đđđ¨đŽđ; youâre a generalâs pants-wearing daughter: a skilled fighter, headstrong, and teased by others for not being feminine. during a sparring session with your friend, aemond, you two make a bet: if you win, he has to show you his eye. if he wins, you have to wear a dress â and kiss him.
đ˘đ§đđĽđŽđđđŹ; aemond being aemond, confessions, just some good old sweetness â¨
đ§đ¨đđ; thank you so much to the amazing person who asked for this :â) i hope i could do it justice! to be as inclusive as possible, i do not mention the readerâs fatherâs descent. i also do not specify her skin tone, body type, eye/hair color, or hair texture âĄÂ
Summery: Marko takes you on a date to the cave to meet his pigeon friends.
A/n: I tried my best to describe the cave, but we all know what it looks like, so whatever. This might be slightly OOC, and there is really bad writing, so I'm sorry if it's just bad.
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Wheels skid to a stop close to the steep drop-off of the cliff. A couple of rocks fall down into the abyss, crashing into the ocean waves below.
"Holy shit, you drive like a bat out of hell" you say into Marko's shoulder as you tighten your grip around him and hide your face in his shoulder.
"Come on, you had fun." He laughs at your reaction.
"I genuinely thought I was going to die" He rolled a bit away from the edge so you could safely get off.
"That's how you know you're having fun" He kicked the stand for the bike so you can both get off. You were sure you were smiling like an idiot due to still being high on the adrenaline. He leads you to a side of the cliff that has worn down stairs.
You start to make your way down the stairs, hearing creaking as you walk. "How many times are you going to try and kill me in one night"
"It's held strong for years, you'll be fine"He jumps a couple of times, making the building shake.
"Marko!" You grip onto the railing since your life did kind of depend on it. He tries to hold his laugh in before he snorts and bursts into laughter.
"It's not funny. Keep moving." You swat at him with your hand to make him keep walking.
The stairs ended at a rocky beach. at the entrance of a cave. Scraps and trash were washed up in the rocks. A torn up wire fence stood in front of the entrance of the cave. Marko walks ahead of you, telling you to watch your step. Some blood residue was left on the rocks, which is to be expected.
You made your way through the entrance, walking to the already lit space inside. Marko jumped down, skipping the rocky steps entirely. While holding onto some vines, you carefully make your way down.
The cave was amazing, like their very own wonderland. Old decor hung from debris and rock. A broken chandelier lay in the center of an old fountain. You walked around looking at the cluttered decor.
"How did you guys get all this?" You turn back, finding him walking around the broken chandelier.
"Back in '03 a big earthquake hit this hotel. The ground opened up, sending it right down into our hands" He hops down from the spot, landing in front of you. He raps his arms around your waist, and your arms move to his neck. You pull him close to make contact with his lips.
"Isn't everybody else coming here?" You try to reason in between kisses. Marko had a habit of taking things far too quickly, which you didn't mind often.
"They're out feeding. It will be a while till they're back." You break away from him at his statement.
"Don't you also need to feed?"
"I can control myself"
He states before he starts to kiss up your neck. You lean your head to the side, allowing him easier access. You were so wrapped up in the moment to fully register the wing flapping sound coming from a little deeper in the cave. But Marko had heard it.
He pulls away quickly without much warning. Walking deeper into the dark cave toward the noise. It hurt a little that he was so quick to abandon the moment. He came back with a paper bag, and he handed it to you. Before you could ask for an explanation, 4 pigeons flew up. Landing on his arms, which he stretched out to the side for them to land. They all land in a row.
"This is Daniel, Dawn, Paula, and Margo." He points to each one down the line. They pay little attention to you besides a couple of coos in your direction.
"Are they all girls?"
"What can I say? Babes love me"The one on his sholder coos and snuggles into his chin.
There was something so endearing about seeing Marko care for these pigeons, but not just care, but befriend them. Marko was a vampire; he was meant to be a perfect predator, but yet he seemed to care so deeply. Even if he didn't show remorse while feeding, he kept showing you how he was still human in some ways.
You look in the bag to find birdseed and a few pieces of bread. Grabbing some of the seeds, you place the bag down. A pigeon, seeing the food in your hand, abandons Marko for you.
"That's Margo." Margo stood on your wrist and ate the seeds from your palm.
"Hi, Margo." You reach out with your other hand to scratch under her chin. Happy coos come from her catching the attention of the other tree, who also abandons Marko for attention and food.
All four were a handful, all wanted attention and food. You've never met birds as clingy as they were, although it was cute. You assumed Marko made them like that by spoiling them rotten.
One of them lost interest in fighting for attention. So she moved from your arm to Marko's, snuggling in between his neck and the collar of his jacket. You assumed it was comfortable for them due to how insulating it was.
"Marko, why pigeons?"
"They're one of the few animals that don't lose their shit at the scent of vampires" You hum in response.
"And they're very friendly and very adorable. That's how I knew they'd like you."
"What?"
They're adorable, and they like adorable things. And you fit the bill" Margo, who took a liking to you more than the rest, cooed in argument.
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Did anybody notice how I just named the pigeons the fem versions of the Lost Boys names ;3
description: you know those men that say "i don't want kids?" yeah, this isn't one of them. this is about eddie munson willingly attending tea parties in a feather boa and considering it the highest honor of his life.
pairing: stepdad!eddie x singlemom!reader
tags: stepdad!eddie, no y/n, girldad!eddie, so much fluff your eyes will water and your teeth will fall out, domestic fluff, zero plot all vibes, he is in fact the father that stepped up, rosie is his everything, she calls him dad, baby dad ain't shit, yes he lets her paint her nails and do his hair, oh my god this is the cutest shit ever, eddie is so girl-dad coded
TW: slight angst, tooth rotting fluff
WC: 7.5k
A/N: requested by my dearest @bitterestwillow hope you enjoy queen <33
(soft girl-dad eddie is my apology after "I Told You Things"). this shit made my eyes water and my feet kick the entire time while writing. i know having a kid isn't everyones ff cup of tea but i promise, it's worth it. let me know what you guys think :)
reblogs are always appreciated, friends <33
âExcuse me, sweetheart,â a voice from behind stops you mid-step.Â
You look up from the sea of plumbing fixtures with a sigh already halfway out of your chest, one hand gripping the shopping cart while the other clutches a list that might as well have been written in another language. PVC elbows. Pipe thread tape. Half-inch coupler.Â
Somewhere between watching a three-year-old full-time and trying to keep a roof over both your heads, you'd apparently become the designated handyman too.
You turn to find a man with long curls spilling over a faded Metallica shirt and a worn flannel rolled up to his elbows, exposing an array of tattoos.
He points toward the floor, "I think these are yours."
Your eyes immediately drop to the little cardboard box of screws that had apparently slipped from your arm, scattering across the concrete. Before you can bend down, he's already crouched, gathering them one by one.
"Oh my God, thank you," you mutter, already embarrassed. "Today's just... one of those days."
He stands, holding the box out to you. "Trust me, I have a lot of those."
Before you can answer, the tiny voice from your shopping cart pipes up.
"Mama forgot apples."
You look over at your daughter, whose legs are happily swinging from the front of the cart as if the world isn't actively trying to kick your ass.
"We're not at the grocery store, bug."
"I know."
"So..."
"I still wanted apples."
The man snorts, trying to hide it behind his hand, and you can't help smiling despite yourself. He glances at the collection of fittings in your cart before looking back at you.
"So... you remodeling your house or planning on flooding it?"
You hold up the wrinkled list. "My kitchen sink won't stop leaking."
He nods once. "And you got sent here with that list?"
"My landlord told me it'd be an 'easy fix.'"
His face immediately says everything. "Oh..."
"What?"
He scratches the back of his neck. "I mean... no offense to your landlord, but he's either lazy or doesn't know what he's talking about."
You laugh, genuinely this time. "Could be both."
"Probably both."
He steps beside your cart and gently picks up one of the connectors you'd grabbed. "You don't actually need this one."
"No?"
"Nope."
He swaps it for another. "And this thread tape is garbage."
"It is?"
"It's the cheapest stuff they make."
"I picked it because it was the cheapest stuff they make."
He smiles. "Fair enough."
For the next ten minutes, he walks beside you through the aisle, explaining everything in terms that actually make sense instead of sounding like a repair manual. He never talks down to you, never makes you feel stupid, just casually points things out with an easy patience that surprises you.
Your daughter has apparently decided he's the most fascinating person she's ever seen.
She leans over the cart. "Mister."
He looks over. "Yeah?"
"I like your hair."
He instinctively reaches up to touch it. "Thanks."
"You look like a lion."
You slap a hand over your mouth to keep from laughing.
He pauses for a second before grinning. "I've been called worse."
She nods thoughtfully. "I have a unicorn."
"That's awesome."
"It's pink."
"My favorite color."
Her eyes widen. "No way."
"Way."
She gasps dramatically and immediately begins digging through the pile of toys she'd somehow accumulated in the shopping cart.
You rub your forehead. "I'm so sorry."
"For what?"
"She adopts people."
He glances down at the little girl now proudly presenting him with a stuffed dinosaur that has clearly seen better days. "I'm being recruited?"
"I'm afraid so."
He accepts the dinosaur with complete seriousness. "An honor."
Your daughter beams. Mission accomplished.
After another few minutes, he places the final item into your cart. "There."
You stare at the contents. "So... this should actually fix it?"
"Should."
You hesitate, then smile sheepishly. "You don't happen to know how to install it too, right?"
The words leave your mouth before you can stop them, and you immediately regret them.
"Oh my God, forget I said that."
He laughs. "No, actually..." He rubs the back of his neck. "I do."
"You do?"
"Spent enough years fixing my uncle's trailer. Not licensed or anything, but I know what I'm doing."
You study him for another second. "And what's the catch?"
"The catch?"
"Nobody just offers to fix a complete stranger's sink."
His eyebrows lift. "I wasn't exactly offering."
"No?"
"I was kind of waiting to see if you'd ask."
You laugh. "So now that I have?"
He pretends to think. "Hmm..."
Your daughter kicks her feet again. "Mama makes yummy grilled cheese."
He looks at her. "She does?"
She nods emphatically. "And tomato soup."
You cover your face. "Honey..."
She points at him. "He can come over."
He immediately raises both hands. "For the record, I support stranger danger."
"He doesn't look dangerous."
"I appreciate that very much."
She studies him another second. "You got nice eyes."
His ears actually turn pink. "Thank you."
Then she sticks out one tiny hand. "I'm Rosie."
He shakes it with complete sincerity. "I'm Eddie."
She smiles like she's known him forever.
You don't know what possesses you to trust him. Maybe it's the way he talks to your daughter like she's a real person instead of a nuisance. Maybe it's because he's spent the last fifteen minutes helping you without expecting anything in return.
Or maybe it's because, for the first time in what feels like years, someone looked at you and didn't see a burden. He just saw you.Â
"So..." you say carefully. "If you're sure..."
He shrugs. "I'll fix your sink."
"And if it turns out to be a bigger problem?"
"Then I'll tell you honestly."
"And if you can't fix it?"
"We'll order pizza and pretend we never touched it."
A laugh slips out before you can stop it. "That's a terrible plan."
"It's worked for me before."
Rosie is already nodding enthusiastically. "I like pizza."
He leans closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "I think she's on my side."
You smile. "I think sheâs usually on the opposite of mine."
Neither of you could've known then that the sink would be fixed in under twenty minutes. Or that he'd stay another three hours because Rosie insisted on showing him every stuffed animal she owned.
Or that he'd come back the next weekend because she'd proudly announced she wanted to show him her coloring book.
Or that months later she'd accidentally call him "Dad," clap both hands over her mouth in horror, and burst into tears because she thought she'd hurt his feelings.
And years after that, if anyone ever asked Eddie Munson when he met the love of his life, he'd grin and tell them it happened in the plumbing aisle because a stubborn little girl needed apples and her exhausted mother didn't know the difference between a pipe coupling and a garden hose.
2 years laterâŚ
By the time you pull into the driveway, your shoulders are aching from wrestling grocery bags in and out of the trunk, and your patience has been thoroughly tested by the woman in front of you at the checkout who insisted on writing a check in the year 1998.
You manage to hook three bags over one arm, another two over the other, and nudge the front door closed behind you with your hip.
The house is quiet for approximately three seconds, then you hear it: a tiny burst of giggling. Then another. Then Eddie's voice, dramatically lowered into what can only be described as a very serious royal accent.
"I'm terribly sorry, Your Majesty, but Sir Teddy Bear has informed me that the strawberry scones have been stolen by dragons."
Rosie's gasp is so loud you hear it from the foyer. "No!"
"I'm afraid so."
"The pink dragons or the green ones?"
"The pink ones."
She sighs dramatically. "They're always doing that."
You quietly set the grocery bags on the kitchen counter before peeking around the corner into the living room, and your heart almost physically stops.
The coffee table has been pushed against the wall, a floral blanket spread neatly across the rug with every stuffed animal Rosie owns arranged in a perfect little circle. Tiny plastic teacups are balanced precariously in front of each guest, alongside mismatched toy plates covered in invisible desserts.
And sitting right in the middle of it all...is Eddie.Â
He's cross-legged on the floor, his long curls pulled into two horribly uneven pigtails secured with glittery pink scrunchies. Rosie has somehow convinced him to wear a feather boa, an oversized plastic pearl necklace, and a paper crown that's hanging halfway off his head.
He still has a black band tee and jeans on, of course. The tiara somehow makes it look even cooler.
Rosie notices you first. "Mama!"
She jumps up and nearly spills an imaginary cup of tea all over herself before sprinting toward you, wrapping herself around your legs.
"Eddie's having tea with us."
"I can see that."
She beams proudly. "He knows all the rules."
You glance over at him as he lifts the tiny plastic teacup with absolute dignity. "I've been informed that my pinky needs to stay out."
Rosie immediately corrects him. "It stays up."
"My apologies."
He raises it another inch. "Better?"
She nods approvingly. "Much."
You can't stop smiling. "What exactly am I looking at here?"
Rosie grabs your hand and starts dragging you toward the blanket. "We're princesses."
Eddie quietly adds, "I'm Princess Sparkles."
You bite your lip so hard it almost hurts. "Princess Sparkles?"
He nods solemnly. "I wasn't given a choice."
Rosie immediately spins around. "You picked that one."
He freezes. "...I was given a choice."
She points a tiny accusing finger at him. "You said it was the coolest one."
"It was."
"You said sparkles make everything better."
"They do."
"So you wanted it."
He looks over at you with complete resignation. "I have no defense."
Rosie climbs right back onto the blanket before patting the empty spot beside her. "Mama, sit."
You carefully lower yourself onto the floor, smoothing your jeans beneath you. Immediately, Rosie starts pouring from an empty plastic teapot into your equally empty cup.
"This one's raspberry."
You take a sip with complete seriousness. "Oh my goodness."
She smiles. "It's yummy."
"It's delicious."
Eddie clears his throat. "If I may..."
Rosie nods graciously. "You may."
He lifts his cup. "I detect notes of raspberry with... perhaps a hint of gasoline."
Rosie frowns. "No."
"No?"
"No gasoline."
"My mistake."
She leans over and whispers loudly enough for everyone to hear. "It's strawberries."
He nods in understanding. "Ah. An excellent vintage."
She looks unbelievably proud of herself.
The tea party continues for another twenty minutes, complete with imaginary cookies, a lengthy debate between Bunny and Mr. Dinosaur over proper table manners, and Rosie insisting everyone sing happy birthday to a stuffed giraffe whose birthday appears to have been invented on the spot.
Eventually, she crawls into Eddie's lap without thinking, settling there like it's the most natural place in the world. He absentmindedly smooths a hand over her hair while continuing an entirely serious conversation with the stuffed giraffe.
"And how old are you turning today?"
Rosie answers for it. "Six."
"Oh wow."
"But not really."
"Oh."
"It's pretend."
"Right."
"You're bad at pretending."
"I'm learning."
She reaches up and gently fixes one of his crooked pigtails. "There."
He smiles. "Thanks, sweetheart."
Your chest aches. Not because of anything dramatic. Not because of all the nights you sat awake wondering if Rosie would grow up wondering why she wasn't enough for someone to stay. It aches because she no longer wonders.
She has Eddie. The man currently accepting fake tea from a five-year-old with the same reverence most people reserve for expensive wine. The man wearing a plastic tiara without a single complaint. The man who never once made her feel like she wasn't his.
He catches your eye from across the blanket, so you smile at him softly. He smiles back.
Then Rosie reaches up and shoves another glittery necklace over his curls. "There."
He looks down. "What does this one make me?"
She grins so wide her cheeks puff out. "My daddy."
Silence settles over the room for just a heartbeat. Eddie doesn't hesitate; he just looks up at her with the gentlest expression you've ever seen and presses a kiss against the top of her head.
"My favorite title I've ever had."
Rosie simply nods like that was the obvious answer all along before returning to her tea.
By the time Rosie is tucked into bed, complete with three stuffed animals, one bedtime story, a glass of water she absolutely won't drink, and a solemn promise that you'll check for monsters under the bed even though she's well aware monsters don't exist, the house has settled into that quiet only late evenings seem capable of producing.
The dishwasher hums softly in the kitchen. The television is on low volume, neither of you really paying attention to whatever old movie is playing.
You've long since changed into one of Eddie's old shirts, sleeves swallowing your hands, and he's stretched out on the couch with his legs kicked over the coffee table, one arm lazily draped around your shoulders while the other balances a bottle of beer against his knee.
You're tucked comfortably against his side, your own beer untouched for the last fifteen minutes because somehow you've become completely distracted tracing absentminded circles against his forearm.
Neither of you says much; you never really have to. Comfortable silence had become one of your favorite languages together. After almost two years, it isn't awkward anymore; it's simply home.
Eddie presses a kiss against your temple before taking another sip of his beer. "Can I ask you something?"
You tilt your head up. "When have you ever waited for permission?"
He grins. "Fair."
He looks back toward the television for another moment before his expression softens. "You don't have to answer."
Your fingers stop moving.
"But..." He shrugs. "I realized the other day I don't actually know what happened."
You don't have to ask; you know exactly what he means.
He keeps his voice careful. "Rosie's dad."
For a second, all you do is stare at the condensation rolling down your bottle. It's funny. People assume single mothers talk about it all the time. In reality...you spend most of your life trying not to.
After a quiet moment, you let out a slow breath. "I was married."
You feel Eddie's arm tighten ever so slightly around your shoulders, but he doesn't interrupt.
"We got married young."
You smile faintly, though there's no humor in it. "I thought that was what you were supposed to do."
He stays quiet.
"So we got married, got an apartment together, talked about vacations we'd never actually take because money was always tight."
You laugh softly. "We used to argue over whose turn it was to buy toilet paper."
Eddie smiles. "The truly romantic stuff."
"The glamorous side of marriage."
Your smile fades. "When I found out I was pregnant... I was terrified."
You look down at your hands. "I remember sitting in the bathroom, staring at the test, thinking there had to be a mistake."
"And then?"
"And then I got excited."
Your voice comes out almost embarrassingly quiet. "I started making lists. I looked at baby names. I started clipping little nursery ideas out of magazines. I remember standing in the grocery store crying because I walked past baby socks."
A tiny laugh escapes you. "They were so little."
Eddie reaches over and quietly intertwines his fingers with yours, and you squeeze them.
"I couldn't wait to tell him."
You stare at the floor.
"He didn't cry. He didn't smile. He just looked at me."
The silence stretches.
"I remember asking him if he was okay. He just stood and told me he'd be back later."
You swallow. "He wasn't."
You blink a couple times before continuing. "He started coming home less. He worked late. He stopped touching me. Hell, he stopped looking at me."
Your voice remains remarkably calm. "I found lipstick on one of his shirts."
Eddie's jaw clenches.
"I asked him about it." You laugh quietly. "He told me I was hormonal."
"A month later, he asked for a divorce."
Eddie finally looks down at you. You don't look angry anymore; you just look tired.
"He actually used the words..." You smile bitterly. "'I think we've grown into different people.'"
He says nothing.
"So I signed." Your thumb rubs absentmindedly over the bottle label. "A week later he moved in with someone else."
"A girl barely old enough to drink." You let out another humorless little laugh. "My mother called it trading in for a younger model."
You look toward the ceiling. "I think she was trying to make me laugh."
"Did it?"
"A little."
Your eyes drift toward the hallway leading to Rosie's room.
"He never came to appointments. He wasn't there when she was born. He didn't call. He didn't write. He never met her."
Eddie's entire face has gone still. "He knows about her?"
You nod once. "He just... didn't want her."
The words hang in the room. Simple, matter-of-fact. Far crueler because of it.
You shrug one shoulder. "It took me a long time not to think there was something wrong with me."
Your voice cracks for the first time. "Then I worried there was something wrong with her."
Eddie turns immediately. "There isn't."
"I know that now."
"But at three in the morning with a newborn who won't stop crying and bills stacked on the counter..."
You smile through watery eyes. "You start asking yourself questions you know aren't true."
Without saying a word, Eddie reaches over and gently takes your beer from your hand before setting both bottles on the coffee table. Then he wraps both arms around you, like he's trying to hold every broken piece anyone else ever left behind.
You bury your face into his shirt, and he presses his cheek against your hair. After a minute, he quietly says, "Can I tell you something?"
You nod.
"The first day I met Rosie..."
You smile despite yourself. "The hardware store?"
"The hardware store."
He chuckles softly. "When she held out that stuffed dinosaur and told me his name was Mr. Pickles..."
You laugh through your sniffle. "It was Mr. Sprinkles."
"Oh." He grins. "See? I wasn't listening."
"You absolutely were."
"I wasn't."
"You were."
"I was busy because this tiny little person had just informed me that dinosaurs eat grilled cheese."
"They do."
"They absolutely do." He kisses your forehead. "I remember thinking..."
"...that if I ever got lucky enough to have a kid someday..." His voice lowers. "I hoped they'd look at me the way she did."
You close your eyes.
"And then I kept coming over." Another kiss against your temple. "And somewhere along the way..."
He shrugs against you. "...I stopped imagining some hypothetical kid."
"It was just Rosie."
You feel your throat tighten and he smiles into your hair. "I don't know the first thing about biology. I don't care whose eyes she has. I don't care whose nose she has. I don't care who signed what paper or what his last name was."
He gently tips your chin up until you're looking at him. "I've been hers since she handed me that beat-up stuffed dinosaur."
You can't stop the tears anymore, and he wipes one away with his thumb.
"And for the record..." His voice is impossibly soft. "The biggest idiot in Indiana walked away from you."
He gives you that crooked little grin that still makes your heart flutter after all this time. "Worked out pretty great for me, though."
You laugh, sniffling. "Yeah?"
"Oh, absolutely."
He starts counting on his fingers. "I got the prettiest girl I've ever met."
You roll your eyes. "Mm-hmm."
"I got a kid who thinks dinosaurs eat grilled cheese."
"They do."
"They absolutely do."
"And..." He leans over to steal a quick kiss. "I got invited to tea parties."
"A real privilege."
"The highest honor."
You smile into another kiss. Then he rests his forehead against yours and murmurs so quietly you're not sure he even meant to say it out loud.
"I didn't step up because someone else stepped out." His thumb brushes your cheek. "I stepped up because I fell in love with you."
"And somewhere along the way..." His smile softens into something almost impossibly gentle. "...I fell in love with her too."
You don't answer; you just lean into him until he's practically swallowing you whole with one of his hugs.
The familiar rumble of Eddie's van pulls into the driveway just as Rosie finishes painting approximately half of your thumbnail and almost all of your finger.
She leans back with a look of absolute pride. "There."
You hold your hand up to admire the aggressively uneven layer of bright pink polish coating your nail and cuticle alike. "It's beautiful, bug."
"I know."
She nods very matter-of-factly before dipping the tiny brush back into the bottle with all the confidence of a seasoned professional and absolutely none of the precision. The front door creaks open a second later.
"I'm home!" Eddie calls.
Rosie's head whips toward the foyer so quickly she nearly launches the polish across the living room. "Daddy!"
She abandons your half-finished manicure entirely and hops off the couch, bare feet slapping against the hardwood as she sprints toward him. You hear him laugh before you even see him.
"Whoa, whoa, easy there."
You round the corner just in time to see Rosie wrap herself around one of his legs. Eddie looks exactly like he always does after work at the shop.
His curls are tied back in a loose bun that's already halfway fallen out; there's grease smeared across his cheekbone and forearms, his old band shirt is stained with oil, and his jeans look like they've survived some kind of explosion underneath a car.
He crouches down anyway. "Hi, sweetheart."
She immediately wrinkles her nose. "You're dirty."
He looks down at himself. "...Little bit."
"A lot bit."
"Maybe a lot bit."
She reaches up and pokes a streak of grease on his arm with one tiny finger. "Ew."
He gasps dramatically. "Excuse me? This is artisan-grade mechanic seasoning."
"It looks yucky."
"It probably is."
He scoops her up anyway, careful to keep his hands away from her clothes as much as possible before carrying her over to where you're standing. His tired eyes immediately soften the second they land on you.
"Hi, pretty girl."
You smile. "Hi yourself."
He leans down, stopping just short of kissing you. "I'm gross."
"I noticed."
"You sure?"
You grab the front of his shirt and kiss him anyway, grease and all. When you pull away, he looks almost offended. "I literally smell like motor oil."
"And?"
"And you kissed me."
"I happen to like motor oil."
He grins. "Liar."
Rosie wedges herself between the two of you. "You both smell funny."
You snort. "Thanks, Rosie."
"You're welcome."
Eddie presses a quick kiss to the top of her head. "I'm gonna go shower before I contaminate the entire house."
She watches him head toward the hallway before suddenly remembering something incredibly important. "Wait!"
He turns. "Yeah?"
"I'm painting nails."
His eyebrows lift. "Are you now?"
She proudly holds up the tiny bottle. "And after Mommy's..."
She points directly at him. "...I'm doing yours."
He looks at you, and you very helpfully shrug. "I don't make the rules."
He presses a hand dramatically to his chest. "I've been selected?"
"You have."
He smiles at Rosie. "You got black?"
She blinks. "What?"
"Black nail polish."
She looks down into the little plastic basket of colors before digging through every bottle with increasing concern. "No..."
He sighs dramatically. "Of course."
She brightens. "I have sparkles."
He looks at you, and you bite your lip. He already knows he's doomed. "Well..."
He says carefully. "...dealer's choice."
Rosie gasps like she's just been entrusted with the nuclear launch codes. "Really?"
"Mhm."
She nods once with complete seriousness. "I know exactly what to do."
You exchange a look with Eddie. He mouths, Help. You smile sweetly. Absolutely not.
Twenty minutes later, he's freshly showered, hair still damp around his shoulders, wearing an old pair of gray sweatpants and one of your favorite oversized Sabbath shirts. He sits obediently on the living room floor while Rosie carefully arranges her entire nail polish collection around him. You curl up on the couch behind them, pretending to read while secretly watching everything.
Rosie picks up one bottle, sets it down. Another, sets it down. ThenâŚshe finds it. The brightest, loudest, most offensively glitter-infested neon purple imaginable. You physically have to cover your mouth.
Eddie eyes it suspiciously. "...That's the one?"
She nods enthusiastically. "It's princess purple."
"Oh."
"And sparkles."
"I see."
"And hearts."
"I can... also see that."
"And glitter."
"I definitely see that."
She beams. "It's pretty."
He looks at her, then at the bottle, then back at her. Without another word, he extends both hands. "Do your worst."
Rosie giggles so hard she almost falls over. For the next half hour, she paints with absolute artistic freedom. The polish ends up on his fingers, his knuckles. One suspicious streak somehow appears halfway up his thumb.
She pauses every few minutes to inspect her work before adding another layer. When she's finally done, she grabs both of his hands and holds them up proudly. "There."
Eddie examines them with complete sincerity. "...Rosie."
She waits expectantly.Â
"I think these are the coolest nails I've ever had."
Her entire face lights up. "Really?"
"Oh yeah." He wiggles his fingers dramatically. "I've never looked more fabulous."
She immediately launches herself into his lap for a hug. He catches her without hesitation, wrapping one arm around her while being careful not to smudge his fresh manicure. You watch them from the couch, smiling so hard your cheeks hurt.
Rosie pulls back just enough to admire his nails again. "I made you pretty."
He gently tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. "You always do, sweetheart."
She yawns a huge, sleepy little yawn, the kind that scrunches up her whole face. Eddie notices instantly.
"You getting tired?"
She shakes her head, then yawns again. "No."
"Mhm."
"I'm not." Another yawn.
He smiles knowingly. "Sure."
She curls herself against his chest anyway. Within maybe three minutes, she's completely asleep. Eddie looks over at you, careful not to move too much.
His hands are still decorated in violently purple glitter polish. His stepdaughter is slightly drooling on his shirt. His hair is still damp. He looks happier than you've ever seen another human being.
You quietly reach over and lace your fingers with his. He glances down, then back at you.
"So..." You whisper. "You gonna keep the nails for work tomorrow?"
He looks at his hands, looks at Rosie, looks back at you, and smiles. "Absolutely."
"You know the guys are gonna make fun of you."
He shrugs. "They can."
You raise an eyebrow. "They won't bother you?"
He looks down at the little girl asleep against his chest and gently kisses the top of her head.
"I'd let this kid paint my entire face green if it made her smile."
He glances back at his sparkly purple fingertips. "As far as I'm concerned..."
He wiggles them proudly. "...these are the coolest damn mechanic hands in Hawkins."
The house has long since gone quiet.
The dishes are done, the lights downstairs are off, and somewhere outside, rain taps softly against the bedroom window. The fan hums overhead, filling the room with the kind of gentle white noise that always seems to lull everyone to sleep.
Rosie had insisted on one extra story tonight. Then one extra hug. Then one extra glass of water. Then one extra kiss for Mr. Sprinkles. Then another for herself. If you give a mouse a cookie, or whatever they say.Â
By the time you'd finally pulled her bedroom door closed, she'd already been halfway asleep.
Now you're curled beneath the blankets with your head resting on Eddie's chest, absentmindedly tracing lazy circles against his side while he combs his fingers through your hair. Neither of you is talking anymore, the exhaustion of the day settling comfortably over both of you.
His lips brush the top of your head. "You asleep?"
"Almost."
"Liar."
"Mhm."
"You drooled on my shirt."
"I absolutely did not."
"You absolutely did."
You smile into his chest. "I think you're making things up."
"I would never."
"You literally convinced Rosie last week there were raccoons that delivered pizza."
"There could be."
"There aren't."
"You don't know that."
You laugh quietly, the sound muffled against him. "I love you."
He doesn't even pause. "I love you more."
"You can't prove that."
"I can."
"How?"
"I made you grilled cheese with the crusts cut off yesterday."
"I didn't ask you to."
"You didn't have to."
You shake your head, smiling to yourself. You don't know how much time passes before a tiny knock sounds against the bedroom door. Three little taps, then another.
Then the knob slowly turns. The door opens only wide enough for a small face to peek through. Rosie's eyes are watery; her little bottom lip trembles when she spots the two of you.
"Mama?"
Your heart immediately softens. You sit up before she's even finished speaking. "What is it, bug?"
She clutches Mr. Sprinkles tighter against her chest. "I had a bad dream." Her voice is so quiet you almost don't hear it.
You hold your hand out. "C'mere."
She doesn't hesitate. Bare feet shuffle across the hardwood before she climbs onto the bed, crawling right between the two of you without so much as asking permission, as though she'd done it a hundred times before.
Maybe she has. You immediately pull the blankets over her little shoulders while Eddie scoots closer from the other side, making sure she's tucked safely between you.
Rosie simply curls into your side, one hand reaching across until it finds Eddie's sleeve. She hangs onto it tightly. You smooth her hair back from her forehead.
"Wanna tell us about it?"Â
She shakes her head. "It was scary."
"I know."
"There was a loud noise."
You gently rub circles against her back. "But you're here now."
She nods once, then another sniffle. "You guys are here."
"We are."
"And we're not going anywhere."
She wiggles a little closer until she's practically glued to both of you at once. Eddie quietly reaches over and tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear.
"You know what's nice about bad dreams?"
She looks up at him with sleepy, curious eyes. "What?"
"They end."
She thinks about that. "They do?"
"They always do."
"And then you wake up."
She nods slowly. "I woke up."
"You did."
"And then I came here."
"You did."
"And now you're with us."
Rosie looks down at Mr. Sprinkles before whispering, "He got scared too."
Eddie leans over to inspect the stuffed dinosaur with complete seriousness. "He seems pretty brave to me."
"He was pretending."
"Oh."
"He didn't want me to be scared."
Eddie smiles softly. "I think he did a pretty good job."
Rosie considers that before giving the dinosaur a little kiss on the nose. After another quiet minute, she yawns. One of those enormous little yawns that seems far too big for someone so tiny.
You can't help smiling. "Tired?"
She immediately shakes her head, then yawns again. "No."
"Mhm."
"No."
She curls up even smaller anyway, one hand still tangled in your pajama sleeve now, the other resting against Eddie's arm.
You feel Eddie's hand find yours over the blankets, his fingers lacing through yours without a word. Rosie's eyes are already drifting closed. Just before she falls asleep, she mumbles something so quietly you almost miss it.
"I'm happy."
You glance across at Eddie, and he's already looking at her.
"What made you think of that, sweetheart?" he asks softly.
Her eyes never open. "I like when we're all together."
Your throat tightens instantly.
She nestles deeper beneath the blankets. "I like my home."
A few seconds later, she's asleep; completely, peacefully asleep.
You and Eddie don't move; you don't dare. He looks over at you in the darkness, and there's something in his expression that says everything words can't.
You reach over the little lump of blankets between you and rest your hand against his cheek. He turns just enough to press a kiss into your palm.
this shit actually made me ugly cry from pure content
Sumerry: You and Marko have gone out for around a year,almost every night you two would have dates on the boardwalk or go on rides. But it's hard living on a vampire schedule while still being human. Sometimes a cozy night is what you need.
A/N: Life wants to keep me down rn so I stayed down and wrote this.
Pair: Marko x reader (and Paul if you squint)
A harsh knock on the window woke me up from my sleep. Calling it knocking is generous, it was more like banging. I tried to ignore it, but then it would start again, but louder. I groggily got up from my desk, walking over to the window. Outside, Marko is swinging from the tree with a smirk across his face.
He was hanging from the tree branch that was not too far from my bedroom window. He kept swinging back and forth like a kid at recess.
"Were you kicking my window?"
"How else was I meant to knock? My hands are busy." One hand let go of the branch, showing how he could have easily nocked with hands but decided not to.
"Can I come in or not, cutie?"
"Come in." I move back into my room, feeling a strong gust of wind as he comes in. Hearing his boots hit the floor as he landed and walked behind me.
On my desk I see the clock, it was 11:36 pm. Damn, I must have knocked out while trying to study. Marko and I usually meet around 10, no wonder he came to my house.
"Shit, I'm sorry, Marko. I was studying, and I guess I crashed."
"Thought so, cutie." He grabbed me by my arm, pulling me close until I was right up against him. The cool leather touched my skin, helping to wake me up. "So I decided to swing by and save you from boredom."
I wrap my arms around his neck, bringing him in for a kiss. I intended it to be a small peck on the lips, but Marko kept me in place. He had a metallic taste on his lips, most likely from blood. It was strange at first, but I quickly grew accustomed to it. It's not like the metallic taste was bad at all. I ended up pulling away out of need for air. We break away, and he makes his way to my desk.
"So this is what has all your attention."
He flips through the papers on my desk, some new and some old, that I need to throw away but forgot to. He quickly got bored by it, shifting his attention to a small toy ball I had on my shelves.
"Trust me, I don't want it to. I've been trying to shove this in my brain, but nothing's sticking."
"I can help,I know things." He tosses a small toy ball up in the air, then catches it over and over. I'm not fully sure how he found that,I'm pretty sure I lost that in the mess of my room a whole ago.
"Fine" picking up a random paper and asking a question.
"What year did Columbus set sail?"
"Pass" he says without missing a beat.
"What is the chemical symbol for gold?"
"Um pass"
"How about this, what is the powerhouse of a cell?"
"For sure pass" He throws the ball up and catches it again and again.
I give Marko a blank look because he has been zero help. I wouldn't have to restudy any of this if I actually passed the first time. But last time I decided to go out with Marko instead of studying.
"What? I'm not a trivia guy. That's more Dwayne's thing."
I tossed the papers back on my desk, which was already a mess of different subjects. "How am I ever going to pass any of this?"
"Oh, I know this one,dropping out."
Marko tosses the small ball to me. Catching it, I set it aside out of his reach before he broke something I actually cared about.
"Come on, baby, no job, no college, an infinite future." He walks close to my chair, placing his hands on either side of me, caging me in.
Leaning slightly out of my chair, getting close to his face. Teasing him with the proximity and the slight chance I will say yes. "I'm not dropping out," I state, standing up and pushing him aside so I can collapse onto my bed.
"Oh come on, we turn you, and you leave all that boring stuff," motioning to the stack of papers, "and be with me and Paul."
"and Paul?"
"Paul gets lonely, and who are we to deny him attention?" Marko smirks at his own comment. He takes off his jacket as he makes his way to my bed, dropping down next to me.
I cuddle into his side, resting my head on his chest. His skin was cold, sending a shiver down my spine. Marko ramped an arm around me, his other hand resting on my cheek. He once said he liked to feel my skin because of how warm I felt to him.
"You know, once in the 70s, David and I wereâ" Marko started to ramble on about some story from his past that randomly came to mind.
He had a habit of rambling, I think it's because he liked the sound of his own voice. It was always interesting to hear about his life as a vampire living through the ages.
His voice continued to soothe me by pulling me out of my own worry-some thoughts. His voice matched his energetic charm while still holding a slightly old-fashioned yet timeless accent. The more I got to know Marko, the more I picked up on things that were hints of the long life he's lived.
Exhaustion started to catch back up to me. I tried to keep my attention on what Marko was saying. Markos's voice was oddly soothing for such an energetic guy. It was always nice to hear him ramble on about something. It gave me a sense of energy yet comfort when needed. But before I knew it, I had fallen asleep.
If you liked this please feel free to like, comment, and repost. :3
Summary: Your Spanish is terrible. Eddie doesnât realize how terrible it really is. Whispering âMean Nothingsâ into his ear is fun until he catches on!
Tags: Fluff, Implied Smut, Reader is Described as Having âLittle Legs,â Minor Fetishization of Ethnicity (itâs iffy and literally so minor), 18+ MDNI!!
Length: 1.8k words
Authorâs Note: This is my first EVER full-length fic and I am SO EXCITED for you all to read it! One of these days Iâll make pretty headers and junk but I am currently writing these fics on my phone during those rare quiet moments where Iâm not chasing my children around.
I want my stories to reflect my personal experiences as a third-generation Mexican American. My stories are not meant to speak for Latinos/Latino-culture as a whole and I want readers of all kinds to enjoy what I write.
Because I want everyone to enjoy this, Iâve included translations for like 95% of the Spanish phrases, or have it translated in dialogue.
-
It happened the first time on complete accident. You came back to his place after work, yawning deeply as you threw your keys onto the counter. Eddie was looking in the fridge for something to eat when you wrapped your arms around his waist and said with a yawn, "ay, mi guero, I missed you."
You felt him go slightly rigid in your arms before he quickly relaxed himself and turned around to wrap you up just the same, a smile adorning his face and a twinkle in his eye.
"What does that mean? Mi guero?" He said with an exaggerated accent. You honestly adored his attention to detail in getting the pronunciation right.
You laughed as you put your hands on his chest and told him, "I'm basically just calling you my white boy."
