STRANGE DARLING 2023 | Dir. J. T. Mollner

Spicy links that gave Logan vibes..

Simply a selection of P!rn links, all sourced from twitter, whilst i continue working on a couple new full pieces! (And as a cheeky lil thanks for all the recent love!!)

Masterlist

Warnings?: explicit content, fem reader? cunnilingus, unprotected sex, piv, fingering, mention of nudes? Riding? Cum? Wade mention, threesome mention? Moment of aftercare? Idk man.. Its just alot of prn..

Soft, giggly mornings being woken up by Logans mouth (cunnilingus)

Relaxing and giving each other a hand.. (Also known as mutal masturbation)

Logan making you cum on his tongue pt2 (cunnilingus + hand holding)

Logan just being a tease touchin his girl (+a mirror)

Nice and deep, making his pretty girl feel good (topping from the bottom)

Taking pictures with logan. (Nudes)

Logans desperation breaks through (makeout + cunnilingus)

Making a mess all over his pretty girls pussy (painting you with cum)

Wade cleans up you and logans mess (threesome/cunnilingus)

Aftercare cuddles (happily wrapped in his arms)

destiel // donut seam - adrianne lenker

this whole world is dying don't it seem like a good time for swimming?

masterpost for easy findings

wolf hybrid breeds lost bunny hybrid

used by your friend’s parent

witch accidentally summons the wrong demon

pirate fucks voiceless mermaid-turned-human

cockwarming turns into bathroom fucking

stepmom punishes you for being a brat

mean stepsis making you cry on her cock, part 2

college gym coach is extra hard on you

pent-up roommate using your ass for release

dance captain gives you a warm welcome

brother’s roommate fucks your ass in secret

boyfriend’s stepsister eats your holes

insatiable succubus breaks and breeds innocent fae, part 2

wolf!hybrid roommate uses your holes whenever he wants

ruthless queen ruins your ass and makes you her slave

witch roommate needs help after a spell-gone-wrong

best friend sells you out to a demon

camgirl roommate and her boyfriend featuring you

orc hunter claims your holes

demon and succubus filling up your holes

best friend and her stepmother fills your womb

evil queen uses orc pet to interrogate you

little miss too-many-wips has a new concept:

jacaerys' twin sister (younger by minutes, but long enough to be the spare) is sent north to negotiate with cregan stark (jace is kept near rhaenyra while they make war plans). she authorized to arrange marriages, including her own, to ensure that the northern army remains in the black's corner. she's not prepared for the wry wit, strength of presence, and frankly absolute rugged viking appearance of the young lord of winterfell. so, when he suggests a wedding between them to demonstrate the unwavering loyalty of the north to rhaenyra and her own support for them assured as queen, she has no problem agreeing to it.

so, she weds cregan in the godswood and he declares his and his bannermans support for their true queen (now his mother in law to boot) and news reaches winterfell not two full weeks later of lucerys' death. she wants to go to dragonstone immediately but can't, as it might be too dangerous flying over the bay. so she bides her time but eventually she runs away and leaves a not apologizing and explaining for cregan, that she needs to help her family in the way she can as a dragonrider, that she will be reunited with him when his army reaches the south.

i'm imagining so scenario where she's been captured by the greens and we get a cregan stark in full terrifying calm rage like "where. is. my. WIFE?"

EDIT I've written 8.3k words now

A man with a reputation; masterlist

- thomas shelby + arranged marriage!trope

1. a man with a reputation

; you cannot talk your way out of this, for the first time of your life , you're given no choice

2. an introduction

; you meet your husband to be for the first time

3. office scandal

; polly takes you with her to run an errand

4. the color green

; you've met tommy's secretary, who has a thing for him.

5. the shelby charm

; tommy demonstrates his charm on an unsuspecting girl.

6. entanglement

; your fate is now sealed

7. a perfect fit

; you and your family plan for the engagement party

8. desperate measures

;you finally take on the role of the tomm's bride-to-be.

9. different yet the same

;nothing stays the same, but how can you explain that to the people you love?

10. future mrs shelby

;the dreaded day arrives

11. my mother's daughter

; you and your mother get into a heated argument

Baby, No Attachment

Reluctantly, you met Steve's eyes, that stupid smirk ever present on his lips as he drank you in. If you could melt into the floor at that moment, you absolutely would have, his stare burning into you, reminding you of that cool, summer evening you first met.

"Are we going to do this or not, Harrington?"

or; the 5 times Steve Harrington was an asshole to you, with the 1 time, he revealed his true self.

cw: 18+ mdni; smut, unprotected sex, fingering, oral, cream pie, squirting, angst (what's new), mean!Steve, Steve talking you through it once again, slight Eddie x reader, 13.7k+ words. (+ part two) (+part three)

The boy you knew as your neighbor was quiet, yet quick in your neighborhood. Always on the go, never home, only when his parents were gone did you see him moving behind the windows of the two story Harrington home. Girls were reoccurring, a different one every week, countless times you’d seen the flash of a different bra-clad blonde or brunette in between parted curtains.

He was known as Steve, King Steve, the enigma of a man you only knew personally through rumors floating through the halls of Hawkins High. His cocky ego shining through shitty friends, the closest you would know to the truth behind the rumors.

Your first interaction with him was quick, the silhouette of his body dropping from his window as he tried sneaking out for the umpteen time that week. You heard a low groan as he landed wrong, curses escaping his lips as he found his way to his feet.

You were leaning against the vineyard covered wall of your own backyard, watching him through the cracks in the wooden fence separating your properties. A cigarette lay in between your fingers, the heat of it reaching your fingers as it continued to burn in your grasp.

“You good there, Harrington?” You asked, taking a slow drag as you saw his mop of hair pop up over the fence. A grimace was covering his face, a bruise over his nose and right eye. That’s different.

“Yeah, yeah, just perfect,” he replied, tucking a strand of his hair behind his ear. He barely glanced at you, running his fingers through his mane, settling it back into place. He brushed off his shoulders, muttering curses under his breath as he smoothed his clothing. You stared at him, cocking your head as you took in the sight before you.

You hummed in response, exhaling smoke as he seemed irritated in the moment. He didn’t know what to say to you nor you to him, as it was the first conversation you ever had since you’ve moved next door. It had only been a few months, but he had been the only one you heard anyone speak about.

“Aren’t you a little too young for that?” He asked you, stretching a hand over the fence as he signaled for you to hand him the pack. He seemed like a concerned father figure in this moment, irritation crossing his features even further than they did previously.

Looking down at the box between your fingers, you shrugged, feeling the cool, summer wind hit your body. The sun was setting, the golden rays casting a halo around his perfectly set hair.

You crossed the small distance between houses, pressing your frame to the fence as you held eye contact. You saw his throat bob, gulp barely audible as you centered your ground. Placing a cigarette between his outstretched finger tips, you smiled at him.

“Never too young for a little fun, Harrington,” you muttered, tracing your eye line over the fresh bruises. The cigarette gets placed between his lips, damp red meeting the yellow toned paper.

Steve rolled his eyes at you, patting down his pockets as he searched for something.

“Light?” You questioned, waving your own cigarette in the air around you. His eyes followed the movement, another sigh escaping from him.

“Yeah, come on, sweetheart,” he mumbled, craning his neck over the fence as he awaited your next move.

Smirking, you leaned forward, pressing the burning end of yours to his unlit. Faces inches away from each other, he took a few quick breaths, his cigarette slowly being lit from your own as he guided his eyes over your features.

His deep brown eyes bore into your own, a dark bruise beginning to set right on the bone. Strange enough, he seemed pretty with it, the contrast of colors and tones bringing out flecks of amber hidden in the iris.

Pulling away, he took a deep breath, smoke filling his lungs as he draped his arms over the wooden boards.

“Haven’t seen you around much,” Steve said, fingers tapping out ash. You watched as it floated in the wind, slowly walking backwards until your back hit the brick wall you previously stood against.

“Can’t stop seeing you,” you replied, squinting as you gestured up to the second story of his house. He followed your point, noticing how his bedroom window was directly across from your own. A smirk pulled at the corners of his mouth.

“You’ve been stalking me, princess?” He asked, tongue darting out to run across his exposed teeth. You flushed in your face.

“Oh, don’t get shy on me now,” he continued, parting his lips to take another puff of the tobacco. Grumbling, you hid the smile that was threatening to burst out at his flirtatious behavior.

You snubbed your cigarette out, Mary Jane pressing into the concrete as a small billow of tobacco smoke pooled around the leather.

“I’m just making conversation, Harrington. We are neighbors after all.”

He nodded, eyes trained on you as they roamed over the length of your body. Only suddenly now did you feel self conscious over the short plaid skirt you wore.

“Say,” he began, lip briefly being sucked in between his teeth. “Let’s just bypass all that, and you could get to know me more as a … friend. A close friend.”

Closing your eyes, you laughed aloud as your head hit the brick behind you. The rumors of this Steve were materializing right in front of you. You opened them, only to be met with Steve’s gaze, smirk on his lips and cigarette pressed against his bottom lip as he slightly covered his face.

“Is that what you’re gonna call it?”

Two could play at this game, you figured.

“9 pm? I know a real nice spot by the lake,” he winked, making an ‘okay’ gesture with his thumb and forefinger. “Ladies love it, or so I’ve heard.”

“Or so I’ve heard,” you mocked him, laughter bubbling out of you. He followed your laughter, chuckling low as the breeze picked up around you.

“I could show you a real nice time, sweethe-”

“Steven!”

His head suddenly turned towards his open window, a woman’s voice calling out to him from somewhere deep in the house. It sounded like Mrs. Harrington’s voice, the memory of it from moving day when your parents forced you to bring over that homemade cherry pie. The smirk dropped from his face as he took a quick hit from the cigarette before flicking it somewhere behind him.

“Gotta go, princess,” he ushered, running a hand over his hair. He backed away from the fence, turning to duck on the side of his house.

He made it a few steps before quickly returning to his previous spot.

“Don’t wait up,” he called out, causing your smile to falter slightly. You covered it up, hoping to go unnoticed by him. “I might be a while before coming back, so don’t get your hopes up, princess.”

And with that, Steve Harrington was gone. The only evidence that he had even been there were the sounds of his footsteps crunching the gravel and the faint start of his BMW in the distance.

It shouldn’t have hurt you as much as it did when you didn’t hear from him that night. 9 pm came, then 10, then 11, next thing you knew, it was past 1 am with your window cracked open. You didn’t know what you were waiting for, a rock thrown at the glass or a whisper from below or for him to even burst through the bedroom door, anything to signal that he was to be true in his words.

He had told you after all to not wait up for him, to not get your hopes up, so it wasn’t his fault that you were feeling the way you did.

It definitely shouldn’t have hurt that much when you woke up in the middle of the night, still in your clothes (that you definitely did not pick out for him), to the sounds of a girl giggling. You squinted at your alarm clock, noticing it was nearly 3 am, the only light filling the room from the moon shining in the sky.

You crept to your window, straining your eyes in the darkness to see Steve and another random blonde making out with a fever as his hands snuck beneath her top. Her back was turned to you as his mouth licked into her, only separating to pull her top over her head before pressing his mouth to her neck.

As his teeth grazed a spot on her skin, his eyes fluttered open, making eye contact with you. They seemed to light up, an upward quirk of his mouth.

You pulled your curtains shut, heart beating rapidly as you realized he had completely seen you watching him. His stalker joke earlier ran through your mind, embarrassment flooding your cheeks.

Fuck you, Harrington.

A few weeks had passed before your next interaction with Harrington boy, the summer hours ticking by slowly as you searched what to fill your days with. People watching in downtown became tiresome, the same groups of people making their errands around the same hours. The town was so mundane to you, atypical families with their 2-3 kids, the most action that had happened was a 12 year old stealing from the Mini-Mart on 3rd.

You refused to acquaint yourself with the people in town, finding the same interests in them something you would never have in common. That is, until Eddie Munson came around. Town freak, ostracized by many, quirky, over dramatic, seemed like a theatre kid despite never stepping on stage a day in his life.

He did his thing, sold whatever to whoever, while you sat in his van and looked pretty, listening to the rock music he was so drawn to. You didn't have much in common, but you really didn't need to. What brought you two together was the fact that Hawkins did not really accept either of you. You were still the new girl who had transferred at the end of junior year, and he was the super senior, one that did not seem like he was leaving Hawkins High anytime soon.

You sat in the front seat of his van, feet up on the dash, hands resting up by your head as you reclined low in the seat. He drove recklessly, barely paying attention to the road as his fist came up to bang at the stereo, music skipping periodically.

"Come on, man," Eddie muttered, cursing low under his breath.

You laughed at him, shaking your head at his antics, a thing you had gotten used to during the last few weeks. Trees flew past you as he made his way down winding roads, blurs of greens and yellows barely visible. The roads grew familiar, the route he normally would take when he was bringing you home at 4 am.

Squinting, you sat up in your seat, bringing your feet off of the dash.

"Where are you going, Munson?" A familiar building past you, next thing you knew, he was pulling up on your street. He flashed a wicked grin your direction as he threw the van in park, your house in the near, yet far distance. "I'm serious, Eddie."

"I'm making a special delivery," he winked at you, eyes wide as he reached towards his black aluminum tin. Glancing out of the window, you searched for any sort of noise, normally used to the 'special deliveries' being towards parties.

"Here?"

He gave you a 'mhm' in response, hoping out of the van as he made his way towards your house. You sat in shock, mouth dropped open in confusion as he swiveled around, waving his arms at you as you sat frozen.

"You coming or not, Yn?" He shouted, causing you to scramble out and shush him. Whether or not you were ostracized by the town or not, you had a profile to keep up. Rumors of hanging out with him were one thing, but being seen on one of his deals was another.

You jogged to catch up to him, arms crossing over your chest. Glancing down at your outfit, you realized what an odd pair the two of you made. Eddie, in his black ripped jeans, leather jacket and jean vest. You, in your mini skirt, maroon colored Mary Janes over socked feet, and cream sweater, cut off right below your elbows.

"I swear if you're delivering to my little brother, Eddie, I will kill you," you muttered, shaking your head as you struggled to keep up with his long legs. He cackled at you, shaking his head as the two of you continued on the trek to the house.

Your porch light was on, mirroring Steve's house next to it. There was no way your brother was that bold with your parents car in the driveway.

"Try again, Skipper," Eddie mocked you, finding humour in the way you often had to practically skip to keep up with him. You continued following him, jaw dropping as he walked over the Harrington lawn, converse scuffing over the tiled walkway.

"Oh, there's no way, Munson," you protested, shaking your head vehemently as his hand rose to knock at the door. He furrowed his brow at you, stopping his hand in his tracks as he stared, confused at your apprehension. You dropped your voice to a whisper. "I'm not going in there!"

"What's the big deal?" He dropped his voice to match your volume, glancing around him as if he was expecting someone to be eavesdropping.

"I just- I can't do it," you muttered, stepping closer towards him. Your voice was barely audible at this point, "Steve's in there."

His mouth was parted as his features were drawn up. His fist was inches away from the door about to knock, and pure confusion was written all over him.

"What?"

You huffed, rolling your eyes, "I said, Steve's in there." A red flush covered your cheeks as you dropped your gaze.

"And why are you being weird about it?" He asked, knuckles rapping at the door quickly as you yelped. Before you could make a run for it, the double doors swung open, the devil himself making an appearance. You turned around quickly, turning your back to him before he could meet your eyes.

"Munson." You heard Steve greet him, Eddie humming in response as you felt like disappearing. "Oh, hey there, princess."

"Princess?" Both you and Eddie spoke at the same time, nerves present in your voice and disgust in his. You turned around on your heel, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as Eddie glanced in between the two of you.

Reluctantly, you met Steve's eyes, that stupid smirk ever present on his lips as he drank you in. If you could melt into the floor at that moment, you absolutely would have, his stare burning into you, reminding you of that cool, summer evening you first met.

Opening your mouth to reply, you couldn't help, but immediately close it, losing all words to say. You noticed how his bruises had healed, revealing perfect skin and those big, brown eyes.

"Are we going to do this or not, Harrington?" Eddie's patience had run thin, voice irritated as he shook the tin in his hands. The contents made a loud noise, breaking up the tension in the air between the two of you. Steve rolled his eyes, cutting his gaze to the long haired teenager.

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Munson," he muttered, stepping aside to let the two of you in. Following Eddie, you walked in, high on his heels. Hearing the giant door shut behind you, you took a look at the house, it being much bigger than your own upon entry. You and Eddie followed Steve as he made his way into the living room, a small group of teenagers you recognized sitting in various spots around the room.

"Party's here!" Steve joked, urging a crowd of cheers from them. As Eddie went to make his deals with the other teenagers, you found yourself standing in the corner of the room, hands clasped in front of you as you were unsure of what to do.

