#and most of us were young girls who have been assaulted before

[thestarseersystem]

It's frustrating to run into constant blogs that are anti-kink bc they don't know how it's like that you can't help being hypersexuality since you were bodily 5 years old.

[uncle-fruity]

There's also an element of self-policing. If you're afraid that you're going to get assaulted every time you go out alone, the more likely you are to isolate yourself inside. The more likely you are to believe that you need an escort when you go out. It's harder to feel confident and self-reliant if you're afraid of strangers. It's harder to do things for yourself when you feel weak. And so a lot of women feel like they don't have autonomy to go out at night or go out alone & live in fear that something will happen to them. They don't live full & happy lives because someone/society has convinced them that not only are they a perpetual target, but also that they would not be able to fight for themselves if they needed to. And, in my opinion, this mindset opens those women up to a very real kind of manipulative, controlling domestic abuse which is far more common than random attackers on the street. So yeah... idk, women. I think it's good to take defense classes or do anything at all that you need to do to feel more confident to move about freely in the world. You don't have to accept the narrative that men are by default more powerful than you, that you have no control in an assault situation, or that you must keep yourself quiet and out of the way to be less of a target. You can be powerful and capable and that isn't to say you shouldn't stay aware of your surroundings or write off *any* potential threat as harmless, but rather to say that it is not as common as you are being led to believe and you have more options than to shrink back and let the fear take you.

Idk like I think there's a really misogynist way that women are expected to consider being murdered and assaulted as like 1000x worse than anything else that could happen and do everything possible to avoid it and like it's unarguably bad! But constantly whenever I mention going hiking or whatever people are like 'omg you're going camping alone as a woman??? what if you get murdered?????' Actually by far the way I am most likely to die doing that is... some sleep deprived or drunk driver crashing into me on the way there! But no one tells you to avoid driving, meanwhile there's so much pressure on women to like, always stay in other crowded super safe areas or at home to Protect Their Virtue and it's like lol I would actually rather live an interesting life doing things that I enjoy

[bbydoll18xx]

She’s Such a Good Girl (Part 2)

Paige continues her assault on your innocence, leading you to spiral.

Paige Bueckers x reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Themes: angst in the beginning, Paige being hot and flirty the rest of it woohoo, mentions of being horny oops

Part 1 - You move in across the hall from Paige Bueckers. It doesn’t take long before she tries to shatter your innocent persona. And you just let her.

Masterlist

A/N: I’m so, so grateful for all the love on the first part of this little mini series. Let me know if you are up for a third part:)) I have soo many ideas it's ridiculous

~

You wake up feeling anything but well rested. Your sleep was muddled with dreams of Paige, her smile infiltrating your unconsciousness until you woke up with an uncomfortable stickiness in between your thighs. You groan into your pillow, the general overwhelmingness of last night draining you even more.

Grabbing your phone from your bedside table, you see a text from Paige, and the butterflies erupt inside of you once more. 

‘We’re all planning on going out tonight. You’re coming with us.’

Her bluntness momentarily stuns you, but you were grateful to be included. It seemed she was hell bent on getting you out of your shell, for whatever reason, and you were simply just going to concede. You needed this.

You respond, your heart beating out of your chest, and the anxiety begins to set in. 

It was getting harder and harder to deny the gay feelings you had. And although it had been years since your “oh shit, I’m gay,” moment had dawned on you, this was reaching new heights of awareness. But you had refused to truly accept it thus far.

You had a complicated relationship with your sexuality. Most of the time you had shied away from even acknowledging it; it was too painful. In high school, you were surrounded by other gay people, and it felt like you almost belonged, slowly coming to terms with your sapphism. But as you moved away to college, you were the only one in your friend group who was even a little remotely queer, and you felt isolated by your glaring differences. 

Your religious upbringing did not help the situation either. You quickly learned how to hide your emotions. Slurs were regularly thrown around the dinner table, the nasty words cutting into your being, and your fists would be tightening in your lap, fighting to keep a neutral expression on your face.

You could not give yourself away.

As soon as you could, you’d seek solace in your room, hot, shameful tears sliding down your cheeks, forcing yourself to quiet the sobs erupting through your chest. The words of contempt echoed through your mind, until eventually you had nearly come to believe them yourself. 

Each evening you clasped your hands together desperately in prayer, vehemently struggling with everything you had been raised to know and everything you wanted and needed to feel. It was an eternal battle that raged on inside, slowly withering you into a ghost, haunted by the darkness that had flourished in the absence of support and acceptance.

You wondered what the people who had claimed to love and know you the most, would do if they found out about your dirty, little secret. The anxieties about being outed manifested in cruel dreams, awakening you suddenly, a thin layer of sweat glistening on your body as your chest rose and fell in quick staccato breaths. 

That was something you still wondered today. And you would certainly wonder for the rest of your life. You had vowed that you would never come out to your family unless you truly fell in love with a girl. So you had kept everyone at arm's length to protect yourself. But Paige Bueckers was slowly breaking your walls down, brick by brick. 

A wave of nausea washes over you as you realize that getting closer to Paige meant toying the line of the false heteronormative persona you’ve been carefully crafting since you were a young teenager. The temptation of feeling normal in a group of girls quickly shuts down any immediate worries. That was a problem for another time. 

You hear your roommates in the living room, bustling around without having any idea of your internal battle. With a sigh, you drag yourself out of bed to go out to meet them, already preparing for the deafening noises that would inevitably come with telling them of last night's events. 

You open your door, nearly shuffling your feet against the carpet as you walk out to greet Taylor and Sarah. Their heads turn from the focus on the television, faces set in smiles as they see you emerge from your room.

“Guess what I did last night?” You prompt them, and their faces morph into ones of natural curiosity. 

“Did you read your class syllabuses to get a head start?” Sarah asks sarcastically, and you stick your tongue out at her in false derision. 

“No,” you scoff, although her guess was not completely off base. “I went over and hung out with Paige and the rest of the team.”

Taylor and Sarah were uncharacteristically quiet for a moment. They glanced at each other, momentarily stunned before erupting in hollers, jumping to their feet in excitement. 

“How the fuck did that happen?” Taylor all but yells, still jumping up and down. It was a good thing you did not have downstairs neighbors.

“Well they were being so loud, and I wanted to go to bed, so I knocked on the door to politely ask them to shut up,” you explain, trying to hide the giddiness you felt as you recalled the events of last night.

“And Paige answered and invited me in. And now I’m going out with her and the team tonight,” you finish, carefully watching the reactions of your two best friends. 

Their faces were morphed into ones of sheer delight and astonishment.

“My innocent, little angel is growing up,” Taylor exclaims, pretending to wipe a tear from her eye, and you swat at her, giggling at the sheer hilarity of the situation.

“What am I supposed to wear to a bar?” You ask, and the girls shriek in laughter, clapping their hands and promising to help you get dressed later.

You feel better about everything, the support from your roommates briefly quelling the fears and uncertainties that had plagued your mind for years. And your excitement was a testimony to the effect a certain blonde had on you.

~

“You’ve got great tits. Might as well show them off,” Sarah says exasperatedly, shoving one of her low cut tops at you.

Your face heats up, and you hold up the tiny tank top. “Don’t you think it’s a little, I don’t know, slutty?” Your voice trails to a whisper as you think about purposely showing off your body. 

“That’s the point, girl! It’s finally your time to show everyone what you’re fucking made of. Go be a sexy, bad bitch!” Taylor urges, slapping you on the butt as she does.

You take a deep breath, nodding in agreement, finally pushing yourself further away from the perfect, good girl act that had been placed upon you since you were a child. 

You don the skimpy black tank, admiring the way it shows off your slim waist, and you pair it with tight jeans that accentuate the curve of your ass perfectly. You fluff your hair and add a layer of lip gloss, before taking one last long glance in the mirror.

You could do this.

With a few encouraging words from your roommates and a few slaps to your ass, you nervously make your way across the hall to knock once more on Paige’s door. The door is thrown open, loud cheers erupting as you appear, and KK launches herself at you excitedly, throwing her arms around you and pulling you into her. 

Giggling, you hug her back, your nerves melting away at her friendly disposition. She pulls away, eyeing you up and down with an approving nod. “Someone cooked here,” she smirks, and your face blooms an embarrassing shade of deep red.

“My roommates kind of helped me get dressed,” you admit, hands tugging down your impossibly small shirt. 

“Girl, you look fineee,” she says, rubbing her hands together, causing several of the other girls to cackle at her not so subtle attempt to rizz you up.

“Who looks fine?” you hear a familiar voice, and your head whips in the direction of the question. You see Paige sauntering towards you, and your heart immediately begins to pound as your eyes rake over her tall figure. 

Her hair was down in blonde waves, making you want to reach out and run your hand through the soft-looking locks. Her toned stomach was exposed from her crop top, her abs flashing in a way that had your stomach rolling with an unfamiliar feeling. You couldn’t necessarily put your finger on it, but it shot down in an intense display of unbridled want. And she had the smuggest look on her face, accentuating the plumpness of her bottom lip. Your tongue subconsciously darts out to lick a slow line against your own lip as you watch her approach you.

KK points at you, waggling her eyebrows. “The pretty princess over here.” 

You blush again. Shit, you really had to get that under control. 

Paige hums, looking you up and down once more. “She’s not wrong,” she mutters huskily in your ear as she pulls you in for a hug. Your knees weaken at her touch, and you aren't sure if you’d be able to survive the night. It had just begun, and she had you completely and irrevocably fucked. 

30 minutes later, you, Paige, and the other members of UCONN’s women’s basketball team were shuffling into several ubers to head to a nearby bar. Unsure of which car to get into, you awkwardly stand off to the side, the anxiety pumping through your veins once more, but you soon feel a muscular arm wrap around your waist.

Looking up, you are met with Paige’s blue eyes and that smug smirk, and with a wink, she guides you to the nearest car, helping you into the backseat. As you sit, you adjust your top, overly aware of how much of your chest was actually out. Paige sits next to you, settling in with a low grunt, and she immediately places a hand on your thigh. Your eyes focus on the veins and the length of her fingers, and that feeling in your belly ignites again. 

As you arrive at the bar, Paige helps you out of the car with a chivalrous hand. And it does not leave yours as you enter the doors. She laces her fingers through yours, and you don’t miss the way it feels so damn right. She guides you through the crowds of people, and your breath hitches, feeling slightly overwhelmed from the volume and the hoards of drunk people pushing into your frame. 

Paige notices immediately, and she pulls you closer, tucking you into her side protectively. You preen at the attention, the feeling so foreign but addictive. You needed more, and the idea of it ripped away from you sent an unsettling spike of dread shooting through you maliciously. 

Subtly, you shake your head in a futile attempt to clear the thoughts out of your head. Overthinking was sure to be your downfall. Nothing a little alcohol couldn’t fix, though.

Aside from the occasional glass of wine, you had never really drank. And you certainly had never done shots. But when Nika and Aubrey had thrusted a tray of them towards where you and Paige were sitting, you were quick to grab one, eager to dull the bitter voices in your head. 

You bring it to your face, taking a hesitant sniff that causes your nose to wrinkle, eliciting a fond chuckle from the blonde. “Do I just sip it or…?” You trail off shyly, suddenly very aware of how ridiculous you sounded. What kind of college girl didn’t know how to take a shot?

Paige bites her lip. “Lemme help you, baby,” she mutters in your ear, and she takes the shot out of your hand. “Breathe all of the air out and then swallow it all at once before you take another breath, okay?” 

You nod, letting the air leave your mouth, lips pouting. Without her gaze leaving your mouth, Paige holds up the shot glass, pouring the liquid down your throat in a swift motion. 

You swallow quickly, feeling the burn slide down your throat and settle into a warm pool in your belly. You lick your lips, trying to catch a tiny drop that had slid past your mouth and trailed down your chin towards your neck. 

Before you can chase the trickle, Paige leans in, swiping it with her thumb, placing it into her mouth and sucking, her cheeks hollowing in the process. 

Your face morphs into a look of shock, and she gives you a shit-eating grin. The effect she had on you was something out of a book you spent many lonely nights immersing yourself in. And now that you were living in the crystal clear reality, you regretted not getting out of your shell a little sooner. 

“Can I do another?” You ask, already looking at the tray where a few shots still remained. 

Paige laughs. “Maybe wait a few, princess. The alcohol will kick in soon,” she promises. “You can share mine,” she gestures to her drink, and you don’t miss the way the pet name rolls off her tongue effortlessly. 

Paige was not lying when she had told you that the effects would soon hit you. Before you could even start to feel uncomfortable, a delicious easiness fell over you, loosening you up in a way you had never experienced before. You reach for Paige’s straw once more, pretending that her mouth was not just on it, and you relish in the sweet liquid adding to your tipsiness.

Paige had stayed close all night, similarly to the night before, and you were grateful for her constant presence anchoring you. The other girls took turns dancing with you, showering you with compliments and making future plans. Even through the haze of the alcohol, your heart felt as if it could burst; they were all so nice, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you actually belonged. 

The night flies by, and as it does, you and Paige get more and more touchy. Her hands took turns between trailing down your back and resting heavily on your hips. She played with a lock of your hair, twisting it in her fingers as you swayed to the music, and she was constantly gazing at you through heavy lids, pupils blown from the darkness of the bar and pure want.

Emboldened by the drinks that had graced your lips, you don’t shy away, and before you know it, you’re leaning in closer, intoxicated by more than just the liquor. The bustling crowds and excessive noise surrounding you melts away as Paige grips your waist, pulling you closer into her. 

Your heart pounds at her proximity. She reaches up, cradling your jaw and stroking the soft skin of your neck with her thumb. You wonder if she can feel the thumping of your carotid, but you’re too enthralled in her presence to even care. Her eyes flit between your own and your slightly parted lips. Everything felt so fucking delicate, as if one small move would break everything. 

“Been thinkin’ about doin’ this all night,” she whispers, and pulls you into a kiss.

All the air is sucked out of you as her lips touch yours. And while you are momentarily stunned, it does not take long before yours are moving against her in a delicious exchange of passion. All worries of not being a good kisser leave your mind as Paige moans against your mouth, the sound shooting straight down your belly and to your pussy. Her tongue moves against you, and the feel of it does not help the slick now accumulating in your panties. 

The kiss eventually ends, much to your displeasure, and as you pull away, a giggle erupts from your mouth at the insanity of it all.

You had just kissed Paige Bueckers.

“OOH, P is fucking whipped!” KK shouts over the music, enthusiastically high-fiving Ice and Nika. 

Fuck, you were caught. 

But little did KK know, is that you were pretty fucking whipped, too. With one smooth move, Paige had broken down all your walls, and you were surrounded by the bricks of your carefully crafted innocence shattered around you at your feet. And maybe you could blame it on the alcohol, but you were pretty sure that if Paige made you anything less of a good girl, you were certainly okay with that. 

~

Part 3 - You get drunk off Paige, and confessions come out.

Part 4 - Paige makes you feel so good.

Part 5 - Paige shows you her strap.

The beginning hits a little too close to home I’m so sorry I blacked out while writing it. It’s been almost 9 years since I realized I had feelings for girls, and I still struggle every day with accepting myself. To all the readers who are going through the same thing, I love you, and here’s to hoping things get better. If you ever want to reach out, my inbox is always open.

xoxo katy

[tomriddlehyperfixataion]

Salted caramel, metal, strawberries, vanilla, and ink. Tom Riddle x reader-oneshot

was posted first on ao3, last year, now finally posting it on here for yall to enjoy :D

=

Salted caramel, metal, strawberries, vanilla, and ink.

That was what Tom Riddle smelled when Professor Slughorn was introducing the class to the most powerful love potion in the world-Amortentia. Tom, when Slughorn had asked if anyone knew what the potion was, obliged and answered, stepping closer to examine the potion.

He hadn't expected to smell anything when he got a whiff of it. the potion was supposed to smell of what, or who, that person was in love with. Tom had maybe thought of parchment, books, iron(snake skin),  maybe even another potion-but instead he got salted caramel, metal, strawberries, vanilla, and ink.

A curious combination, one that had him furrowing his brows in confusion and slight wonder. He had a sweetooth-that wasn’t well known, but he did. But salted caramel wasn’t one of the sweets he liked-he wasn’t one for strawberries-too sour more often than not, vanilla? Yeah, he usually charmed some into his cologne, but ink?

He liked ink, but he was sure he didn’t love it, it was just a tool to write with-besides, it gave him a headache more often than not-especially fresh ink.

Tom shook himself free of these thoughts, clearing his throat as he stepped back from the pot-Slughorn watching him curiously. “and-salted caramel,” Tom finished explaining what he smelled, pushing down the flush that wanted to reach his ears as some of the girls in the class-some if not all of them having a crush on him-whispered amongst each other-wondering if Tom loved Salted Caramel, or liked someone that smelled like it.

He was sure it wasn’t a person; he had never had a crush his entire life-he was 16 now-why would he just-suddenly have one now? Girls had never interested him, and he was very sure he wasn’t into men. So, he was sure he just liked certain things he didn’t realize he had.

He didn’t like anyone, not in that way anyway, he didn’t have a crush, he wasn’t in love with anyone-he wasn’t attracted to anyone.

He was sure of it. he had gone 16 years without being attracted to anyone, there was no reason he had started liking someone without realizing it.

It just made no sense.

-

Tom furrowed his brow at the scent of metal brushing across him-looking to his side to see you. You always smelled like metal after coming back from the black lake-training with swords. You had always been skilled in swordsmanship, even when you were young. How would Tom know that? You had grown up together, at the orphanage, which allowed you certain privileges that others didn’t.

Such as sitting with Tom while you were sweating and reeking of metal. “Did you even take a shower before assaulting me with your sweat?” Tom muttered, flipping the page of his potions book before scribbling something down for his notes-rolling his eyes as you just snorted through your nose, grabbing his cup of pumpkin juice and stealing the rest of it, something Tom had long stopped trying to stop you from doing.

“And miss out on that face you make every time I don’t? Not a chance~” you teased, leaning into Tom, laughing as he huffed and shuffled away from you-pushing your face away from him-his hand cool against your warm face. “Also-I knew you had snacks, so-“ You reached out-snatching the chocolate bon-bon from the golden plate Tom had and popping it in your mouth, humming as you bit into the chocolate and the filling melted into your mouth. “mmm caramel~ you know me so well.” Tom just hummed, not really listening-taking another bon-bon and biting into it. Irish cream.

-

“Oh hell, I just bought it, how could I already be out of it?” Tom glanced to the stairs that led towards the girl’s dormitories, seeing you trot down, speaking aloud as you rummaged through your bag. “What are you looking for?” Tom asked as he sat up, using his finger as a bookmark as he closed the book he had been reading, his other arm going over the back of the couch-where he had been waiting for you to finish getting ready for the day.

“My perfume, the vanilla one-either I lost it or I already ran out, because I cannot find it.” you grumbled, closing your bag with a huff and walking over to Tom, dramatically bending over the back of the couch and huffing again. “It was my favorite too, and I can only find it in Hogsmeade.”

Tom hummed, patting your head with awkward sympathy, standing when he remembered his cologne also had vanilla charmed into it. you didn’t move as he went back into the dorms-grieving for your missing vanilla perfume. You perked up only when Tom tapped you on the shoulder, offering his cologne. “Is that your…?” you sat up, taking the small square bottle, staring at it for a moment, before grinning. “you know, you try to make me think otherwise-but you really are such a sweetheart Tommy,” Tom-pushing down the urge to smack you, just huffed-his cheeks a light pink as he shoved your shoulder gently.

“Oh just use it, the next Hogsmeade trip is this weekend-we can look for your stupid perfume then.” You laughed but did as told, spraying it as needed and handing the bottle back to Tom-who just put it in your bag. “I don’t want to go back upstairs, now let’s go, or we’ll miss breakfast,” Tom grumbled, ignoring you while you laughed, but letting you take his arm as you walked to the great hall for breakfast.

-

Tom glanced to the side, seeing you-like usual-next to him, scribbling away on your parchment, doing everything but taking notes. You were drawing-like always, your fingers stained with ink as you sketched. Tom glanced back up, seeing Professor Dumbledore with his back turned and Tom looked back at you-tapping your hand with his fingers, giving you a stern look.

“You need to pay attention,” Tom whispered, rolling his eyes as you just grinned. “Why should I? you always give me your notes anyway, not like I ever miss anything either way.” You whispered back, turning your eyes back to your parchment, redipping your pen-the smell of fresh ink permeating the space between you and Tom.

“At least use less ink, I’m getting a headache,” Tom sighed, knowing it was no use-because yes-he would give you his notes, and you were way ahead of the class in transfiguration, one of Dumbledore’s star students in fact, you hadn't received less than an O in his class since you started.

You obliged and cleaned your pen tip off, letting your previous work dry a bit before resuming your sketch, glancing at Tom once or twice as you doodled out his profile-showing it off to him as you left class, laughing as his ears turned pink and he shoved you away-once again letting you take his arm as you both went off to study during your free period.

-

Tom bounced his leg as he sat at a table within the three broomsticks, reading a book as he waited for you to arrive-a warm plate of food set in the middle of the table-his jacket and scarf set on his chair. “Sorry, I’m late!” you huffed as you slid into the chair in front of him, grinning as Tom glanced up at you, nodding as you took your jacket and scarf off-setting them on the back of your chair. You turned around again, grinning at Tom-your eyes sparkling as you spotted what was on the table.

“Tom, I love you,” Tom froze, his eyes going wide as he stared down at his book-why had those words shaken him so much? You had said it before? He looked up, sighing as he saw you digging into the plate of strawberries he ordered for you-they were your favorite after all. The juice dripped down your chin-Tom’s gaze following it, swallowing harshly as you wiped it off and looked at him-your grin wide. “yeah yeah, you’re welcome, just don’t use my hand as a napkin again,” Tom muttered, going back to his book, ignoring the way his heart continued to flutter at the words that came from you only moments before.

“That was one time Tommy!”

“Once is still too many times, (y/n).”

-

He was back in potions class, working on making a brew of the draught of living death-a small competition Slughorn was holding, if someone made a successful brew-they would get a small vile of liquid luck. Tom jolted as he felt a hand dig into his pocket and he snapped his head to the side-sighing as you withdrew your hand, holding two wrapped chocolates. “Seriously?” Tom muttered, going back to his potion, pouring in the juice of 13 sopophorus beans that he needed-stirring seven times, and then once the other way-tapping the stick on the edge of his cauldron before turning to you-watching as you opened the chocolate and took a bite-the caramel inside following the separated pieces and breaking.

“Not my fault you always carry these with you, especially the salted caramel ones-you know they’re my favorite,” you teased, popping the other half in your mouth and going back to your potion, humming to yourself as you worked. Tom rolled his eyes, shaking his head(fondly).he would never admit he carried around those certain chocolates because they were your favorite.

“Of course I know,” Tom muttered, letting his potion simmer until it turned pink-turning the burner off. Perfect. “you practically reek of salted…caramel-“ Tom trailed off, suddenly hit by realization.

Salted caramel, strawberries, Ink, vanilla, metal.

Oh….

Oh

Oh shit.

Tom was suddenly all too aware of you, and your scents. Fresh ink on your skin, strawberries on your lips, salted caramel on your breath, metal on your hands, vanilla on your neck. He could smell it all when you were close-which was nearly all the time. Holding his arm, sitting next to him, hugging him, doing anything near him.

He suddenly realized you, the way your hair fell in front of your eyes, how you let Tom brush it behind your ear, grinning at him every time. The way you fiddled with your wand-flipping it between your fingers. The way your shoulders brushed against him whenever you could-standing so close others couldn’t tell where one began and one ended.

Laughter had always annoyed him-and yet he never minded yours, he preferred silence over constant chatter-and yet he could listen to you for hours(though he did zone out sometimes).

This entire time-had he been-in love with you? And had just-never noticed? Is that why he thought he never had a crush-because the entire time-he had liked you.

Tom could hardly comprehend it, he knew he liked you-but he had thought just as a friend, his best friend no less. But-did best friends look at each other like that? Did best friends look at the other's lips, wanting to-do something? Did best friends want the other close at all times? Did best friends yearn for each other? Like he did for you?

When you weren’t around-he missed you, he never dared let it show, and when you teased him about it-he never let it be revealed, unless you bugged him long enough to annoy it out of him.

Did best friends get butterflies when the other said they loved them? Did best friends fall asleep in the common room-curled up together, with the others face in their neck?

Did best friends vow to stay together forever?

Did best friends think about each other all the time? Unable to get rid of the other from their mind, their voice always there, their phantom hands always tingling against his skin.

It took another week for Tom to come to terms with it all, and what had set it in stone-had been another whiff of Amortentia.

Salted caramel, metal, strawberries, vanilla, Ink.

All like you, and he knew-because you were standing right next to him, smelling the exact same as the potion.

He was in love with you.

And he wasn’t all that panicked about it anymore, in fact-he didn’t really mind it, because-you had been by his side since he could remember-who else was worthy of his love, then none other than his best friend?

His breath stopped as Slughorn asked you to say what you smelled-and you stepped forward, towards the love potion-your hand slipping from his arm, a wrapped salted caramel in your other hand. “Ink, books,” your brows furrowed-deciding how to describe something “Cologne; sharp and cold-with a hint of vanilla?” it almost sounded like a question, and Tom swallowed, his eyes on your neck-where your perfume wafted back towards him-along with the other scents from the potion.

Salted caramel, metal, strawberries, vanilla, ink.

“and, um, iron, pumpkin juice, and-wormwood.” You stepped back with that, once again next to Tom; who glanced down at you, watching as you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth-refusing to look at him. he brushed his fingers against your hand-wanting you to look at him, and you did, your breath catching when you caught his eyes.

“You okay?” he asked quietly, not wanting to be caught talking while Professor Slughorn lectured the rest of the class. You nodded, swallowing, your eyes dashing down for a moment before looking back into his eyes. “Never better,” you muttered, turning back to face Slughorn, opening the chocolate and taking a bite-distracting yourself.

Tom just hummed, handing you another chocolate as you finished the first-smirking as you took it and opened it quickly, still avoiding his gaze.

Ink, books, cologne with a hint of vanilla, iron, pumpkin juice, and wormwood.

Tom held back a smile, now-one could call him ignorant and arrogant for assuming-but.

He also knew you, and you knew him.

Salted caramel, metal, strawberries, vanilla, ink.

Ink, books, cologne with a hint of vanilla, iron, pumpkin juice, wormwood.

You liked each other, and Tom was sure you wouldn’t mind going to Hogsmeade with him, though this time-as his date.

-end-

[pedrospatch]

to hell and back l one

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist l main masterlist l next chapter

summary: After escaping a group of brutal slavers, you are left with permanent physical and emotional scars. Unwilling to put your trust in another human being ever again, you spend a year fighting for survival alone in the post outbreak world. But when you choose to save the life of a man named Joel Miller, the wall that you’ve built to protect yourself slowly begins to crumble.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI. canon violence, canon language, brief mentions of slavers, brutality, torture, assault, guns, reader is an archer, mentions of hunting, animal death, injured/unconscious Joel, very minor mentions of blood, age gap (reader is 30, Joel is 56) very brief mention of scars, reader does not/cannot speak at times, a lot of internal dialogue from reader, at one point reader does try to speak to Joel but she is unable. *please be advised that no specific diagnosis is used or will be mentioned, i’m writing the series with the idea that reader herself cannot fully comprehend her inability to speak at times. basically the gist of it is we have a very traumatized person who does not realize just how traumatized she is.

word count: 8.2k (good lord I am so sorry)

a/n: not a whole lot to say except for that this is...different. at least i think it is, i could be wrong lmao. this is by far one of the most challenging things i have ever decided to write, but hopefully it turned out okay

California l Fall, 2023

You’d been on the run since dawn.

It was several hours later now and nightfall was approaching—and it was approaching a hell of a lot fucking faster than you could have even anticipated. The darkness was quickly closing in, falling around you like a velvet black curtain. However, stumbling around blindly in the dark was currently the very least of your worries. 

Your feet were raw, both completely blistered and bleeding through your socks inside of your worn out, muddied white canvas sneakers. Your sore, aching legs screamed out for mercy and your knees trembled violently, threatening to buckle out from underneath the weight of your body at any given moment. 

In the week and a half leading up to your escape from captivity, you’d been deprived of both food and water—it had been your punishment for closing your eyes and turning your head away after you’d been instructed by the slavers to watch their brutal assault of the young teenaged girl that you had been sharing a cage with. She’d been unable to keep up with her work duties, and they had decided to make an example out of her.

Despite still having been forced to witness the horrendous, unspeakable things they’d done to that poor girl, your initial resistance resulted in you being beaten and then starved for several days. Occasionally, one of the late night guards would try and bribe you, offering a small piece of jerky or a couple of stale crackers in exchange for a blowjob. At first, you told him you’d rather cut your own tongue out with a rusty blade than suck his dick, but when he proposed the disgusting, vile trade again just a couple of nights later, you’d accepted it—because him pulling you out of that fucking cage after hours and removing the tight shackles from your wrists when no one else was around would give you the chance to finally make a run for it.

You swung yourself around the nearest redwood tree, slumping back against its thick, wide trunk. You covered your mouth with your two hands in an attempt to silence the sound of your heavy panting. 

Besides being in pain, malnourished and severely dehydrated, the exhaustion was starting to set in too. The adrenaline pumping through your veins had brought you this far, but exactly how much farther could it take you? How much longer could it possibly keep you going before your tired body decided to give up and give out?

Somewhere behind you, you could hear the men calling out cheerfully.

One sang out, “Come out, come out, wherever you are!”

“Come out and plaaaaay,” a second taunted.

The third shouted, “We’re gonna get you!”

Their giddiness made you want to vomit. If your stomach hadn’t been empty, you would have.

Those sick, twisted fucks weren’t letting up. 

They’d been on your heels for hours.

The large group of slavers in California were over two hundred strong and had dozens of prisoners chained up in their human cages—they had more than enough people to force into labor. There was no need for them to waste their time and efforts going after you, but after spending the last eight months witnessing firsthand how these sadistic bastards operated, it occurred to you that their desire to recapture you wasn’t out of a need for labor. It was for their entertainment. 

They were hunting you down for sport.

This was their idea of fun.

“Fuck,” you whispered underneath your breath, your hands falling down to your sides.

Something had to give.

Your legs, your body, your will to live.

Perhaps all of the above.

You couldn’t keep on running for much longer.

And even if you could, where the hell were you supposed to go? How were you supposed to get there?

You had no food, no water, and no weapon.

Just the torn, tattered clothes on your back.

You were defenseless against whatever else was out there and you couldn’t see yourself surviving longer than a couple of days at most.

There was a part of you that wanted to give up and surrender. If you could be absolutely certain that they would shoot you dead on the spot, you would actually consider it and step out from behind the tree—hell, you would happily let them put a bullet between your eyes and put you out of your misery once and for all. But they wouldn’t be so generous. You knew they would have their way with you here in the middle of this forest and only after they were done would they take you back to their settlement where they’d put you right back in shackles so the real torture could begin. Just like that teenaged girl, the slavers would make an example out of you so that nobody else in their right mind would even think about running away. 

They would be sure to make your death as slow and as agonizing as possible.  

No. If you were going to die, then you were going to die. But fucking not like that.

Hearing them draw closer towards where you’d been hiding, you pushed yourself away from the redwood and willed yourself to keep on going.

Wyoming l Fall 2024

Your eyes softly flutter open.

Bright, early morning sunlight filters in through the ripped, white lace curtains that hang over the small, square shaped window right above your head. 

Blinking the sleep away, you prop yourself up slightly on your elbows and take a glance around at your surroundings. The old, abandoned cabin that you’d stumbled across just a couple of days ago is tiny, cramped, and crumbling. It also reeks—it smells damp, musty, and earthy, like rotting wood. But beggars can’t be choosers and you are certainly in no position to be a chooser right now. It’s not what you consider to be ideal, but it’s four walls and a roof, which is more than anyone can ask for. It’s sparsely furnished with a table and two chairs, an old wood burning stove you had been too afraid to light because you didn’t want to risk setting the place on fire, and there’s even a small, twin sized bed for you to sleep on. Well, perhaps calling it a bed was a tad bit too generous. It’s really just a mattress sitting on four large concrete blocks. It’s rough, dirty, and torn with rusted springs and bits of fluff sticking out from every corner. Still, it sure as fuck beat the hell out of sleeping outside in the dirt and using a rock as a pillow.

Besides the luxury of having something close to a proper roof to sleep under, there’s also a lake just two and a half miles north of the cabin where you had been able to fill your canteen with fresh water. Not to mention, you’d also been able to bathe and wash your clothes for the first time in a couple of weeks. You had been on your own for about a year now, and this was the luckiest you’ve gotten in terms of finding a decent place to stay.

Whether or not it’s safe, it was still too early to tell. 

Sure, you were out somewhere in the middle of bumfuck nowhere and hadn’t seen a single soul, living or dead, in a couple of months now. But that still didn’t mean that running into the infected or other people wasn’t a possibility. Letting your guard down was risky. Too risky. 

You swing your legs over the side of the mattress and sit up, slipping on your pair of warm, wool socks before tugging on your boots—you’d found them over the summer and even though they had been about one size too small for you, you’d managed to break them in since then and the supple brown leather now molds almost perfectly to your feet. You stand up and lift your arms up above your head while simultaneously twisting your stiff, sore back in a painful, but much needed stretch. You’re only just a couple of months shy of turning thirty years old, but lately, your bones snap, crackle and pop with each and every movement, making you feel twice your actual age. 

The thought of it makes you snort in amusement. You should be so lucky to stay alive long enough to see the age of sixty. Hell, you’re still unable to fathom how you’d even made it this close to seeing thirty.

Dropping your arms back down to your sides, you make your way over to your khaki colored pack and pull out your aluminum canteen from one of the side pockets. You twist off the cap and gulp back a long, cool drink of water, hoping to get rid of the dryness in your mouth and the cracks in your chapped lips. As soon as the liquid makes it all the way down to the pit of your stomach, the hollow, muscular organ grumbles loudly, demanding food. You’d had some decent luck while out hunting the previous morning, capturing two wild rabbits—you had eagerly skinned, cleaned and cooked them both, devouring one right after the other so fast that it had nearly made you sick. It had been a pretty decent meal, but not nearly enough to completely satisfy your ravenous hunger. Prior to finding the cabin and settling in, you had been living off of a couple handfuls of nuts and berries for three days while on the move. You were still fucking starving and all you could do was pray that you’d find more rabbits today. 

Maybe you’d get even luckier and spot a pheasant. It was their season, after all. 

You drink some more water and set your canteen aside. You’d planned to return to the lake later in the afternoon to refill it as well as to have another bath. You pull on your faded, black denim jacket over your hoodie and pick up the wooden bow and brown leather quiver of arrows sitting beside your pack. You’d found the weapon in some hunting shop back in Utah that had already been picked clean to the bone over the last couple of decades. However, no one had even bothered with taking the bow. It hadn’t really surprised you, though. In the post outbreak world, a bow and arrow would do absolutely nothing to protect against the infected runners and stalkers—and it would do much less to protect against clickers unless your aim was flawless.

Still, a bow was useful in its own right. 

