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jakedustry · 5 months ago

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𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 - 𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐀 𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐈

popular!riki x fem!reader

in which after many of your protests, your friends manage to convince you to go to your school prom, reminding you you don't need a date to have fun, and you even believe them for a second – until you are left alone at your table, with no one to talk to. Fortunately, your close friend shows up right in time to show you prom can be funny after all.

wc 2.8k

warnings none (me thinks) except for kissing

↪ izzy adds... I wrote this a year ago on my wattpad account but thought it would be nice to bring some riki fluff on my tumblr too :)) This is only vaguely proofread!

“I don’t want to go,” you whined, grabbing a hair tie from your table before turning to face the group of girls sprawled on your bed again. “I am serious. First of all, I don’t have anyone to go with, and second of all, I don’t have a dress either,” you explained your reasons when you notice the looks on your friends’ faces.

“But you have to go! Prom is so much fun!” One of the girls exclaimed, ready to argue with you. “It might have been fun if someone asked me to be their prom date,” you mumble, sighing. “Or if you guys were still in school. I don’t want to go alone!” You complained.

Honestly, you didn’t care much about not being asked out for prom. What bothered you more was that none of your friends would be there with you. You were the youngest in your friend group, and with all the girls being a grade above you, it meant there was no one you could talk to.

“People are blind. I don’t get why no one asked you out.”

“It’s whatever. I am not going anyway,” you repeated, sitting on your bed between the two eldest. “Everything got far worse after you left. The girls in my class keep laughing at anyone who breathes. I don’t need them making fun of me because I don’t have a date.”

“You don’t need a date! You can go alone and dance with whoever you want! I swear prom is super fun!” Your friend kept trying to convince you. “And I already finished your dress,” your best friend joined the conversation, making all of you look at her. “What? Really?” Your eyes widened.

She had decided to study fashion design after finishing high school, and she had been promising you she would make a dress for you since the first semester started, but you knew she was busy, so you never paid much attention to it, thinking she wouldn’t have time for it.

“Why haven’t you shown us earlier?!”

Your best friend unlocked her phone, scrolling through her gallery to find a picture. “I thought I told you about it before. And I wanted to bring it tomorrow to see if it needs fixing,” she shrugged. “Here it is,” she turned her phone towards you so you could see first, showing it to the rest of the group afterward.

It was a long midnight blue v-neck piece with a fitted bodice and a sweeping skirt, and you absolutely loved it. Even though you always preferred pants and shorts over a dress or skirt, you could see how much work she had put into making it for you. Seeing the dress made you feel a sudden wave of excitement. You wanted to wear it as soon as possible.

“You are so good!” The oldest gasped. “It’s nothing,” your best friend chuckled, awkwardly rubbing the back of her neck. You knew she was proud of her work, too. “It really does look gorgeous, though,” you assured her, still in awe.

“Well, now you just have to go.” You sighed, “Alright, I’ll go, but you guys have to promise we’ll get an ice cream and sleep over at mine after it.” The girls grinned, agreeing immediately.

♡⸝⸝

You looked into the mirror again, fixing your hair with a smile. Even though you didn’t feel super excited to go out alone, you must admit, you felt pretty tonight. The dress your best friend designed fit you perfectly, and once you put your hair up and let her do your makeup, you found yourself looking forward to the dance more.

“You look stunning,” your best friend assured you, her smile so genuine she might also make you feel like the prettiest girl in the world. “Should we go?” She asked, offering you her arm. You giggled, wrapping your hand around her arm and leaving your room with her.

“No boy will be able to resist you tonight.” You couldn’t hide your smile as you heard your best friend, your confidence slowly building up. You nodded, following her to her car.

Your confidence, however, dropped down again as you ended up alone at your table, staying the only one not dancing.

You ended up sitting at a table in the far corner with a few of your classmates, looking around the place as soon as you sat down. You must say, they did a great job with the decoration. “I am going to get something to drink. Do you guys want anything?” One of the girls asked, putting her handbag on her chair and looking around the table. One of her friends stood up, too, saying she would go with her when their other friends asked for drinks.

You just watched them, not saying anything. They weren’t your friends. Honestly, you barely knew them, so you didn't want to bother them with getting you a drink. It felt awkward sitting there with them, but there was nothing you could do. It wasn't like it would feel any less uncomfortable at the other tables.

Half an hour later, the dance floor was already occupied, with almost no space for any more pairs. You saw a few of your classmates here and there dancing or sitting at their tables and talking to their friends, but you didn't dare to walk up to any of them.

So you ended up sitting alone at your table, watching everyone else enjoy themself while you had nothing to do. You knew you shouldn't expect much when you didn't have a date, but you got your hopes up when you talked to your best friend, and now it made you regret coming here after all.

You shifted in your place, staring at the almost empty glass of coke you got earlier. Playing with your straw, your thoughts drifted away to your friends again. To your actual friends, not just your classmates. You remembered how your best friend would laugh at the stupidest things whenever she was around you and how the eldest in your friend group would always talk about her boyfriend, to the point it annoyed all of you.

You sighed, closing your eyes for a quick second so tears wouldn't fall down your cheeks. You just wanted to be with them.

“How come you are here alone?” You opened your eyes upon hearing the familiar voice, quickly blinking to make all the possible tears disappear before they could even show up. “I thought I was too late,” he mumbled so quietly you almost didn’t hear him. Almost.

“It’s weird that none of the guys here asked you for a dance yet. They are missing out,” he grinned, sitting on a chair beside you. “How long did it take you to learn those lines, Riki? Do you go around asking every girl?” You teased him but couldn’t hide a smile.

You watched him, taking a proper look at what he was wearing. All the boys had a specific dress code: formal pants and a button-down. A vest or a suit jacket were optional, so most of them weren’t wearing them. But he was. He had a black vest on his white button-down, and you could swear he looked better than ever before. It was somehow attractive seeing a man wear a vest even though he didn't have to.

You knew he was attractive. You would be a fool to deny it when all the girls in your grade and the grade under you had a crush on him at one point. But still, it felt as if your eyes had opened only now.

“Now seriously. Why did you reject everyone? I thought you wanted to dance tonight,” he questioned, looking around the place. You shrugged, looking the same way he was, “No one asked me yet. I didn’t get the chance to reject anyone.”

You had met Nishimura Riki last year for the first time. You were running through the school hallway late in the afternoon, being one of the last students still in school. Lessons ended more than an hour ago and you had lost track of time while studying in the school library. It was a pure fate that the two of you met, really. You weren’t planning on stopping. If anything, you almost sped up to get out of school as soon as possible to catch your bus, but you ended up slowing down instead when you heard your favorite song coming from one of the classrooms.

You glanced inside, wondering who was stupid enough like you to be still hanging out in school at this hour. That was when you saw him dancing in the middle of an empty classroom to your favorite song. Back then, he obviously had no idea it was your favorite song, and you had no idea it was one of his, too.

He noticed you standing at the door and froze, a sudden wave of embarrassment brushing over him. He turned the music off immediately, watching you apologize for interrupting. You felt as embarrassed as he did but didn’t move right away. You lingered in the silence, keeping eye contact with him until you felt a blush creeping up your cheeks. You apologized again, running off before he could say anything. It was a chaotic first meeting, but you still managed to get stuck in his head.

You didn’t have a proper conversation with him that day or any of the days prior, but you started greeting each other in the hallways since then, exchanging small smiles or glances from across the room.

It went like so for weeks, with neither of you walking up to each other to actually say something. You didn’t know his name, and you assumed he didn’t know yours either, but you still found yourself looking forward to seeing him between your classes.

And not so long after, when your best friend wanted to introduce you to her boyfriend’s friends, you finally got to hear his name. You stuck together with Riki most of the afternoon, only exchanging a few words with his other friends. It was Riki who your eyes landed on, unable to look away as you found yourself getting lost in your conversation.

You considered him your close friend since.

Riki looked back at you, confused if you were telling the truth or joking. “No one asked you for a dance?” You shook your head at his question, looking down at your glass again. “I swear everyone is blind,” he shook his head in disappointment. “You look amazing today,” he assured you. “You look amazing all the time, actually,” he mumbled, making your cheeks turn pink. “Thank you,” you muttered shyly.

He hesitated for a second, encouraging himself before he stood up. “Do you want to dance?” Your name rolled on his tongue so easily, as if he had said it a million times before. You smiled, looking up at him again. His hand was reached towards you, and he averted eye contact. For the first time in the year you knew him, you saw him without his usual confidence, and it might have been making you more nervous than him. Everything about him tonight made you nervous. The way he stood, talked, and dressed. It all made you weak in the knees.

You carefully took his hand, already worried your hand was sweating. He looked you in the eyes again, holding your hand properly as he took you from the table. The current song was ending, but he still had the next one and hopefully a few songs after that, too.

Riki awkwardly waited for the song to end before looking at you again as he heard the last line. “We are going to kill the next song,” he proclaimed, making you giggle.

“How about something slower for our pairs this time?” His eyes widened, terrified, as he looked at the DJ. Everyone cheered for him, but Riki couldn’t. Not when he wasn’t sure what you would think about dancing with him to a slow song.

He glanced your way again, his eyes scanning your face and trying to see if you were still up for a dance. You looked him in the eyes, trying to figure out the same thing. Eventually, you decided to take the first step and put your hands on his shoulders. He stepped forward, making it easier for you to reach him before he placed his hands on your waist, a sheepish smile on his lips as he looked at you with nothing but love.

It wasn’t a secret to many – actually, he was pretty sure everyone except for you knew – that he had a crush on you for as long as he could remember. Since he saw you in the hallway, with your hair tucked behind your ear, he couldn’t stop thinking about you, and it has been getting worse and worse ever since. And seeing you so close now, trying to keep eye contact with him even though your cheeks were getting hotter the more you looked at him, only made him love you more.

“We can’t really kill this dance,” you mumbled with a smile, trying to ease the atmosphere so it wouldn't get awkward. He chuckled, nodding before he leaned down to you, stopping once his lips reached your ear. “But we can be the best-looking pair.” His words sent shivers down your spine, making your cheeks turn redder than ever before. You stepped closer again, laying your head on his chest so you wouldn't need to look him in the eyes.

You nodded, slightly squeezing his shoulders. “Thank you,” you mumbled. “For dancing with me tonight.” You looked up for a second, assuring yourself he heard you. You had underestimated his visuals, you realized. Now that you were standing so close to him, your bodies touching, seeing him bite his bottom lip at what you said in the purple lighting above the dance floor has made you go crazy.

You felt girls looking at you, trying to murder you with their stares, but you didn’t mind. You couldn’t even think about them when you had a handsome boy right in front of you. Especially when you knew his eyes were on you only.

Your eyes widened in question when you heard your name leave his lips, questioning what he needed. He hesitated for a moment before moving his right hand from your waist to your face, lifting your chin with his thumb and index finger. You were too pretty for him to be able to think straight, no matter how much he tried. “Please don’t kick me for this,” he whispered, leaning down again, this time connecting his lips with yours.

You moved your hand to the back of his neck when you felt his lips on your, pulling him closer to yourself. You were both aware of people staring your way, whispering about god knows what, but you couldn’t care less. This was your moment.

Riki grabbed your hand again, exchanging one look with you before he took you from the dance floor, rushing to the main hall outside where you all left your jackets before. You didn’t question anything and followed him, keeping your eyes on your intertwined hands. “My things are still in there,” you reminded him, having no idea where he was heading. He didn't answer anything, though, not looking back for even a split second.

As he stopped in the middle of the hallway, finally looking at you again, you realized he was looking for a quieter place without so many people around. Honestly, you didn’t care where you were. He could take you anywhere, and you would go with him. Because all you could think about at the moment were his lips.

“I’d kiss you again if your lips weren’t so high up,” you mumbled, creating a grin on his face. He pulled you closer again, leaning down so you could do as you wished. “I thought we were just friends,” he whispered against your lips, making you shiver once again. The look in his eyes, combined with his deep voice would be the death of you soon. You were sure of it.

“You kissed me first,” you reminded him, breathing on his lips so he could get a taste of his own medicine. “So maybe we aren’t really just friends, pretty boy.”

“Definitely,” he agreed, his hands cupping your cheeks as he kissed you again, this time with more passion, making sure you could feel every last bit of his love on your lips.

✧˖°. izzy's tags @beomiracles @adel222 @hwanghyunjinismybae ✧˖°. want to get notified? join taglist here!

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anifever · 9 months ago

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Dating Darry Curtis HC’s ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Darrel “Darry” Curtis x Fem!Reader

୨୧ : What I think dating ‘Superman’ would include

A/N : I’ve been busy but school’s out now so hopefully I can work on requests 💔. Also ily Jake Gyllenhaal but they should’ve never remade Roadhouse..

˖⁺‧₊˚ 🕊️ ˚₊‧⁺˖

୨ I hate to say it (not really), but you’re like a married couple

୨ The gang calls you mom and dad as a joke

୨ You guys are so sitting on a porch with wind chimes and birds chirping in the bg and the warmth of the sun hitting your skin coded

୨ You’re so disgustingly in love and it makes everyone sick

୨ I feel like bcs of how he’s portrayed and the responsibilities/stress he takes on from the entire gang, it makes him seem way older than he is

୨ That’s also probably due to Patrick Swayze being 31 instead of 20 while filming and also being 15 years older than C Thomas Howell irl instead of the 6 year age gap their characters actually had…

୨ Anyways, you help him actually act more his age

୨ You convince him to go out more, etc

୨ Everyone’s happy to see him let loose once in a while

୨ Like you guys mess around when you bake/cook together by throwing flour at each other and giggling omg I’m vomiting

୨ You guys are sometimes (very rarely) even spotted at Buck’s together and Dallas has to do a double take

୨ You also bribe the boys to give you guys or just him in general some alone time LMAO

୨ You absolutely slow dance in the kitchen. Idc.

୨ He’s the type to call you “a real treat” when you dress up or do something nice for him

୨ Going shopping together and him walking around with his lil’ glasses reading the grocery list while you push the cart

୨ Sitting in his lap while he reads the newspaper ohahahwbrbrbnrne

୨ You guys definitely met early on; slow burn

୨ You were SO ‘So High School’ by Taylor Swift when you were a little bit younger

୨ Been in the works of writing a ff abt that..

୨ FINALLY officially asked you out senior year for prom and you’ve been together since, even though you guys were in love way before that

୨ You definitely have to get in between his and Pony’s fights a lot

୨ Soda comes to you for advice, no matter what it is- he thinks it’s refreshing to have someone new to talk to rather than constant arguing, yada yada

୨ Dallas either flirts with you to piss Darry off or he has a relationship with you like he did with Mrs. Curtis. No in between.

୨ The type of man to give you foot massages

୨ On the contrary, you also massage his shoulders

୨ Johnny probably had a tiny crush on you when you first met him years back, but it went away when you guys started dating

୨ Went away to an extent at least..

୨ Him standing between your legs while you’re sat on the sink shaving his face for him GODODODODID

୨ He says “honey, I’m home” unironically

୨ He’s able to pick you up pretty easily no matter your weight

୨ He does it a lot and it’s mainly to show off LMAO

୨ You guys play checkers together and genuinely enjoy it which doesn’t help your mom/dad allegations

୨ EXTREMELY good at calming you down whether it’s a panic attack, etc

୨ He might lose his temper a lot on his brothers, but he never does it with you

୨ If he ever does accidentally snap at you, he apologizes to no end

୨ He’s touching you whenever he can; a hand on your waist, around your shoulder, keeping you on his lap, a finger in your belt loop, etc

୨ Speaking of belt loops, you pulling him in by the loops or his belt buckle to kiss him⁉️⁉️⁉️ I’m losing it

୨ Whenever any sort of errand needs to be run, he either forces Pony/Soda to do it, or makes you come with him alone

୨ He buys you flowers whenever he has the extra money ☹️

୨ Has his moms wedding ring kept someplace safe to give to you one day

୨ On another note, she loved you so much before she passed

୨ She was also constantly teasing him about you two when you guys were younger

୨ If he’s exhausted from work and flops onto the couch with you, don’t expect to be getting up anytime soon

୨ Back to the ‘him going out more’ point- you guys go to rodeos together whenever he knows Pony is being watched by someone else

୨ Calming lil’ picnics together by a lake

୨ He unfortunately will have to cancel plans a good amount because of work-related stuff, but you completely understand

୨ He’s pretty stubborn about letting you help with money, but he gives in sometimes

୨ You leave him cute notes in the lunch that he takes to work <\\3

୨ He for sure keeps a hand on your thigh or knee while driving

୨ There’s no doubt in my mind you’d grow old together

୨ He’s thankful for you in so many ways and is glad you’re able to help his life feel normal again and like an actual 20 year-old

#darry curtis x reader #darrel curtis #darry curtis #darrel curtis x reader #darry curtis x you #darrel curtis x you #the outsiders #the outsiders fanfiction #the outsiders imagine #the outsiders x reader #the outsiders x you #the outsiders darry #darry curtis imagine #darrel curtis imagine #outsiders x reader #outsiders #curtis gang #patrick swayze #curtis gang x reader

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ashwhowrites · 8 months ago

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OMG I CANT BELIEVE REQS ARE OPEN YAYAAYAYAYAYAYYYYY

okay so basically i was wondering if you could do something with popular!bully!eddie x sensitive!reader

okay okay. so reader and eddie like each other but its a secret from the other and eddie bullies her lightly (cos he doesnt know how to deal with emotions) and shes super insecure cos she has like no friends and stuff and he went prom dress shopping with chrissy and saw reader there and teased her about the dress she picked and she got sad and cried at home then its prom and eddie's rejected everyone cos hes waiting for reader to show up and finally confess but shes nowhere to be found so he goes to her house with flowers or smth and he finds her crying and he comforts her and has her put her dress on and they kiss

IM SORRY IF THIS MAKES NO SENSE!!!

but thank you SO MUCH ash your writing is literally amazing it always has me in my feels <333 thank you for bringing so much happiness (and angst LMAO) to my feed!!

You are so sweet!! Thank you so much 🫶🏻I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting!

Prom Dress

Eddie never had a good hand on his emotions, he never learned how to express what he felt correctly. All he saw growing up was expressing emotions through anger. His dad was never around to tell him about girls and his mom was never there to teach him how a girl wants to be treated. So he went with what came naturally, except he barely ever felt real feelings towards a girl.

Until he met Y/N

Eddie was popular, it was easy to have girls on his arm and in his bed. But he didn't have feelings for them, so it was easy sweet talk and then they wouldn't talk again. But it was like his brain froze when he was in Y/N's presence. His sweet talk was out the door as he stuttered out something to say, and it was always a comment that sent her over the edge. He just didn't know that.

Y/N was a very alone person. She wasn't the best at making friends, making peace with being her own friend. She was insecure, never telling a boy how she felt because she knew it would go the exact way she thought it would. And when she realized her heart raced when Eddie walked in the halls, she knew that one would never happen.

Plus she has a good damn feeling he hated her guts. He added fire to the hell she lived in but there was something about him that she wanted. She allowed herself to be his punching bag because she felt alive when his eyes were on her. He was practically the only person that talked to her, and she didn't want to give that up.

Because at the end of the day, she had Eddie Munson's attention.

~~~

Eddie groaned as Chrissy picked up another dress to try on. He looked at his watch, annoyed that they had been in the same shop for two hours.

"At this point, Jason won't care what you pick. Can we please go?" Eddie moaned, his head thrown back as he sat on the uncomfortable chairs.

"You're fine. I have two more dresses and then we'll leave!" Chrissy sighed, going into the changing room.

Eddie moved his head back and looked around the store. He blinked a few times when he saw someone familiar. He stood up and slowly walked closer, squinting his eyes as a girl walked away from the register with a puffy pink dress.

"Y/N?"

She froze as she recognized the voice. Already on edge as she turned out. Panic in her eyes as she met his brown ones.

"Hi Eddie," she said, a small smile as she greeted him politely.

"Is that your prom dress?" He asked, his eyes looking over her shoulder as she held it.

"Yeah," she said quietly

"So you are going to prom? What? Alone?" He scoffed, a mocking chuckle left his mouth and Y/N shifted on her feet uncomfortably.

"Um, I don't know yet. Depends if someone asks" She shrugged

Eddie felt his body burn, a sense of discomfort thinking of someone asking her. Some guy takes her, takes pictures, and spins her on the dance floor. Someone she would have gotten dressed up for. He wasn't sure why the thought made him so damn angry. But the good news for him, he knew how to express anger.

"Ask you? You know that's not going to happen" he argued, his eyes dark as he stared down at her. "And while you are wearing that? A puffy pink dress, you think you are some fairytale princess? That dress looks like it's for a five-year-old old" He teased, but it wasn't his usual tease. This time it felt like every word he said sliced through her.

The one dress that fit her like a glove. The one dress that made every problem wash away. A dress where for once she felt beautiful.

She didn't say anything, just turned around and walked out of the store.

She cried as she raced to her car, harshly throwing the dress in the backseat. She cried the whole way home, feeling helpless in this world. She wasn't sure why it felt like everything was always up against her.

