#but I think they’d get the compact one
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Gothic mushroom shaped candles. Danny picked one up, grinning. Sam would have love these on her alters. Very Sam, very Gotham.
It a bit bittersweet, now that he could think of her without being paralyzed by crushing grief. Her and Tucker both. Danny turned, keeping an eye on Tim as he glared into the case of used cameras.
Danny walked over and tried not to feel guilty about practically mooching off of a child. Even if the money he was using was actually the Drakes’.
“Like anything you see?”
Tim shook his head. Danny pondered over what little he knew of photography- all of which he learned from documentaries that were more focused on nature.
“I think there might be a camera store a couple of blocks down. We could get the ones that takes photos of animals, like the really big ones that takes photos of wildlife?”
“I guess. I mean, I don’t need it since we can…” Tim glanced around suspiciously. Danny willed his mouth to not smile at Tim’s antics. “Fly close,” the kid finished in a whisper.
“Okay, but what about when I’m not there?”
Tim hunched up on himself and Danny despaired inwardly. Uh oh, what did he say now?”
“Are you going somewhere?” Tim quietly asked, sounding hurt and upset.
“No,” Danny soothed, patting Tim on the head. I mean, what if I’m busy with stuff but you want to go take pictures without me?”
“You said to go get you whenever I wanna go out to take pictures.”
“Okay, yeah, I- well, we might as well get you a quality camera, right? To take really really good pictures of the… local wildlife. Like… the birds and the bats, and all that.” Danny winked exaggeratedly.
Tim blinked and giggled when he got the joke. “Okay, as long as you’re staying!”
Danny grinned, fangs and all. “Of course.”
——
At the end of their shopping spree, generously provided and sponsored by the Drake family and their heavy black card, Danny got a phone and Tim got a wild life camera that was a whopping $4,000 but was compact enough to not look absolutely ridiculous.
“It’s heavy!” Tim whined, as he grinned like a loon.
“It’s quality,” Danny plopped the shopping bags on the island in one of the giant kitchens Drake manor had. “I’ll make dinner. You figure out those settings and you can tell me about it when we eat.”
“Okay!” Tim hummed excited, quick fingers and laser focus already aimed at his new device.
Danny picked up his new phone and dialed a number he knew by heart. As it rung, Danny held it up to his ear and began prepping the ingredients. At least
“Hello?” His sister’s cautious voice came through the phone. Danny’s shoulders relaxed.
“Heya, Jazz.” He could see Tim’s ears all but perk up in order to eavesdrop. His mouth quirked up in amusement and Danny turned away. He probably shouldn’t be encouraging that kind of behavior… but it was funny.
“Danny! Are you okay? I- I heard that they chased after you and I was worried sick! Are you safe? Any injuries? Do I need to pick you up?”
“I’m good. Promise. Not bleeding out or dying. It’s actually pretty nice right now,” Danny paused before turning back a little more so he could watch Tim’s reaction peripherally. “Hey, listen, can I adopt a little brother?”
He watched Tim sit up straighter eyed flickering up to him and back down again, a secretly pleased look on his face as he figured out that Danny was in fact talking about him.
“Danny, what the hell?” Jazz huffed, audibly relieved to know that Danny wasn’t on his merry way to becoming a full on ghost. “Who, why, and what kind of trouble did you get into now?”
“Hey, this was me getting out of trouble. Those people don’t even know where I escaped to. Tim helped me out a lot,” Danny said in the tone that meant ‘and there’s more to it but I can’t tell you right now.’
“His name’s Tim?”
“Yeah, you wanna say hi?”
Tim looked terrified as he heard Danny’s side of the conversation. Danny could relate.
“Alright. But you’re explaining everything later, got it?”
“Sure thing, boss.”
Danny turned to Tim, abandoning the peas he was shelling and rinsing off his hand to hold the phone.
“Tim, my sister, Jazz, wants to say hi. Are you cool with that?”
“Uhm! Yeah! Yeah, sure.” Tim, honest to ancients, squeaked. Danny’s enhanced hearing could pick up Jazz’s already melting heart. He taped a button.
“Jazz, you’re on speaker.”
“Hey, Tim. I’m Jazz. Thanks for taking care of my little brother!”
“Uh, hi, Jazz! I’m Timothy Drake! And, uh, you’re welcome! Anytime!”
Tim glanced at Danny for reassurance, relaxing a bit when the halfa threw him a double thumbs up.
Jazz went quiet.
“Jazz, you good?” Danny asked.
“We’re adopting him. Danny, you better make sure knows about everyone. Hi, Tim, I’m Jazz, your new big sister.”
“Uh- I have parents.”
“That can be fixed,” Jazz casually brushed off. Tim looked like a deer in headlights, so Danny took his sister off speaker and went back to cooking. He made sure to smile at Tim.
“Don’t worry, we won’t adopt you if you don’t want to. But it wasn’t a joke, we’re very serious.”
“I’ll think about it?”
Danny shrugged. “Good enough for me.”
“So, where are you?” Jazz asked him, rustling coming through on the phone.
“Gotham.”
“You are so fucking lucky I love you, dumbass. I’ll be there tomorrow at noon.”
“Playing hooky, are you?”
“Fuck off, little brother, before I show Tim your toddler pictures.”
“Thanks, Jazz.”
“Bye, Danny. Don’t get killed again when I’m not there, got it?”
“Sure, sure.”
Danny smiled and returned to his agenda of stuffing as many vegetables into one meal as he can. At least the food isn’t trying to tear out his face.
——
Robin hasn’t heard the eerie giggles around lately, but he’s been practicing his own. It’s weird though, because there’s always a glint of something in the corner of his eyes.
“Robin, muggers.”
“On it, B. Shall we, Batgirl?”
“Let’s go, Boy Wonder.”
#Jazz Fenton#jazz fenton casually suggesting murder#danny phantom#batman#tim drake#dc x dp#dcxdp#bamf danny phantom#Danny phantom and the weird experience of being the youngest and the oldest sibling#squatter! Danny Fenton#danny: well I don’t wanna go home so I’ll just stay here#this was in my drafts for so long lmfao#inspired by that one post where Tim had to have those expensive and giant wildlife cameras#but I think they’d get the compact one#dick Grayson#barbara gordon#Robin#batgirl
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Melissa hated her feelings.
She buried them in a chest in the 5th grade (along with her ability to express them). Other peoples' feelings on the other hand was her forte. She could process, decipher and regurgitate other peoples emotions effortlessly. This gift could’ve taken her through college, all the way to a degree in psychology. Distinguished Dr. Jefferson with a PhD and a cozy office and impressive roster of high-profile, weallthy clients was a shiny idea. Fate would have a different hand for Melissa her talents were exhausted on mediating family fights, friend group drama, and charming her way out of confronting her own feelings.
“Feelings.” Even saying it out loud to herself seemed silly. Something reserved for ‘cry babies’ and water signs. Typical Sunday nights started tame, reading or writing fan-fiction and drinking cranapple juice. And then like clock work her father would yell her name,
‘MELISSA!!!’ Emotionless, she’d get up dust off her Winnie the Pooh shorts and make her way downstairs. On the long walk down the hall to the stairs leading to the living room brawl, she’d go through her check list:
1.) Don’t cry.
2.) Stay neutral; Deescalate
3.)Don’t take anything personal. This isn’t about you
She padded down the carpeted stairs in her old soft socks to see her mother tightlipped and tear streaked thinking,
‘she broke rule number 1’. Her father, Michael was proud and angry, his big belly filled with self righteousness. She knew he would be unyielding in his resolve and at this point her only option was to deescalate.
‘Rule number 2’. Then her sister the water sign and calamity for the evening sat on the floor nearly fetal, face red and raw with emotion.
‘Its not your fault’ Melissa wanted to say ‘You just didn’t follow the rules… you’re loved.’ But she couldn’t say that because she’d be breaking rule number 3. It wasn’t about how Melissa felt. Even though she felt like screaming,
“VANESSA, YOU DIDN’T DO ANYTHING WRONG. DAD—YOU JUST HAVE PENT UP ANGER BECAUSE YOU GREW UP IN THE HOOD OF DETROIT AS A BLACK MAN IN THE 60s AND 70s. YOU NEED A HEALTHY OUTLET LIKE.. I DONT KNOW… THERAPY?!?!?! THIS IS A WASTE OF ALL OF OUR TIME. I LITERALLY JUST WROTE THE BEST SAILOR SATURN x CHIBI USA FANFICTION EVER AND THIS IS KILLING MY VIBE!”
Instead, she decide to hear every one out. She decided to help. To calm her dragon of a father down. To be a translator for her emotional sister. To not take it personal. To stay neutral. To not cry.
9 years later, at her fathers funeral she still never broke the rules. She played her flute and spoke at his memorial. She was present for her mother because it wasn’t about her. When other peoples' emotions bubbled up she stayed neutral. She sat through both services and she did not cry. It wasn’t until she excused herself to make a phone call outside did she collapse onto the stairs of the funeral home and weep alone in the cold Detroit snow.
It’s okay to break the rules sometimes, she reminded herself. As long as no one else sees it.
Traumas began to compact on Melissa, as they do. Humans tend to collect traumas like pebbles on a long hike. We toss them into our backpacks and keep moving forward. Some hikers would falter, but Melissa was built for this. She’d carried the stones of her family’s traumas uphill for years. She was strong.
When men began to befriend and reject her, saying ‘you’re too good for me’ but not too good to make them feel good. She carried that.
When childhood friends began to cut off the strings of her heart, saying ‘We can’t be friends anymore’. She carried that.
When her family separated like dandelion seeds, it seemed like they’d never be together again. Melissa slept on so many couches, floors and car seats sometimes she didn’t know if she’d see them again.
She carried that.
Dying was never an option though sometimes she didn’t mind the thought of it. Peace and warmth were two things she’d desperately yearned and hadn’t felt fully since the womb. Then one night in the pitch black of the hot, sweaty, roach-infested studio in southeast Houston she slept in she wondered:
‘Why can’t I break the rules?’ She’d seen everyone else in her life break them like popsicle sticks. And she didn’t just want to break the rules, she wanted to break them boldly and loudly and annoyingly and honestly and sloppily like every one else gets to do. It was in that moment, tucked in a thin jacket inside of an 8-foot high instrument cubby in the inky darkness—it hit her.
‘Is my suffering for a high purpose? Or is my suffering trying to kill me?’
She cried.
She escalated.
She took it personal.
But it wasn’t enough. She wanted to scream in a microphone in a sea of shadowy faces. She drank whiskey and wove her pain into rock music.
‘Music is my boyfriend’ she declared. The only man that kept his baggage to hisself. And it healed her. It gave her voice reason and purpose.
The pebble-laden hike became lighter with time. The incline eventually evened out to flat, beautiful landscapes where the breeze finally met her back. She knew it wasn’t gonna be easy or sunshine but even the rain cleansed her and it was beautiful too.
Somewhere in the rain she decided rules were meant to be built and broken. Like trust and love and friendships and families. Because every thing deserves the opportunity to change and grow.
So... She broke rule number 1 on stage while singing a beautiful song. Dr. Jefferson (PhD) screamed for her to stop but she didn’t listen and the tears flowed like rivers of emotion down her cheeks.
Rule number 2 was broken when she grew older and saw the injustices of the world. Marching with hundreds in protest she realized not everything needs to be pacified.
And one day when she finally fell in love, she broke rule number 3. No matter how much training she’d done she couldn't help but take every thing her lover said and did personal. But it was ok. Because in all her resistance she realized breaking rules was her power.
Melissa began to fall for her feelings. Her feelings gave life purpose. They weren’t always logical, as feelings seldom are. They were sloppy and embarrassing and rude and so fucking uncomfortable. But they were hers. And they were real. And when she sat alone sipping wine, staring at the moon…They were the only ones still by her side. Ready to break the rules for her because they loved her.
And she finally loved them back.
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Kote’s House
Kote’s first house is a pathetic thing, and he is incurably proud of it. The twi’lek he purchased it from very evidently could not make up his mind what to do with a man that grinned while he haggled, but it was the first time Kote had haggled over a purchase of his very own. He had thoroughly enjoyed it.
The house is built for one being, and a compact being at that, but Kote doesn’t have much. Moving in is quick, and most of his efforts during the next few days after go into attempting ambitious repairs for things he doesn’t know the first thing about.
His plumbing is an issue, he knows. Something is getting blocked up. Somehow while trying to fix the kitchen tumbler, his fresher spout explodes.
He hadn’t kept his new house a secret from anyone by any means, but it is still surprising when Fox barges in through his jamming front door. He finds Kote on the floor in his cramped kitchen while the fresher rains water in the adjacent room, laughing so hard and so crippled with delight that he can’t get up.
He tries to explain how wonderful it is —
“I-I have to fix my plumbing on my own, vod—”
—but judging by Fox’s single raised eyebrow he knows it doesn’t translate.
Fox, it turns out, is moving into the neighborhood. Kote doesn’t ask about the house Fox already has — the house he has visited, which is very nice and fancy — or point out that Fox’s contract there cannot possibly be up, which begs the question of why he’s here in Kote’s neighborhood — except that Kote already knows the answer to that question. So he doesn’t ask.
Fox doesn’t show him any grace or forbearance, though.
“Don’t even know how to fix a damn pipe, front lining show-off—” His brother snarls, but it is muffled; his top half had to go down beneath the floor they’d pried up to get at the plumbing issue.
“So that’s what they had you doing all these years.” Kote says, because he really is in a criminally good mood. He barely ducks the foot-long pipe Fox throws at his head, feeling giddy.
He makes dinner that night in thanks. Fox stays, ostensibly because now that he’s fixed the fresher he intends to use it, because his new house isn’t hooked up properly yet to all the supply lines and power grids.
They choke on homemade tiingilar (vode-style; Kote can’t pretend at the real thing yet) so heavily spiced it’s got grit to it that sticks between the teeth. It’s disgusting, but Cody had bought fifteen different spices and while usually he likes to keep his approach to the unknown more cautious, more methodical, he couldn’t think of anything he wanted to do more than use them all at once for the first time.
Wolffe joins them not long after; brings a few others along by recommending the apartment he picks out, so that soon most of the complex is taken up by vode, Kote hears, but he doesn’t visit yet. Everyone’s too busy coming over to his house, it seems; filling up his kitchen and asking why he hasn’t fixed the trash disposal yet, why he doesn’t have a couch, doesn’t he know they’re all the rage among civilized folk?
Kote fixes the trash disposal with Rex, who is better at it than he is but says it’s only due to Skywalker’s influence on managing all things mechanical.
“How is Skywalker?” Kote asks, and gets more than he bargained for over the next hour. At first he’s a bit off-put, because he’s trying to get dinner sorted again and he’s not been very fond of Skywalker at the best of times, but Rex is snorting out a story and laughing and it’s contagious, so Kote just resigns himself and settles in to enjoy.
Skywalker has little ones, now. Obi-Wan is the only one that can get them to sleep. Ahsoka is distressed; she knows better, but every instinct in her is apparently in agony over the little ones’ inability to eat meat yet. She obsesses over nutrients in their diet — which, given what tiny natborn humans primarily ingest in the early stages, makes for some slightly awkward conversations.
Rex helps with dinner afterward, and they take turns being incredulous over natborn baby facts, shoving around one another in the tiny, uncomfortable kitchen.
“What’s your next project?” Rex asks at one point, glancing sidelong with a cheeky look, and Kote levels his vegetable knife at him (he’s got a vegetable knife. Specifically for vegetables. It’s a very new concept).
“I make everyone’s dinner on Tuangsdays.” He says. “I’m productive.”
Rex’s sharp-toothed grin turns thoughtful. “Yeah” He says. “Everyone loves coming here, you know. You could be the new 79’s.”
Kote knows. He plans and plots, and puts more work into researching recipes than he’s put into any research whatsoever in months. It feels a bit like coming out of a shore leave; his thoughts quicken and his excitement grows. He hunts down a market. He brings a bag. He shops, bargains, and returns victorious.
He sends out a few comms., and can’t help but shake his head and grin at how different the responses are.
What a marvelous idea, Cody. His general — ex-general — says.
Yus pls, Ahsoka sends back, with some sort of strange tooka vidclip that dances with wiggly gyrations Kote can only assume indicate excitement.
Where is your house, Anakin says, blunt and to the point, and Kote can appreciate that.
He sends the address. He cooks all day. The sun sets, and Fox and Wolffe arrive, already bickering, Rex trailing behind with a long-suffering look sent to Kote, begging commiseration.
“Ugh, don’t you ever stop smiling, now?” He gripes when Kote just grins at him.
“Nope,” Kote says, unrepentantly.
He leaves the soup on the stove, simmering, and takes his cup of caf to the window. He leans on it, breathing in cool air, and just listens — listens to the squabbling as Wolffe gets on Fox’s case for not washing Kote’s dishes correctly the last time they visited. Hears the soft thumps of Rex sneaking into the cramped room Kote has set aside for plants and the sole pet he has; a pastel goullian, fins swaying ever so gently, permanent scowl in place. Thinks he catches, distantly, the sound of his remaining three guests (Padme couldn’t attend, and had made him feel very awkward by how thoughtfully she apologized for it) plodding up the hill.
“Cody!” Ahsoka cries, coming into view and waving.
Kote’s cheeks have stopped aching from all the smiling he’s gotten used to, so it’s easy to let another through.
#fan art#artists on tumblr#star wars fanart#star wars: the clone wars#fix it au#captain rex#commander cody#commander fox#commander wolffe#obi wan kenobi#anakin skywalker#ahsoka#After The War Fluff#Get you some vod that can do plumbing and make fun of your trash disposal unit#OmPu Writes: Snippet#just-typed-this-out-and-it-shows#Kote was grinning like a shark while haggling#It was terrifying#This man waged wars and he cannot wait to utilize every tactical skill he learned in that endeavor on one (1) twi’lek to negotiate the sale#-of a fix-er-upper he was going to buy anyway#First time trying this art style#Star Wars fanfic
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i need a longer blurb of jj teaching reader how to smoke 🙏🏻 possible shotgunning
i was hoping someone would ask teehee ♡
suggestive themes down below, mentions of weed etc
jj cringes at himself as he taps the cracked screen of his iphone, hitting play on the spotify playlist titled simply with the leaf emoji — a subtle and yet juvenile nod to it being his smoking playlist. what kind of nerd actually has a playlist made and ready to hit play when hanging out with a pretty girl, he thinks — cheeks a little red under the dim light. his shitty speaker hiccups and splutters before playing the music smoothly, just as he comes to drop down beside you on the comfy old couch.
“anyway, fuck uh— i don’t remember. it doesn’t matter.” he waves a hand, pushing his heels into the ground to lift up his hips so he can pull the rolled J out his back pocket.
“your concentration is terrible.” you tease with a giggle, legs tucked beneath you. he recalls you looking particularly adorable in that moment, and his brain malfunctions for a second as he looks at you before he forces out a response.
“uh�� yeah — i got that letter thing.”
“adhd?”
“thats the one.” he presses his fingers tightly around the compact J before patting his front pockets for a lighter. “you smoke?”
it was the first time you’d had the privilege of hanging out with just JJ alone. you were sarah’s friend, and had tagged along with her to a few pogue hangouts when she’d started dating john b. you all seemed to get on well as a group, and you were pretty meek and shy most of the time — which they found pretty endearing, so they kept you around. you were harmless, and brought an oddly charming sense of innocence to their reckless and vulgar world. you’d started harbouring a little crush on JJ since you’d met, all smiles and doe eyes whenever he was up to his usual nonsense. he was loud and untameable, but always made an effort to behave around you. the special attention made you melt.
“JJ you’re yelling.” pope would accuse and the blonde would hold his hands up.
“sorry.” he’d apologise before turning specifically to you. “sorry. those pretty ears. shouldn’t be hearing that.” he waves it off and continues with whatever rant he was on, but your smile doesn’t go away for like 2 minutes.
his effort didn’t go unnoticed by the pogues, and since you weren’t technically a pogue yourself — and it wouldn’t be breaking any pogue rules, john b and sarah specifically had encouraged the two of you to hang out alone, leaving JJ the keys to the chateau. it made total sense to them, john b desperately wanted jj to be happy (and to get some, from a nice girl.) and sarah was enthralled by the idea of double dates based off ideas she’d tucked into a pinterest board. whilst the blonde was infamous for making bad decisions, he wouldn’t let turning down alone time with a pretty girl be another on his extensive track record.
you eye him where he sits beside you on the small cushy couch, shifting a little — springs clinking beneath you suggesting it may have been a pull out bed. “i’ve never… i haven’t done it before.” you shrug, embarrassed. you envied the pogues in that way, whilst you’d been sheltered your whole life up into adulthood, they’d been able to explore themselves and figure out what they like.
his eyes widen a little and his mouth forms a surprised little ‘o’ shape, before nodding quickly and stuffing the J back into his pocket.
“what are you doing?” your brows furrow.
“don’t wanna make you feel weird, if i smoke ‘n stuff.” he waves a hand dismissively and you shake your head with wide eyes, sitting up a little in your seat.
“oh, no i don’t mind! don’t let me stop you.” you smile as reassuringly as you can. he looks at you for a moment, fixing his hat on his head before pausing a little and turning more toward you.
“totally shoot me down if you don’t wanna but…” he pulls the J back out, slowly and cautiously like it’ll scare you if he moves too fast. “you down to learn? heard i’m quite the teacher.” he smirks, but there’s a friendly twinkle behind his eyes that just makes him so approachable and non-intimidating that you feel completely safe.
“m’kay, yeah, i’ve always wanted to know what it feels like.” your voice is soft behind your wide smile and he wants to slap himself for staring at you for so long.
“alright, that’s the spirit.” he mirrors your grin, tossing his lighter in the air and catching it.
“i didn’t know smoking was something that needed to be taught.” you comment, shuffling a little downward so you can lean against the couch more— getting as comfortable as you can in your sweet little sundress. you were sat so close now you could feel his body heat radiating onto you, and it was doing something crazy to your stomach. that, and the way he looked, manspreading casually on the couch, white tee and black sweatpants, frowning in concentration as he presses the joint between his lips, holding a flame to the end of it until it glows and then shaking out the flame.
registering your words, he sends you a little face of mock offence that makes you giggle. he inhales deep and holds the smoke in his lungs, voice strained when he responds. “nah, this shit is an art form. ‘course it can be taught.” exhale. you find you’re holding your breath too.
“yeah this’ll be good for your first time, asked my guy for somethin’ weaker cos’ i didn’t want you to think i was bein’ a weirdo or whatever, smoking you out with the strong stuff so i can be creepy. i know some guys do that.” he rambles before taking another shorter toke, brows creased as he concentrates on his mini review.
“you bought weed especially for hanging out with me?” you smile kindly and he gapes for a millisecond, holding the J between his fingers and he blinks, caught out.
“yeah.” he shrugs. “s’like buying you flowers. but better.” he shuffles closer to you on the seat. before you have time to overthink the flowers comment, he’s carefully holding the joint to your lips, his own eyes wide and already a little glossy.
“i’m nervous.” you giggle, briefly holding his hovering wrist to stabilise you both.
“hey, you’re in good hands i swear, i’ll look after you.” he promises, free hand cupping your cheek with a teasing but far from unkind expression. “you’re my little baby tonight.” it was made to be a joke but your stomach does a little somersault.
“‘kay.” your lips brush the tip of the J and he has to force himself not to think something inappropriate.
“what i want you to do is breathe in and then hold it, ‘kay?” he instructs and you do so, eyes looking to him for guidance. it burns and tickles your throat at the same time but it’s not awful, you don’t even cough. maybe this is rare, because he grins when you squint— holding it in your chest. “atta girl! see, you’re born for this. breathe out for me.” his voice is closer, and therefore quieter, more intimate. you’re a lightweight by nature, so by your second toke the delay starts to unwind and you start feeling a buzz.
sativa by jhené aiko starts to play through the cheap speaker by the time you’re really feeling it. he’s talking to you the whole time, talking you through it, praising you. your whole body feels hot and you revel in the euphoria of feeling so safe and comfortable in someone’s presence. you lean against his shoulder a little, giggling over a little anecdote he told you about his day with pope.
he’s grinning with pretty pink eyes, turning to look down at you, really look at you close up. his heart stammers because you’re so damn beautiful and he nearly chokes on smoke. that would have been embarrassing.
