#Anyway all I know is I got hit over the head by it as with a brick and now I'm seeing stars | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

satorubi · 1 day

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꒰ 𝐬𝐮𝐦 ꒱ a night of ferris wheels, face paint, and fried oreos quickly becomes sour when a 'cheer me up' date with eren leads to you doing the walk of shame back to your apartment.

꒰ 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐫 ꒱ eren x yn, blk fem reader 14.6K words ╰┈➤ yn uses she / her pronouns, eren’s so lovesick m' sad, connie is a prick lmao, toxicity warning, pussy play, slight handjob, female & male orgasm, doggystyle, breeding lol, yn cries but s’ from pleasure, slight conflict - arguing, eren gets his heart broken i fear :/, yn is delusional 4 con ngl, pet names used such as bby, sweet girl, mama, pretty girl, angel, etc.

꒰ 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬 𝐮𝐩𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞 ! ꒱ i almost abandoned this fic but i got my spunk back n' now i feel dramatic lol, anyway . . this one will be menacing. i feel like the smut is all over the place but ugh, we'll see. also i wrote connie with a man i used to know in mind so forgive me if he’s an absolute asshole. thas all 4 now. lol, bye. enjoy n’ don’t forget to read my content warnings above before continuing please n thank u :3 — icymi < prt 1 & prt 2

the sound of crème-colored nikes hastily screeching down the hallway punctuated connie's furious trek to eren's condo. his face was a mask of annoyance and barely restrained rage. 'of course you'd run here', he utters bitterly under his breath. where else would you go after that tantrum you threw this morning. wasn’t that what the argument was about? how much better eren was than him? how much of a bad, horrible potential boyfriend he was?

connie scoffed, shaking his head as his mind conjured up his worst nightmare scenario : eren, with his arms wrapped around you, nuzzling against your neck, poisoning your mind with whispers about what a loser your boyfriend was and how you should ditch him.

but even as jealousy clawed at his throat, he still couldn't muster up an ounce of guilt for his own contradictory. yeah, maybe he'd possibly been seeking comfort in someone else's arms too - late nights at work that had absolutely nothing to do with getting some overtime in like he’d told you, devious texts he’d made sure to delete before coming to visit you . . . that was his business. he had needs, and if you couldn't satisfy them, well, that was on you.

he wasn’t necessarily mad at you. he was the one to say that were was nothin' wrong with 'getting to know' multiple people at once. he knew what he was getting into when he hit you up for the first time. what really twisted the knife in his back was the fact that out of all the people you could've run to, you chose fuckin’ eren. his friend and his rival all in one, the only person who'd always wanted what was his. it felt like the ultimate betrayal, and honestly, a mockery of everything they'd built together.

maybe that's why his texts were still yet to be read.

well, connie wasn't about to just roll over and let it happen. hell no, that’d kill his ego faster than mushrooms could. he'd come here to drag you away from this colossal mistake and remind you of where you should be, where you belong . .

with him.

by his side. not eren's. never eren's.

so, upon approaching suite 28A, connie removes his chain, wrapping it around the brass of his knuckles. y'know . . just in case. he knew the kind of energy he was coming with, and now the only thing left to do was knock on the door and see what eren was on.

in fact, connie’s idea of a polite knock was driving the front of his timberland boot forcefully against the pristine wooden door, again and again, the crashes echoing loudly down the hallway. he’d probably get eren slapped with a noise complaint or two, but to hell with the neighbors - that was child's play compared to the real matter at hand.

a deafening silence ensued, thick with emotion as connie waited with bottled nerves for any movement from within the apartment. the stillness painfully stretched for a few seconds until faint sounds of quiet shuffling could be heard from the other side. at the subtle signs of eren’s presence just feet away, a rush of adrenaline flooded through connie’s veins, pure fury rising within him like molten lava.

at long last, the door swung open, revealing the man connie had been waiting to converse with for what felt like hours - eren. posed calmly in the doorway, he stood motionless as he effortlessly towered over connie with narrowed eyes glinting ominously in the dim light.

“s' a lil' late for boy's night, no?” eren’s lean frame casually blocked the entrance, one arm propped against the doorframe in a territorial display.

“yo’ phone broken?” connie started, clenching his jaw. “didn’t see my text?”

eren sighed. “i did. i jus’ . . . don't think she wants to be bothered with anymore antics from you tonight.”

connie laughed and shook his head at eren’s immaturity. “look, i’m not doin' the bullshit, bro. just tell her to get her stuff and come on so we can head home and sort our shit out.”

if heading home meant going back to your place so he could kiss your ass and tell you how sorry he was like always, eren was most definitely not having that.

“she good where she at.”

“tuh . . and where's that?”

a small smile tugged at the corner of eren’s mouth as his thoughts meandered to waking up tangled in silk sheets next to your slumbering form just minutes before. your leg casually draped across his lap in easy intimacy, foot grazing his thigh as you shifted.

“doesn’t matter. like i said, she good. don’t worry about it.”

connie showed no intention of backing down, hands clenching into tense fists as he shoved them into his pockets, itching to strike out as his annoyance begged for an outlet.

"you’re actually fuckin' pathetic, eren," he spat out. "real shit. you’ve been plotting for months, years even. waitin' for me to leave her lonely. you must be real delusional if you think my one fuck up is gonna get you some pussy."

oh, the irony.

a muscle in eren’s cheek feinted as he worked his jaw. "watch y'mouth, connie. m' not on that tonight."

connie barked out a cutting laugh. “or what? the fuck are you gonna do, beat me up?”

just on time, connie’s poisonous rant cut off abruptly as both men's heads swiveled in unison toward your soft, familiar voice calling out from the living room.

"rennie? is that you? s' late - who's screamin' like that?" you emerged groggily, rubbing sleep from your eyes. connie’s rage momentarily subsided at the sight of your bare face and the pink headscarf he'd bought you wrapped neatly around your head, a reflexive smile touching his lips.

but then his gaze trailed downward, fully taking in your . . lack of clothing. all you had on was an oversized vintage band tee that hung off the shoulder, the worn fabric barely grazing your thighs. with every step, the shirt rode up further, putting the curve of your ass cheeks on display beneath the cotton.

and eren wasted no time raking his gaze over your figure, eyes darkening before flicking a taunting look at connie.

you stared blearily at the young man framed in the doorway, features scrunched in confusion. “umm, am i still dreamin' or is that connie?"

at the familiarity of his nickname on your lips, connie couldn't help but chuckle. “yeah, s'me babe.” the endearment rolled naturally off his tongue before the gravity of the situation crashed back down. his eyes trailed your body again, throat tightening. “but uh, whatchu doin' over here? went by your place and you weren't there. called, texted, got nothin'.”

you let out a small sigh, turning slightly into eren’s sturdy frame as you felt his reassuring heat envelop you.

“connie, don't be coy,” you said, hoping to quell the confrontation. “there’s no reason to go there with me right now.” no seriously . . you’ve cried enough tonight.

“in that case, maybe we should get you home. get you into somethin' y’know . . . a lil’ warmer. make you feel good for all the trouble i-”

you peered between the two men, brow furrowing as you clung to your last reserves of patience. “i’m okay stayin' here for the night, actually.”

connie just laughed, though there was a brittle edge to it as his gaze raked dismissively over eren’s imposing silence. "c’mon baby, don't be like that. really lettin' him get in your head, huh? he’s jealous, pretty. it’s written all over his face. s' damn shame, too."

eren’s eyes flashed dangerously. "did i not tell you to shut the fuck up?" he bit out, shoulders tensing as he took a threatening step into connie’s space. before things could escalate further, you quickly lifted a halting hand to eren’s chest, feeling the coiled tension in his frame.

"ok, ok, that's enough," you delivered firmly. to connie, you repeated more insistently, “i think you need to leave, 'kay? we're not doin' this shit right now. i have an exam in the mornin' n' this is the last thing i needed from you after today."

connie’s mouth tightened, spots of embarrassed color blooming on his tanned cheeks. the blatant rejection stung, resentment twisting his expression.

"yeah . . you definitely been hangin' around him too much,” he shook his head, tonguing the inside of his cheek as he gave you one final look of annoyance. "call me when you done here. when you ready to stop fuckin' on my friends and you figure out that you miss me."

your heart nearly stopped, his accusatory words making you flinch.

for one, because it was harsh, and for two, because it was fucking true.

and it'd only been a few hours.

"w-what? we didn't -"

he only laughed dryly. "yeah . . okay, yn."

it felt horrible to lie. you knew connie must've felt betrayed seeing you here after the messy way things were handled earlier. it was a terrible look. but hearing it said aloud, in that tone . . . it felt so surreal.

you couldn't describe the whooshing in your stomach, not knowing if you'd been caught or insulted, possibly both. but you couldn't confront it now. connie was already angry, the wounds too raw to meet head-on. you’d only dig yourself a deeper hole.

as if sensing your distress, eren moved closer, bracketing your body protectively before you could say another word. his burning gaze stayed locked on connie, voice dropping an octave. “leave. she told you once and i don't wanna' hear her tell you twice.”

curse him a thousand times over. how could someone still manage to be that sexy while pissed off?

the implicit threat shimmered in the charged air, connie’s hands moving in his pockets, shoulders bunching. but faced with eren’s intensity shielding you, he had no choice but to swallow his bitterness and take it out of the lobby with him.

for now at least. this was far from over.

connie scoffed, taking a breath before calmly letting out a “remember this shit, eren,” and starting the long journey back home. you released a slow exhale as he finally turned on his heel, shoulders slumped in a defeat he hoped he'd masked. he didn't leave without one last burning look your way first - eyes awash with shame and reproach, "cause i know i will."

you forced yourself not to flinch from that stare. it’s not as if you hated connie - not even close. when he wasn't wrapped up in toxic masculinity or his own insecurities, he could actually be sweet and attentive. you’d even shared plenty of good memories over the years prior to evolving romantically.

either way, you were leaving for your trip with him out of the city in just two weeks. which was exactly the amount of time you'd be giving him to get his shit together.

two. fucking. weeks.

with connie disappearing around the corner, you let yourself relax back into the embrace of eren’s home.

the tension from the confrontation still thrummed through him as you tugged him back inside, shoulders bunched and jaw clenched. he looked almost comically fierce, like an aggravated guard dog not quite ready to stand down.

you couldn't help an affectionate giggle at the sight. “eren, he's gone now. you can stop foaming at the mouth.” your teasing voice seemed to penetrate his agitated haze. slowly the fire in his eyes dimmed to a gentle smile as he turned his attention fully back to you.

his gaze trailed your figure almost vulnerably before he stepped closer, long fingers coming up to pinch your cheek with tenderness.

“you good?” he murmured, breath fanning your face. that simple touch made your heart stutter as you fought to appear unfazed.

“yeah . . . i’m fine,” you managed to whisper, cursing internally as your voice wavered. inside your mind churned with a storm of emotion at being this close to him after all this time - nerves and excitement and longing threatening to spill out if you let your guard down.

you cleared your throat. “and um . . thanks for having my back out there. that was a bit . . . too much.”

eren just shrugged, full lips curving crookedly. “m' jus' your bodyguard, remember?”

a fond smile tugged at eren’s mouth as he noted your drowsy, slightly unsteady posture. no doubt you were feeling the pleasurable aftereffects of the thoroughly enjoyable night you spent tangled in passion.

his gaze swept over you with tender concern. “how’re you feelin' for real though? anything hurt right now? saw you limpin’ after we finished up earlier.”

you gave a small shrug, warmth filling your cheeks. “i’m a little sore i guess. my legs kinda feel like jello, and i gotta wake up early tomorrow.”

eren nodded knowingly, trying and failing to contain his self-satisfied grin. clearly, he had thoroughly exhausted you in the best possible way. but still, that protective streak flared up at seeing you so worn out. he moved closer, hand coming to rest gently on your hip. “aww stink, was i too rough with you?” his voice held a mixture of genuine worry and humor beneath the teasing lilt. the last thing he wanted was to truly hurt you in the heat of passion.

but you were quick to shake your head, assuring him, “you’re so annoying . . m’ fine, just grumpy . . n’ sleep deprived.” another yawn cracked your jaw just then as if to emphasize the point.

eren’s attentiveness made warmth bloom in your chest as he swiftly retrieved some tylenol and poured you a chilled mug of juice. he settled beside you, broad palm coming to rest comfortingly on your thigh as those soulful green eyes searched your face.

“yo, i uh . . know this is random but...is there any truth to what connie said? about me bein' too protective? too overbearing?”

you could hear the genuine worry edging eren's question and quickly shook your head. “no, no not at all,” you assured firmly. you knew connie was likely just grasping at straws, trying to get under eren’s skin any way he could in the heat of the moment. but you wouldn't let seeds of self-doubt take root.

covering his hand gently with your own, you met his gaze. “i’d do the same for you. i think s' normal to protect someone you love. especially when connie thinks he gets to jus' barge in here and confront us like a crybaby.” you gave eren’s fingers a grateful squeeze. “don’t pay him any mind, he just doesn't understand our friendship. you handled it really well, eren. i’m proud of you, seriously.”

“thank you.”

a flicker of some indiscernible emotion passed through eren’s eyes at the word 'friend'. even after the passion and raw vulnerability you both exposed tonight, it seemed that term didn't quite encompass all that lay unspoken between you now.

you felt an answering warmth bloom across your own cheeks as the weighty silence expanded, full of possibility and unasked questions. there was an intimacy here that transcended friendship, and you both knew it even if the right labels hovered just out of grasp.

“oh . . and eren?”

“hm?”

ducking your head, you spoke softly, almost like a secret. “you think he'll ever change? honestly?” your words tapered off, but the question hung between you, filling the hushed kitchen with promise.

“for you, i sure hope so.” eren mumbled, slowly giving you time to pull away. he reached to softly squeeze the back of your neck, calloused fingers trailing feather-light strokes down the slender column of your skin. when you leaned into the tender caress, he tilted your chin up, sea-glass eyes searching yours with quiet but firm intensity.

“regardless . . i’ll be here,” he murmured, voice a low rumble. “even if he doesn't want me to be. i always have and i always will.”

“so hold on, you're tellin' me that connie and eren almost fought . . . over you?” your roommate sasha chuckled as she nearly sputtered out her sip of mango boba across the usual sunny corner nook's marble table.

you answered sasha's question with a nod. you'd been laughing at her reactions to breaking the news about what happened back at eren's place since you'd left psych 405 together earlier this morning.

though, for the sake of protecting your peace, you decided to leave out the friends-with-benefits situation. not out of mistrust, but . . . it just wasn't the right time for this to be out in the open yet, or ever at all for that matter.

it had been exactly four days since the connie incident, and in other words, a nonstop four days of him making efforts to reach out. whether it was through subliminal tweets and songs on his story, edible arrangements sent to your door, or sasha having to tell you how many times he asked her to put in a good word, the man just wouldn't let up.

you couldn't lie, the effort was sweet and all, given that's exactly what your relationship had been lacking these past few months. but spending these last few days within eren's vicinity had only seemed to extend this small break from connie in the most pleasant way possible.

late night bubble baths, smoke sessions on the balcony while looking over the noisy city, and two adorably bad attempts at making you breakfast in bed later, you found yourself gushing over eren at random hours of the day. kind of like right now.

“sounds like you and eren have been gettin’ closer, hm?”

“yeah . .” you smiled at the thought of him, tracing the fresh love lines on your palm, the ghost of eren’s lips still lingering there as your mind replayed a bouquet of affection from him on a loop. “connie referred to him as my new bodyguard, says he's too much. but i dunno’, thought it was pretty sweet of him gettin' all protective over me . .”

“are you smilin’ about who i think you're smilin’ about?”

you started to roll your eyes when sasha skipped over to sit beside you in the booth, her fingers pinching your shoulder playfully. “i knew it! i knew you were leaving shit out. i mean, i’ve known this since we were kids. it was always so obvious! oh my god, tell me every detail. when did all this start bubbling up? and why didn't you tell me, you sneaky little slut?”

just before you could become overwhelmed with her questions, you thought back to simpler times. it’s true, she'd always hoped you two had heart eyes for each other. you could blatantly reminisce about the pure excitement on her face when you told her about smooching eren on the cheek after his big game sophomore year. it wasn't anything major at the time, at least to you, especially knowing what a ladies man he was. fuck, he'd probably gotten hundreds of kisses that day. but sasha couldn't sit still. she even went as far as envisioning you both growing old together on a farm with nothing but bunnies, cows, pigs, and one another.

you could only imagine what she'd say if she found out he was practically your sex coach.

“no no, don't start this again, sasha. besides, i’m talking to connie, and even if i did have a small, tiny liking for eren, hypothetically speaking, we've been friends for too long. i don't think he'd be into me in that sort of wa –”

“bitch, fuck connie! be for real. that man has loved you since before even knowing what the definition of it was. why else do you think they stopped getting along after connie asked you out?”

she had a point. anything you wanted, eren was there. anytime you needed him, eren was there. rain or snow, any place, eren was fucking there. it wouldn't take a rocket scientist to come to the conclusion that he might've been somewhat attracted to you. but it also didn't take a lot to know that boys were stupid. they’re always sweet to girls they find appealing, so this was probably just a simple case of being friends with, well, a guy.

“i jus’ - i dunno’, okay? i mean, yeah he's sweet and he makes me . . really happy, but, eren isn't really the settling down type. plus, like i said, we've been through too much and you've seen how these things go in the movies. if it was meant to be it would've happened already.”

sasha pursed her lips. “ ‘not the settling down type’ ? he dated mikasa for 6 years, yn, and that alone is human torture in itself. trust me, he could settle down little ol' you if he really wanted to, which in this case, i believe he does.”

she turned to face you fully, but you stopped her before she could say anything more. “sasha, s’ never gonna’ happen. plus, me and connie are meeting up to talk this out later anyway so . .”

sasha only sipped her drink, eyes moving side to side as she sent you a look you knew way too well. “oh my god, what now? why’re you lookin' at me like that? like i’m lying through my teeth?”

she suddenly let out a loud “hah!” drawing judgmental eyes and distinctive chatter from all around. “you just blew your own cover, missy. inever said you were lying, but now i know you are.”

“jesus, i just don't understand why you actually think eren would ever -” before you could finish your sentence, the familiar rhythm of your buzzing phone shut you right up. you peered down, mindlessly thinking it was probably connie who'd finally found a way around being blocked.

but it wasn't. In fact, sasha put it into words faster than you could. “you better fuckin' answer, bitch,” she said, pointing at you with direction as if scolding a child. because speak of the devil - eren was calling.

“i-i can talk to him later. s'probably jus' him checking up on me . .” the quiet stutter in your voice caught you off guard. how did this man have the power to make you trip over your words without even being in front of you? without even speaking to you? you didn't know, but it was a question you both did and didn't want the answer to.

sasha grinned at you like the cheshire cat, eyes sparkling with mischief and poorly contained glee. “well, it should only take a few seconds then, yeah?”

you shot her a glare, but there was no real heat behind it. your french-tipped finger hovered over the accept button, a strange mix of nerves and excitement swirling in your gut. “guess so,” you muttered.

“put him on speaker!”

you took a deep breath and swiped to answer, bringing the phone between the two of you and turning the volume down to a reasonable level. “hi eren, what's up?”

“hi, yn.” his deep, honey-smooth voice filled your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. it was low and mellow, and you heard the distinct sound of chatter and metal clanking in the background - he must've been called in at the shop today. “i was jus' checkin' in, see how your day's going. know you had some school shit you had to do. feels like forever since i saw you last.”

you laughed softly, shaking your head even though he couldn't see you. “ren, it's been like four hours. we had breakfast together this morning, remember? i spilled coffee on your shirt.”

“ah, think i remember,” he said, and you could hear the smile in his voice. “my shirt as in the one you stole. dunno’ how i could forget the sight. looked good on you.” your cheeks heated at the memory, at the way his eyes had darkened as they raked over your bare legs, the hem of his tee barely skimming your thighs.

by now, sasha was making exaggerated kissy faces at you, hands clasped beneath her chin in a pantomime of swooning. you flipped her off, turning slightly in your seat to hide your face.

“i miss you. been thinkin' bout’ you all day.”

you heart did that fluttering thing again, a warm glow spreading throughout your chest. “i . . i miss you too,” you admitted softly, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

there was a beat of charged silence, the weight of unspoken things hanging heavy in the air, yet in no way awkward at all. if anything, you'd almost completely forgotten there were other people in the room.

then eren cleared his throat, his voice dropping an octave. “so, i was wonderin' if you'd like to uh, come with me to this fair they're havin' down in trost tonight?”

a fair? in trost? that was about a three hour drive away, two if you could beat the evening rush of traffic. this was practically a road trip, an activity that felt so important given that's what you'd planned to do with connie in just a few days.

“i know i said this morning that i’d let you breathe, to collect your thoughts. but i wouldn't wanna eat churros and take corny photobooth pictures with anyone other than you.”

sasha quietly gasped, her mouth forming into an 'o' shape while you bit your lip, hesitating. you’ve been so down you’d almost forgotten about the good times - the times when your mom would take you both to the fair, where you and eren would be sick to your stomachs after stepping off the gravitron due to being way too excited to wait for your snacks to digest. there’s just been so much going on lately.

guilt twisted in your gut as you remembered your earlier words to sasha. ‘i’m meeting up with connie later to talk things out.' the words tasted bitter on your tongue now, the prospect of facing your so-called boyfriend after letting eren fuck you senseless now filling you with queasy dread.

because you would do it again. you hated admitting that, even just to yourself, but one thing you could say with confidence is that a man with hip movement like eren was a dangerous thing for a woman like you.

he waited for your response, hope and anticipation lacing his tone. and god, there was nothing you wanted more than to curl up beside him, to lose yourself on a rickety roller coaster and in the solid warmth of his body pressed against yours as you squealed at the predictable drops and turns.

“if you agree to get kitty face paint with me and ride the ferris wheel, then yes,” you said at last, resolving to deal with connie later.

“you got yourself a deal.”

“want me to grab some of those sour gummies you like for the road on my way over? there’s a store near campus.”

“yes please.” eren said, smile evident in his voice. “i think you're my favorite person.”

“yeah yeah, i better be.”

there was no time for eren to respond before he was cut off by the sound of jean's agitated voice. 'yo motherfucker, your break ended two minutes ago. you can giggle and kick your feet later. let’s go.'

both you and sasha tried your best to hush your laughs but it was nearly impossible. “hi jean,” you said in unison, already knowing he was probably rolling his eyes.

“hi ladies. miss y'all too, but cars don't fix themselves.”

“you’re an asshole,” eren grinned before returning his attention right back to you. “duty calls, ma'am. hit me when you're on your way over to mine, yeah?”

you nodded even though he couldn't see you. “stay safe in battle, i’ll see you soon.” an 'i love you' rose to the tip of your tongue, the words burning in your throat like aged whiskey. but you swallowed them back, the time not yet right, the feeling still too raw and fragile to voice.

you ended the call and slowly lowered the phone, staring at the screen until it went dark. when you finally looked up, sasha was grinning at you like she just won the lottery.

“okay so, hear me out . . . the wedding will be in august. i’m thinking cabo, or maybe paris if you're feeling extra romantic. oh - and vodka, lost and lost of vodka.”

you tossed a wadded up napkin at her, rolling your eyes. but you couldn't suppress the giddy smile stretching across your face, the excited butterflies taking flight in your stomach.

“he likes you and i don't wanna’ hear shit else! ‘three hour drive down and back just so i can cheer you up' my ass.”

you laughed and maybe, just maybe, she might've been onto something. and that thought simultaneously thrilled and terrified you, the implications and consequences of taking that leap swirling in your mind for the millionth time.

but then you remembered the way he'd looked at you this morning, eyes soft and full of something that stole the breath from your lungs. the way his thumb lingered on your bottom lip as he wiped whipped cream from it, his touch electric and reverent.

you recalled the safety of his arms, the rightness you felt waking up with your head pillowed on his chest. like coming home after a long, weary journey.

so yeah, maybe you could pretend you weren't terrified . . . at least just for a small while.

the warm evening air enveloped you as you stepped out of your apartment building, the fading sunlight painting the sky in stunning hues of orange and pink. the pure excitement thrumming through your veins was palpable, a giddy anticipation for the night ahead, for the chance to create new memories in a place that held so much nostalgia.

eren waited by his car, leaning against the passenger side door with a smile that was equal parts affectionate and mischievous. he looked effortlessly handsome in his work attire - dark jeans and a long denim button up. he must've wasted no time coming here. after all, he didn't want to have you out too late, knowing you took your sleep seriously. it felt almost criminal, the way your eyes locked onto his pushed up sleeves revealing strong, tanned and tattooed forearms that starred in a few of your recent dreams.

you took a moment to appreciate the view, and surprise surprise, so did eren. why wouldn’t he when you looked this good? he didn’t even know what to focus on — perhaps maybe the oversized boyfriend jeans, slung low on your hips as your pink thong tantalizingly peeks from the waistband. or maybe the way your flawless makeup begged for a closer study, each artful stroke of the brush highlighting your beauty . . and oh, he couldn’t forget about the knitted hello kitty bralette that really added the touch to your whole do. he could die. the snug fabric was just barely supporting the soft swells of your titties — pretty and full, n’ so so suckable too.

you almost think he’s giving you the eye of judgement, but that thought subsides when you notice his tongue run across the skin of his lower lip, hungry for you. it’s not like you hadn't seen eren look at you like that a thousand times before, but something about tonight’s glance felt so different - almost like he wanted to do more than just look.

just then, eren pushed off the car as you approached, his smile widening into a full blown swoon fest. “there she is,” he called, holding out his arms for a hug. “was startin' to think you stood me up, girl.”

you rolled your eyes fondly, stepping into his embrace without hesitation. his arms wrapped around you, solid and warm, the scruff of his still-developing beard tickling your temple as he pulled you close - your bodies swaying from side to side, “as if,” you scoffed, your words muffled against his chest. “you know i’d never miss the chance to kick your ass at ring toss.”

eren’s laugh rumbled through you, the sound wrapping around your heart like a well-worn blanket. “ima’ make you eat those words, watch.”

you pulled back just enough to smirk up at him, one brow arched in challenge. “we’ll see who's eatin' what by the end of the night.”

something flashed in his eyes, dark and heated, gone so quickly you almost thought you imagined it. but then his hands were on your hips, guiding you gently towards the open passenger door.

