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munson-blurbs · 5 months ago

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Summary: A missing key and a terrible storm leaves you and Eddie stranded in the back of his van. What ever shall you do to pass the time?

WC: 1.6k

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), unprotected p in v, friends-to-lovers, kinda sub!Eddie but he's mostly just a simp.

A/N: This will be my last 1k+ fic for a while, as I'll be focusing on writing blurbs for Corroded Coffin Fest throughout July. Why not go out with a (literal) bang?

“What do you mean, you forgot your key?”

Your eyes widen as Eddie flicks through the keyring. He shakes his head in frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

“I was switching keychains…I thought I put them all back…” He huffs out an irritated laugh. “Must’ve left the house key on the table.”

A warm breeze siphons through the humidity, gray clouds rolling in. August in Hawkins is unbearable as it is, and the sticky heat before a storm is downright brutal.

Eddie jiggles the doorknob once more, to no avail. “Jesus H. Christ.” He rakes a hand through his curls, frizzy and knotted from the hot weather. “Back to your place?”

Before you can agree, lightning flashes and is swiftly accompanied by booming thunder. Your heart leaps into your throat and you jump.

“Scared the shit outta me, too.” Eddie laughs nervously. A fat raindrop falls from the sky and plops on his nose, rolling off of the side. Another lands on his cheek, then one lands on yours, until rain pours in a steady sheet.

Eddie grabs your hand, tugging you off of the trailer’s front steps and pulling you back to his van. He flings open the back doors, always kept unlocked unless he’s hauling concert equipment.

“Get in,” he orders, and you follow his instructions without a second though. Rainwater pools in the grass, dirt turning into mud beneath your sneakered feet. His hands grip your waist, steadying you as you climb up. “We’ll wait in here until the rain dies down.”

You ignore the lingering flames that his touch leaves behind and the way he’s now sitting right next to you. “It’s like a monsoon out there.”

“Yeah.”

The two of you sit in silence for a few moments, listening to the storm raging outside. Raindrops sound like drum beats against the van’s exterior, a song you’ve heard many times before.

A chill sweeps over you, reminding you of the wet cotton of your t-shirt clinging to your torso. Your miniskirt hasn't fared much better, the light-washed denim now dark.

“Do you have a blanket back here?”

Eddie shakes his head. “That’s, like, the one thing I don’t have.” He gestures to the cluttered space.

You offer a half-smile. “S’okay.” Your palms glide up and down your goosebump-covered arms.

He notices this, frowning. “Here,” he says. “My hands are bigger than yours.” He clumsily positions himself behind you, knees knocking against your sides. His grasp is strong but gentle, hands warming you up from the outside in.

“Thanks.” He’s close—so close—yet it feels like he’s never been farther away. Without thinking, you scoot back until your ass brushes against his fly.

“Sh-Shit.” Eddie inhales sharply. “That’s, um, dangerous territory.”

You raise your brows, though he can’t see them. “And rubbing my arms isn’t?”

Eddie peers around, chin resting on your shoulder. He looks up and says, “it doesn’t turn you on though.”

“Says who?��

He breathes out a laugh, stopping immediately when he realizes that you’re not joking. His voice is barely above a whisper when he asks, “This…this turns you on?”

You nod, suddenly shy at the admission.

“How about this?” Eddie’s lips press against the back of your neck. One calloused hand reaches for the collar of your shirt, tugging it down to expose your shoulder. He kisses that, too, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin.

“Mhm.”

“Fuck.” His other hand snakes around your throat, holding it firmly but being careful not to squeeze. “We shouldn’t do this. S’gonna ruin our friendship.”

Gently, you turn to face him, legs straddling his waist. “I’m fine with ruining it if you are.” The words are murmured, muffled by the proximity of your lips and his.

Eddie swallows, Adam's apple bobbing with trepidation. “Just want you. Fuck, I want you so bad.”

He grabs your ass and pulls you closer until you can feel his erection straining against his jeans. You roll your hips, eliciting a moan from him.

“You—I gotta—” He unbuckles his belt, tossing it amongst the van’s clutter. “I’m so hard it hurts.”

You reach for his pants button, but he shakes his head. “I’ll bust if you touch me,” he sheepishly explains.

He takes off his own pants, which is much more of a chore than usual because of the rain-soaked fabric. He doesn’t bother to remove his Hellfire shirt, but you hardly notice. His tented boxers hold your focus, and despite his warning, you strip them away. You need to see what’s beneath them.

The sight before you is nothing less than glorious.

His cock is hard, curved slightly left, the pinkish-purple tip already leaking pre-cum. Your thumb traces the vein that runs along the shaft, and he shivers at your touch. When he looks at you with wide, wet eyes, you nearly melt on the spot.

“Is…Is this what you want?” Eddie’s voice is so soft you can barely hear it above the pouring rain. “Because…I want this so bad. So fucking bad.” Pleading, desperate, bordering on pathetic. Everything he showed outwardly, you felt on the inside.

You lean in, capturing his lips and pouring all of your desire into one searing kiss. “Don’t just want it. Need it. Need you,” you reassure him, feeling his length twitch against you. Taking it in your hand, you move your panties out of the way and rub the head against your clit. Every nudge sends a wave of pleasure crashing through your body. “Mmmph, please, please.”

Eddie wraps his hand around yours, guiding his cock into you. “There you go,” he whispers, hissing as you sink down. He fills you completely, bringing a pinch of pain as you adjust to him. “You okay?”

“Mhm. M-More than okay.” You grip his shoulders, curling your fingers into the shirt’s cotton fabric. Moving your hips, you work him deeper until he’s bottomed out, sheathed within you down to the curls at his base.

Everything is Eddie, and it feels so good.

“Can’t believe I’m inside you.” He tries to kiss you, the action hindered by a small laugh. “I’m actually—we’re actually doing this. Fuck, you feel so good!” The last sentence is a growl, raw and primal.

You hold on to him, knees scraping against the van’s worn carpet as your movements find their rhythm. There’s no more time for self-control. Only Eddie, his hips bucking to meet your core.

“Might…might not last long,” he admits, swiping at a bead of sweat dripping down his temple. “You’re even better than my fantasies. Never knew you’d feel this f-fucking warm. Tight. Like you’re m-made for me.”

“Maybe I am.” You swoop down to suck on his neck. “Maybe I am made for you, and I’ve been waiting for you to realize it.”

Eddie groans, throwing his head back and exposing more of his neck, which you dutifully continue marking. His thoughts are clouded by lust; neither of you speak for a while, the only noises are moans and the van squeaking on its axles.

“It’s always you.”

Your eyes meet his. “What?”

“In my fantasies. It’s always you. Every time I jerk off, I imagine your hands, your mouth, your perfect pussy—”

“Eddie.” His name is barely a breath. You clench around him just as he kisses you, and his teeth sink into your lower lip. It’s not hard enough to draw blood, but it produces a twinge of pain that has you skyrocketing towards climax. “Yes, yes, yes!”

He grabs your hips harshly, keeping you flush against him. The denim waistband of your skirt digs into your skin but you don’t care. Nothing matters, only Eddie, Eddie, Eddie…

“I’m coming. Fuck, I’m coming.” He thrusts upwards in short, punctuated strokes, heaving as he spills into you.

The two of you stay like that for a few moments, catching your breath and processing what just happened. You confessed that Eddie’s touch turned you on, you rode him in the back of his van, and then he confessed that he thinks about you when he touches himself.

Oh, and he gave you an earth-shattering orgasm.

As if reading your mind, Eddie says softly, “you came…right? Because if you didn’t, I can—”

“Yeah.” You can’t help but giggle, silencing him with a kiss. “I definitely came.”

His chest sags with relief. “Good. Me, too. I mean, obviously. It’s right…” He withdraws, cock softening, his cum trickling down your thigh. “Holy fucking shit.”

