look of disbelief on her face.

“What’s wrong?” you asked here as you passed her a bottle of beer.

She pointed, “Dalton is doing a keg stand, he must have been more drunk than we thought,” she laughed.

You watched as Dalton was lowered back to the ground, beer spilling down his front with a grin on his face as the boys around him cheered. He noticed you and called your name excitedly as he held out his arms as he walked over you to give you a hug.

His grin dropped as he pulled away from the hug and he clutched his stomach, looking at you, his eyes wide like a little boy’s, “I don’t feel good,” he mumbled and you had to fight back a laugh.

“C’mon, I’ll take you home,” you rubbed his back and he nodded, you glanced back at Chris, “I’ll text you when I’m back,” you smiled, knowing that she was staying with her friends.

She nodded, “make sure he doesn’t choke on throw up,” she laughed.

It was pretty difficult getting Dalton home when he didn’t contribute much, his feet dragged against the floor and it took twice as long to get back to the dorms. As you got back to his dorm you got some clean clothes from the drawer and handed them to him, turning around so he could change. He snuggled into his bed and you sat at the edge, stroking his hair from his flushed face, passing him a water bottle you got from his mini fridge.

“Do you feel okay?” you asked, “are you going to be sick?”

He shook his head, “no, not gonna be sick,” he slurred his words and he looked up at you with wide eyes, “will you stay and cuddle with me?” he asked, pulling the covers back and scooching back against the wall.

You couldn’t deny him, especially when he looked at you like that, you grinned and got into bed with him, wrapping your arms around him, he leaned his head on your chest, his soft breath blowing against your neck, “you’re so warm,” he mumbled as you stroked his hair.

He was silent for a couple of moments before he spoke again, “can I tell you something?”

“Of course.”

“You can’t tell, Y/N though, you have to promise,” he yawned and you fought back a laugh, he was obviously so far gone.

“I promise,” you laugh.

“I have the biggest crush on, Y/N,” he said simply and you stared at him, feeling a happy bubble rise in your chest, “but I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”

“I don’t think it’ll ruin your friendship,” you whisper, “you should tell her, she might feel the same,” you pressed a kiss against his forehead, speaking against his skin.

“Hmm maybe.”

He was silent for a couple of moments, and you spoke up again, “Dalton?”

He didn’t answer but the slow pace of his breathing told you he was asleep and you grinned as you held him tighter before succumbing to sleep yourself.

[landos-meat-rider]

1999, part one

ok. this is my very first fic and the first time ive done any creative writing that isnt for a gcse english writing exam. this is part one of a mini series called "1999" (inspired by beabadoobee's song). im literally making it up as i go😍🙏.

please lmk what you think: should i scrap it or keep going? anything i should change?

and maybe repost if you feel extra generous :))

warnings: none!

conrad fisher masterlist

masterlist

     ༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝

Summer had always been a time Belly, Steven and I had looked forward to. Sure Christmas and Easter were beautiful and memorable, but there was something about spending our summer at Cousins Beach. We'd been doing it ever since we can remember. For a whole three months, the Conklins and the Fishers did everything together. It was like while the rest of our year was shit, summer was always there to turn it around. We watched fireworks together, surfed, barbequed, and pulled all-nighters out in the backyard in tents pretending we were far away from our parents in some other country when in reality they were only a few feet away drinking wine and talking. We spent every waking hour together for those three months. And now that we’re all older, we party together.

After Belly and I turned sixteen we started seeing the boys in a different light. It was like they were the same boys we’ve known all our lives but somehow different. 

Steven would make fun of us for what seemed like years on the car ride to Cousins whenever he heard us giggling and whispering about how Belly and Jeremiah were destined to be since he posted a reel with her favourite song (he can't even remember her favourite colour for the life of him). But whenever she’d ask me about Conrad I’d shake my head and blush trying to convince her I didn’t like him like that.

Conrad was…complicated. He was gorgeous and tall and perfect and way out of my league. Hell, he probably saw me as a sister to him and nothing more. I had seen him go through girls year after next and had slowly started to lose hope of there being an ‘us’ anyway.

My thoughts get interrupted by yet another loud sigh by Steven. I swear if I don't end up strangling him by the time we get there…

“I’m boredddd”, Steven sighs.

“Steven that's your tenth consecutive ‘I’m bored’  in a row, can’t you think of anything else to say?” Belly all but yells at him.

He lets out another sigh before I wack the side of his head from the backseat.

“Hey!” he yells out trying to get me back from the passenger seat while Belly laughs and starts recording the moment on her phone.

“Alright, kids can we dial down on the domestic abuse, please? I’d like to go at least a few hours before having to swallow another paracetamol from your headaches.”, Mom says obviously getting fed up with us.

Instead of arguing back I try and shut Steven up by asking him questions.

“So Stevie,” I start, giggling as he annoyingly groans at the nickname Belly, Taylor and I made up for him, “what are you…most excited for this summer?” I ask making up the question off the top of my head.

Steven thinks for a minute before answering, “Surfing for sure.” He nods.

“Drinking wine with Susannah.”, says Mom smiling at the thought of her best friend.

“Fourth of July.”, says Belly.

“You sure you’re not most excited to see Jere?” I nudge her with my elbow as she squeals and looks away.

“What about you honey, what are you most excited for?” Mom asks, looking at me through her rearview mirror.

“The bonfire.” I say, smiling.

I’ve always loved the bonfire. Everything about it, it's always such a vibe. The kegs, the fire, the songs, the smores. It's always been my favourite part of the summer.

Until this summer, when I brought my boyfriend to Cousins.

༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝

“You guys ready for the bonfire, should we go down?” Conrad asks as he enters the living room. I look up at him from my position with Belly on the couch. God, I’d forgotten how pretty he was.

Conrad comes behind the couch and wraps his arms around my neck giving me a slight hug before pulling away, “I missed you.” he says looking down at me.

Before I can reply Steven speaks up, “Aw Connie, no worries man I’m here now,” he says smiling enthusiastically as he pulls Conrad towards the door by his shoulders while everyone laughs at his misunderstanding.

Conrad looks at me expectantly and takes out a small box from his pocket.

“Let's go, man,” Steven says to Conrad before pulling on him again, “I wanna show you this really cool trick I learned the other day…” He drones on as Conrad’s eyebrows furrow and he looks back at me, “Aren’t you coming?” he asks pointing at me questioningly.

I give him a sad smile before responding, “I’ll join you guys later, I’m gonna wait here for Dean he should be here soon.”

Just when I thought they couldn’t, Conrad’s eyebrows furrowed deeper.

“Who’s Dean?”

“Oh didn’t we tell you?,” Belly responds, “Y/n has a boyfriend.”

Conrad and Jeremiah’s faces were a sight to see. Eyes wide, mouths agape and eyebrows straight up, staring at me as if I had told them I got my eyeballs tattooed.

“Okay, you don't have to be that surprised…ouch.” I wince.

Conrad and Jeremiah straighten up and Jeremiah looks at me and smiles before saying, “No, no that’s…uhm that’s great Y/n.” He looks at Conrad halfway through his sentence as Conrad looks down at his feet and puts the box he was holding, in his pocket before turning to Steven and talking to him about setting the keg up for the bonfire and walking out the door without sparing a glance to me.

“That was weird.” I say to Belly as she leans in to give me a hug,

“Totally. What’s his deal?” she responds.

“Beats me.” I shrug before yelling “Have fun! Use protection!” out behind her and Jeremiah before Belly turns her head around and flips me off which just makes me and Jeremiah laugh harder.

I sigh and turn the tv on. With Mom, Susanna and everyone going out, I was the only one left to wait for Dean. I wonder how long he’ll be, I can’t wait to go to the bonfire. Luckily I got a text from him just as I decided on watching Gilmore Girls.

'hey, i'll be there in five :)'

whew that’s part one done! here’s part two!!

1999, part two

[wheels-of-despair]

Can You Feel It? Pairing: Ex!Billy Hargrove x You x Unimportant Jock Event: A Very @corroded-hellfire Valentine's Day Summary: Billy fucked around. Now he's gonna find out. Contains: Heartbreak, spite, sex, Billy Hargrove Is His Own Warning. Song: You Oughta Know by Alanis Morissette Words: 1.4k

Minors and ageless blogs who interact with this fic will be blocked.

And every time I scratch my nails down someone else's back I hope you feel it Well, can you feel it?

You hate Billy Fucking Hargrove.

You hate his stupid hair and his dumb earring and his loud-ass car and you especially hate the fact that you found him with some skank's tongue down his throat at Tommy Hagan's party last weekend, just hours after he told you that he loved you.

You didn't make a scene. You didn't key his car or slash his tires or even let him know you'd decided to come after all.

You just went home and cried.

You cried until you got angry.

It boiled over Monday morning in the Hawkins High parking lot. You were separated by staff who threatened to call your parents and told you both to stay far away from each other. You were happy to comply. He was as good as dead to you.

For a few days.

The following Thursday in the cafeteria, when he winked at you while that slut sat in his lap, you rose up out of your chair to go murder them both... when Ashley M. stepped into your path and caught you off-guard by shoving a flyer in your hand.

You read it - keg party, this weekend, no parents - and a new plan began to form in your jilted brain.

You went all out. Teased your hair. Applied make-up that would make Cyndi Lauper proud. Wore that top that makes your tits look phenomenal and a tiny skirt that your parents didn't know you owned and the painful shoes that Billy called "Fuck-Me Heels."

Boys were drooling the minute you casually strolled into Ashley M's front door half an hour late.

You located him in seconds. He sat on the kitchen counter, staring. You'll give him something to fucking stare at.

You looked to the right and made eye contact with the first idiot who'd crowded around you, vying for your attention. According to his letterman jacket, his name was Spencer. He'd do.

It was almost too easy. One dazzling smile and a dance with a little too much touching, and he was practically dragging you down the hallway. Easy, Sparky, don't forget who's running this show.

He tries two doors before finding an empty room. A bathroom. Good enough.

He closes the door and locks it and shoves you against the back of it and tries to worm his tongue down your throat. No technique. Not at all like Billy.

Right. Billy. That's why you're here. You palm Sparky's comically small package with one hand and subtly reach behind you to unlock the door with the other. You push the meathead away, approach the sink on the opposite side of the room, and hop on. It faces the door. Perfect. You want to see the look on his face when he inevitably storms in and throws a fit.

