#again! it has been YEARS!! like as in ten since we dated! eight since we hooked up!! five since we saw each other in person last!!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

carolmunson · 2 months ago

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let's go, don't wait | part three

the end, y'all. thanks for waiting a year and some change for this. there are scenes in here that've been planned since april of 2023.

inspired by this prompt by @edsforehead series masterlist chapter summary: after two and a half successful dates, eddie's feeling pretty sure about your connection. but skeletons from his past rear their heads from the deep end, and some of your old wounds need some healing. fluff/angst/comfort. also, beach episode. cw: 18+ pls. smut (p in v, oral both receiving, blah blah blah). not full body mention but some insecurity for reader. reader does wear eddie's clothes but they're sleep clothes. miscommunication. some mild drinking and smoking.

Eddie stands tall on the diving block above the pool, looking down at his legs covered in hair, seeing the end of one of his tattoos peek out from the bottom of his trunks. He wiggles his toes, running a hand through his long hair. No longer eight, but thirty-two, standing on the diving block while the tinny metallic sounds of the YMCA pool echo around him. The chlorine and subtle must of the room wafts through him, over him, the sounds of the water moving while his swim lesson classmates slowly kick their legs back and forth plays in his ears. But it’s not his classmates from the 90s. It’s his friends now; Gareth, Jeff, Steve, Robin, Alycia, Tati, Nance, Dustin, Lucas – the rest. They’re all watching him get ready to dive. Some look impatient, some look annoyed, some look curious at what he’ll do next.

“You can do it, kid!” Eddie hears Wayne’s gruff voice call from the seating overhead, “You can do it!” He turns to see Wayne in his old Carhart jacket, at least ten years older than Eddie is and with not one thread out of place. Ed smiles and waves at him, a shot of confidence pumping through his chest at the sight of his uncle’s worn and weathered smile. But there you are behind him and his confidence wavers. You smile shyly from your seat on the bench, waving small from your chest. Eddie blushes pink when he sees you sitting there, he doesn’t wanna belly flop if you’re watching. “H-hi,” he calls out, waving back with an awkward toss of his arm. Your mouth says ‘Hi.’ back but he can’t hear you; the echoes of the pool becoming too loud for whatever you’re starting to say to him.

“What?” he calls out again, cupping his ear. His best friend classmates kick their legs faster, a rush of splashes drowning you out. “You can do it!” he finally hears you encourage alongside Wayne, “Show me you can do it!”

At the sound of the whistle he turns his attention back to the water, seeing Miss Tiffany’s bright red swimsuit straps on her shoulders. But Miss Tiffany’s head has been replaced; Chrissy stares back at him treading water with the whistle between her teeth. “Ready, Freddie?” she asks, hand on the whistle again. Ice runs through him now, nerves, watching while Chrissy watches him. Suddenly he isn’t sure what the position to dive is, where to put his hands, how deep he should bend his knees. It’s been so long since he’s done this, since he’s had to prove himself like this in front of so many people – and now you’re watching too.

“Uh-um…” he stutters, shuffling awkwardly, “Y-yeah one second.” “C’mon Ed,” Chrissy says from the water, “You’re gonna get cold up there. Aren’t your feet cold?” “What?” he asks from the block, another chill running through him. “Are you really not gonna dive, dude?” Steve asks from the edge of the pool, “I’ll dive again if you’re not gonna dive.” “C’mon dude, just do it!” Gareth smiles, “She’s watching!” “Uh…” he swallows hard, eyes darting from the water to the stands back to his feet on the white plastic of the block.

“Ed,” Chrissy sighs, “Seriously? Don’t be boring. People are watching.” “I’m not boring,” he bites back, “We weren’t boring.” “Do you think you can really do it? You couldn’t do it for me,” Chrissy blows the whistle again, “Ed just dive. God, just grow up.” Grow up… Eddie wakes up with a thumping heart; his throat tight with anxiety while he slowly turns onto his stomach. His room is still dark, the apartment a wash with silence with no light coming through the shades on his windows. Still night, still more time to dream. And you were there, you were watching. Watching him waste time on the block instead of showing you what he can do. Watching him fumble over himself in front of Chrissy who can only feel more annoyed. How much longer were you open to waiting for him to jump? Was it already getting boring? Is the fun part over? He swallows hard in real life, letting a breath out through his nose while he tries to calm himself back to sleep. Eddie reaches for his phone with a flailing search under the covers and pillows; finding it wrapped in his sheets by his hips. His brown eyes squint into the light when he clicks the screen awake; four in the morning. Your name shines back at him in his text notifications, you messaged him two hours ago – he hates that you have so much trouble getting to sleep some nights.

hey, i know you’re sleeping but i just wanted to let you know ahead of time that there’s a wrench in our sexy plans this weekend. i just got my period so i don’t think i can be very sexy. :( i’m sorry.

He doesn’t mean to, but he lets out a disappointed sigh that he’s glad you’re not around to hear. Getting older doesn’t mean the teenage boy in him that just wants to fuck isn’t disappointed to hear that there wasn’t going to be any fucking.

This weekend was supposed to be different – you finally had a weekend where you weren’t on call for your boss. Eddie planned to spend every single moment of it in between your sheets so he could show you what he’d been thinking about since that first steamy phone call you had when you went to Arizona. And he knew you were thinking about it, too -- if your texts from last night had anything to say about it. Sending him Saweetie’s Back Seat on Spotify and Aaliyah’s Rock the Boat to give him an idea of where your head’s been since his own was between your legs.

But he could only imagine it for now, both of your schedules not lining up again – either being too tired or not having time to settle in at each other’s places. Hiding away for a quick drink or two at the bar, kissing softly in the back where no one could see. Acting like two oversized kids who were trying to hide from their parents. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t spending his nights since Steve’s birthday playing the sound of your moans in his head over and over. Trying to remember the way your thighs quaked around his head, the way you gripped his hair, the way you tasted on his tongue. He can wait, he can totally wait.

Eddie wakes in the morning to the cool glow of a rainy day shining through his windows; feeling a giddy excitement reserved for 8th grade crushes on Valentine’s Day. Despite knowing that the weekend won’t be tossed in the throws of passion, he still spends at least forty five minutes in the bathroom, scooping body scrub out of Tati’s old tub of it when she got bored with the scent. In this life where Eddie always got someone's leftovers and hand-me-downs, these are by far his favorite ones. His body is a new level of soft and smooth when he comes out, the closest shave of his face he’s ever gotten. As he spritzes his cologne, Tom Ford Ombre Leather, a gift from Steve, he looks himself over in the mirror before getting dressed. Two silver chains, small rings, a chain bracelet, skin nearly shimmering – tight black boxer briefs hugging his hips and upper thighs. He looks good. Hair waving perfectly, lips full and hydrated, lashes long and dark – he’d have a crush on him, too.

Eddie stretches a bit, tugging on a pair of black chinos, still jingling with a layered wallet chain he forgot to remove before he washed them. He tucks the remainder into his back pocket when he hears his phone let off a ‘ding!’ on top of his dresser. He ignores it for a second, rifling through his closet for his favorite cut off tee that fits him just right. In his search he comes by a half empty box of condoms, boyishly sneaking two into his wallet with a snicker -- just in case. Eddie grunts when the phone dings again, walking over to see your name up on the screen.

hey… His heart sinks, dream coming to reality – you’re gonna change your mind and say you don’t wanna see him anymore. You’re gonna tell him this was a mistake. You’re gonna tell him you don’t actually like him like that. You’re gonna tell him you have a crush on Steve. You’re gonna break his heart ten times over.

He lets out a breath or two to steady himself, fingers shaking while he texts you back.

what’s going on? you gotta work or something?

He watches while the bubble pops up of you typing back – disappearing and reappearing like you don’t know what to say. no, it’s not that. He sighs again, sweat forming on the back of his neck, heart thumping in his stomach. He never should’ve fucking dove, he never should’ve fucking kissed you outside the bar. He never should’ve bought you that fucking throw for your livingroom. what’s wrong?

He watches the bubble start up again, dot-dot-dot, disappearing and reappearing. you didn’t respond to what i sent last night. i get it if you don’t wanna come over anymore. He laughs, nervous release, running a hand over his face – he’s so fucking stupid. The release settles into guilt in his chest, you must be feeling as nervous as he is. He thinks about you waking up and seeing that he hadn't replied. Eddie chews on his lower lip while he types back.

oh no, no! i’m sorry. i saw your texts when i woke up in the middle of the night and forgot to respond. i’m not mad, you don’t have to be sorry. i still wanna come over.

is it okay if we don’t have sex? i just sort of feel like ass and like, tmi but it’s really heavy the first couple days why am i telling you this? wtf sorry

please stop being sorry, it’s okay if you want to just be by yourself that’s fine but i really would love to still come over, is that alright? i’d love to take care of you

ew, you don’t need to take care of me

The speed that you send that makes him roll his eyes. He wonders if you know how clear it makes it that you want him so bad, how you're hoping he comes over and babies you the way you want him to.

i want to

🙄 gross, fine see you soon i guess key is behind the mailbox on the wall

He wastes no time getting in the Honda after he finishes getting dressed but a stir in his chest keeps him sitting in the driver’s seat while the car runs. As he holds the key to the ignition, Eddie takes pause. He swallows, a whisper of fear sitting in his heart – should he even like you this much? He knows you both said it, that you really like each other. But is this too much too fast? Is this too many cards on the table? He thinks to the dates before he met you where things fizzled out early. Maybe he should pull back a little, he doesn’t want you to get bored. He doesn’t want to be boring the way things started to feel boring with his ex-wife. He huffs, remembering his dream, Chrissy’s face in the water. Chrissy’s face while he helped her pack before she left. Chrissy’s face when she told him maybe they should start trying and he said maybe it was still too soon. Chrissy’s face when she told him she’d think it’d be better if they got a divorce.

He pulls in his cheeks, heart sinking while he thinks ahead to a fake memory he’s already convincing himself will happen. Imagining the day you pull away when he tries to hold you, the day he sees you in the morning and his heart doesn’t flutter. The day you tell him -- no matter how encouraging you'd been in the car, how interested you seemed in his life, how much you liked that he was so passionate about his friendships -- that he needed to grow up, too. What if he never grows up? What if he never dives again?

He lets out a breath that still slightly steams in front of him in the cold air of early spring, giving his face a once over in the rearview before the car whirs to life. Megadeth’s We’ll Be Back jolts him back to the present moment, knowing that at least this weekend you really fucking like him and he really fucking likes you.

“Hey Thumbelina,” he teases from the door frame of your bedroom, leaning against the doorframe with his overnight bag dangling off his shoulder. Your apartment is small and cozy, the radiator in the corner hissing quietly while your light curtains flutter in the breeze of your slightly open window.

“Hm?” you ask, looking up. Your sleepy face sends his heart hurtling, even more so when you make the connection of whose there – a smile breaking across your face. It makes his cheeks blush a boyish pink while he resists the urge to climb on top of you and smother your face in kisses. When you look at him and he looks at you, the fear he felt in the car feels like a false flag. The dream a reminder of hard feelings long past. When you're in front of him like this, nothing has ever felt more right in his whole life. He could get used to this.

“You’re laying down in the middle of a leaf,” he says, forehead tilting toward the monstera leaf print of your duvet while walking forward to sit at the end of our bed. He reaches out to grab your fuzzy sock covered foot and gives it a squeeze, “Like Thumbelina.”

You roll your eyes and laugh, turning to your other side and looking at him. Your perfume or body spray wafts through the room, mixed with the scent of dryer sheets from your freshly washed bedding. It’s clear from the state of things that you spent most of your night last night making sure the place looked like it was never ever messy.

“You look handsome,” you say softly, his blush reddens, “I feel ugly.”

“You don’t look ugly. If you want, I can downgrade the ‘fit,” he offers, looking you over and smirking at your oversized men’s sweatpants and home-made cropped sleep shirt, “Want me to change? We can be twins.” You nod and laugh the way he likes, "Twins? You got a crop top in that bag?"

"Nah, I'm fresh out," he scrunches his nose, "It's at the cleaners."

"Lame," you shrug, "Well, m'sorry you gotta see me like this. I look like a troll."

“Trolls actually have a pretty high natural armour class so -- it's not the worst thing you can be,” he explains while opening his bag to grab his sleep clothes. "Oh, wow," you start, with a pitying voice, "You're like, really a nerd huh?" "They also can regenerate which like, for a monster of their type is pretty cool. Pretty great perception too -- which like, would make sense y'know considering their surroundings? Good for survival sk...I should stop," he turns pink when he sees your smile, lower lip tucking into your teeth to hold off a giggle. "I'm really cool," he says, "I swear." "I know," you nod with an assured look, laughing, "Go change."

He leans forward, running a hand over your back while he surveys your side tables. Eddie didn’t think the movies always had it right about the 'time of the month', but the litter of candy wrappers, snacks, Advil, and three different drinks made him stand corrected. He presses a kiss by your ear, murmuring a quiet reminder that he’ll be right back.

When he does, you’re back on your side, scrolling through videos on your phone, snuggled under the green throw blanket he bought you when you went on your Target date a few weeks ago. He apprehensively sits on the edge of the bed, watching you, teeth gleaming in a smile when you beckon him over with your hand. He molds to you expertly, knees curling in to tuck behind your own, arm snaking around your waist to pull your back to his chest.

“Is this okay?” he asks quietly. You nod, sinking into him while your body relaxes. He swallows when your body pushes back a little, your hips wiggling in a way that brushes against him just the right way – and he’s not wearing pants that can hide what that might do to him anymore. When you settle, he does too, taking you in. Your body heat, the way you feel against him, how you smell. You smell so fucking good. How do you manage to smell so fucking good all the time? He could eat you and never feel full. “What’re we watching?” he asks, chin resting on top of your head.

“The scoopability of this week’s slimes,” you laugh. He reaches over to push your hair slightly out of the way of his view. Your neck stretches when his fingertips graze it accidentally, a wave of goosebumps appearing on your arm in front of him. Your neck, huh? He thinks to himself, a subtle smirk flicking onto his lips. He knew from last time you had a spot, but learning the intricacies of you was even more exciting. Where did you really like to be touched? How did you like to be held? There was still so much more to learn, there was no chance he could ever get bored.

“What does that even mean?”

“They make slimes, they scoop them, they rate the scoop,” you shrug, “It doesn’t get any more complicated than that.”

“Uh, okay…cool,” he nods, it’s clear he has no idea what you’re talking about. He watches while the soothing music plays, an ice cream scoop goes through multiple multi-colored and different textured ‘slimes’ with a rating ‘1/10’ flashing on the top of the screen. Some are smooth, some crunchy, some full of weird little add ons that he doesn’t understand. You play one video after another on your phone, thumbing through them on Tiktok like this is a regular pastime for you.

“This is actually kind of nice,” he says after the third clip, “Soothing.”

“Right?” you reply, “I think this account is my favorite, but, I’m never really paying attention to whose videos they are – just that they’re pretty.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, hand slowly caressing the dip of your waist, “But also like, wouldn’t all those little glitters and stuff get stuck in your teeth?”

You pause, putting your phone down and turning your head to him slowly. He lets his hand slide further over your diaphragm while you turn to face him, your face contorted in confusion – you almost look concerned.

“I’m sorry…” you start with a furrowed brow, “Did you think they were edible?”

“Are -- wait -- are they not?” he asks, genuinely bewildered. “It’s slime…” “Okay, well half of them have food names,” he shrugs, embarrassment building on his cheeks as he tries to explain, “Like, ‘mango peach slushie’, how am I supposed to think it’s not..that?”

“It’s not food,” you laugh, “Oh god, you’re so lucky you’re hot.” He gives you a little shove, laughing with you while you turn your whole body towards him under the blanket. Chest to chest. He breathes you in delicately, eyes coasting over your face in soft and sweet admiration.

“It’s sort of like silly putty.” “Oh, like, to play with,” he nods in understanding, noses nearly brushing when he peers into your eyes, "I'm really 0 for 2 today." “Don’t be embarrassed, it’s an easy mistake," your voice a calming rasp, pushing some hair out of his face,

Your fingers feel so soft against him that he shuts his eyes, trying as much as he can to savor the feeling of being so close to you. Finally a moment where he can hold you as close as he wants, kiss you as deep as he needs to, and there’s no bartender or bystander around to make either of you feel weird about it.

“I like that I’m here with you,” he says contentedly, “This is really nice.”

“I like that you’re here with me, too,” you grin. His hand comes up from its place on your waist to slide to the back of your neck, thumb running back and forth slowly over the edge of your jaw. Eddie falters a bit when you relax into his touch, moving in closer to him. One of your legs hikes up, your plush thigh resting over his hip – he holds back a groan as you wrap yourself around him.

“Comfy?” he asks. His voice is gruff with the stretch of wrapping himself around you in return, nose tip to tip with yours.

You nod, hiding your face in his neck while he lays a short row of kisses by your ear where he can reach, “Good.”

You lay together like that for a couple of minutes in the cool dark of your room, semi-sheer curtains drawn on this cloudy day so you don’t feel so bad about not going outside.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks into the quiet, “Please?”

“You can kiss me,” you nod with a giggle, “Always." Always.

As he leans in, lips ghosting against yours as a precursor for a deep needy kiss, Eddie’s phone buzzes and he turns to your snack-ridden side table to check it. An unknown number glows back at him up at the top of the screen, “Ah, shit...”

“What’s up?” you ask, pushing up on your arms to stretch out your back and sternum. He smiles at you while he gets up from off your bed.

“I ordered Indian food. You said you’re a saag paneer girl, right?” he asks with a tilt of his head before heading out of your room to the front door.

You lay there with full bellies, clicking through to soulDecision’s Faded music video on your journey of ‘Weirdo Hits from the 90s/2000s’. Back in your snuggling positions, he can tell you feel safe with him, your eyelids heavy while your head lays on his chest. “I can’t believe I knew every word to this song,” you mumble, “I was like seven.”

“Liquid Dreams is worse,” he barters, fingers running over the side of your head, just above your ear.

“Oh my god,” you laugh, “I forgot about Liquid Dreams. That’s next.”

You get through LFO and O-Town’s top hits, settling on Samantha Mumba’s ‘Gotta Tell You Tonight’ which bleeds into Mandy Moore’s ‘Candy’.

“Oh wow,” Eddie huffs a laugh, “Chris did this with her best friends for the talent show when we were super little. I think that’s when I started having a crush on her.”

He feels your head tilt up to look at him and he looks down, “Who’s Chris?”

“Oh,” he says, his chest deflates, “My um, that’s my ex-wife. Chrissy.”

“Oh yeah, you said,” you nod, leaning up on your elbows. You flop to your stomach and stare up at him, the pad of his finger coming up to lazily tap you on the nose.

“I know you said things were like, okay – but do you guys still talk at all?” you ask, head dipping with an devilish smirk, “Or do we hate her? What’s the gossip?”

Eddie lets out a hiss of a laugh, running his fingers through his hair from the temples upward, shaking his head, “Oh no, I don’t think I could ever hate her.”

“It’s not like she did anything wrong,” he explains, brows knitting together while he thinks about how to explain it, “We just wanted really different things. She really wanted to settle down and like, y’know, nest. She wanted to be a mom so bad and I wasn’t ready for that. I wasn’t ready for a lot of things she wanted. In a way, we just sort of outgrew each other – but y’know, sometimes that happens.”

“It’s funny,” he says with a slight smile, licking his lips, “I was so nervous about being on the apps thinking I was gonna see her profile – forgot she’s fully engaged. Like, I’ve met the guy.”

“Engaged?” you ask with your brows raised, “Scandalous. When did you guys divorce?”

“Pfff, hmm,” he thinks, puffing a breath of air from his cheeks, “We broke up and separated in September of 2020, divorce was filed – hmm, I think officially in January 2021? It was such a blur I can barely remember, we count our divorce as September at least.”

“And when did she get engaged? Or meet this guy? Is he cool? Or is he like – lame?” you ask, rapid fire.

“Is this a soap opera to you?” he laughs.

“It’s your lore,” you say, flipping onto your back, “And let’s be real, your lore is kind of soap opera-y.”

“What about your tragic lore, hm?” he presses, “When am I gonna get some of that?”

“We’ll get there one day,” you say with a tilt of your head, lips tucking in breifly. You welcome his arms when they circle around you, his weight shifting as he mimics your cuddling from before. His thigh slings over your hips, wrapping around you like a koala while his lips press against your cheek.

“It’s gonna be hot next weekend,” he says, nose nuzzling at your temple, “Steve wants to get the crew together to go to the beach. Do you wanna come?”

Your eyes flutter closed but you nod just the same. “Good,” he smirks, voice dropping to something a little husky, “You can wear that little red suit for me.”

“Ew,” you let out before you can stop it, your giggles shaking you in his arms, “Perv.” “Yeah?” he smirks, leaning in to kiss just under your ear, “Even though you sent me all those pictures?”

Your eyes shut when he kisses you there, a tiny gasp leaving your lips when he does it a second time. His tongue flicks out, tip of it drawing a thin line from the top of your neck to the hinge of your jaw.

“Ed, I don’t wanna have sex,” you pout.

“I know,” he smiles into your cheek, “I just like teasin’ you.”

“Well don’t,” you pout, gently shoving his face away from your cheek in faux frustration, “So unfair.”

You ease up onto your side, leaning over back to your laptop to scroll through the recommended music videos until you land on Savage Garden’s Crash and Burn. “Oh, fuck me,” he laughs, “I don’t think I’ve heard this song since 1999.” “The music video used to freak me out when I was little,” you settle back into him when it starts and he welcomes the weight of you against him. “Yeah it’s kind of freaky for a kid,” he nods, arm wrapping around you while darkness begins to find home in your bedroom, “I mean look how fucking blue this guys eyes are – terrifying.” The sound of your laugh bubbles like the girls at Forest Hills used to sound in the summer. The room starts to darken as the sun goes down, leaving you both in a glow of your laptop screen. “You know, we could watch these in the living room on the TV,” you laugh, sitting up. Eddie pouts when you shift out of his hold, pulling you back down into him. “Yeah, but I like this,” he mumbles, “I wanna hold you like this.” “Okay,” you snort, flipping back to your side to face him, “But you never told me about the guy she ended up with. Is he cool? Is he weird? Does he suck? When did she meet him?”

“You’re so annoying,” he teases with a shake of his head.

“So cute though, unfortunately,” you shrug, “So you have to tell me.”

“It’s true, you’re so cute,” he nods, leaning in to offer you a soft kiss on your lips and forehead, “I guess I’ll tell you.”

“She met Derek I think – errr – six months after we separated? One of those, ‘when you know, you know’ type of things – she even called to ask if it was okay if she went on a date with him.” “That’s kind of fucked up, rubbing salt in the wound,” you shrug.

“No,” he shakes his head again, sitting up with his back against the wall, “You don’t know her, so like – it sounds fucked up, but she just wanted to be courteous about it. Didn’t want me finding out through the grapevine or whatever. Anyway, they got engaged last May.” “Is he a tool?” you ask again, face scrunching like you might already know.

“No, he’s – he’s very much her kind of guy now that I think about it,” he laughs, “They live in Denver now I think, used to be Chicago, super outdoorsy. He cycles professionally, I think – works in tech. She’s running a yoga studio out there while she gets her masters.” “In what?”

“Art therapy,” he recounts softly, a gentleness in his tone, “She’s a really gifted painter, it helped her through a lot of shit. Got her undergrad in psych so – she’s always wanted to get her license. She’s just really meant to make people feel good about themselves and help them, I’m happy for her.”

“Okay, so she’s Mother Theresa,” you joke, “Can’t relate.”

“Mother Theresa if you put some strawberry blonde hair on her and made her a cheerleader,” he laughs, pulling out his phone. He pulls up a few photos, one from prom, a few from after shows, one from early Covid, “This is her.”

“Oh, wow…” you say wistfully, the glow of the screen lighting up your face. Chrissy’s face and body reflecting back in your eyes like a mirror, “She’s gorgeous.”

“Yeah, can’t believe she was obsessed with a dork like me,” he teases himself, putting his phone back in his pocket, “I couldn’t believe I pulled someone like that – still can’t.”

“Hm,” you nod. The room creeps darker with the laptop screen blanking out to sleep. If Eddie was really listening, he would’ve heard the tinge of something aching in your response.

“Do you um,” you start meekly, hesitating for a moment, “...do you still love her?”

Eddie’s quiet, leaning to his side to turn one of your side table lamps on.

“I’ll always love her,” he nods with a shrug, running his hands through his hair to make a makeshift ponytail before letting it go again, “She’ll always love me. But like, not in the way that we did when we were younger. We’ll just always have love for each other, I think.”

“Yeah, cool,” you mumble, taking out your phone, “That’s a cool way to look at it.”

“Thanks,” Eddie grins, reaching out to put a hand on your head. You move out of his touch, leaning forward to wake your laptop back up to let the next music video auto-play. Fat Joe’s What’s Luv ft. Ashanti popping onto the screen. You both watch for a bit, still half on your phone and half keeping your eye on the screen. Eddie sees you open and close your texts, your thumbs typing rapidly before quickly closing the app again.

“It’s so weird how many people were so vocal about how much they don’t go down on women,” you huff at the screen, “Like, that’s not something to brag about guys.”

“Yeah,” Eddie chuckles, “What is it you said before? Oh yeah – can’t relate.”

You still don’t turn back to face him, but he sees you nod and let out a breath, “That’s true.”

He slides himself back down on the bed, getting close to you in the way he was before, molding to your body with an arm around your waist. The soft lingering scent of your perfume still on your skin when he presses his face into the crook of your neck – but it’s not there for long. The bed shifts as you get up, stretching again, enough for your shirt to right up to see the underside of your breasts. A blush kicks up in his cheeks.

“Dinner and a show?” he quirks, “Don’t spoil me, sweetheart.”

“Sorry,” you squeak out at the end of a yawn, covering your chest, “I’ll be right back.”

Eddie’s lips tug into a small frown when you make your way out of the room, surprised that you didn’t have a joke to throw back at him. He likes how easy it is to back and forth with you, he doesn’t think he knows anyone who’s as quick as him – not the way you are. He likes that you keep him on his toes like that.

He checks his phone again in your absence, shooting his group chat with Tatianna and Gare with a regular check in. They left early this morning for a two week long trip to Aruba and he’s kept his phone on the loudest setting possible so he can be ready when he gets ‘the call’. They’ll come back as fiancés, but the only person who doesn’t know that is Tatianna.

When you come back there’s a grimace on your face, “Um…look, I’m sorry but –”

“Are you okay?” Eddie’s heart sinks.

“No, eh, yeah but, I um – I just really don’t feel good,” you confess.

“Can I get you something? You want some tea? Or I can run out and get ginger ale or –”

“No Ed, no I um…” you let out another long breath, “I think you should go.”

“G-go?” he asks, sitting up straight on the bed, “Like, go home?”

He watches you look him over, your shoulders sulking, “Yeah Eddie, you should go home.”

“Oh…” he thinks for a minute before standing up, “Is it…did I do something?”

“No, I just really don’t feel well,” you repeat, “I just want to go to bed.”

“Okay, well, I can…I can go to bed, too,” he tries to bargain, “I can sleep on the couch if you – if you want the bed to yourself. I get it.”

“Just go home,” you say with finality, not mean, not a yell – you just mean it, “Please.”

“Um, alright,” his voice is drenched in confusion, brows furrowing while he packs up his overnight bag in the corner, “Y’know if I – If I fucked up you can just say something.”

“You didn’t fuck up I just,” you deflate, crossing your arms protectively against your chest, “I wanna be alone.”

“I understand,” he murmurs, heart thumping in his chest, sending disappointment coursing through him. He slings the bag over his shoulder, not even bothering to put on his jacket or change. Cautiously, he approaches you, looking into your eyes trying to find the answer as to why you're telling him to leave.

"Uh, I'll uh, I'll see you soon?" he asks hopefully.

"Yeah, maybe," you nod, avoiding his stare. He can hear the beginning of a cry starting in your throat.

"Can I kiss you goodbye?"

"Uh, yeah, fine."

Eddie leans in, cupping your cheek to kiss you but you barely kiss him back. Lips like rubber even as he pulls away.

It feels like he belly flopped. His eyes start to sting when you walk past him, crawling into your bed and pulling your computer onto your lap.

"Get home safe," you mumble out. "Thanks," he whispers, giving you a half hearted wave before heading out the door.

I don’t want to Miss Tiffany...Swimming sucks.

Eddie gets in the Honda and sits there for a moment in the dark, feeling his jaw tighten and his nose tingle. He rolls his shoulders, sniffling, trying to calm down but the feelings over take him, both hands coming down hard on his steering wheel.

"FUCK!" he shouts, smacking it again with a pained growl, "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

He feels sick knowing that you slipped through his fingers just as quickly as you fell into them. He should've seen this coming, he should've taken the dream from last night as prophecy. What's the point of making it to level 3 if you'll never make it to level 4? What's the point of diving if you're not watching? If he's gonna belly flop anyway? Eddie's breath comes in shudders, tears spilling over his dark lashes onto his cheeks. You're only about 30 feet away still, he can always just go back to your door. He can fix it like he did on your first date, he can just get out, he can do something.

Grow up...

The unease from his dream blooms black in his chest, Eddie looks at your bedroom window and watches the light snuff out through the curtains. His chest deflates, shoulders rounding while he turns the key in the ingition, car revving on, seatbelt light blinking while the 'ding, ding, ding,' to put in on rings in his ear.

With a final thick swallow, he sucks in his cheeks and bites down to stop himself from crying. Eddie rakes his fingers through his hair, wipes his eyes, looks himself over in the rearview. He wouldn't have a crush on this version of himself, he can't imagine you would either.

With a sigh, he tugs on the seatbelt, puts the car in drive, and pulls down the street. Feeling further away from you than when you were across the country -- different planets, a totally different universe.

In the late afternoon the next day Eddie checks his phone for the twelfth time in an hour. You still haven't texted or called, not even responding when he told you he got home okay. All you did was send a 'thumbs up'. With a quiet sigh through his nose he shoves his phone into his back pocket, pushing open the squeaking wooden doors to Calamity's -- a dive bar that Robin's been working at every Saturday for the last five years. Her sandy hair is tucked behind her ears while she pumps the shaker next to her head, chatting with Nancy who sits across from her on the bar.

