Stranger Things X Reader - Blog Posts

✯Masterlist✯

Welcome to daisies and domming, where all your wildest dreams come true...want to see what we have to offer?

✫Jujutsu Kaisen✫

Side Effects (NSFW) - subby!Nanami Kento x reader; Your boyfriend has been on edge recently - most likely due to a rapid increase in curses over the last few weeks - so when you get a call from Shoko, you assume the worst. Lucky for you both, he’s not dead. However, she informs you that he’s experiencing some strange side effects, so you find yourself rushing to Jujutsu Tech to deal with a rather unfortunate… problem.

Boxing Day (SFW) - various JJK characters x reader; You and your partner had a Merry Christmas, but now it’s time for you to move on to the new year! How long does it take for you to take down all of your Christmas decorations, and what challenges do you run into along the way? 

✫Stranger Things✫

Movie Night For Two (Can I Call it a Date?) (SFW) - Robin Buckley x reader; Steve can't make movie night - normally you’d be sad but alone time with the girl of your dreams is just what you're looking for.

Boy Next Door (NSFW) - sub!Billy Hargrove x reader; You’ve lived in the trailer park nearly your entire life, long enough to know that nothing in Hawkins was ever normal. So when the new king of the school starts dropping by your trailer at ungodly hours, you don’t even blink - why would you? Weirder shit’s happened here, and you’re certainly not complaining either, not when the king decides to get on his knees for you.

You Jealous, Mrs. Wheeler? (NSFW) - Part 2 to Boy Next Door; sub!Billy Hargrove x reader; You assumed your fling with Billy was a one time thing - he wasn’t exactly known for his commitment, after all. So imagine your surprise when he flirts with you, in public, no less. 'Maybe he’s messing with me,' you thought, until a knock resonates on your door that very same day, and suddenly you find yourself with a needy Billy Hargrove in your bed.

Billy Teaches You to Drive (NSFW Drabble) - just some thoughts about Billy Hargrove teaching AFAB!reader to drive after they fail the test more than a couple times...and maybe some distractions along the way, too <3

✫Obey Me!✫

Just Want You to Stay (NSFW) - switch!Belphegor x switch!reader; Soft, sleepy sex with the sloth demon himself. MC is gender-neutral!

Control (NSFW) - sub!Barbatos x reader; Barbatos believes in the unwavering, whether it’s his loyalty or his belief that he is in control. GN!MC shows him otherwise.

Just Let Go (NSFW) - Request; AFAB!sub!Lucifer x reader; Lucifer has been holed up in his office for almost a week now - and MC has had enough. Lucifer needs a break, and a joke from Asmo turns into a perfect plan to get Lucifer to stop working. AFAB!Lucifer and AMAB!MC!!

It's Always Sunny With You (NSFW) - Request; sub!Mammon x reader; Mammon always takes his brothers’ harsh words head on - he doesn’t care what they have to say about him! But after overhearing his brothers talking behind his back, Mammon isn’t sure how much more he can take. Sometimes, your little puppy needs to be reminded how much you love him (and just how good he is).

Prefer AO3? Find Me There:

Daisies-and-Domming AO3 Page <3

𝓻𝓮𝓺𝓾𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓼 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓸𝓹𝓮𝓷!

PLEASE PLEASE DO A SECOND PART TO BOY NEXT DOOR.

I never knew I needed sub Billy until I read that

You Jealous, Mrs. Wheeler? (NSFW)

I'm back everyone~ I took a little mental health break, but now we're back for real, and better than ever!! Sorry to everyone that put through a request - I'm working on them right now (there may be some non-request posts inbetween, however, because even on break I couldn't help but write a bit), and they'll be out soon. Thanks for waiting, y'all!!

Like vague S3 spoilers…? Not much though promise .^. Also if the spacing is a bit off I'm very sorry - tumblr kept yelling at me for having too many characters per text block so i just uber-spaced everything.

Summary: You assumed your fling with Billy was a one time thing - he wasn’t exactly known for his commitment, after all. So imagine your surprise when he flirts with you, in public, no less. Maybe he’s messing with me, you thought, until a knock resonates on your door that very same day, and suddenly you find yourself with a needy Billy Hargrove in your bed.

Warnings: smut, cursing, dom!reader, sub!billy, degradation/name calling, verbal argument (Steve and reader), choking, unprotected sex (wrap your willy, silly), slight dacryphilia Let me know if you think I missed anything! All characters are over 18 :) – – – Thank y’all so much for the support of “Boy Next Door” 😭 I’m genuinely so embarrassed this took as long as it did - but I hope you like it anyways! Setting this right before S3 means that we get some lifeguard Billy action (god I am an absolute whore)!! I spent a lot of time editing this (mostly because I felt awful for not getting this out when I said I would), but please still let me know if I missed anything!! Much love, and I hope you enjoy some more sub!Billy content. – – – “Remind me why we’re here again?” you said, glancing over at Harrington. The freezer at Scoops had broken, so Steve and Robin had been set free for the day.

“Yeah, I’d also love to understand your tiny little peabrain right about now,” Robin said with a groan. “I did not need to see this many shirtless middle-aged men today.”

“We’re gathering information!” Steve murmured. “Hargrove must be doing something to get all the ladies to look at him like that.”

“You’re too nice to them, Steve,” you said, shooting him a grin. “The ladies like the ‘bad boy’ look and the blatant ignorance, it’s hot.”

He shot you a glare before digging through his bag. “Here. Let’s go.” You frowned, the swimsuit shoved into your hands clearly a size too small. “I’m not here to flaunt, Steve, I’m here to make fun of you for being obsessed with Billy. You sure you’re not into him or somethin’?”

“Let’s just humour him,” Robin said, elbowing you. “Now we get to watch him ogle Hargrove up close, instead of from far away like a creep.”

“I am NOT ogling him!!” you and Robin share a look but reluctantly follow him through the gate, pausing to pay.

If only they knew, you thought as you changed, that I’m the one ogling him.

After your not-so-quick fuck with Billy, you had assumed he would never talk to you again, and you weren’t completely wrong. Sure, he still came by, drunk and sober, to talk, but he never once mentioned your little fling. Was he embarrassed that you dommed the shit out of him? Did he regret it?

Then again, you mused, I haven’t brought it up either.

“Helloooo?” rapid knocking came from outside the door. “While I think it’s cute that you use the single stall family bathroom to change, Steve is starting to get antsy. He’s already drooling~”

You snort, shaking your head. “He’s going to hate us.”

“That’s half the fun!” Robin exclaims. “Now hurry up, or I might die of old age before we can belittle Steve.”

You unlock the door, giving her a pointed stare. “Let’s go, loser.”

“Hey, I’m no loser! I’ll have you know I’m to coolest kid around- oh my god Steve looks dumb.”

You can’t help the startled laughter that jumped up from you. “Holy shit.”

You knew Steve would have to wear a lot of sunscreen - most of Hawkins was pasty white, so it’s no surprise he fit the stereotype - but god was it funny. He was lathered, coated in so much sunscreen that you were pretty sure he’d never have to put on any ever again. You understood maintaining healthy skin and using sunscreen to prevent an unsavoury tanning, but this was ridiculous.

“You know what?” you said, snorting at him as you approach. “I think the reason the ladies don’t want to hit it is because they don’t realise they can - you look like a ghost, Steven.”

“I value my skin, thank you very much,” he said, pouting. “Leave me alone, and don’t call me Steven.”

“Stop fighting, lovebirds,” Robin said, sending you a shit-eating grin and a wink. “Let’s go find Steve’s Prince Charming.”

You rolled your eyes but trotted along after Robin. Steve had already tried to flirt with you before, but your lack of interest in him beyond friendship led his attempts into a ditch. Robin was well aware, but always took the chance to tease anyway. Despite being a recent addition to your friend group (which had consisted of Steve and a literal pack of children), Robin fit right in. – – – “God, he’s gross,” Steve said, snapping you back into reality. You had been at the pool for nearly an hour, hour and a half, give or take, and Steve was still at it. “I mean look at him - who would want that anyway?”

“You, obviously,” Robin said, grinning. “I mean, you’re the one that wanted to stare at him shirtless. For literally over an hour.”

You felt a familiar tingle building under your skin as you stared, ignoring your friends. Fuck, the things you wanted to do to him. You wanted to make him squirm, show this whole goddamn pool what a slut he was for you. Sit him down in his silly little lifeguard chair and ride him until his eyes crossed and he was begging you to stop, fucked out and used, just for you.

You rubbed your legs together, trying your best to hide your arousal. “Yeah Steve, got something to say for yourself?”

“We’re here for research purposes,” he groaned. “Can we stop with the whole ‘Steve’s in love with Hargrove’ bit?”

“Ah yes,” you said, sending him a smirk. “Just like how you watched women’s basketball ‘for science.’”

“Because it is!! It’s important to understand all forms of basketball in order to be a good player, and I was the best, I’ll have you know-”

“Hey, darlin’,” a voice came from beside you, startling you slightly. “Whatcha doin’ here? Come to say hello?”

You flushed, the tips of your ears burning. “Hey, Bills.”

He grinned as you spun around, pulling you closer. When had he gotten over here anyways? “Miss me?”

“In your dreams, Hargrove,” you murmur, too breathy to be taken seriously. “Think you’re the one who missed me - ‘specially with how touchy you’re gettin’, sweetheart.”

He let go and you choke down a whine, not wanting him to realise how much of an effect he had on you. Instead, you grab his hand, bringing it up to cradle your face (and also pepper kisses along his palm, but hopefully from this angle Robin and Steve couldn’t tell).

“C’mon, pretty boy, admit it: you missed me,” you said smugly.

“And what if I did?” he said, eyes half-lidded. “Missed your pretty face, your curves, the feel of you wrapped around me-”

“If you think that you have any power over me you’re wrong,” you say, gaze heavy and smile sharp. “Know your place, baby boy.”

He shivered against you, opting to pull away before it got any more heated between you. “Well darl’, I’ve got a job to do. Stop by sometime, yeah? You know where to find me.”

“Nice try, Hargrove,” you said, eyes feral. “But if you need anything from me you’re going to have to beg for it.”

He rolled his eyes but the way that his swim shorts bulged a bit in the front was telling. You shook your head, eyes following him hungrily as he sat back down in his lifeguard chair, arms shifting to cover his growing erection.

“I’m sorry,” Robin says, bewildered. “You saw that, too, right? What the fuckity fuck was that, y/n??”

“We’re just pals,” you say so unconvincingly that even you wince a bit. “Good ol’ buddies, who hang out sometimes, you know, the usual-”

“Did you two fuck?” Steve exclaimed, turning some heads. “I swear to god if you two fucked.”

“Steve!” you whispered-yelled, mortified. “Public place?? Literally half the town is here??”

He freezes a bit before spinning around. “Car, now. You’ve got some explaining to do.”

You groan, looking off towards Billy (who clearly saw that whole interaction, smug bastard). Sending him a wink, you follow an angry Steve and a dumbstruck Robin through the gate and towards Steve’s car. You could practically feel the rumours starting already, or perhaps that was just the glares of the middle-aged women who wanted a piece of Billy. All the tired, suburban moms who had been flirting with him since day one were probably pissed, you realised, but honestly you could care less. You had bigger fish to fry right now. Like Steve and Robin, for example.

“I’m sorry,” Steve said, clicking the car door closed. “But you’ve got five seconds to explain what just happened before I explode on you and tell you how irresponsible flinging around with Hargrove is-”

“Shut up,” you snap, surprising even yourself. “I’m not ‘flinging around’ with him. We fucked once, Steve, once. Normally we just, y’know, hang out, like friends do. Can you not handle that I’m friends with someone other than you?”

“Friends don’t fuck,” he said, plainly. “Normal friends don’t do whatever that was at the pool, either.”

“I didn’t think he’d do that,” you shot back. “He’s not even that flirty in private, why would I have expected him to flirt with me in public?”

Well, that was a lie. Billy flirted with you any chance he could get, which left a nearly palpable tension in the air that both of you promptly ignored. You flirted back, of course, because it seemed to all be joking. But the way he acted at the pool was starting to suggest otherwise.

“I think Steve’s just jealous because you got the boy,” Robin teased, clearly trying to lighten the air. “He wanted Billy aaaall to himself!”

You laughed, trying to let her lighten the mood. “He sure did.”

“I- no I didn’t! Do you ever fucking listen?” he yelled, startling you and Robin into a stunned silence. “He’s not good for you, that damn Hargrove. He’s just using you, like he uses everyone else. He’s manipulating you, y/n, and you’re just too in love to see it.”

“I’m not in love with him,” you said calmly, far too calmly for someone who probably was guilty of exactly what you were accused of. “We’re friends who fucked one time and never did it again, can we please drop it?”

“No!” Steve yells, clearly not anywhere near ready to drop the subject. “He’s just going to hurt you, y/n, you deserve better than that!!”

“Oh, so someone like you?” you say, venom laced in your tone. “Is that what this is, Steve? Because today alone you’ve hurt me more than in the months that I’ve been friends with Billy. Not sure that you’re an ideal candidate, either. First you dragged me on this dumb little expedition, which had a borderline stalker-ish intention, then you insult me like I don’t understand my own boundaries. I deserve to be treated like I have a brain in my skull, Steve.”

The car went silent, heavy with tension. Robin shifted uncomfortably in her seat, and no one spoke, not even when Steve pulled up to your trailer and dropped you off. You storm inside, slamming the door behind you, leaving Steve fuming in the car alongside a clearly uncomfortable Robin. Your parents weren’t here, which meant you had the house to yourself to wallow in anger (and possibly self-pity). You saw where Steve was coming from: Billy didn’t have a great reputation, and you got easily emotionally attached sometimes. You pause in your pacing. Honestly, Steve was probably closer to right than you wanted to admit. But you deserved to right to make your own choices, even when they’re stupid ones.

Fuck, you hated fighting with your friends. Groaning, you flop down on the couch. Well, now was a great time to pop a cassette into your walkman and sing until your lungs hurt. That never failed to make you feel at the very least marginally better. You shoved yourself off the couch and trudged to your room.

You were digging through your cassettes for the perfect soundtrack for your melancholy mood when a knock shattered your focus. It was still the middle of the afternoon, that better not be who you think it is…

“y/n! I’ve decided to grace you with my presence, the least you could do is open the door,” a smug voice came from outside the door. You throw open the door and drag him in by the collar of his shirt.

“Listen here, Hargrove, your little stunt at the pool today might’ve ruined my friendship with Steve and Robin, so you’re gonna listen to me today, yeah?”

He nodded, frozen. You grinned, feral, locking the door behind him and waving him towards your bedroom. He followed you, eyes still wide in shock, mouth opening and closing uselessly as you shoved him onto your bed.

“Say red if you want me to stop at any point,” you say, softly, before allowing your gaze to harden again. “Now do you know what you’ve done?”

“I- I’ve been bad,” he said slowly, like he was almost unsure in your presence.

You smirked, hovering over him. “Mhm, baby. And what do bad boys get?”

“Oh, fuck off, don’t fucking give me that shit, let’s just get to the fun stuff-”

You wrapped a hand around his throat and squeezed, letting out a low groan when Billy’s eyes rolled back and his hips buck up into the air.

“Such a useless little slut, huh?” you said, staring down at him condescendingly. “All it takes is a little squeeze and you’re absolutely leaking for me.”

He sends you a glare, and you squeeze a little harder in response. Your unoccupied hand moves to palm him through his shorts, his swim shorts to be exact. You blink at that before sending Billy a wicked grin.

“So desperate you couldn’t even wait, huh, pretty boy? Left work just to let me fuck you, hm?”

Even while he was rutting into your hand, Billy couldn’t drop the attitude.. “Sure it ain’t - fuck, darl’ - the other way around? Can’t keep your - mngh - hands off me.”

“Fine, then,” you said, pulling away. “I won’t touch you since that’s clearly what you want.”

“Hey, wait - that’s not fair darl’, can’t jus’ pull your hand away like that-”

“Why not, hm? Thought I was the desperate one, sweetheart, what happened?” you faux pouted. “Unless you’re willing to beg for me, I don’t think I’ll be putting my hands back anytime soon.”

Heat flashed in his eyes, but he complied. “Please, pretty thing, need your hands, need you on me, need you - uhn!”

Your hand goes back to his throat, opting to push him down onto his back and straddle his waist. Your hips roll back, feeling his erection straining against you. He tried to buck up into you, but you weren’t having it.

“You take what you’re given, whore,” you say condescendingly. “Or you get nothing at all.”

“‘m sorry, please, please, keep touching me, I need - ungh!”

You chuckle, pleased with how sensitive he was. “God, gonna cum already? We just started, sweetheart, can you not take it?”

“I can!” he exclaimed, glassy eyes meeting yours in a panic. “I’ll be good for you, so please-”

You pull back and he whines, arms reaching to pull you back. You smack them away, glaring down at him. He gets the message and drops back down on the bed, waiting and piliant. You reach for his swim shorts (the fact that he didn’t even change before coming over sending a sharp wave of pleasure down your spine) and tug, watching as he scrambled to help you get them off. Tossing them off to fuck knows where, you turn to admire the boy you have in your bed.

Billy was spread on the bed, hair messy and eyes just starting to come back into focus. His cock twitched as you stared, clearly loving the way you were fucking him with your eyes. You trailed a gentle hand up his leg, revelling in the way he shivered, and gave his cock a gentle squeeze.

“Likin’ what you see, darlin’?” he said, propping himself up on his elbows. “Bet you’re soakin’ for me sweetheart, just waiting for me to fuck you with my- fuck - big cock, huh? Shit - feels good, pretty thing, keep goin-”

“What makes you think you’re in charge here, baby?” you murmur, pouting. “Thought you were going to be good for me today but guess you don’t wanna cum today. That’s fine, I don’t mind using you like the good little fucktoy you are.”

His cock twitches in your hand, but his face drops as desperation sets in. “Wait, darl’, ‘m sorry, didn’ mean it, please keep touching me, I’ll be a good boy- ahn!”

You grin, jerking his cock harshly enough to hurt. “I don’t think you will, baby. You’re just a little slut, doin’ anything to get yourself off. What about me, huh? Didn’t think that I would want somethin’, too?”

He shook his head, frantic. “No, never, ‘m sorry, I’ll do anything, just- please.”

“Mhm, I don’t know,” you say, pretending to consider as you continue to tug at his cock. “Not sure your pathetic little cock could even get me off anyways. Maybe I should leave you here, let you take care of your little problem while I go get myself some real cock-”

“No no no please,” he whined, pitchy and pathetic. “Can use my mouth, anything, just please help me, ‘ll do anythin’, please - nooo, why’d you stop?”

“Said I could use your mouth,” you said, faking confusion as you blinked down at him. “‘less you changed your mind about wanting to cum.”

His head bobbed, nodding so rapidly that if he wasn’t drunk off your hand you might think he’d lost his mind. You place your hands on either side of his head and move to straddle his face, grinning as he stares, mesmerised.

“Likin’ what you see, darlin’?” you mock, grin feral. “Gonna open me up, nice and good? C’mon, baby, get to it.”

His hands grip at your thighs, pulling you down into him. He mouths at you, tongue rough as it pierces your walls. You groan, hips rolling into his tongue subconsciously. Fuck, he was good with his tongue.

“T-that’s it baby, keep goin’,” you groan, pulling yourself taut just to keep any semblance of control. “Fuck, good boy, jus’ like that - ngh - knew you had it in you to be good for me - mngh!”

You clench around him, his tongue working magic. If he kept it up, you’d be unravelling far too soon for your liking. You rolled your hips again, smirking as Billy’s eyes glossed over and he ate you out like a man starving.

You pulled away, snorting softly at the way he chased after your taste. “God, such a whore, hm? Wants to drown himself in me, can’t help but want more.”

He whines, hands gripping your thighs in a way that you know will leave bruises later. “Jus’ wanna be good, please, wanna make you feel good, please let me!”

You smirk, moving to stand with shaky legs. “You need to be patient, baby. You can do that much for me, can’t you? Or did you go dumb from eatin’ me out?”

He shook his head. “Didn’ go dumb!! Can be patient for you, don’ worry.”

You move onto your knees at the edge of the bed, pulling him so his legs are framing your face. “Gonna get you nice an’ wet then, pretty boy. Don’t move, ‘kay? If you’re good, maybe I’ll consider using your little cock to get me off. Sound good?”

“Y-yeah, yeah, fuck,” he said, throwing his head back with a groan. “Fuck, please.”

You lap gently at the head of his cock, a low chuckle escaping your mouth as he grapples at the sheets. His grip was tight, knuckles white with the effort of not moving. You lick a long stripe up the side of his cock before swallowing around the head. He lets out a pitchy moan, a flush spreading down his neck.

“Such a slut, huh?” you say between kitten licks. “Barely gotten my tongue on your cock and you’re already about to cum, aren’t you?”

He shook his head, watery eyes staring down at you. “Not gonna cum without your permission, so please keep goin’, I’ve been - ngh - I’ve been good so please - mgh, fuck, uhn!”

You took him as far as you could, gagging a bit as his cock hit the back of your throat. You begin to bob, your hand twisting around his base in sync with your movements. The noises he made were absolutely gorgeous - little grunts followed by long moans, pitchy and uncontrolled - fueling your movements. You could feel him holding back, thighs tensing as he used everything in him not to move into your touch.

“Close, please, can I cum?” he begged, hands clawing at the sheets. “Please, ‘ve been good - oh - please le’ me - fuck, fuck, ngh - cum, please!”

You pull away, smirking. “No.”

He whimpers, tears streaking down his face. “No, no, put your hand back, please, need to feel you, please let me-”

“I said no,” you said, biting at his thighs. “You’ve been such a good boy, don’t get bratty on me now.”

He puffs, moving to take his cock in his own hands and finish the job. You jump into action, grabbing his hands and pinning them above his head, letting your knees fall on either side of his hips. He wails, sounding broken, trying weakly to buck up and get some friction.

“And I really thought you were going to be good today,” you said, giving him a frown. “You do things my way or we’re doing nothing at all and that’s final. Do you understand?”

He nods, eyes frantic. You can feel the heat from his straining cock below you, practically begging all on its own to fill you up.

“I asked you a question baby,” you said, letting go of his hands to rub a gentle hand across his cheek. “I expect words, darling, or I might just think you’re ignoring me…”

He jolts below you, stumbling to string together coherent words. “Please, please, ‘m sorry for tryin’ to touch myself, I was bad, but I can be good! I can be so good for you darl’, please, please - ngh!”

You grind down hard, grinning as he writhes below you. His hands twitch above his head, but he doesn’t reach for you - he knows better, you realize, and the thought sends a sick thrill down your spine. God, you were excited to absolutely ruin this boy.

“Listen here, baby,” you say, biting your lip to keep your own sounds from spilling out. His eyes snap to yours, tears prickling at the corner of his eyes. “I’m going to use this pathetic little cock of yours until I’m satisfied. If you can make me cum then maybe, maybe, I’ll consider letting you cum, ‘kay? Be good for me, won’t you?”

He groans, a low and throaty sound, nodding. “I can do that, darlin’, promise, please, just please put it in, let me feel you - mgh - wan’ feel you wrapped around me, please, need it, need it more than - mph!”

You slam your lips to his, ravaging his mouth as you reach back and line him up with your entrance. You knew that just his mouth wasn’t sufficient prep, but at this point you were just as desperate as him, legs shaky with anticipation as you sank down. He sobbed into your mouth, throwing his head back as you took him to the hilt. You hissed, waiting until the sting of the stretch faded to a dull throb before bouncing. You let a moan slip, but it’s drowned by Billy’s wails. His eyes are glazed, tears streaming down his face as he digs his fingers into your bedsheets, bucking his hips up to meet your downward strokes.

“Hah, y/n, feels so good, god, please - fuck, uhn! Please please please cum, I’m begging you, need you to cum-”

You squeeze around him hard, slowing down. “You desperate slut. You don’t really want me to - hah - cum, do you? Just want to chase your own release. Admit it. You’re nothing but a whore for me.”

“Jus’ a whore!” he wails, thrusts hard and inconsistent. “Your whore, nothin’ but a whore - ahn, fuck! Shit, jus’ like that darl’ please-”

Your hand finds its way to his throat, pushing down hard on the sides. “Shut up, will you? Didn’t need a monologue to know you’re a slut. Hold on just a little - shit, jesus fuck - a little longer, will you? Mhm, just like that, that’s a good boy sweetheart. Think you can hold on a bit longer?”

His reach to grip at your thighs, the dull throb of his grip sending a shiver of pleasure running up your spine. His teary eyes meet yours and he nods frantically, his bucks feeling near animalistic as he tries to stave off his own orgasm and find your sweet spot all in one go. You take your free hand and push down on his abdomen, halting his sloppy bucking. He groans, opening his mouth to protest, but as he does you spit in it, laughing darkly as he swallows without being asked.

“Good boy,” you coo, condescending. “Swallowed without even having to be asked, huh? Have I finally gotten you trained, lover boy?”

“Ngh, yes, yes, yeah fuck, I’m all yours, jus’ for you-”

You groan, clenching around him as you feel yourself near your release, his words sending trembles of pleasure through your body. “Just a little more, pretty boy, just - shit - just need a little more, that’s it, that’s it!”

With a shudder, you cum, your orgasm washing over you. Billy’s eyes roll back, barely containing himself as you ride him through your orgasm. You slow to a halt, panting as the overstimulation begins to tingle through your veins.

“Can I cum?” Billy says, practically shaking beneath you. “Please, please, I’ve been s’ good, done jus’ what you asked, please, please, jus’ need to cum, wan’ fill you up, wan’ it so bad, please - ahn!”

He trembles below you as you bounce a few times, shaky with overstimulation. It only takes a few bounces for him to cum with a wail, painting your walls white. His eyes roll back and his hands reach to grab your hips, digging in hard enough to leave bruises. You circle your hips, getting him through his orgasm before collapsing on top of him, exhausted.

“Just a second, hun, I’ll get us cleaned up soon,” you murmur. “Just need to wait until I can feel my legs again.”

He snorts, burying his head in your hair. “I feel you, darlin’. Think you ruined me for the day, dunno if I can make it back to my trailer on these legs.”

“Then stay,” you blurt out, before you can think. “I wouldn’t mind the company, anyways.”

You feel him shift beneath you and you freeze up. Fuck, you totally ruined this, didn’t you? Should’ve known better than to let your selfish feelings get in the way. Damn, you thought, just when I thought I actually had a chance.

“Sure,” he says, and your head snaps up, surprise written across your features. “What? Why would I say no to cuddlin’ up to a pretty person like yourself, sweetheart?”

You shake your head, hissing gently as you move to get up, his soft cock sliding out of your sensitive hole. “We’re gonna need a shower first, lover boy. Else this pretty person is going to keep their distance from your sticky ass.”

“Fine, fine,” he says, not-so-gracefully rolling off the bed. “Let’s get going, shall we?”

“No funny business, in the shower, you hear?” you sigh, his arms wrapping around you as you borderline haul him towards the bathroom. “I have a feeling you’re not listening.”

“Hey! I’m listening fine,” he said into your hair, hands getting…well, handsy. “I heard ‘funny business’ plenty well. You down for round 2?”

“You’re unbelievable,” you groan, kicking the bathroom door shut behind you. “Absolutely unbelievable.”

“You love me,” he said, all grins.

And yeah, you think, watching him struggle to turn on your shower, laughing softly to yourself, maybe I do. Word Count: 4603

just a thot that I had today (also an apology spicy thot because this sub!billy fic is taking WAY too long to polish):

(reader is presumably afab in this one, sorry y'all)

so in the 80s there were no in-car instructors: your parents took you to get your temps and, when you turned sixteen, took you to get your test.

but reader is an abysmal driver: failed the test multiple times, temps revoked, yada yada yada. so now they're in senior year and determined to get their license, right? and who better to teach you how to drive than your bestie billy hargrove?

and at first, it's normal. he's teaching you about the amount of pressure you put on the break, how to gently press the gas without sending the car flying, typical driving shit. he's actually a pretty good driver when he wants to be.

but after your first few lessons he decides its time to talk about distracted driving. you should never drive distracted, he told you, but sometimes you have shithead friends in the car, too. so you gotta learn to tune it out. and you're like, yeah, okay, makes sense, until you're pulling out onto the road and his hand finds its way between your legs.

And this mfer just looks dead ahead, saying something about ignoring distractions and paying attention to the road. And it's so hard to pay attention to the road when he's sliding your underwear aside and gently rubbing at your sex. Rubbing harsh circles into your clit, scolding you when your hips buck uncontrollably when he touches you just right, talking to you like he isn't knuckle deep in your pussy.

And imagine he promises a reward if you don't crash or cum on the drive. To "prove" that you're a good driver, that you don't need his lessons anymore. He might even give you his dick if you're good enough. And you'd love that, wouldn't you, darlin'?

And I imagine he's just degrading you the whole time while tears stream down your face from holding back your orgasm (and also trying not to crash the car oops). thought you were finally getting the hang of this, he'd say, but it turns out you'd rather whore yourself out than actually learn. i've seen you starin', darlin', i should've known you were nothing but a slut. just usin' my fingers and you're already falling apart, hm? so condescending in the best possible way.

just driving instructor!billy thots 🤤

Beware - This post has NSFW content!!

For those of you who sent in requests - I am actively working on them!! School work was kicking my ass last week, but I've got time now, so hopefully some requests will be up within the next few days! Thanks for your patience everyone, and here's a sneak peek at the current request I'm working on:

“C’mon, pretty boy, admit it: you missed me,” you said smugly. 

“And what if I did?” he said, eyes half-lidded. “Missed your pretty face, your curves, the feel of you wrapped around me-”

“If you think that you have any power over me you’re wrong,” you say, gaze heavy and smile sharp. “Know your place, baby boy.”

He shivered against you, opting to pull away before it got any more heated between you. “Well darl’, I’ve got a job to do. Stop by sometime, yeah? You know where to find me.”

“Nice try, Hargrove,” you said, eyes feral. “But if you need anything from me you’re going to have to beg for it.”

Hey!! Would you do a sub!billy hargrove/dom!reader smut? Thank u <3

Boy Next Door (NSFW)

S3 spoilers in my author’s note, and vague reference to how S2 ends!! 

Link to Part 2 <3

Summary: You’ve lived in the trailer park nearly your entire life, long enough to know that nothing in Hawkins was ever normal. So when the new king of the school starts dropping by your trailer at ungodly hours, you don’t even blink - why would you? Weirder shit’s happened here, and you’re certainly not complaining either, not when the king decides to get on his knees for you.

Warnings: swearing, smut, dom!reader, reader has an undefined hole, p in said undefined hole, sub!billy, oral (reader receiving), frottage(?), edging, praise, little bits of degradation (reader calls billy “slut” and talks condescendingly at some points), unsafe sex (wrap it before you tap it kids!!), a lil bit of a breeding kink, billy likes when reader pulls on his hair <3

Let me know if you think I missed anything!!

All characters are over 18 :)

Oh my god anon I didn’t know I needed sub!billy until you sent this in and now I’m scouring the website for more… I’m a whore for subby men, what can I say 🤷 He’s a little ooc but I firmly believe that billy is secretly a soft with people he trusts - sure, he’s mean to max, but I think that’s because he doesn’t want her involved in his life of alcohol and flirting - and I’ll die on that hill. This is set between S2 and S3, but in my universe billy doesn’t die during S3 anyways because I’m the author and I said so >:O Anyways, I had so much fun writing this, thank you for the request!! It takes like 1000 words to get to the smut, I’m so sorry ;-; But the smut is like 2000 some words, so hopefully that makes up for it ahaha I went batshit

– – –

You’ve lived in this dinghy trailer park in the middle of nowhere, Indiana, your entire conscious life. When your parents were really drunk (which, in all honesty, was far more often than you were willing to admit) they would talk about their “golden days”: when your parents were something other than full-time alcoholics, living in the suburbs of Cleveland in a nice neighbourhood. You were told you were born there, in that nice suburb house near the coast of one of the great lakes, but you’ve never had the nerve to ask what happened that landed them here, in Hawkins. 

