#by here i mean this shitty dead end job

[daandori]

i really dont want to fucking be here today

[rin-may-1103]

The Wrong Robin Au (part five)

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Danny sat back with a wince, watching as Bruce and his butler (The man introduced himself as Alfred) collected themselves. Jason's book was now sitting on a shelf, displayed for everyone to see. Bruce's desk was moved back into place, and the chairs were repositioned. There wasn't any evidence of what had just occurred.

"would you like me to get you a rag, young sir?" Alfred asked, turning to glance at Danny with a raised brow.

Danny lifted his hand and gently touched his nose, hissing when it stung and throbbed. Pulling his hand back, Danny found his fingers covered in blood.

Well, that was going to be hard to explain later...

"yeah, thanks." Danny finally agreed, moving his hand back to hopefully keep more of his blood from staining his hoodie. His ectoplasm was just begging him to heal it, but he held back, watching as Bruce turned to face him.

The man was no longer crying his little emo furry heart out or blinded with rage. Instead, he was standing still with a calculative gleam in his eyes. Danny just knew the man was going to do a background check as soon as Danny left. (Or when Danny wasn't paying attention, he was Batman after all. Who knows what he was going to do?)

It's a good thing there was nothing that connected him with Phantom. Besides the drop in grades and convenient absences, but that can be excused by the trauma of his accident and all the ghost fights. Otherwise, Danny would be screwed.

No one besides Jazz and Wes has been able to figure it out, and he'd like to keep it that way, thank you very much. He's retired now, or well, was retired. He might be getting back into the crime-fighting part again, but he was going to do everything in his power to keep from getting pulled back into ghost-fighting and dealing with the occult every day.

He could handle following Batman around at night and punching a few goons here and there, but the ghost fights? The world ending catastrophes? The annoying cult summoning? He didn't think he could handle it again. And sure, if there was no other option he would go out and protect the world. (It would be very shitty of him not to if he could do something when no one else could. He lived here too, you know.)

But that's not his job anymore. No, that's what the Justice League is for. (was for... He had forgiven them for not being there for him when it mattered. They were here now. So it was fine. No, it wasn't) They're the ones who are protecting Earth now. They're the ones who have to drop everything and help save the world. Not him. Not anymore.

Maybe he could think of this as a really shitty vacation? Then once he's sure Batman is stable and that Tim won't do something stupid, Danny could go back to Amity and figure out what he wanted to do with the rest of his life. Maybe he could even go to college?

"Why are you here?" Bruce asked, his calculated eyes still boring into Danny's head. Danny, having gotten used to ghosts popping up and speaking to him at all hours of the day, didn't flinch as he glanced back up at Bruce.

"To keep you from killing yourself, seriously dude. Did you not hear when I told you earlier?" Danny spat, pointedly wiping the blood off his chin.

Bruce barely even moved, but Danny could tell he had winced. Sensing people's emotions was going to become one of the more useful powers he had, wasn't it?

...

How long was his nose going to bleed, again? Didn't broken noses stop bleeding after a few minutes?

His core flared in annoyance, finally making him remember a very important fact.

He was half dead. As in his body doesn't heal or change without the influence of his ectoplasm. This means he's going to keep bleeding until he either doesn't have any blood to bleed or he lets his ectoplasm heal it.

Great.

That's not going to make Bruce suspicious at all. Nope. Definitely not.

Focusing on his nose, Danny let his ectoplasm rush to the area and start healing it, but held it back before it could do more than stop the bleeding.

Alfred entered the room not even a second later, "here you go, young sir. Just hold it there for a minute while I prepare my med kit."

Danny grabbed the rag handed to him and pressed it to his nose, ignoring the sharp pain. He watched as Alfred placed his med kit on the side table and started digging through it. After a few minutes, Alfred leaned back and pulled on some gloves.

"let me have a look," he demanded, turning to kneel in front of Danny. Danny sighed, removed the rag, and leaned forward to let Alfred get a closer look. The man clicked his tongue, but gently grabbed his face and studied the injury.

Bruce shuffled awkwardly in the background, looking like a child waiting to get scolded. Good. He was a grown-ass man for crying out loud, he should get scolded for breaking Danny's nose.

"Alright, this will hurt," Alfred said, moving his hands to gently rest next to Danny's nose. Danny, having dealt with many broken noses before, looked away from the older man and stared Bruce dead in the eyes.

With sure but quick movements, Alfred straightened his nose with a loud crunch. Bruce's eyes narrowed as Danny bit his tongue, keeping any other sign of pain to himself.

"There," Alfred sighed, "it was a clean break, so you'll only have to keep some gause on it until you go to the doctor. Master Bruce?"

Bruce grunted, before finally looking over to his butler. "I'm fine, Alfred."

"good," Alfred nodded, "then I shall put on some tea. In the meantime, I recommend you two have a civil conversation."

Danny leaned back, taking the wet rag Alfred handed to him, and cleaned his face. Now that his nose looked normal, Danny allowed his ectoplasm to start healing it. He didn't plan on seeing Bruce again anytime soon, so any bruises or swelling he should have, won't matter.

Alfred finished placing his medical supplies away and held his hand out for the rags, once Danny gave them to him, the man swiftly left the room. bruce will probably want to test his blood later now that Danny thinks about it. Well, that's definitely something Batman would do, Danny thinks.

Oh well, it's not like his blood would reveal anything. It's literally just his human blood. Now if he was bleeding as Phantom? This would be a whole other problem.

"Who are you and how do you know who I am?" Bruce grunts, stepping closer to Danny in an attempt to be intimidating. And it would have been if Danny hadn't just watched the man breakdown ugly crying not even thirty minutes ago.

Rolling his eyes, Danny leaned back in his chair and huffed, "I told you this already. My name's Danny. I'm here to keep you from killing yourself. And it's pretty obvious who you are if you just think about it." Because it was obvious. Once Tim pointed it out to him, that is.

He wasn't about to just tell Batman that though, Tim didn't deserve to have the man breathing down his neck just for being smart enough to figure it out.

Before Bruce could respond, Danny's phone rang once, twice, then stopped. Glancing at the clock, Danny found it was only six. This meant, it was either Sam texting him to figure out where he was (which wasn't likely, since he usually disappeared in the mornings) or it was Tim.

Grabbing his phone, Danny unlocked it and was met with a message from Tim.

TIM: thanks for listening to me.

Before Danny could send a response, another text came through.

TIM: when did you want to meet up and discuss a plan? DANNY: tomorrow, after you get some sleep. TIM: I did! I took a nap! DANNY: not a long one. TIM: I'm not tired though! DANNY: Then pretend to sleep or something, I don't care. Could you just make sure you sleep before I text you tomorrow? please, kid? TIM: whatever. you're not even that much older than me, you know that right? Danny: sure kid.

"Who is that?" Bruce suddenly asks, making Danny glance up at him.

Shit, uh... "The kid I'm babysitting later."

You know what? That works. And it's technically true.

Bruce just hummed, allowing Danny to turn back to his phone.

TIM: I'm thirteen! DANNY: Yeah? Well, I'm seventeen, almost eighteen. Anyone under the age of fifteen is a literal baby. which makes you? that's right. a child. and what do children need? Sleep. They need sleep, Tim. TIM: I'm not a child! and if you've forgotten; I still have all the evidence proving that you're Robin. I'm petty enough to release it. DANNY: Go ahead. If it'll make you sleep at night.

Tim left him on read after not responding for a few minutes. Bruce had wandered over to his desk to work on something, probably Danny's background check.

Sighing, Danny sent a text to Sam letting her know he'd be busy for the rest of the morning and to let Tucker know. Once that was done, he shoved his phone into his pocket and stood up. Bruce glanced at him for a moment before going back to what he was doing, leaving Danny to look around the office.

Pictures were hanging on the wall, books covering the shelves, and random objects covering everything else. Basically, Bruce's office was filled with all sorts of things. Things that could give Danny an idea of who Bruce was as a person. Something he was going to need to know if he planned to stick around and help him. which he was. because he'd promised Tim that he would.

Reaching out, Danny picked up one of the photos and examined it. It was Bruce, Alfred, and some boy Danny didn't recognize, though they looked eerily like him. They could even pass as his clone if you squinted.

"Hey, Bruce," Danny started, "Who's this?"

Next

[steviewashere]

Late night fic idea that I'm definitely going to try and write at some point!!

Definitely very angsty. Steve's got bad parents. A few arguments. And Steve basically restarting his adult life. But it would definitely have a happy ending! Walk with me here.

In early 1987, Steve gets into a nasty argument with his parents. About how much of a disappointment he is, how he can't hold a good enough job, that he's just not who they wanted him to be. They tell him, pretty loudly, that if he can't grow up, then he needs to get out.

He, of course, is very upset by the result of this argument. Because he's trying his damn hardest at this whole adult thing. He's trying his damn hardest to be the person everybody wants him to be; the older brother, the best friend, the boyfriend—the good guy. Yet, even though he's completely emotionally devastated, he still goes to Eddie's because they have a date.

He's not very attentive during the date. Ignoring Eddie's comments sometimes. Giving half answers. And Eddie takes it the opposite of something wrong with Steve—no, he thinks there's something wrong with him. They end up having their own nasty, explosive argument. One that ends with Eddie muttering something along the lines of, "God, I hate you so much right now." He doesn't mean it, knows he doesn't mean it because it's too easy to just say a bullshit claim than talk it all out, hash it out as it is, figure out the root of the problem. However, Steve doesn't know this. Steve thinks Eddie means it.

Thinks that Eddie's just been putting on this interested facade to save Steve's lonely, battered heart. That maybe the novelty of their relationship ran out a long time ago. Eddie's just now telling it as it is; the same way Nancy had. A bullshit relationship, one that never meant anything. (And similar to Nancy, they don't really mean it. It's all just moment of passion stuff).

Steve leaves Eddie's. Leaves with his heart dropped out of him, wet and dead on Eddie's carpet. He leaves with bile in the back of his throat, eyes that ache, a head that's too messy to sort through. And then, the only idea that becomes clear to him: he has to get out.

Get out of Hawkins.

Because if Eddie was thinking something like that all along, who else has been thinking the same thing? Dustin? Max? Robin?

He goes to work. Submits a letter of resignation. Gives the courtesy of two more weeks. And then...

He packs all that he thinks he needs in a couple bags: a backpack and a duffel bag. He sells his car, the only money he now has to his name, plus whatever his last Family Video paycheck is. Steve gets on the closest bus, one that'll take him to a shuttle, and he takes a train out of Indiana.

Goes west. Goes to a shitty neighborhood in Sacramento, as far as he can get. He got the transfer request sent over to a Family Video here, he'll start there soon. He stays in a hotel for a couple nights, a couple nights before he finds a last minute lease for a shitty apartment.

And he just stays there. Stays in Sacramento.

He calls Robin's house once on a payphone, that way he can't be tracked. Robin's not home when he calls. He gives a message to her mom: "Tell Robin that I'm sorry. And...and that I love"—he'd sigh—"Yeah. Yeah, just tell her that I'm sorry, please. I did what I had to." He hangs up, doesn't give another way for him to be contacted and he moves on.

Some years pass. He hasn't been taking care of himself all that well, it's noticeable in how he looks. Scraggly facial hair, heavy eyes, lanky and skinny body, he's mowed down most of his hair. Just looks like an imposter in his own skin. He's working a different dead-end retail job—some supermarket, one that's owned by a corporation, he's one in thousands; somebody not cared for. His social life is nothing. He's weird around other people, weird in general; trauma that's been left unsolved, nightmares that keep him awake (so his neighbors now have a vendetta against him), stares too hard, doesn't like to talk anymore. He's hollow. A man who nobody knows, no connotations, no stupid hierarchies or nicknames attached to him. He's just Steve Harrington, some guy.

Yet, in the time he's been there, he takes up a few hobbies. Ones that work well with his secluded lifestyle. He picks up painting and photography. Things he never thought he'd be interested in. But...but he gets too bored, so he tries.

Finds out that he's good. Finds out that he's good enough for his own small studio space. For a small exhibit in the local art museum. And there, on the floor of his exhibit, idling between people who want to know more about the guy that keeps showing up in his paintings: brown eyes and pink mouth and smiles that are too big for his face; and the woman: a bob with bangs, crystal blue eyes, and a kindness that shows in her soft smiles; it's there that he sees an all too familiar face.

Eddie meets his eyes. Older, grown into his body, same brown eyes, same long curly hair. And there's a sheen of tears in his stare. A recognition he never thought he'd receive.

And there's silence. People passing them by.

Until, when the exhibit is empty except for them, Steve can only muster a simple, "Hey." And a smile, something thin that doesn't feel very real. Didn't want to be found, not yet. But in the paintings, he's been dreaming; he's been searching.

From the entryway of another exhibit, one that connects to Steve's, Robin appears. She's got that '90s pixie. And cherry stained lips. Grunge eyeshadow and an ill fitting, hole-riddled t-shirt that Steve slowly realizes is one he wore; those red Converse from Scoops, faded black Sharpie, but the only text that's still dark (as if it's been written over and over) is one he put there: "Dingus was here". She doesn't even speak. Only knows. Tripping over her own feet, dashing across the waxed floor, sliding across it with clumsy limbs. Crashing straight into Steve, hefting him up in her arms, squeezing him so tight he can't breathe.

When she places him back down on the ground, standing side by side with Eddie, the two of them simply staring at him in awe and relief, Eddie finally speaks for the two of them.

He fucking speaks. His voice is dripping with relief, yearning rich and honey-sweet in the vowels. Words full of love that's been stirring slow like a stew in his heart, thick and clogging.

"There you are, sweetheart. There you are."

[n1ghtwr1ter]

At the end of my latest TLT reread and it’s been physically painful attempting to read the last 40+ pages of Nona. Like, the short shrift that Gideon/Kiriona gets given by the people in the story…the theoretical good guys who honestly only see her as a thing, as a means to an end with an inconvenient dead soul attached to it… It makes me want to rip my own heart out of my chest.

Nobody has cared about Gideon her whole life. Most people, in fact, if they remembered about her at all, went out of their way to tell her how much they wished she didn’t exist. In the final chapters of Gideon, she finally gets the thing she’s been desperate for her whole life: somebody telling her that they need her, they care that she exists, and they badly want her to go on doing it. This allows her to make peace with the prospect that at the ripe old age of 18, she needs to die so that that person can go on living and living and living, using the castrated remnants of her soul as fuel to do so. Not a great way to go, but at least Gideon would get to be useful to somebody, would get to be remembered for something.

And then she wakes up in the wrong body, and finds out that her sacrifice - her attempt to be useful in the most selfless way possible, in that her self will no longer exist - has been rejected. And not only that, but the person she tried to give herself to - the one who was supposed to care about her - went to extreme lengths to make completely sure that she no longer remembered about Gideon.

She literally cut Gideon out of her brain.

And now, drifting along in the worst sort of half life where she’s inhabiting her body but it’s no longer really hers, in very obvious fashion - there’s holes in it, her heart is missing, and it’s got her shitty father’s handprints all over it (not even touching how much of a violation that is), indelibly - she finally meets back up with the small group of people who could theoretically be relied upon to be glad to see her again.

But then the one who was supposed to care about her most tries to kiss her (massively OOC for Harrow), and turns out to not even be there - it’s some weird baby inhabiting her body, and doing a really shit job of it too. The rest of them won’t stop talking about how they need her to break into the Tomb - as if she was just another key, same as the ones they worked together to acquire in Canaan House, just bigger and more inconvenient - and/or how they both fucked and killed her mom, who also (surprise, surprise) wished that Gideon had never existed, but saw her as a thing that needed to be done for the good of the mission.

Ultimately, they all make it abundantly clear - Palamedes, Camilla, Pyrrha, and especially Nona, all these people who are supposed to be kind and good and right - that they would prefer she wasn’t there. That it just be her body, with no Gideon attached - at least not Gideon the way she is now, broken and rejected and miserable. They would all far have preferred that she not have her own inconvenient thoughts and feelings and desires and impulses - that she just be inanimate and let the important people, the grown ups, get things done.

They wish she didn’t exist. Same as everybody else in her life, save one, and now she’s left wondering whether Harrow really meant it at all. Because if she did, she wouldn’t have left Gideon to Kiriona’s fate.

And honestly? Really, truly? I know everybody in the fandom loves Pal and Cam and Nona and Pyrrha, but in the end I couldn’t give less of a shit about them. They are fucking side characters, and as intriguing as Nona has been from a worldbuilding standpoint, I ultimately resent having been forced to read 400+ pages of filler bullshit about fucking side characters. I am a butch, and I’m here for my sarcastic, loving, angry, vulnerable, forgiving, and yes, inconvenient sword butch. I’m here for Gideon. But Gideon has been fridged for the last two books of the series in which she is supposed to be a, if not the, main character.

And it feels like almost nobody else in the fandom feels the same way, which, fine. I’m used to that. I’m also used to being told I’m projecting; and I’m used to being told that I’m inconvenient too, in my thoughts and my opinions and the mere fact of my existence. I spent the first eighteen years of my life being told I was inconvenient. Yet another point of overidentification with Gideon.

But in case anybody still thinks that Nona proves that Gideon was an asshole all along, think about all of the above. Think about how it would make you feel to come back from not just death but from the erasure of your existence, something you chose in order to save the life of someone you loved, and be told that you’re inconvenient. Think about how you’d feel if you’d been told all your life that it would be better for everyone if you didn’t exist. And then tell me that Kiriona isn’t in the right and that I should give a rat’s ass what happens to literally anybody else.

It’s Kiriona Hours up in this House, butches. We’ve spent long enough caring about people who would prefer we weren’t around. For once in our entire lives we were told we were important; we were told we mattered; we were told we were the main character. We were going to, if not get the girl and save the world, at least get to do something real, something important, something like being the hero.

But that’s over now; we’re back to being wrong and bad and inconvenient thanks to the simple fact of our existence. So it’s time to embrace it. Let’s be a little shit. Let’s be kind of a dick. Let’s have our own agenda, let’s play our cards close to our heartless chest, let’s allow our circle of empathy to contract to ourselves and maybe one more person. That’s where I’m at right now. And I don’t see that changing anytime soon.

[exhausted-exho]

Not Fit For a Spy

Dating Pezzy had its perks. I mean you had not only him but Sly, too. But there were also the downsides. Every night, without fail, you'd somehow end up in bed first, trying to sleep.

And every night, without fail, he'd try to sneak into bed with you without waking you up. And fail.

Tonight was no different. He'd been streaming for hours and you'd had a long day at work. Just coworkers being stupid, like always. So even though you'd simply been in chat as a Mod you were growing more tired by the second.

Signing off while he was midgame, Max didn't even realize you were leaving. It didn't bother you, it happened all the time, but you kind of just wanted a hug from him. You got home while he was already streaming so you didn't get much more than a quick out-of-from hug and peck on the cheek when he'd heard you get home.

Pushing the slight bitterness to the side, knowing that it was merely from work stress, you closed twitch on your phone and plugged the device in on the nightstand before getting comfortable. With how drained you were from the day it was fairly easy to fall asleep for once.

A few hours later, you woke up out of nowhere. You were unsure what time it was but everything was dead silent. Unease pricked at your skin, half-asleep as you were.

And then you heard it.

"Sly, not right now," he tutted. "You're gonna trip me and then Mom's going to wake up."

His attempt at whispering was absolutely terrible to be entirely honest. You tried to hold in a tired laugh, you really did, but a quick curse followed by stumbling feet and a soft meow broke you.

"Oh, shit, did I wake you baby?"

"Yeah, but it's okay."

"I'm sorry." You could hear the pout in his voice and started laughing again, yawning halfway through the noise.

"It's okay, just come to bed."

"...I'm trying." The sound of the pout was ever-present. Speedrunning must've been tough. That or chat pissed him off somehow. "Sly keeps running between my feet."

Reaching for your phone, you turned on the flashlight and squinted, not ready for the brightness. The illumination showed a frustrated boyfriend and a frustrated cat. With a small smile, you called Sly over, letting her curl into your side to leave a clear floor for your boyfriend. He sent you a grateful smile and made his way over, flopping onto the bed and halfway onto you, face buried in your chest, arms around your waist.

With a cat on one side of you and a grown man on the other, you struggled to turn off the flashlight on your phone and put it back down. Eventually, you managed and used your hand to now card through his hair.

"You alright?"

"Mmm." He adjusts a bit, getting more comfortable. "How was work?"

"It was kinda shitty," you admit. "But it's better now."

"I'm sorry I was streaming when you got home."

"Don't apologize for doing your job," you scolded.

"I didn't even realize when you left chat. Then when I came in to check on you before continuing for a little longer you were already asleep. I'm sorry."

"It's alright, hun, I promise. It's all better now. I just wanted a better hug and here we are." You yawned again. "Now go to sleep, I'm tired."

"Night, baby." He pressed a gentle kiss to your throat, his stubble tickling your skin.

"Night, Max."

[eddiernunson]

Really Drives Me Mad | Older!Eddie x Fem!Reader | 18 +

Previous Part | Master List | Next Part

Big big thank you to @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you for editing and spit balling ideas and giving feedback.

Another big thank you to @bebe07011 for spit balling ideas and fueling my ego <3

I have no idea where this story or be without either of you girls. Or me, for that matter.

Word count: 16.6k

Warnings: Degradation/praise, light use of sir without any discussion, light hunter/prey play, crying while fucking (eddie), and a whole steddie story at the start. Lots of talk of their future in this part.

Author's note: When I say I am blown away by the reception of this fanfic, wholeheartedly mean it. Any word of kindness you have given just fueled the fire in me. I have thoroughly enjoyed writing it and exploring where the story will take us.

Due to some worry in the comments from last part I will clear this up: Neither Eddie nor Reader will be cheating, they're it for one another. Steve is here as a long time friend, someone with a wife and kids at home.

That being said, thank you so much, I really do appreciate it.

edit: somehow the first paragraph was missing? all fixed.

About 26/27 Years Ago:

At the failure of both their university careers, Steve and Eddie both dropped out within weeks of one another. This was unplanned, neither one of them knowing as they went back to Hawkins to a mini reunion. They agreed to meet one another for a drink, just the two of them, where Steve kindly asked how Eddie’s schooling was going, to which Eddie answered sheepishly that he had dropped out. Steve let out a bark of laughter, laughing through his response that he had also dropped out.

The mutual sigh of relief waved over them both, the two of them grateful they wouldn’t be receiving that same damn look of pity again. Their conversation then flowed into ease; the embarrassment was no longer there for either of them. Since they both dropped out, they each had found a dead-end job to make their ends meet while they figured out their next move.

Simply, they were at the exact same spot in life. This would be reoccurring for them over the next few years, finding their wives within the same six-month span, and both Arlo and Dylan being born within a year of one another. It’s no wonder why they became so close.

Steve had a crazy idea in their third hour in the bar booth, a little bit buzzed. “Dude. We should go to Vegas.”

Eddie wrinkled his eyebrows, completely thrown off by the suggestion. “What?”

“C’mon, Vegas! Our jobs both suck, and we’re the only ones who actually understand each-other’s shituations.”

Eddie sighed and took another sip of his beer. “Fuck it, let’s go.”

“Fuck yeah!”

“When?”

“Now!”

Eddie nearly spit out his beer, looking at Steve like he was crazy. “Now?”

“Dude. I still have my parents’ credit cards. They’re too lazy to actually cut me off.” Steve’s words were a bit slurred, holding up the many black cards.

Eddie downed his beer; the financials were his number one reason not to go. If this was gonna be on the Harrington’s dime, you best believe he would take full advantage of his friend’s shitty parents’ money.

Halfway through their first bus, Steve and Eddie started to sober up and wondered if it was a good idea. Too late, they were already four hours away. It took a total of 31 hours of driving on the road and about six different buses, but they finally made it to Nevada with nothing but the shirts on their backs and delirious glee.

The first two days they spent gambling and shooting the shit, both nights staring up at the bodies of women with numerous dollar bills in string thongs. (Eddie will omit this part when he tells it to you, for your own sanity’s sake.) On the third night, as Steve was a bit more drunk than the previous two, Eddie found a strong ass strain of weed on the strip and was a bit stoned. One of them managed to convince the other that finding girls to hook up with was the good idea.

They both went on with their night, keeping an eye out for any girl they could prospect. Even with a few conversations with some girls, they both came up short. Hooking up with women who were also running away from their problems was a bad idea.

Steve found a girl, but soon realized she was a dud when she made fun of Eddie’s bandana wrapped around his head. Eddie came up to Steve as she rolled her eyes and stomped off. Jesus. As he rested on the bar, he noticed something he wondered if he had imagined the whole three days they were there. Eddie’s eyes lingered on him, checking him out not-so-subtly. Steve leered on Eddie’s soft pink lips for too long for Steve to confidently tell himself he was not interested. His eyes raked down Eddie, taking in everything, subconsciously licking his lips. Having these thoughts, he realized Eddie was talking to him the entire time and he didn’t take in a single word.

“Well, that was a bust. C’mon. Let’s go get our sleep, we’re spending the next two days bussing home.” Steve yanked Eddie by the sleeve of the gift shop shirt he got up to the hotel elevator.

Eddie wandered into the bathroom when they got to their room and when he came out, he saw Steve sitting on the edge of his bed, legs out and leant back on straight arms. Eddie chuckled nervously. As dorky as it was, Steve looked fantastic in the makeshift gift shop outfit he had gotten himself.

“Steve?” He asked, hesitantly walking towards him.

An uncontrollable huff of laughter left Steve’s mouth, he stood up to face Eddie, accidentally meeting him only inches away from his face. It was a flicker. Only a flicker. A flicker of Eddie’s eyes looking directly to Steve’s lips, and Steve couldn’t help but smile. “You know, Eddie. If you want to kiss me, all you have to do is ask.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide, the panic in his face was clear. “I-I…” He stuttered, his breathing picked up exponentially in the last two minutes and the air in the hotel room was thick.

Steve gently placed one hand on Eddie’s cheek bone, slowly caressing it as to calm the nerves he could tell were radiating off Eddie. He smiled, glancing down very obviously to Eddie’s mouth to ask for permission. Eddie nodded the tiniest goddamn nod in the world and nearly blacked out when Steve’s lips came rushing for his own.

When their lips met, Eddie moaned into it, moving to someone’s bed, he couldn’t tell nor did he care which, and let Steve fall on top of him.

The kisses were messy, clothes were thrown all over the hotel room, and the sex was rough and giggly, but desperate.

And only one time, they decided as they woke up on opposite sides of the bed, laughing at the sheer absurdity that filled the air as they were both wrapped in white sheets.

-

“Uh, Eddie? It’s for you… his name is Steve Harrington?” Eddie pauses, in the middle of hanging a sweater in what seems to be the designated spot for knitwear. A quick assessment tells you that you now have more sweaters than you need, observing them all hung delicately by his hands.

“No way.” Eddie mutters, a smile slowly creeping up on his face. He jogs right past you to the hallway and down the stairs, the quick thumping of his feet loud in the silence of the house.

Your brain takes a moment to catch up to you, following Eddie’s lead back down the stairs. As the front entrance comes into view halfway down the stairs, you see the two men wrapped up in a genuine embrace, arms flexed as they hug one another. They separate, but not by much, maintaining only a few feet between them.

“You didn’t tell me when you were coming!” Eddie accuses playfully, patting Steve on his shoulder.

Steve’s hands are on his hips, shrugging his shoulders. “Well, it wouldn’t have mattered anyway, I ended up coming 2 weeks early.”

“No shit, hey?” Eddie leans back, crossing his arms.

They fall into a conversation so easily that their comfort with one another radiates off them. You would be offended Eddie hasn’t introduced you to him yet if it weren’t for their entertaining back and forth with one another.