At the squeak of the door they both turn to look at him, Robin's brows quirk, "What're you doing here, loverboy?"

"I don't wanna talk about it," he mumbles.

"You wanna drink about it first?" she offers.

He nods, climbing onto the stool next to Nancy and leaning on his elbows on the sticky counter top, "Hey Nance."

"Hey Ed," she says, hand reaching out to rub his forearm, "You okay?"

"Yeah," he nods, "I'll be fine, I just -- yeah, I'm fine."

His phone buzzes, immediately reaching for his back pocket only to see an Apple News notification and no sign of you. He checks your socials for any sign of life, but you haven't even posted anything.

Another sigh and he can't help himself, resolve weakening as stubborn as he'd like to be.

hey, haven't heard from you. you okay?

He puts his phone on airplane mode, going a step further to shove it into the inside zipper pocket of his beat up leather jacket and keeping it locked up. The less accessible the better, he couldn't become the guy that waits by the phone all night aching for you. Not the way he did last night, tossing and turning in bed wishing so badly that you were next to him.

'Should I feel this bad so soon?' Eddie thinks, 'We're not even dating and we're fighting? Is this even a fight? Would this be considered a fight?' He listens to the drone of their conversation, the bar is open but normally no one really shows up until the sun goes down -- at least on the weekend. Robin slides a Jack and Coke in front him, tossing a tiny straw in with flourish.

"Here, sad sack," she teases. "Thanks," he murmurs, toying with the straw, making his silver chain bracelet tinkle against the hardware of his jacket. "Rob, c'mon," Nancy urges, "Don't mess around." "What, I didn't call him a loser," she defends, shrugging, "He's being a sad sack. Right Ed? You're a sad sack?"

"I'm a sad sack," he nods, "Nailed it, babe." "Well, what happened?" she asks again, voice softer this time. She leans herself over the counter, resting her hand on her palm. Eddie matches her posture, lifting the drink with his other hand. "I'll tell you when I finish this," he offers, "Talk to me about literally anything else." "Well I thiiiiink I'm about to land this new creative lead gig," Robin tosses her hair, her violet amber perfume feathering off of it, "Do I love the idea of working for a start up? No. Is it remote and 68 thou a year? Yes."

"Sick," he nods through a mouthful of liquor, "That's awesome."

"Gives me time to still work on my art shit with Tati," she shrugs, sipping from her water bottle, "And we'll probably be able to afford studio space if I get it."

"She'll be thrilled, damn. First an engagement ring and then an art studio that's not her classroom? Everything's coming up Edwards," he smiles for the first time all day. "Wait, did he propose already? Did we miss it?" Nance blanches, clutching her chest. "So far no," he laughs, "I think he's gonna wait until next weekend so they have one full week away as engaged. They're gonna come back and tell me to pack my shit."

"Well, you can always sleep in the loft -- or y'know," Nancy shrugs, "Maybe things're looking really good with your new girl?" Eddie hums, about to open his mouth but the door bursts open hard on its loose hinges and with it, the grittiness of the old subwoofers blasting Lil' Wayne's Lollipop.

“Oh, shit that’s my sooooong,” Steve exclaims while he gets in the door. He walks in like he owns the place, Ray Bans covering his eyes while a strand of his coiffed chestnut hair falls onto his forehead. “Just like a refund, I make her bring that ass back, and she bring that ass back – because I like that,” he drawls along, opening his phone with a smirk while the song gets louder throughout the bar.

“Shawty wanna thuuuuug, bottles in cluuuuub,” he goes on, walking forward toward Eddie whos chin his still in his palm. Eddie's face scrunches, not in the mood to play along, covering his ears when the bass speakers right above him start to vibrate.

"Turn it down, Steve!" Robin yells, but it's muffled against the beat. "Huh?" he cups his ear like he can't hear her, brows furrowing while he flicks his glasses up to push back his hair. "STEVE!" she shouts back. "What? I can't hear you?" he lies again, turning it up a touch more while he makes his way behind the bar. He snatches Robin's phone by the register before she can get to it to change the volume herself, laughing while he slips it into the pocket of his vest. 'Call me, so I can make it juicy for ya,' he mouths along, body rolling his way closer to her with every word, 'Call-Call me, so I can make it juicy for ya.'

The music cuts abruptly, Nancy now found by the stero with manicured nails lingering on the volume knob.

"I'm changing the fucking Spotify password, dingus," Robin snaps, "You can't do that every time you come here. I'm gonna get fired."

"Don't be such a bitch, Rob," he sours, tucking his sunglasses into the crew neck collar of his shirt, "Nobody's here."

"You're a bitch, Harrington," Robin snaps back. "The biggest bitch I know," Nancy adds, taking her seat back next to Eddie. Steve sits at the end of the bar on the other side of him. "What's the matter, sad sack?" Steve asks, cocking his head toward Eddie, "Mad that it wasn't the Framing Hanley version?"

"Aw, fuck off, dude," Eddie rolls his eyes before running his hand over his face, palm catching on his five o'clock shadow. "He hasn't told us yet," Robin explains, "We're waiting until he finishes his first drink."

Two Jack and Coke’s in, the conversation bumps to the potential art studio, to Nancy’s potential promotion, to Steve’s latest project at work. A few regulars have trickled in, using the TouchTunes to their advantage since Spotify ‘isn’t working tonight’ as per Robin’s punishment for Steve.

It gives Eddie a good reprieve, he’s glad he went out – beats being home alone and sitting there wondering what happened in the dark. Beats typing it up to send to Tatianna and Gareth and asking what happened and then deleting it because he doesn’t want to bother them on vacation. Beats wondering what you’re doing and why you won’t respond to him. Beats the feeling of laying in bed and wishing he knew what you'd feel like next to him for another night. Beats wondering what he did to deserve potentially losing out on something that felt more right than ever. Beats wondering if maybe you're it and how now he might never know.

“Okay, well, I let you get through two Jack and Coke’s – you gotta spill now, brother,” Robin sighs, leaning back down in front of him on her forearms.

“Oh yeah, weren’t you supposed to have your wet hot American weekend at her place? What’re you doing here?” Steve inquires, smirk pulling on his lips, “Performance issues?”

“Steve, come on,” Nancy sighs, “Are you serious?”

“Nah, nah it’s fine,” Eddie shakes his head, “He’s just coming from experience, right?"

“No um, I really don’t know,” Eddie shrugs, “I went to her house and y’know it’s her time of the month or whatever – so maybe th–”

“I’m gonna stop that thought before you finish it,” Robin puts a finger up, pink lips pulling into a smile, “Once sec while I pour this guy a beer.”

Eddie sheepishly takes another sip of his drink, feeling the dull weight of it in the front of his skull – not drunk, but if he’s not careful he won’t be able to drive home.

“Okay, continue,” Robin says when she gets back.

He takes his time walking through the night, retracing his vocal steps, the emotional ones. He talks about the slime videos, getting Indian food, how you didn’t want to have sex. The music videos, the kisses, the way you wrapped yourself around him – how everything seemed fine, perfect even. He was so excited to sleep next to you, to make breakfast in the morning, maybe shower together – maybe fuck in the shower if you were into it. But not…not this, not whatever happened.

“What did you guys talk about? Like, did she talk about her past or anything? Did she seem off? Did a subject come up that she seemed weird about?” Nancy presses.

“Yeah, you’re not giving us anything, just like – the highlights. We need the play by play, Munson,” Robin gestures with her hands, now nursing her own beer.

“I mean, we were watching music videos,” he shrugs, “And Chris came up but like, she knew I was married. She asked about the divorce and whatever, we talked about how she’s with her new guy in Colorado.”

“And?”

“And I don’t know?” he shrugs, heart starting to pound a little in his chest, “I mean I showed her a picture of her and like, sort of ragged on myself like – like how I couldn’t believe I pulled someone like Chrissy.”

“Oh dude,” Steve sighs, “Dude, you fuckin’ dumbass.”

“What? How am I a dumbass?” he asks defensively, hands out, pleading.

“Cause she’s not Chrissy,” Steve explains, “Like – god, come on. Imagine she showed you a picture of fuckin’ – I don’t know – Jon Bernthal? And was like ‘Yeah, can’t believe I pulled this hot, sexy, manly strong man. I guess you’ll do as a follow up after him.’”

Eddie blanches, guilt forming a ball in his throat, “But that’s not…That’s not how I meant it. Like, she’s – you’ve seen her. She’s gorgeous. She doesn’t have to look like Chris.”

“Yeah but, after you talked about her, did she seem all quiet after?” Robin asks, eyes flicking to him and then Steve.

“Well…well yeah–”

“See, told you,” Steve shrugs, “I might not have a girlfriend but I still know how ladies work–”

“Okay, okay, enough from you,” Nancy waves him off, “Did anything else come up?”

“She asked if I still loved her and I said yeah but like, not romantically. We just will always have love for each other – y’know? I mean, we were like – we were married,” he tries to explain, “Do you think – do you think she thinks I just wanna be with Chrissy?”

Robin grimaces, sipping her beer. Steve gives him a half hearted cock of the head.

“I think…” Nancy starts, voice of reason as present as ever, “I think she doesn’t know your history very well and you don’t know hers. It could be that things went left with her ex or she’s been hurt by stuff like this before. She might not have known how to talk about it to you – but I definitely think talking about Chrissy like she was some prize you had and now you’re settling had something to do with it.”

“But that’s not what I’m doing!” Eddie urges, hand coming down on the bar counter, “I’m not settling! I wanna like – I wanna be with her. I only talked about Chris so much because she asked I – I didn’t mean to hurt her feelings. And I asked! I asked if I did something or said something and she said it was fine.”

“Girls always say it’s fine Eddie, come on, you’ve been divorced. You should know,” Steve says with gravitas, “That’s like, what all women who are actually upset say.”

“I have an idea,” Robin says with a breath, “First, don’t listen to Steve. That’s obvious. Second, give it another day, send her a message saying something along the lines of ‘Hey, I think I might have said some things that didn’t come out right. I’d love to talk it out with you. When’re you free?’ and see where it goes.”

“Maybe you guys can hash it out at the beach next weekend? You think she’ll still wanna come?” Nancy asks.

“Maybe,” Eddie shrugs, moping now, “If she ever wants to see me again.”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Ed,” Robin rolls her eyes, sandy bangs tickling her lashes, “You just gotta give it a day or two.”

He only has to give it until later that night, tucked into the couch with a slasher on to ease the ache of his broken heart. On the coffee table, his phone buzzes face down and with a shaky hand he reaches for it, not wanting to be too hopeful. But when your name lights up with a new message he feels his heart leap in his chest.

i’m okay. thanks for checking in.

He lets out a slow breath through an O in his lips. Eddie takes a beat, rings tapping against his phone case before he starts typing his response:

look, idk what’s going through your mind but i really like you. i think i might’ve messed things up here. i’m happy to give you some space if you need but would you wanna talk about this soon?

He stares at the message for a minute or two, heart pounding. There are so many ways you could respond. You could say no, or cuss him out, or tell him to fuck off. You could say you knew he was shit. You could, at the absolute worst, not even respond. He runs his hand over his face, covering his eyes while he presses send and tossing his phone onto the recliner across the room. Out of sight out of mind.

If only for a few minutes when he hears the buzz against the leather.

yeah, we can talk about it. work is kinda busy this week though.

He’d wait for you for months.

would you still wanna come to the beach? steve said he’s still down to pick you up.

yeah, i can still come to the beach

A grin sprawls across his lips, cheeks tight. He can still see you, he can still see you in that red suit. He can still talk to you. You still want to see him. It’s not totally ruined yet.

He hesitates at first, but ultimately sends out the offer.

tatianna and gare will still be away. if you want, you can stay the weekend at mine? maybe we can have a re-do. He watches the three dots bubble in and out of the text conversation, watching as you type something and then delete. Type and delete. Type and delete. It’s only when he hears the tinkling of the standing lamp in the corner of the room that he realizes how hard he’s been bouncing his leg while he waits.

i’ll think about it Well it’s not a no. It’s something. It’s a maybe. It’s a could be.

But if it ends up being a yes, he’ll make it better than what last weekend at yours could’ve been.

The week passed in a slow blur, Monday and Tuesday were a thousand years long – all of his students on his nerves when they caught on that he wasn’t on his phone as much. "Just take the L, Mr. E. You keep looking at your phone. She's obv not gonna text you." "Yeah Munson, you can't have a phone rule for us and then keep looking at yours." "You're giving negative aura points, Mr. E. Just admit you don't actually have any rizz."

He didn't know what any of them meant, but it didn't help the sting. Since Gareth was away there was no band practice on Wednesday, so instead he went to the studio by himself and plugged into the loudest amps he could. Shredding his frustration out through the strings until tears spilled as much as the melodies that leaked from the speakers. Being carried by the frustration that kept building from the way you haven't messaged him or called, from the fear of having to hurt the way he hurt three years ago all over again. From the way this couldn't be it.

By time he finished, his fingertips stung -- raw and red from hours of playing. It still didn't hurt has bad as the lump in his throat. As the dry phone in his pocket.

It’s Thursday afternoon when his phone finally pings and you ask what you should bring for the beach. Time speeds up again. He blinks and it’s Saturday morning, he blinks and he’s sitting behind Steve in his Escalade. He blinks and realizes he wishes he had more time to prepare himself for this, the prepare how to ask you to talk, to prepare for seeing you again after all this. All the rehearsals in his head had fallen away as they drive through your part of town.

“I LIKE A LONG HAIRED THICK REDBONE, OPEN UP HER LEGS, THEN FILET MIGNON THAT PUSSY.” “Oh my god, Steve please don’t say pussy like that.” The car rolls down your street, Robin in the front as always, and Nancy behind Robin. And sure, they could have picked up some of the younger crew but, in Steve’s words – ‘I’ve driven them around enough.’ EveryGirl in the World rumbles achingly loud through the speakers that he just got upgraded, making the leather vibrate under all of them. Lucky for Steve, none of the sound leaks through in your sleepy streets, lazy with the steamy haze of 7:30 in the morning. “I’mma get in an on that pussy, If she let me in, I’mma own that pussy.” “Steve,” Robin groans, “You’re so obnoxious. This is why nobody likes you!” “Everyone likes me – now come ‘ere let me dope you, You should be a dope fiend, your friend’s should call you Dopey. Tell ‘em keep my name out they mouth ‘cause they don’t know me.” “Do you think you sound cool when you rap?” she asks, pulling her sandy hair into a ponytail, “Look in the rearview, do you think you look cool?” Steve’s Ray Bans find the mirror, looking back at Eddie who grins at him while they ease into a stop in front of your place. “My sex game is stupid,” they both start, making Nancy laugh – Robin’s eyes rolling into the back of her head. “You’re both so insufferable,” she groans, but a smile pulls at her soft pink lips.

“My head is the dumbest, I promise – I should be Hooked on Phonics, Hah, well anyway, I think you’re bionic.” “Stop!” Robin shouts, laughing now while Steve tips his sunglasses down his nose and Eddie leans over the seat. Both faces eager with faux sincerity while Nancy giggles in solidarity behind her. “And I don’t think you’re beautiful, I think you’re beyond it.” Steve grins, Eddie unbuckling to get out of the car to get you. “And I just wanna get behind it –” “STEVE!” “And watch you back it up and dump it back, back it up and dump it back…” Eddie looks at your house, a nervous thrum in his chest while he gets out. The last time he was here he watched as you turned your bedroom light out after making him leave. You didn’t even respond to his ‘excited to see you, tomorrow’ text last night. You just ‘hearted’ it. He gets to your door ringing the bell and waiting for you, feeling as sheepish and awkward as a kid on a first date. When you open the door he can hear his heart beat in his ears. "Hey," he says quietly, "G'morning." "Morning," you say back. You both smile tightly at each other and then both of your gazes reach the ground. Eddie thinks to lean in and reach for you but retracts, you still feel so far away from him. The familiarity from before -- from Barcade, from showing up at your house last week -- long gone. A stranger he's meeting for the first time. He wonders if the group can even sense it from the car.

“Can I get those for you?” he asks, seeing you hoist your beach bag over your shoulder, a mini cooler in your other hand. “No, it’s fine,” you wave him off as you walk through the door, shutting it behind you. He rolls his eyes, easing the bag off of your shoulder and the cooler out of your hand.

With how things feel, he doesn’t want to get his hopes up and ask if you packed to stay with him for the weekend. But the weight of your bags gives him a soft flutter of ease in his chest that he might get a chance to fix this afterall. "Go ahead and get in the car," he says softly, "Everyone's excited to see you."

He watches you get in while he settles your bags amongst the others in the trunk, everyone says their hellos and he begs for it to not be weird considering they all know what's going on. Nancy takes a cue to move to the bench seat further back so you can sit next to each other, Eddie offering her a grateful nod when he gets back in behind Steve.

“Alright, so now that we’re all accounted for we’re playing a game,” Steve says, turning the music down, “One by one we’re gonna pick our songs of the summer from when we were kids. We're going summer mode.”

“That’s cute,” Nancy smiles, “That’s a cute idea you have there, Steve.”

He shrugs one shoulder, dropping his Raybans down his nose to look at her, “Only cute ideas from the cutest guy here.”

“Alright, relax,” Eddie grumbles when Steve steps on the gas, arms crossing over his chest. You’re looking at your phone, probably checking to see what song you want to pick, but he wishes you were looking at him. Half of him wants to reach over and rest his hand on your thigh like you’re his, but right now he knows you’re not. He slides his phone out from his pocket, shooting you a text at an attempt to try and salvage the car ride.

hey. you look really pretty.

He watches you while you look at the notification banner pop up on the screen, a soft smile flickers across your face when you open it. Eddie’s phone buzzes in response.

thanks, you too.

And he does look pretty – black shorts and a cut off Hawkins, IN t-shirt from some time in the early 90s. Well worn but still starchy. His tattoos bounce off his skin, a thin little heart outline peeking out from the top of his jeans, wallet chain still shining and silver. He had his hair pulled back messy, bangs and tendrils still flowing in his face – but for the first time you get to really see the curves and slopes of his jaw line, the tension in his neck. He blushes, putting his arm on the back of your seat, close enough where he doesn’t think he’s pushing it. Sunny Came Home flows through the speakers of the car.

“Pristine choice, Rob,” Eddie nods, “Damn.”

“Right in the chest, right?” Robin scrunches her nose, “Like sitting in your mom’s back seat on the way home from the grocery store in July or something.”

Steve’s pick is unsurprising, Nelly’s Ride Wit Me shaking the car while he pulls onto the highway. You skip over yourself, unsure at what to pick, passing the phone to Nancy behind you who settles on Sheryl Crowe’s Everyday Is A Winding Road. Eddie loves how easy it is for you to fit in, like you’ve always been a part of the group – screaming the lyrics with Nancy and Robin so loud that Steve opens his window to let the sound leak out.

When Eddie get’s the phone he smirks, typing in his choice before passing it back to Steve who chuckles when he presses play.

“Oh yes,” Robin laughs when the opening riff of Santana’s Smooth booms against the leather interior, “You would.” “Of course I would,” Eddie grins, tossing you a look for your approval. You nod back at him, mouthing along with the lyrics, rolling and shimmying your shoulders to match Robin’s dancing in the front. He gulps silently, knowing that there’s still a conversation to be had. Do you always hide your disappointment like this? Are you over it? Are you okay? And if you are -- why does it feel like this? Like you don't want his attention? Like you don't want him to touch you? 'Cause it's all he can think about with you next to him, looking pretty the way that you do. Looking perfect. Feeling like an old sweatshirt he wants to be covered in. “It’s the same as the emotion that I get from you, You got the kind of lovin' that can be so smooth, yeah Give me your heart, make it real, or else forget about it.” He doesn’t notice at first that his fingers twitch along with the chords when the solar starts. "Wait, tell her the story about Wayne banning this song from your life," Robin says, turning back towards the two of you behind her. "Banned from his life?" you ask in surprise, but your attention is on Robin, "Does he just really not like Rob Thomas?"

Eddie rolls his eyes, biting his lower lip before recounting why it's banned from ever playing at Forest Hills, “I was obsessed when I was little. Sat in my bedroom for weeks listening to it over and over so I could teach myself by ear. Wayne – my uncle – he told me I could never listen to it again. He threw my stereo out the window that summer, he was so pissed – so sick of it, and then got even more mad that he had to buy me a new one. But I had to promise to never play it again at his house for as long as he was alive. And no one else is allowed to play it at the park either.”

“Can you still do the solo?” you ask, eyes finally landing on him. His breath hitches when your eyes meet, mouth going dry.

“Oh yeah,” his voice cracks awkwardly, fingers still playing an air guitar on his lap, “Learned to play a lot of his stuff when I was a teenager. John Mayer too, if you can believe it.” “Very toxic soft boy of you,” you tease. “Listen sugar, it was a hit with the ladies,” his voice is soft, but still teasing -- desperate to recreate the banter you've had over the past few weeks. You get nervous, he can tell by the way your knee bounces and a flick of another smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. Sugar, he thinks, s’that all it takes? When you get the phone you make your pick, certain of it now. Steve nods in agreement when he presses play on Aaliyah’s Are You That Somebody? “I knew I liked her,” Steve says, catching him in the rearview again, “She better be sticking around.”

Eddie is silently thankful for the encouragement.

The rest of the surrounding towns must’ve had a similar idea because the first half of the beach was full by the time you got there despite the early wake up. Steve’s SUV strolls down the expansive parking lot while It’s Gonna Be Me plays, the boys and Robin screlting along with the music – singing into the straws of their iced coffees. The bridge hits near the end and he doesn’t want to be obnoxious but he does want to impress you so he hits the runs where he can. ‘Don’t wanna lose it, but I’m not li-ii-ke that, When finally, finally, You get to lo-oo-ve, Guess what, guess what…’ Steve finally finds parking and you all hop out onto the asphalt, the sun already hot on your skin. The woosh of hot air hits his face, catching against the nervous sweat on his forehead and neck. Macho is as macho does, Eddie and Steve make their way to the trunk, taking all of the coolers and bags of beach games while leaving the chairs to the ladies.

“We brought you an extra,” Eddie smiles, “In case you didn’t have one.” “I brought you an extra,” Steve corrects, eyes falling on you from behind his Ray Bans, “You can thank me later, angel.”

“You do not have to thank him,” Eddie scrunches his nose while you all walk to the wood planked entrance covered in sand. This area was at least less crowded but far from the bathrooms and food stalls by the front of the parking lot. He can feel your eyes on him, following the way his cut off shirt rides up revealing the end of a snake and sword tattoo off his side and oblique. Lingering on the top of his jeans, on the ways his biceps and forearms flex at every move of the load he’s holding. He swallows hard, suddenly so aware of himself and what he looks like – do you like it? Do you think he looks good?

The blankets get placed and so do the chairs, Steve and Nancy expertly get the umbrella in – she reads the directions out loud and Steve does what she says as she says it. When everything is settled you kick off your sandals and put it by your canvas tote, taking out your sunglasses. Eddie sits on the blanket below you, watching you get yourself together. You reach for the bottom of your shirt, a tee from some time in your life when he didn’t know you. Eddie’s mouth falls open when you pull it up over your head; his tongue curls up in his mouth when he sees the soft arch in your back, the way your breasts press up against the edge of your suit. That red suit.

He licks his lips absentmindedly, unable to look at you when you start taking your shorts off because if he watches the jiggle your ass and thighs he won’t be able to deal. He’s lucky he’s wearing aviators big enough to cover his saucer like eyes – embarrassed by the way his body react like some teenager reading a Playboy. He's a grown man for god's sakes.

“H-hey Rob,” his voice cracks awkwardly, “You uh, um, you wanna check out the water?” “Yeah, gimme one sec,” she calls out, tossing her hair up in a claw clip from her back pack. “That’s mine,” Nancy argues, “How long have you had that?!” Robin shrugs, “Long enough that you didn’t miss it.” “You do this every time you come over. You always steal something,” she huffs, Robin popping her gum between her teeth in response.

"It's a little something to remember you by, Nance," she shrugs with a smirk. “You wanna come?” he asks you, shrugging off his shorts and throwing his trunks over his boxer briefs. “Not yet, want it to get a little hot before I check it out,” you explain, taking your sunscreen out. He huffs a laugh, trying a hand at being flirty despite the distance he feels between you, “Well, to be honest sugar, you’re already lookin’ pretty h–” “Don’t embarrass yourself,” Robin breathes, patting him on the back, “Let’s go.”

He takes a look back at you smiling at you over his shoulder, “I’ll be right back.” “I’ll be here,” you wave him off while you start to spray your sunscreen on your arms. He turns back towards the water, crashing in waves and sliding up the shore. The sun kissed his skin over his crop, still not ready to take it off yet.

“You gonna make it, Ed?” Robin asks, bumping her shoulder against his, "You're fumbling bad. She looks good."

“I just – fuck Rob,” he shakes his head, looking down at their feet while they step over shells and seaweed on the bank above the shore, “It feels ruined. Like she came to like, to check to see if she still likes me."

“I don’t know what it is. It just doesn't feel easy like it was before,” he shrugs, “How I’m supposed to bring up last weekend or like, how to talk to her anymore.” “She seems totally fine,” Robin says with a look, “Maybe you’re just over thinking it.” “She seems totally fine with you guys but I don’t know – it feels like for me there’s a wall there. Like the insane connection we had before just doesn’t matter because I’m a dumbass. Maybe this should’ve just been a fling and after today we’ll just end it,” he rambles on, “Am I making sense?”

“You are making sense,” she agrees, “But I don't think you ruined it. I think you're being kind of down on yourself about it and you're doing it on purpose." "What does that even mean?" he snaps. "It means, she wouldn't have come if she didn't want to work it out with you. Like, why would she come hang out for the day with your friends if she wasn't trying to make an effort to fix things?" "Well I mean--" "Not done," she says, putting her hand up, "And further, I think one little hint of something not going totally perfect makes you so afraid that you're gonna get hurt bad like with Chrissy. And it's clear that you really like this girl -- like, really like her. And that freaks you out, so you don't want to go through the motions of fixing it just in case things go left a second time."

“It doesn’t freak me out,” he shuts it down quickly but he knows she’s right, sighing when he considers it, “Maybe it does. Maybe it's scaring me that I'm already thinking about her like that.”

“Like what?”

“I dunno, like I wanna be with her. Like really with her,” he shrugs while they step into the foaming leftovers of a wave receding. The water is freezing, not yet warmed up from the heat of summer since the ninety degree weather is such a mid-spring surprise.

“Fuck!” they both hiss in unison, stepping ankle deep into the water.

“Be with her like…marry her?” she asks, crystal blue eyes squinting into the horizon, "You sure you're not simultaneously thinking too far ahead?"

“Maybe,” he says, pulling his hair out of its ponytail and shaking it out at the root. The curls at the base of his neck already starting to get tight and coiled with sweat.

“I should probably start by being her boyfriend first,” he laughs. "You should probably start by working through this little snag first," she corrects, "You can be her boyfriend some other time." "Not all of us want a perpetual 'will they, won't they' relationship like two idiots in bikinis that I know," Eddie teases her, pulling his hair back up in the scrunchy he also stole from Nancy when they went to her house for a movie night.

“Don’t let Wheeler see you with that,” she warns, reaching out for his hand while they turn back towards the sand. Eddie takes it, savoring the reassuring squeeze she offers in understanding.

“What’s she gonna do, Buckley?” Eddie raises a brow, “Eat me out about it?”

“Don’t be a fucking asshole,” Robin snorts, letting go to give him a shove in the shoulder while sand kicks of from their heels.

Back where the towels and beach blankets are set up, you’re on your stomach, leaning your head to one side in a conversation with Nancy that has you giggling with each other. He nudges Robin with his shoulder who nudges him back. He wonders if Robin feels the same way about Nancy as he feels about you. He wonders if Robin will ever tell her.

“How’s the water?” Nance asks, propping her chin up on the heel of her hand.

“Freezing,” Eddie grimaces, “Like, bone chilling.” “I’m not surprised,” you shrug, “It’s not real hot yet.” “Just fake hot?” he asks back. “Yeah, just fake hot,” you agree with a scrunch of your nose. Still quick.

Nervously, he makes the commitment of pulling off the cut off tee he came in, never normally thinking much about his body until you were right there in front of him but lightyears away. Eddie didn’t think he looked bad, but compared to Steve’s tanned, defined chest and abs he thought maybe he left more to be desired. It had kind of always felt like that, he thought, even when he was married. He wanted to feel like someone worth bragging about, and by the end of his relationship with Chrissy – she wasn’t really doing much bragging. With the way he could feel your eyes on him earlier, he was more self conscious now than he had been in years. He folds it up the shity nice, tossing it down on the beach blanket by you before sitting down and fishing into his bag for some sun screen. He’s meticulous with it over his tattoos, standing back up to get the snake and sword on his oblique fully covered.

“This is kind of cliche but would you be down to get my back?” he asks hopefully, turning toward you, “I can do yours.”

“Steve did mine,” you reply, face quirking from behind your sunglasses. “Oh um, wow,” he tries to shake it off, but the comment stings.Thinking about Steve having his hands on you in this suit before he ever even got the chance.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” you assure, “Nancy got my back, but I can do yours.” He frowns, “Don’t joke like that, please.”

You get quiet and nod, taking the sunscreen from him. “Sorry,” you say in a whisper. Miles away. He wants to apologize for your apology.

You’re gentle when you rub the sunscreen onto his back, taking extra care of the ink on his shoulder blade flowing down and wrapping into the tattoos on his ribcage. You can tell by the depth of the ink that he takes good care of them, feeling him relax under your touch. Eddie leans his head to the side while you continue, seeing two girls making their way down the sandy banks just by where their crew was set up. They lay out their towels while awkwardly trying to get their umbrella in place – laughing while they keep getting it wrong. When you’re done with his back, he thanks you softly – happy to see that you settle back down next to him.