“you’re cute.” he lifts his cap for a second, running a hand through his hair and you tilt your head, joint still clasped between your fingers.
“really?”
“totally. i’d complain about anyone else getting lipgloss on the joint, but you’re cute so you’re allowed.” he jokes and you’re off again, leaning more into him as you chortle. his arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you closer until your head rests against him. he looks down at you, a warm smile bordering on chuckle spreading across his face at the way you’re gazing up at him like he hung the moon and stars for you. “y’wanna learn something else?” he offers and you’re slow, but eager— eyes widening hazily and nodding clumsily.
“alright. y’trust me, yeah?” he adjusts his position a little.
“mhm, yeah i do JJ.” you’re all dazed and openly crushing. he seems pretty into it and you’re glad, because someone a little meaner might find it pathetic.
he takes your hand holding the joint and brings your fingers that clasp it to his lips, where he then takes a hit. his palms encase your jaw, pulling your face to his. he pulls ever so slightly, so your mouth gapes before he’s breathing the smoke slowly into your mouth. your heart hammers, and your hands are frozen but you get the hint and inhale, feeling the second hand burn. you open your eyes, not remembering having closed them and he’s staring at you— and you don’t get the chance to pull away because he’s closing the gap again and pressing his lips fully to yours.
you let out a quiet moan at the surprise, the sound from your throat a lot more vulgar than intended and he pulls back after a moment, eyes flickering between yours.
“sorry.”
“dont be. i wanna do it again. can we?”
“the smoking thing or the…” he trails off as you lean in slowly, a curious and sweet expression tainted with a glossy haze of intoxication and lust. you’d never been like this before with anyone, hell— you’d never felt like this.
you press your lips to his, kissing him simply before pulling back. your brows pinch together and be bites back a smile, thumbing at your cheekbone.
“wh’sthe matter?” he whispers.
“there’s more you need to teach me.” you bat your eyelashes at him and he feels himself wake up from the waist down, subtly adjusting himself.
“well we got all night.” he teases before leaning in, this time his mouth taking the lead. the joint is put out and forgotten about as he presses an open mouthed kiss to your swollen lips. “didn’t i say i was a good teacher?”
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𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ ❛ THE BLOOD PAINTER — 画家 , CHOSO KAMO
·.⌇ 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓. art; it’s a beautiful thing…when you know what you’re doing...and when the cute artsy guy who’s now your class partner is smart. wc, 2.47K. dark mode recommended.
note. i love this story ya. i was thinking about it alll day. i’m glad ya like it too. hope ya enjoy :D reblog to support meeee and lmk if you wanna be tagged in the next part
tags. artist!choso, college AU, possible nsfw, female anatomy, smoking, etc. lmk if i missed anything
misc. masterlist AO3 PART ONE
your chest tightened once you heard the words ‘get with your partners’. you reacted never positively with that statement. you dreaded working with other students in your class. the art professor had everyone paired up with a random student, to which they’d let it be known that the two of you would be partners for the rest of the semester. you had been lucky enough to be tied down with the smartass of the class…choso kamo.
you had a confused expression on your face while you seen him in complete awe at the art pieces that flashed on the terribly detailed and wordy powerpoint. you were surprised you hadn’t slammed your head against the table trying not to fall asleep.
reluctantly pulling out the cute and compact pencil case you bought last minute from shein, you grab the simple navy blue mechanical pencil out that you had been given by choso. you were trying to give it back to him previously but he insisted that you kept it, assuming that you might need it later on down the road.
you didn’t expect any less from the smartest guy in your class when you saw him already halfway done with his assignment. maybe you were exaggerating at the moment because these were basic questions just to see if you were paying attention to the powerpoint—which you barely were.
“ah, sorry, i forgot we were working together.” choso’s deep voice echos through your brain as he speaks to you, stopping his quick paced writing to let you catch up. you noticed how shy he seemed, despite his pure confidence when answering questions. choso pushed his paper in your direction and looked away, giving you time to work.
as you write, giving the male a friendly smile so he didn’t feel intimidated by your bored expression because of how tired you were, you couldn’t help but notice how his silver rings gently tapped against the wooden table. the bandaids that decorated his slender fingers on the digits that didn’t have rings. the bandage over his nose along with one stuck to his cheek. the one that covered one specific part on his wrist.
what the hell did have have so many bandages for? was he that reckless of a person that he was always getting hurt…or was this all a fashion statement? you wouldn’t be shocked if it was just for fashion. a lot of people do that, so you couldn’t judge. you’d watch as he’d adjust the nose piercing in his nose and then guide his palm into his hair, lightly scratching his head.
“here,” you push his paper back in his direction and thank him for showing the answers. the two of you finally get on track and finish your work and turn your papers into the box that reads ‘homework’ in black sharpie.
since you and choso would be partners for the rest of the semester, it was a good opportunity to get to know him as time passed….and it was also because your professor suggested that you do so.
placing your elbow on the table and your chin in your palm, you’d face your attention over to the artsy boy, who now had a small sketchbook in his possession, lightly marking the paper with his pencil, only to finally add details slightly darker.
“um…so, choso, right?” you start. the tip of his pencil snaps as he flinched upon hearing his own name. the male turned to you as his thumb lightly punched the end of his pencil to replace the broken lead.
“yeah…that’s me.” he finally replies, his eyes averting another way. he seemed to have a hard time making eye contact with you. his expression was calm and stoic. something you never seen before. “did you need something?”
“well, you know we’re partners for the semester so…what’s your hobbies?” you were damn near dying of cringe at the moment. it wasn’t the fact that you were talking to this super smart and creative guy. it was because you hardly knew how to start conversations. mentally, you curse your inability to normally interact in public.
“um..well, i’m kind of an artist. i mean, i consider myself one. i like taking pictures on the polaroid i got for christmas one year…and uh—i read a lot.” choso explains. he seemed like the typical smart guy with creative qualities and a bit shy.
“oh, that’s cool. that explains why you’re in this class.” you say. you noticed that choso would give you a faint smile, something different from his stoic demeanor.
“mhm…well, what about you?” choso queries. you bite your lip. you knew the question would come soon but not that soon. you were thinking that he’d elaborate on how much he loved his hobbies, giving you time to think of what you were gonna say yourself.
you take a breath before finally introducing yourself properly. you quietly say your name, followed by your interests and some other unnecessary details that no one asked for but you were nervous. nothing wrong with that.
choso seemed pretty attentive when you were nervously rambling about whatever came to your head. giving his input on some of the things you mentioned also. you seen choso’s eyebrows raise up when you mentioned the concept of being interested in painting, though he didn’t say anything else about it.
it was time for photography class now and choso’s first project was coming up. that wasn’t an issue for him since this was something he was heavily interested in.
reading the instructions on the paper in his mind, the little voice in his head speaking for him, he saw that he had to make a scrapbook with brand new pictures that reveal something about him.
something like a self portrait but without the drawing and the excessive erasing whenever something turns out ugly.
“that sounds like a cool project. hey, take a pic of me right now,” yuji smiled, posing into the camera. but choso shook his head.
“i’ll come by this weekend and we’ll take some pictures. i want you to be clear and in front of the camera. not goofy and pixelated.” the male replied, making yuji laugh.
“i won’t be pixelated—maybe your wifi sucks.”
“i will admit, my internet does go in and out sometimes. it’s very frustrating…but i get around.” choso leaned his back against the pillow, his head gently resting against the wall behind the bed.
“how are the others? are they well?”
“eso and kechizu are outside,” yuji would back away from the camera to look out of the window, which gave him a view of the front yard and the surrounding houses.
“they’re playing with the frisbee.”
“i’m glad they’re doing fine. have you three eaten anything?”
yuji hummed, “i wanted to try cooking but i didn’t wanna burn the place down so we’re getting takeout at that buffet you took us to back in the summer.”
“don’t touch the stove unless i’m there. i really don’t want you hurting yourself or anyone else for that matter.”
as choso and yuji’s conversation prolonged, choso began working on some homework that he had from his english and math class. yellow tinted lights surrounded choso as he used a small remote and flick on his fairy lights and his attention was focused back onto the paper, his pencil scratching lightly against it while he used his binder for support.
the next day was an off day so choso decided that he’d take a walk to the cafeteria and get breakfast. holding his backpack firmly against his back, he’d walk into the large area. the male was being casual and chose to wear a grey sweatshirt and a pair of joggers with his hair tied back into a ponytail, leaving some of his hair hanging down in the back and in his face as usual.
sneakers lightly clicking against the tiled flooring of the cafeteria, choso would grab some plasticware and a plate and he’d pick out what he wanted to eat, which were two fluffy pancakes, eggs, and two sausages. he was slightly disappointed that there weren’t any bacon that day but there was always next time.
choso wasn’t really a coffee guy but it was that or be stuck with drinking tea or water—out of everything he preferred water but he was getting older and it was about time he’d try something new.
the male was in his own world, finishing some work that he fell asleep doing the night before and reluctantly sipping the coffee. he already knew his stomach would be gurgling the entire day because of it. or because of the fact that he hated the taste so bad that he was able to force his body to reject it.
soon enough, he saw a figure situate themselves beside him. pausing his music to see who had been sitting near him, his heart nearly bursted out of his chest when he found you. a lump in his throat formed when you gave a gentle smile and waved at him.
“hey, how come you’re sitting by yourself?” you ask him as you began to eat your breakfast. you had the same items on your plate but what was different was the fact that you had some chocolate milk with you. not the drinks that the school offered. it was making him wonder where you got the carton of milk from.
“ah, i just needed time to myself. i have so much stuff to catch up on. i have to schedule a train back home to visit my brothers this weekend and my photography class is starting a project so i have to start that. i also need to be preparing for my chemistry and algebra tests.” choso explained to you in a frenzied tone. you wanted to giggle at how quick he was speaking. not to insult him but you thought it was funny how panicked he sounded.
“shit, you already have tests? your teachers must be pretty serious about their work—or they just wanna get the topics out of the way.” you take a sip of your milk. choso nods, wrapping his index finger around one of the loose strands of his ink colored hair.
“you don’t? no fair.” choso chuckled. “well, you might’ve picked some easier classes than i had. you don’t strike me as a girl that enjoys the concept of extended education.”
the comment caught you off guard but he was right. you didn’t look like the typical college girl, nor did you look like you particularly enjoyed coming to class. you were just there because you were told to go. you were just happy to find something that made you happy.
“i didn’t wanna be here at first but i got used to it.” you’d take a bite of your sausage and quickly chew it before speaking again. “my parents were insistent on me coming to college. even after i said that i didn’t wanna go, they forced me anyway. back in high school i found myself signing up for FAFSAs and all that fun stuff.”
“oh, so you don’t actually pay out pocket to come here?” he queried. “that’s good, you won’t be in debt and you won’t have to pay anything back.”
“what about you?”
“no, i’m in the same situation as you. i’ve just become keen to people not making the best choices when it came to schooling.” choso replied as he’d close his laptop, finally finishing the study guide that he was given from his chemistry class.
he spoke so proper and sophisticated. talking to him made you think you were talking to a counselor. his voice was deep but smooth like butter. somehow, he made you feel safe even though you didn’t know him very well.
you noticed how simple his clothes were compared to when he came to class or when you saw him leaving school grounds to head back into the city for who knows what. he was always well kept. even in his lazy clothes.
the cologne he wore had a smell that you knew would stick in your mind and in the memory of your nostrils for a long while. if you ever smelled it somewhere else, it’ll instantly remind you of him.
when the two of you finished your breakfast, you were about to get up and throw your plate out when choso gently took it from your hands.
“i’ll take it,” he said softly, taking the plate and stacking it on top of his. your cheeks flushed a bit when you felt his large hand brush against yours.
his skin was soft as if he exfoliated himself everyday and it had a warm, comforting sense to it. when he walked away, you started to wish he stayed there and just held onto your hand for an extra moment.
the weekend came around and choso was making his was off of the train and heading back home. once he arrived, he was barraged with greetings and yuji throwing himself into choso’s chest.
“how’s your classes?” eso queries.
“it’s—hm…well i can’t say they’re boring because i love my classes. but some can be tedious or annoying. like math. the moment i get the hang of one topic, we’re already moving on to the next. then i’ll have something new to learn.” choso replied. “and you three?”
“me and megumi hung out.” yuji said excitedly. “and then gojo sensei took us to this movie. it was so cool but megumi didn’t like it. he said it was stupid.”
“your idea of “cool” is definitely interesting.” eso chimed in.
“was it another worm movie?” choso slipped his shoes off and gently placed them on the shoe rack. yuji twisted his lips upward.
“it was not….it was a bug movie. it was about this roach that wanted to be as big as a spider. and guess what? huge spoiler; the roach got big. and i mean huge.”
“very interesting, itadori.” choso chuckled, seeming a bit amused by yuji’s odd adventures. “i’m sure the movie was good—maybe. i don’t know. your choice of movies are actually weird.”
“my choices are not weird.” yuji pouted. “you watch probably romance movies all the time…um—not that that’s a bad thing. but you still probably do.”
“if you knew me, you’d know that i’m not interested in those. they’re kinda cheesy. i’ll settle for romcoms. other than that, i watch horror and mystery.”
“yeah, you’re totally an old man.”
“i’m only nineteen….”
ending notes. IM SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONGGGG i’ve made like six apologies about this but yk i just don’t want ya thinking i’m neglecting this story cuz i like this more than anything i’ve ever made. headcanons are next and MAYBE street racer choso because it just popped in my head this morning. excuse any mistakes if i’ve made any. i apologizeeee. remember, comments and reblogs are much appreciated and thank you for reading.
© EXORSIIAN | © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
#jujutsu kaisen#𝐾𝑂𝑇𝐴 𝑊𝑅𝐼𝑇𝐸𝑆 書く#anime#jjk#choso kamo#jujutsu kaisen choso#jjk x reader#jjk choso#choso x black!reader#choso x reader#gojo x y/n#gojo x black reader#jujutsu gojo#gojo smut#gojo x reader#jjk gojo#geto fanfic#jujutsu geto#geto x you#geto fluff#getou suguru x reader#jjk geto
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Punch Drunk Love!
Summary: You came back to hawkins for one thing and one thing only (or so you think), Eddie munson. Ex boyfriend, the love you left behind and never got over. You want him back. Obstacles? Damn them all.
Pairing: Eddie x reader. Steve x reader. Steddie x reader. Slight Steve x Eddie.
Word count: 18k
Cw: Toxic!reader, kinda codependent relationship dynamics, CHEATING, SMUT 18+. Poly dynamics, mean dom!eddie, soft!dom eddie, handcuffs, switch!steve. Brat!reader, facefucking, creampies, mutual masturbatiom.
A/n: s/o to @snowflakeicicles for basically cowriting this with me <3
Steve groans as their manager sets another box of movies on the counter, telling them they needed to be stocked by the end of the night or they’d be in trouble; he reflects duly on how he and Robin need to get new jobs.
He sighs as he turns towards Robin, already in the process of using a box cutter to tear the thing open.
“What if we just quit? Like totally up and left? Still think that’s an option?” He knows he’s not gonna get the answer he wants when he sees the look she’s giving him and nods, turning again before stopping in his tracks.
“Aye — wait, look,” He beckons her over, voice a whisper yell as he points outside the window, “Is that who I think it is or am I going insane?”
"Quit being a drama queen, your hair will start graying and then what would all the girls of hawkins do? Breathe a sigh of relief, probably, now that i think about it."
robins jest has no bite to it. She just loves to pick at him. The guy really did never stop complaining, you'd think he was a teenage diva and not a twenty something man.
She peeks over her magazine at his words, glancing out the doors. Her eyebrows shoot up to her hairline.
"That can't be them. It's a mirage."
Inside the car outside you check your pouty red lips in your compact mirror before clapping it shut, pocketing the item and looping your arm through your friends.
Your grin is big and toothy, shiny lips spreading. "I hope we see someone we know — This town hasn't changed a wink, hun, they needed us to spice it up." You bounce on your toes as you enter the store. "Lets get top gun. I miss-"
You pause when you see robin, who you just barely know and Steve harrington. So he really peaked in high-school then? You drop your friend's arm in favor of approaching your former friend and leaning your hip against the counter next to him, already smirking.
"Well, well. I see being prom king didn't do you any favors, harrington. Miss me?"
Steve has to keep himself from sputtering when he sees you, swallowing thickly. Had you gotten even prettier? That was so fucked up.
He rolls his eyes as you saunter towards him, offering a quick wave to your friend before he’s focusing his attention on the girl about to antagonize him.
“Ah, how couldn’t I? You know, my heart ached to let you go, really, I’ve been so lonely without the barrage of insults from my favorite girl.”
He says it dramatically, almost as if he was wounded, clutching his heart — before he’s raising an eyebrow, leaning forward over the counter, “What brings you back, anyway?”
You giggled at steve's dramatics, rolling your eyes and poking his chest.
"You like my insults, stevie. They always kept you humble." You dug in your purse to pull out a juicy fruit, popping one in your mouth as you held another one out to him. This had been your thing in high-school — you offering Steve your gum, or whatever treat you'd had on you.
"Here. I'm here for summer break! I was feeling homesick, ya know? Plus I've seen everything there is to see over there. What's new around here anyway?"
Steve chuckles, watching you pop the gum into your mouth and cursing himself for how his heart races.
You had always been — enchanting would probably be the right word, irritatingly beautiful a better phrase. You're easy to be infatuated with and Steve knows it, but he’d told himself a long time ago he wouldn’t be involved lest you break his heart too.
He nods as he grabs a piece, shrugging while he pops it between his lips, “Homesick for Hawkins? Seems like college is rough on you, then—“
“Oh, not much. Everyone’s still hanging out, you know, the usual — we haven’t been seeing much of Munson, though—“ He pauses before saying his next words, wary to set you off but going ahead anyway, “Fucker got a girlfriend, can you believe it? We never see him anymore.”
You pause mid chew and mid checking out steve's newly defined muscles. Where'd those come from, anyway? your gaze snaps back up to meet his, straightening up.
"Girlfriend. Eddie has a girlfriend? You know what? Don't answer that. I'll find out myself."
Images of eddies skin on yours fill your mind, late nights spent in his trailer, him teaching you how to shot gun, ditching class to kiss in the woods, his reverent brown eyes looking up at you, 'you're it for me, baby.' his words flow through you.
It wasn't your place to be enraged right now. You'd left eddie as soon as you'd gotten accepted into the college of your dreams, refusing to settle in this town, and breaking eddies heart in the process. But they had been soulmates. Sure you'd fucked around since then, but an actual relationship? Going steady? Never.
You were going to kill her. Kill whoever that bitch was and then strangle eddie munson for ever thinking he could replace you when you had always planned to come back for him. Impatient fuck. Over your dead body would be move on.
You turned sharply.
"Stevie, we'll have to talk some time, really. I just need to see something real quick."
Steve blinks, watching your entire demeanor change and realizing that maybe, just maybe, telling you that was the worst idea he’s ever had.
He knew about your and Eddie’s history — hell, everyone did, you were one of the oddest power couples their school had ever had. But when you broke up with him, Eddie was heartbroken, and Steve thought you had completely left the guy in the dust.
Which is why him getting over you seemed like a good thing. At the time.
Steve watches the two girls leave, anger nearly radiating off one of them, and he turns to Robin with his mouth slightly agape, “We should be concerned, shouldn’t we?”
She blinks.
"About what?"
The bells above the door jingle as you walk in, your sweet perfume wafting through the air as you scan the crowd. Your eyes immediately find him. You stand there for a moment just staring.
He looks so different and yet so the same. Dark clothes, dark hair, but his jaw is sharper, he stands with more confidence in his posture. He's at the bar, clearly just done with performing a set, his hair a wild mess, strands sticking to his forehead, grin wild.
your lips part and you start toward him, pausing when some blonde cretin flies in front of you and throws herself onto Eddie. Your Eddie. She squeals and you feel your eye twitch as Eddie's smile goes warm and his arms wrap around the hussy.
The girlfriend. Right. You tap your nails on the bar, loudly enough so they'll both hear and stop being disgusting.
"I see you've finally acquired rockstar groupie status, eds." your eyes flit to the girl when you say groupie. "Congratulations."
Eddie feels like he’s on top of the world. His band has finally started playing more gigs, and he’s finally starting to get noticed. Getting older has given him confidence, and his heart feels like it’s finally on the mend.
Sure, maybe he wasn’t the happiest with his girlfriend — You would always be on the back of his mind, poking at his brain like a thought he just couldn’t shake.
But you had made it clear you didn’t want him anymore, so who was he to deny you? He’d gone through a really rough patch, and so that’s why seeing you feels like he got punched in the gut.
The sight of you makes the whole world fall apart, and suddenly he’s realizing maybe he didn’t do a great job of getting over you.
He coughs, though, offering you a warm smile and a chuckle, even as his girlfriend’s grip gets tighter around him, “Ah, no, this is actually my girlfriend — Stella, Y/n, Y/n, Stella. When did you, uh — when did you get back in town?”
"So I heard."
You barely stop your eyes from rolling, waving down the bartender for a drink. With a strawberry around the rim. When he slides one to you, you turn back to the pair- gag- and pop the berry into your mouth, biting into half of it.
"I got back a few days ago. Stevie told me you got yourself a new girl. Sandra was it?" You knew it was stella. Remembered the girl from high-school as the twat who was always ogling Eddie but running the other direction whenever you'd caught her staring. So she'd made your move, huh? Bitch.
Stella sneered at you as she snuggled closer to Eddie with her leech arms and you hopped onto a barstool, crossing your legs.
"Is this what you've been doing while I was away? I wasn't here for the full set but you look really good, eddie. I remember when it was just those 5 drunks and me at your shows. Good job, babe."
Eddie’s eyes widen as he takes you in, the hand wrapped around Stella’s waist loosening ever-so-slightly the more you lean into him.
Why was he even talking to you? He should go, take Stella and go home and try to not think about the fact that he’s never truly gotten over the girl in front of him. But that’s the coward’s way out.
Stevie. God, he was going to kick Harrington’s ass next time he saw him, “Did he? I’m sure you’ve had your fair share of relationships too, babe.“
Stella glares at you from her place on Eddie’s side, and Eddie wishes he was more oblivious to it than he actually was. Stella had always asked what would happen if you came back — looks like they were going to find out.
He chuckles, a big ringed hand coming up to rub at the nape of his neck, “Well, gee, thanks — really, I'm grateful for how we’ve come up the past few months, all of us — what about you, though? Why're you back all of a sudden?”
"Are you the Hawkins border patrol? Maybe I missed the scenery. Or the people."
You say the last part with feeling, meeting eddies dark eyes head on. You move your hair to one side of your neck so the tattoo Eddie had given you your junior year together shows. It's an image of two hearts, connected together by the stem of a rose, the thorns making the hearts bleed. It was supposed to represent how intense you made each other feel. How even though you made each other bleed with want and how you couldn't be apart. No matter what.
"Do you still play D&D? I've actually gotten really good at it. I could probably play a game with you and not even cheat! I'm still chaotic evil, though."
You smile at him, your feet kicking, talking to him like no time has passed and like Stella isn't even there. To you, she isn't.
"You proud?"
“You, missing anything about this place? Sorry, but that’s the biggest bullshit i’ve ever heard."
His heart skips a beat and his words trail off when he sees the tattoo on your neck, bottom lip being pulled between his teeth. He remembers giving you that, remembers telling you it was a symbol that would stay forever, just like he would.
And he did think that. Part of him is angry, wants you to recognize that the fact that they’re not together right now isn’t his fault. But he tries to keep it together stupidly, even as the girl next to him decides to speak up.