That was the difference between you and Eddie, while you were both awkward and quiet, Eddie had a way of being himself through and through. He could blend into any social situation, his loudness faking confidence that allowed people to either love or hate him. You preferred silence and politeness, normally standing in the background of your parents in their social gatherings.

"Didn't take you for a drug dealer, sweetheart," you heard Steve's voice behind you, causing you to jump where you stood, heart racing in surprise. He laughed, hand coming up to rest at your shoulder. "No need to be nervous, 's just me."

You glanced down at his hand, noticing the way it fell to his side the second your gaze landed upon it.

"I'm not," you answered, taking a small step back as this man was so deep in your personal space. "I'm just friends with Eddie."

"Hmm," a thick hand came up to scratch at his chin, and you couldn't help, but watch it as his fingers stretched out. A watch covered his wrist, the metal stretching over skin as a few loose hairs poked out from beneath his sweater. "Never knew the freak's first name."

Rolling your eyes, you turned towards Eddie, watching as he sat there flirting with a blonde girl. She was recognized as a cheerleader, her high ponytail swinging as she cocked her head, laughing at one of his jokes.

"Yeah, well, his name's Eddie, so..."

You didn't know what to say to this man, your last conversation flowing through your recent memory. His empty promise of hanging out with you that day sat in the forefront of your mind, that day being when you swore off the thought of entertaining the idea of him. Thinking of the memory had your fingers itching, the need for nicotine having your mouth water as your nerves got the best of you.

"We could have a smoke in the meantime, while he, uh," Steve seemed to read your mind, glancing over at Eddie continuing to make his deal. He was making a fool of himself, trying to impress that blonde. It seemed to be working as she giggled, tucking a strand of her bang behind her ear. "He, uh, finishes up."

"I've been trying to quit," you said, shutting down the flirtatious tone in his words. Steve quirked an eyebrow at you, smug look on his face.

"I see you smoke every night, sweetheart," his voice was low as he took a step towards you. You couldn't maintain eye contact, pursing your lips to stop the smile forming.

"You've been stalking me, Harrington?" You shot his own joke back at him, noticing the way his eyebrows shot up at you, recognizing the line. He laughed, shaking his head as he held up a finger at you, shaking it side-to-side in a 'No'.

"Nuh uh, sweetheart," laughter evident in his voice. "But I could, if that's what you're into."

You giggled out loud this time, hand coming up to cover your mouth. Your elbow rested at a hand that covered your chest, toe digging into the ground below you as you felt his eyes graze over you.

"Come on," he said, grabbing your hand as he began to lead you towards the sliding glass doors that led to his backyard. A red head girl made a low whistle towards the two of you, causing Steve to lightly smack her on the side of the head as he passed her. "Shut it, Carol."

The air was cold as the two of you stepped outside, summer breeze gently flowing through the layers of your clothes. You breathed into your hands, rubbing them together in hope that warmth met you. He led you towards that same side of the house where you first met, the memories from that first evening flooding back even more as your bedroom windows sat above the two of you.

Steve pulled a near empty carton of cigarettes out of his back pocket, opening it to pull one out. Placing it to his lips, he lit it, taking a deep inhale as the tobacco hit his lungs. His shoulders dragged in relief, as he exhaled, smoke swirling in the air around him.

"So, where've you been, princess?" Steve questioned, passing the cigarette to you as you looked around the backyard. It was much bigger than what you could see from your bedroom window.

"I could ask the same for you, Harrington. I've been around," you looked towards your bedroom window, the light still being on, just as you left it, and the window ajar as your curtains were slowly drifting out into the wind.

"Oh, you know, here, there," he wiggled his eyebrows at you, stepping closer to you as he welcomed the cigarette out of your hands. "Why stay home, when the world is at your fingertips?"

Rolling your eyes at him, you watched as his mouth parted, allowing smoke to flood in. He watched you under hooded eyes, tongue darting out to trace over his bottom lip. Your heart skipped a beat, ringing present in your ears.

"You could make yourself sound like a real pretentious douchebag sometimes, Harrington," your tongue mimicked his own, a quick glance at his plump lips.

A slow smile came across his lips, "You're into that, though?"

You shook your head, losing all words as he stepped closer to you. His hand came to rest at the wall behind you, his broad shape towering over yours as he looked down at you. The hand with the cigarette rested under your chin, pushing your head up so your eyeline paralleled his own.

"Then why are you here, princess?"

You fluttered your eyes shut as he leaned in, his lips brushing over yours as you felt his breath over you. The soft touch of skin had your heart racing, the only thing in your senses was the scent of Steve, tobacco and cinnamon.

Parting your lips with his tongue, Steve pushed his figure into yours, mouth covering yours. He tasted sweet, like cherry cola as his tongue found its way into your mouth. Your fingers fisted at the front of his sweater, pulling him further into you.

A breathy moan escaped him as he pressed you into the wall, his leg parting yours as you leaned up on your toes to reach his mouth. You felt him flick the cigarette off somewhere to your left, his now free hand resting in your hair to bring you in closer.

His teeth nipped at your bottom lip, a low grunt coming from his mouth as your hand dropped to his lower abdomen, lightly rubbing at the area as you dared to press lower. His hand dropped from your hair, resting at your waist as he pushed the material of your sweater up, exposing the tiniest amount of skin.

You gasped into his mouth, as you felt his fingers brush the skin there.

"Really, Skipper?"

Eddie's voice had you jumping away from Steve, your body pressing into the brick of his house as he reluctantly took a step backward. He looked smug, thumb coming up to swipe at the wetness of his bottom lip. You brushed your hair into place, yanking down the rise of your sweater.

Steve let out a laugh, shaking his head as you hurried over towards Eddie's side. Eddie was looking at Steve in disgust, eyes squinted low as he reached up to wrap his arm around your shoulder. The cool leather of Eddie's arm contrasted the warm cashmere of Steve's sweater, you noted, it felt off.

"We gotta go," Eddie muttered, dragging you away from the side of the house. You felt like a little kid being chastised by your father, embarrassment replacing any other emotion you felt previously.

Eddie led you through the house, arm on your shoulder as Steve followed behind you two. You didn't know what to say as you avoided the curious gazes of a few teenagers in the living room. Their eyes were red with intoxication, the thick smell of marijuana filling the room.

Eddie swung open the front door, urging you out as he sighed heavily, the dramatics beginning to come.

"Eddie, don't start," you breathed, rolling your eyes as he gaped at you.

"You fucking kissed, Harrington, Yn," he flailed his arms around, aluminum tin swinging around with them. "Steve! Steve Harrington!"

"It's not that big of a deal, Eddie," you blushed, chewing on your thumb nail as he continued to shout Steve's name at you.

"Oh, but it is, princess," Eddie mocked Steve's nickname to you, rolling his eyes as he huffed at you. The front door was still wide open, if he didn't keep his voice down, you were sure he was going to hear you. "You don't know him like I do, Yn. Steve isn't--he's not that type of person."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" You rose to your defense, irritation beginning to pool in the pit of your stomach.

"Just believe me when I say it, Yn. He's just-" Eddie took a deep breath, rushing a hand through his long curly hair. He seemed to hear something that moment, ear tilting towards the open door as you stood impatient. "Just listen."

"Listen to what?"

"Listen!" He shouted to you, pointing in the direction of the house. You could hear whistles in the background, small cheers from the various teenagers in the house.

You could hear Steve's voice amongst the others.

"Finally, you got your hands on the newbie." Your heart dropped, not recognizing the voice. Meeting Eddie's eyes, his dark brown were filled with a stone cold emotion.

Steve's laugh echoed through the room, "Tommy, shut up."

"Before you know it, Tommy, all you're going to hear is 'Oh, Steve, yes, yes, yes!" the same high pitch squeal from the red head from before was mocking the tone of your own voice. Her laughter drowned out the sound of your own heart beat in your ears. "She'll cave like every other girl in this town. Remind me, Steve, how did I escape the Harrington charm?"

Eddie tugged at your shoulder, urging you to move from the scene back to the comfort of his beat down van.

"Come on, you don't need to hear the rest of it," he muttered, shaking his head as he took a few steps down the entry way. You shook your head, feet planted, hoping once more that Steve would come to your defense, even though you had no reason to believe so. He had left you hanging up on your first meeting, disappointment becoming your best friend.

"I don't even know her name. Hanging with 'The Freak' Munson, don't think it matters."

Those words from Steve were all you needed to hear before you were storming down the path, Eddie's hand loose in your own as you dragged him down the driveway. The clicking of your shoes on the pavement echoed through the air, Eddie quickly behind you as he was the one that struggled to keep up this time around.

You pulled at the door handle of the van, lips pressed in a thin line as Eddie took his time unlocking it. Swinging your body in, you crossed your arms over your chest, refusing to make eye contact.

"Look, Yn," Eddie began, key hovering over the ignition. "Your house is right there, if you want to just..."

"Just go, Eddie. I don't want to be here right now."

You turned your body towards the window, ignoring the silence that filled the air. Sucking your teeth, you pressed your forehead against the cool glass, closing your eyes. This time around, you could forget about Steve, he wasn't that type of person as Eddie had put it, whatever type of person you thought he was. That much was clear.

"Mom, I look ridiculous."

You pulled at the pink dress you wore, its itchiness scratching at your neck. The billowing sleeves screaming at you as you took a glance at yourself in the reflection of the car door.

Your mom was standing next to you, adjusting her earrings as she leaned over to look at herself in the passenger side mirror. She rubbed her ring finger over her red lipstick, sucking at her teeth as she made sure her teeth were clean. She stood up to look at you, swiveling around to place her hands on your shoulders.

Giving you a once over, she hummed, pinching your cheek.

"You need just a little color in your cheeks, and you're perfect," she made a kissy face towards you, smiling in her infamous 'fake-rich' smile, as you called it. "Doesn't she look perfect, honey?"

Your dad hummed in response, locking the car as he made his way around the vehicle. "You look beautiful, darling."

Rolling your eyes, you looked down at the kitten heels on your feet.

"Why doesn't my brother have to come to these?" You complained, sighing as your mouth pulled at a few strands of hair that framed your up-do.

"He's hanging out with those kids he met at school. That young boy with the oddball mother, Joyce, I think her name is," your mother smacked at a piece of mint gum, focused on the fly aways that hung around your face. You smacked her hand away, grumbling as she titted at you. "Ah, Yn. Behave."

"I'm not 12, Mom, I don't need to show face at these events."

"I do realize this, darling. But if you ever want to make friends, how do you think it'll happen?" She turned away from you, following your father as she made her way across the pavement. You reluctantly followed in her footsteps, stiff in your movements as your feet hurt from the heels.

"I do have friends." Your face flushed a deep red.

"Uh uh, Yn. That one boy does not count, I do not want you hanging around him anymore," your mom continued, hand coming up to fluff up the back of her hair. She constantly adjusted herself, worried about the whispers of other stay at home moms and gossip mills of people her age. "Ever since I walked in on the two of you doing Lord knows what-"

"Mom!"

"You were doing what now?" Your father raised an eyebrow in your direction, your eyes avoiding his strict gaze.

Your mom ignored him, patting at his arm as she stepped in front of him, making her way up a driveway.

"We had clothes on, you're so embarrassing," you grumbled, crossing your arms as she turned to knock on a front door. She turned towards you, knocking your arms down as you rolled your eyes once again.

"Barely, darling. I don't like to think about it, it gives me premature wrinkles," she quipped, attitude dropping as the door swung open. "Mrs. Hargrove! Lovely to see you!"

You made a face, mocking her fake excitement as your parents stepped into the house. Immediately, you were met with the scent of flower scented perfume, cigarette smoke, and champagne. It was a soiree of adults around Hawkins and their teenagers they had dragged out, celebrating the middle of summer as the more unwelcoming months sat lingering in the distance.

You kept close to their sides, taking a glass of champagne in open arms as Mrs. Hargrove offered you all a few glasses. In public settings like this, you were 'allowed' to drink as long as you kept it to a few glasses.

Time passed by slowly, you introducing yourself to a few families, fake laughing at their jokes, lying to their faces about questions of college, and promising to come over their places, in which you knew you would never end up baking them that ever famous cherry pie your father raved about.

Escaping your mother’s side had you letting out a breath of fresh air, finding solace in the foyer where a tray of champagne flutes sat. A few groups of couples stood around having conversation that didn’t pay you any attention.

You felt a hand pull at your elbow, knocking you back slightly as you reached for your third glass of champagne that night. Looking at the person, you raised your eyebrow in confusion.

It was a blond with long, curly hair, a split in his eyebrow and a light dusting of facial hair over his face. His silver earring caught your eye, tucked deep in the curls that hung around his face.

"Want something a little stronger?" He questioned, flashing you a glimpse of a flask in his pocket. You looked around quickly, corners of your mouth quirking up as he wiggled his eyebrows to you.

"You're going to get us in trouble," you laughed, lowering your glass as he poured some of the contents in it. He glanced around as he poured, winking at you before putting it back in his pocket.

"From the looks of it, you like a bit of trouble," he smiled, grin wide as he showed his pearly white teeth towards you. He chewed on a piece of gum, tongue darting out every now and then. He shot out a hand towards you, waiting for your grasp. "Billy."

You took it, not breaking eye contact as it felt firm in your grasp. "Yn."

"New girl, right?"

You nodded, fighting the eye roll that came at the words. Ever since your last interaction with Steve, you couldn't stand the words to describe you. It had been nearly half a year since you came, so you figured these words would have warned off by now.

"Me too," Billy sighed, shoulders square as confidence exuded off of him. "My family just moved to this shit hole last month. You know, welcome party and all."

You hummed, agreeing with him as he described the state of the small town. It wasn't terrible, but it wasn't your favorite. It was just like any other fake mid-town American city you had visited before.

Taking a sip out of your flute, you grimaced at the taste, the strong liquor overpowering the softness of the champagne. It earned a laugh from Billy, his cologne wafting off of him. The urge to find out more about this boy piquing your curiosity.

Before you could say anything, a hand came to snake around your shoulders. Snapping your head, your heart sank, that ever familiar scent of cinnamon and tobacco covering you. Steve smiled down at you, cockiness in his movements.

"Hey, princess," he kissed the air in your direction before settling his eyes on Billy. Immediately, you saw the change in demeanor, two alpha males seemingly in an attempt to intimidate one another.

"What are you doing here, Harrington?" Billy straightened up, voice low as he addressed the teen. Steve licked his lips, tightening his arm around you.

"What? Invitations cut off at the Harrington home?" Steve questioned, rolling his eyes at the blond in front of him. You pushed at Steve's side, heart fluttering at the way his grip tightened on your shoulder as you did so. His scent was overwhelming, cologne making you nearly lightheaded.

"Why don't you go fuck off elsewhere, Harrington, find someone else to bother," Billy stepped closer to the two of you, your alarm bells going off as you realized this stand off was a little more personal than you. Your eyes widened as Steve's smile dropped from his face, arm coming off of your shoulder as he stepped closer to Billy.

"Make me, Hargrove."

The two of them stood in a silent stand off, searching each other's eyes as no one dared to make a move. You stood back, admiring the view of the two men. You had to admit they were attractive, their display of dominance having you slightly blushing. Taking a sip of the strong concoction in your hands, you eyed the two men, waiting to see who would cave first.

You didn't have to wait long, your mom intercepting herself.

"Oh, Billy, sweetheart. I think your mom needs something in the kitchen," she smiled, patting at his back as he broke eye contact from Steve. The confidence that flowed off him earlier was broken, anger filling his blue eyes.

"She's not my mom," he mumbled, shoving Steve out of the way as he pushed past the two of you.

Your mom frowned, eyes trailing his path. "What an angry, handsome young man."

Steve snorted, his own gaze following the direction in which Billy made his way. Your mom reached over to you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Smacking at her hand, you mouthed 'mooomm' at her, embarrassed if Steve had noticed.

"You're the young Harrington boy," your mother beamed at him, hand reaching up to brush against the single curl that hung over his forehead. Steve's height even towered over her, his head ducking down to meet her grasp. You flushed even further at that gesture, your hand coming up to rest at the heat of your forehead.

"And you must be Yn's sister, nice to finally meet you," Steve grabbed her hand, bringing it up to his mouth to press a gentle kiss to the back of it. Your mom was blushing at this point, the Harrington charm having its effect on her.

You rolled her eyes at the two of them, your mom swatting at his chest as he laughed politely. Tuning them out, you took another swig of your glass, fighting the grimace as Steve attempted to flirt with your mom.

He had your mom laughing, giggling like a school girl at his comments about her beauty. It was like you weren't even there, your mom forgetting she was a married woman as Steve charmed her.

"Yn!" Your attention was brought back to the conversation, your mom's voice drunk off of Steve's attention. "Why didn't you tell me you had dropped that goth boy for Steve here?"