~~~

It was the night of the prom, and Y/N ignored the dress that hung up in her closet.

She bought it a week ago, a week since Eddie ruined the one bit of confidence she had left.

She wanted to return it, but the store wouldn't take it. So now she was stuck with a reminder that she would never be the gorgeous girl who walked into prom and changed everyone's perspective of her. She would still be that loser everyone laughed about.

So she stayed home. Her parents weren't too involved with her life, out on vacation as she sat on the couch. She watched romantic movies, crying as she stuffed her mouth with chocolate ice cream.

Eddie checked his watch for the tenth time of the night. The loud music overwhelmed him as he kept his eyes on the door.

"Want to dance?" A girl from the cheerleading squad asked.

"No thanks. I'm waiting for someone" he said with a tight smile, then moved his eyes back to the door

The prom started two hours ago, and she still wasn't there.

He turned down about ten dances before he took matters into his own hands.

He grabbed his keys from his pocket and hit the road. The flowers he bought sat in his passenger seat, guess he was going to drive them to her instead.

He pulled up to her driveway, letting out a nervous breath as he got out. He fixed his suit, patted down his hair, and gripped the flowers. He knocked on the door, stepping back as he waited for it to open.

"Eddie?" She was surprised, her body mostly covered by the door. Some sort of protection for herself.

He looked up and frowned. Her eyes were red and her cheeks were wet. And she wasn't anywhere near dressed up for prom. Her hair was down, but no makeup on her face.

"Hey, can I come in?" He asked

"Why?" She asked, covering her body even more with the door

"Why didn't you come to prom?"

She was surprised he even noticed. But she was more curious as to why it mattered to him.

"Didn't want to go. Is that all?" She snapped. It was enough that he could torture her at school and outside of school. But at her own house is where she drew the line.

"Um, uh, these are for you," he said shyly, not used to her face looking so annoyed and a snap in her tone.

She eyed the flowers as he held them out for her. She opened the door wider to grab them. They were truly beautiful and it was the first time she ever received flowers.

"Oh um thank you, Eddie," she said, smelling the flowers

"Can I come in? Maybe we can talk?" He asked, he twiddled his fingers as he waited for her to reply

"Uh sure but don't you have like a date or something?" She asked

"No, I was waiting for you," he said honestly, for once just saying what he felt instead of turning it into a joke.

She didn't know what to say so she opened the door and let him step inside.

She walked to the kitchen and got a vase for the flowers. He followed without asking.

"So why were you waiting for me? Was a big bucket of red paint gonna fall over me?" She asked, watching as the water filled the clear vase.

"No, why would I do that?" He asked, his head turned like a confused puppy

She laughed to herself bitterly

"Because you make my life hell" She looked at him like it was obvious. Softly placing the flowers on the kitchen table.

"I don't mean to, I'm sorry" his eyes looked sincere but she wasn't sure what trap he was waiting for.

"Then why do you do it?" She asked, her arms crossed as she angrily looked at him. Maybe this was her chance to finally stick up for herself and tell him to shove everything up his ass.

"Because I like you, and I wasn't sure how to show that" he explained, a small blush formed on his face as he muttered the words.

Y/N stood frozen as she stared at him like he had two heads.

Eddie confessed he liked her?

What kind of prank was this?

"Which I can see now I did in every wrong way possible. I'm sorry for everything, I didn't know I was upsetting you."

She sighed as the apology lifted some weight off her body. It felt nice to finally be apologized to.

"Thank you for apologizing," she said, a small smile on her face

"Thank you for allowing me to," he said, a shy smile on his face

They stared at each other, neither knowing what the next move should be.

"Can I uh see your dress? I saw it in the store but didn't get to see what it looked like on you" he asked, his eyes moving to the floor

"Are you going to make fun of me?" She asked, her arms crossed. Her protection shield is back up.

"No!" He shook his head dramatically, "I know my horrible take on flirting was more hurtful. So I will keep my mouth shut" he said

"That was flirting? God, you are horrible" she joked, loving the way the air shifted into something lighthearted. He laughed with her and agreed.

She led him to her room, allowing him to sit on the bed as she went into the bathroom to change.

She slipped on the pink dress, looking at herself in the mirror. That same rush of confidence filled her body. It was like the dress was magical and healed every broken part of her. She tried to reach the back zipper but couldn't get it. Her face was already on fire as she realized what she had to do.

She walked into the room, Eddie looked up from his hands and his mouth dropped. His eyes skimmed over her dress, the way it hugged her body perfectly.

"Could you zip me up?" She asked, turning around as she tried to keep her breathing normal.

He coughed and stood up. Wiping his sweaty palms on his suit pants. His fingers danced down her spine, making her shiver. He reached the zipper and slowly pulled it up, her skin disappearing under the fabric.

The room felt thick as she slowly turned around. The ghost of his fingers was still on her back.

"You look breathtaking," he said, his voice a quiet whisper as he looked into her eyes

She gulped when his eyes dropped down to her lips. Then he was slowly leaning in.

His hand moved up to hold her cheek, and his eyes moved up to her eyes to check for a sign of rejection. But her eyes were zoned in on his lips.

He smirked as he noticed, slowly leaning in until his lips pressed perfectly against hers.

She wasn't sure where to put her hands so she softly placed them on his chest. Her head turned as he deepened the kiss.

She felt like he kept chasing her lips, sucking away her breath as she gripped his suit in her fingers.

Her body buzzed with electricity. His lips and hands were softer than she thought they would be. His kiss was gentle and slow. Her stomach fluttered and her head spun.

He held back his moans as he slipped his tongue in her mouth. Her lips were soft and warm. Her hands on his chest made his heart race and his face flush. He tried his best to not get carried away, not wanting to scare her. His free hand slipped to her back as he pushed her further against him. He never felt this way ever when he kissed a girl.

She pulled back when she felt like she couldn't breathe. She took a huge puff of air into her lungs as they kept their faces close.

Panting against each other as they looked into each other's eyes.

Like she said, it was a magical dress.

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thejakeformerlyknownasprince · 25 days ago

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I'd love to know how the cover date with A-Town actress Ash Lewis and Tom went down. What did they talk about? Were they friends by the end, do they stay in contact? Did they and their partners meet up before or after? What does Ash think about her role and meeting the inspiration for it?

[For those of you just tuning in: A-Town is the shitty postwar sitcom inspired by the life of Jake Berenson, to the eternal annoyance of Jake Berenson. Ash Lewis plays the main character's older sister Daisy, a dumb blond lacrosse player controlled by a yeerk named Zeptron 420.]

This whole thing felt like going to senior prom.

Not that I’d ever actually been to senior prom. There'd been a show of sending me, Essa 412 giving Mom and Dad the runaround even to the point of getting the yeerk inside Vi Alden to show up in a dress. 30 seconds out the door, the formalwear had been swapped out for jeans and dracon rifles; our bodies had spent the night clearing wildlife out of a build site in the hopes of giving the “andalite bandits” nowhere to hide before the new community center opened up.

But I’d seen enough movies to know that this was how prom was supposed to work: A limo out front, a flower in my hand, a terrifyingly beautiful woman standing at the end of my parents' driveway.

Ashleigh Lewandowska wore a shimmering strapless gown in a color somewhere between gold and silver and lilac and rose, depending on how it caught the light. The silky fabric could only have been custom-sewn for her body, from the perfect way it hugged her curves and cut high enough in front to show one knee before trailing down in the back to an inch above the ground. Jessica Rabbit come to life, and then melded with Jessica Alba.

"Hi," I said, smiling awkwardly. “You look amazing." I handed her my sprig of lilies, feeling like I was putting a Pokemon sticker on a bottle of champagne.

“You clean up pretty nicely yourself,” she said.

I glanced down at my own attire. We’d gone for a deep purple button-down and a charcoal gray suit, but skipped the tie and cuff links. Allegedly this was the fashion right now. “Thanks,” I said. “I should hope so, since my cousin spent the last week using me as her personal Ken doll.”

She laughed. “Welcome to Hollywood.” She stuck out a hand, silvery bracelets jangling. “Call me Ash.”

I shook gently. “Tom. Nice to finally meet in person.”

There was a blinding flash; I flinched in surprise, but Ash turned automatically toward the light.

“Wow,” I said loudly. “After all your whining about paparazzi, you go and join them.”

Jake stepped up next to me, stuffing the disposable camera into his hoodie pocket. “It’s not paparazzi-ing if I don’t publish the photos,” he said. He stuck out his own hand. “I’m Jake. Big fan.”

Ash laughed, taking his hand. “Ash. And I’m a big fan of yours. Besides...” She looked over at me. “Aren’t photos the whole point of the evening?”

“Yeah.” I smoothed down my jacket, even though I had Rachel’s assurances it hung perfectly. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“Shall we, then?” Ash gestured to the limo.

“Uh.” I lunged to open the door for her, although I could tell from her laugh that that wasn’t what she’d meant.

Ash slid into the limo, scooting down the seat so I could perch next to her.

“Have him home before nine,” Jake called after us, “and don’t drink the jungle juice!”

I flipped him off before pulling the door closed behind me.

In cool interior of the limo’s passenger compartment, Ash’s presence was even more overwhelming. She was stunningly beautiful with her delicate updo of blond curls, her full figure accentuated by the dress’s curves, her flawlessly smooth skin. But there was an untouchability, a faint unnaturalness, about her beauty. It was less like being on a hot date, more like being in the presence of an alien goddess.

Maybe it was just that I knew for a fact she had no interest in men. Lack of attraction was always going to be a turn-off.

“So.” She shifted to sit across from me, leaning forward to brace both hands on her knees. “Some ground rules.”

“Yeah. I’m listening.”

She shook her head. “I mean we both set ground rules. This is improv, but improv never means anything-goes.”

“Improv?”

“An improvisational performance. We have the outlines of what we’re doing, and we’re making it up as we go.”

“Ah.” The car lurched as the driver pulled away, causing me to slide sideways on the seat when I didn’t catch myself in time. Ash put out a hand as if to steady me, but pulled back when she saw I was good.

“Sorry.” She shrugged. “No seatbelts in limos.”

“All right, I’ll start there.” I shifted in my seat. “My reaction time is complete crap. I assume you’ve done a fair bit of reading about zombies for the role?”

She twitched a little at zombies. “I’m not claiming to be an expert.”

“Sure. What you should know is that that much of the stereotype is true, at least for me. I’m slow to respond to pretty much anything sudden, and one way that shows up is I’m terrible with facial expressions.” I gave her an apologetic smile. “I’m going to do my best to sell this, but you’re going to be carrying most of the weight.”

“Ah, so you’re a bad actor.” Ash nodded with mock solemnity. “That, I can work with.”

“Cool. Just think of me as your extremely well-dressed cardboard cutout,” I said.

She laughed again. “Okay. And I’ll keep in mind that I shouldn’t necessarily check on your face to see if you’re interested in something.”

“Yeah.” I made an open-palm gesture to her. “‘preciate it.”

“For me...” She held up a perfectly manicured finger. “No touching of boobs, hips, or butts—”

“God no!” I blurted. “Uh, no offense, but...”

“Goes both ways, good, got it.” She held up a second finger. “Closed-mouth kissing on the cheek or maybe the neck is okay with me, if and only if it’s okay with you.”

I thought about it. “Let me ask Bonnie?”

“Totally. And for the record, I already ran all this by Sierra.”

“Cool.”

I tapped out a text as Ash rummaged in the giant handbag that sat next to her minuscule purse on the seat, finding her own phone.

“Bonnie’s fine with that,” I said when I got a reply. “But I’ve been told not to fall in love with you, and also called a ‘narcissist’ three times in four texts.”

Ash gave a tinkling little laugh, one hand coming up to cover her mouth. “I’ll have to meet this Bonnie.”

I glanced up at her. “Totally incognito double date, next weekend at Shake Shack?”

“Let me text Sierra,” she said.

Sierra was in, it transpired. And we hammered out most of the rest of the rules: arms around the shoulder or waist were okay, sitting in laps a no-no. Splitting a dessert was fine, putting two straws in one drink a little too far. Holding hands was encouraged. We’d tell anyone who asked that we were friends, and if pressed to elaborate would say we were friends getting dinner together. We’d tell the truth about our names, and the fact that we’d met through Ash’s research for A-Town.

I was allowed to make jokes about dating my double, but strongly discouraged from expressing an opinion about A-Town or about Ash’s character Daisy. If all else failed, I should claim I had never seen the show but I’d heard a lot about it and was planning to check it out in the future. If anyone planted the suggestion that we were at dinner because I was helping Ash with her research, I was to encourage the idea without confirming it.

Also, whenever possible, I’d be letting Ash do all the talking.

“You ready?” Ash asked.

I glanced out the window, surprised to discover the limo had pulled up at the curb. She was easy to talk to, for a superhero princess in an outfit that cost more than my car.

“Will there be photographers right away?” I asked.

She nodded. “Probably. This place publishes its guest lists, which is part of why I made the reservation here, but it also keeps in business through requiring a level of respect from the hangers-on.”

“Cool.” I smoothed my hands over my pants. I was so glad we’d cut off my hair down to its usual buzz; trying to mess around with the loose poof of curls I wore it in at college would’ve given me too many opportunities to fidget. Same reason I'd left the glasses at home.

“Hey.” Ash put her hand gently on mine. “Thanks for doing this.”

I smiled up at her. “What, pretending that I’m in any way desirable enough to attract a Hollywood A-lister? Yeah, the impact on my reputation is gonna be a real hardship.”

“‘A-lister’ is definitely overstating it. And you know what I mean.”

I did, of course. Ash was aspiring for fame, anyway, and she’d attracted a good few offers for small film parts through her work playing fake-me on A-Town. But if she had any hope of a film career, no one could know about her quiet long-term relationship with another woman. There couldn’t even be rumors. Not in that direction, anyway.

There were rumors already, as it stood. Which is why Marco had texted us both to set up this little pantomime.

We were here to make a new batch of gossip. Through manufacturing a story too odd, too delicious, too ridiculous for the press to pass up: the actor who played a fake version of Jake Berenson’s sibling on TV, entering into a fling with Jake Berenson’s real-life actual sibling. In reality Ash’s character was only loosely inspired by yours truly, there having been no actual research involved in the construction of Daisy A or Zeptron 420. But the fact that Ash played me on television was going to be too delightfully ironic for most tabloids to pass up.

“Good to go?” Ash asked.

I nodded. “Just like we practiced.”

“Something like that.”

She leaned to the far side of the car and swung the door open. I expected her to get out right away, but she made a whole production of swinging one leg out the door and planting her foot on the ground. She left it there for a few seconds before she curled a hand around the door frame and slowly pulled herself out of the car, posture careful and head high.

“It’s Ash Lewis!” Someone called from outside. And then there was an explosion of overlapping sound.

Ash turned, making eye contact where I still sat. She winked.

Swallowing, I scooted over. She put out her hand, and I took it.

My own exit from the car wasn’t nearly as graceful, but Ash made sure we were gazing at each other the entire time. The lightning-strikes of flashes were already going off around us, people with everything from cell phones to full news cameras crowding forward at a barely-respectful distance. Now I understood why she’d taken her time — it gave the bush-lurkers time to realize just who was climbing out of the latest stretch limo amidst an entire fleet of them.

“Ash, any comment on the rumors of a film contract?” someone shouted.

“Hey Ash, who’s—”

“Ash, smile for us!”

“Ash, who are you wearing?”

“Over here, Ash—”

“—your new beau?”

“I love you, Daisy!”

I suppressed a wince at that one. Hopefully she didn’t mind no one being able to tell the difference between her and her character. Hopefully it wasn’t like when people —

“Visser Seventeen?” a voice broke through.

Now I did wince. I’d stopped dead on the edge of the sidewalk, expression frozen. I didn’t know if I could...

“Tom Berenson,” Ash said loudly, and the crowd fell silent for the sound bite. “We’re going for dinner, it’s a Balenciaga, can’t say about the film, and I love you all too!”

With that, she slid an arm around my waist and started steering me toward the door.

I smiled. I waved. I tried not to look like too much of a fool.

Several people yelled questions to me. A few yelled questions about me to Ash. A few, apparently, addressed their questions to the dearly departed spirit of Essa 412. Ash fielded the entire gauntlet, half-shielding me with her body as needed.

“Thanks,” I muttered, as we approached the host stand.

Ash nodded. “Think it’ll rain?”

That was another one we’d done in the car — either of us could drop the phrase blue skies at any time to mean get me the hell out of here.

“It just might, yeah,” I said. Giving the all-clear.

“Ash Lewis and Tom Berenson.” This time Ash spoke much louder, probably so the mics could pick it up.

The host ran his finger down the list, nodding. “Here we are. Right this way, ma’am. Sir.”

We followed him out of the hard-bright spotlight outside, stepping into a velvet-muffled interior like sliding underwater.

“Oh,” I whispered. There were dozens of little round tables, each tucked away into semi-enclosed nooks around the edge of the room. “This isn’t bad at all.”

Ash tapped the side of her nose. “Don’t worry, plenty of eyes and ears in here too.”

Ah. So a fair percent of the other diners would be reporters or hangers-on. Made sense.

But it was still far less overstimulating than the cacophony outside. Our table was draped in a white linen cloth, the enclosing walls in burgundy velvet. No one was going to hear us unless we raised our voices, and the only photographs possible would be low-lit and far away.

“So,” I said to Ash, after pulling out her chair and helping her sit. “Come here often?”

She laughed, head tossed so that her curls cascaded attractively. Exaggerated, but warm. “This is my first time with a date, anyway.”

“I’m honored.”

I was running a mental check: elbows off table, legs uncrossed, posture straight. Eyes on my date, even when I heard a click of a muffled shutter somewhere off to my right.

“Ms. Lewis.” A different guy in a tuxedo had materialized where the host had been a second ago. “What a pleasure to have you back.”

“Good to be back,” Ash said, smiling up at him.

“Will you be starting with some wine tonight?” he asked.

“The usual. And we’ll take a few of those menus as well.” Apparently, she had to request menus.

“Naturally.” He held them out on top of a freaking tray. Ash took one without comment.

“Uh, thanks,” I said, lifting the leather portfolio. Feeling like a kid getting sticky fingerprints on my mom’s paperwork. Wondering why I hadn’t done the math before now that generating trashy gossip would be so highfalutin.

The waiter bowed — I’m not kidding, he actually bowed — and glided away.

“We’re getting wine?” I asked in an undertone.

Ash lifted her head. “You are over twenty-one, right?”

I nodded. “Are you?”

She smirked, tapping a finger against her lips. Got it, never ask a Hollywood dame her age — lies were a survival tactic. And she did play the sixteen-year-old version of me on TV. Wouldn’t do to imply she might be a day over nineteen.

Opening the menu, I skimmed down the column of French- and Italian-labeled food things. And then I stopped, my eyes skipping to the right, and read that column instead.

“Are these...” I leaned in closer, squinting at the tiny font. No sign of any decimal points, but I could see a few commas. “Are these prices in dollars?” I hissed.

Ash brought her hand up to her mouth, not quickly enough to hide her smile.

I flushed.

“It’s already paid for, Tom.” She reached across the table to put two fingers on my wrist.

“No, I...”

We’d agreed she’d be picking up the tab, but still. What the fuck could they have possibly done to that pigeon to make it worth twelve hundred fucking dollars? It was a pigeon. They were free for anyone with sharp eyes and fast talons, all over the friggin city.

“I didn’t realize the schmoozing and boozing part of this could be so pricey,” I said at last.

“You said no major food allergies?” She raised her eyebrows.

“Just pineapple.”

She folded her menu so that she could look across the table, making eye contact. “Do you trust me?”

