#my father is in my life don’t worry guys

[juniperskye]

You’ll Get What’s Coming.

POTENTIAL TLOU SPOILERS!!! This is just a lil blurb about your reaction to Joels death. With all the images coming out of Pedro in season two…I’ve been mentally preparing myself and this came to mind!

Joel Miller x Fem Reader

Word count: 553

REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, Fem reader, major character death, murder, canon typical violence. Explicit language, let me know if I missed any!

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

Okay…So imagine you showed up with Ellie to witness Joel’s death. You’re being held down by members of Abby’s group. Thrashing around as hard as you can to get free in hopes of saving Joel.

“STOP! PLEASE STOP! LET US GO!” You plead.

“You’re gonna fucking die! Ellie screams.

“Kill me instead! Let him go!” You offer.

Abby shakes her head, having already made her choice. When Owen barges in demanding they get out of there. He worried that the rest of Jackson is going to come searching for you guys and likely kill them. They aren’t exactly wrong to worry.

“Let him go. Let him go!” Ellie begs.

--

“You’re done.” Owen growls.

“You want what I want, right?” Abby counters.

“End it. Now.” Owen concludes.

Everyone takes a tentative step away, Abby tightens her grip on the golf club, tears stream down your face as you prepare for the worst.

“Joel get up…Joel, fucking get up. Please stop! Please don’t do this…Joel, please get up!”

“Joel! Baby please you have to get up! Please let us go! Joel!”

With that Abby raises the golf club and brings it down. Successfully killing her target.

“NOOO!” Ellie cries.

“JOELLLL!” You’re sobbing at this point. “You fucking bitch! I will kill you!”

--

For reasons you will never understand, Abby let Tommy, Ellie, and you go that day. Since then, you have made it your life’s mission to track her down and kill her. Tommy was right there with you despite Maria’s protests.

“I got some intel…we might have Abby’s location.” Tommy informed you.

“Good! When do we leave?”

“First thing.” He stated.

“Are you sure you want to do this? Ellie asks.

“I’m positive. She took everything from me, and I am going to make sure she get’s hers in the end.” You said with finality.

--

Tommy’s intel had proven right. You had managed to track Abby down. The two of you had discussed your plan which was to kill everyone who was involved that day and when you found her, Tommy knew to let you pull the trigger. Joel may have been his brother, but he was your everything and he could understand that feeling.

“Ready?” Tommy asked.

“As I’ll ever be.”

The two of you made your way through the compound they’d taken over. Slowly but surely taking them out one-by-one. You were making your way down a long corridor when you heard voices, a man and a woman…you assumed it had to be Abby and Owen. They sounded frantic, trying to plan their escape from your tirade.

Tommy kicked the door in and immediately fired a shot at Owen. He dropped to the floor; Tommy made his way over to him and you stepped in behind Tommy. He was quick to fire another shot to Owen’s head.

You held your gun up in front of you, pointing it directly at Abby.

“Please! You have to understand! He killed my father. My only family!” Abby tried to gain sympathy.

“Your father was trying to kill an innocent child.” You spat.

“He was trying to save us!”

“And Joel was trying to save Ellie. Her life isn’t less significant than anyone else’s.” You explained.

“Please! He was my father!” Abby pleaded.

“And Joel was my husband.” You spoke, pulling the trigger.

[rinstaro]

Time can slut me tf out frfr lmao so u kno the post u made abt time ans reader having tension???? What if u flipped it so time was goin after the reader. Like u jus be chillin choppin some veggie and he comes up n starts feelin u up??

ahahaha i think i favor time now because i’ve been writing him?? he started speaking to my daddy issues and good god are they listening 🤭 he’s so djdjxjsk SLUT ME OUT!!!!!!! PLEASE!!!!!!!

cw: time should be a warning on his own. what a man! i don’t know how far i wanna write yet. hmmmm. touchie feelies, choking so slight it’s not even there, time is a hair puller, and a fiend, biting, reader has a vagina no pronouns, i spend far too long detailing how horny he is for u

minors do not interact.

it was moments like this where time realized he didn’t have as much self control as he thought. could you really blame him? you always looked adorable, even more so when you wore his shirts like you are now. but the hickeys on your neck and thighs that had almost faded were dragging his thoughts into the gutter.

he’d ravaged you only a couple days prior, your legs so weak you couldn’t even stand. it was lovely to have him pamper you for a couple days, but you were his oh so strong and independent spouse. when you could walk again, you insisted on cooking and cleaning for him the same way he did you. time insisted it was fine but you were much more stubborn than him. the conversation hadn’t even lasted a minute.

“i’m fine.”

“i don’t mind cooking for us again, you can rest some more until tomor—“

“zip it. i’m cooking tonight and you will love every bite.”

and so he was banished to the kitchen table to watch you prepare dinner. he couldn’t say he didn’t like the view, though. perhaps a bit too much.

you felt a body behind you, flinching only slightly before relaxing again. “hi, dear.” “hello, love.” time wrapped his arms around your waist, sitting his head on your shoulder. “those carrots are cut a little thick, no?” he murmured in your ear.

“hey, i have a knife,” you huffed. he laughed softly, heart fluttering at even the smallest bit of attention you give him. he silently watched you a while longer before his eyes drifted down to your hands. he adored them.

they were the same hands that were holding onto his shoulders for dear life the other night.

time really thought you were just so cute. he stood up a bit, going to observe the faded marks on your neck. unable to resist, he leaned back down to nip at one, causing you to yelp and furrow your brows. “hey,” you urged, you’re lucky i’m done chopping. what if you distracted me and i cut myself, huh?”

“i’d kiss it better and you’d never have to lift a finger again.”

you roll your eyes, getting your seasonings down from the shelf. whatever smart remark you had for him quickly faded when he gave a nice squeeze to your backside. instead of responding, you huffed once more and continued your task. time let out a small hum, displeased with your lack of response. “you really should just let me take care of you.”

you attempted to season your vegetables, only to halt when time traced his hands up your body. he went from your waist to your stomach, all the way up to your chest. his hands stopped around the base of your neck, thumbs rubbing circles on your collarbone. your breathing only got shakier when his mouth replaced his hands. he grabbed your waist once more and pulled you flush against him, sucking fresh hickeys into your neck.

your hands gripped his, your form starting to tremble. you continued to try and be stubborn, biting your lip when small whines escaped. time traced his hands down your arms before grabbing the seasonings out of your hands and placing them on the counter.

his hands went back to work, one reaching under your shirt to play with your nipple, and the other coming to lightly tug on your hair, pulling your head to the side for more access to your neck. this time, he bit down hard. your knees buckled and you unconsciously pressed back into him, whimpering louder than you would have liked to admit.

you finally come to your senses to wriggle out of his arms, turning around and crossing your own arms in front of your chest.

“you must really not want to eat tonight,” you chided. your husband only gave you a lazy grin in response. he suddenly hoisted you up, quickly carrying you over to the table. you squealed, arms flailing and wrapping around his neck. he sat you down, spreading your legs wide. how cute. you weren't even wearing underwear.

“i think i'll be just fine, dear." without another word he dove into your sopping cunt, his tongue leaving no spot untouched. you threw your head back, letting your moans out freely. dinner could wait, he thought. he'd been craving you all day.

sure, he could go for a comforting meal after a long day, but he’s far more comforted by your thighs clamping around his head.

[eddiernunson]

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He melts. “Sure.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Payback?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Eh, ten.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Absolutely!”

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Um Chrissy. Chrissy Cunningham?”

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

“She asked you out?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We’ll do it on Saturday, yeah?”

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

Your heart shatters. “That good?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s such a cool girl, you know?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure.”

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

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

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

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

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

That, and it’s right beside Steve Harrington.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hesitate. “Is this a trick question?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because it turned into hell.

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Right?

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes please!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Where she’s a friend.

You have to try.

“What are we watching?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hawkins looks a lot different from Eddie’s backseat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She nods.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“When did you start coming?”

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

“Why didn’t you want to go?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hmm?”

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

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

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

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

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

That was when you changed from sweetheart to slugger.

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sweet.”

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

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

“Oh,” she mutters, curling into him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. He’s not going to.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

You shrug. “It’s fascinating.”

“To who?”

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

“Any plans upcoming for next Wednesday?”

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

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

That, you agree with.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey. How was the cupcake?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…that never happened.

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another sip. Another gulp. Make it go away.

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

Daniel.

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

“Retribution.”

“Huh?”

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

What the fuck?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He stands there, blankly watching.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anything after that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eddie.

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

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

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

“Is that all?”

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

That’s why your breath tastes like vomit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s me.”

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

-

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

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

You would think.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck this guy. Fuck him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That conversation goes as well as can be expected.

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

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

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

“Is she okay?”

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

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

“Physically?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Should Eddie have called the ambulance?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Excuse me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

“Do you wanna come over for a movie?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh, three movies. Pick one.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

He’s more than willing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Probably.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What was that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mm, almost there, baby.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cum–cum in me, Eds. Fill me up.”

“Fuck-you, y’sure?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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[eddiesxangel]

Never Have I Ever… | E.M x Virgin!Reader

TJ’s 2K Request celebration!

@nailbatanddungeon : “I have a request for youuu. Okay, this is Eddie x Virgin!reader, reader is still new to everything, but there is one thing that the reader needs but is scared to push because the reader is TOUCH STARVED (So am I)”

Cw: reader and Eddie are in their mid to late 20’s, touch starved virgin!reader, angst, fluff, alcohol, throwing up(too much alcohol consumption), hangovers, fingering, oral (f receiving), p in v, protected sex. Friends to lovers

WC: 3.1k

I hope you enjoy!! 💗

“You’ll get there; you’re just a late bloomer, is all”

A late bloomer, you’ve heard it your whole life- and you’re sick of it. Sick of feeling behind in life? You’re in your twenties now and getting absolutely shit-faced because you’ve never done anything in this game of never have I ever.

You, Nancy, Steve, Eddie, Robin, Jonathan, and a few others were at the block party, and you somehow ended up involved in the juvenile game.

“Never have I ever kissed the same gender,” you drank.

“Never have I ever dumped anyone,” you drank.

“Never have I ever smoked weed,” you drank.

“Never have I ever said the wrong name in bed.” That’s rich because you’ve never been in a bed with anyone to begin with.

You hadn’t relized how much you’ve had to drink until you stood up.

“Woah, you okay?” You hear Nancy speak as you wobble.

You had wanted to get up and get more to drink because, unlike the others, your cup was empty.

“Yeah.” You tried to get out, but it sounded more like a grunt to the others.

Ignoring their protests, you stumbled your way back to the kitchen, feeling sorry for yourself.

You fumble with the lid of the hard liquor bottle until a strong ring-clad hand clasps over yours. You freeze, pissed off and embarrassed, knowing who the hand belongs to.

Even in your inebriated state, you get that same feeling whenever he is around you. You feel the heat in your cheeks instantly as the butterflies in your stomach irrupts.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Sweetheart.”

You look down, not wanting to see the look on his face.

“I don’t care” you slur. God, you will hate yourself in the morning.

Of all people, it had to be Eddie to come and check on you?

That’s how he was—always worried, always babying you because you “weren’t experienced in life,” according to his words, and it made you mad! It made you seem like a child, and you were sick of people treating you as such. You were a grown woman, you had a 9:00-5:00, an apartment, and a degree, but none of that mattered—not when it came to dating and love.

“Sweetheart, please, you need to slow down.”

“Why?” You rolled your eyes. “I’m a big girl I can handle my alcohol.” You huffed.

“I just think— "

"IM TIRED OF WHAT YOU THINK!" you've had enough. No one took you seriously, and you couldn't help that Eddie happened to be the only one to feel your wrath.

"Woah, okay-okay, I’m sorry."

“I’m sick of everyone treating me like a child!" the dam broke, and streams of mascara fell down your cheeks.

"I don't think you're a child." Eddie timidly reached out his comforting hand.

"Yes, you do."

"When have— "

"ANY TIME WE ARE OUT, EDDIE! Like last week at the bar, I was so close to getting that guy's number and you swooped in acting like my father!"

"Sweetheart I—"

"Don't sweetheart me!" You cut him off once again. "It's demeaning."

"y/n. Let me take you home. We can talk about this tomorrow."

"I don’t want to."

"Too bad we are going." Eddie no longer gave you a choice. He took your hand and started to pull you along with him.

You stumbled, tripping over your feet because your balance was gone completely.

“Woah, see my point exactly.”

“Shut up.” You mumble, and Eddie can’t help but stifle a laugh. You were so cute.

Eddie didn’t mean to make you think you were juvenile…. He admired you and wanted to protect you; you were a woman to him, all women. He liked you; he really liked you. The only reason he swoops in is because he doesn’t want you with anyone who isn’t him, not because he doesn’t think you’re not capable… He dreams about how capable you can be. He just didn’t have the balls to say it to your face.

The thought of you not having any experience never even crossed his mind. He still had no clue you’d never been intimate with someone; he didn’t even know how inexperienced you were until the game. He watched and raised an unknowing brow each time you took a gulp.

Eddie took your keys from your hands and unlocked your front door for you. The whole car ride had been eerily silent. You didn’t dare speak a word without the threat of vomit coming up with it.

You silently stumbled into your home. Eddie followed closely behind. He helped you take off your sneakers. He led you to the bathroom and found some makeup wipes to help you take off your makeup, but halfway through, you turned to the toilet as the tequila made its way back up.

That’s when you broke; you were so embarrassed. “What’s wrong with me?” You cried.

“Nothing is wrong with you, swee-.” But he cut himself off, remembering that you scolded him earlier in the evening.

“Yes, there is something wrong with me! Nobody wants me.”

“That’s not true.” Eddie stroked the back of your head as you emptied out the contenders of your stomach into the porcelain bowl.

“Then why am I still a virgin?!” You sobbed.

Eddie was stunned, speechless. He had no idea. He just thought you didn’t like sharing your sex life, not that you didn’t have one.

So he let you cry into his chest. Your tears stained his shirt, but he didn’t care; he was here to take care of you.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” he guided you after he helped you ride your mouth out.

You crashed as soon as your head hit the pillow. Eddie thought of leaving but was worried you would need him if you woke up, so he took the couch.

You awoke with a throbbing pain pounding in your head. You were never drinking again. The night was murky; you started remembering bits and pieces but not everything. You get up and notice the bottle of painkillers and a glass of water you definitely didn’t put there.

Then you remembered Eddie bringing you home and let out an aggravated groan. How could you have been so messy? And in front of Eddie, out of all people? Why couldn’t Robin and Nancy bring you home? What did you say to him? Were you mean? Did you yell at him? You remember crying, but the reasoning was foggy.

You begrudgingly take the water and pills and almost gag, trying to get them down, but you manage. You also smell like a minibar, so you strip and walk to your bathroom.

After a long hot shower, you get dressed and must put some food into your empty stomach.

You walked past a sleeping Eddie, not seeing him curled up in the living room, and started noisily making yourself some breakfast.

“Is that the way you wake up all your guests?”

You screamed as you threw the fork you had in fright.

“Eddie, what the fuck?!” You clench your chest as you take big breaths to calm your racing heart.

“Sorry, Angel”

Angel… that’s new? It’s always been sweetheart.

“I didn’t know you stayed?”

“Yeah… you um. Were in pretty rough shape last night, I didn’t want you to be alone... so I slept in the couch. I hope that’s okay”

“Thank you, Eddie, I’m sorry I ruined your night.” You looked down, ashamed.

“You didn’t ruin it.” He shook his head.

“Well, I owe you one,” you giggle awkwardly. Eddie and you hardly ever hang out one-on-one.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like absolute shit.” You hand Eddie a black coffee.

“Yeah, well, you really went hard in that game of never have I ever.”

You met out a moan of embarrassment. Your memory came flooding back.

Mortification consumed you as you didn’t want to look Eddie in the eyes. You cried in his arms last night after you puked your guys out.

“Oh god”

“It’s okay, Angel. Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“What happened to sweetheart?” You tried to change the subject.

“You said it was demeaning…”

“Oh god, I did?” You peek up and see Eddie silently nod his head yes.

“I’m sorry, it’s not… I like the nickname. I just…. I was feeling so emotional last night, and the alcohol.” You tried not to gag at the thought.

“S’all good.” He shrugged. But he was replaced to hear you liked being called sweetheart. It suited you; he didn’t call anyone else that, either. It was reserved just for you.

“Um, so about last night, you mentioned nobody wanting you….” Oh god, was he really doing this now? “I don’t think that’s true.” Yes, he was.

“Huh?” You sit up, taking a sip of your coffee.

“You cried about how you didn’t think anyone wanted you, but it’s not true… I want you.”

Did you hear that right? Did you get water in your ears from the shower?

“You do?” Your eyes widen.

“Yeah,” he looks at you sheepishly.

“Oh?” You were in shock.

“Shit-I-I’m sorry, I ruined everything.” Eddie stood up, but you stood up with him, not wanting him to leave.

“No, Eddie, wait!” You grab his shoulder and turn him to face you. You couldn’t let him leave, not now.

“Sweeetheart, please let me be mortified in peace.”

“Kiss me.”

Eddie stares at you before you tell him one more time.

“Kiss me, Eddie.”

Then you feel his hands grip the back of your head and pull you in.

You didn’t think anything could cure your hangover but this comes pretty damn close.

You melt into his touch, his hands cup your head, your hands find his waist. It feels right, so right you think you’re floating.

No one had kissed you in what felt like years, and maybe it had been, but it was worth the wait.

Hands danced around one another’s bodies, and tongues and teeth clashed. It was messy; it was needy.

“Woah woah woah, sweetheart, hold on.” Eddie pulled back breathlessly.

“What’s wrong?” You look up at him, concerned…. Had he changed his mind?

“I think we should slow down.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Sweetheart, it’s okay. We have time.”

“No.” You shook your head. “I’ve waited long enough.”

“Sweetheart, I don’t think—"

"No! I need this, I want this." You look him dead in the eyes.

"You tell me if you want to stop, okay? Promise me."

"Okay, Eddie."

Eddie waists, not another second to take you in a feverish kiss. His hands roam your body, landing on your ass. It excites you so much you can feel the familiar tingling ruminating lower and lower.

You moan his name and press your whole body into his; you need to feel him, all of him… and you can. His hard cock is digging into your hip bone, and you connect your bodies.