You were confused, eyes flitting back and forth between the two. You had obviously missed a part of the conversation, key information that had you wondering. Steve brought a hand to your waist, pulling you into him. You stiffened in his arms, hand coming up to rest at his chest as you managed to keep a little distance between the two of you.

"What are you talking about?"

"Steve! He said he was taking you out tomorrow night!" Your mom gushed, clasping her hands together at her chest as she looked between the two of you. You knew she wasn't excited for his words or the fact that it was Steve, she was excited if it meant you didn't associate yourself with Eddie anymore. She never had a strong affliction for his long hair or his rock music or loud van that pulled up too late in the middle of the night.

"He is?"

"I am, princess, remember?" Steve questioned, rubbing small circles on your lower back. Your knees almost buckled under you as goosebumps stretched over your body. His eyes glanced at your mouth briefly, not going unnoticed.

"No, refresh my memory, Harrington." You shot back, irritated at the reaction your body had.

"Yn." You heard your mom's voice warn you about your tone. You ignored it, focusing on the tall boy in front of you.

"Me, you, tomorrow night. 7 pm, if it's alright, Mrs. Yln?" He briefly addressed your mom, gaze shooting to see her eager nod. Returning his eyes to you, he began to smile. "There's that new movie out that I know you've been dying to see. You couldn't tell me enough about it."

"Oh, is that right?" You kept your words short as Steve's hand dipped lower on your waist. His fingertips brushed over the top of the curve of your ass, earning a small gasp out of you.

"That's right, sweetheart," his eyes wrinkled at the corners as he smiled down at you, dragging his fingers even lower. His gaze didn't falter as he waited for a reaction out of you.

"Aren't you two the cutest. Little love birds," your mom enthused, reaching up with both hands to pinch at your cheeks. She turned on her heel, walking away from the pair of you to engage with a couple a few feet behind her.

As soon as she was lost in the crowd, you pushed Steve away from you, ignoring his laugh as you stormed towards the front door. You needed to be away from him, he was an ass, lying to your mom like that, lying to you like that. You made your way out of the door, fresh air hitting your hot, flushed face.

Letting out a choked exhale, you closed your eyes, running your hands through your hair. You ripped out the clip that held it up, shaking it out as you caught your breath. Your arousal at the earlier situation pooled in your belly, heart beating fast as you were met with conflicting emotions.

"Yn?"

Swiveling around, Steve was standing behind you, hands tucked into his pockets.

"You're such an ass, Harrington."

He shook his head, looking down at his feet as you glared at him. Continuing your words, you couldn't help, but want to hate him in the moment.

"What the hell was that? All that lovey dovey shit in there? Scaring off Billy?"

Steve's eyes shot up in your direction, face turning up at your questions.

"Billy's a real piece of work, Yn. You don't want anything to do with him," he said, dragging his eyes over your chest. You looked down, pulling up the collar of your dress as it dipped down, exposing a little too much of your breast bone. He wasn't helping his case much.

His words reminded you of your conversation with Eddie that night, his warning of the type of person Steve was.

"Like you aren't? Because I want something to do with you," you retorted sarcastically, beginning to walk towards the end of the driveway. Steve's footsteps trailed behind you, irritating you even further before you huffed and leaned against a random car. He stepped in your space, shoes almost brushing your heels as you looked up at him.

He made a quick glance in the direction of the house before leaning in, pressing his mouth to yours. His hands found your hips, hoisting you up on the hood of the car before finding his place between your hips. Moaning into the grasp, you were caught off guard.

Your mouth moved against his, hands finding the hair at the nape of his neck as you pulled him against you.

Pulling away, he rested his forehead against yours.

"Wear something pretty tomorrow, princess," he pressed a quick kiss to your mouth before pulling you completely away, making his way towards the house.

You sat there dumbstruck, cool metal of the car seeping through the material of your dress. Lips tingling, lower belly wanting more, you squeezed your eyes shut, thinking about how stupid you would be if you believed Harrington for the third time in a row.

Eddie’s voice was low on the phone as you sat in your towel, window wide open as you felt the cool air of the night makes its way in. Madonna played on the stereo in the back, her voice blending with the sound of chirping crickets.

"You sure you can't come over tonight?"

A smile tugged at the corner of your mouth as you listened to his whine.

"No, I can't, I'm under house arrest," you complained, rolling your eyes as you flipped onto your back. The phone cord wrapped around your wrist, your free hand coming up to twirl at it.

A static-filled voice came through the phone line, you recognizing it as your moms, "No, she can't go tonight, Edward."

Heat filled your cheeks as embarrassment pooled in your chest. You pulled the phone away from your ear, covering the end.

"Mom! Get off the phone!" You screamed, hearing your mom scream something back at you from downstairs. The phone line clicked as Eddie laughed, a deep chuckle echoing through your ears.

"She really hates me, doesn't she," Eddie said through his laughter. You closed your eyes, tightening the towel around your chest.

"No," You lied, gritting your teeth. Eddie didn't need to see you to hear the blatant lack of truth in your words.

"You're such a liar, Yn. I recognize hate when I see it," he said, you could hear the eye roll in his words. You tried not to think of his words, the mention of hate being a word he was so so familiar with.

"She just doesn't like your tattoos," you said, stretching your limbs out across your bed. Your towel peaked open slightly, exposing your upper thigh. The air felt cool against your skin, urging your eyes shut as you relaxed into your sheets. "And maybe your van or your long hair-"

"Or the music or the trailer or the drugs," he continued, laughing as he heard your giggle through the line. You heard something at your window, distracting you from Eddie's continuation of his speech.

Before you knew it, a mop of hair popped up at the open window, Steve's brown eyes glancing around your room. You gasped, sitting up as you gripped onto the thin towel that covered your body.

"You okay, Yn?" Eddie's voice brought you back to the phone, your eyes focused on Steve falling through your window. He hit the ground with a thud, a low groan escaping him as the wind gets slightly knocked out of him. "Yn?"

"I gotta go, Eddie." You said, pulling the phone away from your ear. You heard his rushed, 'wait, who is that?' before you put the receiver on the hook.

Your fingers gripped your towel, squeezing your legs together as Steve rose to his feet.

"What are you doing, Steve!" Your voice was low as you heard your mother making her way up the stairs. Eyes trained on the door, Steve followed your gaze, rushing over to lock it quickly. The knob jiggled, your mother's concerned voice sounding through the door.

"Honey? What was that? Are you okay?"

Steve had his palm pressed to the wood, eyes wide as he looked at you.

"I'm fine! Just dropped my ... bag?" You said, flipping Steve off as he furrowed his brow at you. He mouthed, 'really?' in your direction.

‘Shut. Up.’ You mouthed at him, ignoring the way he looked at you incredulously.

"That Edward kid better not be in there!" Your mom yelled, doorknob jiggling again.

"Mom!" You screamed back, closing your eyes in frustration.

"I mean it, Yn!" She said before you heard her footsteps walk away from the door. Steve waited a few beats, before turning to you, hands on his hips. His eyes roamed your body, the air feeling a little too cold as you realized you were just in your towel.

"Well, well," he said, smirk toying at his lips.

"What are you doing here, Harrington?" You avoided eye contact with him, standing up to grab the closest piece of clothing you could drape over your body. You opened your closet door, blocking the view of him as you slipped the item over your body. It was a sun dress, albeit on the smaller side as you meant to return it next week.

Stepping out from behind the door, you rubbed the towel against your damp hair, cheeks flushed.

"I said 7 pm, remember?" He looked at his watch, wrist raising up as he tapped on the small screen. He pursed his lips at you, eyebrows raising as you realized it was a quarter past the time.

"I didn't think you were serious," you muttered, crossing your arms over your chest as your nipples began to harden in the cool breeze of the room. Steve's eyes followed, slowly dragging his eyes away to return to your face.

You sat on the edge of your bed, tightening your frame as Steve made his way to sit next to you.

"I always keep my promises, Yn," He whispered, hand coming up to rest at your thigh. You gasped as you looked at him, barely noticing the bruise forming underneath his right eye. Your thumb came up to brush against it, his hand stopping your movements just as you made contact with the skin.

"What happened?" Your voice was a low whisper as he held eye contact, a more solemn look on his face. You could recognize a specific look in his eyes, something he tried to cover up with his confidence and flirtatious advances.

"Don't worry about me, princess," he muttered, leaning into you. His scent filled your airways as his lips kissed you. His mouth was soft, making you melt on the spot as he licked into your mouth.

Moaning softly, you welcomed his touch, feeling the way his fingers tangled into your hair. His tongue ran over yours, lapping inside of your mouth as your breath became more and more heavy.

He pulled away, pressing a kiss to the corner of your jaw. Arching your neck back, your hand came to curl up at his hair, fingers digging into his scalp, eliciting a moan out of the man.

"Steve," you moaned, eyes fluttering closed as his mouth made a trail of marks down your jugular. Each touch felt like heaven's kiss, warm breath soothing the harsh marks he made. He pulled away from you, you pouted at him, dropping your gaze to the plump, redness of his mouth.

"I think that's the first time you called me my name, princess," he whispered into the air, hand coming to cradle the back of your head. A soft smile, different from his cocky smirk, crossed his face. He looked nice like that, you figured.

Returning his mouth to yours, he pushed you down on the mattress, towering over you as he maintained his assault to your mouth. The kiss became more rushed, Steve panting into your mouth as he hovered over you, hand slowly pushing up the material further up your thigh.

His fingers danced at the crease of your groin, your legs opening wider before you could even think about it.

"So eager, princess," He muttered against your mouth, reveling in the way you moaned his name. His fingers ran up the length of your slit, his smile at the wetness he was met with. "Already?"

"Shut up, Harrington," you grumbled, rolling your eyes at him. His eyebrows raised at you, his mouth dropping open to mirror yours as he pressed a finger inside. Holding eye contact, you moaned at the feeling of him inside you, his thick digit sending shock waves through you.

"I know you love it, princess."

His words added fuel to the fire, his finger moving deep within you as he searched for that sweet spot inside of you. Not taking long to find it, your back arched up into him, a loud moan escaping you.

"Shhh," he said, leaning on his elbow to press a hand to your mouth. Your face twisted up in pleasure as he fingered you, another digit pressing at your entrance as you opened up for him.

"Don't want mommy coming up here and finding you like this," he continued his taunts, your eyes fluttering shut as his fingers hit that pleasure point over and over. Whiteness pooled through your system, your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

As his fingers stretched you out, you felt him rut against your thigh, thick jean-covered bulge urging more wetness out of you. The idea of him being turned on by this was bringing you closer to the edge than his fingers were.

His thumb came up to rub at your clit, a breathy sigh against his palm escaping. Your thighs were shaking at his point, his fingers quickening as he realized how close you were.

"Gonna cum for me, baby?" He questioned, smirk coming back to watch the look on your face. You nodded rapidly, mewling under his touch. Small moans came out of you, hips moving in sync with his fingers pumping in and out of you.

"Bet you want to cum on me, huh, sweetheart? Feel fucked out against my cock, baby?"

He pressed you, bringing you closer and closer with each thrust of his fingers.

"I'm going to fuck you so hard, baby. Make you forget all about that Munson kid," he whispered against your ear, voice dripping with arousal as his circled your clit. Your fingers gripped at his forearm, half moon shapes forming as your nails dug in.

"Would you like that, sweetheart?" He asked, pressing a kiss to your temple. You felt the tension building up in your belly, warmth filling you as you came closer to your release. "You want Steve to fill you with his cock? Fuck you until you can barely remember your own name?"

You came with a shout, guttural moan coming out as his arched into his grasp. He laughed as you rode yourself through it, fingers covered in your slick as he pumped them into you the last few times. This man had done nothing to you other than finger you, but you felt like you ran a triathlon.

He sat up on the bed, removing his fingers from you as you sat there, legs open, dress pushed up to your waist. He held eye contact with you as he brought his fingers up to his mouth, tongue darting out as he sucked the digits into his mouth.

You moaned at the filthiness, not believing that Steve was as bold in bed, as he was outside of it. The smile around his lips was condescending as he watched you watch his tongue, lapping up your slick on his hand.

Glancing down his body, he was hard in his jeans, small patch of wet pooling in the front. You reached towards it, fingers just grazing the rough material as you heard a knock in the far distance.

Steve looked over towards your window, your eyes following the movement.

"Steven," His mother's voice was faint, his bedroom window wide open. "Nancy's here!"

You couldn't help but feel like you do this to yourself at this point, irritation not even something you could be bothered with feeling. Steve removed his hand from his mouth, standing up as you readjusted yourself.

"Gotta go, princess," he whispered towards you, pressing a chaste kiss to your mouth. It lingered, his hand briefly coming up to rest at your wild hair.

"Don't wait up," he winked at you, swinging his leg over your window sill. Arousal and anticipation pooled in your belly, remnants from earlier.

"Wouldn't dream of it, Harrington," You muttered, briefly wondering how much trouble you would be in if you just pushed him right off the ledge. He disappeared before you could even think of it further, the curtains fluttering as his hand disappeared out of sight.

He was going to be the death of you.

You had distanced yourself from the Harrington boy, not wanting to fall victim to his flirting again after the incident in your bedroom. Summer nights spent inside of your bedroom passed the time as your mom insisted you weren’t grounded, just not allowed to go out. You didn’t even know what you were under house arrest for, nothing significant enough happening that you would be in trouble for.

Whenever you had asked, she brushed it off, giving you some lame excuse that fell under the ‘more family time’ umbrella.

You hadn’t seen much of Steve lately, his bedroom light off and BMW missing from the driveway. You had heard rumors of him and Nancy being the IT couple around town, Eddie telling you over the phone. You insisted you didn’t care, complaining that he only told you because he wanted to rub it in that Steve “wasn’t that type of guy” even further.

Your little brother even had a life, spending his nights with the younger boys from town, you hearing him speaking on a walkie he had inherited from somewhere.

Tonight was your night to sneak out, finding yourself downtown as you passed by the local theatre.

You are searching for a store to buy your cigarettes from, the previous clerk you went to insisting that there had been a new law pushed urging 21 and over only. The lack of nicotine had you itching, mouth watering at every scent of the drug that passed you.

“Hey, new girl!” You heard a familiar voice behind you, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up. Turning around, you recognized Tommy, his stupid, freckled face, smiling at you. Behind him, Carol and Steve stood, his arm around a young brunette you recognized to be known as Nancy.

You glanced up towards the night sky, wondering why you had never gotten into religion. Maybe then there would be something that would listen to you.

“New girl,” he taunted again, stepping closer to you. Only a few feet away, you could see all of the groups eyes on you, wondering where Tommy was going with his calls.

“Tommy,” you greeted him, hands shoving into your coat as you looked for an escape route. He took a step closer to you, urging you to come closer. You noticed a cigarette in his hand, your eyes flicking down to his grasp as your addiction took over any logical sense in your mind.

Taking a step towards the group, you nodded a greeting at the girls, avoiding Steve’s eye line all together. You had nothing to say to him, not even a greeting as he left you high and dry on your last interaction.

You had been successful avoided him for the rest of the summer, you definitely weren’t going to start now a week before school starts again.

“Long time no see, sweet thing,” Tommy’s nick name for you had you cringing, his annoying voice not even doing a portion of what Steve had done for you. You shook your head, ignoring the way your heart fluttered at the memory. It had been almost two months since you last heard him call you that.

“I’ve been around,” you said, squaring your shoulders as you eyed the tobacco in Tommy’s fingers.

“Still hang out with that freak kid?” He asked you, slapping his fist against his palm as he questioned you. You quirked an eyebrow, wondering what he was getting at.

“What kid?” You asked, knowing exactly who he was talking about. You knew where this was going, but didn’t have the energy to play along with his game.

“Munson, the freak, devil worshiper, whatever you wanna call it.”

His laugh was loud in the air as Carol followed, giggling into her jacket as both Steve and Nancy looked uncomfortable.

“What about it, Tommy?” You sighed, wanting him to get straight to the point. His laughter came to an end, looking for Carol for confirmation before his next question.

“What do I have to do to get a little something from him?”

You raised an eyebrow, dragging your eyes over his freckled face. Nodding, a smile crossed your face.

“Oh, Eddie doesn’t swing that way. He’ll pass,” you smirked, hearing the way that Steve snorted at your comment. Glancing in his direction, you couldn’t help but notice the way Nancy held her gaze on you, unfaltered.

“No, dumbass,” Tommy rolled his eyes, snapping at Steve who immediately quieted down. “I meant weed.”

“I mean, I guess I could make a call,” you looked down at your feet, shifting your weight side to side as you debated your options. You had no obligations to this man, but you felt the need to do a favor if it meant helping out Steve in the same breath.

“Perfect, you know where Steve lives-”

“She does?” Nancy’s voice was soft as she questioned the open air. Nobody answered even though the answer of you two being neighbors was simple.

