#are they gonna ring me when they’re leaving the store ??

[saeiken]

.

[aqpippin]

i’ve never had groceries delivered before but i thought i would ✨try✨ — and the waiting anxiety is enough for me to never do this again

[usedpidemo]

Too many nights ((G)I-dle Yuqi)

The way you see it, even if the signs were right in front of you all along—written in bright, colorful signposts with the largest text imaginable—you’d still be hurling yourself off that cliff. 

Yuqi knows this too—you think she does.

At the very least, she looks convincing enough that she feigns innocence on the matter, and she is. It's mainly a you problem. She doesn’t know you much other than being the sweet, quiet guy who was her roommate in college and nothing else.

And that’s probably the reason why she’s standing in front of your newly minted apartment on a random Monday.

—————

You’re waiting for her to pick her bags off the floor and leave. You told her to leave three times. Threaten to call security on her. She doesn’t budge. Instead, she stares. Stubborn, obstinate, unyielding.

“Please, give me one opportunity. Please let me explain myself.” Yuqi finally breaks her silence, eyes wide, glinting with tears, pleading.

“Shoot.”

She looks down, unable to see you eye to eye, her hands running through the pockets of her skirt. “You’re right. I’ve taken your kindness for granted, and I’m sorry. I really am.” 

Pausing, you’ve never heard her sound this quiet, this personal. “I never truly appreciated you till I was home with my parents. I should have focused more on studying than going out and having fun. Now look. They’re pissed that I’m being a bum at home instead of working, so they kicked me out.”

She proves your theory to be true. She has no reason to be here unless you bail her out of trouble again.

“But I can’t find one job that I like. Working a 9-5 or any regular cashier job seems so boring, you know what I mean? Doesn’t feel like my type of thing to do,” she continues, lightly kicking the suitcases with her feet. “My friends are all busy, so I had no one to lean on. Then I remembered you! So here I am.”

At least it was nice seeing Yuqi act mature for at least three minutes before reverting to her usual spry, childlike personality. 

“Okay? Well that’s on you for being lazy, and I can’t help with that. Sorry to hear you got kicked out, but I have nothing to offer you. It was great seeing you, though. Good luck with that job.” 

You try closing the door, but she stops it with her foot. Peeking through the narrow space, you find Yuqi persistent, unrelenting. “Wait. Hear me out for a second, I said I didn’t wanna be your roommate.”

“No, Yuqi. Just go—”

“I really need you right now. I’ve already applied to like five different companies on public wifi, it’s so fucking slow and I doubt they even got my email. I just need a place to stay for like a month. Trust me, I’ll get a job and when I get paid, I’ll spend it on finding my own apartment! Just give me this one time.”

You swear you’ve never heard Yuqi this desperate, this loud. Your neighbors are probably ringing up security right now, maybe the owner too.

“Okay, okay. Just calm down for a minute, will you? Our neighbors are listening.” You open the door lightly and Yuqi’s eyes light up. You didn’t even say yes, but it might as well be a confirmation to her.

“You promise? You’re actually working on a job application?” you ask, doubtful about her claim.

“Of course.” Yuqi shows her phone, presents pdf files of multiple application letters to the very places she doesn’t want to work. Some fastfood chains, at convenience stores, and mall outlets. “None of them have replied back, so—I’m still trying to apply to more places, but I’m almost out of data on my plan and I don’t wanna spend another night inside my car. Just give me this one thing? Okay?”

Seeing the evidence firsthand, you can’t help but be impressed. If you had any spine, you’d contemplate the proposal more, give it some time to mellow out, maybe let her elaborate some terms of agreement. But in a moment of weakness, you yield right away. What’s one month of Yuqi gonna do to you?

“All right, fine. I’ll let you stay—”

“I owe you one, thank you, thank you, thank you!” Yuqi doesn’t even let you finish your sentence when she brings her suitcases into your apartment at record speed. She gives you a peck on the cheek in appreciation twice, one for each pair of suitcases she shuffles in.

You can only sigh in response before closing the door.

—————

Before Yuqi gets comfortable in her new place, you sit her down on the living room couch to discuss house rules. This isn’t like college, where you share a dorm together, split the bill and have personal spaces. While you don’t own the apartment, you make one thing very clear: she’s bound to you and whatever rules you impose on her.

“Let’s make one thing and one thing clear: you break any of my rules, you’re outta here. I don’t care if you explain yourself, you’re gone. Understood?”

“Right.” Yuqi’s trembling with excitement and impatience, nodding erratically, kicking her legs up, goading you into rushing through everything so she can lay on an actual bed. 

You take a moment to analyze her suitcases in the middle of the room. Facing her, you ask cautiously, “Tell me you didn’t bring your—”

“Yep!” She responds almost immediately, thrilled to answer your question, as if it were muscle memory. “It’s exactly what you think it is.”

And there goes your supposed rule one. Of course she brought her entire dorm room decor along. Knowing her, they’re likely encompassing two of her suitcases.

“Yeah, no. My landlord is quite strict about decor, so you can’t put them up,” you tell her bluntly; there’s no getting around his rule, even if your roles were swapped.

She frowns, visibly devastated, probably more hurt than being kicked out by her family. It’s the end of the world, but she won’t give in. If there’s even a slight possibility she can have her way, she will force herself through. “Please? Even just my room—”

“Not a chance. It’s just a general rule here, sorry.” You make sure to shut her down immediately. “I didn’t make that rule, anyway. Blame the owner.”

Yuqi acquiesces. She groans with displeasure, crossing her arms, acting bratty. No act can convince you to change your mind.

“Right. Now actual ground rules. This isn’t a dorm so you can’t just freeload as much as you want. Now I understand you're still working on that job application, so all I’m asking is just for you not to be completely messy, got it? So don’t eat my leftovers without asking, don’t go out to clubs and ask me to drive you home when you’re drunk, none of that. If you’re drunk, sleep outside the room. I don’t want to clean up vomit on the carpets.”

Surprisingly, Yuqi agrees without complaint. You’re unsure whether she’s nodding so she can settle in, or if she actually understood every single word.

“I seriously hope you’re working on that job—”

“Don’t worry! Just give me the wifi password and I’ll be set.” Yuqi can’t help but interrupt you every single time, and to her credit, it’s effective. She does seem dead set on taking this opportunity to redeem herself, and it’s a convincing act. As insufferable as she can be at times, you want to see her succeed. You want to see her win.

You jot down the wifi password on an extremely thin sheet of paper and place it on the table before her. Before walking away, you ask her, “You need me to help with your belongings? I’ll get the guest room ready while you make yourself comfort—”

“Nah, it’s fine!” Yuqi’s typing on her phone, not even shooting you a look in your direction. “I’ll get it sorted out, don’t worry! Just pretend I’m not here.”

To her credit, she does get her belongings sorted out. By evening, she moves into a cleared out storage room that’s now her designated bedroom. Words are hardly exchanged other than simple pleasantries and greetings. You ask her if she had dinner, she says yes. She doesn’t take anything from the fridge other than some water. There’s a knock on the door; she answers and comes back with a package of chinese food. She offers to share some, but you modestly decline.

You never ate together when you shared a dorm in college. She would eat her inside her bedroom or after you already cleaned up. At times, she’d come back to the dorm late and you wouldn’t see her till the following day. You share the same space but you have vastly different lives. The feeling is familiar, but the setting is new: having dinner under the low light, uncertain about your futures. 

This feels like your first day together all over again.

—————

The first night with Yuqi is a quiet affair. There’s hardly any commotion. An unusual scene. She finishes her food ahead of you then retreats into her bedroom without uttering a single word. 

When you wake up the next morning, Yuqi is already at the dining table. Browsing her laptop, coffee in hand, seemingly focused on that next job application. She doesn’t even greet you or acknowledge your existence; she’s in her own world, but in a good way. 

“Morning,” you quietly say, trying to grab her attention, but it falls on deaf ears. 

“You off to work?” she asks, preceded by a mouse click while you pour onto your mug. Her attention remains glued to the screen, paying you no heed.

“Kind of?” You take a seat opposite Yuqi’s side on the table. “I work here. Or should I say: this is my workplace.” 

“Wow. I wish I could work from home. Would be nice,” she replies between mouse clicks and keyboard taps.

You take a light sip of your coffee. “What course did you take again?” 

“Umm—” Yuqi slumps back in her chair, “I think it was medicine? I wanted to become a guitarist and have my own band, but my parents wanted me to become a doctor. And I don’t wanna ruin my handwriting, so—” 

“Don’t you have a band with your friends? The one with—”

“Yeah that dream died two years ago.” Yuqi’s eyes squint, brows furrowing, running through every word slightly faster than normal. “And I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Not even a little—”

“No.” She faces you with a surprisingly cold glare, a sight you’ve never seen before. “They can just fuck off—those goddamn bitches.” 

You find yourself unable to move the conversation forward after her abrupt turn. It’s probably for the best; you hardly paid any attention to Yuqi’s life to be entitled to a substantial explanation. 

The rest of the hour goes by in deafening, awkward silence. Here’s Yuqi, this ball of energy whose life primarily revolves around partying and getting rowdy, calmly clicking on the touchpad and typing a few words every now and then in search of a way to fund her addiction. You can tell from her sullen expression just how deprived she is of that high—how incomplete she feels without the rush of adrenaline, ecstasy, and alcohol flowing through her veins. It’s impressive how it takes someone to hit rock bottom to turn their life around, how all this could have been avoided with a few decisions.

Still, it’s never too late for someone like her, and as long as she holds up her end of the deal, i.e. leave you for good after this, you’ll actively root for her success.

—————

“Fucking hell, dude,” sighs Yuqi, slamming the panel of her laptop hard, her fist narrowing missing the edge of the table. While you’ve made yourself comfortable at your usual workplace, a spacious office desk on the other side of the living room, you’re preoccupied scanning through numerous documents and emails your boss sent you. A look at the bottom right of the screen tells you it’s half past lunch. Then your stomach grumbles, as if the clock wasn’t enough of a reminder.

“Gonna make lunch,” you say to a vexed Yuqi, who’s stretching her legs against the table and her arms to the ceiling, body likely aching from her hunched position. “You good?”

“Yep.” Her tone perfectly toes the line between sincerity and sarcasm. “Got three rejections—no, four, actually. The last one was sent minutes ago.”

You’re not sure how to respond.

“Oof.” 

You couldn’t relate to her even if you tried. Of the two applications you sent, your current job is the one that gave you the freedom and flexibility to work from home, even if it paid less than the other. That was six months ago; finding job opportunities has become way harder, or so you’ve heard from your other unemployed peers from college.

“Finding a job sucks,” says Yuqi, stating the obvious. She finally gets up from her chair, brings her laptop back into her bedroom to charge before reemerging with a hairpin wrapped around her knuckles, tying it around her loose red hair. “So, what’s for lunch?”

“Meatloaf and eggs,” you reply, firing up the stove as you grab pans from beneath the sink. “Not sure if you’ll like it, though.”

She lifts her eyebrows, intrigued, but mostly unbothered. She’ll eat anything as long as it isn’t fast food or from the convenience store, and she doesn’t have the gall to complain, anyway, as your roommate. 

—————

“So, how’s the job hunting going?” you ask her right as the sun descends over your apartment windows. You have your schedule down to a science, finishing all intended projects and goals when neighboring buildings’ lights open. Weekdays can’t be anymore mundane and monotonous, but you get the job done, you’re paid handsomely, and you have time for your other hobbies.

Meanwhile, Yuqi looks like she doesn’t want to stare at a computer screen for a week, maybe a month. She looks worse off than she did in the morning. It’s evident in her clothes, her hair, her face: frazzled and messy. A perfect representation of her state.

“What do you think?” she replies, never sounding so heated, so frustrated. A look at her screen shows a new rejection letter, piled between several others, already read. Each one with different reasons, different ways to hurt, but with the same intent: we appreciate your interest, but we have chosen a different candidate from a very competitive pool—we don’t think you fulfill our qualifications—we’re looking for someone with more experience—we wish you the best in your future endeavors. You’ve noticed she tends to click back and forth between each letter, as if to torture herself further.

“I think you should put that laptop away. Try again tomorrow,” you tell her, closing the panel while she’s scrolling, stealing her attention. She readjusts her glasses, blinking rapidly, annoyed at your little intervention. “I’m going for a walk. You should join me.”

“And what if I don’t?” she asks, threatening to pull her laptop away from your fingers. 

“Good luck going out when I have the room key then.”

“I don’t have my running shoes,” she replies, and she’s telling the truth; she only brought one pair of slippers with her, the rest being colorful sets of boots and expensive high heels.

“Then grab some from my closet and wash up. You’ll look stupid if you go out in those silly boots.”

—————

At first, you believe she had declined the offer; you had already left the building when Yuqi caught up to you moments later, huffing and puffing from exhaustion. Hey, maybe she could have been a great track and field athlete if she put her mind to it.

You can’t help but make a little comment. “Thought you weren’t going to go out.”

That was for all the times she’d make similar remarks to you back in college. They never really bothered you; you were never a man of high morals and upstanding, but at least you had your priorities sorted out, unlike Yuqi. 

Yuqi playfully counters your rib, shooting you a disparaging stare. “Dude. I’m doing you a favor by doing this.”

“Elaborate.” You laugh.

“You never went out whenever I asked you. You always said no to parties.”

“And for good reason. Look at us now.” 

If you wanted to, you’d be harsher. You have years of dirty laundry and grievances to air out, but this is as concise and as restrained as you can express them without getting accused of attempted murder. Besides, you can’t keep a straight face the longer you look at her. She clearly stands out in a rather dreary and dull crowd, and it isn’t the red hair as bright as the sun, it's her look—or lack thereof. Your oversized hoodie, your running shoes mixed with her pajamas, the lack of bra—it’s obvious she only did the bare minimum to look decent in a public setting, and yet she fits in all of them like a glove.

“Where are we going, anyway? Can it be a bar? I hope it’s a bar.” 

The first thing she wants to look for once outside is a place to drink. Of course. It’s hardly a surprise to you or anyone at this point.

“Where’s your car anyway?” you question back. 

“I dunno. Could be in the carpark, could have been impounded. I don’t remember, and I don’t really care. It smells like dogshit, anyway, cause I’ve been living in it for the past three weeks.” 

Yuqi talks with a fine blend of fast and sardonic, evidently scarred from all her ordeals with that car. She’s never experienced living outside her glass castle until now, and it shows. She’s dragging her feet with every step following you close behind, trying to soak in the scenery around her. Street lights, joggers, buskers, friends, and partners of every sort, people that you actually know and recognize. It’s all foreign in her eyes. All she knows are strobe lights, loud music, drinks, and rowdy crowds. 

“So, like, do you just go on a walk every single day or you only do this because I’m your roommate?” she wonders, her gaze lingering at a passing woman jogger that catches her eye. Jumping to conclusions, she adds, “Are you telling me to touch grass? As if I hadn’t been doing that for weeks?”

You turn around and notice her distant stare, still fixated on that woman, ruminating the prospect of leaving you for her instead. “I don’t think getting blacked out drunk and vomiting in your car counts as touching grass.”

“How do you even know that?” Yuqi faces you, provoked by your comment, pouting. “You hardly attend parties, even when I invited you. You always turned them down.”

“Word gets around fast. I thought you already knew that.” 

If she could, she’d grab you by the throat and strangle you to death or rip you in half. It stings. She questions whether your blunt, matter-of-fact delivery makes the statement ten times more scathing. Then she wonders if she made a mistake, dressing up and going after you, when you’ll just be making her regret her life decisions like her parents did. You hardly cared back then, so why now?

“Can we just go to a bar? You’re being annoying.” Yuqi stares into the distance, intentionally averting her gaze away from you.

“If you have the money, then sure, let’s go for it.” You know she has no leverage or power; she can only afford fast food and a month’s worth of groceries and daily necessities. It pains her to make a willing decision to pass on alcohol and avoid bars and parties. She’s down horrendously, but she won’t directly confess her own fatal flaw. 

It takes everything within her not to slap you square in the face. 

And you can play this game all night long until she folds. You can stand there, argue, and debate with Yuqi till she runs out of excuses and complaints. Four years of pent up material to unload onto her, make a scene in public and turn her into an example about not wasting one’s life away. You can go further, you promise. 

Instead, you both settle down in a cafe on the other side of the park as a compromise.

The place is more suited to Yuqi’s style: lively crowd, comfortable ambience, all the caffeine and sugar as a proxy to her raging alcohol addiction. Most importantly, she won’t pay for shit. You don’t even end up drinking your own order; she does it on your behalf. You settle for a tiny cup of tap water instead. In a way, she’s acting like a needy dog, desperate for attention without concern for anything else that doesn’t involve her.

“Fucking hell, I never knew I needed this,” she echoes, sipping up the last quarter of your coffee, glancing at the menu over the counter, itching for another. She’s keen on paying from her pocket this time; she recognizes you won’t give her another freebie. “This shit tastes so good.”

You can only shake your head, not even remotely trying to hide your frustration toward her. Her obliviousness is kind of cute in a way, making her look a bit sympathetic. 

“Maybe I should just work here,” she says, her eyes moving in every direction, her attention taken by something shiny every five seconds. Plenty of action happens at night: groups entering and exiting, the pervasive scent of fresh coffee brewing in real time, and plenty of girls to ogle at. In particular, there’s a waitress with a cherry tattoo on her neck that’s captured her interest. She can’t help but point her out to you, grinning widely at her. “See that waitress? She’s kinda cute.”

“Uh-huh.” You’re not really paying attention; you’re there mainly for the free wifi and a snack, not to flirt. Luckily for you both, the waitress is preoccupied with meeting high customer demands to notice. “Good idea, maybe you should apply here.”

The longer you stay inside the cafe premises, the more Yuqi becomes less inclined to leave. You end up having dinner, a couple of ham and cheese sandwiches from the snack menu. On her end, four cups of coffee strewn on the table, all drank by her. If this was some ploy to make you pay for free drinks, it worked to a tee. Anything to avoid engaging you in a serious conversation.

The opportunity never presents itself. Soon, the cafe becomes dimmer and muted. Staff are closing off sections, clearing trays, and cleaning up empty tables. Since you entered the cafe, she has not made a move on the waitress at all, even when you’ve tried pushing her over the cliff numerous times. Her shift is close to done, ready to check out for the day. One more opening. Still, Yuqi watches her intently, but can’t find the strength to stand, let alone pull the trigger.

“Well? I thought you were gonna ask her out or something.” You take a look around and come to a grim realization: that you’re the only two customers left.

“I—I don’t think I wanna do it now.” Yuqi turns around, playfully grinning, but rushing through her words. “Maybe when I get the job here. Maybe.”

You can only react in quiet disbelief to how this was all just a huge waste of time—and money.

“Fucking—” you sputter before masking the rest of your response, groaning as you rise from your seat, leaving.

After two days, your main observation is that Yuqi hasn’t changed much. If at all.

—————

The rest of the week follows a similar structure. It’s comforting; it’s the kind of monotony you’ve acquainted yourself in ever since having your own apartment. Yuqi’s always up before you, an hour in advance, she’ll tell you. At her usual spot around the dining table, on her laptop, coffee in hand. You stop asking for updates after the third day; you’re certain she’ll figure things out. Your mindfulness and curiosity get the better of you, peeking through the screen on occasion, only to find the same thing. One rejection after another, mixed in with a new application letter in between. From the outside looking in, it’s as if some divine force doesn’t want her to get that job.

In the evenings, you go for your usual walks. Yuqi joins you out of the apartment building, but instead of following, she separates and heads the other way. She’s wearing her own earphones and your hoodie, something she’ll end up keeping. The few times you run across each other, she's holding some drink in her hand, usually the coffee from the cafe you spent time with her in, her hoodie pooling with sweat all over. No pleasantries, you mind your own business till you return home.

It isn’t until two weeks after she’s moved in that you extend an invitation: a visit to a newly opened lounge on the other side of town. You preface the invite saying you only knew about the place because it had opened a month ago, and had mostly forgotten about it until you remembered her. She’s doing well for herself, so you might as well reward her for her efforts, even if it hasn’t gone anywhere. And it isn’t Yuqi without asking for some kind of favor; in this case, taking a ride in your car because hers has been impounded by the police. You’re not even surprised that she’s too lazy to reclaim it herself.

Your friend says the lounge is newly opened, but once inside, you’re uncertain about her claim. Whether it's by design or her being a complete liar, grimy, poorly lit, in the vein of all those underground clubs you had seen in action movies where a shootout or police raid occurs. Simply put, there isn’t anywhere pretty to look at, and you feel icky just by being here.

To Yuqi, it’s a fantasyland: it’s where she’s meant to be all along. She’s so overjoyed to be there. 

“It’s you!” calls a familiar voice; you turn and find a friendly face over the counter waving to you. You quietly leave Yuqi to herself and approach the bartender, who just so happens to be the owner. “I never thought you’d come and visit! It’s great to see you.”

“Only doing this for a friend, Minnie,” you silently tell her, pointing your finger at your invited guest, the sole reason you’d ever be here. She recognizes her immediately and understands.

“Yuqi, huh?” She looks intrigued, her gaze lingering at the girl. A subtle grin is forming on her face. “Never thought the two of you would be an item like that, considering she’s a party animal and you’re—”

“No—no—don’t get it twisted,” you interrupt, frantically trying to clear up any presumption. There’s no chance in hell you will ever find yourself attached to Yuqi romantically, not even a little. “It’s—a long story.”

“Do tell.” Minnie smirks, teasing, alluring. She looks the part of a bar owner, all right; dark eyelashes and shadowy lipstick matching her pitch black hair. Not to mention her slim dress perfectly hugging her tight frame, showing enough cleavage to draw attention. As a friendly gesture, she gives you a wine glass and pours a drink on it. “We’ve got all the time in the world and all the drinks you need. All in house since you’re a friend.”

So you oblige yourself to a tiny sip. The place is surprisingly quiet and empty, even though it’s the weekend, with lo-fi music playing through the speakers as the only form of background noise. Minnie doesn’t have much on her plate. She can lean on the desk and listen to you all night long.

“So, two weeks ago, Yuqi moved into my place trying to look for a job,” you tell Minnie before taking another sip. Both of you take quick glances at Yuqi, seemingly having the time of her life, scaring off the sole patron by the billiards table. “And I was wondering if you can get her a job here. She’s been rejected from every company she applied for. I know she doesn’t want to work a nine-to-five, and I suddenly remembered this place.”

Minnie raises a curious eyebrow, brushing small strands of hair covering her ear. “I see.” Looking past you, she notices Yuqi, now at the karaoke, amused by her voice and energy. You follow along and watch too, wincing at her talent, caught completely by surprise. You can feel the passion and emotion from her rather honeyed, deep singing voice, as well as her natural charisma while performing. 

“Damn. She sounds really good. Borderline natural at it.” Minnie’s in awe of Yuqi’s abilities, the sort of reaction that pushes buttons, steals the show. “Wasn’t she in a band? I know she played guitar.”

“She said it doesn’t exist anymore, won’t tell me what happened.” 

Even in the midst of conversation, Yuqi’s voice manages to snatch away your focus. She’s an extremely powerful singer—a natural, as Minnie said. Her voice is overpowering the background music with little difficulty. There’s little need to watch when her vocals can easily capture your attention all the same. 

Facing you again, Minnie replies, clasping her hands together, “How about she perform by herself?” she suggests. 

You meet her eye to eye at the drop of the notion, curious.

“What do you mean?” You take another sip.

“We have an open mic night next weekend, and we could use talent to liven up the place. She sounds perfect for that kind of gig. Who knows? Maybe she can be a resident singer if the cards are right.” Minnie smiles through every word, recognizing Yuqi’s talent and the untapped potential she has. All she needs is a platform to showcase her skill properly. And taking another glance at her, you see that too. She has the passion and the vocals to croon a live audience.

“I’ll tell her,” you say, turning to Minnie again. Yuqi has finished performing and is on her way over to the bar. Your conversation breaks off as the two women greet each other with an exchange of kisses on the cheek. 

“Great place you got here girl,” Yuqi tells Minnie, beaming from ear to ear. “I’ll be popping by often if you don’t mind.”

