#did i forget to colour the lower lip

[malzenn]

wheein

[eddiernunson]

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He melts. “Sure.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Payback?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Eh, ten.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Absolutely!”

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Um Chrissy. Chrissy Cunningham?”

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

“She asked you out?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We’ll do it on Saturday, yeah?”

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

Your heart shatters. “That good?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s such a cool girl, you know?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure.”

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

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

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

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

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

That, and it’s right beside Steve Harrington.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hesitate. “Is this a trick question?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because it turned into hell.

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Right?

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes please!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Where she’s a friend.

You have to try.

“What are we watching?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hawkins looks a lot different from Eddie’s backseat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She nods.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“When did you start coming?”

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

“Why didn’t you want to go?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hmm?”

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

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

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

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

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

That was when you changed from sweetheart to slugger.

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sweet.”

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

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

“Oh,” she mutters, curling into him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. He’s not going to.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

You shrug. “It’s fascinating.”

“To who?”

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

“Any plans upcoming for next Wednesday?”

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

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

That, you agree with.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey. How was the cupcake?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…that never happened.

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another sip. Another gulp. Make it go away.

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

Daniel.

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

“Retribution.”

“Huh?”

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

What the fuck?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He stands there, blankly watching.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anything after that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eddie.

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

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

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

“Is that all?”

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

That’s why your breath tastes like vomit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s me.”

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

-

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

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

You would think.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck this guy. Fuck him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That conversation goes as well as can be expected.

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

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

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

“Is she okay?”

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

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

“Physically?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Should Eddie have called the ambulance?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Excuse me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

“Do you wanna come over for a movie?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh, three movies. Pick one.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

He’s more than willing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Probably.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What was that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mm, almost there, baby.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cum–cum in me, Eds. Fill me up.”

“Fuck-you, y’sure?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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[absfawn]

♱ soft and silly sex with abby, but it’s just your body being caged beneath hers, her hands on either side of your head on the pillows that were once neatly placed, now messy under you. your hands hold onto her arms, nails lightly sinking into her skin and creating crescent-shaped moons in your wake, and her forehead is pressed against yours, watching every single action you make. abby adores the way your lips part, eyes flutter closed and your grip on her gets tighter with each thrust of her hips. it’s not fast, nor is it rough, it’s just enough to pull soft whimpers and whines from you. enough to have you feeling like you’re on cloud nine. for a moment, she doesn’t notice the tears forming in the corners of your eyes, it’s only when she removes one hand from beside you, to reach down and rubs light circles on your clit, eliciting a loud gasp from between your lips at the ministrations of her fingers that her eyes lock with yours, and she notices. “did i hurt you?” she murmured, voice laced with worry. she quickly lowers her head to kiss away a tear that falls. “do you want to stop?”

“no! no” you giggled, shook your head and cupped her face between your hands gently, thumbs stroking her cheeks lightly. “no, never stop. m’just feeling a lot of emotions, good ones, but don’t stop” you whispered, a smile tugging at your lips when she leans into your palm and kisses your skin. “you’re so beautiful” you can’t help but tell her, voice soft, smooth and gentle. one she always wants to hear. 

the apples of her cheeks change in colour, crimson red, at your words, but she’s barely able to form her own because your hand is moving down, no longer holding onto her arm, and instead you’re cupping her ass, squeezing the flesh tightly and tearing a groan from between her lips. the sound makes your clit throb.

“always knew you loved my ass a little too much” abby breathlessly laughed against your forehead, kissing it a few seconds later.

“yes well, sometimes i want to bite it” your voice slightly shaky but you still managed to grin up at her. like she wasn’t currently deep inside your cunt and making you forget everything you did this week. 

“s’cute, one day” she promised, smugly smirking at your sudden gasp, her fingers still rubbing circles against your clit. “don’t know if you can handle all that though, pretty girl”

“can handle you now, can’t i?”

♱ soft and silly sex with abby, who continues to pepper kisses all over your face, pressing soft ones to your lips, seconds after she helps you through your 3rd orgasm of the night. fingers lightly trailing up and down your legs, nose brushing up and down your throat as you try to steady your breath. your fingers thread through her damp hair, smiling and giggling when her breath fans your skin. 

the sound of your heartbeat calms her, and the sound of her hushed whispered words into your skin grounds you. the safety her hold and touch brings you, makes you sniffle and bury your face into the softness of her hair. abby doesn’t have to say anything, sometimes she doesn't need to. her actions alone are words. so she lays there, body on yours like a perfectly weighted blanket, and her fingers trace patterns on your hip slowly, lips leaving soft feather-like kisses on your shoulder. “thank you” you’re quiet, tired, and still feeling like you’re on cloud nine. “and not just for tonight, for everything, for being so gentle and patient. going at my pace, always” you mumbled into her hair.

“you deserve everything, i’ll do anything to make you feel comfortable. m’glad i get to have you all to myself. to take care of you, i love taking care of you, and it warms my heart that i’m the person you feel safest with. that’s all i want. for you to be safe, and loved. because i love you, with all my heart” abby admits, lifting her head at your sudden sniffle, her words melting your heart completely, and brushed her lips against yours. “i love you”

“i love you, always”

[bywons]

✶ A LITTLE HELP — SJY

╰—— 𝗈𝗋 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝗅𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗒 𝗇𝖾𝗂𝗀𝗁𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝗏𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄

( ✶🪽𝓢. ) 𝗌𝗂𝗆 𝗃𝖺𝖾𝗒𝗎𝗇 𝗑 𝖿!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 g. 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿, 𝗇𝖾𝗂𝗀𝗁𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌 𝗍𝗈 ? 1217 𝒘𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 contains ! 𝗌𝗎𝗀𝗀𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾 (?), 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉, 𝗇𝗂𝖼𝗄𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗌 ✦ ◞ 𝒞 ATALOGUE?!

๑´ ³`) ﾉ pls leave feedbacks if u liked it ♡ REBLOG !!

“i mean your abs are pretty impressive, pretty convenient for a washing board though.”

an offended, loud gasp from just beside you, makes you giggle. the cardboard boxes rustle against each other, a few of them being opened up to take out your newly ordered white vases, which your helpful neighbour skillfully places among the wooden shelves.

meanwhile, you wipe off the dust and rearrange the little trinkets on the white showcase, occasionally admiring your handsome neighbours’ work.

“when did you see my abs though, are you lying to me, ms y/n?”, jake scoffs, putting the last vase on the shelf.

you giggle, finishing off your work on the showcase, “i think you're forgetting that our apartment complex has a gym, mr jake,” you walk towards him, an unexpected rise in your heartbeat, “last week.”

“was i on the bench press?”, jake smirks, before catching his lower lip between his teeth and flicking it outside. you don't know what he's trying to do with all that, but he is sure to make your heart beat faster.

“treadmill”, you correct him.

the proximity between you and your striking neighbour increases by the windowsill, where both mild sun rays and inquisitive pairs of eyes can peek in, but it's something that doesn't bother you. after all, sim jake is only here to help you, just a helping hand for you when you've decided to clean and rearrange your apartment.

you don't know how the helping part is kept aside for now, confused at how jake is staring into your eyes, a hesitant but longing step closer to you. he should've been helping you with the bookshelf now, stacking in the new books to the according racks.

but right now he is busy igniting new feelings to your heart.

jake is too close for your own good, left hand threatening to close in around your waist and pull you into such a proximity he has only imagined. he could smear that pink lip gloss of yours now, his hand on you and his mind all dizzy, it would be a perfect weekend for him.

and as he's about to accomplish that, when you swiftly glide out of his imaginary hold on you and pick up the new books to be kept in place, breaking your poor neighbours’ heart.

“that's too much work for a pretty girl like you,” jake was fast, you have to give it to him, well not only in pace but also incredibly fast to make you squeal inside, “i'll take them from ‘ya.”

“you know i can do that myself”, you scoff, leaning against the bookshelf as he snatches the basket full of new books, arranging them.

“yes ma'am”, jake sings, pulling out another giggle from you while he pushes the new books between the old ones, “but i'd rather do it myself you know? wouldn't want your arms all tired.”

you had enough time, strength and leisure to stroll around your apartment and bedeck it, a change of scenario and colours for your eyes, a break from the dust collecting shelves eyeing you from their constant spot. you definitely didn't need another flirty neighbours’ help who could easily pull you into a scandal.

five months ago when you first moved in here, you didn't expect a cheeky, lovestruck neighbour, jake, to knock on your doors every weekend. and even if you're not willing to talk, his flirting skills would find his way to your smile anyway.

so jake became a regular face to witness, a regular voice to hear and a regular touch that you wished would linger for one more second.

“nosy neighbours”, jake reads out the title of the last book on his hand, “ouch, am i a nosy neighbour?”, a dramatic hand over his heart and a fake pout made you giggle harder.

“shut up jake”, you roll your eyes, hitting his arm.

“actually i'd like to borrow this book from ya”,

“you read books too?”, you tilt your head in confusion, an eyebrow raised at his request.

“are you surprised?”, jake giggles, taking a step closer to you as he secures the book in his hand.

“of course i am”, you let out a hearty laugh, hands flying up to your face to cover your flushed cheeks, “i thought all you do is flirt with women and lure them into your apartment”, you tease.

“that's not very nice, ms y/n,” and he goes back to his unnecessary honorific and a dangerous smirk tugging at his lips, making you swoon, “i’m hurt to know you think of me like that.”

jake leans in until he's face to face with you, his hot breath tickles your cheeks and makes them bloom from inside. he's at it again, his infamous grin while he stares you down, his rosy lips are too close to yours.

“the only woman i want to take home is you”, he whispers, pushing a strand of your hair behind your ears. his eyes wander about to face, to your eyes to lips to neck to your eyes again, “do they kiss in the book?”

“no spoilers”, you whisper back.

“fair enough”, jake scoffs, his lips hovering over the corner of yours as he pulls you in by your waist, until you have to create a barricade between you two by softly pressing your palms against his chest. but jake doesn't really gives you what you want, he teases you, grazing his lips over the corners of yours and pressing a light peck on your cheek before pulling back.

he leaves you blushing and stunned, which he likes and smiles at.

“o-ok now i have a lot of work,” you hurriedly grab jake’s hand and begin to drag him towards the door.

“aww are you shooing me away, y/n?”, jake whines, walking the few steps to the exit on his own, “i was just having fun!”

“i wasn't”, you bite your lips, suppressing in a chuckle as you look at him, standing on your threshold.

“oh? is that so?”, jake's eyes widens, he's loving this little act of yours.

as if you didn't turn butter under his touch just a few seconds ago.

“yeah! now off you go jake, i have a lot of things to do”, you try to send him off, lightly pushing on his chest and he's quick to grab your hand.

he brings it near his lips and kisses the inside of your wrist, looking up at you he says, “why don't you come over someday? return my favour maybe?”

all the blood in your body rushes up to your ears and cheeks and you stand still before him, not knowing what to do when you slowly retract your hand. he's intoxicating and he knows it, even if you don't visit him, jake already has an excuse to return his borrowed book to see your pretty face again. maybe you should give it a thought, give him a chance? after all, you can't deny the fact that he does make your heart beat faster.

you clear your throat, “i'll think about it.”

jake chuckles, “you better, ‘want to lure in my favourite pretty girl”, he winks at you, a final blow before he quickly pecks your cheek again, “9:30, i'll be waiting, gorgeous.”

© bywons, 2024. do not copy, translate or upload any of my works without my permission.

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[angelsrcute]

DAY 1: Leona x GN!Fox!Reader; Jealousy sex + Scent kink.

Leona returned from training, he was all sweaty and couldn't wait to change. He would fall on his bed and never wake up ever again— he can only wish. As he reached his dorm building, he noticed you talking with another beastman— he didn't like how the guy was grinning ear to ear while talking.

Leona's pace quickened, his lion ears flattening against his head as he strode towards you. The beastman noticed Leona's approach and quickly excused himself, giving you a nervous glance before hurrying away. You turned back to look at him, a sly grin on your face, “Hey there, Leona, what's up?”

“Don't ‘what's up’ me, you know what you were doin’.” Leona's eyes narrowed as he gave you an irritated smirk. He leaned in closer, wrapping his hands around your waist as he lowered his down to your neck, taking a deep breath, “You smell like that fucker, i don't like it. Did you forget who you belong to?”

A faint blush coloured your cheeks, “I-I don't know what you're talking about— we were just having a friendly talk.” “Friendly? As if. That guy was getting too chummy with you.” A smirk tugged at his lip's, “Oh, better yet, I'll remind you so you don't forget again.”

Your head was held up by his hand while he was behind you, his lips trailed along your jaw to neck, leaving kisses and bite marks on your skin. Your face was flushed and sweat glistened on both your bodies, your protests were cut off as he inserted a finger in your hole, your hips bucking involuntarily against the touch, “Cat got yer tongue? Where's your big mouth, little fox?”

