#GUYS I AM SO FUCKING PROUD OF THIS LIGHTING YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND

[eosofhearts]

lighting study that got WAYY out of hand. rivals in the club what will they do

[eddiernunson]

I Can Do It With A Broken Heart | Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader | 18+

Summary: You and Eddie have both had crap luck on dates lately, nothing that can't be fixed with a strawberry milkshake. However, he gets asked out on a date and it goes well...until it turns your life on its head and he forgets how to pick up the phone. You don't even care that he's dating someone else you just want your best friend back.

Warnings: idiots in love, best friends to lovers, ANGST, brief EddiexChrissy, ooc Chrissy, attempted SA, bestfriend!Steve, and needy, desperate smut that makes it all worth it.

Thanks to @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you for editing bestie

I’m astounded at the response to the preview I posted last week. Thank you so much for the love, I hope you enjoy all 40k (20k wtf did my brain go)

-

As you pull up to the little house at the end of the street, you look over to the sweet boy with blonde hair and green eyes nervously, curtaining a strand of hair behind one ear. He shoots you a smirk, white pearly teeth peeking from behind pretty pink lips. The date has gone phenomenally well, the conversation over dinner was easy and your date even easier on the eyes. You smooth your hands over the dress you’re wearing, picking at imaginary lint as you’re entirely unsure of what to say next.

Daniel, your date, leans onto the center console, the scent of his minty breath roping you in. “So, dinner was like, forty dollars.”

Your brows pinch together, the topic of conversation coming from left field.

���And the flowers were about twenty.” He says, his voice hinting at a subtext lost on you.

You think back to the flowers, a cascade of spring colours that drenched you in their floral scent. They sit on your dresser in a vase, waiting eagerly for you to come home.

“Okay…?” You ask, unsure of what he’s getting at.

Daniel sighs, suddenly the frustration you didn’t see before is clear on his face. “Well, I think I deserve some compensation for the princess treatment, don’t you think?”

He’s raising his brow suggestively, and the atmosphere in the car turns thick as you realize what he’s referring to. You feel so stupid. Suddenly the smirk on his face isn’t sweet, it’s sleazy. The cologne he’s wearing isn’t earthy, it’s gross. He’s not a good guy, and you feel foolish for thinking otherwise.

You think fast, lowering your eyelashes in a feigned blush. “Actually, I think it deserves just a little more than that. Be right back, I’m going to grab a condom.” You wink as you get out, the cherry on top.

Daniel lights right up, apparently not expecting his ridiculous method to work. The sound of him undoing his belt makes you nearly gag as you run in the front door.

Your dad, the sweetheart of a single father he is, welcomes you with a kind smile until he sees your crestfallen face. “You okay?”

“No,” you choke back, tears threatening to fall down your cheeks. “He’s demanding I repay him for dinner.”

“Repay?” You tilt your head, inferring what it means. “Oh. Fucking twerp. You need me to–”

“Can I have 60 bucks?” You interrupt him, avoiding his angry eyes.

He melts. “Sure.”

You walk back out the door, head held high right to the little corvette that sits at the end with the cheeky asshole sitting contently, waiting for his treat. The window is still open from earlier in the night, which works right in your favor.

“Here,” you toss the bills at him, allowing a small smile to grace your face at his confusion. “Since you’re so worried about being paid.”

As soon as he understands what you’re telling him, his face curves into a scowl, embarrassed, but too proud to say so. “Like I wanted to do it with Eddie Munson’s slut anyway!”

Halfway back up to the house, you turn back to the car as the engine growls into the night. How does that make sense? you wonder. Why am I being called a slut when I refused to put out?

The front door to your house slams shut again, and your dad receives the message that you would not like to talk about it. “Ed called just now, by the way,” he mentions as you reach the top of the stairs. Your pause in gait tells him you heard him, but you don’t respond because you can hear the smirk he wears, as much as you repeatedly tell him that Eddie is just a friend.

The flowers you thought so fondly of now have a looming presence in your room, like a dark shadow menacingly waiting in the corner. You ignore them as you lift the pastel phone to your ear, dialing the number you know by heart.

He picks up on the first ring. “Hi, sweetheart.” Relief washes over you, instant and comforting.

“Hey, Eds. How was your date?” You and he had the same plans tonight, you just hope it turned out better for him.

“It sucked,” he sighs, sounding like he’s rummaging through his messy chest of drawers. “She didn’t want a date, I guess.”

“Well what did she want?” You ask, going through your own drawers for something comfier to wear.

“Uh, to be shown a good time,” he answers dryly, the sound of rummaging coming to a sudden stop. “Heard the rumors of Munson’s magic fingers and apparently only wanted that.”

Yikes, you think. Eddie’s had many hook ups in the back of his van, but as of late he’s finding himself defeated when they don’t want him, just what he can do for them. Your heart hurt for him last week when he admitted they rarely, if ever, reciprocated.

You didn’t think it’d be an appropriate moment to tell him you would happily reciprocate for him.

“That’s extremely shitty. Guess it’s not all that different from my date though, who expected payback from spending a lousy sixty bucks.”

“Payback?”

“Asked me to suck his dick and pointed to it,” you say, a million times more bluntly than you could to your dad.

“I knew that Daniel guy was an asshole,” he mutters, mostly to himself. “I think our shitty dates deserve each other.”

You laugh, holding the PJs you plan on wearing as you sit cross legged on your bed. “To be honest, I don’t think Daniel would’ve been all that great in bed anyway.”

“I could’ve told you that. He looks like he would call thirty seconds a long time,” Eddie laughs. “Sit tight, princess, I think we’ve earned pancake night at Benny’s.”

“C’mon, I was just about to get comfy!” You whine.

“Nah, wear the pretty dress. It deserves to see a strawberry milkshake, don’t you agree?”

Honestly, a milkshake night with your best friend is exactly what you need. “Sure. See you in twenty?”

“Eh, ten.”

You throw out the flowers, tossing the vase full of water into the kitchen sink, shrugging when your dad gives you an apologetic look. You certainly are already over it, just another asshole in Hawkins, who would’ve thought? When the loud music from Eddie’s stereo pulls up, your dad nods in understanding, telling you to have fun as you leave through the front door.

The date night dress you wear is a summer dress that sits just above your knees, held together by spaghetti straps decorated with pretty blue florals. It's a dress you go to for formal events, and even saw a dance or two back in high school. Of course, you had to dust it off for the cute boy in your Psych class who ended up being a complete dickwad.

The fabric of Eddie’s beat up van is familiar. So familiar that you could argue his passenger seat has a permanent indent from your ass. Eddie has, in fact, pointed it out from one night stoned in the back with him, giggling as you vehemently denied it. At your sudden quiet shut down stature, he patted your ass gently, claiming that he didn’t want any other person’s ass planted on his seat except yours.

That conversation, as hazy as it was, stayed in your mind for days after the fact.

Eddie’s dressed in his own version of a date night outfit, tight jeans exposing his knees with jagged rips under a leather jacket and plain black t-shirt. He’s gorgeous, tauntingly so. It’s not much different from an ordinary outfit, but the faint smell of fresh laundry detergent and his best cologne is the best evidence he’s all dressed up.

The loud music speaks for him, loudly, pulling off before your seatbelt is even clicked into place.

The path from your house to Benny’s is well trekked by you and Eddie on late nights when you should’ve been doing homework but ended up goofing off instead. Martha, a waitress that’s been working there well over twenty years, smiles with smeared red lipstick and too much blue eyeshadow.

You walk in stride with each other, straight to the corner booth as the husk of 20 years of chain smoking barks over the gentle music, “Hey, you two! Eddie, are you finally taking this girl of yours on a date?”

Shut up, you silently beg her, avoiding either of their eyes as you stare at your lap, seemingly fixated on a loose thread at the hem of your dress.

“Oh, I’m not that lucky,” Eddie winks, throwing his arm behind you on the back of the booth. “We’re just recovering after shitty dates.”

“One day, you two,” she muses, tapping her pen rhythmically on her little notepad. It’s never been the same notepad twice, always decorated with a little cartoon sticker on the front. You’re tempted to run to the dollar store and grab her a larger one, but a part of you thinks she thrives on her many little notepads. “Alright, a large strawberry milkshake with two straws, pancakes with extra strawberry sauce and fresh strawberries on top, and waffles loaded with whipped cream and sprinkles. Correct?”

You nod in unison, both aware that she insists you will collectively rot the teeth out from your gums if you insist on overdosing with sugar every damn time you waltz in late at night. She’s given up offering other menu items, having ordered extra strawberries just to make up for your love of the fruit.

Less than five minutes later, following the blissful sound of a blender, the milkshake is wordlessly dropped off at the table, closer to you as even Martha knows you will be drinking 75% of it. The sweet, pinky taste flows easily down your throat, humming softly as you dip into the whipped cream with a finger. “Best milkshake in town,” You assert.

“I wouldn’t know,” Eddie answers, smirking, “you never let us get a milkshake from anywhere else!”

You giggle, licking some of the whipped cream that found a home in the corner of your mouth. “I could never! It would be like cheating! This milkshake would just know,” you drop your voice to a whisper, “it would smell the other milkshakes on me!”

“We couldn’t have that,” Eddie grins, grabbing the large glass to take a sip. “Sorry your date was such a jerk.”

You shrug, already having gotten over it. You’ll just need to sit on the other side of the lecture hall from now on. “He seemed so nice.”

“No offense, sweetheart, but I could’ve told you that Daniel Moore was a shitty person,” Eddie finishes another sip of the milkshake, making a large dip in the glass as the pink slush is pulled up the straw. “He likes to instigate.”

You rest your chin on your elbow, sad the milkshake is already nearly gone. “I had just hoped he would’ve matured by now…”

“In seven months?” Eddie asks you incredulously, raising his brows past his curly bangs. His expression quickly turns curious, tilting his head at you.

“What?”

“So, you’re willing to bet that Daniel Moore has improved just based on personal speculation alone but you’re not willing to believe me when I say Steve Harrington is no longer a douche?”

You roll your eyes. God, you should’ve seen this one coming. “That’s different! I only heard about Daniel. Steve Harrington actually sat back and laughed when Tommy asked–”

“You out as a joke, yeah, I know, I’ve heard it before,” Eddie mumbles, grinning at your shocked expression. “Well, that was like what, three years ago?”

“I still can’t believe you’re friends with Steve Harrington now, of all people! Listen, I know he’s also Dustin’s friend, but I find it hard to believe that you guys even have something in common,” You shrug.

“I still can’t believe you refuse to give him another chance!” Eddie playfully retorts, licking some of the whipped cream that still sits on the rim of the glass. “He’s in your Sociology class, isn’t he?”

Yeah, and he seems to insist on forcing his friendship on you, too, no matter how much you resist it. If you found friendship in Eddie, it seems reasonable to find friendship with Steve, too. Yet, there’s a little part that remembers the cruel laughter, his carelessness with others’ lives, and it ripples down your spine in a violent shudder.

You haven’t gotten rid of the notion of being his friend completely, but it’s just not the right time for you, yet.

You shrug. The topic has too much nuance for a nice dinner with your best friend. Just in time, Martha wordlessly drops off the two plates, the smile that spreads across your face is effortless. Zachary, the night chef must’ve heard about the shitty night and added extra for you, because the mountain of strawberries on the table is huge, even for your standards.

Eddie smirks, reading your mind. “You gonna finish all those?”

“Absolutely!”

-

Eddie sits on one side of the open courtyard, flicking off ashes from his cigarette as he waits for you to get out of class. He mentally reflects on his crazy afternoon, taking another long, much needed drag. The car with the million symptoms was one thing, but the proposition he got right before, he couldn’t wrap his head around it.

It’s been 13 days since Daniel, four awkward classes of avoiding his glare, and you’ve decided to give up on boys completely. The one you want doesn’t want you, and the dates you’re going on don’t seem to do well no matter who you say yes to. The two offers you’ve gotten in the last week were therefore denied, realizing that even if they are cute, you don’t want to lead anyone on when your heart belongs to someone else.

Before the aforementioned date, you were practically begging for someone to ask you out, but for some inexplicable reason, now you’re getting offers left and right. Somehow people just know when you’re playing hard to get.

At least Eddie’s dates seem to be going terribly for him, as well. That’s one thing you can thankfully count on.

The puff of smoke that leaves his lips as you approach him should not be as gorgeous as it is. It’s practically unfair. “Hey, Eds.”

He flicks the filter, killing it on the cement table he sits at as he blows out one more puff. “Hey, sweetheart.”

Just from that particular look in his eye, you can tell something is on his mind. “You okay, there, Munson?”

He smirks, effortlessly standing up. “I suppose. I’m not sure how to react. Or how you’ll react.”

Your brows meet your hairline, watching his mind move at a million miles per hour. “Ok, Eddie, this better be about a new class of creatures in DnD, or something, because you’re scaring me.”

He smiles, nodding his head over to the halls that lead toward the front door of the campus. “Someone asked me out on a date, earlier, today.”

Your brows furrow, biting back the jealousy that eats at your chest. Every little part of you holds back the monster that threatens to claw its way out, to snarl and hiss at every girl that even so much as looks at him wrong. It’s hard to bite it back, to choke on it purposely, but if you must, you will.

It tastes like venom as you swallow it back down. “Oh, who?”

A faint pink spreads across Eddie’s cheeks, much to your dismay. Not once, in your fuck, what, seven, eight years, of friendship have you ever managed to see Eddie blush. (Just once but it was when you nearly walked in on him jerking himself off a few short years ago.) “Who?”

“Um Chrissy. Chrissy Cunningham?”

Your jaw drops, but your gut falls through the floor. You swear you hear it smash through the tiled floors and fall into the depths of hell.

“She asked you out?”

“Hey! Don’t act so surprised! A cheerleader could like me!”

That was the last thing on your mind. Of course a cheerleader could like Eddie, they’d be stupid not to. No. Every other girl that Eddie has either slept with, or gone on a date with brought no worry to your head, competition, per se. But a girl like Chrissy, one with pretty blonde curls, adorable smile and a sweet disposition, it’s like your worst nightmare come true.

Thanks to living in such a small town, you can recall 99% of the names that Eddie had told you, whether they be hookups or a date. Most of them didn’t intimidate you, only because, selfishly, you could nitpick at things you think wouldn’t work out with Eddie. Whether they were too vapid, too shallow, had none of the same interests as him, only shallowly liked him for his looks, or was a bully…you had something to give great comfort to you to prevent that little jealousy monster from clawing its way out.

This time, your brain wracked itself for some sort of answer. Some sort of flaw in the Queen of Hawkins High that could settle this uneasiness that has taken over your mind. Nothing. Nothing.

“I’m not surprised a cheerleader could like you, I’m surprised that Chrissy Cunningham asked you out,” you answer candidly, walking in step with him to where you supposed was his van. “I’m guessing you said yes?”

“I’d be crazy not to!” Eddie answered sheepishly, tugging at the sleeves of his leather jacket. “I’m taking her out on Friday night.”

“Ah, you’ll tell Steve to take Creeper off hold for us, then?” You try to keep your tone nonchalant, but bitter jealousy coats your tongue.

Eddie stops mid stride, faltering, his brows pinched as he gives you those big brown eyes. “Shit. It totally slipped my mind.”

This is also new. Even as his dates would happen, any previously made plans with him were always a priority. You just hope this doesn’t become a new habit of his.

“We’ll do it on Saturday, yeah?”

You nod, giving him the comfort you suddenly find yourself craving. From the pep in his step, the rosiness of his cheeks, the warm glint in his eyes, you can tell that he’s truly excited. As a best friend, you try to be happy for him, however hard it is to make the smile on your face even remotely convincing.

Eddie curls his arm around your shoulder, tugging you along with him for what will probably be another afternoon in his room, clouded by a haze of weed.

You smoke more than usual, if anything to allow his excitement and plans for his big date in two days to buzz into the background, the bong hit rippling through your lungs as a punishment for yourself.

-

A weight on your bed suddenly dips down and you sit up quickly to face Eddie sitting on the corner of your mattress with a small smile on his face. Your headphones, still playing the obnoxiously loud music that drowned out his knocks, fall off your head as you sit up. You press the STOP button, clicking loudly in the silence as you stare at your best friend.

The anxiety of his date has eaten you all night long, the only thing strong enough to distract it being music loud enough to hurt your eardrums. You always feel some sort of anxiety, but tonight was even worse, eating at your brain in fear of how painful it might be to be third wheeling with him after being his #1 for so long.

For once, you can’t tell how it went. A slimy, selfish part of you is hoping he shares bad news. His smile breaks. Into a bigger, much brighter beam. Damn.

“How did it go?” You ask, already knowing the answer.

Eddie slams himself onto the bed next to you, hiding his eyes with his hands with his dimples deep, his pearly whites exposed. “Fuck, it was the best date I’ve ever had.”

Your heart shatters. “That good?”

“God, she’s– much better than I thought she could’ve been,” Eddie answers, peeking out from behind his hands. “It’s fucking crazy.”

Of course Chrissy Cunningham, a known sweetheart, is everything he’s ever dreamed of. Of course she lived up to his expectations. Just your luck. “I’m just jealous of your remarkable turn in luck, I guess.”

Eddie chuckles, turning onto his stomach to face you as he kicks his feet. “You’ll have your turn, baby.”

The pet name stings in the worst way. Instead, you raise your brow at him. “Look at you lookin’ like a schoolgirl with a crush. Pretty boy doesn’t even need makeup with all that blush.”

He rolls his eyes, pinching you on the shin. “You’re such a shithead.”

“Yeah, well you still choose to hang out with me anyway, so, that’s on you.” It takes everything in you to ask the following question, “So, tell me about your date, will ya?”

He does. He rattles on and on about how pretty she is, how easy the conversation was, how much she surprised him, how the night ended with a kiss that had Eddie giggling. He lays next to you, leather jacket put aside on the corner chair and boots next to your bunny slippers at the end of your bed. Your small twin mattress has you close in proximity, your side in direct contact with him as he rests his head on his hands.

“She’s such a cool girl, you know?”

You’re half asleep by now, allowing the exhaustion to overwhelm the slight ache in your chest. It zaps through your heart, overwhelms your senses and makes you dizzy. Your eyes flutter shut, but Eddie keeps talking softly next to you.

“Why were you blasting your 8-track, anyway?”

The question harshly yanks you out of the haze, failing to think of something that doesn’t seem completely false. You wish you were a better liar. “Just stressed out about your date.”

He gives you a strange look, eyebrows tilted. “Hmm?”

“We both haven’t had a very good track record, lately, and if things won’t turn around for me, then at least they should do one of us a favor.” Not, not the truth, but definitely an over exaggerated version of it.

“You’re so good to me, you know?” Eddie asks, intertwining his hand with yours. “Wasting your anxiety on me.”

The rings are harsh against your skin, squeezing your fingers tightly. The physical hurt is almost comforting in direct contrast to your emotional hurt.

His scent is comforting, as it lures you like the pied piper into the land of sleep. It’s about another twenty minutes until he realizes there are soft snores coming from you. He doesn’t care to drive all the way home, despite it only being a five minute drive away.

He falls asleep to your comforting breaths, allowing your hand to remain engulfed in his.

-

The loud ringing of your phone jerks you awake, quickly crawling to the side of your bed as you grab it from the dock housed on the floor.

“Hello?” Sleep sits deep in your voice, spelling out clearly to your caller that you just woke up.

It just occurs to you that you could’ve just allowed your dad to answer it.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Eddie’s voice is chipper, alarmingly so since you’re not even awake yet.

“You sound way too awake for someone that didn’t believe in waking up before 1pm,” you quip, rubbing your eyes sleepily.

“Ha,” he deadpans, yet it's clear he’s smiling. “Chris wants to meet you. I mean, I know you’ve already met her, but you know, as my girlfriend?”

Ugh. It’s been a harrowing three weeks. “Yeah, sure. What did you want to do with her?”

“I thought we could introduce her to pancake night,” Eddie sheepishly answers, like he knows you would be hesitant to invite someone into your holy ritual.

Yeah. You don’t want to invite her. But…you asked for patience last month and it seemed that the universe has answered with a lovesick Eddie Munson.

“I don’t see why not,” you lie, finding it rolls off the tongue much easier than it used to.

“You’re the best! I’ll see after you study in the library, yeah?” He knows your schedule. On Thursdays after the morning Sociology class, you opt to crawl up into a small corner and hermit yourself with snacks and a pile of books to get the work that needs to be done finished.

In high school, you could get away with doing minimum work and passing, but with your dad paying and barely able to afford it even with his second job, it sent the need to do your work to the best of your ability for once. You owed him at least that much from all the calls of missed classes for four years straight.

“Sure.”

As you stretch while hanging up the phone, you glance over to the alarm clock to see the time and it lurches you forward in bed to scramble for clothes, textbooks, and scattered papers as your lecture starts in less than twenty minutes. You’re usually already sitting in the seat by then.

On your way out the door, your dad is surprised you’re still home, offering to drive you. You don’t want to burden him even more than you already have, so you insist you can ride your bike and still get there on time. Well, at least you hope you can.

The bike rack is nearly full when you get to the college, six or seven locks messily put around the poles, most bikes already fallen over. You jam your bike in between two of them, hurriedly wrangling the annoying coil of sturdy cable between what you’re sure is entangled in someone else’s lock, too. Whatever, they should’ve been more organized.

The clock on the wall tells you class started three minutes ago and your heart falls to your stomach, knowing the professor is a stickler for punctuality. His words falter as soon as you enter the hall, the heavy door echoing its creak against the walls. He graciously allows you to sit and get situated before he continues. He makes examples of every late student, and you figured you would never be in his laser eyed focus. Well, before your alarm decided not to go off.

The last chair available is the corner chair in the front row, the one spot in class you love to avoid. It’s too close for comfort, a place he often chooses for students to answer his questions even if they don’t raise their hand.

That, and it’s right beside Steve Harrington.

His fingers raise from the desk as a greeting, sharing a sweet smile as you start to collect your textbook and notes. You awkwardly smile back at him, your attention snapped back to the professor as he pointedly talks right at your desk in his lecture. Fuck, this’ll be annoying.

By the time the three hour lecture ends, your hand hurts from the amount of notes you wrote down, one side covered in graphite from smudging the paper. Your stomach grumbles, asking loudly for lunch after neglecting to eat breakfast as usual.

Unbeknownst to you, Steve follows a step behind. “That lecture was brutal,” You hear from behind you. You toss your head over your shoulder to glance back at him before turning back around.

“I guess.” You say awkwardly. Here we go again.

“Out of curiosity, how are Eddie and his new girlfriend doing? Chrissy Cunningham, huh? I cannot say I saw that coming.”

Neither did you. “They’re doing great, from what I hear. Haven’t really met her, yet,” you answer, heading straight to the small cafe that has a home in the heart of the campus. “Listen, Steve, I really don’t want to talk about this right now.”

“Why not? You don’t think he’s happy with her, or something?”

You stop midstep, turning to face him. “It’s not that. I just don’t have the capacity for it, ok?”

“You like him,” Steve accuses, his brows meeting his hairline.

Your jaw drops, stuttering through an empty sentence. “I do not like him!”

“Really?” Steve laughs, crossing his arms as he watches you build a brick wall around yourself. “So you not wanting to talk about his new girlfriend has nothing to do with the way your face fell when I asked about it?”

How the hell did Steve Harrington pick up on it so fast, of all people?

“Even if I did, why the hell would I want to talk about it with someone I don’t even know?” You sigh, looking wistfully over to the cafe. “Besides, I’m not even caffeinated yet.”

Steve rolls his eyes, nodding towards the said cafe. “Here, if I treat you to some coffee will you talk to me about it?”

“If you add a wrap to the deal, then I’ll think about it,” You say dryly, pulling a laugh from him.

The barista, a student who you’ve gotten to know is somehow managing to do pre-law and work part time smiles nicely.

“I’ll get a vanilla latte with nonfat milk and an extra pump of vanilla, please.”

Steve raises his brow at you before making his own order, “I’ll get a medium black coffee with room for creamer, please, and whatever this lady wants from the menu.”

You scan until you reach the egg omelet wrap with mushroom, bell peppers, and tomatoes. “The loaded omelet wrap.”

After Steve pays he meets you on the handout counter. “Why nonfat milk and the extra pump of vanilla?”

“If I get nonfat then I can replace the sugar with the extra vanilla.”

“Pretty sure that’s not how that works.”

You pick up the cup as it lands on the counter, wincing at the temperature on your tongue. “It works.”

Steve grabs his, shaking his head as he makes his way over to pour some creamer in.

The wrap is soon presented as well, steaming in its cardboard sleeve as the scent alone pools on your tongue with saliva. The only thing that got you through that lecture was just the thought of lunch.

Steve meets you at a two-top by the window, setting his own bag down as he sits right across from you.

The omelet, much too hot to eat, sits waiting for you on the chestnut brown table as you sip on the latte. The latte is much too hot as well, but you’ve never had enough patience to wait for that caffeine kick. If you weren’t so afraid of your professor’s wrath you would’ve shown up another ten minutes late with a coffee cup in hand.

Steve allows you and himself a few minutes of quiet before he speaks. “So, why don’t you tell him?”

You cough mid sip, mentally apologizing to your lungs for allowing non-oxygen to make its way in. “I’m sorry?”

“Stop pretending. Eddie was dead on when he said you were a bad liar,” Steve says, grinning with stupid smirk on his face.

“Why have you and Eddie talked about me?” You ask, narrowing your glance towards him.

“Are you kidding? You’re all he talks about,” Steve shrugs, so nonchalant that you have no choice but to believe him. “Kind of annoying, actually.”

“Why?”

“I have to hear about how great of a friend this girl is but also how she can’t stand me.”

You huff in laughter at how distraught he genuinely seems by it, his face contorted into someone who definitely isn’t used to rejection. You cock an eyebrow at him. “Can you exactly blame me?”

“Yes! I can! Everybody loves me!” Steve rolls his eyes playfully, and damn it if you can’t help but find it mildly amusing.

“Hate to break it to you, there, sweetheart, but the people who were picked on by you don’t exactly crave to be around your oh-so-wonderful presence.”

He squints, crossing his arms as he leans forward. “Picked on? I mean that’s a little harsh, considering–”

“Fine, yes, you didn’t exactly jeer, or outright bully even, but you watched and laughed along and sometimes that feels even worse,” you admit, feeling suddenly small under his gaze. “Tommy and Carol said shit, that’s just what they did… But sitting back and watching sometimes is just as bad. You were nice, sometimes, I guess. But the fact that you had that capacity for kindness and chose against it just spoke volumes.”

“I met them in seventh grade. They weren’t as bad back then, mostly just somewhat belligerent. They got worse over time, but we all had terrible home lives, it was like we were the only ones that got what that was like…and somewhere along the way, I forgot that just because we had an excuse didn’t mean they had the right.”

“I guess that makes sense,” you answer, glancing at the omelet, debating taking your first steaming bite. “I mean, I’m not condoning it, but sometimes loyalty can be blinding.”

“I’m not that douche, anymore. I got that knocked out of me when I was seventeen. Literally. Now I spend most of my free time with a high school junior,” he laughs, taking another large sip of his coffee.

“Aah, Dustin,” you hum, thinking of the many instances where he had tried to convince you of what Steve had just told you. What made you so insistent on denying believing in either of your friends seems to dissipate, however, just in the friendliness that Steve radiates alone. Damn his charisma. “Would you believe me if I said he vouched for you many times?”

“The kid loves me, what can I say?” He shrugs, not hiding his laughter. “Now. Back to you. Why not tell him?”

No use in hiding it. If Steve can bare his soul in the middle of the day at a damn cafe just to get you to trust him, you suppose you owed him the same. “‘Cause he doesn’t feel the same,” you answer, starting to peel open the snack from the hunger pang. “Why make it weird when there’s nothing that could come from it?” You shrug, looking down sheepishly as the weight of your words sink into your heart like a stone.

“Doesn’t like you. Are you sure about that?” Steve asks, licking his lips.

You hesitate. “Is this a trick question?”