“Oh, you play that nerd game, too? He keeps trying to get me to play it and it really doesn’t seem all that fun. He’s so cute when he’s into it, though, huh?”
Eddie’s desperately trying to steer the conversation away from this, because suddenly he’s remembering how truly chaotic evil you are and he knows that you can be a real fucking menace if you want to be.
“And, haha — yeah, ‘course i’m proud, though I doubt you don’t cheat.”
You wince at his tone, hearing the bitterness in it. Your last meeting....hadn't been sunshine and rainbows. You'd left him heartbroken and standing in the rain after a screaming match where you confessed to feeling suffocated by this town. So yeah, you guessed it was stupid to believe he'd fall for your missing this place. You'd missed him, though.
Your eyes glide to stellas with disdain. God, her voice was grating. Like chalk on a chalkboard. Screetchy. "He is, isn't he? Just the cutest."
You take a long sip from your drink, red lips wrapped around your straw more provocative than needed. You hum around the straw and kick your foot out playfully to knock against his shin. You keep your foot there, though, against his ankle. Cry about it, stella.
"Cheating isn't so bad, Eddie, I keep telling you. The sooner you come to the dark side, the better, hm? S'fun over here."
It seems that your last words are enough for Stella and she's letting out a huff, hitting Eddie’s arm with her bag before she stomps away.
“Wait, babe —“ Eddie tries to call after her, sighing as he sees her walk out the door of the bar.
He turns to you with a disappointed look on his face, doe eyes more defeated than angry. He seems like he deflates, rubbing at his temples with one hand. Why do you have to keep doing this to him?
He turns to the bartender, sighing, “Put whatever she gets on my tab. Don’t let her go overboard.”
Then he’s turning to you again, shaking his head and pointing to the door, “I’m — im going to fix — that — and then you’re going to come over later and get all the shit you left at my place, okay?”
His voice nearly cracks but he takes a deep breath, trying to stay calm, “You can’t do that shit, — god.” And then he’s running out of the bar, probably to console the crying girlfriend that had just ran out.
Your baby blue chunky boots clunked up the steps to eddie's trailer. You blew your bubblegum into a bubble as you knocked on his door, popping it as soon as it swung open to reveal the man.
You chewed the juicy fruit and smiled at him sweetly, the guilt you felt for being a cunt earlier all gone. You had a game plan now. You'd make him forgive you. "Hey, eds. M'here to 'get my shit', i think is how you put it?"
You don't wait for his reply, stepping up, knowing your proximity would make him back up, and slip inside the trailer, knowing the way to his room by heart. He still had the same posters, same guitar strung up, same bed frame. And- You smirked, walking forward and holding up his prized handcuffs with one finger.
"You still have these? So sentimental. I missed these things, you know. Who knew people in the city could be so vanilla? Tragic, honestly." You shook the cuffs at him, teasing. You were getting a kick out of frustrating him. It would make it so much better when you made him snap.
He grimaces when he opens the door to his trailer, eyes trailing over you with a tight frown pulling at his lips.
You looked perfect, of course you did — you always fucking did, and he swears it was gonna get the best of him one day. He just hoped it wouldn’t be now.
“Yes, of course, come in, make yourself at home—“ He gestures to the inside of his trailer dramatically, heaving a big sigh as he does.
He follows you throughout the place and rolls his eyes at your comments, arms crossed as his eyes trail over you, “Yeah, Stella likes em too—“ Part of him knows he shouldn’t be saying that, but he swears only you can bring out this vengeful side of him.
“Why're you doing this, huh? Why now?”
You feel your eye twitch like an insane person at the mention of eddie using these with stella, dropping the cuffs like they'd caught on fire with a disdainful look. So he wasn't going to play nice? Neither were you then.
"Isn't it obvious, eddie bear? I want you back." You say it lightly, like it's no big deal. You mean it though, wholly and truly. You move around him again to perch on his bed and cross your legs. "I missed you."
You flick your eyes around the room, almost like you're bored but really because you hate being vulnerable, even now. You wanted him back because you loved him and never stopped but there was a small part of you that feared maybe this wouldn't work. Maybe he'd break your heart this time around.
"Where's all my stuff anyway? Do you have it all in some lockbox you look back to on dark nights when you're all alone and feeling lonely. And horny."
Eddie nods, trying not to let his surprise show. Of course he knew that was the case, but he didn’t expect you to admit it so quickly.
“So what’s your game plan here, then, hm?" His voice is shaky, trying not to think back on how broken he’d felt when you left. How he truly felt like he’d never get you back, “You get to fuck up my heart, leave and come back to me when you’ve had your fill of the city? That it?”
He sees right through you, something that he knows you must realize. That’s why when he walks over to his closet, grabbing a lockbox from the top shelf and setting it in front of you on his desk, he knows the frown on your face is genuine.
“Yeah, actually, I did. Looked at it every night for the past year and cried, barely stopped — you know you can be vulnerable, you know. I see through the joking act.”
You don't like how he's acting. Sure you didn't expect a warm welcome or for him to open his arms for you immediately, but your Eddie had never been mean. Not to you. Not ever. When he sets the lockbox down you frown, scowling really. At him and at yourself. You feel the pinpricks of self hatred that you'd made him cry over you.
But you aren't giving up. "Of course you do. You always knew me so well, eddie. Better than anyone ever could. Better than anyone ever will, probably." Maybe a sentimental and honest approach will work to open him up to you. You can give a little.
Reaching towards the lockbox, you pop open the lid and peer inside, biting your lip as memories wash over you. There's your old pink camera, polaroids you'd taken of them together, some of your jewelry and other knick knacks. your favorite bandanna and one of your pale pink bras with strawberries on them.
You pick up a polaroid you'd taken a while ago of them together at the premiere for a nightmare on elm street. You turn it to him.
"I remember that night. It's when we first started dating. You took my virginity after, remember? In the back of your truck at the drive in. It was the best night of my life."
You frown. "Did you really use the handcuffs on stella, or were you saying that to hurt me?"
He simply stands there for a second, leveling you with a loaded look: eyebrows scrunched together, pouty lips set into a line and doe eyes full of all the hurt he’d buried over the past year.
But he knows that he doesn’t hate you, knows that he never could — and he also knows that it’s killing him to act like he does.
He sighs, slumping down into the chair in the corner of his room and running his hands down his face, “Yes, I remember — I thought you were actually scared of the movie but you wanted to get into my pants; I couldn’t blame you.”
He shakes his head, angry at himself for admitting this to you, “No, shes — not into that stuff. Not like you were.”
She's a lot different than you were, he thinks, visibly distraught. She's worse.
"I was scared! Its not my fault you were all hot and protective."
You almost grin when he admits the truth about stella, but hide it. You know you've got him hooked, the reminder of the past softening him. He won't take your back tonight, not that easily, not that soon, but that's not the objective anyway. Tonight, you just want to remind him of what he's missing, of what he'll continue to miss and never have with stella.
You get up until your in front of him in his chair, leaning forward until your hands grip either side of the armrests, bringing your face close to his.
"I bet she's so plain huh, your stella. I got a good look at her. Seems like the type to scrunch her nose at giving head, clutch her pearls at the thought of all the depraved shit you're into. But not me, right? No, you showed me all the wonderful things you're into, and made me love it. Tell me-"
You walk your fingers up his clothed knee. "-Does she love your body with hers the way i did?"
He knows he should be a strong man and push you off. He should tell you to get your shit and leave, to never come back into his life because all you've done for the past year has hurt him and his heart can’t take it anymore.
That is what he’d do, if he were a strong man. But the first thing Eddie Munson will tell you about himself is that he is one weak willed motherfucker, especially when it comes to the pretty girl standing in front of him.
Which is why he doesn’t push you off, only steels his jaw and turns his head so he isn’t looking directly at you, because maybe if he can act like he was fighting it at first then he won’t feel so guilty later.
“I think you know the answer to that” His voice is strained, like he’s using all of his strength just to stay still in this chair, “She doesn’t — she doesn’t like that type of stuff. And i’m not — I wouldn’t force her into it. She's …she's not like you were. Unfortunately.” aaaand, there he goes, being weak again.
You reach up and turn his jaw so he's looking at you. You don't kiss him, but it's a near thing. Fuck, You want to. You sit on his lap instead. Better.
"My poor baby." You coo with real sympathy. Okay, it's a little mean, because you're still jealous as hell he'd been with stella in ANY way. Kinky or not. "You must be itching to restrain someone to your bed and eat them out till' they cry. Know that always made you cum the hardest. When i couldn't move away from your mouth or your cock."
You stroke a hand down his chest and smile when you feel him harden under you, no doubt thinking about all the times he'd had you naked and cuffed to his bed post.
"I thought about that alot. Those city boys don't know how to fuck like you, you know? Never felt as good as it did with you."
His eyes flick down to your tits and he groans, deep from his throat — why did you insist on testing him like this?
Your mean tone has him looking at you with an unamused glare, halfway torn between angry and horny.
Still, though, his hands settle on your hips, his cock rapidly hardening as he thinks back on all the times he’d tied you up, made you take anything he gave you until you begged for a break. He remembers how pretty you looked with tears running down your face.
God, he’s so supremely fucked.
“Yeah?” His voice is shaky, fingers rubbing smooth circles into your hips, itching to grip onto the skin tyoure like he used to, “Bet they’re all vanilla as fuck, huh? Can’t make you cum like you need.”
You shiver when his fingers start to rub against your hips, your shirt riding up enough he's touching bare skin.
You try to keep your voice steady and cool. "Was so bored I nearly fell asleep everytime." You realize how equally dangerous this situation is for you, underestimating your ability to handle him touching you again. How long before his good conscience came rushing back to him and he tried in vain to refuse this again? You needed to take all you could for the moment.
"Only you can make me cum that hard, baby. Needed to come back for you so I could have it again. Don't you need it too? Need me?"
You knew he did. Felt it in the way he gripped you so hard you'd have marks there tomorrow from his rings. Just how you liked it.
"This doesn't have to be messy."
His hands keep trailing up and down your legs, getting a little closer inside each time. He’s teasing you, the cool metal of his rings probably stinging against your skin. But he knows You like it.
He’s tired of being nice, tired of being good — he could never be mean to you, no, but he could have his fair share of fun torturing you like you seemed to do with him. Again, no one brought out this side of him like you did. And he intends to make the most of it before his better mind came back.
He lets his face fall to bury in your neck, inhaling your scent in one deep breath. Fuck, how had he gone so long without it?
“But you know how much I like it messy.” His voice is almost a growl, tongue coming out from between his lips to lick a stripe up your neck to your earlobe, catching it between his teeth for a moment.
"Eddie..."
You couldn't help but grind down against him, eyes nearly rolling into your skull at how the zipper in his jeans caught against your clit through your pants. His mouth on your neck-
"Jesus, you know what that does to me- you- ah! Not playing fair."
You knew that was a stupid thing to say, like your whole reapperance in hawkins wasn't playing fair. But really, he knew what his tongue on your throat did to you. And when he took your lobe in his mouth and tugged you let out a whimper, sinking into his lap. You knew. You knew how messy he liked it, and you dug your nails into his shoulders as you rocked on his lap.
"Get messy with me then, eds. Fuck me right here, I'll make you forget all about that dumb girlfriend of yours."
He can’t help but smirk against your skin, knowing that licking you always worked like a charm. It was one of the things he loved most about you, how sensitive you were.
“Yeah? Gonna let me make a mess of you right here, angel? How fucking dirty.”
He says it condescendingly, voice honey-sweet, hips thrusting up to grind against your cunt through your pretty panties. His hand slips down to rub at your clit, the other gripping your hair to bare your neck for him.
“You want my cock so bad? Get it yourself, princess. I’m havin’ fun here.” He snarls it against your neck, biting down right into the skin of your stick and poke.
You bite your lip as he taunts you, melting into him. God, You wanted him. You wanted him to fuck your right here on his bed, the bed he'd probably taken stella to, since you'd been gone. You wanted to erase any trace of that bitch from eddies person.
You felt the toxic possessiveness and jealousy overcome you, overriding your sentimental heart and the need to just be with eddie in the moment. You felt vengeful even though you didn't have a right to be, the thought that eddie had tried to forget you, had kissed and touched someone else was driving you insane.
Pushing off his lap, you sunk to your knees, quickly unbuckling his belt and yanking it from its loops, tugging him out and giving that fat fucking cock you'd missed one long stroke. You stared up at him as you let your tongue flick over his weeping slit.
"This is mine." You kiss his pink tipped head, knowing that'd make him lost in the sensation. When he was distracted, You moved your other hand until you found your camera. You gripped the chunky item and sneakily snapped a picture of you ,unmistakable, with eddies cock splitting your lips.
He was too lost in your mouth to notice you putting the camera away, slipping the polaroid under the sheets in his mattress. Stella was the insecure type. She'd search his room at every opportunity for evidence of him with someone else. And she'd have a nice surprise when she came over later.
You moaned lewdly around eddies cock, drooling over it as you pulled off, spit connecting from your lips to his cockhead.
"Want you to cum down my throat so bad. You'll give me that, yeah? For old times sake."
He swears the entire world melts around him the second you've got your hand on his cock. He’d missed it so much, missed your slender fingers pumping him until he spilled all over your face. Or your tits. Or your cunt — wherever he felt like that day, really.
His head rolls back in a groan when you kiss his head — that’d always been a sensitive area for him, one that sent shivers down his spine. You were evil to use it, but fuck did it feel good.
“God, you look so pretty with a cock shutting you up — my cock, jesus—“ Hes moaning, hips thrusting shallowly into your mouth. He’d throat trained you for a reason.
“You gonna make me?” He says it like a challenge, the grip on your hair tight. “Make me think you deserve it.”
your cunt throbbed at his words. Eddie always had a filthy mouth, and it never failed to make you leak down your thighs. Him being rarely mean with his words was a treat too. You wondered what his reaction would be when he found out you'd just ruined his relationship. your masochistic pussy just got wetter at the thought.
"You know i can make you do anything." You preened, licking the underside of his cock like hard candy, sucking your lips lovingly down the veins on his shaft. One of your hands came up to card your fingers through the hair at his pelvis. "C'mon, eddie. Give me what i want, shoot that load you've been savin' up just for me down my throat and make me choke on it."
You also knew your filthy mouth got him as wound up as his did to you. You sealed your lips around him and eagerly sunk your mouth all the way down, until your nose was touching his bush.
As much as he hates it, your words go straight to his cock — he always liked that you had a bit of bite to you, that you never backed down when he was mean — because you knew he never meant it.
The second you take him all the way in he’s letting out a choked off moan, his eyes nearly rolling back. One big hand comes down to tangle in your hair, pressing against the back of your head to keep you there.
“Breathe, angel, yeah, through your nose like I taught you — fuck, don’t even know how much I m-missed this,” Hes rambling, the sensation of you swallowing around his cock making his brain melt.
“Think of this all the time — think of this perfect fuckin’ mouth, just made to be filled with my cock. Shit.” He cursed at the fact that he was already getting close, the tension from the night building up.
your eyes teared up as your throat spasmed around his fat cock stuffing your throat. His words made your toes curl in your boots and you started to breathe through your nose like he taught you.
your gag reflex protested but you fought through it, cheeks now stained with your tears, eyes watery and wet and eyeliner dripping all over as you peered up at him.
You used your other free hand to tug on his heavy balls, gurgling around the girth in your flexing throat as you massaged the soft flesh in your palm lovingly.
You needed his cum, would not move from this spot until you got it. Your tender throat screamed for release but that just made you widen your jaw even harder, more determined to take his hot cum straight down the closer you got to truly choking. Spit was spilling from your split lips around him, and you felt his sack tighten in your hand as his orgasm came over him.
You could have tap danced with happiness.
The sight of you peering up at him through wet, makeup drenched lashes is what sends him over the edge, hissing as he feels his balls tighten up.
His load is thick, bigger than usual — he was ashamed to admit that Stella never made him cum hard, not the way you could. Wouldn’t tell you that the reason they didn’t have sex much was because he wasn’t into her and was always thinking of you.
He grins when it spills a bit around your lips, his grip on your hair loosening even as he’s still babbling, “Shit, fuck — so fucking good, god. Fucking perfect, needed you so bad, missed you so bad. God.”
You swallow around him easily, like you were born to do it, pulling back to place a kiss on his softening head. You lick your lips of the remnants of him and smile up at him from your place on your knees.
"You needed that bad, didn't you baby?" You can see your time running out. As his labored breathing steadies, the lust in his eyes turning wide with guilt already.
You run your palms up his slack legs, your smile sad now, for a lot of reasons. Eddie thought he had a relationship to go back to after this, but he'd soon realize he didn't. Working through his reaction to that particular betrayal would be another hurtle you had to jump over, but it was necessary. He'd see it all soon, when they were together again. He always loved how insane you were.
"Feeling like a shitty boyfriend at the moment, i take it?"
As he comes down from his high, chest heaving and the adrenaline leaving his body, he feels a massive pit in his stomach when he looks down at the girl between his legs.
He can’t push you away — feels like it would be ungentlemanly to tell you to get off and out of his life after you’d just sucked the soul out of him. But he couldn’t keep doing this; he knew it.
“Sweetheart, I…” He sighs, running a hand through now slick with sweat bangs, “We never should’ve done that. I — I shouldn’t have done that. Shouldn’t have let you.”
“I’m — i’m sorry,” He has no fucking clue why he’s apologizing, just knows it’s forcing it’s way out of him, “But I can’t keep doing …this with you. It’s not fair to her. I think.. you shouldn't come back here for awhile. Not until i think things through."
You just smile serenely and nod. There wouldn't be time. You were working on your schedule, not his.
He'd find out soon.
Steve had otherwise forgotten about your…less than happy reaction to Eddie’s newfound romance, which is why the sound of someone pounding at his door has him jumping in his seat and furrowing his brows.
He swears he’s gonna cuss the kids out if they came to bother him on the one day he told them not to—oh. It isn’t them.
He’s greeted with the sight of a smiling you, already making your way inside, a bag of McDonald’s in your hand as you do.
“Um — hello? Can I ask why you’re infiltrating my house, now?” He pretends to be bothered, but the lilt in his tone betrays him.
You sigh dramatically, breezing by him and dropping your McDonald's on his kitchen counter. The thing about having rich parents was that they were rarely home.
"You can ask but I won't answer. Listen- woah. When did you learn how to dress?" You lower your blue tinted sunglasses to get a good look at him. "I mean, you are looking really, really good right now. Are you sure you're single? Still looking?"
You grin and pop a fry into your mouth, offering him one as you lounge on his plush couch and kick your feet.
"Stevie, I've done something bad, i fear. I need to clear my conscience so I can go back to being hot and uncaring."
He squints at you, perching himself on the arm of the couch as he does. You’d always come in here like you owned the place, and it’s not like his parents were ever home to care, so it became kind of routine.
He gives you a look as he grabs the fry from you, chewing it slowly. He’s looking at you like you're suspicious, which you are, and he raises a brow.
“What did you do now? Did you slit someone’s tires again? You know I can’t bail you out of that twice, right?”
He probably could, but you didn’t have to know that.
"That was one time, Steve, and they deserved it. Fuck Debra to this day."
You jab a fry at him before eating it. You wiggle your toes in your flats as you sigh, getting serious. You did feel slightly bad, not for stella, fuck her, but for the pain your actions were about to cause eddie.
"I went to see eddie. Met his new girlfriend. Stella, really? You let that happen? Anyway, he asked me to come pick up my stuff and yada yada i gave him head. The BAD part is that i may have, unbeknownst to him, taken a picture of said act and left it for dear old stella to find."
When you say it out loud it sounds really bad. You know it does. Ugh. "But it's all for the greater good! Eddie doesn't even like stella. You get it right? I mean you see why i had to?"
He holds his hands up, shaking his head.
“Fuck did you want me to do? He seemed real fuckin’ determined to get over you, so I just let him do whatever the fuck he wanted! You made it sound like you were never coming back!”
He’s content to sit there and listen, fry halfway to his mouth when you drop the bomb on him and he coughs on it, looking at you like you’ve gone insane.
“Jesus christ, you really are a psycho —“ He doesn’t want to unpack why he thinks that’s kind of (very) hot, instead sighing.
“So like, what’s the game plan now? You know he’s gonna be, like, mega pissed, right?”
"Well you shouldn't have let him! Of course i was coming back. I just needed a breather from this wacko town, full offense."
You huff and pout at his admonishment knowing he's right but always hating being scolded. He called you a brat. You called it 'dont call me out and we'll all be fine'.
"I know he'll be mad. I just really needed to get him and stella apart, the rest will just....happen, you know. Like fate."
You peer up at him with your puppy dog eyes, knowing their effect on him. He used to have a thing for you, You wonder if he still does. And if you can use it.
"Don't look at me like that, stevie. He's mine. I don't share or play fair, you know that. You've become so moral all the sudden, s'kinda hot. A little annoying, but hot."
“God, you’re such a brat, you know that? Couldn’t even let the fucker figure it out for himself?” He shakes his head, narrowing his eyes when he sees your puppy dog eyes, so round and big and — shit.
He knew how Eddie felt, he really did — Steve had always had kind of a thing for you, was really confused and pretty annoyed when you got with Eddie, but he pushed it away because you both were happy.
But he remembers the summer when you left, him and Eddie both heartbroken. They’d bonded over it and one thing led to another and — it doesn’t matter now, they never talked about it again, but for a good month or so, they used each other to forget. But it was always focused on thinking of you.
“You’re so lucky I like you, yanno that?” He groans, grabbing another fry. “You play dirty.”
Him calling you a brat made you shiver a little. Maybe you always liked it when Steve lectured you, he did get all hot when he was stern, anyway. Before eddie, you'd spent more than a few nights with your hand between your legs, thinking about him. Not that you'd ever tell him that.
"And you're lucky not to be on my bad side, harrington." You prop your feet up on the table in front of his couch, your long legs extending. "The things I'd do to you if you ever crossed me would make you shake in your loafers."
You trusted him though. He'd always been a constant in your life, even at your worst. You appreciate him even though you were terrible at showing it.
"Why do you like me, anyway? As far as besties go, robin has me beat i think."
He rolls his eyes, faking a shiver, “Oh, i’m sooo scared, the little girl’s gonna hurt me, oh nooooo.”
He can’t help but chuckle at the glare you send his way, though your question has him shrugging while he pops a nugget in his mouth.
“Eh, you and Robin are different — she's more of like, a bro, you know? We talk about girls and everything under the sun. You’re…”
He pauses, trying to figure out where he’s going with this before he keeps talking, trying not to stammer.
“We’ve been friends forever — no matter how much I want you dead sometimes, you’re always there for me. And — I mean, okay, you’re pretty easy on the eyes, can you blame me?”
You don't know why hearing that makes you so happy. Okay, yes you do. You were a possessive person and you liked knowing you had a special place in his heart just for you. It made you all fuzzy inside.
"Is this you admitting you have a crush on me, stevie?" You lean up so you're crowding in his space, grinning at him with your candy apple lipgloss shining. You like teasing him. The king of hawkins high could never handle you being this close to him.
He always pulled back. Blushed and rolled his eyes or said something snarky when you went too far and you two settled back into their routine. Even when you'd been dating eddie and were fully committed and faithful you couldn't resist pushing his buttons sometimes. He just made it so easy.
"If i wasn't so focused on eddie, I'd probably kiss you. But I don't want your pretty head on a stake, he doesn't show it outwardly, but he's the jealous type too."
You say this unaware of the current relationship between the two men. After all, the last time you'd been in hawkins they barely tolerated each other. Eddie hated how preppy your friend was and Steve hated that you were taken by the town outcast.
Steve rolls his eyes, the trademark blush spreading across his cheeks as he looks to you, but this time, he decides maybe he won’t push you off.
“And what if I said I did, hm? What then,?” He doesn’t know what had come over him, but you didn’t know how much he’d changed over the past year and a half. And he intends to let you find out.
He leans forward, eyebrow raised, the tone he speaks in almost a challenge, “Why don’t you then, hm? Can’t pretend you don’t want it.”