There’s no masking his grin, visible through the t-shirt’s thin fabric as he pulls it over his head. With a careful touch, he wipes away his mess.

“I think I owe you a new shirt.”

“Nah.” He shakes his head, tossing the shirt aside. “I have a million of these. Not the first time one’s been, uh, stained.”

Eddie’s cheeks turn crimson at his admission. He averts his gaze from you, bringing his attention to the foggy window. The condensation squeaks under his forefinger as he draws a smiley face through it.

“What do you wanna do till my uncle gets home?”

You, you think, but the last thing you need is for Wayne to find the van a-rockin’. “Maybe I could hear more about those fantasies of yours? And I could tell you some of mine?”

Eddie looks back at you, his spent cock still managing a small twitch. “Mmm.” His lips find your throat, sending vibrations through you when he speaks. One hand snakes between your bodies, his middle finger landing on your clit. He makes small, deliberate circles as he murmurs.

“Ladies first.”

#eddie x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #fanfic #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things #smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut

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jamespotterismydaddy · 11 months ago

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When Nobody's Around

luke castellan x reader

capture the flag pt 2!

A/N: not me keeping my promises and posting three days in a row

TW: so much smut omg, throat-fucking, pussy slapping, cockwarming, overstim

word count: 1,225 words

After what happened with Luke the other day, you need to do something to cool off, to get your mind off of it. Training is the perfect thing. You make your way down to the grounds with Clarisse. Your half-sister is the perfect person to train with because she fights so hard that it gives you no chance to think.

“Fuck.” You murmur. You’re already there when you realize you forgot something. “I have to go back for my sneakers.”

“Don’t take too long, dumbass.” She smirks and you roll your eyes before jogging back to your cabin. It’s so weird because you could’ve sworn on your life that you had brought them.

You shake off the feeling and open the cabin door. There shouldn’t be anyone inside, all your siblings are training and whatnot. There shouldn’t be anyone in there, especially not Luke Castellan who is sitting on your bed, holding your sneakers.

What. The. Fuck.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” He states, giving you an easygoing grin.

“Get out of my cabin.”

“No.”

“Not only are you not meant to be in here, I also don’t want you here.” Your voice is angry as you walk towards him.

“I think you do.”

You scoff. “Stop acting like you know me.”

He gives you a sly smile. “But I do know you… very intimately.”

“If you’re here for another hookup, it’s not going to happen.” You say adamantly.

He stands up, walking towards you. You hate the way he towers over your smaller body. “I’m actually here to apologize.”

“Apologize?” You ask doubtingly, not really thinking he was the type.

“Yeah.” His hands fall to your waist. You don’t shove him off right away, waiting to see where this all goes. “I was very rough with you before.” His hand slides up to hold your chin, thumbing your lip. “Maybe I wanted to be more gentle this time? Get down on my knees and eat you nice and slow.”

“I can’t stand you.” You breathe out as his hand ghosts down, rubbing over your breast.

“You’re such a damn brat.” He gives you a squeeze. “I thought I fucked that out of you last time but apparently not.”

You want to come up with some clever retort but all you can do is whimper in response.

“Now, how about you get on your knees and if you suck me well enough maybe, just maybe, i’ll get you off.”

You drop to your knees. You hate to admit it but you like the way he talks to you. No other guy has enough confidence to try and put you in your place.

“What a submissive little slut.” He coos as he grips your hair with one hand.

“I’ll bite your cock off.” You say as you unzip his jeans, tugging them down.

“We both know that would be more of a loss for you than me.” He chuckles at how your eyes widen when he pulls his dick out. He may have been inside of you but you never actually saw how big he is. “Suck it.”

You glare but take him in your mouth as far back as you can. You gag when the tip of him touches the back of your throat.

“That’s right, baby. Choke on my cock.” He murmurs as he begins to thrust into your mouth languidly. Your eyes water as you try to suck him off but it’s more like being throat-fucked instead with the way he grips your hair to pull your head back and forth. He gives a little slap to your cheek. “No teeth.” He warns as he continues to use your mouth like he pleases.

You’re surprised when he pulls out before finishing. “You can swallow my cum another time. I plan on keeping my promises.”

When you’re on your feet, Luke pulls you into a kiss. He taps your ass once so you jump, letting him hold you as he walks you back to your bed. He parts his lips from yours, placing you down so you sit on the edge of your bed.

“It’s your turn to get on your knees.” You say cheekily.

“Don’t go acting like you’re in charge.” He says but kneels anyhow. “I’m not opposed to giving that ass a few more smacks.” You shift a bit at the comment as he pulls off your pants. “Oh, maybe you’d like that.”

“I wouldn’t.” You lie as he yanks down your panties, revealing how wet you are.

“No?” He asks, amused before laying a harsh smack to your cunt. You drip out more arousal. “Liar.” He murmurs before digging in.

His hands hold tight to your thighs as he buries his face in your cunt. It’s stimulating too much and just the right amount all at once. You begin to whine and try to squirm away but he keeps you firmly in place with his strong hands as he laps up your arousal.

“Better than fucking ambrosia.” He looks up, grinning like a devil before nipping at your clit. Your hand is in his hair now, pulling tightly as you’re so close… so close and then… he stops.

“Luuuke…” You whine in frustration.

“Sorry, baby but you’re gonna cum around my cock.”

He picks you up like you weigh nothing and throws you back further on the bed before shifting his body between your legs. He uses his dick to tease your clit and you whimper.

“Please, Luke.” You beg, looking at him with doe eyes.

“Look at you, so pretty as you beg to be fucked. I’ll give you what you want.” His words are so lewd but his voice is so gentle.

He slips himself inside of you in one go, once again not caring about you adjusting. Though, he exercises a bit more restraint this time, not moving quite yet. He at least wants you to be able to walk somewhat well after this. He leans down to kiss your neck, leaving love bites that you'll have to explain later before he actually starts to give you what you need. He begins to thrust, trying to avoid acting like a rabid dog even if he knows you like it.

“You’re so fucking tight. Never had such a tiny little pussy before.” The way you squeeze around him has him throwing all decorum out the window. He begins to fuck into you like this is the last chance he’ll get.

“Mmm Luke, harder.” You beg.

“Fucking slut.” He says with a grin before slinging your leg over his shoulder so he can piston into you deeper.

“Want you… to cum… inside.” The words have him going feral. He uses his thumb to rub your clit, making you spasm under him.

“Is that all it takes? Barely even had to touch your sweet pearl.” You cream around his cock and he fucks you through it. The overstimulation has you seeing stars but after a few moments, his thrusts finally begin to slow. He stills and you feel his hot cum spurt into you, filling you to the brim until it spills out.

He slumps down on you, pressing tired kisses to your collarbone as he lets you cockwarm him.

“Want me to go?” He asks.

It should be an easy answer. You should say yes.

“No… stay.”

And he smiles.

taglists (comment to be added): General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 @watercolorskyy @ophelialaufey @aerangi

Luke Castellan: @amortencjja @urmomsbananabread

#luke castellan #luke castellan smut #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson #pjo x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson fic

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lovebugism · 4 months ago

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steve request for adjusting back to normality with him after the upside down ends? however much u wanna write 🤭🤍🤍 ur writing is gorgeous btw

ty angel! hope you like it!! — steve helps his agoraphobic gf leave the house for the first time since the world ended (established relationship, hurt/comfort, cw for mentions of agoraphobia | 1.5k)

bug's summer fic fest (⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

You sit on the stairwell and tie your shoes, trying desperately to ignore the trembling of your anxious fingers. The thin laces threaten to slip from your tremoring hands as you knot one loop into the other. You couldn’t hide from your worry if you tried.