It was perfect for hunting game. It was silent, keeping you and your location concealed from potential passersby at all times. Most importantly, you could reuse your arrows so long as you were careful and didn’t break them while removing them from your kills—and in the event that you did happen to snap an arrow, all you had to do was salvage what you could from the damaged projectile and make a new one. Simple as that. 

Your father had taught you how before he’d died.

“Why bother with a bow? What about a gun?” you had asked him. 

“Might not always be able to get your hands on a gun,” he’d replied as he sharpened an edge of the small, thumb sized rock in his hand. “Or bullets. It doesn’t hurt to have alternatives in the event that you can’t get your hands on either of those things, kiddo.” Despite being in your mid twenties at the time, he’d still always call you kiddo. “Always have a backup weapon, alright?”

He’d been wise to give you that advice.

You did have a firearm, a colt pistol that you hardly have ammunition for. There were ten rounds left in the clip and with no luck in finding any more in the last couple of months, you’d decided to preserve them, saving what little bullets you had left for a real emergency. You kept the gun tucked into the waistband of your jeans at all times, along with the sharp switchblade that you used to gut and skin game. As far as weapons go, you sure as hell could’ve been a lot worse off. But if you happened to stumble upon more ammunition for your gun, you certainly wouldn’t complain about it. 

Slinging your bow and the quiver of arrows over your shoulder, you grab the dark gray foraging bag that you used to collect and carry your kills in and leave the cabin, feeling somewhat confident enough to leave the remainder of your belongings behind instead of hauling them all along with you like you had the morning before. It wasn’t that you feared someone would come along and steal them. There wasn’t really anything for anyone to steal, anyway. Rather, you’d gotten so damn used to the instability and the constant moving around—you never stayed in one place for too long and were always prepared to run. But today, you decide to leave your things in the cabin, feeling certain that you would return in just a couple of hours. 

You step out onto the creaking, three step porch that’s so old it buckles slightly under your weight and a gentle breeze nips at your cheeks and nose. It’s the middle of autumn in Wyoming and the air outside is fresh, cool and crisp. Winter was looming right around the corner like a dark shadow, and although you’d somehow managed to make it through the previous year’s brutal snow season, that didn’t do much to stop you from being nervous about the one that was to come. If all went according to your plan, you’d be holing yourself up in that shoddy little cabin until the worst of winter was over and then you would move along.

To where?

You didn’t have the slightest fucking clue. 

You make a short trek about two miles south, going in the opposite direction of the lake and finding yourself closer to the thick forest trees that surrounded the base of the mountain range out in the distance instead. There’s a dried, grassy clearing just feet from the entrance of the forest—finding a single, decently sized boulder in the middle of the wide, open space, you decide that behind it is the perfect spot for you to set up and hope for the best. Carefully setting your things down on the ground, you pull out a pair of old, cracked binoculars from your bag. You lean your body over the smooth, round top of the rock and lift them up to your face, peeking through the lenses. You hope to spot something right away because it sure would be fucking nice to eat something sooner rather than later. Otherwise you might just start gnawing at your own arm. 

Diligently, you scan your surroundings for any and all signs of wildlife. 

That’s when you see it, standing near the edge of the woods.

You gasp softly as your sights fall upon the deer. 

Pulling your face away from your binoculars, you blink furiously before taking another look just to be sure that your eyes hadn’t been playing tricks on you. It’s not a hallucination. It’s a white tailed deer, a female, and from the look of her, she has to be at least about a hundred pounds. At least.

You try to not get too far ahead of yourself, but it’s far too late. The thought of finding some herbs and making a hot, venison stew for supper makes your mouth water. The rest of the meat could be dried out and made into a batch of jerky that could feed you for months. Months.

Then, you suddenly remember you’ve never even attempted to bring down an animal of that size before and you’re slapped back into reality.

You think about your father, who would bring home a deer every weekend after going on his hunting trips with some of his old college buddies. “You want to aim for the heart or the lungs,” he’d say as you and your siblings would watch him dress the carcass, much to your mother’s chagrin. “Look between the shoulder blade and the last rib,” he would tell you and your brothers. You’d also had an older sister, but she had always been incredibly squeamish and had a soul that was much too sweet and caring for hunting. She would always want to bring home every animal your father shot and nurse it back to health. “Somewhere between those two lies everything you need to hit in order to do the job and do it well. And for the love of god, don’t you ever aim directly for the shoulder. Behind it, kiddos, always aim behind it. You got it?”

“Yes Papa,” you’d all chime out together.

Setting down the binoculars in your hands, you reach for your bow and pluck an arrow from your quiver before stepping out from behind the boulder. You’re careful to be as silent as possible as you take a few steps closer towards the unsuspecting grazing animal. You position yourself and stand perpendicular to the deer, placing your feet shoulder width apart—you’re a little farther from your target than you would have preferred, but you don’t want to risk going any closer and scaring her off, so it would have to do. Once you feel comfortable enough with your stance, you nock the arrow and set it on the string. You then hold the string and steady your grip on the bow, relaxing your shoulders before drawing it and pulling your arm back until you’ve reached your anchor point, which is always the corner of your mouth. 

Breathe, you remind yourself calmly as you aim at the delicate spot behind her shoulder blade. Nice and slow. Breathe.

Just as you’re about to release the arrow and take your shot, the deer whips her head back towards the trees and her ears prick forward—a split second later, she darts off, zooming across the field in the opposite direction of where you’d been standing. 

Your mouth falls open in disbelief. 

“Are you fucking shitting me?” you mutter under your breath.

Frustrated, you lower your weapon and just as you start to contemplate whether or not it’s even worth it to try and hunt her down on foot, you suddenly hear something—it isn’t until the noise draws closer to where you’re standing that you realize it’s the sound of a galloping horse.

Perplexed, you squint over in the direction of where you think it’s coming from, right near the edge of the trees. Then, just a moment later, a brown stallion emerges from the woods with a dark haired man riding in his saddle. He holds a rifle in one hand and clutches the reins tightly in the other. 

Gasping, you whirl around on the heel of your boot and immediately make a beeline back to the boulder. You swing around the rock and crouch down, ducking out of his sight. You couldn’t be too sure if he’d seen you or not, but it doesn’t matter—a wave of sheer panic washes over you and you can physically feel your own body preparing itself to go into fight or flight mode. Despite having your gun tucked into the waistband of your jeans, you still haven’t reached for it and continue to clutch your bow and arrow in your hands instead. 

Swallowing dryly, you turn and carefully lift yourself up just enough so that you can glimpse over the top of the boulder. That’s when you see a second man emerge from the woods. This one is blond and he is on foot instead of a horse. He’s also armed, carrying a shotgun. 

“You’re mine you fucking son of a bitch!” he shouts. He lifts his weapon, aims, and then squeezes the trigger, shooting the horse in the side and bringing him down instantly. His rider goes flying off and he hits the ground several feet away from the dead animal, landing so painfully hard that even from a distance you’d manage to hear the loud, cracking sound his body had made upon impact.

You momentarily freeze. 

Your heart anxiously jumps up into your throat as you watch the shooter begin to approach him. The attacker moves slowly and with no haste seeing as his helpless victim is lying there motionless on the ground with his eyes closed and no idea that he’s about to die. The blond man comes to a halt just a few feet away from him, grinning as he lifts his shotgun once again and points the barrel of it at the other man’s head. His index finger hovers over the trigger. 

Before your mind and body can even make the connection, you rise to your feet and aim your bow, swiftly sending an arrow straight through the blond man’s neck. He crumples, falling to the ground writhing and squirming as he bleeds out in less than sixty seconds.

You wait it out for another minute, refusing to move another muscle until his body finally goes limp and you are certain he’s dead. Taking a look around, you make sure the coast is clear and grab your belongings, slinging them over your shoulder before you make your way over to the scene. Unsure of whether or not there could be others heading in this direction, your plan was to pick off their guns and any other useful supplies before making a run for it back to the cabin. You crouch down beside the man you’d shot and killed, carefully pulling your arrow out of his neck. It makes a loud, horrid squelching sound as you remove it and blood from his jugular splatters your blue jeans. You then pick up his shotgun and check the chamber for ammunition. 

Just like the pistol tucked away in your waistband, there’s hardly any rounds left, making it all but useless. Rolling your eyes, you carelessly drop the gun on top of his chest and move on in search of the rifle. You spot it right beside the dark haired man.

Apprehensive, you cautiously make your way over towards him. With how still he had been lying, you could have sworn he was gone—perhaps the fall off of his horse alone had killed him. But just to be sure, you decide to give his side a harsh nudge with the toe of your boot. 

He groans and his head rolls to the side.

He’s still alive.

You effortlessly string the bloodied arrow in your hand and aim it right at his chest.

Move again and you’re dead, motherfucker.

“Ellie,” the man mumbles, his eyes still closed.

Ellie?

You slowly lower your bow.

Without realizing it, a little bit of your guard lowers along with it. 

Carefully, you sink down onto one knee next to the man and get a better look at him. He’s much older than yourself, somewhere in his fifties if you had to guess. He has harsh forehead lines, deep creases in between his eyebrows, a patchy beard that is speckled with many, many grays, and wild waves of thick hair that look soft to the touch. Though some of his features are a little worse for wear due to his age, he’s still quite a handsome man from what you can see. He also appears to be in decent shape, clean and well fed, and you detect the light scent of laundry soap on his clothes. Surely, he had to have been part of some kind of group, and judging by the leather trimmed saddle on his horse, this group was one that was very well off in this post outbreak world. 

You hesitate, but then lift a slightly trembling hand and take the side of his face, cupping it in your palm as you turn his head towards you. 

There’s blood on his right temple and your fingers reach up to touch what you had assumed was the source of the bleeding—but then you realize it was a scar, maybe an inch or two in length at most and completely healed. Your fingers trail up even further and venture into his hair which, as it turned out, is in fact just as soft as one would imagine. You find a small gash on his scalp and your fingers become coated in the man’s blood.

Must’ve hit himself on a rock or something.

Your hand leaves his hair and you place it on his broad chest as you begin checking him over for any other potential injuries or wounds. Slipping your opposite hand inside of his brown jacket, you lift the hem of the dark green thermal henley he’s wearing and you discover the scar on his temple isn’t the only one he possesses—he has several more, way too many for you to count on one hand alone. You’re so preoccupied with inspecting the remainder of his abdomen that you don’t even notice the way one of his hands is slowly reaching for yours, the hand that’s still resting on his chest, right over his heartbeat.

Semiconscious, the man takes your hand in his so damn gently that it startles you and takes you by surprise, but it doesn’t frighten you. Weakly, he laces his fingers together with your own and he speaks again, uttering softly, “Babygirl.”

Puzzled, your eyebrows knit together.

It almost sounds like he’s pleading.

For what—for who? For Ellie?

Is she the babygirl he’s referring to?

Your other hand moves up to his shoulder and you give it a violent shake. 

Hey, you’ve got to get up now.

“H—” You try to speak the words, but can’t. They’re formed in your mind and it feels like they are right there on the very tip of your tongue, but when you open your mouth, they refuse to come out. You frown.

It’s happened before. 

In the spring, you’d stumbled across a small group of people while out hunting in Idaho—it was the first time you had seen other human beings since leaving California in the fall. There had been both men and women and they even had children with them, but that did nothing to stop you from panicking when they’d approached you. One of the women cornered you, trying to tell you that they were traveling across the country to the east coast. “It’s okay,” she’d tried to tell you, holding up her hands. “We’re not bad people, I promise. We’re just trying to get to the quarantine zone in Boston. I think you should come with us, honey.”

You’d been so terrified that when you’d tried to tell her that you didn’t want to join them, you couldn’t push the words out. It felt like your voice had gotten stuck in the back of your throat. That’s how afraid you’d been.

Technically, you can speak.

You’d talk to yourself often when you were feeling lonely. You would read the books you carried in your pack out loud. Hell, you even liked to sing.

But whenever you became stressed, anxious, or scared, it would happen. You’d lose your ability to speak and to communicate—not that you had anyone to communicate with except for yourself, but that’s besides the point. No matter how hard you tried to force your vocal cords, all you could get out were quiet, strangled noises. It was as if your own fears chased your voice away and during periods when you were under extreme distress, it would take several days for you to find it again. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that, whenever you used your voice back in California, it only led to the harshest of punishments. 

A gunshot sounds off in the distance, snapping you out of your train of thought.

You shake the man again, harder this time.

Come on, get up! They could be coming this way!

It’s useless. He’s losing complete consciousness. 

You hear another gunshot and this one sounds like it’s coming from the base of the mountain range on the other side of the trees, not all too far from where you are. For all you know, it could very well be members of his own group who are firing those weapons out there. But whether it was his group or the other man’s group, it doesn’t really fucking matter. You don’t want to run into either one of them, regardless of who were the good guys and who were the bad guys. In your eyes, everyone’s a fucking bad guy. 

Yanking your hand out of his, you get to your feet and prepare to make a run for it. But just as you’re about to take off, the man mumbles one last time. It’s incoherent and barely audible, but you manage to catch that name again. Ellie. 

Ellie, Ellie, Ellie.

For some reason you can’t quite explain, that sweet little name bounces around in the inside of your skull. 

You chew the inside of your cheek anxiously. 

If it’s his group out there, they’ll save him.

If it’s the other man’s group, they’ll kill him.

Normally, you’d have no problem with the idea of leaving another person to die.

After everything that happened in California, you had lost your sense of humanity. Your ability to empathize and actually give a shit about other people had been long gone—or so you’d thought. But you had just saved this man’s life and now you find yourself unwilling to run the risk of leaving him for dead. And you don’t have the slightest fucking clue as to why. He’s a stranger. He shouldn’t matter to you. 

You exhale a heavy sigh of defeat.

Okay, how the fuck do I do this?

Without much time left to waste, you gather up your belongings over your shoulder and pick up his rifle, slinging the brown leather strap across your chest so the gun rests comfortably against your backside. You walk around him, lean over, and hook your arms securely underneath his. Using every ounce of physical strength you have inside of you, you start dragging him back to the cabin as fast as you possibly can.

The pretty melody fills his ears as he comes to.

“Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high

there’s a land that I heard of once in a lullaby…”

Joel Miller isn’t all too sure if heaven is a real place that actually exists, but the very minute he hears the feminine voice singing, he can’t help but think he’s died and that’s exactly where he’s gone—because only an angel could possibly have a voice like that. So rich, so smooth, and oh so sickeningly sweet.

“Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue...”

The ballad being sung is all too familiar to him.

The Wizard of Oz had been Sarah’s favorite movie back when she had been a little girl, when she was seven years old and she still believed in princesses and fairy tales and faraway lands with yellow brick roads. Even when she grew older, his daughter continued to hold a soft spot for the film and Joel would watch it with her every Thanksgiving at his parents’ house right after their dinner—it would air on cable and Sarah would beg him to let her have her slice of pecan pie while sitting cross legged on the floor in front of his old man’s television set.

“So long as you don’t make a mess on Nana and PopPop’s carpet,” he’d warn her. “Deal?”

Sarah would beam at him and nod eagerly. “Deal!”

He’d grab his own slice of pie, park it right on the couch behind her, and together they would get lost in the whimsical world of Oz, although admittedly he’d usually fall deep into his food coma long before Dorothy had the chance to make it back home to Kansas.  

“Where troubles melt like lemon drops

away above the chimney tops 

that’s where you’ll find me...”

The words fade and the rest of the song is now being hummed.

Goddamn, he thinks.Even the humming is too fucking beautiful.

Joel feels a cold, damp cloth dabbing at his sore right temple.

Come to think of it, everything is fucking sore. 

Once, when Joel had been in his mid twenties, he had been doing some under the table roofing job with his younger brother, Tommy. It had been the hottest day of the summer in Texas, and the two of them thought having a couple cold beers with their lunch to cool off would be a good idea. The pair of them went back to work and started fucking around, goofing off like the drunk idiots they were. While horsing around, Joel accidentally stumbled right over the edge of the roof and he had fallen about fifteen feet to the ground, landing on his back on Mrs. Adler’s lawn. Luckily, he’d been okay after the fall and hadn’t sustained any serious injuries or broken any bones, but he had spent the following three to four weeks feeling like he’d been hit by a fucking Greyhound.

That’s how he felt now.

Like he’d been hit by a fucking bus. Twice. There isn’t a single part of him that isn’t pulsating with pain—his back, his shoulders, and his head. Oh god, his head feels the worst. It’s fucking killing him. 

Joel’s eyelids twitch and he cracks them open ever so slightly, just enough that he can see the silhouette of another person hovering over him. He feels a hand at the crown of his head as the other continues to dab at his temple with the cool cloth. It feels incredible against his warm skin and even sort of soothes the pain.

He lets out a small groan and the humming ceases.

Finally, he manages to force his eyes open.

Joel hears a little gasp and the bed he’s lying on squeaks and shifts. He then hears a loud thumping sound as if something, or someone had fallen to the floor. 

Although he’s still disoriented and his entire body aches with even the slightest movement, Joel manages to push himself up into a sitting position. Blinking rapidly, his blurred vision steadies itself after a minute and he glances around. He’s in a small, single room wooden cabin that has seen better days in its lifetime. Looking down, he sees that he’s lying on a bare, worn out mattress with his own jacket draped over him like a blanket. He racks his mildly concussed brain, trying to recollect what had happened—it takes him a minute, but one by one, the memories start flooding back to him. Joel had been leading mid morning patrol with Tommy when they had been ambushed by a large group of hostile raiders. He remembers shouting at his brother, telling him that he’d try and lead some of them off, away from the direction of their community. He’d succeeded and managed to pick off a few of the bastards that had been tailing him with his rifle, all except for one. The very last thing that he remembered was the sound of a gunshot behind him before his horse went down and he’d been thrown off and knocked out.

Everything after that was nothing but a blur.

Joel takes another look around the cabin and that’s when he sees you.

You’re on the floor, backed up against the wall near the foot of the mattress. Your eyes are wide and round, like a deer caught in the headlights. Your chest heaves, rising and falling rapidly—you remind him of a helpless, frightened animal that had been cornered by a vicious predator. You clutch the handle of a switchblade up against your chest with the blade pointing downwards, holding it so tightly in your hand that Joel can see the skin stretching tightly over your knuckles. 

“Who the hell are you?” He grimaces slightly, his own voice causing his head to throb. 

You don’t reply.

Joel moves onto his next question. “Where am I?”

Again, no response.

He tries again. “Are you alone?”

Silence. 

Joel takes a better look at you.

You’re young. You couldn’t have been older than your late twenties, perhaps even your early thirties although that might have been a bit of a stretch. You had that look about you, one that had become all but too familiar to him in the last two decades—the exhausted appearance of someone trying to survive in the post outbreak world. Your face is tired and worn, but somehow still soft and youthful at the same time. You might have looked a little rough around the edges, but you’re still the prettiest goddamn thing he’s seen in a long, long time. 

Joel speaks again. “Who are you? Where the hell are we?” When he’s met with complete silence for the fourth time, he raises an eyebrow, feeling annoyed. “You gonna fuckin’ say somethin’ or what?”

You can only stare at him, your fingers wrapped around the handle of your knife in a vice-like grip.

Joel frowns.

Are you really that fucking terrified of him?

Or perhaps you can’t hear?

Only one way to find out, he thinks to himself.

He raises his voice, asking once again, “Who are you? Where are we?”

You wince, your features twisting in discomfort.

Oh, you could fucking hear him, alright. 

Joel swings his legs over the side of the mattress, his movement causing you to shrink back further against the wall, almost as if you were trying to become a part of the old, rotted wood. He holds up his two hands, demonstrating that he has no plans to move another muscle towards you. “How long have I been out?”

He tries to show some patience and gives you a minute, gives you a chance to respond, but when you say nothing, he can’t help but sigh out in frustration. Just when he’s about to force himself to come to terms with the fact that he wouldn’t be getting any kind of answers out of you, you lift your free hand and hold up three trembling fingers. 

His stomach sinks. “Three days? I’ve been out for three fuckin’ days?”

You give him a nod so tiny and so subtle that he would’ve missed it had he blinked.

“Fuck,” Joel curses, hanging his head. He begins to spiral.

What happened to Tommy? And the others? 

Did they make it out alive?

And then Ellie’s face flashes in his mind, causing the blood in his veins to run ice cold. 

What could she possibly be thinking right now after he’d been missing for three whole days? Who was taking care of her and looking after her while he wasn’t there?

He needed to get back to Jackson—he needed to get back to Ellie.

He wasn’t sure how he would be able to do that if you didn’t start talking soon and answering his goddamn questions.

Lifting his head, Joel looks over at you again. 

“You all by yourself?”

You hesitate, but then nod in reply. Yes.

Joel sighs, his tense shoulders relaxing. That’s a start. “Listen, I’m gonna need a little help here, alright? I don’t remember much ‘bout what happened. I’m part of a community. I was out on patrol with my group when we were attacked by raiders. There were too many of them and I tried to lead some of them away,” he explains. He might not have known what had happened after he’d been thrown off of his horse, but the fact that he’s in your cabin and he’s alive help him piece at least one part of the puzzle together. “Wait a minute. Did you—did you save me out there?”

Sucking in your bottom lip, you nod again.

Stunned, Joel’s eyebrows raise up towards his hairline. “You fuckin’ serious?” he can’t help but question in complete and utter disbelief. Skeptically, he presses, “But how? What happened out there? How did you get me here all by yourself?” His queries spill from his lips one after the other despite knowing most of them, if not all of them, would go unanswered.

You look overwhelmed by them—by him.

Figuring it’s best to take it one slow step at a time, Joel stands up and he cautiously walks over towards you. He holds out his hand. “S’alright,” he assures you in the most gentle voice he can muster. “I ain’t gonna hurt you.”

You refuse to loosen your grip on your knife, but you accept his hand and allow him to help you up to your feet. Given that you didn’t lodge the blade straight through his chest, Joel would say some progress had been made. 

He releases your hand and takes a step backwards to give you your space. He isn’t too sure if you can’t talk or simply don’t want to talk—still thinking you’d been the woman he’d heard singing when he had drifted back into consciousness, he guesses it’s probably the latter. 

Joel tries to think of questions he knows you’ll be able to answer without having to speak. 

“How long have you been by yourself?”

Shifting anxiously from one foot to the other, you hold up one finger. 

“Sorry darlin’ but that don’t really help me much,” he mutters, shaking his head. “Are we talkin’ one week? One month?”

You make a gesture with your hand. Keep going.

“One year?” He doesn’t bother hiding his blatant skepticism. “You’ve been completely alone for one whole year?”

You point at him. That’s right. 

Joel is beside himself. He’s almost in awe over the fact that you’ve survived on your own for so fucking long.

“You got any other weapons besides that knife?”

You nod over towards a bow and sheath of arrows next to your backpack.

“You’re kiddin’ me. That’s all you’ve got?”

You narrow your eyes at him.

Hey, it’s a good weapon and it saved your fucking life, thank you very much.

“Sorry. Just can’t imagine that thing would do much against a clicker. ‘Specially if your aim is shit,” Joel muses. He notices the offended expression on your face and quickly moves on. “You don’t have a gun at all?”

You reach behind yourself and pull out a colt pistol from the waistband of your jeans. You finally set down your knife and then show him that you’re low on ammunition and don’t have any more. Tucking the gun back into your jeans, you step around him and walk over to a corner where his rifle is propped up against the wall. You pick it up, make your way back over to him and hand it over. 

I believe this belongs to you.

“Thank you,” he utters quietly, taking it from you. “And I ain’t talkin’ ‘bout the gun, either. I honestly don’t think I’d be standin’ here alive if you hadn’t done whatever it was you did out there.” His eyes try meeting yours. “I’m serious, darlin’. I owe you one. I really fuckin’ do.”

You shrug, too timid to meet his gaze.

“I’m Joel,” he says after a minute, setting his rifle down. “What’s your name?”

You simply stare at him.

“Oh that’s right,” Joel mumbles sheepishly. “You can’t—” He stops himself, but he’s sure you know what he’d meant to say.

You can’t talk.

“You got a pencil or somethin’ to write with?”

You snort and roll your eyes at him. No, sorry. Silly me totally forgot to pick up a pack of pencils while I was out scavenging for supplies the other day.

Joel chuckles and holds up his hands in defense. “Figured it was at least worth askin’,” he says. “It’d be kinda nice to know the name of the person who saved my fuckin’ ass, you know.” He clocks the way the corners of your mouth threaten to turn upwards into a tiny smile at his remark. “How ‘bout a map? You got one of those so you can show me where we are?”

You hold up a finger, as if telling him to give you a minute. Digging into one of the front pockets of your pack, you pull out a large map of the state of Wyoming. It’s severely creased, as if you’ve folded and unfolded it hundreds of times. You hand it over to him and as he holds it out for you, you point to your current location. 

“Jackson’s ‘bout fifteen miles south from here,” Joel murmurs as he scans the map. Suddenly, his dark brown eyes flicker over your wrist—the long sleeve of your thin gray shirt had hiked up, exposing severe discoloration and scarring that went all the way around, marking your skin. 

Noticing where his gaze had wandered off to, you quickly retract your hand away from the map and tug your sleeve down back into place. But it’d been much too late. He had seen the mark, clear as fucking day. 

Joel awkwardly clears his throat and for the sake of not causing you any discomfort, he pretends he hadn’t seen a goddamn thing. He turns his attention back to the map. “Remember how I told you I’m a part of a community? It’s in Jackson and it ain’t all too far from here,” he states, peering up at you from over the top of the map. “The town’s gated and it’s secure. You’ll be safe there. If we head out right now, we can make it there by nightfall—”

You back away from him, shaking your head.

I’m not going with you.

He cocks an eyebrow at you. “Look darlin’, I don’t mean to offend, but you ain’t gonna last a whole lot longer out here on your own, especially not in a place like this with winter right around the corner. If you don’t starve to death, then you’ll fuckin’ freeze to death.”

You glare at him and lift your chin.

I’ve been doing just fine on my own, thanks. 

Having read your mind, Joel sighs. “Alright, fair enough. You’ve gotten this far by yourself, but that don’t mean you gotta turn down an offer for some help. Just come with me to Jackson—”

You shake your head even harder.

The last time that you had agreed to go back with a stranger to their camp, you’d been imprisoned. Tortured. 

Joel observes you, and it doesn’t take him very long to connect the dots between the scars around your wrists and your refusal to leave with him. His hard, stony face softens. “Listen sweetheart, I ain’t all too sure ‘bout what’s happened to you,” he says, choosing his words carefully. “But I can assure you that you ain’t gotta worry ‘bout a thing this time around. Just come with me and I’ll prove it to you.”

You toss him a skeptical look.

“Jackson is a safe place,” he swears. “My brother runs it along with his wife and a small council. There’s families, lots of children—hell I’ve got a kid myself. Teenager. Her name is Ellie and she’s fifteen years old.”

Your lips part slightly and your eyes glimmer with something that looks a lot like recognition, though Joel can’t be too sure what had prompted it. Perhaps you’d known someone with that name once in your life. 

“There’s plenty of food, running water, electricity,” he lists off in an attempt to sway you. “It’d be a shot at a normal life. Wouldn’t you like that?”

Crossing your arms, you lift your chin again.

You’d heard that before.

Why the hell should I even trust you? Why should I trust this place is what you say it is?

Joel bites back another frustrated sigh. 

Normally, he wouldn’t bother to put up with such stubbornness. He wasn’t one to plead or beg and part of him almost wanted to give up so he could be on his way, but you had saved him from being killed. He owed you his fucking life. He had to get you to go with him. He wouldn’t give up until you agreed to go to Jackson with him. 

“I’ll let you carry your weapons,” he offers as a compromise. “Hell, you can even walk behind me with your gun pointed at the back of my fuckin’ head if that’s gonna make you feel safest.”

You squint at him. Really?

“Or that bow of yours,” he adds, chuckling softly. “It’s your pick, darlin’. Whatever’s gonna make you feel comfortable. I’ll trust you not to shoot an arrow through the back of my skull—all I ask in return is that you at least make an attempt to trust me too. I think that’s a fair enough deal. Don’t you?”

You bite your bottom lip. 

I don’t know about this.

“I really don’t wanna leave you out here all alone,” Joel says, taking a step closer towards you. He finds himself feeling surprised that it hadn’t startled you and he only hopes that means that, to some degree, you trust him already. “Please. You saved my life—and I know you probably don’t need me savin’ yours, but at least let me take you to Jackson so you can see for yourself what we’ve got goin’ on there. If you don’t like it and you don’t wanna stay, then we’ll load up your pack with food and supplies. We’ll put you on a horse and you can be on your way. You can choose to leave and no one will lift a finger to stop you, I’ll make sure of it. How does that sound?”

He waits, giving you a chance to think it over.

Finally, after a minute, you sigh and reluctantly nodd your head. 

Okay. I’m gonna try and trust you.

“Good,” Joel says, softly. “Now get your stuff and let’s head out before we start losin’ daylight.” 

[777gojosgf]

WHEN THE NIGHT CALLS

777GOJOSGF IS TYPING…

777gojosgf: morally grey!f!reader x satoru gojo

IN WHERE :: no one has an idea who you are but somehow you are always there to help them out with special grade curses.

a/n: something different for once. might start a fanfic on ao3/wattpad and write their entire story?

THE SOUND OF YOUR HEELS hitting the pavement reverberated throughout the deserted street of shibuya, tokyo. after handling a battle with a special grade curse, the cold weather caused your hair to flap in the wind as you adjusted the mask you were wearing to hide your identity. although some would mistake you for a top jujutsu sorcerer, you saw yourself as merely a sorcerer and had no desire to have anything to do with that organisation.

the reason for that was because, up to the point of her death, your mother—a sorceress who studied at a jujutsu academy—had never been treated fair. when you lost the lady you most looked up to, you were just twelve years old. you therefore had every motive to oppose them and any other organisation that chose to employ young youths as jujutsu sorcerers in order to carry out their nefarious plans.

you despised all of them.

ironically, you shared the same extremely complicated cursed energy from birth, but you didn't realise until you were eighteen years old that your father belonged to a well-known clan whose history dates back centuries. however, because you were born out of marriage and so labelled a "bastard," you were not named as the clan's heir.

little did they know that the reason their reassigned heir was killed was because you had caught him trying to drunkenly assault the female workers in a casino while gambling his fortune away.

even though you were getting invitations to join cults on a daily basis, you were too conscious of your morality to become a curse user. since everyone had heard about you, they all wanted you. though not many could claim to have seen you.

your talent was stealth.

he’d trained you himself, having been placed in an orphanage whose owner had experience with kids just like you. helping you discover your inner strength and the vast power that resides within you. he had never seen power like that before.

well, admittedly the power of the six eyes couldn’t be denied.

“back again?” his voice was heard from behind you and you couldn’t help the smirk that was appearing onto your face.

"just afraid you will miss me." standing towering on the roof, you purred in the same taunting tone he had used although you like to spend your nights overlooking the tokyo skyline from the top of this favourite skyscraper, you weren't the only one who knew about this location.

which made you remember the night you had met him.

now as you were standing up on the skyscrapers railing, your back to the fall that would ultimately claim your life, it was evident enough that he would follow you, and you could feel his presence standing directly in front of you. the combined energy that the two of you held was probably enough to bring down the milky way along with the world.

however he was known.

and you were not.

not even to him.

there was no way he could have recognised you, not even if you had told him your name. in addition to the mask, you were wearing black contacts to cover up the violet tinge that touched your iris and gave away your clan.

the power that you held.

“i have known you a little over four months now. do you still think we are not on first name basis?” he questioned while rising his eyebrow.

“keeping count i see, but guess not. try again in maybe ten years?”

he scoffed and moved closer towards the railing, standing almost next to you now. “you are easy to find, mask girl. would have thought it was harder to find you on a night like this. don’t you think?”

“i’m only found when i want to be found,” you started with your voice as cold as ice.

“so you wanted me to find you?” he asked while pursing his lips in thought.

foolish.

“we all want so many things, gojo. you shouldn’t dwell too much on the small details.” you answered and realized that this conversation wasn’t going to be as innocent as the ones were before. no, he had come here with a mission.

to figure out who you are.

and the ways to break out of this discourse with the gojo satoru were few. running would not be beneficial since he may intercept you and tackle you in the middle. additionally , there were no other buildings that you could leap over, and even if there were, you couldn't get away from him.

he would still follow you.

so, you decided on the most forward answer.

you leaned backwars and gave him a feverish smile, “nice talk, gojo. but i hope you know i’m not as stupid as you believe me to be.”

and with that, you threw yourself off the building, falling back, giving yourself up to the air and letting it carry you all the way to the pavement. as you peered up into the sky and saw the white-haired man staring down at you as you dropped, a wave of adrenaline shot through your body.

it felt quite liberating.

and you employed your invincibility technique to absorb any contact for the next five seconds without getting hurt till you were roughly thirty meters off the pavement. the drawback is that at that moment, any other curse user might locate you.

but that only excited you.

let them come.

once your feet hit the ground you wondered how long it would take for him to teleport towards you and if he even would bother to do so. maybe he wouldn’t after all.

you soon realised that he wouldn't show up, so you picked up the pace and ran through the late-night streets of tokyo. you’ve never felt more alive. the rush of the free fall was still coursing through your veins, giving you the impression that anything was possible at this point. you were relieved that you didn't have to report to any wackier higher ups or be bound by missions that you didn't care about. and it's obvious they wouldn't about you.

as they hadn’t about your mother.

and the day would still come to that you would make them pay.

all of them would.

however, you were aware that not even satoru gojo, who you discovered shared your distaste for the higher authorities, would permit you to accomplish so without first passing him.

an exciting fight that would be, right?

©777gojosgf

a/n: ummmmm you know what’s coming next😁😁

[dcdreamblog]

Question.

I have heard people assert that the current bearer of the heroic identy of the Guardian is a clone of the original. I have also seen photos of The Guardian working with the Titans, and...he's very clearly a Black man.

So, um. I have questions, because you would think the newspapers back in the '30s would have... mentioned this, especially given how he was reported to have campaigned hard to ease ethnic tensions in the poorer parts of Depression-era Metropolis, denouncing those who exploited or exacerbated those tensions as being friends of crime and enemies of America's ideals even before the War started?

Ok so, we're crossing a lot of streams here and I want to you to know that that's normal. These sorts of things are opaque and confusing and that is why we HAVE people like my in the first place. You are thinking of 3 different men right now. In order:

Guardian I, AKA James Jacob "Jim" Harper

(Sketch of Harper and his wards the "Newsboy Legion" signed by the legendary pop artist and correspondent Jack Kirby)

Harper was indeed born and raised as an orphan in the Metropolis neighborhood known as Suicide Slum (the name has stuck but I can tell you, in the 21st century it's as clean and safe as the rest of Metropolis, mostly to Black Lightning's credit). During the depression it was infamous for a reason, flush with organized crime, poverty and corruption.

Harper originally attempted to serve his community as a police officer but found that the police department was half or more of what was wrong with the neighborhood in the first place. After being assaulted by some gangsters he cobbled a costume together from a nearby shop (which he still paid for, incidentally). Bursting into a nearby pool hall his attackers frequented, he actually ended up busting open a rather high profile kidnapping case.