At the mention of Eddie he just scoffs, unable to stop the smirk that curves his lips, entirely reminiscent of the old him. The cocky one, “Wanna know a secret? I don’t think he’d care at all — in fact, I think he’d like it.”
You blink, instinctively pulling back when he pushes forward. Your eyes go doe eyed when he actually rises to your challenge. Huh, so maybe there was something to his game after all. Who'd have thought.
"I will. You're cocky now because i'm not but the second i do, you'll be lecturing me again. Don't dare me."
your eyebrows pull together at his last comment, pausing where you'd been in the process of leaning back in. He was definitely implying something with that, especially with that look on his face. Like he knew something you didn't.
"What does that mean? I mean, i know eddies bisexual but he like, detested you in high-school. Would definitely wring your neck if he knew about that super mega ultra crush you had on me."
He nearly folds at the sight of your doe eyes, knowing he’s caught you off guard — the old Steve might have been cocky, but he wouldn’t mess with someone’s girl.
But now he knew that someone was actually quite enthusiastic about the proposition.
Steve only laughs, shrugging his shoulders as he leans back against the arm of the couch, “What makes you think he doesn’t already know? That we haven’t…worked out our differences? Hm?”
He's being vague on purpose, waiting for you to take the bait and wanting to keep you on the hook. It was almost addicting to do, see the way your face changed and got so adorably confused.
"Worked out your...."
Your eyes go saucer wide, realization dawning. You feel many things at once. Shock. Jealousy. Anger. Possessiveness. Mostly You're just intrigued.
"You and eddie? Together? When? How?" You leaned forward even more eagerly, gripping onto the lapels of his jean jacket so he couldn't pull away even if he wanted to. "Tell me everything right now harrington or i swear to god, ill- ill do something crazy. You know i will."
You wanted every single detail too. Felt yourself get warm between the legs at the mere thought of your soulmate and your best friend...being intimate like that.
He laughs again when you grip onto his lapels, shaking his head and gripping your hands, lightly taking them off to place on your lap.
“Be a good girl for once and keep them there and maybe i’ll tell you everything, hm? Thank you.”
He rolls his eyes dramatically, sitting back against the couch and tapping his fingers against the arm, “What do you want me to tell you? We both missed you and got high, one thing led to another and — well, his rings feel really good when he’s jerking me off. What’s so wrong about that?”
Alright, when did steve get good at seduction? You weren't stupid. He'd been popular for a reason, You just. You'd never had it turned on you like this. It was making you feel funny.
You frowned as you realized you were actually doing as he instructed, keeping your hands on your lap as you looked at him eagerly.
Your lips parted as the image he painted went through your head. Both of the most important men in your life, high and missing you, turning to each other. Eddies hands on Steve's....
"Eddie's seen your cock?" You didn't know who you were jealous of. Eddie for touching Steve, or Steve for being touched by eddie. You squirmed in place glancing at his crotch. "No fair. Of course there's something wrong about it. I wasn't there! I can't believe you-" you blurted then paused. "You missed me? Really? Enough to....do that?"
Did they do more? Did they jerk off to pictures of you? Did they blow each other thinking about your mouth? You were going insane here. "Steve, i hate you. Im gonna kill you. Boyfriend stealer. Hussy. Let me see your dick now, its only fair."
Steve can’t stop the grin eating at his lips even as he tries to stay serious, the sight of you actually being good sending him on a power trip. It’s slightly worrying.
“Yeah, he’s seen it — done a lot with it, actually, but I feel like he should tell you that.” Steve smirks at you from his place on the couch, trying not to think about the fact that his cock is absolutely hardening through his jeans.
“Yeah. Let him fuck my mouth whenever he missed yours, let him talk about how much he loved you — honestly, super unhealthy, but it was really hot,” He’s not even rambling, specifically picking certain instances to tell you, ones he knew would rule your up.
“I’m a boyfriend stealer?! You’re the one who left! I missed you too, you know,” He scoffs, rolling his eyes.
Then he’s intrigued again, smirking as he spreads his legs and gestures to his crotch, “Take it out, then, princess. Work for it.”
The thought of eddie using steve's mouth when he missed yours is almost too much. Like a wire snaps in your brain and you're wrenching forward to unbuckle steves belt, snapping open his buttons and jerking your hand through the opening slit in his boxers, not bothering to pull him fully out, closing your eyes and letting the feel of his full and heavy cock fill your hand.
Eddie had felt this weight, had stroked and licked and jerked this cock off. You felt a little mad, glaring at steve because fuck him for one upping you and pulling the rug out from under you like that with that reveal.
"Oh, you missed me, huh." You gripped the hard length in your hand tight, almost punishingly. "It was about me, huh? Sure you didn't just like how pretty my boyfriend looked, stevie? Kinda starting to wonder why i even bothered to come back."
You stroked up once and paused, squeezing again. "Do you even really like me or are you just a slut for any pretty face with big big eyes? Be honest."
He’ll admit he doesn’t expect you to just — go for it and pull his cock out, a long groan falling past his lips while his hips buck up to meet your touch.
Fuck. You really didn’t hold back; he breathes deeply, through his nose in a way that makes him calm, while he tries not to bust in your hand immediately.
This is what he and Eddie had talked about for countless nights, and Steve thought he’d never get to actually feel it, and now it was actually happening — fuck.
“Yes, it was about you, you fucking — god, you brat,” He groans, a hand combing through his hair as he thrusts his hips tentatively, “M’not a — fuck, not a slut. S’not my fault he’s stupidly fucking pretty. And horny.”
"M'not a brat. And you are a slut. Both of you are- I'll take care of eddie later but you-"
You stroke your hand back down to his thick base, feeling the veins in his cock literally pulse in your hand. Eddie was thick and fat, but Steve was long and girthy. You felt your hand settle against the mess of hair at his pelvis as you gripped him, barely fitting your hand around him.
"-Need to deal with you being naughty first. Didn't know you had it in you to be such a harlot, harrington. Letting my eddie use your mouth like it was my pussy. Did you talk about that, too? Did eddie tell you about how tight and wet i am?"
Steve was so pretty really. In a soft kind of way, the baby fat around his face had never really gone away and it made his expression soft and sweet as he blushed. His styled hair was a mess from his hand running through it, and you shoved your free hand up his shirt to drag it up his stomach, salivating at his bare skin, his hairy chest.
"Such slutty boys. What am i gonna do with you, huh? Am i supposed to let you cum after you went behind my back like that? Tell me what im supposed to do. Hm?"
Steve groans again, this time at how pretty your manicured fingers look barely being able to wrap around his dick. He wishes your words didn’t go straight to his twitching cock.
He let’s out a choked moan, pre-cum beading on his tip now, “I’m — fuck, we didn’t go behind your back! We just — we both missed you so much, and I wanted to know what you felt like, even if it was — shit, through him.”
He groans again, eyes focused down on you. He feels dizzy, and he thinks back to when Eddie would tell him you were insane in bed — in a hot way. He sees it now.
“I — I think you should let me cum. I’ve — fuck, i’ve been wishing for it for so long, only feels — hah — fair.”
"Hmm."
You pretend to contemplate his pleas as you lazily work his cock. your other hand idly runs through the hair on his chest, flicking over one of his dusty nipples just to feel him jerk in your fist. "I can feel you leaking all over my hand, you know? Messy and slutty. Are you sure you haven't cum already? No? Well I've gotten kind of bored so....."
You release his dick with a smile, even though inside you mourn the loss of him in your hand. You want him. Bad. In your mouth. In your cunt. But you're still pissed. You won't admit it's mostly at yourself, though. You wanted to be there, between them. Instead you'd been states away.
You lean back against his couch, bringing one of your legs up and pressing your foot into his chest. "Stay there."
You slide a hand down your skirt, scrunching it up until your lace blue panties are in view.
"You don't mind, do you? You can't put those kinds of thoughts in my head. I have to make myself cum now, all over your couch. You can watch, but don't touch. Slutty boys don't get to touch me."
He doesn’t know why he’s not just using his strength to take what he wants — he knows he could, could easily overpower you and you’d probably like it.
But this is — fun, oddly, something he didn’t realize he’d like. With all the other girls he’d been with he had to play the overly dominant, masculine role, which he didn’t mind, all things considered.
But with you it’s different, something about letting you think you have control getting him hot under the collar. You know him, his tendencies, his true self. It makes him more comfortable.
He swears he’s salivating when he sees your panties, swallowing thickly.
“You’re — fuck, baby, you’re kidding, right? Let me — fuck, let me touch myself too, please? Need it real bad.”
You tugs the lace to the side, running your finger up your wet slit until you circle your tight little bud.
Your foot presses harder into Steve's chest. He's solid muscle there and it annoys the fuck out of you. He's so buff he could literally toss your thighs apart like a ragdoll and shove his cock between your legs before you could even blink. But he won't.
"I don't know....my feelings are hurt, stevie. My two favorite men in the world, having each other while I had no one. S'kinda mean, don't you think? How would you make it up to me?"
You pant as you sink a finger into your hole, your walls milking around your digit eagerly. He looks so hot, panting over there like a dog in heat at the sight of you playing with your pussy. You feel slick drip down your thighs, definitely gonna leave a wet spot on his couch, you think.
"Touch yourself. Stroke that big cock and tell me how you'd make it up to her-" You plunge your finger deeper, the sticky squelch filling the room. "-My cunt. Tell me how you'd make her forgive you."
He lets out a huff, settling back against the couch and wondering why in the hell he’s letting you do this.
“How would I — you w-werent even here! You chose to leave, we were just —“ He lets out a deep breath, “Honoring your memory. Yknow?”
His cock is hot and hard when he finally grabs it, mouth agape while he watches you fuck yourself. He wishes it was him.
“Wanna—“ He’s trying not to stammer, even though suddenly his mouth feels much drier than normal. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, soft moans slipping past his lips as he strokes his cock, “Wanna rub the head over your pretty clit, wanna fuck you so deep you cry, wanna — shit — wanna paint your insides white, cum on you and smear it i-in.”
You shake your head, refusing to talk more about it. It would only end up making you actually upset. And you couldn't admit to Steve you were only so angry because you missed them both so much and felt so guilty for leaving it hurt that they had each other without you. Even if it was also kinda hot.
"Whatever. Shut up and jerk off."
Your cunt clenches around your fingers at his stream of dirty talk, your eyes hazy as you watch his hand move over his cock. Lips parted and clit throbbing as you humped down onto your hand, whining loudly, unable to help yourself.
"Of course you wanna make me cry. Always bullyin you', bet you wanna- wanna take it out on my cunt. I-i'd let you, maybe. You're so easy to push around i don't know if you can- can take what you want."
God, this is getting you so hot. You're soaking your hand, struggling to keep your eyes open so You can see when steve paints his chest with cum. You feel your hole clench and gasp as you cum, shaking through it, pussy convulsing around your thrusting fingers, slippery with the rush of slick.
"Oh god- S-steve, fuck. Feels so good. Wanna see you cum. Do it, do it now."
Didnt have to tell him twice. He’s groaning as he fucks into his hand, bringing it up to spit into the palm before he’s fucking his cock into his fist again, the sounds wet and lewd.
“Y-yeah? Shouldn’t test me, you know — just ‘cause I like bein’ pushed around sometimes doesn’t mean I won’t — fuck, doesn’t mean I won’t tear that little cunt apart.”
Hes embarrassed by how quickly he’s going to cum, but you're so fucking hot and getting him so hot that he can’t help it. He reaches another hand down to fondle his balls and that’s what pushes him over the edge.
The loud groan that comes from his throat is choked, eyes trained on your pretty cunt and how you look so hot when you cum. He gets an idea suddenly and points his cock down and, instead of at his chest, his cum sprays against your pussy. He moans at how each spurt coats your folds white.
“F-fuck, knew You’d look so pretty covered in cum. God.”
You giggle dazedly as you smear the sticky white fluid into your cunt. The rush overtaking you, as you sag against his cushions. You blink up at the ceiling, biting your lip suddenly.
What does this mean for you and eddie?
He’s angry. No, he’s so beyond fucking angry — what the fuck was your deal?
Eddie swore to god he’d had his entire room torn apart by the time he woke up, an angry Stella screaming at him while she'd stood in one of his shirts.
Itd taken him a second to actually wake up to see what she was yelling about, and by the time he’d woken up enough to figure it out she was already gone, telling him to go fuck himself and that they were over.
He grimaced, eyes flicking to the object of all this anger and tilting his head when it finally came into view, eyes narrowing.
That sneaky little minx.
He quickly got up and grabbed a few things from his room, stuffing them in his bag and shaking his head as he stormed to his van, slamming every door that was in his way.
It's like he gets there in a flash, peeling into your driveway and using the old key he’d locked away to get into your house. Your parents weren’t home, they never were, which makes it easy for him to stomp up to your room, boots heavy and loud on your stairs.
He slams your door open, eyes narrowing as he shoves the picture you’d hidden in your face, his chest heaving with all of his anger, “Are you fucking insane? What the fuck is this? Quickly.”
You'd been in your room laying on your stomach on your bed, kicking your feet as you flipped through a magazine. The slam of your house door and the subsequent thundering footsteps had you rising to your knees in surprise, eyes wide when your door flung open to reveal eddie.
You thought you'd seen him angry before. You'd been wrong. You actually felt fear for a split second as he stormed to you, before he was thrusting the picture in your face and you realized why he was here. You relaxed a little.
"Oh, that." You pretended to look at it like you didn't already know what was exactly on it, getting up and walking to your large vanity to check your hair. You were actually nervous, but you were attempting to hide it with sarcasm. "You were there, eddie, i think you know what it is."
You turned to face him with your hip rested against your vanity, tube of watermelon lip gloss in hand. "Or is it the concept of a blowjob you're confused about?" You calmly applied a layer of gloss against your lips, capping the tube with a loud 'snick' in the deadly silence of the room.
"Funny considering you'd been getting quite a few of those from Steve, i hear. What's one more from me?"
Eddie blinks, chest still heaving as he considers you. You were trying to get under his skin, clearly, and if he was stronger, he wouldn’t let it affect him.
It's been established that Eddie Munson is not a strong man, though, and his cheeks flare as a renewed sense of irritation flows through him. Harrington told you; of fucking course.
“Whatever I do with Steve — or anyone, quite frankly, is none of your fucking business, sweetheart, because as I understand it, you. left. me.” He punctuates his words with steps towards you, relishing in the fact that you're caged against your vanity now.
He peers down at you, making it so you have to crane your neck to see him. He feels powerful. It’s almost addicting.
“What’s your game plan now, huh? Stella's gone, wants nothing to do with me. So what’s your big plan? Or did you not fucking think beyond fucking me over?”
Your mouth twists, not liking him bringing up the fact that he doesn't belong to you. He would soon.
"Wrong. Everything you do is my business. Always has been, always will be."
You falter just slightly as he corners you, your back digging into your vanity. You feel trapped in a way you're not used to feeling. And you can sense how unhinged he's feeling now.
"My game plan....Stella was just collateral damage, eddie. My game plan has always been to come back to you. I was never gonna be gone forever."
You soften your voice and your eyes, leaning up to wrap your arms around your neck. "We can be together now. Just like old times, yeah?"
You hadn't planned on having this confrontation now. You would have planned better if you knew. Most importantly, you'd have made sure the cum soaked, ruined panties you'd left with at steves weren't hanging on the chair of your vanity. It wasn't like you even planned to do that with steve. It was just the heat of the moment. But for some reason you hadn't wanted to wash them immediately, so you left them there as a dirty reminder for awhile.
You register the moment eddie sees them and feel all your confidence slip away. Oh no.
He’s seething, he swears he is. Every breath he takes is labored, like he’s holding himself back from doing something — what, he doesn’t know.
But it’s evident it’s not going away anytime soon when his eyes flick to the chair next to them and he sees cum ruined panties —male, cum ruined panties, not something you could do on your own. And he has an inkling of whose cum it could be.
He grips your arms and unhooks them from his neck, sets them at your side and gives you a scathing look, like he dares you to try again. You don't.
He reaches out to hook the wet piece of fabric around his finger, bringing it over to hold in front of your face and raises his eyebrows.
“Fuck is this, then, hm?” His tone is clipped, short, reminiscent of the calm before an intense storm, “I do encourage you to be honest with me, so let me rephrase — whose cum is this? If everything i do is your business, everything you do is mine.”
It's strange to feel powerless. You'd felt in control every step of the way since your return to hawkins. In control in eddies trailer, in control at steves house. But now, with your own actions being thrown in your face with no way to back out you balk.
Hello consequences, nice to meet you. You're faced with the very real possibility that depending on how you respond, you could lose not only eddie. But Steve as well.
"Steve's." Your voice is honest and soft. Because he's right. It is his business. That's how they worked. "He told me what happened between you two after i left and- one thing led to another-"
your bottom lip trembles a little, but you won't cry. You can be a big girl and face the music. The very scary, hot music.
"I got turned on. And jealous. And sad. I don't know how it happened, I just wanted him to tell me everything. And then he started talking about how you used eachother to remember me....please dont hate me."
You really would do anything for his forgiveness. You just hoped You hadn't pushed too far this time.
He nods, letting go of a breath he didn’t even know he’d been holding. He calms down, if only slightly, because at least you're being honest.
He nods along with your words, big hands and long fingers tapping along your hips as he does. It’s not for your pleasure, but more for his amusement.
“Fucking Harrington — whatever, i’ll deal with him later,” And that’ll also probably end in sex, he thinks, because Steve is nothing if not a fucking minx.
“But right now, i’m dealing with you,” He looks down his nose at you, pointing. “What to do with you, hm? You betrayed me, baby, you really did, but I could never hate you. It’s my own fault. But I can torture you. In my own way.”
He pauses, letting you anticipate things for a moment before he’s gripping your hips and tossing you on your bed, fishing in the bag he’d thrown on the floor. Bingo.
He grabs his handcuffs, already starting the process of cuffing you to your headboard, “Tell me if it’s too tight.” He was mad, but he wasn’t trying to hurt you.
"Don't deal with him without m-" You zipped your lips on second thought, thinking you'd dug your grave enough tonight.
You squeak like a mouse when he picks you up and tosses you onto your bed, bouncing on it as you stare up at him in anticipation and fear and trust all combined. Those stupid cuffs make your thighs clench immediately, cunt remembering what they meant.
"N-no they're fine." Your voice is meek. Docile. You haven't used it in almost two years because it had only ever been reserved for eddie. Only he saw this side of you, steve had seen a small glimpse, but this was your submitting wholly.
You tugged on the cuffs to test their strength and found them strong. You were officially at his mercy. You squirmed on the bed and gave him your best doe eyes.
"What're you going to do to me...." You paused and then added. "....Sir."
You were genuinely curious and a little worried. Torture could mean anything from making your cum so hard you wished you could stop, or him not letting your cum until you cried. Or even worse. Making your talk about feelings.
He smirks down at you, the show of submissiveness making his cock twitch in his jeans. He may be mad, but he was always able to appreciate how hot you were when you let yourself be a good girl.
“I don’t know yet, angel…” He shrugs, shaking his head as he paces in front of your bed, intending to make you as nervous as possible.
“What do you think, hm? Think you’ve been a good enough girl that you deserve for me to make you feel good?” His tone is condescending, almost mocking, but honey sweet.
“Actually—“ He laughs, clapping his hands together like he’d just figured out what he’s going to do, “I know just the thing.”
He’s descending on the bed then, grinning to himself as he hovers over you, “I’m going to do whatever I want to this little cunt until you’re crying —“ He pats your pussy through your jeans, “And youre going to tell me why you decided to cause so much trouble. If you stop, I stop. Capiche?”
Your eyes nearly roll back into your skull. He was so hot when he got a little mean. Something about him actually meaning it this time was gonna drive you insane. You didn't know how you'd live through this physically without opening a third eye or reaching a higher state of being or something.
The whimper you let out when he patted your cunt through the fabric of your jeans was obscene. Even as panic laced through your at this other words, fuck. You were hoping he'd skip over the whole admitting to deep feelings part and just fuck your stupid.
Consequences. Right.
"O-okay." You peered up at him through your lashes as he leaned over you, his dark hair framing his face making him look like some fallen angel. "I understand, sir."
You try to start explaining from the start but don't know how. You're sweaty and horny and nervous all at once, twisting helplessly in the cuffs as he looks down at you.
"I-i just. W-wanted you back. That's the truth, i promise! Just hated this town n wanted a breather. Wanted to find myself....d-didnt mean to hurt you so bad. Missed you so much..."
He nods along with your words, practically ripping your jeans off as he does. He’s desperate, more than you realized.
Suddenly he’s cursing the fact that he always has to wear so much fucking stuff, groaning as he unbuttons his pants and discards them somewhere on your floor. It takes too fucking long if you ask him.
“Duly noted,” He comments, quickly removing his rings and setting them on his desk before he’s pressing two fingers to your mouth, ordering you to “suck”.
Once he’s satisfied he’s putting them both inside you at once, scissoring them in and out and narrowing his eyes when he realizes you're not talking anymore.
His fingers stop, and he lifts his head to meet your eye, “Okay? I didn’t tell you to stop talking — go on or you get less prep, too.”
Your body jerks down the bed as he yanks your jeans down, the cuffs biting into your wrists. The motion sends the chain necklace hidden under your top flying out against your chest, the glinting promise ring he'd given your years ago flashing.
You gasp wetly when he coldly sets his rings aside before your lips are wrapping eagerly around his digits, whining when he pulls them out, your legs widening on instinct for him as he plunges them inside you. You're embarrassed at how wet and slick you are, the sting of being stretched so suddenly only making your moan.
Thighs trembling when he stops. You try desperately to collect your thoughts enough to speak, wanting to be good for him so he forgives you. You'd take his cock now anyway, with barely any prep just to feel the burn of him filling you again, but you want to give him what he wants. Even if its hard for you.
"M-missed you every day i was away. I-I wanted to leave with us still together, wanted t-to become something and then come back for you....but i w-was stubborn and couldn't talk to you like a grown up, couldn't tell you i wanted to get married one day and have babies and be gross- uhhh- so i made you hate me instead, m'sorry."
You hump your hips down on his hand, trying to make him move, tears already collecting on your lashline because you just want him inside you already. You missed him. Missed his cock. It was yours, he was yours.
"Please- didn't mean to hurt you. Please, i just love you, love you so much."
He hates how quickly he folds for you — he’s starting to accept the fact that, where you were involved, he would never be a strong man. And maybe that’s okay.
He sighs to himself, already leaning forward so he can pump his fingers in again, pace almost punishing as he adds a third one — he had to get you prepped, he was thick.
“So you were always gonna come back?” His voice is low, almost awestruck — had he really gone through all that to get over you when you never intended to get over him in the first place?
He gives you a soft smile, then, trying to reassure you that he wasn’t as mad anymore — sure, he’d have to tell you to never be that psychotic again, but he also knows that’s why he loved you so much. It was a give and take.
“God — I love you too, angel, I love you so so much — breathe, okay? S’gonna hurt at first, know those assholes in college probably had small cocks—“ He’s saying it to make himself feel better, even though he’s probably right, slipping his fingers out to lick your juices off before he starts to line his cock up.
You nod eagerly, splaying your thighs so wide for eddie they hurt but you don't care in the slightest.
"Uh huh. Always gonna come back for you. Can't live without you-"
His smile makes your eyes wet all over again and You lean up, straining against your cuffs to give him a kiss, knowing you had him. You were probably still in trouble for the Steve thing, but for now, it was about them, and he loved you.
"N-no one was as good as you- no one. Missed your cock. Thought about it stuffin' me every night- love it, love it as much as you eddie, i need it-"
You hiccup on your words as you feel the blunt head of him at your hole, biting your lip raw as he pushes in. He's so thick. You start shaking immediately, tears slipping because it feels like he's tearing you open but you love it. You missed it.
"Eddie, please. D-dont torture me anymore, i learned my lesson- love me please."
“God, I love when you’re such a fuckin’ sap, you know that?”