“Nope. I just wonder if you truly believe it, or if you’re too scared to let yourself have something you’ve wanted for so long.”

“Where do you get off on acting like you’re some sort of expert on this?” You ask, folding your arms across your chest. The question rings out from the mere fact that he is dead on the nose. He couldn’t be any more right. The very idea that Eddie had even an inkling of what you had for him scares you to death. You would rather keep him as a friend and lie in wait than lose him from a great love and not have him at all.

“I’m more observant than most people give me credit for,” he admits, twirling his almost empty coffee cup. “I’ve heard countless hours of Eddie talking about you, yet I haven’t heard him speak once about Chrissy. That says a lot, don’t you think?”

“Well, me neither, and I’m his best friend. Don’t get down on your luck.”

“You are both idiots. Just tell him. Seriously. I’m sick of you both acting like a pair of love sick fools.”

“You seem to be very convinced of something that is not real,” you tell him, garbled from the bite of omelet you’re in the middle of swallowing. “If you keep this energy up when you’re studying, you would probably do pretty well for yourself.”

“Fine. Remain in denial. I don’t care. You can destroy yourself from the inside. Who cares? Just, let me in. I need someone to help me with these assignments. They are mind numbingly dull.” He throws his hands up like he’s admitting defeat.

“You need a study buddy?” You laugh, hiding the food that sits in between bites. “I suppose that could be arranged.”

“Sweet. Now are you gonna treat me to a coffee every now and then, or?”

“I have a single father, not an unlimited credit card from Daddy’s big business, Steve Harrington.” You say matter-of-factly, jabbing your finger towards him accusingly.

“Oh, so I have to provide the newly released movies and buy the coffee, I see how it is.”

“Privilege breeds responsibility, Stevie. I don’t make the rules.” You give him a half smirk. As you look at him, you’re finally seeing the person you thought could see all those years ago behind the mask of his terrible friends. Steve’s ambush would be the best thing to come out of the next few weeks.

Because it turned into hell.

-

As your hair runs wild behind you, there’s a grand attempt to allow yourself to let the wind distract you from the sinking feeling in your gut. It grows bigger and bigger, until it becomes unbearable as you reach the gravel lining the trailer park. You allow your bike to fall heavily on the trailer, taking a moment to collect your courage before knocking on Eddie’s front door.

It feels weird knocking. You can’t even recall the last time you did. But, you refuse to overstep any boundaries that might not be communicated yet. Being on Chrissy’s good side will make your life a lot easier.

Eddie answers the door, out of breath and sweating with wild eyes and even crazier hair. “Hey!”

“Hey,” you greet, stepping in right behind him. You blink, taking in the pristine surroundings. It’s like stepping into an alternate dimension, one where Eddie and Wayne regularly cleaned their trailer and preferred the smell of lavender over stale beer and greasy pizza boxes. The kitchen is spotless, the living room has a lit candle sitting on the coffee table, and the shelves containing the million mugs were dusted. “Who are you and what the hell did you do with my best friend?” You laugh.

He chuckles sheepishly, crossing his arms in front of his chest as protection. “Uh, is it too much?”

“Better warn her now so she doesn’t get used to cleanliness,” you answer, watching as the surfaces around you sparkle and shine.

“Ha, ha. I have to get dressed. I have some snacks on the kitchen counter. You mind starting the popcorn?” Eddie doesn’t bother waiting for you to answer, already walking to his room.

You get a glimpse of his bedroom as he shuts the door behind him, smirking at the clothes still scattered on his floor. At least one part of this little haven of yours remains normal.

The popcorn shakes in your hold as you continually stir it on the stove to prevent it from sticking to the bottom of the thin aluminum bottom and burning. Just as the first batch of kernels reach their limit, a knock from the front door hits, each one feeling like a crack in any normalcy you’ve ever had.

Things will never feel the same ever again. Not after tonight. On your way to open the door you try to tell yourself that it can be a good thing.

Right?

The door opens to the once head cheerleader of Hawkins High, wearing a pink dress that fits her tiny frame nicely with blonde curls and bangs that beautifully frame her face. Her hands are folded behind her back, standing meekly in white sneakers and long lashes and blue eyeshadow. It’s hard not to be envious of how pretty she is.

It’s clear she’s not expecting you to open the door. “Hey! Sorry, Eddie’s just in his room. He should be out any minute.”

“Oh. Ok,” she enters as you back up, wringing her hands together, probably out of anxiety. “What movie did he rent?”

“You know, I was so busy making fun of him for cleaning up for once I didn’t bother to ask,” you admit, hoping to make the atmosphere just a little bit lighter.

She looks around the place, seemingly taking it in. “Hmm,” she hums, walking over to the couch. “It’s cute when they try so hard.”

“Sure,” you answer, walking back to the kitchen, hoping the popcorn isn’t irredeemably burnt. “Do you want butter on the popcorn?”

“Yes please!”

You’re in the middle of mentally begging Eddie to come out already while the butter melts in the microwave, the hum of the microwave loud in the silence.

“Okay! I’m ready!” Eddie announces, opening the bedroom door with a flourish. “Sorry for the wait!”

As he gets to the couch behind Chrissy, he wraps her in a big hug and plants kisses all over her neck. “How you doin’, sweetheart?”

You hold back the nausea as you pour the hot butter all over the popcorn in the large plastic bowl. You find it ironic that this is the same bowl you’ve held back Eddie’s hair over as he hurled into it. You just hope Wayne thoroughly cleaned it.

“Popcorn is ready, can y’all help me bring the chips and candy?” You ask, shaking the bowl to coat the butter over each kernel.

“We can do that,” Eddie answers, grabbing Chrissy’s hand as they walk to the kitchen.

“How can I help?” Chrissy asks, arms open as she looks around a kitchen she has no familiarity with.

“Um there’s some soda in the fridge, grab me and Ed a Coke, and you can grab yourself whatever you want,” you answer, pointing to the twenty year old fridge in the corner.

“Hand me some,” you command, holding a single hand for one of the many bags of snacks Eddie juggles.

The popcorn and a couple dozen little bags land on the coffee table in front of a blank tv screen. Chrissy sits with a soft grunt in between the two of you, cradling the cans of coke and sprite in her tiny arms.

She distributes the cans, handing them over to you and him. Eddie squats in front of the TV, pressing play on the tape which he apparently already prepared to watch. His plaid boxers peek out of his jeans, sitting above the studded belt as he adjusts volume and picture.

You share a smile with the blonde, opening your can and wincing at the loud hiss. You keep thinking about the days you and Chrissy will look back on how awkward this was. How the first days of this trio were so weird, and off putting, and how she thought you were a bitch when she met you.

Where she’s a friend.

You have to try.

“What are we watching?”

Eddie turns around slowly, that over exaggerated smile on his face that tells you he’s up to nothing but trouble. “Oh just a little somethin’”

“Oh god,” you wince, knowing that look on his face. You lean into her, whispering, “Hope you like horror.”

Chrissy turns to you with wide eyes and a queasy smile. “Not really.”

“Oh, this one is a classic,” Eddie promises, animatedly using his hands as he crouch-walks back next to her. “If any movie can turn someone into a horror fan, it’s this one.”

As soon as the music starts playing you recognize it. It’s a tune you’ve heard many times in his living room, subjected to it too many times if you had anything to say about it. Of course, you’ll watch it with him every time, regardless.

“Halloween? Seriously? The serial killer stalking the babysitter? You couldn’t think of anything else?” You roll your eyes. He could probably do a whole reenactment of the movie word for word if he tried.

“It’s a classic for a reason, sweetheart,” Eddie tells you, grabbing the bowl straight away. Of course, he will rip through the popcorn, he always does.

You feel Chrissy tense up, not that you can blame her. You suppose a talk about proper pet names will be necessary.

Each bag of snacks is eventually opened because you can’t stick to one bag long enough to finish it even if you tried. You get bored of the same taste too often. You have your favorite few, fuzzy peaches, M&Ms, Reese's Pieces, Swedish fish, and last and most controversially, at least where Eddie’s concerned, salt and vinegar chips.

He always has his own snacks at his disposal from nights of having the munchies, always on a dollar store run for said snacks. At each movie night he restocks, both yours and his alike, and suddenly you realize you will need to remember Chrissy’s too, if you’re going to be cordial.

With each bloody death that splatters the walls on screen, Chrissy grows closer and closer to Eddie. There’s a part of you that has considered using scary movies to cuddle up to him, but you’re just not genuinely scared of them enough to consider it. The ruse would’ve faded eventually. You try not to let the jealousy eat you up from the inside, no matter how much it burns your skin.

His arm wraps around her, petting her shoulder gently as she whimpers at the slash of his knife. “It’s corn syrup. Totally fake. You can tell by the color, it’s way too bright.”

Towards the end, the loud, chirpy, nauseating sound of kissing fills your ears. Your eyes can’t help it, they move towards the noise and immediately regret it. Oh god, they’re kissing. If you can even call that kissing. He’s practically engulfed her mouth.

Surely, with the company they have, they’ll stop, right? Their heads will remember and sheepishly get the fuck off each other? Right?

Two scenes and what feels like forever, later, you realize how wrong you are. “I’m glad you two are crazy for each other, really I am, but can we please wait until I’m gone?” You give an awkward laugh to try to stifle the discomfort coursing through your veins.

Eddie makes a surprised sound, almost like he completely forgot you were there. “Shit–sorry.”

Chrissy doesn’t make any apologies, in fact, you miss the way she rolls her eyes against his chest. She wanted to keep going, hoping you would take her hint to get lost.

Before long, the end of the movie finally arrives, the end credits rolling with that famous piano tune. Chrissy has practically stitched herself to Eddie’s side, her arms wrapped around his waist. The popcorn bowl is nearly full. All that work on it for nothing.

You sigh, about to claim that it’s your cue to leave when–

“I’m thinking we should show Chrissy one of our pancake nights, don’t ya think?”

No. You don’t want that. From the way Chrissy completely tenses up, neither does she. But for his sake, you both reluctantly agree.

Hawkins looks a lot different from Eddie’s backseat.

As the ring of the bell against the glass door announces your arrival, Martha’s head snapping up from the magazine she’s buried her nose in. “Hey you two, I was wondering when I would see you again!”

You and Eddie walk directly to the corner booth, as per usual, Chrissy trailing a half step behind him with her left hand intertwined with his right. Before Martha walks up to the booth, she starts the blender, the sound oddly comforting for how uneasy you feel.

“Well, looks like we got ourselves a little straggler! What’s your name darlin’?” She asks, the notebook she now holds a dark purple instead of the red she had last time.

Chrissy stares blankly at her, curling back into him. You don’t remember her being this shy in High School.

“This is Chrissy,” Eddie introduces her, giving her a fond look. “She’s my girlfriend.”

Martha’s penciled brows raise straight to her ruby red hair, the chewing gum loud in her silence. Her surprise only lasts two seconds, shifting into hospitality for the new member. “Welcome to these two’s many, many nights spent here at Benny’s. In fact, could you make them come a little less often. We’re starting to get annoyed at them.” She jokes, throwing a wink at you.

You laugh with Eddie, taking note of the fact that Chrissy is still silent.

“Alright, well I already know what these two want, did you need a second to look over the menu?”

She nods.

“Alright, well, I’ll be right back with your milkshake.”

“Can you make it one medium, one large with two straws?” You ask Martha, sure it would get more awkward if she brought one for you and Eddie to share.

“Oh, sure,” she answers, her voice unusually soft.

Less than five minutes later she returns with two milkshakes and a menu.

“Oh,” Chrissy comments, looking curiously at the pink ice cream drink in front of her. “I don’t really like strawberry. Can I get vanilla instead?”

Your forehead meets the table, punishing yourself. “Shit. I’m so sorry! I didn’t even think to ask.” Eddie apologizes.

“It’s fine.” Chrissy smiles sweetly at him.

“Oh, you gotta eat breakfast, it’s tradition,” Eddie mutters, switching her page to the all day breakfast menu.

“Hmm,” she responds, pointing to one of the menu options. “I think I’ll get the poached egg with the avocado toast.”

“Alright. Should be out quickly,” Martha answers, grabbing the milkshake from them.

“How often do you guys come here?” Chrissy asks, turning her face to Eddie.

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Probably more often than we should. Like when shit goes sideways, or we need a hit of sugar, or when we just feel like bugging Miss Martha, over there.”

“When did you start coming?”

“My junior year,” you answer, smiling at the memory, “his second attempt at senior year, we both didn’t want to go to the stupid school dance, so we decided to get dressed up and come here, instead.”

“Why didn’t you want to go?”

Eddie shrugs, petting her shoulder with his thumb. “We thought it was dumb. Then, we ened up coming back when both of us failed this one really important bio test. Then, by the third time she remembered our orders and had the blender going by the time we sat down.”

Eddie asks how your day was, so you inform him you managed to have a civilized conversation with Steve Harrington. You have an audience for the conversation, one member animatedly interested, the other politely listening.

Polite is definitely the way to describe it, no spark in her eye. At least, not the one she wears when she listens to her boyfriend speak. In fact, you can practically see them glaze over.

Just as you nearly avoid explaining the main topic of the awkward conversation, Martha comes back over with two plates, one for you, one for Chrissy. It’s only half a moment until she’s back with the new milkshake and third plate.

The mountain of strawberries is bigger than average this time, this larger size becoming something you might get used to if the staff continues to spoil you like this. You take another flick of whipped cream from the top of the milkshake, suddenly realizing you’ve barely taken a sip the entire time. Damn, it’s usually half gone by the time you get your food.

“Do you guys order the same thing everytime?” Chrissy asks, looking at both of your plates.

“Yup!” You exclaim, spreading the strawberry sauce around your plate.

Her blonde brows furrow. “Maybe it’s not good to eat this much sugar every time you guys come here,” she comments, cutting at her squishy green toast. It doesn’t look appetizing to you in the least.

“It’s not like we come here every night,” Eddie laughs, spreading his sprinkled whip around the fluffy waffle. “It’s fine to indulge every now and then, you know?”

“Maybe you guys should try something a little healthier?” Chrissy asks, her voice having what you think is a little bit of a bite in it.

“People don’t exactly come here to eat healthy, Chrissy,” you laugh, thinking of the menu item called Heart Attack Jack, which is a burger doused in American Cheese with layers of bacon and a bucket of grease. It’s not going to be a soccer mom’s number one choice for health.

“You don’t have to bite my head off, it was just a suggestion,” Chrissy mutters, curling into herself.

“I-I didn’t,” you reply, very surprised at her knee jerk reaction. “I’m just saying, if we wanted to go somewhere to eat healthy, we probably wouldn’t pick a greasy diner in a small town in the middle of nowhere. Honestly, I’m not sure anywhere in Hawkins really has the healthiest choice.”

“Chris, what she’s trying to say is that eating a crap load of sugar is just tradition at this point,” Eddie says, intertwining her hand with his. “It’s a part of our ritual. You don’t have to eat like us if you don’t want to, we just thought you’d want to be included.”

“It’s just a lot of sugar, is all.” She’s barely taken a chunk out of her food, resembling a bunny in the very small, very tiny bites she continues to take. “Maybe I won’t join you guys next time. I don’t really understand the point.” She says sheepishly.

In the depths of your soul, you feel at that moment you would probably never get along with her, have given up hope on her completely. It wouldn’t be for a handful of weeks until you acknowledge that you had sound reasoning.

The bill is paid, money hitting the table on your and Eddie’s parts, the vanilla milkshake just barely touched. If you knew she wasn’t gonna drink it you would’ve doubled down on the strawberry, Eddie hates vanilla.

As you walk out to the van, trailing behind them as he wraps his arm around her shoulders, you find yourself at an impasse. “Eddie, can you give me a ride home?” Chrissy asks. She moves on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear, “Maybe I can ride you before you drop me off?”

The pancakes you wolfed down churn back up your throat, threatening to make their second appearance for the night.

Eddie’s cheeks flush, his eyes wide as he tugs her in. Guess that answers that question. “Um, do you need a ride?” He asks you, almost avoiding your eyes.

Chrissy’s death stare is plain as day, silently warning you not to take it. Fine, you didn’t want to sit in the van with these two, anyway.

“No, it’s fine. I can grab my bike from the back.”

Chrissy beams, her curls bouncing as she jogs to the passenger seat. You hope your ass imprint is uncomfortable for her.

Eddie returns with the bike, putting it gently down in front of you. “Hey, Ed?”

“Hmm?”

“Might want to teach your girlfriend how to whisper,” you tell him, grabbing the handles from him. “It’s not considered a whisper when everyone in a ten foot radius can hear!” It comes out harsher than you intend it, but with how horribly tonight has gone, you can’t bring yourself to want to apologize.

“Oh, fuck,” Eddie swears, the pink in his cheeks now from embarrassment. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t mention it,” you insist, dismissing it. You had a feeling she said it loud enough for you to hear on purpose, anyway. “Just use protection, ok? We don’t need any more Munsons in this world running around, creating chaos.”

If you got Chrissy pregnant I would actually be sick, is what you mean.

“Shut up,” Eddie laughs, wrapping you in a hug over the bike. “See you next time, slugger.”

That was when you changed from sweetheart to slugger.

-

There’s no whiplash like discovering your best friend is a completely different person when he’s in a relationship. On one hand, phone calls with him are as ordinary as always, teasing and jeering and flush with the familiarity of a best friend.

On the other hand, when you meet with him and his girlfriend, he seems to dampen his wild personality and slice it into ribbons for her sake. It kills you.

Reruns play on the small tv, old cartoons Wayne recorded for a rambunctious little kid in his mix. You’ve watched them enough to know some of them by heart, especially your favorite gags.

Eddie sits in the corner of the couch, curled up with Chrissy on his lap as they talk quietly. They’re low enough you can barely make out what they’re saying, but from the giggles alone, you have no interest in the nausea it would give you.

She was already in his lap when you got there, a sarcastic comment choked back having something to do with maybe getting off, opting to sit on the other end.

“Oh, Ed, the movie is next Friday,” you remind him, taking another sip of the ice cold coke in front of you.

“Remind me what that was?” Eddie asks you, peering his chin over Chrissy’s head.

You narrow your eyes, scoffing in incredulousness. “Uh, hello? I did not wait in line for hours for the Princess Bride just for you to forget!”

“OH, fuck I didn’t realize that was coming up so quickly!” Eddie exclaims, a wild look in his eyes. “Well, shit I’ll make sure to free my oh-so-busy schedule!”

“Sweet.”

“Oh, I totally wanted to see that movie!” Chrissy chirps, sitting up in Eddie’s lap. “Are there any more tickets for the night you guys are going for?”

“It’s been sold out for weeks,” you shrug, chomping on a potato chip. “I stood in line for like six hours that morning.”

“Oh,” she mutters, curling into him.

You wish you could say it doesn’t give you great pleasure to know she won’t be able to crash your movie night.

“You think, uh,” she starts, turning around to face you. “You think I could have your ticket and Eddie could take me?”

You scoff, bewildered that this even crossed her mind. “I beg your pardon?”

“I mean, I really wanted to see it and it doesn’t really make sense for you two to go out for a date, now that he’s dating me…”

“I think you forgot the part where I stood in line for six hours to get these tickets,” you reply, trying to catch Eddie’s eyes. He’s avoiding you.

“And I’m sure we’ll all go next time!” She offers as an almost smug smile plays at her lips.

She can’t be serious. After watching her face, you realize she is fully expecting you to give up your ticket so she can go with him. Guess that Iron Maiden concert coming up this summer is off the table, too, you think, rubbing your eyes tiredly.

You look at him, waiting for him to say something to indicate how ridiculous his girlfriend is being, to stand up for you.

Oh. He’s not going to.

“I really don’t see the big deal.” Chrissy scoffs.

Of course you don’t. “I’m sorry, but I’m not giving you my damn ticket!” you snap. “If you really don’t want Eddie to come with me that badly then I can get Steve to take me.”

Which is ridiculous, Eddie was the one who wanted to see this movie in the first place. It looked like it was about adventure, something Eddie loves in movies. You decided then sure, since his birthday is right after the movie comes out, you’ll stand in line for the tickets then treat him to a fun movie night.

If Chrissy is uncomfortable with that, then that’s her prerogative, but she can choose something else to do with her boyfriend since she wants to so badly. You won’t let her walk all over you.

Chrissy doesn’t answer, but she’s clearly upset by yours. “It’s alright, babe,” Eddie hums, tugging her up against his chest so she curls into him. “I can wait until it comes out. We’ll just rent it, yeah?”

You’re not sure which makes you more nauseous, the fact that he just made a plan with her that won’t come to fruition for six months, or that he had nothing to say in the conversation.

You’ve never felt so unwelcome on his couch. “I’m gonna head home. I’ll see you later.”

Whatever comes out of Eddie’s mouth then falls on deaf ears as you fight the tears that irrationally threaten to spill over your water line. They’re stupid, your emotions are stupid, the movie is stupid.

-

Steve sits on the other side of the light brown table in the library, hunched over some notes as you explain the concept to him once more.

“Ugh, this is ridiculous, I’m going to forget this as soon as we learn it,” Steve whines, rubbing his eyes.

“Well you’re only taking Sociology because you haven’t claimed a major yet and sociology is required in most degrees.”

“That’s true,” he smirks, stretching his arms. “This still is all starting to look like gibberish. I get it, we live in a society in which the rules are not in our favor, why does that have to be studied to this intent?”

You shrug. “It’s fascinating.”

“To who?”

You roll your eyes, wondering how he grew on you like a weed. “Alright, we’ll take a break, then.”

“Any plans upcoming for next Wednesday?”

“Uh, no, at least not that I’m aware of,” you answer, putting your highlighter down. “We were supposed to see the movie for it, but, well you know how that turned out.”

“I’m sure there’s something he’s planning,” Steve assures, tapping his pencil rhythmically. “It’s not like him to not make a spectacle of his birthday.”

That, you agree with.

“Dustin said he hasn’t heard anything about it, either. He almost planned a surprise party for him. You think he’s just taking it easy this year?”

You doubt it, he’s turning 21, after all. Not like hasn’t been going to bars since he was fifteen, but now at least he’d be able to go into a major city with his real ID without getting flagged. Last year he prattled on about plans for this one, how he was gonna have a big rager at Steve’s and drop a whole paycheck on kegs.

You’re sure if he was going to do anything in those next two days, then he would’ve told you by now.

That Wednesday morning, you rise early to the sound of your alarm.

The kitchen counter is already filled with the ingredients you need, preparing for a labor of love. You hook your Walkman to your jeans, listening to the music blaring in your ears as you add one ingredient at a time, watching the batter slowly come to shape.

It’s familiar, your mom’s famous homemade recipe for cake batter. After missing her many cakes and the familiarity of her food, you finally searched for the cards containing her neat print, clearly and concisely telling the reader what her recipes needed.

It became your favorite thing to do when you missed her.

As you pour the batter into each divet in the tray, you recall the first time you thought to make a birthday cupcake for Eddie.

Neither of you cared much for first period, so it was easy to catch him before he woke up. That day you presented a vanilla cupcake with a swirl of black and blue frosting. You learned that morning he hates vanilla.

Every other instance of making him a cupcake has been a litany of flavors, but never vanilla.

As they bake, you whip up the frosting with a hand mixer, hoping the low hum doesn’t wake your father. He works so hard already. Red food coloring turns it from white, the process all too satisfying.

A plastic sandwich bag with the corner cut off is always just enough for you to pipe frosting on, the skilled hand you’ve trained after trial and error working fast.

Your dad always knows on February 19th he will wake up to 11 cupcakes on a big plate.

The pastry sits in a comically large container as you borrow your dads truck, the sun just barely peeking over the horizon as you climb the stairs to the Munson’s front door.

You balance the cupcake in your hand as you head straight down the hall towards Eddie’s room. The sounds filling the trailer take a moment to register, for some reason not realizing how quiet it should be on an early weekday morning. The only sounds should be that of an early bird or newspaper hitting the front door.

Dread finds home in your stomach, as if on a very instinctual level you realize what you’re hearing. Though for some crazy, masochistic reason, those instincts wanted to be sure.

His door, wide open, reveals him hunched over Chrissy with the blanket barely covering his broad shoulders as he’s rocking. He’s rocking…and oh, you can hear her, too.

She’s moaning, whining, clawing her nails up his back like a leech, or worse, a tick, digging itself in and refusing to give up the tight hold they have on their victim.

Your mind goes empty, numb, until you hear her faintly wish him a happy birthday. You blink yourself out of the trance, blindly stumbling back into the fresh air of the living room. The cupcake lands on the kitchen counter on your way out the door, not caring as it slams behind you, definitely alerting Eddie and Chrissy of the third unknown presence in the trailer.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to even care about it, the queasiness deep rooted in your stomach threatening to make itself known on the outside plants.

You have a class in less than an hour, something you need to continue into the second year of your Communications degree, but not something that requires brain power.

The simple question of how you managed to ride your bike all the way to the campus, take notes in your class and blindly walk over to the library will always escape you. You somehow watch yourself go through the motions until you meet Steve at the cafe.

The moment he sees you, he knows something is wrong just by the deadened stare that’s taken over your face.

When you break down into tears, he brings you to his house, letting you finally admit to him what you’ve been afraid to admit to yourself.

You’re in love with your best friend. And while you’re doing your best to be happy for him, your poor heart can’t handle it.

-

The cupcake isn’t mentioned until you call him two days later, still heartbroken, but missing his voice. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, despite the great ache that makes each and every day fuzzy.

Usually, more than half the cupcakes get eaten by him, which is why a dozen are made each year. There’s still more than half left, the very sight of the cupcakes depleting your appetite as his continued absence carves a bigger and bigger hole in you.

He answers on the fifth ring, sounding as if he’s in the middle of rummaging through items in some way, slightly out of breath. “Hey, Chris, sorry I can’t find–”

You swallow the pain. Maybe the lump of pain swallowed in your stomach will finally evict itself like the contents of stomachs should. Yet, the more you throw it up, the more it seems to gather. How does that work? “It’s me.” You say dryly, tiredly.

“Shit,” he breathes, the background noise coming to a sudden halt. “Hey, you.”

“Hey. How was the cupcake?”

“The mysterious appearing pastry was delicious as always, slugger.” Slugger. “What-what time did you drop it off?”

You know that he knows that you heard something. He doesn’t know how much you heard, but he knows the slam of his front door was you.

“I didn’t hear much. Just enough to know you had already received your birthday present for the year,” the attempt at humor doesn’t hit you very well. You’re not sure how it’s received, but Eddie laughs regardless.

“Sorry about that, she slept over the night before unplanned. I should’ve remembered your yearly morning cupcake.”

“Should’ve remembered you have a girlfriend,” you answer, wishing you had that better judgment. “Did you do anything for your birthday?”

“Chris took me out for dinner with her parents.” Honestly, that sounds like it was for her more than it was for him.

“Sounds fun,” you deadpan, earning earnest chuckles from him.

“They’re an acquired taste,” Eddie offers, allowing your slight criticism of his birthday party.

“You sure you still don’t want to go to Indianapolis and bar hop?” You can’t help but ask. It’s like you can hear his reluctance to accept the celebration he got.

“Nah. Besides, we can’t risk your fake ID, after all.” He pauses, an understated sigh passing through his breath. “How has school been?”

Small talk is not often something that passes through a conversation between you two. You’re aware of it, he’s aware of it, and it turns the conversation into something almost jilted.

“I miss you,” you admit, lying back on your bed.

“I miss you,” he parrots, soft and sweet.

“Can we do something? Just you and me?”

He chuckles, low and under his breath. “Sure. Pancake night. Just you, me, and Martha’s perfume.”

…that never happened.

-

The less you see Eddie, the more you end up hanging out with Steve. He seems to want to introduce you to his own best friend, but your admission of not wanting to be a third wheel again gets him to drop it. You can’t help but notice the only times you speak to Eddie are when you call him. He hasn’t called you since asking for Chrissy to join pancake night.

