#god i finally got to this ask! sorry anon hope you're well

[tuiyla]

btw, do you already dislike Xander? I'm kinda hoping you're going to start writing rants about how much he sucks lmao, but tbf his worst moments are yet to come. I also hope you'll end up hating another male character that most people love, much to my chagrin.

Alright! No more letting this ask sit. Anon, I hope you're around and doing well because we're finally gonna talk about Xander Harris.

I wanted to answer this at different points during my Buffy journey and now, towards the end of season 5, I have to say that... Xander's fine. I totally get where your hope comes from, my notorious Finn posts and all and though I'll get into aspects of Xander I dislike in a moment, I'm afraid I can't be the manhater you need on this occasion. From what I've seen though he's not that well-loved? In my limited experience anyway. So the Finn Hudson effect doesn't apply in that sense, either.

Where I would be frustrated with Xander in similar ways I am about Finn's ch is that sometimes he is framed in an annoying way. He never gets even just called out for lying to Buffy at the end of season 2 or acting like a major asshole in 3x02. All the Scoobies are coming at Buffy there, sure, but none with such vehemence and in such a self-righteous way. Self-righteous hypocrites really piss me off. Had I answered this at the start of season 3 I probably would have been much harsher on Xander than I'm gonna be now. His Angel hatred was so irrational and not worthy of an "I told you so" upon Angelus' turn and it's irritating how entitled he is to Buffy's decisions. Not to mention, I don't care if him sulking about Buffy's rejection is realistic teen boy behaviour, it's tedious and embarrassing. She made it clear that she was not interested and Xander was such an ass about it. His crush on Buffy was a pain to get through and frankly, I don't think Xander deserved either of the girls he's been with since. Cordelia most definitely not and I think Anya deserves better, too, because she's genuinely devoted whereas it really feels like Xander's with her just because it's convenient for him.

His latest really, really annoying moment was his Riley speech to Buffy but honestly I'm just so glad Riley's gone so I'm gonna swiftly move past that. Whatever, Xander tried helping Buffy and luckily she was too late to act on his advice. What stupid advice, anyway, as if Riley was one in a million. Hon, he was literally the 999,999 in a million.

And I said I wouldn't go hard on the guy, huh? Lmao well that was pretty much the list of my grievances. In general? Xander's... fine. He's not gonna be my favourite Scooby in any scenario, no way, but I think since mid-season 3 he's been a lot more tolerable and even enjoyable on occasion. He does feel sort of useless at times but that's acknowledged and a part of his journey so I appreciate that. I don't fully buy into him being the Heart of the group as that position is something that I hold precious, see Katara in ATLA. And no way Xander can even touch what someone like Katara represents within her group dynamic. But I also see that being the Heart is mostly about courage here, loyalty, and as much as he makes mistakes I gotta give Xander that.

Even in that interpretation I struggle with the guy because a) he does have these icky sexist moments that are just not funny and they're meant to be and b) he's not... that full of heart. I just think pettiness gets in the way too often and, compared to someone like Willow's flaws his are more annoying and in general, more. He's not quite the Nice Guy syndrome because he is general a genuinely good friend to Buffy and the others but I wish he wasn't such a teen boy. Or, if he was, cause ya know they unfortunately do exist, that he was framed just a little more critically. I get that that's too much to ask of Whedon's late 90s feminism but it would make Xander an easier character to vibe with. I mean, I'm guessing there must be a reason I had zero idea about his existence prior to watching the show but had a vague idea of most other Scoobies. I knew so many things about Willow and was aware of chs like Oz, Cordy and Tara, but I was half-expecting Xander to only last a season or two. Because surely, if he was there for the whole show I would have heard people talk about him already.

So, yeah, it might not sound like it because I more so talked about the negatives than positives but I don't hate Xander by any means. He's not frustrating enough to be loathed or ranted about but he's also not nearly engaging enough to be on the level of the other Scoobies. He has his moments, though, and more often than not I find myself enjoying Xander-centric episodes. Soooo... is that anything? I hope I don't disappoint but now that I'm at the end of season 5 maybe you can share more about your Xander thoughts, I'd be happy to listen.

[ashlinxsloves]

Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas

Jason Todd x Fem!reader

Requested by Anon

W/C: 960 ish (it's short im sorry 😞)

A/N: I know it's already past Christmas and it's two days till 2025, but I was sick and couldn't write :,) I still have a horrible cough but I prevailed!! I hope you guys like it, I mostly thought about WFA Jason when writing this.

Tags/warnings: fluff, domestic!Jason Todd, no y/n, a little ooc Jason? Idk, Batfam mentioned, slightly insecure Jason (if you squint), romantic but awkward Jason, fluff, fluff, fluff– CHRISTMAS DECORATIONS PEAK– not proofread.

“Jason–! A little help with the lights please?” You called out for your boyfriend who was in the kitchen, decorating the cookies you've baked earlier today.

It was still a few weeks till Christmas and you always loved the holiday since you were a kid. You convinced Jay to help you decorate your shared apartment to give it some of the Christmas cheer– and it wasn't like he could say no to his sweet girl.

You were standing on a stool, trying to stick the Christmas lights above the window, only to lose your balance and almost fall. Jason caught you in time, holding you by your waist and helping you regain your balance.

“Woah there, pretty girl, be careful,” he grinned at you while still holding onto your hips as you finally got the lights to stay. He helped you down, leading you to the tree that was kind of decorated – with a few red and gold ornaments along with warm golden yellow Christmas lights. The only thing missing was the tree topper and some gold garlands.

“Mind getting the garlands from the box, babe? I got the tree topper in my purse,” you smiled innocently at him, making Jason irk an eyebrow before leaving the room– why would you have the tree topper in your purse? Did you buy a new one?

You hurriedly got the tree topper out of your bag, trying not to giggle too loudly. It was a custom-made tree topper, made by one of your colleagues who liked making Christmas decorations as a side hustle. When Jason came back and saw it, he almost dropped the box while blinking in surprise.

“Is.. is that a Red Hood tree topper?” he asked, mouth slightly agape but he didn't seem upset with it. He looked rather more baffled than anything.

“Well– I thought it would fit better than anything else.. plus, you're my star, Jaybird,” you smiled at him, caressing his cheek, making Jason lean into your touch. God, he loved you so much, he felt like he didn't deserve such a sweet, pretty thing like you.

Once you were done decorating the living room, the both of you headed to your room, but before you could, Jay cleared his throat, nodding upwards where a mistletoe was hanging. You chuckled softly at his antics and he pulled you in by the waist, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. Before you could pull away he pressed more kisses on your lips, nose, cheeks, and forehead, making you giggle, placing your hands on his chest to make him stop.

“I love you,” he murmured against your hair, burying his face in the crown of your head, inhaling your sweet shampoo while he kept you close.

“I love you too, Jay.. more than you'll ever know,” you whispered back, smiling against his chest before breaking the hug and tugging him by his arm towards your shared bedroom, “come on, our room won't decorate itself.”

“Your apartment looks like those super decorated department stores– gah- ow-! Jason, why did you hit me?” Dick rubbed his side while holding his cup of hot chocolate, pursing his lips at his younger brother.

“Don't insult our home, Dickwad. I think it looks great,” Jason smiled softly when he looked at you talking to Damian, seeming to be entranced in the conversation. He then decided to get behind you and grab you by the waist, stealing you away.

“Jay– what are you–” you tried to get out of his grasp, kicking your legs slightly. Damian was about to protest, but Dick shook his head at him, letting Jason take you away from your conversation.

“Stealing my girlfriend away for a moment,” he replied to you, taking you to your room and closing the door. When he put you down, he spun you around to face him before nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, “I missed you.”

“But I was right there?” You hugged him back, a little confused but indulging in the moment.

“Just wanted a bit of privacy.. it's a little crowded in the living room right now,” Jason pulled away from your neck before pressing a kiss on your forehead. You smiled warmly at him, looking into his eyes with curiosity when he seemed to avoid eye contact with you.

“What's wrong?” murmuring softly, you rubbed his forearm but he only shook his head before chuckling awkwardly. He let go of you, going to his nightstand and grabbing something from the drawer. You tilted your head to the side, a little confused.

“I– uh.. I wanted to give you this in private since Dick won't let me hear the end of it. But.. you're the love of my life and I want you to have this,” Jay handed you a box, opening it, revealing a necklace with a heart pendant with your initials carved on the outside.

“I– I know I'm not the perfect boyfriend and I have my flaws, but I want to be there for every Christmas, helping you decorate, baking cookies and drinking hot chocolate with you while we watch the Harry Potter movies over and over.. God, I should've written a script or asked Babs what to say–” he groaned softly, making you giggle and before he could continue you pulled him down by his collar and pecked his lips.

“I think it's perfect,” you smiled as he helped you put the necklace on, opening the pendant to see the picture you both took during your first Christmas together, kissing under a mistletoe by the Wayne Manor. It was the perfect gift.

“Merry Christmas, beautiful,” Jason smiled at you, leaning his forehead against yours while he looked lovingly into your eyes.

“Merry Christmas, Jaybird,” you smiled back at him, holding the pendant with one hand while caressing his cheek with your other.

Pls reblog and like to show support!! <3

[nyarumie]

hey axia ｡⁠◕⁠‿⁠◕⁠｡

enjoy the start of your semester, before uni gets crazy!! I loved your previous works, so I'll just slip into your inbox while the requests are open:3

What do you think would make Hoshina blush, or like, properly flustered?!

(be it headcanon, scenario, or whatever else you feel like, if anything:))

have a great day 🔆

Heart in Your Hands

hoshina soshiro x reader — fluff, comfort, they're both deeply in love, (god me when), short and sweet, established relationship

Author's Reply: Hi, thank you anon! I hope this work caters well to your request; finally got the time to work on something (which hopefully helps with my writer's block)

Reblogs and likes are appreciated! Please view my pinned and masterlist too (⁠◡⁠ ⁠ω⁠ ⁠◡⁠)

Trying to get Soshiro to blush is definitely rarer than a blue moon. Trust me, even his own platoon of talented rookies tried catching him off-guard — it's just near impossible!

Keyword: Near impossible. That's where you enter the picture.

As a Platoon Leader, you do your best to be a figure of inspiration to your officers, thus keeping up your facade of a strict mentor; but honestly—you’re not fooling anyone, you're totally a softie! Despite your personal ‘no-distractions-during-work’ policy, obvious signs of your feelings for the Vice Captain naturally slip out occasionally. Still, you refuse to get your relationship in the way of your work.

Behind closed doors lie the reserved intimacy and affection you held for him. He won't ever admit it, but he sometimes pushes himself too hard, hard enough to have scars and calluses all over his hands from his intense training, and you can only imagine how tight and desperate his grip is on his personalized close combat weapon.

He’s always desperate to prove his worth, desperate to keep the only thing that gives meaning to his existence, and you know that your words are not enough to quell the distress behind each swing and slash of his blades.

That's why you do what you know will calm him best—love him just as fierce as he swings those blades of his.

You caught him training again one night, exhaustion evident on his form. The adrenaline coursing through his body has yet to be quenched, and you know you have to do your magic to get him to rest.

“Soshiro. You're here again. One more night of this and you’ll really strain your body.” you softly said, concern evident in your voice.

He stopped midway his slash, breath heaving as he turned to face you. “Can't rest easy when the rookie officers are a whole ‘nother level, dear. If I don't do this, I doubt I’ll be able to get even the slightest hit on No. 9.”

Sighing, you made your way to him. “Put your weapon down for a while, please? Let me at least do something for you.”

Doing as you asked, he kept them somewhere safe and curiously stood in front of you again. He gave you an inquisitive look, patiently waiting for what you're planning to do.

You took his hands and caressed them, slowly feeling the roughness and evidence of all the nights he's spent bruising himself up just to get even stronger. You move his hands so that his palms are facing you, his eyes widening at your next move.

He felt a soft, careful kiss touch each of his palms, followed by a kiss to each of his fingertips.

He thinks his ears are on fire with how hot it's burning.

“W-what are ya doing, dear? I haven't cleaned my hands up!”

You entwined your hands with his before he could even pull them away, thinking that he didn't like what you just did. “I’m sorry, did I make you uncomf— Oh.”

Oh, indeed. The sight that greeted you when you turned your face up to see him is… remarkable. You can't believe the Third Division’s Vice Captain would be blushing over his significant other tenderly kissing his rough, tired hands.

“Ya didn't have to do that… I know you love me plenty! And please stop gripping on my hands harder, ya aren't letting me turn away!”

You snort. “Of course I won't let you. This is a rare sight. Still, I didn't know something like that could get you severely flustered.” you said, a hint of pride in your tone.

“Told ya I haven't cleaned ‘em up. I was holdin’ those nasty blades moments ago.”

“Ah, excuses. Just say you liked the kisses more than you expected. I’ll let you off this one time and say it's just out of exhaustion.” you giggled.

Your expression turned soft and serious again, now hugging him. His arms wrapped around you, a tired sigh coming from him. “You do so much for me, ya know that? I thought I was gonna explode earlier. Don't know what I did to deserve ya.”

“Mhm, ‘Shiro. You have no idea how at a loss I am sometimes to do something for you. I want to shoulder at least a piece of your burden, want you to share your pain with me without worrying about whether I can take it. Because I will, just for you. I’ll hold your hand whatever happens and stand side by side with you. All I ask is that you take care of yourself.”

He let out a soft laugh of relief. “I should be sayin’ these things to you. I hope ya know how amazing you are to me.”

You both pulled away from the hug, him taking a hand of yours in his. “Let's get some rest. Don't wanna worry my princess over here.”

Smiling in content, you nod your head at him. “Thank you, Soshiro.”

[nofingjustaninchident]

I had an idea today. rockstar reader x Jason Grace? Like he’s a fan of her and he goes to one of her concerts and gets a wink from her and they later meet through a shared friend and their relationship blooms from there? And she’s a typical rockstar girl, red leather jacket, smudged eyeliner, kinda “hardcore”. I got the idea after listening to arabella by artic monkeys!

ᯓ★ arabella

summary you and your band are back in new york, so you call some friends to your show - smau and written

warnings smoking in like one pic, i know nothing about rock

author’s note thank you anon, for requesting this. i’m sorry it took me a month and a half to do this, honey, really am. i still don’t have much time to write these days, so i did a smau. hope uou enjoy!

now listening to arabella by arctic monkeys

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

liked by seaweedbrainfr, ghostking and 806 others

blond.superman oh god, not me taking my friends to a rock concert

beautyqueen oooh is this >>her<< show?

wisegirlbeth good luck! you’re gonna need it 🥰

ghostking well have so much fun 🤩

blond.superman already regretting even inviting you three

reynathequeen nah you’re not

repair.boy lol i’m so freaking excited to tease you all night about her

liked by blond.superman, dovecameron and 504,623 others

yourusername not back to 505, but back to the big apple

dovecameron can’t wait to see you babyy

yourusername OMG YOURE HERE?? AS IN NEW YORK???

user y/n as lost as we are helppp 😭😭

user can’t WAIT to see her show today

honeymoon as hot as ever i see

yourusername love ya loads

user MOTHER IS MOTHERING

user how can someone be so pretty???

user that’s not a face card, that’s a face ECONOMY 🛐

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

“she winked to me.”

that made nico, the closest person to jason (and the only one that wasn’t too intoxicated to understand something) to turn to him with confused expression.

“who winked at you?” the shorter boy asked, seemingly confused by his friend’s words.

“y/n. i’m a hundred percent sure.” the blond boy replied, staring at the guitarist. she was way too pretty, and he was afraid that maybe he was right and she did winked at him.

nico snickered. “oh, sure. delulu is the solulu, am i right?”

“nico, im not joking.” he repeated, and she did it again. this time, an open mouthed percy turned to him, bewildered.

“jason! y/n winked at you! did you see it?!” the brunet said, smiling more than he’d usually do. god, the alcohol was clear in his face.

jason looked at nico as if to say see? as they turned back to enjoy the show.

after ten more songs, the concert was finally done. the guitarrist, y/n, walked over to the front of the stage and grabbed the mic. her hair was damp from sweat, her mascara and eyeliner smudged around her eyes. "good night, my pretty city!" she said, earning a round of cheers from the crowd.

"it's so nice to be back here with my favorite people in the world. here is where this dream began, and here is where it'll continue!" she finished and, with another round of applause, the band was finally off the stage.

reyna, as drunk as she was, smiled cheekily at her friends. "so, i may or i may not be friends with the vocalist." she revealed, making the other three friends snap their heads towards the puerto rican.

"WHAT?!" the three friends half-shouted at the same time.

"what do you mean you're "friends with the vocalist"? and why did you never tell us?" nico asked, all color draining from his face.

"well, it doesn't matter right now. what does matter is that we got pass to the back stage. which means we're gonna meet the band. which means that jason gets to see his all time crush. so, do you want to go now or miss the opportunity?"

"like hell we're missing it." the blond spoke up and grabbed reyna's arm. "lead the way."