I considered, rather than giving her a knee-jerk answer. Trust her with my life? Not exactly. Trust her with this?

“Sure.” I smiled. “Go wild.”

She did, in fluent French, when the waiter returned. My life was really in her hands now.

“All right,” she said, turning back to me. “It’s going to be a while, so go ahead and give me something.”

“Something...?”

“You’re coaching me on my acting, remember?” She grinned. “So, lay it all out.”

I laughed, glancing away across the restaurant. “Oh, you don’t want that. I’m not an actor. Or anything close.”

“No high school plays?” She was smirking now. “Middle school pageants? Elementary school musicals?”

“Not a one.”

“Look, just...” She tossed her hair again. It was sort of terrifying to watch. “Tell me one thing the show gets wrong.”

I raised my eyebrows. “What, just one?”

She laughed. “Artistic license aside. What about the performances would you change if you could?”

“Seriously, all that comes to mind is hiring a better lion-actor,” I said. “Which I assume is off the table.”

“Oh god, that friggin lion.” She groaned, just exaggerated enough you could still believe in it.

“Wait.” I leaned across the table, looking hard at her. “They put you guys on set with a live lion?”

Ash shook her head so hard her earrings rattled. “No, no!”

“Good, because I was about to have to call, I don’t know, OSHA or—”

“You’re sweet, but there's no need.”

“I mean, after Siegfried and Roy, that would’ve just been..." I gave an exaggerated wince.

“Yes, exactly.”

I leaned back in my seat, heart rate slowing. Seriously. As a guy who’d been mauled by a tiger before — and that’d been a tiger who was motivated to keep me alive — I really would’ve gone to the SPCA with a complaint if some off-prime show had been letting its actors in the same room as giant cats for attention.

“The lion's on the same set as the humans, but never at the same time.” Ash sipped her drink, using the motion to glance around and then lean in closer to me. “The trainers bring him in, toss a few of his toys on the floor, and let him do whatever he feels like until he inevitably gets bored and drops down for a nap. Then they send him away, and the producers write the scene around the footage they managed to get.”

There was another click from somewhere to our left, but thankfully no flash. For good measure I reached across the table, and let Ash put her hand overtop mine.

"Anyway, tell me something else," she said. "What do you think of Daisy? Or Zeptron, for that matter?"

I turned my head half-away from the room, speaking in an undertone. "I thought I wasn't supposed to know too much about A-Town?"

Ash shook her head. "Just don't answer any reporters' questions about it. Otherwise we should be fine."

"Okay." I blew out a breath. "I mean, I love your work. Zeptron is, I'm sure I don't have to tell you, the best part of the show. I assume you've seen the fan sites and know that already."

"According to the fan sites," Ash said, "Trina's the best part of the show. Followed by Gina, followed by Zeptron. Not that anyone's counting."

"And Bonnie says I'm a narcissist," I said.

"Maybe she's right. We all need friends to keep us humble."

Just a hair of emphasis, on the word friends. Got it. No talking about Bonnie where the microphones could hear, or at least no acknowledging who she was to me. "Okay, you want feedback?" I said. "On how to more realistically be fake-me onscreen?"

"I do," Ash said. "That's why we're here."

I considered the question. Obviously if I'd been casting myself I wouldn't have gone for a pouty-lipped blond chick, but that was beside the point. "Okay, fine," I said.

"Uh-huh?"

"The..." I raised a hand to my ear, poking at it with the end of my finger. "What's with the going like this all the time?"

Ash laughed, definitely a real laugh this time. I was imitating a gesture that she made three, five, sometimes ten times an episode.

"What," I said, laughing myself, "is Zeptron worried she's about to fall out? Is that what it's supposed to be? Like a..." I mimed catching an object that was about to fall out of my own ear.

"Yes." Ash giggled. "Yes, I'm adding that to the show notes. Zeptron is constantly on the verge of falling out, and that's why the..." She did a much better job than me, of course, of getting across the subtly ominous way that we constantly saw Zeptron patting at Daisy's ear.

"Seriously, though. Why?"

"Pizza effect, as we say in the biz." She raised both hands, pressing them to her ears like worried they were about to fall off. "If someone's pizza delivery arrives midway through the episode, you have to be able to answer the door, pay the driver, sit back on the couch, and pick up the episode without having missed anything important. And that's not even taking into effect the people who stop channel-surfing and start watching midway through an episode."

"So..."

"So we have to get across the idea that 'Daisy'" — she made air quotes around the name, and I kind of loved her for it — "isn't just the world's meanest teenager for some reason. We need the audience to catch onto the fact that Daisy isn't Daisy. And we need to remind them of that fact as often as possible, in case they ordered a pizza before starting the episode."

"Huh. So you..." Again I did the ear-poking gesture. "Okay, fine, that makes sense." And I did approve of the goal of distinguishing Daisy from Zeptron. Otherwise you ended up known as Visser Seventeen for the rest of your fucking life.

"Yeah. Like I said. We don't want the audience assuming Brandon's sister hates him for no reason."

"Fine, fine, I'll let you guys have the ear-poking thing."

"What else?" she asked.

I blew out a breath. This was not my wheelhouse, at all, and to be honest I had never watched an entire episode of A-Town from start to finish. Mostly I absorbed factoids about it from Jake's ranting. "Uh, my cousin Jordan says that Trina should stop going back and forth between Liam and J.J., and just date them both. But that doesn't apply to Zeptron."

Ash gave another real laugh. "Oh, I wish," she said. "But yeah, that'd be a note for the writing room. I'm just a humble actor."

The food arrived then, on six different plates. Which was fortunate, because each one had just a tiny spray of food amidst vast empty space barely broken by sauce. I hoped we were allowed to eat the garnish as well. Ash served us, thankfully, using tiny metal tongs to set portions of everything onto two dessert-sized plates.

"Sorry," I said, after I'd swallowed my first bite of... I don't know, maybe a grape leaf and some kind of soft meat? It was pretty good, to be honest, but not $700 good. "I'm not much use."

Ash smiled softly, patting her lips with her napkin. How she was managing to get food into her mouth without smearing her lipstick was one of life's great mysteries. "That's not true," she said.

Again, she got her meaning across with just a hint of extra emphasis on certain sounds, a tiny tilt of one eyebrow: I was being useful by being here, no actual insider information necessary. Couldn't have told you how she'd conveyed it, only that she did. Actors, man.

"Thanks." I took a drink, and tried not to feel like a galumphing idiot because there was no graceful way for a normie like me to eat on camera. "Is there anything else specific you want to know about— about Daisy?" I'd almost said about me, but well. Eyes and ears everywhere.

"Let's be honest," Ash said. "I don't play Daisy, at least not 99% of the time. I play Zeptron 420 pretending to be Daisy."

And if she kept saying shit like that, I really was going to fall in love with her. "You know what?" I pulled my napkin off my lap and dropped it on the table, pushing back my chair as if to indicate I was leaving. "We're done, I can't add anything, you already understand the role better than anyone else on the planet, I cannot possibly hope to gild this lily."

"You're too kind." Ash smiled, but she also nudged my napkin back toward me with a fingertip.

Got it. Couldn't make any gestures that could be misinterpreted by the camera. Whoops. Dropping the napkin back in my lap, I scooted my chair closer to her and leaned in close to look her in the eye. "Seriously, though," I said, in a low whisper. "It gives me a lot of confidence in the show to hear you say that."

"Okay, here's a question." Ash took another bite of... I don't know, some kind of tiny fresh fruit cubes and some kind of fish? I hadn't dared try that one yet. "If you were Daisy, living Daisy's life. How would you feel about having Brandon as a little brother?"

What immediately came to mind is what it'd feel like to have D-cups as soft and round as hers, right there on my chest, and a push-up bra to put them in. Almost certainly not what she'd actually been wondering about.

"Brandon," I said, trying to refocus. "Okay, so. I'm not Daisy, but. From my point of view, he's... really annoying, to be honest."

Ash sighed. "Everyone says that. Poor Jared."

Jared Kincaid was the actor who played Brandon. And yeah, if I was him then reading those fan sites would be rough. I could only imagine.

Not that I had fan sites. But there were very good reasons I never searched for myself online. Or read my Wikipedia article. Or dived too deep into Animorphs forums. Now if I could only get Jake to follow my example...

"What I mean." I held up a hand in a hear me out gesture. "I can't comment on his acting or writing, but Brandon's... really lackadaisical about the war, you know? And I get that the fictional empire-that-shall-not-be-named isn't nearly as much of a threat as the yeerks were. But he keeps blowing off missions to play lacrosse games, or go on dates. And he claims he's in charge of the team any time he's bossing JJ or Trina around, but he never seems to do anything with that power. It's usually Gina and Liam, or Trina and Crystal, getting back from missions. Brandon just hangs around his house all the time getting grounded by his parents and bickering with Zeptron."

"Bickering with Zeptron is advancing the war effort, if you think about it," Ash said, but she was smirking.

"In that case, he works harder than the rest of the fauximorphs combined. I stand corrected."

"Foe-uh-morphs?"

"Oh, uh." I winced. Hopefully that wasn't actually insider information. "What Jake calls the A-Town team. Originally a Marcoism, I think."

Ash laughed, nodding to herself. "Fauximorphs. Works better than 'teen shapeshifter team we can't name onscreen for copyright reasons,' I'd say."

"Is that the only reason?" I asked.

She tilted her head in a question, earrings sliding against her cheek. She had an ultra-intense way of listening, conveying with everything from the tilt of her eyebrows to her position of her hands that she was hanging on your every word. Like I said, bright future ahead.

"You never say 'yeerk,' or 'Animorph,'" I said. "Characters refer to 'those jerks' a bunch, which I assume is meant to imply something, and obviously you've got alien invaders played by eels, but... it's down to copyright? You know Marco owns the copyright for 'Animorph,' right? And he works for you."

"Mm." Ash made a small gesture, raising the first two fingers of her right hand, a let me think, as she chewed another bite of food. Finally she said, "It's down to taste, I suppose. Because it is ultimately a fictional show."

"Ha!"

That'd come out too loud — I pressed a hand over my mouth — but it got another genuine laugh from Ash. And oh, that untouchable goddess veneer was wearing off faster than I wanted it to. She was acting all too approachable.

She's gay, I reminded myself firmly. And taken. And you have a hot girlfriend at home.

"I just..." I looked down at my plate. "That's what I keep saying. It's not a show about the war, not really. It's a show about a ridiculous version of the war that's not supposed to be realistic, and everyone knows that. Jake keeps taking it too seriously, you know?"

"I would hope not," Ash said. "And we aren't trying to depict real yeerks. That'd be pretty disrespectful, don't you think?"

The whole show was disrespectful as fuck — Jake and I agreed on that much — but even without the cameras, I wouldn't have said that to Ash. Disrespectful wasn't the worst thing in the world. It beat valorizing the Animorphs for the purpose of holding them up in contrast to everything allegedly wrong with the current generation, which was the most common alternative I'd encountered.

"What about you?" I offered instead. "What do you think Daisy thinks of Brandon?"

"Oh, man." She blew out a breath. "I think she's sad, mostly. She probably misses hanging out with him, and it has to upset her how much Zeptron bullies him. I also think she's proud of him being such a good lacrosse player, like maybe she used to look forward to them being on high school lacrosse teams together before—"

"Okay, okay!" My hand was clenched around my fork; I forced my fingers open. "Okay."

"It's nice filming in California, where the weather usually cooperates," she said. Checking in again.

"It does rain here sometimes," I said. And then, "You're very good. You know that? Whatever they're paying you, it isn't enough."

"Mmmm, can I quote you on that next time I'm talking to my agent?" She smiled with her lips, but her gaze was searching mine.

"Oh, please do." I did my best to smile reassuringly. And then, because I sucked at nonverbal communication. "I asked the question, dude. You answered. But go ahead, hit me with another one."

There was a click to our right, another camera shutter going off. Knowing my luck, I'd managed to get food in my teeth or bunch up my pants at a weird angle.

"How do you feel about Zeptron and JJ's romance?" Ash lobbed a lowball at me.

"She should've stuck with her banana slug boyfriend," I said. "Would Daisy want to date JJ, in your opinion?"

Ash tilted her head, then shook it. "He's too young for her. And she's secretly all punk and alternative, if you've seen any of the episodes with her cameos. JJ's kind of a poser, you know?"

"Plus, he cheats on all his girlfriends."

"Exactly."

"How's Marco feel about JJ, anyway?" I asked. There were obvious differences, from the Italian actor and buzz cut to the inexplicable decision to have him use duck as his battle morph, but he was Brandon's best friend, the team's comic relief, the only one with an immigrant mom, and the one with the most girlfriends. That, and his mom was either a homicidal sadist or else being controlled by a yeerk that bore a suspicious resemblance to Visser One.

"Have you ever," Ash said, "and I mean ever, gotten a straight answer out of Marco about anything?"

"Oh, hell no," I said immediately. "I think Jake can — that's his superpower. But me? No way, Jose."

"Yes, he's very good at this kind of thing." She didn't mean acting, of course. Or at least, not the kind that one did on TV.

"Scarily good, some would say," I muttered.

"Oh?"

"Okay, you—" I lowered my voice. "You remember Tennantgate, right?"

Ash nodded, of course, even though she was frowning in confusion. William Roger Tennant, America's most beloved hippie, caught on camera trying to strangle a dog. The most-played news clip of the year, at least in California.

"What if I told you," I said quietly, "that Tennant was...?" I made that yeerk-falling-out-of-ear gesture again, to get her to laugh. "And that it just so happens Marco Alvarez's stepmom owns a white toy poodle?"

Ash choked on a sip of water, putting a hand to her chest in surprise. I exerted heroic effort not to follow the direction of that hand too closely. "But how?" she whispered, when she'd recovered. "How would you even engineer something like that? They'd have to know exactly where he'd be when, how he'd react, that it'd happen exactly as the cameras turned on..."

I held up both hands in an open-palm shrug. "You've got me. Like you said, he's very good."

"It's funny." Ash glanced around to see if anyone was within earshot. I leaned in close to her, and she leaned across the table to meet me. With her lips an inch from my cheek — she didn't touch my ear, we'd covered that — she whispered, "I asked Marco on this date first. He said no. Said that actually, he's thinking of... you know. Telling people."

I sat back, looking at her. Hopefully that little moment had looked plenty intimate for the cameras. She'd even managed a blush, how I had no idea. The red wine, maybe.

And then it hit me. Coming out. Marco was thinking of coming out. "I..." I took a breath. "I hope... Whatever happens, it works for him."

Because he wasn't untouchable, not really, but he was about as close as you could get. Elton John famous. Anderson Cooper, Ellen Degeneres, Rachel Maddow famous. Famous enough that losing all sponsorships and acting gigs, getting dragged through the mud and spat on by former fans, wouldn't be enough to ruin his life or his legacy. Famous enough to pave the way for other boys who dated boys, for people like Ash to maybe someday not have to lie.

It was the difference between Arnold Schwarzenegger taking a four-by-four to the face, and Carrie Fisher taking that same four-by-four. The blow was coming no matter what, and it'd hurt like hell when it did. The only question was if it'd leave you enough marbles to straighten up and keep swinging.

Ash smiled weakly, and this time it looked genuine. "And you know what I hope."

Yeah. Because if the four-by-four hit Marco, maybe it'd only be a two-by-four by the time it got to her.

"Ash, I..."

You know why I agreed to come on this date? I lied earlier, about not reading my Wikipedia entry. I did, just once, not that long after it was posted. The first two sentences were about Jake. The rest was about Essa 412.

For more information, Wikipedia suggested, I'd want to read the entry for Visser Seventeen.

Seemed kind of pathetic, when you thought about it. I'd agreed to this little farce to be slightly more famous, for something I'd done for once. Ash...

She was lying, right now, because she had to. Because there was no choice. Not if she wanted to live in peace, wanted Sierra to live in peace. She couldn't come here on a date, not a real one, not to any restaurant anywhere someone might have a camera. Her hand was resting on mine, and she couldn't do that with the person she actually wanted. Sure, a century ago Bonnie and I would've been illegal in California, if her parents had been allowed in at all, but a hell of a lot had changed since then. There was no comparison.

It made me feel small and shabby, to have it all laid out like that.

"I..." There was nothing I could say. Not in public, and not when this wasn't my fight. "I hope you go on more dates here," I said at last.

"And I..." Now Ash's smile was definitely fake again, even to the point of being a little sarcastic. "Hope you're with me when I do."

I winked at her. That was unlikely, since we'd agreed we would be at most photographed walking around together one more time before slow-fading into tabloid mystery. But for now... "Dessert?" I said.

"Dessert," she agreed.

#animorphs #a-town #tom berenson #long post #animorphs ficlet #eleutherophobia

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ponderingmoonlight · 1 year ago

Text

Gojo's and (y/n)'s daughter buying a prom dress for her because she never had one

Pairing: husband!Gojo x reader; daughter x reader

Word Count: 1,5k

Synopsis: When you told your little one about the fact that you never got to wear a prom dress, it was clear for your husband and daughter they needed to change that for your birthday.

Warnings: fluff overload, Gojo and daughter are sweetheart, obviously reader wasn't able to afford a prom dress back then so if you get triggered by a rough past don't read, tell me what you thiiiink 🤍

„I can’t wait to wear one of them!“

You follow the tiny index finger of your 4 year old daughter, darting directly into the store window you already stopped by countless times. Gently you rub her head, get lost in the eyes that remind you so much of your loving husband.

“Which one do you like best, huh?”

“What a hard question…”, she mutters, eyes fixated on the countless dresses displayed.

It is indeed. Would you rather wear the tight black dress with a breathtakingly beautiful back? Or what about that princess dress in the front with the glittery sleeves? Oh, how much you’d love to just get in there and try all of them on, feel like a princess once again. While you did get the chance to wear something beautiful on your wedding day, you were never able to do so as a teen by actually wearing a prom dress.

“Did your prom dress look like one of these?”

You can’t supress the silent sting in your heart and bittersweet smile creeping up your face.

“I never had a prom dress, honey”, you explain gently.

The face of your daughter drops immediately, brain visibly running hot by the sheer thought of you not having a prom dress.

Despite your good financial situation now that you’ve worked hard for, you weren’t that lucky when you were young. A prom dress is expensive, a luxury not everyone is able to afford. And that everyone was your family.

“But why?”, your daughter cries out.

You kneel down to meet her eye to eye, fighting for your composure. It might be silly, but you always longed to wear a beautiful dress to a ball, to feel like a princess for a night. When apart from your prom and wedding do you even have an excuse for something like that? You missed that chance, it shouldn’t bother you-

But it kind of does.

“You know, when I grew up, my parents didn’t have as much many as your daddy and I have now. A prom dress is really expensive and not as important as paying rent and something to eat.”

“But weren’t you sad?”

“I was. And it still makes me sad”, you admit.

“But it’s okay not to get everything you want, it’s okay to cut back. And it heals me to know that I’ll buy my little princess the prettiest prom dress ever.”

With a swift motion, you pull her body closer to yours and rub your nose against hers the way it always makes her giggle.

Yes, after all, you have a family now. And that is worth way more than a prom dress.

-Later that evening-

“Okay young lady, time to go to bed”, Satoru announces playfully after giving you a kiss on the cheek, lifting his child up with ease to carry her into her room followed by heartfelt laughter.

“Daddy, I need to talk to you in secret.”

Satoru tilts his head to the side, the sudden seriousness in his daughters’ eyes being so unknown to him.

“Got ya.”

With dramatically silent steps he closes the door behind him and returns to his daughters’ bed, raising his eyebrows to show her he’s listening.

“Mommy and I walked past a shop today and she told me she never wore a prom dress!”

“Oh, really? She didn’t even tell me about that”, Satoru replies with the same outrage in his voice.

“And she looked…sad. So I thought I could buy Mommy a prom dress for her birthday to make her feel better.”

It takes all of his strength to not melt away in an instant. What a little angel is daughter is, how sweet of her to even consider something like this even though she’s only 4 years old. Oh, how much he’d love to see you in a gorgeous gown as well, maybe even take it off after your birthday...

“What a great idea kiddo! Okay, let’s make a plan. How should we call it?”

“Operation enchanting elegance!”

“Okay, well…I wanted to say operation prom dress but that sounds better I guess”, Satoru replies.

“Hear me out: Tomorrow when Mommy’s at work, we’ll sneak into that shop and you’ll pick the dress for her.”