That alone wouldn’t entirely convince you to not call him anymore. The jilted conversations always ending with promises of time with one another never coming to fruition. It’s the equivalent of being skinned alive, one strip at a time.

Steve has watched the circles under your eyes darken, the enthusiasm in class deplete, and the lust for life dissolve before his very eyes. To say he’s pissed at his friend is to understate it, he’s ready to tell you to give up on him and forget he exists.

Yet, Steve knows how unlike Eddie it all is. Dustin has complained he hasn’t been called back for a long time, Gareth reached out to you asking if you’d heard from Eddie lately as they haven’t rehearsed for a while. He garners more concern than anger at times.

Steve’s living room has become a new choice of hang out space, but the unnatural cleanliness of the house, the lack of cologne that both Eddie and Wayne use, the familiarity of eight years of friendship, it gives this unrelenting feeling of emptiness. It’s worth trying to fill it with edibles and weed.

It doesn’t seem to work, but you’ve become more open, more free willing with him as a direct result. He doesn’t favor horror movies like you and Eddie, but you find common ground in action and slapstick comedy, instead. Anything but romcoms, you implore. Anything even close to resembling romance is rejected.

Steve spills the latest he heard from Hawkins’ elite country club group, a bunch of ladies with nothing better to do with their afternoons than spread rumors about the population as a whole and judge them for it. Steve knows for a fact which members of the country club have side women, bringing them in hours after walking in with their own wives.

It’s so nice to be concerned with the lives of others and to not care about yours falling apart at the seams. Well, really it's being ripped apart by Chrissy Cunningham’s greedy little claws.

Ironically enough, you get paired up with Steve for a major assignment in Soc class, one required to analyze social constructs that have been deep dived in class. Another little gift of irony is you were given Social Stratification, which is the hierarchical arrangement of individuals or groups within a society based on various factors such as wealth, power, and prestige.

Being from two very different classes, you and Steve find yourself uniquely qualified to discuss the topic.

It provides opportunities to hang out together, distracted by the collective want to not work at all, but driven by an looming due date. Your mind wanders to Eddie non stop, wondering how he is, if he’s ok, if work is still giving him a hard time, did he finally get the belt he was needing, if Wayne was taking it easier.

Your fingers itch for the phone to call and ask, always haunted by the memory of each phone call, the polite conversation and empty promises. You crave to remember what it was like before.

Steve seems to act as your voice of reason, disencouraging you every time you mention wanting to call him. He sympathizes, of course, but he recalls the last time you called him and the aftermath following it.

When the assignment is finally in the last stages, making final edits to clear up any loss in conciseness, the final second guesses if the point has been made clear, you sit on the floor of Steve’s room cross legged, going cross eyed as you reread it, again.

“I can’t wait for this thing to be handed in,” you groan, throwing your pen at him.

“I think we earned a celebration,” he sighs, throwing the pen back to you. “On Friday, after we finally hand over this paper to this asshole, I am throwing a big ass party in your honor.”

“A party will not make me feel better,” you reprimand, glancing at him under your brows.

“No, but a good excuse to drink the pain away, might,” he grins, leaning forward on his stomach and kicking his legs animatedly. He looks so innocent, as if he doesn’t have his own agenda. You’ve come to know him well enough that he really doesn’t. “C’mon. Let loose with me just for one night!”

You reluctantly agree to it after he pulls out his dumb puppy eyes.

News of Steve’s party spreads fast across campus, and you find yourself curiously excited for it when you usually dread dancing with complete strangers. The strangers at this point make it better, not needing to concern yourself with anything other than how the alcohol burns.

Your dad drives you to the party, the rain heavy on the pavement making it hard to bike in such weather. He’s noticed the way you’ve shut down a little bit as of lately, more than happy to bring you to a party if it means putting some life back into the eyes of his one and only daughter.

When you enter the door with slightly damp hair just from the walk from the truck, the party is already in full swing, music overtly loud, bodies bumping and dancing, empty cups already scattered on dusty surfaces.

As soon as you see Steve, he waves you over, talking to Robin, who he’s introduced you to. She became your friend the same way he became your did; ambush. Turns out, Robin is really cool. She hands you a beer, winking as you tilt your eyebrow out of skepticism.

“Beer, really?” You ask over the music, turning the bottle around in your hand.

“You’re drinking to forget, right?” She asks, an air of wisdom in her scratchy voice. “Then what does it matter what it tastes like?”

Well, you guess she’s right. You grab another from the fridge while you’re at it before they lead you to a couch. It’s surrounded by a crowd of people you mostly have never met before, more than happy to laugh with them at the particularly stupid topics of conversation.

You’re already pretty buzzed less than an hour spent at the party, having asked Steve to get you a third bottle. “Might wanna slow down, sweets.”

“I’m drinking to forget, remember?” You ask him, winking cheekily.

Time starts to meld together as the bottle gets emptier and emptier. Robin grabs you by the hand to dance with her and Steve in a circle, top 40 pop acting as a soundtrack while you forget any goddamn trouble that might have plagued you.

You’re chatting about some mindless gossip when something tells you to turn your head towards the door. The door opens to Eddie and Chrissy, holding hands as they look around the party that got even rowdier since your arrival.

Eddie’s eyes meet yours, frozen in place as the emptiness his absence has left consumes you.

“Oh shit,” Robin mutters right next to you, but you don’t answer it as you stumble your way into the kitchen.

The internal debate on whether you need to drink water or more alcohol is roaring, so you drown it with more alcohol. Maybe you can shut it up. It’s too fucking loud. The ajar door opens and closes, a presence in the kitchen you don’t bother acknowledging. You don’t smell Eddie’s cologne, the momentary disappointment flooding your senses that he saw you and didn’t even bother talking to you.

Another sip. Another gulp. Make it go away.

“I was wondering when I would run into you,” it’s not Eddie, or Steve. Confusion takes over you as you wonder which male voice in your life you’re forgetting, turning to face the culprit.

Daniel.

“Here I am, I guess,” you mutter, taking another swig. “What exactly do you want?”

“Retribution.”

“Huh?”

He laughs, cruel and blunt. “I’m here for what I’m owed, sweetheart. I don’t get told no. Girls don’t say no to me. So, I think I’m owed some payback for the humiliation you put me through.”

What the fuck?

The laughter that leaves your throat is loud and abrupt, clearly not what he’s expecting. “Oh my fucking god, you’re just delusional. Girls don’t owe you shit for buying them dinner! You ask us out for a date, that’s on you, bud!”

“I don’t fucking think so,” he growls, slinking in closer. You can smell his breath, he’s clearly been drinking. “I will get what I want, I always do.”

Panic floods your brain, suddenly realizing he’s being dead serious. “Wait–” you protest as he leans in, the wall and your back colliding harshly. “Wait, no–”

“All you had to do was blow me, baby,” he chides, as if he’s reprimanding a small child. His hand harshly wraps around your waist, preventing you from weaving from between him and the wall. “Now look what you made me do.”

You try to push him off, panic continuing to push up your throat as he proves himself much stronger than you. Oh god, am I about to get raped in Steve’s kitchen?

His hand feels slimy as it pushes past your shirt, sending a jolt of shivers down your body. You’re shaking from fear, one cheek against the wall as you continue to resist him. “Stop– Daniel, please stop–” Your voice is frantic, eyes wide in terror as you try to push his hands away.

The harsh laughter directed at your pleas are cut off, an incredibly familiar voice slicing the air with malice. “She said stop.”

The heat you were surrounded by is thrown off, leaving the cold air behind Daniel to overwhelm you as he’s thrown onto the floor.

Blows of fists on flesh fill the room, watching in horror as Eddie has him pinned, delivering blow after blow to his face. You only see a portion of Eddie, his dark jeans and leather jacket as he hunches over his victim and blindingly delivers one punch after the other. Daniel has stopped fighting back, just a limp set of limbs as it jumps from each hit.

When Eddie has shown no signs of letting up you’re forced to jump into action, stumbling as you run into his line of eyesight. “Eddie, stop! You’re going to kill him!” You plead.

The sounds of brutal fists on soft flesh die immediately, Eddie huffing as he rises to his feet. “You okay?”

You blink as his hands frame your cheeks, petting them softly with his hands. A tear falls, splashing his hand. His concern is comforting, but the direct juxtaposition of his concern from the silence he’s fed you the last few weeks washes over you, confusing every emotion that has been hurting.

Despite the sweet shine in his eyes as they watch you, you back from his hold in a jerk reaction. “Didn’t know you still cared about me.”

He wears the hurt from this statement on his sleeve. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You wander back over to the fridge, grabbing a beer from the second six pack you’re working through. You pop it open from the mounted bottle opener, taking a handful of sips. “You’re kidding me, right? You haven’t called me in weeks. Weeks.”

He stands there, blankly watching.

“I might be more forgiving if it weren’t for Dustin and Gareth and hell, Steve also saying the same thing. None of them have heard from you. You went from calling at least once a week to radio silence! I wanted to get along with Chrissy. I really did. I started all the conversations, offering snacks, asking questions about her, letting her set her boundaries, but she had something to say about everything we did together!”

Eddie stutters, blinking as he watches you talk. He doesn’t try to talk, doesn’t try to defend himself. You don’t give him the chance.

“She clearly doesn’t respect you, otherwise you would still be my best friend and I would remember the last time we had a normal fucking conversation. I get wanting boundaries, but at this point, I don’t think she even wants you to have friends! Is that what you want? A girl who makes you make yourself smaller for her sake and isolate completely? Really? Because that’s what you have. No horror movies? No more junk food? No heavy metal music? She’s making you shrink yourself so she deems you desirable! Fucking– I can’t watch it anymore.”

“Wait, what do you mean–” he’s interrupted by the door closing, a yelp filling the room as Chrissy runs to him.

“What happened to your fists?” You glance down to them, seeing bruises lining his knuckles.

“Nothing, it’s fine. I’m fine,” he assures her, putting his hands on her shoulders.

“Alright. Well. I meant exactly what I said. I can’t do this one sided friendship thing with you anymore,” you take another swig, wondering how the bottle was already so light. “I can’t. Call me when you find my best friend, because I haven’t seen him in three months.”

You leave the room, ignoring the calls from his mouth that suffocate you. As you stumble into the living room, you catch Steve’s eye right away, chin trembling. The hot tears that trail down your face have already drenched your cheeks by the time you realize it’s even happening, choking on the emotion that drowns you.

Steve guides you into the guest bathroom, closing the door as he watches you attempt to stop the sobs long enough to tell him what happened.

“I think–” you hiccup, sniffling loudly, “I think I just lost my best friend–” tears rattle through you once again, just saying it out loud feels like lightning in its startling ability to shatter you once more.

By the time the sobs diminish again, you’re sat on the floor by the tub, head sitting in his lap as he pets your hair. You sit up suddenly, mid hiccup as you give Steve an odd look.

He almost asks if you’re okay when you spill over his lap, whimpering between gasps as you know what you’re doing, the toilet only a foot away, but it continues to explode from your stomach.

“I’m so sorry,” you explain, tears falling again, as he sits in shock.

He grins sadly, undoing his belt. “It’s fine, sweetheart.”

He finds someone, Robin, to grab him a second pair of pants, ditching the ruined pair in the bathtub.

The dry heaving seems to stop the tears, now staring blankly with a wet face and lashes that stick together. Steve brings you upstairs, wrapping his arm around your waist as he brings you to his bedroom.

As your head hits his pillow your eyes fall closed, mumbling something about fucking up, about three months ago.

Steve locks his door from any stragglers, walking down each step to find a particular metal head to give him a piece of his mind.

From how your sobs shook your body, he might give him the whole thing.

-

The light cascading through the blinds hurts, like a dagger through your brain as you take in your surroundings. You don’t know how you got into Steve’s room under his blanket.

As soon as you sit up, the pain stabs you, pushing you back down. Ow. You don’t even attempt to get up again until the urge to pee hits you, when it’s too much to ignore. You rub your eye, tip toeing to try to get back under the dark blue comforter decorating Steve’s bed.

On the corner of the bed Steve sits, one foot resting on the other knee as he holds a jade green drink. “How badly does your head hurt?”

You wince at the volume of his voice, placing your hands over your eyes. “Not great.”

He winces sympathetically, offering the smoothie. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Blurry images flash through your mind, the kitchen, Daniel, half of the second case gone. You attempt to remember past that point but it comes up blank. “I remember running into Daniel.”

As you sip on the surprisingly delicious hangover smoothie, Steve watches you, wearing a clear expression of concern.

“Anything after that?”

You can tell he’s egging you on, digging for something with an unprecedented seriousness in his tone. But there’s no memory after that. You gingerly shake your head, which sends more needles of pain through your skull.

“Why?” You ask weakly. Steve pauses, ruffling a hand through his hair as he releases a long sigh.

“You really don’t, huh?” Steve asks, one last attempt. “Maybe it’s good you drank as much as you did, then.”

“Steve, you’re scaring me.” Images of worst case scenarios course through your mind. What did you do?

Steve pats the spot on the bed next to you, double checking you don’t feel the urge to throw up. You don’t.

“Daniel tried to force himself on you.” He’s gentle, compassionate in his admission as he watches your reaction.

Huh. “How far did he–” you stutter, breath hitching as you bite back the sobs that suddenly threaten to rake through your body.

“He was interrupted before he even got that far,” he comforts you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as he caresses it. “Eddie sort of bashed his face in.”

Now that you think about it, the memory of Eddie hunched over Daniel as he delivered blow after blow to his nose, his cheekbone, his eyebrow. You didn’t see the final result of Eddie’s defense, but the bruised knuckles you vaguely recall spell out how brutal the retaliation was.

Eddie.

“What–” you pause, stuttering through your breaths, “what happened after that?”

“You yelled at Eddie. Berated him. I think you even told him you didn’t want to be his friend anymore. At least, that’s what I gathered from what you told me,” he admits.

Your blood grows cold. From the weeks of silence, the jilted conversations, the slow resentment that bloomed through your stomach for him. The ache already hurt just from the absence of your best friend, but it was good for you. Fuck, this hurt.

“Is that all?”

He laughs, pulling your head into his neck. “Just that you can’t hold back your liquor.”

That’s why your breath tastes like vomit.

From the extra strength tylenol he gives you, the rest of the morning is spent helping Steve tidy up the trash around his house. Only after spending twenty minutes in the kitchen on his hands and knees scrubbing up the red stains does he allow you to help him. You only catch a glimpse of the paper towel soaked in dried blood and bleach when throwing out red solo cups, a small hint of the mess Eddie made of Daniel.

The thought of his name is a self betrayal, and you work faster once it crosses your mind.

Once the place is clean, you allow Steve to drive you home at his insistence, repeatedly asking when he pulls up to your house that you’re sure you’re okay.

Your dad is at work, not there to ask any questions you wanted to avoid from the previous night, namely why your eyes are swollen from tears. The blinds in your room fall with a trill resembling a xylophone, blocking the sun from your intense migraine.

For the first time in weeks, you’re stirred awake from sleep from the ringing of the phone on the floor that has been pushed under the bed. You let it ring.

Just as sleep pulls you back in, you’re abruptly startled as the phone alerts you again. You roll over, ignoring it as you wrap your head in your hands, curling into the pillow. No one has to get a hold of you that badly.

This person does, it seems, as they call you again. You groan, crawling over the edge as you grab the phone from your receiver. “Hello?”

You refuse the want to chew them out, to take your emotions and friendship breakup out on the person who has interrupted your sleep.

“It’s me.”

You lurch forward in your bed, still tethered to the receiver by the tightly coiled wire as it forces the receiver to scuff against the hardwood floor. Eddie.

-

Eddie’s sat on his couch, limply resting his head on the couch arm as the shrill voice of the main character complains over a problem that could be solved if she had just told someone. His hand rests on his eyes, shielding himself from the light to prevent the headache he can feel coming on. He’s given up on suggesting other movies by now, but she somehow seems to only play the movies that get on every last nerve.

He would probably be more willing to watch the romcoms in question if they weren’t the bottom of the pack. Last time Eddie even suggested a romcom he actually doesn’t completely hate he had to hear about it for an agonizing twenty minutes. Fine. She could watch her movie, he can practice on his guitar, right?

You would think.

So he dissociates and focuses on the gentle petting of his calf as he rests his leg on her lap. His mind floats to his best friend, how much he misses the smell of your shampoo, or when you make fun of the cheesier horror movies he loves to watch. If Chrissy wouldn’t make a near temper tantrum every time your name is mentioned in conversation, he would’ve called you weeks ago. He missed your voice.

Chrissy continues to insist that you like him, that you’re trying to steal him from her. It turned into many fights where Eddie felt like he was losing his mind, insisting he just wanted to see his best friend. There is a stubborn, immovable force still holding hope that something will just click one day and realize just how wrong she is. There’s a little nagging part of him, eating at his brain, warning that it probably won’t ever come true.

The possibility is almost too much for him to mentally handle, because when it blows up in his face and you decide not to forgive his radio silence, he doesn’t think he will be able to handle the absence in his life. So he procrastinates the detonation.

“I’m surprised you’re not going to Steve’s party,” Chrissy chirps, interrupting Eddie’s disarray.

Eddie blinks, trying to recall any mention of a party that might’ve slipped his mind. That might’ve been the reason for his ignorance if he could remember the last time he even spoke to Steve. He’s sure Chrissy knows that.

“I didn’t even know he was having one.”

She grabs at the extra material of his jeans, pulling his attention. “Did you want to go?”

He mentally rattles through the mechanics of going to Steve’s stupidly large house, knowing damn well his distance has managed to drive you straight into the arms of someone new, even if it’s only platonic. You’ll be there, the chance much more likely than not.

He wants to see your face, even if it’s in passing. He wonders if Chrissy sees you there if she’ll decide to leave early or just avoid you altogether. But it’s just the chance that drives him to agree.

By the time he gets there, vehicles have already littered the streets surrounding his house, some even audaciously blocking his neighbor’s driveways. Chrissy’s hand is in his as he walks in, anxiously looking around the party for you.

He peers into the living room, to the couch containing members of some of Steve’s closer acquaintances and it wasn’t long until he saw you, sitting right next to Robin holding the bottleneck of a beer bottle.

Your eyes are already on his, wide and still as you stare at him. You’re even prettier than he remembered, any polaroid he’s ever had of you does absolutely no justice to your radiant smile or vibrant eyes.

Fine, you’re staring at him like you would rather be anywhere else for the moment, panic flooding your features, but it’s a breath of fresh air for him compared to his last few suffocating weeks. As you stumble to your feet, Eddie tricks himself into believing that you’ve gotten up to talk to him until you pass the front entrance straight into the kitchen.

He supposes he deserves that, fading as Chrissy tugs him to the dance floor. His hands find her hips, allowing himself to get lost in the relentlessly catchy pop tune. He can’t help but allow his eyes to float back over to the couch every now and then, something in him carnally needing making sure that you’re safe.

Alarm bells go off, goosebumps trailing over his skin as something in him screams that you’re in danger. You could very much just be avoiding him, which he wouldn’t blame you for, not for one moment, but he wouldn’t forgive himself if he found out his worry had any footing.

“Babe, I’m gonna grab a drink,” he mutters, blankly kissing her sweet scented blonde hair before his long legs take him to the kitchen.

His stomach drops as your voice fills the kitchen, asking the asshole with wandering hands to stop as he forces himself on you.

The next thing he knows, Daniel is under him, his back slammed on the floor with a face scrunched up in pain as Eddie’s fists are flying. His fists, his jeans, the floor, the whining little shit’s face, it all gets painted with blood.

Eddie doesn’t realize when the pair of arms stop trying to push him off, or when the green eyes no longer stare at him in horror, shut from the trauma of one blunt hit after the other. He just continually bashes his face in for even daring to attempt to force himself on the woman he loves.

Fuck this guy. Fuck him.

Eddie’s blind with rage, but he’s also blind with his own regret.

Your voice cuts through the anger, a warning that seeps in his brain like a sponge. If he keeps hitting him like this he will end up taking his life.

He stands up, facing your trembling form as you seem to be in shock. You melt in his hold, tears spilling over his hands as he caresses you, doing his very best to take care of you. He knows the answer when he asks, but he has to hear it from you.

Finally, the words seem to sober you from wanting his comfort to the hurt that you’ve felt from his silence. You lurch yourself from him, staggering blindly to the fridge as you grab another beer. The scent was harsh on your breath, the sight of you glugging back as much as you can sends jolts through his system.

Then you tell him everything. And he deserves it. He wants so badly to tell you how badly he wanted to call you, but the excuses sound lame even in his own mind.

When you tell him you’re done is when he finally snaps out of his own trance. He knows what you mean, but surely, you don’t really mean it? Before he can ask, Chrissy comes into the picture, doting over his bruised knuckles, ignoring you completely as she asks what happened. He’s fine. He’s not, but he’ll say anything to get back to what you were just saying.

Choked back sobs escape as you tell him with absolute finality that you are done, tripping over your own feet when you leave through the kitchen door.

No, this has gone too far. Eddie hasn’t had a single drop of alcohol but feels as if he’s wasted from stumbling after you, blocked by his girlfriend.

That conversation goes as well as can be expected.

In the hours following, he doesn’t seem to find you anywhere. But without Chrissy trailing after him, he finds himself free to converse with friends he’d missed, meeting their snide remarks of coming back to the land of the living with grace. Eddie stays for hours, half heartedly partaking in any conversation he finds himself witness to just in case you make another appearance.

Steve walks down the stairs after what feels like forever, wearing a grim look on his face. Eddie approaches him. “Hey have you seen–”

“She’s upstairs,” Steve answers, sighing. “Passed out. She’ll wake up tomorrow morning.”

“Is she okay?”

“Didn’t choke on her own vomit, at least,” Steve quips, his voice harsh. “Physically, she’s okay.”

Steve moves to walk around Eddie, seemingly done with the conversation.

“Physically?”

Steve sighs, angry, frustrated. “She just sobbed on the bathroom floor for an hour and a half, Ed. I literally watched her heart break! Safe to say, I don’t think she’s doing so well emotionally.”

“Fuck,” Eddie mutters, feeling hopeless, like he should’ve been there to take care of you instead of being the cause of your suffering. “Steve, I–”

“Listen, Eddie. I just heard a bunch of shit from her that I’m not even sure she knows that she said. Other than her I guess telling you to fuck off, what else happened?”

Eddie gulps, not exactly wrapping his own mind around it, yet. “I found Daniel Moore trying to force himself on her.”

“Jesus,” Steve mutters, passing Eddie straight into the kitchen.

“Steve–” Eddie tries to stop him, or warn him at least, wondering how no one else has seen him, yet. There is almost no reason for most to make their way into the kitchen as the drinks station is in the living room, but usually a straggler or two, especially couples would make their own way in. He’s definitely not up and partying from the blood that seeped through the shirt he was wearing…

Should Eddie have called the ambulance?

“What the fuck–” Steve barks, taking in the crumpled form before him. “Jesus, Eddie, what happened?”

“You listen to your best friend beg someone to stop assaulting them and not beat the shit out of him?” Eddie retaliates, watching as Steve double checks to make sure he’s still breathing.

“Well, now I gotta get him out of here before someone has you fucking arrested,” Steve mutters, wracking his brain through old morally questionable friends of his that would help with no questions asked. Fuck. He has a few favors to call in. “Where’s Chrissy gone?”

“How the fuck should I know?” Eddie spits.

“Considering she has control over who you’re allowed to spend time with, probably somewhere nearby with binoculars,” Steve mutters, a fragment of seriousness in the joke.

“Well, not anymore,” Eddie shrugs, feeling surprisingly pragmatic about it.

“Oh.” Took you long enough, Steve thinks. “I’m gonna get him out of here, but I suggest you do the same.”

“Can I stay? I wanna be here when she wakes up.” His eyes pleading to Steve.

Steve’s brows raise. “Respectfully Eddie, I don’t think she really wants to see you.”

“I haven’t been able to tell her anything for weeks, I’m staying!” he insists, crossing his arms like a petulant child.

Steve shakes his head, leaning on the counter. God, he wished he hadn’t invited a few dozen people to come to his house for the night. “God, you’re an idiot.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re an idiot. You’re both idiots, but, man I think you’re the bigger one.” Steve walks around the kitchen island, getting unreasonably close to him. “I don’t know if you’re blind, or just selectively ignorant. She loves you, dude! She was willing to support you getting a girlfriend, but then you just shut her out. It’s gonna take more than an apology to be back in her good graces. When she wakes up with a killer hangover, I think the last person she’ll want to see is you. God, if one of you just made the jump years ago this never would’ve happened!”

Eddie’s heart drops at Steve’s angry words, refusing to believe any of his feelings for his best friend are reciprocated. “Sure, because three months of friendship tell you everything you need to know about a person.”

Steve chuckles, walking over the snoring asshole as he steps out to the living room. “I would have to be blind not to see it. She talked about you one time about this stupid fucking movie she watched with you and I could tell. Rather than telling your girlfriend that you have a best friend and she has to get over it, you shut her out. For weeks. And left someone else to pick up the pieces.”

“Steve, I know. I know I was being an ass–”

“Then why didn’t you stop? Why didn’t you give her a call? You had to know she wasn’t going to forgive you so easily–”

“Of course I fucking knew that, Steve! Why do you think I put off letting it explode in my face?”

“Because you’re an idiot! She loved you. She loves you! If you can’t see that then I really don’t know what to tell you. Listen, if you call her tomorrow, I’m not all that sure what would happen. It’s gonna be a while before she’s ready to forgive, bud. For now. Maybe you should go.”

-

“Oh,” you sigh, hugging your knees into your chest, feeling small. A war rages in your mind. You were hurt enough by him to break your friendship off with him, but you don’t even remember it. The other side of you just wants to be close to him again, willing to sink into the apologies that he owes you and happily accept them.

But you shouldn’t. And you know you shouldn’t.

“Do you wanna come over for a movie?”

You want to come over and watch a movie so badly, it wraps around you and constricts your airflow. “Will she be there?”

“No. Just me and you. I promise,” Eddie swears, voice low enough that it resembles a whisper. “She won’t be, uh, crashing our movie nights anymore.”

You diminish the pulse of hope that threatens to bloom. “What do you mean?”

Eddie sighs. “I was hoping to tell you in person, but we broke up last night…come over, I’ll tell you more. I just need my best friend…and a horror movie…and junk food, god, I miss junk food.”

You miss him so much it hurts. “I’ll be there in an hour.”

The bike ride sends pulses through your head, worsening the ache of the hangover. If the pain isn’t gone by tomorrow, you might just ask someone to shoot an arrow through your head to put you out of your misery.

It’s been more than long enough since the last time you were on his front door step, nervous as you hesitate to knock. Eddie’s footsteps are rapid and loud as soon as your knuckles hit the door, the opening to him, wide eyes, graphic t-shirt and pair of sweatpants. He appears unlike himself, almost tired. You wonder if you noticed it last night.

Before either one of you says a word, he tugs you in, wrapping his arms around you in an embrace in his scent. Overwhelming emotion takes over, his shirt absorbing the tears that fall. He feels like home, every part of him. His scent, the muscles flexing under your grasp, his steady breaths.

“I missed you,” he mutters, his voice low, choked, even.

Then why didn’t you call me? “Me too–” you whimper, squeezing onto him even tighter. You sniffle, curling your head into his neck.

The hug lasts forever, or at least long enough for your arms to become numb.

Your butt lands on the couch, the spot that was once permanently marked by you now weirdly lumpy from the lack of use. Did Chrissy know she was allowed to sit in her own seat on the odd occasion? On the coffee table, Eddie has already prepared the popcorn and your favorite snacks, only your favorite snacks. Three movies are laid out, all awaiting their turn in the VCR.

“What’s this?” You ask, rubbing your nose from the snot.

“Uh, three movies. Pick one.”

You read the titles, Back to the Future, Friday the 13th, and Labyrinth. “What happened to wanting to watch horror movies?”

“I have a lot of sucking up to do before I get to be picky with our movie night,” Eddie answers, his voice gentle and careful. “Pick one.”