“How long do you think it’s gonna take them to finally get it in?” you ask. If he was a stupid boy he’d say ‘That’s what she said’, but he’s not so–

“That’s what she said,” Steve jokes. Eddie turns to see that Steve’s lifted up his Raybans, enjoying the show as the girls dig and shove their umbrella into the sand – losing sight of one of their towels now blowing over in the wind.

“Come the fuck on,” one of them groans, but they are laughing too hard to be mad, too hard to grip the umbrella tight enough. It’s not lost on Eddie that Steve is watching because the girl with the umbrella in her hands, with her black suit and cat eye sunglasses, is nearly bursting out of her bathing suit top with a cleavage that even makes his own eyes widen.

“Be right back,” Steve says, getting up out of his beach chair. “Don’t be embarrassing,” Robin begs, “Please.” Steve flips her off while he walks by her, taking a few more steps past the beach blankets and running a hand through his chestnut hair.

“Ahoy ladies!” he calls out, “Need a hand?”

“Ew,” Robin mumbles, “He’s so weird.”

“He’s gonna come back with both of their numbers, just watch,” Nancy says, “Every time.”

“Is he really that much of a ladies man?” you ask, “He’s kind of – I don’t know. He’s kind of goofy.”

Eddie laughs hard, Nancy and Robin joining in. Hard belly laughs. Not because of just the question, but the way you asked it. The genuine curiosity, the admission of how you felt. It was the exact thing Steve needed to hear, a shame he wasn’t around to hear it. It’s here that he knows he needs to just bite the bullet and work things out because you’re so sweet. You’re so – you’re just so you.

“Don’t worry, we don’t get it either,” Nancy laughs, wiping her eyes.

“Ooh, I needed that, that was good,” Robin breathes, “But you’re right, he’s super goofy.”

Steve had come back an hour later, putting together their entire set up and taking some time to sit and talk to him. Without fail, he sat back down in his beach chair with two new numbers in his phone; breaking into one of the Yeti coolers and pulling out the canned mixed drinks he packed en-masse.

“Whose partaking?” he asks, holding one up. It’s only 11 AM but hot weekends are a means for day drinking, and if anyone needs to take the edge off it’s Eddie Munson. Between the awkward half smiles and some back and forth and the way his heart dips and leaps at any given moment while next to you, he’d take any relaxer he can get.

You all grab a drink, and he watches fondly as you talk about beach reads with Nancy and Robin. Sitting in the sand while the three of you make semi sand castles with each of your cans in dug out cup holders. He admires the way the sun bounces off your shoulders and tries to not admire the way your suit rides up on your hips. He doesn’t want to fix things just on account of being horny.

Eddie checks his phone for signs of life from Gareth and Tati – they sent a few photos from Flamingo Island. Tatianna feeding the birds while looking like a supermodel and Gareth keeping a distance from the birds while looking awkward and pale. Another, a live photo of a selfie of Tatianna glowing with the beach in the background. Eddie holds his thumb on the picture, letting it play to Gare reaching over from behind to kiss her on the cheek. He smiles, watching them be in love through the photos, eyes flicking from you to them. Wondering when you’ll both be next.

Robin sparks a pre-roll and you all sneakily split it like kids hiding from the cops. When you pass it to him, your fingers brush, and he can’t help but flash a bright smile at you while he takes it.

“Thanks, sugar,” he drops his voice purposely, watching as your posture changes – a fluster running through you.

“You’re welcome,” you mumble, going back to your sand and conversation.

Eddie pulls his notebook out, a hybrid for a DnD and lesson plan scrap paper for when he thinks of something fun to do that the board will say no to. He takes their no and does it anyway, it’s not like they check.

He gets up from the beach blanket, opting to set up his chair under the umbrella to get a break from the sun and so he can see the paper in the bright light. Some time passes and he’s knee deep in planning a new campaign when from above the notepad you’d made your way back from the sand, settling back down.

“I want fries so bad,” you complain.

“There’s a stand at the end of the beach,” he offers.

“I don’t want to go get fries,” you sigh, “I would like the fries to be here already.” He licks his lips nervously before closing the notebook over his thumb, “I’ll go with you.”

You look up at him from your spot on the blanket and he looks down at you, both knowing that being alone together will only bring upon the inevitable. Maybe you both need to grow up.

“Um,” you hesitate before nodding, “Yeah, yeah okay. Let me just get my shorts on.”

Eddie puts his notebook away, grabbing his wallet and putting it into the pocket of his trunks before slipping his shoes back on. You throw on your shorts, sliding into your sandals reaching for your bag.

“You don’t need your bag,” he says gently, “I got it for you.”

You smile, it’s small, “Oh, well – thanks.” “C’mon,” he says, ticking his head back toward the planked walkway for an easy walk back up to the asphalt. As you walk ahead of him, Robin, Steve, and Nance all exchange glances knowingly. Robin offers him a thumbs up before he turns around, following you up the beach.

Without the buffer of everyone else, the tension feels worse. He’s not sure whether to reach for you, but when you tuck your hands in your shorts pockets it becomes obvious that you don’t want him to hold your hand.

“Weather’s pretty wild, huh?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you nod. Your shoulders bump while you keep walking, not continuing the conversation but muttering a soft apology when you collide.

Eddie sighs, a little too audibly because your shoulders sulk a bit when he lets out the last of the breath. He can��t really take this anymore, biting his cheeks for resolve and guiding you over to the concrete barrier that separates the boardwalk from the beach.

“Look,” he begins, voice shaking, “Before we get fries we – we really need to talk about the other night.”

“I said it was fine,” you respond, but you don’t meet his eye. Your tone lacks energy, like you’re just trying to push it away; but he doesn’t want that. His rings clink against the concrete when he pats the top, “Sit.”

When you oblige, he stands between your knees, “It’s not fine. You were really upset. I wanna talk about it.”

“It’s stupid, it doesn’t matter,” you reply, your eyes landing on his shoulder, looking at the people walking past him, “I’ll get over it.” He tentatively puts a hand on your leg, letting his thumb run over your soft skin. A rush runs through him when you don’t pull away, soothingly running his hand back and forth.

“It matters to me,” he says, moving his head so he can catch your gaze. It’s clear now that whatever is part of your own tragic lore has a lot to do with how you approach stuff like this; how you don’t really want to tell him that he hurt your feelings.

“Is it because of me talking about my ex?” he asks.

You’re quiet for a few minutes and he’s patient, watching you mull over the night in your head and finding the courage to let the words out. His hand travels from your thigh to where your hand rests on the barrier, interlocking your fingers with his.

“She’s just so pretty,” you say, voice strained with emotion – weak like you’re swallowing a cry, “And I don’t look like that.”

“I don’t want you to look like that,” he says gently.

“It’s not just that…it’s just – I –” you roll your eyes at your own ridiculousness, “I just…I’ve been the rebound a lot, before my ex. Always for people whose partner before looked like your ex-wife, and was perfect, and pretty, and graceful, and all of the nice things you said she was. And I’m sure she’s great, I really believe you.” He squeezes your hand with gentleness while you continue.

“I just don’t want to like you this much just to be your rebound,” you confess, “And I know you said you like me and that what we’ve been doing so far has been so good, but that’s like – that’s how it always starts out. These guys will act like I’m so great for them just to y’know – toss me when they get what they need. And you just sort of went from talking about how amazing and caring she is to like – talking about my body.”

His brows crinkle, a frown pulling on his lips, “Why didn’t you tell me I was making you feel like that when I asked?”

“I didn’t want you to be mad,” you mumble, a crackle in your tone, “Or tell me I was being stupid or get defensive because I just…I didn’t want to ruin it. But I – I ruined it anyway.”

“No, no,” he shakes his head, taking his sunglasses off, round eyes pleading to you, “Sweetheart you didn’t ruin it. I’m – I’m sorry you didn’t feel like you could tell me. I wouldn’t have been mad.”

“I just really don’t wanna get hurt,” you plead, “I don’t want to waste my time.” “You’re not I – babe, I don’t wanna get hurt either,” he sighs, “But you’re not a rebound. It’s…it’s been three years since I even considered seeing someone seriously. That’s not what I’m looking for. I already told you that night after Barcade how much I like you.”

“Yeah but people say a lot of things just to get laid,” you shrug.

His chest deflates, “Is that really what you think of me?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, “Maybe we just don’t really know each other yet.”

It dawns on him slowly, you don’t really know each other yet. He knows how he feels about you, and how it feels like he’s known you his whole life. But he doesn’t know your ins and outs and you don’t know his – there’s a patience and excitement about the idea of learning it all.

“I don’t just wanna sleep with you,” he says earnestly, “Hell I was – I was so nervous to kiss you at Little Spoon, and even after Steve’s birthday…I – I’ve been thinking about you for weeks. And when things went left y’know I just – I was waitin’ by the phone for you to say something. I didn’t wanna push because I figured maybe you needed a minute.” “But sugar, I really felt awful,” he continues, letting his hands cup your cheeks, “I really was scared that you just decided you were done with me.”

“I don’t wanna be done with you,” you say through squished cheeks.

“I don’t wanna be done with you, either,” he says, “Cause getting started has been really great so far.”

“I still really like you,” you profess.

“I’m kind of obsessed with you,” he laughs breathily.

“Yeah, I know,” you laugh, almost a little teary, “I tell you all the time.”

“I’m gonna kiss you now, okay?” he asks, running his tongue over his lips.

“Okay.” With his hands on your cheeks, he pulls you into him, letting his nose brush your first before pressing his lips against yours – no longer rubbery and despondent in their response. He feels weightless, not even caring about the people walking by who might be staring when he slips his tongue into your mouth. Kissing you feels more right than ever. Kissing you feels like coming home.

When he breaks away, breathless, his eyes coast over your features, “Shit…”

“What?”

“I just…I really fucking like you.”

You lean forward to bless him with a kiss again, he doesn’t think he’ll ever be afraid to steal one from you whenever he wants now.

You continued your talk on the remainder of the walk to get fries, explaining your insecurities that he quelled with each thought that passed your lips. He confessed to the tears in his Honda and how he didn’t mean to come off so in love when talking about Chrissy – just that she was important to him, and that part of him will love her in a fond way, always. You confess you have a few people like that in your life too, but you’ll talk about that in ‘another episode’. He lets you know you only have to talk about things when you’re ready.

On the way back, you hold hands, Eddie holding the bag with your fries in the other. He presses kisses to your temple and cheek every few intervals – laughing at you when you stop at the sound of Return of the Mack to hit a groove.

“Truthfully, this is one of my favorite songs of all time,” you tell him, “And I played it all week to try to make myself feel better.”

“Did you dance like this in your house each time?”

“I did.”

“I’m sad I missed it, I could’ve used a laugh,” he teases.

“You’re very cruel,” you concede, hip bumping him while you continue on, “You’d die to have me give you a lap dance.”

His ears turn pink at the thought, “Heh, well um…well if you’re offering…”

“It’s on the table,” you shrug, giving his hand a squeeze.

“It can be anywhere, sweetheart – table, chair, in space – you name it I —”

He stops when he notices the way a guy looks at you as he walks by, eyes scanning from the top of your head down to your thighs. Eddie’s head tilts, following the guys vision even as you pass – the man getting a good look as your ass with abandon.

“Hey,” Eddie snaps, a touch of pride swelling in his chest. The guy looks up and meets his eye.

“Yeah, you,” he continues, holding eye contact with a furrowed brow, “See somethin’ you like, chief?”

“Listen man, I’m not startin’ trouble here I was – I was just –”

“You were just walkin’ the other way,” Eddie finishes for him, “Get fuckin’ lost.”

You tuck your lips into your teeth, while Eddie guides you away, hand wrapping around you to slide from your waist to your ass with a firm squeeze before settling in your shorts back pocket. You turn to look at him while you walk and he shakes his head.

“Don’ look at me like that,” he huffs a laugh, grinning slightly, “Look, this is my ass.”

“Well, technically it’s my ass but um, y’know, whatever you say,” you respond, a little breathy. He remembers the way you mentioned tipsily at the bar that you liked that streak in him. And if anything this true now, after these conversations, he wants everyone to know you’re his. He’s not playing around.

When you get back to the group there’s another set of blankets next to yours, and a collection of more friends that you remember from Steve’s party.

“Oh, hey freaks,” Eddie chimes when they all say their cheery hellos to the both of you. He nods at Erica in respect, “Miss Applejack.”

“Nerd,” she hums out, fishing out a Nerf howler from Steve’s bag to play with Max and Lucas. Steve, of course, is back over making a fool of himself by the girls from earlier while Nancy, Robin, Dustin play cards. Mike, who you haven’t met, is stuck in a book under the umbrella.

“What’re you reading Wheeler?” Eddie asks, taking you hand in hand back to the blanket to sit down.

“It’s called The Ethical Slut,” he murmurs, “Me and El are practicing Ethical Non Monogamy while she’s in LA with Will.”

“Practicing what?” he asks through a mouthful of fry.

“Ethical non-monogamy,” he sighs, peering over the pages, “My guys at Oberlin were telling me about it. It’s like, it’s like being open.”

Eddie pulls a face and take the book out of his hand, hitting him in side of the head with it, “Don’t be fuckin’ weird, dude.”

“It’s not – ugh it’s not weird, you’re just old and don’t get it,” he sighs.

“You’re old and don’t get it, tool,” Eddie clicks his tongue, “This is why you’re both always fighting.”

“Oh my god, we’re not always fighting we just–” “Alright twerps, meet my friends,” Steve says with a game show host smile, hands showing off the two girls from before. They introduce themselves, everyone going around to offer their names, too.

“And over there is Lucas, Max, and Erica,” Steve says, pointing at the three closer to the edge of the shore. He motions for them to sit, offering them drinks from the coolers while they make themselves comfortable.

“I think we should play never have I ever so we can all get to know each other,” Steve offers, sitting between the two women who giggle whenever he looks at them. Clear from the look on their faces that he definitely snuck one of Robin’s pre-rolls over to spark up before bringing them to the group.

“No, Steve, we’re not playing that,” Eddie waves the suggestion off like a bad smell.

“How come?” you ask with a laugh.

“Cause we’re in our fuckin’ 30s, what is this, a high school beach party?”

“You just don’t like it ‘cause you always lose,” Steve teases, catching your eye, “He’s a sore loser, angel.”

“I believe this,” you nod.

“Okay, well, I still said what I said,” Eddie huffs.

“There’s no way, look, I’ll start with an easy one,” you offer, “Never have I ever um…spent a weekend in jail.”

Eddie scowls with a gravelly sigh, bringing a beer to his lips. Steve barks a laugh, “See, I told you – sore loser.”

Max, Lucas, and Erica come back to the blankets when they see the newcomers sitting with the group. Max tosses Robin and look and Eddie knows that means they’ll be double teaming to make sure Steve looks like a tool at every given moment. Lucas asks if it’s a round of ‘Never Have I Ever’ and everyone excitedly agrees except for Eddie whose stewing, and Mike whose chest deep in his book.

“Okay, we don’t have to play,” you soothe, running your hand over his bicep, “But damn, you spent a weekend in jail?”

“I have spent,” he sighs, taking another sip of beer, “A lot of weekends in jail, sweetheart.”

“Like – for bad stuff?”

“Like, for stupid shit,” he explains, “I was a dumb kid, it was all dumb shit. But yeah, I got a little record. Nothing crazy enough to keep me from teaching.”

“Sooo mysterious,” you tease, laying down on your back while you snag a fry from the back, “Very bad boy of Dawson’s Creek.”

“Mean,” he glares playfully, laying next to you, “Tell me somethin’ I don’t know about you, then.”

“Hmm,” you think, turning to look him over, “I am lifeguard and WSI certified.”

“WSI?”

“Water safety instructor,” you answer, “I teach swim lessons. Well used to.”

“You know like, first aid and stuff?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you nod excitedly, “Like CPR and stuff.”

“Hm,” he hums, leaning on his side, propping his head up, “Like you could give me mouth to mouth?”

“Don’t be horny and gross,” you laugh, “I could save your life.” “It would save my life to have your mouth on my mouth, I promise,” he says with a hint of seriousness.

“Tell me somethin’ else I don’t know about you, jailbird,” you prompt, matching his posture.

“Ummm, ah!” he snaps, “I um, I speak Spanish.” Your brows furrow, “Like, fluently?”

“Sí, con fluidez,” he smirks.

“Show off,” you grin.

“Ooh, you think it’s hot, don’t you?” he laughs, “You think I’m so sexy.”

“You’re somethin’,” you sigh, “How’d you get fluent in Spanish?”

“I took it in high school and college,” he shrugs, “But I worked at a pretty authentic Colombian restaurant for like, five years while teaching before getting to the private school. I was in the kitchen and all the guys spoke Spanish so I sorta committed. And y’know, a lot of my kids’ parents speak Spanish so it’s helpful to be able to communicate with them too. I don’t wanna lose it, so I practice a lot.”

“Look at you,” you encourage, “What else would surprise me?”

“Oh I don’t know,” he shrugs, feeding you a fry, “Maybe – hmm – I love Sza.” “The singer?” you ask through a mouthful.

“Yes,” he nods, “She’s my celebrity pass I’m, wow, I love her. She’s so fine. But also, I dig her sound – Ctrl is one of my favorite albums of all time. We even do a cover of The Weekend at our sets sometimes.”

“How does that work? Like, is it just a screamo version?”

“Screamo? Don’t disrespect me like that,” he holds a hand to his chest over his silver chains, “We’re a metal band, baby.” “Sorry, please excuse me. Like, is it just a metal version?” you repeat back with a little bite. He rests the tip of his tongue by the sharp point of his canine when he smiles at you, flicking over your face before looking back into your eyes.

“It’s kind of a Deftones-y version,” he shrugs.

“Oh,” you nod, “Okay.”

“What?”

“Nothin’ just, would really like to hear that someday,” but there’s something in the way you say it, “Did you ever record it?”

“Might’ve? Maybe just rehearsals,” he shrugs, “If we did, it’s somewhere on my hard drive.” “Well, maybe we can find it later.” “Later?” he asks, eyes glittering with excitement, “You’re – you’re gonna come over?”

“Yeah, I – I packed a little extra just in case,” you giggle. He knew he was right, that feeling in his gut when he took your bag. He was gonna give you the re-do of a the century.

“We’ll look for it when we get home and you can listen,” he promises. “It’d be cool to hear it live one day,” you suggest. He makes a note to put it back in rotation for the summer set list; even though they put the cover to bed some time last year.

“You wanna see me play?”

“Of course,” you nod, “You’re gonna be a famous rockstar, remember? We went over this.”

“You’re right,” he nods back, leaning forward, tucking a fingertip under your chin, “I remember.”

You both ignore the coos and aws from the group as he leans in to kiss you.

‘After sun sleepy’ is what you called it in the car as the group of you piled in, the weight of the day heavy on your eyelids. Salt and sand coated both of you, a soft tinge of pink glowed off of Eddie’s shoulders where the sunscreen couldn’t hold out any longer. The ride home was less eventful than the ride there, everyone tuckered out and sun soaked from the day’s activities. Steve gave you both some parting teasing once you let him know he didn’t have to drop you off at your house once he pulled up in front of Eddie’s.

“Use protection,” he calls out from the window.

“Bye,” Eddie calls back out, “Don’t ever come back.”

He’s much cooler about opening the door this time around, not speedily trying to get things done before the party made it back to his. No count down for when you had to leave. He has the rest of the night and all of tomorrow to have you to himself. This time he could take it slow, take his time, you could both relax. “I need to shower,” you mumble, slipping your sandals off in the entryway. “We can shower,” he nods, placing the beach bags down next to his Vans – he’ll deal with that later. You turn around on the balls of your feet, smirking while your arms fold across your chest. He tries to ignore the way your boobs push in and up, the top curve of tour cleavage making him feel dumb.

“We?” you ask.

“Uhh,” he coughs to buy time, smirking to himself behind his hand, “I just – um – I don’t know. I don’t know why I said that. Why I said it like that.”

You laugh, watching him sputter, “I think I know why you said it like that.”

“Look,” he puts his hands up, “It may or may not have been something I’ve been thinking about at night when I’m trying to avoid grading papers. That’s all.”

He guides you to the bathroom, stopping at the small closet down the hall to grab you both towels and washcloths; fresh from the dryer this morning. It’s when you’re both standing on the tile floor, water running, that he realizes what’s next and he’s…well, he’s nervous.

He holds his breath while you take down your shorts, thumbs looping into the straps of your bathing suit to start pulling it down. He braces himself, watching some sand come down with the red fabric while you tug it further over your chest, down your stomach until it’s on the floor. Every inch of you available for him to see, and it doesn’t feel like the horny sexual guttural reveal he has imagined it to be. It feels different, eyes scanning over you, your decolletage, your breasts, the peak of your nipples, the dimples in your skin just above your stomach. Your belly, your thighs, the smattering of cellulite where they meet, following all the way down to your toes. Eddie regards you like a painting, like something too sacred to touch. A tug pulls in his ribcage, butterflies in his stomach, throat getting tight where he almost wants to cry. You’re so beautiful, he thinks. So beautiful that it’s unfair.

“Wow…” he whispers, delicate and subdued. A smile spreads across your face, so bright and genuine that he melts.

“I’m guessing that’s a good wow,” you infer, pulling back the shower curtain to step in. He catches a glimpse at the back of you, sucking in a breath at the curve of your thighs and hips, meeting to prop up a butt cheek while one foot stays on the lip of the tub.

“Yeah, yeah it’s um, it’s a really good wow,” he answers, albeit dumbly.

“You coming in, too?” you ask, stepping fully behind the curtain.

“Yep, yeah,” Eddie nods, hurrying back to himself only to feel the aching tension in his pants. He groans internally, humiliation bubbling in his belly like he got called on in class to come to the board. This was going to happen eventually, right? You were going to see it eventually? So why is it so weird thinking about being in the shower with you. You know he has one, it’s not weird, it’s not…a surprise.

Just take your pants of, Munson, c’mon, he urges to himself. He awkwardly shimmies his trunks down, folding down the boxer briefs beneath them where sand had collected uncomfortably in side.

Sand in my fucking ball sack and now I have to go stand in the shower with her? Are you kidding? he grumbles internally. His shirt gets pulled over his head and he’s face to face with himself in the mirror over the sink. A dusting of freckles forming on his shoulders in the soft pink of the mild sunburn, a little burn on the bridge of his nose. Tattoos vibrant against skin that just never seems to get enough sun.

Eddie leaves his rings in Tatianna’s jewelry bowl that they started to share when Tatianna taught him that his jewelry will last longer if he stops showering with it on. As his silver chains drizzle in next to his rings, he takes a breath, turning toward the shower curtain where he can already smell his body wash wafting through the steam.

“Did you start without me?” he asks, fingers taking in the fabric.

“You’re taking forever, and I hate feeling sandy,” you respond. He steps in, the warm water hitting his toes, seeing yours where the suds hit to go down the train. When he looks up to see you, he gulps – not only naked, but naked and soapy.

Jesus Christ, he sighs in his head. Any sense of calming down his cock had long since passed now.

“Sorry,” he says quietly, hand covering himself while he steps in.

“It’s okay,” you assure, turning your head to look at him from over your shoulder. Eddie’s cheeks redden when he watches you scan over him, a satisfied smile pulling your cheeks toward your eyes, “Hey, you.”

“Hey,” he chokes out, the ease of talking to you and getting you flustered is suddenly harder than it’s ever been before. With a nervous step forward, he reaches for your hips, bruised and rough fingertips sliding over your skin from his assault on his guitar earlier this week. Eddie gulps when he steps fully behind you, his length pressing flat against him between the two of you with a friction that makes both get a hitch in your breath.

He leans in to print a kiss on your shoulder, a waft of cedar, bergamot, and vetiver on your skin. Another kiss and he leans his forehead against it while you both stand in the stream of the water.

“You are…” he trails off, taking a shuddering inhale, “You are so, so beautiful.”

One hand stays on your hip while to other travels up to your waist, to just under your breasts. Slipping and sliding on the soap and water mixing on your skin with left over sunscreen to be washed down the drain.

“Thank you,” you murmur, headiness deepening your voice. Neither of you move too quickly, letting him press kisses over you before finally kissing your lips to switch sides in the shower. He lathers up and you see it. Your brows raising in surprise while he lets the water soak his curls.

“What?” he asks with a cheeky grin.

“You know what,” you laugh.

“No, I don’t know what,” it’s a tease and he knows that, but it’s still fun to watch you get like this.

“You weren’t lying when you said – when you y’know…”

“When I said…?”

“Oh my god,” you roll your eyes, embarrassment evident on your face, “When you said it was big.”

“Oh yeah,” he nods coolly, scrubbing shampoo into his hair, “Why would I lie about that?”

And despite his half chill demeanor at the comment, he is fucking cheering so loud in his head that you think this about him and are saying it outloud.

“Well don’t get a big head,” you joke, taking the remaining wash cloth from the edge of the tub and loading it with water and soap, “It’s more important that you know how to use it.”

He tilts his head at you after rinsing out the shampoo, “Be honest, do I look like a guy that doesn’t know how to use it?”

“Like I said before,” you reach forward with the washcloth, massaging it onto his shoulder, “We don’t know each other.”

It’s the way you touch him and the mild scolding that makes his knees weak. You’re soft but deliberate, sudsing him up on his chest and back while he smooth conditioner in his hair. A muffled moan comes from his diaphragm when you ease the cloth over his lower belly, soap catching on the hair of his happy trail. Your eyes flick up at him mischievously, stepping closer to him to give him a kiss. Eddie sighs into it, letting the water pour down his back and rinse the conditioner out while he leans in rest a hand on your cheek, the other takes the wash cloth from you.

“Do you not want me to do it?” you ask sheepishly.

“I want you to do it way too much,” he smirks against your lips, quickly leaning down to get his legs and nether regions, “But thank you, you’re very sweet.”

There’s plenty of hot water left, and it doesn’t go to waste. Both of you standing in the shower, soapy and fresh where you both feel safe enough to explore. His hands roam the expanse of you, trailing from the top of your neck down to your ass, cupping your breasts and with a gentle squeeze while you both gasp between kisses. His rigid length stays pressed between you, leaking pitifully while snuggly hugging your hip bone.

You leave his kiss bitten mouth to nip at his jaw, down further to run your tongue from the base of his neck to the shell of his ear. Unable to hold back anymore, he whines. Needy and desperate, he does it again when your tongue flicks at his earlobe.

“Mmm’god,” he breathes, slurring. He feels your smile against his skin when you go back to his neck, embarrassed at the reveal of his sensitive ears and jugular. Your tongue traces the tattoo on his right peck, some scratchy shitty demon head he got when he was sixteen from some older kid in his living room. Wayne would’ve made him sleep outside if it hadn’t gotten infected and needed attention. Eddie keeps meaning to get it covered, but by the way you’re kissing over it he thinks maybe he’ll keep it around.

He twitches when you get to his ribs, a sharp inhale making him stand rigid while you move further down his body. Your hands rest on his stomach and glide to his thighs while you take your place on your knees in the cramped tub. His cock standing at attention straight out, reddening at the tip, in some way knowing there’s a girl staring right at it without his brain needing to send the signal.

“This okay?” you ask, looking up at him with dew drops in your lashes. He nods, afraid that if he speaks he’ll just spill all over, one false move and he’ll end the night before it even began.

You move slow, hands just under the swell of his butt. You bypass his erection and kiss his hip bone, then his pelvis. He shivers, hand gripping the shower curtain rod, white knuckling the ceramic coated metal while your breath coasts over his shaft.

Your wet tongue runs flat from base to tip, making his eyes shut tight.

“Shit,” he whimpers and you chuckle. He could just die, feeling the vibration of it on his head where your tongue stays. Your hand grips him gently, pumping him while you keep the top half in your mouth and against your lips. He cracks his eyes open to look down at you, mouth hanging open at the immediate eye contact he gets from you looking up at him. Mouth full and eager, wet and hot.

“Jesus Christ,” he gasps, free hand delicately resting on the back of your head. You continue your double duty for a few more stroke before dropping your hand. Your eye contact stops, determination in your brow when he feels your mouth and throat open up around him. Your head moving further down his shaft with skill – snug and tight. He thrusts forward slightly, moaning as you work with his hips. Eddie feels himself tighten, the heat in his belly growing to a steady and churning thrum.

You like the challenge of getting him off and he can tell by how you keep going, down far enough that you gag and as much as he hates himself for it the sound sends him hurtling towards release. With a cruel bite to his inner cheek he holds back, but the sight of you with spit trailing from your mouth to his shaft does little to aid in settling him down. Almost pornographic.

You wipe your mouth, reaching your hand out to stroke him again, but as your mouth leans in to start up he pulls his hips back.

“Baby, baby, wait stop–” he whines, moving away.

“Is everything okay?” you ask, putting your hands on your thighs.

“I just..wow I –” he collects himself, offering his hand to help you stand up on the slippery tub floor, “I haven’t um – wow, I haven’t had my dick sucked in a – in a long time and I don’t wanna, I don’t wanna cum yet.”

Your worry turns into a cocky and confident smirk, “Oh, was that where that was heading?”

He takes another ragged breath to steady himself, “Don’t get slick, we got all night.”

You kiss until the water turns cold.

Two boxes of pizza sit open on the coffee table in front of the couch you’re both snuggled up in. Both of your bellies are full and eyes drowsy in the glow of the TV. The sun had made its way down and the weather cooled off considerably, the breeze from the windows keeping you both under blankets with your bodies wrapped around each other in a cozy post carb bliss.

“This is honestly all I’ve wanted for weeks,” Eddie murmurs.

“What is?” you ask, tilting your head up so the tip of your nose hits his cheek.

“This,” he says softly, “Being all snuggled up on my couch with you.” “You’re so cheesy,” you tease.

“Yeah, that’s something you should get to know about me,” he says into a kiss, “M’super cheesy.”

“Huge tool,” you nod, another kiss.

“It’s really bad,” he agrees, “I’m so annoying.” “So annoying,” you mumble, tongue striping his lower lip. He grants you access with ease, tongue dancing with yours while you maneuver your way onto his lap like you had after Steve’s party.

“Snuggled up on my couch with no one to interrupt us,” he says, looking up at you with desperate eyes, “Right?”