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

tagged: arcticmonkeys

liked by sabrinacarpenter, blond.superman and 1,005,478 others

yourusername another show that almost had me in tears. every show is awesome but the new york ones just hit different. thanks for everyone that was there!!

user alright the show was great and all but WHO WAS THE PERSON SHE WINKED TO???

blond.superman best show ever (liked by author)

user WHO’S THIS ONE???

user WAS HIM WHO SHE WINKED TO???

user just stalked him, his face card is offering 🙏🏻🙏🏻

user shoo our girl doesn’t need m*n

honeymoon dear lord when i get to heaven, pls let me bring my woman

yourusername COMPLETELY IN LOVE WITH YOUU

liked by yourusername, beautyqueen and 107,896 other

blond.superman damn, suddenly i'm famous

user well, damn. i came here to boo him for supposedly wooing our girl and ended up being wooed as well

yourusername last slide is SO ME

blond.superman i wonder why's that

yourbff oh no, my girl was wooed by a wh*te m*n repair.boy i'm latino, in case you're interested ghostking LEO NO

user he's hot, a drummer, blond.. is this heaven?

user i can see why y/n was wooed by him

user hell yeah

tegged: blond.superman

liked by your bff, blond.superman and 1,975,830 others

yourusername petition for my new boyfriend to teach me how to play drums or join my band

blond.superman love you <3 (liked by author)

seaweedbrain FINALLY!!! he'd been pining on you for the past two years y/n. two. years.

user NOT JASON BEING EXPOSED

yourusername oww how cute

blond.superman i'll find you, jackson. i'll find you.

oliviarodrigo aww my favorite american couple!! so cute you two (liked by author)

matthewhelders first of all, you should thank me and reyna for introducing you two. second, I'M YOUR DRUMMER!!

yourusername yeah yeah thx reyna and YOU'RE OLD MATTHEW!! WE NEED MORE GEN-Z

user y/n is so awesome omfg

wisegirlbeth so happy for my boy (nah i'm just glad we don't have to hear about how awesome she is anymore)

beautyqueen nope we're hearing twice as much now

honeymoon so happy for you boo! (liked by author)

sabrinacarpenter fav couple (liked by author)

[lovebugism]

i am so sorry but reader talking about robin right before making out with eddie is like absolutely the best thing i’ve ever read i’m obsessed i genuinely can’t wait for anything else in that universe that you do

THE CUSTOMER'S ALWAYS RIGHT | god help the girl

summary: in which you come to terms with the fact that you're hopelessly in love with eddie munson. pairing: virgin!eddie munson x reader word count: 13k warning: phone sex, more discussions of shitty boyfriends, j*son c*rver name drop, talks of unhealthy eating practices, smut 18+ mdni! a/n: this ask has been sitting in my inbox for ages now, but i wanted to save it until robin made an appearance in the series! thank you, anon, for being so sweet! and for the few of you who've been waiting on me to finally post <3 hope you enjoy! xoxo

( PREVIOUSLY ) | ( SERIES MASTERLIST ) | ( NEXT )

They only met once, but it changed their lives forever. 

That’s what the movie cover reads at least, but the words have long blurred into a jumbled mess at your tunnel vision. John Bender stares you in the face, but all you see is Eddie — boyish and brazen and scowling because he thinks it makes him look intimidating, but nowhere near as cruel as he seems. 

He’s certainly got the hair for it, much longer and curls far wilder than Judd Nelson’s measly set of brushed-back locks. He’s got the terribly animated personality down pat, too; the one that either makes you laugh uncontrollably or squirm in discomfort when it’s pointed your way. And the style’s a pretty fine match also, though you’d argue that no one sports a leather jacket quite like Eddie Munson does.

Wallowing in your boredom at the empty Family Video store on Main Street — where your best friends slave over mundane work with aching backs and a lingering sense of gratefulness that no customer has been in in well over an hour — you find yourself analyzing each character pictured on the front cover of The Breakfast Club.

Robin would surely be Allison, you conclude rather quickly, because their deadpanned glowers are eerily identical. They’ve also got this sort of atypical aura to them, too, like a dark storm cloud or the promise of a long night. But strangely it sparkles — strikes of lightning or a sky full of stars. It draws everyone’s attention to them; even when they’re desperately trying to hide in the very back of a room.

And Steve would be Andrew, not particularly because of his affections for this Allison-Reynolds-Robin-Buckley hybrid you’ve concocted, but because "popular guy with daddy issues" is a trope that fits him far too well. He’s way more likely to get detention for trying to look cool in front of his assholes friends than for anything actually malicious of heart. But that would’ve been years ago now. He’s not that kind of guy anymore. 

He’s soft and sweet — a Brian Johnson sort of soft and sweet, if you will. If Brian wasn’t the brains, but the sweetest dumbass anyone’s ever met.

You realize then, that Jim Hopper would make a mean Richard Vernon. He’s impatient to a fault, almost too stern at times, but never enough to make you genuinely fearful of him. You’ve found that it’s virtually impossible for you to take him seriously when he’s so cartoonishly angry. It’s a match made in heaven, you find, though Jim might take offense to the comparison.

And if Eddie is Bender, then that’d make you the Claire Standish of the bunch.

She’s dreadfully stylish, a bit stuck-up at times, and perhaps a little bit more spoiled than the average person; but it’s not like she ever claimed to be perfect. And you wouldn’t either.

You’ll take more pride in your wardrobe filled with pretty pleated skirts and flouncy dresses than your somewhat glacial disposition. And you might not be drowning in daddy’s money, but you’re certainly spoiled in other ways — if only in the employee discount at Enzo’s that got you wine for cheap and your connections at Family Video that meant free movie nights whenever you wanted.

The bad boy and the princess was a tale as old as time itself. It’s a fairytale you wouldn’t mind living in if it ended how it did in the movies — with a kiss on the cheek and an exchanged diamond earring in the calloused palm of another. A soft pink smile and a celebratory fist in the air.

But you’ve met your fair share of John Bender’s and none of them had been particularly kind to you, let alone had fallen in love with you. 

Maybe that’s because you were no Claire Standish. Never pretty enough, never mousy enough, never pure enough.  You try and dissect why you’ve never been successfully loved, and all the signs point to you, you, you.

You hope Eddie’s different. You need Eddie to be different.

“Something’s wrong with me,” you blurt out of nowhere.

Well, it’s not totally out of the blue for you. You’d been stewing over that thought since you got there — since you left the woods with damp underwear and the scent of you on Eddie’s fingers.

But to Steve and Robin, who’d stayed relatively silent and locked eyes only once after they noticed how abnormally hushed you’d gone, it catches them quite off guard.

Steve lifts his heavy head from where he mans the counter. His tired eyes leave the computerized catalog for the first time in forty minutes, and he has to rub at them with the bottom of his palms to see you properly. Meanwhile, Robin crouches at your side, taking returned tapes from the bin sitting next to her and placing them back upon the shelf you lean against. 

She blinks up at you, deep ocean eyes swimming with apprehension, like she can sense the spiral you’ve just about twisted yourself into.

“What do you mean?” she wonders, ever the supportive best friend, as she plucks Heather’s, Pretty in Pink, and Weird Science from the bin and sets them onto their assigned rows in the Teen Drama section.

“Eddie won’t fuck me.”

Neither of them is particularly stunned by the unabashed nature of your admission.

Not only have they both fucked you at one point or another, but they’re your best friends — no one’s ever going to know you quite the way they do. It leaves little left unsaid between the three of you, with secrets you’ve all sworn to take to your graves. Steve once stuck a finger in his ass to see if he liked it (he did) and Robin sometimes gets off on her childhood teddy bear (rather ironically named Mr. Snuggles). 

So this? This was nothing. Especially in comparison to all the other shit you’ve confessed to them because god knows the whore of Hawkins has a plethora of stories to tell.

Steve is more shocked by the name that leaves your mouth than anything else. “Eddie Munson?” he repeats with furrowed brows, like he had to have heard you wrong.

You bring your chin to your right shoulder to look at him, then nod.

“Eddie… The Freak… Munson?”

You nod again, slower for him this time.

“You wanna fuck… Eddie Munson?” Steve reiterates once more, as though the idea was too appalling to be true. “Eddie Munson — The Freak?”

“Yes, Steve,” you huff in irritation.

His face contorts into a puppy-like confusion. A frown settles between his bushy brows and he cocks his head to the side, nose scrunching and his lip quirking slightly. He couldn’t look more disgusted if he tried.

“…Why?”

You groan and tilt your head back dramatically. “That’s not what’s important here, Steve. The better question is why won’t he fuck me?”

The boy’s lack of any actual assistance doesn’t surprise Robin in the slightest — his dumbfounded gaze and innate confusion are actually pretty on brand. It just puts all the burden on her, to help you wriggle out of the mess you’d tangled yourself into. 

It’s not like she isn’t used to it, though, nor does she mind doing it for you. She walks you through your emotions like a professional, squashing out all the burning orange embers for you before they have the chance to burst into flames.

“Well, what do you mean he won’t fuck you? Like… did he actually say that or does he just wanna, you know, take things slow?”

The latter would’ve been way too easy. Eddie’s always been nice enough to you. It’d make sense for him to want to stay unhurried and gentle with you, but those words weren’t exactly in your vocabulary. 

The first time you were alone with him, you were getting yourself off on his thigh after making him come in his jeans. The next time you saw him, after four days of him clinging to your consciousness, there wasn’t as much small talk so much as there were two of his fingers stuffed knuckle-deep inside of you.

You don’t know Eddie’s birthday, but you know how he likes to be touched — squeezed and not rubbed. You don’t know his middle name or how he likes his eggs in the morning or what his relationship with his mother is like, but he’s already made you come. Twice.

You are completely, utterly, and totally incapable of taking things slow. So it wasn’t that. It couldn’t be. So it had to be the other thing. The very scary, terrifying, boogeyman of a thing.

“I mean, I offered to give him a blowjob and he completely turned me down,” you lament in reply.

Robin and Steve wince. Like, physically wince. Their faces scrunch and their heads flinch from something invisible. Audible ooh’s fall from their mouths without them even realizing it, because you don’t get rejected. Ever. Especially not after offering to pleasure someone without much of anything in return.

They don’t mean to react the way they do. The visible shock that coats their features is involuntary more than it is anything, and it only adds to your fears.

“Exactly!” you exclaim.

“I hate to say it, but I think hell might be freezing over as we speak,” Steve half-jokes.

“Well, he was working, right?” Robin asks with raised brows. “Maybe he was just busy.”

“Sorry, Rob, but no guy’s too busy for a blowjob.”

“Real charming, Stevie.”

“Maybe he just has a small dick,” the boy concludes with a shrug.

“I felt his dick,” you shake your head almost immediately. The feeling of Eddie’s hard cock through his denim jeans, all rough and warm against your palm, hasn’t yet left you. “It’s not small.”

“Well, maybe he can’t get it up—”

“Yeah, that’s not a problem either.”

Eddie was rock hard when you left him, throbbing and aching and obviously needing some kind of relief. That’s partly why you’d been so ardent to return the favor, though the other half of it was purely selfish — you haven’t seen a more beautiful sight than Eddie Munson getting off. To deprive yourself of that masterpiece made you feel like you were starving.

You have a hard time imagining the raging hard-on just… dissipating after you’d left him. That means he probably jerked off in the back of his van and you missed it. And if he came, right after he promised everything was okay, that means he just didn’t want you to do it… right?

Steve seems to be caught in the same inner turmoil you’re currently stuck in; and for good reason. In all the years he’s known you, he can count on one hand how many times he’s had to turn you down. And every time, it was because he’d gotten back together with Nancy. It was never because of you. Not once. And sometimes he felt like it hurt him as much as it did you. 

As far as Steve’s concerned, you’re so out of Eddie Munson’s league that you’re not even in his fucking orbit — so the freak show, turning you down, doesn’t make whole lot of sense to him.

“Huh…”

“It’s me. It’s definitely me,” you conclude with the shake of your head. A bitter, almost hysterical laugh spills from your lips. “He thinks I’m fucking ugly or disgusting or something. It’s totally fucking me—”  

Robin completely abandons her basket of tapes then. She rises to stand in front of you, looking timid as she does so. Her raised brows form wrinkles on her freckled forehead and her blue eyes widen to reveal more of the whites of them. She looks like she’s approaching a wild animal. A bomb that’s about to explode.

“Okay… You’re starting to spiral, alright? So let’s just try and take a few deep breaths—”

You don’t listen to her. 

Actually, you do quite the opposite, as you begin to blurt every fleeting thought that crosses your mind.

“I’ve made out with nearly everyone in this stupid town— I’m pretty sure I’ve fucked almost half— and you’d think Eddie would wanna take advantage of that, the way everyone makes him out to be some sort of freak, right? But he hasn’t and at this rate, he won’t, and I just don’t understand why,” you ramble without taking in a single breath. “Usually being a slut is a huge turn-on for guys, you know? But what if Eddie thinks it’s gross? I mean, it is gross— I’m gross—”

You only stop for air when Robin takes your shoulders in both hands. She looks less apprehensive and more stern, as she forces you to look at her.

“Look. I love you, but you need to get a hold of yourself, alright? I know you’re not used to being told no, and I know how much it sucks, but shit happens. I’m willing to bet all the money I’ve ever seen that whatever is going on with Eddie has nothing to do with you, okay? And if it’s making you this upset, maybe you should just talk to him.”

“But I don’t wanna seem like I’m too eager, that’s gross—”

“Then find someone else to fuck,” she offers with her signature Robin Buckley half-smile. “I’m sure it would take you less than five minutes to find a willing participant.”

“Yeah, right here,” Steve jokes from the counter with the pathetic wave of his hand and a dumb grin on his lips. 

You don’t hear him over the voices in your head — half calling you crazy for letting a boy drive you this mad over nothing, and the other half bitterly affirming each of your deep-rooted insecurities.

Your face screws up, like the thought of being with anyone other than Eddie upsets you — it does upset you.

“I don’t want anyone else.”

“Then what do you want?” Robin yells in your face, shaking you by your shoulders.

“I want Eddie!” you shout back without thinking. The words seem to spill out of nowhere. It takes you of all people by surprise. No one in this rat trap town would ever expect the whore of Hawkins to want to settle down, least of all the harlot herself. It’s strange; it’s riveting; it’s really fucking scary. “…Fuck.”

The brunette smirks, proud of herself. “Well. There’s your answer.”

“I hate when you’re right,” you mumble to yourself, pouting as she crouches back down again.

“I know.”

It was a terrifying thought, to know that you were head over heels for someone else. You try to come to terms with what that means. 

Sometimes you think you fall in love with a new person every day. A cute guy holds the door open for you, a pretty girl compliments your outfit — they never think about you again, but they’re on your mind for days. It was so easy to develop such meaningless infatuations, especially when you were bored.

But Eddie was different.

He was a nice guy. A nice guy that was sweet to you just for the sake of being sweet to you; not because he secretly wanted something in return. That made you fall for him at first, but then you just… kept on falling. Eddie Munson was an infinite void you couldn’t crawl your way out of even if you wanted to, even if you tried.

And that’s what frightened you the most.

Because if you really thought about it, you’ve only truly been in love a handful of times. And, sure, it didn’t work out — that was normal — but some of them fucking ruined you. 

You’re still trying to figure out who you are without all of the people that have broken your heart. You’re still fighting like hell every day to recognize the person you see in the mirror, while Billy Hargrove fucks off with a new girl every other week like he didn’t totally destroy you.

But, even still, Eddie was completely different. No one’s ever made you feel the way he makes you feel. And it’s more than the stupid heavy petting — it’s more than anything. It’s never been like this before; not even with the blonde mulleted asshole who ripped your heart to shreds. 

And you’re scared that if you get hurt again, you’ll never be able to come back from it.

“Steve, do you have another copy of Fast Times in the back?” you suddenly ask the boy, tossing him a look over your shoulder.

It’s your last ditch effort to rid yourself of the ponderous, gray doom and gloom surrounding you like some storm cloud. Your comfort movie solves all of your problems — or, at the very least, Phoebe Cates does — but it seems everyone else in town has developed a similar fondness for minute fifty-three of the film and got all the tapes off the shelf before you could get your hands on one.

“You know I keep on in stock for you,” he answers quietly.

He reaches below the counter to pull out a spare copy for you, and your heart swells with the rays of a thousand rising suns and the songs of every morning bird.

Steve told you some time ago that he could change. And back then, all it did was piss you off, because he didn’t want to change for the town slut — for the girl he put through the goddamn ringer. He wanted to change for Nancy. The princess bruised his brittle ego a little, and then he realized what an asshole he’d been to everyone, to you.

But as angry as it made you, you never believed him. “Once the King of Hawkins High, always the King of Hawkins High,” you remarked bitterly.

You wouldn’t say it to his face, for the sake of keeping his ego from inflating all over again, but you could tell he was really changing.

He was kinder, he was softer. He stopped caring about what everyone thought about him, about what not caring would do to his reputation, and started giving a fuck about the people worth giving a fuck about. 

Apparently, you were one of them.

“…Really?”

He nods with a subtle shrug. Like it was no big deal. Like it wasn’t one of the sweetest things he’d ever done for you — keeping your favorite movie on hand so you’ll always have a spare, knowing that it’s the only thing that gets you out of a deep, dark funk sometimes.

“Stevie… You’re gonna make me blush,” you lilt with a grin as you saunter over to him, hands innocently laced behind your back. “You need to be careful, Harrington. I’m gonna start to think you actually like me.”

He scoffs. “I do like you.”

“Yeah, when it’s convenient.”

It’s obvious your joke hits him where it hurts. It serves as a bitter reminder of the asshole he used to be, the douchebag he’s trying like hell to grow out of. He looks up at you with a sheepish, honey-tinted gaze before ducking away again.