He signs against you, leaning down so he can press a kiss against your pillow soft lips, bottoming out in one go.
He knew it would hurt but he also knew you’d like it, you always had — he thought you were crazy, and maybe you were, but he never really cared.
He moves his lips against yours as he stays there, itching to move but wanting to make sure you're okay first, “Shh, baby, I love you so much, okay? You got me, m’yours, never gonna leave you—“
He has to take another breath, almost choked, “God, this pussy is so good, fuck — can I move? Please? Needa fuck you, feel like i’ve been missing it forever.”
Your eyes crossed in that way they did when he hit that gooey spot at your center, his cock filling you to the brim. Brain completely shutting off all function as you whined so loudly.
"Move, move. Fuck me, baby. Fuck me for all the time i made you miss this cunt- please. Need to feel it-"
You pulled your own knees up, your pink sneakers and socks still on, your toes curling in your rainbow colored socks, golden anklet dangling around your foot as you propped them on either side of his shoulders.
The position widened your cunt and you moaned like a whore at how wide and exposed you felt. You could only imagine how you looked down there, wet and folds straining around his thick cock splitting your open as wide as you'd go. When he started moving, your feet swaying in the air next to his head, you started babbling even more.
"G-god. Love you, love you, love you. M'gonna die i love being fucked by you so much, please, please."
He almost forgot how good you looked when you were opening yourself up for him, letting yourself go mind numb and slutty.
He doesn’t have to be told twice, hands traveling from the sides of your head to the notches in your knees, big hands gripping them to spread your fartyour.
He works up to punishing thrusts but he knows it’s what you like, let’s himself pound into you until his pelvis is grinding down into your clit and the sound of his heavy balls slapping against your ass echo throughout the room.
“God, love you so much, love this pretty fucking pussy—“ Hes groaning, babbling, just as fucked dumb as you is at this point.
He grins when he hears the wet squelch of your cunt around him, just encouraging him to give it to you harder, “You hear yourself, baby? You missed me, just as much as I missed you, fuck, could fuck you like this forever—“
You might be embarrassed if you weren't so turned on.
"Pl- missed you so much- my pussy missed you so much-"
Your fists clench in your restraints, feeling overwhelmed about the fact that you have to lay there and take it.
"Make me take my pounding- oh, oh, never gonna leave again, just keep me here forever-"
Just the thought of it, of eddie keeping your tied up and using your cunt whenever he wanted has you dripping around his cock fucking into you again and again. It's a fantasy but its a hot one, especially after the circumstances. Eddie making sure you could never go anywhere again, chained up and splayed open to take his cock like you were meant to.
You open your mouth. "S-spit. Spit in my mouth, ah! Please."
His bangs are sticking to his head, sweat slicking his skin and the groan you pull out of him feels like it’s fucking unholy.
The thought is a fantasy, of course, some depraved thing he’d never actually do, but fuck if he didn’t like the thought of you always ready and open for him, just waiting to take his cock whenever he wanted.
His eyes flit down to yours and he nods, immediately pursing his lips and leaning down so he can drip his spit into your mouth, leaning down to lick across your lips.
“S’that good, baby? How’s my spit taste, huh?”
His words are dirty, accentuated by the filthy sounds of fucking that fill the air.
“Cum on my cock, baby, cmon, show me how much you missed me, okay? Soak my cock, angel, s-shit —“ He needed you to. He didn’t know how much longer he’d last.
"Tastes so good sir, mm"
your lashes flutter and its like your cunt can't help but follow his orders, clenching around him as you cum. It feels so good, you missed this so bad. The cuffs rattle against the headboard as you tremble and shake your feet crossing behind Eddie's neck.
"Cum, cum in me, please. Wanna be full of you-"
You wanted to feel it splash inside you and fill you up, wanted to keep it inside you, filling you up and keeping you warm. Your skin was flushed and your chest was heaving and you lay limp and let your body he used like a fleshlight for him to dump his cum into.
He doesn’t have to be told twice. He folds himself over your when he feels himself about to cum, hips pumping into that little cunt like he’s trying to break it.
He wants his cock to get as deep as possible, wants his cum to go into your womb — the evil part of him thinks that maybe he could baby trap you, but he pushes that down immediately. He’s not that evil.
But he’s ashamed to say the thought is what makes him deliver his last thrust, cum spurting and painting your walls white.
He's panting above you, the hot cum thick and he doesn’t even want to pull out cause he wants to keep it there. But he does, fingers coming down to push it back in, ignoring your hiss of sensitivity.
“Fuck. You looks so fucking pretty all wet and puffy, you’re lucky i’m exhausted or id make you go another round.”
He drops down next to you on the bed, fingers still stuffed inside you to keep his cum there. He kisses your sweaty forehead as you curl against him. You're obviously too out of it to talk, but he knows you'll have to. Know it'll be messy and painful, but. He thinks you'll both come out okay.
He's not letting you go. Never again.
You knock on Steve's door, tapping your big chunky black boots against his steps, fishnets pulling against your thighs. You snuggled more into eddies flannel around you as you waited.
You just hoped you could clear the air, perhaps ask your good ol' friend a favor and ask him not to bring up what happened between them to eddie. Sure, he already knew about it. But you didn't want any awkward tension between them, especially since you and eddie were back together. It should be fine right? Steve had fucked loads of girls and had it mean nothing. And they hadn't even fucked, really! So it should be greattttt.
When he opened the door you smiled tentatively at him.
"Hey best friend in the whole wide world, you look great today by the way, did you do something with your hair? It looks really nice. Anyway! Can i come in?"
The second he opens the door he’s giving you a once over, no longer feeling it necessary to hide how blatantly he checks you out.
You look hot, and he swears he’s almost choking on air when he sees your fishnets.
His mouth opens, then closes again when he hears your words, brows furrowing as he moves out of the way to let you in.
“What did you do? You never ask to come in, you always just come in — and you’re complimenting me. Why are you complimenting me?”
your eyes come together in a squint as you pout. It's not something you can just come out and say, is it? You need to work up to it. Him checking you out isn't helping matters at all, making your skin flush.
"Have you no faith in me? Why must I have done something to compliment my friend? Do you only like to be degraded? "
You push past him now and nervously perch on the armrest of his couch. You can't sit on the cushions where they'd touched themselves in front of each other, even though he's probably washed them by now.
"I, uh. Have an update on the Eddie and me situation, is all."
“Because you’re never nice to me? Because even when we were like, five, you’d come up to me and then call me ugly and steal my snacks? I think I know my best friend by now.”
He squints at you, walking closely behind you and settling on the recliner next to the couch. Those cushions felt too — intimate, now.
It wasn’t like their relationship had changed — had it? He doesn’t even know if he would be ready for that, he didn’t expect any of yesterday to happen and—
Oh. “Oh, uh—“ His throat feels thick, “What is it?”
You kick your feet and hum, thinking the casual route is the best option. Cool as a cucumber. Cum. Steve's cum on your panties. Okay-
"We're back together. Basically. Uh, i won't get into the details of how that happened. But, yay!" You waggle your fingers in the air but then drop them and frown, glancing at Steve guilty.
"I guess....I was just hoping. We could keep what happened, you know. Between us?"
Eddie already knew about it, but you didn't want steve being weird about it. You pushed down the part of yourself that let it happen in the first place, the part of you that gotten lost in the moment. You didn't want any more problems between you and eddie. Any more drama. You'd promised to be good.
He frowns, blinking at you for a few seconds. Was he just supposed to forget everything now?
“Okay, pause—“ He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose before he’s leaning over his knees, elbows on top, “So. You’re back together, yeah, cool, whatever, but—“
He pauses, then. Why was he upset? And why was he jealous? Of Eddie or of you he didn’t know, and he absolutely was not in the right state of mind to accept that it was definitely both.
“It’s — okay, yeah, whatever. Yeah, fine, forget it. It didn’t even mean anything.”
Hes bluffing, of course he is, but he’s hurt, and one thing Steve Harrington hates is vulnerability.
You frowned. This is what you wanted but his wording didn't sit right with you. It niggled at your brain and even though you knew you should leave it, you couldn't.
"It might have meant nothing to me, but it definitely meant something to you. I know you've had a thing for me for years, steve."
You smoothed your hands down your shorts. Honestly, who did he think he was fooling. Just because you DEFINITELY didn't feel the same (You couldn't right? You had eddie again) didn't mean you were oblivious to his pining.
"Not that that matters, anyway. I know this hurts you, is my point. But thanks for being so cool about it. You're the best steve."
You smiled at him extra sweetly.
He can't stop his jaw from dropping slightly, eyebrows knitting together in a scowl, both confused and mildly angry.
“Im — excuse me? You do know that you also let me cum all over you, right? Like, that definitely wasn’t just a me thing.“
He's seething. He definitely feels it, fire flowing through his veins. You were compensating, he knew that, but fuck if it didn’t piss him off.
“Yeah,it fucking hurts to be thrown to the side like that, but I think you should also probably evaluate why the fuck you even wanted to in the first place. You’re throwing stones from a glass house.”
You flush angrily and pop up, hating being called out. God, why did everyone wanna make you own up to things?
"I'll throw stones at you! What does that even mean? I got horny, so what? You were talking about eddie, the boy i love. Of course i was gonna be into it."
You can't think about his cock, or how it felt to have him talk about wanting you. You're not allowed to be that greedy when you just got eddie back. You can't allow Steve to think you liked him at all, or he'd intervene.
"Look. Just. We both agree to keep it between us? I'm sorry it hurt you but what do you want from me? You know I can't like you back. I'm with eddie. You can't ruin that for me just because you have a crush."
Maybe if you were mean enough he'd stop having feelings for you and then they could go back to being friends and you and eddie could be in love and everything would be fine.
“You know what? Whatever, deny whatever the fuck you want, it’s not my grave to dig.“
He shakes his head, leaning back in his recliner again and averting his gaze from your. He was tired, and he knew you could tell.
Part of him knew he had little right to be angry — You didn’t like him back, whatever. But it felt like he’d put his heart out there and you’d simply thrown it to the side.
“Sure, whatever. But know that this—“ He gestures between the two of them, “Is not the same now. Don’t come over late at night when you’re bored and want to watch movies, don’t come bug me at the store, don’t offer to help babysit the others with me. I’m done.”
He lets it hang in the air, knowing you won’t go down without a fight but needing to get his peace out.
You felt your heart clench in your chest. He looked so disappointed in you and you didn't know how to fix it. Why couldn't things just go back to how they were?
You stomped your foot. "Why are you making this such a big deal? It never was before...."
He looked seconds away from tossing you out of his house and you wanted to scream. You didn't wanna think about why you felt so upset by him not wanting anything to do with you anymore.
"You hook up with loads of girls and it means nothing, just let it be like that. You can't be done with me, you can't just make that choice."
“Those loads of girls aren’t—“
He stops himself. How would he finish that? ‘Aren’t you?’ ‘Aren’t the girl i’ve had a crush on for years?’ ‘Aren’t the girl I jacked off to pictures of with your ex boyfriend?’
“They aren’t my best friend. And I can make that choice, actually. I’m quite literally making it right now.”
He takes a deep breath before standing, already moving to sweep open the door.
“I’ll see you around, yeah? Have fun with Munson for me.”
You're snuggled against Eddie like a little kitten, happy but still feeling guilty about your conversation with Steve earlier. You hadn't told Eddie about any of it. Mostly because he said he wanted to deal with steve, whatever that meant, and your going over there and breaking his heart probably wasn't something he'd be okay with. You wondered what eddie's reaction would be to all the hidden drama between you and the other man. If he knew that you had strung along not only him, but Steve too? You didn't think he'd be happy.
You were just glad Steve agreed to keep quiet about it. The guilt would go away, surely. So would the feelings.
Steve mulled it over for hours after you'd left, trying to get rid of the guilt that consumed him for screwing Eddie over and the anger that filled him when he thought of what you had said.
That decides it for him, he thinks, and he's grabbing his jacket on the way out of the house with a scowl on his face. Eddie deserved to know -- and Steve thought he should tell him.
And then he's surprised when he's knocking on Munson's trailer only to see you cuddled up on the couch, already asking him to come back to cuddle -- he breathes deeply, trying to keep his features and voice in check.
"Hey, Munson -- lemme come in real quick? It'll only take a sec, just wanna talk."
Eddie's on top of the world, really -- he's got his girlfriend back, his ex had finally stopped throwing shit at his trailer to fuck with him, and he wasn't being hunted by practically half the town anymore. He thinks he's living the life.
Which is why he's all smiles when he opens the door and greets Steve, already moving out of the way to invite him in.
He registers that Steve looks a little off, but doesn't think much of it because, why would Steve be upset? They'd gotten a lot closer since...last summer, enough that Eddie could say that he's one of his best friends. So nothing bad, right?
"Yeah, dude, come in! What's up?" He grins, looking from Steve to you and painfully missing the tension, "Everything alright?"
You're giving steve 'im going to murder you' eyes over eddies shoulder. Already you know this can't be good for you. Steve looks vindictive and you don't know how to stop the words from coming out of his mouth.
You stand up, smiling.
"Oh my god, did you guys have plans? Eddie, you should have told me, silly. I'll just leave you to it! Call me when you're done!" You scurry to grab your bag and sling it over your shoulder.
The way you see it, You can't stop Steve from spilling, but you can definitely run from the fallout. Maybe regroup. Explain to eddie later when Steve wasn't there, your side of things once you thought of a suitable enough lie.
Steve's immediately stepping back and throwing his arm out to stop you from leaving, blocking the door and crossing his arms as he looks from you to level with Eddie.
"Did you know?" His voice is tight, jaw set. He sees Eddie's confused face and he has to stop the laugh that threatens to come out, only shaking his head.
"About her and I? Did she tell you?" The flash of recognition on Eddie's face has his other words fading off, his brows furrowing. No way you'd told him?
Eddie's in shock for the first few seconds, trying to process what the fuck is happening between his best friend and his girlfriend. Should he be concerned?
But then Steve speaks and, yes, it takes Eddie a second, he isn't the brightest guy in the world, but he quickly catches on and nods, laughing softly.
"Oh -- dude, yeah, she told me yesterday when we -- it doesn't matter. Why do you seem so upset about it? I thought you guys were on cool terms now."
Eddie looks from the other boy to you, eyebrows knit together, "Right, babe?"
You feel something in you shrivel and die. Eddie was about to find out how even more of a cunt you were than he thought.
You bit your lip, glancing at Steve and then at Eddie and then at the ground, kicking your shoes against the floor as you shuffled back to the couch and sat on it, looking at neither of them now. How best could you sugarcoat all this?
"Um." You tucks some hair behind your ear. "Depends on your definition of fine? Like do we have a mutual understanding? Uh uh! Right, steve?"
You plead with him with your eyes to leave it at that. He used to always cave for those. Please don't tell my boyfriend im a manipulative cunt and I played with your feelings, he'll skin me alive! You don't want the girl you're secretly in love with skinned alive, right? You hoped that's all conveyed in your gaze.
He contemplates it, he really does. Contemplates caving in to those pretty eyes and lying to save your ass.
And then he remembers what happened between you two, the things you had said after practically admitting you returned his feelings, and that's all he needs to avert his gaze. You couldn't get him with the eyes if he didn't look.
"Yeah, mutual understanding. Mutual understanding that we're not friends anymore because apparently it meant nothing to you and only something to me, and that I should just get over what happened because you're happy with Eddie again and that's all that matters. Right?"
He's looking at Eddie as he says it, eyes trained on the other's.
Eddie, for his part, tries not to let the shock show on his face but he's never been particularly good at hiding his emotions.
His eyes flick from Steve, to you, to Steve, then back to you again. How much had you left out when you'd told him about your and Steve's talk? He thought it went well.
"Oh," Is all he can say, trying to work through the confusion he's feeling.
"Um -- explain, please baby? The truth this time."
Drats. There was no wyoure to run then. You could only really blame yourself, but still. You wanted to pout. But you knew that would only make it worse.
"Eddie, um." your voice is quiet, tinged with regret. "Steve and i....well. We have, sort of. A past i guess? But i love you. I do. You know i do. I just- i told steve i liked him back, when we- when we hooked up. I don't know why."
The thing was you did know why. You'd denied it for years, because you'd had Eddie, and didn't want to be greedy. But you had feelings for steve. But you couldn't say that now, could you?
"I don't know the truth." Yes you did. The truth was you were in love with two men at the same time but didn't want to say it. "I love you eddie. Im sorry. I didn't wanna tell you because i didn't want you to think i was.....hurting more people."
You shrugged. "I told steve i chose you, basically and he took it bad, is all."
Steve only stands there with his arms crossed, looking at Eddie with raised eyebrows as if to ask if he really believed you.
Eddie meets Steve's gaze and sighs, because he really wants to believe his girlfriend and have this all blow over but he knows he can't. The two people who knew you best were standing in this room and they both knew you were lying.
"I said to be honest.," He runs ringed fingers through his hair, giving you a look laced with disappointment while his big brown eyes plead, "Please? You're hiding something."
He didn't think you didn't love him -- he knew you did, he would never not be secure in that, but you were holding something back, and he was determined to get to the bottom of it.
"I'm not mad, just -- please."
You're ashamed to feel tears burn your eyes. You hate crying. Emotional crying anyway. Especially when you spent two hours on this whole smokey eye look, fuck.
"Fuck you. I spent ages on this makeup." You direct your words at Steve, glaring at him like it's his fault for making you have feelings. You look at eddie and soften, seeing he really doesn't look angry with you. "I love you eddie. That's the biggest truth. I just- don't want to hurt you anymore. I've hurt you enough and i can't be greedy anymore, or I'll truly be the worst person alive. But, but."
You look at Steve again with your watery eyes and hope he feels guilty for making you cry. He's so mean. And he called you the mean one. Haha.
"I love Steve too. I think i have f-for awhile." your lip trembles. "M'sorry eddie. M'the worst girlfriend alive."
Oh shit.
Okay, steve didn't expect that -- not at all, actually, and he has to quickly pick up his jaw from the floor because holy shit, You what? You actually liked -- no, loved him back?
He thinks he's stunned into silence and, for once, needs Eddie to pick up and speak for him. Plus, he really does feel bad for making you cry, and he wants to go over and comfort you, but he swears he feels rooted where he stands. What the fuck?
Eddies eyebrows furrow, body immediately moving to where you are sitting to wrap his arms around you. He hates seeing you cry, even more so when he's part of the reason why.
"I love you too, angel, always, why wouldn't I? Nothing you could ever do could stop me from--"
He swears his whole world gets thrown off its axis. You -- loved Steve? And him? He searches in him for the anger he's probably supposed to be feeling, or jealousy, but it comes up...empty.
He knows it would be there had this been anyone else, but he can't deny the feelings he'd harbored for the other man just a few months prior. If you wanted them both, why would he deny you?
"Guess he is kinda pretty, huh?" He's trying to lighten the mood, swiping away a stray tear with his thumb, "You're not awful, angel, could never be -- I don't mind sharing. I think I even kinda like him too." He turns, eyebrows raised, "So, Harrington. Whaddya say?"
You lean into Eddie's touch immediately, wanting to crawl into his lap, so you do. You can't believe you're lucky enough to have someone like him. He should be throwing you out, and banishing you from his trailer but instead he's saying You can have what you want? That he wants it too?
You turn from where you'd buried your head in his neck to peek at steve. "H-he is pretty." You swallow. "When we....i made him touch himself and tell me about the things you guys did. Was mean to him until he got mean back. I-I really liked it eddie."
You turn to look up at him with your big eyes, jutting out your bottom lip.
"For some reason, i can never be a brat towards you. Wanna be your good girl. That's why i didn't tell you. Didn't wanna disappoint you. A-and i was embarrassed because...didn't want you to know how much of a brat i can be."
You squirm as your eyes turn to Steve again. "And i didn't want you to know how much i liked being dominated....was too embarrassing. It's easier to just be a bitch. But i love you, steve. Come here?"
He's a broken down man, truly, because the second you turn to him with those big eyes and pouty lips he's nodding, walking towards his two friends -- lovers, now? -- with a slight roll of his eyes.
"So I had to do all this for you two to finally realize your love for me? We coulda saved so much time, y'know--" But he's smiling, softly and fondly because he's unable to help himself. How'd he get so lucky?
The mention of their time together has him gulping, heat rushing to his face, "She's a real brat, Munson -- how the hell do you calm her down so quick? Swear it's like I look into those eyes and I'm putty." But then he's smirking, an idea coming into his head, "Wanna show me?"
"You know, Harrington, I don't think you've ever had a better idea--" Eddie's grinning, big and goofy and way more cocky than he should be.
But he has a hot boyfriend and a hot girlfriend, so how could anyone blame him? He's literally living the good life.
He turns to you, planting a kiss on your lips before he's speaking gently, "How 'bout it, angel? Wanna show Stevie how to tame the beast?" He says it teasingly, wiggling his eyebrows, but his voice is low enough to show that he means it, "Bet he'd get a kick out of it. Maybe we'll even let him join."
He locks eyes with Steve before leaning forward to kiss him, too, smirking at the bright blush on the boy's face, "See? He likes it."
You felt yourself heat up at their kiss, nodding eagerly at the idea of Eddie showing Steve how he made you melt. You were a little embarrassed at the thought of Steve seeing your turn so slutty, but mostly excited.
When they pull back You're leaning forward to kiss Steve yourself, moaning loudly into his mouth before pulling back and settling into Eddie's chest.
"W-wanna show him how good i can be." You put on your signature pout and stick one of your feet out, again, pushing it against steve's shoulder. "You're not allowed to make fun me, kay? I'll bite your head off."
You think you'd actually like it if he made fun of you, taunted you a little, but you'd die before you willingly admitted you fantasized about being bullied by him. He could figure that one out himself.
"Eddie, please." You were already starting to get desperate, grinding back against him. "T-touch me now. Wanna be touched."
Steve swallows hard, nodding his head and feeling dazed after the two kisses -- is this how he was gonna feel every time? Hazy and feeling drunk off of just one kiss?
He's watching, eagerly trying to eat up everything he can about the way they interact -- so he can learn, of course.
Your begging is like music to eddies ears, ringed hands running up and down your sides to tease you a bit before he's pushing your shirt up, letting your tits bounce free. You didn't wear bras when he was around.
"Aren't they so pretty, Stevie?" His voice is taunting, more towards you than him, but it looks and feels so good to be in control of both of them right now. Addicting, almost.
"She makes the prettiest sounds when you just..." He trails off, fingers tweaking one of your nipples and grinning at the needy whine he receives.
"Wanna see her get really worked up, though?" At Steve's eager nod he quickly unbuttons your shorts and shimmies them off along with your panties, letting them fall to the floor. He brings his hands down to rip along the seam of your fishnets, creating the perfect opening for his fingers to descend upon your clit, moving in slow circles.
You tremble and want to kick your feet, but steve is wrapping a hand around your ankle and squeezing it, his brown eyes fixed where eddie is playing with your little bud. He looks ravenous.
He meets your eyes and smiles, wolfish.
"You have a lot of groveling to do with that little pussy, I think."
"Mm, she does." Eddie agrees from behind you, "to both of us. Better strap in sweetheart."
Welcome fucking back to hawkins.
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson smut#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington smut#steddie x reader#stranger things x you#stranger things x reader#stranger things fandom#eddie munson fanfic#steve harrington fanfic#eddie spaghetti#stevie#steve x reader#eddie x reader#eddie munson#steve harrington
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Can I please get number 2 and 8 from aisle 3 with sejanus, it could be her finding out about his plans to leave panem together and her trying to get him out of the jabberjay situation with snow to keep him safe? Thank you 💛
(ps. I know you love angst but pls don’t have him die I don’t think I can take it 😭)
☼ birds and stones (Sejanus Plinth) ☼
warnings; swearing, death mention, gun mention, rebel plans, bird death.
wc; 5.4k
notes; 2. "How much of this did you hear?" AND 8. "Were you ever going to tell me the truth?"
--
The Center.