If he says so, then you’ll have to pick your favorite, rather than his favorite. “Alright, then, Labyrinth it is. David Bowie in leather pants, here I come!”

As the movie plays, a teenage girl desperate to find her brother, you sink into the comfort of the ratty old couch. Through Eddie, you found out that the rattiest couches are actually the most comfy. The more tears and rips, the better. Eddie stands up, running to the kitchen to grab fresh cans of soda from the fridge.

He sits back down, handing you a Diet Coke while popping open his own. Two things you notice when he sits. One, he’s remarkably close, his ass nearly planted in between the cushions. Two–

“Since when did you start drinking diet coke?” You ask him, wincing at the aftertaste.

“Since Chrissy was such a stickler for sugar,” he answers casually, grabbing a bite of the popcorn.

His simple tone, emotionless and understated, squeezes your heart. “What happened with her, anyway?”

Chrissy blocked him, staring at him with wide eyes as she held his shoulders. “What–what is going on?”

“I need a minute,” he stuttered, attempting to walk around her.

“Did you do that?” Chrissy asked, pointing to the lifeless piece of shit on the floor.

“Chris, it’s really not a good time, right now. I will tell you later, I promise. I’ll be right back.” Eddie promised.

She blocked him again, hands pushing on his broad shoulders. “You’re not seriously thinking of going after her, are you?”

“Chrissy, she’s my best friend! That creep just tried– I have to go check up on her, make sure she’s okay!”

“You mean the girl who is pathetically in love with you?” Chrissy asked, belligerent and full of sass. “Sure, go and give her more false hope! She was practically all over you at the diner, mooning over you, desperate to take you out on a date, I mean, don’t give her fucking hope!”

Eddie sighed, rubbing his face angrily. “I don’t know how many times I need to fucking tell you, Chris. She is just my friend. She was being nice, trying to include you. I’m so fucking tired of this conversation!”

“So am I!” Chrissy crossed her arms, popping her hip out. It was times like these Eddie was absolutely sure of why Chrissy and Jason dated for so long. “You know what? Fine. Me or her.”

“What?” Eddie was unsure if she was being serious.

“Pick! Me or her? Because when you pick me maybe then she’ll get the fucking hint!”

It was the easiest decision he’s ever made in his life. “Her.”

Eddie finishes explaining it, mostly nixxing the parts where she berated you or talked shit. You just needed to know the part where she practically had a temper tantrum.

“Wow,” you mutter, remembering how you called Chrissy sweet when they first started dating. “And…you, you picked me?”

“Of course I did.” Eddie pops a kernel into his mouth, leaning back into the couch. His body heat is warm, his scent intoxicating. “You’re my best friend.”

“You haven’t called in weeks, Eddie.” It comes out quietly, the hurt overflowing in your body and pouring out your mouth. “I thought you had a new best girl.”

Eddie sighs, grabbing your hand. “If I could take back the last three months, I would. I-I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

“I missed you so fucking badly,” you admit, focusing on how your hand feels intertwined with his.

“I missed you. I know– I fucked up, but believe me when I say, I missed you so fucking much.”

On one hand, it’s hard to believe him. It seemed like it was so easy for him to cut you off. On the other, the glint in his eyes, his thumb caressing the back of your hand, gentle and unequivocally vulnerable.

Eddie leans forward, connecting his forehead to yours. “I will make it up to you, I promise.”

“You have a lot of making up to do, mister,” you inform him, pulling away from him to lightly nudge his hair.

“And a million strawberry mountains covered in strawberry sauce,” he answers, kissing your forehead softly.

“You really had me worried,” you admit, taking a good look at his face. “I believe you when you say that you missed me, but Eds, you hurt me. I want to trust you, but–”

His movement is swift as he grabs your face with his hands, pulling you in close. “I know, baby, I know.” The pet name takes your breath away, music to your unsuspecting ears. The name wraps itself around your like a warm hug, melting all those months of worry and panic away. “I’m so fucking sorry, if I could just–”

Maybe it wasn’t the right timing, months of silence, unanswered questions, hurt, but all that just conveniently disappears the moment his lips touch yours. You startle, jerking backwards as you look at him curiously, looking for something that’ll tell you he’s not kissing you out of pity, or obligation.

You’re met with the exact way that he always looks at you, but this time, it’s radiant. How did you miss it this whole time? You smile, wrapping your hand behind his neck as you tug him in, entangling his lips with yours and chasing that emotion that ran through you the first time.

Eddie meets your kiss with enthusiasm, grinning madly as he pulls you in closer, your body flush against his as he pulls you down with him.

It’s maddeningly enchanting, the way you can taste his minty breath and his hums against your lips, buzzing and tickling. His tongue sweeps along your bottom lip, pulling a gasp as you happily meet his with yours. Your skin feels electric as his hand sneaks under your shirt, as if he’s just getting the feel of you.

You sigh, curling your arm around his neck to pull him impossibly closer. His kisses trail along your jawline, down your neck, pressing sweet kisses down your jugular. “You taste like strawberries,” he mutters, audibly smiling. “I should’ve known, all those damn strawberries you eat.”

“Before we go any further,” you gasp, clutching at his t-shirt, “and believe me, I want to, you owe me a proper date.”

“Taking you out for a date, baby?” He places more rapid kisses on your neck, letting himself absorb your laughter. “God, I’m lucky.”

-

You’ve learned one thing for absolute certainty, Eddie Munson knows how to grovel. Between the many kisses you’ve shared that night you tell Eddie with surety that just because he knows how to kiss doesn’t mean he’s suddenly forgiven. Eddie relishes in that, grinning just because you’re kissing him.

The previous night he was losing his mind at his ex-girlfriend’s terrible movie choices, and you, his best friend, the person who has always known him best, you’re finally here kissing him. You could ask him to write a 1000-page apology letter entirely in rhymes or haikus and he would do it heartbeat, but all he’s required to do is prove it?

He’s more than willing.

When the date is proposed, he swears he would love to take you anywhere. He provides a list, with all of the restaurants you know he can’t afford. When you ask him and inquire about such, he shrugs casually. There’s a silent question there, wondering if Chrissy had even considered his wallet size before their date nights.

Instead, you answer with, “Our first date should be the diner, no?”

You’ve never been so nervous before, looking through your small arsenal of date night dresses. He’s seen all of them, whether from a school dance or the aftermath of a date gone sour. One dress catches your attention, at the very back of your closet covered in plastic, just waiting for the right time.

White, with blue flowers hand embroidered on the bodice, a sweetheart neckline and bubble gum pink ribbons tied together as the straps. Periwinkle blue that bleeds into mint green leaves along the hemline, fanned out into a hoopskirt. You’ve stared at this dress when it sat in your mom’s closet, asking when it might be your turn to finally wear it.

The dress fits you like a glove, looking remarkably close to the photo on the easel downstairs, a first date 25 years ago that ended up being one of your favorite bedtime stories.

As you finally make your way down the stairs, hair half up in curls in a ribbon matching the ones on the dress, your dad looks at you with pride and glossy eyes. Whispered words of the resemblance as he hugs you, eyes too tired for a man in his forties from loss and stress, a whiff of gratitude hits you.

It’s a warm spring evening, no need for a coat as the van pulls up with the usual melodies of heavy metal and drumming. You make your way down the sidewalk to his passenger side, butterflies erupting as you open the door.

The volume is turned down to a background noise, the heavy metal feeling oddly out of place at such a low volume. “Hi, sunshine.”

You grab his hand, petting at his calloused skin. “Hi.”

You feel his eyes on you, taking in the dress that is on its first night out in decades. “I don’t know how you show up looking this good and expect me to act normal.”

You grin, pressing a kiss to his shoulder and sniffing at the leather. He can’t say shit like that and expect you to go on like normal. “C’mon. I haven’t had a strawberry milkshake in ages.”

You open the window just a crack, appreciating the scent of fresh grass in the spring. New beginnings, fresh starts, rebirth. It seems oddly poetic.

He pulls up to the diner, bright neon lights against an evening sunset. It looks as if it’s painted, yellow into orange into blue. A lonely diner isolated sitting against a watercolor sky, but one of your favorite places in the world.

The bell ringing feels like an old song you haven’t heard in years, bringing some bittersweet nostalgia.

Martha perks up, the diner even deader than normal with only a lone man sitting on a bar chair holding a milkshake like a beer. The comparison sends a gag reflex through your body, never wanting to even smell another beer in your lifetime. As you sit next to Eddie, in such close proximity that the other side of the booth is useless, Martha appears with a cheeky smile on her face.

“If you two aren’t on a date, I’ll eat my notebook,” she sighs, hands on her hips as if she’s chastising two kids.

You and Eddie glance to one another, debating on fucking with her. It’s all the approval she needs.

“Finally! If you came in my diner again with those puppy dog eyes of yours I would’ve about had it with you two. Now, are you getting your regulars again?”

Eddie’s arm curls around your shoulders, his thumb petting the bare skin of your shoulder. “I’m disappointed you haven’t already brought the milkshake, Martha.”

“Smartasses. The both of you!” She walks off, a brand new pep in her step.

His thumb turns under your chin, pulling your face towards his. “C’mere. I need to make up for the times I just wanted to kiss those pretty lips in this booth of ours.”

“Why didn’t you?” You ask him, breathless as you stare at his eyes.

“I didn’t think the prettiest girl I know would want to kiss a goofball like me,” he chuckles, self deprecating and vulnerable.

You shake your head sadly, sighing happily. “You are so wrong.”

His chuckles are interrupted by your kiss, clutching onto the cotton t-shirt clinging onto his chest. It’s like you to forget how to breathe, taking the moment to take a deep breath before kissing him deeper, harder.

Your tongues meet, wrapping together with his and leaning forward to be as close to him as possible. His hand lands on your thigh, petting it roughly as he teases you. You hated yourself, hated how you told him you wanted to wait, because it’s becoming too much. The need for him sits deep in your stomach and begs you for any resolve from his teasing hands.

His kisses keep you only so satiated, whimpering by the time your make out sessions are done and ready to beg him to touch you already.

The glass of pinky sweetness hits the table, interrupting his electric lips on yours. “If you two do it, at least have the decency to take it to the bathroom like every other patron.”

You yelp, avoiding Martha’s eyes as Eddie tugs you in against his chest, kissing your temple. “Yes ma’am,” Eddie obeys, saluting with two fingers. Two, very distracting fingers.

You take a sip, humming. After weeks, you will proudly proclaim that this is still the best milkshake in town.

Eddie kisses your cheek, pulling you even closer. “If you lick that whipped cream off your finger, so help me god.”

It’s a habit of yours, one you’ve done at least once a visit just to get a taste of it before it sinks into the milkshake. The numerous times you’ve done it sinks in, unknowingly teasing him. “Something wrong with tasting whipped cream, Eds?”

“When you do it with that tongue of yours, yes,” he mutters, nipping on your jawline.

“Why don’t you have a taste,” you hum, taking a scoop with your pinky, licking it up.

Eddie pulls you in, humming as his tongue reaches out for yours to grab a taste of the cream melting fast in your mouth. He pulls back all too soon, eyes fluttering shut as he tuts his tongue. “Mmm. Yum. Thanks, baby.”

The milkshake is nearly gone by the time Martha rolls around again, pancakes and waffles in hand, interrupting soft conversation and sweet nothings.

He finally tries a taste of your pancakes, eating from the fork you offer him. His face winces, screwing up as he chews on it. “That strawberry sauce is sweet, ain’t it?”

“A little sour, I guess, but it’s my favorite. The fresh strawberries are a nice little addition.” You tell him, cutting up the pancakes.

“I’ll stick to my sprinkles,” Eddie mutters, dipping a piece of the big fluffy waffle in the whip. “They are the best.”

“I have a question,” you mutter, relishing in the taste of the sweet strawberry sauce. “How-how long have you liked me? Was it more recent, or have you liked me for years?”

Eddie smirks, placing a stand of hair over your shoulder. “Years.” He chokes back the correction of the word like, cause it’s so much more. “The first time I saw you, you were giving one of the football dicks hell for picking on one of the scrawny little freshmen. And I mean, berating him. You’re shy, baby, but not when it comes to others.” He pauses, chewing thoughtfully. “I knew from that moment.”

Oh. It was a handful of months before you found yourself sitting by the hellfire table, shaking your head at their antics. Plus, Gareth was just plain wrong in his opinion, you shook your head disapprovingly as you dug your nose in the book. Eddie caught on to it, demanding you join their group and inform him of how wrong he was. You did. You didn’t realize how charming Eddie was, how welcoming and genuinely kind.

It took your breath away, especially how gorgeous he was. The crush was kindled from then on, only being nurtured as you continued to debate him and his friends on their nerd culture.

Eddie followed up with the same question, asking how long ago for you, too. You tell him that very story, of how he enamored you just from being around him.

“You know, by then I was already head over heels for you,” he admits casually, sipping the last of the milkshake. “Something about sticking it to the man just does that to a guy.”

“Those dimples of yours are a weapon.” You admit in kind, and he laughs. You drop your jaw incredulously. “They’re a weapon! You think your hands are the only things those girls call magic?”

Eddie leans in, hot breath on your ear sending ripples down your neck. “And have you thought about these magic hands of mine, sweetheart?”

You gulp, licking your lips as your heart races in your chest. “Maybe...” You say softly.

He hums, tentatively kissing your skin. He really shouldn’t be doing this in a public space, you think, attempting not to wiggle at the uncomfortable feeling of arousal pooling in your panties. “I can’t wait to show you just how magic they are.”

You hold back a whimper, choking on it as your eyes flutter shut at his tentative kisses.

“Let’s get out of here, shall we?” You nod, watching as he places the right amount of bills with a decent tip for Martha.

On your way out the door, Martha shouts her goodbyes, happily yelling out her congratulations as the glass door slams behind you. Eddie’s lips find a home on the back of your hand, holding it as he kisses loudly, tickling the skin.

The trailer sits alone in the park, all lights off as he pulls up. With the turn of a key, his arm wraps around your waist as you walk in sync. It’s familiar as you help him turn on the lights, domestic, even. His jacket is off, tossed on the couch as he tugs you by the hand towards his room.

You’ve thought about it so many times, whisking away into his room with him to devour him completely. Usually it occurs when you’re mad stoned, happy and horny, but too blizted to make a move.

Your hands curtain the back of his neck, thumbs petting the nape of his neck and tangling themselves in his curls, rubbing in small circles. His lips connect to yours, stumbling over dirty laundry as he guides you to his bed. “Hmm, strawberries.”

He yelps as lands on his back, laughing as you collide with an oof. The playful moment is quickly replaced with intensity, staring down into his brown eyes, darkened by desire. Across the years of being his friend, he’s darkened his eyes in many moments, right before he decides to pin you down and tickle you senseless or when you talk down on yourself.

There were moments when his intense gaze took you aback, mostly when you innocently used too much enthusiasm in eating ice cream or put your hair up in a ponytail.

Or when you wore a sundress that sat a bit too high on your thigh.

All these moments suddenly make sense, filling you with a gust of emotion as you grab at him, tugging him harshly for a kiss much more powerful than you knew you had in you. He gasps into it, deep and desperate against your lips as you pull him closer. One of his hands travels downward, hiking under your skirt and grabbing at your thigh, your knee pulled up against his stomach.

Eddie turns you over on your back, hands grabbing at the skin harshly, his rings pressing at your skin hard enough to create an indent. Your leg wrapped around his waist tugs him down, his chest landing on yours.

“Question, my love,” Eddie mutters, words intertwined with his kisses. “Why the hell haven’t I seen this dress until now, it’s…oh my god.”

You grin against his lips, pushing your hands past his cotton shirt. “Waiting for a special occasion.”

“You telling me I could’ve seen this ages ago, baby?” He gasps, wrapping your tongue against his, delicate but enough to make you mewl into his mouth.

“Probably.”

He nips your lip, a punishment for your cheekiness. “It’ll look better on the floor.”

Your hips grind up, meeting the bulge in his pants just right. “You can’t say stuff like that–” you gasp, arms wrapping around his neck to hold on to him pathetically.

“You have no idea the things I’ve wanted to say to you.” His hand travels further up, passing the waistline of your panties and spreading on the skin of your tummy. “All the things I’ve held back…”

The admission is thrilling and terrifying, giving you almost everything you’ve ever wanted.

Now if you could get that bike you wanted for Christmas when you were twelve…

“Can you tell me now?” you ask, smiling up at his pretty, bewildered face.

“Hmm, patience,” he tuts, using his hand to explore. “Right now I just really want to touch your pussy, please, baby, please.”

It’s your turn for bewilderment. He’s acting like touching you is this great honor, instead of a means to an end like anyone else you’ve slept with. “Uh, yeah, I want that. I really, really want that.”

Eddie sighs, using his traveling hand and dipping it under the waistband of your panties. As his best friend, you’ve gotten so comfortable around him, arguably too much. Late nights in his room with a t-shirt and panties as his room fills with smoke. Eddie is only human, appreciating them too much as as you sat cross legged with the strip just a tad too thin for what it was supposed to cover.

This particular pair is decorated in lace up the front, a sheer lace for the bum, a light blue to match the flowers. His fingers latch to your pussy, delicately moving them up and down the folds.

“Oh my god,” he sighs, playing with the slick and spreading it. “You’re so wet, all this…all this for me?”

He adds more pressure, rubbing small circles and watching you throw your head back and melt in the heat that spreads across your thighs and takes form in a tremble, in a shake. “F-feels good.”

“Yeah?” he asks, placing his thumb on your clit and rotating it in tiny circles. “You like the way I play with your pussy, baby?”

You frantically nod, grinding up against him. “Need..need more. Please? More?”

“What does more mean?” He leans in, decorating your neck with sucks and bites and licks. “You want me to lick it, baby? You need my fingers, you already beggin’ for my cock? C’mon my girl, use your words.”

You might just beg for his cock, but you don’t want it to be over so quickly. “Want–want your fingers, Eds.”

He giggles, planting a nice wet kiss on your lips. “That’s my girl.” He doesn’t wait a second, curling one finger past your entrance and pumping it slowly, building a slow momentum that pulls at your stomach. He sighs, husky and deep, “Fuck, it’s so tight.”

He removes his finger without warning, not commenting on the moan in disappointment that escapes your mouth. He sits up, grabbing at the waistline as he tugs them down your legs, slowly, carefully, savoring in the moment. He lifts up the skirt, exposing the landing strip that sits waiting for his eyes.

“Did you decorate your pussy just for me? It looks so pretty… Thank you, baby girl,” Eddie is borderline emotional in his gratitude, showering you with praises.

Your legs attempt to close back together in embarrassment from his intense stare. He notices it, pushing your legs back down. “Do me a favor, won’t you? Keep these legs open while I eat your pussy.”

You drench your thighs, turned on even from the mere idea of being with him. “Mmkay.”

“You–” he gasps, delicately licking at the mound. “You taste so good. Wanted to bury my face in this little cunt for so long.”

His hands lift your thighs up and over his shoulder. His mouth tells you he knows exactly what he’s doing, listening to the cues you give him through your quivers and whines. The dress is completely covering his face, hiding the man that is eating you out, slowly and carefully, as if wanting to taste every drop of arousal you feed him.

Before long, your legs start shaking in his hold from the pleasure that has your hands tangled in your hair, eyes squeezed tight as he pulls whine after whine from you. One finger slides right back in, facing no resistance, sucking on your clit simultaneously. That arches your back and curls your toes, gasping from his build up, his words, god just from the years of mental torture.

You cum against his lips without warning, for him or yourself, twitching around his fingers and crying out his name.

He coaxes you through it, kissing your pretty pussy lips gently until your legs stop convulsing. Sweat beads on your forehead, spreading on your back and neck and making the thick fabric of the dress too hot. You untie each ribbon, desperately grabbing at the neckline to pull it up and off.

He kisses up your torso, laughing as you get stuck with the dress half off. One heel digs in his back in retaliation, whining as you gesture to him to help you. “I’m sorry, you’re just so cute.” Eddie giggles.

You whine, kicking your legs for him to hurry up. Your hair is stuck in your dress. It lifts over your head, a light bra covering your tits acting as a tease for him. The dress lands on the floor, nice and splayed out as it’s done its purpose.

You roll your eyes, tugging him in for a desperate kiss by the neck, wandering hands moving south to tug at his t-shirt. “Wanna see you, too,” you confess, helping him rid of his shirt. “Show me those tattoos.”

“You like the tatties?” You nod enthusiastically although you know he’s just teasing you. “Oh, I bet ya do. Probably ogled them while I wasn’t lookin’ huh?”

With a chest like his, you don’t imagine he could blame you. You let your eyes speak for you, raking over his covered chest and openly staring. “Wanna suck your cock.” You look up at him with big doe eyes, silently begging.

Eddie’s eyes widen at your admission, groaning as you start to undo his jeans. “Fuck, I don’t know if I’ll last that long…I need to be buried in you, wanna feel that pussy around my cock.”

You gulp, wrapping your legs around his torso so his jeans meet your pussy, probably drenching a wet spot on the front. “Me too…but I remember you said you didn’t really get reciprocated very much.” You inhale, gathering courage. “I remember thinking how I’d love to spend hours with your cock down my throat.”

Eddie keels over you, curling his face in your neck as he whimpers. “You were holding that back from me?” He punches the mattress right next to your head, a mild temper tantrum. “What other depraved thoughts have you been hiding from me?”

“You want me to tell you, or show you?” You’re not sure where this surge of confidence is coming from, but you’re running with it, especially if it means you can hear him make that sound again.

“Sh-show me- want you to show–” he nods, whimpering into your neck and shuddering.

“Mmkay,” you muse, smirking at just how easily the shoe falls on the other foot. “Get on your back.”

He complies promptly, wrapping his arm around the small of your back and turning the two of you over. You straddle him, grabbing at his chest carefully as you plant kisses all the way down his lean torso. You bring teeth into the mix, sucking and biting and marking your territory.

You’ve been itching to do so since he showed up one morning with bruises decorating his neck, claiming his hookup got a little too eager.

I'll show you eager, you begrudgingly think, wishing that all the boys were teasing him from bruises you gave him, instead. God, there was one planted on his collarbone that was excessively large, annoyingly so.

You mark your way down his chest, his stomach, lapping greedily at his treasure trail as he whimpers at your enthusiasm. This is power, you think to yourself, wondering what other noises you could conjure from him. As your mouth moves, so do your hands, undoing his belt slowly, taking your time as you unzip his fly.

The evidence of his arousal is strikingly clear, his boxers bulging out of the open fly and begging for your attention. While your subtle glances downward gave you an inkling of his size, his hardened cock presenting itself to you, even disguised in its plaid wrapping, had you letting out a gasp in unbridled lust.

You wrap your hand around it, gleaming as he hisses, a hushed swear passing through his lips. You watch his face, observing him as you place your lips on the covered shaft, just letting him feel the heat of your breath on it. “Oh, fuck–” Eddie chokes, letting out harsh shudders.

The sight of his face is borderline angelic, all of his walls down as he focuses on you. You can’t help but smile at that, at how you desperately wished for nights like these, only paying attention to one another. You poke your tongue out, drenching the cotton fabric with your spit, working your way down the length.

At his little whines, you finally curl his fingers under his waistband, drooling at the taut cock that pops out, giving you a friendly hello, swaying from the spring. You smile ear to ear, delicately wrapping your hand around the base.

You kiss the tip, lapping at the pearl of precum that gives the clear indication of his arousal, as if his hard on wasn’t enough. “Mmm,” you hum at the salty taste, leaning in to suck every last drop from his flushed tip.

You let the saliva that has pooled on the surface of your tongue drool onto his cock, spreading it down the shaft, absorbing the moan he rewards you with. “Shit, that feels–oh my god.”

You smile with pride, finally taking him into your mouth, enthusiastically bobbing up and down on his length. Your eyes remain on his, watching him as his face melts, committing it to memory.

“Oh, Jesus,” he swears, hips rutting up, clawing further into your mouth. You take him in further, gagging on it as you wrap your tongue around it experimentally, choking loudly and purposely. “Ch-choke on it, yeah, ch-ohmy god, just like that–”

Your hand moves in rhythm with your mouth, slobbery sounds of spit on flesh, his and yours, deliciously wet. He tenses up beneath you, whines growing more desperate, moans huskier, deeper. It’s a marvelous melody, one no composer could make even if they tried their hardest.

“St-st-stop,” he stutters, curling over himself, writhing under you. “Stop–I-I’m gonna cum.”

Reluctantly you listen, lifting your head off him with a pop and cheekily smiling at his heaving chest. You crawl upward, yelping as he wraps his arm around the small of your back and tugs you in for a kiss, more powerful, wrapped in an unnamed emotion you couldn’t possibly let yourself be delusional enough to define as. The one hand crawled up your back undoes the clasp of your bra, tugging it off your arms and flinging it across the room.

“Gimme those tits,” Eddie sighs, kneading them in his hands and toying with the flesh and nips. “Oh, they’re so pretty, baby. I love them, I‘ve wanted to play with them for so long.”

Eddie’s legs move under you, kicking off his jeans while holding you close to his chest. You sit up, tugging him up with you as you hover just over him.

His skin directly on yours, close and toe curling as you straddle his lap, arms wrapped around his neck as you stare into his eyes. There’s a glow in them, eyebrows relaxed as he holds your hips, staring up at you with such enamour. “Want your cock,” it’s only a whisper, but loud in the intimacy between you two. “I want you.”

His brows furrow, only a moment. The thought passes through him quick as a flash, but you see it.

“What was that?”

He smiles, relieved and tender. “I’ve wanted you for so long.” He leans in, pressing kisses on your clavicle, your neck, your shoulder, the swell of your breast. “Not-not just like this. I mean, fuck, I wanted it, so, so bad. But…I’ve wanted you, wanted your late nights and early mornings, to help you when you need to study, wash the dishes…sorry, I’m rambling.”

You pet his cheek, shaking your head. “No. Keep going.”

“I mean, we’ve always sort of had that, you know? It was just torture, not kissing you stupid whenever I wanted…because I wanted to. I wanted to, so much, baby. I love you. So much. You’re my best friend, my person, and I just love you so fucking much.”

A breath of a laugh passes through your lips, attempting to absorb what he had just told you. “Really?”

You smile, holding him tightly as you kiss him, sighing happily as he confirms, nodding frantically. The head brushes against your entrance, pulling a whine from you. “Eds, I-I love you, too.” The kisses get more fierce, Eddie clinging onto you harder and nearly attacking your lips. “But…if you don’t fuck me soon I might actually lose my mind,” You giggle.

He laughs, combing his fingers through your hair, away from your face, from the sweat. He slaps his cock against your clit, teasing you with his head. “Of course, baby, you wanna ride me, hmm? Hop up and down on my big fat cock?”

You nod, biting your bottom lip, hissing when he pushes his head in, watching as your jaw drops. “Oh, look at you, I knew you could take it like a good girl.”

You choke back a whine, swallowing hard as his words have such a strong effect on you. ‘Fuck, f-feels so good.” You stop, mewling as the burn of his girth becomes too much.

“Don’t rush yourself, baby, it’s okay.” He puts his hands on your hips, digging into the soft flesh. “So nice and tight, fuck.” His eyes practically roll to the back of his head.

You sink further, taking him deeper as the burn bleeds into bliss and back to burning again. “Jesus, s’good.”

“Mm, almost there, baby.”

“Move, please. Eds. Need-need you to move.”

Eddie chuckles, large hands holding your back. He lifts his hips, slowly filling you to the hilt and bringing it back out, one hand landing by his side to use it for leverage. You chirp out his name, mewling as he slowly rocks his hips. “Love the way you say my name,” he gasps.

You start rocking, slowly lifting your hips as you assist him. “You gonna make me scream it?”

“If that’s a challenge, then I will happily accept,” Eddie growls, gripping onto your hips harder and pulling you down so the union of where your bodies meet hurts in the best way. “Wonder when those legs will give up, hm?”

“I’ve thought about riding you on the couch too many times to give up easily,” you admit, giggling at his wicked grin.

“Oh, have you now? Been wearing those little panties just so I’d snap and ravish you, hmm?” He asks, hair wild as he watches you bounce on him.