A year or more ago it would’ve made you feel good, to know that you hurt him just a fraction of the way he hurt you. But you know that that isn’t the same man standing in front of you now, that he’d rather die than make hurt your feelings, and it makes you feel like shit for saying it in the first place. 

“Sorry,” you apologize with a scrunched nose. The palms of your hands dig into the edges of the counter as you lean against it. Your shrug. “It just kinda came out…”

The barcode scanner in his hand beeps as he passes the thing over the back of the tape — never charging you, just getting the movie out of the database.

“So, uh…” he starts before clearing his throat. He focuses his gaze on the computer and types on the bulky keyboard with the tip of his pointer finger. “You really like this Eddie guy, huh?”

“Maybe. I think so.”

“And he’s not, like… a total freak or anything?”

You can’t tell if he’s trying to look out for you or if he just wants intel on what it’s like trying (and failing) to bang the local weirdo. Either way, it makes a smile tug slow at your lips as you joke: “Not in the way everyone thinks.”

“Jesus,” he winces at the obscenity of your words.

“Sorry,” you apologize again, though the laugh that bubbles from your lips after cancels out any hint of actual sincerity. “You don’t need to give me the talk or anything, Steve. I can take care of myself.”

“…Can you?” he half-jokes.

It makes you falter. “Well… With you and Robin and Hopper constantly on my ass, then yeah.”

“Just don’t want you to get hurt,” Steve finally admits, soft and suddenly shy as he hands the VHS over to you.

“That’s rich coming from you—”

He jerks back the tape before you can take it from him, leaving your hand reaching for thin air. His cinnamon eyes glimmer with a foreign seriousness, not completely unkind, but lacking their usual blithe. “That’s why I’m saying it. I just… I want you to be okay.”

Steve is one of the rare ones, you conclude right then in there — in the liminal emptiness of Family Video, beneath fluorescent lights that cast sharp shadows upon his already chiseled features. He was a mythical creature of a man, one who breaks your heart and does everything in his power to mend it again.

He hasn’t forgotten about what he did to you, not like Billy did, and he won’t. Not ever. He saw what he did to you and he never moved on from it, just matured enough to make sure it never happened again. And he won’t let another unworthy douchebag hurt you like he did. Not if he can help it, at least.

And he did try to warn you about Hargrove, to be fair. You were just the dumbass that didn’t listen.

“Well, me and my Phoebe Cates wet dream are golden, Pony Boy,” you promise. He hands you the tape again and lets you snatch it from his grip this time. “Don’t worry your pretty little head, Stevie.”

Steve Harrington was right. 

The fleeting thought flashes across your mind for half a second, and you quickly realize that those words have never been uttered in the same sentence before now. But he wasn’t wrong in what he’d said about you, just before you left — you were completely, totally, absolutely, and implicitly unable to take care of yourself.

You nearly passed out in the bathroom after taking the hottest shower of your life, feeling too woozy to slap on anything other than moisturizer because you failed to remember to actually eat something that day. It wasn’t totally your fault, though; if anything, it was because of Eddie and all the butterflies he’d given you that made food the very last thing on your mind.

You half-heartedly dry yourself off, keeping your hair in a towel, while you slip on a cotton set of underwear you’ve had for way longer than what's likely acceptable. Damp and half-naked, you prance into the kitchen to fix Bowie her bowl of dinner before you feed yourself.

You fork a can of wet food onto a flower-shaped plate and let her eat on the counter — because you’re an adult now, and you can do that sort of thing.

The calico purrs while she feasts, but your stomach thunders with negligence. You peek into your mostly bare refrigerator and make a mental note to go grocery shopping when you get paid next week. 

With a lack of food and an even lesser will to cook something, you settle for the half-eaten chocolate bar you keep stashed in the very back of the fridge; kept only for the most special of occasions — when you’re reveling in your loneliness and trying to convince yourself that you can make it on your own.

It was practically the size of your forearm when you first bought the thing at some too expensive candy store in the city. Now it’s no bigger than your hand.

You eat the thing in bed, even though you know you’ll get crumbs everywhere and that it’ll make sleep agonizing for you — if you get any, that is. You’re bound to feel like a total zombie by the time the sun rises and the late-night sweet will likely make its appearance on your skin by then, in a red and raging blemish of a consequence.

You’ll feel empty and starved and surly, a snapping grouch instead of an actual person, until you get some actual food in your system.

And you’re more than aware of all of these things, but you don’t do a single damn thing about them.

You’re nothing but a sulking lump upon an unmade bed, lying in a pitch-black darkness that’s evaded only by the static-y television across your room, trying your best to pretend like you aren’t waiting for Eddie’s phone call. It’s hard to remember to forget him, though, when the movie you’re watching is practically a feature film of him and all the ways he makes you feel.

Spicoli and his terribly inebriated friends slur as they chorus “No shoes, no shirt, no diiiice” and you swear you can feel Eddie’s shoulder bump softly against yours as he laughs, hear every sound of his melodic chuckle in your ear that made you giggle right along with him. The low bass of Moving in Stereo plays in the otherwise empty silence of your bedroom, and every beat feels like the rhythm of your thrusts against his thigh.

Eddie Munson is all-consuming.

Even the thought of him feels physical.

Phoebe Cates all but undresses herself in front of you, but you’re stuck thinking about some guy who lives in a trailer park across town, deals drugs for a living, and can’t graduate high school. You’re a total fucking goner.

Your eyes flutter shut, and instead of the backs of your eyelids, you see Eddie’s trailer. Your lips start to tingle as they kiss his for the first time — hungry, yearning, needing. His thigh is pressed snugly into your cunt, denim jeans rough against your soft cotton panties, and you have to bite back a moan when he tenses every time you squeeze his hard, covered cock.

You can feel it, all of him, like he were here with you now. 

You wish that he were.

His fingers would feel far better, leave far more sparks of electricity in your belly, than the ones as you sneak through the hem of your underwear.

You try and take things slow with yourself, to be as gentle as he had been with you earlier in the woods, but it feels strange to treat yourself with so much tenderness. To touch your pussy like it’s the first time it’s ever been touched. Like it’s a beautiful thing you need to be sweet to.

Maybe you find it so foreign to be careful with yourself because no one has ever been careful with you.

No one, except for Eddie.

Your touch doesn’t rival his. It doesn’t even come close.

No matter how tightly you squeeze your eyes shut or how hard you try to pretend that they’re his fingers inside of you, you can’t make yourself feel as good as he did.

Your fingers aren’t as rough as his guitar-string-scarred ones and they don’t caress your clit with the same methodical care. They don’t fill you quite the same either, nowhere near as satisfying as his much thicker ones.

And you’re no stranger to masturbation, not by any means. Sometimes it’s the only way you can guarantee an orgasm for yourself when you’ve got a partner who cares so little about your own pleasure. But Eddie was different. Eddie cared — so much so, that he’s gotten more orgasms out of you than you’ve gotten from him, which is something you’ve never said about anyone else you’ve been with.

It’s rare and unfamiliar, a bouquet of all things refreshing and terrifying and strange, tied together with a pretty little ribbon.

You know that you can make yourself come. It’ll just take way too long to actually be worthwhile and won’t be nearly as mind-blowing as you need it to be. You won’t be left with trembling thighs and nearly numb legs — just a pitiful excuse for an orgasm that you could get from any one of your exes with half as much work.

What you need is Eddie. 

And you hate that. You hate how much you need him and you’re terrified of what that means.

As far as precedent goes, right when you start needing someone is usually when they start to leave. It’s like fucking clockwork most of the time — like everyone knows that you’re a ticking time bomb and eventually it gets too risky to stand too close to you. 

You’ll just have to keep Eddie at arm's distance. So he won’t see the grenade that you are.

You pull your fingers out of your wanting cunt, still slick and throbbing with a need that you can’t give it, when the phone rings.

The high-pitched shrill in the quiet makes you tense like it’s the first time you’ve ever heard the damn thing. Your breath catches in your throat, first out of fright and then at the inclination of who waits for you on the other line.

Suddenly, you’re scrambling to collect yourself. As though there was any possibility that Eddie might be able to see you through the phone line.

You wipe your wet fingers haphazardly on the cotton of your underwear and sit up straighter from your ungracefully lazed position. Then you count to five — one mississippi… two mississippi… three — so Eddie won’t think you’re some kind of crazy person who doesn’t have anything better to do than wait for his call. 

So he won’t know that’s exactly what you are.

You lift the ruby red rotary from its hook at your bedside table and stretch the corkscrew cord to press it to your ear. “…Hello?”

“Yeah, hi. I’d like to order a pizza. Half pepperoni, half hawaiian.”

You roll your eyes at his dumb joke, even though the familiarity of his voice makes you smile. It warms you like a home-cooked meal, like you were high-pitched and starving before and now you’re on the soothing comedown of finally being satiated.

“Yeah, sorry, we’re closed.”

“Then why’d you pick up the phone, huh?” he teases back. You swear you can hear the grin in his voice. You didn’t know a smile could be so audible. It makes you wonder if he can hear yours — if you’re doing a real shit job at pretending. You anxiously twirl the cord with the pointer finger of your free hand.

“Because I’ve been waiting for you to call me all night, dummy.” 

Your answer is more honest than either of you were expecting. 

Eddie’s sigh crackles through the shoddy reception. “Yeah. Sorry ‘bout that, sweetheart. I’ve been working all night. I only got home, like, five minutes ago.”

You can hear the heavy exhaustion in his voice. “Rough day?”

“Kinda,” he answers with a shrug. You can hear the grating squeak of his mattress as he plops down onto his bed. “I dealt to one of Jason’s goons today… They always give me a hard time.”

“I’m sorry,” is all you can think to answer. 

Eddie’s been the brunt of every joke since seventh grade — people made fun of too big clothes, his too wild hair, his too loud music. But he took it all in stride, laughing with everyone else before volleying a harsher joke back in response. You almost started to think that he liked it. That, somewhere deep down, he was fond of all the attention he got from people who supposedly couldn’t stand him.

But it hurts to know that it hurts him.

“Don’t apologize. It’s not like you did anything,” he assures with a soft laugh. He makes the bold decision to be honest then, too. “You, uh… You made my day a whole lot better, actually.”

You don’t know if he’s talking about the brief fling in the woods or the phone call you’re sharing now or if you particularly care either way. Your heart flutters like it’s been kissed by the wings of a butterfly.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean… I don’t know— I couldn’t stop thinking about you, you know. And, knowing that I was gonna get to talk to you again kinda got me through the day, I guess… And, yes, I am fully aware of how lame that sounds, but—”

You don’t get to hear the rest of his excuse, of why what he just told you totally isn’t lame, because you’re covering the receiver with your palm and turning to squeal into your pillow. A far more pathetic sight, in your humble opinion.

There hasn’t been a more fulfilling feeling than this one, to know that he’s been feeling the same way you’ve been feeling about him this whole time. It’s better than all the orgasms he could give you combined, to be loved so wholly.

“…You okay?” you hear his muffled voice ask after you’ve gone suddenly AWOL.

You press the phone back to your ear and nod like he can see you. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. The phone… fell— you said you just got home?”

“Uh, yeah. I met with Hellfire for a bit at school. We’re almost at the end of the Cult of Vecna, so they’re kinda on my ass about it. The little shits are obsessed.”

“Well, they should be. It’s a really good campaign, Eds.”

“Thanks to you,” he mutters. You can almost picture the glimmer in his button eyes and the shaky half-smirk he always looks at you with when he gets all shy.

“That was all you, Eddie Spaghetti,” you retort. “I still have no idea how you did it.”

“Did what?” he wonders, chuckling a bit at the nickname.

“Make something so beautiful out of thin air.”

Lying in the depths of his bedroom, blanketed by the darkness and bathing in streams of moonlight, Eddie feels his breath catch in his throat. 

For the first time in his life, he doesn’t have a joke to spew out on the spot. He’s speechless, just for a moment, a quick blink of a second, with nothing to say. Because, if he really thinks about it, that’s sort of what happened with you.

You were just his customer and he was just your dealer.

You were a loyal client and then a girl way out of his league that he developed a too big a crush on. Then you made him come in his underwear and washed the sticky stains out of the denim for him. Now you’re on the phone with him. You let him tell you all about his shitty day and apologize like you weren’t the only good thing about it — like you aren’t the only good thing, period.

It’s not the most cliche love story, nor is it the most beautiful, but it has his cynical little heart beating like the wings of a hummingbird.

Then, when all the mushy mess fades like fog, he finally thinks of something to say.

“It’s the witchcraft, sweetheart,” he shrugs to himself. “Didn’t you hear? I’m a devil-worshipping freak.”

“You know that’s not it, Eds,” you retort with the roll of your eyes.

You know that it’s hard, to be a metalhead from the wrong side of the tracks in the eighties — at the height of the Satanic Panic and all the delusional craze. That shit’s followed him since freshman year. Even still, it nips at his ankles like rabid dogs.

Maybe you were never naive or bored enough to believe all the rumors, but Eddie Munson was always more than that to you.

“No?”

“You can blame it on being a freak show all you want, but I know it’s because you’re one of the funniest, smartest, most creative guys I’ve ever met—”

“You must not know a ton of guys then, sweetheart,” he interjects playfully, like he couldn’t stand to hear you compliment him any longer. You’d give anything to see his blushing cheeks just now.

“…You’re kidding right?” you giggle in response.

“Sorry— that’s— I didn’t mean it like— It was— I was joking,” he stammers, frightened that he might’ve offended you in some way. 

It only makes you laugh harder. Both of you know you lost count of all the guys you ‘know’ a long, long time ago. You do imagine it’s somewhere near ‘a ton’, though.

“I know, Eds,” you assure with a contented sigh. “I was just teasing.”

“Oh.”

“The slut and the freak… Who would’ve thought?” you wonder all dreamily, like it’s a fairytale as old as time itself. That’s what it feels like, sometimes.

Eddie isn’t sure what you mean — who would’ve thought you’d be friends? Two people caught in that in-between stage of platonic and romance that’s complete agony and total, total bliss? A couple of kids falling in love—

“It’s sort of kismet, huh?” he answers.

“I think so.”

“So, uh… What are you up to?” Eddie wonders then, equal parts curious and eager to keep the discussion going. He’s frightened any lapse in conversation is going to lead to saying goodbye. 

He wants to stay on for hours, until both of you are fighting to stay awake, and then listen to the sound of your heavy breathing when you inevitably lose — like that isn’t the creepiest thing anyone’s ever wanted. He’ll fight Wayne about the bill if it comes to that, he doesn’t care, he just never wants to stop being this close to you.

“Do you want the real answer or the fake one?”

“Uh… Both?”

“Well, I’d say I was doing something super productive with my night, you know, catching up on all the boring adult shit, but then I’d be lying. And I don’t wanna lie to you, Eds,” you tell him with a teasing lilt playing at the edge of your voice.

Eddie swallows thickly, fearing he’d somehow been caught in his own lie — or rather, his half-truth. He moves on quickly, though not exactly full of grace. “Right. Yeah. Totally.”

“Honest answer is, that the only productive thing I’ve done tonight is shower, and now I’m in bed watching Fast Times and eating all the chocolate in my house, because I can’t cook for shit and I have nothing else better to do with my night,” you admit to him, picking at the thread of your comforter.

“Oh, don’t tell me I missed the ‘Moving in Stereo’ bit,” he agonizes.

“Just.”

“Well, correct me if I’m wrong, sweetheart, but it sounds like you’re having loads of fun tonight.”

“I’m having a lot more fun now,” you assure him.

“Glad I can be around to make you laugh,” he retorts like he’s not all too happy to do it.

“You’re a total comedian, Eddie Spaghetti.”

“If I’m the jester, you’re the queen, sweetheart,” he promises, a grin evident in his voice.

Your breath catches in your throat something fierce; you’re almost worried that he’s heard it. His words pierce your heart, a stroke of lightning or a blade of steel. He’s joking, but it’s so strangely profound, the kindest thing anyone’s ever said to you and it’s dripping in sarcasm. 

It’s sort of Eddie’s love language, you’ve come to understand, to say something so sweet but coated in venom to make it sour again. It makes you feel special, loved, almost.

A fire builds behind your rib cage, sharp and distant and all-consuming.

“Are you alone, Eds?” you ask him suddenly.

The sudden curve ball in the conversation takes him by surprise. “Uh, yeah, Wayne’s at work right now… Why?”

“Because I want you to talk to me…”

“Oh?” is all he can say because isn’t that what he’s been doing this whole time?

“And I want you to say things that… maybe other people shouldn’t hear,” you explain slowly to him.

“…Oh.”

He’s heard about this only once before, the whole phone sex thing. 

It was from Andy in the back of Ms. O’Donnell’s class a year or more ago, though Eddie never called him by that name. Andy, in all actuality, was Jason Carver’s right-hand man, and he meant that in every sense of the phrase. Eddie was more than convinced that the guy was so obsessed with the blonde haired, blue eyed douchebag that he was giving him handjobs on the regular.

But it seemed the dick brigade couldn’t function properly without their leader and Eddie had the misfortune of hearing all the mindless bullshit they were spewing behind him — basketball, parties, girls; in true white bread fashion.

His friends gathered around him like he was telling some sort of secret, though it was loud enough for anyone in a three foot radius to hear. Eddie, caught directly in the line of fire, heard all about Chrissy’s older sister, Wendy, who was two years older and off at college. 