Stumbling back without breaking the kiss, Eddie leads you to your bedroom. You fall backwards onto your bed with a gasp.

hovering above you is Eddie. You can see the lust behind his eyes as he scans your body.

"If im doing anything you don't like, tell me. This is about you, okay?"

“Okay,” you breathe as he lowers down to his knees. You watch his hands run up the tops of your thighs before spreading them wider so he can have access to where he wants you the most.

Running his fingers down your centre, you can’t help but moan at the feeling. You are greedy; you want to feel everything all at once.

Wasting no more time, you pull down the stretchy waistband of your pants and yank your underwear down with it. No time to be self-conscious- the need to feel Eddie fueled your desire.

“Beautiful,” Eddie whispered as he left a trail of kisses up your thigh, hovering just above your mound.

“Can I taste you?”

“Yes, please. Take care of me, I want it so bad,” You whine desperately. If you weren’t so horny, you’d be embarrassed by your words, but with Eddie, everything felt right.

Eddie’s lips latched into your soaked pussy, and you watched as his eyes rolled back in enjoyment. He didn’t hold back; he wanted this to be the best head of your life, even if it’s the only head of your life. You grip his hair in your fist, not expecting the pleasure to ripple through you so quickly.

“Taste so good, sweetheart; I wanna live in this pussy.”

“Oh god!” You cry as a single digit breaches your wanton hole.

Slowly, with his tongue and his finger pumping into you, you’re nearly there. Considering how long you’ve waited for this moment, it doesn't take much more. You’re cumming within minutes.

“Good girl, you okay?” he slaps the inside of your thigh and your body jerks.

“More,” you beg. It wasn’t enough; nothing would be able to satiate you until his cock was deep inside you.

“You sure? We can stop if you’re not ready”

“Need you now.” You grab him by the shirt collar and pull him towards you for a searing kiss.

“Okay,” he mumbles into your mouth, crawling up your body.

You loved the feel of his weight on top of you, consuming you with every kiss.

“Want you, Eddie” you moan as your hands toy with the hem of his shirt.

“You have me.” He dips his head lower to caress your throat with his lips.

Your breath hitches when you feel his teeth scrape across your soft, delicate skin.

Eddie didn’t lift his head until he was satisfied with the dark mark left on your neck.

When he unlatched from your throat, you demanded he take his clothes off.

Eddie loved your eagerness; he saw a spunk in you that he could only have dreamed of.

You also removed the rest of your clothing as he stripped.

When Eddie removed his last layer over his head, he couldn’t help but ogle your body, the way your head sunk into the pillows, your breasts, your soaked pussy on display for him. He was devouring you with his eyes.

You motion him to you with a single finger, breaking him out of the trace you put him under.

“God, you’re so beautiful.” Eddie was like a feline the way he crawled up on the bed to you.

The heat rushed to your cheeks; somehow, this felt more intimate than what he was doing between your legs a moment ago.

“I want you,” you repeat yourself.

Eddie cups your face, and you cup his in return. His eyes bore into your soul, leaving not a trace unturned as he searched your entire being before kissing you one more.

You moan into his mouth, and Eddie’s cock grazes your mound collecting your slick as his hips ground into you.

“Ready?” He asked desperately; he needed to be inside of you.

“Yes.”

He quickly got up and you moaned,

“What are you?- oh,” you blush

You see him reach for his pants pocket for his wallet as he pulls out a condom.

Quickly he rips it open, and your mouth waters as he rolls it over his cock. This is the first time you’re seeing what he looks like down there, and you’re getting nervous because how is that supposed to fit?

“Sweetheart? You'll be okay.” He smirks.

Cocky, shit.

“If I have to ask you again, I’m going to do this myself.” You huffed.

“Oh really? How do you suppose that?” He pounced back on top of you.

“I have my toys.”

Eddie’s head drops back. “We will get back to that later. Now I’m going to fuck you.”

“Finally”

Eddie doesn’t respond. He just slowly slides his cock through your slick folds collecting your natural lube before inching his way inside of you.

“I need you to relax, sweetheart.” You naturally clench around him. He was so tickled and long. Never had you felt so full, but little did you know Eddie was only a quarter-way in.

“Fuck you’re big,” you gasp.

“No need to stroke my ego, baby girl”

That made your pussy clench down again.

“Oh, you like that?”

You nod your head, yes, unable to speak.

“Noted”

You could kill him if he wasn’t making you feel so good.

“Eddie!” You scream as he finally reaches the hilt, gripping him like a koala you don’t want to let go.

“Fuck, this pussy is so tight” Eddie slowly works his hips in and out of you; with each thrust, you can feel his bush brush against your clit, and it sends a tingle down your spine.

You moan in response; everything feels like it is on fire; never had you expected this level of sex. No wonder everyone is obsessed with it.

“Harder”

“You sure”

“Yes, god yes!”

Eddie's hips snap into you with such force your head almost hits the headboard. The bed is rocking; you have never experienced something so wanted, so needed, so absolutely taken over by someone else.

“Eddie! Eddie! Eddie!” You chant his name, which only makes him go harder. His fingers dug into your hips, gripping you so hard, not ever wanting to let you go.

“Fuck me, this pussy s'good.” He spits through his teeth. His primal side is showing, and you can't get enough.

Nothing can again amount to this amount of pleasure; you're ruined for life.

"You close, baby girl?" Edie smirks when he feels you clamp don't on his cock when he spits out the words.

A guttural moan is unleashed from your throat in response because, god, you're so close.

The pressure building inside of you is about to burst as Eddie's calloused fingers find your sensitive clit.

"Come on baby, I know you gotta another one for me. I know you do."

Eddies words tipped you over the edge. Your body seized as his thick cock continued to pump into your greedy pussy. Your orgasm took over, and Eddie watched you silently scream for him.

Before you became overstimulated, Eddie also came shortly after, only a few more pumps, and he spilled himself into the condom.

With Eddie beside you huffing and puffing, you couldn't wipe the stupid grin off your face.

"That good, huh?"

"I don't want to stroke your ego, but yeah... fuck me" You hid your face.

"I just did." Eddie rolled over to kiss all over your face and you can't help but giggle.

"I hope we can do that again," you shy away.

"Oh, we are one thousand percent doing that again. "

Tagging some mooties: @littlexdeaths @xxbimbobunnyxx @voyeurmunson @rowanswriting @lofaewrites

@starkeysprincess @strangerstilinski @taintedcigs @mmunson86 @paybacksawitch @stardancerluv

[bee-wg]

Year 4:

Beep Beep Beep Beep

“Oh my god, uncle! You’re gonna burn the house down!” Theo yelled.

“David, What happened? Is your hand bleeding?” Mom screamed

“Ahahaha, it’s nothing Chloe, don’t worry about it. I was just trying to make everyone a surprise breakfast,” Dad said.

“It’s nothing? There’s fire on the stove!” Mom said frantically.

“I got the fire extinguisher, don’t worry. Just a little mishap,” Dad said, trying to cheer them up.

“Uncle, you’re bleeding all over the fire extinguisher! We need to get him to the hospital,” Theo said.

“Hahaha, I guess I am a little clumsy,” Dad said.

Beep Beep Beep

“Someone please turn off the fire alarm, it’s stressing me out,” Mom asked

“What’s happening?” I asked, half asleep in my Pajamas.

Sometimes life surprises you, one moment, you were having a sweet dream. Then, you’re driving your bleeding father to the hospital in Pajamas. The new SUV does feel nice to drive, at least.

“I’m fine, guys. I think it must be the sugar. If I would’ve put more in it, this wouldn’t have happened,” Dad said.

“David, I love you, but don’t you EVER pull stupid stunts like that again,” Mom said, leaning on Dad’s shoulder.

Apparently, Dad wanted to surprise us with waffles for breakfast and thank Mom for all the delicious food she made. He was also hungry for a snack, so he broke Mom's one rule: Don’t mess with her kitchen.

The doctor said he could remove the cast in two months, about the time Theo and I graduate. He already got an internship in a restaurant, bringing home some fancy leftovers. 

Mom has not let off her sight from Dad since we got back. She gave him a firm warning and pinched his cheek. Now Dad gets ice cream and meals delivered to his mouth without lifting a finger.

I wish someone would do that for me. Imagine not having to leave the bed and constantly having sweets in your mouth. That would be a dream.

My thoughts disturb me sometimes. 

Since winning the competition, I have accepted that I will never be muscular again. The original plan was to savour everything I could for a year, then go on a diet. Mom and Theo have slowed down with the food so that I won’t eat until my stomach is about to burst, but they won’t refuse if I ask for something.

Now I am close to 500 pounds with my stomach always growling for more. I guess it’s just another fat ass behaviour I would have to accept.

Since losing weight is out of the question, I have figured out a way to keep my core muscle fit enough to support the enormous belly in front of me. It’s simple, I stick an 8-inch dildo from Seven’s house to my chair, and I would sit on it when I’m playing video games or watching a movie. When the itch gets too much, I can use my core muscles to lift myself up and down. This way, I get to work out and get off. It's not good for the chair, but who cares? It’s reinforced.

***

It was a regular lunchtime when Brad broke into my house again. Usually, he would greet my parents and head straight upstairs to perform witchcraft for all I care, but today, his footsteps are leading to my door.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. Brad is the kind of asshole that does not knock. I still have the dildo in me!

I panicked and pulled up my pants before getting off the dildo.

He came in right as I flopped my belly down to cover the fact that my pants were not fully pulled up.

“Sup,” I said.

“Sup, Jay,” he reached out his fist for a bump.

“So, you know our last season of football in college just ended,” he said. 

Brad walked to my left to sit on my bed.

I rotate my seat to face him so he doesn’t see my ass hanging out in the back.

“Oh, fuck!” I yelped.

Fuck, the dildo twisted in the movement, now poking my prostate. 

“You okay, dude?” Brad asked.

“Of course, continue,” I said with the best smile I could muster.

“The guys are celebrating, so it’s like the last party for the team, and I was wondering if,”

“Okay, yeah, I’ll go,” I said quickly.

“Oh, that’s it? You usually don't like to go out or like- move at all,” he said, then stood up.

His sudden movement startled me, and the dildo jerked deeper.

“Are you sure you’re okay, dude?” Brad said, walking closer.

“I’m all good bruh, don’t worry,” I said.

I can feel my hole tensing, almost swallowing the dildo whole.

“I just don’t want you to be angry at me for fucking your cousin. If you want me to stop, I will,” he said.

“You what the who?” I said, baffled.

“I’m fucking,”

“Ew no, don’t tell me. I’m fine as long as you never mention doing that with my cousin ever again,” I said.

He let out a breath.

“Well, that’s something out of my chest. I’m going up now. I’ll come here and pick you up tomorrow night,” Brad said, rushing out the door.

I let out a breath too.

The locks will never be open after this traumatic experience.

My ass is still tingling, so I quickly fuck myself with the dildo to get over with it.

***

The drive to the house has been excruciatingly slow because Brad is a cautious driver. It leaves a lot of time to think without food distracting me.

I am now extremely aware of the bright yellow Pikachu face stretching across my belly. There aren't many clothes that fit me, and it’s been a while since I went out, so I didn’t bother buying new shirts. 

I haven’t seen them in a while. They’re gonna think I’m fucking lame.

“Dude, snap out of it. Everyone there misses you. I didn’t invite the assholes,” Brad said.

“…I guess.” 

“You’re doing the arm-scratching thing again, haven’t seen you doing that in a while,” Brad said.

“I’m going to put on some music, and you’re going to stop thinking, okay?” Brad added.

“Yeah, okay,” I replied.

When we opened the door, Marcus the quarterback greeted us, and half my worries melted away. 

He is about 300 pounds, which feels skinny to me now. At least I’m not the only fat one.

Now that I look into it, not everyone has defined abs. I don’t know why I expected everyone to be runway models. Even Brad is softer around the middle.

“Dude! Where have you been?” Aiden yelled.

“Oh shit, you look humongous, my guy,” Braxton said.

We quickly got back into the groove we had two summers ago.

Brad booted up a party game, and we tried our hardest to destroy each other.

We also caught up on what each of us was up to this past year, or what to do with our future. Aiden wants to marry his girlfriend, Marcus wants to join his boyfriend’s band, and Brad wants to be a freelance artist alongside his side job.

When the night came, They ordered some Chicken wings and pizzas.

“Fuck yeah, trash food! No more diet from Coach,” Aiden said, taking away half the pizza.

“By the way, I bought extra pizzas to see how much we can push ourselves,” Brad said.

I have a bad feeling about this.

“Of course, if it’s too much, we can always count on Jay,” Brad laughed.

There are six of us, with twenty large pizzas. I am screwed.

“It’s just some pizzas, no big deal. I can beat Jay easily,” Braxton, the most muscular guy in the group, said.

“Hahaha, don’t underestimate him, my dude,” Brad replied.

Except for Marcus, all of them are wimps. They started groaning and bitching after a few slices.

“Damn it, how do you make it look so easy,” Aiden asked.

“There’s a technique to it, dumb ass. I trained for this shit,” I answered.

Aiden then passed out from the food coma after six slices. 

Two more people soon followed after him.

Brad is on his way to his second pizza. His stomach has never looked this bloated before. Marcus is trying his hardest on his fourth one, but the guy is barely hanging on.

When the seventh pizza box emptied, I was stuffed beyond belief.

The guys woke up and refocused their energy on me to finish the rest.

“There’s only two left, people. Finish it,” I said, pointing at the boxes.

“We’re not on your level, Jay. You’re like, a pro at this,” Aiden said.

“Yeah, man. Only you can do it,” Brad said.

Braxton handed the pizza box over, and they started feeding me slice by slice.

“Come on Jay, you’re better than this,” Aiden said and rubbed my belly.

These people have no personal boundaries like always.

I am beyond capacity after the eighth one.

This was most likely a fucked up plan by Brad to show they don’t care I’m a fat ass. I still believed they wouldn’t like me because of my size until a few hours ago, now it seems ridiculous to reject all those party invites last year. Well, maybe I was up to something because now they’re trying to suffocate me with pizzas.

When Aiden stuffed the last of the slices in my mouth, everyone cheered.

Tonight was absurd, but I got my friends back. When some guys were not happy for a fat guy to be on the team, they stopped hanging out with me. I thought I was a lost cause.

“Dude, you better come back next time,” Aiden said.

“I’m gonna beat you next time, Jay. Watch it,” Braxton said.

“Awesome to have you back, man,” Marcus said.

It reminds me of that summer when we hung out by the river every time the fast food party room got too suffocating, when my worries were carried away by the water. 

“Thanks, Brad. For doing this,” I told him once we got in the car.

“No problem, I’m always here,” he answered.

I must have gotten too sentimental, or pizzas are clogging my brain, but I opened my Instagram and tabbed Recent in the search bar.

It seems like he made some new decorations for the coffee shop. 

I scrolled down to see the picture of the beach.

“Stop scrolling like a creep, Jay. Just call him,” he said.

“What?” I asked.

“He’s still waiting for that coffee,” Brad said.

“You still talk to Ave?” I asked.

“This is fucking depressing to watch, Jay. You guys were best friends,” he said.

“You know, I was kinda jealous of you guys back in the day. I was the skinny guy who got bullied on the side, and you were the guy on the team who still takes the time of day to befriend me. I only had you, and you also had him. It’s frustrating seeing you throw that away,” he finishes.

He doesn’t understand though. I’m a hypocrite who ignored Ave when he got fat. I don’t deserve his attention.

***

It’s been two weeks since our graduations and Dad getting his cast off. Mom has been working full-time, trying to figure out what we could do as a family to celebrate. It’s proven to be difficult when there are two 500-pound whales in said family. We can’t fit into any amusement park ride, and we’ll sink into the bottom of the ocean if we go to the beach. So, the rational thing to do is a picnic. At least that’s what I suggested. But Mom insisted a camping trip was the best family bonding option. For two whales.

It’s fine, I thought to myself. We have done this plenty of times.

After stuffing Dad in the front seat and the emergency food boxes in the back of the SUV. Mom explained the bags of medicines she bought like a flight attendant with the safety instructions. She must have been traumatized by Dad’s injury. He’s not allowed to do anything remotely dangerous, like moving his hand to eat. Hence, the army medical packs.

Mom went through the bottles of fox spray, bear spray, mosquito spray, sun spray and pepper spray, and then we finally got moving.

On our way there, we had some intermissions at the gas stations to replenish snacks. Theo whined it, but this was all his fault anyway.  If only he hadn’t grown our monstrous appetite, and forced musical soundtracks to be played in the car for hours, I might have skipped over a few snack breaks.

Recently, my weight has stabilized at about 520 pounds. Thank God my exercises on the chair worked; otherwise, I’m going to blow up on my way to the camp. 

“Guys, Brad said safe trip, and he’ll miss us,” Theo said.

“He probably only meant you,” I replied.

Theo has been giggling for an hour straight, looking at his phone.

“I’ll miss you, Bradley. The signal’s breaking off. See you soon!” Theo said.

We set up the camp in a few hours. By the time we were done, the sun had already set, giving the mountain an orange hue. 

Today we’re going up to Sunshore Lake. It’s going to be a steep walk, but I’m ready to flex my athletic prowess.

It was not a good sign that I was already sweating before arriving at the entrance.

“David, this is a bit steeper than I remembered. Do you guys want to stay down here?” Mom said.

“Nah. Jay and I will do it. This is a piece of cake compared to what we used to do. Right, son?” Despite not having to walk for more than a year, Dad remains confident.

“Hell yeah, Dad. Let’s show them what we're made of!” I said.

I give up. We’re a third of the way through, and I can feel my belly weighing me down.

“Come on -huff, son, you -huff-can do it!” Dad said, looking worse than I do.

Theo looked at us and chuckled.

“Guys, I’m so sorry! I should’ve known this was too much,” Mom said, panicking.

“It’s- it’s all good, Chloe. Remember you married the- huff- Star athlete back in college?” Dad smiled at Mom and gave her a thumbs up.

“Need a hand?” Theo asked me.

“Isn’t that too much?” I motioned to our luggage on his back.

“Oh, that’s nothing,” he swung my arm behind his shoulder and carried me.

He’s been doing that more often than not when I couldn’t get up. Probably the reason he got all those muscles under his shirt. What happened to the noodle arm ginger?

“Thanks, man. I guess I don’t have to roll back down there,” I said.

When we were halfway through, Dad told us solemnly.

