#i fell asleep like 3 times in a row

[grass-s0fa]

good god im eepy today

[icewindandboringhorror]

... why he sit like this

[meanlesbean]

fucked up that one bad night of sleep will affect you for 3-5 business days but one good night of sleep will only linger for like 6 hours max

[bestfluteninja]

anxiety moment? mayhaps?

[eleventeenratsinaflannelsuit]

help my internal clock keeps setting itself for 5:30 on the weekend

i dont even need to do anything until like 12:00-15:00ish

wtf

[onlyswan]

summary: in which jungkook can sleep without you, but he’d rather not to.

> fluff, suggestive, they’re so in love it hurts typa angst / wc: 2.4k

> warnings: jungkook is hard and tipsy and sleepy and needy for love and oc is ready to risk it all, making out, grinding, allusion to s/x

note: just a lil sumsum to indulge in the painful blues and sappiness i’ve been having lately <3 you can blame this one to my hormones <3 reblogs and feedbacks are always appreciated :]

—

you almost trip on your own feet, sputtering out a string of whispered, panicked curses as you stumble inside the dark apartment. jungkook’s beloved galaxy projector lamp illuminates the space you also call your own, and although you adore it as much as him, you wish he didn’t turn off the light by the door in favor of it.

“oh, jungkook.” you murmur softly, dropping your bag as a careless heap on the floor as you kneel beside his vessel in slumber on the couch. he fell asleep on his stomach, side of his face smushed against the outstretched arm he’s using as a pillow. you pry off the remote control from the confines of his left hand, turning off the television before setting it down on the center table.

the distinct scent of fabric softener permeates the air— unmistakably kindled by your boyfriend’s affinity for scented candles. the soothing crackles of the candle wick burning on the side table contests with jungkook’s snoring, and you can’t say this is the first time you’re listening to this unique harmony.

you tenderly caress his hair, moving down to his beautiful face, and the pad of your thumb brushes over the apple of his cheek. and as your watery eyes take its sweet time adoring his godly allure, you decide to worry about how you would bring him to bed later. he just looks so peaceful like this, and you do not have the heart to wake him up.

you plant a loving kiss on his forehead before you stand on your feet, picking up the bag you left on the floor, and you jolt in surprise when a hand seizes your wrist.

jungkook utters your name, hushed and slurred that you almost don’t recognize the word.

“is it you? you’re home?” he croaks out, blinking his eyes to adjust from pitch black to his current surroundings. “what time is it?”

“four in the morning,” you sit down beside his stomach, whispering to him quietly as if there was anybody else in the room you could possibly wake up. “i didn’t drink. at all. not even a drop. i lost in rock-paper-scissors and ended up being the designated driver. for the second time in a row! i’m cursed!”

he slowly stretches out his lethargic limbs as he shifts to lie down on his side, chuckling at the sound of your grouchy tone as you laid out the story before he could even ask how your night out went.

“my poor baby- would’ve helped you but i needed to be taken care of, too.”

“made it home safe, so it’s fine.” you smile as you give his cheek little pats, and he catches your hand in his to press kisses to your knuckles. “go back to sleep. i still need to go wash up.”

“my goodnight kiss.” he puckers up his lips in a doll-like pout, urgently demanding for affection before you can leave.

you lean down to grant his request, and he guides your face in his warm hands to connect his pillowy lips with yours. you instinctively hold on to his forearms so you won’t collapse on top of him, heart skipping multiple beats as you find yourself lost in the feeling of your lover relishing in the intimacy of having no distance between you. a second feels like a minute, a minute- an hour.

the kiss breaks, but he still keeps you close so that his nose lightly brushes against yours. “jelly? you smell like jelly… i like it.”

“now, you do, too.” you’re the one to completely pull away, wiping away the boysenberry gloss smeared on his silken lips using your thumb. its saccharine scent replaces the hint of beer that lingered around him. “go to bed, my love.”

“nuh-uh. i’m already too comfy here.” he protests weakly, curling up into fetal position and burying his face into the cushion of the couch.

“okay, okay. suit yourself.” you roll your eyes, grabbing the edge of the blanket pooled below his feet and draping it over him until it reaches his shoulder. his heart flutters at the thoughtful gesture, but when he turns his head to look at you, preparing to persuade you into sleeping with him there, you’re already out of sight.

—

your melodic humming of ‘my funny valentine’ echoes in the bathroom, unable to shake it off after singing the song with your friends in the karaoke room. you waltz around as you return the products you used in the cabinet next to the mirror, and then you wipe the floor dry from the drops of water that fell when you stepped out of the shower booth.

when you deem yourself satisfied with the cleanliness of the bathroom post your bedtime routine, you conclude that it’s finally time to allow yourself much-needed rest. you were all over the place for the past twenty-four hours, and the promise of drifting off into unconsciousness with jungkook sounds like paradise.

you swing the door open and-

“oh my god!”

…your knees nearly give out, heart jumping out of your skin when you’re met by a ball of figure on the floor, enshrouded by your own dark shadow. but the bathroom light manages to shine over the little yellow star patterns on the navy blue blanket wrapped around the mystery person, and you just know.

you clutch at your aching chest with a sigh of relief, still breathless as you sputter out. “what are you doing here? i thought the sofa was comfy?”

jungkook lazily lifts up his head, most of his hair falling on his face but he couldn’t care any less because if you give him one poke he would definitely be sent straight to the dreamland among the clouds. his round doe eyes have turned into slits as he squints up at you, his lips forming a permanent pout.

“i was, but i don’t want to fall asleep without you again.” he scoffs out the complaint as he attempts to rub off the sleep from his eyes. “i need your love, please.”

you don’t think jungkook realizes— just how courageous it is to build camp infront of a door asking to be given love, holding his pounding heart in the palm of his hands, and trusting that you will accept it in yours to handle it with the gentlest of care.

he has come a long way from when he would bend himself backwords to make you happy and comfortable despite your constant reassurance. he wanted to retain your attention, to occupy your thoughts, to make a bigger space for him in your heart. he was afraid of appearing weak, too needy, not worth the trouble. and no matter what it took, he wanted you to never run out of reasons to stay. however, for the jungkook of today, control is an abandoned form of self-destruction and he can tell you in confidence that ‘here i am in all my glory. there are unfixable, fractured parts of me and i am laying them out on the floor for you to see- you can take me or leave me, but i know you’ll always choose the former’ and ‘i am stubborn and i do not give up’ and ‘i want to buy a house in the countryside with you’ and most of all ‘i need your love.’

often times you hear the question ‘how you can make a relationship last?’ being asked. beyond love, patience, and respect— you think… what makes a true love ‘true’ is faith. and out of all these feelings and capacities, to be honest, it might just be the most difficult one to surrender to another soul.

“babe, literally, you were already asleep down there.” you put a hand over your hip, giggling in amusement.

“no, i wasn’t!” he strongly denies. he reaches out to his side to show you the glass of scented candle you failed to notice until now. the melted wax sloshes around like waves crawling to and from the shore. “i was watching the candle to keep myself awake. like this-”

he demonstrates the earlier scenario with a small smile of mischief tugging at the corner of his lips. like an enamored moth, he draws closer to the candle that casts a subtle orange glow on his skin. the flickering flame forms a burning star in each of his wide eyes as it frantically dances to its own beat: making itself smaller, stretching taller, and swaying back and forth.

time stands still. he looks absolutely breathtaking, too good to be true, like an angel that only appears in dreams. you’re almost sure that this life is a hoax and he’s come to take you away. the crackling of the candle gradually lulls you to sleep, and when you wake up, he will be a distant memory.

but then he playfully grins at you and he crosses his legs to switch positions— the weight of his calf almost crushing your toes reminds you that he’s tangible. you chuckle, heart swelling in ten sizes because you can never imagine yourself getting sick of his simultaneously endearing and humorous antics.

“okay, babe. sorry for making you wait.” you coo, fingers carding through his messy hair to gather it on the back of his head and form a ponytail in your fist, a little paranoid that a strand would dip in the candle and burn. still, his bangs escape and cascade down like waterfalls. “let’s go to bed and you can have all the love you need.”

“about damn time.” he enunciates the curse word, instantly springing on his feet, and the sudden movements blows out the treasured candle he’s been carrying around. his expression drops. “oh shit- it fainted-”

“it just fell asleep, don’t worry.” you support his silly joke. “wait- i forgot to close the door of the shower.” you huff in annoyance, catching a glimpse of it when you peeked in to flip off the lightswitch.

jungkook, on the other hand, sneakily speedruns to return the blanket on the couch and the candle beside its many other siblings. they have turned into an organized mess of a collection on the small corner of the living room, along with three of those long stick of lighters and assorted remote controls of your appliances.

the second after you shut the door behind you, your boyfriend is already enveloping you in a bone-crushing hug. you giggle as you wrap your arms around his neck to drown yourself in the comfort of his embrace, and before you know it, the fuzzy slippers spill from your feet as his strong arms sweep them off the floor. your legs automatically encircle his waist as he walks to your dimly-lit bedroom.

“i swear i’m stealing you from your friends for the rest of the week.” he says in a raspy voice before pressing a kiss to your temple. “have i told you that i missed you?”

“hmmm-” you tilt up your chin to look at his face, scrunching your nose as you pretend to be in deep thought. “not yet. i don’t think so.”

“i missed you.”

“then i’ll meet you in your dreams.” you smile sweetly, poking his supple cheek as he kneels on the bed and gently lies you down on the mattress. he settles down beside you, using your arm as a pillow. a squeak escapes your mouth when he squeezes you closer to his body, breathing out a sigh of sheer contentment because he is cuddling with you at last.

“goodnight, baby. i’ll dream of you.”

listen, you know, you’re drained. your ankles are soulless ghosts and your eyes are drooping heavily. but you can feel his hard-on poking your bare thigh, only separated by his sweatpants, and you can’t fucking brush it off because it’s also waking up something very carnal in you. you harshly chew on your bottom lip before you muster up a voice.

“want me to take care of you, baby boy?”

jungkook’s eyelids flutter open, and he raises an eyebrow sternly at your offer. “you’re tired. and you need to wake up in a few hours for work.”

“you’re more important to me than work.” you throw caution to the wind, tucking his hair behind his ear to pepper featherlight kisses all over his face. “besides, i did say that i’ll give you all the love you need, didn’t i?”

the tenderness of your ministrations makes him fold, swallowing thickly as he mutters. “oh, fuck it.”

you gasp as he easily manhandles your body on top him, capturing your lips for a searing kiss as he grinds his hips against yours in a slow, coaxing rhythm. you shudder under his touch— his desperate hands slip under your shirt to caress your waist, tracing your curves as if he’s mapping out your figure, and your fingers tightly curl around the fabric of his sleeves to cling to your remaining shred of strength and sanity.

“i love you- hmmph-”

he doesn’t allow you to finish your sentence. with a filthy moan, he swallows your words to satiate his thirst, sliding his tongue in your mouth to taste more of peppermint and honey and bliss. he smiles into the kiss when you vibrate with a sulky whine, pushing you far enough to see your face. he plants an apologetic peck on your lips, pulling up your t-shirt to reveal the expanse of your skin to the cold air, but he quickly remedies it as he strokes your lower back with his smooth palm.

“i love you more.”

his lips part, a glossy dark shade of pink, and his bunny teeth tug at the silver ring adorning the corner of his mouth as he gloss over your facial features. the sun is about to rise in the east, and it is another day of existing in this beautiful and wretched world with you.

“i’m so fucking lucky to have you, you know that?”

you break free from his hold to properly straddle his small waist, and it’s almost embarrassing how he’s too eager, putting his tattooed arm beneath his head to get a better view of bewitching temptation in its finest. his free hand, shaky with desire and anticipation, finds your bare thighs to caress.

“i know.” your cocky grin turns him on even more, testing the blurry limits of his compromised self-control. his lovedrunk eyes drink you in as you begin stripping off your black t-shirt, which he then recognizes to be his. “but remind me again after i rock your world, will you?”

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask / dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!Reader Series

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20

Summary: June brings the end of Harris's preschool career and the official beginning of your new life as a family of three--with a little help from your friends, of course.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), oral (f! receiving), p in v, mentions of phone sex, grief and loss

WC: 7.8k

Chapter 20/20

A/N: With the official end of Trapped Under Ice, I am now opening up requests in the TUI universe. Thank you all for taking this journey with me as I processed my own grief. As long as you keep requesting, I will continue writing for our little family 💚

Thank you to @rip-quizilla for making that scene stronger. Ily, bb.

Divider credit to @saradika

The diner is bustling with customers, happily chatting over stacks of pancakes and overstuffed omelets. Coffee carafes clink against chipped mugs as the waitstaff pours refill after refill. 

You weave through the rows of tables, careful not to bump into servers balancing trays of food or busboys carrying the used dishes and silverware. A small yellow gift bag is clutched in your hand, and you hold it to your chest to protect its fragile contents. 

Harris spots you before you can see him; his little arm shoots up from where he’s tucked into the booth next to Wayne. 

“Ms. Sweetheart!” he frantically waves, his grin wide enough to stretch off of his cheeks. “Over here!”

You laugh, watching as Eddie scoots from the middle of the seat to the end, making room for you to sit down. There are two steaming cups on his side of the table, centered on little saucers that are likely older than you are. 

“Morning, baby,” he greets you with a smile, leaning in to give you a small kiss—no tongue, of course—as you slide in next to him. “You sleep okay last night?”

You nod sheepishly, remembering the phone conversation the two of you had had, well after Harris fell asleep. Eddie’s sultry voice had guided you through touching yourself; the next-best thing to having his own fingers inside you. 

“Wish I could be there right now,” he’d murmured into the receiver, so low that you could barely hear him. The faint sound of his own fly being lowered punctuated his words. “Wanna make you feel so good, Sweetheart, but I know you’re being a good girl f’me tonight, aren’t you?”

You bring the coffee mug to your lips, hoping to blame the heat creeping up your face on the drink, and take a hearty sip. It’s a little sweet, but mostly bitter. Just how you like it. 

The crinkling tissue paper as you lean back in the booth draws your attention to your company and away from your indulgent memories. “Happy Father’s Day, Eddie,” you kiss him on the cheek, your lipstick tinting his stubble pink. “This is from me and Harris. Be careful with it.” There’s a deliberate vagueness in your warning, not wanting to spoil the surprise. 

Eddie cocks his brow, clearly not expecting any sort of present from you. Shocking, considering you’d taken Harris to the Paint-n-Play on Wednesday during your usual tutoring session time, and you’d figured he would have spilled the beans as soon as he and his dad had a moment alone. He rustles around the bag with dramatic flourish, trying to build anticipation but only succeeding in testing Harris’s patience.

“Open it, Daddy! Open it!” Harris bounces up and down in his seat, mouth sticky and teeth tinted purple with grape juice as he urges Eddie to stop dragging out the process. Wayne discreetly places his palm behind his grandson’s scalp, protecting his head in case he rocks too far back. “Me an’ Ms. Sweetheart did it together!”

“You did, huh?” Eddie chuckles, pulling out a ceramic mug. It’s painted sky blue, and Harris had insisted on making purple polka dots, splotchy as he’d haphazardly dunked the brush in paint and pressed it to the plaster. Written in bright orange blocky letters is DAD; you’d helped him sound out duhh-ahhh-duhh, his little tongue poking out in complete concentration. Your only visible contribution is the tiny green 1997 painted along the handle, marking the first year you’d celebrated Father’s Day together.

The multitude of complementary colors and mismatched designs should clash. The dots look more like disfigured spiders than circles. The 7 you’d carefully written with a fine-tipped brush is slightly smudged from where Harris had picked up the mug before it had fully dried, and there’s an extra curving line extending from the first D in DAD after he’d started writing the letter backwards.

To Eddie, it’s perfect.

“I love it.” Brown eyes find his son’s hopeful gaze that eagerly awaits his father’s reaction. “This is the best present I’ve ever gotten.” He places the mug on the table next to the coffee-filled one in front of him, tipping its contents into his gift. A few drops dribble down the side, but most of it ends up where it should. A success, in his opinion. He takes a hearty gulp, not caring that the hot liquid singes his taste buds. “Is this magic?” He holds the mug up to his face, studying it like it’s a precious stone. “Because, I swear, it makes this coffee taste better.”

The little boy beams, exchanging an elated glance with you. “Ms. Sweetheart, did you put magic in it?”

Eddie chimes in before you can respond. “I bet she did. She’s sneaky with it; always sprinkling it where you least expect.” His empty hand finds your thigh underneath the table, silently claiming it as his own. “I don’t know how she does it,” he muses wistfully, adding another sugar packet to the mug and swirling it with a spoon until it’s dissolved. Like it was always part of the coffee from the jump. 

��Speaking of presents,” Wayne chimes in, unearthing a tiny, newspaper-wrapped package from his jacket pocket and handing it to his nephew. “‘S, not much, but it’s a Father’s-Day-slash-housewarming gift for ya.” 