“How long have you two known each other?” You mistakenly interrupt them, cutting off the conversation.

“Uh, since high school.” Eddie answers, elbowing Steve.

Steve’s eyes widen deliriously, jerking back at the neck. “Uh, try Jr. High.” He laughs. “Eddie here was the new kid.” He seems to laugh at the memory of young Eddie. Man, you’ll need photographic proof. “The weird-o new kid.”

“Oh, sorry my mom abandoned me, Steve.” Eddie laughs, not a lick of remorse behind it. You gulp, your heartstrings pulled at his throwaway comment.

“Abandonment issues can forgive weirdness only for so long, Eddie.”

“Yeah, but I got it renewed fifteen years ago. Didn’t even have to ask, she just did it for me.”

There’s a moment of silence until they break into laughter, poking fun at one another.

“I’m so sorry, who’s this?” Steve gestures to you, walking over to where you’re standing by the stairs.

“Oh, I’m Y/N.” You hold your hand out to him, somewhat nervous to be meeting someone who’s known Eddie for so long. Decades long before you were even born.

Steve’s hand meets yours and shakes it gracefully, his kind chocolate brown eyes meeting yours. “He paying you well?”  You’re not sure how to answer this, your hand still holding Steve’s as you and Eddie give another a look of confusion. “Oh, sorry. You must be Dylan’s girlfriend! Where is he off to, anyway?” Steve lets go of your hand.

“Steve?”

“Hmm?”

“Remember I told you I was seeing someone?” You smile to yourself under the mere indication that Eddie talked to someone about you.

Steve nods, remembering the life in Eddie’s voice when he called. “Yep.”

Eddie points to you, gesturing multiple times until Steve finally gets the hint. “Oh…oh. Oh!” Steve’s hands move back to his hips, his eyes switching back and forth between you and Eddie quickly. “But she’s a child.” Steve deadpans, pointing to you and furrowing his brows at Eddie.

Eddie chuckles, placing his arm around you as Steve takes it in. You’re slightly offended on your own behalf at the prospect of being called a child. Eddie places a kiss on your temple to ease the tension, making you melt into it. “No, she’s not.”

You tilt your head back at Eddie, giving him a sleepy smile, eyes half closed. He kisses you as if to put the final nail in the coffin in any disbelief Steve might’ve had. You breathe deeply as he pulls away, and goddamn, did you have a long day today.

“Wait until Robin hears you’re dating someone half your age.” Steve muses, shaking his head. “She’s gonna have a field day.”

“Wait till she hears we’re already shacked up.” Eddie jokes, bringing you to the couch and therefore leading Steve as well.

As you sit down on the couch, you cuddle into him, head laying down on his chest. Steve asks how his shop is doing, to which Eddie gives the run down on the nicest cars he’s seen and a customer’s hunk of junk he couldn’t believe was still driving around. Steve explains the logistics of his job, and by the tone of Eddie’s voice, you could tell he had no idea any of what Steve was saying, but he was being supportive in tone, nonetheless.

“How are the kids?” Eddie asks, and you watch as Steve’s eyes light up in response.

“Oh, they’re great.”

“How old are they?” You ask, a tad curious.

“Uh, Arlo is 24, Nick is 17, Dustin is 15, and Eliza is 4.” Steve riles off, letting his head fall back on the couch. Damn, he sure didn’t look like a dad of four.

“Is Eliza 4 already?” Eddie asks, shaking his head.

“Sure is.” Steve answers, bringing out his phone. He unlocks it, and presumably goes into his photos until passing it over to you and Eddie. “Here. This was from yesterday.”

“Awww.” You let out, seeing the image of a little girl with Steve’s curls playing on a water mat.

“Oh, aww” Eddie lets out, laughing through it. Eliza is adorable, that much is clear. But as you look up at Eddie scrolling through a few of the photos of Eliza playing in the water, the hearts in his eyes are undeniable. He laughs softly at them, as if he can’t get enough of any of the photos. As Eddie passes the photos with his praises of Eliza, a stirring gut feeling sits there, a feeling you’ve been proud that you’ve been able to hold off with Eddie already having a grown child.

Goddamn, you wanted to have this man’s babies. Or at least, baby. The idea of him looking this sweetly at a child you made together invades your heart and makes you squirm on his chest a bit. You lean off his chest, afraid of these strong feelings of wanting this much of a future with him; it was a little scary. “I’m sleepy. Been a long day, I’m gonna go take a nap.”

“Alright, here.” He gets up with you, taking your hand and walking you around the couch. “Be right back, Steve.”

Eddie goes up the stairs to your room, escorting you to your now shared bed. Last week it had dark grey sheets. Now it has your favourite yellow daisy-themed sheets that Eddie insisted upon using. You lie down, still thinking of the way his eyes lit up and the smile that took over his face from the pictures. It made something stir in you. You were exhausted from your long day, that was no lie, but needed the excuse to leave before you did something crazy.

Like riding him on the couch. (And begging for his babies)

“Have a good sleep, sweetheart. I’ll wake you when dinner’s ready.” He kisses your forehead, soft and sweet. “Love you.”

“Love you.” You mutter through your breath, eyes already closing.

-

You’re already fast asleep by the time Eddie closes the door. As he reaches the bottom of the steps, Steve looks up at him expectantly, his brow slightly furrowed. He’s concerned, and to be fair, he has a reason to be. “So, we’re dating 20-year-olds, now?”

Eddie bites his tongue from correcting your age. “I guess you could say that.”

“What is this, some sort of midlife crisis? Get a red sports car, not someone who beats my oldest by months, hell your kid by months. I mean, come on, man. Use your brain.” Steve taps his shoulder on the last sentence, surely thinking he’s putting Eddie’s head back on right. However, Eddie just sits through the lecture without defending himself so he can say his piece when the time comes. “I-I mean where did you even find her, on her way to school?”

The front door slams. Dylan’s home. “Dad, am I tripping or is Uncle Steve’s car out front—Hey!” He cuts himself off, jogging toward them as soon as he sees Steve on the couch. Steve stands up to give him a tight hug, having known Dylan since the day he was born. “What’re you doing here?”

“Came by for a visit, turns out your dad’s having a midlife crisis.”

Dylan’s brows pinch together as he glances around Steve to Eddie for clarification. Eddie shrugs his shoulders, pretending not to know a single thing Steve was talking about. “What, did he get a sports car or something? He says they look pretty but they’re not made to last.”

“No, no. I was talking about his pretty new girlfriend.” The pang of possessiveness that hits Eddie in the chest is unprecedented for Steve just calling you pretty.

Dylan hardly holds in his laughter, walking into the kitchen before a full-on laugh escapes his throat. Steve stares off at him, glancing at Eddie and clearly asking, what the hell is wrong with that boy? Dylan makes himself calm down, coming back into the living room with a shit eating grin on his face. “So did he tell you how they met?”

“N-no.” Steve hesitates based on the grin on his face.

“He hasn’t let me get that far, yet.” Eddie chimes in, looking a little cozy as he settles into the couch. You were right, it has been a long ass day.

“I’m gonna tell him.” It wasn’t a threat per se, Dylan just wanted to watch the panic in his dad’s eyes.

Eddie lifts his head off the back pillow of the couch, having been looking up at the ceiling. “He’s gonna find out eventually. I was just gonna wait until she woke up.”

“Tell me…what?” Steve asks, tired of watching Eddie and Dylan’s back and forth.

Dylan gives one last chuckle, the laughter telling Eddie it’s not something he’s very bitter about anymore. They still haven’t talked about it; he’s been waiting for Dylan to come to him. “She was my girlfriend, first.” Dylan says through a smirk. “She cheated on me. With dad.”

Steve processes it, both Dylan and Eddie can see the hamster wheel turning in his head. He looks back and forth between Dylan and Eddie, his eyes staying on either one for a moment. His eyes don’t blink the entire time, switching back and forth for a solid minute.

“Dude!” Steve finally says, landing on Eddie. “What the fuck happened, Ed?”

Dylan continues laughing, walking over to his dad. “Yeah dad, what happened?”

Eddie lets his head fall back on the pillows again, closing his eyes for a brief second. “Well, I tried to keep my distance…she did not.” Shit, that’s putting all the blame on you. “I wasn’t strong enough to tell her to break up with Dylan, first. Felt like I was seventeen years old, hormones just raging to a point where I couldn’t think straight with her right there.” He gets up from the couch, walking up to his closest friend of 30+ years. “She’s not just some 25-year-old, Steve. This girl, Steve, she’s everything, and somehow, she’s convinced that she’s the lucky one.”

When his dad spews cheesy shit like this it certainly softens the blow. Feels funny that he ever dated you in the first place at times.

Steve seems to miss the fact that Dylan has gotten almost completely over it by now. “That’s all good and nice, but I think you’re missing the fact that you stole your son’s girlfriend?”

Dylan lets out another laugh, wishing Steve was here when everything went down. That would’ve been a show. “Listen, Uncle Steve. I appreciate you standing up for me, truly, I do. If you were here three weeks ago when they fucked in my truck, then that would’ve been…just great.”

“You fucked in his tru—”

Dylan cuts him off, “But honestly, I didn’t date her for very long. If anything, I had only begun to develop some deeper feelings for her, but these two had it right away. They’re good together. I wish they could’ve just told me their feelings and then slept together, but with Maya…if she was dating one of my boys I would’ve done the same thing.”

Steve’s hand lands on Dylan’s shoulder, seeing the truth in his statement. “Well, you’ll have to tell me about Maya, then.” He turns back to Eddie, a pinch appearing back between his brows. “But seriously, you fucked in his truck? What kind of sicko are you?”

“His was unlocked. He knows better.” Eddie shrugs, Steve rolls his eyes fondly.

“Good god, man.”

“I was actually just here to grab something, but I’ll see you for supper?” Dylan shoots, mid stride towards the stairs.

“We’re eating out, be back by 8:30.” Steve calls up, and Dylan waves his hand in acknowledgement.

“We are?” Eddie asks, sitting back on the couch.

“Oh yeah, Munson.” He sits on the cushion beside him, leaning onto his knees. “But tell me about her. Sorry I just assumed…but Robin will absolutely be calling you to rip your head off.”

“Or…she can find out in person one day.”

“Like at your wedding?” Steve teases, but lets out a burst of laughter when the blush appears on his cheeks. “Seriously, you hear wedding bells?”

“I’m not getting any younger, dude. But my hormones are, man, she has me doing multiple rounds, sometimes more than one a day!” Steve’s eyes widen, intrigued by this. “I haven’t fucked like this since my 20s.” Eddie pauses, thinking about his sex life back then. “I’m not even sure I fucked like this in my 20’s, to be honest.”

Steve lets out a laugh, shoving Eddie for good measure. Of course, being men, they both skip over the fact that yes, Eddie has had wedding bells in his head enough to start looking at rings…and go for the sex talk.

“Okay, sex aside. Tell me about her.”

It takes only five minutes of Steve listening to Eddie ramble on about you to realize it absolutely was the real deal. No mid-life crises here. Eddie seemed calm and laxed, whereas his ex always made him wired. For the record, Steve never quite liked her. She had Eddie looking like a wet chihuahua, yapping at every drop of a hat. Steve was a little relieved when she left, ‘cause no one could convince Eddie she was not good for him.

Turns out he just needed to wait a few years. 15, in fact.

-

You wake up to the feeling of Eddie’s hand on your cheek, carefully petting you as he places gentle kisses on your lips. “Baby.” He mumbles, causing you to stir. “Baby, wake up.”

As you start to wake up, you become increasingly aware that he was lying right behind you. “Mmm.”

“C’mon, we’re going out for supper with Steve, you have to get up.”  

Still reeling from the dream that you were just ripped out of, you arch your back slightly, grinding your ass against Eddie’s instantly-hardening cock. You hear a sharp inhale, Eddie’s grip on your hip intensifying. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but we literally don’t have time.” Eddie comments, his forehead falling onto the back of your head in an act of self discipline.

You frown, giving a good hip swivel. “We always have time.”

“Not today, you don’t! Get up!” You pop awake, aware of Steve’s presence in the hallway as he overshadows Eddie, waking you up more fully.

“He knows me enough to know I’d try to sneak something in.” Eddie murmurs, as not to be heard.

You turn around in your bed, now lying face to face with him, a devious smile creeping on your face. “So, sneak something in.”

Eddie’s brows lift at your suggestive tone. “Fuck.” He mutters, crawling out of bed before you could give his neck one of those licks that just melts him into a puddle. “C’mon baby. Get all dressed up, meet you downstairs by 8:30.”

Your teeth grit together, grabbing your phone that was tossed haphazardly aside when you fell asleep. The screen illuminates itself and your eyes widen when you realize you only have…fifteen minutes to get ready. Well, why didn’t he just say that?

You rush into your closet, and for the first time, the amount of clothes you now own settles in. How the fuck are you ever getting ready ever again? You go to the dresses, skimming through the more family friendly options. You trail  over each hanger one at a time until you reach the right one. Some light makeup is done, a five-minute routine.

You finally reach the bottom step at 8:29 pm, all the guys sitting on the couch watching the tv. “Ready!”

Eddie glances at you and breaks into a smirk. “You look great, sweetheart.”

Your face heats up as you find a pair of shoes that won’t make you hate yourself. You smile, recalling your afternoon in the crowded dressing room. “Thanks, Ed.”

Meanwhile, Steve takes only two seconds as he witnesses this interaction to realize. “No. Go change.”

“W-what?” You stutter, not used to Steve’s blunt stature.

“I-just-just go change. I don’t need to be watching this all night!”

“Fine.” You roll your eyes, kicking your shoe off to put on a dress that Eddie didn’t salivate over that very afternoon.

“Wait, what? What was wrong with the dress?” Dylan asks Steve, not having a clue as to what just transpired.

“Trust me, you don’t wanna know.”

“Hey, Dyl, you remember that green little dress that she had?” Eddie asks, recalling it on his carpeted floor earlier that day before he burned it.

Dylan smiles, then recalls what was so special about the dress. “Oh.” He mumbles, now feeling uncomfortable.

“I think she’s overwhelmed with choices, which is why she picked the dress in the first place. I’ll go help. Meet you there.”

-

Steve put up a fight on just meeting you there, but one on one time with his boy is something he wouldn’t pass up. Especially when he talks about a girl the way he did about Maya.

Eddie didn’t give Steve much of an option, still trying to get rid of the hard on that he had. He bursts through the bedroom and closet door, and as he does so, the front door slams shut. Eddie walks in to you staring aimlessly in your underwear at the dresses, not knowing which one to put on. Eddie comes from behind you, placing his stubbly chin onto your shoulder. “What’s up, baby?” He asks, casually drifting your underwear down your legs.  

You sigh, the trail of his fingertips sending shivers up your spine. “You got me too many dresses.”

“No, I didn’t.” Eddie says, you hear and feel behind you as he lets his own pants drop. “Bend a little bit.” He whispers as you feel his hard cock against your ass.

You do, lifting your ass up at an angle where he can slide right into your folds. He does, arms drifting below your torso and up to play with your tits as he fucks you from behind.

“I got the perfect amount for my sweet baby.” He mutters into your ear, both his hands doing things to your tits that make you whimper. “Love to spoil my beautiful girl.”

“Fuck, daddy.” You whine, your heat already so goddamn hot. “Help. Can’t decide on a dress.”

“Here.” Ed pauses, causing you to whine, but puts a dress in front of you. “Wear this one for daddy.”

“O-ok.” You stutter, barely paying attention to it. “Love you, daddy.”

“I love you,” he kisses your neck, wet and sweet, “so much, pretty baby.” You turn your head to face him, leaning in for a delicate kiss, your pussy clenching around him as you do.

You lean onto the white walls separating each compartment of the closet, closing your eyes as he fucks into you. “Daddy,” you whine, and he pulls your hair gently in response, bringing your head back to his.

“Yes, baby?”

“You’re so good to me, I’m so-so close.” You pant, giving him lustful eyes.

“Cum with me,” Eddie mutters, having been close himself a few times. He leans down, rubbing at your clit. You cum around him hard, yelling his name.

He catches your lips in a kiss when he cums, so you have no idea what he said.

He lets you catch your breath, wrapping his arms around you protectively until you let him know you’re okay. “Thank you, baby.”

“Oh that was just a spur of the moment, I just got lucky.” He jokes, bringing up the dress to you to get redressed.

“You think Steve—”

“Oh, I guarantee Steve already knows.” Eddie interrupts your worry, that Steve knew you were hooking up. “Just had to be sneaky.”

You put yourself in the dress, staring at it in the mirror. Okay, Eddie is seriously good at picking things that fit you well. Damn. “Let’s go baby.”

“Fuck, with you in that dress I’ll be gunning for round two all night.”

“Then we better go so we can come back and do it!” You assert playfully.

“Fuck, I love you.”

-

As you and Eddie sit down at the table where your ice cubes are already melted with the water droplets making a pool on the table, Steve doesn’t say a word, but the look he gives says enough. If he’s your boyfriend’s best friend, how come he already has the ability to make you feel like you had disappointed him?

The restaurant is a steakhouse, something worth dressing up for, but not like the one Eddie took you to. Steve managed to talk about all his kids, describing each one of the four and their distinct personalities to you.

Arlo is apparently a near carbon copy of his father, only differing on a few personality quirks here and there. He was in every sense of the word the eldest Harrington, making a reputation for the Harrington children to live up to at the daycare, elementary school and finally, but most importantly, high school.  Considering Steve raised his kids in Hawkins, Arlo knew the expectations for him and met them, tenfold. Steve never says it, but you can tell he’s so proud of how cool his kid turned out to be. Apparently, though they were closest in age, Dylan was closer to Nicky than to Arlo.

Nicky was the middle child for most of his life. He still considers himself to be, despite getting a younger sister four years ago. He had found himself gravitating towards the arts, and Steve found himself with a kid who spent his early mornings watching broadway bootlegs and collecting song books. This turned him into somewhat of a ladies’ man like Arlo, his baritone vibrato beautifully toned as he starred in most of his school musicals. Someday, Arlo wants to enroll in a drama school, and Steve still isn’t sure how he feels about it.

Dustin is the third child, and for a while, the baby. It’s explained to you that Dustin is named after a mutual friend, someone younger than both Eddie and Steve, someone they took under their wing and mutually adopted. When Dustin’s name was announced, Steve and his wife made sure he was in the room, so for the first hour of Dustin Harrington’s life, he was unnamed. Tears streamed down Dustin’s, (the original), face when he realized that Steve had named his child after him. Immediately, Dustin was his. Because of Dustin Henderson, Dustin Harrington is a complete dork. He’s completely invested in Star Wars, has built his own Magic the Gathering deck, used to spend weekends on Skype for DnD sessions with Uncle Eddie, and has even been to a convention or two.

Basically, none of his boys were the same.

You resented little Eliza coming up in conversation, only for the sake of her photos enticing some sick and cruel twist of fate.

Eliza, however, is the apple of everyone’s eye, and the darling of the Harrington family. She’s a handful, to say the least, a stubborn personality and even worse temperament. Steve swears he thought her toddler years were a handful; until she reached the independent thinking stage. Now, she wants everything, but she never wants help. Her three brothers are fiercely protective of her, each in their own ways, on top of having her dad, her uncle Eddie, and a few names that aren’t familiar to you (note: ask Eddie who ‘Hopper’ is), she’s got the world wrapped around her pinky.

Steve is at the end of a tale of chasing little Eliza around the mall, having slipped his grip in a quick getaway, creating havoc as she clutched a teddy bear that wasn’t paid for. He laughs fondly, describing how she evaded three security guards attempting to aid Steve in his mission, finally catching her when she was hungry enough to decide to end the chase.

You all sit with your food in front of you, chuckling at Steve’s well-told story. “Man,” Eddie starts, mouth still full. He waits until he swallows to continue, “I don’t know if I could have a toddler now. Especially if they’re as wild as Dylan was.”

“Hey!” Dylan calls, gesturing to himself. “I’m right here!”

“No offense, kid, but you were a menace. I looked away for two seconds once and found you on the roof with an umbrella to see if it would work as a parachute.”

“You remember what you told me?” Dylan challenges him, leaning onto his elbows on the table. “Hmm? You tell her what you told me.”

You perk up, leaning into Eddie. “Well, I came out and asked him what he was doing. He said he wanted to see if it worked.”

“And…you said?” Dylan asks, eager to get to the punchline.

“I told him to try it then and see how it works out for him!”

“So, I did!” Dylan exclaims, exasperated.

“What?” You exclaim, and the three men around you nod their heads solemnly, all having heard this story several times before.

“I didn’t know he was actually going to do it!” Eddie laughs, defending himself at your bug eyes aimed at him.

“You’re my dad, I trusted you had my best interests at heart!”

“How you didn’t know sarcasm before that is beyond me…” Eddie mutters, shaking his head fondly at his son. “That story was used against me several times in court, too.”

“They tried to make him out to be a terrible parent. I was pissed.” Dylan explains, and your heart melts over it. “I maintained that even though I had a cast for a few weeks, doesn’t mean I didn’t learn my lesson. Don’t jump off the roof. You will get hurt. That’s what my dad was telling me before he dared me.”

You intertwine your fingers with Eddie’s, smoothing his thumb with your own. There’s a nagging in the back of your mind as you recall his claims of being too old for a toddler, a slight disappointment. You shove it far, far back into your brain, not wanting to dissect that. “So, you staying the night, or?” You ask Steve.

“No thanks, Dylan has made it clear that you two are insatiable.” He says, toying with his food. “He has told me every story where he has caught you, even the ones you don’t know about.” He pauses, giving Eddie a resigned glance across the table. “Freaks. The both of you.”

Your phone buzzes on the table, and you reach for it momentarily to check out the text from Bethany. As your attention is stolen, Eddie mouths over you, Jealous? Steve spurts out a laugh, as if the idea is so absurd. Your head shoots up, Bethany’s text is fresh on your mind. “Baby, can…can I take a picture of your hand?”

“Uh, sure.” Eddie agrees, placing his hand out from your grip and onto the table. “What for?”

“For my Insta,” you answer, somewhat preoccupied by getting a good angle while making his hand intertwined with yours look natural.

“Oh, soft launch?” Dylan comments, and you snap your fingers in confirmation.

Eddie chuckles, all the words coming out of you and Dylan sounding like a different language. “What?”

“Okay, so it’s not just me!” Steve laughs, holding his chest dramatically. “Seriously, what are you two on about?”

Dylan answers before you can–  you’re still trying to get a good angle of his hand holding yours on the table. “It’s posting an update to your relationship status without giving a name to the person. It’s telling the world you’re taken, but not by who. Usually in case they break up, but I don’t think it’s why she’s doing it.”

“No, Eddie has no social media and I know…” you pause, leaning back to take one more, “that he wants to keep it that way, so, I’m showing him off in my own way.” You glare at your phone, swearing softly when it still doesn’t look right.

“For fucks’ sake, let me,” Dylan snatches your phone and gets up from the booth, squats and places the phone as if you were the one taking it yourself, snaps a photo, and tosses the phone back to you. “There.”

The phone falls past your hand and into your lap. You gently pick it up, assessing the photo in your recents. Damn. It was the exact vibe you were looking for. “Well, thanks.”

Dylan shoots an eye roll back, his heart not really in it.

“Let’s see?” Eddie asks, leaning into you, resting his chin against the strap of your dress on your shoulder. You’ve already captioned and posted the photo onto your Instagram, so you let him view the screen. He lets out a chuckle, a wide grin appearing on his face. “I like the photo, but what does the caption mean? Greater than what?”

Caption reads, ‘Him>’.

“Oh, it just means you’re ‘greater than’ everything else. There is no one thing to put because it would be useless.” You explain, turning your phone off and placing it face down on the table.

Eddie shifts the two of you so he can see your face, eyes switching between yours as he assesses you. You look up at him, curious to what could possibly be on that brain of his. “You think I’m greater than everything else?”

Of course you’ve seen it plastered on social media sites, somewhat of a common way to refer to your personal opinion of something. It’s so normalized, and you figured it was a simple way to announce that you were taken by the finest man you’ve ever seen in your entire life. You nod, “Of course!”

His hand frames your face and suddenly his lips are on yours. Your breath hitches in your throat as the kiss and the pure love you feel in his reaction makes you feel like you’d be knocked off your feet if you weren’t already sitting down. Your limbs catch up and one hand lands on his thigh, ignoring the subtle heat you feel pooling in your cunt.

Steve and Dylan are forgotten as you get caught up in a frenzy, lips locking with a level of need for one another that would give any other person envy over the display of passion. Dylan has gotten used to it, you two were in the habit of kissing one another like this often. Steve takes a large sip of his bourbon, leaning back in his booth and leaning right to him. “So, this—”

“Yeah, that’s normal.” Dylan tells him.

“Jesus, I thought you were exaggerating.” Steve pauses, moving his plate away from him, all done. “Thought he was exaggerating.”

“Exaggerating what?” Dylan asks, afraid of the answer.

Steve smirks, taking another sip of his drink. “Just drink your apple juice.” He nods to Dylan’s beer; Dylan shoves his shoulder fondly in response. Steve takes one last big swig of his drink, gesturing to the waitress across the room for her assistance. “Hey. You two. Take a breather.”

Your kisses haven’t gotten any more intense, though his hand placed gently on your thigh was a tease. You could make out with him for hours, knowing your limits in the restaurant booth. Eddie finally pulls back, kissing you delicately a few times on the lips as to not leave you hanging, leaving you reeling when the server stops by.

“Just the check, please.” Steve tells her, smug.

The waitress nods, grabbing plates when the four of you insist you’re all done with your food. Steve and Eddie end up telling a story from their early 20’s when they were both single, finishing each other’s sentences as they remind each other how unruly they were back then. Your eyes flick back and forth between them, something clicking.

“Hmm.” You muster, letting yourself think about it.

“Yes, baby?”

You zone back in, blinking as you realize the three of them are staring at you expectantly. You hadn’t even realized you hummed out loud. “Oh, nothing.” But he’s not budging. None of them are. “Seriously, it’s nothing.”

Still no dice.

You lean forward towards Dylan, who sits across from you, lowering your voice. “Do you want to be traumatized by your dad’s sex life?” He shakes his head, the smile leaving his face. You lean back, satisfied. “Then don’t worry about it.”

“For the record, I think you mean more traumatized.” Dylan mutters, just loud enough for you to hear. You kick his shin underneath the table, light enough to hurt but not do anything. You giggle at his reaction, leaning into Eddie’s arm as it snakes around your own.

Your phone buzzes, another text from Bethany. You smile as you check it, content in Eddie’s arms as the waitress comes around again with the bill. Steve hands her a card as he watches Eddie speak softly to you, nothing important, just something causing you to giggle. He feels confident in his own marriage, a love that gave him four kids with a stable home to drive back to. It just made him happy to see Eddie in a relationship where it’s clearly reciprocated.

As Eddie whispers to you, you can barely take in the words Bethany has texted you, but what she has to say to you is seemingly important, your phone buzzing repeatedly in your hands. You allow your eyes to focus back on them and the all-caps of her texts become clear.

CHECK YOUR INSTA

HELLO???

BABE

HELLO

GO CHECK IT YOUR POST ALREADY HAS OVER 500 LIKES

BITCH IT’S AT ONE THOUSAND

HELLLLOOOO

“Oh, shit.” You switch apps to make sure it’s true. In your notifications, there are over 300 comments and more likes than Bethany had claimed, 1.5 thousand. By no means is it viral, but most of your posts got no more than 100 due to your circle of friends in the app being so small. “Holy shit.” There are several comments praising Eddie’s hand, even some drool emojis. The only solace you can give yourself is that you now know you are never exposing his face. “Um, Ed. Your hand has gotten attention.”

He leans over, seeing the amount of engagement on your post. “Cool.” He comments, the numbers not meaning much to him.