He’d gotten her number from some party he’d crashed. At least that’s how he told it, right before telling everyone that she swore like a sailor when she came and that she told him all the dirty things she wanted to do to him while she did.

“It was like her hand was on my dick, dude, I’m serious. That shit was crazy, bro,” he’d laughed after retelling the whole conversation in excruciating detail.

Eddie rolled his eyes to himself then, inwardly jealous that he’d never get to meet Wendy — or any other girl that would be willing to have phone sex with him, for that matter. His phone only ever rang for telemarketers or a rogue Dustin Henderson calling to annoy him.

But, here you are now, the most wanted girl in Hawkins, offering it to him on a silver platter. He wonders if you’ve done this before, surely you have — oh god, he thinks to himself, what if you’ve done this with Andy?

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” you assure him after his unusually long silence. “I know you’re probably busy and tired and everything—”

“No! No, yeah, I— I want to. I totally want to.”

“Okay,” you nod. Petals of a flower begin to bloom in your chest as you lie back in bed, settling further into the mattress. The movie, already long forgotten, serves only as light and background noise. “So… What are you wearing, Eds?”

“I feel like I should be asking you that,” he laughs. 

On the other side of Hawkins, in a trailer in the middle of nowhere, Eddie rises from where he’d originally flopped back onto his bed with the notion that it was going to be a semi-normal night. He props himself against his headboard. His fingers twitch at his thigh.

“Beat ya to it, Munson.”

“Well, I’ll have you know that it is very sexy, sweetheart. I’m wearing the same Hellfire shirt you saw me in, I don’t know, five hours ago — except now it’s got a rip in it because I totally ate ass on the way back to the van.”

He tells you this to make you laugh — it works — but he prays you don’t ask any questions. Because he got it while hurrying back to his van mere minutes after you’d left him, so hard he thought he was going to burst, with no more than seven minutes until his next client arrived.

 Thankfully, he only needed three.

“I love that shirt,” you respond in place of saying what you really want to — ‘I love how that shirt looks on you’ — how it clings to his lean torso and reveals his midriff whenever he stretches his arms over his head.

“She’s a lit-tle worse for wear now, sweetheart,” he lilts.

“I’ll stitch it up for you.”

“And I’ve got on a pair of boxers that are so old they’re practically see through because I’m pretty sure they used to be Wayne’s back in… I don’t know… the eighteen-hundreds.”

Eddie was right. It was sexy, though, for the exact reason they weren’t supposed to be. 

There was something so domestic about it all. You can picture him lying in his bed, in the most comfortable clothes he owns, in the one place he can feel at peace. Like a renaissance painting, something familiar and comforting and beautiful — fuck, you’d give anything to be next to him.

“…I think that means it’s your turn now, sweetheart,” he teases.

“Is it?” you mock in return.

“C’mon. Don’t leave me hangin’ over here.”

“It’s nothing, special,” you assure. Your eye flits down to peer at your own body — nothing special, indeed, you think to yourself. The lilac cotton set came from the grocery store downtown on the clearance rack you so often frequent. “I just have my underwear on. It’s very boring, I’m afraid.”

It’s not boring. Not to Eddie — the boy who prides himself on his insanely active imagination. He might not be able to pass english with his brain, but he can certainly create worlds with it, and it’s too easy for him to picture you. He imagines you, freshly showered, and smelling of the warm lavender-vanilla scent you always smell like, mostly bare and lazing upon a fluffy comforter.

He swallows thickly. “Oh, that’s— that’s really, uh— that’s really sexy.”

His thankful that you don’t seem to mind his poor excuse for dirty talk.

“It’s only because I was too lazy to get into actual pajamas.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Yeah?” you press, smiling to yourself and caging your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Yeah.”

“Can I tell you a secret, Eds?” you wonder, made brave enough by his own admission.

“‘Course you can.”

“Before you called…”

“…Uh-huh?” he eggs on, intrigued at the way you trailed off, sounding suddenly shy.

“I was…” The thought of telling him what you were doing mere seconds before he called makes you nervous. It wasn’t like you were ashamed of touching yourself or anything, nor is the art of dirty talking lost on you, but something about Eddie makes you timid.

“You were… what, sweetheart?” he wonders gently, with a too audible grin.

“I was touching myself.”

That’s all you tell him. The words linger and hang in the air of your separate bedrooms and you cling to the silence — almost mortified and anticipating his reply. Eddie, meanwhile, feels like his tongue has swelled in his mouth and all the air has been punched out of his lungs.

“Oh...” he tries to respond without the breath to accurately do so. “…Yeah?”

“You know what Phoebe Cates does to me,” you try to joke.

His laughter crackles through the receiver. “Yeah. I kinda have her to thank for the other night, don’t I?”

“Give yourself some credit, Eds. The hottest guy in Hawkins was sitting right next to me, what was I supposed to do?”

“No way you think I’m the hottest guy in town,” he scoffs. “Everyone knows you’ve got a thing for pretty boys.”

“Pretty boys?” you echo with a giggle.

“Uh-huh. The Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington type, you know?”

“Well, I think you’re a hundred times prettier than he is.”

“Really?” he scoffs cynically, obviously not believing you.

“He wasn’t the one I was thinking about with my hand shoved down my panties,” you admit, immediately quelling his self-doubt. “That’s gotta count for something, right?”

Eddie clears his throat and then stammers, “I— I guess so— yeah.”

“Are you hard, Eds?” you ask in a breathy whisper.

And he just nods to himself at first, too stupid to answer audibly. He can feel himself stiffening in his boxers, only halfway hard now, but getting firmer by the second. Soon, he’ll be aching. 

“Yeah…”

“Can you touch yourself for me?”

Eddie would rather take a bullet to the chest than say no to you — at least, he figures that’d probably hurt less — so he slips his fidgeting fingers through the band of his boxers and takes his warm, stiffening cock in his hand. He squeezes himself just enough to make his stomach tighten.

“Want you to touch yourself, too,” he admits, neither asking or demanding it, just telling you.

“Yeah?” you tease.

“Well, I think it’s only fair, sweetheart.”

You can’t help but notice how breathy he’s gotten — how it shakes on the inhale and hitches on the out. He’s got his hand shoved down his underwear and you’re jealous of the fingers that get to wrap themselves around his cock. You wish they were yours. Both of you will have to settle, it seems.

“Whatever you want, Eds,” you answer playfully. 

You obediently slide your hand back into the warmth of your panties. Your fingers slot between your lips and collect the slick that had gathered there since before you’d even answered the phone. You bring it up to your clit, circling the pads of your fingers there until you twitch, then dragging them down to press into your opening. They slip in with ease. 

Both of you have turned into lovesick idiots, separated by so many miles, and missing the other most ardently. Lying in the depths of your bedrooms, basking in a velvet loneliness, building with a mutual pleasure with nothing but yearning hands and longing sighs.

Eddie’s eyes flutter shut at the sounds of your low moans and fragile whimpers that crackle through the static — beautiful still, but certainly no match to the ones you were breathing in his ear just hours ago. 

His lashes dance across his cheeks as he tries to remember how you’d felt against his fingers, soft like velvet and delicate like silk, weeping and pulsating with need. 

He drags his hand from his boxers and lets the band snap against his pelvis. He spits into his palm and wets his cock with it, sighing as he tugs at himself without much friction.

“Are you wet, sweetheart?” he asks, though the words threaten to get stuck in his throat.

“Yeah,” you whisper back like it’s some kind of secret. 

You work yourself open with your middle finger and slip your pointer in next to it without much trouble. Your walls flutter around them while you fight to find the spot the makes you keen. You’re only able to tease it, fingers not quite long enough to caress it completely. Your thumb keeps working at your clit, though, to make up for the lost pleasure. 

“I’ve been wet since I left you,” you admit through labored breaths. “Haven’t been able to… to stop thinking about you, Eds.”

“Glad I’m not the only one whipped over here, sweetheart,” he manages a laugh.

“No one’s ever made me come that hard before. Not just with their fingers,” you tell him mindlessly, dumb on pleasure, as you feel yourself climbing that peak.

“Really?”

“Never,” you promise, then whine. “Doesn’t even feel as good now… Can’t get as deep as you can—”

Eddie hangs on your every word as he works his palm up and down his stiff cock, squeezing at the base and swiping his thumb over the head with an expert hand. His face scrunches as his stomach starts to tighten, he’s close to coming — too close for his liking. He doesn’t want this to be over so quickly.

“You’ve ruined every other guy for me, Eddie Munson,” you confess, more than pleased to hear how it makes him whine. It sounds like it comes from the depths of his chest, the way it crackles low and needy through the receiver.

“Good,” he grumbles through his pants after he’s gathered himself all over again. “Don’t want anyone else to have you, sweetheart.”

This time you’re the one letting out the most pathetic of whines. It makes a smile flicker at the corners of his lips.

“You like that?”

It sounds so dirty, but you can tell by the sincerity of his tone that it’s genuine. So you answer with a longing truthfulness, a delicate “yes”entwined with a yearning moan.

“You just wanna belong to me, don’t ya?” 

Now, this is dirty talk. The teasing lilt of his tone — it’s almost degrading —�� and makes you clench around your fingers. “Yes, please,” you whine, all but pleading for him now.

Eddie’s close, so dreadfully close, with a pleasure so tangible he could taste it. Your words make his cock twitch in his hold as the fire builds in his belly. 

Through your whole-hearted promises and wanting moans, he can hear the sound of your slick through the receiver. The static reception doesn’t do it justice, but the wet click of your fingers working you open was unmistakable.

A moan grumbles in his throat as he digs the crown of his head back into his pillow. “Holy fuck— I can hear you, baby.”

“I’m so wet for you, Eds,” you tell him through fragile slurs, like it wasn’t inherently obvious. 

You were wrong before, about wanting to hide from him. You couldn’t conceal your need for Eddie if you tried. The honey you drip, all sweet and just for him, wouldn’t let you keep it a secret.

“I know, baby, I know,” he nearly coos. “Are you— fuck, please tell me you’re close?”

“Yes,” you promise in a whine. Your thumb presses harder into your clit. It makes your thighs tense until they’re shaking.

“You rubbing your clit for me, sweetheart?” he asks like he knows. “I know that’s what you like.”

You whimper, working at the spongy spot within you as your hips buck off the bed. “Yeah.”

“Keep rubbing yourself like that for me, okay? Want you to keep going until you come for me.”

If he keeps talking to you like that, it’ll come a lot quicker than he’s prepared for. 

It’s too soft to be much of a demand, but you listen obediently anyway, rubbing at yourself though your sensitivity keeps building. It grows like a morning tide, rising and flowing like white waves on an ocean, stirring something fierce in the depths of your stomach.

“Eddie,” you sigh out his name, broken through staggered pants.

You hear his stuttering breaths, too. “Y—Yeah?”

“I’m about to come,” you promise through a whine when the familiar crescendo sends a shock through your body.

“O… Okay,” he responds, pathetically, then whines, even more so.

“Want you to come with me… Please…”

“Fuck— okay. Shit, sweetheart, I’m almost there.”

“What are you thinking about?” you ask him.

“Your pussy,” he answers without thinking — he’s not doing a whole lot of that anymore. “Wish I’d gotten to taste you earlier. Wanna feel you… fuck… Wanna feel you come on my tongue.”

“Holy shit, Eds,” you moan at his words, at the vivid picture they paint in your head.

“And you get so… God, you get so fucking wet. Just want you to drench me, baby.”

It feels good, to be complimented for something boys used to make fun of you for, to realize for the first time that’s it’s sexy — that you’re sexy — and that Eddie is more than happy to drown in you. The feeling almost rivals the impending orgasm that’s bound to hit you like a tidal wave.

“I’m thinking about how I coulda took you on that bench… Just, fucking, get on my knees for you. Shove my head between your legs. Hold your— shit, baby— hold your thighs open, keep you exactly where I want you,” he rambles but then cuts himself off to moan at his own words. “Goddamn, sweetheart. Wanna taste you so fucking bad.”

The moan you let out is pitiful. It leaves your mouth in the most delicate cry. 

No picture has ever been clearer than the one of Eddie between your thighs, your hands knotted in his hair to move him to exactly where you need him most and forcing him there. You can feel his fingers digging into your hips, his rings pressed against your burning skin, and the way your legs tremble on either side of his head.

“Yeah. Keep— Keep doing that. Keep moaning for me,” Eddie tells you. “I’m about to… holy fuck, I’m about to come.”

“Wanna feel your tongue in me so bad, Eds,” you whimper, egged on by the moan he lets out. “Want your cock even more.”

That’s what does him in, the assurance — the promise — that you want him just as bad as he wants you. 

He tightens his fist around his cock, achingly hard and raging a crimson at the tip, trying to imitate the way you’d feel around him. It’s not all that close, not nearly as wet as the honey you’d be dripping for him, but his imagination does the rest of the work for him. 

All at once, you’re on top of him, riding him for all he’s worth, your pussy threatening to swallow him whole. You’ve drenched him, just like he’d begged for, and that wet schlick noise still echoing from the receiver is the evidence of each of your assured thrusts over top of him. 

You’re still pleading for him anyway — for more, for his tongue, for his cock — and he wants so desperately to give everything to you.

“Oh god, baby—” he sputters. He grips the phone in a white-knuckled, fist trembling. “Oh, fuck, I’m coming, baby.”

“Please, Eddie. Please come for me,” you plead over the low sounds of the forgotten film playing across the room and all the dirty wet sounds your pussy makes against your fingers. You sound like you need it, like you want his orgasm more than your own.

“Want you to come with me… Can you— Can you do that for me, sweetheart? Please?” It’s not dirty talk anymore. He’s actually fucking begging you and doesn’t feel the least bit ashamed to do so. 

He wants to hear all the pretty noises you make when you come — that initial cry that stems from the depths of your soul, the high-pitched whimpers that come when the sensitivity builds, and the whines that leave you when it ebbs.

He wants to hear it over and over and over again, like a worn cassette, and play it until the tape spins out.

“Yes…” you promise through a set of stuttering breaths.

There’s no talking when either of you come. Eddie’s long forgotten to talk you through it, but you would barely hear him if he had. The phone slips out of your hand when your grip slackens and it falls to the pillow beside your head.

You chase your orgasm full throttle, working through the crescendo and the strikes of lightning, focusing only on his muffled moaning and the pretty sounds he makes as he comes. 

The breath of your name whimpered through a tight throat is what does it for you. Your body has hardly any time to warn you before you’re gushing all over your fingers, twitching every time the pad of your thumb rubs over clit.

That cry, the one you always let out as you come — all wet and full of need — makes Eddie orgasm right alongside you. 

He swipes his thumb over his head again, collecting the pearls of precum gathering there and sliding them down the base to squeeze himself there like he’d been doing this whole time. He clutches harder this time, imagines it's your cunt locking him in a vice-like grip, and whines in his throat when he comes.

Several loads of it spill onto his cotton boxers, most of it gathering along the side of his hand and dripping down his knuckles. His breath staggers as he works himself through his high, praising you through the phone like you’re the one who brought him to it. 

“Fuck, baby… You’re so good… So fucking good.”

You’ve long settled from your own orgasm, still tingly and numb in some places, but not as gone as you had been just moments before. You still float on a cloud, getting lost as you stare through your window at the half-hidden stars sprinkling the night sky and feeling as though you could reach out and touch them.

You can feel the satin moonlight bathing you, and the jittery static of the neon of the television screen. You can feel everything and somehow nothing at all. 

“I don’t know how you do it, Eds,” you confess, hardly thinking about the words spilling from your mouth when you lazily bring the phone to your ear again.

“Do what, sweetheart?”

“I don’t know… You always make me feel good. Even when you’re not here… Even when we’re not getting each other off.”

“I feel the same way,” he promises you, all mushy, even though he feels like a slob for wiping his hand off on his discarded jeans on his bed. “Just… wish you were here.”

“I wish I was there, too… Wish I could clean you up.”

Eddie’s eyes shut tight as his head tilts back to his pillow at the thought. “Fuck… You’re gonna make me hard again, sweetheart.”

You perk up suddenly as an idea sprouts like a flower in your head. A smile blooms on your lips, and you rise up onto your elbows, glowing with an unanticipated excitement. “How long would it take you to get ready?”

“…Get ready?” he echoes.

“Yeah,” is all you say.

“I mean, I— I don’t know. I figure if I put on some new underwear and a fresh pair of pants, I’ll be good as new... Why?”

“You wanna do something?” 

“Yeah. Sure. Anything,” he answers clumsily in place of saying, ‘Anything to not have to be without you.’

“I wanna go to Skull Rock.”

“Skull Rock?” he repeats. 

Legend has it, you and Steve made that place a local landmark. People have always said that Hopper caught the both of you one too many times up at Lover’s Lake and the Quarry, that you needed a more hidden place to fuck. So you’d stumbled around in the middle of the woods until you found a place the chief wouldn’t think to look for you.

You’d certainly found it. Then every other horny high schooler did too.

It’s the place you go to fuck, the most private place in all of Hawkins — hell, maybe even Indiana entirely for teenagers who can’t get the house to themselves. And as appealing as it sounds, to take you beneath a sky of twinkling stars, Eddie doesn’t want his first time with you to be on dirt or in the middle of the woods. That’s how all the horror movies start, don’t they?

So, needless to say, your answer takes him by surprise.