Sparky sheds his jacket - stopping to hang it carefully on a towel hook, lest his precious jock gear get a wrinkle in it - and stands between your knees. He leans forward and begins to maul your neck. His hands find your tits and grab at them like it's his very first time. You distract him by peeling his shirt off, "accidentally" tangling it around his head to stall him. When he gets free and tries to resume his frantic fondling, you move his hands to your ass and watch the door boredly.

"You're so hot," Sparky moans, squeezing your ass with both hands. You roll your eyes. Hurry up, Hargrove.

You wait patiently until the bathroom door crashes open. It sends a jolt through your entire body, like you've been struck by lightning. Billy Hargrove stands in the doorway, eyes blazing and shoulders squared. The doorknob left a dent in the wall behind it. What did he do, kick it open? It wasn't locked, you fucking moron.

Sparky turns around at the sound. "Hey man, you mind? We're kinda busy here."

You grab Sparky by his bare shoulders and jerk him back to you. His face collides with the side of your neck, and he resumes his disgusting slurping like Billy isn't standing just a few feet away, ready to kill him. You stare coldly at the asshole in the doorway while you scratch your nails down Sparky's back. A move that was guaranteed to make Billy go feral, every fucking time.

Can you feel that, Hargrove?

"Ow! Shit!"

Sparky backs away from you and your claws, and Billy steps forward to catch him. Billy grabs him by the scruff of the neck and hauls him into the hallway, bouncing his face off the wall a few times before shoving him to the floor.

Now it's your turn.

Billy steps over Sparky's body and into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. He locks it, and before you can marvel at the fact that the lock mechanism still works, he's on you. Hand on your throat. Your head smacks against with the mirror behind you.

"What the fuck was that?"

"What's it to you? You don't want me anymore, remember?"

Fire blazes in his eyes, and his grip tightens.

You stare calmly into his furious face.

Why the fuck did you miss him? He made you mad almost every day. You fought all the time. He was moody, and difficult, and snarky, and let's not forget the fact that he's a liar and a cheater and an all-around dickhead who broke your fucking heart.

You'd give anything for him to love you the way you love him.

In the blink of an eye, Billy's hand moves from your throat to the back of your neck, and his mouth is on yours. Your brain quiets, and your body buzzes, and being close to him is the only thing that matters.

His massive hands drift down to your breasts, squeezing with just the right amount of pressure. You moan into his mouth, and his hands keep traveling south. You open your legs for him, and he doesn't waste any time slipping under your skirt and past your barely-there panties and dipping a finger into your center.

Feeling how wet you are brings him back to the reality of the situation. He extracts his hand, wipes it on your thigh, and glares.

"That douchebag get you this worked up?"

"That limp-dicked dumbass couldn't work a calculator."

Billy snorts, and you smile. God, you missed this.

"Who'd you wear those Fuck Me Heels for, then?"

"Who do you think, asshole?"

He smirks in a way that makes you want to smack it off his face. Instead, you hook your leg around him and pull him closer. Billy grabs your ass and jerks you to the edge of the counter, so you can feel his stiff member pressing into your heat. You need him so fucking bad.

His assault on your mouth begins again, and you wrap your arms around him and cling to his back. He rocks into you, and the friction from his jeans is almost enough to finish you off.

"Billy," you breathe. "Need you."

"I should make you beg," he taunts, slowly dragging the double-stitched denim of his fly upward and surprising you with a sudden jerk of his hips. You claw at his jacket and puff out a breath of air. You're not fucking begging. You try to grind your hips against him, but he reaches down to hold them still. You respond by lurching forward and biting his neck.

Billy responds with a slap to your ass. He pulls back, and you glare up at him, chest heaving. You're not fucking begging.

"Fuck it," he grumbles, reaching for his belt buckle. He unbuckles unzips, and slams into you in seconds.

Fuck, you missed this.

Billy begins to thrust hard and fast, eyes on yours. When you begin to approach your peak, you close your eyes and lean your head back. He grabs your jaw and makes you look at him. He wants to watch it happen. He needs to see what he does to you.

You come together, with grunts and moans, collapsing against each other in a panting heap. You fall back against the mirror, and he leans with you. His head rests on your shoulder. Breathing ragged. Bones weak. Brains foggy. Nobody makes you fall apart like he does.

"I love you," is what you want to tell him.

"I know," is probably what he would say before he smirked his dumb little smirk and zipped up those tight jeans that fit him just right and left your stupid ass in a puddle of your own tears again.

You wish you could hate Billy Fucking Hargrove.

[water-loos]

Daylight

“ I once believed love would be black and white, but it’s golden ”

jj maybank x fem!kook!reader

wc: 2.1k

cw: friends to lovers, fluffy, alcohol mentions, no use of y/n

author’s note: hi! this is my first time posting a fic on tumblr and writing an x reader fic so PLEASE bear with me!! this is mostly me testing the waters with this platform bc i’m normally a wattpad and ao3 type of person! enjoy this fluff though :)

It was cool for late June, a crisp 57 by the time Eleven P.M. rolled around. Your arms had long been covered in goosebumps in contrast to the warmth that hung in your chest and cheeks from the dozens of watered-down solo cups you’d downed in the hours prior, many opponents that you had challenged in chugging competitions having brought you more and more beer to host rematches. It was yet another glorious night at the Boneyard, surrounded by Kooks and Pogues alike, with even a few Tourons hanging around the outskirts of the driftwood that laid around the beach. It was beautiful and chaotic. There were no expectations, and labels held little weight here.

It was right where you wanted to be.

What you didn’t want, however, was to continue to catch the eyes of the island’s resident troublemaker. It had been happening since you absolutely demolished John Booker Routledge, one of your close friends, in a shotgunning contest with the few canned beers that had been brought with you that night, demolishing his ego. JJ Maybank, all deep blue eyes and sandy hair falling into his face, had been sneaking glances at you ever since you had wiped the foamy liquid off of your lips with the pad of your thumb. It was making your skin crawl.

You couldn’t tell if your skin was crawling in a bad way, like you couldn’t get the intense weight of his eyes off of your shoulders, or in a good way, like you enjoyed having him overanalyzing your every move, studying the way your skin shone in the crescent moonlight. The alcohol-fueled mess that was your brain wanted to go over to him and ask outright, maybe even figure out why he’d been more interested in talking to you alone recently, or why he had suddenly made it a point to tap the side of your thigh when he walked past you in greeting. Your common sense, however, was screaming from the deepest corner of your head to leave it alone, because that’s just how he is. It could become an embarrassing situation and you’d be out a friend.

Instead of dwelling on it more, you quietly exited a conversation with Topper Thornton and whatever his girl of the week’s name was and all of her friends in favor of crossing the beach toward the keg. Pope, who looked exhausted and like he wanted to fall asleep next to the keg, smiled weakly as you walked up, hands holding onto your biceps in an attempt to maintain some body heat. “You back for another one?”

“Yeah. Gotta warm up somehow,” Your joke was stupid enough to make you cringe, but the sentiment was warm enough to make the boy before you smile. “How’s your night going? You look like you want to be anywhere else but here.”

“Eh. Just not feeling it tonight, I guess,” He shrugged, handing you back the cup you had given him to fill. “We had a late night. Kickback at the Chât, early morning clean up, then work, then surfing. Wiped me clean out.”

“Jesus. Sounds like a doozy,” You whistled, your spine shivering. “Well, I’m glad I got to see you. My family’s in town and I’ve been so held up that I haven’t gotten a chance to come down by you guys at all. I miss it.”

“We miss you too,” His eye contact wavered for a split second to right over your shoulder. “Some more than others.”

Your posture straightened immediately at the realization that JJ was most definitely behind you, and he was definitely staring. Again. It made your chest squeeze slightly, prompting you to take a swig of the beer in your hand. “Is something up with him? I feel like he’s been acting different lately.”

“Mhm. There’s definitely something up,” Pope’s voice became high-pitched all of a sudden, a smile jumping to his face. “You should go talk to him about it. He won’t tell us anything, maybe he’ll talk to you.”

“You know! Oh my god, you know what’s bothering him,” You clocked him immediately, gaze narrowing as a blush crept up your neck. “Just tell me what he told you!”

“Can’t tell you what I don’t know,” He shrugged. “Sorry.”

“You suck. Actually,” You deadpanned, downing the rest of the beer and handing him your cup, inhibitions thrown out of the proverbial window. “Hold this. Don’t lose it.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Asshole,” You huffed, no real animosity behind your words as you pivoted on the toe of your platform converse, the rubber bottom digging into the sand. JJ wasn’t far at all, only a few feet away on a fallen log. His gaze hadn’t faltered when you turned around, his smile warm as you walked toward him.

“Hey, pretty,” He quipped, looking up at you. His eyes sparkled in the dim light, his crooked smile almost glinting. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Do you think there’s any spare sweatshirts or anything in the Twinkie?” You asked, coming up with an excuse to one, get him alone, and two, steal the marina crewneck that you know he kept in the van. He took it off after every shift, put it right on the back bench, and left it for the night before he had to bring it in to wash the next day. “I’m freezing.”

“I’m sure there’s something,” He shrugged like he didn’t just eavesdrop on your entire conversation with Pope. “Check the back, maybe?”

“Can you walk with me? I don’t want to go all the way to the parking lot alone,” You put in extra effort to sound as innocent about the whole ordeal as possible, knowing that your mouth was seconds away from that last beer beginning to weigh on your senses and finally shutting off your common sense. “Plus, I need to get away for a second, I think. Clear my head.”

“Clear your head?” He cocked his head to the side before rising to his feet, much like a puppy. He mirrored your feigned innocence with ease. “Well, since you asked so nicely…”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” You huffed out a quiet laugh, leading the two of you forward. It was quiet until the beach started turning into decaying wood planks and whispers of dried-out grass beneath your feet, the parking lot within view. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure. Ask away, sunshine,” He answered quicker than you assumed he would, the pet name that rolled off his tongue making your cheek and ears warm.

“If I ask, will you answer honestly?” You wheeled around, giving him a pointed look as you walked backward. “I won’t ask if you don’t answer honestly.”

“Scouts honor,” He saluted, his boyish smile bright enough to settle the rattling in your chest. “I promise.”

“Why have you been so different around me lately?” You turned back to face ahead, voice loud enough for him to still be able to hear you from his spot a few paces behind. “Not in like, a bad way. Just different.”

“What do you mean?” He asked as the two of you reached the Twinkie, the brown vehicle standing before you in all of its run-down glory.