“Thanks. I could use some company on the weekdays, if I’m being honest.” Minnie hands Yuqi her own wine-filled glass, as well as a complimentary bottle. She makes sure not to “Take it, it’s on the house.”

“God, this is why I love you so fucking much.” Yuqi drinks up the whole glass in one swig, and immediately pours some from the complimentary bottle. Minnie can’t help but shake her head with a little smile, knowing this is still the same Yuqi she’s acquainted with since college. A rose-tinted view of days gone by. 

The two women spend the rest of the time catching up. With how much they talk, it would be a safe assumption to think that these are two long lost friends who haven’t spoken in years. Then the conversation goes on and on, revealing more details than you should probably know: exchanged  private messages as recent as last night, Yuqi’s intentions to visit the lounge sooner before present circumstances got in the way, and how she ended up in your apartment. As a listener and side character in her story, it’s a part you quite frankly never wanted, let alone be involved in under any capacity. You make sure to add your point of view in the narrative and clear every question. Whenever you chime in, they laugh heartily. It’s a mess, and they’re unapologetically quirky, never failing to make fun of you at times.

Despite everything, the topic is never brought up: the upcoming open mic night, her performance, her natural talent. You were planning to shoehorn the idea, but one too many drinks later, the conversation and opportunity eventually slips away. Again. 

Yuqi can hardly stand on her own two feet when she finally decides it's time to leave. It’s two in the morning when you guide her back to your car, with her drunk out of her mind and slipping into unconsciousness. Minnie assists you, making it even more embarrassing. Even when she’s so inebriated that she can barely move a muscle, she says she wants another round, slipping back into her old ways.

You escort Yuqi back to your apartment, setting her down on her bed and promising yourself that you’ll tell her about Minnie’s offer when she’s sober in the morning. 

Except it’s the one fucking day in the month where your job calls you into an actual office for a meeting. Despite that, Yuqi is not at her usual spot in the living room the next morning (unsurprisingly), so you leave food on the table for when she eventually wakes up.

—————

Returning late in the afternoon, you find a note from Yuqi on the outside door of your apartment, stamped by strawberry lipstick, simply reading:

> Not gonna be around till tomorrow. Have something urgent to attend to - XOXO, song yuqi

Sure enough, one brief tour of the apartment and Yuqi is nowhere to be seen. Her room remains untouched: the same, colorful space it’s always been, with most of her clothes and belongings still strewn everywhere on the floor. You don’t even mind the stickers and posters plastered all over the walls; she was gonna break that rule regardless. Typical, but expected. At least you know she hasn’t completely left yet.

Deep down, it’s the first time in a while that your apartment feels a lot smaller—and lonelier. It’s not that you have any sentimental attachment to Yuqi—not in the slightest—but her presence clearly livens up the place. The difference without her around is night and day. Even when your interactions are limited to a minimum, the brief moments you interact make living by yourself a bit more tolerable. 

So you preoccupy your mind with your usual schedule: a walk in the park, then dinner by yourself. But these intrusive thoughts grow worse and worse. You’re not in your pajamas at the usual hour, her absence is keeping you up at night, and waiting for her to walk through that door is about as brutal as federal punishment.

You end up driving to Minnie’s bar, inquiring about Yuqi’s whereabouts. She says she hasn’t been around, and she hasn’t exchanged messages with her since last night. Then she asks about open mic night; you tell her about the inconvenience, about the note on your door, which is why you’re there. Good effort, but she ultimately gives you nothing.

“You should stay here a while, who knows? I can message Yuqi you’ve been looking for her,” says Minnie, her smile as welcoming as it’s ever been. “Why not have a drink in the meantime?”

“Hmm.” You entertain the thought, but she promised to return tomorrow, and perhaps you’re overthinking it; you just have to let it play out. “No thanks.” As a distraction you’re watching another girl at the karaoke machine. She has distinctively pink hair, has similar energy and passion for singing, except her voice is much higher, more nasally. All she does is remind you of Yuqi, but she’s nowhere close—in appearance and in ability. “She promised to be back tomorrow. Maybe I should take her word for it and go home.”

A pour of wine on the glass is followed by her siren-like whisper. With her hand caressing your shoulder, she mutters, “So—you like her. You like Song Yuqi.”

You raise an eyebrow, taken aback by her statement. Facing Minnie, you reply, “What? No way. I don’t like Yuqi at all. I’m just concerned she might have disappeared, that’s all.”

“Cap.” Minnie smirks, murmurs to your other ear. “You like her. Actually, you love her. You just won’t admit it.”

“And what makes you say that?” 

“The fact you look so distressed wondering where she is. I mean—just look at you.” Her voice is slow, delicate, each word delivered with profound emphasis. She flickers a lighter, then directs the cigarette in her mouth for a puff. “Would someone who doesn’t like her worry like this?”

“I mean—I’m just trying to help her get back on her feet,” you tell her, and Minnie can only chuckle in response. Puff more smoke. In her eyes, you’re not doing yourself any favors. Your words have no weight to them. It’s the same old same old most women like her hear dozens of times. I’m not into her, says the guy who’s showing an alarming level of concern towards said girl. Something she’s all too familiar with. “You know? Just looking out for a friend, that kinda thing.”

Minnie wishes she can hold up a mirror against you now to prove her point. In a place meant for everyone to relax and ease themselves, you look tumid, on the verge of a historical crash out. She smirks into her next smoke, shaking her head, scrolling through her phone. “Sure. I believe you,” she remarks, and there’s no effort made to hide the sarcasm in any capacity.

That piece of cigar looks quite appealing right now. She sells smoking like she sells the off shoulder dress draping her defined figure: exceptionally well, like she’s meant for it.

Later in the night—you’re unsure whether it’s still today or tomorrow—Minnie suddenly approaches you with a shift in enthusiasm, as seen through her grin: “You should probably head home. Unless you want to stay the night waiting for someone who won’t be here in the morning.”

“She’s back already?” You manage to decipher the hint right away.

She nods, can’t help herself from beaming continuously. No effort to lie or maintain the mystery further. “I guess you’re not as stupid as I thought you’d be.”

Running up the stairs in a hurry, you respond to her little jab with a shout, “And you owe me one for that. Actually—no, I owe you one!” 

Unknowingly, Yuqi’s little mannerisms are starting to reflect in you, too.

Sure enough, you’re home within a matter of minutes. Empty streets, dead nightlife on a weekday, the loudest thing heard for miles is the roar of your car’s engine and the elevator headed up to your apartment floor. Any other time you’d burst through that door like an officer with an arrest warrant, but it’s almost three in the morning, and the last thing you want to be is apprehended yourself after a noise complaint. 

The place remains as unchanged as you had left it: completely dark, save for one light over the kitchen. It’s quiet, eerily silent—until you hear airy, soft noises in the distance. Room by room, you carefully inspect where the sound is coming from, only to find nothing at all. 

There’s only one place left to check, and it happens to be the Yuqi’s bedroom. A room you remember being empty. As you approach the sole unopened door, you notice the faint sound growing in pitch. Hushed words from a familiar tone.

“Fuck—oh fuck—”

You press an ear against the door frame. She sounds clearer.  Way more explicit. Vivid.

“So—so—good—fuck yes—”

There’s a subtle creaking sound that accompanies her singsong tone almost perfectly. Nothing is left open for interpretation; Yuqi is feeling herself. Feeling a satisfaction that only comes from something slick, something rough, something good. 

As much as you want to respect her space, her moment in the dark, you can’t help yourself. She sounds so good, so gratifying to the ears, it’s making you a little hot and flustered, much to your own guilt and shame. You don’t care about the consequences; you’ll allow yourself one little look then pretend it never happened. At best, she’s too preoccupied with her own bliss to notice, and at worst, it’ll be one awkward conversation starter in the morning.

“Oh, oh God—you feel really good baby—just like that—”

It’s as if she’s reading your mind, understanding your intentions. The way she moans your name like an invitation—something you never thought you would hear or even consider—how it’s naturally delivered from her sweet, intoxicating voice. You’re doing yourself a disservice by listening through the door.

There’s no better opportunity than now.

With your heart racing against your chest, every nerve in your muscles tense up as it desperately opens the door, slowly and as quietly as humanly possible. Miraculously, you go completely unnoticed. Even as light from the living room slowly penetrates through Yuqi’s bedroom, it fails to cover what really matters: the bed and Yuqi herself. 

Nevertheless, the sight that welcomes you is one to behold, one worth looking at with complete awe.

Yuqi’s body is splayed out on the bed. Her legs are spread wide, a couple of her fingers aggressively rubbing against her exposed clit, and there’s a glossy sheen coating the sheets before her soaking wet core. Her clothes are, unsurprisingly, scattered all over the floor, along with a pair of consumed alcohol bottles. She’s completely bare for your eyes to see. Nothing is left to your imagination. More importantly, she looks so fucking hot. Your heart is racing like never before, and the scene has your pants in a twist.

Her other hand runs up and down her lithe frame, then squeezes her own breast. She lets out this sharp mewl, grinding her hips against air. Her jaw slacks wide. Her eyes shut tight. Her back arches. Waves of self-induced pleasure send shockwaves through every fiber of her being, her moans growing more and more erratic.

“Fucking give it to me—I love this cock so fucking much—”

It’s about as pornographic and explicit as it gets. It riles you up in an uncomfortable way; you end up unzipping your pants to free your growing erection, but nothing happens beyond that. It feels wrong. It is wrong, but you can’t muster up the strength to look away, let alone walk away. You want to see how it ends. How she cums.

She wraps a hand around her own throat, while her knees are planted upright with her feet firmly gripped on the sheets. There's a noticeable tone change in her whines, as if simulating the act. Yet, the words flow from her lips seamlessly. “I’m so close—so, so close—”

The cackle she makes after is mortifying. Here’s this girl, who you had zero attraction prior to tonight, shamelessly declaring how she’s going to cum, how good your cock feels inside her—without either of the two even happening to begin with. The fact she likes you is the least shocking revelation in itself. A reminder: you only had three meaningful conversations with her since she moved in—two if you consider how blackout drunk she was the night before, and even if you go all the way back to your college days, you can count them with your fingers alone.

“Fucking—cumming—oh my God—”

Yuqi strains her knees and loosens her grip on the sheets as she lets the pleasure wash over. Clear liquid gushes past her throbbing, relentless fingers and spills onto the linen. A guttural, deep moan fills the bedroom as she slumps her body flat on the mattress, her energy completely depleted, her thoughts filled with nothing but orgasmic bliss. Her coated hands rest on her bare waist, her tummy, leaving viscous sheen on her creamy pale skin.

When she isn’t screaming your name or touching herself to the thought of you, Yuqi, at her barest, looks so gorgeous like this. Flaws and all.

Albeit brief, it’s quite the show to more than satisfy your thirst for her. You remember your uninvited presence in this room and where you stand in this relationship. That she’s only a tenant—an acquaintance at best—and nothing more. Any other person and situation would already send you damning to hell. 

So you quietly leave, gather your bearings, hoping her haze doesn’t clear before she is made aware of your presence, but you hear a faint whisper right as you close the door, clearer than any whine of pleasure:

“Hey.”

Part of you wants to ignore her, pretend this is all a huge misunderstanding and feign ignorance. Then you hear her soft, alluring voice calling your name and it’s what ultimately folds you:

“W-what time is it?”

Again, you consider the choice of entertaining her question or leaving her dry. She’ll probably fall asleep shortly after and forget these few moments. You tell her it’s three in the morning, hoping she dozes off.

She doesn’t.

“Shit. Can you come inside? I mean—come in.”

She’s still thinking about you, and it’s admittedly cute. You love how unabashedly blunt—and lewd—she is when she’s drunk. You give her the benefit of the doubt and reenter the room.

Yuqi realizes the messy state she and her bedroom are in when you turn on the lights. Cheeks puffed and red from embarrassment, she tries to hop off the mattress, only to stumble to the floor on her fours. 

“I’m so, so, sorry. I didn’t think you’d—” 

“Hey hey, it’s fine.” You grab her off the floor and sit her on the bed. “Don’t apologize. I’ll get some water; stay here and rest.”

Your eyes are meeting, hers twinkling. In those few, crucial moments, right when you’re about to leave, you feel an irresistible tug pulling you closer to each other.

Suddenly, Yuqi pulls you in by the shirt for a deep, passionate kiss. Her lips taste like actual whisky and vodka, indicating what she drank earlier that night. Yet they feel so lush, so sweet, filled with so much passion. You don’t bother trying; you fold to your lust, submit to her desire. You sink onto the bed together, never breaking apart, even for a second. Next thing you know, her hands are all over your body, roaming your chest, coiled around your neck, removing the shirt over your head to be tossed aside and completely forgotten.

Yet there’s still some resistance. Despite making the first move, she pulls back, and you do so in return. You’re hovering on top of her—an unexpected but welcome position to be in. 

“I didn’t know what got me there. I’m sorry. I just felt this sudden need to kiss you and—”

You shut her up by diving in and kissing her again, pinning Yuqi down to the mattress—the very thing that got you into this position to begin with. With you all over her, she’s able to shed the rest of your clothes: first the slacks, followed by your boxers. She mewls at the sensation of your hard cock pressed against her slit, and it’s beyond what her imagination can describe. It’s electrifying. And God, you know you’re no better than her, but you just want to fuck her right then and there, give her everything she wants without a second thought. 

Grabbing you by the scalp, she rips your lips off her chin as you’re making your way down her neck. “Not yet. Nuh uh.” She pulls you into yet another kiss, as if you’re oxygen—and in a way, it’s appropriate: you’re breathing new life into her. “Did I ever tell you that you were a good kisser?”

“Not at all,” you tell her, gently shaking your head. “You’re not half bad yourself.”

“Half bad?” Yuqi raises a sharp eyebrow, seemingly offended by your backhanded compliment. A dangerous smirk forms on her lips. “Says the one who was watching me the entire time—”

“You knew?” There’s a heightened sense of panic in your voice. “I thought  you were—”

“Shhh.” She kisses you, pulls you into a warm cuddle atop her. Slender legs wrapped around your hips, she follows: “Less talk, more lovemaking.”

And more lovemaking you do. You grow more easily acquainted with her lips than with her personality, and you barely know them: it’s only been a few minutes. Even though it’s a Thursday, the weekend feels like a lifetime away. You should be up five hours from now; you have the alarm preset and everything. But Yuqi’s getting in your way again, as she always has, and this won’t certainly be the last. She’s so hypnotic, so alluring, you find yourself unable to slip away, no matter how hard you try.

You find that it’s easier to give in than to struggle aimlessly. 

It’s effortless to get your fingers pressed inside her sopping core, brushing along sensitive, wet ridges of skin, where thoughts of you manifested into thin, delicate strokes. Her moans ring against your ears in varying pitches, each with a distinct, pulsing plea of satisfaction. Keep going, she tells you, and you follow without complaint. All this while you leave a soft path of bite marks down her neck and collarbones, until you reach her petite chest.

And fuck, you just go down on Yuqi. Sucking on her breasts like you’re in the middle of an oasis in the desert. She goes wild. Tossing, turning, trembling. You can feel her body close on you, wanting to take you in and suffocate you. The bed is creaking, growing strikingly more intense, turbulent. All this spurring you on, making you more reckless, more daring with her. 

“Mmmmm—fuck!” She lets out a hum of desperation, her hot, shaky breath fogging on your skin. You become an intertwined labyrinth of limbs that fit together, where you have no idea where it begins and where it ends. Your fingers vanish between her legs, still working tirelessly, perfectly snug around her pussy even when crushed between the weight of her thighs.

Eventually, you find yourself staring aimlessly at Yuqi. She’s so beautiful, and you’re punching yourself mentally, wondering why it took so long to come to this conclusion. Even when she’s not rocking the trendy hair color of the week and her face is a canvas for every conceivable makeup and filter, she’s naturally pretty. Especially now, completely bare—and with nothing but an exasperated, satisfied look of inebriated, lust filled bliss.

You find the light peeking from the living room, casting a shadow between your tangled legs. She’s dripping at her core, showering your fingers with a fresh flow of sheen, messing up the sheets even further if that’s even possible. They’re beyond saving at this point, and so are you. 

Rolling to her side, Yuqi wraps her arm around you, as if enticing you to stay. You shouldn’t have done this, but it’s too late: there’s no going back. You’re too lazy to close the door, and you have the girl you previously never gave a second look rubbing lazy circles on your stomach with her coated nails. Her hair draped all over your arm and shoulder, her eyes looking up at yours, acting all soft and innocent—

Until she starts talking again. “It wouldn’t be complete unless you cum inside me, wouldn’t it?”

The difference between her body language and her lips is night and day. Right then and there, you immediately recognize that there’s no other way this night will end. How your body moves at her will, how you immediately roll on top of her, as if it’s programmed to follow her every command. You have her legs pressed up and spread wide, her knees bent, lining your aching cock against the wet slit of her cunt. All while her features twist into a sickening, slimy grin in the slim shape of a lip bite. The fire, the desire—it’s still as bright as ever. 

And to make sure you aren’t second guessing the idea, her arms are coiled around your neck, her hands grabbing at your hair, pressing on your nape. Yuqi wants you—needs you—to fuck her silly; it’s the only way she can be satiated.

You watch Yuqi’s expression contort from anxious to messy, and the feeling is mutual. You slip in, slow and delicate, going against her instruction, and you almost lose it at the first stroke. The deep, guttural moan you make echoes throughout the entire apartment, while her firm walls pulse against your cock. It’s hot, it’s tense, it’s suffocating. 

“Shit, shit, shit—” you mutter, gently trying to pull back, but the fiery sensation burns, scratches away at your psyche, at your loins. “So—fucking—tight—Yuqi—fuck.”

“C’mon. Fuck me. Fuck me now.” She kisses your ear, her legs pounding against your hips, demanding you to move. There’s some serious intent behind her tone, a seamless blend of demand and impatience. “Use that big cock—mmm!”

You can only groan in response as you thrust back in deep, her grip on your body tighter than ever. And it’s more than just her cunt; she’s clinging onto you for dear life.

It hardly matters when you’re leaving sore, red marks on her skin or ripping through the blankets. It hardly matters when Yuqi can barely breathe. It hardly matters when you’re so loud that everyone can hear you. What’s important is you’re fucking her—and you’re fucking her hard. You both love the filthiness to it. There’s no rhythm, no pace, no flow; it’s one slow deep thrust, followed by a fast pump into her tight, inviting cunt. You become comfortable; you take her like she’s meant to be used.

And Yuqi takes your cock so fucking well. Bounces against every stroke with ease, as if the feeling is second nature to her. Knowing her, she’s probably been in this position more than you’d want to know or hear. You don’t really care about that for now. Even after what seems to be an endless cascade of orgasms, she’s still keening, still needy, still soaking wet that it’s alarming. Her back arches, melts deep into the cushion. She still wants more.

“So—fucking—good—more—need—fuck—”

The only noise you need is the mesh of your flesh slapping against hers, bouncing against her sharp cries of pain and pleasure. Reaching into the deepest, most sensitive parts of her pussy with your cock, this violent shudder rocks both you and Yuqi to your core. With each drag, more of her slick coats your shaft, and the easier you get access to her smothering heat. You can’t find the will to stop, not that you ever want to; she feels so warm, so inviting, so sloppy sounding to the ears that it’s driving you just as crazy as her.

It’s also driving you wild why it took you this long to fuck her—use her—like this. If you had known, you would have cared sooner. You’d have some leverage when it came to negotiations. A body like hers is too good not to have on speed dial.

Right now, it’s the least of your concerns. Not when you’re pounding a tight body like Yuqi’s so freely, hearing her demand to fuck her harder, like your life’s depending on it. Better late than never.

And it’s for the best that the moment happens later rather than sooner. She cums. Cums again. Eventually you’ve stopped counting, because there’s no point. The mere thought of you restarts the cycle, and your touch accelerates the process. The clutch of her cunt is too overwhelming to avoid at this point; it’s all but directly telling you to fill her, to unload all that pent up tension and need into her. The thought never bubbled up in your head even once; the idea of you and Yuqi with a child together. You never really questioned it. She goes out often, probably gets fucked multiple times in one night if she’s with willing company. She probably knew you’d walk in on her; hell, she’s probably got this whole thing planned out and Minnie is one of her accomplices. Maybe the entire time, she’s been yearning for you, because you’ve never heard her this passionate, this loud, this filthy in your life, even at her most inebriated.

“Inside me. Please cum inside me. I’m safe, don’t worry,” she whispers, as if she’s reading through your mind, reassuring you from your doubts. Her hand is palming your back, as if to line you straight so your cock directly hits her sweet spot. She sounds so pretty, it’s almost impossible to resist.

“Gonna cum,” you tell her, voice going hoarse, rasp, and she nods immediately in return, reinforcing the notion. She’s focused her effort on holding on, her legs tightly wrapped around your waist, her arms coiled around your neck, subtly pushing you against her hips. 

“This—pussy—so—fucking—God,” you mindlessly utter, averting her doe eyed gaze, desperate to cling to the last of your resolve as it quickly dissolves with each thrust. You’re on borrowed time and it’s quickly slipping away. Yuqi is tilting your face down to her, to her airy breaths, to her fluttering eyelids, to her passionate expression as you fuck her, pushing you over the edge. “Holy fuck, Yuqi—”

Yuqi’s lips part like a flower in bloom, and it’s a pretty sight. Yet it’s not enough of a distraction to keep everything from falling into place.

And God, it fucking burns. 

You swallow hard, but are unable to keep that groan suppressed. Your hips meet her halfway, your cock comfortably buried deep in her heat, and that’s where you come undone. Yuqi digs deep into your skin as it fills her—your cum—and she goes frozen at that moment. It’s a quiet, tense flash of silence. Afterward, she finally breaks. Cries out this deafening whine, her grip all over you loosening, time eventually catching up to her. 

She lays beneath you, completely limp, but her body remains trembling, shaking, seizing. You don’t find the strength to drag your cock from her heat; the feeling lingers. Endless ropes of cum gushing into her womb, emptying yourself, just as she wanted. Then you pull out, agonizingly slow, and more viscous slick gushes from her core. 

You feel guilty for that poor patch of soaked linen between her legs. It’s about as ruined as a collapsed power plant.

There’s little need for Yuqi to beg you to stay. The climax saps whatever energy you had left. You end up slumping flat on your belly beside her, both of you bathed in the afterglow of sex, exhausted from an already long day, too worn out to make another sound. And when you’re tired, any bed, no matter how messy it may be, is a comfortable bed.

—————

You already expected the scene at the breakfast table to be awkward.

And it was.

It isn’t until Yuqi calls you out standing at the doorway of her room that you realize you’ve been shooting a thousand yard stare the whole time. She waves at you, her cheeks red, flustered, chuckling. “Good morning to you, I guess. Put something on. I don’t wanna drink coffee while looking at someone’s dick. It’s gross.”

This time you’re the one unbecoming, completely in the nude while she got herself into some pajamas. Despite that, you hardly feel any guilt or shame, like this is a normal occurrence in the household. So you scramble to your room and get appropriately dressed. A look at the time and it’s already 15 past ten in the morning, an hour later than when you normally start work. Even more unusual is the absence of the laptop. It’s just Yuqi and her coffee.

Sitting opposite Yuqi, today seems a bit more tense than normal, and you can guess the reason why. She knows it, too. Neither of you are willing to break the ice, only shooting occasional glares at each other while sipping on coffee and scrolling through your phones.

“So, Yuqi.”

The words slip from your mouth, accidental, nearly silent. They follow the mild screech of the chair she sits on. When you meet eye to eye, she asks what’s up. What's on your mind? There’s a sudden barrier in your throat. You have a vague idea of what to say, but not the power to speak them. 

“About last night—”

Her lack of response is unnerving. The visible curiosity, the probable apathy. You and her possibly sharing the same sentiment: a feeling of regret. 

“I—I just wanted to say sorry. For last night. I should have just—”

“Sorry for what?”

You suddenly stop. This is not the expected reaction; it’s the complete opposite. A moment where you face the consequences of your actions.

Yuqi stands up and walks over to your side, beaming from ear to ear. “What we did last night was—fucking amazing. Don’t feel bad. If anything, I should feel bad because I didn’t tip you off sooner. We could have done so much more.”