“Yeah! You can see all the stars really good from there. It’s too hard to see them so close to town.”

Eddie’s heart swells all at once at how sweet you are, like sugar poured directly onto his tongue. You’re not eager to be without him either, it seems, and that thought is as gratifying as it is thrilling. 

You’re an adventure he’s about to go on, without a map or a way out, a journey he’s happy to go into blind as long as you’re holding his hand the entire way through it.

It breaks his heart to hang up the phone. He practically begs you to do it for him, and it makes you laugh — a kind giggle entwined with a tease ‘you’re such a baby.’ It rings in his ears long after the receiver clicks.

Most of all, he hates all the stoplights that separate your place from his. He hadn’t known where you lived before now, not until you uttered it over the phone. He makes a mental note to figure out a quicker way, somewhere through the winding back roads that his old van can speed through to make the distance less daunting.

He pulls into your apartment complex, a quaint two-story thing on the quieter side of town, where the woods are plentiful and the street lamps far fewer. He turns his radio down out of respect for all your neighbors that he’s sure he’ll never meet and spies you through the neon orange porch lights. You shut and lock your door in quick succession, then scurry across the way to meet him.

Eddie leans over to unlock the passenger side door for you, already beaming, and finds you’re smiling too when you climb in next to him. The grin you shoot his way outshines the night sky and makes a bright yellow sun of the girl sitting in his passenger seat.

“Hi,” you’d greeted him, all shy like you didn’t just make him come all over his hand thirty minutes ago.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he volleys back like he always does, with that big ol’ smirk and teasing lilt as he cock his head to the side — using his playfulness to cover up the bashful mess you so easily reduce him too.

Neither of you had gotten particularly dressed up to see each other. All he did was put on fresh under and pajama pants. You succumbed to a smilier laziness it seems, haphazardly brushing through your half-damp hair, throwing on a too big t-shirt, and calling it a day. 

The cotton hangs low at your chest, stretched out and obviously well-loved. It falls well past your thigh, though you spend much of the drive anxiously tugging it down. 

It makes him wonder what you’re wearing beneath it. If you’ve tugged on a pair of shorts or if you’re in the bra and (undoubtedly wet) underwear you’d told him you were wearing over the phone. 

Eddie winds himself up all over again while you sift through the flimsy case of endless cassettes he keeps tucked in the glove compartment that never quite shuts all the way.

“How do you now have any ABBA tapes?” you wonder like it’s baffling, with an Iron Maiden tape in one hand and Cinderella in the other. Metallica plays lowly, nearly inaudibly, from the stereo.

Eddie laughs and darts his eyes from the darkened back roads to look at you, all smiley and bathed in moonlight, before turning back to the road again. “Uh, because I’m not a thirty-year-old woman. That’s the shit moms listen to.”

“Moms and hot girls,” you retort jokingly.

“Right, moms and hot girls listen to ABBA — of which, I am neither, sweetheart. Sorry to be the one to break it to you… Besides, it’s not like you walk around listening to, fucking, I don’t know— Van Halen or whatever.”

“Hey. I listen to Van Halen,” you shoot back.

He scoffs. “Yeah, right.”

“It’s got what it takes!” you sing suddenly, not quite catching the rhythm of the song, but smiling anyway as you reach for his forearm resting on the center console. “So tell me why can’t this be love!”

“Oh, my god— that’s literally their worst song,” Eddie chuckles through the widest grin you’ve ever seen from him. 

It makes you smile big too, looking like an idiot who’s totally head over heels for the boy next to her. And of that, you’re happily guilty of.

“Not true,” you shake your head defiantly. “I love that song.”

“So that means it has to be good, right?” he retorts playfully, shooting you a teasing look, though his beam is more than sincere.

“Obviously,” you answer with a scoff that makes Eddie roll his eyes.

He knows he’s going to start to love it, though, if only because it’s the only Van Halen song you halfway know.

He’s going to hear that song on the radio and he’s going to want to turn it, but he’s going to remember this moment now — the one with you reaching for him while you sing the lyrics to a song he can’t stand, sitting pretty in his passenger seat, while the moonlight blanches your smile and the bare skin of your thighs.

Eddie Munson is going to love that goddamn song for the rest of his life.

He parks as close as he can to Skull Rock, knowing his van can’t work its way that far into the woods. The two of you are forced to walk the rest of the way, not exactly minding it, though Eddie’s incessantly worried you’re going to get cold. 

He’s already forced his jacket upon you, which you took with little fight. It warmed you almost immediately — with his cozy heat and musky cologne.

You make mindless conversation the entire way there, about music and then about his band and then what animal you’d want to be in your band if that were the least bit possible. Eddie chooses a sheep without any hesitation, though you’re confident that a penguin would be far cooler. 

You keep a careful distance between you, at first, like both of you are too scared to initiate the first move. That is, until you trip over a raised branch and nearly eat ass on the forest floor. Then Eddie’s holding your hand the entire way, keeping you close.

“If you wanted me to hold your hand, you coulda just said so, you know?” he jokes. “Didn’t have to go through all the dramatics, sweetheart.”

You try and yank your hand out of his grip in protest then, but he doesn’t let you. In fact, he pulls you closer and twirls you into a bear hug that you happily relax into.

He feels your sigh fan against his collarbone as you rest your head at the nape of his neck, his arms wrap around your shoulders as yours settle at his waist. He rocks you back in forth, in a moment that’s too almost sweet to make fun of.

Eddie finds a way, of course, “See?” he singsongs. “I’ll hug you like this all the time, if you want. You don’t have to almost kill yourself to get my attention, babe.”

“All I did was trip,” you laugh at his theatrics.

“Death by tree root… What a gnarly way to go.”

He holds your hand the entire way to Skull Rock. 

He doesn’t let you go once, not until you’re ascending the large boulders to plant yourselves at the very peak of them. He’s grabbing you again once you settle, though, and the two of you just sit there, for several long moments, just gaping at the stars that dance with life above you. They sprinkle an infinite void with enough light that manages to touch you, trillions of miles away.

There’s a subtle beauty in that Eddie never would’ve appreciated before now.

“Shit, babe,” he breathes through a whimsical existential dread. “You were right. The stars are really fucking pretty out here.” 

You love how much he loves this, to come to Skull Rock with you and count the stars. Any other guy would’ve had their tongue down your throat by now, stuffing your hand down their unbuttoned jeans.

But not Eddie.

He just holds your hand because he likes the feeling of his fingers entwined with yours, grasping tightly onto you while he gazes at an infinite universe — like you might float off right along with it.

His neck is stretched to gape at the night sky. You catch his adam’s apple bobbing every time he swallows. You want so desperately to kiss his milky white skin and sprinkle blotchy red bruises there.

His curly locks fall over his shoulders. He shakes his head to get his bangs out of his eyes while the chocolate buttons of them dart around the endless void.

He’s more beautiful than every star in the sky combined. You can’t be sure of how many that is, of course, but it’s a whole bunch if you had to guess. It makes sense, though, for the prettiest boy in the whole damn galaxy.

“Told ya,” you answer with a smile, leaning over to nudge his shoulder with yours. “You come out here often?”

You’re asking if he takes girls here and he knows it, but it’s not like you’re being inconspicuous about the whole thing. Eddie gauges it almost immediately, the subtle jealousy hinting at your tone — something no one else would’ve caught — and he squeezes your hand in reassurance.

He shakes his head. “No… Never.”

“Never?” you press with raised brows, like his answer shocks you.

“Ever. It’s not really my scene, I guess… But what about you, sweetheart? Never seen you around these parts before.”

You knock his shoulder again, harder this time.  “Shut up. You already know the answer to that.”

“Yeah…” he nods to himself, eyes darting back and forth as he reminisces on something. “You and Harrington, you and Hargrove. Hell, I think I heard about you and Jason one time—”

“That was a long time ago,” you argue. “Before I even knew you, okay?”

“I’m just saying,” he shrugs in defense. “You totally have a thing for pretty boys, sweetheart.”

“I never said I didn’t, Eds. Just that you were pretty, too.”

“Whatever,” he scoffs and rolls his eyes like he isn’t glowing red beneath the moonlight.

“You’re better than all three of them, Eds,” you confess with a sudden softness that catches his attention almost immediately. He turns his attention from the sky to look at you properly again. His breath catches at you sad you look — all beautiful and coated in shades of blue.

“…Yeah?”

You nod and drag his hand into your lap to fidget with his fingers. You trace the skeleton heart on his middle finger, subverting all your attention there because it’s easier than having to look at him now. “Better than all of them combined— not even just them, you know? Out of everyone. No one’s ever been this nice to be before.”

“Me neither, sweetheart,” he confesses with a morose grin. “The freak of Hawkins High attracts a lot of assholes, believe it or not.”

“Is it bad?” you wonder cautiously, like you’re scared to hear the answer. In some ways, you are. 

You hadn’t known him in high school, not really. For obvious reasons, you ran in very different circles. You never even had classes together. There was never any excuse to be close to each other before now, never a reason to become friends. So you didn’t.

You grew to know him as a freak, and he knew you as the town slut. Then somewhere down the line, he became your dealer and now… here you were. 

But you’ve graduated now and he’s still army crawling towards a diploma. You couldn’t save him from the hell of Hawkins High even if you wanted to.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” he shrugs. “Jason and the dick brigade just wanna make my life hell, that’s all.”

“I hope they aren’t,” you respond shyly.

Eddie scoffs then shoots you a smile. “Oh, of course not. Look at me. I’m at Skull Rock with the most wanted girl in Hawkins. I’m living the dream, sweetheart.”

“So you don’t care?” you wonder, peering at him through your lashes, as you twist the silver cross around his finger.

“Care about what?” 

“That I’m a slut,” you laugh like it’s obvious.

Eddie doesn’t think it’s all that funny. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s not like it isn’t true, Eds,” you retort with a trembling smile. “I mean, that’s literally what people call me — most people don’t even care to call me by my real name anymore.”

“I don’t care,” Eddie shakes his head. “I don’t care about that. I don’t give a shit about what people say about you. If everyone cared about what everyone said about everyone, neither of us would be here right now… Because you’d think I was some devil-worshipping freak and I’d think you were too busy getting it on with Chief Hopper.”

You screw your face up immediately at the thought. The mere idea was repulsive. The asshole was practically your father these days. Jim Hopper was in that small bunch of available people you would never fuck, and happily so. 

“I’d never stoop that low,” you joke.

“I like you, how you are, right now,” Eddie promises. “Don’t want you to change a damn thing.” 

His brown eyes twinkle with a sincerity that rivals the stars above you. All of a sudden, you don’t care about a bunch of heavenly bodies light years away from you — you care about this man, the one sitting beside you now, holding your hand even though your palms have gone all sweaty.

It’s too good to be true — the way you looks at you, the way he talks to you, the way he treats you. You’re scared that it’s a dream, that you’ll wake up and find that none of this was ever real. Or worse, that he was, and that he just didn’t care about you the way you cared about him.

It’s almost irrational. Almost. 

But it’s happened before. 

And it’s left you a scarred and mangled mess.

You shake your head to yourself and scrunch your face as you turn to look him. “Have you ever done this before, Eddie?”

“Don’t what?” he wonders with furrowed brows.

“I don’t know…” you shrug. “Any of this? With anyone else?”

He’s grateful he doesn’t have to lie. Or tell some clumsy half-truth for the sake of saving his own skin. He realizes tonight is perhaps the most honest he’s ever been with you, baring his pale soul beneath a silver moonlight. 

“Never,” he answers, unwavering, with a firm shake of his head.

“Really?”

“Really,” he nods, then swallows thickly at a gut-wrenching realization. “I’ve never felt his way about anyone else before.’

“Me neither,” you promise. 

It’s a tad more meaningful coming from you than from a boy who’s never had someone to love and to love him back.

You’re experienced, you’ve found what you like and what you don’t like. You’ve been with guys who have given you the world and guys that have ended yours altogether. And out of all of them — all of the assholes in Hawkins you could’ve picked — you’ve chosen the freak. 

You want him. 

You want Eddie.

The revelation makes him grin. “Promise?”

“Cross my heart, Eddie Spaghetti.”

[anton-luvr]

hi ! can i request bf!eunseok giving fem!reader special treatment and friend group!riize realising it and teasing him about it ? thank youu <3

# ANYTHING FOR YOU.

⚝ bf!eunseok x fem!reader | fluff | highschool au, secret relationship au ⚝ note ; im so sorry that this took so long anon T_T im also not sure if its what you were hoping for, so im sorry if its not :') but thank u for requesting! <3

Along with the end of the year, comes final exams, last minute cleaning out your lockers, and of course - school parties.

And with your class being famous for throwing the best school parties, almost everyone in your year had crowded into your classroom.

Tables were pushed aside to make space, only leaving a few in the center for the best game of all - rock, paper, scissors.

But there was a twist, thanks to Sohee's genius but devious mind.

"Whoever loses has to drink my special drink!" he shouted across the noise, waving a plastic cup in the air.

It was definitely special with whatever the hell Sohee mixes in to it.

There was a combination of every soda in the room, along with a spoon of nacho cheese, a splash of chili sauce, dumplings stolen from Anton's lunch, pizza crumbs, and a concerning amount of pickles.

Not only did it smell disgusting, it also looked disgusting.

But hey, you only live once.

So here you were, up next after Wonbin to play the game against Sungchan, who had been winning five games in a row.

"Hey, are you sure?" Eunseok whispers, gently tugging you back towards him by the elbow.

"Yeah, why?" you ask, eyes sparkling with excitement.

"Well, don't get me wrong, but you usually lose in rock paper scissors." your boyfriend says sheepishly, laughing when you jokingly punch him in the stomach.

"I'll win this time, just watch." you boasted, practicing your skills by throwing random signs in his face to show just how prepared you were.

"Sure, you'll totally win." Eunseok teases, pinching your cheek lightly.

You'd punch him in the stomach again, but Sohee announces that it's now your turn.

"Wish me luck!" you squeal before walking up to the table, a determined smile on your lips.

"Ready to lose?" Sungchan asks, looking relaxed.

You scoff, stretching your hand out. "You should ask yourself that question." you retort, challenging him.

"Alright, Sungchan vs Y/N! Start!" Sohee shouts, making another cup of his special drink for the loser.

Things get intense the moment Sungchan starts the game off, the brown haired guy mumbling the chant before throwing out the sign of his choice.

You win the first two rounds, and sweet victory was just one more round away.

Until Sungchan won the following two rounds, the results of your game all relying on the final round.

Your lips are pursed together nervously, confidence slipping away as you try to focus harder.

"Rock, paper, scissors... shoot!" he shouts, and you throw a scissor sign.

Sungchan throws out a rock sign at the same time, instantly winning over you while everyone screamed in surprise and disappointment.

Dread fills your chest when you realize you have to drink Sohee's special drink, the boy already making his way over to you with the cursed plastic cup in his hands.

"Chug! Chug! Chug!" the crowd cheers as you take the cup from Sohee, shifting nervously on your feet.

You peer cautiously into the cup to see a marshmallow from god knows where floating above the greyish-brown liquid, a smear of chili sauce at the side while a bittersweet smell hit your nostrils.

"I added more things! Enjoy!" Sohee sings out before joining in with the crowd to cheer you on.

All you can do is sigh and take a deep breath, eyes closing shut to prepare yourself for the mess you got yourself into.

But the cup has barely touched your lips when you feel someone snatching it right out of your hands, and your eyes fly open to see Eunseok downing it all in one go.

The crowd cheers even louder, screams of 'That's so sweet!' and 'He's so cool!' bouncing off the walls.

You're still blinking in shock as he sets the cup down on the table, wiping at his lips with the back of his hand.

"Not bad." he says casually, shrugging.

The crowd just about loses it at this, and you see people shoving Sohee around and telling him to amp up on the next drink.

"No, no, wait!" he shrieks, waving his arms around for everyone to shut up.

"Why'd you drink it for her? She was going to drink it." he asks, eyebrows raised suspiciously at his best friend.

Eunseok freezes with an awkward smile, face slowly turning red as he tries to come up with an explanation.

"I-I just wanted to try it. That's all." he coughs, eyes glued to the floor.

"Really?" Seunghan butts in, smirking at the both of you. "You and Y/N are starting to look like the fire hydrant outside."

"Well, it's hot in here!" you protest, fanning at your flushed face.

"Yeah, and the drink might make her sick!" Eunseok adds.

The crowd lets out an amused 'Ooooh!' at this, and it's Shotaro's turn to say something.

"Don't you think the drink might've made Wonbin sick too? But you didn't drink it for him. What, are the both of you dating?" he teases, giggling.

"Well, so what if we are?" You blurt.

Eunseok turns to look at you so fast, you could hear a small snap go off in his neck.

Everyone starts screaming at this, the noise making you wince.

"You are?" Anton repeats, eyes wide with surprise. "You're capable of love after all!" he cheers, patting Eunseok on the back.

His face turns impossibly redder as he smiles, scratching the back of his head.

"I knew it! I always knew something was going on between the both of them!" Sohee screeches, running over to squeeze Eunseok in a hug.

"Alright, stop bothering them!" Sungchan hollers, knowing the unwanted attention was probably making the both of you slightly uncomfortable. "Who's next?"

He successfully diverts everyone's attention back to the game, and you let out a sigh of relief when the both of you are left alone.