You easily pull open the back door once JJ unlocks it, sliding the back open and revealing the cozy and disorganized interior. The sweatshirt you knew would be inside sat in all of its glory on the back bench, waiting for you. “This. Why do you always leave this here?”

“Why do you think I leave it on the bench?” He followed you as you climbed inside, your knees digging into metal grooves where the floor panels met. He leaned against the doorway as you grabbed the sweatshirt in question, gray fabric with a few tiny holes in the collar clutched in your hands.

“JJ,” You sighed pointedly, sitting back on your feet and glaring at him. “You know exactly what I’m getting at. Stop beating around the bush.”

“Then why are you asking?”

The question made you grow still, fabric pulled half over your head and your heart stuttering in your chest. You stayed like that for a moment before fully pulling on the sweatshirt, hair now a little wild and out of place. “Why do you leave it for me? You never offer it to Kie o-or Sarah—”

“Because I don’t want them wearing it. I’d much rather see you wear it,” He poked at the top of your thigh from where you kneeled beside him, looking up at him. “It looks best on you.”

“And that! You do that all the time now and you were staring and you always want to just talk to me and not everyone else,” You blurted, frustrated with how the subject was continually danced around. “I mean, It’s not like I don’t like you doing all of that stuff, but I don’t get why. I can’t read you.”

“Sweetheart,” He started, breath catching in his throat. You could tell he was nervous, his fingers pulling at his rings and spinning them quietly. “I didn’t know you noticed all of that.”

“Of course I did. I pay too much attention to you for me to not notice things,” It was your turn to grow bashful, eyes looking down at your own hands. “Like a little too much. I’ve tried to ignore the fact that I think about you as much as I do, you know.”

“You think about me?” You could see him lift his head in your peripheral, your own eyes lifting to catch the boyish smile on his lips. Your heart soared at the sight. “I’m flattered, sweetheart. Honored, actually.”

You shove at his arm, with no animosity behind your actions. In fact, you laugh softly as you do so, cheeks warm as you begin to grin shyly. “Shut up, asshole.”

“The sentiment is mutual, don’t worry,” He says instead of continuing the teasing, his pointer finger poking your leg again. “I wouldn’t stare at you, or talk to you, or want to be around you as much as I want to be if I didn’t.”

“Really?” Your eyes widen ever so slightly, your chest blooming with hope. “You think about me?”

“Too much for my own good,” He nods, reaching for one of your hands. Linking your pinkies, he lets them hang between the two of you. “For months now.”

“Wow. I must be blind, then,” You huff out a breath of air. “Sarah’s been listening to my bullshit for that long when you’ve been feeling the same way the whole time.”

“I wasn’t really forward about anything until recently, actually,” His pinkie squeezed yours, inviting you to echo the squeeze. You oblige immediately. “I was a little scared. Very unlike me. Risked ruining my entire reputation.”

You laughed louder at that, your free hand coming up to cover your mouth. “Your reputation?”

“Yeah. Couldn’t be caught crushing like an idiot over the prettiest girl on the whole damn island, could I?” He flirted easily, his fingers moving to fully intertwine with yours as you finally moved closer, your legs unfurling from beneath you to hang over the edge of the Twinkie’s floor. It was quiet for a moment, both of you just silently looking at your joined hands. “I really like you. I wish I’d told you earlier, man. Could’ve had all of this a lot sooner.”

“Me too,” You echoed, turning to look at him again, your faces much closer now. “But we’ve got this now, right?”

He hummed a quiet agreement, eyes drifting down to your lips for a split second, making your heart begin to race. “Can I ask you a crazy question?”

“Always.”

“Can I kiss you?” He asked, voice softer than you’d ever heard him speak. It warmed your entire body immediately, butterflies and electric nerves lighting your body with anticipation. You nodded, a tiny confirmation.

He leaned in first, and you met him halfway, lips meeting in a kiss that tasted like sunsets, drives with the windows down, the salty air around you, and summer. It was perfect, enough to make your heart beat in your ears, the prospect of what you two could make of your newfound feelings.

You couldn’t tell who pulled back first, but there wasn’t much distance put between you when your lips parted, your foreheads pressed together.

“That was perfect,” You murmured, a little stunned and butterflies at an all-time high.

“You’re perfect,” He replied simply, hand reaching up to your face and pulling you back in for another kiss, sealing your fate.

[steddieas-shegoes]

Another request idea! I was listening to What a Time To Be Alive by Fall Out Boy and the line "But, baby, please, I just need someone to hold me Even though you don't even know me" struck me as a particularly good steddie prompt. Maybe some hurt/comfort? Thanks for even reading this request!

Full disclosure: I never got really into FOB. I mean obviously love their classics. Anything that was on the radio I liked it just fine. But I did have to go listen and look up the lyrics for this one because just that line had me going feral with an idea. I've read a few fics where Steve and Eddie meet at a party, which honestly makes a lot of sense canonically. Eddie has the goods, parties need the goods, Steve threw a lot of parties. This is a slightly different take on that premise. It's a LOT of hurt, and a LOT of comfort. Steve is kind of pitiful actually, and I love that for him. Eddie's super into it too. Also tagged it light dom/sub because of nonsexual type things that happen while Eddie is comforting Steve. To me, since they didn't have a discussion about it and aren't in a relationship, it could just be seen as one dude kind of being a little pushy when taking care of another dude, but that tag doesn't exist so here we are. I hope this gets posted in time for you to cry in the school pick up line! - Mickala ❤️

---------------------------------------------------------

Steve should not have come to this party. Tommy always threw a huge one at the end of the year, right when his parents left for their anniversary vacation, and Steve always came.

But this year was the first year he hadn’t been invited by Tommy.

He really hadn’t been invited at all, but it was just common knowledge that it was happening here and now, so here he was.

No more crown, hanging onto his sanity by a thread, and his only friends were barely 13 years old.

Being a wallflower was a new thing for him.

He watches from the corner of the kitchen, sees the people he used to call friends getting drunk, getting high, dancing. It doesn’t seem fun anymore.

He’s glad that’s not him anymore.

So why does he feel like crying?

He holds it in, takes small sips of his beer, focusing on the bitter taste. He didn’t even like beer. Just drank it to maintain the King of Keg Stands crown

As the night drags on, it sinks in that he just doesn’t fit in this world anymore. It wasn’t made for him, he wasn’t made for it.

He didn’t really fit anywhere.

He choked back a sob, rushing out the back door of the house and down to the pond that Tommy and his dad fished out of.

No one ever went out here, too worried about bugs or snakes, but Steve couldn’t find it in himself to care right now.

His legs gave out when he reached the dock, his body sinking down to the wood below him as he felt tears fall down his face.

It wasn’t a panic attack, he’d had plenty of those, made it through plenty of them on his own. This was just sadness.

He was alone out here, not even the noise of the party to keep him company.

He was alone everywhere, really.

Sure, he had the kids. But they were kids. They hung out with him because he protected them, not because they thought of him as a friend.

His parents hadn’t been home in nearly six months, hadn’t called in two, didn’t even seem interested in the fact that he was graduating high school.

Nancy didn’t give him the time of day, nor should she after everything that happened.

The friends he grew up with, the friends he thought would be there for him, ended up being terrible.

“Shit, Harrington? Is that you?”

Steve sniffed.

He couldn’t be found like this, his reputation would suffer even more, somehow.

He wiped his eyes quickly, hoping that it was dark enough the other person wouldn’t see the movement.

“Uh, yep,” Steve managed to say after a deep breath, surprised that his voice didn’t sound as wrecked as he felt.

He turned around and saw Eddie Munson walking up the dock.

Everyone knew Eddie only got invited to these parties because he sold weed. Eddie himself only came to the parties because he knew he could make a killing just for showing up for an hour or two.

The only times he’d ever spoken to Eddie were to make sure he showed up for his own parties, offering him a tip of $20 just to come well-stocked.

He always came, never accepted the tip, and usually left a rolled joint in Steve’s room at the end of the party.

He didn’t think he did that for everyone, but he was too scared that it would stop if he asked.

“What are you doing out here?”

“Just felt like fishing,” Steve responded, slapping his hand against his face as soon as he said it.

“With your bare hands in the dark?” Eddie snorted. “I will give you free weed for a year if you can manage to do that right now.”

Steve cracked a small smile.

“Make it free weed for life and I may consider hopping in and giving it a try.”

Eddie’s laugh filled the night, loud and full of life. Something Steve needed to hear.

But Eddie sobered quickly, watching as Steve looked down at his lap.

“Needed a break from the party?”

“Guess so.”

“It didn’t seem like you were doing much in there.”

Steve just shrugged, not sure how to explain without crying again.

But apparently Eddie wasn’t going to let him get away with that.

“Heard about you and Nancy, man. Sorry it didn’t work out,” Eddie said, nudging his shoulder with his hand.

He was really close, close enough for Steve to feel the warmth radiating from his body. It was that awkward time between spring and summer, and the night was warm, but it still felt nice.

He hadn’t had someone so close to him on purpose in a long time. Maybe if he scooted an inch to the left, he would brush against Eddie’s hand just right and-

“Shit, you’re crying again,” Eddie said.

His hand was suddenly on Steve’s shoulder, and Steve shivered at the contact.

He closed his eyes and realized that, yes, he was crying again.

Dammit.

Warm, strong arms were wrapping around him, pulling him tight against an equally warm, strong chest.

He let out a sob, his chest hurting with the effort it took to hold in as much noise as he could.

A hand was in his hair, fingers carefully running through the length of it.

“It’s alright, sweetheart. Let it out. I got ya,” Eddie was saying quietly against the top of his head, his breath sending shivers down Steve’s spine.

Steve couldn’t catch his breath. The way Eddie was holding him, talking to him, caring for him, it was more than he’d ever really had.

He knew he’d never see or talk to Eddie again, so why not embarrass himself?

“Match my breaths, Stevie,” Eddie calmly tried getting him to calm down.

And he could if he tried, he knew he could. He wasn’t having a panic attack, just a breakdown he’d been meaning to have for a year now. He needed to get it out.

“Look at me.”

Eddie’s tone was different now, deeper and difficult to ignore.

Steve looked at him, eyes wide, wet with tears still falling. His nose was running, he could feel it starting to drip, but Eddie was holding him tightly, and he couldn’t move his hands to try to wipe his face at all.

“Good boy.”