“fuckin’ minx.” he chuckled. “get in before i change my mind about being seen in public with you.”

you swatted at his chest half heartedly but allowed him to usher you into the car, the plush leather seat enveloping you like an old friend. passenger princess looked good on you.

eren leaned in, his woodsy cologne filling your senses as he reached across your body to grab the seatbelt. his fingers brushed your collarbone as he pulled the strap down, the fleeting contact sending sparks skittering down to your core. you held your breath, hyper aware of his proximity, of the way his eyes seemed to linger on the curve of your neck and the swell of your bottom lip.

there moment stretched, expanded, the air between you growing thick with a tension that felt both familiar and altogether new. you teetered on the edge of something, on the cusp of a sweet precipice, and the anticipation was delicious and terrifying in equal measure.

just as you were about to throw caution to the wind and boldly close the gap between you, a voice cut through the charged silence.

“ahem . .” sasha cleared her throat pointedly, leaning down to poke her head through your open window. “are you two forgetting something?”

you startled, jerking back from eren like you'd been caught by your mother. he blinked, looking at you once more before turning to face sasha ith a rueful grin.

“sasha,” he greeted, his voice slightly rougher than usual. “to what do we owe the pleasure?”

sasha rolled her eyes, her expression caught between exasperation and amusement. “just thought i’d come see my two best friends off on their big date. y'know, make sure casanova here doesn't skimp on the romance.”

you groaned, burying your face in your hands to hide the embarrassment rising to your cheeks. “sasha, for the last time, s'not a -”

“can i chat with you for a sec, eren?” she interrupted, jerking her head towards the rear of the car. “bro to bro, mano a mano?”

eren raised his brows but nodded, shooting you a quick wink and dimpled smile before circling around to meet sasha. you watched them in the rearview mirror, your curiosity piqued by the conspiratorial way their heads bent together. like they were plotting their breakthrough evil plan in a marvel movie.

straining your ears, you managed to catch snatches of their conversation over the low hum of the idling engine.

“. . . spit some game, jaeger, i mean it. this is your one chance to . .”

“y’know how i feel, sash. i jus’ don't wanna’ fuck everything up . .”

“think, it's now or never, man. you got this . .”

their voices faded to an indistinct murmur, drowned out by the sudden pounding of your heart. were they talking about you? about . . liking you?

the thought sent a swarm of butterflies rioting in your stomach, a dizzying mix of hope and nerves and sheer, unbridled want. you’d heard it over the years yeah, but with it being possibly confirmed, to know that you maybe, possibly, felt the same way.

you were pulled from your reverie by the sound of the driver's side door opening, eren sliding into his seat with a smile that was equal parts sheepish and determined. sasha leaned down to your open window one last time, her eyes sparkling with mirth and something softer, almost wistful.

“ah well, you two crazy kids have fun, alright?” she said, her tone light but laced with sincerity. “oh and, eren?”

he looked up, brows raised in question.

sasha’s grin widened, her eyes flicking to you before settling back on him. “remember, you're the edward.”

your eyes snapped to sasha, brow furrowed in confusion. “bitch was that a twilight reference?”

she lifted her slender fingers to her lips, playfully twisting them and muffling a “possibly . .”

with that cryptic parting shot, she straightened up and stepped back from the car, giving you both a jaunty salute. “don’t do anything i wouldn't do! love you guys!” she called, laughter lacing her voice as eren shook his head and shifted the car into drive.

and then you were pulling away from the curb, sasha's figure shrinking in the rearview mirror as the city blurred past in a kaleidoscope of light and color. your heart was racing, your skin humming with anticipation, with the knowledge that tonight, everything could change.

the road stretched out before you, an open invitation, a promise of adventure and possibility. and as eren reached over to take your hand, lacing your fingers together like it was the easiest thing in the world, you knew that whatever happened, wherever this night took you . . .

this wasn't going to end well.

the carnival was a splash of both color and sound, a dizzying assault on the senses. the air was thick with the scent of frying oil and spun sugar, shrieks of laughter and tinny calliope music filling the balmy night. eren watched you take it all in with a soft, indulgent smile, your eyes gone wide and glittering with inquisitive wonder. "aight', where to first, sweet girl?” he asked, bumping your shoulder with his. “wanna' stuff our faces before or after i win you the ugliest, most obnoxious prize on the midway?”

you grinned up at him, looping your arm through his and tugging him into the bustling crowd. "mmm, food first. i can't kick your ass at games on an empty stomach."

"oh, s’ like that, huh?” he arched a brow, smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. "awful big talk knowin’ how bad at those you used to be when we were kids."

"shut the fuck up, eren," you shot back breezily. “jus’ wait till’ i win. i may even be nice. i wont post your L on my story to embarrass you like i was plannin' to.”

"awe, so sweet of you," eren choked out a laugh, something bright and fizzy bubbling up in his chest. god, he'd missed this - the easy back and forth, the playful ribbing. being with you, talking with you — all the time, goofing off like life back at home wasn’t complete shit . . . nothing else even came close.

he let you pull him up to a garishly lit concession stand, elbowing rowdy kids out of the way with an expert nudge here and there. “two cotton candies, please,” you chirped to the bored-looking cashier behind the counter. “one blue, one pink.” eren reached for his wallet but you smacked his hand away, already shoving a few crumpled bills across the sticky surface. “my treat, mr. big-spender. wouldn't want you going broke before you have a chance to win me that giant banana with the dumb face.”

he rolled his eyes fondly as he accepted the enormous swirl of cotton candy, blue as a summer sky. “happy now, princess? m’ puttin’ my foot down on lettin’ you pay for the funnel cake though. a man's gotta retain some dignity.”

you snorted inelegantly, tearing off a huge chunk of pink fluff and stuffing it into your mouth. “bye. you haven't had dignity around me since we were in pull-ups.”

“brat,” eren grumbled, reaching out to pinch your sticky cheek. “watch n’ see if i share my deep-fried oreos with you now.”

but there was no heat to his words, his voice honey-warm with affection. you fit together like this, he mused as you ambled through the crowd, bumping hips and cracking jokes. like two oddly shaped puzzle pieces that shouldn't - couldn’t make sense, but somehow formed a complete picture.

a dangerous thought. one he should really fucking know better than to indulge in this deep in.

shaking off the bittersweet ache, eren focused on the flex of your fingers twined with his, the bounce of your hair as you dragged him towards the midway. the deafening musical dings and whistles, the roar of delighted screams filling the muggy air.

true to your word, you thoroughly trounced him at the ring toss, the squirt gun race, the basketball free-throw. but he just laughed at your victory dance, pretending the warmth in his chest was from healthy competition and not the glow of your pretty face.

he did end up winning you that stupid banana at the ‘test your strength’ game though. it took three tries and way more cash than the damn toy was worth, but the sparkle in your eyes when he presented it to you with a victorian bow - fuck, he'd empty his whole wallet to see you make that face again.

“aw, my hero,” you crowed, hugging the prize to your chest. “how can i ever repay you?”

“hmm.” eren tapped his chin, pretending to think as he slung an arm around your shoulders. “lemme’ get a kiss on the ferris wheel n’ ill call it even.”

you gasped in mock outrage, smacking his chest. “asshole. to think i was gonna’ let you have some of my twinkie . .”

his dirty joke in response was swallowed by a yelp as you commenced beating him over the head with the stuffed banana, both of you dissolving into helpless laughter until your sides ached with it. and christ, it felt good. it felt like coming up for air after spending so long beneath dark, crushing waters. like breaking the surface to feel the sun on your face, filling your greedy lungs with sweet, clean air.

he couldn't remember the last time you'd laughed like that. the last time he'd seen you this close to carefree, eyes bright and cheeks aching from smiling.

not for months. maybe longer.

the thought was a cold shard of sobriety in the giddy warmth of the night, a needle scratch on a perfect track. because even now, even with the salty-sour tang of lemonade on your tongue and powdered sugar dusting your chin . . . he could see the shadow behind your eyes. the tightness at the corners of your mouth, the faraway slope of your gaze when you thought he wasn't looking.

“aight’, question time,” he ventured later as you idled in line for the ferris wheel, the colored lights limning your profile in neon blues and pinks. “you look like you wanna’ start swingin.’”

you huffed a small laugh, but it didn't reach your eyes. “that obvious, huh?”

eren just waited, gaze steady on your face. patient. he knew you, knew every twitch and tell like his own heartbeat. knew you'd crack as long as he gave you enough rope.

you sighed, knocking your head back against the metal railing. your voice was soft, almost lost beneath the squeal and clang of the carnival rides. “i dunno, rennie. guess m’ jus’ . . in my head tonight.”

“in your head bout’ what, mama?” he couldn't resist pushing, even though he was pretty sure he already knew the answer. sure enough -

“connie.” you spoke the name like it pained you, your brows pulling together. “m’ worried. we’ve never fought this bad before . . . s’ weird.”

“and you can’t stop thinkin’ about him, hm?” eren fought to keep his tone neutral, his expression calm. even as jealousy rose up to choke him, a living thing with claws in his throat.

you shrugged listlessly, pulling a loose thread on your cutoffs. “i jus’ feel so stuck, y'know? like no matter how shitty it gets, no matter how much we hurt each other . . i can't make myself let go. it's fucked up.”

“hey, no.” eren took your shoulders in his hands, ducking his head to catch your downcast eyes. “s’ not fucked up to care, yn. not fucked up to wanna’ fix something that matters to you.”

‘ . . . even if it kills me to watch you try,’ he added silently. ‘ . . even if i think you deserve so much goddamn better.’

you looked up at him, eyes glassy and bottom lip caught between your teeth. weighing his words, searching for a trap. for a hint of judgment or agenda. he let you look, let you see the sincerity on his face. let you find whatever reassurance you were seeking in the endless wells of his eyes.

“i’m jus’ so tired,” you whispered after a long moment, voice cracking on the admission like a fist through a pain of glass. “of the fighting, the mind games, the whole fuckin' roller coaster. m’ so confused, eren . .”

eren's throat closed up, a familiar ache kicking behind his ribs. “oh, baby, no” he murmured, the endearment slipping out unchecked. “c'mere.”

you sank into his open arms like your strings had been cut, face pressing into the warm crook of his neck. he cradled you close, one broad palm smoothing up the delicate ridge of your spine as the other fisted in your hair.

“i know, mama,” he rasped into your temple, eyes squeezing shut against the sudden burn of tears. “you're gonna be jus’ fine. because you're the strongest girl i know.”

a small, watery laugh shuddered out of you, your fingers curling into his shirt. “flatterer. you're jus’ sayin’ that cause you have to. best friend code of honor and all that.”

“yeah n’ i’ll keep sayin’ it,” he shot back fiercely, giving you a squeeze. “s’ the code. but m’ also sayin’ it cause it's true. i love you . . i’ll only ever tell you the truth.”

he felt like an asshole saying that. especially with knowing the kinda secrecy he was sitting on.

you huffed wetly, burrowing deeper into his chest. let his steady heartbeat soothe you as you breathed him in, the clean salt and smoke and leather of him.

“thank you,” you mumbled after a long moment, the words muffled against his shirt. “for always bein’ there.”

“always, love.” the vow was low and solemn in the humid night air, tangling with pipe organ music and shrieking laughter. “you never gotta’ thank me for that. taking care of you is part of the gig.”

‘even when it's slowly killing me,’ he didn't say. ‘even when every second i'm with you and not with you is its own special kind of agony.’

“still.” you pulled back to grace him with a wobbly smile, eyes red-rimmed but clearer than they'd been all night. “i couldn't do this life shit without you, ren. make’ me really happy.”

eren swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “yeah?” he meant it to come out wry, a gentle tease. but his voice was far too raw for that, scraped bloody on the glass shards of his heart.

something flickered across your face, there and gone too quick for him to catch. but then the ferris wheel lurched to a stop before you, and a pimply ride attendant was impatiently waving you forward into a rickety gondola.

the moment broken, you flashed eren a quicksilver grin, bumping him with your hip. “enough of the heavy shit. get that ass in there and buy me a ticket to the gun show since you claim you can beat me at that too.”

“ohhhh, so you wanna’ talk shit again?” eren growled playfully, chasing you into the tiny, swinging car with fingers hooked into claws.

you shrieked with laughter, batting at his hands as he dug them into your sides, both of you a tangle of flailing limbs and snorting giggles as the wheel cranked to life. and just like that, the strange tension was broken. shattered like a soap bubble on a summer breeze.

but eren could still feel it as he slung an arm around your shoulders, tucking you into his body as you rose into the starry sky. the bittersweet ache, pulsing in time with his heartbeat. the unspoken words, curdling on his tongue, trapped behind his teeth.

he loved you. he was in love with you. so deeply, so consummately, it defied language. it transcended anything as paltry and mundane as a few paltry words.

and he knew, with a soul-deep certainty, you'd never be his. no matter how much his stupid fucking heart liked to play pretend, you'd never look at him the way he looked at you. never crave his touch, his kiss, his love the way he did yours.

you were in love with someone else. and that . . . that was a hurt that no amount of carny music and fried dough could soothe. a loss he'd spend the rest of his life failing to make peace with.

so he just pulled you closer, staring out at the patchwork quilt of lights and color without really seeing it. let your warm, solid weight against his side, the soft puff of your breath on his throat, sear into his memory. a talisman against lonelier nights to come.

but still, a traitorous voice whispered in the back of his head . . under the harvest moon, with the whole world spread out a glittering carpet below, he felt the phantom brush of your mouth on his. the shape of his name, gasped into shared breath like a revelation.

like an answer to a question it was getting harder and harder not to ask.

later, as he white-knuckled the steering wheel, jaw working around all the words he couldn't say, eren tried to console himself that it was enough. that you needed him, wanted him, even if it was for a lesson or only to make the hurt go away for a while. that you'd even seen him, just for a moment, as someone you could lose yourself in. someone you could want.

but it wasn't enough. it would never be enough.

because now you feel it too.

the drive back to your apartment was quiet, the silence heavy with all the things left unsaid. you could only fiddle with your fingers as eren's hands were gripped white-knuckled on the steering wheel, his jaw clenched as he stared straight ahead. you could practically feel the words radiating off him in waves.

you wanted to reach out to him, to smooth the furrow between his brows with gentle fingertips. wanted to tell him that it was okay, that you felt it too - this terrifying, exhilarating thing building between you.

but you didn't. you couldn't.

so you stayed quiet, letting the low crooning of the weeknd fill the space. the music was soothing, a balm to your turbulent emotions.

you let yourself get lost in it, in the sensual rasp of his voice and the pulsing beat. let yourself pretend, just for a moment, that this was all there was - no complications, no messy feelings, no connie waiting for you. just you and eren and the open road, salt-kissed hair whipping in the night breeze as you chased the endless horizon.

but all too soon, reality intruded as eren took your exit. the familiar streets slipped past your window, each one a reminder of the real life you were returning to. the life you weren't sure you fit into anymore.

eren pulled up outside your apartment building, shifting the car into park. for a moment, you both just sat there, staring out the windshield at the silent sidewalks bathed in shadows. you knew you should say something, should thank him for an amazing night and head inside. should gather your things and slip out of the car, out of this moment that felt too momentous, too full of unspoken possibility.

but you couldn't seem to make yourself move, couldn't force the words past the lump in your throat. because this...this felt like a crossroads, a turning point that you weren't ready to face.

beside you, eren took a deep breath, hands flexing on the steering wheel. when he finally spoke, his voice was low and rough.

"i had a really good time tonight. with you."

you swallowed hard, heart kicking against your ribs. "i did too," you managed, barely above a whisper. "it was . . . it was really sweet of you. to do all this for me."

eren nodded, a small, almost sad smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "i meant what i said - that i'd do anything for you." he turned to look at you then, sea-glass eyes finding yours in the darkness. "i love you. y'know that, right?"

your breath caught, eyes twinkling at the same pace as the butterflies in your tummy at his words, "i love you too, eren."

his gaze searched yours, something raw and aching swimming in those depths. slowly, so slowly, he reached out, fingertips grazing the curve of your cheek. you shivered at the contact, eyes fluttering closed. his touch was feather-light, but it felt like a brand. a claim, “what? why you lookin’ at me like that . . ” he spoke, voice cracking on the last word.

"cause i think you’ve earned yourself a g’night kiss," you say in the same tone, "c’mere, rennie . ."

before you could second guess yourself, before you could talk yourself out of it - and before you could even begin to regret, eren closes the distance between you, his lips finding yours in the darkness of his mustang as if he’d been waiting the entire night to do so — and well, that's cause he had.

the kiss was soft at first, gentle, just a whisper of breath and a brush of skin. but it felt like the world tilting on its axis, like a supernova exploding behind your eyes.

eren made a low, almost wounded sound in the back of his throat. his hand slid into your hair, cradling the back of your skull as he angled your head, deepening the kiss. his tongue swept into your mouth and you opened for him immediately, helplessly, a moan rising in your throat. he tasted like salt and sin and something uniquely eren. you wanted to drown in it, in him. wanted to sink into his heat and never come up for air.

your hands fisted in the front of his shirt, tugging him closer as months, years of silent pent-up longing poured out of you. the center console dug into your hip and your seatbelt was biting into your shoulder but you didn't care, you couldn't, not when eren was kissing you like a man starved.

eventually, the dire need for oxygen forced you apart, chests heaving as you blinked at each other in the charged stillness. eren rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, his heart thundering against your palm through the thin cotton of his shirt. "that’s one hell of a way of sayin' g'night, hm?" eren asks, his hands roaming your curves greedily, mapping out the dip of your waist, the flare of your hips, the fat globes of your ass as you climb into his lap. each touch only stoked the inferno building in your veins, your cotton panties growing damp in the middle with evidence of your arousal.

and he must’ve noticed too.

"eren . . i-" you stutter, but he only groans as you begin to grind yourself, hard, against the rigid line of his dick. your nails are still digging into his shoulders, and he’s still moaning as if he’d been punched in the gut until his head falls back against the seat — now he’s looking at you, maybe even looking through you.

"what, baby? what d'you need, hm?" he questions, gently tugging on the waistband of your panties, "c'mon, princess. dont be shy, you can tell me."

you hear those words and begin to think sasha may had been right. maybe it was time to stop overthinking and just . . let yourself feel. let yourself experience. let yourself have this, have him, even if it’s only for a night.

so you do . .

"i wan' it, eren," you breathed, catching his chin and tilting his face back to yours. you held his blown-black gaze, letting him see the resolve there. letting him see how much you wanted this. wanted him. "wan’ you to fuck me again . . please ?"

eren sighs, "we don’t have a condom, my love."

"i don’t really give a fuck about that."

well then, shit. permission granted.

" . . say less."

a thrill danced down your spine at the raw yearning in his voice, the way his hands flexed restlessly against his thighs like it was taking everything in him not to just rip your clothes off himself.

holding his gaze, you slowly peel your bralette to the side - revealing your plumped titties and tossing it carelessly into the backseat. cool air kissed your overheated skin and you shivered, nipples pebbling against the temperature. you almost begin to cross your arms over your chest - shielding yourself out of habit, but eren won’t allow it — "don’t do that. c'mon, mama . . s' nothin' i’ve never seen before." eren’s soft voice fills your ears and the awed hitch in his voice eases any lingering nervousness within you, replacing it with a deep and pulsing want. besides, this far into knowing one another, hiding from him in general just seemed so silly now, pointless.

because how on earth could you ever feel judged when you had someone in front of you who saw you as nothing less than perfection?

this was right.

right?

it felt right.

how could it be anything other than right?

eren's breath caught audibly as you shrugged out of your thoughts, your bare chest rising and falling rapidly under his heated stare. "y-you can touch me," you whispered, half command and half plea. "you don’t have to be gentle anymore . ."

he wasted no time in obeying, big palms coming up to cup the weight of your breasts almost reverently. you sighed at the contact, head lolling back on your shoulders as he kneaded the soft flesh, clever fingers plucking at your nipples until they ached.

"so beautiful," he rasped, thumbs circling the stiff peaks, just enough pressure to make you squirm slightly. "could play wit' 'em for hours, get you all worked up n' desperate jus' from this, huh?" you whined helplessly, arching your back to push further into his touch. "sensitive," you gasped out as he pinched softly, sparks of both pleasure-pain zipping straight to your core. "always so - ah! - so sensitive, i-i dunno why - "

"i know, baby," eren soothed, leaning in to lave over one aching bud with the flat of his tongue. you cried out sharply, hands flying up to sink into his hair. "know everything about you . . know jus' how to touch you, know jus' how to fuck you, know jus' what makes you cum f'me."

he closed his lips around your nipple and sucked hard, just on the right side of too much. and your hips bucked uselessly against him, seeking all of any friction that wasn't there. "wait, wait, wait - eren!"

"shh, don’t fight me," he mumbled around your flesh, rolling the bud between his teeth before releasing it with a wet pop. "gonna' make you feel s'good, love, don't worry." then he was urging you backwards, big, calloused hands gripping your waist to help you shuffle until you were reclined against the passenger side door. you went willingly, eagerly, letting him maneuver you however he wanted. he followed the line of your body, hovering over you propped on one elbow while his other hand skated down your trembling abdomen. and when he reached the waistband of your shorts, he glanced up at you through long lashes, a question you already were familiar with forming in his eyes.

"may i ?"

"yes! yes, yes, hurry," you whimpered, already lifting your hips in silent permission. "p-please - i don’t wanna' beg. don’t m-make me beg . . " a muscle in his jaw ticked, eyes flaring hot as he swiftly popped the button on your jeans and drew down the zipper. his knuckles brushing over your ass as he worked and you keened, already embarrassingly wet for him.

"almost forgot how responsive you are," he praised roughly, dragging your shorts and panties down your legs in one smooth motion. "fuckin' drippin' already, jesus. really missed me that bad?"

"yes," you panted as he tossed your clothes somewhere behind him carelessly, leaving you bare and open to his hungry gaze. "always . . always m-missin' you . . "

"diddo," he promised, shifting to kneel between your parted thighs. "if you hide from me again i’m stoppin' . . got it?"

"y-yes . ."

the urge to ask, ‘yes what?’ almost kills him, but he quickly settles with a wink and a husky, "atta' girl." and then his fingers were on you, parting your slick folds, and coherent thought flew right out the window.

"o-oh," you gasped, hips canting into his touch as he explored your soaked flesh. "oh fuck, yes . ."

eren groans at just how easy his fingers slid into you, walls sucking him in and painting them a pretty white. "aw, baby . . look at that pretty pussy," he rasped, circling your entrance teasingly as creamy sounds start to fill the car. "y'so perfect, fuckin' drenched too - damn . ." you could only moan in response, writhing under his touch as he gathered the slickness at your opening and dragged it up to your aching clit, then quickly smearing it all over your cunt - a few pats from his palm colliding with the sensitive surface. pat pat pat! " . . i stretched you good, didn’t i?" the first pass of his fingers over the swollen nub made you jolt like you'd been electrocuted, a choked cry catching in your throat.

"erenn — y'so m-mean . . stop teasin' me."

"mm, lost your v-card and now you gettin' bratty on me?" eren mused, rubbing slow circles over your clit, just enough pressure to make your toes curl. "yet you the one beggin' to cum on my hand. ain’t that somethin' ?"

"nngh - rennie! f-for realll, i- i can’t! i can’t hold it a-anymore," you managed to rasp, voice thready and thin as his hands worked you over slow and purposeful. "n-not gonna' last, baby, p-please lemme' c-cum . . "

"then do it, m' not stoppin' you," he coaxed, speeding up his fingers. "c'mon, lemme' see. tryna' make me beg for it? hm?" his free hand found your breast again, pinching and tugging at your nipple in time with his ruthless rubbing, the dual sensations hurtling you towards your climax rather fast.

"close! m' close," you whined, back bowing as the tension in your core wound tighter and tighter. "e-eren, m'gonna . . fuuuck, right there!"

"mhm. thas' it," he praised, grinding the heel of his palm against your clit as he pistoned two fingers into your fluttering pussy, curling and dragging them along your insides to complete your, already fucked out, look. "yeah, yn. gimme' all of it. i know you got more." eren continued to work you through it, touch gentling but not letting up, wringing every last aftershock from your quivering body until you collapsed back against the door, boneless and hazy.

"been holdin' that one in, haven’t you," he murmured, withdrawing his fingers slowly, your over-sensitive walls clutching at him greedily as you leave a gooey trail behind you. "don’t think ill ever get tired of seein' that - fuck, n' look at all this . . " he exhales, playing with the remainder of your essence on his fingers before lolling his tongue out of his mouth to lick at them, "leavin' snail trails n' shit. how gross of you. nasty fuck."

you can’t help but laugh once you regain consciousness, swatting at his abdomen all the while unintentionally spreading your legs further apart in a way of politely asking for more, "talkin' shit but you have a cum stain on your pants? bye."

eren’s cheeks go read before his head even whips down near where your finger teasingly points, "mmch . . whatever, bro," he mumbles, looking off to the side as he tries his hardest to fight the dimpled smile on his face.

you then yank on the hem of his shirt, enough to where he's stumbling — hovering over your frame now. and oh, was he so intimidatingly handsome, "hey, i think s' cute. means he likes me."

eren chuckles, "he?" but you don’t laugh. instead, you take the chance to rest your hand on his thigh. you nervously trail your fingertips all the way up until where his zipper begins, doe eyes blinking slowly like a sleepy kitten . .