“I thought we agreed on no gifts,” Eddie shakes his head, suddenly self-conscious about arriving empty-handed. 

“Well, I lied.”

Wayne watches as Eddie tears into the paper. Whatever home run or double-header had made the front page of the sports section is irrelevant compared to the mystery item that is snugly tucked between baseball stats and the upcoming game schedule. 

A small gasp leaves his mouth as he unwraps a wallet-sized picture frame; the word family is etched into the wood right above the plastic-protected photo. 

It’s from Harris’s bowling party; the one Wayne had taken of you and Eddie on either side of the birthday boy. Happiness radiates off of the three of you with such intensity that it seems impossible for it to be captured in a still frame. He’d forgotten that Wayne had even snapped it.

“Wayne, I…” Eddie struggles to find the words he needs to properly convey his feelings. The tip of his nose burns with the anticipated influx of emotions. “I’m gonna put it right next to my alarm clock, so it’s the first thing I see every morning.” 

You lay your head on his shoulder, the edge of his lips finding your forehead in a half-kiss. He soaks in the comfort you bring, absorbing it through every pore as he exhales and feels himself relax.

The waitress comes over with a notepad and a smile. “You folks ready to order?” She clicks her pen, poised to jot down what the four of you want to eat.

“Chicken fingers, please!” Harris announces, perching up on his knees and leaning his elbows on the table. “With French fries!”

The waitress, whose name tag reads Bee, offers a sympathetic smile and a soft click of her tongue. “I’m sorry, buddy. We don’t start serving lunch until 11:30.”

The boy’s lower lip quivers at the news, having his heart set on eating his favorite food. You can see his perfectly curated routine begin to crumble, taking his excitement with it. “But…but I even said ‘please!’” he insists, voice cracking. 

You step in quickly, wanting to salvage the Father’s Day celebration before Hurricane Harris can brew up a storm. “Hey, Har, I know you’re disappointed about the chicken fingers, but I have a super special idea.”

“Wh-What?” Misty eyes indicate that tears still threaten to spill over his lashes. 

“When Grandma used to take me to the diner, we used to split silver dollars. They’re pancakes, just smaller.” You take a deep breath and smile, hoping and praying that your plan works. “Would you like to share some silver dollars with me? And we can come back and get chicken fingers another time.”

Harris considers your proposition, rubbing his hands together along his knuckles to soothe himself. Finally, he says, “Can we eat them with syrup?”

“That sounds delicious.” You lean over and ruffle his hair, careful not to let any loose strands land on the table. “You wanna tell the waitress?”

“Mmkay,” he nods, turning to Bee and smiling. “Me an’ Ms. Sweetheart are gonna have the, um, little pancakes.” He frowns, unable to remember the dish’s name. “The dollars?”

Bee laughs and nods, jotting it on her notepad. “An order of silver dollar pancakes, coming right up. And for you gentlemen?” She brings her attention to Eddie and Wayne. 

The older man clears his throat, ordering a Western omelet with home fries and rye toast. Eddie asks for the same but with white bread. “And a refill on the coffee,” he adds. 

Bee promises to be back shortly with the food, and the four of you resume your conversation. 

“We’ll get to take a new picture next week at someone’s graduation,” you say with a smile, looking in Harris’s direction. “Are you excited, Har Bear?”

Harris takes another messy sip of grape juice. “Uh-huh. I’m gonna go to kindergarten soon! But first is summer.” 

“Summer first, then kindergarten,” you agree, sipping your coffee before it gets cold. You’re no stranger to it, often setting down your to-go cup at work and forgetting about it until well after morning circle time, but you relish any chance you get to enjoy it while it’s still warm. “I was thinking: once you and Daddy are all moved in, we should make plans for this summer. Like the zoo, or the pool…”

“Yeah!” Harris claps his hands together and grins. “Or Disney World!”

Eddie’s ears perk up at his son’s suggestion. “Not this year, but maybe soon.” If he can continue moving up the ranks at the record store, coupled with the two of you splitting rent, it might even happen next year, but he doesn’t want to make a promise he can’t guarantee he’ll keep. “And we’ll drag Grampa Wayne with us.”

Wayne responds with a shake of his head. “You’re outta your mind if you think I’m goin’ on any of those roller coasters.”

“You’re gonna sit and ride It’s a Small World the whole day?” Eddie teases, leaning back in his seat. 

“Damn straight.”

The food comes out ten minutes later, steaming plates carefully placed on the table. You cut the silver dollar pancakes into bite-size pieces, pushing half to the side nearest Harris and the other half closest to you. A glass syrup carafe waits to be used, its handle sticky with residue. 

“Say when,” you tell Harris, drizzling it back and forth across the plate. He waits until the pancakes are drenched before stopping you.

You watch as he uses his fork to spear some pancake, pops it in his mouth, and chews thoughtfully. “It’s yummy!” he declares triumphantly, already scanning the plate for his next piece. “This is my favorite food ever!”

You, Eddie, and Wayne share smiles; none of you take his declaration too seriously, knowing he changes his favorite anythings on an hourly basis. Still, a win is a win, and avoiding a chicken finger-induced tantrum is no small feat. 

Eddie spreads a pat of butter over his toast, but his eyes never shift from you and Harris sharing breakfast. You’d asked him whether he prefers blueberries or chocolate chips in his pancakes, and the discussion quickly devolved into a competition to see who could come up with the grossest pancake addition. 

“How about…” Harris wiggles his nose, “broccoli pancakes?”

“Ew!” You stick out your tongue in disgust. “That was a good one, but I think I can top it. Would you eat…” you tap your chin in contemplation, “fish stick pancakes!”

Harris squeals, far from an inside voice, but no one wants to correct him. “That’s super yucky! Fish stick pancakes?!”

Eddie smiles, tucking into his own food. He wants to savor the joy, the warmth. The twinkle in Wayne’s eyes, the upturned corners of Harris’s lips, the trill of your laugh. He wishes he could capture the feeling, but a mental image will have to do. 

He inhales and allows himself to be wrapped in the unconditional love he had once convinced himself he didn’t want nor deserve. 

The Hawkins Preschool cafeteria has once again been transformed. The custodians folded the long tables, propping them against the wall, and set up rows of folding chairs, leaving a small aisle for the graduates’ families to find their seats. 

Other parents stare as Eddie walks in, perspiration prickling under his arms as he hears them whispering about the kid who ran away. It’s audible enough for Wayne to hear; he rests his hand on his nephew’s shoulder and gives it a small squeeze before they take their seats. 

Jeff and Dustin arrive a few moments later, noticing Eddie and Wayne in the small crowd and shuffling over. Eddie pulls them each in for a quick hug, and Wayne does the same.

“Glad we made it,” Dustin says with a sigh of relief. “My flight got delayed half an hour, but we made up the time in the air.”

Jeff rolls his eyes. “It didn’t help that we had to stop at a payphone so you could call your precious Suzie-Poo,” he huffs, but there’s a glimmer of a smile on his lips, proud of the way his friend cares so deeply for his partner. “Anyway, we’re here now.” He takes a seat next to Wayne, shifting so he can speak to Eddie. “Is Harris excited to graduate?”

“Oh, yeah,” Eddie laughs, shaking his head at the recent memory of his son prancing around the apartment that morning in his cap and gown, small body drowning in the flowing green fabric. In that instant, Eddie could picture him as a young man, crossing a much larger stage to receive his diploma from Hawkins High. If Higgins is still the principal, Eddie might have to teach Harris the family tradition of flipping him off. 

Sue Sinclair makes her way up the small staircase to the podium, adjusting the microphone so she speaks into it easily. “Good morning, parents, siblings, and other special guests. Welcome to Hawkins Preschool’s Moving Up ceremony.” She beams, holding for applause. Eddie eases back into his seat; he’s known Principal Sinclair for years, since Lucas had joined Hellfire, and she’d recently stepped up to take over teaching Harris’s class for the remaining weeks of the school year. After the little boy had given his statement to the police, Marion and Paula’s teaching licenses had been immediately terminated, and negligence charges were currently pending.

“Before we get started, I’d just like to make an announcement.” Sue Sinclair looks over to where your class is standing, patiently waiting their turn to receive their sticker-laden diplomas. “I am pleased to announce that our very own Mr. Will Byers,” she extends her hand in Will’s direction, “will be our newest head teacher starting this fall.”

Though everyone in attendance is clapping, it’s obvious that Eddie, Wayne, Jeff, and Dustin cheer the loudest. Will blushes red, unused to being the center of attention, but the smile on his face shows how excited he is to take on this new role. You wrap your arms around his shoulders from behind and pull him in for a proud hug.

“Our students have worked incredibly hard this year, learning their letters, numbers, and how to be a good friend,” the principal continues. “And though we will miss them dearly, we are thrilled to send them off to kindergarten with these new skills. So, without further ado, let’s bring out our graduates!”

The ceremony begins, starting with your class. You stand at one end of the stage, sending each student off to where Will is waiting at the other end as Principal Sinclair reads out each of their names. They take their certificates and pose with baby teeth on full display while their parents snap photos from disposable Kodaks and bulky Nikons. All the seemingly endless days, the menial fights over sharing toys; every moment was worth it if it led to this.

You usher the kids to their seats in the front row after your final student’s name is called, spotting Eddie in the crowd as you sit down. He winks, the corner of his eye mischievously crinkling. You smile, taking full advantage of the other parents’ distractedness and give him a little wave; the exchange a private love letter.

Both of you bring your attention back to the stage when Sue Sinclair calls up the next class. Harris stands towards the center of the line, excitement buzzing through him at a rate that cannot be contained. He rocks from the balls of his feet to his heels, back and forth as he awaits his turn. His brown ringlets poke out from underneath his cap, grazing just above his eyebrows. 

Principal Sinclair pauses, looking directly at Eddie when she speaks. She understands the gravity of this accomplishment, her lipsticked smile reaching her eyes as she leans in towards the microphone.

“Harris Munson!”

Eddie jumps up, hollering as loud as his vocal cords will allow. Harris accepts his diploma and smiles wide, both at his accomplishment and at the sound of his dad cheering him on. His expression further brightens when he sees Wayne, Dustin, and Jeff beside him, and he waves while jumping up and down.

He’s supposed to walk from stage left to stage right, just as all the students before him have done; in typical Harris fashion, he takes the road less traveled. With a mighty leap, he catapults himself off of the stage and makes a beeline straight for you.

Two little arms wrap themselves around you, squeezing you as tight as they can. The brim of his cap is flush against your cheek. “I did it, Ms. Sweetheart!” His words carry a lightheartedness that only a child’s joy can bring. “Did you see?” He picks his head up from where it was nestled against you and giggles, dimpled chin brushing your bicep.

You tilt the mortarboard slightly upward and press a kiss to his forehead. “I saw, Har,” you tell him, using your thumb to wipe away your lipstick print, “and I am so, so proud of you.” Readjusting his cap, you usher him over to where the rest of his class is standing, a garden of happiness blooming within you. 

You look back at where Eddie is sitting, wishing you could sit next to him, fingers laced together while his thumb caresses the side of your hand and grasping your hand tighter when Harris’s name is called. For now, it’s enough to know that you’ll be by his side throughout all of Harris’s future endeavors and accomplishments. A team. 

Eddie’s palms press into his slack-covered thighs as he peers over at you and grins. Bright, adoring eyes meet yours, speaking every thought that his mouth can’t say right now. I love you. Thank you. We couldn’t have done this without you.

You accept the wordless praise with a smile, one that reaches beyond its usual confines. 

Dustin notices the small exchange, and he nudges Eddie’s ribs with his elbow. “She’s the one, huh?” He cocks his eyebrow knowingly. 

“Oh, yeah,” Eddie murmurs, no longer paying any attention to the remaining names being read aloud. “You ever think you’d see the day I settle down?” His tone is teasing, but there’s an ounce of insecurity behind them. 

To Eddie’s surprise, Dustin nods without hesitation. “Always knew you would.” Carol Perkins shushes him from the row ahead, but he just flips her off and rolls his eyes. 

“Don’t you remember that time in high school when we got sloshed—sorry, Wayne,” Jeff cuts in sheepishly, “and you went on a rant about how you secretly wanted the whole wife, kids, picket fence deal?”

“And I believe I threatened to kick your ass if you told anyone,” Eddie points out, embarrassment turning his face red, apparent even under the light stubble covering his cheeks. 

Wayne chuckles softly. “I already knew. About the dream and the booze.” He laughs a bit harder at Jeff and Eddie’s shocked expressions. “If you keep replacing vodka with water, eventually, it’s all just water.”

“Ya don’t say.” Dustin’s sarcasm bleeds through his whisper. 

Principal Sinclair reads the last student’s name with the same enthusiasm she’s given all of the other kids. “I now present to you, the Hawkins Preschool class of 1997!” She mimes tossing a cap in the air, the students’ cue to do the same. 

The fervor of the cheers and applause could shake the cafeteria. Whistles pierce the air and reverberate off of the walls, none louder than Wayne Munson’s. You stand up, smoothing the pleats of your dress to soak in the achievement of completing another academic year; for you, this one in a brand new school with more challenges than you’d cared to endure. 

You and Will take in the sight of nine cherubic faces looking up at you in admiration, though they’re beginning to shed their baby fat. This was certainly a journey, and you couldn’t have asked for a better teaching assistant to walk beside you through it all. 

“I’m gonna miss you next year,” you say, squeezing him in a tight hug. 

“I’ll be right down the hall!”

Begrudgingly, you let go of him, not losing the pout on your lips. “That’s way too far for me.” The two of you both know that you’re serious; it won’t be the same without having him in the classroom with you. “Can we try to match up our breaks and eat lunch together?”

“It’s a date,” Will laughs, then juts out his chin to motion behind you, “but it looks like I might have some competition.”

Before you can turn around, Eddie’s arms wrap around your waist. He tugs you in close so your back is flush against his chest, the buttons from his shirt pressing into your spine. “There’s my girl,” he murmurs in your ear, lips so close that they brush the lobe. “Are you ready to start your summer?”

You kiss his cheek, adjusting your stance so you can walk hand in hand to get Harris. He torpedoes himself into Eddie’s stomach, shrieking with laughter as he’s lifted into the air. 

“Har Bear, you’re a preschool graduate!” Eddie smacks a kiss to his son’s temple. “How should we celebrate, hmm? Ice cream? Chuck E. Cheese?”

“Ice cream!” Harris decides easily. “I’m gonna get cotton candy with rainbow sprinkles and—Uncle Dusty!” He squirms out of Eddie’s grasp and races over to Dustin. 

“What? I’m not an ice cream topping!” Dustin teases, crouching down to ruffle Harris’s curls, matted to his scalp from being hidden underneath the cap. 

Harris giggles. “You’re so silly!” He glances back and forth from him to you, and you realize he doesn’t know that you’d met in March at Will’s birthday party. “Uncle Dusty, this is Ms. Sweetheart. She’s my almost-mommy.”

“Ohh,” Dustin replies with a smirk, raising his eyebrows and nodding. “I think she needs to be your dad’s almost-wife first–”

“All right! Ice cream time!” Eddie hurries to cut him off, glaring at Dustin for bringing the idea to Harris’s attention again; he has constantly been hounding him about marriage ever since he found out about his newest living arrangements. The idea of marrying you, however, eases his tension and has a smile tugging on his lips; a slight switch in expression that his uncle spots easily.

Wayne’s gruff whisper is in Eddie’s ear. “Sounds like it’s time for an almost-proposal.”

“Shut up!”

“I think that’s the last of them!” Jeff calls out, lugging the final cardboard box from his car into your apartment. He wipes his hands on his jeans and closes the door behind him, careful not to wake up his sleeping daughter in Viv’s arms. He looks over at where you, Robin, and Jess have begun unpacking, laying Eddie’s clothes in one pile and Harris’s much smaller clothes in another.

Jeff places a kiss on the crown of Viv’s head, then plants an identical one on Ettie’s. “Where are the guys?” 

“Harris’s room,” you say; bittersweet taste tinging the new label. It feels better than Grandma’s old room, but part of it will always belong to her. You hear Harris giggle as Eddie and Dustin re-assemble his racecar bed, spreading warmth that gently softens the sadness until it resembles sentimentality. “I’ll come with you; I have to put this away, anyway.” You grab the pile of Harris’s clothes and tuck it under your arm.

Eddie and Dustin sit on the floor, rogue screws spread around them as they intently study their project.

“I think this piece,” Dustin muses, picking up one of the sides of the frame, “connects with this one like that…”

Eddie shakes his head. “Nah, it’s the other way around.” He takes the screwdriver and twists the metal into the slot triumphantly. Your breath catches in your throat as his bicep flexes with the motion, perfectly displayed where his t-shirt sleeve had been cut into a makeshift tank top. “There we go.” He looks up and realizes you’re there, perfectly still as you watch him. “Hey, Sweetheart. Y’good?” There’s a mischievous twinkle in his eye; though it was inadvertent, he knows what he’s doing to you.