Steve’s heavy footsteps sound behind you in a steady, even rhythm as he walks down the stairs. You can hear the dull clapping of the boy patting his pockets to ensure his keys and wallet haven’t yet fallen from them. You know he’ll do exactly that another ten times before you step foot out of the house. He’s just as anxious as you are these days.

“Almost ready?” he says, huffing, though a smile is evident in his voice.

You nod to yourself and make careful work of fastening the laces. “Mhm,” you hum.

“Did you make sure to pack those Ants on a Log things? ‘Cause Dustin’ll kill me if we don’t bring ‘em,” Steve frets, for the second or third time that morning. He stills on the step just behind you and crosses a pair of golden arms over his chest. “Because, you know, he’s the only kid in America who actually likes celery.”

You tilt your chin to look up at him, smiling despite the fear pinching your chest. “Everything’s in the basket, Stevie.”

“Including the—”

“Yes, including the drinks. And the sandwiches. It’s all in the fridge,” you finish for him. “And the blanket’s in the car, so… Everything’s ready.”

Steve’s chest deflates with a distant sigh of relief. He’s been so used to doing everything on his own — carrying the load of that burden entirely by himself — that he forgot what it meant to have someone else to lean on.

“God, I’m so in love with you,” he murmurs fondly, mostly to himself, as he bends at the waist to kiss your hair. The plush of his lips brush your temple in a warm touch you lean instinctively into.

With a wide hand on your shoulder, Steve feels for the first time how tense you are. All rigid, muscles taut, like cradling a rock in his palm. You’ve kept a brave face for him all day, but there’s only so much hiding you can do.

“You’re still okay with this?” he wonders aloud as he stands to full height again.

His scruffy face is all twisted with concern, but you’re not looking at him to see it. You tie your right sneaker with a pair of graceless hands, where you seem to hold most of your anxiety, and scoff at the silly question. “Am I okay with the… picnic?” you echo.

“Yeah,” Steve shrugs, lips jutted, as he walks past you down the steps. He turns and leans against the railing, trying hard to be casual. “‘Cause, you know, if you weren’t, we could just have it in the backyard or something. Make all the little shits come here.”

It takes you a moment too long to catch his meaning.

Sometimes you forget that you haven’t left the house all year. You’ve fallen into such a routine here, at Steve’s house (which you’ve come to see as your own), that you’ve forgotten there’s a whole world outside of it. A whole world you shut yourself out of after it nearly ended — after it chewed you up and spat you out again.

You tell yourself that you survived. You tell yourself that you lived in spite of the unfavorable odds. But sometimes, when you feel like shards of flesh and bones instead of a real-life human being, you wonder if you’re alive at all.

“I’m good, Steve,” you assure despite the waver in your voice. Your hands fumble with the laces, and you have to start all over again. “It’s just the park, babe. I can make it to the park.”

Steve nods in response, raking an anxious hand through his hair. He swallows down any attempts to remind you that you’ve barely made it out of the garage, let alone to the park.

“Besides, I’m pretty sure it’s a crime to be this pale in the middle of July, anyway,” you joke with a forced laugh.

The only time you really see the sun is when you’re sitting out on the patio — sipping at your morning coffee or watching Steve languish in the pool. You hardly last more than an hour, though, before a plane rumbles overhead or a car engine thunders too loudly. That’s all it takes for everything to come rushing back to you. The monsters, the soldiers, the blood. Then you lock yourself away all over again.

You hope this time is different.

Steve nods again, always hopeful, if only for your sake.

“Okay. Just… Just making sure, you know?” he trails off, then scrunches his nose. “Should we have a codeword, anyway? Like, for when the kids annoy the shit outta me, and I wanna get the hell outta there?”

You squint to yourself, pretending to ponder the question, as you rise from the stairs. You take a few steps downward until you’re standing just ahead of Steve — a few inches taller than him now.

“How about… Get me the hell outta here?” you offer with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

A wide, pink grin blossoms on his mouth. “That’s perfect, actually,” Steve muses sarcastically, then meets you halfway when you lean down to kiss him.

It’s a chaste and very innocuous peck that tastes faintly of Steve’s mouthwash and the peanut butter you licked from the spoon after making Dustin’s Ants on a Log.

Despite its fleeting nature, you hang onto the simple kiss your entire way through the front door.

The first step out of the house is the hardest.

You struggle to feel the ground beneath your feet as your mind threatens to wander. Thoughts of death plague your mind despite your attempts to push them away — roaring demogorgons, exploding guns, screaming teenagers. You have to fight the urge to cover your ears when a helicopter whizzes overhead, hidden somewhere in the clouds but sounding much closer than that.

Steve holds your hand the entire way. “Almost there,” you hear him mumbling beneath the heartbeat woosh, woosh, wooshing in your ears. Your eyes squeeze shut. He leads you to the car and squeezes your hand. “You’re doing amazin’, babe. Just a couple more steps.”

You’re at the car in five seconds flat, though it had felt like five minutes at the time — and took approximately five years off your life. You feel eons better when you’re tucked into the passenger seat of Steve’s 733i. You feel more grounded there — with the tires against the asphalt, and Steve’s hand on your thigh, and the radio cranked all the way up.

You’re still a shaking mess when you get to the park, but the kids are a good enough distraction.

You opt to busy your anxious hands with the picnic — handing out food, protecting drinks, and ensuring the emptying basket doesn’t blow away. You sit in the shade in the center of Steve’s quilt as leaves rustle in the warm breeze, allowing bits of summer sun to peek through and glitter on your skin.

You keep a watchful eye on the kids around you as they scatter mindlessly about, making sure no one ventures far enough where you can’t see them. Steve yells at them for it so you don’t have to — shouts at Max and El for getting too close to the tree line while he tosses a ball to Lucas.

He’s slowly mastering the art of throwing with his left hand. He hasn’t been able to lift his right one over his head since Starcourt. There’s a persistent ache in his shoulder he hasn’t been able to get rid of.

He walks over to you when the distance grows too much to bear, twisting his arm with a screwed-up face as he tries to find the root of the pain. “Whaddaya got for me, sweet thing?” he asks with a lopsided smile.

You reach into the basket beside you and pull out the last sandwich of the bunch, which you kept aside especially for him, wrapped neatly in plastic.

You hiss playfully through your teeth, then squint faux apologetically up at him. “All that’s left is tomato-avocado…” you joke, feigning horror.

Steve’s face twists. “Ugh. Seriously?” he huffs in disappointment.

“No,” you hum in response, smiling as you pass him his favorite sandwich. “Here you go.”

It’s a simple turkey, ham, and bacon number with all the fixings, but he particularly likes how you make it. (You argue that it can’t taste any better than a diner-made sandwich, but Steve always insists otherwise.)

Your fingers brush when it takes it from you. Steve finds it difficult not to melt for you entirely, and not just because of the sweltering summer heat.

He’s spent half of his life believing that no one ever gave him a passing thought — or that, at the very least, he was only ever an afterthought. But you remind him every day that he’s so much more than the nothing he often sees himself as. You remind him, through silly picnics and sandwiches made with love, what it means to be truly cared for.

“I love you,” Steve hums quietly, adoration melting in his honey eyes. “You know that?”

You nod once, hiding a smile as you squint one eye from the beaming sun. “I know.”

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #steve harrington imagine #stranger things #steve harrington #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #st drabbles #stevie drabble #event: bug's summer fic fest '24

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punkshort · 5 months ago

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Roommates | 7. jack and jill

Pairing: pornstar!joel x f!reader

Chapter Summary: You and Joel organize Tommy and Maria's bachelor and bachelorette party together, making it the first time you've spoken to each other since you moved out.

Chapter Warnings: language, discussions revolving mental health and therapy, insecurity issues, anxiety, angst, alcohol and food consumption, idiots in love but won't admit it, cigarette use, one bed couch trope

WC: 6.8K

Series Masterlist

Five Months Later

Everything was fine. Everything was going to be fine. There was no need to be nervous.