"yeah . . him," the words come off as a moan the more you stare, cupping his budge in your hand as you begin to rub and tease him through his pants — cause eren wasn’t the only one who could play at that game.

"yn -"

"can i . . can i make you feel good too, rennie?" you ask, nuzzling into the side of his neck. shit, you didn’t really know where the surge of dominance was coming from - but you damn sure weren’t opposed, "lemme' get on top . . please?"

"ion' know about all that."

"mmch - why not? i feel fine, nothin' hurts. why d'you get to be the one to have all the fun . . so annoyin'." your eyes roll, and eren just shakes his head. 'and you, my love, are so stubborn,' he thinks. eren had never been one to turn down the opportunity to be pleasured, but this? were you even ready for that — it’d only been a few days since you lost your virginity. poor dude just didn’t wanna’ hurt you. but now . . the more he thought about it, the only thing he could see is the image of you lowering your ass down on his lap, nails clawing into him as he holds you close in an effort to help you balance.

shit, how can he possibly sit here and tell you no?

so with a deep breath and one last look at your plea, he obliges. llifting abruptly, you squeal when you feel his gentle hands grabbing your hips - "hop in back," he grumbles, and when you do he follows, wasting no time to spin you round' n' press you against the window. with your titties smushed against the glass, you gasp as knees your legs apart, "arch y'back, c'mon. you said you wanted to please me . . let’s go."

"b-but wait, ren i dunno' how to —"

"you'll learn." thick fingers nudge at your thighs, eren taking the time to appreciate the view — and you moan high and needy when you feel his fingers gather some essence from your folds, circling around your clif to warm you up a little bit.

"this all f'me? he murmurs softly in you ear, the rough pad of his fingers painting sticky patterns all over the throbbing flesh, "all this . . jus' cause m' lettin' you be in charge, huh?"

"yes . ." you hiss, grinding back against the hard ridge of him, chasing his touch, "oh p-please, e - s' startin' to hurrt . . . need you."

"gonna' give it to you, baby," he promised darkly, already kneading the fat of your ass in his hands. he wanted to go slow . . he really did, but shit, he just felt so greedy for you, "gonna' make sure you get y'nut off jus' like i do . . ain’t that right?" he says that last part a little quieter — because oh, he needed to talk to her too.

your pussy.

the vice that had you somewhat embarrassed by the sheer amount of wetness pouring from it. it just felt so good — bent over n' spread for him. he knew that. he could tell from the crude curses and raw pleas spilling from your mouth.

"l-lemme' put it in, rennie . ." you shakily ask, and his laugh only makes you wetter.

and just then, he teases . . the front of his pelvis slowly thrusting into your backside - as if he were in you. you writhed impatiently, a lump building in your throat. "o-oh my god," you choked out again. "fuck me, eren. i-i wan' it . . . please?"

"fuck you? thought you wanted to fuck me? now you beggin' like a slut . ." he playfully retorts, and you flinch and keen at the name. slut. slut? hm . . slut. it felt so different, so new, so . . nasty. nasty in the best way — but eren’s completely still. scared, maybe. had he crossed the line? was that too much? too harsh? too weird? who knows . . he hadn’t even noticed the word slip from his mouth until he saw the momentarily stunned look on your face, "o-oh, shit. baby, i didn’t mean that in a bad way - s' jus' some shit i like to say sometimes when i’m really . . into it. m' sorry i —"

"no no, say it again, rennie."

he pauses, lifting his head up from the side of your neck, "w-what? slut? you . . you like that?" he asks, brows scrunched together with a seriousness that you couldn’t help but to giggle over. so with a laugh, you smile, nodding your head as you almost begin to grow fond at the new-found discovery.

"y-yeah, i like that. makes me feel . . i dunno', sexy," you shrug, eren giving giving you one last look — one of consent and . . . dangerous focus.

eren chuckles, "sexy, huh? dont say that jus' cause you wanna' make me feel good." he warns, and there was only a tiny whisper of, 's' okay, i'm sure. i like it, i promise,' left before you look behind you to watch him gently undo his zipper, wiggling out of his pants, then finally his black hannes briefs. then it springs free — his dick. you missed it, the look, the feel. it was so pretty. long, fat, heavy, n' cleanly groomed with an angry red tip that just couldn’t stop leaking even if he tried to make it. and your mouth waters, a newer stream of arousal forming between your legs . .

eren created a monster.

a slut certified, monster.

eren takes your smaller hand in his big one, wrapping it around the thickness of his shaft, "put it in slow . . i don’t wanna' hurt you," you’re taken by surprise when you see him gather saliva in his mouth to spit it where your hands rest together, "stroke it jus' like this a lil' bit," he instructs, moving your hands in a synchronized rhythm before gently removing his grasp and letting you palm it on your own, "mhm, slow . . . up n' down."

"am i doin' it right, eren?" you ask, and he couldn’t have given you a prettier answer.

"y-yeah, baby . . feels s'good, shit." you watch as his gaze his fixed on your motion, and emboldened by the reaction, you decide to experiment by twisting your wrist and running your thumb over the leaking tip. the more you got the hang of it, the confidence entered your body faster than eren could say — " oooh, fuck yeah . . " now bucking his hips involuntarily into your grasp, "ssss' o-okay, okay . . c-chill out, m' not tryna' cum jus' yet, girl."

"that’s what you get for playin' around." you tease, and finally, "now, come on. i wanna' feel you again . . i’ll be good, i'll go slow, n' i'll listen, i promise." and he groans at the desperation in your voice, he loved you so much. god, so so much. it was hurting him. this was hurting him. he knew it would, always had — but that’s just the price he’d have to pay tonight.

"okay . ." he smirks, pushing back any and every logical thought telling him no. telling him that fucking you like this, touching you like this, was only going to dig him deeper, "go ahead . ." you nod, and with a gentle squeeze to your ass, he helps you line himself up with your entrance — the blunt tip of his cock pushing past your stiff ring of muscle.

"a-ah shit, y'so tight," he grunts, staying put as your velvety walls recognize and embrace his length, "relax f'me, angel . . breathe." you do as your told, taking a deep inhale and exhale as you feel him start to push in a little, a bit deeper so that just the tip was sitting within you - splitting you open all over again inch by delicious inch. it burned in the best way possible, your pussy struggling to accommodate to him at this angle.

fuck . . he really was big.

"oh god — e-eren, that f-feels . . different," your voice almost sounds like you’re on the verge of tears as you begin to wiggle your hips a bit to adjust better, your pussy clenching like there was literally no tomorrow, "i-i . . s' so deep already, fuck . ."

eren looks down at you, a look of slight concern washing over him, "s' jus' the tip, mama . . is it too deep? wan' me to take some out?" but that leaves him the minute he watches your eyes roll to the back of your head. oh, it was a good kind of deep, "or . . you wan' some more?" he coos.

"mhm! m-more," you’re happy. so happy that you’re too giddy to wait on him to give it to you. flushed, you slowly move your hips back and forth, taking more - gasping as his dick finally kisses your cervix with each motion. "r-rennie," you cry, picking up the pace as you begin to throw yourself back on his dick - the obscene sound of skin slapping and the churn of your cunt filling the thick air of the car.

the action catches eren by surprise, a choked moan rumbling deep in his chest, "oh fuck — thas' it, princess," he praises, "y-yeah . . . bounce that shit. there you go." as a reward, eren captures your lips with his own, licking into your mouth as he grips both sides of your waist.

lost in pleasure, there’s nothing that you can really do but moan brokenly, bracing your palms against the now foggy window because . . you just couldn’t take it. the more you dragged yourself up and down his dick, the more your walls pulse around him, the more your stomach tightens . . the more you begin to grow closer to your high.

"ren-rennie . . fuck me back," you whine, and he obliged with ease. his hips move, and he starts with slow thrusts meeting you halfway. he watches you, transfixed, your tits bouncing with each roll of your hips. unable to resist, he captures the tip of your ear into his mouth, sucking on the skin and twisting it between his teeth in a pleasurable yet painful bite, "oh my god — right there! right there, eren, oh shiiit," you gasp, head lolled back onto his shoulder, drooling, as he delivers nothing but the deepest strokes he could.

"yes. take that dick . . you f-fuckin' slut." you can feel his potency, his dominance starting to really fade into view, "take. it. all." the snap of his hips was brutal, and from then on, the gentle dynamic between you shifts, and you find yourself reveling in the authority. submitting.

submitting to him.

"nnn — s' so good . . m' y-your slut, only your s-slut, only f'you," you slur, drunk from pure pleasure. eren groans at the praise, his rhythm faltering for a moment before resuming his punishing pace with renewed vigor.

"y'like bein' nasty, huh? like h-havin' me split this pussy open on my dick? i know m' gonna' make you cum soon. i feel it, mama — grippin' me like you never wanna' let me go."

it’s true. the grip you had on him was crucial, crucial enough for you to believe that eren had completely ruined you, "n-never," you reply to his words, "wan' you i-inside me always," oh great, and you’re babbling now too. so far gone you couldn’t even censor yourself, your thoughts, your want.

eren's gaze locks onto your pleading one, feeling the urgency in your voice. the way you were moaning for him as his hands glided possessively over your form, memorizing each and every contour and curve as if it were the first time all over again. "you’re a f-fuckin' masterpiece," he breathes out softly, overwhelmed by the thought of really, truly, making you his. "cum for me, angel," he urges, voice strained with the effort of holding back his own release, "p-please cum for me . ."

those exact words push you over the edge, and you cum with a silent scream, your walls clamping down, wave after wave of intense pleasure crashing over you — stealing the breath right from your lungs and making your pretty, french tipped toes curl. and through the haze of your climax, you feel him too, thrusts now erratic.

"get there, rennie . ." you encourage dizzily, "cum in m-me. now. please - let me h-have it . . i been s'good." in you? like in you, in you? girl are you crazy?

well, the answer was yes.

and he was crazier.

wrapping huge hands around the front of your neck - pulling you back on his dick to use you like a fucktoy, he brought your foreheads together as he began to piston into you, powerful hips driving his body in a relentless, deep-dicking rhythm. "never." he emphasized each word with a brutal thrust and grind. "gonna'. want. anyone. like. i. want. you."

you could only wail in response, still clinging on to the solidity of the door as he picked you apart with brutal efficiency. your pussy was gushing constantly now, cream squelching out to paint the both of your thighs with each hammering impact of his pelvis on yours. that molten coil in your core pulled taut as a bowstring, quivering on the very edge of snapping.

eren didn’t have time to protest. he was too far gone, so much so that if he weren’t — the next words leaving his mouth would’ve never seen the light of day. not in a billion years. "f-fuck! fuck, baby m' cummin', m' cummin' f'you - fuuuuck yes! hngh - i lov-love you, i love you so fuckin' much, yn . ." his words trail off, and with one last guttural moan, he slams a final time before stilling, his cock throbbing as he spills his cum deep in the depths of your womb.

but you’re still for other reasons. reasons like . . the phrase that just escaped from his mouth. what did he say, love? eren . . loved you? like, really loved you? no, you must’ve misheard him. you must’ve been so out of it that the ‘lust’ section in your brain had you dreaming cause . . that wasn’t a part of the plan.

it was never a part of the plan.

"w-wait, what did you just say?" you whisper, your heart pounding in your ears as the weight of eren's words sink in. the hazy afterglow of your passionate encounter evaporates in almost an instant, replaced by a cold, creeping dread.

eren blinks at you, his expression a mix of both confusion and uncertainty. "i uh . . i said that . . i love you," he repeats, reaching out to cup your cheek with a trembling hand. "cause i do . . love you, yn."

you jerk away from his touch as if burned, causing him to flinch. you then scramble away from his grasp, hurriedly grabbing for your discarded clothes with shaking hands. "no," you cut him off, your voice high and thin with panic. "no, no, no . . you don't get to say that to me. not now, not like this, not ever."

eren sits up, pulling his boxers up on his waist as he watches you yank on your underwear and top with jerky, uncoordinated movements. "yo - wait yn, hol' up," he pleads, his voice rough with . . something similar to grief. he was losing you, he knew he was, "hey, c'mon. shit — please, can we jus' talk about this?"

"there's nothin' to talk about, eren," you snap, refusing to meet his gaze as you fumble with the buttons of your jeans. your skin feels too tight, your lungs constricted, like you can't get enough air. "this was supposed to be just sex, remember? you were supposed to be teaching me, helping me learn . . this wasn’t what we agreed on."

"fuck what we agreed on, yn. i can’t control how i feel about you," eren counters, frustration bleeding into his tone. he rakes a hand through his tousled hair, jaw clenched tight. "is it really that fuckin' crazy to think that i like you - that i love you?"

you flinch at his words, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. "yes," you whisper, hating the way your voice cracks. "yes, it is crazy, eren. i'm with connie. i love connie, and he loves me. what we've been doing . . . it was never supposed to be anything more than physical."

eren stares at you for a long moment, something like heartbreak flashing in his eyes before he looks away. "sounds more like you tryna' convince yourself that thats jus' what it was, to me," he says hollowly, a muscle ticking in his jaw. "but, of course. how could i forget? i was just a fuck, right?" guilt churns in your stomach, sharp and acidic. you never meant to hurt eren, hell no. you never wanted your friendship to get so complicated, but in your desperation to be a somewhat ‘better girlfriend’ to connie, to figure out how to satisfy him, to please him, you'd let things go too far.

"that’s not fair," you whispered, eyes over-bright. "i never had that intention. y'know damn well that i care about you — the both of you!"

"do i?" he snapped before he could stop himself. "cause from where m' sitting, it looks a whole lot like you jus' got done fuckin' me n' havin' the best nut of your life, only to go runnin' back to your dickhead boyfriend the second shit gets real."

your mouth fell open, shocked anger and betrayal twisting your features. "y'know what, fuck you, eren! you don't get to judge me, not about this! you knew what this was, you knew i had unfinished business —"

"unfinished business?" he croaked out a laugh, eyes stinging and throat gone tight. "is that what we callin' it now? silly me, i thought maybe, just maybe, you were ready to cut the cord on that bitch ass loser tonight. guess you had other ideas the whole goddamn time."

tears were welling in your eyes now and it killed him, ripped at his fucking heart to see you hurting because of him. but he couldn't stop, the hurt and rage and crushing disappointment was just pouring out of him like blood from a wound.

"the trip," he bit out, fighting to keep his voice steady. "you still plannin' on goin' with him?"

you looked away, fingers twisting together in your lap. "well now i don't fuckin' know. maybe i will."

maybe. that single word cracked through eren's chest like a gunshot, shattering the fragile hope that had been kindling there all night. fuck, but he'd really thought . . . after what you'd just shared, the soul-deep connection, he'd really let himself believe you would choose him. would finally see how it was always supposed to be him.

but no. yet again, connie came first. your history, your obligation to the familiar . . . it won out over everything. over him.

over what could've been.

"maybe, huh?" he scoffs, and just as he’s about to try and say something else, something that could persuade you to maybe think twice, the thought leaves as quickly as it arrives.

because your phone is ringing.

and when you don’t even take a chance to hesitate to fish it out, eren catches a glimpse of the caller ID, his stomach plummeting to his toes. connie. of fucking course.

he watched, something bitter and ugly unfurling in his gut, as you bit your lip and accepted the call with a shaky, "h-hey, what's up?" angling yourself away from him as connie's gruff voice emanated from the speaker, mouth set in a tight line. eren couldn't really make out what was being said, but from the stricken look on your face and the way you were suddenly scrambling for the rest of your belongings . . he could only take a wild fuckin' guess.

you were leaving him, again.

eren made a low, disgusted sound, but you couldn't look at him. couldn't bear to see the betrayal that would undoubtedly be painted across his face.

connie's voice filled your ear once more, slightly tinny but painfully familiar. "hey babe. jus' wanted to y’know. . check in, see what you were up to. we didn’t really get to text much earlier while you were in class so . . ."

you closed your eyes, guilt and confusion and residual longing warring in your gut. "yeah. i mean, s' fine. i'm . . i'm okay."

"yeah? that's good." a pause, heavy with unspoken thoughts. "i miss you. been thinkin' bout' you all night."

another cry threatened to bubble out of your throat. if only he knew what you'd been doing mere minutes ago. who you'd been doing.

"i miss you too," you heard yourself say, the words automatic. empty.

beside you, eren sighs. when you chanced a glance at him, his face was a mask of bitter resignation. as if he'd expected this — cause deep down, he knew he had.

"you still comin' over?" connie asked, oblivious to the turmoil roiling in your chest. "to talk things out, remember . . i jus' — this shit been heavy on my mind, y'know?"

your stomach bottomed out, panic and indecision clawing at your throat. this was it. the moment of truth. you could tell him no, could go back, choose eren and the sweetly blooming possibility he represented. could finally break the chains of habit that kept you tethered to a love that had long since soured.

or you could do what you always did. could fall back into the familiarity of connie's arms, his promises, his inevitably recycled bullshit. could put off the terrifying unknown of a real future for the dubious comfort of a shitty past.

in the end, cowardice won out. you were too weak, too scared, to seize your own happiness with both hands. not when the alternative was so ingrained, so automatic.

you hated yourself even as the words spilled from numb lips.

"okay. yeah, we can . . we can still talk. jus' gimmie' a few minutes to um, get ready."

you hang up, and you felt more than broken when you see eren go stiff, a full body reaction like your words had finally killed him. but you could only watch helplessly as he slowly withdrew from you, his warm hand and steadiness receding like the tide in the waves you saw earlier at the pier.

he was already reaching for the door handle on your side, already putting distance between your bodies as if he couldn't stand to be near you a second longer.

"get out," he said flatly, his voice devoid of inflection. cold in a way you'd never heard him direct toward you before.

"what," you whispered brokenly, your heart shattering behind your ribs. "we aren’t done with this conversa -"

"i said get the fuck out!" he roared, frustratedly slamming a palm against the steering wheel. "go run back to your sorry ass excuse of a boyfriend, yn. go let him break your heart for the millionth goddamn time when you go on that trip. jus' don't expect me to be here to pick up the pieces when he does."

tears were flowing freely down your face now, each word out of his mouth a barbed blade in your chest. "you don’t mean that. n-not at all. please, can we just-"

"no. no more talkin'. no more fuckin' excuses, man." his eyes finally met yours and the anguish there, the rage and sorrow, stole the breath from your lungs. "i'm done. i'm so fuckin' done being your backup plan, your shoulder to cry on when shit goes south. i can't — i won't do it anymore."

"eren," you choked out, but he just shook his head.

"go," he gritted from between clenched teeth. "go and don't look back because i can promise you this, i won't be here waitin' when you realize what a stupid fuckin' mistake you've made."

it’s quiet, so quiet you feel like the only thing you can say is . .

"i hate you. i absolutely fuckin' hate you."

"diddo."

a sob wrenched from your throat but you fumbled for the door anyway, spilling out onto the sidewalk on quaking legs. the apology, the desperate plea, withered and died on your tongue as he peeled away from the curb with a screech of rubber, not sparing you a second glance.

you watched his taillights disappear around the corner, feeling like your still-beating heart had just been carved right from your chest. like you'd been disposed, scraped clean and left raw and aching.

with wooden limbs, you made your way up the walk and fumbled with your keys, barely seeing through the veil of tears and lash clusters that even a 'two week hold' glue couldn’t save. somehow you managed to let yourself into the dark apartment, nothing but the dim light of sasha's favorite sit-com rolling in the background.

"hey babes," she groggily says, rising from the couch with a yawn, "fell asleep waitin' on your ass — woah, are you . . are you crying?"

only once the door closed behind you did you let yourself crumple next to her, heaving sobs wracking your frame as you fall into her embrace, "honey, oh my goodness . . what happened?" you cried like you were bleeding out, like you'd just lost the most important thing you'd never even really had.

you didn't know how long you laid there, cheek pressed to sasha's chest, tears and snot and self-recrimination soaking into her pajamas.

long enough for the moon to track slowly across the sky, silver and uncaring.

long enough for the sun to come up, sasha sleeping — but your eyes still so open.

long enough to realize that you’d done it.

you’d actually lost him.

©️ SATORUBI - please do not copy, translate, or modify my work without my approval ! thank you for playing . . the challenge has only just begun.

#🎀 — www.satorubiwrites #AGGHHHHHHHHHHYH #i’m nervous bye i’m leavin #please rn #eren yaeger x reader #eren yaeger smut #eren x you #eren x fem!reader #eren x black fem #eren x black reader #snk smut #snk eren #banner inspired by the lovely @/kithsune 🤍

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wandixx · 1 day

Text

Danny, the Young Justice member snippet nr 1

these snippets aren't connected in anyway but just some little scenes I came up with, everyone is welcome to build up on them if they want to

“Thank you, young man,” elderly man, a civilian, said to Phantom, squeezing his shoulder when the boy transported him away from the battle into an established safe zone. Hero froze for a moment, blinking rapidly.

“You’re… welcome?” he squeaked and flew back to fight the first chance he got, still dazed.

He was lost in thought the whole time he worked after that, rescuing some teen girls too curious, brave and stupid to run away on their own when they still had a chance. If Kid Flash didn’t warn him, one of the goons would land a really nasty hit, which should not have happened. Phantom had one of the best combat spatial awareness out of all of them. He couldn’t always react in time, but it almost never escaped him that an attack was coming.

Something was wrong. Really wrong.

That was why, as soon as the fight was over, Kaldur approached his teammate. He saw Robin doing the same.

Phantom, to give him credit where credit is due, didn’t fly away from the scene first given chance like always. Instead he sat in the space where they were transporting civilians, hand on his right shoulder, unseeing eyes locked on some cracks in the pavement. His mouth was moving without making a sound. He was covered in dust, like all of them.

“Phantom,” Kaldur asked through Mindlink “are you injured?”

Ghost flinched and turned his head, giving the leader a shaky smile. His eyes were still distant.

“Yeah, no, I’m alright. Sorry I was so out of it. Thanks for the rescue Wally, "the boy replied but his eyes slowly turned back to where he was staring before. Other than that, he hadn't moved.

“Phantom, what’s wrong?” Robin tried, both out loud and through Mindlink. Now the whole Team was concerned.

“It's nothing, really,” Phantom answered with a distant tone.“ Just… something weird happen and I need a moment to wrap my head around it”

“What was it?” Artemis asked bluntly before Conner did the Mindlink equivalent of smack on the back of a head. It was a bit weird to see Conner as the sensitive one. Black Canary was doing a great job with helping him over his anger.

“Let him process it on his own before you demand answers,” he growled.

“Adult civilian thanked me,” the ghost mumbled with awe at the same time. For a moment everyone froze in muted shock.

This explained so much while being so confusing. Yes, civilians tended to do it. It felt great. It didn’t warrant such an intense reaction.

“That's nice,” M’gann sent carefully after a long moment.

“Mhm… Really nice”

Kaldur slowly put a hand on the arm Phantom wasn’t holding, to help ground him a bit. Despite his efforts, the ghost flinched under his touch.

“We need to go to a bioship and back to the Mountain. You should probably come with us”

He expected a fight, he had various ideas how to convince younger boy but instead he heard quiet, small “Sure”

Ghost didn’t move for a long moment.

“Phantom?” Robin asked and again, the response was a violent flinch.

“Sorry, sorry. I know it’s dumb I’m just-” he transmitted some sort of lowering melody that Kaldur didn’t know “-right now”

“Did you just send Windows XP shutting down noise?!” Wally yelled, exasperated.

“He did,” Robin snorted. Artemis laughed from one of the surrounding rooftops.

Phantom’s lips twitched with a minimal smile but it disappeared before it fully set. His brows furrowed as he stood up, shrugging Kaldur’s hand off in the process.

“Is this publicly known that I’m a ghost? Like, outside Amity? Or do people just assume I’m a meta?”

“Around 3% of discourse about you is ‘alive or not’-”Robin stated after few seconds of searching n his wrist computer “-with people saying stuff like ‘I’ve seen him breathe’ but everyone else responds with some variation of ‘Are you really going to tell kid how he’s supposed to cope with being dead? Really Jared?’ and the general consensus is that you are in fact a ghost. More people wonder what pronounce you use. Why?”

Phantom said nothing. Kaldur exchanged worried glances with Robin and called everyone else to meet by the bioship. It was a successful but tiring mission and they all wanted nothing more than to relax. After debrief because of course Batman would find things that could’ve gone better.

M’gann and Wally were already waiting by the time they got there. Martian was stiff and looked like she was focusing on some really hard task. She almost shut down the Mindlink.

“Phantom, your thoughts are really loud” she whispered out loud “Louder than normal ghost thoughts. I’m trying not to listen or to transmit it on Mindlink but it’s pretty hard. What’s wrong?”

Kaldur remembered the conversation they all had almost right after Phantom joined the Team. As it turned out, ghosts as ‘the beings of emotions’ had thoughts that Martians could read but on different frequencies than living, whatever that meant, and they were really loud. Like they were screaming on the top of their lungs.

Asphalt creaked ominously when Conner jumped down to join them.

“Sorry”

M’gann relaxed minutely before she got visibly angry.

“I don’t mean ‘shield everything’ Phantom, it’s extremely unhealthy, explain what’s wrong?!”

“Seriously guys, you’re all overreacting. It’s not that deep. I'm just weirded out a bit”

“Your brain was screaming ‘It doesn’t make sense!’ on repeat” M’gann pointed out dryly, ending the Mindlink and motioned them inside the bioship right after Artemis scrambled down a fire escape and joined them.

Phantom skillfully ignored the concerned gazes of every member of the Team other than M’gann who at least pretended to focus on flying. He looked like he was trying to figure out some really complicated puzzle.