“I- I don’t think I can make it.”

“Noooo, David I’m sorry! I didn’t mean for things to end this way,” Mom said with tears in her eyes.

“I love you guys. You’re the light of my life. I am honour to be a husband, a father, and a-” 

“Dad, you’re not dying. We’re almost there,” I said.

“Is it too late to call an emergency helicopter?” Mom asked.

“David, I love you, but I really don’t want to touch you right now. Can you pull through yourself, baby?” Mom said, looking at the sweat ball that was Dad.

Theo burst out laughing, and I couldn’t help but join too, even if I was in an equally dire situation.

When we got to the top, everyone was exhausted. 

We cleaned ourselves up with towels, and Mom went to check the Kayaking information. 

Dad and I were too big for it, as expected, so we went to find a good spot for fishing.

“I’m so excited. I have never kayaked before!” Theo said, looking as refreshed as ever.

Before we set up our fishing gear, they eagerly ditched us.

The Lake looked as calm as ever. It's boring with little going on.

Mom and Theo are probably in the middle of the lake now.

Staring at the stale water, I realized Dad was not perfect. He’s a little stubborn, clueless sometimes, but that’s what I like about him. I don’t know if anyone would find my quirks appealing. if Ave would.

I’m just a Lazy food addict who basically lives in his mom’s basement, so maybe not.

“Jay?” Dad said.

“What’s up, Dad?” I asked.

“You think too much, buddy.”

“You were always an overthinker since you were a toddler,” Dad said.

“I remember you told me you wanted to play football instead of hockey because hockey will give you frostbites, and freeze you into those Neanderthals from the museums,” Dad said.

“Oh Gosh,” he still remembers.

“You know what?” Dad said, then quickly took off his shirt.

“Let’s go for a swim,” He said with a smile.

“But the fishing,” I said.

“Don’t worry about the fish,” He said, walking back and charging towards the water.

The cannonball created a massive splash, making me completely wet.

“Mother of God, it’s freezing! Did you see that, Jay?” He said with a laugh.

“Yeah, that was pretty cool,” I chuckled. It’s not every day you see a chunky beast jumping into the water.

“Come on, Jay, take it off and jump!” he said.

I have not taken off my shirt in public since middle school, when I started to notice my flaws. Even in the locker room, I would find a bathroom stall to change.

“Don’t overthink it, Jay! Trust me!” Dad said.

Don’t overthink, I thought.

I took off my shirt and back off. When I pick up the pace, my entire body is wobbling.

With all the strength I have, I jumped.

Shit, this was a bad idea.

The cold water hit me.

First, nothing but white bubbles clouded me. Then, schools of fish surrounding me appeared in my vision, hurrying away from the meteor strike. I moved my legs slightly apart on the lakebed, so I don’t step on the tiny crabs while they take refuge in the kelp forest.

“Holy Fuck, it’s freezing!” I said as I pulled my head out of the water.

“Hahahaha, watch your mouth, Jay. You don’t want to summon your mother here,” Dad said.

The view down there was breathtaking; it was what I expected, but not. The fish looked different from a simple change of scenery. I wouldn't have known if I had never jumped.

“I’m proud of you, Jay. That was a huge splash. Aren’t the views here amazing?” he said.

“Thank you, Dad. I wouldn’t have done it without you,” I said.

“You did it all by yourself, kid,” he replied.

We kept exploring the lake until our stomachs growled in protest.

After setting up the fire, we roasted some fish in the bucket and made S’mores from caramel marshmallows. 

Theo and Mom joined and we talked about the stories we had at school or some embarrassing stories of me Dad has kept.

The next day, we packed up our stuff to leave. The mountain is beautiful and all, but Dad and I are starving for some real food.

On our way down, I realized that I had been the biggest enemy to myself. There are so many supportive people surrounding me when my self-doubt overshadows them.

The signal bars slowly appear one by one. I opened Avery’s profile picture.

If he rejects me, I’ll be embarrassed in front of a person I really care about.

I shouldn’t overthink.

There’s nothing more I can lose when I already lost his company.

So I texted.

“Hey, Ave. I know I’m late, but would you mind if I take you up on your offer for the coffee?”

“...” a text bubble appeared.

“I thought you'd never ask.”

[lowkeyremi]

𝐃𝐀𝐃 ?!

pairing: aizawa x fem!reader note: thanks to @violetraccoon04 and @hiqhkey for giving me the inspiration to write this!! Part 3 of dating the teacher series ! (Pt 1 and pt 2) summary: class 2a has always wondered if their stoic teacher has a partner… huh.. the more you know! (This is set post war so class 1a are now second years.) content: fluff, crack, teasing, just class a being sillies. wc: 1.5k

Your favorite people in the whole world are soon to leave for school, one a teacher one a student. You check over both of them. From what you can see Denki has his backpack, his training bag, his lunch (which he complains about packing because he wants to eat at the cafeteria every single day) and his hero gear.

Shota on the other has all of his lesson planning things, his eyepatch on his face, a protein shake, coffee, lots of coffee and his scarf around his neck.

You look at them expectantly, but before you could say anything Shota beats you to it, “you sure you’re okay taking Eri in today?”

“Babe, I promise you it’s no big deal. Her school isn’t far from my workplace.” His eyes soften and he gives you the kiss that he gives you every time he has to leave. Of course the romantic moment is ruined by your son, “could you guys swap saliva some other time? yuck.”

Both you and Shota turn to glare at the high schooler and he just smirks accordingly.

“I’ll see you Friday, sweet boy. Stay out of trouble. Sho, you’ll be back before midnight right? Or do you have to patrol?” He smiles at you which puts your mind at ease. Even though the war has been over for a couple of months now, you still feel paranoid watching your son and husband leave out into danger.

“I’m patrolling until 10:30 so I’m pretty sure I’ll be back before midnight.” You let out a sigh of relief.

U.A. has let up on their strict policy of students being in the dorms at all times, and has allowed them to visit their families on the weekend, which is why you get to see Denki every weekend before he has to return to the dorms for the week.

“Is your laundry clean?”

“Yes, mom.”

“You’ve turned in all your assignments, right?”

“Yesssss, mom.”

“And you still have allowance to buy food if you nee-”

“He’s got everything, darling. Try not to worry too much.” You kiss Shota again, tension leaving your body.

“Okay. I’ll see you guys later. I love you both, stay safe.”

“Love you too mom!”

“We’ll be safe, bye baby.”

Denki had stopped by his dorm before heading to his home room… which also happened to be his first period class… and the man teaching the class is his stepdad.

The young boy was told by both you and Aizawa that their marriage was no secret and he could tell his friends if he pleased.

And yes, he had planned to.. awhile ago, but he’s just embarrassed sometimes. Not by you! Or Aizawa. He already considers the man his father, it’s just, what would his friends think? He knows most will probably be kind about it considering Aizawa is their teacher.

But he’s still scared of being ridiculed for such a thing. He lets those thoughts disappear as soon as he walks through the classroom door.

The first thing he does is go and bother Shinso. He had been trying to make the boy his friend but he is very closed off and hard for even Denki to talk to.

They’ve made progress though, mainly because Aizawa talked about how he’s trained the boy a few times.

“Hey Shinsoooo, wanna get lunch together later? Today’s lunch is always the best!”

“Don’t you always bring your own lunch on mondays?” Denki smiles, “yeah but you could always give me a little bit of yours and I’ll trade you some of mine! My mom’ll never find out.”

“Yeah no, I’m good.”

“Come on man!!! Please!!!” Before Shinso can deny him again Mina makes her way over to Denki and places her hand on his shoulder.

“Denki! How was your weekend? Do anything fun?” The boy stops himself from saying that he and Aizawa went shopping together to find you a birthday gift.

“Nahhh you know me, video games for life!” Mina rolls her eyes playfully.

“Alright, you know the deal, in your seats.” Aizawa mumbles out to the class.

Nobody wastes time finding their seats.

“I know you guys would rather work together or something but I’m gonna be lecturing today.” A couple of groans and sighs leave the lips of various 2-A students. Aizawa’s posture straightens and his look is deadly. Everyone else straightens up, but Denki has to keep himself from laughing.

He can’t take Aizawa seriously when he makes such sickeningly sweet faces to you at home.

“Would you like to share what’s so funny, Kaminari?” Your last name had been Kaminari before you got married. You gave your son the option to keep your maiden name or go with Aizawa and he chose your maiden name. He said that he didn’t want to get married one day and not have his own last name, whatever that meant.

“Uh, no sir.” He responds straightening his face.

“Now, if any of you have a problem with me lecturing you can go out in the hall and read the whole textbook.” Nobody makes a sound and for good reason, that textbook is thicker than a dictionary.

“As I thought. Now onto the lecture.”

Denki had been falling asleep during the lecture so half way through, in his sleepy state he raises his hand, “Hey, dad?”

The blond feels the class’s eyes on him and gets scared that he’d accidentally exposed himself which he did but that’s not why his friends are staring. They just find the slip up funny, they don’t know Aizawa is really his stepdad.

“DID YOU JUST CALL HIM DAD? WHAT AN IDIOT.” Bakugo snorts loudly.

Denki’s face reddens and he covers it up in embarrassment.

“Looks like someone was takin’ a snooze.” Sero says with a chuckle.

“Oh come on guys, be nice. I’m sure we’ve all slipped up and called our teacher dad/mom before!” Uraraka says trying to calm down the laughter.

“Is it strange that I have never called a teacher mother or father before?” Todoroki asks suddenly feeling like an outcast. Midoriya tries to explain to him that he is in fact normal and not an outcast.

“Settle down. It was an honest mistake and I don’t blame him. I’m technically his father.” That gains the class’s attention.

Denki squeaks out a noise of embarrassment.

Aizawa immediately understands the situation his eyes widening a little in both shock and amusement, “you haven’t told them yet?”

Denki uncovers his face, “I was going to eventually…!”

“Tell us what?!” Kirishima asks excitedly.

“I am Denki’s stepfather. His mother and I are married.” It’s silent for a second but of course Mineta breaks the silence.

“Wait does that like mean you get good grades, cuz they bang each other?”

“THEY’RE MARRIED. M A R R I E D. NOT CASUAL!!!” Denki explains his face as red as a tomato.

“That still stands, your mom is married to your teacher, you can benefit from that!! Aizawa sensei, since we’re Denki’s friends can we get good grades too?!” Mina asks excitedly.

“That’s enough, nobody’s getting any special treatment. If anything Denki has to work 10x harder, because I’m around to watch him do his homework.” Half the class responds with “aw” or “aw man.”

“And mineta,” he stiffens at his name being called.

“I will not hesitate to send you out for inappropriate comments, do you understand?”

“Yes sir.”

“Pay up I was right!” Jiro of all people says.

“HUH?” Denki asks in shock.

“Well, we were betting on sensei’s relationship status. “Is he in a relationship or not?” was the question we’ve all been asking. Everyone was saying no, but I noticed that necklace he wears. It has a ring on it.” Jiro explains.

Sero and Bakugo both groan taking money out of their pockets. Uraraka holds out her hand too, they also owe her for being right.

Aizawa had always kept his necklace with his wedding ring tucked into his shirt so he had no idea how Jiro caught that.

“Oh crap that means I owe money too!! I made a bet saying he was married to present mic!” Mina sighs digging in her bag for her clutch purse.

“I prefer my wife over Mic any day.” Aizawa confirms. (In another life he would so marry him.)

“You guys don’t think it’s weird? That like- he’s my stepdad?”

“Uh, not really. I mean the only thing that matters is that you and your mom are happy.”

Denki realizes then and there he had no reason to be scared, his friends didn’t seem to mind all that much that Aizawa was his stepdad.

But from time to time when he hung out with them one would ask, “you think you can get on Aizawa sensei’s good side so _________”

This was so silly and fun to write. I had a sudden burst of inspiration 🫶🏾

©𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐊𝐄𝐘𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈 All works are written by me! Please do not copy, translate, or upload onto other sites thanks!

[bejeweledblondie]

Simon “Ghost” Riley Headcannons

A/N: these are loosely inspired from real life experiences I’ve had living on a military base, these men have a on & off switch it’s crazy

Simon “Ghost” Riley x F! Reader

Warnings: NSFW

• Simon first saw you while he was in the States for a training exercise, he was out at one of the local bars with some of the other soldiers he was with

• Soap had actually asked for your number first & since he was so intoxicated you turned him down

• Simon apologized for Soap & that’s how you met

• he did have a heart attack when he found out there was a bit of a age gap between you two but quickly got over it when he realized how mature you were

• it was a long distance relationship at first (from personal experience it sucks in the beginning)

• there were times when he couldn’t talk due to the risk of potentially exposing his teams location so you had to write letters every now & then

• you cried constantly whenever you saw some horrific news in the paper about what was going on overseas, the anxiety was awful

• but when he returned the reunions were euphoric

• you have a bottle of his cologne & aftershave so you can always feel close to him

• and you’d spray your perfume on the letters you sent so he couldn’t always smell the paper when he was missing you

• it took him sometime to open up to you about what had happened to him in his past, & your respected that

• when he first met your family, he was shocked by all the support he had received from them

• he asked your parents to marry you the first time he met them & showed them the ring too (ofc they said yes)

• he proposed to you in private after a nice dinner, he got choked up during the proposal

• your dad specifically was elated, he got to brag at how bad ass his son in law is

• your mom if she’s a teacher, had her entire class send cards, candy, anything they’d need in care packages Soap nearly cried when he opened the sweetest letter from a little girl (this actually happened irl my mom’s class did this & one guy got really choked up)

• Simon always would be your fiercest protector

• since he’s like an freakin tree he will guide your head with his bear paw of a hand in crowds

•he CANNOT sit with his back facing the door it stresses him out

•this man is strapped 24/7 whether that be a knife, bear spray etc. he’s ready

•he has a trauma kit in his car because “you never know”

•Simon is 1000% one of those apocalypse preppers you have freeze dried food, medicine, water, etc. he’s always on edge

• he sleeps with a damn rifle next to y’all’s bed

• you have a whole security system too

• your guy’s apartment is impeccable like you could eat off of the floor

• hell your guy’s bed has damn hospital corners

• Simon adopted a cat so you don’t feel as lonely when he’s deployed

• He’s your chonky boy & you do send plenty of photos to Simon when he’s deployed

• Gaz & Soap tease him about him living his “cat dad” life

• you start trying for a baby two years into your marriage

• Simon does fall victim to the “curse of the infantry” (which is not a negative thing btw it’s a running joke that infantry soldiers have all daughters) he makes girls

• he was deployed during your pregnancy & was worried sick he nearly missed the birth of your daughter

• that little girl is the most well protected baby in the whole world, the Task Force gifted him not just baby stuff but damn security for the nursery

• He watches your baby from his phone in the nursery on deployment, he was silently crying once when he was watching you sing a lullaby to your baby girl

•Price had to comfort him father to father

•In reality Simon has a very hard cold exterior at work for the sake of keeping his mental health for the profession he’s in but deep down he’s always held a soft spot & your relationship just brings it out

✨NSFW ✨

• there is a big size difference between you two & it drives him insane

• the first time y’all had together he didn’t want to break you in half

• when he returns from deployment y’all go at it like rabbits for multiple rounds, your poor pussy was so sore afterwards

• has a massive corruption & daddy kink

• he’s an ass man I don’t make the rules here so any position where your ass if the focal point is his favorite

• y’all have made so many sex tapes for him when he’s deployed, he has a whole folder on his phone & jerks off to them in the bathroom or the porta potty (it’s a canon event, trust me) to them

• he lets your cockwarm him constantly when you’re on the couch, when he’s working, hell y’all had even fallen asleep like that

• I know people say he has a Prince Albert piercing but alas per army regulation that is safety risk I think it’s more likely he’d use a cock ring on you

• during a military ball you two snuck off & fucked in a supply closet

• he couldn’t wait to get back to the hotel room after seeing you in your gown, it was red his favorite color

• and he just looked so fucking good in his dress uniform, that was the night you totally conceived your baby girl

• he groans into your ear when he cums & he’ll use his body to just eclipse yours

• “one more baby girl” & “c’mon pretty girl use your words tell me what you want”

• is a sucker for babydoll lingerie it brings your innocence & triggers his corruption kink

• moral of the story Simon Riley fucks

[hottestvirgin]

DILF!HEESEUNG

warnings. dilf!heeseung, sub!reader, smut, fluff, cute moments, breeding kink, pregnancy kink, unprotected sex, slight degrading, dirty talk, creampie, very dirty, yuuuhh

becoming heeseung’s daughter’s official babysitter was the best decision you’ve made in a while. not only were you getting paid $65 an hour to watch a guy’s child and to live there, but you were babysitting a well behaved little girl.

this came with its perks, and that was seeing her attractive father everyday. you met heeseung through a friend who worked for his family’s company. when she heard word of him needing a babysitter for his two year old, she immediately called you. after a small interview and background check, you became his babysitter.

that was one year ago. so now you were watching over a little three year old everyday, keeping her fed and entertaining while heeseung worked overtime for the company he’s soon to obtain. being closer to him, he’s more vocal about his struggles with being a father with his career.

“i don’t, y’know, wanna be distant from her,” he pauses to meet your eyes, flashing a genuine smile while rubbing your shoulder, “that’s why i appreciate you so much.”

your heart thrums at his words. they always do. and you couldn’t help the overwhelming feelings for heeseung. this tension between you two have been blossoming for a few months now. he just finds it so endearing how sweet and caring you are to both him and his daughter. he even considered raising your pay.

“$100!?” you gasped, a little too loudly. you quickly glance over at his sleeping daughter, hoping you didn’t wake her. when she didn’t move an inch, you look back at heeseung.

“is it too low?” the man asked, “i can double it.” he was desperate. so desperate to show you his appreciation. so desperate to ensure that you would never, ever leave.

“my current pay is enough, sir. don’t worry.” you smiled at him and he swore you were the most beautiful woman his eyes had ever landed on.

he pursed his lips, “you’re always so formal. you can call me heeseung,” he chuckled, “loosen up a bit.”

the softness of his voice lightened your mood that day, causing his name to be able to slip past your plush lips with ease now.

“heeseung, you got her the wrong applesauce,” you told him with a small laugh, watching him drop the last grocery bag on the kitchen counter. “she likes strawberry instead of cinnamon, remember?”

your words sent a weird feeling in heeseung’s stomach. you remembered everything about his daughter and he couldn’t even remember her favorite applesauce flavor. seeing you take on the role he failed to take made him proud and embarrassed.