Eventually he became the legal guardian of a group of young delinquents called the Newsboy Legion and helped to turn them toward the path of righteousness. He joined up with the All Star Squadron early, served with distinction during and after the war. (We have an exhibit here all about him, the costume and shield are reproductions of course because both are still in use more or less, even if they weren't they're rightfully in the hands of his next of kin)

He was cloned under vile circumstances by the equally vile Project Cadmus, who were up to all kinds of immoral and unethical genetic experiments. When Harper attempted to put a stop to it, he was killed by Cadmus' head of security.

The murder was uncovered and prosecuted through the combined work of Superboy, the clone of Harper and Cadmus' secretly enslaved workforce the Genomorphs. Who are a subject all of their own but, if any should be reading this, I hope you are thriving.

The cloned Harper is still active as a superhero in the modern day. One can assume under an assumed name but variants of "Jim Harper" wouldn't jump out at people even if he was going by it day to day. Out of respect for his privacy I'm not going to speculate any further into his personal life, one can assume he has been through MORE than enough.

Now the other man you spoke about is VERY mysterious indeed...

(The 3rd Guardian alongside Bumblebee in battle against The Ant, unknown photographer, posted online) You are right in that he is very clearly a black man and that is basically ALL I can say about him. He seems to come and go, always in the company of the Teen Titans, is in some manner of romantic relationship to mainstay member Bumblebee and he just up and vanishes for long stretches of time. (This was put together by clips captured of them in combat. Referring to Bumblebee as "baby", "dear" or "my girl". And being referred to as "babe", "lover" and "man of mine")

Theories, of course, abound with the most popular one being that he is the romantic partner/husband/whatever of Bumblebee in their civilian identities and while not a superhero by trade he will take up this identity when needed. A "friend of the family" I guess you could say who hops in when the Titans need an extra pair of hands.

He's competent in combat and seems to be trusted implicitly by the Titans themselves so who the hell am I to judge?

[staylovesmiley]

Going Dumb~ Chapter 1

ᯓᡣ𐭩Pairing; Kim Seungmin x Fem!reader , Stray Kids x Fem!reader

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᯓᡣ𐭩Summary; It had been over a decade since you had last seen each other, having met in choir when Seungmin was living with his grandparents in LA and you with your Aunt. Now that you are both presented adults, how will he handle a change to the reality of you he had made in his mind in your absence over the years?

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᯓᡣ𐭩 Notes; This is an ABO!AU. in this world when someone reaches puberty they will present with one of three sub genders; alpha, beta, or omega. Due to Alphas and Omegas experiencing rut and heat, some jobs are restrictive as to what sub genders they will hire, specifically singling out omegas as heat suppressants are harder to obtain than rut suppressants. Scent glands are located near the pressure points on the neck and small hormonal patches called scent blockers can be placed over them to reduce or rid an individual of their scent for a period of time depending on the strength of the hormones in the patch.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩Warnings; abo!au, beta!kim seungmin, almost all alpha!straykids, poly!pack dynamics, female!reader, angst, mild violence, mentions of sexual harassment/assault and discrimination, smut, enemies to lovers, Kim seungmin is kind of an ass I’m so sorry dandy boy, she/her pronouns used for reader, jealous seungmin, I have only ever wrote one abo story before but it is one of my favorite genres so I hope I can do this justice~

(masterlist here)

“God I can’t believe how unreasonable they are being!” Seungmin shouted, slamming the front door behind him as he stormed into the dorm and threw his bag down before pausing to take off his shoes. He made his way to the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water to calm down while two heads peeked over the edge of the couch to watch him curiously. “What’s up, pup?” Changbin questioned with a teasing smirk, quickly wiping it off his face as the younger turned to glare at him dangerously. “My parents, they are being ridiculous.” He huffed, setting his glass down on the counter before rubbing at his face with exhaustion.

Changbin looked to Felix who sat beside him, the younger alpha shrugging and they both turned back to the beta. “What do you mean, Seungie?” Felix asked as he patted the spot beside him for the younger to join. Reluctantly he took him up on the offer and sat beside the pair on the large brown leather couch. “It’s kind of a long story- and everyone should probably be here cause it kind of involves all of us…” he said with a grumble, not looking forward to having a pack meeting over this. Changbin nodded and sent a message in the group chat.

Seungmin tried to calm down while waiting for everyone to arrive. With it being an off day for most members, it didn’t take long and soon all they were waiting for was their pack alpha who just happened to be walking through the door. “Hey Minnie what’s up? What’s with the need for a pack meeting?” Chan raised an eyebrow, usually he was the one to call for such meetings but he could tell instantly that it was serious and something was bothering their beta.

Sighing, the young beta straightened up and ran a hand through his hair. “So- god this is gonna be a lot I’m so sorry…” everyone rolled their eyes at his stalling and Minho hit him over the head lightly from where he was standing behind the couch. “Spill, puppy.” The younger growled lightly, though not as menacing as he wished it would be to the alpha. “There is this girl-“ Hyunjin gasped loudly, hand over his chest in a dramatic display of teasing faux shock. “Our puppy gets bitches?!” This exclamation earned him a pillow to the face from Jeongin and everyone shouting at him to let the second youngest continue his story before making comments.

“As I was saying, there is this girl who I used to know from when I was in the states, right?” He rolled his eyes at the thought, huffing a bit. “Super annoying alpha from choir who would always hang around me and made everyone avoid me like the plague cause of how annoying she was-“ Shaking his head, he decided he was getting off track. “Anyways, her aunt became friends with my parents and they apparently kept in touch all this time and she is coming to Korea to start working.” So far everyone was following, full attention on the beta in front of them. “Well- she was gonna be staying with my parents I guess while she gets settled and finds a place to live but since they are about to go on this big anniversary trip they don’t want her to get lonely at the house all by herself.” Once again he rolled his eyes in annoyance.

“Get to the point, pup.” Chan urged him, arms crossed over his chest as he saw the others starting to get impatient. “They are bringing her here to stay with us until they get back since we have that spare room and apparently decided we should reconnect or whatever after all this time- as if we were ever really friends to begin with….” He spewed so fast he almost tripped over his words, wincing a bit as he waited for them to scold him for not protesting his parents favor harder.

Everyone stared at him a bit, mixes of disbelief, confusion, and slight amusement from some. “I tried to tell them we are about to have a comeback and won’t be here much as it is and she’d be better just staying at the house anyways but they used that as an excuse that she won’t be a bother cause we won’t have to see her much.” Seungmin groaned, placing his head in his hands. “I’m sorry guys- she should be here in a few hours I just found out on my drive back from vocal lessons.”

Chan shrugged, trying to keep his scent neutral as to keep everyone calm. “Hey, it’s okay Minnie. I’m sure she isn’t as bad as you remember, I mean it’s been a long time since you were in the states yeah?” He nodded, looking up at the oldest with a slight pout. “Yeah…I guess-“ Felix patted him on the back and Minho sighed as he pushed away from the couch. “Well I guess I’ll go get that spare bedroom ready for a guest. Any idea how long she’ll be here?”

Thinking for a bit, trying to recall all his mother had spewed to him about his childhood “friend’s” visit while he seethed quietly on his end of the line. “I don’t know- they will be gone a month but she could find an apartment sooner than that? At least a month then she will go back to my parents. She’ll be their problem.” He groaned, standing up to get his glass of water again and calm his agitated scent. What were his parents thinking dumping you on him like this was some sort of boarding home.

It was about a half an hour after the pack meeting that there was a ring of the doorbell chiming through the apartment. All the members’ heads popped up to look around before Seungmin huffed in annoyance and went to answer it. Upon opening the door his eyes landed on you, suitcases slightly behind you and a shy smile on your soft features. You were dressed in ripped light wash jeans and a plain black hoodie so oversized it fell at almost mid thigh over your jeans. You looked good and he mentally cursed himself for thinking so.

“Seungmin? Oh my god it’s been….forever.” You said the last word breathlessly, looking him up and down with a little giggle as you took in his appearance. “Didn’t think you’d be taller than me someday.” You teased lightly, watching as his eyes rolled and his scent spike with agitation. “Come in, I guess….where is mom and dad?” He questioned, stepping aside to allow you in before peeking out into the hall to search for them. “Um in a hurry to get back to the airport so they just dropped me off and told me what door to go to…” you said, awkwardness laced in your tone as you pulled your rolling suitcases in with you and looked up to find several pairs of eyes locked onto you.

“Oh- are these your pack mates?” You asked softly, looking around at them with a soft wave and what you hoped was a friendly smile. “Yes. Try not to bother us too much, yeah? We’re very busy right now.” He huffed as he closed the door behind you and grabbed a suitcase with one hand and your wrist with the other causing you to yelp softly at the sudden grip. “Come on I’ll show you where you can stay…” he grumbled out, ignoring the look Chan shot his way before the elder stepped out in front of the two of you to stop him. “Seungmin, are you not going to introduce us?” He asked, eyebrow raised at him before shooting a soft smile to where you stood behind him. “Hi, I’m Bangchan. You can just call me Chan, though.” He said holding a hand out to you.

You tensed a bit, his strong saltwater scent washing over you as if you had just dived head first into the ocean. “Y/n, but everyone calls me-“ Seungmin cut you off, rolling his eyes a bit. At this rate they would fall out of his head with how hard and how many times he was making the gesture.

“Bunny. Everyone calls her Bunny. And that’s Changbin, Jeongin, and Felix on the couch, Hyunjin is the one lurking in the kitchen pretending not to be paying attention, Jisung is in his room, and Minho is in the room you’ll be staying in still I think? He may have gone to his room already-“ Seungmin said as he pointed to everyone’s location before looking at Chan with impatience. “There, introduced. Now can I show them to their room, hyung?” He asked with a slight annoyance in his tone that the older didn’t appreciate. “Puppy…manners.” Is all he said, before stepping aside. “It’s nice to meet you, Bunny.” The alpha said with a wink before heading off to his own room.

You blushed slightly, trailing silently behind your old friend as he lead you into a plainly decorated room with just a bed and bedside table. Minho had indeed already retired to his room so Seungmin gestured to the mostly empty space then sighed. “Here. Don’t make too much noise and again, don’t bother us.” You nodded, taking a deep breath before grabbing onto his wrist as he tried to leave. “Wait- Minnie? Um it’s really nice to see you again. I’m really happy for you and all you’ve accomplished….I hope your parents have sent you my well wishes over the years.”

They indeed had constantly kept him up to date with the messages you had sent to him, though he wondered why after all these years of him dodging any attempts to keep in touch you would care to wish him well or say they are happy for him. “Right, yeah they have. I’m going to wash up, just keep to yourself while you’re here yeah? And don’t call me that.” He said, his usually neutral clean laundry scent souring with his attitude as he quickly left you alone in the room, shutting the door behind him.

You were left standing in the room, a little dumbfounded at his attitude before you scratched a bit anxiously at the scent blockers on your neck. You rolled your suitcases over to the closet and laid them down so it would be easier to go through them when needed, humming softly to yourself before there was a knock at the door. A young man with short black hair and catlike features peeked his head into the room but had his eyes covered by one hand. “Decent?” You giggled a bit, nodding. “Yeah- you’re good.”

Removing his hand from his eyes, the man smirked as he fully entered the room. “Im Minho, you’re uh Bunny, right?” He asked, eyebrow raised with amusement. “Mhm that’s me! It’s nice to meet you.” You reached out, shaking his hand before standing. “Likewise. Sorry for the puppy’s behavior earlier….” You shrugged, sighing a bit. “It’s probably warranted…I feel bad for letting there be distance between us for so long I should have tried harder to keep in touch.” Curiosity flooded his warm caramel scent as he looked at you quizzically. “You seem to be more fond of him than he is of you…” with another sigh you nodded your head. “It seems so, yeah…I’m sure he’ll warm up though it’s just been a while.” Minho nodded slowly.

“Right….anyways- I was coming to say dinner is ready if you wanna come grab something to eat? It’s just pizza we weren’t really up to cooking tonight.” You beamed at his kindness and shrugged slightly. “Sounds good to me!” You said, following him out as he lead the way to the dinning room where multiple pizza boxes lay open on the table.

Everyone was congregated in the living room, something random on the tv for background noise as they ate in relative silence. You got yourself a slice and sat down at the table alone, getting the feeling Seungmin didn’t want you to interact with his pack much but Minho rolled his eyes and took a hold of your wrist, pulling you with him to the living room where everyone else was waiting. “No really it’s fine- I can even eat in my room if you-“ the alpha looked back to give you a look that this was nonnegotiable and you relented, head hung slightly causing everyone’s interest to pique slightly with your easy submission.

Once you settled on the floor with your place on the coffee table in front of you, Minho spoke up. “Can I get you something to drink?” You looked up blinking a bit before answering. “Water please?” He smiled warmly and nodded, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and handing it to you before taking his seat. “Seungmin said you’re here for work, yeah? What is it you do?”

You took a sip of your water before replacing the cap and setting it down. Looking up to see it was Chan who had asked you the question. “This is going to sound so cliche but- I’m an English teacher.” This caused them all to look around subtly with more confusion, teaching not being a job many alphas applied for though it wasn’t unheard of. Chan asking you your line of work caused the preverbal glass to tip over and the others began spouting out questions of their own.

“What made you want to teach in Korea?” Came Jeongin, taking a bite of his pizza so large it was almost the whole slice at once. “Oh well I was originally a teacher back in America, for a few years now, but it wasn’t as much money compared to the cost of living….I was talking to Minn- uh Seungmin’s sister and she told me I should try teaching over here.” They all nodded, glancing between you and Seungmin to see his reaction to the mention of his older sister and he simply at his dinner, pretending not to care or listen as his pack mates entertained you.

Next came Changbin, an amused smirk on his lips. “Why do you go by Bunny?” This got Seungmin’s attention and he answered for you in a mocking tone. “Because when she was little she had huge front teeth and always scrunches her nose like a baby bunny. Also had a habit of eating raw vegetables like crazy.” He scoffed, causing you to look down at your lap with a sting in your chest. “Well yeah, thanks Seungmin that pretty much sums it up….I grew into my smile pretty much and I eat more than just veggies now but the name stick so hard-“ You continued to explain, causing the beta to groan exaggeratedly. “Uh- I’m from the south originally and once you get a nickname people from there won’t ever let you forget it. I got lucky mine isn’t too bad-“ you sighed, ignoring the feeling of Seungmin glaring at the back of your head.

The rest of the meal you tried to keep your answers short, fearing angering your old playmate any more for “annoying his members” assumingely. You were quick to help clean up, insisting it’s the least you could do for them allowing you to stay there with them. Once everything was cleaned up and the left overs were put away you had Minho show you to the bathroom and reach you how to work the shower before leaving you with your folded up pajamas, a towel, and your toiletries tucked to your chest to wash up.

While you showered in one bathroom, everyone else got ready for bed using one of the other two before they retired to their respective rooms to call it a night. As you scrubbed away the airport smells from your skin, you reached up and carefully peeled away the scent blocking patches you had on for far to long now. You sighed in relief at the lack of hormones clogging your glands and made sure to thoroughly wash the area to clean away any residue left behind.

Stepping out of the bathroom dressed in a pair of short black pajama shorts and an oversized sweatshirt you padded your way in socked feet to the room your be staying in, your warm citrusy scent quickly filling the apartment and causing the occupants to stir from their beds and make their way out to the hall. By the time all eight men congregated there you were already tucked away in your room, quickly falling asleep after the days travel and jet lag setting in.

“Uh, Seungmin I hate to break it to you but I don’t think your friend is an Alpha- did they tell you they were one?” Felix asked, looking over at him as they all took in your sweet scent. “No- neither of us had presented before I left to come back to Korea…I just- I assumed okay?” He groaned, placing his head in his hands. “What made you think they would be an alpha so strongly?” Changbin laughed, patting the beta on the back. “They were so obnoxious and loud and rowdy and annoying- oh um….No offense? But you know how alphas can be especially when just presenting! Remember Ji?”

All eyes fell on Han and he held his hands up in surrender. “Hey! I came to see the errors of my ways and have made amends-“ they all chuckled and turned back to the second youngest. “She used to get into fights all the time too! One time she beat up my buddy so badly she broke his nose!” He winced at the memory and Chan sighed, shaking his head as he leaned against the wall. “Look- Alpha or Omega it doesn’t matter. She didn’t seem to mind staying here knowing we are all, well almost all, alphas so we just gotta make sure we don’t make her feel uncomfortable. Got it?” Everyone nodded in the affirmative and a chorus of yawns rang out. “Let’s get some sleep, yeah? Busy day tomorrow only a few more til the comeback and we have a lot to prep still.”

Soon they all went back to bed, trying to get some sleep with the foreign but almost intoxicating scent coming from your room and settling well in the apartment with the other collective scents. Seungmin laid on his back for what felt like hours, staring up at the ceiling as it almost taunted him. All these years and any time you were brought up in his mind he knew you as that annoying little alpha who would never give him any space in choir. Hearing you were a teacher now, never having pursued music knowing the talent you held (despite his distaste for you he couldn’t deny that fact) made more sense knowing that the industry rarely accepted omegas, and even had some aversion to alphas.

Shaking his head of the thoughts of you swimming there, he attempted yet again to fall asleep but found it almost impossible knowing you already weren’t who he remembered you to be, and he couldn’t seem to over come the thought that his reality could be altered so quickly without any control. You were seeming to be the death of his sanity yet again and you had only just arrived.

author’s note: I real hope you all like this story- ૮꒰ “. . ꒱ა i purposely left off the readers sub gender from the tags because I wanted to at least attempt to surprise you all~ I’m already have a lot of fun with this series and have so many things planned I hope I can get it all to work (still would love suggestions though I get inspired and hyped up by you all so much ilysm) ᕱᕱ⊹ ࣪ ˖

taglist; @coastinglove @skzswife (if you want to be added to the taglist pls lmk)

[bardic-tales]

Title: Youth

Pairing: Bianca Moore (f!OC) / Sephiroth

Other Character: Professor Hojo

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 1591

Fandom: Final Fantasy VII, Ever Crisis

Setting: AU: Redemption

Warnings: Abuse, body horror, combat violence, cold & hypothermia, death, emotional distress, experimentation, fear, isolation, manipulation, paranoia, psychological trauma

Summary: In a stimulated combat scenario, Bianca and Sephiroth confront the powerful summons Bahamut and Shiva to prove their abilities to Professor Hojo.

Squared Filled: Youth

Created for: #SephirothWeek which is hosted by @week-of-silver-winds

Note: This is from my redemption!AU where the timeline becomes very canon divergent. Also, for anyone who is following along with my passion project, Sephiroth and Bia meet very young in this AU.

In it, Hojo is the primary antagonist. This fan fic takes place during Ever Crisis before the First Episode of the First SOLDIER. So, Seph is 15; Bia, 13.

Excerpt:

In a cry of agony, tendrils burst forth from her back, surged towards Shiva, and pierced the summon’s defenses.

Still, the battle raged on. The sound of steel and the crackling of frost echoed across the virtual world. Shiva moved weakly as they continued to carve into her. Sephiroth knew they couldn’t waste anymore time. Drawn-out displays wouldn’t satisfy Professor Hojo.

Thump. Thump. Thump. His heart beat. The young man held onto the military saber and slowly lifted the blade parallel to his head and shoulder as he eased into his combat stance. He looked at his companion: the young girl that had been a constant in his life for five years now, the only one he was allowed to converse with.

Their environment flickered and glitch before them. Solid powder-blue boxes swayed, pivoted on their axis, rose, and descended. From the west, a warm breeze blew across the stimulation, waving his shoulder-length silver hair and her waist-length midnight locks behind them like banners welcoming warriors home from a battle. He looked at the force before them.

The battle was yet to be won. He didn’t scowl or have much emotion, other than looking at their foes before them: Bahamut and Shiva.

“On my mark,” he said.

Bianca nodded, as she curled her right hand into a fist and slammed it against the silver habaki and ebony tsuka, gliding her hand to the left and pulling Noctemaris from the void between dimensions. The black and dark gray blade emerged behind her fist, sparkling and glimmering with star dust. “Which one first?”

They had to preform above expectations or Hojo would take Bianca from him and return her shaken, bruised, and broken. Even if that meant endured their training, he had to protect Bianca.

“Shiva,” he replied. “She’s the most threat to us, as you’re delicate around ice and cold.”

Without another word, Sephiroth surged forward. His eyes fixated on the ice goddess who loomed ahead. The air around Bianca and Sephiroth was already thick with frost. The chill clawed at his skin, but he pressed on. His determination was unyielding.

If I hesitate, he thought, it would mean failure. Failure would mean Hojo’s interference with Bianca once again. This was a thought he would not tolerate: her experimentation.

Nameless flashed as he closed the distance to the scantily clad summon. His movements were precise and deadly. The ground beneath him cracked with each step forward, as the frozen ground protested his advance.

Without breaking stride, he launched himself into a serious of rapid slashes. The rapid successions of strikes aimed at childing away at Shiva’s defenses. Her green hair flowed around her as she tried to defend against Sephiroth’s graceful brutality.

Bianca darted to the side, using his assault as cover. She moved with a grace that belied the dark power coursing through her veins. Her wings unfurled and cast a shadow over the battlefield. With a single, powerful beat of her wings, she lifted herself into the air. The surrounding shadows deepened and obscured her from Shiva’s gaze.

Sephiroth knew they would have to finish this quickly. The cold gnawed at Bianca, lining her flesh with ice crystals. If they didn’t end it quick, there was a real possibility for her to develop hypothermia.

He glanced up for a moment as darkness oscillated around her, concealing herself from both Sephiroth and Shiva’s view. As he continued his relentless assault, Bianca descended from above and plunged downward with Noctemaris.

In a cry of agony, tendrils burst forth from her back, surged towards Shiva, and pierced the summon’s defenses.

Still, the battle raged on. The sound of steel and the crackling of frost echoed across the virtual world. Shiva moved weakly as they continued to carve into her. Sephiroth knew they couldn’t waste anymore time. Drawn-out displays wouldn’t satisfy Professor Hojo.

“Now, Bianca,” he called above the din, signaling her to finish the summon while he intercepted Bahamut. Sephiroth spun on his heel. The dragon’s roar shook the stimulator.

With a surge of shadows, Bianca’s blade plunged into Shiva’s chest. The dark energies expanded from the blade, as the star-drench blade glowed now: a crimson nebula surrounded Noctemaris, the arms spinning wildly around the length of the blade.

Shiva shattered in a explosion of crystalline shards and darkness.

“Move!” he commanded Bianca. With a swift leap, he launched himself toward the dragon, ready to engage their next challenge before Hojo ended the stimulation.

Sephiroth now leapt at Bahamut. His saber poised to strike as the air seemed to crackle with the dragon’s raw, untamed power. The beast’s eyes glowed red as it inhaled the surrounding air. The very air sizzled around Sephiroth as the dragon prepared to unleash a burst of Mega Flare.

There was no time to hesitate. He pushed forward, leaping up into the air again and bringing down Nameless with a downward strike. The ground beneath him split into a pentacle. The impact sent a tremor through Sephiroth’s arms, but he didn’t relent.

Bahamut recoiled while Sephiroth concentrated. A large fireball hovered over his hand, which he immediately threw at the dragon’s large silvery leathery wings.

As Bianca still soared through the air, her tendrils quivered and writhed around her. The darkness emanating from her wings intensified, casting blackness over the entire stimulation. With a fierce cry, she dove before the dragon’s belly and jabbed at it with the tendrils. They lashed at Bahamut’s underside.

The dragon roared in fury. It swatted at Bianca with its colossal claws, but she weaved and bobbed out of reach, siphoning blood from the creature through her appendages. As she danced through the air, Sephiroth struck from the ground. A rapid sequence of eight quick thrusts and slashes severed the joints of Bahamut’s massive limbs. His blade moved like a flash of silver.

With a surge of dark energy, Bianca unleashed her fury. Her movements became a blur as Noctemaris carved through the air and Bahamut. Each stroke left behind a trail of shadow, sapping the dragon’s will and strength.

Bahamut’s once-mighty form wavered. With a last thrust from Nameless, the giant beast collapsed. Its form and energy dissipating into the air.

Silence fell across the stimulation as Sephiroth reached into his coat and retrieved his flip phone. With the press of the downward arrow, he scrolled through the options and hit ‘Mission Successful’. The screen flashed in confirmation. Before the stimulation collapsed around them, he took one look at Bianca and ensured she was unharmed. Tiny cuts and bruises lined her arms, but nothing severe.

After they removed their V.R. headsets, they were met by the calculating gaze of the Head of Research and Development.

“You both need to be faster. Train harder or you’ll never unlock your full potentials.” The mad scientist, a Shinra board member by the name of Professor Hojo, held the clipboard in his hand. He was shorter than the teenage boy, but he still held power over Sephiroth.

In his other hand, Hojo held a pen and scribbled down notes on the sheet of paper clipped to the board. “Especially you, Bianca. You have barely tapped into your potential abilities."

Sephiroth’s brilliant cyan gaze flicked towards Bianca. Her indigo eyes widened, blowing out her feline-like pupils. The string looping around their separate wrists pulsated an angry red, allowing the anxiety and fear running through the strings to settle deep within his own stomach. It amplified the fear, sending it back to the small girl.

“This separation will make both of you stronger,” Hojo said, as he gripped onto Bianca’s right bicep. His spindly fingers bit into her soft knitted turtleneck.

Although he didn’t show it, his heart galloped as he watched Hojo lead Bianca away. He had to shelter her from Hojo, and he would. Thump. Thump. Thump.

tagging some fellow mutuals: @themaradwrites @littleshopofchaos @serenofroses @megandaisy9 @watermeezer

@nightingaleflow @seastarblue @prehistoric-creatures @creativechaosqueen

@chickensarentcheap

[baldwin2001]

WARNING. ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE. SORRY FOR THE MISTAKES.

"Let go of me!"

"Silence, you shameless woman" said the gentleman without letting go of her arm while his other companion held her by the other arm.

"You will never silence me!" - she said with a hateful look. - "Let me go!"

Suri was being taken to King Baldwin IV after it was discovered that the red-haired Templar knight was actually a lady, and the other knights did not hesitate to take her to the king to have her head cut off, it was disrespectful for a woman to dress up as a man and fight with them.

"Your Majesty" - spoke a Templar in a loud voice.- "We bring you a shameless woman who has pretended to be a Templar knight."

"A woman?" asked the king.

"That's right, yes, your majesty."

The highest ranks of Jerusalem and the Knights Templar were together with King Baldwin IV, who was in the center of the place. They were meeting to discuss the assaults on the Muslim caravans near the city, which had been worrying everyone for a few weeks.

Upon arriving at the place both knights threw her to the ground, in front of the king, leaving her exotic red knight in sight.

Instantly Baldwin recognized her, he sighed stressed.

It was Suri, his beloved.

Despite the great love he had for her, he could not deny how reckless she could be.

"Lady Suri Sahar, the most stubborn and foolish woman I know" said Tiberius, noticing that this was the young red-haired girl he had known since she was a naughty little girl.

"Lord Tiberius, you know I am a great warrior, please. Let me stay with the Knights Templar and go fight against Saladin" begged the red-haired woman in front of the king's confidant.

"Arrogant woman!" The man who brought her was furious at her words, and was about to silence her with a blow, until the king himself spoke.

"Stop."

And the room fell silent, all looked to him; the leprous king. Wise and loyal before God and the people of Jerusalem, but damaged by leprosy since he was a child, that did not prevent him from being a great ruler.

"Lady Suri, you are permanently out of the Knights Templar" the monarch spoke firmly.

"But your majesty...!"

"Nothing!"- exclaimed Baldwin without a hint of kindness.- "Many of us in this room know of your skills with your back, they are magnificent. But to dress as a man and go to a showdown in Egypt is delicate."

"I am very sorry, your majesty. I will accept your punishment, even if this is banishment from Jerusalem or.... Death" Suri said trying to sound sure of her words, but at the end you could hear the fear in her voice.

Baldwin thought about it for a moment, she used to be rebellious and stubborn, he thought she was just going to apologize but banishment? Even...? Death? It was unthinkable, she would never do such a thing to her crimson flower.

"Tiberius, take her to my chambers, there I will tell her what her sentence will be."

Murmurs began to be heard throughout the room because of the king's words, but no one dared to raise his voice against the king, except for one.

"Your majesty, how can you say such a thing" -spoke Reinald of Chatillon with indignation- "She committed a grave act, she must be punished by death, the most faithful knights want her head."

"Silence!" -Baldwin rose from his throne, and spoke loudly.- "I am the king of Jerusalem, the highest authority. You nor any knight will choose your punishment or when, only I. Understood?"

"Yes, my king."

There was fear in his voice but also hatred, hatred of being humiliated again and again by a leper like him.

The meeting was adjourned. The monarch turned and left. Tiberios took Suri by the arm and they both followed the king. He looked angry because of his way of walking, quick and precise steps. He did not deign to look at her.

"My lord, I am sorry. I know I played with your trust..." a shout was heard in the corridor.

"You don't know anything" at last he looked at her, she was stunned.

She was stupefied.

He had never yelled at her. He always did silly things and sometimes made her hair stand on end from stress, and only got a few scoldings from her. He was always the serious and responsible part of the relationship, but this time it was different.

"Come" -he took her by the arm and led her to her room, without first giving Tiberios a glance- "No one is to enter."

"Yes, my lord."

He slammed the door shut, and began to walk around the room. Although I couldn't see his face, his blue eyes said it all, he was angry.

"Baldwin, I'm sorry" the redhead muttered.

Baldwin completely ignored her comment and walked over to her and grabbed her shoulders.

"Do you know what you just did? Do you even know?"

"I went to Egypt to fight like the warrior I am, I was very helpful." - The young woman spoke firmly before the king.

"You could have died, Suri" Baldwin said angrily.

"I know, my king."

"Are you aware of all the damage you would have caused me if that happened?" -he asked, sighed for a moment and then looked at her with concern. -. "When I saw you being brought by the knights like that I knew something was wrong."

"The last thing I want to do is to worry you" she commented sincerely.

On this occasion she was speaking the truth. Many times she liked to have fun with Baldwin, being a bit naughty. But this was not one of those, she had been of help in Egypt, because in addition to knowing how to handle the sword, she was good with medicine and first aid, managing to help many knights so that they did not go even with God.

The young monarch took her by the cheeks, staring at her through his mask, his blue eyes crystalline because of everything that had happened.

"I love you, Suri" - he whispered close to her lips - "I don't want to lose you."

"That's not going to happen, Baldwin. I swear" - she moved even closer to him, leaning her head on his chest, managing to listen to his heartbeat- "I love you too, how you have no idea."

"Promise you won't go to war."

"But Baldwin..." she blurted out, a little bit complaining about what her lover had said.

"Promise me" - she said almost in supplication.-"I just want you to be safe."

"I promise" she said resigned to his words.

"Thank you" she murmured close to his ear before giving him a soft kiss on his unruly hair.

[maaarine]

The Troubling Trend in Teenage Sex (Peggy Orenstein, The New York Times, April 12 2024)

"For the past four years, Dr. Herbenick has been tracking the rapid rise of “rough sex” among college students, particularly sexual strangulation, or what is colloquially referred to as choking.

Nearly two-thirds of women in her most recent campus-representative survey of 5,000 students at an anonymized “major Midwestern university” said a partner had choked them during sex (one-third in their most recent encounter).

The rate of those women who said they were between the ages 12 and 17 the first time that happened had shot up to 40 percent from one in four. (…)

Twenty years ago, sexual asphyxiation appears to have been unusual among any demographic, let alone young people who were new to sex and iffy at communication.

That’s changed radically in a short time, with health consequences that parents, educators, medical professionals, sexual consent advocates and teens themselves urgently need to understand.

Sexual trends can spread quickly on campus and, to an extent, in every direction.

But, at least among straight kids, I’ve sometimes noticed a pattern: Those that involve basic physical gratification — like receiving oral sex in hookups — tend to favor men.

Those that might entail pain or submission, like choking, are generally more for women.

So, while undergrads of all genders and sexualities in Dr. Herbenick’s surveys report both choking and being choked, straight and bisexual young women are far more likely to have been the subjects of the behavior; the gap widens with greater occurrences.

(In a separate study, Dr. Herbenick and her colleagues found the behavior repeated across the United States, particularly for adults under 40, and not just among college students.)

Alcohol may well be involved, and while the act is often engaged in with a steady partner, a quarter of young women said partners they’d had sex with on the day they’d met also choked them.

Either way, most say that their partners never or only sometimes asked before grabbing their necks.

For many, there had been moments when they couldn’t breathe or speak, compromising the ability to withdraw consent, if they’d given it.

No wonder that, in a separate study by Dr. Herbenick, choking was among the most frequently listed sex acts young women said had scared them, reporting that it sometimes made them worry whether they’d survive.

Among girls and women I’ve spoken with, many did not want or like to be sexually strangled, though in an otherwise desired encounter they didn’t name it as assault.

Still, a sizable number were enthusiastic; they requested it. It is exciting to feel so vulnerable, a college junior explained.

The power dynamic turns her on; oxygen deprivation to the brain can trigger euphoria.

That same young woman, incidentally, had never climaxed with a partner: While the prevalence of choking has skyrocketed, rates of orgasm among young women have not increased, nor has the “orgasm gap” disappeared among heterosexual couples.

“It indicates they’re not doing other things to enhance female arousal or pleasure,” Dr. Herbenick said.

When, for instance, she asked one male student who said he choked his partner whether he’d ever tried using a vibrator instead, he recoiled. “Why would I do that?” he asked.

Perhaps, she responded, because it would be more likely to produce orgasm without risking, you know, death.

In my interviews, college students have seen male orgasm as a given; women’s is nice if it happens, but certainly not expected or necessarily prioritized (by either partner).

It makes sense, then, that fulfillment would be less the motivator for choking than appearing adventurous or kinky. Such performances don’t always feel good. (…)

Now consider that every year Dr. Herbenick has done her survey, the number of females reporting extreme effects from strangulation (neck swelling, loss of consciousness, losing control of urinary function) has crept up.

Among those who’ve been choked, the rate of becoming what students call “cloudy” — close to passing out, but not crossing the line — is now one in five, a huge proportion.

All of this indicates partners are pressing on necks longer and harder.

The physical, cognitive and psychological impacts of sexual choking are disturbing.

So is the idea that at a time when women’s social, economic, educational and political power are in ascent (even if some of those rights may be in jeopardy), when #MeToo has made progress against harassment and assault, there has been the popularization of a sex act that can damage our brains, impair intellectual functioning, undermine mental health, even kill us.

Nonfatal strangulation, one of the most significant indicators that a man will murder his female partner (strangulation is also one of the most common methods used for doing so), has somehow been eroticized and made consensual, at least consensual enough.

Yet, the outcomes are largely the same: Women’s brains and bodies don’t distinguish whether they are being harmed out of hate or out of love."

[littlesparklight]

Been thinking about Astyanax and the sack lately - but not just Astyanax. All the children of Troy - the girl children, do all of them get to live? or only the ones old enough not to be too much distracting "burdens" on their mothers (or sisters, or etc). The ones that can be useful.