You bite your lip nervously, the confidence from the shower ebbing away even in the heat of the moment, “Right.” “Come with me,” he says, voice sweet and slow like molasses. Eddie eases you off his lap, taking your hand to bring you into his bedroom – which he scrubbed to sparkling the night before. At the foot of his bed he kisses your cheek, fingers running over the hem of your sleep shirt, no longer a sputtering idiot but smooth in his movements while he eases it off you.

He leans down to kiss your neck, earning him a breathy sigh while your back arches into him. His thumbs tuck under the band of your sweats and panties, letting them fall to the floor by your feet – easing you on to your back on his comforter.

He takes down his own sweats, half hard as he climbs onto the bed on his knees, kneeling between yours. Your arms come up to snake under his, wrapping around his back, hands landing on his traps. He relents leaning down on his forearms so you’re skin to skin, chest to chest. Your noses brush, Eddie using his to angle your face to him, pressing your foreheads together, the tops of your lips touching.

“This is okay, right?” he asks, the warm white glow of the rope light on his far wall illuminating the frizz in his curls like a halo. It cradles your face, bouncing off your eyes that look so sweet at him.

“I think if it wasn’t, I wouldn’t be naked under you right now,” you say back, barely audible.

“Right, right,” he chuckles, lips attaching to yours with needy hunger. He stiffens below the belt, groaning when your hips roll up to meet his, when your legs wrap around him. But he can’t just start like that, pushing up again onto his hands.

“I gotta go down on your first,” he huffs.

“I mean I’m not gonna say no,” you laugh, he laughs too. A pepper of pecks following from your lips and down your chest, he takes fond care of your nipples on the way down. Tongue and teeth gently nipping and licking while his fingers explore between your legs.

“Eddie…” your breathy call of his name sends a shiver through him, feeling how wet you are already just from having him pressed up against you like this.

“That feels good?” he asks tentatively, meeting his fingers between your thighs.

“Mhm,” you sigh, back arching slightly while his face disappears and all that can be seen are the tops of his curls. He dips and swirls his tongue in all the ways you liked before, burying himself deeper the more you react. Each desperate cry spurring him on to continue, each pump of his fingers inside you making you clench around the digits.

“You taste,” he starts, replacing his fingers with his tongue at your entrance for a bit before breaking to your inner thigh, “so, so good.”

“Please do that again,” you whine, weak and pitiful. He obliges without hesitation, keening into your touch when you grip his hair at the crown. It stings but he likes it, it stings and he wonders how hard you can pull. When you start to get loud he lifts his head up, brows raised under his fluffy bangs.

“Wow,” he smiles into a snicker, “Y’know, I got neighbors sweetheart.”

“Oh my god,” you laugh shakily, covering your face, “M’sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he says with a shake of his head, crawling back up your body. He moves your hands away, looking down at you, “You’re not fuckin’ with me, right?”

You shake your head no, “I’m not fucking with you it’s — yeah, even better the second time.”

He shrugs with a cheesey grin, “Well y’know I’m kinda—”

“Don’t be a dweeb,” you put two fingers to his lips, “Shut up and fuck me.”

Eddie chokes on his words, “Oh, yes uh — yes ma’am, absolutely.”

He nervously climbs over you to get to his side table drawer, the box of condoms he found last week sitting undisturbed. He rips the foil open with his teeth, taking his time to roll it on while you turn to your side to watch him.

“It’s bad for your teeth to do that,” you note.

“Is that your concern right now?” he asks, looking up from under his brow while he finishes the task.

“I’m just saying,” you shrug. He motions you further up the bed, settling between your legs again, taking a chance to admire you below him. Soft curves and skin, legs pressed against your chest and splayed open for him, a peace offering after years of not getting it right. You were right.

“You’re just saying?” he replies with the tilt of his head, smoothing back down to press himself against you, a bruising kiss in his wake, “S’that it? You were just saying?”

“Mmmhmm,” your response is muffled against his lips, a low whine bubbling through your kiss as his tip catches between your legs. Neither of you take pause, his hips buck forward, still wrapped up in you and again until he feels it. The firm pressure of your core wrapped around him, sucking him in to the hilt.

“Jeeesus Christ,” he groans in your ear, pressing his face into your neck. He can tell he’s stretching you out, feeling your nails dig into his back in a sting that feels just as delicious as you pulling his hair.

“Oh my god,” a strangled moan leaks from your throat in a head voice. Eddie’s eyes flutter closed, letting himself rock into you steadily, supporting himself on one arm and the other making it’s way behind your knee to keep you spread open. He pushes up a little, hair falling forward on one side, curtaining one side of your face.

It’s more than he could’ve imagined, kicking himself for not getting it right in all the day dreams he had of this moment, you look serene. Brows slightly pinched, mouth open to let out all your little huffs and sounds. Your arms let go of him as he raises over you, laying back with your palms up toward the ceiling by your head. He watches as your breasts bounce on your chest, the gentle jiggle in your arms, the arch in your back.

“Kiss me,” you breathe,aching, “Please.”

And how can he deny you when you ask like that? Maintaining his position he cranes his neck down to latch himself onto you, feeling your hands cup his face. Eddie grunts into the kiss, speed picking up while he chases the pleasure beating like a drum in his body, each lewd smack of skin against skin making him hungry for more.

You moan wantonly into his mouth, making him moan in return, trying to find any angle and speed to make you keep making those sounds. Neighbors be damned. He pulls out to pull you by the thighs flush to him, pushing back in without a breath and you wail. He can feel your walls squeeze down on him, warm and tight, even tighter when he pushes your legs back up against your chest. From here, he can tell this position works for you – which is perfect because it’s working even better for him.

“Sh-i-hi-hit, baby,” he grunts, sweat starting to sheen across your skin, “This good?”

“Yeah.” He has to shut his eyes again, think of something bad so that he doesn’t bust at the sound of you whining like that. Like an amateur porn star who never fakes it.

“Yeah?” he teases, snaking back down to kiss your neck.

“Oh god…” you nearly blubber.

He coasts his lips over you until landing at that spot that he found on his couch a couple weeks ago. The tip of his tongue teasing at first before letting his teeth graze it with his lips.

“Oh! Oh fuck,” you yelp. He holds in a laugh, nipping and sucking on your neck while your hips meet his thrusts.

“Oh god, fuck - fuck more,” you groan, voice ragged while he keeps the pace in his hips. Another bright sting accosts him when one of your hands drags down the expanse of his back from under his shoulder blade.

With a growl he feels you cum, clamping down on him – but you’re so slick that it doesn’t deter his thrusts. You pulse, moans and cries peeling off into a high pitched whisper while he slows down inside of you before coming to a stop.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Y-yeah just…need a sec,” you sigh, “Need a breather.”

“That’s okay,” he soothes, running his hands comfortingly over your thighs.

“Are you having fun?” you ask between deep inhales.

“Oh, I’m having a blast,” he confirms with a laugh, settling back on his calves while you collect yourself, “Are you?”

“God,” you reply, exasperated, “I knew you were trouble.” “Doesn’t answer my question,” he says with a quirk of his lips.

“I’m having a lot of fun,” you nod, a sleepiness pulling at your eyes, “Can I say something?”

“Always.”

“I thought you’d be a sex playlist kind of guy.”

“Excuse me?” he asks.

“You just gave me a ‘has a sex playlist’ vibe,” you shrug.

“Why do you think that? What vibe?” Eddie’s tone falls under bewilderment, “Do you think I need music on so I can fuck?”

“I don’t know, you’re a music teacher maybe that’s just your thing,” you laugh at his surprise and mild offense.

“I don’t need a beat to know what I’m doing, babe, that’s just disrespectful,” he jokes.

“I was a little surprised when you didn’t go to your stereo to be like ‘Let me just set the mood,’” you’re teasing him on purpose now, it makes his heart skip a beat. That quick mouth of yours coming back full force – he likes you like this. He could love you like this.

“Set the mood? I’m not setting the mood enough for you, hm?” “You just have a very ‘let me play grunge while I get it on’ sort of energy going on–” “Listen, listen, enough,” he waves you off to shut you up, “Your break is up if you’re gonna use it to make fun-a-me, flip over.”

“Flip over? Yeah?” you challenge. “Yeah,” he challenges back, gripping you at the hips, “Flip over.”

Seeing you in an arch like this turns his brain to mush, ass in the air with hips that follow down into your waist and back out again. He smirks, readying himself behind you while his hand smooths over the swell of your hip.

“I could get very used to this,” he murmurs to himself.

“Nice view up there, Munson” you ask, cheek pressed up against his pillows. You wiggle your hips against him, tantalizing and slow.

“Very, very nice,” he assures. He guides his still aching length to your entrance, and he can tell even half way in that this is a position that works for you. Already gripping the sheets next to you before his hips make it align with yours. He doesn’t let it deter him, backing up to give you a not so delicate thrust all the way into you.

You let out a surprised huff.

“See what happens when you make fun?” he coos.

“I will make fun of you all the time if this is what I’m getting out of it,” you smirk. This playfulness is something he missed, feeling familiar, even in this position. He looks you over again, your body a stunning expanse infront of him – not afraid to do what he needs, not afraid to break you.

Things with Chrissy had been fine, sure. But there felt like there was so much more possibility here, snug tight inside you.

“Hmm, I’ll make a note of that,” he grits out, steadying himself before starting up a rhythm. He leans his head back with a desperate groan, fingertips sinking into the fat of your hips harder with every ‘plap! plap! plap!’ of his pelvis against your backside. The downside is not getting nearly as good of a view of your face, but if it saves the neighbors from ringing the bell he’s all for it. You’re loud enough with your face in the pillow.

He sputters, hands moving from hips to waist when you bounce back against him.

“Shit, doll,” he growls, watching your ass bounce in double time. Every meeting of his thrusts tugs on him quicker, his resolve faltering when you start to come undone under him again. He has no qualms with how easy it is to get you there, in fact, he makes a mental note to try to beat the high score every time.

Your thighs and hips give way, pressing back down into the mattress where he follows. Eddie readjusts while you catch your breath, letting you lay flat on your belly with your legs together.

“Stay like this, hm?” he says in a whisper in your ear, kissing your temple.

“Hmm,” you respond, eyes fluttering closed.

He settles over your thighs, reaching down to part your lips that are soaked and puffy with latent need. He’s close, and knowing he’s essentially fucked you to sleep is doing nothing but getting him closer. Pushing in slow, with your legs together, makes him shudder. You squeeze your thighs and while he can’t see you he knows you’re smirking to yourself.

“Hmm, keep doin’ that for me,” he mumbles headily.

“S’it feel good?” you ask.

“S’real good, baby,” he murmurs back tightly, still quiet. The ends of his hair tickle your back while he leans forward over you, drilling you hard into the mattress.

“Oh god, fuck,” he growls when you squeeze your thighs and walls again, “Fuck, baby, just like that.”

He lets his breath run through his nose like a bull, groaning and grunting before an aching moans pools of out him – spilling into the condom while inside you.

Pulling out, he takes a heaving breath, taking care of the condom and collapsing beside you.

“Holy shit,” he sighs, looking at you with glassy eyes.

“You gonna make it?” you ask with a raise of your brow. Body like dead weight, he wills himself closer to you, wrapping you up in his arms over the covers.

“If not, that’s totally fine,” he says into your temple, “Dying right now would be totally fine.”

“Well don’t,” you say back, “I’d prefer you didn’t.”

“Okay, I won’t," his eyes close with the scent of you in his nose, lulling him to sleep. “Thanks," your sleeply reply vibrates against his chest where your face stay planted in comfort. “You’re welcome.”

Eddie wakes up to the sound of his phone ringing in the living room, eyes peering open blearily to the sun pouring in from his window. He flicks his eyes over to you, seeing your bare back and steady breaths. Fast asleep.

He eases out of bed, grabbing his boxers off the floor before making it to the living room on the balls of his feet so he doesn’t step too loudly. At the flip of his phone he’s assaulted with the reflection of himself on an incoming FaceTime call. He answers it, rubbing his eyes when a happy scream echoes through the speaker of his phone.

“I’m a FIANCEEEEEE!” Tatianna screams from behind her hand, the rock on her finger front and center in the camera.

“Congratulations,” he sing songs, speaking low, “Hold on, hold it a little further away from the camera so I can see.”

Tatianna flips the camera to show off her ring in the sunlight, Eddie’s heart flutters when it glitters and catches in the rays. She flips the camera back to her, beaming from ear to ear.

“Did you know?” she asks.

“Of course I knew,” he says matter of factly, “I’ve known for months. I helped make it happen.”

“He did so good, Ed,” Tatianna smiles, “Sunrise? He really like – he knows me. That’s my husband! AHHHH!”

Eddie laughs again but shushes himself, remembering you’re still asleep in the other room.

“Why’re you being quiet? Oh shit – she’s there huh?” she grins. Gareth makes his way into frame, passing her a glass of champagne.

“Yeah, guys, she’s here,” he nods, “And she’s sleeping. Otherwise I’d be screaming too.”

“Sure there was plenty of screaming last night if she’s sleeping,” Gare nudges Tati who nudges him back. Eddie let’s them laugh at him because it would be even worse if they were actually there.

“Everything’s good though? Rob texted me saying things kind of went left but I didn’t want to bring it up if you didn’t bring it up to us,” she asks, sun gleaming off her skin and bright blue bikini top.

“Everything’s good, we’ll talk about it when you come back,” he assures.

“Well we don’t wanna interrupt, then,” Gare says, leaning in to kiss Tati on the cheek and then her lips, glossy with champagne.

“It’s more like I don’t want to interrupt you,” Eddie says back, “I’ll call you later. Love you both.” “Love youuuu,” Tatianna calls back, “I’mma fianceeeee!”

They cut the call with their mouths on each other and he’s sure he won’t hear back from them for at least a day. He’s glad it at least all went off without a hitch.

Leaving his phone on the coffee table, he makes his way back to the bedroom where you’re wrapped up in his covers. Running a hand over your shoulder, he gently shakes you awake.

“Hey pretty,” he coos when your eyes open, “Was gonna make some breakfast, if you want.”

“Wassonthemenu?” you yawn out, stretching.

“French toast,” he offers, “I’m kind of a connoisseur.”

“Ooh that sounds good, I don’t think I’ve had french toast in years,” you say with your eyes closed.

“Take your time,” he kisses your forehead, “Just meet me in the kitchen.”

When you do, he’s cracking eggs. Your slow shuffle gets his attention, turning to look at you he sees you picked up his sweats and shirt by mistake.

“Hello, good morning,” you say stiffly, “It appears I am dressed to impress.”

“You certainly are,” he jokes back.

“I’m happy to get some coffee together while you make breakfast,” you offer, “Just let me know where everything is.”

He points out where you can get started but grabs the mugs for you, giving you a sweet kiss good morning while he does. You don’t talk much, just the sounds of him cooking and the coffee machine whirring while the town wakes up around you both outside. He tells you about the engagement and that they can call again later so you can congratulate them too. You of course, gave him a reproachful look for not waking her up to start with. You pour the coffee while he plates the toast, thick and crusted over with brown sugar and cinnamon. He sets the butter and maple syrup on the center of the kitchen table while you grab plates and silverware. The domesticity makes his heart ache, because with you, it feels like this could be your house together. With you, it feels like it’s a future where he doesn’t live with Tati and Gare, and he wakes up to you every day. He swears he smells chlorine in the air.

“You don’t like cream or sugar, right?” you ask, putting the mug in front of him while he sits at the table.

“I don’t, but we have some. There’s milk and cream in the fridge door and I thiiiink some stevia packets in the cabinet with all the baking stuff. That one.”

He points to the cabinet next to the stove and you snatch a couple like gold. He sips his cup while you prepare your coffee, giggling to yourself.

“What’s so funny?”

“It’s just, this outfit is not what I had in mind to be wearing in front of you after a night like that,” you laugh, “I thought maybe I’d have a sexy robe on or something and instead I just –” You take a sip from your mug, shaking your head, “I look like a teenage boy from ‘07 whose about to do a kick flip for the ladies.”

Eddie barks a laugh into his coffee cup, “You do, you look just like that.”

“I know,” you laugh back, “But then again, I’m in your clothes. So I guess it’s you who looks like a teenager from ‘07.”

“I can do a kick flip,” he admits. “Yeah, I’m not surprised,” you say into your next sip.

Eddie swears he can hear the rush of water while his classmates kick on the side of the pool, his own toes on the edge of the block.

“You know who you look like, almost exactly?” he asks, putting his mug down and meeting you at the counter. “Who?” you ask with a smile.

“You look just like Eddie Munson’s girlfriend,” he says, hand falling on your hip.

“Yeah?” you reply, a little taken aback, “Just like her?”

“Spitting image,” he nods.

“You know, before I said that thing about looking like teenage boy, I was gonna say ‘Hey, you know something? I think I look just like Eddie Munson’s girlfriend,” you beam. Your response makes his heart race, such a goofball, so like him, so easy, so right.

He cocks his head, peering at you, “Wait, I think – wait – are you…the lead guitar player’s girl? Eddie Mnson’s girlfriend?”

You smirk, falling into the bit with him, “Oh my god yeah, that’s me – can’t get you in the show though, sold out. He’s like, a totally famous rockstar now.”

“Ah, that’s okay,” Eddie shakes his head with a winning smile, hand splaying over your waist to pull you in, “I know someone in the band.”

A coffee flavored kiss seals the deal.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he hears the shrill call of Miss Tiffany’s whistle.

He nails the dive every time.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fan fic #modern!eddie munson #older!eddie munson #stranger things fan fiction #stranger things fanfic #modern!eddie x reader #older!eddie #lgdw #lgdw!eddie #lgdw!steve

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corroded-hellfire · 1 month ago

Note

Could we perhaps get a blurb/chapter of when Eliza was born - maybe Eddie thinking back that this is so different than how Brittany was, when Y/N got into labor, where they were and how they reacted?

+ could you write about Eliza being born? I would love to see their reactions and eddie helping reader out plss

+ Please, let us in on the labor with Eddie and Reader from "As you wish". Did Y/N curse Eddie out, threatening to kick his ass or did Eddie do a prince Harry (God I hope not) and use all the gas?

I thought this would be a good chance to tell the story of two births of two very important Munsons, ten years apart 💕

Warnings: childbirth and all that comes with it, Brittany, not a warning but the italic sections are flashbacks/in the past

Words: 7.5k

[As You Wish masterlist]

The blaring wail of Eddie’s alarm clock wakes you up from your night of fitful sleep. It’s hard to remember the last time you had a full peaceful eight hours. The soreness in your lower back and the increasing pressure in your pelvis have been your loyal companions for the past few weeks, determined on not letting you have a moment of comfort.

Next to you, Eddie smacks his hand against the clock. The whining stops and the bed shifts as Eddie rolls over and presses a kiss to your cheek.

“Morning, gorgeous.”

Your answering groan makes your husband let out a soft chuckle as he pushes himself up into a seated position. Figuring it’ll be better to get up than continue to lay there so uncomfortably, you roll onto your side and shove yourself up until you’re sitting. A look down at your feet reveals that your ankles are swollen. Again.

“Know what today is?” Eddie asks as he opens his underwear drawer.

“Uh huh,” you hum. The mattress springs squeak as you stand up.

“Think she’ll make her grand entrance today?” he asks.

“Doubt it,” you say through a yawn. “Babies are never born on their due date.”

Eddie strips off his shirt and comes around the bed to give you a proper good morning kiss.

“How you feeling, baby?”

“Peachy,” you grunt. “Gonna go get the boys up.”

Luckily, neither Ryan nor Luke gives you any trouble waking up or getting ready for school. They know how you’ve been feeling lately and have been great about helping you out when they can.

“Bye!” Ryan says as he slips his backpack on.

“Have a good day,” Eddie says, ruffling both boys’ hair.

You press a kiss to the top of their heads and Luke rubs a hand across your swollen belly.

“Be good in there, Eliza!”

A smile grows on your face at his words. They head out the door to the bus stop, Ryan giving you one last wave before you close the door.

“Alright, I’m gonna head out,” Eddie says. He walks over and cups your face in his warm hands. “Call me if you need anything, okay?”

“I will,” you assure him.

He nods and presses a sweet kiss against your lips.

“Relax and get some rest.”

“Okay.” You give him another kiss in return. “Have a good day at work.”

“Love you, baby.”

“I love you, too.”

Not even two minutes after Eddie walks out the door, you plop down in front of the television with the remote. The only thing on at this time of day are soap operas, which have started to become an addiction of yours since there’s nothing else for you to do.

Fortunately, one of today’s plotlines is so boring and you predicted the identical twin brother twist a week ago, so you manage to fall asleep. It’s only a cat nap, but you’ll take anything you can get these days.

A different kind of discomfort awakens you this time. Your stomach growls so loudly it feels like it rattles the windows. You rally the strength to get up from the couch, and with a little help from the arms and back of it, you’re standing.

An infomercial for some Chuck Norris Total Gym blathers on as background noise as you walk–or more like waddle–into the kitchen. A peanut butter and banana sandwich has been a go-to for you during this pregnancy—after Luke happily introduced it to you one day over the summer. There’s something about the rich nuttiness and the sweetness of the fruit together between two pieces of bread that makes Eliza very happy in your womb.

Once you’ve got peanut butter spread on both slices of bread, you move to grab a banana from the fruit bowl. The moment your hand touches the yellow peel, you feel a twinge of pain shoot from your lower back, through your tummy, and down into your pelvis. Your hand braces you against the counter as you breathe through the pain.

What the hell was that? You think to yourself. That fucking hurt.

You take a deep breath and grab the banana. As you turn back to your sandwich and peel open the piece of fruit, it hits you.

Were those…contractions? No, you tell yourself, shaking your head. It had to be something else.

“No one ever actually has their baby on the due date,” you say into the quiet kitchen. “Maybe I have to pee again. I swear, this little girl thinks my bladder is a trampoline.”

Once you’re finished up in the bathroom, you head back to finish making your sandwich. But the minute you pick up the butter knife, another stab of pain attacks.

“Oh boy,” you say, one hand dropping the knife and going to your lower back, while the other rests on your bump. “You’re ready to come out, aren’t you? You heard that doctor say ‘October 7th’ and you made a note on a calendar, huh?”

The mental image of the baby in your belly marking the date off on a calendar makes you smile as you waddle over to the phone hanging on the wall. The line rings twice before someone picks up.

“Scott’s Auto Body, this is Mark speaking. How can I help you?”

“Hi, Mark.” You breathe through another twinge of pain. “Is Eddie there?”

“Yeah, let me go grab him for you,” Mark says.

“Thanks.”

It feels like an eternity as you hear the phone being put down, shuffling noises in the background, then low murmuring voices, until finally the phone is being moved again and you finally hear your husband’s voice.

“Hello?”

“Hey,” you say. “I, um, think I’m having contractions.”

“You are?”

It’s hard to tell if that’s excitement or urgency in his voice. Probably both.

“Yeah, the first one I just waved off as a fluke. But they’ve happened a couple of times now.”

“Alright, I’m on my way home, princess,” Eddie says, and you can already hear him moving around, starting the process. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you assure him. “They’re quick and not too close together yet. I’ll start counting when I feel the next one.”

“Good.” The sound of his keys jingling comes through the phone. “I’ll be there in a few minutes. I love you.”

A hint of giddiness is already creeping into his tone. He’s wanted a baby girl for so long, and she’s finally ready to make her appearance. You make a mental note to think of Eddie’s excitement anytime a contraction overwhelms you. Of course, you have your own excitement, and lots of it, but seeing Eddie be so truly happy is one thing that could get you through all the pain in the world.

Eddie unsheathes his sword as the azure dragon flies overhead. Too far for him to even reach if he threw his sword. The blood red skies cast a purple shadow on the giant winged creature. But Eddie’s almost there. He can see the tower in the distance, normally not a rough journey, but there’s bound to be something guarding the locked-away maiden.

As he gets closer, Eddie sees that it’s a female Cloud Giant tasked with keeping people like him away. Only the most noble who dare to help the poor young thing locked away.

Eddie picks up speed, his sword at the ready as he approaches the giant, then—bam! Something lands against Eddie’s cheek. He looks up, seeing if the dragon perhaps swooped down to swipe the knight with his tail. But the skies are clear. So, Eddie continues forward. Bam! What the hell is—

Eddie is jolted back into consciousness by his own pillow smacking his face.

“What the…” Eddie grumbles in a scratchy, sleepy voice. “What’s going on?

He rubs his bleary eyes and sees that Brittany is sitting on the edge of the bed, her back to him.

“Britt?”

Eddie stumbles to his feet and clicks on his bedside lamp before walking around the bed to check on his wife. The first thing he notices is that the crotch of her nightgown and the sheets below her are wet.

Wow, this baby must really be messing with her bladder if—wait.

“Your water broke?” Eddie's voice suddenly has no trace of sleepiness in it.

“Yeah.”

Brittany isn’t looking at him. Instead, she looks down at her hands resting on her large bump.

“Come on, let’s get you changed,” Eddie says, gently slipping his hand beneath one of her arms so he can help her up.

Brittany groans once she’s on her feet and Eddie hurriedly turns towards their dresser and digs for something she can change into.

“Contractions?” Eddie asks as he grabs a pair of sweatpants.

“Mhmm.”

“It’s okay,” he assures her.

Eddie quickly helps Brittany into her clothes and grabs her already prepared overnight bag from the closet. He slowly leads his wife into the living room so she can rest on the couch while he grabs Ryan.

The twenty-two-month-old is sleeping soundly in his crib. Eddie hates to disturb him, but the ball is already in motion.

“Wha?” Ryan croaks as Eddie scoops him up and holds him against his chest.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” he tells his son. “Go back to sleep.”

Ryan thunks his head down on Eddie’s shoulder and immediately begins lightly snoring.

The soft whistle in his ear makes Eddie smile as he steps into the kitchen to use the nearest phone. He quickly dials a number he knows by heart and waits for someone to pick up at the plant.

“Yeah, hi, is Wayne there? Yeah, Munson,” Eddie says into the receiver. He hikes Ryan up a little higher on his chest while he waits for the phone to get passed.

“Hello?”

Eddie’s never been happier to hear that gruff voice.

“Hey! It’s, uh, me. So, Brittany’s water broke and Ryan needs—”

“I’ll punch out right now and meet ya at the trailer.”

God, Eddie loves his uncle.

“Okay, see you there.”

Eddie heads back into the living room and helps Brittany up with one hand while the other keeps a good hold on Ryan. Somehow, Eddie manages to get them both in the car, all buckled and ready to go.

“Whew.” Eddie takes a deep breath in the driver’s seat. He takes one more before he starts the car. “Here we go.”

The moment Eddie walks through the front door, he makes sure you’re sitting down and comfortable. Sitting down? Yes. Comfortable? Not so much.

But you’re content with your peanut butter and banana sandwich as your husband presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Nine minutes apart,” you inform him through a mouthful of peanut butter.

Eddie chuckles at the muffled words.

“Okay. I’m gonna get changed, then call Wayne so he can be here for when the boys get home.”

You nod and take another bite of your sandwich.

Eddie comes back just as another contraction is starting. You set your plate down on the couch to your right and Eddie takes a seat on the other side of you. One of your hands braces you against the cushion you’re sitting on, and Eddie slips his hand into your free one.

“Just squeeze my hand, okay? And breathe.”

The pulsating wracks your body as you focus on taking in a large lungful of air. You hold it for a few seconds, counting time by the number of gentle squeezes you give Eddie’s hand, then let it out.

“Ugh,” you groan when the pain releases you. You flop back on the couch, tipping your chin up as you try and catch your breath. “That was the longest one so far.”

“We’ll start timing that too,” Eddie says.

He presses a kiss to your cheek before pressing a few to the back of your hands. His hands stall when you let out a deep sigh.

“Do you not want me to be touching you? What do you need?” There’s a shake in his voice that angers you, because you know exactly why and who made him unsure of how to comfort a woman in labor.

“Yes, I want you to touch me,” you say, grabbing his hand in both of yours. “Your touch calms me.”

It doesn’t escape your notice that his shoulders sag in relief before he wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“Just let me know what you want me to do,” he says.

“This,” you reply, leaning into his arms. Your eyes slip closed as you snuggle up to the warmth of his body. “Want you.”

“I’m not leaving your side, princess,” he assures you. “Do you want to watch a movie?”

You nod against his neck and Eddie swipes up the remote. He flips through the channels, but it’s the middle of a Tuesday, so there’s not a whole lot on.

“I can grab a tape or a DVD?” your husband offers.

You shake your head, holding onto him even tighter.

“Don’t want you to move. Whatever you find is fine.”

“Alright, well…I guess we’ll watch The Scarlet Pimpernel.”

Eddie feels your chuckle rumble against his chest.

“That’s fine,” you say.

It’s only seconds before another contraction starts, and Eddie can tell by the way your fingertips dig into him. This one lasts about as long as the previous one, and you’re able to get semi-comfortable against your husband again.

The house is quiet, the two of you on the couch, watching a movie that neither of you have any real interest in. The low volume only makes the loud pop that echoes through the room even more pronounced.

“My water just…”

“Yes, it did.”

A heavy pause hangs in the air as the two of you stare at one another. It’s obvious you have to get up and get going now, but the realization that this is really happening is sinking in for you both.

“Holy shit,” you breathe out in a whisper.

This breaks Eddie out of his trance. He starts to laugh and presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Here we go, sweetheart.”

He helps you up off the couch and into your room so you can change clothes. With your husband's help, you slip into a dry pair of sweatpants, an oversized Ghostbusters t-shirt Luke got you when you complained that there were no comfy maternity shirts, and one of Eddie’s hoodies on top of it—even though you can’t zip it up. Your old college backpack has been filled with supplies for weeks, all in preparation for this moment. Eddie slides onto one of his shoulders and walks with you to the front door.

Just as the two of you step into the living room, the door opens. Wayne steps inside and it takes four seconds for his eyes to go from you to Eddie, to the bag hanging on his shoulder, then back to you.

“Thank God you’re here,” you sigh in relief.

If for some reason he hadn’t arrived here before the boys got home, you knew they’d be okay for a while, but you’ll be able to relax more knowing that their grandpa is here with them.