“I could’ve told you that much.” Steve laughs.

You peer at him questioningly, silently asking what he meant by it.

“Listen, the ladies in Hawkins are…what is it…thirsty?” He checks with Dylan. Dylan chuckles and confirms it. “Yeah, okay, thirsty. They are mad thirsty over Eddie. If I accidentally mention that the Munsons are coming into town, it becomes town gossip. It’s like Billy Hargrove all over again, except this time it’s age appropriate.”

You turn back to Eddie, serious as you can be. “You’re never going back.”

 He laughs, wrapping his arms around you to bring you into a hug. “We’ll talk about it.”

-

As you walk towards the front door of the restaurant, the sun has set on another day. Eddie’s arm is wrapped around your shoulders, and Steve calls out to Eddie as he leads you to his truck, drawing your attentions. “Munson!”

Eddie turns around, the use of his last name certainly grabbing his attention. They quit using last names on one another years ago. The last time Eddie fully recalls being called Munson by Steve; Steve was pulling at his hair… “You rang, Harrington?”

“Can I steal your girlfriend for a drive?” He asks, sending a smile your way.

“Uh,” Eddie looks at you, making sure you’re comfortable with it. You nod your head, sharing a look with him. “Sure. Have her back within the hour, though.”

“Yes, sir.” Steve jokes, laughing to himself when Eddie subtly grits his teeth, and a pink blush reaches his cheeks. “C’mon, I don’t bite.”

You give your boyfriend a hug, embracing his kiss of safety and comfort. “Love you.” As you walk the steps toward Steve, Eddie tugs you back by your fingertips, one last kiss for good measure.

“Love you more.” He mutters, and for a second you believe him. Oh, to follow him into his truck and ride with him in a comfortable silence on the way back.

“Come on! One hour won’t kill you.” Steve grabs your hand before you can register, leading the way to his SUV.

Dylan passes you on the way to his dad, waving cheekily on the way and you flip him off.

You get into the dark blue SUV, a Range Rover, no less. It’s evident he has a four-year-old with the car seat and the mess in his back seat, but you know that if he didn’t have Eliza, the brown interior would’ve been spotless. Steve turns down the radio he had blasting, turning his iPhone connection on. “Ready for some oldies?”

“You and Eddie. Terrible, the both of you.” You mutter, shaking your head.

Steve laughs, pulling out of the parking lot and turning the opposite way of Eddie’s (yours too) house. “Don’t worry, just taking the long way.” He assures you after he sees you staring wistfully off at Eddie’s tail lights.

It’s about five minutes of silence until Steve talks again. “So, I just wanted to apologize about earlier, I was…I was shocked. When you opened the door, I didn’t know who you were, but I certainly wasn’t expecting the answer I got. Can you tell me your version of how you two got together? I didn’t want Eddie interjecting.”

“Oh.” You clear your throat. “Uh, Dylan forgot a parking pass on our way to the beach, so he stopped by the house to look for it. Eddie comes down, sweats low on his hips and hair still wet from his shower, and I could barely focus on anything else around me. I should’ve broken up with Dylan the moment I got to his truck.” You tell him, making sure Steve knows full well that you are still apologetic about the cheating.

“Oh sweetheart, that’s all fine and dandy. As far as Dylan is concerned, it hurt, but it’s long gone in his mind. Trust me. Any hesitation is aimed at Eddie, and for good reason.” Steve reassures you, feeling your defense build. “Don’t worry. Just tell the story.”

“Okay. I didn’t end it because I was afraid he’d lash out and it would’ve been forever before getting ahold of Eddie again. I couldn’t risk it, so I stayed. It lasted until that weekend, when I was doing horny things in the living room with Dylan just because Eddie was home. Maybe he’d hear something, maybe he’d look…maybe he’d watch…” You drift off, remembering the sheer urgency you had for him. “I wore skimpy outfits, I bent over around the house, I was fully prepared for Eddie, and to be honest, I was too hormonal to care or understand the repercussions.” You glance out the window, lights blinding you as you pass each neon sign. “So, we hooked up. After spending more time with him, I realized how much I had already cared about him. Now, Steve, now, I love that man so goddamn much.”

Steve smiles at you as he drives, his head waving with the bumps in the road. “Where do you see this going? For your future? In the long term, are you willing to accept that his body will give out a lot earlier than yours?”

 A knot forms in your stomach in the shape of a confession. You switch your glance to Steve, and you feel safe with him. Not like Eddie, no. It was like he would never tell your secrets, or like he’d protect you. “Uh, this evening, I had the terrifying displeasure of realizing one day I’d want kids with him. One day, after he marries me and tells the whole world who I belong to, I want to have his baby. I want to raise a baby into a handful of a toddler into a snarky teenager. I thought I was totally in the clear for kids with him, but you showed him the video of Eliza and now it’s…I can’t get rid of it. So, thanks for that, Steve.” Admitting to this, out loud even…it’s too much. “I want to spend my life with him.”

You wait for an answer, somewhat on edge as you fiddle with your fingers. “And you’re okay with the knowledge that you will bury him one day?” Steve pressures on, and you respect it.

“I’ve accepted the realities, yes, which is why I’m not telling him I want kids. He said he’s too tired. I can’t force that on him.”

A full belly laugh escapes Steve as he shakes his head. “If you told him that you want a baby, he would absolutely give you one without a moment’s hesitation. I have never seen him like this, not even with his ex.” He pauses, thinking on how to tell you. “Listen, I don’t know if you know much about her, but Eddie’s ex was not all that…kind to him.” He chooses his words carefully. “He was into her from the get-go, but it was obvious he was more into her. Eventually, when Eddie realized she was cheating, he called me, panicking about losing Dylan.

“I sent my best lawyer to him. Less than a week later they have court dates for custody hearings. Honestly, she was angry she was caught and angry she wasn’t the one to file. I think it took her being angry and belligerent in court for Eddie to finally see who she was. The judge was patient, more than she should’ve been. When she didn’t listen to the judge’s warnings, Eddie was granted everything he wanted. He thought it was a goddamn miracle, the only two things he wanted were the shop and Dylan. The shop had people’s livelihoods; it was their only income. Dylan just wanted to be with his dad, he made that very clear.

“Once the dust settled, it sank in. He called, finally, crying on the floor of the closet. He had spent all year on it just for her to only have it for a handful of months. It was a labour of love for him, and it turned out she was sleeping with someone else the entire time.”

Your teeth grit, fucking seething for Eddie. If either Eddie or Steve knew what was good for her, they’d never tell you her name.

“I came immediately, bringing Arlo and Nick to help cheer him up. Nick was only about 2, so he would’ve done more cheering in the way that toddlers do. But even Arlo knew something was up so it’s the one and only time he’s ever played DnD and fully embraced it. When Nick went to bed, the four of us all played together.” Steve observes your body language, your jaw locked and fists clenched. You’re so angry for him. He decides to omit the fact that after the kids went to bed, Eddie was inconsolable in his heartbreak. Steve knows it might come out one day, but that was not the point of this discussion.

“I promise, I didn’t tell you to make you mad, I just need you to know that Eddie will love you selflessly and wholly, because he doesn’t have it in himself to love any other way.” He slows to a stop at a red light, turning his head to face you. “I was very worried at first, but man, I couldn’t have been more wrong.”

The question still echoes in your mind, but the answer is starting to lean towards a yes. “How did you guys become friends?” You ask instead, leaning away from your boyfriend’s heartbreak and his bitchy ex.

“That… is a very long story.”

“Eddie gave you an hour, of which you’ve only used 15 minutes.” You point out, smirking.

“Alright, buckle up. It’s Hawkins, Indiana. 1996. Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson is missing.”

-

Steve was right, the story of their friendship was a long one. He didn’t necessarily dive into the nitty gritty, just implied he was falsely accused in a situation where he had no alibi and helped him out. One day, years later you would finally feel comfortable asking and Eddie would get into the full details of the Upside Down.

Steve brought you home with ten minutes to spare, you cling to Eddie as soon as you see him. The unresolved lust from earlier on top of the empathy for how hard it must’ve been for him drove your need for him, just you and him. “Can’t wait any longer.” You whisper, fingers digging into the now open button up shirt he wore to dinner and fisting the material into a ball with your hands.

You feel a huff of silent laughter come from him, a long sigh leaving his lips as he considers his options. It’s only 11 o’clock. Usually, when Steve is in town he stays for hours into the night to talk and laugh together. Dylan started a habit of joining their conversations as he got older. He knows it’s what they’re expecting, and he knows exactly what you need. He lifts your face with his hands. “Go get dressed into something more comfortable. Be right up.”

You nod, feeling sleepy, and for once, not conscious of the audience you held with him.

As you run upstairs, Eddie turns to Steve. “You and Dylan go to your hotel room. I’ll meet you there. Later.”

Steve’s eyebrows raise. “Didn’t you say you were exhausted?”

“I could just stay home all night. I have no problems with that.” Eddie bites back, a tone of endearment at the root of it.

Steve rolls his eyes. “Okay, okay. God, I miss when you were single,”

Dylan and Steve leave for the hotel room, the two shooting teasing glances at Eddie.

You lay on your side of the bed, scrolling on your phone but only paying the littlest attention. Eddie opens the door, his long legs take him to the bed quickly as he lies right next to you. You immediately crawl into his arms, the phone forgotten. Your chest feels tight as you mentally go over what Steve told you, the way his ex treated him. There’s no way it was true, because Eddie ever feeling like he deserved any of it was too much for you to bear.

Eddie feels the shift in you, something’s different. It isn’t one of your normal hugs. Your arms are wrapped around his, as if you’re sheltering him. “You okay, baby?” He asks, brows furrowed as he notes your quickened breathing and heart rate. You’re lying down; you should be far more relaxed.

“Steve…Steve told me more about your ex, and it made me sick to my stomach.” You admit, not wanting many secrets between the two of you. You’re already harbouring one, you don’t need another. “I don’t know how anyone could possibly treat you like that.”

Eddie’s eyes well and he looks up, trying not to let a tear fall from the tone of your voice or how genuine you sound in your anger for him. “It’s ancient history, now, baby.”

“Doesn’t make it right.” You counter, hands squeezing him. “I love you more than I can even conceive. More than I can wrap my head around… I can’t stand the thought of you being heartbroken because that bitch decided someone building her a closet wasn’t good enough for her.”

Eddie can’t wrap his mind around how loved you just made him feel, and how in your own way, you just told him he would be just as protected as you are by him. You would stand up for him the same way he would for you. He doesn’t have the words or the strength to hold back the tears, so he leans in and kisses you, really kisses you.  

As his lips meet yours, you taste the salt of his tears and lightly use your thumbs to brush them away. He climbs on top of you, brushing his hand under your PJ shirt, testing the waters. You guide his hand to your tit, aching for him to touch you for what felt like hours. Your kisses are slow and purposeful, the stream of the salt still coming, and you ignore it for the sake of his hand feeling so goddamn good on your nipple as he teases you. He doesn’t seem to want to talk about them, anyway. Your mouth opens against him as he flicks it, whimpering.

You wrap your legs around his hips, unwinding them from between his legs and his bulge presses into your covered heat immediately. You kiss down his jaw, gently decorating his neck with wet kisses as you kiss away the salt that streamed down his face. Your hand moves down to palm him through his slacks, a whimper leaving him. “Do…do you want to?” You check, slightly stroking him through his jeans.

He sniffles, bunching up your shirt to help it off. “Yes. Sorry, I can’t handle strong emotions, they…overwhelm me.”

“I’ll handle them for the both of us.” You offer.

Eddie is a mess already, and he tugs on you to kiss you some more. “I didn’t know I could love someone this much.” He mutters, gulping through his kisses.

You don’t answer him, grabbing at his shirt to take it off. As the shirt flies off, his chest comes full contact with yours and you arch your hips up to meet his, the bulge hitting your heat almost too perfectly. You grind on it, needing him now, wanting to feel all of him.

Eddie reads your mind, tearful but still in tune with everything your body needs from him. His hands move your pants down your legs, placing kisses down your torso as he does. He crawls back up to you, taking his own pants off as he continues to wantonly kiss you. Before you know it, you feel his cock against your thigh as he presses your legs into your stomach.

Eddie leans into you, connecting your foreheads. You frame his face, staring at his wet brown eyes. “Please baby.” You kiss him, your hips barely able to stay still. “I love you, I fucking need you.”

“I know.” He mumbles, nodding his head. He guides his cock into you, pushing in gently but deeply into you within seconds. Your legs tighten around his torso, your pussy sucking him in. “Christ.”

His face finds itself in your neck, giving sweet kisses up and down as he starts to move his hips. You hold onto him, hands wrapped around his torso, spread-out palms down on his back. His hips rock so slowly, taking in every inch of your pussy he possibly can. His forehead finds yours again and his eyes open and stare into yours. His mouth is parted, his cheeks are flushed, and no longer wet. Somewhere in the midst he stopped crying, but the emotions he felt were still there. “Feels good?”

You nod, breath hitching by the sheer emotion you see in his eyes. “So good, baby.”

He smiles softly, staring at you half lidded. “Don’t want it harder?” He teases, bucking his hips hard once before moving back to his soft pace.

The buck releases a loud cry of pleasure from you, not expecting it. “Fuck, Ed. Can you do that again?”

Eddie smiles wider. “Mmhm.” He bucks into you harder again a few times, and your eyes close immediately, the heat from your pussy starting to pool. “Oh my god, Eddie.”

“More?” He asks, slowing his hips again. “My love, if you want me to fuck you harder, you need to tell me.”

“Fuck me harder, Ed. Please.”

Eddie chuckles softly, stopping his movements altogether to give you a kiss, taking your breath away by the love in it. “Sure thing, baby.”

Before you know it, his hips start at an unforgiving pace, the force takes you aback so badly, you moan loudly at every buck, every rut of his hips against yours. His thumb connects to your neglected clit, and the subtle heat explodes into a frenzy. Eddie feels your velvet walls pulse around him as you get closer. “I wanna feel that perfect pussy cum all over my cock.”

“Eddie, so close…love you so much…” you’re seeing stars, your legs tense around him. He leans down to you, giving your torso one long lick down your tummy and, oddly enough, it was the final thing to drive you over the edge.

Your pussy tightening around him does it for Eddie, watching your face as your orgasm rips through you, filling you up with his cum, white ropes shooting into you. He collapses on your chest, the physical exhaustion from the day mixed with the added exhaustion from emotionally breaking down finally piling on him. “Sweetheart, I love you. So fucking much. I just…can’t believe how much better you’ve made my life.”

“I love you.” Your entire body wraps around him, holding him close to you. “Do you have to go?”

“Would you like to come with me?”

You nod your head, knowing full well you’ll probably fall asleep on the couch in Steve’s hotel room.

“Alright, let’s go.”

-

Eddie scratches his head while working on some paperwork in his work office, glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose as he goes through some numbers. One of the things he hates about owning a business is the math part of it. Luckily, he’s good at math, it’s just when the numbers suddenly go negative, it creates an issue.

His phone sitting on the desk starts to ring and he picks it up, expecting it to be you, but instead he’s met with an unknown number. Eddie sighs and reluctantly answers. It could be a customer with a new number for all he knows.

Wrong. Dead wrong.

“Eddie Munson speaking.” He answers, scanning over another invoice.

“Why the fuck are you dating a 25-year-old?” It occurs to Eddie this phone number has an area code from Boston…which is where she moved to. Fuck.

“Hi, Brooke.” He sighs, tired.

“Yeah, yeah. When and why the fuck are you dating some little hot piece of ass? You know she’s probably a gold digger, right? This morning she posted a selfie from my closet and it looks like she’s already moved in?”

“We met through a friend” Eddie wraps his head in his hands, wondering what the hell he ever saw in her craziness. “Wait, why am I telling you this, what fucking nerve do you have to call me and accuse my girlfriend being a gold digger?! How the fuck did you even find out?”

“Her little Instagram post with you two holding hands, which by the way, was cheesy and not in a good way. It got a lot of attention and Laura recognized your hands immediately and sent me the post.”

Fucking Laura. “Good for you, you found her Instagram.” He sighs, leaning back in his office chair. “I owe you nothing, Brooke. Nothing. I’m not sure what you had expected from this conversation but I’m sure this wasn’t it. Oh, and Brooke? That’s not your closet, hasn’t been for 15 years. Don’t call me again or I'll get my lawyer.”

“Oh, calm down.” Brooke huffs, her voice agitated. As if her voice had any other tone. Eddie hears her muffle the speaker to her phone. “Boys, quiet down for five minutes? I’m on the phone!” There’s another shuffle of noise on the other end, then her voice is directed back at Eddie, “That won’t be necessary. I just need to make sure you know that she will ruin your life because she’s a little skank.”

“Talk about my wife that way again and you’ll be hearing from a lot more than just my lawyer, you absolute cunt.” Eddie hangs up on her, missing the satisfaction of slamming a phone on the receiver. He picks his work phone up and slams it down. There, much better.

Wait until Steve hears about this… Holy shit.

Wait until you hear about it. Oh, fuck.

-

Steve manages to stretch his visit for one more day, laying on the couch with you as you watch a movie he recommended to you. He lays down with his torso on the arm rest, legs resting on your lap. When his legs landed, you glared at him, asking if he had nowhere else to place them. Steve said in response, “Of course, I do! You’ll just hold them because you’re so nice.”

So, you do. The movie is called The Gentlemen, a fast-paced comedy about a drug lord attempting to sell his business and all the shenanigans that follow. You find yourself laughing with him, expecting some movie like The Godfather or Fight Club, though it came out only four years ago.

Eddie swings open the door, rubbing his eyes tiredly with a smirk on his face. “Oh my god, Steve. Oh my god.” Eddie came straight from work, the phone call not allowing his brain to go over another invoice, especially when the numbers didn’t make sense. He struts to the couch, lifts Steve’s legs and sits right next to you, placing Steve’s legs back on his lap. He places his arm around you, looking at Steve with a smirk plastered. “Steve. Oh, my god.”

“Ed?” You ask, taking in his flustered features. Not flustered in the way you’re used to, but flustered nonetheless. “Everything okay?”

He nods his head, an incredulous laugh escaping as he does. “Oh, yeah. Totally okay. Got a phone call today.” You and Steve share a look of concern over his shoulder. “From Brooke.”

Now, this name means nothing to you. But from Steve’s reaction, in a split second you realize it’s the name of the woman you have grown to viscerally hate. “No way. What…what did she say?”

“She found Y/N’s Instagram post from last night and recognized my hand.” Eddie says, squeezing your shoulder. “She uh, then proceeded to insult me, insult her, and remind me how grateful I am she left me before I realized what a terrible person she is.”

“Anything else?” Steve asks, eyes wide. Brooke has literally been radio silent for years.

“Yeah, but nothing worth getting into.” Eddie comments, leaning into the couch, raising his eyebrows at Steve. Not something he wants to get into with you around, but definitely will with his best friend. “She sounded…jealous.”

“Jealous how?”

Eddie looks at you, twisting his body to face you. “Jealous of you. Out of line, absolutely, but jealous.”

The satisfaction that ripples through your body is simply too much. A woman took advantage of his kindness and left him for dead and now she’s jealous? Good. “Wait, she stalks my Instagram?”

“Uh, I suppose, yes.” Eddie answers, not so sure he understands the use of stalk.

“I could have some fun with this.” You mutter, thinking to yourself.

“Baby?” Eddie asks, slightly scared of the wicked smirk he sees displayed on your face.

“Hmm.” You mumble, opening your phone to your Pinterest app. “Yes?”

“What do you mean?” Eddie asks, talking low as he watches over your shoulder.

“Nothing. Just be ready for a picture when I need you.”

Eddie laughs, ready to calm you down a bit, but finds himself a little fearful of the plan in your mind.

You scroll through your Pinterest for about ten minutes while Steve and Eddie converse about the boys again. If you have learned one thing about Steve, it’s that his kids are his pride and joy. The conversation leads to Eliza, and you feel that pang in your stomach again. It’s getting harder to ignore as you watch Eddie’s face light up at the endless stories of the kids’ mischief.

Steve gets up from the couch, needing to use the bathroom. While he’s gone, you take advantage, finally having a moment to ask the question that’s been on your mind. “Hey, Ed.” You start, his head turning to face you, almost impossibly close.

“Yes, baby?”

Shit, his lips are so tempting. You sigh, ignoring the pull to his lips. “I just have a question, and please don’t be offended if the answer is no.”

Eddie huffs out a laugh, pleasantly surprised by your reaction to his ex-wife calling, so he’s certainly intrigued by what you’re about to say. “I make no promises.”

That’s not comforting. “Okay. Have you and Steve…did you guys ever hook up?” You ask, avoiding his eyes, which is impossible because they’re right there.  

Eddie breaks into a smile followed by incredibly contagious laughter. You were certain you must’ve been dead wrong based on his laughter alone. You’re just reading into things that aren’t there. He finally stops, grabbing your face for a smiley, giggly kiss. You pull back, looking at him in confusion, as he laughs again. “I should’ve known you’d figure it out.” He says, eyes searching yours.

Oh, fuck. You were right! “Wait.” You say while giggling. “I…I was right?”

“Yeah.”

“When?!”

Eddie squints comically, looking up. “Uh, 27 or so years ago in Vegas.”

You squint back at the sheer cliché of it all. “Vegas? Really?”

“Well, we were both down on our luck, we thought, very drunkenly, might I add, a trip to Vegas would help. It certainly did the trick, I think.”

You laugh, the situation described much differently than what you had expected. “I bet it did.” You boop him on the nose as he scrunches it adorably.

Steve comes out from the bathroom and sees your silly display of love, jogging to the couch. “You guys are cavity inducing. Seriously.”

“Steve.” Eddie says, turning his head to face him. “She figured it out.”

Steve smirks, silently asking Eddie if he was talking about what Steve thought he was talking about. “Hmm?”

“Mmhmm.”

“No shit! What gave it away?” Steve asks, genuinely curious as he attempts to extend his legs onto Eddie’s lap again.

“No offense, you guys, but you both act like you have a secret with one another that you won’t share with the class. There’re only so many secrets that could be.” You offer an answer, and they seem to accept it…for the most part.

“What, we don’t give off two very straight dudes?” Eddie jokes, making you shove his shoulder.

“See, Dylan’s great, but I’ve been dying to ask since last night, and I wasn’t gonna ask with him around.”

Eddie chuckles, leaning in for one last gentle kiss. When he separates, he clutches onto Steve’s leg, startling him. “Sorry,” he laughs through his apology. “I have to take a shower then I have one more errand to run, and I need your help before you take off tonight.”

“Sure, dude. What do you need?”

You go back on your phone, checking your Pinterest and mostly tuning out the conversation, looking for subtle ways to show Eddie off on your Instagram that will piss Brooke off. Eddie nods his head to indicate it isn’t a conversation to be had around you, and you don’t even notice.

Steve nods in understanding, fist bumping Eddie as he runs around the couch and up the stairs. The silence that settles around you while he’s upstairs is comfortable, Steve paying attention to the movie as the plot thickens while you scroll through your phone and gather devious ideas. You barely notice the ten minutes pass by as Eddie comes back downstairs. You clock the scent of his freshly showered self, causing you to look up.

Eddie is wearing a pair of jeans and a button up loosely tucked in with a chain necklace. You pick your jaw off the floor, gulping as he walks up to you with a smirk on his face as he witnesses your very visible reaction. He lays a chaste kiss on your forehead and taps on Steve’s leg.

Steve gets up from the couch and Eddie grabs his keys. “Be back soon, baby!”

“Could you get some pop?” You ask him as he opens the front door.

“Baby, we have so much to drink that’s not gonna rot those pretty teeth. It won’t kill you to drink water.” He says, stopping in the doorway. You roll your eyes, tempted to order in from a convenience store if he was gonna be this stubborn. “If there’s pop here when I get home, you’re gonna see a consequence.”

“Yes, daddy.” You bite back. Well, if you order one drink and place it in the bottom of the recycling, he won’t see it, right?

“Hey. Drink some water. I mean it. Take care of yourself, for Christ’ sake.” He yells, hearing your eyes roll. “Love you!”

Eddie shuts the door, reminding himself to check the recycling when he gets home.

“Daddy, huh?” Steve asks, poking fun as they get into his truck.

“Yeah, yeah, shut up.” Eddie rolls his eyes, shoving the keys into the ignition. His hands move to put the vehicle in reverse when something occurs to him. “Shit.”

“What?”

“Uh, give me a sec.” Eddie brings out his phone, going through the 15 contacts, scrolls right to Maya. He rings it.

“…Hello?” Maya answers, sounding understandably perplexed.

“Hi, Maya, how would one know what kind of ring to get without asking the person it’s for?” Steve’s brows rais, the errand being ring shopping is news to him.

“Well… it depends. Do you want to buy her a ring just because…or are you shopping for,” she pauses, slowly saying it. If she was wrong, it could set off an alarm, “…an engagement ring?”

“Yeah, an engagement ring.” Eddie admits, saying it out loud feels crazy to him. “How would one figure that out?”

“Give me five minutes.” She says, and abruptly hangs up the phone.

As Eddie stares at his phone in bewilderment, Steve leans into him. “Engagement ring, huh?”

“Won’t be asking her until at least another few months, if I can even wait that long. I said something on the phone with Brooke today. It just came out.” Eddie offers, his voice soft as he explains to Steve what’s been invading his mind for the last hour. “Brooke went a bit far on the insults. She called her a skank.”

“How classy.” Steve offers dryly, his face suggesting it was anything but.

“I got so mad. I’ve never been as mad at her as I was when those words left her mouth. I said if she ever called my wife a name again, I would be calling more than just my lawyer.” He quotes himself, letting the word sink into Steve’s skin.

“Oh shit.” Steve mutters, the weight of the word kicking in.

“Yeah, it slipped out, but calling her my wife felt so damn good I couldn’t help myself. I’m not getting any younger.” Eddie pauses before saying anything else, the next confession might be too much to say out loud yet.

“C’mon. If you can’t tell me, who can you tell?” Steve says, giving him some comfort.

“Her eyes when she looks at pictures of Eliza, or listens to stories about your boys, fuck I thought I never wanted another kid, but Jesus Christ, I need to see her face when she looks at one of ours.” Eddie admits out loud for the first time, the words scaring the shit out of him. Dylan in his 20s was exhausting. Could he handle another newborn? Another toddler? Another teenager?

Steve felt like he held all the power in knowing you two both wanted a kid. Feels like neither of you are ready to tell the other, so it’s a secret he’ll have to keep to himself for now. (If he’s strong enough.)

Eddie’s phone buzzes, a link appearing in a message from Maya. He opens it up and it directs him to your Pinterest page. Eddie wonders how Maya even found it. Your name isn’t connected to it. The link is specific to a board labeled Engagement Rings with a bunch of sparkle emojis surrounding it. Eddie looks at a few of them, screenshotting a handful to get the basic idea of what you’d want. He texts back Maya to thank her and puts his truck in reverse before Steve even knows what’s happening.

-

Eddie and Steve go through at least three jewelry stores before Eddie angers Steve at his indecisiveness. It isn’t that Eddie is indecisive, it’s that he’s hoping for a jeweler to look at the general vibe of your board and have the perfect ring to offer. Instead, Eddie’s met with vague indications of where he could look. These interactions all leave Eddie feeling frustrated as just walks out of the store for the next one only about ten feet away.

It takes Eddie a few tries until he finds the fairy godmother he’s been looking for, but finally he shows an engagement ring specialist the general aura of the rings you had saved, and she brings out four or five options that fall into the same category for Eddie to look at. Maybe Eddie could’ve been clearer with other stores of what he needed, but it felt as if they didn’t think he was going to buy one, anyway. Here, in this store, he feels like a respected customer, which goes a long way with him. In his shop, he spends his extra time making sure his men don’t treat any ladies like they know less just because they’re women. He hoped that even though he had a few faded tattoos and dressed alternatively, he’d be extended that same courtesy.