"Oh baby, that I am." He purred. "And you're my spicy little pinto bean, aren't you?" His hands were playing grab ass and he was swaying you two of you back and forth, trying his best to be sensual.
You couldn't help but snort when you laughed at his audacity because "Eddie, pinto beans aren't even spicy!" You slapped his chest playfully and tried to walk away. But he certainly wasn't having any of that.
You were at the counter going through the mail when he came up behind you and put his arms on either side of you. He lowered his mouth down to you ear and murmured kisses into your neck, "Okay, but baby it's incredibly sexy when you talk to me in Spanish. Like, that's reaaaally getting me going right now."
"Ay, mi Gordita Supremo, es muy caliente?"
His kisses stopped and you turned to look at him.He looked at you skeptically before flashing a smile and a chuckle.
"Isn't that just that thing you get from Taco Bell?"
You burst into laughter at having been caught.
"You do realize that I really don't speak that much Spanish, right?"
He gives you a playful little poke in the ribs, "Aw, come on! Alls I'm saying is that it does something to me, and you should definitely do it more often." He gives you the most sincere and adoring face, the one that tells you just how much he loves every single part of who you are.
And you really wanted to give him what he wanted, you truly, honestly did!
But you were a so-called "No Sabo Kid." Your parents and your grandparents tried so hard to assimilate that all you were really left with were bits and pieces of a culture you yearned to feel more connected to. You held the pieces you had close to your heart because you never wanted to forget where, or who, you came from. And you loved that this was his way of trying to celebrate that as well.
Or maybe he was just discovering some sort of Latina fetish that he needed to work out, you honestly couldn't be sure! Either way, you loved the man and all his eccentricities.
-
It came to you later, when you were thinking about what he said. Grandpa Lupe actually did teach you some Spanish. They weren't⌠the nicest phrases, often goaded into saying them for some quick change. "I'll give you a quarter if you call your aunt a puta. Say it with me, 'puta, puta.'" You gladly repeated it to whoever your grandpa set you upon, partially for the easy money, but mostly for that loud, boisterous, full-bellied laugh it would pull from him.
And when you thought about it, would Eddie really even know the difference?
So the next time you and Eddie were in the middle of a heavy make out session, you tried it.
Hands all over each other bodies, Eddie settled underneath you like a man who knew how to let a lady treat him, arms wrapped around your waist, lips and tongues playfully entwined, hands massaging your ass like a damn stress ball, he was just completely wrapped up in you. You slowly kissed your way from his shoulder to his neck, up to his ear, and with your most sultry voice in your most exaggerated accent, you whispered, "Ay Eddie, eres un burro precioso." (Oh Eddie, you are a beautiful donkey.)
Eddie was absolutely gone. Done for. Finito.
He groaned loudly and held your body tighter against him as he choked out, "Oh fuck baby, you're driving me fucking crazy right now." He was now panting and kissing your body like it was going to evaporate any minute. "I've never been so fucking turned on in my life, Christ." He quickly carried you to the bed, slammed the door, and ravished you like his life depended on it.
-
Extremely satisfied with the reaction you got and happy to serve his needs, you decided to wrack your brain for other phrases you remembered from your impromptu Spanish lessons. You were quickly loaded with an absolute arsenal of "mean nothings" that you could use to your benefit. The fact that it was also kind of funny was neither here nor there to you. He was none the wiser, and you loved making your man happy.
Just like that, it kind of became a thing.
Eres tan bruto (you're so dumb) got murmured into his neck, earning you a grip around your waist so tight it left marks. Cochino sinvergĂźenza (you dirty, shameless pig) came out almost by accident one night and you were rewarded with a whimper that sent shudders down your spine. Ay que barbaro, eres un cabron tremendo (oh how outrageous, you enormous bastard) elicited a noise from him that was so otherworldly, you honestly don't know how you kept your composure. You're pretty sure he nearly came on the spot with that one.
Eddie Munson was down so bad for his Latina girlfriend and her little Spanish phrases. It might have been kind of concerning if it weren't so damn amusing.
-
The two of you were doing the same old song and dance as always, completely wrapped up in eachother on a quiet evening at his place. You were barely two steps in the door when he pounced, lifting you on to the counter and slotting himself between your legs. He kissed you like the taste of you was hoisted to the very peak of Maslow's stupid triangle - like he couldn't be a whole person without it. His hands were being especially greedy, just overflowing with ass, hips, thighs and breast. You had your arm draped around his neck, the other hand roaming his neck and chest, legs possessively hanging around his waist. And because you loved your man so much and you wanted to make him happy, you did it again.
"Ay callate, pinche bobo," you moaned into his ear.
The kissing stopped, hands and bodies frozen in time as Eddie pulled his face back slowly. He opened his mouth, furrowed his brow, and narrowed his eyes while you looked at him, confused and concerned.
"Did⌠did you just call me a fucking idiot?"
Your eyes shot wide as you badly tried to hide your reaction by slipping down off the counter, ducking under his arms and fleeing across the room, as if the distance was going to make your next line more convincing.
"What?" Was all you could muster.
"'Oh, shut up, you fucking idiot.'" he translated back to you with amusement and a slight chuckle. He had his hands on his hips and he was studying the way your face dropped. "Isn't that what you said?"
You turned around immediately, you just couldn't look at him right now. You had been caught, irrefutably caught. But, how? The plan was fool proof. Was he taking secret Spanish lessons or something? He really would do something that sweet, wouldn't he?
And then it dawned on you. Something you quietly made note of at the last few family gatherings and didn't think much of until this moment. With a gasp and a turn about using the balls of your feet, you pointed an accusatory finger at him, suddenly turning the situation back on him.
"You've been talking to Grandpa Lupe!!"
His eyes widened as if this was something he should actually be defending himself about.
"He's been teaching you bad words, hasn't he!?"
Eddie scoffed and crossed his arms, ready to explain himself like a petulant child that just got caught stealing cookies.
"HE⌠he told me ALL the kids do it AND he gives me a quarter every time I say it around Tia 'Ria!" He smugly explains. You could see him badly trying to tame the corner of his mouth from cracking a smirk, instead forcing an incredulous look on his face as he argued his point. "He told me that I was behind ALL the other kids who learned when they were younger and that I have A LOT of catching up to do!"
Your face was flush with imagined anger, a move that came easily to girls like you. "I can't believe you guys! I knew I should have never introduced you! You're just as much of a shit head as he is!" You yelled at him, as if him learning Spanish curse words was the real problem in this situation.
"Wait, what else have you been calling me!?" he whined back. He wasn't about to let this go anytime soon.
"Don't worry about it!" you answered, totally exasperated and playing completely innocent.
"Have you been insulting me this entire time!?"
"You honestly seemed to be enjoying yourself!" You rolled your lips inward and put one finger over your mouth, feigning the appearance of an absolute angel. You could see his body twitch forward ever so slightly, a signal that he was going to be on the move very shortly.
"You've been letting me get off to insults!?"
That was what broke you. You couldn't even pretend to hide how funny you thought it was. "I told you I didn't know that much Spanish!" you squealed with laughter.
You saw him starting to close the distance between the two of you, arms wide like he was wrangling an animal. You continuously moved, zig zagging around the kitchen trying to dodge him.
"It's not my fault that you gringos are so easy!"
Quick on his feet and using his long legs to his advantage, he closed the distance and wrapped his arms around you, lifting you into the air, your little legs flying around as you shrieked and laughed.
"THAT'S IT." he shouted as he carried your flailing body down the hallway, growling with an evil kind of laughter that told you exactly what you were in for.
"You've been a very bad niĂąa! Time for your repentance, you spicy little brat."
You are breathless with laughter and complete joy, yelling with your entire chest, "PINCHE EDDIECITO!!" (Fucking rotten little Eddie!!)
Even knowing what he knows now, he still wears that moniker like a badge of honor.
-
End Note: I donât know what yaâll believe in but I have to tell you that when real-life Grandpa Lupe died, the next day my cousin (who was probably only like 1 or 2 years old) was caught standing in his bedroom doorway, looking at his bed chanting âputa, puta.â 𤣠Heâs a shit head, even in death. â¤ď¸
description: eddie munson: menace to society, terror of hellfire, professional instigator. also eddie munson: brings his girlfriend lunch, calls her âsweetheartâ in public, and gets clingy when heâs drunk. literally the best boyfriend ever imo.
pairing: eddie x you (fem!reader)
tags: boyfriend!eddie, established relationship, nauseating fluff omfg, not ashamed of PDA, sweethearts you to death, brings you food & flowers, forehead kisses!!, hands on you at all times, sleepy cuddles, drunk eddie is clinggyyyy, always checking if you ate, wearing his clothes, scoops ahoy shenanigans, whole friend group calls him out but he simply doesn't care, your mom loves him
TW: ur face is gonna burn from the amount of blushing, sorry!!
WC: 4.5k
A/N: here's a spoonful of sugar on this fine Wednesday night!! requested by @eddiemunsonsimpp i hope you love it!! reblogs are always appreciated!! <3 i have a craving for angst after writing this LOLOLOLOLOL sorta. enjoy my lovesđ¤
The table rattles when Eddie slams his hand down, rings clinking sharply against the wood, eyes wild under the dim glow of the theatre room lights.
âNoâno, you donât get to second-guess now,â he snaps, leaning across the board like heâs about to climb into it. âYou made your move, Henderson, you live with the consequences. Thatâs how this works. Thatâs how life works.â
âDudeââ Mike starts, already half-defensive.
âNope!â Eddie cuts him off, pointing a dramatic finger like a dagger. âNo take-backs. No rewinds. The goblins smell fear, and right now?â He grins, all teeth, all chaos. âYou reek of it.â
Dustin groans. âYouâre literally evil.â
âI am a merciless god,â Eddie corrects, spreading his arms like heâs about to summon lightning. âAnd youââ
The door creaks open.Â
âHey,â you say softly. And itâs like someone flipped a switch.
Eddie freezes mid-rant.
Hand still in the air, expression still intense for a half-second too long before it melts. Into something soft, something that has absolutely no business existing on the same face that just threatened fictional teenagers with death-by-goblin.
âHi, sweetheart,â he says, voice dropping instantly, like it was made just for you.
The boys at the table all groan in unison.
âOh my god,â Dustin mutters. âThere it is.â
âThank you,â Mike says, pointing at you like youâre a savior. âYour boyfriend is being EVIL.â
You glance at Eddie, eyebrows lifting just slightly.
âEvil?â you echo.
Eddie scoffs, already pushing his chair back, completely abandoning the campaign like it never mattered.Â
âSlander. Absolute slander.â He moves around the table toward you, all easy smiles now, reaching for your hands like itâs instinct. âI was being firm. Thereâs a difference.â
âYou told him his character was going to die alone in a ditch.â
âHe is going to die alone in a ditch,â Eddie says lightly, then immediately softens again, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. âBut thatâs not important right now.â
Itâs ridiculous, honestly. One second, heâs theatrical doom incarnate, the next, heâs looking at you like you hung the damn moon.
âYou came,â he adds, quieter, almost like it surprised him.
âYeah,â you smile. âI said I would.â
Behind him, Gareth makes a gagging noise.
âCan you at least pretend weâre still here?â he calls out.
Eddie doesnât even turn around. Just lifts a hand and waves him off lazily. âCampaignâs on pause. Critical emotional moment happening.â
âOH MY GODââ
âWatch your tone,â Eddie shoots back automatically, then softer, without missing a beat:
âYou want to sit? I can grab you a chair. Or, wait, did you eat? I brought snacks, but I can get you something better ifââ
âYouâre doing it again,â you tease.
He blinks. âDoing what?â
âThis,â you gesture between the two of you. âTheââ you lower your voice, mimicking him, ââsweetheart, did you eat, do you need a chair, do you need the world handed to you on a silver platterâ thing.â
Eddie grins, completely unapologetic. âYeah. And?â
You huff a quiet laugh, shaking your head.
Behind you, Dustin leans toward Mike. âItâs like watching a rabid dog turn into a golden retriever.â
âI hate it here,â Mike whispers back.
Eddie ignores them entirely, already shrugging off his jacket and draping it over your shoulders like itâs second nature.Â
âItâs cold in here,â he says, softer now, fingers lingering for a second too long at your arms. âYou always say itâs cold.â
âThank you,â you murmur.
âAlways,â he says.
From the table: âARE WE PLAYING OR NOT?â
Eddie sighs dramatically, finally turning halfway back toward them.
âFine, fine, everyone chill, Iâll be back in two seconds.â Then, quieter to you, leaning in just enough that it feels like a secret: âStay? Please?â
As if you were going anywhere. You nod, immediately.Â
âThatâs my girl.â
Gareth makes an even cruder gag leave his mouth, âThatâs it, Iâm going to hurl.â
You tilt your head, peeking around Eddieâs shoulder. âDo it away from the table, please. I donât think thatâs in the campaign notes.â
Eddie grins, obnoxiously proud, like you just proved a point he didnât even have to argue. âHear that? Even sheâs got table etiquette. Take notes, freaks.â
âOh, weâre the problem?â Mike scoffs. âYou literally just abandoned us midânear-death experience.â
âCharacter development,â Eddie shoots back. âBuilds resilience.â
âYou said he was going to die in a ditch.â
âAnd he is, Henderson, keep upââ Eddie starts, already winding back into it before he catches himself, glancing at you.
Immediately, his tone softens again.
âYou sure youâre good?â he asks, quieter, thumb brushing your wrist like he canât help it. âNot too loud? I can kick them out.â
âHeyâ!â the table protests in unison.
You laugh, shaking your head. âIâm okay. Promise.â
He studies you for a second like heâs making absolutely sure, then nods. âAlright. But if they get annoyingââ
âOh! Weâre annoying?â Dustin cuts in.
Eddie points at him without looking. âYouâre first to go.â
You bite back a smile, leaning in just slightly. âYouâre very protective for someone who was just threatening fictional murder.â
Eddie leans closer too, conspiratorial, voice dropping like itâs just for you. âTwo very different skill sets, sweetheart.â
âOh, clearly.â
You roll your eyes, but your smile gives you away. âGo play your game, Munson.â
He hesitates for half a second like he actually might argue, then sighs, dramatic as ever. âFine. But if I TPK them, itâs because you distracted me.â
âYou donât need help with that,â you shoot back.
Dustin slams the table. âTHANK YOU.â
Eddie points at you again, delighted. âSee? She gets me.â
âSit down!â Mike snaps.
Eddie leans in one last time, quick, pressing the softest kiss to your temple.
âDonât go anywhere,â he murmurs.
You huff a quiet laugh. âI wonât.â
The bell above the door jingles lazily as it swings open, letting in a wave of warm air that immediately clashes with the artificial chill of Scoops Ahoy.
You donât look up at first. Youâre halfway through scooping mint chocolate chip for a kid who cannot, for the life of him, decide if he wants sprinkles or not.
âSprinkles,â Steve says flatly from beside you. âYou want sprinkles. Everyone wants sprinkles. Itâs not a personality trait, kid.â
Robin snorts from the register.
âSteve Harrington, bully of small children,â she mutters.
âHey, Iâm helpingââ
The bell jingles again. Eddie stands just inside the doorway, a little flushed from the heat, hair wild from the wind, Hellfire shirt slightly wrinkled like he threw it on in a rush.Â
Thereâs a brown paper bag in one hand, carefully folded at the top.
His eyes find you immediately. And then, there it is. That soft, stupid, completely gone look.
âHi, sweetheart,â he says, like thereâs no one else in the room.
Steve physically recoils.
âOh my god,â he whispers.
Robinâs eyes go wide. âNo, no, I need to see this up close.â
You bite back a smile, handing the kid his cone before wiping your hands quickly.
âHey,â you say, stepping around the counter. âWhatâre you doing here?â
Eddie shrugs like itâs nothing, but heâs already walking toward you, opening the bag.Â
âWayne made chili,â he says, voice softer now, like heâs letting you in on something special. âSaved you some. Said, and I quote: âDonât let that girl eat mall food all day.ââ
Your face lights up instantly. âYouâre lying.â
âWould I lie about Wayneâs chili?â Eddie gasps, offended. âThatâs sacred ground, sweetheart.â
He pulls out the container, still warm, and hands it to you like itâs something fragile.
You take it carefully, grinning. âTell him I love him.â
âAlready did,â Eddie says easily. âHe told me to tell you to stop forgetting to eat.â
Robin makes a noise that is somewhere between a squeal and a choke.
Steve just stares. âIâm sorry, who are you?â
Eddie glances over, unimpressed. âStill me, Harrington. Relax.â
âNo, because thisââ Steve gestures wildly between you and the chili and the entire situation ââthis is not the guy who told Dustin he was going to emotionally devastate his character last night.â
âI did emotionally devastate his character,â Eddie corrects. âThis is unrelated.â
Robin leans over the counter, chin in her hands, watching like itâs live entertainment. âSo, what, you just⌠bring her food now? Thatâs a thing you do?â
Eddie shrugs, like itâs obvious. âYeah.â
âYou bring us anything?â Steve cuts in.
Eddie doesnât even hesitate. âNo.â
âThatâs insane.â
You laugh, nudging Eddie lightly with your shoulder. âYou didnât have to do this.â
âI know,â he says, softer. âWanted to.â
Behind you, Robin grabs Steveâs arm. âIâm telling you right now, sheâs the reason he hasnât committed at least three felonies this week.â
âLow estimate,â Steve mutters.
Eddie rolls his eyes, but thereâs no bite to it. âYou guys done, orâ?â
âOh, weâre just getting started,â Robin says sweetly. âSeriously, what did you do to him?â
You blink. âWhat do you mean?â
Steve leans in, conspiratorial. âHeâs like, domesticated.â
Eddie makes a face. âI will leave. I will take the chili, and I will go.â
You immediately clutch it closer. âDonât you dare.â
âSee?â Steve points. âProof. Sheâs got him trained.â
Eddie scoffs, but his hand finds your wrist anyway, thumb brushing lightly like he canât help it.
âNo oneâs training me, alright? I just...â he glances at you, something softer flickering there â...like taking care of her.â
Robin softens for half a second at that, then immediately ruins it.
âGross,â she says.
âDeeply gross,â Steve agrees.
You laugh, shaking your head. âIgnore them.â
âGladly,â Eddie says, eyes still on you.
âOh!â Robin suddenly straightens. âWait, speaking of gross, Jonathanâs having people over tonight.â
You raise a brow. âGross?â
âNot like that,â she waves it off. âJoyce is out with Hopper, so itâs basically free house privileges. Music, drinks, the usual.â
Steve perks up. âYeah, itâs actually gonna be fun. You should come.â
Robin grins at you. âAnd bring this one. I wanna see if he can survive outside of a dungeon setting.â
Eddie scoffs. âPlease. I thrive in all environments.â
âYou almost got kicked out of a movie theater for yelling at the screen,â Steve reminds him.
âThey were making bad decisions!â
You laugh again, looking between them before glancing back at Eddie. âYou wanna go?â
He doesnât even pretend to think about it.
âIf youâre there?â he says, easy. âYeah.â
Robin clutches her chest. âI canât do this. I canât watch this happen in real time.â
âToo late,â Steve mutters. âWeâre witnesses.â
Eddie ignores them entirely, nudging the chili gently back toward you. âEat first,â he says, softer. âThen weâll figure it out, yeah?â
You nod, smiling. âYeah.â
Your room smells faintly of perfume and hairspray, and the window is cracked just enough to let in the cool evening air.Â
Itâs a mess in that very specific, I tried on five outfits and rejected all of them kind of way. Clothes draped over your chair, shoes kicked off near the bed, a half-open drawer that you absolutely meant to close ten minutes ago.
You stare at yourself in the mirror, tilting your head slightly.
Before you can overthink it again, you hear the familiar rumble of his van outside; loud, unmistakable, and a little obnoxious. Your lips tug into a smile before you can stop them.
The doorbell rings a second later.
âGot it!â your mom calls from downstairs.
You freeze for half a second, then immediately move, smoothing your hands down your outfit as you step into the hallway.
âWell, there he is!â your mom says, bright.
âHi, maââ Eddie starts, then grins, already holding up the messy bundle of wildflowers. âBrought peace offerings.â
âOh, you donât have to do that every time,â she says, but sheâs smiling like she absolutely expects it.
âYeah, I do,â Eddie shrugs easily. âIâve got a reputation to maintain.â
âYou really do,â she laughs, stepping aside to let him in. âCome in, come in. Sheâs still getting ready, shockingly.â
âHey!â you call from the stairs.
Eddie looks up immediately.
âHi, sweetheart."
âHi,â you smile, starting down the stairs.
Your mom gestures toward the flowers. âYou see what I mean? Every time.â
âIâm consistent,â Eddie says proudly.
âYouâre extra,â you correct.
âOnly for you.â
âMmhm,â you hum, but youâre smiling as you step closer.
He holds the flowers out to you like itâs second nature now.
âThese are for you.â
âWildflowers again?â you ask, taking them.
âBest kind,â he says. âLow maintenance. Survive anything.â
Your mom points at him. âThatâs exactly what I said.â
You narrow your eyes. âYou two have been talking about me?â
âExtensively,â Eddie nods.
âEddie.â
âKidding,â he grins. âMostly.â
You roll your eyes, but youâre laughing, setting the flowers down carefully before turning back to them.
Your mom leans casually against the wall. âI was just telling him you used to take twenty minutes to pick an outfit when you were ten.â
âThat is notââ
âIt absolutely is,â she cuts in.
Eddieâs eyes light up. âNo way.â
âDo not encourage her.â
âIâm fascinated,â he says. âPlease, continue.â
You point at him. âYouâre supposed to be on my side.â
âI am,â he says easily. âI just also want the full story.â
Your mom nods approvingly. âSmart man.â
âThank you, maâam.â
You groan. âUnbelievable. Iâm being teamed up on in my own house.â
Eddie steps closer, nudging your arm lightly. âHey,â he murmurs, softer, âif it helps, you still look better than anything ten-year-old you picked.â
You glance at him, fighting a smile. âBarely.â
He grins. âDebatable.â
âSo, where are you two off to tonight?â
âJonathanâs,â you say. âJoyce is out.â
âAh,â she nods knowingly. âOne of those nights.â
Eddie raises a hand. âRespectfully, maâam, I will be keeping an eye on things.â
You blink at him. âOh, you will?â
He shrugs. âSomeoneâs gotta be responsible.â
Your mom laughs. âThis is true.â
You look between them. âIâm right here.â
âYeah,â Eddie says, glancing at you, grin softening. âExactly.â
You shake your head, grabbing your bag. âOkay, before I lose all authority in this situation, weâre leaving.â
âBye, Mom!â
âHave fun!â she calls. âAnd Eddieââ
He pauses, turning back.
âDrive safely, please.â
Eddie grins. âAlways do.â
You roll your eyes as you step outside, the cool air hitting your skin.
âUnbelievable,â you mutter. âYouâve completely won her over.â
Eddie squeezes your hand lightly. âI didnât win her over,â he says.
You glance at him. âOh yeah?â
He smiles. âShe already liked me.â
You bump your shoulder into his. âCocky.â
âAccurate,â he corrects.
Then, he opens the van door for you, bowing his head with the usual dramatic flair.
"M'lady."
"Thank you, kind sir."
That earns a quick, satisfied smile before he closes the door gently.
The Byersâ is already buzzing when you pull up.
Music spilling out into the yard. The lights are on inside, silhouettes moving past the windows, laughter drifting out every time the door opens.
Eddie cuts the engine, glancing over at you.
âYou ready?â he asks, but his handâs already finding yours, thumb brushing slow, absentminded strokes.
You smile. âYeah.â
âCool,â he nods, then leans over and presses a quick kiss to your temple before he even gets out of the van. âJust checking.â
Your heart does that thing again.
You shove him lightly. âWe literally just got here.â
âYeah, and?â he grins. âGotta set the tone.â
The second you walk in:
âOH MY GOD," Robin yells.
She barrels over like sheâs been waiting by the door.
âYou made it, and you brought him, amazing,â she says, grabbing your arm before immediately clocking Eddieâs hand at your waist. âYep. Still attached. Good to know.â
Eddie snorts, unfazed. âHi to you, too, Buckley.â
Steve appears behind her, drink in hand. âAlright, I give it⌠ten minutes before he calls her âsweetheartâ in front of everyone.â
Eddie doesnât even hesitate. He pulls you a little closer, pressing a kiss to your hair.
âHi, sweetheart.â
Steve throws his head back. âI wish I were deaf.â
You laugh, tucking into Eddieâs side as he keeps his arm wrapped around you.
Nancy smiles as she walks over.
âHi,â she says to you, then glances at Eddie, whoâs now rubbing slow circles into your hip without even thinking about it. âYou werenât exaggerating.â
You blink. âAbout what?â
Nancy just raises a brow. You donât even get the chance to respond before:Â
âEDDIE! PONG!â A chorus from across the room.
Eddie groans dramatically, dropping his head to your shoulder. âTheyâre animals. All of them.â
âYou love it,â you say.
âOkay, Iâm coming,â Eddie sighs, but he doesnât let go of you right away.
Instead, he presses another quick kiss to your temple, then your cheek, like heâs collecting them. âStay right here?â
âGo,â you laugh, nudging him. âBefore they riot.â
You end up leaning against the kitchen counter with Nancy, watching the chaos unfold.
Eddieâs at the pong table now, already loud, already animated: shouting, laughing, pointing at Robin like she personally insulted him.
âYouâre aiming wrong!â he yells.
âI am NOT aiming wrong, youâre just bad!â Robin fires back.
âBlasphemy!â
You canât help smiling. Nancy watches you for a second before speaking.
âHeâs really different with you.â
You glance at her. âWhat do you mean?â
She nods toward him.
âYou know him,â she says. âHeâs always like that.â She gestures; wild, loud, over-the-top.
âBut with you?â
Right on cue, Eddie looks up and finds you instantly, like a magnet. His entire face softens completely, and he flashes you that notorious Munson grin.
âThat,â she says.
You laugh a little. âHeâs just⌠like that.â
âNo,â she shakes her head. âHeâs not. Not with anyone else.â
âOH MY GOD HE MADE ITââ
Eddie jumps, arms up, Robin yelling with him as the ball drops into a cup.
âLETâS GOâ!â
He spins immediately, scanning the room again until he finds you, points, and grins. Like he did it for you.
Nancy leans closer. âSee?â
You bite back a smile, shaking your head.
A little while later, heâs back. Slightly flushed now, a little looser, eyes brighter.
âTold you Iâd win,â he says, sliding right back into your space like he never left, hands immediately finding your waist.
âYou were gone for like, five minutes,â you tease.
âLongest five minutes of my life,â he sighs dramatically, then drops his forehead to yours.
You laugh softly. âYouâre tipsy.â
âI am charming,â he corrects.
âYouâre clingy.â
âOnly with you,â he murmurs.
His fingers trace along your arm, like he just needs to be touching you somewhere. Nancy watches, fully invested at this point.
âDoes he always do this?â she asks you.
Eddie answers for you, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. âYeah.â
You roll your eyes, but you lean into him anyway.
âHeâs worse when he drinks,â you say.
âIâm better,â Eddie argues, nuzzling slightly into your hair.
Robin walks by, gagging loudly. âYouâre a nightmare.â
âJealous,â Eddie shoots back lazily, not even looking at her.
âOf what?!â she demands.
He sticks his tongue out in response, squeezing you a little tighter.Â
Nancy laughs under her breath.
âIâve never seen him like this,â she admits. âItâs kind of⌠cute.â
âDonât encourage him,â you say, even as your fingers curl into his shirt.
Eddie hums softly, pressing another kiss to your temple.
âToo late,â he murmurs. âShe loves it.â
Nancy smiles. âI do.â
You stare at her. âYouâre supposed to be on my side.â
âI am,â she says. âThis is just surprisingly, really entertaining.â
Across the room, Steve shouts something about a rematch, and Eddie groans.
âDo you have to go back?â you ask, teasing.
He looks at you, at them, then back at you.
ââŚNo,â he decides.
You laugh. âEddie.â
âIâm serious,â he says, softer now, thumb brushing your cheek. âIâd rather stay here.â
Your chest tightens just a little. âYouâre ridiculous.â
âYeah,â he smiles. âBut you like it.â
You, in fact, do.Â
And when he leans down, pressing another soft, lingering kiss to your forehead, arms wrapped around you, holding you close like thereâs nowhere else heâd rather be, itâs enough to make anyone watching roll their eyes.
By the time you get Eddie into the passenger seat, heâs all loose limbs and soft laughter, head tipping back against the seat.
âYouâre not allowed to tell anyone youâre driving,â he mumbles as you reach over to buckle him in. âRuins my reputation.â
You snort. âYour reputation is already in critical condition.â
âHey,â he murmurs, catching your wrist before you pull away, eyes half-lidded but still locked on you. âYou look really pretty tonight.â
You smile despite yourself. âYou already told me that.â
âYeah,â he says, like itâs obvious. âDoesnât stop being true.â
You gently pry your hand free. âSit back, Munson.â
âYes, maâam,â he says instantly, then giggles at himself like itâs the funniest fucking thing heâs ever heard.
The drive is quiet. Eddie hums along to the radio, occasionally reaching over just to rest his hand on your thigh like he needs to make sure youâre still there.
Every red light, he looks at you like he forgot how he got this lucky.
Wayneâs still up when you pull into the trailer. The porch lightâs on, casting a soft yellow glow, and when you help Eddie out of the van, his arm slung heavy around your shoulders. The door creaks open.
âWell, well,â Wayne says, leaning against the frame, amused. âLooks like someone had a good time.â
Eddie lifts his head just enough. âHi, Wayne.â
âYouâre drunk,â Wayne replies easily.
âAllegedly.â
You laugh, adjusting your grip on him. âHe lost that argument about an hour ago.â
Wayneâs eyes soften as he looks at you. âYou alright, sweetheart? He didnât give you too much trouble?â
You shake your head, smiling. âNo, heâs been good. Just, uh, very talkative.â
âAlways,â Wayne chuckles.
Eddie tightens his arm around you like heâs proving a point. âIâm fine.â
âMhm,â Wayne hums. âYou want some water before you pass out on the lawn?â
âIâm notââ Eddie starts, then immediately stumbles a little as you guide him up the steps.
You snort. âInside. Now.â
Wayne laughs, stepping aside to let you in. âYou got him?â
âI got him,â you nod.
âGood,â Wayne says, then softer, to you, âAppreciate you getting him home.â
âAlways.â
Getting Eddie down the short hallway is⌠an experience. Heâs clinging now, fully, all weight and affection, face tucked into your shoulder.
âYou smell nice,â he mumbles.
âEddie. Walk.â
âI am walking,â he argues weakly.
âYouâre leaning.â
âStrategically.â
You laugh, finally managing to get him into his room.
âOkay,â you say, easing him down onto the bed. âStay.â
He flops back dramatically. âI live here,â he informs you.
âNot the point.â
You turn to grab him a glass of water from the little table, but before you can even take a step, his hand catches yours again.
âDonât go,â he says, softer now.
You glance back at him. âIâm just getting you water.â
âStay,â he repeats, thumb brushing over your knuckles, slower this time. âPlease?â
That pleaseâŚYou sigh, but youâre already smiling.
âIâm not leaving,â you promise. âIâm right here.â
He relaxes instantly, like that was all he needed. âOkay.â
You grab the water quickly anyway, pressing it into his hand. âDrink.â
He makes a face but listens, taking a few slow sips before handing it back like heâs completed a major task.
âGood?â you ask.
âGreat,â he nods, then squints at you. âYou sure you're staying?â
âYeah.â
His whole face softens. âYeah?â
âYeah.â
âCool,â he says, like heâs trying to play it off, but the way his hand tightens around yours gives him away completely.
You move around the room like youâve done it a hundred times, probably because you have. Kneeling down to the bottom drawer of his dresser, your drawer, where he keeps all the things you need for when you stay the night.Â
You pull it open, fingers brushing over your skincare, your âspare clothesâ, which are just a jumble of his shirts, and various boxers he said looked âSexier on you.âÂ
You change quickly, slipping into one of his worn t-shirts, soft from too many washes, smelling faintly like him.
When you turn back, heâs watching you. Already half-asleep, but still watching.
âCâmere,â he mumbles, lifting an arm.
You laugh softly. âYouâre impossible.â
âMm,â he hums. âYou're impossible.â
You crawl into bed beside him anyway. Immediately, he curls into you, arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you close like itâs instinct.Â
âHi,â he murmurs, voice quieter now, softer with sleep.
âHi,â you whisper back.
He presses a slow, sleepy kiss to your shoulder. âYou drove me home.â
âSomeone had to,â you tease lightly.
âThanks,â he says.
You tuck a hand into his hair, smoothing it back gently. âAnytime.â
âYouâre staying, right?â he asks again, eyes barely open.
You smile, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. âIâm staying.â
He exhales, completely content now, nuzzling closer.
âGood,â he mumbles.
Your fingers trace lazy patterns along his arm, the room quiet except for the soft hum of the night outside.
âEddie?â you whisper.
âMm?â he hums, voice thick with sleep, face tucked into your neck.
Your fingers trace lightly along his arm. âYouâre very⌠affectionate when you drink. Like, more than usual."
ââCause Iâm obsessed with you,â he mumbles, like itâs the most obvious thing in the world.
You blink in the dark. ââŚEddie.â
âNo, I am,â he insists, shifting just enough to look at you, eyes barely open. âLike, real bad. Itâs kinda embarrassing.â
You let out a soft laugh. âYou think?â
âYeah,â he nods weakly, already nuzzling back into you. âLike, I see you and I justââ he makes a small, frustrated sound ââforget how to act normal.â
âYouâve never acted normal a day in your life.â
âNot the point,â he murmurs. âYou make it worse.â
You smile, brushing your fingers through his hair. âOh, Iâm the problem?â
âYeah,â he says immediately. âYouâre too pretty. Itâs distracting.â
âYouâve said that already.â
âIâll say it again,â he mumbles. âYouâre really pretty.â
You huff a quiet laugh. âOkay.â
âAnd nice,â he adds. âAnd funny. And you let me talk a lot.â
âI tolerate it.â
âYou love it,â he corrects.
ââŚYes, I do.â
He hums, satisfied with that, tightening his arms around you like heâs proving a point.
âI like taking care of you,â he says after a second, softer now. âMakes me feel like Iâm doing something right.â
âYou are,â you whisper.
âYeah?â he asks, voice quieter, almost unsure for a split second.
âYeah.â
He relaxes completely, pressing a slow, sleepy kiss to your shoulder.
âGood,â he murmurs. âDonât let me mess this up.â
âYouâre not going to.â
âYou promise?â he mumbles, words slurring just slightly now.
You shift just enough to press a soft kiss to his forehead. âI promise.â
He exhales, long and content, like that settles something deep in him.
âOkay,â he whispers.
His fingers trace lazy, uneven patterns against your side, slower and slower until they stop completely. But even as sleep takes him, he doesnât let go. Not for a single second.
AGHHHHH i hope you all loved it!! Just something simple and sweet to cleanse the palate. my cheeks hurt from smiling...but i can't say i'm too mad abt it
have an idea i've been kicking around bc i was desperate to write some Librarian!Reader.
Title: Paperbacks, Broken Backs.
Pairing: ( Meet-Cute ) - Ryland Grace x Librarian!Reader.
Rating: K.
Words: 1.1K
Summary: Ryland Grace introduces himself to the new Librarian - You.
âRyland Grace Masterlistâ
The very first thing Ryland Grace noticed about you was that you didn't smell like old paper and resignation like the last Librarian. There was a waft of something faintly vanilla and something akin to rain, a scent that cut through the musty atmosphere of Grover Clevelandâs mid-sized Library.
And he meant to be completely normal about it, pre-teen girls had a tendency to way overdo it in the perfume department, pre-teen boys dowsed themselves in Axe so his nose at times felt overly sensitive. But from you, it was a welcome addition to the new and old books on the shelf.Â
And in fact, the blonde only noticed it because he was standing entirely too close to you, having severely miscalculated the trajectory needed to retrieve a book from the shelf without bothering you or the cart you had parked in the fiction section. He had long arms! He could totally just⌠squeezeâŚ
âWoah!!!â He yelped, the sound echoing a bit too loudly in the silence, long limbs giving out like they stood no chance against regular gravity before he almost tangled himself rather intricately with the cart. On the ground. A cascade of books surrounded him. The Giver, Holes And a well-worn copy of A Wrinkle in Time were just a few of the casualties as they plopped to the floor in a series of soft thuds.
âOh my gosh, are you okay?â Your voice beckoned through the silence, capped by a sense of genuine concern.Â
You were fast to shuffle around, re-adjusting the cart back into an upright position and only moments later, you knelt beside the blonde, eager to help, maybe a bit guilty from the look on your face as you shuffled the books to the side.
Ryland found himself blinking a few times as if to re-calibrate before his blue eyes drifted to the top of your head as you leaned over him to grab the stray copy of The Hunger Games.There were a few strands of hair that had escaped your messy bun, and for some odd reason, Ryland felt a blush creeping up his neck, an all to familiar and very unwelcome heat as his pale skin had the tendency to give away his emotions before he had a chance to wrangle them back into submission.Â
He began stammering, launching his body into uncoordinated and unrelaxed motions. âI-Iâm fine! Totally fine!â He leaned over, reaching for a book at the same time you did. Fingers brushed, just barely. You felt⌠soft. Like a new paperback, Rylandâs eyebrows furrowed at that stupid allegory.Â
âMy fault, one-hundred percent. I have uh- a personal space bubble thatâs very miscalculated for indoor use.â He forced himself to laugh despite his best urge to keep his mouth shut. âItâs more suited for like, space. Or maybe just a wide-open field.â He nodded like he was reassuring himself. âDefinately not libraries.â
A small laugh escaped you as you both got to your feet, Ryland dusting off his jeans and readjusting the grey jacket with a clearing of his throat. He felt his stomach do an uncomfortable flip watching as you smoothed out the few strands of hair from your messy bun that heâd noticed earlier.
âI donât think Iâve ever heard an excuse like that before, MrâŚâ You paused, looking at him expectantly with curious eyes.
âRyland Grace.â That was said a bit too fast, his mind was now the victim of a mental slap as he shut his eyes for a moment. âI teach science.â You raised your eyebrows like that somehow many sense based on this short interaction.
âSixth grade. Mostly. Sometimes seventh if the sub is unavailable. Mrs. Gallagaher--- The usual seventh grade teacher--- She just had a baby, you know.â Ryland stared down at you. You did not know as his mouth fell shut slowly, his teeth taking in a piece of the inside of his cheek and nipping it.Â
âIâm the new Librarian.â Your voice peeped gently compared to the mess of his own. âItâs nice to meet you, Mr Grace. Even if you are trying to dismantle my poor book cart.â
âJust Ryland, please. âMr. Graceâ is my dad, he taught uh--- High-High School Linguistics before retiring like five years ago. Now he just sits at home and paints while my mom chats about what the garden was looking like that morning. So factually, what you just said is very incorrect.âÂ
He was rambling. And he knew he was rambling as he cleared his throat again, attempting to appear non-chalant as he leaned over, propping an elbow on the shelf to his side and letting his body weight sink into it. He slipped, the fabric of his jacket was not a conduit for friction and you watched carefully as the science teacher readjusted himself once again to just⌠Cross his arms in front of his chest.
âOh, well, Iâll keep that in mind.â A slight grin took your face as you drifted back to your cart. âIt was nice to meet you, Ryland.â
âLikewise." The messy blonde almost bowed his head at you as your gaze lingered on him before pushing your cart down the aisle.
Ryland watched you for for a moment, his arms still defensively crossed tightly over his chest like he was death-gripping himself. And just as you were about to turn the corner, he seemed to remember something - something important - and called out, his voice too loud for the space like he had no control over the volume.