You whimpered as his fingers started moving slowly, you couldn't form the words to argue back. He pulled out his fingers and gave his cock a few strokes before positioning himself behind you, filling you up with his length. “S-shit…slow down— please..!” “You'll get used to it in no time, don't worry.”

Leona's hands gripped your hips, his claws digging into your flesh and leaving marks as he pounded into you. Your moans muffled by the pillow as you held onto it tightly, eyes are teary— the sound of skin slapping and your moans filled the air. God, you hope everyone's still training. He doesn't look like he's satisfied yet.

[lichenes]

Hi, could you do a young silco x nb! reader where they have been friends for years and have been pinning HARD on each other, and one of them(your choice idk who) over hears the other talking about how they feel, and basically, they are kinda forced into confessing...that kinda leads to smut with feelings..pleasethankyouso

Silco falls to his knees for you in this one btw. Just so you know. Tried to write the smut as gn as possible!! CW: vanilla sex?? nothing wild ig, no reader genitals mentioned, gn!reader, silco and reader being oblivious wc: 838 .  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚ .  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚.  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚.  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚.  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚

You stretched your body walking into the bar part of The Last Drop. “Morning.” You said to Vander who was preparing the bar for opening. “It ain’t quite morning anymore, luv.” You looked at the clock which displayed 7:30pm on the dot. “I couldn’t sleep all night...” You said still blinking back sleep from your eyes.

“Your shift starts in half an hour, by the way.” Said Silco appearing seemingly out of nowhere. “Clients don’t show up until like 10, relax.” You mused, a bit startled by his sudden presence, nevertheless happy he was there.  

You were dressed in your usual work clothing, nothing special, just a pair of slacks, a loosely fitted dress shirt and an apron meant to keep the uniform at least partially clean. You were wiping down the tables before more of the guests arrived, final touches as Vander liked to call it. You were the only person serving food and cleaning tonight so you had your hands full. 

Silco felt cornered. Mesmerised - he was mesmerised by you. Sitting at the bar and nursing a glass of whatever was cheapest, he purposefully ignored you. Were he to pay you any mind, he would go insane. Not an hour ago did he overhear you confessing your infatuation with him to your coworker.

“Okay, who is it then?” Said the newest addition to the staff. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop… truly, he was just about to ask you something menial when he heard his name being spoken. It rolled off your tongue with such adoration when you were sure he wasn’t listening. “I’ve got my eye on Vander…” Commented the girl. 

“Not my type.” Silcos heart beat faster. “You fancy Silco?” You hummed affirmatively, creating a memory for him, he was sure he’d never forget.

Vander waved his hand in front of Silco’s face, waking him up from the daydream. “You alright?” Silco’s face didn’t give away the whirlwind of emotions he was going through right in this moment. Although, he had slightly more colour in his face. “Yeah- listen.” He beckoned him closer. The bar, despite being quite loud, didn't offer enough privacy to say such things at full volume. 

“They said they fancy me.” Vander looked at him in disbelief. He then chuckled. “What, like you didn’t know?” Silco’s face went pale. He grabbed the bar’s edge. “Mate, everyone in the undercity knows this. The whole, you know, back and forth you lot have going on.”

Silco stood up. He was a calculated man. His actions were meticulous. Years of yearning. Months of planning a confession and that’s how he finds out the love of his life actually reciprocates his feelings!? He wasn’t following a script or a plan. “I need to find them. Now.”

You were taking your break in the back when Silco burst through the door. You smiled at him and just when you were about to greet him he closed the door and ran up to you. “Silco?” You questioned his erratic behaviour.

“...for years, and it feels like he doesn’t notice it!” 

He smashed his lips into your own ones cradling both your cheeks as he lowered himself to the floor, finishing his descent on his knees. You reciprocated the kiss, craning your head down so that he could stay close to you. 

You enjoyed the moment as much as you could, afraid it was to flee as soon as you separated. 

When you did, you put your foreheads together. Laughing slightly you looked at him and caressed his cheek with your thumb. “Took you long enough.” He then felt it, the hunger he suppressed for so many years. He dove back in, greedier than before. You moaned in surprise but welcomed it nevertheless. 

You battled for dominance for a moment, in the end he won. There never was questioning it. “I need you.” You managed to get out.

“I’ll make you need me even more.” 

You were resting your back on the door of the room which was locked to prevent people from interrupting your tryst. Silco had one of your legs propped on his hip, holding onto the neighbouring cabinet was the other thing keeping you upright. 

He was thrusting into you with vigour that was making you go cross eyed. Your arms around his neck were only adding to the experience, you needed him closer, right here - right now is all that counted. 

You saw white when he put his cold hands onto your most sensitive spot. A few circles is what got you to the edge and his blissed out words spilling from his lips - ‘come for me’ - for me. You’d do anything for him at this moment. 

And so you followed his instruction, causing his own orgasm after your own. He put his head on your shoulder when you both were basking in the afterglow. You brushed his bangs out of his face. His eyes were twinkling. 

“Tell Vander he needs to find a replacement for you tonight, I need you all to myself.” 

.  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚ .  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚.  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚.  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚.  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚ masterlist

[enhard]

choi beomgyu — “fallen leaves”

pairing: c.bg x fem!reader

: just a cozy day at the library, hanging out with your friend… suddenly it all escalating into something more intimate.

cw: SMUT, public sex, blowjob, m!receiving, masturbation, choking, face fucking, cum swallowing, a sprinkle of degrading also kinda getting caught during ittt ok bai

not proofread, enjoy! (MDNI)

getting into your dream college was obviously amazing, but you were super stressed about your upcoming exams, and having to study every single day was only caking up your cortisol.

luckily your best friend from campus, also your roommate, was always there to calm you down during those moments of stress. he either comforted you with your favourite snacks or had silly karaoke nights just to make you forget about lectures from time to time.

“c’mon gyu… let me read my notes again..”

“alright alright.. but one more song?”

well, this day was no different.

you have an important exam in two days and it is all you can think about. it’s quite literally eating at your brain.

“hey… can you.. drive me to the library.. i need to look through some things.”

“okay but, sure you don’t want a drink first?”

“i guess. if you want to. thank you dude. you’re the best” you smile.

beomgyu nods his head, walking to his closet to look through his clothes. the weather is just the perfect autumn. the leaves are coloured in such beautiful colours, and the weather is not too cold but not too hot.

he chooses what to wear, and finally you both get ready for this small outing. you leave the dorm, getting to your local café, ready to enjoy some freshly steeped coffee.

you insist on paying for yourself but he pulls out his card first.. so you sit down in defeat.

you sit a bit at the table, looking at each other face to face just chatting.. until you decide it’s time to get going.

you both grab the paper coffee cups to take with you to the library. it isn’t that far from the café, so you just go by foot.

once you get to the library, you instantly start looking around the mountains of bookshelves for the books you need, while beomgyu is sipping on his coffee giggling at your determination.

“you’re doing okay over there?” he asks.

“yes ugh i think i found it.. not sure though..” you say, already high up on the ladder.

inherently, you find everything you need, and you both sit down at one of the tables at a more reserved place in that big library, you didn’t want anyone disturbing your learning and beomgyu didn’t want anyone disturbing him from admiring you.

you sit down first, with your books in hand while he chooses to sit right next to you, quite close to you actually.

the sides of your thighs are touching but.. this was quite normal for you two already.

you start taking down notes, breaking up sentences to make them easier for reading while beomgyu scrolled on his phone the whole time.

after you were done with your notes, he sat upright to hear everything you noted down.. but while he did, he placed a hand on your thigh.

not that he didn’t mean to, he actually couldn’t say that he didn’t want to do that for the longest time now..

it’s just that he thought that you wouldn’t like it. but oh how you did.

he wanted to swat his hand away but you quickly placed your hand over his keeping it there. his eyes got bigger and his face got so red like never before.

“gyu.. i .. i like that.”

he smiles in satisfaction.

“oh really? you do? what about this then..”

then he slides his hand even further down your thigh, squeezing your inner thigh tighter and tighter.

“give me more.. please” you plead quietly.

he licks his lips, moving his hand to your crotch, dragging his hand up and down lazily. you grab onto his wrist, making him keep his hand there while you slowly grind yourself on his fingers. he slowly leans in to kiss your neck, leaving pecks here and there.

“you really wanna do this?” he whispers, his voice lower than usual. you slightly nod, knowing exactly how you were going to end this in a bit.

he couldn’t help but get needy seeing you so riled up like that, his erection coming without him barely noticing.. but you definitely noticed.

you smile, seeing that dent in his pants. that’s why you stop and take his hand away, slowly sneaking under the table to be able to suck him off.

this took him off guard but he couldn’t complain less. he had this bulge to take care of before you left and.. it was either this or he took care of it in the bathroom.

he slightly smiles at you under the table, and you grab his pants to pull his zipper down.

his zipper slides down with a bit of pressure, the sound slightly echoing through the quiet room.

you pull his boxers down just enough to take his cock out, leaving his pants on just in case.

you give him a few strokes, making eye contact with him just to signal him to keep quiet through this whole thing. then, being impatient, you finally let your lips have contact with his tip.

without moving down, you start by licking and sucking on his tip, getting to know how much he loves it by the struggle sounds he makes to not raise suspicions.

he starts whining quietly when you begin abusing his tip, kissing on the most sensitive parts. he slowly moves his hand down to move your hair out of your face a bit.

“hold..on.. what are..” but he can’t even finish his sentence. he just lets you continue pleasing him the best you can.

after getting enough of his tip, you decide to take him in slowly trying not to choke too loud. you bop your head up and down, hollowing your cheeks to give him the best head he’s ever got. you begin shuffling sounds out as he’s just watching you, and you think to tease him a bit.

you pull away, looking into his eyes again. “read my notes.” you say with a grin on your face while stroking him with your hand gently.

“what..? what do you mean?” he furrows his eyebrows. “you know exactly what i mean. let me hear you read the words out loud.” then you just get back to shoving him in your mouth. he releases the grasp on your hair to ruffle through the notes on the table, his hands shaking and all.

he begins to read the notes you wrote down, with somewhat high difficulty since his vision got blurrier than it was. his words flow smoothly until you start using your tongue on him again, licking at his tip and working your way down his whole length.

his keeps stopping in his sentences to leave out breaths and.. whenever he messes up you pull away for a few seconds. he whines again and again to make you keep going, but as long as he doesn’t say the words perfectly, you’re not stopping this torture.

“..fuck you’re such a whore.. just keep going ‘kay?” he whispers.

you leave out a thoughtful “mmm”, not knowing what to do with him after that. but you decide to do exactly what you want, and that being teasing him until he gives out.

you pull away again, fisting his cock as fast as you can. “read the notes faster, i don’t have all day hm?” you tease. he groans and just takes those papers in hand to try concentrating. you have him wrapped around your finger now and there’s nothing he can do.

as he’s continuing to read those notes, he really tries to do better this time… and you figure it’s a good idea to give his thighs a bit of love too. as you’re stroking him, you move your mouth down to pull a bit of that jean fabric down with your teeth, just to give them a few kisses here and there, moving down to his balls to leave small kisses everywhere.

you’re aware that someone might walk in right now but the adrenaline of those chances just make you want to continue, even more seeing him like this, you want to feel pleased too.

you slide one hand inside your pants, doing your best to circle your clit in this moment. you start slightly moaning around his balls, beomgyu knowing exactly what you’ve starting doing.

“such a slut for me… keep imagining those fingers are mine love.” he says, making you squeeze your thighs together almost squirming under him.

you start sucking him off again while shoving a finger inside you, wishing it was him instead. you knew all too well how this will escalate after you got out of there so you didn’t even have to worry. he succeeded in getting you so wet, if only he knew then.

you pull your hand away, resting it on his knee instead. you were gonna get your pleasure anyway.. one way or another.. and you knew he would totally be into it.

in between struggled words, he starts swearing and pleading to you, trying to make you slow down a bit.. to let him last longer. but you wanted to see him cum now, and you were going to let that happen.

he’s getting really close, especially with the pace you suddenly picked up.. but it somehow wasn’t enough for him. so instead of holding those papers in hand, he slid both his hand under the table to hold your head in place, while fucking your face to the pace he desired.

he doesn’t know what got into him but the noises you let out right then were inhumane. you begin choking again with your spit dripping down your chin, but you love how much he’s enjoying it.

he leaves out full blown moans in this quiet library not caring anymore if someone catches you. “im gonna.. ohh fuckfuckfuck” he freaks out. you let out a hum to let him cum inside and oh how he does. he cum in your throat, not even giving you the option to spit it out, not that you would anyway, pulling your head away to let you breathe. his cock twitching up a few times from what it just endured, but he swore from then on that it was the best experience of his life. you sit back up next to him, giving him a small peck for behaving so well through this.