You only nod, the movement dragging you out of your momentary stupor. He chuckles as you place Harris’s shirts and pants in the dresser, fingers clumsily slipping over the knobs. It’s the same unicorn-covered dresser that had sent Harris into hysterics a few weeks ago, but you’d painted over it before he could see. It’s now a dark navy blue, no evidence of what once lay beneath.

Eddie’s amused by your reaction and subsequent embarrassment, running his tongue over his teeth and chuckling to himself, but his victory is short-lived.

“Hey, Casanova,” Dustin’s exasperated voice cuts in, pointing to the section Eddie just assembled, “you put the piece on upside down.”

Harris crinkles his nose. “What’s Casanova?”

Eddie buries his head in his hands as Dustin scrambles to explain. “It means your dad is trying to show off his handyman skills for your almost-mommy.” He winks in Eddie’s direction before leaning in and exaggeratedly whispering in Harris’s ear, “but he’s not doing a very good job.”

As soon as Harris distracts himself with setting up his toys, Eddie is saluting his friend with a quick flip of his middle finger.

You crouch down, brushing a lock of hair behind his ear. “Don’t worry; I’m very impressed.” He blushes when you kiss his cheek. “Your uncle’s going to be here with dinner in a few minutes, if you burly men want to wash up.”

Eddie nods, turning to his friends and his son and speaking in a deep baritone. “You heard the woman! Let us refuel so we may regain our strength for hunting and other masculine activities.”

Harris’s brows pinch together in further confusion while you and Dustin share an eyeroll, but the three of you follow your fearless leader out of the room. Eddie lets the two of them pass and waits for you, sliding a coy hand in your back pocket and murmuring against your hair. “Man and woman make fire in bedroom later?” He continues using the deepened voice.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“That’s…that’s not a no, though, right?”

The summer sun is still high in the sky when Wayne arrives at the apartment, three pizza boxes still warm in his palms. He’s barely able to put them on the table before Harris is racing towards him, ready to give a full report of the goings-on of his day. 

Jess sits at the table, baby Ettie laying in her arms while she gives Viv a break and feeds her from a bottle. You place a piece of pizza on the paper plate in front of her, and one in front of Robin, who adoringly watches her girlfriend dote on a baby. Wayne sits in the third seat, thanking you with his kind smile as you pass him a slice.

You join Eddie and Harris on the couch; Jeff plops down in the La-Z-Boy on the other side of the coffee table, motioning for Viv to sit atop his legs, while Dustin has seemingly been relegated to sitting cross-legged on the floor.

“Uncle Dusty, come sit next to me!” Harris chirps, nearly knocking your plate out of your hand as he bounces onto your lap. His curls tickle your chin as he leans over to take a bite of his dinner, dragging the cheese halfway off of the crust before Eddie holds it in place. 

Dustin obliges, squishing in next to you with an apologetic laugh, but you don’t mind. Dialogue melds together, with people seamlessly leaping from one conversation to another. Robin poses the question of what everyone thinks Ettie’s first word will be, which prompts Wayne to tell the story about how Eddie tried so hard to get Harris to say dada, only for the boy to scream out “SHIT!” in the middle of Bradley’s Big Buy. 

Jeff looks across the room at his tiny daughter. “Please don’t let that be your first word,” he jokingly begs her, picking a greasy pepperoni piece from his slice and dropping it in his mouth. While he’s preoccupied, Viv steals a bite of the crust. 

“Are you all going to the July 4th carnival next week?” Eddie asks through a cheesy mouthful. 

Everyone except Dustin answers in the affirmative. “Flying back home tomorrow,” he says, a round of booing from the group forcing him to pause mid-statement, “but Suzie and I are—hey, not cool!” He swats at a crumpled napkin that Eddie lobs at his head. “Suzie and I are going to try and visit for my mom’s birthday in August,” he finishes with a pointed look. 

Harris tilts his head back so you can see straight into his flared nostrils. “Ms. Sweetheart, you’re coming to the carnival with us, right?”

“Of course! What rides are we gonna go on?” you ask, his little feet kicking at your calves as joy flows through his body. 

“The Ferris Wheel! Me an’ Daddy always go on that, an’ now you can come with us!”

He and Eddie always go on the Ferris Wheel. It’s a tradition that they share, and now they’re allowing you in. Now you’re part of it. 

You smile, kissing his forehead in a celebration of belonging and delight. “That sounds like a lot of fun,” you agree. “Do you think Daddy will play the games and win a prize for us?”

Eddie groans at your suggestion. “Those booths are all rigged. Every last one of ‘em.”

“I dunno,” Jess says teasingly, wiping Ettie’s chin with a cloth bib, “I won a stuffed animal from the whack-a-mole last year—”

“Oh, yeah! And I beat the Test Your Strength one,” Jeff adds slyly, getting a rise out of proving Eddie wrong. 

Eddie throws his voice to a falsetto, mocking his friend’s words. “I beat the Test Your Strength one,” he echoes nasally, chuckling when Jeff scoops up the napkin previously thrown at Dustin and hurls it towards Eddie. 

The rest of the evening continues like this, silly banter and recalled stories that end up being cut short or watered down for the impressionable ears listening in. It’s love in its many forms: between partners, between parents and their children, between friends. Each peal of laughter, each shared smile, each memory made adds to its foundation; brick by brick, layer by layer. 

The pink hues of sunset darken to indigo and eventually settle into a night sky, the moon shining brightly and unobscured by clouds. Eddie, Jeff, and Dustin finally manage to put the race car bed back together—and just in time. Harris’s yawns become more frequent until he can no longer fight sleep, dozing off with his cheek pressed against your chest. Soft snores leave his slightly agape mouth. 

“I feel the same way,” Wayne jokes, standing up from his chair and stretching his back with a grimace. “It’s been a long day.”

The group nods in agreement, quietly gathering their belongings and saying good-bye. 

“Thank you all for helping today,” you say, handing out hugs while keeping Harris sound asleep. He stirs but doesn’t fully wake up, even with all of the commotion. “We really appreciate it.”

Eddie seconds your sentiment. “It means a lot to us. We know we owe you a lot more than just dinner—”

“You guys are family,” Viv interrupts with a smile, gently rocking a sleeping Ettie in her arms. “This is what family does.”

A calloused hand rests on your shoulder from behind the couch; you lean your head on Eddie’s forearm and give it a small kiss. The delicate hairs brush against your lips, and you relax into his touch.

Your guests file out, already making plans to meet up at the carnival. Eddie closes the door behind them, insisting that he can beat Jeff at the Test Your Strength and demanding that his friend buy him a funnel cake when he does.

There’s a soft murmuring coming from Harris’s room, and Eddie walks as quietly as he can. He watches silently, shoulder pressed against the doorframe, as you place his son’s head onto the pillow. The crisp sheet is draped over his sleeping body, followed by the Buzz Lightyear comforter you’d bought at Kmart especially for him. Harris stirs for a moment to grab onto the blankets, tugging them to his chin and scrunching up his legs to assume a cozier position. He lets out a content sigh and slips back into his dream.

“Good night, kiddo,” you whisper, kissing his mop of curls. You look around the room, so different from when it belonged to Grandma. It seems larger, his race car bed taking up much less space than her queen-size bed did. A Lego set lies where her shoe rack once stood. The top of his dresser is covered in Hot Wheels, rather than the makeup and jewelry that Grandma had on hers. 

But it’s a good kind of different, one that comes with the natural ebb and flow of life. It brings inevitable change, and it’s your choice whether to embrace it or run away.

“You’re a natural at this bedtime thing, y’know.” Eddie’s voice, low and soft, places you back in the moment. He holds his arms out for you to nestle into them, holding you as close as he can. His thumb caresses your shoulder blade. “It normally takes a couple of stories, half a dozen pee breaks, and a horse tranquilizer to get him down.”

“I think being completely exhausted from moving helped,” you laugh into his chest. “And I’m right there with him. Man and woman might have to postpone their fire-making.”

Eddie’s chuckle vibrates against you. “Yeah, it wouldn’t be my best performance. Wanna make this one really good, since it’s a special occasion and everything.” He closes Harris’s door and leads you to the bedroom you two now share. “We gotta christen this bad boy.”

“We’ve had sex on this bed a million times.” You recall the ways his lips traced over your body, eager to memorize every inch of skin. 

“But that’s when it was only your bed,” he points out. “Now it’s ours.”

Ours. Our bed, our home, our family. Ours. 

You can barely change into pajamas before you’re falling asleep; Eddie manages to slip off his jeans and shirt, clad in plaid boxers and nothing else, before crashing down into the bed you now share. His arm slips around your waist, fingers reflexively dancing up your shirt, while he buries his head in the nape of your neck. 

When daylight breaks and the sun streams through the gaps in the blinds, Eddie has assumed a starfish position, blankets flung to the edge of the bed in what must have been a middle-of-the-night move. You’re still dozing, but he knows he has to wake you if he wants to sneak in some alone time before his son wakes up.

“Morning, gorgeous.” His breath tickles under your earlobe, pulling you close to him. You hum, not quite awake but no longer dreaming. “C’mon, wake up, pretty thing.” He licks his lips before kissing the exposed skin of your shoulder blades. 

Wiping sleep from your eyes, you turn over and face him. Your mouth lazily finds his, the cotton fabric of your pajama top fisted in his grasp. The outline of his morning wood is visible through his boxer shorts; it presses into your thigh as though greedily searching for your warmth. “You always wake up this hard?” you tease, fingertips already fiddling with the worn elastic waistband and dipping towards the treasure beneath. The scruff of his pubic hair grazes your knuckles. 

“Only when I dream of you,” he mumbles with a cheeky grin, climbing on top of you while shedding his only clothing article. The boxers fall to the floor unceremoniously. 

“Smooth.”

“I thought so.” Both hands cup your cheeks; you expect him to kiss you again, but he just gazes into your eyes. “Love waking up next to you.”

It draws a memory of the first morning you’d spent together; an inadvertent sleepover that culminated in one poorly-crafted lie and two broken hearts. He looks at you now, tired and yet still beautiful. How could I have let her slip by? How did I almost miss all of this?

You take the lead this time, arching your back so your torso melds into his, connected by desire. Eddie has your tank top off in a heartbeat, tongue swiping over your nipples the instant they’re visible. 

“Perfect,” Eddie groans, making his way down your abdomen. He places your legs on top of his shoulders, lips delicately fluttering over your clit so he can lick a broad stripe up your labia. “I know we should be having a quickie, but I can’t turn down breakfast in bed.” His face is buried in your pussy, inhaling your scent and committing it to memory. 

You giggle at his phrasing. If you question it, you know he’ll make a comment about you being good enough to eat. You give in instead, letting him ravish you just the way you both crave. 

One finger, then two, slip into your waiting cunt while his mouth focuses on your clit. You’re dripping with your arousal and his saliva; you bite your lower lip to stifle the noises begging to be heard. 

“Eddie, Eddie,” you croak, trying to keep your voice down. ��I’m so close, s-so close…”

Eddie says nothing, continuing to worship the taste of you. You can feel his victorious smile as you cry out his name in orgasmic bliss, toes flexing just as he brings you down from the high. 

“Need you, fuckin’ Christ,” he breathes, tempering the stimulation pulsing through his cock with a few short tugs. 

You nod, already electrified at the prospect of being split open on him. He sinks into you with a muted moan, savoring the way you envelop him within your warmth. “All mine, Sweetheart; you’re all mine.”

“Mhm,” you manage. Your fingernails dig into his upper back with a force that will surely leave crescent indents in his skin. “I’m all yours. Always will be.”

His thumb runs along your jaw and he smiles. She’s all mine.

The ridges of his dick form a delectable friction along your walls. Each thrust is a mutual give and take, an exchanging of selves with every breath. 

“I love you.” Eddie’s impossibly beautiful like this, hands holding your hips steady while sweat drips from his forehead onto yours. He brings your fourth finger between his lips; you can feel his tongue claiming it as his own. “And I’m gonna put a ring on this pretty little finger of yours, okay? Just want it to be perfect for you.”

You weave your fingers into his sleep-mussed curls and kiss him. “Don’t need perfect. I’ll marry you without a ring.” Whatever elaborate fairytale wedding you’d been crafting in your head is suddenly wholly unnecessary; all that matters is that you and Eddie commit to one another. But you know him well enough to not question his devotion to you. If Eddie Munson wants to give you the proposal of a lifetime, then that’s what he’s going to do. 

There will be no unkept promises this morning, no shattered hearts to mend.

He can’t hold back any longer, spilling into you with punctuating grunts. You receive every last drop gratefully, a part of him within you, and you finish for the second time today. 

“I meant it.” He gently withdraws from inside you, both of you mourning the loss of the other’s body. “When I said I’m gonna marry you, I meant it.”

“I know.”

“Good.” Eddie grins, laying on his side and propping himself up on his elbow. Sweat glistens along the sparse hairs curling over his bare chest. “Are you hungry? I know I worked up an appetite.”

You kiss his nose, biting the end teasingly. He yelps in mock pain, so you kiss it again. “I am, but I have to be honest—between all the unpacking and sex, I don’t have the energy to make breakfast.” 

“Me neither,” he admits with a laugh. “Why don’t we shower, wake up Sleeping Beauty,” he nudges his head towards Harris’s room, “and go to the diner.” He stretches and stands, eyes drawn to the nightstand, where the framed photo from Wayne leans against a porcelain lamp. Happiness captured with the click of a Kodak.

You’re smiling, thinking about sharing silver dollar pancakes with Harris again just like you used to do with Grandma. Somewhere along the way, you grew from the child to the adult in that scenario, passing on a tradition you never even knew had been started. 

“That sounds amazing.” As you say it aloud, something in addition to hunger gnaws at your stomach. You’ve been putting it off, hiding from the truth, but you want to stop pretending. You want to feel everything that comes with accepting reality. Without sorrow, you would never recognize joy. Without grief, you won’t understand the depths of our love beyond the physical plain. 

“Could we make a quick pit stop first?”

Though it’s still morning, the late June humidity has your shirt clinging to you, sweat beading along the collar and around your bra clasp. You close the car door behind you; Eddie shuffles to open the back door for Harris. The little boy unbuckles his seatbelt and hops out of the booster seat, glancing between you and his dad. You take his left hand and Eddie takes his right as you walk over to the stone. 

“Hi, Grandma,” you whisper, crouching down to better see the engraving. Gently, your fingers dance over the etched words: Beloved wife, mother, grandmother, and friend. “I know I haven’t been by to visit you yet, but I’m here now.” You muster up a small smile. “And I brought Eddie and Harris with me. They…they loved you, too.”

You falter for a moment, unsure how to proceed. Eddie’s hand rubs your upper back, not caring about how perspiration-soaked it is. 

“Do you want some privacy?” he murmurs. “Harris and I can wait by the car. You take as long as you need.”

You nod, watching them walk hand in hand to give you your space to grieve. Filling your lungs with a deep breath, you speak what’s been in your heart. 

“I need to thank you,” you start, talking directly to where her name is engraved, “for a lot of things. But I guess, um, the most important is how you taught me to forgive without taking shit—can I swear in a cemetery?—from people.” Your laugh is heavy with the weight of remembrance. 

“I miss you. A lot,” you continue, tears now spilling freely from your eyes. “I miss doing puzzles together. I miss cooking together. I’m going to try and make your applesauce for Thanksgiving this year. I think Harris will really like it.” You swallow thickly. “If you’d met him before you got sick, you would’ve adored him. He’s got the biggest heart of any kid I’ve ever met.”

You’re finding it easier to talk; everything you need to say is coming naturally and without hesitation. 

“He’s…he’s living in your room. I guess, technically, it’s his room now. But a little part of me will always consider it your room, too. And I think that’s okay.” You nod, confirming to yourself that it’s all part of the process. “He keeps asking me and Eddie when we’re going to get married. To be honest, I’m kind of wondering the same thing.” You smile at the thought of marrying Eddie, maybe even legally adopting Harris, if that’s something they also want. “I’m not in a rush, though, but I really do believe that Eddie’s the one. He’s my person, and I’m his. So, yeah, I’m definitely hoping that he proposes sooner rather than later.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to visit. I always thought losing you wouldn’t be as hard as it was, because it felt like I had already lost you to dementia.” It feels silly to admit aloud, but it’s the truth. “I should’ve known that it wouldn’t be easy. But I promise, I’ll stop by more often, and I’ll have plenty of cute Harris stories to tell you.”

There’s just a bit more that you need to share before you can go. “I love you, Grandma. And…thank you for loving me, too.”

You stand up, pressing on your knees to ensure your balance. Taking one last look at the stone, you run your fingers over the jagged marble and turn back towards Eddie and Harris.

The little boy is perched on his father’s hip, squinting into the sunlight to make out your form. “You ready, Ms. Sweetheart?”