The helpful sales lady holds up each ring and explains to Eddie why she picked it in relevance to the photos you saved. Eddie sighs, each one in the right field, but not quite there. As she puts rings away to keep on looking, Eddie clutches onto the glass in frustration, feeling completely unprepared. Brooke basically gave him her ring and told him to propose when he had the balls. He wants you to love this ring, he wants to see it and know that it was made for you.

Maybe that’s too much to place on a ring. But for Eddie, just the simple prospect of searching for this ring means he has the hope that you will be his for the rest of his life.

Just when he’s ready to leave for the next store, she brings another one, a look on her face that tells Eddie she might’ve found exactly what he’s been looking for. She lays it out on a cloth, as Eddie marvels at it. It’s a thin, silver ring with four blue stones lined up along the band as the metal crosses over itself like vines. Eddie knows all of the jewelry you wear is silver, dainty, and has a few hints of blue. From the moment he sees it, he knows it’s the One.

Eddie holds it up for a few moments, circling it around in his hand. It takes all the self control in the world not to just head home and propose that night. He hands over a ring he took from the center console in your closet to the sales lady for your size. Within ten minutes, the papers are signed, the ring paid for, and Eddie walks out with a small white bag.

They get into the truck, the white bag small, yet significant as it sits in the back seat. “Well, that’s a step you’re taking.” Steve observes, carefully assessing his best friend’s emotional state.

“Mmhmm.” Eddie hums, staring at the bag in the rearview mirror. “And now, I’m fighting the urge to propose tonight.”

“Tonight?” Steve asks him, the speed of your relationship knocking him in the gut. “Let’s not scare her off. Plan a nice meal, set out a pretty dress on the bed for her. I bet she’d appreciate that.” Eddie considers this, knowing Steve is probably right.

So, now the ring sits in its box in the bottom of Eddie’s underwear drawer.

-

When Eddie and Steve get home, they find you on the couch napping while a movie neither of them has heard of plays on the TV, a bottle of nearly empty coke on the table next to it. Eddie sneaks upstairs to hide the evidence, the bag shoved into the bottom of a trash can, and the ring tucked safely away. When he comes back down, Steve is in the kitchen making himself a snack for the road while Eddie crouches in front of the couch to wake you up.

“Morning, baby.” He says in a low voice, petting your left cheek with his thumb.

Your breath hitches as you wake up, the last thing you remember is being giddy as you picked up your order from the front step with chips, candy, and a single bottle of pop. As you finished most of your snack, the movie started to matter less and less, a phenomenon that only occurs when you know that you’re about to pass out on the couch.

“There she is.” He mumbles as your eyes take in your surroundings. Him, the end of the movie you picked out, and the setting sun through the curtains. “Hi. I see we didn’t take my concern for the amount of pop you consume to heart?” He musters, gesturing to the side table.

You stretch, every muscle in your extended limbs feeling it. “You made it pretty clear it was for my teeth.” You mumble, unable to prevent a smile at Eddie’s floored reaction.

“I see.” He mutters, and the smirk on his face is enough to send a thrill of fear through you. “C’mon, Steve is about to leave town. Let’s go say our goodbyes.”

He tugs on your hands, lifting you up off the couch, guiding you to where Steve’s packing a recyclable grocery store bag with snacks he found around the kitchen. He comes out of the kitchen clutching the bag, his brown eyes shooting a fond look to the both of you. “Sorry, guys. Gotta get to the actual purpose of my trip eventually.”

You squint at him, pretending to consider forgiving him. “I suppose we’ll forgive you. If… you bring Eliza next time.”

“Another one bites the dust.” Steve mutters under his breath, chuckling. Eliza Harrington really has the whole world wrapped around her little pinky. (And oh, boy, does she know it.) He grabs onto your shoulder, pulling you in close for a hug. “Take care of him, will ya?”

You nod into his bicep, the soft spot he had gained for you over the last two days taking you by surprise and vice versa for him. “You know I will.”

Steve can’t resist the joke. “Oh, I know you do.”

You hit him playfully, feeling the heat creep up on your cheeks.

Steve and Eddie share an even longer hug, something about saying goodbye to old friends is always hard, you know that. As they separate, still clutching each other, Steve says something under his breath that makes Eddie hit him harshly. “Steve.”

“What?”

“Dude. Subtlety?”

Steve chuckles as he picks up his bag of goodies. “If you two are one thing, it ain’t subtle.”

You’re left questioning what could’ve possibly warranted the reaction that Eddie let out as Steve and Eddie do a few more rounds of farewell. It never seems to end as they keep bringing up new topics with each step Steve makes toward the door. It reminds you of your mom at the grocery store when you were eight.

The door finally slams, Steve yelling an "I love you" while Eddie shouts “Yeah right!” He brings out his phone soon after, sending I love you, too to Steve as a text. Well, Eddie is realizing that a next time is never guaranteed.  

The moment Steve’s SUV takes off, the low hum of the engine riding off to the end of the street, you turn back to the couch for a night in with Eddie. Alas, he has other plans. You lead him to the couch, holding his hand. Eddie tugs you back sharply, your limbs flailing as a result. “Woah, there, sweetheart.”

You give him a questioning look, wondering if you were just picturing his eyes darkening. “Hmm?”

“I asked you, very nicely, not to order pop. For one thing I think you drink too much of it, and for another there is water, juice, alcohol, even. Baby, I would just appreciate you taking my wishes into account.” His voice is serious, to a point that startles you. “So. As mentioned, there will be a consequence.”

“Like…like what?” You ask him, gulping as he traces his fingers along your collarbone so lightly you barely feel it.

He leans down, leaning into whisper, “Run.”

Your heart rate stutters as you turn away from him and run straight towards the basement, a place you know was once Dylan’s hangout spot, but now is just a dusty living room. Your feet trip over themselves as they run down the steps, pure panic and adrenaline coursing through your veins as you run to a guest room, hiding in the corner.

Upstairs, there are footsteps leading directly to the steps you just ran down. He fucking walks. He takes his time, step by step, and you can tell with each step as your heart rate picks up that he’s taunting you. He knows you’re in some corner somewhere, but he just doesn’t know which one. “Downstairs, huh? Didn’t see that coming.” Eddie admits, peering around each corner with his hands behind his back.

Fuck, you’re just a sitting duck here. You crawl up by the door, waiting patiently as he walks into the room right across from the one you’re hiding in. You make a quick run for the stairs, your breathing tight in your chest as you run, but for some reason, can’t recall why you’re running, you’re so fucking turned on right now. Your first few steps are loud and you curse out loud when suddenly Eddie’s feet are right behind yours, giggling with glee as you do.

Somehow, you make it up the steps and run straight to the kitchen, stopping at the island. He lands on the other side, his face hungry with want, his shirt untucked. There’s a wild look in his eye you can’t quite understand. You giggle as you attempt to go either way, realizing you’re stuck where you are.

“Oh, how is she gonna get out?” He taunts, watching you assess the situation.

Your instincts take over. You miraculously hop onto the island, using some sort of kicking method against the counter straight across and crawl into a dive for him, attacking his lips with yours. He accepts you without fail, wrapping his arms around you and kissing you back hungrily. You place kisses down his neck, focusing on the one spot on his collarbone you knew he loved when you sucked on it.

“Like that.” You answer him, starting to run straight towards your bedroom.

Laughter like music to Eddie’s ears leaves your mouth as you reach the top of the stairs, and he books it straight after you, not waiting another second to chase you to where he suspects is either the hallway or your closet. You’re crouched down in the hallway, hoping he’ll go straight to the bedroom. He doesn’t, seeing you as soon as he rounds the corner.

He fists your hair at the crown and you help as he lifts you to your feet. “Looks like I caught ya.” He hums, his face watching you closely. His hands let go of you and he moves to kiss you again, his tongue feeling a sort of rough it hasn’t before. “Holy shit.” He mutters, guiding you so you’re up against the wall.

You kiss him back, and for what felt like the first time, you didn’t spend an ounce thinking about it, just giving in. “Ed.” You whimper, the heat between your legs now begging you to provide friction.

“Hmm?” Eddie asks, his hands moving roughly up and down your body. “What, baby?”

“Ed. Please.” You beg him, lifting your leg so you can at least feel his boner peeking at your clothed cunt.

“Nuh uh.” He tuts, lightly pushing on the knee. Your leg falls down, as well as your face. “You don’t get off until I tell you to. So, unless I move your leg, or remove your shirt, you just let me kiss you and respond. Got it?”

You gulp, nodding your head. “Yes.” Eddie licks his lips, his eyes faltering for a fraction of a second. “Eddie?” You ask, making sure he’s okay.

Eddie loves that you can pick up on this, even as he gives you new rules and a new playground to explore. “Do you mind just…doing one thing for me? It kind of stuck with me since you moved in.”

“What?” You ask, your heat still aching, but for the sake of his sanity and for his good graces, you attempt to stand still. (You’re terrible at it.)

“Call me sir?”

You reflect on moving day, the men calling him the name that so obviously gave him a bad taste in his mouth. Apparently, when you commented on it, you made an impact. “Yes, sir.”

“Holy shit.” Eddie hisses, marveling at you now, staring up at him through your eyelashes, waiting to be told what to do. “Now, be a good girl and bend over against the wall.”

“Yes, sir.” You tell him, turning around against the wall.

“No, actually.” He says, taking you by the hand and taking you downstairs. He guides your hips so you’re right in front of the kitchen sink and he bends you over. “Much better.”

He moves your sweats and panties down only to the middle of your thighs, bending on his knees as he admires the slick that has already gathered. “So wet.” He murmurs. You whimper as he barely dips a finger into your entrance, gathering some slick on his finger. He lifts it up to your mouth, “Open.” You do so without hesitation, licking your tongue all over the three knuckles he places in your mouth, tasting your own arousal. Without warning, he takes his finger out from your mouth and wipes it on your shirt. You waited for the praise that never came.

“Oh, now brats get praise for doing what they’re told?” Eddie asks, knowing exactly what you’re thinking as he pulls down his pants.

“No, sir.” You mutter, now craving that praise even more.

“That’s what I thought. Now be a good girl and take this for me.” It’s the only warning you get before he slides his cock in. Your feet are practically planted right next to one another so you start to open your stance to allow him to go in deeper. “Ah.” You freeze in place, realizing your mistake.

He places his hand around your neck and brings it back to him, your neck extended feeling both incredibly uncomfortable and hot. “What did you do wrong?”

“Move without your say so.”

“Hmm?”

“Oh, move without your say so, sir.”

“Here. If you ask, and I say yes, or, if I tell you to. That’s it. Understood?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

Eddie smiles down at your blown pupils and half open mouth. He was afraid he jumped in too deep and threw you into the bathwater, but he could feel your pussy tighten around him. You’re so into this. He gently kisses your forehead and lets go of your neck. He slides his cock in even more, and keep in mind, he hasn’t even started to fuck you, yet. He’s barely halfway in your pussy and holds onto your hips as he sees you start to squirm. “You need something baby?”

“Could you move please, sir? Just a little bit? Need it so bad.”

“Should’ve thought of that sooner, then baby.” He musters, sounding bored, though he’s anything but. “Here.” Without warning, Eddie moves his fingers against your clit and has you teetering the edge in mere minutes. You’re so close, you can see the edge. It’s right there.

He stops. He slides in a bit more into you as his mouth gets close to your ear, his breath giving you goosebumps. “Consequence.” He grunts out, his grip on your hips bruising.

Your knuckles are white as you hold onto the edge of the sink like a vice. It’s like you can taste it. He doesn’t move another inch, his heartbeat against your back and the only audible sound coming from you is your panting in need. Eddie pushes in the rest of his length and a second beautiful sound is added to the mix, one he couldn’t get enough of, even if he tried. Why would he ever try? The sound of your pussy as you gush around him is perfect. “Taking me so well.” Eddie mumbles as he places both of his hands over yours on the sink.

The whimper that leaves your throat forces its way out, your body is tense from doing everything you can not to swivel your hips or back yourself into him. “Baby, you’re so tense.” His arms flex along yours, a shaky sigh leaving your mouth. “Why, hmm?”

“You…you said not to move unless you say so.” You tell him, frustrated because, of course, he knows.

“Or, unless you ask to.” Eddie adds, his chin resting on that spot on your shoulder. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask.”

“Sir, can I please move my hips?” You ask him, hoping he isn’t teasing you again.

“Of course, baby.” Eddie’s tone is sweet and endearing. What a goddamn liar he is.

The words are like music to your ears as you start to move your hips, testing the waters. When your movement isn’t met with any punishment, you start moving more frantically, fucking yourself on his cock. Eddie lets out a sigh of content, hands raking down your back to your hips, the palms rough against your bare ass. “Sir, can I please move my feet?”

“See? My good girl is catching on. Of course you can, baby.” He answers, a smile lacing his voice.

Giddily, you move your feet further apart. “Sir, please…please take my clothes off?” You ask, waistband restricting your legs. “Wanna feel you.”

Eddie’s hands move down the apples of your ass to the sweats that started moving down your legs from the impact of your ass that had just started bouncing on him. He kisses your clothed back as you step out of them, kicking the garment aside. You feel the cotton of your shirt move up your back, your arms lifting over your head to assist Eddie as he takes it off. His lips touch the bare skin of your back, his tongue sending ripples down your spine as you shiver under his touch. Eddie grunts as you continue to swivel your hips against him.

“Fuck.” Eddie grunts, watching your naked form wither against him. He can no longer fight the incessant need that’s grown while waiting for you to ask him for movement. His hips start mercilessly pounding into you without a hint of a warning. The moans that fall from your throat are uninhibited and radically full of relief. “Is this what you’ve been waiting for, baby?”

“Mmhmm.” You nod your head, curling over the sink as your arms give out.

Eddie slows down and takes himself out, and your hand moves to push yourself off the sink the littlest bit when you realize your mistake. “You can move.” Eddie smirks, noting your obedience. He’s still standing with his pants down to his calves and his shirt disheveled. He steps out from his pants, tossing the pair toward your pile of clothes. Then he goes down each button on his shirt, slowly exposing his chest to you. As his fingers move over each one, you eye his chest hungrily, aware he’s watching your face while you watch him.

The shirt falls down his arms with a slight flop as the material hits the floor. “Sir…” you gulp, the two of you staring at one another. “Sir, can I kiss you?”

Eddie smirks, nodding his head. You take the two steps toward him and your legs wrap around his hips as you hungrily kiss each other. He turns toward the kitchen island, a small yelp leaving your mouth as the cold granite counter hits the warm flesh of your ass cheeks. He guides his cock into you, slowly pushing into your heat, watching your face as your eyes roll back. “Feel good?”

You nod, a laugh escaping your lips.

“What’s so funny, hmm?” Eddie asks, using his mouth and tongue against your neck.

“Good? Your cock is perfect, Ed.”

“What happened to sir, baby?” He asks, yet continues to rut into you. Your face falters, realizing your mistake. He lets out a laugh, pitying you.

He places his fingertips on your clit, circling slowly, making the heat that’s pooled in your stomach hotter and larger than you could even conceive. “That…that feels so good, Ed.” You tell him, letting your head fall back.

“God, I love when your tight pussy just-” he inhales through his teeth, “sucks me in… Feels like heaven.”

You giggle, the end of it cut off by a particularly rough thrust. “Heaven?” You gasp out, Eddie starts to move his fingers faster and matches the pace with his hips.

“If Heaven isn’t fucking this tight pussy all day, then I don’t fucking want it.” Eddie gasps back, a growl forming under his breath.

“Ed, I’m gonna—” the feeling overwhelms you, the edge muting your senses as your orgasm ripples through your body.

Eddie moans as you tighten more around him, a fix he figured impossible. He still rotates on your clit, you release two sharp exhales, the heat too hot, too much. “Too much, Ed.”

“You can do it, baby. I could just edge you more.” He mutters.

You giggle, frightened at the goddamn prospect of it. “No, no, no.”

“No? Well then show me. Let’s feel that pussy make a mess all over my cock.” You came from the words alone, giggles intertwined through your moans. “Oh fuck, good girl,”

“I’m so close, baby.” He moans.

“Gonna fill me up?” You ask him, your legs tight around his hips as you bite at his collar bone.

“Keep doing that.” Eddie begs you, and you happily oblige. Every nip, bite and suck at his collarbone had him gasping over you, the chain of his necklace hanging between you two. Your hands go into his hair, pulling at him and you could probably have a third one at the rate he was going at.

No probably about it, but Eddie’s panting and you’re exhausted.

Even then.

He pushes you down as he cums, your back screaming with cold as it hits the island counter. Eddie collapses on top of you, and you breathe heavily together, both catching your breath. His mouth latches on your neck, kissing a trail to your lips. “Oh, I love you.”

You smile into his kiss, your noodle legs falling from his hips. “I love you.” You find yourself wrapped in his arms, the smell of sweat and sex invades the kitchen. His chest is covered in sweat and there’s nothing better.

“Join me for a shower?” He asks after you two have a moment of silence, his fingers single handedly causing a brigade of goosebumps down your side as they move in a whisper over your skin. His other hand is wrapped on your left hand, and you don’t realize he’s unconsciously rubbing at your ring finger.

“If I can walk.” You giggle.

Eddie chuckles, pulling himself out of you and giving you a sleepy half smile. “I could always…” He begins, and then he scoops you up over his shoulder to take you up the stairs. You protest for the first minute of it, but when the view is his toned ass as he walks up the stairs, you really couldn’t complain.

-

Thank you so much for reading! I love to read your comments, replies, and reblogs. As always, reblogging is the best way to support your fic writers on tumblr.

Taglist: @pinkcowracing @yourthebrokengirl @skrzydlak @thirddeadlysin @sammararaven @bebe07011 @prettylovley @josephquinncore @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you @names-were-taken

Taglist for Really Drives Me Mad: @yunnie-f1 @hollster88 @corrodedcoffincumslut @daisyridleyyyy @daniellabrandt @lail1010 @alicentswife @bl4ckt00thgr1n @ali-r3n @tlclick73 @vintagehellfire @hellfirefiend @kittydeadbones @luumunson @uncxmfxrtablex @eddiesgfffffffffff @hkurbsjundebi @eddies-puppet @joantje @novelnovella @shady-the-simp

(Okay the very idea that this many people wanted on the taglist is INSANE to me. If you want on it, just reply and I'll add you.)

[holylulusworld]

Big girls don't cry (2)

Summary: You are no stranger to heartbreak.

Pairing: CEO!Steve Rogers x Plussized!Reader

Warnings: angst, strong reader, mentions of former heartbreak, arguments, heartbreak, almost violence

Big girls don’t cry masterlist

<< Part 1

Steve’s whole world just exploded. His life lies in shambles because of one stupid mistake.

After he lied to his friends to make them shut up, he lost you. And now, the chairman of his company is yelling at him. But Steve doesn’t care.

He can only think of you, the only woman he ever truly loved. You didn’t answer his calls and sent the roses he ordered for you right back.

“I told you that I don’t want to use my girlfriend to get closer to Harlan Thrombey,” Steve yells back. “You pressured me into meeting her grandmother to charm her. Now my girlfriend hates me, and Harlan Thrombey will never agree to sell his company to you.”

“Mr. Rogers, must I remind you that your position and fate are in my hands?” Alexander Pierce sneers at Steve. He cannot employ someone weak who puts feelings first. “Do still want your job, or is some pussy more important to you? Did that chubby bitch cloud your mind—”

Alexander Pierce doesn’t know what hit him when he ends up on the ground. His nose was broken, and more so his pride.

“Fuck this job,” Steve looks down at Alexander, the man he used to admire. “I can’t do this job anymore. And I won’t. I hate my job, and I hate what you made me do. So many jobs…no not only jobs but lives ruined because of your greed. I’m out of this!”

Steve storms out of the office, cursing himself for ever wanting to follow in Pierce’s footsteps. He’s not the same man he was six months ago. No. You’ve changed his whole life for the better.

“I need to get her back,” he decides there and then to not give up until you are back in his arms.

“Babydoll, I know you are in there!” Steve rams his fist into your door. “Please, I fucked up big time. But I love you, Y/N. Please…I need you.”

“Eat shit,” you yell from inside your penthouse. He can rot in hell for what he did to you. “Get away from my door or I swear you will taste my baseball bat today.”

“I won’t go. If I must, I’ll camp outside your home. It’s cozy out here,” Steve tries to sound confident. “I got food, and sweets, and a soft blanket.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you open the door size Steve up. He looks like he hasn’t slept for days. His hair is a mess, and the suit he’s wearing has seen better days. “Get away from me and my home. There is nothing left to say.”

“I didn’t go out with you to get in your grandma’s good graces. I swear, until my boss brought it up, I didn’t know she was friends with Harlan Thrombey. I refused to use my relationship to get the deal.”

“You know, out of all the shitty guys I met in my life, you are the worst. At least the others had the guts to tell me that they only used me. They never spoke about love,” you huff when Steve dares to take one step toward you. 

“I love you, please,” he tries but you shove him away. “Y/N, it was stupid of me to say those things to get Bucky to leave. I swear on my mom’s grave, it’s not true. You mean the world to me.”

“If you don’t want me to break your dick with my baseball bat, you get out of my sight Rogers,” you point at his crotch. “It’s a nice dick, and it’d be a shame if he gets damaged because of the asshole carrying him between his legs.”

Steve would laugh about the way you talk about his cock. Sadly, you are dead serious about hurting him. “Please give me five minutes, baby doll.”

“The fuck no,” you shake your head. “I’ve got no time to waste on a man using me to make even more money. Where everyone has a heart, you’ve got a cold and rotten lump in your chest.”

“I quit my job.” Steve reaches out for you. “I never wanted to hurt you or use you. I swear this is all a misunderstanding. Bucky was nagging, and I wanted him to stop making fun of me for being in love.”

“You mean for being in love with the fat girl,” you snap at Steve. “I heard all of this before. You’re nice, and your face is pretty for a fat girl. If only you’d lose some weight we could be more than friends.”

“Whoa, baby! Where is this coming from?” Steve raises his hands in surrender. “Bucky is not that kind of guy, neither am I. I love you for yourself. Your size never mattered to me…or it does because damn, do you know how I love burying my face between your tits? You are perfect the way you are.”

How you wish Steve’s words were true. You know better than trusting a man with your heart. “No, I’m not. Not to you and the likes of you.” You shrug. “It’s fine. Not everyone can handle a woman like me. The difference is, you pretend to like, no love me, for a deal.”

“No-“ he sniffs. “Can we not talk, doll? Did you even listen? I quit my job and hit my boss for you.”

“Sure,” you sneer. “I want you to leave and never come back. If I see your face around here ever again, you will regret your birth.”

You slam the door in his face, locking it. No man breaks your heart and gets away with it. If he won’t leave you alone, you’ll make sure that he regrets messing with you…

>> Part 3

Tags in reblog.

[hobiespick]

Heya! I was wondering if you got any headcanons for Sam Winchester x werewolf! Reader, except, reader can actually turn whenever she (or gn if you want) wants, and the only real thing a full moon does is force her to be in her werewolf form (aka force her to keep the wolf teeth and claws out for no reason)

The thing that should not be

Pairings : Sam Winchester x reader

a/n : FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, HI, HELLO, IM SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG I SUCK SO BAD, IM SO SORRY. My requests aren't open (yet) but its not even your fault I should have 100% specified that, but this is my first ever ask and ur also one of my favourite moots and I didn't want to dissapoint so here are some fuckinf cute Sam x Werewolf!Reader. I felt the carnal need to write a metric fuckton of context before getting into the actual headcanons (which are very long I have no idea if they can be considered as hcs) so the reader gets beaten up by earth-shattering plot purposes :3. Sammy juicy headcanons start when you see the '🧿' emoji if you don't wanna read the context (melodramatic sigh). And yes the title of the fic is based on the metallica song :). as always, enjoy my shitty thoughts <3

Warnings: angst with comfort (no don't clap it's fine, omg ur makin me blush); guess who joined the cool kids club and uses "____." instead of "Y/n"; literally a flash of gore, shitty dad(s), fake death, mentions of suicide, Sam looks at you and goes DO YOU WANT M-; Dean being himself; reader is also a hunter and has been raised like that (fml); Dean makes a twillight refrence; reader is frankenstein coded in the most nuanced way, Mary Shelley please don't haunt me; Dean is very happy to have a bestfriend/sister :)

word count: 8,102

- Okay, so for starters, the fact that you aren't actually a monster (you don't get the urge to kill or wreak havoc) is actually a supernatural miracle.

Your parents haven't talked to you since you called them the night you were hunting a werewolf and told them, horror-struck between sniffles and voice cracks, that it bit you, and you’re going to turn, and you’re horrified, and you’re going to drive home to put a pistol in your father's hand and hopefully stop you from turning in the thing you shouldn't be.

Your father replied, after successfully not saying a word besides "Hey, kid-" before getting cut off by you and your hiccups. He sank his teeth into the inside of his cheek, enough to draw blood.

"You are not to come home; your mother won't bear to see you like this."

Your father objected before telling you you can finish the job by yourself; you always have.

He abruptly ended the phonecall like you weren't his daughter, more like an annoying salesman. You don't know what he'll say to your mother after that call; that was the hospital, and you tragically died? "Died a hero.." Your father would say when he described another hunter's tragic passing at the dinner table—paranormal tragic passing. So paranormal that your mother had knocked on wood and prayed it wouldn't get you or your family.

So you don't call, It's really me, dad. I'm fine, I figured it out by myself. How could you? after him suggesting it's better to kill yourself than take a shot at finding a solution together? You would rather have him believe you're dead. Or at least cry with you; it's okay, honey. come home; it'll be okay, spend the last days at home, please-

The last word you get from him is a text message you are too quick to open on your flip-phone to see the next day. When you rub at your eyebags after tracking down a witch, the witch. It was the second day when everything about you felt off; you were squemish, anxious, and haven't left your motel room all day. if you get this—the message read, "if you get this?!" if you get this, if you get this, if you get this—your brain repeats it over and over, taking the words apart and tattooing itself that phrase, because it held much more meaning to it than your father probably didn't intend; he would hear it if he read it before sending, you thought, that little 'if' haunting and tormenting like a damn demon. if you haven't already killed yourself; if you haven't already turned into something that took my daughter, my pride and joy, away from me; if you haven't already died–

- speaking to you like he's directly referring to the disease in your veins. Your brain moves on and reads the next ridiculous waste of your attention. I wanted you to know I told your mother that it was the hospital I was talking to yesterday, calling that you’re dead, house fire, so no remains to pick up—Damn, you know him or what? Even your fake death is stripped away from it's respect—"no remains to pick up"—like a toppled statue, a monument of what was once a hero (in dad's old-fashioned monster-hunting world), shattered and insignificant, no longer breathing or living, if you ever even had. Or a tree struck by lighting, again, "no remains to pick up" no meaningful remains or genuinely nothing, just a memory of another young hunter who died 'tragically'. You could imagine your tombstone with an even dumber epitaph to match it and an empty or nonexistent grave lying six feet underneath for closure. Your eyes move on, there will be a funeral with no grave, of course, I just wanted you to know that your mother and everyone else is devastated, we miss you, sugar. I love you, kid. Your father had overestimated your suicidal tendencies, and the way he didn't try to save his daughter in order to not go against the rules and possibilities of hunting only showed you how much he loves you.