âAnd donât worry!â He raised the book in his hand and waved it like a prize. âIâll be back! To you know, return this. Thatâs the primary function of a library, at least from my understanding. So it would be totally weird if I didn't come back. Have to fulfill the purpose set forth by libraries around the world.â He may as well just slam the book against his face and call it a day.
You couldnât help but let out a small laugh as his voice trailed down the aisle at full force. The sheer flustered logic of it, that he had to announce the intentions of a library struck you as⌠Unexpectedly charming. You spared him one last glance of acute amusement as he stood there, exactly where you had left him looking like a statue someone had dressed in a blue button down, jeans and a grey jacket.
Ryland noticed you looking at him, his whole body condensing into one singular jerk as if he were shocked. He snapped his head towards the ceiling, raising a hand up to the back of his neck and decided to glance at the shelf beside him as if he were looking for something else.Â
summary: As a music lover, the record store had always been your comfort place. A place for just you and your favorite music. But what happens when the you and the cashier start sharing song recommendations?
wc: 4,4k
warnings: fluff, multiple music titles, talk about music, first attempt at writing romance and a kiss scene
a/n: Hello! I've been working on this fic for months and finally I finished it. This is my first time writing an x reader story and romance. I had a lot of fun writing this. I hope you enjoy! (also posted on ao3)
masterlist
The opening of the Starcourt mall was the best thing to happen to you this summer.
For the past few years you went to the only record store in town. It was a small place with limited options but you shopped their anyway. The place was cozy and now it felt like home. The owners knew you as a regular and always let you know about new things coming to the store. While you loved that store the mall had brought another record store. A bigger record store.
When the mall first opened, the news did a segment about the new stores that were there. Their talk about new clothing stores, shoe stores, and the food court didn't interest you. It wasn't until they mentioned Indiana Records that he payed attention to the TV. From what they showed, it was huge compared to David's Music Store. You could see the hundreds of records that were displayed on the racks. As soon as you saw it you went to take a look. After that first visit you couldn't stop coming. You always found a new record to buy.
Even today, you were heading down there to find the new Talking Heads album that just came out. The radio stations were playing the songs all the time and you knew that you needed a copy of it to add to your collection. The mall was busy as you walked in; it has been since its opening. Your path was directed to the record store's location. All the other shops didn't get a glimpse from you. Finally, you stepped in the store. Your once fast pace was then slowed down. You looked at every section while walking to the rock albums. There were a few items in your arms when you reached the section. The album was front and center. There were only a few copies left, so you got the chance to look at pick the best looking one. You then slowly made your way to the checkout counter, standing at the back of the small line.
Tearing your eyes away from the music you looked at the person at the register. Your eyes widened slightly at the sight of Eddie Munson standing behind the counter. From the dozens of times you've been here you've never seen him working. You didn't even know he had a job other than drug dealing. But then again, you didn't have a close relationship with the boy. You only knew him from his theatrics in class and his club. You've spoken a few times but only for school related assignments. He wasn't your friend but you didn't treat him like others usually did.
Eventually, it was your turn to check out. As you walked up you noticed he looked a little shocked to see you. He said your name if a surprised tone in his voice.
"Did you find what you were looking for?" he said his scripted line.
"Yep," you responded.
He then grabbed your items, taking a look at each one.
"Woah, I didn't know you were a Talking Heads fan?"
"I only really listen to '77."
"What about Cyndi Lauper?" he said holding the album up. "It's a completely different genre than them."
"Not everyone just listens to one genre Munson."
He put a hand on his chest. "I'm wounded! Do you take me as something who just listens to one thing."
You smiled. "Maybe."
"I have you know I listen to different genres."
"Oh really? What ones?"
"Metal, rock, and uh," he trailed off, trying to think of another one.
"That's it?" you said challenging him. "Only two?"
"Well how many do you listen to?" he said with a laugh.
"Eight."
"No way!"
"Yes way!"
"Well do you listen to metal?" he asked putting your items in a paper bag.
"Haven't listened to it yet."
"Let me give you some recommendations then."
You thought for a moment before agreeing. He then listed three songs for you to listen to. To Whom the Bell Tolls by Metallica, Rainbow in the Dark by Dio, and Breaking the Law by Judas Priest.
"Okay, I'll listen to them."
He smiled before telling you the total of your purchase. You paid before he handed you your items.
"Have a nice day," he said with a large smile on his face.
"You too!"
You then walked out of the store with a smile on your face. You repeated the songs that he said over and over so you wouldn't forget. You were definitely going to find a way to listen to those songs as soon as possible. Let's see how good his music taste is.
A few days later you found yourself making a trip back to the record store, however this time you weren't there to buy more music. After getting recommendations from Eddie you immediately asked if your friends owned any of them. Luckily, one of your friends said that they thought their uncle owned that kind of stuff and was able to borrow it for you to listen to. The songs were different than your usual taste but it wasn't to unusual. Rock music has a genre you enjoyed and these songs were somewhat similar. You ended up enjoying them after listening to them a couple of times.
Which is why your going to the store. You just couldn't wait till you needed to buy something to tell him your thoughts about his recommendations. With ease, you made it to the front of the store and saw him at the register. The store had a few customers in it but none of them were ready to checkout. Taking the chance, you walked up to the counter.
"Hey!" you greeted.
"Hey," he said, noticing your lack of items. "Are you buying anything?"
You laughed out a no. "I listened to your recommendations."
His eyebrows shot up. "Oh, what did you think?" he said nervously.
"They were good. I especially liked Breaking the Law."
"Really," he said surprised.
You eagerly nodded. You talked all about the beat and the meaning of the song. All of your thoughts and feelings about the songs were just coming out. You didn't even realize that he wasn't saying anything in response. You definitely didn't notice the memorized expression on his face as you talked. It wasn't until you got to the talking about the last song that you realized. You stopped abruptly, putting a shy smile on your face.
"Yeah, I liked the songs you recommended," you concluded.
"Well I'm glad you did," he finally said. "Didn't expect you to actually listen to them."
"Why?" you were confused. Why would he recommend them if he thought you weren't going to listen to them?
"I don't know, it's just most people don't take my recommendation seriously."
"Really? Well they're missing out!"
He agreed with a big smile on his face.
"Do you want more recommendations?" he asked.
You lit up agreeing. "But I need to give you some recommendations as well," you said before he could speak.
"You're going to give me song recommendations?"
You nodded. "It's not fair that you get to just share your music. I gotta share mine too."
He laughed out an okay before telling you his next batch of songs. He wrote them down on a piece of receipt paper, giving you a piece to do the same. When you both done you exchanged.
"Enjoy your next round of listening!" he joked.
"And you as well!"
Just then a customer started to make their way up to register. You gave a brief goodbye before exiting the store. You folded the paper carefully and put in your jeans pocket. You hoped that your friend's uncle had these songs as well.
This trip to the mall was long overdue. You had planned to visit Eddie a few days ago but it seemed like time would never let you fit it in. As you were walking through the mall, something else caught your attention. There at the counter of the small ice cream shop was none other than Steve Harrington. You knew the boy from the previous supernatural events that happened. You didn't talk much but you had to go in there to get a closer look at what he was wearing. He caught the smirk on your face as you approached, rolling his eyes at the sight.
"Oh no, what do you want?" he grumbled out.
"Needing to get a closer look at that outfit you're wearing," you laughed out. "I didn't know you started working here?"
"Yeah, I didn't tell you for this exact reason."
"How could you! I've been missing on this entertaining sight every time I come to the mall."
The bickering would have continued but a girl walked out of the back of the store. She was wearing a similar uniform and hot short hair. Her eyes were immediately focused on you.
"You're the first girl to actually talk about the ridiculous uniforms," she smiled at you. "Every time Steve here tries to talk to one they make an excuse to leave when we all know it's the sailor uniform."
"How could no one talk about it? It's practically begging for you to look at it."
Steve quickly interrupted the two of you from continuing to talk about him and his awful look.
"I don't need two of you commenting on me every second, I already have one," he said looking towards his co-worker.
She simply rolled her eyes before giving you a smile.
"I'm Robin," she introduced herself.
You gave her your name as well. You could already tell that you would be talking to this girl more each time you visited. However, Steve started to get irritated with your presence. He tried to get you to go but to further your time there you bought a small cup of ice cream.
"Why do come to the mall so much?" he asked you while scooping your ice cream.
"How do you know I come to mall a lot?"
"I see you pass by the store every time. Most of the time you're walking out with nothing in your hands."
"Have you ever thought I come just to browse?"
"Well where are you going?"
"The record store."
"The record store is what's making you look giddy when you leave?"
You looked at him with confusion. "What are you talking about?"
"Every time I see you leave you got a big smile on your face. Is looking around at the record store that good?"
"Just give me my ice cream Harrington, I've got somewhere to be," you dismissed.
"Where the record store?" he said with a teasing smile. You gave him a glare.
Once he handed it across the counter, you finally left and went back to walking to your original location. You didn't understand what he's was talking about. What did he mean you had a big smile after leaving the record store? You would've continued thinking about it but the taste of the ice cream distracted you. The ice cream was good, another reason to stop by more often. You would just have to ignore Steve's pestering. In no time, you walked through the entrance of the record store.
You immediately walked to the hip hop section, taking a glance at the register counter. Eddie was there ringing up a customer. He hadn't seen you yet but you would be up there soon. You looked through the records and genres until you found the the album you were looking for, AC/DC Fly on the Wall. You didn't a bit of browsing but you were more focused on the counter. As soon as the line cleared up you walked up there.
The tired expression on his face wiped away once he saw you. You two shared a smile as you made eye contact.
"Back again?" he said.
"Yep, can't miss a release," you said. "I also finished listening to your songs."
"Great! I finished listening to yours too."
Your face lit up. "What'd you think?"
"They were okay," he said teasingly.
You rolled your eyes with a smile. "Just okay?"
He nodded trying to stop the smile forming on his face.
"What about Babooshka? Did you like that one?"
"That one was surprisingly good," he said.
"Well I have more songs just like that to share," you suggested.
"I'd love to hear them."
You were about to give him the titles when he interrupted you.
"Before you tell me, how about you call me about them instead?" he asked nervously, handing over a piece of paper.
Her eyes widened slightly. "You want me to call you?"
"Yeah," he said, his hands fidgeting with the paper. "So you don't have to come down here all the time just to talk to me, instead you can talk to me whenever you want."
A soft smile formed on your face. "Okay."
You took the piece of paper as he handed you your items back.
"Call me later will you. I get home at 7."
You nodded, giving him a shy goodbye.
"Tell me about that record you just bought tonight!" he called out as you left.
"I will!" you excitedly said back.
You gave each other one last look before you left the store. You kept looking at the piece of paper in your hand as you walked out. You couldn't believe it. Eddie Munson's number was sitting in your hand all because you talked about music. Whatever you were going to do today was out the window. You couldn't wait until 7.
That first call with Eddie was filled with shaky voices. For some reason, you found it harder to talk to him than when you were in person. But, while that first call was awkward, you both found it easier the more you called. Now instead of nervous laughing and stuttering, your calls were filled with playful arguing and discussion.
"Love is a Battlefield is way to cheesy," he stated.
"No its not," you clapped back.
"Yes it is! 'I'm trapped by your love and I'm chained to your side' is entirely cheesy," he said, referencing a line in the song.
"Okay, I guess its a bit cheesy," you caved. "But that doesn't mean its not fun to listen to!"
"I guess," he said, a smile present in his tone.
You started looking forward to your guys' talks. However, you did miss seeing him. You didn't have the excuse of talking about his recommendations to go to the record store. Every time you thought about going to talk to him worry bubbled in your head. What if he gave you his number because he didn't want to see you as much? Did you come off as annoying?
You didn't think that Eddie was a mean person like that, but it didn't stop you from worrying about it. The phone calls did help distract you though. But that one thought kept bugging you. You wanted to see him in person again. Which leads you now to your current phone call.
"You definitely got to check it out," he excitedly said after recommending a new song. "I think you'll love it."
You nervously spoke out a response. You waited a few moments before asking, "Hey Eddie, would you want to come over to show me the song?"
You listened to the silence on the other end of the line as you waited. Your mind was spiraling. Why wasn't he saying anything?
Finally, his voice appeared on the other end. "You want me to come over," he stuttered out.
"Yeah, I think it would be easier if you just showed me the song instead of me trying to find it," you said in your most confident voice.
There was another moment of silence again before he spoke. "Sure, yeah, that sounds good."
The weight on your chest lifted and a relieved smile took over your face.
"Great!"
"When do you want me to come over?"
"When's your next day off."
"Friday."
With that, you agreed to meet at your house on Friday. It was a couple days away, so you had some time to prepare yourself for his visit. Your call ended that night with you giving him your address. For the rest of the night your thought about him coming over. Those thoughts followed you all the way to today.
It was now Friday and he was coming over in a few hours. As soon as you woke up you started cleaning. You haven't had anyone over in a long time so there was a lot to be done. You didn't want him to think that you kept your house a mess. Your excessive cleaning took up the most part of your morning. When you finished you only had about an hour to eat and unwind. As you were looking through your cassette tapes to show him, you heard a knock at your door. He's here.
You quickly walked over and opened the door.
"Hey," he nervously said.
You let out a greeting as well before stepping aside to let in him. You both stood next to each other awkwardly as he look around your living room. You played with your fingers as you watched him.
"You have a nice house," he said after a while.
"Thanks," you simply said.
After a few more moments of awkward silence you spoke, "All of my music is in my room."
He followed you as you led him to your room.
"Do you live in this big house by yourself?" he asked as he followed you.
"No," you said. "I live with my parents. There at work right now."
He didn't say anything after that. Soon enough you made it to your room. You watched as you looked around impressed. He checked out your music set up, which included of a record player and a cassette tape player. Your walkman was on the table as well. Surrounding the equipment was a bunch of records and cassette tapes. You had them all organized by genre. He let out an impressed whistle at the sight.
"You got quite the collection here. More than I have," he said, his eyes still focused on your set up.
"Do you have a lot?" you asked curiously.
"Yeah, bins and bins of cassette tapes."
You were curious to see what his collection looked like. Maybe one day you go over to his place to see his collection.
"Well, what tapes did you bring?" you asked, switching the conversation.
He finally looked away from your stuff to pull out the tapes from his jacket pocket. He handed them to you and you excitedly looked them over.
"More Dio?" you asked.
"Yeah, you liked their other songs, so I thought you might like these ones," he said, fidgeting with his sleeve.
"What one do you want to play first?" you asked, curious if he had a certain order to play them in.
"Which ever one," he simply said.
"There's not a certain one you want to play me first?"
He paused for a moment. "Well, we could listen to Ride the Lightning first," he decided.
You smiled at your correct assumption. Handing him back the other tapes, you moved to play the first one.
"You can sit on bed if you want," you said as you put the tape in the player.
You didn't hear a response back, just some shuffling behind you. With the tape in, the first sounds of the guitar cords played through the speakers. You moved to sit next to him on the bed. The two of you sat on silence as you listened to the track, you in concentration and Eddie put of nervousness. About half way to the song you turned to him.
"This is pretty good," you said impressed.
"You like it?" he exclaimed, slight shock in his tone.
"Yeah, the guitar sounds amazing."
You watched as his eyes lit up.
"Right! They play so fast. When I first heard it I thought you have to be the greatest to play like that," he rambled. "Not to mention the deep lyrics as well."
Your focus wasn't on the song anymore. It only was background noise at this point. You couldn't stop staring at him. It was like after your comment he became a whole new person. Like he put down the act and started being himself. Your conversation about the song drowned out any other noise. You two didn't even realize that the tape had stopped playing. Just hearing each other's thoughts was enough.
For the next two hours you guys played music and talked. That nervousness from earlier had completely disappeared. Now you talked like you've been friends forever. It just felt so easy to talk to him. You didn't even realize how much time has passed. A call of your name further in the house disrupted your guys conversation.
"My mom's home," you said, nervousness overcoming you again.
He simply nodded before checking the time.
"I should probably get going," he sighed.
You both awkwardly got up, a little sad that your time together was over.
"I'll walk you out," you said, leading him out of your room.
You hoped that you wouldn't run into your mom on your way, but just your luck you did.
"Hi, sweetie," she said, hearing you come near. But she stopped when she noticed Eddie behind you. "Who's this?"
"This is Eddie," you gestured to him. He gave out a quiet hello with a wave. "We were listening to music together."
"He's the one you've been getting recommendation from?" she asked.
"Yes."
Your mother gave you a look that you ignored. You were not having that conversation right now. You continued walking Eddie to the door with a brief apology. He said he didn't mind but you couldn't shake the embarrassment off.
"We should do this again," he said before he walked out.
"Yeah, we should."
"We can try my place next time," he suggested.
"That sounds good," you shakily spoke out.
"I'll call you."
With that, you watched as he left. He gave you once last wave before getting in his van. When you shut the door, you released a breath you were holding. A smile immediately took over your face. You enjoyed the time you spent together. You couldn't wait to hang out again, this time at Eddie's place.
Visits with Eddie had become more frequent now. It didn't matter if he came over to your house or he came over to yours, you two always found a way to hang out. Your conversations have shifted over time. What was once just simple recommendations to each other, now evolved into discussing new releases. If any of the artists you two liked came out with a new album, you would get together and discuss. It was nice being able to experience them with someone else instead of by yourself, like you did before.
However, besides the music you noticed that you have become more comfortable around each other. Sitting closer to each other, touching each other's shoulder when you get excited about music, you even knew where everything was in each room. You noticed all of these changes. You weren't sure if he did though. He always acted the same way. He didn't act nervous like you did when you guys got close. You couldn't tell what he was thinking.
Even right now, you two were sitting on the bed next to each other. Your backs were to the wall and your knees were touching. Every time you were in this situation you always thought about making a move. Lay All Your Love On Me was playing in the background. The song was making you think that this was some sort of movie that was playing. Except for the Eddie's act.
"I had this lady today get mad at me for what her kid wanted to buy," he animatedly talked about his day at work. "It's not my fault that her kid picked it up, but she wasn't cussing me out for 5 minutes!"
You laughed, but it was a bit strained. Your eyes fitted back onto his face. The lift of his smile, the crinkles on his eyes, and the enthusiasm in his eyes. Everything was captivating your focus.
"What is it?" He asked, noticing your staring.
"Nothing," you said with a smile, turning away from him.
"No, what is it?" He continued to asked.
He leaned closer, trying to catch your eyes. You kept turning away, avoiding his attempts. Giggles from the both of you filled the air over the music. You both started wrestling on the bed, playfully fighting each other. Back on forth you guys went until he suddenly dropped his body on top of you. Your back hit the bed with a bounce as you froze. As soon as you both hit the bed you stopped. Your eyes locked into each other. His dark brown eyes were wide as he stared at you. Dilated pupils piercing through your own.
It was like time stopped. The music faded away to a point where it was like it wasn't even there. They only thing you could hear was the heavy breathing from the two of you. His hair fell down, caging both of your faces from the outside world. Suddenly, his face moved slightly closer. The movement was small but your proximity made you see it.
Confidence then surged through you. Your hands moved up to grab his arms, wrapped around his biceps. You lifted your chin, looking him in the eye.
"Kiss me," you whispered.
He gave you a surprised look before leaning in. Your eyes closed as soon as his lips met yours. It was awkward at first but you both easily melted into it. It felt like all the worry and anxiety had vanished as soon you felt him. Both of your bodies had relaxed into each other fully. The kiss didn't last long, before you slowly pulled away from each other.
You stared before you let out a small laugh, with him following immediately after. The giddiness consumed your body.
"I've been wanting to do that for a while," you confessed.
"Really? How long."
"Since you first came over."
He let out an exasperated laughed, which confused you.
"I've been wanting it since I gave you my number," he confessed.
A look of surprise made you gave at him.
"I had wrote it down long before I gave it you," he continued.
You both smiled at each other at your obliviousness.
"So you're telling me, I've been worrying and hyping myself up this whole time when I could have done it that first visit?" You joked.
He laughed with you.
"Well, no more waiting," he announced before leaning in again.
Finally after all this time, you got what you wanted. Who knew that this would have all started with this a song recommendation.
Summary: Abandoned outside a movie theater, Hawkins Highâs academic overachiever makes an impulsive choice.
Offering her extra ticket to Eddie Munson.
What happens when the Brain and the Criminal realize they might not be as different as Hawkins High insists they are.
Themes/ Warnings: Swearing/ strong language, No use of y/n, Reader is female, Lengthy talks laced with self-deprecation, a compilation of my teenage struggles as a retired quote unquote academic overachiever
Words: 11,4k words (im sorry)
âAre you kidding me right now?â
â
You're livid. Absolutely, undeniably livid.
â
It's bad enough you had to stomp through the freezing dark just to get here, wind slapping you in the face, your fingers basically turning to ice cubes, with a side of sketchy dudes yelling from their cars, making you wish you could disappear. And now, on top of all of that, Jenna, the only one in your grade you have enough of a connection to call your friend, is bailing. After a week of three long quizzes and two group presentations where you basically carried half the members, the one thing you were actually looking forward to is now ruined.
â
With a popcorn bucket in one hand and the payphone receiver in the other, you barely hear Jenna's voice over the ringing in your ears. Her excuses blur together.
â
âI lost track of time,â Jenna says, her voice strained and distant across the crackling line.
â
âMy car broke down,â
â
âI wasn't sure you were actually gonna' go,â
â
That last excuse pissed you off the most. You've been planning this the entire week. Agreed on the time, discussed the expenses, and now sheâs going to tell you that she wasn't sure if the plan was on.
â
Unbelievable.
â
Youâre about to hang up, maybe mutter a resigned âfine, see you tomorrow,â and just deal with it, when a distant voice drifts through the phone.
â
âBabe, come back here,â someone calls, muffled but unmistakable.
â
And then it clicks. Lost track of time, my ass. Youâve been ditched. Ditched for her asshole of a boyfriend, who youâre pretty sure doesnât even know your name.
â
You suck in a shaky breath, but it does nothing to quell the frustration you're feeling. Your hand is trembling as you slam the receiver down so hard it rattles the phone, the sound echoing sharp and final. You don't say goodbye. You doubt she even noticed, and if she did, you couldn't care less at the moment.
â
You trudge to a nearby bench, sit with a huff, and stare at the popcorn in your hands. You fish your pockets for the tickets, tickets you've already paid for, and were about to rip them into pieces when you overhear a commotion.
â
It was coming from the ticket booth.
â
âCome on, man,â said the guy who seemed to be the one causing the ruckus. âI'm two cents off!â
â
You vaguely see the clerk shrugging and shaking their head no, and the guy backs away. He starts to walk towards where you're sitting, and stops short just a little bit to your right.
â
âFucking prick,â you hear him mumble under his breath while he lights a cigarette, and as the subtle flicker of the fire comes to life, you finally get a better look at the man's face. You instantly realise who it is.
â
Munson.
â
You couldn't recognise him from the distance. His long, wild hair was haphazardly tied into a bun, a couple of strands falling and framing his face. Heâs still wearing his leather-vest combo, sleeves pushed up to reveal arms scattered with tattoos, but has decided to forgo the club shirt he wears all the time and is now wearing a band shirt you don't recognise.
â
You do some soul-searching.
â
You're pissed, you have a warm bucket of popcorn on your lap, and two unused tickets in your hands.
â
And now there was a boy standing right next to you, albeit a boy you don't really know, who seems to have a predicament that you can remedy.
â
Fuck it, you think. It's not like the night could get any worse.
â
âHey,â you call out from where you're sitting. He turns his head towards you, eyebrows raised in confusion, but doesnât say anything right away.
â
âHi?â he finally calls back, sounding unsure, like he's trying to figure out where he knows you from. Maybe gym class last year, or that group project where he never spokeâ not for the lack of willingness to help, but more so the lack of an audience. Eddie doesnât think you know each other, which also means youâre not hostile. For the most part, you just floated in each otherâs background, orbiting the same halls, but never really crossing paths.
â
You nod toward the ticket booth. âFreddyâs Revenge?â
â
He looks back at the booth, still not catching your drift. âUh, what?â
â
âThe movie you wannaâ see,â you clarify, trying your best to hide the remnants of frustration from your earlier conversation.
â
âOh. Yeah,â he says with eyes wide, recognition finally dawning on the boy as he glances between you and the booth. âThat one. Yes.â
â
Heâs still visibly confused, which, to your surprise, you find oddly...
â
Adorable?
â
The thought catches you off guard, and you quickly shove it away.
â
Youâve got your answer. Standing up, you walk over and, without a word, thrust the popcorn and extra ticket in his armsâA Nightmare on Elm Street 2: Freddy's Revenge written in fine print. He fumbles at the suddenness of your actions, nearly dropping both in surprise, causing his cigarette to slip from his lips.
â
As you're dusting off some suspicious patches of dirt on your pants from the rickety bench, Eddie finally catches up to your offer.
â
He's immediately wary, shoulders stiffening as if bracing himself for the punchline of some joke at his expense. There's a flicker in his eyes that says he's used to people offering things just to snatch them away, or worse, to laugh when he reaches out.
â
He begins to wonder if there's a catch. If there's an ambush waiting for him behind the theater doors, if you're going to demand free weed at the end of the night for being nice, anything. What could you want from him? Who are you?
â
Eddie knows your face. He knows he's seen it before, but everyone in Hawkins who wasn't his friends or his uncle has all blended together in his mind. He doesn't remember your name, but he does remember that he can't just keep staring at you for long.
â
âAre you sure?â Was the question that eventually made its way out of his mouth. He looks at you with this mix of suspicion and hope, the kind of look that comes from having too many good things turn out to be tricks.
â
You just look at him for a moment, thinking of any reason why you shouldn't be sure.
â
You're not friends. Barely acquaintances. If anything, you know him more by reputationârumors of dealing weed in a secret spot in the woods, tagging random buildings with obscure logos, and stealing faculty car keys for a joyride, following his name wherever he goes.
â
But there's something about the way he's standing in front of you at that very moment. His back is hunched, shoulders drawn in, like he's trying to appear smaller than he is. His eyes were wide and earnest, and his voice deep but impossibly gentle. The contrast between his rough look and the way he acts is almost disarming.
â
Every reason to say no is quickly overcome by the curiosity to say yes.
â
âHog the popcorn, and I'm shaving you,â was the answer you gave him as you made your way to the theater entrance.
â
You reach the doors. As youâre halfway through opening it, you look back, only to find him still standing by the bench, dumbfounded and looking at you like you might as well have spoken Latin. He couldnât make sense of you, and now there's something in his eyes, something in the way he was looking at you, but you couldnât decipher what it was.
â
âDude,â you say, beckoning him with a nod to follow you inside, deciding to let your observations go for now.
â
âOnly then does he snap out of whatever trance he's in, cheeks tainted pink as he mutters a soft âShit, sorry,â and jogs to you as fast as he can without spilling the snack in his arms.
âThe two of you walk side by side upon entering the theater, and Eddie immediately notices the stares, feels them creeping up his neck. His blazing into places isn't anything new. Most people in town have already grown accustomed to his presence, despite it being unwanted. He's learned how to stomach the nasty looks and the harsh whispers. For years now, Eddie had developed the skills to shut them all out. Walk proudly, look straight ahead, and scream as loud as possible on the inside to drown out all the noise from outside.
â
He doesn't seem to need any of it tonight.
â
Because tonight, every look of judgment and hurried whisper wasn't for him. They were aimed at you.
â
The guys by the popcorn line are gawking at you like youâre some carnival attraction, while the girls waiting for their boyfriends shoot you pitying glances, as if youâre trapped in a bad joke.
â
Somehow, out of the two of you, youâre the freak, just for being seen with him.
â
As you finally reach the hallway heading to the screening rooms, Eddie urges you to stop.
â
âHey, listen. Uh- I don't want to sound unappreciative, but-
â
âYou don't think this is a good idea,â you interrupt, already aware of what the boy in front of you is thinking.
â
âNot really, no,â says Eddie. He looked so solemn, framed by the theater's dim lights, a soft halo glowing around his curls. His eyes remain downcast, staring at the popcorn bucket still in his arms, flicking up just long enough to meet yours and then darting away, too shy to hold your gazeâ. For all his wild reputation, the tattoos, the loud music, and the leather, he looked more like someone whoâd apologize to a chair after tripping on it, rather than a no-good, criminal in the making.
â
You think to yourself, there's no way this is the guy parents tell their children about.
â
You start to speak, your voice low but steady.
â
âIf you wanna' go, that's fine. I won't hold it against you,â you start, angling your head to catch his eyes. He doesn't look up, but you continue. âBut if you wanna' go because of meâbecause you think every half-witted normie back there is bothering meâthey arenât. Right now, I truly donât have it in me to give a rat's ass. You're not here as a charity case or whatever narrative youâve got in your head. A friend bailed on me, and you needed a ticket. Thatâs it. I just didnât want to be alone tonight,â you finish, your voice growing softer at the admission.
â
There's a small stretch of silence after that.
â
At first, you thought this was the part where he apologizes, hands you your things, and turns around to leave you. He doesn't.
â
Instead, Eddie surprises you.
â
He moves past you towards the door, grabs the handle, and opens it for you. He gestures with his head as he says,
â
âAfter you.â
â
For the first time that night, you see him smile. It was shaky, hesitant, but authentic. You take it as a victory.
â
You give him a smile of your own, but it's more playful.
â
âGood choice,â you say, slipping past him toward the seats.
â
You both settle near the back, not so close your neck aches, but not so far you feel exiled. The sweet spot.
â
Or so you thought.
â
For a while, things between you were a little stiff, which was understandable, seeing as you were two strangers forced into small talk in the dark. The two of you filled that darkness with comments here and there about the previews. He called one of the romcoms âcheesy.â You said something about âcheesyâs not always bad,â and he left it at that with a smile.
â
You notice, after a bit, that he only grabs popcorn after you do, and never more than two kernels at a time. You counted.
â
You start grabbing a couple more pieces on purpose just to see if heâll take it as permission to stop eating like British royalty. He doesnât.
â
Finally, you prod him.
â
âYou know, I wouldnât actually shave your head, right?â
â
His laugh is nervous and quick. âY-yeah, yeah, I knew. Totally knew you were joking.â
â
Heâs taking three kernels at a time now, which was progress, but heâs still watching how often you grab some and match your pace.
â
And then, it was the Battle of the Armrest.
â
At first, it was the two of you retracting your elbows each time youâd accidentally graze each other, but then, as if he's testing the waters, Eddie bumps you on purpose, a sly little push. You retaliate with a not-so-subtle elbow nudge of your own. It escalates until both of you just start snickering and nudging the other off.
â
âI got you in here for free with popcorn,â you whisper, faux-offended, as he claims the armrest.
â
âYou mean the popcorn Iâve been holding for the last 20 minutes?â He grins, and you swear you see a dimple.
â
âItâs been 10.â
â
âAnd my armâs getting numb from it. This is how I lose my rockstar career.â
â
You smile as you shake your head at his behavior. You surrender, but only for a few seconds. You let him have the armrest, then, once he's comfortable, you move to casually place your elbow over his. He gives you a look, you give him one back as a challenge. He says nothing as he grabs more popcorn to shove in his mouth.
â
You look away first, but Eddie catches your smile.
â
And that's when it hits you. Youâre actually having fun.
â
Eventually, the lights went out, signalling the start of the movie, and that's when you saw it.
â
A few rows ahead, you spot two familiar faces from school, a couple who treat every public space like their own personal stage.
â
âCan't catch a fucking break in this town,â you mutter to no one in particular, used to voicing out reactions that get drowned in the sea of overly sweet giggles and macho antics of the crowd you run with.
â
âJesus H. Christ,â you hear Eddie say beside you, admittedly startling you a bit. You see him looking at the same couple you saw. âIs that not a health hazard?â
â
This makes you snort. He's funny.
â
âMight as well call it a threat to national security,â you reply, and both of you snicker, tucked away in your own private bubble.
â
âWe're trying to watch a movie here,â the bubble bursts.
â
You whip around to find none other than Tommy fucking H, flanked by who you assume as a pack of assholes you never bothered to meet when they were still at school. When did this prick slither back into town?
â
âOh, so two people sucking each other's face off is fine, but god forbid two people whisper a bit,â Eddie retaliates before you could fully process what Tommy said.
â
âFuck, Munson, is that you?â Tommy says with a condescending laugh, and then, as he notices Eddie's not by himself, âWith little Miss Valedictorian, too. How'd you bag that, Munson?
â
Eddieâs eyes snap to the back of your head, your face turned away from him while you're looking at Tommy. It was as if he was suddenly seeing you in a different light. Of course, you looked familiar. Your name, your face, hell, your entire reputation is plastered everywhere at Hawkins High. Debate trophies, quiz bee ribbons, banners shouting your victories, all branded with your name, flood through Eddieâs mind.
â
It took Eddie a minute to recognise you because you don't have classes together. He thinks you're probably taking every AP class known to man, while he's stuck wrestling with senior-level algebra for the third time. You're on your way to a bright future filled with college applications, honor rolls, and six-figure jobs, and yet here you are.
â
With him.
â
Sharing popcorn and an armrest with the drug-dealing, super-senior, like it's nothing.
â
Should he have just said no to you from the start?
â
His internal conflict is disrupted by your speaking up.
â
âDefinitely not by having his daddy do it for him,â you answer back, not appreciating the way Tommy's talking about you, instead of to you. âHow's the job search going?â
â
Tommy pauses just long enough to reload, then sneers, tossing out a half-baked insult meant to drag you both down.
â
â"You know, you should really watch what you say," he begins to say. âOr all you're gonnaâ get are junkie dropouts desperate for attention for the rest of your life.â
â
By now, your back-and-forth has stirred up a commotion, drawing curious stares from the rest of the theater.
â
Soon enough, one of the workers marched their way to your seats to address you and Eddie, completely ignoring the fact that the gaggle of pricks behind you played a part in the disturbance, too.
â
âExcuse me, we're going to have to escort you out. Both of you,â said the attendant who approached you.
â
âDon't bother. We're leaving,â you say, already on your feet and heading for the exit. Sparring with someone operating at Tommyâs IQ level is not on your agenda tonight.
â
You glance back to see Eddie right behind you, Tommy still snickering with his crew. Before you can stop yourself, words spill out.
â
âJunkie dropout,â you say vaguely, tossing his words back at him. âTakes one to know one, right?â
â
You catch his jaw tighten, but you turn away before he can spit out a comeback.
â
Eddie trails after you as you slip out into the night, finding your way back to the same rickety bench where it all started. This time, Eddie takes the seat beside you.
â
You lean back, eyes closed, head tipped over the backrest with a sigh. Eddie, perched at the edge, misreads your mood as frustration with him instead of the whole mess. You sense him fidgeting beside you.
â
âI'm sorry about that,â you hear him say.
â
âWhy?â you ask, opening your eyes to look at him fully, eyebrows drawn in confusion.
â
âI don't know, Iââ he stutters, his hands gesturing as if he's physically trying to coax the words out of his chest. âIt probably wouldn't have been that bad if I weren't there,â
â
âThat's stupid,â you reply without hesitation. âI don't know how you saw that situation, but you were not the problem.â
â
Eddie goes silent again. You keep surprising him.
â
âWhat did you mean?â he asks, remembering your words before leaving the cinema. âTakes one to know one?â
â
âOh,â you say as you sit back up, giving Eddie your undivided attention. âTommy didnât get his diploma, not the right way at least.â
â
No fuckinâ way.
â
âNo, he walked the stage,â he argues, emotions of envy disguised as indifference resurfacing in his mind. He pushes them back down. âI was dealing that day.â
â
âOh, he walked, alright,â you say, subconsciously placing your arm on the backrest. You donât notice that it would only take Eddie to lean back a couple of inches for your arm to be basically wrapped around his shoulder, but he doesâand now heâs acutely, painfully aware of it. He freezes, heart hammering so loud heâs sure youâll hear it. You go on to speak, unaware of Eddie's silent battle. âBut that was only because his dad paid off Higgins and half the faculty to save face. Tommy didnât meet the grade requirements. He tried to, but he didnât make it.â
â
Eddie takes this in with a deep, steadying breath, grateful for the distraction of your arm behind him. His whole perspective is skewing off-kilter in real time by your words, and he can still feel the echo of his racing pulse, every muscle in his body slow to unclench from your actions.
â
âSo, it was...â
â
âFake,â you finish for him. âTommy Hagan was a casualty of Hawkins High.â
â
âSaved by his daddyâs money,â he mutters to himself.
â
For the first time in a very, very long time, Eddie feels the heavy knot of self-blame loosen just a little. Maybe, sometimes things really are just unfair, and he's not the only one suffering from it. For a moment, the world feels a little less cruel, and he clings to that fragile sense of belonging as if it might vanish any second.
â
You look over Eddie and take in his features. He seems miles away, dead silent, and lost in thought. You think back on your parting words, and realization dawns.
â
Takes one to know one. Shit.
â
âI didnât mean that I thought you were aââ
â
âNo, I know,â he jumps in, voice soft but eager to reassure you. Guilt keeps your words tumbling out.
â
âI justâ I donât want you to think that Iââ
â
âI donât,â he interrupts again without a hint of hesitation in his voice, because he actually does believe you. For the very brief time heâs known you, heâs surprisingly certain that you truly didnât mean any harm. To hell with cliches, he thinks to himself. Youâre different.
â
Right then, you choose to trust Eddie. You meet his eyes, nod, and lean back, withdrawing your hand. The wind shivers through you, but something else makes you flinch.
â
âFuck,â you whisper.
â
âWhat's wrong?â Eddie asks, instantly alert. For the first time tonight, itâs you whoâs finding it difficult to meet his eyes.
â
âIââ you falter. Three-time state debate champ, and now you're stuttering through a single sentence. âI just kindaâ wish you didn't leave the popcorn in there,â you finally admit sheepishly.
â
Eddie stares at you, unblinking, until a slow, irrepressible grin spreads across his face.
â
Then he bursts out laughing, doubling over with his elbows on his knees and his hand pressed to his forehead, barely holding himself together.
â
You try to be mad, annoyed that heâs laughing at you during a moment of weakness, but a smile sneaks onto your face anyway. You shove his shoulder with a muttered âfuck off,â nearly sending him off the bench. He only laughs harder, and your grin only grows.
â
âGod forbid a girl is hungry,â you finally manage to say, between his bellows.
â
The asshole, an endearing one, sure, but an asshole nonetheless, had the audacity to wipe tears from his eyes as he calmed down. Once put together enough, he turns to you and says,
â
âWell, I know this place just down the street. It's probably still open.â
â
âI don't know,â you begin, pretending to hesitate, but then you ask, âDo they have good onion rings?â
â
âNo,â Eddie says, voice serious, before breaking into a grin. âOnly the absolute fucking best.â
âAnd so the two of you set off on your journey. Eddie stood up first, not bothering to dust his jeans off as you did earlier. He's sat on more questionable surfaces in his 19 years of existence, he thinks to himself. He steps forward, causing you to look up at him, confused. And then, he offers his hand with a flourish, every bit the gentleman.
â
âI am capable of standing on my own, you know,â you say, but not rudely, an easy smile still on your face.
â
âJust take my damn hand, Smarty,â he insists, wiggling his fingers at you.
â
âSmarty?â you ask with a snort of laughter, but to Eddieâs surprise, you take his hand anyway, letting it linger as you stand. For a moment, he freezes, caught completely off guard and confused about what he should do now. He hadnât expected you to accept, not really, and now he seems genuinely at a loss for what to do next. Then, almost bashfully, he breaks into an easy grin.
â
âAs in smarty pants. It was either that or âEinsteinâ,â he recovers.
â
âGroundbreaking,â you deadpan.