You blink through misty eyes, staring at the two people in front of you. Ten months ago, if someone had told you that your one-night stand at a dive bar would end up being the love of your life, you would have laughed in their face. But the universe does what it must to remain in balance, and it doesn’t humor any arguments.

Inhale, exhale, repeat. This is where you’re meant to be. This is who you’re meant to be: a partner, a friend, an almost-mommy.

“Yeah,” you say finally, the tears clearing from your vision and a genuine smile forming on your lips. “I’m ready.”

--

💚

[httpiastri]

2:35 am – op81

oscar comes home after a gp to find you already asleep in your bed. 

genre: fluff

pairing: gender neutral!reader x oscar piastri

warnings: none

author's note: thanks for the love on the last story, hope u enjoy this one too. &lt;3

f1 masterlist

oscar’s last flight back home from the latest grand prix had been delayed for a few hours. he was supposed to land at 10pm, but it wasn’t until 2am that he had finally found himself a cab to take him from the airport.

to say that he was completely exhausted would be an understatement. he had barely been getting any sleep in his first two flights, and in the last one, there had been a screaming baby in right behind him.

plus, as always, it had been a very tiresome weekend, and he just really couldn’t wait to crawl down in bed next to you.

you had done your best to stay up and wait for him, you really had. you had drunk some tea while watching the news, you had taken a cold shower, and you had even gone out for a quick walk just to get some fresh air into your system.

yet, you thought you’d allow yourself to just rest your eyes in your and oscar’s shared bed, just for a moment. and of course, the low light of the lamp on your bedside table had lulled you into a sweet sleep.

oscar wasn’t surprised that you were asleep, despite the fact that you had promised to stay up; you hadn’t answered any of his texts ever since he landed, so he just figured. but when he saw your sleeping figure under the sheets, cuddled into your pillows, he couldn’t control the warm feeling spreading through his chest.

his lips turned into a smile as he quietly put down his bag on the floor and made his way over to the bed. either it was his scent, or maybe it was just his general presence that you picked up on even when you were asleep, but something made you slowly open your eyes as he stepped closer. they were still drowsy, but they caught his gaze quickly.

“hey, love,” he said, sitting down next to you on the bed.

your eyes fell shut again, half because of the sleepiness and half because of the fondness you felt at the pet name. “i’m sorry for not staying up,” you mumbled, nuzzling your head further into your pillows. “i tried my best.”

one of his hands caressed your cheek and you looked up at him. “don’t worry. we’ll talk tomorrow, okay?”

you nodded slowly, a tiny smile tugging on your lips. his thumb brushed over your cheek and you instantly felt so warm and fuzzy.

he was home again.

he was never gone for too many weeks in a row, and yet you still always missed him so badly.

but, there was an upside to it too; no matter how many times he had gone away by now, you always felt the same joy when you saw him again. you always got giddy and excited like a teenage girl talking to her crush, and you loved it.

you loved him.

he let go of your cheek to remove the hoodie he was wearing and he lifted the sheets before sliding in right next to you. you instinctively leaned into him, shutting your eyes once again.

“brush your teeth,” you told him.

your words were slurring slightly, so oscar could tell that you weren’t completely awake. he chuckled and pulled an arm around your waist. “i already brushed my teeth on the plane.”

“hmm. good boy.”

his heart swelled at your words. he took a deep breath and opted for a kiss to your forehead.

“sleep well, darling.” oscar leaned back to turn of the bedside lamp, before settling in place with you again, this time even closer than before.

oscar has spent so many night like this and therefore he's sure of all of your tells when it comes to sleeping. your breath was deep and steady, and your entire body seemed completely relaxed – two sure signs that you had fallen asleep already.

therefore, he was surprised when one of your hands reached up to the back of his head. his eyes watched your otherwise still figure as your fingers dragged through his hair. you seemed to be doing it almost subconsciously, and he smiled at the thought of you wanting to feel him under your fingers even when you’re asleep.

he had really missed being this close to you. and if it wasn’t for his career, he would never want to leave again.

[ajortga]

the forgotten letter

pairing: tara carpenter x fem reader

a/n- ahh guys it's finally here! probably one of the longest word count story i've done with around 6k words, but yes! for the people who voted on my poll, i did both angst and happy ending<3. i hope you enjoy!

thank you for 100 followers, i guess this is a special!

-

You think you loved Tara for as long as you could remember.

Well, years later, you think you loved her ever since you laid eyes on her, if you knew what love meant.

It was like a click, a connection, the kind of love you didn't even know was real out of movies.

But it was, it all was when you met Tara.

You had met her in second grade, well, you could say a year after. How could you forget that every day, you were on the swings, and the only reason was to be able to see Tara eating at the same table with her lunch box without being caught staring. You always looked at the sky when she turned, sometimes you would make eye contact and she'd give you the sweetest smile that made you kick your feet and giggle till you fell asleep with a smile on your face two nights in a row.

You were always a shy soul when it came to making conversations with strangers, especially someone as beautiful as Tara, with her wavy, long hair that seemed to always be perfect. A little messy? You wouldn't dare to say that, one small messy hair is like realizing how it complimented the girl you thought was perfect enough. Her dark brown eyes seemed to have stars in them, you loved stars. 

The first time you made an interaction, it was the same procedure, lunch-time bell rings, your classmates squeal, you all run out, and you make your way to the second swing that was next to the lunch tables. Then you'd wait and wait, till you saw her, then you'd swing, even though you weren't very good, you only got a foot high at most times. 

Usually, when you would swing, your friends would be there, but when you told them about Tara, and how you said, "I think she's very very very pretty." They all laughed, saying "ewwwwww.." They kind of left you by yourself on the swings from then forward.

You were sad, but that didn't stop you from always looking at her. 

Tara noticed, you were staring at your feet, swinging lowly and she felt bad, she didn't like strangers, but she always saw you, it was like you were friends. So she abandoned her lunch box and walked over to you. 

"Hi.. Do you want me to help swing you? My sissy Sam taught me some ways so you could swing higher! I can push you if you want!"

You looked up at her mouth open as they quickly turned into a wide smile, Tara thought it was cute. 

"Yes please! I-I don't know how to swing very high.."

She giggled, shaking her head as she approached closer behind you, where the handles were, "I know, every day you are here and every time, I see you swing and swing! But your friends.. They aren't here. Are they absent?"

You shook your head, a little pout showing, "No.. They.." You didn't know what to say, and as much as you wanted to lie.. You couldn't to this girl that made you smile. "I come here and see you every day, and I always want to talk to you, but I feel weird and not comfy when I try talking to people I don't know very well. My mommy says it's called being shy. I think you are very pretty. My friends don't like when people say that. They say it's yucky. So now I'm a little lonely."

Tara looked surprised, but it quickly turned into a small smile, tilting her head, "You think I'm pretty?"

You nod your head up and down, "I think you are very pretty, I see these stars in your eyes that no one else has, I think it's cool."

She smiles, happily, "I think you're very pretty too! Wow! I never been called pretty! Thank you! Wow!"

You turn to her and give her a smile you never knew existed, it looked so happy, "Thank you!"

"My name is Tara by the way. Tara Carpenter!"

"I'm Y/N! Y/N Y/L/N! That name fits you.. Tara.. I don't think I'll remember that.." (That was a lie, you memorized it by the time you got home and asked your mom to write it on your notebook..) "I think I'll have to call you a shorter name.. Like.. Cheese!" 

She makes a small grimace, but it looked so cute, "Cheese? You're funny!"

You both giggled as you give her a cheeky grin, "I think we'll be really good friends."

"Me too," She says with a soft voice, pushing you on the swings, higher than  you could ever imagine. You could see the clouds and felt like you could touch them, but most of all, you could see her name in the sky. 

"Tara Carpenter," You whispered to yourself with a squeal as Tara pushed you higher.

- - 

In 6th grade, your parents had a big fight that made your eyes go wide, making you hide under your bed as you clawed at your ears, silently sobbing. Sure they fought and it could be bad, but this one was different, it was worse, screaming, crying, your walls shaking and random things being thrown. You found out that they got divorced.

Then at that night, you grabbed your phone and opened your window with tears in your eyes, going to Tara's house, running as fast as you could move.

You climbed up the ladder that Tara had shown you and crawled to her room on top of the house, knocking quietly on her window, sniffling.

A long moment later, you could see her shadow as she opened it, rubbing her eyes as she looked at you, "Y/N?"

Then, she looked up at your face, the only light was from her lamp and the moonlight, finally seeing your tear stained cheeks and crying eyes.

"You're crying," She says, concern flooding through her features as she pulled you inside and onto her bed. 

She sat next to you as you stared at her stuffed animal.

"Not too much.." You murmur, tears daring to fall down again.

"Why?"

Should you tell her something that has been going on for almost your whole life?..

"My parents fought today.. Oh Tara.. It was terrifying.. There was screaming, crying, I heard so many things being thrown and I tried everything.. It just w-wouldn't stop.. They.. I.. They..." You sniffle, your mouth opening to let out soft cries, she knew what happened, your mom and dad weren't together anymore.

Something in Tara broke, she couldn't see you cry. Seeing you cry made her eyes water, especially someone like you.

She wrapped her arms around you and pulled you closer, making you sob against her chest, rubbing circles behind your back, something she learned in the past. 

"It's all going to be okay. I'm here. I won't ever leave you."

Your lip trembles, looking up at her, "Do you really promise?"

She can see it in your eyes, fear. You don't want her to leave you. 

"I promise."

You nod against her chest, turning away from her so your back is facing her stomach as she hugs you.

A moment passes before you turn to her again, she could see something swimming underneath those eyes, uncertainty. 

"Do you really promise? Y-You're all I have."

Tara can feel her heart squeeze as she nods, nuzzling your nose. "I really promise."

You nod, "I trust you. I always trust you." You whisper, sniffling as you hug her, your nose buried against her chest as you cry, cries turning more muffled as she can sense your beginning to fall asleep. You never heard, but as you slept, she kissed your forehead quickly, whispering a small, "Love you."

- -

When Tara was 15, her parents divorced like yours, and both her dad and sister left her. She didn't know what she felt.

She was upset, she cried in her bed for months.. 

But then, she felt angry. Angry at her dad, her sister, at the world. 

It was a turn of events for her and it caused her to shut everyone out. Everyone. 

Including you.

She didn't want to take any anger out on you, she would never be angry you. But she always felt like if she talked to someone she cared deeply about, like you, she would snap.

But she never thought abandoning you would hurt you as much as she thought.

At first, it was when she saw you in the halls, and you saw her, but as soon as she met your eyes, she would turn a corner, seeing your waving hand fall limp to your sides. She felt bad. But it would get easier, and it did.. But she always felt that small feeling of guilt eating at her.

It happened multiple times, but you thought she just couldn't see you.

Then it was in the classes you shared when she wouldn't talk to you. 

You usually would talk to her, but whenever she wouldn't talk to you first, you would think she's busy.

But she never turned to you with a joke, a conversation, not even a glance when you saw.

You sat alone at lunch, you sat alone at dinner too, maybe be greeted with your dad if he was drinking.

No more good morning, goodnight, or any texts from Tara.

You tried approaching her, but every time you'd lock eyes, she'd give you this stare that made your gut twist and walk the other way.

You couldn't help but cry, you felt betrayed, everything was crumbling. You had lost the one person that you cared so so deeply about, the person you desperately wanted to be by your side for the rest of your life.

It was hard to get any sleep, because most of the time, you'd be staring at the ceiling, waiting for a goodnight text that would never come. The goodnight text that let you fall asleep as quickly as you shut your eyes.

And you thought that it was because of you, she didn't want to see you ever again. 

You cried, every single night till you passed out from exhaustion. 

Little did Tara know, that there was a letter on the side of your desk, the fresh ink marking it's words on the paper beginning to see the seasons change, beginning to grow as time went on.

The letter you were going to give Tara confessing your love.

The letter that you spent day and night on. 

The letter that was now untouched for months, left on the side of your desk.

The letter, filled with your words of adoration, never being able to experience a reaction, because you never gave to her.

You felt numb, you didn't know what to feel, but you felt abandoned, it hurt so much, it hurt harder than a piercing knife in the heart.

Tara noticed you began to avoid her, began to finally accept it.

You never truly accepted it, you would say you just lost hope, 3 years had passed so quickly.

In class, when she'd turn to you, you never turned back.

When she would sit at the spot you both sat at, she would see your shadow sitting on the chair, untouched and cold.

Sometimes she'd see you at the park, just sitting on a picnic towel and writing in your journal.

Under the tree you both would always sit,

Never having the guts to approach you.

She would say you seemed peaceful, but you weren't. Because whenever she saw your face, it's like your sweet persona was gone and faded, the vibrant colors you used to have was long gone.

Replaced with eyebags, tired eyes, and hair that was always covered by headphones or a hoodie.

Tara never knew why her leaving you left a big mark on your heart, you two were just friends. Right?

She tried to stop thinking about why, but she couldn't help it, you popped up in her head on nights she couldn't go to bed so easily.

- -

Tara was looking at the stars one night, just staring, the moonlight glistening on her cheeks.

She thought of you. She thought back to second grade, words that were ages ago. She could hear your tiny voice.

"I see these stars in your eyes that no one else has, I think it's cool."

She then realized she made a huge mistake, why didn't she think of it before?

Her leaving you was like you being abandoned again, she left you in the dark when she said she would never abandon you. But she left just like your parents.. She left just like how her parents did..

She promised that night you had ran to her. She promised that she would never leave you, and you weren't the person who trusted people often. 

But you trusted her. You knew that she wouldn't leave you.

You thought she wouldn't leave you.

She was the first person you thought of when you were afraid, because she was really all you had.

"Do you really promise? Y-You're all I have."

She remembers those words she said that night, her voice running around her mind, saying the words, "I promise."

She remembers you telling her your parents divorced, she remembers you telling her that when you were with your mom, she was never home, you never had a holiday to spend with your family. Most days alone, and when you met Tara, she always let you come for the holidays.

She was all you had, and you were faithful in what she told you. But she abandoned you, just like everybody in your life had did. She had did something she never wanted to be in the first place. She was so mad that she was left by her family, even when her mom was still with her, that she didn't realize that she did the one thing she wanted so badly not to be.

Abandoned, you were abandoned when she was all you had.

She knew she had to do what was right, she thought distancing herself would work. But it made you worse. She had to fix it.

- -

You were sitting at the park, same place, with your journal, your tote bag in the other, listening to god knows what. 

(You were listening to "The Night We Met" by Lord Huron..)

Tara was going to finally approach you.

Something in her gut told her something was wrong, something was going to be wrong. But she sighed, just brushing it off and thinking that it would be you possibly never forgiving her.

She sat next to you, making your head turn from the small thump next to you.

Your eyes were shocked, mouth agape, whispering the only word she could make up.

"Tara.."

She bit her lip, but instead of smiling at her, you didn't say anything, looking at her with a small scowl and turned your head back to your journal, exhaling an angry huff.

She frowned, looking at you, reaching for your shoulder.

"Look.. Y/N-"

"-Save it Tara." You snapped, making her flinch.

"Y/N, please."

You make a long sigh, turning to her. "Tara I really don't have time for this. You shouldn't be being here right now. You can't be here today! You shouldn't be!"

She looked confused but she kept going, "Look I-I'm sorry. For leaving you."

You turned to her again, at this point she could read your gaze, you were angry, you were upset, most of all behind those eyes, you were hurt.

"You can't just leave me for 3 years and come back to apologize thinking I'll forgive you just like that! You're out of my life for so long and come back like nothing has happened."

She exhaled, "Let me just speak! I-I've learned from then and I'm trying to apologize!"

You stopped her, "I don't want you apologizing for this damage that has caused my life to crumble and has already been dealt with.."

She interrupted you, "I know! But I was dealing with so much! M-my parents divorced and I thought letting you go would be best.. Please, I'm trying! Can't we just go back to what we had and forget what has happened?"

You were hurt, tears brimming at your eyes, "You don't understand! Are you forgetting that you left me? YOU left me Tara! And you didn't bother to even tell me or apologize when you left. I was depressed okay? And it was because of you! Every single damn day for three years I was never able to sleep properly because I would think that you would finally text me one night and wish me a goodnight! You were all I had! When my parents divorced I didn't leave you!"

At this point, when your mouth opened, soft cries were being heard, "You were all I had.." You repeat, sniffling, "You promised me you wouldn't leave and that's just what you did."

She felt bad, the walls you put up to get away from her were all falling apart, she saw the little girl that she knew once before. The little girl she saw that night your parents divorced when they both left you. She felt all this guilt that has built up when she ignored you beginning to swarm in her chest, she felt horrible.

"I'm sorry. I don't even know who I was.." She whispered, looking at your shaking figure.

You turned to her, your tears flowing down, like the three years to stop them wasn't enough.