“Heading out to the hospital?” Wayne asks.

“Yeah,” Eddie answers with a nod. “Her water broke.”

A smile graces the older man’s features, and it softens him.

“You got this, darlin’,” he says as he opens the front door wide enough for you and Eddie to get through.

You shoot him a grateful smile as you step outside.

“We’ll call when we have any update,” Eddie tells his uncle.

Wayne just nods and pats Eddie on the back as he passes. The two of you walk to your car together and Wayne watches from the entryway, not wanting to go inside yet in case he can help in any way.

Once you’re securely in the car, Eddie waves to Wayne before slipping into the driver’s seat. As he adjusts the rearview mirror, his eyes catch on the car seat that’s been installed for the past two weeks. It brings a smile to his face as he starts the engine.

“Let’s have us a baby,” Eddie says as he shifts the car into reverse.

As soon as you arrive at the hospital, it’s very quick work when Eddie alerts them you’re in labor. You’re brought right to a room and hooked up to lines and so many wires you’re not even sure what they’re all for.

Your doctor shows up not too long after you’re settled into your bed and says you’re not quite ready to push yet. Your contractions are getting closer together, but they’re not quite at the active labor phase yet.

Now after being hurried up to this room and all set up to go, there’s nothing to do. The flurry of activity kept your mind off the pain that was creeping up in intensity each time it snuck up on you. But now that there’s nothing to occupy your mind, it feels like it’s all that fills your head.

“Do you want some pain meds, baby?” Eddie asks, slipping his hand into yours.

He must’ve noticed the way you were gritting your teeth hard enough to wear them down to nubs.

“I can have some?” you ask.

“Sure, sweetheart. Let me go get the nurse.”

Eddie is right and the nurse is able to administer some medicine that allows you to relax a little. It takes enough of the edge off that you’re able to focus on and appreciate Eddie’s attempts to distract you from the pain and boredom.

Your husband had prepared ahead of time and had slipped his battered and well-loved copy of The Two Towers into your overnight bag. He now brings the story to life for you, reading with such passion, and doing different funny voices for the different characters.

“‘Beren now, he never thought he was going to get that Silmaril from the Iron Crown in Thangorodrim, and yet he did, and that was a worse place and a blacker danger than ours,’” Eddie reads to you. “‘But that’s a long tale, of course, and goes on past the happiness and into grief and beyond it – and the Silmaril went on and came to Eärendil. And why, sir, I never thought of that before! We’ve got – you’ve got some of the light of it in that star-glass that the Lady gave you! Why, to think of it, we’re in the same tale still! It’s going on. Don’t the great tales never end?’ ‘No, they never end as tales,’ said Frodo. ‘But the people in them come, and go when their part’s ended. Our part will end later – or sooner.’”

Then it’s time for the doctor to check how dilated you are and the timing of your contractions. It’s still not time, she tells you with a sympathetic smile before heading out to attend to other patients.

Now, Eddie finds a pile of old magazines and newspapers strewn about a small table in the corner. He picks up an outdated print of the Washington Post at random, sits in the chair he’s positioned near your head, and begins to read a news article in an over-the-top news anchor voice.

“The first musical number epitomized the kind of commercialized outrageousness that MTV has perfected in recent years. It featured Britney Spears and Christina Aguilera, decked out in white wedding ensembles in a homage to Madonna, who famously wore a wedding dress on MTV's first Video Music Awards broadcast in 1984, when she performed ‘Like a Virgin.’ Madonna appeared dressed as a groom, and the number, which also briefly featured Missy Elliott, provided the evening's first gyrating rumps, as well as a truly yechy moment: The sight of oversexed old Madonna tongue-kissing oversexed young Spears. It didn't seem outrageous or sultry; it smacked of desperation.”

“Such outrage,” you joke with a shake of your head.

“Kids today,” Eddie says with an over dramatic sigh. “All their music is just noise.”

You giggle and reach for his hand. He gladly takes it and laces his fingers with yours.

“How are you feeling, princess?”

“I’m good,” you tell him, giving his hand a squeeze. “My wonderful, loving husband is doing a great job of keeping me entertained.”

A smile that can only be described as adoring grows on Eddie’s face. He leans forward and presses kisses to your knuckles.

“Anything for you.”

By the time the hospital staff gets Brittany up to her room and hooked up to all the equipment, the doctor says it’s not long before she can start pushing. Which also means that there’s no time to give her any drugs—no matter how much she begs.

“Ugh! This sucks,” Brittany complains once it’s just her and Eddie in the room.

“I know,” Eddie says.

“Do you?” she snaps back.

“I mean, I…” Eddie stutters over his words. “I was there when Ryan was born. I know the pain you were in then.”

“At least they were able to give me something for pain then. Now I can’t even get a fucking Tylenol.”

“Do you want to talk about something to keep your mind off it?” Eddie offers. He scoots his chair up to the edge of the bed and rests a hand on Brittany’s blanket-covered thigh.

“Fine,” the blonde grunts out. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Um…what about middle names? We haven’t decided yet.”

“Didn’t we?” Brittany sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose.

“No,” Eddie replies. “Just first names. Luke for boy, Lucy for girl.”

“Fine. So, Ryan’s middle name is after your uncle because you just had to do that,” Brittany rolls her eyes and shrugs her shoulders. “What about from my family?”

“What names do you like?” Eddie says between clenched teeth. She's having my baby, she’s having my baby, she’s having my baby, he reminds himself over and over again.

“Anatoly,” Brittany says. “For a boy.”

“Luke Anatoly Munson.” Eddie wrinkles his nose at how the name sounds out loud. “I don’t think that goes.”

“Fine.” Brittany’s silent for a moment as she considers other names. “Andrei?”

Eddie internally sighs. He’s always thought it was cool that much of Brittany’s family emigrated from Russia, but the land’s native names don’t flow well with “Luke Munson.”

“Aleksandr,” Brittany suggests, pulling Eddie out of his own head.

“Huh.”

Eddie leans back in his chair, letting the name roll around his brain. It's a good one, he thinks. But…

“Should we use the American spelling?” Eddie asks.

“Why, so he can be named after your dad?” Brittany bites out.

The room is silent as Eddie furrows his brow. He shakes his head in confusion as a nurse steps in to check on the monitors Brittany is hooked up to.

“That’s not…Britt, that isn’t my dad’s name.”

“What?” Brittany stares at her husband as if he has three heads. “Of course it is.”

“People called him ‘Al’, yeah,” Eddie starts. “But his full name is Alan. Not Alexander.”

“Oh.” Brittany waves a hand dismissively as if not knowing her husband’s dad’s name after years together is nothing—a common mistake, even.

Eddie shakes his head, shoving the irritation to the back of his mind for the time being. There will be plenty of time later to be annoyed by Brittany’s ignorance and apathy. After the baby is born.

The tension grows in his neck, so Eddie rolls his shoulders and leans back in his chair.

“So, Luke Alexander Munson for a boy?” Eddie checks.

“Sure,” Brittany says as another contraction washes over her. The way her eyes squeeze shut so tightly and her teeth clench with a vengeance pangs Eddie’s heart.

“And for a girl,” Brittany grits out, obviously trying to talk through the pain in an attempt to ignore it, “Lucy Alexandra Munson.”

“That’s pretty.”

Eddie goes to take his wife’s hand as her body relaxes from the fading contraction. But Brittany snatches her hand back.

“Please, just don’t…touch me.”

“Okay. Sorry.”

Eddie barely has time to feel the sting of rejection before the doctor is back in the room to check on Brittany’s progress.

“Good news,” the doctor announces. “You’re dilated enough. It’s time to start pushing.”

“Oh boy,” Brittany mutters, trying to garner strength from her exhausted body.

The room is a flurry of activity as nurses prepare everything the doctor might need.

Eddie stands and goes to reach for his wife’s hand before remembering she doesn’t want to be touched. But as another contraction wracks her body, Brittany reaches up and grabs his hand. It brings a small smile to Eddie’s lips, despite how hard she’s gripping it because of her pain.

“Alright, Brittany,” the doctor says as he gets into position at the end of the bed, “we’re going to try pushing now.”

“We?” Brittany barks out in a strained and breathless laugh.

“Well, mostly you,” the doctor teases as a nurse goes to stand on Brittany’s other side, opposite of Eddie.

“Alright, honey,” the nurse says, putting one hand on Brittany’s shoulder. “Push when the doctor counts to three.”

“One, two…”

He doesn’t even get to three before Brittany starts squeezing the life out of Eddie’s hand. Eddie just clenches his teeth and takes it though, willing to soak up any pain that he can from his wife.

“Jesus, fuck!” Brittany shouts through her pushing. Her face is already sweaty, matting hair to her forehead. Eddie’s quick to brush it away with his free hand.

“You’re doing so good, Britt,” Eddie encourages. “You’ve got this.”

Brittany nods, either in acknowledgment of his words or just because she wants him to shut up.

“Almost there, Mrs. Munson,” the doctor says.

Eddie’s eyes widen in surprise. When Ryan was born, they were at it for a while before he decided to make his grand entrance into the world. People had told him that second babies tend to come out quicker, but Eddie didn’t know this one was practically banging down the door to get out.

“This one’s got some mettle,” Eddie says.

“Just like Dad,” Brittany grits out and it takes Eddie a second to get her joke.

Mettle, metal? He got it.

Eddie huffs a laugh, honestly impressed by her ability to come up with a joke while she’s trying to pass a human being through her body.

“Okay, now just one more biiig push,” the doctor says.

“Come on, hun,” Eddie cheers, bracing his hand against Brittany’s as she channels everything in her to push.

“Almost there, almost there…” the doctor repeats.

Suddenly the shrill sound of an infant wailing fills the small room. It’s the most beautiful sound Eddie has ever heard.

“It’s a boy,” the doctor announces, holding the newborn up enough for the parents to see.

Brittany drops Eddie’s hand out of pure exhaustion, but there’s a smile on her face as she drops back against the pillows. The baby is handed to a nurse for initial cleanup.

“I’m so proud of you,” Eddie says softly to Brittany.

She tilts her head up and gives him a sleepy smile.

The softness in her gaze has Eddie leaning down to press a kiss to her lips. Surprisingly, she kisses him back.

“Would you like to cut the cord, Dad?” the doctor asks.

“Yes,” Eddie responds before the doctor can even finish the question.

He walks down to the foot of the bed and takes the pair of scissors to the umbilical cord, snipping it in two. Eddie hands the scissors back blindly, as his eyes never leave his newborn son. No detail escapes his notice as he watches a nurse gently take him and lay him on Brittany’s chest.

“Oh, hi,” Brittany says, one hand covering the entirety of his little back.

Eddie comes back up to the head of the bed and beams down at his wife and baby. Brittany glances up at him, then back down.

“Look at this beautiful boy,” Eddie coos.

Brittany chuckles and Eddie leans down to kiss her head, then the newborn’s.

“Beautiful little Luke,” Brittany says.

A nurse takes him back to fully clean him up and swaddle him in a soft white blanket.

“You want to hold him?” the nurse asks Eddie.

“Yes.” Eddie nods emphatically and holds out his arms.

The moment the gentle weight lands in his arms, Eddie’s eyes fill with tears.

“Hi, my boy.”

“To place a call outside of the hospital, please press nine.”

Eddie does as the automated voice tells him and leans back in his chair. You let your head loll to the side, the scratchy pillow brushing against your cheek as you watch your husband. This brief respite from contractions allows you to smile when you hear the echo of Ryan’s voice come from the phone.

“Hey, you,” Eddie says, grinning as well. “How was school?”

“Good! Isthebabyhereyet?”

His eagerness makes Eddie chuckle.

“No, no baby yet. Just figured I’d check in with you guys.”

“What he say?!” Luke shouts in the background.

“No baby!” Ryan tells him.

The phone shuffles back and forth before Luke says, “Just share it!”

“Uh, you both there?” Eddie asks.

“Yeah!” they say at the same time.

“Did you ask—”

“Not yet, I—”

Eddie tilts his head to the side as they bicker. He somehow deciphers that they want to talk to you.

“You can talk to her if you hush up and behave.”

Both boys fall silent at that. There’s a small pause before Ryan says, “Okay.”

“Good.” Eddie nods and hands the phone over to you.

“Hello?”

“Hi!” two young voices call at the same time.

“How do you feel?” Ryan asks.

As if his question summoned it, a contraction rears its ugly head. Your forehead furrows as you try to ignore it and focus on the conversation with the boys.

“I’m doing okay.”

“Do you hurt?” Luke asks.

Your free hand bangs against the bed rail in an attempt to keep from shouting in pain. Eddie sits up straighter in his chair, concern filling his eyes. He motions to the phone, silently asking if you want him to take it back.

“Little bit,” you grit out to answer Luke while shaking your head to answer Eddie.

“Did they give you any medicine?” Ryan asks.

“Yeah, a while ago. So, uh, what did you guys do at school today?”

“Nothing really,” Luke says. “Oh, you and Dad have to come down to the school and get the meat thermometer.”

“The what?” you ask.

“The meat thermometer.”

“Luke, what are you talking about?”

Eddie looks at you, questioningly, and you shrug your shoulders.

“Me and my friend Kevin wanted to test the temperature of the cafeteria hot dogs, so I brought the meat thermometer. But then we got caught and the lunch lady took it. So now you need to get it.”

“You did what?” You hear Wayne’s muffled shout.

“We wanted to make sure it was safe!” Luke defends.

The contraction finally releases you and you’re able to relax as much as you can in the lumpy hospital bed.

“What about you, Ry?” you ask.

“I didn’t care how hot the meat was,” he says, completely serious.

You laugh and it helps your body wash away that lingering whisper of pain.

“No,” you say. “What did you do at school today?”

“We have to write papers for history class, and we started today.”

“Oh yeah? What’s the paper on?” you ask, trying to think of anything except the next contraction.

“Everyone got assigned some kind of job we have to study. I got dentist.”

“And what did you learn today?” As much as Luke’s shenanigans can keep you entertained, they can also stress you out. But Ryan loves to go into detail about what he’s working on at school and this shall hopefully provide you with a relaxing distraction.

“Uhh…” Ryan hums as he thinks. “The first dental school in America was founded by Horace H. Hayden and Chaplin A. Harris.”

“When?” you press.

“1840. In Maryland, in case you were gonna ask!”

It’s impossible not to smile at how well the boy knows you.

“Good job, Ry,” you tell him. “I’m proud of you.”

The beginnings of a new contraction appear, and your fingers tighten around the phone receiver. You spy your doctor out in the hallway and use it as an excuse.

“Alright, boys,” you start, “my doctor is coming so I gotta go, okay? Daddy will call when there’s an update.”

“Okay,” Ryan says.

“Love you!” Luke adds.

“I love you both, too.

Eddie hangs up the phone for you just as your doctor actually does walk into your room.

“How are we feeling Mrs. Munson?” she asks you.

You’ve been “Mrs. Munson” for eight months now but it still gives you butterflies every time you hear it.

“Contraction-y,” you tell Dr. Hahn.

She chuckles and nods her head in understanding.

“That makes sense, you know, with the contractions and all.” She tugs two medical gloves out of the box marked “medium”. “Alright, I’m just gonna check how your dilation is going.”

As you lay back to let the doctor do her thing, Eddie leans forward and raises an eyebrow at you.

“Should I be concerned about whatever it is that Luke did now?” he asks.

“I think it’s okay,” you say with a chuckle. “Apparently, you just have to go to school to pick up a meat thermometer he brought to check the temperature of the school hot dogs.”

Eddie stares at you, his face almost as blank and emotionless as you’ve ever seen it. You can practically see his brain attempting to digest this information, but it thinks it’s reading the data incorrectly.

“He what?” Eddie finally asks.

Luckily, Dr. Hahn saves you from admitting you have no idea what goes on in the mind of Luke Munson.

“Well, Mrs. Munson,” Dr. Hahn says, “the time has arrived. You’re fully dilated now; time to start pushing.”

You’ve known all along that you’d have to do this—hell, you’ve known it for about eight months now—but the reality of actually pushing a person out of your body is sobering. How did this moment finally arrive? Weren’t you and Eddie just sitting on the bathroom floor, waiting for the results of the pregnancy test? And now you’re supposed to start pushing? You feel as if you’ve had no time to prepare. Prepare for this labor, prepare for taking the baby home, prepare to be a fully-fledged mom to a newborn.

A moment of serenity washes over you as your mind reminds you of one important factor, though: this is your and Eddie’s baby. You are bringing a child into this world that is half you and half the man you love. A baby who is the product of the love that you both easily fell into and fought like hell to make work. Suddenly, labor doesn’t seem so bad. It may hurt, but to you it is a privilege and honor to bring this little girl, and everything she stands for, into the world.

“You alright, sweetheart?” Eddie asks.

“Yeah,” you assure him with a small smile. “I’m ready to meet our baby.”

The infectious grin that spreads on Eddie’s face warms your heart and gives you a boost of strength to get this show on the road.

Eddie stands up as Dr. Hahn gets everything situated. He slips his hand into yours and leans down to press a sweet kiss to your lips.

“I’m right here with you, princess,” he says softly. “You’re the strongest woman—no, person I know.”

His words have your eyes filling with tears and the hormones certainly aren’t helping.

“I love you so much, Eddie.”

“I love you, too.”

“Oh, here comes another contraction,” Dr. Hahn says, looking at the monitors that you’re hooked up to. “We’re gonna try pushing on this one, Mrs. Munson, okay?”

“Okay.”

The wobble in your voice is clear. Eddie presses a kiss to the back of your hand. Just as his lips brush your skin, you feel the now-familiar pressure that precedes a contraction.

“Oof,” you groan as the intensity increases.

“Alright, now…push,” Dr. Hahn instructs.

You take the deepest breath that your pain will allow, grit your teeth, and clutch your husband’s hand as you begin to push.

“Great job, Mrs. Munson,” Dr. Hahn praises. “Keep it going.”

And it does keep going. And going. And going.

But fifty-three minutes later, you hear the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard in your life.

Shrill, high-pitched wails fill the room, and you immediately begin sobbing.

“Here she is,” Dr. Hahn says, holding her at an angle you can see. “Congratulations, Mom and Dad.”

Even covered in vernix and blood, your new daughter is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. A nurse places her on your chest, and the moment you feel that skin-to-skin contact with her, you’re done for. She already has you wrapped around her little finger.

The newborn continues her cries, escalating to a new pitch every time she gets another lungful of air. It’s as if she’s a royal, informing all her subjects of her many woes.

Eddie leans in and kisses your lips, the tears on your face mingling with the ones on his. When your husband pulls back to stare at his baby girl, his face is filled with awe and adoration.

“She’s here,” he whispers to no one in particular.

“Do you want to cut the cord, Mr. Munson?” Dr. Hahn asks.

Eddie reaches for the scissors a nurse is holding out to him and he has them in his hand before you could say “Ryan and Luke’s new baby sister.”

This is Eddie’s third time doing this, so he knows right where to line the scissors up even before Dr. Hahn instructs him. Eddie severs the cord and a nurse takes the baby so she can have a proper cleaning.

Neither your nor Eddie’s eyes leave the newborn as she’s swaddled up in a nice warm blanket.

“Do we have a name yet?” The nurse asks as she slides a pink hat onto the tiny baby’s head.

“Eliza,” you say proudly. Tears fill your eyes at the sound of her name out loud. Out loud now that she’s here. This precious little bean that’s been growing inside of you for so long is finally here, a real little person you get to hold and love on.

“Eliza Marie Munson,” Eddie says, the same emotions that you’re going through reflecting in his voice.

“Well, Dad,” the nurse says as she picks up Eliza and turns towards Eddie. “Would you like to hold your baby girl Eliza?”

Your husband nods emphatically, reminding you of Luke when he’s asked if he wants to go to the toy store. The nurse gently transfers Eliza to her father’s arms, and you watch as his face morphs as he holds his daughter for the first time.

“H-Hi, Eliza.” Eddie sniffs and clears his throat, trying to shove the tears away. “I can’t believe you’re finally here. I can’t believe that I actually have a daughter.” Slowly, Eddie leans in to press his lips to her soft, smooth forehead. Eliza coos and her face scrunches up adorably. “You wanna know something, Eliza? You have the best mommy in the world. And now I have the two most perfect girls in the world.”

Eddie looks up at you with a gentle smile. Tears are falling down your cheeks so rapidly that it feels like you’re playing whack-a-mole as you try to wipe them all away.

Your husband stands next to the bed and nods at you, signaling for you to ready your arms for the baby. You gladly accept the warm little bundle, and more tears begin to cascade as you gaze down at her gorgeous little face.

“Hi, baby girl. I’m your mommy.” Saying the words aloud sounds odd to your ears. Sure, you’ve basically been a mother to Luke and Ryan for years now, but you never introduced yourself to them as “mommy.” But that’s what you are, from Eliza’s first breath, you’re her mom for her entire life.

“You okay?” Eddie asks. He reaches down and rubs a warm hand against your shoulder.

“I’m wonderful,” you say. “It’s weird, though. Having Eliza from this very first moment of her life, I now wish even more that I could’ve known the boys as soon as they came into the world.”

Eddie lets out a soft chuckle and places a kiss to the top of your head.

“Trust me, princess. This has been the least dramatic and stressful of all the kids’ births.”

You chuckle as well, and the sound seems to tickle Eliza. Her tiny head moves from side to side slowly, as if she’s shaking her head no in slow motion.

“I can’t wait for them to meet her,” you say.

“Guess I need to make a phone call home.”

The door to the hospital room clearly needs some oil as it squeaks open. Wayne steps inside, a curious Ryan in his arms. The almost-two-year-old gazes around the room with wide eyes, taking in all the unfamiliar equipment.

“Hey, you!” Eddie says as he takes the little boy from his uncle. “Did you have a good day with Grandpa?”

“Yep,” Ryan says, still taking in his new surroundings. “Play catch.”

“You played catch?” Eddie asks, his pitch rising in that faux excitement adults use when talking to young children.

“Uh huh!”

“That sounds like fun. Guess what?”

“What?”

“You’re a big brother now,” Eddie tells him.

“Baby?” Ryan asks.

“Yes! Mommy had the baby. Do you want to meet him?”

Ryan nods enthusiastically, trying to look around his dad’s head to catch a glimpse of his mother. She comes into view as Eddie turns and walks towards the hospital bed, where Brittany is cradling a sleeping Luke.

Eddie gently sets his older son down on the bed next to his mom.

“Hi, Ryan,” Brittany says softly. “Come here, look at the baby.”

Cautiously, Ryan shuffles forward and peers at the blanket-wrapped bundle.

“This is your little brother, Ry,” Eddie says. “You guys are going to be best friends.”

“Do you want to hold him, Wayne?” Brittany asks, fighting back a yawn.

“‘Course.”

Brittany carefully hands him over, and Wayne looks down at his new grandson in absolute wonder.

“Well, aren’t you the sweetest baby?” Wayne says to Luke.

As the older man cradles the baby, Ryan stands up and taps his dad’s arm. Eddie hums in question and raises his eyebrows at the toddler.

“Up, up,” Ryan says, holding his arms up.

It melts Eddie’s heart that Ryan wants to be held up next to his new brother. The room is quiet, save for the echoes of hospital sounds drifting in.

Luke starts to squirm, unable to move much in his swaddled state.

“Britt?” Eddie looks over his shoulder at his wife. “Do you have the pacifier?”

“Oh, yeah.” The blue pacifier that Luke has already shown an affinity for is on the bedside table, and Brittany hands it to her husband, who pops it into the baby’s mouth. Immediately, Luke calms back down, sucking furiously as he slips back into sleep.

Ryan leans over as far as he can in his dad’s arms, peering down at his brother in awe.

“My baby,” Ryan declares.

The adults in the room chuckle.

“Can you say hi to Luke, Ryan?” Eddie asks, rubbing his hand up and down the elder boy’s back.

Ryan grins, his adorable baby teeth on display. He’s mesmerized by the new family member, and it fills Eddie with a warmth he’s never felt before. Ryan tries to lean over even more, wanting to be as close as possible.

“Hi, Luke!”

The comfortable quiet in the hospital room cocoons you, your husband, and your daughter as you all lounge in the bed. Your head rests on Eddie’s shoulder while Eliza sleeps soundly in his arms. Both of you are just staring at her, already completely wrapped around her little finger.

“She’s so beautiful,” you whisper.

“Just like her mom,” Eddie replies, just as quiet.

“Her mom needs a shower,” you say. “Badly. I feel all gross after getting all sweaty.”

“You still looked gorgeous, even giving birth.” Eddie turns his head and presses a kiss to your hair.

The slight movement causes Eliza to fuss, wiggling like a little worm in her father’s grip. Her whines hurt your heart.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Eddie coos. He lays his head against yours.

Eddie begins to hum, and you quickly recognize the song as Sweet Child O’ Mine. All it takes is a minute of her dad’s soothing tone to lull the baby girl right back to sleep.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #older!eddie #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fan fic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fic #dad!eddie #AYW #AYWS #request

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dokries · 4 months ago

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that’s rough, buddy

pairing: kim mingyu x gender neutral reader

genre: fluff, (a bit of) angst, established relationship

word count: 1.6k

warnings: miscommunication (everything turns out well!), mingyu’s just a little forgetful, seungkwan best friend, a forehead kiss

author note: this was requested by a lovely anon <3 again, i’m so sorry it took me so long to get to it 😭 i hope you enjoy reading, and lots of love (as usual) 🫶

masterlist

mingyu thinks you hate him, and it’s not just because you haven’t visited his apartment for more than eight days—though that’s concerning as well; you’re usually over within a couple of days, even if you’re busy, which he definitely knows you aren’t, considering how much you’ve been going out with friends, namely seungkwan and chan.

he purses his lips, looking up at the ceiling from his comfortable spot on the couch…alone, just like the last two weeks. his phone dings and he opens it immediately, a frown appearing on his face when it turns out to just be seungcheol asking if something’s up between the two of you—of course he knows; seungkwan never even looked in mingyu’s direction the last time all thirteen hung out together.

mingyu sighs, responding back with a “ask seungkwan not me” before opening up to the last time you had texted him. he had said he was busy back when you had asked if he wanted to go to a photography exhibition, and you haven't responded to his hurried apology.

maybe it’s time to say something…? he pauses before sighing again, going back to staring at the ceiling, hoping the little stipples above him will make a decision so he doesn’t have to.

of course, the only reason you’re avoiding him is because you think he hates you—which may be a huge overstatement but what else would you call it? it’s one thing to not have time for dates because that, at least, you could understand. maybe it’s just that you’ve passed your puppy love phase, and that’s alright; you’re both very busy people but…why is he ignoring you? that’s not the mingyu you know, and it’s been almost a year since you started dating.

the most annoying thing is that he probably doesn’t even realize your anniversary is coming up in the next few days—though you’ve stopped caring (the dried tear stains on seungkwan’s couch pillow say otherwise).

so when he texts you while you’re at chan’s apartment, you frown in surprise, catching the attention of seungkwan, who’s beside you.

my gyu 🥰 ❙

hey it’s been a while since you came over… movie night at 6?

you move to pull up your keyboard but seungkwan stops you by quickly pressing the power button before you can even start typing a reply.

seungkwan glares at you when you start to protest, and takes your phone into his hands to prevent anything happening, as if he’s your parental figure. “don’t you even dare say yes.”

“maybe…” chan sighs and rubs his eyes with his palms, catching your attention—and seungkwan’s too, as he raises an eyebrow at his best friend, telling him to continue. “maybe we should give him a chance?”

seungkwan immediately scoffs and jumps into a rant about why you should do the exact opposite of what chan’s suggesting. “chan, have you not been paying attention these past few weeks? that man has left our dear baby—” seungkwan moves to shush you when you say you’re not a baby, continuing once you press your lips into a straight line. “he literally left them hanging multiple times, and all he had to say was ‘sorry i can’t make it sweetie.’”

chan frowns, tilting his head. “isn’t that what you’re supposed to say to your partner if you can’t make it?”

seungkwan pauses, sighing. “well…yes but come on, he could at least offer to make it up to them if he’s done this like ten times! also, he definitely forgot about their anniversary, which is so much more horrible.”

as seungkwan takes a deep breath to calm himself, you correct him quietly. “it’s been three times.”

“what?” seungkwan looks at you exasperatedly, and chan giggles from his seat on the chair in front of the two of you.

“i said he’s only done it three times. besides, he’s been busy…it makes sense for him to forget.” you hold out a hand to stop seungkwan before he launches into another spiel on how mingyu sucks as a boyfriend so you can keep going. “listen, kwan, i think spending some time with him would be right…but i’m not ready for that yet.”

seungkwan bites his lip before nodding, his expression softening. “okay. as long as you’re happy, okay?”

you hum in agreement as chan stands up, clapping his hands excitedly, and you exchange a look with seungkwan.

chan grins, pulling out an uno deck from a drawer in the table beside him. “how about we play uno to distract ourselves?” he nods towards you before smirking at his other friend. “i’m sure they’d love to see me beat you.”

seungkwan raises an eyebrow before scoffing again, raising his shoulders in a shrug. “well, lee jung chan, you should know you’re totally gonna lose.”

chan scoffs, and as your best friends start bickering like normal, you smile, knowing they’re amping up the dramatics to take your mind off…whatever you and mingyu are right now. well, you could think about your boyfriend after beating both chan and seungkwan in uno.

mingyu’s been sulky all day, and wonwoo not asking him why isn’t helping the sinking pout on his face.

he stares unrelentingly at his best friend as wonwoo faces the self-help bookshelf in front of them, searching for the book he’s been looking for since they entered the small shop.

“why are you like this?” wonwoo eventually breaks under mingyu’s pitiful gaze and huffs out a breath, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose before turning to his friend. “what’s wrong?”

mingyu sighs like he’s been doing for the past few days, and wonwoo puts the book in his hand back on the shelf, expecting his friend to not get to the point quickly (he’s right).

mingyu says your name quietly as a response, and wonwoo raises an eyebrow. “what is that supposed to mean?”