You don’t pick up on the implication right away. It’s all strange, uncharted territory. Your previous flings were simple one-and-dones: a night of reckless, frivolous fun. Short, but fun nonetheless. They would disappear in the morning, never to be seen again.

“I didn’t think you’d walk through that door, especially since it was three in the morning,” says Yuqi, casual, running her fingers through your hair. “I got a bit too silly, as usual, but there’s a good reason for it.”

“And that is?”

“I got a job!” Yuqi’s gripping to your shoulder, the only thing keeping her from jumping for joy. “I got a job at the cafe with the pretty lady. I start on Monday.”

It’s certainly a cause for celebration. You can’t help but root and smile for her, caressing her hands. “Well, damn. Congratulations.”

“Yeah!” Yuqi’s wrapped you in a rather heartwarming embrace that you willingly fold into. “I had the interview yesterday, so I needed to lock in. Needed to be alone. Then I got accepted after, so I went and bought some drinks to celebrate.”

That doesn’t surprise you one bit. You’re just thrilled that she’s finally getting somewhere.

“So—does that mean I can kick you out once you get your first paycheck?” you ask her.

“I guess so. But—” Yuqi pauses, tilts your chin on an incline. She’s warm, radiant, pretty. She doesn’t care that you’ve worded yourself poorly and you’re taking it back; she’s still riding off the high from yesterday. You’re already counting the days before she leaves, and admittedly, you’ll miss that sight. “I’m gonna miss staying with you. Thanks for having my back when I needed it. I honestly don’t know how I will ever repay you.”

She tops it up with a quick peck on your lips. It’s all over your face, etched completely in red. The devilish grin. 

“I think I know exactly how.”

And that’s all that needed to be said.

Before you know it, you’re right back at square one: clothes scattered everywhere on the floor, her body pressed on the mattress, flat on her belly, your cock stretching her pussy out as you fuck her mindlessly from behind. This time in the comfort of your own bedroom.

All the more reason for you two to stay together.

—————

(A/N: fucksorryforgoingonanotherhiatusfuckfuckfuck—)

(Okay, but I really do wanna apologize for going on yet another unannounced hiatus. Final weeks of the semester were hell, then I was on vacation the week I promised this fic would be released (I'm basically the LeBron James of K-smut when it comes to lying at this point), not to mention a health scare courtesy of my mother. Some very hard times have hit me lately, so my mind wasn't 100%. Nevertheless, I am still standing (shoutout Elton John). Lots of free time throughout June and July, so hopefully nothing bad happens ISTG lemme have some peace for once and let me fucking write goddammit—)

(In non-personal news, Yuqi's solo was very fun and she's getting on that Yena level of bias where she's the perfect blend of cute and hot. Then she went pink recently and that made me :pphurt: Sort of a feel out fic before I *finally* finish these commissions over the coming weeks, thank you for reading!)

[courtingchaos]

Teeth

Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

Summary: You and Eddie are freaks. He has a little accident, you have a fun little hobby, and he shows you how he really feels about you’re whole Deal.

Warnings: Teeth. I mention them a lot. Blood, cursing, sex.

A/N: Did I start another blurb series before even publishing the series I was supposed to start last month? Shut the hell up oh my god why are you up my ass about it????

18+ NSFW No Minors

Eddie hooks his chin on your shoulder while you stare at the giant shadow box on the wall.

“Are they all human teeth?”

“Mhm.”

“Isn’t it illegal to own human remains in the US?”

“Well, remains and bones are different categories.”

He knew that would set you off, your phone pulled out for google to fill in your blanks. Eddie laughs at the first result, The Bone Room, and the two of you get a good chuckle out of it for a solid minute.

“Okay so I was wrong, but do you want to own a random set of teeth? What if they’re haunted?” Eddie watches your reflection in the glass front and can’t help but laugh when your eyes go big.

“One could only hope.” You whisper.

“Okay Morticia.” He leaves you to peruse the case of teeth while he wanders over to the weird clown doll corner. This was another little oddities shop you’d found online and asked to go to and he was more than happy to oblige. He also liked weird shit and there was usually a record store close to these kinds of places and of course you needed to find a coffee shop and it would always turn into a fun day date for the two of you.

When he finally gets away from the dolls he finds you at the main counter looking into the glass display while the clerk explains the jewelry inside.

“What’d you find?” He asks, bending directly in half to stare at the tray of rings in front of you.

“More teeth.” You give him an over the top smile that he returns, snapping his jaws at you while the poor woman behind the counter watches your flirting. She tells you prices instead of paying the two of you any mind and you hem and haw while Eddie just takes his wallet out to slide his card across the glass.

“Ed.” You don’t even look up at him when you warn him.

“Which one was it? Is it the big molar? It’s the big molar isn’t it?” He gives the clerk a scoff. “Can you believe this? I take her out here and she thinks I’m not buying her a tooth ring?”

In the cafe you’d found ahead of time you inspect your new ring while he chews on his straw, watching your rub the crown of the tooth.

“You really didn’t have to buy me this.” The barista comes over then with your coffee and a massive croissant. “Or that.”

“What? It’s a sweet treat for my sweet treat.” He tears a piece off and wiggles his eyebrows. “Also a sweet tooth for my sweet tooth.”

“Now you’re pushing it, Munson.”

“You love it.” He pauses when you kick his boot under the table and it turns into a violent round of footsie.

“Can I ask why teeth?”

“I don’t know. I just think they’re neat.” You shrug and fiddle with the ring on your middle finger. “They make a cool sound if you click a handful together. Very satisfying.”

“Yeah?” The smile is evident in his voice, even if you don’t look up to see it. “Sure there’s nothing else?” He goads, waiting for you to look up and narrow your eyes at him.

“And maybe I also want to crunch them like a sugar cube.” You make the exact face he thought you would and it makes him feel a warm coil of familiarity.

“There it is.”

“What?”

“I knew you wanted to do something weird with it.” His laugh turns into a cackle when you discreetly bring your hand up to click the ring against your front teeth.

“Okay so if it’s loose like…No I mean I can see it moving in the socket…ugh god, yeah…alright…” Your tone doesn’t give Eddie any hope and when you scrunch your face up while the dentist office tells you something longwinded, he sighs.

“How much? Oh shi- yeah okay. Thank you though.” You hang up and shoot him a steady look. “Guess.”

“I’m gonna loose it?” Eddie says, bag of frozen green beans held against his cheek.

“No shit.” You set your phone down and make your way to him leaned back on the couch. “You could potentially keep it for a cool $600 though.” Your hand replaces his on the slowly thawing bag and the sharp intake of breath isn’t from the new pressure on his bruise.

“$600 for one tooth?”

“Mhm.”

“Fuck it, I’ll just pull it.” Eddie sighs at the ceiling and closes his eyes. He’d been fucking around, trying to swing his guitar around his shoulders during practice. Had actually managed a few turns but when you’d come to pick him up he wanted to show off. A fast toss over his shoulder and he didn’t see the corner of the body barreling for his cheek.

Your loud gasp and a lot of blood down his front later, he was in pain and slightly humiliated but definitely not out $600.

“Will you help me?” He gently rolls his head your direction, his cheek cradled between veggies and your palm.

“Of course.” You smile sadly at him. “It’s gonna hurt though.”

“Yeah but I like that.” He wiggles his eyebrows and you slap his chest, t-shirt still stained red.

“Come on, ladykiller.”

In the bathroom he braces his hands on the counter while you try to find the best angle to pull his tooth out at.

“I’m trying to not just have my whole fist in your mouth.”

“That’s hot.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Yes ma’am.” Eddie grins at your flat look. You blindly grab the pliers from behind you on the vanity and take a deep breath before holding his mouth open.

“Please don’t bite down.”

“Eye hot yuh yiked hat.” He’s drooling around your hand and trying to be cute. It’s unfortunately working on you.

“Not like this, no.”

He feels the pliers on his tooth, a gentle tug while you rearrange and then you look at him. Eyebrows scrunched and a concerned look in your eyes. “You okay?” He nods. “This is gonna hurt baby, I’m sorry.”

He barely has time to process what you’ve said. He was waiting for a count down but instead you’ve yanked once, swiftly and without remorse. There’s a small clatter where his tooth bounces around in the sink and then he feels the pulse of pain. A new rush of blood floods his mouth and he doubles over the sink to spit and moan.

“You didn’t even warn me!”

“You would have bitched out and you know it.” You rub his back while he pouts and keeps spitting into the sink. When you disappear to get him a glass of water, he rinses out the sink and picks up his tooth to inspect it. “What tooth is this anyways?”

“The tech said she thinks it’s a premolar from what I told her.” You answer as you come back into the cramped bathroom. He pulls his lip back to stare at the dark space between teeth.

“You don’t already know which one it is?”

You just roll your eyes. “She did say it was good that you didn’t crack it, could have been worse.” You shrug and Eddie holds out his hand to you, tooth sitting in the middle of his palm.

“It looks cool.” He says, rolling it around until you pick it up gingerly and inspect it. There’s a little bit of blood stuck in the root but you keep turning it over, running the pad of your finger over the ridges.

“You’re gonna keep it right?”

“Duh.” He laughs. You hand it back to him and help him clean up from his traumatic afternoon.

A couple of aspirin and a hot shower later and he’s ready for bed, just waiting on you to finish in the bathroom. He watches your shadow under the door where light seeps out and runs his tongue for the umpteenth time through the new space in his teeth. He’s not trying to make it worse but it’s a foreign void that he can’t stop fucking with. The bathroom door opens and you’re already staring at him, head cocked to the side. “I can see you tonguing that spot from over here.”

“You’ve got a spot I can tongue.”

You don’t respond, just turn off the lights on your way into the bedroom where you climb over him on the bed. Before you can drop onto your side he grabs your thighs to hold you above him.

“Thanks for not laughing at me.”

“You looked pretty cool, right up until you smashed your mouth.” You brace your hands on his chest and lean in close. “The blood really distracted me.”

“Yeah that was quite a bit.”

“Still hot.”

He grins and you can spot the missing tooth in the dark before he pulls you in by your chin to give you a kiss. When he opens his mouth to deepen it, your tongue immediately finds the new space like his had. He laughs into the kiss and sits up on his elbows to be closer. It’s a slow make out session that he has no intention of taking further, mostly delighting in you running your tongue along the inside of his mouth, probing.

“What are you laughing at?” You ask, annoyed at him huffing into your mouth.

“You keep trying to feel it with your tongue.” He grins at you in the dark, features highlighted by the light seeping in through the curtains.

“It’s a new spot in your mouth for me to tongue.” You mumble and Eddie says something about tonguing your new hole and it devolves into a slap fight that ends with you two sleepily kissing again.

For a few weeks his tooth kicks around the house in a little ring box you had laying around. Jokingly he stuffed a scrap of ribbon in it and called it a coffin, started giving a eulogy to it every night after dinner.

“Craig had the toughest job-“

“I thought he was Neville?”

“I changed it. Craig is a working man’s name.”

“In what country?”

“Coal country.” Eddie jokingly bangs his fist on the table and continues on about Craig and his 52 family members.

Wayne comes by for dinner and sees this little atrocity and just stares at it for a good while, you and Eddie tight lipped trying to not laugh at his blank expression.

“I don’t know what to expect when I come over here, ever.” He’s not judging, in fact he’s almost too accommodating when him and Eddie disappear after dinner for a smoke on the balcony and he gives his nephew pointers on what dremel bit to use so he doesn’t crack the tooth.

“A matching necklace? Christ Eddie don’t tell me you knocked out two teeth!”

“No! I bought the ring for her, this was just a mistake.” Eddie gestures at his mouth and Wayne chuckles at him.

“Always gotta show off.”

“For her? No shit. If I don’t, she’ll realize how much better she can do.”

Wayne tilts his head and fixes Eddie with a stern look. “You know how I feel about that.”

“I’m kidding.” He tries to wave him off.

“Well I’m not. Who else is gonna bring her home a tooth on a chain?” Eddie can see how that makes Wayne shudder, even when he’s trying to be forcefully reassuring. He pats his uncle on the knee before standing and stretching.

“True. There aren’t any many of my kind left.” He says it wistfully, staring off the balcony into the dark until Wayne huffs at him to get inside and help with the dishes.

The bit dies off and the ring box ends up on your nightstand. Eddie thinks it’s a pretty romantic gesture the way you’ve given it a prime spot next to your Dracula figure. He also knows you’ll notice it missing so he takes the tooth when he gets home before you and knocks the box over and when you notice he plays dumb.

“Oh no, did you knock it over?” “No I haven’t been in your nightstand.” “Why would I take it?”

He brings it with him to work and Wayne refuses to touch it, instead standing off to the side and letting Eddie drill the minuscule hole. He texts you on his lunch and tells you he’s got some extra stuff to take care of, running late, don’t worry about dinner. He uses the extra hour to run by the antique store and buy a chain and he gets so lucky because you’re in the shower when he finally comes home.

Ring box stolen from your drawer and left oh so carelessly in the middle of the counter next to your big water cup. He doesn’t even change out of his shop clothes, just sits and waits for you to come out.

When you do, you give him a kiss in passing and then stop short in the kitchen. “Eddie?”

“Hmm?”

“What’s this?” You hold up the small red box and gently shake it at him.

“I made you something in art class today.” He says bashfully and leans over the arm of the couch to dangle his arms while you laugh at him.

“Aw, did Mr. Munson help you with your finger painting?” You pout at him and he flips you off. Your laugh cuts off when you open the box to stare at the necklace.

“Is this your tooth?”

“Yeah, I lied.” He grins at you, “I staged the crime scene.”

“You scum.” Your giggle gets him off the couch, the scrunch of your face makes him cradle your jaw, your whispered ‘thank you’ earns you a kiss and before you can fumble with the chain he’s pulling it out of your hands to loop it around your neck. He does the clasp up and smooths a hand down over the tooth.

“Oh you make that look better than I ever did.” His dimples push through his warm smile. “Almost like it was made for you.”

“God you are laying it on thick today huh?”

“I mean it, everything I am is for you.” He holds you close while you fiddle with your new jewelry. It’s so small for such a significant thing, at least to you. Especially when he starts talking like that. Eddie notices your pensive turn and pulls his head back to look down at you.

“Did I…did I read this wrong? Is it too much?” He knows he’s bad at that sometimes. He knows you like this stuff but maybe wearing a familiar tooth is a step too far. Maybe it feels like a weight around your neck instead of a thin rope of silver. It’s his turn to get quiet and he tries to pull away but you latch on around his ribs.

“This is the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever given me and it’s really weird and I love it a lot.” You mumble into his chest where your cheek is pressed tight. “Thank you.”

He watches you the rest of the night playing with it. Twirling your fingers through the chain and rolling the tooth around, staring down at it and once tapping it against your own teeth like you did with the ring. It gives him a new affection for you, to see you admire something he not only made you, but something that’s wholly him.

Later when he’s waiting for you in bed while you wander around and look for your phone, the intrusive thought he’d been keeping in finally breaks the surf of his mind.

“I’d knock out all my teeth for you.” He says it into the quiet and you pause at the foot of the bed to tilt your head at him.

“That’s so sweet.” You giggle quietly, the look you give him is contemplative.

“No I’m serious.” He leans up on his elbow to look you square in the eyes. “I’d hang ‘em all on a silver chain, drape them on you like pearls.” His stare gets a weight to it that makes you feel rooted to the spot. “I’d make you an altar out of them. Give them to you like little offerings.”

“You make it sound like I’m a deity you need to please.”

“Oh but you are.” He rolls up off his elbow to crawl towards the end of the bed and kneel in front of you. “Everything I do is in service to you and your good favor.” He splays a hand over his bare chest and you know he’s doing a thing but his wide eyed eagerness on his knees is doing it for you.

“And you’d hand over your teeth just for that?”

“I’d hand over my life.” He grabs your hand and presses it over his heart. “I’d leave imprints of my teeth all over you and then hand them over on a platter.”

“Why is this so hot?” You mutter at him, your body flush with heat suddenly.

“I know, keep playing along.” He whispers back, eyebrows twitching upwards. “I’m simply a vessel for your happiness and if that means sacrificing pieces of myself,” his hands settle up behind your neck to pull you down for a kiss, “then I’ll pull them all out by the root and leave them on the steps of your temple.” He keeps pulling you back until you have to catch yourself and climb over him, his lanky frame unfolding under you.

“Does that make you a patron or a priest?” You straddle his hips and break away from the kiss to stare at him, necklace dangling down against his cheek.

“I’m your most devoted follower.” He whispers in the small space between you two, eyes searching. “I’ve pledged my life to you.” His fingers dig in to your bare thighs. “Not for just a reward in the afterlife but in the hopes that you’ll grant me one look at your divine form.”

“Eddie!” You laugh at him and sit up, face and neck hot from his praise.

“What? I mean it! All of that for one…touch.” He slides his palms around to grab your ass and you laugh harder.

“That’s all you want? Just a touch?”

“Well maybe a long, continuous one.” He tries to slide his hands up further but you stop him at your hips. He looks determined to feel up your sides but your grip on his wrists holds tight.

“You wouldn’t want to anger your god now, would you?” His eyes widen at your sudden boldness. When you can tell he’ll sit still you unhand him to pull up the hem of your shirt slowly. “You give me a lifetime of servitude for a single touch?” Before you pull it over your head you give him a wicked a grin. “I’ll reward you with your single wish.”

He understands the game but his hands still twitch when you toss your shirt to the side, chest bared to him. You wiggle around until you get your underwear off, his hands still attached to you. He gets one touch and he won’t waste it, not now that you’re fully naked over him. You pull his boxers down, hands grazing sensitive skin and he pushes his head back into the pillow with a groan.

He clenches his jaw when you grind down on him, sliding over the head of his cock. His eyes rolling when you lean back and brace yourself on his thighs. You gasp with every roll of your hips and he whimpers.

“God damnit can I please touch you?” He grinds out through clenched teeth. The wet slide of your cunt has him breathing shallow and fast, the urge to buck up and fuck you settling low in the base of his spine. “C’mon, don’t I get some kind of fu-uck…” He stutters when your nails drag over his thighs. “You gotta show me some k-kind of mercy.”

“I’m already wearing a piece of you Eddie.”

His chest rises and falls, nostrils flared while he breaths heavy against his own willpower. The tattoos on his arms jump when he digs his fingers into your hips harder, an anchor he has to keep in place until you tell him he can move. “Why don’t you show me just how devoted you are?”

His first instinct, his first want, is to push you back and hold you down and make you sob about it. He’d like to hitch your legs up over his hips and make you remember the feeling of him deep inside for a few days.

But that’s not how you treat a goddess.

He slides his hands up your back with care when he sits up, his lips pressing softly into the space between your breast. He kisses up and over the necklace, warmed by your skin under it. Kisses up your neck until he has to pull your head down to meet his lips again. His fingers don’t grasp like they did a moment ago. They dance light over your skin, along the edge of your hair. They trace up under your jaw and over your cheeks, down your nose. He follows their path with his mouth, gentle kisses following gentle touch.

Your hips don’t move as rapid as they were and he uses it to his advantage. He presses up until he hears that gasp when he breaches you, soft heat clenching around his cock almost enough to set him off. He basks in the moment too long and you try to move your hips down against his but he makes a sound of protest, something in the back of his throat like a whine. “Give me a second, I’m having a moment with divinity.”

Your laugh travels through you, vibrations under his palms when you test his resolve again. Another gentle roll and he lays his face into the crook of your neck to mouth at you. Tongue running flat up the tendon on display when your head tips back and he finally buries himself fully. Your fingers wind in his hair while he snakes a hand between you, thumb finding your clit and you both groan when your movements speed up. He’s already too close, got himself all wound up in the role play but he needs you to finish first to put a nice bow on this evening.

“Y’really like it?” He pants against you.

“Of c-course I do.”

“Y’gonna wear it every day?” You nod and whine when he puts more pressure on his thumb. “Let everyone know what kind of freak you are.” You keep nodding and grinding down on him and that line of heat licks up his spine fast. “Gonna show everyone aren’t you?” He can feel your thighs trembling around his hips, knees digging in on every downward movement. “C’mon baby, wanna see it.” It takes him a lot of effort to pull his head up to watch you. Your chin tilted up, mouth hung open and panting, all for him. He can feel the tension building in you and can see the crease between your brows. The low whine that crawls out of your throat and goes on and on when he finally hits your peak.

He huffs, almost laughing at the way you break, amazed as always at the way you react to him. You sit flush against him and grind and pull his hair and his eyes roll back in his head, a line of curses spilling out of his lips that you catch with your own. He comes fast and hot, the edges of his vision going spotty while you keep his head steady and swallow all his grunts. In his foggy thoughts he can feel you run your tongue over the new space in his mouth, the feeling just foreign enough that it makes him shiver before he laughs again at your interest.

It takes a moment for you both to come down, you slouching into Eddie and making him fall back against the pillows, still out of breath.

“So I take it I’ve won your favor.” He grins up at the ceiling, running his hand over your back.

“You keep calling me a god, you can have whatever you want.” You roll on your side and nuzzle up under his outstretched arm.

“Don’t teeth have something to do with prosperity?” He snaps his fingers behind your head. “With all these new adornments, we’re gonna be swimmin’ in it baby.”

“Oh so that’s why you worship me, for my money!” You poke his side hard enough he flinches and curls around you suddenly, locking you into a hug and pinning you down on the bed. His lips brush your ear when he speaks lowly to you. “I worship you because you deserve it, the prosperity is a perk.” He keeps you close for a while until you both get too hot, sticky skin separating under cool sheets. He still has to touch you though and his foot finds yours while he reaches over to play with your necklace.

“I’m glad you’re cool with this.”

“I’m glad you’re cool with this.” You laugh. “We could have been having a much different evening otherwise.”

(Sacrifice for the read more)

[fandomnerd9602]

Only You

Bambi!Wanda x Reader

It all began when your doe-human mate Wanda skipped happily into the kitchen, her mind focused on asking you one singular question.

You were listening to Wanda’s favorite song on your Amazon dot.

Only you can make this world seem right

Only you can make the darkness bright

Only you and you alone can thrill me like you do

And fill my heart with love for only you

“Dance with me, detka!” She giggles as she takes your hand. The two of you sway to the music.

“Detka,” she smiled at you, “will you marry me?”

The question caught you off guard but happily off guard, “y-yes.”

“Good!” Your antler adorned mate hugged you tight and kissed you gently. “I want to marry you.”

“When do you want to tie the knot?”

“Tie the knot? Why would we do that? I wanna marry you.” She giggles, thinking that you were making some weird joke.

You and her didn’t talk about it much on the way to the Sanctuary but you found Wanda happily running around to the other hybrids, telling them the good news.

“I’m getting married! I’m marrying my amazing mate!!” She practically ran all the way around the Sanctuary grounds.

Natasha was practically laughing her wolf tail off as Wanda ran in. “I heard.” The red head wolf hybrid laughed, “can I be your maid of honor?”

“Sure!” Wanda giggles.

“Why do you suddenly want to be married?”

“I love my detka and I want to marry them.” Wanda found herself wistfully explaining. “I wanna spend my life with Y/N, I want to go to sleep in their arms every night, I wanna…”

“What?” Natasha’s tail wagged, “come on buddy, you can tell me”

“I want to have little deer babies.”

“Oh you scandalous doe!” Natasha giggled, earning a blush from Wanda.

“But I don’t know if I’m ready for kids yet” Wanda’s tail dropped a little, she sits down on her friend’s bean bag chair, “I still miss my boys”

Natasha gets down on her knees and hugs her friend tight. “Take your time. There’s no need to rush into a marriage. (Y/N) loves you and will understand”

Wanda couldn’t help but smile.

Meanwhile you took an early lunch and went with Yelena to a jewelry store you had your eye on.

“Why did you ask me to come with you and not sestra?” The blond wolf hybrid bemoaned.

“Because Natasha is with Wanda and I don’t want my mate to know what I’m up to. And I need you to keep watch as I browse the store.” You stepped into the store as Yelena kept watch.

You found the perfect ring. It was a gold band designed to look like interlocking vines and leaves with a simple diamond adorned at its center. You were just about to purchase it when suddenly Yelena tackled you to the ground.

“They’re here!” Yelena dragged you behind some tables. You looked under the table to see a familiar pair of legs and tails walking into the shop.