"Tara just s-stop! I-I'm just getting over you after this long and I can't have you here again. N-not today."

She looked at you, aghast, eyes wide, "What?"

You cover your face, hands sliding down to stop, "Yes Tara! I loved you! I fucking loved you and the day I was going to tell you, you left! YOU left me!" You screamed, angry, betrayed, sentence ending with a cry.

She was stunned. You loved her.. You loved Tara. And she thought that when she loved you, pushing you away could make her forget her feelings, making sure you were safe, but she caused this.

You didn't wait for her to respond, shuffling through your tote bag and grabbing up a crumpled piece of paper, slamming it in her hand before you got up and left, the gush of wind hitting her hair as she stared at her hand in horror, not knowing what to do.

- - night

Tara sat in her room, staring at the ceiling, hair draped all over her bed as the only light was from her lamp, only adding a light orange hue to her room.

She felt bad, she should've known that she never should've left you. She should've thought about how you were going to feel like. It made her want to cry.

As much as she's staring, she notices the crumpled up paper you gave her. She wasn't even sure what it was, maybe that's why she was so scared of opening it.

She grabs it from the side of her night stand and slowly uncrumples it, revealing a letter.

From you 3 years ago.

-

Dear Tara,

We've been friends for so long and I remember when you first came up to me in second grade because you noticed my friends weren't playing with me like they usually do everyday. To be honest, I never told you but for some reason, years ago, I remember staring at you every day while you ate lunch because you seemed so sweet and I wanted to approach you so badly. It's weird that myself in second grade would even do that. But you should know the only reason why I sat on the swings, every, single, day was because I wanted to see you. That's the first time we've ever met and I'm so blessed for that day because now, you're my best friend. Everyday I'm so happy to have you to be the reason I get to smile and have a shoulder to cry on or rest on. I've been wanting to tell you this for so long, but I remember feeling a strange feeling in my chest when I first confessed my problems at home with my parents and felt your soft hands touch mine to comfort me. 

It was so so weird. Love always seemed like something I might never have because I found it to be gross. But when I met you, I felt like love wasn't so bad anymore. That day, I remember feeling this warmness in my cheeks when you hugged me, I remember feeling something I don't feel for people often. I felt trust. That's when I knew I was falling in love with you. you've been there every step of the way and I don't know where I'd be without you. Tara, I want to write to you that I love you. I've been falling ever since on nights where I got yelled at and came to your house crying, when you invited me over for Christmas with your family because I didn't have a home I wanted to go to, I love you because you're Tara and it's so hard to explain. but at the same time it isn't. I don't think I met someone as loving, understanding, and caring as you, I've seen you as someone who can light up a room. Even on my bad days, you somehow manage to make me smile, not many people can do that for a person like me.

My mother was planning to move to Canada in like 3 years, she said 3 years later in April, but she said it was up to me. And I told her we had to wait just a little longer because I wanted to give this letter to you and see what you said. I think I won't leave this place because it stores all our memories, like at the coffee shops or the tree we sit down at every morning of Saturday. I'm not leaving because you're the only person that is making me stay. I would've been long gone if you weren't here. But meeting you has caused me to look forward to something to everyday. To someone. I don't think I've ever been so happy to you know, just walk to your house randomly and pop out under your bed and see your scared reaction. But, Tara Carpenter, I love you. I don't even think these words can even explain the kind of comfort, or need that I feel when you're by my side. I hope that these words can help you realize how much you've taken a toll on my life, and possibly, one day I can be by your side for the rest of my life.

All my love,

Y/N/Y/L/N

&lt;;33

-

Tara covered her mouth, trying to cover a cry, which came out muffled. Your words. Her betrayal. She left you before you could even tell her. 

She thought of your face in her thoughts, she thought of seeing the letter fall out of your hands when she ignored you on every day she could ever see you. 

She thought of you crumpling it with broken sobs and throwing it on your desk.

She thought of the letter you were going to give her, the letter that was supposed to be given, but never was.

The forgotten letter beginning to age.

And noticed, it was all ruffled and there were marks of fallen, long old tears on it, seeing how the ink smudged from the tears.

The letter fell, tears falling from her eyes and streaming down her face.

It must've been so long ago. But it felt like yesterday. Even though it was 3 years ago.

She could've changed the slightest thought of her mind the day she began to ignore you.

If she did, everything would've been right. She could picture her holding hands with you, cuddling at night with your favorite movie playing in the background. You two would've been in desperate, everlasting, love. If her parents didn't divorce, she could see you, in your usual wavy hair with a ribbon tied from the back with your half up half down, the smooth letter laying in your arms, running up to her. She could picture the way you smiled, the way your silly smile made her smile back with a tinted blush on her cheeks. She could picture the way she would jump up and down and say she loved you too.

Everything would've been perfect.

If she didn't leave you in the first place.

Instead, she was left with your letter, crumpled, not smooth, wrinkled, seeing the way the letter couldn't bear to be left anymore. 

Tara fell asleep that night, broken, feeling horrible for the way you must've felt, with the crinkled letter in her hand. 

- -

The next morning, Tara was at the park, she could see a train station up ahead, New York's local train station that she would take when she had to travel.

Tara was sitting under the tree you always sat at with her. The tree that held so many memories, the way when spring would hit, the white flowers would fall on the green grass when you two would be together. The way the tree's flowers began to wilt when you began to sit alone, like the friendship that began to wilt. 

She waited, you sat at this tree every single day, but why weren't you coming? She waited, looking up at the flowers, they weren't very white anymore, the fallen flowers a little orange from being dried. It was spring, it was April, the flowers should've been whiter, but they weren't as bright. What a metaphor and sign it was for her. But still, they were as pretty as ever. 

She bit her lip, sighing, grabbing the letter you wrote her again, reading it again. Then before she could read it again, as she looked up, she could see..

You? 

You were at the train station, you held a luggage, looked packed, with your hair down, usually ribbon in your hair, waiting to enter the train.

Her eyes widened, and it came to her, everything made sense, her thoughts unfolding, everything like magic was happening. 

She remembered something, something..

She quickly read the letter she was reading, then her eyes expanded with fear.

Then she remembered, it was 3 years since she left you, and it was April.

"My mother was planning to move to Canada in like 3 years, she said 3 years later in April, but she said it was up to me. And I told her we had to wait just a little longer because I wanted to give this letter to you and see what you said. I think I won't leave this place because it stores all our memories, like at the coffee shops or the tree we sit down at every morning of Saturday. I'm not leaving because you're the only person that is making me stay."

- -

happy ending

"Fuck!" Tara cried, grabbing the letter as she ran after you.

It couldn't be too late, it couldn't have been today! 

As she ran, her legs taking her as far as they could, she could hear your voice in her mind,

"You shouldn't be being here right now. You can't be here today! You shouldn't be!"

She should've known you were going to leave, she should've seen last night! Is that why you were so afraid to see her when she came up to you? Because you knew you were going to be gone the next day? And she was going to keep you from leaving? Because you didn't have the heart to really tell her why she couldn't have talked to you?

It all made sense.

Tara sobbed as tears fell like a thunderstorm,  running and seeing the train doors open, there were at least 10 people in front of you waiting to get on, it made her more desperate, running after you.

She screamed your name, she was so close but yet so far away, why can't the people move slower? 

Tara lost her father and sister, she couldn't lose you. She can't. She needed to apologize, she never got to say her true apology.

She was almost there, and you were so close to entering the train, making her run up the stairs as fast as she could, panting and losing her breath.

The day was beginning to lose hope, there was only a few more people who needed to get on before it closed, before you did. 

She saw your figure, your pretty face, not focusing on the tired eye bags as she got up the stairs, running to the train.

Tara screamed your name as loud as she could, making you turn, and her grabbing your arm, pulling you and your luggage out of the train, seeing it start to roll away.

 She was panting hard, you turning to see her, your eyes full of fear, confusion, and most of all, a wave of.. Hope?

For some reason, it took her a while to catch her breath, but before you could say something, she hugged you, tightly.

The arms of you wrapped around her stomach, she felt you melt in her arms, burying your face against her chest, as she embraced you, the letter you wrote falling to the floor.

Tara cried as you both hugged, whispering in a slight broken voice, "I'm sorry Y-Y/N.."

You were crying too, softly as you hugged her, "I know.. It's okay. We're okay.." 

She kept talking, she felt horrible, "I-I left you when you needed me.. I was the only person you relied on a-and I left because I w-wasn't thinking about how you felt.. I thought t-that if I c-could push you away, these feelings I-I felt would go away and I wouldn't take m-my anger out on you for my parents divorcing.. I'm s-so s-sorry.." The girl's scent comforted you, reminding you of your past, making you hug her more.

Tara could hear you hiccupping on cries as she twisted your hair, "I didn't even k-know you needed me that much, you s-should've told me you were planning to leave."

You looked up at her, you were crying horribly, she swept bangs away from your face to see your tired, broken face that has been building up these past 3 years.

"I-I thought you didn't want to see me anymore.. I thought you didn't need me.. I-I thought you left because you hated me.. or didn't care about me anymore.. I couldn't bear to think about you breaking your promise.. I thought you abandoned me.. I was s-so hurt that I j-just did all these things that weren't me.. I tried to avoid you.. I couldn't sleep or eat.. I was s-so scared because I had no one.." You said, voice barely a whisper, raw and full of hurt.

Tara's eyes widened a little, a wave of strong guilt hitting her, as she shushed you.. "No Y/N.. Of course not.. I never hated you.. I-I loved you and I couldn't bear to think that I would take my anger out that you never caused on you.. S-so I avoided you and didn't think about how m-much it would affect you. I'm sorry.." Tara said again, voice cracking.

You nodded against her chest, sniffling as Tara saw the tears fall again, wiping them.

"I love you," she whispered, "I always had."

She saw your eyes slightly sparkle, that sparkle that she thought she'd never see, the sparkle that disappeared that day she left.

Her hands reached to grab the letter she dropped, showing it to you, "Let's try to restart, okay?"

You were still crying, but managed to make a small smile formed as you nodded, "Tara, I love you. I've loved you for so long, I've loved you when I realized that you were the one person that I could finally trust, a word that I thought that might never happened, but it did because o-of you. C-can we maybe.. Just.."

She pulled you a little closer, grinning just a little as she nodded her head before you could finish, "Yes."

Then she kissed you softly, it was like everything had never happened, she could feel the way you hugged her, the way the wilted flowers were going to flourish again, the letter that was forgotten, finally given.

"Do you really promise you won't leave me?.."

You both locked eyes when pulling away, Tara held up a pinky. 

"I don't break pinky promises."

You take her pinky and link it with yours, hugging her again.

"I trust you."

Every bad thing that happened between you two was long forgotten.

- -

angst ending

Tara's eyes widened with fear, seeing you with a packed luggage, your figure entering the train, you couldn't.. Not today..

"Fuck!" She cried, the train was not to far, she could still make it.

She screamed your name, all the feelings towards you she felt spilling out from her scream as she ran after you. 

She ran, ran ran ran, running out of breath as her shoes crumpled on dry leaves and grass, crying.

"No! You can't be! Y/N! Please!" She screamed, but her voice was muffled, you couldn't hear her. 

Tara was so close, yet so far as she kept running, getting closer, an apology of cries coming out.

The train got closer and closer as she finally saw you, screaming your name.

You finally turned around, knowing the voice all to well as you turned to see her. 

Then the train doors closed, your eyes only being seen through the window as she cried out your name, shaking her head in disbelief, her eyes filled with regret and tears.

You looked at her, like you couldn't believe she was here, you thought you'd never see her again as your hand reached up to touch the window, your touch ghosting on her face as she could hear you mouth out her name.. "Tara.." Then she could sense the sense of shame on your face, sorrow.

"Please.. It's not too late.." She sobbed, her voice going in the crevices of the doors.

Then the train began to move, as she saw you getting farther and farther away, your hand on the window as she saw you mouth the words, "I'm sorry."

She ran after the train, but knew deep down, she wasn't going to make it. She wasn't going to see you again, the train leaving her sight as she cried, regretting the days she ignored you, regretting the way she made you think that she didn't ever care. She abandoned someone when knowing, years ago, she was once the girl who promised to protect them and never leave her side.

She knew that you had left, all those memories you two had created were left with her now. She knew that you weren't going to come back.

She never even got to say goodbye. She never got to say sorry. She never got to tell you she loved you, she loved you all of these years. She never knew where you would be. She would never know if you two would ever meet again. 

The only sound she could hear was the wind blowing in her hair, blowing the muffled sounds of you two laughing and giggling, what you two once were, what you two could've been, it was just too late. You would just be a memory for her, a memory she could never forgive herself for. A broken memory she knew she caused. The memory was broken but she also knew, long season months ago, she broken your promised heart.

I had all and then most of you, some and now none of you.

Take me back to the night we met.

Tara thought back to the day you two met, the day you became friends. The day that led to you falling to her years later. The day that led to her falling for you, then pushing you away.

The day that led to this.

If she could see your face one last time and kiss you, everything would be okay.

Tara knew that she was just too late, seeing the train long gone, tears in her eyes as she let out a choking sob, the letter falling out of her hand, long forgotten.

[fvllingflower]

「Miss You」

pairing: idol!joshua, idol!reader (afab)

genre: fluff, and smut

warning: making out, hickeys, boob play, oral(f!receiving), handjob, fingering, spanking, unprotected sex (safe sex, is great sex!), aftercare

song recommendation: miss you by (sic)boy

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Joshua is very clingy to you. It's in his lover boy nature, you guess. Sadly, though, Joshua had a concert in Japan to attend to, which meant being away from you for about 3 weeks. But for certain even miles apart, he always made sure to call you or text you even if it's to say he misses you.

Joshua currently was in his hotel room. He finished a concert up, and when he got back to the hotel, he hopped into the shower. When he got out of the shower, he decided to face time you. You, of course, answered the call and saw him with his phone prompt up and him in just a towel around his waist.

"You're a tease" You muttered.

"Hi love, I miss you" He looked down at the phone and smiled.

"What are you doing, baby?" You asked, not being able to see his face clearly.

"My skincare, of course" He smiled.

"Got stay handsome for my love" He joked. You chuckled softly.

"Mm okay baby" You sat your phone on top of the laundry dryer and saw the camera could only see the ceiling.

"What are you doing love?" Joshua asked sweetly.

"Laundry" You replied quickly.

"I can't see your beautiful face, though" He pouted. Joshua grabbed his phone and went to lay on the bed. You sighed and grabbed your phone and prompted it up so he could see what you're doing.

"Better?" You went back to taking clothes out the dryer.

"Much better, love" He smiled softly.

Some time passed, and you were now back in the bedroom with your phone prompted up on the dresser so he could watch you put clothes up, but suddenly you walked out of frame and then came back with a suitcase and started putting clothes in there. These actions confused Joshua.

"What are you doing, love? What are you packing for?" He asked.

"Mm? Oh, me and the girls are gonna go on a trip to Jeju Island" You continued packing.

"Oh really? Just for fun or for promotions?" He smiled.

"For fun" You answered.

Some more timed passed, and now you were laying in bed, still on call with Joshua, who was now dressed. Just by how he was looking at you through the camera. You knew he missed you like hell.

"Mm did you go shopping?" You smiled.

"Yeah, I got some shirts and some jewelry" He smiled back, admiring your face.

"Did you get prettier since I've been gone?" Joshua smiled as he watched you blush.

"I don't think so, baby" You smiled widely.

Eventually, you fell asleep on call with Joshua, but he didn't hang up. Joshua fell asleep on call as well. You woke up the next morning and looked at your phone and saw a sleeping Joshua. You smiled and took a screenshot of the moment. By the time Joshua woke up, you were in the kitchen making breakfast.

"Mmm love?" Joshua mumbled.

"Mm? Morning baby" You smiled.

After some time, you two hung up since he had some press to do, and you had a plane to go on, but he didn't know that. You got on the plane: South Korea to Japan. After some hours, you arrived in Japan, but you didn't want to surprise Joshua just yet. Your friend/member Mei got a hotel room where you two would get ready for the Seventeen concert.

You and Mei got to the concert even if you two could afford it. You still decided not to get front row seats. You two sat towards the back. As you two waited for the concert to start, Joshua sent you a picture of him before going on stage. You couldn't contain your smile when you saw his face.

Finally the concert started. You and Mei were cheering them on, and you took some videos of Joshua and the rest of the group as they performed. You two were shouting lyrics like there was no tomorrow. The concert ended, and Vernon was quick to text you to come backstage. Vernon was the only member who knew you were coming to Japan for the concert. You and Mei got towards backstage, but the security was hesitant to let yall in. Vernon came out and told them it was okay. You two got backstage and were greeted by the members, but you couldn't find Joshua. Jeonghan told you he was in the changing room. You waited for Joshua to come out, and he eventually did. Even though he was wearing baggy clothes, he still looked so handsome.

"Baby!" You ran towards him. He didn't have enough to process you were here before you hugged him.