But Ohio was none of your concern now. There were supernatural beings practically on your doorstep and the only people that seemed to care were the children that your friend Steve seemingly adopted, which would make for a good movie. But the fact that a ragtag bunch of kids were the ones saving your very real world left a nauseating pit in your stomach. Sure, the angry buzz cut kid who they called “Eleven” put an end to the last thing that came after Hawkins, but something tells you this was just the beginning. No matter. At the moment, you had bigger things to worry about. Like the fact that there’s a soft knocking on your door, despite the little analog clock reading a blinking “2:34am”.

Peering through the peephole, a clearly drunk Billy Hargrove stood, wobbling slightly. You’d seen him around school - it’s hard not to when he drives a flashy car and insists on poking at Steve - but certainly hadn’t spoken to him before. Opening the door slightly, you make eye contact with the man in question.

“Hi,” you say, tentatively. “Can I help you?”

“l/n!!” he slurs, eyes lighting up. “What’re y’doin in my trailer?”

You frown at him. “This is where I live, dipshit. Your trailer is more than a few down.”

“Mmm, I don’t think so,” he said, nudging at you. “Lemme in, will ya?”

You stood firm, skeptical. “Why should I?”

“Because,” he drawls. “You’re pretty, I’m pretty, we should do pretty people stuff together.”

You snort, but move to the side. You didn’t know what his home life was like, but, nevertheless, sending him away in the middle of the night, piss drunk, was dumb. If he had gotten hurt on the way back to his trailer because you had sent him away you would never forgive yourself. Sure, he seemed like a pretentious douchebag, but even pretentious douchebags deserve a chance. Besides, the ‘rents were out, which meant there wouldn’t be any “did you use protection?” or “you aren’t pregnant, are you?” questions the following morning.

“l/n,” Billy whined out, making you turn in time to see him flop onto your couch. “Why aren’t we doin’ pretty people stuff yet?”

You shut and lock the door, plopping yourself down on the floor in front of the couch in an attempt to set an unspoken boundary. “Because you’re drunk. You’re welcome to come over here sober some time and try this whole song and dance then, but I believe in full consent when doin’ that tango. You’re inebriated, so no ‘pretty people stuff’ for you tonight.”

He whined dramatically. “But that’s half the fun of getting drunk!!”

“God, you’re really drunk,” you say, wrinkling your nose at the smell. “We can talk if you want, but you’re not getting any tonight, lover boy.”

“Ooooh, you wanna hear about the crazy shit that Tina did at the party today??” – – – 

This became a recurring event. Billy would go out and party, then come over, drunk out of his mind and strangely soft. You had learned a lot about him - about Max (who he seemed to truly care about, despite how he acted when sober), about his dickhead father, about his mother, about why he drowned himself in people and alcohol all the time. You weren’t sure why he chose to keep dropping by, but you weren’t too perturbed. In any other situation, you might even consider him your friend. But, you remind yourself, he’s always drunk or high or some combination of the two. You don’t make friends when you’re drunk. And you certainly don’t fall for them, either.

A knock resonated at your door and you froze, staring at the clock. It was 3:24pm on a Saturday afternoon, unless Steve had decided to give you a surprise visit there should be no one at the door.

“l/n! Open the goddamn door,” a voice rang out, one that you recognized immediately. “I don’t have all goddamn day!”

You stumble to the door, opening it embarrassingly quickly. “Hi???”

“Hey,” he said, shoving his way past you.

“Wait wait wait,” you said, spinning around to him. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“What I normally do, dickbag,” Billy said, refusing to make eye contact. “We gonna talk or what?”

You close the door gently, clicking the lock almost tentatively. “You’re sober.”

A flash of hurt crossed his face, but he quickly covered it up. “Am I not allowed to be?”

“That - that’s not what I’m saying!” you exclaimed, exasperated. “I just - I kinda figured you didn’t want to talk to me, normally. I’m not exactly your usual crowd.”

He groaned, running a hand over his face. “Look - how do I say this? I… don’t think you’re that shitty, or whatever. Sure, Tina’s a hot piece of ass, but if I tried to actually, I don’t fucking know, talk to her, she’d just laugh and tell me to ‘shut up’ or somethin’.”

“I don’t think you’re that shitty, either,” you say, slowly. “Is that all you wanted to talk about…? We could’ve done this on the porch.”

“It’s a trailer, there’s no goddamn porch,” he deadpans, rolling his eyes but still not making eye contact with you.

“You’re dodging,” you say, walking over to him and crowding him a bit. “What’s up, buttercup?”

“I don’t want to go back home,” he said bluntly, still dodging your prying eyes. “Deadbeat dad is on a rampage again. Dropped Max off at the arcade and found myself here.”

You blink up at him and back up a bit, feeling awful for prying. “Shit man - sorry I pushed you. You’re welcome here whenever you want to escape your place, sober or not. Or if you just want to come over. You can bring Max, too, she seems nice!! My ‘rents are never around, like ever, and even when they are they’re drunk and hiding in their room, and there’s a key under the doormat in the back if you need an escape and I’m not here - though I’d be careful about my parents, they get pretty drunk sometimes too, it’s not pretty. That’s not the point though! Point is, you’re always welcome, I’m sorry for prying-”

He pushed you to the couch, a small smile on his face, and were his eyes a little teary?? “Shut up, loser. I got it, I’m welcome to be here. Not shocked, though, people love me, of course you’d want me around.”

You roll your eyes at his smirk, trying to tug him down to the couch. However, you hadn’t anticipated him resisting, and your knee jerk reaction was to just yank. He stumbled and landed on top of you, knees straddling your legs. He blinks at you, owlishly, face flushed and pupils beginning to dilate.

You grin up at him, jokingly winking. “Just where I wanted you, baby.”

“Can I- can I take you up on your previous offer?” he said, voice lacking its usual bravado and confidence. 

“Previous offer as in…?”

“Sex,” he said, straightforward. “You said if I was sober we could fuck.”

“What eloquence, Mr. Hargrove,” you said. “And I believe we referred to it as ‘pretty people stuff.’”

“That’s a yes, yeah?” he said, hands resting on the couch on either side of your head.

“Aw, look at you, asking for consent,” you said, grinning up at him deviously. “Mmm…maybe if you beg me.”

He looked at you, incredulous. “If you think I’ll ever beg for something, you’ve got something coming-”

You cut him off, pulling him down into a harsh kiss. He groaned into the kiss, grinding down into your clothed sex. When he pulls away, he smirks down at you, cocky.

“You’re going to be the one begging for me, babe,” he said, head tilting. “So how ‘bout we hear it, hm?”

Well that wouldn’t do. Using all your strength, you flip your positions, grinding down on him once you’ve settled above him.

“If we’re doing this, baby boy,” you said, sultry. “We’re doing this my way, got it?”

You could see the struggle in his eyes, and began to grind down on him lightly. 

“Come on, sweet thing,” you murmured against his lips, rolling your hips in a way that had his eyes rolling back. “You can be good for me, can’t you?”

“Mm- yeah, yes, I can be good for you,” he groaned. “Now get on with it, will you?”

You frown at him, faux pouting. “Thought you were gonna be good. But that’s fine, we can play that game, I don’t mind.”

He opened his mouth to object but was cut off when your grinding turned harsh and fast, his words turning into a breathy moan. He slapped a hand over his mouth but you weren’t having it.

“Listen here, Hargrove,” you growled. “You’re going to let me hear those pretty little sounds or you’re not going to come. Understand?”

“No way in hell-”

You reach a hand down to his straining cock and squeeze, hard, revelling in the way his head rolls back and his hips jerk up into your hand. His mouth opens and closes uselessly, and you lean your weight onto your knees so you can shove your fingers that aren’t cradling his cock right down his throat. He gags, eyes glazed and unfocused.

“God, look at you,” you groan, voice strained. “Made for this, made for me to use, huh?”

He tries to respond but all that comes out are choked moans, drool dribbling down his chin as he gags on your fingers. You other hand kickstarts, rubbing him not-so-nicely through his pants. He looked gorgeous like this: choking on your fingers, eyes unfocused, hips bucking uncontrollably into your harsh touches. God, you just want to drown yourself in the feeling of the power you had over this man, this man who insisted on so much control in his everyday life. But here he was, on your couch, gagging on your fingers like he never wanted anything else. 

His bucking gets more erratic and his breaths get shorter, signalling an incoming orgasm. You paw at his cock a little harder, removing your fingers from down his throat so you could hear him when you tear his orgasm away from him.

“You wanna cum, baby?” you coo, letting your hips take over for your hand and grinding down on his clothed erection. “Wanna cum for me?”

“Yeah - gonna cum, gonna cum, let me cum-”

“No.”

His hips jolt upwards as you lift yourself from his lap, chasing after your heat. You smirk sadistically at him, chuckling at the glare he gives you in exchange for your denial.

“What the fuck?!” he yells, hands clenching at his sides (but not moving to change his predicament, you noted). “I was so fucking close, why would you-”

You put a finger on his lips, shushing him. “You were a brat earlier, so I’m treating you like one. Maybe if you get me off I will consider letting you come.”

“Yeah?” he said, still panting from his lost orgasm. “Yeah, I can fuckin’ do that.”

“Good,” you say, getting up. “Get on your knees in front of the couch.”

He snorted at first, but his face contorted when he realised you were serious. “You’ve got to be kidding me, right? You’re not going to get me on my knees, sweetheart.”

“Then you’re not going to cum,” you said matter-of-factly. “Eat me out on your knees like the little slut you are or you don’t get to cum.”

His nose scrunched up angrily but he moved to get down in front of the couch. “There. That make your sick little heart happy?”

“Maybe if you weren’t such a mouthy brat we wouldn’t be here in the first place,” you said, discarding your pants and undergarments god knows where. “Don’t touch without permission, m’kay?”

He growled but kept his hands obediently at his side. In spite of all his back talk, Billy didn’t ever make a move to take control. He wants this, you realise, but he doesn’t want to admit it.

“How cute,” you coo, pinching his cheek as you settle yourself in front of him. “Now eat me out - no hands though, baby. Just put your pretty little mouth to better use for me, mhm?”

He begrudgingly folds his hands behind his back and buries himself in your hole. Your head rolls back, a low groan escaping your mouth. If he wasn’t drowning himself in you he might see your composure slipping, but he seemed just as out of it as you. Hips jerking up into nothing, hands clasped behind his back, face red and teary, Billy looked like so fucking good that you felt yourself clenching around his tongue, rolling your hips into his lapping. 

“God… so good with that tongue, baby, shit - keep doing that, y-yeah, just like that,” you blabber out, a hand flying to grip at his hair. You give an experimental tug and grin when he moans, breathy and high. 

“Y-yeah? You want me to tug on your - ngh - hair? Shove you deeper into me?” you say, chuckling lowly when he nods into you. “Your wish is my command, sweet thing.”

You could feel your orgasm drawing nearer as Billy’s talented tongue ruined your insides. His movements were precise, even without the use of his hands, and when he nicked your sweet spot you came, clamping your thighs around his head as you tugged harshly on his hair. 

Panting, you try to regain enough composure to address Billy. “God, sweetheart, your so fucking good with your tongue.”

“Yeah?” he said, tone cocky despite the straining bulge in his jeans. “You gonna let me use you now? I know you want it darlin’, you can’t keep pretending to have contr - mph!”

You yanked him up in a kiss, effectively shutting him up. Your legs were a little shaky from your previous orgasm but you were stubborn: there’s no way in hell after all this you would give Billy the satisfaction of fucking into you.

“Get on the goddamn couch,” you said, panting as you pulled away. “I’m going to ride you until all you can think of is me.”

“Fuck, pretty thing,” he groans, dropping onto the couch. “You better hold true to that or I might have to take over.”

“If you think you have a say in how this goes you’re dead wrong,” you said, straddling his hips. “You don’t cum until I say, got it baby?”

“Easy peasy,” he said, ever the fucking brat. “Think you can hold it sweets? Because I can guarantee that you’ll be creaming around my cock in no time.”

“Mhm,” you murmur, unimpressed as you help him wiggle out of his jeans and underwear. “Whatever you need to help you sleep at night.”

“You scared you can’t take it - shit!” he moans, cock twitching as you sink down on him in one slide. “Fuck, you gotta give a man a warning-”

You don’t. Bouncing up and down on his cock at a harsh pace, your trailer is filled with the lewd sound of skin slapping skin. You’re sure the neighbours can tell what you two are doing - hell, the whole trailer park probably knew - but you didn’t have the heart to care. His cock stretched you wide, so goddamn girthy that every bounce had white bouncing at the edge of your vision. 

Billy wasn’t much better. He had a death grip on your hips, finger-shaped bruises already forming. Tongue sticking out, eye half-lidded and staring up at you reverently, Billy was a fucked out mess already and you’d just started.

“Mmngh, feelin’ good, pretty boy? God… just look at you, takin’ - ungh - t-takin’ it so goddamn well, shit,” you said, still slamming yourself down on his cock like your life depended on it. 

“Mmm, fuck, please, please please please-” 

You couldn’t even tell what he was begging for anymore. “What do you - ngh - what do you need, babe - fuck, just like that pretty thing - huh? Got to be specific, darlin’ - god…”

“Cum,” he moans out, eyes shut tightly as he bucks into you. “Need t’ fuckin’ cum!”

You clench around him as he bucks, eyes rolling back a bit. “Ngh, yeah? You wanna cum? Wanna fill my pretty little hole - ahn, do that again, jesus - fill my pretty little hole with your cum?”

“Yeah, shit. Gonna let me?”

“Mhmm, I don’t know…” you said, pretending to ponder like you weren’t desperate to feel him fill you up. “Have you been - jesus fucking christ - have you been good?”

“‘ve been good!!” he wails, eyes teary as he stares up at you. “Been so good, such a good boy, please let me cum, please, jus’ wanna be you good boy, please please please!”

Your eyes roll back. Fuck, you hadn’t expected him to beg in return. Slowing down a bit, your bounces send him slow and deep, causing you to clench. His eyes cross and his grip on the couch turns his knuckles white, trying so goddamn hard to hold himself back.

“You can cum,” you groan, his cock rutting against your sweet spot just right. “You can cum, baby, cum with me, want you to cum with me-”

Your vision goes white and you clench, gripping his cock harshly. He near screams, fucking himself up into you as he came. You both melt into each other, a panting, post-orgasm mess tangled on the couch. When your brain was finally back online, you winch, gently sliding his softened cock out of you.

“Fuck, really did a number on me,” Billy murmured, ragdolled on the couch looking like he never wanted to move. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Fuck off, Hargrove,” you say, trying your best to walk (or waddle, rather) your way to the kitchen to start cleaning off.

“You love me and you know it!”

You roll your eyes, grabbing a washcloth and dampening it. God, he was such a doofus. You couldn’t believe that the rest of the school considered him the king, but maybe your friendship was something special. You sure hoped so - you were certain he wasn’t just submitting himself to anyone, after all. 

“Where the fuck did you go, dickhead? The great Billy Hargrove demands cuddles!”

God, he was such a dork sometimes. You snort, but make your way back to the living room, water bottle and damp washcloth in hand. 

“Have patience, great Billy,” you said, handing him the water bottle before gently cleaning him up. “Great things come for those who wait.”

“Oh shut up,” he said, melting into your touch. “I didn’t come here for you to philosophise.”

“Course, course,” you say, jokingly. “Okay, all done. Let’s pick up all our shit and go to my room, yeah? Really don’t want my parents to come home and find us naked in the living room.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re boring,” he jokes, wobbly as he stands to help you grab your discarded clothes. “Half the fun is getting caught.”

“Perv,” you shot back.

“Says the one who rode me on their parents' couch.”

“Ew!! Don’t fucking say that, I don’t want to think about my parents in the afterglow!”

“You’re the one who brought them up!” “Yeah, because I don’t want them involved in my post-orgasmic haze!!” you say, exasperated. “Cmon, this way.”

Dumping your clothes unceremoniously on the floor, you lock the door and drag Billy towards your bed. Wordlessly, the two of you melt into each other. You’d worry about sneaking him out under your parents’ radar later - right now, you had much more pressing concerns.

Word Count: 3374

Movie Night for Two (Can I Call it a Date?) (SFW)

Summary: Steve can't make movie night - normally you’d be sad but alone time with the girl of your dreams is just what you're looking for.

Warnings: swearing, confessions, vague hints at past homophobia, fem!reader

Let me know if you think I missed anything!!

All characters are over 18 :)

Steve Harrington is a good wingman ;) Considering making a second part where Robin and reader get it on… lmk if that’s an interest :P

– – –

Honestly, you were kind of pissed at Steve. After the embarrassment he was when applying to Family Video alongside you and Robin, you had organized a weekly movie night to “inject some culture into his veins” (Robin’s words, not yours). Now you're here, alone with the girl you've been crushing on for ages, and the only warning you get from Steve is a phone call saying he “can't make it”. No explanation, no reason, no nothing. If this was Steve’s way of telling you to make a move you swear you're going to stab him through the next time you see him.

Despite all the angry feelings you were currently harboring for Steve, a little part of you couldn't help but be grateful. Alone time!! With Robin!!! it was screaming like you weren't already hyper aware of the scenario you've gotten yourself into.

“-lo? Helloooo, y/n, you in there?? Yoo hoo, this is Robin, calling from planet Ear-”

You flail at her, face flushing. 

“Hello, commander Robin,” you say, making a face at her, “How can I help you?”

Trying her best to hold back a smile, she responds, “Well, cadet, I was asking a certain someone if they wanted to watch the movie, but for some reason they seemed to have found their way out of the atmosphere and into lala land.”

You blink back at her, a little shocked you missed it. “Yeah, I'd love to. Sorry I'm space-y, I'm just pissed that Steve ditched last minute.”

An unreadable look crossed her face before she stuck her bottom lip out, faking a pout. “How dare he. Doesn't he want to spend the night with two gorgeous ladies and watch an incredible movie?”

You both snort, and she motions you towards the couch, where a plethora of snacks are already strewn about. You plop on the couch next to her and let out a little sigh, reveling in the way her face scrunched up when she was focused. 

Cheering when the movie finally slid in, Robin sank into the couch next to you. Children of Paradise was one of Robin’s favorite movies (you had watched it with her about a thousand times) but you couldn't bring yourself to stare at anything but her. Even in her dumb pajama set and no makeup, Robin was stunning. You felt a little guilty not watching the screen - Robin loved this movie, and sharing it was clearly important to her, even if she had already made you watch it on repeat - but the light from the TV practically made her glow, and you didn’t realize she had noticed until she started making faces at you.

“I swear if you just missed the best scene in the movie because you’re staring at me-”

“I’m not staring!!” you retort, continuing to stare. “I’m just… admiring, is all.”

She snorted, but the flush that overtook the rise of her cheekbones indicated that she didn’t seem to mind. “Whatever, dorkus. That just means you have to watch it again next week when we tie Steve up so he can’t ditch us again.”

“Of course, of course,” you said, sending her a grin. “As you wish, m’lady.”

She gasped, throwing a hand to her chest. “M’lady? What am I, some sort of dashing young damsel?”

“Uh, duh,” you say like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I wouldn’t fall in love with just anyone, y’know.”

She whipped her head in your direction, blinking rapidly. Shit, that was not supposed to come out of your mouth. “You’re just my best friend and I love you very much- like platonically!! And sometimes words come out wrong, and I can’t control my brain - like right now - and I’ll accidentally say something that offends the other person and I’m so sorry and-”

“Would you say that to Steve, ‘accidentally?’” Robin said, staring you dead in the eyes. “Or would you mean it when you said it to him?”

It was your turn to blink at her. “If you think I have any intention of hitting on Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington I’d like to remind you that our relationship is platonic, like platonic-”

“-with a capital P, I know,” she said, looking away. “‘m sorry, I got carried away, let’s just finish the movie.”

Her eyes flicked back to the screen, but even you could tell she wasn’t paying any attention. You fidget, unsure. Steve had been telling you for weeks to confess to her and get it out.

“If she says no at least you’ll know,” he’d said, like it was the easiest thing to confess to someone of the same sex who could potentially never talk to you ever again. You’d moved cities to escape rumors and hatred, you had reminded him at the time. Asking a lady out also meant coming out, and you were starting to like your Hawkins friend group, thank you very much.

Your eyes flicker back to Robin, who looked just as uncomfortable as you felt. Fuck it, you thought, I came out to Steve motherfucking Harrington, this is nothing.

Except it was something. Because, sure, coming out to the stereotype of ‘straight white boy’ wasn’t a walk in the park, but this was your dream girl for fuck’s sake. 

“Hey, Robin?” you whisper, testing the waters. “Yeah?” she whispered back, uncharacteristically quiet.

“I meant it,” you said, a little more confidently. “I meant what I said earlier.”

She stiffened, and you felt panic bubble in your stomach, but you refused to let that stop you. “I don’t understand-”

“Yes, you do,” you said, staring her right in the eyes. “Robin Buckley, I’m in love with you. And I know it’s not ‘normal,’ or whatever, to like girls, but I can’t help it, and if you never want to talk to me ever again, I understand, and honestly I can’t believe I told Steve before I told you-”

“Steve knows?” she shrieked, like that was the most appalling part of your whole monologue. “Steve knows and he didn’t even try to tell me you liked me back?? That two-timer! That ungrateful sack of shit! I dropped all those Nancy hints for him and he didn’t even give me a hint!!”

Time stopped. She gawked at you, flushing under your gaze. “...back?”

“Uhm, yeah, haha, I super-like girls too, y’know, just a big ol’ lady lover-”

You reach across the couch and pull her closer to you and she stops, staring up at you. You run a thumb over her lips, and she nods like her life depends on it, letting you lead her into a kiss. While it didn’t feel like fireworks like the movies pretend it does, kissing Robin was like coming home after months of being away. It felt safe. Like nothing else mattered. Like there wasn’t a kid with superpowers and giant demon-like creatures out to get her. Like maybe your life might actually be going somewhere.

She pulled back, a cunning grin on her face. “Me thinks Stevie-poo owes Dustin twenty dollars.”

You snort, knowing exactly where this was heading. “They were betting on us and you knew about it??”

“Correction,” she said, booping your nose. “They were betting on you confessing to this ‘mystery person who you totally know Robin but we can’t tell you’- wait, does that mean that Dustin knew before me too??”

“He’s always with Steve!!” you say, face bright red. “And I mean I’ve been part of this psycho babysitter club thing we have going forever, he’s like a little brother to me.”

“Oh my god,” she murmured, giggling. “We’re so stupid.” “The dumbest,” you agreed. “Want to make up for lost time?”

“Are you kidding?” she said, grinning. “Hell yeah I do.”

Word Count: 1289

Stages of grief ft billy Hargrove x reader

You and billy have been on edge for weeks, rumors spread that you slept with Harrington and he’s been fooling around with some girls. Both rumors were false but both of you had a nagging feeling. You both didn’t want to be betrayed or taken advantage of so it ate both you up. The time you both spent together was short do you the pain of either thinking one laid with an enemy, the interaction at school were short. When either didn’t visit in the night you both had thoughts of the other being with that other person. Because of the tension for months both of you snapped at first starting it off as a couple who needed to fix their problems to a full on screaming match and both saying things they didn’t mean and putting either under the bus, you went on the fact he was a player before the dating phase to him saying you slept with Harrington since day one because you both hung out more before the dating. “ ooo so that’s what you think y/n “ you glare back “ it’s what I know billy” he groans/screams “ you really playing this card y/n ever fight, I can’t catch a break” you slam ur hand down “ I can’t catch a break either because you can’t get over your pride about Harrington” the fact you said his name sent billy even further over the edge, he got in your face through his clenched teeth. Nothing but venom dripped from his mouth only for you to poison it more. He called you every name in the book going as far as to comment on your looks only for you to spew back a rush of hateful comments both you brought family even personal secrets into the argument. By the time the last word left your mouth it all was a blur, broken items and car doors slamming, the news of the break up spread like wildfire. You both didn’t even dare look at the other feelings nothing for the first month. You only knew of a new girl on his arm from a class mate and the fact you cut off everyone seeing as they brought the rumors and lies. By the second it didn’t hit either till you looked in the mirror and finally broke, billy didn’t break till he laid next to a girl. He looked over not understanding why he really expected you to be right their. The night you both fought flooded both your minds. The feeling of a void entered both your chests, you broke sliding down your wall as tears fell in floods as your heart started to hurt. You screamed out and held your chest feeling it all hit, the man you wanted to spend your life with had left and laid with another, the thoughts of what he said broke you more, the pain was unbearable. Only miles away billy sat in his car near the lake you both would go, bottle in hand and tears flooding his eyes. He’s head lean on the seat and his fists clenched the bottle, he had been seven drinks in and the more the liquor filled him the more it unlocked the night and his his passenger seat was empty, his back seat had no shoes, his dash didn’t hold the picture of you, the necklace you gifted didn’t dangle from the mirror. The stages of grief set in. Denial was the period of not really believing it till, one entered their room to find the one thing from the other gone or when one wanted to tell the other something only to remember the situation, the empty sheets,the pillow that lost the other scent only for Anger to set in the thought of the others betrayal and lack of trust, the fact you both spent a year together just to not trust the other filled each with rage. Bargaining the guilt for what was said, the shame, the anxiety all set in at once, most nights crying was over what was said both feelings evil and dirty for saying something they didn’t mean only to have depression set in hard both turning to a drink or cigarette to calm the nerves or hide the sadness neither would dare step in each other’s paths, everyone knew because the once bright school was sitting on the edge of their seats. By the fifth month acceptance wasn’t a find yourself or a recreation it was the sadness finally setting in, the acceptance that the other wouldn’t return or dare too because it’s Been half a year. Billy finally broke after seeing you at school,

he never looked at you but when he finally got the courage he stared at you seeing your eyes lifeless, you looked frail and tired, as you sat with friends you looked disconnected. Broken. It made him want to move across the room and hold you and fill you with life again only to see you stand and leave the room. He wanted to chase you. He got up moving to the hall seeing it empty as you walked down it, he moved faster only wrapping his arms around you from behind head on top of yours confused you froze only to sink into him once the familiar smell came to you, you spoke softly as if to speak a little louder would make him disappear “ billy”. He pulled you into a empty/ abandoned classroom. You dropped your bag turning hiding in his chest as his grip tightened, neither spoke knowing each pain, you cried lightly on his chest as he kept you close, only hearing each other’s heart beat rapidly and breathing fill the room. You look up into his eyes find them clear ice blue clear just everything you missed and loved about him on full display, the slight stumbles of hair his freckles in their funny order on his lightly pink cheeks, you didn’t know what came over you but up moved up quickly kissing him deeply, you’ve shared kisses with him but this one was full of the grief, the void, the lost time to lost months. Only to have him lean on a desk with his hand behind your head lips just as connected. It was like you both spilled your broken hearts out onto the floor, the muscles that were tenses now relax the tears that were held in now falling freely. Both pulled away gasping “please “ was all you could muster before both held each other in a hug “ forgive me “ even through it all you both stood speechless. Seeing sides of the other you’ve never seen. You hold his hand as he pulls you closer kissing your nose gently and humming “ why did we do this” you only smile “ young and dumb “ he cups your cheek, you feel his rings on your jaw and smell the cigarette as he kisses you deeply “ young, dumb but never apart” you hum cupping his hand on your face “ till death” he smiles “ do us part”.

“Kiss,kill,marry”

Billy Hargrove x reader

You cry lightly into his shirt and grip his Jean jacket, he rests his chin onto of your head and arms tightly around you, you mumble though sobs “ I hate you” he rubs your back feeling guilt comes over him “ I know….I know” he’s put you through nothing but hell. The Whole relationship was hell, from the start each kiss and touch was purely to not feel alone both didn’t want commitment but both didn’t want the other in someone else’s arms so this whole thing was running off of the fear of being alone. Both you fighting like cats and dogs, so many bruises or cuts from passed fights. You couldn’t count it on your fingers how many times you fought with him, morning till night you both fought only having genuine moments when one was hurt or in pain by an emotional situation. When billy father would rage, you broke down the door next to killing the man for being inches from billy. if billy didn’t grab you, you be in prison rn. Him the same when your mother spoke down on you or got loud. He was right there with open arms, he knew how to soothe you and he had all the right words but when the moment passed and a rumor or comments were made, even the slightest change in a mood and you both saw red. But god forbid a man or woman looked either way. Tonight wasn’t the case, billy finally crossed a line. He went to a party, when you arrived you caught him kissing some blond. When he noticed you. You saw his eyes go almost blank, deer in headlights. You stormed off. He ran after you only to meet you in the front yard, you didn’t know you could get this angry but you turn punching him in the jaw, he fell back shocked holding his soon to be bruised jaw, you yelled and called him every name in the book. Out of it all what broke him was how emotionless your eyes were when you said “ I hate you william Hargrove” you meant it, other arguments you say it but he knew ya didn’t mean it this one hit him hard. When he finally got home, he broke down crying. Max was so scared she came to him, asking if he was dying. She’s seen her brother broken but to cry this hard broke even her. After a month of the argument, billy was not the same, he went quite even snapping at his friends and slowly starting to distance himself from everyone. You noticed and thought that he finally found a girl and was keeping her secret. You being a master over thinker, the thought drove you crazy so much so you went to him in rage. But when he saw you, he never moved so quickly to hold you, as you yelled and beat at his chest. He felt a calm come over him and he held you tighter, you kinda calmed down not expecting this from him. “ billy” the way he looked up broke you. you pushed back, backing away “ no,no” he reached out gently around your face, kissed you deeply, you felt the tension and anger, rage, sadness in this kiss and like every single “break up” you kissed back returning it, you ran your fingers through his hair as he brought you closer. You pulled back as you both breathed heavy. Looking into each other’s eyes. You felt your body just become tired and angry, heavy tears ran down your face. He pulled you closer into his chest. You sobbed “ I hate you” he only held you tighter “ forgive me y/n, forgive me please” you never heard him beg even when he’s father held broke bottles to his throat he didn’t beg but this was a beg to live and not be alone “ y/n please, stay with me” you felt his chest rumble and shoulders shake “ I’ll be better y/n please “ you look up seeing the blue eyes you loved ooo so much pooled with tears and filled pain “ y/n pl-“ you cut his off, being inches from his face cupping his cheeks and crying too.” Ooo shut up” you sighed “ why do we do this “ he felt his chest become tight and his skin go cold, he knew the real reason but never said it out loud. You look at him “ why billy, why” he moves your hands with his having you lean on his chest. “ we fear being alone” you felt you heart ache, he was right. He was always right. You lean ur head kissing his jaw moving your arm over his shoulder. “But do you love me “ without hesitation he spoke

“ yes, I adore you “ you turn looking into his eyes searching for a lie but found nothing. He looks up “ do you love me “ you smile lightly “ yes”. Let’s just say the next morning you woke up in his bed, both naked intertwined with each other and in love.