Steve shivered again. He blamed it on a chill in the air, but he knew that they both knew there was no chill in the air.

The air was humid, a rainstorm expected the next day keeping the environment around them stale and still.

“You can cry as much as you want, but you have to breathe. Understand?”

Steve nodded, taking in a shaky breath.

“Better,” Eddie smiled, his face still showing concern, but relaxing when Steve started taking more frequent, slow breaths.

He felt less tears gather and fall the more breaths he took, his eyes never leaving Eddie’s smiling face.

“Doing better, sweetheart?”

Steve nodded, but he still felt the lingering loneliness, knew that when Eddie left him, he’d be back to square one.

“What’s got you so upset, huh?”

Steve shrugged, letting his head rest on Eddie’s shoulder.

“Did someone hurt you?”

What a loaded fucking question that was.

Yeah, a lot of people hurt Steve, for as long as he could remember, emotionally and physically.

But he wasn’t about to spill his guts to Eddie, even if he was being nice. He didn’t know the guy enough to start talking about his abandonment issues.

Eddie’s hands were running along his back, soft and then harder, soft again, then settled in his lower back.

His hands were big, bigger than Steve’s even, and his fingers were long. His splayed out hands covered all of Steve’s lower back area.

He felt covered, protected.

He didn’t want to get up.

“Steve, if someone hurt you, you need to tell someone. It doesn’t have to be me, but maybe your parents or the counselor.”

“Can’t tell my parents if they’re the ones who hurt me,” Steve spoke before realizing what he was saying.

It hit him so suddenly, he started to pull away, a small whimper leaving his body without his consent.

But Eddie wasn’t letting him go, tightened his arms around him and shushed him gently.

“Hey, stay with me. We don’t have to talk about it, let me just hold you a bit more.”

Steve gave in. He couldn’t understand why, or how, or what was running through his mind. He just knew the way Eddie was holding him made him feel whole for maybe the first time in his life.

He chased that feeling, sinking further into Eddie’s chest and letting the man rock him back and forth slowly.

Thinking went out the window as one of Eddie’s hands slowly brushed through his hair, then a finger slowly traced along his hairline, down his jaw, over his lips.

The whimper he let out now had nothing to do with being upset.

“Okay, sweetheart?”

“Why are you being nice to me?”

Eddie’s fingers froze, but only for a moment. Steve knew he’d never outright bullied Eddie, had probably been nicer to him than most of his friends had, but it didn’t change the fact that he’d never been particularly kind either.

His finger moved back along his lip, then up along his nose, then to his forehead. It was like he was trying to commit everything to memory, soaking every moment of this up because he didn’t think he’d have it again.

And maybe he wouldn’t.

But Steve wanted this to happen again when he wasn’t having a mental breakdown in Tommy’s backyard.

“Because sometimes there’s a lot more to people than what everyone sees and I think I see you a lot better than most people do. I don’t need you to explain anything to know you’re hurting and you don’t deserve to be.”

He said it like it was simple, like it made all the sense in the world for him to comfort him.

Maybe to him it did.

“But I was an asshole.”

“You were. But it doesn’t take a genius to see you aren’t anymore.”

“How do you know that?”

Eddie was quiet for a minute, his fingers moving back to Steve’s hair and tugging gently so he had to pull away from his chest and look at him.

“The old Steve would have never even given me a chance to help. He also wouldn’t have been standing by the wall for a party like this or escaping to a secluded area to cry. The old Steve wouldn’t be looking at me like you are right now.”

“How am I looking at you?”

“Like you want me to kiss you,” Eddie smiled.

He said it easily. Like saying it wouldn’t have made most other guys punch him immediately.

“And if I do?”

“You’ll have to ask nicely. You may be a changed man, but I do deserve some manners.”

Steve smiled at him, his charm replacing any lingering sadness.

“Oh? So if I were to lean in and kiss you that would be rude? I need to say please?”

Even in the dark, Steve could see Eddie blushing.

“I’m not stopping you,” Eddie finally said, voice strong despite the redness of his cheeks.

“So if I said please, you’d kiss me?” Steve asked as he inched closer, his breath hot against Eddie’s lips.

“If you said please, I’d do anything you wanted,” Eddie gasped out.

“Please kiss me,” Steve breathed out, his lips gently grazing against Eddie’s.

Eddie pushed forward the final centimeters, his lips warm and wet against Steve’s.

They both groaned into the kiss, Eddie’s hands cupping Steve’s jaw to keep him there.

Steve moved so he could straddle Eddie’s lap, his hands resting on Eddie’s shoulders as he finally gained the higher ground.

He realized quickly he didn’t want it, not with Eddie.

He let out a whimper and Eddie pulled away for a moment, but only to smirk and nudge him back.

“This dock isn’t gonna collapse under us, is it?”

“Don’t know,” Steve supplied as he settled on his back, Eddie hovering over him.

“Guess we’ll have to find out.”

Eddie’s lips were back on his, demanding, but slow.

Minutes passed, maybe hours.

Steve felt safer than he ever had, here under Eddie, with every possibility that someone could find them eventually and not giving a shit about it.

Eddie would keep him safe.

He didn’t know Eddie well, but he knew that much.

No one who helped a known asshole when he was having a breakdown at a party would just leave him to be beat up for kissing a dude.

The way Eddie touched him, rough hands fluttering over any place his skin was visible, lips and tongue making new patterns against his own, it felt like Steve was being cherished, appreciated, loved.

If this was all he ever got, if this is all he ever felt and tasted of Eddie, he thinks it would be enough.

Or it wouldn’t and he would never feel like this again.

“You’re thinking too loud, sweetheart,” Eddie mumbled against his lips.

“Just feels good,” Steve added, placing another kiss against his lips.

He could feel the shift, the way Eddie was slowing down, pulling away inch by inch.

It wasn’t enough.

Steve whimpered.

“Sh. It’s okay, Stevie. We’re just pausing for now,” Eddie moved back, kissing his forehead before there was too much space between them.

He heard voices in the distance, a reminder that the party was still happening and possibly wrapping up.

“Did you drive here?”

“I walked.”

“You walked?”

Eddie sounded upset.

“I’m only a street away. Not a long walk.”

“I’ll drive you back to yours. Walking this late after so many idiots have been drinking and plan to drive is dangerous.”

Steve rolled his eyes.

“I’m not a damsel in distress or whatever they’re called.”

“Ah, but you are. Crying alone outside in the dark, waiting for a big, strong man to come save you? My chariot awaits!” Eddie was helping him stand as he spoke, then bowed and gestured towards the road where his van must have been parked.

Steve couldn’t help the laugh he let out.

Yeah, maybe he was a damsel in distress. Maybe he would let Eddie rescue him.

Maybe he didn’t have to be so lonely, at least for tonight.

[kisses4kaia]

can you do a 4/20 billy loomis fic? i havent seen much of him lately 😭 -🧸

it is no longer 4/20 but i can absolutely do this . thank you so much for 500 followers !!! 17+ mentions of marijuana usage, driving whilst high (don't), piv sex, high sex, and all-around summery, dazed and confused, high school-y type vibes (tnc is so 4/20 i love it)

tomorrow never came🍃- b, loomis ,,

today was arguably one of the most important days of the year in woodsboro, california for teenagers. it was the 20th of april, and i think you already know what that meant.

every rich kid in town was hosting a party. you didn't know which ones you were going to attend, but you did know one thing.

you were going to light the fuck up.

you and your boyfriend, billy, at least. and right now, he sat next to you, arm swung around your shoulder, legs dangling off the edge of his pickup truck.

the joint in between billy's lips burned amply as he sucked in the intoxication. "gimme that," you smiled, stealing the roach from his mouth.

he dragged his head with your hand, trying to get the most out of the hit before it was torn from him. you brought the blunt up to your lips and locked eyes with your boyfriend.

his eyes watched you as you inhaled and leaned closer to him as you blew the smoke into his mouth. he took the fog into his lungs happily. "god, you are so hot," he smiled.

you giggled. "obviously," you smirk, nodding to the growing tent in his pants. "ok, fuck you," he joked. "you will, soon." you teased.

it was then the marijuana started hitting you, so you turned to your boyfriend. "hey, baby. i think we should go now. you wanna skip or you wanna stay?" you asked him.

"i really hope you're joking, gorgeous," he said seriously, hopping off the truck and walking over to the driver's side.

you sighed with a smile doting on your mouth. "of course,"

you'd spent the afternoon in billy's backyard, swimming in his pool, making out, etc. you know, the usual.

you were now lying on his bed in a chiffon bathing suit cover-up thrown over your black bikini, the scent of chlorine still lingering in your hair.

"c'mon, we should go to a party, it's like," you paused to look at the analog clock that rested on his bedside table. "6:30. the sun is literally setting, bills." you finished.

his head rested in your lap, allowing you to play with his hair. "can't we just stay here forever?" he asked, irrationally. you smiled down at him.

"i wish, love. let's go, pretty boy," you tapped on his chest twice to get him up. he groaned, obviously. you slid on your denim shorts and white nikes.

he got dressed and carried you out of the house, bridal style. "billy! put me down!" you giggled into the crook of his neck. "mm, no," he said, opening the door to the driver seat of his truck and sitting down, you still in his lap.

you crawled out of his lap and into the passenger seat. "alright, let's go," you cut out his playfulness.

he looked over at you like he wanted to argue but just laughed.

his laugh was absolutely contagious. it made you smile and it made time stop. it that moment, it was just you and him, nobody or anything else. it was times like these that made living worth it.

as the drive began, you rolled your window down and allowed your hair to flow freely in the wind. the pressure of the breeze against your face was warm and inviting.

billy's strong hand found your thigh, drawing circles, no- hearts-, on the exposed skin with his thumb.

it wasn't long afterward the truck pulled into an abandoned parking lot, surrounded by trees and grassy patches. the party being held, kegs in every direction, and joints being passed every which way, was rather dense in population.

"stu and tatum are somewhere around here, i think," billy informed yanking the keys out of the ignition. "cool, let's get loaded. all i'm here for, actually," you joked, hopping out of the vehicle.

as you ran your eyes over the area, you spot the closest keg to you.

you saunter over, billy's hand in yours. among the stack of upside-down, cloudy, plastic cups, you took it apart and grabbed two from the middle. it was a habit you picked up from billy himself.

billy grabbed the cups from your hand and very graciously filled both of your glasses. "m'lady," he stepped back on one leg and lowered his head in a gentlemanly bow, handing you the beer.