“it means that they hate me! i don’t know what i did either…i mean look, it was pretty busy at work so i couldn’t go on dates with them when they asked but that’s okay right?” mingyu frowns and bites his lip when he realizes he’s a bit too loud for the bookstore.

nodding, wonwoo processes the information he’s just been given before he puts a sympathetic hand on his best friend’s shoulder. “good luck with that.”

mingyu scoffs, about to scold the man in front of him before his gaze drifts off to the bookshelf in the far corner, where the two of you had been searching for cooking books around the time you had first started dating, which was probably around…a year–oh.

oh, he’s so dumb, isn’t he?

“hm?” wonwoo says when his friend pauses, looking up from the book he just picked up as mingyu groans and puts his head into his hands, moving to rest against a nearby bookshelf.

wonwoo looks over to the cooking section and turns back to mingyu. “hey, isn’t it–wait…you forgot the anniversary, didn’t you?”

mingyu groans again in agreement, and gets a head pat paired with a “that’s rough, buddy” from his friend before he’s left alone, coincidentally, in the relationship advice section.

seungkwan sighs as he comes back from checking through the peephole of your apartment door, gesturing towards it as he plops down onto the couch. “it’s for you.”

you raise an eyebrow, getting up to open the door—seungkwan already checked anyway, so there’s no need to look through the peephole again–and come face to face with mingyu, the man you’ve been avoiding. “oh.”

the paper around the bouquet of white orchids in his hands crinkles as he shifts his weight, a nervous smile on his face as he calls your name hesitantly. “hey.”

you nod in greeting before looking back to seungkwan, who’s glaring at mingyu with his arms crossed, and paying attention to the man in front of you as he clears his throat.

“i, uh…here.” mingyu pushes the flowers towards you, and lets out a breath of relief when you take it gently from him. “i’m sorry.”

you stare at him. “for what? forgetting our anniversary? for not apologizing for so long?” you sigh when he remains silent, looking back at the clock in your living room. “there’s only a few hours left of our one year anniversary anyway…it’s fine.”

mingyu shakes his head, coming closer to grab your arm gently with a serious expression. “no, it’s definitely not fine. i hurt you, and that’s not okay.” he pauses, frowning. “besides…i miss my partner–i miss you.”

you sigh, looking into mingyu’s eyes, and you know he’s genuinely sorry. you break your arm free from his grip, causing his face to drop.

you place the bouquet of orchids on the side table, and call out to seungkwan. “hey, kwan? do you mind finding a vase for these?”

“i have to make the most out of these last two hours of my anniversary with my boyfriend after all.” mingyu’s face lights up as you take his hand, still looking back at seungkwan’s soft smile, which matches your own.

you give mingyu a pointed look as you close the door behind you, trusting seungkwan to keep your small apartment safe. “but first, we really do have to talk about…whatever the last month was, okay?”

mingyu nods eagerly before placing a gentle kiss on your forehead as the two of you grin. “i missed you so much, baby.”

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thewintersoldierdisaster · 1 month ago

Text

a/n: hey there! i never actually planned on writing a sequel to ‘9 pm’ but a few anons asked about it and i liked the idea of giving them some happiness following that fic! the perfect title gave me the idea for the fic and here we are ☺️ i hope you guys enjoy!!

word count: 2.8k

tw: brief and minor mention of a miscarriage, pregnancy

direct sequel to 9 p.m. in vancouver

summary: andrei’s off on a road trip and you’re more exhausted than normal. once you realize why, you have to call andrei immediately

It’s barely ten at night and you’re falling asleep on the couch, Friends rerun playing at a low volume on the TV. Your blinks get longer, eyelids heavy, while Joey yells about the Coast Guard.

A yawn creaks at your jaw and you try to blink away some of the sudden exhaustion in your body. It doesn’t really work, another yawn catching you a few minutes later. You wrap your arms around one of the throw pillows, cheek smashed up against the pillow tucked under your head.

It’s been a long few days, work overwhelming you and Andrei up in the tri-state area for a mini road trip. The Canes had lost to the Flyers before beating the Devils. They’re currently up two goals on the Rangers, according to your NHL app updates, with just a few minutes left in the third.

The team will spend the night in the city before heading to Long Island for the second half of a back to back tomorrow.

It’s a grueling schedule so early in the season, four games in six days, and you know Andrei will be exhausted when he gets home on Monday morning. At least they’re off for two days before hitting the ice for a home game on Wednesday. You yawn again and decide vaguely that maybe you’ll go to the game, if you can keep your eyes open. It’s been a while since you went to the arena and you miss watching Andrei play live.

You can’t help but think briefly about the game in Vancouver last November, almost a year ago now, and your hand drifts to your stomach.

The baby would’ve been four months old, probably keeping you wide awake right now.

You don’t really think about the loss as much anymore, you can go long stretches of time without thinking about him - because you’d decided that it was a boy, even though it was too early to ever tell. Your due date had come around at the end of July and Andrei had spirited you out of the country, the both of you quiet and moody for a few days.

And then training camp had started and you’d gotten busy with work and then the season started and you didn’t dwell on the loss for a while.

But now it’s late and you’re tired and you haven’t seen Andrei in a few days and you should be cuddling a baby right now.

A few tears trickle down your temple and you swipe at them, emotion clogging your throat.

“God, get a grip,” you mutter to yourself, shaking your head slightly. It’s not even like you’re on your period to be so hormonal right now. Your brain takes a second to process the thought and when it does, your eyes widen and you kick your legs out, struggling with the blanket to try and sit up.

“Oh, oh my god,” you scramble for your phone, tossing blankets around until you hear the tell-tale thunk of the phone hitting the floor. You lunge for it, the TV remote going flying, but you barely pay attention to that as your fingers wrap around the loop on the back of your phone case and snatch it off the floor.

Your hands shake violently as you unlock your phone and thumb over to find your period tracker app. The app takes seconds to load, seconds where your heart beats wildly and your vision goes a little blurry. You mutter, “come on, faster, faster,” under your breath and suddenly the screen loads and there in the center of the screen, in bold font, is the notice that your period has been late for more than thirty days.

You’ve missed two periods.

Without even realizing it.

To be fair to yourself, after the miscarriage, everything was thrown off and you’ve only had seven or eight periods in the past year. So it’s not totally crazy that you didn’t realize you missed two cycles.

Your stomach lurches a little bit and you chew at your lower lip. You probably should take a test. But do you want to know without Andrei, again?

It didn’t work out so well last time.

You’re probably not even pregnant, you rationalize, it’s the stress of a new season starting and your body getting back to normal.

Never mind the fact that you’ve long been cleared to get pregnant again and your gynaecologist hadn’t said anything was wrong at your last appointment.

Your phone vibrates in your hand, nearly scaring the shit out of you. It’s just a notification from the NHL app - sometime in the last few minutes, while you’d been spiralling, the Rangers had tied the game and it was going to overtime.

Overtime anxiety is better than maybe-pregnant anxiety, so you tune into Bally, the sudden brightness of the glare off the ice making you blink. You’re half-heartedly paying attention, fingers tapping against your thigh while the players zip up and down the ice, trading scoring chances. Andrei’s on the ice for a shift and then he’s back on the bench. Pyotr makes a save and then another and then he doesn’t.

You frown at the TV, watching Andrei and the guys file off the ice, miserable for the team’s loss. You change the channel back to Nick at Nite, not interested in seeing the post-game analysis of the loss.

The audience laughter from the show echoes around the living room and you chew at your lower lip anxiously. Andrei won’t be back to his hotel room for hours, the post-game process already underway, but between media, a shower, and the travel. Well, it’ll be at least close to midnight before you can talk to him.

He’ll reassure you that you’re overthinking, that it’s nothing. But a quiet part of your brain is insistent that you’re pregnant and it just won’t shut up.

The smartest thing would be to take a test, find out once and for all if you’re even going to mention anything to Andrei. You’re pretty sure there’s no tests left after last time and if there are, they’re probably expired.

Your fingers tap at the screen of your phone almost by memory, the Google search showing that there’s a twenty-four hour CVS just a ten minute drive away.

The episode ends and another begins while you sit on that information, giving yourself a moment to imagine what you’ll do if the test is positive. He has to know immediately this time, you don’t think you’d be able to wait.

“Oh fuck it,” you mutter to yourself, pushing the blankets off your legs and getting up from the couch. Your vision goes fuzzy, briefly, the blood rushing from your head. You blink and everything shifts back into focus, your heart hammering a little.

Before you can overthink it, you turn off the TV and head for the front door, making a stop at the front hall closet to grab a jacket. Your fingers close around the sleeve of one of Andrei’s, the jacket dwarfing your frame as you slip your arms into the sleeves. You shove your feet into a ratty pair of Uggs and drop a faded Canes ball cap on your head.

You look insane, more like a college kid doing a walk of shame than a married woman, but Andrei’s scent embedded deep into the collar of his jacket is comforting you.

At CVS, you grab at the pregnancy test boxes like a woman possessed - Clear Blue, First Response, and the CVS generic brand all go into your basket, along with a bag of pumpkin shaped Reese’s Cups and a pack of Twizzlers. Something about the waxy, artificial strawberry ropes seems appealing right now.

Thank God for self-checkout, you don’t think you can face another person right now.

The pregnancy tests feel like they weigh a million pounds in the plastic bag and you gnaw anxiously on a Twizzler as you drive back home.

It’s well after midnight by the time you manage to drink enough water in order to pee on all the sticks and this round is more anxiety producing than when you’d done it over a year ago. Once you’re done, you set the timer on your phone and flip each stick over on the counter, so you can’t see the displays.

Instead of waiting in the bathroom, which is feeling small and stuffy despite how large it actually is, you pace around your bedroom for the few minutes it takes for your timer to count down. You wonder if you could call Andrei now, be on the phone with him when you look at the display, but if you’re not pregnant and he’s on the phone, he’ll be disappointed right before the next set of games. He’s been talking about it a little more lately, in the abstract, how nice it’ll be to have a baby one day. And you maybe haven’t been as enthusiastic as he’s been, so you don’t want to get his hopes up.

If you’re not pregnant, Andrei doesn’t need to know that you worried yourself into a tizzy over nothing.

But if you are? Well, Andrei will be the first call anyway.

The timer goes off on your phone and the sudden, shrill noise makes you jump. Your stomach lurches and you flatten your palm over it. Underneath the anxiety, there’s a little bubble of excitement growing, the thought of a baby providing a little spark of joy.

You wander back into the bathroom and close your eyes before flipping the tests over with shaking hands.

The plastic clatters against the countertop and you squint one eye open and then the other, vision focusing on the little displays.

“Oh!” You gasp, eyes immediately filling with tears, hands flying up to cover your mouth.

All three are positive, the little Clear Blue display declaring you ‘Pregnant’ in tiny letters.

Tears slip down your cheeks and you start giggling wildly, overwhelmed in the best possible way. Your hands press on your stomach, palms flat and fingers splayed.

“Hey there, baby,” you murmur, looking down. “Stay safe in there, okay? We want to meet you.”

The tears fall faster and you wipe at them with your shoulder, a damp splotch forming on the fabric of your sweatshirt. It’s so late, but you need to tell Andrei, and you move on autopilot, climbing onto your bed and finding your phone among the messy covers - the bed hasn’t been made in two days because Andrei is more of a stickler for that than you are and you like to get right back into the nest of blankets at the end of the day. It’s on your list of things to do before he’s back in a few days. Now, you pile yourself into a little cocoon of the blankets and comforters, warm and happy.

You text him first, just a quick ‘you awake?’ that you know he’s going to read as a request for phone sex.

True enough, your phone vibrates in your hand a few seconds later, Andrei’s name at the top of the screen. You grin and slide the bar to answer, “hey there.”

“Is late,” he replies, a faint laugh in his tone. “Thought you would be sleeping.”

“No,” you giggle, feeling a little unhinged. “Not asleep. Couldn’t sleep. Um, are you alone?”

Your husband laughs fully now, the sound echoing over the line. “Solnyshka, been a long day. I love you, but we have early morning,” he teases and the rumble of his voice makes you smile.

“No, not for that you perv,” you shoot back, twisting your fingers in a loose thread. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

You know you’re sounding vague and strange, but to his credit, Andrei doesn’t call you out on it. Instead, he’s quiet for a second before your phone vibrates against your ear, signalling an incoming text. You pull the phone from your ear and tap over to your messages, laughing when you see the picture Andrei just sent.

The hotel room is nearly pitch black, but you can still make out the shape of Martin Nečas passed out in his bed with what looks like an eye mask covering his face. Andrei’s grinning face is cut off in the corner of the picture.

“Guess that’s a yes then,” you smile, bringing the phone back to your ear.

“Neci has earplugs in too,” Andrei informs you. “Says I snore, which is lie.”

It’s not, but you don’t feel like relitigating that particular point with him right now. So you move on.

“I know I should’ve waited, done something cute, but I’m bursting,” you let the words come out in a rush, feeling lightheaded with excitement. “I couldn’t, I had to tell you right away, Drei, baby, I’m pregnant.”

Andrei’s silent on the other end and a slightly manic laugh bubbles out of your mouth while you wait for him to say something.

“Pregnant?” He repeats, sounding like he’s just taken a blow to the stomach - winded and hoarse. “Like, with baby?”

“Yeah, mhm,” you hum, just letting the news soak in. Andrei’s breathing is audible in your ear, a soft ‘huh’ puffing out.

He starts to laugh and you can hear the grin in his voice when he says, “oh, solnyshka, fuck, I’m… ya chertovski schastliv.”

He slips into Russian and you’re not totally familiar with the words, but he repeats them in English, “I’m so fucking happy. Are you okay? How you feel?”

“I’m okay, I was feeling a little tired earlier,” you say. “That’s kind of why I took the test, just to see.”

Without asking, Andrei switches the call to a FaceTime and you pull the phone back, his grinning face taking up the entire screen. He looks lighter and happier than he has in months and the sight of him, of that smile that you love so much, makes you emotional.

“I wish I could kiss you,” he shakes his head, still smiling. “Hold you, something other than smile like idiot on phone.”

“I’m just happy to see your smile,” you say truthfully. A hug wouldn’t be unwelcome, but just seeing Andrei’s face has you calmer. “It’s late,” you continue, catching sight of the time in the top left corner of your phone - nearly 1:30 in the morning. “You should get some sleep.”

The adrenaline is starting to wear off now and you slump back against the pillows and headboard.

Andrei nods. “Call me when you get up,” he requests, phone bouncing slightly as he shifts on the bed. “We leave early, but call any time, okay?”

“Okay,” you promise, pressing your lips together to smother a yawn. “Hey, I love you.”

“Ya tebya lyublyu,” Andrei replies in Russian, warm and awed. “You and baby, both.”

You’re both quiet for a bit, comfortable and sleepy, reluctant to end the call. You just want to enjoy his long-distance presence and this little bubble, but eventually Martin lets out a snore on his side of the room, startling you since you forgot he was there. Andrei laughs faintly and reluctantly ends the call, after telling you he loves you again.

Now that Andrei knows, your whole body relaxes and you sink happily into the nest of blankets and pillows, curled up in a c-shape, one hand on your stomach.

There’s a million things to figure out in the coming days, weeks, and months, a million worries to ruminate on, but for now, you fall asleep with a smile on your face and pure happiness bubbling in your stomach.

The next morning, you snooze your alarm and allow yourself to wake up slowly and lazily. It’s an easy morning and you don’t plan on getting out of bed until you hear the doorbell ring.

With a grumble, you climb out of bed and shove your feet into a pair of slippers to pad downstairs, wondering who could be at the door this early.

It’s a delivery man, half-hidden behind a huge bouquet of flowers. You accept it, surprised at the delivery but not at the sender.

The oversized bouquet made up of baby roses, baby’s breath, and a few other types all in various shades of baby pink and baby blue can only be from your husband. Your face hurts from the size of your smile and you dig out the little card from between a pale pinks rose and a light blue hydrangea.

‘I love you, we will celebrate as soon as I am home. A hug and a kiss from New York for you, mama. -A’

It’s not Andrei’s handwriting, but you trace your fingers over the letters and feel tears well up. Any concerns or worries you might have about having a baby are pushed aside.

Andrei’s going to be the best dad and you’re so lucky to be doing this with him.

#andrei svechnikov #andrei svechnikov x reader #andrei svechnikov x you #andrei svechnikov fic #nhl fic

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norrizzandpia · 11 months ago

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What We Could’ve Been and What We Are Now: The Masterlist (LN4 x Reader)

Summary: Jon’s daughter and childhood best friends, Y/n and Lando share a special type of love. A love that has always made them prioritize each other, show up no matter what when the other needed them. A love that turned romantic so incredibly, strikingly fast. When their friendship finally addresses that shared feeling and labels are thrown around, their connection takes a turn. Arguments, trust issues, and petty insults make up their young love and it’s not what either of them expected. A turning point, a stupid mistake, brings out an inevitable end and the two are left to stand in the midst of a destroyed relationship, a friendship that is no longer salvageable. However, young people make stupid mistakes that they later grow from and what happens when years later numbers are unblocked, words are shared again, and the love they shared burns once more? Warnings, an author’s note, chapter links and summaries, and a playlist below the cut!

Warnings: language, smut in later chapters (that will be specified on specific chapters), cheating

Note: please don’t be turned away by the cheating warning 🙏🏻 trust me when i tell you it all works out in the end in a way that does not have Y/n looking like she has no self worth

Chapter Links:

The Youngest Love (Chapter One)

A backstory to the beginning of a love story.

A Beautiful Start (Chapter Two)

Ever since their first official date, Y/n and Lando fall into the honeymoon phase.

Why Can’t You See It My Way?! (Chapter Three)

Arguments and bickering turn what once was into something messy and painful.

A Stupid Mistake (Chapter Four)

In the wake of their fight, Lando wakes up to someone who is not his Y/n.

If You Don’t Tell Her, I Will (Chapter Five)

Something that started out with the purest of intentions ends with the most dirty confession.

Please, I’m Sorry (Chapter Six)

Lando tries and tries to contact Y/n after their fallout. However, with a blocked contact and an angry Jon, he can only do so much.

Reconciling (Chapter Seven)

When he can’t reach Y/n, Lando goes to apologize to his second father.

Years Later (Chapter Eight)

His first race win is not the only reason why Lando is having the best day of his life.

Stay Up With Me? (Chapter Nine)

Picking up where they left off has never seemed so easy yet Y/n can’t get rid of the nagging fear of what could be repeated.

Listen To Me (Chapter Ten)

At the risk of another fallout, Lando works to stop from losing what he so foolishly lost before.

The Playlist:

1. The Grudge by Olivia Rodrigo

2. Logical by Olivia Rodrigo

3. Making the Bed by Olivia Rodrigo

4. Lacy by Olivia Rodrigo

5. Take It All by Adele

6. Tolerate It by Taylor Swift

7. Right Where You Left Me by Taylor Swift

8. Hurt Me Once by Ben Platt

9. Illicit Affairs by Taylor Swift

10. Keep That To Yourself (voice memo) by Tristan

11. I Miss You, I’m Sorry by Gracie Abrams

12. Ceilings by Lizzy McAlpine

13. Movies by Conan Gray

14. Cardigan by Taylor Swift

15. Your Needs, My Needs by Noah Kahan

16. Betty by Taylor Swift

17. TV by Billie Ellish

18. Footnote by Conan Gray

19. Fine Line by Harry Styles

20. August by Taylor Swift

21. The 1 by Taylor Swift

22. Special by SZA

23. Marjorie by Taylor Swift

24. Decode by Sabrina Carpenter

25. Champagne Problems by Taylor Swift

26. Strawberry Wine by Noah Kahan

27. All My Love by Noah Kahan

28. Talk by Hozier

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merrybloomwrites · 1 year ago

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You Can Start a Family (Extra: Sickfic Part 1)

Summary: Y/N gets sick and Mitch, Sarah, and Harry take turns doting on her.

Previous Chapters: One ; Two ; Three ; Four ; Five ; Six ; Seven ; Eight ; Nine ; Ten

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Grabbing extra blankets, you bundle deep under the covers of your otherwise empty bed. You hope that your cats will join you soon so you’re not completely alone.

It’s not like you have other people in bed with you every single night. Since you started dating Mitch and Sarah earlier in the year, and added Harry to the relationship three months prior, you’ve spent a decent amount of time alone. One might think that wouldn’t be the case with two boyfriends and a girlfriend, but they’re busy people.

Harry has been writing his next album, traveling twice for writing retreats with his collaborators to minimize distractions. On top of that he’s had meetings, photoshoots, and other projects that require him to be away from you for days at a time.

Meanwhile, Mitch’s album had dropped just a couple weeks prior, and he and Sarah were busy promoting that.

All in all, you were very used to sleeping alone. But for some reason you were really missing them tonight. They had all been home for just three days before they had to fly out to Los Angeles to prepare and rehearse for Harryween.

It had been a somewhat last-minute decision to actually do Harryween this year, since tour had ended a few months before. But the venue was open and most of the band was available, and they knew tickets would sell out immediately, so they decided to pull the trigger and go for it.

That meant that they needed to fit in all of the prep work the week right before Halloween, leaving you alone at home for days. They had left Sunday morning, and since it’s now Tuesday, it’s your third night without them.

You only need to make it until Thursday, and Mitch will be back for a couple of meetings, and then you’ll fly to LA with him for the two shows at the start of the following week.

Knowing that it’s only two more lonesome nights would normally help you, but for some reason you just feel so alone tonight. The bed feels too big and empty and cold. You are cold, freezing, bone deep cold. It isn’t even that chilly out, a mild fall evening.

It’s early to get in bed, not even 9 PM, but you feel exhausted. You wish you could just call them, but you know with the 3-hour time difference that they’re definitely still rehearsing, probably not even taking their dinner break for another hour.

You settle for playing their music, your go to when you just need to hear their voices to feel them close to you. It doesn’t take long before you fall asleep.

The blaring alarm wakes you the next morning, and even though you slept over nine hours, you’re still tired. You go to say good morning to the cats who joined you at some point in the night, and your voice comes out groggy. You clear your throat which only leads to a coughing fit. It doesn’t last long, and you’re fine while you get ready for work, so you figure it was probably just a tickle and not a big deal.

Wednesday is the same as Tuesday, most of your days truly blending together. You take a bath after dinner, hoping it will help the new aches in your joints that bothered you all afternoon, and you nearly fall asleep in the water. If it weren’t for your phone ringing, you definitely would have been out cold within a minute.

You dry your hands and grab the phone, checking who it is before answering.

“Hello,” you say, and notice your voice once again sounds a little rough.

“Hi love,” Sarah replies. “I’ve only got a minute, but I wanted to check in. I miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

“What are you up to?”

“Decided to relax tonight, currently taking a bath.”

“Is that so? Wish we could facetime,” Sarah says cheekily.

You laugh at how forward she can sometimes be and reply, “Get your mind out of the gutter Jones!”

“I know, I just wish I could see my beautiful girl.” You blush at these words as she continues, “How are you? You sound a little hoarse.”

“Yea, I’m okay. Not sure why I sound like this. It happened this morning and just came back. Maybe it’s allergies, the ragweed is pretty bad this time of year.”

“Okay, well just let me know if you get worse. Maybe do a covid test to be safe?”

“That’s a good idea. I’ll do one in the morning before Mitch comes home. Last thing I want is to spread something to you guys before the shows next week.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” she reassures. “But always good to check.”

You’re about to ask how she and the others are doing, see if she could put Harry and Mitch on the call for a minute but before you can ask, she says, “Oh, I’ve got to go, we’re starting again. There’s a new transition that we’re struggling with a bit, so we’ve got to work on that more.”

“You guys will get it, you’re the most talented band out there.”

“Thank you, my love. Sleep well tonight, let me know how you’re feeling in the morning.”

“I will keep you posted. I love you.”

“I love you too. Good night.”

“Good night,” you say, and the call is ended.

You sit for a moment, your apartment feeling extra quiet again. It takes all of your energy to get out of the tub and finish getting ready for bed. It’s difficult to adjust to the cool air after the hot bath, and you quickly burrow into the pile of blankets you left on the bed, sighing in relief at the warmth they offer. Like the previous night you play music and immediately fall asleep.

The alarm is even louder than usual the next morning, and it hurts to open your eyes. You go to sit up and realize that everything in your body hurts. You take a deep breath to collect yourself, but that has the opposite effect. The second you breathe in you begin to cough, and it feels like minutes pass before you get it under control.

Forcing yourself out of bed you remember the conversation with Sarah the previous night and decide the first thing to do is take a covid test. You do that and as you wait the 15 minutes for the result you make a cup of tea and get dressed. You’re not sure yet if you’re going to call out sick. As a nanny to a toddler, the last thing you want to do is go to work sick and pass it on to the child. You choose to wait for the test results before deciding.

The timer goes off and you see that it’s negative. You call Beth, the mom you work for, and fill her in, letting her decide if she’s comfortable with you being around her son that day.

After telling her your symptoms she says, “I’m okay with you being around Ryan, but if you’re not feeling well, you should stay home. Take a sick day and rest. I know it’s exhausting taking care of a toddler when you’re not under the weather, and much worse when you are.”

“I’m really not that bad,” you reply. It’s not a complete lie, you already feel slightly better than when you first got up. You had taken a pain reliever and it was helping your achy joints, plus you had only had one more minor coughing fit. You assure Beth that you’re well enough to work and that you’ll see her soon.

She fusses over you slightly when you get to her house, mothering you a bit to make sure you’re not worse than you say you are.

“Call me if you need anything. I can get a substitute or Michael can work from home and watch Ryan.”

“I will, I promise,” you say, locking the door behind her as she leaves.

You feel fine all morning, nothing more than a slight cough. Ryan takes an excellent nap halfway through the day, and you make the mistake of laying on the couch during it. The baby monitor is right next to you, ensuring that you’ll hear Ryan when he wakes up, and the white noise coming through the monitor lulls you into a light sleep.

Beth has told you before that it’s okay if you rest while he’s napping but you normally never do. Today though, you can’t fight it and your eyes slip shut.

After nearly three hours Ryan’s babbling wakes you up. It’s immediately obvious that your short nap was a bad idea, and you feel awful as you get off of the couch. Checking the time, you note that Beth will be home in two hours and tell yourself you can push through to the end of the day, maybe with a little help from Bluey.

You’re relieved when Beth walks through the door, having gotten worse throughout the afternoon. She again dotes on you as only a mother can and tells you to take off the next day. You try to protest, since you’re already planning to be out for days the following week to travel to LA, but she won’t hear it.

“I will see you next Thursday. Not tomorrow. Rest. Get better so you can enjoy your boyfriend’s show.”

You smile and thank her before driving home. The second you enter your apartment you take off your shoes and climb into your bed. You don’t realize that you’ve fallen asleep until you jerk awake hearing the door open. You’re confused, and worried that someone is breaking in, but a moment later you hear Mitch calling out your name.

You try to shout out to him and let him know where you are, but as soon as you open your mouth you begin to cough. It’s even worse than the fit you’d had in the morning and Mitch rushes into the room, immediately rubbing your back to soothe you.

Finally, you start to catch your breath and you turn, curling into Mitch’s embrace as he wraps his arms around you.

“What’s wrong baby? Sarah said you didn’t sound great last night but this is worse than I expected.”

“It wasn’t this bad yesterday. It wasn’t even this bad when I got home earlier. I feel like shit.”

“What do you need?” he asks.

“I don’t know. This is helping though,” you say referring to him holding you. He squeezes you tighter for a moment and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

For a few minutes you stay like this until another coughing fit wracks your body. Mitch again rubs your back, his touch calming you even as you struggle to breathe. When you’re done coughing, he shifts so he can get off of the bed.

“Don’t leave, please,” you say, grabbing on to him.

“I just want to check if you have any medicine, I’ll be right back.”

“Please,” you say, refusing to let go if his arm. Deep down you know that you’re being clingy, but you can’t bring yourself to care in that moment.

“Okay, c’mere,” he says and gestures for you to wrap your limbs around him. Once you’re secure he carries you with him to the bathroom and places you down on the closed toilet lid. He opens the closet door and takes out the box of different medications you have in there.

“Have you taken anything yet?” he asks.

“I took some Tylenol earlier today, but it’s been a while.”

“Nothing for the cough?”

“No, it really wasn’t that bad before.”

“Okay, here, take this,” he says, handing you the small cup filled with cough syrup. You do as you’re told and he takes out the thermometer, holding it up to your head.

It beeps a moment later and he says, “Definitely a low-grade fever. How are you feeling?”

“I’ve had the chills, and I guess body aches.”

“Alright, you said it’s been a while since you had Tylenol?”

“Yea, I only took it this morning.”

“Here’s another dose, it’ll help with everything else.”

You take the medicine as instructed, too tired to even think and grateful that you have someone there to tell you what you need to do.

“Have you eaten today?” Mitch asks.

“Yea, I had a sandwich for lunch,” you answer.

“But no dinner?”

You shake your head no.

“Okay,” he replies. “I’m going to heat up some soup for us. Do you want to wait in bed or come with me?”

“With you,” you reply, holding out your arms so he’ll carry you again. He smiles at how adorable sick you is, and he picks you up with ease, loving having you in his arms.

He places you on one of the bar stools at the kitchen island and you rest your head on your arms as he gets food ready. Normally you’d be asking him how his flight was, how rehearsals had been going all week, but instead you just rest your eyes, comforted by the sounds of another person in the apartment with you for the first time in days.

A few minutes later Mitch places a bowl of chicken noodle soup in front of you. He sits on the stool next to yours with his own bowl and puts a sleeve of crackers between you two. You lift your head up and thank him before starting to eat. You’re feeling a little better now that the medicine has had time to work, and you’re able to finish your dinner.

As soon as you and Mitch are both done eating you rest your head on his shoulder.

“Bedtime?” he asks, and you nod your head yes.

He cleans up the dishes and the two of you head to the bathroom to get ready. You lean against Mitch as you brush your teeth, too tired to stand on your own. He keeps a firm arm around you, making sure you don’t fall, and leads you into the bedroom.

Once you’re both in bed you immediately move to lay on top of him, needing to be as close as possible.

“Is this okay?” you ask, and he replies, “Of course, baby. I’ve missed my human blanket.”

You smile and melt into the embrace, his arms wrapped around you, making you feel safer and more content than you have in days. It doesn’t take long before you once again fall into a deep sleep.