Because, like.

Yes, Astyanax dies. He's the one, somewhere between infant and at most five years old, that we know of. He's very conspicuously killed.

But Astyanax wouldn't be the only child to be killed. All male Trojans die (except for the exceptions; Helenus, Aeneas and the survivors with him, Antenor and whatever might be left of his formerly huge family).

Agamemnon in the Iliad (Book 6, line ~55-60, trans. Caroline Alexander): "[...] Let not a man of them escape sheer destruction and our hands, not even he whom the mother carries in her womb, the male child, may not even he escape, but together, all of them, may they be expunged from Ilion, without burial and without trace."

So, all men; but this also means any and all women far enough in their pregnancy to show. Because if you want to be assured all Trojan "men" die, and you're not even making exceptions for Trojans who would basically not be Trojans because they'd grow up as Achaean slaves and be more Achaean than not, then you do have to kill the pregnant women. It's not like you can know what the sex of the child they're carrying is. So a number of women would certainly have died during the sack, not just men.

And the viciousness of Agamemnon here isn't, I think, some exception in the tradition. I've brought this pithos from Mykonos (ca. 670 BC) up before but here:

Women being variously assaulted (one of these scenes are also thought to depict the death of Astyanax) and their small sons being murdered.

Like, even aside from how much the sack as a situation in how it happens (at night, after the Trojans and surviving allies were deliberately misled to thinking they have won and have been feasting and so are both asleep and drunk) is a particular vicious cruelty. The extra step of all male Trojans being killed, even those hypothetical unborn sons so you're killing two individuals at once, and the children much too young to ever fight or remember much in a few years, makes it even more so.

No one needs to go through the effort of throwing Astyanax off the city wall to kill him. A sword through that tiny body on the spot would be much easier, over much faster. Astyanax isn't just killed, but killed in the manner he is, specifically because he is the son of Hektor. Otherwise he would just have been killed like the boys depicted in the pithos above; on the spot, with a sword. Astyanax is special only because we know who he is, because he has the father he does, and so he is our emblematic and symbolic child of Troy, killed by the Achaeans.

But he wasn't ever the only one.

[prettyboykatsuki]

ari i came sprinting over when i saw u mention dad zhongli pls spare some thoughts <3

the girl at the altar (the man she prays to) | zhongli (morax)

✭ tags ; extremely dark content ahead, father/daughter blood incest, dead dove: do not eat, noncon -> dubcon, mild injury / blood (zhonglis claws cut readers thigh), the word r*pe is used in the text, also he tucks some hair behind readers ear but no mention of actual hair-type, manipulation, grief / loneliness, regret and mourning, oral (f!recieving), reader is so poor little meow-meow, 18+

✭ wc ; 3.4k (an astonishing number)

✭ a/n ; idk if i got my point across in this one </3 but i tried so i hope someone likes it at least fdjsdk. also sorry if zhongli is ooc he is techincally in his godhood here

also this is like. genshin adjacent. it's not canon but it takes after canon.

✭ synopsis ; you are indifferent to your father. he thinks you have the most beautiful eyes, even when they gaze at him impassively.

You've never met your father.

Haven't. The word would be hadn't, now. You hadn't met your father until you turned 18. And since he's calling you to his chambers, now, you figure that never isn't the right word anymore.

You hadn't met your father until you turned 18. And that's what you would expect from an Archon. They're fickle like that

That's what you've always believed. Perhaps you lack piety.

You're not his only heir. Not his only girl. You're his 7th daughter, but you're the only girl left alive. You live in the Western Hall and do all your own chores. Your mother died when you were 9. And you had never met your father.

All your food was brought to you by an old soldier you lovingly called papa.

Papa was the man you latched onto when you were young. He was mortal and kind - so much older than you. He died before you turned 18, and the only time you have so much as called for your father was asking for money to give him a burial.

Your papa was a mortal man. He had a bald head and all sorts of wrinkles and scars from fighting. His wife died in childbirth. And you loved him terribly, enough to expose yourself as living to a god who seems to have forgotten about you your whole life. He was a public official, but he brought you food and blankets during winter. Brought you sandals when you outgrew your old ones.

Neglect is not the worst fate of a daughter. There is always death so violent metal lingers in your mouth for weeks. There is always assault, always rape. Always worse fates for a daughter than neglect. And even though Papa couldn't raise you, he loved you enough to look after you when he could.

So, after he passed - for the first time in your 18 years of life, you requested the audience of your father.

He was unreadable. Divine. You didn't feel anger nor sadness in your heart. There had been an absence of anguish. To you, at that time, he was just a man and he just happened to sleep with your mother.

Looking back, you wish you would've cried. Would've wept blearily into the sleeves of silks, just so he would look at you with disinterest instead of intrigue.

Men are the same in that way. Perhaps it is ingrained in the God of Contracts to conqueror.

Your father had an aspect of impossibility to him. Something about him felt hungry. Often bitter, but never so much so to be displeasing.

Cold, despite the warm color of amber in his eyes.

("You've requested me for the first time," He says, pouring something into a long pipe "After living like a mouse for nearly 18 years. I'm curious. What brings you here?"

An undeniable intensity fills the room, but you do not waver. You lift your head and open your mouth.

"I want enough money to bury someone,"

He raises his brows.

"Who?"

Your expression changes. You can't contain yourself in this matter. You weep this time, wiping your eyes delicately.

"...My papa,")

After that came the rennovations.

Suddenly, the West Hall was full of life. There were maids and cooks and clothes. And the garden was green, and the fish pond was clean enough to be clear.

At that point, he did not visit. He sent one of his men, a Yaksha named Xiao, to look after you. Small but strong, and fierce but kind.

The whole palace buzzed with the noise of your name for weeks. You had visitors and guests - and suddenly found yourself brushing off etiquette you learned over 10 years ago. When the initial attention died down - there were gifts. Jewels. Silks. Tailors.

Of your siblings, only one of your brothers visited. The one who had visited you all the time even before catching your fathers eye. He merely bid you warning.

Do not be fooled. Do not be swayed.

So you weren't. You tried not to be. Your father was however persistent. The lack of correspondence brought him to you - and in spending time with you, it became so hard to ignore his leering eyes.

He looked at you like many men had before. But there was more to it than just desire, something to great for your comprehension

He didn't know how to act fatherly. Having a daughter is nothing like having a son after all. He could not spar with you, nor could he anger you to challenge.

("What an impassive face you make upon seeing me." He muses, tucking hair behind your ear. You don't feel disgust. You aren't sure what that is, lingering inside you.

"What face should I make?"

"Desperation. Longing for my affection. Sadness, or resentment."

You look at him honestly, a disinterest in your gaze that makes amusement swim in his eyes. He isn't cold, nor is he kind. He isn't disciplinary nor is he unreasonable.

Maybe it has something to do with being an Archon. Why your mortal heart cannot figure out the intricacies of his feelings. Though stories of war and bloodshed ring so loudly in your ear, you don't believe he will hurt you. He isn't that sort of man.

He is not mad, nor belligerent. You glance at him.

"To me, you are an Archon and nothing more."

He reaches for you, fingers outstretched as he runs his knuckle against your temple, thumb brushing your ear and pulling on your lobe. Only stopping to admire the jewels that he's given you. He hums.

"It's that part of you," He says, reaching for your hand - bringing your wrists to his mouth and placing a kiss on the vain "I find so endearing, my child." )

Your father wants to feel like your father. He wants you to long for him like a daughter does. You think that part of him is rather transparent.

His names became more affectionate. My child to my darling girl. Instead of you, it is your name - carefully wrapped up in linen. Instead of passive disinterest, it is amusement. It is flower, or dear, or princess with a lilt of affection.

Your father wants you to regard him as an Archon. As a man. This part of him is rather transparent. Because you know many men and how they look at you. You know he looks at you in such a ravenous way. But those eyes, and the ones that seem to regard you with fatherly fondness, are not so different.

You don't think he is a belligerent. A war-hero? Certainly. Able to spill blood and be forceful? Of course. Yet what you fear is not his tyranny.

He is ruthless. Ruthless in every pursuit. Ruthless in longing for you. Of all the things that make your stomach churn with unease, there is nothing quite like the look in your fathers eyes. Something so predatory and possessive that it crawls into your skin.

(The first time a letter came, from a son of a government official, to ask your hand in marriage - you only heard of it days after.

Not from him, but from the Yaksha who watches over you. He burned the thing in the fireplace and did not so much as blink. No one will have you but him. The message was already so clear, then)

Your father has summoned you, now to his chamber. The man you hadn't met until you turned 18, in the dead of night.

You do not run away, even when some part of you deep down screams. Your father is your father. Your blood. An archon. A vessel. Your father desires his daughter. You think there is no such thing so true.

That means both too much and too little to you. It means too much and too little to him, too.

You are cut from the same cloth.

The doors slide open for you once you've arrived at his chambers. He's sat directly on the floor, a robe with gold thread over his shoulders. There's a bandage over his stomach, over the side and under his arm and a look you can't decipher on his face.

He sounds more lax than you usual. And it leaves you with a sense of foreboding. You bow your head and offer the usual formalities. He chuckle's and lowers his voice.

"Come, child."

You furrow your brow, but you listen as you walk to him.

"Sit."

So you do. Too unsure to be anything other than obedient. You sit on your knees and your father stares at you. He leans forward and takes a deep breath, nose bumping against your shoulder. Heat rolls off of him in waves and he's never felt so much like a man to you. Your heartbeat quickens.

"You smell of flowers. Qingxin."

"The servants put them in the bath tonight."

"It suits you.'

You frown as he pulls away so slightly.

"Why have you called for me?"

"I wished to spend time with my only daughter," He says, not so much as stuttering in his words "Is that so wrong?"

Your frown deepens.

"What do you see in me that makes you so insistent?" You say, unsure if you are strong enough to keep the tremble out of your voice. It occurs to you now, and only now - how all these months have felt.

After papa died, it has been so much lonelier than ever. An aching left inside of you that you never tended too. You wonder if your father knew of it. If that's the reason he showered you in so much attention. A ruthless man like that, who wishes to have you.

You're sure that's something he's capable of. It makes you feel sick

Alone in this room with him, you can feel it more than ever. You are his daughter, so you are his.

And perhaps - a lifetimes worth of burden has befallen you all at once. Perhaps reality has settled on you now as the line gets more blurred. Your indifference towards him cannot outweigh your grief.

But from him especially. In a lapse of judgement, you ask "Why me?"

And your Father responds with laugh. With a troublesome self-assurance.

"You're unlike girls your age. Resilient. Not delicate at all. You grew up to be a fine young woman without any interference from me. The first I'd ever seen you make so much as an expression, it was over your beloved Papa," He says, thinking it over. He places a hand on your neck - thumb against your throat like he's searching for your pulse "So I'm curious, yet angered. What man has taken your affection from me? What can I do to receive it again."

His anger is so residual it sticks to your limbs. If your papa hadn't died before, he would've been dead by now. Uncertainty feels like swallowing a sword.

"Why didn't you tell me someone asked for my hand?"

"A young, royal girl like you cannot just marry any suitor. He wasn't worthy of your time."

The words leave your mouth before you are able to swallow them "And you are?"

This time he smiles at you. And he closes in and you feel disgust and anxiety - but that's not it. Not all. Because there is some vague anticipation for affection. It's all so wrong. A life time of such misfortune. You do not think he's a man with good will, but your mind seems to wander often. About the affection he's shown you when you were so swallowed in darkness. It makes it frightening. Makes your desire indistinguishable from your resentment.

He cups your cheek in the palm of his hand. You can feel how strong he is and your breath hitches. Your eyes grow watery, and you find yourself crying.

"What a pleasant face you make when you cry, my dear," He says, so softly it aches as his thumb rubs underneath your eyes "You grew to be so beautiful."

"I am your daughter, am I not?"

"Of course you are," He replies easily, eyes lidded and low "That is precisely why you are mine."

You swallow a sob into the back of your throat as he moves towards you. Just a little closer, a little more. His hair is untied, and it flows down his back in rolling waves. You look so much like your mother. There's nothing of him in you, not really.

Except that you are his, somehow. Even you know that.

"Look at how you weep," He says, tenderly. A hint of condescension "Do you wish for my pragmatism or my adoration? Don't be fickle."

"Why have you called me here?"

"I missed you," He says simply, pressing a kiss to your cheek so gently it almost feels like you're nothing more than this "I thought to call on you. That's all. Should I comfort you?"

You know what's coming when he asks you this. Your whole body does, a flood of heat in your skin as the Archon of Liyue leans in to press his lips to yours. He kisses like a married man, you think. His lips taste faintly of alcohol. There is a steadiness to all of it, an assuredness to his actions prevents you from wavering. He is your father and he is kissing you like a married man. But you are no mistress. You are just his, and his alone.

And every feeling and emotion twisted up so terribly inside you is burst. You push him but the gestures is weak. A longing for his comfort, and a hatred for his absence. The difference between this two things is minimal and unclear.

Your hands eventually fall to your sides and when you no longer protest - he pulls away from you with a smile. You think he's enjoying himself, nose nudged against your temple as he presses a kiss to you.

"Come."

He pulls you into his lap and your silks slip off your body. He undoes the belt arond your middle and everything comes loose. The sheer of your undergarments leaves you exposed more than you've ever been, bare shoulders in soft light overhead. You turn away from him but you cannot go far. His arm is underneath you in a second. He parts your legs where you have them, feet flat on the floor underneath you.

You are so bare. You've never let anyone see you like this, not even the boys who you used to sneak around and kiss when you were younger. Only your Father, the Archon above his people, has ever laid his eyes upon your bare skin.

You rest in the crook of his elbow, tuck against his chest. You can feel the strength of his leg behind you as you lay into him - face close to his chin and neck. Like a baby being rocked.

He's careful as he pulls the material off further. Your nipples are hard from the exposed air, and visible. He uses a free hand to squeeze the fat of your breasts in his palms.

The gesture leaves you gasping in shame, to which he only laughs.

"Boys must be falling at your feet."

"Aah, hn - there's n-no boys like that."

He twists your nipple lightly between his fingers, a faint scratch from his claws that makes you hiss.

"A father should be there for his daughters firsts, then."

He ducks his head to take them into his mouth and the stimulation is too much. A shame washes over you, melancholy that makes your heart feel like it's at risk of ripping. It feels good. And he is delicate, so kind that you hate it. It doesn't feel as if he is forcing you.

At least it is lacking in violence. Lacking in the sort of bloodshed a man like him knows well. It is tender.

It is an act of love. In some sick, twisted, vile way. It feels like an act of love and you have been so deprived of such a thing. You cannot outrun your grief. Your need is not absent from you.

So when he licks at you so gently, you let yourself be comforted by the gesture. He puts a free hand on your stomach as he does so, reaching lower and lower until his fingers are at the seam of your panties.

"If a boy tries to take you to bed, he should do this much," He tells you, middle fingers pressing into the slick soaked silk against your cunt. He touches your clit carefully "Women are delicate. They break easily if you don't prepare them thorough."

He shifts then. Moves away from you and grabs a pillow - handing it to you. You blink at him blearily.

"Lay and make yourself comfortable. I will hurt you otherwise."

You listen and your father follows suit. It's too much, too suddenly. To see him between your legs like that - your calf resting over his broad shoulders. It makes you let out a miserable gasp. Shame so overwhelming it almost swallows you whole.

There is something so wrong. Something abominable - a bone-deep knowing of how warped love has become. No matter how many times you try to deny it to yourself - the man between your legs feels as if you belong to him. In knowing you are his blood he is able to touch you this way.

It is so divine, in a way. An archon and their heir. A father and his daughter. What are you if not the manifestation of his whims? Of course he's angry you've grown out of his sight - to be something else.

He spreads your legs and peers at you with a sense of satisfication.

"Are you untouched?"

You want to cry. You want to shove him away. You whisper, below your breath "Of course I am,"

"Good," He leans, kisses your clit so tenderly you almost forget. But you can't. Not quite "No man should ever enter here but me."

He takes his time to look. Pushes back the trimmed hairs on your mound with a fond glow. A possession in his gaze as he peers at you. The words tick in your head over and over. You belong to him. Like it couldn't be clearer. Again and again, you think this.

"How gorgeous you are," He says, leaning his head. He kisses the hood of your clit and you cry.

"It's dirty." You say, unable to say much more. And he laughs at you, like a father might. That sense of knowing, the distance of life between you. He sticks his tongue out and the act shoots a bolt of heat through your spine. It's long. Not like yours, not at all.

"Nothing about you is dirty to me," He says easily, letting his tongue and teeth feel around your thighs as you gaps "How could anything about you be dirty?"

You don't think you're meant to find comfort in that but you do. And you watch as he settles him, his nose nudge against the hood of your clit. You can feel the wetness pool underneath you and you are so ashamed. His hands grip your legs tight - claws leaving red indentations. The faintest pricks of blood drip down and stain everything red.

But your father pays it no mind. He's only really focused on you. There's intensity in his eyes, the soft wet heat of his mouth against your sex. His tongue slides against your aching clit, building a steady pace until you can feel something strange in your stomach. Like everything inside of you is coiling slowly. It's a strange, heady sort of feeling.

It makes you feel out of control. And you're not in control of your body or yourself. Only him. Only your father there to soothe his little girl. You open your mouth in a warning - softly pleading for something you don't understand.

"S-something. Hngh, something weird. Feels like I'm gonna pee."

Upon hearing your words, he doesn't still. He keeps pace and hums. It feels like you're rushing headfirst into something - at a speed so intense you can't get your hands on the railing. You grab at his hair because it's the first thing you can think of.

A breathy laugh leaves his lips as you garble something so unintelligible. You feel like nothing makes sense anymore. If someone asked you to distinguish night from day - it'd be pointless. All you can do is hold. Is listen to your fathers words obediently and diligently. Like how daughters so often do.

"That's it. Just like that." He whispers as you convulse, continuing to touch you until you practically have to pry him. A feeling of dread follows the sensation of pleasure so overwhelming.

When you look down, your father is busy licking his lips. He looks bemused by you. Hot tears roll down your cheeks as you lie there.

He reaches for your face once more, leaning forward to kiss you a little more forcefully than last time.

"I'll teach you slowly. Our own special father-daughter time. That will be nice, won't it? So don't fret. And don't run," He draws his thumb along the light lesions on your upper thigh and hips, blood covered digit touching his tongue "We certainly have much to catch up on."

You hadn't met your father until you turned 18.

You wish you never had.

[mbakuetshurisprincess]

The Garden

AN: Okay wow did not expect to have this many people like the sneak peek of this fic so THANK YOU! I’ve had this account since 2018 so to anyone whose been here since then, I commend you, my writing was pretty bad back then LMAO! This is literally the longest fic I’ve ever written so that's cool. I super enjoyed this Shuri and would love to write more versions of her in the future. If you have any requests, my asks are on. If not just dm me fr fr, i love inspo. Player!Shuri may or may not be in the works, so yeah. And in all honesty I don’t know what the timing of this one is within the MCU.

Summary: Princess Shuri requests your company on a trip to “The Garden”, a secret area the two of you created as teens. 

Pairing: Shuri x Reader

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of drug use (weed), kissing.

Word count: 3,635

Suggested listening: Nothing Even Matters by Lauren Hill ft. D'Angelo 

The soft buzzing of your kimoyo beads stirred you out of the deep sleep you were in. When the buzzing didn’t wake you immediately, the sensation was turned up and the vibration shook your wrist. You knew there was only one person who could engineer your kimoyo beads to function like that: Shuri.

Knowing that she wouldn’t stop her assault on your wrist, you sat up in bed and answered her call. 

“Oh Y/N, good you’re finally awake!” Shuri stated with a slick smile as her holographic body shot up from the beads. 

“When did you even have time to do that, Shuri? I’m with you always and you make sure I never take this off.” You mused as you rubbed some sleep out of your eyes. 

“That’s not for you to worry about!” She flashed that smile at you again and you felt the familiar tug at your heart. 

You loved her smile. It was one of your favorite things about her, and she knew it. Whenever she needed something from you like a model to test out new adaptations for the Dora Milaje’s gear or begging you to spend the night with her even though your room was less than 10 steps from hers. She would flash that smile and instantly get whatever she wanted from you.  

She caught wind of the way you were looking at her and sent a wink your way. “Since you're awake, may I come in?” 

“I don’t know why you insist on asking, especially when you know I never say no.” You said through a yawn. You got up out of bed and walked over to the door peeking through the wall that led to Shuri’s room. 

The two of you had lived like this since you were young teens. Your mother served as Queen Ramonda’s personal guard, hand-picked by King T’Chaka until her accidental death during a routine training drill that you unfortunately witnessed. Your father, grief-struck, took his own life and it left you without anyone else in the world.

 Queen Ramonda decided that for your mental health it was best to maintain as much of the reality that you knew and so at 16, you moved in with the royal family. Getting a bedroom built right next to Shuri’s that connected via a doorway. It worked out because you and Princess Shuri were already close friends; having spent childhood running around the palace walls and pestering the cooks for sweets. And spent most of adolescence obsessing over American culture and new trends together.  

You and T’Challa quickly formed a sibling dynamic similar to the one he had with Shuri and he felt just as protective of you as he did of her. Your dynamic with Shuri, that was different. As young girls you both valued and enjoyed each other's company, it was often regarded that if you saw one of you, the other had to be close behind. 

It wasn’t until you moved in, that the nightmares started. Reliving the memory of your mother's death every night in your dreams left you screaming in your sleep, loud enough for even Queen Mother to hear it from her chambers. But before she could get there, she always found Shuri comforting you. She could still remember the first time she found the two of you like that. 

Shuri was sitting on the edge of your bed calmly speaking to you as she stroked your cheek gently. “It’s me Y/N, it's Shuri. You’re okay, you’re safe, I’m here.” The two of you couldn’t have been but 17 and 16. 

When you awoke and tears sprung from your eyes, Shuri just pulled you into her and soothed you as she gently rubbed your back. When Queen Mother returned to her chambers she awoke her husband and told him that there was no need to worry about who Shuri would end up with and that Bast had been kind and blessed them with two daughters. 

Now at 21 and 20, the Queen's words seemed to ring ever true. While neither of you claimed to be in a relationship, everyone in the palace (and in all of Wakanda for that matter) knew that it was more than platonic love shared between you two. Shuri had never courted anyone and neither had you, and nobody ever questioned it. You knew many people lusted after Princess Shuri but you never questioned where her loyalties lay. You were the one who was with her when she learned of her father's death and you supported her throughout the entire mourning process as you both grieved. You were each other's person no doubt about it. 

Shuri hung up the call and walked into your bedroom, flopping right onto your bed. You chuckled as she snuggled deep within your covers, it was normal for her to do that, and expected that you would join her.

You scrolled through the notifications on your kimoyo beads much to Shuri’s dismay as you heard her kiss her teeth. One of her signals that she wasn’t getting the attention from you that she wanted. 

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” You murmured as you walked towards your bed and sat down on the edge. Your tiny brown sleep shorts and matching cami shirt gave Shuri the perfect view of your back. She admired the two dimples in your back that sat just above your ass and the way that your curves fit your body just right. Her eyes trailed up your back, and your curly hair was pulled up into a pineapple for maximum convenience while you slept, giving Shuri a view of your neck. She couldn’t stand you being so close to her and not touching so she wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you back into her. 

You took the hint, got under the covers, and finally laid on your back staring straight up at the ceiling. Shuri’s hand snaked down to find yours and interlaced your fingers in hers. Bringing them to her mouth so she could kiss your hand. 

“So, what did you have planned for today, my princess?” You asked with a light giggle as she peppered kisses all over your hand. 

“I was thinking,” She said once she had finished “That we go over to the garden and spend the day there today.” She turned to face you anticipating your response. 

You turned your head to face her and shot her a “Are you crazy?” look. 

The garden was a secret project you, but mostly Shuri had started when you were in your final years of school. After watching the Young and Wild and Free music video, the two of you decided it couldn’t be that hard to grow your own weed here in Wakanda. You tested it all inside of a small house that had once belonged to the gardener but had been long abandoned. It only took a few months and the two of you had grown enough to harvest and test. 

And test you did!

Being both of your first times the effects were immediate and apparent, but both of you enjoyed the mood it put you in. Shuri enjoyed how it allowed you to open up to her and her the same to you, many of your most vulnerable conversations were held in the garden. For a year the two of you spent damn near every weekend sneaking off into the garden to light up and talk before going on a movie marathon. 

Years later and the tradition had faded. You knew Shuri still maintained the garden and used it occasionally but you only went out there when Shuri dragged you out. The last time was over a month ago and it ended with the two of you being questioned for a long time by T’Challa, insisting that of course, you two were not high. The conversation ended with T’Challa saying that the two of you were terrible liars, which only led to a giggle fit ensuing. 

“Do you not remember the last time?” You demanded with a roll of your eyes “What if we get caught by Queen Mother this time?” 

Shuri laughed “We are grown! Mother can only say so much, we are our own people sthandwa!” 

You let out a groan in response, she knew how much you loved when she called you that. 

“Come on, you know you want to come to hang out and relax with me. Do it for your princess.” She commanded with her same trademark smile. 

“Fine! But Shuri, I’m not helping you roll anything! You have to do all the work since you want it so badly.” You retorted as you stood up from the bed. You walked over to your closet and looked for something to wear. 

“I don’t even know why you would say that, you never roll anyway.” Shuri spoke quietly to herself with a small laugh.

“What did you say?” You called from inside the closet.

“Nothing sthandwa! Get dressed!” She called back with a smirk.

You decided on one of Shuri’s oversized hoodies (that fit you more like a normal hoodie) with a black skin-tight shirt, a pair of black leggings, and a small cross-body bag that held your film camera to wear. So the two of you started your walk down the back palace steps towards the garden. As you walked you admired Shuri’s outfit. She had recently become a fan of American tracksuits so today she wore gray sweatpants with a matching gray zip-up jacket. Under the jacket, she wore a form-fitting t-shirt that accentuated her slender slightly muscular figure. Her short curly hair was styled up as normal and you admired how this new haircut suited her face so well. 

She looked edible. 

As you two approached the small garden house, Shuri broke the comfortable silence that had developed. 

“I’ve made some new improvements to our little getaway, I hope you like them sthandwa.” Shuri held open the door for you and you walked in. 

Where once the walls were lined with movie posters and American logos from companies like Pringles, KFC, and Budweiser; they’re now covered with album sleeves from the two of your favorite records. Covers from Stevie Wonder, Lauryn Hill, and Gregory Porter all the way to recent favorites like Noname, Mavi, and Frank Ocean. You walked deeper into the room and noticed where bean bags and a couch that had seen better days once sat, a new couch (big enough to be mistaken for a bed) and a hammock installed into the ceiling now resided. 

You had regarded on your last trip that the place had started to remind you of your joined teen years and Shuri being the girl she was decided that meant it was time for a rebrand.

“Shuriiii!!!!” You gushed “This is too much! When did you have the time to do all of this!?” You ran into her open arms and squeezed her tightly. Shuri smiled and wrapped her arms around you.

You pulled your head off her chest to look up at her as she spoke. “I wanted it to be a space for us again and we don’t have to just smoke here either. I moved all of the plants downstairs and created a new filtration system so it will never smell like smoke and-”

You cut her off by placing a kiss on her lips. She moved her hands to cup your face trying to deepen the kiss. She loved the taste of your lips, the way they parted to let hers in, the way your tongue always battled with hers for dominance knowing it was never a battle you were going to win. 

You pulled away from the kiss, a deep red color staining your chocolate skin, she made you blush every time she kissed you and it made her proud to see how breathless she left you. 

“Thank you Shuri, I really mean it.”

“You kiss me like that again, we’re not going to leave here for days.” Shuri mused as she quickly swiped her thumb across your plump bottom lip. Your deep brown eyes caught hers and her gaze held you there like that as she looked down upon you with enamored eyes.

 You pulled your bottom lip into your mouth and bit it lightly. You hated the way Shuri could get you like this so easily. With just a few words or a persistent look, you turned to putty in her hands. Shuri however adored you like this, the way you were so drunk on lust that you listened to every word she said and followed her directions with little pushback. 

You tried to turn away and break eye contact but Shuri caught your chin before you could move. She placed a delicate kiss on your lips before speaking.

“Go sit on the couch, make yourself at home. I’m going to get everything ready, you can connect to the speakers via bluetooth; the name is Y/N.” She let go of your face and left you standing there speechless as she started rummaging through drawers looking for the materials she needed. 

“Damn you Shuri.” You thought as you walked over to the square-shaped couch, pulled off your bag, took out your camera, and plopped down making yourself comfortable. You pulled up the bluetooth settings and clicked connect on the one named after you. You kicked your slippers off and tucked your feet underneath you as you figured out what album to pick. You settled instead on the “To Y/N, with love” playlist, the playlist she had made for you years ago that still received monthly updates. 

Shuri chuckled as the sounds of Nothing Even Matters by Lauryn Hill rang out through the speakers. She knew how much you loved music when she made you the playlist but hadn’t anticipated how much you would listen to the playlist. When you first noticed she had updated it, you nearly fell out; loving all the new music she added. 

“You’re still listening to this old thing?” Shuri asked as she plopped down next to you, she held in her hands a rolling tray, a lighter, and two mason jars filled with herbs and weed respectively, a joint tucked between her lips. 

You just hummed along to the words and smiled as you sang to her. 

“Now the skies could fall. Not even if my boss should call. The world it seems so very small-” 

She finished the line for you. 

“Cause nothing even matters, at all. See nothing even matters.”

She took the joint from between her lips and handed it to you. You took it and after examining it for a second you placed it between your lips. Shuri leaned over into your personal space and sparked the lighter bringing it up to the joint and lighting it. You gazed at Shuri through the fire and felt a similar feeling inside of your gut as the two of you made eye contact. You pulled in deeply, allowing the smoke that was invading your mouth to travel directly to your lungs. Shuri pulled the lighter away when she was sure the joint would stay lit but didn’t break eye contact. You couldn’t handle the way she was looking at you, desire plain across her face so you pulled away as you removed the joint from your mouth, turned your head away, and exhaled. Releasing all the smoke in your lungs.

This caused Shuri to smirk, you were always so innocent, she could read you like a book. The way your thighs squeezed together when she held her hand on them for too long or the way you could never hold eye contact. She knew what she did to you and was fully planning to keep it up. 

Shuri pulled a paper out of the pack she had and started opening the mason jars that contained her herbs. A comfortable silence had developed between the two of you, as you hit the joint and you both hummed along to Montego Bae by Noname. Shuri was the first to break the silence. 

“One of your children asked me when me and you were going to be “princesses together?” when I stopped down to visit yesterday.” 

You looked over at Shuri and let out a large laugh “What?” 

You knew generally what Shuri was referring to; the orphanage that you volunteered in part-time was located just outside of the palace walls. Queen Mother thought it best for you to have something to occupy your time since Shuri spent large chunks of time in her lab and time away from each other was the key to a healthy relationship. The idea to work in the orphanage came to you after you spent the afternoon with the children, taking photos for the local newspaper. You came that first day and had never left; it made you feel good to help the children, knowing Queen Mother was the only reason you didn’t end up there. 

“Mhm.” Shuri nodded, you noticed her hands that were beginning the careful process of rolling. This part always made you admire Shuri, her attention to detail and meticulous technique was a work of art. She looked so beautiful concentrating like that, you reached into your bag, grabbed your camera, and snapped a photo of her.

“It was Adah wasn't it?” You asked with a chuckle as you tucked your camera next to you. 

While Shuri didn’t visit the orphanage with you frequently, whenever she did the first person to greet her was Adah. When Shuri wasn’t there Adah normally clung to your side during your daily work and generally kept quiet; preferring to see how the other kids played than actually playing herself. But when Shuri turned up, another side of Adah came out and she shed her shy exterior. Running around, dragging Shuri to and from activities and crafts, determined to show the princess a good time. 

The whole of Wakanda was aware of your special relationship with Shuri, the children included. The difference between the two was that children didn’t have the social politeness to know not to ask about when the two of you were going to make it official, official. 

Shuri just nodded as she brought her tongue to the paper, swiping it across to dampen the paper. She knew your eyes were following her tongue but let you slide this time without a sly remark. She finished rolling the joint and placed it on the coffee table. 

You took another hit, feeling the effects of this new strain throughout your whole body before passing it to Shuri  

“I keep telling them they can’t just ask when someone’s getting married.” You said with a playful kiss of your teeth. 

Shuri took a deep pull of the joint and looked over at you. “I told her that we would be married within the next three years.”

“You said WHAT?” You shot up straight off of the couch and stood in front of Shuri. “You told my Adah we were to be married within the next three WHAT?”

Shuri simply laughed and took another hit of the joint. “I don’t see a problem with what I said sthandwa. We will be married within the next three years, no?” 

“Have the chemicals that you deal with in the lab finally knocked something lose up there??” You playfully tapped on the side of her forehead with your fingers. 

“Aht-” Shuri swatted your hand away with her free hand, and she took another hit. “I don’t get what's so wrong with what I said, we will be married within the next three years and have kids within the next five years. What's so insane about what I said?” 

“Oh, you’ve lost your GODDAMN MIND Shuri Udaku!” You threw your hands up in disbelief and turned to walk away from Shuri. 

“She must have lost it!” You thought to yourself. “Before she asks me to be her girlfriend she declares me her wife?” Truthfully you didn’t have a problem with marrying Shuri, that wasn’t the problem. But to have her declare so matter of factly without consulting you, that gave you a little bit of irritation. 

Shuri used the opportunity of your back turning slightly to her as you walked away to grab one of your arms, pulling you closer and forcing you off balance. She used her newfound leverage to pull you into her lap, putting you face to face with her. Her free hand found its way to the top of your thigh and she rubbed lightly sending butterflies throughout your body. You were used to being in this position, it was one of Shuri’s favorites. She said it gave her a perfect view of your beautiful face while still satisfying her need for physical touch.

“Do you not want to be my wife sthandwa?” Shuri asked in a sultry voice, bringing the end of the joint to your lips allowing you to take the last hit. 

You turned your head away from her to not release the smoke into her face, but even once you finished you kept your eyes from hers. It was all too much right now,  the weed, the way Shuri switched her tone of voice and her hand that was gently rubbing the top of your thigh. Too much to be able to focus on this conversation right now.  

Shuri placed the finished joint on the coffee table and grabbed your chin with her first three fingers, allowing her thumb to rest on your cheek and stroke it gently. 

“Look at me.”

You obliged her request and made eye contact with the princess, her brown eyes were low and addicting to stare at. 

“Be my wife Y/N.” 

[cosmicjoke]

Something else I noticed in "Bad Boy", that I think is important to point out, is what Levi says about Kenny, and what the men attacking him say, too, and what it tells us about the general atmosphere and behavior of the people that Levi was surrounded by growing up.

He tells the man in the glasses, after he asks Levi "You don't want to do that, do you?", meaning to make his mother cry over him killing people, that he doesn't know, but that "Kenny won't let you live.".

We also hear the man that's beating Levi make the excuse that they can't let Levi go because then their reputations as gangsters Underground will be shot. That's clear bullshit. It's just an excuse he's using for his own sadism, the clear pleasure he's taking in assaulting a ten year old boy.