Hope for the hopeless

Billy Hargrove x reader

“WILLIAM” you growled, you glared at him so hard your upper lip twitched as you came through the door slamming it behind you. He laid his weights down looking over his shoulder putting his cigarette out. Meeting your glare just to return it “ y/n” he turned fully then the fighting ensued. “ you really think I’m that dumb “ you stick ur finger in his face “ whatever she said was a lie, you really have no faith y/n” you didn’t know why but you pushed him back yelling at him. Growled as you both were in each other’s face yelling. “ ya know what billy, ya know what “ in his cocky tone he mocked you “ know what y/n , know what” he had his hand on his hip still fuming. You look him dead in the eye “ we are done, and I mean it. All we do is fight and all I ever hear is how you miss your whores. Thinking your comments are funny. Then on top of it you just let two of the schools biggest idiots run me Into the ground. You know they start all the rumors along with your little whores” you were fuming at this point finger in his face “ then I hear about how your talking to mrs.wheeler, ya think that’s funny. She’s in her thirties” he rolled his eyes, “ it was harmless” he glared, you glared back only seeing red. When you threw the phone book by the door At him, took the brut of it to his arms and you just kinda started to back up and smile in a way to seem annoying. “ ya know what have. A good life” you ripped the necklace off throwing it to his feet, before he could get a word out” you slammed the door. Billy looked towards the door in a frozen state trying to even process what had happened, it all hit him when the necklace laid on the ground, in his heart he felt the realization that it was over, there wasn’t gonna be a next time by the time he reached the door you were already gone. He gripped the necklace “ y/n “. For the next couple days, he held this hope like he always did, knowing you come back and kiss him and hold him. You come to the pool or pop up at his. Window, he would stay up an extra hour at night waiting for your little tap but it never came. He thought he was okay, he thought you just needed space and you be back in no time but no, a week turned into two then two to three. He sat on the post at the pool, a part of him waiting for you to come in but ya never did. He felt his heart start to really sink, he messed up and he needed you. He signed running his fingers through this hair, he sat on his bed staring into space, it all hit him hard. A tear fell down his cheek. After that night he didn’t care what he did or needed to say, he needed you. It was late like midnight when he broke and came to your window he looked in seeing your back to the window, he felt a smile forming on his lips seeing you in his tshirt. He tapped lightly causing you to jump, which honestly happened even when he called you to tell you. Your face shifted through many emotions, you over close opening it “ bill-“ he cut you, placing his hand behind you head and kissed you deeply, you didn’t understand why you always fell again and again but the way he moved his lips made your heart skip a beat, you gripped his shirt pulling him further in lips still connected as he wrapped his arms around your waist, you jumped wrapping your legs around him, you both Fell onto your bed, both desperate and frustrated, angry but ooo so stupid for one another. You pull away feeling tears fall from your face and you finally just let it all out. The pain of the fight and days apart broke you, when you would out of habit reach for the necklace, it broke you to find your neck empty. He rested his forehead on yours wiping your tears away, the shirt you wore slightly up. He kissed you cheek and neck “ I’m sorry billy” he ran his fingers through your hair and hummed “ no y/n” he looked you in the eyes and sighs “ I’m sorry, I’m supposed to be a good boyfriend and I haven’t been, this month has been hell” you hummed “ I forgive you billy, I missed you so much “ you felt the. Tears but he just smiled kissing you more, he removed his jacket and shoes.

He move his right arm to cup your thighs and then to go under your arm, lifting you up towards your pillows, he spooned you kissing the back of your neck holding you tightly. He was so close, he felt himself becoming whole again, the only women to really learn him was back in his arms. He intertwined his fingers with yours, you giggled lightly smelling his strong Cologne and hint of cigarettes, you turn cupping his cheek kissing him deeply closing your eyes, you put all your love into that kiss. As the street lights came on. The whole world continue to spend you slept better that night. “ I love you billy”, “ I love you more y/n”

Billy Hargrove x reader toxic relationship!

To say the relationship was good would be a lie both of you on your own paths even when ur paths crossed it was a inconvenient but it kept happening. He asked ya out. Ya said yes and the rest was history only took a week for both of you to be at each other’s throats. You were possessive and a over thinker, a control freak. He was loud rude, possessive, easily provoked. So the night he said he call, he didn’t which left you to overthink. You got mad and he got frustrated with ur silence and ignoring him. He slammed your locker and the look in your eyes made him feel like his fight or flight kicked in, he returned the glare never to be overpowered or undermined. Through closed teeth you told him to meet you. When you both meet, it was good nobody was around and no real objects were around. You both went at it, you accused him of wanting another girl and he blew up because he hated explaining himself or being questioned. The night ended heated but with one gesture and one glance you both held a bond so tight. It all felt so right but it was so wrong. Both ppl with a mindset of being in control constantly brought things down in fire, you held him when he’s dad went on his rampages and beat billy or took his sons pride and stomped it, you held a part of his heart with that. He held yours by giving you the attention your dad never did, you gave him a stool, a platform, a stage to be viewed as a higher power. You wanted any male affection so the fact the most loved and wanted boy in the school wanted you gave you a sense of power. With that when you both would “break up” you both felt that void, that cold aching void. It would eat billy up when he lay in his bed with your perfume mocking him and your shoes or jacket laid in a part of his room. It all mocked him and showed him how much he missed you. For you it was the habit of looking towards the window or his leather jack draped over the chair in front of your vanity or a lighter on your side table. The make up was always like you both first meet full of genuine love and gently words. Wasn’t like you both didn’t love each other or plan a future together but you both were damaged but your traumas made you both fight. The night after the fight, he called and you went out with him, you leaned on your arm as it hung out the open window, you heard the infamous click and puff. He’s window down too. You both sat in silence, you turn ur head looking at him and he looked at you, he moved his hand around your throat placing butterfly kissed your lip, not long kisses but some that lingered on your lips made ya forget. The taste of the cigarette was on his lips but ya didn’t care. His thumb moved over your lips after the kisses, he hums “why do we do this” you felt how your heart ached, you knew what he meant. Why do we fight and argue but come back to this. “ because we know nobody else wants us like we want each other” you said it so coldly, it was as if billy shiver. He moved his hand behind your head, you felt his fingertips on your scalp, closing your eyes sinking into his touch, you turn your head seeing the baby blue eyes that can turn dark in a minute stare back at you. You wanted to kill for him but kill him at the same time. You look over him seeing his red shirt slightly unbuttoned and his gold locket rest over his collar bone, you move your fingers up holding it in your palm on his chest. You both would just touch to touch not a sexual touch but a touch to make ya imprint on it, a touch that made ya rethink it and giggle and stomach flip. He’s hand moved to your cheek as he leaned closer, you moved your hands to his neck as your lips connect, you lived off his kisses. The way they moved and just fit yours so perfect got you every time, how his hand would wrap around ya and rest on your hips as you both kissed deeply, you wrap your arms around his neck. Between kisses he say I love you pulling you closer, you both wised to breath another way hating to pull apart but both always left breathing heavy and flustered. You would kiss his chin and neck,

he would kiss your forehead and nose. A deep passion full of love and want along with desire a unhealthy desire. Only to have it be covered by the arguments or rumors. You wished for theses moments to be forever but you never held you tongue and he never held his which was the cause of petty arguments and unresolved issue. Why did everything have to end with a finger in the face or a door coming off the hinges. The fire you both held was the same that burned you both. But this moment made you believe in hope for you both, a memory to keep the “break ups” a joke, even ppl at school knew that if someone heard of you both breaking up, they would laugh knowing the case and the process. You laugh lightly still up on him, he raises a brow humming. You smile “ we are terrible” he only hums and kisses you again. “ but we are stuck together” and that’s what you wanted to hear till you die.

All of it was an emotional rollercoaster but I loved every part of it 😭🤞🏻

epilogue

— pairing: billy hargrove x fem!reader

— type: part of a series

— summary: your first meeting

— tags: things coming full circle

— tw: none

— word count: 493

— a/n: writing this has been a journey all in its own. i honestly don't even know where it came from. when i started it, it'd been a minute since i'd even watched stranger things, but it just hit me out of nowhere & once the words started to flow, there was no stopping them. and for the first time ever, i completed a multi-chapter fic. something i have struggled for numerous years to do.

i want to thank everyone who has interacted with this story or me in any way. it has meant more than you can imagine. this one is for all of you.

“Who’s that?” Nancy asks, looking behind you.

You look up, brows furrowing. “Hm?”

She glances to you, then back behind you once more, nodding her head in that same direction.

You turn your head, looking over your shoulder, and catch sight of a blue Chevy Camaro pulling into the school parking lot, and then a tall young man with dirty-blond curls and a mullet, dressed all in jeans, looks at you as he steps out the driver’s side, stopping for a moment, just staring.

You give him a small, welcoming smile, and he smirks then, closing the door to his car, turning away.

You turn back to Nancy, shrugging. “He must be new.”

She continues to study his vehicle. “His plate says California.”

You listen as the bell rings, beckoning you all inside. “Long way from home,” you remark.

When you enter English class, you see that the new guy is now seated directly behind you. You walk over, ready to welcome him to the school—to Hawkins in general—but he speaks before you can bother opening your mouth.

He leans forward, flashing you a brilliant smile, even winking…and you now know he’s the flirtatious type. Great. While all you want is to be left alone.

He extends his hand toward you. “Billy Hargrove.”

You set your things down on your desk, sliding your hand into his, ignoring the way your heart skips a beat when you do so. “Y/N. Nice to meet you. Welcome to Hawkins,” you say with another smile.

He pulls your hand toward him, to his lips, pressing a firm kiss to the back of it, looking up at you from under his lashes. “Pleasure’s all mine, I’m sure.”

You tuck your hand back in your pocket then, to hide it now shaking from nerves.

You go to begin organizing your things for class and he speaks again. “So, doll, you already spoken for?”

You drop your pencil, blinking up at him. “W-what?”

He leans back, folding his hands behind his head. “Are you?”

“You move awful quickly, don’t you?”

He shrugs. “I’m a pretty confident guy. Besides, you know what they say: no time to waste. And I plan on livin’ life to the fullest. So?”

You lean down, picking up your pencil, then standing again. “It…needs sharpened.”

You turn your back to him, heading up front to the pencil sharpener and he smirks. He can already tell that you like him. That’s he’s made you nervous. He likes how you didn’t just give an answer right away. Hard to get. He can work with that—play that game. Even if he knows he’ll inevitably win.

You glance back to him and he blows you a kiss and you frown, looking away again.

He chuckles, looking to the boy seated beside him with perfectly tousled brown hair, who looks back at him with a raised brow of interest.

Billy nods toward you, smiling. “I’m gonna marry that girl one day.”

˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ 𝖜𝖊𝖑𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖇𝖔𝖓𝖊𝖞𝖆𝖗𝖉˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ

korii. 9teen. soulaan. they/them

︵‿︵‿୨♠︎୧‿︵‿︵

𝖜𝖆𝖓𝖓𝖆 𝖉𝖎𝖌 𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖌𝖗𝖆𝖛𝖊𝖘 𝖓𝖊𝖝𝖙 𝖙𝖔 𝖊𝖆𝖈𝖍𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗?

my coffin ☥ cemtetary rules ☥ the graveyard

art account

︵‿︵‿୨♠︎୧‿︵‿︵

Kinktober Masterlist, 2024

︵‿︵‿୨♠︎୧‿︵‿︵

𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘴♠︎

❖ binding shots, yandere! zoro x bartender! reader

❖ too tight, too much, yandere! luffy x gn! reader

❖ old habits die hard, strawhat men x gn! reader

𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

☥ My Art

☥ Demon Slayer

☥ One Piece

☥ One Piece, Live Action

☥ Spiderman: ATSV & ITSV

☥ Stranger Things

☥ The Walking Dead

☥ Miscellaneous 

Rules & Requests

Fandoms

♦︎ One Piece, OPLA

♦︎ Demon Slayer

♦︎ATSV & ITSV

♦︎ Invincible

♦︎ Stranger Things

♦︎ TWD

♦︎ MCU

What I WILL WRITE

♦︎ Smut, Fluff & Angst

♦︎ Dark-Fics & Yandere

♦︎ Female, Male & Gender Neutral! Reader

♦︎ Headcanons

♦︎ Female & Male characters x reader

♦︎ x reader (only)

♦︎ Sub & Switch reader (mainly), Dom reader (somtimes)

What I will NOT Write

♦︎ Smut on underaged characters or in any nsfw way.

♦︎ Non-Con/Dub-con /pedophila/ddlg /mdlb

♦︎ Gross kinks, p!ss, sh!t,

♦︎ Race play, Master/Servant play, big age gaps (Over 5 years unless characters are 25+)

okay but imagine dming a girls-only dnd campaign with Nancy, Robin, El, Max, and Erica

The D&D scene in Hawkins has always been kind of barren. A boys club if you will. Of course there was always the party and the Hellfire Club but you were always looking for a space where you could feel more comfortable playing with other girls. 

When things become more stable in Hawkins you acquired a solid group of female friends. Nancy and Robin are your age, and while you definitely spend time with the boys, you’ve started to hang out just the three of you. 

El and Max are younger than you but you always enjoy their company. You serve as a kind of older sister figure to the party and the two of them kind of look up to you. 

You’ve only recently started hanging around Erica but you like her a lot and once she gets in to D&D you two start to bond. 

It’s actually Erica’s idea to start the campaign in the first place. 

All of the girls are coming in with different levels of experience. 

Nancy has observed D&D through Mike for a good chunk of her life and has occasionally participated so she knows the basic mechanics and other random facts about the game. 

Robin has never touched a 20 sided die in her life. The people that she’s hung out with before the summer of 85 were never the type to play D&D and she barley knew it existed before the whole Satanic Panic thing started to sweep Hawkins. 

Max has always been a bit put off by D&D. At first it was something that was used to exclude her from the group and once she became friends with the party she would be insecure that she wasn’t as good at it as the boys were. Mike, Dustin, Lucas, and Will had been playing forever and she feels like she doesn’t fit in.

When you pitch the idea to her you assure her that the majority of the participants are starting from square one and there's nothing to be worried about. That persuades her to give it a shot. 

El is just happy to be doing something with other girls. Of course she’s friends with Max but she longs for more female company. She also knows a little about D&D due to how much Mike has tried to explain it to her. 

Once Robin is introduced to D&D and learns the rules she’s super psyched about playing and creating her character. She also rolls her dice really weird (big Ally Beardsley ala Fantasy High energy). 

Robin is obsessed with languages so she quickly tries to learn Elvish and uses it during role play. Her experience in drama also leads her to commit especially hard (sometimes too much lol). 

As for classes and races: Robin plays as a teifling bard, Erica as a half-elf rouge, Max as a tabaxi barbarian (my first instinct was also rouge but Lady Applejack is already a rouge so gahhh), El as a half-elf mage, and Nancy as an elven duel class cleric and fighter.

Nancy is the resident note taker and jots down every detail, stat, and piece of inventory. 

She also probably unravels all of your planning with her great detective work. Like you’ll spend ten hours crafting a mystery that's supposed to be revealed in the very last session and she cracks it by the third.

Erica spends hours hand painting minis for each character. The detail is astounding.

"Did you paint a tiny star in her eye?" "I'm thorough."

El is that player who cannot do basic addition for the life of her (aka me). Max always has her back though.

"I rolled an eighteen. Eighteen plus seven is ....." "Twenty five." "Thank you."

El is also proficient in animal handling and constantly adopts wildly dangerous creatures to be her pets.

You might think that Erica is a head-straight-into-battle kind of player due to the absolute powerhouse that is Lady Applejack but she's actually incredibly tactical. Her and Nancy tend to alternate as party leader.

Max and Robin on the other hand are the kind of players who crave chaos.

You: "The villager seems to know something about the creature that lives in the woods. You can see however that he's apprehensive to answer any of your questions."

Max: "This guy is totally shady." Robin: "Yeah you're right ... we should punch him." Max: "Oh my god you're so right. If I roll a nat 20 can a tooth fly out?"

As a DM you are very attentive to your players. You craft scenarios for each girl to shine and show their growth as a player. You also make little dice boxes and customize. You make their favorite treats and have them in the middle of the table every session.

You notice they all seem to be getting closer and more comfortable with the game which warms your heart.

Sessions are hosted on Friday nights and usually conclude with movies, pizza, and sleeping over someone's house based on the availability of their living room.

Each girl also gets to make her own mixtape to play during sessions. The vibes of which are all over the place. Joan Jett, Pat Benatar, Kate Bush, Tiffany, Blondie. The works.

The environment of the campaign is so comfortable. Yes you're putting their characters through horrible danger and mental gymnastics but its out of love <3.

Your players are amazing. You feel so lucky that you're able to share something you love with the girls in your life and make it your own.

By the time you're nearing the end of your campaign Dustin and Lucas are begging to get in on the action for the next one, only to be disappointed when Robin slams the door in their faces clarifying that this party is "Ladies Only!".

Being An Older Sister Figure to the Party

Headcanons for being an older sister to the party from seasons 1 to 3 (for now, I'll probably add more ideas that pop into my head, especially for season 4). I might even do a part two if someone requests it.

You’ve been babysitting Will since he was nine and as a result you’ve become very protective of him and his friends. 

You and Jonathan have always worked as a team to make Will feel accepted. You started coming over every weekend to watch movies or listen to music with the two of them, making sure that it was stuff that he liked. 

You listen carefully when Will tries to explain D&D to and you smile at the way he talks about “Will the Wise” and the adventures he goes on with his friends. Eventually Will’s party gives you a rundown of how to play and you participate sometimes (usually reading lines for an NPC Mike wrote beforehand).

Dustin and Lucas really like having you around. They always try to impress you with random references and facts that are pretty cringe-worthy but you find them charming. 

Even when Joyce couldn’t afford to pay you after Lonnie left you still stick around because you care about Will so much. It kills you to see how he and his friends get bullied and you try to help any way you can but it doesn’t always work. 

You and Joyce have always been really close and she treats you like a daughter. 

After Will came back from the upside down you visited him every day in the hospital and brought him a box full of his favorite things (art supplies, books, his favorite movies). 

You never really recover from what happened but you try to be a pillar of strength for him. 

When Max moves to Hawkins you quickly get wind of her home life. You make it your mission to make sure she has a place where she can feel comfortable, letting her stay over at your house whenever she needs a break from Billy or Niel. 

Max has never been traditionally “girly” but you help her feel comfortable in her femininity. Painting her nails, braiding her hair, taking her shopping for clothes because her mom is too overbearing, etc. 

She’s always struggled with finding positive female role models but you show her the strength in being vulnerable and tell her that she doesn’t have to act tough all the time.

When Steve Harrington enters the picture you’re a little skeptical. He never seemed like the kind of person who would spend his time worrying about anyone but himself and his asshole friends. You’re especially worried about Dustin trying to emulate him but soon enough you come around. He shows you that he cares about the kids just as much as you do even if its in a different way. You start to bond and anytime he worries about people still seeing him as “King Steve”, you assure him that he’s a great guy who’s doing his best. 

Eleven is your baby. After season two you make a point of treating her like a normal preteen girl. When she grows out her hair you buy her clips and look in every magazine to find hairstyles that she can wear. 

When Lucas and Max get together they break up constantly which leads to Lucas crying on your doorstep begging you to help him get her back. Lucas insists that he did it himself because he’s just that smooth (and he’s embarrassed about blubbering in your arms about missing Max). 

When Dustin comes back from camp you’re the only one who believes him about Suzie being his girlfriend. You even talk with her on Cerebro and quickly become pen pals. 

After season 3 you like to keep tabs on Erica. Mostly just to check if she’s having any problems sleeping after what happened on the Fourth of July, or sometimes just to hear her rant about her D&D character. 

You and Mike have an interesting relationship. He’s been Will’s best friend for as long as you remember and has been one of the only people who’s ever made him feel normal but at the same time he’s put that boy through the emotional wringer. 

He annoys you a lot of the time but at the end of the day you know he’s a good kid and who doesn’t have a lot of love in his life. 

Sometimes Mike comes to you about stuff he doesn’t tell anyone else. He sees you as one of the only older people in his life who won’t scold him for his mistakes. You always tease him or set him straight but at the end of the day you let him know you care.

You're the first person Will ever comes out to, and you make sure to guard that secret with your life.

At the end of the day all the kids love you and feel like they can come to you for anything, especially end-of-the-world stuff <3.

# masterlist

stranger things

. . .

wagner moura

capitão nascimento x leitora discutindo | hurt/comfort, one shot – pt-br

pequeno paraíso | capitão nascimento x leitora | fluff, one shot – pt-br

capitão nascimento x leitora advogada | sugestivo, enemies to lovers, one shot – pt-br

jjk

lazy weekend with ryomen sukuna x fem!reader | fluff, blurb – eng

mha

post-final izuku x gn!pro hero reader | fluff – eng

post-final mha! teacher izuku talking about gn!pro hero reader in his class | fluff, blurb – eng

han seojun

. . .

moodboard

real life izuku's moodboard

credits for the divider @kthice

# request's rules !

i don't write incest, nc, cnc, dd/lg, scat, domestic violence, stepcest, pedophilia

i write fluff, smut, blurb, headcannons, one shot, smau and maybe a full fanfic

you can request many times as you please, the only thing that i ask is patience 'cause i'm a college student, but i promise that i'll write your request and post asap!!

# inbox's rules !

i absolutely LOVE yapping so it's very welcome in this blog!!

you can send me inbox, asks and resquests in anon, you don't have to id yourself, anything that's comfortable for you!

if you are passing through something that you want to share or just talk about, you can text me and i will try to help you in the way that i can

# regras de pedidos !

eu não escrevo incesto, pedofilia, nc, cnc, dd/lg, scat, violência doméstica, stepcest

eu escrevo fluff, smut, blurb, headcannons, one shot, smau e talvez uma fanfic inteira

você pode pedir quantas vezes quiser, única coisa que eu peço é que você tenha paciência comigo, porque eu sou universitária, mas eu prometo que escrevo e posto o seu pedido o mais rápido possível!!

# regras de inbox !

eu AMO tagarelar, então pode mandar que é muito que bem-vindo nesse blog!!

você pode me mandar uma inbox, ask e pedidos em anônimo, você não precisa se identificar, faça o que te deixa confortável!!

se você estiver passando por alguma coisa que você queira compartilhar ou falar sobre, pode me mandar e eu vou tentar te ajudar do jeito que eu consigo

credits for the divider @kthice

about me ! | sobre mim !

— hi ! i'm jupiter, i go by she/her, i'm 20 years old so mdi. i speak two languages (portuguese and english – english isn't my first one).

this isn't my first time writing ever, i wrote before, but it's my first time writing on tumblr lol

i write for steve harrington, robin buckley and eddie munson (stranger things), wagner moura (brazilian actor) and some of his characters like captain nascimento (elite squad), joão (from the future man), theo (from the search) and pablo escobar (narcos), i write for wagner moura too, jjk characters (not the minors), mha characters (not the minors again), han seojun (true beauty)

i'm taking requests!!

— oi ! eu sou a jupiter, eu uso ela/dela, tenho 20 anos, então não quero nenhum menor de idade interagindo. eu falo dois idiomas, português e inglês (como eu falei lá encima, inglês não é a minha língua materna). eu já escrevi antes, mas essa é a primeira vez que eu escrevo aqui no tumblr

eu escrevo sobre steve harrington, robin buckley e eddie munson (stranger things), wagner moura (ator brasileiro) e alguns personagens dele, como o capitão nascimento (tropa de elite), joão (o homem do futuro), theo (a busca) e pablo escobar (narcos), personagens de jjk (só os adultos), personagens de mha (só os adultos), han seojun (true beauty/beleza verdadeira)

eu aceito pedidos!!

Sleepy Cuddles

Masterlist

Type: fluff

Requested by: @tripthlightfantastic

Request: i’d die for eddie cuddling reader when they can’t sleep (i have the worst insomnia lol)

A/N: Thank you for requesting! (It takes me ages to fall asleep as well lol so I know the feeling.) I actually really enjoyed writing this, it was really cute. It did end up being shorter than I thought it would be, but I hope you enjoy! If you do, keep in mind that my requests are open!

Warnings: none

Word Count: 436

»»————-　♡　————-««

With a sigh, you turned over for what felt like the hundredth time since you’d laid down a few hours prior. As an insomniac, the experience wasn’t exactly uncommon - just incredibly unwelcome. You turned your head, checking the clock which read 3:26 in big bright red letters. Huffing out another exasperated breath, you turned again, this time facing the other figure in the bed, who, unlike yourself, had fallen asleep hours ago.

For as long as you’d been staying over at his trailer, Eddie had never had any trouble falling asleep quickly. He knew about your sleeping problems, sure, and he always vowed to stay up and try to help you fall asleep to no avail. But sometimes, like tonight, you’d see him stir in his sleep from one too many movements on your behalf. He opened his eyes slowly, blinking a couple times before noticing your soft e/c eyes watching him.

“Can’t sleep?” He murmured softly, sleep still lacing his voice as he tried desperately to wake himself up a bit more for your sake. You nodded, knowing you didn’t have to explain yourself. He just understood. Without a word, he lifted his arm towards you, gesturing for you to come closer. You flipped yourself around and shifted closer, your back pressed against his chest, letting him be the big spoon tonight. He let his arm drop once you were situated, resting it across your waist and letting his other arm snake around your chest, pulling you closely against him. You felt him bury his face in your hair, his light breaths tickling the back of your neck and making you giggle, which in turn, made a lazy smile grace his lips.

You were so grateful for Eddie. You both knew the only way you could get to sleep at this point was if you were in his arms, and him being the fidgety person he was, he never stayed in one position very long whilst sleeping. However, for you, he was willing to lay in the same way for hours just to let you get a little bit of sleep.

You heard him yawn from behind you, and you knew he was barely keeping his eyes open, but he was trying for you. As your eyes finally began to droop, you felt him place a gentle kiss to the back of your neck, followed by a barely audible “I love you.” “Mmm, love you too,” you whispered back, nestling your body back into his and finally allowing yourself to drift off into a peaceful slumber with the love of your life beside you.

Hey so I don’t have a bunch of example writings to show because I’m too self conscious to share them BUT I love writing and I’ll take a crack at any requests (especially Eddie requests rn iykyk) someone wants to send me. I’ve been writing short fics for like 4 years so I promise it won’t be horrible lmao

This this shit right here

This is the characterization of Eddie that I love it’s just so perfect for him it is him are you sure you’re not secretly on the Stranger Things script writing who’s been like banned from writing the romance because it’ll be too good and you will make all of our lovely headcannons cannon and the duffer brothers are like no thank you can’t have that no Homo‘s in our gay show

gold rush

summary: Eddie's known you his whole life. He's your best friend. In truth, he wants to be your boyfriend - he wants to call you his without it being a joke and to kiss you when you're sober. But everyone loves you and wants you: he doesn't like a gold rush.

tags: Eddie x gn!reader (everyone can read!!!), childbood best friends to lovers, slow burn, pining!Eddie, 18+ reader (impli. in twenties), smidge off canon, fluff, minor angst, happy ending, oneshot

☆ word count: 16.3K+ ☆

⚠️ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬, 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬, 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞.⚠️

There's smudges of buttercream frosting by the corners of your lips.

But you're too busy to notice the mess on your face when you're racing Robin to the end of the block, both of you stumbling around like a couple of drunkards, hysterical giggles filling the air after having spun around in circles twenty times. It takes a full thirty seconds before you shove her away and begin to make a run for the end of the block, your sprint only further fuelled by the excited screaming from the kids.

It's your birthday.

You'd insisted - no, pleaded, really - to everyone that there's no need for a celebration. Eddie still remembers the sour expression your face twisted into when Joyce gently suggested throwing you a birthday party to celebrate, and the way you'd then firmly assured her and Hopper that it was enough that they'd even remembered that it was your birthday in a week.

"It's seriously nothing, Joyce." you'd emphasized, setting down your fork with a shy smile. The older woman only huffed at that, wholly unconvinced.

"Your birthday is not nothing, (Y/n), it's a special day that only occurs once a year. We should celebrate! And don't worry, we can organize it all here." Joyce had firmly insisted, casting a sideway glance to Hopper for support. He simply nodded in silence from next to her, right leg idly bouncing up and down as he took another sip of his beer.

Noticing that your hesitant expression wasn't fading, Eddie made it a point to knock his knees with yours to grab your attention, soothing your anxieties by squeezing your hands under the table.

"Come on, sunshine. When's the last time you had a proper birthday in Hawkins since you started university? Besides, we could invite all the kids and our mutual friends... everyone under one roof for the day?"

With all of them gazing at you intently - Hopper raising his eyebrows in a "come on, just say yes" manner, an eager glint in Joyce's warm eyes, and a reassuring grin on Eddie's lips - you had relented, sighing deeply but the shadow of a smile on your face giving your true feelings away.

"Alright. Yeah, Joyce, that'd be great."

In the present, Eddie's quiet thoughts are disrupted by Steve sitting down next to him on the wooden bench, a half empty beer bottle in his hands.

"I've never seen Joyce work so hard on a birthday party before. Not even for Jonathan's - though don't tell him I said that." Steve jokes, chuckling lowly under his breath. Eddie has to agree with his friend that the woman has gone above and beyond.

Hopper and Jonathan are by the barbeque grill, cooking and wiping away sweat away from their foreheads, Nancy and Joyce are sitting by the outdoor swings nursing lemonades in their hands, and the kids (alongside you and Robin) are engaging in silly games by the street - rogue soccer balls, baseball bats and bicycles littered on the lawn.

The backyard of the Wheeler's house is spilling with birthday decorations, from brightly colored balloons wrapped around every piece of furniture to string lights and banners sprawled across the fences, growing from the sides as if they're vines. There are bean bags on the lawn next to picnic tables filled with a wide assortment of food and drinks, a handheld radio the centrepiece blasting a top 40 hit.

Flicking away a stray balloon knocking into his side - of golden color, with the words "happy birthday!" scribbled on it in sharpie - Eddie nods along to Steve's comments absentmindedly.

"Yeah, she really did go all out."

Steve chuckles.

"I even overheard from the conversation happening by the grill that Joyce's even going to bring out an outdoor projector to screen a movie later. I don't even know how she managed to set all that up last minute."

Eddie's trying to be polite and stay tuned into the conversation, but his gaze continues to drift to you, consciously or not. You're standing hunched over, hands on bruised knees with harsh pants coming out of your mouth from the intense sprint you just took off on, as Max and El make fun of how wild your hair looks now. You scowl playfully and threaten to chase them next, to which they say something back that Eddie can't hear (knowing them and based on the look of fake shock on your face, he guesses it's a sassy retort) before you set them off running in full speeds, giggling.

"You could just go over and join them instead of staring." Steve jokes, noticing that the metalhead's attentions are elsewhere. Eddie smiles an embarrassed grin at that, his fingers clenching ever so slightly around the gift and letter sitting on his lap, to which Steve's brown eyes fall onto next. "Oh, the gift pile is over there, here, let me help-"

Steve leans over to take the neatly wrapped box and manila envelope to match from Eddie's grasp, to which the taller boy only flinches and instinctively bring the items closer to his chest.

"No, it's fine! I uh, I want to be holding onto these for the party." he quickly rambles out, ignoring the way Steve's face scrunches up in confusion.

"You sure?"

"Yep! Positive. 100% positive, actually."

Steve narrows his eyes at Eddie, a million questions on the tip of his tongue, but he doesn't get to ask any of them before Hopper is calling him over for help. Eddie lets out a small sigh of relief when he's alone again, incredibly happy to not be subject to interrogation as to why he's so protective of the gift and the letter on his lap.

Truth be told, it's the letter that Eddie's most attached to.

He's spent the entirety of last week perfecting it, writing and rewriting certain paragraphs in odd times through the day whilst mulling over the countless moments encompassing his friendship with you, and it's the piece of paper containing his deepest confession.

He loves you.

More than a best friend should.

Despite being light as a feather, the envelope feels heavy as bricks in his hands in the present moment, the soft papery texture burning his skin as he toys with its flimsy edges, tips of his fingers running up and down the square corners. Though Eddie later (reluctantly) abandons the gift and the letter by the bench to join in on a few games between you and the kids, and to later help Joyce bring out the large birthday cake from the kitchen, his mind remains fixated on that singular piece of paper for the whole party.

Your features aglow with the red and orange embers of the flames from the birthday candles, your lashes flutter shut before your lips puck together to blow, the entire room erupting into applause and appreciative shouts when you finish. You're glowing, Eddie thinks, beaming with happiness and awe as you turn around to give Joyce a fierce embrace and Hopper a cool fist bump.

Eddie makes it a point to carry the gift and the letter with him, hidden out of sight and behind his back, as you tear open each gift during spoonfuls of red velvet cake. Once you've gone down the line opening everyone's gifts, all eyes zero in on Eddie, who sheepishly smiles and lifts up the items in his hands.

"Don't worry, I have your gift and letter here."

"Never doubted you, Eds." you affirm, holding your hands out. Eddie freezes at that, stuttering his response.

"B-but you can't open it here. You have to open it, uh, when you're alone."