“Deal!”

-your birthday-

“Mommy, Mommy! You need to wake up, it’s your birthday.”

“She’s right, you have to wake up babe”, the oh so familiar voice of Satoru purrs against your ear.

So you really have no chance, huh? Slowly your lids flutter open, a bright smile already plastered on your face.

And get greeted by your daughter and husband dressed in matching unicorn jumpsuits, holding the tackiest cake in their hands you’ve ever seen. Oh god.

“You guys…”, you giggle out, on the brink of losing your composure completely.

You definitely do when both of them begin to sing a very wrong sounding happy birthday. How is it even possible that your very own child heals your inner one? Those outrageous birthday parties, the endless affection you never knew. Warmth radiates from your heart all over your body, your glossy orbs catching the gaze of your already staring husband.

It’s because of him. The man who came into your life so unexpectedly, the man who swept you off your feet before you even knew how powerful he is. Satoru is your best friend, your partner in crime, your safe space. And most importantly he is the love of your life, the father of your daughter, your husband.

And nothing will ever be greater than this.

“Quiet now daddy, I’ll give Mommy her present!”

“Honey, I told you over and over you don’t have to get me something. You’re my greatest present.”

“After me”, Satoru mumbles with a sly grin, his hand gently caressing your cheek while your daughter drags the biggest box you’ve ever seen behind her.

“I love you babe.”

“I love you more”, you reply, pulling him down into a passionate kiss.

God, how much you love that man. Despite all the things he’s been through, despite all the responsivity his broad shoulders hold, Satoru never misses to show you his affection even though you’ve been together for so long now. He makes you feel loved, makes you feel special like on day one.

Not only on your birthday.

“Open it! Open it!”

“Wow, this is pretty heavy”, you comment in utter surprise.

What on earth is in there?

“Open it”, your husband begins to demand as well, his eyes glowing like the ones of his tiny daughter next to him.

These two…What are they up to again? Is it a prank gift, one of those strange souvenirs Satoru loves to bring you from his missions? Or is it something disgusting, like the ran-over rat she gifted you last time?

You open the box, ready to be greeted by literally anything.

But not by a gorgeous gown.

“You can’t be serious”, you breathe out.

What a nice glittery fabric, you never felt something this soft in your entire life. With a swift motion you get out of bed, pulling the dress out in order to see it in its full glory. This is everything you ever imagined, the one dress that caught your eye in that one show window every single time.

The show windows.

“You really bought me a prom dress?”, you cry out.

You don’t care about how pathetic you must look now. This gown is gorgeous, way better than anything you could have worn back then.

“You said you never wore a prom dress so I needed to buy you one”, your daughter explains proudly.

There is no time to waste. Faster than she’s able to react you kneel down in front of her, devouring her body with yours.

“You’re an angel my baby”, you mumble into her soft hair while she grabs your face gently and wipes your falling tears away.

“No, I’m your daughter Mommy!”

“Now try it on, Momma.”

“You are the best husband ever, Satoru…”

“Tell me something I don’t know. Now come on, show us that dress!”

“Yes Mommy, show us the dress!”

You suddenly feel so overwhelmingly special. Wearing a gorgeous gown in your bedroom, surrounded by your husband and daughter cheering for you. Is this really your life? If it’s a dream you never want to wake up again.

“You really look like a princess”, your daughter shouts in excitement, clapping into her little hands.

You can’t help but stretch out your arms, embrace her into a tight hug again. Oh, you truly don’t deserve your precious little family, you don’t deserve all the things they do for you.

“I love you…”

“…to the moon and back”, your daughter ends your sentence like she always does.

“You look pretty hot, babe��”, Satoru purrs in front of you, his eyes darken just the way you love it.

“Wait until evening.”

Bonus:

"How much money do you have?", Gojo questions while standing in front of the checkout.

"I've got...This two coins!"

"Those are 2 cents...You know we can't afford a dress from that, right?"

"That's why I take you with me Daddy!"

Tags: @waffledeath @zeyzeys-stuff @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @lovelyluna1 @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso @gojosrealwife @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain @risuola @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world @oikawarz @darkstarlight82 @satoreo @luwumii @tachiharazsstuff @kentocalls @cheesemachine44 @ryva@kenjakusconcubine @baku2345 @komelrebi-san@deezy12299@busyreader17

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fbfh · 2 years ago

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rodrick x hyperfeminine reader hcs 2

wc: 1.7k

genre: mutual pining, minor angst

pairing: rodrick x hyperfeminine!reader

warnings: houseparty, madison and heather aren't very good friends, one brief mention of alcohol/underage drinking but no one is obviously drunk, Brent keeps flirting with you and can't take a hint but it's annoying and inconvenient at most, minor miscommunication, sad roddy at the end

summary: after getting all dolled up for your party (which is really just an excuse to see rodrick and his band play) you spend the whole night not getting to do the one thing you want to do - see Rodrick.

song rec: teenage dirtbag - wheatus, and I imagine them playing put your money on me - the struts, basket case - green day, and of course, diper overlode - loded diper at the party

a/n: the long awaited part 2 is here!! and yes there will be a part 3 that takes place at prom lol

tags at the bottom (tagging all the people who asked for part 2 as well lol)

You’ve spent all week planning your party

Now it’s finally friday after school, and Heather and Madison are at your place, taking on the monumental task of deciding what you’re going to wear

You decide on the new pair of heels you got as your inspiration piece

They’re baby pink and strappy, with a butterfly shape made of little diamonds on the front

You’ve been absolutely obsessed with them, and the party seems like the perfect opportunity to break them in

You dig around in your closet, pulling a few of your other pink dresses

It’s not much of a contest when you see them laid out, and you choose the light pink satin one to go with your shoes

You listen to Heather and Madison gossip while you dig through your jewelry and nail polish, finding some coordinating accessories and your next mani pedi color

“Which earrings?” You ask them, holding up two pairs.

“That one.” They say in unison, pointing to the one on your left

You were leaning toward that pair anyway, so you’re glad they agree

After finalizing some details and going over what they’re going to wear, all your party outfits are planned

Heather and Madison leave to get dressed, promising to be back within the hour so you can all help each other with hair and makeup

You’ve practically become their personal beauty guru since you became friends

You always know just what to do to make their makeup look flawless and their hair cooperate when it’s being stubborn

You’re a big ball of nerves while you get the last details set up

Snacks are laid out, drinks are set up

Now all you need is the people

And more importantly

The band

As people show up, Heather drags you around to socialize

You swear, she must make you say hi to every single person there

If you were a little more cynical, you might pick up on the fact that Heather is trying to keep you away from Rodrick

Rodrick, who you’ve been thinking about non stop since you first saw him

You spend the whole time looking around for him and his band

You think you see him across the room once, but it’s a girl with a dark brown pixie cut

It’s hard to tell in this lighting, and you’re glad you caught it before you made a really awkward mistake

You’re sure it would have been a funny anecdote that lead to you being friends after

On your way back, you get stopped by Brad

He insists on pulling you aside to talk, which Heather and Madison encourage

But right now all you want is to find Rodrick

And all Rodrick wants is to find you

They’re almost warmed up and ready for their set

And GOD he’s never been more excited for a gig

He’s so ready to go all out

To impress you

And to avoid all Justin Bieber songs to prevent another Heather’s sweet 16 incident

He fidgets with his drumsticks and looks around again

He still doesn’t see you

Which sucks, because he’s been thinking about this exact moment non stop since loded diper got this dream of a gig

He’s been making the boys practice way more than normal

Much to his parent’s dismay (even though they’re starting to sound pretty good)

To avoid another Heather Hills sweet 16 situation

But more importantly, to impress you

When Rodrick fell asleep every night this week, he had a variation of the same dream

Playing at this party, rocking the house so hard people talk about it for years afterwards, and getting to see you

You’re so beautiful, standing dead center at the front of the crowd, looking up at him the whole time

They barely finish their set when you weave your way through the band, and walk right up to him

His heart is pounding as you start praising him, telling him how good he was, how you want to be his little rockstar’s girlfriend

He usually gets so excited he wakes himself up after that

And now

It’s finally happening

His literal dreams are coming true

His band got a great gig

And he gets to play for you

This is probably the biggest opportunity since battle of the bands

The guys know how much he’s been looking forward to this

It’s all he’s been talking about

He really thinks that if everything goes perfect, he might be able to shoot his shot with you

He just has to focus

Focus on playing a perfect gig, focus on figuring out how to woo you

Once they’re all warmed up and hyped up, they start their set

You can hear the band starting to tune up from the other room, and try for what feels like the millionth time to slip away from Brent

You’ve had to turn him down more times than you can count, and he still can’t take a goddamn hint

“I really have to go check on my friends…” you trail off, finally slipping into the crowd

You manage to find Madison, who signals to Heather, and soon all three of you are hiding in the bathroom

You catch your breath for a little while, touching up your makeup while Heather checks herself out and fluffs her hair

Madison sits nearby, texting someone

After a little while, you sigh, figuring you should all get back

Heather and Madison share a look while you straighten out your necklace

Heather walks to the door with Madison right behind her

She pokes her head out of the door, then closes it quickly

“Brent is right down the hall,” she says, turning back to you as Madison nods, “we should wait in here a little longer

It feels like you wait in the bathroom forever while Heather occasionally sending Madison out to check

After a little while you hear faint music

Your stomach drops

You can’t miss the band, the whole point of throwing this party was getting to see Rodrick and loded diper play

“Did they start already?” you ask, walking toward the door

Heather grabs your arm before you can open it, telling you Brent is still right outside, and sends Madison to go check if the band started yet

Madison comes back a minute later

“They’re still warming up,” she says, sharing a look with Heather

A little while later, the music gets louder and you don’t want to risk missing their show

You leave the bathroom before Heather and Madison can stop you

You’re met with loud rock music reverberating through the house

Definitely not just warming up

You try to get to the other room where they’re playing so you don’t miss the rest of their set

Before you get very far, Brent catches your eye and cuts through the crowd

He follows you around and keeps trying to pull you aside to flirt and talk and get you to go out with him

You manage to get to the doorway of the room they’re playing when he pins you against the wall

He’s going on and on about how you’d be perfect together, you’d be lucky to get with him, everyone at school wants him

But all you can think about is how great the band sounds

They’re like a perfect blend of all the best pop punk and rock groups you’ve ever heard

Right off the bat, you pick out influences from green day, my chemical romance, and metallica

You’re really fucking impressed

You didn’t expect them to be this good, and you didn’t have low expectations to begin with

You just wish you could get away from Brent to really get to see the rest of their set before it’s over

When the song ends, you hear Rodricks voice and stretch up to try and see him as he leans into the mic

“Thank you, we are Loded Diper! Fuck authority!” he looks over at Chris, then leans back into the mic “And the patriarchy!”

Your stomach sinks as you realize you missed most of their show, but you still cheer louder than anyone else in the room

Rodrick lets out a little puff of air when Chris taps his shoulder, getting his attention

“Uh, listen man…” Chris starts, but Rodrick doesn’t hear what he says after that

He looks over to where Chris is gesturing, and his heart sinks

Brent has you pinned against the wall across the room, and you two are looking awfully cozy together

“Shit…” Rodrick says

Once again, he looks like an idiot for thinking he has a chance with you

“C’mon, let’s get out of here,” Ben says, signaling to Ward to help them bring their stuff back out to the van

They wrap it up and leave quickly, and Ward, Ben, and Chris try to figure out how to help their heartbroken drummer

You spend the rest of the party looking for Rodrick

You hope he stuck around, you really want to tell him how great he was

When the alcohol runs out and the party’s over, Madison and Heather sleep over, helping you clean up

Technically Heather makes Madison help you clean up

All they can talk about is prom coming up, but your mind is still on Rodrick

And how you didn’t get to see him

You wish you could have told him how amazing he was

Even if he’s not into you like you’re really, really into him

You just want him to know that you could listen to his music all day and never get tired of it

“...coordinating dates, and-” Heather says, turning to you suddenly, “you’re going to help us pick out dresses, right?”

You nod, flashing her a smile and hoping to disguise your disappointment at how the night went

“Yeah,” you answer as she goes on about finding you all dates

But you know that if you can’t go to prom with Rodrick, you won’t want to go at all

You just hope by some miracle you’ll get to dance with him, at least once

@dustyinkpages @the-snake-pit @inthehoneymoonwithconnorrk800 @followingthefanfiction @2220825 @marveldemigod17 @celootaku1 @stay-to-reblog @whos-mixxie @mikulovingtrash @inthemindofaweirdo @b0nes-phobic @myymmeloo @wanderlustingcastaway @debbi3-debaser @lubunnii @imaybewrongbutidoubtit @cloverhasnobrain @bessonasa @strangelysamantha @1-800-starkindustrie @brookeskitty @1ummcalhoody6 @always1s4youbitch-blog @citri-koi @vincentluvr444 @brunnetteiwik @melllinaa @reeces-pieses @mentamaree @jasontodd-artemisgrace4life @jinniy

#rodrick heffley #rodrick heffley x reader #doawk rodrick #rodrick x reader #rodrick #rodrick x hyperfeminine!reader #rodrick x girly reader #AWWWGHGHHN I HOPE ITS WORTH THE WAIT

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sweatervest-obsessed · 1 year ago

Text

Secrets, Secrets

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader.

WC: 1.2k

TW: Heavy make out, semi-public making out, hot hot Steve Harrington. Foreplay, but not smut.

A/N: Some sexy sexy Steve for your Wednesday night.

“She’s going to fucking kill us.” You giggled out, slotting your lips back in between his.

“No.” He mumbled, pushing you into the wall even more, leg slotting between yours for support, among other reasons. “She’ll kill you. She just won’t talk to me for a few days”

You huffed, causing him to pull his lips away.

“Babygirl…” He whispered, kissing up your jaw and slowly making his way to your neck.

You tried to ignore the way the nickname went straight to your core, and bit your lip to keeop the sigh stuck in your throat.

He slowly pulled you impossibly closer up his thigh. The feeling of his breath fanning over your neck caused you to lean your head back against the wall.

“Fuck. Steve.” You whined his name, closing your eyes, and tugging on his hair, causing him to moan against your neck.

“Sweetheart.” He grumbled. “We have to be quiet or she’s gonna get pissed.”

You shoved his chest slightly, causing him to detach from your neck, but still staying pretty fucking close. His pupils were dilated, and his lips were red and puffy from kissing you for the past five minutes.

“Don’t give me a fuckin hickey then.”

“Mouth gorgeous.”

“Oh please.” You rolled your eyes, tugging on your bottom lip with your teeth. You couldn’t help your self. He just looked so fucking good. And you promised your favorite cousin you would not sleep with Steve Harrington. But fuck, he was delicious. “You love my mouth.”

“You’re fuckin’ dirty.” Steve bit his bottom lip as he eyed your lips.

You grinded up against him, tugging on his hair again. “Never heard you complain about that before.”

Steve had shown up to the bar in these jeans that hugged his ass in the most delectable way possible, and this tight button up with the sleeves cuffed right at his biceps, making you all but drool when he came up to your group.

The look of surprise on his face when he saw you was definitely worth it.

He quickly hugged Robin and Eddie, saying his hellos. But then he turned to you.

“Hiya Princess.” Steve whispered in your ear as he gave you a hug, causing you to try and hide the blush growing on your cheeks as you pulled away. “Robin didn’t mention that you were in town…”

“I’m actually in town for the whole summer. I got in this morning…”

Steve’s tongue poked the inside of his cheek. “Huh. Good to know.”

You bit the inside of your cheek and smile at him. “It’s good to see you too Steve.” It was going to be a long night.

Robin watched this entire interaction, alongside Eddie. She had enough of the blatant flirting so she chugged her drink and grabbed your arm.

You barely had time to truly ogle Steve up close before Robin had dragged you over to the bar to get another round for everyone. She ordered the drinks before turning and snapping in your face.

“No.”

“What?”

“You know the rules. You are not allowed to sleep with him.”

You groaned and rolled your eyes. “You think so poorly of me Robs.”

“Yeah, well I know you, and I know him. It’s not happening. Are we clear?”

“Robin, we’re not seventeen anymore. I’m twenty-one, he’s twenty-two, we’re both adults.”

“But I said no. I don’t want my favorite cousin and my best friend sleeping together because if it doesn’t work out, I do not want to deal with the bullshit between you two.”

“Robs…”

“Y/n I’m serious.”

“Yeah Yeah Fine.” You sighed and grabbed four of the glasses set down in front of you, walking back over to the table where her friends were.

“If she didn’t want me to fuck you then she should’ve told you to show up in a fucking prom dress then.” You grinded against his leg slightly, causing him to squeeze your waist. “But you probably looked fuckable in that too.”

“You think I’d look hot in a prom dress.”

You shoved his arm slightly and laughed a bit. “Steve Harrington, You could be wearing a garbage bag and still somehow be voted People’s hottest man of the year.”

“You’re gonna make me blush gorgeous.” He mumbled, kissing your neck again.

Once you and Robin had distributed the beverages, you watched as Eddie took the stage.

The group had eventually abandoned the table and were the first ones dancing in the crowd. You and Robin would lip sync to the songs you know, or drunkenly scream words of encouragement to Eddie and his band while they performed.

Once more people started to join in, Steve managed to covertly keep a hand on your waist or even dance with you subtly enough that Robin wouldn’t think anything of it. Robin was drunk enough that she didn’t see any of it, or if she did, she thought it was a trick of the light.

Eventually it was packed, shoulder to shoulder causing you to lose sight of Robin. You had been dancing with Steve fully at that point, singing at one another and dancing up against each other. You had decided this was the moment to maybe sneak off.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom.” You yelled out to him, trying to be heard over the noise.

He nodded at you and watched as you slid through the crowd off towards the the bathrooms. He waited until the song ended before following the same path you took.

“I have to get back because if she sees we’re both missing…”

Steve laughed as he kissed you again. “If you're that worried about it then go.”

You stayed right there, grabbing his collar and kissing him fiercely.

“If she finds out—” You moaned softly into his mouth, cutting off whatever thought you were in the middle of saying.

Steve had grabbed your waist and slowly started grinding up against you, almost dragging you up and down his thigh. He smirked at the moan and kissed down your jaw, back to your neck.

Your hand made its way into his hair and you pulled on it, partially to regain some control of the situation, but also because you wanted to hear the pretty little moan that came out of his mouth when you did.

“Princess…” He warned and you kissed his neck softly, trailing your lips up to his neck.

You released your hold on his hair and kissed him. The tone of this kiss was definitely different then the past five minutes where you had basically almost fucked each other up against this wall. It caused Steve to falter for a minute, dropping his thigh, but not loosening his grip on your waist.

He pulled away after a moment, a slight smile on his face. “What was that for…”

You shrugged and wrapped your arms around his neck. “Want me to do it again?”

Steve didn’t answer you, and instead kissed you again, pushing his whole body into yours. The two of you stayed like that for the next minute, slowly making out with one another. There was no rush, only languid kisses and tongues lazily exploring each other.

Robin was going to kill the both of you for a myriad of reasons.

But you were about to jump off a building anyways, since you were sure you were starting to fall for Steve Harrington.

#x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington imagine #steve stranger things #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader one shot #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader angst #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x y/n fluff #steve harrington fanfiction #Steve harrington angst #Steve Harrington angst #Steve Harrington one shot

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dixons-sunshine · 7 months ago

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Go To Prom With Me? | Young!Daryl Dixon x Young!Fem!Reader

Summary: You wanted to go to prom, but you knew that Daryl didn't want to. Due to that fact, you reassured him that it was okay, and that you wouldn't want him to be uncomfortable. Daryl, in an attempt to cheer you up, did something that meant more to you than any real prom would ever mean.

Genre: Fluff.

Era: Pre Apocalypse.

Part of the Shopping Spree, Hangout Dreams AU.

Warnings: One swear word.

Word count: 1.4k.

A/n: Requested by @walkingtalkingsomething. I hope you like this!

Daryl knew you wanted to go to prom. Despite your steadfast denial that you didn't, he knew you did. He could see it in the way you eyed the prom posters in the hallways at school. He could see it in the way you stared longingly at the prom dresses you saw in the magazines your mom bought for you. He could see it in the way your cheerful smile would falter slightly whenever one of your friends at school would gush about the dresses they bought for the momentous occasion. You wanted to go to prom so badly.