"I'm so sorry about that, I didn't mean to shout it out like that and I was just surprised because you drank it, and I was-"

Eunseok cuts off your ramble with a kiss to the lips, strong and passionate.

"Don't worry about it," he whispers, smiling softly at you as he tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear. "It's about time they knew anyway."

His words make your heart race, and you can't help but avoid his intense stare.

"W-Wasn't the drink bad?" you stuttered, trying to change the topic.

He shrugs again, slowly backing you against a corner of the wall.

"It was fine." he says, so close that you could feel his breath against your lips.

"I'd do anything for you." he whispers, and he presses his lips right against yours.

The fact that there are almost a hundred of other people in the room with you fades out of your mind at the feeling of his lips, so warm and so soft but so aggressive at the same time.

It would be embarrassing if you got caught, but as long as it was with your lovely boyfriend, you wouldn't mind.

He'd do anything for you, and you'd do anything for him too.

© anton-luvr, 2023.

taglist: @wonbons @mxlly143 @keehobaldboy @shawyle @yenart

[mintsv]

can u do play fighting w gunwook scenarios plz 🙏

play fighting w/ bf! gunwook ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 🫐 ⋆˚˖

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park gunwook x gn!reader

synopsis : scenario / imagine kinda thing about you and your boyfriend (gunwook) having a play fight when he crashed into your house on a particularly lazy sunday.

genre : fluff, the slightest angst

wc : 1k

-> note : thanks for the request anon ^^ i hope you like it! (also i know you said scenarios but i kinda got overboard and it's a whole imagine now i hope you don't mind 😅)

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today was a really boring sunday for you, the plans you made with your friends were suddenly cancelled and your boyfriend had dance practice, so you were absentmindedly lying in bed scrolling through social media while sighing for the umpteenth time.

the ring of your doorbell caught you off guard, your ears perked up and you were basically running to the door just hoping for any kind of social interaction. the moment you opened it, you thought god was playing tricks with you. there stood your adorable boyfriend wearing his black t-shirt that looked a bit too good on him, a bouquet of fragrant tulips held in front of his chest and of course his sickeningly cute gummy smile. (sorry if that was too descriptive i love gw)

"hi~ are you surprised?" he said that so casually like you haven't been CRAVING for him the past 2 hours so you greeted him with a well needed hug, gunwook pushes you slightly backwards to close the door behind him without breaking the hug.

"I thought you had dance practice?" you look up from his chest, judging him because you thought he skipped for you.

"don't worry i didn't skip, i was too good at it so the teacher let me off early!" you nod in response as he hands you over the tulips.

"it's so pretty! what's the occassion?" you ask again, admiring the prettily arranged bouquet with your favorite scent and you could feel the heat rise to your cheeks from your boyfriends sweet antics.

"nothing really, i just wanted to give you these since they have your favorite scent and all, do you like it?" you thought he asked a dumb question, well of course you liked it but you were worried you've fallen a bit too hard for your boyfriend now.

"no, i hate it." you said sarcastically, playfully hitting his chest and turning away so he couldn't see your flushed cheeks but you panicked when you saw him he held the area where you hit his chest and started to frown like a sad puppy.

"you.. hate it?" he starts wiping his fake tears and sniffling. you were quite gullible so gunwook continued his silly act and he was surprised himself how you could believe his horrible acting.

"no no wait i didn't mean that, i was joking i love it i really do wookie! please don't cry.." you start to get really nervous so you run to him, comforting him.

gunwook turned away from you, pretending to sulk like a little kid and you really believed him because you start to get so worried that tears have pooled in your eyes unconsciously.

"wookie i'm sorry i didn't mean it.." you hug him, burying your face in his broad back. gunwook's ears perked up when he suddenly heard your (real) sniffles and he immediately turns around.

"wait wait y/n are you crying? i was just joking i'm not sad. I'm perfectly fine! it was just an act─"

"you're not sad?" your tears stopped before they could fall to your cheeks, it finally clicked for you and you start crazily trying to beat him up.

gunwook used his forearms as a shield while you were basically clawing and punching him, gunwook was saying a bunch of sorry's and giggling while you struggled to get revenge on him considering his rather bigger frame. your efforts were soon wasted when gunwook fought back by tickling you, forcing you to surrender almost immediately when his well built arms entrapped you.

gunwook lifted you up to his shoulder like he would carry a wood log. carrying you all the way to your bedroom before he continues tickling you on your bed. your giggles felt addicting to him (not in a creepy way) and he couldn't help but grin ear to ear.

the anger you felt before was soon forgotten as you two continued to play fight, you had tried to get gunwook off you multiple times but it was near impossible to beat him in a physical fight so you had to think of another way to make him off guard.

it was as if a light bulb lit up above your head as you thought of the perfect strategy. you quickly place your hands at the back of his neck before lunging forward to kiss him. gunwook's arms froze around your waist and you took the opportunity to flip him over so that you'd be on top of him.

"hey that's not fair kissing wasn't in the rules!" gunwook complained, his cheeks flushing a deep shade of crimson as you failed to contain your laughter.

"are you really laughing right now?" he takes the pillow beside him before landing a straight blow to your head (gently). you fought back by taking another pillow hitting him right on the face.

the pillow fight continued for about 5 minutes before you gave up, exhausted. you land on the spot beside him, breathing heavily while your hair stuck on your forehead from the accumulated sweat. although gunwook seemed entirely unhinged from the 5 minutes of arm swinging. he was laying beside you panting a little but his gaze fixed onto you, a small admiring smile grazing his lips.

"so about the kiss.. do i have to playfight with you first or can i get one right now?" you turn to him, his face still slightly pink making you chuckle.

"i never knew you could be this cute." those words spilled unconsciously from your mouth, resulting in a scoff from gunwook.

"i'm not." he said.

"sure.."

gunwook wanted to prove to you so badly he wasn't just cute so he did the 'manliest' move he could think of. he leaned in and pecked your lips for a split second, it seemed that the universe wasn't on his side because the moment he saw you smile at him in such a close proximity he thought his heart had stopped. his flushed out face and thumping heart really didn't do him any justice because you thought he had become impossibly cuter.

"gunwook-ah we should play fight like this more often, it really brings out your cuter side"

"shut up."

[ixiot-ghostrebel]

hello!! um I really liked the whole Military Creator you've written!

I'm wondering how would some of the boys/men react to that!

for example, Zhongli/Xiao as they have fought in wars before or Childe for his bloodlust. Feel free to add anyone you want too!

Headcanons: Zhongli, Xiao, and Childe Reacting to Reader being a Veteran Military Soldier.

Ah, I see, Anon! Here y'all go :) I hope you enjoy it!

Click Me For the Women Version!

Disclaimers: Might be OOC, Implied Violence/Battle, Mentions of Scars!)

Zhongli

This man. This old immortal man that is a dragon. He knows war like the back of his hand. Kinda quite literally, since once upon a time, some people hailed him as the God of War (Sorry Murata).

To hear that Reader was a former Military Officer for a nation you didn't run nor found, you just increased Zhongli's respect by a HUGE amount. There's no denying it.

"If you don't mind, Your Grace, may you tell me a few stories of your past experiences in battle?" Very attentive listener. He won't push if you leave a few details out, even if he is curious.

Honestly loves to listen to you and your stories! He commends you for your victories, and solemn your lost of the cherished ones. Zhongli is all too familiar with war, and it's very relatable.

Your tea talks with him are now more and more interesting, to say the least. You might be invited from Zhongli for tea instead of the other way around!

Xiao

General Alatus himself...the Vigilant Yaksha doesn't take war all too well. You can say that he's got extreme PTSD from it, and really—that's pretty much an understatement alone.

Won't push the topic much, since this boy does not want you to be stuck in a traumatic time, but he is curious about your military days, since you don't seem all that bothered of what you experienced.

However! This doesn't mean he won't want to check up on you. He may not be...good with emotions, but he's certainly going to try, for the Almighty Creator's sake!

"Your Grace....forgive my prying, but are you...okay?" He cringes just listening to himself ask the question. It felt like he was trying to make your achievements an understatement or a cheap byproduct.

Constantly remind this guy that what he asked hadn't upset or hurt you. This man is notorious for self-sacrifice and self-blame.

Overall, spending time with Xiao is probably good therapy for the both of you, in a way. keep up the tea time, because this man will eventually open up and actually relax and enjoy tea with you!

Childe

A little too thrilled to hear that the Almighty Creator has gone through war.

Immediately pounces on the matter. No cap.

"Your Grace, care to share some battle experiences with me?" Has an absolute gleeful and menacing smile on his face as his dead eyes shine brightly at you, boring into your soul.

Of course, he won't push for details—boy just wants to know the battles and fights you were in.

However, that doesn't mean he's heartless. He'll share your sentiment if a battle brought loss to your loved ones. Childe himself can't imagine losing one of his siblings. Ever.

Tea time with Childe is basically verbal sparring. You both are fighting by comparing your battles with one another. And it never ends.

And that's it! I hope you all like it :) Sorry for being so inactive these days—motivation keeps killing me, I swear. See you all around soon!

Ghost Rebel Side Notes: If you're waiting for The Lost Shining God of Celestia or Forver In My Hold finale part—It's coming, don't worry! My brain isn't just motivated just yet, but it will be it out!

✦ Check out The Ghost Rebel’s Blog Description & Info Page to See if Their Mailbox is Open! ✦

[jongbross]

i just found you and love love love your writing! if you’re able to, can you do a frenemy to lover (suggestive maybe ) with baekhyun. both are in same friend group but never got along. thank you for your hard work, i love your content

red flag (byun baekhyun x f!reader)

pairing: byun baekhyun x f!reader word count: almost 2k genre: fluffy? i think it suits the best warnings: cursing, mentions of hook ups, alcohol. chanyeol has a good heart, he's just a mess please bare with him a/n: tysm for your support, anon! i got carried away with this, and i still didn't finished. hope you like it anyway <3

"i can't believe this", chanyeol said, wide eyes staring at baekhyun. 

"what?", the short one tried to act nonchalant about it. "he asked for it!"

"dude, you just stood up for y/n!"

never in a million years did chanyeol think he would witness byun baekhyun saying something nice about you - well, technically, he didn't say something nice, but he gave that stupid guy you hooked up with last week a piece of his mind, after saying guy called you a not very nice thing in front of him.

"yeah, so what?", baekhyun shrugged. 

you and baekhyun have been enemies forever. at least if you can call two people who hang out a lot, have the same circle of friendship, and have known each other for almost 20 years "enemies"...

the two of you never got along. it was even quite funny to your friends, see you two bickering every single day but never, ever being able to stay away from each other.

"of course it is a big deal, you hate her!"

"i don't hate her", baekhyun frowned. "i just don't like the way she acts. but that doesn't mean i don't care about her, so of course i wouldn't let that bastard say shit about her."

"well, he was a bastard...", chanyeol agreed.

last week, at a college party, you hooked up with some random dude one of your classmates had introduced to you. he was cute and all, but he definitely was a walking red flag, baekhyun had seen it before everyone else. his suspicions were confirmed when he heard the guy telling chanyeol "where is that bitch friend of yours?".

"wow, yeollie, didn't know you were friends with his mom! how does it feel to hang out with old people?"

childish comeback, i know. but it's byun baekhyun, what did you expect?

"you think you're so funny, byun...", the guy had said.

"thank you! that's only one of the many things i am, and you're not."

"just fuck off, dude", chanyeol rolled his eyes.

"yeah, whatever. just tell y/n that she ain't worth anyway, i had better."

"say her name one more time, and i swear you won't be here to see her not giving a fuck about you", baekhyun stared the dude dead in the eyes.

"exactly", baekhyun nodded. "any other guy would be lucky to be with her..."

"i'm sorry, come again?"

baekhyun looked at chanyeol, who was typing like crazy on his phone. thank god he didn't listen to that. "nothing, i was just thinking out loud."

the taller one hummed in response, quickly engaging in a phone call and forgetting about their talk.

(...)

days went by, and luckily it was friday night again.

happily walking into another house party with your best friend, you took a look around to scan the place. you noticed a few colleagues at the right corner, followed by some of your classmates - you waved at taeyong, who shot you a thumbs up and mouthed a “looking good” -, and then the dude you hooked up with at the last party. all he did was look at you from head to toe and then frown, quickly looking away like he was somewhat disgusted by you.

your best friend seemed to notice too, as he whispered to you. “what was that?”

“i don’t know”, you answered minseok. “he didn’t text me back the next morning.”

“asshole”, minseok cursed.

you chuckled, pulling him by the arm when you finally noticed your group at the very left corner of the party. junmyeon was talking to his crush, while chanyeol, sehun and baekhyun were heartily discussing something - probably their new favorite e-game or whatever.

“hello”, minseok said, dropping on the couch next to sehun, caressing his hair.

“hi, hyung!”, sehun answered, waving away his hand. “could you please tell chanyeol that the only way he can get over the phase he’s stuck on is by using the bow and arrow?”

minseok looked between them like a confused old mom. “wait, what?”

“they’ve been arguing about that for the whole night now”, baekhyun complained, rolling his eyes.

“and you’re probably annoyed because you’re also stuck at that phase and are too proud to use sehun’s tip, am i right?”

your comeback at baekhyun made everyone go silent. of course the two of you started the bickering already.

“hello to you too, y/n”, baekhyun said. “i’m not gonna indulge in your silly little competition tonight, i’m sorry.”

“oh, of course! you have always been a coward, it’s no surprise at all.”

chanyeol laughed out loud at that, being shut by both sehun and minseok holding him back on the couch and giving him the eyes.

“ha ha, how funny of you!”, baekhyun faked a smile.

“if you think he’s a coward you should have seen what he said to that guy you slept with… what’s his name again?”, chanyeol drunkenly mumbled.

at that, baekhyun froze. he snapped his head at chanyeol, praying that the giant dumbass would see in his eyes how he was desperately begging ‘please, don’t mention that, please!’.

but it’s chanyeol we’re talking about. of course he was clueless.

“who? the dude from the mechanics class?”, sehun asked.

“yes!”, chanyeol shouted excitedly. “he was talking shit about y/n this week, but baekhyun made sure to put him in his place.”

you looked over at baekhyun. the poor dude was doing everything in his power to avoid your gaze, while torturing chanyeol in a hundred different ways in his mind. he was playing with minseok’s blouse now, mumbling something like “this is nice, is it silk?”.

“is that why he’s avoiding me?”, you asked loud and clear, and by the tone of your voice, chanyeol knew he had fucked up. he looked over at minseok, who just shook his head.

when baekhyun didn’t answer, you scoffed. “of course i could count on you to ruin everything.”

you walked away at that, walking towards the kitchen. you vaguely heard minseok and sehun calling you back, but you opted to ignore them. all you needed was something strong burning down your throat now.

the dude from mechanics class, whose name you couldn’t actually recall if you were being honest, wasn’t a nice guy. you knew his reputation, you knew he screamed ‘red flag’ in every aspect… and you also knew baekhyun didn’t like him. but he was cute, and you two were tipsy and horny, and you never wanted anything serious anyway - the only reason why you went home with him that night was because you wanted the exact same thing he did.

you couldn’t actually pinpoint why you were so annoyed, but you guessed that it’s never nice to feel rejected, even by a douchebag like him. you didn’t care, but also didn’t not care.

sighing loudly, you got the first thing in sight and poured a little bit at one of those red cups. the liquid went down your throat like fire, making your head spin. your mouth was bitter now, but it was okay.

“hey”, you heard a very familiar voice calling you.

“oh, fuck off, i really don’t wanna talk now, baekhyun.”

you and baekhyun were friends, but also you weren’t. that silly, little taurus guy always got under your skin, with his stupid comebacks and dumb behavior. the two of you just didn’t click, no matter how hard you tried - and gosh, did you try.

he was too silly for your liking; he used to say you were too uptight. he was way too extrovert with people; it took you years to come out of your shell. he was always popular, but never smug about it; you never had many friends, and never understood why he never took advantage of that.

if it wasn’t for his father and your mom being best friends and reconnecting after meeting again at a college throwback party, you would probably never have met him. but they did, and somehow you were stuck with baekhyun forever.

“yeah? well, that’s too bad, because you have to listen.”

“no, i don’t”, you said, walking out of the kitchen - but of course he followed you.

“ugh, you’re just so stubborn! that’s why you were always grounded when we were teenagers.”

you turned around to look at him, not believing what he was saying. 

“why are you bringing this up now?!”

“because you get on my nerves!”

“poor you”, you faked a pout, walking away again.

baekhyun followed you like a puppy, even though you were determined to pretend like he didn’t exist. he stayed behind you as you talked to taeyong, pretending he wasn’t paying attention to the talk. he followed you when you decided to head back to your friends, staying up with crossed arms over his chest looking down at you, seated on the couch beside sehun and talking about something, anything. chanyeol tried talking to baekhyun two times, but he just gave the taller one a deadly gaze both times.

when baekhyun followed you up the stairs to the bathroom, and waited outside until you were done with your business, you finally sighed.

“fine, you win. say it.”

he sighed as well, but out of relief. he legs were starting to hurt, but he would never admit that.

“thank, god”, he rolled his eyes. “look, i’m sorry i ruined your little fairytale with mr. red flag or whatever, but he’s a bastard and i hope you know that.”

“i do know that.”

“great!”, baekhyun smiled. “wait, no, not great. if you knew that then why did you sleep with him?”