“What did this civilian say, exactly?” Robin asked, breaking the silence with a surprising amount of caution in his voice.

“He said ‘Thank you, young man’ and squeezed my shoulder,“ the ghost explained with a wistful and a bit hazy smile. It still didn't justify such an intense reaction “I can still feel it. T’was nice. Not strong enough to hurt but… sure? I didn’t do anything, really, and he most likely knows I'm a ghost, but he thanked me anyway. No sense”

Halfway through Robin seemed to get an idea and once again started typing away on his computer. Phantom sunk into his seat more comfortably, but he quickly returned to distressed overthinking.

“People rarely make sense,” Conner pointed out.

“Nah, you just can't people yet” Wally grinned between bites of his granola bar.

“Nah, you're just an extrovert with superpowers. People make no sense,” Artemis decided in a way that ended all arguments “But gratitude after rescue is pretty typical…”

“Not for Phantom“

“What do you mean, Robin?”

“He means, I'm a ghost, Kaldur,” Phantom started “Of course they're not thanking me. I'm an ‘odd, manipulative and evil manifestation of post-living consciousness on ectoplasm‘ and ‘always hostile towards living but lack the sentience to comprehend moral aspects of my behavior‘ and ‘should be eradicated for betterment of the living realm’.” he recited almost cheerfully and it made something in Kaldur’s stomach twist. Judging by their faces, his teammates felt the same way.

“You don’t actually believe that, do you?” M’gann asked carefully.

“It doesn’t matter if I believe this or not. They do. Why would anyone thank me? Especially an adult. Teens apparently decided I'm hot so they support me, which is also weird, and kids think I'm cool because of the ectoblasts and can fly. They usually gush about being saved like ‘omg it’s Phantom’ which is still weird but not as surreal as anyone actually thanking. But that dude was probably on retirement. He wasn’t someone I would expect to have any positive interaction with. Most people his age would try to exorcize me or something”

“That certainly isn’t an aster”

“Eh, I’m fine. Most are just yelling. Problems start when anti-ghost weapons, especially guns, get on the table but I can’t blame them for that one too”

“Dude, I cannot express how far from fine this is”

“You deserve gratitude Phantom” Kaldur added “You’re doing a lot of great work”

“If you say so”

“Also, can we go back to the guns? How often do the people you’re saving try to shoot you?” Artemis asked, raising her head from inspecting her arrows.

“Amity Park is to ghost hunters what Gotham is to crime rates in the USA. Should not be counted if you want something actually similar to reality. Of course they have guns to shoot ghosts. And, let me remind you, I am a ghost-”

“I think we can talk about it another time. How do you feel, Phantom?” M’gann interrupted from her seat, intensly not looking back at them. She once again was tense.

“Still weird as hell to be honest”

“Good weird or bad weird” she pressed on. Kaldur kinda wanted to know what made her do that.

“Good… I think? I know a lot of emotions because I hang out with Jazz Fenton and she pshychoanalizes everyone but I have no idea what to call this. I’m happy that he said this, ecstatic even. But I’m still confused and cautious. Some part of me keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop, for this man to come back, after realizing I’m evil ghost and call hunters and call me manipulative ecto-scum while looking me in the eyes and smile when I’m shot at”

“Did this happen? It’s a bit too specific to believe it didn’t” Wally announced.

“As if only once!” Phantom laughed in an almost hysterical way.

“Don’t think about it right now,” M’gann demanded “Do you want to tell us more about the thanks you got?”

Next words Phantom whispered as if he was sharing some important, sacred secret.

“When he squeezed my arm, it was such a gentle gesture. Such a gentle touch” he sounded on the verge of tears.

“Was it?”

“Yeah... Sorry I’m such a mess over it” ghost muttered after a moment, trying to dry his face with his sleeve. It couldn’t be too helpful nor pleasant, considering his uniform was made mostly out of rubber.

“That’s alright”

“He was so kind and like… cautious too, y’know? Like he cared to not hurt me. When my dad pats me on the back, I’m left out of breath and have to do a few steps to not fall face first on the ground and he thinks I’m normal,” it was always a bit disturbing to hear Phantom talk about his family in present tense. They never mentioned it because they knew when it was bad idea to say something but it didn’t make these instances any less unnerving“And this random civilian seen me as Phantom, almost invulnerable and powerful ghost and chose to be gentle”

Nobody mentioned tears dropping from Phantom’s eyes and down his chin.

“That sounds nice”

“It was. And I, like an idiot, stuttered ‘you're welcome’ and escaped as soon as I could” ghost grumbled, bringing himself back from the memory. Robin actually laughed, honest and open instead of the creepy giggle he used on all sorts of villains. Everyone else soon joined and between breaths someone choked out:

“I did this so many times. So many. I could probably buy a lollipop if I got a cent every time I did it. Maybe even two”

As soon as they weren’t at immediate risk of laughing to death Robin decided to risk it again by starting a captivating tale of clueless Batman holding a baby, getting pie as a present, getting pie in his face and few others.

When he finished, the comfortable type of silence stretched through the Bioship. Everyone was just contently resting, maybe even taking a nap before the ordeal of listening to Batman's ‘Every mistake you made today with sub and sub-sub categories’ lecture while keeping themselves from laughing after all the stories Robin just shared. Kaldur himself was almost asleep when Phantom whispered:

“Is it this nice the second time too?”

“Yeah. It’s even better when you start believing it”

#dpxdc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dp x dc #dp x yj #No Danny didn't tell the team he's a halfa #not yet #i have no idea what the timeline is here but i think it's pretty early for both Danny and YJ #like they all still have barely any idea how this whole heroing and working in team thing works #i think Phantom rarely comes to actual base because he's busy in Amity #they cut him some slack because everyone knows it's a mess and JL is still working on some way to resolve it #since they can't just send Superman there whenever problem arrises because magic is his weaskness #but Danny still has communicator to call help if he needs it and he joins missions when he can #it's nice to have peers who understand the struggle of being teenage hero #even if they struggle aren't all the same #anyway #wandixx writes #have a nice day dear stranger who got to this part

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lesservillain · 23 hours

Text

inmate!eddie munson x teacher!reader

cw: smut, miscommunications

January 19th, 1995

“And when you take the line that Romeo-”

With ten minutes left in class, you were suddenly interrupted by a knock on the door. All eyes turn to see Mr.Bridges standing with his bright smile and a crisp new tie. He gives a friendly wave and stands there waiting for you to greet him. He gets the hint when you give him a questioning look.

“Hell, all! I hope you had a good holiday season,” he waves, a stack of envelopes in his hand. You did your best to keep your excitement contained, watching his hand as he made his way to you, “I have your newest letters here. And I just want to say that the boys at the jail loved the cards, guys. You all wrote some very nice things and they all had a light in their eyes when they read them.”

When you went to grab the stack from his hands, he stopped you, stepping close enough to whisper. “Can I talk with you in the hallway for a moment, please?” Your heart raced at how serious his tone was. Nodding, you let the class know you’d be stepping out, and to do some self study in the meantime. Mr.Bridges closed the door behind you, clearing his throat before turning to face you.

“Is everything okay? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you not smiling. It’s kind of creeping me out.” You joke, trying to lighten the tense vibes this interaction is giving.

He looks down and the ground for a moment before looking back up to you, “So, I have some bad news. About one of the inmates.”

Your heart dropped to your ass.

“W-what happened?”

“There was an…incident over the holidays,” he starts, “one of the inmates was attacked and, unfortunately, didn’t survive.”

Your head reeled back, suddenly dizzy. He kept speaking before you could think much more.

“We don’t know how it happened, but we are looking into making sure that our security measures don’t let it happen again. But,” he perks up again, easily slipping back into his sunny disposition, “in the meantime, that means you don’t have to worry about writing to your inmate anymore!”

Oh, god you wanted to puke.

“E-Eddie died?” You could barely get out the words and your vision started to go blurry as tears welled up in your eyes.

“What, oh, no, another inmate,” he said nonchalantly, “Eddie’s fine, but he’s just going to be reassigned to the student who had the inmate who passed. Wasn’t very happy when we told him about the switch, but when we told him that you weren’t super keen on the whole project to begin with, his tune seemed to change.”

It was too much coming at you all at once. It felt like the worst case of the spins. Relief hit first, and then mortification. Bridges was talking but you couldn’t hear the words. He handed you the stack of letters as the students started pouring out of the classrooms before disappearing amongst the crowd.

The rest of the morning you were in a funk. Only on your lunch break were you finally able to sit down and process everything. Eddie is alive. A positive. Eddie probably hates you. A negative. Anger bubbled in your body. Why would they even tell him about your disapproval for the program anyway? Sure, you had your reservations, but you’ve had a change of heart in the last few months.

“Fuck,” you bury your face in your hands and run them down to your neck. The stack of envelopes sit on your desk. You’re not sure which student got Eddie in the mix, so you flip through the envelopes to see if the handwriting looks familiar. Sure enough you see a name in the familiar chicken scratch handwriting. You sit back in your chair with a huff, throwing the envelopes on your desk.

Tears started to fall. You looked up to the ceiling to try and cease their descent but it was too late.

It’s always just when it starts to get good that it’s all ripped away from you. Just when you started getting good at soccer, you broke your foot. Just when your dad started coming around, he relapsed and ran off again. Just when you got to see your moms face light up when she found out she was getting her first grandchild, you had a miscarriage. Just when you thought your life was going to be normal for once in your life, your husband had to have an affair. And just when you thought you had something in your life to look forward to, that was taken away from you, too.

“Hey, Marcus ordered pizza, it’s in the breakroom-” The chipper voice of Mr.Clark made you jump, bringing your sleeved wrists to your eyes to hide the evidence. “Woah, hey, what’s going on? Did Carl Thompson try to set his paper on fire again? I told Ester that he needed to be searched when he gets off the bus in the morning.”

You let out a light chuckle at his attempt at humor, though there was some truth in his words…Regardless, you just shake your head and give him the best smile you can muster. “No, not today, Scott. I’m just, um, still a little emotional from the holidays?”

“Ah, yeah, I get it,” he nods his head in solidarity, “I was pretty blue after Jen left. Still not much better, really.” The thousand yard stare he gives as he says those last words make you feel a little concerned for him in the moment. You give him a look, and he instantly goes back to his normal self, “But, hey, it does get better. Valentines day probably wont help,” his eyes widen in momentary distress, “but, the staff usually have a little party at Bennigan’s, so that will be fun!”

You just nod your head, “Yeah, sure, sounds like fun…”

There’s a moment of awkward silence before Scott tsks and slowly starts moving out of the doorway to your classroom. “Well, yeah, anyway, uh, pizza’s in the breakroom.” Then he’s gone.

You wait a moment before letting out a laugh you desperately needed.

January 21st, 1995

“Open up, you’re not skipping out on another weekend!”

A groan pours from your chest, muffled by the pillow you’ve got your face buried in. Another knock comes from the front door, Robin’s voice booming from the other side.

“Alright, alright!” You barely lift yourself from the couch to lean over the arm, twisting the knob of your front door to let your beloved friends in. As they make their way inside, you twist your body to look at the clock on the stove, but your vision is too blurry to see. “What time is it?”

“Nine in the morning,” Steve says as he lifts up your feet to sit at the end of your couch, placing them back in his lap, “we’re going to brunch, then we’re hitting up the mall. Robin is in desperate need of a new pair of shoes.”

“I’m pretty sure I have the back of an 80 year old. Probably from carrying the weight burden of being Steve’s only friend.”

Your whole body shakes from laughter, Steve’s face only making you laugh harder, “You are not my only friend!” He gestures to you, still laying on the couch, boneless in you lack of effort to peel yourself from the couch, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Robin.

“Oh, yeah, this barnacle of a human is totally worth calling your friend,” She says jokingly as she grabs your arm in an attempt to pull you from the couch.

“Hey,” you say defensively before starting to maneuver yourself upright, “I still move around. If I’m any sea creature I’m at least a starfish.”

“Pardon me, I’ll make sure to properly address you next time.”

After getting properly dressed and piling into Steve’s car, you let them drag you around to brunch, letting yourself have a few mimosas and eating enough appetizers that you barely touch the food you ordered.

At the mall, you let Steve and Robin drag you from store to store. They stop and laugh at the empty spot in the food court where their old ice cream job used to be before it caught fire (neither of them would tell you how it caught fire). Eventually, Steve ran to the bathroom, leaving you and Robin to wander around the mall.

“Why don’t you get yourself something nice?” She nudged you, tilting her head in the direction of a fancy underwear store, her eyebrows wiggling suggestively.

You scoff, rolling your eyes, “Why? Who am I gonna wear it for? You and Steve?”

Her shoulders shrug, “Hey I’m not complaining. But, you never know. Love will soon be in the air, and maybe you’ll get asked out on a date. Wouldn’t it be nice to wear something cute like that,” she points to a mauve coloured bra and panty set on one of the mannequins in the window, “rather than the same $2 pack of granny panties and K-Mart bra all the time?”

“Are you suggesting I’m going to be putting out on the first date?” You look at her with a deadpan expression.

“Hey, I’m not judging,” her hands go up defensively, “But, you’d probably feel better knowing that if you did get lucky, at least you came prepared.”

Looking into the store, then back to your friend, who gives you the best convincing face she can muster, you slump your shoulders and make your way into the store. You try on a few things, using Robin’s expert opinion to find something that pops on your colour wise and fits your body’s curves the best.

When you emerge from the store after making your purchase, you find Steve sitting on a bench a few feet away, eyes scanning around him. Once his eyes meet the two of you, he jumps from his seat and makes his way over.

“What the hell, you guys totally disappeared on me!”

“Relax mother bear,” Robin pats Steve on the back, “We just wanted to make a quick pit stop before we go.”

Steve eyes the bag in your hand when you lift it up for him, and his cheeks get a dusting of pink to them. “Ah, I see. Well, I guess that means we’re ready to go then?”

After making one more stop on the way home to pick up dinner, the three of you settled on Steve’s couch. Just as he went to take his spot next to Robin, the phone rang. Steve lets out a groan before making his way into the kitchen. “Harrington’s residence,” he says with his fake customer service voice, you and Robin to stifle your giggles. His face goes from annoyed to wide eyed, and a smile blooms across his face.

“You mean tonight?” He asks, eyes flicking over to yours for a moment, “Yeah, yeah, we’re just about to watch a movie, but it can wait. Do you know what time? No, no it’s fine, I know you’re busy, sir.”

Steve looks at his watch and nods his head. “Yeah, okay. We’ll be right here when he does. Thanks, Mr. Munson. Bye-bye.”

You feel your eyes go wide. Munson? Steve answers your questions before you can even think to ask them.

“So, Eddie is gonna call in, like,” he looks at his watch again, “20 minutes. His uncle said he meant to call sooner but hadn’t had the chance,” he looks at you with a quirked brow, “Is that going to be okay? You don’t have to be in the room when we talk to him if you don’t want to-”

“No, no, I’ll be fine!” You wave your hands, “Don’t do anything different on my account.”

“Are you sure?” Robin’s voice has a more teasing tone compared to Steve’s.

“Yeah, no, it’s cool,” you sit back on the couch, trying to disguise your nerves, “Just…pretend I’m not here.” Your attention is now on the cuticles on your nails, and you miss the look of mischief on Robin’s face, along with Steve’s nod in return.

To avoid the awkwardness that started to build, you jumped up from Steve’s couch and made your way to his fridge to get a drink. Taking a long sip, you almost drop the bottle entirely when the sound of the phone ringing again makes you jump.

A lump in your throat forms, and you feel butterflies instantly in your stomach. Shit, is that sweat on the back of your neck? You watch as Robin springs up from the couch and makes her way to stand next to Steve. When Steve picks up the phone a woman’s voice can be heard on the other end. He gives a short “yes” and the phone is quiet for a moment. Robin looks at you from over Steve’s shoulder with a smile. Then, you can hear a voice.

“Hello?”

Robin and Steve adjust themselves so that the phone is between both of their ears. “Hey, Eddie,” Robin says with a cheerful enthusiasm.

“Sup, man,” Steve says cooly, “How’s it going?”

Your heart flutters when you hear a soft laugh from the speaker of the phone.

“Same thing, different day. Been trying to keep myself occupied. Old man got sent to solitary again so I had to be on my toes last week. But,” he said the last word with a sing-songy voice, “I did get some good news.”

Robin and Steve look at each other, visible excitement in their eyes.

“Did you get a set date?” Robin’s ask, becoming excited and pulling the phone closer to her ear. Steve pulls it back and gives her a look.

“Yep! Only five more miserable months and then I’m a free man,” you can hear the relief in Eddie’s tone as he practically shouts into the phone. Whoops and hollers come from your two friends as they bounce around in front of you. You can’t help but feel excited for him too, eyes meeting with Robin in mutual excitement.

“That’s so awesome man,” Steve laughs into the phone, “just in time for your birthday, too.”

“Oh, yeah! We’re definitely going to terrorize the Hideout,” Robin says.

“You have no idea how much I’m looking forward to it. Can’t wait to drink with the kids, too,” Eddie laughs.

The three of them continue their back and forth for a few minutes, talking about their mutual friends and what shenanigans that they can all get into.

“Hey, are they doing a rose festival this year?”

You perk up at this, still standing idly by and sipping on your beer. Robin notices and smirks, “Yeah, I think so. Why do you ask?”

“I’ve been thinking about it for a couple months. You remember that pen pal thing I was telling you guys about?”

Now both sets of eyes are on you. A slight blush covers your cheeks, and you feel your heart beating faster.

“Oh, yeah, with that teacher? Are you still doing that?” Steve winks at you. You look at him wide eyed, mouthing “what the fuck” but he just brushes you off.

Eddie’s tone shifts, “Still writing letters, but not to her.” There’s a clear malice in his voice. Like just the thought of you made his mood sour. All the butterflies die instantly and fall into your ass at his words. Steve and Robin look at the phone confused. “What? Why?”

There’s a pause for a moment. “I can’t really go into the details. But they told me I couldn’t write her anymore. I got pissed off and told them that the reason why wasn’t fair, that I wanted to keep writing to her. Well, turns out she never liked writing to me anyway. The guy running the whole thing said that she was only “doing it out of obligation” and wasn’t the nicest person in the first place. Said she was trying to get canceled from the start, made it seem like it was a chore.”

“That’s not true!” You finally speak up, tears welling in your eyes. “I mean, it’s not totally true.”

There’s a pause, the three of you standing in complete silence for a moment.

“What?” Eddie’s voice, crackling in the receiver, is riddled with confusion, “Is someone else there? Hello?”

Grabbing the phone from Steve’s hand, you take a deep breath before bringing it to your ear. “I like getting letters from you, Eddie.”

The line is quiet for a moment. Then, he says your name softly, but like it’s a question.

“Yeah…surprise?” Your voice is small, and it matches the smile on your face. You wait for Eddie to say something in response, but there is a sudden commotion coming from his end. All you hear is him yelling back at someone before the line goes dead.

“Eddie? Eddie, hello?” Your panicked voice makes Steve grab the phone from your hand, bringing it up to his own ear. “Did he hang up?” He asks, looking at you confused, placing the phone back on the receiver.

“I-I don’t know,” you stammer, “It was quiet and then I heard some muffling and yelling. Then the line went dead.”

“Shit,” Robin places a hand on your shoulder, “You think he’s okay?”

“Can you call him back?” you look to Steve, pleading for him to do something.

Steve shakes his head dismally, eyes darting between floor tiles, “No, only he can call us.” He shrugs, lifting his head just enough to look at you through his lashes, “We did talk for a while, maybe his time was up?”

You couldn’t help but frown at his words, your mind going to the worst case scenario of what could have happened.

“Hey,” Robin’s words brought you back, “He’s fine, don’t worry about him. He’s always been able to hold his own.” She gives you a questioning look, “You didn’t tell us that you weren’t writing to each other anymore.”

Your head rolls in frustration, “I only just found out on Thursday. Some guy died and it fucked everything up. One of my students gets to write to him now and I don’t get to do anything about it.”

Fist slamming on the counter, you feel your blood starting to boil. “I never said it was a chore to write to him. Sure, I was skeptical at first, but I haven’t said a single negative thing since the damn thing started. I just…Fuck, I knew he was going to be mad at me.”

The warmth of Steve’s hand on your back along with the weight of Robin’s head on your shoulder as she link arms with yours grounded you. You expected them to say something, but they just let you cry it out, moving you to the couch. They knew that the tears falling weren’t just because you lost a pen pal. It was a break down that was a long time coming. Everything came pouring out, letting your wound be open and exposed to the air.

February 3rd, 1995

“-Then, you’re going to write his name, his booking number and his cell block. That’s all the stuff I told you before.”

You nod your head, as if the voice on the phone could see you. “Okay, got it. So I just write the address and stamp it now, correct?”

“Yeah,” Dustin Henderson squeaks on the other end, “And it should work. I write letters to him all the time since we don’t have a phone in our dorm. I tried to stick some blank papers in there once for him but he said they confiscated it and still made him pay for the paper he does write on. Messed up, isn’t it?”

“I know, right,” you say with an ire, placing your letter in the envelope before licking it closed, “What a way to squeeze money out of someone.”

“Totally! Anyway, I’m sure Eddie will be stoked to get your letter. Steve gave me some of the details, but when he reads what you said there’s no way Eddie can stay mad. He pretends to be a tough guy but he’s a total softy -- Don’t tell him I said that, please.”

“I promise,” you laugh, “It’s the least I can do for all your help, Dustin.”

“Hey, who am I to keep two people from falling in love,” the suave suggestion in his voice makes you blush, but you keep yourself together.

“We’re not in love, we’re barely even friends.”

“Yeah, yeah, save it for the wedding. Which I better be the best man for!”

“I think you’re breaking up, Dustin! Thank you for your help! Byeeee!”

Leaning against the wall next to the phone, you take in a deep breath before letting it out and up with exasperation. Holding the envelope between your fingers, smoothing your thumbs over the edges, you stare at his name for a moment. The envelope feels heavier than normal, but that’s the difference that writing three front and back pages will do.

Three pages, all written with your heart. The invisible eye of judgment that looked over you when you wrote your letters before had disappeared. You felt the need to explain yourself after everything that had transpired. You didn’t sugar coat anything, because that wouldn’t be fair. But, you hoped that when you explained your background a little that he would understand your reservations. It only seemed fair to tell him that you knew more about him than you let on in your last letter, hoping that when you explained how Robin and Steve had entered your lives that it would clear up any misunderstandings.

It was hard to write, but you concluded the letter by telling him that you would understand if he still hated you. If he didn’t want to talk to you ever again, you would respect that, even if it meant having to distance yourself from your friends. You signed with your own rendition of a small rose next to it, and made the last minute decision to add your apartment phone number at the very bottom. You didn’t want to get your hopes up, but you put it there just in case.

February 14th, 1995

As the final bell rang for the day, you wished your students a safe trip home, reminding them to have their homework packets done by Thursday. Once the last student filed out, you wasted no time getting to tearing down the pink and red decor that had been haunting you for the last two weeks. You’d not been a big fan of Valentine’s Day to begin with. Even when you and Henry were still together he had only really put in any effort the first year or two. Then it just became mundane and predictable. He’d take you to dinner, get a little wine in you, and expect you on your knees once you got home.

It was almost nice to spend a year doing something different for once.

“Hey, Anita wanted to get a head count tonight to make sure we have enough seats. You’re still good to go, right?”

“Yeah,” you turned to see Scott at your door, “I’ll be there, 6 sharp! Just going to run home and get out of my teacher costume.”

Mr.Clark laughed at that, “Alright, see you later then!” He gave a little wave before he tucked himself back out into the hall.

After cleansing your classroom of any signs of love, you made your way home to get ready. Even though Steve was a little bummed you wouldn’t be joining him and Robin for a night of cheap chocolate and shitty made for TV movies, Robin was more than happy to hear that you wanted to get out of your shell and make more friends. “Don’t forget to wear that set you got!”

And you did. Not that you expected anything to happen, but she was right about feeling good in it, even if it was just for yourself. Self love counts on Valentine’s Day.

When you came home later that night, you were still in a fit of giggles from the excitement at dinner. Between the surprise karaoke set up and the look on Scott's face when Mrs.Blaine pulled him back to the bathrooms during the peak of the night, you’d dare to say that you’d had a good time. You’d even limited yourself to one drink before switching to water.

As you peeled your jacket and boots off the red flashing of your answering machine caught your eye. You walk over to the machine, letting it play as you walk around the apartment.

“You have: two missed messages. First message.”

BEEP.

“Hi, darling.”

You stop mid step. Goosebumps cover all of your body at the sound of his voice. You hadn’t heard it in months. Almost a year now.

“I’m sorry I missed you…In more ways than one I suppose. I’m guessing you’re probably out with Stephen tonight. I saw the two of you out with your friend at the mall a few weeks back.”

A pause in the message has you wondering if he hung up after that.

“I…I guess I just wanted to say that I hope you’re doing well. You looked as much, and they way he looked at you…Well, I guess I can’t comment. Hope you have a good night. Love you.”

Love you.

You scoff.

“Second message.”

BEEP.

“This call is coming from Pendleton Correctional Facility from:”

“Eddie Munson.”

Quicker than you’ve ever moved before, you’re sure your feet barely touch the ground as you make your way to your living room.

“Hello? Oh was that a beep? Shit, sorry.” He was clearly flustered, his fumbling only made you feel giddy like you were listening to a voicemail from your crush.

“Let me start over. Hi, it’s Eddie,” he laughs, “I hope it’s not weird for me to call today. They only make you pay half as much if you tell them you’re calling your old lady. Not that I’m saying you are my-my, uh, girl or whatever.” You could almost picture how red he must have been as he was talking. You couldn’t help but bury your face in your hands and falling over on your couch, floundering around at the implication.