“-so just come by and drop it off when you’re done making that run.” Tommy was casual in his orders, barking them off as if he was used to running things.

You quirked an eyebrow at him, “And when do I answer you?”

“I think you’ll do it if you even want a chance of a social life next year, babe.”

His threat seemed empty to you, not intimidated by the chance of your ‘social score’ being ruined. Eddie was the first friend you made in Hawkins, it was ruined before it even happened, and everyone knew that.

Rolling your eyes, you huffed in his direction, “I don’t even have a way of getting there and back.”

“I’ll take you.”

Steve’s voice caused all of you to look at him, Nancy taking a step back to look at her boyfriend. Blushing, you didn’t know how to answer.

“Go ride with them, Nance. And I’ll meet you back over there,” he coolly replied, taking a step in your direction. She opened her mouth a couple of times, seemingly embarrassed at the way she had been tossed to the side.

“Steve, w-what?” She asked, confusion written all over her features.

“I’ll be back,” he said, stepping into her as you felt uncomfortable at the interaction. He looked like he was going to kiss her for a second, only to pat a hand on her cheek before stepping in your direction.

A hand was pressed to the small of your waist as he led you to the maroon colored car. It was a few streets down, the group of teens behind you getting smaller as you watched Nancy with her pair of eyes on you. You felt guilty, even if you hadn’t done anything to her.

“You’re even a dick to your girlfriend, Harrington,” you said, as he opened the passenger door for you. You took a look at him before sliding in, tucking your feet in as the door slammed behind you. He made his way to the drivers seat, settling in as he smirked at you.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he replied, key pressing into the ignition.

“You might want to tell her that,” you quipped, head turning towards the window as he took off down the street. The lights of downtown faded in the background as you made your way towards the desolate part of Hawkins.

You were confused as more and more trees appeared, the way to Eddie’s trailer becoming more and more clear.

“How do you know where he lives?”

Steve glanced at you, turning down the stereo so he could hear you better. You repeated the question, eyes trained on the trees becoming more sparse as you approached the lot.

It might have been the first time you saw Steve blush, “Oh, Nance’s litt- Nancy’s little brother’s here all the time, playing a dumb board game or something. I drive them sometimes when they don’t have a ride. Your brother’s there too, sometimes.”

You rose an eyebrow at the slip of the little nickname, humming as you turned towards the window. Trailers began to pass you, Eddie’s appearing with his van parked right out front.

“She’s so your girlfriend, Harrington,” you muttered, getting out of the car before you could hear him say anything. You didn’t want to linger on the thought that Steve had been taken by someone, a truly good girl, no matter how much you liked to pretend you were. No connection had truly been made between you, but you did enjoy that cat and mouse chase you had going.

You made your way up to the stairs, knuckles rapping at the door. Eddie appeared, confused as he stood there in a tight black t-shirt, exposing the bottom of his stomach.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, not even saying hello. His eyes squinted as he noticed the headlights of a car pointed in your direction. “Is that- is that fucking Steve?”

You grumbled, pushing him back into the trailer as you shut the door behind you. You felt Steve’s eyes on the two of you, you didn’t want him to see the interaction.

“I thought you couldn’t come out. House arrest or some other bullshit,” Eddie complained, crossing his arms over his chest as he sat down on the couch. You shrugged, eyes trained on everything else but the man in front of you. “And yet you’re here with Steve fucking Harrington.”

Eyes widening at the harshness in his words, you scratched behind your ear.

“We need weed,” you said, avoiding his statements. Eddie shushed you, finger pointing to his ear. “I didn’t even say it that loud, dimwit, I just need some.”

Eddie pursed his lips at you, staring, unmoving as you mirrored his stance. Hip cocked out, you placed a hand on your hip, tapping your toes against the floor.

“Why would I give Harrington some of my stuff?” He asked, defensive even as he stood up to make his way to his room. He was grabbing the tin anyways, making his way out back to where you stood.

“Because you love me and want good things for me,” you said, but it came out more like a question. Eddie rolled his eyes, grabbing a random baggie before shoving it in your grasp.

A smile crossing your face, you leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek. “Love you, Munson.” He face filled with color as he glanced down at the floor.

You turned around to make your way out, Eddie’s hand darting out to grab you.

“I’m doing this for you, okay? Not Harrington, not Tommy H, not anyone else, okay?” He asked, eyes set deep into you as you nodded along to his words. The serious expression in his face made you want to cry, he had never been so stoic around you. “Whatever you’re doing, just … I warned you, okay? Please be careful.”

“Always will be,” you muttered, watching as his eyes searched yours once more before dropping to the products in his hand. He didn’t say anything else, so you took that opportunity to run out of that trailer, making your way back to the beemer that sat in front of the property.

Steve jumped as you made your way into the car, singing along to some random song of the radio. He raised an eyebrow to you, questioning if you got the stuff. You pulled it out of your pocket, showing him the large amount he had given you.

“Holy shit, Munson,” he laughed, shaking his head as he started his car. He high-tailed it out of there, car speeding over the empty streets as he made his way towards population.

The drive had you thinking, wondering what the hell you were doing in the front seat of this car. Steve’s fingers tapped against the steering wheel, the rhythmic noises urging you to think of the reality of the situation.

Him and you would never work out, he was always doing something, somebody, never gave you a considerate time of the day. You were lucky if you got more than 20 minutes with the asshole.

He couldn’t be thinking of you, no matter how much you tried to convince yourself that he did whenever he left his bedroom window open.

“Yn?” His voice pulled you from your thoughts, his hand waving in front of your face. He was pulled into his driveway, another car, one you recognized as Tommy’s, parked next to it. You heard shouting coming from the backyard, the splashing of a pool as Carols voice screamed.

“Sorry, just … thinking,” you muttered, grabbing the bag off of your lap to hand to Steve. He looked confused as you reached for your seatbelt, clicking it off of you as you reached for the door handle.

“You’re not coming in?” He asked you, voice a lot softer than you ever remember it being. Your hand stopped on the handle as you turned to face him. You weren’t sure what he was getting at.

“I can’t?” You asked, voice careful considering your next words. “Nancy’s here? And I’m sure Tommy and Carol want me dead.”

Steve laughed, shaking his head at your answer.

“They don’t hate you, and Nance is not my girlfriend,” he said, hand coming out to rest at your thigh. His thumb dipped onto the inner muscle, butterflies flowing through your stomach. “Just come in, for a little bit.”

You shook your head, noticing the way he leaned closer to you. You felt his breath against your lips, the scent of spearmint gum coming from him.

“Just a little bit,” he whispered, pressing a small kiss to your lips. You leaned into it, hand reaching across to rest on his own leg.

Parting from you, he took a small breath.

“Or we could maybe have a little fun here?” He asked, running a finger to the heat between your legs. The material of your dress was pushed up as his fingertips danced over the material of your underwear.

Your legs opened, inviting him in as he rubbed circles over your heat, watching the way your underwear became stained with your wetness. A whimper escaped your lips, eyes fluttering shut as he began to massage your sex.

“What’s wrong with a little fun?” He whispered, pulling back your underwear at the waistband, just to let go, smirking at the way you jumped when it snapped at your skin. “Nancy doesn’t have to know everything.”

Your face dropped as you pushed his hand off of you, straightening your clothes as you felt a sting at the back of your eye.

“Woah, Yn,” he said, putting his hand up in surrender as you pulled your jacket over your frame, shielding the exposed skin your dress had to offer. “What happened?”

Crossing your legs, you didn’t dare look at the Harrington boy.

“Is that what this is?” You questioned, hearing Eddie’s words in your mind from earlier. Steve sputtered, confused at the sudden change in mood.

“What are you talking about?” Apprehension clear in his tone, he tried touching you again, only to be smacked away.

“Am I just a distraction for you whenever you’re bored?” You began to raise your voice, annoyance prickling at your tone. “Whenever you want something a little different from Nancy?”

Steve sighed, pinching his nose bridge as he processed your words. Silence lingered in the air for a moment, the only sounds present were the distant ones of the teenagers in the backyard.

“Did you honestly think it was anything more?”

His words had you snapping your head in his direction. You couldn’t believe his words, jaw dropping as he stared at you.

“W-what?”

Tears pricked at your eyes, Eddie’s face appearing in the back of your mind. His words were crystal clear now, the false hope of Steve Harrington tarnishing your ideals of him. You knew he was with the brunette girl, you knew he was in a relationship, you had heard it all summer. Even as he denied it earlier, you felt it inside of you that they were together.

“I’m sorry if you thought it was anything more,” he answered you, uncomfortably adjusting his hair. This would be the moment where he pretended like he had been loyal to his girlfriend the entire time. “I think I’m, like, with Nancy now.”

You rolled your eyes at him, not choosing to answer as you stormed out of the car. You slammed the door shut, crossing the lawn to your own house, not caring that you were knocking on the front door, even if you had snuck out earlier. Your mom answered, confused at you presenting yourself, when you should’ve been in your room the entire night.

“Yn? What’s going on?” She asked, glancing behind you to see if she saw anyone. If she saw Steve, half way out of his car, staring in your direction, she didn’t say anything, instead inviting you in as the tears began to come.

She didn’t say anything as you threw yourself in the house, closing the door behind you before you hugged her, letting out a tear as you buried your head in her arms. Your mom was confused, but her motherly instinct kicks in, silent as she was wrapping her arms around you as you sobbed.

You didn’t want Eddie to be right, but he had been the entire time. Admitting to being with Nancy wasn’t the worst part of it all after denying it all night, it was just how he had made you feel important even if it was for a split second. Deep down, you knew he wasn’t to be true in his words, but for the moment, you liked to pretend. He slipped into the role so easily, it made you feel like it was natural, him being the missing puzzle piece inside of you.

Steve wasn’t the person you had thought him to be, he was much worse.

The school year had began, three months and now deep into the winter season, and you had kept your distance even further from everyone else. Eddie had been bothered by it at first, wondering why you were even ghosting him when it came to your isolation. He knew it was Steve related, but he didn’t press the situation, choosing to give your space as you needed. He knew you would come back around eventually.

You heard rocks hitting your window at night as you kept it closed, Steve’s own window ajar as he hung half way out of it. The only response you had was to turn up your stereo, ignoring him as you felt your story was over. Being a pawn in his game wasn’t the way that you wanted to live your life in this town, waiting for the school season to be over until you could make it to college.

You chose to sulk in your room, realizing the self loathing and isolation weren’t going to get you anywhere, but you could pretend as long as it brought you inner peace. You shouldn’t be this upset over someone like him, but you couldn’t help it.

Steve's window across the way was lit up, curtains drawn as shadowed figures moved behind it. You crossed the distance of your bedroom floor, closing the journal that you scribbled in. Two shadows danced in the swaying of the pulled curtains, you figured it was Steve with Nancy, a normal occurrence you saw in the late hours of the night. His window was cracked open, the curtains being sucked out of the opening as the harsh weather made its claim over your part of town.

Just as you went to turn around, you saw a hand strike up, hitting the smaller one next to it. Gasping, you covered your mouth, not believing the sight in front of you. How could Steve hit Nancy like that? You didn't realize he was that type of person, an asshole in every aspect of his life.

The smaller figure fell out of view of the window, presumably on the bed as you saw a small bounce of the shadow. You chose to run out of the room, nearly knocking down your mom as you descended the stairs.

"Honey, what's going on?" She called out to you, but you ignored it, throwing open the front door as you hurried across the lawns. You couldn't waste any time, pounding your fist against the wooden double doors.

"Nancy?" You called out, fist rapidly pounding. All of the Harrington cars were in the driveway, you knew they had to be home by the way each light on the first floor was on. Nobody answered, your fist began to hurt with the force of each blow to the door.

Your face was flushed as it flew open, Steve's mom standing there with her perfect, chestnut hair, styled down to her shoulders. She held a dishrag in her hands, wiping wetness off of it as she looked you up and down, curious.

"Oh, hello, Miss Yn. Is everything okay, darling?" She asked you, peaking her head out to glance around you. She looked for something as you took a deep breath, trying to figure out what to say.

"I just- your son," you took a few deep gasps, trying to look around her for signs of the Wheeler girl. "Is Nancy okay?"

She pursed her lips, hand coming up to rest at her hip. You saw a spitting image of Steve in that moment, now knowing where he got it from.

"Uh, Nancy?"

"I saw- She, uh... She fell," you breathed, head shaking as you struggled over your own thoughts. "I don't know what I saw."

You felt crazy as Mrs. Harrington took a look at you. Her gaze slowly traveled over your body, her head nodding slowly as she glanced briefly behind her. She seemed at the same loss of words as you.

"Nancy's not here, darling," She said, beginning to close the door. "You should go home."

Your hand shot out, stopping the wood from closing. The woman gasped, shocked at your bravery in doing so.

"No!" Taking a step towards the home, you couldn't just leave it as that. You were in the doorway at this point, craning your neck to look behind her as you searched for the brunette. "I saw her."

"Honey, I don't know what you saw, but you need to go-"

"Yn?" Steve appeared behind her suddenly, confusion draped over his eyes. A small gasp escaped your mouth as you realized you had the situation so, so wrong.

His eye was yet again bruised, a small cut on his mouth as he ducked his face towards the floor. His body was covered by his mom as he stood behind her, hand coming up to grip the frame of the door. Mrs. Harrington took a look back at her son, not phased by the injuries on his face.

"Steven, go back to your room," she said, shaking her head as placed a hand on his cheek. He flinched away from it, eyes not leaving you as he moved around her. She protested, annoyed at the fact he followed you outside, stepping out of the warmth of the home. "Steven! Before your father-"

"I'll be back," he said, hands on you as he slowly pushed you away from the entrance. He spared a look back at her as his hand found yours. "Please, don't tell him."

The older woman looked at him in his eyes, a silent conversation occurring between the two of them. Glancing at your clasped hands, she took one look behind her before nodding, closing the door with a soft thud.

"Steve? What's going on?" You asked, feeling the warmth of his hand as he led you towards his car. He shushed you, pushing you inside as he unlocked it. The smell of old leather and tobacco invaded your senses, fear shaking your bones as you did not know what to take from the situation. You watched as he settled into the driver's seat, key in ignition before pulling out onto the main road.

Silence overtook the two of you, the only sounds being the small beginnings of the pitter-patter of rain hitting the windshield. The look on the boy's face made him look so young at this moment, his big, brown eyes blinking away the stinging of tears, hand coming up every now and then to touch the red on his lip.

"Steve?"

He didn't answer you, instead pulling over to the side of the road as deep throes of trees surrounded you. He rested his head in his hands, fingers running over his face as the rain continued to grow heavy.

Your hand came to rest at his back, uncertainty in your movements as you weren't sure what you were doing here.

"Steve?" You tried once again, his gaze finally meeting yours, lashes wet with tears. The bruise over his eye had swelled at this point, his fingers coming up to shield the majority of the injury from your wandering look. You moved your hand to grab his, leaning over the center console. It left his face as your grip tightened, fingers intertwining in the darkness of the car.

"You weren't supposed to see that," he muttered, looking down at your chin as he dropped eye contact. The Harrington you once knew was gone in this moment, replaced by a younger version who seemed scared of even himself.

"How long has he...?

Your voice trailed off as he shook his head at you, your question answering itself.

"You don't deserve that. No one does, you shouldn't have to deal with that."

Steve's laughter cut off the rest of your words, he looked up at the roof of the car, shaking his head.

"Little miss perfect, telling me how to deal with this," he tapped his knuckle on the driver's window, other hand dancing on the steering wheel. Heat was on your cheeks.

"I'm just trying to help, Harrington."

He nodded, eyes flitting in your direction as you shrank down in the seat.

"I'm sorry," he suddenly said, hand coming out to rest at your knee. "I... he-he wasn't always like this. It's whenever he drinks too much, and in case, you haven't noticed, I'm not the best as staying silent."

Your hand covered his in your knee, rubbing in small circles as his grip tightened. The warmth flowed through your body, small shock waves of electricity tingling at your spine.

You snorted at his comment, rolling your eyes at the memory of all the little quips Steve had given you since you met him.

"I promise I'm okay, it's not as bad as it looks," he continued, turning his body towards you as you leaned into him. His hand came to rest at your cheek, thumb rubbing at the skin on your cheekbone. "I'm okay, princess. I promise."

You wanted to believe him, you really did, but Steve hadn't been the most trust worthy person you had met in the town. This time, his lying benefited the situation, you weren't sure if he had lied for his own sake, or for yours.

He leaned in slowly, lips hovering over yours for a moment, before they lightly pressed in. A slight copper taste of blood was on his lips, masking the mint taste he so often had. You nipped at his lip, earning a hiss from him as he pulled away slightly.

"Watch it, princess," he laughed into your mouth, fingers lacing in your hair as he pulled you into him. You nodded, breathless sigh opening your mouth, letting his tongue find dominance over yours.