But with what Levi says about Kenny, and what this man says, it tells us just how ruthless the people were, that Levi grew up around.

Clearly, Levi was never given any kind of example or role model of mercy or merciful behavior.

Kenny was a prolific and remorseless killer, someone who took life easily and often, and clearly these men were the same, in that they felt no qualms whatsoever about the prospect of murdering a child and then cutting him into pieces and feeding him to pigs, something they make clear reference to having done before.

Levi telling the man in the glasses that "Kenny won't let you live.", after the man begs pathetically for his life, tells us that Kenny certainly killed in front of Levi, and that Levi had probably witnessed him doing so after whoever he'd killed had also begged for their life. Levi didn't expect Kenny to show mercy or compassion, because Kenny wasn't the sort of person who would do that. After all, we see Kenny kill numerous, innocent people in "AoT", including nearly killing Historia when she was a young girl.

Levi was taught to be ruthless, both by Kenny and by the environment and inhabitants of the Underground, by the general desperation of how and where he grew up.

Again, I think this is important to note because of the remarkable compassionwe see in Levi himself.

Yes, Levi is ruthless toward his enemies. He'll kill without hesitation if he thinks someone is a threat to his or others well being. But Levi isn't a ruthless person. He doesn't kill without good cause, and he doesn't kill out of any sense of enjoyment or self-satisfaction. He kills if he thinks he has to, and that's it. He doesn't see killing as a good thing. Just a necessary thing. Indeed, Levi is truly the opposite of ruthless, as again I remark upon his compassion and his great kindness, something we see from him again and again throughout the series. He always does his best to comfort and protect others. I think a good contrast is between how Levi treats Ramzi vs how Kenny treated Historia, and how these men treated Levi himself.

Nobody taught that compassion or kindness to Levi. Certainly not Kenny, and certainly not the Underground as a whole. And I think Levi's memories of his mother were too vague and fleeting to have learned anything from her, in truth. That fleeting image of kindness from his mother wouldn't have been enough to overcome the years of cruelty, abuse and violence he was subjected to afterward unless Levi himself was already predisposed to being kind. That he clings to and appreciates the single, vague memory of his mother at all is testament to his innate goodness. Most people would have forgotten it completely in the flood of misery that was the rest of his life.

[boogiewrites]

Repentance

Eddie Munson x f!reader (no use of y/n) - best friends to enemies to lovers

She was a hot, cheerleading, mean popular girl. He was a rebellious, guitar-shredding "freak" boy. Could I make it any more obvious?

Reader gave up her former life to become popular but it turns out it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. By her senior year, she’s grown weary of being someone she’s not and stands up for herself one too many times before the cutthroat members of Hawkins royalty decide to ruin her reputation. With no one left who knows the real her, she’s left to reach out to her former best friend, Eddie Munson. We follow her and Eddie through key moments in their best friends to enemies to lovers' journey ending with a reconciliation that shows her what kind of love she's been missing out on.

Contains: Sex: P in V, fingering, oral sex (m receiving). Use of "good girl".

CW Continued: Insinuation of sexual assault. Mentions of abuse by grabbing/shoving and leaving bruises. Emotional manipulation. Bullying. Mention of a gay slur painted on Eddie’s locker. Telling of bad memories related to sex. Canon insults and arguments. Drinking, smoking, partying. Hurt/Comfort. Confessions. Everyone is of age by the time anything sexual happens. Mentions of underage Eddie being attracted to the underage reader but nothing sexual happens. Use of the word slut as an insult.

“One day I’m gonna be the prettiest, most popular girl in school, you’ll see!” you shouted proudly, full of optimism at the age of 12 to your best friend.

“Uh-huh, sure.” he nodded, rolling his eyes with a crooked smile.

“I am!”

“People like us don’t get popular.” he sighed, the defeat of 2 more years of life experience, a teenager in middle school who was getting even more life lessons than those he’d already learned the hard way at a young age.

“Well…” you pouted your lips and sunk back in thought. “Can I still be the prettiest?” you perked up with newfound hope.

“Sure.” he chuckled to himself. “You can be the prettiest.”

Now, 6 years later you’d achieved that bold goal. But you hadn’t… couldn’t have known what it was going to cost you. The biggest hurt and the first was losing your best friend. The very same boy that had told you you could do it (at least half of it anyway) In hindsight, you wish you’d listened.

The summer you were 13, one to live in infamy where puberty hit you like an 18-wheeler and suddenly you’d gone from awkward kid to a woman. You weren’t even the first to notice. It was the male attention that told you you were no longer decent in your second-hand children's clothes. You laughed awkwardly at first when the grown men said sly things about you growing up. But then boys your age started saying things. And that didn’t feel as nerve-wracking or gross. You’d never had attention like this before from guys. Suddenly they said soft, sweet words to you in private, promising you things if you cooperated. You saw your chance to become that idealized version of yourself. And you grabbed it by the horns.

“I said I’m going to Skull Rock with Jason.” you repeated, your then still, soon to be no longer best friend gawked with a slack face at your words repeated a second time.

“I heard you the first time.” he gritted out between clenched teeth.

“Aren’t you going to say anything? You’re just…sitting there glaring at me.”

“Oh, there’s PLENTY I want to say. But I don’t know if I should.” he sat back and crossed his arms, looking away and shaking his head.

“I’d rather you talk than stare at me with your mouth open like a frog.” you grumped, crossing your arms to mimic the defensiveness you felt. You knew he’d have something to say about it. He always did. He’d been bitching about how much time you were spending with the “wrong” people all summer. He was feeling left behind and hurt. Abandonment issues are a-plenty being triggered. Confusing growing feelings for you he tried to ignore as you flaunted your new body and attitude. He was only a 15-year-old boy with uncontrollable hormones, after all, things were bound to get ugly one way or another.

“Fine.” he slapped his hands to his thighs and shot up to his feet, hormone-fueled anger making his face red. “It’s a bad idea. It’s stupid.” he chopped his hands together to drive his point home. He moved across the room to talk directly to your shocked face. “I’m only saying this because I care about you… but this isn’t going to end well.” he put his hands on your shoulders. “You’re going to get used and then thrown away and you’re gonna come crying back to me to pick up the pieces and I’ll be here to tell you I fucking told you so. These are not good people. They’re selfish and greedy and overall just assholes! I’d say I don’t get why you want to hang out with them, but I do, unfortunately. The shiny promise of power and popularity is being dangled right in front of you and you want it so bad you’re willing to do anything for it. I know you. I know why you’re doing it. And I know that it’s going to end badly. You’re going to get your heart broken, or worse because these guys they…” he took a deep breath and rubbed his face. “They do things to girls. They think you owe them something. Do you get what I’m saying? And you’re a new shiny toy and then when something else comes along, shiny and new just like you are now, they’re gonna throw you away and forget you ever existed.” he stopped with a heaving chest, hands to his sides exasperated. His curls bounce as his chest rose and fell, starting to grow past his ears now, part of his effort to cultivate a hard persona to ward himself against the people he was trying to warn you about.

“They have been nothing but nice to me! They compliment me all the time, they give me things! They listen to me when I talk. I don’t get why you’re being so negative.” you pushed back with a snaking neck.

“You’re so naive.” he groaned and ran a hand through his hair.

“I am not!” you shouted back with balled fists.

“You’re young, sweetheart. You haven’t been around these guys like I have. I’m in high school, I see the shit they do. They’re terrible. I don’t tell you because I didn’t want you to be scared to go into high school.”

“You’re jealous aren’t you?” you hissed smugly and his face grew red again.

“Jealous?” his armor of crossed arms appeared again, back straighten in full defense mode.

“Yeah! Are you mad because you want to go to Skull Rock with me?”

“I have BEEN to Skull Rock with you before! God! I’m not jealous!” His voice cracked and broke from puberty and the strain of stress. “I’m telling you this because I’m your friend and I care about you okay? People, who only tell you what you want to hear? Those are the liars and they only want something from you. People who are willing to tell you what you don’t want to hear? Those are your real friends. Not those people.” He pointed with a shakey arm to back up his words.

“So now anyone nice is a liar? All the compliments they’ve said are lies? That sounds like you’re being a jerk!”

“You’re twisting my words! Ugh!”

“That’s what you said!” You squeak back with a stomped foot.

“Shut up and listen to what I’m saying and take it in for a goddamn minute instead of trying to fight me for no reason!” He shouted.

“I’m not! You’re being mean for no reason!”

“I’m NOT being mean I’m being a good friend and you aren’t listening to me because you don’t want your bubble burst about these assholes. But that’s what they are!”

“So what if they are? Maybe they’re nice to me because I’m nice.”

“They’re being nice because you got tits!” He finally screamed. “They want to fuck you! That’s WHY they’re nice. They don’t give a shit about you!”

You stood gawking and red-faced. Hurt, flustered, and defensive at his bold claims.

“They do care.” Your bottom lip blubbered as he rubbed his face hard letting out a feral groan.

“They don’t, hun. That’s what I’m saying.” He exhaled noisily.

“But…“ you gulped. “They asked me to hang out with their friends. They want me to be a part of their group. I could be popular Eddie!”

“I don’t know why you’d want to. Those people are evil.”

“They’re not evil. You’re so dramatic. I think you’re jealous I’m getting in with the popular kids and you’re still a loser.” It came out before you had the chance to stop it. You even clamped your hands over your mouth as if you might be able to take it back.

Eddie stood shocked. Still. His brows creased and lids fluttered under his frizzy bangs.

“There it is.” He nodded and sucked his teeth. “You’re already one of them.” He turned and plopped down on the couch. “The truth always comes out somehow.” He flopped his arms, now exhausted.

“I didn’t mean-“

“No, you did.” He nodded fast and glared your way. “I see where you stand now. Go get chewed up and spit out by them. Don’t come running crying to me and my loser ass when it happens.”

“Eddie I-“

“Get out.” He pointed at the door with a stone face. “You’ve already made your choice. It’s them.”

He’d always been wise beyond his years when it came to understanding people. You should’ve listened.

You were well into your quest of being the queen bee now. You were composed, and a stone-cold bitch. And as much as Eddie hated to admit it, you were also drop-dead gorgeous. At almost 15 you looked confident and much older in the way you dressed and carried yourself. It was all intentional. You looked like you walked off a sitcom set of any popular show, always trendy and groomed to an impossibly high standard. You looked like a movie star he thought as he watched you get out of the car dropping you off. Eddie was sitting on his porch, it was a hot summer night and he couldn’t sleep. He plucked away at the guitar in his lap as he watched you wave and stand poised until the car was well out of sight. Then it was eerie as if you morphed into someone else. You dug through your purse and groaned. Your attention snapped to him as his lighter lit up the darkness around him.

“Eddie?” You asked, still graceful across gravel even in heels.

“Who’s askin’?” That was his smart-ass reply.

“It is you!” He visually recoiled at the perky response. You giggled and shuffled across the grass around his wooden patio. You stood smiling, looking him over.

“It’s me.” He waved a hand to break your stare.

“Could I bum one of those?”

“You smoke?”

“Only when I’m alone. Have to handle the stress somehow!” You laughed but seemed too sad for him to share in.

“You shouldn’t, it’s a bad habit.” He muttered with the cigarette between his lips.

“But you're doing it ya goob.” You laughed and slapped his arm. He was so confused. You hadn’t spoken to him in what felt like decades. You’d ignored him, insulted him, and stood back as others ostracized him. You were enemies. Right?

“I know.” He handed you the cylinder. You took it from him and perched it between your painted lips then pat your body as if you might find a lighter.

“You mind?” You scoot closer. He sighed and handed you his lighter, a lackluster extended palm so you’d have to work for it but to his surprise you leaned forward, putting the tip of yours to his and sucking in. He wondered where the hell you learned that. He’s hit with an unwanted sadness that he no longer knew everything about you. “Thanks, babe.” You grinned and stood with a popped-out hip.

“Babe?” He snorted in amusement.

“I call people babe when they’re babes.” You say as if it’s the most casual observation.

“You’re calling me a babe?”

“I call them like I see them, Eddie.” You winked and giggled, fearlessly waking up the steps to sit next to him. Your bare thigh against his cut-off shorts.

“Are you okay? Ohhh you’re drunk aren’t you?” A standard assumption.

“I am not drunk actually!” You laughed. “I was earlier but then I got some stuff from Chris.”

“Stuff?”

“Pills.” You nodded enthusiastically. “And let me tell you. This is some gooood shit. You should sell it, you'd make a killing.”

“You take pills now?”

“I do a lot of things now that I didn’t before Eddie.” You smirk and give him the up and down and he quickly turned his head away to hide his blush.

“What kind of pills were they?”

“I don’t even know. I just wanted to not be so fuckin’ sad on my birthday.” The words don’t only hurt Eddie to hear. He didn’t know why you were being so honest.

“You take random pills? That’s not safe.”

“He got them from his friend. They’re like psych drugs. Some letters or something. She got them when she was in the looney bin. But she’s so fucking cool. Oh my god, you’d love her!” You put your hand on his arm like you were old friends again.

“I like my women to not give random drugs to people.”

“Bit hypocritical for a dealer to say.” You smirked.

“I know what I give my customers and I explain- hey I don’t have to justify myself to you.”

“So touchy.” You tease and wiggle your shoulders.

“A lot like you tonight. Which is why I knew you had to be on drugs.”

You snorted out a laugh. “You always were funny.” You said with a hum. “I miss being around funny people.” You sigh. “I mean that girl was funny tonight. And so cool. She was in a band. And she was so hot oh my god I wanted to die. I was so jealous. I could never be that sexy and cool.”

You never showed weakness. You’re admitting to insecurity openly to him now? Must’ve been a truth serum they gave you.

“What band?”

“She’s not from around here.”

“Oh.” He looked away as you boldly took in his face. “I mean you used to be cool.”

“Wasn’t sexy though.” You laughed.

“Well no, you were a kid.” He laughed

“What about now?” You ask with a raise of your chin. He hesitated. “Am I sexy now?” Eddie’s mouth stuttered.

“You uh- you’re… ya know…”

“You’re sexy you know.” You added quietly, leaning into him.

“You’re full of shit” he blurted out and you threw your head back in a laugh.

“So humble.” You reached over to push his curls back, your smile looking so genuine it made his chest hurt. “I always thought you were pretty.” You shrugged.

“Why are you saying this?” He blurted out.

“Because I won’t when I’m sober,” you answered quickly and so nonchalantly. “I’m hoping I won’t remember this so I won’t be embarrassed. Because you’re cool and hot now and I can’t be your friend and it fucking sucks. Also can’t be more than your friend.” You quietly added the last part.

“Would you want to be?”

“Would you?” You shot back.

“Before you walked out I thought maybe-“ he started but then shook his head in resignation.

“I thought maybe too.” You nodded. “I miss how nice you were to me.”

“I miss how nice you were to me.”

“I do too.” You paused. “This sucks.” you groaned.

“What does?“

“Everything.” You sigh and hang your head, arms flapping in a small expression of the big feeling of despair.

“I thought this was what you wanted?” he couldn’t help but sound judgemental, still defensive, unsure of the validity of the truths you were telling him.

“So did I.” you groan and throw your head back, posture slumped, like you didn’t care what you looked like. You weren’t performing for once. He was getting a glimpse at the real you. And you hadn’t changed all that much. It was heartbreaking and comforting at the same time. “But I can’t tell you you were right. Because of course, I can’t. But you already know you are so-!” You hopped off the porch in exclamation and landed on your feet somehow, he had flinched and reached out to catch you, hands at your waist as you stumbled only slightly, moving in his direction from the suggestion of his grip. There was a moment, you were in the shadow, backlit by the street lamps dotted across the trailer park. Your hands to his wrists, bent forward in front of him where you connected. And dammit he was still hopeful enough to forget you were high as a kite and might mean it. Your face was softer than it had been, fuller and older. So was the body he felt under his hands. He tried to jerk them away, his eyes rapidly blinking to pull him away from the far too-intimate stare. But your hands kept him on you, he gave you the biggest cow-eyed look full of questions as you didn’t let his hands off you. He called your name in question, you still looking over his face, trying to remember what he looked like up close because you didn’t know if you’d ever get this close again. “Things could’ve been so different.” he barely heard your whisper as your face finally fell, reality creeping back in. You let his wrists go and stepped backward, less confident this time. Your hands gathered in front of you to pick at your nails, looking at the ground with the shining promise of tears in them.

“What could’ve been?” he asked, eyes borderline frantic. You took another step backward.

“Doesn’t matter.” you shook your head and looked away, wiping your cheek.

“Sure it does.” he tried to pull you back in. Maybe he could get the closure he needed while you were high. It wasn’t the most moral thing he’d ever done but he wasn’t hurting anyone.

“Not anymore it doesn’t.” you run your hands through your hair and let out a raspberry of a sigh. “Ugh.” you looked up at the sky for a moment. “Fuck.” you covered your face in your hands and turned away from him, walking back toward your trailer.

“Hey! Are you gonna be okay?” he stood, ready to chase after you. You raised a hand and waved it.

“Don’t worry about me.” you shouted, feet moving faster but your tone made him do the opposite. “I can take care of myself.” you lied before disappearing into your home.

Eddie was left with the uncomfortable burden of knowing how you might feel. Which wasn’t even clear. The fact that there was any feeling there was enough for him to let it stew in his head. Maybe you were just wasted and blabbing. He shouldn’t put so much weight on something a girl high on pills said. But that didn’t stop it from eating away at him.

A few terrible interactions went down between you as you navigated high school and the cut throat social jungle it was. You’d done what you sought out to do. You’d made your way in. You’d lost yourself in the process making you do awful things to good people to keep your place among the royals of Hawkins high.

Then came a test of loyalty. After defending Eddie during a round of shit talking everyone became suspicious of whose side you were really on. Had you truly left your old life behind? So they had you do something that broke your heart. You wrote a note to Eddie and slipped it in his locker. You’d been told what to say and what to do. The way you did it with laughter and smiles churned your insides. He showed up to the diner as instructed under the guise of a romantic reconciliation. You walked in with another guy. Even if it wasn’t you that delivered the belittling words you still blew your bubble gum and smirked. You put on your show. You enabled it. That was just as bad in his eyes.

“You really thought someone like her would want to be with a freak like you?” They laughed.

Eddie was calm. He’d been suspicious all along. But he played along for that one tiny sliver of hope you weren't completely lost to him. That the night over the summer hadn’t been a lie.

He hid, sitting in the back of his van smoking a cigarette in a different parking lot to contemplate and decompress alone. He could see the back of the diner from there. He watched you walk out the front laughing alone and finishing a conversation. As you rounded the side and got out of sight your entire being shifted. You slouched, hands through your hair before digging a cigarette out of your purse and failing to light it with how much you were shaking. He watched as you started to cry. That was the turning point for you. Part of you died that you could never recover that day.

But he did nothing. He wasn’t even mad. Just disappointed knowing you had made your choice clear. And it wasn’t him.

The next time Eddie saw you cry he was more directly involved. He’d inadvertently started a rather nasty rumor about you. He'd made an off-color remark about your being a revolving door for the basketball team and through the rumor mill it ran. You leaned into it, you couldn’t let anyone see you upset, you had to be untouchable. You slang insults back all day and laughed them off but when you were alone the tears came. You left your house to cry by the trailer park dumpster. Not a usual place for such an activity but you didn’t want your mother asking questions. So at night, you skipped out to smoke and let it out against a graffitied cement block wall.

Eddie found you. On accident. Again. You stood up as he tossed his bag into the dumpster and wiped your face. He’d heard you, the street lamp showing enough to see your splotched face and swollen eyes.

“What?” You barked at him with a creased brow.

“I didn’t say anything.” He answered monotone.

“Odd that now you have nothing to say when you’ve been telling people I let the entire basketball team fuck me.” You spat out with nothing but venom.

“I didn’t say that.” Another one-note response.

“I supposed everyone else is lying about hearing it from you then?”

“Sweetheart I don’t talk to enough people to spread a fucking rumor and I sure as shit don’t care about you enough to try.” He saw the hurt then. It was personal. There was a thing of guilt with his words. But he was so overcome with defensiveness at the sight of you that now it was a hard habit to break. ”Maybe if you didn’t hang out with such shitty people and do shitty things to innocent people, rumors wouldn't spread about you. Seems like you deserve it to me.” He gave a half-formed shrugged and left you there. He didn’t hear you go back inside to cry the hardest you had in years.

Time passed and you didn’t speak at all. Not when he sold at parties, not when you crossed paths inside or outside of school. It was as if you were strangers for years. The distance between you felt unpassable. Too much damage left you both vulnerable to quickly assume the worst from the other. So misunderstandings happened.

It was the week of the school dance and you were on the planning committee. You’d gotten out of class to help decorate and had been painting banners all day. You were proud of your work but covered in stains from the paint. So when Eddie backtracked after he passed you in the hallway and then reached out to grab your arm roughly, you were startled. Not something that anyone else could’ve made you do.

“You? Are you fucking serious?” His voice was deeper now than the last time you’d heard it. His face was longer, more angular with light stubble on his cheeks. His hair was the longest it had ever been. The fleeting thought of how it suited him and how he more closely resembled a man than a boy now was plucked away when he shoved your shoulder for your lack of response.

“Sorry- I mean- what do you want?” You changed your real tone to the mask of cold bitch you wore.

“You’re the one that painted my fucking locker?”

“Your-? I was making banners.”

“Uh huh sure.” He rolled his eyes and put his hands on his hips. “Funny I don’t see any banners but I do see fag spray painted on my locker.” He saw the flinch. He would swear it later but his red angry vision made him doubt it. “In that shade of paint all over your fucking hands. You’d think you weren't that stupid.”

“I wouldn’t-“ your voice was quiet, too quiet for you. Your eyes shifted to see who was watching, leaning in a little closer to his face as if it might show him you were serious.

“Ha! You wouldn’t?” He laughed in your face, intruding on your personal space and looking you over with disdain.

“I didn’t.” You state with more backbone. “I made banners for the dance. I didn’t paint your locker. But I think asshole would’ve been more appropriate.” You sneered and stomped away, being sure to clip his shoulder with yours as you passed.

You walked by his locker, it was already painted over sloppily by the maintenance man. You could see the outline vaguely. You didn’t know who did it. Still don’t. But it hurt you to know he thought you’d be capable of it.

Then it was Eddie’s turn to be misunderstood. Something he found himself on the wrong side of more often than not. He’d had to watch you do your routine in your cheer uniform during the pep rally that morning. It infuriated him how attractive he thought you were. You had your makeup and hair fully done. Anytime you were in public he saw you look immaculate. But the bow and glitter were really doing it for him for some reason. He was pondering how cheer uniforms were even allowed with the flashes of cheek and their tailor-made fits to make you look as flawless as possible. You land with a smile into a split, chest heaving before the team collectively broke into giggles at the cheers and praise from the crowd. You were happy in that moment. He knew your real smile. The one that crooked to the right and showed a chip in your tooth you’d gotten from a rock when running after a raccoon. He saw a flash of that awkward kid and caught himself in a painful loop of nostalgia that morning. So the fact that he was staring at you bent over the table across from him wasn’t totally his fault. You’d made him think about you all morning already.

“God, she’s hot.” He blinked out of his trance at his friend's words.

“She’s such a bitch though.” Eddie grinned to himself, looking down as the guys talked about you, finally diverting his attention.

“It’s like the hottest ones are bitches. It’s like a rule of the universe or something.”

“I kinda like it when they’re mean.” A laugh moved through the small group of teen boys.

“Not the kind of mean cheerleaders are. Degrading but outside the bedroom is not the same.”

“I’d like to be mean to her.”

“That’s better. Now you’re talking.”

“Teach her a lesson. Make her shut the hell up. Man, that sounds like heaven.”

“Or hell.”

“Either way.” Eddie finally chimed in, a deep breath as he stood and lifted his lunch tray. “Doesn’t really matter because, at the end of the day, none of us has a snowball's chance in hell with any of them.” He nodded as if he was proud of the fact.

“Don’t be such a bummer dude.”

“Keeping it honest as always.”

“I’ve got to keep you guys with your feet on the ground. That’s my job. To be a fuckin buzzkill. Shit job but-“ he shrugged and turned, a smirk on his face and eyes on his friends as he stepped out. “Someone’s gotta-“

The clatter of silverware and a gross smush of food into tight polyester and your chest kept him from finishing his sentence.

“Shit.” He whispered, face winced as he was confronted with you, barely a foot away and looking as angry as he’d ever seen you.

“Seriously?” You shouted, gaining the attention of the room that hadn’t already been grabbed by the sound of the tray hitting the floor.

“Fuck.” He muttered, hands now empty and uncomfortably close to looking like he was trying to grab your boobs. “I know this won’t mean shit coming from me but I didn’t mean to “

“You didn’t mean to ruin my fucking uniform hours before the game?” You hissed. “Now I have to leave school and pay for a fucking dry cleaner and beg them to do it fast.” You sloughed off the mush of lunch food to fall into the floor between your feet.

“I didn’t.” He shrugged, shrinking under your glare.

“You just happened to stand and shove into me as I passed?” You sassed with an incredulous look on your face.

“You think the world revolves around you anyway so is that really that far-fetched?” 13-year-old you would’ve found that joke hilarious. But 17-year-old you did not. You shoved him with both hands causing him to stumble back into the table.

“Fucking asshole.” You hissed as you stomped off to leave him with the mess.

“I really didn’t mean to.” He said in his defense, blowing his cool uncaring persona. Oh well. He’d tried.

After you got over your seething anger over the major inconvenience he’d caused, you realized maybe he didn’t mean it. He’d seemed as shocked as you had. He’d lacked his trademark cocky smugness. You recalled the times you’d wished you could’ve told him it wasn’t you and have him believe you. So it made your next interaction a lot more honest. The most honest you’d had with him in 4 years.

You’d begun your senior year. That had caused a pause for some self-reflection on your behalf. It was much needed and well overdue. You saw how much you hated the fake friends you had. You constantly had to run every thought and action through a filter before saying or doing anything. You could have no opinions of your own. You couldn’t deviate from the herd lest they pick you off. You had one more year. You could do that. You could have that popular girl high school experience then go to college and figure out who you were now. Because you felt entirely lost.

Which led you to an old hobby. You tried to do things that used to make you happy before you had to become someone you weren’t. So you did something you never do- and went out alone. A midnight showing in the middle of the week of an old horror movie. You figured you’d be safe there. You could be alone and laugh and turn your brain off for a little bit.

You’d be wrong.

There was one other person in the theatre. Eddie Munson.

You rounded the corner into the theatre, diet soda in hand. You’d naturally paused to see if anyone else was there or what seating options there were. But your eyes landed on the near-black set of Eddie’s with his frame of long wavy hair. You stared a little too long before looking down and away, your hands up and awkward as you decided what to do. You couldn’t leave. You didn’t want to either. You could sit alone away from him but that felt just as weird since you were the only two in the theatre and you knew each other. Sorta. Should you sit with him? Was that too much? You quickly realize you’ve been standing in place far too long and make a split-second decision.

“Do you wanna uh-sit together?” Your voice lacked its trademark bite. Soft and unsure. He leaned forward, looking behind you, confirming you were alone.

“Are you fuckin’ serious?” He huffed out a laugh. A defense mechanism that had hardly any thought behind it anymore. He saw you frown. You never frowned. Or showed any emotion besides happiness or smugness.

“Okay. Sorry, I asked.” You held up your hands in surrender and walked a few rows down and sat near the middle.

You’d said sorry. That was different. His curiosity was piqued. If he was a cat he’d be dead. He waited, running through possible scenarios and traps with how this could play out. The previews started and you were still alone. He took a chance and like you, made a split-second decision.

He plopped down next to you without a word. You understood his hesitancy. You didn’t even blame him for snapping at you. But a pleasant warmth spread in your body as he sat arm to arm, kicking his feet up on the seat in front of him. He shook a box of candy at you. You shook your head to decline. Another shake, insistent you partake.

“I don’t want any, thanks.” You whispered as if there were other people around.

“C’mon they’re your favorite.” Eddie was skilled at watching out of his peripheral. He saw your lashes bat, a look of confusion then concentration. You hadn’t expected him to remember.

“I know.” You said softly. “But I’ll pass.”

“I mean… 12 year old you would kick your ass for saying that.”

You laughed. An honest to god laugh and he turned his whole head to see it happen in slow motion in the harsh lighting of the projector. You sighed and shook your head.

“12-year-old me didn’t have to worry about getting fat.” You almost snorted out, eyes on the screen.

“You’re not fat and who cares if you were? One piece of candy isn’t going to kill you.” He took your hand and opened it up, placing the candy into it. It was a risk, he knew that. But this felt different somehow.

“Thanks.” was the last word spoken until the lights came up.

“Since when do you come to these things?” He asked as he held the door open for you as you left the theatre.

“Since I’ve been doing some soul searching.” An honest answer he was again, surprised by.

“Didn't know you had one of those.”

“Me either.” you said with a tired laugh. “That’s why I’m here. Trying to find it again.”

“Finding your soul means watching old scary movies?” He asked as you walked to the parking lot together.

“Trying to figure out what I like now. So I guess it does.” You nodded. You looked tired. Not a superficial kind. “You still like the same stuff?”

“Mostly, some new things added in.” He gave away, playing his cards close. He still wasn’t sure why you were being so… human.

“Thanks for sitting with me.” You gave him a soft smile as you stood at your car.

“You’re welcome.” He didn’t want to give away the hope it made him feel. He didn’t want to feel that about you. He’d done it before and had it squashed. “I’ll see you around.” He took a step away, purposely wobbling as he did so. “I’ll be sure to be a prick again next time.”

“I’ll be the same old bitch again I’m sure.” You gave him a tired smile.

And you were. So tired.

The next time you interacted with Eddie followed the same new, path you two were making together. It was civil.

As much of in your defense as it could be, you were drunk. You had also just been harassed into trying to get Eddie to sell you weed when he’d refused the guys you were with. It was a house party like any other, everyone out to forget the horrors of existence and make questionable decisions that made them feel alive for the night. Both of you were not an exception to the rule. You looked down onto the pool patio, Eddie alone on a lounge chair with his infamous lunch box, parked and taking orders.

“C’mon! He won’t sell to us, the little prick.”

“What makes you think he’ll sell to me? Why not send someone else?” you motion to the other various girlfriends in the room.

“He’s got a soft spot for you. We have to take advantage of that. You’re our inside girl when it comes to that freak, you know that.”

“The names he’s called me lead me to think otherwise.” you grumped and crossed your arms. Your boyfriend stepped towards you and put his hands on your shoulders, looking you in the eye, bending over to get to your level. “I don’t know why I have to. This seems impossible.”

“Because you’re hot, babe.” he stated with no sweetness behind it. It was merely a fact to be used in his favor. “And he’s a freak but he’s still a red-blooded American male just like us. Push those pretty tits together and bat your lashes and get your way like you do.” he gave you a supportive slap to the shoulder more suited for a teammate than a girlfriend. You breathed in deep from your nostrils and out, your tits seemed to serve only their purpose rose and fell as you pushed down your anger.

“What if he’s not into girls? You guys say it enough, what makes you think you’re wrong?” you try to sidestep the situation entirely.

“Well, that can’t be true because he fingered Melissa.” he throws a thumb so casually her way.

“Oh my God! I told you not to tell anyone that!” she shouted and hid her face in the nearest pillow.

“It had to be said in this instance.” he excused himself.

“We don’t look anything alike… what if I’m not his type?” you tried.

“Babe, you’re everyone's type. That’s why you’re with me. I gotta have what everyone else wants.” he smirked.

“And when he doesn’t sell to me after I jiggle my bits at him? What then?” you put your hands on your hips as your boyfriend leaned against a wall and crossed his arms.

“Why don’t you go fucking try instead of standing here complaining?” his best friend interjects.

“I didn't ask you.” You sneered.

“Someone should.” he puffed up. “Look, we need the drugs to have a good time. And if we don’t have a good time, no one does. Which means you aren’t going to have a good time. You understand?” The weighted statement made your stomach hurt.

“We should just leave. Try someone else.” you sigh and rub the bridge of your nose.

“You need to suck it up buttercup. Go charm him, hell, I don’t give a shit if you have to blow him to get it. Just get it.” Your lids rapidly blink, surprised outwardly for a moment before remembering you were dealing with some of the most selfish people you’d ever met.

“You’re telling me to blow other guys for drugs. And in front of him?” you motion to your boyfriend who rolls his eyes.

“This is more important than you giving that freak the ride of his life.” he laughs and shakes his head.

“So if I go fuck him…” you begin with the hot anger started to show. You’re grabbed by the shoulders and turned around.

“Do what you have to do.” his best friend says before shoving you out of the bedroom door.

“But-” you turn as fast as you can to be met with a slammed door in your face. Something is mumbled and then the group laughs.

Hurt and alone you white knuckle grip the stair railing to keep your balance and stomp down the stairs in heels that weren’t meant to move fast or angrily in.

Eddie watched you from behind the bright cherry of a cigarette as you came down the stairs, clearly upset. You appeared and disappeared through the large windows of the house. The quiet, cold outside was opposed in cool toned light to the hot inside with dancing bodies. The lighting warm and golden, your skin on show with your little black dress giving enough away to make anyone attracted to women look. He observed as you strong-shouldered your way between people a little too roughly, going to the kitchen and dunking a plastic cup into the certainly tainted punch bowl. Not even he dared touch that stuff with his vast drug experience. You shot it back like it was some chaser and slammed it to the countertop. You gave your cheeks a slap which made him laugh before turning into a subtle smirk watching you push your chest together in the low-cut dress. He knew they’d send you after he told them to fuck off after their vague threats and refusal to pay his prices.

You gathered yourself up, resigned to your fate as you made your way to the glass patio doors. You let the warmth of the alcohol wash over you, embraced the fuzz and buzz of it. With a full cup in your hand, you saunter out all hips and bouncing chest after sliding the door shut behind you.

“Hey.” it was a little drawn out, not exactly slurred yet. But you’d been drinking since age 13 so you weren’t a lightweight by any means.

“Hey.” he gave right back, looking down and eyes swinging up to see you swaying toward him. It wasn’t a sight he hated to see, but the reasoning behind it kept him from enjoying it as much as he could. You sat across from him on another lounge chair. Your posture was obvious to push your boobs together, shining smooth legs stretched out and settled next to his.

“So you know why I’m here.” you began with a splay of your drink-filled hand. He looked up to give you his full attention then. Surprise at your honesty clear on his face.

“I could assume, yeah.” he nodded slowly, looking you over which you seemed to invite.

“I figure…” you began, leaning in and taking a drink, and lowering your voice. “With you, an honest approach will work best. Because I was ordered to come down here and seduce you into giving me drugs.” You watched him lean back and laugh, before resting his elbows on his knees.

“Honesty is the best policy. You’ve not always been so open to that.” He winked his eye, brows raised to remind you of his words of warning years ago.

“You’re not wrong.” You shrugged. “It would be in both our best interests to use it moving forward with this… working relationship.”

“We could have had it all along, you know.” He offered with a nod of his chin. “But you wanted to play dirty.”

“I know.” You rolled your eyes. “But I’m 18, not 13 Ed. I like to think I know a little more about how these things work now.”