Okay, so you were going back to the house for the very first time since you moved out. You didn't count the time last month when you idled in the driveway in your car, waiting to pick Maria up to go to her dress fitting. You avoided it as much as you could, but eventually she asked you to come over to help with wedding planning. She wanted to look over the seating chart and because it was so big and she insisted on making a physical floor plan instead of a digital one, she guilted you into coming to the house.

You didn't have the nerve to ask if Joel would be there, but when you pulled up to the house, your stomach doing cartwheels and threatening to bring up your breakfast, Joel's truck was gone.

Relief and disappointment flooded you all at once.

When you approached the front door, your hand hovered over the doorknob. Should you knock? Do you just walk in? You stood there a minute too long, going back and forth, undecided, until the door swung open with Maria standing on the other side.

"What are you doing?"

"I don't know."

She rolled her eyes and opened the door wider. "Don't be weird," she told you as you slid past her into the familiar hall to kick off your sneakers.

Although the house was generally the same, it felt different now.

"Is anyone home?" you asked timidly as you followed her into the kitchen to grab some drinks.

"Tommy's got work," she replied, pulling a bottle of wine from the fridge. You took a deep breath and inwardly groaned. She was really going to make you work for it.

"And... Joel?"

She stopped and looked at you like you were speaking another language. "Have you still not spoken to him?"

You chewed on your lower lip and her shoulders sagged.

"C'mon, you promised us you would work things out before you left."

"We will! I've just been... busy, I guess."

"It's been months. You need to talk to him," she scolded, brushing past you as she headed to the dining room table where her seating chart was all spread out. "We're getting close to the big day and you guys need to plan our Jack and Jill."

You cocked an eyebrow at her and took the glass she extended your way. "Jack and Jill?"

"Yeah, y'know, where the bachelor and bachelorette parties join into one big party?" You must have looked confused because she frowned and popped her hand on her hip. "I mentioned this three months ago."

"I know, I know, I just forgot."

"You need to get your shit together. You're my maid of honor! I need you."

"I will, I promise," you said firmly, taking a sip of wine. "I'll text him tomorrow and I'll set something up so we can start planning."

She eyed you up for a moment before dropping into a chair with a sigh. "Thanks. Sorry, I know this is tough but you guys gotta work things out. You're both too important to us."

"We will. Don't even give it another thought." You sat down across from her and glanced around while she opened up a notebook with her guest list. "So, where is he?"

"Well, if you would have called him in the past five months, you would know he moved out."

You raised your eyebrows in surprise. "When?"

"Like, two months ago, I think."

"Good. That's... good. Good for him."

"He bought a house."

You nearly choked on your wine. "He did?"

She nodded and bit back a grin. "A lot of things have changed. You'd be surprised."

"What's that mean?" you asked with a frown. She just shrugged.

"You'll have to talk to him and find out."

You tossed a piece of popcorn across the table at her and she giggled. "Enough about Joel. Let's get down to business. Like where am I going to put my Aunt Cathie when she refuses to speak to anyone on my side of the family?"

You tapped your chin and looked down at the poster. "Kitchen?"

In hindsight, picking a coffee shop was a bad idea. You were nervous enough as it was, the last thing you needed was extra caffeine. But still you found yourself sitting at a small table by the window twenty minutes before you were supposed to meet Joel, tapping your foot anxiously on the tile floor and turning around every time one of the doors opened.

To kill time, you stared down at your texts from earlier in the week, rereading them over and over, trying to pick up on his energy so you could get an idea of what you were walking into.

Hey

Then, two painful hours later:

Hey

I was hoping we could meet up sometime soon if you're free? Maria not so subtly pointed out we need to plan their Jack and Jill party.

You remembered at the time, the little text bubbles appeared and disappeared over and over, as if he were changing his mind until he finally sent:

Sure. Thursday?

Thursday works. Java Joint on third?

I can swing by after work around 4

Okay - looking forward to it :)

Then... nothing.

Maybe the smiley face was overkill.

You drained the last of your iced latte and got up to throw it in the trash. When you sat back down at your table, a flurry of activity caught your attention through the window. Three girls were bouncing on their heels and giggling into their palms, grabbing each other's shoulders with their phones in their hands as they spoke to none other than Joel fucking Miller. He had his sunglasses on and a white Henley shirt, the material stretching across his broad chest and arms. Paired with the confident smirk on his face, he looked devastatingly good. You watched with a twist of envy in your chest as the girls all took selfies with his arm wrapped around their shoulders before he finally jutted his thumb towards the coffee shop and gave them a final wave, turning on his heel and then heading in your direction. Once his back was turned, the girls collectively lost their shit while looking down at their pictures, but you couldn't pay them any more attention because Joel was about to walk through the door.

Butterflies burst in your stomach when he pushed his sunglasses on top of his head, locking eyes with you, and suddenly it felt like no time had passed at all. Memories of watching movies with your feet tucked under his thigh and making dinners together flashed before your eyes while you forced yourself to give him a shy wave.

He simply nodded in return and motioned towards the counter, indicating he was getting something to drink, and when his gaze finally left yours in favor of reading the menu, you let yourself fully take him in. He looked really fucking good. Something was different but you couldn't put your finger on it. Healthier, maybe? Or maybe he just looked happier now without all the stress you brought into his life.

He must have said something flirty to the barista because she giggled and the tips of her ears turned red and, after he paid, he sauntered down the counter, casually resting his elbow on the hard surface while scrolling his phone.

From the look of it, he was no where near as nervous as you felt, which just made your anxiety spike more.

The barista slid his coffee across the counter with a wide smile and he gave her a wink before turning to weave his way through the tables. You straightened up as he approached and tried to look normal.

"Hi."

He sat down across from you, putting his coffee down with a grunt. "Hey."

Your heart was practically wedged in your throat and your fingers wouldn't stop tapping nervously on the table.

"H-how are things?"

He shrugged and took a sip from his cup. "Alright. Busy."

He was looking everywhere but your eyes. You supposed you deserved that, but it still stung.

"How's work?"

He sighed and rubbed his eyes. "We don't gotta do this, y'know."

"Do what?"

"This," he said, waving his finger back and forth between you. "We can be civil for the sake of Tommy and Maria but we don't gotta pretend this is somethin' it ain't."

You tried to hide the hurt from your eyes but he must have clocked it because he pinched the bridge of his nose and made a frustrated sound.

"Don't gimme that look."

"I'm not," you replied defiantly, staring down at your fingers now. "I'm sorry, Joel. For all of it."

"You made that pretty damn clear when you left."

Your eyes snapped up to him as he took another sip from his coffee and looked around the café. Then your gaze fell onto the writing on his cup: a name with a phone number and a little heart and your stomach rolled but you took a deep breath, just like you practiced, and let it go.

"I didn't leave because I regretted it," you whispered. His eyes finally landed on you, patiently waiting for you to speak again. "I left because I couldn't stay away from you."

His eyes softened but he remained quiet, so you took a shaky breath in and continued.

"I needed time to think over what I did and why I did it and what I really want," you nervously began to shred your straw wrapper as you spoke. "And I couldn't do that with you so goddamn close because there's just something about you that drives me fucking crazy."

His lips twitched. "Crazy in what way?"

You sighed and slumped down in your chair. "Crazy as in every time I see you I want to kiss you and laugh with you and tell you about my day and just... be near you."

"Then why the hell didn't you wanna try 'n make it work?"

"Because of your job," you groaned pathetically, knowing full well you sounded like a broken record. "It's not your fault, Joel, it's mine. I have... issues. But I'm working on it. I've started seeing a therapist-"

"What issues?" he pressed.

"Jealousy, insecurity, self-doubt, anxiety... you name it."