So you track down the witch. You barely make it to her doorstep when she opens it with a too reassuring smile, saying your name and that she expected you, even going as far as offering you tea after opening the door and letting you in, to which you declined. You're not an idiot. But you do sit down, forced, when she, Willow Thorne, won't have you, a guest, standing up, a whole damn hunter being forced to sit down and accept being treated kindly like you deserve. When you walked in, the entire image of a satanic worshipper who sold her soul to demons and hexed everybody—that you betted all your life savings fitted the description of Willow shattered and laughed in your face.

Her home was filled with plants hanging and resting in every corner she could place; various crystals were sitting in cute porcelain plates like candy, candles of different colors on a bookshelf filled with books like The Language of Flowers, Astronomy for Beginners, and Sigils. Even more crystals, bigger and taller ones on a purple tablecloth. The house is adorned in shades of dark purple, violet, green, and warm colors. This home was a whimsigothic musem that would send your thirteen-year-old self into a shrieking, excited mess. Your parents never let you own crystals or a tarot deck; they were too afraid you'd turn darkside one way or another. well, mommy, daddy, if you could see me right now with lycanthrope blood pumping through my veins.

Willow Thorne is a wiccan type of witch; she does not receive her power from demons; she receives her magic from nature and probably practices her witchcraft the way she sees fit. This doesn't help build back the distrust you were trained to have in her. You flinch when you feel a tail curling around your bouncing leg; you glance down, and your eyes are met with a black cat's green ones—this must be her familiar—the little words on his purple collar reading 'Creek'. She gives you another flash of her warm smile and starts talking about her cat. This can't be real. Your every instinct screams that you should take her down or that she will take you down. Your options shrink the longer you stay. You keep a hand anxiously fiddling with your belt, thinking about the gun in your waistband. She's deceiving you with honeyed words and unassuming appearance; who the fuck knows, maybe the cat is manipulating you too. Throwing up would be the calmest reaction you could have right now, because the thoughts in your head started going at each other's throats and doubting in this situation could get you killed. Thoughts like, fuck her, her cozy house with purple witchy twitchy girl interior, and her affectionate black cat she mentioned she rescued when nobody would because of superstitions—you curse in your head, you're not actually upset at her although you do not let your guard down, you're upset at yourself for being so easily coaxed into trusting her, it's all too easy, and it is intimidating you.

You're pretty sure you're gonna rip your vocal cords out of frustration and an overall feeling of overwhelmingness; everything seems to piss you off today, even more than usual. How are you good?! All bright and beaming with nothing but positivity. You're not supposed to be good! I have believed all my life you aren't!..are you like me too? A thing that should not be? Before breaking down and crying about your situation, and if you did, she would make you that tea and rub your back with her hand that radiated ease and made you slump your shoulders with relief.

Before you get other fun thoughts like Am I on the wrong side of the war? You start discussing bussiness since you forgot that's what your here for. Even if your eyes water like a little kid after being scolded for something they didn't do, your voice is nowhere near close to sounding like one. You demand a cure, bargaining for a deal to stop the lycanthropy metamorphosis you feel taking over little by little and make you human again. If she can't, you have a gun with silver bullets in your trunk and your will written out, but by now it probably has no significance.

Much to your disappointment, she—Willow—insisted you called her, tells you she cannot take away your curse, but she can soothe it a little, keep it in a cage locked deep into your subconscious. In exchange, she could ask for fucking anything in the world, but she wants loyalty.

"Define, loyalty." You ask through gritted teeth, yeah, that will stop the tears, definitely, great intimidation skills, _____ .

"I'm talking about respect, mutual aid, when it all comes down for me, when I get threatened by a hunter, I want you to be there. I need you to have my back." She admitted, studying your eyes trying to reslove the conflict in them, anything that could give her hope. You couldn't explain this to anyone, ever, Yeah I almost turned into a werewolf once but my witch friend did a ritual on me, so i'm all good now.

Willow is now sitting on an ottoman facing her couch, where you're sitting. Her hands fidget with her bracelets until she clasps them together, and she is leaning towards you. Her gentle tone is imbued with gentle authority that commands her mutual respect without making her overbearing. Keeping steady eye contact, she is discussing serious matters with a serious tone like she should. You can't lie, it catches you off-guard, it herds you in the corner and softly shakes your shoulders, forcing you to listen.

You'd be every synonym in the dictionary for the word 'idiot' if you hadn't accepted this deal. You shake hands, and the warm smile she wears causes a domino effect, making you do the same, even if you had been crying.

It's a funky ritual. She makes you lay on the couch while she lights all sorts of candles; she closes the curtains even though it's already dark so light cannot come in. The only light present is the salt lamp in the far corner and the numeruous lighted candles. She even has to kick Creek out of the room, much to the cat's protests outside the door. They slowly come to a stop as he finds something that's more interesting than whatever ritual his owner is cooking up with a guest—that he feels drawn to for whatever reason. You feel nervous, and she feels nervous too, because you are. Willow reassures you and tells you that after it ends you will pass out for a while, but that's fine because she says you can spend the night if she isn't pushing it.

The celling becomes your newest fascination, and you study every small bump and gray spot in order to distract your mind from... well, thinking. Not for the ritual, but for reassurance, she lies and says you have to hold her hand. Her warm hand against yours seems to punch out of your lungs every doubt whether this will work or not and the sadness your father produced with an unfatherly amount of bluntness and cold parenting that was the verbal equivalent of stabbing your spine and twisting the knife, but you can't pull out the knife, well, you can try, but it will hurt even worse and it will infect spreading yellow or purple marks around it–. She—her hand—has the ability to make you breathe again without feeling like you have leg irons around your neck dragging it down and hands squashing your lungs to bits. She speaks incantations in what you know is latin and instructs you to close your eyes. You swear you hear a candle stop burning in the process—something you can't physically hear, but you had. You can make out a few words (your ears keep ringing and something is happening because you hear her voice; it's distorted and weird, but she told you, strictly, not to open your eyes, so you don't). Words like: lupus-wolf, tollere-take away? You're not sure on that one; that's what three straight days of crying might do to one, mutare- which means change. Okay, that was a nice distraction now what el–

You feel the imprint of a huge dog-like paw pressing into your Adam's apple and cutting off your breath. She obviously takes notice by the way you're writhing and choking and swatting away at nothing—something you're trying to fight even with closed eyes, but there is nothing there. Your palm doesn't make contact with anything. Quickly, Willow chants something you're too busy choking to catch. The pressure on your throat dissolves, and you can breathe again. She calms her own breath and squeezes your hand. When she doesn't feel you squeeze back, she remembers that you're supposed to pass out after the spell. Willow drapes a blanket on you and goes off to order something to eat. When she opens the living room door, Creek doesn't hesitate to run in and settle on your chest. The cat purrs as he patiently waits for you to wake up.

You wake up fifteen minutes later with the smell of food flooding your nostrils, stronger than it has ever been before. It's almost like it's sitting right under your nose. You open your eyes, and the smell has a color, and you can clearly see how it snakes its way in from the kitchen into the half-open door. Your nails feel heavier than usual. This is hopefully a fever dream. But the food isn't here, nor is Willow; you can hear her humming a song in the kitchen, Voodoo Chile by Jimi Hendrix.

The weight of the shadow on your chest brings you back to earth, and you run your hands through his black fur with closed eyes as your head falls back onto the couch. The feeling of fur on your fingertips feeding to your serotonin levels rising. Creek seems to know what it's like to be disowned by your own father and forced to have a fake death in order to 'die' in a way that won't make your mother think you were cursed, or worse, that the whole family is now. Creek notices you're awake and gets off you, but not before making biscuits.

"Thanks, Creek." You mumble before pushing yourself up in a sitting position with a groan.

You can feel the rich, velvety, dark green rug beneath your socks; you would have appreciated it properly if you could actually see the details woven into it. Your eyes keep focusing and unfocusing like they're getting adjusted, and the room doesn't seem so dark anymore. God, how long did you pass out? As you tried to gather your thoughts (if the spell was easy on you enough to actually leave some), memories of the ritual came flooding back—the chanting in latin, the flickering candle(s), the punching smell of herbs, the murder attempt from a wolf spirit/ghost?! who the hell knows anymore? Now you were wide awake, and everything felt different. If it weren't for the fucking ritual that was just performed on you, you would've blamed the faint ringing in your years, shitty eyesight, and banging headache on a terrible hangover or a cold so bad it would make your throat ache for the tea your mom would make you when your immune system failed you. She promised she would teach me how to make it. Your grief echoed to you.

You rub at your temples at thats when you notice why did your nails feel heavier than usual. You had fucking claws, well, not animal claws, but they are honorably elongated and sharper than they had ever been. As you looked up from your lap, your eyes fell on a mirror.

A tall mirror leaning on its back legs, with black edges and details on the rim, you would again appreciate if you had the ability to see a single thing in the distance.

Your eyes widened, mortified, seeing yourself. It looked like one of your parents's worst nightmares. Something out of a dream your mom would have—a nightmare so nasty and vivid she would be forced by her paranoia to get up and check that you're still in bed sleeping soundly.

Your eyes were no longer the familiar color you have seen in the mirror or in old photos of your family members you've grown to love. The shade wasn't even close to yours; crazy how one small change made such a big difference in your appearance. Your pupils were slitted vertically, shrinking only to dilate a little once again, getting adjusted. You slowly got up on foal legs and fell on your knees in front of the mirror. Even if you didn't think it was night because you weren't seeing darkness, the light of the moon shone down on the mirror and floor thanks to the now open curtains. That's when your vision stopped unfocusing and finally cleared.

You were now looking at yourself. It felt incredibly alien and familiar at the same time; you looked at yourself every day, whether it was the mirror in your bathroom at home, a crappy motel one that faced the bed (which you cover up with a scoff each time), or a reflection in the car of your vanity mirror checking yourself before going in a precinct, pretending to be a reporter (the things middle-aged pigs would confess to a doe-eyed girl from the press..).

You gently pulled the corner of your upper lip only to reveal your enlarged and sharpened front canines. Your hand fell and instead went to cover your mouth in order to muffle your sobs. You must have done a horrible job because the second you slapped the hand over your mouth, you heard Willlow gasp as if she felt it too.

She drops the food she was unpacking and runs in, taking a moment to calm her heaving chest in the doorway; her hands were holding it like an earthquake had shaked her up; even her round glasses had slipped and rested on the tip of her nose.

"_______, you woke up!" she exclaims cheerfully. "I was just—how do you fee-?"

She kept stuttering and cutting herself off. Willow didn't need to say anything else; she saw the tears welling up in your eyes and felt the same shock you did from the kitchen.

🧿🧿🧿- later on, you have to bump into the Winchesters one way or another

- and it's exactly on a full moon when this time the ball isn't in your court and you don't get to decide whether you turn or not.

- your claws are sharp, your eyes have changed their original color completely with your pupils vertically slit, and your teeth (conveniently) remain the same; only a few of your front canines are enlarged and sharpened.

- as for senses, it's downright spectacular.

- you can hear deer stepping on tree branches, foxes running, and owls hooting when you're driving by the forest

- you smell how many people are in a room

- you have night vision (yes, your eyes to the flashy thingamajiggy when someone blinds you with their flashlight).

- as a hunter, you already know that your claws and fangs can rip out a human heart.

- ironically, as this whole situation is, you hunt alone on the principle that you don't long for companionship as some lycanthropes do.

- you've turned into a literal killing machine with no instinct to kill, so hunting with others is off the table since at the first sign of a threat (they think you are one, but you really aren't), a hunter exterminates.

- you meet the Winchesters on a ghoul hunt

- you have taken the case before them, but when you couldn't get anywhere with identifying whatever evil being was tormenting the locals with their mere presence, you thought about ditching it since it doesn't look like your type of thing and took the consideration that maybe humans were fucking around this time.

- so when you heard the FBI are in town investigating the case (detective Page and Plant), you placed that town in your rear view mirror; they got it covered..right?

- but something didn't feel right- it wasn't the shame of leaving a case with your tail between your legs (pun intended) with the weak motive, 'Maybe humans are really fucking around this time.'

- something wasn't right, so even if you were tired, you abruptly stopped the car and went over your research spread out on the flat of your closed trunk

- the slits of your eyes dance over the words on your laptop, your papers, and an old lore book you fought tooth and nail for. When you realized it's a ghoul you're dealing with, you turned the car around and went over every speed limit like hellhounds were scratching at your tires. It was your job to not let anybody else get hurt or someone else's grave be violated

- as the light of the moon shined down on you and your wild eyes looked back at you from the rear view mirror, you knew you couldn't have anyone see you, you had to be invisible

- *time skip* (as much as it pains me 'cause i am a sucker for details :))- you swoop in time to save the Winchesters

- and if they weren't tied up, they would've started fighting you too, because why was there a whole ass werewolf fist fighting a ghoul?? John trained them like Spartan warriors, but nothing prepared them for something like this.

- so they sit there like:??????

- they watch you take out a fucking ghoul all by yourself

- the head of the ghoul's person they're impersonating rolls onto the floor. You have to remind yourself it's not a real person; it's an evil spirit who kills to feed

- by the time you wipe the blood off your face, smearing it a bit in the process, and cut the ties holding the hunters loose, Sam is unnable to look away from your slit eyes adorned by a strange color that strangely suits you

- literally hearts in his fawn brown eyes like you still don't have blood on your face and you aren't trying to catch your breath; also, you took a nasty punch to your cheek, and he's pretty sure it's gonna leave a bruise, but he totally doesn't care, why? why do you ask?

- by the way Sam is scrunitizing you, and oh yeah, Sam is scrunitizing you, you're sure you're gonna have to ditch since you've been in this situation before and you know how it always ends

- there was no 'explaining yourself' to hunters when they saw you under the full moon or when they saw you change because you had to.

Before you can even open your mouth they have their methaphorical pitchforks sharpened and torches lit up, prepared to slaughter you, and if you're honest, you can't even blame them for it because you would've done the same.

- Dean rubs his wrist with his right hand; the imprint of the rope is still fresh on his skin like a tattoo. Sam focuses on not choking when you catch him staring.

"Who the hell are you?" Dean thinks out loud. You take a big lungs-exploding sigh and give a shot at introducing yourself since they seem more civilized than most hunters are

- Sam geeks out about you

He doesn't question you because he is suspicious (he has the right to be but surprisingly isn't). He has to feed his noisy, information-hungry brain or he will spontaneously combust

- "Are your senses even more enhanced during the full moon, or are they the same?"

- "Can you smell when somebody is afraid? Like the hormones from their pores?"

- "Is it annoying to always have super hearing? Like has it ever caused you to be..I don't know.. Anxious? It did?" He mourns over you, trying to imagine himself in your situation but possibly can't.

- "I'm really sorry you had to go through a whole..change all by yourself, but it just shows how strong you are, some don't even make it 'til the end."

- After you were done explaining to Sam (to which he gladly sat himself down and listened) how sometimes you genuinely consider you're inevitably going to become what you hunt and how in the beginning you and your senses have butted heads, how you had no idea how to go through it without having panic attacks because the click of a doorknob was sensitive to your hearing like a veteran was scared of fireworks, how you accidentally ripped a motel door off its hinges, a result of you being slightly irritated, still getting acoustumed to your abilities. Dean would go.

"..Do dog whistles work on y–" Before getting an elbow in the ribs by a glaring Sam.

- more shit Dean would ask you for the sake of his own little curiosity

- "Is 'bitch' even more offensive now?"

- "Who do you think would win in a fight? You or Jacob Black?"

- "What do I smell like? Y'know, since you can pick up on scents and alldat."

- Dean calls you Cujo

- It's the one nickname you can get behind, asking him what he thought about the book, and he's like, "Oh, I watched the movie, but i know a little. Sammy used to rattle on and on about his books when he was younger."

- if you think about it, an alais doesn't sound so bad in theory or practice while hunting.

- it's secretive, the boys don't need to divulge your real name, and it's actually high-key kickass (I literally watched Cujo just so I know what I'm talking about, a.k.a. the second reason why it took a millenium and a half for me to post these; the first reason is that i suck)

- Dean is thrilled to get to call you that- he gets this fucking smirk, like a dad about to drop the worst joke ever made on everyone, you and Sam brace yourselves for what's coming with matching eyerolls-

"Let's fuck em' up, Cujo."

- "Cujo, dude, you're just itching to raise a little hell right now, aren't you?"

- "Uh- a bacon cheeseburger, soda, yo, Cujo whaddya want? My treat >:]."

- "Cujo, put on that song you were listening to; I had it in my head the entire hunt." (I didn't mention the genre or artist bc I like to imagine Dean listening to everyone's fav category; ex. I imagine Dean screaming bikini kill lyrics whenever i'm sad)

- if you thought the 'canine/wolf' teasing stopped here, you're so painfully wrong

- Dean made you a mixtape, because that's his love language apparently, with only songs that are about werewolves

- I feel like it took him a longer time to find a suitable title than the songs themselves

- he has all of the possible picks on a piece of paper that stays in the pocket of his fifty pound leather jacket.

- the titles are: Songs to transform into; The howlin' hits; Songs that will make you wag your tail—that one is crossed out because he knows you will make him eat the tape if he does settle on it; Love at first bite; and finally the one he settled for is Songs you can sink your teeth into. Dean smiled at his work, it didn't feel like a prank anymore it was more like a gift and he didn't feel any ugly emotion or insecurity try to pull him back into not getting attached to you.

The final touch was a note saying

"Hey, Cujo, thought you might want these howlin' hits whenever you need to tune the world out.

P.S. : Sam told me to add one of the songs, it's that punk stuff you like - Dean"

- The songs he prudently picked out are these : Of Wolf and Man by Metallica; Bark at the Moon by Ozzy Osbourne; I Was A Teenage Werewolf by The Cramps; Wolf Moon by Type O Negative; Witch Wolf by STYX; Run with the Wolf by Rainbow; Lycanthropy by G.B.H and others.

- you accidentally made a kid cry once- a ball was literally flying towards you and you caught it just in time, thanks to your reflexes

- instinctively, you turned around in time and caught the ball as your claws grew and sank into the inanimate object

- it's all "Nice relfexes, _____" praise from Dean and proud and shy smiles from Sam until the owner of the ball starts sobbing in front of you

- it's a kid, a boy with red hair, no older than six years of age

- but we all know Dean's charm is basically made for this

- so he handles both the kid and his mom (flirting with a milf all day, poor Dean)

- you keep apologizing to the kid and the mom, but Dean just waves you off; you don't understand his generosity until Sam tells you that you accidentally secured Dean's hookup for tonight.

- Since Dean is not coming, not until early morning, nor is he there to call you and Sam 'dorks', you and his younger brother take advantage of it.

- you guys have a movie night with the most random movies ever

- it is chaotic

- from rom-coms you switch to a world war II documentary, then you watch re-runs of House MD on tv.

- Dean stumbles in at like five something a.m. and takes a picture of you and Sam snuggling under a blanket while the tv light casts shadows of orange and cold colors on your defenseless expressions.

- but can somebody actually blame you? Or Sam, for that matter?

- honorably want to mention your body heat is also enhanced

- You and Sam were sitting with your sides pressed into each other

- you were radiating pure furnace body heat, how could he not be sleepy??

- but that's not the only reason Sam knocks out so heavily

- it's you he's sitting down with (relaxing for once in his life) watching a ridiculous episode of House with thirteen ads rolling every ten minutes accompanied by lazy talking as if you're not debating books only you and morally grey forty-year-olds read (where that Kansas drawl of his is much more audible and pretty), after a marathon of fatally random movies

- younger Sam who had trouble going to sleep/getting some shut-eye because Dean and John are out late on a hunt.

- Sam especially couldn't fall asleep because Dean wasn't there

- it was a different story when Dean was at the age where he couldn't hunt but he could use a pistol and take care of his little brother

- both of them in a relatively warm motel room, alone (since John fucked off to god-knows-where, to hunt a monster they are never to breathe in the direction of as a conversation subject.)

- little Sammy (age where he believed nothing could beat his older brother) could peacefully fall asleep knowing Dean stays up and watches over him like a hawke, reading comic books by the tv light

- where little Dean keeps chanting in his head what Sammy is supposed to do after eating his dinner.

- Watch tv or look at the comic with me (Sammy can't read yet), brush his teeth, then tuck him in bed.

- now pre-teen Sam can hardly sleep

- he is plagued/tormented by flashing images his overthinking big brain mades of a thousand situations where his family got hurt, if not even killed

- Sam's grip on the shotgun is shaking; it shakes even harder when John's bark booms over his shoulder, right into his ear.

- "Sammy, dammit, what are you going to do when a demon breaks through the door and me and your brother aren't there to protect you?!"

- but Sam isn't twelve anymore

- he's a responsible adult

- snuggled beside you and denying any eepy allegations you decide to accuse him of

- so, the heat you contribute, the soft speaking on the tv, the darkness of the room, you being there is enough to lull Sam to sleep

- studies show you feel sleepy around the people you trust ;)

- the position you two fell asleep in cannot be described in any other word than childish

- somehow you would catch two kids, sleeping over at one of the other's houses, knocked out, and snoring in the same bed after watching a horror movie

- on one of the two queens the motel room contributes (the one closest to the tv) you and Sam have made this fluffy nest full of pillows, a huge blanket, plus a random quilt Bobby pulled out of thin air and gave it to you when he heard you complaining about the petal-thin blankets motels have during cold ass weather.

- When you both lied down on the bed with your legs greedily streched out, backs pressed against the headboard, and your head is resting on the wall while Sam, magically, was still able to hold his up after the very long day all of you endured. You predicted one of you wouldn't survive being in each other's presence and make it out not asleep, and god, you hoped it was you.

- Sam's breathing slows down after a while of comfortable silence, and you’re sure he's dying until you spare one quick glance and see him, downright snoozing with his lips parted without a care in the world, ghosts and eerie phenomenons weren't bothering or needing him now.

- during all of the movies and documentary and fuckin lazy intellectual commentary nobody else would have the patience to discuss with you or Sam, he somehow migrated on the bed/nest with his side flush against yours, like a magnet to another; it was inevitable not to stick together, literally.

- your shoulder was now pressed into his forearm, your head no longer resting uncomfortably, and his temple is resting on the top of your head.

- but (unfortunately) you weren't hugging or anything- like a mirror or a copycat, Sam has his arms crossed, just like you, so maybe that's why you didn't wake up full on cuddling, that does sound good though your brain mourns

- When you do wake up, the only slight change you notice is that you're sleeping on your side..so is Sam. You're facing Sam's neck and chin, and up close and personal, you can actually count the too-sexy amount of moles he modestly posesses. His arm serves the role of a pillow underneath his head, and the other is resting with his palm down facing the mattress.

- with Sam taking up the entire attention of your senses, it takes an emmbarassing while for you to hear the shower running, Dean; did he see you both like this? Was he going to mention it? Your gut fills with a small dose of embarrassement, preparing you for what's yet to come, and it protests at that.

- much displeasure from your senses to your brain and your heart that wanted to breathe Sam in more as he (hopefully) breathes you out, you turn on your other side, unconsciously careful not to disturb Clifford over here, and you try to determine what time it is from your surroundings alone.

- the light blue sneaking its way through the dark closed curtains and the slight chill in the air points all arrows to seven or eight in the morning, you could go back to sleep.

- Dean wasn't just feeling gracious; he didn't and wasn't even planning on sparing you or Sam

- that day, when he separately gets the both of you alone, he has the exact same conversation with different but not so different people.

-"You should've seen the two of you this morning when I came in, two kittens snoring together, it was fuckin' adorable." Dean teased–

—Monday, 13:34 p.m. — as he tossed his clothes into one of the laundromat's washing machines, making Sam paralyze in his seat as his fingers started fidgeting with the edges of his hoodie.

"You did?.." He inquires, not knowing what exactly Dean saw just this morning. Sam only woke up a little after you went back to sleep. He swore his cheek must have burned a hole through the pillow with how hard he was blushing. You were so close. There was a good distance between the edge of the bed and you. So your back was flush against his chest. If you're wondering where his arm went, it was around your waist. Sam—your own personal seatbelt. He probably thinks it's his fault too. Dean never ceased to describe Sam as a 'cuddlebug'.

"Uh-huh" Dean hums a confirmation, acting casual, scarily casual. Sam feels the teasing in Dean's tone; it's there, but Dean is not fully teasing yet, like he wants Sam to confess something first after boiling in his embarrassement for long enough.

—Monday, 20:02 p.m. — as he pulled the Impala into the driveway of a fast-food place you were so invested in you even forgot the name of; you froze and looked at him, searching for any emotion that might give him away, but Dean was a brick wall, a slight very Dean siginificant parted lips smirk paired with squinted eyes over the wheel, carefully driving into the driveway. Even the car seemed to betray you in your moment of weakness because you swear the volume is lower than it was a few seconds ago. Ozzy Osbourne's laugh can still be heard from the speakers, even if it's barely audible over your racing thoughts or your hearing trying its hardest to pick up on Dean's thoughts. The rythym of the drums seems to sync up with your heartbeat, or the other way around, you're not sure. Over every little sound, there still seems to be a little silence to fit in. You swallow a lump in your throat.

"..We had a movie night, we just fell asleep like that, that's all." You mumble, and Dean starts to feel a little bad for letting you be a victim to his spotlight-teasing and giving you no shade to reprieve to or show his undying approval.

Somehow, you still worry if Dean believes you have ruined the dynamic, and now he's cornering you to tell you to stop it or something (overthinking anxiety worms are eating away at your critical thinking skills). You just worry about what he thinks of this. You still worry about the Dean who doesn't correct random people on cases who mistake you and Sam for a couple; the Dean who just has to leave some arsenal or luggage in the front, just so you are forced to share the backseat with Sam; the Dean who always has to group you and Sam in a category when he teases you both (Geeks, nerds, smartasses, etc.). Cupid works hard, but Dean Winchester works harder.

"Hey-, Cuj- Doll." Dean sputters, switching glances between you and the wheel.

This didn't go as he planned it would, and now he is facing the consequences. The way you shrink in your seat and the way you avoid catching his eye makes Dean feel like a douchebag. If he didn't know any better he would thinks he is, but then you would actually be able to read him like a book and tell him otherwise. You hear the desperation in his voice; your candle of hope comes back to life and lights up. Your head turns to look at him with pleading eyes. Please don't be angry, please don't kick me to the curb, let me stay in the backseat a little more. Dean lets out a shaky exhale that turns into a laugh; he runs a hand down his face. You've watched him do that every time he got jumpscared by the monthly spirit with unfinished business. It was something you imagined Dean picked up from John, the picture in your head so clear (at least from the pictures you saw)— a tired dad in an old squeaky motel chair with a whiskey glass in his hand doing the same motion Dean was doing right now. Dean would mimic his father's gestures to try to look more like him; he didn't have his brunette curly hair, his dark brown eyes, Sam did.

Dean never had his voice either; he only perfected his bark to match his dad's. Sam hated the way his reflection resembled his father, Dean was either jealous of him for it or couldn't wrap his head around as to why his brother hated being their dad, probably the latter. Dad, at least in Dean's eyes, was a hero, a figure to be admired and emulated. But Sam? He didn't even have to try. Sam and John were so alike that they clashed constantly like two stubborn stags locking antlers in a duel.

"..Dean?" You call him out; you had no idea what was going on in his head; it would be pretty damn nice if you could know. Dean shots his head up at the mention of his name.

"Yeah?—sorry, I just, you and Sam are just so—" He sighs. "it's about time you two crazy kids broke that touch barrier." He guffaws, slowly pulling up to the ordering kiosk.

A new song starts playing on Dean's "hot summa' nights driving" mixtape, Emmit Remmus by The Red Hot Chili Peppers, he added it when Sam said that's one of his favorites.

- do I need to talk about how much of an immense help you have been on hunts?

- you don't need to help out on every hunt despite Sam's disappointment and Dean's kid-like joy to have their friend help them out who is a professional/werewolf/hunter/geek, who kind of gets his references?? But you are geniunely so good it's funny to have the boys call you up and be like "..so we need help". They're happy you'll show up but there is still that lick of shame that taunts the Winchesters whenever they are forced to call for aid.