“You do.” A more subtle nod as you leaned in close to speak to one another.

“You wanna hear my plan?” You ask with a perk up of your posture and a tilt of your head.

“Shoot.”

“I’m gonna touch you. Heads up.” You say quietly with a suppressed giggle as your hand lands on his knee. You watch his chin push back into his neck as his eyes get a little wider. “I’ll pay you want you want. I’m not gonna be an asshole like they are about it. But we don’t have to tell them that part.”

“I’m listening.”

“When I said I was ordered down here to seduce you I wasn’t joking.” You say with pursed lips. “They’re going to be watching me out here with you. So I’m gonna play along with their plan so they won’t be shitty to me later, okay?”

“You’re going to fake seduce me… so they aren’t mean to you?” He wore confusion on his face.

“If they knew I was talking to you like a person I’ll never hear the end of it. This isn’t just about the drugs now, it’s about making me do something I don’t wanna do.” Your face wasn’t as bright as it was, dimming as you explained.

“Fucking assholes.”

“Yeah, they are. Well established.” You rushed out. “So I’m gonna flirt and you’re gonna not puke on me because I’m doing it.” that got a smile out of him.

“Not gonna puke.” He rubbed his hand over his mouth to hide his laugh. “You know that’s the funniest thing you’ve said to me in years.”

“Why? I figured you were repulsed by me. Hated everything I stood for.”

“Sure but… not you specifically. Not anymore anyway. Whatever’s gotten into you recently shows there’s humanity in there somewhere.”

“I’m trying.” You sigh and stop before your shoulders slump.

“More so it was the idea that you… arguably the hottest girl in Hawkins thinks touching me would make me puke.” He let himself laugh.

“Well, it’s more of a philosophical ralphing, not a literal one.” You flashed him a genuine smile. There was no argument. You were the hottest. At least in his opinion.

“I’m glad you’re still funny.”

“I’m glad you remember I ever was.” You press your lips together into something apologetic. “I don’t get to be much anymore. Just mean.” You looked away, your face turning down as your eyes glazed for a moment. He hadn’t realized the amount of hurt that was inside you. You were so good at not showing it.

“Let’s make your night a little easier then, huh?” He leaned down to open his lunchbox. “I’ll play along and you can go up there to those goons and get wasted out of your gourd and not be bothered by them.”

“Be bothered by them less.” You perked back up and tapped the bulb of his nose which made him wrinkle back with a disgusted look on his face before letting out a deep chuckle.

“I said I’d play along. Don’t get cocky.” He smirked and lowered your hand.

“Okay, playing by your rules Mr. Munson.” You agreed with a smile and put your hands up in surrender.

“Don’t go saying that I might think you’re being nice to me.”

“Shut up.” You giggle and put your hand back on his knee.

“That's better. That feels more natural.” He nodded and pulled out a baggy.

“You aren’t gonna weasel a kiss or a hand job for it?” You snorted out a laugh.

“Don’t think your boyfriend would like that very much.” He grinned and put in the mix of uppers and downers requested previously.

“I was given orders to do whatever it took. Even fuck you.” You delivered the words as if they weren’t terribly depressing. He didn’t hide his distaste for the statement.

“Are you serious?” He closed his box and tucked it away, a heavy bag in his hand.

“Does it matter?” You shrug as you tuck his hair behind his ear, being sure to keep up the flirting for the audience above.

“Fuck yes it matters are they… are you safe? What are they making you do if they’re telling you to…” he audibly gulped. “Do that for drugs from me.” He’d taken your hand into his and leaned in close to your face, your hands hanging between you.

“I’m a big girl, Ed.” You give him a smile that was warmer than warranted. “I can handle them just fine.”

“That’s fucked up. Even for them.” He shook his head.

“All part of the game.” You almost sing it, reaching out to take the bag.

“Money first. Can’t risk this all being a very elaborate ploy.”

“It’s in my cleavage if you want it.” You chuckle.

“I’m not gonna reach in your cleavage and get it.” He couldn’t help but let a small grin slip as he glanced down at your chest.

“We have to make them believe I came down here and laid it on thick.” You reminded him. “We can sneak off around the house where they can’t see if you want. To be realistic we’d only have to be there for what? 2, 3 minutes tops?” You let your laugh grow and flip your hair back.

“Very funny.” He raised his brows and rolled his eyes. “I don’t want them to think I’m the kind of man that accepts sex for drugs.”

“High moral standing.” You pucker your lips and nod. “I can respect that.” You paused and chew your cheek trying to think of how to sell this. “I’ll say I exploited your soft spot for me then. No prostitution involved.”

“I’m good with that. I’d rather be soft than the alternative.”

“Your money, sir.” You hand him the folded bills.

“I gotta count it before you leave.” He said already thumbing through it.

“I added in my money plus theirs.”

“Better make sure you get your fair share then.” He offered you the bag willingly again. You plucked it up with a smile. No more honesty, back to the pretty mask you wore in preparation to deal with your overlords again.

“I aim to not know my own name by the end of the night.” You say with a smirk and stand, shoving the bag between your boobs. “Pleasure doing business with you Munson.” You nodded and pulled your dress down where it’s ridden up.

“Pleasures all mine.” He gave you a broad grin. You swish away, Eddie settling back into the quiet before breaking it. “Hey.” He calls out to you and you turn to look over your shoulder. “Be careful, alright?”

“You be careful.” You shot back with a grin. “People are gonna think we don’t hate each other.” His smile was enough of a response for you. “Don’t worry about me, Eddie. Worry about yourself.” You left him with.

He tried to follow your advice. Knowing his interloping could put you both in a compromising situation. But you’d done as you said and were blasted out of your mind. Eddie was skulking about, the party starting to die down with no new people showing up anymore so that was his cue to head home. He was near the entrance when he heard your voice.

“I said I don’t WANT to!” you were like a baby foal in your heels, ankles, and knees wobbly from the level of non-sobriety you’d reached.

“C’mon…” a guy's voice said with authority it shouldn’t have for your response. The hair on Eddie’s neck prickled up at the sound.

“Im sleepy. I wanna go HOME.” you bellow out and leaned forward, catching yourself on his arm.

“How about we find a room and I’ll put you to bed.”

“This isn’t my house STUPID.” you say loudly. Eddie had stopped, out of sight in the foyer as you argued by the stairs. He knew it wasn’t your boyfriend that was talking to you.

“I know that, you don’t have to be a bitch. I didn’t mean you were gonna sleep. I mean you might but I’m not.”

“GeddOFF!” you shoved him back and hard. Eddie heard a thud against the wall and stiffened.

“Don’t fuggin’ push me. Shit, you’re strong.” the guy mumbled. Okay, maybe you could take care of yourself Eddie thought, weighing his options.

“I could kick your dumb ass.” you proudly proclaimed and your tone said you believed it.

“You could try but we both know who would win that fight. I win every fight. All of ‘em.”

“Because you cheat.” you snapped back.

“I win. That’s all that matters.”

“No it isn’t!” you shouted, clearly upset at this declaration he made. “You gotta play by some rules. You have to have SOME. You can break some but you gotta have something.” you jumbled and Eddie sighed. He never liked dealing with blackout drunk people.

“I don’t. I get my way. I always do.” Eddie didn’t see, he only heard the small sound you made as the guy grabbed your shoulders. “He’s passed out. He’s such a fuckin’ lightweight. And a fuckin pussy for letting you run around like this. Looking good enough to eat. He’s left room for a real alpha male to come in and take you down.”

“When I see one I’ll let you know.” You barked back and Eddie covered his mouth to hide his smile, still hovering by the door, indecisive.

“Shut the fuck up. You sleep with everyone. Everyone knows it. Anyone with the right combination of name brands can get with you.”

“Shut up.” you grumble, sounding smaller.

“I don’t know why you won’t let ME bone you though. You act like you’ve got some loyalty all of a sudden when I come into the picture.”

“I do! I don’t cheat on him!” you loudly declared and Eddie felt his heart hurt for you. You really didn’t. That crack in your voice was real. But he knew your boyfriend cheated on you. Hell, even you probably knew.

“Sure, sweet cheeks.” the guy let out a deep, disgusting laugh. “Whatever you have to tell yourself to sleep at night.”

“How do you sleep at night? Trying to fuck your best friend's girlfriend anytime he leaves me alone!” Eddie winced, knowing who was the predator now and deducting this was not the first time this had happened. He never thought it would happen but, he felt sorry for you.

“I told you I’m taking what should be mine anyway. He’s a fuckin cuck, I know he doesn’t teach you a lesson like he should.” then your laughter bubbled up from deep inside as you cackled into his face.

“Like you could do SHIT!” you almost spit in his face. “We’re both drunk, you idiot. You had whiskey! Ever heard of whiskey dick? Or coke dick? You had both! You couldn’t get it up if you tried!” your confidence was admirable, he had to give you that.

“Listen here you little slut. You’re gonna fuck me. It’s gonna happen. Maybe not tonight. But I’ll get you. When you least expect it.” he hissed and Eddie felt his blood boil.

“If you do I’ll tell him. I’ll tell him everything. I’ll tell him what a lying, cheating, manipulating piece of shit you are. I know you steal from him. That you sabotaged his car before his trip to visit his college because you don’t wanna be alone because you’re too stupid to get into the same school as him. I’ll tell him everything. I’ll ruin your entire EXISTENCE you little shit.” Another loud thud made Eddie move to action. But he found you, holding him by the jaw and holding him against a wall. “He might not care about me. But he cares about that. And he’ll dump you like the trash you are.”

“Are you threatening me?” he laughed, grabbing you by the wrist but somehow you didn’t flinch. Eddie admired the shit out of you at the moment.

“It’s a fucking promise. Now let GO of me. I’m leaving!” he scuttled back into the entryway and out the door, avoiding being seen. He left feeling optimistic about you in a lot of unexpected ways. He knew you had to be strong to an extent to be a cheerleader, but damn. He knew you had to be tough to have survived in the group you had for years. But he’d entirely underestimated you. He thought you were a groveling shadow of a girl, a yes man who did whatever they wanted. Maybe it started that way. But clearly, you’d had enough.

Turns out you weren’t the only one that had had enough of your strength in the face of their bullshit. He knew you’d gotten too confident, too self-assured, and aware to be of use anymore. So he looked for a way to take you down. And he found it.

Which is where you are now. In a moment no one wants to happen to them. This was called a worst-case scenario.

Everyone gawked and whispered as you walked into school that next week. Which was way different than the usual mix of fear, lust, or jealousy. Now they looked at you with a new pairing of pity and superiority. Practiced, you didn’t flinch, merely side-eyeing them as you entered the school.

But the papers were everywhere.

Taped haphazardly onto lockers and walls, strewn around the hallways. One floated to your feet as the doors shut behind you. Familiar insults of whore and slut scrawled over photocopies of polaroids of you naked that you’d taken for your boyfriend. It was as if time froze. Your heart stopped and somehow the world around you kept moving. All your expectations for the rest of your senior year were just turned into dust. Questions swirled in your mind as you stared blankly at the page like it might answer any of them.

But just as serial killers like to do, the culprit hovered and watched, letterman jacket tight around his muscular arms as he leaned against the block wall at the edge of the entry leading to the main hall. His gaze was enough to shoot cold daggers into your gut. His smirk gave him away. He was smug, proud of his work. Your boyfriend's best friend. You didn’t like the guy for many reasons, but you’d never let yourself act on it. At least not that you recalled. You’d been so drunk you’d threatened him and forgotten about it. But his psychopathic ass did not.

Sober, acting how you wanted was never an option. You’d learned that when your boobs came in. Your body and actions and we’re no longer yours. You did what everyone else told you to or they’d ostracize you. By being poor you were already an outsider to them. You didn’t dare give them a reason to push you out. But here you were, laughter growing among the herd, wolf whistles and wagging tongues pointed your way as you stood with dead eyes. You brought the copied paper to your chest as if it might shield you somehow. You felt like a freak show act with a spotlight directly on you.

The one person who understood this feeling was looking at the same paper in his hand. You saw him in the crowd, a bit off center and observing before seeing the photos. His heart dropped to his stomach, his brow furrowed and apologetic before his eyes even met yours. You stared at him. He didn’t even blink. Your mouth opened as if it might call out his name, beg for mercy or cry. A tear finally broke and fell over the slope of your cheek. You didn’t even register you were crying, you remained stone except for that very telling tear. It stood out like a single gem in the sand to him. Every part of him should be smug. He should be indignant and cross his arms and tell you he told you so. Because he had. So many times. And you wouldn’t listen. The one guy that should be looking at you the way everyone else was…wasn’t. He was the only kind soul in the room. Somehow that hurt worse. You didn’t deserve to have Eddie’s sympathy, his empathy. Because he’d warned you the summer you turned 13 that these people would hurt you. He’d begged you not to leave him and go with them instead. But his truths weren’t pretty. And their lies were far too shiny and appealing to your little magpie mind.

You had very few options. But there were options. Your mind worked a mile a minute, looking at the albeit flattering for a center spread but not for the faux conservative Hawkins photos. You couldn’t deny it. Your face was there. There were too many copies to make it disappear. He’d made sure of it. You turned your eyes to the attacker and he didn’t back down. You didn’t expect him to. He was probably hard watching all this play out. You were ruined. There was no coming back from everyone seeing you naked. And with no context. You couldn’t tell everyone they were private photos just for your boyfriend who you’d been in a long-term relationship with and were just trying to keep happy and his attention on you. You were in a way, just trying to be a good girlfriend. But you knew they wouldn’t hear it. They’d heard the rumors. They’d assume you were passing these out like trading cards. The falsity of it did upset you, but you knew no one would believe you. All you had was yourself now. So how do you save yourself when all your usual tools are taken away?

“You did this.” you stated as fact and not a question as you walked up to him, inches apart, giving him no room.

“Prove it.” he gave a cocky nod of his head. That was full admission to you.

“These were taken for him. For ONLY him. He kept them in his dresser to hide them. No one else has access to his shit like you do. And he wouldn’t do this because it hurts his reputation too.”

“Aw. Now she cares about his reputation.” he dramatically pouted.

“I’m stating facts, asshole.” you bit. “But what I want to know is why? This is a lot of fucking effort. It’s pretty pathetic if you ask me.” you waved the paper as if it didn’t hurt you to see it.

“You know why.” Another admission of guilt.

“If I did I wouldn’t be asking, dumbass.”

“I wouldn’t be calling me that. You don’t have the cards in your hand anymore sweetie. He’s gonna dump your ass and I’ll never have to deal with your big mouth again.”

“Good.” you say despite yourself. Never give them what they want in situations like this. That was your rule. “Now I won’t have to deal with either of you limp dicks anymore.” You shoved the paper to his chest as hard as you could. You heard a crack and he let out a noise of pain. You turned and walked out of the school. You sure as hell weren’t going to be around to witness this fresh shit show firsthand. No fucking way. You got out of there as soon as you had what answers you knew you could get.

Eddie didn’t blame you. Like everyone else, he’d heard the whole conversation. The guy had practically written a confession with witnesses. But just like you, he knew it wouldn’t matter. They saw you, the golden girl they envied getting what she deserved. The queen was dethroned and the peasants and her court descended into chaos. He was glad you left. It was the smartest thing you could’ve done.

Now you were left with 100 jolts worth of energy and nowhere for it to go. You paced, but that achieved nothing, the small space of your trailer not giving you any room to get speed or force going to physically get out the endless well of emotion brewing inside you. So you got out, went to the shed, and took out your bike. You hadn’t used it since you’d gotten your license. But driving would be dangerous since you were distracted and a car wreck on top of everything else wasn’t what you needed. So you left and rode until your muscles gave out.

There was a meeting with your mother at the school. You told the truth for once. You told them everything. You had nothing to lose. You were only met with disappointed faces and no sympathy. Because of course, it wasn’t that the boy that leaked them was in the wrong, it was you for taking them. You muttered about sexism but no one gave a shit. All copies had been destroyed that they could find. The amount left stashed away for guys to jerk off to or girls to envy were immeasurable. There were no repercussions for you since you technically did nothing wrong in the eyes of the school, only morally. They couldn’t punish you for being a slut.

It was a weird, rough week. The worst in a long, long time. You simply avoided and ignored. You almost broke quite a few pinkies grabbing guy's hands who thought they could speak to you a certain way or try to touch you. Word traveled fast that if you had been a slut, you no longer were. Except for the whispers, no one else did much. A girl who had a reputation herself tried to empathize. Which you appreciated but being seen with a verified slut wasn’t the image you were looking to build. You’d like to have no image. Just be invisible until graduation. You hid away during lunch, you arrived right before the bell and left right after. You’d quit the cheerleading team which hurt the worst honestly. You loved it. But the joy was no longer there. The girls were told to hate you, so they did. There was no point in trying.

You wish you could say you rose above and didn’t let it hurt you but that’d be a lie. By Friday you were exhausted in ways you didn’t know were possible. You needed a break, some kind of relief. So you went to the one person who had told you not to come to him when your world was ripped away from you. You didn’t care to grovel or apologize or beg. You were prepared to agree with everything he said because he was right. He had been and probably still was smarter than you. You should probably tell him that too, come to think.

Eddie’s phone rang suspiciously soon after he’d come home from Hellfire. Only having had time to kick his shoes off and throw his jacket off he looked at the phone as if had tattled on him somehow.

“Y’ello?” he says with smacked lips.

“Hey.” you paused, licking your lips, looking at his trailer from your window, the cord twirling around your finger.

“Hey.” He sounded just as surprised as you thought he might.

“It’s-”

“I know who it is.” he interrupted you, but it made your shoulders fall a bit, losing the tension for the lack of bite or blame in his voice.

“I wanted to call before I came over. To make sure it was okay.” his face frowned, you sounded like shit.

“Yeah. I just got in, come over whenever.” he said casually, not giving away the cautious questioning he had of the situation.

“Oh, good. Great. Thanks. I’ll be over in just a minute.”

It was a literal minute later you were standing in his living room, looking as soft as ever. You’d kept up appearances for school, still looking immaculate except for the addition of a hoodie this week. Which he found suspicious but he didn’t want to pry. He had his leather jacket and battle vest to make him look bigger and more intimidating. It functioned as a security blanket of sorts for him. Even though yours was still fitted he considered maybe you were trying the same thing out. Or maybe you simply didn’t want people to see any more of your body than they already had. He couldn’t blame you either way.

He’s let you in without a word, going into the kitchen in sweats and a T-shirt, and mismatched socks. He was making himself a bowl of cereal to knock back the hunger of not having eaten since lunch. You watched silently, knowing you were intruding.

“Want some?” He offered, shaking the brightly colored box.

“No thanks.” You said quietly with a shake of your head. He finished his chore and stood with his bowl in hand, hip to the kitchen island counter. He took a few bites, looking you over.

“You look like shit.” He said in a monotone voice and it was exactly what you needed. He watched you break into a laugh, bending slightly, stomach moving with it before you cover your bare face with both hands. You let out a loud groan that grew naturally from the laughter.

“Fuck I know.” You continued laughing, the absurdity of it all hitting you. You knew he’d see right through you. He didn’t necessarily mean you were ugly. He meant you looked how you felt. He was confirming that he knew you weren’t doing well in his subtle weird way that made tears want to prickle in your eyes from how you’d missed it. You’d missed honesty and feeling seen.

He watched you go through the stages of grief in that slightly unhinged laugh. But he loved it. You ran your hand through your hair to pull it away for a moment as you fan your face. Your fingers separated the hair and it fell into a non-styled flop. He’d never seen you willingly mess up the effort you put into your hair with any more than a fluff of your bangs. It was comforting somehow. It made you real again.

“I feel it. I look it. Everything is as it appears.” You held your arms out to present yourself.

“You survived.” He offered optimistically.

“So far.” You held up a finger as of you were directing him which made him smile.

“What can I do ya for?” light-heartedly asking that you tell him why you’re at his house at almost 11 on a Friday night.

“Right.” You nodded, weight shifting from your heels to the balls of your feet to give away your nervousness. He hasn’t seen you move and fidget so much since you were a kid. “As you can imagine… I have not been able to relax this week. Or sleep much. Or well. At all. So I wanted to see if I could buy some weed so I could unclench my asshole for the first time all week. Oh and breathe and sleep and generally not hate existing.” He snorted out a laugh at your crudeness.

“I can do that.” He nodded before shoveling the cereal into his mouth. Forgoing the spoon once the bits were gone and slurping back the milk. He wiped his mouth with his forearm before leaning forward to give you a friendly slap to the arm. “Come on back I got some options.” He was warm and welcoming with his voice which is why the sound of your physical pain when his hand made contact with your body stood out all the more. He froze for a moment, staring at the spot he’d hit before he flicked his eyes to yours. He saw the wince that was still on your face. When you looked away from him he knew his suspicions about the hoodie had been correct. “What’d he do to you?” Burst forth without much thought behind it from his mouth with the protectiveness of a knight.

You shook your head and let out a sound to belittle the situation.

“It was your boyfriend wasn’t it?”

“Yeah but-“ you began to explain before Eddie invaded your personal space and grabbed your hand to yank up the sleeve and see bruises on your arm. He said nothing. Which was scarier somehow. He walked past you and started shoving his feet into his shoes. “What are you doing?” Your voice going high-pitched from stress.

“I’m going to go kill your boyfriend.” And to your surprise he meant it. His voice wasn’t dramatic or loud. It was full of years of built-up hate that was about to be played out with terrifying calmness.

“No. No no no no.” You walked to get his shoulders and block the door. “You’re not killing anyone.”

“He laid his hands on you.” It was all he needed to say.

“I know but it was sorta an accident.” You elaborated.

“An accident?” He stepped back, his face incredulous. “Bullshit.”

“I fell.” Your face winced and you waited.

“That’s the best you could come up with? You fell? The oldest cover-up in the book?” You could feel the heat of anger coming off him now. It made you tense and reactive as he stood towering over you.

“He didn’t mean to. Not like this. It was an accident.”

“Do you hear yourself?” His voice rose and he hasn’t meant for it too. He was seeing red and you were giving him flashbacks to scenes that had played out with women before.

“I know but it won’t happen again!” You’d hit the checklist of every cliche and excuse he’d ever heard from another woman who had been hit by her significant other. He was fully triggered.

“Do you hear yourself?” His anger turned to you and it frightened you. ”He didn’t mean it.” He mimicked. “Was it your fault too? Was he drinking? Did you trip down the stairs? I expected better from you. You sound like your mother.” He spat out as you gasped in shock and slapped him across the face without hesitation. He was right. But that didn’t mean he got to say it. It was as if it flipped a switch and his eyes went soft immediately.

“You don’t get to talk about my mom like that. You want me to bring yours into this?” There was the woman he’d seen stand up for herself last week. That’s who he’d wanted to find again. He needed to know you weren’t another victim. He worried for you so much growing up with the only example of relationships being the shitty ones your mother kept getting into.

“Shit.” He said stepping back and holding his hands up. “I-fuck I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah you fucking should be!” You shouted and stood with balled fists. He walked away and sat on the couch in defeat. He took off his shoes and tossed them back by the door.

“I’m sorry.” He said again after a long heavy silence.

“What the fuck was that?” You asked in a stained squeak. “With this fucking week I’ve had and I come to you expecting me to be the one apologizing for being a dick and then you go and talk over me and then-“ you stopped and took a deep breath to steady yourself.

“When I thought about him hurting you…” he said so carefully, softly now. “It reminded me of all the times I’ve heard good women make excuses for shitty men.” he shrugged, hands flopping with lackluster enthusiasm. “Not that it matters now but I promised myself a long time ago that I wouldn’t ever let that happen to you.” He didn’t look at you, he stared a hole into the coffee table, his hands clasped together, elbows on his knees sitting forward on the couch. “And I failed. I heard that asshole coming onto you and you threw him against the wall I thought oh, maybe she’s got it covered. She’s not the victim here. But tonight I saw just how hard I failed you and… I’m sorry.” He spoke with a slow pace to think of his words before he said them. “I never wanted this for you.”

“Me either.” You barely got out, hit with heavy feelings from his words. God you didn’t know what to do with honesty anymore did you? Any excuse you’d heard from a guy in years was bullshit. But that was real. It was more than real it was vulnerable and raw. He gave you a part of himself and apologized. Actually apologized. Your brain slowly inputs the information you had just heard, running on a delay. “I threw a guy into a wall?” You asked in the silence and he looked up at you.

“You were totally faded. I’m not surprised you don’t remember. I figured you might from the words you had with him before you left school… that day.”

“I threw HIM into a wall?” You asked with high brows.

“He was… coming onto you. And not… nicely.”

“That’s being polite.”

“It wasn’t the first time was it?”

“Nope.” You popped your p.

“And you told him you’d tell your boyfriend everything about him. Lying, stealing, and trying to sleep with you. You said you’d ruin his life.”

“Shit, I wish I remembered. That sounds amazing. I bet that felt good as hell to get off my chest.” Your body language was slack again, no longer responding to a threat. “I guess that answers my question as to why he did it.” You hummed, chewing your lip before going and sitting next to Eddie on the couch. “I threatened him so he had to take me out before I took him out.” You nodded and Eddie watched the realization move across your face. “Those are the rules.” You shrugged.

“Doesn’t make it suck any less.”

“I’m supposed to say that.” You hit his knee with the back of your hand. “Not you.” You shared a light in your eyes that pushed passed the sadness for a moment.

“Sorry.” He gave you a small unintentional smile as you looked at one another in resigned misery.

“I’d like to explain what happened if you can you handle that?” Your motion to your bruised arm.

“Yeah. I was caught off guard before. I’m okay now.”

“Good.” you nodded and rubbed your knees, straightening your back before you began your upsetting tale. “I went for a bike ride after I got home that day. I had to get out and wear myself out so I’d stop feeling like I was going to explode. And of course, once he got to school he left to find me and he did. He pulled up on the side of the road and we… talked. If that’s what you wanna call it.” you shrugged and sighed. “This-“ you held up your forearm. “was from him grabbing me so I didn’t ride away at one point. So that was intentional. But the rest wasn’t.”

“The rest?”

“Yeah.” You grimaced, reluctant to share. “If I tell you, you can’t kill anyone.”

“I’m already pissed about the arm, just not at you.” He made sure you understood.

“Well, it gets worse.” You smile but it’s obviously fake as you hold up your hands and wiggle your fingers. “But I don’t want us to fight so I need to know I won’t get the brunt of your misplaced anger.”

“No, you won’t.” he groaned.” I’m sorry about before, really. This week has been very weirdly hard for me too. I’m not making this about me I swear I’m just saying.”

“It’s so nice to talk to someone who just says what they’re thinking.” You look at him with an odd smile.

“Most people hate it. Think it’s annoying.”

“Those people haven’t had the distinct displeasure of dealing with psychopaths.” You shook your head to clear it. “Anyway. Arm yeah. Bad. But I told him everything about his so-called best friend and to no one’s surprise but mine he didn’t believe a goddamn word I said.” You threw your hands up in defeat to sell your point.

“Oh, fuck.” he whispered.

“Yep. Instead, he got mad at ME.”

“I won’t kill him because you said not to but I hope someone else does it for me.”

“I’m not opposed to the idea.” You rolled your eyes, recalling the indignant way your boyfriend had been so wrong about everything. “I told him everything and repeated it and gave examples and he denied denied denied and ended up shoving me. Which again, his bad. That’s on him. But I was straddling my bike and he made me lose my balance and fall. I was over on Route 930 with the embankment on the side. And I fell down that son of a bitch.”

“Holy shit are you okay? I mean dumb question but nothing’s broken right?” He rushed out and touched your back and you winced again.

“Again.” You lean forward to meet his eyes. “I’ll show you but don’t get mad.”

“Sweetheart I’m gonna get mad at YOU. I swear.”

“If you swear.” You unzipped the hoodie to reveal the tank top you had on underneath as you slid it off your shoulders. “It’s on my legs and hips too but I’m not gonna take my pants off to show you. Sorry.” You smirk in the face of Eddie’s pitying gaze. “Turns out there’s cement down that thing. Who knew?” You laugh in an attempt to belittle the damage. He sees the bruises starting to age, the road rash on your back with a smattering of scratches and cuts.

“Did you go to the hospital?” He asked quietly, the concern he gave so freely made your chest hurt in a new way.

“No. Me and my first aid kit had a long night together. Wore me out.” another joke that finally made him frown, telling you you didn’t have to do that. “I couldn’t get the ones on my back in some places super well. But the shower and stuff cleaned them up.” You turned your head to see your shoulder.

“Christ.” He whispered, fingers governing over the irritated marks. “I’ve got a first aid kit. You need those cleaned.” It wasn’t a suggestion as he stood and was already walking to the bathroom. You were sitting on the couch watching him walk away with purpose before he realized you weren't behind him. “C’mon you don’t want those to get infected.” He motioned for you with his hand as you followed him into the bathroom without complaint.

You stood in front of the water speckled mirror, hands on the counter and eyes on him. He was so quiet and concentrated as you felt him lightly touch the wounds. He sighed and rubbed his forehead, the kit open and surprisingly full of stuff. You supposed it shouldn’t be a surprise, Eddie always tended to get too excitable and hurt himself. You guess that was still true about him.

It was quiet except for the hisses from you and the apologies from him for the pain. You were used to seeing him loud and boisterous, a young bull bucking back at society at large with his bold opinions and taste. You realized that both of you had changed. Maybe not so much outwardly. You’d both been on opposite ends of the high school spectrum but in private he was now capable of calculated movements and attention. The Eddie you knew before you derailed your friendship couldn’t do that. He was clumsy and oafish, limbs too long too quickly, and hormones raging that kept him from saying and doing what he meant. But he was 20 now, it was hard to believe. When you were younger you’d always wondered what he’d look like when he got older. You never saw his parents that you recall. You only remembered one day this rough and tumble skinny boy showed up at your neighbor Mr. Munson’s. And you’d been inseparable for years after that. But now he was grown. You both were. Childhood was nothing but a memory now. You pushed away the past to focus on the present as another sting crawled across your shoulder.

“I know. Sorry.” he whispered, tongue peeping out in concentration.

“I’m sorry too.” you let out an exhale, he felt your body bend under his hands as you hung your head.

“What the hell are you apologizing for?” it sounded harsh and his brow looked the same, but you didn’t feel any anger in him now. “You’re the one that’s gotten the short end of the stick here.”

“I don't mean for this.” you shook your head and raised it again, looking at him in the mirror. “I do a little, coming over here, messing up your night. It’s late, you’ve had a long day, the last thing you wanted to do was fight with me and play doctor.”

“Not the sort of playing doctor I’m used to.” he grinned, meeting your eyes in the reflection for a moment to make sure it made your face look less sad.

“I bet.” you chuckled and unlocked your elbows. “I mean for everything. All of it.”

“We don’t have to do this right now.” he stopped, a hand to your arm to look at you and not your reflection. “You’ve had one of the worst weeks of your life, you don’t have to add this to it.”

“Add it? So you did mean it when you said not to come crawling back to you crying.” you looked away, and he saw your eyes darken with hurt. “I thought…nevermind.” you whispered.

“Not like that.” he shook his head and pulled you to stand straight up by the shoulder. “It’s going to bring up a lot of stuff. A lot of emotions and you’ve had your fair share of them in the past few days. You’ve gotta be exhausted. I can patch you up and you can leave and knock out and sleep. You don’t have to fix all the world’s problems tonight.” he offered with a warm voice that drew an exasperated sigh from your tired body.

“I don’t deserve any of this.” you frowned and put your hands back on the sink counter, you couldn’t face him with his big kind eyes.

“No, you don’t. I mean you’ve been awful. I won’t lie to you. But I don’t think you deserve this.”

“No I deserve all this bullshit.” you let out a quiet but unhinged laugh that caught him off guard. “I meant this.” Your finger poked the counter as you met him again in the mirror, it felt easier that way. “You.” you looked away then as his face filled with pity for you. “You being nice to me after the shit I did.”

“I did shit to you too if you recall.”

“Not like I did you,” you whisper and he hears a sniffle he chooses to ignore, going back to working on your road rash. “I’m sorry. For all of it.”

“Thanks,” he answered quietly. “I’m sorry for the things I did too.”

“I started it.” you shook your head. “I should’ve believed you. You were the only one will the balls to tell me the truth.” you paused and winced at the burn of alcohol. “Still are. Now you’re all I’ve got.” the tears welled up in your eyes and he kept pausing his work, not knowing if he should comfort you or not. He was almost done. “Not that I’ve had anyone since you.” you barked out a mix of laugh and a sob. “This whole time I’ve acted like I’ve had everything and I’ve been the one with nothing. Alone in a room full of people. No love, no trust, no…” you broke into a sob.

“I’m almost done. Hold on.” he hurried his work, swabbing over the last bits of inflamed skin. The cotton was on the counter in a matter of 20 seconds, and in less than 2 he’d wrapped his arms around you. You refused at first, pushing him away weakly despite the tears running down your cheeks. You hadn’t cried in front of anyone since you were a child. You felt like a child. “Stop it. Stop being so mean to yourself.” he whispered as he forced you to his chest where a whine escaped you. He shushed you, a hand to the back of your head and one around your waist to avoid the newly cleaned scrapes on your back. “Let it out. I know this is a long time comin’.” He understood you. And you didn’t deserve the kindness. The acceptance of you at rock bottom, sobbing into an old friend's chest who should’ve told you to fuck off when you asked to come over.

But he hadn’t.

And here you were in his arms. You don’t know how long you cried, long enough to not know anything except the thrum of Eddie’s heart against his chest as you clung to it. The smell of laundry detergent and smoke in his shirt that was now soaked. The strength in those skinny arms that held you tight to him despite your fighting against it. You eventually tired yourself out again, your body no longer willing to give any more tears to the cause. You felt exhausted, nothing new, but also weirdly… peaceful. It was a foreign feeling that made you uncomfortable, you knew peace wasn’t to be trusted. It only meant you’d forgotten to be paranoid about something. You had sniffled and hiccuped enough for him to trust that you were through the worst of it.

“Oh God.” you groaned as you pulled away, snot and slick covering your face and his shirt. He only laughed at your embarrassment, but not in a condescending way. He reached for the box of tissues on the shelf and sat them in front of you where you quickly plucked a handful to clean your face. “I look like one of your D and D slime monsters” you let yourself chuckle as you swiped your face.

“A little.” he grinned as you blindly kicked at him with your foot, making him laugh. “You look like a woman who’s been through some shit and needed to have a good cry about it. And you are so… you’re good.” he said supportively.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” you asked outright. His honesty must’ve been rubbing off on you because you didn’t weigh the statement before it left your mouth.

“Because I care about you. That’s what people do when they care. They take care of each other.”

“But I’m a total piece of shit.” you groan, your face now slime free.

“This would be a lot different if you hadn’t shown me that there was still that girl I knew in there recently. You were burnt out of your life, suppressing your true self that long, that hard will kill you eventually.”

“I don’t have to worry about that anymore.” you said with a varied expression of raising and lowering brows on your face as you realized the implication of your statement.

“What about… your boyfriend?” he asked with a tilt of his head. You let out a loud laugh that caught him by surprise.