“i didn’t know you were so into head pushing..” you laugh. “…sorry, i don’t know what got into me really..” he pouts.

“don’t worry, that was fucking hot.”

his breathing irregular and his forehead sweaty, he smiles at you showing you how satisfied he was.. but quickly his smile wipes off his face when he realises once again that you’re both in a public place. he even notices the convenient open door to the other part of the library that was packed with students from your college..

it’s safe to say that you never went to that library again.

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

Hi my lovebug for the kink requests can I please request; Billy Russo - Naked woman, clothed man & size kink? I have no other plot requests 💕 thank you so much!

Thank you so much for requesting! I rewrote this three times, I don't think it's any good but I hope you like it.

Masterlist

No pressure tags @danzer8705 @tortilla-chips-and-allioli

Climbing on the Cabinets

Contains: Size kink, naked woman clothes man, fingering, oral sex (m receiving) P in V, mild fluff.

1.3K words

Billy doesn't bother changing before he returns home from work, and it makes for a wonderful afternoon.

Billy had this horrible habit of forgetting that you couldn't reach the cupboards that he could, sure nothing you really needed or used every day was out of reach, but God forbid you needed something you used once in a blue moon. Today, it was the fancy rolling pin with plastic rings around the edge, and your inability to reach it meant your plans for pie were slowly falling apart.

"Need a hand?"

You flinched, and Billy chuckled. "How are you so fuck quiet?"

He shrugged and walked behind you, stretching his hand and picking up the rolling pin before placing it on the bench. When you spun to admonish him, you were greeted by the sight of his battle fatigues, his sidearm strapped to his thigh and all. "Did you come straight from an op?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I didn't feel like going back to Anvil." That wasn't like him, he always came home back in his suit or his simple PT gear unless something went wrong, but he was far too relaxed for that. "What?"

You shrugged. "I don't know.." You didn't know what words to use, he was a lot of take in, between the dark colours, all the weapons and his imposing height, it was hard to think. "Your outfit is a lot."

The bastard grinned in response. "Yeah, you like it?"

You blinked, he was an imposing man at the best of times, but dressed like this, he was downright intimidating. "If you were on my security detail, I wouldn't be scared of the bad guys."

He looked down at you quizzically. "That was a very diplomatic answer."

You nodded. "Yes, if I say I like it I'm worried your head might get so big it will explode."

Ever the charmer, he didn't let that get to him. "I wake up to you every morning gorgeous, ain't nothing more of an ago boost than that."

He wrapped his hand around your upper arm and yank you to him, taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger before leaning down to kiss you. His hands moved to push your dress off your shoulders, and he smiled against your lips before pulling back to take in your bare skin. "I fucking love these fucking sundresses you wear."

The dress was stripped off and left in a heap on the floor as he led you towards the couch, his hand in yours and a smirk on his face. He sat down and pulled you with him, running his hands up and down your thighs as you settled on his lap. His deft fingers unhook your bra, and then his large hands were grabbing your breast as he groaned. "I fucking love you."

His lips sealed around a nipple, and you gasped out a reply. "Are you saying that to me or my boobs?"

"Both." You wove your hands into his perfectly quaffed hair, and he sighed as you scratched his scalp. He tapped your thigh, wordlessly asking you to pop up so he could slide your panties down your legs. He looked you up and down, his face filling with lust as he slid his hand from your waist to your mouth. He rubbed his thumb on your lower lip, and his eye twinkled. "Suck."

You took his thumb into your mouth, and you felt him harden under you as you locked eyes with him. He popped his thumb from your mouth and slid his hand down your body, smirking when your eyes fluttered close as he made contact with your clit. The fabric of his pants was rough against your skin, and you could feel the indents one of his many holsters was leaving on the back of your thigh. He leaned in close, his lips finding your neck as he worked you towards the peak. Two long fingers circled your entrance before sliding inside you, and his teeth worried at your neck while your hips started to rock against his hand.

You swore you could feel the ridge callous on his trigger finger as he massaged your G-spot, but before you could fall into ecstasy, he yanked his hand away and sucked his fingers into his mouth with a smirk. "I want you to suck my cock." You scrambled to get on your knees as he stretched his long arms out to lay them on the back of the couch, looking down at you like a king on a throne. You rushed to get him out of his pants, slowing at the mess of straps and loops and closures that made up the fabric on his lower body.

He grinned and dropped his hand down to help you, placing it right back over the couch as you pulled him free. His head fell backwards onto the cushions as you took him into your mouth and grunted out your name as you lowered your head further down him. You could feel his gaze on you, and you looked up at him through your lashes as you pulled away. "Are you going to stare at me or are you going to fuck me?"

He pulled you up by your upper arms, and with a large step and a smooth, fast movement reminiscent of the way he would grapple with the Anvil trainees all be it much more loving, he had you bent over the arm of the couch. He kicked your legs apart, and you felt him run his cock up your slit. "You're so wet for me." He didn't give you a chance to reply, sliding home in one practised thrust as his lips fell on your upper back.

You dropped your head down, the air knocked out of you each time he bottomed out as he picked up the pace. His fingers skated from where his palm was flat on the middle of your back to your clit, and between his immaculate pace and the orgasm he had denied you before, it wasn't long until you could feel the end nearing, and he knew it. "Come on sweetheart, give it to me."

Your back bowed, and he pressed his clothed chest to you as his beard scratched your skin while he kissed the back of your neck. A moment passed before the waves of pleasure hit, and he groaned like you were squeezing the life from him as his pace faulted. He uttered your name like a prayer, and his hips stuttered with his release as you relaxed into the couch arm. He pulled away, running his hand down your back on his journey to tucking himself back into his pants and zipping them up. You heard rustling, and his vest hit the floor before you pushed yourself up and spun towards him. "That was fun."

He smiled and brushed away the hair stuck to your face. "It was. You good?"

You nodded. "I will be if we can cuddle for a while." He took your hand and led you to the couch, grabbing the blanket off the back and wrapping it around you as he gathered you in his arms. "You wanna tell me why you didn't stop at Anvil to change?"

He sighed and rested his cheek on the top of your head. "We had some NFL player come in wanting to hire Anvil for a party and I didn't want to play nice with a guy who kicked a ball for a living."

"Ahh, I see." You held back a giggle and took his hand in yours, bringing it up to your lips and placing a kiss on each of his knuckles. "Well, his lose is my gain."

He grinned and took your face in his hard, pecking your lips with a smile. "I love you."

You rubbed his nose with yours and kissed his cheek. "I love you too."

Fin

[starlitmelanin]

ᡣ𐭩ྀི never be like you; a.tchouaméni

pairing - aurélien x black!fem!reader

word count - 1.1k

warnings - language

summary - aurélien takes some pleasure in reminding you that your new man will never measure up. you hate that he's right.

you've been doing a good job, you think.

a good job of pretending you're over him, that you've moved on, that he's just another chapter in your past. you've convinced your friends, your family—even convinced yourself on your good days.

the new guy's nice. safe. predictable. the kind of man who buys you flowers on fridays, texts back within minutes, never makes you guess.

but that's the problem, isn't it? he's nothing like aurélien.

and maybe that's why you're standing here in front of aurélien's apartment, three knocks away from a mistake you've been telling yourself you're done making.

he opens the door like he was expecting you, that same smug smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, and he's wearing those grey sweatpants—the ones you once claimed made him look too good for his own damn good. it's like he knows exactly what he's doing, standing there with that easy confidence, like he's already won.

"figured you'd show up sooner or later," he says, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. "you always do."

you roll your eyes because of course he starts with that. "don't flatter yourself," you snap, even though you know it won't faze him. nothing ever does.

"too late for that, isn't it?" he steps aside, letting you in, and you hate how easy it is for your feet to move, for your body to follow him like it always has. the door clicks shut behind you, and it feels like all the defences you've built crumble with that sound.

"trouble in paradise?" he asks, turning to face you with that cocky smirk still playing on his lips, because, somehow, you always find yourself at his door when something happens with your man. "what is it this time? he forget your favourite colour already?"

"you're an ass," you mutter, crossing your arms over your chest, suddenly feeling small under his gaze.

"yeah, but you didn't come here to tell me that," he says, stepping closer, and you hate how your heart races when he does. "you came here because you know it, don't you?"

you hate this. hate him. hate the way he's always so sure of himself, so damn certain about where he stands in your life. "know what?" you grumble, trying to keep your voice steady.

"that he'll never be like me," aurélien says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "none of them ever will."

"you're so full of yourself," you shoot back, even though the words feel hollow, even though you know there's truth in what he's saying.

"am i?" he challenges, his voice dropping lower, that dangerous edge creeping in. "because every time you're with him, every time he holds you, you're thinking about me, aren't you?"

"no," you lie, and you know he can tell because he laughs—a low, mocking sound that makes your skin prickle.

"you're a terrible liar, y/n," he says, reaching out to tilt your chin up, forcing you to look at him. "and you know what's funny? you could've picked anyone. anyone in the world, and you chose him. him." he says the word like it's poison on his tongue. "like he could ever come close to what we had."

"you don't get to do this," you huff annoyedly. "you don't get to stand here and act like you're some gold standard.”

he leans in closer, so close you can feel his breath against your lips, the air between you charged with all the things you can't—won't—say out loud. "but i am," he murmurs, his eyes boring into yours. "and you know it. you hate that you know it."

"stop," you manage, but it's weak, half-hearted, because even now, even after everything, you want him. and he clearly knows that too.

"tell me," he presses, and there's something darker, more desperate in his tone now. "tell me he makes you feel the way i did. tell me you don't miss the way i used to touch you, the way i made you feel like you were the only thing that mattered in the world."

you swallow hard, your throat tightening. "aurélien—"

"tell me," he repeats, and you can see it in his eyes—this need to be right, to be the one thing you can't let go of. it's twisted, really, the way he needs this validation, this proof that no one else could ever take his place.

"he's good to me," you say instead, voice barely above a whisper. "he's kind. he cares."

aurélien's jaw clenches, and for a moment, you see something flicker across his face—something that almost looks like pain. but then it's gone, replaced by that infuriating smirk. "kind," he repeats, like the word's some kind of joke. "you really think 'kind' is gonna be enough to keep you warm at night?"

"maybe it is," you snap back, desperate to cling to some sense of dignity, some shred of control. "maybe i don't need you."

"you do," he says, so sure, so certain, it almost breaks you. "you'll always need me."

"you're wrong," you say, but the words catch in your throat, betraying you.

he steps closer, his hands finding your waist, and it's like every nerve in your body comes alive at his touch. you hate how familiar it feels, how right it feels. "look me in the eyes," he says, voice low, rough, "and tell me he makes you feel the way i do. go on. say it."

you open your mouth, but nothing comes out, because how can you? how can you lie when he's standing here, looking at you like he's the only one who's ever known you, who's ever seen you? and maybe that's the worst part—the fact that no matter how hard you try, no matter how many times you tell yourself you're over him, he's still there, in every corner of your mind, every beat of your heart.

"that's what i thought," and there's that smug look again, that knowing, infuriating smile that makes you want to slap him and kiss him all at once. "he'll never be me, y/n. and you know it."

"i hate you," you say, but it comes out weak, choked, and he just laughs, pulling you closer until there's nothing between you but the truth you've been running from.

"no, you don't," he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours. "you hate that i'm right. that's what you hate."

and as much as you want to fight it, as much as you want to prove him wrong, you can't. because in this moment, with his hands on your skin and his breath on your lips, you know that he's right. that no matter how many times you try to move on, no matter how many men you let into your life, none of them will ever be him.

and maybe that's your curse. or maybe... maybe it's your truth.

[lonewolflupe]

What The Future Brings (One-Shot)

This is a little gift for @kimiheartblade; happy birthday, Crystal! <3 I hope today will be better than the previous ones! Also I'm sorry about anonymously dropping into your ask box (and I hope you don't mind me writing something for you without asking, I'm a tad nervous about this, I haven't gifted any writing to anyone before).

Summary: when you clumsily hurt yourself, Echo is there to tend to your wound Rating: General Audiences Tags: hurt/comfort, fluff, bonding, SFW Words: 880 Pairing: TBB Echo x fem!reader (but can be read gen!reader) Read this one-shot here on AO3

The squad was almost ready to go, finishing up loading the Marauder for their next mission. It was mostly Wrecker doing the heavy lifting, working his thrusters off to get everything inside. You wanted to be helpful, contribute to the preparations being made, so you started pushing and carrying around crates.

A stinging pain when you scraped your lower arm against something sharp, protruding from one of the crates. “Kark,” you whispered under your breath, scolding yourself for being so clumsy. You weren't even engaged in battle and you managed to get yourself hurt.

You had gone back to aiding Wrecker when you heard Echo's voice. “You're bleeding,” he called at you, his voice a mixture of surprise and concern. You shot him a quick smile before replying: “It's nothing.” But as you did, you looked at your arm, and noticed the cut was deeper than you had realised. That was going to leave a mark.