“Maybe,” you admit, though that was mostly just out of comfort and trust of your best friend. “You have stronger will power than I thought you would.”

“Hmm, you think too much of me, baby,” Eddie mutters, framing your face with his hand and pulling you in for a kiss.

Admittedly, your legs are growing tired, but you soldier on, connecting your forehead with his desperately and watching his eyes glaze over. Your head already feels hazy, heat building in your stomach as you rapidly climb towards your climax. “You getting close? About to cum on my cock?”

You nod, startling in your movement as he starts to move you quicker with just the tightening of his grip on your hips. “Eds,” You whimper as he rubs his thumb on your clit, rapid movements as he hurdles you towards your orgasm, your cunt tightening around him as your eyes roll back.

“Lemme feel you squeeze my cock, baby, wanna feel you cum all over it.” Almost as he demands it into existence, you finish with a start, twisting your toes together and hunching over his shoulder while he rolls his hips, gasping and whining and mewling. “Oh, that’s my girl. Here, bet those legs’re gettin’ tired, hmm?”

You nod, giddily giggling as he maneuvers you on your back. “God, I love you. I really really do. I don’t–I don’t know what the fuck I’ve been thinking–”

You slap your hand on his mouth, giggling at his wide eyes. “Sorry, but…shut up. Rail me. Destroy me. We have time for all that later, now quit getting all emotional on me.” You take your hand off his mouth and pat his cheek. “Be a good boy and make me scream your name, won’t you?”

He chuckles deeply, his jaw dropping as he nips on the palm of your hand. “‘Be a good boy,’ hmm? Yes, ma’am.”

Okay, this turns you on too much not to eventually dissect it, but Eddie’s hips start moving, harsh and raw and brutal, just as you asked for. With each collision of his hips comes a whimper from the force, each one louder than the last.

His head curls down into your neck, sinking his teeth into your skin as he sucks and bites and laps his tongue over the pain. “Look at your neck, all marked up. All mine,” He rasps.

“All yours,” you whisper, choking on the emotion that fills your throat.

“My good girl who loves to get fucked hard, hmm?” He chuckles, curling his arms tightly around you. “Oh, listen to those pretty little noises you’re making, so pathetic for me, oh fuck.”

“Ed-keep-oh-oh–” you gasp, whining higher and higher.

“Yeah, just like that. Pathetic little princess.”

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him in close, skin to skin, all sticky and sweaty as the smell of sex fills the air.

“You’re moaning like a desperate little slut but you’re not screaming my name, yet. Can’t wait for it. Hmm? Why you makin’ me wait?”

“Maybe you’re not hitting hard enough,” you gasp, a smile spreading across your face.

Eddie’s eyes widen, lifting his body off yours quickly. “Oh yeah? Hands n’ knees. Turn around.” He sends a jolt of fear through you, eyes widening as move into a crawl position. “That’s a girl.”

His hands tighten on your hips, lining himself up and pushing in all within the span of 3 seconds. He’s relentless with it, lurching forward as he grabs a fistful of your hair. “C’mon, I can’t hear you.” He taunts you, pulling deliciously at your scalp.

He starts moving faster and harder, clumsily planting his lips on your back, messily trying to take any claim he can on you. One hand slaps your ass, Eddie hums, appreciating the print of his hand on your skin. Moans pass through your lips, the loud ones that Eddie was asking of you. HIs name is added into the mix, cross eyed and desperate as he somehow increases his force.

“There we are. Where do ya want me to cum, baby, I’m so fuckin’ close.”

“Cum–cum in me, Eds. Fill me up.”

“Fuck-you, y’sure?”

“Fill. Me up.” You say again, getting your point across.

“Oh fuck–” he stutters, jaggedly rutting into you as he bends over you, filling you up with sticky white ropes. “You feel that, baby? Fuck. You feel all full?”

Eddie releases the hold on your hair as you fall forward, breathing heavily as you collect yourself. He pulls himself out, collapsing right next to you. His arms easily wrap around your back, pulling you in against his chest. You curl into him, sighing happily as you listen to his racing heart.

You lay like that for a while, listening to his breathing even out as he pets your hair gently. He plants a kiss on your forehead, humming. “Why did that take us so long to do?” You ask, still trying to regain control over your breathing.

“Hmm?” He pulls away, processing your question. “Oh, I don’t know. We’re idiots.”

You tug him back in, feeling sleepy as you smile against his chest. “Yeah. Big, big idiots. I love you, idiot.”

He hums, pulling you in tighter. “Love you too, ya idiot.”

It’s strange. You thought it would change everything if he were to finally be yours. It doesn’t change anything, banter traded as always, only with a caressing hand that tugs you in for a kiss when he teases you. Hormones go wild, finding resolve in one another as movies are no longer watched, just a nice background noise.

-

Thank you so much for reading, remember replies and reblogs are the best way to support fic writers on tumblr

Taglist For I Can Do It With A Broken Heart:

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bold means it wouldnt let me tag you so I DM'd you in private to you know.

[kyuuppi]

Genshin men Instagram HCs

Ft. Xiao; Scaramouche; Zhongli; Childe; Alhaitham; Kaveh; Tighnari

(gender neutral reader but wears a dress in Scara & Zhongli's parts)

Xiao // @ a1atus

★ ★ pre-relationship ★ ★

Very rarely posts

Never pictures of himself, you’ll only see his face in tagged photos

If he does post, it’s probably a new album cover of a band he likes, a particularly good plate of almond tofu from his favorite café, or—if he’s in a particularly good mood—a cute stray cat that befriended him on the street

Never edits anything but still takes pretty decent photos because he understands basic composition rules

Never tags anything but will sometimes write simple captions like “new guitar”

His pfp has not changed since he made his account and its literally just the blandest selfie you’ve ever seen—but he’s effortlessly photogenic so even when he’s just staring at the camera with a blank expression he looks hot

★ ★ in a relationship ★ ★

Xiao will unintentionally do his loyal boyfriend duties and like all of your posts but he never actually leaves a comment unless you specifically ask him to but you have to tell him what to say or else you’ll just get something like “your hair is nice” LOL

Maybe makes one post related to you but it doesn’t have your face—just picture of your hands holding each other or a photo he secretly took of you from behind as you admire some paintings from when he took you on an art gallery date

Still doesn’t write much in captions but if the post includes you, he always adds a little black heart emoji 🖤

Scaramouche // @ balladeer

★ ★ pre-relationship ★ ★

Vehemently claims he’s not chronically online but he definitely is

Def has a dark / emo aesthetic profile and puts more effort into it than he’d ever admit

Uses stories pretty frequently

Usually to show off his game stats and victories or to vent about some annoying inconvenience that's just happened to him 

balladeer Jfc the train is late again I may as well just walk home everyday ffs

All his late night gaming photos are so highly saturated in his pitch black bedroom, the only source of light being his screen on max brightness and his violet RGB keyboard. If you raise the screen brightness on your phone you might be able to make out some empty Monster cans and ramen cups on his desk—he absolutely gives Discord / Reddit mod vibes 🤢

Definitely has a story archive just for Valorant 🤮

I wanna fuck him so bad it makes me look stupid—

Posts a few selfies to show a new piercing or the very rare occasion where he’s feeling really confident in his looks

unintentionally thirst traps the emo boy lovers; yes, I am talking about you and I—

Lightly edits photos or uses filters to make them look good but nothing extreme or super aesthetic, mostly just for decent contrast

Usually the first one to see any of his friends posts but never ‘likes’ them

Will leave snarky or sarcastic comments when the mood strikes tho

His pfp is a candid picture someone else took that he thinks he looks decent in—sticking his tongue out and giving double middle fingers to the camera

★ ★ in a relationship ★ ★

Makes a post or story for every date you guys have, even if it’s just a vague picture of your shoes together

He likes to show off that he has such an attractive s/o but also lowkey just wants to have a memory to look back on for the nights he feels lonely

Doesn’t post just you though, he’s always in frame holding you or touching you in some way—he feels the need to put some sort of claim cause he thinks people are gonna shoot their shot with you—he’s kinda paranoid and insecure, pls have patience w him

Likes and comments on all of your posts. Sometimes it's a snarky quip like if you post about you and your friends doing something funny he might comment “lmao ur so dumb” but if its a selfie or something you’re proud of, he leaves a little compliment and heart emoji.

YN0103 [bedroom mirror selfie of you shyly posing in a dress]

YN0103  Bought a new dress today…it’s not my usual style but I rlly like it 🥺

balladeer cute 💜

If anyone ever confronts him in person about his nice comments on your posts tho he’ll get flustered and claim his account was temporarily hacked LOL

His heart def flutters when you post a picture of him on your own account

He kinda can’t believe you’re proud enough of him to publicly post about him

Changes his pfp to the two of you together and, if you zoom in and squint, you can tell he’s kind of smiling <3

Zhongli // @ rex_lapis

★ ★ pre-relationship ★ ★

I’m sorry but I have to do it…

He has Facebook grandpa vibes

Like he has no idea how to use half of the features; stories are an absolute mystery to him. What is a reel?

But he tries to be supportive of his friends and will leave way-too eloquent comments with a Wikipedia levels of supplemental information

a1atus [ photo of a shiny Fender acoustic guitar laying on what seems to be a bed]

a1atus new guitar

rex_lapis Lovely new instrument, Xiao. You seem to have quite good tastes – that particular model is popular among many professional musicians. It is well renowned for its clear sound and beautiful mahogany exterior. If you wouldn’t mind, I would love to hear you play it someday over tea.

a1atus @ rex_lapis thanks

the way I cackled writing that exchange ygweyufgwyu Xiaos just like ‘thanks for commenting dad’

His pfp is not him—it’s probably a famous painting he likes or a beautiful white flower from a garden he visited

★ ★ in a relationship ★ ★

If you want him to improve his Insta game, you’re going to have to teach him, I’m sorry

On the up side, Zhongli is a great student and is eager to learn anything you teach him

Will try to post pretty regularly; usually somewhat mediocre photos of beautiful scenery like sunsets and flowers

Like Scaramouche, he enjoys the idea of documentary your time together so he posts something at the end of each of your dates

Your heart lowkey melts when Zhongli, very earnestly, asks after dinner if you’ll allow him to take a selfie with you to post on his Instagram

Regularly asks for feedback on his posts to ensure he’s properly taking your advice and improving :,)

He even starts organizing and naming story archives on his profile—simple titles like “tea,” “nature,” “friends,” and “my dearest”

Likes and comments on every single one of your posts and replies to all of your stories, even if he was there with you

Usually just lathers you in compliments on your beauty or tastes but they’re so thoughtfully written that it’s obvious he’s not “just saying it” and genuinely believes all the kind things about you he writes

YN1231 [photo of you twirling in a summer dress amidst a colorful of bed of flowers in a botanical garden, take by your friend]

YN1231 It’s finally starting to feel like spring! 🌸🌼🌺

rex_lapis While the camelias are lovely, they pale in comparison to your radiance. Your yellow sundress is also quite lovely and compliments your complexion in the morning sunlight. Truly a divine sight. 

balladeer @ YN1231 @ rex_lapis ugh can you guys keep it in the DMs

- Changes his pfp to a selfie of himself smiling after you told him he should. The angle is a little odd but he’s so naturally attractive that he still manages to look good. 

Ajax // @ tartaglia_on_top 

★ ★ pre-relationship ★ ★

Doesn’t post too often but when he does, it kinda gives stereotypical frat boy

Like, lots of parties and shirtless beach photos with his friends

The surprise is the occasional posts of his little siblings and kids he volunteers with in between

He sometimes posts championship and practice photos from his martial arts competitions with captions thanking his team and mentors

Is pretty popular—has a few thousand followers, many are people he met just once or twice at parties or genuine friends and classmates, but the vast majority are online fans who just follow cause he’s hot LOL

Is the type of person you followed once after meeting a long time ago and never talk to again but you can’t bring yourself to unfollow cause he’s nice and his updates are kinda interesting and he’s hot

Isn’t online that much so he doesn’t like/comment on his friends’ every post but usually tries to leave congratulatory messages when someone accomplishes something or graduates

His pfp is a closeup of himself with a boyish grin he cropped from a group photo

★ ★ in a relationship ★ ★

It is super obvious when you guys start dating cause almost every post from that point is about you in some way LOL

tartaglia_on_top [photo of Ajax, sweaty and exhausted but clearly excited as he holds a trophy in one hand with the other wrapped around your waist while he presses a kiss to your cheek]

tartaglia_on_top Officially a 3 year championship winner! Thanks to my biggest supporter @ YN0720 😘

He’s not even consciously trying to post you all the time, it just happens because you are either always together or any memorable moment he thinks are worth an Insta post involve you in some way

You’re the only person, aside from his family - that he actually likes/comments on all posts for

Is the type of boyfriend to leave those super dramatic, embarrassing comments on your selfies like “DAAAMN BABE 🥵 finna make me act UP” and, in one particularly shameless case, “god youre so hot pls step on me queen 😍” 

Please block him

He shamelessly liked all your past posts from before you too met as well—you were kinda mortified to wake up one morning to a notification that just said “what a lil cutie ❤️” on a post of yourself from seventh grade. 

Changes his pfp to a couple selfie he took of the two of you kissing on a winter vacation in the mountains

Kaveh // @ kaveh.designs

★ ★ pre-relationship ★ ★

Obsessed with having an aesthetic profile

Like, the color palette of the background and clothing in his pfp selfie are carefully matched with the cover of each of his story archives, down to the hex code

He carefully edits every post and uses filters to make them all fit with his theme no matter how inaccurate to real life they may become

“Huh…I thought your bedroom wall was a bit more orange than this…” 

“Oh, that’s cause I use 30% Juno in all my bedroom photos for a warmer finish.”

“???”

Despite his aesthetic profile, he doesn’t come off as particularly vain or narcissistic—only posts selfies when he’s has a particularly good hair day or changed his accessories

Most of his posts are of places he travels to (museums and big cities with interesting architecture) or his own sketches and rendered design projects

Online pretty frequently, always checks insta when he wakes up, before bed, and during lunch breaks

His stories are often project updates, interesting things he encounters throughout the day, or food photos

Only likes posts he actually likes and sometimes comments with photography critiques

tighnar1 [photo of a cluster of three bright blue mushrooms clustered against vibrant green grass and patches of dark, wet soil]

tighnar1 Proof the forest is an amazing place: found this beautiful little cluster of juvenile Rakkhashava mushrooms on my hike today. Great spotting by @ colleeei. Check my story for some cool mushroom facts. 🍄

kaveh.designs great photo composition, Tigh, perfect golden ratio on the caps.

tighnar1 @ kaveh.designs Thanks I guess…

Has a decent number of followers, many of whom are also artists familiar with Kaveh’s reputation from the Kshahrewar. Others just like his OOTD stories and charming smile

★ ★ in a relationship ★ ★

Kaveh revamps his entire profile once you two become official

His pfp becomes a candid taken by a stranger of the two of you together at an aquarium, holding hands as you point something out to him through the glass

It was taken by a photographer working at the aquarium as part of a promotion—the photographer showed you two the photo and asked for permission to post it on their official website and Kaveh was absolutely obsessed with the photo—it’s still one of his favorite and it doesn’t even show your faces

He still matches his archived story covers to his new pfp but his actual feed had become a lot more relaxed and natural now

He still slightly edits photos so they look as good as possible, but he doesn’t like using filters on photos of you or the two of you together because he thinks it would be a disservice to your natural beauty

Like Ajax, his posts and stories naturally become mostly about you whether scenes from your dates—candid photos he takes of you where he insists you look like art even though you’re just in pajamas with an unmade face—or even photos of things he sees throughout the day that remind him of you

Sometimes he posts stories of funny reels or art pieces he knows you’d like and tags you in them with messages like “@YN0709 omg remember when we were talking abt this?” and “me & @ YN0709💕”

Similar to Childe, leaves the most downbad, dramatic comments on your posts

YN0709 [swimsuit selfie]

YN0709 happy summer! ☀️🌊

kaveh.designs Oh my god my heart– 💘 I cannot believe I get to come home to this every night 👅💦

YN0709 @ kaveh.designs omg kaveh pls 💀

al_haitham @ kaveh.designs Every time I see one of your comments I regret ever learning how to read.

Alhaitham // @ al_haitham  

★ ★ pre-relationship ★ ★

Only made an account so his friends would stop bothering him about not keeping up with things tbh

Checks his feed a few times a day but skips through stories if they’re too long/too many

Absolutely hates concert stories the most cause they’d loud, long, and filled with off-key drunken singing

Never likes or comments on anything unless it’s really interesting to him

Occasionally shares reels in his story that are like interesting history facts or official Akademiya announcements

Has a few posts (and only cause Kaveh would not shut up about it) but they’re mostly just pictures of book covers he’d just finished reading with a detailed review or literary analysis as the caption—but he’s mindful of avoiding spoilers for those who haven’t read it

However, he does have one post that stands out quite a bit

He posted an unintentional gym third trap because he just happened to be working out, as is routine, and thought it might be nice to share some tips on proper rope pushdown form 

If you’re not a gym babe and don’t know what this is, I beg of you, please look up a gif or video and imagine Alhaitham doing this, shirtless. You’re welcome.

It has become his most popular post by far

His pfp is probably taken straight from his faculty ID card: plain background, bright lighting, neutral facial expression

★ ★ in a relationship ★ ★

After you two have become official and are pretty comfortably established in your relationship, he’ll post a photo of the two of you—probably one you took - with a simple caption like “Late night at Puspa Café with my favorite person 💚”

Everyone who knows him freaks out in the comments with variations of “omg hathie got an s/o???” and “wow he finally posted a normal pic of himself, y/n is a good influence” but he doesn’t reply to any of them lmao

If you use Instagram a lot, he’ll naturally become more active too because he enjoys learning more about what you like through your posts and stories

He likes all of your posts but never comments—if one of your posts interests him, he’d prefer to wait until he sees you later to ask you about it in person 

He just wants an excuse to talk to you more

As he becomes more active, little bits and pieces of your relationship naturally infiltrate his feed

His latest book review post has your favorite mug in the background because the two of you had breakfast together

His informational story post of an antique Sumerian emerald he found at a street vendor is being modeled by your pretty hands because you were with him when he saw it and later given to you after the vendor insisted on Alhaitham gifting it to his “beautiful spouse”

He changes his profile picture to the two of you from one of your many reading dates, comfortably lounging on a loveseat in a quiet corner of the library—and this time, he’s softly smiling

Tighnari // @ t1ghnar1

Surprisingly active on social media

He thinks social media is a great way to share information about the importance of forest conservation and get people to appreciate the beauty of Avidya forest

Makes one post almost every day and multiple stories

Needless to say, 90% of his posts are of plants or small animals he finds on his hikes or while working

His most popular posts are those of cute squirrels and birds that are being nursed back to health after being found wounded—animals just seem to naturally love him so the pictures are usually taken by his coworkers because his arms are full with cuddly animals that refuse to move

The other 10% of his posts are from the occasional hang outs with friends or coworkers after work—snaps of iced fruit teas from Puspa café or colorful clay plates overflowing with Collei’s homemade pita pockets. 

He makes sure to reply to or at least like every comment, particularly those from people asking questions about the plants he posts or how to become a forest ranger. Even simple “wow that's so cool” comments often get at least a “thanks, glad you liked it” from Tighnari

He tends to use some cute forest or food emoji when they fit with his posts. For example, 🍄,🥙,🦊,🐦, etc.

Also tends to use “:)” when replying to his followers because he knows it can be difficult to read tone in text-based communications

Tigh is basically a social media manager at this point oops

Because he is online so much, he naturally keeps up with almost everything his friends post and will like or comment on things he finds interesting

His pfp is a selfie of himself with a small yellow bird perched on his shoulder from one of his patrols

★ ★ in a relationship ★ ★

All Tighnaris written by me WILL follow the “fennec foxes mate for life” trope regardless of AU, it is an indisputable law of the universe

If you’re in a relationship with Tighnari, you should be prepared for stability and commitment in general

While he doesn’t go out of his way to make an official announcement post or anything like that, you become a regular feature on his page

Will tag you in anything you’re related to, unless you specifically ask him not to

t1ghnar1 [photo of a small, cream-colored fox brushing itself against Tighnari’s leg and looking up at the camera with large eyes]

t1ghnar1 On a walk with @ YN1229 this morning we spotted this cute little kit without her mom. 🦊 While adorable, foxes - even kits - are wild animals and should never be approached unless by professionals. We have informed the local animal control where she will be taken care of until we can locate her family. Photo by @ YN1229

He never outright announces you as his lover but he seems to spend so much time with you and refer to you so casually that his followers who don’t know him just assume you’re his spouse LOL

He doesn’t bother to correct them either :,)

bennie_boy Wow, that mountain is so high up - wasn’t ur spouse scared to go up there?

t1ghnar1 @ bennie_boy Y/n has been on so many trips like this with me that they’re pretty used to it. :)

Likes your posts as he see them on his feed and occasionally leaves a short comment like, “beautiful <3”

[arlertwhore]

pairing: caitlin 'my husband' clark x fem! reader synopsis: caitlin dedicates u a shot @ her game for that cookie 😄 word count: 580 warning(s): unedited asf reader gives virgin so idk? virginity loss?? idk, fingering, calm smut not too heavy bc this wasn't supposed 2 be smut but.., idk thinkin' that's it.

Author Note: i wish i could piece together words on how in-love I am with Caitlin Clark like I don't think anybody understands how badly I want her its not FUNNY!!

Her hands were like vines all over you, gripping your waist, gripping your thighs, and reeling you in closer. She wasn’t lying when she'd said she wanted to do this for a long time—after a drawn-out texting stage, an even longer going-out stage, and finally, the game-winning shot she had hit—a buzzer-beater logo-three, earning not just cheers but the right to take you, her little prize home.

Now, in the dim glow of a random hotel’s couch, she indulged in you with the fervor of months upon months that had felt like years.

Her big hands cup your waist, grip hungrily at your ass, and you gasp, squealing under her touch. "Slow down…" you have to tell her, but she's so relentless, her lips tracing your jawline needily, then down your neck.

Her fingers dance toward the curve of your stomach. "Slow down?" she grins, her voice salacious and playful in that totally Caitlin way.

"First time on this ride," she references her lap, shifting up slightly so you receive the notion, and you marvel at her strength (evident by how her biceps flex as they clutched your waist and worked your body), but also the implications of the action itself. "Don't tell me you want offsies already," she purred, eyes lustful and playful as she nuzzled her nose into your chest like a kitten, "Not after I worked so hard for you." You're so captivated by her. You can't even reply. A mischievous dimpled smile on her face, you kiss at her forehead. In the dim light, her pale skin glows softly, and her long nose is sooo unbelievably fucking hot to you. She looks up at you. Her damp, dark brown hair clings to her shoulders, glinting as it catches the faint glow. Her shirt is raked up over her biceps, the fabric stretched taut over the defined muscles, revealing her strength as she holds you effortlessly on her lap. Her hand absentmindedly draws circles into the crook of your back, the repeated initials of your name together.

"You did, Caity. You're a good girl." "Am I?" she teased, voice edging you flirtatiously.

"Fuckkk," you hear her whisper absentmindedly, surging forward to lick at your stomach softly, tickling you and setting your neveres alight as she reveled in her admiration.

You almost melt at her confidence and gentlemanly nature. Even after getting to explore you like she'd always dreamed, even after making her wait, she's all "Thank you," aloud and proud to be heard. Then, smaller again, a deeper whisper: "No fuckin' panties for me, baby, thank you."

You can't speak. Her hand inches its way to the front and grazes over it softly, delicate, featherlight. "Tell me," she whispers, her voice the softest, sweet, and playfully teasing—so demure and alluring you can’t help but crumble in her hands like putty. You press your forehead to hers, a soft moan swallowed by her lips before it can escape. "You're a good girl..." you repeat again, "I love it." You feel her smirk against your lips. 'Yeah, you do,' she murmurs, her long, deliberate finger inching its long ways in, finding its place as if it’s always belonged there.

"Can feel it," she whispers, a playful glint in her eyes. You smile.

Sometime later when she's fucked you with her fingers, mouth, knee, and used a few toys on you, she's satisfied with what she's earne.

Nobody understands how she snipes 3 after 3 on court, only you do.

AUTHOR NOTE #2: SOOO what did u guys think!! i'm a bit rusty from that big sabbatical but meh.. not back at all b4 it's asked, just cooked this up a week ago, and wanted to commerate my hawt wife caitlin. talk to me guys <3

[thebearer]

i saw a few tik tok parents saying like parenting has made them feel like they were healing themselves. and i feel like carm would do like little affirmations with baby bear in the mirror like “i am pretty. i am strong(and it would be funny for her to say ‘like uncle richie).” and it like eases his anxiety and his mind for some reason

carmen would 10000% heal his inner child that way, and he's a fucking die hard "i'm gonna break this cycle" type guy bc chaos and all of that is obv not good.

sometimes he has slip ups, he'll yell or get irrationally mad (like his mother) when she does something that she doesn't really understand, but he tries not to. he really fucking tries.

just picturing carmen changing baby teddy bear or holding her while he rocks her to sleep, maybe feeding her a bottle in the morning so they start off on a good note, he'd do these little affirmations. you started it and he caught on, felt a little silly at first, but that's his baby. she's perfect to him, so he'll let her know that.

"you are the light of my life. you are so loved. your parents are so, so proud of you- let me say that one again, because mommy and me will always be proud of you. you know that? no matter what." carmen coos, in a soft tone just looking down at her. the rational side of him knows she doesn't understand, but the way she's staring back... he feels like she does.

"you can be anything you want. your life is fun and filled with joy. you are smart. you are kind. you are beautiful- so beautiful, teddy bear, look just like your mama, thankfully-"

"-carmen," you cross your arms in the doorway, catching his attention. "it's not a good affirmation if you put yourself down."

he sighs, a little embarrassed, mostly because he knows you're right. you walk towards him, gently running a hand over her soft hair. "you are so talented, like your daddy." you gleam at him. "and you are so loving, like your daddy."

"and like your mommy." carmen adds, your hand squeezing his shoulder gently. "and you are so loved."

"so loved." you mutter, kissing the top of her head. you tilt your head towards carmen, so close your noses are touching. "and you are too, carmy. so loved. by me and teddy and everyone else." he blushes at your words, head reeling into your kiss.

sometimes when his mind is racing, telling him he's no good and filling with bad thoughts, he'll think back to you two, looking at his phone or the nearest pictures. the words and phrases he says to teddy coming back to him, soothing him gently, pushing away those thoughts- your voice trumping over them telling him how loved he is, how proud of him you are. it's grounding, and it fucking works somehow.

[chrisgotitall]

I've always wanted to do this! Since I found out he has a pilot's license.

Mike didn't call or text you for weeks now and you were getting really worried. You didn't think he was the type to ghost you completely but apparently he was. And you didn't think this was becoming that serious but here you were on your couch waiting and hoping for your phone to buzz and for a message from him to pop up.

A knock on the door shook you up, you looked at the time, it was pretty late. You got up and went to open the door. It was Mike.

"Hi..." he simply said, but he obviously wanted to say more than that.

"What are you doing here?" you said crossing your arms. You sounded mad but not how you wanted to.

"I'm here to apologize, I know, I fucked up and I didn't want to. If you let me, I wanna make it up to you" he continued, his eyes pleading.

"Well, it's pretty late now..."

"It's actually the perfect time" he said.

"What?" you didn't understand what he tried to say to you.

"Grab your coat, I'll wait for you in the car" and he went downstairs. You stood on the door for a few seconds. What was he planning? It's too late for dinner, too late for any type of date or any type of apology really. But you dressed with something more casual than your PJs and went downstairs. You got in his car.

"Where are you taking me?" you asked him. He kept his eyes on the road.

"It's not a specific place. Actually we won't stop moving" he said.

"Are you going to kidnap me or something?" you didn't know what to think. This guy was confusing as hell but you were hanging from his lips anyway.