- this one time, you wanted to hug them after not seeing them for two weeks, and when you went to attack Sam, you heard his bones crack.

- your strength still surprises you and knocks other people off their feet

- it was so loud (atleast for you), you were sure you broke something

- Sam did nothing but give you his (killer) dimply smile and reassure you didn't do anything (even if he slightly grunted); while Dean whined like a kid saying (lying) he doesn't want a hug (you coaxed him into it eventually)

- Sam feels like he's not allowed to call you by your nickname, like he fears it's Dean's thing and not his

- so when he finally puts on his big boy pants, he's like, "Uhh–Cujo- 🧍‍♂️so get this.."

- all red and shy, trying to act casual, as if he doesn't wonder about the reaction you might have if he calls you other nicknames, like honey, sweetheart, even baby, or if he had the excuse to hold your hand, how would you hold it? Fingers interlocked or palms flat?

- Sam would also love to just marvel at your slit eyes; if he could he would take a picture and put it in his wallet; don't get me wrong if he had one where you were normal, he would cherish it just as much.

- Sam thinks your nickname is actually really cool (probably because it's a Stephen King reference, nerd), and you take that as a compliment. Sam is hard to entertain or please by his brother's antics.

- But he prefers saying your name

- there's something so intimate about the syllables rolling off his tongue so easily

- "_____, Are you okay? What is it? The soundproof earmuffs? I'll go get them." When everything, and I mean when every sound is just too much.

- Sam got them for you; he couldn't handle seeing you wince one more time whenever a car with a bad engine would pass by the motel (during a stressful hunt); its tires squealing under the concrete, making a faint sound for the boys, but for you so much louder.

- you know how pathethic it is to be affected by such small things when you're blessed with such powers? How can you call yourself a hunter when decibels, frequencies, and fucking tire squeals make you their bitch? You wish you could train yourself in a way that would make you less sensitive to certain sounds. It just adds to the reasons why hunters have the excuse or classify you as "the frail one" not only because you're a girl. When you used to hunt with your dad and sometimes mom, the amount of dog-shit comments from other hunters who had sons, were nothing but mysogynistic, curlish, and ruthless. "Are you sure the riffle isn't too heavy?", "Does she even know how to kill this thing?", "She's going to drag us down, do you want us to die?"— the type of comments that would make your dad shoot daggers into them, defend you "She's a goddamn ______, what do you think?", and whisper into your ear "Show em' what you're made of." and you would (stubbornly) listen to his advice to the damn letter after you almost mouthed them off.

Your dad believed in "Actions are sometimes louder than words." and all that adult crap, you were not as zen.

Your mom actually encouraged the sarcasm you have replied with in the past. The funniest memory your mother can recall is a story she tells at every gathering and every chance she gets to everyone, she praised you like crazy. When another hunter's son had the nerve to fuck with a twelve-year-old you. "Aren't you afraid of breaking a nail out there?" The boy sneered, puffing out his chest like a peacock. You stared at him with pure disbelief. "The only way I'm breaking a nail tonight is by kicking your ass, you cocky brainless jerk." You spat back, your mother and father were there and so was the boy's father; the gravity of the situation was on your shoulders, and their stares felt even heavier in comparison; intimidating him was 100% on the table. You felt like everyone had the same exact thought occuring them, an unspoken demand passed everyone there, even you: Do something. And you did. Your mother's jaw went slack; she doubled over, gripping whatever surface was near her and she started to chortle, with her shoulders shaking like never before. Your father was holding in a chuckle while massaging the bridge of his nose.

- Sam has to disagree with you whenever you complain about how your senses make you look or about the way you underestimate yourself. "What?! You can't be serious. _____, It doesn't mean you're weak. In fact, it makes you even more interesting. Everyone has an Achilles heel; yours is stronger because you're an amazing hunter who figured a way out. It makes you even stronger, I have no idea how you deal with this crap! Dean and I would've gone insane if we were in your shoes for more than a day."

- he is also forcing back his infamous (spectacular) bitchface

- he doesn't 'hold back' actually

- he geniunely cannot glare at you, not when you're like this. He can make a few exceptions, like when you join in Dean's teasing/joking (the silly rambunctious energy Dean carries around had, unfortunately, contiminated you or awakened yours)

- or when you start teasing Sam yourself, he shoots you a glare that classifies as nothing but hot (in your book at least), the kind of Sam glare that makes you flush knowing he doesn't mean it at all.

- Dean making you those fake ass I.D's like "Joan Jett", "Stevie Nicks", "Kathleen Hanna" and when you asked him to make more subtle ones he was like, bet. "Kelly Hammer", "Diana Bowie", "Laura Ulrich".

a/n: I wanted to apologize again for taking so long and for the unnecessary amount of context that literally nobody asked for. Uhh yeah and feedback would be very much appreciated<3, sava out *mic drop*

[starburts-addict]

Never Again

Pairing: Yandere!Vil x afab!Reader

CW: Pregnancy ment., Dead beat Vil, implied accusations of tampering with pretoection, kidnapping, parents being shitty and disowning their pregnant kid, heavily implications of some actually tampering with protection, just not talked about, Reader is not Yuu, not proof read, drugging(?) But it's just Vil using a handkerchief he cast a curse on beforehand

NOTES:

[S/N] = Son's Name

[Y/HC] = Your hair color

[Y/N] = Your name

Honestly this was based off a dream sorta, so it's probably shitty and ooc. It was a late night writing practice tbh.

This wasn't supposed to happen. Not at all. It is your graduation day and right now you're panicking in the bathroom. Two weeks ago, you and Vil decided to spend a night with each other to destress. You both even went extra lengths to make sure nothing would arise from that night. Now here you were, having a breakdown over the fact you were pregnant with his child. He would never let this slide. You can't keep it from him though. After the ceremony was done with, you approached Vil and asked to talk to him in private. You told him about your pregnancy to which he scoffed at and said that he wanted to do nothing with that thing. He called the baby a thing. A thing! You held back tears. You didn't really have any strong emotions towards Vil, he was your friend, you thought he would at least help. He wanted nothing to do with you and the baby. Even accused you of having to do something with it. You both argued, but in the end you stormed off crying.

It's been eight years. You gave birth to a beautiful baby boy. With Vil's eye color, but with [y/hc] hair. When you initially told your parents, they left you at the ceremony. You ended up not telling anyone and you didn't have any means to get back to your hometown. What did you end up doing? Staying at Sage Isle. You started to work at two jobs, one at a restaurant and another at the local library. You did everything you could do to ensure [S/N] had a good life. You didn't need any help from Vil. You were both happy and at some point, you met a guy named Leo who lived In the isle. He moved for school and he was back a year after you had graduated as he had stayed an extra year for a longer education. He helped you out for seven years and in the fifth, you both ended up falling for each other and started to date. 

It may not be perfect, but it was perfect to you. This life was perfect. Even with all the blemishes it has. You would do nothing to change anything… So why did everything have to take a turn for the worse? You heard Vil was shooting part of a movie in the Isle. You avoided him. You made sure you avoided any setting he was at. You made sure that Vil didn't see you at all so as to not upset him, you and especially [S/N]. One day, Leo and your son were shopping for groceries for your shared home. Leo had to step away to answer a call from wor, and you were keeping your son entertained until you heard your name being called out by a familiar voice you'd hope to never hear in person again. Your fear raised as turned to see Vil. Your expression was fearful for a split second before you had to keep a straight face.

“Hello Schoenheit.” You said to him nonchalantly. “What are you doing here?” Vil asked coldly. All your fear washed away and was replaced by rage, but you kept it hidden. “I live here, I'm shopping with my kid and partner.” “Aren't you supposed to be in [H/C]?” He doesn’t know, nor do you care if he did or not, but  you did if [S/N] knew. You turned to him and smiled. “Go with Leo, I'll be there.” You said, hesitantly he followed your request and you turned to face the man who practically shared the blame of ruining your life. “If you must know, they disowned me. If you're here to mock me, you're better off leaving me alone. Especially since you constantly have paparazzi. You wouldn't want to ruin your reputation would you?” Vil sneered and came close to you. “It's better if we talk in private then. Meet me at the docks at ten at night.” You rolled your eyes as he walked away. You wouldn't end up going.

How foolish were you?! It's almost ten and you ended up going to the docks. You told Leo beforehand as he took care of [S/N]. You both were hesitant about this decision, but you ended up arriving like an idiot. “You did arrive.” You turned to see Vil with a smirk. “Wipe that off your face. What do you want? I want to get this over with.” Vil approached you and came closer. “I did some investigation… I know you aren't happy, let me propose this. Let's get married. Don't you want a good life for [S/N]?” He said. Your blood boiled as he put a hand on your shoulder. You swatted it as he finished speaking. “Don't you fucking speak to me as if you care. You know nothing about me. I am very happy with my life. If anything I'll be happier than you ever will be.” You both argued for a long while before in the heat of the moment, Vil couldn't keep the facade up he held. “You aren't supposed to be happy! You're supposed to be sad and come running to me!” He yelled. You were confused was an understatement. “What's that supposed to mean Schoenheit?” 

There you go again referring to him as his last name. He hated that, but he had spilled a piece of information he wasn't supposed to. He was furious at himself, but he can't dwell on that. “I rejected [S/N] so you could depend on me. I wanted you to know you needed me. You weren't supposed to have a good life. I was supposed to rescue you. Leo came into your life and ruined everything.” You were pissed off by this revelation. It can't be true he's bullshitting. “Stop fucking around Vil.” “I'm not messing around my dear. I never forgot about you nor my son. I love you [Y/N].” You were pissed off. He isn't telling you the truth, or at least the full truth. You were lost in your thoughts and anger that you failed to realize Vil getting closer. You snapped out of it as soon as you felt his arms wrap around your waist as he covered your mouth. With a cloth. It wasn't chloroform. He used something completely different. You passed out almost immediately. “We'll live happily as intended… just the three of us…” Those were the last words you heard before your consciousness slipped away. 

You will live as intended, happily with him. 

[brooooswriting]

sam carpenter x reader (already established) where reader defends sam from people that believe in the rumors. maybe at sam’s job?

thank youuu

Bartender and murderer

Sam Carpenter x reader

You loved visiting Sam at her job, the bar she worked at was quite nice, the drinks were good and she looked incredible hot while mixing drinks. On slow days she’d stay by your side as long as she could and you’d talk about your days and other stuff, if it was full you were fine with just watching her. Sometimes you were annoyed by the other costumers, some were rude to her for things that weren’t even her fault. It was hard for you to just sit there at those moments but she could handle herself, you knew that. Others would flirt with her the whole time, also not your prime time. You’d sit in your chair and sulk until she walked by so you could pull her towards you and kiss her in front of them.

But today was different, Sam had a bad day, you knew that. She woke up with a headache, Tara was mad at her for no reason because she didn’t get enough sleep, her coworker called in sick which resulted in her having to work a double shift. It was shitty, you were supposed to go on a date tonight. Which made her mood even worse. But you decided to visit her anyway, it might not be the best date but any time spend with her was good enough for you.

It was busy today so you sat at the end of the bar and watched her working, waiting for her break so you could finally comfort the stressed girl. There were two girls starring at her the whole time which annoyed you deeply. It wasn’t new that people started at her she was hot and you were obviously not the only one who thought so. When Sam walked around the bar, waters in hand and nodded towards the door you quickly stood up and followed her outside the front door. She was leaning against the brick wall, waiting for you to arrive.

“Hello pretty girl” she grinned as her arms wrapped around your waist to pull you closer, her lips pressing soft kisses to your lips. Your hand rested against the side of her neck, your thumb stroking the side of her jaw. She parted and gave you one of the waters, knowing that drinking alcohol dehydrated you. You were about to say something when her coworker showed up at the door.

“Sorry to interrupt Sam but the boss wants you back inside” his voice was apologetic and he was quick to disappear to give you your privacy back. You stood up on your tippy toes to press another kiss to her lips before you parted from her. “Let’s go back inside. I don’t want your cute ass to get fired” you laughed and walked away. She was on your tail, laughing about what you said before overtaking you to open the door for you.

By the time you got back your seat at the bar was taken so you settled for a booth in the corner next to the two girls who had been starring your girlfriend down. They didn’t seem to notice you settle down directly behind them as they just kept taking.

“I can’t believe that they are letting a murder work here in a bar, together with drunk people” one of them said causing you to freeze. Your eyes focused on the girls as if you could kill them with your look, but you decided to wait it out. They haven’t said her name yet and maybe, just maybe, they were talking about someone else.

“Yeah, I mean she killed her boyfriend and about 7 other people. That’s crazy. She’s crazy! She should have stayed in woodsboro, New York is already unsafe enough” The other spoke up, leaving no room for you to think that they were walking about someone else. Your blood boiled and you were about to stand up when the girl whose back was to you started talking again.

“I know. The poor girl she just went out with. I bet she’s dead, she probably intoxicated her with the drinks here and then bam. She killed her, I wouldn’t be surprised” that was enough for you. You stood up nearly throwing over the table and walked over to the booth beside you. You were furious, you just saw red which wasn’t typical for you but very much understandable right now.

“I’m the girl she went out with and I’m neither intoxicated nor dead. And I would appreciate it if you didn’t say stupid shit like that about my girlfriend” you told them as nice as you could. This took up all your self control. You were starring them down, one of them was slowly sinking into her seat while the other one flared back.

“Then you’re not even a small tad better than that murder” she said while standing up and throwing a drink at you which made you gasp. You had seen it happen to Sam quiet often lately but it has never happened to you. The anger was radiating off of you, everybody close enough could feel it. And even tough you were about 10 centimeters smaller than her, way less muscular and slimmer, nobody could hold you back.

You took all your knowledge about football and all your experience in American football together and tackled her to the ground. Due to the moment of surprise, it was easy to overpower her. You sat on her hips, holding her down while one fist connected with the side of her face. She screamed, probably more in surprise than anything else but she screamed nonetheless which gave you a bit of satisfaction.

“You crazy bitch” she screamed back trying to get out of your grip but the adrenaline made you stronger than you normally were. A crowd had already formed around you which distracted you for a moment, it gave her the opportunity to roll you two over. She was quick to deliver a punch to your gut and your face, looking all smug about it. The anger you felt seemed to give you superpowers as you turned the whole thing again but this time you held her arms up with both of your hands.

“Do you know that you’re ruining her life? There are four people who witnessed everything! They all said that she wasn’t ghostface and that she defended them! She had to fight against somebody she fucking loved and people like you are reminding her of that. Every. Fucking. Day. Do you get how fucked up that is?! You are sitting here letting her serve you while you accuse her of murdering not just the people in woodsborrow but me too?” Your hand squeezed her wrists tighter and tighter with each sentence. You looked up to see the one on the bench look down in shame which you counted as a win.

“Fuck you” the girl grunted as soon as you stood up. Before you could even react her fist connected with your cheekbone, you could immediately feel the swelling. “And fuck your psycho girlfriend” she added, you knew she was just trying to fuel you on and it worked like a charm.

You got one or two good blows too before someone finally stepped in. You could feel her nose breaking under your fist which made you cringe, you weren’t the biggest fan of violence. The girl whose been sitting in the booth the whole time was pulling her friend away, the look she gave you was full of sympathy and it was apologetic. But in that moment you didn’t care, you just wanted to make the girl regret what she said about your girl.

Sams coworker stepped in before you could charge at the girl again. He put his hand on your shoulder, hoping it would calm you down. Which it didn’t. You were about to get away when a tall figure suddenly appeared in front of you and threw you over it’s shoulder, it was Sam no doubt. She carried you outside where she put you down again. It was silent for a second.

“What the fuck y/n? What were you doing there?” Sam asked, carrying anger herself. You grumbled some words while kicking some stones around like a five year old who didn’t get what he wanted. It annoyed Sam even more that you were acting like a child, her eyes rolling as she watched you acting like that. She waited nonetheless, she knew you’d open up eventually.

“They were starring at you” you finally said with a huff.

“Y/n, we talked about this. I’m sorry you’re jealous but you can’t-“ she started annoyed that you’d act like this because of your jealousy.

“No Sam! They were starring at you, talking about how you’re the murder of woodsboro! They said that you intoxicated me and tried to murder me. God Sam, they implied that you’d take advantage of me” you explained, pacing up and down the street. A habit you developed when you didn’t know how to deal with your emotions. “I knew that it’s not the 19th century anymore and I don’t have to defend my girls honor but I’m not letting anybody treat you like that. I couldn’t let them spread rumors like that, I already hate the fact that these other rumors exist” you continued.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t know” she mumbled, hating the fact that her past was the reason you get into fights.

“Don’t” you walked closer to her, your hand carefully finding her cheek, “don’t do this to yourself! You’re a great person who’d do anything to protect her family” you told her and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek.

“I love you” her voice was soft and loving while her hands slid under your shirt and pulled you closer, her skin warming yours. “I love you too” you mumbled and pressed a kiss to her lips before parting.

“I’ll call Chad so he can pick me up okay? You work your shift and then come home so we can have the rest of our date” you pressed another kiss to her lips, she hummed and pulled you even closer. When your lips parted you took a moment to stay in each others arms.

When you parted you texted Chad to pick you up, Sam didn’t want you walking alone at night. When he arrived he quickly said hi to Sam before turning to you. “What happened to your hand?” He asked at some point, suddenly coming to a halt.

“I got into a fight because two girl called Sam a murder” you said nonchalantly, your shoulders shrugging which made Chad grin. “Nice” he only added and gave you a high five before continuing the walk.

[themorningsunshine]

Pretense

(Requested)

Masterlist

Pairing - Bucky Barnes x f!reader , platonic Avengers x reader

Summary - You have been with orverprotective parents your whole life, and it never bothered you as much. You know they mean well. Until they spew lies in front of your friends and ruin everything for you, including your chance at love.

Warnings - shitty parents, angst, fluff, misunderstandings, a lot of crying, slight language. not proofread 

Word count - 7k (I need to be stopped) 

a/n - This was requested by the lovely @caritobbg​​. I thought it would be a short one shot but it instead turned out to be the longest fic I have ever written. I tried to do the idea justice, hope you lile it, girl. 

"Yeah, dad. I am at the tower."

"What do you mean why? I live AND work here."

"Yeah, I am taking care of myself, mom." "No, they don't fight each other all the time."

"No, Tony hasn't filled the tower with deadly robots." "No, Steve doesn't conduct history lessons here."

You sighed as your parents asked you for the 10th time this week if you were being kept hostage at the Avengers compound.

Your dad spoke from the other side of the phone. "You know we worry about you, princess. We just don't trust those superheroes."

You smiled a little at the nickname your dad had always called you since you were a little girl. "Yeah, dad, I understand that you worry about me but they are my friends and I trust them. I really wish you could trust them too."

Your parents had always been a little too protective of you. Being an only child, you were the object of their affection more often than not. It had never bothered you as much. You know they meant well.

But it had gotten much worse now. About a year ago, Tony Stark himself offered you a job to work with the avengers considering your skills and obviously, you said yes. It was an opportunity of a lifetime and you had found a family in the team too.

You hadn't told your parents about your new job for 6 months because you were afraid of their reaction. As you had anticipated, they didn't take their little girl working for superheroes very well.

Okay, that was an understatement. Your parents didn't trust the Avengers and they surely didn't trust them enough to be able to protect you. They took any chance they got to convince you to leave the job. All you wanted was for both of your families to get along. Maybe it was too much to ask for.

"Dad, we are friends. We look out for each other. We have each others' backs. Give them a chance, please. Why can't you try to trust them?"

"Hmm. Let me see. Your 'friends' consist of ex-assassins, a witch who used to work for Hydra, a "genius" and his scientist friend who created a robot that wanted to kill the whole of humanity. Oh, and the scientist also has huge anger issues. Like he literally turns into a monster when he is angry. Your best friend has killed more people than she can count. And this group of yours almost broke up once when the best friend of one killed the parents of another. Oh, and that soldier of yours has also reportedly killed a president. You are right. What's there to not trust?"

"Dad, he was brainwashed!!"

"Doesn't make him any less unstable."

You sighed. These arguments with your parents were a dead end. You knew you weren't going to get anywhere.

"Alright, mom, dad. I gotta go."

"Okay, sweetheart. Just take care of yourself. At least until we come to meet you next month."

You smiled at that. "Can't wait. I want to introduce you to everybody. Love you, guys. See you soon, Bye"

"We love you too, princess."

Your smile dropped as you hung up the phone and realization struck you. Your parents were going to visit and as much as you wanted them to meet everybody, you were scared. You could never be sure about how your parents would react. They were too unpredictable.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn't hear footsteps approaching.

"You okay, doll?"

The voice startled you as you turned back to be met by the beautiful blue of Bucky's eyes. You kept a hand on your chest to calm your breathing. "God, you scared me, Buck."

Bucky just chuckled as he looked at you, eyes filled with concern. "Well, maybe you should be careful who sneaks up on you, doll. This is not really the safest place on Earth."

"The only person who sneaks up on me is you, Bucky." You replied with a smile of your own, as you felt your concerns slipping away.

"Exactly my point. I am not really the most trustworthy person either."

"Then why do I trust you with my life?" The words slipped before you could think about how they would sound. Your cheeks turn little red as you look down at your feet. "You are too good for your own good," Bucky replied with a slight blush of his own and he meant it with everything he had. You were too pure and too trusting for this world. He would never know how he got to even call you his friend.

His eyes squinted as he noticed something. "Doll, there's something in your hair."

Before you could react, he took a step towards you and with gentle hands removed a piece of confetti out of your hair.

You ran your hands through your hair before looking up to thank him when you realized how close the both of you were standing. You were pretty sure he could hear how fast your heart was beating.

The both of you stood there staring into each other's eyes until Bucky took a step back, red color creeping up to his cheeks. He rubbed his neck, flustered, before finally speaking, "Um, I should - I should go."

You nodded your head, trying desperately to get your heart to beat normally. "Yeah, yeah. I'll see you around."

As Bucky walked away, you couldn't wipe off the smile from your face when suddenly your conversation with your parents hit you again.

God, it was going to be a long month.

✧༝┉˚*❋ ❋*˚┉༝✧✧༝┉˚*❋ ❋*˚┉༝✧✧༝┉˚*❋ ❋*˚┉༝✧✧༝┉˚*❋ ❋*˚┉༝✧✧༝┉˚

"And if you need anything, you can also ask Jarvis." You explained to your parents with the widest grin on your face.

"God, I can't believe you guys are finally here."

Your parents smiled at you before your mom engulfed you in a hug, 7th in the past 1 hour.

"Okay, guys. You know I love you both so much, but we are going to go in now and meet everybody. Can you please, please be nice?"

Your mom put her hand on her chest with a dramatic expression, "You don't trust us?"

You chuckled at how dramatic your mother could sometimes be. "I do, You know I do. But I also know as a matter of fact that both of you aren't very fond of my friends. And all I am asking is that you give them a chance. They are great people, mom. They are really really great and I care a lot about all of them. So, I just need you to be a little open-minded about them. That's all I am asking. Can you do that for me?" "Of course, we will, princess. We hate these inept superheroes but not as much as we love you."

Your parents then looked at each other a too long, which you didn't think much of, too excited at the prospect of your parents and friends getting along.

You took them inside the compound as they looked around in what you hoped was awe.

"Good morning, J.A.R.V.I.S" You greeted the AI just like you did every day.

"Good morning, Ms l/n"

Your parents looked around in shock trying to figure out where that voice came from when you chuckled. "Mom, dad, I told you, you need anything, just ask J.A.R.V.I.S"

Your dad narrowed his eyes at you. "Where is this JARVIS of yours?"

You giggled before replying, "Everywhere and nowhere." Troubling your parents never got old.

"Stop putting forward riddles, we are not in a fantasy adventure movie." Your mom complained.

"Sorry. Sorry Mom, dad, meet J.A.R.V.I.S. He is an AI that operates the whole tower, literally. If you want to know anything, just ask him. Tony created him. That man is such a genius."

Your dad almost rolled his eyes. "Why couldn't he just hire a human to work for him, just like normal people do?"

You sighed, just hoping that the day goes smoothly.

You couldn't be more wrong.

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"And this room is the briefing room." You opened the door to let your parents in but they just looked around from the doorway.

You had just started showing your parents around the compound, readying yourself for the inevitable. The whole team was pretty excited about meeting your parents and you knew sooner than later that someone will run into you.

The inevitable happened as soon as you stepped into the dining room.

Tony was standing there, getting his morning cup of coffee and his face told you he hadn't slept very well last night. Ever since he picked up the mission to update the compound's security system last month, he had hardly been sleeping. You were worried about him.

"Tony?" You said in a soft voice so as to not startle him.

"Oh, hey, kiddo. Awake a little too early today?" He said with a tired smile on his face, taking a jab at the fact that you were definitely not a morning person.

"Are you okay, Tony?"

"Hmm, yeah. Totally." He then looked at your parents who were standing beside you with a scowl on their faces. "Won't you introduce us?"

"Oh, right." A wide grin spread on your face as you turned towards your parents. "Mom, dad. This is Tony. Kind of the co-leader of the group. Tony, these are my parents."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr and Mrs l/n. You have a great daughter."

Your cheeks turned red until your parents began speaking.

"So, he is the guy who has his head so up his arse that he doesn't care about anyone besides himself?" Your dad with a scowl on his face.

You gasped as Tony's eyes widened. "Dad, what are you talking about?"

"He is Stark, right? That's what you said about him after the first day you worked here."

Your eyes widened as your mouth fell open. What was happening? You hadn't even told your parents about your job for the first 6 months. Why were they -

Your eyes frantically searched for Tony's and you felt a slight pain in your chest when you saw how hard he was trying to feign the hurt in his eyes. You needed to set this right. "Tony - "

"Oh, and could you please stop annoying our daughter with all the science and tech talk? That stuff bores the shit out of her." Your mother interrupted you before you could even say anything.

You looked at Tony, desperately trying to explain to him that it wasn't true. You had told your parents how much you loved listening to Tony rambling about his latest creation. You loved how passionate he was about his work. You couldn't imagine your parents using that against you like this.

Before you could say something, Tony spoke, "Oh, I am sorry, I didn't know me talking about what essentially pays your salary irritated you so much." He said with a snarl in his voice that he had never used with you before. Even though the both of you weren't that apart in age, he was like a dad to you and you would never hurt him.

"Tony, it's not what you think." You said, desperately asking him to give you a chance to explain yourself when some more people walked through the door.

You watched as Nat and Wanda entered the kitchen, engrossed in their talk, smiling when they see you.

"Heya, girl"

You internally panic. You didn't know what your parents were up to but this couldn't be nice. You just wanted to take them away from here.

Tony speaks up before you can do anything, "Her parents are here. And they have something very interesting to say. Turns out our goody two shoes has some very different thoughts about us."

"Tony, no. It's not like that. I don't know why - "

"Hey, let me guess who are these two." Your mother exclaimed, conveniently shutting you up.

Wanda looked between you and Tony in confusion before smiling at your parents. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you. Y/n talks a lot about you."

Your mom looked her up and down before saying with disdain in her voice, "Redhead. A pretty face. You must be the witch."

Wanda's smile wavered but she didn't let her discomfort show.

"You're the one who is so desperate for love that she is dating a toaster."

Wanda gasped as her smile fell. She looked at you, confused and hurt.

"Mom, what are you - "

"That's what you told us, princess. That she is dating a toaster. What's its name again? Vi - Vis.." "Vision. His name is Vision and he is NOT a toaster." Wanda then looked dead into your eyes. "But it's good to know that that's what you think, y/n."

You shook your head frantically. "No, no, Wan. It's not like that. You know that's not true. I would never say that."