“I would have called sooner, but I had to wait for your number to be added to my approved call list. Just, uh, wanted to let you know I got your letter. I wrote you one back, but I’m waiting on a stamp. The freaking ran out since everyone is sending love letters. So as soon as they get more I’ll be shipping that out to you. But…I wanted to tell you that I’m not mad. That Bridges, he’s a real asshole. He keeps bragging about how as long as the project goes well then he gets a bonus.”

You were shocked at first, but it all made sense when you thought about it. In your gut, you knew there was no way his sunny demeanor was genuine. His insistence on your participation as well. He probably would have lost money if you hadn’t taken on his offer.

“And as much as I hate the guy, I gotta admit that we wouldn’t be…whatever this is without him. On that note, I also feel like I need to get something off my chest.”

Heart beating a million beats per second, you sit up straight, keeping your eyes on the machine as if it would disappear if you looked away for even a second.

“I may or may not have known a little bit about you before all of this happened, too. Before we started writing to each other actually, thanks to the wonder twins telling me all about their new friend whose asshole husband cheated on her with a girl 15 years younger than him. They would talk about you any time I called and I started to look forward to meeting you when I got out. That hasn’t really changed…” The audio is muffled for a moment, where he probably put his hand over the receiver, “Alright, jeez get off my back, Tony. I’ll be done in a fucking minute. Sorry,” his voice becomes clear again, “these guys are jerks. Anyway, to make a long story short, I think that we should just put the stupid shit with Bridges behind us, start over, or pick up where we left off. I think that it’ll make more sense when you read my letter. So, yeah. Um, have a happy Valentine’s day and…live long and prosper. Bye!”

BEEP.

“No new messages. Two old messages.”

May 27th, 1995

A breeze blows gently through your apartment, billowing your curtains lightly. Lightening Crashes by Live transitions into Only Wanna Be With You by Hootie and the Blowfish on the little radio that you picked up from Melvald’s on clearance. You hum along, wiping sweat from your forehead as you continue to mop your kitchen floor. “I only wanna be with youuuuuu~,” you belt out into the empty apartment.

The phone rings in the living room, and you look at the clock. Shit, it was noon already? You scramble to turn the radio down, careful not to knock over the empty wine bottles that sat next to the sink, drain rung red. You hop over the coffee table, planting your butt on the cushion and picking up the phone. The automated message plays, and you mutter a little yeah, yeah, yeah as it speaks. Hearing Eddie’s voice gets you curling up against the arm of the couch. You give a quick yes, and soon you’re connected.

“Hello?”

You try and hide your excitement, but fail miserably as you reply. “Hi, Eddie!”

“Happy first day of no school! How did last night go?” His voice was full of genuine interest, you could almost imagine the grin he has on his face.

“It went really well! I had to take Mr.Clark home afterwards, but I didn’t have a single drink! I also don’t think I’ve had a single migraine since we last talked.”

Eddie’s laugh told you that he was definitely cheesing on his end. “That’s so awesome, Sweetheart! I’m super proud of you.”

His praises made you melt, his smooth voice not helping.

After Eddie’s message on Valentine’s day in combination of his letter, the two of you agreed to try your friendship again from scratch. It was never spoken between you two, but you’re sure that after all the things you’ discussed on that first real phone call just between the two of you that Robin and Steve were planning to set you two up, even before the prison project. When you asked them about it, they just played dumb so you just put it to rest.

Your dreams had also changed. Once the door that was closed was now open, the two of you sit facing each other. Sometimes you would talk, sometimes the dream would only last for a few moments. Either way, the feeling was different now. There was no fear, he just needed to cross the threshold to get to you.

Eddie has been calling every other Saturday at noon since. You’d drive to his uncle’s trailer after every call to give him money to put on Eddie’s commissary, shocked the first time to see the man you spent some of Christmas Day with. You had been too far gone to remember his name, which you apologized profusely for. He told you it was no big deal, and insisted on showing you some hospitality and some old photos of Eddie when he was younger.

Eventually it became routine. Wake up, get everything prepped, talk to Eddie until eventually Tony (who apparently thinks he gets to tell people how long that can use the phone) kicks him off, take food to Wayne’s, and then spend the evening with Steve and Robin. It took a lot of energy out of you at first, but when you confided in your friends about your drinking problem, it started to feel like less of a chore as your energy started to come back.

“What have ya got made up for Wayne today?” Eddie asks.

“He told me he really liked my hash brown casserole I made a few weeks ago, so I got that ready for him before I started cleaning this morning.”

“Damn, he did say somethin’ about you making a good casserole. I’m gonna get a belly on me if you’re gonna be cookin’ like that,” his pained sounds at missing out on your food has you squirming in your seat. You couldn’t pinpoint when it really started, but as your phone calls became more frequent, the two of you talked more and more about things that you wanted to do together.

It started out as group activities. He wanted you to come to a D&D game. You wanted to go with him and Steve and Robin to this cute farmers market your coworker told you about. He wanted to try and get a gig at the hideout so he could show you how good his band sounds. You wanted to have a get together at Steve’s when he comes home. He wants to take you to this really nice restaurant in town. You want to bring him with you to Chicago some time when you are out visiting your brother. He wants to take you to the movies. You want to take him to the new record store opening this summer.

It would be a lie to say that his promises didn’t make you hopeful. You had to constantly remind yourself that he didn’t even know what you looked like. He could say all these things to you on the phone, and he could just as easily book it if you weren’t what he was expecting.

“Oh, I was thinking-” you started.

“That’s never a good sign,” he teased.

“Ha ha, so funny, Munson,” you fake offense, “Anyway, I was thinking we could go see the new Batman movie when you get out. Robin and Steve keep debating on if Val Kilmer is going to play a good Batman, but I just want to see Jim Carry as the Riddler.”

“I don’t know, have you ever sat through a movie with them?” He questions.

“Uh, yeah, plenty--oh, okay I see your point,” you say, thinking about how much the two of them talk during a movie just at Steve’s. They were probably menaces in a movie theater.

“Yeah, it would probably be better if just the two of us go. Save us a headache,” he suggests.

“Sounds like a date, then,” you say, curious of his reaction. It’s quiet for a moment before he speaks again.

“A date? Yeah, sure, yeah, that,” he sounds nervous.

“I’m just messing with you, Eddie,” you say to save face, hoping to hide any disappointment in your voice.

“Oh,” his tone sounds sad, dejected even, “Yeah, sure.”

You were going to say something until you heard Tony’s voice yelling. Both of you let out a sigh in unison.

“Alright, I guess I’ll hear from you in two weeks?” You don’t even bother to hide your disappointment anymore.

“Yeah. Wish it was sooner…”

“Hey, only two more months, Eddie,” you try to lift his spirits.

“Two more months,” he mirrors back.

After you say your goodbyes, you quickly get cleaned up to head over to Wayne’s. His old truck sits in the driveway, and you catch him finishing up mowing the grass. You pop the casserole in the oven while he gets cleaned up, using the spare time to pick up a few things here and there. Wayne’s tried to tell you guests don’t get to clean up, but you just ignored him until he gave up, asking him if it was really the hill he wanted to die on.

The two of you chatted, eventually migrating out to the front porch to enjoy the steady nice weather.

“Do you think Eddie will like me?” you ask nonchalantly, keeping your eyes on a crack beneath your feet.

Wayne stops mid puff and looks at you confused.

“What?” you ask, trying to play it off.

“Is that a rhetorical question?” he asks, blowing the smoke away from you.

“No, I mean…What if he thinks I’m something I’m not? What if he’s disappointed when he meets me?”

Wayne barks out a laugh, “Oh, trust me, he won’t. I already know exactly what’s gonna happen, and it’s not him running away with his tail between his legs.”

“What do you thinks going to happen?” you ask with concern.

He just smiles, eyes fixed on the sunset.

July 26th, 1995

Your hands smooth out the fabric of your dress for the hundredth time, opting for something simple yet flattering and pairing it with some nice jewelry. “Are you sure this is okay?”

Robin was laying across Steve’s bed, swinging her legs and staring at the ceiling. “For the millionth time, yes, you look hot. He’s gonna fall to his knees when he sees you.”

You walk over to the bed and plop down next to her, “And for the millionth time, it’s not like that Robin. I…,” you fiddle with your rings as you stare at Steve’s ceiling fan spinning above you, “What if I’m not what he’s expecting? I know what he looks like, but he’s only going off of what he’s been told about me. What if when he gets here, he takes one look at me and-”

“Okay, listen,” Robin places a hand delicately over your mouth, “First of all, Eddie is going to have to pick his jaw off the floor when he sees you. I promise you that.” You look over to her next to you, smiling under her hand. “Second, if it’s not “like that,” then why are you wearing that matching set you got when we went to the mall?” The hand on your mouth moves to your shoulder where she snaps your bra strap against your skin.

You jump up from the bed trying to hide the blush in your face when a knock on the door draws both of your attention.

“Hey, are you two done playing dress up in there? Jane and Max need help getting all the food set up.”

“On it,” you say as you open the bedroom door, sliding past Steve to get away from Robin before she can ask any more questions.

You wipe the sweat from the back of your neck, bouncing Nancy and Jonathan’s two year old daughter on your hip. Nancy was telling you about her latest article in the New York times when Dustin’s shrieking voice caught everyone’s attention.

“HE’S HERE! HE’S HERE!” Dustin yells from the front yard, and you can hear the sound of a car playing metal music on full blast getting closer, before cutting off completely.

You hand Nancy her toddler back, not trusting yourself to be able to hold her as your hands start to shake. A lump fills your throat, and it suddenly feels way hotter than it did a second ago. You’re surrounded by excited whispers and the rustling of Gareth getting into a cooler to grab a beer.

And then it’s the skin to skin contact of Mike brushing past you and the squealing of Max and Jane from the other side of the yard as two bodies emerge from around the side of the house. A usually bald head covered in a dark brown cowboy hat, followed by a mop of curls that bounce with excitement. Bodies flocked around him; you note that he’s taller than most, say for Mike and Argyle. Everyone is taking their turns to greet him, and you’re hit with a realization that this is a family. A weird, mixed found family, who clearly have a bond that can’t be broken by time, and you were lucky enough to be accepted by them.

“Hey, there little missy,” Wayne’s voice breaks you from your trance, his arms open expectantly. The normally gruff and distant man was all smiles today, for good reason.

“Hi Wayne,” you wrap your arms around him, patting him on the back before pulling away, “How was the drive?”

“Lord,” he says, shaking his head, “That boy ain’t changed a bit. Either talked my ear off or played music loud enough that I’ll need hearing aids.” He looked over to Eddie, who was still being mobbed by the other party guests, “But, it was worth it.”

You hum in agreement, watching as Robin talks to Eddie. She points your way, and before you can prepare yourself his gaze meets yours. Even from a distance you can see the sun hitting his eyes just right, honey brown orbs locked on you. You lift your hand up to give him a small wave, and the biggest grin you’ve ever seen spreads across his face. You’re sure your face must be beat red, and you shift your eyes suddenly feeling shy. Eddie places a hand on Dustin’s shoulder and moves him to the side, making a beeline to you and Wayne.

Gravity felt like it was magnifying with each step he made, and everything around him was blurry. Every nerve in your body felt like a live wire. You’re sure you weren’t even this nervous on your wedding day. You smooth out your dress again, the fabric brushing against your skin leaving a tingling feeling behind. Each stride he takes gives you an opportunity to examine him further, to see the dimples in his cheeks, the lines in the corners of his eyes where his smile reaches them, the littering of light freckles and other imperfections.

He stopped just in front of you, his body rocking back to maintain a space between you. His hands were tucked in his jean pockets with his arms tight to his body. It reminded you of a kid trying his hardest to keep his hands to himself.

“Hey,” his voice was even nicer in person.

“Hi.” It came out small. You were trying to be cool, but kept your head low to hide the smile on your face. He shifted where he stood, bending and twisting to force himself into your vision. The girlish giggle that came out of you was unrecognizable. You look up to him as he makes himself upright again. “It’s nice to finally meet you in person.”

He shuffles his feet, probably a nervous habit. “Yeah, no kidding,” his head tilts and he looks at you with one eye, “I know being locked up for 5 years didn’t really do a lot of good to me, but, uh, I hope that I still hold up to the pictures you’ve seen of me.”

“I’d say it wasn’t all bad,” you look him up and down playfully, “You look…mature. I’d venture to even call you handsome.” It was his turn to act bashful now, bringing a hand to rub against his stubble. The both of you laugh, exchanging glances before you speak again, “Was I what you were expecting?”

He leans his body back, the huge smile returning to dimple his cheeks again. “Are you kidding me? Even better than I imagined. You didn’t do yourself justice, ya know.”

“Stop, you’re gonna make me blush,” you whine and curl into yourself, kicking at the ground.

“Too late for that,” Steve says as he slaps Eddie’s shoulder, “Now, if the two of you are done pretending not to like each other over here, we got food to eat. Who wants a hamburger!”

The yard is alive with chatter and Eddie makes his rounds to catch up. One of the guys who you’re pretty sure is named Jeff, makes him shotgun a beer with him and everyone cheers when Eddie crushes the can on his head. “Henderson,” he yells pointing at Dustin in the pool, “you’re next! Gotta make up for all the lost time since I missed your 21st birthday!”

“That’s a lot of drinking to do,” Jane says with a worried look on her face. You look at her where she sits next to you on the edge of the pool and pat her back.

“It was nice knowing them, I guess.”

Max snorts from the other side of El, making all three of you erupt in a fit of giggles. You stop when you feel a hand on your shoulder. Looking up into the sweet chocolate eyes, he kneels down and you can smell the beer on his breath. “Hey, you doing okay? Me drinking isn’t gonna bother you, right? Do you want another water bottle?”

He’s been doing this for the last 2 hours, leaving his conversations to check in on you, even before he started drinking. Not that you were complaining, you relished in the attention he was giving you. Where at parties with Henry you were there to be seen and not heard, Eddie made you feel like the party was for you. Putting your plate together for you, standing just behind you when you talked in a group, undoing your shoes for you when you said you wanted to drip your feet in the pool. When you told him to stop hovering and enjoy his friends, he did so reluctantly, stealing glances your way like he was scared you’d be gone if his eyes weren’t on you.

“Eddie, I promise I can handle you and everyone else here drinking,” you give him a warm smile, “And I’m okay, thank you for asking.”

“Please drink Dustin under the table,” Lucas groans as he swims up to the edge of the pool, resting his chin on Max’s knee, “He thinks he can handle his alcohol well and I need to see you put him in his place.”

“Hey!” Dustin shouts as he exits the pool.

The night starts to wind down a few hours later. Some people are gone and others are sitting by the fire pit reminiscing on times you weren’t present for. You take it upon yourself as one of the only sober people to start picking up the stray cans and solo cups that had been scattered around the pool area and putting away any of the food that was still good. The sound of the sliding glass door opening caught your attention as you were cleaning up Steve’s kitchen. Eddie shut the door behind him, walking over to stand on the other side of the island.

“I was wondering where you ran off to,” he leaned on the counter top, propping his head in his hands with the dopiest grin.

“You’ve been slacking,” you tease as you place some dishes in the sink, “I think I’ve been cleaning for at least an hour now. Not doing a very good job at keeping tabs on me.”

“Okay, for the record,” he points a finger up and staggers a bit, “I could see you, and I wanted to stop you from cleaning. Buuuuuuuut, Robin told me you always clean up and get upset if anyone tries to stop you. So I figured I’d let you enjoy yourself.” He shrugged.

“I just respect Steve enough to not leave a mess. It is a little therapeutic in a way.” You move to stand closer to him, leaning against the edge of the counter perpendicular to him, arms just shy of touching. You watched as he fidgeted with a ring on his finger. “How is it going out there? It looked like Dustin and Gareth were passed out in their chairs.”

When he didn’t respond, you brought your attention up to meet his stare. His eyes were dark, the shine of the sun no longer bringing out the umber, now almost black under the warm light above him. They flickered as they stared into yours, back and forth like he was searching for an answer only you could give him. If you weren’t so acutely aware of your close proximity, you might not notice how he subtly leans closer, closer. You close your eyes.

“ED-DAYYYYYYYYYYY!”

The sudden noise was enough to make you jump almost out of your skin. You’re white knuckling the counter as you turn to see Dustin, Lucas, and Steve stumble inside, with Jane, Mike, and Max not far behind trying to help keep all three of them from falling over each other.

“Jesus H. CHRIST, Henderson!” Eddie screeches, slapping the top of the counter.

“Oh, there he is!” Dustin leans backwards, Jane holding him up, “Hey, guys, I found Eddie! He’s in here with his girlfriend! Oh shit where you guys in here suckin’ face? My bad my-”

“Okay, okay, come on lets get your shit together,” Eddie interrupts waving his hands around, “Or else you’re all sleeping on the floor.”

“I don’t wanna sleep on the floooor,” Steve whines like a child, throwing himself into Mike where they almost fall over.

“Well, it’s a good thing you have a bedroom here, dingus,” Robin walks backwards through the doorway, carrying a pair of feet with her. The feet belong to a very passed out Gareth, whose top half was being carried in by Jeff.

“Oh for fucks sake,” Eddie runs over to Gareth's side, picking him up and carrying him bridal style to the couch. You reel back as you watch him carry Gareth like he weighs nothing, his biceps flexing catching your attention. Damn, did it get hot in here?

You helped Robin get Steve up the stairs so she could put him to bed while the others got themselves situated. When you came down, you said your goodbyes to Mike, Will and Jane as they made their departure for the night. Max elected to stay with Lucas since she didn’t see well at night to drive, dragging him up to the spare bedroom. Gareth is still passed out on the couch, propped up with a towel under him in case he pukes. Jeff says he’s going to sit with him until he sobers up enough that he won’t ruin the interior of his new car.

Eddie got Dustin set up in another spare bedroom and made his way down the stairs. “God, my first day back and I can already tell nothing has changed.” He’s shaking his head, but the smile on his face gives him away.

“Are you usually the dad of the friend group?” You lean against the entryway wall, watching him as he walks over to you.

“How did you know?” He chuckled, putting up an arm and leaning into the doorway over you. The move was so smooth, and you felt the butterflies go straight from your stomach to between your legs. You sucked in a breath, “Oh, just a hunch.”

His eyes lock with yours for a moment, and his smile falters. He looks around for a moment, leaning over you to look into the living room, his chest pressing into you softly. Whatever he was looking for must not have been too important, bringing his attention back to you.

“So, I really hope I haven’t been reading into this wrong,” he says lowly, head nodding between the two of you, “‘cause I’ve been dying to do this all night.”

His hand cups your cheek as he leans in. He moves slowly, to give you an out if this isn’t what you want. But when you lean into him, he wastes no time closing the gap the rest of the way. His other hand moves from above you and lands on that spot on your neck and under your ear. His weight shifts, pressing you into the frame with his body and your hands to his chest, fisting the fabric to keep him in place. Your senses are flooded with dollar store detergent and his sweat after being out in the sun.

You never believed in that spark when you kissed someone before, but the way his plump, chapped lips move with yours has your body feeling like the 4th of July. And when his tongue swipes against your bottom lip, the taste of cheap beer mixes with the lemonade you were sipping earlier. He pulls away, just far enough to kiss you over and over and over and over amplified by the stickiness of your lip gloss that’s transferred to him. But you’re insatiable, and you chase him. Touch starved doesn’t even begin to touch it.

His hands move from your face down to your hips, moving you from the doorway to the darkness of the small hallway. Just in time as you heard the sliding glass door open and shut, then the sound of Jeff plopping down in one of the recliners. Eddie didn’t give you time to dwell on anything other than him, pulling your hips flush into his and grinding against you.

And, lord, you felt it.

The small gasp you let out has Eddie smirking into your kiss. He breaks away, leaning into your neck to whisper in your ear. “I’ve had a long time to think about all the things I want to do to you,” he bites at your earlobe and you moan, clenching your thighs.

“All the ways I want to touch you,” he kisses down your neck, “tease you. I bet you like being teased, don’t you?”

“N-no,” you whisper with a shake of your head. A whimper falls from your lips as his teeth gently scrape over a spot on your neck. “Don’t wanna be teased.”

He hums, kissing back up your neck to your lips again. “Awe,” he chuckles, eyes meeting with yours again, heavy lidded and pupils blown out, “you just want me to ruin that pussy, don’t you?”

Frantically nodding you press your lips back into his, but he pulls away leaving you to whine in frustration. “Easy, now, sweetheart. I’m just as eager as you, but I wanna do this right.” He grabs the skirt of your dress, pulling it up to get access to your legs. You don’t get the chance to protest before he’s picking you up. You wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his shoulders. The hardness in his pants is pressing directly into your core where you’re sure your panties must be soaked.

Not bothering to be stealthy Eddie carries you as fast as he can up the stairs. You can’t contain your giggles as he pushes you up against the door to his new bedroom. While stealing a few more kisses, he goes to grab the knob, but doesn’t get the chance when the door swings open behind you. He puts you down quickly to keep you from falling backwards, and you whip around to be met with a half awake Max.

“What the fuck,” she asks rubbing sleep from her eyes, “what’s going on?”

Eddie looks like a kicked puppy, his jaw slack and eyebrows knit together in a pout.

“I thought you guys left?”

“What? No? It’s way too dark. You know I can’t drive at night,” she crosses her arms looking at him confused.

“Damn it,” he looks at the door to his right, “and I put Henderson in the extra room.”

“Sorry, Max,” you speak up, “he was just trying to figure out where he was sleeping tonight. You can go back to sleep. Good night!”

She eyes you suspiciously before wishing you a goodnight and closing the door. When you turn to look at Eddie, you see that he’s about to open the other bedroom door.

“Eddie, what are you doing,” you whisper yell. He hesitates before he reaches the door knob.

“I’m gonna get Henderson and put him in bed with Harrington.” He goes to grab the knob and you reach for his hand to stop him. He looks distressed, but you can’t help but laugh. It had only been a little over a year that you’d gone without any sexual contact with another person, but you could clearly tell that Eddie was struggling after going as long as he had with the opportunity dangling right in front of his face.

“Can I make a suggestion before you start displacing people in their sleep?”

He nods, hopeful eyes on you.

“My apartment is like 10 minutes away,” you step closer to press yourself against him, “There’s a gas station on the way. We can stop and-”

Before you can finish he’s grabbing you by the middle and carrying you over his shoulder down the stairs and straight out the door, not bothering to close the front door behind him.

“Which car is yours?” He’s swinging you around playfully as he looks at all the cars lined up on the street and in the driveway.

“I’ll tell you, but we’re not going to get anywhere without my keys!”

“Fuck!” He smacks your ass before placing you on the ground. “Where are they?”

“In my purse on the counter-”

He takes off, running through the front door and back faster than you think you’ve ever seen anyone move. Tossing your purse to you he follows you as you move to where you parked on the road, pulling out your keys and unlocking the door.

“Eddie, hold on,” you giggle, pushing your butt into him in a futile attempt to get your door open. Your keys jingle as you try and get the right one into the lock to your apartment. Eddie’s hands were everywhere as he pressed himself further into you, kissing up and down your neck and shoulder. “It’s only going to take longer to get inside if you’re distracting me-hee~”

He relented with a whine, chin resting on your shoulder and hands lingering on your hips as he waited patiently. Once you finally opened the door you stepped in and flicked on a light, Eddie hot on your trail. When you turned around to face him, you were expecting to be met with his lust filled eyes, but you were surprised to find him looking around your apartment with wide eyes. You took the time to admire him again, much like you did earlier. He looked like he belonged there, like he fit with the cozy atmosphere you had cultivated since you moved in. He would have looked so out of place in the sterile white of your home with Henry.

“It’s cute,” he says looking at some of the artwork you have hanging on the walls, “exactly what I was expecting.”

“Oh, so you were expecting me to take you back to my apartment?” You eye him with a smirk. He looks down at his feet before tilting his head to look at you.

“Only for the last four months.”

Chills run up your body. He’s been thinking about you, like…this, for 4 months.

“Only four months?” You step to him, craning your neck to look into his eyes. The pink on his cheeks more prominent this close.

“Well, sort of. Honestly been thinking about you since you sent me that letter about yourself, what you looked like. Again, you didn’t do yourself justice,” he leans down to kiss your nose, “But, I, uh, didn’t really start thinking about you until we got to talk for real.” His hands snaked around your waist, sliding down to grab handfuls of your ass.

“Something about your voice,” he leaned in for a quick kiss, “hearing you laugh at my dumb jokes,” another kiss, “the way you say my name. “Hi Eddie.”” He mocks you, exaggerating the sultry inflection of your words. Smacking a hand on his chest, you both laugh, and he pulls you in closer.

“Well I’ve been thinking about you longer,” you say as you pull on the hem of his shirt. His brows quirk up at you in surprise.

“Really? And I thought I was pushing my luck tonight. Was worried all our talking was just you being nice to me.”

“God, Eddie, you’ve been away for way too long if you couldn’t tell I’ve been flirting with you by now.”

“Hey,” he raises his hands defensively, “I’ve never gotten my hopes up about a girl flirting with me before, and I wasn’t about to start.”

It hurt your heart to hear him say that. Robin said Eddie wasn’t super popular in high school, and didn’t have the best luck in the dating department before he was incarcerated. Which was a shame because he’s such a sweet guy and deserves to feel wanted. The ache between your legs came back when you realized that you might get to be the first person ever to make him feel that way.

You lean up to kiss him again, lingering there for a moment before you take a step back. He leans in to chase you,but you keep taking steps back. When he opens his eyes, he sees the mischievous look on your face and smiles wildly. Just as you turn to take off to your room, he launches after you, making you squeal as he chases you down the short hallway. Once passed the threshold of your bedroom doorway he wrapped his arms around you, planting kisses all over your face. You giggled as he walked you to the edge of your bed, planting a kiss on your lips and guiding you down, down, until you were sat.