“i don’t owe you any explanations, baek.”

baek. he even forgot you used to call him that when you two were little.

“i guess you don’t…”, he shrugged. “well, i’m sorry then. but you can do better than him! he came over to chanyeol calling you something i don’t even want to repeat, and that just made me lose my cool because, honestly, how dare he talk about you like that?”

a little smile took over your lips, and at the back of your mind you hoped baekhyun wouldn’t notice.

“so yeah, i may have said something to him, and that may be the reason why he’s ignoring you”, he went back to venting. “but you know what i think? fuck him! he’s the one losing at the end of the day. any other person would be lucky to be with you, to sleep with you, and that son of a bitch ruined the only tiny, little chance he had with you. so fuck him!”

“what?”, you chuckled. “any other person would be what now?”

i swear, you have never seen baekhyun’s ears get so red so fast. he went silent, staring at you with wide eyes and lips pressed into a thin line.

“nothing”, he mumbled the first thing his mind came up with. “i didn’t say anything.”

“yes, you did.”

“no, i didn’t. you’re tripping”, he desperately said. “i apologized and then i didn’t say anything else.”

to hold back a laugh, you bite your lip. if baekhyun were a puppy, he would be with his tail between his legs now, trying to pass by you after doing something he shouldn't have.

“are you sure…?”

“i am! and now that we’re good, i’ll be back to the party”, his eyes got watery all of sudden. blink, baekhyun, you didn’t blink this whole time!

“okay…”

“okay!”, he almost screamed. “enjoy your night!”

baekhyun turned around and walked away the fastest he could, leaving you alone at the bathroom door with a smile on your lips.

did old little baekhyun still have a crush on you, then?

[mncxbe]

I suddenly thought of something really angsty.. imagine Aku with hanahaki disease..? He's definitely not the type who'll propose to their crush unless they know that their crush likes them back..

Yes omg. Sorry it took so long to write anon but it's finally done. Hope you like it♡♡

°☆○

Bloom for me

𝑨𝒌𝒖𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒘𝒂 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎! 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: angst♤/ happy ending cuz he's been through enough already

The wind rustled the trees in the park; the new leaves stood out tender and yellow against grey clouds. With each day that passed, autumn crept deeper into the heart of the city. Days were shorter, nights grew longer and a tinge of putrid leaves lingered in the air, mixing with the smoky smell of exhaust fumes.

As he walked down the main alley of the park, which was lined with withering cherry trees, Akutagawa couldn't help but marvel at the irony of faith: as the trees in Yokohama slowly wilted, a flower bloomed inside his lungs.

Playing it off as a mere cold, he had managed to hide his disease for the last two months but the sharp pain in his chest grew stronger by the day. Sometimes he'd wake up in the middle of the night and cough up a bunch of rosy petals, cursing under his breath and hoping that Gin wouldn't wake up and come check up on him. He would then gather the petals in the palm of his shaky hand and throw them out of the window, watching them fade away in the night.

Akutagawa managed to keep the symptoms of his illness under control, to ignore the pain; but it all got worse once he started seeing you again.

You...

He never once blamed you for his disease. The fact that a flower was blooming inside his lungs was soley his fault, the result of his deluded hopes and dreams. Of his feelings. And he was going to live and die with it.

That's what he believed until he saw you sitting on a wooden bench beneath the cherry trees; legs crossed as you slowly turned the pages of a paper bound volume; Murakami's "Norwegian wood"

For a moment he was transfixed. His cold gaze watched as the wind gently combed through your hair. You bit your lip and narrowed your eyes- probably in attempt to make sense of a sentence in the book- and his heart sank. Beautiful, you were so beautiful...

Still, the mafioso planned to walk away before you had a chance to spot him. Turning on his heels, he took a few steps back in the direction he came from before a violent coughing fit took over him. The sheer amount of pain he was in caused him to lean forward, pressing a hand to his aching chest as he panted hard.

"Akutagawa?" sounded your voice from behind and he cursed himself for being so reckless. Of course he'd feel worse around you.

"Oh God are you ok?" you asked again, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. You were close, so, so close.

Akutagawa clasped a hand over his mouth in attempt to keep the blossoms from spilling out but to no avail; a few roseate buds rolled past his parted lips and onto the leaf covered pavement.

Without wasting a second you hooked a hand under his arm and guided him to the closest bench, lightly patting his back until the coughing stopped.

The two of you spent a few minutes in silence before you finally gathered the courage to speak up.

"Are you alright?" you asked softly and he nodded.

"Yea. I am now. Thanks." he replied, barely able to contain his embrassment. How could he be so stupid? He should've walked away the moment he spotted you. Now you had discovered his shameful secret.

"Hey Akutagawa" you spoke again in the same gentle voice as you undid the lid of a thermos and handed it to him. "Have some tea. It may help."

He obeyed, taking the flask from your hands and bringing it to his lips; the liquid was warm and sweet, aiding his burning throat. The man took another sip before returning your thermos and mumbling a "Thanks Y/N."

"You're welcome"

"Well... I should go now. I need to catch my train" he said eventually as he watched you from the corner of his eyes.

"Oh sure. Want me to walk you to the station?"

He shook his head dismissively and forced a smile "No, there's no need. You can go back to your book"

"Alright then. Have a great day"

Akutagawa slowly rose from the bench, trying his best to ignore the burning sensation in his chest as he bid you farewell.

"Oh by the way..." you added, causing him to stop dead in his tracks.

"Yes?"

"Your secret is safe with me"

You spoke the last words so gently, flashing him that smile he so adored and oh, he swore his heart was going to melt. Instead he simply nodded, returning the smile before making his way to the train station.

That night he slept better than he did in ages. Sleep was deep and for the first time in ages he wasn't haunted by dreams or symptoms of his disease.

When he woke up the next morning, golden rays dappling inside his bedroom like mist, there were no more petals, no more blossoms. And he could breathe freely again.

[winchestersickness]

Sorry anon I somehow deleted your ask 😔 but here's the rec! I went through my ao3 history and picked these, I hope there's something you haven't read yet and that you will enjoy :))

Gift Horse, Mouth, etc.

Sam gets accidentally stuck with a curse that can only be lifted by acting on his deepest hidden fantasy. Dean thinks it's hilarious, and why won't Sammy just tell him what it is already? It can't be anything that weird. Right?

Please Tell Me Who I Am

A/B/O AU. As a beta, Sam shouldn’t even be attracted to his alpha brother (much less be yearning for Dean to finally take that last step into claiming him officially) but, a few compatibility issues aside, they’re happy with the pseudo-mateship they’ve got going on. At least, until a hunt-gone-wrong ends up with Sam being cursed into an omega. He and Dean race to find a way to reverse the spell before it’s too late…but now Sam’s not entirely sure if he even wants to be cured.

Convalescence

Post-Cage!Sam seen through the eyes of others.

(more under the cut)

In Loco Parentis

“Sam, are you,” Dean pauses, squeezing his eyes shut for a second because his brain just doesn’t want to catch up. “Are you jerking off and thinking about Dad?” (Sam is 15).

take the things you love

The thing is, Sam’s reinforcing every bad behavior Dean’s ever had with this kind of shit. Fucking Sam stupid over the hood of the Impala? Dean’s wet dream—unfortunately also Sam’s—but more importantly the implicit validation of every claim Dean thinks he has on Sam—unfortunately every claim Sam’s lizard brain wants Dean to have. (Sam knows his brother wants to possess him. It's a point of internal conflict.)

There's An Enochian Incantation

Dean finds a spell to create a weapon to banish leviathans. It involves an Enochian incantation. The last thing Sam's already-fragile mind needs is to hear words in the language of angels.

brother only wants

Sam breathes like it takes effort, and then he says, "Wanting you was the very first thing I realized was wrong with me. It was how I knew there was something sick inside." (One of them had to fall first. A story about devotion.)

Hands Away

When you’re horny and alone with one person in one room for a long time and you’re sixteen and all you’ve ever been taught is to love your brother more than anything, it doesn’t seem like that far of a leap to start imagining what his mouth would feel like around your dick.

Squint into the Sunset | Glare into the Gloaming

The 70k-word nonlinear coming of age story that literally no one asked for. "I know you want to give him the world, Dean, but you were never supposed to give him this."

Taking Advantage

Sam is doing everything Dean tells him to. It’s weird, and Dean wants to get to the bottom of it so he pushes Sam. Sam breaks.

I'd Gladly Lose Me To Find You

Sam takes a vow of silence in order to pull Dean out of Hell, but by the time Dean comes back, Sam's lost more of himself than just his voice. Splits off completely from canon after the season 3 finale.

One Going On Eternity And Counting

Some boundaries were never meant to be crossed ...

with hearts that are guilty, not remorseful

“I’ve wanted you since I knew what wanting was.” It’s a fact, as plain as the day. The sky is blue. Their mother was killed by a demon. They hunt monsters. Sam wants Dean. “I’ve loved you for longer, I think.” “God,” Dean’s voice is barely a whisper, raising a hand to grip his own hair by the roots and pulling. He looks absolutely wretched. “I fucked you up, didn’t I?”

When You're Not Here

The third time Sam Winchester comes to school with bruises, Mrs. Davidson decides it's time to intervene - before it's too late.

Gutless

Sticky fingers, that’s what Dean always calls him.

Bullet for my Valentine

Stupid. He is so goddamn fucking stupid. Running his mouth like a fucking idiot, not knowing when to leave well enough alone. Bad enough that he just practically talked dirty to his little brother, which, Christ – he must be more stressed than he thought if his self-control mechanisms have started malfunctioning that badly. But no, no, he came up with a scenario straight out of a bad slasher film, as if that is something normal people talk dirty about, as if that is something Sam would seriously enjoy. As if – As if Dean hadn’t hunted his own brother through the maze of the bunker, eyes black and hammer raised to strike, not even a full year ago. As if Sam hadn’t, just a few weeks back, knelt at his feet, neck bared, waiting for Dean to deal a fatal blow with a fucking scythe.

I haven't been reading spn fics for long so idk if all these are well known already, but I loved all of these (a couple of them are platonic). hope you'll like them!

[lu-lus-dicks]

Sorry, been awake for 24+ hours and ended up falling asleep 😅

Apparently my mind kept all the worm ideas on the back burner so it finished cooking as soon as I woke up, so I'm sharing.

Vox finally manages to get rid of ALL the worms and larvae, but he's careful about not letting Valentino know because there'd be hell to pay for getting rid of his spawns.

So he goes on normally for a few weeks, gets his bitten and broken cables swapped for new ones and think this will be the end of it.

Exept.

He fells empty now.

Physically empty.

This MF unknowingly developed a kink for wriggling bugs inside of him.

And he can't ask Val for more larvaes because then he'd have to tell him that he got rid of his babies.

So where did this bring him?

Right back at the radio tower.

Alastor ties him up and just leave, for hours.

Finally he comes back with an unconscious King of Hell that he ties up with more tentacles next to Vox before leaving again.

He comes back with 4 buckets full of worms, Vox is getting exited but Alastor completely ignores him in favour of talking care of Lucifer.

The broadcast starts.

Alastor straddles the king and slaps his face to wake him up, Lucifer screams and trashes around because he knows what's coming.

Alastor starts stuffing handfuls of worms after handfuls of worms in his face.

Meanwhile Vox's hard as a rock and green with jealousy.

When Al finishes feeding worms to his majesty he sew his mouth shut to stop him from spitting it out.

He turns towards Vox and is abot to step on his face-

exept that he doesn't and keeps teasing Vox by pretending that he's about to get to it but just don't.

The Tv head wriggles like the worms he wants inside of him and whine with pleading eyes, hoping Alastor will take pity on him and will just get to it.

Alastor smiles, put his heeled boot on Vox's chest and crouch (crushing his sternum).

"I'm sorry Vox, I can't possibly give you what you want if I don't know what it is!"

Vox tries to keep quiet, he really does, but he ends up saying in a whiny voice :

"Step on me! Step on me, break me and fill me with worms! Please! Pleasepleasepleaseplease-"

"And why do you want that? Between the worms I put inside of you and your boytoy laying them inside of you, you should have more than enough shouldn't you?"

Alastor's still crushing his lungs, smiling deviously and holding his mic to Vox's mouth so that his answer is loud and clear for their audience.

"I...*sigh* I had them removed"

"Uh-Oh, the Tv even got rid of his boyfriend's spawns?"

"It was painful you frigging bitch!"

"Why ask for more then?"

"*whine* Pleeeeeeaseeee...."

Alastor stands and starts walking back to the King, shivering at the idea of having more worms stuffed in as he'd been trying to not swallow them for all this time.

"I LIKE THE PAIN! I FEEL EMPTY WITHOUT THEM! FILL ME AGAIN, PLEASE!"

"Well, you did say the magic word!"

Alastor walks back to Vox and steps on his head with his heels, breaking it more and more.

He then take one of the biggest shards and uses them to make long cuts on Vox's limbs, and he finally puts the worms in them.

The tentacles restraining his highness start moving and shake him before bringing him on top of Vox.

"Open wiide~!"

Alastor smashes Lucifer's mouth against Vox's and remove the magic seams, allowing his majesty to finally throw up inside of the TV's mouth.

Both "captives" have raging hard ons and Alastor uses Vox's phone to post a picture of their messy selves on Voxtec's official Instagram.

First dislike is 0.001 seconds after posting and it's Valentino's.

(too long?)

firstly, gotta tag the hoes @nunalastor

before I even start reading this, GO TO SLEEP. if you fell asleep, GOOD, let your body fucking rest

after the read: my god was this a fucking read. you're my favorite anon from now on. this shit hit harder than I imagine any drug can. for fucks sake, I am getting SO FUCKING HARD MY GOD-

[fatuismooches]

heyyy basically

i’m feeling absolutely shit rn bc i’ve worked myself into an utter state (god i’m praying i don’t faint after my exam and nullify it) so like what better to do than to come up with a brainrot

just imagine, it’s fragile! reader and they’ve got an upcoming assessment, biggest of the semester but fuck they just can’t study. their headaches are debilitating and constant but they push through anyways because god they need to get that score. they can’t fall behind now. and dottores been watching you all day, he knows he can’t get in your way, you were practically unstoppable; it was one of the things that drew him to you in the first place. but rn? god rn seeing you like this planted a strange feeling in his cold excuse of a heart and he knew he couldn’t just leave you like this. without a word, he saunters over, and gently pries the quill from your hands, you protest but you haven’t the energy for much more really and so you let him. you let him guide you to the bed and you let him lay you down and slip in next to you. he wasn’t a man who thought much of ‘cuddles’ or whatever the hell you called it. yet he wraps his arms around you, gentle yet so firm you’d think a breeze could snatch you away. yet he cradles a hand behind your head and runs his fingers through your tresses, combing out knots, combing out stress. yet he presses you against him and lets the unspoken reassurances flow onto you through the way he pulls you under his sanctity. ‘don’t break yourself’ whispered his fingers as they traced meaningless alchemical symbols on your skin. ‘you’re perfect the way you are, you don’t need to do this’ reassured the proximity between the two of you. the only word that was vocalised between in the quiet sanctuary was your name. there it hung, palpable and present in the air. and nothing more was needed to be said

LOL SORRY THAT WAS SO LONG, can u tell i’m dying for comfort rn 😭

HOPE THAG MAKES IP FOR MY ABSENCE LMAOO

-🌕💗

🌕 ANON?? THAT FIRST SENTENCE IS VERY ALARMING PLEASE REST??? Studying and working are important but you and your wellbeing are more important 💖 Balance is key, please make sure to relax 😔 But the brain rot? *chef kiss*

If you had the energy to, you'd laugh at how poor your situation was. This... mysterious illness of yours just had to appear when finals were right around the corner. If it was just a cold or a slight fever, you could have worked through it, just as you had many times before, but this pain was unlike any you ever had endured. But anyway, surely you could get through this. It was only a few more days, and you absolutely had to do good. Especially since this professor was notorious for his long and complicated exams. Especially because you couldn't bear to think what would happen if you fell behind. What Zandik would think of you.

You could always tell when Zandik was looking at you because anyone really could feel the piercing stare he gave off. You two studied in the same room but in different spaces for maximum concentration and organization. You used to ask him questions and such but you've been far too quiet now for his liking after since you became sick. And while he does admire how perseverant you are to knowledge, he does not enjoy forcing you to go to sleep or watching you barely touch your food while studying. Even he has to acknowledge the limitations of humanity. No human can properly function like this.

The silence he used to crave becomes unsettling, and he shall tolerate it no more. You don't even notice him coming up behind you, thinking he's too focused on his own stuff, so when your pen is plucked from you rather easily you're surprised for a good few seconds. You're opening your mouth to protest but the words don't come out when you see the expression on your lover's face. Zandik gives you a look that you have only seen a few times but understands well - the one where he will have his way, he won't take no for an answer.

So when he pulls you from your desk and lays you on the bed, you can't help but mutter some grumbles as to how you were perfectly fine, and he did this kind of stuff before so why couldn't you do it, which he promptly shuts you up with a flick to the forehead and soft blankets. He doesn't verbalize it but it's because you are clearly tired and sick. You are sick with something he doesn't understand for once in his life and he cannot seem to find any kind of information or research or anything whether it was from hundreds of years ago to a few. And you are pushing yourself through it with no knowledge of the consequences, and no knowledge means no predictability. And then means there is uncertainty which he does not like when it comes to you. For once, he is unsure. Zandik does not enjoy that feeling.