“shit. you’re right. i’ll go get it then.” he’s stopped by the firm grip on his wrist, turning on his heels and meeting your comforting gaze.

“don’t worry about it. she’ll eat it.” you told him. and later that night he overheard you telling his daughter that the cinnamon applesauce was a special gift from him and how he loved her very much. she had eaten every single bite.

the first time he saw you cry was probably the scariest moment in his life. what had happened? did his daughter do something to you? did she hurt your feelings? were you gonna leave him?

“hey, hey, what’s wrong?” heeseung was quick to comfort you in parallel with how you’re always quick to comfort him. he rubbed your back and you sniffled, wiping the tears that streamed down your face.

“she called me mommy,” you told him, “i just.. don’t know how to react to that.”

oh.

when you told him that you didn’t know why you bursted out crying, he hesitated for a bit. he knew that this would happen because of how young she is. but he didn’t know it would make you ball out crying.

“if she thinks of you as a mommy then that means you’re doing a good job.” heeseung told you, his fingers intertwining with yours, squeezing your hand. there was something about his aura that night that made you feel safe and warm.

and what really made your heart swell was when he told you that you would be the perfect mother. this feeling was different. it made you.. aroused. in a way. but it was wrong, right? you can’t feel this way towards him.

as the long spring days passed, the tension grew. starting from giving each other as much personal space as possible to being very affectionate and open with each other which seemed like overnight.

“i just put her to bed.” you announce, standing in heeseung’s doorway with your arms crossed. he looks up from his laptop, inviting you to sit on his bed. “i’m getting used to it. but it just feels so weird sometimes. i’ve never seen myself as a mother.”

heeseung’s facial expression softens when you speak, reaching to graze his fingers over your arm. “but you would. i’ve been watching you and you’re better at parenting than me.” he laughs his words off but your stomach churns in arousal when he admits that he does, in fact, watch you.

“you’re an amazing dad.” you reassure. “you think so?” heeseung tsks, closing his laptop to give you his attention. nodding, you continue, “you’re sweet, loving, funny, generous..” you pause when he interrupts with a sudden laugh.

“yeah? tell me more.” the man sits up against his headboard, loving the compliments.

“hardworking, dependable.. i could go on. you’re everything i’d want in a man.” you didn’t expect to fully admit your appreciation for the man but you didn’t expect to admit that. seeing his reaction to your words made your heart flutter.

heeseung didn’t know why but the tension between you two grew intensely. he stares into your eyes lovingly, in a daze. like he was getting high just from hearing your pretty voice.

“so you want me to be your man?” heeseung repeats, and your face quickly heats in embarrassment at what you just said. fuck. what if he finds you weird? would he fire you?

“i-i mean.. i’d like a man like you.”

“mm.. so you like me.” heeseung concludes, and you cover your face in embarrassment. “well, i like you too,” he tells you, “and you’re everything i’d want in a woman.”

there’s a hint of teasing in his words but you knew they were genuine when you found heeseung in between your legs, splitting you open on his cock right then and there. filling your cunt deliciously, it’s so good. and heeseung has never been this turned on in his life, rutting into you desperately.

you can feel him deep in your stomach. and his slender fingers graze over your abdomen, his desires sending more adrenaline through his veins. he pushes your thighs against your chest, folding you in half and thrusting stupidly into you. “i’ll fuck a baby in you, i promise.” he grunts, squeezing your thighs.

you’re all fuzzy and drunk on his cock, only being able to moan and whimper pathetically as he pulls his hips down harder and harder, each time pushing your body into the mattress which produces loud squeaks and would guarantee wake his daughter up. but he doesn’t stop.

“you’d be such a pretty mama, baby.” heeseung cooes, and it sends shivers down your spine. he’s serious because he’s fucking you into the mattress with all his strength, caging and trapping you between his arms.

“d..don’t stop.” you beg, breathless. he’s not planning on it, and it only thrives him to angle his hips to where his swollen tip abuses that soft spot inside of you. this sends you to another realm, your grunts turning into silent moans.

heeseung can see it now. how you’d be walking around his house with a swollen belly. how pretty you’d look with all the weight gain, swollen tits, so fragile and gorgeous. just for him. he could already see you with his baby in your arms. fuck. it turns him on so much. everything about you does.

“oh my god. s’ good.” you moan, gripping onto the back of your own thighs. “yeah? i’m right here, baby, feel that?” he grazes over your stomach again, pushing down to feel the print of his cock in your flesh, “gonna fill this pussy full of my babies.. gonna make you my wife so you’ll never leave me like she did.”

fuck. he was pushing you over the edge and your fingers were slipping. you were so close to losing your mind. clenching around him, he groans while putting more aggression to his thrusts to ensure that he’s balls deep inside you. fuckfuckfuck. he was so close, his cock throbbing and twitching inside you. every drag of his cock sent a shiver down your spine.

he nuzzles his sweaty face into your neck, taking in your sweet, motherly scent. you were driving him fucking crazy. and he didn’t stop his thrusts for a minute. he wraps an arm around the back of your neck, pulling you into his chest while his other hand pushes your thigh further against your chest.

“ah fuuuk.. m’ gonna cum.” heeseung hips stutter, voice shivery as he whimpers and fills your womb full with his thick load, riding out his orgasm while you cum hard around him, creaming his shaft. he’s still rocking against you to make sure he fucks every drop of his cum as deep as he can in you. when he pulls out, fat globs of his cum seep out of your aching hole.

you have no regrets, no source of shame, nothing. this was the man you wanted to be the father of your first child. this was the man who’s baby you wanted to carry. so a few weeks later, you show him a positive pregnancy test.

[saerins]

ᯓ ᝰ RIGHT HERE .ᐟ — touya todoroki

touya x female reader. content tags modern au, childhood sweetheart!touya, both are working adults, making out, mentions of infidelity/murder, he’s a tease. word count 1.7k

ᯓ notes .ᐟ haha can you tell i love touya too much rn ? just getting back into writing so have some of my touya :) thanks to any of you who read this <3

“touya, you’re gonna make me late for work tomorrow,” you whine, pouting as he wins you in yet another round of super smash bros. (and hence you’d have to stay up and continue playing at his behest.)

beside you, touya smirks, rows of pearly white visible while he clearly enjoys tormenting you. “weren’t you the one who said you needed a distraction?”

you grumble as you take the couch pillow and hold it over your face, groaning in frustration. touya’s right; you’d called him right after dinner, practically forced him to come after you figured out that you’re actually not as strong you thought and you’re actually still really upset that your ex cheated on you.

it’s only pathetic because it’s already been a couple of months and you’re still wallowing over it somehow.

“you know, i bet all that frustration will go away if you just let me kill that fucker,” touya tells you, flicking your forehead as leans forward, yanking the cushion off your face.

unamused, you deadpan at him. “yeah? then what am i gonna do when you’re in jail, huh?”

touya snickers, “aww, what? can’t handle being without me?”

in a strange way, your honest answer is definitely not. you’ve known touya forever. ever since you were five and your families connected at a preschool event. ever since your friend fuyumi introduced you to her brother. ever since touya confided in you how much he hated his father.

fast forward more than a decade later and you’re both sitting in your apartment, in a different state than either of your families, still as close as you were when you were kids.

you glare at touya, rolling your eyes before scrunching your nose and smirking at him. “actually, go ahead, i’ll go find myself a better guy while you rot in the cell.”

your best friend scoffs, cocking a brow and looking like he’s offended. “i off someone for you and you don’t marry me immediately? the fuck is wrong with you?”

the shit-eating grin that dawns on his face immediately after makes your heart skip a beat. yeah, you’ve always found him attractive, maybe even had a crush on him back in high school, but he’d always had girls after girls, and somewhere along the way you learned to stuff those flimsy emotions back down.

until you remember that he’s been single for a while now, and the fact that you’re both working adults with all the freedom in the world.

fuck, you really shouldn’t go back there.

“haha, funny,” you try to wave it off sarcastically. “says the one who told his ex that he just sees me as a little sister.”

he laughs, leaning back against the couch, a hand behind his head, abs sticking out from the edge of his shirt. it takes you a second to rein yourself in, not wanting to get teased relentlessly by him if you get caught staring.

“hey, she was getting jealous of me spending so much time with you! what was i supposed to say?”

yes, you’re aware. most of them were. most of the time you never told touya about any of that; of how his girlfriends were coming up to you, all insecure about your friendship and asking if you could back off. that was the most common thing among all his relationships: the girls’ pleas for you to keep a distance.

you did… the first few times.

and after his fifth relationship, you realised that touya would always pull you back close. would always end up breaking up with them if your friendship is causing them too much worry.

“you didn’t have to say anything, maybe you should’ve just kept your distance, you know? since most of them seemed to have a problem with it,” you comment, trying to act as nonchalant as possible, though even you don’t believe yourself.

a life without touya is unimaginable for you. even if you can’t really say the same for him.

touya sighs, shifting in his position before ultimately putting an arm around you, pulling you close. he smells like your soap and his hair against your face tickles.

he’s always like this; always touchy, always close. recently he’s been more than usual, coming over and sleeping the night (you never did anything physical!), chasing other guys away at the club because they’re not good enough for you.

and when he’s like that, you think maybe there’s no harm in letting those long-lost feelings flow back.

it’s dangerous.

he’s always like this. always way too much for you to handle. and yet you can’t live without him.

and then he does something he’s never done before.

you feel his lips on your temple, and you hear the chuckle reverberating from his throat. his left arm around you holds you tight, not that you’re running anywhere—you’re pretty sure you’re frozen stiff from the shock.

did that really happen?

“how can i do that when you’re the only one i want?”

you’re sure that’s his voice. it can’t be anyone else’s. but you’re not sure if you believe him. is he really saying what you think he’s saying?

slowly, you turn to face him, expecting him to wear that smug grin and tease you for being so gullible but it never comes. instead, you’re greeted with his half-lidded eyes, blue pupils staring at your lips like he’s hypnotised, his thumb caressing your lower lip from left to right like he’s trying to memorise all the grooves.

it’s so soft that you barely recognise your own voice when it comes, “touya, kiss me.”

and maybe he’s always wanted to, because he doesn’t miss a beat. the second you open your mouth, he’s giving you what you asked for, his tongue prying your lips open and he tastes just like the warm in winter mornings, like the comfort people always dream about.

mint. you can taste the sweet from when he ate it right before he beat you in the game. you can feel the cold on the tip of your nose from when you brush against the piercings on his nostrils. you can feel him carry you onto his lap, feel his hands wrapping around your waist. you can feel his heartbeat under his chest, under your palm, almost as erratic as your own.

were you really just upset over someone else?

every relationship you’d been sad over suddenly didn’t seem to make sense anymore. not when touya’s right here, lips locked with yours and telling you more with his kiss than you’ve ever heard from his words.

by the time you pull away, both of you are breathless, his hand on your cheek, lips softly brushing over your own like he can’t bear to be away even for just a second. you can’t bring yourself to open your eyes, half overwhelmed and half confused.

“fuck, did we really just—”

“shh,” you hush him, putting a finger on his lips, suddenly embarrassed. your foreheads are still pressed together, and you can’t see it but he’s admiring your face, holding himself back from just kissing you even more.

touya moves your finger away. he whispers your name in the most gentle tone you’ve ever heard, “does that mean you feel the same?”

you swallow the lump in your throat, tongue-tied and still straddling your best friend on the couch. you’re just a single impulsive action away from going all the way.

dangerous.

pulling back even further, you’re about to make a break for your bedroom when touya pulls you back, making sure you face him.

“no running this time,” he tells you, voice raspy and his eyes flicking from your eyes to your nose and your lips but mostly your lips. “i want you,” he whispers, and the minute you lock gazes, the answer has never been more clear to you.

“i want you too, touya,” you answer, both excited and afraid but he never lets you harp on things too much because he’s already kissing you silly, barely letting you breathe—you don’t have to guess with him; he wants you so desperately you can feel it in his actions.

“touya, we should stop,” you whine, knowing that this might be going way too quick yet you want it all the same.

touya shakes his head, big hands slipping under your shirt and squeezing your waist. “no, don’t wanna stop,” he whispers into your mouth.

he’s about to pull your shirt over your head when the loud shrill of his phone interrupts. he would’ve tossed it to the side if you hadn’t taken it and insisted he should take it. it’s from shoto, after all. (he doesn’t call often, it’s a complicated relationship.)

grumbling, touya leans back, keeping your thighs in place so you can’t move away. he’s smirking at you as he answers, “shoto, what is it?”

you can’t hear his brother over the phone. you can only guess snippets of the conversation from touya’s end.

“huh.”

“what for?”

“you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“yeah, yeah, whatever.”

when he finally puts it down, he pulls you close by the chin, a glint of mischief in his grin. “get ready, doll.”

“huh? for what?”

touya gives you a peck on the lips. “family’s visiting, a surprise or whatever. they’re already in the city.”

you blink, praying he’s not being serious and wishing it’s not what you’re thinking. “okay, have fun!”

“and where do you think you’re going?” touya laughs, pulling you back down after you barely got back up.

“go spend some time with them, it’ll be fun.”

“oh i’m sure it’ll be fun,” he smirks, typing something into his phone and sending the message before you can sneak a peek.

you’re almost too scared to ask. but you do. “and why’s that?”

touya chuckles, thinking you’re way too stubborn, playing dumb even if it’ll kill you. but he guesses it’s fine if he has to spell it out for you. “because i wanna re-introduce you.”

“wait, what do you mean?”

with a gentle smile and a poke on your forehead, he looks you in the eyes. “i’m gonna introduce them to my future wife.”

[hotpinkstars]

GIRL DAD OR BOY DAD? - sunday, boothill x reader

- or more clearly, to what gender would they want to have more, and general headcannons of them as papas ☺️

- brainrot brainrot brainrot BRAINROT AHHH... i love these guys and i can do a part 2 for others later but godd theres absolutely not enough dad stuff for these men (especially sunday... if there is its all yandere) so never fear novas here! ahem anyways enjoy

- warnings none! pure fluff!!! wc 711

Sunday is so a girl and boy dad.

Reason why I say this is because he likely needs an heir to take over his position when he gets too old to do so, but he also wants a baby girl he can spoil as well.

Don’t worry! He loves both of his kids the same! They’re the greatest things that have probably ever happened to him and he cherishes them with his whole life. He thanks the stars above every single day for the opportunity he received to be a father to multiple beautiful children, and thanks you for granting him the chance. 

Dunno, but I could see this man wanting a handful of kids. He wants at least one girl and at least one boy, but I could see him shooting for 3-4. Will he be around to care for them? Not all the time, but he tries his hardest (and he definitely has the resources to care for that many).

Considering they’re half halovian and half human, they look pretty much just like their father! Some have your eyes, but they all have his hair. His hair and his gorgeous wings. They have your features though, such as your face, body type, etc.

His favorite part of the day is when he gets to collapse on your shared bed, his kiddos following behind him to cuddle their dad, and most of the time you all fall asleep together. Normally, you wake up just you and him because he’s good about putting them in their own bed once they fall asleep.

Once his kids get older, he’ll teach his son(s) combat and good form. He wants them to protect, and wants to raise them to be strong and independent. With his daughter(s), if they ask to be taught combat, then he won’t see much of an issue with it. He also wants to teach them independence, but in a more subtle form. 

Just expect that his children as teenagers are going to be the prettiest kids around holy shit. They’re obviously enrolled in a private school due to their fathers high status but they always come home and list the compliments they’ve received that day. Thankfully you two have raised them well enough for them to realize that it’ll be bad if all of these get to their head and stroke their ego too hard…

Supportive father asf! All I’ve gotta say here

Don’t play Boothill is SO a girl dad hello have you met the man

He’s so excited when his little girl is born ahh he’s always dreamed of being a father to a girl and his dream has officially come true!!

Obviously, if you had a boy, he’d love him the same. He just wants children of his own tbh lol

His daughter knows western culture fresh out of the womb my friend. It’s like she was born for little cowboy boots and the cutest little cowboy hat. She’s even got a western name, he brought it up and you liked it, so the name you two settled on was Cassidy.

She has his hair! It’s absolutely gorgeous once it starts coming in- a pearly white color with little black streaks stemming from the roots. She has your eyes and your face, and his slimmer body type (before he was turned into a cyborg. This isn’t canon I actually have no clue what he looked like pre cyborgification lmao).

Oh lord, your daughter is so spoiled. On every mission he goes on he’s always bringing something back for her. It could be a super fancy necklace or even just a little trinket he picked up from a street vendor, but she has a whole shelf full of the things her daddy gives her.

She thinks it’s so cool he has a metal body. She asks about it alot but she’s really fascinated with it tbh. She likes to call it “daddy’s special feature!” and he always melts to that sentence gosh

He probably teaches his daughter how to use a gun when she gets older. He, similar to Sunday, wants his daughter to learn self defense tactics and learn how to fend for herself when necessary.

She totally has his accent. Change my mind period.

[papurgaatika]

Nothing Fucks With My Baby

Pairing: Joel Miller x F! Reader

A/N: This got so out of hand so fast, but it is FINALLY here. This is for all my Joel girlies with crazy daddy issues, I see you and I get you. I really didn’t mean for the first half of this fic to be so angst-filled, but I think the smut is a good trade-off for it in the end. AS ALWAYS humongous shoutout to my beloved beta readers @joelsdagger and @carlynkurin yall kill me with your comments and I love yall so much. And yes the title is a Hozier lyric, I love that guy. Remember that TLOU is created by a zionist so please look at the resources at the end of this fic and in my bio on ways to donate and educate yourself!! Tags: daddy issues, minor misogyny, minor body shaming, angst, Joel wants to beat up reader’s dad, age gap, daddy kink, pillow humping, exhibitionism if you squint, oral (f receiving), Joel Miller’s filthy mouth, breeding kink, cumplay kinda, protective Joel, no outbreak AU, no use of Y/N Word Count: 5.3k

Visiting your parents with Joel for the first time brings up some bad memories. And lets you make a few good ones too.