The mood shifted from playful to hot the moment his tongue slipped out in search of yours. His hands were suddenly on your knees, bunching and shifting the fabric of your dress. The metal of his rings was cold against the hot skin of your thighs. His fingertips felt rough to the touch compared to your smooth skin, the sensation lingering as his hand crept closer and closer to where you wanted him, needed him.

“Holy shit,,” he inhaled sharply though his nose when his fingers reached the fabric of your panties,“This is happening.” An incredulous chuckle left his lips, and he let his fingers loop the waistband, snapping it back to your skin.

Just when you thought he was going to take the plunge, his hands continued to creep up your body. His touch was feather light, gliding up your sides, slowly, slowly, until you felt him right under your rib cage, below the cups of your bra. He hesitated for a moment, and you weren’t sure he even realized that he had stopped kissing you. The low light of the moon shining through your blinds illuminated him just enough that you could see him swallow. Where had all that big talk gone from earlier.

“Eddie.”

His shift to yours and you hold his stare. Your hands move down your own body, gliding over his hands from the top of your dress, down, until you grab the hem of the dress yourself. His grip tightens as you pull the fabric up, up, exposing your legs, your stomach, chest, until it’s up and over your head. You toss the offending garment to the floor, and meet Eddie’s eyes again. Leaning back on one hand, you grab the collar of his shirt, pulling him in so his lips just ghosted over yours.

“I thought you’d been thinking all this time about what you wanna do to me?”

That was all exactly what was needed to break Eddie of his nerves. One of his tattooed hands flew from your ribs to your chin, fingers squishing your cheeks to purse your lips. He looked down at you over his bottom lashes, lips curling into a devilish smile.

“I’ll do my best, but I can’t promise to be gentle. Tell me if you need me to stop. Got it?”

You shook your head the best you could in his grip, your thighs rubbing together at his shift in demeanor. His lips were on yours in an instant, hand slipping from your face, down your neck, shoulder, before slipping behind your back. He shifted his weight, placing a leg between yours so his knee was fully pressing against your heat. His other hand snaked around your side, meeting his other hand. In one swift motion the constricting hold your bra had on you was gone, and the weight of your chest shifted as the garment lay flimsily against you. You shimmied your shoulders, lifting one arm out of the strap, and then the other. Eddie grabbed it, flinging it off of where it still covered you as if it personally offended him.

His mouth was on you again. Starting at your lips, moving down your neck, nipping, biting all the way to the swell of your breast. His hands make their move, wasting no time as they began to grope and pull. He took a nipple in one hand and did an experimental roll, the sensation causing you to arch into him, and your hips roll into his knee, hitting that hard spot just right against your clit. Your eyes cross for a moment, and you barely get time to recover before he’s taking your other nipple into his mouth, flicking his tongue in tandem with the rolls of the other. All the sensations creating a perfect symphony of pleasure that you hadn’t felt in years, if ever.

You don’t hold back as moans fall from your lips, and they only egg Eddie on more. His mouth releases your nipple with a wet pop causing you to whine out in protest, only made worse when his whole body pulls away to stand at the edge of your bed. Even in the mostly dark room, you’re still able to enjoy the show as he strips himself of his shirt.

His biceps flexing already had you feeling hot, but your breath hitches in your chest as you take in Eddie’s bare chest. Some of the tattoos you recognize from the picture of him and Steve, but there are new pieces that fill in a good majority of his chest and parts of his stomach. He’s tone, even more so now than in his earlier twenties. Your head spins as you follow his happy trail down to where he’s undoing his belt. When he pushes his jeans down to the ground, your jaw hits the floor when you see the tightly pitched tent in his boxers.

When he clears his throat, you quickly shut your jaw and look at him with embarrassment. “See something you like,” he smirks. Your head nods dumbly, still in awe at the man before you. He rubs his hand over his stubble shyly, curling into his shoulder at your admission.

However, his bashfulness didn’t last long as he leaned forward, grabbed you by the calves and pulled you until your ass was at the edge of the mattress, making you lose your balance and fall flat on the bed. He holds your legs up, moving to stand between them. Leaning forward he kissed you on the lips, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth when he pulled away. Then, in a move you weren’t expecting, he dropped on his knees and began kissing on your inner thighs.

“W-what are you doing?” you asked as you propped yourself on your elbows, watching him make little marks on your skin.

“What do you mean?” he doesn’t look up, only switching to your other leg as he moved closer to your clothed slit.

“Sh-shit,” you whimpered as his mouth landed on your mound, licking over where you’d soaked the center of your panties, “w-hat are you doing down there?”

“Oh, pretty girl,” he looked up at you from between your legs, “I’m going to eat this wonderful meal that you’ve so kindly warmed up for me.” Before you know it, he’s biting and pulling the material away from your cunt, leaning back and pulling away just enough to pull them off.

And then he’s on you, wasting no time getting his mouth on you. A hand flew straight to the curls on the top of his head as he began in ministrations. His flattened tongue licked a slow stripe all the way from your hole to your clit, stopping on the bud to flick his tongue back and forth.

“H-ooooohh my god,” your words came out breathy, and you subconsciously ground your hips into this tongue as he lit the fire in you. “Eddie- t-that, ah, don’t stop!”

He hummed into you as his tongue slid down to your hole, wasting no time plunging his tongue inside. Your breath hitches as the breach, curses falling from your lips as your head lulls back. He pulls away for a moment, a thumb gliding to your clit to keep you going as he speaks.

“Baby, has anyone ever eaten you out before?”

“N-no-o, ffffuck, never,” you stutter out, lifting your head to look at him again. You were met with an expression that you could only describe as wild excitement. His eyes practically had hearts in them.

“Well, shit, I was just going to get you warmed up for me, but I’m definitely gonna make you cum on my face.”

Your face was flush red with embarrassment. Henry never did anything like this with you. He barely made you cum in anyway, leaving you to get yourself off on your own. So the idea of cumming on Eddie’s face only stoked the flames in you more.

His mouth wrapped around your clit once again, sucking and licking, making you cry his name with the remaining breath in your lungs. When you didn’t think it could get better, you felt the roughness of Eddie’s finger at your entrance, pushing in, and working you to the knuckle. The curling motion of his pointer was like throwing gas on the flame. Losing the strength in your arms, you flopped onto the bed with a gasp, hands shooting to grip in Eddie’s short curls. “Oh, oh fuck — ah!”

Eddie let out a small moan when you pulled. He was smirking against your mound, eyes watching you wriggle and writhe before him. You were so responsive to all his touches and he was sure that he was leaving a stain on the inside of boxers from how much you were turning him on. He needed you. Bad. But he wanted to make you melt under him first. So he added another finger and could feel the way you clenched around him, how your whole body was going stiff, that he was so close to getting you right where he wanted you.

His name spewed from your mouth between some curses when the flame finally took over and had you seeing white. You clenched your thighs around his head, shaking as your orgasm ripped through you. Broken gasps and cries barely left your lips before breaking out in a pant, chest heaving as you come down from the high.

Eddie stood from where he was between you, taking the moment to grab the condoms that he shoved in his back pocket earlier in the car. Taking one and setting on the night stand, he turned to find you watching him. You already looked so fucked out, but there was anticipation in your eyes as he approached you. Taking his time to tease you, he pulled his boxers down slowly, watching your eyes widen when it sprung out and smacked against his stomach. He wanted to say something funny at the look of concern on your face, but all that came out was, “It’ll fit, promise.”

Wordlessly you nodded. Watching Eddie saunter over to you as he put the condom on felt like watching a predator about to devour his prey. Once he was back where he belonged, he leaned down to kiss you, hand on your cheek. The lingering taste of your own release on his lips. There was hunger, passion in his kiss. No words, and yet it felt like he was pouring his heart out to you.

You hummed in surprise as you felt the fat head of his cock nudging at your entrance, begging for permission. You rolled your hips with a small whimper against his lips.

“Oh, fu-u-uck,” the words stuttered from his mouth as he finally pushed himself inside. Your breath caught at the feeling of him splitting you open, a new heat igniting in your body. Even with the condom you could feel every bump and curve, how hard he was as he pushed himself into you. When he was fully inside, opened your eyes and were met with the prettiest sight; Eddie’s face mere inches from yours, looking strained, yet relieved, all just from being inside of you.

While he was trying to regain his composure, you were starting to get impatient under him. You start to grind against him, and his hands are instantly at your hips to stop you. “Ah— hold on sweetheart, I’m afraid I’m gonna bust too quick if you do that.”

You pout your lip at him, continuing to roll against him. The sureness he had when he had his mouth on you dissipated as he reveled in your movements. He dropped his head, forehead resting on your shoulder, his little noises right in your ear went straight to your core, “Shit, that’s right—oh use my big cock to fuck yourself. Fuck you feel so g-g-good.”

It didn’t take long of your movements to get him to finally snap, pulling back and trusting into you with a loud smack. You arched your back at the intensity of his movements, arms wrapping around him as he sets a relentless pace. Each thrust into your cunt was punctuated by your quick moans as the air was being knocked out of you over and over.

His grip on your hips loosened, weight shifting as his hands snake under your arms, gripping your shoulders to amplify each thrust. When his eyes meet yours they’re wild, feral as he’s lost himself in his own pleasure. It was like nothing you’ve ever experienced before, another person’s carnal need for you.

Your second orgasm hit you like a freight train. It was back arching, toe curling, open mouth but nothing comes out pleasure that you’ve only read about in the dirty novels you’d read alone in the bathtub. You’re pretty sure your eyes crossed at one point. His eyes are locked on your face, watching it contort in pleasure as he feels you fluttering around him. He wants to hold out, but it’s too much, and his movements become erratic. Soon after he stills his movements, hips flush with your core and moans into your ear. You can feel the way he twitches inside of you, even with the condom.

Body going slack on top of you, his weight was comforting as your chests rose and fell in rhythm. His grip on your shoulders shifts to around your rib cage and pulls you into him in an embrace so he drag you up the bed with him. The two of you lay there silently, and you stare into his big brown eyes as they shine in the moonlight. Your heart swells with fondness as he looks at you like you’ve hung the moon. His stare is so intense you have to tuck your head in his chest. He wraps an arm around you, tucking his chin on the top of your head.

You didn’t want the moment to end. In less than 24 hours, this man with his arms around you has made you feel more wanted than you ever had in the entirety of your marriage. Deep down, you knew there was a possibility that this was all that it was going to be. And over the last few months, you told yourself that you would be okay if this was all he wanted. But now that you’re finally here, in the moment, you’re starting to realize that this man could ruin your life.

Gently pushing away from him, Eddie gives you a confused look as you climb out of the bed, picking up his clothes.

“Uh, what are you doing?” He sits up from the bed cautiously.

“Oh,” his question caught you off guard, “well, I, uh, when Henry and I would, you know, he would have me wash his clothes after…”

Eddie reels back, looking at you with shock, “What the hell? I thought you were his wife, not his maid.”

You tilt your head, “What do you mean? All wives do this for their husbands? Not that you’re my husband, I just--it’s just out of habit.”

He’s got himself on the edge of the bed, leaning forward he reaches out for you, tattooed hand waiting for you to take it. You look between it and his face, before placing his clothes in a neat pile on the nightstand. When you take his hand in yours, he pulls you into him, taking your breath away with a kiss, pulling you down into the bed with him once again.

“See, I thought you were getting my clothes to kick me out,” he whispers as you nestle into his side. You shook your head, smiling against his tattooed chest.

“No, definitely not. You’re going to be lucky if I let you leave now,” you giggle as you trace the lines that cover his body. His chest jumps, and when you look up at him he’s smiling from ear to ear.

August 12th, 1995

Roses covered every shop, cart, and building at the fairgrounds today. The sun was beating down on you hard. It was practically boiling out, making you wish you could peel off the little clothing you decided to wear. The numerous bodies moving around you wasn’t helping, along with the endless food trucks putting out heat as the air filled with the smell of steak fries, hot dogs, and the food you were looking forward to the most: funnel cake.

Standing off to the side in the shade holding Eddie’s sketch book, you kept your eyes on the line, watching your boyfriend stick out like a sore thumb in the crowd of Hawkins citizens. Even though you told him you could wait in line yourself, he told you to find a nice spot for the two of you to enjoy your food out of the sun.

When you found a little spot in the grass under a tree, you waved to him to show where you were. He gave you a thumbs up, so you took that as the okay to take your seat. Just before you do, you hear some yelling coming from a few feet away.

“Mrs.Creel! Mrs.Creel!”

A group of your students from this last years class ran up to you, and you were suddenly very aware of how little clothing you were wearing.

“Oh, hi kids,” you greeted, adjusting yourself to hide a little skin. The kids didn’t seem to care much as they talked to you about their summers and how excited they were to be moving up to the eighth grade.

“Why can’t you be our teacher again next year?” Cindy asks.

“Yeah, I have Mr.Rupert this year and he’s so old and boring,” Suzy groans.

You laughed at their words, but felt a tug at your heart from their kindness. You hadn’t even noticed that Eddie was approaching until all four sets eyes widened, looking just behind you. When you turn around, you quickly take some of the load off of Eddie as he juggles your food and drinks.

“Woah,” you hear Collin say. You have to stifle your giggle as you realize that these kids probably didn’t expect boring Mrs.Creel to be with a guy like the one kissing her on the temple.

“Eddie,” you say, turning back to the group, “these are some of the kids from my class last year. Kids, this is my boyfriend, Eddie.”

Their jaws drop as their suspicions are confirmed. Eddie gives them a friendly hello, and you notice the two girls looking at each other.

“Wait,” Paul interrupts, “Your boyfriend? I thought it was “Mrs” Creel?”

Oh lord. You were hoping that you wouldn’t have to explain much since you’d have a new class this year, but you forget how observant middle schoolers can be.

“You’re correct, Paul. I am married, but,” you look up to Eddie, who gives you a nod, “But, I won’t be much longer. Hopefully that is.”

“Oh, okay,” Paul shrugs.

“What are we supposed to call you then?” Suzy chimes.

“I’m going to be going back to my maiden name, but you can call me Mrs.Creel if you want to. I know it can be confusing-”

“It’s okay,” Cindy insists, “we’ll just tell everyone that they can suck it up and call you by the name you want to be called.”

After the kids leave and you and Eddie stuff your faces, Eddie tugs you close, kissing the top of your head, his lips moving against your scalp as he talks.

“I don’t know if you remember, but I told you before that your students didn’t think you were lame.”

You sucked in a breath and laughed, “Yeah, I guess you were right. I’ve always been hard on myself when it comes to my students, though.”

“You’re hard on yourself with everything, Sweetheart.” He takes your hand in his before you can pull away, already getting used to your antics when he teases you.

As the sun finally starts to set, the two of you start to make your way back to your car. Eddie has proven himself to be quite the gentleman in the last few weeks. He opens your car door for you once you’ve gotten Teddie Munson, the giant teddy bear that Eddie one for you throwing darts at balloons, safely placed in your back seat. Once inside, he jogs to the passenger door and jumps in. The drive home was full of laughter and conversation, only winding down as you approached Steve’s place.

This had become your least favorite part of the night. Eddie had forgotten that his newly assigned probation officer was going to come and visit him the day after he was released. So when he was at your apartment instead of the address listed on his paperwork, he almost got thrown back in jail on violation. Thankfully, between you and Steve talking with him, he let Eddie off with but with one stipulation.

So Eddie had to stay at Steve’s house for the next six months as punishment. It wasn’t the worst thing, as you were welcomed by Steve to stay whenever you liked. But, with how vocal the two of you liked to be in bed, you could really only get away with it when Steve and Robin were both gone. And it was only going to be more difficult once the school year started.

“Hey, maybe if I’m really good, proving that I’m lookin’ for work and all that, maybe he’ll let me off my punishment early,” he shrugs as you walk into Steve��s, night bag in tow.

“Maybe,” you lament, “I wouldn’t do anything to risk it, though. You may piss him off if you even ask.”

“Ugh,” Eddie groans as you follow him up the stairs, “If I ever see Rick on the street he’s fucking dead.”

You just shake your head. He always says something to that effect whenever his probation prevents him from spending more time with you.

“I wish you could move in here. It would make things so much easier.”

That was the other thing he said.

“Sorry, babe,” you shrugged, grabbing your night clothes. You stood by the bedroom door as he rummaged around for something to wear, “I can’t afford to break my lease. Besides, you might get bored of me and kick me to the curb. It’s probably for the best that we don’t rush into anything.”

You don’t even see him coming when he grabs your arms, lightly pushing you into the wall, lips pressing firmly into yours. You hum against his lips, and when he pulls away, he looks at you with those eyes. Big, brown eyes that you wish you could stare into forever.

“I’ll agree to the no rushing, but you told me yourself that I was gonna be hard pressed to get you to let me go. I’m keeping the same deal on my end. Only way I’m letting you leave is if I royally fuck up or I’m on my death bed. Got it, Sweetheart?”

Nodding, you pull him into you again, hoping that your lips could tell him how you feel without having to speak the words. That you were scared, nervous to give yourself to someone so wholly again. The pain of losing him would probably do you in. But with how everything felt so natural with Eddie, so not forced, that you wanted to at least try.

thanks for reading!

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #inmate!eddie munson #inmate!eddie munson x teacher reader #eddie munson x teacher!reader #eddie munson fan fic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson st #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson fic

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xokohaneazusawa · 3 days

Note

hello i have a bllk request!

so uh today i got hit in the face during PE with a football (we were playing football for PE and i was daydreaming about bllk boys 💀) and i wasn’t paying attention and got hit in the face and got a small cut on my nose 💀.

yet all i could think about was how my favourite characters would be laughing their asses off at me/judging me and the amount that would genuinely be concerned was a bit tragic. 💀

which led me to think of this potential fic idea. inexperienced reader who has probably touched a ball less than 10 times in her life, whose class is required to do football for PE (as much as i love bllk, i could never enjoy playing football myself.)

so anyways, her bf (chigiri, rin, nagi, bachira, isagi, reo, and sae) sees her get hit in the face and is ready to laugh at her, but starts lagging when they see blood. (sweet infirmary scene maybe 😍😍)

reader is absolute dog shit at football due to a lack of experience, compared to him, who’s on the mf school team. (hence why they were in different teams.)

overall i’m just feeling a little mortified over the little accident and i think it’s gonna scar 💀 but watching other ppl, even fictional, suffer with me just makes me feel better lmao. it’s fine if you don’t wanna take this request or shorten the list of characters tho 🫶🫶

(my injured nose hurts as i’m typing this 😭😭)

OMG It’s been a couple days so I hope your nose starts feeling better!! But you're so iconic for thinking about Bllk boys when you’re supposed to be doing something else- Also Anon if you want me to go more into detail about some of the like infirmary and nurse scenes just lmk and I can totally make a part 2 and go into more detail!

Chigiri Hyoma -> Sadly this man did actually laugh at you, but then when he came over to check on you and realized there was actually blood he got a little nervous and did actually take you over to the nurse/infirmary/whatever else people call it -> Though when he brought you and the nurse said he was fine to go back he almost fought the person working in the nurse's office and they let him stay and keep you company -> He stayed by your side almost the whole time and did make fun of you a little bit, I mean it was a little stupid (HIS WORDS NOT MINE, I've had the same thing happen just with no blood) though he does kinda feel bad that it was somebody on his team that did it, though he won't ever tell you that -> He does eventually, after you stop bleeding, scold you a little for not paying attention, even though you don't know how to play you should at least be paying attention, though if you ask ever so nicely (aka he also hits too it) he'll at least teach you how to defend yourself from being in a situation like that again (It's his way of showing that he cares and doesn't want you getting hurt again<3) Rin Itoshi -> He will rush over immediately, I mean as much as he likes to win he doesn't wanna see you get hurt in the process, he could clearly tell the way the teams were set up was quite unfair, having the good players on one side and the bad ones on the other -> Checks around for injuries, all while grumbling that you should have been paying attention and not off in whatever world you were in -> When he realizes that you're bleeding though he stands you up, not too fast just in case, and takes you over to a teacher, letting them know that he's taking you over to the nurse/infirmary/whatever else, and then makes sure you get there safe before heading back -> Only goes back because the person working there said it was fine if he did and not because he wanted too, in all honesty he wanted to stay with you to make sure you were okay, as much as he didn't sound or look like it -> tries to take his mind off it by going back and playing more, but going against a team of lukewarm nobodies doesn't quite hit the spot for him so he just ends up worrying even more Nagi Seishiro -> The second that he saw you get hit he waited for a second and when he saw that you didn't bounce back like the people on his team normally did he made a slight effort to move a little faster to go make sure that you were alive still -> When he walked over and saw you were bleeding, he got up and let one of the teachers know, since he wasn't exactly sure what to do. They ended up making him help you to get to the nurse/infirmary/ whatever else, and when get got there he just kinda sat on the chair next to you, even when they told him he should go back to class -> He was kinda over football right then anyway, and he would have much rather stayed with you, way less of a hassle for him away, he would have also had to walk all the way back to the class and that's way to much work -> So instead he just stayed in there with you, and like everybody else kinda scolded you, or more in his case, lazily warned you about not paying attention when football are being passed around Bachira Meguru -> As soon as he witnessed you getting hit in the face with a ball, he laughed. No questions asked. -> Though as he was laughing he came over to check on you, at least to make sure that you were already and when he realized you weren't he quickly stopped laughing and tried to find somebody to get tissues or like really anything -> Gladly took you to the nurse/infirmary/whatever else you wanna call it when the teacher ask him to walk you down/over/up there. He def giggled about you getting hit in the face and was so curious about what you were thinking about before it happened -> Another man who is staying with you, Manz is not leaving until you leave, no matter what person tries to send him back to class -> Also, he's never gonna let you live it down Isagi Yoichi

-> This sweetheart! The second you got hit, he was right by your side (now if this was a match in Blue Lock, eh things would be different, but since he most likely wasn't trying all that hard since it was like people who actually knew how to play vs people that didn't he didn't wanna destroy anybody)

-> He helped you up and grabbed tissues and the whole nine yards, made sure to get you some water and everything like that, even volunteered to take you down to the nurse/infirmary/whatever else you wanna call it to make sure that you got there safe, and got some water on the way

-> When he got there, def was such a sweetheart to the people who were working and how concerned he looked for you, they didn't even ask him to go back to class, they just let him sit next to you and hold your hand and even almost all let out an "aww" when he would ask how you were every few minutes

-> Though once you started feeling better he would try to explain that you really have to be paying attention when you play, but also give you some help in learning ways to defend yourself against said flying footballs Reo Mikage

-> Another sweetheart, while he did slightly chuckle at you at first, when he jogged over and realized that you were bleeding he started worrying, asking people to grab him basically anything, which knowing Reo's popularity at school everybody scattered to grab something

-> Walked you up/down/over to the nurse/infirmary/whatever else you wanna call it, and while he did also laugh on the way, teasing you slightly about if you were thinking about him, he was still pretty worried for your safety

-> Would sit in the infirmary/nurses office/whatever else with you the whole time, making sure that either the bleeding spotted or their wasn't any bruising or anything along those lines

-> Another one who would wait to scold you, he needs to make sure you're okay first, and he will tease you the whole time about getting hit in the face with a ball, and you'll never live it down

Sae Itoshi

-> Brother Like Brother

-> Will wait for a couple seconds just to see if you can take care of yourself, but when he realizes you're bleeding he walks over pretty fast, pushing anybody out of the way

-> Gets somebody to grab some tissues or something, or just anything to stop the bleeding as he takes you down to the nurse/infirmary/whatever else you wanna call it

-> Unlike his brother, he will stay, even if people tell him to head back. Why would he, it's not like lukewarm players will actually change anything for him

-> The staff might be a little pissed off at him later about his mean comments, but that's an issue for later.

-> He'll also ask every couple minutes if you're okay and if you need anything, but he won't sound as nice as Isagi when saying it. He will also call you dumb for not paying attention and getting hit in the face (but later on he'll also smile and chuckle at the thought)

#blue lock x reader #blue lock #bllk #bllk x reader #chigiri hyoma x reader #chigiri hyoma #rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi #nagi seishiro x reader #nagi seishiro #meguru bachira x reader #bachira meguru #isagi yoichi x reader #isagi yoichi #reo mikage x reader #reo mikage #sae itoshi x reader #sae itoshi #xokohaneazusawa’s writings!

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lovers-rck · 3 days

Text

curious about you

OKAY so, this was *originally* for a request that i got sent about friends to lovers with abby, but i think i could (and i want to) write something better for that request so here is this.

to all those who sent requests, thank you, there are a couple that caught my attention and i will be dedicating some time as soon as i can, bear with me......

okay i'm done. enjoy!!

☆

"ugh, definitely not"

"why not?" abby says "it's a good movie"

she playfully nudges you with her shoulder, a smirk comes to her lips. you look at her.

"what?" she says

"you think fifty shades of grey is a good movie?" your hand grabs the remote from abby's hands, changing the channel.

"maybe i didn't choose my words wisely. it's.... interesting" abby steals the remote from your hands and flips back to the previous channel; your eyes see christian and anastasia kissing very noisily.

you stir in your seat. it's a saturday night, a greasy pizza box rests on the coffee table and the light coming from the television is the only thing illuminating the room. you turn to look at abby, the high points of her face are illuminated by the cool lighting of the movie.

"what's the point, anyway?" you ask, your teeth chewing on the edge of the pizza that abby doesn't eat.

"what do you mean?" abby replies, her brow furrows but her eyes don't leave the television.

"about the movie; like, is just that?" you point at the tv; a sex scene in the works.

"that?" abby smiles "you can say the word sex, you know?"

you roll your eyes and swallow the crunchy dough.