Suddenly, you saw the Wheeler girl, her brown hair against Steve's shoulder, arms wrapped around him in your memory. Pulling away, you placed a hand on his chest, elbow resting on the center console.

"Wh-what about Nancy?" You said, licking the taste of Steve off of your lips. His eyes traced your tongue's movement, his own tongue darting out as he attempted to lean in again.

"She dumped me," he shrugged, glancing up at you.

"Steve!" You exclaimed, eyes widening at his admission. This boy was hurting in more ways than one, all of it being dumped on you on this unexpecting night.

He shook his head, eyes rolling. "She said my mind was too busy on someone else."

His voice was low as he spoke to you, features dark. Heart kicking up a few notches, the hand on his chest began to pull at the fabric, exposing a few hairs by his collarbone.

"I was too distracted by you," he whispered into the air, mouth returning to yours as his thumb parted your lips. His tongue was warm and wet, gliding over the muscle of yours as he leaned over you. The sound of the leather crushed under you, Steve halfway out of his seat as passion was exchanged in the kiss.

"Get in the back, sweetheart," he muttered against your mouth, pressing small kisses to you. You leaned your head back, moaning at the way his wet mouth began to suck and lick at your neck.

"I'm not going to fuck you, Harrington," you rolled your eyes in pleasure, pants coming out of your lips. He nipped at the skin harshly, leaving teeth marks at the plump skin.

He unbuckled the seat belt that strapped you in, guiding it so it didn't harm you as it slid back into place. He reached down, patting at your ass as he urged you to crawl over the seats.

"It's okay," he said, voice low as his hand grazed over your hip. "I'm going to fuck you, sweetheart."

His words sent heat straight to your core, you jumped up at his words, hearing his laughter as you crawled into the back, ridding yourself of your shirt before he could utter the words. He followed you movements, long limbs tripping over himself as he struggled to manage his height in the back. He settled his weight over you, hips planting over yours as he returned his mouth to its previous place, sucking at the junction of your neck.

His hands found your waist, fingers dipping into the waistband of your shorts, pulling them down your legs before working on his own clothes. The windows began to fog up, small squeaks of the BMW echoing into the rain of the night.

"You've been waiting for this, haven't you, baby?" He said, pulling his jeans off of him before crossing his arms at his waist, hunched over to pull off the material of his button up. Your fingers went up to graze over his chest, feeling the dusting of hair under your touch.

The lack of light in the car allowed you no mercy, the glint of dimmed moonlight catching his eye. Your mouth was dropped open, feeling his heavy weight per you as his clothed manhood rubbed over your core.

Returning his mouth to your neck, he began to kiss down the expanse of your skin, goosebumps in its wake. You gripped his tendrils of hair between your fingers, moaning as he pushed you up the seat.

Your head was pressed against the glass, eyes closed in bliss as he pressed small kisses to the space below your belly button. His breath was hot, tongue darting out to lick against the pubic bone, his finger tips stretched over the plane of skin.

Your underwear was pulled down, your hips being ushered upwards as the material slid down your thighs. A kiss was pressed to your clit, your thighs opening as a gasp escaped your mouth, head smacking against the glass once more.

"Look at me, princess," you heard Steve whisper into the night, you shaking your head as your eyes were squeezed shut. You felt him breathe against the heat between your legs, Steve pressing another kiss to you.

"Sweetheart..." He warned, moving to sit up in the vehicle. Before he could make a move, you shot open your eyes, looking down into his dark brown. A smirk was present on his face, eyes filled with arousal as he nodded in approval at the eye contact.

His tongue darted out to lick at you, running languidly as it dipped between your folds. You mewled under his touch, struggling to keep your eyes open as he continued to please you.

His face grew more and more wet, his tongue dipping in and out of your sex as he maintained eye contact. Hand leaving your hip, he pressed a finger to your entrance, dipping it in as a shout escaped you. One of your hands pawed at the window, hips moving against his face as your chased the pleasure he was giving you.

"Steve," you drawled out, grip tight in his hair as you pulled his face further into you. He sucked at your clit, pumping a finger in and out of you at a steady pace.

"I know, sweetheart, I know," he whispered against you, slopping up your wetness as he moved his head side to side. White began to cloud your vision, another finger slipping into you as he picked up the pace.

The spot inside of you ached so good, being hit repeatedly as his fingers curled inside of you.

"Steve, I'm gonna-"

He removed himself from you, fingers still moving, paces slower. You whined, the white hot feeling leaving your gut. A smirk covered his face as he leaned up to kiss you, chin wet from your slick.

"Not yet, sweetheart," his kiss was sweet, the taste of you and Steve mixing together as his fingers slowly curled inside of you. It was enough to tease you, keeping you on the edge of your orgasm, wanting more of him in every way possible.

"Steve, please. I need- I need-"

Your words were rambling, as you pulled him into you, fingers scratching at his back. His gaze was almost mocking, eyebrows raised as he took in the pleasure on your face.

"What do you need?" He asked, daring to press a third digit to your dripping entrance. You arched into the touch, feeling the way it poked at you. The burn was harsh, pleasure tickling at your spine, earning another wave of wetness to pool at his fingers.

"I need you, Steve."

"How bad do you need me?" He asked, pushing in the digit even further. Your eyes rolled back, breaking the stare between the two of you. Steve angled your downward, hovering over you as your hair fanned out below you.

His teasing made you even more sloppy, whimpers spilling out of your mouth, fingers clawing at his skin, wetness pressing at the corners of your mouth.

"So bad, Steve." Tears began to well up in the corners of your eyes, his fingers leaving your heat as he settled between your thighs. One of his hands hooked under the curve of your knee, angling it upwards as your foot draped over the back of the leather seats.

He kneeled over you, pulling down his own underwear as he took a hold of himself. Pumping slowly over his length, his head prodded at your entrance, teasing you as you fluttered around him.

"I don't think I heard you, sweetheart."

You huffed at him, trying to angle your hips up to ease his way in. A hand shot out, pushing you back down into the seat.

"You're such an ass, Harrington."

"And yet you're still here," he laughed, pressing further against you as he began to push into you. You stretched around him, hands shooting up to grip at anything around you as he moaned deeply.

His breath grew short, small pants escaping his lips as his hips stuttered, pressing his full length into you. Forehead pressed against yours, he leaned down to kiss you, moaning helplessly into your mouth.

Steve was big, his cock nudged deep inside of you, aching as it pressed against your cervix.

He slowly rolled his hips inside of you, cock nudging deeper and deeper as you groaned, hands gripping the globe of his ass. Rearing his hips back, he moaned before snapping them back in, the entirety of the car shaking with the force of it.

He urged animalistic moans out of you, red scratches on his skin as his teeth left bite marks on your skin.

"Feel so good, baby," he moaned, licking over bites marks that he left. The sound of slapping skin echoed through the car, humidity leaving your skin damp.

"So fucking good."

He began a string of words of encouragement, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. You felt a feeling like no other bubbling in your core, pressure that felt like exploding as he fucked into you.

So pretty, princess.

You feel so good around me, look what you're-fuck, look what you're doing to me.

Gonna cum so deep inside of you, sweetheart.

This pussy's all mine, baby? All mine.

You moaned at his words, his thrusts becoming more sloppy as your wetness became a slip and slide that he struggled to keep up with. It came to a point where you only felt his head hitting against your sweet spot, blinding white pleasure clouding your mind.

Steve moaned loud, you felt a burst of his warm release inside of you, filling you up as he rammed inside of you.

"Cum for me, princess," he moaned, continuing to fuck you even through his own over stimulation. You screamed out loud as you exploded, wetness spurting out of you as he coughed out a loud, shocked laugh, hand reaching down to rub at your clit.

Arching your back, you moaned through it, feeling extremely lightheaded as he massaged you. His seats were a mess, dripping with your own release as you pushed him away from you. Removing himself from you, he sat back, admiring the way you laid there, spent.

"Well, that's a first," he laughed, reaching down to grab his underwear to wipe down the liquid. You blushed, hand coming up to cover the redness at your cheeks.

"Shut up, Harrington," you giggled, breathlessly as you felt him wipe you down. He pulled you up to a sitting position, pulled into his side as you winced at the soreness in your legs.

He frowned, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he rubbed the palms of his hands over your arms.

"You alright, princess?" He whispered into your hairline, covering you with his discarded sweater. You nodded, leaning your head back so you could look into his eyes.

They were filled with a warmer emotion, much different than the previous look he had. His hair fell over his forehead, bed head wild as he scanned your features.

"Does this mean we're friends now?" He asked you, smile tugging at his mouth as his thumb found its way over your cheek. It pushed at your bottom lip, parting your lips as it pressed inside, lightly brushing against your tongue.

It was your turn to laugh, rolling your eyes as you took a good look at him. He was spent, bruised and breathless, hope lingered in his eyes as he awaited your answer.

"You tell me, Steve." You said, pressing a kiss to his mouth again. He moaned again, cock stirring once more as your lips met. You both pulled away to look down at it, the dripping head leaking as it began to harden again.

You laughed, noticing the way his chest began to rise and fall shallowly.

"Fuck, princess," he groaned, head leaning back against the seat. His eyes fluttered shut. "You're going to fucking kill me."

Masterlist. Inbox and requests are open.

AN: I love mean!Steve, I am sorry. I promise I'll have him as a sweetheart one of these days. This took forever for me to write, so let me know what you think?

(𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞) 𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧

Steve hears you wrong, thinks he’s your boyfriend, and begins to act accordingly. You try your best to go along with it until you can’t anymore. 3k, fem. requested here ♡ 

cw shy(ish)!reader, misunderstandings, steve being a huge sweetheart, fluff, hurt/comfort, bonus fluff scene 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

The arcade is loud and brisk this evening, doors thrown open to allow for the constant ebb and flow of younglings, the machine music turned up to account for so many voices. You’re lost in a sea of rainbow flashing lights and the ticklish smell of sugar. Without Steve’s hand behind your shoulder, you’re pretty sure you would’ve gotten lost and trampled half an hour ago. 

A candy necklace pinwheels past your heads like a torpedo, forcing you closer together, your shoulders tight with a flinch. 

“We can leave,” Steve says immediately. He’s weirdly thoughtful. Before he asked you out you had no idea he thought so much about other people, but he’s always thinking about other people. You could argue he thinks a little too much, like you. 

“I wanna see Max.” 

“She has to be here somewhere.” 

That theory proves less and less likely. Steve’s hand falls away from you, tugging through his hair in a marker of stress as you circle the Palace Arcade for the tenth time. “Maybe she quit?” you suggest. 

Steve’s eyebrows pinch together as he gives the arcade another sweep. Max’s rough patch freaked him out, as it freaked you out, because ‘rough patch’ is a kind way to describe it. She could’ve got a whole lot worse; she was suffering, capital S. It’s nice to see her returning to society, but not if she isn’t actually settling in. That’s the whole reason you’re here. 

Steve frowns at you worriedly. 

“Who died?” asks a new voice.

You breathe out a sigh of relief. “Max!” Steve cheers. 

“That’s me,” Max says, looking at you both sceptically. Her ginger hair is pulled into two tight braids either side of her face, her cheeks flushed red. Mascara paints her usually pale lashes a darker brown, and a rosy tinted chapstick shines on her lips. 

“Hey, the uniform looks good on you,” he says affectionately. “You look like a valued member of society.”

“A society in need of better labour laws. I’m pretty sure this is child abuse.” She rolls her eyes. 

“Is it awful?” you ask. 

“It’s fine. Better when your stupid friends aren’t here making themselves sick on candy like they’re nine years old,” she says pointedly to Steve. “Are you going to throw up too? You look–” she grimaces in place of insult. 

“Who’s throwing up?” you ask. 

“Dustin. He’s outside.” 

Steve sighs and gives your shoulder a kind squeeze. “I’ll be right back,” he says, squaring his expression. “Goddamn kids.” 

He sounds like an old man, you think to yourself with a small smile. Disgruntled, he still goes to make sure everyone’s alright. He’s nice, even when that nice is begrudging and tiresome and plain gross sometimes. 

“Why are you smiling at him like that?” Max asks.

You school your impression. “Like what?” 

“Like you like him.” 

You shake your head. “Tell me about work, Max. What’s it like here? Are they giving you your breaks?” 

She drags you over to the counter to sit in the seat waiting behind. She glares at any kid who approaches, but besides that she seems in good spirits. The job isn’t hard, it’s just a job. She’d much rather be at home reading, but wouldn’t everyone? “And I get this sweet uniform,” she says, pointing at the embroidered icon on her shirt pocket. “What’s with you and Steve?” 

“Nothing,” you say, though it’s something. You’re mortified to have been caught having feelings. 

“Looks like something. Are you dating?” 

“I mean, this is a date,” you say, almost whispering as heat floods your face. “But we’re not together.” 

“He was touching you a lot.” 

“Max, he’s really nice. He’s a really nice guy,” you say gently, “and we’re not together, but if he does ask me out eventually, maybe I’ll say yes.” You realise what you’re saying and attempt to backtrack —you do like Steve, but Max doesn’t need to know that. “It’s not like he’s my boyfriend,” you say strangely. 

“Ew,” Max says with a laugh. 

“Not ew,” you correct. You hadn’t meant it in a bad way, it’s— 

“Not ew,” Steve says from behind you, his arm a heavy weight across your shoulder. 

You look wide-eyed up at his face, surprised by his huge beaming smile, an intense loveliness about him as he gives you a half hug. 

“What’s ew about that?” he asks you softly. 

Oh, boy, you think. 

As it turns out, being Steve’s girlfriend is kind of nice, but you aren’t ready.

From that afternoon at the Palace Arcade onward, he treats you like you’re made of gold. And it’s great, he’s so kind, he brings you flowers and takes you out for breakfast, where he pays the tab without any flourishes and talks to you as casually as always. You almost hope he hasn’t got it wrong at all, and that his soft tone a few days ago had been down to a brief overwhelming fondness. You’d get that. You have your moments with him, you’re falling for him, and it’s only a matter of time before you’re desperately in love, you’re sure, but then the waitress asks if you need anything else and he says, “Just a water for my girl,” and you realise you’re not getting off easy. 

Dating is sort of like being good friends; you’d planned to spend the day together anyways. You enjoy his company. It’s clear he’s eager, optioning off the day’s agenda as you return to the car, the bottom of your face hidden in your bouquet. 

“We could go to the movies,” he says, opening the passenger door, his smile seemingly permanent as you climb inside. “No science fiction, I promise.” 

“I kind of like sci-fi.” Petals press fragrant to your top lip.

“Well, we don’t have to go to the Hawk. We could go into the city. I bet they’re playing any movie you wanna see.” He checks that your leg is properly inside the car before he closes the door, jogging around to the driver’s side and practically throwing himself inside. He’s giggling like a kid. “Shit, I’ll see anything you want to.” 

“Steve.” 

“Or we can go do nothing? Until dinner.” 

“Steve,” you say again, thinking you’ll tell him. Nothing good ever comes from dishonesty. 

“What?” he asks. 

His eyes are so brown. Billions of people with brown eyes and you swear you’ve never seen anything like it before, their centres like hot honey, the sweetheart shape to them when he smiles 

You sigh. His smile is contagious, even while your stomach hurts. “Nothing. Let’s go see a movie.” 

“Are you okay?” 

“What?” 

“What do you mean, what? You sounded weird.” 

“I sounded weird?” 

“No!” He winces. “I mean, yeah, you sounded weird for you, like you… I don’t know. Sorry.” 

You feel bad, then. His apology is earnest, his hand resting open on the console for you to take if you could manage the flustering heat of it. 

“I wanna go to the movies,” you say, ‘cos you really do. 

“Alright, good. It’s just, I think my last relationship, I– I didn’t pay enough attention, and I want to do that better this time around. So yeah. Sorry.” 

Oh, Steve, you think. How are you supposed to tell him now? You’re gonna have to pretend to be ready for a relationship with him until you really are, it seems. He doesn’t deserve to have his heart played with twice. 

“Don’t be sorry,” you say gently. “Let’s go watch a movie, okay? I want to go, with you, we’ll watch a shitty daytime flick and then get dinner after. It’ll be fun.” 

You aren’t lying to him about what you want. It’s clear to everybody, Steve and his friends and especially you, that you like him, that you want to be around him and make him laugh. Maybe being his girlfriend won’t even be that different to being his something. 

After all, what’s romantic about seeing a movie? 

“You good?” he asks, half an hour later, your agony prolonged. 

You’re at the back of the movies where the seats have the most leg room, more popcorn and candy than you could ever eat at your feet and a litre cup stuffed into the armrest between you. Steve is tucking his shirt back into his jeans, his head parting the light of the projector and leaving a silhouette in the previews. 

“Steve,” you advise, gesturing for him to lean down out of the way. 