â
âI know, right? Absolutely outdid myself with that one.â
â
He guides you toward his van, parked only a few feet away, your hands still tangled together.
â
âI can also walk on my own,â you comment, in absolutely no hurry to let go.
â
âI'm not risking it,â he replies, making a show of intertwining your fingers and placing your still clasped hands inside his jacket pocket, drawing you closer to him.
â
âRisking what?â
â
âYou. Youâre precious cargo,â Eddie tries to say casually, though not quite able to keep the tremor in his voice, knowing he has your hand in his, and you were letting him. âThe future of Hawkins, Indiana. First president of the planet ten years from now. Iâm not risking you.â
â
You roll your eyes, but the flutter in your chest betrays you.
â
âWell, in that case, I think you should be carrying me,â you challenge.
â
âI would, but tossing you into my van in the dead of night might look a little suspicious.â
â
When you reach his van, he leads you to the passenger side. Youâre halfway to grabbing the door handle with your free hand when his hand darts out to swat yours away with a playful tut and a warning, âDonât you dare.â
â
Eddie opens the door for you and helps you up, using your joined hands as leverage. Once youâre settled, he finally lets go, and the absence of his warm, calloused hand is so jarring that you canât help the involuntary flex of your handâ a subconscious attempt to replicate the feeling, hoping to keep the memory of it a little longer. You look back at Eddie, expecting him to shut the door and circle around, but he lingers.
â
In the next second, Eddieâs in your space, his arm reaching next to your head for the seatbelt in a single smooth motion. The world narrows to the warm scent of his jacket, the gentle clink of metal as he pulls the belt across your chest and snaps it into place. And then heâs gone again, back where he was standing by the open door with a crooked grin.
â
âOkay, now this is just excessive,â you say with a huff, after the initial shock has worn off.
â
âWhat do you think âEddieâ is short for?â he quips, finally shutting the door and circling the van. You think Eddie sounds nothing like excessive, but you let it slide. Same first letter, close enough.
â
Once he's settled behind the wheel, he takes the keys out of his pocket and starts the ignition. The van sputters to life, a low tumble echoing out into the empty street. He takes a deep breath and clutches the wheel tight.
â
âYou good?â You ask after a while.
â
âYeah,â he starts to say, noticeably breathless. âI justâ it's not every day I have royalty to drive around in my humble chariot.â
â
You stare at him for a beat. You take note of his eyes, a gaze that comes and goes. One moment, you swear you're being hypnotized by its intensity, only to be gone, looking everywhere but you in the next. You notice his slightly trembling hands, which have been unsteady and uncoordinated the moment you placed the popcorn in his arms, and clammy for the short time you had it in yours.
âYou've been like this all night,â you say out loud, stating your observation.
â
âLike what?â he replies.
â
He keeps his eyes set straight ahead.
â
âJittery. Nervous,â you say, ticking off the symptoms. Then, on a hunch, you say, âDo I make you nervous?â
â
Eddie stills. He slowly turns to you with an expression youâve never seen on his face all night. One of his eyebrows is quirked up so high it disappeared under his dishevelled bangs, nose scrunched, and mouth left slightly agape. All the nerves and manic energy vanish, replaced by a look of such unfiltered incredulousness. For a heartbeat, he just stares at you, at a complete loss for what to say. When he finally speaks, itâs in a tone so squeaky, you would have been pretty sure only the dogs could hear it.
â
âYou only figured that out now?â
â
You couldnât help the laugh that escaped your lips, unable to ignore the hilarity of his admission.
â
âWhy would I make you nervous?â you blurt, genuinely stunned. The idea that Eddie Munson could be unsettled by you feels absurd. Youâre just another senior, maybe with a few extra ribbons, but still just another face in the crowd. Yet the way Eddie looks at you now, itâs clear he sees something else entirely.
â
âBecause you'reâŚâ Eddie starts, then falters, searching your face as if hoping the right words will appear there. He looks away, voice tight. âYou're unorthodox.â
â
âUnorthodox,â you repeat slowly.
â
âYeah, likeâlook, I have a system in place, okay? I have to if I want to survive,â Eddie continues. âIf youâre one of us, youâre a friendâ an ally. When push comes to shove, even if you donât like me, Iâm there for you. Always. If youâre a jock, youâre a threat. A fight waiting to happen. If youâre in cheer, youâre off-limits. Not even in a romantic sense, you just are. Not as a friend, as a lab partner, nothing. And if youâre Higgins, well, thatâs just evil incarnate territory,â his laugh is brittle, forced. You smile tight-lipped, but you donât laugh, realizing the depth of where his rant is heading.
â
âHe swallows hard.
â
âBut you,â he says, head turning in your direction, but his eyes are downcast again, the moment resembling his hesitance to enter the theater with you earlier. He goes on, voice growing softer the more he reveals.
â
ââYou donât fit anywhere. You blow the whole thing up. Youâre⌠valedictorian. Future Nobel Prize winner. The kind of person who has their name uttered in reverence by everyone, the kind of person who always knows the answer. You shouldnât even be looking my way. I shouldnât be worth your time, and I wouldâve been completely fine with that. Because I believe that. Our worlds should be light-years apart. I canât even picture your world, let alone imagine youâd ever look twice at mine.â
â
You stay quiet, letting him fill the silence.
â
âBut here you are, youâre⌠there,â
â
He pauses again, drawing in a deep breath before finally meeting your eyes.
â
âYouâre real. You let me hold your hand for Christâs sake. Me. I keep waiting for the punchline, but itâs not coming, and I have no idea what to do with that,â he says.
â
âEddieâs voice drops to a near whisper, as if heâs scared that speaking any louder might break whatever fragile connection exists between you. âAll night, I kept thinking youâd finally see it. Youâd realize youâre here slumming it with the town screw-up, and youâd just get up and leave. And I wouldnât blame you.â
â
He keeps his gaze on you, eyes wide and vulnerable. âBut you didnât.â
â
He rubs the back of his neck, laughter breaking through the nerves, but itâs soaked in disbelief. âSo, yeah, Iâm nervous. Because how the fuck am I supposed to handle any of this?â
â
Your heart breaks at his words, every word stealing the breath out of your lungs. You never considered the optics, never needed to. Yes, it was you that the people were gawking at earlier, talking about you like some sideshow act, but at the end of the day, none of it is going to stick anyway. People are just going to brush it off and forget about it. Call it a fluke. A one-time thing. A mistake.
But Eddie, the guy thatâs been branded as the townâs own personal bad luck, heâs going to carry this weight long after tonight. He already is. âFor Eddie, this is permanent. To you, this is a passing storm, and youâyou put him right in its path, chasing what you wanted and leaving him to shoulder the fallout.
You swallow, voice fragmented. âIâm sorry.â Itâs not enough, but itâs all you have.
â
Eddie blinks, startled. âSorry? For what?â
â
An apology was the last thing he expected to hear as a response.
â
âFor all of it,â you tell him, looking him straight in his eyes, conviction clear in your voice. âFor spurring all of this on you tonight. None of what happened, none of what was said back there bothered me, but I didnât consider whether it bothered you. You said I was the type of person who always knew the answer, but, evidently, itâs not all good either. When you feel like you know everything, you forget to ask.â
â
Heâs quiet for a beat, the silence stretching, but his gaze softensâsome old hurt flickering in his eyes, like heâs remembering every time heâs been on the outside looking in.
â
âAnd for everything before tonight,â you continued, feeling as if what you just said was inadequate. Eddie responds with a subtle tilt of his head, not catching up on what you were saying.
â
âThe people I hang out with,â you clarify softly. âFor what they do, what they say. Iâm sorry.â
â
For a moment, you see him start to close up, shrinking back into a hollow caricature of who he isâold defenses triggered by the mere mention of those people. Itâs a habit, you realize, he must have adapted over the years of being scrutinized before being known. No one else would take the time to get to know him, so might as well just give them what they want to see. You assume itâs easier that way. Efficient.
â
But Eddie immediately realizes that thereâs no need to hide who he is. Not with you.
â
âIt's not your fault,â he responds, his voice so quiet, you almost missed it.
â
âNo, butââ You falter, searching for the right words as your chest tightens. âBut I didnât do anything to stop it. I just stood by, every time, and kept silent. I let it happen because it wasnât about me. But thatâs just it. Not choosing is a choice. And Iâm sorry for every time I picked the easy one.â You look down at your hands, wishing you could take every moment back, wishing youâd been braver when it counted.
â
Eddie leans back, his eyes never leaving you. Silence stretches between you until, finally, he smiles.
â
âI forgive you.â
â
You shoot him a look meant to say, âThis is serious, not the time for adorable smiles and distracting dimples,â channeling your best glare.
â
âYou really shouldnât,â you say, shaking your head, pushing away the stray thoughts. âNot that easily.â
â
âEasily?â He asks with a grin, and for a second, you glimpse the version of him that comes alive around people he trustsâlively, teasing, warm. âYou offered me a movie, buttery popcorn, stood your ground for me against Tommy H, and, just to bring it up again because I'm still not over it, you let me hold your hand,â he says, humor dancing in his voice, and then, when he notices that you remain unconvinced, he sobers up a bit. âSeriously. We're good,â
All you could do was sigh. He was a persistent guy, and you're done assuming for him. If he says you're good, then you're going to respect that and carry on.
â
âYou wonât get far if you keep being that easy, Munson,â you tease, matching his smile.
â
âOnly for the pretty ones,â he fires back, winking in a way thatâs more dorky than smooth.
â
It fucking worked on you anyway.
â
âAnd cheesy as hell.â
â
âI thought cheesyâs not always bad?â
â
You give him an audible groan as he lets loose a gleeful laugh.
â
âListen,â you say after a pause. âTo answer your question about how we handle this, maybe we start small. Baby steps.â
â
âOkay. Baby steps,â he nods, fingers tapping on the steering wheel as you watch him think. âBut, like what, though?â
â
You pretend to ponder, masking the chaos in your stomach thatâs been churning for the last five minutes.
â
âMaybe you could start by taking this very cool person to this very cool place with the very best onion rings in town.â
â
âThat I can do.â
âAnd off Eddie goes, breaking traffic laws and the sound barrier, while you cling to the seat for dear life. You try to distract yourself by trying to decipher the cassettes poking out of his open glovebox. It was tape after tape of metal bands you didn't recognize, but you tried to file them in your mind, making a mental note to find some of them at the record store the next time you visited.
Metallica, Judas Priest, Black Sabbath, andâ
â
Hang on.
â
You nudge a few tapes aside, squinting to see if you really read that name right.
â
Eddie spots you from the corner of his eye, rifling through his collection. Thereâs a question in his raised brow as he speaks up.
â
âI mean this in the most respectful way ever, but I don't think there's something in there for you.â
â
You ignore him, stubbornness kicking in. With a little triumphant noise, you manage to free the cassette from the pile, holding it up to the light for confirmation.
â
The Sisters of Mercy. First and Last and Always.
â
âAnd I also mean this in the most respectful way, Munson, but you are sooo about to eat your words,â you respond, flipping the cassette his way so he can see the front.
â
Eddie glances over, easing off the gas in the process, and looks at you. His eyes go to the battered cassette in your hands, then to your face, and this motion cycles two more times before he finally speaks.
âNo fucking way,â he says under his breath. You smile with mischief.
â
You clear your throat, summoning the deepest voice your vocal cords would allow.
â
âIn a sea of faces,â you begin to sing, messy and off-key, but itâs enough to send Eddie into another spiral.
â
âNO FUCKING WAY,â he shouts through a laugh that blends into a scream, ecstatic.
â
âIn a sea of doubt,â you continue, your voice getting bolder with every word, until Eddie clamps his hand over your mouth, grinning like an idiot. You dissolve into a fit of laughter, unable to fight it.
â
âNope. Absolutely not. You've fucked my perception of reality over enough for one night,â he says through a gleeful smile.
â
You wriggle free from his hand so you can speak.
â
âFine, no more singing. But I'm borrowing this because my mom âmisplacedâ the one I bought last year.â
â
âDeal,â he says, still in disbelief, âFuckinâ Sisters of Mercy.â
â
You chuckle to yourself as you pocket the cassette in your hands. Youâre both silent for the rest of the drive, stealing glances at each other every now and then, before looking away with a snicker when your eyes meet.
â
âBy the time you finally arrived at the quaint diner, you were practically vibrating with hunger, more than ready to jump out of the van and march straight to the counter to demand everything they could serve hot within 10 minutes. As soon as the van rolled to a stop, you fumbled with your seatbelt, then tried to reach for the handleâ Lord knows you really triedâ but Eddie let out a screech that stopped you cold, your fingers barely grazing the metal.
You think he meant to say, âDonât do it,â but what actually erupts from him is a sound that you can only describe as a prehistoric, reptilian war cry.
â
Eddie leaps from the van, nearly tripping over his own feet three times before finally making it to your side to open the door for you.
â
âSeriously, Marian. Itâs like everything weâve been through meant nothing to you,â he declares with a huff, scandalized by your act of treason that was opening a door on your own. What you latched onto, however, was the new nickname.
âMarian?â You ask as you exit the van, amused at the reference.
â
âWould you prefer we go back to âSmartyâ?â he asks, closing the door behind you.
â
âIâd prefer we get inside and inhale as much greasy food as possible, pronto,â you shoot back.
â
You start to walk towards the diner, its bright neon lights attracting you like a moth to a flame. As you approach, you notice the slightly chipped paint, well-loved outdoor benches, and unevenly lit signage. While taking in the facade, your eyes land on the familiar face framed by the dusty windows, making you abruptly freeze mid-step.
â
You stop dead in your tracks, halting suddenly enough that Eddie, walking right behind you, nearly bumps into your back.
â
âWhoaââ he reacts, hands bracing himself on your shoulders to regain his balance. âWhy are we stopping?â
â
You inhale sharply, feeling the earlier frustration surge back through you.
â
âRemember when I said I got ditched tonight?â you answer, your voice overly calm and neutral.
â
He answered, "Yes?" his tone careful, sensing the tension radiating from you.
â
Words fail you. Instead, you reach up, grab Eddie by the chin, and swivel his head toward the scene. He squints, trying to make out the faces of the guilty parties.
â
âWhich oneâs the ditcher?â He asks.
â
âThe blonde one,â you answer through gritted teeth. âThe ape in a letterman jacketâs her boyfriend.â
â
You let your hand fall from Eddieâs face and slip it back into your jacket pocket, releasing a tired sigh. The anger from earlier fades, replaced by exhaustion. Sensing your shift, Eddie moves to stand between you and the window, shielding you from the scene inside.
âDo you want to go?â he asks you, concern written all over his expression.
â
A part of you does. You steal a glance past Eddieâs shoulder, gaze locked on Jenna and her boyfriend. The old voice in your head is urging you to go. To walk away and slip back into the comfort of pretending none of it bothers you. The option is familiar, an action you've done more times than you care to count. But as you turn to face Eddie, hand fidgeting with the Sisters of Mercy cassette in your pocket, your resolve crumbles.
You don't want your night with him to end.
â
You want the laughter to keep going, the easy jokes, and the freedom to be yourself. In just a few hours, Eddie has given you more joy than your revolving door of friends have in years.
â
You glance back at the diner, watching Jenna laugh with her boyfriend, her world spinning on without you. Thatâs when you decide.
â
You raise your hand parallel to your elbow, palm facing up.
â
You offer Eddie your hand.
â
âAre you sure?â Eddie asks for the second time tonight.
â
âI am. You?â Was all you say.
â
âLet's get you those onion rings, Marian,â he says, placing his hand in yours with the conviction of a soldier marching into battle, lacing each finger firmly.
â
Hand in hand, you step into the diner and claim a booth tucked away in the corner. Heads turn as you pass, Jenna and her boyfriendâs too, you assume. You feel Eddieâs shoulders tense, his grip on your hand tightening with every curious glance.
â
You both reach the corner booth, mostly unscathed. As you settle in across from each other, an elderly woman shuffles over, her attention fixed on Eddie.
â
âLook who the cat dragged in,â she says, a warm smile curling at the corners of her lips while her eyes glint with mischief. âMy eyesight ain't what it was, but I'm quite sure this pretty thing ain't your uncle,â You see Eddie shrink in front of you, bracing for whatever sheâll say next.
â
Then, in a whisper thatâs not really a whisper at all, Joni leans in conspiratorially, âShe your girl?â
â
Your eyebrows leap in surprise at her boldness, heat rushing to your cheeks. When you risk a glance at Eddie, his eyes are wide, ears burning red, panic written all over his face.
â
âChrist, Joni,â Eddie manages, his voice strangled by a nervous laugh. He scrubs a hand over his face, as if that could hide his blush. âEver heard of subtlety?â He gives you an apologetic look.
â
âTried it in '62. Worst year of my life,â Joni quips, not missing a beat. She fixes you with a keen gaze, a teasing lilt to her words as she says, âSo, youâre not Wayne.â
â
"Last I checked, no, ma'am." You answer politely.
â
âYou dating this tomato?â she asks you, making Eddie, now red-faced, lean back as if trying to melt into the seat.
â
âSorry to disappoint,â you answer with a laugh and a blush of your own. âBut we just met tonight.â
â
She regards you with a quiet hum, looking at you for a second longer before speaking to Eddie again.
â
âShe called me âmaâamâ,â she says with a satisfied smirk. âI like her.â
â
âSplendid, Joni,â Eddie groans, squeezing his eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose. Even with half his face hidden, you can see the crimson creeping up his neck. âCan we order now?â he mutters, clearly desperate to change the subject.
â
Joni finally relents, jotting down your orders: two chocolate milkshakes, a burger with a side of fries for Eddie, chicken tenders for you, and the very much anticipated basket of deep-fried onion rings.
â
As Joni retreats to the counter, you drum your fingers on the table, letting the silence stretch before finally addressing the bright red elephant in the room.
âYour girl, huh?â you tease, voice low, a smile twitching at your lips as you study Eddieâs expression.
â
âQuit it,â he shoots back, bristling, but you can see the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
â
âDâyou bring âyour girlsâ here often?â
â
âDo I look like I have girls to bring anywhere?â Eddie retorts, gesturing at himself, voice half-defensive, half-amused.
â
âYou brought me,â you point out, perching your elbow on the table and resting the side of your head on your knuckles.
â
âYeah, and youâre the first,â Eddie admits, his voice softer now, almost shy. This makes you smile wildly.
â
âI'm honored,â
â
âIâm gonnaâ puke,â Eddie groans.
â
âCominâ in hot,â Joni pipes back, bringing your orders to your table. Your mouth waters at the sight, and the aroma of the food seizes your senses. For a split second, youâre so distracted by the food that it takes a moment to register how impossibly quick it all arrived. How did it get here so fast?
â
Eddie, already on the same wavelength, narrows his eyes at Joni.
â
âThis is someone elseâs order, isnât it?â he says, his tone dry and familiar, suggesting this has happened before. Joni shoots Eddie a knowing smirk as she serves the food, leaving both of you with a sly, âI donât know what you mean,â and nothing more.
â
As soon as Joni walks away, both of you dig in, fully realizing that half a bucket of popcorn wasnât enough to sustain two growing teens for a night. Eddie offers the fries that came with his burger toward you, nudging the plate closer. You return the gesture, sliding a couple of chicken tenders his way. Your next target is the tall glass of chocolate milkshake, topped with, in your opinion, a little more whipped cream than usual. You werenât about to complain. After taking one sip, you were more than ready to worship the ground Eddie Munson walks on for bringing you to Joniâs diner.
â
âHoly shit,â you say, setting the glass down with reverence. âDid she steal this from Willy Wonka?â
âEddieâs face lights up, hands tapping the table twice, delighted to finally have someone to share his sentiments with. âI fuckinâ know, right?â he exclaims, leaning in, eyes wide with genuine excitement. âItâs the perfect consistency and everything.â
â
Soon enough, resisting the onion rings becomes impossible. You nudge Eddie with your foot under the table, drawing his attention away from the ketchup packet he's fiddling with for his fries. When he looks up, you tilt your head toward the steaming basket of golden onion rings between you, your eyes shining with anticipation.
â
âTogether?â he asks, taking a guess at what youâre hinting at.
â
âTogether,â you respond.
â
You and Eddie each grab an onion ring at the same time. You raise your rings, tap them together in a playful toast, then take a bite.
â
Your head hits the table.
â
With your eyes closed, savoring every bite, you have to admit Eddie was right. These are the absolute fucking best onion rings youâve ever tasted. Maybe itâs hunger, maybe itâs the company, or maybe Joni really is magic. Whatever the reason, youâve never felt so happy to be ditched.
â
âIf you told me you had friends in high places like this, I wouldâve offered you a ticket five years ago,â you mutter after chewing, immediately taking another bite.
â
Eddie shoots back, âWait âtil you find out I got a records guy,â his eyes sparkling with mischief. Heâs leaning in, elbows on the table, clearly at ease now.
â
âHeâs single, by the way,â Joni chimes in with a wicked grin, her gaze flitting between the two of you.
â
Eddie almost dies from choking on an onion ring, his coughing loud and desperate. His face flushes deep red, eyes wide. You double over with laughter, heat rising in your chest, a chaotic mix of concern, delight, and shared embarrassment. The words slip out before you can catch them.
â
âGood to know.â
â
Eddie clams up quickly after that, his entire body going completely still, as if his brain has forgotten how to take control of his limbs. He stares at you with the exact same look he had when you first asked him to join you earlier that night.
â
Flustered, you clear your throat, glance away, caught by the sudden awkwardness. Unsure, you focus on the milkshake, letting its cold sweetness distract from the tension in your chest.
â
Eddie slowly moves, hand gingerly taking a fry to bite, but what you fail to notice is the faint twitch of his lipsâa smile threatening to break free out of giddiness, the tips of his ears flushed as he glances at you from beneath his lashes.
âHey,â
â
You both turn towards the sudden intrusion, the noise slicing through the tension like a knife. What greets you is an uncomfortable-looking blonde, hair teased to hell and back, looking everywhere but at who she's supposed to be.
â
You hold your gaze on Jenna, silent and unblinking. Eddie, restless in the thickening tension, shifts in his seat and finally breaks the silence.
â
âCan we help you?â he asks, unamused.
â
Jenna ignores him with an eye roll, her lips pursed in a way that tells you sheâs holding back more than sheâs saying, and finally turns to you.
â
âCan we talk?â she snaps, arms folded and a single eyebrow raised. âAlone,â
â
You settle back in your seat, locking eyes with Jenna and letting the silence stretch, making her wait for your answer.
â
âNo, I'm good,â you state simply.
â
Jennaâs face pinches, and she lets out a frustrated whine. âCome on, donât make this harder,â she pleads, but thereâs no real remorse in her tone. âI know youâre mad. Iâm sorry, okay? Now, can you please leave the freak show?â
â
ââYou know, if I squint really, really hard, I think I could almost see a real apology somewhere in there,â you say, your tone light but edged with sarcasm.
â
Jenna throws her hands up, exasperated. âOh myââ she grumbles, rolling her eyes so hard itâs a wonder she doesnât pull a muscle. âWhat is your problem? Are you really this mad over one movie, youâre willing to shack it up with him?â
â
Eddie takes the insult in stride, letting it wash over him like water on a duckâs back. Chin up, let the noise drown everything out, he reminds himself.
You werenât as forgiving.
âHow did I never notice how blatantly conceited you are until now?â you say with a shake of your head, completely in disbelief with how much youâve chosen to ignore for the sake of company. âHas it ever crossed your mind the entire time weâve been here that I'm not doing this to get back at you. That Iâm here with him because I wanted to be?â
Jenna doesnât hesitate. âNo, because you wouldnât,â she answers back. Her conviction makes you laugh.
â
You lean forward, voice low, not bothering to hide the bitterness that seeps into your words or the despondency youâve pushed to the farthest depths of your mind. âHow would you know, Jenna?â
âWhatâs that supposed to mean?â Jenna challenges, daring you to admit defeat. That the two of you were never friends. That you clung on to her fabricated kindness because you were more than willing to accept whatever scrap the rulers of Hawkins Highâs social hierarchy were willing to give you.
Because you didnât want to be alone.
â
But you don't take the baitânot this time.
â
You sit back, crossing your arms with finality. âYou know damn well what it means,â you reply. For the first time, clarity washes over your thoughtsâthe realization that you donât owe her anything.
â
Jennaâs bravado falters, her voice softer now, almost pleading as she tries to salvage the situation. âIâm trying to help you out, okay,â she stammers, eyes darting to the others in the diner, âLeave with us, right now, before the entire town figures out who you are and who youâve been with,â
â
You hold your ground. Your eyes find Eddieâstill there, unwaveringâa stranger just hours ago, yet here he is, determined to keep you company, to coax a smile out of you when no one else bothered. In a town thatâs given him every reason to be wary, heâs chosen to trust you even when walking away would have been as simple as leaving you on that cold, dusty bench.
â
âIâm right where I want to be.â
Jennaâs lips press into a hard, thin line. âDonât bother talking to me tomorrow,â she spits out, the words brittle and laced with wounded pride. She turns sharply on her heel, shoulders rigid, and you hear the echo of her retreating footsteps. Her voice calls out to her boyfriend, but you donât look. Even when the bell chimes as they go through the dinerâs double doors, you keep your gaze fixed aheadâjaw clenched, hands clasped together, refusing to give her the satisfaction of seeing you stumble.
Once youâre certain sheâs gone, you let out a breath you didnât realize you were holding. Your whole body seems to collapse in on itself, your head drooping until it finds a resting place in your hands. Between you and Eddie, the abandoned scraps of food lay cold and forgotten.
â
âShit,â you hear him whisper under his breath.
â
âYeah,â you laugh, your voice devoid of humor. âShit.â
â
Noticing how defeated you look, Eddie rises from the booth. He leans over the table, gathering the basket of untouched food, then makes his way to the counter near the register. You barely register his quiet request to Joni to wrap things up, your thoughts still scattered and far away. When he returns, he doesnât take his previous seat across from you. Instead, he steps around the table and slides into the booth right beside you, close enough that his shoulder brushes yours.
â
Gently, his hands find your wrists and coax them free from your defensive posture. You let him guide your arms down, following his lead until your head settles on his shoulder, catching the uneven texture of his denim vest. His hand comes to rest at your temple, soothing your turbulent thoughts.
â
You hear him speak.
â
âI donât get it,â he admits.
â
You turn, shifting to face him more directly, your voice soft but tinged with curiosity. âGet what?â
â
Eddie exhales, gesturing toward the swinging diner doors where Jenna disappeared. âThat,â he says, the word heavy with meaning. âI mean, I admit, I never really paid attention to you before tonight,â
â
âYou have a way with words,â you interrupt.
â
âBut,â he cuts in, meeting your eyes with an earnestness that makes you falter. âThese cynical eyes of mine have seen enough to know that people should adore you. Perfect grades, perfect attitude, and all that. The way the food chain goes, you should be right at the top with them, maybe even a tier above. Everyone who wants to be someone should be hanging on to every word you say. Not driving you away the moment you donât fit perfectly into their meticulously manufactured life,â he shakes his head, voice dropping, âShe barely tried to get you back on their side.â
His words sting, not because theyâre wrong, but because they land so close to the truth. Jenna barely put in the effort with you, but what hurt more was witnessing firsthand how easily people can dispose of youâthe moment youâre no longer useful, youâre gone. The realization sits heavily in your chest, leading you to your confession.
â
âI donât have friends, Eddie,â you say, in a voice so small and vulnerable, you had a hard time believing it was yours. âIâm a convenience.â
â
You hesitate, fingers twisting together in your lap. âJenna, sheââ You pause, steadying yourself with a sharp breath, and look up at Eddie, searching his face for judgment but finding only patience. âI just started hanging out with her earlier this year. She was nice enough, you know? Sat next to me during class, invited me to partiesâŚâ
You force a faint smile, âAnd then came the favors. First it was homework, then a couple of reviewers, and after that, it just⌠escalated.â
â
Your confession shifts something in both you and Eddie. For the first time, you see the truth of it laid bareâhow much youâve pretended this was normal, how lonely youâve felt all along.
â
You swallow, voice thick. âAnd I ignored it. I kept telling myself thatâs just how it is between friends. That maybe I was lucky anyone wanted me around at all.â
â
Beside you, Eddieâs hand curls into a fist. His jaw tightens, and you can see the frustration flicker across his face.
â
âJenna, and everyone that came before her⌠they only ever listened to me because they had to. Not because they actually wanted to.â You say it quietly, the realization settling over you like a cold shadow.
Eddie sits with your words, chewing his cheek thoughtfully. After a moment, he finally asks, âThen why do you stay?â Thereâs no accusation in his tone, just honest confusion.
â
You stare at the table, searching for the right words. âBecause if I donât, then all Iâm left with is whatâs in here.â You tap your temple, giving a weak, humorless smile. âAnd itâs not always pretty.â
â
Eddieâs expression softens, and you realize he understands in a way most people never could. He knows those voicesâthe ones that take center stage in his mind, whispering self-sabotage, self-doubt, relentless criticism. Heâs battled them too.
â
Eddie recalls his words just a few hours ago.
â
If you're one of us, you're a friend.
â
When push comes to shove, I'm there for you.
â
Always.
â
So he makes it a vow.
â
âI'd stay,â he tells you. Not as a suggestion, but as a promise.
â
You blink, not sure you heard him right. âHm?â
â
Eddie mirrors your gesture, tapping your temple. âWhen it gets ugly in there,â he says softly, âIâd stay.â
â
You search his face, voice barely audible. âWhy?â
â
He doesnât hesitate. âYouâre one of us,â he says, like itâs the most obvious thing in the world.
â
You act before you can think, your body moving on instinct.
â
In a heartbeat, you wrap your arms around Eddie, holding him tightâneeding the comfort more than you ever realized.
â
It was awkward, given your position, but Eddie hugs you back, his hand gently rubbing your back, offering you the comfort you've denied yourself for so long.
â
You might have stayed in that embrace forever, if not for the sound of someone clearing their throat awkwardly nearby.
â
âI-uh, donât mean to interruptââ Joniâs voice breaks through the haze, hesitant but kind. Sheâs standing just off to the side of the booth, a plastic bag of takeout dangling from her hand. âBut weâre closing up soon.â
â
You blink, disoriented, the world rushing back in. âClosing?â you mumble, suddenly aware of the emptying diner around you.
â
You realize itâs just you, Eddie, Joni, and a few lingering staff left in the diner.
â
You slip your hand from Eddieâs back and glance at your watch.
â
âShit.â
â
Eddie frowns, confused by your sudden urgency. âWhatâs up?â
â
âCurfew,â you reply, already on your feet.
â
âWhere do you live?â Eddie asks, sliding out of the booth to let you pass. He grabs the bag from Joni as he moves.
You catch your reflection in the dark window, fixing your hair absently. âMaple Street,â you say, glancing at Eddie. âYou know it?â
â
Eddie, whoâs driven Mike Wheeler home a few times, nods. âLike the back of my hand.â
â
You nod back, already moving for the doors when something tugs at your memory, making you pause mid-step.
â
âOh!â you blurt, spinning around to face Joni, whoâs still standing nearby with a gentle, knowing smile. âHow much do I owe you for theâ?â
â
Joni waves you off with a laugh. âOn the house, honey. But only if you promise to come back for a second date.â
â
Eddie starts to protest, âItâs not aââ but you cut him off, grinning. âEasy,â you say, matching her playful tone.
â
You share a glance, grinning in sync, before heading out together.
â
âIâm usually not one for reckless driving, butââ
â
Eddie twirls his van keys around his finger, grinning at you. âSay less.â
Youâre not sure if the van wheels touched the ground once after Eddie stepped on the gas at full throttle, but you canât say youâre not grateful for Eddieâs complete disregard for traffic laws. You make it home only a couple of minutes past your curfew, giving you plausible grounds to use a delayed screening and an impromptu dinner as an excuse.
â
Technically, the second one wasnât a lie.
â
You barely register the vanâs engine dying before Eddie is already out of his seat. He rushes around the front, opening your door for the third time tonight. The gesture is so familiar now that it makes you smile.
â
You step out onto the curb, stretching your legs. The cool night air hits your face as you fall into step beside Eddie on the walk to your porch. With a grin, you nudge him playfully. âEver consider NASCAR?â
â
Eddie shoves his hands in his jacket pockets, tryingâand failingâto hide his pride. He glances at you with that crooked grin youâve grown to adore. âYou think I got a shot?â
â
âI think thereâs already a trophy with your name on it.â
â
You and Eddie reach your front door in a few quick steps. His footsteps echo on the porch, each one slower than the last, as if heâs trying to delay the inevitable goodbye. The final thud of his shoes feels heavyâfinal, somehow.
â
You turn to face him, lowering your voice so it wonât carry through the front door. âIâve reached my verdict,â you say, a teasing smile playing on your lips. âYouâre not terrible company.â
â
You catch Eddieâs fingers fidgeting nervously in his pockets. He lets out a soft chuckle, eyes darting away.
â
âNeither are you,â he whispers back.
â
You hesitate, searching his face for somethingâmaybe a reason to stay out here just a little longer, but you know itâs time. âIâll see you tomorrow,â you say, forcing yourself to step back, even though you wish the night could last forever.
â
Eddieâs smile wavers just a bit, uncertainty flickering in his eyes.
â
Tomorrow. At school. In front of every student, every clique, and walking stereotype. Youâll see him.
â
But then what?
âWill you?â Eddie blurts out, unable to hide the doubt in his voice.
â
You didnât understand the question, not immediately. You donât pick up on Eddieâs doubts. How he questions if youâre truly willing enough, brave enough, to continue standing by his side. It wasnât fair on your part to assume what youâre capable of, but unfairness has followed Eddie like a shadow his entire life. He doesnât just expect it, he welcomes it.
â
What if you pass each other in the hallway tomorrow? The thought prickles at the back of his mind, sharp and sudden.
â
When you walk on by, surrounded by dozens of probing eyes and chattering lips.
â
Will you smile at him the way you did tonight, with no shame or hesitation?
Will you call his name?
â
Or will you walk away, pretending this night meant nothing?
â
Before you can form a response, Eddie steps back, his shoulders tense. He keeps his gaze averted as he heads down your porch, retreating toward his van, each step quicker than the last.
â
âNevermind. Thatâsânever mind.â His voice is quiet, almost lost in the night air. He doesnât wait for your answer.
â
But you give it to him the very next day.
The fluorescent lights of Hawkins High cast dark shadows as he leaned against his locker, only half-listening to his friends drone on about some math test. He kept glancing up, nerves on fire, until he finally saw you walking down the crowded hallway. Two different girls from the cheer squad to your rightâ none of whom is Jennaâ and a jock on your left. For a moment, Eddieâs heart sank. Was last night actually just a fluke? Had you slipped effortlessly back into your old role, leaving everything that transpired the night before behind?
But then he really looked at you. The girl approaching him looked differentâyour eyes distant, your expression flat. Gone was the girl who smiled too widely, laughed too loudly, and sang off-key last night. Eddieâs chest tightened. It felt wrong to see you like this, like watching someone else wear your skin. With his hands into fists at his sides, Eddie fights the urge to make it right. He stayed rooted to the spot, letting that feeling remain as it is.
A feeling.
â
As you drew closer, the noise of the hallway faded into a low hum. Your head lifted, eyes scanning the crowd, then finding him. Eddie felt his breath catch, the seconds stretching impossibly long. For a split second, he wondered if youâd look away, pretend he wasnât there. But instead, something in your gaze flickered with recognition. Slowly, your lips curved into a small, genuine smile, softening the mask youâd worn moments before.
â
âHey, Eddie.â
a/n: This took a lot out of me, so I'm not really sure if I'll revisit this anytime soon. For the meantime, please assume that they lived happily ever after.
How about a David (lost boys) x female human reader one-shot where:
- she's been hanging out with them for a while (knows they're vampires and everything), and everyone else can tell she and David fancy each other, but neither has made a move (maybe because they're not sure if the other feels the same, they don't want to risk ruining their group friendship dynamic...)
- she flirts with someone on the boardwalk to make him jealous
- it works: he can't stand it, and he shows her who she belongs too (+smut if you want)
Do I Need to be Next to you all the Time?
Requests are OPEN
[possessive!David x fem!human!Reader]
[Words: 3k+]
Warnings: mentions of marijuana, language, suggestive ending, mild bloodplay, biting, David is very possessive, flirting, no use of y/n, reader wears a skirt and is more feminine but not specifically gendered, no describing of readers appearance.
A/N: I'm so excited to publish my first fanfiction even if it's really bad, thank you so much to everyone who said they wanted to see my writing! I might make a part two because anon wanted spicy but I just left it as a suggestive ending. I definitely made a lot of mistakes, please don't flame me. đĽ
My headcanon is that if you get one of the boys, you get all of them. But I definitely made this more David centered.
Almost a year ago, you had met David and the boys on the boardwalk after moving to California. You had been visiting the boardwalk alone for the first time when you met the boys in the crowd of the live concert. Your bracelet had snagged on Marko's jacket and Paul took an immediate liking to you. He and Marko took you back to their bikes to introduce you to Dwayne and David and you've been amazing friends since then.
The boys would show up at your apartment randomly in the night, take you out for bike rides, take you out for food or to the cave. It was just a casual friendship. You had learned they were vampires very early on and you had passed their test well enough that David had offered you the bottle. They were very upfront about what it would do to you. Much to their disappointment, you rejected turning, at least for now. You weren't completely ready to give up a normal human life. They were understanding and didn't push it, but made it clear that the offer would always be available.
And now, about seven months after meeting them, you had begun to adjust to their schedule. You had gotten a job at a diner on the boardwalk, close to Max's video store. You worked the nightshift and the boys would come in almost every shift, now claiming the diner as their favorite place to eat. Your coworkers gave you sideways glances, but said nothing. Though you could tell they were judging you for bringing troublemakers in with you.
When you'd pass they boys' table they sat at, Paul would tug on your skirt or Marko would catcall you in a light, playful way which you enjoyed. You didn't mind the teasing, especially since they made it clear they would stop if you were ever uncomfortable. Despite being blood-sucking vampires, they had morals.
You had begun developing feelings for David and that made you extremely nervous. You felt that the friendship was already good enough and you didn't want to make things uncomfortable by admitting you had feelings for the eldest vampire. You also had no clue what David felt for you. Dwayne was the first one to notice your behavior. Since he usually sat back and observed, he was able to recognize the slightest red on your cheeks when talking to David. Due to the heightened hearing of vampires, he also noticed your heart racing and your breathing being the slightest bit more shallow every time David was around.
Marko was next to notice. He had been poking fun at you because he asked if you had been seeing anyone and you said no. He started showing up behind you and asking when you were going to tell David about your feelings, which earned playful swats at him.
Paul was the last to notice, obviously. Actually, he didn't even notice, Marko had to tell him, followed by Dwayne immediately smacking a hand over his mouth so he wouldn't start talking loudly about how cute you two would be together. Thankfully, David hadn't heard that exchange. Paul probably already knew before being told, something in his intuition just knew, but he was too high to care most of the time.
One night, the boys had come in to eat while you were working the late shift, sitting in their regular booth. The diner was slow, the dinner rush having long passed as it was nearing ten o'clock. There were a few people sitting at the counter and a few more in booths, but it was quiet. The boys were in to eat breakfast. Paul teased you by commenting about how short your skirt was, then reached out to pinch your thigh. You laughed and turned away as your cheeks went red. You looked away too soon to see the look David gave Paul.
The door bell jingled and you turned your attention up from the cash register. Two girls, one blonde and one brunette, had entered the diner. They looked like they just got done having drinks, lipstick slightly smeared and they were wobbly on their heels. You had returned behind the counter, giving the boys' order to the kitchen before you turned to look at the women who had just entered.