The room's split in between confusion (the kids not understanding what Eddie could've possibly gotten you that would require you to have to open it in private) and a collective, amused understanding amongst the adults (smirks on Joyce and Hopper's faces, quiet whispers between Nancy and Jonathan, playful nudges between Robin and Steve).

But you seem none the wiser, a low hum and curious smile quirking up the edges of your lips.

"Ooh, mysterious. Alright then, Eds. I look forward to it."

Eddie's so damn tense on the drive back to your apartment that he's afraid he's going to go into cardiac arrest at any moment. Heart beating a million miles per minute, he can hear his blood pumping right by his ears as he rounds the corner to your house, throat running dry at the realization that you're holding his letter in your lap.

"C-can I come in?" he asks, breathlessly, slapping on a quick grin to mask his mix of fear and worry. "To see your reaction to my gift and stuff."

You roll your eyes playfully at that, unstrapping the seat belt from your shoulder.

"Duh. We've been friends since we were 7 years old."

He's been over to your apartment a million times before, but suddenly the dark hallways and oak stairs seem daunting. Each footstep echoes through the silence ominously, a mocking voice reminding him with each step up the stairs that you're one step closer to opening that damn letter.

Unaware of Eddie's anxieties, you're humming a light pop song when you usher him into the bedroom, closing the door half-hazardously behind you by kicking it shut with one leg before dramatically flailing onto your bed.

"Ah, home. Just me and my bed." you groan into the sheets, stretching your tired limbs out.

"And me." your best friend adds, pretending to be offended. Your face lifts up from the comforter in response, dopey grin on your cake and champagne filled-face.

"And you. Always you, Eddie."

You sit with your legs crossed across from him, Eddie's legs dangling off the mattress as you carefully inspect the letter in the light. Your fingers move to tear it open when he stops you quickly, placing a gentle hand on your wrist to stop you mid-movement.

"W-wait. Open the gift first."

You pause, amused, raising your eyebrows.

"Isn't it usual to open the letter first before the gift?"

"Well, yeah, maybe, but... trust me, it'll make more sense later."

You click your tongue against the roof of your mouth before letting the letter fall back down onto your lap.

"Alright... But seriously, this is only getting more and more mysterious."

You inspect the neatly wrapped box in your lap: the wrapping is rather imperfect, with odd scrunches at the sides and messy taping holding the wrapping together around the shape of the box. But the wrapping paper's pattern is too endearing (a cartoon shark holding an umbrella over its head) and so is the gold bow he's put on top, so you suppose it makes up for the slightly messy presentation.

"Sorry about the lame wrapping paper, it was like the only one left at the store." Eddie comments quietly, sheepish.

"Trust me, it's perfect." you assure him, winking.

Your fingers tear open the paper to see that inside is a beautiful, sleek, black polaroid camera. Taking the polaroid gently out of the box, you stare at it in shock, its weight pleasant on your hands as you twist it around to examine every feature. Underneath the box holding the polaroid, Eddie has even thrown in several pieces of film, tied together hastily with decorative string.

"Oh my god Eddie... this... this must've cost a fortune!" you ramble, looking up at him with awe. He shakes it off though, head twisting side to side in denial, signature smirk gracing his face.

"Nah. I had some money saved up from a few Corroded Coffin gigs and the internship I did a few months ago up in Idaho paid off. Besides..." he takes in a deep breath before smiling with a short exhale. "It's my best friend's birthday - I couldn't give you something small and lame."

You laugh at that, dropping the camera carefully onto your lap.

"Well, you could've gotten me a rock off the side of the street and I still would've loved it. I mean, this- this is too much." you fuss, not meeting his gaze.

"Hey. You deserve it. It's your birthday. And again, you're my best friend. Stop acting like I went into debt buying something nice for you." he jokes, poking you on the side right where you're ticklish. You squirm away from him, curses on the tip of your tongue, but you're not really mad at him.

You don't think you could ever really be mad at Eddie.

"Alright, fine. Thank you so, so, so much, Eds. You're the bestest friend ever." you mumble into his shoulder, arms wrapping around his neck.

He can feel your heartbeat reverberating through your top, your signature perfume wafting over him at this proximity, a comforting smell that he inhales slowly as he returns your embrace. It doesn't last long enough for Eddie before you pull away and set the camera to the side, hands now reaching out for the letter.

"Wait." he blurts out again, and this time, you playfully roll your eyes.

"Again, Eddie? I feel like you really don't want me to read this letter for some reason."

Your voice is playful, your expression clearly being one of fond amusement, but Eddie feels as if his chest is being squeezed by invisible ropes. God, if only you had any idea as that what you were about to read, he thinks.

"Just to give you background on the letter, that's all." Eddie assures you, shuffling closer. "So, remember how on your first day back from Boston we had that conversation in the cinema? About how you thought the plot of that romantic movie we ended up watching was super unrealistic?"

You two had meant to see the newest horror movie, but ended up running late to the cinema and the ticketmaster (a bored looking teenager with wild red hair and blue eyes) droned from behind the glass that all tickets for that film were sold for the day. You glanced over at Eddie, silently asking him what to do next, and Eddie had shrugged his shoulders and suggested just seeing another film.

The only film that had any available tickets - considering that it was past 9pm on a Friday night - was a romantic comedy starring two famous actors neither of you cared much about. But eager to catch up on all the time you two missed whilst you were studying in Boston and Eddie was attending community college in Hawkins, neither of you minded.

The screening room was nearly empty, allowing you and Eddie to sit by the front (far away from the few other people in attendance) and whisper throughout the duration of the whole film. Towards the end of the film, the female protagonist began to cry as her love interest stared to declare 100 things he loved about her, and you groaned audibly and rolled your eyes.

"God, I fucking hate how unrealistic these films are." you'd complained, sinking against your cinema seat. Eddie shot you an amused glance at that, popping a popcorn kernel into his mouth.

"Really, this is unrealistic for you? Not the non-existent sex scenes? Not the female characters always waking up with perfect hair and makeup? Not the protagonists always living in penthouses in New York on a barista's budget?" he'd teased, knocking shoulders with yours. You grunted, rolling your eyes.

"Well, all that's super unrealistic too, don't get me wrong. But come on, who the hell can name 100 things they love about someone?"

"What, you couldn't name 100 things you love about someone?" he had challenged, raising his eyebrows.

"Definitely not! Not even to like, my parents or best friends. Why, are you saying you can, Munson?" you retorted, crossing your arms. Eddie just leaned back and smirked.

"Oh, you have no idea. I definitely could. Like I could list 100 things I love about you right now."

He meant it sincerely, but you didn't seem to pick up on it - either because it was too dark in the cinema room to see how his eyes softened at the confession or because you'd become so desensitized to his honesty after a lifelong platonic friendship.

So you just snorted and raised your hands in mock defeat.

"Geez, alright then."

"I'm serious, I could!" he argued, poking you on the side to redirect your gaze towards him. You chuckled, shaking your head sideways at your best friend's antics.

"Yeah, okay. Save it for another day, okay? The old lady behind us keeps on glaring and I'm afraid she's gonna stab us if we keep on talking."

"The shitty rom com day? Yeah, of course I remember. Why?"

Eddie swallows nervously, tongue poking out to trace his bottom lip.

"I did it. I wrote down the 100 things I love about you onto that letter."

Your eyebrows raise and an impressed grin spreads on your lips.

"You actually did? Damn, I'm impressed, Munson."

"Yeah, well, considering I had basically our entire lives to draw upon, it wasn't that hard. One thing though: it's super, duper important that you read to the very end. Like, from number one to one hundred without stopping. No skipping ahead." Eddie hastily adds, fingers itching by his sides with anxiety.

You nod slowly, finally unclasping the front of the envelope as you begin to read.

-------------------------------------------

01. your eyes - they were the first thing I noticed about you when you first spoke to me.

Eddie was seven when he first met you.

He was sulking in the playground, a couple hundred feet away from all the other kids, busy kicking a small pebble back and forth with the cement wall in boredom. He desperately wanted the school day to be over. He wasn't as tall as the other kids yet, and all the boys his age already thought that he was too weird: obsessed with music and bugs instead of cars and girls.

Lunch periods sucked the most for Eddie - at the very least, during class, he could distract himself by nodding along to the teachers and burying his mind in whatever activity he had to finish. But when released from the confines of the classroom and people naturally split off into their groups, Eddie was almost always alone.

He didn't mind too much, he supposed. It was no different from at home, where his parents and him barely spoke - him in his room unless it was time to eat, silent dinners at night with his father's head in a newspaper and his mother nursing a cigarette.

Eddie was getting ready to kick the small pebble back to the wall, right leg bracing backwards, when he suddenly felt someone's warm hand on his shoulder.

"It's a lot more fun when you kick a ball back and forth, you know. And when you do it with someone, not a wall."

He recognized that voice.

Despite having moved into Hawkins less than two weeks ago, you already had a large circle of friends and several teachers wrapped around your fingers. Star student, extrovert, popular kid.

All things Eddie certainly were not, so as to render him starstruck that THE (Y/n) (L/n) would want to speak to him.

So his first reaction was to look around the playground, expecting to see another kid kicking a pebble back and forth and to whom your comment was actually directed to, but the courtyard was practically empty. You seemingly caught on to his confusion and giggled, stepping closer to him so as to shadow the sun behind your figure.

"Yes, I'm talking to you. My name is (Y/n), by the way."

The young boy was sure there wasn't a single person in his grade who didn't know who you were. And yet here you were, having separated from the larger group of kids to specifically seek Eddie out, introducing yourself with bruised knees and a wide smile. His eyes hesitantly lifted from the floor to meet your eyes - dancing with joy, irises twinkling with a glow akin to jewels, an alluring sense of warmth exuding from your simple gaze.

He was transfixed. His left hand was slow to rise but he eventually shook your hand, gripping your fingers tightly.

"Nice to meet you, (Y/n). I'm Eddie."

"Eddie." you strung his name out, as if testing how it sounded from your lips. "That's a cool name. Wanna play ball?"

You spun the soccer ball in your hands back and forth, wiggling your eyebrows.

"Sure."

And that was the start of his lifelong friendship with you.

-----------------------------------------

13: your sense of adventure - I'll never forget how the first time I got grounded by Wayne was because you wanted to sneak out to see the meteor showers.

"Did you hear that there's going to be a meteor shower tonight?"

You'd come barreling into his trailer, not even bothering to properly knock (and only sending a polite "hello" to Wayne who was sat on the couch watching TV), startling Eddie who was devouring one science fiction comic after another.

"A hello is usually how people start conversations." Eddie had grumbled back, folding the paper comic away, though his slight annoyance melted away quickly at your obvious excitement. It was spring break and you were two bored ten year old kids constrained to the mundane life in Hawkins.

"Hello, Eddie, you look great, hope you're well, blah blah blah." you mocked, putting on an overly formal accent as you eventually walked over to his bed and shooed for him to make space for you on the mattress. Scowling (though it wasn't genuine), he obliged, allowing you to sit next to him with your legs criss crossed. "But seriously. I read in the newspaper this morning that a once in a decade meteor shower is going to happen at 11pm tomorrow."

"And?" the boy questioned, flipping his head over to the side, staring at you with mild confusion. You looked positively offended at that, folding one of his spare sci fi comics in half to hit him across the shoulder.

"AND? And we gotta sneak out to see it for ourselves, Eddie!"

Eddie sighed, lips drawn tight as he shrugged his shoulders.

"I don't know, sounds kind of boring. Also, we technically have school tomorrow."

You pouted at that, crossing your arms in indignant disagreement.

"Aw, come on, Eds, PLEASE?"

"Why don't you go alone?"

You spluttered at his suggestion.

"ALONE? Eddie, this is a ONCE IN A DECADE occurence! Come on, as my best friend, please? I promise it'll be fun!"

Eddie suppressed another deep sigh - this was the paradox of his friendship with you.

You were this ball of energy, bright sunshine on a summery day, an extrovert who enjoyed parties, biking and spontaneous plans on a late Wednesday night. Eddie was more withdrawn, a sunflower blooming in the dark, someone who preferred to spend his free days reading comics or studying the genius of his favorite rock musicians with an open notebook and pen in hand.

Perhaps that was why you two worked together so well though. At least, that was Wayne's working theory, considering you two had been inseparable for three years at this point.

"Fine." he had grumbled and you leaped forward to hug him, crushing Eddie between your arms, making him wince.

"Sorry, sorry, I just got excited! Oh, we'll have to be super careful when sneaking out. You can bike alongside me whilst I skateboard, I know the perfect place to view the meteor shower: it's this little hill by Cornelia Park." you hurried out, swinging your backpack over your shoulder, your fingers thrumming alongside your skateboard.

"You're not sticking around?"

Eddie tried to hide the disappointment in his voice but it still laced his tone, eyebrows furrowing as he was expecting you to stick around for dinner at the least (which was routine whenever you came over).

"Can't, my cousins are visiting from out of state and my mom will kill me if I miss the family dinner. But tomorrow, I'll sneak out and be waiting for you outside your trailer at like 10:30, okay?" you said, sticking one of your pinkie fingers out at him. "Remember, Eds, you can never break a pinkie promise with me."

You warned with a serious voice, a joke that you'd been employing since last year when you'd used it to ensure Eddie would pay you back for ice cream. He rolled his eyes then and he was rolling his eyes now too, but he nonetheless wrapped his own finger around yours, sealing the deal.

"10:30 tomorrow, got you."

Eddie feigned going to bed awfully early the next day, telling a small white lie that he wasn't feeling well, and he waited dutifully until he heard the television flicker off and Wayne's breaths to even out from the other bedroom. Slowly creaking open his door, Eddie pocketed the keys sitting by the kitchen table after having quickly changed into a pair of jeans and a black jacket to fight off the autumn cold.

As you'd promised, you were waiting for him outside, skateboard tucked securely under your left arm, wide awake smile on your face as you excitedly waved him over.

"Alright, let me get my bike first, relax." he'd teased, unchaining his bicycle from a nearby tree as you excitedly jumped up and down on the balls of your feet.

"Come onnnnn, Eds! I don't want to miss the beginning."

"I don't think it's even possible to miss out the beginning of a natural occurrence." he'd countered, but your cheery disposition wasn't affected.

"Alright grumpy pants, let's get going."

He followed behind you carefully - night wind whipping through his hair, pale moonlight illuminating the cracks between oak trees and ink black roads - before you slowed down by the entrance to the park. You hopped off your skateboard and Eddie chose to walk alongside his bike whilst making small talk, with you insisting that the perfect spot to view the meteor shower was a large hill at the back of a private garden.

"Damn it, it's locked." you swore, placing one hand on the green metal gate before pulling it fiercely back and forth. A slow smirk arose on your face as you turned back at Eddie, a treacherous, mischievous glint in your eyes. "You know what this means."

"(Y/n), no."

"(Y/n), yes. We're climbing over the gate."

Before he could even stop you, you had thrown your skateboard overboard and started climbing the metal fence. To your credit, it wasn't a particularly difficult task - your left foot being dug between the gaps before you hoisted the rest of your body up and swung your legs over the top with ease.

"Just lock your bicycle to the side and we'll come back for it, promise." you promised from the other side, smiling at him through the gaps of the fence. Eddie ran a hand down his face, semi-regretting agreeing with you, before he relented and pointed an accusatory finger at you.

"Fine. But if we get arrested and go to jail, I'm totally blaming this on you."

"Guilty as charged, Munson."

He climbed over the fence after locking his bicycle by the side fence, though he had a bit more of a difficulty climbing it than you (with the fact that he was already taller than you by a few inches making it all the more embarrassing.) But he didn't have time to dwell on that, when the moment his shaky feet met the dirt floor, your left hand was gripping his wrist tightly and leading him further into the night.

"Come on, it's nearly 11." you cautioned, motioning to the fancy wristwatch your parents had gifted you for your tenth birthday.

The clearing you led Eddie to was beautiful - a small stream flowing underneath flower beds blooming with orange bellflowers, pink roses and white lilies, a cobblestone pathway leading up to a large hill separated by neatly trimmed hedges and plastic garden gnomes. He barely had a chance to appreciate every aspect of the small oasis before you were pushing him up the hill, flashing him a proud smile when you collapsed on top of the mound after a few minutes of climbing.

"Here we are!" you announced. "Perfect view of the night sky."

Eddie wordlessly sat next to you, knees closed together and drawn to his chest, catching his breath whilst staring up at the the empty night sky. After a few moments of silence, he frowned, and he was getting ready to ask you if you were sure that you'd read the paper correctly.

And that was when the first shooting star crossed the sky. A bright, brilliant flash of light which soared from one edge of the sky to another, it elicited a shocked gasp from you, your fingers curling around his upper arm excitedly.

"It's starting!"

After the first star, all the others followed in quick succession, decorating the inky black landscape with stunning bursts of white light. Eddie had to admit, it was an incredible sight to see, and at some point you'd snuck closer towards him and Eddie quickly looked down to shoot you a worried glance.

"You alright?" he questioned, noticing that you were shivering next to him.

"Just peachy! A bit cold, though, didn't have the time to grab my cardigan cause I had to climb out the window." you chuckled, rubbing your upper forearms with your hands. He was quick to discard his jacket at that, wrapping the fabric around your shoulders without a second thought.

"Are you sure, Eds?" you asked, frowning, though you were grateful for the rush of warmth. He nodded, disregarding the small chill running down his back at the sudden exposure to the cold.

"Positive. I rather I be cold than you."

"Thanks, Eds. You're the best."

"That's why I'm your best friend." he teased. You chuckled, shaking your head in agreement.

"I guess so."

And then when you'd grown weary and tired, resting your head on his shoulder as he instinctively wrapped an arm around your shoulder to make sure your head wouldn't slip off, Eddie felt a foreign sensation.

His vision was slightly hazy, rose hues glazing his irises, pleasant warmth filling his stomach as if he'd just eaten a delicious warm meal. It was a completely new feeling, your presence both simultaneously feeling like too much yet not enough, his breaths coming out at a slightly faster pace as he stared down at you.

Eddie didn't know what he was feeling, but somehow, having you rest your head against his shoulder in the dead of night... After having snuck out to climb over a fence into a private garden to watch a meteor shower with you, awoke something in him.

He didn't know what to call the feeling.

All he knew was that he liked it, and he liked being around you.

And that was enough of an answer for ten year old Eddie.

-------------------------------------

21: your laughter - I always like hearing you laugh. Some days, I even think it's better than Black Sabbath and Metallica.

A crush.

That was what it was, Eddie now realized, his teenage years finally giving him the language to explain what he was feeling for his best friend.

You were sitting with your legs swinging back and forth on the park bench, tongue lazily swirling around your ice cream, a celebratory treat for having gotten through - alongside Eddie - the dreadful three years of middle school.

Well, more dreadful for him than you, he supposed.

Even though in middle school Eddie had broken out of his shell much more (having discovered a love for fantasy novels, metal music and befriending a small group of boys who were also branded "nerds"), you and him were still separated by several stratospheres in the social pyramid.

You still shared a few classes with him, during which you always sat in front or behind him, for which he was always grateful. It was one of Eddie's greatest insecurities that sooner or later, you'd realize that you were too good to be with him and ditch for someone better. But you never did, even going so far as to defend him from snide comments from the other popular kids that you were "too good" to be hanging around someone like him.

Eddie often wondered if he was a burden to you: dragging you down as you swam, weighing you down as you soared higher and higher to the sun. You always laughed off such accusations, paired with a stern talking - akin to that of a disappointed parent - which emphasized how much you valued him.

Eddie still didn't really know why.

It was the summer before the start of high school, the realization which was sitting heavy in his lower stomach, mind swirling with a cacophony of anxious thoughts.

See, Eddie had spent the three years of middle school learning guitar, reading every fantasy novel he could get his hands on, and sticking by the same group of boys who had been branded as nerds from the beginning of sixth grade.

You'd spent those years becoming the captain of the swimming club, getting invited to countless parties and sleep overs, and growing up into your features.

Eddie always thought you were a nice looking person, sure. But as soon as puberty hit and his hormones began to kick in, he realized that you were growing up right in front of his eyes. Your shoulders became more defined, thighs more toned, you'd certainly grown several inches in height from that excited seven year old who'd first offered to play ball with him. Your facial features were balancing out, eyes slightly shifting in hue, lips more plump.

And fuck, you were gorgeous.

And Eddie hadn't been the only one to notice, considering how everyone either envied you or wanted to date you.

Eddie was wondering now what it must be like to grow up that beautiful as droplets of strawberry ice cream hung from the edges of your bottom lip, hair kissed with glittering sunlight streaming through the gaps of the willow tree you were sat under.

"You excited to start high school?" you'd asked him whilst wiggling your eyebrows, as if you were passing off a dirty joke that neither of you should be engaging in. Eddie blew through his lips, quickly taking a bite off of his own ice cream cone, throwing you a nonchalant shrug.

"Meh. Probably gonna be like middle school, but shittier and with more hormones."

You laughed at that, a carefree melody flowing from your throat as you threw your head back, yellow sunlight illuminating your features at the action. It was a proper laugh, a loud sound followed by echoes of giggles, eyes turning teary and stomach aching from the lack of oxygen.

It made butterflies flutter in Eddie's stomach, fingers itching to tap your nose and lips aching to kiss your cheeks, but he remained still, content to just sit back and watch you laugh at his dumb jokes.

"You're probably right. But god, it's such a big change, it's kind of scary." you had said, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your eyes. "I mean, high school! Four years in a completely new place! Then we'll be off to university, then we'll have jobs, then we'll probably have families-"

"Hey, hey, relax." Eddie had to calm you down as you were speaking so fast that you forgot to breathe in between each sentence, his left hand springing up to comfortingly pat against your clothed back. "You're overthinking it."

"Very me, isn't it?" you gave him a sheepish smile, kicking up your legs to cross them underneath your arms. Eddie just smiled in acknowledgement.

"Sure is, sunshine."

You stuck your tongue out at that, face scrunching up as if you'd tasted something bitter.

"When will you stop calling me that? We're not ten anymore, Eds." you commented, referring to the fact that Eddie had been calling you by the nickname 'sunshine' since both of you were ten. His justification? You were sunny, fun, and you always 'brightened his days' - "you're basically my sunshine" he'd confessed, hands wringed together, shy grin on his lips.

"Never, sorry not sorry."

"Well then what am I supposed to call you? Seems hardly fair that I get a nickname and you don't." you paused, humming as you began to seemingly brainstorm an appropriate name in your head. "Moonshine."

"Moonshine?" he mocked, giving you an incredulous look, to which you threw your hands up dramatically.

"I-I don't know! I was just thinking like, if I was going to be called sunshine and we're such opposites, you'd be called moonshine."

"I'm pretty sure that's the name of that illegal alcohol too. You know, the spirit that's banned in the US for having an insanely high alcohol concentration?" he teased, before he nodding affirmatively. "You know what, now that I think about it, I kind of like it."

"Really?"

"Yeah. We're opposites - sun and moon - and I sort of dig the thought of being named after a deadly alcohol brand."

"You're hardly fatal, Munson." you'd hit back, knocking your shoulders with his.

"Eh, Wayne seems to think I am whenever I cook."

You laughed again at that, and though this time it was shorter and lighter, it still did the job of lighting his veins on fire and causing a slight blush to paint over his cheeks.

Eddie was certain that he'd say and do anything - absolutely anything - to hear you laugh at his jokes.

------------------------------------------

36: your honesty - it might break a lot of hearts, but it's so refreshing.

"Everything alright?" you questioned Eddie from behind, frown on your wet lips as you peeked over his shoulder to stare at the retreating jocks.

You were both sophomores now, a full two years into high school, and Eddie had been proven correct in his prediction that he'd continue to be an outcast and a weirdo whilst you dominated the popularity pyramid.

The basketball team had taken particular glee at bugging Eddie at school - knocking into him in the hallways, purposefully ignoring him during group discussions, whispering words like "freak" and "loser" whenever they passed by him. That was, of course, so long as you weren't near him. They were on their best behavior around you: student body president, head of student volunteering, varsity swim captain.

After all, you were kind of one of them - you sat with the popular kids: the varsity athletes and cheerleaders and student government members. Eddie, on the other hand, sat in the back of the lunch room with the science club nerds, with whom they discovered a mutual love for D&D after being grouped together for a Chemistry project.

"Everything's fine, don't worry your pretty little head about it, okay?" Eddie had joked at you, winking. "We still on for Friday movie night?" he added, hopefully, slamming his locker door shut. His smile fell in the fraction of a second at the unexpected sight of your sorry expression.

"Yeah, about that... I can't tonight." you'd said awkardly, scratching your neck.

"What? Your parents got you doing household chores again?"

"Oh, no, no. My parents are out of town this week. It's... something else."

You were clearly hiding something: avoiding his gaze and dragging the soles of your shoes on the floor as you wordlessly trailed behind him in the hallways, making Eddie's curiosity worsen. After all, you two were best friends, you never hid anything from each other.

"What is it? Come on, don't leave me hanging, sunshine."

You were chewing on your bottom lip, hesitant smile sparking on your face when you looked up to finally meet his worried gaze.

"I have a date tonight."

Shit.

Eddie halted his footsteps in the hallway, eyes wide and unblinking as the words soaked in, heart beginning to crack and fill with dread at the announcement. He wasn't an idiot. He knew that you were well desired, he knew that you were gorgeous, he knew that it was only a matter of time before you'd had a proper date and a first kiss.

But he didn't think that day was going to be today.

And to add salt to injury, it had to be on a day where it was routine for you to come over to his place to watch a shitty VHS tape over popcorn and pizza. He loved Friday movie nights. It got him through late nights studying subjects he couldn't care less about, a distraction to hold on to as a cheerleader jeered at him or a jock roughly rustled into him by the parking lot.

"Oh. Uh, nice! Who asked you out?" Eddie had tried to come off as if he'd been unaffected, as if there wasn't now a sinking, clawing sensation in his stomach and his heart wasn't filling with black tar. His efforts to keep his face neutral and voice light paid off, as you visibly relaxed, slow grin quirking up the edges of your lips.

"Tyler."

"Tyler? As in, Tyler Peterson?" he'd spluttered in disbelief: Tyler was the complete opposite of Eddie. A muscular blonde and head of the basketball team, he was a senior with a large group of friends and a penthouse in the upper side of Hawkins. Rich, undeniably attractive and popular, the stinging pain of insecurity was beginning to prick at Eddie's skin as your grin only widened.

"Yeah, that's him. Not gonna lie, I'm surprised that he'd ask me out-"

"You can't go out on a date with him." the metalhead had quickly cut in, making you cock your head in confusion.

"Why... not?"

"Because!" Eddie shouted, his mind scrambling to find an excuse. Because in reality, it made sense that two of the most popular and attractive people in Hawkins High would go on a date. "He's a senior and you're a sophomore, yeah. It's creepy."

You stuck your tongue out at him.

"Ugh, moonshine, grow up. He's still 17 and I'm about to turn 16 in two weeks. It's not like we're breaking the law." you flicked him in the forehead, playful smirk on your lips before you continued to walk down the hallway, Eddie's footsteps quickly following behind you.

"Still! That's like, gross."

"Listen, I'm really sorry about cancelling our Friday movie night, I know you look forward to them as much as I do." you sighed, turning on your heel to stare up at him. "I'll make it up to you, okay? But I really like Tyler and I wanna give this a shot, Eddie. I mean, for fucks sake-"

You quickly looked around the vacant hallways before leaning over to whisper.

"I haven't even had a proper first kiss yet."

Eddie chose to ignore how the first thought in his mind was a sly comment - "we could kiss right now and get it out the way" - and he consciously chose instead to lower his defences, shoulders shrugging downwards at your strict tone and persistent gaze.After all, if Eddie knew anything about you, it was that you were stubborn and once you set your mind to something, he couldn't talk you out of it.

Besides, the logical voice in his mind now reprimanded him, he didn't own you. You weren't his. He'd had plenty of chances to make a move on you, to push you two over the line of friendship into love, a whole nine years in fact. And he'd never done anything. And it was selfish and unreasonable for him to want to keep you all to himself, away from other boys who also noticed your attractiveness.

You were akin to a siren, Eddie thought. Sweet voice, perfect features, alluring aura that enticed people towards you. Damn your attractiveness.

"Okay, fine. I'll leave the front door unlocked though in case you still wanna swing by afterwards."

"Aw, thanks, handsome." you'd teased, elbowing him on the side. The contact burned Eddie through his clothes, skin still tingling with hot jealousy, which he quickly distracted himself from by changing the subject to something irrelevant.

Eddie was left to sulk by himself by the sofa that night, and he was eternally grateful that Wayne was working out of state that weekend so as to not see the plight of his nephew moping around in the house alone. It undoubtedly would've resulted with Wayne grunting, placing his hands on his hips, cigarette loosely dangling from his lips as he'd ask: "where's (Y/n)?"

He didn't need any additional salt in the wound, Eddie thought.

Eddie had practically memorized every detail of Poltergeist at this point, the exact dialogue exchanged, when the jump scares occurred, when a character was going to be killed - but it was far less fun when you weren't sitting next to him, narrating out loud and giggling at his dumb jokes.

This sucked. It really, really sucked - especially since he knew that you were out probably holding hands with and leaning your head against that popular blonde, the complete antithesis to Eddie. Shifting uncomfortably on the couch, Eddie just wished that he could simply melt away, the stabbing feeling of jealousy never once leaving him.

Then he heard someone knock on the door. You had opened it and leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over your chest as if you'd just been swinging by casually as planned.

"Hey." you'd offered, student president jacket draped over your shoulders, form fitting jeans hugging your thighs. "Can I come in?"

"Y-yeah." he'd muttered out, dazed, mind whirling with the million possibilities that could've led you to his trailer. After all, when he'd said you could still swing by after the date, he didn't think you would actually take the offer. Eddie figured you'd end up being driven home in Tyler's porsche or end up at the blonde's place instead, clothes discarded on his expensive penthouse bedroom floor.

"D-did you even go on the date?" Eddie spluttered, bewildered, shifting over to make space for you. Your expression soured at that, nose crinkling at the top, lips puckering.

"I did, but... it was a total bust. Turns out, we don't have much in common."

"Really?" It was impossible to hide the complete shock from his tone, in response to which you turned around and raised your eyebrows, challenging him.

"What?"

Eddie shrugged his shoulders, shaking his head sideways simultaneously.

"I don't know, I just figured... you're both popular, attractive and outgoing people. Would seem like it'd be a perfect match on paper."

"Eh. The conversation was stilted and awkward. Our sense of humor totally didn't match. And honestly?" you paused, giggling softly before continuning. "Everything he said and did annoyed me. Like somehow he was the amalgamation of every flaw and quirk I hate in a person."

"Yeah?" Eddie hid his smile of pride and relief behind his hands, as you snatched the popcorn bowl from his lap and popped a kernel into your mouth.

"Yeah. So I called the date off short."

"What'd you tell him?"

"The truth, duh. That he's a nice guy but we're a total mismatch. He tried to argue otherwise, grabbing my wrist and tugging me back to his car, but I just stared back and told him it was clear he was still in love with his ex anyways so he should probably just chase her."

"Huh." was all Eddie can offer in response as you flashed him another comforting grin and leaned back into the couch cushions, body loosening as your gaze fixated on the blue screen ahead.

Eddie stared down at his hands before back up to you, admiring how flickers of blue and red light passed over your face as another gruesome scene played, your jaw carved by the contrast of shadow and light dancing on your face.

It was a sight Eddie had seen a million times, but it never failed to make his heart race.

"Sorry that the date didn't work out." he whispered into the night, knees brushing up against yours.

He didn't mean it, at all.

You looked down at him with a lazy grin, shrugging your shoulders.

"Don't be, moonshine. Cause the date led me back here, didn't it? So it wasn't a total bust."

His heart fluttered at that, electricity tingling at his finger tips, as you then shuffled closer towards him to throw a blanket over both your laps. Your head on his shoulder, knees weighing against his lap as you leaned against him, all Eddie could do was nod in response.

"Definitely not."

Perhaps Eddie would be okay with you going on dates - so long as it meant more nights like this.