"why thank you, kind sir," you jested, snatching the cup from his grasp. "'course.”

and with that, you and billy- hand in hand, arms swinging- lingered around the area, conversing with classmates. of course, you eventually found stu and tatum.

"hey guys!" you called out to the couple, stu's arm lazily slung around tatum's shoulder as their legs dangled off the edge of an old truck, just as you and your own boyfriend were sat in the school parking lot a few hours earlier.

it didn't belong to anyone in specific, the truck. it was a shade of dark green, with patches of rust plaguing its exterior. it was more of a decoration. you were almost certain it didn't even run anymore.

"y/n! billy! my 2 favorite people," started stu before tate shot him a warning glance. "other than you, babe. obviously," he quickly sputtered out. she laughed, satisfied.

you took a sip of your drink before you hopped up on the truck next to the blonde girl, billy following suit.

"sid couldn't make it?" you asked, noticing your brunette friend was nowhere to be found. "yeah, she had homework. said her dad was on her ass all week 'bout it," stu replied, taking the first hit from a fresh joint he just rolled.

"hm," you hummed. the silence was comfortable.

the song of the cicadas, singing a duet with the crickets in the otherwise quiet night. the chatter of others was soft, the occasional laugh lingering in the air.

you had been so in your thoughts, you hardly even noticed when tatum passed the joint over to you. "oh, thanks," you slid it in between your fingers.

as you inhaled the magical herb, you felt billy's hand slide low on your back, dangerously low. you chuckled to yourself before slipping the joint over to your boyfriend's free hand.

"careful," your warning voice was a whisper, eyes watching as he grinned around the roll between his lips.

billy reached around behind both you and tatum and handed the roach to the macher boy.

his fingers brushed over your skin, going lower and lower until you had to speak up. "hey, guys. it's getting pretty late," you announced to your friends, hopping off the automobile and dragging billy along with you.

"oh... alright. we'll see you around, guys," offered tatum with a smile. "see you guys later," stu raised his hand in a cross-faded dismissal.

you chuckled quietly to yourself and sort of aggressively tug billy’s arm. no one was sober enough to notice or care.

you dragged him all the way to his own pickup, disregarding the suggestive stares being thrown at you left and right.

after a short while, you finally found the vehicle. upon entering the backseat and being hit with the strong scent of marijuana and beer, billy crawled in after you.

"so why'd you drag me-" you cut billy off with a steaming kiss. he was taken aback at first but quickly melted into the sensation of your lips on his.

shortly after, clothes were off and flying. well, kind of. your cover-up and bikini top was off, but your denim shorts were still around one ankle with the tie-on bikini bottom being only half untied. unlike all the complications with your own outfit, billy was naked.

you guys laughed so hard as billy tried to sober up for this moment, on top of you, messily rolling a condom onto his length, just until he could at least insert his cock into your warmth.

a moan quickly intercepted your laughter as he bottomed out into you. even under the influence of marijuana and alcohol, he still fucked you like no one else.

his lips attacked your neck as you threw your head back with whimpers, applauding billy of his work. his rhythm was sloppy, but the way the tip brushed against that one spot inside of you, made up for it entirely.

with every hard thrust, his pelvis collided with your clit, increasing the pleasure you were already feeling almost too much of.

as billy’s thrusts quickly got shorter and faster, he smashed his lips against yours.

the haze of the double intoxication, along with the stimulation in your middle, made it hard to keep up with his lips moving against yours.

but it didn’t really matter, because not 5 seconds after, your release crashed into you like a semi-truck. you couldn’t stop smiling through your moans of billy’s name.

although you couldn’t feel it, you knew he’d finished aswell from the satisfied sigh he let out.

and when he pulled out, you two just stayed like that, wrapped up in each others arms, fighting the incessant urge to sleep.

“holy shit, your eyes are so red,” billy started laughing. in hindsight, it really wasn’t that funny. however, the way billy laughed like you just told the greatest joke of all time, made you start quietly giggling before completely giving in and cackling right along with him.

many couples would think the best part of their relationship would be the dates, maybe the sex, or maybe even the arguments, but for you? for you, it was moments like these, laughing your asses off with each other, completely ignoring the fact that you’re definitely going to regret getting this crossfaded in the morning.

for you it was moments like these when you loved each other like tomorrow never came.

[outerspacebisexual]

I'll Give In To You - Steve Harrington

Summary: You and Steve have been best friends for six years. It takes one drunken night to reveal your feelings and ruin everything. Or does it?

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Word count: 5.5k

Warnings: swearing, angst, fluff, drinking, mentions of vomit, friends to lovers (yes!yes!yes!)

a/n: if you see a mistake in this, no you didn't. friends to lovers my beloved

also, with the new tumblr guidelines, please please please interact with fics. it's harder than ever to get our works out to people, and we appreciate it so much <3

Masterlist

As two of Hawkins High’s most avid partygoers, you and Steve were expected at every party that was thrown. And cheer captain Rachel Bilson’s party was no different.

“Did you see this?” you asked Steve as you took your seat next to him at lunch.

He took the flyer from your hands, eyes trailing over the date and time for the ‘April Fools’ party. “I heard about it from Carol,” he replied, scrunching it up before you could take it back from him. “People will use anything for an excuse to throw a party.”

You scoffed. “As if you care, Mister Keg King.”

He shot you a sly grin, paired with a wink. You rolled your eyes, even as the heat pooled in your stomach. “Anyway,” he said, “we need to be thinking about my party. It’s less than a month away and we haven’t organised anything.”

You raised a brow. “Why am I suddenly helping you plan your own party?”

“Because you’re my best friend and you know I can’t plan to save my life.” His puppy dog eyes were big and bright, and you fought against the smile already forming.

“What will you give me in return?”

He tapped his fingers on the table, as if deep in thought. “How about a ride to school every day this month?”

“You already pick me up most mornings.”

“Sure, but how about every day?”

You shot him a look, but agreed. In truth, he didn’t have to give you anything, which he knew. You would do anything for him, including plan his birthday party, for free. It was one of the downsides to being in love with your best friend.

You and Steve had been friends for six years, best friends for five of them. And just like every cliché, you had fallen in love with him. And God, it was the worst thing you had ever done. Because it meant that you were subjected to watching him go out with other people while you watched on from the sidelines like a loser.

It was pathetic, really, but you had managed to hide your feelings from him for years successfully. Senior year would be no different.

“Do you have basketball practice this afternoon?” you asked him around a mouthful of food.

“Yeah, last period. I can still drive you home.”

You nodded in thanks. “What’s happening about—” You cut yourself off when you noticed that Steve’s eyes were on the doors of the cafeteria. On Nancy Wheeler. The heat in your stomach turned to ice. “Steve,” you said, bringing his attention back to you. “What’s up with you and Nancy?”

His eyes shot back to you. “What?”

You gestured with your head to the girl. “What’s up with you and her?”

Steve and Nancy had been spending more time together recently, which was no secret to you and the rest of Hawkins High. It was a weird pairing if you were honest, not that you would ever tell Steve that.

“Nothing,” he rushed. “We’re just lab partners. She’s having a hard time with her parents or something lately.”

The way he scrambled for an excuse wasn’t all that convincing, but you let it go. “Right.” Your appetite was suddenly gone, and you pushed your tray away.

Steve noticed, but didn’t say anything, pushing it back towards you without a word. “Now, about my party.”

You rolled your eyes again. If there was one thing Steve was good at, it was changing the subject.

+

Like Steve said, the sound of sweaty teenage boys running around was loud enough that you could hear it from outside the gymnasium.

You slung your backpack over your shoulder as you made your way towards it. You had elected to skip out on last period. Mrs. Click wouldn’t even notice. Plus, reading in the bleachers was always preferable to learning history for an exam that wouldn’t mean anything after graduation.

Opening the doors to the gym, you found the team in the middle of a practice game.

You waved at the coach, who at this point, was used to you sitting in on his lessons. He was fine with it, so long as you didn’t say anything or disturb his class. He was on some power trip about ensuring that the team made the finals this year. Something that Steve was sure wasn’t going to happen.

Steve caught sight of you as you made yourself comfortable towards the back of the bleachers, already pulling out a book from your backpack. He gave a nod in greeting, and you smiled back at him.

He was sweaty beyond belief, the spring air already humid enough to cause a breakout of sweat if you even thought about doing anything strenuous.

You sat in silence for the majority of the lesson, only looking up when you heard the doors open again. When you did, you thought you must have been hallucinating, because Nancy Wheeler was standing at the entrance.

You watched as Steve excused himself from practice to go over to her. Their words were hushed, not audible over the team’s shouting, no matter how hard you tried to listen.

She looked upset, that much you could tell, and Steve comforted her as she sniffled.

The bell rang out through the gym, and you shoved your book into your bag, taking the steps two at a time. You were nothing if not nosy, so you were disappointed when you got to Steve right as Nancy exited the doors and headed out into the parking lot.

You clapped your hand on Steve’s shoulder, before immediately pulling it back when it came away sweaty. You made a face and wiped it on your pants. “Gross. What was that about?”

He chuckled as he watched you. “Nothing. She’s just having a hard time with her parents and her brother.”

“So you said,” you replied dryly.

“I’m actually going to drive her home today,” he admitted. “She’ll be out by the car if you wanted to wait for me out there.”

Your stomach soured instantly. “It’s all good. I’m catching a lift with Riley,” you lied. Steve’s eyes shot from you to Riley, who was making his way to the locker room with the other guys. You prayed that Riley would give you a lift home. You two were friends enough that it shouldn’t be a problem, but on the off chance he couldn’t—home was a long way to walk.

Still, it was better than riding with Steve and Nancy.

“Oh, OK,” was all Steve said, his eyes returning to you.

You sent him a smile that he returned, even if his was a little strained. You chalked that up to Nancy waiting for him.

You started to walk away when he called to you. “Hey, I have something for you,” he said, gesturing for you to hold out your hand. You shot him a confused look, but held it out anyway.

He grabbed your wrist faster than you could move and ran your hand over his sweaty hair.

You ripped it out of his grasp and shoved him. “Yuck, Steve. What the fuck?”

He only laughed as he jogged to the locker rooms, leaving you standing there shouting after him.

+

It turned out that Rachel’s ‘April Fools’ party was just a normal party that happened to be the weekend after April Fools. You hadn’t expected anything more than that.

As always, Steve was the Keg King, and you could only watch on as the others held him upside down.