"Hi ladies! Welcome in, have a seat wherever!" You spoke cheerfully to the women, just as you always did you any customer. The girls barely gave you a sideways glance and nod. They looked around the mostly empty diner before their eyes locked on the boys sitting in the booth. The two women wandered over to the table and the blonde put her hand on the table.
"Hey handsomes~ You guys need some company?" The blonde girl asked as the brunette had a hand on her hip. The brunette adjusted her bra straps and smirked as Paul put his hand behind his head and David leaned forward with a sly grin. You knew that grin, he was entertaining this interaction.
David started flirting back with the blonde as Paul and Marko seemed to entertain the brunette. Dwayne was sitting this one out and staying quiet despite the blondes attempts to rope him into the conversation.
The girls eventually swayed the boys enough to let them sit down on the plush leather booths. David put his arm around the blonde's shoulders while Marko had the brunette sitting on his knee, giggling and flirting with him. You were silently pissed. You couldn't help yourself. David's arm around the girl's shoulders made your heart sink in your chest.
Despite the jealousy boiling inside you, you didn't say a thing. You served their food with a bright smile on your face, but they could tell something was wrong. They could always notice the slightest change in behavior. After about 20 minutes, the girls finally decided it was time for them to leave and go home, which you let out a silent sigh of relief to. You were silently grateful that they hadn't been rude or pushy in their intoxicated state.
The door shut behind them but you didn't give the boys a second glance as you were back at the register, counting out your money for the night with your manager. The boys were already making mental notes to have those girls as a real meal later. You could feel eyes on you, but you didn't look, focusing on chatting with your boss and silently pleading for him to let you leave already. Once your manager finally said you could leave, you were visibly relieved. You were in the back grabbing your purse and jacket as the boys paid for their dinner (breakfast).
You came back to the front and the boys were already waiting for you. Dwayne put an arm on your shoulders as you all left the dinner, talking and laughing, but you were definitely quieter than normal. David could definitely notice. You wandered through Max's video store until he told the boys to leave, then a comic book shop, and finally stopped to look at some leather jackets for sale. That's when David spoke up.
"Hey, we're off to go get some... Real food. We'll come get you soon when we're done." He said, his lips curled around a cigarette.
"Alright. Did you guys park in your normal spots?" You asked. Dwayne gave a nod and they all seemed to agree. When they went out for a hunt, you usually waited at their bikes or would check out the live show. The boys took their leave, quickly wandering off into the crowd. David lingered for a moment, eyeing you, before following the rest of the boys.
You wandered up and down the boardwalk, stopping at the band playing live for a few minutes. You stood at the back of the crowd, immediately noticing Paul had found his meal. He was entertaining the brunette from earlier in the diner, his hand on her hips roughly as they danced among everyone in the crowd. You decided you didn't want to stick around to see them leave together.
You walked back up the boardwalk, a little closer to the entrance, and you stopped at a jewelry vendor. There were rings behind glass, bracelets and necklaces out on display on racks. You stopped, looking at the necklaces before one specifically caught your eye. That's when the vendor noticed your presence. He stepped up to you, leaning on the display table in front of you.
"Hey there, anything catch your eye? I know you surely caught mine." He said in a rather sleazy tone of voice. He had no shame in flirting with you, and you liked the forward, no games approach. You smirked, still examining one necklace in particular.
"Well, this necklace looks nice. Do you make these by hand?" You asked with a smile as you picked a necklace off the display stand. The necklace was silver with red rubies to decorate. It was a long necklace too, something that would hang very far down your chest. You showed the necklace to the vendor.
"Yup, all handmade by me and the boss. Those rubies are damn near priceless, and we finally made a good enough necklace to put them in." Surprisingly, he didn't sound like he was trying to sell you something, he was just excited to share details about the necklace. You followed his lead and leaned against the display table in front of him so you were closer to him. He took the necklace from your hand, examining it slowly before handing it back to you.
"Those would normally cost a pretty penny, but for you? Fifteen. And perhaps a date with me tomorrow night?" He smiled and cocked an eyebrow as your cheeks flushed and you were obviously a little thrown by the request. You're heart skipped in your chest as you thought about it. You really liked David, you really did, but he obviously wasn't interested. If he was, you couldn't believe it was exclusive to you with how he acted earlier in the diner. Finally, you nodded slightly.
The vendors face lit up and he slid his hand towards yours, about to try and take it. You opened your mouth to give a formal agreement when leather covered fingers wrapped around your wrist and you were tugged backwards. You dropped the necklace on the counter, gasping as you were so suddenly moved. The vendor straightened up and his face went very pale, eyes wide with surprise and possibly a bit of fear. You snapped your head around quickly to see who grabbed you.
Cold blue eyes stared back at you, his hand still firmly around yours that the vendor had just about taken. David looked furious, but in a terrifyingly calm way. His brows were furrow, his chest puffed and his grip menacing, but he still looked like David. You anxiously swapped your gaze quickly between the two men, feeling a nervous sweat starting to break on your spine.
However, without confrontation, the vendor mumbled an apology as he backed up from the counter, looking sheepish. He then turned on his heels and disappeared behind a curtain, mumbling something about restocking and something about David. Obviously this wasn't the first time the two men had met. You turned your attention to David again, opening your mouth to complain, but nothing came out. He started pulling you away when you were finally able to blurt.
"Hey wait! I wanted that necklace!"
David paused, then turned back to you. He glanced at the now unoccupied jewelry stall. David let go of your wrist to step up to the counter where he snatched the necklace off of the table, not bothering to leave any payment as he held it in his fist. His hand that was once on your wrist now fell firm on your lower back as he pulled you back into the crowd with surprising determination. You huffed, taking the necklace from his hand and then elbowing him in the side. You weren't trying to hurt him, it was just playful.
"What's your issue?" You asked, sliding the necklace into your pocket to take home. You'd probably give it to Marko to disassemble the rubies and make it into something prettier.
"He seemed really nice, you know? You're acting like a jealous girlfriend right now." You smiled, your voice laced with playfulness despite the very real complaints. You had thought the man was nice, so why was David dragging you away? Although, you couldn't help your cheeks turning red and your skin feeling prickly under his touch.
His leather gloves hand stayed firm and unmoving, pushing you along down the boardwalk without so much as a glance at you. You quieted down, realizing that David wasn't exactly in a playful mood at the moment. He looked severely pissed off, a scowl clear on his expression. Your smile dropped as you followed the guide of David's hand on your back towards where the motorcycles were parked.
You leaned against David's bike, ready to hop onto the backseat, when David suddenly had his hands on either side of your waist, boxing you in against the bike. His cold, blue eyes bore into yours like he was looking directly into your soul. You let out a gasp as David pressed against you. This was the most he had ever touched you. Usually he was very hands off, but something was different now. Your cheeks turned a deep shade of blush and you could have sworn his pale skin reddened just a little bit.
"Do I need to be next to you all the time?" He asked in a surprisingly serious voice, even for him.
"David? What are you doing?" You asked with a slightly trembling voice, but you tried to not let your nerves get the best of you. This was the closest he had ever been to you, and you weren't trying to ruin the moment.
"You're really testing my patience. I don't want to see you flirting with anyone ever again, got it?" His voice was more husky than normal as he leaned into your ear. His breath ghosted over your skin and his hands tightened on your waist where your shirt tucked into your skirt. Your mind was in a whirlwind as David's words began to sink in.
"David, wha... What are you talking about?" You asked, almost trying to act innocent despite knowing very well what his tone of voice and actions were leading to. David was weird. If you pointed out something he was doing, he would stop. So you were feigning innocence.
"Baby, don't make me spell it out for you... You know I want you."
Your heart stuttered in your chest at David's words and your stomach flipped. Your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, absolutely shocked that he would say something like that.
"w-wha.. is... Is that what you pulled me away from there? Because he was..."
"He was about to touch you, I don't like others touching you because I don't like it when someone else touches what's mine."
"What about the other boys?" You asked, remembering how Paul would sometimes playfully groap you, or how Dwayne liked dancing with you in his arms, or how Marko loved you sitting in his lap so he could do your hair. That never triggered David?
"They're different. They're my pack. But I'll be damned if I let some random asshole take you on a date." David's nose gently brushed your skin as he leaned into your ear. His lips brushed the shell of your ear before his head lowered towards your neck. You felt a shiver run through you as heat pooled in your stomach. David was never one for public affection, at least you didn't think he would be, until now. He paused, waiting to feel or hear your reaction to him.
Your hands slowly rested on his chest, showing that you were reciprocating the advancements and affection. His fangs slowly pushed their way forward from his gums and he let them graze your skin. You flinched slightly at the sharp feeling on your neck, but quickly relaxed. He paused again, giving you a full moment to catch your breath, an opportunity to decide. He waited for you to pull away, but instead, he got a quiet whisper.
"Do it."
Those two words were enough to break his resolve. David had one hand on your hip, one on the back of your head as his fangs sank into your neck. They pierced deep, blood immediately filling his senses. You winced and David tightened his hand on you until the initial pain passed. David took long, deep draws of your blood as you gripped his jacket tightly in your fists. Only when you started to feel lightheaded did he pull away. He rubbed his thumb over the mark, quickly wiping away remaining blood. At a glance, it looked like a regular hickey. You gasped for breath as David held you against his chest.
"You're mine. Got that? You don't belong to anyone else except me." His whispered against your ear before he gently tilted your chin up. Your lips locked with his in a passionate kiss, tasting the metallic remnants of your blood on his tongue. This was everything you had ever wanted. He pressed you more firmly back against his motorcycle, pulling away from your lips like he was forcing himself away from his favorite drug.
"Get on." He commanded and you quickly turned and jumped onto the backseat of his motorcycle. He nudged your cheek once more before he climbed onto the bike as well and started the engine. Your fingers found his waist, already holding on tight. David smirked.
"You are all mine. I'm going to make sure you know that tonight."
ęąá´á´á´á´ĘĘ : after the graduation ceremony, you and the party decide to go to stacey's party. when someone's elbow sends spiked punch all over your outfit, dustin offers to help clean you up in the upstairs bathroom. too bad he's just as determined to leave his own marks behindâdarker, deeper, and way more intentional.
á´á´Ą / á´á´É˘ęą : hickeys, underage dr*nking & smoking , intense kissing , making out
ɢá´É´Ęá´ : fluff !!
á´Ąá´Ęá´ á´É´á´ : 4.5k (sorry)
É´á´á´á´ęą : i had to repost this because for some reason it got completely shadow banned.. sorry ! this fic is kind of long but i had a really fun time thickening the plot.
ââââŕ¨ŕ§ââââ
Itâs finally graduation.
â
So many yearsâ gone just like that.
â
So much struggle, so much pain and suffering, and itâs finally come to a stop.
â
Hawkins has finally found its peace.
â
And of course, it's your time too.
â
You sit next to Max in the audience of the graduation ceremony, students around you chattering away. That is, until a voice on the speakers interrupts everyone. Itâs Principal Higgins.
â
âAnd now itâs my great pleasure to introduce someone who has truly excelled during their time here. Ladies and gentlemen, give a warm welcome to your valedictorian, Dustin Henderson.â
â
You and Max catch each other's eyes, smiling before looking back at the stage where Dustin appears. Everyone is clappingâ you harder than anyone.
â
Dustin clears his throat. âI just wanted a normal childhood. But that childhood was stolen from me. It was stolen from us.â
â
Dustin scans the audience, eyeing Max, Lucas, Will, Mike, and you. Your mind flashes with the vivid imagery from the Upside Downâ and Vecna, whoâs finally found his demise.
â
âAnd this past year, if you wanna know the truth, Iâve been pretty pissed off about it.â Dustin continues.
â
You and Max scoff at each other with a laugh.
â
âBut then I thought back to the past six years, and I realized that, even though there was a lot of bad, there was so much good too.â His eyes catch yours in the audience, causing your lips to curl up.
â
He was right. There was so much good. So much good people didnât even know about. Bob. Eddie. Jane. So many stories left untold.
â
As Dustin continues, you catch yourself drifting from his speech and focusing on his appearance. The way his brunette curls catch the late afternoon light streaming through the clouds. How they swoop down onto his forehead in that effortlessly tousled wayânot messy, just... Dustin. A few strands bounce slightly as he gestures with his hands, emphasizing whatever point he's making that you're definitely not absorbing.
His warm smile breaks across his face like a sunrise, making the audience laugh so effortlessly. The corners of his eyes crinkle, that telltale sign of a real Dustin smile.
"You're not even listening, are you?" Max's whisper cuts through your daydream, barely audible over the sound of Dustin's voice echoing through the microphone.
You blink, "I'm listening."
"Uh-huh." You can hear the smirk in her voice without even looking at her. "You've been staring a little too intently for the pastâ minute!â
"I have notâ"
"Bullshit! You have the same look Steve gets when he checks out girls at the Radio Shack," Max continues, clearly enjoying this. "Except, you know, directed at Henderson."
You finally tear your gaze away from Dustin to shoot her a look, but she's already facing forward again, arms crossed, the corner of her mouth twitching with barely suppressed amusement. You try to redirect your attention to what Dustin is actually sayingâsomething about belonging and bondsâbut then his eyes twitch towards your direction, and you're gone again.
It was so perfect. So him. The way he stood up there, not trying to be anyone else, not dimming his intelligence or his enthusiasm to fit in the way he used to in middle school. Just Dustin, unapologetically brilliant and passionate.
"Oh, you've got it bad," Max mutters.
You shoot Max another look, âI do not!â
Dustinâs raised voice attracts your attention back to him,âBecause thisâ this is our year!â he shouts. His graduation uniform is torn off, exposing his âHellfire Livesâ shirt. Everyone is clappingâ from nerds to jocksâ everyone. He drops the mic, finalizing it with a middle finger towards Higgins.
â
Max gawks, âHoly shit!â
â
âDid he actually just do thatâ?â you say in awe, with your mouth slightly ajar in surprise.
â
You and Max stand up, clapping together vigorously, shouting swift âwooâsâ at him. You watch him walk off the stage, his eyes finding yours once again, smiling at you with that Dustin smile. He gave you a small wave, which you promptly responded to with a thumbs up. Max rolled her eyes at you both, but didnât bother to say anything this time.
â
Within a few minutes, the crowd's commotion has died down, people making their way to their people. You and the party run up to Dustin, giving him a group hug.
â
âYouâre a madmanâ an absolute madman!â Mike says.
â
Lucas laughs, âHiggins totally shit his pants.â
â
âWhatâs he gonna do, expel me?â
â
Everyoneâs laughing together until a girlâs voice interrupts, âHey.â
â
You, Max, and the three boys snap your heads at her. Itâsâ Stacey?
â
âI just wanna say what you did up there was pretty badass.â
Stacey continues, âYeah. Yeahâ no problem.â Thereâs an awkward pool of silence. âSoâ uh, I just wanted to say that Iâm having a party later tonight. You guys should come.â
â
She walks off without a response. You all stand there in awe.
â
âDid she seriously justâ invite us? To her party?â You say softly.
â
Will laughs, âWell, do we go?â
âOf-fucking-course we do!â Dustin exclaims.
â
â-----
â
Hours later, you and Max arrive at the scene. You both stroll up the sidewalk thatâs littered with empty beer cans. A few drunken teenagers lay asleep on the porchâ except for one who made it to the grass. The house is covered with toilet paper as if they were pranked, whilst music blasts through the windows. All sorts of cheers and screams echo throughout the neighborhood from this single house.
â
And this house is giganticâa mansion, even. Large enough that you just know Hawkins' main crime sources start here: illegal substances, underage drinking. At the sight of it, Max resigns herself to being tonight's designated driver.
â
You both know you shouldnât be hereâ and frankly don't want to beâ but, yet, here you are.
â
âRight. Too late to go back?â Max asks.
â
You glance at her, your hands resting in your jean jacket. âCâmon, just a few hours. Itâll be over before you know it.â
â
She groans. âGod, youâre so lucky Iâm a decent person.â
â
âNo, you just love us.â You start down the sidewalk, your knee-high boots clacking against the cement. âCâmonâ theyâre probably waiting for us!â
â
Max rolls her eyes before catching up with you.
â
You both stand at the front door, peering through the windows, and you notice teenagers crowding nearly every room. The music was much louder up close than how it sounded on the front lawnâ it was practically breaking down the wooden walls.
â
You lay a firm knock against the door.
â
No response.
â
You glance at Max, and she responds with a shrug.
â
This time you take the handle, turning it before pushing in. The door swings open, and immediately you're hit with a wall of sound and heat. You swallow nervously, exchanging a glance with Max before stepping inside. She follows close behind, and the door shuts, sealing you both into the chaos.
â
The air is thick and humid, reeking of spilled beer, cigarette smoke, and overapplied hairspray. A girl with teased blonde hair and neon eyeshadow nearly spills her beer on your shoes, giggling an apology you can barely hear over the music. Someone's shoulder knocks into Max, and she steadies you with a hand on your back as you push forward through the crush of dancing, swaying bodies. Meanwhile, couples are draped over the couch and love seats, making out without any awareness ofâor care forâtheir surroundings.
â
You edge toward the kitchen, hoping for a quieter space, but it's just as chaotic in a different way. A group has gathered around the kitchen table, shouting and cheering as someone chugs from a red Solo cupâprobably playing quarters or some variation of beer pong. There's a spiked punch bowl on the kitchen island, and you help yourself to a full cup. Trying to ease your nerves, you chug the drink down in the same minute you get it. The alcohol burns your throat, making your head buzz. It's definitely over-spiked. Careless, you follow another spoonful to your now-empty cup.
â
As you leave the kitchen, you notice that everywhere you look, there's too much. Too many people crammed into too small a space. Too much noise. Too many things happening at onceâdancing, drinking, fighting, flirting, all bleeding together into one overwhelming sensory assault. You take another nervous swallow of your drink.
â
Thatâs until you catch the back of Dustin's head with your eyes, his curls bouncing to the beat. Your eyes widenâ sparkle, even. Itâs a surprise that you noticed him with all the chaos around. Max doesnât seem to notice, though, so you grab her by her wrist and start pulling her towards the living room.
â
âY/Nâwait!â Max hisses.
â
You and Max push through the crowd, your grip tight on her wrist as you navigate the chaos. Shoulders knock into yours as people dance, oblivious. The air reeks of beer and too much body spray, thick enough to taste. When you swear you hear Dustin's distinct laugh cutting through the bass-heavy music, you speed up, pulling Max faster through the mass of bodies.
â
Slam!
â
As you collide with someone's elbow, your drink jerks in your hand, splashing the red punch across your chest and jean mini skirt. You gasp, hands flying up, as the sticky liquid soaks through the denim and drips down your neck.
â
Max looks over your shoulder. âOhâ shit.â
â
âFuckâ sorry, little lady. Didnât see you there.â The guy looks down at the red splatter on your chest.
â
You glare at the nickname he gave you, âItâs fine. I was the one in a rush.â
â
Your eyes flicker down at your now ruined outfit. The outfit Dustin didnât even get to see clean. Great. You clench your jaw in anger, taking a breath in. You look back at Max, giving her a half-assed smile.
â
âCâmon. Letâs go.â You spit out.
â
âDonât you want to get cleaned upâ?â Max shouts out to you, âY/N!â
â
Max hurries between the people. âY/Nââ
âItâs fine.â You snap back at her.
â
Maxâs eyebrows raise, âJeez, okay.â
â
You don't look back, forcing yourself through openings between people. You and Max finally break through to the other side, where she immediately spots what your rush was about.
â
Lucas, Will, Mike, and Dustin have claimed their own cornerâMike and Will passing a joint between them, glassy-eyed and giggly, while Dustin and Lucas sway slightly to the music, deep in conversation.
â
"There they are," Max mutters, but you're already moving forward.
â
"Hey!" you call out over the music.
â
Dustin's head snaps up firstâyour voice has always been distinct to him. His face breaks into that warm, genuine smile. "Y/N! Max!" He has to raise his voice to be heard. "I was starting to think you guys bailed."
â
You and Max close the distance. Lucas immediately pulls Max into a hug, swaying with her slightly. Mike and Will glance over with delayed, hazy smiles, but don't move from their spot against the wall.
â
"Sorry, we couldnât find you guys," you say, which isn't entirely a lie.
â
Dustin's eyes do a quick sweepânot subtle, but not creepy either. His smile softens. "You look really nice."
â
There's a beat. His eyes widen slightly, like his brain just caught up with his mouth.
â
"I meanâ" He clears his throat, louder than necessary. "It's nice to see you. You lookâ I said that already." He covers his mouth with his hand, looking anywhere but directly at you. "It's. Nice. Yeah."
â
You can feel the warmth in your cheeksâwhether from the alcohol or his flustered rambling, you're not sure. "Thanks, Dustin." You grin. "Nice to see you too."
â
"That wasâ" He pauses, "Sorry, that came out weird."
â
"You're fine," you laugh, stepping a little closer so he can hear you better. "Really."
â
Dustin finally meets your eyes again, and there's something in his expressionâsoft, maybe a little hopeful. Then his gaze drifts down briefly, and his brow furrows. "Wait, what happened?" He gestures vaguely toward your torso.
â
You glance down at the red stain spreading across your skirt and jacket, having almost forgotten about it in the chaos. "Oh. Yeah. Some guy's elbow and a cup of punch had a disagreement with my outfit."
â
Dustin winces sympathetically. "Shit, that sucks. Do you wantâI think there's a bathroom upstairs if you want to try and clean it up? I can show youâ" He pauses, suddenly looking uncertain. "Or, I mean, Max probably knows where it is. I don't want to, like, assume you need help orâ"
â
"Dustin." You touch his arm lightly, and he stops mid-sentence. "Breathe."
â
Dustin lets out a short laugh. "Right. Breathing. Uhumâ I can do that." After a brief sigh, he continues, âCan I show you where itâs at? The bathroom, that is. Iâll help you get it outâ if thatâs even possible.â
â
You shoot him a warm smile. Thatâs the exact response you wanted. âYeah. Iâd like that. I really love this skirt, anyways. Itâd suck for it to stay stained.â
â
Dustin nods, his smile a little shaky. âYeah. Yeahâno. Totally.â He pauses, âShall we?â
â
"Justâ give me one second." You glance back toward Max. "Gotta tell her so she doesn't think I ditched."
â
"Right, yeah. Of course." Dustin nods, shoving his hands in his pockets.
â
You turn away, exhaling a breath you didn't realize you were holding. A few steps later, you're beside Max and Lucas. You catch Will and Mike's attention long enough to give them a small waveâthey return it lazilyâbefore turning to Max. You tilt your head toward Dustin.
â
Max's eyes widen. Realization hits instantly, and she lets out a knowing scoff, nodding with clear approval.
â
Lucas watches the silent exchange, squinting between you two. "Whatâ"
â
Before he can finish, you pluck the cup from his hand and down the rest of his punch in one go. Liquid courage.
â
You hand the empty cup back and mouth âthank youâ to Max as you step away. She gives you a subtle thumbs-up.
â
When you return to Dustin, he's right where you left him, rocking slightly on his heels. He doesn't say anything at first, just offers a small smile. Then, almost hesitantly, his hand finds yours, and he gently leads you back through the crowd toward the stairs.
â
The staircase is tucked near the front doorâyou'd missed it earlier, too distracted by everything else. Dustin leads the way up, and you follow close behind, steadying yourself with one hand on the railing.
â
At the top, the music softens. Still loud, but muffled nowâmore of a low buzz thrumming through the walls. It's easier to breathe up here.
â
Dustin doesn't pause to let you take it in. He's already moving down the hall, weaving past a couple leaning against the wall, and stops in front of a door. He knocks firmly. "Heyâuh, anyone in there?"
â
Silence.
â
He glances back at you, shrugs, and pushes the door open.
â
A girl is pushed against her boyfriend, holding her still as their lips crash against each other. They are very occupied.
â
Dustin slams the door shut so fast it rattles in the frame. His face flushes instantly, pink creeping up his neck. He turns to you with a pained, sarcastic smile. "Cool. Great. Love that for us."
â
You press a hand over your mouth, trying and failing to stifle your laughter.
â
"Don'tâ" He points at you half-heartedly, but he's smiling now too, shaking his head. "Come on. There's another one."
â
He leads you to the opposite end of the hall. This side of the house is quieterâa few people still linger, talking in low voices. Thereâs no chaos. No crushed cups, no sticky floors. Just dim lighting and the distant thrum of music.
â
Dustin stops in front of another door and knocks again, more cautiously this time. He waits a beat, then two.
â
Nothing.
â
He exhales in relief and pushes it open, holding the door for you. "After you."
â
It's surprisingly cleanâand nice. The counter is white marble with gold-flecked veining, paired with floral wallpaper that screams expensive taste. A large mirror with Hollywood-style bulbs frames the sink, and there's even a wicker basket in the corner filled with rolled hand towels, like this is a spa and not some teenager's house party.
â
âI wish my bathroom looked this nice.â Dustin scoffs.
â
You nod, âI hate rich people.â
â
The door clicks softly behind you as Dustin steps in after you. While you're still taking in the room, he's already movingâplucking one of the rolled hand towels from the wicker basket and heading to the sink.
â
âDid you know that itâs better to use cold water to get stains out?â He turns the faucet on, holding the towel under the stream. âWarm water actually sets them into the fabric. Makes it way harder to get out."
â
âI did not.â You lean against the counter next to him, watching the white terry cloth darken as it absorbs water. "Good thing I've got you here, huh?"
â
He glances over, a soft chuckle escaping as he wrings out the excess water. He holds up the damp towel, hesitating. "Can I...?"
â
"Mmâyeah, go ahead." The words blur together slightly; he doesnât seem to notice.
â
Dustin kneels in front of you, hesitant at first. Then, carefully, he presses the towel to your skirt where the punch stain spreads across the denim. He works in small, gentle circles, his brow furrowing in concentration as he blots at the red splotch.
You hadn't expected him to be so focused. So careful.
â
Unknowingly, you admire him from above. You trace his curls with your eyes, smiling when your eyes reach his face. The slope of his nose, the curve of his mouthâand you realize you're staring without meaning to.
â
But he doesnât notice. Again. Heâs too focused on saving your skirt.
â
Dustin's free hand comes to rest on the back of your thighâsteadying you as he works into the fabric. The touch is light, almost careful, but it makes your breath catch. His hand is warm, his palm broad and solid against your leg. You'd felt those same hands beforeâjust minutes ago when he led you through the crowdâbut this feels different. More deliberate. His fingers press gently into your thigh for leverage, and the pressure sends a shiver up your spine that has nothing to do with the cold water on the towel.
â
Suddenly, you focus too hard on.. everything. Dustinâs steady breathing. The way his thumb shifts slightly as he adjusts his grip. How close he is to you. How his light eyes are fixated on you.
â
Dustin pulls the towel away, startling you from your daze. His hand leaves the back of your leg soon after, the warmth lingering on your skin. The towel is stained a light pink, and your skirt has a less obvious red stain. Dustin stands up, his eyes catching yours. âThereâ thatâsâ thatâs better.â
â
You smile, gazing into his eyes. âThanks.â
â
A smile tugs at his lips, almost as if heâs trying to fight it. âOf course.â
â
You glance down at his lips for a millisecond too long, which Dustin notices. He clears his throat, âRight. Should we start on your jacket now?â
â
Your heart drops. Shit.
â
âUhumâ yeah.â You stutter nervously.
â
Dustin runs the cloth under the water again, watching the runoff fade into a light pink. After wringing it out a second time, he standsâcloser now than he was a moment agoâand his eyes flick from the stain on your jacket to your face. His hands hover uncertainly near your chest, the damp towel clutched between his fingers.
â
âIsâ is this okay?â His voice comes out shallow. Â
â
"Yeah," you manage, though it comes out more breathless than you intended.
â
He nods, not quite meeting your eyes, and presses the towel gently against your chestâright over your heart. The cool dampness isnât enough to distract you from how close Dustin is to your face. He works in those same careful circles, concentrating as hard as he can. But there's something different now. A tension in his shoulders. The way his jaw clenches slightly. His hand moves slowlyâalmost too slowlyâlike he's nervous to make any sort of contact.
â
Your eyes drift down to his lips without permission. They're parted slightly as he focuses, and you wonder absently if he realizes he's holding his breath too. Although you're certain he can feel it beneath his palm, your heartbeat gives you away completely.
â
Dustin's hand stills for just a fraction of a second. His eyes flick up to yours.
â
âI thinkâitâs..â He pauses, swallowing nervously. âItâsâ the best it can get..now..â Dustin drops the towel from your chest, but doesnât step back.
â
Neither do you.
â
His gaze drops to your lips, but it happens so fast you can't be sure. When his eyes meet yours again, there's a question in them. Hesitation and want tangled together.
â
Dustin tosses the towel into the sink without breaking eye contact. Somehow, he steps closer than beforeâand his hand rises, hovering uncertainly near your neck. His fingers twitch, like he's fighting whether to touch you or pull away. Nonetheless, he tilts his head with parted lips.
â
Your gaze drops to his lips again, lingering this time.
â
That's all it takes.
â
Dustin closes the gap fast. His lips crash against yours, hungry for your taste. He takes your lips in between his, savoring the faint taste of alcohol. His hand rests against your neck, as the other grabs ahold of your waist, bringing you closer. You arch against his body, your hands finding places to be.
â
Your breath is hot against his face, making him dizzy. But he doesnât mind; in fact, he loves it. He softly pries your jaw open with his thumb, parting your mouth just enough for his tongue to tease. Dustin slides it along the bottom of your lip, desperate for entry. When you open just enough, his tongue finds yours. Youâre careful not to bump your teeth into his braces.
â
Dustinâs tongue is careful against yours, the warmth sending a shiver through your body. You breathe out shakily through your nostrils against Dustinâs face, making his heart jump. His grasp deepens around you, his forearm reaching around your waist.
â
His tongue battles with yours, the kiss becoming more intense as he gets more frustrated. For a while, itâs just tongues against tongues, lips against lips.
â
Dustin pulls away for a moment, his forehead resting on yours. His breath is shaky and hot against yours, the heat between making you lightheaded. You canât tell if it's the alcohol or the kissing making you feel this way.
â
His lips find yours again, still wet and hot from before. Dustin tilts his face back and forth to match your pace, deepening the kiss. A dribble of saliva drops from your lip, but you donât care enough to swipe it away.
â
Dustin's hands explore your body, feeling over your curves. And for a moment, they graze over your ass, making you mumble into the kiss. He smiles against your lips, as his hands shift around your waist again.
â
Without warning, Dustin lifts you up from your waist and perches you on top of the counter. You yelp into the kiss, but of course, he doesnât pull away. He steps between your legs, closing any remaining distance, and suddenly you're eye-level with him, your thighs bracketing his hips.
â
His hands slide from your waist to your thighs, thumbs pressing softly into your hip bone. Your fingers find their way into his hair, tangling in those curls you'd been admiring all night. When his tongue traces your bottom lip yet again, you don't hesitate. You open for him, and the kiss transforms into something more messy than before.
â
His hand moves up to cup your jaw, tilting your head to get a better angle, and you can feel him tremblingâor maybe that's you. The way he kisses you is all-consuming, like he's been thinking about this for longer than just tonight. Like he's making up for lost time.
â
Dustin pulls back, catching his breath.
â
You stare into his eyes for a moment, your chest rising and falling heavily.
â
Dustin's eyes wander down towards your neck, his eyebrows raising. âLooks like we forgot a spot.â
â
Youâre confused until Dustin begins kissing your jaw, trailing his warm, wet lips down your neck. Confusion melts away as your heart hammers against your chest, begging to be with his. Dustin hums against your flustered skin, sending a shiver down your body.
â
âMh, Yeah. Looks like we missed a lot.â He mutters between kisses.
â
Dustin begins nipping softly at the plush flesh on your neck, leaving small marks. Trailing down towards your collarbone, his lips part to allow his tongue free. As Dustin licks along your chest, you release a small breath.
â
âWhâwhatâre you doingâ!â Your voice hitches, your hands resting on top of his shoulders.
â
âCleaning you upââ The vibration of his voice shoots down your neck.
â
Dustin begins sucking at the tight flesh of your collarbone, licking up all of the dried punch that was splashed there before. He drags his tongue along the stained areas of your skin, cleaning it from the red spiked punch. Its cherry taste is sour from the additional alcohol, and Dustin doesnât mind that his first drink is coming from your skin.
â
Dustin's lips leave your collarbone and instead trail back to your neck. He finds your pulse point, he pauses, then presses an open-mouthed kiss there that makes your breath hitch. He sucks at the skin, hard enough to leave a markâand he does, you can feel it, the sting and heat of a bruise forming.
â
He moves lower, teeth scraping lightly before biting down gently, and you can't stop the quiet sound that escapes you. That seems to be exactly what he wanted to hear, because he does it again. And again. Marking you deliberately, painting your neck in shades of red and purple.
â
Every noise you make spurs him on.
â
Dustin abandons your neck, finding your lips again, until a sharp knock rattles the door beside you.
â
You both shoot each other a look.
â
âShitâ
â
ââââŕ¨ŕ§ââââ
É´á´á´á´ęą : hope you enjoyed !! again, sorry for the double upload. i just didn't want this one to go overlooked as i spent a lot of time on it. hope you enjoyed <3
gentle reminder that my requests are open , but that doesn't guarantee that i'll do yours (sorry !!) thought i'd mention that i don't do masc!readers -- only because it's not my expertise.. hope you understand :(
I feel so insane about ai. I've had face-to-face conversations with people who use it for therapy, who use it to calculate the safety of pill interactions, who use it for all their emails and grant applications and legal documents and academic papers and finance sheets and for every single question they have about the world, and if you tell them about the ecological costs they just laugh and say "I guess I've used a lot of water." and I've been in multiple gatherings of 10+ people where I'm THE ONLY PERSON who doesn't use chatgpt. it's turning me into a ranting raving pariah, because how don't you people see??? why don't you understand??????? this bullshit didn't exist five years ago, you absolutely do not need it, and it is destroying everything
a/n this is a repost from my previous post/request answer bc i want people to see it and get their attention asap bc this is the longest and best fic ive ever written
trash sequel
The mist of the Hallelujah Mountains did not just cling to the rocks; it breathed. It was the living respiration of Pandora, a swirling, ethereal ocean of white that separated the grounded world from the kingdom of the clouds. For a daughter of the Kekunan, this vertiginous world was the only one that made sense. To the forest clans, the "edge" was a place of danger. To you, the edge was where life truly began.
You were born to the sky, a child of the clan that first taught the Na'vi how to touch the heavens. While the Omatikaya were rooted in the deep shadows of the jungle, your people were the bright sparks of defiance against gravity. You were clothed in the colors of the sunriseâboisterous, screaming shades of crimson, saffron, and violet that mirrored the plumage of the mountain banshees.
As the daughter of the Oloâeyktan and tsakarem, your life was a tapestry of duty. You were expected to be the swiftest, the bravest, and the most composed, embodying the legend of Taronyu, the first rider. But today, the heavy mantle of being a chieftainâs child had been set aside. Today, you were simply a creature of the wind.
You were alone with Niâmuna, your ikran. She was a magnificent beast of fire and blood-orange, her wings dappled with patterns that looked like cooling lava. You had spent the morning painting yourself to match her, dragging fingers dipped in thick orange clay across your sapphire skin, creating bold, aggressive streaks that trailed down your arms and thighs. It was a tribute to her, a sign of the tsaheylu, that she was youâ and you her.
High above the tree line, where the air grew thin and cold enough to bite, you sat tall in your saddle. You wore a thin, feathered topâa vibrant, daring red that fluttered violently in the wind, the feathers plucked from the Great Leonopteryxâs smaller cousins. It offered little protection against the elements, but the Kekunan did not dress for comfort; you dressed for the dance.
âYou ready, girl?â you murmured, your voice barely a whisper against the gale.
Niâmuna didn't need the words. Through the bond, you felt the thrum of her heartâa rapid, powerful rhythm that mirrored the pounding in your own chest. You felt the twitch of her wing muscles, the way she tasted the thermal drafts, and the sheer, unadulterated hunger for speed.
With a sudden, violent thrust of her wings, she tipped her nose toward the abyss.
The stomach-flipping drop was your favorite part. You leaned forward, flattening your chest against her neck, your wind-swept curls whipping behind you like a dark cloud. The air roared past your ears, a deafening whistle that drowned out the world. You were practicing a maneuver inspired by the old storiesâthe ones your father told about the Great War. He had spoken of a warrior, the Toruk Makto, who used the sky as a three-dimensional battlefield, twisting and diving in ways that the traditional aerial dances hadn't yet touched.
âNow!â you thought, a command sent through the braid.
Niâmuna tucked one wing and flared the other. You went into a violent, high-speed barrel roll. The world spunâsky, rock, fog, sky againâin a blur of turquoise and gray. Amidst the centrifugal force trying to tear you from the saddle, you reached back, your fingers finding the notch of your bow by muscle memory alone.
You saw the target: a small, crimson shell fruit you had balanced on a jutting branch of a solitary floating islet.
In the split second where your horizon leveled during the roll, you drew. The tension of the string was a familiar ache in your shoulder. You released.
Thwack.
The arrow pierced the fruit dead center, pinning it to the bark as you zoomed past. Niâmuna leveled out with a triumphant shriek, her own roars joining your piercing whoop. You banked a wide, graceful turn to retrieve your arrow, expecting to be alone with your victory.
Instead, as you approached the small islet, Niâmunaâs head crested with a low, wary hiss.
Unbeknownst to you, Neteyam stood on the edge of the floating rock, his breath hitching in his throat. He had been sent out on a long-range patrol, seeking the solitude of the high altitudes to clear his head from the pressures of being the "perfect son," when he had heard the scream of an ikranânot the usual cry of a hunter, but a sound of pure, reckless joy.
Then, he had seen you.
From his vantage point, you looked like a streak of falling fire. He watched, mesmerized, as you executed a barrel roll so tight it seemed to defy the physics of flight. He saw the flash of your red feathered top against the blue sky, a vibrant spark that shouldn't have been there. And then, the shot. A blind release in the middle of a terminal velocity spin.
"holy shit," he whispered to himself, stunned.
As your ikran circled back and landed, Neteyam found himself unable to move. He was a forest boy, raised among the towering trees of the Omatikaya, but he had always been a creature of the air at heart. Yet, he had never seen anyone fly like this.
He watched as the great orange beast touched down, its claws scraping the stone. Then, you dismounted.
In the eyes of Neteyam, the world seemed to slow down. You didn't just step off the ikran; you flowed. As you landed on the uneven stone, you moved with a strut that was uniquely yoursâa rhythmic, predatory grace that spoke of absolute confidence. Your tail, long and twitching with the remnants of your adrenaline high, swayed behind you in a rhythmic arc that he found himself tracing with his eyes.
He took in the details of you, his heart hammering against his ribs for a reason that had nothing to do with the altitude. Your hair was a wild, beautiful mess of curls, tangled by the wind and smelling of the high atmosphere. The orange clay streaks on your skin caught the sunlight, making you look like a being carved from the mountain itself. And that red topâthe way the feathers shivered with every breath you tookâmade you look like a bird of prey that had just taken human form.
You were analyzing him, and he knew it. Your golden eyes were sharp, scanning him from his toes to the top of his head. He felt the weight of your gaze, the way you flattened your ears slightly in a gesture of territorial suspicion.
He realized he was staring. He realized he looked like a fool. But he couldn't help it. There was a fire in you that he had never encountered in the jungle. You were daring, strong, and clearly impulsiveâeverything the stories said about the Kekunan, but the stories hadn't mentioned how the wind would look in your hair.
He rose his hand, his fingers trembling just a fraction, and extended them to you. âOel ngati kameie,â he said, his voice a little rougher than usual.