------------------------------------------------

58: your "i'm thinking hard" face. I don't think you realize you do it, but when you're really concentrating on something, your eyes glaze over and lighten and you pout your lips. I love that sight.

"What're you working on?"

You looked up upon hearing Eddie's muffled question, his lips preoccupied with a large muffin as you scowled and brushed away the spare crumbs from your desk. He had insisted on coming over and "helping you" study for the senior finals, which in Eddie's terminology really meant stealing snacks from your cupboard and trying to distract you as you worked.

"Senior prom planning." you'd responded, dropping your pencil onto the desk and rubbing your forehead with your fingers to soothe the stress. "It's taking fucking forever too. There's like, a million things to still work out before next Friday."

Right, the prom. Eddie remembered seeing all the obnoxiously colorful decorations around school advertising the event, alongside the countless cheesy promposals he'd been a witness to involuntarily.

Eddie didn't have an immediate response to that, so you returned your attention to the stack of papers, your face entering a trance like zone he recognized as concentration. It evened out your features perfectly and even your slightest reflexes - biting down on the edge of a wooden pencil or flicking the square corners of the pages with your delicate fingers - made you so attractive to him.

"Well, if you're planning it, I know it's gonna be fantastic." he had offered in consolation.

"You're not going?" you whipped your head back to stare at him, shocked, to which Eddie only shrugged his shoulders.

"Never been my scene. You have fun though, yeah?"

"But it's our final year!" you insisted.

"Your final year." he reminded you, his eyebrows crinkling in disgust. I have to repeat again."

You waved his comment off, abandoning your stack of papers and stationery by your desk before sitting next to him on your bed, fierce determined look on your face.

"Eddie, it's not just any dance this year. It's senior prom! One that I worked really hard on! And don't make an excuse and say that your other friends aren't going, literally everyone bought tickets - even the science geeks."

Damn, there went his excuse, thought Eddie. Your pleading gaze was heavy on his shoulders, teeth gnawing his bottom lips as he mulled over it, head turning fuzzy when you reached over and placed your hand on his lap.

"Come on, moonshine. Please? For me?"

He swore you had the ability to hypnotize people. It was the only logical explanation for when you fluttered your eyelashes and left delicate touches on his skin, Eddie's mind blanked and he wordlessly agreed to any of your suggestions. Prom and Eddie did not mix, at all, from the popular kids winning titles to the wearing of suits and cheesy slow dances, but when you were asking him....

"Come on.... I'll even save a dance for you." you had said quietly, voice dripping with undeniable affection.

"Fine." Eddie surrendered, accepting the pink paper ticket you dug out from your bag, your fingers brushing against his when he took the slip of paper from your grasp.

Then once Eddie got back to his trailer, he stared at the ticket for a few minutes in the dark, an odd stirring sensation settling in his stomach. He'd been your best friend for 11 years at this point. You were about to graduate. He was about to repeat senior year.

Next year would be the first year he wouldn't be spending every moment with you.

The panic that filled his throat was foreign, chest feeling as if an elephant was standing on top his body, prickly stabbing sensations in his lower abdomen. Staring at the pink slip of paper, Eddie turned the ticket over by the window, watching how the font of the words 'senior prom' flickered and changed under the pale moonlight.

Eddie had to tell you.

If there was any day to tell you that he loved you, that he wanted something more, it would have to be on prom night.

Letting out a shaky exhale, Eddie carefully tucked the ticket underneath a set of magazines on his desk, before forcing himself to drift off to sleep.

Prom came in a flash. Wayne had gone the extra mile of driving to the town next over to rent a proper suit for him, the velvet fabric and square shoulders fitting his figure nicely. But Eddie didn't recognize himself in this sort of attire - he was still pulling at stray hems and ruffling with the edges of the fabric in the mirror when he'd realize that he'd wasted twenty minutes just staring at himself.

"Shit."

His plan was to seek you out the moment he arrived, but the gymnasium was packed with people - a flurry of glittery fabrics and bright party lights, blue and purple balloons tied to the ivory white chairs and tables, fairy string lights intertwined with satin curtains. He'd bumped into his science club friends and before he knew it, he was practically pinned to be by their side, the sea of unfamiliar faces blocking you from view.

He caught the sight of you a full hour and a half into the dance, a brief glimpse of white velvet fabric as you easily walked through the crowd greeting people, before you disappeared from sight again. Eddie was already beginning to excuse himself from his friend group when static rang out from the stage, and the principal announced that it was time to read the results for the prom title crownings.

It was only when the party had completely died down - crushed coke cans and rumpled party banners on the floor, a slow forgettable song flowing from the speakers, half-eaten paper plates stacked on top of stained tablecloths - that he was able to approach you. You were mid-conversation with the principal, probably exchanging pleasantries as the balding man applauded your effort and all your service the past four years, before you turned and your bright eyes drooped in exhaustion.

They lightened up, however, when they landed on his figure, and you excitedly waved at him.

"There you are! Had a great time?" you questioned, excited to hear his response.

"Yeah! Shame we just uh, didn't get our dance." Eddie awkwardly added, hoping to mask his disappointment. The cleaning team had already begun to take the decorations down, the music club tidying up the DJ booth on the stage behind you.

"We can still have our dance, silly. Follow me."

You quietly led him out to the parking lot, which was now completely abandoned save for the few empty vehicles and black streetlights. Leading Eddie over to your car, you opened the front seat and dug out your Walkman from your bag. Checking which cassette was in, you grinned, pressing play and placing the player on the roof of your car.

"Come on, I don't bite." you'd joked, noticing how Eddie had seemingly tensed up as the music began to flow and you placed arm over his neck. He nodded, a weak smile on his face, before he carefully put his two hands on your waist, gently swaying to the romantic melodies of Ella Fitzgerald.

"You alright?" you asked, noticing that he wasn't making any eye contact with you, his brown orbs instead choosing to focus on how his feet shuffled on the pavement next to yours.

"Y-yeah." he breathed out, glancing up for a brief moment. "It's just-"

He paused. You looked ethereal. Even in the dull, harsh yellow light of the street lamps, you carried an almost golden glow, your facial features only seemingly complimented by the night sky. He swore he could count every individual star in the sky in your eyes, your French perfume washing over him in waves, clouding his senses like toxic smoke.

"We've been friends since we were 7." Eddie slowly started out as you laughed quietly, shaking your head in affirmation.

"Yeah. Nearly 11 years, crazy, huh?"

"Y-yeah. And I've been thinking, since this is our last year together in Hawkins before you go off to university, I should be... honest with you."

You frowned at that, your grin dropping for a fraction of a second before a curious smirk replaced it.

"You telling me you haven't been honest with me?"

"Not like that! But, I realized something. It's something I've been thinking about for, uh, a while, and maybe I should've said earlier but there never seemed to be a good time."

He was practically shaking with nerves, throat closing up, alarm bells ringing in his head. He could tell that you could sense his sudden anxiety, the way his breath stopped coming out in regular intervals and his shoulders tensed as if bracing for impact.

"What is it, Eddie?"

This was it. He took in a deep breath, looked you right in the eyes, and opened his mouth, "I love you" on the tip of his tongue-

"(Y/n)! You want any sides with your pizza?" another voice rang out from the car two spots down, from a blue BMW belonging to a student none other than Steve Harrington.

Fuck.

Eddie knew of Steve. They weren't friends, hardly acquaintances. But he knew that Steve was everything Eddie wasn't: popular, charming, star basketball player, adored by everyone, Hawkins royalty. Now that Eddie thought about it, he'd vaguely seen you and Steve talking in between classes and after basketball games - just catching up on random things, you'd insisted, just two close friends.

Now Eddie wasn't too sure how true that statement was.

"Just pizza is fine, thanks! But maybe some soda?" you shouted over, breaking away from Eddie for a moment, and he cursed himself for how he instantly missed your warm arms being wrapped around him. Steve flashed you a thumbs up from his driver's seat before driving into the night, leaving Eddie to stare at you with baited curiosity.

"You're... going off to Harrington's?"

"Yeah! His parents are out of town and he just got the sickest television - like the newest model - and a few VHS tapes rented out. He also helped out the most with the prom whilst I was planning it, so I offered to pay for pizza when he asked if I wanted to come over for movie night."

Red hot flashes of anger blinded Eddie's vision for a second, before it was replaced by crushing sadness - you were going over to Steve Harrington's. Alone. After prom. To watch a movie.

Something you two did all the time.

Eddie was trying his best to keep his face neutral, to prevent the devastating realization that he'd waited too long to confess his love to weigh down his smile. His efforts seemed to pay off, as the small smile on your face never faded, before you shook those thoughts off and stared up at Eddie innocently.

"Anyways, you wanted to... tell me something?"

Suddenly, Eddie hated the song that was playing in the background - Dream a Little Dream of Me - and his throat ran dry.

"Yeah. Just... once you leave, can I use your cafeteria card?"

Chuckling, you nodded, still completely blind to how devastated Eddie was internally.

"Sure, Eddie. Really, that was what you were so scared to ask me about?"

'No.' he responded automatically, internally.

"Yeah. I know, it's kinda dumb, but I just wasn't sure if the school president would be willing to bend the rules for me a bit." he teased, mock smile on his lips, elbowing you on the side. You shoved him off playfully.

"Please, I'd do anything for you, Eds. You're my best friend."

The words felt bitter on his tongue now, mouth filling with sour tones, but he nonetheless forced himself to smile at you warmly.

The moonlight was blinding him.

-----------------------------------------

66: your drunken ramblings. I swear, when you're drunk, you become a total clumsy, reckless mess. It's hilarious but also concerning, if I'm being honest. No wonder Robin is always playing the sober driver around you.

The first year without you was brutal, Eddie found.

He'd made a few new friends after your departure to Boston, boys who were equally obsessed with fictional universes and fantasy roleplaying as him - Jeff and Gareth, with whom he created the 'Hellfire Club' with - and he'd joined Corroded Coffin as a guitarist.

Anything to fill the void, now that you were no longer here.

On a good month, you'd be able to call him on a Sunday late at night to fill Eddie in on how you were adjusting to university life. He'd listen to you ramble about anything - your course, your new friends, how hectic and busy and off putting you found the bustling city - with a lovesick grin on his face, imagining in his mind how you'd scrunch up your face and toy with the telephone chord with your fingers during the conversation.

"You always let me talk too much on these catch up calls." you'd once teased, slightly embarrassed. "Feel free to tell me to shut up at any time."

"Never." Eddie had insisted, sitting up straight. He'd never get tired of listening to your sweet voice from half away across the country.

But there were many more months where neither of you could call - exam seasons, holidays spent apart, the fact that you lived by a university schedule and Eddie still went by a high school one. And though Eddie was beginning to adjust nicely to his new group of friends and was determined to graduate on his second try, nothing quite filled the gaping hole in his heart left by your absence.

So when you'd finally come back for summer break, Eddie basically refused to leave you alone. On the second week upon your return, you'd showed up at his trailer with an interesting proposition.

"You remember Amber? Head cheerleader our final year together?"

Eddie shook his head, biting down the truth which was that he had no idea who you were talking about.

"Well, I got an invitation to her engagement party and I can bring a plus one. Wanna... come with me?"

Had anyone else asked Eddie, he would've said no in a heartbeat. But he was starved of your presence, having missed you for a whole year, and how could he say no to you now when you were in front of him? Breathing, real, smiling so prettily, asking for him to spend a whole day with you?

"Sure."

Eddie semi-regretted it later on when you two actually drove up to the party later that night.

"I hate parties." Eddie groaned into his half-empty beer bottle, leaning against the balcony whilst Robin just shot him an amused grin, having been invited as a plus one to Steve.

"Then why'd you come?" she pressed, pink lips wrapping around an half empty wine bottle. The answer was simple, really - Eddie had come for you.

Otherwise, he truly couldn't care less about attending a fancy engagement party on the upper east side of Hawkins. Houses lined with white picket fences, expensive cars parked by marble driveways, huge penthouses with glazed windows and arched ceilings.

"You came for (L/n), right?" the brunette teased, licking her lower lips to catch the stray drops of alcohol dancing on her tongue.

"I guess so, yeah." he'd confessed, dropping his gaze to the floor.

"... When are you just gonna come out and say it?" Robin had then questioned, placing her hands on her hips, as if she was a parent scolding a child. "Seriously, Steve and I have placed bets since sophomore year and we're still sore losers at this point because neither of us have won our bets."

Eddie sighed, eyes flicking up to look into the large living room filled with sweaty bodies dancing to the loud house music, his eyes easily being able to scan the crowd to narrow in on your figure. You were twirling Steve around in a dramatic manner, almost making the boy bump into the table of food and topple over a stack of cupcakes, to which you quickly shouted out an apology and Steve began to laugh uncontrollably.

"It's not that simple, Buckley."

"Uh, it's very simple, Munson." she dragged out her sentence in a dramatic fashion, leaning against the balcony with one arm propped up as she looked him up and down. "You ask to go somewhere private. You say "I've loved you since we were 7." You two kiss and start to date."

She counted off of her fingers one by one as if crossing off a hypothetical list, before smiling at the metalhead. Eddie just scowled at that - god, none of his friends knew just how hard it was for him.

"It's not just... that. Like it's one thing that I've kept this a secret for over a decade now."

"Then what's stopping you?"

Eddie paused. He'd never confessed this to anyone before, he realized, staring up at his friend's curious face. He'd kept his insecure thoughts close to his chest, afraid of letting any of them see the light of day, afraid of the judgment he'd call upon himself upon being vulnerable.

But hell, what did he have to lose?

"I just don't know if... I'm good enough."

"What'd you mean?"

"Like... I've always been the outsider. The weirdo looking in. Sunshine's not like that. Popular, extroverted, outgoing, friendly - good at everything, loved by everyone. Even though we've been best friends for over a decade now, I've always felt as if... (Y/n)'s out of reach from me. I don't think I'd really be able to match up to someone like that."

Robin's smile faded into an expression of sympathy, which Eddie flashed her a grateful smile in response, her left hand then springing up to clasp onto his shoulder.

"Shit, Eddie... That's heavy. I had no idea."

Eddie wasn't quite sure if he appreciated or loathed the sorry smile on her face.

"Yeah, well, it's whatever. Just how things are, I guess."

Robin opened her mouth to object when you and Steve messily cut into the conversation, you practically tripping on your feet with how drunk you were, the sting of alcohol wafting off of you in waves.

"I've had seven shots of vodka." you proudly announced, steadying yourself against Eddie's shoulders by shakily grasping his body. He had to steady you upright as you toppled over on a step you didn't see, his sturdy arms hooking underneath your shaky arms. "Oops."

"Jokes on you, I've had eight." Steve countered, swaying from side to side, leaning on Robin who only rolled her eyes playfully and shoved him off.

"You alright?" Eddie whispered underneath Robin and Steve's loud bickering, brushing away stray strands of hair from your glazed over eyes. You nodded, humming lowly, before your bottom lip protruded in a pout.

"Mmhmm. I need more vodka though."

"Oh no you don't-" Eddie had to physically drag your body out of reach from the stacks of vodka bottles decorating the main table, your small frown quickly displaced by a mopey grin as you buried your drunken head into the pit of his arm. "I'm taking you home."

"I don't need to go home, I just need to sober up a bit!" you'd insisted, pushing away from Eddie, flailing your arms around. "Come on, the cake hasn't even been brought out yet, and I promised Amber I'd stick around till then."

"Fine." Eddie set his red solo cup down by the wooden railings, before decisively grabbing your left hand in his. "We're going for a walk to sober up then, okay?"

"Okay."

It was a chilly summer evening, green leaves and stray weeds crunching underneath his boots as you stumbled behind him, your warm hands a stark contrast from Eddie's cold ones. He could feel his metal rings shift against your skin as you swayed your linked arms together back and forth like a child, wide smile on your lips.

"Sobering up?" he'd teased, shooting you an amused grin in the dark, the empty streets illuminated only by the flickering yellow streetlights, the crescent moon hidden behind a fog of clouds.

"Hardly." you grumbled.

"Guess we need to walk a bit more."

Eventually, the two of you stumbled across an empty playground, and before Eddie could talk you out of it you'd decided to make a run towards the seesaw, forcing him to follow behind you closely.

"(Y/n)-"

"Sit, Eddie." you'd instructed, pushing down on his shoulders to force him down on one side. "Please, Eddie? Like the old times?"

Eddie smiled at that - it felt just like yesterday that Eddie was seven, red flushed face peeking underneath half-formed head of curls, clutching onto the seesaw in the school playground. Letting out an exaggerated sigh, he pretended to surrender into it, sitting down on to the wooden plank.

That somehow devolved into chasing you around the playground: pushing you down the slide, racing you to the top of the monkey bars, spinning you on the merry-go-round until you physically couldn't breathe anymore from how hard you were laughing. Eddie was no different, eyes tearing up as he fell onto the trampoline next to you, heavy breaths meeting the cold air as he tried to regain his breath.

"So much for a quick walk." he'd muttered, staring up at the few stars twinkling above.

"Did the job of sobering me up a bit though." you countered. "And plus, you can't tell me that playgrounds aren't real fucking fun. Even if we're adults."

"Not denying that, sunshine."

You turned over to stare at him, face a few inches from his, and there was a certain glint in your eyes that he couldn't quite read. Hint of a smile on your dry lips, your hands came up underneath your head to support it, fabric rustling as you adjusted your posture.

"It's crazy, isn't it? We're now at a age where our friends are getting fucking engaged."

"It's mental, yeah."

"... You ever think you'd want to get married? Like Amber?" you raised your eyebrows, voice half serious but half playful. His immediate answer - that he often thought about marriage with you - passed by his mind like a bullet train before he quickly replaced it with a safer answer.

"I'd like to think so, eventually, yeah. What about you?"

You hummed.

"Not sure. I'm a bit scared by the whole 'life commitment' aspect of it. I think the only person I've been able to tolerate my whole life has been like, you. Funny, huh?" you'd joked, sitting up right, as Eddie did the same.

His heart was pounding at a million beats per minute, your innocuous comment sparking electricity in his veins, but he had to remind himself instantly: you didn't mean anything by it.

"Yeah, funny."

Once returning to the party, Eddie found that the rest of the party participants had devolved into a game of truth or dare and spin the bottle. He'd participated in the latter, semi-half heartedly, at your insistence. All was fine until the beer bottle landed on you, and the person to your left announced that you had to kiss whoever you knew for the longest in the circle.

You'd done the unthinkable to Eddie, simply turning towards him, grabbing his face and giving him a fierce, wet kiss. It was the kind of kiss that had all the girls screaming in excitement and all the boys hollering with whistles, the kind that made Eddie break out in red flushes of embarrassment, mouth still tingling with the aftertaste of vodka and your honey chapstick when you pulled away.

"Didn't wanna lose, sorry Eds." you'd commented against his lips, flashing him a wink. He would've given you a joking comment in response, but his mouth was dry and his palms were sweaty, mind still catching up with what had just happened.

It was a joke. You were drunk.

But damn, Eddie wanted to have your lips on his again.

----------------------------------------------

83: you're an absolute whiz with the kids. Not just Henderson, the whole gang. Sometimes, I think they like you more than me - which I can't be offended by either. I like you more than me.

Second year without you in Hawkins.

Eddie was repeating senior year again.

God, it sucked. There were only so many late night calls and hastily written letters he could exchange with you before he went mad. He swore it had become a nightly ritual to stare at his house phone and to check his calendar each morning, counting down every day before any major holiday during which you might return to Hawkins.

You'd missed Christmas last year due to a research project and you'd similarily chose to spent Easter in Boston, leaving Eddie bored and a bit lonely. Sure, Eddie had gotten used to Hawkins High at this point. Hell, he'd started to revel in being the weirdo, the outcast, of purposefully pissing off the popular kids.

But it never got easy missing you.

It was a boring Tuesday morning. Eddie was thinking of anything in particular, eyes still laden with fatigue and his head still stuck in his semi-dreamlike state, when he'd stumbled over to his trailer door and swung it open.

But you were waiting for him on the other side, in a pair of blue jeans and a warm maroon university sweatshirt covering your figure, your arms outstretched for a hug.

"SURPRISE!"

He blinked at you silently like a deer in headlights, to which you chuckled nervously and lowered your arms slightly.

"Oh. Did I-"

Eddie didn't let you finish your sentence before he basically pummeled into you, wrapping his sturdy arms around your waist, squeezing you so tight that you couldn't breathe as he mumbled his next words against your neck.

"Holy shit, I missed you so much." his voice was wavering the slightest bit, tears lingering in the corner of his eyes which he rapidly blinked away before you could see them form properly.

"I missed you so much too, moonshine." you replied softly, voice tinged with adoration and fondness.

"H-how, or I guess, why are you here?"

"I got a day off earlier than I thought on my research project and I don't have any plans for the weekend so... figured I'd swing by Hawkins!"

"Swing by? You're not staying?" Eddie's smile fell by a fraction.

"I'm only here for a day before I'm flying back - I have to start preparing for midterms, plus I told one of my friends back in Boston that I'd help her move."

"Well." Eddie had teased, wrapping one arm around your shoulder, his other hand dangling the keys to his van. "Guess we gotta make the most of these 24 hours, huh?"

His first stop was to take you to the diner you were obsessed with, a small red and white colored establishment hidden behind the gas station that served the best french fries and milkshake you swore you'd ever tasted.

"God, I've missed this." you groaned, taking a light sip of the frothy dessert. "This is why I came back, actually." you joked, making him pout like a petulant child.

"You're mean."

"Eh. You like it."

His smile was automatic - he was just too happy to be in your company again, to see how your cheeks dimpled with a smile, to hear your lively voice right by his ears.

"I do."

The next stop was decided by you to be the arcade. Impatient at how slowly Eddie was walking, you grabbed his left hand to tug him along, making him chuckle at how excited you seemed to be over a couple of video games.

"(Y/n)?" a small, quiet voice rang out, stealing your attention away from Eddie and making you drop his hand.

"DUSTY!!!"

You eagerly waved over the curly haired boy whose face lit up in a wide grin at the sight of you, before he stumbled over and hugged you fiercely, awed expression marking his face.

"I thought you'd still in Boston!"

"I am! I'm just back for the day."

"Cool! Who's this?" Dustin had asked, pointing at Eddie, semi-frown etched on his face. Eddie had to suppress a scowl at that, as well as swallowing a harsh "get lost." He had no idea who this middle school kid was, but he already didn't like that (a) this kid had taken your attention away from Eddie and (b) now the boy was cutting into your one day back in Hawkins with Eddie.

"Oh right, this is Eddie, my best friend! Eddie, this is Dustin, one of the kids I used to babysit."

"Nice to meet you." Eddie had forced out, attempting to give the younger boy a reassuring grin. The faux smile didn't seem to work on Dustin, who only scrunched up his face in response, his sour expression melting away into a warm one the moment his eyes met back up with yours.

"Speaking of babysitting, I hope Steve's been treating you well." you teased, ruffling Dustin's hair. The younger boy sighed dramatically at that.

"I wish. In fact, Harrington's supposed to be 'watching me' here at the arcade - in reality, he's here to flirt with her."

You looked over to where he was pointing to see Steve leaning over the counter of the arcade, coy smirk on his face as he clearly tried to charm a pretty blonde girl.

"Tragic. I see his flirting skills haven't improved." you teased, making Dustin chuckle as well. "Hey, remember when you thought Steve and I were dating?" you looked back at Eddie, wiggling your eyebrows.

Eddie flushed red with embarrassment at that, whilst the younger boy's mouth dropped open in surprise.

"You two DATED?"

"No, Dusty, never. But this silly man over here-" you elbowed Eddie, and he shoved you off quickly with a small scowl on his face. "Thought that Steve and I were an item at one point. Senior year, in fact. As if Steve's not like the big brother I never had."

"You two do fight like siblings." Dustin added, and your smirk only widened. "Speaking of Steve, uh, since he's basically ditched me for the blonde - can I hang out with you for the rest of the day? Please?"

"Of course you can!" you exclaimed, nodding enthusiastically. "It's okay if Dustin joins us, right?" you'd asked Eddie, turning around to smile at him.

Eddie wanted to say no. The word was begging to be let out from his lips, sitting heavy on his tongue, but when you flashed him that hopeful glance and that damn kid gave him his puppy dog eyes (damn, Dustin was good at that), Eddie couldn't bear to be the bad guy and deny the invitation.

"Yeah, of course. Come on in, kid."

Eddie eventually loosened up to Dustin's presence over the night - the first hour or so he sulked in the background, feeling like a third wheel to your inside jokes and excited conversations with the boy, until you left to go to the bathroom. Eddie was leaning against the railings with Dustin sitting cross legged on the floor, before the boy picked his head up and pointed to Eddie's shirt.

"What's Hellfire?"

Eddie scoffed.

"You wouldn't get it, kid."

"Uh, I'm about to be a freshman next year, I'm pretty sure I can handle it. Come on, I wanna know."

"It's like a... club I started. Where we play games."

"What kind of games? Like Defender and Tron?" the young boy's question was so genuine, expression so innocent and full of wonder, that Eddie couldn't help but laugh a bit and let his guard down.

"No, no. It's called Dungeons and Dragons, D&D for short. It's like a roleplaying game."

Dustin continued to stare at the metalhead, peeking upwards to silently urge him to go on, and within minutes, Eddie was telling the curly haired boy everything he had to know about D&D. To his surprise, Dustin's attention never once wavered, only interrupting Eddie to ask questions and to press him further for more information.

"Aw man, that sounds so cool! I wish I could play right now." Dustin stated, eyes wide with awe.

"Well, Hellfire Club is open to any Hawkins High student - once you're a freshman next year, you and your friends are all welcome to join."

"Really?"

"Yeah dude! More the merrier, right?"

"Oh, awesome!"

"Did I miss something?" you'd joked, wiping your hands on the knee pads of your jeans, eyes flickering between the two excitable boys. You'd clearly missed a bonding moment between them, it seemed, and it warmed your heart to see your best friend and Dustin get along so well in your absence.

"Eddie just told me about D&D and said I could join his club next year! Isn't that cool?" Dustin rambled, tugging at your sleeves. You chuckled, nodding.

"That's very cool, Dustin. Now come on, I'm pretty sure I'm still better than you at Centipede and I want to prove it."

Night settled into Hawkins quickly, dark black skies covering the streets as you ushered Dustin into the back of Eddie's van, refusing to let him cycle back home in the dark. Eddie had to stop at a gas station for a brief moment, and you stopped him from getting out, waving your wallet in your right hand.

"Stay. I'll cover gas."

"And can you pick up some beef jerky too? Please?" Dustin asked from the back, jostling up and down from his seat. You chuckled at his antics, unstrapping your seat belt.

"Sure, Dusty. I'll be right back, okay?"

Once you shut the door and your figure disappeared behind the bright lights of the gas station store, Dustin spoke up.

"How long have you been crushing on (Y/n)?"

"WHAT?" Eddie had spluttered out, choking on air as he coughed repeatedly to let air back into his lungs. Dustin just shook his head sideways at that, clicking his tongue against the roof his mouth.

"Come on, dude, it's obvious. How long have you been pining after my babysitter? A year?"

Silence.

"Three years?"

Silence.

"MORE THAN FIVE YEARS?" Dustin shouted out, surprised. Eddie bit his lower lip, before the admission fell out with a heavy sigh.

"More like twelve."

"TWELVE?"

Eddie quickly turned around from his seat up front, twisting his upper body to glare at the younger boy.

"Yeah, 12 years, anyways, that's not that important. How the hell did you know?"

The curly haired boy just shrugged, smiling smugly as if it was common knowledge and Eddie was the idiot for not figuring it out.

"You were glaring daggers into Steve's head when he accidentally touched hands with (Y/n) whilst they were talking. Oh, and you won't stop staring. And smiling. And subtledly flirting. And you have that lovesick grin on your face that Lucas gets for Max or Mike gets for El."

"I don't know who those people are." Eddie had countered.

"They're my friends - whatever, it's not important. The point is, Eddie, you look at my babysitter the same way my friends look at their girlfriends."

The heated conversation was cut off short by you reappearing by the driver's window, the metal door swinging open as you waved the beef jerky packet over your head before tossing it to Dustin in the back seat.

"Gas has been taken care of and here is your jerky, Dustin. Ready to go?" you asked cheerily, totally oblivious to the conversation you've just missed between the two boys. Innocent smiles on both their faces, both boys nodded silently, though Dustin flashed Eddie a sly smirk in the rearview mirror.

"Where to next?" Eddie teased once Dustin had been dropped off.

"My house, please. I need to pick up my backpack before I head off to the airport, gotta use the phone to call a taxi too."

"Let me drive you." Eddie offered immediately, swallowing down his tired yawns. You frowned at that, worried.

"Are you sure? It's a bit of a long drive, Eds, and it's already kinda late at night-"

"Nonsense, sunshine. I'm driving you and that's final."

In reality, Eddie was trying to stretch out as much of his time with you as he could. He knew he had an early start tomorrow and he was feeling rather tired, but he'd be damned if he was going to lose out on an extra hour next to you by letting you take a taxi instead.

"Alright then." you smiled, nodding.

His van pulled up to the airport too quickly for Eddie's liking, his immature first thought being that he wanted to lock his car doors to prevent you from getting out.

"Take care of him for me, would you?" you'd asked once Eddie had driven you to the airport, swinging your backpack over your shoulder, fiddling with the clasps. "Him and all his friends, if you end up meeting them all next year as freshmen... They're all lovely kids. They could all use someone as amazing as you looking out for them."

His heart melted at your admission and he nodded automatically, slow grin appearing on his chapped lips.

"Of course. They're in safe hands."

"Thanks, Eds."

You stepped forward to give him one last hug, your face squished against his upper chest, and Eddie took his time to commit the feeling of your arms around him to memory.

All the loud noise - the intercom announcing flight details, the distant chatter of conversations from strangers, the shuffling of luggage and dragging of feet on the floor - dissipated into the background, his senses overwhelmed with one and only one thing.

You.

And how much he loved you.

"See you soon?" Eddied added hopefully once you two parted. He'd beg you to come back for at least Christmas, but that was never a given and he didn't want to be standing in the way of your career. You smiled back at him gently, patting his hands reassuringly.

"See you soon, moonshine."

----------------------------------------

95: your bravery. I'll never forget how you handled finding out about the Upside Down. Whilst I wanted to run as far away from the monsters, you dived in headfirst. I was worried sick for you, you know. But I knew it was dumb of me to expect otherwise - you're the type of person willing to put your life on the line for your friends.

Eddie wished he'd seen you again in much better circumstances.

Not when he was repeating senior year for the third time and he was being hunted down by Jason Carver and the entire police department under suspicision for murder.

He immediately tensed when he heard footsteps and a crowd of voices ring out from the entrance of the lakehouse, his breath catching in his throat as he tried to remain as still as possible from his hiding spot. His mind was racing with an array of threats and worst case scenarios, his hands immediately reaching to the knife digging into his thigh.

"I'm telling you, Steve, things don't add up! Eddie would never kill someone."

He knew that voice. It was you. There was a rumbling amongst the group before the lakehouse fell back into the silence, save for soft padding of a single pair of feet against the wooden floor and the creaking of the front door.

"Eddie? You in here?"

Hesitant for a second but too eager to see you, he lifted his head slowly, dropping the knife back into his back pocket as he straightened up to meet you face to face. To his surprise, your face lacked any sign of judgment or disgust - instead, your eyes brightened with relief and you pulled him in to a bone crushing hug.

"Thank god you're okay! You are okay, right? You're not injured?" you frantically fired off one question after another, hands clutching his chin to lift his head up, eyes grazing over his entire figure scanning for any injuries. He smiled at that - the first genuine smile on his face in weeks - before gathering your hands up in his own and clasping them tight.

"I'm alright, sunshine. Don't worry. More importantly, why are you here?"

"Steve called."

"And?"

"Said you were in trouble. Suspcision for murder. I cancelled all my plans, lied about a family emergency and got here as fast as I could." you rambled, pausing for a moment to shoot him a look of shock. "By the way, did you know that the town is like connected to this hellish mirror universe called the Upside Down? And like there are these supernatural entities showing up threatening to break the very fabric of reality?"