"I- Love?" Joshua looked shocked but happy. Joshua hugged you tightly. You looked up at him.

"Surprise!" You smiled widely. His hand cupped your face.

"Oh my god. Darling! But what about your trip?" He was still processing everything.

"This is my trip... I lied about Jeju Island because I wanted to surprise you" Joshua finally smiled wide.

"I just can't believe it. You're here, you're really here. This isn't a dream!" Joshua needed to make sure his brain wasn't tricking him.

"I'm here, in the flesh" You smiled, and Joshua kissed you passionately. Joshua then picked you up and spun you around.

"I love you so much" He put you down and kissed you again.

"I love you more" You whispered. You two just stood there for a little bit, just hugging and enjoying each other's embrace.

"Okay, break it up, love birds" Junhui shouted. You two broke the hug and looked at the members.

"Yeah yeah.. I know we're disgustingly in love" Joshua laughed.

All of Seventeen, including you, went back to the hotel. Joshua pulled you into his hotel room and quickly pressed you against the wall, and started kissing you. His hands explored your body, and it's familiar path. Your hands on his chest as you two kissed deeply. He broke the kiss and pressed his forehead against yours.

"I've missed you so much. I've missed your face, your touch, your voice, your kisses, everything, I've missed it all" He whispered.

"I've missed you too, baby, so much" You whispered back. Joshua started kissing your neck. You relaxed under his kisses.

"Missed. Kissing. This. Beautiful. Skin" He spoke between every kiss. He suddenly pulled your shirt off and his as well. Joshua went back to kissing your skin, this time adding hickeys to the mix.

"Mm baby" You whimpered softly. His hands moved to your back and unclasped your bra. Joshua threw the bra onto the floor.

"Missed these beautiful tits so much" Joshua cupped your breasts and started squeezing them. He started pinching your nipples roughly, making you gasp.

"Uuh Joshua" You whined. Joshua smirked at your reaction.

"Mm, you like that, darling?" He kissed your neck again while rolling your nipples in his fingers.

"Mmm" That's all you could respond with. He removed one of his hands from your boob and quickly replaced it with his mouth. Joshua started sucking on your boob and biting your nipple.

"Ooooh" You groaned while your hand combed through his hair. Joshua's free hand traveled down your body and went under your skirt and started rubbing your clothed clit. He looked up at you to see your reaction to the sudden pleasure.

"Uuuh" You groaned as you threw your head against the wall as your eyes were closed. Joshua pulled his mouth off your boob.

"Feel good?" He asked before sucking on your other boob.

His hand moved off your clit and went back to teasing your nipples. When he was done making your boobs extra sensitive. He pulled his mouth off your tits and onto your mouth. Joshua started making out with you. He bit down on your bottom lip making you gasp and gave him access to insert his tongue into your mouth. Your tongues fought for dominance. You suddenly broke the steamy session. You walked away from him and walked over to the bed. You pulled your skirt and panties off, leaving them on the floor. You sat on the edge of the bed and spread your legs for him.

"Someone else misses you" You smirked.

"Oh, I've missed her too" Joshua groans, his cock straining against his pants at the sight in front of him.

He quickly crawls between your legs, his mouth immediately going to your pussy. He sucks on your clit, swirling his tongue around it before plunging his tongue inside you. Your hand gripped his hair roughly. He moans, the vibrations echoing around your clit as he sucks on it harder. His tongue flicks back and forth over the bundle of nerves as he reaches a hand up to your breasts, squeezing and pinching your nipples between his fingers.

"Ahh" You moaned softly.

Joshua looked up at you and smirked. He holds you in place as he feasts on you, his tongue delving deeper into your pussy as he eats you out with a newfound fervor. Your head thrown back in pleasure. His fingers move to your entrance, slowly sliding inside as he sucks on your clit, pumping his fingers in and out in time with his tongue. He moans against your cunt, as you grip his hair rougher, he's loving the feeling of your rough grip on his hair. His fingers curl inside of you, hitting that spot that makes you squirm. He wanted nothing more than to see you unravel. You came hard around his fingers and mouth. He groans in satisfaction as you come undone. He keeps sucking on your clit, his fingers moving inside of you as he milks every last wave of pleasure from your body.

"Fuck, love" Joshua groaned as he licked you clean. He slowly withdrawing his fingers from your pussy. He brings them to your lips and presses them to your mouth, watching as you suck your juices from his fingers.

"You taste amazing, love" Joshua pulls his fingers out of your mouth, and he kisses you deeply, his tongue delving into your mouth as he tastes yourself on his lips.

His hand moves to your breast, tweaking and pinching at your nipple as he continues to kiss you passionately. You moaned softly in his mouth. Your hand moved down his body and pulled his sweatpants and underwear off. You started stroking his cock as you two make out. He grins into the kiss, his hips bucking into your grasp as you stroke him. He reaches down and his fingers slipping between your lower lips once again as he starts to rub your clit again. You moaned into his mouth. He moans into the kiss as well, his hips bucking harder against your hand as you stroke him faster. He rubs your clit harder, desperate for you to come again. You broke the kiss and grabbed his hand on your clit. He gasps softly as you grab his hand, his cock throbbing in your grasp. He watches as you move his hand down, guiding his fingers back to your pussy. He watches your face as you lean back and grind against his fingers, his own hips continuing to grind into your hand as you stroke him.

"That's it, love..." Joshua smiled as he added a third finger into your hole.

"Ah- Ahh" You moaned loudly. He smirks as he adds another finger, stretching you open further as he slides them in and out, curling them just right to hit your g-spot.

"Do you like that, love?" Joshua watched the moans release from your chest.

"So.. much" You moaned. He grins and leans down, pressing his lips to your neck and sucking hungrily.

"I'm glad, love. But I want to fuck you. I want to fuck you so bad right now" He whispers hotly in your ear before biting your neck gently. You rolled over and laid on the bed with your ass in the air. His smirk turns into a grin as he pulls his hand back before bringing it down against your ass with a loud smack. He watches the skin turn pink before doing it again, this time a little harder.

"I plan on making you scream. I can't wait to fuck you..." He rubs your ass before spanking it again.

"Fuck me" You whined. He grips your hips tighter as he lines himself up and thrusts into you hard, almost punishingly so. You gripped the bed sheets as he fucked you mercilessly.

"Joshua!" You moaned loudly. He grins and spanks your ass again as he continues to fuck you hard and squeezing your ass.

"Say my name again, love. Louder..." Joshua demanded.

"Fuck... Joshua!" You cried.

"Fuck yes, let me hear you scream it!" He spanks your ass again and reaches under you, rubbing your clit roughly as he keeps fucking you hard and fast. His name kept falling off your lips.

"Don't stop!" You begged. He grunts, his thrusts becoming erratic as he feels himself getting close to cumming.

"Don't worry... I won't stop until you're begging me to.." He pinches your clit and rubs circles around it, making you moan louder. He smiles at you before gripping your hips tighter and thrusting harder.

"Cum for me. Now..." He slaps your ass again, marking you with a bright red hand print as he keeps thrusting hard. You came so hard your eyes rolled back. He groans as he feels you tighten around his cock, the sensation of your pussy contracting around him sending him over the edge. He pulls out and cum on your ass with a loud grunt, gasping for breath.

"Fuck... fucking perfect..." Joshua groans. You laid on your stomach as you were panting. He grins and lays down beside you, pulling you close and kissing your forehead.

"I love you, Y/N..." He whispered.

"I love you... too" You mumbled. He smiles and kisses your lips gently.

"I love you more than anything in this world... thank you for loving me back." He holds you close, caressing your back gently as he lays down with you, enjoying the silence and peace of resting together after a wild session of passion. Joshua gets up from the bed and goes to the bathroom, and comes back with a wash cloth. He smiles at you and wiped the sweat and cum off your body with the warm wash cloth, cleaning you up gently, being careful to not hurt you after the rough love session.

"There we go... got you all cleaned up." Joshua smiles and gets in bed, pulling you into his arms. He cuddles you close to him, enjoying the calmness and the sensation of having you in his arms.

"My love" He whispers softly and kisses your shoulder. He kisses your shoulder again, this time trailing soft kisses up your neck

"So precious" He whispered again. You snuggled closer to him.

"Go to sleep, love" Joshua kisses your forehead. He lays there with you, his fingers tracing gentle little circles on your back as he closes his eyes and drifts off to sleep.

[0bticeo]

jonathan sims | get some rest (tomorrow is already here)

summary:

“what do you propose?”

you take in a sharp inhale. you should leave. drag him away from his desk. but jonathan sims is a stubborn man, so he must be coaxed into doing so. 

“a massage.”

"a what?"

wc: 2.5k

tw: massage, making out, reader being a horny mess, jon being exhausted and a cranky bastard, hinted at elias' voyeuristic tendencies, usual tma ominous feelings, fluff (shocking, i know)

the analog clock reads 3:27, stark red embedded upon your retina. you sigh, fingers rubbing at the back of your neck as you step into the archives, weary bones aching.

it’s not your fault if you fell asleep in a secluded corner of the archives departement, squeezed between two shelves and piles upon piles of unlabeled statements. scratch that: they’re labeled. chronologically.

they do not make sense, however, because jonathan sims’ predecessor - whose name you curse with every breath and sleepless night you spend organizing her damn mess - left the whole department in such a state of disarray you might spend the rest of your life making sense of it. damn her. and damn your boss for being so uptight about it all.

you feel the weight of the institute, a looming force of knowledge pressed at the back of your neck, sweet pinprick of pain. you’re watched. oh, orwell, how right you were.

you make your way towards your desk, stepping over sasha’s pink slippers and picking up an empty mug. grab your keys, get out, and walk home. you’re not too far away from the institute. no trouble.

as you lean forward, palm pressed flat against a manila file, something catches your eye.

light. 

thin rays of it crawl, seep out from under the wooden door of the head archivist’s office, stark golden in dull gray penumbra.

he’s there, jonathan sims, head archivist of the magnus institute. holed up in his office, recording a statement, voice poised and measured and controlled in every way he isn’t upon being confronted with his poor sleeping schedule. 

you should leave.

you hear the soft click of a tape recorder being stopped. a long, deep-suffering sigh. a drawer opening, more muttering, some shuffling, rustling papers - oh no he won’t.

in three decisive steps, you’re before his door, your sharp knocking rinnging like gunfire in the quiet of the office. 

“who-who’s there?”

unease. suspicion.

you’re quick to answer with a long suffering sigh of your own, forehead pressed against the door.

“it’s me, jon.”

a pause. an exasperated sigh.

“what do you want?"

you take it as your cue to step inside his office, dimly lit by a lone desk lamp, dust particles turning midas-gold under its rays. your foot catches on a discarded paper - another statement, this one regarding a gambling fool of a soldier. 

(he who tries to cheat death gets the fruit of his labor and weeps upon tasting it.)

you pick it up, and let your gaze roam about the place.

a cork board takes up the majority of a wall, red strings twisting and turning in a web of confusion.

bookshelves align themselves in neat rows, cramped against one another, overflowing with statements, indigestions of facts made up and real.

a cluttered desk - a switched off tape recorder, manila folders, an open computer casting its blue glow upon the sharp edge of jon’s face.

he’s glaring at you.

“have you grown deaf since the last time i saw you?”

you let out an amused breath and make a move to put the statement on his desk. finding an uncluttered space is harder than it proves to be.

jon all but snatches the damn paper from your grip. if looks could kill, you’d be in bad shape. you lean back, arms crossed over your chest, hip pressed against the edge of his desk.

“no, merely mute with shock upon your wretched appearance.” you smile, teasing edges fading into concern. “seriously, when was the last time you slept?”

“that does not concern you-”

“it does, actually. you’re my boss. i can’t let you waste away, who would pay me otherwise?”

“elias pays all of us-”

“and he probably would have me promoted as a glorified secretary if you were to overwork yourself to death. i hate accountance, jon.”

he pinches his nose with long, deft fingers, glasses riding up ever so slightly. they reveal the deep circles under his eyes, embedded in his olive skin. you can practically see the tension oozing from him, the knots in his shoulders.

“if you’re determined to waste my time-”

“i came to help, actually.”

he raises a quizzical eyebrow, the living embodiment of judgment.

you feel his gaze rake your form, the own dark circles under your eyes, the crumpled shirt, the dust that clings to your skirt, what he’s sure is the imprint of the shelf you fell asleep against on your cheek.

you raise your hands in mock surrender. (you miss the way his gaze softens a little.)

“you’re exhausted. hell, i can feel your nervous energy from here.”

he opens his mouth, frowning, protest ready on his tongue. you cut him, merciless.

“when was the last time you’ve gotten more than three hours of sleep?”

that shuts him up. his frown deepens. you want to smooth out the wrinkles on his forehead.

“that - look, if you have nothing better to do than pester me-”

“it’s three in the morning and we’re the only living souls in this institute.”

maybe. you don’t really want to know what lies in the tunnels. or in the artifact storage. or what’s watching you.

“you’re not going to sleep at all at this rate - no, i know you’re not, because i know you. kinda.”

he sighs, exhaustion crawling out of his very marrow, and leans back in his chair. you take in the wrinkles in his shirt, now exposed because lo and behold, jonathan sims’ jacket is not sewn to his body and - 

and he’s loosening his tie, two fingers digging in his windsor knot, smooth silk gliding away under skilled fingers. you wonder what they might feel like slipping under your shirt.

“what do you propose?”

you take in a sharp inhale. you should leave. drag him away from his desk and into bed. but jonathan sims is the living embodiment of stubborness, so he must be coaxed into doing so.

“a massage.”

“a- a what?”

you laugh a little.

“don’t pretend your neck isn’t stiffer than the stick up your ass.”

“i do not have-”

“jon, please let me help.”

silence. again, he pinches the bridge of his nose. at least, he’s considering it.

you eye the piles of statements on his desk, half-discarded, half-classified. there’s a pattern in the way jon operates, even if he’s not conscious of it.

he only ever calls for your help when he’s sure the statements at hand are lelgitimate. this means he rules out those he deems written by lunatics and madmen. this means he does most of the work. this means-

“all right. but under one condition."

you tilt your head to the side, curious.

“one last statement.”

“only if i massage you while you record it.”

a glare.

“we’re wasting time, jon.”

“fine. get over here.”

you smile, palms smoothing out the pleats of your skirt as you make your way behind his desk.

he pays you no mind, long fingers selecting a manila file from a pile, opening it with care. there’s a certain stiff grace with which he carries himself, you muse as you step behind him. 

you watch the ripples of tension in the back of his neck, the fine strands of auburn hair tainted penumbra-dark brushing against his nape, and gently run your knuckle against his skin. he’s warm.

“whenever you’re ready,” you breathe, fingers resting on the back of his chair.

he coughs a little. composes himself. hits record.

“continued statement of trevor herbert regarding their latter years as a vampire hunter. original statement given july 10th 2010, audio recording by jonathan sims, head archivist of the magnus institute.”

you watch with fascination as the calm, composed, formal voice slips into something… else. something between jonathan sims and trevor herbert, and it’s fascinating, because for a brief second, split second instant of Knowing, you can See him, the tramp and his collapsing lungs, writing away his youth and hunts on bland institute paper.

you blink and it’s gone. 

there’s only you, the “lofi charm” of the tape recorder, and jon. his nape is bare. intimate knowledge settles in your mind, the fragility of mortality. bury a sharp needle there and his body collapses. 

you frown. push it back. roll up your sleeves and rub your hands together, warming them up because they’re always cold, and the least you can do is give him a modicum of comfort.

slowly, carefully, you put your hands over his shoulders. he tenses at that, briefly, until you start rubbing away the years of tension gnawing at him.

slowly, surely, you knead poor, exhausted muscles. slowly, surely, he relaxes under your touch, head leaning back ever so slightly.

from this close, you can smell him, you realize. cold coffee, dusty paper, cedarwood aftershave and something like a hint of sweat. 