He took a deep breath and readjusted in his chair so he was facing you instead of the café. "I didn't know you were goin' through all that. Is it helpin'?" he asked softly, and for the first time you thought you heard the Joel you used to know.

"Yeah, but it's hard," you replied. "It takes a lot of work to change the way you think and react to something. But I'm trying. Really, I am. Because-" you took a deep breath and raked your fingers through your hair. "No one makes me happy the way you made me happy. And I really, really fucking miss you." Tears welled up in your eyes that you quickly blinked away. Crying in the middle of a coffee shop was not on your list of things to do that day.

"What are you tryin' to tell me?" he asked, dropping his head so he could catch your eye. "Hm? Say it."

"I know I blew my chance with you and I don't deserve another one, but can we please try to be friends again?"

His gaze bounced back and forth between your eyes, studying your expression before slowly straightening up in his seat. "Friends?"

You nodded weakly, your lips pressed into a thin line.

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he considered it.

"What'll that look like?"

You frowned and gave him a little shrug. "Joke around. Inquire about each other's lives. Help each other out. Be supportive of one another."

He nodded along as you listed everything off with a confused look on your face, unclear as to why he was asking you to define friendship. "That's it?"

"What do you mean?"

"That's all you want?"

And there it was again: that undeniable pull, that undercurrent of tension bonding you together, making you question every word and every look.

"Yes," you finally answered quietly. It was a lie, of course, but you were too scared to put yourself fully out there. You already felt vulnerable enough with what you confessed and you couldn't stand the rejection if you told him the truth.

He ticked his jaw to the side and you could have sworn in that moment, he saw right through you. But maybe you were wrong, because his next words were -

"Alright, then. Let's be friends."

Your eyes lit up as he pulled out his phone and opened his calendar app.

"Thank you, Joel."

He nodded without looking up. "What weekend were you thinkin' for this party?"

"So you two kissed and made up?"

You scowled at Maria over the aisle at a local florist.

"We did not kiss, thank you."

She grinned and rolled her eyes before picking up a deep pink carnation. "It's a figure of speech, but you never know."

"Things are fine. I mean, they aren't like they were before, I doubt it ever will be, but you have nothing to worry about. We can be in the same room together without anything getting weird. I don't like that one," you added when she picked up a red poppy. She plunked it back down in the bucket and kept browsing.

"Good. And how's the party planning?"

"Really good, we're almost all done. I just need to pick up the shirts and the favors and we should be good to go."

"I can't thank you enough for organizing this for us, I'm so excited! It's gonna be the best weekend ever," she gushed, picking up a few other flowers in similar shades of pink.

"Well, hopefully your actual wedding will be a better weekend, but I appreciate the sentiment," you giggled.

"How are we doing ladies? Do you have any questions?" asked the florist, an older man who was wearing a Hawaiian shirt. Maria launched into a laundry list of questions and you grinned before leaning against the register and pulling out your phone. You had to actively stop yourself from opening up your text chain with Joel. In the past, aside from Maria, he was your person. He was the one you always texted silly things to whenever you were bored or lonely. Even though he agreed to be friends again, it had yet to feel the same. In fact, you still hadn't seen him since that day in the coffee shop. You had managed to do all the planning for the Jack and Jill over the phone, but you didn't want to tell Maria that. Something told you she would want you to try harder with him and you were too nervous to stick your neck out there. The shame you harbored for the way everything fell apart after the camping trip was too great.

"You wanna grab lunch?" she asked once she was done going over in excruciating detail the flowers she wanted in each bouquet and centerpiece.

"God, yes."

There was a nearby Mexican place you both loved so you ordered a couple margaritas while you waited for your food.

"Can I ask you a question that I've been dying to know the answer to but wanted to get you loosened up on booze first?"

You quirked an eyebrow at Maria and nodded hesitantly.

"Have you talked to Sam?"

You closed your eyes and groaned.

"Very briefly, only once. About a month after... you know."

She sipped her drink and nodded. "And?"

"It went about as well as you could expect. I tried to apologize but he was so hurt, I think I just made things worse."

"Thank god he got that new job. The timing couldn't have been better," she said, then winced when she saw the look in your face. "I'm sorry, I just meant at least you didn't have to worry about work being a factor. You had enough going on as it was."

"I know what you meant, it's okay," you assured her.

Maria stirred her drink with her straw for a moment, the two of you falling into a comfortable silence while you listened to Latin music over the speakers and blankly watched some soccer match that was muted on the TV over the bar.

"Can I ask you another messy question?" she finally asked. You grinned and shrugged.

"Go for it."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

You swallowed the lump in your throat and dropped your gaze to the table. "What was I gonna say? 'Oh, by the way, I'm fucking your boyfriend's brother behind my boyfriend's back?' You would have slapped me."

She laughed and leaned back in her seat to make room for the sizzling fajitas that got placed down in front of you both. She eagerly picked one up and began to pour salsa and sour cream on top before she spoke again.

"I don't think I would have slapped you, but I definitely would have made you to dump Sam and get with Joel."

"Yeah, that's not something I would have wanted to hear," you told her with a laugh.

"So," she said, wiping some sour cream from the corner of her mouth, "you didn't wanna date him because of his job, but fucking him was okay?"

You paused your chewing and gave her a blank stare. "What happened didn't make a ton of sense, but I can tell you this much: I was in deep denial over what was happening with Joel. I told myself it was just a friends with benefits thing and it didn't mean anything, but there's just something about him that I can't describe. Like we have some connection that's impossible to ignore, or something? Even the annoying things about him make me smile. I know I sound crazy, I'll shut up," you said when you noticed the incredulous look on Maria's face.

"Girl, you love him."

You balked and nearly choked on your taco. "No."

"Yes."

You shook your head and took a big sip from your margarita. "I care about him deeply but I'm not in love with him."

Maria widened her eyes in disbelief and looked back down at her food. "Okay... just sounds to me like something more."

You quickly changed the subject to her wedding dress, which easily distracted her while you let what she said about Joel marinate. Were you in love with Joel? Is that why you couldn't let Sam in? Were you that blind?

In the end, you decided to let it go. It didn't matter, anyway. What you had with Joel was over, and after the way things ended, you couldn't imagine a situation where he would ever want to give you another chance, assuming you could get past all your insecurities surrounding his profession. Therapy was helping, but you had a long way to go, and ultimately you were seeking help to better yourself overall, not to make things work with Joel.

Maria had told you Joel bought a house but for some reason, you imagined it was a small ranch house somewhere, not a gorgeous two-story relatively new build. Or so, it looked new as you walked up the driveway and stared at the new black roof and white siding. You could feel your heart beginning to beat faster the closer you got to his front porch, gripping the brown paper bag at your side with sweaty fingers.

Stop it, you're just leaving the shirts at his door, there's no need to be nervous.

You climbed the creaky wooden steps and looked at the two Adirondack chairs with a table in between and suddenly you felt a pit form in your stomach. Two?

Why hadn't it occurred to you before now that he could be seeing someone? What if he was bringing her as a date to the wedding?

Stop. It. Drop the bag and fucking go.

You nestled the paper bag behind one of the chairs and turned to leave when you heard the front door squeak open.

"What're you doin'?"

You closed your eyes and silently cursed to yourself before spinning around with a forced smile on your face, only to have it immediately slip with you saw Joel had greeted you completely shirtless with his hair a disheveled mess.

Shit.

"Hey, I'm, uh, just dropping off the shirts for the guys," you pointed to the paper bag, his eyes following your finger.

He opened the screen door, stepping out to pick it up and you had to look away. He was wearing basketball shorts and the material clung around his bulge just a little too well.

"Why didn't you just knock?"

"Um," you took a breath and met his gaze, refusing to let your eyes drop lower than his neck. "Didn't wanna bother you."