Gracefully, and without breaking eye contact, you wordlessly returned his greeting. Your silence was a challenge.
âYour move just nowâit was amazing!â Neteyam shouted, his smile breaking through his nervousness. It was a bright, warm smile, the kind that usually made people trust him instantly. âThe way you held the line through the roll... I have never seen an ikran move that way.â
You paced a small circle around him, your tail lashing behind you. You were like a forest cat deciding whether to play with a stray pup or drive it off a cliff.
âFyape syaw fko ngar?â you quipped. Your voice was melodic but carried the sharp edge of the high-altitude winds. Before he could even draw breath to answer, you stepped into his personal space, your chin tilting up as if you were looking down on him despite the fact that he was taller. âNga zaâu ftu peseng?â
Neteyam felt a rush of heat to his face. He quickly stood his ground, though your presence was overwhelmingâthe scent of ozone, damp earth, and woodsmoke clinging to you. Remembering not all naâvi speak english he corrected himself and the words began to blend back for him. He placed his hand on his chest, his posture straightening as he reclaimed his dignity.
âI am Neteyam te Suli Jakeâitan,â he spoke, his voice ringing with the quiet pride of his lineage.
He watched your eyes. He saw the flicker of recognition, the way your pupils dilated slightly at the mention of his father. He waited for the awe or the bowing that usually followed. But you were Kekunan. You didn't bow to legends; you challenged them.
You looked him up and down one more time, a smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth. Your tail gave one final, decisive swish.
âA son of the Omatikaya,â you said, your voice dropping to a purr that sent a shiver down his spine. âTell me, Neteyam... does the forest feel very small once youâve seen how we live up here?â
Neteyam looked out at the horizon, at the endless expanse of the Hallelujah Mountains, and then back at the girl in the red feathers who looked like she owned the sun.
âIt does now,â he admitted softly.
The silence that followed was thick with the sound of the wind and the distant cry of other banshees. You studied him, seeing the way his eyes lingered on the orange paint on your shoulders. Most forest Na'vi found the Kekunan's love for bright colors to be "boisterous" or distracting, but Neteyam looked at you with something that felt like reverence.
You liked the way he didn't look away. You liked that he was a rider, tooâyou could tell by the calluses on his hands and his worn visor.
"You are a long way from home, son of Toruk Makto," you said, turning back toward your arrow. You pulled it from the tree with a sharp tug, the fruit sliding off and tumbling into the fog below. "The currents around these peaks are treacherous for those who do not know them. They can peel a weak rider from their saddle before they can even scream."
Neteyam followed you, his eyes fixed on the sway of your hips and the confident stride of your walk. "I am not a weak rider," he said, a hint of playful defiance entering his tone. "And I'm a fast learner."
You turned back to him, your curls obscuring half your face. You reached up, tucking a stray lock behind your ear, and saw him track the movement. A small, wicked idea began to form in your mind.
"Is that so?" you challenged. "Then perhaps you should see if you can find your way back to your clan before the sun dips. Or..." You vaulted onto Niâmunaâs back in one fluid motion, the orange and red feathers of your top flared like a warning. "You could try to keep up with me."
Neteyam didn't hesitate. He let out a sharp whistle, and his own ikran, a sleek forest-green beast, emerged from the mists below, banking hard to land beside yours.
"Lead the way, Kekunan," he said, his eyes bright with a challenge of his own.
You laughed, a wild, free sound that echoed through the canyons. âI am y/n te Kenat OkĂŠyiâite.â you spoke and with a sharp kick, you and Niâmuna dived back into the clouds, a streak of orange and red against the endless blue, with the boy of the Omatikaya racing to catch the fire you left behind.
The days that followed were marked by a new kind of rhythm, one that had nothing to do with the heavy drums of the Kekunan council fires or the structured patrols of the Omatikaya. It was a secret cadence, timed to the movement of the sun as it began its slow descent toward the horizon.
Every morning, you moved with a blurred efficiency that left your family blinking in surprise. You gathered the medicinal mosses from the cliff faces, assisted with the weaving of new ikran harnesses, and completed your martial drills with a fierce intensity that made your brother joke that you were preparing for a second Great War.
Your father, the Oloâeyktan, watched you with a curious tilt of his head, noticing the way his daughter seemed to be vibrating with an unseen energy, but as long as your duties were fulfilled, he granted you the freedom the sky-born so cherished.
And so, every afternoon, you would whistle for Niâmuna. The two of you became a streak of fire against the sky, heading toward that same solitary spire where the clouds parted just right.
You weren't the only one.
Neteyam, the golden son of the Omatikaya, was discovering that his "long-range patrols" were becoming increasingly focused on one specific coordinate in the Hallelujah Mountains. He pushed his ikran harder, his heart leaping every time he saw a flash of orange and crimson through the mist. Heâd arrive with his lungs burning from the high-altitude air, a crooked, breathless smile on his face as he found you already there, usually performing some death-defying feat just to see if he was watching.
On this particular afternoon, the air was unusually still, heavy with the golden light of a Pandoran sunset. You had arrived early, spreading out a newly knitted cover you had spent your nights working on. It was a masterpiece of your craftâthick, durable fibers dyed in shades of neon pink, solar yellow, and deep sunset orange. It was so bright it almost seemed to emit its own light, a vibrant stain against the ancient, gray stone of the mountain peak.
You lay back on the cover, your wild, curls fanned out beneath you like a dark halo. You had reapplied your war paint today, the orange streaks across your cheekbones and collarbones glowing in the fading light. Your new feathered top ruffled slightly in the breeze, the soft down tickling your skin.
Then, you heard it. The familiar, rhythmic hiss-clap of wings beating against the thin air.
You didn't move. You didn't even open your eyes, though your ears swiveled toward the sound, twitching as the heavy thud of an ikran landing vibrated through the rock beneath you. You heard the soft thump of feet hitting the ground, followed by the familiar, steady stride of the forest boy.
âWatching the sunset?â Neteyam quipped.
His voice was closer than you expected. You opened your eyes to find him standing over you, his silhouette framed by the colossal, glowing orb of Polyphemus in the distance. He looked down at you with those curious, amber eyesâthe kind of look that always made you feel like he was trying to memorize the exact pattern of your stripes. He looked tired, his own riding gear dusted with the grime of a long dayâs work, but his smile was as bright as ever.
âYes,â you spoke, your voice smooth and low, lacking the sharp defensive edge it had possessed the first day you met. âJoin me. I never noticed how quickly it went by until now.â
You reached out, your handâstill stained with a bit of orange clayâpatting the empty space of the vibrant cover beside you.
Neteyam hesitated for a fraction of a second, his gaze flickering from your face to the empty spot, before he sank down. He leaned back on his hands at first, watching the way the sky began to bleed into deep purples and bruised oranges. Then, following your lead, he eased himself down until he was lying flat beside you.
The silence between you wasn't empty; it was full of the sound of Niâmuna and his ikran grooming each other a few yards away, and the low hum of the mountain's magnetic fields.
âMy mother is starting to wonder why I come back with mountain mist in my hair every night,â Neteyam admitted softly, his head turning on the cover to look at you. From this close, he could see the way your eyelashes caught the golden light. He found himself mesmerized by the way you looked in reposeâstill fierce, but with the sharp edges softened by the twilight.
You turned your head to meet his gaze, a small, knowing smirk playing on your lips. âAnd what do you tell her? That you are being schooled in the art of flight by a girl who lives in the clouds?â
Neteyam chuckled, a soft sound that vibrated in the small space between you. âI tell her I am studying the terrain. It is not a lie. I have learned more about these mountains in the last seven days than I have in my entire life.â
He reached out, his fingers hovering just inches from the edge of your vibrant cover, before he grew bold enough to let his hand rest near yours. âThe Omatikaya see the beauty in the roots and the shadows. But you... you Kekunan... you see the beauty in the heights that should be terrifying. Iâm beginning to understand why.â
You watched his hand, then looked back into his eyes. For the first time, you didn't feel the need to boast or to prove your status as the Oloâeyktanâs daughter. You felt a strange, grounding warmthâa feeling that was entirely new to a girl who had spent her whole life trying to leave the ground behind.
âThe sky doesn't judge you, Neteyam,â you whispered, your tail giving a soft, rhythmic flick against the fabric of the mat. âIt only asks if you are brave enough to stay in it. i am starting to believe that you just might be.â
Neteyam shifted, his shoulder brushing against yours, and for a long moment, you simply watched the world turn gold, together.
Eventually the sky began to deepen into a bruised purple, the bioluminescence of the distant forest floor beginning to wake up like a thousand fallen stars.
Lying there, side by side on the vibrant orange and yellow cover, the world felt suspended. The high-altitude winds that usually whipped through the peaks had died down to a gentle sigh, as if the moon itself was holding its breath.
Neteyam shifted, turning onto his side to prop his head up on his hand. He watched the way the fading light played across the orange streaks on your skin.
He looked like he wanted to say something, his brow furrowing in that serious, thoughtful way he hadâthe "future leader" look that he couldn't quite shake off even when he was relaxing.
"The mountains are beautiful," he began, his voice dropping into a low, resonant tone. "But they are only half of Pandora. You spend all your time looking down at the fog, waiting to dive through it. You rarely walk beneath the canopy."
You turned your head toward him, a playful, skeptical glint in your golden eyes. "And why should I? The ground is slow. It is full of shadows and tangled roots that trip you. Up here, there is nothing to stop you."
Neteyam smiled, but there was a challenge in it this time. "The shadows are where the best stories are. And the best game." He sat up slightly, gesturing toward the vast, dark expanse of the jungle far below.
"The Omatikaya have moved to High Camp now. The old hunting grounds near the ruins of the Hometree... they are quiet. The Sky People stay away from the deep bush there. We would have the area all to ourselves."
He looked back at you, his eyes locking onto yours. "Let me take you hunting. On the ground. No ikran, no diving from a thousand meters. Just the forest floor, the bow, and the heartbeat of the woods."
You let out a short, melodic laugh, sitting up and crossing your legs. Your red feathered top rustled, and you tossed your wind-swept curls back with a haughty flick of your head. "You want to teach me how to hunt, forest boy? I have been a hunter since I was small enough to climb into Niâmunaâs saddle. I can hit a fkew fruit while spinning in a terminal dive. My aim is truer than any warrior in my clan."
You gestured to the bow resting near your mat, your chin tilting up in that classic strut of confidence. "I am an excellent hunter."
Neteyamâs grin widened, becoming something a bit more mischievous. He didn't look intimidated by your boast; in fact, he looked like he had been waiting for you to say exactly that.
"Oh, I know youâre a good hunter," he said, his voice trailing off as he let out a soft snort of amusement. He leaned in a little closer, his amber eyes dancing with light. "From the back of your ikran."
He let the comment hang in the air for a second, watching your ears twitch in indignation.
"Itâs easy to hit a target when you have the entire sky to maneuver in," he continued, his tone teasing. "But on the ground? In the thick brush where you cannot see ten paces ahead of you? Where you have to move without a single leaf whispering against your skin? That is a different dance. There, your ikran cannot save you if you miss your mark."
You bristled, your tail lashing behind you and striking the bright fabric of the cover with a sharp thud. "I can move silently. We are not clumsy, Neteyam."
"I didn't say you were clumsy," he replied softly, his gaze softening as he took in your fierce expression. "Iâm saying youâre a daughter of the sky. I want to see if you can handle being a daughter of the earth, too."
He stood up, offering his hand to youâthe same hand that had greeted you with respect on the first day. The sun had finally dipped below the horizon, leaving the world in a soft, blue twilight.
"Tomorrow," he said. "Meet me at the base of the weeping spires at dawn. Leave Niâmuna at the high ledge. We walk."
You looked at his hand, then up at his face. The arrogance within you fought with a sudden, sharp curiosity. You wanted to prove him wrongâto show him that you could master his world just as easily as you mastered yours. But more than that, you realized you weren't ready for these afternoons to end.
You placed your hand in his, your orange-painted skin a sharp contrast against his deep blue palm. Your grip was firm, a silent acceptance of the wager.
"Do not cry when I outrun you through your own trees, Neteyam te Suli," you warned, though the corners of your mouth were twitching with a hidden smile.
He squeezed your hand gently before letting go. "We shall see, sky-girl. We shall see."
You didn't give him the satisfaction of a long goodbye. With a sharp whistle, you urged Niâmuna toward the ledge. But as you reached the precipice, you couldn't resist one last display. Instead of taking flight normally, you stood up in the stirrups and leaned forward, falling off the edge of the cliff into a dead-weight dive.
For a second, you were just a blur of red and blue plummeting through the dark. Then, with a roar that shook the stone, Niâmuna dived after you. She snatched you out of the air with her massive talons, tossing you upward with practiced precision. You flipped in the empty space of the abyss, the wind roaring in your ears, before slamming back down perfectly into the saddle.
You banked a hard turn, looking back over your shoulder to see Neteyam standing at the very edge of the rock, his mouth slightly agape, his eyes wide with a mixture of terror and absolute awe. You offered him a sharp, two-fingered wave before vanishing into the mist.
Neteyam watched the spot where you had disappeared for a long time, the image of your form burned into his mind.
âAlways showing off,â he murmured to the empty air, a helpless, lopsided smile playing on his lips.
He whistled for his own ikran, mounting with a far less dramatic take-off. His mind was a chaotic swirl of orange paint, red feathers, and the way your golden eyes had challenged him. By the time he reached the high-altitude forest where the Omatikaya had established High Camp, the moon was high, and his focus was entirely elsewhere.
He landed on the ikran platforms, his movements uncharacteristically sluggish as he unmade the tsaheylu. He was still picturing the way you had looked lying on that bright cover, the sunset turning your skin into glowing amber.
"Neteyam!"
The sharp bark of his fatherâs voice snapped him back to reality. He winced, turning to see Jake and Neytiri standing near the communal fire. His father looked weary, his arms crossed over his chest, while his mother stood with a hand on her hip, her golden eyes narrowed in a way that suggested she had been waiting for a long time.
"Sir," Neteyam said, quickly lifting his riding visor and straightening his posture.
"I asked you to watch Tuk today," Jake said, his voice flat with disappointment. "Mo'at was stuck with her all evening while she was trying to prepare the medicinal tinctures. Sheâs five, Neteyam. She canât be left to wander alone."
Neteyam felt a sinkhole open in his stomach. He had completely forgotten. "Iâm sorry, sir. It... it must have really slipped my mind this time. I was out on the ridge and lost track of the shadows."
Jake sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Slipped your mind? Thatâs the third time this week youâve missed a rotation or a chore, boy. You're the eldest. Youâre supposed to be the one I don't have to worry about."
"I know. It won't happen again," Neteyam promised, but his ears swiveled toward his mother.
Neytiri hadn't said a word, but she was watching him with a terrifyingly perceptive intensity. She stepped forward, her tail flicking with a slow, deliberate curiosity. She reached out, grabbing her sonâs hand between her own, turning his palm up.
"Ma Itan... we are a little worried for you," Neytiri spoke, her voice softer than Jake's but carrying a different kind of weight. "Your head has been in the clouds. These are small mistakes, yes, but they are so unlike you. You have always been most diligent."
She ran a thumb over his palm, her eyes darting to the faint, dried smudge of orange clay near his thumbâa color that didn't belong to the forest or the Omatikaya.
"And this especially is not the time," Jake added, pacing a short line. "With the Sky People coming after us as aggressively as they are now, we need every scout focused. We need you here, Neteyam. Not drifting off into the mountains for hours on end."
Neteyam stood there, his tail twitching rhythmically behind himâa tell-tale sign of his inner agitation. He thought of the way you laughed, the way you moved with that predatory strut, and the challenge for tomorrow's hunt. He felt like he was living in two worlds at once, and the one with you was becoming much brighter than the one under the canopy.
He gently patted his motherâs hand before she dropped his. He couldn't meet her eyes for a second, fearing sheâd see your name written in his pupils.
"I am very sorry," he said, his voice regaining some of its formal steadiness. "I am not sure what has gotten into me lately. The altitude, perhaps. I will do better. I'll check in with Mo'at and Tuk now."
"See that you do," Jake said, turning back toward the command center.
Neytiri, however, lingered. She watched her son walk away, noticing the way his step was a little lighter than it should be for someone who had just been scolded. She looked down at her own hand, sensing the faint trace of that strange, mountain-clay scent.
A small, knowing smile touched her lips, though it was tinged with the protective shadow of a motherâs intuition. She knew that look. It was the look of someone who had found something more captivating than duty.
"The clouds," she whispered to herself, glancing up toward the darkened peaks of the Hallelujah Mountains. "Or someone who lives among them."
The morning mist was a thick, silver curtain that clung to the damp bark of the Weeping Spires. Down here, the air was heavy with the scent of wet earth, blooming night-flowers, and the low, hummed vibrations of the forest floor. It was a world of muffled soundsâa sharp contrast to the whistling gales and screaming banshees of your home.
You had arrived early, grounding Niâmuna on a high, moss-covered shelf several hundred meters up. Youâd patted her snout, whispering for her to stay hidden, before beginning the long, athletic descent on foot.
To meet Neteyam on his own turf, you had stripped away the boisterous identity of the Kekunan girl. Gone were the screaming oranges and the vibrant reds. Instead, you had dressed in muted tonesâa wrap of deep forest green and a loincloth of slate blue that helped you blend into the shadows of the massive ferns.
More notably, your skin was clean. You had scrubbed away the aggressive orange clay streaks, leaving your sapphire skin bare. For the first time, the natural bioluminescent patterns of your body were fully visibleâintricate, shimmering dots that traced the elegant curve of your spine and the slope of your shoulders like a map of the stars.
Even your hair was different. Your riding visor had been tossed aside in favor of a simple woven headband that kept your curls pulled back from your face, exposing the sharp, inquisitive line of your jaw.
You heard him before you saw him. The soft, rhythmic thud-thud of a runner who knew how to distribute his weight. You perched yourself on a low-hanging branch of a giant root, your tail coiled tightly around the wood for balance.
Neteyam rounded the bend of a massive tree trunk, moving with a fluid, easy pace. He slowed as he reached the clearing, his eyes scanning the greenery. He looked focused, his bow held loosely in one hand, but the second his gaze landed on you, he stopped dead.
He didnât speak for a long moment. His amber eyes traveled over you, taking in the transformation. Without the bright paint and the visor, you looked less like a beautiful mountain spirit and more like... a beautiful girl. He noticed the way your natural markings glowed faintly in the dim forest light, and how the headband made your eyes seem even larger, more piercing.
"You look..." He started, then cleared his throat, a rare blush creeping up his neck. "You look like you belong down here."
You dropped from the branch, landing silently on the balls of your feet. Even in the shadows, you kept that strutâhips swaying, shoulders back, a natural predatorâs grace. "Do not get used to it, forest boy. I only wore these colors so I wouldn't have to hear you complain that my bright feathers were scaring away your prey."
Neteyam stepped closer, his gaze still lingering on the patterns on your shoulders. He seemed momentarily mesmerized by the sight of you without your "warrior's mask" of paint. "Itâs not just the colors," he murmured, his voice softening. "I can finally see your face."
You felt a prickle of heat at the back of your neck. To hide it, you reached back and checked the tension of your bowstring. "Less talking, more hunting. The sun is climbing, and you promised to show me what makes a 'daughter of the earth' so special."
Neteyamâs lopsided smile returned, though it felt more intimate this time. "Right. Follow me. And try to keep your feet lightâthe ground has ears."
As he turned to lead the way into the deep brush, he couldn't help but glance back over his shoulder. He had spent all night being scolded for having his head in the clouds, but standing here in the quiet heart of the forest, watching the way your tail flicked with anticipation, he realized the danger wasn't in the clouds at all.
The danger was right here, walking beside him.
The forest was a cathedral of filtered light and heavy silence. To you, it felt claustrophobic; the air didn't move the way it did at the peaks, and every step felt like an intrusion on the earth. Neteyam moved like a ghost, his deep blue skin blending into the shadows of the massive ferns.
He kept glancing back, not to check if you were keeping upâyou were a good hunter, your athleticism was never in questionâbut to watch the way you navigated this new terrain.
Without your visor and bright paint, you felt exposed, but there was a strange freedom in it. The headband kept your curls from your eyes, allowing you to see the intricate textures of the moss and the way the light caught the bioluminescent veins of the leaves.
"There," Neteyam whispered, his hand going flat in the air to signal a stop.
Through a gap in the oversized fan-foliage, a hexapede was grazing. It was a beautiful creature, its fan-like ears twitching as it dipped its head to feed. It was calm, unaware of the two predators watching from the brush.
Neteyam looked at you, a challenge in his eyes. He gestured to your bow, stepping back to give you the shot. He wanted to see the sky-girl handle the ground.
You notched an arrow, your muscles coiling. Your heart hammeredânot with fear, but with the frustration of the stillness. Usually, when you hunted, you were screaming through the air at eighty kilometers an hour, accounting for wind resistance, Niâmunaâs wing-beat, and the frantic escape of your prey. Here, everything was too quiet. Too steady.
You drew the string back, your eyes locked on the hexapedeâs vital spot behind the shoulder. You released.
The arrow whistled through the air, but just as it flew, your body instinctively twitched as if to compensate for a sudden updraft that wasn't there. The shaft struck the hexapedeâs flankâa solid hit, but not a kill shot. The creature let out a pained cry and bolted.
"shit!" you hissed, reaching for another arrow, but Neteyam was already a blur of motion.
He didn't leap or shout. He simply flowed forward, his bow rising in one fluid movement. He tracked the animal through the dense brush with a terrifyingly calm precision.
He released. His arrow found the mark, piercing the hexapedeâs heart and dropping it instantly. It was the "clean kill" of a forest hunter.
You reached the animal first, looking down at your misplaced arrow and then at his. You felt the hot sting of pride in your cheeks. "The ground moved," you muttered, though you knew it hadn't.
Neteyam knelt beside the animal, offering a prayer to Eywa for its spirit. When he finished, he looked up at you, his expression soft rather than mocking. "You accounted for the wind, didn't you? You hunted like you were still on Niâmuna."
"It is how I have always hunted," you snapped, but your tail gave a frustrated flick.
He stood up, stepping into your space. "It was a good shot for a rider. But here..." he stepped even closer, his hand reaching out to steady your shoulder. "Here, you only have to trust your own feet."
Despite your miss, the excitement of the chase took over. You let out a small, sharp whoop of victoryâthe high-pitched cry of the Kekunanâand began to laugh at the sheer absurdity of your error. "I suppose I am a little out of my element."
Neteyam laughed with you, his hand sliding from your shoulder to the side of your neck. The humor faded, replaced by an intensity that made the forest around you vanish. "I don't think you're out of your element anywhere," he whispered.
Not far away, hidden behind a curtain of weeping vines, Neytiri froze. She had been collecting rare medicinal fungi for Moâat, her basket half-full. The high-pitched, melodic whoop had startled herâit wasn't an Omatikaya cry.
She moved with the silence of a shadow, parting the leaves just enough to peek into the clearing.
Her breath caught. She saw her son, his back to her, standing dangerously close to a girl she didn't recognize. This wasn't the girl from his childhood. This girl had the lean, long-limbed build of the mountain clans, her skin bare of paint, her natural star-map patterns glowing softly in the shade.
Neytiri watched as Neteyam leaned in. He spoke words that were lost to the rustle of the leaves, but the intent was clear. He reached out, his fingers tangling slightly in your dark curls, and gently pulled your head toward his.
You stiffened at first. Your ears flickered back in surprise, and your tail went rigid behind you, the tip twitching with a sudden spike of nerves. But as his forehead touched yoursâa connection of a deep, personal confessionâyou melted. Your eyes fluttered shut, your hands finding the steady muscles of his chest, and you leaned into him, accepting the silent vow he was making.
Neytiri stayed perfectly still. She saw the way your tails began to entwine instinctively, the way her sonâs shoulders relaxed for the first time in weeks. She saw the children of two different worlds finding a middle ground that her husband had once found with her.
She didn't interfere. She didn't let them know she was there. A small, bittersweet smile touched her lips. She understood now why the "mist was in his hair" and why his head was in the clouds.
She slowly backed away, disappearing into the greenery as silently as she had come, leaving the two of you alone in the quiet heart of the world.
The moons of Pandora turned, and the secret path between the High Camp and the floating spires became a well-worn trail for two pairs of feet. What started as a daring wager had shifted into something deeperâa bridge between the canopy and the clouds.
It happened on a day when the mist was thick enough to hide a leonopteryx. Neteyam had led you to a secluded ledge just below the Omatikayaâs main camp. He looked more nervous than he had been when facing down the hexapede.
"Just... be patient with them," he whispered, adjusted his loincloth.
"I am a tsakarem, Neteyam. I know how to handle children," you teased, though your tail gave a nervous flick.
When the siblings emerged from the brush, the reaction was instantaneous. Tuk, a blur of blue energy, let out a gasp so loud it echoed. "Sheâs so bright!" she squealed, running up to you. She didn't hesitate, her small hands reaching out to touch the vibrant purple weaving of your new top. "And your hair is so curly! Is it because of the wind?"
Kiri followed at a more measured pace, her eyes wide and luminous. She didn't look at your clothes; she looked at the way you stood, sensing the rhythm of the mountain air still clinging to your skin. "You smell like the high places," she said softly, a smile of genuine wonder spreading across her face. "Like ozone and cold stone."
Loâak, however, stayed back, his arms crossed over his chest. He looked at Neteyam, then at you, a slow, knowing smirk spreading across his face. "So... this is where youâve been," he drawled, his voice dripping with playful malice. "And here I thought you were actually becoming a better scout. Turns out you were just chasing a bird-girl."
"Loâak, shut up," Neteyam muttered, his ears burning a deep violet, but he couldn't hide the pride in his eyes as Tuk began to climb your leg like a small prolemuris.
"Higher! Higher, Niâmuna!" Tukâs voice was a high-pitched gale of laughter.
You had strapped the youngest Suli into a modified tandem harness. For a child of the forest, the heights should have been terrifying, but Tuk had her fatherâs blood. You took her on a tourânot the steady, horizontal flight of the Omatikaya, but the vertical, spiraling dance of your people.
You banked Niâmuna hard, skimming the underside of a floating island where the glowing moss hung like chandeliers.
"Look down, Tuk!" you shouted over the wind.
The little girl leaned over the edge of the saddle, her eyes reflecting the vast, green world below. She wasn't screaming in fear; she was reaching out as if she could catch the clouds in her palms. You felt a surge of affection for the girl. She had a strong spirit âfearless and full of wonder. When you finally landed, her hair was a wild nest and her eyes were glowing. She hugged your waist so hard you nearly lost your breath. "I want to live in the sky forever," she whispered.
Later that evening, while the boys were off competing in a target-shooting contest, you sat with Kiri on a flat rock overlooking the valley. You were showing her how to repair a frayed strand of an ikran harness.
"Is it true?" Kiri asked, her voice hushed. "That your clan is born from the first rider?"
"Taronyu," you confirmed, your fingers moving with practiced grace. "In our clan, the bond with our ikran isn't just for hunting or war. It is a conversation that never ends. When I sleep, I sometimes feel Niâmunaâs dreamsâthe sensation of falling, the taste of raw meat, the itch of a new feather. We are taught to listen to their heartbeat before we even learn to track a hexapede."
Kiri touched the leather harness, her expression distant. "I feel the forest like that," she whispered. "Like itâs a heartbeat under my feet."
"Then you are far more touched by eywa than you know," you said, pressing your shoulder against hers. "sheâs blessed us with the ability hear the heartbeat of the wind."
The peace was shattered a week later. You and Neteyam were sitting at the edge of the "meeting ledge," sharing a piece of fruit, when the air suddenly grew heavy.
Niâmuna let out a sharp, warning squawk. You stood up, reaching for your bow, but relaxed when a tall, muscular Naâvi stepped out of the fog. He wore the boisterous, sun-bright yellows of your clan, his skin painted with aggressive black stripes.
It was your elder brother, Kaâru.
"So," Kaâru boomed, his voice echoing off the rocks. "little sister has a shadow."
Neteyam stood up quickly, his hand moving toward his knife before he realized who it was. He straightened his shoulders, meeting your brotherâs intimidating gaze with the steady composure he was known for.
"Kaâru, stop it," you hissed, stepping between them.
"I have been following you for three days," Kaâru ignored you, stepping into Neteyamâs personal space. He was a head taller and much broader. He looked the Omatikaya heir up and down, evaluating every muscle. "You are the son of the Toruk Makto. I see the resemblance. But can you fly, or do you just fall gracefully?"
"I hold my own," Neteyam replied, his voice calm but firm.
Kaâru let out a short, barking laugh. He didn't offer a hand. Instead, he lunged forwardânot to strike, but to grab. He seized Neteyamâs right forearm in a crushing grip.
Neteyam didn't flinch. Understanding the gesture instantly, he reached out and clamped his own hand around Kaâruâs forearm, the two of them locked in the traditional Kekunan greetingâa test of strength and a sign of mutual respect. They stood there for a long beat, muscles tensed, eyes locked.
Kaâru gave a single, sharp nod, his grip tightening once more before he let go.
"He has a good grip, sister," Kaâru said, turning to you with a wicked grin. "His bones aren't made of hollow bird-feathers after all." He turned back to Neteyam, his expression turning serious. "Keep her safe, forest boy. Or I will find you, and there is nowhere in the sky you can hide from me."
Neteyam didn't back down. He inclined his head, a respectful but undaunted smile on his face. "I think sheâs the one keeping me safe, but I hear you."
As Kaâru whistled for his ikran and dived back into the mist, Neteyam let out a long, shaky breath, rubbing his sore forearm. "Your family is... intense."
"We are known for our boldness," you laughed, pulling him back down toward the mat. "Did you expect anything less?"
The evening air at High Camp was heavy with the scent of roasted meat and the sweet, fermented nectar the Omatikaya gathered from the deep-forest blossoms. The Suli family sat gathered around their central hearth, the fire casting long, flickering shadows against the stone walls of the cavern. It was a rare moment of peace in a time of growing shadows, but for Neteyam, the silence felt heavy.
His mind was leagues away, floating among the mist-shrouded peaks where a girl with wild curls and orange-streaked skin was likely preparing for the night. He was physically there, his fingers absentmindedly tearing at a piece of fruit, but his spirit was soaring somewhere near the Hallelujah Mountains.
Neytiri leaned forward, her golden eyes reflecting the hearth-fire. She watched her eldest son with a motherâs quiet, predatory scrutiny. She had seen the change in himâthe way his gaze drifted toward the horizon even during tactical briefings, the way he moved with a new, restless energy that seemed to vibrate beneath his skin.
"Neteyam," she began, her voice melodic but carrying the weight of tradition. "You have been a hunter of the people for many moons now. You have walked the path of the Iknimaya. You have proven your heart to the forest and your loyalty to your people."
Neteyam snapped back to the present, his ears twitching forward. "Yes, Sa'nok?"
"It is time you think of the future of our clan," Neytiri continued, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips. She wasn't blind; she had seen the mountain clay on his skin, but as a mother and a leader, she had to test the waters. "A leader must have a mate to ground him. To share his burden when the sky grows dark. There are many fine daughters in the Omatikaya who look at you with eyes of hope."
Jake looked up from the spear-tip he was sharpening, nodding in agreement. "Sheâs right, son. Youâre the future Oloâeyktan. You need someone strong by your side. What about Sa'eyla? Her father is one of our best warriors. Sheâs quick, sheâs smart, and sheâs made it pretty clear sheâs interested in you. I saw her trying to help you with your harness yesterdayâ sheâd also make a fine tsahĂŹk."
Neteyam felt a cold knot tighten in his stomach. The thought of Sa'eylaâor any forest-born girlâfelt like a tether pulling him away from the sky. Sa'eyla was kind, yes, but she didn't smell of ozone and mountain mist. She didn't have a laugh that sounded like a challenge to the wind.
Before he could find the words to deflect, Kiri spoke up. She was lounging against a mossy rock, her eyes half-closed as she tuned into the vibrations of the earth. "What about Y/N te kenat?"
The name hung in the air like a lightning strike.
Jake paused, his bow-stringer stilled in his hands. He furrowed his brow, looking at his daughter. "The Tsakarem of the Kekunan? The Oloâeyktanâs daughter?" He let out a low whistle, a mix of respect and concern. "Sheâs a hell of a rider, thatâs for sure. I remember her father from th War. But babygirl, sheâs from a different world. The Kekunan are... impulsive. They don't take to the forest life easily."
Jake looked back at Neteyam, his expression turning serious. "And besides... Iâve heard talk from the scouts who trade near the northern cliffs. They say sheâs already being courted back at her own camp. A young hunter named Tswaya. Apparently, heâs been bringing her the best kills for weeks. Her father favors him. Heâs a 'sky-born' through and through."
The world seemed to tilt on its axis. Neteyamâs ears flattened instantly against his skull. His tail, usually a rhythmic pendulum of calm, went deathly rigid behind him. The image of another manâa Kekunan who flew like you, who shared your air, who spoke your dialect without an accentâseared through his mind like dragon-fire.
"Tswaya?" Neteyamâs voice was low, vibrating with a sudden, sharp edge that made Lo'ak look up in surprise.
"Yeah, thatâs the name," Jake said, oblivious to the storm brewing in his son. "Heâs a strong candidate for their next lead hunter. It makes sense for their clan to keep the lineage strong. Strategic, you know?"
Neteyam stood up so abruptly his stool nearly toppled over. The silence that followed was deafening. Even Tuk stopped chewing, her large eyes darting between her brother and her parents.
"I... I am not hungry," Neteyam spoke, the words forced through a tight jaw. "Excuse me. I need to check on my ikran."
"Neteyam, waitâ" Neytiri started, but he was already gone, a shadow disappearing into the moonlit woods with a speed that bordered on reckless.
He didn't just fly; he pushed his ikran to the point of exhaustion. The wind roared past him, but it couldn't drown out the roar in his blood. Every beat of his ikran's wings felt like his own heart hammering against his ribs. Tswaya. The name tasted like ash.
By the time he reached your usual meeting spotâa secluded, flat-topped peak hidden by a permanent veil of mistâhis lungs were burning from the thin, cold air.
You were there, sitting on your vibrant, neon-colored cover. You had been mending a leather strap by the light of a small bioluminescent lantern, the soft blue glow reflecting off your bare, star-mapped skin and the beaded halter top that left almost nothing covered didnât go unnoticed. You looked up as he landed, a smile of greeting starting to form on your lips, but it died the moment you saw his face.
Neteyam didn't wait for a greeting. He dismounted before his ikran had even fully settled, his stride predatory and heavy as he marched toward you. the slinging of his beaded braids adding to it.
"Who is Tswaya?" he demanded, his voice echoing off the stone pillars.
You blinked, startled by the sheer heat radiating from him. You stood up, the leather strap falling from your lap. "What? Tswaya is... he is a hunter of my clan. Why are youâ"
"My father says he is courting you," Neteyam interrupted, stepping into your space. He was so close you could feel the heat coming off his body, see the way his pupils were dilated with possessive rage. "He says he brings you kills. He says your father favors him. You told me he wasn't a threat. You told me there was no one else."
The jealousy in him was a living thing, raw and jagged. It was the first time you had seen the future oloâeyktan,the calm warrior, truly lose his composure. It was a side of him that was all Jake Suliâthe human-born fireâmixed with the fierce territoriality of the Na'vi.
"Neteyam, listen to me," you said, reaching out to touch his arm.
He flinched back at first, his eyes searching yours for a lie, but you stepped closer, refusing to let him retreat. "Tswaya is a fool who chases my tail. Yes, he brings meat to my father's hearth. Yes, my father thinks he is a strong rider because he is loud and boastful. But I have never accepted a single gift from him. Every piece of meat he brings, I give to the elders. I have never shared those feelings. To me, he is nothing but a brother of the clan. He is a child playing at being a man."
You took another step, placing your hands flat against his chest. You could feel his heart thudding like a trapped bird. "He is not you, Neteyam. He does not know the way I breathe. He does not know the way the wind feels at the edge of the world. Only you and I know that."
Neteyamâs breathing began to slow, the rigid line of his shoulders softening just a fraction. He looked at youâtruly looked at youâin the soft blue light. He saw the bare skin of your shoulders, the intricate star-patterns of your markings, and the way your eyes held nothing but a fierce, unwavering truth.
"I cannot lose you," he whispered, his voice cracking. "I spent all dinner hearing about forest girls and 'proper matches.' My father talked about strategy and lineage. But none of them are you. I don't want to just meet you in the mist anymore. I don't want to worry about who is bringing meat to your father's fire."
He swallowed hard, his voice dropping to an intimate, gravelly depth. He reached out, his fingers tangling in your curls, pulling you slightly closer until your foreheads were almost touching.
"I want to be closer to you," he said. "As close as two souls can be. I want the clans to know you are mine, and I am yours. No more secrets. No more 'courting' from others."
He looked deep into your eyes, his gaze searching for any hint of hesitation. "Are you ready? To mate with me? To choose me before Eywa and leave the world of 'what ifs' behind?"
The breath left your lungs. In the almost every naâvi culture, mating was a sacred, permanent bondâa promise that outlasted the wind and the stone. To choose a forest-born boy was to bridge two worlds forever, to potentially face the judgment of your clan. But as you looked at Neteyamâthe boy who had learned to dance in the sky just to see you, who had challenged your arrogance and earned your heartâthere was no doubt.
"I have been ready since the day I saw you standing on my mountain," you whispered. "I choose you, Neteyam te Suli."
The Tree of Voices in the Hallelujah Mountains was a place of ancient, terrifying power. Unlike the grand, sprawling trees of the forest floor, this one was a marvel of vertical life. It clung to the side of a massive floating spire, its glowing white tendrils cascading down like a waterfall of starlight into the bottomless fog below.
You and Neteyam arrived as the moons reached their zenith, the light of Polyphemus casting a giant, ghostly shadow across the peaks. The silence here was holy. The only sound was the faint, melodic chiming of the treeâs glowing fibers as they brushed against one another in the mountain breeze.
Neteyam led you to the very center of the glow, where the roots of the tree drank from the moisture of the clouds. He turned to face you, his expression one of profound, hushed reverence. He reached back, uncoiling his long, dark braid, the neural tendrils at the end glowing with a faint, expectant light. You did the same, your wild curls falling free over your shoulders.
"Under the eyes of the ancestors," Neteyam murmured, his voice a part of the wind.
You reached out, taking the end of his neural queue in your hand, while he took yours. The air seemed to vibrate with anticipation, the very atoms of the mountain hummed.
"I see you, Neteyam," you whispered.
"I see you, Y/N." The tickles of wood sprites began, Eywa herself blessing the union. As the neural tendrils connected, the world didn't just changeâit disappeared.
The tsahaeylu was an explosion of light and feeling. It wasn't just a physical sensation; it was an inundation of the soul. You were suddenly inside his mind, feeling the weight of the forest floor, the smell of rain on hot leaves, and the crushing pressure of being the eldest son of a legend. You felt his love for Tuk, his protective frustration with Lo'ak, and the moment he first saw youâthe way his heart had skipped a beat when you dived off that cliff.
And he was inside you. He felt the cold, sharp bite of the high-altitude air. He felt the exhilaration of the first time you bonded with Niâmuna. He felt the pride you took in your bright colors and the loneliness of being the chieftain's daughter who never quite felt like she fit the mold.
The link deepened, binding your nervous systems until your heartbeats synchronized into a single, thudding rhythm. The bioluminescent dots on your skin flared in unison with his, a pulsing, rhythmic glow that lit up the white tendrils of the tree around you.