Yet you gave up on that dream, all because you loved him and didn't want to go without him.

Daryl felt like absolute crap for taking that once in a lifetime opportunity away from you. He had tried to talk himself into sucking it up for one night. You were his girlfriend, for crying out loud. He could offer up one measly night if it meant you'd be happy. Hell, he had even planned on saying yes when you had brought it up a week prior, but his mouth had worked faster than his brain. He had said no, and even though you reassured him that it was okay, he could see the way your mood had deflated.

Ever since that day, he had been working tooth and nail to find a way to make it up to you. It was too late to buy prom tickets, though, so he had to think of something else. And he did. He just hoped that his efforts were enough to make you happy, just like you deserved.

“Where are we going?” you asked for seemingly the hundredth time since Daryl had dragged you from your trailer. You were under the impression that the two of you were going on a date to the local burger joint a few miles away from the trailer park. That's what he had told you. That's why you had decided to dress a little nicer; a mid length pale yellow dress that hugged you in all the right ways, a jacket to shield yourself from the slight chill in the air, and sandals to match the aesthetic. If you couldn't go to prom, you'd at least still dress up for your date with your boyfriend.

A small smile tugged at the corners of your boyfriend's lips, a smile that you couldn't see. Daryl had dressed a bit nicer as well, opting instead for a pair of jeans that didn't have any holes in them, and a nice, blue button down shirt that he had scraped money together to buy just for this occasion, that was however shielded beneath the jacket he wore. He was also wearing his nicest pair of sneakers. He had to admit, he did look rather nice. You had seemed to agree with him, because if your hungry stare was anything to go off of, his attire was doing him wonders.

“I jus' gotta show ya somethin' first 'fore we go. Jus' be patient, Princess. I promise s'worth the wait.” He was rather proud of himself for finding a way to throw you off from figuring out his intended destination. He had specifically mapped out a path he knew you wouldn't recognize, all so that he can make the surprise better. If he had taken the regular route, you would've figured out his plans, no doubt about it.

You scoffed, but couldn't help the small smile that spread across your face when Daryl reached over to gently interlace his fingers with yours. “I wish you would've told me that we would be hiking through the woods before our date. I would've worn something more appropriate for the outdoors, and not a dress with sandals.”

“Nah, ya look great. Wouldn't want ya to change,” Daryl replied honestly. “'Sides, we're almost there. S'jus' through those bushes. But first, I wanna ask ya somethin'.” He let go of your hand and reached down to pluck a beautiful daisy from the forest floor. He tucked the flower behind your ear before gently taking hold of both of your hands, his voice soft and sincere. “Go to prom with me?”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What?” you inquired confusedly, your eyes searching his for answers to the millions of questions running through your mind, faster than the speed of light.

Daryl adapted a more nervous stature, his smile becoming more bashful. His cheeks blazed alight with a red colour, but he powered through his embarrassment. He cleared his throat and slowly began to lead you through the bushes, chuckling when a surprised gasp escaped your chest. “Will ya go to prom with me?” Daryl repeated his earlier question, his voice incredibly close to your ear as he stood behind you.

The sight that beheld you was incredible; a small picnic had been set up, rose petals scattered across the ground surrounding the blanket. Soft music was playing from the portable CD player, the exact one you had gifted to Daryl for his birthday a year prior, due to his walkman breaking. A few lanterns hung from the nearby tree, illuminating the scene with a beautiful gold glow. A single bouquet of roses sat in the middle of the blanket, messily sorted into the plastic that held it in place. Daryl had clearly arranged it himself, which made it even more special. And to top it off, it had all been set up by the river.

Your spot.

You turned to Daryl and pulled him in for a kiss, hoping to convey both your appreciation for his efforts and your love for him with the action. Daryl returned the kiss with a fervor of his own, his arms moving to wrap around your waist. The kiss ended too soon for his liking, but when you pulled back and looked up at him with that radiant smile of yours, he knew that he wouldn't want to miss that. His efforts had paid off, it seemed.

“Yes,” you spoke softly as your eyes started to get watery. “Yes, I'll go to prom with you. You didn't even have to ask.” You leaned your forehead against his, a disbelieving laugh escaping you. “You did all of this for me?”

Daryl shrugged nonchalantly. “Figured s'the least I could do. I couldn't man up and take ya to the real thing, so I improvised and did this. Certainly ain't nothin' much, but—”

“It's perfect,” you whispered. “It's so perfect. I couldn't ask for better than this.”

Daryl smiled and pulled back, extending a hand towards you. “May I have this dance, Gorgeous?”

You giggled softly and nodded. “Of course you may,” you replied as you slipped your hand into his, allowing him to pull you closer and begin to sway to the soft music that the CD player emitted. You wrapped your arms around his neck and rested your head against his chest, while Daryl rested his hands on your hips and rested his chin on top of your head.

The two of you stayed in each other's embrace for a while, simply swaying to the music. However, after a while, Daryl broke the silence. “M'sorry I couldn't take ya to the prom,” he apologized sincerely. “I know this ain't what ya wanted, but I hope s'enough to make up for it.”

“It's more than enough,” you reassured him in a soft whisper. “It's way better. I love it. Almost as much as I love you.”

Daryl smiled softly. “I love ya more, Sunshine.” He pulled away from your embrace and gently took your hand in his. “C'mon, let's eat somethin'. I've got somethin' else planned for later.” He lead you over to the blanket and picked up the bouquet of roses, slowly extending it to you with a nervous smile. “I, uh...” He cleared his throat before continuing. “I didn't have money to buy ya a nice one, so I had to pick 'em and arrange 'em myself.”

“Thank you.” You smiled while taking the bouquet from him, smelling the sweet scent of the roses. “It's perfect.”

“Not as perfect as ya, that's for sure,” he told you with a nonchalant shrug. “Now c'mon, let's eat. I got yer favourite.”

“I love you, Daryl Dixon.”

A beat of silence passed before he responded. “And I love ya, Y/N Y/L/N. So fuckin' much.”

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yeagerfate · 2 years ago

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Hey I saw your spider verse post on makeup, could you do one with the like the opposite effect? Like I don’t wear a lot of makeup (mostly because I am lazy lol) but maybe the Spider verse sees them with makeup for the first time?

Thanks! Have a lovely day! Xoxo

Don’t forget to eat, drink water, and get rest!!!!

seeing you with makeup for the first time

characters: miles morales (earth-1610), miguel o’hara, hobie brown, gwen stacy, pavitr prabhakar

notes: thanks for requesting and for ur kind words! ur the first one to send me a request so that’s :)) this is basically the opposite of my other post about them seeing you without makeup for the first time. so sorry if this isn’t want you wanted! i did more of a spin on this than the previous one lol #creativefreedom (not proofread sorry)

warnings: none lol

Prom was an extravagant event at Brooklyn Visions Academy, so Miles immediately knew that you were going to go all out for it. Though, he was a bit happy that you told him you didn’t want him to do some over the top promposal. Miles may be well-versed in subjects like art and physics, but his mind went blank when it came to stuff like that. Miles was really anxious about coming to pick you up, as your dad was super protective of you, but his own father gave him a pep-talk. He felt much better. When he saw you in your glamorous dress/suit, he was taken aback almost instantly. He’d never seen you in such magnificent makeup before. He felt…. bewitched. “W-wow,” He stuttered. “You look…. great.” He found himself at a loss for words. Your heart stuttered, and you felt like you’d never been happier. “You’re not too bad yourself,” You giggled. The way you smiled that day made Miles glad he got it in a picture.

Miguel knew that he shouldn’t get involved with one of his subordinates, especially if they were new, but he wanted to break the rules as soon as he saw you. You were…. beautiful, to say the least. The way your makeup perfectly complemented the color of your eyes and skin was glorious. Naturally, you were a bit shy because of your newness, so Jessica accompanied you on your first day with the permission of Miguel. He was very glad someone he was close to was helping you so he could get another good look at you. He felt a bit perverted, like a voyeur, but you were just so… alluring. The smile you radiantly gave him as you shook his hand for the first time was addicting. He wanted to know more about you, even if you were just meant to be a secretary to Jessica. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad if he asked you out for coffee? It couldn’t be, right? He’d just have to make sure Lyla wouldn’t find out about it, as he wasn’t looking forward to being made fun of for weeks.

Hobie loved it when you attended his concerts, so when you came with makeup inspired by his own, he went wild. He found himself being much more clingy than usual, wanting to get a good look at your pretty face and hold you. It meant so much to him that you were involved in his music career… so many people in his life had dismissed it, or had told him to get a “real job”, so your support mattered so much to him. Hobie complimented you multiple times, each comment more sweet than the last, and so by the end of the night you were beaming. The firm kiss you’d given him backstage after his show had ended was something he wouldn’t trade the world for. It was so satisfying, so lovely, so…. you. He loved you. Hesitantly, Hobie asked you if he could walk you to your apartment. When you said yes, he found himself even more ecstatic than before. You were very tired after his show, and so was he, so you both took turns cleaning each others makeup off. You took your time, your hands gentle and benign. Hobie’s hands were a bit rough because of all of his calluses, so he was careful. “Thank you,” he’d whispered to you sincerely later in the night. “I love you.”

Gwen had done your makeup for you, and the way it turned out made her very happy. You looked absolutely incredible, and she almost wanted to dramatically drop her jaw to make you laugh the way she liked. The two of you were supposed to go to Miles’ state championship basketball game, so you both wanted to look nice for pictures later. Gwen spent a lot of time meticulously doing your makeup, wanting it to be exactly tailored to your taste. Any mistakes she’d made she’d immediately wipe off and start again. Excitedly, Gwen had you twirl around in your nice dress and makeup in a mini-fashion show. “You look beautiful,” she told you. Her voice was warm and genuine, her smile heartfelt. That night, after you’d gotten home, she’d kissed your soft lips tenderly, telling you how much she loved you. “Every time I look at you, you seem to get even more beautiful. I’m glad that in this universe, we’re happy together.”

Birthdays were really important to Pavitr’s family, so you wanted to go all out for it. You planned a perfect surprise party with his wonderful auntie. It was really hard to keep it a secret, but it eventually worked out. You were glad you never told him about it because of the joyous look on his face when he realized what was going on. Privately, he gave you a kind kiss and a warm hug, telling you how happy he was. The smile on his face was absolutely adorable and you wanted to squeeze him but you didn’t, not wanting to embarrass him. It didn’t take Pavitr long to compliment you on how beautiful you looked, especially with your amazing makeup. Mushy words were uttered that night, making you both cringe and smile at the same time. It was marvelous. His family had whispered to his aunt asking you when you were to be married, and she just shrugged happily. “Young love,” she muttered. It reminded her of when she was Pavitr’s age.

#atsv x reader #atsv fluff #itsv x reader #itsv fluff #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara fluff #miles morales x reader #miles morales fluff #across the spiderverse x reader #gwen stacy x reader #gwen stacy fluff #pavitr prabhakar fluff #pavitr prabhakar x reader #hobie brown fluff #hobie brown x reader #into the spiderverse x reader #hehe this was fun #i enjoyed <3

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calicoheartz · 8 months ago

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𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓 ; 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐆𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐄𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐑𝐒

read part one here ✧･ﾟ

꣑୧ — summary | you and Paige had been inseparable since the two of you were younger, she's adored you since the day she laid eyes on you. with you oblivious to her feelings, how does she plan on making you see her the way she sees you? (continued)

wc ; 758

— warnings | friends to lovers , kinda slow burn , mainly fluff & a tiny bit of angst

my master list ㇀♡

a/n : here’s part 2 to “from the start” ! If you haven’t read the first part , make sure to check it out before reading this one ! Enjoy besties ◡̈

Our time together became more frequent. We’d hang out at the park, grabbing ice cream and talking about everything and nothing. Paige’s presence was a comfort I had come to rely on, though I still didn’t see the deeper meaning behind her actions.

One night, as we lay on the grass watching the stars, Paige turned to me, her expression serious. “Have you ever thought about the future, like what you want to do, where you want to be?”

I shrugged, my eyes fixed on the twinkling sky. “I guess I haven’t really thought that far ahead. What about you?”

Paige hesitated, then said softly, “I know one thing for sure. I want to be with people who make me happy.”

I turned to her, meeting her gaze. “You’ll always have me,” I said, not realizing how much those words meant to her.

Our high school prom was approaching, and everyone was buzzing with excitement. I hadn’t thought about asking anyone, but Paige had already made up her mind.

“Hey, who are you taking to prom?” she asked casually one afternoon.

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it.”

Paige bit her lip, gathering her courage. “How about we go together? As friends, of course,” she added quickly, masking her true hopes.

“Yeah, that sounds great!” I agreed, genuinely pleased at the idea of spending the evening with my best friend.

Prom night arrived, and Paige looked stunning in her deep blue dress. I couldn’t help but stare, suddenly aware of how beautiful she was. We danced and laughed, and for a moment, I felt something shift in my chest, a strange new feeling I couldn’t quite place.

The weeks following prom were a blur of final exams and graduation preparations. Paige and I spent even more time together, making the most of our last days of high school. One evening, as we sat in my room listening to music, Paige turned to me, her expression unreadable.

“Can I tell you something?” she asked, her voice almost a whisper.

“Of course,” I replied, sensing the seriousness of the moment.

“I’ve… I’ve had feelings for you for a long time,” she confessed, her eyes searching mine for a reaction.

I blinked, stunned. “You mean, like… more than friends?”

Paige nodded, biting her lip nervously. “Yes, more than friends. I’ve been trying to show you, but I guess I wasn’t very good at it.”

I sat there, processing her words. Suddenly, everything made sense—the notes, the little gestures, the way she looked at me. My heart pounded as I realized that maybe, just maybe, I felt the same way.

“Paige, I… I think I’ve been blind. But now that you’ve said it, I realize that I care about you too. More than just a friend.”

Paige’s eyes lit up with hope. “Really?”

“Really,” I confirmed, reaching for her hand. “I’ve always felt something, but I didn’t know what it was until now.”

With our feelings finally out in the open, Paige and I embarked on a new chapter of our relationship. It was a slow burn, as we navigated the transition from best friends to something more. There were moments of awkwardness and uncertainty, but also moments of pure joy and tenderness.

We spent the summer together, exploring our new dynamic. Each touch, each kiss, was a revelation, deepening our bond. Our friends noticed the change, and they were happy for us, having seen the connection we shared all along.

There was a tiny bit of angst, as we worried about what the future would hold, especially with college on the horizon. But we faced it together, confident in our love and the strength of our friendship.

As we stood on the threshold of a new adventure, hand in hand, I realized that Paige had been right all along. The magic of our connection was undeniable, and I was grateful every day for the love that had been right in front of me all these years.

Years later, as we walked down the aisle on our wedding day, I looked at Paige and saw the same shy smile that had captured my heart so long ago. She had adored me from the start, and now, I could finally say that I adored her just as much.

#wlw #wcbb #wlw imagine #wcbb x reader #my hcs #headcannons #paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #uconn women’s basketball #paige buckets #paige x reader #lesbian #happy pride 🌈

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gatheringbones · 1 year ago

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[“Turns out that being a lesbian outside of the privacy of your own home was quite hard. I’m not talking about the various manifestations of homophobia—oh, that old thing. I’m talking about scoring. Picking up chicks. (As it turns out, I would come to prefer the type of woman few would recognize as female, the type who would cheerfully deck you if you called her a chick, but might, if I were lucky, see me as such: a chick, a babe, a femme fox.)

In the oeuvre of Mr. Spillane, being a lesbian seemed so easy, like shooting fish in a barrel. In my favorite lesbian novels, No Blonde is an Island and My Gun is Quick, all a gal had to do was brush up against another woman by the water cooler and, watch out, the sapphic sparks would surely fly. Lesbianism was something any woman could do, no special equipment, messy creams or liquids were required.

But when I walked into my first dyke bar in New York City, I had a rude awakening. It was like transferring to a new high school. No, it was worse than that. A new junior high school. You walk into the class on the first day and everyone turns to stare. Your clothes, your hair, the way you move, it’s all wrong. You have to change everything or die a horrible and lingering death.

I guess the moral of this story is that there are some pursuits, such as lesbianism, that one can’t learn from a book, no matter the author. A more crass sort might make some tasteless jokes at this juncture about “boning up” on lesbianism, or about “hands-on experience,” but the reader can be assured this dyke will not sink to that level.

I watched the other women dancing, talking, flirting. All transactions were conducted in a lingo as incomprehensible to me as straight guy sports speak. My late-seventies disco fever look was out of place here. Everyone looked like they’d raided the closet of their bigger, older brother while he was out repairing refrigerators.

I was the only one wearing makeup.

Someone approached me: “This is a gay bar.” I shriveled up and a gust of wind blew me out into the street.

I had no skills. No lesbian skills. I was stared at, rather than cruised, at the bars. I couldn’t find a way of singnaling to another dyke that I was open for business, a friend of Dorothy, in the life, on the bus. Let alone desperately horny.

Somehow I managed a few invites to lesbian parties. I’d figured out that wearing lipstick was wrong, but I was still doing it. I’m such a congenital WASP that my lips disappear without makeup; I couldn’t imagine having sex without lipstick. I had tried to pull a lesbian look together: oversized second-hand men’s clothes, an unbuttoned black vest, but Annie Hall does not work on someone five feet tall.

Nor could I play softball. When something is thrown at me, even if it is specifically designed for that purpose, I automatically duck. All I had going for me in the lesbian skill department was ownership of a cat. Enough to break the ice, but not cinch the deal.

Certainly I couldn’t just come out and ask some other dyke to show me the ropes, so to speak. The seventies were still going on even though it was now the eighties. Feminism and lesbianism had kind of merged, become one big multinational entity with Andrea Dworkin as CEO. You had to be sneaky to get laid.

Yikes. It had been so easy with men. All you had to do was bend over at the bowling alley and something would happen.

After two years, the drought ended. I saw a sign that advertised: “Double-X-Rated Christmas Party for Women.” The party was held in the basement of a Catholic church. Perhaps the priests had passed out upstairs and had no idea what was going on. Or perhaps the priests were the drag queens working the bar. Nevertheless, I was there as soon as the doors opened. And the doors were not the only thing that opened.

I walked into the basement where the party was taking place and saw rows of thrift store tuxedoes, second-hand prom dresses. The doorperson made it clear that these outfits could be borrowed for the evening. After they checked their coats, many party-goers were borrowing outfits from the racks and disappearing into the bathroom to amend their attire. As the evening went on, I noticed more and more women trading in their flannel and denim for sharkskin and taffeta.

At this, my first encounter with the women who produced the WOW Festival and would later open the WOW Cafe in a tiny linguini-shaped storefront on East Eleventh Street, I fell in love. In love with all of the women, with their outrageousness, their unruly desire. I wanted desperately to be a part of whatever it was they were doing…if the WOW Cafe had been a support group for lesbian skeet shooters, that’s what I’d be doing now.

Instead, I found theater, or it found me. And the theater, it seemed, offered a wonderful solution to my involuntary celibacy: the casting couch. In theater you are encouraged to have sex with as many people as possible; it’s an integral part of the process. At least at WOW it seemed like the shows were almost an afterthought to the flirting, a byproduct of the endless parties where women of every imaginable gender rubbed up against each other.

This last paragraph reads like a natural cue to cross-fade to the Story of the First Girlfriend, doesn’t it? At this point, I should see a stranger across a crowded room, our eyes should lock, and the violins should swell like wieners on the grill. But this scene isn’t part of my coming-out story. Who even remembers my first girlfriend? Not me. I remember lots of bodies, I remember rooms lit by lots of small lights, and above all else, I remember lots and lots of Rolling Rock. This movie doesn’t end with a soft-focus closeup on two women kissing; this is a coming-out story that crescendos into a crowd scene. It’s a wide-angle shot. The climax of my coming-out scenario isn’t a closeup on a lesbian couple but a panorama of a lesbian world.”]

holly hughes, from what comes first, from a woman like that: lesbian and bisexual writers tell their coming out stories, 2000

#holly hughes #lesbian literature #history stuff #gender stuff

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hellfirenacht · 9 months ago

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Wing Man 12

Fic Summary: Steve ‘the Hair’ Harrington is your best friend, and is constantly striking out. Sick of this, you two make a deal; you’ll wing man for each other. Hooking Steve up with dates is easy, but he finds himself struggling to find you a date. At least, until Dustin starts talking about his new cool friend Eddie.