"It's no bother. You wanna come in?" he asked. You finally picked up on the gravelly sound to his voice once you were able to ignore his smooth, broad chest.

"Did you just wake up?"

He shrugged and gave you half a smirk while he held the door open.

"Worked late."

"Ah," you replied, gaze dropping to the porch while you rocked back and forth on your heels. Work.

"You comin' in or not? I'm lettin' flies in."

"Uh, sure," you finally decided, sneaking past him, purposely holding your breath so you wouldn't breathe in his intoxicating scent.

His front door opened into his living room, which was about how you expected it to look: a dark couch with a matching chair surrounding a glass coffee table in front of a big screen TV with green and blue plastic clamshell video game cases scattered on the floor.

"Want somethin' to drink?" he asked, brushing past you as he ambled into his kitchen. You followed, noting his house seemed to lack... something.

"Water's fine."

It was bare. That's what it was. It hit you when you were in the kitchen. He had all the essentials but there was no warmth, no decorations, no pictures.

"Did you just move in?" you asked, then thanked him when he handed you a bottle of water.

"'Bout three months ago."

"Oh," you replied before taking a slow sip of water, your eyes darting around the sparse kitchen. "It's nice," you finally said when you pulled the bottle from your lips.

At least you could be sure he wasn't living with a girl. His home practically screamed bachelor pad.

"Thanks. How's your ma?" he asked before picking up a half drank mug of coffee.

You leaned against the kitchen counter and crossed your arms. "She's good. She's already found a new boyfriend. And here I thought I was doing her a favor by moving in and keeping her company," you said with a soft laugh. "Now I feel like I'm in the way of her exciting social life."

Joel nodded and sat down at the kitchen table with a grunt, his legs spread wide as he leaned back into the chair.

"Been meanin' to apologize to you," he said, staring down at his coffee sitting on the table. "Shoulda been there to help you move out, or at least say bye. I'm real sorry 'bout that."

That took you by surprise.

"You don't have anything to apologize for," you said immediately with a shake of your head. "It would have been too painful, anyway."

Joel took a deep breath through his nose. "Yeah, reckon that's why I bailed that day."

Neither of you said anything for a moment, both of you thinking back to that week when everything fell apart.

"I'm so sorry for what I did to you, Joel," you said quietly. He frowned and looked up.

"What you did to me?"

"Yeah. For pulling you into my mess and hurting you. It was never my intention, but I recognize it was my fault. I started it. I kissed you. I came to your room that day. It's all on me, okay?" You looked at him with raw pain in your eyes and he sighed.

"Darlin', if you didn't start it, I would've. It ain't all on you," he told you softly.

You nodded and you felt tears welling up in your eyes, so you dropped your gaze to the floor and pressed your lips into a thin line, trying to stifle your emotion, but Joel could see it.

"It was fun while it lasted though, huh?" he joked, then grinned when you laughed and swiped away a stray tear.

"Yeah," you sniffled with a smile.

Joel pursed his lips and looked back down at his mug, his middle finger gently tracing the lip of the ceramic when he asked, "you seein' anyone?"

You shook your head. "No. I think it's probably best I take some time to work on myself first."

The same question for him was on the tip of your tongue but you couldn't bring yourself to ask because if the answer was yes, you weren't sure you were ready to hear it.

"Well, anyway," he said with a slap to his thighs, "everythin' ready for tomorrow? Need me to do anythin'?"

You smiled and shook your head. "Just handle the guys and I'll handle the girls. I have all the money to pay the limo bus driver. Did you have enough for the booze?"

"Mhm, no problem there," Joel said after taking a sip from his now lukewarm coffee.

The goal was to bar crawl some local spots in downtown Austin and in between, party on the limo bus.

"Just make sure to have a good playlist ready so we can connect to the speakers on the bus," you told him as you headed for the front door.

"Y'leavin'?" he asked, getting up to follow you. You shrugged and slid your shoes back on.

"Yeah, unless there was something else?"

He scratched his beard while he struggled to come up with anything that might make you stay. It just felt too nice to have you around again and he didn't want it to end.

"No, nothin' else," he finally said. "See you tomorrow."

Back to the scene of the crime, you almost let slip, but fortunately common sense kicked in and said, "Tommy and Maria's, 8pm so you can help me pack up the bus before everyone arrives."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, leaning against the doorframe as he watched you jog down his porch steps, tossing one more wave over your shoulder before getting into your car. As he watched you drive away, he tried to stifle that familiar, desperate feeling he always felt whenever you left and forced himself to go back inside.

The party bus was already wild before it reached the end of the street. You just sat down after passing around Jell-O shots and making sure the snacks and waters you brought were readily available to the entire bus when Maria shoved a solo cup in your hand.

"What's this?" you asked over the roar coming from the speakers blaring AC/DC and the guys screaming along to the lyrics after they all did a toast to Tommy, throwing back shots of tequila.

"Jungle juice!" she replied with a grin. You took a sip and raised your eyebrows in surprise.

"Not bad!"

The lights on the bus dimmed and you looked up to find Joel playing around with the knobs at the front of the bus. Suddenly, brightly colored lights that lined the floor and roof of the bus turned on, painting everyone in a red glow that faded to orange then to all the colors of the rainbow.

"Come on, Tommy! Show us what you got!" one of Maria's bridesmaids yelled when Tommy stood up and leaned on the stripper pole in the middle of the floor for support when the bus took a turn.

"I ain't drunk enough yet, ladies!" he replied with a lopsided grin. Joel chuckled as he made his way back to his seat.

"What about you, Joel?" she asked, then all the groomsmen began whooping and pumping their fists, encouraging him, but he shook his head and sat down.

"Gotta pay me extra for that," he smirked. He brought his beer to his lips and glanced briefly in your direction before looking away.

The whole bus was wearing matching white shirts with Tommy and Maria's names printed on the back with the date of their wedding and a note at the bottom that, depending if you were a girl or a guy, said if found, please return me to the bride/groom.

On the front of the shirts was a big box where everyone could tally all the drinks and shots they had that evening with the sharpie necklaces you handed out as everyone boarded the bus. So far, most people had at least one drink or shot under their belts.

"Alright, who wants to play Tipsy Hoe?" you called out while holding up a stack of index cards. The bus cheered so you began to explain the rules. "We pick one card with a specific word on it that nobody's allowed to say. The person who says it first has to take a shot and then we pick another one."

Another of Maria's bridesmaids eagerly volunteered to pick the first card. You fanned them out as she carefully chose one from the middle and read it. "The word is Bride!" she announced, and half the bus collapsed into laughter.

"Take a shot, you can't say it! Just hold it up!" you giggled when she laughed and buried her face in her hands. "Okay, go again."

After taking a shot and drawing another tally mark on her shirt, she picked another card and this time, held it up for everyone to see: dress.

"What's that say? I can't read it?" Joel teased from the back, and she stuck out her tongue.

"Ha ha, not falling for it."

You sat back down and took a sip from your cup before leaning into Maria's side to take a few selfies only for them to come out completely blurry from the dim lighting, but you saved them anyway.

Joel brushed past the two of you to go to the front of the bus and direct the driver on where to drop the group off for the first bar, and as the bus slowed down, most people chugged the rest of their drinks and added a mark to their shirts before standing up and filing out the door.

"Jesus, Tommy, when'd you have four drinks?" Maria asked when she saw his shirt. He grinned and draped an arm around her shoulders.

"What can I say? The guys can be persuasive."

"Hey, don't you know that girl over there?" Joel asked when he suddenly appeared at your side with a cigarette hanging from his lips. He pointed over to a group of three girls standing right outside the bar with sparkly outfits on and heavy eyeshadow.

"Which one?"

"The one in the blue."

"The blue top or the blue dress?"

He smirked and shot you a wink before taking a deep drag of his cigarette. You groaned and slapped your palm to your face.