Wanda's eyes didn't waver and dread filled you. Your friends were not trusting you.

"What does she say about me?" Nat spoke up. She asked as if she couldn't care less but being her best friend for almost a year now, you could read it in her eyes that she was almost as afraid of the answer as you were.

"You're the black widow, right?" Your father questioned.

Your mother spoke up without waiting for a reply, "You are the useless one. No, like, really, the three of us always wonder, why are you even a part of the group? There are supersoldiers in here, witches and literal gods, what do you do? Throw some punches? Kicks?"

"Gods. That reminds me, where are the self-proclaimed gods/aliens of yours?" Your dad snickered, amused.

"Which one?" Your mom questioned in reply. "The doofus or the monster which can never be trusted?"

You had had enough. You exclaimed, "Okay, guys. Enough. Stop talking."

Your dad smirked. The audacity. "Come on, princess. Aren't you tired of pretending? Don't you want your friends to know what you actually think about them?"

You opened your mouth to tell them that whatever they were saying was as far from the truth as it could get when everybody in the kitchen heard footsteps approaching.

You heard Steve before you saw him, "Who thinks about what?" He asked, genuinely curious.

Your heart started beating frantically when you realized he wasn't alone. Sam and Bucky had entered the kitchen with him. But unlike the other times, your heart was beating with fear. This couldn't be happening. No, no.

"Y/n's parents are here. They were telling us all the great stuff she says about us to them." Wanda said with pure disgust in her voice. You had never seen her this mad.

"Guys, trust me. It's not - " "Come on, y/n. Let them speak." Sam said before turning towards your parents. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr and Mrs l/n."

Your father rolled his eyes before saying, "You're the one who got kicked out of the Air Force and then kissed Captain America's arse for a job."

Sam's jaw dropped but before he could say anything your mom replied, "No, honey. Y/n told us it was that Ant-man."

Your dad shook his head. "No, no. Antman is the one who went to jail. He is Falcon."

You were seeing red now. You knew that your parents were a little too overprotective of you and hence didn't like you taking this job. But you thought meeting your friends and realizing how caring and nice everybody was would change their minds. You never thought that they would ever do this to you.

You desperately wanted to explain yourself. To tell your friends that this was all a lie but you couldn't. You could see it in their eyes that they already hated you. And with your parents standing right there, you knew it would be impossible to give them. Maybe you could talk to them after your parents left. You just hoped they would give you a chance to explain yourself.

When your dad's eyes landed on Bucky, panic swelled inside you. Nononono.

"Oh, and you must be the winter soldier. That metal arm makes it pretty obvious though." Your dad said as he pointed towards Bucky's left side with pure disgust in his eyes as if it was the most horrifying thing he had ever seen.

Tears welled in your eyes as you saw how Bucky pulled his sleeves to cover more of his arm and blocked it from view.

"Do you have any idea how difficult you make it for people to work in this compound? Y/n complains to us how she has to walk on eggshells around you, scared that anytime you would get back to being the assassin that you have always been." Your mother uttered the words with a permanent frown on her face.

"But can you blame her though? You can not just kill hundreds of people and live freely, pretending to be a hero."

"Enough." You shouted. You couldn't take it anymore and your parents had gone too far.

You looked at Bucky, about to explain to him that none of it was true. That you were never scared of him. Not even for a second. Because you loved him. Since the day you had met him, your heart had held nothing but love for him.

But the look that you saw in his eyes made you stop in your tracks. He wasn't looking at you with hate or anger. No, it was much worse. He looked hurt. As if someone had pulled his heart out of his chest and stomped on it. You couldn't help but notice that his eyes held a little bit of understanding too as if he didn't blame you for thinking that way.

Your chest hurt and you wanted nothing more than to reach out to him.

"Wow. That - that was." Steve broke the silence, but it was the first time you had seen him out of words. "Is that really what you think about us, y/n?"

"No, no, Steve, None of it is true."

"Come on, princess. You don't have to put up a facade anymore. No more pretense."

"Stop it." You shouted at your parents. This was the first time you had ever raised your voice at them, but you couldn't care less. They were ruining everything.

"Guys, you need to trust me. Please." You looked at everybody, begging them with your eyes and words to just trust you.

"I don't understand. Why did you pretend to be our friend for so long? Why pretend to care when that's what you really think?" Wanda spoke, bewildered.

"No, no. That's not - " You spoke, tears at the brim of your eyes. This couldn't be happening.

"For the money, of course. Come on, why would someone live in the most dangerous place on earth if not for a buttload of money?" Your dad said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"No, no, no, please. You guys have to trust me, please." You looked around at everybody, frantically searching for even a hint that everything was not ever. That they could trust you. But all you got was hurt faces and built-up walls.

"Why are you doing this to me?" You shout at your parents. You were extremely close to sliding on the floor and crying your heart out.

"We are trying to help you, princess. We are freeing you." Your mom said with a smug expression.

"You don't have to do that anymore," Tony spoke and all the eyes in the room looked at him. Hope swelled in your chest.

"You don't have to stay here and pretend to like us. I really really want to fire you but you know too much and your statistical skills are too good to be wasted. So, you will be transferred. Somewhere far from us where we don't ever have to see your face." Tony spoke with a sense of finality in his voice and your heart broke into a hundred pieces.

You looked at your feet and swallowed the lump in your throat before looking at him and whispering, "You don't have to do that." You then turned and looked into the blues of Bucky's eyes which you were so familiar with and all you could do was whisper, "I am sorry."

You didn't wait for anybody's response before walking out and towards your room.

There was nothing that you could do anymore.

You were not going to take that transfer.

This job was never about money to you. You had found a family here, and you loved them with everything you had. But it still wasn't enough for them to trust you.

You cried and cried and cried till you had no more tears to let go before getting up and packing your bag.

You had to leave. You couldn't face them again.

There was only one thing left to do.

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The compound was silent.

It was as if nobody even lived here anymore.

Everybody sat at the dining table staring at the food in front of them, nobody taking a bite.

It was as if a part of them was missing. As if the one thread that had bound them together was somehow suddenly torn apart.

There was an unspoken agreement between them. Nobody would talk about what had happened earlier that day. The wound was too fresh to be confronted.

Nobody knew where you were right now. But everybody just assumed that you were in your room.

Steve was very close to barging into your room and bringing you to the dining table. He couldn't count the number of times he had told you that you shouldn't talk while eating and even after choking on your food twice, you hadn't listened to him and Steve was glad. There was nothing he wouldn't give right now to bring back the lively chatter that had always surrounded the dining table. But he had to remind himself that everything he had thought was a lie, a pretense.

Tony was angry. He was seething. He had cared for you like you were his own daughter and you had thrown all of that into a drain.

Wanda just wanted to know how you were so good at acting. How you could pretend to be her best friend when you hated her all along?

But Bucky just wanted to know one thing - why. He didn't blame you for thinking that way about him. You weren't the only one who did. But he wanted to know why you would pretend to be his friend, to care about him when you thought him to be a monster. Why did you comfort him after all those panic attacks and nightmares telling him it wasn't his fault when you blamed him for every single thing? Why had you let him fall in love with you if you couldn't even stand him? You had to know that it would leave him devastated. He didn't blame you for hating him, but how was he supposed to live without your light now? Especially when he knew it was never for him?

Nat couldn't take it anymore. She couldn't just let everyone swallow themselves in silence for a person who never even cared about them in the first place. She harshly got up before walking towards the living room for a bottle of wine.

She shook her head when the memories of all of you hanging out at the same place plagued her mind.

As she walked past the bookshelf, she noticed something which had never been there before.

She frowned as she walked towards it to realize that it was a pen drive. She slowly picked it up to find a note attached to it which just read, "Sorry".

She was so engrossed that she didn't hear footsteps approaching until a hand took the pen drive from her. She looked up to realize Tony was looking at the drive intently as if scanning it with his eyes.

"What's this?" He asked, confused.

"No idea. Found it on the bookshelf."

Tony read the note and recognized the handwriting almost instantly. "It's y/n's."

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Everybody sat in the living room staring intently at the screen before them.

Tony had assembled everybody and they had all agreed to watch the pen drive once. Maybe it would answer their questions. Maybe it was just an old pen drive and had to do nothing with what had happened today but they had to know.

The system finally finished scanning the drive after what felt like a lifetime and your face flashed on the screen.

Your tears-stained cheeks and red, swollen eyes, told them that the video was indeed today's.

"Hey, guys." You sounded broken and defeated.

"I am not even sure that you are going to watch this." You let out a sad chuckle.

"But I just needed to say this 'cause it feels like if I don't, it will swallow me whole. And you guys deserve to know the truth, too."

"I just - I want you all to know that all that you heard today, none of it was true. Not even a single word of it. And I need you guys to know this." You looked directly into the camera as if begging them to trust you and nobody dared to move.

"I - I don't know why my parents did what they did. I have no idea. I can tell myself that they were trying to protect me, but who am I trying to convince? 'Cause, you don't protect someone by taking away the best thing that ever happened to them." You sniffled, rubbing your palms on your face to wipe off the tears.

"And that is what this team was for me. This job, this team, was the best thing that ever happened to me. And it was never because of the money or the luxuries of living in the tower, it was you guys. You were a family I found in a city I knew nothing about. And that was what mattered to me."

Tony wanted to shut the video off, to tell everybody that maybe you were lying here too, pretending, but he knew it wasn't true. Your eyes shone with guilt and desperation and eyes never lie.

The video continued. "And maybe you are not even watching this video. Maybe you will never know how I actually felt and will hate me forever, but if there is even a slight chance that you are watching this, and there is a small part of you that can trust me, I want you to know what I actually think about you.

Tony, you were like a dad to me. You always looked out for me and were so damn concerned about me the whole time and I can't thank you enough. Thank you for always looking out for me and I never for a second got annoyed by you talking about tech, you might not know this but your eyes shine brighter when you are talking about your creations and I would never get tired of that. The only complaint I had for you is that you need to take care of yourself more. Stop sleeping in your lab and eating shawarma all the time in the name of food, it's not healthy. Take care of yourself, Tony, 'cause there are some people who will always need you."

Tony looked away, blinking hard so as to not let the tears roll down his cheeks. All the times when you brought him food in his lab because he hadn't left his spot for hours and then you forced him to finish it all, you didn't do it as a pretense, you did it because you genuinely cared about him.

"Nat, you're the bravest and the most badass person I know. Don't tell anyone, but you are my favorite fighter. I admire you so damn much. Who cares that you can't lift things with your mind or fly? You can kick people's asses without blinking an eye. You inspire me so much."

"Wanda, you and Nat are my best friends and I am so proud of you. After everything you've lost, gathering the courage to love again is the most courageous thing I've ever seen. You and Vis make me believe in love. Hell, I even had a speech ready for your wedding as your bridesmaid." You had a small smile on your face as if remembering something, "Now that I am not going to be there anymore, Nat, I am going to ask you to give a great speech from my side too. I know you are not a very emotion-oriented person, but please try. 'Cause Wanda deserves nothing but the best."

Wanda sniffed audibly and Nat kept a hand on her shoulder.

"Thor, prince of Asgard, Son of Odin." You said in the voice that Thor had taught you to intimate a long time ago and chuckled. "I know you are the one who stole all my pop tarts." As Thor's eyes widened, the video continued, "Don't act surprised. Why do you think I never changed the place of keeping my pop tarts even after they went missing every single week? I am not upset, nope. I don't even like those that much. I just need you to know that I won't be there to keep those tarts there. Ask J.A.R.V.I.S., he knows where I brought them from. He will tell you."

"Sam." Sam looked up from his spot as he heard his name. "I am a little upset with you. You never let me use red wig." You pouted and Sam chuckled. "But you do know that you are the funniest, smartest, and one of the most deserving people to be on the team, right? Hell, bringing you to the team was the best decision Steve ever made."

You stopped for a moment looking down at your feet, when you breathed, "Bucky." Your voice was much softer now as if his name was a prayer.

Bucky looked up into the camera, his heart beating a mile per minute. If this was all a lie too, he didn't want to know what you had to say. Even if it was actually how you felt, he wasn't sure he was ready for what you were going to say.

"I - " You stopped and took a deep breath. You looked vulnerable as if you were apart to lay your soul bare in front of you. "Bucky, I just - Whatever you heard today, it is not true. None of it. Since the day I met you, I have never been scared of you. Not for a single second. You know I don't blame you for anything that Hydra did, you have to know. I don't think you were a monster. I think you are the sweetest, kindest and bravest person I know. I wasn't lying when I told you that I trusted you with my life. I trust you, I care about you, and I - "

Bucky's breath hitched in his throat as you suddenly stopped.

"Well, there is a major chance that you're not even watching this, so .. why not? It's not like I am ever going to get a chance to say it to you. So, here it is -

I love you, Bucky. I am in love with you. I have been for a very long time now. I could tell myself that it was just a small crush and it would go away sooner or later, but who am I kidding? I want to spend every single moment of my day with you. You're the first thought that comes to my mind when I wake up and my last memory before I fall asleep. When you are around, I can't stop looking at you and when you are not, all I want to do is look at you. I know that you might never feel this way about me, especially after today, but I just had to say it once."

You took a deep breath before speaking with finality in your voice, "I just hope that one day you guys will know that it wasn't a pretense. That this team was everything to me. I found a family, a place to call home, I found love. I hope that one day you will be able to forgive me."

The video stopped and everybody bowed their heads down while Bucky just stared at the screen desperately, as if you would walk out of it.

You loved him.

You wanted to be with him and god if that thought alone wasn't the best thing that had ever happened to him. He didn't think you could love him. He had accepted the fact that he was destined to love you from afar, a love that you would never know about.

But you felt the same. He didn't have to watch you fall in love with someone else and get your happily ever after, because you wanted that to be him.

You could be his happily ever after.

Before he could let himself be hopeful, realization struck him and left him breathless.

You had said that you would never get the chance to say it to him personally. The things that you had said, the finality in your voice, it had all sounded like a ... goodbye.

He stood up abruptly, only to realize that all the eyes were on him.

Some were filled with tears, others were trying really hard to keep their emotions in check. No, no, this couldn't be. How was he supposed to live without you now that he knew that you loved him too?

Without muttering a word to anybody, he rushed out of the room, through the corridor, and towards your room. You couldn't have gone yet. No, no, he would beg you to stay, get on his knees and ask you to forgive him.

He stood outside your door for a moment, taking a deep breath, mentally preparing himself.

He brought his hand to knock on your door, only to realize that it wasn't locked.

With bated breath, he pushed the door open.

It was vacant. Everything that you had put in to make it a home, was gone.

You were gone.

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The whole team stood in the living room, waiting.

Bucky walked in, his head shaking and arms trembling.

Nobody uttered a word as they waited for him to give words to the inevitable. He looked up, tears brimming his eyes as he whispered, "She is gone."

Everybody gasped as guilt filled them.

Only if they had trusted you.

"No, no. We cannot give up. We need to find her. I am going to find her. We cannot give up this easily." Bucky said, praying that he was right, that not everything was lost. There was still hope. There had to be.

"He is right. We can't just let her go." Wanda said, tears straining her cheeks. "There has to be a way." Sam agreed.

Tony suddenly lightened up as he took out his tablet. "We can track her. If she hasn't switched off her phone, we can find her exact location." He had enabled a tracking sensor in everyone's phone some time ago. He remembered the way you had pouted and teased him that it was an invasion of privacy, but had finally let him install it nonetheless.

He let out a sigh of relief when he realized he could still check the location of his phone. "She is heading towards the airport."

Dread filled everybody as Tony's words sank in. You were leaving. Forever.

"She is in a cab right now. I can figure out its number, but it might be too late."

"I have to go," Bucky exclaimed. "I am not going to let her go. No. I need to find her." He looked around, ready to fight anyone who came in his way.

But everybody just gave him a reassuring look as Steve whispered, "Go, get the girl, Buck."

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You looked through the window as the city lights bristled by.

Your cheeks were still stained with tears as you left behind the place you had called home.

But there was no other option. Your parents had left you with no other choice.

It hurt that they had actually been successful in their mind games, but there was nothing you could do. Your parents had taken from you, the best part of your life.

You were going to miss the city, the team, and your friends, but there was one person you were going to miss the most.

Leaving him was like leaving a part of your behind and you knew that Bucky Barnes was always going to have a piece of your heart, even if he didn't know about it.

You swallowed the lump in your throat as the cab came to an abrupt, sudden stop.

The cab driver looked back at you before asking, "Ma'am, are you okay."

You nodded your head before asking, "Are you?" After he nodded, you continued, "What happened?" "A man just rushed his bike past us, way beyond the speeding limit, and then stopped it right before us, in the middle of the bridge."

You frowned as you looked in front of the cab.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you recognized the bike and the man getting down from it.

"Bucky." You breathed before opening the cab door, against the driver's protests, your legs on autopilot.

When your eyes met Bucky's, you could see him visibly relaxing with relief.

"Bucky, what are you - " You exclaimed against the sound of the wind.

He got down from his bike and started walking towards you quickly. "Doll, how could you?"

Your heart skipped a beat at the nickname before you lowered your head. Of course, he hated you after what had happened. He didn't trust you.

You looked up to realize that he was a couple of feet distance from you now. You opened your mouth, apologies about to come tumbling from your lips when you were cut off by him.

You gasped in shock as Bucky closed the little distance between the both of you, pressing his lips to yours, in a gentle, yet desperate kiss, as if he was drowning and only the feeling of your lips could bring him back to the shore.

When the surprise finally washed off, you brought your hands to his chest as his led down to your waist, and you kissed him back. You didn't understand what was happening. But if it was goodbye, you wanted it to last forever.

When the necessity to breathe arose, Bucky pulled back but stood close.

He leaned in and touched your forehead with his before closing his eyes.

You breathed him in. He smelled of fresh coffee and pine. He smelled like home.

"How could you leave me, doll? Without even saying anything. Not even a goodbye?" He tried to be upset with you. But who was he kidding? You could stab him through his chest and he would still thank you.  

Tears brimmed your eyes as you took in a deep breath, you wanted to savor this moment. "Buck, I - I am sorry. Whatever my parents said today, it was a lie. A huge lie. I wanted to tell you, but - "

"It's okay, doll. I trust you. But, I - I need to ask you something." He took a deep breath, already dreading your answer to the question he was about to ask. "Did you mean it?"

"Of course, I didn't. None of it. I don't blame you for anything, Bucky. I am not scared of you. I have never been."

"That's not." Bucky closed his eyes shut, praying that he could word his feelings correctly. "We - we saw the video."

Your eyes widened as realization struck you. He knew.

You had stupidly confessed all your feelings on a video. What were you thinking? He would be so embarrassed right now but you couldn't back out now.

"Buck, I - I do love you. That is the truth. But you don't have to say anything. I understand if you don't - "

Before you could finish your sentence, Bucky brought his fingers under your chin to make you look up at him before leaning in to press his lips against yours once again.

Hope swelled in your chest as you brought your arms to encircle his neck and kissed him back.

He pulled away a little too quickly to look up at you with a small smile on his face. The look in his eyes made butterflies erupt in your tummy with a ferocity you had never felt before.

"I love you too, doll. I do. With everything that I have. I love you and I am so so sorry that I didn't give you a chance to explain. I am so sorry that I didn't trust you.

I never told you this because I - I am not good enough for you, doll. I don't deserve you."

You shook your head, about to correct him, when he continued, "And I think I still don't. Being with you puts you in so much danger too, maybe I shouldn't even be with you. But I am tired of pretending that I don't want to. I am tired of pretending like I don't want to spend every single moment for the rest of my life with you. So, if you'll allow me, doll, I'll spend the rest of my life, trying to be the man you can proudly call yours 'cause I love you so damn much."

Tears were now flowing down your cheeks for a completely different reason. You leaned in to kiss him again when the both of you were interrupted by the cab driver shouting from the cab, growing impatient, "Madam, do you want to go or not?"

Bucky looked at you with hopeful eyes and you turned back to yell to the driver, "Never"

[reva1i]

*loser baby*

I really don't think that many people understand the true meaning of this song, or what I think the author wanted to express, I mean, we are relatively normal people.

What I mean is, this song is sung from an alcoholic, but not an alcoholic who can (to some extent) control his impulses and can have a normal life (work, a stable relationship with his family), noooo it's from the point of view of an alcoholic who can't stop drinking, to another one in the same situation, one who will not be given a job because of his record, one who lives as a stripper or deals marijuana, one who went out drinking and did not return to his family for days or months, one who was kicked out of his house for not being able to control himself and his children do not want to see him anymore, or one who ends up in jail or dead.

They have a fucked up life and are chained to alcohol and drugs, (a good reference with Val and Alastor) and in Alcoholics Anonymous meetings that's what they do, your life sucks, but you are not alone, everyone here's life sucks and we are all together to live through this.

And now back to the song, husk tells Anthony (I call him by his real name(I would also call husk by his real name but he is unknown)) "he always thought he was alone in the things that have hurt him" but he let his walls open and found out that he is not alone, (typical AA line)

Alcoholics Anonymous are sick people, people with depression anxiety and low self esteem, and they really know they are "losers" (difficulties in getting a job, a partner, financial stability, emotional stability) and the phrase "if you try harder you'll make it" can get pretty shitty, they even call it "toxic positivity" they know they can't since society won't accept them as easy, and that's why it's stronger a, "you're not alone in this, I understand what you go through, share your suffering with me", so yes, Anthony and husk are two alcoholics in AA and I think if you are or live with an alcoholic you would understand more or it would make you cry more.

[onceuponastory]

knights in leather jackets - biker!bucky x reader

Plot: Stuck in a dead end job at an ice cream parlour, Y/N dreams of something new in her life, especially when a biker’s charity meet and ride comes to town. And then, she meets Bucky. Pairing: Biker!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader Warnings: Y/N’s boss being an ass and a bully, verbal abuse and some violence and threats. Biker!Bucky is also very much a flirt in this, and likes using doll as his petname (yes, he’s a warning, hahaha). As always if I miss any triggers, let me know. Notes: This was inspired by a biker’s meet that happened near me, and also because I’ve always liked these kind of stories. This is not beta’d, so all mistakes are my own.

Gazing out of the window, Y/N drifts into a dreamworld. A local biker group is holding their annual charity meet and ride in her city, meaning that the streets surrounding the ice cream parlour she works in are full of motorbikes, and that the sound of engines continues to fill the air. She’s already served a few of them so far tonight, but the crowd has died down. Thankfully for Y/N, it means she can stare out of the window to her heart’s content, watching and listening to all the bikers.

“Hey, earth to Y/N. I don’t pay you to stand around looking like an idiot.” Her boss snaps, pulling her out of her trance. “Oh, please tell me you’re not staring at them.” He huffs.

“And who exactly is ‘them’?” She asks warily. 

“Those stupid bikers.” 

“It’s for charity!” She exclaims. “And besides, they’ve been great for business! I already sold a bunch of ice cream to them.” 

“I don’t give a shit! Could be for world peace for all I care. I hate those things.” Honestly, Y/N wishes she could say that she was surprised by her boss’ reply. But she’s been working for this asshole for so long, and been screamed at by him so many times that she’s used to his awful attitude by this point. “They just make too much noise, and they’re bad news. I wouldn't allow them to be here if I had my way.”

“Thank fuck you’re not in charge, then.” She mutters, rolling her eyes. If she could, she would’ve left this shitty job months ago and never looked back. Unfortunately for her, bills need to be paid, and nobody else wants to hire her, so it looks like she’s going to be stuck here, with her shitty boss, for the rest of her life.

Another roar of an engine sounds from outside, and Y/N sighs. She’d love to be like the bikers, driving all over the country without a care in the world. The wind in her hair, free to do whatever and go wherever she wanted… that would be perfect.

“I’m going for a break.” Her boss snaps, walking out and slamming the door behind him. The sound reverberates throughout the room, sending a shockwave through her entire body. Clenching her fist, she tries to calm down.

God, she hates this fucking place.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

About half an hour later, Y/N is checking on something through the back when the chimes above the door sound, signalling the arrival of another customer. Before going back out, she takes a moment to brace herself. It could also mean her boss is back, ready to get mad at her for something else that isn’t her fault.

Thankfully for Y/N, when she goes back out to the front, the only person standing there is another biker. Dressed all in black, including the sunglasses perched on his head, he looks out of place against the bright colours of the ice cream parlour. Coupled with his extremely muscular physique and the biker patches on his jacket, he looks like the stereotypical bad boy in a movie, the one who comes in to lead the heroine astray and drive her to trouble. But she doesn’t care about that. She’s just happy that she has a moment of freedom from her boss constantly breathing down her neck. And besides, what's so bad about wanting a bad boy in your life? Especially when you live a life as shitty as hers.

“Hey sir, what can I get you?” The man looks up, brushing a few strands of his long brunette hair out of his face. Light blue eyes stare back at her.

“Hey there.” He grins. God, this man is gorgeous. He peers over the cabinet, staring at all the flavours. The light catches his eyes, and they sparkle even more. “It’s so hard to choose. There’s so many choices.” He murmurs. His voice is smooth like honey, and he hums to himself as he tries to decide.  “Nope, no clue. Can you recommend anything?” He stands up straighter, almost leaning over the counter towards her. Yet, Y/N doesn’t feel afraid of him coming closer. In fact, somehow she already feels comfortable around him. 

“Well, that depends. What kind of flavours do you like?”

The man chuckles, biting his lip slightly. “I do like something sweet.” He grins, pointedly glancing over her facial features. Y/N’s breath hitches in her throat, and she can already feel heat settling onto her cheeks. “But maybe with a little tartness.” He winks, and Y/N quickly bites her tongue before she can embarrass herself. “So what do you think…” His eyes move lower, towards her chest, landing on her name tag. “...Y/N?” He whispers. Y/N bites down even harder, quieting the moan that threatens to escape. This man just oozes charisma, and it’s clear he’s flirting with her. Although, after the shitty day she’s been having, he’s the welcome respite she needs. 

“Um. I think r-raspberry ripple would be a good choice then.” She stammers, her voice sounding more like a squeak than anything else. Already, she can feel her cheeks burning in embarrassment.

“There we go then. Lady’s choice.” Quickly, Y/N scoops him some, thrusting the cone into his hand at breakneck speeds. As she does, her hand brushes against the leather of his gloves. And the sensation almost sends her heart into overdrive. Thankfully, the man doesn’t seem to notice her frazzled state. Or if he does, at least he doesn’t mention it. “Thanks doll.” He roots around in the pockets of his clearly too tight (although not that Y/N is complaining) jeans, handing over a wad of cash.

“It’s only three-” Y/N begins, holding out the extra cash. However, the man shakes his head. 

“No, no. You keep it. Consider it a tip.” And a real, proper smile, her first that day, grows on Y/N’s lips.

“Thank you so much.” She expects the man to leave then, their chance meeting over. Instead, he stands there, watching her as he eats his cone. Meanwhile, Y/N tries to think of something, anything to say to get him to stay. 

“This is amazing.” He smiles. “You have great taste.”

“You’re welcome. But you know….” She begins, and the man raises a brow. “I don’t know your name and you know mine. I think it’s only fair that I get to know yours.” Nodding, the man chuckles.

“It’s Bucky.”

“Nice to meet you, Bucky. How’s the ride? I think it’s great what you’re doing, by the way. I’ve been here most of the day, but I saw and heard you all down there. Sounds amazing.” For a moment, she’s worried her gushing will turn him off. But in fact, he seems more than happy to discuss it with her. 

“Yeah, well, someone sends the call out, and we come to raise as much as we can. This time it’s for the local kid’s hospital.” He shrugs, showing there’s no question about his choice to help others. Y/N smiles. What was that she was saying about him being a bad boy? Seems like he’s anything but. “But you’re right. It’s great catching up with everyone, too.” Y/N holds out some more cash, and Bucky frowns. “I told you that’s your tip.”