Natasha and Wanda walked in, happy as could be.

“Which one says I want to be your forever mate?” Wanda asked as she approached the wedding bands section.

“Any one of them, that’s the whole point.” Natasha smirked before a familiar scent caught her nostrils. You and Yelena.

She dropped to her knees and came face to face with the two of you. You gestured for her to stay quiet.

“What are you…you were gonna buy a ring?!” Natasha whisper-yelled, kind of happy and excited too. You hold up the ring you selected, Natasha smirked, “oh that’s very lovey but I don’t like you that way.”

“Steer her to another store, Fifi!” Yelena retorted.

“Fifi? Funny coming from you, sestra!” The two wolf sisters began fighting. You silently separated them.

“Gals, please this is the love of my life and I don’t want to ruin her special moment” you quietly begged them.

���I found it! The perfect engagement ring!!” Wanda called out with a giddy laugh.

Natasha quickly ran over and saw a simple band that looked like two antlers intertwined. Wanda looked to her friend with pleading eyes. Natasha peeked back to be sure that you didn’t see it. You could not.

“I-I don’t have any…” Wanda began to say.

Natasha gave a wave of her hand, “I’ll cover it.”

“Thank you” Wanda hugged her wolf pal tight.

“Just name your first daughter after me” Natasha said jokingly.

“Deal!”

The two bought the ring and left. You and Yelena got up from your hiding spot and approached the register. The cashier was practically laughing, “I take it your gal had the same idea?”

“Great minds,” you shrugged. Yelena stifled a laugh.

An hour or so later, Wanda was back in her friend’s den on the Sanctuary grounds, admiring the ring.

“Now you just need to find the perfect time to propose” Natasha smiled.

The sound of an aux cord plugging in caught Natasha’s wolf ears.

Only you can make this world seem right

Only you can make the darkness bright

Only you and you alone can thrill me like you do

And fill my heart with love for only you

Wanda rose from her seat, tears beginning to form in her eyes. It was yours and her song. Natasha peered out the den’s entry and smiled.

“You might wanna see this,” her wolf pal smiled.

Wanda walked out to see the Sanctuary gazebo decorated in Edison bulb lights and roses. Against the setting Sun, it looked heavenly.

And there under the gazebo roof was you, standing there with a smile on your face.

Wanda walked up the gazebo stairs slowly, tears of joy flowing down her face. You took her hands in yours.

“I love you Wanda Maximoff” you began. “I wanna spend each and every day of the rest of my life with you”

Wanda giggled.

“I wanna hold you when you’re hurting. And kiss you when you need a little love. I wanna raise a family with you and I wanna be there for you when we find your boys. And I’m gonna love you and them forever.”

“I love you.” Wanda whispered, “forever and ever”

You got to your knees and produced the ring, Wanda gasped. “Wanda, my doe, my love, my mate, will you marry me?”

Wanda got to her knees and pulled out the ring she got for you, “only if you will marry me”

“Yes” you smiled, tears forming in your own eyes.

“Yes!” She cries back. “Yes! Yes! You and only you!!!”

You slide the ring on her finger and she slides the ring on yours. A feeling of pure happiness takes over Wanda as she launches herself at you, knocking you to the wooden floor. She kisses you repeatedly, over and over, giggling against your lips as you held her tight.

The staff and other hybrids laughed and cheered as the two of you found each other lost in your moment. Natasha smiled and her tail swished back and forth happily.

It all started with a simple question. And it turned into a moment that you and Wanda would treasure forever. And you’d eventually tell it to Billy and Tommy: the tale of how you and Wanda ended up proposing to each other.

Tags @lifespectator @russianredassassin @revanshand @julieromanoff @multi-fandom-enjoyer @family-house-of-m @holiday-house-of-m @iiconicsfan25 @supercorpdanbeau @scarletquake-n7

[miyuuuki]

How about a fic where male reader goes out with they're husband to a sanrio store

✦ SANRIO ~ ♡ !

PAIRING: M!OC/M!READER

SYNOPSIS: your rich husband lets you spend money on your favorite thing, Sanrio.

A/N: Oc name is Osoro Rio!

“Hun, why are we going to the mall at 10 in the morning..?” Osoro asked tiredly.

“They’re having a sale! All Sanrio being 30% off! I can’t miss out!” you said excitedly, dragging him too the mall.

“Hun… the store doesn’t open till 12…” Osoro said.

“Oh..” you said, stilling at the realization.

“Oh well, I can spend money on other things in the mall!” You said happily, dragging him once more much to his dismay.

“Ooh, they have boba! Let’s go get some!” You said excitedly seeing a boba stand, running towards it.

“Hun, calm down you’re dragging me like a ragdoll…” Osoro tried saying, but you ignored already ordering two, memorizing his order.

“Seriously, a clothing shop? Hun, you have like a thousand outfits at home..” Osoro said looking around.

“So? Thrifting is fun, and better clothes then those designer companies. Barely know anything about fashion.” You argued back and eventually grumbling.

Osoro turned his head, before being appalled at the sight. You had your shopping cart already was 1/3 full.

You’ve been here for three minutes.

“Hun, you don’t think you’re getting a bit too much..?” He asked, still appalled.

“Nope.”

“I’m paying for all of this aren’t I..?”

“Mhm!” You confirmed.

“You’re also carrying everything!”

“Oh come on, (N/N)!”

“H-hun, a-are ya d-d-done?” Osoro shakily asked eyeing your cart, which was FULL. Full as in all the clothes were spilling out.

You looked around, before nodding.

“Guess I am, let’s go check out.” you mumbled.

The total was $987.87.

When you went to checkout, it was 11:20. Now it’s 11:56.

“Hun.. it’s 11:56.” Osoro mumbled, barely being able to hold on all the bags.

“The sales gonna start soon!” You gasped in excitement running away, leaving Osoro in the dust.

“Hun- wait for me..!” Osoro yelled after you.

“I’m just gonna drop everything to the car and come back..” Osoro sighed as he walked towards the exit.

Walking into the store, he realized how big it was. He turned his head and saw a depressed cashier, that was on the verge of passing out.

“Dang he looks rough..” Osoro mumbled, before walking ahead into the sanriotopia.

“Hmm… Sanrio nails, bags, supplies, ooh rings!” Osoro exclaimed.

Osoro took one that he deemed would fit you. He turned his head to look for you before seeing the same employee being yelled at by a Karen.

“My daughter wants that bag with the green frog on it! Tell that man to give it back!”

“Ma’am, I can’t do that. He got it first, just because your daughter wants it doesn’t mean he has to give it up…” the worker spoke tiredly.

“He is an adult! Where’s your manager!? I’d like to speak to them, and young man, where’s your wife!? As you’re clearly married, with that ring on you!” She yelled, causing ruckus.

Osoro turned his head to see the young man being YOU..?

“Ma’am, get out or I’m calling security.” The worker said sternly.

“Where’s your manager!?”

“He’s up my ass, I’m the only one who showed at work today. And I’m not taking bullshit, get the fuck out.” He said tiredly before kicking that woman and her kid out. Literally.

“And this green frogs name is Kerropi, and I have a husband too, get it right!” you yelled out at her.

Osoro sighs before walking up behind his husband, and kneeling on one knee.

“(N/N), will you marry me?” Osoro spoke with puppy eyes with the Sanrio ring in his hands, surprising you who turned around just in time.

“Osoro… we’re already married.” You mumbled, reminding him as you showed him your ring finger.

“So? We can still marry again!” Osoro grumbled not moving from his position.

“Fine, only cause the ring is cute and that everyones looking at us. Now get up!” You ushered him off the floor.

“Are you done, hun?” He asked you, peering down at your cart.

“No, I heard there’s onesies we should get matching ones!” You said, dragging Osoro once again.

“I don’t know how I can be taller then you, yet you still manage to pull me with you..”

“I’m just built different, Oso.”

“You’re hello kitty, I’m dear Daniel.” You decided giving him the onesies.

“Why am I hello kitty..?” Osoro asked, he was a man! No way was he gonna be-

“Because you act like a bitch boy sometimes.” You replied, not skipping a beat.

osoro sulked in silence.

“Oso, I’m just joking!” You chimed, already feeling him sulking.

“Ooh, oso they have hello kitty picture frames!” You suddenly yelled in excitement and awe.

“Are you gonna hello kittyify our house..?” Osoro asked starring at the frames.

“Mhm… you can’t do shit about it either.” You answered.

Osoro chuckled before patting your head.

Once you guys were finally done, you guys checked out. The same cashier being there.

He had prominent eyebags and looked gloomy, I mean I don’t blame him, imagine being the only one working at a store as big as a food court?

He had black curly hair, and looked like he could blow a bullet through the next persons head.

“Your total is $104.25… will you be using cash or credit? We don’t take debit.” He asked bluntly.

“Credit.” Osoro replied giving him his card.

“Okay thank you, bye. Come back never please.” The worker said slumping on the desk, falling asleep as soon as his head touched it.

“Jeez, a hundred bucks on hello kitty stuff??” Osoro asked, holding your bags.

“Mhm, now hold still so I can flaunt you and my stuff too my friends!” You said pulling your phone out.

two fics in one day, eat up my children!!

TAGLIST:

@call-me-nev @furotage @peedyharkyonut @nickey-diano

[faef43]

PLS LOOK THE REBLOGGED POST I MADE OF THIS POST TO CONTINUE MY TIPS

HERE ARE SOME TIPS PLUS STORES TO AVOID

ALWAYS ADDING MORE SO CHECK BACK

I’ve been lifting for awhile and have collected some good tips and tricks on how to not get caught or be put in a system

-CAMERAS/MAIN TIPS-

I mainly lift small things like makeup, jewelry, small skincare, rings, pins, if it’s a good day maybe small lotions, but lifting clothes tips are coming soon!! (fixing spelling/grammar errors <3)

First of all, wear a mask and if you can style your hair in a way you usually don’t or use a beanie, bucket hat, baseball cap, never a sun hat way too suspicious. Ex. for hair: braids, space buns, slicked back, etc. I wouldn’t suggest lifting if you have brightly colored hair unless you want to go as far as to wear a realistic enough looking natural wig. Never wear sunglasses with a mask or a hat on, very suspicious, they will catch on. While finding blind spots never just turn around to face the wall and start stuffing your pockets and bag(s), instead stand at a 3/4 angle and be slick, I suggest lifting things while walking through a crowed isle, section, or doing it while walking, this one usually works if you have something small you can make it look like you’re adjusting your sleeves. ALWAYS GRAB 2 OF THE ITEM U WANT 2 LIFT, make the second one less apparent you have it, but if you take two and always keep one apparently in your hand, the cameras will be fooled. You have to have some sort of fingernails to scratch off price tags/barcodes/stickers, trust me when lifting you don’t want those on there. Take them off, rip them up and stuff it in your pocket or stuff somewhere non apparent, never throw them on the ground, super obvious. Don’t wear all baggy clothing, it’s really suspicious, always do the half half trick, half of your outfit baggy, half tight. Ex. Really tight shirt, hella baggy pants, really baggy hoodie, tight ass jeans or leggings. That way they won’t suspect you. If doing the baggy hoodie, always wear a secure sports bra underneath if u wear bras, great for slipping stuff into when pretending to adjust your bra, make sure your double of the product you want to lift is visible. By all means do not steal from target, they have high trained LP, workers that dress up as normal shoppers that they send to areas where they seek suspicion to spy on you, they keep you in a data base and share info/pics of you with other targets, cameras are nearly always monitored, store security is present, they let you walk out with things but eventually will confront you. The decision to call the police has already been made, target is a scary place, if you are gonna lift do only a 3-6 dollar thing, only once. Their employees count clothes for dressing rooms often times, pretty scary place stay safe. Some cameras are smoke detectors/speakers,boxes on the ceiling ect. Usually they’ll have some sort of light that’s always on, they look a little chunky or too far away from the ceiling. Claire’s has a ton of these so be carful, but their earrings don’t have any censors on them so they’re a great store for beginners. Interact with this post and I’ll add more too this blog♡ . -CLOTHING TIPS- If a clothing store does not have fitting rooms, don’t even try, they’ll immediately catch on+security cameras are your number one snitch. You’re gonna want to pay attention to if store employees suspect you. Ex. Fixing up areas that you’re at or around u, constant asking if you’re finding everything ok, maybe they’ll offer a store basket or bag, asking if you need anything in specific, any constant attention really. If they are leave the store, come back like a week later and try again. Your gonna wanna bring a hook with you to remove ink tags/clothing alarms while in fitting room, keep it down and try to pick a fitting room away from others to avoid suspicion. Some stores have employees stand in empty stalls next to you and listen so be aware and careful. If there are price tags try stuffing them behind the mirror or on in the landings on the floor, they’re sometimes rubber, don’t leave shit on the floor, if they already suspect u, they’ll check the fitting room when you come out. As for the alarms/ink tags, put them in ur pocket and discreetly shove them in another piece of clothing, remember to ALWAYS CHECK POCKETS ON CLOTHING.im abt to max out, look at repost of this from me 4more

ALWAYS CHECK POCKETS/COMPARTMENTS ON CLOTHING. Other lifters could have stuffed clothing alarms or price tags in there, be safe and check before trying to lift. No as where to conceal these clothing items, if you have the baggy hoody, (I suggest wearing a baggy shirt underneath too, always wear that sports bra if u wear bras{binders can also work it’s just hella uncomfy I’ve tried it})put 1-3 tops on under ur baggy T then put ur hoodie back on. Make sure they don’t count items b4 going into changing rooms. If they do, try taking a hoodie on some sort of hanger, taking it off the hanger, putting 1-2 shirts on the hanger, then put the hoodie/zip up back on. Great for lifting, if they confront you say you didn’t know and you were just tossing things in the cart, get out of there fast afterwards. It’s suspicious if you come in with a ton of clothes then don’t buy anything, sometimes you gotta buy some to win some. (Ex. I’m wearing 3 shirts under my og shirt which would add up to about 35 bucks, I buy a cheap tank top for 15, they don’t suspect me and I get freebies)

[cowboythighs]

When Wayne took Eddie in, his biggest worry was that he was going to screw the poor kid up even more than his parents already had. After all, what did he know about taking care of a kid? How would he know what his nephew didn’t know- what Wayne needed to teach him? And how was he going to manage raising a whole little human and provide for them both? But to his surprise, Wayne soon found out that Eddie was shockingly self-sufficient. That he’d had to learn how to cook and clean and do laundry for himself, because his parents were too caught up in themselves and their own issues to take care of him.

Wayne’s momentary relief that he wasn’t starting from ground zero was soon replaced by a level of resentment towards Eddie’s parents. It wasn’t fair that Eddie had been forced to rely on himself so much. It hurt Wayne to see someone so young worrying the way he did about not using too much water; hurt watching Eddie silently going behind Wayne to turn off unused lights because he worried about the bills being too high to pay.

When he figured out Eddie's lemonade stand wasn’t set up to fund a new comic or toy, but rather to try and pay his share for room and board, Wayne took Eddie to the local thrift store and headed straight for the toys section. He was stern when he told Eddie to keep his money, and that they were not leaving until Eddie had an armful of his own toys because Wayne was determined to make sure Eddie had the chance to be a kid.

He watched as Eddie slowly pursued through the selection of toys- inspecting them carefully. When Wayne caught on that Eddie was looking at the price tags he gently admonished him; told him these are used toys; they’re cheap enough and that Eddie didn’t have to worry about money with him.

Eddie tried to argue, insisted that he knows how this goes and appreciates the thought, he really does think it’s nice that Uncle Wayne wants him to have fun stuff to play with, but he knew that just because they have money now it didn’t mean they won’t somehow come up short later, and how he’d much rather have heat than a GI Joe.

Wayne tried to be patient, to not to be as gruff as was his nature as he told Eddie “I may not be your daddy, but you're my boy and I’m gonna take care of you”. Wayne told him it was time to stop fussing and enjoy being a kid. Wayne allowed himself a smile when Eddie relented and picked out a handful of toys.

When they passed the book display as they walked towards the register Wayne stopped. “You like readin’?'' he asks. Eddie looks longingly at the books but only shrugs.

“Don’t know, never had any books to read”. Eddie says it like it doesn’t matter, but his face betrays him.

“They had books in school, didn’t they?” Wayne asked. Eddie just gave another shrug.

“Guess so. I didn't get to go to school very often. Mom and dad were almost always too tired or too sick in the mornings to take me. and we moved around a lot. When we lived close I could walk to school by myself as long as I had clean clothes. If you go to school dirty, teachers get too nosey," Eddie stated like it was common knowledge, “and then they call your parents and you get in trouble and have to move again. But mostly it was too far to walk so I couldn’t go anyways.”

Wayne’s heart felt like it was breaking anew with each detail of casual neglect his nephew had to endure. It wasn’t right for a kid so young to have gone through so much and be so nonchalant about it. Making up his mind he directed Eddie over to the books and told him he can have whatever he wants. There's a slim selection of children’s books to choose from, but it's a place to start.

Wayne watched Eddie's eyes as they kept wandering back to a boxed set with dragons and wizards on the spine. Wayne picked up the set of the Lord of the Rings books without a word and took the set up to the register with Eddie trailing behind. They were far too advanced for a kid his age, especially one as far behind as Eddie, but Wayne decided he would read to him every night. would read aloud the stories of Bilbo and Frodo and Middle Earth and watch Eddie's love for learning grow.

Wayne was proud when time passed and Eddie started leaving dirty dishes in the sink and letting his room get messy. He didn’t mind when Eddie took a long shower or stayed up late writing his own stories. Wasn’t disappointed when he got held back in school, or spent his free time playing games of make believe with his friends. Because he knew better than anyone that Eddie had a rough start in life and had been playing catch up for a long while. And besides, it gave him a chance to be a kid just a little longer, and there was nothing Wayne wanted more than that.

[dumbslxtclub]

what abt eddie x powered reader , he doesn’t know she has powers and they’re best friends, they are both too scared to admit their feelings and he goes on a date w another girl , so reader and eddie argue and she cries but when she does the lights r flickering and hes so confused but she has to confess eventually

delicate in every way (but one) | e.m

eddie munson x powered!reader

content warnings: fem!reader, adult language, adult themes, angst, hurt/comfort, some canon divergence/au, reader is 19, angst, FLUFFY fluff, no use of y/n, minor themes of anxiety (power related)

word count: 3.3K+

a/n: hi everyone, sorry for the hiatus!! life has been crazy lately, so I'm excited to share this request with you all xx

Shuffling through the chaos you call your locker, worry creeps in that, in your morning rush, you left the assigned Geometry homework in your bedroom. Casting your mind back, you recall having your jacket in one hand while you nudged the front door open, toast jammed in your mouth, and something in your other hand-

A ringed hand slams down on the locker beside you, causing you to jolt at the sound of metal on metal. The Cheshire-cat grin spread across your best friend’s face indicates his satisfaction with your reaction, the brunt of his weight finding the doors.

“T’s not good for you to think that hard. Causes wrinkles, y’know?” 

“You’re gonna give me wrinkles, Munson.” Eddie smiles, always up for a banterous exchange between the two of you. He places an unlit cigarette between his plump lips, nestling the white filtered tip between rosy flesh. “Seriously?! Are you trying to get detention for the third time this week? I’m getting you to class if it kills me.”

Snatching it out of his mouth, you shove it into the worn leather adorning his chest. He dramatically falls back into the lockers once again, causing a raucous crash to echo down the depleting hallway. The remaining students turn their head in your direction, muttering indistinctly about the metalhead’s antics. After years of friendship with Eddie, your cheeks no longer burn at the judgemental attention, it’s a hazard of the trade. Besides, you have your ways of leveling the playing field with your best friend when needed.

Closing the locker, Eddie trails behind you like a lost puppy, as if he has no clue where his next class is. To be fair, you don’t doubt that that might be true, given his attendance record. Homework in hand, you trudge along making sure Eddie hasn’t wandered off like an irresponsible child in the grocery store.

“So, wanna hang out after Hellfire tonight? Got the new Iron Maiden tape the other day, but what kind of friend would I be if I listened to it without you?” The scuffling of worn Reebok’s on the linoleum flooring ceases behind you, an exhausted groan leaving your lungs. “Eddie, c’mon-”

“I, uh- I can’t hang out tonight.” Spinning on your heels, you shoot him a look of confusion.

“Okay? That’s cool, dude. But we’ve really gotta get to class so-”

Like trying to drag a stubborn mule, you grasp at Eddie’s wrist in a desperate attempt to move him. Shooting you a shit-eating grin, he plants his feet firmly, relishing in watching you put your back into trying to get him to budge.

“Don’t you wanna know what I’ve got planned?”

“Judging by how much you’re annoying me today, I’d say you’ve got a hot date with your right hand later.”

Eddie’s cheeks flush slightly at the insinuation, shaking his head sheepishly.

“No, well- you’ve got the first part right.”

Releasing his wrist from your tug-of-war, you stumble back slightly before you process this new information.

“Really?”

“Shit, don’t sound so surprised, sweetheart.” Eddie quips, words dripping with teasing sarcasm.

On one hand, you’re not surprised at all. Eddie is indisputably gorgeous. Large chocolate-brown eyes, a jawline that looks like it was carved by the gods themselves, and the kindest heart you’d ever encountered. In your eyes, he was the full package. Key word being your. It was no secret that Eddie’s reputation preceded him around town, he didn’t exactly have girls lined up around the block waiting to date him. But you knew how he could exercise his charm, when given the opportunity and perfect victim.

“With who?” Poker-face on, you try to sound as detached as possible.

“Maggie. You know, the new girl?”

Oh, you knew her alright. You watched as she unpacked her perfect little life from a U-Haul a few months back, moving into the white picket house across from yours. Though you hadn’t had any real interactions with her, you noticed how easily things came to her. Within her first week at Hawkins High, you witnessed her riding her bike home in a brand new cheer uniform, having been quickly indoctrinated. But on the weekends, she’d often help her mother tend to the garden in a band tee before jumping in her second-hand station wagon to make the most of a Saturday night with no curfew. With brown curls somehow perfectly imperfect, sultry eyes to rival Susanna Hoffs and a carefree attitude, it’s not hard to see how she could have any man swooning for her. Eddie, being no exception. Your mind begins racing over how they could have met, Eddie did seem especially cheerful on Monday after going to a concert that weekend. The one you were supposed to go to, if your mom hadn't found the vodka stuffed under your mattress and grounded you. Is that how they met? Fuck, maybe if you’d been there…

“Yeah, I think I know the one. What’re you guys gonna do?”

Eddie joins you side by side, thankful that you can now speed-walk to disperse some of the nervous energy brewing.

“Think we’re gonna go and see Friday the 13th at the drive-in cinema. They’re up to, like, the sixth one now so I imagine it’ll be a bit of a snooze-fest, but it’s all that’s on that late.”

Great. Eddie and a girl, alone in his van. At the drive-in cinema. Cuddled up watching a horror film. Picturing it is enough to make you want to vomit into your backpack. 

“Sounds fun.” It does not, in fact, sound fun.

Thankfully, the final bell signifies your impending tardiness, causing the two of you to bolt to Geometry.

It’s hard to focus on what Mr Watts is talking about at the best of times, but your mind is fixated on Eddie. In your heart, you know he deserves to have a good time. He’s a gentleman, any girl would be lucky to date him. But the green-eyed monster had her ugly talons stuck deep into your back long before now. It’s getting harder and harder to suppress your growing feelings for your best friend, stealing glances at him any chance you get. But it’s not worth the risk, not with all you have to lose. He’s your rock, the only person on this planet you can talk to about anything. And you’re not about to jeopardize your friendship over some silly crush. And yet, you also can’t help but feel an unfair notion that Eddie is somehow to blame for this. It could be so easy to misinterpret his naturally flirty nature for romantic intentions. How he opens every door for you, makes you mix-tapes of your favorite bands, picks you up for late-night drives to get the best view of the city. Every action is another addition to a precarious house of cards, doomed to collapse. Glancing over at Eddie, he is absent-mindedly tapping his pencil against the wooden desk. On any other day, it wouldn’t bother you. But today, it’s enough to drive you mad. Honing in all of your attention on the pencil, your gaze remains fixated on the object. All you can hear is the tap, tap, tap flooding your ears, his stupid rings reflecting light across the room. You furrow your brows, take a deep breath, and-

The pencil launches out of Eddie’s hand, clattering to the ground beneath him, drawing the attention of half the class.