"say it" abby murmurs

you look at her; she looks at you

"what?"

"say the word"

you push her "fuck off"

abby laughs and moves closer again, her knee brushes the side of your bare thigh. the air feels heavy.

"i'm not going to move until you say it"

you let out a snort "what are you, christian grey?"

she lets out a mischievous grin "maybe i am"

you try to dodge her gaze. the fabric of the couch looks surprisingly interesting from one moment to the next.

"cringe" you say

"c'mon" abby murmurs, her proximity causing your heart to skype a beat.

abby's overpowering confidence shrinks you, molds and controls you to her liking. abby knows how to inhibit you and you know she does; over time you've learned that sometimes it's best to surrender to her.

so you sigh, and you say it "sex, okay? i said it. sex."

abby smiles and settles back in her seat. you can breathe again.

"see? it wasn't that hard. you're a pussy."

"i never said it was hard, you idiot. i just chose not use the word"

"yeah, whatever"

the minutes go by and you don't try to take the remote from abby again. there's (another?) sex scene in the tv, this one is a bit more explicit, more louder. you squirm; abby has a smirk planted in her face.

"you like that?"

you almost choke with your saliva "what?"

abby points at the tv with her chin "that. you like being tied?"

your eyes are fixed on the tv, but they're not paying attention to the scene unfolding. you can see out of the corner of your eye how abby waits for your answer.

you're afraid you're not going to be able to get away with this one.

"what's up with you and your questions today?" you try to play it cool

"i guess i woke up a little bit curious about you"

you hear a noise from the outside. you think that maybe today is your lucky day and someone will come into the house and will kill you and will end this torture.

but that doesn't happen.

"so, you are telling me you woke up thinking if i like being tied up?" you try to make abby uncomfortable, surprise her so that she finally shuts her mouth and leaves this round of questions that make your heart participate in a marathon that has no opponent.

but abby is abby, and you can't make her uncomfortable.

"yeah, i guess i wonder that"

you swallow your breath and hope she hasn't noticed. your head thinks of a thousand ways to dodge the question; something to say that's more convincing than "oh, im sorry abby, my mom just got hit by a car so i gotta go".

is this what friendship should feel like?

"so?" abby inquires

"um" suddenly the couch is too uncomfortable "i don't know"

"you don't know? what a shitty answer"

she is insufferable, you think "what do you want me to say?"

"i don't know, something more interesting maybe?"

you rolled your eyes "well, im sorry for not being interesting enough for you abby"

abby smiles slightly and continues to watch the movie. you almost thought you were safe, when her voice echoes again in the dark room.

"you didn't try it, right?" abby says. she is looking at you.

you reciprocate her gaze, a look of confusion plants itself on your face "what do you mean?"

the light from the television gives away as abby licks her lips "you said you didn't know if you like it, so that means you haven't tried it, right?"

her gaze on you is softer. you can tell that she is tired, more sleepy, less cocky.

"yes. you are correct" you say. you shiver, and so abby pass you a blanket "thank you"

"would you like to?"

her braid is a mess. blonde hairs are dancing around her face, framing her face and escaping the stiffness of the hairstyle.

you like this side of her. more vulnerable.

"i don't know. i would feel kinda dumb."

you whisper and abby smiles "im not anastasia steele, you know"

abby laughs softly and nods. she doesn't say anything back, so you take advantage

"have you tried?" you murmur

"being tied?" she asks, and you nod "let's just say thats not for me"

you chuckle. she yawns.

"and tie someone?" you ask, again.

"now you're the one asking questions, huh?"

you shrug "what can I say? i learn from the best"

abby laughs and settles back in her seat, her eyes watch the film intently.

"no, but i guess I'd like to give it a try."

you nod, even though she can't see you "good" you say.

"good" she replies

she fall asleep on the couch a few minutes later.

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson #tlou #abby anderson x female reader #abby tlou #abby x reader

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mazzystar24 · 1 day

Text

There is this one storyline somewhere that I think either I watched somewhere, read somewhere, or just dreamt or thought abt but it’s stuck in my head lately and it’s soooo perfect for buddie, that I must share because I can’t write fanfics but I can tell you guys the ideas my silly little brain comes up with:

Three words

Buck car crash

Bonus points if Chris is in the backseat (we are sick and twisted for the fact that ik yall will agree)

Okay but to the actual idea

So Buck’s car crashes but in the end all of them are fine and obviously the jeep has a lot of sentimental value so when he sees the ruins of it it hits him hard and the mechanic or whoever is like cos it’s an old car and had some problems and the damage is so bad it’s better easier and cheaper for you to just get a new one

Now this part is specifically from the storyline with ambiguous origins not just cos of my hatred toward a certain Thomas but in that story the girl’s (?) bf is like a secret subtle asshole in the dismissive way like he kinda just says like oh the crash could’ve been worse, you should be thankful, it’s just a car, you can buy a new one that’s the same make, all that jazz - so imma honestly say that that reaction tracks for tommy ngl

Okay as I’m writing this I’m realising that storyline may 88% be from a dream so maybe we DO know the origins of it (yes I dream in stories sometimes)

Anyways so buck is like it wouldn’t be the same it wouldn’t have this sentimental thing or this idk sharpie writing or this nail polish stain or this blah blah blah

but ultimately he’s like you know what? okay yeah you’re right and says goodbye to the jeep

And the best friend- Eddie- knows or is there for all this and goes behind Buck’s back and buys the damaged car from the place (I’m just a girl 🎀 is it called a junkyard or do they take it to like a mechanic lot or what?) and fixes up the car in secret and keeps as much of the original pieces as possible and keeps the pieces he can’t salvage to turn into some sort of keepsake like idk cutting parts of the metal and turning it into some sort of trinket (realistic car restoration? Not round here partner not round here🤠)

Bonus points for emotional moment when he has to fix the interior of the car and sees the blood remnants from the crash

Skip forward to a big celebration like Christmas or a birthday or something (birthday is my preference for this plot but Christmas does canonically make buddie gayer so 🤷🏽‍♀️) and the actual boyfriend got a good but generic present like idk a nice sweater (idk what you get boyfriends?) and ofc the bestie has the secret restored car

BUT

The bestie SWAPS WITH THE BOYFRIEND

Big sentimental reaction toward having the car back, thanks exchanged, Eddie looking on yada yada

After the party or maybe just a quiet moment at the party Eddie is chilling outside or whatever and then buck approaches and is like *meaningful look* “thank you” and Eddie is like tryna play it off and be like ah yes ik how much you love sweaters *mental facepalm* and then buck is like🤨 unimpressed cut the bullshit face and he’s like no Thank you™️ (in bold and italics and tm to communicate to you guys the tone) and eddie drops the act and is just like “fuck how did you know?” and then buck is like “I’ve never mentioned half those minor details or their sentimental value to him before” and then Eddie once again tries to play it off and be like “well I helped but it was him” and then cue unimpressed cut the bs look no2 and Eddie gives up and is like you’re welcome (do I need to tell you guys why I’m putting this in bold and italics or can you envision the cow eyes that go with this line?)

*soft smiles from both*

Then the scene literally ends with them sat next to eachother on a bench or wherever they are and chatting abt none sense or maybe over the semantics of actually fixing the car while they do the little head leaning on the shoulder thing

#911 #buddie #evan buckley #911 abc #911 fox #911onfox #eddie diaz #evan buck buckley #buckley diaz family #buddie fanfic #I feel like I’m baiting you guys with that tag but it’s for the demographic like this isn’t a fic but it’s and idea I’ll never write and #belongs in this tag even if it won’t be written🤩#anti bucktommy #anti tommy kinard

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fangirlwriting-stories · 2 days

Text

Mouse Trap

Summary: Neither Sam or Tucker thought that there was an actual reason Danny abandoned them out of nowhere. Then they end up stuck with Danny in a ghost trap and learn that not only was there a reason, it's a lot darker than they wanted to imagine.

Or: A no one knows au where Sam and Tucker come to the wrong conclusion, but it helps anyway.

...

Honestly, Sam couldn’t picture many ways this day could have gone worse. The Fenton’s ghost weapons have never really worked right, but she thought they’d at least know how to keep their ghost-proof cages from going off totally randomly, and capturing her, Tucker, and Danny. If anyone should be safe from these things, shouldn’t it be their own son? Not to mention that the last thing Sam needed right now was to be stuffed into a confined space that got launched 50 feet in the air with her best friend and her very much former best friend. But here she was, caught in a cage trap in the trees just outside of school, far enough away that no one had seen it happen, with Tucker and Danny.

Tucker hit his head on the side of the cage when it launched upright, meaning Sam was pressing her jacket into the side of his head so he wouldn’t have to look at the blood, and trying not to look at Danny on the far side of the cage, who was looking around like a cornered animal.

And honestly, that was a bit much. For as clear as he’d made it that he didn’t want to be around them anymore, what with his saying it to their face, Sam thought he could at least be in the same place as them for ten minutes.

“What day is it?” Sam asked Tucker, focusing her attention very firmly on him.

“Tuesday,” Tucker said with a wince, moving his head slowly down to shield his eyes from the sun. “And I have a terrible headache.”

“What’s your name?” Sam asked, making sure to not let the worry show in her voice.

“Tucker.”

“What’s my name?”

“Samanth—”

“Shut it.”

Tucker smirked up at her, which eased Sam’s worries a little bit.

“Just hang in there,” she said. “I don’t think you’ll need to go to the hospital. We’ll just head to your house as soon as Danny’s parents get here.”

There was a sharp intake of breath that for a second Sam thought came from Tucker, an instinctual reaction to how little he liked hospitals, but Tucker raised his head slightly to look over at the other side of the cage, meaning it came from Danny.

Sam glanced over too, half caring, and found Danny with his head pressed into the space between his legs, clearly trying to calm himself down. She scoffed and turned her attention back to Tucker, pressing the jacket more firmly into his head wound that took obvious precedence over being around people you don’t like.

Tucker, however, didn’t seem to agree, and a second later said hesitantly, “Uh, you okay man?”

Danny, as the only person “man” could refer to coming from Tucker, jerked his head up so hard he slammed it into the back of the cage. It made Sam wince despite herself, but he didn’t even seem to notice.

“Hey,” she said anyway. “Stop that. I don’t have another hand if you get a concussion too.”

“What?” Danny asked, like he hadn’t noticed the fact that Sam was giving Tucker very unqualified first aid care.

It seemed he really hadn’t noticed, however, because a second later his eyes widened and honed in on Sam’s hands.

“Wait, are you okay Tuck?” he asked, making a half-aborted motion towards the other side of the cage.

Sam stared at him for a second. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I’ll be fine,” Tucker said, brushing past Sam’s annoyance. “Why do you look like you’re caught in a trap?”

Danny took a turn staring at them at that. “Have you not noticed the cage surrounding us on all sides?” he asked.

“Dude, it’s your parents’ cage,” Sam said, rolling her eyes. “As soon as they get here they’re going to let you out and start fretting over you.”

Danny didn’t reply, instead reaching a hand up to grip one of the bars of the cage so tightly his knuckles turned white. And that was certainly… odd, but Sam had more pertinent things to worry about.

She turned her gaze back to Tucker’s head, and found the bleeding had mostly stopped and hadn’t soaked through her jacket, meaning he was probably going to be okay until someone else got here, the way the light hurt his eyes aside.

She kept her hand pressed firmly on his head, supported with her other arm, but she also leaned back against the side of the cage as much as her position would allow.

“You’re gonna be alright,” she confirmed to Tucker. “Just stay awake.” She was pretty sure that’s what you were supposed to do, anyway.

“Surprisingly not feeling that tired, what with the way we’re hanging in an already faulty ghost trap 50 feet in the air.”

“You’ll be fine,” Danny said, looking out the side of the cage, though Sam wasn’t sure what he was looking for. “It’s not faulty.”

“It captured three humans and launched us into the air with no obvious ghosts around,” Sam deadpanned. “Who’s to say it won’t drop us all next?”

Danny looked back over at her, but Sam couldn’t read his face. After a second, he just amended, “It’s not that faulty.” Then he went back to looking out the side of the cage towards the school.

Sam sighed but didn’t say anything else, and turned back to Tucker. The wound had stopped bleeding now, but she still wanted to get Tucker out of here sooner rather than later. She looked outside of the cage, but she couldn’t hear any students still at the school. It was well past 3:00, after all, they would be on their way home. But the teachers wouldn’t leave for a couple hours yet.

“Do your parents have like, alarms that go off when one of their traps goes off?” Sam asked, turning back to Danny.

Danny tightened his grip on the bar of the cage. “Mm-hmm,” he said. Sam could see his hand shaking a little bit.

“Okay,” Sam said, turning to face Tucker. “They’ll probably be here pretty soon then.”

But Tucker was still looking back at Danny. “Dude,” he said. “They’ll be here soon. You don’t have to freak out.”

“I’m fine,” Danny said, with a voice that was distinctly not.

“Oh, he’s fine,” Sam snapped, rolling her eyes, and returning her glare to outside the cage. “He just can’t stand being in the same place as people he knows he’s fucked over.”

“Sam,” Tucker said quietly, leaning close enough that Danny wouldn’t be able to hear. “I think he’s really scared of something.”

“Oh please,” Sam said, not bothering to keep her voice quiet at all. “What, just ‘cause we’re caught in a ghost trap—” she stopped.

When she thought about it, it was a real possibility. Before he had kicked her and Tucker to the curb without a second thought, they’d known he was terrified of ghosts. He vanished as soon as they appeared, and didn’t show up until after they were gone. Neither of them had ever known where he went, but he’d always looked worse for wear or shaken when he came back.

And right now they were dangling in a cage meant to trap ghosts. It wasn’t an impossible leap that one would show up.

“Danny?” Sam said, despite herself.

Danny looked over at her, and yeah, now that she wasn’t denying it, the scared mouse look in his eyes was obvious.

“Hey, we’re in a cage meant to trap ghosts,” she said, keeping her voice low and being as comforting as she could stomach. “Why would any of them come here voluntarily?”

But that didn’t seem to help. If anything, it just made it worse. Danny gripped the bar so tight Sam almost thought it bent, but that was impossible. Then he shifted so Sam couldn’t see the bar and leaned his head back against the cage, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Hey, dude,” Tucker said. “It’s okay.”

Danny just glared at him. “Leave me alone,” he snapped, which, honestly, Sam wasn’t sure what she should have expected.

“Danny,” Tucker said, because he didn’t get the memo. “Seriously, dude. It’s okay. We’re gonna be fine. You said it yourself, the cage isn’t gonna break and drop us.”

Danny just shook his head and pressed his head back against the bars, squeezing his eyes closed again. Tucker didn’t say anything else, and neither did Danny.

Sam paused and looked at Danny for a moment, taking in the hunched shoulders and the tension in his face and the shaking hands. He really was scared of something. But if it wasn’t the ghosts, then what was it?

A voice came suddenly from down below, loud and familiar. “It should be just this way, Mads!”

Danny’s eyes shot wide open and he pressed himself back further against the wall of the cage, gaze instantly dropping to scan the ground below them all.

Wait, he wasn’t…

A second later, Mr Fenton appeared, followed closely by Mrs Fenton, and both of them looked eagerly up at the cage.

But as soon as they say who it was, their grins dropped.

“Danny? Sam? Tucker?” Mrs Fenton asked in concern, stepping towards them.

“Uh, sorry Mom,” Danny said, waving. Sam wouldn’t have seen the way his hand was shaking if she wasn’t looking for it. “One of your traps caught me again.”

Again?

“Oh, for pete’s sake,” Mrs Fenton said, putting her hands on her hips. “I don’t understand why they keep doing that.”

“Don’t worry Danno, we’ll have you down in a jiffy!” Mr Fenton called. He aimed his ecto gun at the rope above the cage.

“Uh, wait,” Sam called. “Maybe don’t—”

He fired before she could finish, leaving Sam just enough time to spin around and pull Tucker’s already-injured head into her chest before the cage started to fall. She held Tucker there tightly until it hit the ground a second later, which— ow.

“Okay,” Sam said, pushing herself back into a sitting position. “There really wasn’t a better way to do that?”

“Sorry, sweetie,” Mrs Fenton said as Mr Fenton went to work firing at the bars at the spots where none of them were sitting. “We designed it for ghosts, you know. Obviously we’re not going to give them an easy way down.”

Sam didn’t know quite what to say to that. After a second, she looked across the cage at Danny, and found him warily eyeing Mr Fenton firing at the bars.

Sam turned to face Tucker. “You okay?” she asked.

Tucker nodded, and when he pulled back from Sam’s chest she saw that his wound didn’t look any worse. They’d just head home and let his parents look at it. He’d be alright.

“Sorry about that kids,” Mrs Fenton said, as Mr Fenton slung his ecto gun back over his shoulder, having successfully blown apart enough of the bars for them to get out. “A lot of our equipment seems to react to Danny for some reason. We’re still trying to figure out why.”

Sam looked back over at Danny, who was pulling himself up using one of the bars and not even seeming to notice the fresh cut on his elbow, probably from when they fell.

“Alright, it’s back to the drawing books with this one,” Mrs Fenton said to Mr Fenton. “We’re gonna have to figure out why it’s not working before we try using it again.”

“Yeah, I know,” Mr Fenton said with a sigh. He turned back to face the rest of them. “Do any of you need a ride home? Danno, you want to come with us?”

“I’m okay,” Danny said. Sam shook her head, and Tucker did the same after her.

“Alright, then we’ll see you at home Danno! Sorry again!”

And with that, the two of them walked back towards the school, already talking about how they could potentially fix the cage.

Sam stared after them for a second, not sure what she was feeling.

The first one of them to move towards the shot-open-exit was Danny, and she could see him trying to take deep breaths as he did. As soon as he got out, however, he turned and waited for both of them to do the same.

“Is your head okay?” he asked, looking at Tucker.

“Uh, is your elbow okay?” Tucker asked.

Danny looked down at the wrong elbow first, which was definitely… something. Then he switched to his injured one and just kind of stared at it for a moment.

Instead of responding to Tucker’s question, he looked away from his elbow and stepped forward, then started peering at Tucker’s wound like he actually knew what he was looking at.

“It’s a head wound,” he said after a second. “They look a lot worse than they are. Just watch it and make sure it doesn’t get worse. It doesn’t need stitches.”

“Uh, thanks?” Tucker said hesitantly. “How… how do you…”

“Bye,” Danny said, and walked away before either of them could even start thinking about saying anything else.

Regardless, neither of them said anything for a long pause after he left.

Finally, Tucker turned to face her. “Sam,” he said slowly. “He was scared of his parents.”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed, as the pieces clicked together horrifyingly in her head. “So, we’re officially the worst friends ever, huh.”

…

Okay, upon thinking about it, they probably weren’t actually the worst friends ever. Danny had still walked up to them and directly said that he didn’t want to be friends anymore and that he wanted them to leave him alone. There wasn’t much they could do about that. But if Danny’s parents had been… that, and they hadn’t noticed, that officially made them terrible friends.

And Sam had a pretty good guess as to why she hadn’t noticed. She hadn’t wanted to believe Jack and Maddie Fenton were capable of it. She’d known them almost her whole life too, after all, just like Danny. She and Tucker had sleepovers with them in charge as little kids, they’d played games, they’d grown and matured and learned lessons with them, they’d been disciplined by them before, they’d asked questions about growing up and had gotten answers, just like they had with their own parents. She hadn’t been able to imagine them hurting her on purpose.

And maybe they weren’t actually hurting Danny on purpose. Maybe they hadn’t realized Danny had gotten hurt yesterday. They clearly hadn’t realized that Tucker had. Maybe if they realized that their inventions were actually hurting Danny, they’d stop. Maybe they didn’t realize the toll this was taking on him. There were a million maybes.

But in the end, the maybes didn’t matter. Because Danny still looked scared when he heard it was them coming. He’d still reacted like it was perfectly normal that he’d fallen fifty feet and his elbow was bleeding. He’d still known whether Tucker’s head needed stitches or not.

(And maybe the other maybes were plausible too. Maybe it wasn’t indirect. Maybe they’d gotten mad that Danny had broken one too many of their inventions, through no fault of his own, and they had—)

But no matter which maybes were true, the way all of it was affecting Danny was a fact. And Sam didn’t even need to talk to Tucker to know that both of them agreed they weren’t going to let Danny deal with it on his own anymore.

So, at lunch the next day they searched around until they found Danny. Somehow, he’d ended up with a lunch tray on the roof.

He looked more stunned than Sam had ever seen him when she managed to push the trap door in the ceiling open and climbed out.

“God, Danny,” she said, pulling herself exhaustedly up and reaching back to help Tucker as soon as she did. “Could you pick a place to hide that’s less impossible to get to?”

“What are you doing here?” Danny asked, scooting back on the roof.

“We came to eat lunch,” Tucker said, letting his and Sam’s lunch boxes slide off of his arms and drop to the roof. Sam grabbed hers and walked over and sat down next to Danny, and Tucker followed just behind her.

“What— I told you—”

“Yeah, and we’re telling you to stuff it,” Tucker said. “Danny, we’ve been friends since the second grade. If you were gonna get tired of us you’d have done it before now.”

Danny looked away. “I—”

“You don’t have to talk about it,” Sam said, and Danny turned to her with wide eyes. “Whatever it is you’re not telling us? You don’t have to talk about it until you’re ready. Okay? Just stop trying to push us away, idiot. We’re not going anywhere.”

Danny looked down at his lunch. “I don’t want you to get hurt,” he whispered.

Sam exchanged a worried glance with Tucker. Then she took a deep breath and reached out to grab Danny’s hand.

“That’s not on you to worry about,” she said firmly. “That’s not your responsibility.”

Danny shook his head, like he disagreed, but Sam cut him off by squeezing his hand.

“Dude, if we get hurt because we’re your friends, then it’s on whoever’s doing the hurting,” Tucker said. “Not on you.”

Danny didn’t say anything, but after a second, he squeezed Sam’s hand back, which she was going to take as an answer.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, almost too quiet to hear.

Tucker reached out and put his hand over the top of both of theirs. “It’s okay,” he said, and Sam nodded.

“We’re staying here, with you,” she agreed. “No matter what.”

#danny phantom #sam manson #tucker foley #danny fenton #jack fenton #maddie fenton #tw blood #tw injury #tw implied abuse #no one knows au #my fic

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codacheetah · 3 days

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AGREE WITH YOUR PREVIOUS POST. I like mean Loop as a facade only, but we know they still care and love...

Now I have a question, what's your favorite Loop takes/headcanon

Oh my god I'm so sorry I took like two weeks to answer this one I prommy it's not bc I'm exclusively a hater or whatever. I just straight up forgot to answer Oopsie. I'm putting this under cut bc it got long enough that you all would shoot arrows at me for putting it on your dash

Anyways there's a lot of Loop Thangs I like frankly. A big one that I enjoy is when fic authors in postcanon make the transition of Loop into the party structure kind of rocky. Usually bc Loop's neuroses creating a level 12 psychic barrier between them and the party + the inherent awkwardness of meeting somebody who's apparently super close in a way (that you'll never fully understand) to one of your friends. Who let's be real I feel like half the party (coughIsabeauandMirabelle) would catch the aura of "oh they do not like us at all" from Loop. I want Loop to be happy and with their family but you just know this bitch is going to make it as difficult for themself on purpose. The Siffrin Special.

I also just generally like when they keep Loop as a star postcanon. I'm not at all a hater towards Human Loop (in fact I think it can be itself an interesting setup for a Loop fic) but I do like Loop as a star more thematically. Something about having to accept that things have changed and moving on from it regardless. Also bc Loop being dysphoric about their body scratches a very transgender projection itch in my brain Yessss little star you're stuck in a body that draws unwanted attention and which you have no control over how it looks and functions in a way that feels fundamentally wrong to you. (Pointing at canonically transgender character) Yooooo this guy is such a cool trans allegory omg

Hmm what else. This is more of a sloops thing but I always enjoy in fics when they lean into the fact it's selfcest frankly. I've become a selfcest enjoyer bc of this ship I'll never get over that act 5 dialogue abt the cautionary tale where Siffrin says he never understood the moral of the story bc the idea of having somebody just like him who understands him. Oh my gyoooooooooooooooood. I want them to melt into sludge I'm always thinking of that analogy from superflyghtheart on discord comparing Loop and Siffrin to endlings of an endangered species. 💥💥💥It's like. This is less sloopy now but I'm caught between the intersection in my head of "Loop would probably benefit from developing their own identity as a person separate from Siffrin bc they need Something they have control over" and "Loop is of the Siffrin Species and they are significantly too sentimental to let go of the shreds of what they used to have, especially after having lost all of it once already". Both of these things are yummy as fuck when ppl smarter than me explore them and they're kinda the main Story Paths for postcanon Loop anyways so I'm always winning. So like idk tldr I like it both when ppl have Loop diverge a lot as a person and when they have Loop try their best to stay as much of a Siffrin as possible!

I'm limiting myself to four paragraphs so you don't all want to hit me with hammers but I do have Loop Biology Headcanons. I've explained mythoughts on their guts before and don't feel like recounting them but whatever True #codacheetahwarriors remember my deranged rambling. ANYWAYS I kind of mentally run on the assumption of Loop's body as like. The Universe couldn't keep Loop in Siffrin's body, bc they needed Siffrin to be in it (and I guess a system situation introduces too many factors of its own? idk). The Universe operates with the goal of fulfilling wishes with the least intervention possible, so The Universe makes a body out of cheap inorganic material (star-scrap basically). Miniature star for a head fueling the body with Craft energy (I'm not going to get into my conspiracy that all Craft is the same here). Molds the star scrap into a vaguely Siffrin-shaped/sized vessel and plonks Loop's conscious into it and calls it a day. So Loop's body as a poor simulacrum of a human body is like. They're capable of breathing but they only really benefit from doing it on a psychological level. They can't eat or drink and don't have a mouth because it would require a significant level of added effort to make a digestive system, when they can just derive energy from their star. They don't have reproductive organs because they're not made from organic material anymore anyways. They don't need to sleep bc their body never gets tired but they still do it because it's not really a great idea to leave your brain on running for too long anyways.