He walked over and gently took your arm, carefully examining the wound. “Let me fix that for you,” he smiled at you. “It's alright, I've had worse,” you replied, your lips curling into a wry smile, because unfortunately, that was the truth. Tagging along with the Batch hadn't been without risks.

Echo chuckled, releasing your arm. “At least let me stop the bleeding. It's gonna be all over these crates,” he light-heartedly responded. The corner of his mouth was slightly raised into a smirk, and you noticed an amused flicker in his eyes. You finally nodded in agreement. He was right, of course; Echo always was.

He sat you down on a crate in a remote spot of the hangar, kneeling in front of you with a medpac at his side. You let your arm rest on your leg, the wound directed towards Echo. With a clean bandage, he stopped the bleeding. He put a bit of pressure on it, and shot you an apologetic look when you winced.

When the bleeding had stopped, he cleaned the wound with a cleansing fluid before applying a small bacta patch, nicely covering the cut. His touch was so soft, tender even; he made sure he wouldn't hurt you more than necessary. It was nothing like what you'd seen whenever he would patch up one of his brothers.

“There, that should be enough,” he cooed when he was ready, but he didn't stand up just yet. "Thanks for always patching me up," you smiled at him, and he returned it with a subtle smirk. "I really wish you wouldn't need it so much; but you're welcome anyway.”

He started rummaging through the medpac, taking out the empty packaging of the materials he had just used. You weren't ready for him to leave just yet, so you took the opportunity to keep him there for a bit longer; to keep him with you.

“Thank you, Echo,” you said genuinely, your voice soft and your eyes straight at him. He chuckled before replying: “Not a problem.” He looked back at you, and when he did, he noticed you staring right into his eyes. He abruptly stopped rummaging, instantly forgetting about the medpac at his side.

“No, I mean- Thank you for everything,” you continued, and slowly, you put your hand on his cheek. He was taken off guard by the sudden touch, and you noticed his pale cheeks colour a warmer shade. “It's, er- it's nothing,” he stammered, averting his gaze from you, but you gently cupped his chin in your hand and guided his gaze back to meet yours again.

“Not to me,” you whispered, and an affectionate smile appeared on your face. You slowly leaned forward and closed your eyes as you did, and finally let your forehead touch his. You heard Echo gasp softly, and after he regained himself, you could feel his weight slightly shifting forwards as he returned the gesture, leaning against you.

After a moment - you wouldn't have minded if it had taken forever -, you both leaned back again, and you noticed a smile on Echo's face you hadn't seen before; he looked happy.

Now it was his turn to put his hand on your cheek, and he gently caressed your skin with his thumb. “Thank you for everything,” he said in return, his voice low but kind. You knew he meant those words, but you didn't realise how much you meant to him; you were the bright spot within the squad's mayhem, the light at the end of his tunnel, a beacon in his darkest days. And you had just brightened that light for him.

The noises in the hangar brought you back into reality, and when you noticed all the crates intended for the mission were gone, you chuckled: “Looks like Wrecker finished up.” The squad was probably waiting for the two of you. “Yeah, time to head out, I guess,” Echo replied, scratching his neck a bit awkwardly before getting to his feet.

He offered you his hand, and you gladly took it. He helped you get back on your feet before the both of you walked back to the ship, and you noticed how he gently put his hand on your back. You smiled at each other before boarding the Marauder, ready to see what the future would bring.

Yes, I am a sucker for Keldabe kissing (in the most affectionate way)

Echo taglist: @covert1ntrovert

[softshuji]

𝟎𝟐:𝟏𝟗𝐀𝐌 | 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐈 𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐔

Title: Baby's Breath

Summary: Rindou wishes words were easier for him, but he loves you, and he's determined to show you, in the only ways he knows. Link to master list here! REBLOGS APPRECIATED!

cw: afab! Reader, mentions of sex, some suggestive content, reader and Rin are married, lots of kissing, petnames (pretty boy, Princess) some light praise, mentions of infidelity (not from rindou or reader), rin is a cute husband.

Rindou has never told you he loves you. 

The words are too thick and heavy in his mouth, the red colouring on his cheeks too apparent, especially in the way it curls towards his ears and neck. He wants to, of course he does, but he knows that the words are often thrown around, without merit, that simply telling you he loves you doesn’t prove the fact at all.

So no, Rindou has never told you he loves you and every time he thinks he’s coming close, the metal sheet slams down on his chest and the corrugated wall of his defences rises from his bones. It’s a mechanism perhaps, to shield himself from the things he doesn’t understand, the things he fears. He can never be hurt if he never loves, so why love anyone? 

Rindou has never told you he loves you, but he wakes up before the sun has fully climbed the sky to watch the weak and watery sunlight paint your skin. The clouds shift and cloak the room in darkness again and Rindou presses a feather-light kiss to your back, your shoulder, the hollow dip in your chest. His deft fingers tuck the hair behind your ears and you frown in your sleep and roll over, taking him with you as he presses his forehead, his cheek, to the place where he thinks your heart is. He smells the lingering perfume on your skin, hidden underneath layers of sleep and sex and resists pressing a kiss to your flesh again and again, wondering if you can hear that soft and unsteady drum of his heart.

When you wake, he makes coffee, leaving it hot in the pot as he dresses. He watches you fiddle with the jar of honey or jam and gestures towards it, relishing in the way your eyes trail down his biceps and shoulders as he pops the lid.

He holds back the smirk as he usually does. He likes that you think it’s a secret when you stare at him and lick your lips, and he flushes against his will, as he always does at your boldness.

‘Thanks Rinny,’ you say, your lips brushing over the corner of his mouth and Rindou shrugs as if it’s no big deal, his heart clamouring against his ribs. He wonders one day if he’ll get over it, if the novelty of having you as his wife will ever wear off. He’d have thought it would by now, five years into a happy and stable marriage, but he hopes it doesn’t. He hopes, as embarrassing as it is, that the excitement and wonderment of being your husband never leaves, that he’ll get to wake up to that new feeling every day, make love to you like it’s the first time every time, kiss you like he’s 19 again and there are endless springs ahead of you. God Ran would have a field day if he knew that. 

Rindou has never told you he loves you but he picks up flowers as he leaves work almost every weekend, scouring the aisles for chocolates and cards and sweets and when the cashier swipes him through she asks if it’s a special occasion. He replies that it is, that the occasion is just that he wants to show his wife he loves her. Even if he can’t say it, he adds it as a mental afterthought. And when he comes home, you run and jump into his arms and he pulls you close, inhaling the scent of you, pressing his face to the curve of your neck. 

‘These are for me?’ You hold the bouquet of forget-me-nots and daisies, baby’s breath and carnations, and your heart  softens as it always does. ‘Did I miss something? What’s the occasion?’

‘Can’t I just get my wife flowers?’ He says and pulls you by the hips till your chests are touching, lowering his head till his lips meet yours. Every kiss is passionate, tender, soft. His hair curls forward, tickling your cheeks as he bites down on your lips, his tongue gentle and tentative in your mouth, running over your bottom lip as his hands slide around you. 

‘I love you,’ you whisper against his mouth, and he kisses you deeper, harder in response, like a dying man given water in the desert. You know he’s smiling from the sudden flex of his jaw in your cupped palms and it’s all the answer you need. 

Rindou has never told you he loves you but he leads you to his studio by the hand, plugs the headphones in and watches your face as he presses play. It’s a sacred thing, this moment of yours, where he shares the thing he spends so much time on, the thing that keeps him up late some nights. But it’s very much worth it when you smile for him, your head bobbing in time to the beat, and Rindou blushes from his neck to his ears when you tell him how great it is, how proud he ought to be of himself. He says it’s no big deal, as if you hadn’t noticed the shadows under his eyes getting deeper with every passing hour, hadn’t noticed him chew on the end of a pencil as his brows crease in concentration.

It’s funny actually, considering the person he was before he met you. The kind of man who assumed that all he ever really needed in life was his brother to return home to, as if the silence of a penthouse wasn’t deafening and the tick tock of the wall clock didn’t constantly remind him of just how lonely he felt. 

I only need Ran, he’d say to himself over and over, a mantra, a litany, a prayer kept tucked under his pillow at night. He’d shift his hand towards the cold side of his bed, the linen unwrinkled, smooth and untouched, and even as he pressed a cheek against the cotton, something inside him would cave and he’d curl around a pillow and stare at a spot on the carpet, hoping to conjure some warmth for the prickling that settled along his skin, a sensation that no amount of alcohol was ever able to get rid of. He’d wonder, fleetingly, if he deserves such comforts after the things he’d done.

Except now, he curls around you, and his nose buries itself in your hair or the crease at the nape of your neck and the thin chain he wears kisses the dip between your shoulder blades, and he’s so close that you can feel his breath on your chin. And maybe, just maybe, in moments like that, he feels a little less lonely, a little less cold and even though that anxiety of being undeserving still punches a hole in his chest, he knows you’re there, a beacon as bright as the sun.

And you realize, as he murmurs against your skin, how long it’s taken to get to this point. That there was a time in which he’d shrugged it off, the kindness, the tenderness, the soft touches. When he’d flinched as you cupped his face and traced the cut of his cheekbones and lips, and you’d wondered at what manner of horrors he had seen to react to you like that. When he had tried to push you away and you’d refused to move, had still held out your arms for him to come back to when he was ready to accept that he deserved to love and be loved too. 

You turn around to face him and he frowns at you, at the cold rush of air that comes from the separation of your limbs tangled with his. You hold his face and press a kiss to his lips, the curve of his chin, his throat, your fingers brushing back the loose hair escaping his ponytail. 

‘You’re a pretty boy you know that?’ you say, your voice sluggish and heavy with sleep, your forehead dipping to touch his. ‘The prettiest boy there is.’

His lips part in surprise and you have the visceral urge to kiss him again and again again till your lips are sore and you’re entirely spent. You think his lips might actually be your favourite thing about him. 

He tuts under his breath and feigns annoyance, his voice tinged with embarrassment and when he says, ‘go to sleep Princess,’ it is with mirth and a hint of love, a pinch of the multitudes he has for you.

Rindou has never told you he loves you but his hand is on your back when you jolt awake at 3AM, clutching the sheets and gasping for air, your heartbeat so fast it makes you dizzy. When the nightmares are frequent and harsh and it’s hard to shake the terror of being out of control, Rindou is there, his lips close to your ear, a hand rubbing soothing circles against your skin. 

‘Shhhhh…,’ he says as you get your bearings, and you hold onto him, your fists tightly clenched with anxiety. His hair is still matted to his forehead, clinging to his shoulders and tufts stand on end from where his cheek has been pressed into the pillow. ‘It’s okay Y/N.’ 

His voice lulls you, and you focus on his heartbeat under your cheek, the tears free flowing and fast, and he doesn’t mind that you cry on him at all but rather strokes your hair till you sag against him again, your breath evening out as you’re pulled back into sleep, a murmured "that's my girl," that you cling to.

He won’t mention it when you wake, but the gentleness is there all the same. A hand on your lower back, a kiss to your temple, the softness in his actions all the more apparent. You like that he doesn’t bring it up, that he trusts you enough to deal with it in your own way, but is there all the same. 

And over time you've noticed the way he softens around you, how on guard he is with others, a snake poised and ready to bite, the tough shell melting away the minute you’re alone, the way he instinctively leans into your touch when you brush an eyelash from his cheek. It’s all so familiar, so comfortable. He doesn’t mind that you’re opinionated and strong, that you talk for hours but rather inclines his head in your direction as he listens, and his eyes pierce into yours with such intensity that your hands will fidget with the hem of your shirt and the hairs on your neck prickle with embarrassment. 

In those rare moments when you find yourself saying something he doesn’t agree with, he steps forward and silences you with a kiss and you’re torn between indignation and softening against him, and the latter always wins over and your hands will find purchase on the planes of his stomach as his abs flex underneath you and Rindou knows he’s won again, as he always does.

So even though the three words are heavy and thick in his mouth, and he wants nothing more than to have the courage and ease to say them, he can’t. Or rather doesn’t. He knows the words are often thrown around without merit or credibility, that it’s something anyone might say at any time. He’s seen it before. A man mutters the words against a woman’s neck as her legs clench around his hips, conveniently forgetting he has a wife at home he says the same thing to, and Rindou’s lip curls in disgust as Sanzu leads them through the club. Something inside him feels sick and nauseous and he blocks the sound of them out, focusing instead on the plush carpet underneath his feet and he thinks of you, and wonders if you’re waiting for him to come back home.