“Mr Munson, could you please for once pay attention?” Mr Watts, clearly unimpressed by Eddie’s interruption, earns a few sniggers from students around him.

“Shi- sorry, Sir.” Eddie, completely baffled by what just happened, leans down to pick up the pencil. A smile creeps across your lips, and Eddie follows the pencil beneath your desk. Retrieving it, a worried look washes across his face as he glances up at you.

“Woah, you okay?” His tone is hushed, as not to draw any more attention to himself. You’re now acutely aware of the small stream of blood trickling from your nostril, wetting your upper lip in a metallic maroon. Quickly swiping it away, you pretend to busy yourself in your notebook.

“Yeah. ‘M fine.”

Call me when you get home safely.

The golden rule, never to be broken. Words uttered like gospel every time you and Eddie part ways at the end of a long night, a foundation in your friendship. After Hellfire wrapped up, you elected to drive home separately as Eddie wanted to head straight home to freshen up for his date. With a firm embrace, you muttered the words to him as you had countless times before, him nodding in acknowledgement against the crook of your shoulder.

12:46am. 

Eddie would have been due home an hour ago, accounting for time he and Maggie might have spent chatting away in the car after a disappointing slash-fest. Yet the corded phone beside your bed remains neglected, heavy-lidded eyes glancing over at it sporadically as you try to busy yourself in a book. 

What is taking him so long? He never forgets to call unless-

Unless he’s still with her. Images flash through your mind's eye, Eddie driving Maggie around town blasting the music you’d shown him. Pulling up to one of your usual hang-out spots, smoke filling the back of the van as the two swap spit on the end of a blunt. Ringed hands slipping under the soft cotton of her shirt, grasping at soft skin as the pair-

Nope, not going there. With a huff, you throw your book haphazardly to the side and flick off the bedside table, praying sleep will come soon.

You allow the phone to ring off the hook all of Saturday. You have no interest in talking to Eddie right now, your social battery drained at the mere thought of feigning interest over how his date went. And so, you keep yourself occupied, willingly cleaning your room just to have something to fill the dead space of time. Rearranging the trinkets on your windowsill, you spot a figure crossing the adjacent lawn. Maggie unlocks her bike from the patio railing, placing a bag in the wicker basket attached to the front. You try to pry your gaze from her, but something catches your eye. A band tee, one you haven’t seen her in before, hangs loosely on her frame, faded and gray from years of love. It’s familiar. Similar to the one that you bought for Eddie last year, thrifting it as a birthday present after scraping pennies together. Probably a coincidence, you tell yourself, bile building in your throat, failing to convince yourself. 

The phone rings a handful of times throughout the day, a fragment of the white noise reverberating through your head. Drowning out the voices, the self doubt, only to fuel the fire just as imminently. With your parents out of town for the weekend, the house feels desolate. An echoing chamber of solitude, combated by the unwanted images flooding your brain. You should feel happy for Eddie. He deserves love. But god, why does it have to be her love?

Against all odds, the barrage of thoughts ceases long enough for you to doze off on the couch, granting you a fleeting moment of peace. A moment cut short by a sharp and firm knock at the door. Maybe if you ignore it, they will go away, leaving you to your nest of despair. But it doesn’t. The knocks grow louder, more intense, causing you to groan as you pry yourself off the couch. Curtains ajar, you see the dusky sky outside casting shadows across the faintly lit street. Flicking on the floor lamp as you pass into the entryway, the knocking incessantly continues.

“Alright, I’m coming!” Post-nap grumpiness is in full flight as you swing open the front door. Eddie stands before you, leather jacket hanging off his slim frame, wallet-chain catching the last light of the day. But instead of his usual goofy smile plastered on his face, he looks entirely unimpressed.

“Oh, she lives!” His words are dripping with sarcasm, not waiting for you to invite him in.

“What are you doing here?” You quip back, shutting the door behind you.

“Y’know, just making sure you weren’t dead in a ditch somewhere. Forgive me.” Eddie paces straight for the living room, charged up with too much energy.

“Okay, well, as you can see-” You gesture to yourself with a flourish, “-I’m not. So, you didn’t need to waste gas driving out here.”

“Since when do you not pick up the phone? I’ve been trying to call all day!” Eddie’s typical jovial tone is nowhere to be found, instead having been replaced by dourness.

“God, sorry. Didn’t realize you’d only pick up the phone when it suited you.”

Eddie’s eyes squint slightly, incredulous as he absorbs your comment.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” God, men are thick.

“You never called to let me know that you got home safely. I sat up half the night waiting for you to ring, and nothing! But I’m sure you lost track of time with Maggie-”

Eddie’s eyes narrow, the logical side of his brain working overtime to figure out why you’re being so short with him. But as soon as you drop Maggie’s name, the puzzle pieces click into place.

“Is that what this is about?”

“Is what about?”

“This!” Eddie gestures with his hand in your direction. “This attitude you’ve had going on for days.”

“Oh my god. You’ve woken me up, stormed into my house and accused me of having an attitude. So forgive me if my hospitality is lacking, Eddie!”

“Does it have something to do with Maggie?” His question is point-blank, and it catches you off guard.

“No!” You blurt out a little too quickly, doing little to convince him.

“Do you not like her or something?”

“Why do you care if I like her or not? You like her, and that’s all that matters. So can we just drop this?” 

Blood begins boiling beneath the surface, a harbinger of emotions close to spiraling out of control. You need a second of solitude, to bring everything back to baseline. It’s happened with your family, even with bullies at school, but never been in the presence of Eddie for. It scares you, how your powers can lash out before you do, and you don’t want Eddie to be caught in the crossfire.

“We need to talk about this-”

“No, we don’t!”

“I just don’t get why you’re acting like this-”

“Eddie, you need to leave.”

Heart pounding in your chest, breath growing a little too fast for your liking. Pulse racing against the delicate skin of your neck, tears brimming close to the precipice. A quick glance over to the one illuminated lamp in the corner confirms your fears, the bulb flashing indiscriminately behind Eddie’s shoulder. Thankfully, his stern gaze remains fixed on you.

“No! I’m not going anywhere until-”

“Eddie, please-” An unsteady breath betrays you, voice cracking on your last word while a tear escapes your lash line. White noise clouds your brain, a haze forming around logic and control. Even with your eyes pinched shut, the glow of the frantically flickering lamp remains visible behind your lids. Eddie’s voice grows muffled, a scrambling of sound waves assaulting your eardrums and causing you to buckle over. Instinctively, your palms clamp down over your ears as you do your best to count to five. Feel the soft carpet beneath your socked feet. Smell the fresh flowers your mother placed in a vase next in the entranceway. Taste the metallic blood dripping from your nose, finding its way into your parted lips. Anything to bring you back to reality. And it’s not working. 

Not until two firm hands grasp your shoulders, and you distantly hear Eddie’s voice calling out to you.

“-Hey! Please, look at me…”

A deep, diaphragmatic breath is required as courage to pry your damp eyes open, and take in the image before you. Eddie is crouched down, level with you, eyes wider than you’ve ever seen. He looks terrified. 

“Oh my god-” He quickly throws his arms around you, tucking you in tight to his chest. His familiar musky scent is comforting, grounding you in a sense of safety. 

“‘M sorry, Eddie.” Words barely louder than a squeak, Eddie tightens his grip around you and pulls you in closer.

“Fuck, I thought-” His chest rises unsteadily, voice quivering. “- that was, it was just like Chrissy.”

A sharp pang of guilt hits you deep in your gut. The lights. The zoning out. He’s seen it before, a year ago with Chrissy,  and you never considered how triggering it might be for him to witness the effects of your powers out of context.

“I’m okay.” It takes everything for you to pull away from him, but you need to offer him the same comfort he’s granted you. “I’m sorry, I should have told you.”

“Told me?”

You can’t help but chuckle at how weird it is to say out loud. 

“You know how El has powers? Well, I kind of do too.” Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up, disappearing beneath his mess of bangs. “Not like, to the same extent. But sometimes, if I get overwhelmed or experience some sort of strong emotion, shit like that happens.”

Eddie is speechless. Not that you blame him, it’s not every day you learn of your best friend’s superpowers. His eyes dart around your face, as if searching for any indication that this is a joke. But as your expression remains serious, his whole demeanor softens.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Wasn’t safe.” You reply, shaking your head. “I mean, look at El. I just- I didn’t want to put you at risk.”

“No, no. I get it.” Eddie’s hand absent-mindedly brushes some of your hair out of your face. “You said it happens when you feel something strong. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pushed you-”

“No! It wasn’t that, I’ve felt it coming for a while now.” Chuckling sheepishly, you quickly wipe away any remaining tears from your flushed cheeks. 

“What, were you like, jealous or something?” Eddie laughs, his signature grin creeping across his face. At his question, you feel your breath catch again, smile faltering minutely. Eddie doesn’t miss this, and he leans in a little closer. “Oh my god, you were, weren’t you?”

“You don’t have to rub it in, asshole.” You give him a small shove to the chest, an embarrassed laugh catching in your throat. His hand catches yours, trapping it in place between his palm and the cotton shirt. Your eyes focus on the shirt. Grey, worn from years of love. The one you’d thrifted for him as a birthday present last year. And your heart swells.

“So, let me get this straight.” Dimples settle deep into his smile lines as his gaze bores into you. “My best friend has powers, and a crush on me?”

Your free hand finds its way to your face, running down the length with exasperation.

“Yep, pretty much. And you can add jealous bitch to that list too.”

“Well, as it turns out, Maggie is a total dud. Ran off half way through the film because she spotted some of her cheer friends in the parking lot.” 

“She didn’t!”

“Oh, but she did. Although, it wasn’t all bad, meant I could smoke the rest of my stash to myself. Aaand then I passed out in the back, woke up the next morning and came straight home.” “Sounds like a shit drive-in date.” Eddie chuckles, shaking his head.

“Sure was. Maybe you and I could right some wrongs next Saturday? My treat, think of it as my apology for not calling.”

You can’t contain the grin threatening to spread across your face.

“It’s a date.”

[aphrogeneias]

𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰 — 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

summary: it's getting harder and harder for eddie to hide his feelings for you, and an unexpected visit from his bandmates may accidentally change everything.

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

warnings: eddie's pov, some playful jealousy. "you give love a bad name" only came out late 1986 (october, i think?) but i could not resist mentioning it here.

author's note: changes were made here as well, some major editing was done.

series masterlist

3.

“You just like them because you think they’re cute.”

This wasn't the first time he'd had this conversation with you. Beside your daily debates where you seemed to always be on opposite sides of, Eddie liked teasing you about liking mainstream artists for their looks — it wasn't because he secretly liked fantasizing about himself being the rockstar who was the object of your desires.

Not at all.

“Is that jealousy I hear?”

From where he stood, following you around the store as you went through the rows of records, carefully re-organizing the mess left behind by a full day of customers, Eddie felt his face redden, heat rising from his cheeks as you playfully mocked him. “That’s not what I meant…”

“Don’t worry,” your eyes caught his, and instead of hiding, he just melted under your gaze, “I’m sure Jon Bon Jovi isn’t gonna come sweep me off my feet any time soon."

Pretending that the image of a man — any other man but him — sweeping you off your feet didn’t phase him, because it shouldn’t phase him at all, he just mumbled a “Who says I’m worried?”, under his breath.

“Besides, you were humming to You Give Love a Bad Name just the other day when it came up on the radio, don’t think I didn’t hear you.”

“What can I say? That shit is catchy.”

Eddie’s flustered state, grumbling and fidgeting with his rings while you seemed unaware of his predicament, didn’t just come from being caught red handed, letting himself get jealous over a band you liked. He was scared, scared that you’d find out he’d caught feelings for you. Somewhere along the way, he stopped seeing you as the girl who kept him company on his lonely days, someone who he liked talking to, and started seeking comfort in your presence, longing to be near when he was away, dreading the times where he had to leave.

It was too late to tell himself not to get attached, he was already past that point.

He wondered if you knew. It wasn’t like he was such a great actor, you’d caught him staring at you more times than he could count - all the times you’d made him a question and he didn’t answer because he was too busy looking at the way the light hit your eyes, or at how delicate your hands were compared to his, and thinking about how it would feel if you were to touch him, or what it would be like to touch you under those annoyingly tight band tees you were always wearing. You had to at least suspect that he wasn’t coming all the way here just to annoy you with his incessant shenanigans.

Before he could gather his thoughts and change subjects, the bell above the door chimed, announcing the arrival of two people. It startled Eddie to watch Gareth and Jeff walking in, shoulder to shoulder, matching shit eating grins on their faces.

He felt his heart racing as he mouthed at them from where he stood beside you, “What are you doing here?”

When they got to the aisle where you were in, while you were still blissfully unaware of the company of his bandmates, Eddie tried, and failed, to act as casually as possible.

“Hey, man. Aren’t you gonna introduce us to your girlfriend? It’s about time.” He knew Gareth must have practiced this, intended on making a fool out of him, and it was working, because Eddie was speechless.

“She’s not my girlfriend, dickhead.” He deadpanned. While he was struggling to keep it together, you looked amused, looking back and forth between the friends. He composed himself enough to introduce you to his friends, finally telling them your name.

“So, this is the infamous Corroded Coffin.” You recognized, greeting them with a bright smile, making Eddie feel that surge of irrational jealousy all over again.  “I heard a lot about you.”

“What a coincidence, we heard a lot about you too.” 

This wasn't supposed to be happening — but Eddie should have seen it coming.

They weren't exactly lying when they said they'd heard a lot about you. The first time he had ever mentioned you to his friends was when he was late for rehearsal one afternoon, after losing track of time while he spent time with you. Since then, they’d been relentless, teasing and accusing him of hiding you from them, talking about you during Hellfire meetings, which made Dustin and Mike get on his ass about you as well, questioning him about who’s the girl that had finally gotten past his façade.

Maybe they were onto something when they said he was hiding you from them. He wasn’t doing it on purpose, but the moments he had with you were special, they were his, and he didn’t want to share it with anyone else. The days he spent with you, in your own bubble inside the record store’s walls, pretending as if the outside world didn’t exist and his only focus was you - watching you work, sharing more than just music with you, making you laugh - were his, and he didn’t want to risk losing that.

Losing you, though he never really had you in the first place.

“What have you been telling people about me, Munson?” He could tell you were having fun by the way face lit up, shouldering him as he stood by your side. “Only good things, I hope.”

“Oh, no, only the best.” Jeff commented. “Honestly, he’s head over…”

“You know what? I know why you’re here!” Eddie pushed forward, interrupting his friend before he could make everything worse than it already was. He kept his act, now standing between the two boys, passing his arms over their shoulders, “I’m late, aren’t I? I’m late again, and we have to leave!”

“C’mon, Eddie, they just got here!”

“Yeah, Eddie, we just got here.” Gareth echoed your protests with sarcasm. “What if we just wanna buy some records, huh?”

“All you want is to be a pain in my ass, that’s what you want.” He gritted through his teeth, turning to Gareth, and already pulling the boys by the collar of their shirts and away from you. “I’m sorry about these miscreants, sweetheart, we’ll be taking our leave now.”

A chorus of Sweetheart? and I thought you only called your guitar that left his friends’ mouths, which only made his face burn more as he guided them out of the store and into the street. Inside, all you did was laugh, an adorably befuddled adorned your features as you waved your goodbyes.

He would never be able to live this down.

[loveinhawkins]

Part 1 Part 2

At night, the shivers start for no reason.

Dustin changes into his thick winter PJs, gets blankets from the linen cupboard as quietly as he can so he doesn’t wake up his mom.

His room is stuffy, but he can hardly feel it—knows that by all rights, he should be suffocating in the heat. There’s sweat on his forehead, his chest, dripping down his back, but as he wraps himself up tight in the thick cotton layers, he can’t stop himself from shaking.

His dreams are vivid, feverish.

He’s sitting with his shield next to him, blades of grass scratching at his palms. He can hear Erica laughing, but it sounds wrong. Distorted.

Then he lifts up one hand in front of his face. It’s drenched in blood.

The gasping sound of someone choking.

“D-Dustin.”

Eddie. Eddie lying on the grass, staining it red, there’s—there’s so much—

“Dustin, p-please.”

There’s an awful gurgling noise from Eddie’s throat. Dustin feels sick.

“You—Dustin, you—you’ve gotta keep it in. Please, please.”

Eddie’s crying, his hands weakly grasping at the ground, slipping in the puddles of his own blood.

“Help,” he sobs. “Help me.”

Dustin tries. The blood runs through his fingers.

“Steve,” he whispers—tries to scream, but the fear has stolen his voice. “Steve.”

Steve isn’t coming.

They’re alone, and Dustin can only watch, frozen, as Eddie convulses, gasps for air; he’s dying, he’s dying, move, do something—

He wakes with a start to his mom knocking on the door.

“Dusty, have you overslept? Can I come in?”

Dustin sits up, runs the back of his hand across his eyes. “Yeah,” he says, but it comes out hoarse; he has to stop, clear his throat. “Sorry. Yeah.”

The door opens.

His mom takes one look at him and says, “Oh, honey. No school today.” As she gets closer, her eyes flicker over the bed, the blankets, his PJs. “Are you cold?”

Dustin nods. The sheets cling to his skin, damp with cold sweat.

His mom gently runs a hand through his hair, checks his forehead. “How about I run you a bath, huh? I’ll call the school.”

Dustin’s too exhausted to bring up the fact that she’s going to be late for work if she stays much longer.

He takes the bath—once his mom has left the room, drains some of the tub so he can fill it up with scorching hot water.

When he gets out, there’s multiple tins of soup, fresh bread, and crackers on the counter; his mom’s bringing a couple meals out of the fridge, some microwave ones, too.

“Just giving you options, hon,” she’s saying, “eat whatever you’d like, I’m going to the store later. Oh, I filled up Tews’s bowl so if he complains at you, the sweet thing is lying.”

Dustin makes a wordless noise of thanks.

His bed has been stripped; new sheets and blankets have already been put on, which makes him feel a pang of shame. The window’s been left open the tiniest bit, just to let some air in, but his stomach immediately drops at the sight.

“Dustin?” His mom’s looking at him searchingly. “Honey, I can call off work—”

“No,” he says quickly. Subtly digs his nails into his palm to try and stop himself from shaking. “No, mom, m’just gonna be boring and sleep.”

She’s still frowning, but he’s gotten good over the years at knowing what expression to pull, putting just the right inflection in his voice that silently says don’t look any closer, don’t worry. She leaves him with a gentle kiss on his cheek, with her work number written down on a notepad, makes him promise that he’ll call over even the smallest thing.

He makes the promise knowing that he won’t.

Closes the window as soon as he’s alone.

-

The phone rings early afternoon. He sluggishly does the math in his head for Steve and Robin’s shift patterns this week. They always try and call if he’s sick, whenever the store is quiet: when he had tonsillitis last winter, miserable with it, they gave running commentary on the day’s most ridiculous customers, passing the phone between them until he fell asleep.

Pick up the phone, Dustin thinks.

But he feels inexplicably heavy, lets it ring and ring and ring…

The nightmare seems to flicker in front of his eyes, a lingering unease deep in his gut. He thinks of Steve, of calling for him and not getting an answer, which would never happen, which could only mean the very worst—

He stumbles out of his room and picks up the phone, interrupting Robin’s breezy customer service spiel to mumble out, “Sorry, think I missed a call from—um, is Steve there?”

“Afternoon, Einstein! You just missed him, he’s getting lunch, but he’ll be back in, like—”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Dustin says, feeling stupid and abruptly, mortifyingly young. “Just… just checking.”

There’s a fraction of a pause.

“Hey, Dustin?” Robin says, quieter now. Gentle. Dustin wants to cry. “You can wait with me, you don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. Are you—”

He hangs up.

-

Time slips away from him. It’s only after the school day’s over that he realises his mistake: that when he’s sick, he usually whines and complains, asks for updates every class, even if it’s just whether Mike’s added to their drawings left underneath their cafeteria table.

He’s kept his walkie off all day.

He searches for it, clumsily turning in his bed, and when he switches it on, it’s to hear Mike repeatedly asking, “Dustin, do you copy?”

“Here,” Dustin says blearily, then remembers himself. “I copy. Over.”

“God, finally,” Mike says in that short way that means he’s been desperately worried. “You okay? They marked you off sick in home room, but I didn’t—”

“M’not really,” Dustin says—doesn’t know what he is, honestly. “Just. Kinda tired. Over.”

“Okay,” Mike says, after a pause. “Um, Nancy says if you feel better, she can pick you up tomorrow. And we can—you don’t have to do anything, we can just, like, chill in the basement. I was, uh, talking to Will, and he thinks he knows what Eddie’s plot twist is, and I think he’s got it, honestly, I—”

“Tell Nancy thanks,” Dustin says, “but I… I don’t think I, um—”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Mike says. “No problem.”

The walkie falls silent, and Dustin gets the feeling that a few other conversations are happening on another channel. Then there’s a click, some static, and a voice again.

“Hi,” Lucas says. “Didn’t wanna wake you up if you were sleeping, so I, uh, used the spare key under the flower pot to drop off some stuff. Not—not homework, don’t worry.” A tiny chuckle. “I’m not a sadist.”

There’s some space left there, deliberately so. Dustin knows he’d normally make a joke. He can’t.

“Just some assignment marks came back,” Lucas says. “Hey, you got an A on that paper, the one about—”

“Thanks,” Dustin says.

He sounds blunt. He hates it.

“You don’t need to thank me, Dustin,” Lucas says softly. “But you’re welcome. Hope… hope you feel better.”

Dustin swallows.

More quiet. Another click.

“Hey,” Max says, as if nothing’s happened. “I’m behind on English, so I’m just gonna read out loud, I need to know there’s an audience or it’s not gonna stick. No complaints, my education’s on the line, Dusty-Bun.”

Max isn’t behind; Dustin knows this. He doesn’t complain.

She reads The Outsiders for at least twenty minutes. Things get hazy after that, because Tews comes in and settles on Dustin’s chest, purring, and Max’s voice fades into background noise.

Perhaps the phone rings again, but it sounds so far away, he could’ve dreamt it.

He wakes up at the sound of his mom opening the front door, the soft jangle of her house keys. He vaguely hears her play the answering machine, and he’d recognise the rise and fall of that voice anywhere.

Eddie has this rambling way of leaving a message, like he’s really having a conversation with someone rather than just talking to a machine. Dustin can’t make out the words from here. Wishes he could.

His mom enters with a fresh water glass and soup on a tray.

“Eddie called,” she says, with that warm tone of voice she’s used ever since she truly met him—when he watched her with wide eyes from a hospital bed and choked out, “I-I’m not—it’s just a stupid board game, I swear.”

“Hmm?”

She smiles at him. “He was just calling to say hi.”

Dustin smiles back weakly—knows that Eddie would’ve taken at least five minutes to even get round to that point.

-

This time, the terror comes when he’s wide awake, when it’s three o’clock in the morning and his heart pounds for no reason at all, breath catching like he’s been dumped into a cold, cold lake.

Dustin’s felt frozen before, but when Eddie…

It wasn’t like Max in the graveyard, where Steve shouting for him to call Nancy and Robin helped him snap out of it, gave him something to do.

He was alone.

He was alone, and he didn’t know how long it had been since Eddie had stopped breathing. He tried to count, and the numbers turned to static in his head.

Stop the bleeding. Help him breathe. Move. Fucking move, you’re killing him, you’re—

A light on in the hallway.

“Dusty? Oh, baby, breathe.”

Dustin tries. Chokes on it.

And his mom is leading him to her room like he’s five years old.

“There, sweetie, that’s it. Shh, breathe, breathe.”

Dustin half-collapses into her bed, and her bedspread is thick, but he’s so, so cold, and he can’t catch his breath—

“Shh, Dustin, shh, you’re okay, baby. Oh, honey, it’s… it’s the earthquake, isn’t it?”

His mom is holding his hand, guiding his breathing. In. Out.

“There. There you are, well done, baby. I’m going to call Steve, okay?”