"I don't know too much but based on what I saw with Chrissy, I'm... inclined to believe you more than not." Eddie responded, only to be cut off by Steve's voice from outside.

"YOU'RE STILL ALIVE, RIGHT? CAN WE COME IN NOW?"

You rolled your eyes at that.

"YES, STEVE, I'M ALIVE. They can all come in, right? I swear Steve and the kids can explain everything better than I can."

"Of course."

Eddie had a slightly easier time grasping everything than you - when you'd shot him an incredulous look he simply shrugged and smirked, insisting that it was akin to the many villains and monsters possible in D&D.

The day bled into night quickly and led to you, Nancy, Robin, Steve and Eddie standing by the edge of the lake whilst staring at a rickety wooden boat.

"I call shotgun." you yelled out, brustling past Eddie, only for him to grab your arm and yank you back.

"Uh, I don't think so. You're staying back."

"Says who?"

"Says me! Look, this is too dangerous, I'd rather you stick with the kids or at the very least just wait for us here."

The thought of you getting injured - his nightmares still haunted by what had happened to Chrissy in front of his eyes - made Eddie sick with dread and disgust, goosebumps rising against his skin.

"Tough shit, moonshine." you'd countered, undeterred. "I'm getting on that damn boat whether you want me to or not."

God, you were stubborn, Eddie cursed internally whilst running a hand down his face. He shot his friends standing behind you awkwardly a pleading look.

"Help me out here, guys, come on."

"... Hate to be that person, but if you're coming along then I don't see why (Y/n) can't." Robin added, shrugging her shoulders.

"Also, if this portal is underwater then it'd be good to have another great swimmer in the group." Steve chimed in, and you smirked at Eddie proudly.

"See? And I was varsity swimming captain all four years in high school. You're outnumbered, Eddie, now stop worrying so much."

Biting down his protests, Eddie gave in, though he made it a point to sit as close as he could to you should something go wrong.

And of course things went wrong - Steve got dragged in by an unseen force, you jumped in to the freezing waters right after him, so quick that Eddie hadn't even registered that you'd dived into the lake until the freezing cold waters splashed down onto his jeans.

Shit.

Black slime coating your fingers, grey ash dotting your eyebrows and crimson blood dripping from your coarse fingers, you were a terrifying sight to behold when Eddie saw you next. Clutching a carving knife strapped to your side, you were fearlessly cutting through the swarm of demon bats, saving Steve from potential death.

No, certain death, Eddie thought as you leaned down and helped Steve stand up on shaky legs. A twinge of jealousy stabbed at Eddie's chest at the sight of you shrugging off your jacket to wrap it around Steve's scarred torso, and Eddie couldn't help but think that Steve's hand lingered for too long on your back for it to just be friendly.

"Stop fuming at Steve, yeah? He did save our ass." Robin commented quietly from the side, smirking.

"Was not fuming at Harrington." was Eddie's weak response, to which Nancy and Robin only shot each other an amused glance. The girls ran to support Steve as Eddie walked right up to you, your eyes still on your muddied jeans as you wiped away the excess grime on the faded fabric.

"Hi again." you'd said nonchalantly. "Great weather we're having, huh?" you'd joked, wry smile on your dry lips.

Eddie couldn't believe you.

"You're impossible. And insane. Like actually, totally, insane." he'd responded, shaking his head sideways, awed and impressed.

Here you were - having just found out the truth about Hawkins and confronting a swarm of deadly supernatural creatures, covered in dirt, blood and ash - joking with him as if it was just another normal Wednesday. He didn't know whether to applaud you or scold you for your intense loyalty and bravery.

"You love it though." you stuck your tongue out at him, straightening up.

"I do." he'd said softly.

'And I love you.' was on the tip of his tongue.

But he swallowed it back, being grounded back to reality once Nancy called out to you two to catch up. Shaky feet almost slipping on dirtied grime and blood underneath, he figured there were much bigger things to worry about.

Much, much bigger things.

----------------------------------------

100: you.

Eddie used to think that that day was the most terrifying for him. Watching your body disappear under inky waters, running from demonic creatures, his fingers aching from repeatedly clenching around a metal baseball bat.

No, he's sure now that waiting for you to finish reading the letter is the most terrifying thing ever to have happened to him.

It's a painful and silent twenty minutes, during which he watches your lips quirk into fond smiles and silly frowns - he has to remind you repeatedly to continue reading, and to stop interrupting yourself to say something sentimental to him - all the whilst his heart beats so loud it drowns out the rain beginning to pour outside.

He figures you've finally reached the end when your expression suddenly twists into one of confusion, and you slowly look up at him through your lashes.

"Did you give up on the final point?" you joke, making Eddie frown.

"What'd you mean?"

"For number 100. You just wrote one word: 'you.' For all the other numbers, you wrote down more than that."

"Right." Eddie affirms, lacing his fingers together nonchalantly. He hopes the dim lighting in the room is masking his flushed cheeks, and that his voice is remaining as stable as he thinks it is in his head. "I told you I wrote a list of 100 things I love about you, right?"

"Yeah." you repeat back, still not grasping it.

God, he wonders, how could you be so bright yet so oblivious that he has to spell it out for you?

"All the other numbers combined, leading up to number 100. The thing I love the most about you is... that you're, uh, you." he slowly finishes.

Eddie's sentence hangs heavy in the air, atmosphere in the room suddenly sweltering hot and thick, your fingers slowly closing the envelope with your arms falling to your lap.

"... What are you saying?"

There was no going back.

"I love you."

There.

He'd said it.

Nearly 15 years of secret pining, of watching you date one guy after another whilst feigning disinterest, of being teased by all your mutual friends for his infatuation for you, of accepting your warm hugs and nightly cuddles as nothing but platonic...

All down to those three cursed words: i love you.

It's out in the open now, Eddie's stomach twisting with a tornado of emotions as he carefully tries to gauge your reaction. You're motionless, eyes wide and unblinking for a moment, your deft hands dropping the letter onto the bed.

"A-are... are you serious?" you squeak out.

Eddie suppresses a laugh at how shocked and in disbelief you seem to be.

"Well... yeah. Trust me, I wouldn't write 100 things I love about someone just for anyone."

You just nod at that, emotionless, eyes falling to your carpeted floor. He can't figure out what you're thinking, but it feels as if time is ticking by achingly slow and his lungs burn with anticipation with every beat of silence that passes in your bedroom.

It's killing Eddie, not knowing what you're thinking, and for a second he's worried that he's done for.

That he's destroyed your friendship, you're about to frown and tell him that you're sorry but you don't feel the same way. He opens his mouth to quickly begin to let out a string of apologies, preapred to swallow back all his words and beg for forgiveness, but he doesn't get to it.

He can't speak, he can't breathe, he can hardly process anything else other than the fact that your lips are now suddenly on his, your legs straddling his lap as you tackle him onto the mattress. Teeth clashing against teeth, it's desperate, his fingers gripping onto your waist tightly as your lips chase his.

He can taste the remnants of the buttercream frosting from your birthday cake, your lips pillowy and soft. He's kissed you once before, sure - that drunken kiss for the game of truth or dare - but nothing compares to this, the way his vision blinds in ivory white, finger tips buzzing with electricity, heart aflame with infatuation and lust at the way you growl and deepen the kiss.

"I love you too, Eddie." you reply afterwards, lips still swollen from the aftermath of the kiss.

"Really?"

It's his turn to be shocked, heart skipping at the amount of adoration and awe in your hoarse voice.

"Yeah. But w.... why didn't you say anything earlier?" you ask quietly, bewildered. Eddie laughs awkwardly at that, shrugging.

"That's the million dollar question, I guess. I don't know, I just... everyone loves you and wants you. You're so beautiful and talented and outgoing and I... I wasn't sure if you'd ever want to choose me." he mutters out hesitantly, scratching his neck, purposefully avoiding your gaze.

Eddie's a little embarrassed and ashamed to be admitting it now, knowing that you do indeed love him back, but it all melts away like ice in the summer heat when your fingers redirect his chin upwards to meet your gaze.

You're practically glowing with happiness, golden halo around your hairline.

"Always, Eddie. I'd always choose you."

a/n: ANOTHER slow burn Eddie fic down! If you're actually read this right now and you read to the end = thank you. After the overwhelming love y'all gave me for 'you made me hate this city', I knew I had to add another fic to this collection. And ofc, Taylor is my fave artist of all time so it seemed only fitting i honor her with a fic.

SIGH so this fic ALMOST wasn't published. Like i really genuinely didn't know if I would end up posting this. I was (and still am) afraid of putting it out there lmao bc of its length and the unusual writing (like the flashbacks and letter structure), but alas.

This right here is some good stuff

Three. (Eddie Munson x Reader with powers) ongoing series

After the events at starcourt mall last year, Y/N thinks she can finally put all of that behind her and get on with her normal life. Well, as normal as you can get when you grew up in Hawkins lab and have superpowers. But when Dustin and the others begin looking for Eddie to clear his name, of course she was going to help, and maybe unknowingly fall for the wanted Metalhead.

Season 4 rewrite:)

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Trying to post a new chapter every day:)

In the Black Widow’s Nest (Henry Creel x Reader) 🕷️Chapter 2🕷️

*GIF not mine*

Summary:

Prince Henry of the Creel Dynasty is finally in search of a wife, and in the spirit of courtship, King Victor has invited young royalty from all neighboring kingdoms to vie for his hand. But with so much royalty introduces the need for many more maids in the castle than usual.

Enter: You.

You’re nothing but a servant in his home, an intruder in his prized library, and an utter nuisance in his mind. But then you survive his attack, and in an unexpected way nonetheless. That makes you… interesting.

You’ve caught his eye—congratulations! Now, you must deal with the consequences of loving a heartless prince in a world where far worse things lurk in the castle than dirty garderobes.

Chapter 1

A/N: yay, another chapter! and not a million bajillion months later, either, aren’t u guys lucky? I worked hard on this one! Let me know what you think, and I hope you enjoy!

Word count: 4809

The maids of the castle did not have an organized way of awakening. The first one to rise from her cot never rang a bell, nor did she make a sound as she bumbled about the room. The others simply roused at her activity and moved to follow her lead. A soft ray of warmth would peek through window curtains, illuminating the rumpled sheets and the scuffling shoes as the ladies donned their uniforms: white pinafores over black smocks, black sleeves down to the wrists with white cuffs, white bows, black slippers.

A light chatter had begun after one maid, a new recruit hired for the season, had asked another for assistance in tying the pinafore’s bow at her back. By the time the bow was finished, the rest of the room had followed suit. Conversations erupted, and some of the more experienced women had taken to helping the newcomers with their garments. When one began to brush her own hair, so did another. When one adjusted the strap on her own shoe, so did another.

They moved as one body and looked as one body, as was expected of them. None dared to lose their opportunity to work with the castle's wages and living, especially during such a season.

The prince of the Creel Dynasty was finally searching for a wife.

The kingdom had long awaited this announcement from the handsome young heir. In preparation for the many balls, galas, and other festivities promised by this news, the castle staff had welcomed a myriad of new members, all of whom had to be trained before the kingdom could host any visiting royalty.

The maids, therefore, had the strictest schedules and regimens. The nature of their duties made it most plausible to come in contact with a royal, and such required a level of propriety unobserved by them in their previous homes.

But a new fear had struck the collective consciousness of the trainees.

One that made the threat of interacting with royals all the more potent.

You rose from your cot at the tap of the girl beside you. A fierce spasming fired along your spine, where your new wounds must have reopened from the movement.

Briefly, you considered lying back down, letting your headache swallow you whole. Considered Miss Miriam, in a devilish state, screaming at you, dismissing you, dragging you out of the castle. Crawling back home with no money, nothing to show for your promises of dragging them out of the village and whisking them away to a life of less hell. You consider coming out of the castle like you came in. Still nothing. Having nothing.

But a pretty sight struck you—Miss Miriam, with her crop, coming up behind you, and you, twisting and grabbing her by her gray hair, shoving her face into a used chamber pot.

Then swatting the old harpy with her own weapon.

A smile split your face, causing the bruise on your cheek to throb.

One day.

But until that day, you were stuck here under the shameless eyes of your own fellow maids. The show Miss Miriam had put on for the others was one that must be burned into the backs of their eyelids, because the maids did one of two things.

They watched you, or they blinked.

You folded in on yourself, turning away and grasping your uniform tucked neatly beneath your bed. When you rose back up and reached for the hem of your nightdress, you hesitated.

The gazes were so heavy you could drown. Even now, you could feel the oozing blood sticking to the thick fabric. However prominent the bruise on your face was nothing compared to artwork that mangled your back; something was peeling, another splitting, and much was bleeding. It was all one collective wound, one scab healing so slowly that any movement you made renewed the process.

You did everything quickly and quietly. You tore off your dress, peeling off fresh skin with it, and stretched the other one over your head, thankful the black smock wouldn’t stain so evidently. The gasps didn’t slow you down. You tugged on your shoes and straightened your sleeves. You whisked your hair out of your face as you worked, tightening and adjusting and grimacing your way through it.

Tears burned at the corners of your eyes, but you didn’t let them fall. You were surprised you had any left after last night—your own tongue sat as dry as a rock in your mouth. How could there be more?

But they sprang forth when you pulled the pinafore over your sleeves and realized you couldn’t tie the bow yourself. Not as tightly as it should be. Your own body wouldn’t let you do such a thing to your wound.

You needed help. Would any of them be willing to even speak to you? To be seen associating with the first pariah of the group?

You couldn’t imagine yourself doing it. Self-preservation was at an all-time high after your public whipping. Would anyone even believe that you hadn’t wanted any of this? That you hadn’t been a crown-hunting girl begging for trouble? That something bordering on preternatural had invaded your mind and drowned out your senses, and all you could do was cling onto another human as you grappled for reality—who gave a damn if the man just happened to be Prince Henry, the one person women in all the known kingdoms were trying to obtain?

No.

No one would believe you.

Dear God, you sounded deranged. One step away from fleeing into the woods waving sticks and crying demon at every creature you crossed.

The church bells, of all things, being the sounds you’d heard when your own life was slipping away before your eyes. You may as well hang yourself right now, if the king couldn’t decree it any faster.

You dropped the two fabric strings of the pinafore with a muffled snivel, cupping your bruised cheek and letting your eyes fall closed.

Three months. Just three months to shed the new label and secure yourself a permanent position in the castle. Real servants’ lodgings, proper pay, daily meals. You could live the rest of your life not acknowledged by another soul if you could just stay here, safe and content and unheeded.

What more could a person want out of life?

A gentle touch at your shoulder blade drew your attention, and you flinched away before it got any closer to your injuries. You spun around and bumped into your cot, eyeing the other maid warily. Her gaze was kind and bordered on innocent, vibrant blue barely peeking out from behind a wall of curly brown hair. She looked about your age, and at first glance, you would never notice the proud, acute way she held herself.

Like she always knew what she was doing, and yet always knew too much.

And when she offered her hands like a sign of peace, you did not try to back away again. Far be it from you to reject the first kindness you had experienced since you had arrived here.

“I can tie your bow, if you like?”

That same accent, unrefined when compared to what usually bounced off the gilded walls, and you surmise that she must have come from another small village like yours. Unlike you, however, she seemed to have less fear when navigating through unfamiliarities like castles and cruel maids.

Why else would she bother offering the one persona non grata a helping hand?

You pause at her offer, gnawing on your lip as though you had other options to consider. Perhaps there was some ill intent to her aid, but even if there was, you couldn’t figure out what and why and why bother.

“Yes…” you swallowed. “Please.”

She smiled gently and gestured for you to turn around. When her hands tied the bow, it was all light fingers and quiet conversations.

Her name was Nancy, and you learned she had come from the village next to yours. When she couldn’t get a job working for a seamstress, she wound up as something of a governess in the kingdom’s walls, traversing back and forth between her home and those of higher standings nearer to the castle. She was good at watching children, but the castle was offering far more than royalty’s butlers and vicars could afford.

And she was also very sorry for you. What happened yesterday was hard to watch.

You asked her to tighten the bow, dismissing her small hum of concern, and swallowed the bile that rose when the pinafore dug securely into the gashes of your back.

You both knew she had been fixing to leave it loose, letting you decide if the risk of an untidy uniform was worth the comfort.

It wasn’t.

The other maids, it seemed, had grown uninterested the second your wounds were covered for what would be the remainder of the day, and returned to normal conversation. Few glances were thrown your way since Nancy had tied your bow, and you noticed yet another phenomenon.

Caught up in a sea of black and white, the only difference between you and Nancy, between any one maid and another, was her hair. Brunette and blond hair intermixed with black and ginger, all blended seamlessly when plaited or swept up into a bun.

Yours hung loose and knotted down your back, and without a word, Nancy began to wisp the tendrils into a braid. You wanted to stop her, but you couldn’t. Your own arms could barely raise as high as your heart, and your hands shook the second they entered your vision, lifted to stop Nancy’s at your nape.

“There,” she murmured, dismissing your thanks, “now you really blend in. By tonight, the others won’t even remember which bed you’re in.”

“Should I be concerned they know that now?”

She laughed softly. “I suppose not, although I have overheard a few girls bitter about you being with a royal.”

You blanched. “What? That’s what they’re focused on?”

Maybe… maybe you should have guessed some of them might focus on that fact. But look where it got you, and you hadn’t even been trying.

Properly flogged, and now in the sights of one Miss Miriam.

Nancy shrugs. “Just a few. Most have been scared for you. But,” she pauses, pursing her lips, “you must understand that we’re… thankful, in a cruel way.”

Of course. You could understand that.

It terrified you, angered you to no end, but you understood it. Someone had to be a lesson for the others. A demonstration. The new maids needed a spectacle to understand where the power lied—that power did not lie solely within royalty. There were pockets of it left scattered throughout the castle, and cruel-enough servants snatched it up whenever possible, and lorded it over whoever would listen.

But… you wanted to cry at the unfairness of it all. You never thought it would be you.

The collective consciousness reigned over the servants once more, and they began to line up. You spotted a girl, younger-looking than most, step away from the door, and guessed she must have heard footsteps. Nancy nodded at you before joining a line, and you followed.

Like clockwork, the door slammed open, and Miss Miriam entered with a silencing swoosh of her black smock. When her second-in-command entered, goosebumps ran down your spine.

You could still feel yourself struggling in her arms, sobs wracking their way through you as she steadied your form for another lashing. Your heartbeat began thundering in your back, right underneath the bow of the pinafore.

“Ladies, today is a day of utmost importance.” With small, black eyes narrowed and surveying each and every young girl before her, Miss Miriam furrowed her brow and frowned, wrinkles tracing the expressions with ease. Her face pinched together so tightly it resembled a sun-dried grape. “The royal family will be welcoming four promising princesses today, and it will be your duty to clean every inch of the castle they will roam upon before they arrive. Am I understood?”

“Yes, Miss Miriam.”

“We will work as one. We will bow as one. We do everything as one, today and all days, ladies. Efficiently, and quietly.” Her eyes fell on you. “No one will cause trouble today. Understood?”

You gulped. The maids chimed together once more, and you could only mouth along with them.

“Yes, Miss Miriam.”

Her gaze left yours, and the tightening of your throat eased.

“Moira will delegate assignments. Those tidying halls will follow me.”

The hallways, all gilded columns and glistening marble, flared victoriously in the morning sun. Most aspects of the castle seemed to emphasize the Creel Monarchy’s pride, their devout sense of self-satisfaction the principal aspect of every painting, vase, and snuffed sconce.

A portrait of the long deceased King James, great-great-great-great grandfather to Prince Henry—though, you pondered calling the number of greats preceding his name into question (and the word great itself)—sneered down at you, seeming perpetually pleased to be two hundred years in the ground and still lording himself over every subject that roamed his halls.

Disdain for all others must have been passed down the family line religiously.

You dragged your eyes down and away, busying yourself instead with dusting the marbleized snoot of Julius Caesar. The crystalline windows of the castle acted like a magnifying glass against you as you worked, adding a heat to the already aching skin of your back. You were a cockroach wandering too close to a flame, and any second now you could burn up from the inside out, crushed with a crunch rather than a squelch.

Using the back of your hand, you wiped the sweat from your brow, eyes wandering dangerously to the maid who worked beside you.

Nancy, owning the more bearable appearance between the two of you, had been sent out to deliver and replace new bed sheets along with thirty other girls. But the girl beside you, taller and owning a mess of dirty blonde hair swept into an apathetic bun, had somewhat of the same spirit of Nancy. A small glimmer of rebellion shone in her eyes each time Miss Miriam wandered far enough down the glittering hallway so as to only be seen by squinting.

Then, with a wry twitch of her freckled face, she’d rasp five blasphemies she’d decided described the witch in that moment.

Musty shrew appeared to be a favorite.

The girl glanced up from where she had been polishing a rickety wooden chair and flashed you a smile, glancing each way before rising from her knees and approaching. She reached out and plopped the brush she had been using on the table holding the marble statue head, and plugged a finger into each of its ears.

“I don’t suppose Jesus here will strike me down for my profanity, will he?”

You looked down. Chiseled above its wrinkled forehead was a laurel crown, and you couldn’t recall a Bible passage describing Jesus’ sabbatical in Rome. You blinked at her.

“I’m pretty sure that’s Julius Caesar.”

The blonde glances at the statue again, gray eyes darting over it before she shrugs. “Same difference. If there is a sculpture of Jesus somewhere in this castle, I have no doubt he’s going to receive the same mouthful of feathers you’re forcing on poor Caesar here.”

“Only if Miss Miriam deems it so.” You nodded your head in the skeletal maid’s direction. “Her words are as good as gospel, after all.”

“And yet, each time she speaks, I feel like I’m taking orders from Satan.”

You let out a ghost of a laugh, biting your tongue when your wounds contract and throb.

Her face splits into a smile, and she lets out a short laugh too. Something flits along her face, though, and you get the sense you didn’t hide your pain well enough. The subject is easily danced around; the maid releases her grip on the statue and instead grasps her skirt, lowering into a teasing curtsy. “The name is Robin, milady.” Her eyelashes flutter rapidly and she waggles her fingers in the air, perfectly, in your opinion, mimicking the interactions between royalty that you’ve seen thus far. Haughty, majestic, and filled with intentions barely skin-deep.

You do the same.

She lets your name roll off her tongue a few times, letting it thud against the crisp white walls in her hoarse tone before saying decidedly, “Very fitting.”

Before long, Miss Miriam decides the hallway is clean enough and herds all the maids, the vast majority of them being newcomers like you, out and away into the next wing.

A chill wracks through you when the word “residential” gets passed down the line of one hundred girls, followed by “prince” and “bedroom” and “handsome.” You scan the white, stone columns as you pass, watching them curve into elegant archways shadowed through the frosted windows. This wing is covered in significantly less dust, and a faint scent of roses and pines floats in the air.

You try to flood out the memories, thinking vigorously about the red carpet before you, the soft slap of two hundred clogs, small shuffles and whispers. Everything around you you swallow up whole, eyes wide as though it will help you take in everything and think about nothing. But you cannot avoid it for long; not when you pass by the entrance to the royal throne room, in all its scintillating enormity, golden thrones set with silk, inlaid with gemstones, all wide open spaces.

And hovering above all four was a single, large oil portrait of the living Creel sovereigns.

King Victor, with his light blue eyes caving underneath the lustrous crown, crisp white beard neatly trimmed. His hand hovered over his wife’s shoulder, smile thin and pale.

Queen Virginia, known for her devout faith and kindness, her amber hair falling in ringlets down to her sides. She sat prim and proper on a ruby-cushioned chair, hands folded prettily, eyes dim.

Princess Alice, the spitting image of her mother, bar her father’s eyes and the last twenty years. Second only to her brother in terms of popularity in the kingdom and out, something distinctly complacent set her brows in such a way you knew instantly why she was desirable to royals and dodged by anyone below them.

And then him.

A part of you hadn’t believed Miss Miriam when she’d called him so.

Your Highness.

But as you looked at him now, standing taller than the rest of his blood, proud and ramrod straight, broad shoulders held back by an invisible force, you knew the portraitist had gotten something wrong.

The hair was right; the golden crown of tousled waves, parted neatly and befitting him far more than any scrap of the earth. The lips, pink and pronounced, and the softness of his brow, and, of course, his posture. All perfect.

But it wasn’t Prince Henry. Not quite.

The eyes. Slate blue and cold, cold, cold. How could the artist have not seen that?

Instead, they were warm and too dark a blue. Almost navy, and gentle, and so soft he almost looked like he was frozen in a smile.

No, no. That wasn’t the Prince Henry you had seen.

Where was the darkness? The cruelty? The evil that shadowed every inch of him?

This was some sterilized version of the crown prince, some unattainable, unreliable, utterly purified visage of him being displayed to the kingdoms in pastime.

He radiated divinity, in and out of the portrait. But without that quality of his that effused danger so potently, you could not help but feel the kingdoms were being sold a lie.

The nervous hiss of your name and a strong grip rattling at your wrist spared you from Prince Henry’s trance once more.

Too much power, he had. Too much… something.

“I get it,” Robin whispered, eyes flitting back and forth as the herd marched on, “completely, I understand. But, you cannot just stand and stare at royalty all day. That’s kind of how you…” she gnawed at the inside of her cheek, “you know, got into your situation in the first place. I’d hate to think what Miss Mule would do if she caught you with a Creel of all people.”

You hesitate to tell her that it was, in fact, a Creel that had gotten you in this position. But if Miss Miriam had decided to hide that information from others, you could only guess there was some merit to hiding that you’d thrown your arms around a prince that was already in high demand.

You had wound up committing one of the worst possible treasons with the worst possible man. You supposed it was quite like learning to swim a day prior and diving into a deep lake the very next day—you’d hit rock-bottom, and you’d only just begun.

To think you shouldn’t already be swinging by your neck right now, face blue and tongue swollen, had the head maid hoarded some minute amount of mercy for you.

That, or she’d known your actions had no great impact upon the integrity of the prince’s pursuits—whether it be accidental or otherwise, Miss Miriam viewed yesterday’s nightmare as a tragic attempt to escape your fate, some sick wishing turned to action wherein you wooed the prince and thus he would marry you.

Of all people. You.

You could retch at the thought.

You’d been raised proper, your parents teaching you well about respect, understanding who deserved it and who did not. They had also taught you that people could be born deserving respect, that it was some inherent betterness of their circumstances that, in turn, warranted curtsies and bowed heads.

Which, in your humble opinion, seemed utter tosh, but so be it. For now, you had a head on your shoulders, feasted somewhat regularly, and slept in warmth. Your clothing had not been sewn by your own hands, and your family was receiving enough coins to not worry about your wellbeing.

No matter that they probably should.

Far be it from you to look gift horses in their mouths, but you felt yourself afforded a nice level of circumspection after your back had been torn to ribbons for a mishap over which you had no control.

You didn’t want to marry the prince. You didn’t want to touch him, and you didn’t want to think about him. And, ignoring all the memories of his larger hands, his blue gaze, his golden strands, and how he may haunt you for years to come, you were quite certain you never wanted to see Prince Henry ever again.

Your back twinged in agreement.

The multitude of fluttering pinafores ahead of you slowed their swishing. Clomping clogs eased into a gentle tapping and finally stopped, and the movements were imparted upon the rest of the maids. A smaller form bumped into your back, and you flinched away, spinning and biting back a cry.

A maid a few years younger than you gaped her mouth, innocence and fear mingling in her expression as brown curls fell over her brow. She seemed so much smaller than the others, more unwitting. Your eyes fell to her hand, a clenched fist in the creases of your skirt, as it hesitatingly fell away.

More distanced shuffling disseminated down the corridor, and you watched the assorted heads of hair in front of you split and separate, clinging to either wall, leaving a wide breadth of distance for someone to pass through. Sunlight filtered between the silent shadows of maids and formed a golden glow of a path.

You followed the others and split off to one side, opposite a window, and grasped blindly for Robin’s hand when she didn’t move to follow. A gentle tug at the fabric of your backside conveyed that the other, younger maid had restored her grip.

From your position, the sun blinded you heavily, and you squinted as a yellow shine overtook everything you saw. White spots splattered your vision when you blinked, but you looked past the maids anyway, curiosity jostling its way down the two lines.

“Your Highness.”

So far ahead, you couldn’t see and only heard Miss Miriam and her staunch and clear-cut announcement. That same loyal tone, somewhat saccharine, frayed your nerves in a second.

The prince?

Curtsies flowed like a wave through the maids, and when you bent low, head bowed, Robin and the young maid followed on either side of you, just as gawky. Nobody rose, and, per Miss Miriam’s orders, nobody would rise until the royalty had passed.

But… dear God, wasn’t it an awful affair that you could tell who it was without even looking? That you could feel a quiet sizzle over the rows of women and girls alike, heard the soft, prideful gait of his finely polished boots.

Back in your village, you’d hated how slowly people could walk. How they’d force you to flounder behind them as they puttered, how they could wander one way and then the other, each footstep a guess. Like they had all the time in the world.

You never would have guessed that a fast pace could be just as troubling. Like he couldn’t stand to be in the same corridor with so many servants, Prince Henry was a brisk wind over the ruby carpets. Even so, you could feel the rise and fall of elation, soft gasps partnered with perfectly timed peeks.

He was a sight to behold—that much had been imprinted on your mind. But he couldn’t possibly be as rumpled as he’d been in the depths of the frosty library, hair thoroughly rakish, white tunic clinging to his golden skin. No; royals held a certain standard of propriety, even as they indulged in the most hedonistic of lifestyles. He must be sheathed in some proper velvet tailcoat, and his face must be severe and sharp, slicing along everything he saw.

Breathtaking in an entirely different way, you were sure.

No, you didn’t look. You couldn’t. You can’t.

Not even as his footsteps approach.

You focus your gaze on your swinging braids, watching them refuse to settle against some unknown breeze. A strain forms in your knuckles with how hard you grip your skirt, and your spine throbs with each heartbeat against the tightened back of your uniform.

Prince Henry slows.

The atmosphere tightens around your little grouping of maids, sun soaking into your black clothing so heavily you can barely breathe.  

We must be in front of a door, some corner he needs to turn to. Something.

Some disturbed pulsing blossoms in your gut when he stops just before you, black boots just inches away. Lithe fingers laden with metal rings hover in your vision.

Prince Henry’s too close all over again.

You want to cry out; you want to say nothing and everything. You want to sink into the furthest recesses of your home miles away just as much as you want to stand at the top of a hill and hold your arms out, waiting for it all.  

Your heart is racing—wild, damned little thing. An insufferable hypocrite after all the ways it had condemned him yesterday for what had happened.

Fingertips, gentle and soft as a single breath, rise and brush over your flaming cheekbone.

A tingle of pain jolts through the bruise so suddenly you flinch away, followed by an indifferent grunt that hangs in the air.

No pity in the sound. No remorse. Barely a hint of acknowledgment.

You want to cradle your cheek and press, hard, at the bridge of your nose, will those wobbling tears to stop. His hand hovers again, twitches near, and, when you lean some scant distance away, falls back to his side.

Within that same second, the boots that hadn’t even turned toward you stalk away. Still fast and proud, no more slows and stops. No more grunts.

But, without a doubt, it was Prince Henry. You’d peeked as the other maids had peeked.

You’d done all that they had done, yet you knew that single touch had doomed you.

That must have been his game. A nice bit of teasing for the maid who'd embraced him; let her be thoroughly beaten down to her station. It was some cruel recognition of what happened to you, some silent sanctioning of a proper punishment.  

Servant does a bad thing; servant gets punished by her peer.

Royal approves. No blood on his hands.

You were right, of course. That portrait was missing Prince Henry’s most vital characteristic: Wickedness.

When the maids rise from their curtsies, trembling thighs and huffed breaths, all eyes fall on you. A range of emotions bombard you before you can rub your cheek.

Wonder.

Awe.

Envy.

And—you can only assume from the thundering footsteps—Miss Miriam’s unparalleled rage.