Chapter Summary: You go to your audition, but things never go as planned.

CW: Unwanted flirting, Chris Morrison

5.4 Words

(1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11)

When you weren’t busy with work, talking to Eddie, spending time with Steve, or sleeping, you were working on your audition. You’d called Chris one time in the week that led up to the audition time, and in that thirty second phone call you had learned absolutely nothing about what to actually prepare for the audition.

You’d been on stage before, but you didn’t exactly have to audition for the middle school talent show in 8th grade. Everyone was forced into it, so you were put into the show by default, not that you minded. But, that wasn’t exactly a good example as your act had gone disastrously and you pushed down that memory every time it reared its ugly head.

When you thought of being on stage, you preferred to think of your first time as the Virgin Sacrifice, or the time that you had been in the school’s production of Our Town two years ago. You’d signed up for auditions as a way for extra credit, and had been cast as part of the ensemble and had even been given three full lines.

That had been the first time you had noticed Robin Buckley, actually. You didn’t talk to her at all during the audition, but you remembered her reading off the script so passionately it actually took your breath away. It had also taken Robin’s breath away as well, unfortunately, as she had finished her speech and promptly passed out cold.

The next time you remembered really noticing her was at prom a few months later when she had burst in, her dress cut up and looking damn near manic. She’d danced once with Sheena Rollands and then had been chased out of prom. You remembered this distinctly because she looked, well, way cooler than anyone there. Her hair was choppy and messy, and her dress looked like it had been hacked at as well, with stars sewn onto the new hemline. She looked like a rebel, like someone who mattered. You could never actually be cool like that, as much as you wished you could.

You had heard rumors that she was on the run from Hopper for being a runaway that night, but that seemed stupid because what runaway would run away to her high school prom?

You’d asked her about it a few weeks into working with her at Family Video, and she just shrugged and said that Paris had been the goal, but Prom was more feasible that night. You didn’t press further.

With that small shared connection though, Robin had helped you put together something that resembled an audition. Chris had said that all you needed to do was show up bu it didn’t feel right to show up to a real audition like it was your school play, so you roped Robin into helping you find some sort of speech to give as well as re-watching your video copy of the movie, doing your best to mimic the choreography on screen, both in dancing and in general blocking.

The VHS tape got a work out with the constant pausing and rewinding. You and Robin had spent a good afternoon with her directing you on your lip syncing and movements. By the end of the afternoon, the two of you had worked out something that you hoped showed that you belonged in the show.

You zipped up your jacket as you stepped out of your car, and made your way to the theater. There weren’t any cars in the parking lot other than yours, which should have been your first red flag. You had double and triple checked the time, and yes, you were set to meet up for auditions in the next seven minutes.

The sun was setting over the old theater, bathing the world in gold and red. It was late in the afternoon and as you approached the old marquis, you wondered briefly how Eddie’s lunch went. You pushed that down, not wanting to think about your crush and guy you were kind-of-sort-of seeing spending time with an old flame.

This wasn’t about him, this afternoon was about you and you alone.

Your stomach flipped as you approached the heavy wooden doors. You went to push and realized they were locked and the ‘closed’ sign hung there as if to say don’t you know what time it is? Why are you here?

You knew what time it was, you’d been checking your watch every two minutes since you parked.

Was this some sort of prank by Chris? Another false hope that you could be part of something? To feel like someone? To matter?

It was five minutes after your alleged call time, and you were about to turn around and go home and give up. Maybe you’d shake down Steve and Robin for a pity party where you could gripe and watch a shitty movie. No wait, they worked tonight. Eddie? You didn’t know if you were ready to know how his lunch went. Maybe you needed more friends.

Long shadows started to cast across the parking lot from the theater that loomed over you. Without the bright welcoming lights of the marquis, the building felt more foreboding, towering over you as if judging your worth to even be here when casual moviegoers weren’t around. You felt small, the lack of lights telling you that you didn’t belong anywhere, let alone in a spotlight. What were you really doing here?

You started walking away, and had made it five steps before you heard the slow creek of the front door opening, and the sound of someone calling out your name. You turned, and Chris was there opening the door and giving you a smile. He was fully clothed and, thankfully, not wearing those metallic gold shorts you had seen him in last.

“Sorry about the wait, I lost track of time.” Chis beckoned you in and you hesitated for a moment before following you inside.

“I thought more people would be here.” You said, trying to ignore the way Chris’s hand lightly pressed on your lower back as he ushered you into the empty lobby. The air smelled like stale popcorn and felt stagnant, like no one had turned on the air since Halloween. Your voice felt too loud in the empty room, as if your presence was a disturbance when the theater wasn’t bustling with people.

“I’m keeping the auditions private. I’ve had people come in and out all day.” Chris explained, leading you towards an ‘Employees Only’ door. “I have a form for you to fill out and then we can start.”

“You’ve been having people...?” Wait, was Chris in charge of the audition?

“Oh, did I not mention?” Chris looked at you. “My dad owns the theater now.”

No, he had not mentioned that. He had failed to mention a lot of things, actually. He didn’t mention that his dad owned the theater now, he didn’t mention it would be a private audition, and he certainly hadn’t mentioned that he was in charge of whether you’d be in or out. Again.

There have been some recent changes to management. That’s what Chris had said that night. The Halloween show had sucked because Chris’s dad took over the theater-

A clipboard appeared in front of you, snapping you out of it. You took it, looking over the form.

“It’s just to keep track of who’s been auditioning.” He said. “Basic things, name, number, any experience you’ve had.”

You took a seat in the office, while Chris leaned against the desk, watching you. You really wished he’d look anywhere else while you filled out the basic information needed. When it came to “on stage” experiences you put down your ensemble experience for Our Town and stopped.

“Feel free to put down the talent show.” Chris laughed. “I think it fits in with the show perfectly, Miss Pussy Lover.”

You winced at the nickname, and there was a voice in the back of your head that told you to crack the clipboard over his head and storm out. Stubbornness made you stay and give an awkward laugh. He wasn’t... completely wrong. Your talent show act had caused a commotion among your peers in a way that had followed you into high school. It was too much to hope that everyone would have forgotten about that almost seven fucking years later, you guessed.

“Yeah, it wasn’t supposed to be taken that way, but at least it means I’m not afraid to say dirty things on stage.” Your words felt forced, and you didn’t like how it made you feel. Making dirty jokes with Steve and Robin was a daily activity, you trusted them and had fun doing that. Making dirty jokes with Eddie was especially fun, and the attraction you felt towards him helped with that.

“Good, because that’s what this show is about.” Chris’s face looked smug.

“So, your dad owns the theater now?” You asked, trying to keep conversation focused and relevant.

“Yeah, he took over a few months ago. He bought it off the old owners, and we’ve been working with the Rocky Horror troupe since.” Chris said. “Since management is now owned by my dad, he put me in charge of it.”

Things were starting to make sense, and you didn’t like it. That voice in your head was getting louder now, saying that this wasn’t a good idea.

“So you’re in charge of the shadow cast and production?” You couldn’t keep the skepticism out of your voice.

“I enjoyed running tech for the school play, I figured I could run this.” He smirked.

Straight into the ground. You thought, remembering how Columbia and Riffraff had been talking to each other in the corner that night.

“So, did you have anyone in mind that you were wanting to audition for?” Chris asked, ignoring whatever face you were making.

“Uh, I always really liked Janet and Columbia.” you offered, trying to focus. “I actually got really bored one winter and glued pennies onto an old pair of shoes to make some fake tap shoes. I tried to learn Columbia’s choreography but I ended up slipping and spraining an ankle instead.”

That little stunt had you spending the holidays with your foot propped up on a pillow while you binged holiday movies and ate junk food. There had been worse ways to spend that week, especially since all of your friends at the time had been busy with their own families.

Chris’s laugh echoed through the small office and you would have bet that it could be heard in the empty lobby. You had meant for the story to be a little humorous, but he was acting like you’d told the funniest joke in the world.

“Didn’t realize you were such a clutz, Miss Pussy Lover.” He said as he calmed down.

“Please don’t call me that.” you said. “And I didn’t realize how slippery pennies would be on the wood floor.”

Chris’s hand clapped down on your shoulder as he retrieved the form from you. “It’s fine, it’ll be the perfect name for you while you’re with the troupe.”

“I’m not in yet, so just my name is fine for now.” you said a bit more firmly, standing up and sliding out of his grasp.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I think you’re already going to fit in.” he continued, standing way too close for your comfort. “I already like you more than anyone else who’s auditioned today. And you’re in luck, our Columbia just quit.” Chis’s eyes looked you up and down. “But, I think you’d be a better Janet. You’d look good in her outfits.”

Janet had two main outfits outside of the end of the movie. The first outfit was a simple sweater and blouse with a long skirt, sweet and modest. In the second half of the movie, she was running around in a bra and slip. It was clear what outfit he was talking about.

“Actually, let’s start with having you read for Janet.” He continued and went to the desk and pulled out a piece of paper. “How about we start with the scene where Janet takes care of Rocky when he’s scared and injured?”

Oh. You hadn’t thought about that. You took a small step back and he took a step forward. Chris wanted you to act out the part of the movie where Janet decides to seduce Rocky and sleep with him, turning her officially into a “slut”.

“I’d actually really rather audition for Columbia.” you said, handing the paper back over. Chris pushed it back into your hands and stepped forward again, and you bumped against the chair that you’d been sitting on before.

“We can have you read for Columbia, but I think we should start with Janet.” He insisted. “Janet is cuter anyway, and you’ve gotten a lot cuter since school.”

The voice in your head was now ringing every alarm bell, and before you could say anything, Chris kept talking.

“I can make you Janet easily.” he said. “She’s basically the lead. I’ve seen your energy at the shows, so I know you can handle it.”

“I... listen, I really don’t think-”

“You don’t need to think. Just listen to me and follow my direction.” Chris said, smirking down at you. He had a good six inches on you, but thankfully he didn’t move any closer. “Hey, you’ve heard of a casting couch right?”

Time froze for a second and your blood ran cold. “Wh.... what?”

“It’s fine. If you’re worried about protection, this is Rocky Horror. I have plenty of condoms-”

Chris was on the floor, grabbing his crotch before you realized what you had done.

As you burst through the lobby doors, the sound of your shoes echoed through the empty lobby. Your eyes blurred and stung, unable to allow yourself to take in the sight of the place that had been your safe haven for the past two years. In just ten minutes it was tarnished, ruined by the idea that you could ever really belong where you wanted to. You didn’t fit in here, you didn’t fit in anywhere. Rocky Horror, Hellfire, school, work, it was all the same. Who were you trying to fool? You were a background character, an npc, an extra. And that’s all you would be.

The shadow of the theater stretched and followed you to your car, not quite touching it as you hopped inside and slammed on the gas. You didn’t even care that Chris was being sleazy, you’d dealt with creeps before. This was the first time that you had kneed one in the crotch though.

It was the humiliation that every time you tried to fit in or stand out you were shoved back down. Every time you reached out to be something else, reality brought you back down to earth. You had told yourself that you were different now, that you weren’t the same person you were in high school, but was that really true? The talent show, Halloween, Rocky Horror, all desperate attempts to stand out, only to be dragged down.

You were a fish out of water, and you had been holding your breath for so long that it was catching up to you. You couldn’t breathe.

You were drowning.

Getting back home was a blur. You were probably speeding, but it didn’t matter. You just needed to get as far away from that theater as possible. Tears spilled over.

You didn’t even get to say goodbye.

Now here you were, in your room, in the dark. Night had fallen quickly after you’d left and it looked black as midnight outside, despite being early in the evening still.

The plastic gray phone in your hand droned on as you held it off its hanger. That one low note, continuous and echoing in your lonely apartment. That voice in your head that you had tried to ignore earlier was telling you something new, and this time you intended to listen to it.

The numbers you pressed were a ten note song that sung in your head every time you had dialed it over the past week.

The phone rang for an eternity, you counted. Each ring sounded like a hundred years, and as you heard that final ring start its long note, it cut off. There was a click, and for a moment you resurfaced and felt oxygen returning to your lungs for just the briefest moment.

“Hello?”

“Hey.... Eddie?” your voice squeaked over the first syllable of his name. “Sorry I... Can you come pick me up? I’m at home.”

“I’ll be right there.” There wasn’t a question in his voice, not hesitation. Just a simple statement. The last thing you heard was a distant jingle of keys and then a click as Eddie hung up, leaving you to wait for that next breath.

“So... what happened?”

It was the first time that Eddie had said anything since you had jumped in his van four seconds after he parked. You had immediately shaken your head and turned up the volume on the tape that he had been playing, needing to hear something as hurt and furious as you felt.

That had been ten minutes ago, and now you were in a place where you felt like you were finally able to talk. You turned down the volume and took a deep breath.

“Chris’s dad owns the theater now.” you said, your voice sounded so distant to you.

“He- wait, Chris Morrison’s dad owns the theater now?” Eddie repeated and you could only nod your head.

“Yeah. He owns the theater. Chris was put in charge of the show. He uh....” you took a deep breath and watched intently as the streetlights passed by in a constant flash of warm yellow. “He made a move on me.”

Eddie’s head snapped to the side to look at you before remembering that he needed to pay attention to the road.

“I thought that I was going there to audition.” you started telling him everything. You told Eddie how Chris had been using the audition to get laid and that you had blacked out and had probably kicked him in the dick when he made a pass at you.

Eddie had a stone face as he stared out the windshield, a stone face of a very pissed gargoyle.

“Did he touch you?” he asked, and you noticed he had a death grip on the steering wheel.

“Only on my shoulder.” you said. “He didn’t like touch me, touch me.”

Touch-a touch-a touch-a touch me!

You never wanted to hear that song again.

Eddie didn’t relax at that, and still looked pissed. “You really kicked him in the nuts?”

“Yeah, I remember him saying something about condoms and then he was on the ground grabbing his dick.” You said, running your hands over your thighs. “I’ve never hit anyone before.”

“He deserved it.” Eddie said.

“Yeah, but... I don’t know. I feel weird about the whole thing.” You sighed, rubbing your face in frustration. “I’m pissed. Chris hitting on me was just the cherry on top. I knew it was too easy trying to be part of this, and now I’ll never be able to go back.”

“I’ll be surprised if there are any shows after this.” Eddie said. “Everything Chris touches turns to shit. He dropped Hellfire and I had to pick up the pieces. Maybe someone will be able to pick the show back up in the future.”

It was a nice sentiment, but it did nothing but tell you that maybe one day you’ll find a piece of driftwood to cling to.

“I don’t know what to do now.” The paved road turned to dirt and gravel as Eddie pulled into his neighborhood. Trailers and RVs of different shapes and sizes were scattered around, and you could barely see the dirt road as Eddie pulled up next to one. You assumed this was his home. It occurred to you that you had never asked where Eddie lived before. You two had only ever hung out at The Hideout or in his can before.

Eddie didn’t make a move to get out after he parked. It was pretty common, the two of you sitting in here for hours just talking and getting to know each other.

“The show was the one place outside of work and home that I felt like I could actually belong.” You said, hating that you were dumping all your shitty problems on him. “Once a month I had a place where people didn’t expect anything out of me. I didn’t have to be the assistant manager, I didn’t have to struggle to fit in, and I didn’t feel out of place.”

You leaned back in your seat, rubbing your eyes to rid the tears that threatened to start up again. This was so fucking embaressing, crying in front of the guy you liked after you begged him to pick you up after a bad day.

“I know that The Hideout isn’t exactly the most, uh, glamorous place.” Eddie said slowly, knocking his rings against the steering wheel. “We don’t exactly draw a crowd, and it’s not brimming with freaks like you’re used to, but you can come any time we’re playing.” Eddie turned and grinned at you. “If you want I can drag you on stage to dance with us, if it helps. You could heckle us, too. It’s been a while since we’ve had someone throw something at us on stage. It’d keep us humble.”

You found yourself grinning back, unable to stop the rumble in your chest as laughter escaped you.

Eddie took that as a sign to keep going. “I think you’d do better at it than our normal drunks.” he continued. “See, you actually listen to our music. You’d get creative with your insults. I’ll write out copies of our lyrics and give you a head start. You can start throwing dice at us. I think I can handle being called a ‘satanist freak’ if it’s from you. Maybe you can start doing some satanic chants during some songs-”

“Oh my god, Eddie.” You laughed, “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a weirdo?”

“Excuse you, I am the mean and scary freak of Hawkins.” Eddie said seriously, placing a hand over his heart. “I will not settle for anything less, sweetheart.”

Your heart jumped at the nickname and the warmth in your cheeks from your laughter intensified.

“My apologies, Mr. The Freak. I’ll be sure to address you properly next time.” you rolled your eyes, but your smile was sincere.

“Please, Mr. The Freak was my father. You can just call me Eddie.” He leaned against the seat, his side pressed against it as he looked over at you with a smile.

You offered your hand to him in greeting. “Hello, you can just call me ‘weirdo’ or ‘that one girl’ or ‘hey you.’” you said as he took your hand and shook it.

“It’s nice to be properly introduced.” Eddie said with a snort. His hands felt warm in yours despite the chill in the air.

You felt better, you were still pissed as hell and upset, but you at least didn’t feel like crying.

“I hope your day went better than mine.” With the Chris drama being put aside for a moment, you might as well pull the pin out on this conversation. You didn’t want to have it, you really didn’t, but you liked Eddie. You really really liked him, and you decided it was better to know sooner rather than later what the deal with him and his ex was.

Eddie blinked his eyes in surprise that you were the one to start the conversation. He looked thrown off for a moment, but shook it off quickly.

“Paige is in charge of a new-ish label that she’s trying to get set up in Hawkins.” Eddie started. “She wants Corroded Coffin to audition for a chance to be signed.”

“Holy shit, that’s amazing.” you said, and you meant it. You had only seen them play a few times, but each time you felt like they belonged to something bigger. Even on a small stage, they acted like they were playing in front of a crowd of thousands. “You’re gonna do it, right?”

“Yeah, I... I really can’t pass this up. I mean, I still need to tell the rest of the guys and get their input but I doubt they’ll turn it down.” Eddie said.

“Even a small label is a big deal, right? That means you’d be able to record and play somewhere outside of the Hideout.” you said.

“Paige said that she wants us to audition by the end of the year and if things go well, then she could have us in a studio by summer.”

“Wow.” you breathed out, leaning back against the seat. “So, can I get you to autograph a few things now to get ahead of the crowd? I figure one or two for me to keep then a few more for me to sell off as you get bigger.”

“Ha ha, real funny.” Eddie said dead pan.

“I’m not joking.” you said. “I got bills to pay, and you’re about to be signed. Help a girl out!”

“We haven’t even set up the audition.”

“So? She flew out here, told you that she wanted you to audition and that she could have you in a recording studio next year! I really doubt that she would tell you all of that unless she already had you planned for the roster.” you pointed out. “It sounds like the audition is more of a formality.”

“You really think so?” Eddie asked, perking up slightly. He hadn’t thought about it like that.

“I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but it can’t have been horrible if she wants to sign you still.” You added.

Eddie had an expression on his face that you couldn’t read.

“I guess.” He shrugged, but he didn’t seem convinced.

“Either way, I hope your audition goes better than how mine just went.”

Eddie took a deep breath. “Paige tried to kiss me.” he said quickly, and all that anxiety from the day shot back up.

“Oh.” You failed to sound neutral about what Eddie had just said, disappointment clear in your voice.

“No, I- I turned her down.” Eddie clarified. “After the meeting she started leaning in and I told her no, that it wasn’t a good idea.”

“Oh...?” you were searching for words, but nothing else came out.

“I also...” He hesitated for a moment, messing with one of his rings. “I told her I was seeing someone.”

“Oh!” It was your turn to be surprised, and once again you felt the warmth in your cheeks. “How’d she take it...?”

“She took it well.” Eddie said. “I don’t think she was really thinking it through when she tried. I think she just got caught up in this fantasy about me being some sort of rock hero. It’s business, that’s all it is. Paige even said that it wouldn’t ever actually work between the two of us.”

“She’s not pulling a Chris right?”

“No, she said that the audition is still on with or without any entanglement.” He promised.

“And you don’t have any romantic feelings for her?” You asked.

Eddie shook his head. “No. I don’t.”