“No, no I dumped his ass before he did it to me.” you bent over laughing. “I knew it was coming. So I pulled that trigger first before he could be truthful about saying he left me.”

“Thatta a girl.” he smiled.

“I am completely removed from the royal court.” you sighed. “No cheer, no boyfriend, nothing. I cut it out all.”

“But you loved cheerleading.” your face shot to his, your face drawn into concentration at his observation.

“How did you know?” you shook your head.

“You’ll think I’m some creep but I mean…I kinda am so whatever I guess.” he shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck. “You have this smile that you make when you’re happy. And I mean actually happy, not faking it. You did it back in the day and you still do it now. It shows that chip in your tooth you got from chasing the animals around the woods. The only time I saw it was when you were cheering.” He saw tears well into your eyes again, and your bottom lip blubbed out. “Oh shit, I told you I’m a creep, I’m sorry I-” You almost knocked him on his ass when you lunged forward and wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him close. He felt a kiss on his cheek that made them blush rouge at the contact.

“You still remember that.” you choked out, happy tears for what might’ve been the first time in your life leaving your eyes with far less violence than the ones prior.

“Of course I do. I remember all that dumb shit you used to do.” you both laughed at that as his hands finally rest on your lower back to hold you.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t listen to you.” you whispered, pressing your head to his. “I know you know you were right but… fuck man, I’m just so fucking sorry.” you didn’t know how else to put it. You pulled back, bodies still close as you put his face into your hands. “You’re the best guy I’ve ever known.” you said so willingly it was his turn to feel the prickle of tears in his eyes.

“Oh c’mon…” he muttered and looked away.

“I mean it.” You said giving his head a small shake. “No one has remembered a single thing about me in years. No one thought about me when I wasn’t around. Or cared about me unless it served their purpose. But you’ve been here. Despite me being the fucking worst and you’re being so fucking kind to me now I don’t know how to process it because I’ve not had anything…nice in my life in so long.” you stepped back, realizing you might be acting a bit erratic. “I don’t know how to handle feeling…good. Happy.” you shook your head. “It makes me do things like grab you and scare you.” you blushed and looked away, leaving the warmth of him behind.

“Surprised. Not scared.” he clarified with a pointed finger and a blushing smile. “You’ve been with the wrong people. You know that. You’ve known it for a long time haven’t you?”

“So long it’s like I don’t remember being anyone else.”

“You… deserve people to be nice to you. You know that right? This version of you. That is honest and very human, deserves good things.”

“I don’t know if I believe that.”

“I’ll help.” he stepped forward and grabbed your hands. “We were best friends once. Me and this version of you. We were so close we were almost telepathic. We can do that again.”

“You’d still want me after all this?”

“Of course I do. Because it’s YOU. It’s not the queen bee, it’s not some jock’s girlfriend, it’s you. The real you. I’ve always wanted the real you around. It was that fake version that I hated. Not this messy… emotional… funny, smart complicated version of you. I’ve always liked her.”

“What if I don’t remember how to be her?”

“You already are you just don’t know it yet. Queen bitch wouldn’t be in my bathroom crying and apologizing to me. Or cracking jokes because she feels bad. Or giving ME compliments.”

“Fair point.” you finally cracked a wide smile. “I’m not used to gentle and kind. And that’s what you’re being. I can learn to be that again. I think. Especially if you’re around.” he had a crooked smile on his face at your attempts to be sincere.

“What I said back then…” he stepped in again, a hand to your cheek that was so warm it made you aware of how much your heart had already thawed in a few short days of not having to pretend to be someone else. “I didn’t mean it. Not really. Telling you to go. I didn’t want you to. I didn’t want to lose you and I knew I was and I was scared.”

“I was too.” you admitted with a wince. “I thought you meant it.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I was too young to know how to handle my emotions. Hell, I’m not great at it now.” he laughed, his thumb soft against your splotched cheek.

“Makes two of us.” you let out a noisy sigh, leaning into his hand. The physical comfort felt good. “It’s been so long since someone just…” you laughed but the shine of tears made another appearance. You put your hand over his. “Nicely touched me.” you whispered, a frown appearing, but bravely looking him in the eyes to see his understanding and upset for the fact.

“I can imagine.” he mirrored his hand with his other, and you clasped onto it too.

“In a way that I needed.” your voice was barely a whisper, letting him know admitting it was difficult. The awareness of the desperation you felt now that you were safe about the lack of human comfort you’d had in your formative years hit you. “Thank you.” you shut your eyes and took a deep breath.

“You don't have to thank me, sweetheart.” he leaned in and kissed your forehead and the saddest smile he’d ever seen was on your face as he pulled away.

“Could I…” you began with a cracked voice and tried again. “Could I stay? Tonight?” you sounded so small.

“You want to?” his head tilted like a confused puppy, not understanding the question fully.

“I don’t want to be alone. Not after this.” you give a faint smile and lean into his touch, your hands stroking his own, still on your face. “I’m not ready to give this up yet.” speaking with your eyes shut made it easier. “It’s too nice and I need it too much right now.” you winced before opening your eyes. “God, being honest is so fucking weird.” your eyes went wide as you snarled your lip in realization.

“It suits you.” there was an endearing charm to his smile that you’d forgotten about. The double dimples appear and pull memories into the forefront of your mind. “I don’t mind if you stay. That’s fine,” he added quickly with a nod. “Honestly keeping an eye on your would help ease my stress a bit.” he gave your cheeks a small pat, signaling he was letting go before he did. “And speaking of…” he stood up straight and stretched. “You came here for something didn’t you?”

“I got more than I came for.” you laughed and wiped your face.

“So let’s go back to that plan. I’ll smoke you up, my treat- stop it’s my own stash don't worry about it.” he held up a hand before you could say otherwise. “We’ll dig out an old movie you used to like and we can just be two old friends catching up. Leave all this heavy bullshit behind for the night. Sound like a plan?”

“You always had the best ideas.” you approved with a smile.

You did just that. After a few beers, a lot of weed, and hours later you were both happy and fuzzy as you giggled and stumbled your way to his bedroom.

“It’s so nice to just… enjoy being high.” you muttered as you sloppily removed your hoodie.

“You smoke all the time.” he pointed out laughing, pulling back his covers as you’d already decided to head to bed.

“Yeah, but I can’t relax around them you know? I gotta be on guard.” you put your fists up like you were gonna fight and it sent you both into a round of laughter. “But I don’t gotta do that with you Eddie. I can just say shit. Do shit. And not wonder if I’m gonna get shit for it.”

“I like it when you say and do shit.” he nodded with a dopey smile. “Without thinking.”

“Not using your brain is A+ highly recommend it.”

“HIGH-ly” he said as you both started laughing again. You noticed him pause and stare, going quiet before you stopped and looked back.

“What?” you asked, swaying slightly.

“Noth-you uh- I…” he stuttered and shook his head looking away. You looked down to see in your lack of thinking you’d started taking your jeans off.

“Oh shit! I’m sorry!” You jerked them back over your hips. “My brain said get ready for bed and I went on autopilot. I didn’t mean to make it weird man.”

“No, no.” he flapped his hands and stepped across the room a few steps. “We’re going to bed. It makes perfect sense. I was…” he stopped and grunted. “In the interest of being honest. I didn't expect to see you in your panties and it threw me the fuck off.” you started giggling and he was relieved.

“I can sleep in your sweats or something, dude. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. This is your place. You’re the one doing me a favor here.”

“No, we’re sleeping. It’s fine. I was…as you can tell from my behavior tonight I don’t act appropriately when I’m caught off guard. So…yeah.” he rubbed his face with both hands.

“You sure?” you asked before unsnapping a button.

“Yes. positive. I want you to be totally comfortable. If we’re gonna be friends we gotta get used to this shit again. It’s just…different now.” You both blushed as you tried to be as casual as possible about taking off your jeans.

“It is different.” you admitted as you slid into his bed and covered your lower half with blankets without trying to look rushed about it.

“We were like… kids back then. We’re… not now.”

“Also I had those awful pajama sets I wore.” you added with a laugh.

“True.” he grinned, skinning his shirt off and it was your turn to bite your lip and act like you weren’t bothered. He didn’t look like the guys you had hung around with.

“I dig the tattoos by the way.” you broke the silence as he stripped down his boxers.

“Fuck off.” he says playfully and it makes you both smile.

“I mean it!” you slap the bed with your hands.

“You’ve gone after the squeakiest of clean looking boys for years, you expect me to believe you like tattoos?”

“Yes.” you gave an almost headbang of a nod. “I didn’t date them because I wanted to or liked how they looked. It was just something I had to do.”

“You say the most devastating things so casually it blows my mind.” he let out a nervous chuckle, shaking his head as he switched off the overhead light and got into bed next to you.

“Honesty can be pretty devastating.” you nod with puckered lips looking nonplussed about the statement. “I’ve still liked a lot of the same stuff I used to, I just couldn’t say I did. Dating isn’t about love or attraction, it’s about power moves.”

“You sound like a scorned woman from one of my books.” he chuckled.

“I kinda am.” you laughed. “What’s that make you?”

“The court jester.” he said proudly.

“You’re more of a bard with the guitar and shit.” you motioned to the guitar hanging across the room.

“You remember what bards are?”

“Yes!” you rolled your eyes. “Like you said I’m still the same girl I just couldn’t act like I was. I remember the nerdy shit and I’ve partaken in the occasional book or movie when I was able to.”

“Secretly a nerd.” he tsked. “All this time.”

“Shut up.” you shove his shoulder.

“It’s nice you have you back.”

“It’s…nice to be back? I mean getting here was the drizzling shits but being here now with you and just talking and fucking around is very nice.” he laughed at your crude words again.

“You want the hall light on or need a night light?“ he asked looking around to see if he even had what he was offering.

“No, I like it dark.” You said with a content smile before shimmying down into the soft worn sheets.

“Nice. Me too.” He muttered turning off his lamp and swooshing the covers over himself dramatically causing the air to whoosh in your face and make you giggle. It was almost awkward, being back in his room together. But you felt contentment you hadn’t in years. The weed was certainly helping your likeliness of being happy right now.

“This is nice but also so weird. Right?”

“I was thinking the same thing.” He whispered with a laugh. “Having you back is like we time jumped or something.”

“I feel like I missed out on a lot of stuff.” You admitted.

“Like what? You’ve been super busy.”

“Busy with stuff I didn’t wanna do.” You groaned.

“Was there anything good that happened?” The length of pause you took to think answered his question. Then you let out a giggle that made his chest warm to hear.

“Lots of funny things happened. But I couldn’t laugh at the time. OH MY GOD!” You shouted turning to face him and sitting up on your elbow. He quickly did the same in anticipation. “You get to hear all the dirt on them now! I get to give you all the gossip.”

“Holy shit yes!” He shouted. “I want to know what those idiots are really like. Tell me everything.”

“They are just as incompetent as you claim they are. They couldn’t survive on their own. All their mothers treat them like they can’t wipe their own ass it’d be hilarious if it wasn’t so pathetic.”

“It’s still hilarious to me.”

“They’re dumb as shit. They get passing grades because they want them to play sports and their parents give donations to the school. It’s all fake.”

“Those mother fuckers. Giving me shit for being held back and they're the dumb ones.”

“You are so much smarter than they could even dream of being, Eddie.” You reached out to touch his arm. “You’re better in every way I can pretty much guarantee you that. I never minded your cockiness when it came to them because I knew you were right. I admired the balls it took to deal with them every day like you did and not crack.”

“Keep the compliments coming hun I’m loving this.” He laughed and hid his face for a moment.

“It’s true! You’re better than them. Not that you didn’t already know. But you are.”

“That’s a broad claim.”

“I would know. I mean… I know them far more intimately than I’d like to. You are by far funnier, smarter, more charming, hell, you’re cuter than any of them. And you have more personality than all of them put together. It’s like talking to a wet paper bag with them sometimes.” Eddie hid his face again as he laughed, his hand hitting the bed.

“I’m gonna get you high every night if you keep sweet talking me like this.” He let out a deeper chuckle, tucking his hair back and looking at you excited in the passive panels of moonlight that came through the curtains.

“I’ll gladly do this every night. This is so much fun. And it helps me so much. To be reassured that there are guys out there that aren’t cardboard cutouts of each other sharing one brain cell that gets passed around. Fuck it’s nice.”

“And I thought you were mean to me, damn.” He joked.

“I hate them. I don’t hate you. So of course I’m gonna give you all the insider details so you can make them cry with your rants.”

“Yes give me the real shit.” He wiggles closer and so did you. “I want to hit them where it hurts. Deep insecurities. Family secrets. I want it all.”

“Your wish is my command.” You cheesed and continued with an inner brightness that he was soaking up like a sponge. “Dylan? His sister is his mom. She had him so young they made up a whole lie to cover it up.”

“Holy shit.”

“Brandon still wets the bed and goes to therapy.” You tapped your finger on the bed. “Chrissy and Sarah both have eating disorders. But he’ll who doesn’t these days? I mean I had one for a while. But I don’t have to worry about that anymore!” You chirped at the good news. “Sully and Karen have been fucking in secret for god knows how long but her parents are super racist and won’t let them be together. Tina had an abortion. And my peach of an ex wiped his boogers on EVERYTHING. Any surface out of sight in his room? Disgusting.” You fake gagged.

“This is… I wanted it all but maybe some moderation this is a lot and I’m high as shit.” He let out a belly laugh in disbelief.

“Sorry I’ve never gotten to tell anyone the stuff I got on everyone to keep them in line.”

“How about we focus on that piece of shit ex of yours? I want to make him cry himself to sleep. What have you got?” He said with a cocky grin.

“He’s deeply insecure about his moles. He’s terrified he’s going to go bald like his dad. He refused to ever get fully naked. Not that I’m complaining about that.” You snorted out a laugh and leaned into Eddie. “I don’t think being naked would’ve helped that poor kid out anyway.”

“So he was bad in bed?”

“Such a bold question to a lady, Munson.” You gasped and clutched your chest as he guffawed at the insinuation that you acted like a lady at all.

“You brought it up. I wanna know so I can make my insults cut deep.”

“He can’t do anything deep if you know what I’m sayin’.” You wiggled one finger.

“I knew he wasn’t packing shit down there.”

“He’s… average I guess? “

“You guess?” He asked with humor but he was curious.

“Contrary to popular belief I’ve not slept with very many people.” You admitted a bit quieter. “I’ve seen plenty of dicks with the skinny dipping and their weirdly homoerotic tendency to whip it out to fuck with each other but up close? Not many. They didn’t deviate from each other much. Neither did the sex to be perfectly honest. You’ve probably slept with more people than me truthfully.”

“No fucking way.” He shook his head.

“Am I insulted or are you flattered?” You teased.

“I’m extremely flattered.” He let out a giggle.

“I know you and Melissa had a fling or something so I figured if you bagged her you were doing well for yourself.”

“You know about that?” His voice cracked and it sent you into a cackle.

“We all do you goober!”

“She was so embarrassed by me I figured she didn’t tell another soul.”

“Only takes one other person for the word to spread.”

“I didn’t fuck her, for the record. I don’t know what you heard.”

“Nah you just fingered her. Or that’s what she said.” You shrugged.

“You are so casual about this.” He said a bit taken aback.

“Well, sex has never really been a topic that’s scared me. Probably because it never meant much ya know?”

“I don’t actually.” He quieted and tilted his head.

“Alright if we’re gonna be friends I suppose I should just be honest.” You shrug. “Sex is a weapon. Was… a weapon. I used it to get what I want. It was transactional. I let them paw and hump for 4 minutes and my job’s done. Letting them think they did something for their fragile egos and I’m out of there. So talking about it is like talking about… sports. They did this, he did that and it was over and that was the game.”

“Again…” he began slowly. “Devastating words and you say it like it isn’t.”

“How is that devastating?” Your wrinkled nose was adorable to him but he felt bad for you. “You didn’t fool around with Melissa to get something on her to use against her? Like a security measure so she didn’t do something bad to you?” He let out the strangest laugh. It made you lean forward and study his face.

“No.” He shook his head. “I kinda weirdly liked her.” He saw that it didn’t register on your face. You blinked and your confusion didn’t move. “You probably know but I’ve… fingered a handful of cheerleaders.”

“Fingered a handful.” You giggled. “Phrasing.” You joked.

“Okay yeah, I should’ve seen that coming. But there’s the whole, bad boy schtick and forbidden fruit stereotype and I did know none of their boyfriends were doing it for them so they cozied up to me in private to get a taste of what it was like to be with the guy from the wrong side of the tracks. Be a little rebellious to secretly stick it to daddy or their shitty boyfriends.”

“This does not surprise me but I did not know it was so many.”

“But some acted like they liked me to get me to do it. Which is why I did it in the first place. After it happened twice I was like okay I see what’s happening here. And it was more… transactional. A hand job or a blow job is still nice whether you like the person or not and well… it made me feel good to make them feel good. They couldn’t take that away from me. So there were feelings to some degree involved. I talked to them, listened, and asked what they liked. Even if there wasn’t romance there I still treated them like they were people.” You didn’t respond for a bit, he saw your face shifting in thought.

“I’ve…” you frowned finally at your realization. “I’ve never done that.” You confessed.

“Liked someone?”

“I mean I’ve had a crush but anyone I’ve slept with? No.” The silence sat between you as he tried to not wrap you up and apologize for the life you’d had. Or the life you’d not had. “Come to think… if that’s what you do when you like someone I don’t think any of them liked me either.”

“Sweetheart I-“

“I knew they didn’t.” you dismiss with a wave before he felt too sorry for you “I knew they didn’t care about me. Because you see sex in movies and it’s when people care about each other. They kiss and touch and say nice things. It’s not a teeth-hitting kiss, a grope, and then in and out. I know that sex can be like that. Or that’s what I’ve heard. But I wasn’t sold on the idea. I mean no one’s even made me cum before so why would I expect something as extra as an emotional connection? That seemed like too much to expect.”

“These guys are worse than I even imagined.” He groaned and you felt his head bang into the mattress. “Did they even try to get you off?”

“At some point, they'd try to finger me but they didn’t know what they were doing and I didn’t care enough to explain so I’d pull that, oh I want you so bad I don’t wanna wait.” You faked a lusty voice that made his neck feel hot. “And got it over with.”

“But you’ve… had an orgasm before right?”

“Oh, tons!” You laughed. “But all by myself.”

“Well… at least there’s that?”

“I love sex if we’re talking about that.” You laughed. “Or I love orgasms so if sex involved those then yeah I’d probably be as big of a slut as people say I am.” That one did make him laugh.

“I’ve always liked to think of sex as a way to show someone you care about them.”

“That’s sweet.” You didn’t mean to sound so dismissive. It was a sweet idea.

“Or it’s about connecting with someone else physically and emotionally at the same time instead of having them be two separate things.”

“So you do like sex?” He honked out a laugh that made you feel shy about your question.

“Yes. BIG fan.” He nodded.

“So you’ve had that… sweet sort of sex before?” You spoke quietly again as if you were younger and asking him something risky about being older.

“Yeah.”

“What….” You stopped and sighed, not knowing if you should ask. It must’ve been obvious.

“Go ahead.” He rubbed your arm to calm you down.

“What was it like?”

“You want a play-by-play or what are you asking exactly?” He genuinely asked and it made you second guess your intention.

“I’m afraid my real question is too sad.” You admitted.

“With what you’ve told me so far it probably is. BUT I’m here to help! I meant that. I know now you’ve been through some… quite frankly fucked up shit. I want you to know what life can be life-should be like. So don’t feel like you can’t ask me something.”

“You’re too sweet.”

“Dentists hate me.” He joked to lighten the mood and it worked.

“I guess… I’ve not had that before. That connection.” He has to lean in to hear your shy words of admission. “What’s it like to have someone care about you like that?” He doesn’t patronize you, he holds back his cooing and babying.

“I mean… you do now.” He offered. “I care about you. I like you. I feel like we’ve connected a lot the past few weeks, especially tonight.”

“I never thought of that. Yeah.” He saw something like a spark of hope in your face. “I care about you too. I Like you. All that stuff you said.” You bashfully smiled. “I’m new to this.” You mumbled and rolled to your back and let out a frustrated sigh. “What’s it like to have sex where you want the other person? “ your raspy questions asked to the darkness and not his face, he frowned at your loss. “And they want you. And you care about each other and treat them special and take the time to make each other feel good? I swear it’s like I can’t fathom it realistically. It’s so removed from my experience that I just…” you rest your hands on your stomach, the covers to your waist as you turned your head toward him.

It was like he had dug down into your inner layers to find you just as worried and scared as everyone else. It was raw and vulnerable and he loved you for it. He loved that you were able to access it and verbalize it for him. He loves that you trusted him with your most shameful questions. He had so many things he wanted to say. To promise. To do.

“I’m realizing now just how deprived of basic human decency I’ve been.” It was deadpan delivery but brutally honest.

“Yeah, you have been.”

“It’s better to know than not know.” You rubbed your forehead.

“Most people are awful. So as far as that goes you’ve mastered dealing with most people.”

“God, you’re so smart.” You say with wide eyes and no hint of it being a joke. “ I tell you something that makes me feel bad and you know how to make it sound not awful.”

“I don’t know about that.” He flushed deeply and looked away with a fidgeting nose.

“And you’re cute when you get embarrassed by compliments.” You layered on the praise again to your gift of a friend next to you.

Another stutter where he shoved your side softly in retaliation.

“This is about you. Not me.” He deflected.

“We’re gonna be here a long time if we’re trying to fix my problems.” You grinned.

“Lucky for you I’ve got nowhere else I’d rather be.” You kept surprising him, reaching out to touch his face with the back of your hand. He had his girl back, and he hadn’t wanted to admit it to himself but he’d missed you.

“No one’s ever told me that before.”

“They should.” He insisted so harshly with quiet words that it made you smile, parting the sadness and making room for something better.

“Eddie?” He felt something in his chest as his name passed your lips into the darkness to caress his ears.

“Yeah?”

“I wanna know what it’s like.” He knew what you meant. But he didn’t want to believe it. He’d always seen through the words you chose and felt your meaning under them.

“What what’s like hun?” He took your hand into his own, scooting closer to look down at you.

“You’ve made me realize a lot tonight. I’ve missed out on the real things. And I want to know what it’s like to feel good. To be happy.” You sighed out a whisper. “And I know we care about each other. I didn’t remember what caring about someone else felt like and it’s so much. It feels nice. And I have such a… fucked up, as you said, view of sex. And if simply remembering what it’s like to feel cared for without sex is this good then I know I don’t even have anything to compare to how good real sex could be. Which is a little scary.” he could see the wetness of your mouth shining in the cool light as it opened but no sound came out as you tried to find your words. “And if I feel so safe with you… and we care about each other… which is the vital component that’s missing in my life so I thought maybe…” he still had to let go of your hand. It gave away that he knew what you were suggesting. “You’re going to make me say it aren’t you?” You smiled and it broke the worry across your face.

“I thought talking about sex wasn’t hard for you?” He grinned but it was kind, leaning down to kiss your knuckles as you let out an audible sound of emotion from the simple act. Neither of you was sure if it was pain, arousal, or confusion.

“If it’s not with you it is.” As smooth of an answer as you could’ve given. “If I don’t care about it.” You emphasized. “Then It’s easy to talk about.”

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea sweetheart.” He tried to hide the hesitancy on his face. “You’ve been through a lot in a very short amount of time. I don’t know if adding this to it right now would be… helpful.” He didn’t shy away from you, he rubbed his hand over yours, still clasped in his other. He was being attentive and supportive and you felt a new inner turmoil at not getting what you wanted from someone. You weren’t sure how to feel about it. Because you were sure about your suggestion.

“Okay.” You have a single nod and he heard an audible swallow from you. “Honesty time again.” You huffed out and squeezed his hand. “Do you want to have sex with me at all? In any capacity? I should’ve asked that first.” He laughed and you hadn’t expected it.

“Oh, you’re serious. Shit, sorry. The idea that I wouldn’t want to is so out there I thought you were just making a weird joke.”

“I mean I might not be your type. Or you could not be attracted to me.” You suggested.

“Babe.” He leaned in over you and smirked. “You know you’re hot. I don’t have to tell you that.”

“That’s just an opinion though. And you’re different from everyone else and if everyone else thinks that then you might not.”

“I do.” He nodded and laughed. “You don’t have to worry about that. Trust me.”

“Then next question. Or not a question but a… counterargument.” You said with brighter eyes. “I think the distraction would be nice. I think we would have fun and both enjoy it and honestly, an orgasm would be great right now. It’d mellow me the hell out. And getting off and going to sleep sounds like a perfect way to end the night.”

“I disagree with none of that. But I don’t want you to regret it later. Emotions are high, I don’t want you to act too quickly. And when you have sex with someone you care about… other things happen that you've not had to worry about before.”

“Like what?”

“Taking feelings into account. If you aren’t dating then there are questions as to what you are if you’re sleeping together. Or what you’re not. And someone could get feelings and someone wouldn’t reciprocate them. Feelings are messy. And as much as it feels like I’ve known you forever, because, in a way I have, this is still new. And I don’t even know how I feel so I can’t expect you to know how you feel about any of it yet.”

“It is so fucking nice to have someone just tell me what they’re thinking and not have to constantly second guess their motives or thoughts.” You give his hand another squeeze. “So I’ll do the same to you. I’m not as confused as you think I am. I was tired of the life I had for a long time. Letting it go is a relief. And I don’t have any interest in going back to my old Life no matter how this whole scandal plays out. And I can't promise you anything when it comes to what I will or won’t feel in the future so I won’t. But if I did get feelings for you, you don’t have to worry about me not telling you. Or be ashamed of you like those other girls were. I’d be lucky to have you. I’ve always cared about you and I only care more after today. And right now you’re my best friend. I know that. I don’t expect that to change. And I know feelings are messy, that’s why I’ve avoided them for so long. And if you don’t have those feelings for me then that’s fine too. At least we’d know. And if you did then we could date. And if I didn’t get romantic feelings for you then I’d still be willing to be around because it’s more than that with you. It’s always friends first.”

“Your ability to look inside my head and address my worries is uncanny. And impressive.”

“I had to learn to read people and think of every angle. It’s helpful.” You take the compliment casually. “My brain works fast. And it’s not like it’s the first time I’ve ever thought about us like that.”

“Care to elaborate on that?” He grinned

“I cover all angles. Like I said. And with our history, I’d considered what it would be like to be with you before. In case I needed to or wanted to. Or for nefarious reasons beyond my control that we won’t get into right now to bum us out.” You chuckle.

“It’s not the first time I’ve thought about it either.” He admitted.

“Really?”

“I hate to admit it but when I’d have to see you in your cheer uniform-“

“Oh god really? That did it for you?” You teased.

“It’s very little clothing in my defense.” He held up a hand in surrender. “And you do your dances and the splits and your flips and it’s like a peep show out there.”

“You’re not wrong.” You said supportively. “I felt the same seeing you play. That was… awakening. Even though the idea was planted years ago, to be honest.”

“When did I play years ago that did it for you?”

“It wasn’t that, I just had a big fat crush on you when I was younger.”

“Shut the fuck up.” He let out a teasing groan.

“I did!” you giggled. “You were older and nice and paid attention to me. That’s all it took.” You laughed and hid your face. “Then you started growing out your hair and playing electric guitar and you were so cool.”

“You’re pulling my leg now.”

“I swear. I didn’t say anything because I figured you thought I was just some annoying kid. You didn’t see me that way.”

“I didn’t…” he shook his head and hesitated.

“It was that summer wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.” He nodded.

“Something changed that summer between us. And not just because I was hanging with those other guys.”

“Yeah you suddenly weren’t that scrawny kid anymore and you looked like you were my age and it messed with my head. Because your personality was good, you just weren’t old enough and then I turn 15 and my brain is horny nonsense and you’re all… hips and tits and also into the same shit I am. It was confusing.”

“That makes sense.”

“So I was a little jealous. But I wasn’t going to do anything about it and I was mad at myself over it so it was easier to push you away than deal with it.”

“Easier to hate each other than admit it was the opposite.”

“I knew you’d get it.”

“You don’t have to be jealous anymore.” You smiled with a 1000-watt power behind it. “I’ve ditched those other guys for you. You’ve got me here in your bed. Alone. Asking you to have sex with me. It doesn’t get better for 15-year-old you than that.”

“He’d be ecstatic. He’d have come in his jeans already.” You shared a laugh.

“Hopefully you don’t have that in common with him.”

“You’re serious about this aren’t you?” he shifted and jutted his chin forward, studying you as you nodded. “And you’re sure?”

“I am.”

“And this isn’t going to ruin things between us? End this before it even starts? You’re not gonna freak out and leave me hanging again?”

“Promise. I’m all yours. I don’t wanna leave. This is where I’m supposed to be. Always has been.” he saw the brief sadness in your eyes for the life that could’ve been. But the way you gave him an apologetic smile, it filled his chest with a warm and fuzzy feeling of hope.

“Already knew you were gorgeous. Didn’t know you could be so sweet too.” His voice phased into something different. Deeper, full of intention. “And also smart and funny and lots of other good things.” He blurted out as he scoot his body next to yours. Your hand now freed and sliding under him. “I don’t want you to think that I just think you’re pretty. You are you’re… I can’t believe I get to touch you to be embarrassingly honest but I know that’s something guys have told you so many times it probably means nothing now. But it means something to me. And I don’t want you to think this is just about me getting to be physical with you. Or claim some ownership over you or the shit that guys have done before. I want you to know you’re more than pretty. You aren’t one note. You’re complicated and interesting. I can’t have sex with your personality though.” He chuckled. “I just… I’m rambling now but I want you to know I think you’re gorgeous but that’s not all I think about you. So when I say something about how you look when we get into this that’s not all I see in you.”

“You’re going to make it hard for me to not fall in love with you saying things like that, Munson.” You touched his face softly, trying out something new as you traced his jaw and landed on his full lips.

His mouth opened and closed like a fish in his shock at your words and the tender way you touched him, fingertip tracing his mouth. You didn’t want to purposely fluster him but he wanted you honest. He just hasn’t expected you to be SO honest. At a loss for words he stalled, not knowing how to move forward from here, more words jumbled in his head wondering if they should be said before he continued. You took his attention and focused him with a soft touch and words, giving him the answer to his current dilemma.

“You can kiss me now Eddie. If you want.” You filled the silence and gave him something to focus on. A small nod before his bambi eyes shifted and he turned his total attention to you. You leaned your body towards him as his hand hovered over you trying to figure out where to land. It was awkward but not the sort you were used to. You were used to guys being try-hards. They laid on their so-called moves and it was embarrassing to watch. That was bad awkward. But this… this was good. You saw him think and worry- which was something you’d not seen a guy do up close very many times- about where to touch you because, to him, it mattered. Something as simple as the placement of his hand was so important to him that he took the time to look you over and make a proper decision. You watched his eyes dart about, minuscule twitches of his face as he thought. A jaw clenched, a swallow. When he decided on your cheek you were taken out of your head for a moment by the warmth and sincerity of his eyes meeting yours. He nudged himself against you, settling so he could properly kiss you. He hadn’t even touched his lips to yours and yet he had already outdone any guy you’d been with before. An odd feeling moved in your stomach as he took his time to capture your attention, to stroke your hair back, to look over your face as if it was the first time he’d seen it. Then slowly, painfully so he gently put his lips to yours. Small, soft, simple. A press.

After such a lingering build it felt like so little to be given. When your eyes bat open he was barely pulled away smiling at the confused look on your face.

“I wanna go slow with this okay? And you can tell me no or to stop at any time and I will.” The confusion stayed on your face. You’d never had anyone give you the option before. “Don’t oversell it either. I want you to make noise only if you want to, not to make me feel better. I don’t need the ego boost like those other guys.” He chuckled, flipping his hair to one side and a smell of piney shampoo waft over you. “I want you to tell me when you want things. If you want things.” He corrected. “This is new for you so I’m not going to judge you or make fun or something okay?” Now he was growing confused that you still wore your creased brow. “You can tell me if somethings wrong you know.” He insisted with a nod, his hand went back to stroking your cheek, trying to offer comfort in a small way.

“Nothing’s wrong. I’ve just never had anyone say things like that before.” You shrugged subtly and shook your head the same.

“I was afraid of that.��� He confessed with pursed lips. “We’ll take it slow. Like I said. Talk to me, and let me know that you’re feeling good. If I’m too fast, too hard, tell me. This isn’t about me. This is about you. You’re not gonna hurt my feelings if you tell me I’m doing something wrong. I don’t know your body, I’m not going to get everything right the first time by chance.” He gave a throaty laugh that eased your newly found nerves about sex. You were starting to wonder if you’d ever had it at all.

“I might…” you winced your lip and swallowed audibly. “I might need some help with the talking. I’m used to dirty talking but not actually… telling of things.”

“Then I’ll ask you now and then if you’re good. That work?” A quick enthusiastic nod made his eyes crinkle with happiness at the sight as he kissed your cheek. “Focus on me and what feels good. Don’t think too much. You don’t have to be worried about anything anymore alright? This isn’t a power move or whatever you called it.” He grinned when you giggled at his choice of words. “This is just two people who care about each other, making each other feel good. That’s all. So relax and enjoy it.”

“I’m gonna try.” You answer sheepishly. “I’m not used to being inexperienced.” You admit. “Makes me nervous.”

“Nothing to be nervous about. You’re not performing. You’re just laying there looking pretty.” He added supportively. “And you’re killing it by the way.” He brushed his nose to yours and you felt a jerk in your stomach as a new sort of giggle bubbled out of you. Were you blushing? Your face was warm. Wait- We’re you just…giggling? That was an involuntary sound you just made. Your face grew warmer, embarrassed a guy had made you feel something. You judged yourself from the inside. But watching him beam down at you with nothing but adoration on his face reminded you that this was the whole point. You were allowed to feel now. So you let yourself gulp and sigh, shifting your legs together and snuggling down into the sheets.

“I’m ready.” You whispered. It wasn’t entirely convincing but your bitten lip and nod as you bravely met his eyes told him you were ready to try.

He hovered again, and this time with more confidence he planted his lips to yours. That queasy feeling in your stomach returned as you focused like he told you to. His lips were warm and plump. Fuller than the other guys you’d kissed. A press separated with a sweet quiet sound of disapproval from your lips as if they wanted to be together. One gentle round of parting and pressing turns to another. Then another. He was slow and thorough. Unrushed as he let it build between you. You’d never noticed if someone was a good kisser or not. You’d never kissed anyone long enough on the mouth to know for certain. By now it would be to your neck or chest or over already. He kissed you breathless, having to break with ghosted mouths just to get air. Then he brought you together again- your lips circles and now tongues a perfect ven diagram as the heat bloomed across your skin.

He felt your body tense, worried for a moment before he felt you push back against him with subtle eagerness. He took it as a signal of permission as he angled his head and opened his mouth to tangle his tongue with yours. A sound you’d never heard before crawled secretly out of your throat, a hand raised to hold his bicep as the flood of warmth began to wash over your body. Your breathing quickened. You didn’t know a kiss could make you breathless. You had lost track of how long he’d indulged your oral fixation by indulging his own. A kiss had never drawn anything from you. Not a moan or a sigh. Certainly never compelled your body to act on its own, your hands now touching his skin chilled from the air of the room. You felt his hair tickle your face and fingertips. You felt torn. There was a feeling of deep satisfaction to be had in the simple act. Alongside it grew something impatient and greedy. Want.