Dustin tightens his grip on her hand. Gasps out an urgent, “No.”

It could be a bad night, could be a night that Steve needs all the rest he can get—

“Oh, Dusty, shh. Okay, honey, I won’t, won’t. Not right now.” She hugs him. “You know you can tell me anything? Always.”

Dustin closes his eyes.

I can’t.

-

He pretends to sleep. Feels his mom leave the bed. Hears her on the phone—can’t make out the conversation.

His heart’s beating rapidly again. Breathing short and sharp.

He slips into his room. Opens the window. Crawls out.

Shock of cold air. Rain on his skin. In his eyes. Blinks it away. He’s on his bike with no memory of deciding to do so. Lungs burning. Pedalling faster, faster—

He hits something, something stupidly small, a pathetic rock, but he goes down, like a kid freshly off training wheels.

Dustin wonders if this is how Eddie felt. If even while on the bike, he could still sense how close to death he was.

And it’s stupid, it’s so stupid, it’s not remotely the same, but as Dustin lies there in the rain, his palms and knees stinging, he kind of feels like he’s dying, too.

A car horn sounding, over and over. Like a desperate shout.

Dustin can’t breathe.

Clunk. A door opening. Footsteps. Running on gravel.

I didn’t run away this time, right?

“Hey! Hey, hey, hey. Dustin, look at me.”

Steve. Steve’s hand on his shoulder.

Dustin shudders, exhales. “I-I’m okay, I’m okay.”

“Jesus. Woah, woah, take your time.”

Steve lifts him up so carefully, avoiding Dustin’s hands from digging further into the dirt.

Dustin blinks, sees Steve’s frown, the way his eyes are darting all over him until they land on his knees.

Oh. He’s bleeding.

“Come on,” Steve says. “Here. Lean on me. I’ll drive you the rest of the way.”

And it’s only as Dustin hobbles over to Steve’s car that he realises what he’s done.

He’s biked almost all the way to Forest Hills.

[ahappyplacefornat]

Hey :》

What about Nat being a mom for her kids while she is still working for shield as the black widow?

Have a nice day or night!!!

The black widow as a mom

Word count: 1328

Summary: Natasha has to handle three kids plus being the black widow. A hard task.

Pairing: slight Natasha Romanoff x gn!neutral reader.

Warnings: none

None: It took me real long to finish this request, I hope you like it and please let me know if you see any mistakes! This is also way shorter than I wanted it to be, let me know if you would like a part 2 :(

So, one would think Natasha is perfectly capable of handling three kids and a job as a spy for SHIELD, right? 

Well, that’s right, she is. But it is certainly not as easy as she and her partner thought it would be.

First of all and probably the question she made herself the most, why were they so bad at timing?

I mean, yeah, they’re kids, but everytime they would call her, she was always doing something dangerous that needed her complete attention.

But her kids were always gonna be first.

In the middle of an interrogation, a phone started ringing. To be oddly specific, Nats phone started ringing from her purse. Damn it! she thought, how did she forget to leave her normal phone at home and bring her work phone with her? it probably had something to do with her partner suggesting it was a good idea to buy THE SAME PHONE twice, since the second one would be cheaper, she couldn’t believe she let them take that offer.

“So, what do we have here?” One of the men in front of her took the phone out and read from the screen the contact name: “Honey”. His face instantly brightened up as he stared at the screen, that wasn’t a good sign. “Here is what’s gonna happen, darling. I’ll let you answer the call so you can reassure your little ´honey´ you are ok” he smiled “then we will keep talking and maybe you’ll see them again, are we clear?” 

“As water” she answered, with a side smirk before getting to answer the call. As soon as she did, she heard a loud set of laughter that she could recognize everywhere. 

“Mama, you sure took your time to answer” it was Yakov, the oldest. After that, she swears she could hear Irina tell him to hurry up.

“Hi, baby. Is everything okay at home?” a suddenly calming voice got out of her mouth, it was always so warm talking with them. But she needed this call to end as soon as possible.

“Yeah, umm” the only thing she could hear was his breathing, that got her a little worried. She was already holding her own “The responsible adult that was supposed to take care of us left like fifteen minutes ago to the grocery store” He meant their parent, he was always the sassy one “And we don’t have a clue on where the cheese is so we can make some sandwiches…We thought maybe you knew, do you?”

And she obviously did, it was in the fridge, at the bottom, as always. She sighed.

It was actually kind of refreshing to have your kids asking the most silly question at the worst moments, she was gonna give them that.

It wasn’t their fault, after all, the only thing they knew about her job is that sometimes she would run into Captain America or Thor and that “wasn’t a big deal”.

She knew they thought that she was a cashier close to the avengers tower. Sometimes, she wishes that was true.

It got a little more complicated when her middle child started a tantrum because she wanted to go with her on the “bring your kid to work” day.

Don’t get her wrong, Natasha LOVED her kids more than anything, she was grateful everyday for them and to finally have a family with the person she loved the most, but sometimes they were too much. By too much she didn’t mean annoying or anything related, they were just…special.

Out of nowhere, she found herself walking to the store next to the Avengers tower, holding the little hand of her daughter while she tried to hide her face under a pair of sunglasses (thanks, Steve). Both went inside the little shop called Iron-Groceries and started walking through every corner.

“Soooo…this is where mama works” said the little girl, with a little spark of disappointment on her voice “I was expecting something better”

“Were you?” Natasha couldn’t help but let a giggle get out of her mouth “You do know I never said I worked here, right?” Nat got on her knees to speak clearly with her daughter, tapping her forehead with her finger “You just assumed that, baby”.

“Well, yeah…” accepted the shorter one, a bit ashamed “But you always refuse to tell us what is your work about and I was excited to think of you as the most beautiful cashier to EVER exist” while saying ever, she made sure to draw a giant circle with her hands, Natasha thought that she was very, very wrong when she believed that she couldn’t love her kids more.

“How about we buy some chocolates and go to the exhibition of ironman at the bottom of the tower, would you like that?” Said the redhead, feeling incapable of stopping her smile.

To be completely honest, the most difficult part for Nat wasn’t receiving strange calls during her missions or getting mistaken as a cashier.

It was always going to be the fact that she was missing important moments of her kids' lives because she couldn't risk being recognised or she was too busy with work.

School events? never. Doctor appointments? Not even dreaming. Dinner with the mothers of the other kids at school? Maybe she didn’t miss that one so much.

She was always sad everytime she needed to leave.

Watching their little eyes water whenever she said she wouldn’t come back in a few days.

It never failed to break her heart.

But there was ONE thing she would never miss.

she would always turn down any mission she had just to take her youngest kid to the optics so he could get new glasses.

She was never gonna regret that.

Standing in front of the store, with her little boy in her arms, both had a confused look on their faces. They had so many options, from red to purple glasses to big and small frames. It was never an easy decision, the hour and a half that they already spent there was proof.

“I think I want the blue ones, mama” Exhaled the blond boy, trying to make up his mind. Kind of tired even if he wasn’t touching the floor at all to stand.

“Do you? last week you said you wanted black ones, to look cool at kindergarten” She said, looking at him with a tiny smile.

“Yeah, I do” He said, so sure of himself that even Nat felt confident with his decision.

“Well, let’s go then” she reaffirmed him on her side and began to walk inside the store, but just before she could get fully inside, the little guy spoke.

“But maybe the yellow ones…” and there Natasha could sense another hour and a half coming for them. 

She wasn’t expecting Fury to be happy as soon as she went back, since she clearly told him this was only going to take twenty minutes. She grabbed her baby’s cheek and left a kiss there, followed by many others as his laugh only got her to feel even more tempted to never stop. All this time was never a waste. 

There is not much more to say about this, but maybe we could finish talking about the rough days, the end of those to be more specific.

After dealing with everything involving her three kids and her job, there was nothing more delightful than laying on bed with her loved one.

Just feeling the back of her arm being calmly touched in little rounded forms at night was enough to get her realizing that everything was more than worth it.

She would sleep like a tree, being the little spoon after tiring days and sometimes sharing her bed with one of the kids if not all of them.

She would definitively put her phone in flying mode, never wanting to bother her little family with working calls in the middle of the night.

[farfromharry]

The night we met | Dating Stiles Stilinski

pov: you’re dating Stiles Stilinski

Summary: The formal was meant to be a fun, carefree evening between you and your boyfriend. However, after growing concerned for your new redhead friend when she leaves early in search of her ex, you follow her. You could never have imagined the pain and chaos that would ensue after making such a simple deviation.

Word count - 7802

Warnings - language, heavy mentions of blood, injury and hospitals, mentions of minor character deaths

Based on: season one, episode eleven + twelve

. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ The night we met, Lord Huron ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ .

━━━━━━━━━♡♥♡━━━━━━━━━

Your weekends were officially being ruined by Scott and his ridiculous ideas. First it was babysitting Jackson, now it was spending hours searching for his seemingly missing phone, you could only imagine what he so wonderfully had in store for you the next weekend. And you were sure it’d be just as great as the last two– Note the heavy sarcasm.

You’d given up, resorting to lying on his bed and just resting your head in Stiles’ lap to watch your friend search through every inch of his bedroom for the device, getting your boyfriend to call it every few minutes in hopes of hearing it ring. But after the hundredth time you and Stiles’ had concluded it wasn’t there and he was wasting his time. “Call it again,” he demanded. 

“It’s not here,” you whined, sick of hearing the same conversation over and over. Stiles just rolled his eyes at Scott’s comment, pressing on his contact yet again. He let it ring, none of the three of you, even with Scott’s wolf hearing, able to hear it. “So you lost your phone, why don’t you just get a new one?” Stiles asked.

“I can’t afford a new one. And I can’t do this alone. We have to find Derek.”

Stiles frowned, raising his hands like he was shocked. “Well, A, you’re not alone. You have us.” You nodded, flashing him a smile when he spared a glance at you and Stiles. “And, B, didn’t you say Derek walked into gunfire?”

You perked up. “Sounds pretty dead to me,” you muttered. 

Scott didn’t appreciate you joining in to agree with the brunette, especially considering your comments weren’t helping. He headed into his closet next to search for his phone, rather angrily if you had to assess his body language. “That wasn’t the Argent’s plan, they’re not gonna kill him.”

He really wasn’t understanding why this was such a big deal to his friend. It all seemed pretty obvious to him, just don’t get involved and then everyone’s safe and gets what they want. “Then just let them do what they’re planning. They use Derek to get to Peter, problem solved.”

“Not if Peter’s going after Allison to find Derek.”

“He has a point,” you mumbled, eyes flickering up to your boyfriend’s face. He glanced down at you in mock offence, bringing his hand up to cover your mouth so you couldn’t make any more comments in Scott’s favour and not his. “I can’t protect her on my own.”

“You probably lost it when you two- Y/N!” He pulled his hand away with a small groan of disgust, staring down at your smirk as he wiped your spit off of his hand onto his jeans. “You probably lost it when you two were fighting. You remember that? When he tried to kill you.”

You added. “While you tried to stop him from killing Jackson.”

He growled quietly under his breath, growing sick of Stiles’ comments about Derek. He didn’t understand why he a, hated him so much and b, had no faith in who he was as a person. Scott thought Derek seemed like a pretty cool guy, and he was trying to be as helpful as possible. 

“He wasn’t going to kill anyone. And I’m not letting him die.” He had clearly made his mind up on this decision. He seemed incredibly tense, so you tried to lighten the mood a little bit. 

“Could you maybe at least think about letting him die?” you questioned. His head snapped in your direction, assuming a question like that would’ve come from Stiles not you. You continued with a sickly sweet smile that was meant to try and persuade him. “For Stiles.”

He didn’t say anything, but he suddenly paused, his head tilting closer to his bedroom window. You and the brunette next to you shared a look before you sat up from where you’d been resting in his lap, eyes focused on Scott’s stiff figure. 

“What?” Stiles asked.

“My mom just got home from work.” He was acting strange and you didn’t understand why. You were growing increasingly concerned. He was listening in to whatever she was doing but that included him going quite for minutes on end while she did whatever it was she was doing. He sighed loudly and slouched back against his wall when he finally turned his head away.

“Scott, she okay? What’s she doing?” you asked. 

“Crying.” You frowned, glancing over at Stiles sadly as Scott came and sat next to you on the end of his bed. You sweetly placed your hand on his arm, squeezing gently to tell him it’d be okay. Your boyfriend tried to reason with him a little bit, but both of you knew your friend wouldn’t take the advice.

“Scott, you can’t protect everyone.”

He shook his head, responding quietly. “I have to.”

»»——⍟——««

Stumbling upon your friends sneaking glances at Allison and a terribly nervous looking Jackson from behind a wall honestly didn’t shock you anymore. You just sighed and approached them, your curiosity being piqued on whatever they were doing. You lightly placed your hand on Stiles’ backpackless shoulder. “What are you two up to?” Your sudden voice startled Stiles, the boy bringing a hand up to clutch his chest where his rapidly pounding heart lay. 

“We need Jackson to take Allison to the formal cause Coach just banned Scott from going.”

You frowned, Scott had told you recently how excited he was to ask Allison if she’d want to go with him, and you could only imagine the disappointment he was feeling having to ask him of all people to do it. You could see the irritation written all over Scott’s face, but it wasn’t exactly justified knowing he was the reason behind the encounter anyway.

Stiles’ could obviously sense his friend’s discomfort too. “Hey don’t worry. I’ll still be there.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, this being the first thing you were hearing of Stiles confirming he was going, considering he had yet to ask you to go along with him. You'd gathered he just wasn’t going. “Oh you will, will you? Who are you planning on going with?” 

Stiles brought his hand up to his face, pinching his nose as he sighed frustratedly. “Y/N, can we please talk about this in a second?”

You moved to protest, opening your mouth to tell your boyfriend you wanted to talk about it now considering he’d been putting it off for so long, but Scott beat you to it, bringing the subject back to him. 

“I’m still going,” Scott announced, drawing both sets of eyes back to him. Your conversation had apparently been forgotten, pushed to the side for later just like he’d said.

“Is that such a good idea?” Stiles asked. You huffed at how he’d just brushed you off. You’d been trying to hint to him for the last couple days that even though you were dating you’d still liked to be asked to the Formal by your boyfriend, but he had yet to pick up on a single one of those hints. Without a word you left the pair to whatever dumb plan they were going through with, heading over to your locker where you could busy yourself with absolutely anything else until they stopped being dumb. 

In Stiles’ case it actually took a lot less time than you thought it would, the boy sliding his arms around your waist to announce his presence. His lips quickly brushed your cheek, but you still hadn’t turned to face him or even look at him yet. “So, miss Y/L/N, do you have any special guy you might want to go to the formal with?” 

You were still slightly pissed at how easily he’d brushed you off earlier, so you weren’t planning on letting this conversation go the way his boy brain was expecting, at least not simply.

“Not unless he hurries up and asks me,” you muttered. “I don’t think Isaac Lahey’s got a date yet, maybe he’ll ask me.” 

You felt Stiles' body back up from yours, his hands shifting to your shoulders to spin your body around so you were facing him. “Y/N, what’s that supposed to mean?”

You huffed, frowning at him at how obvious you thought you were being, yet he still didn’t pick up on the issue. “You haven’t asked me to go to the formal.” 

His face dropped, his eyebrows drawing together in intense confusion. “B-But we’re dating. Who else would you go with?” He really hoped you’d ignore the second part of his question, he didn’t want you to even think about listing off possible bachelor's you could go with when he was standing right there.

“No one,” you confirmed. “But I’d still like to be asked, Sti.” He could sense the upset now, it was practically smacking him in the face so how could he not? He sort of just gathered you would. You hadn’t really mentioned it so he thought you were either going with him or not interested in going at all. He was too dumb to realise you were actually waiting for him to bring it up.

A sense of guilt settled in his chest, but he’d go as far as getting on his knees to beg you to go with him at this point if he had to. Whatever it’d take to make you feel better.

“Well, Y/N Y/L/N, most beautiful girl I’ve ever met,” he took your hand in his, bringing it up to his lips to press a quick kiss to each of your individual knuckles. “Will you do me the honours of going to the formal with me?” 

The way you shuffled nervously was adorable to him, clearly he was making you nervous and although not his intention he still wanted to bask in the way he could make you feel.

“I’d be honoured,” you chuckled. His face lit up, hands landing on your hips so he could press a celebratory kiss to your sweet lips. He pulled back a moment or so later, your lips still puckered and your eyes delayed in their flutter open as you slowly arose from your daze.

“So, now that we’re officially going together, do you already have a dress?” he asked, leaning in closer to brush his button nose over the skin of your cheek. You tried your best not to flush, forcing the heat threatening to take over your cheeks back down so he wouldn’t know how flustered the littlest of his actions made you.

“Maybe,” you answered, shrugging your shoulders. He cocked his head. “Do I get to see it?” 

“Not until the dance.” 

That was the last thing you said before compiling your stuff together and heading off down the hallway to your next class, leaving your boyfriend standing there in the same spot with a slight gape on his lips. He called after you. “Don’t just leave me hanging!” 

»»——⍟——««

Actually, you didn’t have a dress already, you just didn’t want Stiles finding out you were going dress shopping with Allison and Lydia later, mainly because he’d insist on coming with you. Or he’d make some comment about you hanging out with Lydia, and you didn’t feel like trying to explain why you were doing that. 

You’d only really agreed to go to try and get over this petty dislike of Lydia you had, she deserved to make another impression that wasn’t blurred by an incorrect piece of knowledge that was overwhelming you.

That’s how you found yourself behind them on the way into the mall where Lydia was planning on buying Allison a dress. You barely heard it being something to do with her upsetting Allison in some way and this was her way of apologising. You supposed it was fair depending on whatever she did, but you weren’t going to pry and ask. 

Allison wandered off quickly, leaving you alone with the other girl with a knowing smile. You’d never outright told her your feelings about her, but she could probably pick up on the anger and tension you felt whenever you were around the redhead. 

You actually would’ve been happy dress shopping alone, what with how many Lydia was currently looking through, but you kept reminding yourself you were doing this for her. You had to get over this petty attitude. But she was really making it difficult with how many dresses she kept thrusting into your arms.

“You’re going to try all of these on?” you asked, the pile growing by the second. She hummed quietly, saying she’d help pick out a few for you too, although you believed you were more than capable of doing it yourself. Speaking of, she pulled one of the racks and you could physically see the way her eyes lit up, lifting it up by the hanger to hold in front of your body. A grin formed on her lips and she rapidly nodded. “You’re dating that Stiles kid, right? The weird one.”

You frowned, deflating slightly. You thought she was being nice for once, but hearing her try and diminish your boyfriend irritated you a little. You felt the need to defend him. “He’s not weird.”

She gave you a stern look like she didn’t believe you. Of course Lydia would think anyone who wasn’t in her friend group was weird. “But you are dating him?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, once he sees you in this, he’s going to literally die.”

The thought made you Stiles. You having the power to make Stiles so weak in the knees that he literally couldn’t do anything but blush and stutter, sounded pretty appealing. You were snapped out of your thoughts when you felt Lydia locking her fingers with yours, tugging you along with her to the changing rooms. This was your time to have a little girl fun for once. You loved your best friends, but constantly hanging around with no other girls didn’t leave you much chance to do typically ‘girly’ things. At least with the two girls your day wouldn’t be spoiled by werewolves or other supernatural creatures.  “Come on, let’s go try it on.”

And that’s exactly what you did. You had to admit she had good taste, you were pretty in love with it yourself. It looked good and made you feel good, and you were sure that would mean Stiles would love it too. You admired it in the mirror for a little longer before you were planning on letting Lydia judge it. It was a beautiful shade of red, tight in the right places, loose in the others, god this was gonna drive him crazy. 

You couldn’t wipe the smile off of your face when you stepped out of the curtain for Lydia to see. She squealed quietly, nodding her head rapidly as she confirmed that was the dress for you. You’d never been around Lydia long enough before to see this side of her, the side that actually seemed like a genuinely sweet girl. She wasn’t shy with the compliments, telling you stuff like if you weren’t already taken then she might have to snatch you for herself some time.

“You look so hot,” she said. All the sweet words were going right to your head, and your face as you felt it heat up. “I think this is the one then.” 

You changed out of it with the intention of buying it, so you could see Lydia try on the array of dresses she picked out to try. You knew it’d take a while but you were already having much more fun than you expected, so you didn’t think it’d be too bad.

She tried on dress after dress. Of course every one of them looked amazing on her, but there was one specific one that just stood out from the rest, it was definitely the one.

She obviously thought so too, as she didn’t spare a second thought before purchasing it and dragging you around the store to find Allison.

“I’m really glad I came today. I hope we can hang out again some time,” you told her honestly. It wasn’t that everything you felt towards her from before had gone, not all of it, but you hoped with more time that it would. She grinned, nodding her head and giving your hand a squeeze as you approached the girl you’d been looking for.

“I’d actually really like that. You’re a lotta fun to be around, and I’m sorry for brushing over you for the last few years.”

Now was your chance to put everything behind you. You stared at her with eyes drenched in hope. “Friends?” you questioned.

She confirmed. “Friends.”

»»——⍟——««

You were the one to ask Stiles to text you on his arrival, not wanting to give your family, specifically your little brother, the chance to embarrass you when he showed up at your door. So when you got that exact message you’d been waiting for, you rushed down the stairs and offered your parents a quick farewell.

They of course followed you to the door though, wanting to see their little girl go. Even if you wouldn’t let them gush over you and Stiles to your face, they could still do it from a distance.

Stiles’ eyes were on you the second you stepped out of your front door, giving him the perfect full body view of your outfit for the night. He straightened himself up from where he’d been leaning against his car door, a quiet gasp leaving his lips at the mere sight of you.

You were his girlfriend. Holy hell how did he manage that.

He was in such a trance at the sight of you that he barely registered how long had passed, or that you were speaking to him. You were feeling the same-ish way about how he looked in his simple, yet adorable, suit, but you still had the ability to speak. So you supposed you were doing better than him.

“You clean up nice, Stilinski.” He was still frozen in his spot as he watched you approach where he was standing outside his jeep, his jaw gaped slightly. You finally met him in his spot and he reached out for your hands, interlocking your fingers together sweetly.

“Wow. You look fucking incredible.” He didn’t waste a second before he stepped forward, planting a loving kiss on your lips that left you wanting an endless amount of more. You tried to ignore how warm he was making you feel inside just with the way he was looking at you. There was clearly so much love in his eyes when he looked at you and you just wanted to scream from the rooftops about how much you loved this man.

“I’d kiss you more but your parents are watching,” he whispered. You groaned, leaning your head against his shoulder through embarrassment as he just laughed at you. “It’s not funny, Sti.” 

After composing yourself, you turned your head over your shoulder, glaring at your parents to try and silently tell them to go back inside. Your mother rolled her eyes, listening to your wishes, while your dad stayed standing there.

“Have her back at a reasonable time, Stilinski.” Stiles nodded, opening the passenger door for you to climb into his car. He assured your dad you were perfectly safe with him before he hopped into the driver’s side.

“You ready?” he asked, grin on his lips as he flicked the engine on. You took the chance to place one more quick kiss to his irresistible lips, nodding your head happily. “Let’s do it.”

Pulling up to the school you let out a content sigh. You were about to spend the whole night dancing with your lover and just having a good time. To make matters better, the boy even hopped out of the jeep to open your door for you, pulling a laugh out of you that was music to his ears. “M’lady.” 

“Such a gentleman.” This time you didn’t hesitate, pulling him in close by the material of his shirt and kissing him, hard. Now that there were no prying eyes you couldn’t help it, relishing in the feeling of his slightly chapped lips on your lip gloss covered ones.

You only pulled away long enough for him to shut the car door, and for you to see Jackson leading Allison towards the building. “Oh, hey Allison.” You purposely didn’t greet the boy on her arm, a certain distaste for him having really built up over the last few weeks.

“Hey, you look great,” she complimented. You ignored the clear eye roll from Jackson, holding back one of your own at how much you wanted to punch his dumb face. “Thank you, so do you. Have fun tonight.”

She nodded, flashing you another smile before heading off inside with her bore of a date. You couldn’t imagine she was actually going to have any fun unless Scott showed up. Not that you really understood what was going on with them anymore. One minute they were together, then they weren’t, who knows what they were now. 