Previous    Masterlist    Next

In the Black Widow’s Nest (Henry Creel x Reader) 🕷️Chapter 1🕷️

*GIF not mine*

Summary: 

Prince Henry of the Creel Dynasty is finally in search of a wife, and in the spirit of courtship, King Victor has invited young royalty from all neighboring kingdoms to vie for his hand. But with so much royalty introduces the need for many more maids in the castle than usual.

Enter: You.

You're nothing but a servant in his home, an intruder in his prized library, and an utter nuisance in his mind. But then you survive his attack, and in an unexpected way nonetheless. That makes you... interesting. 

You've caught his eye---congratulations! Now, you must deal with the consequences of loving a heartless prince in a world where far worse things lurk in the castle than dirty garderobes.

A/N: All i ask is that u imagine henry creel’s evil face on jace wayland’s body that’s it that’s all u gotta do, the fic will do the rest. this may or may not be a series, i do have a few ideas for it (but let it be known begging will not speed up the process). one final comment: henry creel hot. Hope you enjoy!

Word count: 4328

Amongst the cobwebs, the dust, and the black widows, in the abandoned royal library surrounded by the scent of mildew and what once was and is no longer, a pair of eyes watched your every move. Like two frozen fingers poking into the back of your skull, the gaze ran chills down your spine and tightened the muscles in your shoulder blades.

Every move you made was stiff. Despite the season outside being spring, winter had found perpetuity within the four towering walls. There were no windows nor any lit chandeliers; the only light was provided by the brass candlestick that had been forced into your hand before you were thrown into the library, with the promise of being released after ten hours or at the the sight of one hundred spotless, unblemished bookshelves—whichever came first. 

Decidedly, you had three hours left. 

The candle was almost completely diminished to a pool of wax, and the flame on its wick had long weakened and begun flickering. You suspected one last breeze would leave you in complete darkness and at the mercy of whomever was watching you from the shadows. No matter how many times you weaved in and out of the bookshelves that stood at twice your height, five parallel rows of grimy mahogany stacked with fading leather spines, you could not escape the unmistakable feeling. 

This person had not made a sound when they had entered the room. There were no new footsteps tracked in the dust layered on the floor aside from yours, and you had not even heard the twin doors creak open as they had when you entered. You couldn’t hear them over your own breathing and certainly not over the pounding of your heart. 

With every precarious flick of your feather duster over the worn titles, the clouds of your efforts mingled with those of your own exhales. You kept your gaze low, eyes focused on only the task in front of you with the hope—artificial hope—that if you did not disturb them with your own attention, they would eventually remove theirs from you. 

Time trudged by as you shifted from bookshelf to bookshelf, the clogs on your feet scraping the hardwood floors. You kept a wooden chair in tow, collected from one of the tables arranged in the center of the room, and dragged it in closer to the nearest bookshelf, clambering atop the seat and lifting onto your toes to dust the top row of books. The cobwebs were thickest here, spiders having been left to their lonesome far too long and creating their own colony. 

You could barely reach and dusted blindly, allowing the length of the feathers to do most of the work as you ignored the cramps festering throughout your calves. A soft gust of wind floated past and tousled the flyaways at your brow, and as you purse your lips to blow them back and out of your lashes, the room flickered and fell into darkness. 

The candle had finally gone out. 

You squinted and hissed a curse under your breath, your gaze snapping to the outline of the table, where you could barely make out the bowl of wax and nothing more. Just my luck, you thought as you withdrew your feather duster from the bookshelf top. You would have to retrieve a new taper from one of the maids’ closets, though you sincerely doubted the head maid would be all too pleased with your explanation.

Excuses, excuses, you could imagine her barking at you, ire swirling in her small, black eyes. Candles don’t just go out on their own.

“She’ll probably just set my hand on fire and lock me back in here,” you grumbled, huffing as you grabbed the backing of your chair to dismount. A faint tickle on the back of your hand drew your attention. “Hell will freeze over before she—”

Spider.

You yelped, a blasphemy falling from your lips as your clogs slipped on the polished wood seat. Your back hit the ground first, a pained shock shooting from your tailbone up to where your head smacked against the ground with the whiplash of your fall. 

White sparkles lit up your vision, and you sputtered out a cough, not bothering to blink them away. An ache throbbed at your lower back, pulsing at the same wavelength as the ringing in your ears and drawing a groan from your lips. An odd smarting festered up your spine, not unlike a chill. 

Carefully, you slumped back, your head resting against the hard floor and your legs straightening out. You didn’t want to get back up; you didn’t want to move. For a few moments, you let the pain overcome you while you wheezed for breath, choking on the dust that had become unsettled by your fall. It rose and hung in the dark air around you, blurred and wavering with your heartbeat. 

For a few moments, you forgot that someone had been watching you. 

And you certainly didn’t want to know where the spider had wound up. 

The smallest vibration of light footsteps trembled underneath your fingertips, and a sharp pain shot through your skull. Light, blinding and bright and excruciatingly insistent, is all you can see when the vibration stops and some glowing form hinges over you. 

“Not dead,” are the words you think you hear, husked in a monotonous, low gravel and feeding into the loud hum in your head. It’s muffled between the blood pounding in your ears and the hazy confusion that had begun to fog over your mind. 

“Not yet, at least.”

You licked your lips, eyes fluttering closed, then open, then closed again. “What?” you mumbled breathlessly. 

The glowing form dims, gradually painted by an orange hue. When metal thuds on wood, you guess it must be a candle joining your pool of wax on the table, and before long the presence hovers over you again. Tree sap swarms where the scent of mildewed books had been lingering, and, in a cruel twist of fate, you hazard a guess that this is one of the courtiers the head maid had shrilled about avoiding at all costs. 

Or worse—a member of the royal family. 

But how? And why? None of them would ever idle about in a damp, endlessly cold library. The smell bordered on revolting, half of the volumes were wrinkled and illegible, and you couldn’t walk two steps inside without grime caking your face and clothes. Not to mention, the spiders. Disgusting, horrid spiders. 

Black widows, if the head maid was to be believed. 

The wintry library would never be home to festivities of the upper class, not even the occasional unsolicited rendezvous. There were dining rooms and bedrooms and poor, innocent gardens for all the horrific things they did to one another; entire wings dedicated to the sybaritic tendencies of royalty. 

But this man before you—oh, how otherworldly he was. 

You could believe that he had been the one watching you with how his eyes pierced you in this moment, a being such as him the only one capable of having a tangible effect with a single glance. 

You took in his sharp cheekbones, the soft slope of his nose, his slate blue eyes. His face was haloed by mussed, golden hair, and two pale pink lips set against each other as a look of disinterest with ease. His entire appearance, from his lithe figure to the way his eyes dragged over you, exuded a superiority that had been trained to perfection. 

Staring at him felt like drinking a sweet wine, far too indulgent and alluring to ever be truly satiated, and yet you know all too well it would be condemning to keep on as you are. You know this man has a rank heavens above yours; his skin, tanned and unblemished, has never felt the dust and dirt that encompasses you every day, and his body has never held your scars.

In your muddled daze, you imagined barreling headfirst into damnation for acquainting with this handsome being. Whether he be a marquess or a lord or, God forbid, even a duke, being seen in such close quarters with him was strictly forbidden, especially with the royal prince’s season for courting beginning in a week. 

And then you felt yourself spiraling—you imagined him curling over you, his deft fingers sliding underneath your nape, tracing the curve of your scalp and feeling for injury. You imagined his eyes warming pleasantly as he found you safe and unharmed. You imagined he gave a damn. 

But he didn’t. He never would. 

His hands fell to his hips, the loosely fitted, half-unbuttoned white tunic he donned exposing more toned skin while he glowered down at you.

He certainly wasn’t going to wax poetic about your welfare. 

“No blood.” His head tilted to one side slightly, blond tufts of hair following suit. “And thankfully no mess. I’d have hated to invite yet another servant in here, even if it was to drag your body out.”

A shiver tore through your spine, and you had the most horrible feeling that if you died somehow in this moment, no one would bat an eye—especially not the man before you.

His voice had that regal lilt, the one you could have never gained in your small village outside of the castle. You’d only ever heard it on a few of the higher-ranking maids—certainly none of the girls you had been hired with had such accents either—as well as some passing royalty on your first few days of traipsing the castle with a guide. His voice was deep and raspy, as though he spent his days either growling out orders or not speaking at all. You wonder if that was how he found it so easy to watch you mutely.

Feeling entirely too vulnerable, supine as you were, you brace your hands against the floor and writhe your way into a sitting position, head swimming with vertigo. Bile rises in your throat, and you press your eyes closed, tight, waiting out the wave. The idea that dragging your gaze away from him had played a part in the nausea tickles the back of your mind. 

He watches, seeming somewhat interested, as you struggle.

Once, in your small village, a wolf had snuck into the farmer’s fields. You remember watching from your doorway that morning, the sun barely risen, as the wolf tackled a single lamb and began eating it alive. 

The blood coated its paws and muzzle. Bones crackled with the snapping jaws. Even after the lamb had stopped squealing, the hunger in the wolf’s eyes never quite seemed satiated. 

Something in the man’s and the wolf’s gazes made them indistinguishable to you in that moment. 

The cruel sneers and jeering laughs of the royals you’d seen so far could only contain so much antagonism. This man was cut from a different cloth. 

His body, all relaxed muscles and agile limbs, had a vigorous, agitated thing running within the veins of his arms, sleeves rolled to the elbows; the cruelty in his mien was something you had only ever encountered in wild animals. 

Panic chills the sweat on your brow. Laboriously, you wrench one hand on a bookshelf, hoisting yourself up despite the blaring pain climbing up your spine, and onto your feet. You can feel the weakness in your knees the second you try to take another step, the defiant outcry of your mind and body as you try to move, but the man is so close. The warning sirens in your mind wail. 

A hand grapples around your free wrist, insistent and rigid. 

“Stop.”

You flinch, and your first instinct is to twist away and run. His grip is iron-tight, though, and without much resistance, he spins you back to face him. Frantically, your eyes once more swallow up his bronze, toned skin in the shadows of his candle, waiting for a strike. 

In return, the weight of his gaze bows your shoulders, fostering an urge to find a corner and curl up until you can’t anymore. Something you can scarcely identify flickers through his blue eyes. He’s staring at your wrist, locked in his, and then he’s staring at you, his lips tight and his face hard as stone. Like before, you can feel him searching you, taking note of your every move. 

He’s scrutinizing you like a bug, uncertain of just how and in what way to crush you under his heel. It’s the way he had when his gaze was all you knew about him, and you have no trouble imagining yourself splatting underneath his boot. 

But a sound rings in the distance, drawing your attention away from him entirely. 

Ringing. Ringing like church bells. Ringing like the clang of the metal clapper striking tarnished ocher and rust. The kingdom’s clock tower made the same sound. 

A chime, maybe.

Or a knell. 

But you were almost positive that sound couldn’t be heard so far away, crammed deeply within the towering castle walls. Especially at its volume. 

It chimes again, and you slam both hands to your ears, heart pounding. It’s deafening. You can’t breathe, and you can barely see, still tangled up in the man’s eyes. They’ve grown so cold and strike you so much harder your teeth begin to chatter. 

“No,” you whisper, though you’re not quite sure what you’re protesting. “Please.”

His pale lips turn red as he smirks, and every angle of his face sharpens into focus. The room fades into black and white. Musty bindings and rotting pages no longer invade your nostrils. It’s like your brain is shutting off each sense one by one so you can take in more of him. 

And you can’t seem to look away. 

No. 

By the third chime, you can barely feel the pain that had been radiating through your body, and the release is almost blissful. Beckoning. You’re swathed up in the tranquility, ears stuffed with cotton and head buzzing in the silence. When your whole body starts rocking back and forth, waiting for another agonizing chime, your knees begin to feel like rubber, suddenly too malleable to stand upon.

A fourth chime, earsplitting. 

They buckle. 

You snap your hands forward in a panic, yelping when you stumble.

All your senses return as fast as the pinch of a needle. Blood roars in your ears, and soreness floods your every limb. It’s like trying to squeeze into clothes that have become too small and completely ripping the seams—all the sights, the smells, the feelings overload your brain too quickly, causing it to swell and split open. 

Your only lifeline is a radiating source of heat, and you cling to it so hard you're half afraid you might smother it. But when your embrace tightens, so too does your grip on reality. You can almost unscramble your own thoughts again—all the curse words you’ve ever known combined with prayers to the heavens above. Giving yourself into refuge becomes second nature, and you burrow further into the cradle of warmth.

A jolt runs up and down your back, and your skull feels cracked in two. 

But the eerie quiet of the library registers anyway. The chiming is gone. 

Blissful silence remains, only occasionally pierced by your gasping breaths. You want to nuzzle deeper, the warmth firm and solid, as the simmering underneath your skin wanes, yet there seems to be no space left that your form hasn’t already curled into.

“What just happened?” Your voice wavers, and it echoes back so loudly that you flinch. 

You can’t see a thing. The dim outlines of the room fuzz and blend, and if you weren’t standing on your own two feet, you wouldn’t have been able to tell up from down. But the chill still nips at your skin. The library hasn’t changed. Nothing’s changed but you. 

But there’s no explanation for the bell-ringing, the sensory overload. It must have all been in your head; it feels like any second now, your ears are going to pop and reality will flood back in. You’re alive. But whatever had just happened was as close to death as you could have imagined—

A breath away from becoming nothing. 

So what stopped it?

Even more—what started it?

The questions slipped your mind the second you heard the library door creak. The pitiful sound allowed the entrance of sunlight directed by the hallway’s window, and the stiffness of your bones crackled at the thought of even more warmth. You felt half-thawed and left for dead, save for the fount of heat caught in your white-knuckled grasp. 

You went still. 

Heat. 

Heat in the library. 

That had to have been one of the most preposterous realities you had imagined since you had first stepped foot in here seven hours ago—and you had raked through your mental fantasies quite thoroughly in that time. 

Carefully, as though jaws might snap at you from the darkness, you withdrew your arms from the motionless frame and craned your head upward. 

Dear God. 

The man was even more beautiful when washed in distant sunlight. Heart-wrenchingly so. More alluring when his hair glowed golden, combed back waves ending neatly at his nape. More potent when his gaze speared yours, his arms limp at his sides, elbows brushing the backs of your hands at his waist. 

Terribly heady.

Five seconds passed before you caught on to your ill deed, and his white tunic fluttered from the speed at which you pulled away from him. When his slender fingers twitched in tandem, you could only assume that, had you waited another second, he would have grasped your wrists so tightly the bones would have snapped. 

How could you? Oh God, this was it. It’s all over. 

You’re seized under his watchful eye, his face washed over with rage, or vexation, or downright disgust at your entirely-too-close, worthy-of-execution contact. 

Certainly, it could not be the wonder you had initially thought it was. 

That was just not possible. 

Impossible. 

Maybe. 

“YN!” 

You jump when the library’s twin doors slammed open, a crotchety, accented voice rattling against the shelves. The clomping of two clogs no different than yours—though, possibly better polished—thunder towards the pair of you, located by your and his candlesticks, stained brass and glossy gold sitting side by side on the oak center table. 

The head maid—Miss Miriam Swinebottom, which, in your humble opinion, was evidence that fate did in fact understand the concept of justice—was a woman of an angular, acidic countenance. Two beady eyes sunk deep into her skull like snakes nestled within a tumbleweed, and she had the capacity for two emotions: disappointment and fury. With a distaste for all things insouciant, the skeletal woman wielded the newly hired maids like an army of rats; she sent all of you scuttling over every inch of the castle and cleaning until your bodies were slow and stiff as though submerged in deep water. 

And you had no doubt that, the second that gaze fell upon you, she was out for blood. The terror that began pulsing in every nerve was no different than when you had first noticed the foreboding air around the blond man. You were not going to get out of this without a scratch. 

Miss Miriam took in you first, but not for long. Soon enough, both of you, as one incriminating sight, were being ascertained. 

You knew what she saw. 

One of her new maids, no better than the grime beneath her shoe, inches away from a royal. 

Unseasoned in the ways of the castle, naive to the new problem you’ve just sprouted, a true simpleton for what you’ve done. You. 

You, with unsteady eyes and flushed cheeks, his shirt unbuttoned, blond hair tousled. 

Fresh meat. 

Dead meat. 

And you hadn’t even done anything. 

You stumble back another step and hesitate to make an excuse. Words, you’d learned, were no better than handing Miss Miriam a switch. Best stay silent and pray for mercy.

Or, rather, for a quick recovery. 

Curiosity slips out of your hands, and you sneak a glance at the man. 

He’s wicked all over again. Somewhat unimpressed by the turn of events, he appears, but the emotion mingles with a strong sense of antagonism no nobility can seem to restrain. You’re only half-glad looks can’t kill. Miss Miriam would be worse off than six feet deep by now. 

To your surprise, she does not snatch you away with promises of a beating. She doesn’t get a step closer. 

Instead, the head maid folds into a low curtsy, then rises back up, bowing her head. “Your Highness.”

You tense at her actions, mind falling blank. 

No. He couldn’t be. 

Your Highness? Your Highness?

But as his gaze trails away from her and back to you, his face abruptly void, you can only stagger back another step, knees giving way into a curtsy as you copy Miss Miriam.

Waiting.

He is.

His Royal Highness, Crown Prince of the Creel Dynasty.

And here you had been, none the wiser, completely ignorant to the danger you’d just placed yourself in. 

For a long, excruciating moment, nothing happens. He does not touch you, nor does he move. The only sound filling the room is bated breath and whispering winds. 

Prince Henry. The prized catch of all the kingdoms. Aristocracy who’d never even scoff at a servant like you were here to court him. 

And you’d been so close—you could still feel the ghost of his warmth under your fingertips. 

A huff perks your ears, but you bite your tongue, waiting. He moves, one slow footstep at a time, nearing you with his polished, leather boots. You watch them as they grow closer. 

You watch them as they hesitate in front of you.

And then you watch them as they pass, each thump of leather against hardwood further and further away until there’s no doubt he has left the library. 

The older maid hitches a second longer before she rises, spitting your name like bile. “YN.” Her footsteps thunder toward you, and you barely have time to straighten before she has an iron grip on your upper arm, hauling you out of the room. 

“You had such a simple task. Clean the library and get out.” She grits her teeth, eyes flaring. “No one has used it in a decade, and yet what do I find but a dusty library and you. You, whoring yourself around the prince. And you said you weren’t a wench before I hired you.”

  She leads you down the castle’s marble hallways, dim from the setting sun yet well-lit by the sconces lining the walls. No matter how much you stumble and grunt, she drags you after her into the servants’ wing, swiftly finding the maids’ hall and barging you through the doorway. 

The room falls silent when the door slams shut, and while no crowd gathers, you are certainly the center of attention to the maids awaiting attending dinner. Stomachs are rumbling, but you have no doubt they would rather feast their eyes on this spectacle first. 

Tears pinch at the bridge of your nose. You can’t cry; you didn’t want to be one of the maids that cried. Those that did were in the latter half of the new hires who were younger than you. And you weren’t a little girl anymore. 

No crying. 

But, oh, you were scared when Miss Miriam paraded you in front of the others, hissing warnings and threats of punishment for girls who did what you had done. 

“-traipsing herself around in front of a most respected royal.” Black, burning eyes latch back onto you. “Tell me, YN, what did you think would happen?”

You flinch. 

There’s no point in looking to others for help. You don’t know them well enough to have friends. It’s been three days, and only one name has stuck. 

But you know it’s a sea of pity, disappointment, and nervous movement flowing back and forth. 

“It,” your voice cracks, and you pause, blinking rapidly. Another older maid, same regal accent, same strict demeanor, same gaze hissing you deserve this you deserve this you deserve this, approaches from behind. “It was an accident—”

You reel back into her waiting arms with a yelp. A stinging burn lances at your cheek, and if you hadn’t seen Miss Miriam’s bony hand fall back to her side, you would have thought she’d slashed open your cheek with an average kitchen knife. 

A seasoned backhand. Was there anything worse?

Miss Miriam stepped back, her appearance leaning more towards irate than strictly furious. She turned away from you, searching the walls of the dormitory. Though you had never seen it before, it hung on the wall with a single nail and a small, looped string on the handle.

A riding crop, yet you had the distinct feeling it had never been used on horses before. 

“No,” you plead when swift fingers begin untying your garment backing. “Please, it—it was an accident!” You try to yank away, but the crop swings at your head. When you lurch back, the fingers resume and Miss Miriam simply tilts her head. 

Dread claws up your throat. The edges of your vision begin contracting with your heart beat, while a shrill voice in your head begins screaming to run, to get out, to escape. Cold air assaults your bare back, and when you feel the tears begin to fall, the maid spins you around, presenting the stripped canvas of flesh to the others. 

“Let this be a lesson to you all, girls,” Miss Miriam announces. “This is not a whorehouse. You are not here to prostitute yourselves to royalty. You will not even look at them.” Her voice directs towards you, “They will certainly not look at you.”

You scream when the crop comes down, the white walls blurring, and the skin of your back wails at the betrayal. 

The tears don’t stop for hours.

Masterlist    Next

Stranger Things Masterlist

☔ = Angst

🌦️ = Angst to Fluff

💥 = Crack

☀️ = Fluff

💋 = Smut

🖤 = Yandere

🔔 = Request

🟪Imagines🟪

Henry Creel/001: 

■  In the Black Widow’s Nest 🖤 🌦️ (eventual/slight 💋)

Medieval AU; Series (Ongoing)

Prince Henry of the Creel Dynasty is finally in search of a wife, and in the spirit of courtship, King Victor has invited young royalty from all neighboring kingdoms to vie for his hand. But with so much royalty introduces the need for many more maids in the castle than usual.

Enter: You.

You're nothing but a servant in his home, an intruder in his prized library, and an utter nuisance in his mind. But then you survive his attack, and in an unexpected way nonetheless. That makes you... interesting.

You've caught his eye—congratulations! Now, you must deal with the consequences of loving a heartless prince in a world where far worse things lurk in the castle than dirty garderobes.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

🟣Headcanons🟣

He Accidentally Overhears You Have Feelings for Him (Billy) 🌦️ 🔔

He Has a Nightmare About You (Billy, Steve) 🌦️

Hi! Already told ya but I really liked you ST headcanon❤️ could you make one with Billy (+ any other stranger things boys you want to add) about them accidentally hearing that y/n has feelings for them? It’s too cliched but such fluffy fluff is my air:>

He Accidentally Overhears You Have Feelings for Him (Stranger Things Headcanons)

*GIF not mine*

A/N: yeah so this took me like a month but also guess what i had to bullet point every single goddamned mfing line in this post by hand bc of tumblr's new formatting or whatever, and then i posted it on the wrong goddamn request so i had to do it twice so ig we all got probs kill me. Anyways, i kinda went overboard on this prompt bc i love billy so naturally no one else made it into the hc🤷‍♀️ what a shame👀 Enjoy!

Word count: 4856

Billy Hargrove: 

“I don’t like him.” 

Billy’s eyes fluttered open, and they glided lazily onto your form in the desk in front of him. With his hands folded behind his head and his legs crossed, feet perched on his own desktop, Billy knew the teacher had long ago given up on scolding him for his lackadaisical behavior in class, and even longer ago had he realized Billy would never put much effort in anyway. 

One such happenstance that seemed to disturb the entire class, though, was how Billy had wound up there in the first place. Honors English didn’t exactly seem tailored to his, er, capabilities, to put it lightly. 

However, before Billy and his family had moved to Hawkins, Indiana, he’d been quite the student (according to the principal…after you’d complained), and lost in translation was some other lame excuse that English classes in California were inherently more advanced than those of Indiana anyway. 

You called bullshit. You had sworn Billy had bribed the teacher to let him remain in the class just to disrupt your existence. 

It wasn’t exactly his crowd, so to speak, judging by the glasses, focused faces, and pencils scribbling around the room. Nobody in the room looked like they’d even smelled a cigarette before—well, not until Billy arrived.

But you? God, you fit in like a glove. Here was where you divided yourself from the rest of the school, from its bullies and booze and tobacco—from its corruption. You were innocent when it came to such “paraphernalia,” as you called it. You were untouched, and more importantly, you were unclaimed. 

Billy was enthralled with this virtuous disposition of yours. In the beginning, his feelings for you,“little Miss Priss” as he’d grown to calling you, appalled him. Of all the girls in the school he could choose from, all the hot blondes that fawned over him in the halls and the enticing brunettes that asked him out after catching his eye for a moment, never did he think for a fucking second that it would be you. 

The prude. 

“Don’t like who?” Billy interjected harshly, dismissing how you and your friend flinched at his sudden interest. 

“No one!” you both mumbled, avoiding his gaze and spinning around in your seats. 

Billy’s brow rose at that, and the instant the bell rang, he kicked his feet off his desk and reached a hand toward you. You scooted forward in your seat the second his fingers brushed you, and Billy paused, a small ache in his chest disguising itself as irritation. 

Clenching his jaw, Billy curled his fingers around the back of your desk chair and dragged you back to him, the rubber stoppers on the ends of your chair legs squealing in protest against the polished floors. The teacher glanced up from his podium at the front of the class at the sound, an unimpressed look on his face, but was otherwise unconcerned about the situation unfolding. After all, it happened almost every morning. 

The teacher sighed and resumed calling roll. Billy kept one fist clasped around the back of your chair and one long leg outstretched beneath your seat, his boot situated around the nearest footing to stop you from scooting away. He leaned forward, hot breath rustling your hair as you sat stock-still, hands folded in your lap. 

“YN-”

You flinched. 

“-who were you talking about?” Though it was a question, he more demanded the answer than asked for it, because Billy would be damned if he had to listen to you and your friend giggle and jabber about your feelings for any guy that wasn’t him. 

Just the thought of another boy in the class catching your eye in general made him feel angry. 

No, maybe not angry. Sick was more like it. You weren’t his, and he knew that—fuck, he knew that all too well. He wouldn’t let it be that way for long, though. 

For months he’d tried to take his mind off you and place it, force it, on someone else. But when girls at parties and in his car, in hotel rooms or in their own goddamn bedrooms couldn’t eliminate the picture of you hot-glued to the forefront of his mind—couldn’t erase your secret smile when Billy had Sharpied a dick on Mr. Morrison’s board, or your glare when he’d tugged your seat over to his for the first time, or that feeling of your hand overtop his when he’d tugged on your hair to distract you, to bring your attention back onto him—Billy knew he had to give up on getting over you. 

He’d finally accepted that his only course of action was to keep your eyes on him just as his were locked on you. It was only fair. 

“Nobody,” you huffed under your breath. “Why do you even care?”

The tension on Billy’s face softened, relaxed as he looked over your form appreciatively, licking his lower lip. ‘Heres’ and ‘Presents’ resounded about the pair of you as Billy released his grip on your seat’s backing, settling the same arm on his desk and reaching up a hand to twirl a strand of your hair around his finger. “Oh, no reason, babe, just making sure I’m still in your good graces is all.”

You scoffed and twisted in your seat, yanking his hand from your hair with a grip on his wrist. “Were you ever?”

Billy held your gaze while simultaneously imploring to whatever asshole wandered around in the sky that you would never release your hold on him, and he allowed his lips to curl up into a real smile. So long he went without ever letting that happen, and then you showed up and now he never wanted to stop. 

Just as Billy reached up to brush a strand of hair from your forehead, the teacher reared his ugly, bald, fucking bastard head. 

“YN, Billy,” Mr. Morrison called aloud, his tone on the latter’s name far more irritated, and, of course, you sat at attention, turning away from Billy and tearing your hand away from his wrist. “Pay attention, please.”

“Sorry, sir.”

And just like that, you slipped from his grasp. You ignored Billy’s every poking and prodding of his pencil in your back for the rest of class and focused rather on whatever the hell Morrison was on about, curled over your notebook with your head ducked low.

It was only when Billy sighed and sat back in his seat with crossed arms, chest tight, that he realized your friend was watching from the corner of her eye with a small grin. 

Until Billy flipped her the bird, then she scoffed and looked away too. 

By the end of class, Billy’s head was dropped back, mouth open and releasing soft snores. The bell ringing didn’t wake him; what did was your courteous kick to his foot in order for him to release your chair, which he did, so you could push your seat in. Then you smacked his forehead with your notebook for good measure. “Wake up, asshole, class is over.”

He grunted, swatting away the offender. “You’re so kind to me, babe,” he grumbled bitterly. “What would I do without you?”

“Considering you spend every waking minute in this class annoying me, I truly, honestly don’t know.”

Billy smirked at that, gaze latched onto your form as you walked away side-by-side with your friend, whom you seemed to be shaking your head at. Sluggishly and with a yawn, he rose to his feet, lugging his bag over his shoulder and following your path out of the classroom. 

He lingered behind a few steps, stopping only to lean against a water fountain and pull a pack of Marlboros from his back jean pocket. He swiped the cigarette across his bottom lip before slotting it in the corner of his mouth and reaching for his lighter. 

“That’s not what this is,” you groaned, fiddling with the combination of your locker. 

Your friend hummed sarcastically, a mocking “Totally” on her lips from Billy’s distance away. He could barely hear the two of you, especially through the thick crowd of students flooding the halls, rushing to their cars and buses to get the hell out of school. 

Of course, you were lagging behind to study in the library, and, of course, Billy would be there to bother you for the next half hour before “suddenly remembering” he had a date.

Fuck, he hated it. He hated himself, and how easily you wound him around your little finger. He used to wish you were cruel; some cold-blooded bitch to him so it would be so much easier to dismiss his feelings and walk away. Instead, you were kind. The only fucking person who could battle back against his attitude and yet still care about his wellbeing. How many times had you tugged a cigarette from his mouth with a small, disapproving grumble, or silently placed a water bottle on his desk when he’d enter the classroom reeling from the effects of the night before?

He'd never met anyone that was too good for him. Not since…

Fuck. He hated this.

How? How did you have that power over him? When did you ever have time to wrench your hand into his chest, break past his ribcage and grab a fistfull of his heart just to steal it out and shake it in front of him like some cruel game of fetch?

“Goddamnit,” he huffed, eyes narrowed at his lighter that sparked fruitlessly. One last click, though, and a flame bloomed in his hand. 

“I swear it’s not! The guy’s an asshole. You know my grade is actually dropping in that class?” You slammed your locker closed, armfuls of textbooks hugged to your chest. “It’s because of him. Pretty soon, I’ll have an A-minus. Do you know how long it’s been since I've had an A-minus in a class?”

“Not as long as you haven’t had a D.” 

You blanched, whole body flinching like you took a punch to the gut. “I-... you-... that was totally uncalled for.” Your friend snickered. 

Billy, meanwhile, had grown infinitely more interested in the conversation, so much so that he had almost coughed out the smoke in his lungs. His eyebrows raised as he watched a flush rise to your cheeks. 

“You’re disgusting, you know that?” You pointed at her disapprovingly, but she only laughed more boisterously. 

“Oh, come on! Am I wrong?”

“Who cares about my…” you gestured at yourself wordlessly, floundering, “e-experience level? You really think that asshole is gonna solve that?”

“Easily.” 

You threw your arms in the air hopelessly at your friend’s deadpan, rolling your eyes. “No! Not happening! The only possible outcome is a newfound exposure to STDs.”

“Worth it.” Her hands snapped up in surrender at your glare. “Kidding. Just kidding.”

Slowly but steadily, the halls were clearing. Billy didn’t bother trying to disguise his watchful gaze as he inhaled another cloud of smoke, pulling the cigarette from his lips to tap the ashes out in the water fountain behind him. He let out the fumes in one long stream as he leaned a hip against the metal edge of the fountain, settling his other hand into a front pocket on his blue jeans. 

Billy waited, as he always did, like a predator ready to swoop in on his prey the second it was alone. Two blue eyes stay cemented on your form like a promise, a pledge of devotion. It was the yearning from afar that pained him the most, certainly because what excuse could he ever fabricate to explain himself? You hadn’t called his name—-your gaze hadn’t even accidently washed over him. You’d done nothing to gain his attention. You had done nothing but be, and for that, Billy was undeniably, absolutely addicted. 