He chuckled, "No, I promise. I wanna make it up to you"

You arrived at a building, you didn't recognize it. He opened the door and let you go inside first. He went to the elevator and you followed him. You looked at him through the elevator's mirror and he did the same, a little smirk showing on his face. It was his usual side smirk.

The elevator arrived at the last floor, you were now at the very top of the building. The view was amazing, you could see the whole skyline and lights, it was breathtaking from up there. But on that terrace there was one more thing that was breathtaking, a helicopter was standing there. You never saw one from up close. You looked at Mike.

"What is...?" you started questioning but he was already approaching the aircraft. He opened the door.

"Here you go..."

You got inside and he followed you.

"Put these on, please" he handed you a pair of headphones and you took them putting them on.

"What am I supposed to do with these headphones?" you asked as he put his own on.

"These are aeronautical headphones, you're gonna need them to hear ourselves as we go up" he explained.

"So you're really going to fly this thing?"

"Well, yeah, what did you think?" he said starting the aircraft.

As you went up you couldn't help but look down, you saw the roof becoming smaller and smaller and you were now able to watch the whole city from up above. It was astonishing.

"I didn't know you had a pilot's certificate" you said smiling.

"Glad I was able to surprise you" he was smiling as well, feeling proud of himself that he finally made you smile.

You continued flying around the city, he even let you drive it, of course he let you have control only when the helicopter was stabilized.

Mike landed the aircraft on the roof and let you out.

"So? How was it?" he asked you.

"I'm not gonna lie, it was really cool" you said, your knees weak from the adrenaline of the experience.

He took your hand, "Did I make it up to you?" he stopped to look at you in the eyed and moved a strand of hair from your face.

"I mean... yes" you said laughing.

[allthedamnlove]

The One where Sofia tells Rafe that they are having a baby

Heyy loves, I am supposed to be writing my actual story and working on my master thesis, but I can't shake this idea about how Rafe would feel if Sofia was pregnant. So here she is, my first full-fledged one-shot. I hope you guys like it considering that this is just a word vomit.

I'll upload it in Wattpad and Ao3 as soon as possible.

Enjoy. There's just a smidge of angst if you look very closely, but it's 99.9% pure fluff.

Taglist: @popou61 @araybiaaa

The moment that I knew that I was pregnant was actually on a random Thursday afternoon during work. 

My work as an English and Spanish teacher to primary kids and middle school students meant that my entire day is filled with chortles of “Yes Mam!” “No Mam” and “Thank you mam!” or “buenos días señora!” and “gracias señora!” I am surrounded by tender lives whose limbs, brains and hearts are ever growing with curiosity and unfettered affection for the world itself. And as a teacher, it is my job to make sure that they don't lose their light in their lives. So I love children, I grew up with two younger siblings who were kids when I was toeing into my twenties and so naturally I understand what it is like to raise a kid and take care of them. When I graduated from college with my English Masters, I was confuddled about what to do with my degree and scared that my career won’t be satisfying and I’ll end up slaving away in a job that will slowly kill my love and passion for literature. Then weirdly enough, I was helping my niece, Valerie Routledge about English grammar when she stayed at Rafe’s and my place and safe to say, I was enamoured with the idea of teaching. I remember using her dollies and all the cute trinkets to make her comprehend articles and Rafe sitting beside me whispering, “Looks like you found your calling”

And here I am, spending everyday with kids and mostly loving it.

Like any job, it has its good days and bad days. Most of the times, it's both; no matter how cute, innocent and fragile kids maybe, at one point you get exhausted from all the running around, changing your tone to being overly sweet and helping student’s clean their uniforms if they spill orange juice. 

But at the end of the day, I am witnessing actual human lives grow, explore and expand their tiny universes and I am proud and in awe that I play a big part in that process. 

So, yea I had a hunch when I knew I was pregnant. 

I was perched on the wooden bench on the staff lounge, munching on my Italian pesto sandwich and chilli flavored potato chips (It was Rafe’s turn to cook and he makes a mean Pesto chicken sandwich) as I read the note that he sent along with my lunch box. 

“I love you and I hope you have a great day. Hoping that I see you soon so that I can tell you all about my day and I hope you feel that way too.

I know my sandwich is bomb but still tell me how it was 

Yours, Rafael” 

At the end of the note, he signed his name along with cute hearts drawn around the corner. 

Fuck I was going to cry. And weirdly, I had been crying a lot. 

My unreasonable crying session got abruptly cut by my co-worker Andy whose bi-sexual pin shone in the sunlight; his maroon cardigan swung as he moved swiftly. He dropped onto the wooden bench beside me with his lunch on his hands. 

“Hey, how was the midterm, Sofia. Did you see teardrops on the answer sheet or only smiley faces?”

“Haha, Andy. They were all fine. I made sure the questions were relatively easy.” 

Rolling his eyes, he caught note of Rafe’s handwritten letter, cooing

“Awww, you guys are so cute!!! I don’t know who is lucky in this marriage, you or the blue-eyed beast you get to call your husband?” 

My cheeks bloomed into a rosy hue as I fumbled and fumferred to give an answer, I don’t know why, Rafe and I have been married for two years and dating since I was twenty-one.

I am twenty-eight now. 

I still blush when I think about us. I guess true love never really loses its charm even after seven years. After all, he is my first love, my first everything, I guess.

But again, I was at work and I was not comfortable enough to give a coherent answer. We are at a point in our relationship where we have seen each other morph into the best, loving version of each other. Rafe watched me turn into a more confident, more vivacious soul while I saw Rafe grow into a man that knows what he wants, holds mountains under his shoulders yet loves with so much devotion that is immeasurable. We both deserve each other in that way, I guess.

Instead, I said, “I don’t know Ands. What about you, Mr Biology Teacher?”

I forgot to tell you; Andy is a biology teacher for middle school / high school students at Outer Banks Public School. While I am a more fairly new addition to the institution, Andy has been working here for nearly six years while I started this job just after I got married two years ago. He also conducts special sessions for Sex-Ed too so there’s always an embarrassing story tucked under that hideous olive-green belt.

“Oh, the usual, taught a bunch of high schoolers about periods and that whole nasty business of it.”

Huh. Periods. When did I last got mine.

Wait….wait….what….

My eyes must have looked like it was going to pop out since Andy waved his hands in front of me asking, “Are you here, Mrs. Sofia”

“Huh…what”

“You were out of it for a minute, you, okay?”

Yes and no, I may be carrying a baby right now.

“Uh…yea I am fine, just tired I guess”

This is true, I have been actually restless the past three weeks. Tossing and turning in bed at night but felt like I needed to hibernate for the rest of the morning.

“Oh ok, let me know if you need any help demolishing that chocolate chip cookie” he laughed pointing at my lunch bag.

I was not interested in that conversation at all, no matter how much I respect Andy. My mind was running miles away from this earthly plane.

As he sauntered out of the hall, I grabbed my phone, scrolling furiously to click the Calendar app. I always noted the days when I was suffering from periods and to my luck or the lack of it, I was nearly a month late.

My hands trembled due to an undiscerning emotion; I didn’t know what to feel. Happiness and a sense of unflinching rush of love surged through me. I may have a mini-Rafe or mini me.

At the same time, I remembered this news meant Rafe’s worst fears coming to life.

He never said he didn’t want kids. Contrary to my prior statement, he always was down with us having kids even when we were dating, whispering in my ear that he wants to see me with his baby in my belly as we unravelled each other in the bed.

His past never graced him with the one thing a child actually needed: his parents love. His mom leaving the world early in a “car-crash” (Rafe still doesn’t believe it, calling it as BS) while his dad holding his roots on him but never actually nourishing him with affection. Ward Cameron used Rafe for his misgiving yet making him beg for his love like the Schrodinger’s cat. I don’t speak ill of the dead but I was kinda content with the fact that Rafe got mature enough to see through his dad’s shiny vacant words of sweet-nothings to discern that Rafe was always a means to his vile ends.

Rafe used to kiss the ground his dad walked on, I still remember holding him by his arms as he scattered his dad’s ashes in the sea, mumbling “I won’t forget you” It was way early in our relationship yet I knew that I would do anything to not to see the cerulean eyed boy cry.

As years rolled by and Rafe started to go to therapy, he confessed to me that he doesn’t know how to parse through the irony that even though Ward might have a sliver of love for him, he exploited his need for affection like it meant nothing. His hands were holding my waist as we laid in bed, his head finding a permanent safe purchase in my neck as his voice trembled;

“I’m scared, Sof”

My hands were caressing his buzzcut, holding him like a vice.

“Of what, Rafe?”

He paused for a moment, planting a small yet earth shattering kiss on my nape.

“That if we have a baby, they’ll forever be cursed by having a psycho as their dad like their grandpa was”

His words hit me like lightning but I further tightened my hold, pulling out his head from his haven to face me; earning a quiet whine from him.

“You listen to me, Rafe. You won’t going to be a bad dad, mi amor”

He opened his mouth to give me a rebuttal so I just shushed him.

“No, Rafe. I know that when you love someone, you sacrifice a piece of your heart. You give it all, Rafe. Just like you gave me yours. And I know for sure that if we have kids, they will be so happy that their dad loves them like no one else”

His blue eyes were clouded by a shroud of tears, threatening to bubble over as he spoke, “But what if I fuck up, baby? What if I am not…”

“No, don’t even think about it, Rafe. I know they’ll be so loved. Beside I will be here. With you. I would also be scared too, and I know you will hold my hand when I am feeling not my best. So don’t let your demons push you away from experiencing love, baby”

His tears were pouring out now. His limbs surrounding my body, afraid to let go.

“I love you” he said in his wispy, unwavering voice, “I love you more than anything and even if I don’t know if Ill be a good father but I know I won’t stop trying since I will love not only a piece of me but also you.”

Then it was my turn to cry, plucking butterfly kisses on his lips as we dreamed of washing away our parents mistakes and rewriting new ones.

That was four years ago. He still tenses at the mention of kids even though he is the “coolest uncle” (as quoted by Valerie) to our niece and the best brother-in-law to Theo and Isabella. He goes all in whenever Val or my siblings crashes at our place for a sleepover; buying all the snacks they ask and taking them on ice cream dates on the beach whenever Isabella, my sister comes to our home. Isabella is a soft spot for Rafe; obviously Valerie is his niece and loves her endlessly but Val has two more uncles and aunts who crowd her entire time and affections and considering Rafe and Sarah’s rocky yet amicable relationship; Val doesn’t exactly come see us very often. I know Rafe may seem nonchalant about it but I know that he hopes that he can fully repair their relationship. I hope so too. Isabella, however, loves Rafe to the ends of the Earth, she met Rafe when she was four and she was completely taken aback by my then-boyfriend turned now-husband. And he too didn’t hold back with the sweets or the bear hugs or the gifts since he wanted to impress my family and also, he saw Wheezie, his other sister in my Isabella. Though she is eleven, she still comes home to have sleepovers with me and sometimes brings her friends to our home to watch new releases.

And Rafe still calls her Button.

My husband should sometimes look in the mirror and contemplate all the bad things he says about himself.

Speaking of the devil, my phone lit with a small ping

I can hear his voice in the text as I read it, “Hey bb, u want me to pick u up after 2 hrs”

My fingers were shaking as I typed, “Yup :)”

For the next two hours, I was on autopilot; my mouth spewing out words on its accord as my brain was sinking in to the fact that I may be a mom in a year.

Or maybe not. Maybe its just a false alarm and I can just go about my day as usual.

But why did a miniscule part of my heart hoped to see if there’ll be two lines on the pregnancy test.

Whenever I saw Rafe treating his niece and my siblings like they were royalty, my heart always leapt, thinking about how our baby would be loved and adored by us. I thought about a little boy with wisps of mousy blonde hair running around with blue eyes like his daddy, laughing and barrelling towards me for a hug or a sweet little girl with jet black hair being carried around by her dada on his shoulders.

Rafe’s and my heart had been entwined with each other for nearly eight years and I cherish every single moment I get to spend with him. And the fact that we both are able to create our destiny and legacy makes me feel light hearted.

As the clock ticked to 3’o clock on the huge, wooden clock on the hallway, a stampede of students rushed from their classes, elated to leave their “hell-on-Earth” schools. As a teacher, I was standing at the entrance of the main building, helping kids around and waving them goodbyes.

 And like clockwork my husband pulled up in his black SUV with Ray Bans covering his eyes, a Black Depache Mode T-shirt adorning his broad shoulders; the car thrumming as it pulled up on the tarmac. He got out of the car, his middle finger playing with the keychain, sauntering like he owned the place.

Why does my breath always stop like I am seeing him for the first time?

“Hey baby, what you doing?” he said cooly, his hands finding home in my waist. He has no chill.

“Doing my job and you are disturbing it”

He stepped back, feigning offence, “Excuse me, Mrs Cameron, I thought you wanted me to come pick you up”

I too played along, crossing my arms on my chest, “Well Mr Cameron, I did call you but I need a minute to pack and there are still kids around here so keep it PG, yea?”

“Yes mam.”

So here I was, riding along like the passenger princess I am, observing my husband deftly drive around the neighbourhood as his other hand softly caressed my thighs. Touch is very important to him, I discovered from our relationship. It grounds him and I am more than happy to be his anchor.

“So how was work, any kid threw up on you?”

I was zoning out again, staring into his eyes and contemplating if I should tell that I may be pregnant.

“Sof, you good?” he asked, his tone carrying a hint of worry.

“Yeah, I am just tired” I repeated the same answer verbatim to my husband.

I need to be sure that I am pregnant. I can’t give him false promises or false alarms.

“Oh, its ok love, I’ll cook dinner tonight. Or we’ll order up, you wanted to hit up that new Thai spot right? yea maybe we’ll order in, catch up on some TV and have a nice shower, hmm maybe that will make your headache go away?”

I was seconds close to throwing myself onto him and holding him in the middle of the road. This is what I meant when I say nobody knows Rafe Cameron better than me. He holds me to the highest degree and every second he never fails to amaze me at how good he is as a husband.

All I could do was hold my tears at bay and palm his face, fingers bookmarking every freckle of his sculpted face.

“Yea, that would be great, Rafe”

As the orange hues of the evening sky eroded into the inky midnight, I laid awake behind Rafe’s sinewed chest, his hands on my belly, where our future child may be resting. As usual, his face was buried in the nape of my neck, soft breaths trying to lull me to sleep. But I couldn’t close my eyes.

I cannot just buy a pregnancy test from a pharmacy; I mean I could but I need to be sure.

All I could think about was how would Rafe digest the news if I was really pregnant. Will he spin me around in joy or will he rub his temples and pace around in fear. I was hoping and praying the former but I know that anything can happen.

The next day, I had a game plan. As Rafe was busy getting ready for work, I typed out a quick message to the substitute teacher, Ms. Fields that I would be coming late to work today and to take care of first period and second period for me. He was strutting around in his dark blue suit, red tie with gold stripes on his hands, rushing towards me for help. As usual. As my fingers went around the collar to loop the tie, I peered upto him since hes nearly a feet taller than me and as much I love it, sometimes I feel as though I am a dwarf compared to him. My voice came in whispers as if we were surrounded by a crowd when the entire mansion was occupied by only me and Rafe. And probably our future baby.

“Hey, I am taking my car today for work, ok”

His voice boomed across the hall, his forehead furrowing, “Why?” he pouted. Carpooling to work is our favourite part of the day where for half an hour we just blast some music and talk shit about our respective work lives or other people.

“Babes, I have some papers to grade and I may need the car to go to the supply store for Halloween decorations for the school"

He huffed whining “Fineeee….but I am not in favour of this”

“You are such a baby, Rafe!”

“What, I am sorry that I want to spend more time with my extremely hot wife.”

“Hmm, flattery won’t take you anywhere, Mr Cameron”

“Well, I say no, cause you take it up to your ass…”

“RAFE CAMERON YOU FILTHY…” I gawked as I hit him square on his chest

He grabbed me by my waist guffawing, “I’m joking, I’m joking…I’m joking”

After a hearty breakfast of eggs, toast and a bucket load of strawberries, Rafe and me parted ways, he is the CEO of Cameron Developments but he is not exactly following his dad’s footsteps to a T. When I got engaged, I laid out this base rule that If I am going to get married, he needs to stop zoning out “Pogue” areas and actually venture out of the area to find new developments. So now he is not only a developer in Outer Banks but one of the top property developers in North Carolina itself.

 Harsh, I know but I am not letting Rafe be a mob-brained “Kook” like everyone in this town is. I don’t know where I exactly belong in the social hierarchy of Outer Banks. I was born Pogue but married the Kookiest of the Kooks yet me and Rafe try not to associate ourselves with that binary. That’s why we live a bit further from Kildare, I was tired of feeling suffocated by fake laughs and snake-like lives of the Kooks and Rafe was exhausted from his reputation as a “psycho” so Rafe built us a home away from those conniving wolves and bit near to the Cut but still on the suburban area. Its just a couple of old people as neighbours who are actually very kind towards Rafe and me except the occasional, “Honey, the house sounds very lonely, you guys should have kids!”

Well, Martha’s dream is about to come true I guess.

*****

Prince’s missionary hospital with all of its ten storied glory was relatively free today. The hallways which are usually crowded with patients ambling slowly with catheters and gurneys rolling screeching on the sanitized floor was mostly vacant. But as I neared reception, I saw a familiar face come around the corner.

Pope.

And he sought me out before I decided if I was planning to acknowledge or avoid him.

“Hey, Sofia, what are you doing here, you ok?”

I forgot he was a doctor here. His badge which read, “Dr. Heyward” glistened under the sterile white lights of the room as she walked towards me, sporting a small smile.

Rafe and the Pogues’ relationship would forever be tainted due to history that Rafe doesn’t want to get into but most of the time, most of Sarah’s close friends are more than cordial with me. Val studies in my school and so Sarah and John B always make time to talk to me when they come pick up from class; I never actually had a proper interaction with JJ but the rest of them wave and ask about life if we encounter each other. And Pope and his fiancée Cleo has always been friendly towards me since I frequent the hospital for charity drives.

“Hey Pope, just here for a blood checkup” I fibbed since as much I like Pope; I really want Rafe to be the first person to know.

“Oh, is anything wrong?” he looked worried as he shrugged his white coat off.

“No, no. Everything’s great. I just wanted to see if my Hb levels are up to the mark, you know”

“I understand, well how’s umm….Rafe?” he fidgeted.

Rafe is a sour subject to all of the Pogues, and in a way I understand but it was nice that they still want to build an amicable relationship with me. I am even surprised that Sarah and Rafe’s relationship seems to be normal to say the least.

“Oh, he’s doing good as usual”

“How’s Cleo?” I actually talk to Cleo quite a lot since she’s also doing her online masters degree in UCLA so its nice to talk to her about academic stuff whenever I see her around.

“Oh, she’s rocking college and life, of course she’s doing more than great” he spoke, a warm smile gracing his lips.

“Well, I’ll let you do your check up I guess. Holla if you need any help.” He offered as he started to walk the other direction towards the lift.

“Thank you, and say hi to Cleo for me”

“WILL DO” his voice boomed as he disappeared from my eyeline.

I let out a small WHEW as I speed walked to the gynaecologists’ room. A tall woman with a blonde bob opened the door, heels clicking as she led me inside.

“Hi, Mrs Sofia….?” she said as was checking the form

“Cameron”

“Oh, ok, I am Dr Maria Adams, so you want to take a blood test to check for pregnancy?”

“Yea, I wanted to be sure.”

“That’s actually a very good decision. Sometimes, pregnancy tests can provide false positive results so I totally get it. So, when did you get your last period?”

“Last month, on 28th”

“Hmm got it. Do you feel tired”

“A lot, more tired than I have ever been”

“Do you feel some sort of tenderness on your breasts”

“I….” my mind raced back to a week ago when Rafe was grabbing my chest as we had sex and I remember him whimpering, “God your tits feel so good”

I cleared my throat, hoping that my cheeks don’t show my lewd daydreaming, I whispered “Yea”

“Ok, just give me a minute, let me take a blood sample and also an urine sample to make sure that you are really pregnant.”

I nodded, my mind coming around to the fact that life felt very real at this moment and that it may change forever today.

God, I really wish Rafe was here with me, encasing my hands with his and leaning onto his shoulder as I always do whenever life feels too taxing to live.

She came back with a plastic cup, two plastic test tubes, a needle and an unknown contraption with a belt. Maria saw through my apprehension and smiled, “Oh this is nothing, its only here if I can’t find a vein. I know everything seems very daunting but this is very very normal for all women when they find out they may be pregnant. This is not going to hurt at all. You’ll be fine ok” she comforted me; eyes softening and her hands gently placing the syringe onto my hands.

As she slowly injected the syringe onto my veins, I looked around the hospital room, pink and blue coloured posters about pregnancy, gestational diabetes, cute baby pictures and the development of a baby was strewn all around the rooms with some posters enlisting emergency numbers. Along with the prick, I felt overwhelmed, feeling slightly dizzy.

Thankfully, she retracted the needle, collecting the crimson red substance in two test tubes as she asked me to pee on a cup in the bathroom inside. After an embarrassing five minutes of peeing in a cup and actually giving it to the doctor, I washed my hands and fidgeted around the metal bench, hoping to get the results as soon as possible.

She came back with her writing pad on her hands saying, “so we’ll get the results by tonight or this evening so I’ll send the results to your phone. You okay with that?”

A whole day. Ugh. That’s why everyone uses the pregnancy tests from the drugstore. I don’t think I can hold out that long but for the sake of my sanity I just nodded and left, walking slowly towards my car.

With a storm brewing in my heart, I really didn’t want to go to work but I can’t just take a sick day when I may need those for future days when I would be actually sick. Reluctantly I dragged myself to work.

Surprisingly the day zoomed by pretty fast, and it was four in the afternoon. I was rearranging the benches as the principal when I heard a loud squeal coming from the hallway. Just as I was going to turn around, I felt a tiny pair of hands encircling my waist followed by an adorable giggle and sound of small bells chiming.

I knew who it was.

“AUNTIE SOFIAAA”

As I turned around, I found myself face to face with Valerie Routledge, my niece-in-law. She was beaming with a tooth missing in her smile; bracelets with colourful charms adorning her wrists and her blonde hair like her mom, sporting butterfly clips. She twirled with glee showing her off leaf green pinoform dress. I kneeled to her height, grabbing her for a bear hug.  

“Oh, my sweetness, how are you, mi amor!!! Had fun in class today?”

“OH, AUNT SOF, I HAD SOO MUCH FUN. I PAINTED A PICTURE OF A HOUSE WITH DAD, MOM AND THE BEACH, UH AND I PLAYED FOOTBALL WITH AMY AND NATHAN” she rushed in one breath to say all her adventures.

“That sounds so lovely, Val. Where are your parents, baby? Your classes must have gotten over an hour ago, if I am not wrong” I cajoled, pinching her button nose.

“We are here, Sof” I heard a booming voice calling me out. It was John B and Sarah standing in front of the classroom.

“Hey! Whats up? How’s the shop?” I went up to them, Valerie on my hips as she was swinging her hands in the air.

“Oh, you know its fishing season, so business is smooth. A little birdie here told me that you weren’t here in the morning so we just wanted to see how are you”

Shit. Shit.

“Oh I was just tired so I came late from home.” Dios Mio, the amount of lies I had to tell today…I truly am on a roll.

It was Friday so I asked them what their weekend plans was and conversation flowed smoothly from there. We were now sitting on the benches with Val keeping herself busy by passionately colouring her newest creation. I was interrupted by my phone ringing, knowing that it would probably be my husband, waiting impatiently in our home.

And when I unlocked my phone, it was Rafe who was calling.

“Hey Sof, its nearly five o’ clock, do you need me to come pick you up. Or you’re busy with work?”

“No, I’m here with your sister, John B and Val” as soon as I said it, Val squealed again and came running towards me screaming, “IS IT UNCLE RAFEY, I WANNA TALK TO HIM, PLEASE SOF!!!”

Not to pop her bubble, I gave my phone and Rafe recognized it immediately, cooing “Hey Valeria, you doing good?”

Though she doesn’t meet Rafe as much as she probably should, she loves her uncle endlessly. They do talk to each other on the phone once in every two weeks because she “loves all her uncles equally” She started going on a spiel about every minute detail of her day and Rafe was intently listening through the phone. As her voice went on and on for about five minutes, Sarah stopped her little rant by softly saying, “Baby we gotta go, your aunt seems tired. She also needs to go home and talk to uncle Rafey, doesn’t she?”

“It’s fine, Sarah” It is true, I am tired and my phone weighs a ton of bricks with my message from the hospital as I heard it ping ten minutes ago.

“Oh, ok. Lemme say bye to him”

As that took two minutes more, Val, Sarah and John B took off, giving me my phone with Rafe on the line.

“Hey, you sure that you don’t want me to come pick you up?”

“It’s fine, I’ll be there in ten”

My consciousness felt shaky, god I need to go home. As I cut the call, I immediately went to my Messages and saw the message from the hospital with a pdf file attached to it. My hands hastily clicked the document scrolling through the unnecessary details to see the verdict.

It wrote

Patient No: 549202

Name: Sofia Cameron

Status: Pregnant

Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit.

*******

“And you know I want to construct the school there but obviously the government says the land was actually written off for this rich guy who lives in…Tennesse…of all places…”

I was mindlessly nodding to everything my husband was saying as my hands went automatic mode in stirring the curry for dinner. He was perched on the counter near me, talking about his day while I was racking my brain and heart on how to let him know that we are going to have a baby.

I am going to have a baby. Me and Rafe are going to be parents.

I turned towards Rafe, who was looking godly as usual with his knitted blue shirt and sweatpants, his hands gesticulating as he spoke. Aquamarine eyes pouring all of its love onto me as he gently held me by the waist now. God, I don’t know what he’s going to say.

He clocked my wavering stance and looked at me again,

“Sof, are you sure that you’re ok? You’re pretty out of it today, baby.”

I don’t what to feel; elated or terrified. I feel like throwing up and my breasts really hurt.

Instead, I went with the classic, “Yup, just tired from work.”

“If you get really tired like this every day, I’ll take you to the doc, you know. See what’s bothering you?”

I did go to the doctor, well.

“We’ll wait for a week to see, Rafe”

“Ok then. But I am really worried, Sof” he said as he was kissing my neck hands slowly rocking my body along with his.

I switched off the stove, turning my body towards him, my hands finding its natural home on the back of his buzzcut. He was sporting a mullet three months ago but he got tired of grooming his hair in the summer and has again started shaving his hair into a buzzcut. Times like this, I feel like I am reliving my early twenties when I see his buzzcut, my heart naïve yet adamant of the fact that the man in front of me would hold my heart with his and never let go. And inspite of all of the trials our relationship we went through, we ended up gripping onto each other as the waves went harder and gladly, we experienced the light shining into our lives. Together.

And I know that we’ll be alright.

I stood on my tiptoes, plucking a kiss from his lips and as usual, my husband took it as a cue to bend down to my level; grabbed me by the flesh of my thighs and one kiss led to a constellation of stolen kisses on my face and whispers of love. He carried me across the room to the sofa like a feather, soft and careful. And the thought of facing the real life with very real confessions left my thinking for a little while, my heart overflowing with only adoration and devotion for the man laying and loving on top of my body.

As midnight struck again and the ink blue sky was holding all of the stars and letting planes fly by its stratosphere I was left to plan again for the second time, pondering about a cute plan to reveal my pregnancy to Rafe.

My husband was in between worlds, reality and dreams as I heard him grunt and softly whistle in his sleep. I turned around to see him, lashes fluttering on his eyelids; looking serene. I wonder whose eyes our baby will have? I badly hope its Rafe’s but I will love our bundle of joy no matter how they look or who they will be.

I gave a gentle kiss to his forehead, hoping that sleep will also hold its dreamy hands to make me fall asleep too.

****

I was underestimating how much cards there are in a single supermarket for a pregnancy reveal. And how much baby clothes one single store has.