"I can't believe I fell for that."

He laughed, a plume of smoke rolling from his lips, then tossed the cigarette on the ground. "C'mon, I'll buy you the shot."

"It's the least you could do," you teased, following him inside past the bouncer. The bar was dark and really fucking loud as you weaved your way through the throngs of sweaty people until Joel managed to squeeze his way to the bar and flag down a bartender. While you waited for your drinks, you tried to locate the rest of the group, but the only people you saw were Maria and Tommy down at the other end of the bar with one other groomsman you didn't know very well.

"Bottoms up," Joel told you after handing you the shot and a mixed drink. You winced when you tossed it back, then handed him the empty glass. He pushed it back across the sticky bar along with his own empty shot glass then pointed to your shirt.

"Ah, right," you mumbled before uncapping the sharpie around your neck and scribbling a tick mark on the fabric. Joel stretched his own shirt out and you hesitated for just a second before drawing a quick mark on his shirt and tried not to focus too much on the sweat that had soaked through the collar already.

"You stayin' at Tommy and Maria's tonight?" he asked. He brought a bottle of beer to his lips and took a long sip but didn't take his eyes away from you.

"Yeah, I can't imagine driving home at this rate," you replied while motioning to your shirt with your free hand. He nodded and let his eyes drift around the room behind you, head nodding slightly to the beat of the music before he said, "Maybe we can watch a movie. Like old times."

You raised your eyebrows in surprise. "You're staying over, too?"

He nodded again and took another drink as your heart fluttered nervously in your chest. Maria conveniently failed to mention he was planning on staying the night, as well. Where the hell did she expect you both to sleep when there was only one couch?

You scanned the bar and found her laughing at something Tommy was saying, waving his hands around dramatically as he told some story. Narrowing your eyes, you hoped she could feel the heat from your stare, but of course she was oblivious.

Just as you were about to reply to him about the movie, you felt someone's arm snake around your waist right before their overpowering cologne made you gag.

"You wanna dance?" a voice slurred in your ear, and you immediately twisted away from his sour breath and turned to face him. He wasn't with your group, just some other patron, and he looked completely wasted. A thin sheen of sweat covered his neck and face and his eyes looked glassy as he stared down at you, waiting for an answer.

"Uh, no thank you! I was just leaving."

"Aw, come on, just one dance?" the stranger pushed with a lopsided grin but it just made him look even more sloppy.

"She's with me," Joel said defensively before tugging you closer and tucking you under his arm. You could smell his deodorant and soap and it instantly transported you back in time to the point where you had to fight the urge to bury your face against his chest and breathe deep.

"My bad," the guy said, raising his hands defensively before walking away.

"Thanks," you said so softly you weren't sure he could hear you over the music, but he did. He dropped his arm and cleared his throat as you tried to create a bit of space between you again without being awkward, but it was hard to do.

"I hope you don't feel like you can't dance with other guys 'cause I'm here," he said.

"No, I know, I'm just not looking for... that right now," you assured him before taking a long sip from your drink and glancing around the bar.

"Right, you mentioned that," he replied. The topic of your love life caused a heavy silence to settle between you even though you were surrounded by noise. Right when you were about to make an excuse and leave, he spoke again.

"How's all that goin', by the way? Therapy?"

"It's... going okay," you said. What was he getting at?

He tossed back the rest of his beer and slid the empty across the bar.

"Okay enough to start datin' again soon?"

You swallowed nervously. Was he asking for a specific reason?

The look on your face made him switch gears because he grinned and shrugged. "Friends ask 'bout each other, right?"

Oh.

"They do."

He nodded, his smile faltering a moment when his gaze slid to your lips before he forced himself to look away. "C'mon, let's find the rest of the party." Then he took your hand and led you through the crowd.

Stop it, get it together, he's just being nice, like you asked, you told yourself. But you really, really hoped you were wrong.

"Here's some extra pillows and blankets," Maria sang gleefully with a shit eating grin.

"I can't believe you," you seethed quietly so Joel wouldn't hear you from downstairs.

"What? I forgot Tommy told Joel he could stay over," she said with a tipsy shrug.

"I'm half tempted to call an Uber."

"Don't you fucking dare. Now be an adult and go sleep with your ex," she giggled, giving your shoulder a shove to make you move towards the direction of the stairs.

"Hilarious," you replied dryly, but before you took another step she pulled you into a hug.

"Thank you so much for tonight, we had such a," she hiccuped before pulling away, "great time."

You blew her a kiss before giving her the finger. "Love you."

"Love you, too!" she practically shouted, and you turned around halfway down the stairs to shush her. She slapped her hands over her mouth and giggled before stumbling into her bedroom and shutting the door.

"Wha' the hell was she shoutin' for?" Joel asked groggily from his spot splayed out on the couch, remote control hanging limply from his fingers as he blinked at the TV, trying to clear his vision.

"Nothing. Here," you said, tossing him a pillow and blanket. He reached out to catch them but missed, then started to giggle when he accidentally slid from the couch onto the floor to pick them up. You grinned and threw yours on the other end of the couch and wandered into the kitchen, returning with two bottles of ice cold water. "Drink this," you said with a yawn. He took it and you plopped down on the other end of the couch while Joel flicked through title after title on one of the many streaming services Tommy and Maria had.

While Joel continued to browse, you shifted uncomfortably before setting down your water and reaching behind you to unclasp your bra. With practiced ease, you pulled it out from under your shirt without having to remove any clothes and tossed it on the floor. Joel's eyes widened when he saw it and looked at you.

"Don't get any ideas, I just can't sleep in a bra."

He smirked before picking a romcom and settling in under his blanket. "Next you gonna tell me you can't sleep with panties on?"

You snorted and felt your cheeks flush but thankfully the lights in the living room were off, leaving only the glow from the television to light the room.

"You wish."

The alcohol was making both of you way flirtier than you intended to be, so you shut up. You watched the movie hazily for a while, laughing softly at Hugh Grant's charismatic humor. It was quiet for so long that you had assumed Joel fell asleep until he suddenly spoke again.

"This's nice."

You rolled your head to the side and smiled at him. "Yeah, it is."

He smiled back, his eyes bright from the glow from the television, cheeks still a little pink from the booze as he looked you up and down. "C'mere."

You pinched your eyebrows together. "Why?" you asked slowly. He rolled his eyes and waved you over.

"Jus' get your ass over here."

With a sigh, you scooted over to his end of the couch and once you got close enough, he threw his arm around your shoulders and pulled you into his side. You let out a quiet oof when the side of your face came in contact with his chest, but god the way he smelled had you reeling for the second time that night. Even with the lingering scent of cigarette smoke and spilled liquor, he still smelled amazing. He smelled like him. A comforting smell you missed so much in the past five months that it almost hurt to have it back again.

His hand gently stroked your back as you watched the movie. The steady thrum of his heart beating against your ear combined with the alcohol and his warmth made your eyelids droop and before you knew it, you were out like a light. When Joel realized you were asleep, he looked down at you and smiled before turning off the television and slowly rotating you both so you were laying (albeit, scrunched) together along the couch. His arm remained wrapped around you and your face was buried against his chest with one of your legs draped over one of his and everything finally felt right again.

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#joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel the last of us #joel miller fanfic #joel tlou #joel miller tlou #joel x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us au #roommates fic

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stevieschrodinger · 8 months ago

Text

Everything is going slowly foggy. The fear is fading. Eddie's vaguely aware that it's probably because he's dying. What was terrifying a couple of minutes ago, is only vaguely of interest now. An ephemeral pressure on the back of his brain. Present, yet easy to ignore.

All he can taste is his own blood, but it's not so bad. At least he can tell Dustin how much he loves him. And Steve's there. Steve Harrington. Who knew he would turn out to be such a great guy? So, yeah. It all feels alright.