You wanted more.

You’d never wanted a man to touch you more. A burn between your thighs had started. You didn’t know how to ask. The thought of letting out what would surely be a pathetic rasp of ‘more” seemed embarrassing. So you did what you knew better than talking and showed him. On another press and suck of lips and tongue you purposely move your arms up to encase him and pull him closer. Not purposely you whine pitifully into the embrace as he reads your signal loud and clear- his arm moving down your body to hold your waist and pull your body closer.

Then your spark turned into a flame.

Desperation was thick like the saliva shared between nearly panting tongues. You ventured boldly into the mass of curls that were oh so much softer than they looked. You did as he had to you and held the side of his face as he lay over you. Your hands had their own plans, finding their way to his back to feel the slender frame almost on top of you now. With the grasping of his naked torso and the way more hungry sounds left you, he ventured forward boldly to put his hand under the covers and touch the bare skin of your hip. A moan he ate up with his own left as soon as the sear of his palms touched you. A little faster than he would liked to he grabbed the meat of your ass, clad in soft cotton and pulled you in a way that made your knee raise to try to wrap around him. You weren’t feeling as timid as he expected by the way you returned the favor to grab his ass back. Your hand clapped for a moment, causing him to break the kiss to find you yanking the covers that had been pinned between you and keeping you apart.

“Fuck these blankets.” You muttered as he couldn’t help but let out a laugh at your annoyed face. The sound distracts you as he helped finish the task and kissed your cheek.

“You’re so cute when you get all worked up like that.” He whispered into your ear and your body responded with goosebumps exploding over your skin. He hoisted you by the hip to bring it over his. “This what you wanted?” He made a checkpoint as your chest rising and falling so fast was a good tell he was doing his job.

“Mmm hmm.” So small with your nod and bitten, swollen lips. “I wanted more of you touching me.” It came out much less dizzied than you felt. You were proud of the ability to speak for yourself amid a make-out that was changing your point of view on sex entirely.

He managed to look smug without seeming condescending. Another first for you.

“Telling me what you want…” a more sinister grin spread as he kissed your jaw, pressing your head to the side. “That was perfect, baby.” A kiss on the shell of your ear as his deepened voice cooed into it made you shudder. You knew he had to feel it. Hear it when you opened your mouth with a tiny gasp at the words of praise. “That’s my good girl.” He pat your ass and nuzzled into your hair. Two words you weren’t sure had ever been said to you sent your heart fluttering in your chest. Your face looked disgusted by it, but that couldn’t have been farther from the truth.

You’d never been good. Certainly not a good girl and definitely not someone’s- his good girl. It made 13-year-old you pining for your cool neighbor squeal in delight. A whimper left your throat as you exhaled shakily, taken aback by how hard soft words could hit. “You liked that didn’t you?” You didn’t have to see the smirk to know it was there. Your nose wrinkled and lips scrunched together in a playfully angry face- unable to be angry and truly, not wanting to be.

“Yes.” Was gritted out before a breathy laugh left you, a push of a kiss landed on your cheek, his arms squeezed you tight against him.

“Don’t be embarrassed. It turns me on to know what turns you on.” Another sentence to make you question how he wields the power to make your eyes roll back on command like that. Maybe he did know magic like the rumors said. You certainly felt bewitched.

“It’s hard to admit when something -someone… you affects me.” You swallowed. “And you are…. very much affecting me, Munson.” A smile you didn’t plan spread like wildfire across your face as the charm oozed from his pores with two darling dimples making an appearance.

“It’s been so long since I’ve been so… affected too sweetheart.” He admitted with a shake of his head, his hair bigger and messier from your hands playing in it. You loved the way it looked on him. “You’ve got me so fuckin hard.” It was more of a statement, an observation meant to be flattering on his behalf. So when you snarled, a sharp inhale and a moan before crashing yourself against him again he was surprised for a second before it was quickly lost among the ever-consuming thoughts of you.

Something more desperate grew within you, tongues talked outside of mouths and lapped at swollen lips. You pulled his hair back to see a handsome jawline that you attacked with your mouth. Your hand traveled, feeling his taught stomach and chest, feeling the groan vibrate through it when your kisses made their way to his throat. You nipped his collarbones, feeling feral and acting on instinct for the first time. You wanted to sink your teeth into him but refrain. Instead, you let your mouth share one of the thoughts pinging around your skull as your hands felt him up.

“You’re so- ugh- sexy Eddie.” You murmured, voice distorted as your tongue covered a spot you’d bitten. Then he moaned. A beautiful sound. You’d never heard a guy openly let a moan out that wavered and whined. There was no brute grunt and groan to it. It was like a song. Light and airy and honest into the dark of the room as his head knocked to the side and you played with him. “You sound so pretty.” You smiled against his neck.

“P-pretty?”

“Your moans.” You whispered into his ear and he shuddered, a whine when your nails grasped into his back. “I want more.” You asked nicely, a hand he didn’t expect, landing on his cock. He jumped and to your surprise grabbed you by the wrist. You shot back to see his face, worried you’d done something wrong.

“This is about you.” He shook his head. “Not me.” He huffed out a laugh as he cleared his head with squinted eyes.

“And I want you.” You answered back quickly and certainly. It felt so good to hear it. Especially in a voice so needy.

“You’ll get me if you want me.” He nodded, a promise as he moved you back by your hip to put you back into your back. “But I’ve gotta make you cum first.”

“But- “ your eyes darted between his gorgeous face and his hand resting on your lower stomach. “I thought I might do that when we had sex?”

“You will.” Something so cocky bubbled up in his demeanor that you glared a little. But only because you liked it. You’d never seen him like that. He was so self-assured it felt like a challenge. But it was a promise instead. You weren’t used to guys keeping their promises. But the understated way he held himself in confidence in the confines of the bubble between you told you he’d be the one to keep them to you. “I want to focus on you first. You’re so used to doing things to the other person I want you to know what it’s like.” His hand ran up your front slowly as he spoke. “I want to make you feel good, baby.” He whispered, again over you with you trembling beneath him. “Can I do that?” You gave another enthusiastic nod that made him smile every time he saw it. “Can you use your words for me?”

“You can. Yes. I… you’re right.” You settle back and chew your lip as he slows down, a kiss to your temple.

“Can I touch you?” There was something sickeningly sweet about the question and you couldn’t put your finger on it at the moment but it made you smile.

“Of course.” You nod, bumping your nose into his. “I want you to touch me.” You clarified as you knew he wanted. You’d never wanted to do things to make the other person like you. Make them approve of you.

“Using your words again. Good girl.” Oh right. That might be why you wanted to do what he said.

Your lashes fluttered and you let your eyes close at the end of a heavy exhale at the words showing him you were ready to focus. Since you’d gone for his neck he figured you might like that yourself. He found his theory correct when you let your head fall to the side and gave him your throat willingly. He started sweet to build you back up again, more than happy to take his time and make this last as long as possible. He kept his hands tight to your body never venturing above your ribs as he nursed at the curve of your neck. Your hand held to the back of his head to keep him close. Once he was satisfied that you had relaxed again, head swimmy and distracted, his kisses traveled to your collarbones first, still gentle but firm. After a trek from shoulder to shoulder his lips found yours again. Brought out of a lovely daze you kiss him back. You hum and smile into his kisses, biting his bottom lip or sucking it noisily until you giggle. You felt like you’d smoked again. A bit high on intimacy. The comfortable headspace was broken when a large hand finally intruded onto the space of your chest. His kisses were almost enough to distract you from it. Almost. With the way your body was responding in ways you hadn’t experienced before any touch to an area as sensitive as your nipples was sure to be noticed. With each step forward he worried it would be met with hesitancy. He was too caught up in your past to consider you’d left it and were very focused on the present. You were yet to confirm those thoughts as his gentle grope drew a small muffled noise, caught between your kneading lips. Your enthusiasm drove him forward, thumb brushing over your already hard nipple, a shift of your hips and an accompanying grunt show your approval. When he felt your nose twitch against his, still occupied in a heated makeout, he pinched and rolled the hard bud as it begged for more attention from his hands. The next level of moan began as a wobbly sound left your mouth as it parted against his.

“Good?” a rhetorical question really but he wouldn’t break his promise of checking in on you frequently.

“Can’t you tell?” you breathed a soft laugh against him before pushing him away to sit up and strip your tank top off and fall back into the bed leaving him in awe at the sight of you laid out beneath him.

“You’ve always been impatient.” a smile slowly grew on his face as he realized he needed to do something besides stare.

“Some things never change.” you give a breath laugh, settled back onto a pillow, and rub his bicep before taking his hand and putting it back onto your chest.

“Please tell me these… two beautiful girls have gotten enough attention over the years. I don’t think I could handle it if they were neglected all this time.” his eyelids seemed heavier now, half open as he kissed the weight of your chest, his nimble fingers already tweaking your sensitive nipple again.

“Not as much as they deserve.” you smirk, running your hand over his hair as he cuddled up to your face first.

“They deserve monuments built to them, sweetheart.” he placed a kiss to the center. “You’ve had them sucked on before right?” his face was toward your body, nose nuzzling and throat humming at the impossible softness as the tip of his nose grazed toward your other nipple but his eyes found yours as he asked.

“Not as much as I’d like.”

“You like it?” a hopeful smile appeared before being broken by his tongue lapping out over the popping centerpiece.

“Sometimes it’s like my nipples have a direct line to my clit. I can feel it down there when they’re touched up here.” your fingertips ghosted over his manipulating hand and down your body. He groaned at the effect the combination of words and action had on him. He didn’t make you wait, mouth greedy with his hesitancy being forgotten the more of you he got to see and explore. The hungry sounds and the tense hands holding you down fogged up your brain deliciously, letting you bask in the enjoyment. You let yourself be pleasured, head back, eyes closed, mouth slack as he pressed his hard hips to your side, mouth open as it panted for the opportunity to taste your skin, seeking out the other side. “That feels so good, Eddie.” you sighed and he grunted at the sound of his name in praise. “You can suck harder.” Immediately he followed your instruction drawing a moan from you, your legs shifting feeling him hard against you. “Yeah, like that.” you whined, looking down at him to find him already watching you. He gave a small bite and you yipped before dissolving into a squealed giggle and wrinkling your nose playfully. “You can be a little rough, I like it.” you whisper as you watch his eyes roll back into his head, his nose mashed into you. He gave your nipple not inside his mouth a twist and you moaned, legs parting involuntarily and circling to find some friction. After he had you whimpering, a mouth-watering sound, every breath a whine as you pouted and begged with your eyes first. “I want you to touch me. I can’t take much more of this teasing or I’m gonna do it myself.” it was meant to be a little funny, as unserious was a very comfortable place for you to land in with him. You frowned at the disappearance of his hand before you felt it travel farther south, cupping you over your panties. “Yes.” you nod and chew your bottom lip as he pops off your nipple with swollen lips.

“Tell me what you want, baby.” he asks quietly, his voice thick and deep. The pet name made you audibly sigh.

“I know ‘you’ isn’t an answer you’ll accept but fuck, Eddie.” you groan as a broad grin grows across his face, lighting him up from the inside out. “I’ve never been this turned on before.” you laugh and hide your face. He moves them gently, kissing your cheek and then your lips as you give him unintentionally sad eyes. They weren’t there to manipulate someone for the first time, you didn’t know what you were doing, acting purely on instinct.

“How about I start with showing you what someone using their hands on you should feel like.” he brushed his nose to yours and you welled up inside with emotion. You wanted to scream, the lack of control over how he was making you feel was almost overwhelming. Every inch of your skin wanted his touching it. Your clit could be felt when you rubbed your thighs together, a hot slick you didn’t know you could create already seeping through your panties. It was even better than he’d made it sound.

“Please.” a quick nod as you licked your lips in anticipation.

“You’re asking so nicely.” a deep condescending chuckle left him, he couldn’t help it. He had you in his bed wiggling and writhing, begging with wet eyes. He had earned being a little cocky about it. He was about to earn being downright smug. Eddie knew he was good with his hands. It was what he was known for. Guitar or pussy, he was your man if you wanted the job done right.

“I’m trying. I feel a little out of it.” you laughed into his kiss.

“Just wait.” he bit your bottom lip and your hips shimmied with excitement as you slid your panties off and they were tossed to the darkness of his room with your tank top. He laughed at your excitability, eyes bright even in the dark. The light from outside was enough to see the shapes and shadows, with slats of brightness scattered about. To settle you he ran his strong hands up and down your inner thighs to spread them until they knocked open without resistance. His kisses kept traveling a well-loved path from your lips to your neck and back again as he worked you dizzy with his fingers. He moved as if he’d been there before, slipping between your lips and with a few teasing passes finding the beacon that made you gasp on contact. “Tell me what you do when you touch yourself?” a question that made you shudder as circles around your clit made your face wince and shift.

“Think of you?” you giggled, nuzzling into him when he bit your earlobe at your response. “I uhm-” you began trying to concentrate while he touched you, showing him you would answer him seriously. “I tend to favor the left side. Up and down?” your voice inflected as if you didn’t know. “It’s hard to concentrate when you’re touching me like this.” you admit softly as he works away at the muscles in your neck with his mouth. “The…arch is really sensitive, like the peak… the - shit, yeah there.” your voice goes hoarse. “I switch up what I do, but when I’m close I like to keep doing the same thing so I don’t lose it.” you managed to get out with breaks of moans and gasps.

“And you said you wouldn’t be able to tell me anything. I’ve got you singing like a little bird.” he hummed into your ear, a kiss following.

“I want more of it, you found a way to get me to talk.” you giggled, wrapping your arm tighter around him, your hand stroking up and down his bare arm to feel the flex of his muscles as he rubbed expertly. You let your body do what it wanted with no judgment. Your feet began to push into the bed, your hips angling, starting to jerk as your breathing became increasingly ragged. He earns the occasional mindless praise of “Fuck yeah. Yes. Like that.” as your voice inflected upward, your back arching.

“You’re so wet I could slip my fingers right inside you. You want me to fuck you with my fingers?” he cooed in your ear, his hips shifting against you, holding back on rubbing himself against you for friction.

“No.” you shook your head, eyes squeezed shut. “I’m close. I don’t want you to stop.” you begged.

“Fuck I can’t wait to watch you cum.” he confessed, watching your lips tremble as every breath elicited a sound. “You’re so fucking pretty.” he whispered watching your body writhe, covers no longer hindering his view as a sheen of sweat started to form. He watched your hand reaching for your chest to twist a nipple as your eyes lolled back into your head and another throaty moan escaped. “Want me to suck on your tits again baby?”

“Fuck-PLEASE-yes!” you cried, a sincere chest stuttering whine as your hips moved in circles against his hand. He latched on, no further instruction needed as your head raised and you looked down to see how on earth he was making you feel so good with a single finger. It wasn’t fair. The sight of his full lips and nearly black brown eyes predatory on your slack-jawed face made it hard to keep your eyes open. Every swirl of his finger got you closer, your eyes inching back a little more. “That’s so fucking good. Don’t stop Eddie please it’s SO good.” your voice took a downturn, deepening as your stomach began to tense. Your hand was taught in his hair, holding him to you as he grunted and snort as you nearly suffocated him but he was in no headspace to complain. “I’m gonna cum.” you squeaked out. “Holy shit.” you gasped, the disbelief clear in your voice. “Oh my god you’re gonna make me cum.” a crazed laugh escaped you for a moment full of elation and surprise. “Ugh.” you called out as the peak was inevitable now. “Eddie. Shit.” you gasped and groaned, your body moving in a new way as you jerked and snaked, you tensed all over, you were loud with no intention to be to show off. Your inhales were sharp and sang. Nonsensical babble that made Eddie smile with satisfaction that only making you cum calling his name could give him. He was the only guy to ever do it, and he didn’t intend on it being the last of the night. “Oh my GOD.” you shouted as he didn’t stop even after you finished, with a shaky hand you gripped his taught wrist and whined cueing him to stop. You collapsed back and caught your breath, feeling his mouth dot kisses over your chest before finding your hot cheeks. He brushed your hair back, allowing you to cool off as your hair had started to stick you in places. “Fuck you, Eddie Munson.” you growled but it was with a beaming smile. His loud laugh was cut off by your mouth crashing into his. He’d awakened something, a need you’d never felt before. You wanted-no-needed, craved more of him even after you came. He leaned into it, a hand on your ass as you threw your knee over his hips, yours still rolling. “I’ve never needed someone so badly before.” you panted out as your tongues lapped at one another. It was messy and from the outside would’ve been a little gross to you but in the moment you wanted nothing more than every part of him as inside you as possible.

“You’re so sexy. Shit. So goddamn good. I wanna make you cum again, baby. Can I?”

“If you don’t fuck me I will kill you.” he laughed again, face finding the curve of your neck as his hand grabbed a handful of ass with a slap and shake.

“How do you want it? I don’t wanna hurt your back, hun.”

“Hurt it, I don’t care.” you bellowed.

“You want on top? Or from behind?” he gave you options as he sucked your neck and felt you up, hand rubbing over your downy soft center. “No, I wanna see your face. Gotta see you cum.” he muttered. “Want to watch you baby.” another mumbled free-flowing thought tumbled out of his mouth as you grabbed at his hard cock through his boxer and his head bonked into your shoulder.

“I don’t care how.” you insisted.

“I know.” he popped his head up, turning away and removing his boxers in an instant, his hard cock bounced and made your mouth water as he sat up against the wall where his headboard would be. “Sit in my lap. Ride me.” he slapped his thighs as you eagerly wiggled your hips, already to all fours awaiting his input. “I can still fuck you like this. Not having you do all the work.” he grinned and splayed out. Neither of you noticed the way you licked your lips at the sight of the other, you were too busy drinking it all in. He reached to his bedside table, fumbling with a condom as he ripped it with his teeth. He got to see your body in motion, the way it moved as he stroked his cock, watching you prowl his way and straddle his legs.

“Just a taste.” you grabbed him by the base before he could slip the condom on wanting to feel the velvet smoothness of him in your mouth. He didn’t need to get harder to fuck but you needed to show off a little too. You knew your head game was good and thought it only fair if you also made him swear and sing like he had you. You sucked and stroked, popping off and jerking him onto an outstretched tongue with a smile.

“Goddamn…” he groaned pushing your hair back to watch you lavish him. You were wet and messy, downright sloppy as you spit on him and hollow your cheeks to gag as he hit your throat. A quick tongue bath for his balls made his legs spread and his head thump against the wall. “Fuck yes baby that’s it.” he grabbed your hair to hold you for a moment, relishing in the feeling of you sucking him into his mouth, trying to stuff both balls into your mouth at once. “Dirty girl.” he bit his lip and grinned, “But so fuckin’ good.” he gritted his teeth as he pulled you away and sank you onto his cock, having a little rough fun before returning his attention to you fully. You were a bit rabid and he fucking ate it up. He hadn’t known what to expect but a feral blow job hadn’t been it. With a little attention, you’d turned into a lusty, greedy hellcat who was showing him a few firsts too. No one had practically eaten his balls like that before for willingly gagged themselves. Your face shined in the low light covered in spit and pre cum. He pulled you to his mouth, albeit gently by the hair, and ran his tongue across your panting lips to taste himself.

“You’re so fucking hot.” you moaned, taking the condom from his hand and slipping it on him as you kissed him hard. You were tired of waiting. You were known to be impatient during sex but impatient to finish. Not impatient to get more. You giggled at the thought that you might be a slut after all. But only for one man, it seemed. You weren’t bothered by it. Maybe you should be. But you weren’t. It only filled you with warmth like you hoped he would.

“Yeah?” he huffed with a rapidly rising and falling chest, looking up at you, his hand at worship on your waist as he watched you descend upon him with blown-out eyes.

“You are. I mean it. Always have been.” you cooed as you ran him through the slick nest between your thighs. “You’re handsome but this cock…shit baby…” you hummed and smiled, notching the head of him inside you. “This cock is exquisite.” you chose your words carefully. You wanted him to know how impressed you were. How he was different from any other guy. You muffled a moan by biting your lip as he slid in quicker than you anticipated with how wet and needy your pussy was. You’d never been so wet, so painfully open and hungry before. “Fuuuuuck.” you let out a high-pitched laugh as you raised yourself a bit to ease taking the rest of him in. “You are somethin’ else, Munson.” A deep rumble of praise from your chest as you grabbed the sides of his face, holding yourself up still, not able to take him in. “You’re gonna make me slow down with this big cock.” you giggled as you kissed him softly but with intent.

“I can open you up baby, don’t worry, stay juuuuust like that.” he shifted his hips making your lashes flutter before you realize he was planting his feet to fuck up into you. He pushes until he feels resistance, feels your greedy pussy tighten at the discomfort. “You can take it. That’s it. That’s my good girl.” he held your hips and slowly worked himself in and out of you, venturing further each time. He reached down to rub your clit, watching your face give over with shut eyes and a dopey smile. With your swollen, sensitive clit now included he felt the suction again, your hips moving of their accord as you mixed in pleasure with the almost pain, your need taking over the distraction of how deep he was. No one, nothing had been this deep inside you before. “Sat down in my lap like a good girl.” his face was mischievous, looking up at you as you finally rest your ass against him.

“Something about you makes me wanna be a good girl.” you whisper sweetly, wrapping your arms around his neck, bringing you together. With a wiggle of your knees, you adjust your stance and move up and down, the position was new, you’d never had someone sit up and hold you before. His hands roamed your body to map it out, favoring your ass and tits. He sloppily kissed your chest, face buried as you figured out what felt good for you. That also made it a lot different. You would’ve bounced and squeezed around his dick and got him off in a flash normally but you were supposed to focus on yourself. To your surprise, sinking on him and grinding your hips was by far the winner.

“You good baby?” he asked, tucking your hair behind your ear, seeing your face shift from elated to concentrated.

“Yeah.” your eyes shot open, not realizing you’d been scowling as you focused. “M’figuring this out.” you admitted and looked down, seeing his hands on your hips, helping you rock back and forth. “What feels good for me.”

“Thatta girl.” he nodded and took his hands into yours, you watched your fingers lace into his. Devoid of his usual rings that were in a dish on his dresser. You remember a time when he didn’t have those rings, now they were a trademark. And you got to see the scandalous naked fingers of Eddie now. He kissed your hands and you whined at the soft intimacy of the moment. “Use me for leverage, honey. You're not gonna hurt me.” laying your hands on his shoulders. He grabbed the heft of your ass to help raise you as you gasped out at the angle he hit as he shimmied down, giving you more room to lean over him. You ground against him, rubbing your clit against his body, he met you with a thrust as you found your pace. He listened and learned, and matched your speed even when you paused or faltered.

“Never done it like this before,” you whispered, your head hanging, hands now on the wall behind him, your chest hanging in his face. Before he could ask, you answered. “Slow. Close. Not the..ugh, fuck…the pounding. I don’t have to touch my clit for this to feel good.”

“Take all the time you want gorgeous. No way I’m getting soft looking at you.” you simper, eyes still closed and he melted at the sight. A heavy sigh as you rocked back and forth on him. “You feel amazing by the way.” he gazed up and shook his head, you felt his hair tickle against your arms. “You like dirty talk sweetheart?” as he always had he asked permission before trying something new. You nodded, biting your lip.

“I think I do, yeah. I wanna hear you.” you ask with heavy breaths, taking your time and letting your next orgasm build, floating in the heavy weight of him on your insides, the fullness, the loving nips and sucks he intermittently planted on your tits.

“Your pussy is so wet you’re not gonna know what’s your cum and what’s mine when I’m through with you. Such a sweet little thing aren’t you? Rubbing that pretty pink pussy against me and making yourself feel good. Just like I told you. Cause you’re my good girl aren’t you?” you couldn’t have hidden how his words turned you into a needy, pathetic puddle even if you’d tried. Your hips sped up, your voice higher pitched, softer than the first time he made you cum. He couldn’t help but be selfish and play in the fantasy of you belonging to each other. Like he’d thought it might’ve been all those years ago.

“I”m your good girl, Eddie.” you nodded, leaning back and moaning deep when he sat fully inside you, your hands to your chest, playing with yourself, moving halfway between a bounce and a grind. “Wanna..” you whimpered, letting the feeling build. “Wanna be good.” you nodded helplessly, lost in the feeling of pleasure and praise, the thought of belonging to someone who cared for you made your chest flutter.

“C’mere baby.” he pulled you forward, latching onto a nipple as he helped you move with his hands that encased so much of your body. “You are good. So good.” he muttered into the soft of you. He hoped you could feel how much he meant the words in a non-sexual way. Your body shook at the jolt that shot to your clit from his gifted mouth. You needed him closer, impossibly closer as you wrapped your arms around his head and pressed your face into the fluff of his hair. You breathed him in, he felt your lips to his forehead, kissing intermittently, nails to his scalp as your grip tightened the closer you got. He was encased in you, you smelled sweeter when your perfume mixed with your sweat. He’d smelled you pass him in the hallways for years but nothing compared to tasting the sweat on your skin, his senses full of you. You clung to him like he was important to you, like you needed him and he was foolish enough for you to let himself believe you did. The small kisses, and the whispers of his name as he hit the learned spots that made you beg filled his stomach and chest with a mix of arousal and emotion.

He’d thought maybe he would get emotional if you slept together. There was too much history there to be detached. Too many could have been’s to not fantasize about it working out. The way you moved in sync, breaths, and moans in steady intervals, the tones mixing as you draw yourself closer, using his body. The silence around you only made the noise seem that much more important, bubbled between you in the encroaching darkness of a familiar and safe space. Your brow was creased hard, concentrated, and hidden as you took in the lingering smell of his shampoo. You were startled when you felt his arms wrap around your middle tightly. You pulled back to look down at him. “Hold on for me. I wanna see your face.” you nod without question as he slid farther down the bed, pillows still behind him but more horizontal than you were before. Your hands splayed on his chest, waiting for instruction. Your eyes bat, a whimper escaping from the cool air now able to move between your bodies. “Sorry baby, couldn’t handle not getting to see that pretty face.” His voice was soft and gritty, a hand finding your cheek to focus you as you felt him thrust with force, pushing a yelp out of you. He got to witness the glory of your eyes lolling back, swollen lips parted and trembling at what he was making you feel.

“You wanna watch me?” you offer, instinctive in your picking up on what he could be asking with hints. You arch your back, prepared to bounce and ride, something you knew you were good at. But he shook his head, dark hair a halo against pale sheets and a paler face. “No. I want to see you.” he corrects, hand gently suggesting you move your face with it as he brought your lips back together. “Couldn’t stand not kissing you.” he muttered between kisses, your bodies lazily grinding, him now able to easily pump his length in and out of you. You met with small moans, a huff of hair escaping like little bellows as he filled you up, your clit throbbing and aching as it drug against his dark hair and lean middle. He let his hands wander ever so delicately to your back. He wanted to squeeze you against him but didn’t want to hurt you. You’d never felt hands so cautious on you before. He touched you like you were delicate. He fucked you like you might break. His unfairly beautiful eyes looked at you like you were something to cherish and protect and a whimper easily misunderstood to be pure pleasure slid out of your mouth and into his. That feeling in your chest grew again, not the same as the orgasm tumbling about in your belly. This was different, new. His kisses were a delicious distraction your brow knitted as something resembling pain fluttered around in your ribs. Your hand trembled to his chest, feeling his heart thudding against your palm and wondering if he felt it too. One hand kept to your hips, steady, making sure you weren’t getting too tired. The other went from your cheek to take the one shaking on his chest into his own. A choked sob escaped, kissed away as he snaked his arm around your lower back now, still holding your hand. He felt perfect, solid, and smooth as you met in the middle with the slap of skin echoing into the room. But it was almost secondary to the way your eyes locked. You took the hand you’d had supporting you on the bed to take his jaw into your grasp now. He didn’t look surprised, no, he was thankful in an odd way. Relief as you put your forehead to his and called his name in a voice so sweet he would bet no one else had ever heard it before. He wanted to be the only one to draw it from you. Outside a war could’ve raged away, nothing in comparison to the silent conversation between your hearts as only a little bone and flesh separated them. You cried out, him steadfast and shushing, a pliant kiss for every whimper.

“Eddie.” you nuzzled your nose to his, something you’d never done to another person. He made you want to be so soft.

“You close? You’re getting tight on me. It feel good? Am I making you feel good?” he asked desperately seeking your approval.

“So good. Too good.” you whispered and kissed him again. “No one else could do this, Eddie.” you confessed, your eyes so docile as they shined with tears he had to assume were good as you weren’t voicing any other opinion. “No one could make me feel this way. Just you.” you pouted, mouth open against his as you started to fade, the sinfully good feeling growing and working its way up your spine into your brain to make way for your heart to speak as it turned off your filter. Your hand wasn’t light on his jaw, you squeezed his hand in yours on his chest. “I missed you.” you felt the sting of tears, of sweet emotional release in your eyes. He felt your lip tremble against him before falling open and moaning, spine shifting as your body revved up. “I missed you so much.” a tear fell as he latched his hands to your cheeks to steady you, picking up his pace and watching the intoxicating mix of ecstasy and remorse as you spoke without worry.

“Fuck I missed you too. You have no idea, sweetheart. I missed you so goddamn much.” he crashed his mouth to yours, he couldn’t do anything else in that moment.

“You feel so good. You’re so good to me, baby.” you cry out to him, messy and pitiful as you slide against him, letting his hips put in the work as you present yourself to him. He joyously accepts. “I should’ve never left you.” you confess, shaking your head as he kept your cheeks firm, feeling tears tracing the lines of his hands.

“Shh, baby look at me. Focus on me. You’re fine. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” he swore, kissing the bulb of your nose.

“Yeah?” you choked out, hope in your watery eyes again.

“You’re here now. That’s all that matters. Focus on me baby, focus on that perfect pussy, let me make you feel good. Please. That’s all I wanna do. I wanna make you cum so bad it hurts. It aches baby. Cum for me? Yeah? Please?” a man had never begged in such a way. In a raw, vulnerable way that made you want to give him anything he wanted. You wanted to give him everything to make up for the things you’d done.

“Anything, Eddie.” you promised, letting your eyes close to focus. Your breath was light as you exhaled over his face to concentrate. “Anything you want.” you swore to him, caught in the riptide of emotion you were warned about. You didn’t know sex could do this. That intimacy and connection could wrench hidden feelings to the surface. That safety and trust would make you want to need another person. As the tension built, bringing you to the peak you realized your independence wasn’t something to be so proud of. That needing someone. That was what made life worth living.

There were no words shared for a long while after that. You came with a scream, years of pent-up emotion escaping through cries to Eddie’s chest as your body bowed against his. Your body perfect against his made it easy for him to let go as he pounded into you relentlessly as you came. You tremored in his arms, pushing your hair back and kissing your sweaty forehead as you both gasped to catch your breath. You shook and grumbled into his chest, body on fire with pleasure and your mind heavy with regret. You lay on him for who knows how long. He grabbed the covers to throw over you both, rough fingertips but delicate touch up and down the unmarked parts of your back. It soothed you like a baby. You were almost ashamed at how content you felt. But nothing about this felt wrong. It felt so impossibly right. He eventually broke the silence, by of course checking in on you.

“How are you feeling?” a whisper into your hair as he kissed your head.

“A lot.” for a beat neither knew what to say before you let out a quiet laugh. “I’m okay.” you nodded and snuggled into his chest.

“Do you… wanna talk about it?” his voice cracked and it made you smile to know he was also as unsure as you were about how to move forward.

“We should.” you grunt and move to roll next to him. Your body for the first time all week was lax and comfortable. “Can I?” you nod your head to suggest you cuddle up next to him.

“Please.” he insisted, holding up his arm as you slid beneath it. Your hand rested on his chest, his fingers in your hair as you sat in the aftermath.

“I uh-” a nervous huff tickled across his skin. “Fuck it.” you sighed. “I meant it. All of it. I’m sorry for what I did to us. Because you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. So many times I almost told you you were right and I didn’t want to do it anymore. But I was too stubborn. Too proud. In too deep.” your head nuzzled into his pec. “You feel like coming home. This feels like I’ve been traveling for years and I’m finally back in my own bed where I belong.” you were unknowingly making his eyes water now.

“Because this is where you belong.” he met you with the same sentiment. You craned your neck to look at his face. “Everything I did against you was because I was hurt. I didn’t mean any of it. Not really.” he looked away and chewed his lip. “I kept hoping you would come back, you know? I knew you weren’t happy. But I couldn’t tell you that and risk you pushing even farther away.”

“You’re right. As always.” you reassured him.

“I’m not happy about how it happened. But I’m happy something happened to break you out. It wasn’t gonna be pretty no matter what it was.”

“True. I’m glad it happened too. I was so tired.”

“I know, baby.” he stretched to kiss you. “How about you rest now, huh?”

“You have any plans this weekend?”

“Spending it with you I hope.” he felt you smile, resting your chin on his chest.

“Lots of naps. Lots of… stories and sharing and apologizing.”

“Lots of catching up to do.” he nodded. You leaned up to kiss him again with more intent.

“Thank you.” you whispered against his lips. “For everything.”

“We’ve got all the time in the world to talk about it, sweetheart.” he wrapped his arms around you, turning toward you and pulling you to his chest. “Thank me by going to sleep with me.” he smooched your cheek playfully, noisily. You didn’t say another word. You simply did as he asked. He had a track record of always being right after all.

In the morning, or afternoon really by the time you awoke and giggled and kissed your way out of bed. You put on the same clothes as the day before, looking fairly normal and not your usual walk of shame aesthetic. It was nice to be comfortable for once. Eddie opened the door in a flannel with clashing print pajama pants. When you looked out into the living room you met the eyes of Wayne. You’d spoken more with him than Eddie in the last few years. That wasn’t saying much. He glanced between you and Eddie with clear confusion. You would’ve been confused too.

“Should I be worried?” he finally asked, not knowing how to breach the subject of you having slept over. He didn’t know if it was platonic like it had been for years before or if was less than innocent. He only knew you hadn’t talked to his boy in years and now you were sleeping over again.

“She had a week from hell.” Eddie explained as you sheepishly nodded and gave him an apologetic smile.

“I didn’t wanna be alone last night.” you admitted as Edie’s head twist your way, the softest smile on his face for you openness. “I was really upset.” you toed the linoleum floor. “Eddie offered to let me stay. Hope that’s okay.”

“You’re always welcome here, darlin’. Nothing’s changed as far as I’m concerned.” he nodded with a warm smile.

“I think I’ll be around a lot more now.” you nodded still looking a bit sad, dark circles under your eyes.

“Everything okay?” he took it as you trying to say you’d need more support, that things were bad.

“Not right now, no.” you wrinkle your nose and shove your hands in your hoodie pockets. “But I think… for the first time in a long time...” you smile and watch Eddie making you both bowls of cereal, focused on his task. “They will be.”

ngl, I live for validation, feedback, and interaction. Comments and reblogs make my day. <3 Feel free to send asks or requests. I'm just a silly little animal with a hyper fixation!

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