My hands were on my hips as I was closely rifling through the gift aisle of a novelty shop. I wanted to buy a cute card to gift Rafe when I break the news to him along with a cute onesie. I know it’s a very anticlimactic and probably overused method of a pregnancy reveal but I am enthralled yet overwhelmed to tell him that we’re pregnant. I was also planning on baking cupcakes to celebrate or eat it in misery (depending upon Rafe’s reaction) but then my feet started killing me and I planned just to buy some cupcakes from the bakery and put icing on it myself.

Huh, pregnancy does cost a lot of money and time. But that’s just everything in life I guess.

Then my eyes wandered around other gifts where there were a lot of photo frames and stuff. That sparked an idea in me.

Bingo.

All I need to do is go to the hospital right now.

And of course, the bakery.

*****

One thing about Rafe Cameron is that he intently listens and follows to everything that I say. And I deeply love him for it.

And so when I told him that I wanted to go to the beach when he came back from work at three pm, he just said, “Lemme pack sunscreen and a blanket” I felt giddiness in my bones.

And so here we are, nearing the moment that will change our lives, for better or worse. I was admiring my husband as we walked to our special spot in the beach where we first kissed. We always come here once or twice a month, just to sit and be in awe of the waves crashing onto the shore, the wide blue ocean freezing time, washing away all our worries and pains atleast for some minute. I wanted to create a perfect moment when I told him I was pregnant but I realised that every place and moment that I spend with him is a perfect place and perfect time. The sun was kissing the horizon leaving space for purple skies and cotton candy tufts of clouds.

As we sat down, with me sitting between his legs and his chin perched on my head, I slowly opened my beach bag to give him the meticulously wrapped gift.

“Rafe?”

He was gazing at the ocean as he hummed a response, “Yeah”

I got out of his hold as I faced to look at him “I have something to tell you.”

Now all of his attention was on me.

“What happened, Sof?”

I slowly put the wrapped gift onto his hands. “Open it”

He looked skeptical yet so adorable, his rosy lips forming a smile, “Baby, its not my birthday today” as he started to unravel the gift deftly, taking off the tapes one by one; carefully noting that I took time to wrap it.

“Just….open it.”

“Yea, yea. You see I am doing it”

As he opened the gift box, his eyesight went first to the photo album, he shot a undecipherable look, quietly laughing, “You’re crazy, Sof”

He opened the album, and I went near him to gauge his reaction. A grin adorned his lips as he saw photos of me and him in recent times, on vacations, photos of when we were dating, moments frozen in time of us doing funny faces, silly laughs, and untarnished love. He was smiling wide when looking into our wedding photos, me being carried around by his arms and our bodies floating on the dancefloor.

“I love it, Sofia. I am going to probably frame these pics. Jesus, I forgot these existed.

“Go to the last page, Rafe” I was now holding my heart in my hands, my eyes close to tearing up.

He saw my emotional disposition and flipped onto the last pages. And there it was.

On the left side, there were two photos, baby photos of me and him, Rafe sporting an cheek-pinching aww-moment smile while I was pointing my fingers to my cousin brother. Then he saw the other side.

There was a note. It read, “In next nine months, there’ll be a photo of me, Daddy!”

He was stunned for a moment; mouth agape and his eyes followed the writing on the note multiple times to make sure what he read was true. Slowly, he looked at me. His voice was wobbling as he asked me, “Sofia…are you…?”

I was full on bawling now, “Yeah…I am pregnant.”

“We’re….having…a baby?”

“Yup.”

“I…” he was kneeling in front of me now, cradling my head in his hands like he’s holding his entire world as his other hand slowly went up to my belly, delicately caressing it.

“I am also terrified as fuck and its alright if you are too but I am also so happy. I know that you’re sca..”

“What if I ruin our baby’s life, Sof” this was his first response.

He was trembling now, and I didn’t know if it was from affection or fear.

“You won’t. I swear, you will be the best dad, baby.” The waves felt like background music now.

“You don’t know how fucking happy I am, Sofia but I’m…baby…what I fuck up, and our kid turns out to be like me. I know that if our baby is like you, I will be the luckiest mother fucker on Earth but there is a high chance that he or she will turn out like me and then…”

I was both tired and sad that he will always see himself through his worst parts while my vision will always view his bad parts or what used to be his bad parts just as the stitches holding his golden, brazen and passionate parts of his soul. So I cut his rambling with a swift kiss. Our lips melded into each other as our hands tightly manoeuvring each other; silently promising not to let each other go.

I slowly and sombrely drifted away from his lips as I said, “First of all, mistakes will happen, Rafe but don’t tell me that our baby being like you is a bad thing when I know that then they will grown to be the most loving, affectionate person ever. And I am here, I am not going anywhere. Don’t you think that I am also afraid that I may also make mistakes. Yes, but I know that our baby will be alright because we will be there for them no matter what happens.”

He looked at me like I hung the stars for him, he eyes looked enamoured as he spoke, “God, I love you so much and no matter what happens, I know that our baby is a part of you and I swear to God, I will love it more than my life, Sof”

“See, you are more than being a good dad, and they haven’t even come out of me yet.” I was laughing, happy tears covering my eyeline.

We stared into each other eyes, trying to come around the fact that we are on the cusp of the grandest part of our lives. All I knew that as long as we had each other, we can quell each other’s storms of our hearts and paint the darkest corners of our minds with technicolour.

As we were giggling, high on life and from the sugar from the choclate cupcakes. we both knew.

Life was going to be more beautiful. And we were ready for it with open arms. 

Yea, so that’s how I knew that we were pregnant.

[beiasluv]

heyyy so i was thinking what would happen if neteyam went to jake for advice on how to ask the reader out, i just thought it'll be a cute moment :) you don't have to write it if u don't want to, completely up to u 💓

have a lovely day gorgeous 🫶

a father’s advice? neteyam x reader

a/n: that’s actually so cute / ye grammar mistake cuz I’m too potato / hope you enjoy, gorgeous gorgeous girl 🤍

masterlist

saying who’s got the most rizz in the family is hard, their blood is strong. but one thing neteyam can’t deny, is that his father is the original rizz

how did he managed to pulled off neytiri? he don’t fucking know. the daughter of the chief while he is a ‘dreamwalker’ to them? he got them rizz

neteyam, being the golden child he is, is determined to follow his father’s footsteps.

and who else could he ask advice from? lo’ak? nope, that boy would never miss a chance to make fun of him, if he would go for his assistant. plus, he got rizzed up by tsireya, he down real bad.

kiri? nah, she has her own world and neteyam respects that. letting her be her free-spirited self would be the best option.

spider 👁️👁️ what does that boy know? does he even have a girlfriend? *ahem* i guess we’ll never know. he got the lowest rizz game in the family, with all due respect from neteyam.

tukkk, SHE IS A MINOR AND A CHILD.

neytiri? i guess? bet she would be more of a pain in the ahh if he would go to her for advice. being a mom she is, she would definitely judge neteyam’s crush and all of his dream would crash down. no, we don’t want that.

jake, it is.

but how? how to make it the least awkward to approach his dad about stuff like this?

he tried to give his dad signals and signs everyday but he doesn’t seem to pick them up. he even started to doubt if his dad is the real player, cuz them boy is clueless😭

“dad?”

“yes?” jake replied with his back facing neteyam.

“how do you er…like send a sign?”

“neteyam, i thought we went over this already,” he sighed. “press your collar when speaking, and say ‘over’ when you are done talking”

“oh!” he scratched his neck. “okay, sorry, dad.”

neteyam was hopeless 😭 but to get a girl, he can’t just give up easily

he tried again, now, with a little help from his sister

“dad,” he walked quietly into the marui where his dad is resting.

“what?” he grumbled.

“erm…last time…when…” his words fumbled around each other, while kiri came into the marui.

“when what? get to the point,” he shifted the blanket off his chest and sat up.

“dad, he is asking you how to ask a girl out,” she said nonchalantly as she looked through the drawer. “you’re welcome, bro,” with a swift of her tail, she was out the door.

“oh, well,” jake chuckled loudly. “have i heard correctly?”

“well, yea..yes.”

“c’mere, son,” he patted the mattress. “let me show you.”

jake would be so proud. he would laugh uncontrollably for like 10 minutes cause neteyam got him worried there.

but his son ask, he will reveal

“now, welcome to “the way of rizz 101” class with jake sully,” he joking said. “there are many ways to ask a girl out, alright, but there is a main pattern you must look out for.”

“number 1: set the mood. it is the most important, alright?” he ruffled neteyam’s locks. “you could never go wrong with setting the mood, look for spots, lighting, and the feels.” “guess where we got down, the tree of souls, yeah, magic, am i righ-“

“ew dad, please.”

“okay, listen to the experts, son,” he laughed. “number 2: make it personal, PER-SO-NAL”

“yes, i understand, I’m not dumb”

“no, son, it’s really important. don’t reuse your letters, never get her the same gift. DO NOT never ever use the same pick up line. AND definitely do not use the same pattern for every girl.” (amen to deja-vu from olivia rodrigo, guys)

“number 3: be yourself,” he patted his son back. “don’t be afraid, if she doesn’t accept your offer, don’t let it consume you.”

“how can i do that?” he retorted.

“what is she like?”

“she is the only girl i have ever laid my eyes on and they were stuck! can’t imagine even just one other girl that i have felt the same feelings i am feeling right now.”

“that’s the spirit, atta boy,” he chuckled. “then, i pray for eywa that this is the way.” “eywa will show you the way if she is the one for you,” he smiled softly.

“and a honorable mention, do not ever make a girl cry over your stupid mistakes, alright?”

“how would i know?”

“you would feel it, respect her, respect her as a goddess, hell yeah, adore her, like eywa,” he added. “she is gentle but deadly, the spirit of life. always ask for consent, always. when you are mated for life, you both become equal.”

“let her guide you, and let you guide her,” he held his palms together as one. “now, how to rizz a girl up is not useful without your effort,” he patted his son’s head and pushed him up.

“go get the girl, atta boy!”

today is a great day to go touch grass 😳 i mean- take care of yourself 🤍

@rosaryos / @bumblinbumblvee / @loudcolorwolfgarden / @nyotamalfoy / @fangirl-2610 / @astablacksword / @lokisblueskin

[yourmomni]

A/n: Hey yall🤠so I finished the request the writers block and sesamal depression had me in a choke hold but I'm back. I only did the hyung line so bear with me love you

Sitting On Their Lap

Heeseung

Heesung immediately feels offended at how you basically call him weak

Well you only said no to sitting on his lap but it's the same thing

" do you not love me anymore is that what it is"

Hes pouty for the rest of the day until he finally gets a chance to grabbed you buy surprise and put.you on his lap

" HEESEUNG STOP IM GOING TO HURT YOU"

Goes in one ear and out the other

He's so proud of himself that he finally got his beautiful girl to sit on his lap

And when you finally stop thrashing around d he tells you how much he loves you and wishes you wouldn't feel Insecure about things such as your weigh

" I'll love you no matter what, we're in this together baby"

But you did scold him for giving you a heart attack which he apologized for in neck kisses

NOW your always getting pulled onto his lap

Doesn't matter when or where

While he's on the phone LAP

watching TV LAP

eating dinner LAP

He's addicted to your body and he'll always try to find a way to be close to you

JAY

Similar to hessueng Jay has been trying for weeks to get you to sit on his lap but nothing has worked

He's even has going as far as sliding to wherever your going to sit so you can land on his thigh but your always fast at catching yourself

He's over it

" Babe come on just one time "

You shake you head no repeating what you always say when he ask

" I'm not light enough for us to be able to do that"

It was pissing him off

But he thought of a plan

Jake was having a cookout at his house and you 2 were sitting outside well Jay was you were standing beside him.

" babe come sit down it's hot and you've been standing for almost an hour

Jay was smirking to himself looking around d at all of the lawn chairs being occupied by guest

You groaned " theirs no more seats."

Of Course Jay knew that

" Well their is one more seat actually"

He smiles at you glancing at his thighs

You bit the inside of your cheek

You were really tired of standing, you knew what he was doing

But you took the bait anyway

"Fine but don't say I didn't warn you earlier."

He smiled brightly as you sat down on his lap

He rubbed your side thanking you for finally trusting him

Jay was silent the whole time you were sitting down and you began to get nervous.

" Am i hurting you? I'll move if I am."

Jay shook his head quickly

" No your not hurting me baby I can stay like this forever" He kissed your cheek

Sunghoon

Sunghoon is more understanding when it comes to you not wanting to sit on his lap

He doesn't bug you or force you but that being said it doesn't mean he doesn't want you to sit oh his lap

He's dreamed about it since you guys started dating

You being so close and him holding you tight gently rubbing your thigh

But he's too scared to ask

He know how your super sensitive when it comes to your image about your body but sung hoon could care less on what you look like

He's playing with the hole in his jeans as he's watching you talk to your friends. He so badly wants to call you over just so he can be around you but doesn't want to seem needy or interrupt you

His heart basically jumps out of his chest when he sees you wave by and speed walk to him. He smiles brightly at you asking if you were okay and you nod, placing yourself on his lap. Sungoon goes stiff and doesn't know how to react but quickly regroups and pulls you close. He doesn't know you did it because your “friend” was talking about how handsome he was. But hey atlesst he got what he wanted in the end.

Jake

Now jake loves physical contact

He loves the kiss and the hugs

And lets not forget how much he loves it when you hold hands

You both enjoy it

So why the fuck will you not sit on his lap

Hes tried on multiple occasion but nada

You either run away from him or ignore when he ask

Jake has to figure out what's going on

You walked into your house to see your boyfriend sitting in a chair facing the door with his legs spread and his hands touching each other. “ when did you get here.” you giggle at his stance but Jake is stone faced. “ don't worry about that, where have you been.” you sit the grocery bags down and walk over to him” i went to the store is that a crime detective sim” you turn the lamp off he has shining on you and kiss his cheek. “ i was thinking of making dinner and calling you over but it seems like you're already here.” you remove your coat laying it on the back of the couch. Jake stood up “ why won't you sit on my lap.” you jumped at the question catching you off guard. “ w-what.” you were now facing him. “ I noticed you always ignore me when I ask you or you just brush it off so what is it? Do you not feel comfortable enough with me to do that?” you bit the inside of your cheek trying to figure out what you were going to say. “ Its not you jake?” he sighed “ oh thank god “ he fell back into the chair. “ its me.” he raised his eyebrow. “What about you? '' you rolled your eyes. “ jake come on look at me, im not the lightest person in the world.” it took jake a minute to understand what you meant by that. “ Baby I don't care about that you know I don't care.” You crossed your arms “ but I do and I don't want to make you uncomfortable.” Jake rolled his eyes pulling you on his lap causing you to yelp. You tried to get up but he wouldn't budge.

After that you started to become more compatible to sit on his lap

And jake made you sit on his lap everywhere

Hanging out with the boys

While your watching a movie on the couch

Even during dinner sometimes

[fandomsoda]

So… we’ve come this far, huh?

Today is officially the one year anniversary of my time on Tumblr, and the one year anniversary of my friendship with the lovely person who is @/dinosaurzzz (the slug cat on the right is its sona!).

It is honestly incomprehensible to me that it has been a full year since I got on this site and honestly it has completely changed my life. I have grown more as a person in this year than I believe I ever have in my whole prior life combined. I have found a community where I am loved, where I am safe, and where I am given the space to learn and grow from my mistakes, and that is completely fucking invaluable to me. And I will forever thank Dino for being the final thing to push me to finally get on this site that I already figured would be perfect for me. It has been such a wild ride, and even if Tumblr has muffled the reach of my posts at the moment, I am going to scream this one from the rooftops, and try to show appreciation for everyone who has helped me along this journey.

First of all shout out to my incredible partner @wishtale-blogs, she is the love and light of my life and she truly understands me and has my back. I never, ever thought that I would meet someone who both gets me completely and contrasts me perfectly and having her in my life is something I would never trade absolutely anything for. When you’re young it seems like destiny for partnerships to fall apart simply by nature of it being so early in life, but I genuinely feel as if this is unshakable, and I’m just.. so happy to have her.

And with that I’d next like to shout out our adoptive sons, @karineverse and @the-selfmade-gods. Both of you are absolute angels, lights of my life and people that I would protect with my life. Thank you so much for being here for me and being here for all of your friends and staying strong through all you’ve been through. I’m proud of you, truly I am so proud of you and I love you as if you were my own flesh and blood.

Now, I am going to list out every single person I can think of whom I consider a friend. There will not be elaboration here as this post will be long enough as-is, but just know that I could write a blurb for each of you for why I adore you so much, some of you a whole essay. If your name is not here and you consider us friends, do not hesitate to message or ask me about it, I never want to leave people out and I know how anxiety-inducing it can be to not wind up on one of these lists with someone you care about. That being said, here are the names of all of my amazing friends, in no particular order:

@twinklesporkle, @justanidiotartist, @nyxus-nyx, @jupiter-nwn, @rib-rabbitmask, @still-got-no-idea, @liliallowed, @ashburntcat, @ponnedapple, @person-of-many-names, @itzcherrybonbon, @spamsbylee, @nevil-gonslek, @duckielikeserror, @psycho-chair, @letsatomicbanana, @starmonsterrr, @midnightstarshadow, @colorfulpaintspills, @kenopsia-ksp, @autisticseapanda, @hiro-doodlez, @cherrio-krispz, @emerald-onion, @the-save-star-anomaly, @everydaygremlin, @dreamsb0u, @skylerfurmaniac, @meimeikyu, @silly-inksans-stuff, @sketchingstars03, @shenanogram, @sargentvenipede

And with these friends, I’d also like to take a moment to thank followers of mine who I’ve never known super personally but still value immensely. I don’t truly know you guys, but you seem amazing, thank you so much for being here.

@hex0code, @cherrifruiti, @gloomywoomymoon, @atherflame-theconcubus, @neonordream, @finleyforevermore, @epicnightm, @youracecard, @pearbranch14823, @palisadewasp @wolvesbaneandbuttercups, @crunchontoast, @bloomyspring

Thank all of you so, so much. There would probably be more names but there is a mention limit of 50, so I had to cut some down. Either way, thank you all a million, you all mean so much to me and I think this day is truly going to be the start of a new beginning.

And to all the people who would have been here, the friends who should have been here but aren’t…

if it’s simply because we haven’t talked in a while, I hope you’re alright and I miss you.

but if it’s because you’ve harmed me, I still hope you’re alright and growing as a person. I’m sorry we didn’t work out and I promise I miss the you that I knew. I wish that things had happened differently, and even though you’re likely not seeing this I hope today can be the start of new beginnings for you too. Thanks for the impacts that you’ve left on me, even if those are scars. You guys have also helped make me into who I am, and without hardship it would be hard for me to learn.

Here’s to a new day, and any more lovely years to come.

[distinguishedwitchparadise]

Main Six Incorrect Generated Quotes

Gov, rubbing their temples: I am not proud of what I am about to say, but someone get me a cigarrette.

Texas: But Gov, we don't smoke.

Gov: Cut the crap, Texas. I'm not an idiot. I know that one in five people smoke.

Gov: *points at california * One! *points at New York * Two! *points at louisiana* Three! *points at Florida* Four! *points at Texas* Five!

Gov: Now, I am going to close my eyes, and when I open them, there better be a cigarrette between these two fingers!

Florida: *puts a cigarrette in Gov's hand*

Gov: Thank you. ...Light?

The Squad: *all simultaneously pull out lighters*

Gov: I CAN'T DO IT!

New York , laughing: I CAN'T EITHER!

Gov: I CANT FUCKING DO IT ANYMORE

louisiana: WELL I'LL TELL YOU WHAT, YOU CAN EITHER GIVE UP NOW, OR YOU CAN FIGURE IT OUT. BECAUSE WE CERTAINLY CAN'T DO IT WITHOUT YOU, AND WE KNOW YOU CAN'T DO IT WITHOUT US.

Gov:

Gov: I appreciate it,

Gov: BUT LOOK WHAT WE'RE DEALING WITH-

california: Gov-

Gov: YOU GOTTA DRAW THE LINE SOMEWHERE!

Texas: Gov we gotta-

Gov: YOU GOTTA DRAW A FUCKING LINE IN THE SAND.YOU GOTTA MAKE A STATEMENT.

Gov: YOU GOTTA LOOK INSIDE YOURSELF AND SAY 'What am I willing to put up with today?'

Gov, motioning to Florida : NOT FUCKING THIS

*Everyone is standing around the broken coffee maker*

Gov: So.Who broke it? I'm not mad, I just wanna know.

Everyone:

california : ...I did.I broke it.

Gov: No.No you didn't. louisiana?

louisiana: Don't look at me. Look at Texas.

Texas: What ? !I didn't break it.

louisiana: Huh, that's weird. How'd you even know it was broken?

Texas: Because it's sitting right in front of us and it's broken.

louisiana: Suspicious.

Texas: No, it's not!

Florida : If it matters, probably not, but California was the last one to use it.

California: Liar! I don't even drink that crap!

Florida : Oh really? Then what were you doing by the coffee cart earlier?

California: I use the wooden stirrers to push back my cuticles.Everyone knows that, Florida !

New York : Okay let's not fight. I broke it. Let me pay for it, Gov.

Gov: No! Who broke it!?

Everyone:

california : Gov...louisiana's been awfully quiet.

louisiana: REALLY?!

*Everyone starts arguing*

Gov, being interviewed: I broke it.I burned my hand so I punched it.

Gov: I predict 10 minutes from now they'll be at each other's throats with warpaint on their faces and a pig head on a stick.

Gov:

Gov: Good. It was getting a little chummy around here.

*Squad reactions to being told 'I love you'*

Louisiana: Thanks fam!

Gov: Oh no.

Texas: *cries* I love you too.

New York: Sounds fake, but okay.

california: *A flustered mess*

New York : Can I get a refund?

Gov: Croissants: dropped

New York : Road: works ahead

louisiana: BBQ sauce: on my titties

Florida: Shavacado: fre

Texas: Miss Keisha: fuckin dead

california :

california , grumpy: I didn't understand a single word of that and I hate every single one of you.

Gov: Just be yourself.

california :Really ? Gov, I have one day to win over New York's parents.

california : How long did it take for you guys to like me?

louisiana: Couple of weeks.

Florida : Six months.

Texas: Jury's still out.

California : See Gov? 'Just be yourself,' what kind of garbage advice is that?!

Gov: You know, when Texas comes over, Florida can get a little…

New York : Psycho?

louisiana: Scary?

california : Drunk?

Gov: All three.

Gov: *Posts a super low-quality image to the group chat*

New York : If I had a dollar for every pixel in this image, I'd have 15 cents

Gov: If I had a dollar for every ounce of rage I felt in my body after I read this text, I would have enough money to buy a cannon to fire at you

california: Actually I did the math, New York would have $225, not $0.15.

New York : Fam I'm right here....

Florida: If I had a dollar I would buy a can of soda :)

Gov: while you're there could you buy me an apply juice please?

Florida: Sorry I only have a dollar

Gov: :(

california: Hey I just realized my friend is right, New York would have $22, 500 because it's a dollar for every pixel, not a cent

Florida: If I had $22, 500 I would buy a can of soda and an apply juice

louisiana: You can buy anything you want with $22, 500

Texas: Yeah and they want soda and apply juice

louisiana: Apply juice to what

california : Directly to the forehead

Gov: Great chat everyone

[katyspersonal]

Marika & Messmer are fascists but not the hornsent who chop people to small pieces and put them inside jars to achieve divinity because they believe they're "chosen" people and therefore superior to other races? Have you considered the possibility that sometimes both sides of a war can suck? This is why frenzied flame is the way🙏

Anon, I am going to scold you before I get to the topic because "have you considered [thing]" here should be reserved for a problem when someone is ignorant and in a bad, poor-taste way! Which I was not because obviously I "considered" this! You are referring to a silly post of me liveblogging how I got to Messmer, and so of course I addressed Messmer! I should not add long disclaimer about every other lore-relevant thing when I make a basically liveblog-ish remark to "demonstrate" that I do not let other culprits in the story "get away" either! 😣 For example recently I've been focusing on Fire Knights to express my hatred for religious purism, but later in another post about story of Abyssal Woods I've instead focused my vitriol on Hornsent Inquisitors! There is its own post and time for everything!

Okay back to the LORE with light heart now!! This is true of course that both sides are atrocious; the Hornsent basically pulled a mad cult crusade on the shamans, and very ironically long time after their folks were victims of also a religion-driven crusade! This is basically playing extermination ping-pong for generations and regardless of who "started it", none of the innocent people (children, those who disagree and simply belong to [race], distant descendants that did not DO anything etc) deserved to be exterminated by association.

To get more elaborate, one has to take into consideration just how long the conflict has been going on for, and everything else Marika has done besides the Crusade. The people being killed by Messmer's army are most likely generations apart from the people who hurt Marika's! I've mentioned that earlier where I questioned how Grandam and Hornsent (NPC) seem to not even know why Marika/Messmer went with war at them at ALL. Like, both are/were barbaric in their own way, but there's clearly a side that has suffered enough now. Like, this was such a disgusting conflict that even Marika, who was the one who had it ordered in the first place, felt the need to distance herself from it because it WAS the battle without glory or honor. There were the Hornsent, likely a cult or something, who murdered and mutilated the Shamans back in their time, but Marika was the one who started the war and kept it going even after it was clear that the Hornsent had lost, and ruined the lives of many people that weren't even part of the war in resistance like the Hornsent NPC! (One more nitpick about it is that her/Messmer's war was that of exterminating of all who have no Grace, as opposed to some insane idea on how to force them to be reborn to "join" her type of people hfhhhbhf)

Correct me here if I am wrong, but so far we can't know if ALL Hornsent accepted the practices of Bonny Village and their higher religious institution. The Greater Potentate Cookbooks that we find relating to hefty pots describe the author as having been "haunted by the grotesque practice of his village of birth". This guy didn't sound like he was very proud of what his people were doing, and it's coming from someone who was raised there! There's likely a lot of other Hornsent who found the practice just as disgusting, especially amongst those that didn't do it themselves, but we don't know that because most of them are dead and the ones who remain are understandably upset and distrustful of "our" kind!

🤔 It is also because of this why it's more reasonable to call the two leading figures of a cleansing war fascists than an entire race, because we can't just assume that ALL Hornsent are fascists just because their religious order and justice system is fucked up. We just don't have a key leader figure to redirect such sentiments towards, unlike with the Golden Order! Basically confirmed fascists are Marika, Messmer + Fire Knights + Black Knights + troops, various warriors and perfumers and what not who agreed to participate @ the Hornsent who are doing the potting, the Hornsent who did slaughter Marika's village, and remaining corrupt clerics leaders of the religion!

(On a side note, Frenzied Flame is definitely the answer but y'all shouldn't tell Melina on me hfjjchjgdh)

________

UPDATE 1 from July 4th that I wanted to add in the OG post instead:

I have nothing to add here, all of these are rather fair points! I am a little late with adding these screenshots but you've probably seen some more speculation on the Hornsent Inquisitors these couple of days by me and @val-of-the-north in my blog! Here if you missed these: ( x ) ( x ) The gist of it is that seems like Inquisitors are hunting their fellow Hornsent as heretics for serving the "impure" nobles, but regardless of whether it happened before Marika's mentioned "betrayal" or after, it is STILL horrible to harm people for association with those that didn't even do anything wrong :^)

Still applies that calling the whole race fascist doesn't work (heck, the Hornsent who choose to stand with Midra and Nanaya are confirmation of strong exceptions!), but the sentiment is certainly very strongly rooted culturally.

Sigh.. I am pretty sure there are people somewhere in the fandom that would fall into "hornsent deserved it" pit over this, too. Like "hey, even currently Hornsent culture is a rich soil for Shaman Villages 2.0 and 3.0 and 4.0 and so on to happen, so why not preventively exterminate an inherently dangerous culture?" (..if anyone here really thinks along these lines, please know that this is a dangerous line of thinking and you'll get ideologically groomed into excusing genocides before you know if you don't question what you're implying here) What they needed was more communication with other cultures and adopting more tolerant and humane principles. Seeing that various horn-ness species are just like them rather than sitting in the "we divine they filth" bubble if it is THAT bad. Maybe Marika even HAD the power to provide such change and bridge the gap while she was still a trusted figure to them during her "infiltration", and yet instead of putting and end to terrible traditions with careful planning and diplomacy, she chose the path of revenge..