You believed him. You didn’t have any reason not to anyway. Eddie had been up front about his relationship with Paige every step of the way. If Eddie had been a lesser person, he wouldn’t have told you that she was his ex and he really wouldn’t have said anything about an almost kiss.

Plus, when he said he was seeing someone your stomach felt like it was full of butterflies and glitter and that was something you were having a really hard time ignoring.

“Alright, I trust you.” you nodded. “At least one of us should have something good come out of this night. I’m happy for you, really. I want this to work for you.”

“Thanks.” His voice was soft. “Do you uh, want to come inside?”

When you had asked Eddie to pick you up, you hadn’t thought too far ahead of what that would mean or where you would go. You glanced at the trailer for a moment, and suddenly you were really curious about where he lived and what his room looked like.

“Absolutely, I do.” you said. After the emotional roller coaster you had just been on today, you were fine with any kind of distraction.

The two of you hopped out of the car, and Eddie swung the door to the trailer open for you and let you in first. It was a small trailer, with a living room, kitchen, and you could see the open door to Eddie’s bedroom from where you stood.

“Do you have enough hats?” you asked, stepping into the living room and looking at the many hats and mugs that decorated the walls. “And mugs? I don’t think you have enough mugs. Whatever will you drink out of?”

“Those are all my uncles.” Eddie said, shrugging off his jacket. “He’s been collecting them since I could remember.”

There were still hints of Eddie in the living room, despite his uncle's collection. A few papers were scattered on the coffee table, filled with numbers and notes next to a set of dice. On top of the tv there were a few VHS’s of old monster movies that you’d seen at your own job as well.

“Sorry about the mess.” He had made his way to the kitchen and quickly disposed of something you couldn’t see in the trash.

“You haven’t seen my apartment, don’t apologize.” you said, thinking back to the unwashed pile of dishes waiting for you in the sink at home. You should also really take out the trash and fold your laundry instead of tossing it all on the chair-

“My room’s this way.” Eddie said. It occurred to you that the last time you followed a guy into a private room he tried to make a move on you. But when you thought of Eddie being the one to lean in and tell you that he had some condoms, you didn’t feel that disgust you felt earlier. You were actually finding yourself hoping that he’d make a move as you followed him to his room.

Eddie Munson’s room looked exactly how it should. A hand made Corroded Coffin banner hung proudly over a stereo system, and the walls were more poster than paint. Every inch of the room proclaimed proudly who Eddie was and what he was about. It was loud, and cluttered, and lived in, and absolutely perfect.

You watched as Eddie tried to subtly pick up some of the empty beer cans around the room and toss them in a small basket in the corner of the room. Your eyes were drawn to the nightstand where there was a small pile of tapes which you helped yourself to go through.

“Eddie, what’s this?” You said with a snicker, holding up a cassette.

“Shit, nothing!” Eddie reached out to snatch the tape from you, but you sidestepped him, looking it over.

“ABBA!” You giggled. “Oooh, I am so telling your friends about this.”

“I’m holding it for a friend, I swear!” Eddie said defensively. “It’s not mine. I was peer-pressured. I don’t touch that shit. It’s Zacks!”

You turned the tape over. “ABBA Arrival. I didn’t take you as a Dancing Queen fan. Are you really so young and sweet and only seventeen?” You continued to tease.

“I’m not!’ Eddie tried to argue. “I’m old and bitter and an adult.”

He took a step closer to you and you took a step back as he grabbed the tape out of your hand. You bumped against the nightstand, sending a book falling to the floor.

“Oops, sorry.” you said and reached down to pick it up. It was a worn out copy of The Hobbit, and as you picked it up, the bookmark he had been using fluttered to the floor.

You grabbed the construction paper stem and held it up, noticing that you also knew how to make this kind of flower.

...You had made this kind of flower before.

You stared at it for a moment, and then looked at Eddie. Your mind raced to that night at the theater under the yellowed light of the marquis, how it felt so familiar. You thought of the yearbooks you’d looked at and how every year Eddie’s hair got shorter he became more familiar. Eddie on stage. Eddie under a street light. Eddie playing guitar.

Eddie.

“Oh.”

You remembered.

Dividers by: @strangergraphics

Tag List @k8loo @terrormonster55 @sp1dyb0y1008 @crocwork-clockodile @ali-r3n

@mxcheese @josephquinnschesthair @gagasbee @peaches-roses-sins @witchwolflea

@vintagehellfire @royale1803 @cumslutforaemond @prestinalove @browneyedgirly93

@perpetualmessmachine @thebook-hobbit @cultish-corner @grishaversecaptivated @sortagaysortahigh

@siriuslysmoking @huffledor-able541 @pookiesnatcher @eddiesguitarskills @browneyes-8288

@sheneedsrocknroll92

#nacht fic #eddie munson x reader #wing man #eddie munson x you

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n04hfiction · 10 months ago

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Girl Dad Huskerdust HCs

Content/Warnings (If applicable) : fem!implied reader, profanity, daughter!reader goes to the age ranges of a young toddler to a teenager, brief mentions of alcohol + profanity

Proofread? : ✅

A/n : I think it’s a serious problem that I have parental HCs for nearly every Hellaverse character. I need to be stopped. (Or don’t, I don’t care)

Honestly, depending on your age, the “stricter” father definitely flip-flops here and there

For instance, when you are a young child, Angel is the “stricter” father, even if you don’t have the concept to understand what that entirely means, he’s the one who baby-proofs every thing while Husk kinda lets you run wild

But as you grow and get into your teen years, Angel becomes a lot more laid back, while Husk tends to be more picky about what he allows you to do

Mainly because Husk never imagined himself as a father, so in the beginning, he is sorta unsure, so for him, anything goes, but as you start to age he gets a grip and with that, comes strictness

When you are a younger child, Angel is 100% dressing you until you decide to do that on your own (part of him hopes you’ll let him dress you forever). He’s very protective of you when you’re a toddler/younger child, Hell isn’t always a safe place, everything even slightly unsafe or tempting is gated or baby-proofed

As you age, like I said, Ange is much more lenient. He’s ready to watch you rock the world! Wanna go out to a party? For sure! Be home by 2, go nuts! Have a crush? Great! Your old man will help ya out! Wanna get drunk as fuck? Fine, just do it in the house!

Honestly, Husk is a bit of a confusing father, to say the least. He’s lowkey freaked out by the idea of toddlers and younger children, so when you’re in your first few years he lets Angel take the lead, he kinda watched and observes his behaviors.

Which leads Husk to being more cautious of a parent as an adult (Learned from his hubby, that’s for sure). Even though him and Angel are far from over, he’s still very cautious about the idea of love, so he’s very sketchy about your relationships with boys (or girls! He doesn’t judge!)

When events like your first day of school, first boyfriend/girlfriend/partner, first heartbreak, homecoming, prom, etc - You may think Angel is the one to get emotional, but it’s actually Husk - Angel is just as excited as you are, getting you dolled up and whipping out his camera to take pictures, but deep down, Husk is honestly sad that his baby girl is growing up - Especially cause he was too tense in the beginning to really enjoy your younger years

Seriously though, Husk is happy you’re a bit older, he feels like he’s able to have more of a connection with you. He likes it when you come to the bar and just sit there and talk, even if you’re only drinking a juice box.

Husk still doesn’t know how to talk with a teenager all that well, but he’ll ask you how school is, and how you’re friends are, he wants to show that he takes a genuine interest in the other aspects of your life.

Angel on the other hand is very eager to walk with you through your teenage years, he’s the dad that all of your friends think is cool as fuck, but you think he’s crazy embarrassing. He’s the kind of dad to also be friends with your friends. He’ll come in your room during sleepovers and do your friends makeup, skincare, nails, ect

Despite the fact that Angel does pretty much let you run wild once you get older, he’s very strict on safety, in every aspect. - He doesn’t want you to get fucked over like he did, and he doesn’t want that to destroy you, he really does try his best to guide you on a different path, any path that isn’t the one he fell down

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blueskrugs · 7 months ago

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I Love You (It's Ruining My Life) | Nick Blankenburg

this is a christmas fic. in july. for demi @wyattjohnston's birthday. which was in june. does the earliness of one make up for the lateness of the other? uh. happy birthday/happy holidays, I guess? fear of commitment / secret admirer / stranded / high school sweethearts / exes to lovers length: 6.4k words

Nick Blankenburg is the boy Olivia will never get over.

There’s a framed photo in her mother’s living room from seven years ago of Nick and Olivia at senior prom. Nick’s tie and boutonniere matched Olivia’s red Sherri Hill dress and corsage. In her heels, she was a couple of inches taller than him. Olivia sees it, sees them nestled in between the rest of their family photos, every time she’s home. She loved that photo; Nick is smiling softly at her, hand on her hip as she laughs at something one of her friends was doing off-camera. There’s a blooper of that photo, of Nick making faces to keep Olivia laughing, because “her smile is better that way.” That was her phone lock screen for months after that day.

Sometimes she wishes she could hide that picture frame now, or throw it into the fireplace and watch it burn.

But that would be dramatic.

Dramatic like Nick breaking up with her two months after high school graduation, saying he needed time to “figure some things out.” Dramatic like Nick hardly talking to her for weeks before he dumped her, after they’d been dating for three years.

Olivia had cried for weeks. Nick had been her first boyfriend, her first love. Washington was a small town, and almost everyone Olivia knew had married their high school sweetheart and settled down. She’d thought that would be her and Nick, too, until Nick decided to set his sights on bigger things.

Olivia pretended to get over it and moved to Ann Arbor in the fall. Nick seemed like he was always over it, and he moved to Detroit to join Victory Honda.

Olivia threw everything she had into school. She joined a sorority, joined clubs, started coaching a local girls’ soccer team. She was doing well.

By the time she was in her third year and one of her sorority sisters was telling her about the cute overage freshman named Nick who had joined the Michigan hockey team, Olivia is doing her best impersonation of a girl who finally got over her high school boyfriend.

It doesn’t stop her from dropping her phone on her face when her friend Paige leans over from her perch on the end of Olivia’s bed to show her the newest member of the hockey team. Nick Blankenburg’s smiling face stares back at Olivia from Paige’s phone screen.

“It says he’s from Washington, d’you know him?” Paige asks, oblivious. She’s already resumed scrolling.

“Yeah, uh,” Olivia says. “I think we went to high school together.”

“Oh, cool,” Paige says, continuing her blithe scrolling again.

Olivia thinks that’s the end of it. Hopes it’s the end of it. She doesn’t frequent hockey games these days, and since Nick spent two years in juniors instead of heading straight to Michigan, it’s unlikely they’ll be crossing paths on campus any time soon.

Then the football game against Ohio State rolls around. Olivia’s boyfriend Austin had traveled from Ohio to Michigan for Thanksgiving with Olivia’s family, and he stuck around through the weekend to go to the game at The Big House. Austin sticks out like a sore thumb, decked in all red, in a sea of maize and blue, but he good naturedly kisses Olivia at kickoff, ignoring the jeers of the crowd around them.

Michigan loses. It’s a bit of a blowout.

Someone from the next section over shouts something at Austin. He turns to shout back, tightening his arm around Olivia’s waist as they try to make their way out of the stadium with the rest of the crowd. Olivia’s not sure who starts it, but someone starts shoving. Olivia gets caught in the middle of it, jostled to the side as a fight starts. There’s more yelling. Someone pushes Olivia from behind, then from the side, and she falls.

Or, starts to fall, until someone catches her. It’s oddly reminiscent of the time Olivia met Austin, at another Ohio State versus Michigan football game her freshman year, and someone had bumped into him, causing him to spill a soda on Olivia.

She looks up into the face of the hands that caught her. “Nick?” she blurts. Nick’s grip on her elbows gets tighter, before he realizes he’s squeezing and lets go. He helps Olivia to her feet again. The crush of the crowd shoves them together, and Nick’s hands slide to Olivia’s hips to steady her. She’s still staring at him in awe, as if she’s never seen him before.

Nick still hasn’t said anything. Through the crowd, someone takes Olivia’s hand. Austin. She turns to find him, following as he tugs her away from Nick.

“Who was that?” Austin asks, leaning in close to speak in Olivia’s ear. Olivia cranes her neck around, but Nick’s lost to the crowd again.

“No one,” Olivia says. “It was no one.” She’s not sure if she’s trying to convince herself or Austin.

It seems impossible to continue to avoid Nick around Ann Arbor after that. Michigan’s campus has never felt so small. She sees him in the library, studying intently with his headphones on. She sees him walking across campus, always with a few other rowdy hockey players. She sees him waiting in line for coffee at Sweetwaters in the student union. Nick tries to talk to her, once.

They were crossing paths on campus, and Nick reached out a hand. He was alone, for once.

“Liv, hey,” he’d started. Olivia takes a second to look at him properly for the first time. He’s grown up a little since they left high school, but he still looks like the same sweet Nick she used to know. She pulls her arm away from him.

“I’m late for a class, sorry,” she said. She was heading in the opposite direction of the Education building, and she thought Nick might know that. She walked away before Nick could get another word in. He never tried to talk to her again after that. They share smiles every once in a while; Olivia’s always feel fake.

The years pass. Olivia graduates, gets a job as a fourth grade teacher in Detroit. Austin moves in with her. She finally stops thinking about Nick.

When Nick signs with the Columbus Blue Jackets, Paige takes the liberty of forwarding every single Instagram post about him to Olivia. Olivia FaceTimes Paige just so she can flip her off. Paige spends the next year and a half making it her personal responsibility to keep Olivia updated on her ex-boyfriend—every injury, every goal, every time he’s sent back down to the AHL.

Olivia tries not to pay any attention to it. Keyword: tries.

Austin and Olivia drive back down to Ohio a few days before Christmas to visit his family in Columbus. Olivia very carefully doesn’t mention that Nick had been called up a few weeks back the entire drive. It had caused a fight, once, when she mindlessly dropped into a conversation about the Blue Jackets that she knew Nick. She’s never talked about him around Austin again.

Later that night, when Olivia is standing on the curb outside of Austin’s parents’, her bag by her feet, tears drying on her cheeks in the freezing air, she’s briefly grateful for Paige’s incessant updates on Nick. At least she knows that the only person she knows in this awful city isn’t actually two hours away in Cleveland. She pulls out her phone with shaky hands.

God, she hopes Nick hasn’t changed his phone number.

The phone rings for so long that Olivia thinks Nick won’t answer. She swears under her breath and starts to pull her phone away from her ear to call an Uber instead when she hears a muffled, “Hello?” on the other end of the line. It sounds like she woke him.

“Nick?” Olivia asks. A car drives by, kicking up dirty slush, and Olivia flinches. There’s a moment of silence. “You know what, never mind, I’ll just—” Olivia goes to hang up the phone again, but Nick cuts her off.

“Liv? Hang on, what’s wrong?” There’s shuffling on Nick’s end of the call. He sounds wide awake now. “Where are you, are you in trouble?”

“Can you come pick me up?” Olivia whispers.

“Text me your address, I’ll be right there.” Nick hangs up.

Olivia’s numb by the time a car pulls up to the curb in front of her. A familiar figure jumps out of the driver’s seat and runs around the front of the car to pull Olivia into a tight hug. Olivia lets herself hug Nick back for a brief second, before he’s pulling away again and reaching for her suitcase.

“Liv, it’s freezing, what the hell are you doing standing out here?” he asks. He ushers her to the passenger seat and throws her suitcase in the back of the car. The heat’s blasting, and Olivia thinks Nick turned on the seat warmer for her. Her teeth are chattering.

Nick pulls away from the curb. Olivia settles back and lets the suburbs of Columbus turn into a blur outside the windows. Nick allows her to wallow in silence for a few minutes before he turns to Olivia at a red light.

“You didn’t tell me what happened, or why you needed me to pick you up in the middle of the night from the fucking Columbus suburbs,” Nick says. He doesn’t sound angry, just worried. Washed in the red glow of the stoplight, Olivia can see the way his eyebrows crease.

“Never gave me a chance,” Olivia manages. Nick shoots her an unimpressed look, but the light turns green again, saving Olivia from Nick’s gaze.

Nick’s CarPlay is softly playing Taylor Swift on shuffle. Olivia lets it cycle through a few songs before she speaks again.

“Austin and I broke up,” Olivia says.

Nick, to his credit, doesn’t ask who Austin is. Olivia’s pretty sure he never unfollowed her on Instagram. He’s probably seen all of her sappy posts from the last six years.

Nick just clicks his tongue and says, “Sorry, Liv, that’s shitty.”

Neither of them say anything else for the rest of the drive to Nick’s apartment. Olivia gawks out the window as they approach what is, apparently, Nick’s building.

“What?” Nick asks, pulling carefully into a spot in the parking garage.

“Nick, this is bougie as hell.” Olivia has never felt so far from Washington, Michigan in her life.

Nick shrugs as he puts his car in park and climbs out. He pulls Olivia’s suitcase out before opening her door for her. “It’s not that fancy.”

Olivia smacks him on the chest. She’s struck, suddenly, at how solid Nick’s become now that they’ve grown up. Now that they don’t know each other. The reminder of how different they are, how far they’ve come since high school, shocks Olivia into silence as she follows Nick up the elevator and to his apartment door.

He shoots her another worried look over his shoulder as he unlocks the door. “Are you sure you’re okay? Are you still cold?” He pulls Olivia by the wrist across the threshold and over to his couch. He turns on the gas fireplace, which Olivia raises her eyebrows at.

“Not that fancy,” she murmurs. Nick’s still bustling around, turning his heat up, disappearing into his bedroom and re-emerging with an armful of blankets, dressed in sweats and a ratty Michigan T-shirt. He throws a blanket at Olivia’s face. She rips it off, sputtering, before she realizes what it is. “You still have this?” she asks, incredulous.

The blanket in question is a T-shirt blanket, emblazoned all over with Romeo High School��dozens of Nick’s high school T-shirts, cut up and quilted together by Olivia’s mom after they had graduated. Olivia has a matching one, laid across the foot of her bed back in Detroit.

Nick looks sheepish for the first time since he picked up Olivia. “My mom, uh, helped me move in here, and she wanted to make sure I was never cold, I guess.”

The blanket looks worn, like it’s been used and washed dozens of times since they were eighteen. Olivia doesn’t call Nick out on it.

Nick settles on his couch next to Olivia. “I’m, uh, driving home first thing in the morning if you want to come with,” he says awkwardly.

Olivia chuckles wryly. “Not like I’ve got anywhere else to go,” she says. Her mother is going to be so shocked when Olivia shows up on the doorstep in the morning. Olivia was supposed to come back from Ohio with a ring on her finger, not lugging back a broken heart.

“Oh. Right,” Nick says. They lapse into stiff silence, until Nick yawns.

“You don’t have to stay up on my behalf,” Olivia says.

Nick looks over at her. “Nah, I’m fine.”

He pulls out his phone, so Olivia does the same, content to scroll in silence for a while. Until Nick starts laughing quietly at something on his phone. Olivia stretches out and pokes him in the thigh with her toes.

“What’s so funny?”

Nick locks his phone sheepishly. “Nothing.” When Olivia raises her eyebrows at him, he relents. “Kent keeps sending me these tweets about me, they’re kinda funny, I guess.”

Olivia feels her heart skip a beat, but she tries to mask it. She nudges Nick with her foot again. “Tweets about you? I need to see these.”

Nick blushes and tries to hold his phone farther out of Olivia’s reach. Her eyes narrow. That’s as good as a challenge, in her mind. Before she can think better of it, Olivia lunges across the couch for Nick’s phone. Nick jerks back, laughing, but Olivia manages to grab ahold of his wrist.

“Liv,” Nick says, but then they’re wrestling for the phone. Nick’s still laughing. Olivia’s struck, again, at how much bigger Nick is than when they were still in high school. In the scuffle, Olivia ends up halfway in Nick’s lap, but she’s also successfully clutching Nick’s phone in her hand.

Olivia says a quick prayer that Nick is too sentimental to change his phone passcode. (It’s his mom’s birthday.) Nick half-heartedly swipes at the phone as it clicks unlocked.

God bless Karin Blankenburg.

“Liv, c’mon, you don’t—”

Olivia isn’t sure what the next words out of Nick’s mouth are going to be, because she cuts him off by bursting into laughter. She’s swiping quickly through the photo gallery in Nick’s message thread with Kent Johnson. Tweet screenshot, tweet screenshot, random golf photo, another tweet screenshot. They’re mostly innocuous, or vaguely thirsty, or rants about how Nick is underrated by the Blue Jackets organization and how he should get more playing time.