He leans down, further and further, face to face with you with his hands on his hips. A flirtatious teasing makes its way onto his lips. “What?” he asks, amused. 

“You were in the way of the light.” 

“That what it was?”

“Seriously!” you whisper-shout, laughing despite yourself. 

“You’re so cute,” he whispers back. “Want to take your jacket off?” 

Your lips part at his good suggestion. You hold your arm out and start to peel from your jacket, but he takes your sleeve and helps you out of it before folding it and sitting in the seat next to you, your jacket on his thigh. “How’s that, babe?” he asks. 

“It’s good.” 

“Okay, perfect.” He beams at you. He’s always smiling when he’s with you, like you’re the best thing since sliced bread. Like he loves you. “Tell me if you need something, yeah? I know you’re kinda shy.” 

He settles back in his seat with your jacket still in his lap and no indication that he might want to move it. Your knees touch as he relaxes, your knuckles as he puts his arm on the rest between you, a picture of contentedness as the movie begins and the opening credits play. “That’s us,” he says without looking at you. 

Two people walk down the street holding hands as the title of the movie blazes in yellow font with thick red outlines. A Day In Paradise! 

You bite down on a slither of the inside of your lip until it stings. You try to fight it off but the longer you sit there, the more your eyes burn, thinking about Steve and what he deserves and how unfortunate this whole thing is, and yeah, you’re overwhelmed, too. You aren’t ready for so much sweetness all at once. You don’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve this. 

You force the tears away. The movie goes on and on, the lights low, the chatter of moviegoers and the occasional popcorn crush not nearly loud enough to cover the sound of Steve’s breathing. 

He pushes his hair out of his face. Somebody on screen makes a joke, his hand brushes against yours, and then takes it gently as he laughs. 

You pull your hand away and tip your head down, a frantic tear flicking from your lashes. 

“You okay?” he whispers. 

You try to answer. You whimper instead, a terrible, sorry sound stuck to your throat —you can’t hold it in anymore. It’s too much. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble tearily, looking up, a tear rolling fast down the bump of your cheek. 

Steve sits still in moderate horror. “Why are you crying?” he whispers.

The thing about Steve that people tend to forget is that, while he takes care of people the best that he can, he’s really young. He doesn’t always know what to do. He stares at you now like you’re a foreign object, hand tucked back into his abdomen. 

A tear drips onto your lip. It tastes salty. “Sorry,” you say. 

“Why?” he asks, dumbfounded.

“I really like you, Steve.” 

He stares at you. “…But?”

“But I–” His frown hurts your heart. “I don’t know if I’m ready for all of this, I never– never had someone like me like this, I don’t know why I’m crying.” You say that last part to yourself rather than him, scrubbing your cheeks with your hands roughly before hiding your face completely. “It’s not you.” 

“I thought…” And of course he did. 

“I know,” you say. “I’m sorry, Steve. I thought it wouldn’t matter but everything’s going so fast.” 

He touches your arm gently. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I thought you wanted this. You– you said I was your boyfriend, to Max? I thought you liked me.” 

“I do like you,” you insist, meeting his eyes. 

“Can I wipe your tears away? They’re everywhere,” he says. You struggle to read his expression, but there’s no resentment or anger there for you. He looks quite serious. 

“Yeah.” 

Steve bends in his seat to wipe your tears off of your face gently. They really are everywhere, on your cheeks, your top lip, your chin, even down the arc of your neck. “I don’t understand,” he says, going back to your cheek for a missed streak, “but you don’t have to be upset. Please. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do, I promise.” 

“Steve, when I was talking to Max, I said,” —you wince— “that it’s not like you’re my boyfriend. She was asking me about you, and I got all panicky because I like you, but I’m too weird about this stuff, I’m panicking now–”

“Don’t.” His hand lingers on your face, before a sorry flash of dejection passes over him, and he drops your face altogether. 

“I didn’t mean for this to happen. Please believe me.” 

“Of course I believe you.” He grimaces at you, and the heartbreak turns to something more manageable, like he’s brushing himself off. “I’m sorry. For getting the wrong idea.” 

“I like you,” you whisper. Your voice is nearly lost to the rustle of popcorn and drinks. 

“I like you too!” he says loudly. 

A few seats down, somebody turns, an angry whirl of hair and clicky nails. “Can you guys shut up?” 

You and Steve leave your mountain of snacks behind to stand in the theatre hallway, where the winter air is cool on your flushed skin, and the silence is stifling. You lean against a wood feature wall and try to calm down, because he’s the one who should be upset (or maybe he’s not that fussed about you). He stands a half foot away with his arms crossed, looking down at his shoes, though occasionally he glances at you for a split-second and looks away again. 

“You okay?” he asks tightly. 

“I’m sorry.”

He pokes his cheek with his tongue. “So you don’t want to be together?” 

You don’t know. He deserves the truth, even if you barely understand it yourself, and it stings to say. “I do, I like you, but I… I want to take things slowly.” 

He stands there without talking for a while. When he does talk again, he’s laughing, that achy awful sadness he’d worn a far off memory. “You’re this upset because you want us to take things slow?” 

“I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.” 

“You haven’t,” he promises. “That would never hurt my feelings. I knew when I heard it that it was too good to be true.” He scratches the back of his neck. “I guess I gotta earn the title like everybody else does. Is that… cool?” 

You nod vehemently. 

Steve blows a relieved breath of air up his face, his hair ruffling off of his forehead. “I thought I was gonna lose you completely,” he says, smiling. “This is fine. I can work with slow. Slow’s my middle name.”

—♡—

The sun is a blistering heat today. “Can’t believe it’s only spring,” you murmur, eyes covered by the back of your arm. 

A weight sits down on the blanket beside you, the sound of dry grass crushed underfoot. He brings the fresh scent of lemon slices with him, the zest sticking to his hands.

“I think I might melt.” 

“I’d never let that happen,” Steve says, laying down beside you. 

“You can be my parasol.” 

“Your what?” 

“It’s a sun umbrella.” 

“Like this?” he asks, gently laying himself across your front, his face on the slip of your stomach that’s bare, his arms sneaking behind your thighs to hug them as you bring them up. 

You reach down to stroke his hair, taking your fingers through the silky lengths of it, fingernails scratching ever so slightly at his scalp. “Thanks,” you say.

He kisses your naked leg. “You’re welcome, honey.” 

If he’d done that at the beginning of your relationship, you’d have frozen up; not because he would’ve done it differently, not because he wasn't always your handsome sweetheart, but because being comfortable with someone this intimately takes time, and that’s okay. 

“Your face is digging into my hip,” you murmur. 

He shifts back, his ear above your belly button. “Is that better?” 

“That’s perfect.” 

“Are you falling asleep?” he asks softly. 

“No… I’m thinking.” 

“Nothing good ever comes of that.” 

“I have something I want to talk to you about.”

“I love talking to you,” he says. He sounds as though he might fall asleep himself, his tongue heavy in his mouth. 

You stroke his hair away from his face by touch alone. Long, warm minutes pass without conversation. You aren’t scared to tell him how you’re feeling. He’s proved to you over time that he’s someone you’ll always be able to trust, and that whatever you have to say will hold weight. 

“It’s a question.” 

He turns in your hold to face you. You raise your arm, greeted by the image of him sun-kissed and lazing, laid out across you without a care in the world. 

“Don’t tell me then,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Jesus, you’re terrifying.” 

“Would you wanna be my boyfriend?”

He narrows his eyes at you. A myriad of emotions pass between you both, until he’s smiling, and you know he’s sitting up for a kiss seconds before he actually does. He presses his lips to yours carefully. “Baby,” he says as he pulls away, voice as mild as his soft kiss, “I think we’ve passed that point.” 

“I realised I’d never asked you, is all.” 

His hair falls down into his eyes. You tuck it behind his ear. It’s pretty clear now you’re together, even after such a bumpy start. 

“Can I get it in writing this time?” he asks, rubbing the tip of his nose against yours, your eyes fluttering closed in tandem. 

“Give you anything you want if you kiss me,” you murmur. 

His laugh fans over your lips. He cups your cheek, your heart a hummingbird drilling at your ribs as Steve moves in to kiss you properly. Your lips part under the pressure, your head tilting a touch to one side to accommodate him as he searches down for you, melty hot pleasure and nerves that never seem to fade arising as his thumb moves up your cheek, a semi-circle of touch. It promises undulating care whenever you want it. 

You tip your head aside to catch your breath.

“Better late than never,” you joke. 

Steve talks into the soft skin beside your mouth. “You weren’t late, babe. I was early, and I didn’t mind waiting.” 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank u for reading!! pretty please like/reblog or comment if you enjoyed cos it means so much to me and inspires me to write even more!!! but either way i hope u enjoyed❤️❤️❤️

bruh i can’t

MONDAY NIGHT RAW — 06/02/14 ROYAL RUMBLE — 01/28/23

“Stupid girl! Curse you!”

Okay Julia coming in with the THEATRICS she’s giving old school VILLAIN!!!!! LEGEND QUEEN

✨Pulled by the Scarlet Reins✨

Witch Trial! Joel x fem! reader

A/N: I came up with this one-shot idea by listening to “Cassandra” by Taylor Swift! I hope you enjoy, and please give me all your feedback and thoughts 🩵 This one is a bit angsty. No beta readers. Nervous and excited to share this one!

Summary: In the hate filled town of Salem, no one is safe. With accusations flying daily, no one is spared from speculation. When the blame is pointed at you, who will be there to defend you?

Rating: 18+ only MDNI

Word Count: 9.1k

Tags: So much angst, hurt Joel, soft Joel, switching POVs, witch trial au, talk of death, grief, smut, oral receiving (fem), unprotected piv, creampie, protective Joel, yearning, pining, Joel seeks revenge, religious trauma

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The weather is cloudy, the sky full of windblown fire ash as another innocent woman is burned to death. You can smell the flesh rotting, hear the excruciating screams fill the amber colored sky as you mourn the loss of Cassandra.

It happened months ago, but you still hear it. The agonizing pleas as she begged for someone to save her, but she couldn’t be saved, not here. She was the only friend you had in this godforsaken town called Salem. She was your best friend, your soul sister, family.

They’re all gone now. Dead, murdered. Now you have no one. You’re all alone in a town hellbent to burn all the innocents they call witches. And you hate it, despise everything about this evil place. You just want to run far, far away from here. What a dream that would be, to get away from the gut wrenching noise of the town named for murders.

   David is the worst of them. The priest of the ungodly church, with his cold blue eyes, a snarl that bites anything he touches, slicked back blonde hair that sets fire to innocent women. He’s a devil disguised as a savior, tricking any man into following him into the depths of despair. You hate the man, hate this fucked up town, but escape is death, too. But what’s worse? Getting mauled by a bear or getting burned to death at the stake? You’d take the bear mauling over all of it.  

   It’s simple enough. You break the rules, do anything to get noticed by the Protestant men of the town, and you get executed. It doesn’t matter if you plead a case, doesn’t matter if you can prove you’re innocent, doesn’t even fucking matter if you’re a member of the goddamn church. If you do anything any of them don’t like, you get hung or worse, burned. 

   So now all you have is this little wooden house made by the rough hands of dirty men, men you’d rather not speak about. All you have are memories of Cassandra sharing your space, her essence still swirling around this lonely room as you pace back and forth day after day trying to hold on to memories that once belonged to you. When you had a friend, when you weren’t so alone, but now you were left with the haunted ghosts of this town. 

   Sometimes they show up at your doorstep when it’s calm and quiet after midnight, spreading their cries of warning to flee the area. But where would you run to? Who would you have? No one. But you don’t have anyone now, so what does it matter? You’re dead either way. 

   You lull around your house, assessing the various shapes and colors of bottles you hold your collected herbs in, twisting the lids on tightly and lining them up neatly across the tall oak shelf. Green lush vines and pink tulips hang across the wide layout of the large glass window, where the sun kisses their gorgeous leaves and makes them grow and thrive in a state of wonder. This house is your only safe haven. Outside is a blood soaked warzone, filled with snakes and gossips that you’d rather avoid. 

   You don’t engage with the toxic church in town; you stopped going right after Cassandra was accused and sentenced to death. Nothing could make you go back to those haunted paint covered church pews, listening to the priest that spews venom about anything and everything he can. You’re a prisoner to this town of hatred, mourning losses of fallen friends and family members who you’d never see again. You’d never conform to this, you’d find a way out. Someday, somehow. You’d get the freedom you so desperately seeked.

   Just when you start assessing some sprouting lilac petals, the wooden door slams open with a bang, making the entire house quiver under the sudden strike. You jump back, watching the potted lilacs fall to the floor as the ceramic pot smashes to tiny pieces. You feel cold, icy hands push you against the wall, holding you back as you watch the hateful men tear apart the only thing you have left in this sunken town.

   “What’s this, hmm? Practicing magic in my town?” David seethes as he holds up a bottle of fresh sage and smashes it to the ground, the glass shattering into tiny pieces like your own heart feels like. 

   “No, those are my plants!” You scream in horror as he continues to smash each bottle one by one, piece by piece. 

   “They don’t look like just plants to me, sunshine. Looks to me like you’ve been meddling in the devil’s affairs,” David snarls as he breaks another bottle of lavender. 

   “No, that’s not it! Please, STOP!” You yell as the men push you back against the covered blue wallpaper. You fight with all your might to break away from their hold, but it’s no use. You have to just stand there in shambles watching your entire life fall apart before your tear soaked eyes. 

   “Shut up, witch! Bite your tongue, you little devil,” he snarls as he comes over in front of you and fists the front of your dress as you see violent, icy eyes stare into your soul. “Now, you’re going to see what the consequences of being friends with Cassandra are. Following in her footsteps, pathetic! Just watch what happens to witches who don’t pay attention in church.”

   He tosses you back against the wall as you watch him slowly destroy your safe little haven. He breaks every single glass bottle in the house, tears apart every vine and flower that sits atop your kitchen counter, flips over granite tables, and destroys everything you ever loved in this space you called home. 

   You feel completely defeated, your silent screams making you dizzy as you plead for him to stop, crying out until your throat runs dry and wet tears stain your crimson cheeks. You watch him pull apart the last of Cassandra’s things, watch him murder her all over again as he lights a match and sets her golden heart locket necklace ablaze. 

   “No!” You shout, scream till your throat is completely on fire as you watch him spread the flames to your destroyed treasures. 

   He grabs a fistful of your hair and drags you out of the house, your white dress snagging on the ground as you become covered in grass stains and dirt, your scalp feeling like it’s about to be pulled off completely as you thrash against his hold. 

   “Witch!” He screams to the growing crowd as they all gather around to watch the next innocent life be taken from the haunted town, except none of them even offer to help. They just stand silent or yell accusations at you as you sit fragile on the soaked grass, feeling the weight of all the hate crash down on you like you really are guilty. You’re not though, you’re just an innocent girl whose life got ripped in half by a lying devil of a man. 

   “Burn it down! Destroy it! Kill the witch!” The horrible words come bellowing out of the community’s mouths, feeding David hate as he smirks your way and nods at the men. 

   “Do it,” he snarls. And they listen, just like they always do. They set your house ablaze, lighting matches and pouring gasoline until you see nothing but orange flames dance across the entirety of your house.

   “No, no, NO!” You muster up all your strength and push yourself off the damp ground, planning to make a run towards the crumbling house as it starts to topple from the hot flames of the ignited fire. 

   “Stay back, witch! We aren’t done with you yet.” One of the men pushes you down, and you feel your palms scrape against the rough ground, feeling blood soak the green grass as your fingernails dig into the cold dirt. You try to get a grip on reality, try to drown out all the screaming chants your way, but it’s no use. They’re echoing all around your mind, stabbing stakes into your body as you feel their filthy nails dig like chalk into your skin, smothering you in hate that you can barely tolerate. Your ears bleed, seep blood as you muster all of your strength to lift your aching head off the dirt covered ground. 

   You see the hateful snarls of the people, see the way they point accusing fingers and call you witch again and again until your brain starts to fog over like a thick mist. You feel the warm tears spill down your embarrassed cheeks, feel the weight of the world come crashing down on you as they cast you down in shame with scornful threats and vulgar gestures. And you’ve never felt more alone than you do now in this little town of deceitful fools.

   You feel the kick of someone’s boot, feel your shoulders being pushed down into a clump of wilting grass as you grunt and lay flat against the hollow earth. You feel as if you’re a tiny insect, its wings being torn off and ripped to shreds as the beautiful monarch butterfly dies in the hands of the vengeful enemies. You’re nothing but a speck of dried up filth now, and that makes you feel so defeated. 

   With every ounce of energy you have left in your frayed body, you dig your nails into the dirt, grunt out in pain as you lift yourself on your hands and knees, trying to ignore the rustling of burning wood and screams of past ghosts that were burnt in the flames time and time again. 