I fucking lied I'm on paragraph five bc the block of text is annoying me. To continue that's all a preface to say I think it's super fun when Loop has body functions that are weird and unpredictable. Their little frizzles on their body are reactive to their emotions the same way their headstar is, and feel like static if you touch them. Their head has a vague boundary so their eyes have something to be rooted to but the function by which their optic nerves work is unclear to everybody including themself. They glow based on intensity of emotion and the temperature of their star changes via specific mood. Bc I think it would be fun if the battlefield in twohats when from ice cold to boiling hot frankly. Ok these are all just my headcanons (temperature one very loose though I'm not a hard subscriber to it) but they're not uniquely mine it's just examples of what I mean. One I don't have as a personal headcanon but I do enjoy is when Loop feels the same physical sensations as Siffrin bc it's funny and I like inflicting misery on the star.

I'm going to shut up now like actually . Loop for your troubles

#isat loop #isat spoilers #asks #Hi Tumblr user timephase. I'm so sorry #Aiming my crosshair at you bc you allowed me to talk about Loop #sorry if this is actually impossible to parse this is one of those days where typing legibly is hard to do. sometimes i can format things #niceys but you get rambletime from me 2day #i didn't even really get into loop takes!!! what da fuck!!!#maybe another time #once more i unleash an overly wordy textpost that doesnt make much sense onto you guys. and once more the sun sets

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alltheirdamn · 2 days

Text

Chapter 1: Opening Day

Series summary: You've seen it all as the team's lead photographer. You're in the tunnel before the games, on the sidelines for each inning, and always around the players. When Frankie Morales is called up for the new season, you find yourself drawn to him in ways you can't quite explain. Chapter summary: It's opening day at Petco Park, and you finally meet the team's new star catcher. Rating: 18+ (Eventual smut) Word Count: 5k Tags: Triple Frontier AU, OFC! character described as having red hair and freckles, meet-cute, two big dummies bound to catch feelings, mutual pining, slow burn, future smut, duel pov, baseball terminology, etc. A/N: Hi!!! Well, welcome to the series! I'm really excited to share this lil story with you all. I've never really written an OC! before, so hopefully I don't totally butcher it. Anyway, I'm a bit nervous but please enjoy!

Masterlist | Baseball 101

Point. Click.

The camera shutter echoes through the stadium tunnel as you settle into your usual game-day routine. It’s your third year on the media team for the Padres, and you’re beyond eager for the new season to begin. Nothing beats the thrill of baseball season, and it definitely doesn’t suck when an endless array of beautiful men in tight polyester uniforms surrounds you.

Perched on the ground, you angle your camera down the tunnel to capture the boys as they arrive. Benny Miller, the team’s starting shortstop, waltzes through the hall after a few managers get their head start. He’s got on his usual athleisure wear, a workout bag slung over his back, and his blonde hair tousled in a way that’s both messy and intentional.

Point. Click.

“Welcome back, Benny,” you say, your camera angled a bit higher to adjust to his height.

“Hey to you too, Red,” he grins.

America’s heartthrob, you think.

Not far behind him is his brother, Will—or Ironhead, as they all call him. He’s been a vet on the team for nearly five years and is one of the top left-handed pitchers in the league. No doubt, with last season's standings, he’ll take them far this year. He’s got the best ERA out of any team in the National League, and his brotherly dynamic with Benny is unmatched. The only difference between Will and Benny, though, is their personalities. Where Benny is outgoing—and a bit flirtatious—Will is reserved and collected. He’s the voice of reason and the glue that holds the entire time together.

“Hey, Will!”

You snap a quick photo, all too aware of how much he hates the attention. He gives you a subtle nod and continues down the tunnel behind Benny.

Santiago Garcia is the next to make his entrance, his infectious smile perfect for a candid moment. Santi was the rookie outfielder last year, securing himself a spot in the All-Star Game with his defensive playing in center field against the stronger teams. You’ve never seen such an arm on someone, and the way he commands the field is wildly impressive. His gigantic ego and self-assurance are also quite impressive and sometimes a bit aggravating. But, you let it slide. He’s a sweet man through and through and has, thankfully, never hit on you.

Unlike the majority of the sports world.

Especially when it comes to women working in the media industry.

You’re convinced Santi has some sort of sixth sense for the camera because the moment you line up for the shot, he’s already sporting a wide grin directed straight at you.

“Hola, Red,” he says, waving in your direction.

“You know I have a real name, right?” You toss back.

“Whatever you say, Red.”

You roll your eyes as he walks past you, chuckling to yourself as you scroll through the photos logged into your camera. Making a mental note of which to select for the social media posts, you realign the camera back to eye level and squint through the lens.

The team's newest addition walks straight down the tunnel, with his head low and eyes covered by the visor of his ballcap. Francisco Morales had been called up from triple just a week before opening day. You hadn’t read up much on him or his stats, but you know he’s done quite the work as the catcher for the El Paso Chihuahuas. There had been talks of who they’d have replacing Tom Davis after his season-ending injury last year, and Francisco was their best prospect.

“Welcome to the team, Francisco!” You holler before snapping a photo.

He barely glances up, but you catch a rosy tint coloring the tanned skin of his face and a slight twitch in the corner of his lips. He’s dressed far differently than the other boys: loose khaki pants, a basic cotton shirt, and a suede bomber jacket. He doesn’t even carry a bag with him, just a plastic bottle of water gripped tightly in one very large hand.

You’ve been with the team long enough to know his personality is far more reserved than the rest, a bit sheepish and uncomfortable, even. Maybe that’s just the game-day jitters getting to him.

“Can I get one of you looking at the camera?” You ask before adding a polite please at the end.

He hesitates but ultimately obliges. Through the camera lens, you meet his eyes—the soft, warm brown of his irises boring into you so intensely it causes you to falter over the shutter button. Like any baseball player, he’s got that signature scruffy face, with a distinct mustache over his plush lips and a patchy beard covering his jaw. Despite his introverted demeanor, Francisco steals the air from your lungs just from a simple glance. It’s as if he’s giving you this one moment to capture who he is, and you take it without hesitation.

Point. Click.

“Thank you, Francisco. Good luck today!”

You’re acutely aware of how shaky your voice is, which is unusual given that he hasn’t even spoken to you.

“Frankie,” he offers as he walks past.

The raspy low pitch of his voice reverbs inside your head, and you only manage to nod in agreement to his wishes.

Frankie. You can do that.

“So, what are your predictions for game one?” Ryan asks, nudging you slightly.

You’re both crouched behind home plate shooting pre-game warmup photos, the volume in the stadium growing as more fans trickle in. You switch out your sim card and set up your camera for action shots, too focused on getting the right angle of the outfielders to respond.

Ryan has been your partner in crime on the media team since the start, and both of you got hired right out of college. While you focus more on the game-day action, Ryan usually tends to the off-day social media posts and team engagement with fans. It’s a fair trade-off, plus you’re far more invested in the sport than Ryan is ever willing to admit.

“Hellllooo?” He waves a hand in front of your camera lens.

“I don’t like giving predictions, Ryan. You know that,” you grumble.

“You and your weird superstitions, Red.”

“It’s not weird,” you counter. “Don’t you ever pay attention to the broadcasting curse? If I say something aloud, it’s bound to go the other way, and my hopes will be crushed.”

Ryan adjusts the focus on his lens, shrugging absently at your argument.

“It’s the first game. Even if they lose today, there’s still six months left in the season.”

“No one wants to lose their first game.”

“You care too much,” he says, but there’s a lightness in his tone.

He knows you care more than you let on. Baseball has been something ingrained in you since you were just a kid. Your dad spent the greater half of his life as the pitching coach for UCLA, dragging you to nearly every game of the season since before you could even walk. You were raised sitting in the dugout with a handful of sunflower seeds in your hand and a baseball cap covering your red hair. Being a part of a baseball team in some capacity had always been in your future, but after your dad passed away when you were just starting college, you centered your entire life around it. You threw yourself into photography, taking every chance at capturing moments that could give you just a second of nostalgia. The photos weren’t just for school, a baseball team, or a social media page… they were for you. It was your way of coping. The longer you could stay on the field, the longer you could live in that bubble of the past.

Your dad was gone, but you still had baseball. And you’d never give it up.

“Think Morales is gonna make his mark on the team?” Ryan asks, steering the subject in a different direction.

You tense up, locked on the memory of Frankie’s big brown eyes. There’s something about him that skyrockets your heart rate, and you aren’t sure if it’s in a good way. You search the field for those dark curls, looking at everybody on the field, trying to spot him during the warmup. Crestfallen, you give up your search and resume snapping photos.

“I think he’ll do just fine,” you say dismissively.

“His batting average in the minors was insane,” Ryan rambles. “Just hopes it sticks here in the big leagues. You know how it is sometimes.”

You did know. Too often, have you seen star minor league players appear on the big stage and choke. Something about Frankie Morales makes you believe he won’t end up like that. There was something in his eyes that told you otherwise, a seriousness that showed this game meant something to him.

You liked that.

“Where’s your station for the game?” Ryan asks.

“First base. I might have to step into the bullpen for some shots if they let me.”

“I’m sure the boys will love that,” he teases.

“Oh, fuck off. They’re harmless.”

“I don’t know, Red. I see the way they look at you.”

You deadpan, giving him an icy stare. None of the boys thought of you that way, and you didn’t think of them differently. This was a job. They played the game; you took the photos.

That was the end of it.

“I think you’re seeing things,” you argue.

“I mean, Benny is giving you fuck me eyes from across the field right now,” Ryan shrugs.

You steal a glance out to the in-field to find Ryan is, in fact, correct. With his free hand, Benny tosses you a flirtatious wave before throwing the ball back to Santi across the field.

“He flirts with everyone,” you say pointedly. “Did you see how many girls he brought back to his hotel rooms last season?”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t mind adding one more.”

You punch Ryan in the arm, clearly annoyed with his pushy behavior toward the subject. Grabbing your equipment bag from the ground, you toss him a quick finger and haul your stuff down to the media room under the stadium.

Frankie isn’t in the right mindset when the National Anthem concludes before the game. He’s not one to get nervous before playing, but something about seeing Petco Park sold out for opening day has him fidgeting. The only saving grace is having Santi playing alongside him.

He and Santi met back in college, playing together from Sophomore year until Senior year when they got drafted to different teams. Santi was selected in the third round by the Houston Astros and was traded a year later to the Padres. Frankie got drafted by the Padres right away in the fifth round. He spent the last four years in the minors, just waiting to get called up.

Now, the moment is here, and he’s terrified.

Frankie doesn’t like to admit it often, but he holds himself to a higher standard. He’s fucked up in life a few times, and it’s cost him his happiness. He doesn’t want to fuck up now. Not when the entire world is watching.

“Estás bien?” Santi asks Frankie as they head into the dugout.

“I’m fine,” Frankie says, but his tone says otherwise.

There’s a haze over his mind, a fog he can’t shake. Santi claps him on the back, giving him a comforting smile.

“It’s just first-game nerves, Catfish. It’ll pass after the first at-bat.”

Frankie doesn’t respond. He’s got a lump in his throat, and he can’t quite swallow it. The last thing he wants to do is disappoint his closest friend—or the team. He can’t be a disappointment. He has to be good. He has to be the best.

He has to prove himself.

Frankie runs out onto the field, securing his catcher's mask over his face. The weight of his gear feels like a comforting anchor, leveraging him to keep his mind focused. There’s a roar from the crowd as he takes his place behind home base, and the applause and cheers only make things worse. He’s under the lights, he’s got thousands watching, and this is his one shot.

The first pitch comes fast, a sinker that falls perfectly into his glove. Strike one. Will is on the mound, his face stoic and focused on the batter standing to the right of Frankie. There’s still some trust to gain between them both, and Frankie hopes he proves himself today. Will throws a slider next, down low and right past the bat.

Strike two.

Like a well-rehearsed dance, Frankie and Will waltz between batters. An easy one, two, three, and they’re out of the top of the first. Frankie runs alongside Will as they head toward the dugout, the tension in his shoulders relaxing.

“Great job out there, Morales,” Will says. “Welcome to the show.”

“Thanks, Miller. You’re solid on the mound. Those sliders are insane,” Frankie commends.

“Gotta keep them on their toes. Now, get ready for the bottom of the inning. Show them what you can do out there.”

As Frankie steps into the dugout, he nearly collides with a body nestled into the corner of the steps. Her red hair is tousled into a ponytail, the bill of her Padres ball cap shielding her eyes from the setting sun.

“Shit, sorry,” she mumbles, stepping out of the way.

He recognizes her from earlier, the media girl in the tunnel. Frankie was so wrapped up in his thoughts earlier he hadn’t noticed how beautiful she was: bright eyes, a gentle smile, and a face covered in freckles.

“All good,” he huffs, too flustered to choke out any more words.

“You look good out there,” she smiles.

Frankie runs a hand through his sweat-soaked hair, no doubt looking a mess. He needs to focus—needs to move—but he can’t seem to make his way past her.

“Be careful with Akin’s pitches,” she adds. “He tends to throw his fastballs up in the corner of the zone.”

“Thanks,” Frankie nods. He’s surprised at how much she pays attention.

“Yo! Catfish!” Santi calls from down in the dugout. “Get your ass over here now.”

“I’m assuming you’re Catfish?” She asks.

“Unfortunately,” Frankie grumbles. “Sorry, I’m just gonna go see what he wants.”

“It’s all good. I’m moving down to first base, so I’ll be out of the way.”

She rises to her feet and gives Frankie one final smile before stepping onto the dirt. Frankie watches as she walks away, her ponytail swinging behind her with every step.

Focus.

Halfway through the batting order, you’re already onto your next sim card. You usually space out the amount of footage you take, but the game is electric. The Padres are up three to zero, thanks to a home run from Benny—obviously—and a few quick plays made by Santi and Chris Holmes.

With two outs in the sixth, Frankie is up to bat. His first plate appearance was abysmal, with a groundout to third base. You saw his shoulders slumped as he walked off the field; he didn’t take it lightly. It’s just the first game, you tell yourself. He’ll do just fine.

Akin throws the first pitch, a fastball, just as you expect. Frankie takes the strike and readjusts himself for the next pitch. It’s outside the zone, and he tracks it carefully. You hold your breath as he hits a full count, three balls, two strikes… and wait. Akin places a screwball down low, but Frankie manages to get a piece of it and sends it sailing into center field for a double. You startle yourself with how loud you cheer, watching his muscled body run past first and onto second base. You’re so caught up in watching him you forget to snap a photo.

You scold yourself for missing the opportunity to capture his first hit for the team. Why are you so fixated on him? None of the other guys have ever caused you to miss a shot; no one has ever tripped you up this badly. But Frankie… there’s just something about him. He’s not self-assured like the rest. He’s not cocky in the slightest. Honestly, he looked terrified when you ran into him after the top of the first inning. Before your mind starts wandering off, you check the settings on your camera and return to shooting footage.

The team wins five to zero. Fireworks sparkle through the night sky as the stadium begins to clear out, and you start to return to the dugout. Benny and Will are in a tight embrace as you step under the awning, your camera gear slung over your back.

“Great win, boys,” you say, giving them each a high five.

“Did you ever doubt us?” Benny teases, giving you a smug grin.

“Not for a minute.”

The Miller brothers make their way down into the clubhouse, leaving you standing alone in the dugout. You peel off your ballcap and remove your ponytail, letting your hair fall down your shoulders.

“Thanks for the advice on Akin.”

The voice startles you, and you search through the shadows to find Frankie sitting alone at the end of the bench. He’s got his glove resting beside him and his bat propped between his feet. He should be celebrating with the team down in the clubhouse, yet he’s here by himself under the stadium lights and swirling shadows.

“I’ve got plenty more if you ever need it,” you tell him.

Frankie doesn’t respond, but his eyes stay locked on yours. The stadium lights illuminate the rich chocolate inside his irises, making it nearly impossible to look anywhere else.

“Shouldn’t you be with the team?” You wonder. “I’m sure they’re all celebrating the first win of the season.”

“Just wanted some time alone, I guess. Soak it all in, you know?”

You walk toward him, cautious on whether or not to get any closer. You aren’t sure if he even wants company, but you can’t seem to steer yourself away.

“Was it everything you hoped for?” You ask.

“It could’ve been better.”

Frankie moves his glove into his lap, offering you a space beside him on the bench. Though you feel reluctant, something inside you forces your legs to move. You want to be nearer to him, to get close enough to see past this wall he’s built up. You’re used to some players being quiet and shy, like Will. At least with Will, though, he’s fun when there’s no stress on his shoulders. He relaxes a bit from time to time and lets his guard down. Something you’ve yet to see with Frankie.

Sliding onto the bench beside him, you adjust your camera into your lap and lay your ballcap over your knee. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Frankie’s head tilt slightly, his eyes trained on your legs. There’s still a healthy gap between you both, yet the warmth of his body swarms around you.

“Are you with the team full-time?” He asks.

You glance at him, studying the way his hair curls around his ears and at the base of his neck. There’s a tension in his jaw that flexes under his beard, a simple twitch that happens after every time he speaks. Despite the timid exterior, you can’t help but to notice the softness in his eyes when he looks at you.

“Mostly just for home games,” you explain. “I only really travel with the team if they invite me on the road. They like having extra media presence for the bigger series, and whatnot. If I could be at every game, I absolutely would. Sitting on the sidelines beats having to watch it on the TV or listening to the radio.”

Frankie nods along as you talk, his lips pursed as if he’s thinking of what to say. Avoiding any more awkward silence, you flick on your camera and scroll through the photos, presenting him with a few you’d taken during his first appearance at the plate. His arm brushes yours slightly as he leans in closer, staring at the photo far longer than you expect.

“I kind of fucked up and forgot to take a photo of you after that double in sixth,” you admit. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t be,” he shakes his head. “I like this one.”

It’s a photo of him swinging at a curveball, his bat posed perfectly in the center of the box, and his muscular thighs flexed under his pinstripe uniform. You have to admit, it is a good shot—and he looks amazing mid-swing. Your eyes flick up to his, realizing he’s already looking at you. Thank God for the shadows inside the dugout, or else Frankie would see the way your face warms at his words. You don’t ever share your footage with the guys until it’s posted on the social media pages, but it feels different with Frankie. It strangely feels nice.

“I feel like an asshole, I don’t think I’ve even asked for your name,” he says.

“The guy’s normally just call me Red,” you shrug.

“But that’s not your name.”

You tell him your name, and listen to his gentle voice echo it back. It’s rare you hear your name nowadays. Everyone just refers to you as ‘Red’, like it’s who you are. It doesn’t bother you, necessarily, but finally hearing someone acknowledge you makes your stomach flip. Frankie’s eyes never leave yours, and you realize how close you both have gotten. His leg is pressed against yours, and you can still faintly smell the turf on his uniform. He must notice it, too, because he clears his throat and shifts his legs inward. Shutting your camera off, you let it rest in your lap between your hands. There’s a quiet buzz between your bodies, a comfortable cocoon of shared silence that seems to swell with each passing second.

“I, um, I should probably head down there with the guys,” Frankie says after a while.

“Yeah, of course. I’m sorry if I kept you too long.”

Frankie rises from the bench, his thick fingers wrapping around the neck of his bat. He offers you a hand, and you shrink under his height as you move to stand.

“I didn’t mind the company.”

There’s a hint of a smile on his face, just an easy curve of his lips as he stares at you a moment longer. You should move. You should definitely move.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Frankie,” you say. “Great job out there tonight.”

“Thank you.” He says your name, again, emphasizing it as if to prove a point. A gentle reminder that you’re more than just a nickname.

“What took you so long, Catfish?” Santi yells from across the clubhouse.

He’s already showered and got on his casual clothes for the drive home, something Frankie should have been doing. Instead, he had been helplessly wasting time sitting next to the photographer he had seen around all day.

Frankie tears his baseball cap off his head, tossing it into his locker as he unbuttons his uniform. He’s still mentally picking apart the day—what he did wrong, what he could improve on—but in each thought, her shiny red hair and doe eyes make a reappearance. Shaking his head, he strips off his undershirt and searches through his stall for a fresh one.

“Got to chatting with the team photographer,” he says, shrugging the shirt over his chest.

Santi leans against the locker stall, his mouth quirked up in a teasing grin. Frankie already knows what he’s going to say, and he regrets ever mentioning it.

“Distracted by Red, huh?” Santi teases. “She’s got that affect.”

“She’s not distracting,” Frankie defends. “She just came down to show me some of the pictures she took, and we talked a bit. That’s all.”

He hopes his clipped words are enough to steer Santi away from the conversation, but Santi can see right through him.

“Red never shows anyone her photos. None of us ever see what she’s got on that camera until they’re online.”

For some reason, Frankie loves knowing he’s the exception. He saw the way she lit up as she scrolled through the footage, clearly proud of her work. Hell, he doesn’t even care she missed his big play. She spent that time in the dugout with him while his mind was a mess, and gave him a reprieve from the clouded thoughts that the game left him with. Was it awful that he was only looking forward to tomorrow’s game so he could see her again?

“Maybe she feels bad for me, I don’t know,” Frankie huffs.

He slips on his jacket and runs a hand through his hair before putting on his hat. Santi watches him suspiciously, tracking the tense movements Frankie makes as he gathers his stuff to leave.

“She’s a nice girl, you know, and she knows her shit, too. Hell, half the guys have tried to grab her attention the last few years, and she’s never been interested.”

“What makes you think she’s interested in me?”

“I don’t know,” Santi drawls out the words. “Guess we’ll just have to see what she posts tonight.”

Frankie rolls his eyes, shoving past Santi and out of the clubhouse. He steers clear of the other guys as they walk together out to their cars. No one has said much to him yet, and he’s okay with it. Frankie knows he’s the new guy and it’ll take some time for everyone to warm up to him. The only person that seems to be welcoming so far, was Red. Maybe that’s just who she was, but Frankie found himself working Santi’s words over and over inside his head. Red never shows anyone her photos. What made Frankie so special, then? Was he right to think she felt bad for him? If she hadn’t been interested in anyone else, then why did she spend that time with him?

The apartment is pitch black when Frankie opens the door. Flicking on the lights, he takes in the empty space. Moving boxes scatter the hallway, leading into the renovated kitchen. Frankie barely got the keys to his new place in San Diego two days ago, leaving him little time to settle in before opening day. After this series he’ll be on the road for a week, without any time to get acclimated. Traveling never bothered him, but he wished he could just stop and breathe for one minute. You wanted this, he reminds himself. He’s worked too hard the last several years to let this opportunity pass. The boxes can wait, at least for now.

Tossing his jacket onto the back of the sofa, Frankie slumps against the cushions, scrubbing a hand over his face. He’s been itching to look at his phone since he left the stadium, but he held off. Guess we’ll just have to see what she posts tonight. Digging out his phone from his pocket, Frankie opens Instagram and refreshes the page. Sure enough, the media team already made a post-game slideshow…with Frankie’s at-bat being the first photo.

The same one he told her he liked the most.

His thumb hovers over the post as he debates whether or not to look at the rest. He’s already got his one photo, there wouldn’t be any need to give fans more. Yet, as he slides his thumb left over the screen, there’s another photo of himself—from the pre-game walk through the tunnel. Even though his eyes are staring directly into the camera, he knows that wasn’t what he was looking at. His entire focus had been on the girl behind the camera.

Frankie opens the team’s Instagram page and scrolls through the ‘following’ tab, searching for her name. It’s just innocent curiosity, that’s all it is, but as he finds her name down the list, he’s tempted to press the button. The blue Follow button taunts him, begging him to make the move. Her profile picture is a simple mirror shot, half her face covered by her camera. He wants to see more, like this odd desperation to know her past the lens she hides behind. Before he talks his way out of it, Frankie taps Follow, and sends his phone sailing across the room. It hits the carpet with a soft thud, and sits there silent on the ground. He tips his head back against the couch, pitching the bridge of his nose. God, he feels stupid.

A soft buzz resounds through the room. Frankie slides his eyes toward his phone, seeing the carpet illuminated by the screen. Just a coincidence, he thinks. Despite the denial he spews inside his mind, he moves from the couch to retrieve his phone.

Red has accepted your follow request.

Red started following you.

Frankie stares at the screen with a stupid grin on his face. He scrolls through her page, finding a surplus of photographs of the stadium, the beach, and a few cityscape shots from various cities. There isn’t a single photo of her, though. He studies each of photo, wondering what she saw through the lens of the camera, wishing he could see just one of her face. As he makes his way down her page, a message notification pops onto the screen.

Red: I hope it’s okay I posted that photo of you.

Frankie: Absolutely.

Red: Ok, good. I liked it, too.

Frankie: Santi told me you don’t show anyone your photos.

Red: Of course he did. LOL. I’m just protective over my work. I like to keep things private.

Frankie: Why’d you show them to me?

Frankie watches as text bubbles appear and disappear over and over for at least a minute. He half considers turning his phone off for the night to avoid her response. He shouldn’t care why she showed him, but the thought of it would keep him up all night, wondering why he was deserving of it and not anyone else. His phone buzzes in his hands, and Frankie quickly opens the message.

Red: I don’t know. You’re the only person I really felt like sharing it with.

Frankie: I feel honored. Any time you want to share them, I’m always around.

Red: I’m holding you to that.

Frankie thinks of a million things to reply with, but his fingers don’t move; all he can think about is seeing her again tomorrow.

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