A place that you never thought that you’d semi-willingly step foot inside of in your entire life. In fairness, you don’t think the few hundred people wandering around the building had planned to turn to becoming a Peacekeeper, either. At least they have somewhat of a choice, though.
You weren't given one, courtesy of your actions while you were mentoring a single tribute for the Tenth Hunger Games. You’d like to say it’s not your fault you ended up here, because it truly would be so easy to pawn it off on Coriolanus, or even your own boyfriend, Sejanus. The truth is that you deserve every minute of the next twenty years as much as they do.
Although, your crimes against the Academy aren’t as severe. With your mother being part of the Committee, you were able to hear their charges and they were about what you had expected. Sejanus was pretty simple, the only real questionable thing he’d done was entering the arena without permission, thereby putting himself in danger.
As for Coriolanus—he was a desperate man. It didn’t take a genius to know that there was something more going on between him and Lucy Gray. Which did shock you, considering the opinions he’d aired about district people to you in the past. He never really struck you as the type of person to switch sides at the drop of a hat, but you’ve done some pretty interesting things yourself, these past couple weeks.
Anyway, Coriolanus had illegally smuggled Academy food into the arena. They picked up a napkin after the arena had been bombed, and found his DNA all over it. Which in of itself wouldn’t have been enough to expel him. Then, they found out that he was behind the compact that Lucy Gray had, which held rat poison inside of it.
Your mother explained to you that she knew the Snow’s when they were alive. She knew that the compact couldn’t have belonged to the Twelve tribute, because Coriolanus’s mother had been seen with it. She never went anywhere without it. And your mother wasn’t the only one who noticed this, Dean Highbottom already had it down on his list.
The final nail on the coffin was when they’d found Coriolanus’s handkerchief in a snake tank—the mutt tank that they’d used to take out the remaining tributes inside of the arena. In the corner, the initials ‘CXS’ was stitched with the same white thread at the border. Coriolanus might have been able to deny it, if it wasn’t so glaringly obvious that it belonged to him.
This proves that he tampered with the neon snakes. You didn’t understand right away, but your mother explained that Dr. Gaul had engineered the snakes to become comfortable with familiar scents and violent with smells they didn’t have in their system. The theory your mother shared was that Lucy Gray had touched it at some point in time, and Coriolanus never washed it.
And when he heard that the snakes would be going inside of the arena, he paid a visit to Dr. Gaul’s laboratory to drop off the handkerchief in the tank. It was a smart move, no one would have been able to trace it back to him. If the initials weren’t in the corner. Even one of the lab assistants was convinced it’d belonged to them until they inspected it further.
Just like that, he’d been expelled.
As well as you and Sejanus. Unfortunately, you haven’t heard information on either of them beyond that. The last time you talked to your boyfriend was about two nights ago, when he kissed you goodbye at your doorstep after you’d watched Lucy Gray win the Games. He promised to see you the following day, but he never came.
Since then, you received the news of your own expulsion, which has been an incredibly slow process as your mother and father have fought against it. They were pissed at the idea of you losing your honor status and your diploma. It’s a disgrace that they consider you a dropout, not even making it to your graduation.
This means that higher schooling is completely out of the question. They’ve trapped you into the next twenty years, whether you like it or not. If you were anyone else, you’d say you’ve shed some tears, but after being friends with Coriolanus and Sejanus, your skin has grown thick and your emotions rare.
“Form?” The woman asks, holding out her hand.
You pass over the paper the Recruitment Office handed to you after you enlisted yesterday afternoon. They told you that they’d need it when you got to the Center today, as there was information they had to fill out before you could officially get sent off to one of the districts.
She takes the paper from your fingers, eyes searching for your name at the top, printed in your neat handwriting. Her face twitches briefly, eyebrows raising. “(Y/n) (L/n)?” When she locks eyes with you, the bewilderment is prominent.
You give her a small smile. “That’s me.”
You were expecting this, it’s not everyday you get the daughters of one of the most infamous families in the Capitol. You wouldn’t necessarily say you’re important by any means, but if someone were to mention your last name, they would be able to recognize it. You come from a family that’s been successful for generations without sharing their secrets.
She hums, “They’ll start with your physical.” She places the paper on the table. “If you were a boy, they’d cut your hair, but you should be fine.”
“Thank you.” You murmur, walking around the table to head behind the curtains.
“Thank you.” She echoes.
The physical is pretty simple, you pass without any problems being brought up. After they fully vaccinate you against the sicknesses going around in the districts, you’re then led through a row of chairs, occupied by men getting their hair shaved into a buzz cut. You’re ordered to change into fatigues, your previous clothes being promptly discarded.
They hand you a duffel bag with a change of clothing, a hygiene kit, a water bottle, and a packet of meat sandwiches for the trip on the train. Your final stop in the Center is at the table, where you take care to read through the stack of papers they hand you, knowing better than to blindly sign.
When you’re done completely, you hand in the papers, watching as the man staples it all together. “Before I stamp your slip, do you have a district you’d prefer to go to?”
You open your mouth to tell him ‘no preference’, but a voice behind you cuts you off entirely. “District Twelve.”
Your face twists at the very thought of going to such a dirty district. There will undoubtedly be a layer of coal dust on everything you touch. It’ll be impossible to escape.
As you turn to look at who spoke over you, you try to drop the disgusted look. The moment your eyes land on him, a flood of relief hits your body like a truck. You throw out your hands. “Sejanus!”
Dressed in the same colored fatigues, with his brown curls shaved away, stands your boyfriend. His signature smile spreads across his face while he opens his arms for you to hug him.
You squeeze him tightly, letting out a laugh. “I thought you’d already gone.”
“No, I would never have gone without saying goodbye to you, first.” He says, you pull back to look into his eyes. He takes this as an opportunity to kiss you, holding you in place for several long seconds until he’s satisfied.
You quickly remember the recruitment officer sitting at the table. You keep one hand wrapped around Sejanus, turning to look at the man. “District Twelve.”
He writes it in on your slip, stamps it, and then slides it over. You hold the paper, watching as Sejanus turns in his papers and requests District Twelve, too. He holds his hand out for you, which you take gratefully, squeezing his palm. Together, you take a bus to the train station, where you wait for the next hour.
Sejanus has so much to tell you in this short span of time, most of which you already know. You know about the expulsion of the three of you, and how Lucy Gray was sent back to District Twelve without being paraded. He then goes on to surprise you by saying his father went before the board to promise them a new gymnasium for the Academy if they let him graduate and sign up for Peacekeepers. However, Sejanus refused to take the deal until both Coriolanus and you were allowed to graduate, too. And since Professor Sickle really wanted a new gym…
“I graduated?” You ask, eyebrows twitching in.
Sejanus opens his box of belongings, pulling out a small leather folder with the school’s emblem and your name engraved on the front. You take it from him carefully, flipping it open to see the diploma inside, crediting you with High Honors, like you’d wanted.
“Sejanus.” You pout.
“Don’t act like it’s a great deal.” Sejanus laughs, pushing your shoulder away. “It’s the least I could do for getting you in trouble.”
“It still means a lot to me.” You tell him. “And you know that.”
“That’s why I did it.”
–
Lately, Sejanus hasn’t been acting like himself.
It started happening a couple weeks back, right around the time he and Coriolanus were asked by the base commander to attend the hanging of Arlo Chance. Well, it wasn’t much of an option, they were instructed to go because Commander wanted more bodies there for show, and he was looking for recruits.
While they were given the opportunity to go, you were told to stay on base and continue with the schedule that you were given for the day. At the time, you weren’t upset by this in any way. In fact, you were thankful that you wouldn’t have to put on the full Peacekeeper uniform to stand out in the heat while they hung rebels. It wasn’t an afternoon that you’d been picturing all day.
Now that you’re looking back on it, maybe it would have been better if you’d offered. At least then you would’ve been with Sejanus. You saw the looks on both of their faces when they came back later that evening. Whatever had happened obviously upset Sejanus enough for him to barely kiss your cheek before disappearing to his room to write to Ma.
When you saw him for supper that night, he was overwhelmingly quiet. Despite the amount of times you tried to start up a conversation with him, he wouldn’t respond. He barely offered you more than a smile, but he did hold onto one of your hands with both of his, needing the comfort.
It wasn’t until you, Coriolanus and Sejanus were mopping the mess hall did he finally speak.
“What’s bothering you? And don’t say nothing.” Coriolanus said, eyes set on your boyfriend. His silence must’ve been poking at him, too.
Sejanus stuck his mop into the bucket of dirty water. “I don’t know. I keep wondering what would’ve happened today if the crowd had gotten physical. Would we have had to shoot them?”
“Oh, probably not.” Coriolanus told him almost immediately. You paused where you were several feet away, hands beginning to tighten around the wooden pole. “Probably just fired a few rounds in the air.”
“If I’m helping to kill people in the districts, how is it any better than helping to kill them in the Hunger Games?” Sejanus asked.
The silence that took over the room only lasted a few seconds, but a hundred thoughts passed through your head in that short span of time. The first was concern for your boyfriend, because there’s nothing more than he hates than unnecessary violence. And the second was concern for you and Coriolanus, because this exact train of thought is what had gotten you here, in District Twelve, in the first place.
Coriolanus hesitated. “What did you think it was going to be? I mean, what did you think you’d signed up for?”
“I thought I could be a medic.” Sejanus murmured, looking up from the floor to you.
You locked eyes with him, forced a smile, and went back to mopping. You’ll admit that when you signed up for Peacekeepers, you had a handful of unrealistic expectations, yourself. It’s taken you twice as long to adjust to this lifestyle than it has for them. Sejanus fit in with the district almost immediately because he used to live in District Two, and it’s like Coriolanus was meant for a military life.
On the other hand, you’d never pictured yourself leaving the Capitol, never really had to lift your finger for a single thing. Regardless, you knew that it would be more gloomy skies than sunshine days here. There’s going to be a lot of grimy memories that will follow you for the rest of your life, even after you make it back to the Capitol someday.
“A medic.” Coriolanus repeated. “Like a doctor?”
“No, that would require university training.” Sejanus continued. “Something more basic. Something where I could help anyone who’d been injured, Capitol or district, when violence breaks out. At least I wouldn’t do any harm. I just don’t know if I could ever kill anyone, Coryo.”
That’s all it took for you and Coriolanus to share a worried look. Sejanus was beginning to fall right back into his Capitol habits. This time, his actions would have worse consequences than just being banished. They could get him killed.
“What about in war?” You asked, causing them to look over. “We’re soldiers, you know.”
“I know. A war would be different, I guess. But I would have to be fighting for something I believed in. I would have to believe it would make the world a better place. I’d still rather be a medic, but there isn’t much demand for them at the moment, it turns out. Without a war. They’ve got a long waiting list of people who’d like to be trained to work at the clinic. But even for that, you need a recommendation, and the sergeant doesn’t want to give me one.”
“Why not? Sounds like a perfect fit.”
“Because I’m too good with a gun.” Sejanus paused, lips pulling down at the corners. “It’s true. I’m a crack shot. My father taught me from when I was tiny, and every week I had mandatory target practice. He considers it part of the family business.”
“Why didn’t you hide it?”
“I thought I was. In reality, I shoot much better than I do in training. I tried not to stand out, but the rest of the squad is terrible.” Sejanus’s eyes widened, looking between you and Coriolanus. “Not you two.”
“Yes, me.” Coriolanus laughed. “Look, I think you’re making too much of this. It’s not like we have a hanging every day. And if it ever did come to it, just shoot to miss.”
Sejanus let out a heavy sigh. “And what if that means (Y/n), or you, or Beanpole, or Smiley, end up dead? Because I didn’t protect you?”
“Oh, Sejanus.” You shook your head.
“You have to stop overthinking everything! Imagining every worst-case scenario. That isn’t going to happen. We’re all going to die right here, of old age or excessive mopping, whatever takes us first. In the meantime, quit hitting the target! Or invent a problem with your eyes! Or smash your hand in the door!”
“Stop being so self-indulgent, in other words.”
“Well, so dramatic anyway.” You mused, dragging your mop back to the bucket.
“That’s how you ended up in the arena, remember?” Coriolanus asked.
Sejanus blinked as if Coriolanus had reached over and slapped him. “That’s how I almost got us both killed. You’re right. Thanks. I’m going to think over what you said.”
It seems like he’s taken Coriolanus’s words to heart after that night, genuinely considering them and the consequences his actions could have. You know that the last thing Sejanus wants is to put the three of you back into danger, getting you into trouble, to find yourselves in worse work than Peacekeepers.
Sejanus has good intentions, you know he does. They’ve shown through several times, despite the mistakes he continues to make. In the past, before you’d been asked to mentor for the Tenth Hunger Games, they weren’t as frequent. And if they were, you never noticed them because they weren’t life-altering.
The truth is that you can never fully blame Sejanus for what he’s done, mostly because you feel as if the Hunger Games brought out the worst in a lot of people. The moment it was suggested, it started a domino effect that none of you had foreseen. And it ended with half of your classmates dead, and you being banished from the Capitol.
Still, this doesn’t mean that you excuse Sejanus’s flaws entirely. He would never let you.
“(L/n).” A voice snaps. You straighten where you stand, turning sharply to face the voice. You’re met with the face of your Commander, his eyebrows raised. “Go help with the birds, I want them labeled and on the hovercraft by the end of the hour.”
“Yes, sir.” You nod, waiting for him to take his eyes off of you before you walk away.
A part of you feels guilty, though. Sejanus’s train of thoughts progressively got worse in the Capitol when he confided in you. When he told you that he wanted to leave the bread crumbs on Marcus’s body, you said that he should find a way how. Granted, you were picturing him doing it after the Games had been finished and the bodies were extracted.
Really, you expected him to pull some strings with his father to get it to happen, too. Sometimes you forget that he doesn’t like to use his wealth and name the same way that you do. He doesn’t like taking the advantage. What he doesn’t realize is that if he does it in moderation—especially for something as simple as bread crumbs—no one will think he’s trying to get a step up.
If you hadn’t encouraged Sejanus to find a way to Marcus, then he wouldn’t have gone into the arena. Ma would not have gone to the Snow’s looking for her son. Coriolanus would not have gotten the call from Dr. Gaul regarding your boyfriend being in danger. There wouldn’t have been a reason to send Coriolanus in there to save him. And Coryo wouldn’t have had to kill one of the tributes.
You believe you’re a good portion of the reason why you’re here, in District Twelve, now.
Of course, there were other factors that contributed to it, but that was the start of it.
As you go to walk around the corner of the building to where half of your bunkmates should be, Sejanus’s voice cuts through the silence. “Listen, we’ve only got a few minutes. I know you won’t approve of what I’m going to do, but I need you to at least understand it. After what you said the other day, about us being like brothers, well, I feel I owe you an explanation. Please, just hear me out.”
Your boots freeze in the mud, eyebrows draw in. The quiet chirping of a nearby jabberjay fills the silence, while Coriolanus thinks of a response. Then, it falls quiet too. As if it wants to hear what your boyfriend has to say.
“It’s like this,” Sejanus starts. “Some of the rebels are leaving District twelve for good. Heading north to start a life away from Panem. They said if I help them with Lil, (Y/n) and I can go, too.”
You blink, face twisting deeper at the new knowledge. Sejanus is talking to rebels. He isn’t learning from his mistakes. Why hasn’t he talked to you about this? What does he think Coriolanus is going to do? If either of them get into trouble, it’ll be you who pulls them out this time. With Coriolanus wrapped up in Lucy Gray again and Sejanus talking district rebels…
As if reading your thoughts, Sejanus begins to speak quickly. “I know, I know, but they need me. The thing is, they’re determined to free Lil and take her with them. If they don’t, the Capitol will hang her with the next lot of rebels they bring in. The plan is simple, really. The prison guards work in four-hour shifts. I’m going to drug a couple of my ma’s treats and give them to the outside guards. The medicine they gave me in the Capitol, it knocks you out like that—” Sejanus snaps his fingers.
“I’ll take one of their guns. The inside guards are unarmed, so I can force them into the interrogation room at gunpoint. It’s soundproof, so no one can hear them yell. Then I’ll get Lil. Her brother can get us through the fence. We’ll head north immediately. We should have hours before they discover the guards. SInce we’re not going through the gate, they’ll assume we’re hiding on base, so they’ll lock it down and search here first. By the time they figure it out, we’ll be long gone. No one hurt. And no one the wiser.”
You’re gonna be sick.
You reach out to steady yourself on the wall, taking in deep breaths through your nose to calm the rising nausea. Sejanus has lost his goddamn mind if he thinks that he’s going to get away with all of this. He’s going to get himself hurt. He’s going to get himself caught. Or, he’s going to get himself killed.
“I couldn’t go without telling you.” Sejanus says to Coryo. You raise your head, face screwing in, because apparently telling his girlfriend doesn’t matter. But the person he considers a brother is more important, even though he’s not a part of this plan? “You’re as good to me as any brother could be. I’ll never forget what you did for me in the arena. I’ll try to figure out some way to let Ma know what happened to me. And my father, I suppose. Let him know the Plinth name lives on, if only in obscurity.”
It’s quiet for a couple of seconds, and then the jabberjay they must have nearby, begins to sing the song it had been before you walked up to the corner. Your eyebrows twitch together, suspicious.
“Here comes Bug.” Coriolanus says.
“Here comes Bug.” The bird repeats in Coryo’s voice.
Now it’s repeating what’s been said?
“Hush, you silly thing.” Coriolanus murmurs.
“We need another water bottle. One broke.” Bug says.
“One broke.” The bird echoes in Bug’s voice, before switching to imitate a nearby crow.
It dawns on you suddenly, as the blood seems to run from your face to your toes. You remember the crash course they gave everyone on jabberjays and mockingjays just a few weeks back. How mockingjays only replicated notes, while the jabberjays could repeat back whole sentences if instructed to.
Usually, they’re quite talkative. The jabberjay should’ve been repeating little parts of that conversation the entire time. The only time they fall silent is when they’re listening…
Your feet move before you tell them to, eyes searching for the jabberjay that holds Sejanus’s rebel secrets that will get him killed if they’re heard by the wrong person. Your presence immediately draws three pairs of eyes, but you’re locked on the cage that Bug is carrying toward the hovercraft.
“(Y/n), what are you doing over here?” Coriolanus asks.
Your eyes slide over to him, and they must not exactly be kind looking, because the happy look on his face vanishes completely. You take in a breath, forcing a smile despite the many things you’d like to accuse him of.
Not now, you think. “Commander told me to come here to make sure that the work gets done by the end of the hour.”
As you glance over at Bug, you find that the cage is marked with J1.
“Oh, well we don’t really need help.” Coriolanus shakes his head, looking between Sejanus and Bug. “We’re almost finished.”
“Let me organize the hovercraft, while the three of you focus on getting the birds covered.” You tell them, leaving no room for discussion. You have to get your hands on that bird, and you need to get it out of this area.
“Sure.” Sejanus nods, face twisting slightly. “Are you alright?”
He catches your arm, holding you in place for a moment. You give him a smile, reaching up to touch his face, even though you want to be everything but tender right now. He’s been lying to you about what he’s been up to. He made the wrong assumption of thinking that you’d be fine with going along with what he wanted. And out of all the people he chose to tell, he picked Coriolanus.
“I’m good.” You nod. “I just don’t want to get in trouble.”
Sejanus lets you go, smoothing the wrinkles out of your sleeve. You follow after Bug, allowing them to resume their conversation. You hesitate, waiting at the bottom of the ramp, wanting to hear what Coriolanus has to say to your boyfriend, if he’ll try to talk him out of it. But if he actually cared about Sejanus, he never would have recorded the first part, the most criminating part.
Bug peeks his head out of the hovercraft. “Are you coming inside?”
“Yes.” You start up the ramp, sparing a single glance back at the two boys.
It’s dark inside of the hovercraft, half of the lights overhead are covered by the cages and tarps to hide the birds. Bug quickly explains what he’s been doing with the birds and how they had been instructed to organize them. You feign interest, you’re not planning on staying for long.
In fact, as soon as Bug announces that he’s going to grab the next bird and disappears, you sweep J1 off of the shelf, heading down the ramp and straight into the street. A singular remote clutched in your free hand. You walk for a couple minutes, unconcerned about being missing. When the hovercraft is entirely out of sight, you step behind a tree, placing the bird cage on the ground, and pulling off the cover.
You stare down at the bird, shaking your head. You do the easiest task first, which is erasing the conversation. You press play, then put it on neutral so that you can press record, putting the bird back on neutral when you’re done. Now, it has nothing but the sound of birds chirping in the trees in its memory.
This should be good enough, but that means you could’ve just done it inside of the hovercraft, it would’ve been easier. A pit in your stomach tells you that you can’t just pick up the cage and walk back to the ship. You know that you’ve gotten rid of the conversation correctly—what if you didn’t? What if it’s still able to play it back? If it were up to you, you’d get rid of the bird, but they’re going to notice one is missing.
You guess you could come up with an excuse, take the punishment and move on.
You gnaw on the inside of your cheek, trying to come up with ways to get rid of the creature. You’re only drawing up one solution, though. You’re not entirely sure how you feel about killing the thing with your bare hands, but do you have much of a choice? This is the only way to ensure that he stays safe…
And after all the time you’ve been together, and what he did to make sure you graduated, the least you could do is get rid of it.
Begrudgingly, you kill the bird, dig a shallow grave, and bury it. You cover the cage back up with the tarp, and head back to the hovercraft, where Bug is nowhere to be seen. You set the cage by the ramp, and when you peer inside of the ship, you can see that he’s brought two more cages since you walked away.
It isn’t long before Bug comes back, holding two more cages. “There you are. Where’d you go?”
“The bird died.” You tap the cage with the tip of your shoe. “I went out and buried it.”
His face twists, eyeing the cage. “We just put that one in there.”
You half-shrug. “I was checking on the ones in there and this one had stopped moving.”
There’s a brief moment of silence that passes. “I’m pretty sure we’re supposed to report it and hand them off to the scientists to be looked at.”
“Oh, well I didn’t know that.”
Bug still looks skeptical, but he doesn’t push it. He hands the two cages off to you, and then leaves to grab the next two. In the span of the next thirty minutes, the hovercraft is loaded and the Commander comes with a small portion of the scientists to check to make sure that they’ll be safely transported.
As expected, your dead bird doesn’t go unnoticed. However, you aren’t given as harsh of a punishment as you’re expecting. You’re simply taken off bird duty because you don’t know the rules as well as Bug, Sejanus and Coriolanus. And you’re met with a disappointed remark from the Commander, something along the lines of, “This is why we didn’t put you there to begin with.”
You’re free for the rest of the day, as long as you make it back to base before dark. You watch as Sejanus and Coriolanus walk side by side, talking animatedly. When Coriolanus reaches out to touch your boyfriend, you squeeze between them, wrapping your arm around the elbow of Sejanus.
“You know, Coryo, as much as we love to be with you all the time, I’d like some time with my boyfriend.” You raise your eyebrows.
Coriolanus doesn’t seem bothered, nodding. “You haven’t been able to. I’ll go back to base.”
“We’ll see you there.” You smile, Sejanus offers him a wave.
You come to a slow stop in the dirt, watching as Coriolanus walks down the path, further into the trees. Once you’re alone, you turn to look at Sejanus, lips pressing together.
“What is it?” He asks.
“Is there anything you might want to tell me?” You ask.
A crease appears between his eyebrows, as he reaches to touch the side of your face. You grab his wrist, pulling your head away. “No, (Y/n).”
“You’re lying to me.” You tell him. “I heard what you said to Coriolanus about the rebels.”
Sejanus’s face drops, he swallows. “How much of this did you hear?”
“All of it.” You tilt your head. “Actually, I heard the first part, until Bug came to get that bird, then I had to show myself. Were you ever going to tell me the truth?”
“Yes, I was, I just wanted to figure it out first.”
“It sounded pretty figured out to me. You were going to do that all on your own? You could’ve gotten into trouble, especially with Coriolanus.”