When he initiates the act of cuddling you are surprised but do not question or tease him for once, as comfort was what you desired the most now. Your senses were all hazy from the onslaught of illness and studying and he was being so un-Zandik-like but you lived for moments like these. Your brain had trouble processing his movements but he was doing all the things you enjoyed, fuzziness and heat warming your body. You could make out the lines being drawn on your body, a habit he tended to do unconsciously. The rubbing of your skin in the sore places from studying nonstop. No words needed to be said. Zandik wasn't very adept with flowery words anyway, and you preferred it that way. This meant more than words could convey, and you fell asleep quickly in your beloved's arms.

Zandik looked at you, completely knocked out with not-so-subtle eyebags. Your painfully weak grasp on his shirt. You were far smarter than what a test said anyway. He himself knew that for sure. Maybe that final of yours will be postponed. Better yet, canceled. He'll see what he can do.

Whenever I'm in Sumeru I'm always reminded of how I'd NEVER EVER join the Akademiya because of how hellish it seems, so much work and years to graduate, too much thinking, way too many smart people there who would talk circles around me, uniform, studying, failing, no sleep, and then there are students like Layla barely surviving 😭 I have no talent but sign me up for theater 🙏

Anyway... I appreciate all short and long brain rots, they're so 🥰 I wish I could provide more comfort but... *hugs you* <33

[dominimoonbeam]

Hi, first I wanted to say that I really love your writing and thank you so much for sharing it.

You're amazing and so talented and you made me addicted to your writing. The way you write characters is so real and your way of writing scenerios in general makes me so Invested in the story.

Another thing, I don't know if you accept requests and if you don't feel free to ignore it:

Can I please ask for Sam comforting darlin after a long week when they basically shut down from stress? (Can you tell I'm projecting?😅)

Please don't feel pressured to do it, I know you're working on a lot of stuff now too so maybe just keep the idea for the future?

Anyway I wish you a happy rest of your week, take care of yourself and rest if you need to!

Anon! Thank you so much for all the kind words! You're not the only one needing some comfort and care lately! I think something about this season has been rough for people for a bunch of different reasons, myself included. I've got you! Or at least, I tried. Hope you like it! And I hope things turn up and go smoother for you soon!

Sam/Darlin comfort fic below the cut. Will probably reread and post it on ao3 later on.

<3

They were tired.

Dead tired. Like they wished they were dead. No, no, that was bad. They didn’t wish that. They just… It had just been such a long fucking week and it felt like everything was going wrong. Nothing big enough that they could point it out or complain. Just, off. And they hadn’t been able to sleep. And it seemed like the longer it went, the longer they hid it well enough that no one pressed for an explanation they couldn’t begin to come up with, it got heavier rather than lighter.

When they got home that night from a job, they were actually relieved Sam wasn’t back yet. The last thing they wanted to do was to drag him down with them. God, he deserved so much better than them. They tossed their keys on the side table, toed off their boots, and hung up their jacket. The side of their face throbbed. They’d gotten hit with a fucking bat. David thought their cheekbone was broken and had only finally allowed them to go home because he knew Sam would take care of it.

Darlin sat down in the big chair, their favorite chair, and told themself they’d just sit for a minute. And then they’d shower, see if their face was really that much of a mess, and if it was, maybe they’d drag their ass over to the clinic and get a healer there to fix it. They felt bad making Sam patch them up all the time, but they also hated the idea of anyone else touching them let alone mending them.

They could put an ice pack on it. Maybe the swelling would go down on its own.

They sank back in the chair and closed their eyes. Just a minute.

-

Sam was still at the Solaire house when he got a call from David.

His heart always lurched high in his chest when he got a call from David, his first thought always that frantic fear that something had happened to Darlin. Why else would David call him instead of Darlin or instead of using the group chat?

Sam stepped away from the big table of squabbling younger vampires and a very amused William.

“David?”

“Hey Sam,” David said, voice gruff but easy, instantly relieving that tension in Sam’s chest. “I just wanted to check in and see how they’re doing.”

The tension was back. “What?” Darlin had been off for almost a week, barely talking but not willing or ready to tell him why. He wasn’t sure they knew themself, not yet. But somehow he didn’t think that was what David was talking about.

The pause stretched. “Are they not home yet?”

Sam was already grabbing his jacket and waving heading for the front door. “They might be, but I ain’t. Why?”

David sighed. “Sorry. It’s not an emergency, Sam. The job got rough and they took a bat to the face… I would have taken them to a healer but they insisted—”

“Yeah,” Sam said, nodding. Of course, they would. “I’m heading home now. I’ll let ya know when they’re patched up.”

He called Darlin in the truck but they didn’t answer, which conjured a mess of panicked thoughts. What if they’d passed out behind the wheel? The thought of his Darlin in a twisted wreck was hard to push away and almost immediately replaced by other tragic imaginings.

He exhaled small relief when he saw their car in front of the house.

The front door wasn’t locked. Darlin never locked it when they were home. And there they were, asleep in the big chair. He sighed and put his keys down with theirs. Another step inside and their eyes opened. Well, one opened, the other was swollen shut.

“Damn…” Darlin winced as he closed the door. They sat up with some effort. “Sorry, I think I fell asleep… What time is—”

“Don’t you dare stand up,” he warned when they were starting to tip forward. He was already in front of them, gently catching their shoulder to ease them back. He kept his voice in a low hush, thinking their head had to be hurting inside and out. “You shoulda called me, Darlin.” He knelt beside their leg, carefully fingering hair out of their face. The bruising was new, like it had only just begun, and the swelling was bad. It looked like their cheekbone was broken. “David said you got hit with a bat?”

Darlin sighed, shoulders slumping. “I wasn’t paying attention and this guy… Yeah.”

Sam clicked his teeth to keep from snarling at the idea of ‘this guy’ whoever the hell he was. He reached toward their face but they caught his wrist and pulled it gently down to their heart instead. “I’ll be gentle,” he promised, surprised.

Darlin smiled weakly, eyes already closed again. “I know. You always are, cowboy. But I don’t…” They sighed, their smile gone. “I don’t want to cost you anything right now, you know?” Their voice had gotten small, like they were far away inside themself.

Sam kept his hand to their chest, feeling their heartbeat through his palm. He leaned against their thigh, so they’d feel him right there next to them, practically leaning into the chair with them. “You never cost me anything,” he whispered back. “Healing you is a privilege. It makes me feel like there’s something I can do for you. I love you, Darlin.”

Their face pinched, not a wince but close, and he thought if they opened those eyes, they’d be teary. His other hand stroked up the side of their thigh, squeezing them gently. “Tell me what it is,” he said gently. “Tell me what’s going on in your head.” He said it quietly, like it could be just between them.

Darlin sighed and he heard all the exhaustion and strain in that breath. “I don’t know. I just… It’s been a bad week. It’s everything. I just feel… Everything. And I’m tired and I hate myself and I can’t… I can’t take things from you when I feel like I’ve got nothing to give.”

Sam watched them the whole time they choked out that barely audible confession. They’d never told him these things, but they didn’t shock him either. They hurt, because he never wanted them to feel like that, but they didn’t shock him. “Do you trust me, Darlin?”

That good eye opened enough to look at him, surprised. “Of course. I love you.”

He stroked his thumb against their collar, above their heart. “I’m going to heal you and then we’re going to take a bath. You can talk or you can relax. We’re going to get some well needed sleep and I’m going to order your favorite food. And every step of the way, I’m going to remind you that you’re incredible and all the reasons I love you, all the reasons your pack loves you, and all the reasons my clan loves you. You get to feel however you feel, Darlin, but that voice in your heart telling you bad shit, that’s asshole is lying.”

A tear rolled off Darlin’s lashes, even though their mouth was set in a stubborn line, like they refused to acknowledge it.

He reached up slowly, so they could stop him again if they needed to argue about this more, but he also couldn’t leave their face like that. His fingertips brushed the edge of the bruising and Darlin’s eye closed as that warm magic slid through their skin, spreading out. The delicate bone in their cheek healed and the swelling went down.

They exhaled relief when they opened both eyes and blinked at him.

He could see an apology building in their eyes, trying to form on their tongue. He took their face in both hands and leaned in, touching his forehead to theirs the way he’d seen the pack do. “Trust me,” he pleaded. “I ain’t ever going to lie to you, Darlin, and we’ll get through bad weeks together.”

Darlin stayed tense for another few seconds, like they might push this comfort away, but finally they sagged. Too tired maybe?

Sam smiled when they tipped their face into his, brushing a soft kiss against his lips. He kissed back and then pulled them to their feet to lead them to the bathroom. He had to make a dash back to his jacket to send a text off to David, telling him Darlin was fine but they were taking tomorrow off.

[geo-winchester]

Poe Dameron with Solo reader and 22 and 43 from the list please!!!!

TO THE MOON AND BACK

A/N: hi lovely anon, thank you so much for you request, I missed writing about Poe so thanks for making me write about him, I hope this is what you expect and that you love it!!

———————

The night you met Poe is a night you’ll never forget, the cantina was full that day, and after you spent most of the day catching Rathtars, you tried to relax with your father and Chewie, you made your way to the bar and order your drink, it was a few minutes later when you felt someone by your side, when you look up, you saw a man, with black curls, soft eyes and with a little smile at you.

-hey- you finally said.

-Hey- he said -I’m sorry if I look like a freak.

-Don’t worry, I have it worse, at least your….

-Handsome- you laugh.

-I was going to say sorry- you couldn’t help but giggle when you noticed his blush -I’m sorry I shouldn't have been laughing.

-I’ll forgive you if you tell me your name.

-Yn…

-Nice to meet you Yn, I’m Poe- he said as he shook your hand -I know I just met you like 20 seconds ago but I feel like I met you for 20 years.

-Oh god- Han said behind him, Poe’s colors faded away when he saw who was talking -Please tell that wasn’t your punch line, because I have to tell you, that it was pathetic- he then looked at you -you’re ok, kid?

-Yes dad- you said -I’ll be there in a minute- he nodded.

-Try not to flirt with anyone else on your way, you know that Chewie doesn't like it- you rolled your eyes.

-I thought it was you who doesn’t like it when I date someone- he shrugged.

-I don’t want my little girl to get hurt, right kid- he said tooling Poe’s shoulder -If someone tries something with her, they have to come through me and my friend over there- he said pointing at Chewie, you saw the panic in Poe’s eyes.

-Dad!- you said, making him look at you -go, I’ll be there in a sec- he nodded and left -I’m so sorry about that, I’ll understand if you want to leave- he thought for a moment.

-Nah I’m not that easy to get rid off darling- he said before he got close to you -but I’ll see you later.

-Alligator- this time he starts to giggle when he notices your blush.

-I’m glad I’m not the only one who embaraces himself- he said with a wink.

The other memory that was pressed in your brain was the day the republic was destroyed. You were talking with your parents when one of the lieutenant informed you that Poe’s X-wing just landed. When Poe got out of his X-wing, he smirked as he made his way to you. 

-Were you waiting for me?- he asked you, you shrugged -You’re hurting me baby- he said. 

-Well, last time My husband went on a mission, he was missing for a week- you said, he smirked. 

-Are you talking about that husband who is handsome?- you nod -And it’s the best pilot of the resistance?

-Second best one- you said. -Your wife is the best one- you said, making him smirk. 

-Oh yeah?- he said as he got close to you, you nod with a smile -God you're lucky I love you -he said before he kissed you -have I told you how much I love you?- you shook your head -To the moon and back- you smiled.

-Oh god- your father said with an annoying gaze -You´re still having those pathetic phases. 

-Dad- you said. 

-I know i know, be nice to the idiot- he said rolling his eyes -I just came here to tell you that we have a meeting- he said before he leaves. 

-Do you think he’s going to like me someday?- you shrugged. 

-Hey you said you love me to the moon and back but you've been on the moon, sooo…

-Oh shit, no, I love you more than that- you start to giggle. 

-I’m starting to understand why my dad likes to tease you- he rolled his eyes, he was about to answer but bb-8 came to you and the two of you were  happy to see him again, a few seconds later another man came to Poe and hugged him, he keep saying about another girl and that they need to save her, Poe looks at you before you nod -Come on swift, lets go to the meeting and told them all this. 

-We’re right behind you- he said, Finn looked at him confused. 

-What just happened? Who is she?- Poe smiles. 

-Come on finn, I’ll explain it later. 

Now everything you lived with Poe seem so distance, as most of the soldiers were getting ready for the battle of Exogol, the two of you were sitting on the floor of your room, none of you knew what to say or do, you were just staring at the wall, suddenly he put an arm around you.

-You know I feel kind of bad being here as the rest of the world is stress- he said -but I could spend all my life here and I wouldn’t mind- you smile at him, he start to hum a song you immediately recognized -Can I go where you go?- he softly sang. 

-Do you really think this could work?- you asked, he  thought for a second. 

-I hope so- he said as he took your hand.

-Me too, I’ll hate to raise our kid in a war- he nodded until he realized what you said. 

-Wait, what?- he said, surprised. 

-Surprised- you said a little nervous, you could see that he was still in shock -please say something, I’m freaking out a little, I mean we’re about to go on a battle, maybe the last one and I’m scared to loose you…- he shut you up with a kiss -You’re not mad?-

-Why would I be, I mean yes I get why your freaking out but god, since I met you, I knew I want this, you and me, having our family, and growing old together, specially the last part- he hugged you -So promise me you’ll be careful out there.

-I’ll promise if you promise it too- he nods -and please come back to me. 

-Always- he said before he kissed you -stars, we’re having a baby- he said excitedly and kissed your forehead -I love you.

-To the moon and back?

-To the moon and back- he said with a smile -I also love you little moon- he whispered to your belly -by the way I’m your dad- you couldn’t help but giggle -come on darling let’s win this war.

Tag list: @writefightandflightclub @multifandomlife22 @mattmurdocksscars @phoenixhalliwell @autumnleaves1991-blog @supernovafeather @ofstarsandvibranium @santigarcia @itspdameronthings @ahookedheroespureheart @later-gators12 @22carolina08 @in-between-the-cafes

If you want me to add you to my taglist please let me know🙈

[firebugging]

MUTUAL APPRECIATION POST!!!!!

Hope everyone's year has been good so far, I've wanted to do this for a while, so here's my little ramble!!

I wanted to do as many people as possible but I am a COWARD and just went until I feel like I wrote too much, everything is utc :3

ALRIGHTTTTT, STARTING OFF WITH @eslover. I remember our first interaction the best tbh... (milgram tree, kotorb!!) you're the person that made really want to try and branch out to talk to other people within the milgramblr community (I still get a bit embarrassed though). You're super nice and I'm really grateful that we're mutuals! Truly the McMido acc ever !!

Next up, @tsuwmya! You were my first mutual here and I think you're super cool!! I really admire you, even if I don't interact with you a-lot, your ocgram is SOSO WELL DONE AND ALL THE CHARACTERS ARE SO CHEWYYY (it made me begin work on my own ocgram again actually). Your analysis posts are always such a pleasure to read and there is something about your art that makes me want to eat it like a sandwich /pos

@dearmahiru YOUUU. You're the person that made me like 0610 and MY GOD, DOOMED YURI!! They're one of my favourite ships now hehe. BUT ANYWAYS, ANOTHER PERSON WHO MAKES WONDERFULLY WRITTEN ANALYSIS POSTS, they're always such good reads and you can tell how well researched they are! In my head you're THE Mahiru mutual and I await the Kotoko final girl post!

LINA @linabirb. Uhmm... fun fact, when I initially got into Milgram, your edit blog was the first thing I really checked out in terms of fan work. I believe I was the anon that asked for heart shaped miko icons one time (I loved them btw. I ended up using them for one of my rentry pages WITH CREDIT OFC). You're really friendly and soso approachable 10/10 MUTUAL!!!

@narumimii YOU'RE LIKE A CELEBRITY 2 ME... so cool. I lovelove you edits and will probably spam like them later out of respect because photopea SUCKS and trying to understand it made me admire you for putting up with it's confusingness. Also... yurigram real I LOVE YOUR ART OK BYE

@rainbowghostcat @seariii @heynowisavedyouright and @roseofcards90 I WAS GONNA WRITE STUFF FOR YOU GUYS TOO BUT GOT EMBARRASSED AND DELETED IT I'M SO SORRY </3 BUTTT I THINK YOU'RE ALL SUPER COOL AND I AM SENDING YOU A MILGRAM CHIBI OF YOUR CHOICE...

@art-stuff-by-goose You're one of my irls and also not on milgramblr but you are my qp WIFE so I would like to thank your for putting up with me for all these years! I can be cringefail boyflop girlloser around you without worry and you also introduced SSOOSOOSO many cool games to me YOU WILL BE NUKED!! Overall you are very cool and I am gonna give you one of my silly dinosaurs :3

TO EVERYONE WHO ISN'T ON HERE!! Just know that even if we're not close, I really appreciate you! Everyone who I've interacted with here (no matter how much or how little) has really made my fandom experience so much more enjoyable, this is actually the first time I've really tried to interact with others in the community and it's been soso wonderful thus far. So thank you! I hope that you all have a wonderful 2024!! <3

Also uhmmm, I suck at interacting first so if you'd like to get closer, maybe send an ask? OK THAT'S ALL THIS WAS UHMMMMM VERY UHHHH THIS WAS A POST!!!!!!