Mitch, however, stays awake for some time after you. It’s still fairly early, especially since he’s on west coast time. Once he’s sure you’re asleep he pulls out his phone, careful not to disturb you with his movement.

He sends a text in his group chat with Sarah and Harry, telling them about how sick you are. It’s obvious how worried they are in their replies and Mitch assures them that he plans to take you to the doctor in the morning if you’re not feeling better.

The moment he wakes up the next day he can tell something is wrong. He feels like he’s in an oven and he immediately realizes the heat is coming off of your body as you lay sprawled on him. Carefully he reaches over to the side table and picks up the thermometer to see what your temperature is.

He grimaces as it beeps loudly in the quiet room, but you remain asleep. He checks what it says and grows more worried. While yesterday you had a mild fever, it’s much higher now. Just as he puts the thermometer back down you suddenly wake up coughing.

Mitch helps you sit upright so you can breathe easier, and after it passes he hands you a glass of water, encouraging you to take small sips.

Your whole body is aching, and a violent shiver shoots through you.

“Baby, I think you should get checked by someone today, okay?”

You want to refuse, saying it’s not that bad, but you don’t have the energy to fight so you simply nod to agree.

The start of the morning is hazy. You and Mitch shower together so he can help you and make sure you don’t slip in your weakened state. You get dressed and throw your damp hair up into a bun and join Mitch in the kitchen for breakfast. A shower and food have done you some good, and you’re feeling more alert. You make an appointment with a doctor, happy to see an opening in just an hour.

Mitch insists on cancelling his morning meeting to go with you, but you tell him you’ll be fine. He concedes by just pushing it back a little bit so that he can drive you to your appointment.

As he drops you off he tells you for the hundredth time to text him with updates and let him know when you need to be picked up, reassuring you that he can leave his meeting if he needs to.

“I’ll be okay Mitch. I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself. I have for a while now.”

“I know you can, I just- we all just like to take care of you.”

“And I love that about the three of you. But I will be fine. Now go, I need to check in.” He grabs your hand for a moment and squeezes tightly before letting you go.

You go into the office and the woman at the front desk hands you the typical forms to fill out. After handing those back you wait for a little while, happy that you thought to bring a book. Focusing on that helps you not focus on how crappy you’re feeling.

Once in with the doctor you tell her your symptoms and she does her normal physical assessment.

“Well, there are a number of things this could be. We’ll test for covid, flu, strep. But, we’ve had a number of cases of fungal pneumonia recently, so I want to check you for that as well. Seems there could be something nearby that’s causing these infections.”

With that she sends you off to the lab next door where they do a number of tests, including a chest x-ray to know for sure what’s going on. You text Mitch to fill him in while you wait for the results.

You get called back into your doctor and she informs you that you do in fact have fungal pneumonia.

“I’m going to prescribe you itraconazole, an anti-fungal drug. You can continue taking cough medicine and acetaminophen to treat the symptoms of the infection.”

You nod to show you’re listening and ask, “Is it contagious?”

“No, fungal pneumonia is not contagious. To get it you need to come in contact directly with the spores. Did you visit the wetlands recently?”

“The one’s over near Creek Road?”

“Yes.”

“Yea, I went there Sunday afternoon. Why?”

“Most of the patients I’ve recently diagnosed with this have been there. There must be something on one of the trails that’s infecting people.”

You continue to nod, finding this mildly interesting. If you weren’t sick you’d probably find it fascinating, but you’re too tired to think about it too deeply. She asks about your hike, writing down the specific areas that you walked to send over to the rangers at the Wetlands so they can determine where the danger is.

“I’ve sent your prescription to the pharmacy you listed; it should be ready soon.”

“Thank you,” you say, and she leads you out of the room.

You sit in the waiting room and text Mitch that you’re done, and he tells you he’s outside, his meeting having finished a half hour prior.

The drive home is quiet, with a stop at the pharmacy to pick up your prescription. When you get back to the apartment you head straight for your bedroom, exhausted from the morning’s activities. Mitch joins you a few mimutes later, bringing lunch and your medicine with him.

He Facetimes Sarah as finish your food, and she and Harry answer. They ask how you’re feeling, and you shrug, too tired to come up with a full response. You take the medicine that Mitch gives you, and you fall asleep while they’re still on the phone, comforted by the sounds of their voices.

They stay on the call expressing their concern and Mitch assures them that he’s taking care of you. A few minutes later they hang up, and Mitch carefully cleans up lunch. He’s about to lay down next to you again when you wake up.

“Hey, how are you doing?” He asks.

“The same I guess. Don’t you have another meeting to be at?”

“Yea it’s in a little while, but I can cancel and stay home with you.”

“Mitch, really, I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yes I’m sure! Go, you’ve got important stuff to do.”

“You’re important,” he replies.

You nearly respond sarcastically but instead you find yourself blushing at his words. He leans down to kiss you, and you’re very grateful that you’re not contagious and can still do this when sick. It’s the first kiss you’ve shared with him since Sunday, and it feels like home.

He pulls away, pressing a kiss to your head and gets ready for his meeting. He checks in with you again before leaving and you reassure that you have everything you need and plan to stay in bed watching movies the whole time he’s gone. He walks out of the room and comes back a minute later, one of your cats under each of his arms. Mitch places them on the bed with you, gives you a final kiss and a “love you” and leaves the apartment.

Mitch is gone for a movie and a half, walking in partway through the 2nd live action Scooby Doo.

He sees what you’re watching and looks almost guilty.

“What?” you ask after seeing his expression.

“I was on the phone with Sarah and Harry while I drove home. They’re concerned about you traveling when you’re not feeling well.”

Your first instinct is to immediately reply that they’re being ridiculous, that you’ll be fine. But instead, you say, “We have 2 full days until the flight to LA. Let’s just play it by ear and decide on Sunday, okay?”

“Okay, that’s fair,” he replies.

“And even if I’m not better by then I could always just fly out Tuesday. You guys will look silly without your Daphne!”

“I still can’t believe you convinced us all to have Scooby Doo as the costumes for Harryween.”

“I can’t believe you chose to be Scrappy Doo.”

“Well Pauli already claimed Scooby. What was I supposed to do?”

“Pick a normal villain from the show, like everyone else?”

“But I wanted to be a dog for Halloween!” he practically whines as he plops in the bed next to you.

You smile fondly, loving when you got to see this side of him. You weave your fingers through his hair and you’re both quiet for the rest of the movie.

Mitch dotes on you for the rest of the weekend, insisting that you do nothing other than rest and get better. He prepares food, brings you your medicine, and carries you with him whenever you’re feeling particularly clingy.

While you hate being sick, you love the excuse to slow down for a few days. Everything is always so hectic for the four of you, and a weekend of nothing but cuddles on the couch with comfort movies and shows in the background is nearly perfect. It would be completely perfect if Sarah and Harry were also there. And if you didn’t still feel like crap.

You slowly got better, and by Sunday morning you were confident that the anti-fungal medicine was working, and you were officially on the mend. It took a lot of convincing the others, but by Sunday afternoon you and Mitch were seated next to each other flying back to Los Angeles.

It’s late when you land, and you go directly to Harry’s place. He and Sarah are waiting outside and rush to the car to help with your bags. The boys bring the luggage inside and Sarah wraps an arm around your waist and walks with you.

You spend the first few minutes there telling everyone repeatedly that you’re fine, just a bit tired. And you’re telling the truth. Your fever is gone, the chills and body aches going with it, and you have only a mild cough. Even if you hadn’t been sick the last couple days you’d be tired after traveling coast to coast.

That night you sleep in between Harry and Sarah, Mitch on Sarah’s other side knowing the other two needed to feel you close to them.

You wake up in the middle of the night, knowing you’re about to have another coughing fit, and try to sneak out of bed so you don’t wake anyone. Unfortunately, Sarah is wrapped around you so tightly that you can’t escape. You start to cough, turning into the pillow to try and muffle the sound but the others wake up anyway.

They all fuss over you, Sarah rubbing your back in an attempt to soothe you. Finally, you stop coughing, but you keep your face pressed into the pillow. You don’t want them to see the tears in your eyes, knowing how much more worried they’ll be if they see that. You can’t help it though, between the breathlessness and the chest pain the coughing brings, your eyes have no choice but to water.

You try to calm yourself with some deep breaths, but that just causes you to start coughing again. This time you turn into Sarah, needing the comfort her hold brings you.

“Sorry,” you eventually say. “I didn’t mean to wake everyone up.”

“Are you okay, love?” Harry asks. “That didn’t sound good at all.”

“I’m okay, my lungs are just a bit irritated.”

“Are you in any pain?” He questions. You know he’s very familiar with lung issues, having dealt with asthma in the past, and you know that he’ll be able to tell if you’re lying.

“My chest hurts a bit, but it’s really not that bad.”

He gives you a look, like he doesn’t believe you, so you hold his hand and say, “I promise, it’s not that bad. It’s already getting better.”

“C’mere,” he says, pulling you to him. You straddle his lap, tucking your face into his neck. You melt into his embrace, loving the feeling of his strong arms wrapped around you. Even though you still feel sick, being surrounded by the three people you love fills you with warmth.

Somehow you fall asleep still sitting up with Harry holding you. When you wake up the next morning you’re still in that position. Harry is asleep beneath you, leaning back against the headboard.

The last thing you want is to wake him again, especially since there’s a show tonight. You open your eyes and see Mitch and Sarah are also sleeping, wrapped in each other’s arms. It’s a perfect start to the day, and you note that you feel much better than the last few days.

It’s not much later that everyone begins to stir. It’s already mid-morning but there’s enough time before they need to be at the venue, so no one is in any rush to get up. Sarah does demand that you switch to her lap, saying that everyone else has gotten more cuddles with you and it’s her turn. You go willingly; something about her soft embrace that comforts you immensely.

Eventually you do all get up to eat and shower before going together to the Forum. You stay backstage and get ready while they do soundcheck, wanting the set list to remain a surprise until the show. You love the group costume that was chosen for night 1, everyone dressing as their own version of Barbie or Ken, you included.

When the others get backstage they compliment you on your look and you smile bashfully at the attention. It’s a bit chaotic with everyone getting ready and having a quick dinner. Finally, you say good bye to the others, give Harry a kiss, and head to the floor to watch the show.

You don’t go out yet, knowing that the fans will notice you once you do, and you don’t want to give away the costume theme. As soon as the show officially begins you walk to the fenced off section for friends and family in the back of the pit.

You’re still not feeling 100%, and the lights and loud music are a bit disorienting, but you don’t let that show. This is your first time attending Harry’s concert as his official girlfriend, and you know that people are going to be watching you, judging you.

Even though you’re still a bit under the weather, you have a great time at the concert. You’re so happy that the set list was a surprise, and you know a fan nearby got your reaction to the start of Canyon Moon, one of your favorites that you hadn’t heard live before.

As always, harry puts on a perfect show. You love watching the fans and checking out all of their costumes. He does the whale to close out the concert and your face hurts from smiling so much. You feel exhausted, and look forward to getting home, but it was worth pushing through.

To no one’s surprise you fall asleep on Harry’s shoulder during the drive home. Sarah and Mitch are in a different car, since you had run out with Harry the second the show ended. You wake up at home, laying on the bed while Harry is taking your shoes off.

“Hi, lovey,” he says as you sit up, your legs dangling off the end of the bed with Harry standing between them. You reach your arms up, placing your hands on his face and gently pulling so he knows to lean down. As soon as he’s close enough you press your lips to his in a sweet kiss.

“Hi baby,” you say once you break the kiss. “You did great tonight.”

“Yea? Liked the show?”

“Loved it. Always do.”

He smiles at that, dimples popping out on each cheek. “How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Good. Sleepy, but otherwise I feel fine.”

“That’s a relief,” he replies. “Hated seeing you sick. Hated knowing you were sick, and I couldn’t be there to make you feel better.”

“Well, I feel much better now. All healed up.”

He flashes his dazzling smile again, and you pull him in for another kiss.

“Let’s get ready for bed,” he says as he breaks the kiss a minute later.

The two of you are halfway through your nighttime routines when Mitch and Sarah get home. Before long the four of you are cuddled in bed, Harry quietly humming something that sounds oddly similar to “I’m Just Ken.”

The four of you go out the next morning since you want to see a bit of the city. They each choose a couple of their favorite spots to show you before you all need to get to the venue. You again get yourself ready as they do another quick soundcheck, one of the stylist’s helping you with the red wig you’ll need as Daphne.

Once Harry is in his Fred costume the two of you take some pictures together. Night 2 is the same as Night 1, except you’re a bit more worn out from walking through the city all morning. As much as you insist to the others that you’re not sick anymore, that’s not completely true. Your head is pounding by the end, and you feel slightly dizzy. On more than one occasion you feel like your heart is beating out of your chest, it’s racing so fast.

You do everything to keep a smile on your face and not show how you’re feeling. For the first time ever, you feel relieved when the show is over. You enjoyed it of course, but you can’t wait to lay down, which will hopefully stop the world from spinning.

You’re quiet on the drive home, but still able to hide your symptoms from Harry. Once home you get ready for bed, falling asleep before Mitch and Sarah even get back.

The next morning is slightly chaotic as the four of you need to be at the airport fairly early. It’s not until you’re all seated on the private plane that they pick up on the fact that you’re kind of out of it. You claim to just be tired, but you know that they don’t buy it and are all watching you closely.

You’re seated next to Sarah and fall asleep on her shoulder shortly into the flight. When you start to wake up a couple hours later you shift, tucking your face into her neck. Mitch catches Sarahs concerned face, asking, “What’s wrong?”

“She feels warm,” Sarah answers. She places her hand on the back of your neck, noting how hot your skin has become. The boys are both immediately worried, each reaching over to feel for themselves.

You lift your head up and give them all a look, silently asking why they’re all touching you.

“How are you feeling?” Harry asks. “Be honest with us, please.”

You take a moment to assess before answering, “Kind of dizzy. And cold. And sore.”

“Anything else, love?” Sarah says.

“Maybe a bit nauseous? But not that bad, really.” Despite your insistence that you weren’t going to throw up, Mitch gets up to grab an airsick bag just in case.

“How long until we land?” he asks as he sits back down across from you.

“About an hour,” Harry answers before he turns to you and asks if you need anything.

“I’m fine,” you reply. “Can you just, uhm. Can you maybe sing?”

“Of course I can love. Any requests?”

You shake your head, tucking back into Sarah’s side. Harry begins to sing, and you take deep breaths, trying to keep any nausea and dizziness at bay.

It’s a difficult hour, and a rough landing has you nearly reaching for the airsick bag but you’re able to hold it back.

You all get home mid-afternoon, and you immediately start to unpack. You know that if you don’t you’ll just leave the suitcase for days. When you’re done you head back to the living room where you find Harry sitting on the couch.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“Ordering dinner. Don’t think anyone is up for cooking tonight.”

You sit next to him, putting a random show on TV for background noise. You grab a blanket, wrapping yourself in it to fight off the chills. You lean against Harry who wraps an arm around you. Mitch and Sarah join you two and you guys finish ordering food and sit together quietly while you wait for it to be delivered.

Once it’s there you all move to the kitchen table. You don’t have much of an appetite but try to eat some of your dinner. The others notice that you don’t eat much, but they don’t push it, knowing that your stomach is still bothering you.

Everyone changes into comfy clothes after dinner, and you head back to the living room couch. You’re in between Harry and Sarah, Mitch trailing behind in the bathroom for a minute. You wonder what’s holding him up but understand when he walks out with your medicine box.

He takes your temperature, frowning when he sees you once again have a high fever. You take the medicine he hands you before curling into Sarah’s side. Her hand slides through your hair and rubs your back, and you focus on those comforting touches.

You all watch a movie before deciding it’s time to head to bed. You stand from the couch, taking a moment to steady yourself as a wave of dizziness washes over you.

Your heart is beating incredibly fast again, and you’re having trouble catching your breath. The others stand around you, asking questions that you can’t hear over the pounding of your heartbeat.

You meet Harry’s eyes for a moment before everything goes dark and you collapse into his arms.

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

@akkatz @pandeebearstyles @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @theekyliepage @numafarawayglxy @booberry019-blog @hillzrry @ssareidbby @gem1712 @acesofspadess @houseofdilfs @shaquille-0atmeal-1 @kissitnhekitchen @amateurduck @poguestyleskye @n0vaj3an

AN: Thank you again for reading this story! There will be a part 2 to this!

#harry styles x reader #mitch rowland x reader #mitch rowland x sarah jones x reader #sarah jones x reader #mitch rowland x harry styles #sarah jones x mitch rowland x reader

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valeffelees · 7 months ago

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Oh do tell about that snowbaz au of yours 👀

I WOULD FUCKING LOVE TO, thank you so much tumblr user pidgelikethebird (and also my most beloved and loyal companion @drowninginships) for providing me the enrichment i need to survive the winter.

ok gimme a min here to turn my thoughts into comprehensible words. i'm gonna say right now: this post is gonna be a LONG one, but 10 out of 10 scientists agree you should read to the end.

so, if you didn't know, The Beauty Inside is a Korean romcom from 2015, based off an American short film of the same name; the orig short film i linked is an extremely quick watch (only 6 episodes, each one 4-10 minutes long) and i would absolutely recommend it, but the very basics of the premise is that: a man wakes up in his bed on his 18th birthday to find he's in a completely different body than his own, and every day since then, he wakes up as somebody new.

AND OBVS I JUST HAD TO FUCKING SNOWBAZ THAT, which is how my AU, titled In the Many Ways of Loving You, was born:

Simon Snow wakes up every day as somebody new; the only person who knows the truth is Penny, his best friend and roommate, since she's been by his side since it all began ten years ago.

he works on commission as a custom bookbinder—like, he has an Etsy or some shit, i dunno, some kinda online shop where people can commission him in a variety of ways to rebind their favourite books, either by paying extra for Simon to buy the book himself and rebind it from new and send it to them, or sometimes collectors will send their personal copies to him to have him rebind them, and he's very good at it, and N E WAY the point of this is that he has a small bookshop he's been going to regularly for the last eight or so years, because it's close to his and Penny's flat, and where the story begins: Baz is a new employee that just started working there about two weeks ago and Simon has a massive crush on him.

ok, now. day one: when we meet Simon for the first time, he wakes up and he's lovely and blonde and brown-eyed and ok, yeah, i've just made him look like Agatha bc i thought it'd be kinda funny, esp since Agatha's not actually in the fic otherwise.

and Simon has to pick up a copy of some random book from the bookshop today bc someone bought a custom binding of it, so he goes down and, as usual, since it's his job, Baz has to come over to talk to him and is like, "hey, can I help you with anything?" and Simon doesn't need any help bc he's been coming to this shop for years, but every time Baz asks he says yes bc he wants the excuse to talk to him, and on this day Simon is like, wait. i'm so hot rn. so he asks Baz out—

and Baz is like [finger guns] absolutely not.

and Simon is like 👁️👄👁️ welp i'm in fucking agony.

but whatever, fine. a guy like Baz is prolly already in a proper relationship, and it's always a bad idea for Simon to get involved with someone he has to see on the reg. he had to start going to a different coffee shop that's twenty minutes out of his way bc he went out on a great date with one of the baristas at his old spot and then obvs couldn't go out again after just that one time, and it made him super emo, so really, Baz saying no was prolly for the best.

TIMESKIP, it's been a few days and Simon has to go down to the bookshop again. but this time he's a bloke. and so Baz comes up to ask if Simon needs help and he says yeah, as usual, and the two of them end up having a bantery convo about the book Simon's looking for bc they've both read it and Baz hated it, but Simon loved it, and it's just very cute and casual, and then Baz is like. so, my shift ends in liiike... four hours. are you doing anything?

and Simon is like. OH. OH!!!

that whole "it's prolly for the best" thing? yeah, fuck that, that was Simon of the past, he doesn't know what the fuck he's talking about bc cute bookshop guy wants to hang out and so they go out and have the most fucking insane romcom date ever.

'cause you gotta remember, Simon only gets one real day with people, so he doesn't do like casual coffee dates or movies or whatever. they go out and like fucking B&E a museum after hours bc Simon knows someone like the janitor or something (i dunno) leaves one of the back doors unlocked so he can step out for a cig every few hours, so they sneak in and have the time of their life running around looking at art while trying not to get caught, and we're going to use the suspended disbelief bestowed upon us by the power of romcoms to pretend security cameras aren't a thing, and it is BRILLIANT. like, Simon and Baz have so much chemistry, and when the night ends Baz is just like all smiles and creased eyes and messy black hair and, breathlessly: "I want to see you again."

and Simon's heart drops. because he wants to see Baz again, too, but he can't. no matter how much he wants to, he can't. when he wakes up tomorrow he's going to be someone new, so he can't, he can't, he can't, he—

"Yeah," he says. "Tomorrow?"

SIMON NO!!!

"It's a date."

FUCK!!!

ok, so now we have a problem. Simon can't just stand him up, i mean he could but he doesn't want to, and he really does want to see him again, so he does the only thing he can think of: he stays awake. all fucking night.

Baz, the next day: "You look exhausted."

Simon, wired asf on caffeine and trying to be smooth: "Had someone on my mind all night."

and then they go have another wicked date, but i have nothing in my notes about what it is. oh, i have them living in Canada in this fic btw bc as a rule, if a fic doesn't have to be set in England, i move them to Canada for comfort. so i might have them go cliff jumping or something? who knows. we'll go with that for now.

cue the romcom montage.

[mother tongue starts playing SO DON'T SAY YOU LOVE ME FALA AMO, JUST LET YOUR HEART SPEAK UP AND I'LL KNOW]

ok. post-date. Simon is so dumb and infatuated with Baz and does something only a boy who is dumb and infatuated and sleep-deprived would do in his situation, and he goes back to Baz's flat with him to "watch a movie", or in other words: the movie starts and then they prolly have sex, but in my notes this is written as "??? smash ???" so i guess it's kinda up in the air.

either way, Simon passes the fuck out at Baz's place bc he was properly exhausted by that point, and he wakes up to Baz screaming at him bc obvs he looks like a different person now.

Simon, half-asleep: [PANICKED FLAILING] BAZ IT'S ME!!! STOP THROWING THINGS!!! BAZ!!! IT'S ME, IT'S SIMON!!!

and Baz is like: WHAT THE FUCK

and Simon is like: I CAN EXPLAIN

and Baz is like: HOW DID YOU GET IN HERE

and Simon is like: I CAN EXPLAIN!!!

so, here's a detail from the orig film that comes into play here: in the orig movie, the MC keeps a video diary, logging every day what his face looks like, and in this, Simon does this on his phone and backs them up to his computer every hundred days, so he gives Baz his phone and tells him the whole story while Baz scrolls through these short like minute long videos of Simon on various days going, "Hey, this is me today. I have [this and such] thing to do, blah blah blah."

and the thing is, Baz recognises him in some of them. bc Simon is always coming into the bookshop. he stops watching when he gets to the day Simon looked like Agatha, and Simon has been quiet for a while at this point, just letting Baz process.

Baz: "I want you to leave."

Simon takes his phone without a word and goes. Penny picks him up on the corner a block over and drives him back to their flat. she doesn't ask what happened. she already has a pretty good idea.

when Simon's next commission comes in, he thinks about going to another bookshop, he really does. but this one is so convenient, esp since Simon can't drive bc he can't risk getting pulled over carrying a licence that doesn't have his face on it, and he's been going there for eight years and it's not like Baz will recognise him anyway.

so, to the bookshop he goes, but this time when Baz comes up to ask if he needs help, Simon is like, "haha, no that's okay," and goes back to looking for things on his own, and Baz kinda lingers awkwardly for a moment before going on his way, but then when Simon comes up to the till to pay for the book, Baz just stands there staring at him. and Simon is so uncomfortable, like, he just wants to leave—

"Simon?"

SORRY, YOU WHAT?

"What?" Simon gapes at him. "How did— how did you? But I'm—"

"Can we talk?" Baz asks.

"How did you know it was—"

Baz shouts over to the other employee on the floor that he's taking his lunch break, and Simon just slowly follows him out of the shop with the book forgotten, unpaid for, at the check-out.

and here's the deal, Baz liked Simon a stupid amount considering they'd only gone on two dates, but they were good dates, and Baz doesn't date much, so he's a bit hung up on just how much he liked Simon and the weird way shit ended, so he's basically like. i want to see it again. and Simon is like, see what? and Baz is like, you. the... whatever that you do, i want to see you change.

and that's how Simon ends up bringing Baz back to his flat, and btw: Simon has a rule about never bringing people back to his flat bc it's weird as fuck. his room is really tiny, and it's cluttered as fuck in a Howl's bedroom type way. he keeps to the same cheap, casual style for all his clothes, but he needs things in a bunch of sizes. shoes are a nightmare. he has to take care of his hair in a million different fucking ways. so he has the lives of a dozen people shoved into a room the size of a shoebox, and his mattress has no frame. that shit is just on the floor, so it takes up less space. and there's this mirror, a wide full bodied mirror, propped up against the wall facing the bed, so that the first thing Simon can do each day is roll over and look at himself.

Simon and Baz have supper together, they talk, they pretend this isn't weird as fuck and, even though it is weird as fuck, they still have so much chemistry, and this is a fanfic, so they just end up having sex again but it's supposed to be kinda emo and tender and look, it's what my heart wants, ok?

morning comes. Simon wakes to Baz's hands on his face. which is already and improvement compared to last time. Baz is looking at him very seriously, but also very like. softly. he's touching Simon's features, tracing them, and Simon is quiet for a very long time, watching him do this, until he's just like. what are you doing.

Baz: "Getting to know you." A pause. "Why does it happen?"

Simon: "I don't know."

Baz: "Are there other people like you?"

Simon: "I don't know."

Baz, sighing: "Well, what do you know?"

Simon: "That I'm still me. Inside, I mean. Like... if you had a book, and every day you gave it a new cover, the story wouldn't change."

Baz: "You must get lost on a lot of shelves."

Simon: "Yeah."

and from there, Baz is just a part of Simon's life the same way Penny is, he knows the truth, and he deals with it. for the first time in Simon's adult life, he gets to really date. he and Baz do a bunch of domestic shit together, for months, and it's so good. all of it is so good, all the time, and they fall so fucked up deep in love with each other.

(detail from this point that is relevant later: Baz and Simon make a game out of Baz recognising Simon at work on days when he hasn't seen yet what he looks like. Simon will come in and try to act like a stranger, but Baz can Where's Waldo him every time.)

but then Christmas comes. and Baz has to go home to see his family. and i don't have an exact idea of how this convo goes, only that it is not a fight of any kind, like, it is a normal convo about the holidays but Baz apologises to Simon during it for not telling his family about him, he says they'd want Baz to bring Simon home if he did (bc i just don't wanna fuck with homophobia in this so we've shot Malcolm with the ally beam) and he wouldn't know how to explain Simon's whole... thing to them, and Simon kinda realises that like. he can't ever be the type of boyfriend Baz can bring home to his family. he can't ever be the type of boyfriend Baz gets to have a normal life with.

SO SIMON GHOSTS HIM.

like, Baz comes back from his family's place, annoyed that Simon hasn't returned any of his texts or calls, only to find that Simon and Penny have literally fucking moved flats in the two weeks he's been gone. and obvs he's fucking devastated and confused by this and desperately trying to get Simon to respond to him, but he won't.

Simon goes out of his way to find a new bookshop to go to, and that's the end of things for about a week or so, and i haven't actually decided what happens here exactly, but the general idea i wanna go with is that Simon goes to the bookshop Baz works at just for the sake of seeing him, checking up on him, bc he misses him.

but remember that game they played? so yeah, Baz walks up to say his usual like, "hey, can I help you find anything?" but he fucking clocks Simon after like ten seconds.

scene change: they're in Simon's new flat, like maybe Baz demanded that if Simon is going to break up with him he owes it to him to do it goddamn properly, but i dunno. details, details. but they end up getting in a huge fucking fight and Simon reveals the reason he ghosted Baz was bc he realised Baz can't have a real life with him and Baz is like:

"You don't get to decide that for me! You're still you, you're still lovely—"

"You don't even know what I look like!"

"I don't care what you look like, you fucking moron, I care that you're Simon Snow! There's a person inside you that exists every day, even when everything else changes, and he's lovely. I love him. The rest doesn't matter, how can you not see that? Stop telling me I'm not allowed to love you however you are, I'll love you a hundred different ways, Simon. Any size, any shape. I'll love you over, and over, and over. That's a life for me. A real life for me. You!"

and then Simon throws his arms around Baz's neck and hugs him like he needs him to breathe and Baz clings to his shirt and they're both prolly crying all loud and gross, but it's fine. they're gonna be fine.

the next day: Simon wakes up to Baz's mouth on the back of his neck. "Like this one, then?" he says.

"Loveliest yet." Baz brushes his knuckles over the slope of Simon's shoulder. "Freckles, curls, broad shoulders... Mmm, maybe we should stay in bed today."

Simon laughs and rolls over to pin Baz to the mattress, grinning at him. he goes to say something, prolly rib at him the way they do, but as he does he catches his reflection in that mirror he keeps by his bed and he freezes.

"Holy shit!" he shouts, and shoves himself up onto his knees. "That's me!"

Baz rolls his eyes. "Yes, yes, I told you—"

Simon shakes his head furiously. "No, it's. Baz. I'm. Jesus fucking Christ, that's me. Baz, that's me."

Baz sits up slowly. "Do you mean—"

"Fuck, holy shit!" Simon grabs his curls with both hands. he hasn't touched these curls in ten fucking years. he looks older than he remembers himself, which is a given, but it's definitely him. his father's eyes, his mother's chin. the moles on his cheek, above his eyebrow, below his ear.

Simon freaks out in a way that kinda toes the line between being happy and being a breakdown, he throws himself at Baz, and they both fall back onto the bed and Simon is laughing and he's shaking and he doesn't understand, he doesn't get it, but holy fuck, he has his own face, he has his own body, he has his own hands. Baz pushes them apart so he can get a look at him, and Simon is actually kinda self-conscious when he does, which is a new feeling. he never has to feel self-conscious about anything, usually, since he knows every flaw or insecurity isn't really his, and will be gone the next day, but this is just... him.