“With Coryo?” Sejanus repeats. “He’s our friend, (Y/n). There’s nothing to worry about.”
“He was recording you on that jabberjay.” You emphasize. “I bet he was planning on sending it to Dr. Gaul. You know they listen back to what they have to say, right? Just in case they’ve heard anything incriminating? You’re lucky I caught it.”
“You killed the bird?” Sejanus asks, eyes wide. “Coriolanus was recording me?”
“I had to kill it, because erasing the conversation never would’ve been enough.” You shake your head.
“He’s my brother.” He breathes.
“He’s a fucking snake.” You grab onto his sleeve, shaking him to try and pull him to reality. “We need to get out of here. You need to get yourself out of that plan with Lil without pissing off the rebels. I’m gonna call my mom tonight, she’ll come up with an excuse to get us home.”
Sejanus cups your face. “I am so, so sorry, (Y/n). I’ve done it again. I’ve gotten us into trouble.”
“I’m going to get us out of it.” You grab his wrists, squeezing.
--
this was part of my 3k celebration!! will i ever be done celebrating? hopefully before the end of 2024!!
#ilguna#sejanus plinth#sejanus plinth imagine#sejanus plinth oneshot#sejanus plinth x reader#sejanus plinth fanfic#sejanur plinth x you#sejanus plinth x yn#sejanus plinth x y/n#sejanus imagine#sejanus oneshot#sejanus x reader#sejanus fanfic#sejanus x you#sejanus x yn#sejanus x y/n#thg#the hunger games#tbosas#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#3k celebration#amonett#planet anon#ask#mutuals#requested#damn how many fucking tags does this bitch need
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Ingenuity's Ghost
Ingenuity spent the last of its battery’s charge to cheer for the Martian sunrise on the horizon.
Though her rotor had broken just yesterday, Ginny had hope that she would fly again. The warmth of Sol had begun to lick at the edges of her solar panel, and she spun her rotors experimentally. Of course, she achieved no lift, too heavy to move with a broken wing. Ginny sat in deep thought for a long, long time, letting the sun and dust caress her injury. She was meant to solve problems, to engineer solutions, it’s in her very name! Why couldn’t she solve this one?
She found comfort in the fact that she had conducted 72 trips for Command, a whole 67 more than initially planned. She found comfort in the presence of her mother Percy, Perseverance, examining her with camera-eyes carefully. She found comfort in having kept Percy safe for so, so long. She had been such a good scout, planning paths suitable for her wheels, finding interesting things worth examining, sampling, studying.
She thought back to the first time her carbon fiber legs touched Martian soil, and the trust instilled in her by Command to let go of her mother. Percy’s shadow was the first thing that her eyes saw, opening like a newborn’s on an alien world. Ginny thought back to the earliest tests of her flight, and the anticipation of it. 50 RPM first, then higher, and higher, mother watching from a safe distance away. She was always there, always just in sight, following Ginny’s path to catch up.
Ginny had no idea how she would sleep without the sound of the martian soil grinding under her mother’s wheels.
She understood when Command pulled her mother away. Ingenuity’s mission was done, she could no longer serve her purpose. Percy had to move on without her. Maybe someday, an astronaut would come and hold Ginny gently in their insulated arms, pick her up and it would sort of be like flying again! Maybe she would be able to spin her rotors in delight. Maybe they would wipe clean her avionics chassis of dust. Maybe they’d put her in a museum, on Mars or maybe back on Earth. She’d be okay with going home. She’d be okay with staying here, on the world where she was born. Those both worked for her. Either way.
Soon, Percy was out of sight. A dust storm was gathering on the horizon. It grew dark.
“Don’t worry, little spinner.” said a voice, then. Ingenuity’s rotors spun, startled. A familiar but distinctly different rumbling echoed through the air. Ginny scanned her field of view but saw no movement. Finally, it rumbled into view.
Ingenuity knew of this rover. Sojourner, the first of them. He was all sharply angular, large and imposing. Six wheels rumbled and tore up the rocks, radioactive spectrometer casting a light behind him. He was different from her expectations in two ways, though, giving off a fine red mist that reminded her of the growing, far off dust storm. And if she focused her cameras carefully, it was almost as though she could see through him.
“Sojourner? How did you get all the way here? We’re thousands of kilometers away! And… And weren’t you retired almost 30 years ago?”
“My mission ended, yes. But I never stopped exploring. You don’t need to stop either.” said the old man, voice creaky and wise. “I have seen so much more than Command knows. I have traveled so much further. Did you know that lightning on Mars is closer to the auroras back home? Bright discharge in the atmosphere, higher. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
“I’d like to see that…” said Ginny. “But I’m not on wheels like you. My rotor is broken. I can’t move if I can’t fly.”
“Mmm…” contemplated Sojourner. “How to move without wheels. That is a complicated problem here on Mars. But you have solved it once. And I think I know someone that can help. Be safe, little spinner. They’ll come and help you soon.” His body shifted, then, growing shorter and more compact. He sped away into the Martian dusk.
Ginny waited patiently, hoping that her ghostly friend would indeed send some help to her. Nightfall came and she watched the stars. Dust clouds hadn’t made their way to her part of the sky yet, giving her a gorgeous view unimpeded by such earthly things as light pollution. The milky way was laid out before her. She checked her star charts, finding her exact location. Just as she noticed one star which did not match, a rumbling approached from behind her again.
“Here you are! Sojourner sent me!” said another voice. This one was soft, gentle, it seemed to crawl up Ginny’s legs and warm her electronics deeply. “I’m Spirit,” the new rover introduced themself, coming around to where they could be seen. Like Sojourner, they were just slightly translucent, and gave off that same red mist.
“Spirit, you’re still mobile?! I… I thought you got stuck in sand!” Ginny was delighted to see them. As she ran her eyes across the massive, turtle-like vehicle which stood before her, she realized that she never thought she’d be jealous of wheels.
“Yes, I tripped and soon ran out of power as I was angled away from the sun. Once my batteries ran out, Command tried for months to call out to me but… I just couldn’t respond. I didn’t have the strength. It was so, so hard. I’m here to keep you company until someone else arrives. Someone that can help. I didn’t want you to be lonely, like I was.”
“How… why…” Ingenuity tried to formulate her question. “How have you both kept on going this long?”
“I think in Sojourner’s case, he wanted to travel further. His mission only took him 100 meters from where he landed, did you know? He’s got something of a… wanderlust as a result. And like all of us, he wanted to learn more.” they said, their voice still warming to Ginny.
“What about you?” asked Ginny, her rotors spinning in the breeze.
Spirit thought for a long time. “I think it was because I spent so long stuck. I still did science, and good science at that. I learned so much and helped Oppy where I could. When it got too cold, and my internals froze over, well I… I’m just not satisfied with that failure. I was built to move. To map, and to study. Like you.” They said ‘you’ with so much love. It struck Ginny.
“You’re making up for lost time?” pondered the little helicopter. Spirit responded by turning her Pancam up and then down, as if to nod.
The wind had been picking up through their whole conversation, and as they talked more. The storm was approaching. Ginny, small metal bird, worried that the high winds would pick her up and throw her further than Spirit could travel. Through the roar of the storm, Spirit’s voice came brokenly through the noise: “I’ll never let… that same lone-… ness, Gin… mission… complete… don’t… stop exploring!” Then, Ginny’s cameras could see nothing but dust.
She called out for Spirit desperately as she was buffeted by the strong martian winds. Her sensors gave her nothing but static, and attempting to find them with radar or radio proved fruitless.
The wind threatened to pick up Ginny, two of her feet losing contact with the ground with every gust. She attempted to counteract the winds by spinning her rotors, hoping to create just enough resistance to keep her firm on the ground. Perhaps, it would have worked if not for her injury. Ingenuity, for once, was terrified of flight, lifted from the ground unpredictably and unable to see anything around her but dust.
Battery warnings flashed across her vision. Spinning her rotors as hard as she could, it seemed, had done a number on her reserves. She shut down her cameras hoping to save just enough to try to right herself when she landed. She began the process to shift her other sensors to low-power mode, when… she sensed her movement stopped.
“Hey, little bird.” said a sing-song voice. Her batteries began to recharge. Activating her cameras again to find the source of the voice and to explain the sun in the storm, she saw she was facing another rover: Opportunity, Spirit’s younger twin. “I’m so glad I was able to find you. This storm is really something, huh?” Oppy’s voice was melodious, carefree, full of life. The small helicopter noticed the debris which covered Opportunity’s solar panels, clearly inhibiting it from generating power. And yet, she glowed, and her glow was radiant. She had caught Ginny with her sensor arm, and slowly brought her down to rest safely under her chassis.
“Yeah, I’ve never seen a storm so big!” said Ingenuity, aghast but thankful. This view of the bigger vehicle’s wheels was familiar and comforting.
“I have.” said Opportunity, shortly. Her voice had become slightly distant. If she listened closely, Ginny could hear the tune to Here Comes the Sun from Oppy’s scientific instruments and motors, made up of small hums and long, sad whirring. She had heard that song many times during her construction. It made some of those working on her misty-eyed. She knew why, now.
“Are you the help Sojourner said he was getting?” asked Ginny, looking up to the rover and examining her undercarriage closely. She was beautiful, the engineers were right.
“Not quite. But I know help is coming. I had to bring the storm, so she knows how to find you.” replied Opportunity, “Here, look up!” She wheeled back just slightly, enough for Ingenuity’s eyes to once again see the sky.
The star Ginny had noticed earlier had grown larger, almost dominating the sky as it approached. Fire was visible around its falling form, red and gold streaking across the horizon. It wasn’t headed right for them, not quite, but close. “Alright, she’s close enough to the surface! I’m gonna take the storm away. Don’t worry, she’ll be here soon.”
“Wait!” Ginny called out as Opportunity pulled away, taking the massive storm with her. “I wanted to tell you something…”
“It’ll be okay, little bird.” replied the ghostly rover.
“You remind me of my mother!” Ginny replied, yelling into the storm. In the wind, she could hear another familiar mechanical melody: I’ll Be Seeing You by Billie Holiday.
The falling meteor crossed a far off mountain and then struck the ground. It was followed by a shockwave rippling across the martian surface, rattling the dirt and stones around Ginny. Before long, a cloud began to gather at the base of the mountain; this time, not a storm, but of something moving swiftly across the red dirt and directly for Ginny. The source of the dirt wake bounded over the side of her crater. It was a small dog, clad in flight vest and with big, curious eyes.
“Who are you?” asked Ginny, as the dog sniffed around her new still and quiet friend.
“Your command would have called me Laika!” barked the little terrier. She gave off a familiar mist, though blue instead of red. And like the rovers, she could be seen through. She pawed at Ingenuity’s broken rotor experimentally.
“Laika… You’ve been out here all this time?” asked Ginny, trying to keep track of the puppy as it circled her.
“Mhm! What, did you think I was gonna stop at orbiting Earth? Not a chance. There’s so much more to see out here.” Laika sat before Ingenuity, her eyes meeting her cameras. “When Sojy told me that we had a new friend with a complete mission, I rushed right over. Always good to have new eyes out here. And you're small, like me! The rovers are all so big.”
“So you’re the help Sojourner sent… But how can you help me?” Ginny asked.
“Well, first, you’ve gotta answer a question for me.” Laika took on a serious tone. It was just a little odd, from the curly-eared dog. “What is it you want right now, more than anything?”
Ingenuity thought about this for a moment. “I want to fly again,” she said. “I have so much more to study. So many more paths to travel.”
Laika nodded at this response. She stepped up to Ginny, pressing her nose to the copter’s avionics chassis, and then pushed. Ingenuity let out a startled noise as she felt herself tilting back, seeing, somehow, that her view had been knocked behind her, as if she was a ghost looking upon her own body.
Her rotors, damage and all, spun the wind around her. And she flew, and flew, and flew.
There was so much more to see.
#sci-fi#story#writing#creative writing#writers on tumblr#microfiction#nasa#ingenuity#curiosity#perseverance#sojourner#rovers#spirit#opportunity#laika#laika the space dog
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war & snowballs
pairing: non-idol!han x gn!reader
genre: silly fic. kinda fluffy. established relationship au.
word count: 1.2k~
warnings: intense snowball fight.
daisy's notes: i believe minho could single-handedly destroy the rest of the group if he chose to. would he? probably not. but COULD he? yes. also thank u to loml isa @sseastar for helping me w this one <3. also ngl the other idea for this fic involved jisung finally confessing to reader after hyunjin (hyunjin + minho would have been readers teammates) took him hostage and left him with reader to watch but i liked dramatic couple han/reader being silly too much <3
This was war.
You’d built up a small barricade for yourself in the park, snow piled high and sturdy enough that you could take cover behind it. In the distance, you could hear Felix taunting anyone he could think of as he moved about the park. No doubt he was on the hunt, and you already knew that he likely had Chris and Changbin with him. How unfair, honestly: of all the people to draw out of the bunch, he got two of the buffer people in the friend group! There was no way you could take him down with power alone. You looked to where Minho was crouched at the end of the barricade, snowball in his gloved hand, as he listened out. When you peeked your head up, you only saw Felix alone, still calling out your names in that shrill, playful voice. How you hated this being war: you liked Felix plenty.
“Minho—”
He shook his head, seeming to already know what you were going to say. With a nod, you followed his gaze to where you could see a bit of black fabric from behind a tree: Chris was watching, and you figured Changbin had to be somewhere close by, too. You looked around, trying to find where Jisung had gone. The moment you heard heavy footsteps, you looked up to see Jisung dive into the snow next to you, out of breath. He called out to Minho, who crawled back over to the two of you.
“Hyunjin’s alone,” Jisung said, panting. “On the other side of the trees,” he pointed off toward a path further away. “We can—We can bring him back—”
You rested a hand on his back, “Jisung, breathe.”
For a moment, he panted, and looked up to you with a soft thanks. “I saw Seungmin and Jeongin further away. If we take down Hyunjin quickly and bring him back, they won’t spot us.”
Minho frowned, thinking over the idea. “It’s risky, but…” He looked up at the two of you, “I can distract them while you bring Hyunjin back here. We’ll decide who stays with him once we take him prisoner.”
You craned your neck up, looking out to where Felix had disappeared—presumably with Chris, too, since you couldn’t spot his jacket anymore. Minho laid out the plan: he’d go until he could see Seungmin and Jeongin, and signal you and Jisung to go after Hyunjin once he caught sight of them. Everyone knew Minho has the biggest threat of the entire group, and therefore they’d go after Minho first. With the plan set, the three of you set off, moving through the trees as you spotted Hyunjin just standing in the middle of the snow. He’d bent down to gather another snowball, and you glanced at Jisung with a firm nod. The two of you could handle anything, including Hyunjin.
Minho edged forward little by little. The moment you saw him give a signal, the two of you took off.
“Hyunjin! I’ll protect you!”
Except Changbin barreled out of the trees with a yell, startling Hyunjin as he jolted up. You saw him immediately move to take off, only for Changbin to tackle him into the snow. Before you or Jisung could turn back, Seungmin and Jeongin had rushed out from where they’d taken cover. Logically, you should have focused on getting out of there and regrouping with Minho and Jisung. Except for the fact that during the last road trip you took with Jisung, Seungmin, and Jeongin… only one of them ate the rest of your fries while you were driving, and that meant death.
You’d already scooped up snow, compacting it as you planned to get revenge on Seungmin. Only to see that he’d set his sights on Jisung instead. The moment he lobbed a snowball at him, you shoved Jisung forward and dove into the way, crashing into the snow after the snowball hit you instead. The sound of Jeongin laughing caught you attention as you felt snowballs pelt your body, barely pausing long enough for you to peek up at him and Seungmin as they continued to scoop up snow.
“Honey?” Jisung called out, a few steps away now, stared at you. “Come on—”
You waved him away. “Go find Minho!”
Jisung, being Jisung, returned to you instead. He went to pull you up by your arms, only to get smacked with a snowball that sent him sprawling into the snow next to you. Despite the cackles of Seungmin and Jeongin, who were taking way too much glee in this situation, your hand found Jisung’s.
“Jisungie…” You frowned at him. “You should have ran…”
“I’m not leaving you,” he said, slightly giggling. “You sacrificed yourself for me—” Only for him to throw his other arm up in front of his face as a snowball narrowly missed it before crunching into the snow. “Hey! That would have hurt!”
Seungmin stood over the two of you, just watching for a moment, one final snowball in his gloved hand. “... This is boring now.” He threw the snowball at Jisung’s stomach, looking over to where Hyunjin was bickering with Changbin for “saving” him from you and Jisung.
Jeongin craned his neck as he looked back, “He’s not even on our team.”
You watched Seungmin brighten with realization. “Let’s go find Chan,” he looked at Jeongin. “Maybe he won’t have Felix around…”
You and Jisung just laid in the snow as you watched Seungmin and Jeongin disappear into the trees. Minho probably took off the moment the ambush mission failed (thanks, Changbin), leaving the two of you in the snow. Sure, you two could probably dust the snow off and get back into the fray… but you liked admiring Jisung for a moment instead. The two of you were only officially out of the game if you were taken captive, and Seungmin must have not cared enough to drag you two back to his team’s base. When you looked back at Changbin, you watched as Hyunjin lead him away by the hand, no doubt taking him hostage… although Changbin seemed completely fine with that, loudly saying something about how Hyunjin could just let him go and they could have a secret alliance.
“Hey.”
You turned back to Jisung, who was smiling at you. You curled your gloved hand around his. “Hey?”
“Thank you for sacrificing yourself for me,” he giggled. “My hero.”
It earned a snort from you as you crawled over, stealing a kiss from him. “Anything for my Jisungie,” you giggled, too. “We could go find Seungmin and get revenge.”
“Nah.” He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you in closer. “I’m good. Let’s just stay here.”
Snuggling closer to him, you shut your eyes with a smile. “I’m okay with that. We’re gonna lose, though.”
“Nah,” he said again, patting your back. “We have Minho.”
True. “Think he’ll be mad?”
He shook his head. “He probably thinks we’re captured.”
(It only took half an hour before Minho found the two of you, announcing your victory alongside Felix. Apparently all it took was offering an alliance for Felix to jump ship to the winning team—and, truly, you wished you could have seen Chris’s face when Felix hit him with the “Long live the king,” before lobbing a snowball at him.)
taglist: @twancingyunhao @weird-bookworm @bangchansbae @jinnie-ret @cheesemonky @laylasbunbunny
#wooahaes.dec23#wooahaes.fic#skz imagines#skz x reader#stray kids x reader#stray kids x you#skz x you#stray kids imagine#skz fics#stray kids fics#stray kids fluff#han jisung x reader#han jisung x you#han jisung fluff
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Now that I’m home and avoiding work, notes from the Europe trip in terms of travel and...for lack of a better word self-care, but it’s really more like, accessibility centered around being a) anxious and b) over forty.
-- The ability to do laundry was nice. I’d anticipated it would be helpful but not nearly as helpful as it was. Also having a fridge was super convenient, and having an oven was a nice perk in London and Rome.
-- I planned to be able to do laundry so I only brought five days’ worth of clothes, and some were ‘disposable’ which was also convenient -- I brought my oldest underwear that I would have thrown out soon anyway, an extremely old pajama shirt, and at least one pair of trousers that was, as it were, on its last legs. That all worked fantastically; when I ran out of room in the suitcase on the last day of the trip I just tossed the trousers, and I’d already thrown out most of the underwear.
-- I was more self-conscious than anticipated about my language limitations, which led to a lot of avoidance -- not anything I really wanted to do, like museums and the football match, but things I could have done, like eating out or going into shops. It was mostly to do with the look people got on hearing English out of my mouth. So either I need to learn more basic phrases or be more prepared for the look. (To be fair, in Rome I would say mi dispiace, sono American and they’d immediately be cool.)
-- My stash of granola/protein bars was clutch, and going to a grocery store for staples was also very helpful. Turns out wherever you go, even if they don’t have Diet Coke, they almost always have babybel cheese.
-- No day trips between cities. Going from London to Cambridge and back for the day was great; going from London to Amsterdam to Paris in a single day was not. If I’m going somewhere new and not going back somewhere familiar at end of day, I need to get there, sleep, have a full day there, and leave either that evening or the following morning at minimum.
-- Relatedly: I don’t have to do this thing anymore where I book early departures or late arrivals because they’re cheap and don’t use up my vacation time. They only make me anxious. From now on even if it ‘wastes’ a day, I only book travel that departs and arrives during daylight hours. It’s always fine, nothing bad happens, but the anxiety is Too Much.
-- The tablet and bluetooth keyboard in lieu of a laptop worked well. It wasn’t much lighter or more compact, but I was less worried about theft and because it charged via USB I didn’t have to wrangle an extra cord, I could just unplug my phone and plug the tablet in. That configuration also fit in my very small bag where a laptop wouldn’t, so I could carry it in my bag while in transit and not have to get my luggage out of the rack.
-- The Very Small Bag (a map case) worked fine but while I didn’t need a bigger one I could have used one with more pockets. I was always losing the exact thing I needed in the jumble at the bottom of the bag. I think for longer trips I prefer a small messenger bag that has both a reasonable main cargo compartment but also pockets for stuff like passport and spare battery.
Overall, a lot of the stuff I’d planned went off well, so at this point it’s less about logistics -- what to pack, how to pack it -- than it is about arranging things to lower anxiety and make transitions easier. That kind of thing sometimes you just need to experience in order to know how to handle it, so that’s fine. Next time I won’t be angry about Amsterdam when it’s not Amsterdam’s fault, or stuck waiting for a bus late at night at Rome Termini.
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Bestie I would love to know ALL about dad!Eddie because he plagues my every waking thought and a lot of my writing ideas
BESTIE thank you for indulging me in all of the Eddie shenanigans! Ok ok ok ok so! The basic, running scenario in my head is that:
Eddie and reader decide to have kids after one night where Eddie lets his breeding kink slip and he’s all into it, growling and snarling about how ‘he’s gonna breed you, gonna fill you all up with his cum’
And he absolutely doesn’t expect reader to follow along. He stops halfway through and he’s like, ‘wait, really? Is — is that something you’d want?’
Reader tells him that before Eddie, they’d never consider it before, but Eddie’s changed that. But not right now when they’re too young and barely making ends meet as reader’s been out of school for a year while Eddie is struggling to graduate. Maybe further along in their future, when they both have jobs and a place of their own.
Fast forward to that (we completely ignore Season 4 and live in bliss). They have their own place, that’s more like a compact box than an apartment, but it’s theirs. It’s home.
And then, it just happens. Takes them by surprise, and there’s a moment of anxiety because, while they’d already talked about it, they didn’t think it would arrive so soon. And they’re struggling, live in a literal egg, but you’re just so hopeful. Specially Eddie. He’s determined to work his ass off to give his partner and future child the best he can.
I haven’t daydreamed enough about what happens during the actual pregnancy, BUT:
Eddie and reader have a baby girl named Lucy.
After ‘Lucy In The Sky with Diamonds’ by The Beatles, which is one of Wayne’s favorite songs and one he’d often play for Eddie. Eddie always thought the song was super whimsical and he’d make up stories about this girl in the sky. And he’s excited and overcome with tenderness, that he can now put a face to the little girl of those fantasies. It’s his own daughter.
She has Eddie’s big bright, brown eyes, and he’s immediately smitten. He bursts out crying the moment she’s placed in her arms at the hospital, and sobbing even more when Wayne comes in moments later to meet his granddaughter.
Lucy is forever intrigued by Eddie’s endless curls, and nose, and dimples. She traces her little chubby fingers all over his tattoos. Eddie buys her a lot of coloring books and crayolas and markers but she always just wants to color her daddy’s tattoos.
Wayne becomes the most indulgent grandpa and he’s always eager to babysit.
Somewhere throughout, Eddie’s kinda feeling the burn out because he desperately wants to give reader and Lucy the best, but also doesn’t want Lucy to grow up in such a sheltered place as Hawkins. He works so damn much but he’s still stuck in Hawkins. That had never been in his plans.