You had spent the majority of the night by his side like normal, downing your fair share of alcohol until the room started spinning and your feet no longer felt like they were your own.

You laughed at something Steve said as the two of you stood in the kitchen, surrounded by a few members of the basketball team. If you were honest, you weren’t even sure what was funny.

“Hey guys, I’ll be back,” Steve said suddenly, and he was disappearing through the crowd of people towards the front door.

You peered over the heads of the people in the living room to see Nancy Wheeler and Barbara Holland entering the house. You raised a brow as you watched Steve give them each a side hug. To say you were surprised to see them at a party was an understatement.

Barbara was nice, and you shared a class with her last year, but a party was not her scene. You imagined that Nancy was the same.

“What’s up with you?” Riley asked from beside you.

You turned your attention to him, his face blurring and swirling the more you tried to focus on it. “Nothing,” you mumbled. “I’m just surprised to see Nancy here.”

“See Nancy here, or see Nancy with Steve?”

You shot him a look that probably seemed a lot more intimidating in your head. “Hey, I don’t need you interfering in my life,” you slurred, stumbling over the word ‘interfering’.

“Right,” he drawled, his teasing smile making you want to be anywhere but beside him.

He hadn’t left you alone about it since you cornered him that afternoon a week ago and begged him for a ride home. He had agreed on the condition that you tell him why you needed one when Steve had only left five minutes before.

You lied for the most part, but he saw straight through it.

“I’m getting another drink,” you muttered, and he only nodded and turned back to the conversation.

You pushed through the crowd, saying hello to a few people as you tried to find Steve’s cooler with your drinks.

After five minutes of looking, you gave up, choosing instead to grab a beer from a random cooler.

You popped the cap, but as soon as the smell hit your nostrils, bile was rising in your throat. You stood completely still, hoping that the nausea would pass, but it only grew until you were shoving past people in search of the bathroom.

Luckily, the door was ajar, and you slammed it shut and collapsed in front of the toilet just in time.

Once you were sure that you’d gotten everything out of your system, you stood, washing your mouth out and staring at yourself in the mirror.

You still looked fine, aside from the spaced-out drunk look in your eyes.

Picking up the beer you’d left on the counter, you swigged it, the burn from the alcohol cancelling out the burn from the vomit.

There was a knock on the door, and you shouted ‘come in’ before you even thought about the fact that you were in a random bathroom and it wasn’t usually a shared space.

Fortunately for you, it was Steve. “Hey, Riley said he saw you rushing in here.”

You stumbled as you leaned against the counter. “I just felt a little sick,” you explained, gesturing to the toilet.

“Ah. You feeling better?”

You giggled. At what you didn’t know. Maybe at the way he looked so pretty tonight. Then you remembered where he had been. You took another swig from your beer. “Why aren’t you with Nancy?”

Steve glanced between you and the beer in your hand. “Where’d you get that? That’s not ours.”

He tried to take it from you, but you pulled out of his reach. “Where’s Nancy?”

“I don’t know. With Barb outside probably,” he said, finally succeeding in wrangling the bottle from you. He sniffed it. “Did someone give this to you? And why are you so caught up with Nancy?”

You scoffed, ignoring the first question. “Because you’re always with Nancy now,” you slurred. “It’s Nancy this and Nancy that. So, why aren’t you with her now?”

Steve righted you when you leaned a little too far back. “Because I’d rather be with you.”

“You don’t mean that.”

His brows furrowed. “What?”

You rolled your eyes and huffed in an exaggerated manor, all drunken foolishness. “You don’t mean that, Stevie. You would choose Nancy over me, and that’s OK!” You patted his chest. “It’s OK that you choose her. She’s nice.”

If Steve was confused before, he was completely and utterly lost now. “What are you talking about? You’re my best friend.”

You let out a broken sound, something between a laugh and a scoff. “I know. That’s the worst part. Because you don’t even realise just how much it hurts to be around you when I love you.”

Steve went rigid beneath you, his chest halting as he held his breath.

The two of you stood there, suspended in time.

“What?” he asked after a moment.

As he said it, the music died out and you stood up straight, the drunken cloud of fog floating away quicker than ever before.

You had not just said that out loud. But from the crinkle between Steve’s brows and the confused look on his face, you most definitely had.

You pulled away from him, brushing past him before he could stop you. He still tried, but you were faster, slipping out of his reach and racing through the crowd of people.

You couldn’t hear Steve behind you, but it was hard to hear anything over the music blaring and your blood thrumming in your ears.

Riley was where you’d left him, and for the second time in a week, you were begging him for a ride home. He looked concerned at first, but agreed when you threatened to take his keys and drive home yourself.

You didn’t see Steve before you left.

You didn’t even try and find him.

You didn’t want to do anything except get home and cry.

Which was exactly what you did.

+

You drove to school on Monday morning, despite the fact that Steve had promised to drive you every day this month.

After spending most of Saturday night and all of Sunday moping around and crying at your utter stupidity, you had to face school.

You were sitting in your first period English, the seat next to you that Steve normally sat in empty. At first, you were hopeful that maybe he’d skipped first period, which was the only class that you shared with him on Monday.

Your hopes were crushed, however, when Steve came bumbling into the room five minutes late.

He dropped into the seat beside you, and you could feel the heat behind your cheeks as you kept your eyes averted.

“You drove to school,” he said after a few minutes.

“Yeah,” you replied, still not looking at him.

He was silent again. “I waited for you.”

The guilt stabbed your heart until it was nothing more than a deformed pin cushion. “Sorry,” you said, and you really meant it. “I should have told you I was driving this week.”

“This week?” He was surprised, and he said it a lot louder than he meant to because the teacher was quick to shush him. He continued, quieter, “You’re driving this whole week?”

You nodded and dared a glance at him. “Yeah. My dad said I need to drive my car more or he’ll sell it.” It wasn’t a complete lie, but it was far from the truth. The truth that you couldn’t face the consequences to your dumb actions.

“Right,” he replied, and he slumped back in his seat, fumbling with his pen.

+

The next few weeks went by in an awkward dance of you and Steve trying to act normal and failing spectacularly.

You managed to avoid him for the most part, which was more painful than you thought it would be. You hadn’t spent a day without him on purpose for years. And now you were doing it most days.

Maybe what hurt the most was that Steve wasn’t acting like nothing happened. It was worse. He was acting like you were some ticking timebomb that would fall apart if he looked at you for a second too long.

Which just made everything ten times harder to pretend like nothing happened.

You spent lunch in the library half the time, where you by chance ran into Barbara Holland.

She sat opposite you at the table you’d found in the back of the room. “Hi,” she greeted.

“Barb.” You blinked. You hadn’t seen her since catching sight of her at the party two weeks ago. It had been probably six months since you’d spoken to her. “Hey.”

She pulled some books and pens from her backpack, setting up for studying what looked like science. “This science project is killing me,” she said. “How are you getting through it?”

“Uh, I’m just doing some extra reading on the topic. I’m not in Mr. Hilton’s class, so I’m not partnered with anyone.”

Barb nodded. “Yeah, I’m not either. I think he’s only partnering people because it’s a senior-slash-junior class.”

“Yeah, probably.” You weren’t quite sure what to say after that. It was weird enough that Barb was sitting in front of you in the first place, let alone that you were making small talk about a science project.

“Nancy and Steve are partnered together,” Barb said, breaking the silence.

You looked back at her, brows raised. “I know.” Your answer was snappier than you meant it to be.

Barb studied you for a long moment. “He’s being a really good friend to her. Her dad has been giving her a hard time recently, and Steve knows all about that, so he’s been helping her out.”

“Cool,” you replied.

Barb went quiet again, and you turned back to your work.

“Steve’s birthday is next week,” she said.

You sighed. “I know when my best friend’s birthday is, Barb.”

If she clocked how grating she was being, she didn’t care. “He’s still having the party that you guys planned.”

You narrowed your eyes. You knew exactly where she was going with this little spiel.

She was trying to gauge if you were going to Steve’s party. It was no secret that you had pulled away from the senior festivities in the past few weeks. You hadn’t attended many parties or skipped classes for fun like you used to. The idea of getting drunk and admitting something even more mortifying while under the influence was terrifying.

You weren’t sure if Barb had come of her own accord, or if Steve had put her up to it. Or worse yet, if Nancy had done it.

You suddenly had no desire to talk to Barb, and you packed your notebook and textbook into your bag. “Thanks, Barb,” was all you said as you left the library.

+

Steve’s leg bounced up and down as he sat on his couch, surveying the surrounding partygoers. It was his usual crowd—the entire senior class of Hawkins High, along with a few sophomores and juniors that somehow snagged an invite.

His eyes drifted over the people he’d known his entire life, all standing in his house. He should be grateful that this many people knew him and wanted to come to his party. Instead, he was clinging to his couch and searching the faceless throng of people for the one person he really wanted to see.

The one person that his life had unknowingly revolved around until three weeks ago.

He gripped his beer bottle tighter.

Someone clapped him on the shoulder, and for a split second, it was you. It was your hand on his shoulder, a sly comment falling from your mouth before he even turned to look at you.

It was you. Until it wasn’t, and the hope in his chest dwindled as the image of you was replaced with a guy from his science class, wishing him a happy birthday and congratulating him on the great party.

He thanked him lamely, the bottle in his hands suddenly the most interesting thing in the room.

You didn’t come to parties anymore.

He took a can from someone as they passed him, shouting ‘happy birthday’ over the pounding music.

It was his party after all. It was his birthday. He should be enjoying himself. He should have finished the lukewarm beer in his hands twenty minutes ago. He should be shot gunning the can in his hands with the rest of the basketball team by the pool.

His heart started to race.

He should be doing any number of things with any number of people.

But the only place he wanted to be was with you.

He was standing before he could stop himself.

The guy from earlier was by the door when he grabbed his keys. “Hey, where are you going, man?”

“Out,” was all Steve replied, only vaguely aware of the guy shouting that he couldn’t leave his own party.

He didn’t care about leaving his house in the hands of a bunch of high schoolers.

He only cared about getting to you.

+

You stared blankly at the perfectly wrapped gift box sitting on your dresser.

It was teasing you.

You didn’t know how, but it was.

Maybe with the promise of everything being all right if you just got the guts to go give it to Steve. It didn’t matter that he was having a party. You were still his best friend, you still had more right than anyone else to be at his place.