Baz takes Simon's face in his hands and then, breathlessly, "Hello, Simon Snow."

AND THEN THEY KISS bc what else would they do here.

and uhh, yeah. so. Simon goes out to the kitchen where Penny is making breakfast and she loses her shit when she sees him. big hugs all around. Baz really does take the day off work to spend it with Simon, even though that just means lying around on the sofa watching movies while Simon works on his current rebinding commission. when Penny gets home that evening, they order takeaway and sit around the lounge room playing boardgames together until late, late, late into the night. Penny falls asleep in the armchair, and now it's 3-am.

Simon is tired. he's looking at the clock, sitting with his knees up and his arms around them, with Baz beside him. Baz has his forehead on his shoulder, an arm around his waist. he doesn't want to go to bed, because what if... what if it was only for today. how long will it be until the next time? what if there is no next time, what if, what if—

"We'll still be here," Baz whispers, exhausted. "And you'll still be you. No matter what, Simon."

and so they go to bed.

Simon wakes up to Baz's mouth on the back of his neck.

"Good morning, Simon Snow."

AND YEAH, that is the entire plot of my The Beauty Inside AU.

i told you this was gonna be a long one, but if you've made it all the way to the end of this mess, thank you kindly again for indulging me!

#ngl i wanted to sign up for the cobb with this fic idea really bad but at the time i wasnt confident i could manage #taking part in a fandom event. i might think about signing up for it next year if it runs again but who knows #thanks for hanging out!#snowbaz #ask #pidgelikethebird

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fiction-is-life · 2 years ago

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Congrats on 500 babe! You deserve every single one of them and so many more 🤍 Can’t wait to see you continue to grow and flourish 🦋 love you so much

Can I please request an angsty but fluffy blurb based on this prompt “You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.” with Rafey baby? I will cry 🥹

Need You

Author's Note: Aww, thank you so much!!! You are too sweet! Thank you for always commenting/reblogging my fics, you seriously don't know how much it means to me! I hope you like this one, I almost cried making it! 💕

Summary: Rafe is lost without you.

Warnings: Pregnancy/labor complications, mention of surgery, depiction of a coma, possibly unrealistic depiction of pregnancy/labor complications

It had been over a week. Eight days, thirteen hours, and forty-six minutes to be exact.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. For the past seven and a half months, your pregnancy had gone off without a hitch. Every sonogram, every little kick, was a source of joy for both you and Rafe.

Sure, you were young, practically still kids, but you knew you were meant to be. You had been planning your life after college for years, even before you had started to date. You were just doing things a little out of order.

But then you had gone into labor early - six weeks too early to be precise. The doctors said you were lucky to be alive, let alone fortunate that the baby had survived. They had said that it was a condition called placenta previa, but Rafe hadn’t been listening. He was still looking at your seemingly lifeless body on the operating table as they handed him the baby, asking for a name.

But he couldn’t even bring himself to name the baby. He knew it was a boy, but it didn’t feel right to do something so monumental while you were still not awake. He let his dad and Rose handle everything else, let them make him eat and listen to the doctors say they didn’t have much hope.

Rafe hadn’t even let himself cry - he was still too stunned to do so. He just sat at your side, watching you. On the eighth day he broke down, exhausted and drained, and he started to talk to you.

“He’s healthy, you know,” he said, his voice raspy from disuse. “He’s perfect. Ten fingers, ten toes.” He took a shaky breath - the only kind he knew how to take these days. “He’s got your eyes. Rose says he has my smirk, though, so I don’t know if that is a good thing,” he chuckled.

He paused and took your hand, gently caressing it. He sniffed. “The nurses keep telling me all the stuff I’m going to have to do for the baby. I know we took those classes, but I feel so overwhelmed. I just can’t mess anything up for him, you know? I thought I was going to have you to help me. You have always been there, (Y/N/N), ever since we were kids. Always so level-headed, getting us out of trouble wherever we found it.”

Tears started to roll down his face, slowly, but he couldn’t feel them. “You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you,” he sobbed, finally letting himself feel the emotions that had been pent up for over a week. He buried his head in your hand, kissing it and covering it in tears in equal measure.

He sat there for what seemed like forever, simply expelling all of the grief and terror from his body. When he finally looked up, he gasped and started crying anew.

You were awake. Rafe leapt out of his seat to kiss your beautiful lips carefully, his trembling on top of yours. When he pulled back, his heart caught in his throat, and all he could manage to say was a small, “Hey.”

You giggled lightly, still tired. “Hey,” you replied, also lost for words as Rafe once again took your hand to kiss it reverently.

Rafe smiled, his eyes shining with love as they always did when they looked at you. He took a deep breath and swallowed before licking his lips as he always did when nervous. “Would you like to meet our son?”

You just smiled, and Rafe knew that everything was finally going to be alright.

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sweetprfct · 5 months ago

Text

Permanent December

Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Sara have been best friends for a while now and when Sara had started dating Wes, you realized he also had a best friend. Joe. But somehow, you and Joe tend not to get along all the time.

Author's Note: Part 3, enjoy! :)

Wordcount: 5.8K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five - part six - part seven - part eight - part nine - part ten

Joe was the last person you thought you would see tonight. He stood there in front of you, his curls in disarray, and he was wearing his usual button up and trousers outfit. On his hand was a small gift box wrapped messily, almost like he was in a hurry to wrap it up, or he just didn’t know how to wrap a gift. Then, that guilt you have been feeling washed over you again.

“Hey.” He gave you a small smile.

You fucked up. You did. Really bad.

You haven’t seen Joe for a week since that night at the pub. The night where you decided to act like an idiot and just went off on him. You had told him to leave you alone, so why were you surprised that he actually did? Why were you now feeling guilty for telling him how you felt? Did you react the right way that night?

Probably not.

But Joe deserved it, didn’t he? For being such an ass to you for years. But how come you felt guilty over it? How come you wished he would show up in one of your little outings with Wes and Sara, hoping you could talk to him about that night? You got what you asked for, so why were you feeling like this?

“No Joe?” Sara had asked Wes one day when he picked you both up from the hotel.

The four of you were supposed to walk around The British Museum for the day just to show you more of London, and Joe apparently had told Sara that he was coming when she invited him, but he was a no show.

Again.

It had been two days now since his presence had disappeared from the three of you, and Wes hasn’t really said anything. He has given you and Sara the same answer.

“No, he has some photoshoot or something.” Wes replied.

Work again.

The same excuse he had given both of you, but you knew the real answer, didn’t you? You knew that he probably didn’t have work and that he was avoiding you because of that night. You wondered if he had told Wes. You wondered if Wes knew, and he just hadn’t said anything.

You wondered if Wes knew, did Sara know too? Were they both just keeping it quiet? Did Joe tell them not to mention it? All the thoughts started reeling in your mind, and you kept looking for little reactions from both Wes and Sara the whole day and throughout the week, but they were both perfectly normal. Wes hasn’t changed the way he treated you, and Sara? Well, Sara was the same also. You tried to really push that guilt feeling down and tried to forget about it.

You kept telling yourself that he deserved it. He deserved what you told him that night. That you were right. That he did hate you for years now, and he just had to tolerate you because Wes was with Sara, and you were bestfriends with his best friend's girlfriend. And that if he had a choice, he probably wouldn’t even want you in his life. He just tried his best to tolerate you, while you tried your best to be nice to him. For Sara and Wes. That was it.

But ugh.

How come you kept feeling this way? Then, the week had gone by and he was a no show to all the little outings you, Sara and Wes had done. Even just hanging out at Wes’ apartment and drinking, he was also a no show, which was an unusual thing. Eventually, Sara had even stopped asking Wes where he was because the answers were always the same.

Work.

But you? You never believed one excuse Wes had told both of you. You knew the real reason, and you didn’t even tell them. You didn’t even tell Sara, who you told everything to because you were ashamed. You were guilty for driving away her boyfriend’s best friend. You didn’t need to add more conflict to this situation.

That morning, you were awakened by some rustling on the door. You weren’t awake all the way yet, but you could hear some whispering and the gentle close of the door. You knew Sara had an extra spare key for your room, so you figured it was her, but you heard more than one voice.

“Shh…” Sara whispered.

“Hold on…”

You adjusted yourself a little bit on your bed and slowly fluttered your eyes open when you heard Sara and Wes start singing happy birthday to you. You couldn’t help but smile and rub your eyes to get rid of the sleep. They stood next to your bed with Sara holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers and balloons, while Wes was holding a sprinkle covered cake with one candle lit up on top.

They were so sweet.

Sara always knew how to make your birthday special and ever since Wes had appeared in your lives, they both had always done something so special for your birthday. The room was still dark from the curtains that covered the windows as you sat up on your bed and watched them finish singing happy birthday to you. The only thing lighting up the room was the little light from the small candle.

You laughed and clapped your hands playfully after they finished singing. “Thank you.”

“C’mon. Make a wish.” Wes leaned the cake closer to you as you closed eyes and pretended to make a wish.

You really didn’t know what to wish for because honestly, who still did birthday wishes? It wasn’t like it would come true. The only wish you probably had at the moment was to get rid of this guilt feeling, but you didn’t even wish for that because at the same time, you felt like you kind of deserve to feel this way after what you said. So, after a few seconds, you opened your eyes and blew out your candle.

“Happy Birthday!” Sara handed you the bouquet of peonies and tied the balloon string on the back of the chair before sitting at the edge of the bed and pulled you into a tight hug.

“Thank you. You guys are so sweet. Really.”

You watched as Wes set the cake down on the table and turned to face both of you, clapping his hands together. “Alright, I will leave you girls alone and have your little celebration.”

You furrowed your brows, gazing up to him. “Wait, where are you going?”

“Unfortunately, I have something to finish today for work, but we will celebrate it together, I promise. You girls deserve a day for yourselves without me tagging along.”

You watched Sara whisper a thank you to Wes, and he gave her a loving smile before leaning in to kiss her. You couldn’t help but smile and look away, feeling like you were interrupting something between them. You definitely loved that about Wes. He was always understanding with Sara, and he was never possessive or jealous. That was why their relationship was easy. They trusted each other, and they both knew how to be their own individual person even if they were together.

“Happy Birthday again.” Wes leaned in to hug you. “You two have fun!” He smiled excitedly before leaving the room.

You turned to Sara and saw a playful grin tugging on her face. “C’mon. Go get ready.”

“Where are we going?” You asked, getting up from your bed. “Do I have to wear something fancy for your little plans?”

“No,” Sara chuckled. “I was thinking of going to the West End, have a little brunch and shopping?”

You pouted both of your lips before smacking them together and nodded your head in agreement. “Sounds great to me!”

You made your way to the bathroom and got yourself ready for the day. You were glad that you two were doing something together because honestly, you really needed it. You needed to get your mind off of the guilt feeling that was slowly eating you up inside and maybe some retail therapy and some delicious food was what you needed.

You and Sara took the tube that day and found yourselves in a cute little restaurant, sitting outside and enjoying the sun. It was cold, but the sun was out today and maybe you thought that was a sign that it was going to be a good day at least.

Your table was filled with different breakfast foods, and you couldn’t help but think how Sara really went all out for your little brunch with her. You loved it though because both of you were such foodies that you two would eat anything and maybe regret it later because your stomach would start hurting. It was always like that with you two. When you were happy and wanted to try everything, you two would do it with no hesitation.

You took a sip of your coffee and watched the people walk down the streets of London, watching them get on with their busy lives for the day.

“So, how does it feel to be 27?” Sara asked, sipping her coffee.

You let out a deep breath and didn’t even know how to answer that. “You know, I feel old but at the same time, I don’t. I feel like I’m not ready for all this adult shit sometimes.”

“Oh, I feel you. I totally understand.” You watched Sara take a bite of her crêpe and paused for a moment before saying, “You know Wes and I have been talking about our relationship.”

Uh oh.

You carefully studied Sara’s expression, hoping the next thing she was going to tell you wasn’t going to be bad news.

“And?” You asked nervously.

Suddenly, a smile appeared on Sara’s face. “It’s so crazy how long we have been together. It feels like it was just yesterday but at the same time, it feels like we have been together forever.”

A sigh of relief came over you as you listened to Sara. You were scared there for a second that she was going to tell you it wasn’t working out between them. Not like it was any of your business, but you saw how happy they were together, and you really were rooting for them to be together at the end.

“Are you happy with him?” You couldn’t help but ask.

“Very.” Sara’s cheeks suddenly turned red. “I don’t know. I just can’t explain it.”

“You think he’s the one?”

Sara bit her lower lip and nodded her head softly. She didn’t need words to answer that question because it was written all over her face.

Oh, she really was in love.

“How about you?” Sara asked.

You froze for a moment, trying to understand her question. What about you? In love? With who?

“Me?”

“Yes, are you gonna go out there?”

You sighed and just took another sip of your coffee, shrugging your shoulders. You didn’t really think about being in a relationship at the moment. You told yourself that whoever comes that was meant for you will come. Plus, your mind was somewhere else at the moment, trying to kill you softly.

“I’m not worried about that right now.” That was all you could answer.

You were glad that Sara didn’t press the subject on you after that. Relationships weren’t exactly a good thing in your life. You never really had a good one. You always tried your best to make things work but in the end, they just never do. It wasn’t something you thought you were really good at. You thought maybe you were better off alone anyway. Have your little solitude.

“So, why don’t we find a birthday outfit?” Sara suggested as soon as you two were done with brunch.

Ah, there it was. Sara’s usual not so discreet little plans.

It was always like that every year too. She would either act like she wasn’t planning anything for you and then next thing you know, she was getting you a nice outfit. Another year was when you woke up on your birthday and the first person that greeted you was Wes, and Sara? She was nowhere to be found. You knew it was unusual when you had spent the day walking around the city with Wes, hearing him talk about sports and how expensive makeup was when you had dragged him to Sephora.

“Fucking bloody hell.” He would curse under his breath when he saw the price of one lipstick. “For a fucking lipstick?!”

You gave him a small shrug and picked out three different colors because it was your birthday after all and you deserve something nice. Not to mention how your best friend had forgotten about it, and you were stuck with her boyfriend all day.

“You know they are all the same colors, right?” Wes argued.

“Shut up. No, they are not.”

“Yes, they are!” He took the three tubes of lipstick and showed you all the different shades together. “Pink, pink, and pink!”

“Excuse me!” You grabbed the lipsticks from him and threw it back on the little basket you were holding. “They are totally different shades.”

“How?!”

“Because I said so!” You barked back.

“Oh, I’m convinced!” He said sarcastically.

You rolled your eyes and grabbed the tube of lipsticks again from your little basket and pointed each one on his face. “Blush, coral and… ballet slipper.”

Telling Wes that a lipstick shade was called “ballet slipper” got him even more in distress.

“Where the fuck is the ballet slipper coming from?” Wes furrowed his brows.

“What’s the color of a ballet slipper, Wes?”

“P…Pink…?” He uttered, hesitation in his voice for a moment.

“Exactly.” You threw the tube of lipsticks back in the little basket and as you walked away from him you heard his little “I still think they’re all the same pink” grumble behind you.

You shook your head and couldn’t help but chuckle as you continued to walk away from him before you could hear him talk about the prices of foundations or powders. You had spent the rest of your day getting an earful from Wes about makeup prices until you two had gone back to Sara’s apartment, only to find the whole place decorated with birthday balloons and confetti.

On the table, there were different kinds of your favorite food and your favorite sprinkle covered birthday cake. Then, you understood why you were tortured all day listening to Wes complain about makeup because Sara was busy preparing a surprise for you.

Walking down the streets of London, thinking back at all those years, you couldn’t help but smile and slip your arm with Sara’s. Both of you giggling and walking together with your linking arms and went to each store that you both found interesting. It took a while for you two to find something you actually like, and Sara wasn’t giving up until you were able to find the perfect birthday outfit. You didn’t even bother asking what her plans were, you just went along with it and enjoyed your day.

“How about this?”

You were sitting outside the fitting room, feeling defeated that you didn’t find anything you like in probably the 5th store you have gone to. Sara came out with an emerald green dress that hugged all her curves with some black tall boots that went along with it.

You smiled and nodded your head. “That’s the one. I think that’s perfect!”

“I know right? I think so too!” She turned to look at herself in the mirror before her eyes shifted to the reflection of you behind her. “Haven’t found a good one yet?”

You shook your head and exhaled sharply. “Do I have to really pick a birthday outfit?” Your voice almost sounded whiney.

“Absolutely!” Sara made her way back in the fitting room. “Let me finish changing, I’ll go pay, and we can check next door. Who knows, maybe you’ll find something there.”

And she was right.

You did find something there. A bit expensive, but it was your birthday, wasn’t it? So, you went for it. It was a sequin mini black blazer dress with a deep neckline and oh god, it made you look sexy as hell. You paired it with some black strappy heels and even Sara knew right away that it was the dress. You both didn’t even try to look for any more options because you already have decided that it was the one.

It was perfect.

You both walked out of that store wearing your new dresses under your winter coats, holding hand in hand as Sara dragged you back to the tube and just like you expected, she did have a plan because you had found yourself walking down the street that was all too familiar. You have only been in London for a little more than two weeks, and you have memorized the important spots already.

So, you knew what street you were on. You knew Sara was dragging you towards Wes’ building and just as you entered, the dark room was filled with light and Wes and their friends shouted “surprise!” to you.

“Oh my god.” You laughed, turning to Sara.

You were a bit embarrassed, feeling the blood rushed to your cheeks. The room was filled with balloons hanging all the way to the ceiling. Confetti, food, and drinks everywhere, while Wes turned up the volume of the music from the speaker. You’ve only known their friends for two weeks, and they were so welcoming and nice to you. Now, they have helped throw you a surprise party?

“Was this your idea?” You whispered to Sara.

“Happy Birthday.” She smiled at you.

How the hell did you deserve these kinds of people in your life? You were nothing but thankful for all of them. You went around the room and thanked each of your newly found friends and said hi to them. It was another fantastic surprise that Sara had made for you. You looked over your shoulder and watched her giggle over something Wes had told her before they danced together with the music, making you chuckle softly and grab yourself a drink. You spent the night, mingling and talking with your new friends, getting to know them a lot better.

Though, later that night, when you entered the kitchen to get some more food, you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander around the room. You scanned every person in the room. Something was missing. Not something.

Someone.

You took a sip of your beer and ate a piece of baby carrot, your eyes planted at the front door for a few minutes when Sara suddenly interrupted your thoughts.

“He couldn’t make it tonight.” Sara said as if she was reading your mind.

You weren’t surprised. Sara could basically read your mind in an instant anyway. Both of you were able to do that with each other, honestly.

“Who?” You asked casually, hoping that she was actually talking about someone else.

Sara rolled her eyes, brushing your hair softly on your back. It was a way for her to comfort you. But you didn’t need comforting, didn't you?

Maybe.

“You don’t have to pretend.” Sara stated.

“I’m not.” You shrugged, throwing away the empty bottle of beer that you were holding. “I told you he hates me. That’s not a surprise.”

All you did was watch Sara and Wes exchange looks before smirking at you.

“Trust me, he doesn’t hate you.” Wes joined in the conversation, handing you another bottle of beer. “He’s just been busy.”

“Sure.” You murmured under your breath and tried to change the subject.

Busy avoiding you.

You couldn’t let your thoughts control you tonight, so you put it at the back of your mind for the rest of the night and swallowed down the guilt you were feeling. Suddenly, you heard everyone sing happy birthday with Sara carrying a cake and walking towards you. You giggled softly, feeling a bit embarrassed and awkward, not really knowing how to react to all of this. After they finished singing, they all cheered and laughter filled the apartment.

“Make a wish!” Voices echoed through the room.

You closed your eyes and pretended again to make a wish. This was the second time that you were asked to make a wish since Wes and Sara had surprised you this morning too with another cake. What did you want to wish for though? It already looks like you have received everything. Even the ones you didn’t mean to wish for. You bit your lower lip, scanning your eyes around the room before blowing the candle and everyone cheered loudly again.

“Thank you guys so much for tonight. You all are so sweet.” You announced, cheeks as red as a tomato.

You weren’t that used to having so much attention, especially from new people you just met. It had been a great party and honestly, you really did enjoy it. You had a few drinks, bought a new outfit and met some new people these last two weeks. You couldn’t ask for anything else for your birthday. It was all perfect.

“I can’t believe you bought two cakes.” You told Wes and Sara that night after the party.

Sara was helping dry off the plates that Wes was washing, and you were putting them away in the cupboard. Everyone had left already, and it was getting a bit late. You and Sara had offered to stay and help clean up. It was the least you could do to thank them for making this night wonderful.

“Well, now you have extra cake to eat tonight.” Wes addressed.

“Yeah, who knows. You might get hungry tonight.” Sara added as she handed you the last dish to put away on the cupboard.

“Well, you two are really sweet and I don’t know how many times I could say thank you for tonight. Seriously, it was all wonderful.”

Wes dried his hands off from the towel before wrapping an arm around Sara’s shoulders, pulling her close to him.

“You’re welcome. I’m glad you had fun.” He smiled, planting a soft kiss on Sara’s hair.

“You ready to go?” You asked Sara, grabbing your coat from the back of the chair.

It might have been a great birthday and a great night, but you were tired and the new shoes that you bought earlier with the dress were killing your feet. Your social battery had run out and all you wanted to do was get out of the dress, wipe off the makeup on your face and wear comfy clothes. Thinking about your hotel bed right now sounded so heavenly.

As you grabbed your things in the living room, you watched Sara and Wes whispering to each other back at the kitchen before watching Wes laugh and leaned in to kiss her.

They were so cute. So perfect.

As soon as Sara was ready, you thanked Wes one more time before leaving with Sara. The way home was mostly silent. You both were tired and had a long day. You had found yourself dozing off on Sara’s shoulder in the tube, and she had to wake you up when you arrived at your stop. You were glad the walk back to the hotel was only a few blocks away because you swore your feet were about to fall off from your heels.

“Thank you again.” You told Sara by the time you arrived at the hotel. “Just come knock on my door if you want to have a late night snack.”

Sara laughed softly. “I think I’m going to crash, honestly. Just save the cake. You might need it later.”

You gave her a tight hug and bid her goodnight before heading inside your room. A sigh of relief escaped your lips as soon as you kicked off your heels. You flopped yourself on the sofa and reached for the remote to turn on the TV. You let the noise of the TV play in the background as you closed your eyes and relaxed for a moment. You knew you needed to get up and change, but you were too tired to move. Too tired to do anything. It was until you heard a soft knock on your door a few moments later. You smiled, knowing that Sara probably changed her mind and came by to have a little piece of cake. You let out a soft grunt as you pulled yourself up from the couch and walked towards the door.

Turning the knob, you opened the door and stood frozen when you saw that it wasn’t Sara.

Joe.

He was the last person you were expecting to see tonight. In fact, you have accepted the fact that maybe he wasn’t going to show up anymore for the rest of the month until you have left London because of what you had said. He had that small gift box wrapped messily in his hands, his curls disarray, and a small smile on his face.

“Hey.” His voice was almost a whisper.

“J…Joe.” You cleared your throat when you heard your voice croak.

Oh god, that guilt was back.

That guilt you have swallowed down all night had come back up, and you felt like you were going to vomit. Seeing Joe in front of you made your stomach turn. Say something. Anything.

“Um… Sara’s room is the other door.” You made a stupid excuse, hoping he wasn’t actually here for you because why would he be?

You told him to leave you alone, remember?

“Actually, I came here for you.” He replied.

Oh, fuck.

“I was hoping to just drop this off for you.” Joe handed you the small gift box that he had been holding.

Your eyes shifted at the gift and stared at it for a moment. He came by late at night to drop off a present for you?

Why?

As you took the present from him, you felt his fingers accidentally brushed yours, and you swore you felt something inside of you. You didn’t know how to explain it, but it was something, and it was scaring you. Maybe it was the guilty feeling that had been softly killing you, but you didn’t know. You just couldn’t explain it.

“Thank you.” You murmured, giving him a small smile.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to your party tonight. I had some interviews and a podcast to do.” Joe softly scratched the back of his head.

“That’s okay. I understand.”

Silence.

There was that awkward silence between you two again. Maybe it was the time for you to actually talk to him about that night. But why did he have to show up tonight? When you were tired and probably won’t be able to find the right words to say. Joe’s expression was neutral. You couldn’t tell if what you said affected him, or he actually just didn’t care at all.

“Anyway,” Joe interrupted your little overthinking. “I should go. Happy Birthday.”

You froze in your place as he started walking away from you. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t get a word out, and you have to. You have to get those words out or else it was going to keep killing you on the inside. You have to move. You have to talk.

Dammit, say something. Do something!

“Have you eaten?” You called out, making him stop in his tracks halfway and turn back to you. Joe raised his brow at you, wondering why you asked. “Um… well… I have cake.”

You have cake? You’re so stupid.

“If you want a piece…” You continued as you watched him walk back towards you. “Because you know, you missed the party so…”

Shut up. Just shut up right now.

Joe shrugged casually and nodded his head. “Sure.”

You moved aside and opened the door wider for him to enter. You took a deep breath and closed the door behind you as he looked around your small hotel room, both his hands buried in his front pockets. You made your way to the small table in the corner of the room and took two paper plates and a plastic knife and a fork, cutting him up a piece from the cake that Sara and Wes had brought earlier.

“Sorry, I only have plastic utensils.” You said, handing him the plate.

“It’s alright.” He sat on the chair as you handed him a bottle of water before joining him.

You sat across the table from him and tried to think of how to start the conversation that you have been wanting to talk about for a week now.

“So, how was the party?” Joe asked before you could say anything.

“Good. It was really fun. Too bad you missed it.” You grinned. “Your friends… they’re all so great. So welcoming, kind and funny.”

“Yeah?”

For the first time ever, you saw him gave you a genuine smile. Not a forced fake one but an actual smile.

“They are fun.” He continued. “Especially when those idiots are drunk.”

A small actual joke too? You must be dreaming or this was your birthday present from the universe? Joe being nice to you. Joe smiling. Joe slowly opening up to you.

“Yeah, I could tell.” You giggled. “They get rowdy as the night goes on.”

Where the fuck did that came from? Why were you giggling like an idiot? Joe also let out a real laugh from your little comment, and you couldn’t help but wonder what was happening right now. Maybe he had a drink before he came here. Maybe you were the drunk one. It didn’t matter though because you still had to talk to him. You still feel guilty over what you said.

Once silence had washed over the walls of your room again, you purse your lips and tried to find the right words to start the conversation. You could feel Joe’s eyes on you and that didn’t help you at all.

“I’m sorry.”

Both of you apologized at the same time. Your eyes caught his chocolate brown ones before a small chuckle escaped his lips, and you couldn’t help but smile about it.

“Ladies, first.” He declared.

“I…” You cleared your throat. “I’m sorry for what I said that night. I was angry, and I was a bit drunk–”

“That’s okay.” He interrupted, a small reassuring smile creeping up on his face. “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have crossed boundaries or say stupid shit to you all the time. I know you could handle yourself and I was just trying–”

“That’s okay.” You gave him the same answer. “Actually, I was kind of glad you were there.”

“Yeah?” Joe bit his lower lip and looked down at his cake for a moment, his fork playing with the frosting. “You just looked uncomfortable with the guy…”

“I was.” You answered. “So, thank you. Thank you because you came.”

Joe gazed back up at you. Both of your eyes never left each other as you gave each other a genuine smile. For the first time in four years, it felt like something had shifted between you two. It was like the tension had lifted up a little bit, and you hoped that maybe it would continue. You hoped that you were actually going to see the man Sara had described to you for years now. When you both finished your slice of cake, Joe had grabbed his coat and slowly made his way towards the door.

“Thanks for the cake.” He said. “It’s getting late, and I should let you rest.”

You nodded your head, playing with your fingers softly. “Thanks for the gift. Stay safe going home.”

Joe nodded, didn’t say anything else and made his way out the door. “Happy Birthday again.”

You watched him walk down the hall and then stopped.

“Oh,” He called out, turning his body slightly to face you. “I don’t hate you.”

“I’m sorry?” You furrowed your brows.

“You said that night that I hate you.” He explained. “I don’t.”

“Oh.” That was all you could say.

“Never have. Never did.” He added before giving you a smile and continued to walk down the hall until he disappeared around the corner.

You closed the door behind you, leaning against it as you let out a deep sigh, grinning from ear to ear. So, Joe didn’t hate you. Joe never did. So, how come he was so distant? What was up with all the mean jokes? Your eyes caught the small gift box that he had given you that was sitting on the table. You picked it up and smirked at the way it was wrapped. Ripping it open, you found a small silver box in your hand. You opened the box and saw the exact replica of the raggedy old doll that you held back at the Christmas market in Germany. Only this was an ornament. A small letter was hidden behind it.

I know you thought I insulted you with this doll, but I didn’t.

I thought it was more adorable than the others. Less creepier.

Even though it looks like it needs a little fix.

She’s just like you. She’s different from everyone else.

Happy Birthday.

Joe

You picked up the doll and stared at it for a moment. Come to think of it, he was right. It was the less creepier doll from the rest of the dolls you both saw that night. You smiled to yourself as you set the doll back in the box. As you freshen up that night and changed into more comfier clothes, you slid yourself under the thick comforters and stared at the ceiling. It was past midnight, and your mind had been nothing but loud ever since Joe left your hotel room.

“Just save the cake. You might need it later.” Sara’s voice echoed through your mind and suddenly, you wondered if she knew something about Joe stopping by your room tonight.

“Well, now you have extra cake to eat tonight.” Suddenly, Wes’ voice also echoed through your mind and something clicked.

Did they know something? Did they know he was coming? You saw them whispered to each other earlier in the kitchen, and you thought maybe it was just them having their little moments. Now, you started to think maybe it wasn’t. Oh, god. You were overthinking all of this again.

Joe’s voice suddenly echoed through your mind.

“I don’t hate you. Never have. Never did.”

So, Joe didn’t hate you. At least now that was all cleared up. As your eyes fluttered close, you thought to yourself that you were wrong earlier.

Now, your birthday was perfect.

*******

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