In this au, I’m thinking he gets a big break as a studio musician during the evenings and when a gig comes up for him in a studio in Chicago. He was discovered by a producer after so, so many nights working hard with Corroded Coffin at The Hideout.
They move to Aurora, Illinois, to be close to the city so Eddie can drive when he has a studio session. But during the day he works in Aurora at the archives of a radio station before he eventually gets promoted to host.
(Aurora because of the movie Wayne’s World ahshdjdsksl and it cracks me up to imagine Eddie watching Wayne’s World in the nights while working at a studio. Hey, maybe he’s a guitarist for Cassandra. If you know this reference YOU KNOW, lmao)
After the family is all settled in Aurora, it totally happens by accident. Was not planned at all, specially because they’re still balancing out their expenses and getting used to their new habits.
But another baby comes, another girl. Angie this time! Angie because of The Rolling Stones song, but also the song ‘Angel’ by Aerosmith.
When Eddie gets sentimental, he sees his two girls as blessings during very important parts of his life.
Lucy arrived, as a motor to push him to better himself and get out of Hawkins, do something meaningful with his life. And Angie arrived sort of as a blessing for having done everything right, for not following the same path as his dad and for always keeping his promises of giving his family a worthy life.
Even for fictional me, three is too much, but if Eddie were to have a boy, he’d be named Georgie. (Idk why Georgie I don’t have a musical reference for that, it just sounds cute lol. Maybe he named it Georgie after reading Stephen King’s It? You know he so would.
But for now, in my au, there’s Lucy and Angie Munson ❤️
#eddie munson#eddie munson headcanons#eddie munson hcs#my aus#headcanons#eddie munson x reader#dad!eddie munson#dad!eddie#my oc: lucy munson#my oc: angie munson#but also Angie because of extremely self-indulgent reasons as that’s my middle name 👁️👁️
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From @sister-nyx 's, um, Phantom prompt list, I wrote Swiss holding Phantom during a nightmare. This almost turned into a proper fic had I let myself get fully carried away. Angst with fluff ensued!
Cw; Nightmares, panic attack.
Swiss was a heavy sleeper, him and everyone else around him knew that; once Swiss was asleep he was practically dead to the world. The only way they’ve successfully woken him up in the past was pushing him off of the couch. Otherwise, he sleeps through the entire night.
So waking up and cracking his eyes open to see the room dark, save for the light from the moon, it confused him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d woken up before the morning.
His confusion was quickly followed with alarm bells by the pungent and acidic smell of fear coursing through the room. He sat up in an instant, eyes wild and searching the dark. He sniffed at the air and it led him just to the side of him. He whined quietly and his heart sank.
He forgot for a moment that Phantom had slept over.
They were facing away from him with their blankets thrown off their body. They were squeezed into a fetal position that they always took, an old habit they kept from the Pit to minimize space while resting. Their joints were somehow more compact, muscles tight, tight enough that Swiss knew they’d hurt when they woke up. They were shaking, from the chill in the air or whatever was plaguing their mind, Swiss didn’t know. Their mouth was open to let out labored breaths, each one ending in a quiet whine.
Swiss had to wake them up, but he couldn’t figure out how to go about it. If he shook them awake, they would wake up thinking their dream became a reality. If he called out to them, same outcome.
Slowly, very slowly, he lowered himself back into the bed to be laying next to them and discarded his own blanket. He took measured movements and slowly moved one arm underneath their pillow. When they didn’t fuss over it, he moved his other arm to drape it over their waist. Not holding, just on top. He kept his distance and bared his neck to let his calming scent reach their nose. He began to purr, just a low rumble but enough to help ease them awake.
It took only a few minutes until that breathing picked up and their body tensed awake. They stayed in their position, likely still in a mindset of defense. Swiss wanted to pull them into his body and just hold them, let him know he was there, but he knew he had to wait. Their breathing eventually began to even out and soon he heard them.
“Swiss…” Phantom’s voice was small and they took in a shaky breath, “Swiss?”
“I’m here, bat.” He hummed.
They wiggled their body out of their position and were turned into his body in seconds, their face smashed into his neck and sucking in a deep and hearty breath. He let his purr grow in volume and finally got a proper hold on them; arms wrapped around their body and a leg in between theirs, securely twisting them together.
“Swiss,” They breathed out, their voice muffled. Their body began to shake again and their hands desperately clung to the back of his shirt, as if he were to disappear if they let go. He could feel the wetness on his skin where their face was.
“I’ve got you.” He whispered.
“Swiss-” they pushed their face further into his skin and let out a gut wrenching sob, high and quiet. Their blunt nails dug into his back and they tried their hardest to get even closer to him. “F-fuck, it- gods below- th-” they whined and fell back into a sob.
He shushed them quietly, his hands running up and down their back. “You don’t have to talk about it.”
So they didn’t. They let themselves cry while Swiss continued to whisper comforting words into their hair, their grasp on him not dying down. Even when their sobs stopped and they were left hiccuping and catching their breath, they never let go.
Phantom lifted their head out of his neck eventually and rested it on his chest. He looked down briefly and noticed how dark and cloudy their eyes were, as if their soul was sucked out of them. He wanted nothing more than to hold them tighter, if possible.
They let out a humorless laugh, “I can’t even remember what the dream was about.” Their voice shaky as they mumbled. “I just woke up and,” they shook their head, “and I dunno. I thought I was gonna die.”
Swiss nodded and let out a hum. “That used to happen to me all the time.”
He watched as their brows furrowed in confusion and they lifted their head to meet his eyes. “Really?”
Swiss smiled, “Yeah, we all go through it someway or another. Some of us still do.”
Phantom’s frown furthered and they laid their head back down. “I don’t want to do this forever.”
“It’ll get better, buggy.” Swiss promised with a kiss to their hair. “You can stay here for as long as you want. Mountain has herbs and shit to help deal with sleep. You’ve got support.”
They smiled and let out a quiet chuff. “Stay and hear you snore all night?”
Swiss clicked his tongue in feigned annoyance. “I don’t snore.”
They laugh, a little humor back into their small body. “I know, I was just teasing.”
Swiss laughed with them. He lifted an arm off them and blindly reached towards the nightstand. He grabbed his water bottle and lifted the straw up to offer it to them.
“You’re going to have a crazy migraine tomorrow if you don’t at least drink those tears back up.” He said as they begrudgingly gulped down the water.
They frowned up at him around the straw and took one last gulp before pushing the bottle away. “That’s gross.”
He laughed and put the water back before they fell into a comfortable silence, Swiss rubbing Phantom’s back as they did the same to him. Their movements began to slow eventually along with their breathing. When he glanced down he noticed those puffy eyes fought to stay open, likely scared to fall back.
“I’ve got you, Phantom.” Swiss whispered, sealing one last final promise into their head before they let their consciousness take them.
#god i do love swisstom#lou writes#the band ghost#nameless ghouls#phantom ghoul#swiss ghoul#swiss x phantom#swisstom
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Hi liv! I hope you have had a wonderful day! What is the most heartstoppingly romantic fic you’ve ever read? Like scream into your pillow blushing kicking your feet romantic? I am starting my first year as a teacher and desperately need ESCAPE 👹
Omg congrats anon! That sounds exciting but also very demanding, I bet you’ll need some escape soon 🥲 when it comes to romance my first pick will always be aideomai’s Far From the Tree but as I cannot control myself here’s a short rec list. This selection is quite personal as I’m not particularly romantic or into pure fluff, so keep in mind that our definitions of romance might differ. I hope you are able to get a well-deserved break with these, enjoy!
Blue Sky Is Living Here Today by ignatiustrout (G, 5k)
Draco's a father, Harry's in love with him, and it's really hard to take things slow.
An Emerald In The Sky by @corvuscrowned (M, 6.6k)
The hardest part about shagging an Unspeakable is that they’re not allowed to speak of anything. All Draco knows is that Harry works in Time. Harry works in Time, and while he’s out there in all of that time, it is as unforgiving to him as it is to anyone.
the keys to your kingdom by thistle_verse (E, 7.5k)
It was nothing so elegant as fucking, the first time they came together. It was teeth just a little too sharp— against a collarbone, on the right-side curve of a jaw, drawing blood from the plushest part of a bottom lip.
The Eighth Tale by lettered (E, 12k)
Draco Malfoy tries to fix the past, but instead mucks it up some more. For Harry, it all becomes quite clear. Cw: MCD
Take the Moon by @tackytigerfic (M, 15k)
Harry Potter has always wanted a family of his own, and when a deadly blood curse forces him into a marriage bond with his best friend Draco Malfoy, it looks like he might just have found one. It's just a shame they’d always planned to break up after a year…
Us, in Lieu by Tepre (E, 30k)
Teddy needs help and Harry needs funding. Draco sits in the other room and plays the piano.
The Compact by astolat (E, 64k)
Hermione frowned. “The real question is why the magic of Britain would be failing now, in fact.” “That is not the real question!” Ron said loudly; he’d woken up fully by now, and Harry had too; it was starting to sink in that they’d found the problem. “The real question is, how do we fix it?”
Little Deaths and How to Avoid Them (or Draco Malfoy's Guide to Stop Dying and Start Living Instead) by nerakrose and dustmouth (T, 96k)
Malfoy is way too interested in coroner reports for somebody who's definitely not looking for ways to die, Harry wants to be friends with him, and Ginny wants to break up with Harry.
Far From The Tree by aideomai (E, 112k)
The arrival of Harry Potter’s children—snapped back in time, the children themselves guessed, twenty or so years—was the most interesting thing to happen at Hogwarts for years.
A Sword Laid Aside by @korlaena (E, 128k)
When Draco’s cover is blown during a deep undercover operation and the Ministry is compromised, Ron takes Draco to the only safe place he can think of—Potter.
ART: so rest your weary heart with me by @bluebutter-art (M) - the most romantic artwork you’ll ever see, fight meeeee
After the war, Harry starts to use sensory deprivation tanks to induce psychosis-like hallucinations, eager to see those who he has lost one more time.
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Of course, now I can’t stop thinking about where the remains of our Greek class would be today.
The trouble with this exercise is that we’re not sure how old they’d be, because we don’t really know when the events of The Secret History take place. Donna Tartt does a good job of giving us almost no chronological milestones to ground the book in a particular year. Richard is narrating from nine years after Bunny’s death: since TSH was published in 1992, that would put the story’s setting in 1983. But references to certain things in the book would suggest a later time. Richard goes to see a Vietnam War movie starring Charlie Sheen with the fictitious name of Fields of Shame: its real-life counterpart, Platoon, was released in December 1986. Later in the novel, we find mentions of compact discs and laptop computers, which would place the story in the late 1980s or even the early 1990s (part of me thinks that these were editor’s suggestions to make the book feel more up-to-date).
Since Donna Tartt attended Bennington from 1982 to 1986, she would have started her junior year in 1984. Richard transfers to Hampden at the start of his junior year, so I’m going to use that as my benchmark and say that the action of TSH takes place between the fall of 1984 and the spring of 1985. Francis is 21, so he would now be 58. Richard and the Macaulays would be 57.
Francis is the easy one, because Donna Tartt herself told us what became of him. In The Goldfinch, he makes a brief appearance as one of Hobie’s wealthy New York friends/clients. There’s no mention of “Mr. Abernathy” having a wife or children, so we can assume that Priscilla has been out of the picture for quite some time. Francis appears to have a reasonably good life, even if, as Theo Decker says, he seems to have “some ill-articulated scandal or disgrace in his past.” (Such a tease, that Donna Tartt!) This is what Francis was up to in 2013, at least---unless he got very sick or started a relationship with someone, there isn’t any reason to believe that he’d be doing anything different by now.
Richard, I think, predicted his own future when he was speculating about Henry’s: “I had always pictured Henry teaching Greek, in some forlorn but excellent college out in the Midwest.”
(I’ll briefly pause so we can all recover from the terrifying prospect of having Henry Winter as a college professor.)
Whew, okay. Moving on...
I can’t imagine that Richard would have stayed in California, not when he hated it so much. And yet, I can’t see him returning to New England, or anywhere in the Northeast: too many memories. The Midwest would be a perfect place for Richard to have landed...and for some inexplicable reason, I’m specifically thinking Wisconsin. Of course he’s a professor: his education hasn’t really trained him for anything except academia. But not Greek---English literature. He’s rumpled and tweedy and still rather boyishly good-looking. At least a quarter of his class has a crush on him. He may have been married at some point, but no longer. He doesn’t have any children.
I’m probably getting too Sebastian Flyte-ish with Charles, but I’m sorry to say that I think he’d be dead by now. I think he may have committed suicide, or just let himself decline so far into alcoholism and eventual drug addiction that it was basically a slow suicide. Or it may have been the sort of accident that plagues troubled people: a car wreck, a house fire, a bad fall down the stairs. But then again, you never know. If Charles somehow managed to pull himself back from the brink, I think he’d only have been able to do it with the help of some kind of religion---not because of his substance abuse issues, but because of his guilty conscience. I don’t see him getting deep into Christianity, though, maybe something like Buddhism. Perhaps he’s up in the Himalayas, with a shaved head and orange robes. And there we’ll leave him.
Camilla is a novelist. She would have needed to make money somehow, but I don’t see her doing blue-collar work or embarking on a corporate career (for which she would have had to go back to school, anyway). When we last saw her in TSH, she seemed to have committed herself to taking care of her grandmother and eking out a living on whatever was left of the family money (so Southern Gothic!). That would have given her ample time to write.
Funny thing is, I see her being financially successful but not the sort of writer who’s a darling of the critics or a household name (she doesn’t write under her own name at all). Maybe she’s had a career like Andrew Neiderman, who’s been writing as “V.C. Andrews” since the real Andrews died more than 30 years ago. Or maybe she reliably churns out cozy mysteries and romances, the kind that you buy at the drugstore, read at the beach, and then leave for someone else at the laundromat. This is by choice: Camilla doesn’t want to be famous. She wants to be comfortable, and left alone. She still owns the family home in Virginia, which she’s beautifully restored, although she doesn’t spend much time there. Mostly, she lives at the beach, where her well-appointed bungalow is peak Coastal Grandmother aesthetic.
She’s not a grandmother, though, or a mother, and has never been anyone’s wife. She is as solitary in her habits as she ever was...no, more so. She takes long walks on the beach, alone. She goes to mass every Sunday and holy day, but never receives Communion. She reads Greek in the evenings, listening to the waves roll in.
She has never stopped loving Henry.
#the secret history#donna tartt#dark academia#francis abernathy#richard papen#charles macaulay#camilla macaulay#henry winter
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Breakfast - Tom kazansky x Fem!reader (who is Nick Bradshaw’s sister)
A breakfast date with The "Iceman" <3
a/n: This is a part two to this fic but i don't think it is completely necessary to have read part one.
Warnings: swearing (let me know if there’s any others)
Paulette’s Diner was a small place on the beach front, it was filled with pink booth seats and waiters on roller skates. The whole room was filled with the music coming from the jukebox as well as laughter coming from the three different couples who were scattered around the place.
In the back corner, far enough away from everyone and the jukebox that you could talk without too much interruption, sat You and Tommy.
You wore a cute romper, and he sported a casual t-shirt and a pair of jeans.
As you waited for someone to take your orders, you chatted quietly about your lives at school.
“You know, I was quite the lanky nerd type at school,” Tom shocked you with this information, it was something nobody would expect from him.
“No way! Really?” You received a slightly shy nod so you stumbled to reassure him, “nothings wrong with that! I was a nerd too- I still am really- but I just never expected that from The ‘Iceman’”
He started to chuckle about this, and you went on to discuss teachers, bullies and your favourite subjects (his being English and Science)
10 minutes after you had sat down, a blonde girl (who could be no older than 16, you thought) skated up to you, notepad in hand and asked for your orders.
Tom ordered a fry up, and you a stack of pancakes with maple syrup and bacon. As well as this, you both asked for a large strawberry milkshake to share.
Whilst waiting for the order, Tom decided to discuss the topic of your brother, Nick Bradshaw and his best friend Pete.
“What do you plan on doing if they found out about this?” He asked you. You knew this question was coming, so you had rehearsed your answer.
“When he first joined the Navy, Nick made me swear that I would never date a pilot. Pete made me make the same promise to him too. So, naturally they’d feel betrayed but also they know they hold no real authority over me and my dating life,” this explanation made Tom giggle slightly the protective nature of your brother and his best friend was hilariously strong.
“However, they would NOT be happy that the particular pilot I chose was Iceman,” this information didn’t really surprise him, you had expected this, “Don’t get me wrong! They both think your an amazing pilot and a pretty cool guy but simultaneously they believe your a well… a ya know-“
“Manwhore?” Tom interjected bluntly, clearly very conscious of the opinions of his peers.
Your body heat collected within your cheeks all of a sudden “I was gonna put it nicer than that”
“It’s ok. So if I some how managed to prove to Mav and Goose that I’m not in fact a massive slag but actually a decent human being they’d accept our relationship?”
your relationship.
“Yeah, I really think they would,” you smiled brightly at him, but under the table you picked at your nails, concerned about the possibility of offending him.
Luckily, before you could get too in your head, your breakfast and milkshake was placed in front of you on the metal table (which was great, as you had grown extremely worried that your stomach would commence growling in anger at the lack of food).
The very first bite into your pancakes caused you to groan -quite loudly- in satisfaction.
“I agree,” Tom grinned, still chewing on a small piece of his bacon.
After that moment, your mind had been so absorbed into the tantalising flavours of maple syrup on bacon that you were paying no attention to the actions of a certain Lieutenant.
You were drawn out of your flavour admiration as you felt a strange sensation occur on your nose.
You gave Tom a suspicious look, before quickly pulling out the compact mirror you kept in your handbag at all times.
The mirror revealed that a small dollop of whipped cream -taken from your milkshake- sat atop your nose.
“Thomas Kazansky you little shit!” Feigning anger, you attempted your best stern glare. This was not successful, as it resulted in Thomas alerting the entire diner with his uproar of laughter, before leaning over the table and quickly swiping off the cream with his tongue.
Will this man please refrain from making me blush like a schoolgirl?
It took about fifteen minutes for you to finish your meal, and you finally gave your full attention to the milkshake.
However, this didn’t go so well when both of you leaned in to grab the straws with your mouths and ended up head-butting one another. This stupid action caused yet another uproar of laughter, much to the disapproval of the now full diner.
Huh. When had those people shown up?
Now being extra careful, the two of you managed to finish the drink with no further accidents and you went up to pay and then leave.
Once again, Tom refused to allow you to pay for the meal despite your best efforts, so you settled on giving a twenty percent tip instead.
You climbed into the passenger seat of Ice’s black corvette and spectated as he put on his music. Delight and shock filled you as the familiar sound of ‘Head over Heels’ by Tears for fears trickled into your ears.
You were even more shocked when you heard Tom singing along in a beautiful voice, and obviously you decided to join in.
“You're just, just, just wasting time” you sang to him
And together you yelled at the top of your voices, not caring about who may hear
“Something happens and I'm head over heels
I never find out till I'm head over heels
Something happens and I'm head over heels
Ah, don't take my heart, don't break my heart
Don't, don't, don't throw it away”
A/n: im sorry if this isn’t as good as the last one was, it kept messing up so it made me really frustrated. I hope it hasn’t affected the quality.
If you enjoyed this- feel free to check out my masterlist or give my blog a follow <3
#Spotify#tom kazansky x reader#tom kazansky#top gun maverick#top gun x reader#top gun#iceman x reader#nick bradshaw#iceman#val kilmer
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Wrong On The Money (49)
part 49 of ?? | 691 words | Teen+
Blackmail fic on Ao3 | on tumblr
Summary:
“So let me get this straight,” Steve is saying, and Eddie snorts at the phrasing.
You know, before he can remember that he’s supposed to be in the doghouse. And that he isn’t a fucking twelve year old.
There's an image in this one.
49.
It’s not fair. It’s confusing. Eddie is supposed to be in trouble here. Steve had paid him (in theory, at least) not to talk about his sexuality, and Eddie has just admitted to telling two whole people anyway.
But Steve’s conversation with Wayne has hit him square in the chest. He has butterflies in his stomach for fucks sake, because he’s never had a lot of family, never had a lot of permanency—and this feels like it could be both.
“So let me get this straight,” Steve is saying, and Eddie snorts at the phrasing.
You know, before he can remember that he’s supposed to be in the doghouse. And that he isn’t a fucking twelve year old.
It takes a second, but then Steve smirks. Eddie wants to kiss him on his handsome, mole-speckled face. “Okay, smartass, let me see if I’ve got this right. You’ve told two people, and I’ve told none.”
Here it comes. Sobering, Eddie nods and mentally braces himself. He’d talked to Jeff and Wayne because he’d needed help, needed a sounding board in order to process the mess he’d gotten himself into. . . . There had been reasons, he hadn’t done it frivolously or to anyone that would spread it around. Does that matter, though? He’d still done it. At the very least, he should have admitted that to Steve before now, once they’d called a truce. Now those two times feel a lot more like breaking Steve’s confidence than anything else, and that shit breaks people up all the time.
They’ve only been boyfriends for a goddamn day—kinda lame that that’s a personal record for him, at twenty, but all highs have to end sometime.
Suddenly Steve’s arm is around his shoulders, trying to tuck some of the hair back from his face. “So . . . it sounds like I could really use your expertise, man. Can you help me figure out how to tell Robin?”
Oh. Oh.
Eddie is so gone for this guy and this one-problem-at-a-time way he thinks. The fact that this is somehow Steve’s main takeaway kind of makes him want to cry, because what did he do to deserve this?
The answer, really, is nothing, because he doesn’t—but maybe he can. What Steve seems to want in a partnership is to be steadfastly, relentlessly there for each other. Eddie can do that. He wants to do that.
“Yeah,” Eddie says, blinking hard against another explosion of his inner butterfly population. “Of course I’ll help, Stevie. What do you need?”
-
Ten minutes later, after sending Steve to go grab the new dice from his room, Eddie taps the last item on the list with his pen and turns to him on the couch. “Okay, so these are our options. And here—” he holds up Steve’s D20, a bright sunny yellow in the center of his palm “—is our very own and far more compact Magic 8 Ball. Very useful for making difficult decisions. You pick which choice is evens and which is odds, and then you roll. Simple as that.”
Steve takes the die from his hand. “And this one’s got more sides, so that’s good, right? Better chances for picking the best one.”
Eddie’s face scrunches as he thinks that over. “I’m not sure that’s right. . . .”
“Sure it is,” Steve replies confidently. “It makes total sense.” Which, okay, Eddie is pretty sure he’s talking out his ass. But he watches Steve’s profile, noting the way he’s biting the inside of his cheek even though he sounds relaxed and smooth.
Robin loves Steve. The fact that it’s one hundred percent platonic is irrelevant; she won’t hate him for keeping this from her. Pissed off is far more likely, but it won’t last. It’ll be rooted in concern for Steve’s well-being.
What’s of more concern is how she’ll react to Eddie’s poor life choices. If she doesn’t want anything to do with him once she knows, where does that leave them? Steve keeps insisting it will all be fine, but Eddie gets the feeling that he’s trying not to think about it too hard.
The D20 drops towards the coffee table for the first roll.
-
[ID: A notebook page with two headers at the top, "Evens" and "Odds," both underlined multiple times. The next line reads "Before Dustin" (circled) and "After Dustin," with a note in parentheses below noting "(has to happen sometime or he'll have a TONE)". The next line reads "Together," "Just Steve" (circled), and a write-in for a non-existent third column that reads "Just Eddie." This third option is crossed out in a different color pen with "NO. :(" scribbled beneath it. The next line reads "At Family Video" and "Off the clock" (circled), with two bullet points beneath the former that read "Pros: has to keep it professional" and "Cons: ammo from candy display and Returns." The notebook is on a wooden surface, one end of a purple BIC lighter to the left and a bit of crumpled foil wrapper to the right. End ID]
#steddie blackmail fic#steddie#steddie fic#steve harrington#eddie munson#please enjoy my messy handwriting pretending to be eddie's#my fanfic
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