(aka Joel hates your parents and fucks you in your childhood bedroom)

Your fingers stilled over your phone, minor panic setting into your bones when you got a text from your mother asking you to come over for dinner with her and your father. Now you loved your parents and you think they loved you too, in whatever weird way they showed it, but your relationship with them was never amazing. They were overbearing when you lived with them, always expecting the most of you but never recognizing what you actually did, like you were never going to be enough in their eyes. You were a grown woman, a degree in hand, and jobs lined up, but with rent at an all-time high and entry-level positions barely paying enough, you had sucked it up for as long as you could and continued to live with them. The passive-aggressive remarks about their friends’ kids moving out and about your degree essentially being a waste barely mattered anymore, you kept your head down and didn't engage unless you really had to. Your daydreams of moving out and being independent dwindled a little with every snide comment your father made, but you were living rent-free so you didn't say anything. 

But then you met Joel, and Joel couldn’t see a single flaw in you, his perfect angel. You weren’t even planning on dating anyone, especially not someone this much older than you, but there was just something about him that drew you in. You could still remember the day you met him like yesterday. You had been driving home after taking a much-needed weekend to go see one of your friends from college and managed to run over a nail and saw your tire pressure going down. You had pulled over and contemplated calling your father, but the idea of him driving out to lecture you on being a better driver and why he thinks women shouldn't drive just gave you a headache. So, being the self-determined woman you were, you got out of your car, popped on a YouTube video on how to change a tire, and knelt next to your car. 

Granted, the video wasn’t helping you out much, and your headache was getting worse under the blistering Austin sun, and you felt the tears start to brim in your eyes as you rested your head against the door of your car. You were seconds away from sucking it up and calling your father when you heard a gentle, “Do you need any help, ma’am?” You’re not one to usually take help from men, especially not random men on the side of the road, but your head was pounding and your eyes were red, and something about his voice just put you at ease. So you sigh and nod, explaining how you really did try to change it, but it just wasn't working and he shoots you the prettiest smile you’ve ever seen in your life. “I’ve got it for ya don’t worry, it’s just a tire ‘ain't worth those tears.” 

You stand to the side as he kneels down to take a look at the damage before standing back up and grabbing the tools from your trunk. His arms were working on unscrewing the bolts of your (now useless) tire, and you couldn’t help but stare at them. His sleeves were pulled taut over his biceps and beads of sweat were rolling down his tanned skin. You watched as the fabric of his shirt clung to his belly and his gray-streaked hair grew damp from the heat, finding yourself unconsciously biting your lip when your eyes linger on the veins that strained under his arms. He lets out a soft grunt when he gets off the ground and turns to look at you. “I don't think it’ll be safe to drive on your spare sweetheart, let me call you a tow.” 

“Oh! No, it’s okay really,” your eyes go wide and your brows furrow as you try to figure out how much it would cost and who you would even call to come pick you up, but he’s already dialing a number into his phone and telling them they owe him a favor before hanging up and giving you another smile. “You really didn’t have to do that-” Your words falter because you realize you don’t know his name.

“Joel. And I couldn't let ya deal with it yourself, my mama raised me better than that.” You blush softly at his words, genuinely grateful to have met him. You let out a breath, your tears having subsided and your heart rate finally calming down before sitting back down on the ground, fully expecting Joel to walk back to his truck and head out, but are instead met with a frown when you look back over at him. “Can't just leave you here like this sweetheart,” he sighs looking down at you, “Let me take ya to the garage at least, just so I know you’re safe.” 

Quite honestly, you weren’t used to someone treating you with this much care and attentiveness, you weren’t sure what to do with it. But the worried look in his eyes and the warmth of his voice have you nodding, taking his hand and getting into his truck to go to the garage with him. You sit in surprisingly comfortable silence for the next few minutes until you decide to be bold and ask for his number “Well, just in case my tire pops again” Your words are matched with a small grin playing on your lips, and JoeL, well joel was a goner the moment you had said those words. 

You and Joel had moved relatively fast, only being together for about eight months before you were packing your stuff and moving in with him. He had heard all about your parents before then. He saw the tears that fell after a fight with them, heard the words they threw at you while you recounted to him, and he could never imagine treating someone, especially not someone as perfect as you, like that. He could recount how many times you would curl up into him, breathing in his scent to try and calm down while he ran a soothing hand over your back and told you it was going to be okay. So it was no surprise that he had a few choice words when you mentioned that your mother had asked you both to come over. “Dunno how civil I’ll manage to be, sweet girl” he groans into your shoulder, arm draped over your middle as y'all lay in bed. You giggle softly and tilt your head to the side so it’s leaning on top of his slightly. 

“Gonna have to be,” you catch his fingers in your own, running circles over the rough skin to soothe yourself. “I haven’t seen them since I moved out... I just want them to be okay with us I guess.” A sigh leaves your lips when you think about how displeased they used to be about anything that you ever did growing up, that displeasure skyrocketing when you started seeing Joel. 

You feel him still your fingers, taking your hand and wrapping it with his own, before shifting to look at you fully. “I can’t promise they’ll be okay, sweet girl, but just know I’m in it with you forever okay?” He brings your hand to his lips and presses a tender kiss to your knuckles and you feel your eyes start to water as you nod. “Now, we don’t need to think ‘bout it for a while, lets get some sleep yeah?” You curl into his side and mumble out a soft okay before letting yourself drift off, feeling the weight of his arm draped around you. 

The rest of the week passed with relative ease, you were busy with work and Joel had been doting over you more than usual to keep your mind off of things. Eventually, Friday rolls around and you find yourself in Joel’s truck fidgeting with the rings on your fingers, heart pounding in your chest. You’re staring out the window lost in the endless stream of anxiety that is your brain, until you feel Joel's hand, warm and heavy, running small circles on your knee. You let your hand rest on top of his, basking in the intimacy of it all before he pulls up to your old house. You can feel your breathing start to quicken, chewing on the inside of your lip, before looking over at him. “Wait, baby, can we go back, I can’t do this. I’m not ready,” your words were tumbling over each other, panic clear on your face. 

“Hey, hey, look at me angel. It’s gonna be okay. We can do this okay?” His hands are on your cheeks making you look at him, and you subconsciously lean into his touch. “I don’t like them any more than you do, but I’ll try to be on my best behavior, and if we go in and you wanna leave at any time, we’re outta here okay?” He breathes out a small sigh of relief when you nod, a small giggle leaving your lips at his words. You take one last steadying breath before throwing open the door of the truck, smoothing out your outfit, and letting the flowers you had picked up for your mother rest in your arms. 

You knock at the door and feel your nerves setting in again, but Joel's hand is holding yours and you feel like he’s pulling you back down to the ground again, keeping you steady. You’re both met with a loud laugh and are pulled in for a hug when your mother opens the door. “Oh! Sweetheart, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you! You certainly look like you’re eating well.” You did not miss those passive-aggressive comments at all, so you hand her the flowers with a tight-lipped smile, mumbling something about just having more time to make the food you enjoy, 

And being the attentive boyfriend that he is, Joel senses your discomfort immediately. He turns on his southern charm and throws one of those gorgeous smiles at your mother, complimenting her cooking and how good it smells in here. “If her cooking is any indicator, I’ll be asking for a to-go bag tonight.” Your mother just blushes and goes on about how her food isn’t that good but she hopes he likes it. You grin, watching the two of them interact helping your nerves dissipate slightly. Joel was always a charmer, that’s why you were drawn to him, he knew how to make you feel safe which was something you had seldom felt in this house. 

You’re sitting on one of the chairs, head leaning against his shoulder while he laughs at something your mother says. It finally feels like you can breathe like you don't have to put your guard up because Joel does it for you. And then suddenly it’s like the floor is being ripped out from under you as your father makes his way downstairs. It was like you were 16 again begging to get his approval for anything, waiting for the day someone would whisk you out of that house. You sit up straight and move your head from Joel’s shoulder and let your eyes dart to his, and he is visibly angry. Joel knows about your father, the fights and the screaming matches, the way you were so similar it made you sick, and he just could never understand how someone would ever treat their child that way.

Now your father isn’t necessarily short but Joel was looming over him, eyes burning daggers in his direction as you both stood up to greet him. Joel’s hand envelopes your fathers in a grip that looks like it could break a bone and you give your father a curt nod and however much of a smile you can muster up with a quiet “hi dad.” only to be met with a grunt like you weren’t even worth sparing a few words to say hello to before muttering and going to sit on the couch. “It's alright Joel… he’s just like that baby... let it go.” you manage to press a kiss to his cheek to let him know you’re alright, it wasn’t like you were expecting the world's warmest greeting anyway. 

Joel tries to let it go. He really tries for you. But it is so hard being nice to someone who hurt the person you love. So he brings up Sarah, not out of spite really, he just loves to talk about his girl. “Comes up to visit almost every month, jobs got her real busy though,” he says, taking a sip of beer, eyes focussed on your father across the table. “Couldn't go without seein’ her.” Joel’s face immediately brightens up when he talks about Sarah, the pride he feels for his girl sparkling behind his eyes. 

Your father is not a man who is good at hiding his emotions, anger, and resentment showing clearly on his face. “‘M sure it’s nice to have a daughter who amounts to somethin’,” you feel your blood go cold for a moment, tears stinging in your eyes as you duck your head down to look at your plate very carefully. Joel’s hand is immediately squeezing yours, bringing you back down to earth, back to him. You take a deep breath to respond, but before you even get the chance, Joel’s voice is hurdling at your father. 

“Sure is. You’d understand what it would feel like if ya made any effort to be in her life.” The silence in the room is eerie. You cannot remember a single time in your life when your father didn’t have something to say, something to hurl at you in a fit of anger, only to claim it never happened after the fact. You feel Joel squeeze your hand again as your father shoves a forkful of food into his mouth, not making eye contact with either of you. Your mother just looks between Joel and your father silently, apparently still unwilling to stand up for you. You press your eyes shut for a moment at the absurdity of it all; the absurdity of bringing Joel to meet your parents, of him trying to defend you, at the idea that you had truly believed that your parents would have changed. You knew better than to hope for things like that. 

The rest of the dinner passes in relative silence, save for a few questions your mother asks Joel about his work and a minor argument that ensues because Joel mentions his love for the UT Longhorns after your father brings up his love for the Aggies. You roll your eyes at Joel when he throws up the Hook ‘Em hands before you get up to wash the dishes, only stopping when Joel tugs at your wrist. You look down at where he’s sitting, eyebrows raised at you because you're well aware that washing the dishes is his job “Baby it’s okay, I'll just do them today”

Joel just shakes his head and pulls at your wrist again, essentially pulling you back into your chair. “Don’t think so angel, you know that’s my job,” you giggle with a small nod of your head before the both of you turn to look at your father who is scoffing from his seat. “‘S there a problem?” 

Your father rolls his eyes at Joel, clearly still upset about how dinner went. “Just think you should let the woman do the woman’s job, ain't yours to do.” Your father barks that out with such ease that Joel thinks he sees red for a second. He grew up helping his mamma around the house when he was younger and became even more fond of cooking and cleaning when Sarah was born, so it is safe to say that he doesn’t agree with the idea that housework is a “woman's job.”

You know how Joel feels about this but your father is getting irritated again and you’re not sure if you’ll be able to take another argument between them, so you’re trying to grab the plates from Joel again. But stubborn as he is, Joel does not let up, especially if it means letting your father think that he’s right. “I don’t think so, sweet girl. Ain’t the 1950’s anymore, if you’re too pussy to wash a dish wouldn’t consider you a real man.” Your mouth falls open slightly, and you try to bite back your smile when your father huffs and gets up from the table muttering something about not knowing a real man if it bit him in the ass. 

You finish helping your mother put leftovers in the fridge, save for a bag filled to the brim with leftovers for Joel, and catch a glimpse of Joel smirking happily to himself while the sink runs hot over his hands. You sneak behind him and press a kiss on his shoulder blade, letting your hands snake around his waist. “I’ll be honest baby, kinda hot watching you tell him off like that..” You hear him huff out a laugh before he shuts the water off and spins you around in his arms, pressing a kiss to your lips before letting his mouth drop to your neck. You giggle as he nips at your skin lightly, but push him off gently after a moment. “They’re gonna see you, Mr. Miller, gonna get me in trouble.”

“Is that so?” his hands are on your waist, prints from the water on your shirt. He grins down at you, eyes glinting with mischief. “let ‘em see baby, not their little girl anymore, all mine now.” He presses another kiss to your neck, finding the spot right above your pulse point and drawing a small mewl from between your lips, before standing up straight and letting go of your waist, a grin plastered to his face. 

“You’re an absolute menace, you know that?” You squint your eyes at him, poking a finger into his chest, eliciting a laugh to tumble from his mouth. You give him a small kiss again and find yourself smiling into it. “‘M ready to go home now baby,” you murmur against the plush of his lips, wanting to feel his hands on your body again. Joel simply nods and grabs your purse for you while you say an awkward goodbye to your parents. You take your purse from his hands and open the door only to be met with the sight of rain. You were used to how quickly Austin would flood when a storm hit, you had grown up with it, but you hadn’t checked the weather and this was certainly dampening your plans to go home. 

You turn around to face Joel, eyebrows furrowed and before either of you can say anything your mother is swooping in. “Well, now I cannot send you two out in this weather! I have your old room set up still, and Joel can take the guest room!” Your eyes lock with Joel's, taking in the look of shock on his face. You should have assumed that your parents would be weird about letting Joel stay in the same room as you, despite living with him, but you were still caught off guard. 

You say your goodnights and thank yous, your father’s grip on Joel’s hand dangerously tight, before showing Joel up to the guest room giggling about having to be apart for the night. “Dunno how I’ll be able to sleep without you angel,” he groans sitting down on the old guest bed. 

You roll your eyes and kiss the scar on his nose “Sure you’ll be okay for one night cowboy, I’ll see you in the morning, ‘kay?” He just scrunches up his nose in response and plants a few more kisses on your lips before letting you walk out to your room. You can hear him exaggerate a sigh as you close the door and walk back to your old bedroom. You grin to yourself before walking into your room, taking in the sight of what used to be yours. Your hands skim over your dresser, the drawers mostly empty from when you packed in haste to move in with Joel, dried petals from the last bouquet of flowers he had gotten you still sitting in a small jewelry box. Pink sheets, pink pillows, and at least five stuffed animals still sit in their perfect setting on your bed, and a pang of guilt for leaving them bubbles up inside of you. You sigh and pull out an old shirt from the drawer and slip into it, foregoing pants and just staying in your panties. 

You spread out on the bed making futile attempts to fall asleep. It wasn’t like you needed Joel to be next to you, but you missed his hand draped around your waist and the way his body was a literal furnace to the point where you had to take the blankets off. Your mind cannot stop thinking about him. The way his hand was on the small of your back when you came into the house, the way he stood up for you when your father was speaking, the taste of his lips when he pulled you in for one last kiss before you left his room. You let your fingers trail down your body, sneaking into your panties and letting out a shaky sigh when you feel the slick pooling between your legs, eyes falling shut for a moment before situating a pillow between your legs. You press your face softly into one of the stuffed animals Joel had given you, the smell of him just barely lingering in it, and start to grind your hips down on the pillow. Your breath hitches when you feel the pressure on your clit through your panties, moans muffled by the bunny as you grind your hips down chasing your pleasure. Your eyes are still shut imagining Joel, lost in your pleasure until you hear a low whistle behind you, making your head whip around, your heart pounding a mile a minute. 

And there he is. Joel is leaning against your door, when he got in is beyond you, his eyes are hungry and locked in on you, eyebrows raising when you stop to turn around. “Why’re you stopping, baby? Go on, put on a show for me.” Your mouth opens to answer, but he’s cutting you off with a small tsk and a shake of his head “Nuh-uh. Don't get shy on me now, sweet thing, keep going.” His voice leaves no room for discussion, and his hands are on your waist pulling you flush with the pillow again. You whine when his hands leave your body, and try to turn around to grab at him. He pins your hips back down to the pillow, a low noise leaving his throat. “Like you were before, wanna see what you used to do when you miss me” 

A whimper leaves your mouth and you lay your head back down on the bed, pussy grinding on the pillow again. You move your hips back and forth, breathing becoming heavier as you angle your hips a bit higher and you bite back a whine as you clench around nothing “Joel please-” you plead, looking up at him over your shoulder with wide eyes,  “want you to touch me,” A small shudder movies through your body as you whine at him again. 

He just shakes his head at you, eyes not leaving your clothed cunt, “Not yet baby.” He brings his hands back to your waist and traces small circles into the skin just above your panties. 

  “but-” You keep grinding but throw a pout at him trying to get his decision to sway. 

He swats at your ass, not hard enough to leave a mark but enough to be a good warning “You arguing with me baby?” His eyebrows are raised, the look in his eyes not one that wants to deal with a brat tonight. 

You shake your head with a pitiful no sir and keep grinding on the pillow, your panties fully drenched by now. You feel your hips start to stutter as your climax catches up with you, a sheen of sweat covering your body. Your stomach is clenching and your breaths are ragged, “Joel- fuck gonna cum, oh god- fuck-” You babble at him, words muffled, legs trembling lightly, and eyes falling shut as you’re hit with your orgasm, face falling into the stuffed bunny again. 

You try to steady your breaths after coming down from your high, eyes still closed until you feel his hands sneak around your waist and under your shirt, grabbing your tits softly. “Fuck, you’re such a filthy girl, probably did this all the time when you thought about me? Desperate fucking thing.” You groan into his touch, and arch your back into him when he pulls you flush against his chest. He grabs at the hem of your shirt, before pulling it off and tossing it to one of the corners of the room, fingers playing with your sensitive nipples. You let out a squeak when he tugs at them before he lets go and presses his hand over your mouth. “Quiet. Gonna wake up your parents, or is that what you want, hmm?” His hand dips into your panties, rough fingers swirling over your clit “wanna get caught in the room you grew up in?” 

A whine leaves your mouth, muffled behind his hand, as you try to grind into his fingers. He brings his hand back to your nipple, flicking at the nub and making you jump. “Joel please- need it” You plead as he circles your clit. 

Joel pauses, drawing a pathetic whimper to leave your lips. “Came already and want another one? Greedy fucking thing” You nod at his words before yelping when he throws you down onto the bed and pulls you down to the edge of the bed by your ankles. He throws your legs over his shoulders and you buck your hips into the air, trying to catch his touch. He rests his head on the plush of your thigh, eyes on yours, waiting for you to ask for what you want. 