“I know. But I wanna help too.” And then, Bucky smiles. A huge, warm, grateful smile. 

“Thank you. You’re an angel, you know that? At least… one that gives out amazing ice cream and helps others.” Y/N feels her stomach fluttering, and she giggles.

“Well, I’m happy to serve.”

But then, the happy peace is shattered. “Y/N!” Her boss shouts, banging the door open. Immediately, Y/N jumps. Noticing her sudden fear, Bucky frowns. 

“What the hell? Are you alright?” Her boss storms into the room, glaring at her. From the way he’s standing, his nostrils flaring, he looks like one of those cartoons with the faces that turn bright red whenever they get angry. If steam started coming out of his ears, Y/N wouldn’t be the least bit surprised.

“I told you to take out the fucking trash before I left, didn’t I?” He hisses.

“No, you didn’t. You just stormed out.” Y/N argues, willing herself not to get pissed off or cry in front of her cute customer.

“Don’t talk back to me. Need I remind you I pay your wages? I can easily take that away.”

“But-” she begins, already hearing her voice cracking.

“Hey, that’s enough. Don’t you ever threaten her like that again.” Bucky speaks up. His voice is immediately deeper, and more threatening. 

“And who the hell are you?” Her boss asks, looking him up and down. But like Y/N said, it’s obvious that Bucky is a biker. “Oh. Of course.” He scoffs. “Listen buddy, I don’t need someone like you to tell me what to do. This is between me and my employee, so it’s none of your business. Got it?”

“Oh, someone like me, huh?” Bucky chuckles. “The thing is, I don’t care what an asshole like you thinks about me. What I do care about is how you treat your lovely employee there.” Despite the fear coursing through her veins, Y/N registers her heart beating even quicker at Bucky’s words. “Now. Why don’t you say sorry, and I won’t be forced to bring my friends round to help me deal with you, hm?”

Next, everything happens in a blur. All Y/N sees is her boss raising his fist, and Bucky quickly grabbing his wrist before he can do anything. “Really shouldn’t have done that, buddy.” Bucky tuts.

“Fuck you.” Her boss hisses, only to scream when Bucky twists his arm even more. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry!” Her boss whimpers. Bucky shakes his head.

“Not to me. Say sorry to Y/N.” He orders. Somehow, the threatening tone of Bucky’s voice is extremely attractive to her. Or that could just be because he’s doing it to protect her. When she said he was a bad boy, she couldn’t have been further from the truth. In a cheesy way, he’s more like a knight in a leather jacket. “Now.”

“I’m sorry…Y/N.” Her boss cries. Seeing the man who has bullied and threatened her for so long on his knees in tears is a pretty unbelievable sight. Yet, Y/N can’t help but giggle. She’s been wanting this bastard to get his comeuppance ever since she started working here, and she’s not missing a moment of it.

“Good boy. Now, fuck off and leave her alone. And if I ever hear that you’re treating her like shit again, I will bring my friends round, okay?” When her boss nods, Bucky lets go of his wrist, and he scurries out of the door without another word. As Bucky takes out his phone, dialling a number, Y/N lets out a breath she doesn’t realise she was holding. Her heart is still pounding in some weird mix of fear and love for the man who saved her. “Hey. We have a situation at the ice cream parlour.” Bucky speaks, pacing around the shop. “No, nothing like that. The boss was just being an asshole to his employee, so I made sure he knew to leave her alone or else. Asshole’s probably gonna go squealing to the police at some point though, so we should be prepared. …Okay, see you soon.”

When Bucky hangs up, he’s immediately back to the same, kind person he was when it was just them. “Are you alright? He hasn’t hurt you, has he?”

“No, it just scared me. It’s nothing new, though.” She murmurs. Her words make Bucky’s jaw clench, and he sighs.��

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.” Y/N doesn’t respond. Instead, she crosses over to him, pulling him into a tight grasp, not even caring about the consequences. He smells like gasoline and patchouli oil. The powerful aroma infiltrates her entire senses, sweet and intoxicating. Bucky wraps his arms around her, pulling her even closer. So close she can feel the warmth radiating from his body, and feel his heartbeat through his jacket.

“Thank you.” She gasps. “So much.”

“Of course, doll. It’s what we do.” Being in Bucky’s arms feels safe and right. He holds her until her heart rate calms down, matching with his. She never wants to let go.

But then, she remembers. Bikers from all over the country are at this charity meet.What if Bucky lives miles away, and she’ll never see him again?

“Bucky, what happens when you go? What if he comes back?” She asks, her voice quiet. Pulling apart from her, Bucky grabs a napkin, writing his number on it.

“I doubt he will come back, but if there’s any issues, you call me okay? I’ll be right over.” He picks up his helmet, heading towards the door.

“Wait, where are you going?”

“I’ve gotta go meet the others. Like I said, call me, okay?”

“Okay.” She nods, already missing him.

And then, he’s gone.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll see more from these two very soon.

Please follow @onceuponastory-library​ and turn on notifications to be notified when I next post!

[twigg96]

Merle X Reader HC/Fic

Sooo... I might have a thing for the Dixon boys lol.... Here are some HCs for Merle. Next in this series will be either Negan or Rick <3

Merle didn't do relationships... he normally did flings. Hot, steamy, one night stands that meant nothing to either partner. That took no emotional effort at all on his part.

Merle didn't normally do emotions. Emotions were messy. Emotions got him hurt. His emotional bandwidth was taken up by family. Or what was left of it anyway...

But then he met you... when his normal coping mechanisms of harsh comedy and pulling away didn't work on you and you only drew closer to the crass man only wishing to know him further... Merle started to become intrigued with you and these new feelings bubbling up in him. Although he wouldn't dare label the emotions as anything more than curiosity. You would say you and Merle had become thick as thieves.

He brought you home to meet his brother. Something he often did with some of his long term flings but something was special about you. Something different. He hadn't fucked you... as a matter of fact he didn't really want to or feel a need to... he just wanted to keep you close. Watch you hang out with Daryl in their little trailer and watch a shitty movie with an arm around your shoulder... if you let him. It was a weird feeling that pissed him off slightly. He knew your body was fucking smoking hot. He knew he should be simply banging you silly in his room, listening to this movie in the background, before moving on with his life. Not dwelling on whatever the fuck this new feeling was. But as you laughed at the movie, handing the popcorn to Daryl and leaning into his own side more, sharing a joke Merle knew would soon become an inside joke between the two of you, treating the younger Dixon as an equal instead of a pest or a nuisance who didn't belong in his own home like so many of his partners had before... it peaked his interest to peer deeper into those unknown emotions he was experiencing.

Taking you out to go hunting was just one way Merle showed his... interest in you. It was his way of showing off his skills in the sport as well as teaching you vital skills he learned in his life. Skills he hoped you'd never have to use. Skills he could never know would end up saving not only your life but the lives of many in the future. Merle saved for weeks at his shitty dead end job (dealing wasn't always what it was cracked up to be) to pay for all three of your hunting licenses (just cause he lived life in the fast lane didn't mean he always felt the need to skirt the law... didn't help he used a fake ID to get the damned things though) and everything you'd need to go in the coming weeks. If there was anything he could pride himself in it was semi-legally bringing food to the table.

Inviting you over the night before he let you take his own bed and to the amazement of Daryl he took the couch. Merle had claimed it was so that when he got up to get ready he wouldn't wake you, but in the morning when he woke up at the ungodly hour before the sun rose to find you already awake, completely dressed and brewing coffee, Merle was damned tempted to call off the hunt to spend the day at home hunting you. But Daryl coming out of the bathroom with a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth and a tired far away look in his eye reminded him he had a duty to get meat for harsh winter ahead.

However Merle never had the patience to hunt normally... So he brought along entertainment and some accelerators that made the hunt go by faster and in his favor. Leading you through the woods the two of you walked silently saying a quick good luck to Daryl as he took off on his own. Merle knew his brother always did do better on his own and would probably out hunt you both, his proclivity to hunt from the break of dawn until the sunset baffled Merle. Settling you down in a small grove of oak trees Merle wrapped an arm around your waist pointing in the direction the deer would appear if he scouted right. The sun slowly rose into the sky turning it a deep red before it ascended into the sky. The cool fall morning never warmed above chilling and the eldest Dixon knew the deer were bedding down to keep warm. Pulling you to your feet Merle walked with you. He had bought cherry bombs from one of the dealers he associated himself with for a case such as this. Using a slingshot and a lit cigarette he shot them into the thick brush when he got bored. Laughing as they exploded spraying twigs and dirt into the air. He'd deal with the aftermath of Daryl's anger later when they got home... but for now he let the beaming smile on your face drive him. Handing the slingshot to you, he pointed to a different spot in the brush, lighting the bomb with the end of his cigarette. Thunk... BOOM. You both laughed as more dirt flew and several deer jumped from the brush. They each darted in several directions and before Merle could pull his gun up to take a good shot; a gun beside him went off. It was the first deer you ever bagged.

As time went on Merle started bringing you with him nearly everywhere. To the grocery store. To the gas station. But mostly to the bar. You didn't seem to drink that much. If you did drink it was only a few before you limited yourself. Merle never had that kind of restraint. He over indulged. He always did. He was loud, crass, and could be mean as a rattle snake when he drank. More so than normal. It seemed to only be exasperated when he was under the influence. But you never seemed to notice or care. Still connected to his hip all through the night. Laughing at his shitty jokes. Correcting his over crass behavior when he got too rowdy. Keeping him from getting himself killed by sneakily limiting his drinks through the night. Or simply diluting them with water or seltzer.

You truly were his angel.

When some guy with a death wish decided he wanted to try and force his way between you two. “Damn, girl. You got a nice ass.” The jackass growled shoving himself between you and the eldest Dixon. If you hadn’t given Merle a talk before you both left the house he might have killed the guy already. But you promised him you’d do your best to handle it and would flag him if you needed. So with all the strength Merle had in his his drunken body. He walked over to join his brother glaring holes into the back of the asshole’s skull who swayed drunkenly trying to whoo you off your feet. “Surprised you haven’t laid ‘im out yet.” Daryl drawled following Merle’s gaze, glaring daggers at the jackass. “Seen ya lay guys out fer less before.” He hummed taking a sip of the beer he’d been nursing through most of the night. Watching as you shook you head politely at the man’s advances, turning to the bar and drinking down your liquor uncomfortably Merle simply hummed. “Said I’d stay back this time. But if he lays a hand on her it’s fair game, little brother.” Merle growled shooting Daryl a look that spoke volumes. Merle watched as you moved your body further away from the man as he stepped a little closer keeping your arms tucked tight around your middle to keep from accidentally bumping into him. Merle watched as you shook your head again standing slowly and shaking your hand. But that’s when the asshole turned into enemy number one. The dick bag had the fucking gull. The sheer audacity to grab you by the wrist, shoving you into the bar, caging you there with his body. He stood over you stumbling only slightly as you shoved against him with all your strength. Merle didn’t have to say a word when Daryl sat his beer down, knowing exactly what was coming next following him willing across the country bar. Merle grabbed the bastard by the ear, dragging him out into the alley between the bar and the abandoned building beside it. Together he and Daryl made the fucker regret the day he was born.

The day the world fell into chaos Merle hadn't believed it at first. What a sick joke. Human beings returning from the dead. Human beings eating each other. The world falling apart. You had come over early in the morning before work. Cuddling up to Merle he somehow convinced you to stay home, call off. Even if he didn't believe the shit himself. He just had a... feeling. Now he was glad he had it. Daryl had been up on the mountain hunting. Watching as camera men risked life and limb to get closer to the action you both speculated it was only in the cities... and it was... at first. Then you heard the gunshots next door. And Merle's military training went into overdrive. Grabbing dusty duffle bag after dusty duffle bag of supplies he had stashed around the house Merle tied them tight to his bike.

It took three days for you and Merle to find Daryl out in the woods. Luckily for you both the geeks had just as much of a hard time. There were no biters out in the middle of no where. And if Merle had thought that an emergency would have lasted more than a week for three people, he would have packed more water. But he didn't and with the biters carrying some sort of disease. Merle didn't want to risk catching it in the water.

The three of you raided houses and small groups for a time. Daryl hated it. That much was evident. You hated it more. You had grown silent. distant. Though Merle couldn't tell if it was because of hunger or regret that had you pulling away. But he tried not to think about it. He just tried to focus on the survival of all of you.

When you all made it to the Quarry, Merle had origianlly wanted to raid it like the others and dip. But the kids... You and Daryl wouldn't let him. And so there he sat, a week later. Wittling a damned fishing rod for some broad he didn't know so she and her sister could go try and fish... Useless. Meanwhile you were being hounded by the big headed prick Shane. Every time he turned around he was nosing around you. If it were any time before three weeks ago he would have laid Shane out flat and thought nothing about it... But now... he had to act right... or Shane would kick them out... not that he would give a shit... but You were right. Even if he hated it. There was a safety in numbers.

Unfortunately... Merle could never keep his anger in check nor his mouth shut for long. The combination always seemed to get him in trouble. With the law - he was arrested more times than he could count and with more prison time than he probably deserved but let go because a fantastic lawyer. With ex-partners- he always said shit he would regret- it cost him a relationship with one of his maybe kids... he really should have looked into that before the end of the world... But now he was handcuffed to a roof. no hope to see you again ever again. All because his big mouth and bigger ego.

Finding the graves at the Quarry was the hardest thing he ever had to go through beyond war. Digging them up with one hand in the wet muddy ground coming down off of all his drugs to be certain none of them held you or Daryl... was his coming to religion moment.

The entire time he worked for the Governor Merle searched for you and Daryl. If Daryl had you he knew you were safe. Not that he doubted you. Merle trusted that you were out there somewhere now throwing cherry bombs into the woods to scare the deer into coming out for Daryl.

Walking in the woods one night on patrol Merle counted the stars. The moon. He never really looked at them before. You had tried once to show him the constellations. Where they all where at different times. Stars were your thing. Not his. He pretended to be interested. But you could tell he wasn't interested. He wished he could give you the time now.

Months into his service to Woodbury he was out doing the Governor's bidding. There had been a disturbance at the line apparently. He was deployed to deal with it. He hated his job but... it made the time pass. Better than in a jail cell he supposed... Searching under cars and in broken grocery store windows he disposed of a few walkers before watching a shadow scurry across the dusty glass of a hardware store window. "If yer looking to get a weapon yer out a luck... but if ya need a tool-" He froze. You stood in the glass staring back at him fear washed over your face before you ran to hide behind some shelves. Had you not seen him? Not recognized his voice?! Or maybe he was hallucinating again... it seemed to be a theme recently. He was seeing your face everywhere. Even in the paintings that Phillip had hanging in the halls. Walking into the store Merle growled rounding the aisles looking for you. This was ridiculous why- Oh... it was just a teen... Letting her slip past him he sighed pretending not to see them at all just willing to tell the teams that they were seeing shit again.

The trek to the prison felt like walking into death row. From one prison into another Merle thought walking beside Daryl. He didn't dare ask about you. Though the question burned in his mind so brightly that he nearly screamed it several times. It wasn't the time... wasn't the place. Not after the things Daryl had seen. Not after the changes he'd made. He wasn't the same Daryl that Merle left behind. More mature. Decisive. It was good to see in a way. It brough Pride to his chest in way that made him want to smile. It also brought tears in a painful way that made him want to scream and cry out for the time he lost. When the gates opened and only hostility came... you never did Merle looked desperately to Daryl who only could look to the ground. "Went out lookin' for ya." Merle shook his head turning towards the gate. "Merle." Daryl yelled. "I... I'll take ya too 'em." Daryl sighed looking very much like the boy Merle remembered. Leading Merle to a group of graves only marked with crosses not in a dissimilar way that the group at the Quarry used Daryl stopped. Feeling bile rise to the top of his throat at the sick feeling of Deja vu Merle shook his head. "Went out lookin' for ya every day... one day... didn't come back so I went lookin'..." Daryl sniffed gesturing to a cross with your name. "Found 'em turned and wandering back by Woodbury... not sure what happened... but we have our ideas."

Merle lived day by day and in a daze from then on. He lived for Daryl. Had to keep him safe. Like he always did. but it was different. Without you there to light up his life he was just existing waiting for what he couldn't put a name to it. So when the governor wanted to meet. A trade. Merle knew what he had to do. You died near Woodbury. The Governor knew... now... he would pay... he would know not to fuck with Rick... He'd stay the fuck away from Daryl and he'd regret ever letting you die on his land.

Impulsive. Merle had always been impulsive. and it always got him in trouble... but this time as his vison faded to black and a light shined in his eyes he was sure was the sun... he heard your voice... and he smiled.

[whole-circus]

I was wondering if you'd put your depiction on the creepypastas if the reader was a Tomie Kawakami like entity. I don't know if you have ever read or seen this character by Junji Ito or not so only do this if you're comfy

PS: have good day, hydrate and rest °v°

Creepypastas with Tomie Kawakami like!

➥ with Jeff the Killer, Jane the Killer, Eyeless Jack, "Ticci" Toby, BEN Drowned, X-Virus

Hi! I just LOVE that idea!! I must say I enjoy reading Junji Ito's works (even if Tomie wasnt my fav)! Here you go hun, if you want some other characters feel free to say! >:3 Good day for you too, take care! Also you waited so long im sorry, I had to made small break and now I feel like my "work" is shitty!!!!

˚　　✦　　　. ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚. 　　　✦　　˚

Jeff the Killer

Okay I feel like at first Jeff would pretend that he is not into you..who knows why? His own deep insecurities? Or he just doesnt like the idea of how flirty you are? You know, he usually is the one making first move and toying with others (making them obv uncomfy, he act like definition of "white straight good guy" lol). But no worries, he does find you absolutely cute, thinks you are prettiest person walking on earth (and you are all that actually). Listen, he wont magically turn into huge simp..but! you make him feel things. Congrats, you have high chance to broke Jeff and make him lovely-dovely on his weird way towards you! No matter if you are already in relationship with him or not, he gest pretty possesive and jealous over you! Come on, you cant be all pretty and cute AND have everyone all over you! People who adores you might end up dead before you will be able to kill them. Definitely would try threaten people to stop talking to you..its up to you if you find it cute or scary tho!

Jane the Killer

Jane gives me huge femme fatale vibes so i feel like you would really vibe together (no matter your gender)! And come on!! She understands the need of revenge like no one else!! Jane wants to beat Jeff ass! Adores you so much..not only you are absolutely gorgeous but also pretty smart too! Appearance matter in some way to her, but I think she would actually be into intelect and personality more than how you look like. And the fact that you are such a great manipulator!! You will make her fall in love with you even more. She is such a cutie im telling you! Jane is jealous but she puts that aside all that aside and she just worries about your yeah well technically you cant die, but what damage your brain will damage your brain and stay for long time! She doesnt want you to get hurt, even if you are doing the big scary job here!

Eyeless Jack

Demon partner with demonish partner? Isnt that perfect? Yeah yeah, you are diffrent from eachother but definitely have common ground, arent you? Dunno why but I feel like your charm wouldnt work on him just becasue of what he is. That doesnt mean that he doesnt find your ass cute tho! He just you know..its not really obsessive but more of actual feelings. Even if other pastas fell in love with your character too, then Jack would be a bit diffrent and at first fell for who you are and not what you look like! When it comes to possible of jealousity, he is not that much of envious about people who you flirt with/or they flirt with you! He clearly understands that you do it more for your..entertainment and to cause chaos (and maybe some sort of revenge). Also he is immortal, you are immortal - best couple to ever exist! You will spend eternity with eachother so he doesnt have anything to worry about!

"Ticci" Toby

Damn reader, you will break Toby! He gets so shy and so blushy around you.. Especially if you are flirting with him! Doesnt really like the idea of you and other people being a bit flirty. He gets jealous easly and it leads him to being insecure and doubtful of himself - he knows that he is not perfect, and all your actions make him even more anxious. Toby does care so much about your opinion so he just bottles it all up, not wanting to mess up even more! But I bet you are smart human being and feel that something is wrong. Just reassure him that you love him a lot and he is way diffrent than people you talk to (well, he is in fact atill alive, isnt he) and he is good to go!

BEN Drowned

Ben is Ben, not a simple thought in his head. Yeah kidding, but he just cant help but simp over you so so much! Like he is down on his knees at your service the second he sees you! Dont get me wrong, you are not only what you look like but its the first thing he notices about you! It would be almost too easy to manipulate him, but we dont do that here..(at least I hope so). Anyway, he literally worships you, you are the most good-looking person out here! And he is a ghost, he has seen a lot. About your habit of flirting around and then watchin somebodys downfall? I cant say he is not jealous, but he wont show it. Also finds your actions pretty funny. Who doest like to see someone dying becasue of their stupidy? Yeah, definitely not Ben, loves the chaos you cause.

X-Virus

Cody enjoyes how flirty you are! Okay well, maybe he only enjoys that if you are flirty with him! For real, you get him all giggly and blushy to be honest. Its so easy to tease him and so fun to look at! Propably tries his best to do the same but fails miserably. Your relationship give me a bit of nerd x popular partner vibe lol! You know, he literally spends half of his time in lab or studying for fun + Cody propably stinks. Now here you are, having such a mesmerizing appearance!! (You are fun to be around to, lets not be so vain!) . At the same time he asks many question, its just in his nature to enjoy knowing things. He just cant help but wonder what or who are you..but who wouldnt want to know that?..And please try to get idea of testing you or making small experiments out of his small silly head!! He is weirdo like that! But at the end of a day he is your weirdo!

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[olderthannetfic]

Maybe I'm just dumb and uneducated, but the publishing world just sounds a bit like a scam. Not in the traditional sense, but more in the sense that everyone for some reason thinks they'll make the break through so you should aim to get a publishing deal because you might end up being the next big star! You'll be the one who's books will lead to having a movie made*, you'll get the merch, the comics, the games, you'll be lauded and remembered for your writing and how YOU changed the publishing world. You just need to be a human machine who managed to write exactly what the publishing chefs at the top want. Please keep individuality to a minimum. In reality you might get a boost in money maybe if your book ever gets deigned to be bought up, how much is the average? 10-20K? Everything after that is just dead air. You will probably never be able to survive on the royalties, your book is most likely gonna end up side by side with books with the exact same premise as yours, because publishing prefers just copy pasting the same things over and over. Maybe you'll be the rare "token" #NotLikeOtherBooks that's there to test the waters for the next big trend, but most likely not, because those spots are for nepotism publications or big social media names. Oh but maybe you'll be the super big social media star who managed to get a huge social media following, so maybe you'll get a publishing deal that way, not because you're a good writer, but because you already got an audience. Oh the writing of this famous person is subpar? Oh who cares, just buy their book, we can sell with their name! While you're at it, do all the advertisement yourself, we don't really want to bother anymore. What do you expect us to do? Actually promote your book? Pfff, do that yourself. Oh you don't have social media? Welp, goodbye!

*from what I've seen studios might buy movie deals but that just means they'll keep the right to making a movie, not that there ever will be a movie, and you obviously lose the tiny nugget of chance that another studio does it.

--

I think you're being unduly pessimistic, not because this stuff isn't true of publishing but because this is how most sexy jobs work.

You become an accountant because the pay is steady. You might also enjoy it, but it's not one of those sexy jobs with a zillion people flinging themselves at the opportunity to be perpetually underpaid. Most arts jobs and a fair number of other over-mythologized ones, however, are in this same category where people have romantic ideas that they'll be the lone success... and they won't be.

Sure, it's sad that the dream of buying a mansion from your book royalties is out of reach, but... lots of life is like this? I don't think it's a big deal.

--

Now, as for the movie deal thing, you've misunderstood that one totally. What studios buy is options. That means they're tying up your movie rights for a few years so nobody else can have them.

The key feature here is that options run out.

If you keep being successful for a long time, you can sell an option on the same work over and over and over. It's a great deal for the author!

The chance that your thing will actually be made and that, if it is made, the adaptation won't be an absolute abomination is low. It's not worth worrying about. (If you want to make movies, go pursue that, not book writing.) But that sweet, sweet option money is great if you can get it.

--

A lot of people like to get huffy about how "good" books don't sell and "bad" books do, but this is short-sighted nonsense.

Like other commercial art, a good marketing campaign can sell an inferior product, but a lot of what makes the difference is a book being appealing or not. Yes, yes, the plebes have bad taste, boo hoo. More people want to buy a romance novel than a very depressing and dense literary one in general. News at 11.

But for every genuinely shitty book with a lot of buzz, there are a number of solid genre fiction works that are obviously fun for the audience for that genre.

Celebrity memoir sells, sure, but the majority of novels aren't by famous people. There are some gimmick books on the market, including, yes, novels by social media stars, but a lot of "bad" books sell because people just actually do want a Wattpad-sounding crap romance with an alphahole dude and a girl who's pretty when she takes her glasses off—or whatever other cliche you can name.

--

Like other products, books benefit from a strong brand. An author who's been writing for years is more of a sure thing. As a reader, one has limited time and energy to vet newbies.

This is sad for us as authors, but think about it as a reader! How much of your free time do you want to spend magnanimously giving a chance to people who are probably wasting your time vs. picking up something you know you'll enjoy?

And also from a reader's perspective, I don't want surprises. Sure, I don't want a book that's so predictable it's boring, but when I pick up a romance novel, I want a happy ending. When I pick up a mystery novel, I want the mystery to get solved. When I'm reading on AO3, I expect your ship tags to be accurate.

It's a great mistake to focus on how ~nobody likes originality~. This is just pretentious art student puffery that ignores how normal human tastes and emotions work. People with this attitude are ill-suited for creative professions.

--

I think that, in general, most publishing pros, whether authors or not, are fairly up front that it's hard to live on royalties and that most authors have day jobs. This isn't new. It's something people have been trying to educate prospective authors on for decades.

I'd blame starry-eyed outsiders for these kinds of misconceptions more than I'd blame the industry.

I do support trying to inform hopefuls about the realities of choosing this as a career though. They need to know they're not going to be making rent money in most markets on writing alone.

--

All of that said, the two big changes that I do see are a couple of things related to publishing companies getting ever more beholden to corporate overlords. The profit margin has always been slim, and this can be an issue when the bean counters are too involved.

First, editorial standards have slipped a lot. 1990s trash fiction did often get at least a little bit of developmental editing from the publisher. 2020s trash fiction might get that from an agent, but often, it's expected that an author shows up with a publication-ready manuscript.

I think the idea that the publisher wanted to sit around with their thumb up their ass workshopping your baby forever was unrealistic even back in the day, but there has been a change and most people acknowledge it. I've also seen way worse basic proofreading in recent books that I don't see in used books from years ago. It's still rare to see many errors because publishers do provide this type of editing, they're good at it, and correctness is far more objective than for developmental editing, but I used to see basically zero typos and malapropisms in big publishers' books, and that is no longer true.

I'm no insider, but from what I hear, the basic issue is that publishers are being squeezed and they just don't have time or budget to do more than cursory editing now compared to some times in the past. (Of course, plenty of greats did come out of the world of pulp fiction, and I'm sure that was edited in ten seconds too, so...)

Second, yes, publishers offer very little in the way of marketing help, book tours, etc. now and expect a lot from authors. Again, I gather they're being squeezed.

It's that latter issue that made me just not bother to pursue traditional publishing. I don't trust them to understand BL-y type aesthetics in most cases. I don't want to write books within the word count that is most profitable in traditional print. And I really, really don't want to be asked to do marketing within specific parameters while not being given access to timely sales data like a normal marketer who works for the publisher or a selfpub author would have.

--

But all in all, people who work in publishing are not the enemy. They like books. If they have to make some commercial decisions over artistic ones or bow to popular tastes you don't like... well, that's life.