So no, Rindou has never told you he loves you, but he does. He really does, and he hopes you know it all the same, that his actions speak for him, enough to say what he’s too afraid to. Maybe one day he might have the courage to do so, he hopes that you wait and believe him till then.

a/n: I think I actually wrote this more than 6 months ago btw, but I was looking through my docs and realized I hadn't posted it yet. I'm proud of it even now, it's just so self indulgent and cute. I hope you all like it (and my love of course, for you!)

taglist: @reiners-milkbiddies @mxnjiros @islascafe @prettyiolanthe @sugusshi @snakegentleman @haitaniapologist @lonnie19 @nafarsiti @bejeweled-night-33 @ranscutedoll @the-travelling-witch @orchid3a @rottingreveries @qiiuusoup-xo @hoetani @sinfulseashell @welcome-to-the-internet-it-sucks @nikokopuffs @obitohno @tetsutits @burnishedcrown @sweet-seishu @sin-and-punishment @keiskyutie @mochimiyaas @theaonlax @bertholdts--butt (if you'd like to be added, let me know!)

[dwindlinghaze]

painted a picture

(remus lupin x artist!reader)

summary : for remus' birthday, you painted a portrait of him.

contents : tooth rooting fluff, remus is lovely, r is lovely

　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

a blank canvas was set in front of you, ready to be used and littered with colours. you had this brilliant idea of painting your lovely boyfriend as a gift for his birthday.

you had a few polaroids of him just for reference all scattered around your room. at some point you considered painting the two of you together, but you decided not to because you wanted to focus on him.

you started sketching out his face and features, not forgetting about his beautiful scars and imperfections. you love every inch of him. sometimes you wonder how can he dislike himself so much when there's nothing to hate of.

picking up your oil paints, you mixed a good amount of primary colours to match his exact skin tone.

once the base is done, you made darker shades to enhance the painting. starting by his jaw, you brushed a perfect amount of paint to create the realism effect. then coming up to his ears, then nose, lips, hair, and eyes.

you added every little details of his eye. you looked at them enough to remember the small things of his irises. his soft and welcoming honey coloured eyes that you love so much.

making sure you added every scars and freckles, you finally got it done, smiling to yourself in satisfaction.

the once blank canvas is now replaced by the face of your love staring back at you. you were sure if anyone ever fall in love with a painting, it will be this.

you didn't change any of his features, leaving it perfectly just the way it is. you can't wait for remus to see your work. you were so proud.

his birthday finally came, it felt like the longest one week of your life. you had swathed the canvas with a navy blue silk before wrapping it up neatly to present it to him.

"happy birthday love," you said, kissing both of his cheeks affectionately.

"thank you, dove. is that for me hm?" he replied, pointing at your gift.

you smiled shyly, nodding in response. you didn't know why you're suddenly self conscious. you were literally jumping around in excitement the day before to the point where marlene had to stop you before you ruined your bed.

you handed it to him, saying a small you're welcome after he thanked you.

"don't be shy lovie. you know i love anything that you give me," he said to you, squeezing your knuckles.

"i know... open it up c'mon," you urged him.

he did just like you said. tearing the paper carefully. "what's this?" he asked, holding the navy blue silk in his hand.

"open it silly, i'm cruel if i give you a piece of fabric for your birthday," you said.

he chuckled before unwrapping it, breath hitching when he saw what was there.

"d'you like it rem?" you asked, fumbling with your sleeves. his face was a mixture of emotion. he didn't know if he wanted to cry or smile.

just the idea of someone taking that much time and effort to express how he looks through art is something that would never cross his mind. how someone is willingly able to focus on his every features and details of himself. not only are you thinking of him but you memorise him enough to put him on a canvas.

"i'm sorry if it's weird i can take it back and if you don't like it i can repaint so you don't have to feel weird about-"

"i love it," he whispered, a shaky sigh escaping his lips. how can he not? you've dedicated your time for him, although he didn't know for sure if he deserved it. "you're- i don't-" he tore his gaze away from the canvas and look straight to your eyes before he lovingly kissed you.

when you pulled away, remus was looking at you with his lower lip quivering and teary eyes. "you took your time to paint me?"

"i love you, i'd do anything for you."

"i love you too..." he said, his eyes travelling back to the painting. he smiled, looking back at you again.

"i want you to know that i love everything about you. i painted every little details of your face, not leaving anything out because everything about you are so beautiful."

"you added my scars," he whispered. thumb running over them.

"that's what makes you so strong. i couldn't leave that part out," you said, caressing his cheek softly.

he was speechless. what did he ever do to come across someone like you? someone that accepts him for who he is. even he doesn't.

"i want you to put it on your wall as reminder that- that man is the face of my boyfriend, the only man whom i love so much and if you ever think of hating yourself, you're hating on him. that poor man who doesn't do anything wrong," you pointed.

he chuckled, squishing you in between his arms as he fought his tears from spilling out. "i will put it up my wall, just like you wanted," he kissed the crown of your head. "as for the latter, i'll try," said remus weakly.

"it's okay remus, it takes time to love yourself i know that, but i'm always here to remind you that you are loved by so many people. including me. you're so special," you smiled.

"i love you too," he said before he leaned down and kissed you again. he really wished he can say something meaningful to you to express how much he loves you but nothing came to mind because no words can ever describe the amount of love and affection he has for you.

"hey! i want my own self portrait too! pretty please?" sirius, who just walked in pleaded.

"you'll be dorian gray 2.0," you said, chuckling.

"hey i'm not at all like him!"

[didyoulookforme]

pov: you go to one of their gigs

old ramble written last year.

warning: 18+. follows no timeline. not proofread, so grammatical errors and typos.

masterlist here

not. this. again.

no matter how fucking hard you tried to keep it together, you somehow always found yourself crying over the same idiot, tall boy. for nearly three years now, you’d tried to shake off your feelings for george but at this point it honestly seemed impossible. you always fell for his attention even though you knew it was a sick, toxic cycle. sigh. you couldn't do this to yourself anymore.

it was mid october. you were at a venue in london waiting for the band to take the stage. george had asked (well, more like begged actually) over the phone for you to come to their gig that night even though you were drained and exhausted. "please. i miss you." you didn't know if his plea was sincere or not, but it made your heart beat faster. you hated to admit you missed him, too.

"fine, but don't count on me for anything after." you had worked 12 consecutive shifts to stash away some money as you wanted to do some travelling around europe. you were in your early 20's. you were supposed to have fun, get lost in random cities, take drugs with strangers, all of those things you saw on films and tv. while you loved london, you wanted to visit some places with a bit more colour to them and try to forget about him for at least a few weeks or so. it wasn't too much to ask for, right?

after he convinced you to show up, you figured you might as well try to make the most of your night out. you stumbled upon him and ross when they were out for a quick smoke, george quick to plant a kiss on your cheek followed by a tight embrace that lingered longer than expected. he was warm and, to your dismay, it made you feel warm inside, too. it seemed that every chance he got, he would touch you in some way, whether a brush of your arm, a hand on your lower back, a gentle grip on your hip. you tried to not think much of it knowing you couldn't afford to get tangled up in this mess all over again. you loved him (to some extent) but the sleepless nights and ongoing fights were not worth it anymore.

when the opening band finished, you made your way to the front to watch them perform from a closer spot. you had attended many of their gigs at this point and you genuinely fell in love with their music, albeit you wouldn't tell them directly. you had too much pride for such confession.

the gig started, the fangirl in you waking up and getting excited to sing along, forgetting about your exhaustion and lack of sleep. matty noticed you, giving a small wave and blowing a kiss in your direction before diving into the next song. while george was the one who unfortunately held your heart, you had a soft spot for the front boy, even having made out with him several times before just for the hell of it. alcohol and weed might have been involved, though...

after a few more songs, you couldn't help but notice the way george effortlessly played on stage, arms moving in calculated motions, messy hair swaying from side to side. he would look straight at you, wink and bite his bottom lip, which just made you laugh. he hadn't changed one bit. you remembered him doing this same routine at your place whenever he craved your attention. and george did it because he knew it worked like a charm. you had to admit it felt nice to have his focus on you, making you wonder if maybe, just maybe, the two of you could work it out again.

when the show ended and the boys went backstage, you managed to sneak yourself back there after 20 minutes or so, in hopes of finding them and saying your goodbyes. you kept opening every door to check if it was their dressing room, but you had no luck for a while.

you twisted another handle, opening the door and your heart sank to your stomach, making you feel instantly sick. in front of you happened to be your dear drummer with another girl's head between his legs. you were not quite sure which words left your lips, but they must've been loud enough for the both of them to turn around and take notice of you. this couldn't be happening. not. again.

you shut the door and quickly walked through the corridor, trying to find the nearest exit to get some fresh air in your lungs. not again, not again is all you could repeat in your head. you couldn't believe that somewhere deep inside your gut, you hoped that this could be the time that george and you kissed once more and went back to your flat together. why did you even think that would happen? and most importantly, why did you even want it to happen? not. again.

"fuck. i'm—i'm sorry." you were staring down at the floor which made you bump into someone. "i'm sorry." you kept apologizing as you made an effort to step away without looking up. you knew there were tears streaming down your face and didn't want anyone to see the mess you were at that moment. but you felt a tight grip on your arm and heard a familiar, warm voice call your name.

this is what finally made you turn around. "i'm sorry, matty. i can't..." you tried to break free from his grasp but he continued to hold on. "what's going on, darling? are you okay?" there was genuine concern embracing his words which made you cry ever more. not right now for fuck's sake.

you looked away, embarrassed at your state and not wanting to admit to him (or yourself) why you were uncontrollably sobbing. "hey. what happened, what is—" his voice trailed off as someone else seemed to be hurrying in your direction, calling your name, too. an exasperated george now stood besides you, breathing heavily. from running or coming in that girl's mouth, you didn't want to know.

"i've been looking for you everywhere. i can explain that," he pointed behind him, "back there." he was still catching his breath and it made you feel sick once more, taking every ounce of control to not vomit at that very second. the colour drained from your face as you started to shake, the tips of your fingers and jaw numb from a dangerous mix of anger and anxiety. he tried to grab your hand but you instantly recoiled, not wanting him to be near you, let alone touch you. "george, don’t.”

you saw as he nervously ran his long fingers through his hair thinking of what to say next. nothing. no words that came out of his mouth could provide any comfort, you were sure of that. you walked away, still trying to find the damn exit out of this hellish place. fuck george. fuck him for always pulling you in so close only to break you into one million pieces.

you finally managed to step outside, feeling lightheaded, heart still pounding in your ears. you found a dimly lit patch of grass and sat down, doing your best to focus on the cold air against your skin to try and keep him out of your mind. you felt so stupid. why did you think tonight would be any different?

great. someone was walking towards you. you stood up to leave. “please talk to me.” you turned to look at him. “please.”

“what do you want me to say, matty?” your hands covered your face as you continued to cry, not caring anymore if he heard you. you felt him inch closer, eventually putting his arms around you, holding you. “why does he always do this to me? why do i always hold on to his every word hoping that things will change? that he will actually want me.”

you felt his grip tighten around your shoulders. “he’s not worth it. he’s my best mate and i care for him deeply, but he’s not worth it,” he whispered into your hair. “please trust me on this one.”

all you could do was wrap your arms around him, yearning to hold someone close, to make you feel like you were for once safe and loved.

[hyunjins-goddess]

CEO!Chris X FEM!Reader

I SEE RED.

(MY FIRST BANGCHAN FIC RAHHHHHH 🗣🗣🗣‼️‼️‼️‼️ BE NICE TO ME PLS. I'm so nervous about this one, literally shitting myself because idek if I like this, but this is one of my fantasies lolololol Feel free to like, comment, reblog, scream at me in my asks etc about the new album Skz are releasing, I'm so excited asdfghjkl. IF YOU ARE A MINOR, DO NOT READ, I REPEAT, DO NOT READ.)

It all started with a conversation that took place the other evening.

And this, ladies and gentlemen, is why communication is key in a relationship. So if we dislike something? Voice it. Crossed a boundary? Make yourself be heard. Hell, make this a habit even if you've only just met someone.

And when you voice something that you do like? Equally important. Let them know that they're doing something good. Doing what, I hear you ask? My sweet little reader, I'll leave that up to your most wildest fantasies in that fascinating mind of yours.

But I digress!

One evening, you and your fiancè were sat at the dinner table. Well, he had taken your hand and propped you onto his lap as you both ate your dinner. With him working such long hours, (being the CEO of a huge talent agency mind you!) his favourite way to wind down after a hard day was just to have you close to him. One of his favourite past times would be to lay in bed with you, and listen to you read to him. For all he cared, you could be reading the dictionary to him, he just loved hearing your voice and having you close to him.

You were his safety net and he was yours.

You'll never forget the day you had returned from work, it had been a particularly gruelling shift, as you walked through the door Chris had appeared in the doorway. Upon seeing him, you couldn't help but break into a huge smile, your shoulders feeling less tense as he removed your jacket for you. "Hello, my love." He whispered into your ear, strong arms wrapping around your middle making you sigh as you let his familiar, warm scent envelope you.