Eddie feels sleepy, vaguely aware that he's, actually, probably dying.

He closes his eyes.

There's a strange sense of vertigo, strange enough that Eddie notices he's standing up before he notices that someone's kissing him. It's a soft press of lips. It's wonderful.

Eddie blinks his eyes open, and from an inch away, he's looking at Steve Harrington.

He's standing in a kitchen. it's nice. Eddie's clean; he's wearing sweats and a tee. Barefoot. The kitchen smells like coffee, and sun is shining in through the window.

Somewhere in the house, a child sequels; Eddie startles. "Steve?" He asks, carefully. "I mean...not that it isn't-"

The child comes barreling into the room. It's a little girl. She's wearing the smallest Dio shirt Eddie's ever seen. She throws herself at Eddie's legs, screaming "Papa!"

Eddie has no idea what his face is doing as he looks down at this little girl, but Steve is taking his hand, tugging it, Eddie looks up, "it happened again, didn't it? You forgot again?"

"I...what?"

Steve scoops up the little girl, throwing her over his shoulder, she squeals again, laughing like this is the best thing ever, "come on pumpkin patch, Papa's not feeling so hot today and auntie Robin's going to be here in two whole minutes."

He looks back to Eddie, mouthing 'just wait, okay?'

Eddie, at a loss, just nods.

He creeps to the doorway, watching, fascinated, as Steve Harrington fixes the little girls hair into pig tails. Helps her get her socks straight. Helps her tie the laces on her sneakers. Gets her back pack on her, "eat your carrot sticks today, okay Ronnie?"

'Ronnie,' Eddie mouths to himself.

Watches as Steve puts her little hand into Robin's, standing on the front porch. Robin looks different. Older. She's smartly dressed.

Steve whispers something to her, and she looks at Eddie. Smiles a sad smile. They leave.

Steve stands there for a moment, waves them off, then closes the door. He seems to steal himself, and then he turns and comes back to Eddie, "I have to go to work, but, come on, let me show you something."

Eddie follows Steve into an office, there's shit everywhere, "I don't come in here often, your mess drives me fucking batshit," Steve digs into a desk drawer, brings out a notebook. "I have no idea what's in here, I've never read it. Something about...what happened. You did die. You were oxygen deprived long enough to cause a brain injury, so sometimes you...forget everything. After the second time it happened, you started writing letters to yourself. So, yeah...you call it your instruction manual, I get it for you when this happens."

It takes Eddie what feels like a really fucking long time to process this, and he can't help but notice that Steve's eyes are wet, Eddie feels crushingly guilty about it.

"Okay so what do I...do?"

Steve shrugs, "read it, I guess. You add to it whenever anything important happens...Eddie...just, the bats, they did a number on you...when you, when you look at the scars, the first time, just, brace yourself, okay and...don't forget that I love you, no matter what, I love you."

And Steve just...leaves the house. Leaves Eddie in this absolute disaster of an office. Leaves him holding a notebook that's ratty and untidy and feels like it's bursting at the seams.

Eddie reads.

So, I'm going to try and keep this simple, but I'm you, from the past, and our dumb ass has fucking brain damage...

You're not going to fucking believe this...we bagged Steve Harrington...

Hold on to your hat big boy, but we got fucking published! And if you're reading this, then you are in for a treat, because it means you get to read our genius for the first time all over again...

Okay, so this one was a bad one, we initially, didn't react so well, so, here's what I was worried about, and I'll talk you through it...

So, I need you to not fuck this up for us, okay? So, this is the Steve Harrington play book. The man is romantic, buy flowers, do nice shit. I cannot stress this enough - just pick up your crap man, he hates it when the place is messy. Now, we have to get it right so here's everything I know, I'll start at the top and work down. He loves having his hair played with, and tugged, but not too hard, gentle but firm, there's a sweet spot. The neck, the whole thing is an erogenous zone, I really can't downplay the importance of the neck...

We bought a fucking house! Look at it! Just look at it! And Eddie does, because there's a Polaroid stuck to the page.

So, this might sound dumb, and I probably should have written to you sooner, but...Steve jizzed in a cup for Robs, and Nancy turkey basted it, you know. Anyway, the point is...Rob's pregnant. With our baby. And then me and Nance got drunk, like, to celebrate, and she got all sad that her and Robin weren't having a baby, stay with me, I know this is mad as shit, but Nancy wanted our kid and their kid to grow up together....

Look, I don't know if it's the stress of like, imminent fatherhood, but we've been forgetting a lot lately, so, here's the plan for when Rob's in labor, and everything you've talked to Steve about when it comes to being the stay at home parent, okay...

The next page is just a Polaroid, a little scrunched up face. A little pink potato swaddled in blankets, and underneath it says 'Ronnie Jamie Harrington'...

And the next page, another Polaroid, another scrunched up face, another little pink potato swaddled in blankets, and underneath it says 'Stephanie Edwina Wheeler'...

Steve comes home. He looks exhausted. Like, drained. And, worried and scared and pale and lots of other things Eddie can't even begin to imagine. Eddie holds his arms out and Steve practically throws himself into them, "how long does it take, for me to get back to normal?"

Steve shrugs, "it's different every time, but it's a good sign you're still here, sometimes you run. Those times are the worst ones."

Six weeks later, Eddie writes to himself, "do not, under any circumstances, run away..."

Eddie thinks he's seeing things. Thinks maybe he's going senile. But he hasn't forgotten for...well, it's been years now. At least seven or eight. And yeah, Ronnie might be about to finish high school and Steve might be stressed to fuck over her college applications, but...Eddie's glad. He's glad she's spreading her wings. He's glad they managed to produce a stand up human being.

He's really glad her and Steph are trying for the same colleges, they're always going to have each other.

But yea...he's worried his mind is kind of...slipping. Hasn't told Steve. Doesn't want to worry him. They're both sprouting a few gray hairs, no need to add to those.

But sometimes. Sometimes when Eddie looks out of the window, he thinks, for a moment, that the sky is dark and...it looks like snow?

And sometimes, Eddie catches himself in the mirror, and he's sure he's dirty. A mess. Covered in blood but...no. He walks back a step, checks again. Everything is fine.

Sometimes he's sees movement out of the corner of his eye.

Sometimes, in the beat of the music or the rumble of the car engine, he swears he hears things. Sometimes a voice. Sometimes it sounds like they're yelling.

Sometimes it sounds like Steve.

And once, he blinked awake, Steve bringing him a coffee. But it wasn't Steve, for the time between startled, half asleep blinks, it was Vecna.

It gets worse.

Something isn't right. The house is empty, and it shouldn't be.

He can hear Steve, but he can't find him. And that's silly because the house isn't that big. He searches and searches, growing more frantic. He calls back to Steve, but Steve...doesn't seem to hear him.

There's something dim about the light, but the light has always been that way, hasn't it? Something...dusty, in the air. Eddie feels like he's dreaming. He has to be dreaming; there's a crack in the living room wall. A crack that spreads and lengthens until the whole house is crumbling and Eddie can see clearly now that the sky here flashes red.

That it's always been flashing red.

How did he not see before? The dust on every surface? The pages of his notebook are blank. Eddie knows. He's always known.

Steve.

Steve is here. He's hanging from Eddie's fist, bruised and bloodied and begging Eddie. Begging Eddie to stop this, to hear him, to see him. It's Steve.

It's Eddie's Steve.

Next to him, Vecna says, "finish it."

Eddie has something in his hand, the hilt of something he's sure of, long and sharp and dependable.

Eddie doesn't think, he just moves.

He drops Steve.

He doesn't need to look. Eddie turns, and he swings.

Part Two

#eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie #pre getting together #sort of #my writing #robin buckly #ronance #nancy wheeler #kas eddie munson #vecna #steddie dreamed life

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