“good?” you whisper, almost silent, voice lost in the quiet static of the tape recorder, in the dust-soft penumbra.

he nods, cheek brushing your wrist. your heart hammers in your chest. a strand of hair brushes the back of your hand - they’re graying a little. you wonder why he exhausts himself so. why he spends nights buried in his office, burrowing himself in piles and piles of files. 

hypocrite.

the only reason as to why you’re here, massaging your fucking boss and growing desperately wet at his deep sighs of content, is because you, too, spend much more time than reasonable trying to make sense of it all. 

the only reason as to why you’re here, taking in the gentle mess that is jonathan sims, is because you both leave at ungodly hours. because he can keep his eyes on you and so he knows that you cannot be responsible for gertrude’s murder.

you think he might trust you.

his hand settles over yours, and you startle.

he’s warm, palm large enough to cover the entirety of your hand, from wrist to fingertips. you don’t know what to do with this knowledge.

you don’t want to think of what you might do in the quiet death of the night, your hand slipping under your covers, down the apex of your thigh-

he slides your hand lower. oh. oh. 

you lean forward, until your cheek brushes his, skin on skin, and unbutton the first two buttons of his shirt. you think he might be leaning into your touch. you think you might cut yourself on the edge of his jaw, on the sharpness of his words. 

your hands meet his bare skin and you feel like you’ve caught fire, breath stolen away as you feel him in a way the cotton of his shirt didn’t allow. there is a sharpness to him. you can feel his jutting clavicles under your fingertips, sharp angel wings of bone, and your heart tightens. 

he works too much.

it’s quiet, for a while.

you don’t know what sets it off. one moment, you’re massaging him, relishing in the feeling of his skin under your hands. the next, your fingers catch a particularly tight spot in his shoulders and he groans , and fuck, you should not feel familiar heat curling in your lower belly but you do. 

you should stop. bid him good night and leave him with his precious recording. 

you don’t. 

instead, you rub at that spot, tentatively, and watch as he bites his lip mid-sentence, voice catching on a word. he’s a little breathless.

you are, too, heart hammering in your ribcage, hummingbird trying to flee its bones.

his hand wraps around your wrist and tugs you forward, free hand settling on your lower back, guiding you until you’re in his lap, looking up at him.

you think you might be dying of a heart attack with the way he looks at you, with eyes so dark you can barely make out the beautiful green of them.

“just what do you think you’re doing?” he growls.

you feel like you're on fire with how close you are. how his hand still encases your wrist in an iron hold. how you can feel warmth of him. how you can see the fluttering pulse of his throat, adam apple bobbing up and down as he swallows and fuck you want to take a bite.

your mouth feels dry.

“i- i don’t-” 

his grip tightens on your wrist. 

“answer me.”

somehow you’re closer. close enough to feel his breath on your lips, to find yourself staring up at him through hooded eyes, to find him staring back with parted lips. 

whatever’s left of your resolve dissolves into a puddle of desire. 

“jon, please, let me kiss you.”

a pause. the faintest glint of disbelief in his eyes.

then his lips crash on yours. 

you startle, hand shooting forward to grasp the nearest thing for purchase and find only him, him and the crisp cotton of his shirt, all exhaustion and boiling frustration.

he puts his mouth to you like one would to a lover’s and kisses you slowly, deeply, unraveling you like a beloved mystery. 

your body sings for him, and it’s so right you dismiss the ever-present pinprick pressure at the back of your neck. 

his palm cups it, your nape, warmth consuming that pinprick pain, until the only thing you can do is sigh in his mouth and press yourself closer.

his lips part from yours, briefly, a breath away, and it’s too damn far, so you tug at his cravat and pull him down. your fingers dig in his shirt, his hair, and he groans at the way your nails rake his scalp.

your lips part for him in a soft, whisper-quiet moan of his name, and he swallows it down almost greedily. you feel his tongue brush against yours and let out a low, needy sound, molten desire coursing through your veins.

his hand slips under your shirt, reaches for the soft skin of your side and presses up, up, up until it meets your breast and his thumb presses against your nipple in tight circles and you’re almost sobbing against his lips. 

you’re not aware that your hips are grinding against the hardness of him until his hand settles on your hip, slowing you down to a stop, and you part from him, breathless, and so, so needy.

there’s a thread of saliva between you, thin little spider-web intertwining your fates.

he looks at you, disheveled, glasses slightly askew, their lenses foggy, shirt half-opened for your gaze to meet tantalizing skin. a feast for the sore eyes.

“you might want to make me breakfast instead.”

“not like this,” he mumbles, thumb swiping against your bottom lip. “not- at least, let me treat you to dinner first.”

he chuckles at that, a little breathless, a little exasperated, definitely fond.

“cheeky.”

you peck his lip, sweetly. his hand tightens over your hip.

“look at the time, jon.” 

he rides up his sleeve ever so slightly to reveal his watch and with it, the tantalizing softness of his pulse, beating wildly against the tender skin of his inner wrist. almost four in the morning. you press your lips there, feel the yearning of his beating heart. 

he doesn’t think he’s seen you this beautiful. you, disheveled, on his lap, almost chest to chest with him, bringing his palm to your cheek and pressing fluttering kisses to his fingers. you, smiling up at him, exhausted, worn to the bone, but happy, and -

“oh.”

“what is it?”

your gaze lands on the tape recorder. oh.

“still recording. i should -”

“go home, get some sleep and finish what you started - me included - later.”

he sighs. there’s still a smile on his lips, exhaustion melting down to affection. 

"fine. end recording.”

[dogbunni]

shut up. saiki k tumblrverse

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🍤shrimptextures reblogged

😊justnormalguythings Follow

#I LOOKED IT UP AND 69% IS THE AVERAGE SCORE IM SO MAD

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💟yuri2k reblogged

🗿nenjoriki Follow

ii. Jsshj; nsjsks)hæj

💟yuri2k

go off king!!!

#nendo did u fall asleep scrolling tumblr again #<- last time he did that he reblogged the same post 27 times in a row <3 #one time he fell asleep scrolling tiktok and posted a clip of him snoring lmfaoooooooo #real life #not aesthetic #sorry y2k babes i'll reblog some cunty lil jpegs rn #i just have to clown on my irls i kno u all understand💅

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💟yuri2k reblogged

😻chiyobangs Follow

rah rah fax machine

📿th3pu55yd35tr0y3r

aha i didnt know u were freakay like that 🫦

💟yuri2k

SHE MEANS LIKE THE HAIRCUT. BANGS!!!!!! LIKE THE HAIR ON UR HEAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! U DIPSHIT!!!!!!! KILLS U WITH MY EYES 💣💣💣

#stop being a pervert challenge: impossible #also omg chiyopipi!! i didn't know u had a blog #hiiiiiiiiiii 💗💘✨🍰🌸💐💖🥰🌷🌺🍒🍡👛🩷🍧🧋🔮🦄🌟🪷💗💫⭐ #dont listen to him he was cursed w no rizz

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📿th3pu55yd35tr0y3r reblogged

😻chiyobangs Follow

rah rah fax machine

📿th3pu55yd35tr0y3r

aha i didnt know u were freakay like that 🫦

#girl i'll fax on ur machine til u rah

6 notes

😐tanaka489

what the fuck is human pet guy

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🍤shrimptextures

fukc it.i ccant stop thinking abt that one blog. normalguy. do u think he jnows abt human pet guy

#maybei am hsving a bental makebown

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💸thericherelonmusk reblogged fivefingerdiscount

🗿nenjoriki Follow

chair -> 💺

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💟yuri2k reblogged

🎤urinarytractinjection Follow

toumatome -> urinarytractinjection

Fear not friends, for I have only changed my URL. I remain the same [FULL LEGAL NAME REDACTED FOR INTERNET PRIVACY AND SAFETY REASONS, AS ALL TUMBLR USERS SHOULD DO, IN CASE OF DOXXING, PHISHING, BLACKMAILING, CYBERBULLYING, STALKING, ETC. CRIMES IN WHICH YOUR INDENTITY COULD BE DISCOVERED AND USED AGAINST YOU] that you have all known and come to love. For reasons undisclosed I will not be taking suggestions or criticism re. my new URL at this time. As always my ask box remains open (anon is always on, anonymous yappers- I desire you carnally) I will begin answering some of the backlog shortly ÒvÓ

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💟yuri2k

WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS URL

#SAY SIKE RN

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😊justnormalguythings Follow because you follow #normcore

#normalcore #normal #oranges #normcore #justnormalguythings

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☠️abysslblkflmedrgn Follow

‼️⚠️HELP⚠️‼️

do3s 4ny1 kno a GOOD 4rtist who tak3s oc commissionz??? i w4nt 4rt of my orv oc plzzzzzzzzz

💟yuri2k

i think @merartist is taking comms!!

#get that bag girl!! #not aesthetic #real life

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☠️abysslblkflmedrgn Follow

my oc cld probz take yjh in a 1v1

🏍️underagegunshot Follow

what if i killed you dead

☠️abysslblkflmedrgn Follow

What the fuck did you just fucking say about me, you little bitch? I'll have you know I graduated top of my class in the Navy Seals, and I've been involved in numerous secret raids on Al-Quaeda, and I have over 300 confirmed kills. I am trained in gorilla warfare and I'm the top sniper in the entire US armed forces. You are nothing to me but just another target. I will wipe you the fuck out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this Earth, mark my fucking words. You think you can get away with saying that shit to me over the Internet? Think again, fucker. As we speak I am contacting my secret network of spies across the USA and your IP is being traced right now so you better prepare for the storm, maggot. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your life. You're fucking dead, kid. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can kill you in over seven hundred ways, and that's just with my bare hands. Not only am I extensively trained in unarmed combat, but I have access to the entire arsenal of the United States Marine Corps and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable ass off the face of the continent, you little shit. If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little "clever" comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your fucking tongue. But you couldn't, you didn't, and now you're paying the price, you goddamn idiot. I will shit fury all over you and you will drown in it. You're fucking dead, kiddo.

🏍️underagegunshot Follow

L copypasta

🐉dragons-locator Follow

What the fuck did you just fucking say about me, you little bitch? I'll have you know I graduated top of my class in the Navy Seals, and I've been involved in numerous secret raids on Al-Quaeda, and I have over 300 confirmed kills. I am trained in gorilla warfare and I'm the top sniper in the entire US armed forces. You are nothing to me but just another target. I will wipe you the fuck out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this Earth, mark my fucking words. You think you can get away with saying that shit to me over the Internet? Think again, fucker. As we speak I am contacting my secret network of spies across the USA and your IP is being traced right now so you better prepare for the storm, maggot. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your life. You're fucking dead, kid. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can kill you in over seven hundred ways, and that's just with my bare hands. Not only am I extensively trained in unarmed combat, but I have access to the entire arsenal of the United States Marine Corps and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable ass off the face of the continent, you little shit. If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little "clever" comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your fucking tongue. But you couldn't, you didn't, and now you're paying the price, you goddamn idiot. I will shit fury all over you and you will drown in it. You're fucking dead, kiddo.

dragons

DRAGONS LOCATED

#once again thinking about how much money I could make if I had Father copyright this copypasta #follow for more unethical capital gains pro tips #also I don't go here but ORV fandom seems uncouth and rabid #when I buy tumblr I'm banning these two specifically

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💟yuri2k

🎀dump him moodboard🎀

for anon <3

#omg an actual y2k post who is she!! #this ones for the girlies #kiss me instead #<- who said that #y2k #y2k aesthetic #y2kcore #y2k moodboard

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🍤shrimptextures

I AM NOT HAVING A FUCKING BREAKDOWN

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💟yuri2k reblogged

🌸perfectprettyplease

.

💟yuri2k

dm me babe 💕

#real life #not aesthetic

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🌸perfectprettyplease

.

#oomf is having a breakdown about a random blog?? #idk it's just a normal blog #they make relatable captions with stock images #worried about oomf :( #what do i do? #how do i reach out without sounding rude </3 #i just think someone should check on them #pppposts

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🍤shrimptextures

ORANGES?????????????? FUCKING ORANGES?????

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📿th3pu55yd35tr0y3r

SAIKI??????!?!??

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Hi

📿th3pu55yd35tr0y3r

Hi

💟yuri2k

hi!!!

🎤urinarytractinjection Follow

Hello fellow tumblr user and real life acquaintance :3

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Hi!

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Hi

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hi

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💸thericherelonmusk

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😐tanaka489

Hi

Hi

[malk1ns]

november 16 2024 vs sharks, 4-3 S/O win

previous soulbond installments: 1 2 3 4 5 6

hot damn. double hot damn. TRIPLE hot damn. and of course geno's unbelievable goal that got called back. hey guys, thanks for showing up!

this is approximately the quarter-mark for this season, and with this installment the series is at 24,097 words. dang. thanks to everyone who's been reading along, leaving nice tags and comments, etc—i am not sure i'd be able to do this if it weren't for the encouragement!

Sid spends the entire Sharks game having to consciously stop himself from putting his hand to his chest.

Something shifted last night, clicked into place when he and Geno met eyes in the locker room after losing to the Blue Jackets. He’d woke up that night from a dead sleep gasping for air and fumbling for his phone, convinced he was having a cardiac event—but instead of his own heart beating double-time, once he was more awake he realized it was Geno’s heartbeat he was feeling too, thumping along just slightly offset from his own.

He’d texted Geno instead of the training staff, asking if he was OK. Geno sent him the thumbs up emoji, and then Sid watched the typing bubbles appeared and disappeared for almost three minutes before Geno apparently settled on just 💕.

Sid stared at the two little pink hearts for a long time before like-reacting and locking his phone.

It took a while to fall back asleep. He did the deep-breathing exercises that meditation app Andy made him download a few years ago recommended for nighttime, and his own heartbeat slowed, but Geno’s was out of sync—until Sid felt something at the back of his mind, an almost apologetic oh-shit.

Sid could feel when Geno started to regulate his own breathing, and his heartbeat settling into time with Sid’s sent such a powerful sense of relief through him that he practically fell asleep on the spot. They’re not quite lined up, not with Sid’s abnormally low resting heart rate, but they beat in time, a soothing percussive thump that puts Sid out like a light.

It had been an odd sensation all day as Sid went through his pre-game routine, sort of like when he’d lost teeth in the past and not immediately gotten them replaced—but instead of a constant simmering awareness of an absence, Sid couldn’t quite escape the feeling of more. He felt too big for his skin, too aware of what’s going on somewhere he’s not.

Once they both get to the rink it settles, and Geno looks visibly relieved to see Sid too.

Outside of their midnight text exchange, they haven’t spoken. Sid can feel it though, the conversation barreling towards them itching at his teeth.

During the game, Geno’s heart spikes at the oddest times. Rarely if ever when he’s skating, which had surprised Sid; on the ice he’s ice-cold unless someone on the other team is pissing him off. But on the bench, when Geno’s watching, he gets just as involved as some of the fans, jumping to his feet when it looks like someone’s going to score, shouting encouragement at the guys and recriminations at whatever Shark that skates close enough to be targeted.

It takes Sid by surprise, especially when he’s out for a shift, and he barely got his hand halfway to his chest the first time before he realized what him clutching his chest would look like and forced it back to his lap.

It doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t even feel all that wrong anymore, now that Sid’s had almost a whole day to get used to it.

It feels like something he wants to cradle, to touch to see if he can feel it as clearly through his skin as he can inside his body. He wants to strip down at intermission and look down to see if he can see Geno’s heart beating next to his own.

Sid scores, and the pride that sweeps through him is absolutely not his own.

The reaction his shootout goal gets is maybe something Sid should have expected, especially after yesterday, but it still trips him up a little on his way back to the bench. He peers down the row at Geno, who’s staring fixedly at his skates. His ears are red.

When Geno dekes out the goalie and pings an absolutely sick shot off the post and in, Sid has to work to keep his face neutral with the camera right on him. By the way Geno looks at him as he makes his way down the fistbump line, he’s not sure how good of a job he does.

Geno’s done with his shower and gone fast, like always, but Sid knows he hasn’t left, and when he’s finally free from media and his own postgame routine, instinct pulls him to a corridor down near the visitor’s locker rooms, one that nobody ever goes down because the rooms are all overflow storage.

Geno’s waiting for him in a room halfway down the hallway, and Sid beelines for the door, stepping into the room and firmly shutting the door before taking a deep breath and turning around.

It’s not even a storage room. Geno managed to find possibly the only office in the entire rink that Kyle and his staff hasn’t taken over; Sid wonders if anyone even knows it’s here.

Geno’s leaning against the desk, drumming his fingers against the wood. Before Sid fully registers what he’s doing, he’s stepping forward, wedging himself between Geno’s legs and pressing them together.

When Geno’s arms come around his back, Sid exhales fully for the first time in almost two weeks.

“Sid,” Geno says, and his voice sounds…

Sid closes his eyes.

He doesn’t know what to do with this. He’s never felt this way about anyone before, certainly not another man. The bond specialists didn’t say anything about this all-consuming need he and Geno have been doing their best to deny, and Sid hasn’t breathed a word of it to anyone.

He’s not sure if it was fear of what people would say or a fierce, instinctive need to keep it private that stopped him from asking. Probably a combination of both.

Geno’s arms tighten around him, and Sid takes an unsteady breath. His whole body feels hot, and when Geno’s hands slide down and his fingers brush over the sliver of exposed skin above Sid’s sweatpants, Sid can’t stop the groan that sounds shockingly loud in the quiet room.

“Fuck,” Geno says, voice shaky. “Sid, what…”

“I don’t know,” Sid says. Geno’s hand feels like a brand on his skin. “Shit, you’re…” He gropes down Geno’s back and slides his hands under Geno’s shirt, and when Geno shivers under his touch Sid digs his fingers in. 