Genuinely a depressing point to think about. And yes, absolutely doesn't do her a honor to choose ruin and hate.

________

UPDATE 2 from July 11th:

I also completely forgot to back it up that the fellow Hornsent were also facing execution through being stuffed in jars!

Yeah nah, definitely their people in power were so dangerous that should someone protest against the murder of Shamans and alike, they'd meet the same fate.. Having to swallow what your insane authorities do, with your own life in the line, is also something very real. This situation obscures the number of people who are against it from the superficial look.

I myself live in the country where people can't protest against the government unless they want to go to prison or face other dire consequences, so having to sit quietly for the sake of yourself and your own families for the outside world LOOKS like we don't care and ""'"agree""". :)))) Fun stuff. :') Here, anyone who would ask why Hornsent that disagree with their leaders don't express it would technically be in their right to do so, but most people will protect their own life first, especially if sacrificing it won't really avail anything. Again, Elden Ring is incredibly real with these topics. :')

[blood-red-hummingbee]

Picnics in the Park

Nyehehehe 2 am married JackRose thoughts go brrrrrrr

RORY BELONGS TO @screamintoad <3 <3 <3

Rose stretched, the sun warm on her face. Rory and Ace sit next to her, chatting as they eat their food. She crossed her legs out in front of her, admiring her just visible belly bump. Pregnancy itself wasn’t very enjoyable, but the result was. Looking up, she smiled. Jack was pushing a giggling Joey on the swing. She turned back to her friends on the picnic blanket, Ace squawking as Rory laughed about something - probably whatever joke had his husband as the butt. Adorable.

Rory glanced at her, then turned his head a little, his gaze shifting to the side. “Oop. It's a person.”

Frowning, Rose turned to where he was looking, back in the direction of the swings. Jack was still pushing Joey, but his soft smile was gone, and on the swing next to them was some lady and a child who looked like they definitely did not need nor want her to push them. She wasn’t paying the kid any mind, half-heartedly shoving them as she yapped at Jack. Rose felt her eye twitch. Her husband was definitely a treat when he was interacting with their son, the woman’s attraction was more than understandable. The obnoxious behavior was not.

“Jeez, take a hint, lady.” Ace muttered, his attention drawn to the annoying woman. “Uh… Rose, you good?”

She glanced back at the man. “Oh, I wanna skin her. I also don’t really wanna get up. It’s fine, the disappointment will hit her harder than I ever could. Just look at him…”

Even when he was annoyed, Jack was handsome.

Rory snorted. “Simp!”

“Mmhmm, you know it.”

Her best friend laughed. She was most definitely deeply in love with her husband, but it had become an exaggerated joke between the two.

“I’m gonna go fuck with her.” Rose stated, finishing off her tumbler of (unfortunately decaf) coffee. Rory stifled his chuckles, looking up at her. “What?”

“Help me up!” She made grabby hands at him. She could get up by herself perfectly fine - she wasn’t really that big yet and still as fit as ever - but why should she? He scoffed, but helped her up anyway, well aware that she was playing it up, a smile starting to fight its way onto his face through the faux annoyance. “Try not to do anything illegal!” He called after her as she started towards the playground.

“Oh, please, I save the illegal stuff for Ace!”

Rory cackled as Ace dramatically bemoaned how evil she was. She snickered, both at her friends’ theatrics and the thought of messing with the lady - who had gone silent and was now awkwardly pushing the preteen on the swing. It was almost punishment enough. Almost. Ace may have been exaggerating, but she knew full well that she could be petty. She reveled in it, even.

“My! Just who is this cutie? What’s your name, handsome little guy?” She cooed as she approached the swing Joey was sitting on, his face lighting up at her approach, albeit a bit confusedly. He’s a smart boy though, catching onto the fact that she was playing around. “I’m Joey!” He proclaimed happily, his words soft, round and slightly cut off in true toddler fashion. “What’s yours?”

Rose crouched in front of him - the action still manageable thankfully, even though it wouldn’t be for long. “My name’s Rose! What about your Papa here, do you know his name?” She asked, glancing up at her husband and winking. He smiled back, that soft smile just for her and Joey. It made her melt every time.

“Papa’s name is Jack!” Joey announced, proud of himself. Recently, he had learned that his parents have names outside of ‘Mama’ and ‘Papa’ and he had gone around to everyone he knew, informing them. It was the cutest thing she’d ever seen.

Rose giggled, standing up again. “What a nice name! Strong and handsome, just like Papa, huh?”

Jack laughed softly, raising an eyebrow at her. “Is that so?”

She hummed. “Yup. You look just like him, y’know that Joey?”

He nodded. “Uh-huh! Mama says tha’ alllll the time!”

She wanted to laugh and shower the boy in kisses for being so cute and catching onto her game so quickly, but she had to wait. She could see the disgruntled woman from the corner of her eye - but even if she couldn’t, the death stare being drilled into her head was palpable.

“Does she now? Is Mama around here anywhere?”

Jack snorted, indulging her. “Yeah, she’s around.” He said, giving her a questioning look. She spared him a quick, sly smirk before forcing her expression into a pout. “Really? Now that is a damn shame.”

Finally, her target took the bait. The woman scoffed. “That’s not appropriate language to use around a child, miss.” She curled her lip at Rose, and she came so close to laughing. After all the Overblots, this woman looked about as intimidating as a kitten. “He said she’s around so get lost. Or are you gonna keep harassing them and trying to break up a family?” She sneered.

Rose gasped, holding her hand to her chest. “Oh my gosh, you are so right! Joey, where’s your Mama, I need to say sorry!”

The boy seemed put off by the woman, but quickly smiled and giggled back. He held up a chubby finger and pointed at Rose herself. “Here!”

She gasped again looking up at Jack - who seemed like his self control was waning, his jaw clenched tight as he kept his attention focused on his family, not the woman beside them. She gave her husband a bright smile. “I can’t believe it! I’m Mama! Does that mean Papa and I are married?” She asked Joey, putting her hand to her chin and pretending to be deep in thought. The little boy nodded excitedly. “Yeah! An’ we live in a house an’ you an’ Papa have a room an’ kiss, which is icky!”

She laughed, finally pulling him into her arms and planting a kiss on top of his head. “Really? Well, that’s just amazing, I can’t imagine anyone better to live with!”

She tickled his sides and he squealed, squirming and giggling. Glancing at the woman, her mouth was hanging open slightly, the kid who was sitting on the swing in front of her gone. Jack’s jaw was still clenched, but there was a smirk playing on his lips, his eyes betraying the satisfaction he got from her petty mischief.

With Joey now on her hip, her lower back was protesting but she ignored it. “Say, how hungry are you boys? Uncle Rory and Uncle Ace might eat all the sandwiches if we don’t haul ass back!”

Rose had thought it was over, that the woman was done and would refrain from opening her mouth again. She was wrong. Apparently, she felt like embarrassing herself more. “That’s still not appropriate language for children!” She screeched, her tone shrill. She made a show of looking Rose up and down.

Rose was in a sleeveless top and shorts - what with the summer heat - and her tattoos were on display. The woman's gaze snagged on her face as well, clearly judging her piercings and dyed hair.

Rose rolled her eyes. “Dude, seriously? How desperate can you get? You went from making the understandable mistake of flirting with a handsome guy you didn’t know was married to being a judgemental bigot. Well done, genius.” She bounced Joey a little. “Hey buddy, do you get to say ‘damn’ and ‘ass’?”

He shook his head. “Those a’ grown up words. I say dang an’ butt though!”

She smiled, rubbing her nose against his. “Damn right. You’re so eloquent for how old you are, you know that? I bet it's all those books you read, good job buddy!” 

He cheered and started talking about a book he’d read the other day - something about dinosaurs. She happily smiled and nodded along, adding sounds of astonishment in all the right places. Jack wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side as they left the fuming woman to stew.

Getting back to their picnic blanket, Joey restarted his dinosaur story so Uncle Ace and Rory could hear it too, and Rose happily sat down, leaning back against Jack’s chest.

Rory glanced up as Joey essentially climbed into Ace’s lap so he could hear him better. “So, no one’s dead or in jail. Well done, sistah!”

Rose snorted, grinning widely. “Why, thank you! Quite proud of myself, actually. She’s lucky I was in a good mood today!” She said, faking a posh accent.

Their conversation carried on, though she doesn’t know exactly what they said, as Jack wrapped his arms around her, resting his hands on her belly. “I love you.” He murmured, just loud enough for her to hear with his chin on her shoulder. She smiled softly, running her hands along his arms. She was still talking to her best friend, but she knew that he knew that she reciprocated the sentiment wholeheartedly. She loved her family, and nothing would ever change that.

~

Tagging: @skriblee-ksk, @gimmeurmoneyagh, @babyghoul138

If you wanna be tagged for JackRose content, lmk <3

[ryuichirou]

what kinda underwear do you think the male cast would wear?? i like to think Jade would go without some days, so improper!! OTL Floyd with the colorful patterns, whether he actually wears them tho is a 60/40. i can see him in those cliche heart boxers very, very easily. Do you think any of the cast would keep their lovers' underwear, like a souvenir? I could see Lilia doing it. 1/3 (the rest is just horny posting for a fish)

2/3 (this is *not* an art request just me being down bad for a semi-crazy assfish) I would die to see jade leech in lingerie OTL i cant think of any scenarios where he'd wear it, but god is it a beautiful mental image. Considering his take on clothing (being a mer+weird asf) I don't think he'd have any actual hangups about it, but he still wouldn't do it under normal circumstances. i think part of the appeal for me, is that you wouldnt expect a guy like him (big, top, JADE) to wear sumn like it

3/3 in conclusion  they took away my license because of how  fast i was undressing him

Hi Anon!

This is such a great theme for hcs, and I am very sorry that it took so long, but please understand: this is a very complicated subject, I just had to do research before writing it. Well, in actuality I was just googling all kinds of underwear over and over again until the picture in my head for every single boy looked right lol We’ll get to hcs shortly, but first I’ll reply to the other things you’ve said!

Btw, this ask is from MARCH, that’s how far behind I am in replying to those.

Totally agree about Lilia stealing his lover’s undies as a souvenir. This is his trophy, and he is very proud of them. He should have a display in his room…

Floyd also has his stealing undies moments. Some of the boys he sleeps with could be smitten with him enough to try to gift him their underwear, and Floyd would go “??? Why the fuck do I need these”. But sometimes? He just steals them lol He totally stole a couple of Riddle’s undies. He doesn’t really store them well though, so they’re just lying around his and Jade’s room…

Rook. Rook would also take trophies. And he would take such good care of them it’s insane. Now this is someone who would have a display somewhere… somewhere where no one would be able to see it unless he wants them to…

I also think Ortho would do it one time just because he wanted to play out the trope of having someone else’s panties in his room, oops! He’s a weird boy.

Can’t say much about Jade in lingerie, but it really would look good, not gonna lie….

Riddle – god I want him to have cute ones with a strawberry print, but realistically he is probably wearing just some plain tighty whities…. unless they have a pretty embroidered “R” on it, which is somehow even worse. I love him so much. Wait, would he be the one to wear undies with the weekdays written on them?

Ace – just some boxer briefs, nothing crazy; he used to have very colourful ones when he was younger, with fun prints and all, but nowadays he tries to be a bit more stylish and mature about it, so a lot of times he goes for dark-red/red/black ones.

Deuce – pretty neutral, but he does have a “lucky” pair of trunks that he always wears when he has something important going on that day… He also has a pair of very good seamless running underwear (deep blue with some light blue patterns), and he kind of cherishes them because it’s an expensive gift. Just wear them and run, Deuce…

Trey – he prefers boxers, the ones that are basically just shorts and aren’t tight. They also look pretty plain, but he has some with the tartan print. Usually green or red… He would look like a Men’s Health model if he wore something less loose and more stylish, but he loves his stupid tartan boxers!

Cater – boxer briefs, but the “leg” part is somewhat shorter; he has a variety of different ones, but it’s almost always some variation of grey and orange. He buys the ones that seem cool to him, even the sillier ones are on the cooler side; he is very happy that his sisters don’t have power over what kind of underwear he wears… he thinks about it every time he looks in the mirror after taking a shower.

Leona – probably something high-end and luxury, but he also doesn’t wear them all the time. He wears something short, slick and sporty when he does anything sport-related and needs support for his balls, but other than that – nah, putting on underwear is just another annoying unnecessary extra thing to do.

Ruggie – he bought the cheapest ones available in bulk when he was like 13, and he still wears them (they were a little big for him when he first got them). His grandma said that it has to be cotton, but other than that – it doesn’t matter, and Ruggie believes it wholeheartedly. So I guess some neutral grey briefs? Nothing too fancy.

Jack – oh this boy. He doesn’t like underwear that doesn’t give him good support, so all of his options fit pretty close to his body. I guess his signature ones would be briefs in which one leg is just plain black, and the other leg has a print of half of the wolf face… what, you think it’s cringe? At least it’s not the ones where the wolf’s face is in the crotch area… Jack actually thinks those are cringe too – he got a pair of those from Ace, Deuce and Epel for his birthday (google wolf underwear)

Azul – Calvin Klein and Hugo Boss are his best friends. Very… gentlemanly. He always picks the ones that would make him feel like a successful young man. They’re not too short, but a little shorter than regular boxer briefs, and always very tight. To some maybe even uncomfortably tight, but Azul doesn’t mind it at all for some reason. He has exactly 10 pairs of grey and purple ones, exactly 10 pairs of black and purple ones and a couple of white ones.

Floyd – a big collection, kind of like with his shoes and socks. He hates plain ones, but some of his undies aren’t obnoxious – he has a couple of pretty stylish and bright ones that aren’t too crazy. But yeah, a lot of them are pretty obnoxious and bright lol He loves loose boxers, but also has some tighter ones too.

Jade – yeah he’d go commando lol But not all the time. His choice of underwear is… eclectic. Of course, he has some plain ones (a couple of those are similar to Azul’s but in a different colour and size), but also? He has some surprisingly silly ones. Of course with mushrooms and stuff, or something that too cursed even for Floyd to wear. It just tickles Jade when he has a secret…

Kalim – luxury underwear! Mostly white + yellow/golden/orange ones, but he has some black ones as well. Super high quality, super special design, super cool-looking actually. And Kalim doesn’t even know that his underwear is different from the rest of the guys, but if he ever was to try on some other type of underwear, he would immediately feel discomfort and say that it doesn’t feel right against his skin. Too rough…

Jamil – his is also pretty high quality; even though his family serves the Asims, I feel like this is exactly why Jamil can afford a good pair of underwear. It’s not even remotely near the price tag of Kalim’s though, god forbid, no one should allow to wear underwear this expensive..! Anyways, since Jamil likes to go sleeveless, he probably prefers underwear that doesn’t cover his thighs at all, so just some regular tight briefs. It’s mostly black+deep red, his favourite colour combo.

Vil – there he is, the underwear guru. He has all kinds of underwear and sometimes changes it multiple times per day depending on his activity: he wears seamless short briefs for yoga so it’s not visible through his leggings, but still gives him support, he wears longer boxer briefs for jogging so his thighs don’t rub against each other too much, he wears some other type for flying… his collection is expensive, high quality and very well organised… What was that? A thong? Of course he wears a thong sometimes, it looks hot. And lingerie too, when it’s appropriate. Come on now.

Rook – there he is, the man who used to wear underwear with holes in it and didn’t even care. Point at him, laugh at him, and then say thank you to Vil Schoenheit who took one look at this creature and said “I can fix him”. Anyways, nowadays Rook wears a pair of seamless boxer briefs that hug his body tightly but don't feel suffocating; he owns a bunch of these in different colours. He also owns a jockstrap, and finds it kind of functional, but it makes his butt too prominent, so he doesn't wear it. It’s for special occasions only...

Epel – he fought his mum for the right to buy himself some new cool underwear before coming to NRC (having colourful undies your mom bought you when you were 12 SUCKS!), but he didn’t even get to wear them much because Vil saw them and gave him a lecture about how this is the worst type of underwear he could wear (pure polyester, are you serious??), and that Epel doesn’t care about the well-being of his down-there at all. Long story short, Vil got him some red+purple boxer briefs for the regular wear (not too tight, very comfy!) + a couple of  black pairs for magift (longer ones?? Epel didn’t even know it existed). Epel was actually worried that he would get some stupid girly underwear, but wow these are… kind of nice. But he would never admit that the ones Vil got are much better!!

Idia – he usually wears the grey ones with triangles that STYX issues for its personnel. They are pretty comfy, and you can just grab a box and boom – you don’t have to think about your underwear ever again, EASY. But also Idia has some kind of childish loose boxers… with his favourite characters, of course. This isn’t just underwear, it’s also merch. Perfect for rewatching 300 episodes of your favourite anime.

Ortho – how much he wishes he could wear underwear…! But if we’re talking about real!Ortho, I think he would also like good ol’ regular loose boxers. But overall his underwear collection is less childish than Idia’s, at least because he has some Calvin Kleines.  And yes, of course it’s black and neon blue. He doesn’t really like the STYX ones because they make him sad, but he wears those from time to time because he wants to match with Idia.

Lilia – the moment he discovered funky underwear he was never the same. It’s the same thing he does with socks: he buys everything that seems fun, even if it ends up not being his size: he just gifts it away to younglings, so it’s all good! I think every Diasomnia boy has at least one pair of underwear that doesn’t match his style at all, because it was Lilia’s gift… anyways, Lilia either wears black ones with bright patterns (black + neon green+pink!), or something completely obnoxious. Nowadays he’s also thinking whether he could pull off something cute+sexy…

Silver – he wears whatever and doesn’t think about it twice, as long as it’s clean and has no holes in it. The majority of his underwear are pretty boring regular boxer briefs + just regular boxers that aren’t as tight. He also has one silly pair with blue and pink birdies… a gift from father, of course. He always smiles when he wears them.

Sebek – his default is black+green briefs; his thighs are getting too powerful, so he doesn’t like shorts-type underwear these days. But he does wear one lengthier pair – and it’s special equestrian underwear that has padding on the crotch. Sometimes the boy just wants some extra protection against rubbing okay… it’s not as much of a problem for the rest of the equestrian club boys for some reason.

Malleus – it’s clearly custom-made just for him: it’s black, made of high quality special type of silk + has beautiful lacing. Honestly, Malleus panties are a piece of art. I guess it’s like traditional Briar Valley type of design, but super extra fancy; he is the future King, after all. It’s hard to say if it’s comfy or not, but it looks quite dramatic. Malleus also has some underwear that is lengthier, almost like leggings. 

Bonus round!:

Crowley – doesn’t wear anything. Don’t tell anyone.

Crewel – a big variety, a lot of bold patterns, but his favourite pair is a part of black trunks with a white zebra print. Shocking, I know. He has some pretty sexy ones though, maybe even a thong.

Trein – granpa undies… grandpa undies.

Vargas – unfortunately, probably a jockstrap.

Sam – well wouldn’t you want to know? :)

Che’nya – he almost never wears underwear. And he flashes people. He is a very, very bad cat. He only wears underwear when he knows his pants are going to slide down because he doesn’t know how to use a belt properly, and people are going to see that he is wearing boxers with cartoon hedgehogs tickling each other in a weirdly sexual manner. Bad, bad cat.

Neige – pretty plain ones! Almost all of his underwear is either white or light blue. Some of them have silly prints, almost too cute for a guy… He gets tons of very cool expensive underwear for free as promo, but he donates the majority of them without even unpacking it. Thank you for your kindness, but people need undies more than Neige <3

Rollo – he is similar to Riddle, but I also think he would be that one kid who wears some priestly old-timey looking cotton shorts, because these are more traditional, and traditions are to be cherished. One could think that this is a part of his school’s uniform, but nah, Rollo is just a little weirdo… looks good on him though.

Fellow – I’m sorry, it’s probably kind of bad :( it used to be a decent pair of boxer briefs that he got when they suddenly got lucky enough with money, but now it’s well-worn and has some holes in it. It also used to be bright orange, but now it has a pale sort of peachy hue… he wants to get something new to wear, but whenever they get the money, clothes aren’t really a priority.

Gidel – his aren’t as bad because Fellow always wants Gidel to have something at least a little bit better than what he has, but Gidel’s pair of boxers is clearly too big for him. It’s pinned around his waist just so he doesn’t lose them… it has some guy’s name written on the butt part, and while Fellow finds it kind of depressing (maybe he remembers the guy he stole those from), Gidel thinks it’s pretty funny.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Oh you wanna play that game?! FINE!

"She's gone baby. You can't go back... I am sorry"

Joel woke up with a start, gasping Sarah’s name. He was drenched in cold sweats, his heart pounding in his chest.

The only source of light came from the blueish sky filtering through the curtains— indicator of the imminent sunrise . Joel felt his chest clench painfully as he struggled to get the air inside his lungs. He clutched at the sheet beneath him as terrible memories came rushing through his mind.

“Joel?” You mumbled sleepily.

Quickly realizing what was happening, you sat up and turned on the small light next to you.

“Joel, baby, what’s going on?”

“S-Sarah, Sarah…dead…she’s dead”

You frowned, trying to understand what he was talking about.

“Honey, Sarah’s okay. You just had a nightmare,” you soothed your hand up and down his back as he struggled to breathe.

“No, no, she…she…” he couldn’t even get the words out anymore, each word, each syllable uttered edging him closer to despair.

“Joel, listen to me, hey,” you turned his face towards you, caressing his cheeks “she’s okay. We watched a movie, she fell asleep and you carried her to bed. She’s okay.”

But your words weren’t enough. He was in too deep, wrapped up in his own fear. You brushed the sticky hair from his brow and grabbed his hand. He didn’t even fight you, let you guide him through the small corridor.

Down the hall, you slowly pushed the bedroom door open, allowing Joel to witness the small lump under the covers.

Sarah.

Joel’s lips trembled as he advanced in the room. He got on his knees, his hand reaching for the frizzy hair he adored. His fingers trailed down the soft features and relished in the small puffs of air he felt against his skin.

She was breathing. She was okay.

Leaning against the frame, you smiled fondly as you watched the scene before you. Joel let out a shaky breath and kissed Sarah’s brow before getting up. He turned towards you, his sad, terrified gaze now relieved.

“I-I’m sorry, I thought…” he mumbled, reaching for your hand.

“It’s alright, honey. You-“

“Hey what’s going on guys? A little too late for a slumber party” a sleepy voice cut you off.

You looked over Joel’s shoulder to see Sarah, her eyes half closed, still hiding under the covers.

“We…we just thought we heard something. Thought you might have fallen off your bed so we came to check.” You quickly answered, squeezing Joel’s hand

“Why would I fall off the bed?”

“Because you’re a tornado when you sleep and it’s a miracle you don’t wake up with bruises all over your body every morning”

“Mmmh it’s too early to be witty, Y/N.”

You smiled. “You’re right, baby. Go back to sleep.”

She answered with soft snores, earning a chuckle from you. You closed the door behind you, still holding Joel’s hand. His nightmare had been so real, the fried and pain so true he struggled separating it from reality.

“You’re not gonna be able to sleep now, are you?”

He shook his head. “‘T’s fine, I’ll go downstairs and you can sleep some more.”

“Nah, i’m gonna fix you some breakfast because you and I both know my coffee’s better than yours.”

You guided him to the kitchen, sitting him down on one the bar stools. Joel watched you, his silence contrasting with the loud thoughts swirling in his head.

“I’m so scared for her,” he finally admitted when you handed him his coffee mug. Your arms wrapped around his neck, you dropped a soft kiss on his shoulder for comfort. “You’re all I have and she’s growing so fucking fast and I…I don’t know if I’ll be able to protect her.“

“You will. You’re her dad and one of the best at that. I’ve never seen a father take such good care of his kid but you do. You do a fantastic job, honey. Maybe I don’t show enough appreciation but you can be proud of yourself, Joel, I know I am.”

You kissed his forehead, bringing him closer. Joel let his head rest on your chest, clutching at your waist. “Thank you, darlin’”

yeah denial is my middle name how did you guess?

If it wasn't midnight I would come swinging left and right for you. But I will let you have this. I sure as hell hope you are a writer because this is incredible. 🥲

Uhh... all I can think about now is Joel watching over Sarah all day long after an nightmare like that. He's jumpy and every sound that comes from her room makes him go still. Even it she's frowning at her dad every time he pulls her in for a hug.

"He's okay?", Sarah would ask you after dinner as you both are washing up the plates. You give her a puzzled look. "Is dad okay? He's been weird today", she looks out of the kitchen and into the living room. Eyes falling over how Joel is rubbing his palms over his thighs. "A tough night. Needs extra loving", you tell her after you glance at Joel yourself. You take a plate from Sarah's hands, "How about you go and give him a big cuddle?", you ask her softly but your words only make her frown more. "You sure everything is okay? He's not like sick...", you quickly shake your head, pulling her closer into your own embrace. "Parents have their fears. Crippling ones when it comes to their children. One day when you'll have a bub of your own you'll understand", you gently cup her face. Sarah bites the inside of her cheek holding herself from asking more questions as she walks towards the living room.

"Scoot over, grey fox", she nudges her father's leg, making Joel look up. "What?", "Come on, make room for me", Joel moves to the side and Sarah quickly jumps onto the sofa. Nuzzling into her father's side. Joel wraps a protective arm over her shoulders. Leaning in to press a loving kiss on her forehead. "You know that I love you right?", Sarah looks up at her dad, Joel only smiles, "I believe I love you just a little bit more, sunshine".

[louissatturi]

TRANSLATING KAISER'S PHOTOS TO ENGLISH JUST BECAUSE

!ORDEM PARANORMAL DESCONJURAÇÃO SPOILER!

"Me and Bruno my best friend. He is light"

"This girl seems nice, she is always talking about exploding stuff, i'm a little sacared, but i think it must be BADASS to explode something... she speaks english from time to time, it would be nice to have her to help with non-translated RPGS, im stuck for days in a Força G Adventures quest... do they notice that im taking pictures hidden? '-' "

"This guy is kinda crazy, his eyes change colors sometimes, i got to notice it when he talked to other people... it seems that people like him. I like his flower shirt that he wears, i would even wear it. But i think people would find weird since im always in black"

"This girl has a really fucking good bird, i think its a parakeet (Arthur thinks its a vulture) she has a weird smell, maybe because of it, i heard that she is a florist, i wonder if she could tech me how to take care of some plants? It would be good to have a house full of flowers instead of skulls everywhere!☠️ not that i dont like them, Ivete has a good taste, is just that ... i like flowers, i miss them"

"Those two fight sometimes. What’s worst? I understand both sides. I don’t think Luciano is a bad person for wanting to protect how he loves and i dont think erin is a bad person for wanting to something to help. Its weird idetifying with the two. If i could i would do everything alone, i would. But a big part of my journey was only possible because i had them by my side. We cant always do everything alone! :)"

"Joui has always been kinda weird, like, how could someone not know força G???? Like???? He is weirder then usual this days, evertime like this, worried, i think he is hidding something (really was) but i know if he is hidding something, its for everybodys well being, i just hope he dosent get hurt. Belive it that there is a plant in this house? Looks like a relief in the middle of so much misfortune. It can be seen there in the corner"

"With this i just remembered those nights of him training,trying, to play the guitar with just one arm. I was dificult for him. He felt a lot of pain in his fingers. That was a day that he got stressed and he thought he could never do this, i said some stuff to him that in my head ware obvious. The other day he gave me a hug and keept training. He is really badass playing after working so hard, im so proud of you, bro!"

"Did i managed to disguise it? Bro, heros dont cry (at least not in public) do i have to feel shame for crying? I don’t think so, i feel closer to who cries next to me. Why am i ashamed of crying??? Everbory in the ordem liked tristan very much. When i die, i wish to die surronded by people too..."