Plus, you had helped organise the party to begin with. If anything, you should be pride of place next to Steve.

But you weren’t.

The prospect of talking to Steve after your mortifying ordeal was almost too much to bear. You had managed to keep your stupid feelings to yourself for years and suddenly a few too many drinks and a random bathroom was what sent you over the edge.

It was humiliating.

You groaned and collapsed onto your back on your bed, covering your eyes with your arm.

Even without looking at it, the present was burned into the back of your eyelids. The worst part was, you knew that he would love it.

He’d get that goofy look on his face as he pulled the lid off, and he wouldn’t even bother to suppress the laughter that would burst from him. He would throw his arms around you without a second thought, and you would burn from head to toe at his touch while you pretended to be nonchalant about the gift, lying through your teeth about how you’d forgotten his birthday. You’d lie, despite the fact that it had taken almost six months and plenty of tears to make.

You’d pretend, just like you always did.

Normally, you and Steve would be so drunk by now that you’d collapse into his bed and he’d fall to the floor in a heap, yanking his pillow from beneath your head, ignoring your objections.

But now, you were holed up in your room ignoring that you wanted to be with him.

Each minute that ticked by was spend volleying between two thoughts: ‘I should go and see him’ and ‘I need the ground to open up and swallow me whole’.

After ten agonising minutes of going back and forth, you stood.

Steve was still your best friend. And he would never not see you on your birthday.

Your eyes found the gift again. It sat completely still, completely unmoving. You stared at it. It stared back.

“Fuck it,” you mumbled, and you were getting dressed before you could convince yourself this was a terrible idea.

+

The route to your house was second nature to Steve by this point.

Six years of biking, and then driving, between your place and his had the turns seared into his brain. He could get there blindfolded.

He hadn’t even bothered to turn on the radio. The silence was somehow comforting. It was neutral. It didn’t tell him that this was either the stupidest thing he’d ever done or that it was the best thing he would ever do.

Only his mind told him that. Each thought took up equal space as he drove, swinging up and down and around and around like unbalanced scales.

Your driveway came into view. The only car parked out front was your own, no sign of your parents’ cars. He didn’t know if that was a blessing or a curse.

He pulled in behind your car and cut the engine.

Through your window, he could see your bedroom light was on, the light curling from beneath the curtains. You were probably in there right now, curled up in bed reading one of your countless novels that he could never keep up with. You were always one to forgo sleep for the next chapter.

He chewed on his bottom lip as he sat there in the darkness, just watching. He heaved in a breath and screwed his eyes shut.

It was his birthday, and even though he didn’t have a cake or candles, he still had a wish.

A wish that he cashed in as he sat in his car in your driveway.

+

In your haste to get semi-presentable for a party, you couldn’t hear anything over your laboured breathing.

You threw on a jacket, and after scanning your appearance in the mirror, you gave up on trying to be anything other than the weird mess that you had become. It didn’t matter anyway. You were just going to see Steve and give him his gift, and then you were coming back home.

The gift was just where you’d left it, just as intense in its silent stare. It was a box, you thought darkly, how could it even have a stare?

Before taking it from your dresser, you opened the lid, peeking inside just to make sure it was still in there.

It was.

The jacket you’d made and sewed yourself staring back at you. From the way you’d folded it, the embroidery on the left-hand side was visible. Harrington’s Baby-Sitting Service in lettering so small you could barely make it out. The lettering colour was the same as the jacket material, so no one would notice it unless it was pointed out.

What wasn’t visible from the way it was sitting, was the other embroidery on the inside of the right cuff: your name.

In even smaller lettering, it wasn’t visible at all unless you ran your fingers over it and felt that it was there.

You slammed the lid back down and took it under your arm.

It was too late to back out now.

Descending the stairs, you were surprised to find your keys exactly where they should be. It was like your earlier self had been preparing for this moment.

Gripping your keys in one hand and clutching the present tighter beneath your arm, you yanked your front door open.

+

The gravel crunched under foot as Steve made his way to your front door.

Once he was in front of it, he hesitated.

What if you didn’t want to see him? What if he knocked and you didn’t answer? What if he knocked and you did answer?

What was he even going to say?

He hadn’t organised a speech on the drive over. He had a full fifteen minutes, and he wasted them on his own pitiful thoughts instead of preparing a speech.

Maybe he could go back to his car and work on one, and then come back and try it again.

But before he got the chance, the outside light flicked on, and he was left standing—completely frozen—inches from the door as it was reefed open from the inside.

+

You faltered, eyes widening as you registered that Steve was standing on the threshold of your house.

“Steve,” you breathed.

He looked just as shocked to see you standing there. “Y/N,” he replied, voice shaky.

You blinked at him, a million thoughts racing through your head. The first being: ‘Why aren’t you at your party?’ And the second: “What are you doing here?”

He opened and closed his mouth a few times. “I—uh—I came to see you.”

“Oh,” was all you managed.

His eyes went from your face to your outfit to the gift under your arm. “Were you…were you coming to see me?”

You would have to be blind to miss the hopefulness behind his words and in his eyes. You shuffled and pulled the box from under your arm. Holding it in front of him now, it felt stupid. “Yeah,” you said finally. “I was going to give it to you at your party.”

“You’re going to the party?” he asked, a glimmer of surprise flicking across his face. “I didn’t think you wanted to come.”

“I don’t,” you mumbled, and you caught the way his shoulders deflated. “But I wanted to see you. It’s still your birthday, Steve.”

He nodded, swallowing harshly as an awkward silence descended over the two of you. He didn’t move to come in, even when you invited him in.

He shifted his weight from foot to foot as his eyes darted around wildly. “I’m sorry,” he said suddenly, and you paused from where you were dropping your keys into the bowl by the door. You placed the gift on the table and turned to look at him as he continued, “I’m sorry for not talking to you. I just thought…I thought that you wanted space. From everything. From me.”

You didn’t tell him that that was exactly the opposite of what you wanted.

“I wanted so badly to talk to you about it, but Nancy said that you probably didn’t want that. She said that you would see me when you were ready.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes at the mention of Nancy. Of course he would go to Nancy Wheeler for help with his problems. It also didn’t help that she was right, sort of. “Steve, it’s all right, really. I was—”

“No,” he cut you off. “It’s not all right. I—I shouldn’t have let you walk out of that bathroom. I should have chased you down.”

“Steve—”

He held up a hand. “Just…Just let me finish, please.”

You opened your mouth, but closed it after a moment, nodding for him to keep going.

He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a shaky breath. “When you said what you said in that bathroom, I was surprised. Not about what you said, but about how blind I’d been. Because you…I’ve been in love with you since freshman year.”

You froze, your heart thumping hard against your ribcage.

His eyes were trained on the floor, the words tumbling from his mouth. “And I told myself for years that it didn’t matter because I didn’t want to ruin anything. Because I was happy if I just got to be your friend. And then that night, I was worried that you didn’t mean it.” His voice broke, and it took everything in you to not reach out and hug him. “I thought that maybe you were just drunk and saying things you didn’t mean. And if that was true, if you really didn’t mean it, then I couldn’t risk saying it to you and having things become weird between us.”

When he finally looked at you, his eyes were lined with tears. Your own suddenly burned.

“But then things got weird anyway. And it felt like my fault. Because I couldn’t look at you without hearing what you said.”

“Steve,” you began, but you couldn’t work out where to start. “What about Nancy?”

He blinked. Then blinked again. “What about Nancy?”

You floundered. “Aren’t the two of you…?”

“Nancy?” he barked. “No. Nancy is a friend. She’s nice and all, but…”

“But what?”

His eyes found yours again. “But she’s not you.”

You stared at him. There was a tender vulnerability in his eyes, one that you had rarely seen from him. You had no doubt that yours reflected your own. A tear slipped from your eye, and Steve was stepping towards you before you could wipe it away.

He took your face in his hands, so gently that his fingers felt like little more than a whisper across your skin. He swiped the tear from your cheek. He was so close. “Steve,” you breathed.

“Y/N,” he murmured back, just as quiet.

Your eyes flickered between his, and when his own dipped to your lips, your breath hitched.

The space between you was infinitely large, but Steve made the leap anyway.

And as his lips pressed to yours, the world fell away into nothing but the two of you in this moment that had been building for six years.

[garbinge]

Drunken Night

Jax Teller & Teller!SisterOC Joanne ‘Jo’ Teller (a little Chibs cameo too) 30 Day Fic Challenge (19/30)

Word Count: 2.4k A/N: Another slice of life fic for Joanne Teller outside of my multi-chap Charming life but as usual I'll still be using that tag list :)

Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. Drunkenness, drug use, drug selling, pining, hungover, alcoholism in a way.

Charming Life Taglist: @drabbles-mc​ @livingdeadblondequeen​ @justreblogginfics @chloe-skywalker @kmc1989

When Jax’s phone rang, he knew answering it was going to piss off pretty much everyone around him, but when he saw Jo’s name with the time in the top left corner, he walked away immediately and answered. 

“Hey, what’s up?” He could practically hear the scoffs clear as day of the men who ranked a lot higher than him burning their glares into his kutte as he walked away. They were likely getting more mad as they stared at the fresh rocker that was sewed into the back of his kutte, since he and Opie just finished their prospecting period. 

All Jax could hear on the other line was loud music, yelling, and then he heard Jo’s voice. “Jax?” It was extremely slurred, and very faint, like it wasn’t her who was on the phone. “You called Jax?!” And that remark confirmed it. 

“Hey Jax,” One of the voices Jax knew as Jo’s close friend was calmly speaking into the phone despite the chaos going on in the background. 

“Mare?” He asked, confused. “Where’s Jo?”

“Well um, currently? She’s making her way to the coffee table–oh no, she cut across to the keg to do a keg stand. She’s drunk, Jax. She won’t listen to me, I didn’t know who else to call.” 

“Shiiiit.” Jax was laughing slightly. “C’mon Mare, give her a slide of bread to soak up the beer and a cigarette outside and you’ll be able to push her into a car and drop her in the plants on the side of my moms. She’ll find her in the morning.” Jax was laughing at his own joke. 

“Jax,” She was cut off by a lot of noise which made Jax frown. “It’s bad Jax, I think it’s more than just alcohol, she was upset before, I don’t know. But I need help. We’re at Laney’s house.” 

“Alright, yea I’m on my way.” Now he was more concerned, the idea of his older, definitely more responsible than him, being on drugs, and being taken advantage of at a party was off-putting. 