"Hey baby," You whispered back, letting your head fall back on his broad shoulder as his face had nuzzled into your neck.

He had proceeded to let you know that he had ran you a bath, knowing how stressful your day had been, and he had taken your hand leading you to the bathroom.

He had undressed you, making little comments that had made you blush and chuckle, causing him to launch his dimples at you. Chris gently helped you in the bath and started to wash your hair, massaging your scalp and silencing your loud thoughts.

He then undressed himself, laughing softly as you made some saucy comments back to him. Then, he held you from behind, pulling you close to him. Caressing your body, trailing his plump lips across your naked back, causing you to break out in the most pleasurable goosebumps not only at the feeling, but of such the intimate act itself.

It were these things that he did for you, that just made your heart soar. Just made you believe that God Himself, had crafted him just so that He could show you what true love is.

Back to this little conversation:

So you were happily sat upon Chris' lap, listening to him tell you about his day when suddenly he nonchalantly mentioned:

"You know, I think red is your colour."

"Oh?" You replied, slightly taken aback, "Where did that come from?" You laughed, which made him giggle.

"I don't know, I just- Seeing you in that red shirt you've got on now, it really emphasises your features. Brings out your hair, skin tone and eyes!"

Such an innocent, sweet comment but by God did you have some sort of epiphany. It's like it triggered a switch within you and you silently hatched a plan.

And so, here you are, in the back of a cab on the way to make a surprise visit to your fiancè at his office.

You had never done anything this risky before, the thought of what you were doing was causing you to break into perspiration. You could feel it gathering in the palm of your hands but you couldn't ignore the heat pooling in your lower stomach.

Before you knew it, the cab stopped. Your heart rate had risen significantly as you smoothed down your beige coloured, long trench coat. You inhaled, thanked the driver, and exhaled as you got out, Louboutin heels clicking across the tarmac in such an aesthetically pleasing fashion.

Who knew that shows could even sound that expensive?

You couldn't help but have to refrain from giggling as you got through the revolving door, chewing down on your bottom lip as you walked to the reception desk.

The lovely receptionist broke out into a beam as she recognised you straight away. "Miss Y/N! It's so good to see you, how are you?

You beamed back. "Hey you! I'm doing really well thank you, how about you? How are the kids?"

"Ahh we're all doing well thank you so much for asking, they keep me entertained!" She giggled. "I'll buzz you up to Mr Bahng's office!"

There goes your heart rate again. "Brilliant, thank you so much! We will have to catch up over coffee soon!" You genuinely promised as you made your way to the elevator.

"Sure thing, Miss Y/N!"

You couldn't help but smile, after all this time she was always so polite and insisted on formalities, despite your insisting on first names.

As you got closer to Chris' office, your breath got shaky. No time to be scared now, bad bitch mode activated.

You opened his door and felt your knees almost buckle at just how sexy he looked:

Crisp white shirt with two top buttons undone exposing his honey coloured skin and strong neck, sleeves rolled up accentuating his gorgeous arms. His black tie has been undone and loose around the collar of his shirt. His eyebrows had been furrowed in concentration, looking over reports on his computer but they raised as he beamed when he saw you. You swore his smile was like looking into the sun and you adored when his hair was swept from his face, it focused on his cheekbones and straight eyebrows, and you gushed at his masculine nose.

"Baby!" His rich coffee coloured eyes sparkled and you grinned at how they crinkled. "I'm so happy to see you!" He practically jumped out of his hair and bounded over to you. "Can I ask why you have graced this building with your presence?" He giggled as he pulled you into him, securing you in those magnificent arms of his.

You let yourself melt into his warmth, wrapping your arms around his neck, you deeply inhaled the scent of his neck. Of cinnamon, amber and vanilla. Of home.

"I just missed you." You replied, smiling, and to that he squeezed you. After a little bit you released yourself from him. "You forgot your dessert aswell."

His eyebrows furrowed as he looked at you, you had to refrain from giggling as he tilted his head to the side in just the cutest way. "Dessert? I didn't forget it th-"

Oh but he was cut off. Because at that point you removed your trench coat and let it drop into a heap on the ground.

Revealing the sauciest, sexiest, most scandalous piece of lingerie you and I have ever seen:

At first glance it had the silhouette of a dress. It was a red lace push up bra with see through mesh, ending just at the top of your thigh. Through the mesh there was a matching red lace garter belt, suspenders attached to it making your thighs just look too delectable that Chris thought his knees were going to buckle. Just wait until he saw the g string.

Chris' pupils had blown out and his breathing hitched as his gaze ravaged upon, trailing you up and down. When he looked into your eyes, you felt your cheeks flush and you had to press your thighs together for friction as his tongue poked his cheek.

He walked closer to you, hands in his pockets, sexy smirk gracing his lips as you found yourself pressed up against the door. Oh his eyes were dark, they were almost black. And they were hooded. You could only describe it as the gaze of a predator on the prowl to its prey.

His hand reached over and slowly locked the door. He wasn't even touching you yet but the proximity caused you to let out a short breath and his smirk widened as his face got closer to yours. His mouth was so close to yours, you were breathing each other's air and you found your hips trying to rut up against his waist.

"Tell me one good reason why I shouldn't tear this off of you right now and fuck you up against this door." Chris whispered, nose tracing against your jaw and touching your neck. It was taking every fibre of your being not to let out a whimper, but you fought on, gently pulled him by the back of his hair to make him look at you. You smirked:

"Because baby, this was expensive and you haven't even seen it up close-"

You didn't get the chance to finish your bratty reply as Chris had suddenly gripped the back of your thighs and lifted you up in the air, making your legs wrap around as what you called his "slutty little waist." You laughed but couldn't help yourself rutting against his stomach, lightly gasping at how the ridges of his abs rubbed against your heat.

Chris smirked darkly at you as he set you on his desk, he stood between your legs and caged you with his arms at your sides. "You really are acting like a bitch in heat aren't you? Made your way over here with your little bad-ass trench coat on, wearing the sluttiest outfit known to man. And now you decide to practically hump me but that's absolutely fine with me cause' you're my little bitch aren't you-" The way his voice had dropped an octave, dripping with pure condescension had your toes curling in your heels and you just couldn't take it anymore. You grabbed him by his collar kissing at his mouth savagely, making him smirk evilly into your mouth at how easy it was to rile you up. Moans and groans were spilling into each other's mouths, your tastes mixing together into the most dangerous concoction, call it a Molotov Cocktail if you will. You can't describe the feeling of having his lips on you, whether it was your lips or skin, it set you on fire. And you were always ready to be burned by him.

His hands were all over your body, gripping at your flesh and you almost ripped his shirt off, you were frantic at the need of feeling his skin on yours. You were lightheaded at the feeling if his hot skin against yours, it was like he was sizzling and his scent had you in a chokehold.

He looked so devastatingly sexy when he was turned on: Luscious plump lips swollen and pink with desire, honey toned skin with a pink hue, almost like a sunset cascading down his body. Dark, intense eyes glimmering at you, daring you to challenge him. "Dessert huh?" Chris purred as his hands balled into fists, gripping at your suspender straps, tugging at them to part your legs wider for him. "Allow me to dig in."

He feasted on your pussy, like the man had just walked through the depths of the desert and was having his first meal in weeks. Swirling his tongue across your heat, he would be damned if he missed a spot. After tasting you, he fixed his lips around your clit, sucking hard yet slow.

You couldn't keep still. Your back was arching, you were fighting yourself to keep as quiet as you could, hips canting on his face. Your nails dragged across his wooden oak desk, it was like you were marking your territory by having your own markings across his furniture.

But you were marking it with your essence too, also dripping onto his face.

"Shit!" You tried not to squeal out as he grabbed your calves, shoved your knees up onto your chest so he could allow himself more room to devour your pussy. You couldn't stop yourself from latching onto his hair, pulling at it. Neither you or he gave a shit if it hurt his scalp. It was like you were possessed and this demon who was making your body contort, was certainly the owner of you.

He sat back, eyeing up at you as he gathered your arousal and his spit on his fingers, then slowly entered his two fingers into you, automatically curling them into the spot that had you seeing God.

But the only God you worshipped was Chris.

He then rubbed at your clit and before you could say "S Class", you squirted. Hard.

Your essence was all over him: His face, soaked into his shirt, dripping down the desk.

While you were trying to control the shakes of your orgasm, to get your breath back, Chris calmed you by pressing his lips along your body again, mapping you out for the umpteenth time. He massaged at your skin and you managed to lift your head up, only to meet a mischievous grin of his.

"That was so much, babygirl. I don't know why I have so much whiskey in this cabinet, when I could just let your cum drip into a glass, nothing compares to the taste of your puss- oof!"

That cheeky, sexy motherfucker made you sit up, energy restored, and before you both knew it you kicked your heel fairly strongly into his chest, making him fall back into his office chair.

With his legs spread, dick straining against his pants, you straddled him and hurriedly rid him of his belt. You were to desperate to take his pants off you both were, so due to your previous orgasm you didn't need to prep, you grabbed his cock and slid yourself onto him.

Chris threw his head back, closing his eyes and moaned out at the feeling of your wetness pooling around his slit, and your walls engulfing him. "Ahh, shit!"

Your back arched and hips jolted as your overstimulated clit brushed up against pelvic bone, letting out a soft whimper at how full he made you feel. "Be quiet Daddy, don't want anyone hearing you slacking on your work now do you?" You teased as you gripped onto him, slowly rolling your hips up and down, making him groan oh so sexily.

He glared up at you, jaw clenching as he gripped at your lingerie, nearly ripping it. "You think I give a shit? This is MY company, MY building, MY office. If anything, if you like, they can gather round in here and watch, let them get a briefing on how they SHOULD fuck their partners." Oh you clenched at how unhinged he was being with his words and how he was fucking up into you now. You moaned when he tugged you by your hair and bit down on your neck.

"Or, ya know, I could always shove my tie into your mouth to make you shut up if you're feeling too shy at the moment," He smirked into your skin as he smacked your ass.

"Oh fuck you!" You moaned out and dug your nails into his skin, scratching him cause him to hiss in pure pleasure.

"Oh but I am babe, I AM fucking you and I know you're about to cum with how much your pussy is clenching at me. Give me another one huh? Cum for your husband."

That did it. To stop yourself from screaming out, you sank your teeth into his neck as you came around his dick. At the feeling of your teeth breaking his skin and your pussy pulsating around him, Chris pulled at your body tight to his as his thick cum squirted into you with a deep groan of your name.

You both held onto each other, breathing heavily as you calmed each other down. He softly kissed at the marks he made on your skin, squeezing you as if to apologise if he went too far. You ran your fingers through his dark locks, cradling his head to your body as you whispered "I love you's" into each other's skin.

Chris looked up at you lovingly as he rubbed your body. "So...what colour are you gonna go for next? Cause this red on you nearly made me call for an ambulance, black, I'm going into cardiac arrest."

And that's that guys, let me know what you think! Thank you so so much for reading, I really hope you are well and taking care of yourself!! ✨️🩷✨️🩷

[obsessivestar]

'What If It's All A RomCom?' - a Ted Nivison x Reader

{{-Haha remember when I said the next few chapters might be a lil' smaller cause I'm taking my time? Lol this one is another big one SORRY NOT SORRY welcome to chapter 12-}}

//General Warnings: 18+ Fic (MINORS DNI), Reader implied to be afab and under 5'5

Chapter Warnings: More Hamilton References, bit of makin' out and ooh thigh riding??? You're Canadian now sorry (you're barely Canadian) AYO AND SCHLATT AND TUCKER ARE HERE\\

Word Count: 4.5k

☆▪︎▪︎▪︎Taglist!▪︎▪︎▪︎☆

@k-k0129 & @callsign-scully

☆Love Ya To Death!☆

Chapter 12: I'm Satisfied

The photoshoot was a lot more complicated than I thought it was going to be, at least for Ted and I. For practice, Tanner got Dan and Joe in front of the camera, using them to figure out what angles, backdrops and lighting worked best. Tanner even got in front of the camera for a bit, knowing he already had his own headshots. Dude just wanted to have fun, and honestly, it was a lot of fun being in front of that camera. We had music playing, we got to feel like hot, important models and got to see the raw shots afterwards.

Ted and I went through so many different outfits for the shoot, taking photos together and apart. One thing that messed me up a bit at first was all the flashing from the camera, but your eyes eventually get used to it. Tanner had us wearing contrasting colours whenever we took solo shots, but had us wearing warmer colors when in front of the camera together. When taking pictures on our own, we gave simple smiles and somber looks into the camera, following it as Tanner changed the angles, unless Tanner directed us to look away of course. We all took turns suggesting music for our respective photoshoots, until Tanner had the odd idea to put on the entire Hamilton soundtrack when we all ran out of songs to drop, though that made keeping my mouth closed for the photos a little harder. I'd be mouthing certain lyrics excitingly, getting an occasional friendly scolding from Ted. Sometimes he'd have to straight up cover my mouth to get me to stop, until the soundtrack got to 'Satisfied', where he surprised me by joining in.