When Geno shifts his hips, Sid can feel his dick hard in his pants brushing against Sid’s stomach. He should be nervous, maybe, or even concerned, but instead he’s more turned on than he’s ever been in his life, his and Geno’s arousal ricocheting back and forth over the bond until Sid’s panting into Geno’s shoulder and hitching himself against Geno’s body, desperate for friction.

Geno’s breath is harsh in Sid’s ear. He’s clumsy as he humps against Sid’s thigh. It doesn’t feel good for either of them, not really—too much friction with the fabric, bad angles, nothing that would be enough to get either of them off normally—but they’re feeding off each other now, and Sid can feel his orgasm coming shockingly fast.

Sid didn’t think that after 20 years there was much more new he had to learn about Geno. Now he knows that Geno’s loud when he comes.

[jilyawards]

The Jily Fandom Rec List 2024 is a compilation of Jily stories our readers want to keep an eye on for this year's awards.

AUGUST

A Matter of Fairness (completed, 3.9k) by @yallthemwitches. Rated E.

James' Quidditch match is derailed by a very distracting Head Girl.

stitch the wound (completed, 15.7k) by @loverscrossmp3. Rated T.

moments on a battlefield and in a home. there are only so many things you can do when in hiding before you begin remembering.

101 Padfoots (completed, 4k) by @tedwardremus. Rated G.

An accident in potions class results in 101 Padfoots running around Hogwarts while Lily and James work together to round them all up

swimming through sick lullabies (completed, 4.7k) by @gigglesandfreckles-hp. Rated T.

“So, I’ve got a question,” James says, leaning forward slightly. Lily nods without looking at him, busying herself with wiping the puddle of water from the condensation of the glass. “If you were meeting Kallus for a date, why’d you bring a book?” She looks up sharply, her cheeks flushing a soft pink. “What?” He smirks, letting his eyes flicker down toward the book in emphasis. “Were you anticipating a rubbish date?”

the dance of mischief and duty (completed, 3.5k) by @gigglesandfreckles-hp. Rated T.

Lily Evans is an infuriating mosaic of traits—beautiful and she knows it, captain of the House Quidditch team, and the loudest voice in nearly any room. She has this way of floating through the school, her laughter ringing out as she moves between corridors and classes, one arm usually slung around Sirius Black’s shoulder and the other gesticulating wildly as she spins tales of misadventure. But she also sort of has a point, and that’s possibly the most infuriating part about her.

the road to reunification is not so smooth (WIP, 10.2k as of 31 August 2024) by wisterial. Rated T.

Other than her persistent guilt and loneliness, Lily Evans is doing perfectly okay. That is, until her friends give her phone number to James Potter, an old schoolmate she would very much like to avoid. If that wasn't enough of a problem, Lily meets a boy in the local library, who appears just as lonely as her, and she begins to realize that he may be the son she gave up for adoption eight years ago. Or: The story of how Lily, James, and Harry reunite, and eventually learn how to be a family (with the help of time, their friends, and a lot of ice cream).

bad day wall (WIP, 14.8k as of 31 August 2024) by apalapucian. Rated M.

lily calls it the bad day wall. it's like this weird communal one-liner diary thing. every time i think i'm over her something happens and it hits me just as stupidly intense as all the other times. i'm SICK of it why can't people just LIKE by default the people they LOVE? why do they have to be separate feelings? it would make things so much less complicated or: in sixth year, lily starts talking to a stranger(?) through messages on a wall. she also befriends james potter. these two things are completely not related.

Guilty as Sin (WIP, 56.7k as of 31 August 2024) by ohevans. Rated E.

This is not sustainable. He cannot keep being so god damn perfect or it’s going to ruin her. It sort of already has, really. Lily Evans is a practical young woman, and having sex dreams about one’s best friend that leave one waking up hot and bothered at 3:32 in the morning is decidedly impractical. Especially when said friend—self-proclaimed early bird—started Mamma Mia! together over facetime at half-past eleven solely because she said she couldn’t sleep, even though he likes to get up early and go on long runs before work. And then she went and fell asleep mid-lyric to Dancing Queen and he sent her a string of text messages and stayed awake long enough to finish the movie, all the while she was passed out on the couch dreaming of his face between her thighs. Again. For the third night in a row. (It would be the eighth, but there was one night she had a stress dream about missing her Eighteenth Century Women’s Lit exam.) This is not sustainable.

Check out the previous months' recs too: January, February, March || April || May || June || July

And don't forget to check out the Jily Week 2024 masterlist!

[2kverrr]

MATT TAYLOR - Dating Headcanons

UNTIL DAWN || Matt Taylor x Reader

like every other year, the washington family open up their lodge to their teenagers for the winter. everybody had been waiting for this time of year, booze all week long, no rules, only friends, snowfights, blasting music in the middle of nowhere - to put it shortly, it's haven.

big movie nights on the big projector with hot chocolates and lots and lots of booze

you and matt had been plotting activities since summer, dodgeball in the main living area - come on, it's massive. what else are you meant to do in a room that big?

sledding - even if it meant falling off the edge of a cliff, its all apart of the fun.

matt loved making plans with you, you've never been too sure why, because you're not very punctual, you're an extremely dangerous driver and quite forgetful.

he's an attractive guy, sporty and in shape, really kind; it was a mystery to you why he was still single. it's not like girls actually go for brains anymore - you don't think so anyway.

secretly the group were rooting for the two of you, you oblivious of course, but matt had planned this all out, all fun and games but then you 'accidentally' trip or 'accidentally' fall and in desperate need of a knight in shining armour, then that's where he comes in, heroic and masculine, you are immediately in love with him, you get married, move to fiji and have 4 kids (the first of the bunch HAD to be called matt. jr). it's pretty specific.

it's the day of the winter break we'd all been waiting for, mike had already prepped matt for this big breakthrough. mike slaps his hand onto his face and slowly drags it drown with a grown, "bro, stop being such a pussy - worst she can say is no. no?" the two continue to stroll towards the lodge, slightly unsure where they were headed in the snowy atmosphere. “yeah, i get that,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper, “but what if she laughs at me?” the thought made his stomach twist uneasily, and he shot mike a frantic glance. you knew matt's used to being the object of jealousy, he's much like mike in that sense, he doesn't have to do much to be adored by people. “dude, she’s not some goddess in a tower,” mike said, rolling his eyes. “she's just a girl! think about it. you’ve spent half your life being friends, spilling deepest and darkest secrets, spending the majority of your time together - hell even your distant family have nicknames for him. "god damn it man! you know her better than anyone, so you should be first to know how she'd react.” matt shoved his hands into his pockets, trying to portray an air of confidence he didn’t truly feel. “just be yourself. you’ve got this.” he whispers, spotting you exiting from the ski lift, patting matt on the shoulder and leaving him with you.

the walk up was oddly awkward, in fact the first 3 days were uncomfortable with the curly-headed boy.

of course, that did not stop you from getting black out drunk every night. day drinking faded into beer pong, then faded into shot competitions, then another cheeky drink when you woke up to prevent any hangover.

matt tried his hardest to get you to lay off the drink, but automatically josh would interrupt and tempt you even more.

it had to be past midnight at this rate, ashley fell asleep on the couch with chris, beth gently placing a blanket over the two of them. sam was attempting to defuse a row between mike and emily as hannah observed hopefully, while josh was falling asleep mid-conversation with jess - embarrassing. all while you were basically fighting matt to grab the bottle out of his hands. “give!” you reach out, but just like every other time, matts long arms push at your shoulder to keep your distance. you huff, stumbling back with half closed eyes, “cocksucker. i’ll find something else. hell - i’d eat crack if josh had any.” you remark with flailing arms. you had promised yourself a good time, a good time that didn’t involve battling your best friend for a taste of liquor. "come on, how about we go find the biggest bed for you to sleep in, i'm sure emily won't notice." his eyebrows raise, awaiting your drunken response. your mouth drops in a shocked manor and your eyebrows furrow as though your offended, "wow - matt, nice going." you try to cross your arms but you end up stumbling into the counter, the boy's hands immediately reach out to stabilise you. "it'd take a lot more than that to take me to bed, thank you very much, mr taylor." you scold, trying to inject a sense of indignation into your slurred words. the room felt like it was swaying gently; perhaps it was the alcohol or maybe just your overwhelming desire to keep your balance. you glared at matt, half-heartedly trying to regain your composure, but the corners of your mouth couldn't help but twitch into a smirk.

you couldn't remember much after that, besides the blinding light bursting through the curtains beaming into your eyes, only a single silhouette there to block it.

you're quite used to getting black out drunk, in fact you've got a casual routine, wake up, hole into your head until you stumble towards the cabinet wherever you are, managing to grab some sort of pill. lie in the bath - this is a crucial step. no water besides from when you awkwardly attempt to drink some from the tap. eventually you throw up the pills you'd taken, so you take a few more. at this point you should be okay to get up and carry on with your day.

you tell yourself this is how it’s meant to be; the routine is as much a part of your identity as the lingering pallor in your cheeks. you’ll put on a brave face, mask the chaos with a smile, and carry on with your day, ever-so-slightly hopeful that today might be different.

though you're not so used to going on a three day bender, every drink you consume having at least a drop of some form of alcohol. so your routine didn't exactly apply.

"hey," a voice whispers, slowly placing a cold cloth on your head, “you okay?” it’s light and gentle, a contrast to the erratic thrum inside your skull.

you squint against the light and the silhouette shifts, revealing matt, but this time with a softer expression, worry etched into the corners of his eyes. “you were insane last night,” he says, half-smiling, half-concerned. matt takes a deep breath, the worry still lingering in his eyes, and leans back in his chair, allowing you some space.

“seriously, what were you thinking?” he asks, his tone shifting to something more serious.

“you can’t just push yourself like that, especially when you know you haven’t slept in days.” the warmth of his concern wraps around you, thick and palpable, grounding you even as the room spins slightly.

"shit, " you roll over, while trying to sit yourself up, "i'm really sorry" your hands slowly and deeply massage your face, "can't remember a thing."

matt softly chuckles, placing his hands onto the arm rests, “well, where to begin? you were fighting me for a drink. scolded me for tying to sleep with you, which was the opposite of what i was doing. you searched the house for cigarettes and eventually gave up and tried to uber 3 bricks of coke to the lodge. erm… you threw up in the hot tub, on the counter, on emily, on me and i think a bit of miles show when you threw up on emily for the second time.”

you suppress a groan, sinking back into the chair as matt’s words cascade over you, each one accompanied by an embarrassing flashback that jolts through your mind like electric shocks.

"what?" it was all you could say. frozen and still in your own embarrassment.

“oh! and let’s not forget the part where you tried to convince jessica that she was actually a mystical mermaid forced on earth to enchant her way into human hearts."

you open your mouth to speak but the curly-haired boy continues.

“-not quite done yet, darling. you couldn’t let go of this ‘mermaid theory’, convinced you could see jess’s scales. so you flung your drink at her and then yelled ‘be free, my aquatic queen’ right in her face.”

you wince, burying your head in your hands. “for fuck's sake, please tell me you're lying,” you let out a muffled groan. matt's infectious laughter rings in your ears, despite your mortification and god awful pain you're in.

matt leans forward, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “and after your mermaid debacle, you decided to perform a dramatic interpretation of 'under the Sea' from The Little Mermaid for the whole living room."

you immediately butt in, "liar!" you rarely ever laugh in front of your friends, never mind whatever this is.

"i swear I’ve never seen sam laugh and cry at the same time.” he shakes his head, barely able to contain his amusement as he gestures broadly, “you were flapping your arms like a fish out of water, and the way you-“

you roll your eyes, “enough!” you raise your voice, a slight anger in your tone as your embarrassment begins to ebb. you immediately feel bad for the once giddy boy, "sorry, i don't usually tend to have hangovers this bad…" you say, a hand attempting to tame the pounding in you heard, you put the boy at ease with a smile, "…did i at least have a good audience?"

"an audience of friends who might never look at you the same way again,” he teases, but his smile is warm and understanding. “but hey, that’s what makes us family, right? You do something outrageous, and we love you for it. maybe not jess… or emily. but the rest of us do. i love you.” his words hang in the air, unsure of their stance, good bad? neither of you knew.

“you love me?” you manage to say, half teasing and half genuinely astonished, heart fluttering uncomfortably in your chest.

he briefly fixes his posture, shuffling in his seat, “maybe. even thought you can be a bitch and you have a slight alcohol issue, you’re still lovable.”

you take a moment to take a note of reality, the mess on the floor, presumably caused by you. your hair was unspeakable, makeup smudged, deep and heavy eye bags, one of your lashes hanging off your cheek while your other was probably exploring the outside, it’s definitely… a look.

“even after all this?” you wave down your body and across the room

he leans forward, fiddling with his thumbs, eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart race. “that’s exactly it,” he says gently, “you’re unpredictable, messy and unapologetically you, and i think it’s fucking awesome. you’re so… so, so, so real.”

his sincerity makes the room feel smaller, as it the weight of his words could encircle you both in an element of quiet intimacy. you can throw but smile, your heart swelling. “so, what does this mean for us?” you query hopefully.

“maybe it’s the start of something new.”

you made the bold decision to lay off of the drink for your own sake (also because it took you the rest of the week to recover) - instead you’d accompany matt in whatever he was up to.

mike felt a bit disappointed that his pep talk was wasted on a sappy conversation rather than a manly knight in shining armour act.

jess eventually forgave you, insuring you tell her everything about the two of you. emily would occasionally listen in nonchalantly as she clearly hadn’t forgave you for the sick-tuation (get it? i’m so sorry)

matt takes pride in waking you up with a drink or some food, it’s a bit difficult when your only options are out of the washingtons’ sparse cabinets.

you had to make a slight change in your ‘how you got together’ story when meeting his parents, either way they loved you, and thought you were a great reason for matt to take his laser focus off of football.

speaking of football, you’re at every game wearing some old spare shirt he had laying around.

when he first met your parents, god it was something you should’ve prevented. matt sides with your mum’s every word, dishes, staying out too late, waking up too early. honestly everything and anything.

he’s easily the most caring, you’re always on his mind, your wants, your needs, what you’re doing, how you’re doing.

in return you help him study, you’re not much smarter, but with matt, you find fun in the coursework.

[moodywyrm]

Omg ellie and chubby reader just in general?!

Girl loves the way you look and I feel like she’d always wanna be touching you

Omg college au? She wants you at her dorm all. the. time. Just so she can feel up your pretty body and squish herself between your pretty boobas and/or thighs

Ellie Williams loves thick women. She told me so <3

She fucking adores you!! Thinks you're the sexiest, most gorgeous woman in the world and genuinely doesn't know how she managed to pull you because? Who knows man, she's Ellie Williams she could pull anyone. But loser college barista Ellie Williams? Dork central. Loser Rizz. (that's how she pulled you) (big fan of loser lesbians)

I know y'all know the trend of lanky gamer boys loving fat women, Ellie falls into a similar category. She fucking loves that you're bigger than her. Loves the weight of you on her lap, loves how soft you are, loves holding your curves. 80% of the time she's holding onto your soft hips, squishing at the plush fat. What can she say, it grounds her!

There are lil things about you that just make her dizzy and blushy, like the squish of your tummy when you wear crop tops, or jeans that dig into it, or bottoms that show it off. The first time you wore crop top to the cafe she nearly fainted because fucking Christ man. Or the softness of your arms! The way your thighs do the thing when you sit down! Absolutely enamored, I tell you.

Loves cuddling with you, especially during finals season. Like you're both stressed, you both need it, and what better way to destress than in the arms of your girlfriend! There have been so many instances where Ellie fell asleep on your lap or your tummy because she was so stressed with finals. poor baby :( physics is evil!

Also! Loves laying between your thighs, you're so right nonnie! Your thighs are just so big and soft and the perfect pillows and ear warmers for our girl :( how is she supposed to stay away from them? she's not! Loves holding them, pawing at them, is pretty much always gripping your thigh when she drives you around. They're just so nice!!

And your boobs! Any size boob. They're just so soft and sweet and perfect for biting! Ellie and her oral fixation, if you're a plus size girl it's just so so prevalent. Bites literally every inch of you. Covers you in hickies, including your hips! She chomps! She bites! Look at me and tell me she's not a biter. Look at me and lie to my face.

Speaking of faces. Ellie and face sitting. She has to Beg you to sit on her face, im talking on her knees pleading with you to sit on her face. You resist at first, because she's smaller than you and you don't wanna break her, but she can be very convincing <3

You try to hover and she fucking Yanks you down onto her waiting mouth, her deceptively strong arms keeping you pinned as she eats your pretty pussy. It's heaven for her, having all of your weight on her and having your cunt in her mouth. The soft weight of your thighs pressing against her, literally nothing could be better.

Or at least that's what she thinks, until you start shaking on top of her and cumming into her mouth, and Jesus fucking christ she has front row seats to the most beautiful display of pleasure she's ever seen. She's so in love dude, and your body makes her dizzy.

Ellie just. Ellie fucking Adores chubby women. So Much.