   You slowly lift your head, feeling a bit dizzy as the town lifts their semblance of pitchforks and dusty bibles in their hands, shouting angry chants at you to “Burn the witch” as they spit and crowd around you. Every single one of them follows David’s advances, snarling and bellowing death threats your way as you stare hopelessly into the sea of misled bodies. All of them twisting their words and spewing violence your way. 

   Your teary eyes scan the crowd, looking around for someone, anyone to help you, but there’s no one. No one that’ll take the risk. Your gaze covers the sea, eyelashes drenched in wet tears as your bottom lip quivers in fright. All you see are monsters in front of you, all around you, their claws lashing against your innocent skin as they spill blood over the town of Salem. Not a lick of remorse in their bodies as they continue to take innocent lives again and again. But that’s what they want, what they were taught to do. They never learned it was all a false lore to kill the ones who didn’t obey him. David. A false god on an altar made of death and bones of burnt bodies. 

   You hear the chants continue, feel the warmth from the bitter flames that took everything from you in an instant as your house sits in ash behind you. You can barely look up, barely keep your fingernails embedded in the soft grass, but you do. You can’t let them break you, even if you are already broken when they took it all away from you. Starting with Cassandra, then your family, then your home, your plants, your precious memories that were tucked away safely in that house. Now you have nothing. So maybe dying won’t be the worst thing because you already died the moment they took it all away from you. Now you’re just a corpse among this godforsaken town. They already burned everything you loved, what was another body in an ashy fire? 

   Your throat burns, no more tears left inside you as you feel the sting of bloodshot eyes scan the angry crowd again, enduring the weight of hatred sitting on your chest like you’ve been covered in gravel rocks, the heaviness consuming your insides until you can’t breathe, can’t speak. You’re just there, unalive, drowning in hate filled screams. 

   Your heart slows as you drown out the shouting voices, eyes swarming the sea of people until you see one that stands out amongst the others. In the very back, unmoving, not screaming death threats like the others, not making a sound as he watches with remorse covering the dark shadows of his sorrow filled eyes. 

   Your eyes grow wide as you stare at him, your gaze finding a safe haven in those flecks of honey colored irises that shine a little light down on you. He’s not like the others, no. He’s gentle, kind, a little rough around the edges, but it’s him that pulls you out of the flames, if only for just a few seconds. Joel Miller. The man that was never like the others. 

   He may be broken, may be hollow and bruised beneath his broken military watch, a mere ghost dragging his worn leather boots through the dirt just to get by in this miserable town day after day. The entire town may think little of him, may think he’s scum underneath their shiny church shoes, but you never did. No. He was the only thing that kept your head above water. The only light you saw.

   He watches you carefully, brows furrowed and arms crossed tightly over his broad chest. His fingers flex, jaw clenching as he looks at you with pain in those flecks of warmth. You feel the sadness and agony reflect in your teary eyes, feel exactly what he must’ve suffered when they took the life of Sarah, his only daughter, his only family, but now she’s gone. Just withered ashes in the blowing wind. And you feel it then as the sorrow takes over those cloudy dark eyes, can see it in the way he holds his tired muscles as he hunches his large shoulders. He wants to help, but he can’t. They’d just pull him by his grey threaded tousled curls and throw him in the grave, bury him alive while he suffocates in the damp dirt that holds the bones of his now dead child. 

   You feel a leaking teardrop escape one of your glossy eyes, your gaze never leaving his even as some men start to drag you away towards the haunted church. They pull your hair, digging their rough cut nails into your damaged skin as you watch Joel’s brows knit together, the lines mapping out on his forehead as he fists his clenched fingers at his sides. 

   While everyone else follows to the church, Joel stays behind. His large silhouette fading away when they drag you up the rough staircase and into the dimly lit church, throwing your body into the middle of the pews as they laugh and cast evil remarks your way. 

   You keep your head down as David reprimands you, tossing you against the dusty white walls while your fingernails rip into the fading paint. There’s nothing you can do or say, they’ve made up their mind. You’ll be burned at dawn the next day. This is it. They might as well give you a noose, let you tie yourself to a tree and end it all. You’d rather it be that way than watch the people you hate burn you alive. 

   You just face the blood soaked wall, curling your body into a tight ball as they tear you to shreds. You never were meant to be in this town, with these people. You just got unlucky, and now you’d die with the innocent souls of the lives they took day after day. And now you’d burn with them.

   Joel watches them take you away, dragging you to the church by your lifeless arms and your long locks of hair. He doesn’t follow, can’t bear the sight of watching another innocent life be thrown into the flames. His fingers flex, jaw clenched into a tight fist as he flares his nostrils. He can’t stand to see you hurting, could barely watch as they took everything from you and burned your house to black ashes. And your face. That beautiful, innocent face he was so captivated by. He can’t even muster the anger that sits in his heavy soul. 

   You don’t deserve this, any of this. You didn’t do anything wrong, didn’t say a damn thing to draw attention to yourself. It all started with Cassandra, the first innocent woman that ever lost her life, and then it spiraled from there. 

   He knows the feeling of loss, knows exactly how it feels to have the most important thing snatched from his own rough hands. He went through that hell, watched his own daughter get accused of witchcraft in the walls of the unholy church. He fought like hell, throwing his body over his Sarah as they dragged her from his reach and held him back so they could tear her to shreds. 

   He cursed them out, damning them all to hell while they bound her hands and spilled holy water all over her body. He still hears her agonizing screams night after night, still sees her body alight with flames while they held him down against the mud and made him watch while he screamed in suffering with tear soaked eyes. He remembers it all, remembers them threatening his life after he got up and almost beat a man to death. His knuckles were bloody, body broken as they pushed him down and knocked him out with the back of a wooden plank. 

   He remembers everything. The pain, the loss, the absolute horror of living day after day in a town full of demons. And now he bleeds himself dry night after night, day after day. He has nothing left to give, no fight in him now. Now he’s just a hollow body, a broken man cursed to live in a place he so desperately despises. He wants out. God, does he want out. 

   But now there’s you. The woman he’s pined after for months. The rare beauty that captured his black heart, a ray of sunshine that showed him the light. It was the small smiles and grazing of skin, the gifted flowers, the afternoon small talks in the wildflower fields. He wishes he got the chance to kiss you, to tell you how much you saved him after his daughter was taken from him. But now it’s too late. He couldn’t save Sarah, and now he can’t save you. And it kills him, it fucking kills him. 

   He hears your gut wrenching screams, hears the crowd chant “Witch” repeatedly as his ears bleed dry. He covers his ears, kneels on the ground as dirt covers the fabric of his worn pants. He can’t hear it, can’t bear to know they’re torturing you. He wants to murder all of them, burn the whole goddamn town down, and maybe he will. Maybe this will push him to his last straw. He certainly won’t watch them burn you. No. He has to do something, anything. 

    He knows they’ll either throw you in a jail cell with venomous snakes or they’ll tie you and leave you in the field overnight. Where bears, creatures of the night, or monsters can take you out before the crack of dawn. He knows they’ll burn you early in the morning, crowd your body with hateful accusations and weapons they use like pitchforks. They won’t give you a chance to explain or to show you’re not guilty. They’ll just swallow your cries whole with their fiery tongues and amber ashes as they set your body alight. 

   He can’t see it, can’t hear it, can’t stand the thought of it. But what can a broken man do in a ruined town filled with cult following people that call themselves saints. He hates them, all of them. But he hates himself the most for not being able to save the people he cared most about. 

   He has to save you, even if it gets himself killed. For he’d rather stand on the thresholds of death with the fiery flames than see your gorgeous face melt into the depths of red embers. He’d walk through the black mist of hell, cross the fiery lakes of no return just to touch the softness of your skin.

   You were innocent, a pure angel in a broken world. He wasn’t going to watch you die. Not tonight, not tomorrow, not ever. 

   

They leave you tied to a post in the middle of the field, a little ways out from the sparkling lights from the little town. They gave you no room to move, gave you no remorse when you whined at the sharp rope digging into your skin. They only laughed at you, spitting hateful words as they left you alone in the chill of night. 

   Now you sulk against the rough bindings, tears streaming down your now wet face, nowhere to go, no one to call. You’re just here. Alone. Hours away from being burned in the field. The one where lost lives cry into the darkness of night, their haunted pleas and screams still filling your ears. You’d cover your ears if you could, drown out the noise with your own cries, but it’s too late. Soon enough you’ll join in on the chorus of the dead.

   You rest your head on the rough post, look up at the blinking stars in the night sky, try to relax and calm your mind. Soon you’ll float up there while your body burns alive. Maybe there you won’t feel any pain, won’t feel anything that might hurt you. And that’s all you can think as the numbness drowns the anxiety out of your frail body.

   Your mind starts to slip to a warmer place, an untouched place that hasn’t been quite explored. A nook deep in your mind that reflects soft brown irises and scents of freshly brewed coffee. Somewhere where you wished you could’ve spent more time, got closer, pushed aside all boundaries and slipped against his plush lips.

   Joel Miller, the only man that had been remotely kind to you in this tainted town. You remember that day in the flower field. That warm, sunny day. He had been so close, his breath blowing against your cheek, his crooked smile shining rays of light against your delicate skin. You felt it, the tension, the longing, the raging desire that almost spilled out of the cracks of broken skin on his calloused fingers. God, you wish you could’ve felt those warm lips melting into yours. All you wanted was one kiss, but now it was too late. You’d never feel his touch again.

   You groan into the worn post, feel the tears begin to lick the sides of your eyes, dig your hands against the jagged rope that cuts into your reddening skin. The more you tug, the more the rope shreds your aching skin. You wince, struggling to stand comfortably in this position. You finally give up, relax as much as you can and kiss tomorrow goodbye. You won’t last long after the sun rises high in the sky. 

   Minutes tick by, the seconds struggling to give you an ounce of redemption. This was it. You were going to die alone, no dreamy sunkissed brown irises to soothe you to sleep, no gravelly voice to tell you everything would be alright. He wouldn’t be there to save you in the end.

   The tears crash over you, silent cries to the fading ghosts of Salem, begging for them to send a message, pleading for one to slip their cold whisps of fingers to untangle you from this rope so you can run far away, far from Salem.

   You close your eyes and pray to anyone that may be listening to send someone, anyone. This can’t be the end, it just can’t.

   You slump your head low, feeling your tears dry on your cold cheeks, eyelashes wet with old tears. This is it, this is… 

   You hear a loud snap in the near distance, hear leather boots crunching against the green grass. Your head shoots up, eyes searching for whatever made the pacing noises in the middle of the night. Your eyes go wide when you see the large form emerging from the shadows, broad shoulders pulling at the blue flannel button-up with each step he takes, rough hands balled into tight fists. Joel. 

   Your mouth drops open, and you suddenly forget to breathe. He stands in front of you, deep brown eyes that reflect sadness of his warm irises, furrowed brows as he slides his eyes over your weathered form, your frayed dress, the claw marks that run down to your bound hands. His lips flinch, jaw clenches as he takes in just what they did to you inside the church. It’s like he consumes your pain, bathes in it, shares your scars that David and the town marked you in. 

   “Joel,” you whisper in a broken tone as a fresh tear slides down the side of your face. He sighs, feeling the sting of a tear in the back of his throat. He tries to speak, but nothing comes out. Just a muted mutter that sounds a lot like your name spilling off his tongue. 

   He huffs, clambers over to you and cuts the rope with one slice of the silver knife, freeing your burning wrists as you stumble from the post and fall against his broad chest, his arms stabilizing you from falling to the ground. 

   You flick your eyes up to his slowly, letting his calloused palms linger on your skin as he grounds you back to earth. You’re so cold, the chilly air marking your skin, but he’s so warm, even with just his hands on you. Warm sunlight, that’s what he is. 

   “Joel, you saved me…” you whisper, voice unstable as your shaky breath escapes your lungs.”Why did you…”

   He stares at you, amber flecks glimmering in the moonlight as he takes a deep, steady breath. “You’re innocent. I couldn’t jus’ stand back and watch ‘em torture you like they did with… well, you know. Sarah… I wouldn’t, I couldn’t. I jus’… couldn’t watch you burn, too,” he says sadly, his shaky breath blowing against your face.

   There’s a second of tension in the air, a breath of something different between the two of you. Just two bodies that simply burn for the other, even if no words are said. It’s there. It’s right here, right now.

   “You never were like the others, you know?” He takes one hand and cradles it on your cheek, taking the tip of his calloused thumb and sliding it up and down gently as you lean into him, into his warm embrace. 

   His eyes flick down to your lips, your eyes begging him to lean in, to take exactly what he’s wanted to do for so very long. Your hand is clasped around his wrist, not willing to let go until his lips are on yours. 

   The air around you stills, the forest behind you now quiet, only the sounds of yours and Joel’s ragged breaths coming in waves, only the quickening heartbeats that quake with every touch of his calloused fingers to your skin.

   Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me.

   His forehead rests on yours, lips brushing carefully against yours. You’re so close, so close to him pressing all his weight into you. He practically shouts your name as his lips draw near. One more move and he’d close all the way in. 

   Just when you close your eyes and wait with anticipation biting at your heels, he’s pulling away from you and running his fingers through his disheveled curls. You try to reach out, but he steps out of your reach and nods his head in the direction of the dark forest. 

   “Go on, get out of here. Before they come lookin’ for ya. Go, now.” His voice is deep, rugged, tormented, his dark eyes glistening with held back tears like he’s fighting himself from telling you to leave. 

   “But…” 

   “Please, jus’ go. If they found you they’d…” His voice drowns out as he hangs his head low, the shadows fading against the greying scruff of his patchy beard. 

   You turn your head and look towards the muted forest. The one that holds tormented ghosts and creatures of the dark. A place you don’t want to go alone, but anywhere would be better than this horror town. But Joel… you can’t seem to leave him behind.

   You snap your head towards him and whisper, “Come with me.”

   He lifts his tired head and stares at you, all wide-eyed and searching your anguished face. “What?” His voice is strangled, like he can’t believe what you’re asking him to do. 

   “Come with me,” you repeat slowly. “There’s nothing here holding you back. I… you… we both had everything taken from us. And I don’t want to leave if that means you’re stuck here alone. You and me… well, we’re the same.”

   He takes a beat to register your words, dips inside his own mind as he relives the day they took Sarah, the day they forced him to watch while his world got torn to shreds. You hold out your hand, and he just stares wide-eyed at it, his fingers curling out, just like he wants to take your hand. He does, he really does, but there’s just one thing holding him back. David.

   He flicks his eyes to the sleeping town and then back at you, as if he has an agenda to get to. He nods his head and looks your way, a plan already set in motion in those flecks of honey. “There’s jus’ one thing I need to do first.” 

   “What’s that?” you ask, interest arising with your quiet voice.

   He looks back to the hollow town, and his eyes narrow and slit together as he sets fire in his mind to this haunted place. His hand clenches into a tight fist, and he spits venom from his tongue. “We’re gonna burn it all down.”

   Your mouth gapes open in shock, eyes wide, but then he’s grabbing your wrist and pulling you along with him. The wind whips through your hair, your heart thunders through your chest when he drags you along back into the dark town. 

   He wastes no time and grabs a large container of gasoline and starts spreading it all along the houses and buildings of the eerie town. You follow along, grabbing your own container and spilling it over bells of hay and wooden boards. You douse everything you see, wanting to burn every single inch of this religious town, wanting to destroy David, the culprit of all this land of turmoil and destruction. 

   You move quickly, barely making a sound as you soak a large ring around the town, watching Joel march up to David’s closed door with a deep scowl on his face. Your eyes go wide as you watch him go through, barely waiting a minute before he’s dragging David by the scruff of his neck, giving him no breath to himself. 

   “What the fuck is this, let me go!” David screams as he kicks and claws at the denim of Joel’s jeans.

   “No,” he growls as he shoves David’s face into the dirt and kicks him hard in the gut, David’s face contorting into blind rage and pain. 

   “This is for my daughter, for not lettin’ her go when she was an innocent little girl,” he seethes as he lands a strong kick under David’s chin, spewing blood every which way. 

   “This is for holdin’ me down and makin’ me watch as you burned her alive. This is for murderin’ my only child, the only thing that kept me sane in this fuckin’ church goin’ town.” He punches a fist against his nose, hearing the crack of bones as David topples over and holds his broken nose. 

   “This is for tryin’ to take away the only other woman that ever shined sunlight in this godforsaken town. This is for burnin’ all her plants, her house, for killin’ everyone she had left. This is for tryin’ to take her away from me.” 

   There’s tears streaming down his worn, tanned face now, pieces of grief and exhaustion reflecting off his glassy brown eyes, hurt mapped along the wrinkled lines on his forehead, pain bleeding from the surface of his now bruised knuckles. 