“God, I hate him,” you muttered. Stiles agreed, holding out his arm for you to take. You gladly did so, pushing any thought of anyone else to the back of your mind for potentially the rest of the night. Tonight was yours and Stiles’ time. 

In no time you were finding yourselves grabbing drinks at the refreshments table, Stiles’ hand never leaving your waist as he shot glares at practically every male that walked past you both. “What are you doing?” you giggled, referencing his anger. “They’re looking at you funny. I don’t like it.”

You rolled your eyes, hearing the intro to a familiar slow song beginning to play over the speakers. You linked your fingers with his, abandoning the drinks and dragging him onto the dance floor to dance amongst groups of other students. “Come on, cutie.”

You spent most of the night in your own little bubble with him, dancing away, taking a couple breaks when your shoes started to hurt your feet. But here you were again, dancing to a slow song that’d been on over the speakers. 

You could hear Coach yelling Scott’s name, your eyes being drawn to him as he barged through the crowd to try and find your misfit of a friend who he’d banned from showing up tonight. They were drawing quite a bit of attention to themselves throughout the gymnasium of teens, but it made for an amusing sight you had to admit. “What is that idiot doing?” you laughed. 

You couldn’t deny Scott was smart about it, pulling Danny to dance with him to put Coach under pressure. When he found the two you and Stiles were biting back laughter, watching the older man stutter and blush as he tried to explain as well as he could to all the prying eyes that he had no issue with Danny and Scott dancing, and that wasn’t why he was trying to pull them apart. 

He was just making it worse for himself until he eventually gave up, scowling at the brunette who’d found a loophole to his demand. “God, he’s evil,” Stiles muttered. 

After all that settled down you let yourself be fully emerged in Stiles. The slow songs were back and you wanted nothing more than for this moment to never end. 

His hands were resting firmly on your waist, your around his neck with one occasionally drifting to rub his arm affectionately. His head hung beside yours, his eyes closed as he focused on you. Your scent, your gentle breathing, the feel of your body against his, all of you. Your chin was resting on his shoulder, tipping your head so it could rest against the side of his as the two of you swayed to the slow beat of the music. It was heaven. 

Every now and then you’d place a kiss to his neck or jaw, just to let him know you were still thinking about him, even through your comfortable silence. You were both just as wrapped up in each other as the other was.

You were snapped out of it though when you saw Lydia across the room. She looked rather panicked and like she was looking for someone, and with your newfound friendship it felt like you should go and check on her. You just didn’t know how to tell Stiles.

Thankfully he noticed you were a little off, more fidgety than you’d been since you’d found a comfortable position to dance in earlier on. You felt his head raise, turning your own so you could lock eyes with him, worry clearly present in those hazel eyes. “You okay?”

You tried to calm his worries with a smile, but it probably didn’t turn out as convincing as you’d intended. “Yeah, just- Lydia looks pretty panicked and I-I think I should go check on her. Just to make sure she’s okay.”

The pout he donned was adorable, tempting you to stay here with him, that is if your concern for your new friend wasn’t as large as it was. “I’ll be right back.”

He sighed, accepting that you were doing it whether he was happy about it or not. “At least take my jacket, you’ll freeze out there.” You grinned at the concern, allowing him to slip the material onto your arms. 

She was shockingly difficult to keep up with. Although she’d got a head start, you still didn’t expect her to be so fast. You were basically running down the hallway to get to the exit of the school where you watched her leave a mere minute ago.

You could hear her calling for Jackson before you even stepped outside. Although you didn’t make it in time to catch her before she was running off in some direction to find him. You followed her, calling out her name though it fell on deaf ears.

Stiles had been right, it was freezing even with his blazer covering you, so you couldn’t imagine how she was feeling. You followed her all the way out to the lacrosse field, stumbling over to the bleachers by the time she found herself in the centre of the pitch, still yelling her ex’s name. You were about to call hers again when you were startled from the lights all suddenly turning on, illuminating her figure standing there. You were both equally confused. 

You only managed a few steps forward when you saw a figure approaching her. In one final attempt she muttered Jackson’s name, though you could tell it wasn’t him. 

“Lydia,” you called, making your way over to her in a pathetic hope of protecting her. She didn’t dare look away from the figure, though she felt you place your hand on her arm to let her know you were there. You were right too, she was icy to touch. When you could finally make out the figure clearer you gasped, it was Peter Hale, Derek’s uncle, the fucking Alpha.

“Oh my god,” you muttered, wrapping your hand around Lydia’s wrist just as you heard your boyfriend’s voice. 

“Y/N! Lydia! Run!” You tried to do as he said, seeing him running in the direction of the two of you, but Lydia was frozen with fear, and Peter was faster. “Lydia, we have to move!”

But of course it was too late. You’d glanced away to look at Stiles for one second and Peter was already sinking his teeth into the strawberry blonde, and his claws were slashing at you in the process. 

You cried out, falling with the girl as pain seeped through your body, spawning in the large wound on your stomach that was quick to start seeping with the blood he’d pulled from you. You lay there with the girl you’d made friends with, she was completely motionless as Peter fell to his knees above her. You backed up, pathetically trying to create some distance between the older man and yourself. You knew you shouldn’t have tried to abandon the girl like that, but you were scared too, and you knew somewhere behind you you could seek your boyfriend’s comfort.

Stiles couldn’t do much to protect you from a werewolf, just as you couldn’t do with Lydia, but your brain was convinced that his arms were a safeplace for you. Your body was screaming at you and you finally gave up with the crawling, but two familiar arms were quick to engulf you. You both stared at Peter as a low growl sounded in his throat aimed at the two of you, your heartbeat scarily unsteady for multiple reasons.

You hadn’t thought to do it until another wave of agony was ripping through your body, looking down at your blood soaked dress, the material that hadn’t been torn under the strength of peter’s claws turning a darker shade of red, to find Stiles’ large hands pressing firmly against the wound. “I know baby, I’m sorry.”

The two of you looked back to Lydia, tears springing to your eyes at how he was lurking over her still body like a predator. “Please, don’t kill her,” you begged. 

Peter just watched you, drawing out his answers, teasing you as you both feared for yours and Lydia’s lives. “Of course not.”

You would’ve felt relief had you not also felt like there was some kind of ulterior motive. He wanted something, of course he did. “Just tell me how to find Derek.”

“W-What?” Stiles’ brows furrowed.

Peter repeated himself. “Tell me how to find Derek Hale.” His claw traced down the side of her face, a short cry coming from you as everything started to feel so real. Your boyfriend didn’t know what to do. He was so fucking scared. All three of you could die right now and he didn’t know how to stop it. And at this rate, either Peter would kill you or you’d bleed out from your wound, another thing he was scared off considering the quantity of it that was covering his hands. But one way or another if this wasn’t quick, you were going to die. 

“I-I don’t know. How would I know that?” You could hear the panic in his voice, the way his words shook with pure, unfiltered terror that you’d never seen from him before. You were sure if you opened your mouth you’d be the exact same way though. 

Peter cocked his head like it was obvious. “Because you’re the clever one aren’t you? And because deception has quite the specific scent, Stiles.”

The boy didn’t say anything, just stared at the older man in a little bit of shock. “Tell me the truth. Or I will rip her apart. Both of them.” His eyes flickered up to you, a scared whimper sounding in your throat at the threat. You didn’t want to die, especially not at the hands of Peter Hale. You didn’t want to become just another unsolved animal attack murder on the Sheriff’s desk because your friends couldn’t tell them the truth.

Stiles didn’t want that either. If you died and he knew what happened, but couldn’t tell his dad, he thought he’d go insane. 

“I don’t know, okay? I swear to god, I have no idea.” You were starting to grow light headed. You didn’t know whether Stiles was telling the truth or not, you just knew you needed help, medical help as soon as humanly possible. You barely registered the intense growl Peter let out, scaring Stiles enough for him to spill anything he knew. It felt like you were fading in and out of consciousness through their conversation, hearing bits and pieces about a GPS and Derek. It wasn’t enough for you to piece together to make sense, so instead you just shifted your focus to Lydia, letting your thoughts be consumed by her. 

“Stiles,” you whispered, trying your hardest to look up at him to see his face. He glanced down at you, nodding his head. “I know, I know. But I’m gonna get you help.” 

He turned back to Peter, practically begging at this point. “I told you what I know. Now you said you wouldn’t kill them if I told you, and she needs help. Please, she’s gonna bleed out.���

Peter pushed himself to his feet, standing at his full height as he watched you and Stiles. “You’re coming with me.”

The boy rapidly shook his head. “I’m not just letting you leave them here.”

“You don’t have a choice, Stiles. You’re coming with me.”

He couldn’t honestly think of anything worse right now or ever. 

“J-Just kill me. Look, I don’t care anymore.” Peter approached you both slowly, his fingertips coming to settle under your boyfriend’s chin. The man’s strength and threat of his claws in Stiles' throat forced him to stand, his bloody hands leaving you and leaving your body no choice but to fall back now he was no longer holding you up. 

“Call your friend. Tell Jackson where they are. That’s all you get.”

You could hear him panting as Peter marched away. Through your cloudy eyes you were able to make out the sight of Stiles pulling his phone out of his pocket. While doing so he fell to his knees by your side, his free hand cupping your cheek to make you look at him. He talked to you gently while the phone rang. 

“I need you to stay with me, okay? Jackson’s gonna get you help, you’re gonna be okay.” You were pretty sure even he didn’t believe what he was saying, but you wanted to keep hoping. You weren’t ready to die now. “Try and keep pressure on that,” he instructed, guiding your hands to Peter’s deep claw marks. He could feel your body shivering from both the cold and the fear, pulling his jacket tighter around your body. 

You were blinking back tears as you listened to his voice speak to Jackson in a panic. You heard him say something about bringing someone with him to get both of you, but it was all very muffled. All you properly registered was that he was talking again. “Hey, I’ve gotta go, but I’ll be back for you,” he promised. “I love you, Y/N.”

He placed a teary kiss to your lips and was then taking off to follow Peter in a haste. The next thing you remembered was being in someone’s arms, specifically Danny’s if you’d worked it out correctly. He was following quickly behind Jackson who was carrying Lydia, screaming at the people outside of the school for help. They begged for someone to call an ambulance, Danny setting your body down as gently as possible to make sure he was able to keep pressure on your wound. “Danny..?” you whimpered.

“You’re gonna be okay.”

»»——⍟——««

You didn’t remember anything else until you woke up in the hospital. You knew nothing about anything at that point. What time it was, how long you’d been there, where your clothes from the night had gone, how you even got there; you knew nothing and you hated it. But what you did know was there was still pain shooting through your body every now and then, although you assumed you were probably on some kind of painkiller. Clearly they didn’t help soothe werewolf related injuries.

Sheriff was the first one you saw when you opened your eyes, his soft smile similar to your boyfriend’s bringing you a warm comfort. The more you surveyed the room the more you realised more people were in there. Your parents were sitting on two chairs beside your hospital bed, your brother curled up against your legs asleep. You smiled weakly, slowly shifting your hand to run your fingers through his messy hair. 

“Oh thank god,” you heard your mother cry, her lips being pressed to your forehead. The movement had alerted her you were awake, finally letting her breathe now that she knew you were really okay. She could’ve just believed the doctors, but until she saw her baby looking right back at her, telling her she was okay for herself, she just couldn’t listen to them.

“Had us all worried there, kiddo.” Your dad ruffled your hair affectionately, just as your brother began to rouse from his sleep. It was the noise other than the constant beeping off your heart monitor that let him know something in the atmosphere of the room had changed.

He nearly leaped at you, until he remembered you were injured and probably shouldn’t. Then he settled for a gentle hug, telling you he was so glad you were okay, and that your scar would look so badass (but you couldn’t tell mom he’d said that).

A commotion of yelling out in the hallway was what alerted Sheriff that Jackson was here and looking for Lydia, exactly the person he wanted to talk to. He looked back at you in the bed surrounded by your family for a second, he knew Stiles should’ve been there, unfortunately he didn’t know where his son was though. Your attention was drawn to your boyfriend’s dad as you watched him glance at Jackson through the window of your room. 

“I’m glad you’re okay, kid.” He gently squeezed your hand, telling you he’d be back before he hurried off to talk with Jackson. The gesture was sweet and reminded you of one of many reasons you loved Stiles’ dad so much.

Your eyes were glued to him as he stalked his way over to the teen, hoping to listen in on their conversation. That plan didn’t go very well though. You could see their lips moving and you could make out what he said when he yelled, but not when he spoke only to Jackson in a soft tone. You were sure it was just routine questions considering he’d been the one that had first rushed into the crowd with an unconscious body in his arms. Even though you couldn’t hear, you continued to watch, so you were shocked when you watched the older man grip the richkid’s shirt, pushing him against the wall of another room. 

You could faintly make out something about him saying it wasn’t his fault, that Stiles had been the one to call and tell him where the two of you were, and he’d simply acted on that. You watched Noah back off, your heart aching for him that you couldn’t explain what had happened. But it all suddenly made you realise that Stiles wasn’t back yet from wherever he went off to with Peter, and that terrified you. Your mother was the one to notice your heartbeat was climbing, setting her hand on your shoulder. 

“Honey, what’s wrong?” Your chest was rising and falling more rapidly as she reached out for you, seeing the tears lining your eyes in your sudden state of panic. “Stiles. Where’s Stiles?”

Your parents didn’t know what to do, your mom grabbing your hand and your dad preparing to call in a nurse if he needed to. Your heart rate was getting dangerously high and they could all see that on the monitor, but they didn’t know why thinking about Stiles had you so panicked. They obviously didn’t know he’d gone off with the psycho killer that’d put you in the hospital in the first place, so they didn’t understand the sudden freakout. 

“He’ll be here, sweetheart. We just need you to calm down.” It took a little longer to get you to copy her breathing enough to lower your heart rate, and you had to be honest it did help you feel better. Though you wouldn’t be completely relaxed until you received some confirmation he was at the minimum alive.

True to your mother’s word he did show up eventually, finally letting your body relax as you knew Peter hadn’t killed him. You didn’t see him when he first got there, not until you saw Noah pushing him back from making his way to you. It made you slightly angry that his interrogation couldn’t wait, especially when Stiles didn’t know if you were okay. But you understood he was confused about what the hell had happened tonight. 

“Dad- I- Is Y/N okay? Is Lydia gonna be okay?” He couldn’t see you from where he stood, but he could see clearly into the other girl’s room where she was clearly asleep. You didn’t hear what he told his son, but you hoped it was enough to calm his anxiety, you didn’t know if you could emotionally handle seeing one of Stiles’ panic attacks right now.

Before you knew it the door to your hospital room was opening, Stiles rushing in with relief written all over his face. “Hey,” you quietly greeted. Your dad was the one to usher your family out of the room, wanting to give you a few minutes alone together. He had a feeling after seeing younger Stilinski’s reaction upon entering the hospital that this would be emotional. He wasted no time, pressing his lips to yours intensely.

It stole your breath away for a few seconds, the amount of pure, raw emotion from him making your head spin, but in a good way this time. He barely pulled away, his nose still brushing yours and his hands still cupping your face as he spoke. “God, I’m so glad that you’re okay.”

You wanted to skip the reunion for the moment, concerned about where he went and what happened after he left you on the lacrosse field. “What happened with Peter?”

He shook his head. “That’s not important right now. ‘M just glad you’re okay.”

You didn’t want to argue with him, you didn’t have the strength, so you moved on like he wanted, hoping he’d tell you the Peter story when you were feeling better. “And Lydia?”

He frowned, not quite the answer you were wanting. All you knew was that she was alive, but you didn’t know anything else about her current state. “M-My dad said they don’t know.”

There was a beat of silence before he was speaking up again, but not with words you wanted to hear. “I have to go talk to him again, jus’ wanted to come see you first.” You frowned, gripping his wrist as tightly as you could. He’d only just got here, you weren’t quite ready to see him go yet. You’d hoped upon his arrival he’d stay and hold you for a while, maybe stroke your hair while you tried to get some sleep; Not that your current memories of the night would let you. “D’you have to go?”

“I’ll come back. I promise.” You smiled softly, accepting his sweet kiss. “You better.”

»»——⍟——««

True to his word he did come back later that night. Your family headed home for the night with the knowledge that Stiles was going to stay with you so you wouldn’t be alone. He’d changed clothes since he’d been gone, probably taken a quick shower too, and ever the angel had even brought you your favourite stuffed bear from your room at home. 

You thanked him with a grateful smile, scooting over in the hospital bed as gently as you could to not hurt yourself in order to make room for him.

Once he got the okay from you, he climbed in, wrapped one of his arms around your shoulders, letting you nuzzle into his chest. It wasn’t the most comfortable of positions or places to sleep. But it was what you had to work with, and you supposed sharing it with Stiles was better than sleeping in it alone. 

“How do you feel?” he asked, lips grazing over your hairline. You hummed quietly. “Hurts, but I’ll live I guess.” 

The two of you delved into a comfortable silence. His hand was stroking over your hair, an occasional subconscious kiss being placed on your head every few minutes. Your eyes drifted a little, catching sight of the girl laying in the hospital bed in the room opposite yours, a frown curling on your lips.

“Any updates on Lydia?” you asked quietly. You were honestly scared to know the answer. He smiled softly, telling you what his dad had told him. “She’s gonna be okay.” 

A weight felt like it was lifted off of your shoulders. You’d been waiting to hear that news all night and you underestimated the amount of relief you’d feel knowing she was alive and well.

“I should also probably tell you, Peter’s dead, and Allison’s aunt.” Your eyes widened, head whipping around to look at him. Why wasn’t that the first thing he told you? Not only was the man who’d put you here dead, but one of your friends was also grieving right now. Was that why she hadn’t come to see you yet? He was just sitting here making innocent conversation with you this whole time when something big had clearly happened while he’d been gone. 

“And you’re only just telling me?”

He tried to defend himself but not much of an answer really came out, ending up with him just shrugging shyly as he sank further into the bed beside you. “Wanted to know you were okay first. That’s more important to me.”

His answer made you pout. He was so cute and you hated the hold he had on you because of it. You couldn’t be mad at him when he was that adorable. “What happened?” 

He explained the story of the arson, the Hale house fire unravelling and all about Kate, then the necklace she’d given Allison as a birthday present and Jackson going with him to the Hale house. He didn’t miss out the chance to tell you he’d manage to convince Jackson to let him drive the Porsche, adding in that it was so awesome. 

It was kind of all over the place, with the makeshift fire bombs, the Peter killing Kate, the Derek killing Peter. All of it was really confusing, but all you knew was that the nightmare you’d been living was over; at least for the most part. Scott was still very much a werewolf, you couldn’t change that and Stiles said something about Scott and Allison not being together again, but who knows.

“‘M glad it’s all over,” you whispered, nuzzling your face closer to your boyfriend. He hummed quietly, agreeing with you. He just felt more calmed knowing Peter couldn’t hurt you again, he never wanted to have to experience that level of fear he felt seeing you bleeding out in his arms.

“It’s over,” he muttered, more like he needed to convince himself more than confirm for you. “And everyone’s okay.”

━━━━━━━━━♡♥♡━━━━━━━━━

[starlitangels]

Some James + His Spouse Headcanons

I sometimes feel like I’m the only married member of this fandom for now so I’m obviously the authority on this particular pairing lol /j /s

They’re in their thirties and have been married for at least 10 years

Got married young (like 23/24 range)

Short dating time (like two years max)

Short engagement (not even a year)

They knew each other since they were children and had always been best friends, so they didn’t feel the need to date and betroth for longer periods of time. They already knew what they wanted and they knew they wanted to spend their lives together

For the first few days after James leaves for a job, his spouse is frustrated and angry at him for leaving. This repeats a few days before he comes home. The rest of the time in between they just really miss him

Their wedding rings are complementary (same color pattern on both—platinum)

Assuming his spouse is the same “character” as they were in Imperium, they’ve known each other since they were children and his spouse is unempowered

But they’ve known each other so well, so long, and so intimately that his spouse can practically read his mind

He has so many little tells based on facial expressions and body language when he’s at home that he doesn’t have while at work. It’s not hard for his spouse to know what he’s thinking

Trust me. I’ve only been married for a couple years and it can be very easy to read my husband’s mind

The two have a long-standing agreement that James can just be in his spouse’s mind whenever he wants unless asked not to be until they invite him back in

He still asks for permission every time

James really wants to spoil his spouse with nice date nights whenever he’s home and his spouse literally cannot be bothered with the idea

James will be like “let’s go to [insert fancy-dancy restaurant that’s like $100+ a plate here]”

And his spouse immediately replies “or we could make dinner here and walk to the snow cone shack in the grocery store parking lot two blocks away for dessert instead”

It’s not that they don’t want to spend the money though that’s definitely part of it

They just wanna spend time with him while he’s there because he’s gone so much

His spouse is definitely a Quality Time kind of person and James is too but he’s also a gift-giver

James is left-handed and prefers the right side of the bed so he can hold his partner’s hand with his dominant one while he sleeps

When James is away, his spouse wears their wedding ring to bed. When he’s home neither of them do trust me wedding rings can get in the way and get uncomfortable during cuddling it just be like that sometime

When James isn’t out on a job he’s the one that makes dinner. Cooking is therapeutic for him

One time when he was out on a job and was gonna be gone over his birthday, his spouse surprised him when he came home by making and setting up a display case for his favorite baseball cards

James is a fast runner. His spouse is faster

[courtingchaos]

There’s Levels To This

Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

A/N: oh my god It’s the beach episode! Dip your toes in kids, the water is fine. This is for my dearest @chestylarouxx who has me yearning on the daily for beach shenanigans with one Edward Munson.

Warnings: Just sex and drinking in the sun.

18+ NSFW No Minors

To say Eddie wasn’t your friend would be wrong. At every level he was dear to you, from a simple ride to work in the mornings all the way to your petty crimes partner now that the two of you were old enough to know better.

“A fall guy.” He’d said.

“Or at least someone with better eyesight.” He’d said, this time pushing your glasses back up your nose.

“Someone that has a getaway car.” He’d said while spinning his key ring around his finger. That callused digit bounces in the corner of your vision, thick and longer than yours. Nails bitten short with grime from the shop still under them.

You’re trying to hand the store over to the night manager and Eddie’s come in early. Beelined directly for you standing behind the elevated register and leaned all cool and carefree on your counter.

“I don’t want to get involved tonight Ed. Trying to leave town tomorrow if you remember.” You mutter at him while you try to finish counting the till.

“Well duh, I’m not gonna get us caught. We need to leave at what, 9?”

“We?” You lift your head and he reaches over and pushes your glasses up again.

“Yeah, you didn’t know?” He gives you mischievous smile. “Your mom invited me. Sorry you had to find out like this.”

“What’d you do to butter her up this time?” You drop the pencil on the till log and shove your hands onto your hips.

“Nothing! I simply told her how Wayne was going on his fishing trip this week too and I was gonna be rotting around the trailer all…by…my lonesome…” He leans in, props his chin on his elbow and gives you big puppy eyes.

You haven’t fallen for those in about four years.

(This is a lie. One of many but this one is a repeat offender in your repertoire of excuses for Eddie Munson.)

“Rotting?” You jerk your hand in front of your hips. “Is that what they’re calling it now?” You grab the till and hand it over to your replacement and she gives you a nod and directs a long suffering sigh at your shadow.

“You think I wait for Wayne to leave town? Barely can wait to get home sometimes.” He grins. “Your bathroom is remarkably soundproof, did you know.”

You smack him in the chest with an old stack of magazines. “You’re a pig.”

“Yeah well what’s that make you?” He follows you to the back, management having long gotten over trying to tell him anything.

“The prize pony whose stall you keep breaking into.” You seethe at him. It’s all in good fun but he still pauses in the doorway and squints at you. He opens his mouth, plush lips forming around a word before he seems to think better of it. Runs his tongue along along his top teeth and leans again while you get your stuff together.

“Do you even have swim trunks?”

“No, that’s why we’re going to goodwill.”

“Please tell me we’re not stealing from goodwill today.” You ask when you walk past him again.

(You do this thing where you never ask him to move. He wouldn’t anyways but you always use this excuse to brush against him. You think he’s gonna complain about tits pushed into his chest? Ha.)