In that moment, there was no Omatikaya and no Kekunan. There was only the link. You felt his vowânot spoken in words, but in the raw data of his soul. A promise to protect you, to fly with you, to bridge the gap between the trees and the stars. You mirrored it back, your spirits intertwining as tightly as your braids.
As you leaned in, your foreheads pressing together in the final, sacred seal of the bond, the whispers of the tree seemed to swell into a song of approval. The ancestors were watching, their voices a soft, shimmering static in the back of your shared consciousness.
You were no longer just two people. You were a single entity, a union of earth and sky.
When you finally pulled apart, hours laterâor perhaps only seconds, as time had no meaning in the linkâthe world looked different. The mist was brighter, the stars were sharper, and the tether between you was a living, breathing thing you could feel in the center of your chest.
Neteyam pulled you into his arms, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin. "You are mine," he whispered, the possessiveness from before now replaced by a deep, unshakable peace.
"And you are mine," you replied, looking out over the mountains that were now your shared kingdom. "Let Tswaya bring his meat to my fatherâs hearth. He will find only a cold fire and a daughter who has already flown away."
Neteyam laughed, a sound of pure, unburdened joy that echoed off the cliffs, and as the first light of dawn began to touch the peaks, the two of you sat togetherâ you leaned in, capturing his lips in a kiss.
The return to the ground felt different this time. For the first time in your life, the descent from the Hallelujah Mountains didn't feel like a loss of freedom; it felt like a journey toward a new kind of gravity. The bond was a hum in your marrow, a constant, glowing presence that made the air in your lungs feel sweeter.
Neteyam flew beside you, his green ikran banking in perfect synchronization with Niâmuna. He kept glancing over, his eyes bright with a mixture of terror and triumph. He had won the heart of the sky, but now he had to defend that victory before the two most formidable leaders on Pandora: his father and yours.
The landing at High Camp was silent. The usual bustle of the morningâhunters prepping gear, children playingâseemed to still as the two of you walked into the center of the common area. You still wore your muted forest tones, but you hadn't put back on the headband. Your wild curls were free, and your star-patterned markings were still glowing with the residual energy of the tsahaeylu.
Jake Suli was standing by a tactical map, Neytiri at his side. They looked up as you approached, and the air immediately grew heavy. They didn't need to ask. They saw the way you walkedânot as a guest, but as someone who had anchored their soul to their son. They saw the way Neteyam stood slightly in front of you, his hand habitually finding yours, his eyes steady and defiant.
"Neteyam," Jake said, his voice a low rumble. He looked at your joined hands, then at the marks of the bond on your necks. "What have you done?"
"I have chosen, sir," Neteyam said, his voice ringing with a maturity that silenced the murmurs of the gathering crowd. "I have mated with Y/N of the Kekunan. She is my heart. My life is hers."
Neytiri stepped forward, her eyes searching yours. She didn't look angry; she looked like she was seeing a prophecy fulfilled. She remembered the orange clay on his hand, the mystery in his eyes. She looked at youâbare, honest, and fierceâand she saw the strength that her son had seen.
"You are a daughter of the sky," Neytiri said, her voice echoing. "To mate with our son is to take on the burden of our war. We are a people hunted. To be Omatikaya is to live in the shadows. Can you give up the sun for him?"
You stepped forward, matching Neytiriâs gaze. "I do not give up the sun, Sa'nok. I bring it with me. The Kekunan do not fear the shadows; we just fly above them. I will fight for your people as if they were my own, because they are my own now."
Jake let out a long, slow breath. He looked at Neteyamâthe son he had tried so hard to mold into a perfect soldierâand realized that the boy had found his own way to lead. "You're a lot like your mother," Jake muttered, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. "Headstrong. Reckless." He stepped forward and placed a hand on Neteyamâs shoulder, then looked at you. "Welcome to the family, Y/N. I hope you're ready for a lot of noise."
If the Omatikaya was a test of heart, the Kekunan camp was a test of fire.
As you and Neteyam landed on the main communal ledge of the Kekunan cliffs, the reaction was explosive. Your people didn't do quiet disapproval. Within seconds, you were surrounded by a sea of bright yellows and screaming reds. Your brother, Kaâru, was the first to push through the crowd, his eyes landing on Neteyam with a look of pure shock.
"Sister," Kaâru barked. "What is this? Why is the forest boy wearing the mark of the bond?"
Your father, the Oloâeyktan, emerged from his dwelling. He was draped in a cloak of leonopteryx feathers, his presence as vast and intimidating as the mountains themselves. He looked at Neteyam, then at the way you stood beside him, your chin tilted high, your hand locked in his.
Behind your father stood Tswaya. The young hunter looked like he had been struck. He held a freshly killed mountain bird in his handâa courting gift that now looked pathetic and small.
"Father," you said, your voice carrying over the whistling wind. "I have made my choice. We are mated before eywa." A roar went up from the clanâsome in shock, some in outrage. Tswaya stepped forward, his face flushed. "He is a forest-walker! He does not know our ways! He cannot even fly with the grace of a fledgling!"
Neteyam stepped forward. He didn't reach for his bow. He didn't shout. He simply looked at Tswaya, then at your father. "I may be a forest-walker," Neteyam said, his voice calm amidst the storm. "But I have seen the world from your daughter's eyes. I have flown through your mists and stood at your Tree of Voices. I do not ask for your lands or your titles. I only ask to stand by her side."
Your father walked a slow circle around Neteyam. He looked at the boy's posture, the steadiness of his gaze, and the way he didn't flinch even as the Kekunan hunters hissed and brandished their spears. Here and now neteyam realized where you got your strut and intensity from.
"The Toruk Makto came to us in a time of great need," your father said, his voice deep and gravelly. "He showed us that the sky belongs to those brave enough to claim it. His son seems to have inherited that courage."
He turned to Tswaya, who was still fuming. "Tswaya, take your kill to the elders. Your courting is over. My daughter has chosen."
Your father then turned back to you, placing a heavy, warm hand on your shoulder. "You were always of the wind, Y/N. I knew the cliffs could not hold you forever. If this boy is the one you choose to fly with, then he is a brother of the Kekunan."
Kaâru let out a loud, boisterous laugh, stepping forward to clap Neteyam on the back so hard the boy stumbled. "I told you he had a good grip! Welcome to the family, forest boy. Now, letâs see if you can eat like a Kekunan without choking!"
The tension broke. The clan began to cheer, the bright colors of their garments swirling in a celebratory danceâ their screeching ikrans just as happy. You looked at Neteyam, who looked like a weight had been lifted from his chest. He pulled you close, his forehead resting against yours once more, oblivious to the chaos around you.
"We did it," he whispered.
"We haven't even started yet," you replied, your tail entwining with his. "Now you have to survive the bonding feast."
Neteyam smiled, the brightest you had ever seen. "As long as I'm with you, I can survive anything."
a/n: merry christmas to everyone who celebrates! enjoy this short but sweet blurb about my beloved 'Jingle' â¤ď¸
Eddie books a seasonal job as one of Santaâs elves at Starcourt Mall.Â
Everyone was surprised when he applied, and even you were sure heâd wind up being miserable meeting hundreds of parents and children throughout the season.Â
But perhaps unsurprisingly, he loves it and heâs good.Â
The outfit is ridiculous, eyes drawn mainly to the shiny red shoes that curl up at the toes with a bell on the end of each, the stripey red and green tights, the velvet green shorts that cinch right above his knee, and the pointy hat decorated with candy cane stripes and a red pom pom at the top.Â
You had to stifle a laugh the first time he waltzed out of his bedroom in the costume but his eyes sparkled with something mischievous and the moment he opened his mouth to speak, you knew whoever hired him had either just made the best or worst decision of their life.Â
Because of course Eddie was going to play into the character even more than when he was playing D&D. Of course he was going to give his elf an entire personality, name himself âJingleâ and transform his voice into a higher pitch, jolly but poised court jester type that even had you enraptured.Â
He bounced around the living room, introducing himself with his pointy ears peeking out from his curls and producing a mysterious candy cane from his back pocket. His name was fitting given that he jingled each time he moved with all of the tiny bells attached to the costume.Â
âWhat a delight it is to get to meet such a pretty lady like yourself,â he holds his hand out to take yours before promptly bowing and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. âDo you know what you want for Christmas? I can pull some strings, you know.âÂ
âWhere on earth did you come up with this entire thing in one day, Eddie?â You ask with a giggle and he straightens his spine with an animated raise of his brows.Â
âEddie? You got ears full of cotton candy or something?â He furrows his brows, leaning forward to gently turn your head and look into your ears. âMy name is Jingle, gumdrop. But Iâll let it slide for now. Iâve got to get going- meeting at the olâ headquarters,â he mumbles, taking a step back and spinning on his heel to slowly make his way out of the room. âSomething about a âmisplaced naughty listâ which I know absolutely nothing about,â he yells over his shoulder.
The children love him, and so do their parents. Enough so that management ends up giving him a raise after his first week just to keep him around because business is booming with how many kids are begging to make another trip to the mall to see him again.Â
You only see Eddie in action for the first time when Robin and Vickie decide to get their photo taken with Santa and drag you along with a grumbling Steve for a group picture. Deciding to keep it a secret, you donât tell Eddie youâre coming in hopes of flirting your way into getting a photo with your Christmas elf while heâs on the job.Â
The line is longer than you expected it to be but it gives you ample time to watch Eddie as he works, welcoming each child in with a candy cane and a high five or a fist bump, crouching down to their level each time but especially when someone is a little weary of getting close to Santa.Â
With the shy ones, he whispers something in their ear and does his best to make them laugh until they forget why they were scared in the first place.Â
He really is the life of the place, keeping the energy up and going so far as entertaining some crowd work with a very wobbly rendition of Jingle Bells and Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer that even has Steve singing along where he has been clinging to you with his chin on your head the entire time, claiming heâs too tired to stand properly.Â
âHe has really nice legs,â Vickie blurts out when Eddie is doing jumping jacks with a few of the kids near the front of the line to keep their energy up, the holiday music filtering through the mall speakers barely audible over the sound of his bells.Â
âPlease tell me youâre not talking about Santa,â Robin says with a grimace, making Vickie roll her eyes.Â
âIâm talking about Eddie. Those tights look weirdly good on him.â
âThe whole get up does kinda suit him, doesnât it?â Steve mumbles from above you and you smile.Â
âDefinitely,â you say quietly and Vickie laughs as Robin nudges you in the side.Â
âOoh, I think someone has a thing for the elf!â She goads and you brush her arm away with a small scoff, face heating up when the mother standing in front of you with her baby turns to give you a judging eye.Â
After almost an hour of waiting, youâre close enough to the front that Eddie hears Robinâs comment while heâs grabbing some water, his eyes drifting over the crowd until they reach you. His cheeks and nose are rosy from the blush he asked to borrow, but effectively stole, for the remainder of the holiday season, and his lips curl up into a small smirk as you wiggle your fingers at him.
He doesnât get a chance to wave back but sends you a quick wink before he disappears behind the crowd until youâre second in line.
âCan I get a picture with Jingle?â The little boy in front of you asks his mom who promptly shakes her head, steering him into the entrance with Eddie greeting him.Â
âWeâre here for Santa, honey. Go tell him what you want!â She urges him forward and he gives Eddie a high five before running over to Santa and climbing up on the bench to chat with him.Â
âWelcome to Santaâs Wonderland,â Eddie grins, stepping up to your group as soon as the mother passes by him to get a photo with her son. âThe nameâs Jingle. Itâs a pleasure, a pleasure, a pleasure,â he excitedly greets his friends with a shake to each of their hands. He stops when he reaches you, keeping a gentle grip on your hand. âAnd you⌠Weâve met before, right? I wouldnât forget such a pretty face.â
âOh my godâ Steve mutters when you smile at his antics.
âI was wonderingâŚâ you start quietly, leaning a little closer to Eddie. âCan I get a picture with the elf?âÂ
He gasps, his hands flying to his cheeks before he glances at the family standing behind you, leaning down slightly to speak to the little girl standing there. âDid you hear that? She wants a picture with me!â He gushes, making her giggle.Â
âIs that a yes?â You tilt your head and Eddie turns his attention back to you, glancing behind him to see theyâre getting ready to wave your group over as the boy finishes up rambling his Christmas list to Santa.Â
âElves really arenât supposed to draw attention away from the big guy⌠but I think I can make an exception, just this once,â he says before inviting you in with his hand brushing against your back. âWish me luck,â he murmurs to the young girl before swinging around and making his way to where youâre already stationing yourselves around Santa.Â
You and Vickie end up on either side of him, with Steve squished between her and Robin and Eddie taking his spot next to you. He sees his manager watching him with a suspicious gaze but pays it no mind as you curl your arm around his shoulders and press your cheek against his.Â
âSay âMerry Christmas!ââ The photographer calls over his camera and you all smile, repeating the phrase as Eddieâs hair tickles your neck, wrapping an arm around your waist.
As soon as the flash goes off, Eddie is pulling you up to stand and you waste no time in lifting your hand to his cheek and pressing your lips to the other, leaving a kiss mark in the shade of your lipstick on his skin.
âThank you,â you mumble into his ear and he nods, face flaming as he fights to stay in character. âSee you at home, gumdrop.âÂ
He sputters a laugh before stumbling back away from you dramatically and goes gooey, putting on a show for all of the children watching. âOh myâŚâ he swoons and spins on one of his feet before letting his legs give way to leave him in a puddle on the floor.Â
The kids burst into laughter and you smile, turning to follow your friends out of the makeshift studio.Â
âBye, Jingle!â You call from over your shoulder, seeing his arm lift up in a fluttery wave before he hops up and dusts himself off with a huff, bells jingling on his sleeves.Â
And little did you know, the photographer snuck in an extra photo of the moment you kissed him, so now you have a sweet photo hung on the wall of your apartment with a wide-eyed, rosy cheeked elf seconds away from collapsing to the floor with hearts in his eyes.
Summary: She was the ice queen of Hawkins, all sharp edges and biting words. Eddie Munson was intimidated but smitten. The town freak and the local bitch find love.
When Will Byers goes missing, she's thrown into a fight against foes she never could have dreamed of, and forced to hide dangerous secrets from the boy she was falling for.
Word count: 13.8 K
Warnings: Events of season 2, brief smut, some angst
~~
The summer went by far too quickly for her liking, but she felt as though she had aged five years in the span of a short few months.
She had managed to find a job after graduation, waiting tables at Ritaâs Diner, the go-to grease spot in town since Benny had passed. The tips were dismal as she couldnât stand to plaster on a fake smile to the idiots she served, but it was something.Â
She finally felt like a functioning person, contributing to society, even if her contribution was bringing shit coffee to truckers who couldnât bother to find a better place to waste time.
Between finding time for Eddie, spending time with Eleven, and being forced to spend hours upon hours in the arcade by the group of rascals she babysat, she barely had time for herself. Since the boys were off for summer break and Joyce was unable to take more time off of work, she was left to spend any free time she had with Will and the rest of the boys who refused to leave his side.Â
She was severely deprived of her boyfriend, a fact he would contend with, if his constant whining about her lack of free time was any indication.
But she wouldnât complain, she was free of Hawkins High, a luxury her sweet Eddie didnât have.Â
She had to be extra nice to him the night before, as he prepared for yet another final first day and she had left his trailer with weak knees and a dopey smile, wondering if she had rewarded him or herself.Â
She was more than surprised when she saw his curly head pop into the diner the very next morning.
âWhat are you doing here? Youâre gonna be late.âÂ
âWell, good morning to you too, Sweetheart.âÂ
She sent him an unamused scowl at his chipper attitude. âEddie, this is your second chance. I donât think showing up late is the best way to start.â
âI needed a pick-me-up before I had to brave the hallways of hell again.â He drawled, leaning against the counter, smiling at her cheekily.
âYou donât drink coffee.â
âWasnât talking about coffee.âÂ
She stared back at him plainly, her facade cracking easily with those big brown eyes looking at her. Her lips twitched upwards and he laughed, knowing he had her.Â
He leaned forward, kissing her quickly. If there was any way he was going to survive this next year still in highschool, there was no way he was doing it without her.Â
âGood luck.âÂ
âGot it right here.â
She rolled her eyes. âYouâre so lame.â
âBut you love me.â Eddie grinned, watching adoringly as her eyes widened slightly, looking around nervously to see if any of her coworkers were lingering close enough to hear. He couldnât help but to lean forward to kiss her again. âLove you, Baby.âÂ
âLove you too.â She mumbled, her eyes cast away from him as she busied herself with pouring a cup of coffee for the old man sitting on the far end of the counter.Â
âIâll see you tonight?âÂ
Her heart began to pick up in speed, her mind racing through excuses she hadnât tired out or would make him too suspicious. He couldn't know she was going to a cabin in the middle of the woods to spend time with a superpowered girl hiding from the government who had quickly wormed her way into her cold heart.
âUhh, I canât, I promised Rita Iâd work a double today.âÂ
She smiled stiffly, but when Eddie just nodded and said his goodbyes, finally making his leave, she let out a long breath.Â
She hated lying to him, but it was the only way.Â
As her shift ended at 4 oâclock, and not 11 as she had lied to Eddie, she felt like a criminal as she made her way to her car, as if her boyfriend would pop out from behind a corner and catch her in the act.Â
She pushed him from her thoughts as she drove the familiar route to the cabin.Â
The closer she got, the more her guilt receded into the depths of her mind and by the time she pulled up in front of the rickety old cabin, the torture of lying to her boyfriend was no longer a stinging wound.Â
Her excitement to see Eleven tended to overshadow anything else.Â
With her arms full of grocery bags, she was left to use her foot to knock the secret rhythm. She juggled with the bags to open the door as soon as she heard the sound of the locks clicking open.Â
âHi!â She greeted happily as she stepped inside.Â
Eleven was by her side in a second, a shy, yet excited smile on her face. She was more than surprised to know the girl had grown quite attached to her. She didnât think she was the type anyone would latch on to for comfort.Â
She guessed anything was better than her dadâs gruff approach.Â
âWhatâs all this?â Jim asked, getting to his feet to take the bags from her arms.Â
âFood. Real food. You two canât keep eating that frozen crap every day.â
Jim looked at the fresh produce before him and then to his daughter in surprise. âYou cook now?â
âIâm dabbling.â she shrugged. She moved to the kitchen to help her dad put the food away, her eyes lingering on El who had taken up her usual place in front of the tv, fascinated by the colourful moving pictures on the screen. âHow was everything here?â
âFine.âÂ
She narrowed her eyes at his clipped tone.Â
âShe asked to go outside again?â
Jim sighed, sparing a look at Eleven to make sure she was still occupied by the tv. âYeah. Third time this week.â
âMaybe we should-â
âNo. You know what would happen if people saw her. Itâs not safe.â
âWell, I dunno, at least get her a dog or something. She canât be here alone so much. It doesn't feel right.â
âA dog?â Jim echoed with derision, looking at her plainly. He thought she had stopped with her incessant pleading for a dog years ago.Â
She glared back at him, quickly looking to El to make sure she still wasnât listening. âI get why she has to stay here, but⌠if she isnât happy, if she feels trapped⌠how are we any different from them?âÂ
Jim stiffened, his face growing dark as he thought of what he had seen in Hawkins Lab, what those parasites had done to the poor girl.Â
He didnât say anything more, but the harsh slam of the fridge was enough for her to know the conversation was over.Â
With her heart aching, she made her way to the couch, taking a seat next to the quiet girl. Eleven scooted closer to her, leaning her head against her shoulder as they watched the stupid sitcom on the screen she seemed to be hooked on.Â
Looking down at the young girl, she felt a lump grow in her throat. She wished it could be different.
~~
She was bracing herself as she pulled up to the Wheelerâs house, preparing for the noise level that was about to hit her. The second the car doors opened and the group of four boys shoved their way into the car, there was a litany of âhellosâ that were quickly drowned out by Dustin and Lucasâ arguing about whatever Superhero characters theyâd disagreed on that day.
Noticing it was significantly less noisy than usual, she looked into the rearview mirror, looking at the two quiet boys huddled in the back.
It wasnât unusual for Will to be practically silent, especially since his stint in the Upside Down, but beside him sat a sullen Mike Wheeler, his eyes cast down to his fingers that fidgeted in his lap.Â
He had been different since that night, since losing El.Â
Guilt erupted inside her, like wildfire igniting in her veins. She could make his pain go away, she could tell him the truth, that she had, no more than ten minutes ago, been sitting right next to the girl he was so heartbroken and worried for.Â
But she had made a promise to her Dad, to El, to protect her and she couldnât take any risks.Â
She felt tortured as she looked at his downtrodden expression, feeling like the worst person alive as she stayed silent.
âAre you ok?â
She was broken out of her thoughts abruptly and turned to face Lucas beside her in the passenger seat who was looking at her worriedly.
âIâm fine, why?â
âWe arenât moving.â He stated plainly.Â
âOh, right.â She mumbled and quickly put her car into gear, making the drive to the arcade where she would spend the next three hours eating disgusting food and watching the group of them argue over who gets to play what.Â
As she drove, her eyes continued to roam to the rearview mirror, Mikeâs sad eyes meeting hers. It felt like a punch every time.
~~
The weeks continued to pass with a monotony that was anything but boring. She felt as though she was failing to juggle the lies she had told Eddie and even to the kids. She had to turn down Karen a few times, pretending she was working, when she actually had plans to spend the night with El.Â
She didnât know how many more lies she could tell before she would crumble under the stress of it.Â
There had been too many nights when she had to dodge calls, knowing it was Eddie and she couldnât stand to lie to him again so she just let the phone ring until it stopped. She felt like she was far too plain to be living a double life like some masked vigilante.Â
She hated having to keep such an enormous secret from Eddie, it made her feel like the worst girlfriend alive to constantly be avoiding the man she loved, but there was no force in this world that would allow her to drag him into the mess she found herself in.Â
She would keep the Upside Down and the shady dealings with Hawkins Lab from him for as long as she could.Â
She had been spending more time with Nancy, the younger girl seemingly finding comfort in her and their shared experience with things they couldnât tell another soul about.Â
Their blooming friendship was yet another thing she couldnât exactly tell Eddie about, at least not without inviting a lot of questions as no one would ever believe she and goody-two-shoes Wheeler had anything in common.
Nancy had been coming into the diner more and more, sometimes sitting at the counter and nursing a cup of coffee as they chatted as if they were old friends. One day as Eddie came to visit her at work after another grueling day at school, he was shocked to see his notoriously grumpy girlfriend all smiles as she spoke to Nancy.
He watched them in confusion as he hovered in the doorway. He didnât think she would spare even a look at the preppy girl, but the light in her eyes, signaling her ease, was clear as day.
He didnât think she had looked at anyone but him like that.Â
He approached the counter slowly, as if he were hesitant to ruin the mirage in front of him, because surely it was just that, a mirage.Â
Her eyes flickered over to him, surprise coloring her features, before she quickly schooled her reaction.Â
âHey,â She smiled.Â
âHey, Sweetheart.â He smiled, though it was slightly stiff, as he took a seat at the counter, just a seat over from Nancy.Â
The preppy girl looked over at him nervously, having never been in such close proximity to the local freak. She shifted in her seat uneasily, not wanting to offend her new friend by acting rude to her boyfriend, but she hadnât exactly softened to the infamous Eddie Munson.
âI, uhh, I have to head home, but Iâll see you later.â Nancy spoke awkwardly as she stood from her seat.Â
âYeah, Iâll see you around.â She sent her a small smile, waving as she left.Â
She fiddled around behind the counter, filling up a cup with Eddieâs favorite soda that he would insist on paying for, but she would adamantly refuse.Â
âSo⌠what the hell was that about?â Eddie asked as she placed the drink down in front of him.
âWhat do you mean?â
âYou and Wheeler?â He explained plainly, thinking it was enough of an explanation for his shock.Â
âWhat about it?â She shrugged.Â
âAre you two friends or something?âÂ
âI donât know, Eddie, am I friends with the 80 year old woman who was in earlier and wouldnât stop talking to me about her grandson against my will?â She snarked, becoming defensive at his questions. She couldnât very well tell him about the events that led to her and Nancy becoming closer.Â
He looked startled by her sudden shift in attitude and mumbled a quick âsorryâ.Â
Her shoulders sagged, her teeth digging into her bottom lip as she internally cursed at herself for snapping at him. If the roles were reversed, she wouldnât let him blink before explaining why he was hanging out with a preppy girl who was a part of the crowd that made their lives hell.Â
âSheâs nice to me.â She spoke quietly.Â
Eddieâs eyes softened and he smiled slightly. âThen Iâll be nice too.â
She felt her insides melting, the way he looked at her igniting a fluttering feeling within her she used to scoff at, but was now powerless against.Â
âDonât worry, I wonât be inviting her to our movie nights.â
âThank god.â Eddie deflated. âI donât even wanna know what atrocities she would force us to sit through.âÂ
She snickered, her gaze filled with adoration.Â
~~
Her fingers tapped annoyingly against the counter as she mentally counted down the minutes until she could end her shift. She finally had time to make plans with Eddie and she was more than hoping her night would end with her underwear shoved into his pocket.Â
âHey!âÂ
She looked up from the crossword she was butchering to see Nancy approaching the counter, a bright smile on her face.
âHey.â
âDo you have plans tonight?â
âEddie and I are going to the drive-in. Why, whatâs up?â
âI was wondering if youâd wanna come with me tonight?â Nancy asked with a hopeful smile.
âTo what?âÂ
She watched as Nancy rifled through her backpack before pulling out a bright flyer. She only managed to read a couple of words before she burst out laughing.
âAbsolutely not.â
âCome on, please. It wonât be so bad.â
âNance, not even if you paid me.â She told her honestly. âIâm finally outta that hellhole, my obligation to socialize with people I hate in a place I hate is gone. Besides, wonât Steve be going with you?â
Nancy stiffened slightly, quickly shoving the flyer into her backpack. Across the counter her eyes narrowed, her friendâs reaction making alarm bells go off in her head.
âYeah, just⌠I thought Iâd be fun to hang out.â
She stared back at the prim and proper girl curiously. âAre you feeling ok?â
Nancy tsked and sent her an impatient look. She always hated when her new friend poked fun at their budding connection, as if she couldnât believe she actually wanted to be her friend.
Seeing the disappointment on Nancyâs face gave her pause and she sighed lightly, leaning against the counter so they were at eye level.
âIâd hang out with you in a warzone before Iâd hang out with you at a highschool party.âÂ
Nancy laughed lightly. âUnderstood.âÂ
âSo, you wanna tell me why youâre avoiding your boyfriend?âÂ
Nancy looked up at her shocked, her wide doe eyes betraying her true feelings. âI-I donât-âÂ
âYou donât have to lie to me. You also donât have to tell me anything if you donât want to. Thereâs literally zero stakes here.â
Nancy sighed, resting her chin in her palm as she eyed her new friend carefully, wondering if she should finally spill her guts. She at least knew the girl in front of her wouldnât be blabbing any gossip to Steve, that anything she said was safe with her.Â
âWhen youâre with Eddie, do you everâŚâ She paused, letting out a long breath. âDo you ever find that youâre annoyed by everything he says?â
âAll the time.â She answered immediately, surprising Nancy who looked at her incredulously. âBut I love it. I could listen to him talk all day, even about shit that annoys me.âÂ
Nancy took in her words, a contemplative look on her face, one that shifted into a frown.Â
âIâm guessing that wasnât the answer you were looking for.âÂ
âNo, no, itâs fine. I donât really know what I was looking for.â Nancy waved her off. âSo, things with Eddie are going well?âÂ
She nodded, slightly confused by the question. She got the feeling Nancy was severely missing Barb. She wondered when the nice girl would realize she was a piss poor substitute for a friend.Â
âUhh, yeah, weâre good.â
She was sure she didnât sound convincing by the way Nancy looked at her sadly, assuming they were in the same position of questioning their relationship.
âWeâre great.â She corrected more emphatically. âitâs just⌠Iâm lying to him every day.â
Nancyâs face softened, immediately understanding her hangup.Â
âYouâre lucky.â She said quietly, sounding remorseful. âYouâre with one of the only people who will ever truly know you, know what youâve been through. Eddie will never get all of me.â
Even without the strict threats from the government about what would happen if she told anyone about what theyâd been through, she wasnât about to burden Eddie with any of it.Â
Nancy frowned, reaching out to place a gentle hand over hers.Â
With a heavy breath and a shake of her head, she pushed the thoughts away, knowing sheâd only crumble if she focused on the burden of her secrets for too long.Â
She worried sheâd been a grump for the rest of the day, but the moment she stepped into Eddieâs van, the moment he grinned at the sight of her, the second he kissed her firmly in greeting, she felt the dark emotions float away.Â
Eddie seemed to have that power and she was latching onto it as tightly as it could, praying it would never run out.
That night, she stood in front of her bathroom mirror, applying her makeup. She smiled as she saw Eddie approach her from behind, his arms wrapping around her waist, pressing a kiss to her cheek, thoroughly distracting her from her mission of putting on the perfect winged eyeliner.Â
âGuess what?âÂ
âWhat?â
âI sold all of my stash today after school, which meansâŚâ
She turned to face him, her eyes lighting up in excitement. âNo party?â
âNo party.â Eddie confirmed. âWe can head straight to the drive-in.â
She smiled and kissed him quickly before turning back to the mirror to finish her makeup. Though Eddie seemed to be on a different mission as he began placing heated kisses down the slope of her neck.Â
She hummed in delight, letting her head fall back onto his shoulder.Â
âWeâll never make it if you donât stop.âÂ
âThatâs fine.â He mumbled through his sweet kisses. She huffed and pushed him away slightly.
âYouâve been waiting for this for weeks.â
âYeah, but getting you into the back of my van is so much better than any movie.â
She narrowed her eyes playfully. âWhat every girl wants to hear.âÂ
Eddie laughed, resting his forehead onto her shoulder.
âYeah, guess that did sound kinda Dateline-y.â
She smiled and got back to finishing getting ready, all with Eddie latched onto her like a starfish.Â
They were just getting their shoes on, ready to head out for the night, when the phone rang. Usually, sheâd have no problem ignoring the phone, she quite often did just because she didnât feel like talking to anyone, but things had changed.
Eleven had changed things.
She hesitated, biting her lip nervously as she quickly made her way to the phone.Â
âHello?â
It was quiet on the other line for a few seconds until a quiet voice spoke her name. Her breath caught in her throat, Elâs name on the tip of her lips, but she quickly stopped herself, sparing a quick look to Eddie who was watching her curiously, impatiently waiting at the door.
âIs everything ok?â
âHopper said he would be here, butâŚâ She trailed off, as if embarrassed to reach out to the older girl, embarrassed that she was so scared and lonely.Â
âHeâs not there?âÂ
âNo and itâs getting dark. IâŚâ
âItâs ok, Honey, Iâll be right there.â
That certainly caught Eddieâs attention. He watched his girlfriend with furrowed brows, confused as to why she became so nervous the second the phone rang, and confused as to who the hell she was talking to on the other line so sweetly.
Once she hung up the phone, she turned to Eddie, her face twisted in guilt.Â
âIâm so sorry,â
Eddie just sighed, trying hard not to reveal his disappointment but he was sure he was failing. He felt like he hadnât had time with her in weeks and he had been looking forward to the Halloween horror night at the drive-in since he bought the tickets last month.Â
Fooling around in the back of his van aside, he just wanted some time with her.Â
A lump grew in her throat as she crafted a lie to tell him.
âJoyce is worried about letting Will go trick-or-treating without supervision.â
âJonathan canât go with him?âÂ
âHeâs busy.â She countered quickly, her skin crawling at how easily she could lie to him, how quickly she could formulate a story to keep him in the dark. âIâm so sorry, I know how excited you were for tonight.â
âItâs ok. The kid needs you.â He assured her, though the lack of enthusiasm in his voice was more than evident.Â
âIâll call you later, ok?âÂ
He nodded, giving her a weak smile. He could see the guilt clear as day in her eyes and he sighed, stepping towards her, taking her hand in his as he planted a kiss to her cheek.
âDonât be so hard on yourself, itâs ok.âÂ
She nodded stiffly, though she couldnât ignore the feeling that Eddie was more pissed off than he let on.Â
âIâll make it up to you, I swear. Next horror movie playing at the drive-in, weâre going.â She told him as he hovered by the door. âIâll even let you feel me up in the back of your van.âÂ
That finally got a grin out of the metalhead.
âCareful, or Iâll think youâre only with me for one thing.â He winked, sending her one last smile before heading out the door.Â
He exhaled loudly, making his way to his van with much less excitement than he had been planning. As he started the engine, mentally preparing himself for a disappointing night ahead of him, a thought lingered in his mind.
Since when does she call Joyce Byers âHoneyâ?
~~
She dove to the cabin well over the speed limit. The moment she slammed her car door shut and began to hurry towards the cabin, she could hear the sound of the locks, Eleven having been impatiently awaiting her arrival.Â
Her heart felt heavy as she stepped inside, the loneliness that lingered in the place overwhelming. She hated that El was stuck here, that she couldnât just stay with her and her dad in their trailer.Â
She wished she could give her the childhood she deserved.Â
As the door closed behind her, Eleven peered out from her room, a sheepish expression on her face.Â
âIâm sorry.â The girl whispered.Â
âYou donât ever have to apologize. I want you to call me, whether because you need me or itâs just to talk cause youâre bored, I donât care. Iâll be here, whenever you need me.â
Elevenâs eyes became glassy and she rushed forward, throwing her arms around the older girl, hugging her with a force that knocked the breath out of the both of them.Â
She could feel the little girl trembling against her, her breaths heavy, as if she were trying hard not to cry.Â
âItâs ok. Iâm here.â She assured her, running a soothing hand through her growing curls.Â
With Eleven in her arms, her previously choking guilt was nonexistent.
~~
A furrow creased between her brows as she noticed the absence of a certain boy as the rest of the group piled into her car.
âWhereâs Will?â
âHe didnât come to school today.â Lucas explained, the tightness in his voice making her tense.
âHe had an episode yesterday.â
âWhat happened?âÂ
âI donât know, he was like⌠in a trance or something.â Dustin explained, his voice morose. âIt was scary.â
Her breath caught in her throat, her body rigid with worry.Â
It had been wishful thinking to believe Will was fine after heâd spent an entire week stuck in the Upside Down. It was quickly becoming clear that her hopes were for naught.Â
The thought lingered with her long after she had dropped the boys off at home. She sat on her couch, her body remaining tense, fighting the urge to drive straight to the Byersâ place and check in on Will.Â
A dread cloaked in paranoia began to creep through her veins. She couldnât help but wonder when the dam would break, when her nightmares became reality once more.Â
The sound of the phone ringing made her jump, breaking her out of her dark thoughts. As Jonathanâs voice greeted her on the other line, it was clear things were going from bad to worse.
âIâm sorry, youâre what?â She questioned incredulously.
Jonathan sighed loudly on the line, looking over at Nancy pleadingly. He really wished she had lost the game of rock, paper, scissors over who had to call the youngest Hopper about the predicament they were in.Â
âI know it sounds crazy-â
âIt doesnât just sound crazy, Jonathan. Were you two drunk when you laid out this plan? You donât know this guy.â
âI know. Murrayâs definitely eccentric-â
âMeaning heâs going to keep your bodies in his basement.â She interrupted cynically again.Â
Jonathan sighed again, the sound making her roll her eyes.Â
âHe can help us expose Hawkins Lab. We have the recording admitting to their involvement in Barbâs death. Murray can get it to the public and we can take them down.â He explained, wincing to himself at how ridiculous their plan sounded when it was said out loud.Â
She paused, biting her bottom lip as she took in his words. She couldnât deny how enticing it sounded to take down the lab. Those cretins were the cause of this mess they were in and they needed to pay.Â
The thought of Nancy and the sadness her friend was facing daily at the thought of Barb had her anger dissipating in a quick moment. Nancy needed closure, she needed the world to know what had happened to her friend.Â
âOk, well, be safe. Donât let your guard down around this guy. My dad says heâs nuts.â She spoke, making Jonathan huff out a laugh.
âYeah, five minutes with the guy and I canât dispute that.â
âGood luck and call me if youâre about to be murdered.â
Jonathan laughed again. âWill do.â
A loud breath left her as she hung up. âThis is so fucked.â She muttered to herself, wondering when she would be allowed to get through a normal day.
â
âFuck, you feel so good.â Eddie voiced whined in her ear.Â
His hips rolled rapidly against hers, his desperation clear in the way he fucked her like he only had a few minutes left to live.Â
He hadnât seen her since she had ditched him on Halloween and, to put it plainly, he was dying for her. When he had picked her up from work just two days after their failed date night, he drove well past the speed limit to get here, her under him on her couch, his aching cock inside her.Â
Her chest heaved, a litany of moans slipping past her lips, her nails digging into his shoulder.Â
Suddenly, the shrill noise of the phone ringing, broke her out of the moment. She looked over Eddieâs shoulder, staring at the ringing culprit. She told herself to ignore it, Eddie fucking her like he was was clearly telling her to ignore it.
But she couldnât get past her instincts that told her someone needed her.Â
âHey,â Eddie panted, his pace slowing as he looked down at her with furrowed brows. âYou ok?â
She nodded, tearing her eyes away from the phone, letting out a short breath as the ringing stopped.Â
âIâm good.â she assured him.Â
Eddie smiled and leaned down to kiss her fiercely, his hips ramping up in pace eagerly, forcing a gasp from her, her head falling back as she gripped onto him tightly, her legs wrapping around his waist, driving him deeper inside her.Â
He groaned loudly, his grip on her thigh strong as he fucked her steadily. He wanted to scream out âfinally!â. He felt more deprived than when he had been a virgin desperately grinding on her leg.Â
Now that heâd gotten a taste of her, it only took barely a day to miss her delectable body.
She could only enjoy the moment for a couple of seconds longer before the phone began ringing again.Â
Her nerves spiked, her arousal dissipating in an instant as alarm bells rang out in her head.Â
âWait, Eddie, stop.â She panted, pushing at his shoulders. He stopped immediately, looking down at her in concern. She hissed slightly as she moved away from him, his hard cock slipping out of her.Â
âWhatâs wrong? Did I hurt you?â
Eddie sat back, his worried eyes following her as she got to her feet, hastily grabbing the blanket from the back of the couch and wrapping it around her nude form as she raced to the ringing phone.
âSeriously?â Eddie called out in annoyance. Whoever was calling surely wasnât more important than what theyâd been doing, what they were finally able to do after a weeks long drought.Â
She ignored him and picked up the phone, Joyceâs frantic voice on the other line.Â
âWhoa, Joyce, slow down. Is Will ok?â
âWill is fine.â She answered breathlessly, her voice tight with fear. âHave you seen your dad?â
âNo, not since yesterday. Why?â
There was a pause on the other line, one that made her heart stop.Â
âJoyce?â She called out, her voice shaking.Â
Behind her, Eddie got up from the couch, his worried gaze locked on her. The fear he heard in her voice had him unbothered about his state of undress. He placed his hand on her shoulder, mouthing âis everything ok?â.Â
âYou need to get over here. Now.âÂ
That was the only explanation Joyce gave her before the line went dead.Â
âFuck.â She whispered under her breath, trying hard to calm her racing heart, to not let her mind wander with possibilities that threatened to destroy her. She didnât spare a look to her naked boyfriend as she pushed past him to get to her room, throwing her drawers open as she hastily dressed.
She always thought of her Dad as untouchable, the one sheâd go to for anything she needed. She felt lost thinking about him in danger. She didnât know what sheâd do if- she couldnât even finish the thought. She exhaled shakily, her hands trembling slightly as she pulled on her clothes.