Your eyes are pleading with his, hoping that you can get out of having to beg by batting your lashes at him. “I’ll be so good for you, please.” your lip trembles a bit, hips still moving in the air, trying to get into his mouth. He relents and his lips press against your thighs, his stubble scratching at it gently, before pressing a kiss to your clit, making you jump softly. “Fuckk thank you.” Your head falls back as his tongue sweeps over your weeping cunt, his arm pinning your hips down to keep you from bucking into his face. 

His tongue dips into your slit, making your back arch off the bed as your hands fist in his hair. His lips wrap around your clit, and your hand clamps over your mouth to stop the obscene noises you were making from leaving it. His fingers tease your entrance before slipping into you and thrusting in and out at the same pace he was flicking his tongue. You feel your thighs start to tremble and clench around his head, your grip on his hair growing tighter as you feel your second orgasm hit you, red hot in the bottom of your spine, and up to the tingling in your fingers. Joel’s pace does not slow down as he coaxes you through it, hitting all the right spots. “Fuck look at her baby.” He says pulling his fingers out of you and spreading your slick over your pussy. “Fucking weeping for me. I’ll give her what she needs don't worry” 

His fingers press against your lips, and you let them into your mouth, tasting yourself off of him and groaning at the taste. He drags his spit-covered fingers down your chest, relishing in the fucked out look on your face. He takes off his jeans letting his cock spring free, dumb bastard going commando at your parents' house, and spits into his hand before fisting his cock in your line of sight. You whine at him, pouting your lips at him, cunt dripping down your thighs onto your bed. He chuckles at you and brings his hands to your waist, before slipping his cock into you, a hiss leaving your lips at the stretch. “Look at that sweet girl, taking me so well.” He moves so his cock is buried to the hilt in your cunt, the coarse hair that surrounds him pressing into your pelvis. 

You try to rock against him, to gain any friction. “Joel please move... please I want it” You plead with him, hands moving to wrap around his wrist. “Gonna be so good for you Daddy, please” And that does him in. He lets out a groan and thrusts into you with enough force to move your headboard. His cock is hitting you in just the right spot, filling you up almost too much. 

You feel yourself clench around him as his hand tightens around your waist, one of your legs wrapped around his back, pulling him in deeper. “Gonna fill you up so good angel,” he says as your pussy clenches around him like it was begging for his cum. “Make you all mine, show everyone who you belong to,” his thrusts are growing messier, and you can feel another orgasm building in the pit of your stomach, and it’s almost too much. Your toes curl and you meet his thrusts as you let out a pathetic slew of pleasepleasepleaseplease before you feel him cumming inside you with a soft pant of your name. You feel him pull out of you slowly, his cock replaced with his fingers. “Said I was gonna make you mine, gotta make sure it takes.” His fingers collect the cum that leaks out of you in the most obscene way and pushes it back into you, as a shaky breath leaves your lips at the depravity of his words. 

“Fuck thank you, baby,” You manage to get out after what feels like an eternity of recovering from your orgasm. Joel shoots you a sleepy grin, before wrapping his clean hand around yours and laying his head down on your chest, looking up at you with love in his eyes. 

“I should be thanking you, sweet girl. Did so fucking good for me” You grin and look down at him with sleepy eyes and run a hand through his hair. 

“You know you gotta get back to the guest room right?” You ponder, realizing the situation that you were in. The idea of your mother waking up to find you naked and stuffed full of Joel’s cum was horrifying. 

Joel just grins back up at you, pressing a kiss to the underside of your breast before pushing himself up off your bed and peeking at the window. “Dunno baby.. Rain stopped a while ago, I'm ready to just get outta here.” He raises his eyebrows at you, sliding back into his jeans as you drop your arm over your face with a dopey smile playing across your lips. 

“So long as you carry me to the truck, I'm game, baby” You bite your lip and smile up at him as he tosses your dress at you before he scoops you up and tromps down the stairs quietly and puts you into the passenger seat before getting in and pulling out of the driveway. “Thank you for being there tonight baby.. I love you.”

Joel just smiles at you, half asleep in his passenger’s seat, and runs a hand over your knee before grabbing your hand and pressing a kiss to it. “Love you too angel. Don’t plan on ever making you come up here again though” You just giggle and lace your fingers through his, extremely content to just spend the rest of your days with Joel, not worried about your parents.

A/N: From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free READ: This account stands with Palestine unequivocally, and so— I require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this. DO NOT BUY THE REMASTER, TLOU2, TLOU1, OR ANY GAME FROM NAUGHTY DOG! neil druckmann (the creator) is a zionist. PLEASE READ THIS. AND REBLOG THIS.  Thank you for reading, and free Palestine

[the-californicationist]

i did send the same thing to another writer i enjoy bc i love different takes on things, but my little dumpster brain has had one thought in the last 24 hours - imagine confiding in your captain that you'd like to have a baby bc biological clock or whatever, and being in the field really puts a damper on your sex life, so that makes it difficult. but the 141 will do anything for one of their own, so if that means they're running trains and taking turns on you DAILY until it takes (and probably even after 👀), then so be it.

lol... you lit a fuckin' fire with this ask, my friend. hot!!

"The Window" (141/Reader)

You awoke to the soft tinkling noise of his belt and zipper, rattling at the edge of your bed. Your captain, John Price, was answering his call of duty, and within moments, you knew he would slip his fat, flaccid cock between your legs and allow your warmth to make him harden within you. He preferred it this way. First, he would rub you with it, heavy and smooth, smearing your wetness all over his skin. Then, with a singular talent, he would somehow stuff his soft, lolling head into your hole, feeding himself into you gently, letting your body take him in on its own as your pussy pulsed for him, and he would rub your clit absent-mindedly, comforting himself with your swollen lips, sighing raggedly as you covered him up. Once he was hard - and fuck, he was impossibly hard - he would fuck you through your blinding pleasure, his girth giving you burst after burst of hot, searing bliss.  

He wasn’t your boyfriend - none of them were - but the members of your task force, the 141, had all agreed to be the father of your child. It had started when Captain Price first saw your appointment on the team calendar. You’d meant to post it privately, but you had failed to do so. He came to you right away, his face full of worry,

“Wha’s goin’ on, Spar? Goin’ to the main base hospital… Wha’s all this about?”

So, you’d told him, a little bashfully, that you were trying to get pregnant. You’d be turning 28 this fall, and you wanted to be a mom, sooner rather than later. Every few weeks, you were shipped off to some too-cold or too-hot locale, getting shot at and flash-banged. There wasn’t really time to find a date, much less convince them that you would make a good mother. The last time you tried to use Tinder, one guy had called you ‘Rambo’ and blocked you, so it wasn’t going well. 

“I’ll go with you, little bird. Sounds important.”

“You don’t need to do that, Captain. I’m sure I can take out a loan for it…” You thought out loud, remembering the pamphlet and all of its cost breakdowns for IVF treatments.

“A loan? Last time I checked, love, it was free,” he chuckled. 

“Free when you have someone who’d be willing to give it to you, sir,” you challenged him with your confidence, trying not to be ashamed, even of your ‘Rambo’ nickname. 

“Sparrow,” he raised his voice and nearly shouted your callsign incredulously in the small mess hall where he’d found you, “There’s no bloody way you don’t have someone willing.” 

“Wha’s goin’ on, Cap?” Gaz poked his head in behind the door. 

“Nothing,” you tried to stop the literal landslide of embarrassment that was happening to you.

“She wants to have a baby,” Price told him, smiling a bit as your cheeks turned pink.

“A baby?” Gaz commented with no small amount of surprise.

“Who wants a baby?” Simon yelled out from the hallway before opening the door wider and scooting around Gaz to join into the conversation. 

“A bairn!?” Soap barged in, slamming the door all the way open and forcing Gaz to tumble into the kitchen. 

So, the whole team knew in a matter of moments, but Price kept his word. He drove you to the hospital for your appointment and asked more questions to the doctor than you did. Unfortunately, he heard all of the strictest rules and took them to heart. No cigarettes, no caffeine, plenty of rest and… plenty of exposure to male ejaculate. 

There had been a meeting, of which you were not a part, between Price and the other men in your task force, and they had come to a conclusion: they would put a baby in you. It was their singular mission. A bit of back and forth had occurred when you found out their plan.

“Is there… we dinnae want to pressure you, lass, but,” Soap looked around at Ghost, Gaz, and Price before settling back on you, “Are there any of us you wouldnae like to be the father? We willnae take offense.”

“No! I’d be happy to have any of you… I mean… But, I don’t want you to feel like you need to do this if you don’t want to,” you could feel the heat of your shame rising in your cheeks, and you knew you were as red as a lobster. You heard a bit of laughter at your comment and feared the worst. But then, Gaz explained,

“I’m afraid all of us very much want to, Sparrow.”

He had even palmed his growing cock for emphasis. 

But, it had to be fair, you decided. There should be a schedule; no favorites. And for the first month, there was. Soap was your Monday, Ghost was Tuesday, Gaz was Thursday, and Price was Friday. But then Price had a meeting and so Soap was Friday, and Price was Saturday. That meant Ghost was Monday. You were in training on Tuesday, so Gaz was Wednesday, but Soap couldn’t do Thursday or Friday because he had to go in for his annual review. So, he joined Gaz on Wednesday, stepping in right after him as if you were a pretty little mailbox and the boys had come to drop off their packages. 

When the weekly schedule fell apart, you hung a big calendar in your quarters, and they’d pencil themselves in. That was fine until you had been shipped out to Aqtabi. You’d tried to keep it up while you were in the field, remembering what day was which, but the truth was that sometimes you had no idea if it was morning or night. Was that the sun or a flare? 

And sometimes it didn’t matter. Something would happen on a mission, and Price would crawl beneath your scratchy woolen sheet, searching for the comfort of your arms, not saying a word, not even asking you if it was alright, but just taking you there in the cold night of the desert, filling you up and keeping his cock sheathed in you, safe and sound. 

And sometimes you needed them, too. Waiting on exfil, huddled together in the pouring rain beneath a sad tarp, you’d crawled into Gaz’s lap, looping your arms around his neck and letting him hold you in a cradle, using his big chest as your pillow. You’d dozed, exhausted, and he’d rubbed himself against you through your clothes, coaxing you to pull down your pants so he could empty himself into your womb, quick and filthy. You remembered how it felt when his come had soaked through your panties as you sat next to him in the helicopter, letting him hold your hand. 

You felt a little guilty that you weren’t exactly hoping for a child during those first few months. You were enjoying their affections, no matter how platonic they may have felt. 

It didn’t stay that way, though. Soap was the worst offender. When he fucked you, he wanted to spend most of his time eating you out, sucking on your clit with his mouth like a hungry dog, soaking himself in your scent and your flavor before finally mounting you, crawling over your body like the hound that he was, dipping his cock into you and beating your core like a drum. He’d stare into your eyes when he could manage it, and he’d slipped up one day and told you he loved you. That you were his girl, his wee bonnie lass, and that he’d raise the bairn with you, even if it was Black like Gaz, tall like Ghost, or had Price’s big nose. It’d be his and yours. He’d be the daddy you wanted him to be, he promised. 

Then, you’d had to deal with Gaz. He’d made dinner reservations at a restaurant near base while he had your legs held up to your chest, helping you wait the twenty suggested minutes for his “lads” to “soak in”. Told you he was just hungry, but he had also happened to buy you a nice dress, and he’d driven you in his sporty little Beamer, bright red and clean as a whistle. He’d fucked you after dinner, sneaking in a double feature, which was expressly against the rules. Told you he couldn’t help himself, and he said he’d been thinking about you all weekend, cock in hand. 

Ghost was like his namesake, haunting you all over the place. He found you in the locker room, and decided to fuck you standing up, sweaty from your sparring match. He’d washed you off in the shower, and he’d taken you in there, too, after coaxing you to make him hard again by sucking him off. Ghost would slink by you in the reference room, stalking you through the bookshelves, and dragging you to the storage closet to fuck you on all fours on the floor, maps and looseleaf pamphlets about Russian spy camps under your rosy red knees. He got vocal that night, cramped with his huge body in that tiny closet, telling you what a good girl you were for him, how you fit his fuckin’ cock so perfect, how he’d never want anyone else, how it felt so good to fill your body up with his load. 

Then, there was your captain. At first, you weren’t sure he was truly a willing participant. He seemed to avoid you unless he was on the schedule. He didn’t cut in line, and if you were on the couch or in the kitchen with one of the boys, he’d leave you be, smiling at you a bit before grabbing his tea and escaping back to his office. But, then you realized the truth: John Price wanted to put a baby inside of you more than anyone else, and he would go to the ends of the earth to make sure it happened. 

“Hey, little bird,” John’s finger pet the side of your cheek as you woke, feeling him pull down your pink silk panties so he could start to warm you up, “I’m your Sunday.”

“Mm,” you rubbed the sleep out of your eye and opened up your legs for him, giving him full access to your body on instinct at this point, “John, we gave up on the schedule. You can come whenever you want. Or, you can stop.”

“Can’t stop,” he kissed your mouth as he leaned over you, and you tasted peppermint and tobacco mixing together with something heady and lustful, “We’re in the window.”

Ah. The Window. All of the boys talked about The Window and when it was coming up next. They’d all downloaded trackers on their phones, watching you like birds of prey for when you ordered a box of tampons, checking with you to see when you were off the rag. And then, you’d be “in the window” of ovulation. Their best chance at succeeding at this mission. 

They would fuck you at any time of the month, and Soap and Price would even fuck you through your period, having read in some magazine that there was a small chance of success. But, being in The Window was like covering yourself in honey in the middle of a cave in spring and waking up all the bears inside it. Fertile ground, ripe for the taking. 

“Mm, fuck,” you keened. John had two fingers in you now, pressing on your soft spots and stretching your hole. You wrapped a hand around his neck and pulled him in for another kiss, which he moaned into. 

“Feel good, Spar? You want to make me hard, pretty bird?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, looking up at him with desperate eyes, “Yeah, I do. Please, John…”

 He slipped himself in, half-hard already, and you felt the body of it slide into your core. It was soft, and you liked to squeeze it with your muscles, feeling him writhe inside of you when you did, reveling in his pleasure. He sat back on his heels to let you play with him fully, watching you grind your hips on him as he massaged your clit to its full, swollen height. He was in no rush, and he spoke to you casually. 

“Has Kyle been in this weekend?”

“No, it was Soap,” you tried to remember, “And then Ghost, and then Soap again.”

Price chuckled warmly,

“That boy wants a baby so badly.”

You smiled with him, agreeing, 

“He does. He interrupted Gaz on Thursday and asked him when he’d be done!” 

Price laughed with you then, his eyes gleaming and crinkling at the edges,

“Oh, Christ. He’d be a good one. They’d all be good.”

You watched his mood shift. There was something solemn about it, and you wanted to chase it away. You rubbed your hand along his furry belly, locking your ankles around his hips and shamelessly rocking your hips to fit more of him into you. You confessed, 

“You’d be good.”

His eyes found yours again and he stilled, wondering out loud,

“D’you think so, Sparrow?”

“I know so.”

“Can I tell you a secret, little bird?” He whispered, lowering himself into position and stuffing his hard length even deeper inside of you, making you worry just a bit if he could hurt you with that thing. 

You nodded, kissing his huge Adam’s apple in his throat and nuzzling through his beard. He told you the whole truth as he pounded himself into you without mercy, 

“Sometimes, I wish he would be mine. I wish…” He almost stopped, but he kept going, like a raft in the stream, too caught in the current to go back to the shore, “I wish you could be mine, and then I could rub lotion on your belly when you got big. And I could cook for you when you got tired, and I could read to you, even when he was still inside of you, and I know he could hear my voice. I wish, sometimes, that when it happens, that I’d be the first to know. That you’d tell me first, because you knew it was mine, because you’d want him to be mine.”

You were stunned, and you were coming, and the two were very separate events. As your pussy pulsed and tried to milk him of his come, making you dizzy and almost sick with pleasure, you were shocked by his admission. You grabbed his face and made him look you in your eyes,

“John…” You panted, coming down from your first high of many with Price, “I had no idea you felt that way.”

“I didn’t either,” he smiled, but the corners didn’t reach his eyes. 

When he fucked you this morning, you had no idea how good it could feel, but he showed you. He rutted into you, desperately, like some sort of beast, unable to stop himself. It was as if he would fuck himself bloody in you if he had to, and you wanted to take him as best you could. You felt him finally start to come, and he plugged you up with his thickness, shoving himself as deep as he would go, sealing you off and keeping you warm and elevated. 

He kept his cock in you, gasping for breath and petting the hair out of your face. He kissed you, cheeks and chin and neck, all the way down to your breasts where he suckled from your nipples, almost dreamlike in the way he was touching you, fully covered in you the entire time. 

“Sleep, birdie,” he nuzzled your neck and continued to lave his tongue over your breasts, “I’ll wake you when I’m hard again.”

Part 2

[ive-been-timebombed]

Part one

Danny is the daddy! And king- same thing.

Summoning rituals are the absolute worst. It happens too often and always ends up with one too many bruises.

Red Hood shifted on his knees and pulled at the rope that held his arms behind his back. He looked to Nightwing who was to the right of him in a similar situation only with more rope and tighter knots, he kept escaping so the cultists improvised. Red Hood looked back to the main excitement in the room and rolled his eyes at the idiotic scene.

A big circle of intricate lines and displays of many items. There were five displays, which Jason can only assume were offerings, one had a bag of food that looked similar to batburger. The second had what looked like a child’s school project on the solar system. The third held a map and a.. baby’s doll.? Jesus, what is this idiot summoning? The fourth was of a bright green liquid... Lazarus Pits? It was brighter than the actual pits and looked cleaner. Not to mention the bubbling was also missing from the vile of the pits. The last was a plant and a bag of sand... Jason gave up on trying to understand whatever the hell the fugly dude was trying to summon.

Speaking of.. the man that was scurrying around the circle looking at it making sure everything was good. He looked insane, with almost bright blue skin, black hair, and cultist-type robes. Not to mention the slight transparency of the man. Jason decided his name was gonna be Wickham.

“Oh finally! I’ll get to summon my king to this blasted world” Wickham stepped back from his summoning circle with a wicked grin, “If only my king didn’t have such strange needs to be summoned..” Wickham looked over to the vigilantes and moved in front of them his hands folding behind his back

“I guess you guys don’t know what I’m summoning do y’all?” Oh great.. he’s about to go on a rant.. “Don’t worry! You’ll find out soon!” Wickham turned to his circle again and stood in front of it. He got down to his knees bowing his head and bringing his hands together. He started to speak, a language Jason had never heard, and by the sounds of it neither had Dick.