“Liv, what’s so funny?” Nick complains. He sounds put-out, and Olivia glances up from his phone to look at his face. He’s blushing again.

“Nick, like half of these tweets are mine.” From an anonymous Twitter account no one in her life knows about. Nick gapes at her. “I thought I had it locked down, but I guess some have slipped through.” She should check to make sure that account is still private, actually. Nick gapes at her. “What?” Olivia asks. Satisfied, she locks Nick’s phone and hands it back.

“I didn’t know you still paid any attention to me,” Nick says. Olivia hasn’t moved from her position in Nick’s lap.

“A lot of it has been against my will,” Olivia admits. A lot of her tweets were posted under the influence, as well. Nick raises an eyebrow in question. “My friend, Paige, has made it her personal mission to give me a play-by-play of your entire career. Guess I was more invested than I thought.”

Nick’s gaping at Olivia again. She wishes he wouldn’t look at her like that. She shifts uncomfortably back to her end of the couch.

Nick doesn’t say anything.

“Hey, uh, do you mind if I use your shower?” Olivia asks, trying desperately to break the awkward silence she has created. “I’m still a little cold.” In truth, she’s warmed up a bit, but she doesn’t think she could bear to sit in the same room as Nick for another moment.

Nick seems to shake himself. “Oh, yeah, of course.” He points towards his bedroom. “The, uh, bathroom’s through there. There should be a couple extra clean towels and stuff in the closet. Use whatever.”

As Olivia stands to root through her luggage for a change of clothes and her toiletry bag, Nick does the same but slips into the kitchen. Olivia feels a tightness in her chest she didn’t realize was there ease. She sighs.

When Olivia emerges from the shower twenty minutes later, smelling of Nick’s soap and only feeling marginally more like herself, Nick’s still hiding in the kitchen. He’s eating Christmas cookies, and he looks sheepish when he sees Olivia, like he’s a little kid caught sneaking into the cookie jar.

“Are those your mom’s cookies?” Olivia asks. Karin’s Christmas cookies were practically legendary back home in Washington. Olivia has missed them every year since Nick broke up with her.

Nick smiles. “Yeah, she sent me some a few days ago.” Olivia doesn’t bother pointing out that he’ll be home the next day. He holds the Tupperware out to Olivia. “D’you want one?”

“Is that even a question?” Olivia says, snatching the Tupperware. She slides onto the stool next to Nick at the counter, digging for a gingerbread cookie. Nick’s knee nudges hers. “These are the best cookies I’ve ever had. I thought I would die without ever having them again.”

Nick chuckles and gently slides the Tupperware away from Olivia. “That’s a little dramatic.” At Olivia’s skeptical look, he continues, “My mom loves you. She would make you cookies if you asked.”

Olivia takes another bite of her cookie instead of responding. Olivia’s on her fourth cookie when Nick yawns.

“Dude, go to bed,” Olivia tells him. Nick opens his mouth to protest again. “You’re the one driving back to Michigan tomorrow, and I’m obviously keeping you up. Go to bed.”

Nick rolls his eyes but gives in. “Fine, I’ll see you in the morning.”

The door to his bedroom is shut before Olivia can figure out what happened.

Later, Olivia’s most of the way to sleep when Nick’s door creaks open again. Olivia hears Nick’s quiet footsteps as he creeps over to the couch Olivia’s laying on. She cracks her eyes open.

“Sorry,” Nick whispers. “I just wanted an extra blanket.”

There’s four blankets Olivia isn’t using piled at the end of the couch. Nick carefully pulls one off. In the dim light, Olivia watches as he wraps it around his shoulders like a cape. She shuts her eyes again as Nick’s footsteps recede.

“Liv?” Nick whispers. Olivia can barely hear him.

“What, Nick?”

“I thought you hated me,” he says.

“I could never hate you,” Olivia murmurs sleepily. She’s asleep before Nick's door even shuts again.

The next morning, Nick’s up early. Olivia groans and rolls over, burying her face in one of Nick’s throw pillows. She rolls back over when the scent of fresh eggs and toast reaches her nose.

“You made breakfast?” she asks.

“Yeah,” Nick replies, the duh implied. “Come over here, and eat while it’s still hot.”

Olivia reluctantly drags herself off the couch and takes her place at the counter next to Nick. Nick’s knee bumps hers again as he slides a plate towards her.

“No coffee?” Olivia jokes.

“We can stop for Starbucks before we hit the road.”

For some reason, Olivia wasn’t expecting that answer. She can’t come up with a witty response, so she eats her breakfast in silence.

Nick clears both of their plates when they’ve finished, starts the dishwasher, wipes nonexistent crumbs off the countertop. Olivia looks around Nick’s apartment. It’s pretty much spotless, except for the nest of blankets Olivia left on the couch. Nick’s bags are packed and stacked next to Olivia’s by the front door. The apartment’s nice, but it doesn’t feel lived in. Olivia guesses it really isn’t much, since Nick’s been grinding down in Cleveland most of the season.

“Ready?” Nick asks, jolting Olivia out of her thoughts.

“Yeah, sure, just lemme—” grab my bags, is what she was going to say, but Nick’s already hefting his duffel bag over his shoulder and grabbing the handle of Olivia’s suitcase. “Uh, yeah, let’s go.”

Nick leads the way back down to his car. Olivia watches as he tosses their bags in the trunk, then steps over to the passenger door to open it for Olivia. When he slides into the driver’s seat, he tosses his phone to Olivia.

“Order yourself some Starbucks,” he says. “My order’s marked as a favorite, add that in, too.”

Olivia sticks her tongue out at Nick as she unlocks his phone. “Like I would not order you something.”

She taps in her order while Nick drives to the nearest Starbucks. He makes a face when he hands Olivia her drink.

“How do you even drink that? Is there any coffee in there? Also, it’s iced, and it’s December.” Nick takes an appalled drink of his own hot coffee as Olivia sips her own very light, very sweet, and very iced coffee.

“Maybe you’re the one with shitty taste in coffee,” Olivia retorts, zero heat behind her words. When they were still in high school, neither of them drank coffee. Just another thing about Nick that changed without Olivia knowing.

Coffees in hand, they finally get on the road towards Michigan for real. Olivia had slept poorly on Nick’s couch, so she’s looking forward to dozing for a little while. Except, Nick chatters nervously for the first forty-five minutes of the drive. He even drowns out the Christmas playlist (her own) that Olivia cued up on his CarPlay.

Olivia fights off a yawn. “Nick, you can just ask.”

Nick cuts himself off mid-sentence. “I don’t know what you mean.” Olivia gives him a flat look. Nick blushes and stares out the windshield instead of glancing over again. He sighs. “Why’d you and what’s-his-face break up?”

“Austin,” Olivia replies automatically. She notices Nick shake his head at her. She hesitates. “I thought he was going to propose this week,” she admits.

There’s a pause. “I don’t get it.”

“Austin told me that if I wanted a ring, I’d have to move to Ohio,” Olivia says.

“What?” Nick asks. His immediate outrage is a little funny. “Liv, I’m sorry, that’s so shitty.”

Olivia shrugs. “There was a fight about me wanting to stay in Michigan when I graduated a few years ago,” she says. “He never wanted to live in Detroit. I guess I sorta always knew this would happen, and I was just delaying the inevitable.”

Nick clicks his tongue at her. “You love Michigan. Even in high school, you always talked about how you never wanted to leave.”

Olivia can’t believe Nick remembers those conversations they had about the future. “I can’t believe you remember that,” she says.

Nick looks away from the highway for a moment to give Olivia a disbelieving look. “Why wouldn’t I remember that?” he asks.

Olivia doesn’t have a good response to that.

They’re both quiet for another few miles.

“My turn,” Olivia asks, over the sound of The Carpenters playing on the car’s speakers. Nick makes a face, but doesn’t protest. “Why’d you break up with me?”

The question had been plaguing Olivia for years. She had thought she’d finally outrun it, but it followed her all the way to Nick’s car, all the way down I-75 towards Michigan. Maybe if she could get Nick to answer her now, she could finally truly move on. As soon as she could get out of this fucking car, that is.

Nick sighs. “Liv, that’s not fair.”

“How is that ‘not fair’?” Olivia snaps. “You got to ask me a question, now I’m asking you.”

“Because I never liked that asshole you were dating, and I wanted to know what he did to break your heart.”

“You never even met Austin!” Olivia says.

“I didn’t need to,” Nick says. His knuckles are white on the steering wheel. “He got in that fight at the football game, and let you get pushed around.” “Nick, oh my god,” Olivia laughs. “It was a game against Ohio, all kinds of shit gets started at them.”

“He never should have let you fall,” Nick argues.

“Dude, that was like four years ago, how are you still upset about this?”

“He never deserved you,” Nick says.

“You never even met him!” Olivia says again. “And why do you even care so much? You dumped me after graduation.” Nick winces. “Why’d you break up with me, Nick?” she asks again.

“I didn’t want to hold you back,” Nick says,

“Hold me back? From what?” Olivia asks, but Nick talks over her.

“You were going off to Ann Arbor, I wasn’t even going to college.”

Olivia scoffs. “Nick, you moved to Detroit. That’s, like, 45 minutes from Ann Arbor.” Nick shakes his head. “And you ended up at Michigan a few years later, anyway. And you’re literally in the NHL now!”

Nick sighs again. “You’re not getting it, Liv. I worked my ass off to get where I am. I walked on to the team at Michigan. I never should have made it all the way to the NHL, but people took chances on me. I didn’t want you waiting around on some kid who wasn’t even good enough to get a second look from anyone for years. Would you have really wanted to be a senior, dating some stupid sophomore?”

“I don’t know! You never gave me the chance to decide that for myself. I never cared about the hockey, Nick. I just really loved you,” Olivia says quietly. “Wait, we’re literally the same age. Just because you were a sophomore by credits doesn’t somehow make you two years younger than me.” “That’s what you focused on?” Nick asks, but he’s laughing. His face becomes serious again. “I wasn’t ready to start thinking about the future. I was just trying to hold onto hockey for as long as I could back then. I knew everyone expected us to settle down like everyone else in town does, but I couldn’t do that.”

“I did think we would get married one day,” Olivia admits.

“See!” Nick says. “I felt like everyone had this idea, this plan for us, but I wanted to make my own plans. I don’t know, I guess I got scared of the idea of my future being written by someone who wasn’t me.”

Olivia looks out the window, at the dirty snow along the highway. She thinks she gets it. She had this idea of what a perfect life with Nick would have looked like, and when she didn’t get it, she tried to mold Austin into all the gaps in her life that Nick had left behind.

“We were just kids, Nick,” she says softly.

Nick chuckles wryly. “And when have you ever known kids to be good at talking about big things?” he asks.

Olivia has lost track of how long they’ve been driving. She’s not even really sure how far of a drive it is back to home, but Nick seems to know the way. His GPS isn’t even on. They lapse into silence for the duration of another song, then two.

Finally, Nick breaks the silence. “So, now what?”

Olivia huffs out a laugh and scrubs at her face. “Cry. Delete the Pinterest board I had for wedding planning.”

Nick shoots her a sideways look. “People actually do that?”

Olivia laughs again. This time it’s more real. “Dude, I’ve been working on this board since we were in high school.”

Nick doesn’t respond to that, though his cheeks look a little pink. Olivia wonders if she went too far. Nick had just admitted he had been scared off by everyone basically planning their wedding when they were eighteen. She’s about to open her mouth to apologize, to take it back somehow, when Nick speaks again instead.

“We’ve still got a ways ahead of us, I can shut up so you can get some rest if you want.”

Although Olivia had been planning on napping in the car when this little road trip started, Nick’s sentence makes her sit up straighter.

“Nicholas, why would I want you to shut up?”

“I don’t know how you don’t hate me, Liv.”

Olivia could smack him. “Would you stop that? I don’t think it’s possible for anyone to hate you, dumbass.”

“But I broke your heart—”

“When we were eighteen! I was never angry at you, Nick, just confused, really.”

Nick falls silent. He’s quiet for long enough that Olivia does start to doze off.

“I missed you more than I hated you,” she whispers before she falls asleep.

It takes Olivia a moment to reorient herself when she wakes up again. The car has stopped. Nick’s still sitting beside her in the driver’s seat, Christmas playlist still playing over the car’s speakers. Olivia looks blearily out the passenger window.

“This isn’t my house, Nick,” she says warily.

Nick gives her a sheepish look as he pushes open his car door, at the same time the Blankenburgs’ front door opens, and Karin appears.

“My mom wanted to see you,” he says.

Olivia huffs and pushes her car door open, too. Karin is still standing on the front porch. Nick makes his way up the stairs, but his mom is focused on Olivia as she trails after him.

She reaches to pull Olivia into a hug. “Oh, Livvy, it’s so good to see you.”

Olivia stiffens, but hugs Karin back after a moment. “You too, Mrs. B.” She probably hasn’t seen Nick’s mom since before they broke up. “Merry Christmas.”

“Olivia, you know you can call me Karin.”

Olivia is physically incapable of that, actually, but she grins at Karin, anyway.

Nick reappears on the front porch. Olivia hadn’t realized he’d stepped inside, but the door wafts all kinds of delicious smells from inside the Blankenburgs’ house as it swings shut. Olivia’s stomach grumbles. They must have driven through lunch.

“Okay, Mom, you got to say hi,” Nick says, stepping to Olivia’s side. “We should let Liv go, I’m sure she wants to see her own family.”

“Oh, they’re already all inside! So are your brother and sister, we’ve just been waiting on you two!”

“What?” Nick and Olivia ask in unison. They share a bewildered look.

“Well, when you told me you were bringing Livvy home, I just invited her family over for brunch.” Nick and Olivia must still look confused, because she continues, “You know I always make too much food. And right now it’s all getting cold, so c’mon!”

Karin leaves Nick and Olivia on the porch.

Olivia looks sideways at Nick. “D’you think she made cinnamon rolls?” Olivia used to love it when she was allowed to sleep over on Saturday nights (in Katrina’s old room, while Nick slept in his own) and Karin made them fresh cinnamon rolls Sunday morning.

Nick rolls his eyes, but he grins at Olivia. “All you care about is my mother’s cooking, huh?”

He pulls open the door for Olivia, still grinning. Olivia elbows him as she slips through the front door. She follows the smell of food and sound of laughter down the hall to the Blankenburgs’ formal dining room, Nick trailing after her. Every inch of the house is decked out in Karin’s Christmas decorations, and the dining room is no exception. The only thing Olivia is really focused on, though, is the table, piled high with food, and the two empty chairs at one end that are clearly meant for Nick and Olivia. They share another look, but everyone is waiting for them, so they take their seats.

Brunch is great, if a little awkward. Nick’s brother and his girlfriend are home, so are Katrina and her husband. It’s nice to catch up with them, in between Karin grilling Olivia on her life over the last seven years. Karin’s cooking is as good as Olivia remembers it. She eats two cinnamon rolls.

Olivia is in the middle of cuddling Katrina’s little boy when Karin says, “Oh, Livvy, it was such a surprise when Nick told me he was bringing you home. I can’t believe he didn’t tell me you two got back together!”

Nick and Olivia say, “Oh, we’re not—” at the same time Olivia’s mom says, “No, Olivia’s been with Austin, oh, what, six years now?”

An awkward silence falls over the table. Olivia realizes she probably should have told her mom the real reason she was coming home early from Ohio. Nick clears his throat as Olivia pushes her chair back from the table. She hands Katrina her squirming toddler back.

“Mom,” Nick starts, but Olivia cuts him off.

“You know, Mrs. B, thank you so much for having us all over, but I’m pretty tired. Nick’s couch isn’t the most comfortable to sleep on.”

Nick shoves his chair back, too. “I’ll take you back home, Liv. I’ve still got your bags in my car, anyway.”

Karin stands, too. The dining room suddenly feels too small. She gently takes Olivia by the elbow. “Here, Livvy, let me pack up some leftovers for you.” Olivia follows her to the kitchen.

She overhears Katrina hiss, “You made her sleep on the couch?” as they head into the kitchen. Olivia waits obediently while Karin plies her with Tupperwares of leftovers and Christmas cookies.

“It really was nice to see you, Livvy,” Karin whispers. “You know you’re always welcome here, remember.” She looks like she wants to say something else, or maybe hug Olivia, but Olivia’s too busy trying not to drop anything.

“Thanks, Mrs. B,” Olivia whispers back.

Arms full of food, Olivia bypasses the still-awkwardly silent dining room and sneaks down the hallway to where Nick is waiting for her by the front door. He looks upset, still, but his face relaxes when he sees Olivia.

“Geez, did my mom give you enough leftovers?” he asks. He takes a few of the Tupperware containers off the top of the stack. When Olivia doesn’t crack a smile at his teasing, his face morphs back into something like concern. “Liv, you okay?” he asks.

Olivia forces a smile. “Yeah, just ready to go home.”

It starts to snow again on the way back to Olivia’s childhood home. Nick doesn’t need a GPS to get there. He pulls into the driveway and puts his car in park. Neither of them make any move to get out of the car. Nick turns the radio off and turns to face Olivia.

“Liv, you okay?” Nicks asks again.

For the first time since she stood on the freezing curb the night before, Olivia starts to cry.

“No, I don’t know—” She takes a shaky breath. “When we were together, I used to think I had my whole life figured out, then we broke up, and I was so lost. I started dating Austin, and I could finally see a plan for the future again, and I clung to that idea of a perfect happily ever after with him for so long, but it was all just a lie, and now I’m 26 and single again—”

“Hold on,” Nick interrupts, “26 is not that old, Liv, oh my God.” He sounds like he’s about to laugh, which makes Olivia giggle, too.

“I thought I was going to be married to you by now!” she protests.

To her surprise, Nick doesn’t shut down. Instead, he laughs for real. “Liv, if you’d married me, you’d still end up living in Ohio, babe.”

Olivia makes a face. Nick laughs harder. “Okay, but, like—” She doesn’t have a good ending to that sentence. In a desperate attempt to avoid Nick’s knowing gaze, she flings open the passenger door and dashes up the front steps to the door.

She distantly hears Nick swear and throw his car door open as well. He runs up the stairs after her, putting himself between Olivia and the door.

“But what, Liv?” he asks, breathless.

“Nick, I don’t know.” She does know. “I think a part of me always knew Austin wasn’t the right person. I guess, maybe, Ohio wouldn’t be too bad with the right person.”

It’s freezing outside. Nick’s warm breath fans across Olivia’s chilled cheeks.

“And who’s the right person, Liv?” Olivia doesn’t answer, refuses to meet Nick’s eyes. Nick huffs. He captures Olivia’s chin gently between his finger and thumb and tilts her chin up until she has no choice but to look him in the face. “How ‘bout this: do you think we could try again, Olivia?” he asks.

Olivia swallows hard. “I don’t know, Nick—”

Olivia thinks about desperately calling Nick the night before when she needed help. Thinks about the blanket her mom made him years ago still laying on his bed every night. Thinks about brunch at the Blankenburgs’, the inexplicable feeling of home, there with her family and Nick’s.

Thinks about Nick, standing in front of her now.

“They say long-distance can be pretty hard, Blankenburg,” Olivia says.

Nick scoffs, eyes warm. “Who cares what they say?” Nick’s leaning in now. “Please tell me I can kiss you.”

Olivia laughs and winds her arms around Nick’s neck. “I guess I’ll allow it,” she teases.

“Fuck’s sake,” Nick says under his breath. “You guess.” Then he’s kissing Olivia, both hands tight on her hips, fierce and sweet at the same time, years of unspoken words passing between them.

Olivia makes herself pull away. Nick pouts at her. “Knowing our parents when they get together, we probably have a few hours until Mom and Dad come home.” Nick grins, already knowing what Olivia’s going to say next. “Would you like to come inside?”

Nick kisses Olivia again, quick, before dashing off the front porch to his car. Olivia watches as he hurriedly pulls her bags out of the trunk.

“Liv, I thought you’d never ask.”

Olivia watches, a smile on her face, as Nick excitedly makes his way back to her. Long-distance may be hard, but with Nick, Olivia thinks it’ll be worth it. Besides, everyone always says that “home is where the heart is,” right? Olivia thinks home is wherever Nick Blankenburg is. And maybe one day, he’ll sign a contract with Detroit, and they’ll both get to come back home to Michigan.

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