“God no. I wanted to break into Harrington’s pool.”

“Oh, a little B and E before we skip town?” You do a little shimmy and Eddie laughs.

“Yeah. Running away to Florida with your mom and her boyfriend. So inconspicuous.”

Eddie finds the most obnoxious pair of neon pink trunks and you run him into the ground with your teasing.

“Between your pasty ass and these, you’re gonna blind those poor panhandle girls.”

“Listen pet, they’ve never seen something like me before. I’m gonna have jaws in the fuckin’ sand.” He keeps flicking through hangers of swimsuits and misses your face exploding through 10 expressions before you hack out a sound that makes his head whip up.

“Pet?!” The disgust is thick in your tone and on your face.

(Another fake out. The day Eddie stops giving you nicknames is the day you cease finding happiness.)

“Yeah you know what, I don’t like it either. I heard it somewhere and wanted to give it a shot.” He shakes his head and grimaces and quickly yanks a hanger to hold up the worlds tiniest bikini.

“Found your suit.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

“You’re slime.”

“Oh come on, you need something to wear to the beach. Unless you’re going stark because then I need to rethink my whole outfit.” He snorts and playfully tosses his suit over his shoulder onto the ground.

“I’ve already got one.”

“Aw, we didn’t even get to go shopping together!”

“Eddie?” You sigh and his head pops back up over the rack after picking up his dropped clothes. “Shut the fuck up.”

He drops you off at your house so you can finish packing and he goes to his trailer to start. You agree to be ready by 10 so it’s dark enough that Steve’s neighbors won’t call the cops.

(You spend the two hours mindlessly folding laundry and imaging all the tanned southern belles chasing after Eddie and his tattoos on white sand. When you try to pack your socks they’re shoved into tight balls and none of them match.)

“Is this even crime if Steve knows about it?”

“Steve doesn’t know when we’re going so yeah, still crime.”

The drive into Loch Nora is full of Eddie’s ‘songs about weed’ mix until you hit the neighborhood entrance and then Eddie kills the radio. He drives the speed limit and keeps the windows rolled up and slides seamlessly into the Harrington driveway like he belonged there. It isn’t long before you’re both shimmying over the fence and stripping clothes, leaving them like a trail to your crime scene. Eddie cannon balls into the deep end and you wade down the stairs slowly.

The water is hot like the air is hot, barely a difference between the wet and dry parts of you.

(The wet parts of you are definitely wetter when Eddie breaches the water. He’s got chlorine in his eyes so you get to stare longer at his curls flattening to his head. The blue light of the pool reflects off his pale skin and his tattoos come alive under moving water.)

“Oh okay good, I can still swim.” He sputters and runs his hands through his hair while he treads water. “Can’t be playing possum in front of the babes now can I?” He starts his slow paddle over to you until his feet touch the bottom and he can walk. The wet glistening on him has you clenching your hands under the water and hoping that he doesn’t see it.

(You’re good at this, the lying. To yourself and everyone else and especially to Eddie.)

“Is this the infamous bathing suit?” He flicks the zipper on your chest before miming an explosion around his head.

It’s a high necked, high cut one piece split down the front with a long black zipper. When you’d bought it you’d felt like the Babest Babe to ever Babe. Now though, with Eddie giving you an up and down glance you have some second thoughts.

Too much skin? Thigh? Ass? It’s no string bikini but it is tight and that zipper was hanging lower with every shift of your chest under the stretchy nylon.

“Gonna have to keep you in the cooler, baby.” He presses his finger into your bare shoulder and hisses. “Too hot.” He slinks backwards and falls in slow motion, arms spread outward to float.

(You notice it then and you think about it later, how he keeps his hips dipped below the water line. You won’t lie to yourself about keeping your eyes on him in the hopes you’d catch a glimpse of too tight trunks.)

“Shut up.”

“Make me.” He says to the night sky while he floats away from you.

You would if you could, but this isn’t that kind of relationship is it? Eddie is your friend, on every level imaginable.

Except that level that you don’t think about and keep locked in the basement of your imagination.

So you swim in Steve’s pool and Eddie pretends to be an alligator to try and pull you under.

He dives off the board and sits on the bottom of the pool to see how long he can hold his breath.

You sit on the edge and watch him wear himself out with laps and handstands and somersaults.

You sit and watch him glide through the pool like he was made from it.

You two get out of there without anyone noticing and he asks about the trip on the way back to your house. He asks about the drive and if your mom’s boyfriend will let him drive and what the hotel situation is like.

“Am I gonna have to share a bed with you?” He leans away from you, an overtly grossed out look shot at you. “You have those glacier feet and I’m not going to be held liable for any elbows in stomachs if they touch me.”

“You snore like a tractor.”

“But at least my feet don’t kill with their icy touch.”

Wayne drops Eddie off in the very early hours of 8 am. You can hear voices talking downstairs but then there’s heavy footsteps and then a huff and a shove of your shoulder and clammy skin pushing into your own sleep warm skin. Eddie smells like his morning cigarette and his peppermint toothpaste and for a fleeting moment you forget exactly what this is. That level you daren’t imagine is abruptly surface level and you roll back into him. Your nose smushes into his shoulder, your leg winds over his and you settle back into the pillow.

A solid few minutes of waking up and with every braincell that fires, your heart beats faster. He’s motionless like a corpse. Barely breathing judging by the little huffs against your pillow case.

“I am…so sorry.” The regret rolls off you and you shove off him to the other side of your bed, back pressed up against the wall.

“It’s okay I-“

“I was still asleep, I didn’t-“

“I shouldn’t have climbed in your bed unannounced.” He stares. You stare. The sheets between you two shift when you sit up and slide off the end of your bed to get up.

“I’m gonna uh…bathroom.” Stuttering and rubbing sleep out of your eyes you grab your pile of clothes and then sit in the bathroom for ten minutes.

(You lie the whole drive to Florida. 11 solid hours of kidding yourself, keeping a pillow shoved between yours and Eddie’s knees so your thighs won’t touch. Every pit stop you stare at him while he folds out from the back seat and think about wrapping your leg around him again.)

The motel is pink and blue and right on the water. The big arch that indicates the entrance to the beach welcomes you to Emerald Shores and while you don’t consider yourself a beach girl, it’s actually quite beautiful.

Your mom and her boyfriend have a room on the second floor and you and Eddie have been relegated to the bottom floor.

“Just call us peons and get it over with.” Eddie whispers at you from the corner of his mouth and you laugh before The Boyfriend can turn back around with your room keys.

Eddie spends all of ten minutes in the room before he just disappears while you’re in the shower. He comes back an hour later with a handful of shells and a pizza.

“What a resourceful Indiana raccoon you are.”

“Yes, and if I didn’t forage for us, who would?” He tosses the box on the bed next to your legs and you don’t miss his lingering stare on your calves. He covers it with a nod and a joke.

“You better wear socks tonight. I’ve already got the A/C set to 65, I don’t need you putting me on ice too.”

(You withhold the truth from Eddie the next morning by not waking him when you wake at 6 AM and find him latched around your middle.)

Eddie rents a spot with two chairs and an umbrella and he gets to talk to every girl walking the shore that afternoon. You’ve been alternating between PBR’s and waters and now to avoid the dark cloud trying to damped your mood you ratchet the chair back and scoot out from under the umbrella to take a nap. Eddie asks about 100 times if you remembered sunscreen and you tell him 101 times that yes you did and no you don’t need him to reapply it for you.

(Yes you do! If you’d stop being insane for two seconds you could have his hands on your back and over your shoulders and up along the high cut of your hip and maybe he’d dip those musicians fingers behind your convenient zipper and-)

“You might want to pull your zipper up then.”

You peak one eye open to stare down at your chest. From this angle your don’t have cleavage so much as a valley but the zipper on your suit has popped down a few more teeth and Eddie seems to have noticed.

“I just don’t want you burning is all.” He sniffs. You roll your head to look at him and catch his quick shift of attention away from you.

In your light napping you hear a few voices asking Eddie where he’s from and if his tattoos hurt. One girl says she loves his hair, “especially tied back like that, so cute.”

Another girl asks about his girlfriend.

“Oh her?”

You imagine he points over his shoulder at you with a big thumb.

“Yeah. You sure she doesn’t mind you talking to me?”

You’d love to sit up and point out that you’re awake and also that she walked up to him but Eddie beats you to it.

“Oh this is all a cover. She’s actually scoping out this beach.” He gets a conspiratorial lilt to his voice and you imagine he’s leaning forward and turning on his Munson Charm.

“For what?” Mystery girl number 10 asks.

“She’s an international jewel thief and she’s heard there’s some real old money around here.”

You snort and alert them that you are, in fact, listening.

“Wait, seriously?” Suddenly this girl sounds wary. She makes up an excuse and scampers off down the beach back to her tan friends.

“Swing and a miss, Munster.”

“No. I made you laugh didn’t I?”

If Eddie has to watch that zipper unzip another zip he’s also going to unzip all of his zips.

It’s hot, and he and his brain have been baking under the sun but he refuses to leave. With you laid out in that fucking bathing suit he can’t miss a single moment of you in it. He’s on his…sixth, maybe eighth beer and his looks get longer with every empty in the cooler. He can make out the tan line on your hip when you roll over and he almost inhales the last of his drink because you’re all legs and ass. He can’t wait for later when you’ll be laid out after your shower, shorts hitched up from you sliding down the comforter and he’ll be able to catch a glimpse of that darkening line along your butt.

“Fucking hell…”

“You wanna head back in?”

(He does. He really does. He’ll carry the cooler and his towel in front of himself to hide his eagerness. He’ll carry your shit too just to watch you walk unencumbered in front of him, leading the way back to the air conditioned heaven and your thin pajamas.)

Three days in, two left to go and Eddie has decided he’s done lying to himself. He watches you every afternoon out in the sun in your bathing suit or the worlds shortest shorts and the most cropped band tees that he thinks might have been his at some point. He watches you run and roll over sand and wade cautiously into the ocean. There’s this part of your stomach he’s positive he’s never seen before and he watches very closely for the soft roll of it to peak out from under your shirts.

(He’s wanted to sink his teeth into you for a while but this new body part makes his teeth hurt. He drools after your thighs and dreams of digging his fingers into the soft dough of your ass. He imagines while he watches you stretched out on your towel that you’d be so soft in all those hidden places and he imagines so long he lets his beer go hot in the sand.)

He walks to cheap little gas stations over hot asphalt and hotter sand to get beer with you. He’d worry you two were going a little hard in the paint but it’s Florida where it’s practically state law that you drink shitty beer by the 12 pack, daily, if your staying on the beach front.

He follows you around like a loyal hound and acts like a guard dog when these fucking dudes start sniffing around you. Tall and tan and smelling like sunscreen and ocean. Eddie walks close behind, your constant second shadow and these fucking dudes get the hint when he glowers at them.

“I don’t think Floridians take too kindly to us midlanders.” You chew on a fry thoughtfully, knee hugged to your chest.

“What do you mean?” Eddie is finally drinking water after two days and a midnight migraine reminded him why you can’t just exist off of piss water beer.

“That girl the other day didn’t think you were funny which, come on.” You roll your eyes and say it like it’s so obvious how funny he his and he’s instantly convinced he could chuckle his way into your cutoffs. “And these dudes, they practically cross the street when we walk down the same sidewalk.”

Eddie just hums at you and finishes his water. He watches you wipe your fingers on your rapidly darkening thigh and he wants to lick the salt and sunscreen off your skin.

You find this little seafood place for dinner and Eddie is surprised he even sees your mom and her boyfriend show up. They’re not unwelcome but he’s sure they haven’t left their room since they arrived.

He has to put real shoes on which throws him for a loop but it’s not fancy. Neither of you are that, especially after almost four days of bumming it at the beach and being mildly drunk for most of it. He’s still watching everything you do, convinced and baptized in the Florida sun and sand that he can tell you his truth finally.

He waits for a break in your conversation with your mom to tap his index finger on your knee. “Can we go to the gas station before we head back?”

“Of course. Need more beer?” You nod as you ask. “I don’t know if we’ve had our daily allotment.”

He laughs through his nose and when you turn back to answer your moms question his stomach does a nervous flip and he doesn’t trust the shrimp on his plate anymore.

“You didn’t finish your dinner.”

“Okay mom.”

“I just wanted to know if everything was okay. You’ve been quiet today.” You stroll beside him, sandals in hand while he carries a fifth of southern comfort that he nervously bounces against his thigh.

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, “just taking it all in a guess?” The sunset paints the horizon in a way that is alien to the sunsets in Hawkins. “It’s pretty.” He says that to the side of your head while you look at the sky over the ocean. Even in his shorts and his chopped up tee he’s sweating but the breeze coming off the beach tells him this is all nerves and maybe he wasn’t ready to say it.

“Wanna take a walk on the beach?” You stop at one of the entrances and nod your head over, soft smile laid out on your face.

“Sure.”

The light paints both of you in a soft pink light and Eddie really needs to buy your mom something, anything to show his appreciation for the invitation. He could have missed out on this, instead probably working overtime at the auto shop and drinking sadly by himself, counting down time till you or Wayne got home.

Instead he gets to watch you walk ahead of him and lead the way to a tall fishing pier. He watches you kick the sand around and look for shells to add to your new collection.

“Can I ask you something?” You don’t turn around, just trust that the wind will blow your question to him.

“Anything.”

You only stop when you get to one of the massive pilings, turning to lean your shoulder into it above the mess of barnacles. You stare at him, raking your eyes over his body and when he’s about to open his mouth you ask him.

“Can I kiss you?”

He’s 23 and not never kissed, just never been asked. Your open look shows your sincerity, eyes shining in the waning light, lip worried at by your teeth. He wants to sooth those nerves and kiss the salt air off of you. He chuckles, a light huff through his nose.

“Yeah.”

Your eyes light up as you get closer, dropping your handful of things into the sand.

“I’ve wanted to…for a while.”

“It’s not just my laissez-faire beach attitude drawing you in?” He drops the bottle behind him.

“No.” You smile before you kiss him. Soft hands on the side of his face bring him down and in, his curtain of hair blocking out the rest of the world. His lips are plush and a little chapped when they touch yours, damp from him nervously licking them before you’d bridged the gap. His hands find homes on your waist and he doesn’t miss the small sound you make when his fingers creep up under your shirt. You hold on to his face and push up into him and for a moment, he forgets you’re both on a public beach. He lets his hands wander to those hidden places and eats up your groans that you place directly in his mouth. It’s only when he hears the distant roar of an approaching atv that he comes to. Reluctantly breaks the kiss but keeps his forehead pressed to yours.

“Can we go-“

“Yes, please.” You snatch your things off the sand and start walking back towards the motel, his hand clutched tightly in yours.

Later he’ll come out of the bathroom still shaking sand out of his hair even after his shower, to find you watching tv. Still naked but wound up in the starchy sheets, one long leg left out so he can stare.

(That’s where he’d started as soon as the door closed. Backed you right up against the bed till you fell and he followed your leg up to your knee up to your hip, kissing off the sand and the salt and your sunscreen like he promised. He calls you sweetheart and beautiful and sweet like honey and he gets to watch you preen under his words.)

“Have a good shower?” You’re soft and relaxed into the bed, biting on a nail and watching him.

“Eh, so-so.” He didn’t bother with a towel, you’ve just seen him and he intends on you seeing him more.

(He was right. He was able to laugh you right out of your shorts. Nervous giggles while he inched up your stomach, tongue tasting soft skin and dipping in along your bellybutton. Like magic you were out of your shorts and out of your top and he’d had an idea that you weren’t wearing a bra but the light v of tanned skin between your breast makes him pause all the same.)

“Water pressure no good?”

“No, I still have fucking sand everywhere.” He kneels on the bed to slowly crawl over to you.

(He likes how you watch him. He realizes when he has one pebbled nipple in his mouth that you’ve been watching him for longer than today. Your heavy gaze directed down at him while he licks and nips at thin skin. He grabs and gropes your breast and you sigh and he thinks about buying this motel and never leaving.)

“Oh I’m sorry baby.” You coo at him. He hovers over you and shakes his hair above you.

“See?” And you squeal as sand litters the pillow.

(Your noises kill him softly. He’s heard you laugh and groan and yell before but not like this. Your laugh when he kisses up your neck sounds different that before. When he slides your underwear off and wastes no time pushing his fingers into your wet heat, that groan is deep in your throat. He’s not even fully undressed before he has you undone, loudly yelling his name and clutching his arm while he abuses that spot deep inside that makes you gush over his palm.)

“What the fuck Eddie!” You slap at him to get him off but he drops his weight and pins you in place. You still smell like sunscreen and ocean and cheap beer and he swears he’ll find a way to bottle it.

“I don’t want to leave.” He says sincerely.

(He can’t leave actually because this is the room where he got to touch you. A hundred kisses before he even gets his pants off, 50 more before your hands pull him from his boxers, another dozen or so while you lazily run your hand up and down his length and one final one before he pushes into you slow. He forces himself to keep his eyes open so he can watch. Your gasping and your reaching. The way you bounce under him when grabs the headboard for leverage and soundproofing.)

“This is nice, isn’t it?” You sound sad as you card your fingers through his drying curls.

“I mean…Hawkins can be kind of nice too. If you want.” His chest is tight when he asks his non question. Drops his truth out into the open like that.

(That tight feeling isn’t new, he’s always gotten that with you. Now though the levels are all different. You’ve kissed him and made him cum hot across your belly and you keep holding on to his head like he’s something precious to be kept safe and and and-)

“Hawkins can be nice.” Simple agreement makes his heart swell. He takes a deep breath and finally relaxes into you. You shimmy around to get the blankets over both you and Eddie’s dead weight. He plays with the ends of your hair laying against the pillow, white sand flecks sparkling in the dim motel lighting and decides he’s seen enough of the beach this week.

(You don’t lie to him much anymore, just enough to keep his ego in check. If he had any idea just how deep it all went, you’d never be able to pull him off the ceiling. He’s still a pig and he’s still slime but he’s your pig and your little plastic trash can container of slime. You’d be lying if you said Eddie wasn’t your friend, but the levels got all gummed up with sand and shells and now you don’t have to lie to yourself anymore.)

((Sacrifice for the read more))

[ceilingfan5]

ooh. how 'bout circus criminals AU

“Step right up! Step right up- you’ve seen the action, and now it’s time to get your share!” Kravitz makes sweeping gestures with his top hat that are so dramatic that glitter keeps falling off of it. Taako bites his lip, trying not to laugh. Truly how he has the energy after a whole day of shows is beyond him, but Taako’s gonna match him pitter for patter until the crowds are gone. “Not a fan of carnival games? Why not test another skill?” 

Taako, still on his bigass stilts (okay, mediumass stilts, Lup stole the ladder-tall ones tonight) directs seedier traffic Kravitz-ward and seedless traffic towards the carnival games. The tweens and lovers and grubby child-babies can go throw balls at shit for stuffed unicorns. Double Secret Circus Blackjack is only for assholes. But like, a certain kind of asshole. They don’t need any law enforcement officers to step into the ring. Kravitz is duping ex-step-dads and greasy stockbrokers and self-entitled Um Actuallys into feeding the machine with their yum yummy dollar bills. 

You know, people that don’t return their carts at the grocery store. 

“Right this way!” Taako calls, slipping a number of shiny objects from his pockets and juggling like a dream. (Sometimes he does juggle in his dreams. Three previous roommates have complained about it.) He waits for a gap in the crowd and kicks with one long, long leg right towards the Hit The Thing With The Hammer Real Good stall– “Play sweet games, win sweet prizes!” and rolls his whole body toward The Subtle Tent– “Or try your luck, if you dare!” 

And so on. It all sort of runs together. Taako and Kravitz keep making eye contact that makes the air in Taako’s lungs glitter, and finally, when he’s got enough little fishies, Kravitz winks and ducks in. Taako drops his jugglin’ bits. For effect. He’s not stupid. He does make a show of struggling to bend down to pick them up, which gets a load of lil’guys gigglin and tossing him the things. Taako pretends to miss, and pretends to miss, and at the unlikeliest moment–oh my god mommy did you see that, he caught it!! 

Golly. What a miracle, at this, the Regularest Circus. 

He waits for a lull, rabbiting and yakking with the customers, playing it up, making a scene. And when he finally has a moment, he slips away and drops the stilts–easy as pie to make a quick change, if you’d like a slice. No time to redo his makeup, but it’s all whatever. The nights blend like impressionist paintings in a storm drain, and none of that oil paint should enter the water table. 

Heavy metals, you know. 

He ducks into the tent, like literally does a tuck and roll and POP, gasp hello it’s Taako here, can you believe you didn’t have him before now? You’re SAVED. And he walks around, checking on the heavy round felted tables that are such a bitch to roll into the semi when they leave town. Whatever the fuck was wrong with the Costco tables that fold in the middle?

He sneaks up to Kravitz, who is running the highest stakes in the tent, of course, and loving every minute of it. Taako pops up behind him– even sitting, that stupid top hat obscures most of Taako, you know, stilts-less– and pulls a few funny faces to amuse and distract the patrons. Haha, a fucking clown. Doesn’t he know his whole existence is stupid? Kravitz makes a big show of turning and Just Missing Taako, and the big fishies are in stitches by the time the clown is caught. 

“You’re distracting me,” Kravitz teases, shuffling cards like a real obnoxious bitch. Shame he’s so great. “Can’t you clown around another big top?” 

“Who, me?” Taako makes a big show of innocence. It’s so funny how much they’re taken in by him, with some makeup and sweeping gestures and nonsense. These are probably the kind of guys who’d run screaming from a clown in a haunted corn maze or whatever, but Taako’s got these dung beetles eating bullshit right out of his hands. 

“Yeah, you! Can’t you see I’ve got serious business to attend to?” 

“Sure, sure, sure,” Taako soothes, clocking Kravitz slipping an ace or seven up his sleeve. Taako’s whole chest bursts with affection. “I’ll secure the perimeter, sir!” And Taako clicks his heels together as loudly as possible. 

His shoes squeak. It’s great. 

Kravitz barely keeps a straight face. 

“As you were, Captain Bananapants.” 

Taako’s gonna show him. Taako’s going to show him but good. 

He honks his nose and evaporates, pacing round the outside instead. And Ring A Ding Ding, Chicken Wing, who the Fuck must be approaching but the goddamn fuzz. 

He presses a button in the lining of his pocket to Shut That Shit down, and Kravitz will certainly feel his pager go off. Taako’s time to shine, full distract mode. 

“Fuzzy wuzzy had no hair,” he starts off, pulling a full handstand and wiggling his ass. Here’s the thing about being a clown. You can get away with so much. 

“Can it, jackass,” the head guy in charge growls. 

“Oh, extremely loud buzzer noise!” Taako rolls back to a back bend. “Clown, actually. Fool, even. Jester, on the weekends. Harlequin if you ask sweetly. But not a jackass.” 

“You work here, right?” Buzzcut demands. 

“No,” Taako says politely. “This is a hobby.” He makes a show of stage whispering behind his hand. “The wife calls it a fetish, but what does she know!” He laughs so hard he makes himself fall over, and, when the cop steps over him, sits up as fast as possible. Both of them end up on the ground. 

“So sorry!” Taako pops up and reaches out to help him up, which obviously activates the buzzer on his hand, because he’s old school. It’s hilarious. It’s also not full grounds for arrest. Ha ha. “Are you alright? I guess I have a habit of tripping over my feet!” 

This doesn’t end, you know, well, but by the time Taako is done getting grilled like chicken on a milf’s salad, there’s no evidence or remnant of their super legal gambling ring. 

“That’s how you do it, baby,” Taako mumbles later, taking off his makeup. Sometimes he wishes he had a sandblaster, just get it real done real fast.

“Thank you again, Taako, you did perfectly.” Kravitz waits for him to be mostly lipstick free, and then tugs him into a grateful kiss. Taako takes two extra for good measure, and one for his pocket, and another to collect interest in the bank. 

“You bet your sweet ass, I did. I had to recite the whole clown code to those jokers to get them to believe me. You know, not just anyone can do this shit.” 

“Yeah,” Kravitz says, smiling glittery-eyed at his makeup-less face. “You’re a real stand-up ham.”