The circle started to glow the Lazarus green. Jason felt like he couldn’t breathe. The weight of the ritual was suffocating, and despite feeling like he could grasp Wickham's words, they remained nonsensical.

Strangely enough, Jason couldn’t understand what he was feeling. It felt like longing for something that he never had.. like a warm hug from his father, Willis. He could feel excitement and yearning for the green to overcome the room and cover him in the comfort of.. the distant memory of singing and the cold of a rooftop.

_______________

Despite what many had assumed of Danny, he quite enjoyed the summonings. They weren’t too often and gave him an excuse to leave his boring meetings. When he felt the pull of a summons he grinned and waved to the idiot ghosts that were arguing in front of him and disappeared.

He opened his eyes seeing the usual scene of his summonings.. ignoring the strangely dressed mortals that were tied up near the wall.

“King of the Infinite Realms, Ancient of space and the unknown, Defeater of Pariah Dark, Honored of the Far Frozen, Knight of-“ The summoner listed off. Danny sighed he should really get rid of most of the titles..

“Blah- Blah- Blah. What do you want, Mortal..”Danny asked looking down at the summoner and hesitated at the end seeing the slight transparency of him..

The summoner stopped speaking and bowed further to the ground, “My King! I ask that you cleanse this cursed world and take it for your own! With me as your trust-“ Danny once again interrupted

“I’m good, already own this dimension. It’s only one of the infinite-“ Danny groaned before he froze.. this dimension.. it was his home dimension. The very same he was born in and dead. The same he protected with his undead life when ghosts invaded his town.. The same he left his child in to live in..

“My liege?” The summoner spoke up hesitantly glancing up at the halfa.

Danny didn’t bother to acknowledge the mortal. He was to distracted by the small very similar essence to his own only a few steps away. He looked to the tied up mortals and stared at the one that had a red helmet. The red helmet stared back his core begging for help and the support of its paternal core essence.

When Danny was first introduced to the idea of being king he was put in lessons by the many leaders around the realms. First was with Frostbite, the Leader of the Far Frozen, who taught him the biology and science behind ghost. Embarrassingly, he also had to sit through the sex talk once again. But from what he was taught when a ghost has a child or Ling short for Ghostling. That Ling would be connected to its parents or parent for ectoplasm as it would be to young to absorb ectoplasm on its own. The steady stream of ectoplasm would be used to power the young ghostlings core and nurture it to start absorbing ectoplasm on its own. The connection also helped the parent when they needed the location of their ling or just wanted to check up on them. The connection was like a cellphone that only connected to the child to the parent. It told them the location, needs, even if the Ling needed extra ectoplasm. It could be used for a call to come or even a scream for help.

When Danny was younger he had a kid.. the baby was an accident that he didn’t know about till it was left on his doorstep with a letter saying it was his. He called the kid his Baby JayJay short for Jason. He couldn’t feel a core inside the child so he assumed that Jay didn’t inherit his ghostly habits. So he didn’t form the connection between their cores, he didn’t want to hurt the still living soul of his baby by feeding it unneeded ectoplasm. Danny couldn’t stay in his dimension however.. due to the active laws against his kind. And he didn’t want to drag his child into something he didn’t need to be apart of. So he forced down his core wants and said goodbye to his baby JayJay. Then left for the infinite realms to be crowned and ever wondering what happened to his baby.

_________________

Jason couldn’t describe the feeling when he saw the being Wickham had summon finally appear.

It was a human body despite the many not human things. Their hair was a snow white and their eyes glowed a bright green. The clothes they wore had similarities of kings clothing it was a black with gold accents and a star covered cape. The cape floated like it went beyond gravity which Jason assume it did. The man had sharp canines and pointed ears. His hair floated similar to his cape, defying gravity. The feet of the being faded to invisible as it reached the floor. The glowing green flickering off to blue crown on the beings head drooped back a the being landed on the ground.

“King of the Infinite Realms, Ancient of space and the unknown, Defeater of Pariah Dark, Honored of the Far Frozen, Knight of-“ Wickham started before being interrupted by the being.. King Phantom?

“Blah- Blah- Blah. What do you want, Mortal..” The kings voice was echoey and smooth, Jason swore he heard the voice before.

“My King! I ask that you cleanse this cursed world and take it for your own! With me as your trust-“ Do Wickham was a stereotypical cultist. Only wanting one thing that will likely never gain. The being interrupted him again.

“I’m good, already own this dimension. It’s only one of the infinite-“ The king rolled their eyes before they froze their voice stopping with them. They were looking off into the distance so Jason could only guess the being realized something.

Wickhams voice felt muffled when Jason heard him as the being looked straight at him and Jason stared back.

[dipperscavern]

"i need to make cregan a father"

THIS 👫🤰👩‍🍼

cregan is so father. like he's got his shit together. he's a calm man. he's so damn loving. loves his sweet wife and loves his little pups :((

we need to talk abt father cregan as much as possible. unfortunately i need to hear every thought in your soul abt this

- 🔄❄️

REVERSE ELSA ANON MY LOVELY !!! the way you read my tags ur such a silly goose

okay buckle up i’m so ready let’s talk about it. cregan is so father material. he’s secure, loving, attentive, calm, and he has his shit together. he’s an authority figure who’s comfortable leading and is used to taking charge & making decisions. he would make such a good father.

like, i can see you not even planning to have kids soon, but then you meet cregan and it all changes. cause you truly have no worries. you’re safe, you’re secure, you have a husband who looks at you like you hung the moon & the stars themselves… a big warm castle (with a big warm husband), ladies in waiting, and masters at arms to train them when they come of age….. literally every resource you could ever want. and it’s all at your disposal.

and even more, you want to make him a father. want to give him a babe. and he wants it even more (hooray!!!!!)

he’s so attentive and doting throughout the pregnancy :(( patient with your mood swings, holding your hair back when you get sick, not eating food that you suddenly can’t stand to be around (the smell makes you shiver in disgust). he’s there for you when your body changes, there when you just don’t feel good/right, and he’s also there when you do. when you’re all smiles and resting a hand on your growing stomach as you stroll the godswood with him.

is there during the entire birth IDGAF!!!! FIGHT ME!!! COME CATCH FHIS FADE okay what the hell is wrong with me just ok

anyways, he’d fetch the maesters/midwives for you when your water breaks (or send someone else if u wanted him close). he’d be there as you labor, helping out where he could — even if it means letting you squeeze his hand so hard it turns purple (he’s not pulling away). i think he’d start out not in the birth room (as per tradition) but the MOMENT he hears you asking for him he’s coming. on his way before you can even finish your sentence. god help the poor soul that tries to keep him away from u

after the babe (or babes) (he refers to them as the pups) were born he’s not letting you lift a finger postpartum. gets up with you during the middle of the night when they cry. as they get older, carrying them around on his shoulders. teaching them to ride a horse, grooming them for rule, training them with a sword etc. sometimes they act out, but as soon as cregan leaves and lord stark enters the room they’re turning their brain on & straightening RIGHT UP

would stare at them all the time, and stare at you. would be in adoration of you, almost keeling over at the idea that you gave him that. you gave him life and beauty because you love him and you wanted to. he just thinks you guys are the prettiest things to walk this planet.

[jellybonbons]

Playground Love

ೀ older!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader

Tags: hurt/comfort, age gap (unspecified but reader is an adult), a lot of self doubt, talks about mommy and daddy issues, pet names (angel, princess, sweetheart).

W/C: 1.0k

A/N: studying? who is that? Anyways, this was supposed to be a cute ‘sitting on his lap would fix me’ but I got hit by existential crisis at 2am so angst.

"Wow, dating an older guy? That's so sophisticated!"

“Are you sure about this? Don’t you think there’s a reason why no one his age is dating him?”

"You get to date someone older? That's not fair! All I get are immature guys my age."

"Darling, I know you're an adult now, but dating someone significantly older... it just worries me. Are you sure you're on the same page?"

I love him.

At every reaction, you find yourself repeating the same phrase in your mind. It was a simple truth that anchored you amidst the swirl of opinions and doubts. Every concern, every envy—you faced them all with the same unwavering declaration.

But do you really love him?

The question lingered like a shadow, casting doubt on the certainty you had clung to so desperately. You couldn't shake the nagging feeling that perhaps you were merely caught up in the allure of dating someone older, mistaking infatuation for love. Or was it that you longed for attention from an older guy who could fill the void your absent father left?

You craved the paternal presence you had been denied, and in him, you found echoes of the guidance and affection you had longed for. 

"Dating someone older? Isn't that a bit... strange?"

"Why? Age is just a number, right?"

"Yeah, but... do you really think you're at the same stage in life?"

Oh, how naively optimistic you were. 

Perhaps you have been too quick to dismiss your loved one’s concerns, too eager to embrace the illusion of love in the arms of someone—his arms—who offered the fleeting promise of stability and security. 

“But he makes me feel loved and safe,”

“Does he?”

Was your love truly built to withstand the test of time, or was it merely a fleeting illusion, destined to crumble beneath the weight of your differences?

“Darling, can we talk for a moment?”

“Sure, Ma. What’s on your mind?”

"Well, I couldn't help but notice... you seem quite taken with this new guy you're seeing."

"Oh, you mean Leon? Yeah, we've been spending some time together."

"He's... older, isn't he?"

"Um, yeah, he is."

"I see... darling, I just want to make sure you're being careful. Dating someone older can bring its own set of challenges."

"I know, Ma. But he's different. He understands me in a way no one else does."

"I'm sure he does, dear…but promise me you'll take things slow and really get to know him before things get too serious."

"I promise, Mama.”

You've broken many promises with your mama, but why did this one hurt? Is it because you partially blame her for shaping you the way you are? Is it because she married your father? Maybe she would have lived a happier life if it weren't for him, if only.

But you thanked her, both her and him, for the lesson learned, for the wisdom imparted, for the love that had always been there, and for helping you recognise the kind of partner to avoid. 

You stood before the polished wooden door of Leon’s home office, your hand hovering in uncertainty over the ornate doorknob. Each second felt like an eternity as you battled with the torrent of doubts and fears that raged within you. 

You needed him, wanted him to hold you, and tell you that everything would be fine.

But what if he couldn’t understand your doubts? What if your confession shattered the fragile illusion of your love?

With a steady breath, you pushed aside your apprehensions and grasped the doorknob, steeling yourself for the conversation that lay ahead.

“What’s up, sweetheart?” His voice, gruff yet soft and reassuring, always managed to send shivers down your spine, freezing you in place. You couldn’t find the words to speak, and your throat suddenly dried.

Sensing your hesitation, he beckoned you closer with a gentle smile. You could see the experiences he went through, the complexities of adulthood etched into the lines that creased his weathered face.

“Come here, angel. Sit on my lap while I work.”

You obeyed, crossing the threshold into his office, your feet padding on the wooden floor as you made your way to him. Settling onto his lap, your linen dress pooled around you, the fabric soft against your skin. His arms encircled your waist, pulling you close, his rough touch sent warmth flooding through your veins.

You inhaled his scent, a mixture of citrus and wood, with a hint of something familiar: whisky. You thought he quit. Ready to question him, you opened your mouth, but he stopped you before you could question him.

“Don’t worry your pretty head, princess. I only drank a glass, I promised. I’m just a bit stressed.” 

“Mm, okay,” you replied, pushing aside your concerns for the moment as you melted into the warmth of his embrace.

You found solace in the familiar embrace of Leon's arms, the weight of your doubts momentarily forgotten as you leaned into his chest, burying your face against him. A few of his buttons were undone, allowing the soft hairs on his chest to brush against your face. 

"Is everything alright, angel?" Leon's voice, soft and concerned, pulled you back to the present moment.

"Yeah, everything's fine. I just want to stay like this, with you," you murmured, the words slipping out before you could second-guess yourself.

His arms tightened around you, drawing you closer, as if he could sense the hesitation in your voice. "Me too, princess. Me too," his stubble pricked your forehead as he murmured against them.

Oh, how weak you were. His voice and touch alone melted you into a puddle, and all your problems seemed to vanish in his embrace. Your mama wouldn’t be happy with how you turned out; she wished that you would never let a man make you weak like she was.

Closing your eyes, you allowed yourself to sink deeper into his embrace, letting go of the weight of your doubts and worries. In this moment, all that mattered was the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against yours.

Perhaps one day, when the time was right, you would find the courage to open up to him about your inner struggles. Until then, you cherished this moment, clawing in the warmth of his love.

Pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, Leon whispered softly, "I love you, angel.”

“I love you, too, Leon, always,” you replied. The words were a vow of unwavering devotion and love…was it really?

All women become like their mothers. That is their tragedy. No man does, and that is his.       

- Oscar Wilde

[7s3ven]

NOBODY’S SON, NOBODY’S DAUGHTER. luke (pjo) pt. 2

PART 1 > PART 2 > PART 3 > PART 4 (last pt)

( masterlist )

IN WHICH… Y/N is finally claimed by her father, who turns out to be Zeus. Now, she’s stuck in an empty cabin as the only forbidden child of Zeus. Luke, on the other hand, is thrilled to be playing her knight in shining armour and getting her through each lonely day.

“I’m in the wind, you’re in the water. Nobody’s son, nobody’s daughter.”

( follows the show - kind of just a oneshot bc i’m bored )

Warnings : a little bit of jealousy, arguing, Y/N being indecisive and confused (real), not proof-read

—

TAG LIST : @hottiewifeyyyy @kamiliora @be-bap @finnickodaddy @th0tblckgrl @shoyofroyoyoyo @csifandom @uniquely-her @imafrkinsimp @syraxesrevenge @ahh-chickens @dracoslovergirl @midnightstar-90 @8812-342 @liv1104 @krkiiz @arialikestea @ch16rles @lizziesliz @maryclx01 @jennapancake @lukecastellandefender @yuminako @coryoskywalker @julielightwood @crybabysbakery @jsbaby @liviessun @p3pperm1nttea @angie-esc @purplerose291 @prettylilsimp @10ava01 @froggiesstalks @happy-jj @czennieszn @gisellesprettylies @loveyava @kkrenae

I really hope this part is good enough 🙏

—

Being claimed was perhaps worse than staying in the Hermes cabin. The Zeus cabin was completely empty, much to Y/N’s dismay. Percy was unlucky enough to be a forbidden child too. Looks like neither of them would be having any half-siblings.

“I always knew she was destined for greatness.” Clarisse would say as if the life of a forbidden child wasn’t lonely and utterly isolated.

“Knock, knock.”

But there was one person who could light up the dim Zeus cabin.

“Hope you don’t mind that I brought strawberries. I picked ‘em myself. It was not easy work, let me tell you.” Luke chuckled as he walked in, shutting the door behind him. “Nice place.” He sarcastically said, staring at the cobwebs that littered the walls.

Y/N stared at him, unimpressed and unamused. “Being claimed was supposed to feel great. But I’m just back at square one again.” She huffed and took a strawberry Luke offered her. He sat beside Y/N, gesturing her to continue.

“You know, at least the Hermes cabin had another people. I’m stuck in this deserted cabin because my father finally decided that he wanted to see me! All I’m wondering is why it took so long. Why bother claiming me now?! Percy got claimed in under five days. I know people who have been claimed in one. Why did it take me ten years?! At least I know why I always attract trouble now. It’s because Zeus, that utter man whore, is my dad!”

Luke’s eyebrows silently raised at her words. “You’re welcome in the Hermes cabin any time, Y/N. Don’t forget that. I don’t think your dad was ignoring you… he was probably just waiting.”

“Yeah. Waiting until I finally proved myself to him. Because a child of Zeus should be a prodigy. No normal feat is allowed. It has to be impressive to gain his attention. How dumb.” Y/N scoffed.

“I was fine without him. I’ve gone my entire life never hearing from him and after ten years of being at camp, suddenly he wants to play daddy? He should’ve left me alone. But hey, at least you guys have more room in the Hermes cabin. I heard Chiron was going to move me.”

“What? But you’re practically part of the family. I mean, not exactly. It’d be weird if we were related because… you know… we’re friends and being such good friends with siblings seems weird.” Luke spoke so fast that Y/N couldn’t understand him.

She silently stared at him. “… You’re weird. Chiron just wanted to make more room for the newcomers. And, you know, I had been there for so long that I wasn’t considered new.”

“You okay, though? Your cuts aren’t still hurting? You don’t feel sick, right?” Luke carefully inspected her face and bruised arms, eyebrows furrowed in worry.

“Luke, I’m fine.” She reassured him, laughing. “Nothing hurts anymore.”

“Guess I’ve got to let you win the next game now.” He sighed. “I can’t believe you guessed Poseidon and got it right.”

“I took a wild guess. I wasn’t expecting it to be correct.”

Luke shrugged and stood up. “I need to go check up on some kids. A new group just arrived. Will you be alright by yourself? I can always go get Clarisse.”

Y/N stared up at him and a part of Luke wished she would ask him to stay. To stay in the stuffy cabin and just… talk.

“I think I need some alone time right now.” She softly smiled, resisting the urge to ask him not to walk out, to keep her company. “I just need to process all the shit that went down.”

Luke chuckled, ruffling her hair. “That’s my girl.” He began to walk away before he turned around last minute. “Hey, Y/N… thanks for staying by my side.”

“No problem. Thanks for being my friend, Luke.”

With a wounded heart and the embarrassment of being friend-zoned hanging high over his head, Luke walked out of the Zeus cabin.

Y/N didn’t see Luke again until a few days later. He was always so busy with the new kids but he still had time to leave a small box of strawberries on her porch.

It was dinner when Y/N could finally speak to Luke. She smiled at him and subtly waved and he grinned back. He had been talking with Chris about a boring topic but his eyes lit up when he saw Y/N. Luke stood up to sit with her before he was quickly intercepted.

“Luke.” One of the new girls said, staring up at him with her big doe eyes. She was claimed the moment she stepped into camp by Aphrodite. She seemed to already be her mother’s favourite. “Are you free to sit with me and my friends? We want to ask you a few questions.”

Luke was pulled away by the girl, leaving Y/N to watch him sheepishly grin. Y/N’s smile faltered. “I think he’s avoiding me.” She muttered to Percy, resting her cheek on the palm of her hand. She felt a twisted knot of jealousy well up as a girl giggled and grabbed Luke’s arm. And he let her.