He needed you.

Billy massaged two fingers at his temple, taking another drag with half-lidded eyes. 

“You better be.” You sighed, slamming your locker closed and clenching the straps of your backpack in your hands. “The day I actually throw myself into the arms of that aggravating jerk is the day I toss all of my self-respect in the trash.”

It’s me. It has to be.

She’s talking about-

“He’s not that bad if you think about it. Even you yourself said-”

“I know what I said,” you floundered, shoving a finger against her lips. “But—you know what—if we both ignore that I ever said it, then maybe, just maybe, my feelings will fade away, and we can both look back at my confession one day and laugh.” You pull your hand away from her, posing your hands on your hips righteously. “Laugh while knowing that my feelings for him were ridiculous and dumb and stupid and childish, and that I was just acting like a regular teenager with a little, stupid crush on some dumb boy-”

“You’re in love with Billy, aren’t you?” your friend deadpanned. 

Your face fell, and you pouted. “Yeah, fine, you’re right, I’ve got it bad.” 

-Me.

The cigarette fell from his lips, landing on the floor soundlessly. Billy stood at attention, his hand falling out of his pocket as the other dropped from his head. Love. YN is-

She’s in love with me.

All color in his cheeks disappeared, just as all the air in his chest. He couldn’t breathe, but in a good way, like the burn of surfacing from underwater for too long—like he was seconds away from the first gasp of fresh, sweet oxygen, after suffocating for so long.

He wanted this—fuck, he needed this. Who gave a damn if he deserved it or not, he was going to have you. You and the warmth of your hands; your smile and your laugh, all of your blushes and your tears.

All of it. Every single last ounce, he wanted it all.

He could fucking have it, too. 

She’s in love with me. 

Your friend grinned all too smugly. “You’re finally admitting it out loud, huh? Look at you, growing up right before my eyes. How does it feel?”

“How does what feel?” you grumbled, still curled in on yourself, cheeks dusted pink.

“Your first real love confession to a boy.” She dropped both of her hands on your shoulders as your brows furrowed. 

“Does it really count if he’s not even here?”

“Nope,” she beamed, spinning you around in her grip. “Good thing he is!”

For a moment longer, you were still visibly confused at her words. The halls had long cleared, and the only sights and noises that now filled them were your wide eyes and quick gasp. 

“Billy.” His name slipped from your lips like an accident, tumbling out without a second thought and landing in the allconsuming silence of the hallway with a dull thud. 

He couldn't help it. God, he couldn’t fucking help it. 

The trembling that took hold of him, the shiver that began in the tips of his fingers and transferred up the length of his spine—he hated it because he had to hate it, but deep down he loved it more than anything else.

Because you were just so fucking perfect. 

Your eyes were glassy, like any second you were going to burst into tears. There was a small quiver of your lower lip, and, like a tidal wave, the overwhelming urge to feel that same quiver against his own lips, his skin, crashed into him. 

He really, really couldn’t help it. It was second nature. 

A corner of his mouth lifted, and his eyes glinted with condescension. “Is that right?” he hummed, amused. “Are you in love with me, YN?”

The pounding in his chest, the pregnant pause as he waited, the subtle, dizzying fog that began to flood his mind, all of it he ignored. He had to hear it. Say it again.

But he couldn’t help it, and the more your glistening eyes studied his face, tears threatening to overflow at the waterline, the more he could feel that sweet burn in his lungs turn painful once more. 

And it hurt so much worse when you twisted out of your friend’s hold and bolted. 

Your tennis shoes squeaked in protest against the vinyl composition tile, down the hallway and clear through the glass doors of Hawkins High, never turning back no matter how many times your friend called your name. 

When the doors slammed shut, a gust of wind followed and ruffled the stray curl against Billy’s forehead. The smirk had long fallen from his face. 

Your friend bit the inside of her cheek beside him, obviously searching for words of any kind to explain your reaction. “She’s just-… well, you kind of…” She huffed, adjusting her backpack straps against her shoulders. “Look, she’ll be back on Monday. She wouldn’t skip school, even out of embarrassment like that.” She threw him a sidelong glance. “Though, maybe next time you don’t respond like that, right?”

Billy’s face hardened, and he pulled the pack of cigarettes from his back pocket. He slotted a smoke in the corner of his lips. “Who gives a shit?” 

Your friend pursed her lips, observing as he struggled once more with his lighter. He gripped it with white knuckles, and the butt of his cigarette was crushed between his teeth. “Right,” she nodded with a sigh. “See you Monday.” Her footsteps trailed down the hall and away.

When the doors shut after her too, Billy spat out the smoke, hurling his lighter down the hallway with bared teeth. “FUCK!”

Monday. Fucking Monday?

Billy wrenched two hands in his hair, his nostrils flaring as he gnawed on his lips. It hurt, it all fucking hurt. Everything. 

She left, she fucking left. She ran away from you, and you know why too—it’s because you’re so weak. Why the hell would she ever want to be with someone like you? How could she ever be in love with-

Billy paused, his hands falling from his scalp, his shoulders rolling back. His head raised, slowly. 

Fine, you could have until Monday. But on that day, he was getting some fucking answers. 

The weekend didn’t pass by quick enough, despite Billy not remembering most of it. He recalled the party he attended that Friday night, the keg and the shots and what must have been some girl trying her best to come onto him. He remembered shoving her off one minute with a snarl and thundering towards his car, and then the next he was waking up in his own bed. He remembered working out and drinking Saturday and Sunday away, and he remembered waking up Monday with a healing bruise on his cheek, his father none too impressed that he’d drunk all the beer in the house in the span of two days. 

But who fucking cared, right?

Who gave a shit when his Camaro came squealing into the school parking lot, stopped parallel between three spots? Who gave a shit when he ambled Hawkins High halfway through the school day, his shirt unbuttoned down his chest, his cologne wafting after him everywhere he went?

And who gave a shit when he arrived in Mr. Morrison’s class, early for the first time in the six months he’d been in it, and planted himself in his seat, his legs kicked up on his desk, his arms folded up behind his head, blue eyes carefully watching the doorway. 

Because, yeah, you’d ran away from him. But you’ve been doing that for so long now, dancing out of his reach each time he wanted you, twisting out of his grip each time he almost had you. This was the first time you’d ever escaped him knowingly. 

Finally, he knew you loved him, and once more you got away. 

Of course, your little game of cat and mouse had to end like this—it had to end with him catching you. 

And catch you he did. 

God, you were so fucking beautiful, it actually made him ache. Your friend was shoving you in through the classroom door, two hands braced against your back despite you trying to wriggle away like a loose fish. 

Your face was red, completely, utterly red, like you’d just come back from running a marathon. Your eyes were darting around frantically, from the desks to the ceiling, and he knew you were actually considering your chances of escaping through an air vent. 

She’s in love with me.

He didn’t care. Suddenly, at the sight of you, he just didn’t fucking care anymore. He didn’t care that you ran, about the turmoil you’d caused him, about the misery that had been his weekend away from you. 

He couldn’t care for anything less because the second your eyes landed on him in that classroom and you let out the softest little squeal, all he knew was you, you, you.

So fucking cute.

Billy kicked his feet off his desk, reaching forward and pulling out your chair before patting the seat backing suggestively. Like clockwork, his smirk reformed on his face, a small glimmer of patronizing amusement in his eyes. 

“Come on, babe,” he simpered at you. “Don’t be shy. Take a seat.”

Come back to me. I need you.

Your eyes widened, and you squirmed in her grip once more. “Nope, I can’t do this.”

“Hush up and go.” One big shove from your friend and you were stumbling forward, scrambling to regain your balance. 

Billy silently urged you closer, gesturing down at your seat with his hands the closer you shuffled toward him. As he did, he drank in the sight of you, flushed and skittish, stumbling toward him like a baby deer on new, unsteady legs. He noticed the darkened skin under your eyes, most likely matching his own, though he doubted you and him were sleepless for the same reasons. 

When you ground to a halt in front of him, you gulped, your attention everywhere but on his face. 

“Hey, YN,” he practically purred, hands itching to reach out to you. 

“Hello, Billy,” you squeaked, dropping into your seat and gripping the bottom in an effort to slide the chair forward. Very quickly, though, you discovered Billy’s boot was already perched around the chair’s footing, and one hand had an iron grip on its back. 

“Going somewhere?”

“I guess not.”

Billy hummed. “I think you have something to say to me.”

“Umm nope, don’t think so.”

“Oh, come on, no need to be shy. I just wanna hear you say it,” he prompted, as his other hand glided up, curling a strand of your hair around his finger. “Tell me how you feel about me, YN.”

“I think you’re a jerk,” you whispered, turning back slightly to fix him with a flimsy glare. 

“Besides that. Tell me what you told me Friday, before you ran.” He tugged at the strand of hair, his brows raised expectantly. 

“I didn’t mean it-”

“Don’t-” Billy gritted his teeth, his hand leaving your hair to grip your chin, turning you to face him. “Don’t say that.” He watched as your eyes grew damp again, all soft and delicate and one small admonition away from bursting into tears. 

You were so fragile, so small in his eyes. It often made him wonder why he ever thought he should be the one you should be with. How could he ever hold you in his arms without tarnishing you?

So badly, he thought he wanted to have you just to dirty you, take away that purity that seemed to hover over your head, but there were some days where he knew that all he wanted from you was to make him believe he could hold on to something so clean.

He wanted it. So, so bad, he wanted whatever you would offer him. He wanted to hear those words straight from your lips. 

Your cheeks were so hot, he itched to cradle them in his palms and absorb some of that warmth. He wanted to wipe away all of the tentativeness with the pads of his fingers and leave behind the breathlessness, the pure affection that was its source. 

“You just want to laugh at me,” you whispered, your voice almost breaking. “You’re just going to tease me about it like you do with everything else.” You swept a hand underneath your eyes. “You’re so cruel, Billy.”

“Stop-” he hissed and shook his head, gritting his teeth. “You don’t get to say that. Not after all I’ve ever wanted is for you to love me back, you don’t get to fucking say that.” Billy seized your wrist, tugging you closer. “I know what I am. I know what I do.”

His pride was wilting away the more he spoke to you, the longer you didn’t pull away from him, and his mind pounded in indignation. At what point did you turn him into a complete lovesick fool, and was it before or after you first smiled at him?

If your wide-eyed look was any indication of your shock at his feelings, he wondered just how baffled you would be once you discovered his willingness to bend over backwards at your every plea. You would never take advantage of him, and he knew that, but the tendrils of doubt still crawled up his spine at the thought of leaving himself so vulnerable for you. 

 “But you, YN?” He traced his eyes over your face, huffing softly. “In all my life, I’ve never wanted something more.”

You stared at him, open mouthed. Your gaze was so surprised, so innocent that it actually frustrated him. How could you have not seen? How could you be so blind?

“So don’t you fucking say that it’s cruel of me, or selfish, or some other bullshit.”

You gasped when he tugged you closer by the wrist, his other hand encompassing your cheek. 

“Just say it again.”

His eyes darted over your face, desperate.

“Please.”

Your eyebrows twitched up at that, and your gaze grew tender, raking over his face slowly as if committing to memory. You paused at his lips, watching as they parted and pursed against one another. 

You’d worn him down. You’d exhausted him, mentally and physically. Of all the months he’d waited for your confession like this, he never thought the last few moments would be the most excruciating of them all. What more did you want from him? Already, he could feel the swell of anger at his throat ready to be unleashed, to lash out at you until you were in steady tears again just so he knew exactly what you were feeling once more. Billy wanted—no, needed—some part of you to be under his thumb, just so he could pretend, if even for a second, that your emotions for him were still in his range of sway.

Instead, his heart stuttered when the hand in his grip wormed away and pulled off the other that was at your cheek. You splayed his hand out on the surface of his desk, then you intertwined your fingers with his and squeezed. Your teeth worried at your bottom lip as you ducked your head. 

“I’m in love with you, Billy.”

His eyelids fluttered shut, and he breathed a sigh of relief. 

Finally. Fucking Finally.

You were his, completely. 

He couldn’t help it. He really couldn’t.

His hand found your chin, and he tipped your head up, gaining your attention.

“I fucking knew it,” he simpered, entirely too smug. And when you tried to scramble away, panicked and scared, his hand found the back of your neck and tugged you close, his lips landing on yours. 

In his hold, you grew lax, only your hand tensing around his. Your lips didn’t move against his, seemingly too tentative and inexperienced to truly indulge yourself.

Billy grinned into the kiss, far more pleased than anyone should be at the knowledge that he could leave marks on you in so many more ways than one. When he pulled away, he quickly cupped your face with a hand, thumbing at your lips in search of the remainder of his own warmth. 

“Library, after school?” he muttered, his mouth still curved.

“Only if you don’t have a date afterwards,” you grumbled. You could sass him all you wanted, and Billy couldn’t care less. He could hear your breathlessness and feel the heat in your cheeks, and pride flared in him knowingly. 

“Well, I might-”

“Are you guys done yet? ’Cause that was kinda gross.” Your friend dropped into the seat beside you, her nose wrinkled. You straightened up, unraveling yourself from Billy’s hold and nodding your head.

“Yep, yeah, definitely all done. Totally.” 

And just like that, you were gone. Billy bristled at your instantaneous lack of touch and threw a snarl at your friend, who only shrugged. 

Then she held out a hand, brows raised expectantly. 

“You owe me.”

Billy rolled his eyes, fishing his wallet out of the pocket of his jeans and rifling through it, passing her a ten dollar bill. 

“Keep the change.”

“With pleasure.”

He Has a Nightmare About You (Stranger Things Headcanons)

*GIFs not mine*

A/N: started watching this show for momma Steve, stayed for the other, also hot characters. Don’t judge me if a vecna version of this comes out soon👀 Enjoy!

Billy Hargrove:

He dreams of you often, but never quite like this.

You’re in his arms; his lips are on yours, and your hands are in his hair. 

When he pulls away, it’s to brush a strand back from your face, pushing it behind your ear while gazing into your eyes. A smile is on his face, inherently small and lopsided, but genuine. 

It’s one of those times where he can’t believe how happy you make him, how much he loves you. You turn him into a teenage boy with a puppy crush all over again, but as long as no one else is around, he doesn't mind that one bit. Vulnerability did not come easy to him, but with you, he’d tear down every wall he’d ever put up just to get closer to you. Just to hold onto you that much longer. 

“Billy…” you hum, your hands coming up to cover his own along your cheeks. He feels infinitely warmer, more relaxed at your touch, and he leans that much closer to you. 

“YN…” Billy drawls back teasingly, blue eyes soft and expectant on yours. Your breath ghosts over his lips, and fuck if he didn’t hate that you made a shiver roll down his spine. 

“I hate you.”

His smile falters. “What?”

You tug his hands off your face, leading them to drop to his sides before stepping back. You shake your head. “I hate you, Billy.” 

Billy’s body grows cold. His lips part as he searches for words, eyes raking over your face for any hint of jest. “This isn’t funny, YN.” He lets out a breathless laugh, but it’s dull and fake and trying to draw some sort of usual response from you. 

“It’s not supposed to be. I’m serious, Billy.” 

His nostrils flare, and he wants to be angry. He wants to grab you and pull you back into his chest and make you wish you’d never said those words, make you wish you never hurt him, make you promise that you’d never hurt him like this again. 

You said that once, that you’d never hurt him like he has been before. You promised.

He bites into his bottom lip, willing a level of restraint, or rather, indifference. 

She promised.

Time moved slowly the second you pulled away from him. Carefully, your arms came up to cross over one another at your chest. Your eyes hardened, not angry or frustrated, but certainly more serious and intentional from when you had said his name earlier. 

He’d never seen you so cold—not at him. 

“What changed?” The words slipped from his lips, but the second they did, he didn’t bother fighting to take them back. He felt trapped in his own skin, unable to escape the anger, the hatred, the i that coursed through veins. “Why now, I mean, after-” he cut himself off with a scoff, bitterly licking his lips, “-after fucking everything we’ve been through together, you just, what, hate me?”

He hated it, this. He hated you, and he’d never done that before. Even the thought of his betrayal being directed toward you made him feel sick. She promised.

Billy looked away, wrenching a hand through his hair and not bearing to stare at you when he spoke. “You- God,” the corners of his eyes pricked, “you said you loved me. What happened to that?” He glanced at you, hating, hating, hating that you were making him feel this fucking way. Throat tightening, he barked out, “What fucking happened to that?!”

“I don’t love you, Billy,” you muttered, seemingly unaffected by his display of emotions. “I could never.”

And you saw it. He knew you saw it. He knew you saw it because he wiped it away, and your eyes had followed his hand as he had. 

He was crying. Goddammit, he was so fucking weak. 

Despite it all, despite every single horrible moment in his life, he never knew the feeling of true despair until you were taking your love for him back and saying it wasn’t real. 

“Billy, come on.” Your tone was persuasive, placating like you were trying to reason with him. You were talking to him as though you were telling a child that Santa or the Easter Bunny wasn’t real, that they never were, and they never will be. 

You used that same soothing, calming tone the first time you tried to convince Billy that you did love him. He remembered your exact words. “I love you, and no matter how much you fight me on it, I won’t let you take that away from me.” You had been caressing a fresh bruise on his cheek, and the kiss you had left there had overpowered the pain of his father’s wound. 

“Don’t,” Billy mumbled. “Stop.”

Don’t corrupt that voice, he pleaded, though the words wouldn’t escape him. Don’t take that away from me.

“Billy.” You drew his attention back to you, and, despite the stiffness of his cheeks and lips, he sneered at your pitying gaze. “Be realistic. How could I have ever loved you?”

“Stop.”

“Your father hates you, Billy.” Your voice raised, eyes burning with a new fire into his own watery ones. “Your own mother left you. Do you know what that makes you?”

“Stop.”

“Do you know what that makes you, Billy?” you demanded, teeth bared. “It makes you unloveable.”

“STOP!”

“Billy?”

“STOP!” Billy flinched awake, sweat dripping down his forehead and spine, shivering at the breeze of his bedroom. Chest heaving, his eyes were wild and unfocused as they darted about the dark room, few objects such as his dresser and desk only visible due to the moonlight filtering through his window. 

Sighing heavily, Billy dragged his hands down his face, groaning softly and massaging his temples. 

“What a fuckin’ nightmare,” he grumbled before peering over at you. 

You, still curled up beside him, sleeping peacefully. Your hair splayed out along one of his pillows, one of his shirts wrinkled and twisted around your form, your leg still crooked over his hips. 

You were still his. Thank fuck, you were still his. 

“YN,” he shook you awake, one hand on your shoulder.

You hummed in your sleep, lips twitching downwards at the disturbance. “Wha…?” you grumbled, not bothering to open your eyes. 

“Babe, c’mon, let’s go for a drive. Wake up.”

“Nooooo,” you moaned. 

“Yessss.”

“Can I sleep on the drive?”

He raised a brow. “You think you’ll be able to?”

One eye of yours peeked open, focusing on him instantly. You pouted.

Billy’s chest tightened, but for the first time since the dream, he felt like he could breathe. Thank God. He was not going to sleep another wink tonight. Not in that damned house, at least. 

You huffed, rolling your eyes. “Fine, fine, I’ll go. Stop giving me your little puppy dog eyes.” You rolled off the bed, falling onto the floor with a thud before rising to your feet and wrapping a blanket around your head and shoulders like a cloak. “But there are ground rules, mister.” You held up your hand to him. “One, you can’t drive over 30 miles an hour. Two, no loud music- or, wait, no music at all-”

“What?”

“-Three, only for the next hour or so, then we’re going back to my place to go to sleep.” You gave him a pointed look. “Deal?”

His lips sloped into his usual smirk as he rose to his feet, arms instantly moving to wrap around your waist and tug you into his chest, close and tight. 

“Deal.”

You. You, you, you. God, he never wanted to think about that nightmare again, and if he never again heard the words “I hate you” fall from your lips, even as a joke, it would be too soon. You were still his, and he knew, he fucking knew, dammit, that you loved him.

“Why are you so sweaty?”

“Don’t ask.”

Steve Harrington: 

“Steve,” Robin muttered softly. Her gaze was downcast, and she had one arm around the front of his chest and shoulders, trying to hold him back and redirect him. “Don’t look.”

“What’s going on?” He tried to peer around the others, all of whom either had their backs turned or looked at him mournfully. “Hey, what’s-” he tried to push past Robin, but Dustin rushed forward to help stop him, “-what the hell is going on?! Guys?!”

They all stood in a half circle around… something, he couldn’t see what. The kids and Nancy and Goddamn everyone except-

“YN,” Steve breathed out in realization. His heart was stuck in his throat, and the pounding of his own blood drowned out the quiet whispers of the others. “No. No, no, no, no—NO!” He shoved past the pairs of arms, pushing past a tearful Max and a sobbing Eleven, only to feel his whole body flinch back at the sight. 

“YN,” he whispered again, horrified at the sight, not wanting to believe it. “Oh God, oh fuck, oh God.”

Blood was- was everywhere. Steve’s knees wobbled and gave out as he collapsed into the forest floor beside you. His hands hovered over your body, feeling the heat rolling off it in waves from the gushes of hot, crimson liquid seeping from obscured wounds. A pool of it, he realized, dampened the knees of his jeans, cooling against his skin. 

“Steve,” you whimpered, “I’m scared. It hurts so bad.” You trembled, hands curled into tight fists as you clenched your eyes shut, tears trailing down into your sweat-soaked hair. 

“This isn’t right—you can’t… fuck.” He tore a hand through his brown tufts before springing into action, scraping himself along the damp soil to ease his legs underneath your back, your body lying perpendicular to his so he could lean your head in his lap. 

“YN, I…” he trailed off, gasping for air as his wavering hands encompassed your face. “I don’t know what to do,” he choked out helplessly. 

And you reached up to grasp his wrist, eyes so innocent and terrified. “Steve, please, I don’t wanna die.”

“This was never supposed to happen,” he rambled indignantly. “No no no because I was supposed to protect you because I always protect you, and now this is going so, so fucking wrong.” He felt the oncoming headache that arrived with fresh tears, the snot dribbling down his nose and onto his upper lip, the cold sweat that covered his body head to toe. He wanted to throw up and sob and hold you close and tight and never, never fucking let you go. 

His own heart, as you lay in his arms, was being ripped from his chest. No help was coming, there was no time to heal or press on what was already far too damaged to halt. You were… you were…

“Please,” you wailed, your screams echoing into the forest. He could hear the others shuffling around behind him, their own sobs fading into the mix. “No, please, I don’t wanna die! Steve, please!”

Steve could feel your cheeks getting colder, and he watched as your hands slowly began to unfurl at your sides. “YN, I’m so sorry. Don’t leave me, I can’t-” his own whimper cut himself off. 

“Steve,” you gasped for breath, your voice so small, so weak. “You said you would protect me.” The furrow in your brow smoothed itself out, and your chest began to slow its heaving movements. 

“I know, I know,” he weeped. “I love you so much, please don’t leave me.”

“You love me?” you whispered back. Your eyes, that had been locked on his for so long, filled with fear and anguish, shifted away, losing themselves in the black sky above. A small smile broke out on your bloodstained lips. 

“YN?” Steve questioned fearfully, sniveling as he peeled the hair away from your face. 

“I never knew that you loved me, Steve.” A single tear broke loose from your eyelids as you let them droop closed. “I love…” You mouthed the word you before you sighed, your body finally losing all of its tension, its stress—its fear.

Steve let out a quivering breath, his hands cupping your cheeks swiftly. “YN? YN?!”

“Steve.” A hand pressed on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off viciously. 

“YN!” He peeled back your eyelids, blanching at the blank look in your irises. “No, no, come on, I was supposed to protect you!” he cried out hysterically. 

Steve’s body curled over yours like he was collapsing in on himself, mouth mumbling pleas as he slid a hand over your chest, above your heart. 

Nothing.

“Steve!” The hand on his shoulder was more insistent, shaking him back and forth violently. 

No. He wasn’t going to leave you. Not now, not yet.

“Steve, wake up!”

“What?” Steve’s eyes flew open, and his head straightened up from the back of the couch, causing Dustin to yelp and jump back in shock. 

“Jesus, what the fuck?!” the younger boy screeched, leaving Steve wincing and pressing two hands to his ears. 

“Goddamn,” he hissed, “You really need to hit puberty faster; these voice cracks of yours are gonna leave me deaf one of these days.”

“Well it’s not my fault you sleep like a bear in hibernation.”

“Ew, what? That's disgusting, Dustin,” Steve grimaced. 

Dustin facepalmed. “You’re thinking of ‘heat,’ genius, I said ‘hibernation.’”

Steve faltered, nodding absentmindedly. “Oh.”

“Yeah, anyways,” he rolled his eyes, “you better head home.”

“Movie night over already?” Steve dug his palms against his eyes, trying harshly to wipe away the image of—er, that happening to you—from his mind. 

“Uh, yeah,” Dustin deadpanned, “Princess Leia changed out of her bikini about two hours ago, but I’m glad you were paying attention.”

“Well, look, if it makes you feel any better, the dream I just had was terrible,” Steve groaned, rising up from the coach and grabbing his jacket off the coffee table. 

“Yeah, I heard. Something about ‘oh no’ and ‘don’t leave’ and ‘YN, YN, YN.’” The tween rolled his eyes. “Dude, if you ask me, I’d say just ask her out already, ‘cause your pining from a distance is getting pretty depressing.”

Steve stared at him with pursed lips and blank, dead eyes. 

Then he fondled for his car keys in his jacket pocket and huffed. “Yep, I’m gonna go. See ya around, Henderson.”

“I’m serious, Steve!” Dustin called after him. “It’s getting creepy! Why don’t you just tell her that you’re absolutely whipped for-”

Steve slammed the door of his house, trekking towards his car while grumbling under his breath. “Frickin’ Dustin. I’m not whipped. Nobody,” he slid into the seat of his car, staring into the rearview mirror and adjusting it, “nobody has ever had me…” he paused, staring at his bloodshot eyes, at his tear-stained cheeks. 

“Fuck.” He glanced back at Dustin’s house, its windows still open and flashing with the action of a movie.

Goddammit, Henderson. 

Steve put his car into drive, pulling out of the driveway and onto the street, but when he slowed at his usual turn, he slammed the brakes on the car instead and stared at the sign of the intersecting street. 

You lived almost two blocks from there—Steve never realized that. 

He could—no, no he couldn’t. It was the middle of the night, around eleven o’clock according to his dash, so why in the world did he have the right to wake you up for news like that?

It can wait. His feelings can wait.

He said those exact words ten more times as he drove to your house, clumsily throwing it into park alongside the sidewalk in front of your home. He knew which window corresponded with your room, as aside from being the group babysitter and helicopter mother, he was also the chauffeur. 

“This is stupid,” he muttered to himself as he stepped out of his car, slamming the door shut. “This is so dumb; this is a terrible idea. One of the worst, actually.” 

But he picked up the pebble out of your garden and chucked it at your window anyway, pure adrenaline launching the rock at a high speed and making perfect contact with the middle of the glass.

It also left a sizable crack.

“Oh shit,” Steve hissed under his breath, hands flying up to his hair as he saw your light switch on. “Shit, shit, shit.”

The window slid up, and before he knew it, your glare found his form. Your head was leaned outside of the window, hands braced against the sill as you whisper-shouted at him. “Seriously, Steve?! What the fuck?!”

“Sorry, sorry,” he jogged closer to your house, questioning scaling the side to climb into your window, but then he noticed your tangled, matted hair and nightshirt. “Yeah, that’s my bad, I, uh,” he chuckled nervously, “sometimes I forget my own strength.” He shrugged lamely. 

You gestured angrily at the window. “How the hell am I supposed to fix this?”

This is going so wrong. Dammit, he knew this wouldn’t go well. 

“YN,” he called out to you, trying to get your attention as you investigated the crack with a sigh. 

“What, genius? Got another grand idea?” you snarked. “Why don’t you go break the locks off my front door too while you're at it-”

“YN, I’m in love with you.”

You choked on your next words, eyes flying open. “What?!”

“I’m just- I’m in love with you, and I really wanted you to know that.”

While he shifts back and forth on his feet, your mouth bobs open and closed. 

“Are you serious?” you finally land on. 

“Don’t call me Shirley?” he offered back lamely, and you dragged a hand down the front of your face. 

Nonetheless, you wore a wide, abashed grin. “You’re a goddamn fool, Steve Harrington.”

Steve shook his head and smiled at that. “Only for you, babe.”

“Now go home and go to sleep so I can kiss you tomorrow, dumbass,” you waved him away. 

A stupid, lovesick smirk took over his face, painting him the absolute dope you always pegged him as. “Sounds like a plan, doll.” He spun around, swallowing a large gulp of air and wondering if you could see the way his hands shook as he unlocked his car. 

“Steve! Wait!”

 He turned back, almost too eager, to see a large blush blooming on your face in the light of your room. “I love you too.”

What a horrible, terrible, shitty-ass, perfectly timed nightmare.

Oreosmama’s Masterlist

AVATAR: THE LAST AIRBENDER/LEGEND OF KORRA

CALL OF DUTY

HAIKYUU!!

MY HERO ACADEMIA

ONE PUNCH MAN

STAR WARS

STRANGER THINGS

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Other Fandoms:

Chaos Walking:

🟣Headcanons🟣

When He’s Sad (Todd Hewitt) 🌦️

Criminal Minds:

Spencer Reid: 

■  Envy on Leave 🌦️

After failing his field test, Spencer is stuck on desk duty for a week. You, his usual partner for cases, get put with Morgan for the newest case, and Spencer can’t say he’s a fan. Oh no, he’s not a fan at all. 

Jujutsu Kaisen: 

Gojo Satoru:

■  Ten to None (Soulmate AU)🌦️

Soulmates’ markings add up to ten so soulmates know just how much of a danger their soulmate is to them. You have a ten on your wrist, so you know your soulmate must have a zero. There’s just one problem: no one in history has ever been worthy of a danger rating of ten, so who the hell is the supposedly “invincible god” were you fated to? 

Peaky Blinders:

Michael Gray: 

■  Gray Chains (Yandere) 🖤☀️ 

Michael needs to see you. It’s been three days after being shot by Luca Changretta’s men, and he knows you need to see him too–especially since you’re chained up against his headboard for trying to escape from him too many times. 

■  Lost and Found (Yandere/Sequel to “Gray Chains”) 🖤🌦️ (🔔?)

Michael is weak and desperate for you after being bedridden with his gunshot wounds in the hospital, but after weeks of caring for him, you know your feelings for your former kidnapper have grown into something you don’t dare confess. One night, when you almost let your feelings slip, you decide to flee. Michael won’t let you go so easily.

Queen’s Gambit:

Benny Watts: 

■  April Showers ☀️

All dolled up and ready to confess, you await a certain chess champion’s visit as a thunderstorm rages outside. But the longer your phone call stretches on, the closer you realize he may be to feeling the same about you.

Seven Deadly Sins:

Ban:

■  More Than a Name (Soulmate AU) ☀️

While escaping from the Holy Knights who are chasing after not her, but the name on her wrist, YN runs into the last person she expected to see so soon: Ban, her soulmate. 

Top Gun: Maverick

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw:

■  Look Me in the Eyes 🌦️

During naval training, your jet crashed and burned, taking your memories with it. But the lieutenant who saved you seems to know you better than he lets on. The only issue is that he refuses to tell you his name.

Stranger Things Masterlist

If you would like to show your support: ☕️ Thank you!

Requests are open! Will write for the following x reader:

Fluff 💖

Angst 🖤

Smut ❤️‍🔥

GIF by miqrated

Glassy Eyes {Eddie x fem!reader} ❤️‍🔥

Good Use {Steddie x fem!reader} ❤️‍🔥

Polaroids {Steddie x fem!reader} ❤️‍🔥

Eyes Up {Eddie x fem!reader} ❤️‍🔥

Reincarnation {Steddie x fem!reader}

Eddie Munson

Steve Harrington

Steddie

If you would like to see a different character, please ask and we shall see.

Main Masterlist