'You strike me as a woman who has never been satisfied.'

'I'm sure I don't know what you mean, you forget yourself.'

'You're like me, I'm never satisfied.'

'Is that right?'

'I have never been satisfied.'

This is where I learn there was a particular couple weeks where Tanner had forced Ted to learn part of the soundtrack for reasons they both refused to admit to me, but man did Tanner get some good shots because of it. One particular shot really warmed my heart to look at the first time. Ted was supposed to simply hold my waist with one hand, but I just wouldn't stop singing or at least mouthing lyrics, so Ted gently placed a finger over my lips to make me close them. Ted and I had been relatively careful with how we acted in front of regular members of the film crew, but in this moment, it was like it was just the two of us. His dark eyes sparkled down at me, a genuine warm smile across his blush toned lips. I smiled back at him, feeling his hand slowly fall from my lips to take my hand in his while his other hand snaked around my waist to rest on my lower back. It was...personal, intimate, but brief. A shame it was so brief.

We looked over all of the good shots once Tanner gave us the O.K. to relax and take a break. God, did we look good. I hadn't even felt the flashing from all of the pictures Tanner had gotten once Ted had touched my lips, but they were perfect. All of them were perfect. "You guys gotta recreate that one next week, in your ball wear." Tanner suggested with a proud smile.

"Ball wear?" Ted repeated with a humorous smile, looking at Tanner with a raised brow.

"Like, a royal ball. Our dream outfits." I clarified for him, placing my hand excitingly on Ted's shoulder before addressing Tanner. "Tanner, I'm gonna need all of those photos. I need them."

"Oh yeah, you'll get them." Tanner nodded at me a little. "Dan's gonna start editing them as soon as we clean up."

"Yeah, I need that one. Could be my lock screen." Ted points at the camera when it shows the shot of his arm around my back and our hands intertwined. Fuck, this man makes my chest flutter so easily, its maddening. I look at him after he says that, taking in his warm but eager expression as he continues going back and forth with Tanner about next week. Anytime I get to share a glance or contact with Ted, I feel happy. I feel validated. I'm...satisfied.

Dan and Tanner went upstairs with the camera to start editing the photos on their PC's. Hell, Tanner moved his PC into Dan's room so they could work side by side. It looked a little funny when we went back later to check on them. With the remainder of the day, Joe cleared most of the living room and began to go through the dance sequence with Ted and I, as well as some spare members of the wardrobe team that volunteered to be extras. He went through some ballroom dancing basics with us, essentially teaching a mini masterclass on royal etiquette. We quickly figured out that I'd have to wear heels for my dance with Ted, he's just so tall and it would look better if I was a bit more at his eye level. He made sure to tease me about my height any chance got, and I made sure to ''accidentally'' step on his feet a few times in response. He may call me princess, but I'm a brat at heart and I know he likes it.

Once the sun began to set, we called it for the day, with Ted and I moving upstairs together as members of the film crew packed up and left. We headed into his room for now, though we'd be filming the podcast in separate rooms later on. Ted casually took off the orange shirt they had made him wear, moving to his closet to put on an old looking white shirt. I shamelessly glance over his bare back before he covers himself, a knowing smile spreading along my face. I can't believe I have such a fine man wrapped around my finger.

"I don't know about you, but I'm feeling pretty fuckin' royal right now.." Ted commented with a humorous smirk, moving to sit at his computer chair. I decided to sit at the edge of his bed, letting out a little laugh.

"You feel royal in your..." I pause to look down at the shirt he had chosen, raising a brow with a slight chuckle. "...weird lookin' baseball shirt from 2004."

"Hey, I look great in this shirt." Ted pointed at me with a knowing smile. "Tucker's gonna be happy that I'm wearin' it; Schlatt, not so much. He's already been drinkin' a little tonight so I know he's gonna be poking at everything."

"Everything?" I repeated, smiling a bit more. "Even me? Should I be worried?" I decide to ask, shifting a bit on Ted's bed. I could've worded that better. I wasn't 'worried' about him perse. I've watched an episode or two of the podcast so I have a relative idea of how he is, I just can't help but wonder how he's going to be with me there, knowing what he knows.

Ted pulled up Discord, letting out a sigh instead of responding right away. His silence made my smile falter a little, crossing my arms in front of my chest. "Alright look, Schlatt isn't....really an asshole." Ted answered after a long pause, turning in his chair to look at me. "I talked to him and Tucker a bit about this earlier, he knows what line not to cross."

"You've already talked to them?" I ask, raising my brows at him. "When?"

"While Tanner was takin' your photos. I didn't get into anything huge, just gave em' a quick rundown of, uh....how us happened." Ted admitted with a little shrug. "I already said this morning that he'll probably make some comments, he may even...dance around that line a little, especially if he's provoked. Tucker and I do it all the time."

"Yeah, you do.." I manage to let out a little laugh.

"But at the end of the day, he's one of my best friends; they both are. He's not gonna lose it. He knows I don't want anythin' out there, so he won't put anythin' out." Ted's reassurance definitely helped any last-minute nerves I may have been feeling. Plus, I'm sure if anything slipped out, it could be bleeped or cut out entirely. They've done it before. "I mean, pfff, he might flirt with you to throw people off." Ted spoke again with a shrug, turning back to his computer screen. "He's been wantin' you as a guest for a while."

"Wait, really? Really???" I furrow my brows and let out a surprised laugh, sitting up more on the bed. "You're fucking with me. Schlatt knows of me?"

"Yeah. He wanted to try to get at least you and NakeyJakey as guests before the end of the year."

"What the fuck??" I find myself laughing even more at how outrageous this all sounded, though I 100% believed Ted. I just couldn't really believe it. It seems like all of MY friends knew Ted and all of HIS friends knew me, yet WE only met a week ago. Small world. Smaaaaaaall fuckin' world. "I never got any messages or anything! I totally would've said yes!" I manage to speak after coming down from my laughter, standing up from Ted's bed.

"He might've tried to reach you on Twitter if your Discord isn't available.." Ted admitted, typing in what appeared to be a groupchat, probably the one with the chuckle guys.

"Ooh, yeah, I...stopped using Twitter." I reply somewhat sheepishly, raising my shoulders a bit.

"Understandable, honestly." Ted turns his chair to me again after sending a message, giving me a warm smile. "Anyways, do you wanna be in the room with me, or record in your room? I'm good with either." I notice Ted's gaze linger down a little before meeting my eyes again, making me raise a curious brow at him.

"Are you good with either?" I ask with a knowing smile, crossing my arms in front of my chest again.

"Well, I mean, it'll be hard not to touch you if we're in the same room.." Ted gives me a mischievous smirk, leaning back against his chair and spreading his lap out a bit.

"Oh? That's your concern, mm?" I let out a little hum, moving forward to carefully climb into Ted's lap, straddling it with my knees resting at each sides of his hips.

"Mhmm, it's gettin' harder bein' away from you.." Ted purrs back at me. I feel him snake his hands around my waist, gazing up at me with his half-lidded eyes.

"Well yknow, I could just...do the podcast right here.." I bring my hands up to his chest, picking at the white shirt before smoothing my hands up to rest on his shoulders.

"Oh yeah? With the camera on?.." Ted raised his brows at me, sitting up a bit more in his seat. "Is this how we're gonna reveal it? You in my lap, giving me bedroom eyes?..."

"Is the camera on?.." I feel a faint blush appear on my cheeks, bringing one of my hands up to touch my face as I look at his setup.

"No, do you want it on?.." He gives me a suggestive little grin, his eyes glancing down at me once more.

Oh, I know what he wants...

I smile down at him warmly as I lean in close, closing my eyes as I connect our lips in a gentle kiss. Ted kept his hands around my waist as he returns the kiss, slowly moving his lips with mine with a low hum. His growing stubble lightly rubbed along my face when he begins to deepen the kiss, pulling me more into his lap by my hips. My hands reach up to cup his stubbled cheeks, tilting my head into the warm, almost antagonizingly slow kiss. When I hear a quiet, dark sounding moan leave Ted, I instinctively angle my hips in response, a quiet gasp leaving me when I realize I've straddled one of his thighs. My inner thighs begin to feel warm against his leg, making me slowly rock my hips back and forth against him. He chuckles lowly in the kiss in response, listening to my quiet, needy sounding moans in his mouth. I feel his hands sneak their way under my shirt, opening his mouth more in the kiss to slip the tip of his tongue along my lower lip. I try to pull him in more by his face, my hands moving around to grip into his tall, dark hair. His lap feels so good to grind against, his tongue is making our kiss sloppy and arousing, we're moaning and growling at each other, I'm getting warm and tingly all over, I feel like we can't stop....

Until the Discord Call Notification starts blaring from Ted's computer.

We both flinch pretty hard and pull back from the deep kiss, stopping everything that we were doing. We both let out shaky, breathy little laughs as Ted turns the chair towards his desk. "It's just Schlatt, hold on.." Ted spoke, taking a deep breath. He kept one hand on my hip, moving the other around me to take his mouse into his hand.

"Should I get off?" I manage to speak out after catching my breath, still panting against his chest a little.

"Nah, not yet." Ted replies simply. "He's just checkin' on me, makin' sure you're good to go. I'll tell him 10 minutes, hold on."

"Y-You're gonna answer?"

"Yeah, I'll keep my camera off, hold on, stay."

"Ted, I-I don't--"

"Shh. Stay."

I feel Ted's hand snake around to push me more into his lap from my lower back, keeping his grip on me. Most of my body is now pressed against his, my hands are tucked in front of my chest. Before I can think about protesting again, Ted answers the call, so I close my mouth to stay as quiet as possible.

"There he iiiiiiiiss.." Ted spoke into his mic with a big smile, despite not having his camera on. I turn my head to see Schlatt in his usual setup, sporting a grey hoodie with the hood up, his headphones strangely on over the hood itself.

"There I am? Where are you?" Schlatt narrows his eyes at the screen, sitting back on his chair. "Your camera die again?"

"Nah, it's not dead, just not turning it on till' we start." Ted shrugged a little, making me smirk against his chest.

Well, If he really isn't gonna turn it on, I can still have some fun...

"Damn, did the Canadian's get to ya?" Schlatt cackled a little, resting his hands behind his head. "Does Tanner have you wearin' fuckin...red flannel n shit? That's all they wear, right? Got ya lookin' like a fuckin' lumberjack?"

"I'm not even in Canada, dude." Ted chuckles with a little shrug. "I'm, like, an--an hour away from my-my house."

Ted's tone softens and he starts to stutter a little when I begin to trail little kisses along his neck, making sure to keep quiet so they wouldn't be picked up by his microphone.

"Yeah, but Joe and Tanner are Canadian, ain't they? Ain't they involved?" Schlatt asked with a raised brow, lightly scratching at one of his mutton chops.

"Well yeah, but--" Ted's eyes flicker closed as I nibble at his thick Adam's apple, finding a little spot along his throat to suckle on gently. I feel Ted's hand grip my hip a little tighter; a warning grip, one I choose to ignore.

"But...they're doin' good. I've been having a lot of fun.."

"Aaaaaaah, riiiight.." Schlatt cackles again, leaning forward in his seat. "Fun, eh? Ya happy, Ted? Ya happy ya finally got to hit it?" A big, knowing grin spreads along Schlatt's face, nodding slowly. I was smiling just as big as Schlatt was, moving my little kisses up to Ted's ear.

"Yeah, Teddy.." I whisper softly into Ted's ear, nibbling a little at the edge of it. "Happy you finally hit it?.."

Ted lets out a quiet huff and removes his hand from my hip to move it up to the back of my head, taking a fistful of my hair.

"Hit what?"

With a good tug, he pulls my head away from his ear and forces me to look at him. I'm smiling like a fool, chuckling quietly at how flutered Ted already looks.

"Ohhhhh don't fuckin' toy with me, dude!" Schlatt let's out a mocking laugh, smacking one of his hands on his desk. "You have been talking non-fucking-stop about (Y/N) ALL WEEK! ALL FUCKIN' WEEK, MAN! Tucker was tellin' me everythin' earlier! How does it take you over a year to pull this girl?"

Ted leans his head back and rolls his eyes, a clear embarrassed smile on his face. He looks at me, still keeping my head still by my hair and mouths 'I'm gonna kill him.', making me giggle quietly. "Ok, I have her now, don't I?" Ted faces his computer again with a little shrug, glancing at me briefly. "I figured it out in the end."

"Aaah, I'm just fuckin' with ya, dude. Just excited for ya." Schlatt playfully scoffs, shaking his head a bit. "If you're happy, I'm happy. She seems good for ya."