The younger boy looked up in confusion. “Who? Luke? I don’t think so. Girls just seem to really like him.”

Y/N frowned but didn’t say anything else. She could only stare again as the girls around Luke laughed as he uttered something with a bashful smile.

“I’m turning in early.” Y/N said, standing up. She pushed her plate of dessert towards Percy, who slowly took it.

“You good?” He asked.

“Yeah. I’m not feeling well so I think I’m going to sleep early. Good night, Percy.” She deeply inhaled as she walked away, catching Luke’s attention.

“Excuse me, ladies. I’ll be back. I need to talk to someone.” He hurriedly got up, racing after Y/N. Percy, who was eating his second serving of cake, muffled a laugh. Luke was so whipped.

“Y/N.” The brunette boy finally caught up to her. He grabbed her arm, spinning her around. “Why are you leaving early? We haven’t talked for weeks so I thought we could use today to catch up.”

Y/N stared at him in confusion before she turned her head and quietly laughed. She covered her mouth to conceal the noise. “Luke… it’s only been three days.”

His face dropped and he cleared his throat. “I know… I was testing you. That’s all.” Yet his eyes looked at everything but Y/N. “So, how has your cabin been?”

“Lonely. It doesn’t feel the same without Chris ranting about Clarisse.” Y/N sighed, lightly biting the inside of her cheek.

“I’m not sure if I can rant about Clarisse like Chris but I could try keeping you company.” Luke offered, gazing at Y/N with eyes that begged her to agree.

She merely shrugged, not stopping Luke from strutting into her cabin and lying down on her bed. He outstretched his arms, confusing Y/N. “Hug.” Was all he said.

Y/N was never much of an affectionate person but Luke certainly was. His gestures ranged from secretly fiddling with her fingers to picking her up and swinging her around in the middle of the battle arena.

Begrudgingly, Y/N closed the distance between them. Luke grinned, pulling her closer. A few moments later, Y/N attempted to pull away. Luke prevented her from doing so. “Five more minutes.” He whispered in her ear.

But those promised five minutes turned into an hour.

And a peaceful hour turned into all night.

And all night turned into the sun rising and Clarisse waking the pair up.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding, Luke.” The Ares girl snickered, folding her arms over her chest. “Your siblings are wondering where you went. I assume by the lack of clothes on the floor that you two did nothing. How surprising for you, Luke.”

“Clarisse.” Y/N warned, sitting up.

“Okay, okay. I’m going. See you at breakfast, Y/N.” Clarisse sent her friend a teasing wink before she slithered off, laughing to herself.

“Sorry. I fell asleep.” Luke muttered, stretching. He not-so-subtly placed an arm around Y/N and when she didn’t shove him away, he smiled.

“It’s fine. I’ve already prepared myself for whatever gossip is about to spread around camp.” Y/N leaned back, shaking her head, while Luke chuckled.

“Nothing we haven’t dealt with before.” Luke retorted.

Camp Half-Blood seemed obsessed with the little thing going on between Y/N and Luke. Friendship, romance, confusing situationship. The campers called it many things.

“I’m so tired.” Y/N muttered, rubbing her tired eyes. Luke took that as his chance to gaze at her. His eyes traced over the bridge of her nose and the curve of her Cupid’s bow.

He smiled to himself, pressing his face deeper into the crook of Y/N’s neck.

“Luke. We need to get up.” As if suddenly uncomfortable with his close proximity, Y/N stood up.

“Oh. Yeah. I know how you can’t miss breakfast because you get cranky without it.” Luke chuckled while Y/N shoved him.

“Get out, Luke!” Y/N exclaimed, throwing a pillow at him. He bellowed out a laugh as he ran towards the exit.

“See you at breakfast, sweetheart!”

Y/N, with flushed cheeks and a racing mind, barged into the Ares cabin. “Clarisse.” She said, holding onto the doorframe for support. “I need your help.”

“What do you need?” Clarisse questioned as they walked side by side. Y/N sighed.

“Well, for starters, Luke is acting weird. I mean, he was always kind of weird but it’s gotten… more extreme. He’s getting so close and… calling me these pet names. What am I supposed to do? And why does it make me feel shy? Clarisse, help me!”

Y/N gripped her friend’s shoulders tightly. Clarisse lightly snorted. “Y/N, he’s just in love. Let the boy be.”

“In… love? W-With… me? In love with me?!” Y/N’s mind was spinning by now and it looked like this was her mid-life crisis. “He’s not… he can’t be… no… no… No! I have to go, Clarisse!”

Clarisse watched as Y/N sprinted off with the speed of a lightning bolt. “Haha. It’s so fun messing with them.”

“Hey, Clarisse. What’d you say to Y/N?” Luke immediately filled in Y/N’s spot. He furrowed his eyebrows, glancing at Y/N.

“I just told her how in love you are with her.” Clarisse winked and laughed at Luke’s appalled face.

“You… did what?” He questioned, panicking. “Why… why would you do that?! Clarisse! Shit!”

Luke, just like Y/N, rushed off. Clarisse smiled again. “So fun.”

Y/N hid within the comforts of her own cabin. She was supposed to teach some of the newbies archery but she was sure Clarisse could fill in for her.

“Luke… in love with me… no way.” She shook her head and deeply sighed, clutching onto her blanket. “He likes that Aphrodite girl.”

“Hey, sweetheart.” Speak of the devil. Luke opened the door, grinning at her. “Sorry I’m late. I tried meditating but I ended up falling asleep.” Classic him. “I brought you some food. I gotta teach some kids sword-fighting soon but I thought I’d just leave this here.”

Luke had one leg out of the door before Y/N stopped him. “Luke, can you maybe, I don’t know… stay over tonight? Again? It feels less lonely with you.” Y/N spoke slowly, as if testing the waters.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah. Sure. I’d be happy to keep you company. You can count on me, Sparky.”

Y/N scoffed, staring at Luke with her lips parted. “Sparky? No way are you calling me that.”

“Too bad. See ya, Sparky!” Luke managed to close the door before the pillow Y/N tossed his way hit him. She scoffed, looking around yet no words came out of her mouth.

“Sparky… Sparky?!” Y/N exclaimed in disbelief. “What sort of nickname is that?!”

Luke, who stood outside the door and heard Y/N, chuckled. He ran his tongue over his teeth, “Cute.”

A quiet knock on the door interrupted Y/N’s half-conscious nap. She stumbled to the entrance, slowly twisting the knob. “Hey.” She mumbled to Luke, who was holding an armful of snacks.

“Hey, Sparky.” He greeted her with his usual boyish smile. “Did I wake you?”

“I was just taking a small nap. You can always let yourself in, by the way.” Y/N muttered, yawning.

“I didn’t wanna be rude.” Luke replied as he stepped inside, brushing past Y/N. “Hey. I have an idea.” He suddenly said, spinning around. Y/N raised her eyebrows, gesturing him to continue. “I know you don’t like hanging out in this cabin so what do you say we check out the lake?”

“That’s breaking the rules.” Y/N said, shaking her head.

“Come on, I wanna go on a walk. And I’m already breaking rules being here. A few more can’t hurt.”

Y/N wanted to say no but how could she when Luke was looking at her like that?

“Fine.” She softly agreed. Luke dropped the snacks onto Y/N’s bed before dragging her out of her cabin. She didn’t even have time to grab a jacket.

Luke placed a finger over his lips, telling Y/N to be quiet. The two carefully creeped through the words, quietly giggling as they shoved each other.

“It’s prettier at night.” Y/N whispered, staring at the lake that sparkled in the moonlight. Luke smiled, nodding his head.

“Yeah.” He replied, but he wasn’t looking at the glittering water. He was looking at Y/N. “It’s absolutely beautiful.”

Y/N turned her head, faltering when she saw that Luke was already gazing at her. His lips curved into a bright smile.

“So, so… beautiful.” He repeated, staring into her eyes.

“Luke.” She muttered, thickly gulping. Butterflies swirled around in her stomach. After years of pushing down her growing feelings for Luke, they were coming back.

“Y/N.” He chuckled, adjusting his stance. But he slipped and fell into the lake. Y/N gasped, staring into the murky darkness.

“Luke?” She called out. “Luke!” He resurfaced, spitting out a mouthful of water. A few moments passed before Y/N burst into laughter. She stepped forward but tripped over a stray tree root. She hit the water with a loud slap, shocking Luke. He gasped, quickly swimming over. “Sparky, you good?” Luke questioned, holding her tightly.

She coughed. “It hurt a little but I’m good. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah. I’m good. Thanks for asking, Sparky.” He twirled a strand of Y/N’s wet hair around his finger, his gaze flickering to her lips. “Don’t kill me for this, Y/N.” He whispered, leaning forward.

His lips pressed against Y/N’s, who froze in shock. The kiss only lasted a moment before Luke pulled away, holding back the animalistic urge to do it again.

“I won’t kill you… if you don’t kill me.” Y/N quietly responded, grabbing Luke by the front of his shirt and tugging him forward.

The second kiss was less controlled, more wild. Luke held Y/N tightly, scared she would slip away if he lowered his guard. In this moment, Luke didn’t care about his drenched t-shirt or his soaking hair. All he cared about, and had cared about for the last few years, was the girl in front of him

“You kissed?!” Clarisse screamed, tugging on the ends of her curled hair.

“Hey! I don’t want everybody to know!” Y/N hurriedly shushed the girl. They were hanging around in the arena for some extra sword training and Y/N clumsily mentioned last night.

“Okay, but seriously. Reel back. You guys kissed? Not once, but twice? Oh, man, Y/N. You are so whipped for Luke!”

“I am not! Besides,” Y/N fidgeted with her fingers as she spoke, “I heard one of the new Aphrodite girls is interested in Luke.”

“What? And you’re just gonna let her have him? You’ve been crushing on Luke since you first saw him.”

“I wouldn’t call it that! It was admiration.” Y/N quickly snapped to defend herself. Clarisse mockingly raised an eyebrow.

“You couldn’t stop gushing over how he pushed you out of harm’s way when you got claimed.” The Ares kid pointed out.

Y/N huffed. “I mean, I’m a feminist, obviously. But… I wouldn’t really mind him saving me. I’m not entirely opposed… to the idea. I’m just torn, okay?!”

“What are you confused about? Luke obliviously has the hots for you too.”

“Luke and I have been good friends for ages! I’ve known him for ages too! If we start dating and it goes up in flames… I don’t only lose a partner but I also lose a friend! There’s so many factors to consider. So many things that could go wrong.”

“You already kissed. Sooner or later, he’s gonna confront you.” Clarisse’s eyes flickered to a figure behind Y/N, “And looks like he chose now. You wanna talk to him or do you want me to make a distraction?”

“Distraction, please. I’m not ready. I need to understand my own feelings before dealing with his.” Y/N practically begged Clarisse. Being such a good friend, the daughter of Ares nodded.

“I got your back, girl.” She walked past Y/N, blocking Luke’s path. “Yo, Luke, you interested in having a little spar?”

“Uh, actually, I need to talk to Y/N.” Luke uttered, glancing over at the H/C-haired girl.

“Y/N needs to check on someone. One of the Ares kids got badly injured. You go ahead, Y/N. I’ll be with you soon.” Clarisse waved her off. Y/N silently hurried off, avoiding all eye contact with Luke.

She wasn’t ready to face him just yet. I mean, what do you say to a friend you kissed? More like made out with. And passionately, might I add. Beside a lake at night.

Y/N knew Luke would go looking for her an hour before curfew, so that’s exactly why she sought refuge in the Ares cabin.

“This feels stupid.” She murmured as she rolled under one of the bed, shooing the dust away.

“He’s obviously going to try and ask Clarisse about your whereabouts. You only have to hide under there until he leaves.” Erin, a girl who was a year younger than Y/N, spoke. As predicted, Luke knocked at the door.

“Hey.” He said when Erin swung it open. “Is Y/N or Clarisse here? I need to talk to ether of them but Y/N would be preferred.”

Erin shook her head. “No. Clarisse is showering right now. Maybe check Apollo’s cabin for Y/N. She might be helping out with the injured. She does that sometimes.”

The second Luke disappeared, Y/N crawled out from under the bed. She combed away the dust in her hair. “I know what you’re thinking.” She grumbled, looking up at Erin. “Why am I going through all this trouble? It’s complicated. I’m not ready to face him… yet.”

Erin hummed as she stepped towards Y/N. “None of us will be helpful with advice but if you really want help, visit the Aphrodite cabin.”

That’s how Y/N found herself standing on a porch decorated with pink and hearts and shining pearls. She sighed to herself before she hesitatingly knocked. A short blond girl answered the door immediately.

“We’ve been waiting for you.” She said while Y/N stared at her in discomfort. “Not in a creepy way, though. I swear. We knew you’d need help with you-know-who so we kind of planned it already. Come in.”

The girl warmly guided Y/N inside, beaming. “Our head counsellor isn’t here at the moment but Mai should be plenty of help!” The blond girl pointed over to a brunette who sat on her bed, reading a book. She was dressed in black shorts and a pink crop top. But when Mai looked up, Y/N was sure she was judging her.

“On second thought,” Y/N nervously said, “Maybe I should come back another time. Maybe in the afternoon?”

“The time you come doesn’t matter.” Mai piped up, closing her book. She gazed at Y/N curiously. “You’re afraid of expressing your feelings, aren’t you?”

“I didn’t know this was a therapy session.” Y/N lightly joked.

“Y/N, it’s obvious to everybody that you harbour some feelings towards Luke.” Mai said, pressing her pink-tinted lips into a thin line. “You guys are like the dynamic duo. I understand that dating someone who’s also a friend is scary but sometimes you’ve got to take the risk.”

“If you’re scared about going back to your cabin and running into Luke, you can crash here for the night.” The blonde girl from before offered. Nobody else seemed to have any problems with that so Y/N agreed.

She ended up on the bunk next to Mai, her unlicensed love therapist. Y/N tossed and turned but she still couldn’t fall asleep. She quietly groaned, rubbing her eyes.

“Can’t sleep either, huh?” Mai piped up, pursing her lips.

“No. I can’t help but worry.”

“Let me ask you one question, Y/N. Do you like him?”

“Luke?”

“I didn’t say a name.”

Y/N groaned again. “Fine. You got me. Yes. I guess I like him. I like his smile and how he’s always giving me food and how he barges in when I’m feeling lonely. I think his curled hair is adorable and there’s no other guy better-looking than him to me. But… I’m scared that I just like his platonically. Or what if we do date and I end up losing him?”

Mai smiled. “Don’t stress over it too much. You’re the daughter of Zeus, after all.”

“Yeah, thanks. Good night, Mai.”

“Night, Y/N.”

Luke approached Y/N the next day at breakfast. He let out a subtle sigh of relief when she didn’t run away. “Hey,” He whispered to her, tapping her shoulder and interrupting her conversation with Erin and Clarisse. “Can we talk? Alone?”

“Uh, yeah.” Y/N exchanged looks with both of the girls, who nodded and mouthed good luck. “What did you want to talk about?” Y/N asked when they were in the safety of her cabin and away from all the prying eyes. She played with the hem of her bright orange shirt.

“Forgive me for how blunt I’m going to be but what are we, Y/N?” Luke asked, not beating around the bush.

“We’re friends.” Y/N choked out, her conversation with Mai last night going down the drain. Perhaps it was selfish but a part of her wanted to remain friends because at least that way, neither of them would get hurt.

“No.” Luke wildly shook his head, “Friends don’t kiss. Friends don’t spend the night in the other’s cabin. Friends don’t look at each other like we do. Friends don’t sneak out in the middle of the night to go to a lake and end up making out! And now you’re ignoring me!”

His voice increased in volume the more he spoke.

“That was a mistake, Luke! I-I didn’t meant to! It just happened! I’m not ignoring you! What makes you think that?!”

“Well, what am I supposed to think, Y/N? You’re always running off and our conversations are up and down now. Sometimes we don’t talk for days! Sometimes you seem obsessed with me! I don’t know what to think!”

“That’s rich, coming from you!” Y/N furrowed her eyebrows. “If you’re not with Chris then you’re with that Aphrodite girl! You practically ignore me when you’re with her!” Y/N harshly poked his chest.

“I do not! And back to the previous conversation, was it really a mistake? Was hugging me a mistake? Was staring so adoringly at me a mistake? Was kissing me a mistake?! Maybe it was a mistake to you, but it wasn’t to me.” Luke caressed her face, holding it tightly. “Kissing you… will never be a mistake to me. Never, ever.”

Y/N gulped, practically shaking in Luke’s embrace. His lips lightly brushed her’s and she flinched.

“Sparky- Princess- Y/N,” He finally decided on what to call her in the heated moment. “I have feelings for you. And I have for a long time. So if you don’t like me back… just tell me. Because I can’t spend the rest of my life chasing after you. I get that you might be in denial but once I walk through those doors, I’m giving up.”

“Luke…”

“Do you like me or not?”

“Luke… please…” Y/N didn’t really know what she was begging for. Tears welled up in her eyes as he took a small step towards the door.

“Do you like me or not?” He repeated in a firmer tone.

Y/N silently stared at the ground, her hands clenched into fists.

“I guess I was wrong about you returning my feelings… I’m sorry for bothering you. I’ll leave now.”

Y/N’s body moved on its own as she reached out to grab his arm and harshly pull him back. Her voice was supposed to be gentle but hanging out with Clarisse seemed to have an impact on her.

“Of course I like you, Luke! How could I not? But I’m afraid and confused and I don’t know what to do. I see the way other girls look at you. They like you. And I’m scared that I don’t stand a chance against them. And what if we mess up, Luke? If we date then break up, we won’t be able to be friends again. I can’t handle that!”

“I don’t think I can be just friends with you right now, Y/N.” Luke softly replied, taking Y/N’s hand in his and pressing a light kiss to it. Y/N stared at him with flushed cheeks. “I don’t care about any of those other girls. The only person I care about is you. We don’t have to rush into a relationship but I just need to hear you say that you like me. That’s all I need for now. Can you do that for me?”

Y/N shakily inhaled. “I…” She hesitated. “I like you, Luke.”

Luke pulled her into a hug, smiling as he inhaled the sweet scent of Y/N’s perfume. “That’s all I needed to hear, Sparky.”