“I gotta go.” He spoke up to the group as he walked back putting the cell back into his pocket. 

Some of them groaned, some laughed, most were pissed. 

“Nah, man.” Tig shook his head with a smirk. 

“You’re not going anywhere, son. We’re on a run, we need you.” Clay’s tone of voice left little to be argued with, but that didn’t bother Jax. 

“It’s Jo.” Jax knew those words were the magic ones. 

Clay’s eyes closed in frustration and he brought his hand up to his head like a headache was forming. “Can’t you call Gem?” This time his voice left much to be argued with and was drowning in desperation. 

“You wanna call mom at 1:30 in the morning to go to pick up a completely smashed Joanne?” Jax’s eyebrows raised. 

The rest of the crew looked at each other knowing none of them would have wanted to deal with that or the aftermath of it. 

“I can ride with him.” Opie spoke up, his hands resting across his chest. 

“Nah, bro. I’m good.” Jax shook his head, knowing the likely reason Jo was like this right now was because of Opie. 

“You gotta bring someone with you, it’s 1:30, you ain’t goin’ alone.” Clay pointed, his anger coming back out. 

“Chibs.” Jax nodded to the man before looking at Opie who looked wildly confused. “It’s better not to have both our bright white brand new rockers driving through Mayan territory to get back home at 1:30, bro.” Jax scrunched his face up. 

“Let’s go, Jackie boy.” Chibs slapped his shoulder as he walked towards the bikes. 

“Take the tow, she’s probably not in the best riding shape.” Clay spoke annoyed. “We’ll load your bikes up in the van.” 

The ride was quick, they made a 40 minute ride back to Charming, 20 minutes, without incident. Both of them stepped out of the truck as they stared at what was clearly a large house party still unfolding in the house. 

“Alright, I’m gonna go in and find her, you stay out here, only come in if things get rowdy.” He turned to Chibs who was grinning and pointing to the house. 

“Seems a bit rowdy already, lad.” 

Jax smirked and waved him off as he jogged up the driveway. The door was open but it was still tough to squeeze through the crowd. He dodged spilling drinks, annoying drunk people, and ashes of cigarettes being discarded until he spotted his sister, face down in the sink throwing up. 

“Jo.” He said as he pushed through the people now to make his way over to his sister. 

“I’m fine.” She pushed Jax’s arms off her the minute they touched her. 

“You’re clearly not fine.” 

“Here, I got her a water bottle.” Mare, Jo’s friend, appeared on the other side and handed Jax the water bottle. “She’s been like this for the last 10 minutes.” 

“Thanks, I got it from here.” Jax was shaking his head as Jo rolled her eyes clearly at the both of them. “C’mon, I’m gonna take you home.” 

Jo wasn’t in a place to argue anymore, the spinning was taking over and she was wishing she was back home. 

“Gemma’s gonna kill me.” Jo mumbled as she tried to balance herself against the counter. 

“Gonna bring you to my apartment at the clubhouse, I’ll tell her you were hangin’ with Wendy or some shit.” 

“She won’t believe that, she knows I got into it with your girlfriend last week.” 

Jax recalled their little argument last week that happened in front of everyone, Jo grilling her about something with her current boyfriend Micky that turned heated. Just as Jax thought about his sister’s boyfriend, he was in the room, like he spoke him to existence. 

As Jax closed his eyes in frustration, he mumbled under his breath. “Yea, not the biggest fan of yours either. C’mon, Jo.” He moved so that his sister was tucked under his arm and started leading her out of the party. 

She was mumbling a lot of nonsense, Jax not only chose to ignore it but it was honestly too hard for him to understand anyways. It was like that until they reached outside when Jo panicked. 

“My bag, I need my bag!” That was a sentence that came out clear as day. The panic in Jo’s voice meant there was something in her bag that she couldn’t leave without. 

“We’ll come back in the morning.” Jax tried to convince her as she flailed around in his arms. 

“I need my bag, NOW.” She was turning around, practically pushing Jax too go back inside. 

“Alright, alright. I’ll go grab it, you go with Chibs.” He was looing down the driveway in hopes that the man would see his struggles and come help. “Chibs!” With one call of his name, the man was appearing and Jax was pushing the girl into his arms. “Put her in the car, I gotta get her shit.” 

Jax was stepping back into the madness of the house party. His eyes immediately scanning for Joanne’s bag, her backpack was something that she’d bring everywhere with her since she was 12, and despite her being older now, he knew she still would have brought it. 

He clocked it on someone in the crowd and as he followed it he realized it was Micky. 

“Of course.” He mumbled before pushing through the crowd. “I’ll take the bag, Micky.” 

He turned around, pretty quickly, ready to fight but then smiled when he saw Jax. “Jackson.” He nodded. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep the bag safe for Jo.” 

“Yea just like you did for her.” He puffed his chest out. 

“I ain’t tryna fight you Jax.” The man escalated the conversation just by mentioning the word fight. 

“Never said anything about fightin’ Micky, just give me the bag.” 

“I ain’t given’ you shit, Teller.” Micky stepped to Jax who within the next two seconds, was ripping the bag off his shoulder and looking inside. 

He let out a breathy scoff when he pulled the bag of drugs out of his sisters bag and held it up to Micky. 

“I know for a fact this isn’t Jo’s.” He slammed it against his sister’s boyfriend’s chest. 

“I don’t know, she’s been really in the dumps lately, maybe she’s self soothing.” Micky smirked as his hand wrapped around the bags. 

“You know what, if that’s the case, I think I’ll take these with me.” Jax had started to think through how not only could he prove a point to Micky but also use this to get some quick cash for the club. 

Micky didn’t say anything, just tightened his grip on the bag. 

Jax pulled it out from behind his arms and stuffed it back into the backpack. His teeth sucking against his lip as he did it. “Stay the fuck away from Jo.” 

“Can’t help that she keeps running back to me. You’ll get it one day, Teller. Maybe when I have that reaper on my back.” He poked at Jax’s kutte which Jax quickly brushed off. 

“You’ll never be patched in Micky, you’re too much of a junkie creep to step foot in any SOA charter.” He was tossing the bag over his shoulder. 

“When I’m Jo’s old man, it’ll be pretty hard to stop me.” He was taking a step back now. “Enjoy the cash my drugs bring the club, maybe I’ll tell Clay if I’m funding SOA, I deserve a seat at the table.” 

Jax scrunched his face up at the comment but did the same as Micky and walked away. Moving the bag back down his shoulder to look through it. Finding a book, a notebook, and a makeup bag under the drugs. Inside the book, acting as a marker was a picture of Joanne, Jax and JT. Jax knew what it was before even looking at it fully. But when he went to place the book back in the pack, a piece of notebook paper fell out onto the driveway. As he moved to pick it up, he saw it was a note from Opie. 

“Know you’re leaving for cosmo school, Gemma mentioned it last time she was at TM – wanted to let you know that Donna and I are planning the wedding in June, wanted to let you know ahead of time so you could be there.” 

It looked like he had dropped it off or taped it to her door or something by the looks of the tape on the top of the sheet. He immediately knew this is what spiraled his sister. He pushed it back into the bag and made his way towards the tow truck. 

“Here.” Jax handed the girl the bag in which she hugged it tightly. Chibs looked at both of them a bit confused when Jax spoke up. “It’s JT’s bag. Gave it to her when we were kids.” 

That was all it took for Chibs to understand it’s sentimental meaning. 

“Where to, kids?” Chibs pushed the car’s gear into drive. 

“Back to the clubhouse, I’m not chancing dumping her at home and waking Gemma.” 

The ride was silent, the only sound being from the loud engine of the tow truck. As they pulled into TM the jerking of the truck over the potholes woke up Jo and she came to. 

“I feel like shit.” Her hand flew up to her head. 

“You look like it too.” Jax teased her as he glanced over at her hair all messed up. 

“Smell as well.” Chibs scrunched up his nose. 

“Fuck.” Jo looked down and saw the dried up puke stain on her shirt. 

“There’s clean clothes in one of our drawers. Gemma just did laundry. You’ll find something to change into.” 

“Gemma.” Jo started to piece together things. “She’s gonna be pissed I didn’t come home.” 

“Aren’t you leaving for cosmo school in like a week? She’s gotta get used to you not being home.” Jax said as he jumped out of the tow truck. 

“I think that’s exactly why these last few days home will be so crucial for our loving mother.” 

“I’ll tell her we were having a sibling bonding moment and drinking ourselves silly at the clubhouse bar.” Jax shrugged trying to think of something. 

“Aye, I can back that statement up.” Chibs agreed as he jumped up on the picnic tables to wait for Ja so they could head back up to meet the club. 

“Thanks.” Jo nodded in agreement. “You can go, I’ll be fine, I’ll take one of the prospect’s shirts, he keeps his things freakishly organized.” 

“Ahhh, Juicey.” Chibs laughed at the thought of their brand new prospect. 

“Did I say anything…” Jo whispered to Jax as her hands leaned against the clubhouse door to push it open. “..Stupid.” 

“Nope, just your normal bitchy self.” Jax joked which earned him a push. 

“I still feel so drunk.” Her hand moved to her head. “Thanks for picking me up. Mare call you?” 

“Yea, she was worried.” Jax grabbed a cigarette to place in his mouth. “For the record, if Micky can’t be there for you in moments like this, maybe he isn’t a good match.” 

“I broke up with Micky. Tonight. He’s dealing. Why I was fighting with Wendy last week.” 

Jax sighed and nodded. “You got shit in your bag.” He pointed to it which caused Jo to drop it off her shoulder and look inside. 

Her shoulders dropped, still being too inebriated and hungover mixed together to deal with it. 

“Give it to me, I’ll handle it.” His hand was extended out. 

Jo handed the plastic bag that was filled with a bunch of different pills and powders to Jax. “Can’t promise he won’t come looking for it.” 

“He won’t.” Jax grabbed it and tossed it to Chibs who caught it as he laid on the picnic table. Jo nodded and went to go inside the clubhouse when Jax called her name one last time. “You know, it’s his loss.” 

Jax wasn’t talking about Micky, but he knew Jo was assuming he was. 

“Thanks little brother.” She tapped his arm before she disappeared back in the clubhouse where she’d spend the rest of her night, alone. 

As she walked past the blue bike that was JTs, she stopped and placed her hand on it. 

She mumbled as her hand glided across the bike and fell off as she stumbled down the hallway of apartments. 

“Wish you were here.”