I see Ted relax more in his chair and he lets go of my hair, looking down at his keyboard with a genuinely warm smile. It makes me smile too. I didn't realize that Ted had been pining for me for this long. I mean, Joe's wedding was almost 2 years ago. Has he really been thinking about me for almost 2 years? "...but seriously, why isn't your camera on, man? Are you ready or what?" Schlatt speaks up again after a pause, crossing his arms in front of him.

"I'm almost ready, just need about 10 minutes." Ted answers plainly, moving his mouse to hover over the hang-up button. "Is that alright?"

"Yeah dude, 10 minutes is good."

"Alright, great, call ya back."

"Make sure you add (Y/N) in."

"I will."

"She gonna be cool about me?"

"She's probably gonna fuck with me, with you."

"Greaaaat! Love her already! See ya soon!"

"Yep."

"Alright."

Ted hangs up the call and let's out a sigh, shaking his head a little before looking at me. "You little fucker.." Ted snickers a little at me. "You're lucky we don't have time for a quickie.."

"I think I'm unlucky if anything.." I reply with a little giggle, fixing up my hair with one of my hands. "Ya sure we can't do a lil' bit?.."

"Oh no, I'd need more than 10. I like to take my time with you.." Ted shakes his head at me with a little smirk, leaning in to kiss my lips once more with a content little hum. I smile against his lips, bringing my hands up to cup his face again. The kiss is brief, but I felt satisfied with it. I thought about what Schlatt had said, that Ted had been trying to 'pull me' since Joe's wedding. I wanted to get more information on that, but decided to leave it for now. I wouldn't want to try and sneak it in the podcast, unless Schlath decides to bring it up, but I feel like the more Ted and I say we're together, the more I want to know about it all. There's a mystery around it that I don't understand. It feels like everyone has the right context but me.

I reluctantly moved off of Ted's lap, getting one last little kiss on the back of my hand from him before I exited his room to move into my own. I didn't have as much of a professional PC set up as everyone else staying here did, but it was good enough to record with. I sit in front of my PC and begin to set everything up, putting my headphones on and making sure my mic was all set up before opening Discord, seeing that I had already been added to the group chat. I smile excitingly to myself as I message everyone that I'm good to go, making sure botj ofmy cameras are clear and charged before hearing the Discord Call jingle play, seeing Ted and Tucker hop in with Schlatt.

I take a deep breath, triple check everything and enter the call.

"AAAAAAAAAAYE THERE SHE FUCKIN' IS!" Schlatt is the first to speak up, blasting everyone's ears with an excited cackle while clapping like an absolute buffon. "THERE SHE FUCKIN IS!"

"Holy shit, she's real!" Tucker chimes in, wearing a green sweatshirt with the word 'Loon' in big bold letters. "Ted, your Canadian girlfriend is actually real. That's crazy."

"Wait, you're actually Canadian? That's not a joke?" Schlatt placed a hand on his mic to adjust it, already furrowing his brows at me.

"Ok hold on here. I'm, like, barely Canadian." I clarify, holding my hands out a little defensively. "I was just born there. I grew up in Washington."

"Nope. Still counts. You're not cool anymore." Schlatt shakes his head, his usual sarcastic tone taking him over. "Sorry Ted, she's not cool anymore."

"Uh, she's pretty fuckin' cool, actually." Ted clarifies in a defensive tone, adjusting his own mic.

"I pulled out my Loon shirt for the occasion." Tucker chimes in, moving a bit in frame to reveal that the bottom of the shirt had some actual loons on it, making me lean back in my chair and laugh. "These guys are on your coins, right?" Tucker asked with the most genuine smile on his face.

"They're not MY coins! I grew up in Washington!" I laugh, shaking my head.

"Nah, If you were born there, you're already tainted." Schlatt replies plainly.

"She's fiiiiiine, don't be like that.." Ted playfully whines at Schlatt, tilting his head a little.

"What the fuck is with you and Canadians, anyways?" I decide to ask, crossing my arms in front of my chest.

"There's just something about you guys, I don't know. Buncha liberals." Schlatt crosses his arms as well, as if to mock me. "Buncha do gooder liberals."

"We haven't even started the episode yet and Schlatt is already deep into character." Tucker grins a little, a dark chuckle leaving Ted as Schlatt and I continue to bicker back and forth.

"Are you mad that they're nicer than y'all? I don't get it."

"I'm not mad. Maybe--Maybe I AM mad. I'm gettin' mad."

"Is it the free healthcare that tips ya off?"

"I'm rich, I don't give a fuck about your free Healthcare."

"You keep saying 'your'. I'm not Canadian."

"You look Canadian."

"Okay, I don't consider myself Canadian."

"I consider you to be Canadian."

"I wasn't even there for a full fucking year."

"Don't care. You just have this liberal Canadian vibe, I don't know man."

"Okay, and you have this Alabama sister fucker vibe, can we start the episode now?"

Ted and Tucker erupt into laughter, with Schlatt and I eventually chiming in as well. We're all shifting around in our respective chairs as we laugh out, holding our chests, rubbing under our eyes, clapping weakly, taking in steady breaths and everything. I knew it was all in good fun.

"Okay okay! I like her again!" Schlatt cackles, sitting up more in his chair.

"Are we all ready now? Have we gotten everything out of our system?" Tucker asks, still chuckling a little from my comment.

"I've been ready. I've just been enjoying this little pre-show." Ted admits with a snicker, adjusting his headphones on his head.

"Yeah, I'm recording a little already so it's up to you guys on when we start." I speak up as well.

"Did you get all that? That whole back and forth?" Tucker asks me, still smiling all big.

"Abso-fucking-lutely I got all that!" I reply with a chuckle, shifting in my chair.

"Alright alright, on 3, we'll start." Ted nods a little, moving his hand down to his keyboard.

"Wait, can I start the episode?" I ask with an eager grin, holding my hands up in front of my chest.

"You mean say the line before the theme song? 100%, you have my permission." Schlatt agrees with a grin, moving his hand down to his keyboard as well.

"Yeah, I'm totally fine with that. Make it a good one." Tucker adds.

"But don't add your Canadian-ness to it." Schlatt speaks with his sarcastic tone again.

"If it'll get you to stop bitching about Canada, fine." I roll my eyes and shake my head, getting another cackle from Schlatt.

"Ya picked a good one, Ted. Ya picked a good one."

"Alright. 3, 2, 1.."

After everyone counts down from three, I see everyone hit a key on their keyboard and shift a bit in their seats, indicating that recording had begun. "Wait a minute, your background is different, Ted." Schlatt speaks up again, furrowing his brows at his computer screen. "You said you were an hour away from home. Is that true?"

"That is true, I am not currently home." Ted nods, resting his hands in his lap with a grin. "I'm at, like, a beach house or somethin', I don't know. For the project I was tellin' you about."

"Ah, you're finally livin' around your means. Finally stopped bein' fuckin' modest." Schlatt spits a little, nodding his head as he speaks. "How big is it? Who's all there?"

"There's, like, 5 of us here." I add with a little smile. "Tanner, Joe, Ted, Myself and a guy named--"

"Wait, you're both in the same house right now?" Schlatt loudly cuts me off, sitting up more in his seat with narrowed eyes glued to his screen. "What the fuck?"

"Yeah, she's in the room next to me." Ted answered, furrowing his own brows with a confused smile. "Why is that upsetting?"

"You're in the same fucking house?"

"Yeah."

"Why the fuck are you in separate rooms?"

"I don't know"

"Hey, you told me to record in my room!" I chime in with a gravely chuckle, playfully scowling at my screen. "You told me to go, Ted!"

"Okay, hold on--" Ted tries to speak up again, quickly cut off by Schlatt.

"I don't fucking believe you." Schlatt speaks, shaking his head. "I don't believe you two for a fuckin' second."

"You don't believe we're in the same house? You don't believe her?" Ted raises his brows with a smirk.

"Nope, not even a little." Schlatt answers simply, leaning back in his chair.

As they bicker for a little bit longer, I realize that you can see Ted's closed door in frame, so I get an idea. "Y'know what? Here."

I quickly remove my headphones and hop off my chair, unable to hear if any of them noticed me take off. I quickly run out of my room and quietly open Ted's door enough to be able to swing it open with one swift kick, hearing Ted jump and shout out surprisingly. Knowing I'm in frame, I enter his room a little more and take in a deep breath, shouting out those 4 magic words to officially start the episode.

"WELCOME TO CHUCKLE SANDWHICH!"

__________________________________

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 (smut) || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10 (smut) || Chapter 11 || Chapter 13 || Chapter 14 (smut) || Chapter 15 ||

[lynxindisguise]

*sniffs air* is that... pisces season?!? wishing the happiest of birthdays to the dampest of them all @spindrifters! the boys are dressing appropriately for the occasion...

"Happy Valentine's Day, Moons."

The box is deceptively non-threatening: plain cardboard tied with gold ribbon. But Sirius has that all too familiar glint in his eyes, the one that once meant they'd be spending the evening in detention.

Lips pressed together, Remus holds his husband's gaze as he opens the box—slowly, just in case something jumps out at him.

Inside is a simple, olive green corset. Soft, sturdy suede with delicate embroidery along the edges. "Not really your style, is it?"

"No." Sirius smirks. "It's yours. It's for you."

"You want me to wear this?"

"Desperately."

Remus sighs, suddenly nostalgic for the year he was gifted 'moon' themed boxers. "That isn't a present, Pads; that's torture."

"Oh, just try it."

"What's it going to suck in? My ribs?"

"It'll be good for your posture."

"My posture?" He cracks a grin. "Made you wear corsets in your Pureblood etiquette classes, did they?"

Ignoring his question, Sirius removes the corset from the box and sets about loosening the laces for him. "Take off your jumper."

Resigned to his fate, he peels off his jumper with far less enthusiasm than he was hoping would be the case tonight.

He's left winded just from yanking the corset over his shoulders. Sirius tuts and gently pulls it the rest of the way down for him.

"As a proud member of the working class, I thought you'd appreciate a front-lace one. I can still help lace you up though... if you like..." His fingers run teasingly up his front, toying with the laces.

"Not too tight," Remus grumbles. "I'll get light-headed."

"Don't worry; we'll get you a fainting couch."

His scowl gives way to a gasp as Sirius tugs, exposing a bit more give at his belly than he was expecting. Those elegant fingers work their way up slowly, reverently, lips pouted in concentration. The strange intimacy of it momentarily distracts him from the way his spine is straightening, shoulders rolling back.

"Moony!" Sirius exclaims as he ties off the laces in a perfect bow. "Are you actually taller than me? Are those shoulders I see?"

He rolls his eyes and hunches instinctively—or he tries to, but the corset doesn't allow it.

"I'm not taking the piss," Sirius insists. "You look so fucking fit, Moons. Makes me want to fuck you in a haystack or something. Come look at yourself."

Sirius drags him to the mirror—a place he generally ignores.

It isn’t horrible. His shoulders and chest do look broader, creating the illusion of a v-shape. And the colour suits him, and he supposes, on the whole, he feels rather… pretty. It's a silly thought, even sillier for inciting a prickle behind his eyes.

“Knew you’d like it,” Sirius says, annoyingly smug.

“It’s alright.” He shrugs. “Do you want me to wear this tonight, then?”

“No, keep it on.”

Sometimes he forgets that he married a madman. “I’m not wearing this to dinner.”

“Wear your jumper over it.” Sirius hands him back his jumper, and he knows there’s no arguing it.

He consults the mirror to see how ridiculous he looks, only to find that he simply seems more… erect. Confident, even.

“Oh will you just admit you like it?”

“It’s… surprisingly comfortable,” he concedes.

Sirius snorts. “I’ll get you a prettier one for your birthday. One with little bows and lace maybe. Or shiny teal one. Make you feel like a... sexy grindylow.”

“A sexy grindylow.”

“Yes.”

“You want to fuck a sexy grindylow?”

“I mean…” Sirius laces their fingers together, teeth grazing his lower lip. "Do you think Jeff would go for it?"

Remus shakes his head, desperately jostling away the image of Sirius and his grindylow godfather before plucking a kiss from his lips.

Sirius beams, gorgeous and glowing. "Happy Valentine's Day, Remus."

"Happy Valentine's Day, love. Are you ready for your present now?"

And well, Sirius isn't the only one with a telling glint of mischief in his eyes.

His husband arches a knowing brow. "Am I?"

He struggles to keep a straight face as he hands him the box, watching the first crackle of laughter cross Sirius's face as he opens it.

They both break as he lifts the collar—red with gold spikes—from the box, doubling over at the sight of the heart-shaped tag bearing Remus's contact information.

"I hate you," Sirius wheezes, wiping tears from the crinkled corners of his eyes.

"I love you too, darling." He smirks. "Do you need help putting it on?"