   You stand there watching him silently, feeling a wet tear fall down your cheek as you consume the pain he’s felt all these years, all the grief that’s hung like a dead weight on his broad shoulders. And you suddenly feel like you understand him completely. He’s broken, just like you are, and all you want to do is wrap your arms around his neck and tell him that you’re here for him, he’s safe with you, always. 

   Another kick and another punch to the face, an endless cycle of taking all his rage and hate on David, the man that took everything from him. After a few seconds he looks up from the ground, a large hand wrapped around David’s bloody collar, a fist hanging just inches from his bruised up face. He stops dead in his tracks as his glistening, tear filled eyes look up at you, and that’s when you feel everything he’s ever felt.

   You take a few cautious steps in his direction, feel another tear lick the corner of your eye, feel your heart shatter with every step you take closer to him. He just watches you, deep breaths leaving his lungs, his tired eyes pleading for someone, anyone to help. 

   One more step and you’re right beside him, reaching a hand out to run calmly through his dark, tousled locks, Joel searching your eyes for a way to escape his misery. He leans into your touch, allows your fingers to slide through his hair, even closes his eyes as a low groan escapes his plush lips.

   Another moment passes gently by, and then he’s rolling David out of the way and wrapping his strong arms tightly around your legs, letting hot tears slide down his face as they hit your bare skin. You let him bury himself in you, let him take the comfort he needs as he grasps you tighter, his quiet tears filling the space between the two of you. 

   This is what he needs, what he always needed. Someone that would listen, that would help take the pain away, someone that would understand what he’s gone through. And that’s you, it’s you. 

   He drags you down to the ground with him and wraps his arms tightly around your back, nuzzling his face into the side of your neck as warm tears fill the cotton of the front of your dress. You wrap your arms around his neck, push your fingers gently through his tousled locks, giving him all the comfort he needs right now from you. He can have it all, it’s his, it’s all his. 

   “It’s okay, Joel. I’m right here. Let it out. All your pain, lay it on me. It’s going to be okay. You’ve got me, I’m not going anywhere. It’s alright,” you coo into the shell of his ear, feeling him relax into your hold, letting his fingers cling around the back of your dress. “You’re safe with me,” you whisper, and that’s when he leans back and looks you dead in the eyes, all glossy eyed and teary from the weight of the world crashing down on him.

   He opens his mouth, looks softly down at you and smiles warmly at you, even through all the pain he still smiles. For you. He smiles for you. 

   “You’re so… good. You’ve always been so good. I should’ve… I should’ve…” He’s rudely interrupted from a coughing, blubbering mess of a man behind him, and he turns sharply over his shoulder to look at David.

   “Well, ain’t that sweet? Sharing a moment together? Please, makes me want to vomit,” David coughs, blood splattering all over the ground from his throat. “Why don’t you two love birds just burn in hell where you belong?”

   Something snaps in Joel, his eyes go pitch black and his scowl digs into the side of his mouth as he gets up and drags David to the church by his bloody ankle. Joel throws him inside the white peeling doors and drenches him in gasoline until he can barely form a coherent sentence.

   “No, you burn in hell,” Joel growls, lighting a match and throwing it on his body. 

   Joel takes your hand and backs you up slowly, watching David writhe in pain while the church starts to topple and crumble on top of him, the worn walls collapsing from the amber fire that starts to consume the haunted town.

   “Run,” Joel pleads as he takes your hand and leads you to the dark forest, only looking back to hear the horror screams and watch the burning flames swallow the entire town. 

   Your breath is shaky, your feet burning with every step you take, but Joel keeps you upright as his fingers lock around yours and pulls you through the thick, foggy night. You don’t look back, block out the dying screams like you did with Cassandra, just focus on your quick breath and your tired feet.

   You run and run and run, escaping anything that can hurt you, anything that can claw your skin and drag you back into the burning flames of the lost town. They’re gone now, vanished in the fiery flames, burned alive just like that did to all those innocent women. 

   It’s over, done, you escaped, you got out. All because of Joel. Joel. Your savior in disguise. 

   Joel, Joel, Joel. He’s all you see, all you know, all you feel. It’s here with you right now, he’s here. Joel is here. 

   He takes a moment to catch his breath as moonlight shines down on the sweat of his thick brows, cascading off the reflection of his tanned skin beneath a towering oak tree. You focus on him, his quick breaths, his dark eyes that seem to cast shadows over you, thick hands grasping against the rough bark as he slowly looks up, hovers just a little closer and then stares, mouth partly open as he takes in your windblown hair and your stormy eyes.

   Another drawn breath and he’s sucking it back in. “Are you alright?” he asks quickly, eyes piercing into yours with worry.

   “I’m… I’m alright,” you answer, still dazed from what happened minutes ago. The fire, the angry ambush of David, the whole town now scorching in the flames where they belong, where they should’ve been long ago.

   He takes another step forward, the worn leather of his boots meeting your scraped toes. “I should’ve known they were gonna do it. I should’ve fuckin’ known they were gonna burn your house down, accuse you of bein’ a witch, should’ve fuckin’ knew they planned to murder you in the break of daylight under flames.”

   He hangs his head in defeat, like he didn’t already save you, like he could’ve done more, and your heart breaks from the guilt that eats him alive. “If I would’ve jus’ kept goin’ to that goddamned church. If I would’ve fuckin’ listened to what the people in town were sayin’ ‘bout you. If I would’ve jus’ been a better man I could’ve saved you. Maybe I could’ve…”

   You press a palm to his heaving chest, curl your fingers around the soft blue flannel, engrave yourself just a little into his damp skin, enough to feel yourself in his fast beating heart. He stills beneath your touch, looks down and puts his entire attention on you, waiting with tear stained eyes right on the verge of spilling.

   “Joel, you did save me. You got me out before they could burn me. You took David out, you put the town of hell to rest. You freed me from my bindings, you came with me, you didn’t leave me alone. You saved everything about me…”

   His eyes bore into yours, something like desire and fate twisting together, an inkling of relief leaving his doe eyes as his fingers cautiously trace against your bare arm, slow circles of the pad of his calloused thumb dancing across your wrist like a tide full of warm waves lapping against your body. It’s comforting, magnetic even as his skin connects with yours so slowly, so steadily, almost like a lazy river rippling through the forest. 

   He sighs, slowly lifts his large hand to cup your cheek, calloused fingers gently drawing lines against your soft skin. You lean into it, breathe in his pinecone scent, almost taste what his lips might feel like on yours. Like a breath of fresh air, a breath of life. 

   “I had to save you. You were the only thing left that kept my heart beating. The only sunshine I saw under those cloudy grey skies,” he breathes, glossy eyes slipping into yours as they flick down to your mouth. 

   Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me.

   “I should’ve kissed you back in that flower field when I had the chance. The way your hair flowed behind your shoulders, your sparkling eyes, your fuckin’ breathtaking smile. I jus’…” He leans his forehead down against yours, lips skating across your mouth as he passes them by, his gentle caress of your face as soft as a feather. 

   And he’s so soft, like a red rose petal beneath all the thorns and vines that disconnects him from anyone else. He doesn’t show this side of himself to anyone else, but he shows you. He shows you.

   “You just what?” you whisper, holding your breath as he cages you against the trunk of the tree, one hand still caressing your face with his rough palm while the other wraps around your waist.

   Another breath, another touch from his thumb as it traces along your bottom lip. He looks down, focuses in on your lips as he wets his own, hazel eyes staring down at you as he gulps down any fear he may be holding on to. 

   “I jus’ need to… need to… fuck, jus’ need you on my lips, sweetheart.” 

   Before you can move an inch he crashes down on your lips, cradles your face with his large palms as you sink into his broad chest, your fingers twisting into the flannel fabric that clings to you. 

   The kiss is slow, desperate, hungry. You feel as if this is the first time you’re breathing life into your body as Joel gives himself to you. He pulls you in by your waist as your arms circle around his neck, one hand combing through his messy curls as he groans into your mouth.

   You part your lips, allow him to slot his tongue in as you taste all of him colliding against your own tongue. You moan into his mouth, let his tongue chase yours as you down the whisky taste of him, lapping him up like he’s your only oxygen supply left. You think you feel forever in his taste. 

   He tugs at your worn dress, slides the cotton material down your arms until it hits the dirt on the ground. You quickly pull his flannel free, tugging the leather belt loose while his tongue licks feverishly into your mouth. 

   He brings you down gently to the ground, makes sure your body lands on top of his fanned out flannel, makes sure you’re okay when he disconnects from your lips and looks down at you with a hesitant stare.

   “Is this okay? We can stop if it’s too much. We don’t have to…”

   “Joel,” you stop him, give him a small smile as you nod up to him. “It’s okay. I want you to. Please, don’t stop,” you plead.

   He takes your answer and swallows it down, sits back on his heels as he gazes down at your splayed out, bare body under the glistening moonlight, looking starstruck from just how absolutely breathtaking you are under the glow of the moon. He thinks you look angelic, like you’re made of glitter and gold, like you’re made just for him.

   He takes his hand and runs it along your jawline, down your neckline, over the dip of your hips, stopping at the top of your thigh. He lets a sigh escape his mouth as he stares at the goddess that’s before him, and he thinks he’s so lucky to be alive, to have you in front of him, unharmed, in his arms where he can keep you safe. 

   “You’re so beautiful, jus’ like that field full of flowers you stood in, with your hair all tangled in the wind.”

   Your breath hitches, eyes widen as you take in just what he said to you. He thinks you’re beautiful. “You think I’m beautiful?” you ask quietly, lips parted as his hazel eyes glisten down to yours. 

   “Yeah. I do, darlin’. Gorgeous.” 

   Then he’s leaning down and kissing you again while his large hands push your thighs apart. It’s like your mind carries you off into the clouds as his lips drag down your neckline, quiet moans blowing through your lips when his warm lips take your breasts into his mouth, pebbling your nipples as he sinks down down down and lands right between your thighs.

   You moan, feeling him lick a thick strip up your core, making your head knock back into the softness of the flannel while he spreads your folds and slowly starts to circle your buzzing clit. 

   You card your fingers through his tousled curls, hear him groan into your dripping core while he laps up all the slick between your thighs, tugging your bundle of nerves into his wanting mouth, sinking his tongue deep into your dripping hole, feeding all your desires as he gives you pleasure like you’ve never felt before. 

   You feel the white hot heat slide down your spine, feel your breaking point about to come loose, feel every stroke of Joel start to unlatch the tidal waves in your core. You feel as if you’re kissing the stars as he pulls you closer to his mouth, wraps his strong arms a little tighter around your thighs, laps his wet tongue up and down your core like he’s been starving for you for months. And now he has you, right on the edge of breaking.

   “Joel,” you moan, “I’m gonna… gonna…” 

   “Go on, sweetheart. Come for me. Let me take you all the way. Show me jus’ how good I’m makin’ you feel,” he groans between the licks, taking his time to slide his tongue in slow circles around your aching clit.

   You feel two thick fingers curl up into your heated core, feel him press up to heights you never could yourself, feel him collide with that spongy spot against your wall that makes you see stars. One more lick against your sensitive bundle of nerves and you’re arching your back and calling his name while your slick spills down your thighs, into Joel’s waiting mouth.

   It feels electric the way he laps all your slick up, his hot mouth blowing against your core, eliciting another moan from your parted lips as he licks and licks and licks until you’re a writhing mess beneath his mouth. 

   He looks up from between your legs, sticky slick coating his thick beard, eyes glossy from pulling an orgasm out of you, hands planted firmly against the top of your thighs as he looks up at you, out of breath from diving into you. 

   “You taste jus’ like honeysuckle, beautiful. Like sugar on my lips,” he smiles, the edges of his hooded eyes glowing under the moonlight. And you swear you’ve never seen anything more magical in your life. 

   “Joel, need you…” you whimper out, reaching for his body.

   “What do ya need, darlin’? Tell me what you want,” he whispers into the chill of the night. 

   You take a breath and blow it out, hoping your nerves won’t get in the way. “You, Joel. Want all of you. Inside me. Want you anyway I can have you,” you whine, desperate for the friction of his body against yours.

   He smiles up at you, pushes his dark jeans down, his boxers trailing after them until his hard cock is pressed against his stomach, red tip smothered in precum, his thick vein traveling along the underside of his cock, ready to split you in two. 

   Your eyes grow wide watching him crowd your body, his thick cock pressing against your soaked folds, rubbing up and down to collect your slick all over his massive length. He’s huge, but you can take him. You want him, now. 

   “Slow breaths now. Might be a stretch. Jus’ relax, I’ve got you, baby,” he coos, relaxing your body while he slowly enters inside your dripping core. 

   He gradually plunges into you, drowning out your moans as his lips land on yours, swallowing your gasps as he stretches you to the brim, his thick width rutting in and out of you, bottoming out until you can’t feel anything, can't taste anything but him. Joel, Joel, Joel. He’s everywhere, consuming you, bodies twisted together while he rocks back and forth, both sharing moans that get swallowed by the other, like you’re magnetized together. 

   It’s like you’re one in the same, two broken bodies that mend each other back together, two fragile souls that burn for the other, dance in the flames while your bodies get lost in the other’s, lost souls that found each other through pain and grief, Joel colliding into you like a star crossed lover, someone you’ve waited years for.

   You break again, nails scratching down his tanned back while your walls hug him tight, pouring out hot liquid that covers him in you. 

   “Ahh fuck. Squeezin’ me so tight, can’t hold on, sweetheart. Feels so fuckin’ good,” he grits through his teeth, trying with all his might to slip out of you before he spills himself inside of you.

   You lock your legs around his hips, make him stop before his warmth disappears, letting him know that it’s okay, that you want him to stay. “It’s okay. Let go. Come inside, Joel. Need you, need all of you,” you beg, long lashes batting up at him as you coax him to stay.

   “You sure?” he asks, eyebrows knitting together into concern as he hears your plea. 

   “Yes,” you breathe, your voice panting from the come down of your intense orgasm. “Inside me,” you repeat, a little louder.

   He hears you loud and clear. He thrusts inside of you, as deep as he can go, kissing your cervix as he grunts and grits his teeth together, eliciting another moan from you as he speeds up his pace.

   Once, twice, three more times and he’s throwing his head back, a low moan slipping from his clenched teeth as thick ropes of cum spill inside you, filling you so full that you moan out in bliss, completely saturated with his seed inside you, and that’s what does it. What consummates the two of you together, like stars in the night sky, two lovers that burn for each other.

   He falls against your side, scoops you up and sews you to his broad chest as his fingers trace the side of your sweat covered face. 

   You’re both panting, both exhausted from the love making, no room to do anything else but drown in the other’s ecstasy. You’re just two warm bodies now, a false witch, a beaten man, two bodies that bleed together who slowly mend one another’s wounds. 

   He traces your lips, his calloused thumb perfectly dancing across your face as he stares down at you, the woman he’s pined after for months, the one he knew he’d eventually fall for. And he did. He fell hard. 

   “What do we do now, Joel?” you ask quietly, while he continues to trace the lines of your skin. 

   “What we always do. Survive. But we do it together this time. This time, we thrive.”

   The way he’s looking at you with big doe eyes, and the way he’s touching you all soft and tender makes you feel things. Things you’ve never felt before. Like your heart swells just at the faint glow of his smile, his caramel eyes swirling into yours, his body crowding yours with the softest touch you ever felt before. Maybe you love him, you do love him. And you think maybe he loves you, too. But that’s for another night to uncover because right now this is where you are, bathing in each other’s moonlight, feeling sparks like the fireflies that dance in the forest light surrounding you, almost like this is magic. Joel is magic. He’s your safe space, your equal. 

   You sink into his chest, wrap your arms a little tighter around him while his lips graze across your forehead, telling you that it’ll be alright, that both of you will be just fine. 

   “Joel?” 

   “Hmm?” he hums, his deep voice reverberating through your entire body like cords connected to an acoustic guitar, like he used to play.

   “Promise me the worst is over, that we can make it maybe to the coast, find a new town, build a new life. A life that maybe isn’t so broken?”

   He sighs into your hair, scoops you closer into his arms and kisses you softly across your lips. “I can promise that the worst is over. No one’s ever gonna lay another finger on you, not on my watch, sweetheart. We’re free. I’ll take you to the coast. We’ll build a new life together. You and me. We’ve got the whole world in our hands now, and nothing can stop us now. No more flames, no more embers, it’s jus’ us.”

   You lean into him, as close as you can get while his hand traces up and down your back soothingly. You think this is exactly where you belong, in Joel’s arms, taking on the world together. You can do anything as long as you have him by your side, your guiding light out of the flames.

Tagging some friends who seemed interested 😊 @ozarkthedog @alltheirdamn @covetyou @chronically-ghosted @sawymredfox

@littlevenicebitch69 @604to647 @joelmillerisapunk @milla-frenchy @aurorawritestoescape

@vivian-pascal @survivingandenduring @itsokbbygrl @msjarvis @mountainsandmayhem