âWhatâs going on?â Eddie asked from the doorway.Â
âI donât know, but somethingâs wrong. I have to go.â
It was silent for a few seconds as Eddie took in her words. He couldnât help the bitter feeling that began to grow, like an infection that spread uncontrollably, wreaking havoc on his insides. It was uncontrollable, this unexpected frustration that built within him, one that had been permeating for weeks, finally coming to a head as he couldn't ignore this feeling of being unwanted that grew each time she didnât pick up the phone or left him alone.
âRight.â He muttered, his unhappy tone unmistakable.
Finally dressed, she turned to face him, surprised to see the annoyance written across his features.
âRight?â She echoed in the same resentful tone. âWhat does that mean?â
âIt doesnât mean anything.â Eddie shrugged, though his demeanor was anything but carefree. âIâll just get outta your hair. It seems like Iâm in your way more than anything these days, anyways.â
âWhat are you talking about? Why are you angry?â
She flinched. To hear the pet name, one she loved, said with so much derision struck her deeply. An uncomfortable feeling began to grow inside her, like an itch she couldnât scratch that suddenly overtook every inch of her body. Her throat felt tighter as the uncomfortable feeling grew.
âI know Iâve had to step out a few times-â
âMore than a few times.â He interrupted sharply. âIf youâre not giving me some bullshit excuse about why you canât hang out with me, youâre ditching me to be there for everybody else but me. It feels like I donât even have a girlfriend anymore.â
âEddie, thatâs not fair.âÂ
Panic began to claw at her throat, feeling as though she was being crushed under the weight of the many lies she had spewed in the last few months.Â
âWhatâs not fair is feeling like you donât give a shit anymore!â He yelled.
âI canât do this right now.â She breathed out, the need to escape overwhelming her as she tried hard not to let her emotions slip. Now was not the time to let this spiral.Â
âOf course you canât.â
âEddie, please-â
âIs there someone else? Is that what this is? Youâre ditching me to go fuck someone else?âÂ
Eddie knew he had crossed a line the second he saw the stricken look on her face. The anger in him vanished as soon as he saw the hurt in her eyes. He sighed, bowing his head in regret. The thought had popped into his head and the accusation had fallen out before he could stop it.
âI didnât mean-â
âHow could you say that?â She whispered, feeling as though his words had physically wounded her. âYou really think Iâd do that to you? That Iâd let anyone else touch me but you, that Iâd even fucking look at anyone else.â
He knew how hard it was for her to open up to him, to let him in and allow herself to be vulnerable enough to even consider dating him, let alone sleep with him. He knew she would never risk what they had, never even entertain anyone else.Â
âNo! I didnât mean- I was just angry- shit!â He cursed, placing his hands over his face as he breathed deeply, trying to get his anger in check before he said something else he regretted. âItâs just, itâs been hard lately. The whole fucking summer was hard. I feel like youâve had one foot out the door for months.â
Despite the past year with Eddie, despite how much she felt she had changed for the better, that ice cold heart of hers was still there, lingering under the fire Eddie had sparked within her, waiting for its time to crawl back out of the dark hole in her chest. Her anger iced out the flame in an instant, her sadness soon turning to fury as her instincts told her to get out before he could hurt her anymore.Â
âWell, Iâm sorry I havenât been the doting girlfriend you deserve. Maybe youâll have better luck with one of those pretty cheerleaders you used to gawk at.â She spoke sharply, the tone she threw at the idiots at school, the tone she used around those she didnât trust, the tone she hadnât used with him in over a year, not since she had taken the plunge and let him in.
Eddie spoke her name, his voice sounding scared as she made her way to the door.
âI canât do this now.â She yelled out as she barrelled out of the trailer, not brave enough to look back as she made her way to her car.
Her breathing was heavy as she drove, her vision blurring, forcing her to blink rapidly to stave off the tears that threatened to fall.Â
She pushed Eddie from her mind. She ignored the pit in her stomach that made her feel sick and thought of the lie sheâd have to conjure to get herself out of this.Â
Or maybe you wonât get out of this, maybe you lost the chance to ever make it up to him, the ever present destructive voice in her head spoke.Â
The thought had her choking out a sob, the sound pitiful as she thought of what her life would be without Eddie. She wiped her tears furiously, forcing down the inevitable breakdown to become a problem for another day.Â
As she pulled up to the Byersâ house, she took a moment, breathing deeply in an attempt to calm herself, desperately hoping Joyce wouldnât comment on the redness of her eyes.
~~
Her foot tapped against the floor erratically, her arms crossed over her chest, her face drawn tightly with worry. The sound of the doors down the hall opening had her finally perking up, her worry morphing into a protective anger that threatened to destroy anyone who got in her way.
âWhereâs my dad?â She barked angrily at Doctor Owens as he approached.
He raised his hand in a silent gesture to placate her, but it only made her blood boil, wanting to smack it out of her line of sight.
âHeâs alright, heâs just getting cleaned up. Heâll be with you soon.â
She grit her teeth, every bone in her body untrusting of the man before her. Barely a minute later, her father walked through the doors, dressed in scrubs, looking like he hadnât slept in days.Â
Her breath hitched and she was racing towards him before she could comprehend it. Jimâs entire tense body sagged in relief when he saw her and immediately opened his arms, awaiting her to fall into them.
She hugged him tightly, gripping onto him as though she worried he would be ripped away from her.Â
âAre you ok?â She asked, her voice mumbled as she buried her face into his chest as though she were nothing more than a little girl again who had found the only family figure worth a damn.Â
âIâm ok.â He assured her, his hand caressing soothing circles on her back. He had a brief memory of her when she was seven and sick with the flu, as he lay next to her, coaxing her to sleep with the exact same motion.Â
She allowed herself to breathe, feeling as though the simple action was easier now that she knew her father was safe, that she was back in his arms.
âI havenât heard from El.â She admitted quietly, looking up at him worriedly. âIâve called a few times but she hasn't answered.â
Jim felt his throat tighten, but he forced his reaction down, not wanting to scare his daughter with his own fear when she was clearly already shaken.Â
âI shouldâve stayed with her.â She spoke quietly, her voice wavering. âI knew she was upset after your fight but I didnât go-â
âStop.â Jim interrupted, his grip on her tightening. His heart cracked as he heard her sniffle against his chest. âThis isnât your fault. I fought with her, I was the one being an ass.â
He stroked his hand through her hair, wishing he could take her pain away, wishing he knew where the hell El was and calm his racing heart.Â
âI wish you werenât a part of this. I wish you didnât know a damn thing about any of this crap.â He whispered.Â
She stayed in his arms for a few seconds longer, both of them needing the comfort. As they pulled away, she turned her head, discreetly wiping the tears that pooled under her eyes.Â
In the next second, her arm shot out, pushing at his shoulder roughly, though he barely moved an inch.
âWhat the hell were you thinking going down there by yourself?â
Jim huffed out a laugh, relieved to see that familiar spark back in his feisty daughter.Â
âYou really think Iâd send you an invite to that?âÂ
She rolled her eyes and Jim couldâve sworn it was the best sight heâd ever seen. It meant she was still her, that this entire ordeal hadnât ruined her.Â
She stayed glued to his side, latching onto him as they stood in Willâs room, his eyes looking over them with unfamiliarity, as if they were strangers.Â
A lump grew in her throat. She wanted to erase the entire day, to grab the kids, grab Eddie, and get the hell out of town, far away from this mess. Her chest ached at the quick thought of Eddie and she immediately tamped down those feelings, forcing it to the back of her mind. She couldnât bear to think of that now.
As her dad was corralled away by Doctor Owens, she felt herself twitch, feeling untethered as he left her side. She stood in the corner of the room, her arms crossed over herself protectively, her eyes cast down to the floor.
It was hard to be in the room, to look at Will and see those glazed over eyes meet hers, like it wasnât even him.Â
She cleared her throat, stepping forward hesitantly. âIâm gonna see if I can find a vending machine, Iâm starving. You want anything?â She asked Joyce who hadnât taken her eyes off her son as she shook her head.
She stood next to Mike, placing her hand on his shoulder. âYou ok? You need anything?â
âIâm kinda hungry, too.â
âIâll see what I can find.âÂ
She had spared a fake smile to the guards at the door as they reluctantly let her pass and began her trek through the unfamiliar hallways, peeking down each corridor to see if she could spot a vending machine.Â
She was sure the only thing she was accomplishing was getting herself lost.Â
She was left to wander for a few more minutes, failing in her venture to find anything resembling a vending machine, when a blaring alarm sounded, causing her to flinch and stop in her tracks, looking up at the flashing emergency lights in shock.
âWhat the fuck?â She muttered to herself, looking around in bewilderment as Doctors and guards alike began racing past her, pushing her out the way carelessly as chaos erupted.Â
The distant sound of gunshots finally made her move, her heart in her throat as she began retracing her steps, desperate to get back to her family.Â
Already back in Willâs hospital room, Jim was fuming, feeling dizzy, as though he was seconds away from fainting as he noticed her absence.Â
âW-where is she?â He asked, his voice sounding broken, weak with fear.
âShe went to find food.â Joyce spoke quietly, her voice wavering, holding tightly to her sedated son, her son who was slipping further away with each passing second.Â
âWhere the hell is my daughter?!â Jim screamed to no one in particular, tearing at his own hair and he abruptly turned on his heel and stomped out of the room to start his search for her.Â
The sound of screams and gunshots had him stopping for a moment, his eyes wide, his blood running cold with dread. Barely a second later, he was racing forward, sprinting down the hall as fast as he could.Â
Down the opposite hall, Doctors ran screaming as guards shot at the demodogs, bodies falling as they were too slow to escape. His hands shook as he passed each hall, noting only destruction.
âDad!â Her voice screamed from the opposite end of the hall.
He turned so fast he almost lost his balance. The moment his eyes spotted her, he was rushing towards her, latching onto her arm and dragging her in front of him as they ran in the opposite direction of the screams.Â
âAre you hurt?â He asked frantically, his eyes raking over her nervously, looking for any sign of blood. She shook her head wordlessly, too shaken to use her voice.Â
As they regrouped with the others, Jim quickly took an unconscious Will off of Bobâs hands. Joyce hugged her tightly, firing off rapid fire questions.Â
âIâm ok.â She spoke breathlessly, though her shaking form did little to assure the mother.Â
âWe gotta go.â Jim ordered, ushering all of them forward. As they began to run, Mikeâs hands latched onto hers. She held to him tightly, determined not to let go, for her comfort or his, she wasnât quite sure.Â
She let out an involuntary whimper as a shooting guard got taken down mere feet from them.Â
Jim quickly motioned them to the right, finding a surveillance room to hide in. Her eyes latched onto the monitors that displayed the infested hallways.
Her eyes flickered over each screen, her throat constricting as she saw the blurred images of motionless bodies on the floor, the monsters lurking through the halls, bloodthirsty to tear apart whoever was unlucky enough to cross their paths.Â
Her thoughts swam with the darkest vision of getting ripped apart like those poor doctors they saw on the screens. She didnât know how they were making it out of this.Â
She felt like a fog had settled around her, one that blurred everything around her in an effort to protect her as she was coming to terms with her more than likely impending death.Â
Her eyes stayed locked onto the monitors, even after the power had been lost and they were nothing more than a blank screen, only half listening as her father and Doctor Owens devised a plan.Â
âHey,âÂ
She flinched at the sound of a soft voice, turning to see her Dad watching her worriedly.Â
âYou with me?âÂ
She nodded minutely, the only answer she could give because she was sure her Dad wouldnât appreciate hearing the truth, that she was seconds from spiraling.Â
She flinched as the lights flickered back on, the buzz of the doors unlocking sounding, Bob successfully having brought the power back on. It was time to make their move.
Jimâs hand hovered over the door knob, pausing before opening the door to spare a look back at her.Â
âStay close.â He told her forcefully. She nodded shakily, her heart thumping within her chest as she mentally prepared herself to brave the dangers outside the door.
Mikeâs hand was latched onto hers, gripping her tightly as they crept out into the abandoned hallways. They stayed barely a step behind her father who had a still unconscious Will over his shoulder. She felt Joyceâs steady presence at her side, her hand on her shoulder, refusing to be separated as they moved quickly through the halls and down to the main entrance.
She could feel Mike trembling beside her, his eyes wide with terror and she tightened her grip.
âItâs ok.â She whispered to him, knowing no matter what happened to her, no harm would come to him. She would make sure of it.
Her heart picked up in pace, a feeling of hope unfurling in her stomach as they saw the doors ahead. Her dad held the doors open, urging them to move first, his haste clear as he practically pulled her out of the building, before laying Will down.Â
She got to her knees beside him, Mike quickly moving to his other side, protecting him as they waited for Bob. They waited anxiously, the minutes passing torturously slowly.Â
Suddenly, the piercing sound of a scream tore through the air. Her dad rushed inside and the sound of the gunshots that followed made her flinch violently, but she rushed to her feet, instinctively running towards her dad.Â
She pushed through the doors and her feet stopped in their tracks at the sight before her. Bob lay on the floor, the demonic form of those monsters on top of him, blood spraying in a display that made her feel sick.
âWhatâs going on?!â Mike screamed, looking at her with worry, starting to get to her feet, but she raised her hand towards him.
âDonât!â She yelled, the sheer horror in her eyes making him freeze.Â
The sound of Joyceâs screams were like knives, making small cuts within her that leaked poison in her bloodstream, making every inch of her ache. Her heart wrenching wails for her lover constricted her chest until it felt as though she couldnât breathe.
Quickly stepping out of the doors, eager to relieve herself of the gory sight, her entire form trembled as she practically tripped over her own feet in her haste to rush out into the cool night air. Her dad cradled a distraught Joyce as the monsters threw themselves at the closed doors, desperate to get to them, to tear them apart like they did Bob.
She wrapped her arms around Joyce as her father left her side to grab Will. The woman collapsed into her arms, her body shaking with the force of her cries. She felt her own eyes sting and it was all she could do to hold onto the woman as her world crumbled around her.Â
The incessant honking barely registered to her, but as she looked up to see Jonathan in the driverâs seat, yelling at them to get in she didnât bother to question just what the hell he was doing there. Her feet were moving before she could process it.Â
She was more than willing to leave the horror of Hawkins Lab behind her.
~~
Her hands wouldnât stop shaking. She was left in a haze, the noise around her nothing but a dull hum. She sat at the table, as if in a catatonic state, not listening to a single word of what was being spoken in front of her.Â
The hivemind, the demodogs, the mindflayer, none of it meant a thing to her.Â
No matter how worried she was for Will, she couldnât force her mind anywhere but that moment, the blood and the screams lingered in her mind on a loop that made her want to tear her skin off.Â
From across the table, Nancy watched her with a frown, noticing the vacant look in her eyes, the way she was hunched in on herself, not at all like the spitfire of a girl she had become friends with.Â
As the plan was set in motion, a group of them hauling Will into the shed to start their interrogation, she stayed by her friend, taking the spot next to her.Â
She placed her hand over hers when she noticed it trembling, jumping herself when her friend flinched at the feel of her touch.Â
âSorry.â Nancy apologized immediately. âAre you ok?âÂ
âNo.â She answered monotonously. She took in a shaky breath, her expression tortured. âWhy is it always us?â She asked hollowly.
Nancy frowned. It wasnât fair, that the fate of this stupid town rested on their shoulders, that they were the ones wrapped up in a scandal no one else would ever believe.Â
With a heavy sigh, she straightened, her expression shifting, as though a mask was placed over her features, hardening them into a facade of determination. âI should be in there with them.âÂ
She began to stand from her seat, but Nancyâs hands stopped her, dragging her back down to the chair.Â
âThey have it covered. You donât need to do anything but sit right here.âÂ
She looked over at her friend, her face shrouded with uncertainty. âI donât know what to do.â
âI donât either.â Nancy admitted, placing her hand over hers once more, smiling softly as she didnât receive another flinch this time around.Â
Suddenly, the shrill ring of the phone sounded. Nancy was on her feet in an instant, tearing the thing right out of the wall before it could make another sound.Â
âShit.â Dustin muttered.Â
âDo you think he heard that?âÂ
She got to her feet shakily, her daze breaking as a new threat posed, a new fear igniting within her, one that, thankfully, didnât keep her paralyzed. She didnât have time to linger in her thoughts when the kids were in danger.
The sounds of distant roars had the hairs on her arms raising, her breath hitching as she realized they were in for another fight.Â
âHey, get away from the windows!â Her dad yelled as he stormed into the room, gun in hand.Â
âGet over here.â She spoke sternly, ushering the kids towards her, standing in front of them protectively as her dad and Nancy stood front and center with their guns drawn.Â
The noises outside the house became louder, the monsters just outside their window. She felt hands gripping onto the back of her shirt and she reached out behind her blindly, her heart aching as she felt a smaller hand take hers, squeezing tightly in terror.Â
They all yelled in fright as a monster flew through the window, shattering the glass, though it posed no threat as its limp body fell to the floor.Â
She looked down in confusion, though her head snapped back to attention, her eyes wide with fear as the click of the lock sounded and the latch on the door turned, opening slowly.
Her heart stuttered within her chest as her eyes met the gaze of Eleven. Her lips parted in surprise, the relief flowing through her making her dizzy. Â
She longed to storm across the room and pull the girl into her arms and never let go. She watched with a smile as she hugged Mike, tears welling in both of their eyes as they held onto each other tightly.Â
Over his shoulder, their eyes met and the girl smiled. The second she was out of Mikeâs arms, she stepped toward her, falling into her arms.Â
âAre you ok?â She whispered and Eleven nodded, her grip on her tight, making her worry reach new heights. She placed a hand on the back of her head, used to running her fingers through her curls, a move she had quickly come to realize gave the younger girl comfort, but was surprised when she found her hair gelled back.Â
She pulled away and looked down at her with narrowed eyes, her excitement at the mere sight of her seconds ago keeping her from really taking her in.
âWhat the hell are you wearing?â
Elevenâs face twisted with worry. âI-Is it bad?â
âNo, no! You look beautiful⌠just surprised.â She assured her quickly.Â
Eleven smiled softly, though something lingered in her eyes, a darker, more conflicted look that stirred anxiety within her.Â
She bent down, now eye level with the girl, looking at her carefully. âAre you sure youâre ok?â
Eleven nodded again, the look in her eyes not ceasing and she scurried into her arms again.Â
Looking down at her in concern, she hesitated, her stomach turning at the possibilities that ran through her head about what the hell had happened to her. She wrapped her arms around her, holding her against her, frowning at the tight grip the girl had on her, like she didnât want to let go.Â
She shared a look with her dad, their mirrored expressions of worry unsettling.Â
~~
She was sure she had pissed someone off in another life to be stuck on babysitting duty with Steve Harrington.
Her father, ever the protector, didnât let her go with him and El to close the gate and she didnât think she could stomach watching what they had to do to Will, so that left her to watch the kids with the unfortunate company of King Douchebag.Â
But Steveâs company might have been better than Mikeâs given the way he was refusing to look at her.Â
They sat together on the couch, his body sat as far from her as possible, his posture turned away from her so obviously, she was sure it was uncomfortable for him.Â
âIâm sorry.â She spoke up, breaking the awkward silence between them.Â
âFor what?âÂ
She repressed the urge to roll her eyes at his tone.Â
âYou know what. Youâre pissed at me and for good reason. I would be pissed too if I were you.â She continued, but he still refused to look at her. âYou know why I couldnât tell you. I know youâre smart enough to understand the risks of that secret getting out. I couldnât risk Eleven getting hurt.â
Mike seemed to soften at her words, at the prospect of her protecting Eleven. He finally looked over at her, his eyes dimmed of the anger they previously held.Â
She smiled softly, knowing he would forgive her when he was ready, that his anger would disappear as soon as Eleven was back safe and sound.Â
Taking the moment of peace, she headed to the bathroom, relieved to have a chaos-free minute alone. Though it didnât last long as she heard raised voices from the next room.Â
She sighed heavily as she hastily buttoned her pants back up. âCanât get two fucking minutes.â She muttered under her breath in annoyance.Â
Stepping out into the living room, she heard the kids' eager voices making a plan to sneak into the upside down to draw the demodogs away.
âWhat the fuck is going on here?â She snapped, making them flinch and turn to face her nervously, knowing theyâd be pushing their luck trying to convince her of their plan.
Her glare moved to Steve who stood with his hands on his hips looking exasperated.Â
âI leave you alone with them for five seconds and theyâre making plans for a suicide mission.â
âI didnât agree!â Steve defended himself.Â
The sound of an engine from outside derailed her line of questioning as Max, the new addition to the group, ran towards the window, her face drawn tightly with nerves.Â
âItâs my brother.â She spoke fearfully. âHe canât know Iâm here, heâll kill me.â
âGreat.â Steve muttered under his breath.
âWho is he?â She asked, sensing there was a history between him and whoever Maxâs brother was.Â
âYouâre lucky you graduated when you did. Hawkins High got a new resident douchebag.â
âYou got dethroned?â She poked sarcastically, only causing Steve to give her a wiry smile, clearly not amused, and stepped outside to confront the man.Â
She stayed back, watching through the window behind the kids, her arms crossed over her chest as she contemplatively took in the sight of someone who, by his own admission, was worse than King Steve.Â
She couldnât fathom the thought.Â
But she would soon learn as Steve was thrown to the ground and the stranger kicked the door open, storming into the house with a fury. The kids quickly got behind her, leaving her frame to try to block the four of them from the hothead.
âWho the fuck are you?â
His face shifted at the sight of her, not having recognized her from school. His anger morphed into something that looked much worse if the sight of his smirk was anything to go by.Â
âBilly Hargrove.â He smiled charmingly and was surprised to see the look in her eyes darken, a look of disgust permeating her features. âI havenât seen you around before. Iâd never forget a face like yours.â
She sneered, wishing she could puke on demand to give him the most obvious hint of her disinterest she possibly could.
Billy looked over her shoulder at the redhead cowering behind her and let out a scoff.
âOnce Iâm done with that shithead, Iâd be more than happy to get back to you.â
âIf that dirt stache youâre trying to grow is any indication of your capabilities, Iâm really not interested.âÂ
Billyâs smile shifted, becoming less charming and filled with derision as he took offence. His gaze moved past her once again.
âI thought I told you to stay away from him.â Billy spoke darkly, sending a glare to Max. His eyes shifted to Lucas who was taking hesitant steps backwards, like he was trying to silently slip out of the room.
The tone of his voice caused every hair on her body to stand to attention, an edge of discomfort growing. She understood immediately, her expression hardening in an instant. She took a step forward, getting nose to nose with Billy.Â
âYou should leave.âÂ
He chuckled, his eyes raking up and down her form, forcing her to repress a shudder.Â
âAnd whoâs gonna make me, you?â
She grit her teeth, her hand clenching into a fist, seconds away from drawing blood, before Billy was grabbed by his shoulder and turned abruptly, just in time to meet Steveâs fist.
She jumped back in shock, ushering the kids further away so they didnât get wrapped up in the crosshairs.Â
As the two of them began fighting, delivering blow after harsh blow, she hovered a few paces behind, wondering if she should get involved, if she could realistically help Steve or only end up with a black eye.Â
Mike yelled her name from across the room, catching her attention. âDo something!âÂ
She grit her teeth, muttering a curse under her breath, her eyes darting around the room, looking for anything she could use to subdue the brute that was Billy Hargrove.Â
She rushed into the kitchen, her hands scrambling across the counters, eager to grasp anything she could use to subdue the brute. She suddenly paused, looking at the pile of dirty dishes in the sink.Â
She pulled out a large butcherâs knife, a look of intrigue in her eyes. Mikeâs gaze fell to the weapon in her hands and the interested smile on her face and his eyes widened.
âNo.â Mike warned.
âWhat?â She asked in disbelief.Â
âWe wanna stop him, not kill him.â
She rolled her eyes and tossed the knife back into the sink, reaching for a colander instead. It wonât cause as much damage but she was sure itâd still be satisfying.Â
She rushed over to the fight, where Billy straddled Steve, raining down brutal punches, his fists never faltering. She winced at the sight of Steve bloodied beneath him, the sudden feeling of pity for him confusing.
With a mighty swing, she bashed the colander against Billyâs head, watching with glee as the man fell to the side with a groan of pain.Â
She gripped onto her âweaponâ, ready to take another swing as Billy stumbled to his feet, his eyes filled with fury locking onto her.Â
She suddenly felt a little push at her side, the redhead stepping past her. Before Billy could find his footing, Max shoved the needle theyâd been using on Will to keep him subdued straight into her brotherâs neck.
Her eyes were wide as saucers, entirely shocked as Billy fell to the floor with a heavy thud.Â
âHoly shit.â She breathed out, looking at the new addition to the group before turning back to the boys who huddled in the doorway, their faces holding mirroring expressions of shock.
âWhere the hell did you find her?â She questioned with a smirk and turned back to the girl who looked satisfied by her actions. âI like you.â
The redhead smiled bashfully under her praise before she cleared her throat and straightened her shoulders, her expression becoming more determined.
âSo, are you gonna help us with our plan or what?â
~~
âI canât believe you let them talk you into this.â Steve grumbled from beside her as they walked through the tunnels of the upside down.Â
âThey were very convincing.â She defended. âBesides, itâs a good plan. We gotta be useful somehow.â
That seemed to shut him up and they continued walking in silence, their heads turning every few seconds, making sure they had all the kids accounted for following behind them.Â
Steve cleared his throat, suddenly realizing how awkward it was being in such close proximity to her, fearing when his luck would run out and heâd be on the receiving end of one of her infamous right hooks or her venomous tongue that would no doubt leave him in tears after the week heâd had.
âThanks for⌠earlier.â He started, looking over at her nervously. âYou know, knocking Billy off me.â
âOh, yeah, it was nothing.â She shrugged off the praise, feeling as though something was deeply wrong in the world for Harrington to be thanking her.
âWell, I appreciate it, you know, after everything.â
âYeah, well, I might not like you, but I wasnât about to let you get killed. Especially not by a guy with a mullet. Thatâs just humiliating.â
Steve snorted out a laugh. An ease grew between them as they continued to walk, Steve no longer fearing for his life beside her and she no longer felt dirty just being in proximity to the ex douchebag.
They made it to the hub that connected the tunnels, quickly getting to work in drenching every inch of it with gasoline. She looked to Steve, giving him an encouraging nod as his shaking hand held the lighter.Â
He threw the flame, igniting a raging fire among the vines that seemed to scream and rage in protest.Â
âLetâs go!â Steve screamed, pushing the kids ahead of them as they ran, trying their best to retrace their steps in the desolate tunnels.Â
As they ran, the walls around them began to shake, causing them all to lose their footing. She reached out, grunting as Maxâs weight fell into her, gripping her tightly to steady her back to her feet.Â
âWhat the hell was that?!âÂ
The kids all looked around frightfully as the distant sound of roars echoed through the tunnels. Her breath caught in her throat, dread overtaking her like a wave desperate to pull her under.Â
âGo!â She yelled, her tight grip still holding to Max as they raced forward. The moment the rope they descended from came into view, her and Steve got to work, quickly helping to hoist the kids up one by one.Â
When it was only Dustin left and the sound of the monsters was so achingly close for comfort, she gripped onto him, practically dragging him to the rope.
âMove, quickly.â
âNot without you.â
âDustin, donât make me use my mom voice. Get your ass up the rope, now.â She spoke through gritted teeth, her nerves haywire, her adrenaline rushing through her veins.
Dustin hesitated for a second longer, his eyes boring into hers with a look of dread, cursing under breath before finally relenting, stepping into her cupped hands to propel himself upwards.Â
They watched Dustin climb, the both of them letting out sighs of relief as he reached the opening of the tunnel.Â
The sound of the monsters got louder, making her flinch. Her eyes found Steveâs, the two of them sharing a look that spoke a thousand emotions as they prepared themselves for what was to come.Â
She swallowed against the lump in her throat, her hands gripping the rope as she squeezed her eyes shut.Â
Her mind was blissfully blank, her emotions too overwhelming to focus on in the face of imminent danger.Â
A sound of surprise fell past her lips as pressure against her legs made her stumble. In front of her, Steve gripped onto her shoulders, steadying her. She peeked her eyes open and looked down in shock, watching as the demodogs raced past them, paying them no attention.Â
Sheâd seen what theyâd done to those doctors, what they did to Bob. The fact that they werenât ripped to pieces didnât make sense.Â
She shared a look with Steve, their eyes wide, their chests heaving with heavy breaths.Â
They werenât about to wait for their luck to turn and quickly got to climbing up the rope to get the hell out of the upside down.Â
âJesus, we thought you two were goners.â Dustin said as he practically threw his arms around both of them the moment they got to their feet on the right side up.Â
âYeah, so did we.â Steve spoke hoarsely.Â
They were all stunned, driving back to the Byersâ place in silence, their adrenaline still rushing through their veins, leaving them with a high-like energy they had no idea what to do with.Â
Mike was quick to get on the phone, calling the cabin to check in with Will. They all let out collective breaths of pure relief at the news that the mindflayer was out of Will, that he was ok.Â
The next call came from the lab, the sound of her dadâs voice soothing every one of her anxieties. Eleven had closed the gate. The monsters were dead. They were safe.Â
It was finally over.
As she gave everyone the news, the relief was palpable, the shock wearing off, leaving only fear at what they had gone through, how close they had come to facing death at the hands of those monsters.Â
The kids had gone quiet, cleaning up the mess left in the Byers home without a word.Â
Looking at their faces, she could see the fear deep within their eyes, the trauma that lingered from their brush with danger. She knew they would never admit their weakness. Even at such a young age, they were too brave for their own good.
âHey,â She called out softly. âMy Dadâs gonna be with El for the night, stay with her while Dr. Owens checks her out. I donât really wanna be alone, you guys wanna stay with me?âÂ
Dustin was the first to perk up, eagerly nodding his head.Â
With a plan in place to call their parents and make up a story about a sleepover at each of their houses, they all began to pile into her car.Â
She opened the driverâs side door when a hand on her arm stopped her. She flinched and sent a hard look to Steve who immediately lifted his hand in surrender, his face drawn tightly with nerves.
âSorry.â He mumbled. âWould you mind if- itâs just⌠I donât really wanna be alone either.âÂ
She paused, looking at him curiously. She had never seen King Steve so morose before. Everything that had happened that night had steadily changed the annoyance she used to feel the second she even looked at him.Â
As she looked at him now, looking more vulnerable than she ever expected to see, his face bruised and bloodied, she found there was no hint of annoyance or anger, nothing like how she used to feel for him. The only thing she felt now was that it was like looking in a mirror.Â
She was sure she looked just as beaten down as he did, on the inside at least, she didnât have a mark on her from her confrontation with Billy like he did.
âOk.âÂ
They were all silent as she drove them all to her trailer. A part of her suddenly felt embarrassed that King Steve would soon be in her ratty trailer, but another part of her, one that spoke louder than the rest of her thoughts, was too exhausted to care.Â
Once they were at her trailer, she searched for every blanket and pillow they owned, lining the living room floor with bedding, knowing no one would want to part from each other.Â
âYouâre staying out here, right?â Dustin asked, sounding slightly frantic as he laid down in his spot by the couch.
She smiled sadly, reaching out to ruffle his hair. âYeah, Iâm staying here.âÂ
He nodded, sending her a grateful smile before settling in under the blankets.Â
The kids spoke amongst themselves quietly for a while until their voices trailed off, leaving nothing but the quiet sound of their breathing as they fell into a deep sleep. It left just her and Steve awake.
She didnât spare him a look as she nestled into her spot on the floor, throwing the blanket over her and gearing up for a restless night. It was silent for a few minutes, though she knew Steve wasnât asleep. She could hear each rustle of the blanket as he tossed and turned, unable to turn his brain off enough to let sleep pull him under its spell.
She had seen a different side of him that night.Â
âHey,â She whispered, catching his attention. âI know I havenât been very nice to you⌠ever.â
Steve huffed out a quiet laugh. âYeah, well, itâs not like I was any better to you.â
She just shrugged. She couldnât care less about the highschool days, no matter how near they were behind her.Â
âLook, after everything tonight⌠youâre not as bad as I thought you were.â
Steve looked surprised at her words. He was sure this was the first time he had never not been intimidated by her.Â
He smiled softly, the tension between them effectively broken as they found common ground in their roles protecting the kids, a feat they were both ready to die to accomplish.Â
He sent her a nod, to which she just sent one back with a sight roll of her eyes and settled in her spot.Â
Steve blew out a long breath, no longer feeling as though the air between them was suffocating.Â
He had lost his girlfriend, the very foundation he stood on, but he hoped he could say he walked away from this nightmare with a friend.Â
~~
She didnât have the luxury of stopping the world because of what theyâd been through. She was due back to work first thing in the morning to open the diner just one day after running for her life from demonic alien dogs.Â
She still couldnât quite wrap her head around the whole thing.
Stifling yet another yawn, she unlocked the front doors to her unfortunate place of employment, sending a wave to Gary, the grey haired cook who was just pulling up in his rusty pickup. Heâd been working in the diner since before she was born and she was sure he was the only other person who hated the place more than she did.
It was a slow morning, barely five patrons coming in in the span of two hours, something she was grateful for. She didnât think she had the energy to put on even one more fake smile.
Besides pouring refills of coffee and sliding plates of greasy food to the few tables taken, she spent most of her time sitting at her stool at the counter, a book in hand, but as her eyes roamed the pages, her mind was on nothing else but the last few days.Â
It was different this time.Â
Of course, Barbâs death had shaken her, but she hadnât seen it. Seeing the soldiers get taken out by the demogorgon had been terrifying, but they were the bad guys. She had never been right there to watch a good man get snuffed out so brutally before.Â
Joyceâs screams as Bob was torn apart still lingered in her mind, churning her stomach to the point she wondered if sheâd ever eat again. The thought made her want to laugh darkly. Leave it to hunger to be the thing that killed her after all the bullshit sheâd been through in the past year.
Her hands tightened on her book when she noticed them beginning to tremble.Â
Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to re-read the last page sheâd ignored, hoping it would get her mind off the horrors sheâd been exposed to, but it was useless. No matter how hard she tried, no matter how many words she read, they meant nothing, they did nothing to stop her mind from reaching bloody memories.
The chime on the door sounded, giving her another chance of distraction.
Slamming her book down, she stood from her seat, internally psyching herself up to place a fake smile on her face in the guise of kindness, but she stopped as she saw who was walking through the door. Her lips parted in surprise as Eddie approached the counter, his hands in his pockets, a sheepish smile on his face.Â
His eyes didnât meet hers as he spoke a quiet âheyâ in greeting.Â
âWhat are you doing here?â
âCame to see you. Figured we should talk.â He spoke quietly as he took a seat, sounding so unlike himself. She didnât think she had ever heard him so quiet before.Â
Seeing him lost of all anger had her hopeful and suddenly incredibly regretful of how sheâd stormed out on him.
âIt must be pretty important. Iâve never seen you up this early on a Sunday.â She drawled, a small smile growing when she saw his own gracing his beautiful lips, the ice between them effectively breaking.Â
âYeah, I didnât sleep at all last night. Havenât stopped thinking about yesterday.â
She wished she could say the same thing, but the fight with Eddie had been the last thing on her mind in the past twenty four hours. She wished a fight with her boyfriend was her biggest problem.Â
âIâm so sorry.â Eddie breathed out, looking up at her with wide eyes full of nothing but grief. âI never should have accused you of⌠that.â He couldnât even speak the words, they made him want to throw up.Â
She let out a long breath, the reminder of what heâd said that night, thrown at her so sharply, was like a knife to the chest.Â
âI know you would never, I know youâre not like that. I just - I dunno what the hell I thought - I was just spiraling, being an idiot⌠as usual.âÂ
âYou donât have to apologize.â She said quietly, feeling unworthy of his words, of the way he looked at her with such sincerity.Â
After all the lies sheâd told him in the past year, she didnât feel she deserved them.Â
âNo, I do. I went crazy, it wasnât fair to you.â
âI wasnât being fair either.â She admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. âIâve been keeping things from you.â
Eddieâs blood ran cold as he shifted in his spot, looking at her nervously, suddenly fearing the worst. He always thought she was too good for him and was waiting for the day she realized it, he just wasnât ready for it to be now.
âItâs nothing about us, I swear.â She assured him quickly, stopping his fears in their tracks. She reached out to place her hands over his, her heart bursting as he immediately intertwined their fingers, his thumb running circles over her knuckles affectionately.Â
Her heart raced within her chest as she mentally worked through the half-truth she could tell him, the story she could spin to give him just a fraction of clarity. It was all she could give him, but it was better than nothing.
She couldnât keep going on the way she was.Â
Sparing a look at the other patrons in the diner, she bit her lip nervously. She let out a shaky breath and quickly tore her hands from Eddieâs, rushing to poke her head into the kitchen.
âIâm going on break!â She called out, not bothering to hear an answer, before she was rushing back to Eddie, who was looking bewildered at her sudden move.Â
She grabbed his hand, pulling him off his stool and dragging him out of the diner. He could only follow in silence, his nerves on edge, his mind racing with what she could possibly tell him.Â
He couldnât help but think the worst.Â
She stopped once they were around the corner of the building, facing the almost empty parking lot. She leaned up against the brick wall, staring up at him nervously, her hand refusing to let go of his.Â
She needed the courage his touch provided if she was going to get this out. She took a deep breath, her mind frantically piecing together what she could tell him.
âLast year, my dad worked a case that was⌠pretty intense. It involved a lot of bad people. Honestly, he doesnât really like to talk about it.â She began, her fingers tapping a nervous rhythm against the ring he wore on his thumb.Â
Eddie listened intently, watching her carefully, his stomach twisting at the faraway look in her gaze.Â
âThere was a kid involved and my dad kinda took her in. She doesnât have anyone else so my dad decided to be her⌠guardian, I guess. I donât really know what to call it.âÂ
That certainly hadnât been what he was expecting to hear, but it suddenly put all the pieces in place.
âThatâs whoâs been calling you?â
She nodded wordlessly and Eddie placed his hand over his face as he blew out a long breath before suddenly letting out a small laugh in disbelief.
âSo Iâve been jealous of a little girl this whole time?â
She could only give him a weak smile in return, still trying to gauge if her half truth was enough to assure him.
âGod Iâm an idiot.â He breathed out.
âNo youâre not. How could you have known? You had every right to be suspicious.âÂ
He looked at her intently, his eyes soft, effectively chipping away at the coldness that she had adamantly built up during their fight.
âIâm sorry I didnât tell you sooner, just with all the red tape and the secrecy-â
âItâs ok, I get it.â He assured her, quickly pulling her into his arms.Â
She let out a shuddering breath, feeling as though every inch of her body could finally relax, that she could finally take in a much needed breath as he held her tightly. Feeling her practically melt against him, he smiled, holding her tighter, his anxious brain finally quieting.Â
âIâm sorry I was such an ass.âÂ
She laughed slightly, nuzzling into him closer. âItâs ok. It was bound to happen at some point.â
Eddie laughed, more relieved than he could have imagined. He let his arms fall, his body instinctively getting ready to separate so she could get back to her job, but she refused to let him go.
He looked down at her curiously, his brows furrowed. It wasnât like her, he was usually the clingy one, refusing to let go of her until she physically had to remove him from her body.Â
He slowly wrapped his arms around her once again, holding her tightly.
âSorry, I just⌠give me a few more minutes.â She said, her voice muffled by his chest.Â
He smiled softly and nodded, more than happy to continue holding her.Â
He had no idea the storm in her mind, he had no idea of the horrors she had witnessed just hours ago. He didnât know she held him so tightly because she was terrified it was only a matter of time before he gave up on her and the baggage she had to carry in secret.Â
~~
As always, thank you for reading and sending love to this story, it means the world xx
jacobvanloon
areudirty
andulkaphoto
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